Rhaegal
Melee's illness was rapidly wearing on the new father. Rhaegal felt helpless, like all he could do was stand back and watch as his beautiful golden daughter withered from a happy, fun loving pup into little more than a shell. And in truth he could not even do that, ordered by the healers to stay away from the secluded den where they were keeping her isolated from the other young wolves of the pack. They'd told him she was highly contagious, dangerous for anyone under the age of two to be around, and that she must be isolated. All he wanted was to see her smiling again, running along the mountainous paths with her brother and sister. Finally, Moonfeather had given him a task, describing a type of plant for him to go out into the freelands and collect. Somewhere deep down he knew it was a meaningless task, one meant only to keep his worried mind busy with a physical task rather than allowing him to pace circles around the den.
So Rhaegal found himself down along the banks of the Aplos River, searching for a plant that grew in damp soil. "Three parts, five leaves....three parts, fives leaves," he whispered to himself, as his mismatched eyes scanned the riverbanks. His right eye was green, circled in pink, while the left eye was brown circled in green. An odd pairing, set within the same mask his mother bore. His black ears flicked to and fro, anxious to complete this task and return to Spirane with the plants.
Becoming parents hadn't exactly been something he and Bastille had planned. In truth, they had gotten a bit carried away upon being reunited. They'd finally recognized the feelings they'd had for one another for what they truly were, and declared themselves as mates. When the resultant celebration had brought about pups, Rhaegal had been a little shocked at the news, but that shock had quickly been overtaken by joy. Then and there he had sworn to himself that he would always be there for them, no matter what. There for them, and for Bastille. He'd grown up without a father, and seen how hard it had been on Daenerys when she lost not one, but two loves of her life. He could never do that to Bastille. And he would never let his children grow up not even knowing what their father looked like. Now, as he walked alongside the river, fervently looking for the plant that was supposed to grow here somewhere, all he wanted was to get back home and make sure his daughter got to grow up.
nine -- bastille's heart -- mêlée, eldrax & swifttalon's father -- young dragon -- spirane