Porcelain
Pet Name: Porcelain
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Albino Kratork
Born: July 31, 2013
Gender: Female
MisticPal Name: Cleanliness
MisticPal Age: 3963 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 10 / 10
Strength: 15
Defense: 0
Speed: 20
Intellect: 20
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
She descended like a hailstorm, roaring with such ferocity as to cause the ground to quake.
Her vicious spiked tail lashed, cracking trees and tearing the earth. When she beat her wings, any who rallied against her were thrown on their hands and knees as if the sky itself had fallen upon them. The air from their lungs was torn from them and they gasped desperately for breath.
Brilliant fire lit up the sky and reflected orange and yellow tones on her ghostly white hide.
Her hellish eyes fell upon them all. They were as red as newly spilled blood.
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"Stop! Don't touch that!"
ID No. 43F
Porcelain; "a hard, white, translucent ceramic made by firing a pure clay and then glazing it with variously colored fusible materials; china"
meticulous || clean || stunted || delicate
"The Dragonling"
Porcelain is a dragon born stunted and malformed. She has no wings where she should and is unusually small, crippled, and weak. When she was young she was sick constantly and her appetite was nearly nonexistent. She has worked to undo her afflictions, to build up strength, but she will never be as strong as she could have been. Many things are too difficult to lift and she has very little stamina.
The way people underestimate her, or perhaps just regularly estimate, because they are usually correct -- she can't fight back -- well, it infuriates her. Her demeanor, as well as her high, piping voice and tendency to hiss doesn't help. She often comes off as whiny and aggressive, though all she is really trying to do is stand up for herself. Worse still is the looks she gets; her pale skin is unusual. Some townsfolk avert their eyes when she passes and grumble prayers. It is widely rumored that she is cursed.
Porcelain is a collector, through and through. Her favorite thing is to build collections. She will target anything, from strangely shaped rocks to her most favorite things, delicate ceramics and china.
She is also a neat freak. For the life of her, she absolutely cannot stand being dirty. She is immaculate and her possessions and home reflect this. She cannot stand the feel of mud on her scales, nor the thought of sweat and grime staining her. It makes her feel disgusting and she does her utmost to clean and clean and make sure she never feels disgusting again.
In her dreams, she flies. She is wild, and powerful, and strong. Porcelain dreams of being a real dragon, whole, unmarred, and revered. But that dream will never come true.
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I wish I could love the way the windows rattle,
I wish I could love the way the train blares
on the windy cold nights
I wish I could love the way the sun sets
over the tallest hill.
I wish I could love the sound of the snow melting,
the grass shaking and the tree leaves trembling,
I wish I could see the stars through the haze,
the words in the wind,
the river through the mist,
and the edge of the moon.
I wish I could love the trains that shake the house,
I fall asleep wishing, but it will never be my house.
I am not from here,
this is not where I was born.
This is not where I belong.
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"Ssss, don't touch that!" Porcelain cried as the bully snatched a fancy, crisp white plate from her threadbare backpack.
"Hah! Why are you carrying around plates? What's wrong with you?" the first questioned, shaking the bag around in his fist and listening to the rattling of china and paper.
"No, stop!" Porcelain wailed in fear for her possessions.
"Not just plates, there's bowls, and silverware. Look! She's even got teacups!" the second said. She brought one of the teacups up to her mouth, mockingly pretending to sip it, jamming a pinky finger in the air for good measure.
"Wow, where'd you steal these?" the third and final bully accused. He lifted up a small piece, one wrapped in thick packing paper to prevent damage. He unwrapped it and whistled. It was an incredibly beautiful decorative vase. It was edged with a gold and red cherry blossom pattern and bore a great red eastern dragon that winded around the entire middle.
"No, no no no no," Porcelain stomped. "I didn't steal them, they're mine. Give them back! Now!"
By this point Porcelain was practically in tears. She was trying not to show the horror she felt. Of all of the things she horded, that one was her favorite, no question, and definitely the most valuable.
They only mocked her further.
"Hah, look how weak she is! She can't even reach us!"
"Aww, you gonna cry, you stupid little lizard?"
"I wonder how much we could fetch for these; the market hasn't closed yet today. They look pricey, seriously."
"Yeah, and get caught by whoever she stole them from? Yeah right. They're probably just waiting for her to come down there and make a profit."
Porcelain yelled in frustration. Her hands bunched at her sides. They were stronger than her, and taller, and she couldn't stop them. Forcing her voice to remain level, she said, "Look, okay, you've had your fun, I really need them back. Please. I just want to get on with my day!"
Her pleas elicited more laughs. She groaned in frustration, growling deep and nastily beneath her breath. "Stop it!" she yelled.
As she did so, it began to rain.
"Damn it! Oh well, I'm cold as hell, let's go get some food or something," one of them suggested, and after a small amount of bickering they all agreed. They made to leave.
The first bully who held her pack haphazardly stuffed the things he had taken out back in, and threw it back at her. "Catch!"
Porcelain, slow and undersized as she was, couldn't grab the overfilled bag completely. Her claws tugged weakly at the sides, ripping a gaping hole in the side of the old, tattered bag. Several pieces spilled out the sides, even as the bag hit the ground at a horrible pace.
The sound of breaking ceramic broke her heart.
Some of it would be fine, but quite a lot had been removed, moved around, and unwrapped. So much had been unprotected.
The rain picked up and really began to drench everyone. Porcelain stood still, tears spilling from her eyes. The bullies walked off, but the third one still had it in his hands.
He lifted the vase up at her, already stepping away, and laughed, "I think I'll keep this one!"
With a ferocious, uncharacteristic leap she charged. Bright canines drew blood and the bully shrieked.
She had bit him!
"What the hell!" he scrambled. His friends doubled over with laughter, slapping their sides. The second one even fell to the ground, howling.
Even when she hurt them they could not be afraid of her.
But she only wallowed in her embarrassment for a moment, for something worse had started to happen.
The vase had fallen from his grip, and in a moment it shattered into pieces on the ground. Porcelain let go.
"Ugh! What the hell!" the bully cried stupidly, red-faced and coddling his injured arm. "You stupid snake!"
Porcelain didn't hear him. She stared at her perfect and beloved vase. She sank to her knees beside it, slowly, her shoulders slumped.
The kids were laughing and jeering and continuing to walk off, shielding their heads from the torrent of rain. Before the one she had injured left, he spat the ground near her, leaving her with that final insult.
The bare ground became soggy quickly, but she did not stir for a long time.
She did not clean the mud from her knees, nor the rain from her eyes.
She was so tired; she let the rain weep for her. She just couldn't seem to muster up the strength to bother.
After a long while, chilled to the bone from the rain, she did get up, and save what was left of her beautiful collection. It would be difficult to carry now that there was a hole large enough for things to fall out of, but could manage.
It was much lighter now, after all.
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"Oh, finally!" the young child cried when she stepped back into their small, yet well-groomed cottage. "You were starting to worry me! Did you get it?" she asked, allowing hope to color her voice just barely.
Porcelain was drooping and soaked. She didn't meet the child's eye.
She dropped her bag on their three-legged table and sat down, putting her head in her hands. "I only had enough for food."
Her voice cracked as she said it:
"I'm sorry, but there will be no medicine today."
~
Porcelain belongs to Apache.
[Adopted from faux as a Northern Skillow]
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