Ocean Storm Egg
Though the eggshell is rather smooth, swirls of black, blue and white perform a dance of fury along the slightly pebbly surface, creating a maelstrom of images that defy its simplicity of texture. Waves seem to crash with millenia of pent-up anger, intent on wearing away whatever crosses their path; odd, jagged streaks of white play over the shell, lending to the feeling of foam atop chaotic waves, and errant, destructive bolts of lightning. Murky blues, navy and black entangle themselves into whirlpools, sucking the hapless onlooker into their depths.

Ocean Storm Egg cracks, the echo thundering across the sand as the raging storm displayed upon its shell proves its intent to be being released, and suddenly the shell is shattered and thrown asunder.

Tsunami Green Hatchling
A sea of green churns and broils, thrown out across the narrow angles of this teeny dragonet in unbroken waves: deep teal splashes tail and withers, breaking into a spume of white and blue along the quirky points of her spine and wings' sharp spars. Ocean's depths disturbed, a ghosting of sandy brown tickles her blunt headknobs and sprinkles dark streaks across her petite muzzle, cascading into the irridescent jade that surges over her slender neck and slight shoulders. The runt of her clutch, she is, marked in a riotous confusion of colors down her belly: lapis, gold, crimson and that irrepressible sea-bottom brown, a spectacle of color spins in an underwater mosaic. Too slim, all sinew and bone, there is a resilient power to this tiny tsunami, for all the current awkwardness of limbs.

A mist, like the gentle spray of ocean breeze, tickles the back of your mind, slow and subtle at first. Then it hits; the wave of emotions, of affection, of certainty that she has chosen, and chosen well. No longer a lone fighter, the battle is now shared, and the aftermath of the storm brings a calming, a soothing splash of affection and delight. « Siulth! » She proudly shares her name, and her life, with you.

Siulth. The name, as will the dragon, has stood the trials of time; It is the Gaelic for speed, and it is something this young spitfire lacks not. Smaller than the rest. Tougher than the rest. Most likely, better than the rest — if only at times in her mind!

She'll never quite manage to grow to the same size as her clutchmates, perhaps 19 metres at full growth, but Siulth makes up for it with inner strength; a fighter is she, hardy and ready to face up to anything to prove herself equal to the larger dragons around her. Always smaller, younger, lighter, lesser, she stands up and makes sure no-one dare think anything less of her for being that way; at least, not where she's around to hear it. She is most often lighthearted though, and she loves to play, especially with emotions — that is, the emotions of any male dragon. With a flick of her tail and a tilt of her graceful neck, she whirls them into a frenzy and winds them to do just as she wishes. Playful, capricious, she does many things on a whim, and her moods switch at a moment's notice, changing her whims and desires as well.

At times, she gets in a temper as well; a wrong word, a wrong gesture, and Siulth can fly into a rage that shocks even the calmest brown. So much fury from such a little dragon! But her temper is as quick to go as it is to come, and she forgives and forgets very easily. She enjoys being happy and fun above all else, after all. Being sullen and moody can have it's moments, and certainly can win her all sorts of interest, but the best of life is to be enjoyed playfully and with a childish glee that she never quite seems to lose.

Awkwardly stable Siulth will become, with time. She does what she wants to do when she wants to do it, but she will learn to do what is right for you, too. For you, Saoirse, she will be that strength. That rock. She will be the frustrative support that is there when you least expect it from her, one so flighty. But she will also be an embarrassment at times. She will constantly seek your stability, your experience, your life, for you understand the way that she is, even if you are not quite the same. For you, Siulth will offer a companion whose love is unrestricted. She will always be there to listen, to comiserate, to understand — and her sweet mind laughter brings a light tone whenever things become too despondent for you both.

Itchy Spot:
The sanding that tickles across her headknobs itches constantly, an itching that deepens down her neck as well, leaving her to the point of wriggling at times to make it stop. And it trickles down between her toes as well, leaving her hopping from one foot to the other to try and scratch both her front feet at the same time. Scritch her between the toes and you are hers for life — or at least, for as long as her flighty mind remembers!

Siulth's voice echoes that of the deepest seas; rolling, tossing, churning in it's endless rampage against time and decay. Lilting and tumbling, her voice is that of the toils of time. A wave will best describe it — not a wave of a gentle nature but that of an overpowering force.. like a tsunami. Yet all things have a beginning, and Siulth's voice is no exception. It will start small, and gentle of touch, tickling the back of your mind. Yet, if circumstances permit, naught will stop its path. Overbearing. Overpowering. Only one thing will settle it. You, Saoirse, are cove of Siulth's mind, the calm of her heart, the sand to the bottom of the sea. Siulth's voice can and will overpower your senses, your moods, if she so desires it. She will be the calm, if that is on her mind. She will be the antagonist, as most likely will be. Greens, emeralds, the color of the sea, sprinkled with sunkisses of gold. Touches of brown. Hints of red. You will not be able to resist her urges, her questions, and her thoughts, for she must have an answer, and now!

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