Thesy's Starry Starry Night Blue Sardrinth

Moonlight touches, a silvery romance of noise that is not noise, taste that is not taste, and touch that rings like bell music along the insides of your head:

» Wake up o'mine. «
» Wake. «
» Hunger. Wake. «
» Wake Hunger Wake «
» Now.«
» /Now/. «
» … sulk … «
» We are hungry. «
Fine. » Feed myself, will. « Fine.

And one can just imagine the mess he makes of it too. Not to mention stuffing himself way too full, choking on the last bits, and being completely certain it is /your/ fault, Thesy, that he (and by extension you), feel so miserable.

Mists of Avalon Egg

Lilac and grey swirl towards each other, sending light tendrils of mist to consume this egg in its embrace. Secrets and truth are concealed, hidden under the veil of fog so they are only visible as shadows stretching across the egg, reaching from crown to base in rough figures; legends that are only distortions of what lies inside, waiting.

Hatching Message

Mists of Avalon Egg drifts as fog, thick and grey, to continue to distort and occlude the petite dragonet struggling within. A determined push of a snub little snout; the shove and push of broad haunches and lashing, impatient tail; the bright flash of ebony talons and sharp, tiny teeth — the battle continues between dragon and egg until with the sharp crack of lightning, the dream breaks free.

Starry Starry Night Blue Dragonet

Sapphire strokes the slender lines of a night-dreamt form, playing along the vibrancy of this slim-cut dragonet's sleight, thief-quick frame. Drenched in shadow, watercolors of azure and indigo merge and melt into the dreamscape of his swirling hide, while erratic shafts of tamed lightning twist and twine along his sleek, roguish flanks. Just as chaotic, moonlight frosts the classical contours of muzzle and profile, while stray stardust is tossed like wishes about his rounded headknobs, across the tops of sickle-curved neckridges, and down through the midnight hours that darken his twice-charmed tail. Paper-thin wingsails shimmer with illustrious silver, as sharp as the infinite sparkle retained in those wide and mischievous eyes.

Private Impression Message

As romantic as moonlight on water, and as sharp and violent as lightning, Sardrinth's awakening crackles with vitality and life: light and color splinter about you, burning outwards and inwards as you stare at each other in wonder, seeing yourselves through opposite eyes. His touch is vibrant, gleeful, impatient, and underlaid with tiles of seductively painted designs and desires. » We «, formulating the word with the spit and crackle of electricity, » We are hungry. « And with a start of surprise, you find that Sardrinth is right. You /are/ hungry. But it is a gut wrenching physical sensation, whereas your soul overflows with the abundance of Him. Your Sardrinth. Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever… afaranth.«

Thesy, though you had to leave the hatching early, we want you to stay forever, so don't think of trying to escape, because we won't let you go! ;) Welcome, welcome. I hope Sardrinth is everything you want him to be.

Starry Starry Sardrinth, rogue that he is, challenges you, Thesy, his clutchmate, his dam, and everyone else with a spirited, crackly sort of energy that makes him more than a bundle of trouble. Like Erranth, he is a troublesome schoolboy not given to paying much attention, and will gleefully drag as many other creatures into trouble as he can.


Liquid moonlight, Sardrinth's mindtouch is mellifluous and mellow when he is sleepy, and bright, violent, and brash when he is not. It /crackles/, with lightning's sizzle and smoke, set off against the lyrical chiming of tiny bells. It is like having a music box go off in your head at inopportune times, and you can't quite close the lid. His bugle and voice is louder, almost tinny, and when young is giving to many a squeak and squealing.


Liquid moonlight, Sardrinth's mindtouch is mellifluous and mellow when he is sleepy, and bright, violent, and brash when he is not. It /crackles/, with lightning's sizzle and smoke, set off against the lyrical chiming of tiny bells. It is like having a music box go off in your head at inopportune times, and you can't quite close the lid. His bugle and voice is louder, almost tinny, and when young is giving to many a squeak and squealing.

Physicality: Sardrinth is a demitasse of dragonet. Built small and sleight, the little blue is almost too handsome — dare we say cute? — cut with a crafter's symmetrical artistry and classical balance of form and wings. His sails might be a might too large, which only speed his already swift, aerodynamic flight, and his tail might be just a mite too long, but that is all the better to trip people up with.

His hide - oh! that hide! - allows him to blend into the shadows, the water, or the sky as it suits him. Inspired half by the idea of the Blue Moon (Someone as kewl as you, Thesy, comes along once in a blue Moon!), and Van Gogh's Starry Night painting, Sardrinth is an impressionist's dream of swirling of blue. Solidly sapphire about muzzle and head, it darkens with subtly swirlings to turn to night-dark indigo along that mischievous tail. But he is not /just/ blue, oh no. Those zigzags of lightning silver cut along neck and withers, and broaden where they split the powerful planes of his twitchy flanks. A more gentle, periwinkle of silver is tossed down over one shoulder, stardust set off in sunlight or when the mood strikes Sardrinth… he /shines/. Proddy blue? His wings are similarity dusted with dreamy silver, thin and near translucent. Moonlight lives in those strong sails. His winspars and claw-tips are polished with well-worn pewter, just a few shades lighter than the near ebon of his talons.

Blue — silver — blue… black when the light is right, Sardrinth is a true child of High Reaches. His colors could temper, with age, turning him a solid and slightly varying shade as baby spots and starbursts fade and disappear. Or, they could grow more distinct and vibrant with the turns. As with all that we offer as Sardrinth, nothing is meant to confine you from playing the dragon of your dreams, hue and pattern, personality and more.


More than a handful, Sardrinth is not wicked, really, though he probably could be. We think it is more that he has this sort of boundless sea of energy that comes out in odd ways, and not necessarily at the best times. Attention deficit order it isn't, for he is too clever to let hyperactivity get the better of him, but he will get into trouble because he forgets he is supposed to be playing attention. And he will try and drag you along with him, Thesy. Lesson? What Lesson? I thought we were going swimming.

Because he is one of the smallest dragons of his clutch, if not at first than eventually, he will be quicker at getting a handle on his fast-growing form. Not gawky, nor gangly, Sardrinth soon learns he is faster than most all the rest of his clutchmates, and might sneak around stealing the best bits of meat or comfort for himself, before others notice anything is missing: zip — zooom — poof. There goes Ysbryth's choice bit of herdbeast. Zip — zooom — zip. There goes Alarth's favorite polishing rag.

This rogue, this thief, this little blue man collects things that are not his. Not because he wants to steal things but because he does not recognize anyone's rights to property. What is, is, and if he can use it, then he shall. This makes your couch and perhaps later your weyr apt to be crowded with various things Sardrinth has collected. He does not think about collecting things, it just happens — » Shorts? Oh, those shorts, they aren't yours? »

Because he is so small, he will eventually be quite the little terror in flight. First into Thread, and last out, Sardrinth will use everything to his advantage: thermals, winds, other dragons, water, :: between :: , he knows them all and understands instinctively how to keep himself and you — and the rest — as safe as possible. He flames in quick, short, powerful bursts of fire, and is good at conserving fuel until absoutely necessary. It is not that he is overly daring, or risky, just most everyone else cannot keep up.

Of course in mating flights it is up to 'Dinth to keep up. » My green. « Incoming! He chases with all the energies he has and more. Now more daring and wicked than he is at other times. He shoves, he pushes, he plays dirty, he /flies/, and all he sees is green. Green. /Green/. Should he catch himself a proddy dragon, well, watch out for fireworks.

A happy dragon? Indeed. Moody? Not most of the time. Friendly? Yes. Gregarious, loud, and fun.

That's it. Sardrinth is /fun/.
What more do you need?


Egg Desc: LisaneDragonet
Desc: Nuff
Name: You!
Puppeted by: Nuff
Inspiration: Nuff + Search!

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