| Based on | Click to view |
| Artist | Sora Kurai [gallery] |
| Time spent | 1 hour, 36 minutes |
| Drawing sessions | 2 |
| 27 people like this | Log in to vote for this drawing |


username:
name:
gender:
why does he/she look like it was tied up?: (300 words max)




Favorite Quote wrote:"Being different isn't a bad thing, it means your brave enough to be yourself."
Out of many quotes, Drakon prefers this one above all else, because it relates to him. It also defies what his whole community thinks, that being different is dangerous, because it's far from being dangerous. To him, being different is a wonderful thing, after he gets past the reminders of his capture. Although it's hard to forget because he still wears the shackles although there is no chain attached.
Favorite Hobby wrote:"I like to write... Stories, Songs, that type of thing."
Drakon finds it a lot easier to write about what he think and feels oppose to saying it, he also has one heck of an imagination which helps when it comes time to write stories because he is actually able to make up a plot line quite quickly to only branch off of. Its something he does to get his mind away from the thoughts of his past and what it would have been like if he stayed, with such a wild imagination some of the things that he can think up that could have happened to him are quite scary.

Mis wrote:This had all happened many many years ago.
I was minding my own business in the woods as usual, exploring new areas of growth and encouraging fires to start it the areas that needed it most. I happened across a small village deep within some European montains. It appeared very primitive for this modern age, and piqed my interest. I was greeted very kindly by the residents, who fed me the sweetest of their fruits and the finest of their grains. They offered me a barn to stay the night in, and I had accepted their offer, thinking that nothing was strange.
In my sleepthat night, they chained me like a common monster or demon, restraining my legs and neck with cold iron and bound my wings to the floor withthe thinnestand strongest of their ropes. My bindings were so tight I could barely move from my little corner of the barn. I could lay down and stand up, but not much else.
Those cruel humans keptme hostage for years, feeding me only the minimum amount of food to survive. It seemed that I was imprisoned simply for my dragonish appearance and because of the humans fear of what they didn't know. Years upon years trickled by without my noticing.
It was only on a immensely hot and dry day that I remembered my ability to cough up embers. Some men outside were taliing about recent forst fires, and it was their wordsthat propmted my actions next. A couple of hot coals to my bindings freed me and also happened to set the dry barn on fire. I ran from the village in the confusion that followed, feeling no pity that those inhuman people had lost all of their animals and hay. It served them right for keeping me imprisoned.






Introduction: All Tied Up
Achilles is an escape artist. No way around it. It's the only thing he truly values,
aside from the handful of friends he has been able to make. It's not uncommon
to see him tying himself up for show, but there's another side to this Iqena.
Achilles is also a wanted convict. Due to his flighty behavior and skittish
tendencies, he has been declared potentially insane, although those who
know him can attest to his sanity. He is a loyal friend, after all. He has
become a scapegoat for the unexplainable, a scapegoat for all the crimes,
murders, invisible things that happen to people.
Whispers in the alley of a theft can trace it's rumorous origins back to
Achilles. No one thinks that it could be anyone else... Many have tried
capturing him for these alleged crimes. After all, who hasn't been
captured for the last few decades? Who has evaded capture time after time?
Oftentimes, Achilles escapes through only dexterity, using his rather
capable and fluid motions to snap the most supple rope. Of course,
that's usually the only thing available to him, although chains fare the
same way. Similar to Houdini's feats, he is also able to manipulate his
joints to escape, if sheer strength isn't enough.
In the following passage, I will recount to you a tale of where the
ropes and shackles came from. A being named Adonia wooed this
male once... but no longer. She betrayed him, turning him over to
the police after she made promises to clear his name. Achilles was
able to escape from the jail, but even as he escaped, he was still
labeled guilty and is on the lam. The bonds that tie him are a
remnant of the only person he trusted with his heart.
296/300
I fell in love with her, if love even truly exists in a world
like ours... I fell, hard and raucously, in a downwards spiral of deceit
and anguish... And I reveled in it. But no matter what I did, tell her
that I was guilty, no matter how much she wanted me to be, for my sake.
I flex my wings in the dark obsidian mirror of the windowpanes and
lightning strikes a tree in the distance, making a small fire. It's night,
and the only light I left on inside my room is the candle on my desk.
Guilty. The ropes in my wings dangle helplessly, trapped between my
feathers and I swing them, the way they catch the wind, the slight
tugging sensation... it feels almost natural. They've become a part
of me, ensnared, hostage as I once was. I can't say I regret loving Adonia,
maybe because of the guiltiness I feel when I think of her.
She was difficult to please, and I aimlessly tried to sate her unpalatable
hunger. Her fervent desire to consume everything was almost intolerable...
but she was beautiful. She was my porcelain goddess, Adonia... it could
have been a sin, the way I whispered her name in the darkness, and still do
to myself, whenever I feel safe. The way she drew me in was exotic, her
scent was like a foreign perfume and her presence was bewitching to behold.
She promised to protect me from the police's bad habits. Of blaming me
for the things that we all knew I didn't do. Of course, I couldn't confess,
and I guess Adonia had good intentions, but it was painful and scarring.
The ropes never came out of my wings, and the shackles couldn't be broken
after they were cast around my ankles. I'm not surprised she turned on me,
either. I thought we were working to clear my name, but when she smiled
maliciously and the jail cell shut, I know she felt nothing. I was guilty.
Days later, the guards stopped watching me as closely as they had been.
Often, I would be alone for hours on end, and soon, they only showed up
to give me my daily meals and to twirl their keys in my face. I started
snapping the ropes they had me confined with one by one and eventually,
I had separated myself from the wall. The shackles were heavy and it was
difficult to lift my hooves, but I gathered my remaining strength and saved it
for my final escape. The guards never noticed I was free from the ropes, as
a few still dangled from my body.
I twisted between the bars, contorting my joints to fit through and I was free
once more. I bolted from the open door, the guards asleep outside. I ran
until my chest burned and ducked into an alleyway before anyone could see.
They would never know, and that was the end of things. That was the end.
501/1000
username: Evils
name: Finem
gender: Male

Users browsing this forum: dimi., Hobbit Geek and 2 guests