As you can see above, in the likes/dislikes sections, Nova is extremely hypocritical. He dislikes crowds of people, but he draws them out to kill them. He dislikes people with arrogant attitudes, but he is extremely arrogant. He dislikes death, but he is the cause of so much of it. Nova cannot sit still - he needs to have something to do. He has recently discovered the amazing invention, the "book", and since he does not sleep, he spends his nights reading. It is a way that the sea dragon has found to calm his feral ways.

Nova is extremely quick to anger, and directly after anger comes violence. He has calmed down somewhat since his meeting with the sea dragon, but he is still dangerously unpredictable. He still has no problem with killing others, except he thinks twice before doing so now.

What Nova refuses to mention or admit is that he has a paralyzing fear of fire. Many, many mobs have chased after him with torches in his past, and he has come to fear its presence, because when there is fire, there are cruel creatures behind it, that wish for nothing more than his demise.

There is a legend about a beautiful dragon, cursed and transformed into a vile creature. I am here to tell you that this is no legend. This is truth.

The legend states that there was a dragon so blessed with beauty on the surface that there was no beauty left to distribute inside. I suppose it is true, but I still find it offensive and entirely unnecessary to include in a tale passed on from generation to generation. Ridiculous. Anyway, this dragon was known as Casaenova. This dragon was me.

They say that I was beautiful, but that I had no redeeming qualities. I admit, I never do remember looking anyone in the eyes. I have no memorable faces that I can picture, other than hers. But we will come to that later.

I was beautiful, and that was all I cared for. I would be remembered after many generations as the most beautiful of all dragons, the most glorious... I would be famous, and everyone would aspire to be like me. As it turns out, this vanity, this selfishness, would actually be my downfall. There are stories told to all children. Many are stories that teach a child life lessons through means of imagination. Mine happens to be one of them.

I so wanted people to want to be like me, to admire me, to desire me, to love me. But I never gave anything in return. They should have felt honored by my presence alone - I graced them with my beauty. I gave them a gift that no one else could provide. Wasn't that enough for them?

Apparently for some, it was not. Ludicrous. I realize that I could have been nicer to some. Others deserved to have their hideous faces pressed into the dirt. Those were really the only creatures I remembered, because I enjoyed being better than they were. They challenged me, and I beat them. Simple. Whatever. I was just better. They should have known.

There was one, however. A single creature that I did care for. A creature who's name I refuse to speak of any longer. She was just as beautiful as I, wonderful and elegant. She understood me because she was exactly like myself, and we complimented each other greatly. I think... I loved her. It was my first and only experience of the word.


But I was considered self-centered. After all, when you are someone's friend or lover, are you ever truly in the relationship solely for the other person? Hardly. When you argue with someone, you are angry because they do not understand you. When your partner is clutched by death's grip, you cry because you don't know what to do without them. It is impossible to be so selfless as the faerie tales preach. There are never any real happy endings. More people should understand that.

Again, I get ahead of myself. What was considered to be my one redeeming trait, my love for that woman, was not enough to save me.

One day, I cannot remember exactly when, a black and white creature, a foreign, strange dragon, appeared before me. I only remember him by appearance because of the glowing bloodred marks, twisting and looping, on his left foreleg. I wondered what those marks represented, and when I looked to his face, his face was twisted into a sneer. An ugly, sadistic smile. I could see from his bloodred eyes that he was judging me. So be it - I was perfect in every way.

He apparently did not think so. I only had time to notice a bright red light, blinding, and acknowledged a guttural growl before there was great pain, crawling all over my body. I shrieked and shrieked, but it would not stop. I heard laughing, twisted cackles of pleasure, and then...

There was nothing.

I awoke on the ground, lying face down in the mud. I slowly sat up, expecting pain but feeling nothing. I saw that it was raining... but I could hardly feel the raindrops falling on me either. I felt almost nothing. I slid into my human form and looked at my hands. I saw them there, saw the claws, saw the fingers. I bent them, and they moved. I placed them on the opposite arm, and began to rub them up and down, but I could hardly feel them doing so. Where had my sensation of touch gone?

I held my breath and closed my eyes tightly, placing my head between my knees. I rocked back and forth, heard the pitter patter of rain falling into the puddles in the mud. I stayed that way for what may have been a half hour, hoping that if I waited long enough to open my eyes, I would be able to feel again.

That was when I realized that I had not been breathing since I began to hold my breath. I gasped, taking in the air again in my shock, and I shot to my feet. Then I saw a disgusting creature, a face in a puddle. Who was that creature? He had horns shaped exactly like mine, but he was almost grey in appearance, his skin deathly pale, the scales beneath his eyes a green that resembled decay. I knelt down, wondering how such a dragon could have the power to use puddles as looking glasses. He neared me as I neared him. Was he taunting me? Vile creature. I went to hit the puddle with my numb hand, but I jumped back when he also rose his hand. Mimicking me, almost as if he was...


My reflection.

I heard a loud shriek of fear, only aware that it had come from myself because there were no other forms of life around. I neared the puddle again in haste and ran my hands down my cheeks. The figure in the puddle did as well.

I felt myself choking although I did not need air, I felt a tightness in my chest, but the tears did not fall, would not fall. It was then I realized, then it registered. Corpses do not produce tears.

I remembered the flash of red light, remembered the laughing... and suddenly the image of the black and white dragon appeared in my mind. I spun round and round in search of him, but there was no sign of his existence. No sign that he had even been there. "Where are you, you vile creature!?" I screamed loudly at the sky. "Where are you!?"

The laughing again returned, quietly at first, until it was so loud that it felt as though it penetrated my skull. I screamed for his location once more, and the laughing ceased to a chuckle. "...Casaenova," the voice spoke, as I tore through the nearby trees, searching for the source of the voice. But it resonated on all sides of me, it was everywhere at once. "You have two hundred and fifty years to break your curse. I will not say how, but it should be fairly obvious."

I hissed into the rain a challenge, "I will not be your toy."

The laughing picked up again, and when it subsided, the last words he said were, "You already are. Enjoy it."

I called into the rain after him, challenging him to appear, screaming to him that he would not get away with what he had done, but there was no response. I so wanted to cry, to release my frustration. As hard as I tried, no tears would come, and the rain trailing down my face did nothing to relieve the pain of being unable to release.

I screamed again, loudly so that it echoed through the trees. I screamed longer than any being that required air could ever scream, but it did nothing to appease me. I ripped and tore at the trees around me, scratching deeply into them with my claws, screaming the entire time as I did so. Only when the trees began to fall did my frustration cease in the slightest. I fell to my knees in mental exhaustion, knowing that any living creature would have fallen from the physical exhaustion of tearing down seventeen trees with the claws on a human hand. But I was no longer one of them, no longer considered a part of that category.

I wanted so badly to curl up into a ball and fall asleep, and never again wake. But just as corpses could not cry, neither could they sleep.

And her face appeared in my mind. If she truly loved me in the manner of selfless faerie tale love, she would accept me regardless of my fate.

With her beautiful figure in mind, I ran to her, running through the trees, caring not to turn to my faster dragon figure, my bare feet sinking into the mud with each stride. But still I ran, barely feeling the rain pelt against my numb skin, running, running...


I was at her -blocked- I opened it quietly - she always left it open for me to visit in the night. My dirty feet pounded against the floor beneath me, and I heard her call from her bed, "Who is there!?". I responded softly, stating my name, and I heard the rustle of her blankets as she stepped out of her bed, large enough for her human form to rest in. "Nova, everybody's been worried sick," she said as she approached me. "Where on earth have you..."

A scream, louder than any of my own had been, and I heard the sound of metal scraping against wood before she came at me with a knife. "Get out, monster! MONSTER!" she shrieked. "You are not my Nova! My Nova is beautiful! GET OUT!!"

My eyes widened as I saw her knife penetrate my chest, until nothing but the handle could be seen. She pulled it out, but no blood splattered across the floor.

And as I felt her knife cut into me again and again, feeling no real physical pain, I realized that the same kind of love I had for her would not be returned. The knife in my left eye did nothing for my senses, but the pain in my newly formed heart was immense, unbearable.

She shook the knife, my eyeball flying from it across her floor with a heavy clatter as it hardened into a crystal. She stabbed the knife through my heart, and pushed me to the window sill. I looked at her with pain in my single eye, but it did nothing for her. She pushed me from the window with a final scream, the knife still embedded in my bloodless, beatless heart as I fell.


My freshly tattered wings could not gain enough wind to keep me from colliding with the approaching ground, only enough to allow me to glide toward it. Although it mattered not to me, not anymore. My bones could break like my heart had. It did not matter.

Yet somehow I found myself once more running through the trees, running from the array of creatures that began to chase me. I ran and ran through the trees once more, until I saw lights of civilization once more. I knew what it was, the torches that lit the streets of a small colony of humans that lived in peace near us. I looked over my shoulder as I ran, heard the figures but could not see them. I ran through the empty dirt streets of the human village, and threw open the door into one of their storage sheds, slamming it shut behind me and locking the deadbolt. It could not keep the dragons from me, but it could keep the humans out for a while, and the dragons would not search through the homes of the humans.

I sighed and leaned against the back of the door, slowly sliding down until I was sitting on the floor of the shed. My mind was exhausted, so much so that I felt as though I would be unable to move. But when I saw a dusty old mirror sitting across from me, I crawled over to it. I reached out my hand and swiped it across the surface, removing the dust. The creature that stared back at me was far more grotesque than it had been in the reflection in the puddle.

I was silent in horror at the image of myself reflected back. My cheek had been sliced until the cut met with the corner of my mouth, leaving a disgusting image when I opened my mouth. My left eye was gone, leaving an empty socket and useless eyelid above it. The tendons that once held my eye in place hung uselessly, trailing out of the socket.


Desperately, I ran my hand across the entire mirror, clearing off the dust so quickly that the shed filled with it, and only when the dust settled could I see the full extent of the damage she had done to me.

The knife was still embedded in my heart, and I wrenched it out to peer at a wound that would not bleed, that would not heal. I had similar cuts on both of my arms, on my legs, on my torso. I had a wound on my neck, but I could not recall when she had made that cut. My wings were destroyed, filled with slashes, holes, and tears. They would never allow me to fly again, only to glide through the air for a short amount of time.

I truly was a monster, in every sense of the word. I heard commotion outside, as the dragons awoke the humans. I searched around with my clawed hands, and found thin, tight rope. Swiftly, I did my best to sew together my left eyelids, to reconnect every bit of skin that was left torn. It was done sloppily, and it was only a slightly less gruesome sight. I looked again, and found a roll of old, yellow bandages. I wrapped them around the wound on my neck, covered the ones on my arms, but still it did not help my sudden rage. I could not cry, so instead, I released my fury through the destruction of every single thing in the shed. I did not care that they could hear me, so I began to scream once more in unrelenting fury. I kicked open the shed door and came face to face with dragons and humans alike.

I saw them shrink away at my grotesque appearance, and I shifted to my much larger dragon form. I roared in blind rage, struck at everything around me, screaming and screaming and striking and destroying. The destruction did enough to release my frustration, and suddenly I was standing in the midst of chaos that had only recently ceased. I was only vaguely aware of being covered in the blood of dragons and humans alike, but I cared not. I did not care - they did not care for me. Not anymore.


For the years following these events, any person that saw me would scream in fear and either attack me themselves or gather the entire village to do so. I could never come close to a civilization without being treated as a monster. I was an outcast, a monstrosity, an abomination. I grew bitter and vengeful, unable to accept my fate. I've been told many times that the best way to overcome this obstacle was to simply accept it. I am not that forgiving, that submissive. I refuse to be.

Many times the thought of self extermination crossed my mind. I only acted on these thoughts twice, in the very beginning. I had wanted to preserve the stories of my great beauty in the minds of the people, but it did not turn out that way. But when that wench told all fo the land that I was the one "terrorizing the country" and that I had "returned to her a beast", I was furious, and only after I had finished tearing out her throat could I begin to accept that no longer would I be remembered as the most beautiful of dragons... but the most monstrous.

There was a time when no amount of blood could calm my fury. I traveled far from my home by then, to a foreign land whose words I could not understand at first, but dragons are fast learners, and I picked up on their language very quickly.

In this country, they tell stories to their young to make sure they do not wander around at night. The story speaks of a man who was returning home late one night, and how he saw a shadow of a dragon above him. Dragons flying at night and casting shadows are not uncommon, but this shadow was different, the shadow of a monster. This shadow had tears in the wings that the moonlight would be cast through, it had piercings on the wings. Two sets of torn, pierced wings that would near and near, staying just above the man. No matter where he ran, the shadow would follow, getting closer and closer, until the dragon was upon him. The monster killed him, but the gory details were left out of the tale.


I tore off his limbs with my jaws, spat them out again across the empty street, held him down with my clawed foot, digging into him with my claws. His screaming amused me, empowered me, made me feel as if I had control once more, control of his life. And I ended it.

I discovered the power in murder in this village. Their tales gave me the title of Harbinger of Death. If they wanted me to be a monster, so be it. I would be known throughout the land as the dreaded Harbinger of Death, instead of Nova of Great Beauty. Fine, as long as I was remembered.

I never knew how to break this curse of mine, and I figured that at the end of my time limit, I would be killed. So over the course of those years, I terrorized, I murdered, I desroyed. All for the sake of being remembered once I was gone. I survived on rage, on fury, on blood and death. Whatever emotion I felt could not be expressed without being released through violence. I lost all control. I did not care.

I did not keep track of the years, but it still did not surprise me when the great black and white dragon again appeared before me at night, this time in the paved streets of some sleeping town. The instant he appeared, I struck at him, again and again but he dodged amazingly. He smiled at me, another sneer, and then he too was in a form that resembled a human, and he held me by the wrists. I hissed at him, snarling and twisting to get out of his grip. He was incredibly strong, and I... so terribly weak in comparison. He smirked and spoke softly, quietly, tenderly but the malice was blatant. "You did the complete opposite of what I wanted. You were to become more compassionate, but instead you became a monster. You have failed."

I laughed, for the first time in many years, I laughed. It was a dry sound, with no humor. "What? Will you kill me now?" I brought my face closer in a challenge. "Do it. Go on."

Then it was his turn to laugh. How I hated that sound. "Kill you? Why, Casaenova, that would be a gift! No, I will not kill you... you will be stuck in this cursed, fragile form until your body rots to nothing."

He seemed genuinely amused by my surprised look, and he tossed me violently to the ground - I was surprised that none of my bones cracked - and he was gone.

Again with the cursed rain. It insisted on making my bad days worse, on reminding me that I could never cry. But I had no rage left in me, no energy to move. I did not know that someone could ruin another's life so completely twice. I was absolutely devastated, wishing for nothing more than fire to appear and burn me until ashes remained. Would my soul be attached to the ashes still? Will I be cursed to exist forever in whatever form I come to be?

I heard footsteps approach, but I didn't care. Let them hunt me again, I would not fight it. Maybe they had a way to kill me. Let them.

The footsteps neared, closer and closer, louder and louder. Let them come. I stared at the pavement, watched the raindrops as they hit. The footsteps stopped in front of me. I waited for the scream, for the strike. The creature, another dragon with a human appearance, leaned in closer, until I looked up to meet his gaze. He smiled softly to me, and his words were gentle. "You have the face of someone who has lost everything."


Someone, he said. Not something. "...I have."

He held a webbed hand to me, a sea dragon, and I looked at it for a while before remembering that when one offered a hand, to take it. Hesitantly, I placed my own clawed hand, so grey in comparison to his white, in his and he pulled me to my feet. "Come with me," he spoke again with a smile. "Let us get you dried off."

It had been such a long time since I had seen kindness. I was at a total loss. All I could think of was when he was going to try to hurt me. This was a tactic I had not seen before. "What do you care?" I hissed at him, but he only smiled again, softly. "You failed to break the curse in time... but that does not mean that you cannot be happy as you are."

I laughed wryly and pulled away. "So you know who I am? You know what I am and you still dare approach? You know that I am a monster, that I kill everyone on sight?"

He only smiled again. I was getting sick of that smile, the ulterior motives I'm sure lied beneath. But then... "You did not kill me."

Confused, I backed away a little bit. "...what did you say?"

He stepped forward, unrelenting, unafraid. "I was not killed on the spot. I suppose that makes you less of a monster than you think you are."

It had been such a very, very long time since I had seen such blatant kindness. I questioned it no longer. This creature was sincere. I saw him look into my eye, not at my lack of one. He kept his gaze in mine, not once looking at me to take in my hideous appearance. He saw me as another dragon, not as a monster. He held out a webbed hand to me again. I looked at it again, my eye wide in surprise. I reached for his again, startled by my own when I saw it trembling. From what emotion, I was unsure, but his soft grip was stable, and he began to lead me somewhere, toward his home I suppose.

As the rain began to fall heavier, he put an arm around my shoulder, as if he thought that I might melt away. He saw how fragile I truly was, but at that point, I did not care. I heard footsteps following us, I figure I had failed to register in my mind before, his bodyguard or companion, but I did not care. I was beginning to recognize this emotion once more.

Happiness.

That does not mean that you cannot be happy as you are.

I wonder if I will be...?

Nova had become the monster that he was expected to be. Constantly alone and constantly hated, it was such a sudden transition from being loved and admired that he snapped. Once he snapped, he could find no other physical way to release his pain other than through anger, through rage... through violence.

But then he met someone so entirely different from everyone else that he has met, and he is confused. He doesn't know how to act. He has absolutely no socialization skills - he never interacted much with people anyway in life - so he tends to overreact and he is very quick to anger.

With meeting this kindhearted sea dragon, he is introduced to others with dark pasts like his own, creatures that accept him, but the only one he might admit that he tolerates spending time with is the very first creature to accept him. He admires this dragon, though he will not admit it, and he learns the right way to treat others through this dragon.

He is still however, extremely volatile. If he does not like someone, he will be blunt and vocal about it. If he likes someone, he will be slightly less mean to them. Kindness, apologies, and understanding come difficultly for him, but he is learning. His thirst for blood is hard to stop however, and he still seeks out that black and white dragon for revenge.

None D:

Aqua



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Casaenova
Taken :D No theft please~


Kostume
Taken :D No theft please~


Illydir
Taken :D No theft please~


Chardreau
Taken :D No theft please~


Cylif
Taken :D No theft please~


Muirin
Taken :D No theft please~