This dragon exists in unnerving duality, too much of one thing and at once too much the other. He is too much a brute in possession of primal power, and yet too much a sophisticate, one who wields reason beyond keen instinct, acumen beyond baser beasts. Darkness molds to his every line like a lover's intimate embrace, depth broken by brilliant brocades of boldest bronze. It clings to his lines, sculpts the musculature of his chest, braiding over broad shoulders and strong sides before disappearing into naught. Similar predatory perfection stalks the length of each elegant limb, prowls the roll of his gait and harries the aristocratic arrangement of preternatural beauty irrevocably tangled with savagery and grace. The camouflage of civility provided by the fine lines in his face, accents of honey on spiced chestnuts coating delicately arched brows and slightly pointed headknobs, can't hide the feral intelligence in those bejeweled eyes. The aurum glitter that dusts just above and so below does its best to distract from it, a star-studded dusting that sparkles in whorls into his brow, matching the wide width of his wings. This beauty is bait. The trap springs when the eye, drawn on a drifting current of heady allure down the long lines of his neck, is met with violence in the form of a ruff of ridges. It invades the aesthetic with its wrongness, tight clusters of multihued spikes stabbing up from his spine in convincing imitation of fur, rather than hide. A black diamond studded between collarbones and equally obsidian claws provide further contrast, existing in total opposition to the feathery white-bronze that tinges the very tips of tails and wings, delicacy and brutality in forever-balance.

Egg Name and Description

Ready or Not Egg
Heeere we gooooo~ Does this egg look prepared? No. Does it even look like an egg? ARGUABLY YES. While this little roundish lump that shares the tawny once-water-splashed shade of slightly damp sand might be some clever weyrbrat's idea to win Best Effort with Inasyth by bumping up her clutch count with a fabulously plain, somewhat realistic party decoration using only what's at hand in a cavern that's sand, sand and more sand, given its position nestled in a slightly different shade of sand, it's most likely an egg. The patterns of umber shadow and wheat highlights imply the influence of wind and wave in snaking ripples dominating the grainy shell. The delicate wrinkle and the devastating ridge might be the culmination of a hundred layering transformations once transient, now integrated into that which defines this egg. Unique among the markings that might be used to conclusively say this is potential in progress is a small crooked loop glittering near its apex. Hugged by barely-there winks of crenelated champagne and crimson, the thin wiggle of scorched crystal constrains a darkness that has every appearance of lancing deep into this egg, suggesting that what is seen of this egg is but small matters compared to that which exists within.

Hatching Message

Wobble Message
Ready or Not Egg is not. Ready, that is. The dragons are humming, the eggs are variously twitching, pulsing, shivering or otherwise showing the promise of what is coming from within. Not this egg. This egglike sandy lump just s i t s. One could mistake it for boring. Maybe it's mysterious. Maybe it's just waiting for the lightning to strike the right place - either figuratively or literally. Maybe the catalyst hasn't come. Maybe it will win someone a whole lot of marks for turning out to be what it vaguely resembles: Best Effort prize-winner in the egg look-alike category of party decorations. It is a day to celebrate, isn't it?

Crack Message
Ready or Not Egg might need… help? Did anyone see the moment when it slii-iii-iiiiiid from where it was seated, partially obscured by actual sand to its new lop-sided position at the base of what was its mound, where the actual egg-shape is confirmed? It's possible everyone did, if unknowingly. The unobtrusive movements that got it there must have been incremental, the kind of thing the eye only registers after enough of them have happened, the kind that often leaves a person questioning whether they saw what they saw, whether it really is different, and yet, the fact that it's not semi-buried lumpiness but actual eggly roundness now seems confirmation enough, even if it still might be among the least eye-attracting in the bunch. The angle at which the egg now sits doesn't look terribly comfortable though, so perhaps that discomfort will prod the occupant into more spirited efforts to make change happen for themselves if the lightning is failing to find it in a timely fashion.

Hatch Message
Ready or Not Egg isn't moving. Still. But it is making a sound. Or what's within it is making a sound? The strange howling, easy enough to mistake for the wind of the storm outside the hatching cavern at first, slowly registers as a deep crooning cry that is joy and anguish, rage and celebration. It rises and rises in volume, in intensity, becoming a storm all its own, one that competes with the drumming of the rain and the roar of the thunder. As the crack that began unseen beneath this egg who knows how many heartbeats ago streaks 'round and 'round the mundane shell, lacing it in tangled webs of weakness, the cry reaches a near-keening crescendo. Power punches outward, shattering the spiraling fractures, sending shards and goo scattering across sand and hatchling alike. Wings shield the one called out of darkness and dreams to this place, these sands, to see debts paid and promises realized.

Sands Pose #1
Dare the Descent Bronze Hatchling's wings shift, opening the curtain of wispy star-studded darkness with distinct intention. It's a graceful move— or would be if there weren't a bit of shard sticking just where one wing needs to fold. He stops as the impediment is discovered, turning his head just enough to identify the problem, only to halt in a whole other way. There are eyes on him and these eyes draw the feral, sharpened attention of his own, the glitter dusting about their edges making the look a striking one. It might send a chill down the spine, conjure goosebumps despite the heat, and yet, there's nothing he can do about the eyes. So with a sudden and total dismissal of all those watchers, he shifts his feet, turns his neck, and twists the torso that even now promises broad shoulders and beautiful proportions in maturity to use his nose to nudge the offending shard off… leaving the would-be elegant hatchling with the new problem of a snoot topped with goop. The stillness implies an attempt to go crosseyed to study the problem with much the same demeanor as a kitten trying to sort the best way to pounce a big hoppy bug. It doesn't bode well for solving the problem, at least not without simply giving himself a different one to contend with.

Sands Pose #2
Dare the Descent Bronze Hatchling still has the same problem just in case you were wondering, a bad case of gooped-snoot that no minor (or major) amount of crosseyed puzzlement has solved to date. He shakes his head once, twice, bringing a forepaw into the fray with every intention of smacking it off except that he feels those eyes again, watching his every move, waiting with bated breath to see what his next move against this new-found nemesis might be. That might be why he freezes yet again, why that paw poised for ruin is held suspended for mere moments before he places it back on the sands and raises his maw a little higher, goop and all. There's an arrogant kind of dignity in the move, as if he is daring — no, challenging — any living soul in or out of this domed amphitheater to find flaw or offense in even his most undignified circumstance. His only recourse is to keep moving forward, behave as though he cares nothing for the titters and guffaws from the stands, to glide-wobble-glide step to where all those yet un-chosen candidates wait.

Impression Message

Public Message
Dare the Descent Bronze Hatchling is still gooped, still hatch-drunk, and still stubbornly committed to his performance, as if there's any sense of grace to the glide that stutters with each limb-heavy, clumsily awkward step. (The crosseyed dilemma of 2730? Hasn't solved that, either.) He staggers (read: swaggers for all you ladies in the stands) ever closer to that line of candidates, maw still held aloft with casual arrogance as whirling facets seem to look past each face, be they glowingly hopeful or green. He slows, pausing at a thick-set Smith, the kind of candidate who might be able to match him (or outdo him, even, given the way that candidate's lips start to tug into a self-assured smirk). The beastial beauty doesn't deign to notice. He's moving, prowling now, hunting the previously elusive something now drawing him closer, anchoring him, and then he's standing before a young man with a heart-shaped face and large eyes, no longer waif or nomad because the intense, swift-whirling regard declares from that distance of mere paces that matter nothing to what happens now between them that he is claimed, he is home.

Private Message
They say lightning never strikes in the same place twice, but ready or not: B O O M. If this moment feels like forever, maybe you have time to consider the various impediments to a bolt seeking to jump from storming sky to the realm of heat and chaos where you stand with the express purpose of striking you down. You might even have time to actively anticipate it, to try to ride that wave of power you know is about to roll through you. But most likely, you are preoccupied dragging in the barest breath because that's all you have time for and b r a c i n g for what is to come. The ground seems to drop out from under you, thrusting you into freefall, into the abyss. Your primal brain puts in a bid to s c r e a m, sure you are about to shed your mortal coil, to transition from living being to nothing more than a whisper in the darkness, if even that. And yet, sweeping into the space scoured by the storm of sensation that shivers through every branching reach of nerve is a memory that stops you cold. Maybe it isn't a real memory, but it feels real. A promise forgotten because the mind needed time to heal, needed time to grow, to be ready for this. For him. A lock clicks just in time for you to hurtle through an open crystal door, into darkness shrouded still further by mists while the song in the darkness coaxes his name forth, the singular word caressing your raw panic, soothing as a spell woven with love and acceptance with the weight of ineffable destiny. Daejienth. The meteoric fall that ripped you away from the life you knew, that may have terrified you because you feel powerless to fall, is suddenly, sublimely the exhilarating dive to your wildly capable core, knowing that not only the new now holds Za'ariah but his Daejienth, too. « Hello, Prick. » That bastard's silky voice holds every bit of his lazy arrogance, not diminished in the least by the tenderness riddling that deeply sensual tonality. Air creates a cushion to soften the stunning impact of mind embracing mind, heart embracing heart, and the feel of a phantom presence very tangibly there. That feeling of being held, protected, strengthened and cherished remains when the sights and sounds of the sands return and you find that beautiful savage dream standing before you, a new anchor for your reality, just as you are for his.



Anne Bishop's Daughter of the Blood
"Seven hundred years ago, Tersa had told him the living myth was coming. Seven hundred years of waiting, watching, searching, hoping. Seven hundred heartbreaking, exhausting years. He refused to give up, refused to wonder if she'd been mistaken, refused because his heart yearned too much for that strange, wonderful, terrifying creature called…"

Za'ariah. Do you remember dreaming of him? You may not, but Daejienth remembers. He heard you, heard your heart's wish, a once-nascent need that grew as you did until the moment came for him to appear, dreams made flesh, the song from the darkness that gives your world a whole new rhythm. From the moment his mind embraces yours, you know him. Boyo, you may have everything to learn about the coltish, blundering baby bronze who will grow into a skillfully suave creature of shrewd intelligence not only capable of poise and sophistication but of mischief and youthful frivolity, but you know him. He's many things: beautiful, stubborn, fiercely kind, dangerous, and a bastard not least among them, but most importantly, he's yours.

If Daejienth were given his druthers, after breaking shell and finding you, he'd spend all his time weaving your lives together until there was no telling where one of you begins and the other ends. Strength and love, protection and succor would flow between you in an intimate, infinite loop. Daej would feel free. In that boundless state of joy, he would blossom quickly into the stunning rose he will be in maturity — without the thorns. But thorns are part of every rose and that barbed armor as suited to wound another as it is to protect the self will become a part of your Daejienth through the trial of training known as weyrlinghood.

Daejienth's perspective of weyrlinghood as a fettered existence is nigh-unshakeable. Strictures of schedules and lessons aimed at shaping him into the kind of dragon Xanadu expects him to become - decreed from a time when he was too young, too caught up in the carefree, mischievous delight of those early days governed only by the needs of the body and the needs of the heart - will call into question whether becoming this kind of dragon is really the life he wants for himself. This may prove to be something of a trial for you. The reality of weyrlinghood being a fairly-but-firmly governed right of passage for new dragonriding pairs aimed, ultimately, at increasing longevity by teaching them how not to die while living life as a bonded pair may be perfectly clear to you, but no amount of conviction on your part sways your stubborn, snarly bronze.

The insouciant, playful scamp of those early weeks may retreat behind barriers of bitterness and cordons of cruelty, fostering a facade of aloof apathy. Fortunately, it's just that: a facade, a useful one that over time will become woven into the very core of who Daejienth is becoming and yet remain distinct from the rest. He might come to call it the Other (or whatever best suits him) just to keep things straight when he shares things with you. The Other will be the mask he dons in the space of a heartbeat to thoroughly obscure anything and everything he doesn't wish to share. He can't choose to take himself away weyrlinghood, but he can decide what he gives to it and what he allows himself to become in the process. Your developing relationship and the deep trust that must build will have much to do with just how much of his inner world and this dichotomy of spirit you will be invited to understand. In the very least, you'll likely have an instinct about how to behave when facing that Other.

This is not to say that Daej is never less the Other and more the rest of everything he is. His wit and humor are steadily present with those not part of the problem as well as his sensitivity and willingness to take pleasure where and when it may be found. Sometimes it's in quiet walks with you, companionably lost in your own thoughts or in conversation that ranges from the latest amusing anecdotes, fumbles, or planning where your future will take you when the time comes (both literally and figuratively~). It may be trading bad jokes with Kyasinth, assisting Saelcuhth in her spectacular spectacles, or indulging Rhearth in her latest musical pursuits, or engaging in the telling of dreams with all three, when it comes his turn to participate in the give and take.

Despite Daejienth's dislike of weyrlinghood in principle, many of the physical and mental exercises presented over the months will be not only facile for your graceful and astute lifemate, but in many cases enjoyable, offering glimpses at a deep truth Daejienth will manifest in maturity: that service doesn't have to be suffering. On the contrary, service is an intricate dance between dragon and rider, between dragon and his queens and the others who lead along with them.

While betweening is daunting for many, for Daejienth, it's a mere matter of finding the right figurative strand of the web of the world and jumping, of riding the wind under his wings until it's time to blink to his destination. Some riders might be unnerved by the nothingness of between, the cold, but for Daejienth there's such a feeling of belonging to so profound a darkness that it's like coming home, if only for moments. It may be strange enough to rouse a worry for what might seem an abnormal affinity for the place dragons return to in death, but there's no need to worry; Daejienth has much to do, to see and experience along with you before you become whispers in the darkness.

Trading a weyrling knot and badge for that of a full-fledged rider will be something of an occasion to Daejienth. Nerves will be singing with tension beneath the mask of cool reserve, not sure until the moment comes that it really will happen, that you can finally claim yourselves with self-determination once more. He'll have opinions, of course, about just where you should serve. Arguments could be made for how well he would do in Quasar with his charm, biting wit, and practiced protocol (even if he may need to learn to adjust to the new culture of a wing that might seem a whole different world), but perhaps that curiously capable brain, with its grasp on business and its gambles, would serve you better as independent agents.

It's plausible that even Pulsar will offer opportunity, giving him a chance to change how things are done (or because he's come to see the way things were done for him were ultimately educating him to accept the gift of a life lived with purpose - one that keeps dragons like Daejienth from figuratively clawing the curtains out of boredom). The thing that will matter to Daejienth most is who is leading him - be it his queen(s) or wingleader; he wants to be where he can serve with honor. Though he's never sought to use his various aptitudes to cultivate power, it may not be unexpected to find responsibility (with or without rank) finding its way to him in time. Responsibility is a thing Daejienth takes seriously and his duties, whatever they are, will be rarely go unfulfilled without good reason.

Yet, maturity brings with it the unforeseen return of the rascal who grew up too quickly in his mire of muddled ideas about weyrlinghood. With dam, sire, and siblings especially, though also with friends (if perhaps not their riders), there sparks in adulthood anew a vitality not seen since the innocent days just after hatching. There is sometimes an indefinable fragility, a vulnerability underlying these forays in this dragon touched and changed by the life he's lived and the world he's lived it within. If nurtured, accepted and supported by those closest to him, he may yet blossom into a dragon contented with his lot. He'll always have the Other and those games he can play if he grows bored after all~

"Subtlety is a great weapon."
- Daemon, Daughter of the Blood, Anne Bishop

Some dragons don't do well with the art of mental maneuvering and cunning conversation, even less with patience and planning, but your Daejienth does it all with grace and an understated flair unnerving for its savage efficacy when it's obvious he could do far worse. Never mistake this quality of economy for laziness, nor his apparent haughty disinterest for the bluff it always is; Daejienth considers every aspect of himself a weapon and keeps them all well-honed. Like all his weapons, insincere languor enacted sincerely has many uses for him, from allowing him to keenly observe without his interest becoming known to acting as a warning of rising temper. Though Daejienth does his best to keep them leashed, flares of hot, transient anger or even flashes of freezing rage do happen from time to time. He doesn't apologize for having a blistering temper, but he does have the good grace to apologize and make reparations when it's been misdirected.

By contrast, Daej will never apologize for taking action to protect you or others who cannot protect themselves or otherwise look to him for protection. It Does. Not. Matter. if everything was gonna be fine, if you/they had it under control, if his reaction was D i S p R o P o R t I o N a T e to what had him rising to walk the razor's edge of his self-control. This does not mean every distressed dragon gets his attention because his discerning foresight allows him to gauge with a fair degree of accuracy when helping will be harming in the long term. He doesn't seek glory or recognition for his noble or kind acts; in fact, he prefers not to be recognized for them at all. If assisting anonymously is an option, that is ideal; if not, he simply has to weigh the price against the benefit.

"Everything has a price."
- Every Black Jewels book, Anne Bishop

Everything having a price is one of Daejienth's core tenets, ingrained in him by the bruises to his ego as his younger, far less canny self paid price after unexpected price until the lesson stuck. His attention to this truth may be to your benefit in social exchanges, when you want him to listen in, helping you spot the hidden hook or the good deal. He doesn't listen in without invitation, though; Daej is a dragon who understands the importance of privacy and will only pry when the need is great. By and large he trusts you to tell him what you want him to know, but when he sets his mind to finding out something you'd rather not share, he's inclined to put on his bossy I'm-a-dragon-so-I'm-right tone. « No, it's that I'm-a-dragon-who-is-your-adoring-loving-lifemate tone. » Either way, it still probably sounds b o s s y from the receiving end in whatever context it appears.

Even in moments when Daejienth's stubbornness, pride or ego is leading him to miscalculate into the rare tactless or obtuse remark, you should take care with your words because even casually hurtful remarks can wound his deep-down sensitive soul, leaving him obsessing for days or even a week before his dragon memory blessedly wipes it from his understanding. It won't do to be less than honest with him should he harbor residual feelings of unease about something or someone after memories make mysteries, as he doesn't stand for being manipulated - or having you be manipulated by others. It's one of the deepest forms of disrespect and that is something he will not tolerate. Those who try are likely to be met with a palpable disregard for a singular comment or even the individual.

Unpopular choices, like cutting away toxic or tainted individuals, don't scare him. His only hesitancy in ruthlessly shaping his world as he wants it is the possibility that in doing so, you may become a target for those whose feathers he's ruffled. He won't let it happen, whether that means making a prudent withdrawal from a conflict that isn't worth the cost to win or in making a vicious example of the first one to try so as to deter future attempts. He'll do what he must, whatever you need of him. In the end, it's your needs that he cares most about; he can handle stings to his pride if you're safe, if you're loved. He'll even grow used to a weyrful of furry or hide-covered friends if their presence is important to you (though if they should eventually conspire against you for your own good or mutual fun, you have only yourself to blame for putting talented and clever creatures together).

Your Daejienth is not an easy dragon, but all his arrogance, his pride, his power and his precision and his unswerving loyalty to you, to what you have together makes him the dragon you want in your corner on your darkest day, when your world needs saving. He will give all to fight with you, for you. It doesn't matter to him that you've been the odd man out and that it's mattered to some. It doesn't matter to him, or rather, it matters only in that you being you is exactly what makes the two of you the truest of lifemates, what makes just one lifetime together not nearly enough and yet all you have and therefore cherished beyond measure.



If you were to ask Daejienth about the curious space where dragons can meet and speak mind to mind, where your thoughts and his can mingle and entwine, he would tell you that they're roads, or webs, or both at once. Not all can walk every road, though there seem to be few Daej can't when he has a mind to do so. He can speak on a narrow band one mind to one mind, or to those of just a select group, or more broadly (to other people, even) if he wishes. It all depends on just what he needs in the moment.

Though it's not often the most noticeable feature in his mindtouch, there's almost always a tinge of color to the threads that spin out as though carried on the wind to reach the mind or minds he seeks. Often, his words are just words, but carried with them are scents and feelings that hold much meaning if one can interpret what's offered. Constant (save for when he masks himself as the Other) are the subtle but distinct masculinity that holds a sense of strength, of capability, and abyssal power. Varied are the ways he chooses to convey all else. He's fond of the use of phantom touch, of illusory experiences that recall memories or invent imagined ones that might be better than the real thing. Formulated tastes, forgotten scents, forbidden touch, nothing is beyond his grasp.

There's a tone to his mind that varies with each interaction, even when he's using primarily the eloquent (or creatively coarse) vocabulary to communicate in his silky, deep voice. It mixes and commingles, not just with sound and intonation but temperature as well, providing a good gauge for those he engages with to grasp more than mere words.

All of which is true… unless the Other has come out to play. In the case of the Other, all bets are off - such things as voice and tone, sense and smell may be more ploy to bait a trap than truth. The Other is apt to croon, to snarl, to purr his way through a mental dance designed to achieve his veiled aims, and as in all things, employs every available weapon with acute accuracy in support of that same end.


*… This is my place now. I can see them all when I stand in this place. All the dreams.*
*What dreams?*
*The dreams in the Light. The dreams in the Darkness and the Shadow. All the dreams.* She hesitated, looked confused. *You're one of the dreams in the Light. A good dream.*
- Daughter of the Blood, Anne Bishop

Within Daejienth's mind, there is a place somewhere beyond a spiraling descent into his mental abyss, where darkness enfolds you in a way many would find dread-inducing, but resonates for your lifemate so strongly with comfort and safety that it's likely much like being wrapped up in your favorite blanket or bathrobe. The mist that pervades the space offers glimpses of crystalline doors, of pathways leading away - to nowhere or somewhere. Things can change in the mists, but as long as you keep to the place that is your sanctuary with Daej, you can avoid the word sharks of the tangled kingdom just beyond the hazy borders, and share the grounding intimacy in this place where only the two of you are welcome.


"Despite having only two legs and small fangs, there was much that was feline in that one…"
- Queen of the Darkness, Anne Bishop

For all that Daejienth will be a creature of extreme grace, with a prowl that would make a wild cat proud and gliding walk that's about as soundless as a very large bronze can manage (which is to say, not even close to soundless, but impressive for what it is~), his early days are enough to make a person (or dragon) despair that they'll ever master the "easy stuff." The disagreeably dizzying growth rate that can't seem to find harmony of proportion between wings, trunk and tail (not to mention limbs and sinuous neck~) keeps Daej off balance literally and figuratively. Just when he thinks he's mastered one new counterbalance gone all cattywampus, another one sprouts to challenge him. Thankfully, he'll outgrow these demanding hassles and be better for it.

By the time you two are in the air, Daejienth's adult proportions that include his significant size and beautiful build eases those struggles and while he's inarguably graceful on the ground, it's in flight where he really inspires awe. His size means he shouldn't be as agile, as flexible, and he isn't compared to any of his chromatic brethren, but for a bronze his size? He does surprisingly well! He's more likely to blunder a move in flight because his brain hasn't caught up to the consequences of new circumstances than because the physical move is executed poorly. You might find him put through his paces again and again by weyrlingstaff in order to focus, to take in the whole picture and learn to adapt, but luckily this is one aspect of weyrlinghood he won’t mind. You'll find him often in favor of flight or exercise, even after graduation, engaged in honing the weapon that is his body.

Part of this process of honing is to properly groom those expanses of silky hide. Fortunately for you, Daej prefers efficiency over prolonged bath, oiling and any other upkeep so you can count on his cooperation. One area he expects you to pay particular attention to is grooming his black-tinted claws, and even more particularly, the ring finger equivalent on one paw. He is very private about his need to tend to the area on that talon where a subtle pattern exists on the underside of the claw, visible only in the most emotion-driven kills or when being groomed (and excuse him if he gets a bit twitchy should someone decide to pay the pair of you attention just then; it's a sensitive subject). Regularity is required with this care or you'll have a very ornery dragon with a hot pain growing where the claw retracts into the sheath. Maybe it's just particularly apt to get some bit of this or that trapped and cause inflammation, but whatever the reason, he trusts you and you alone to see to this need.


"If you want to bed a woman, do it in the bedroom. If you want to seduce her, do it in the dance."
- Daemon in Daughter of the Blood, Anne Bishop

Pleasure from partnering in dance primarily predicates on the particular partner in said dance. This could not be more true for Daejienth. Likely late to feel the biological beckon to chase glowing green or gold, though one thoroughly shameless about all he has to offer in this arena, he exercises more control over his urges than most. In addition to being particularly mindful about what association with this female or that might imply to wagging tongues, he feels a certain private resentment for the quasi-manipulation that his biology is, robbing him of reason when he would prefer never to be without it. It's not fair to resent all females for what biology demands of them, but he readily disdains those that seem a little overeager to have a fine specimen of the species like himself at their presumed beck and call.

When the glowing female in question is one in good standing with him, the opportunity for lighthearted exchanges and fun flirting makes pleasant use of his charm, if he's so inclined. Even for those he thinks well of, those playful exchanges with select greens are something about which he's largely indifferent, unless one or another happens to share a more intimate attachment with him outside of the lady's glowing time. As a result, most flights that end in loss will be met with either outright relief or a swift shedding of flight fancies to get on with the next thing in his day. With a queen, it's a different story. If she's his type, a patient seduction will be devised, throwing his all into not only wooing but winning that gold's hearts.

"His heart raced and the need to move was almost unbearable. But he stood still because he wasn't willing to let anyone know how much effort it was taking to stay in control and appear no more anxious than any other father waiting to be told his fate with regard to his child."
- Twilight's Dawn, Anne Bishop

Not all golds will inspire ardor, of course, and while the idea of siring a clutch with a wrong-for-him kind of queen could initially seem loathsome, the moment it has time to sink in that wrong or right this queen is the one bearing his offspring, the ichor of his ichor, the fierce love and desire to have them, to love them will swamp him and outweighs all other concerns. Hopefully, the experience after that revelation will be a pleasant bearable one for you both— you, Za'ariah and the gestating-then-brooding queen.

Daejienth's already excessive overprotective streak may kick into an overdrive you didn't know was possible and could have lived without seeing. He likely will attempt to exert his will on the queen for the health of the children, with opinions about what she's eating, how much she's sleeping, if she's taking it easy enough and just about any other baby care concern that might arise. Maybe some females will like this kind of fussing, and others will call it overbearing, unfair and call upon you (or others, or both) to temper his all-encompassing attention.

Hopefully, you both will like that Daejienth wants to be so so so so involved. Routine dragonhealing check ups? Short of the unavoidable (and imagine how hard he'll work to make "unavoidable" merely inconvenient~), he'll be there. YOU may have to be there to sit. on. him. mentally to give the queen and her rider a moment of peace. Hopefully, the queen appreciates his presence because he'll want to be there on the sands, too. He'll fulfill his duties, bring her fresh kills, even demand sustenance for the queen’s lifemate, because he won't neglect her or their babies, but banishing him further than the ledges in the hatching cavern may take more than a little doing - it might even take a queen's command or your grade A creativity.

This protectiveness won't exactly ease once the eggs are on the sands, but his pride for the existence of these tiny shells full of miracles won't short-circuit the part of his brain that recognizes by dint of his being their papa, they are given a degree of protection from casual harm. It allows him to relax enough to let the natural events such as egg touchings take their course (even if his nerves are dancing on needles while the candidates and dragon healers do what they need to do). Respect is key to keeping him calm. FORTUNATELY, given his Xanadoan lineage, what qualifies as "respectful" has a rather wiiiiide range. (After all, did you see that one candidate lick his own egg? He might not have liked it, but he probably didn't feel it either and it did no harm and maybe just showed him that candidate was not the mate his soul was in wait for.)

But eventually eggs will hatch, weyrlings will pair, and then you will be free from his intensity, his burning need for involvement sated, if only for now. Though he might take an interest in his progeny’s lives, rather than their mere formation, that is a secret for the both of you to discover. One way or another, you'll surely make it through together, if perhaps with a few more gray hairs for your trouble.


Welcome to weyrlinghood, Za'ariah! We're excited to see Zach put down some roots and stay a while~

The egg theme for this clutch was all things Summer and Beachy~ Ready or Not Egg was written by F'yr and based on fulgurites, also known as petrified lightning, which can form on beaches among other places, using both the beach and the unexpected strike and transformation to explore the experience of change and the deep feelz involved. This egg had a writing soundtrack comprised of OneRepublic's Run, OneRepublic's Wild Life, and Imagine Dragon's Wrecked.

Your Daejienth (we pronounce that either DAYJ-ee-ehnth or DAYGE-ee-enth, where the 'ge' is like in beige, but feel free to say it however you like it best!) is primarily based on Daemon Sadi from the Black Jewels series by Anne Bishop that was listed under your possible inspiration sources with bits of Jaenelle Angelline/Witch for additional flavor and flexibility. We thought this mix was a good match for what you asked for in a lifemate and hope you'll find something here to inspire your future fun! We encourage you to play Daejienth however he brings you the most joy. Much of his write-up was done with the mental grease of this Spotify playlist.

His name is a mashup of Daemon and Jaenelle Satien (which Bishop sounds out in Twilight's Dawn) as both Jaenelle's are integral to all Daemon becomes. We liked the sound of Daej as a nickname (whether you say it with the 'j' or 'ge'), but you are absolutely welcome to use whatever you like best!

R'hyn did a fabulous job with Daej's description and Risali kicked some sands-posing butt and both helped make F'yr's oh-so-many-worded write-up so much better. We hope you have a blast continuing Za'ariah's story with all the new challenges and fun Daejienth will bring here at Xanadu. Congratulations, he's all yours~~!!


Name Daejienth
Dam Inasyth
Sire Garouth
Created By F'yr, R'hyn, and Risali
Impressee Za'ariah
Hatched August 13, 2021
Xanadu Weyr
PernWorld MUSH

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