hehe dragon lore. here's isihogo's flight rising page :]
warnings: psychological trauma, description of PTSD symptoms, brief references to cults
tags: flight rising
Isihogo is a tiny child curled up in her guardian mother’s claws. She is the pale sharp stripes and deep blue wings from her father. She is the excited flick of her tail as she learns how to use her fans and heat vision, determined to be praised.
Isihogo is afraid. She is claws scraping against the hardened dirt as she watches Horizon and her cult leave Hagebyen. She cannot hide in her mother’s embrace anymore; both of her parents have left to serve Lightweaver. Isihogo is the fear that washes over her as she realizes just how much her world has changed.
Isihogo is a force to be reckoned with. She is the snap of wings as she dives to Eliminate a greattusk alongside her Coliseum partners. She is the glint of teeth streaked with blood. She is strong, and she doesn’t need anyone to coddle her anymore. She is the shine of four eyes in the pitch-black of night, and she is the flex of muscle as she stalks her prey.
Isihogo is alone. She is a whisper of thanks to the cafe owner who’s name she doesn't know. She is long winding trails paced through a garden. She is the nervous optimism in her heart as she makes conversation during a Coliseum run or a gathering trip. She is the shady tree she sits under to eat her meals, she is a single wind chime breaking the silence of the midday, she is alone, she is alone, she is alone, she is alone, she is alone she is alone she is alone she is alone she is alone she is-
Isihogo is cautious. She is the harsh click of claws as she darts away from the returning traitors. She is the ache in her temple from scowling. She is the heat that rises in her face when she realizes that the pearlcatcher girl has been watching her. She is the careful gaze tracing over the tundra’s dark gray swirled markings that match the pearlcatcher’s too well to be a coincidence. She is the mental note to not mention the Lightweaver around them, and the knowledge that the tundra’s father is not present. She is the small gasp of surprise when the pearlcatcher presses against her as they sleep, the soft pale yellow fur on her elbow tickling her back.
Isihogo is in love. She is the swell in her chest as the pearlcatcher (Twilight, her name is Twilight) smiles down at her. She is the warm breeze that ruffles Mettet’s thick fur, and the sharp bark of laughter when she accidentally cuts a chunk of his mane too short. She is the love she feels for her new family. She is a shy hello to the other pearlcatcher, and the crack in her voice when she calls her ‘mom’ for the first time. She is the stars in Twilight’s eyes when she brings her a present from a Coliseum trip, and the embarrassed giggle when Twilight places a crown of leaves and flowers on her head.
Isihogo is alive. She is survival. She is love. She is trust. She is the strength to get up again and again and again. She is grace, and she is ferocity. She is a careful trace of claws on her wife’s scars, and the tears that well up in her eyes when her son wakes up screaming from a nightmare. She is selfishness, and sacrifice, and dedication, and skill, and she is alive, alive, alive.