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Makara · 1/11/2026, 3:44 PM

Everything was noise, a static that filled his head with an agonizing ache as his wide eyes scanned for her. The dragon's head swam, filled with a confusing mixture of memories that spanned across too many lives — but they all crashed down around the memories of Mythris. Of his family. Of Pasithea.

Near mindless, he stumbled forward, quaking upon weak mortal limbs and sliding upon the icy terrain of winter. The twinkling mist from the waterfalls half-froze in the air, touching his skin with freezing bites that were gentle reminders of his mortality. But he ignored the warnings, simply pushing forward.

"Makara!"

Oh, his mind was cruel, wasn't it? To hear her on the breeze was torture. The man would slow, sliding to a lilting halt as he opened his eyes against the dark clouds and winter mist. Every fur along his nape suddenly stood on end — he swore he could smell it, the saline mix of sea salt and florals. And out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, a beacon of light against a Stygian wasteland.

Pasithea ... First, a whisper.

Pasi! Louder, then, as he began to move his awkward paws and move toward her. Illusion or not, he needed to know. Segðu mér að það sé satt , he would beg into the breeze. He could only ache for her, reaching for her now with only hope in his rattling heart.

Welcome Back!

Greetings Stranger!

Cerulean Falls

the water dragon