Uhm, an introduction for one of my characters. A fantasy roleplay.
All was silent. The small room looked cramped; perhaps too small for any inhabitants. Day or night, it was nigh impossible to decipher, for the isolated window was firmly shut, blocking out whatever natural light the outside world offered; whether it be by moon or sun. Instead, a candle stood on a simple wooden desk, littered with nought but parchment, presumably notes or clean sheets. The small flame danced and weaved on the wick, as if trying to escape from it's limited fuel source. Wax slowly slid in liquid form down to the crude metal holder it was in, proceeding to solidify and stick to the surface. Shadows were cast on the walls, giving the small space an eerie yet somehow homely atmosphere.
Where it had seemed there were no signs of visible movement, a secluded corner of darkness shifted in it's muteness. A young girl sat on a chair, her face overshadowed by a large hood. As the candlelight shed on it, the material was quite obviously a deep, crimson red. The only signs of life upon her, was the slow rising and falling of her chest, in breathing. Her slim hands were rested on her knees, legs crossed. She was perching in what looked like a fairly precarious position, the wooden chair looking no more sturdy.
The first sound to pierce the pressing quiet, were a steady stream of incomprehensible words, uttered from the female figure's mouth. They were soft spoken, calm and smooth in tone. An incantation, perhaps. But alas, this was Celeste. More rarely known as Celestial Ferquithia. She was not practising any form of magic. No. Celeste was preparing herself, and concentrating all her consciousness on the part of her about to emerge.
The candle flame flickered slightly, as if a wind had just crossed it, though no draft was present in the room. Then, without warning, it ceased to exist. As if someone had snuffed it out, the myriad of autumn colours cast by the fire disappeared. The light smell of smoke filled the room, but Celeste seemed undeterred by the lack of light. If anything, a smile touched the girl's lips, curving their thin forms into somewhat of a smile.
Then, as if a new source of light had entered the room, the Morlia's features were illuminated, petite and slim in appearance. She slowly opened her eyes, the golden optics basking in the blueish tinge of brightness that surrounded her body. Then, a change began to take place. There was a heavy thunk, of scales on wooden floorboards. Yes, scales. A short burst of brilliant white light heralded the arrival of a pair of leathery wings, followed by the swift appearance of large talons. Celeste took her dragon form, pure white scales only just visible in the darkness.
The room regained it's earlier warmth, and a small puff of fire flew across it's length. The candle wick was once again the host of a live flame, and orange light shed onto Celeste, her new form's iridescent la
yer of overlapping scales reflecting it.
She would remain in this state, until she required to eat, go out, or if she was called to a mission. Which, she doubted, being a new recruit and all. She had not even met any of the other assassins yet, and although she meant to, her reclusive outlook drove the Morlia to only procrastination.
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