Tuli's So Swells the Swarm Gold Elicheritath

So young were you, when first you came, fierce as tigers and alone, in your ways…

Final Smolders of Asgard Egg

It hunkers low and grim and coarse as tree bark. Ancient in blistered burnt-browns, gravity binds in the thick knuckled cables comprising this egg's shell, packed tight as fisted tree roots. Knitted throughout, wild somehow, inevitable, the tangles broil in a serpentine battle, swallowing up and folding over along every writhing, rounded contour, outward-spearing spikes and gnashing spines snarl in suggestions of wolfish jaws and jutting, twisting vertebrae. All earthen-black tones, this base, solid and weighty, but at the narrow top there is an abrupt burst, an outward flowing firework of stark, glittering gems in burning crimson and frozen cobalt, set in amongst the tangles like brilliant jewels on a ragged thorny crown. They pour down the egg's rounded sides as falling comets, intermingling fire and ice, trailing searing tails of ruby and sapphire specks behind them.


On first touch, you were shaken deeply. Do you remember the fire? The despair hidden bone deep and trembling,
that it put an ache in your bones, to feel such cruel hope waiting just beyond…

Despair overtakes you almost instantly. Sorrow and sadness welling up, emotions spilling over the top as a horrific scene slowly forms in front of your mind’s eye. Destruction, ruin, death, disaster. Does this foretell the future? It’s hard to say. The emotions are not your own, but that of another. Though how deeply they touch to your very soul, perhaps a small formation of fluid starts leaking from thy eyes due to the crashing waves of nonstop feelings. Blackened ashes of former comrades, skeletal bones unknown to be human or beast. Trees once flourishing with bright leaves are charred remains of their former glory. It’s endless, it continues, no matter where the eye looks, nothing but ruin awaits. Though maybe… wait… maybe. Yes. A small hole in the bottomless emotions. A light, something else is out there! Something else lives! A hand reaching, reaching, calling out for you, for anyone to just grab hold because hope! There is always, /always/ hope! Before it can connect, alas, it’s withdrawn, back inside, back away. Black soot clouding over your vision. It is the End of Times.

But beyond comes, like a sunrise at the end of a bitter black night, casting out its searing golden brilliance to exonerate the land in a cleansing by fire.

Hatching Message

Final Smolders of Asgard Egg writhes and churns. Its thick cabled walls constrict, contract like muscles and then loosen again as a beating heart. Breathing, broiling. This is its finale, the end of its world is nigh. Hush, as it shudders from the spill of crimson and cobalt, glinting first like a million spidery eyes and then tearing splits down its sides and striking through the gnarled branches like a falling sky, bruising the world tree with searing cold and boiling hot. Wince! For it battles itself into its own destruction - but? Where each split forms, there is hope yet, a new life winks in the center of its roots. First a hint, then more, rough treebark-tentacles uncoiling like frayed rope from around their core like legion fingers. From here the brave new world erupts from the ruination of the former, glinting dark and expanding forth as a golden swarm to take her place in the realm.

She came forth like a roar, a tempest force on soft feet.

So Swells the Swarm Gold Dragonet

Like a jewel-droplet of honey welled up from a pit of tar, she is gold at her core and terrible for it, a burnt-burnished amber overrun by legion-swarms of dust mote shadows. These faint fleck-storm slashes will thicken to branches, though first a fine wispy gauze of dark webbing across her back, where delicately needled 'ridges pierce upward, then amassing into oily rivulets cascading off torso to puddle in pitch at extremities. Here, form fit gloves of slick black are barely warmed by watery whispers of gold patina, coating the shadows in secondhand sunlight. Her every inch is metallic-hard, this spider queen, where sharp knees and elbows angle outward, limbs stark in length and whipcord lean, compact body hung low in a taut arachnid crouch. Defiant goldleaf flakes hammer her chest and throat in fierce glimmers, sable face sharp and dusted with golden freckles while sooty wings shimmer towards their edges with a trim of searing gold glints, fine gossamer threads of gilding cornsilk tatters.

Cool, knowing, she’d torn your soul asunder and found a heart on fire, to match her soft steel.

Public Impression Pose

So Swells the Swarm Gold Dragonet has taken her time, gazing at several female candidates without regard for the activity around her, always deciding that, no, this is not the one to balance her, and turning away with a soft, regretful spinnersilk dismissal. Chitinous 'spars make efficient clicks as she adjusts her wings with businesslike movements and looks now in a different direction. Her head turns this way and that, armored gold glinting along her chest and up her neck, and then her gaze fastens tight to one shape — spinner-threads catching a glance, a voice — and her body following behind; she steps lightly toward one of the tallest Candidates, weaving agilely between the other humans and dragons as she discerns her purpose at last. And comes to a serene standstill squarely in front of Tuli.

And she joined her will to yours. And yours to hers.

Private Impression Message

Soft as a sigh, the shadows descend. Lights dim away and the world grows dark. Delicately unraveling from all sides, so stark and livid with their silky glimmer, fine gossamer threads take shape, glinting quicksilver light and tinsel-fine. Look down and see, lacing and interweaving, they form a perfect web that settles you gently, deftly at its center. Softly, a musing out loud. « Tuulllliiii. » A voice whispers in smoke-and-honey, throaty soprano light as delicate feet would need to be, to traverse this dangerous lace with ease. You feel it, when she descends from above, slow and elegant in her simple stately grace, suspended from a fine flossy filament to settle lightly about your shoulder. Like a blanket of silk, her touch cool to the sides of your neck. « …Yes. Tuli is a fiiiine name. » Eventually, this pensive verdict, and you’re released, without ever knowing you’d been dangling suspended. With a gust of wind, so many wisps of web tatters drift away into shadow, the last heard as
the skitter of small insectile feet zipping from sight. « I am Elicheritath. We have much to discuss, you and I.»

And together, the two of you will take your rightful place, the burning chill and golden fury of your combined power,at the foot of destiny.

Hold your breath.

It's time.

Oh, Tuli. Sweet Tuli. You crept into our garden and you settled into our soil as though overnight. We’ve watched you bud, we’ve watched you blossom, we’ve watched you put down deep roots and raise up expansive branches and you’ve had us in stitches every step of the way, until it feels there was never a time you WEREN’T a part of High Reaches! We’ve chased you through the jungles and we’ve chased you through the mountain snow, we set all kinds of crap on fire, dunked you in a pond, destroyed property, made you wear silly dresses, and at some point you got creepy-little-girl’d by an egg. Now? Now we’re going to give you a FLAMETHROWER and a giant carnivorous winged reptile! Surprise! Here is your Spider Queen, Tuli. She’ll swarm you, maybe, as plagues are wont to do, but you can’t blame what is her nature. We hope she’s everything you wanted and more — and that you stay many moons with us and see what else you can set on fire along the way. Who knows, you and your gold might just put a few fires out now and again as well…

Egg Inspiration

From the Poetic Edda:

Hart er í heimi,

hórdómr mikill

—skeggǫld, skálmǫld

—skildir ro klofnir—

vindǫld, vargǫld—

áðr verǫld steypiz.

Mun engi maðr

ǫðrom þyrma.

It is harsh in the world,

whoredom rife

—an axe age, a sword age

—shields are riven—

a wind age, a wolf age—

before the world goes headlong.

No man will have

mercy on another

So this is Ragnarok, the twilight of the Norse gods. The great roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasil, are chewed by the monstrous corpse-devouring dragon, Niohoggr while the gods wage a battle from the underworld; to the world of man, Midgard; and clear to the dwellings of the gods, Asgard itself. Fenrir, the demon wolf, will break the chains binding him and devour Odin, king of the gods and Surt, leader of the Fire Giants from the flaming realm of Muspell, will fling his blade into the sky, causing a rain of fire and ice. All worlds will fall into destruction.

As the prophecy goes, however, all isn't lost, however - this cleansing by fire is only clearing the stage for a time of eternal peace from the ashes. Hidden deep in the tree roots of Yggdrasil, a single man and woman have taken refuge: Lif and Lifthrasir. And when they emerge, they will repopulate the Earth once more.

Egg desc itself based off a doodle illustration! (Seen in intro.)

Theme Inspiration

The overarching clutch theme of this cycle is Harbingers, those subtle first signs of some greater coming event, notching in neatly on the tail of the apocalypse eggs. For your gold, Tuli, we could think of nothing better than the theme Locusts. Through out the ages, a swarm of these small cousins to grasshoppers have been known as the harbingers of starvation and pestilence to come.

What the gnawing locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten; And what the swarming locust has left, the creeping locust has eaten; _ And what the creeping locust has left, the stripping locust has eaten.

— Joel 1:4

Expanded from this is a great deal of insect-inspirations, from cicadas to grasshopers and pretty much any variety of creepy-crawly that takes to the air en mass to form thick plagues of BUG along the land. And, naturally, follows then their natural predator. The spider is by far the embodiment of so many things that are Elicheritath. Delicate as their webs, as efficient as their bites, soft-footed and capable of great stealth, great silence and a stately poise, maternal in her own way and brutally hard where needs be, she comes, she conquers and she settles in before you may even know she’s there. There’s even a little soft-touch of Charlotte’s Web woven in amongst her fine-woven parts. There to find as you go along…


Description Inspiration

Elicheritath’s looks were inspired from many things, spiders and black webs, dark swarms of insects in shadow and the rich, deep gold of amber. Her unique markings, however, were inspired most by the image that follows - a forest of bare trees silhouetted against a murky-golden sky, ominous, reserved, hiding so many creeping things in their stark foliage yet compelling somehow all the same.


So much to explore, so many shadows, so many reasons to be wary…

Name Inspiration

Unlike some dragon names which required a lot of mental sweating, Elicheritath’s name actually snapped right together. We started with the word “Chelicerata,” the name of the subphylum to which spiders (along with ticks, scorpions, mites, and even horseshoe crabs!) belong. We also wanted to include something of her mother’s name, Talicanitath. Add in a pinch of anagram, and: Elicheritath. Its sounds mimic the chitinous tapping of spidery legs as they unfold — creeping and yet somehow also stately. Intricate. And ever, ever so precise.



All threads unwind, rushing sleek towards the center…

Elicheritath's mind is something almost agonizing in its delicacy, painstaking in small details, somehow thoughtful and kind, yet alien as well, and uncomfortably objective. Close your eyes, dare to savor, and it will be soft, so silky, her gentle caress to your cheek, woven through with such subtle words and deft touches to soothe like cool fingers against a feverish brow.

« Wake up, Tuliiii… » Against these winking hair-fine filaments, her voice will be equally soft, a rich, whispering soprano -
not whispering from shyness, but from comfort, savoring the cool, self-possessed peace she dwells in so that it’s a rich variety
of sensual quiet, and prone to draw out words when she feels they warrant emphasis.
« We must ariiiiise. Lendai comes to speak with us. »

At her center she dwells, where a thousand fine threads of gossamer silver converge, putting herself the watchful center point of her own carefully woven myriad paths. Innocuous, in a way, understated and so often prone to quietly entertaining herself with her own threads, like a woman quietly knitting in the corner of a room, you could almost forget she’s there. Which may perhaps be the point, because while she steps softly, with the sense of so many little feet she also steps often.

Quickly, in very little time, she’ll weave discrete webs up in the corner of the minds of those dragons she’s thinking of, even if she has nothing particularly to say - it’s just her way, a light touch of minds like doing inventory of the dragon she might be thinking about at the time, especially those she interacts most with… As her fellow Weyrling dragons will quickly find, when she’s picking up fine crystalline small droplets of water in one of Oroqaith’s hidden back alleys or spun up in the high cliffs of Ligryth’s chilly oceanscape. She is gold, and her command could come down hard and ruthless, but she doesn’t chose this route in her communication. Why bother? It’s not painful for her threads to occasionally break, to be punched through by a rogue projectile or pulled down and otherwise swept up as cobwebs.

Elicheritath has mastered the art of communication through concession. Where one thread breaks, she recoils only the single leg that had been resting on it, and will, once the time is right, quietly return it as easily as a business woman might smooth a crease in her powersuit. And perhaps tucking a small memento into her pocket while she’s at it. Her sticky-fine webs, when invested in conversation with other dragons, or fresh from a good conversation that she’s still mulling over, will often be clung over with residual detritus and leaf-litter. They will shimmer with sparkles of dew from Ligryth’s seaspray, or sag under the weight of ash distributed from a conversation with Morkarth. Shimmering with a frosting of crystals from Qyth, a craftily caught black feather from Tindraeth, a rare leaf from the gardens of Llioramasith. Or even, so subtly, a touch of eerie gray sand from a courtly dialogue with Ysvarth, all collected spare and fragile in keep-sake cocoons, suspended and dangling
for when she cares to get them out again.

Not that she will always be so passive in her touch - when she has a message she specifically desires to impart, she can become overwhelming, legion in her invasions. Cocoons and ominous spun-up packages stuck across her sticky traps will split open, pour fourth their contents in a swarm of buzzing, humming insects, other times she’ll come washing along the ground in a black wave of a million spinners, a choking plague that, if she is angry, can hum to a consuming level of natural, hungry fury. Which… won’t be that often, and will probably come as a last resort. More often, she’ll descend as a single multi-legged pendulum visitor, lowering by her spinneret into another mind where she’ll idly swing as she makes her comment or imparts her command and then will ascend her own self-same ladder, vanishing with a final flash of silvery loop before it’s pulled away with her.

« Ligrythhh. » Like a miniature trapeze artist, she lowers herself upside down, spinning and spinning and spinning as she comes, her husky soprano idly amused with her own reverie. « Tuli is running laaate, so please don’t let us hold up lessons for the others? We’ll be along. Withh apologies. » She then nimbly twists herself right-side up and scurries up out of sight.

Even privately, on her own or in just sharing her thoughts with you, those soft filaments, glinting silver as moonlight, lush and intricate, are more than decoration. If you watch - and you will need to watch close, in the dead of the night when the magic happens most stark - you’ll realize not a tinsel-winking string is stationary. They wisp, they drift. Eternally being built, rebuilt, torn down and re-strung back together again by the placement of her words, or the placement of words spoken to her, or the shape of her thoughts. She puzzles and tests, reevaluates and undoes her own conclusions free of pride or shame. Rogue flutter-moths of doubt will bumble through her shadows until snagged, shivering and bucking against the fine steely cling of her conviction. If her fiber is too weak, she will be humble enough to allow them break, and to re-explore what made them so. But more often, these small aerial dissenters will be shackled, stuck down and ensnared, grown weaker and weaker against her clinical, objective grip until they are tightly bound, wrapped up firmly and, in the end… devoured.

She is a web, Tuli. A trap, to others surely, but to you as well, if you let her be. So take heed. Not all that is dangerous will be overt, and not all that binds will be to your destruction.

You might find that, when you’re growing angry with someone or getting ready to raise your voice, she might trip you up first in your thoughts, like a gentle hand on your shoulder where you struggle for a moment, that you might give pause to think before voicing your own response. Her fine-honed traps and structured fortifications are as deliberate as they are subtle, and you will do well to recognize what they are and what they represent, or you might find yourself walking in circles until you, yourself, are wound up and prey to her soft-steel trappings.


In looks, she’s disconcerting from the start, your arachnid queen. Her movements are oil-slick-creeping and liquid in their rapid, low-slung grace, her long limbs alarmingly quick in how they motor-snatch in end-overend unison, where long delicate toes are padded and sensitive. Stealth is not hers by deliberation, it is hers by nature. She’ll have an uncanny knack from the start of placing herself behind people, dead center in their blind spots, lurking as a monster of swarmed golden shadow where she will remain, silent as stone, her presence so reserved as to be invisible to the senses… until those in her attention have the misfortune to turn around. With her deep natural crouch, which folds in her long, long fingers and settles her nearly belly-down on the ground, all four limbs are curled up in a natural ‘springing’ position, expect a lot of swearing when this happens.

Her base coat is metallic, flashing and then overshadows into murky reflection, dark burnt-burnished amber-gold that glints nearly black in different lighting - this coloration and her naturally low-set center of balance hung between her knees and elbows are both well embodied in this picture.


And stacking up all along her body are inconsistent vertical streaks of darkness. It’s wrong to say black, when they glint iridescent gold when the light strikes them properly, a brassy slick layer of oil on the night, but they will look it. Oh, will they ever. These rippling streaks are a gift from her golden dam, who dwells in a subtle shadow-dappling herself. But what is a subtle whisper across Talicanitath’s hide crescendos to a stark keen on her daughter. Though these streaks are a subtle towards her surface, present in only a thin barely-visible net across her back, leaving her long, needle-sharp neckridges entirely unblemished in nearly a dorsal stripe of pure liquid amber, they thicken as they pour down her body, trickles of grease-glimmering merging together into streams and finally into torrents of gold-glinting night, encasing all four of her legs, the end of her tail and masking her face in a murky sable.

And more curious yet, while appearing somewhat as nets and tiger-bar finger-streaks from a distance, on closer inspection this dark forest of shapes proves to be made up of small charcoal flecks, converging together to form an artificial gloom through the legion-number of their swarm. A phenomenon viewed best here, against a golden sky.


But don’t assume your quick-footed gold is darkness incarnate. Even as sunlight will filter through darkest of branches, there are brilliant points of deviant, gleaming goldleaf flakes pounding a path up her chest and the front of her proud throat, like irregular stones of shimmering gems that flash almost mirror-bright, expanding in a fine glittering swarm of their own, rising up the front of her neck to settle a gold dust layer of delicate freckles along either side of Elicheritath’s sharply-boned cheeks.

This bright, fearless gold returns again at the far trimming of her sails, where the gloom will be slashed and slit through by a golden-bright series of fine, fine gossamer filaments, wheaten and proud of her Queen’s heritage as silky-spun webs lace the parameters of sail’s fine webbing, thin as violin strings with which she can stroke the air in flight.


And what a curious sound that will be. Her skin will uniformly be an uncomfortable dry oily-slick texture so smooth you may need to invest in a chamois saddle so as not to slip upon her lustrous hide, so hard to the touch your nails may click. It will be like a gleaming polished-steel callous to almost bring to mind words like chitinous, and carapace. Armored. And while her movements are eerily weightless, so painstakingly deliberate that the speed in which she can motor across great lengths of ground is as deceptive as it is deeply disconcerting, they will be accompanied by an occasional… sound. Though normally blessed with the deathly-soft silence of silk, Elicheritath’s parched skin will sometimes give her away, even when kept oiled constantly. A quiet click-clack when her knuckles or toes brush against one another. So rare and deft from her velvety stealth it will raise even the hairs on your neck at times, Tuli.

Her wingsails will develop a dry-leaf, scratchy texture, rubbing against themselves in soft sighs and adjustments that they crinkle subtly. Crackle. When they open, it will sound like the muted roar of insectile swarms filling the air, accompanied by the tch-tick of her overlong wingspars, tips clicking together, as apropos yet surprising as sudden summer cicadas. She will hum in flight, possibly by the slight texture added by the edging of golden filaments, making a zipper-buzz sound, brrrzzzrrrrr! when she banks left or right and then folding up in a noise reminiscent of precious brittle paper being crumpled up.

Flick-flick-thp. … Zzzk-flick-flick… click.

It may even be that she twitches or flick-flick’s her wings sometimes at pointed moments. Just deft, quiet chirps and dry-rustle adjustments that could mean anything. But with your lifemate? Well. Anything is possible with you shuffle with a deck as large as hers.


A noiseless patient spider,

I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,

It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself,

Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,

Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,

Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

A Noiseless Patient Spider, Walt Whitman

There is no need for forceful pushes of power when subtle influences of mental suggestion work best for Elicheritath. From the moment this gold dragon cracks shell and melds her mind with yours, Tuli, you will intimately know that for all her silky demeanor and overall altruistic tendencies, your dragon has an underlying current of chilly capability. A sense of authority and control. She is no pushover, most definitely not a dragon that can be used by others or walked all over. She’s a gold, after all! It is her personal preference not to take the stance of Talicanitath or Aevryscienth (her mother and grandmother), who use their more aggressive influence in the forefront of their minds, or even Kaelidyth who tends to prefer the peacemaking side of things. No, Elicheritath is a gold all her own. She knows well that sometimes it takes a more delicate hand to get what is needed.

Using force all the time can get a dragon nowhere fast, though the same can be said about only being nice and sweet. Elicheritath toes the line of balance, knowing when to assert herself or when to back off, give some space, and try a different tactic. The age old saying, “It is easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar.” is a motto she lives by.

Elicheritath is viciously observant, a master of reading people and dragons in an instant. She can easily nail down a social crisis in the making, being able to tell through vocal or mental tones and body language what may be going on from across the Bowl. It’s all about the attention to detail. The lowering of an eyelid, the tilting of a head, the subtle shifting of weight from one foot to the other. All of these slight motions are noted, internalized, merged together to give this dragon a good understanding of what is going down.

This is a superpower she will hone throughout all of weyrlinghood, using her own clutchmates and their riders to help her sharpen her skills. Elicheritath will be entertained for candlemark after candlemark just People Watching. Or dragon watching. Staying silent, absorbing all that is around her, trying to deduce a viable theory on each man or beast that crosses her path. Of course, innate and instinctive as Elicheritath’s soft touch may be, dragons and humans are complicated. She will blunder sometimes, especially in the beginning. When she is young, expect to find yourself caught up in all sorts of drama because your gold ran right in to try and ‘help’ when she hadn’t yet developed the finesse to do so without making things worse. This might well upset her, which could end up escalating things even more as she busybodies desperately around, thrashing through her every step to find the flaw in her webs that lead to the latest disaster. You might find in such times it’s your particularly blunt council that she needs to see the simplest perspective is sometimes the most appropriate. It may take both your more bold aggression as well as her personable delicacy to soothe over hurt or angry feelings.

Rest assured, Tuli, this is just the start of your introduction to dealing with other people’s problems, whether you want to or not. Eventually, your silk-stepping Queen will find a whisper can speak louder than a shout, and sometimes a look even louder than a whisper, when need be. While it may appear that she is lurking in the shadows, it is only from a more intellectual standpoint. She does not slide from shadow to shadow to hide, she simply finds it an easier way to watch the residents of her Weyr and, in the future, to better find answers to their personal strife.

Her keen insight into the minds of others is a boon for her work in diplomatic matters, something that is indeed a part of her future due to the color of her hide. Once free from Weyrlinghood, Elicheritath will take to her part in Weyrlife easily, melding in well with the overall balance of High Reaches Weyr and the dragons that already reside there. Even if she and Tuli are not placed on diplomacy missions and instead forced to stay Weyrbound, she will thrive on attempting to keep all calm within the boundaries of her Weyr. This is not to say that she will take up the role of Peacekeeper of the Weyr. That’s not truly her calling, nor something she particularly has an interest in. It’s just that… well. Your gold has a bit of a PROBLEM. Already it’s been stated that she excels at reading a situation based on what’s being done and said. This sort of fuels her desire to, well, meddle. Elicheritath, however, would not call it meddling. She simply likes to ‘fix’ things.

That’s right, Tuli, Elicheritath can be something of a busybody. All that time spent sitting and watching the day-to-day lives of those around her does cause her to want to get involved more often than not. Where gossip just to gossip does not get her juices going, she does enjoy the knowing, if not so much the sharing. She does well to respect the privacy of others, keeping the knowledge to herself and to you. She will always have an ear open to the goings-on around the Weyr. They will be discussed with you, at length, both the details around how they came to be and how she would fix the situation. Sadly, it does not just stop with her wanting to talk with you about it. Nope. As you are her rider, and thus, the human voice behind her will, she will insist on you being something of a mediator. Should issues arise between your clutchmates during Weyrlinghood, it will be Elicheritath dropping subtle clues to you on how best to get the problem resolved. Whether you were involved in the dilemma or not, you will find yourself intervening on behalf of your dragon. Otherwise, expect something of a fight on your hands.

Not all the time, obviously. In matters of your own affairs, the people in your life, your friends, your family, Tuli will be given her own space and judgement in what will or will not exacerbate an issue. In these times, she will settle into the background very much like the spider in your mind, weaving her web in the corner of the room, high and out of the way, always there but not intruding. It’s only that she draws the line when it comes to her meddling, and just as she respects your wishes, in the subtle ocean of give and take she will expect a lot of give for her indulgence. This is when she puts her mental foot down, using all that power within her to get what she wants. She may start off nice and subtle, just a off handed comment here and there in the course of half a candlemark. Nothing overly demanding. Just a simple,

« Huhhhh. » So subtle, the glint of a single gossamer strand, humming down into your mind in subtle signal.
« M’yck and Jedi seeeeem to be at odds today. » Idle knotting over and perfection of a cross-thread. Knit.
Glance-up. Glance back down. « I wonder… why? »

“Oh, are they? Too bad.”

« Yes. It’s too bad… » A soft flutter of mothwings, snagged against a shivering snare.
« Do you think it has something to do with R’yst’s latest lesson? Miiiight be interesting to find out. »

Then she will lapse into silence, that spider hanging on her web in the corner of your mind, though you will feel her more intensely than normal. All too focused on exactly what you are doing for the next bit of time. She’s waiting for something, anything, some kind of indication from you, an interest in the social dynamics that are unfolding before you both and WHY OH WHY WON’T YOU BE INTERESTED?! Expect her silence to end sooner rather than later, once again drawing out your attention towards the situation that is still going down.

« Huh, they don’t seeeem to have worked out their problems yet. Can you feel the tennnnsion? It’s affecting their dragons as well.
I would ask. Though, you know, it would be beneficial to know exactly what happened between their riders first. »

“I’m sure it would be.”

« Good. We’re agreeeeed. »

Back into silence, not lasting nearly as long this time or any future time. She will get more and more insistent, pushing harder and becoming less subtle. Until suddenly, she’ll snap. That is one of the times when your well-mannered dragon shows her claws. The few times she’ll truly get frustrated with you, Tuli, which may cause some personal conflict if your desire is not to get involved. You’ll find yourself shoved into often towards uncomfortable positions, being placed in the middle of other people’s issues that have nothing to do with you, and you can only hope Elicheritath will be able to get down to the meat of the problem quickly. Her powers of deduction are quite sharp! Through her, you’ll find yourself being that mediator we spoke of earlier. Trying to get two parties to come to a mutual understanding. And who knows, you might find yourself reaching out time to time to diffuse a situation yourself, spitefully, just to take her toys away before she can play with them.

Even complete strangers, dragon or no, will find her attention drawn to them. Should a broken-hearted lad sighing despondently in the middle of the Central Bowl capture her focus, you’ll find yourself soon walking towards him. Hearing out his problem and then handing out advice via your dragon to try and buck up. She will welcome any person or dragon to rest their weary head upon her ample bosom (or your lack of one) and talk out their problems. If there’s one thing to say about Elicheritath, it is that she is a good listener. Both to you, Tuli, and to all dragons and people that may cross her path. It matters not to her where they come from, only that she can be a source of solution.

Elicheritath is by no means a know-it-all, however she takes a lot of pride in the aid she sets forth to give others. She puts a lot of care and consideration in the words she dispenses and expects a certain amount of respect to be given to them. Should her well-thought-out advice be ignored or should Tuli be told to shove off in any way, her claws will once more be extended. Your gold will not stand to be discarded to the side or to have her beloved rider being treated with anything but respect. Now, she is not the type to let her anger control her actions. She’s not her mother, lashing out with viciousness and venom. But her comments will become clipped or snippy, and even your gracious queen is not above arid sarcasm if someone behaves with particular childishness. The person or dragon who have slighted her and her rider will be blacklisted in her mind. If they need help in the future? They will not receive it. At least until her limited dragon memory kicks in and she forgets about the insult. At that point, it’ll be your call, Tuli, whether to remind her or to just let it slide.

Wilbur: Ooooh. You mean you eat flies?

Charlotte: Why, certainly. I eat anything that gets caught in my web. I have to live, don't I?

Charlotte’s Web

If there is nothing else to say about Elicheritath, it is that she is very practical minded. Where she is generally interested and invested in the lives of other people and dragons, that is where her level of caring starts and stops. Like the spider that must kill to feed, she also has to end lives to ensure her continued existence on this planet. Herdbeasts need to die, that is simply the way of it. It’s not her being harsh or dark, she just is in tune with the way the world works. A loving pet dies? That is what nature intended. A blight hits the Greenhouse, ruining crops? These things happen, the next harvest will just need to be resistant. She is not one to dwell on that which cannot be avoided. If Pern dictates that is what must be, to be, than so be it. No herdbeast will be sparred from her hunger. The grass is eaten by the prey, the prey is eaten by the predator.

Charlotte: Wilbur… we're born, we live, and when our time comes, we die. It's just a natural cycle of life.

Wilbur: No! Just climb down! I'll carry you the rest of the way! We'll go back to the barn and I'll take care of you!

Charlotte: No, Wilbur… I don't even have the strength to climb down.

Charlotte’s Web

Even her own mortality and that of others is something she accepts with dignity and grace. While she has no desire to head into the great Between until it is truly her time, should another dragon and rider pass on, she will less likely the one mourning and will carry on with an almost alarming pragmatism for a dragon so invested in others. A few keens of regret for her fallen comrades, yes, but then she will be the one tending first to the living, going from dragon to dragon, and lending a shoulder to lean on, to help ease the burden of sorrow. She is a special sort, your Elicheritath, she will be able to help other dragons see that even though this event is sad, it’s the cycle of life. Your dragon will be able to say these things in such a way that eases the heart but does not upset the masses. She may be practical, but she is not cruel. A death of any dragon or rider is something to be commiserated, though it is also something to accept. Death is, after all, final.

It makes for, in a sense, a sort of bloodless, insectile maternal nature, her interest in the denizens of people and dragons of Pern. One that she prefers to exercise through you. You are bold and overt and strident and she doesn’t neccessarilly want you to lose that, for it’s useful to her. She very much prefers for you to speak, while she herself hunkers behind you and watches. While a very few dragons are a tad more prone to talk to those who are not their riders, golds are much, much more selective in who will hear their voice. Where Elicheritath will speak free and easily with other dragons, Tuli will need to be her voice when it comes to the matters of human conversation. This is not a dragon that will intrude on the minds of humans. While she is known to butt into the business of others, the mind is different. She’s respectful, first and foremost, choosing instead to get to the core of issues using her skill sets instead of just muscling in and taking from some one's consciousness.

It will be a War of the Minds sometimes between Elicheritath and Tuli. It is a personal mission in life for the gold to try and help her rider see things in new and different ways. In many ways Elicheritath is Tuli’s polar opposite. They would clash far more than complete one another, if this dragon’s personality was more contentious. However, it is not, she’s accepting if nothing else. More times than not Tuli might find herself getting patted on the head, the image of an older individual simply pandering to a younger, less experienced individual comes to mind. Cunning and manipulative? Oh yes, she is. Just not in dark and mysterious ways. She is quite obvious in her ways to sidetrack Tuli (or others) to her way of thinking. Or at least to helping in seeing a situation in a different light. It will not be forced, this influence that Elicheritath will try to talk into others, again her stance on not wanting to be like her mother or grandmother rearing up. Though with a turn of phrase and a light push of thought, Elicheritath has her own abilities to get her way. It will, in truth, be somewhat vexing for poor Tuli and not altogether expected at times when the woman finds herself disagreeing with her dragon but then doing or thinking exactly how she was asked.

You, in the end, will be her counter just as much as she is yours. Her desire to fix things, to keep you from putting a foot wrong, to make sure everyone Gets Along, could easily get out of hand. She feels she is only trying to help, but others might (and with some justification) view her as being controlling and resent her constant meddling. This will be often the case with Oroqaith, her blue brother who she will often find herself working side by side with, as the two of them share a steady, meddlesome attitude; she’ll have an ally in him, and he in her, in their share of observations and shared ‘eye’ kept out on the Weyr. But she might come up against many bruising walls, because he will not welcome her attention on himself. And this sort of private resistance and suspicion of all things will pique her interest and soften her hands to pick ever more nimbly at him. She’ll need not be quite so careful with all of her siblings, however. Qyth and Elicheritath could easily become dear to one another, as could your queen enjoy a quiet, deep camaraderie with her brothers, bronze Vulkasinth and brown Morkarth, for their each unique perspectives. Her one bane might be Llioramasith, for he will withdraw from her exploring webs, at times. And may be elusive to her most searching of touches.

Even Elicheritath, in darker and more self-reflective moments, might not be sure whether she acts entirely out of love or out of a desire to keep things neat, keep her Weyr safe and familiar, and avoid disturbing her own peace. The answer is probably neither one thing nor t’other, and you will have to learn when to heed her (usually perceptive) advice and when to put your own foot down. You, Tuli, are that one fascinating fly she cannot keep in her web, try though she will to keep you safe, and you will help her grow through resisting her when you feel she is being too smothering.

You may have quite a battle ahead of you when you feel the need to stand your ground — her web is strong, and she bears all the mental power of a gold; and the hardest lesson any mother has to learn is that there are some times when she should not protect her children, when they are actually better off without her interference even in their defense. You may indeed find yourself paralyzed sometimes by her cocooning. But you’re strong, too, and can, with time, resist her when you need to — and perhaps that is why she chose you to be her lifemate. On some level, she needs you to challenge her. It helps her learn. She chose you because you were not likely to stay wrapped up and stored in her larder, even when she herself wishes you would. In fact, if one day you find you’ve wholly lost the will to fight her, Elicheritath will likely be very worried and upset indeed. In some ways, she relishes the fact that she can never quite pin you down or predict what you’ll do. Still, expect to struggle with this aspect of her personality all your lives. The two of you may even come to enjoy it; you’ll make each other wilier and stronger yet, and all the wiser for it.


For insects and arachnids, life culminates in the act of mating and the rearing of young: often, the male parent sacrifices himself to nourish his offspring and the mother perishes after the laying of her eggs or soon after the hatching of her children. Elicheritath will live through this cycle many times in her life, though the same sense of primal urgency and maternal diligence, as well as an attitude of necessity will govern her actions.

When her hide first starts to glimmer, her wings will eternally be heard making their stark, agitated flick-flick-wrr-wrr-wrrr-flick sounds, echoing dryly throughout the Weyr. The vanity she inherits from Talicanitath will reveal itself as she retreats to the center of her web of influence and withdraws from the world, her agony aunt tendencies turned inward in preparation. This is no frivolous self-obsession, but strategy and preparation for the ultimate queenly duty of genetic continuation. Expect her to engage in acts of courtship. First, she will focus on her home and insist the both of you and your weyr be immaculate. She will be bathed, oiled and pampered, her talons clipped, the full ledge and queen’s stairs swept to perfection. She will insist you return to the despised gowns from your candidacy. Your weyr will be scrubbed, floor sparkling, furniture dusted, bed made at all times. Elicheritath’s interest in public appearances, conversely, will decline, supplanted by a preference to dwell in her lair. That does not mean she will stop maintaining a presence, however. No, once all order has been ensured, she will take visitors. Bronzes, of course, or a brown or two if they can be so convincing.

Suitors must prove themselves; the act of mating is no last-minute decision, but one of endless contemplation and judgment. Gifts are accepted. Gifts are hoarded. The clever spider-queen requires more than material possessions, however: she needs to ensure her spawn are well bred – the best of the best. While proddy, Elicheritath delights in testing her suitors, exploring the limits of their draconic intelligence, their memories, their flying prowess, and their dietary habits. Often, at the close of day, she will pose riddles; engage in philosophical discussion – all to determine the most suitable male for her to choose, or at least show a preference for, as the nature of flights is random in the end.

At last, when she readies herself to take to the skies, she will visit the pens, selecting only the largest, healthiest of herdbeasts. Blooding will be a prolonged affair with few victims, for when she kills, she drains to full consumption and never rushes. When done, the shriveled husks of her prey collapse inward, a dry heap of skins, bone, and organs, as the spider who liquefies the insides of the unfortunate creatures trapped in her web and sucks them of all their delicious juices. Sated on blood, Elicheritath next mutilates the last of her meal, flying away with entrails streaming behind her as living sinew turned to intestinal webbing she drags along, flinging into the eyes of her pursuers.

Once the air is full of the wingbeats of her prey, Elicheritath will lead a tortuous chase — at times coy and taunting, and then all of a sudden fleeing with the unnatural bouncing grace of the spinner threatened. She will flip and dive and flirt with hillsides, cliffs and valleys, seeming, for all her size, almost to vanish on occasion — only to reappear suddenly, almost in the midst of her suitors. As the chase grows keener, she will trade her scuttling over hillsides for darting among cloud-banks, spiraling dizzyingly upward with dips and eerily fast glides. Near the end, when all of the games and silk have been torn away and she feels herself starting to tire, she will flee, for perhaps just a moment, out of some genuine, unformed terror at the waning of her power, driving ever higher, thrashing fog in her wake. When her suitors finally close in, she may be driven to turn upon them with a violence in her mind that would paralyze all but the strongest — that last, desperate lunge of a cornered arachnid. But by then it will be over; she will be caught. The spider now becomes the fly.

Maybe it’s that moment of fear; or perhaps the chase itself, the exertion, the primal energy of predator and prey. But once she is caught, her world — and yours, therefore — will suddenly overturn. For some time following her flights she will no longer be the agony aunt or the waiting predator at the center of her own web. She will be weak, washed-out, vulnerable. Elicheritath, normally so able to pick apart the nature of those around her without quailing at their dark surprises, to subtly influence and redirect the course of things, will lose her moorings, her webs tattered and streaming in whatever breeze catches them. Her influence might leave you more open than you are accustomed to being, too. But she will not want you to withdraw too far from her mind, even for your own comfort — she will need your presence and your strength. Perhaps, in time, she may lean on others as well, exploring for those on whom she can rely in her time of need. For them, she may retain a fondness regardless of their station or the whims of Weyr politics.

After the heat of passion cools, pragmatism returns to Elicheritath once more. In clutching, she is the opposite of her mother, Talicanitath, who lays her eggs across the expanse of the sands in jealous dominion over the hatching cavern. Not Elicheritath, whose thoughts rest on the future, one that for spiders, goes on without the mother. Hence, while the soft shells protecting the dragonets harden, she hoards them in a corner of the sands, shielding them with her body. Always, her back is to her incubating children, hunkered in a threatening crouch and could she, she would carry them with her always, as when the necessity of food drives her to hunt. Do not be surprised as to her fierce protection of her clutch, more so than other queens, as often she seeks to encompass them within the protective cowl of her tail harnessed close to her in such a way that she may always feel them while she watches, casts her net wide on high-alert to the comings and goings of candidates and spectators who dare tread upon her sands or gaze, awe-inspired from the galleries.


Name: Dirna, R'yst
Egg Desc: R'yst
Dragonet Desc: R'yst
Messages: R'yst
Puppeteer: Dirna
Inspiration: R'yst, Lendai, Dirna, Tilla, Zeyta

S'erc's bronze Vulkasinth, H'ris's green Qyth, M'yck's blue Oroqaith, Mal's brown Morkarth, and Jedi's brown Llioramasith

Harper's Tale's 62nd PC Clutch
High Reaches Weyr's 23rd PC Clutch

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