Big Guy, the King of New Orleans Requests Your Hearts Havoc
Wyverns get a bad wrap for being violent reptiles with no sense of order or prestige.
They clearly haven't met this guy, a violent man full of a need for prestige and cunning. He's a charming rumpus, holding his head high with unearned pride and arrogance. Really, he's the brains in the operation while his sister is the brawn, though he more than makes up for any shortcoming found in his sister with his intimidating bulk. The two of them hatch schemes and gamble away what they earn, full with the confidence borne of a luck-streak addict. They're rarely helpful to anyone but each other, but they'll offer their services to Ian for a price.
As a Havoc, Big isn't interested in much else but getting ahead and proving he's best. Even when taking his lumps and living down in the proverbial gutter, he's an optimist. He believes everything will work out right in the end, he just needs to hit that next streak, run across that next sucker. But also as a Havoc, he doesn't much care for anyone else outside of his family and bond-family. It's him and his sister against the world.
The size of a large draft-horse, Big encompasses everything about the name Ian called him offhand one day. His scales are a nice mix of pleasant creams and blues, his crest awash in brilliant sapphire, rimmed with diamond white. Streaks of lighter Caribbean blue run through his off-white wings, and his eyes are a fiery gold.
They clearly haven't met this guy, a violent man full of a need for prestige and cunning. He's a charming rumpus, holding his head high with unearned pride and arrogance. Really, he's the brains in the operation while his sister is the brawn, though he more than makes up for any shortcoming found in his sister with his intimidating bulk. The two of them hatch schemes and gamble away what they earn, full with the confidence borne of a luck-streak addict. They're rarely helpful to anyone but each other, but they'll offer their services to Ian for a price.
As a Havoc, Big isn't interested in much else but getting ahead and proving he's best. Even when taking his lumps and living down in the proverbial gutter, he's an optimist. He believes everything will work out right in the end, he just needs to hit that next streak, run across that next sucker. But also as a Havoc, he doesn't much care for anyone else outside of his family and bond-family. It's him and his sister against the world.
The size of a large draft-horse, Big encompasses everything about the name Ian called him offhand one day. His scales are a nice mix of pleasant creams and blues, his crest awash in brilliant sapphire, rimmed with diamond white. Streaks of lighter Caribbean blue run through his off-white wings, and his eyes are a fiery gold.
Little Gal, the When They Come to Destroy us - They Have to go Through me First Terror
A vicious minx, violent and prone to manic bursts. She flips between cooing and being in control of her emotions, trying to convince people she's no threat to them, only to have something set her off. She'll rip though flesh, limb, and structure then, with her brother the key to slowing and calming her down. No matter how angry or lost she seems to get, she'd never strike him. In fact, she more or less idolizes her big (yet younger) bro, willing to follow in his schemes and be a willing pawn. She's got quite the personality, for what effectively accounts as a rabid dog. At least if anyone ever roughs Ian up, she's got his back covered in a fit of rage and twisting scales.
She tiny and flighty, appearing meek though it's not her size that wins her battles. It's her inability to seemingly feel pain. Oh, she registers it, but it doesn't ever seem to slow her down. Her mental images are also spastic, lasting only a flash of a second before she loses grip on what she's trying to say and it flips to something unrelated. It's why Big usually does all the talking and she just looks pathetic, limping along as the injured helpless wyvern or winking with a snicker at the two-legs as they walk by. Her scales exist in tri-color, from a reddening of rust about her belly and partitioning up her legs and running along the bottom rims of her wings and crest. The second color is a pale sunshine yellow, basking the entirety of her face and base of her crest, then streaming down her body in horizontal spikes, blooming out in a streaking pattern on her wings. The rest of her body, from her neck, chest, tail, and middle portion of her frill is cast in a royal deep violet, shimmery as velvet left out in a midnight moon. Like her brother, her eyes are a brilliant gold, seeing only the shiny-shiny monies they both yearn for.
She tiny and flighty, appearing meek though it's not her size that wins her battles. It's her inability to seemingly feel pain. Oh, she registers it, but it doesn't ever seem to slow her down. Her mental images are also spastic, lasting only a flash of a second before she loses grip on what she's trying to say and it flips to something unrelated. It's why Big usually does all the talking and she just looks pathetic, limping along as the injured helpless wyvern or winking with a snicker at the two-legs as they walk by. Her scales exist in tri-color, from a reddening of rust about her belly and partitioning up her legs and running along the bottom rims of her wings and crest. The second color is a pale sunshine yellow, basking the entirety of her face and base of her crest, then streaming down her body in horizontal spikes, blooming out in a streaking pattern on her wings. The rest of her body, from her neck, chest, tail, and middle portion of her frill is cast in a royal deep violet, shimmery as velvet left out in a midnight moon. Like her brother, her eyes are a brilliant gold, seeing only the shiny-shiny monies they both yearn for.