Username; Ravenshadow17
Name; Lark
Pronouns; He/Him/His
Answer to prompt;
Name; Lark
Pronouns; He/Him/His
Answer to prompt;
Lark is a walking contradiction. He has soft colors but sharp claws. He has beautiful fins yet a grin out of someone's nightmare. His name too is a contradiction. Lark is named after larkspur, a beautiful blue flower that represents strong love, positivity, dignity and grace. The kind of flower that one would expect a beautiful and noble kel to be named for. However larkspur is also lethally toxic and has no known treatment. The kind of flower that one would associate with a monster. And being a living contradiction means contradicting expectations forced upon him. And growing up, that can be awfully confusing. No matter how he acted, either with compassion or rage, someone was disappointed because he wasn't living up to their expectations. How can anyone learn what is right or wrong, good or evil, when everything they do is met with at least some negative response?
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When Lark was young he was innocent as all youth are. He was naïve and hopeful, a dreamer in every way. He would imagine faraway lands that he could swim to. Palaces of coral, tides that reflected stardust, mythical creatures who had watched the rise of life. Lark was often found writing about these imagined places, often in the form of poetry and doodles. He didn't have the patience back then to write full stories. He would often show his friends his work and their reactions were split just as everyone else's expectations. "It was beautiful and creative!" or "Shouldn't it be darker and reflect you?" As a pup Lark ignored the conflicting expectations and latched on to those who praised his creativity. But as he grew up, he began to notice the never-ending animosity towards himself. Others no longer hid their hatred now that he was older. Faced with such an abrupt shift, Lark was thrown and his art reflected it. His poems and doodles of mythical lands turned to into dark vents and desperate pleadings. Poetry and journaling his confusion and pain to cope. But it did not help in the end. Once someone saw his writing, saw his pain and anger, it was over. Those who had been calling him a monster for years were validated, and those who though he was a creative soul were disturbed and disappointed. There was no one left standing beside Lark.
His naivety and hope turned into jaded cynicism. His dreams crushed into the tiniest, most hidden corner of his heart. Seeing no other option, Lark dove into the sea and vanished. He did not want to make things worse. For many years he simply wandered the seas, still dreaming of magical lands, but only the magic had turned more simple. He wanted a place to call home, and friends who understood him. He wanted to be able to continue writing and drawing. And he wanted to have people enjoy what he created. Eventually he found his way into the bay of an old city. The cityscape reflected in the dark waves sparked his imagination so he stayed for a time. It was there that he met his first true friend. A kel named Viper, who saw the contradiction in Larks' art, as well as in himself and instead of feeling disturbed, accepted it. He encouraged Lark to keep creating his art, and ensured him that here, in this city, others would find joy and validation in it. For this was a city of contradictions and grey morals. A place of misfits and rejects. A place they all were able to call home. Because when everyone around you is a little crazy, wacky, or obsessed with some random legend, an artist of contradictions fits right in. Lark was finally home.
