DARKFIRE

I wear all black to remind you not to mess with me because I'm already dressed for your funeral. 

[ofashesandstars]

needlsnthread:

His loud voice and barking laugh, sounding much like a warhorn, blew her almost of her feet. Or at least, it seemed he did make a serious attempt at doing so. The physical result was probably only the fast blinking of her eyes as she shook it off, as she prayed to the gods for only little damage to her eardrums. “Well, my apologies for the mistake then, just Lark.” she replied calmly, as she shifted behind the counter. Removing the fabric she had been working on from the wooden surface, just in case. She was in no mood to start the work on the dress all over again. Just in time, clearly, as he carelessly planted his elbows on the counter moments later. “I always thought angry mobs were not all consuming storms, but directed at one person or a small crowd. Mildly surprised you are in need of shelter when you were innocent on your part.” The halfling could have made it sound as an accusation, but instead her voice just sounded as calm and collected as it always did. Simply stating the things she observed. “Unless you are planning on misbehaving, I have little reason to chase you out of my shop. Or turn into a harpy, for the matter. - I do not see how my name could be of any value to anyone, but if it pleases you. I’m Nearys.”

It wasn’t the first time people removed things from within Lark’s reach, as if afraid he’d get his grubby hands on them and sully them, but it had happened more rarely in the last couple of decades. He was quite clean, of course, but he probably wouldn’t argue with the fact that he looked like he wasn’t. There was just something about him that regular baths wouldn’t wash off, and his general attitude most certainly did not help matters. However, he noticed, and he made sure the woman behind the counter was aware of it, meeting her impassive gaze with a sardonic one of his own. “Angry mobs are only about half as smart as their stupidest member – I wouldn’t stake my own skin on their discernment abilities,” she had quite a monotonous tone of voice, but it was obvious to him it was the sort one worked hard at in order to achieve, rather than a testament of an apathetic nature. He decided then and there she had a sob story buried somewhere behind those pretty eyes of her, quite possibly involving an angry mob, given the exacting nature of her words. Not that he gave a damn, but it was a good snippet to store for later in case he found himself in need of entertainment. “I am an upstanding citizen, Naerys – I even have the scars to prove it,” he feigned outrage at her veiled warning, clutching a hand over his heart. “Value maybe not, but it certainly makes conversation easier when you know the speaker’s name, no? And I can tell you’re a seamstress, too – we’re almost friends now, are we not?” he gestured at her shop, throwing her a winning grin.

[fuckyeah-char-dev]

ESTP: the Persuader

ESTPs are action-loving, “here and now” realists with excellent people skills. Informal, risk-taking, fast-paced and adaptable, they are not always in agreeance with rules and regulations. They are tactical problem solvers that desire quick results. ESTPs, who present a friendly and enthusiastic face, are straightshooters that are able to handle criticism.

STRENGTHS

Can be quite charming.

Witty, clever, and popular.

Earthy and sensual.

Not personally threatened by conflict or criticism.

Excellent and clear-headed dealing with emergency situations.

Enthusiastic and fun-loving, they try to make everything enjoyable.

As “big kids” themselves, they’re eager, willing and able to spend time with their kids.

Likely to enjoy lavishing their loved ones with big gifts.

WEAKNESSES

Not naturally in tune with what others are feeling.

Not naturally good at expressing feelings and emotions.

May inadvertantly hurt others with insensitive language.

May be very good with money, but highly risky with it as well.

Living in the present, they’re not usually good long-range planners.

May fall into the habit of ignoring conflict, rather than solving it.

Don’t naturally make lifelong commitments - they take things one day at a time.

Prone to get bored easily.

More likely than other type to leave relationships quickly when they get bored.

Likely to enjoy lavishing their loved ones with big gifts.

Keep reading

[ofashesandstars]

hybrcdiism:

“Oh you did everything, you ruined my crops, made me go bald, all of that horrible stuff,” she teased, unable to stop herself from laughing at how stupid what she said sounded. “Well, more so deciding how to train my riders”

The second accusation was actually not a bad idea at all, but Lark had no skill for the first – unless he convinced Garnet to burn a few fields down, although that probably sounded a lot more fun than it actually would be – and he groaned loudly. “What are you doing to me? No talking about work away from the training grounds. That’s just plain rude!”

[ofashesandstars]

alasdairsardothien:

“Neither.” He remarked coolly. “Just a statement of fact.” He had noticed the way the man’s gaze lingered on him and took no offence, but Alasdair was not that way inclined. Neither did he want to fight the man, although his attitude was starting to grate on him. The sudden exclamation had him folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow. “Well maybe if you had given me more information about what you wanted done rather than dropping a sack of swords at my feet, I would have been able to give a better answer.” As it was, he would still take the work. It would be a dull task compared to his other projects, but it would keep him busy and his mind focused on the task at hand rather than the darker places to which it wandered. “I’ll do the work, but I do not keep tabs open. Each job is unique and requires its own price, and I need to be able to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. Business might be good now, but you never know what the future brings. I take half the payment before the job, and half when it is done.”

Neither.

Figures he’d be boring – a hallmark of tedious people was being lame at bantering, after all. “I wouldn’t know – facts have a tendency to be subjective, after all,” he smirked, raising his arms up in a mockery of giving up, the edges of his mouth raising higher as the man turned defensive. “If you would’ve asked first, instead of assuming, I’d have told you, but no harm, no foul, eh?” Lark rapped his knuckles against the top of the table, head tilting sideways birdlike, as he inspected him like a curious-looking specimen. “Well, it was worth a try,” he tugged a pouch out of his back pocket with a shrug, figuring from the blacksmith’s self-righteous little speech that asking for a discount would be entirely useless. 

Lark was often being sent to deal with merchants and craftsmen on behalf of his order, his previous experience being tossed back and forth between a rather alarming number of apprenticeships meant that he’d accumulated plenty of knowledge in regards to the quality of the wares they needed. Normally, he even got them to drop the costs, although skimming them of too much money was frowned upon by his superiors – people had to make a living, after all. He didn’t steal – not anymore – and especially not from the dragon riders, as the last time he’d attempted that he ended up saddled with a sulky child who was already the size of a house and getting bigger every year, but he would often keep the money he’d managed to save by bartering to ply his fellow riders with drinks in whatever watering hole of the moment’s choosing.

I heard that – I’m not a child! You’re the child – and you’re the one saddling me!

His bond with Garnet thrummed with dissatisfaction and scandal, making his lips twist into an amused smirk and his eyes lose focus, his attention displaced for a moment as he tried to ascertain where his dragon currently was.

Six decades and your comebacks are still worth two shits, mate – it’s a disgrace.

Unsurprisingly, Garnet’s instinctive retort was no more creative than his first one, before his presence vanished from his head abruptly, leaving behind echoes of petulance. Legend had it that bonded riders and their dragons grew more and more similar as time went on, but Garnet was still very much the one prone to sullenness out of the pair, no matter how hard Lark tried to break him out of the habit.

“Here’s half.” he opened the pouch, counting the coins on the table top. “You’ll get the rest when I’m back for the swords. See you at closing time, blacksmith,” Lark brought to fingers to his forehead in a flippant salute, before wandering out of the shop, whistling a merry tune in an attempt to coax Garnet to return to him. 

[deermemehost]

Alignment Tracker

[ofashesandstars]

tyrnehales:

        Chaste ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Lustful     Energetic ●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Lazy     Forgiving ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Vengeful    Generous ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Selfish        Honest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ ●  Deceitful             Just ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Arbitrary       Merciful ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Cruel        Modest ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌Proud           Pious ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ ●  Worldly       Prudent ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌● Reckless  Temperate ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Indulgent      Trusting ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Suspicious     Valorous ●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Cowardly

[ofashesandstars]

@ofdraqcns [rowan]

Before Rowan came along, Lark had never had anything in the way of a guiding adult figure in his life, constantly being passed on from hand to hand and cast out with the trash, and while he might not have yearned for such a thing, he was still surprised when the elder stuck with him to the bitter end. He’d fully expected his experience as an apprentice dragon rider to be like the start of his life, an unwanted, resented problem for all who chanced to lay their eyes on him.

It had surprised him, the man’s resilience, even after he’d snuck into his room and overturned a bucketful of spiders all over his bed (they weren’t venomous, it was just a fun little prank), or when he’d laced his saddle with itching powder just before a flight lesson, and other such minor irritations that made up the spice of life in Lark’s opinion. Rowan had seen him through his training, glimpsing something in him he’d refused to see in himself. In so much as Lark could feel esteem for someone, his former mentor was the likeliest candidate for it.

Not that it amounted to much for someone like him. Lark might like Rowan, but that only meant he’d seek his company more often, and thus be given more opportunity to revert to his old ways. He’d purposefully picked a table from where the elder couldn’t see the bar when he’d invited him out for drinks, and as he was handed the bottles of ale, he viciously shook the one for Rowan before making his way back. The bottle was still firmly sealed – no doubt, by now he knew not to drink anything Lark offered unless it came in a closed flask – but his former apprentice could be trusted to find ways to circumvent that if it meant he could still mess with him after so much time. “Thanks for coming out, mate. I was going stir crazy training all day. I don’t imagine council meetings are that much fun to be in, either,” he kept up a steady stream of trivialities as he handed him the bottle and took a seat across from him, using the edge of the table, already scarred from others doing the same, to pop the cork on his own beverage.

[ofashesandstars]

oncedovah:

cue the cocked brow on athalos’ expression that followed lark’s admission, a smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his lips as he tried not to find it all …. charming.  “  it takes quite a bit to disarm a crowd, so whatever it is you’ve got there, you’re DEFINITELY using it. “ 

“Only my wits,” he spread his arms, fingers splayed to show his lack of weapons, smirk widening into a full-fledged grin. “And a well-aimed chair at just the right drunkard, at just the right time, so he could stumble into the barmaid and spill her drinks on just the right brooding asshole,” he winked, tone lowering and turning conspiratorial. “Not that I did any of that. I just watched it happen,” he continued offhandedly, the wickedness of his grin casting his last words in doubt. “Come hatchling,” he continued good-humouredly, bumping his shoulder against his. “What’s your poison? Let’s see who can charm the bartender out of the most free drinks.” he was already on his fourth, but he wasn’t about to share that and spoil his own fun.

[ofashesandstars]

hybrcdiism:

“I mean you can’t help but understand why I would assume it’s you, right?” she asked with a small smirk, nearing the other. “But, I have better thing to do, which isn’t accusing a person of something that they may or may not have done” she shrugged. “So, looks like you’re off the hook, congratulations”

Lark clutched at his chest with an over dramatic gasp. “You wound me, so. What have I ever done to wrong you?” except maybe playing some well-meaning and entirely harmless pranks, but he couldn’t be expected to remember every single person he’d ever tricked. It just sounded so mind-numbingly boring, keeping track of one’s frenemies (they were, after all, on the same side – relatively speaking, at least). “Well, I do love being let off the hook, whatever the reason. But do share – what better things you speak of? Someone can laugh at people running around like headless chickens gathering fruit only so long.”

[ofashesandstars]

alasdairsardothien:

“True, there are many blacksmiths, but none that do the work as well as I. Or at least I hope that’s the reason for my thriving business. I would hate to think people came to me for my looks and nothing more.” Alasdair was not a vain man, and never had been. He spent very little time considering his appearance, but he supposed if someone demanded his opinion, then he would say he was passably good looking. With a raised eyebrow at the man’s arrogance, Alasdair lifted the sack with one hand and used the other to take a look at the blunt swords within. “You seem to forget that my day is spent working with the heaviest tools and materials.” he set the sack down again and brushed off his hands. “I can have all of them sharpened by the end of the day. I could get them all done in just a few hours, but it depends what price you’re willing to pay.”

“Hey, as long as it keeps bread on the table,” he waved away the dilemma as inconsequential, his smirk a seemingly permanent fixture. “Are you flirting or trying to pick a fight, blacksmith?” for a moment, his grin was all teeth as he tilted his head sideways, enjoying the ripple effect of flexing muscles. He wouldn’t mind either, he decided, but still, he knew which way he’d rather this went. “Oh, for sod’s sake, don’t sharpen them! These are training swords, plenty of shit is gonna try to cut the riders to ribbons, there’s no need to do it to themselves.” Lark ambled to the sack and tugged it open, pulling out a spoiled, bent blade. “We just need them to resemble swords again. Edges blunted, just straighten them out and fix the dents. Most of these hatchlings aren’t used to their strength yet and smash them to kindling – you look like you should still remember how overexcited younguns can get.” he replaced the blade. “Since your business’s thriving so, surely the dragon riders already have a tab open with you? I keep my money only for pleasure, I’m afraid.” he batted his eyelashes in a mockery of coyness. 

[ofashesandstars]

needlsnthread:

Though her heart beated a few beats faster, disturbed by the chaos that went down outside of her shop window, her features did not give away a single emotion. Her face calm and collected as golden hues shifted, facing the man that carelessly leaned back against her counter. “Interesting how this trouble follows you then, if it even chases your clean conscience.” Naerys replied slowly, as her finger traved along a slim thread she held in her hands. “Can I be of any assistance to you, sir?”

The first thing Lark noticed about her was that she looked like a doll – not in her prettiness, though she was by no means unpleasant to look at, but because of her expressionless face and ridiculous, doe-like eyes. The smirk on his lips widened. “Maybe trouble is like dragons – drawn to shiny things,” he commented indolently, turning his head back to the ruckus outside. “Sir!” he scoffed, letting out a barking laugh. It still amused him – it would likely always do – how a street rat like him rose to such lofty heights. Though he did not like the appellative one bit. “It’s Lark, actually. Just Lark,” no last names for an abandoned half-breed like him, and he was better for it, in his opinion. “You’re already assisting me, offering me shelter in the storm,” the mocking lilt to his tone was unmistakable, and he finally turned to face her, elbows resting on the counter. “Unless you plan to chase me out?” she was a wisp of a thing, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone brought a broom to him. “May I at least know the name of my deliverer before she turns into a harpy, mistress?” such genteelism was ill-suited to his razor-sharp tongue, but he tried it on for size, anyway. 

[ofashesandstars]

Lark leaned back against the counter, completely at ease despite the chaos that had suddenly erupted all around him. “Don’t look at me,” he shrugged carelessly, a tiny smirk tugging one corner of his mouth upwards. “I’ve a clean conscience - haven’t used it once.”

[ofashesandstars]

alasdairsardothien:

Alasdair could feel his gaze boring into him, but continued about his work tidying his workshop without much attention to it. “If you’re going to admire something, it should be my work and not me personally.” With his arms crossed over his chest, he looked pointedly at the misshapen burlap by the man’s feet. “I assume you have come here with work for me?” he gestured to the sack and then to the nearby work bench, indicating that he should place the sack there. He didn’t care for things cluttering up his doorway.

“Your kind of work is on every corner, mate. Blacksmiths that look like you, not so much,” he retorted undaunted, waving a hand dismissively, not much one for appreciating unwarranted advice, but grown used to it nonetheless given his proclivity to attract the attention of preaching sorts. Nowadays, it amused him more than anything, to hear people young enough to be his grandchildren try to lecture him, but he was living proof that wisdom did not come with age, and he was quite determined never to return that kind of dubious favor. “Perceptive and pretty,” he arched an eyebrow in mock surprise, grabbing the sack one-handed and hauling it easily on the workbench with a muffled thud. “Careful, it’s much heavier than I made it look,” he commented with a shit eating grin.

[aerondudley]

Alasdair had been hard at work in the forge when he noticed someone standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadows. He did not attend to them right away, but instead finished hammering the metal he was working on into his desired shape and plunged it into a bucket of water to cool it. Steam hissed as the glowing metal struck cold water, filling the room with cloudy vapour and a sound like a thousand snakes. Cleaning the sweat and dirt from his hands with the shirt he had removed fro practicality’s sake, Alasdair rested one hand against his workbench and looked at the person in the doorway with a raised brow. “What can I do for you today?”

[ofashesandstars]

 “Oh no, don’t mind me, I’m just admiring the view, ” Lark responded laconically, a satisfied smirk dancing across his features as he leaned against the wall beside the entrance, his eyes never leaving the blacksmith’s physique. He’d been standing there for quite a while, before the man noticed him, and even then, he’d been made to wait until the blacksmith was done with his task. Not that it had particularly bothered him, were he entirely honest. Loitering was a skill he’d turned into an art, by now and with Garnet off flying without him, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to returning to the training grounds. The fact that he’d been sent here on an actual task was indifferently ignored, the sack of blunt training swords waiting to be hammered back into a relatively passable shape tossed indolently in the middle of the doorway, completely blocking the way out.

[sealorn-blog1]

OPEN STARTER

     “—– Surely you are sporting with me!”

[ofashesandstars]

Lark and Garnet have been sunning themselves out on the cliffs, and he must have dozed off, for he woke with a start, the bond with his dragon tugging at him with a familiar mixture of craving and excitement which never bode well for whoever or whatever had caught his attention. Or for his rider who’d have to clean up his mess afterwards. “Don’t go anywhere with him!” he sat up abruptly, still dazed from sleep, from behind the boulder he’d laid next to as protection from the rays.

Garnet reared back, arching his long neck and affecting a pose of wounded dignity as his rider hurried closer. “He’ll only add you to his collection and it’s dreadful work prying you away afterwards,” he grinned at the young woman, expertly ducking the tail Garnet half-heartedly swiped in his direction.

I was only offering a short fli –

“Save it, Nettie,” his smile was all teeth as he patted the drake’s flank, leaning against him and crossing his arms, giving his object of interest a lingering, impudent once over. “It’s your hair,” he explained, gesturing at the thick mane of red curls tumbling about her head. “He likes colorful things.” Garnet dipped his head, dark indigo eyes momentarily shaded when he blinked, his great snout hovering dangerously close to her as he leaned in for a closer look.  

[ofashesandstars]

LARK, who strongly resembles DUDLEY O’SHAUGHNESSY, has made the Shallune Cliffs their home. He is a 75 year old UNKNOWN/HALFLING (some elvish ancestry is suspected). He is known to be +RESILIENT & +ADAPTABLE, but also –IRREVERENT & -UNPREDICTABLE. He is a FULL dragon rider, bonded to a 63 year old DRAKE named GARNET. he is PURPLISH BLACK colored, & can be +SHREWD, but also -COVETOUS. 

Nobody knows where he came from, he was left as a babe on the stairs of a grand temple, during a late autumn night, swaddled in blankets and placed under an awning for some feeble protection against the elements. No note was fastened to his blanket, no trace of whoever abandoned him found in the city the following day. He had no name, and no one could tell for certain how old he was, though it was clear he hadn’t been long in the world at all.

For months after, he remained nameless, no one could decide what to call him, and so he was referred to as “the abandoned” – or “the baby” by those of a gentler persuasion. He didn’t cry often, but seemed healthy enough, following the people milling in and out of the room with watchful, measured eyes. As the weather improved and he got bigger, they would take him out to soak up the sun. One day, reassured by the silence inside, a lark alighted on his crib, and from then on, he was given the name he would hold on to with stubborn defiance throughout his life.

His childhood was marred by unpleasantness – while he grew without exhibiting any obvious signs of favouring one race over another, he was quite obviously not purely human, possessing more strength as a youngling than others ten years his seniors. He was fast too, which helped him evade quite a few beatings when he was too small to have learned to fight back. On top of his strangeness drawing unsavoury sorts in search of an easy target, he was an obnoxious, hot-headed and impulsive boy, making trouble for himself and others for no apparent reason. They tried to apprentice him for a trade, but he either ran away, or was kicked out for being such an unmanageable brat. Time after time, he was caught and sent back to the orphanage for a brief, but brutal, beating before being sent out again to another craftsman. It wasn’t long before all in the city vehemently refused to take charge of him, and in a fit of spitefulness and desperation, he was bundled up in a cart and sent to the Shallune Cliffs were it was hoped that the dragon riders would succeed where all else had failed. He was set to menial, but back breaking tasks, little better than an indentured servant, but not even the looming shapes of the dragons and the threat of fire, tamed his wild ways. Trouble followed him everywhere – he’d claim, brazenly lying – a street urchin perpetually dirty, perpetually hungry, perpetually cold, shivering dramatically and hunching his shoulders to appear more pitiful. He looked for trouble himself, of course, and it wasn’t rare that he ended up with singed clothes, and once even missing his eyebrows for acting the nuisance around the dragons.

With nothing to lay claim to, he was truly free, albeit a miserable sort of free, and like all those who had too little of everything, he always hungered for more. It wasn’t glory he was after, it was infamy, born out of despondency and selfishness and a grim view of the world. However, the life at the Cliffs did wean him off a habit of stealing he had in the big city – if only because here he was far likelier to get caught. It didn’t mean his tendency was altogether vanquished, and despite people’s tendency to look down on him as baseborn, he did possess a desperate sort of cunning and after months of watching, and waiting, he finally managed to break into the hatchery without tripping up the wards. He had no grand delusions of himself as a rider, instead he wanted an egg to steal and sell somewhere on the black market, having seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know they were highly valued as potent ingredients for black spells. Even without expectation, his mind began buzzing as soon as he dropped inside through one of the skylights. Everything around him was fuzzy, and it wasn’t because of the lack of light. Something seemed to tug at him, compelling him to walk further inside.

I don’t need you, he thought. I don’t need anybody. I can be great on my own.

Together we’ll be greater.  

The egg that had drawn him so powerfully was a dull black, seeming to him as though it had been tossed in a corner simply to be forgotten. He resisted for a few more seconds, the buzzing flowing and ebbing through his brain, but eventually he gave in, submitting to impulse as was his nature.

An elder found him the following morning, sleeping curled up around a black hatchling, whose scales sifted and glowed purple in the light coming through the windows.

Garnet, he’d called him, and he was a vicious little beast from the start. Vicious and possessive of his new rider, sitting perched on his shoulder when he was still young, and later on following him around wherever he went. They were both apprenticed, without any dissent, despite his terrible record – there was nothing else to do once the bond was created, save slaughter them both, and Lark was still young enough for people to think he could be improved upon, however little hope they held for such an outcome. Yet he surprised them all by his quickness of mind, and the progress was swift, both for him and his unruly drake. They never quite lost their rebellious, back talking propensities, but they were good students, and hard working. They seemed to have endless resilience, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to obsessively stick to a task, no matter the weather, or the time of day, until they could manage it perfectly. Both of them stubborn by nature, both with a chip on their shoulder (Garnet was one of the oldest eggs, always failing to bond with new riders whenever they took him out) the bond only exacerbated these characteristics – they were eager to prove themselves.

He became a full rider, achieving the title on his own merits, years before news of the dread began to spread. He and Garnet are independent and reclusive on missions; they don’t enjoy following others’ flight plans and they prefer flying solo. However, whenever they’re separated (and it’s happening more and more often if they’re posted at the Cliffs for longer periods of time) they’re boisterous and sociable, trying to engage others in whatever time wasting activities they cook up on the spot.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

- His former mentor. It would have to be someone with rather a lot of patience and keen to see the good in people as he’d have been a massive little shit. I mean, he’d do what he was told, more often than not, but also mouth off and acting the nuisance. Same for his dragon. taken by @ofdraqcns - He’s only been a full dragon rider for a little over a decade, but if anyone needs a mentor themselves, Lark is open for his first ever apprentice. - Acquaintances, friends, former flames (not much romance would have been involved). He is bi and quite undiscerning in his choice of partners so if anyone would have looked for a quick roll in the hay he’s your guy. - I have literally no ideas/plans for his actual parentage/how he ended up in an orphanage, but if anyone’s feeling inspired, I won’t say no to working something out. He could be half-dwarf/half-elf, or half-human/half-another halfing etc.  

 HEADCANONS

- His name is surprisingly apt. He actually does have a very good singing voice, but he normally only uses it with Garnet.    - He wears almost exclusively black. When it’s not black, it’s dark gray, and that’s about as colorful as he gets. - He’s a Scorpio, ESTP (The Doer), Chaotic Neutral (Free Spirit) and Slytherin - His dragon breathes black fire – the color is very similar to his scales, so in daylight there’s a tinge of purple to the flames. They’re very, very good at sneaking up on others during battle, as Garnet is quite silent in flight. At night, they’re practically invisible. The titles they’ve acquired so far usually have “black” somewhere in them: The Black Rider/Ghost, Darkfire, The Shadow, The Black Death (…can you tell I’m terrible at this?!?!?!?!)