A World With No More Night Blue Fascath

Moody blues? Not this fellow. He's the pinnacle of poise and charm, deep azure hide spritzed through with boisterous bubbles of baby blue. Ice shards shatter down the long column of his neck before floating high along ribs and spine, their jagged peaks cresting like pale icebergs to form unevenly-spaced 'ridges. Trickling twists of indigo plunge slowly southwards from a strong maw, twining a hypnotic course down his throat, lapping at the slim curve of his his stomach before pooling at the very tips of his tail. A splash of sweet summer berry provides refreshing relief from the otherwise cool tones of his hide, a single patch of warmth highlighting the space over his chest, as though the heated tattoo of twin hearts could hardly keep his emotions at bay. Curacao blue soaks the broad expanse of his wings, malibu waves coursing up from the trailing edge to provide a subtle splash of variation for effect. In direct sunlight, these seafoam-stricken striations gleam with a subtle glint of glitter, a sort of iridescent sheen that hints that perhaps there's more to this blue than meets the eye. He is nuanced, he is variegated, he is unmatched in form, and flow, but physicality aside there is just something about him that begs one's inspection. Whatever that may be, one thing is for sure: there is no darkness to be found here, no tumult, no turmoil - he is simply something pleasant to behold, a creature of ample muscle but careful motions, rugged without it domineering his appearance, cool and collected without losing out on that sense of quiet familiarity. He is who he is, bold and bright and just a little bit mystic, with a confident stride to match.

Egg Name and Description

Outrun The Monster Egg
From a distance, it appears that this imperfect ovid glows a sickly shade of green. A closer inspection reveals veritable grayish tones without distinct shape - until you look away, that is. Then those graceful swirls transform in your peripheral vision, becoming the distorted impressions of grotesque faces pressed against seafoam colored glass in agony. Their mouths stretch unnaturally open in silent screams, distorted by the occasional press of handprints that reveal themselves and disappear again depending on the light. One side bears an uglier mark: a formless figure cloaked in the darkness of shadow, giving rise to goosebumps and that unshakable feeling of something is watching you. But when you look back at the egg, it's that innocuous green with elegant gray struck through. Surely it was just your imagination…

Impression Message

The burning heat of the sands beneath your sandaled feet dissipates, replaced by comforting warmth and soft, husky laughter. Vibrant greens and effervescent blues combine with striking purples to bleed into your mind, coalescing with the same gradient slow-blend of a mixed drink. « Catwin. » The landscape rearranges around you, trading endless sands for a land of beauty, somewhere far away from here and now where there is only you, and only him - together, as you will be for an eternity. « Blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. » A tenor voice ripples through your mind, offering comfort and devotion that permeates around the tantalizing hint of alcoholic beverages, rife with fruit. « I am Fascath. You carry me within you, and you cannot leave me now, no matter what happens. You are mine, always, if you will it or no; if you want me or no. Mine, and I will not let you go. » The heady scent of berries changes, becoming chocolate wine as a fog rolls through to drown jeweled colors. « You need not be scared of me, nor of anyone here, so long as I am with you. But I cannot fight against sand, my Cat. Come, I would see to your comfort, and perhaps to my own once you are well. »


No more talk of darkness,
Forget these wide-eyed fears.
I'm here, nothing can harm you.
My words will warm and calm you.

Jamie Fraser: It doesn't matter where you came from. You are here now.

No more talk of darkness, Catwin, for the moment that Fascath breaks free from the confines of his sticky shell, he will be living for you. You are as fundamental to his drive to be stronger as air is to your lungs for breath; his one desire, even when he is young and unknowing, will be to see to your well-being, to calm your fears, to keep you safe, even if it means that he sometimes has to take a verbal (or even a physical) lashing to protect you.

Authority has little meaning, when it comes to your well-being. In the very early days, he will be particularly fussy, unwilling to take anyone's advice on your state of mind, perhaps not even yours. He can feel your distress, see how tired you are, touch on those jagged edges that define your struggles and it makes him upset that you're upset that he can see them and there's nothing he can do except make it worse and— and on and on it goes, because look at this. We took a perfectly good blue and we gave him anxiety.

Luckily, it's not all for naught just yet - it will take some doing on Catwin's part, some conversations large and small to explain concepts that are so hard for baby dragon minds to understand, but if allowed some patience, he will come to accept that he can't have all the answers just now, that he might not be able to entirely patch the fragments that make up Cat's inner mosaic ever, and that will mark the advent of Fascath as the dragon he will grow up to be. He still wants the world for you, will do everything in his power to bring it around, but he himself will settle into his skin, focus not on what he can't do, but instead upon what he can.

Claire: "But why you?"
Jamie: "Why not me?"
Why not? I wanted to say. Because you didn't know her, she was nothing to you. Because you were already hurt. Because it takes something rather special in the way of guts to stand up in front of a crowd and let someone hit you in the face, no matter what your motive.

For Fascath does not have the ambition to be the strongest, or the fastest, or the baddest blue, but he does push himself to be strong. Every practiced beat of wings, every ounce of his focus on learning to see through your eyes and navigate without his is because it will make him better for you, because it will allow him to serve you in the way he feels that you need to be served. You are his rock, his gem, his diamond in the rough, the reason he lives as he does now, for even if he had found someone else he knows, with sure clarity, with a certain sense of poignancy, that without Catwin he would not be this same dragon. He is who he is because of you, and he can only hope to someday make himself good enough to earn that from you in return.

This is the manner in which your Fascath thinks, not in black and whites or absolutes, but rather shades of glorious color painted with streaks of hope. He has an acceptance and an understanding that transcends his age; a sense of justice and what is right that will develop him into a champion of the small, if appropriately guided along. As he ages, you'll come to realize he won't always just come to your defense, but also to those he feels are not strong enough to take the punishment - or who do not deserve the punishment that they are being served.

"What the heck, Fas. Explain why we're doing wing lifts? Again?"
« Ilyscaeth knocked something over again. »
« And she didn't mean to, so… I took the blame. 'T'isn't fair she gets punished for something she can't help, and besides, I've missed wing lifts. They make my shoulders look great. »

This sort of self-effacing humor will be a lot of what gets Fascath by. He's devoted entirely to Catwin's cause, but he's also kind, and friendly, and gets on incredibly well with others. He's sensitive, for a male, willing to not only hear out the trials and tribulations of his Catwin, but also of their friends and compatriots. He's a good listener, patient and understanding, willing to draw on experiences of his own and his rider to better understand the gravity of any situation, no matter how big or small. Papercuts and scabbed elbows will receive just as many mental tuts and warm croons as will near-fatal wounds and the harsh realities of emotion, because if there's anything he's learned from his lifemate, it's that everything is important, especially in the moment.

Jaime Frasier: “I gave you justice, as I was taught it. And I gave you mercy, too, so far as I could. While I could not spare you pain and humiliation, I make you a gift of my own pains and humiliations, that yours might be easier to bear. ”

And yet, as is the manner of things, there will be times when Fascath fails, when he cannot spare you the indignities and darkness that lingers in the hearts of all, when he cannot protect you from broken hearts and the challenge of authority. In those dark times, he will not simply stand by and give solemn advice, but rather suffer with you, because you are no longer alone in this. He shares in your pain, understands your frustration, knows beyond knowing from time in his shell what it feels like to be debased, to face criticism, judgment, to hate yourself for some part of your person you cannot help but be, and in the end that's just not something he can spare you from.

Say you love me every waking moment,
Turn my head with talk of summer time.
Say you need me with you now and always.
Promise me that all you say is true.
That's all I ask of you.

So instead, he'll simply be there to share in all of it, to offer whatever support he may, mentally as well as physically. He will not hesitate to literally pick you up off the floor, guide you somewhere safe and warm to fix yourself up away from prying eyes; he will listen if desired, or just curl up and be there if not, laugh over infractions he himself has committed if appropriate, and quietly through actions remind you that in the end, everything will be okay. Even if nothing else goes right in this crazy world you live in, you will always, always have him.

This remains true even as adulthood approaches - it doesn't matter to him what either of you wind up doing, as long as he has you. A return to the Vinter craft is just as welcome as a change of pace, for he is placid and adaptable and more than capable of any avenue you may wish to explore. He has the right amount of patience to educate the small, the body and desire to do good enough to take on S&R, and just enough quiet wanderlust to appreciate travel if she wishes to seek employment with the transport wing. Even Atoll is not entirely outside the realm of his grasp, but that is perhaps a thought saved for the future; he, at least, is not nearly experienced enough to dive headlong into that fishbowl just yet, but should Cat wish it someday, he will be only too willing to put in the work to get her there.

Jamie: “There was another reason. The main one.”
Claire: “Reason?”
Jamie: "Why I married you.”
Claire: "Which was?”
Jamie: "Because I wanted you, more than I ever wanted anything in my life."

This is because he loves you, beyond reason. Why Catwin, some might ask? Because he would go to the ends of the earth for her, and only her. There's literally nothing he wouldn't do for her, for her love, for the love of her. He befriends most, defends many, but the pool of persons he would defy Catwin for is much smaller, and those he'd lay down his life for is smaller yet. He cannot imagine a life without her, and knows without needing to ask that her life would now be so much worse were he to be removed from it, too. He loves her in every single sense of the word, not in some nebulous but alien draconic concept, but really, truly, and deeply. Come what may, he is hers, she is his, and all he needs is for her to love him in return.

Anywhere you go, let me go too.
Love me, that's all I ask of you.


Windows in the Doors

Fascath's inner self isn't a mind so much as it is an experience. It hits upon every single sense, sometimes alone, sometimes all at once, the sheer presence of him in that moment bordering on overwhelming. Always, he has taste, his mind vaguely alcoholic without any true intention of laying waste to anybody with its potency. Though the bright, warm, and fruity flavor of a mixed drink on the average day, chocolate wine weaves in, sweet and heavy, when he's offering comfort, heady enough to dull the senses, familiar enough to remind you that every little thing is gonna be alright. Anger and scorn are rare, but with them comes the punch of high-proof whiskey laced with bitter lime, a literal snakebite for those he's deemed deserving of such harshness. As he explores Catwin's mind, shares in her knowledge of alcohols, each of his moods will earn their own palettes, a drink for every occasion.

Otherwise, he is the rolling hills of Scotland in all their vibrant splendor. His everyday mind is a plunge into a glass of color, blurred pigments shaping themselves into gorgeous fields of soft heather, flowers, and grasses that rustle on an inviting wind. Heavy fog rolls in when he is particularly at peace, quiet patter of rain underlaid with sweet earthy scents and a ponderous bookstore-musk. Thunder rolls quietly in the distance for dark amusement, but again, he is no port in a storm for anyone other than his Cat - those deserving of his ire are treated to the full brunt of those storms, a chaotic melange of lightning, thunder, and the salty sting violent waters.

Even in these moments, he is her shelter from the storm, as for Catwin - and only for Catwin - he reveals a castle tucked away in his quiet highlands, a seemingly-endless sprawl of rooms of his own making, but also of hers. Some are totally empty, featureless until she makes something of them herself; others will begin as his domain, but over turns of companionship will slowly change into something that's less him and much more them, as though even in this most private of spaces he cannot help but honor his Cat. Music drifts through the corners of these craggy halls, sometimes piano, soft and thoughtful, other times guitar, wry and humorous, but some days… some days he opens the path to the opera house tucked deep in the depths of his castle, and on those days he sings for her, warm tenor lilting in a song that will only ever belong to one person.

Physicality & Flights

Claire: "Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?"
Jamie: "Well, no… so long as it doesna bother you that I am. Reckon one of us should know what they're doing."

Fascath is a gentledragon, but not so refined that he's lacking in interest or fun; watching him move is honestly its own entertainment because it's just so many things at once, especially when he's young. His gait is agile and strong even his youth, all of his bits and parts growing in tandem without much awkwardness. There will perhaps be the random-odd growth spurt that will suddenly kick him out of coordination, but luckily for him, his Catwin is only human. He is loathe to leave her behind - instead of rushing headlong, he'll instead take his time, and whatever stumbles over his own paws, he does manage - tempered by not having much momentum behind them.

For the first several days, maybe even the first several weeks, he'll be constantly on the move - there are so very many things to see, so many friends to make, and he'll want you to be there for it all. Cat will definitely get her daily step count in, and then some, as he traipses from one end of the weyrling yard to the other to show her things he thinks she will love. As he ages and begins to realize there's not much really that interesting about the same rocks and puddles, his eyes will turn skywards, and his rider-to-be might instead find herself drawn out at random times of the day and night to snuggle against his hide to observe a particularly fascinating cloud shape, or admire the constellations overhead, a habit that will continue well into adulthood and beyond.

As he grows into his adult body, gangly-if-steady limbs will trade out for a fine set of muscles across chest, shoulders, and neat, narrow hips. Though perhaps not obscene, Fascath works out, likes the way he feels after a particularly hard day's worth of exercises, and even moreso, likes the way he looks when properly toned. What can he say - it's his one small shred of vanity in an otherwise selfless world. Besides, in a world where first impressions are vital and actions speak louder than words, isn't it good to do one's best to put forwards a good appearance? He certainly thinks so, and if nothing else, desires to represent his Catwin well.

The only thing he couldn't care less about is how female dragons perceive his appearance when it comes to flirtations. Sorry ladies, but he's a one-woman dragon, with little to no intent to share either of his hearts with another. Might this change with time? Perhaps. It's just not his number one priority, now and possibly ever. Even flights take second string to Catwin's will - if she isn't into the flight, doesn't want him to participate even if that reason is "I just don't feel like it right now," chances are incredibly good he won't be, either. This doesn't mean he resents any physical relationship Catwin does wish to pursue - he is hers, and she is his, but he is not a terribly jealous sort. He just can't be motivated to take to the skies for just any female, that's all. He won't be terribly rude about it - as though Fas could be rude even if he wished - but will instead endeavor to let females down with polite firmness and promptly wisk his rider to somewhere a little less crowded, thankyouverymuch.


Egg: Our egg theme this cycle was "Superpowers," - AS IN ALL SUPER POWERS. Your egg was based on the power of Necromancy, a power that most perceive to be inherently evil, because it deals with command over the undead and the ability to raze and conquer with soldiers that can't die. But some necromancers are clearly just misunderstood individuals who got handed the short-end of the stick - if your Fascath is anything to base this off of.

Name: Fascath - derived from the scots-gaelic "fasgadh", which means "shelter" like Raoul wants to offer Christine. Jamie's gift for languages helped us translate it, turning the G to a C to better match English phonetics and the ending DH to a -TH to suit a dragon. It's pronounced with a FA like in PHAntom and a SCA like in SCAr, with the emphasis on the first syllable.

Dragon: Fascath is based on two brilliant and devoted lovers of their special ladies, Jaime Fraser and Raoul de Chagny (particularly as is expressed in 'All I Ask of You.'). Though he is hardly single-minded, let there never be any doubt as to whom you belong to, nor whom he adores - it is Catwin and only Catwin from the moment he leaves shell to his very last breath.

Physically, he is based off several of the alcoholic beverages you requested, along with just a little bit of the shimmer that goes into that sparkling drink Cat's working on in the background. We had a lot of fun coming up with as many subtle (and some not-so-subtle) references to alcohol as we could with his desc, including but not limited to several types of alcohol (pinnacle, curacao, hpnotiq and malibu) along with some bubbles and ice for flavor.

While a simple blue he may be in personality and coloration, his mind is where it's at - there your Fascath is at his most complicated, hitting on multiple senses at once to create a very visceral experience in his Catwin's mind every time he talks. Though a refined tenor, he still retains a little of Jaime's accent for flavor, ekeing out a bartender's lifetime-worth of drinks, a castle filled with untold mysteries, and the rolling hills of the Scottish highlands, every inch of it bursting with little things that make him, him.

And now those things are up to you! For though we've written him for you to play, and hope you love him even HALF as much as we do, the rest of him is entirely yours to do with what you will! WELCOME to weyrlinghood at Half Moon Bay Weyr - we are SO VERY HAPPY to have you here!!

<3 — Ila'den and R'hyn


Name Fascath
Dam Celimoth
Sire Xermiltoth
Created By R'hyn & Ila'den
Impressee Catwin
Hatched July 13,2017
Half Moon Bay Weyr
PernWorld MUSH

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