HEIGHT 6'8"
BUILD Thick.Muscled
HAIR Sleek, pin straight silver hair down to his lower back, often wore up in a ponytail.
EYES Almond shaped, red scleras, and very thin gold irises around deep amber pupils. They're framed in heavy black lashes, and at the outer corners there are very light crows feet, speaking deeply of how often he smiles.
COMPLEXION Sun-tanned olive flesh dusted in faint silver scars from his days of fighting.
REFERENCE →

LIKES Gold, brownies, fudge, coffee, sun bathing, fuzzy rodents, guns, violence, reading, sleeping, silence, fingerless gloves, the colour navy blue, having his scales cleaned, Ray Dragon
DISLIKES Tense situations, a dirty cave, crustaceans, clothes, bugs, gunk under his scales, people scrubbing his scales, bodily aches, bitter smells

But I Will Live Only For You

The day when Lyniak began to gain control of his mind was the day a young girl was introduced to him; His handler-to-be-- Azanil. He remembers it to be misty, fog rolling into his cave which was dank with moisture and moss. Every step he took to his handler-to-be sent rocks crumbling beneath him, the rough pads of his feet barely registering the sharp edges. The girl coward under his steady red and gold gaze, his massive size, and his sharp features. But mostly she coward under the silent snarl he hadn't been aware he as giving her. A trained in response to any human that dare come near him from all his years beneath the King's thumb.

He could not trust humans. They only meant him harm, or meant to control him. The evidence of both being the still-healing wounds and year-healed scars riddling his body in no discernible pattern, and the worn steel collar around his neck. The naked female that was his maid placed herself between Azanil and her approaching death, pinning him with a pleading gaze that somehow soothed his raised hackles and had him stopping in his tracks. Giving the handler a once over, he left the females be and wandered deeper into his cave; His once sanctuary that had been overrun with humans and the like nearly a century ago. Damn him for being careless and revealing himself to a wanderer and letting him get away.

The years passed uneventfully, Azanil doing her best to win the Dragonling's trust. Her attempts failed. Lyniak wanted nothing to do with her. He wanted nothing to do with humans. He just wanted to be alone. Those years she spend trying to gain his trust simply felt like days to Lyniak, anyway. He'd lived a long life thus far, and he was still young. Let her spend fifty years trying to charm him into letting her touch him, then she might have gotten some results. So far the only being he trusted enough to touch him was, in fact, the ever naked maid that cleaned his scales, and brushed his mane, and fed him. She was pleasant, as she did not speak and made herself scarce. She was pleasant because she did not want anything from him. This Azanil, however, wanted to tame him. Wanted to be friends with him. Wanted him to give up his solitary nature. The little harlot. He was very tempted some nights to just eat her while she slumbered.

But he did not. Instead he would lick his lips, lay down, and watch over the two women all night. The only time he seemed to get any sleep was when the maid was awake to keep the handler from bothering his prone body. And even then it was a shaky slumber as the maid's insistent walking about prickled his inner ear and sparked his subconscious.

When he seemed to have full control of his mind some years later he began to think on the handler and his maid's positions. They were obviously trusted by the King that thought Lyniak was nothing more than his war weapon. So he would not suspect them if they helped him to escape the confines of his once sanctuary, which was little more than a cage now. They wanted his full trust, and this was the only way he could give it to them. When he spoke to them--voice hoarse and gravelly yet oddly mesmerizing all together--they both visibly paled, a mixture of shock and confusion written on both of their faces. Who knew Lyniak could talk, eh? He always was so silent, save for the usual grumbled growl and grunt here or there.

He spoke of his wants for the first time since having come face to face with a human, and for the first time, ever, he asked someone for help. Help to escape his prison. And in return, they would have his full and absolute trust. They were shaky, but they eventually agreed after they built up enough nerve to commit treason against their king. Their whole lives had become intertwined with the Dragonling's, become about the Dragonling, so to be without him would be like losing a part of themselves. It was good that they felt like this. It made Lyniak's job that much easier.

So, putting his trusts in the humans, he let them lead him out of the cave in the dark of night, where the guard at his cave had become far too complacent in his duties. When they were far enough down the mountain and out of sight of the Kingdom, Lyniak took the lead and helped the females the rest of the way down the mountain. He caught them when they stumbled, tossed them down ledges when they were frightened only to have them land on a lip they had not seen, and even carried them when they got tired. The mountain was indeed a dangerous and harrowing place to be; To climb up took stamina and strength. To climb down took skill. The skill only a Dragonling could ever have.

When they reached the bottom of the mountain, nearly two days after setting out on their journey, Lyniak allowed the females their five minute break, then urged them on with a sharp push to their backs. They meandered into the nearest village outside the Kingdom's rule, gaining looks from every person they passed, both terrified and confused. A naked maid, a scaly beast with silver hair, and a clothed handler would draw anyone's eye, no matter how disciplined. The first thing to do was to buy the maid some clothing, which he knew she would hate after having grown accustomed to being naked. When she walked out of a shop in a set of robes and sandals, a flustered look on her face, Lyniak actually chuckled, it being the most amusing thing he had ever seen in his life. His normally stoic made disgruntled about her new clothing, something any female human would readily smile over.

The chuckle must have shocked the two much more than his talking those few days ago, because they actually shivered at it, their eyes going wide as they watched him warily.

And then he smelled their arousal and tasted it on the air as he inhaled through his mouth. A steady shiver raked his own body and his flesh crawled. Humans. So disgusting. To be aroused by a simple laugh. Well, he would take note and make sure to never laugh again.

After finding something to remove the collar from about Lyniak's neck, they set out of the village, the knowledge that the King would be hot on their tracks prickling at the back of each of their minds. Nobody stole from his Highness without repercussion. They spent years of their lives like this until news reached them that the King finally succumbed to his illness, a deadly infection in his lungs and heart that often had him coughing up blood. When at last they no longer felt like the King's whole army was following every move they made, just one step behind them, the tension drained from each and every one of them.

Having grown tight over the past couple years since escape, the threesome decided upon living together. They bought a house with the money they earned from selling vials of his Dragon blood--Sustenance that could give ordinary men unnatural gifts, such as invisibility, fire, scales, wings, and even the ability to teleport. One never knew what would happen to their bodies when they drank the blood. Dragon magic was a highly sought after gift by humans. So it sold well when Azanil started advertising it. They made enough money to buy a good sized home for the three of them to live in and all the amenities they so desired. Though Lyniak desired nothing but a place where he could sleep, eat, and stretch his muscles, Azanil desired jewelry, clothing, trinkets, and all that good stuff that rich humans needlessly spent money on. His maid, Shuyect, required nothing more than a room to sleep in, windows that could be closed so she could walk around the house naked, and cleaning supplies that would not harm Lyniak's scales.

Even after escaping together, the female still felt it necessary to take care of Lyniak. He wanted to object, but whenever he tried she would get this sad look on her face that spoke just how important this was to her. She had done this since she was a little girl no older than four, so she knew nothing else. If this was all she could do to make things easier on the other two inhabitants of the home, then she would damn well do it.

This was how they lived until the two women began to show their age by the wrinkles in their faces and the cracking of their joints. All too quickly his heart began to pound a staccato rhythm in his chest. He had grown so accustomed to these women. To have them die before he even grew to be an adult.. He didn't know what he would do with himself. So, thinking of only one thing that would forever bind him with these two humans, he carved two cuts on either side of his neck and cradled both of their heads into the blood, their mouths lapping at his flesh and cleaning up the crimson until his body healed itself and cut off the flow. He put the two women to bed, and when he woke up the next morning to check on them he placed pendants made of his flesh and scales about their necks, finishing the binding of their lives to his. They would not die of old age until he died of old age.

And so they continue to live, centuries later, neither of the three of them looking much older than thirty-six. As many long-lived creatures would like to have others believe, they were not world weary. Azanil, Shuyect, and Lyniak enjoy every day of their lives in the comfort of one another, and in the sanctuary of their mansion filled with knick-knacks and useless trinkets, electronics and computers, more clothing than one human could wear in their lifetime, and a seemingly ordinary door that leads to a cave carved into the mountain their home is built on.

Gallery

Pictures of Lyniak