~+~ Name: WhisperedPromise (or Whisper) Appearance: Slightly tall and thin young Nightwing male with well kept scales that shine by the candle-light he so often reads by. His keen golden-yellow eyes flit casually about, taking in every detail of his surroundings while his dexterous talons can often be found toying with a tightly-bound scroll-case of well-worn leather or burnished copper. The silver teardrop scales in the corner of each of his eyes are slightly larger than average, and his wings are generally folded neatly by his sides unless he is flying, in which case he expertly navigates slipstreams and heat-pockets with well-calculated and conservative tilts of his wings, making good time despite his apparent lack of muscle tone. He will never be seen wearing any manner of "pointless" or "flamboyant" ornaments upon his person. Personality: As his appearance would suggest, WhisperedPromise is a dragon of spartan constitution and conservative mannerisms. Growing up without a father in what could be considered an impoverished household, he and his mother still worked tirelessly to ensure that Whisper would have a bright future befitting such a bright dragon, and the hardship he has endured to get where he is now shows, though quite possibly in the best manner imaginable. Whisper is generally polite, thoughtful, and respectful of other dragon's beliefs or ideas, but when his position is aggressively questioned, this seemingly withdrawn dragon can become an intellectual force to be reckoned with, as he has proven before in his dealings with others who envy his prominence in the scholarly world. To those that he calls his friends, Whisper reveals a dry sense of humor and a deep well of compassionate friendship, though he will likely never interrupt his work for all but the most urgent of matters. As a working dragon, Whisper has been noted to be tireless in his pursuit of perfection, and it is perhaps only because of this quality -- drilled into him by his mother with stories of his late father's exploits acting as a catalyst -- that he has enjoyed such a hard-won but relatively success filled life. Roleplay Example: Whisper sat in the dry coolness of his hillside base-camp, high above, the vaulted ceilings of the cathedral like cavern fading into darkness, penetrated only by the flap of small wings and the muted screeches of waking bats. Upon a mat of woven alpaca wool sat three yellowed parchments, each curled in that distinct manner that suggests a long time spent undisturbed in a scroll, and each of seemingly different levels of extreme age, one only slightly discolored and moth-sampled, while another lay hardly legible, not for lack of effort on the part of the no-doubt long dead scribe, but due to the depreciated state of the ancient artifact. Whisper mumbled softly to himself as he carefully scribed a restored version of the contents of the oldest looking scroll, translating it as he went, referencing to the two more recent scrolls whenever he encountered an unfamiliar etymological phenomenon. It often helped to be able to observe the evolution of language in order to better understand how a more primitive or differently focused language may translate into a more current version of writing. There was a commotion by the entrance to the cave and Whisper looked over to see his lead assistant standing framed in the massive and irregular entrance, still folding his wings from his quick flight from the dig sight down in the valley below. Whisper felt a nervous tremor come into focus around the other Nightwing, a feeling that was soon followed by a bumbling assortment of thoughts that were not his own, carried on swift and clumsy wings, as was common for such a startled looking individual. The actual contents of the thoughts were of little importance, but their nature piqued Whisper's interest and concern. "What happened?" He asked concisely, softly laying his scribing utensils on the mat beside the ancient texts, though not too close, it would be a tragedy to mar such wondrous finds with fresh ink. "We..." the assistant panted, "we've found something big." "Big literally, or figuratively?" Whisper asked patiently, though he already knew the answer. "The latter, Sir," the assistant still looked panicked, despite being well away from the dig-site and whatever had been uncovered there, "I.. I think it's from the Animus Wars!" WhisperedPromise bolted to his feet. ~+~
