The World is Not Enough Blue Brionnith

Measured arrogance lies writ in the angled tilt of proudly arched neck, the rich, dazzling hue of cobalt staining the expanse of dragonhide — velvety-rich and silken soft to the touch. Arrayed in naught but nature's finest, that same shimmered hue cloaks the rest of him, beginning at the tip of his blunted muzzle, upon which a faintly sardonic sneer oft curves the maw. His neck, not as long and lean as some of his counterparts still carries a sense of poise, flowing down to muscled shoulders. In contrast to his brilliant sheen above, dark ultramarine-blue follows the trace of his lean underbelly, and down the underside of a short and muscular tail, a scintillating contrast of light and dark — for is he emerging from shadows, or is he consumed by them? His wings are immense, great broad pinions that gleam a semi-translucent blue along the leading edges, gradually darkening in gradient — sinking into endless depths and a blue so dark it's nearly black along the trailing edge. Confidence and charisma coat his very being, wings oft held at rakish tilt, and a proud swagger in his gait.

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