The Origins of Rowan
Not many dragons know the feeling of being unwanted. Even fewer know the pain of self-imposed exile from all you knew. Those dragons who do... deserve utmost sympathy and pity. Sanguine emerged from his egg as a hellion of the worst kind. He'd start fights with his smaller broodmates, and use his small size to attempt annoying pranks on the other members of his clan. He disobeyed his parents for the sake of rebellion and spat in the face of order. As a result, despite his young age at the time, many of his clanmates grew to despise him. He's more trouble than he's worth, they'd say hatefully. That Sanguine, he's a bad egg, they'd murmur amongst themselves. But Sanguine ignored them all, despite the ache in his heart, and used their words of spite to fuel his anger, as motivation to do what he did best and do it better -- and his pranks got meaner. The straw that broke the camel's back was when one of Sanguine's pranks went horribly, horribly wrong. He'd felt numb as he stared at the little dragon in horror - one of the new hatchlings, he'd thought, not his intended target, and definitely not his prank's intended effect - and wished fervently that it wouldn't lay so still. The little one did eventually awake, not that Sanguine would know - struck by fear and dread, bearing the knowledge that his clanmates despised him and know, surely, they'd want retribution for possibly taking the life of a newborn... Sanguine fled. He ran off into the wilderness, flying as fast and as far as his little, still undeveloped wings could take him. Sanguine flew for days, for as long as he could, barely taking the time to sleep, eat, drink, too overcome with fear to stop. They'll come get me, said the voice in his head, they'll come find me and hurt me like I hurt that hatchling. His young body held out for as long as it could, starved, parched, sleep-deprived as it was, just barely continuing to move by the sheer force of Sanguine's will and fear. The last thing Sanguine remembered was flying, then - then- then falling, his wings too weak to carry him any longer, and then - and then - and then -- Sanguine awoke to the sound of soft humming. Filled with dread, he attempted to escape his... bed? Confused, he looked around, seeing a cave with shelves carved out of the rock, carrying innumerable vials of potions and salves. "Ah, you're finally awake, little one. How does your head feel?" A female skydancer, the only other dragon in the cave and presumably the one humming earlier, approached him. Sanguine tried to get up and escape with newfound fervor, only to fail as his body was too weak and fall out of the bed. "Careful now. You've already hit your head once, no need to do it again." The skydancer with fur like the sky, carefully picked him up and hushed him, placing him back on the bed. She left his view momentarily, returning with a vial full of creamy liquid and making him drink it. Immediately he felt calmer, his head clearer and not possessed by mad fear. "Wait here, little one," the skydancer said. "I'll be back soon. There's someone who'd like to meet you." True to her word, the skydancer returned in minutes with another female skydancer in tow. The second skydancer, with crystalline fur like snow and draped in a pink-purple veil, swiftly made her way to him. Sanguine felt struck by her aura of confidence, pinned in place by her piercing yet kind gaze. "Hello, little red. My name is Fableweaver. I am the leader of the Ynuungaap clan. We found you on our outskirts, badly hurt and bleeding heavily from a head wound. Tell me, do you remember your name? Where you came from?" "My name is S-" Sanguine caught himself. If he told her, would she send him back? I can't go back, not now, not ever, whispered the voice in his head. Swallowing back his fear, he said shakily, "I don't... remember." Fableweaver's eyes shone with knowing, and Sanguine felt fear that she'd force him to tell, and panic started to rise in his chest. Then her eyes softened, and she said, "That's a shame. I suppose you can stay with us then. It would be bad for you to go out on your own." Sanguine felt relief flood through his veins, dousing the embers of terror in his heart. "Hmm... you do still need a name though," pondered Fableweaver. The other skydancer suggested, "Well, Fable, he's rather red, isn't he? Like a little rowan berry." Sanguine blanched -- that name sounded so... so girly! Yuck! Fableweaver's eyes became thoughtful, then she said, "No, not Rowanberry. How about just Rowan?" Sanguine nodded quickly. That was a much better name than Rowanberry. "Well, all right then. Rowan it is," agreed Fableweaver before turning to the other skydancer. "Valentina, is it all right for me to show him around? Don't worry, I'll carry him." The other skydancer - Valentina, huffed and nodded. Fableweaver gently picked him up, and walked out of the cave. As the matriarch pointed out certain areas and told him about them, he began to feel safe, and as the other dragons in the clan greeted them cheerfully, he began to feel welcome. He was struck with determination. I'm not gonna mess it up this time. Not like before. As that day drew to a close, Fableweaver brought him back to the healer's cave, and he ached with a sudden familial longing. Sanguine - no, Rowan wanted to stay with the kind and motherly clan leader, and longed for it with all his might, but kept silent. As though peering into his thoughts with her shadowy purple eyes, the Arcane clan leader said, "Now, Rowan, forgive me for being patronising, but you're much too young to live on your own. Once Valentina gives you the all-clear, how would you feel about staying with me?" Rowan stared at her with awe, and could only nod his assent, too blissfully happy to speak. A warm smile, a mother's smile graced Fableweaver's face, and she nuzzled him gently, continuing, "I'll give you time to think on it, but how would you feel if I officially adopted you? I've been much too busy lately to have a nest of my own, but with my broods having left me for other clans or to serve the Arcanist, I... I've been feeling awfully lonely." Rowan was too stunned to respond while Fableweaver quickly blinked away what looked like tears, then he blurted out, "I-- I'd love it! If you, uh, adopted me!" Fableweaver chuckled and hushed him, murmuring about how there was no rush and to think on it for a day or two, but Rowan had decided.