Chapter Text
—/—/—/—/—/—/ Goob /—/—/—/—/—
Goob never quite… fit in. In his tribe, upon being born, the moon would bestow upon the dragonet either the ability to read minds or predict the future, sometimes even both in they were born under two moons. When born under three, they’d have both and the abilities would be much stronger than the abilities of other nightwings.
But Goob? Well, for whatever reason, he was born without any abilities. The other nightwings often made fun of him for it, and he supposed he could understand.
He was different. You were never supposed to be different in this tribe. It made him an outcast, and he was used to it by now. He had to be.
Even during his own naming exam, where nightwings would often be named for their abilities, he was made fun of.
He didn’t particularly… pass that exam with flying colors. They deemed him unworthy, refused to give him a name, and kicked him out. But the rainwings had welcomed him. Maybe they were the only tribe that would.
Well, more like they 100% were. They were the only docile tribe and they were as lazy as he was always told they were. They didn’t even have a proper queen! They just switched who was queen every month.
However, they seemed to have one natural weapon, and it was their venom, which was interesting because The Nightwing Guide To The Dragons of Pyhrria said that they had none. So did they simply not know? How was that possible?
While he was there, he was originally nicknamed as “Goob” because he looked like, in the words of a rainwing, he, “looks like a black puddle of goo.”
In good time, he simply picked Goob up as his actual name, since he was never given one and wasn’t quite sure what else to call himself.
—/—/—/—/—/— Beetle —/—/—/—/—/—/—
Beetle used to live in Cicada Hive, where, much like all silkwings, she was mistreated by hivewings. She was forced to wear a heavy metal wristband that had her school name on it, followed by another heavy metal wristband on her other arm that read, “Weaving apprentice.”
When she was older, the plan the hivewings had for her was that she was to become a silk-weaver and make tapestries for the hives likely to either educate other little silkwings how to if she was to be stationed as a teacher, or to create Queen Wasp propaganda and repeat the same things silkwings and hivewings alike have heard all their lives, always something along the lines of, “Leafwings are bad and evil. They should be extinct because Queen Wasp cares so much about you worms, but report one if you somehow cross paths with it.”
However, on her Metamorphosis Day, she ended up spinning a weird silk that glowed warmly and it was golden but firey.
Before she knew it, the crowd was all freaking out and hivewing guards took her away. She would later emerge from her chrysalis to be somewhere entirely different.
All the silk wings here looked miserable and were all spinning the same kind of silk she did. She later found out that it was called “flame silk.”
How odd it was, flame silk. There were lots of different kinds. One that was just a firey orange but didn’t glow nor burn, one that was very similar but glowed slightly, another one that glowed brightly but still didn’t burn, traditional flame silk that flowed brightly and burned, and one that could only be spun in small amounts but glowed very brightly and burned strongly.
What she quickly noticed is that — besides the last one, — her own flamesilk couldn’t hurt her, however she was warned that it could hurt other dragons.
She ended up finding her way out of that place as quickly as possible. It was too… well, depressing. However, even that doesn’t even sum up how it was like in there, even though she was only in there for a few days.
She followed lots of little islands and it took her a few week, but she found another continent. ”Could this be The Lost Kingdoms?” She asked herself in her head. It certainly didn’t look lost. In fact, there were dragons flying all around.
Small, almost blobby yet muscular brown dragons with floppy ears that always seemed to be in groups of varying sizes, always following the biggest of them. They were in the marshes.
White, spiky, and huge dragons that lived in the tundra area. They had blubber and lots of fluff to keep themselves warm.
Ones that varied from tan or yellow to orange, red, or even pink with huge wings that lives around the mountains and seemed to have some kind of… arena? She hoped that wasn’t still in use.
Here and there she could spot some sandy tan dragons that sometimes were darker or lighter to the point of almost if not just straight up white. They had scorpion-like barbs on their tails and they lived in the desert. She couldn’t see many of them, but she assumed they were just all blended in.
Very rarely, she’d see dragons that were much smaller than even the brown marshland ones that would emerge from the sea to trade with the marshland dragons. They ranged from blues and purples to even greens and yellows, had scales that would occasionally light up in patterns for whatever reason, gills, webbed feet, and big, strong tails. They were likely primarily marine dragons.
Sometimes, she’d see colorful dragons with curled tails, frills, and occasionally pet sloths. They would sometimes burst up from below the dense canopy of the rainforest.
The rainforest dragons seemed peaceful enough and even reminded her a bit of herself and other silkwings with their colorful scales. So, that being said, she decided to land in the rainforest.