Rostarians
Humans in themselves are peculiar creatures. They are born to die. One’s reason for this differs depending on their obviously erroneous beliefs; few mortals understand this.
We Rostarians are a rare species of dragon/human Halflings. By day, we take the form of lanky, pale mortals with dark, disheveled hair that falls limply into our eyes. Our electric-blue, crystalline irises that appear to dance around our carefully crafted, ink black, vertical slits obtain the power of manipulation. In a moment’s notice, they can entrance a measly mortal into undertaking any task: regardless of degree.
Our exquisite beauty in our mortal form lures humans of the opposite gender to us; but after the sun sinks into the east- diminishing the vibrant peachy orange and floral pink lights from the darkening sky- we lose our exotic form. We morph into the ugly creatures that we are.
Emaciated, scaly wings sprout out of our lower back as we triple in size. Our once flawless creamy-white skin dries up and cracks. Our former angelically crafted, facial facade distorts into a pointed, crusty snout. Our dainty hands desiccate into bony remnants of their former shape. We cultivate a long scrawny tail spiked at the tip. Our ghostly-pale complexion darkens into a midnight blue; barely visible in the haze of the night. We let out a macabre screech of pain as our heart heats up and swells; sending a jolt of adrenaline through our veins; giving us the strength to kick off the ground and soar into the firmament.
The nightly transformation of a Rostarian is a painful process.
On the island that harbors said creatures; Rostaria, ruled a royal family. They were Rostarians with fair, tamed hair and emerald green eyes. Said physical traits were common in Rostaria. So, it was fairly easy to differentiate between a Rostarian and a foreigner whom had entered their kingdom.
Rostarians were highly prejudiced; they couldn’t tolerate anyone whose descendants couldn’t be traced back to Rostaria- these descendants are known as BlueBloods. The Rostarians, in fear of losing their purity kingdom-wide, set many precautions to ensure that the only people allowed into Rostaria were the BlueBloods.
One unpleasantly cold winter’s day, their princess- Andromeda , age 15– had gone for a stroll near the outskirts of Rostarian land. The land stretched from the shore of the island, half way towards the middle where a large and tall stone wall stood separating Rostaria from it’s neighboring kingdom, Escrona.
For as long as she remembered, Andromeda would wake up early every morning and climb the stone wall to watch the sunrise and the Escronians rise with it. Unlike the Rostarians, the Escronians valued work, and the pursuit of knowledge and the pursuit of the pure ecstasy laced around honesty like a bow. Their morals and values were the complete opposite of Andromeda’s kingdom.
And she admired them for that. She longed to one day have the courage to jump from her spot on that tall, cobblestone wall and meet all the wonderful, beautiful people. She was unquestionably intrigued.
That morning, she sat on the ledge of the wall, watching the people scurry about their morning business.
The sun had begun rising from the east, painting an array of vibrant pink and orange light on the dull clouds looming low in the sky. The floral colors stretched across the horizon, dancing on the peaks of the distant mountains, and kissing the surface of the surrounding deep ocean blue. She marveled at the creation and sighed in contentment.
“Beautiful, the sunrise is. Is it not?” another voice stated nonchalantly.
Andromeda jerked her head to the side in surprise, almost losing her balance. When had he come up here? She could’ve sworn she was alone moments ago. Who was he anyway? Definitely not a Rostarian . Judging by his milky white skin, jet black hair and muddy blue eyes; he was an Escronian. The first she’d ever spoken to; her eyes grew wide in awe as this realization dawned on her.
“It is.” She stated matter-of-factly. “I come up here to watch it every morning; so I’d know.” She boasted smirking inwardly.
She angled her body towards the boy and took in his appearance; he wasn’t much older than her. A grin toyed at his mouth and reached his eyes with a faint sparkle. He was exotic. Rostarians looked nothing like that.
He dressed very well, for an Escronian. His people were usually associated with inferiority- so it was a tad odd for him to be sporting such sophisticated attire. He wore an inky blue robe with a silver cutwork edged collar with matching sleeve cuffs and marble-white gloves. His shoes were polished black to match his dark robe. The boy wore a gray capotain- a tall hat with a feather - and held in his palm a silver, rather expensive looking pocketwatch with an engraved message: Lumina, fugit malum. Light shuns all evil. The words were inscribed in a circle made by the body of a dragon. How intriguing.
Andromeda looked drab in comparison; despite her royal background. She wore a plain, emerald green, knee length dress; dull brown flats; and a brown bow pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.
The boy was the first to break the silence that had gone on a little longer than she had planned.
“I’m surprised one of your liking can appreciated the simplicity of beauty.” he remarked his eyes glazed over in thought.
“Well I do. “ she said in an offended yet articulate manner with her chest heaved high and her nose even higher. “Just because my family doesn't value the important things in life, doesn’t mean I’m just as close minded. And it’s unfair to me for one to think otherwise.”
The boy eyed her from under his dark eyelashes, “Someone has to take the blame though. The crime of indifference, ignorance; they must be put to justice. For not one foe should go without trial.”
She instinctively backed away as he made himself towards her. “You’ll pay for the burdens your father has put upon my people. You will suffer with the curse of metamorphosis.” His eyes flashed with an abstract animosity.
“What… I didn’t..” Andromeda was at loss for words. He pulled out his pocket watch once more.
“Lumina, fugit malum. Take on the curse of the night, bound by time, fed by fright. A slave to dusk, you’ve become.” He turned the knob on his time keeper thrice and Andromeda fell to her knees. Her hair darkened, her skin paled, her heart froze. She was the first to endure the curse of the Rostarians; passing it down to all her children. Passing it on to me.
8.30.14 / Andii . (malfoyficent)