At first glance, Orias' frame can be considered glass-like. Frosted, crafted from careful artisans of celestial intent. If one were to reach out and press their muzzle against it, it will surely crack without due care. Fine boned, long limbs and whip like tail coiling neatly around slender hocks and porcelain hooves, the elegant slope of their scaled neck. Even the sharpness of their cheekbones and the tapered nature of their head lends credence to the descriptor.

The metallic sheen of their pale coat is dappled by smoke and peach tinted spots, beauty marks by any other name. Overall their palette is dazzling in complimenting turns. Accentuated by the deep golds and bronze of their scales, clasped around their neck and winding up their legs. Dotting their forehead in diadem formation, framing the sweeping horns which curl from their forehead.

Has heterochromia, one eye is the color of amethysts in sunlight. Crystal clear and sparkling, while the other fades into brilliant summer gold. Iridescent and sparkling.

To a lesser note, one could be also drawn towards the sheer amount of hair they possess, so much so that they take great pains to style it to varying degrees of success. Untouched, it's spills like liquid starlight, moon tears bottled.

Orias is gaited, and favors the gaits of their Marchador heritage.

Proud, Charismatic and Well Spoken. Suspicious and Sharp Minded, has a knack for sensing lies and fabrications. Manipulative and Opportunistic, unafraid of getting dirty. Loyal and Devoted, will fight, bleed and die for a cause and those who they adore. Focused and Determined, unafraid to rewrite the rules of the game. Has a Romantics heart, but has a Pessimistic mindset.

A voracious gossip and more than amiable if the company is right — and certainly no push over. Orias embodies the best and worst traits of their forebearers, and utterly spoiled by virtue of blood. Coveting and demanding, but surprisingly compassionate and understanding. The Sun and Moon at their zenith, the lullaby in the moonlight and blazing chorus of the sun. A constant squall of opposites and similarities. A natural born aborrence to all things unjust, yet dauntless in the pursuit of their own wants.

So the Moon waxes and Wanes, so Orias' dons masks in it's likeness if they cannot compete or flow with the moment. One wouldn't be held accountable for judging Orias upon their appearance alone, given that it's one which heralds excess and splendor. Shallowness perhaps, is the second thought upon another quick pass, but they are a complex individual who wars heavily within themselves. It lulls and settles, oceans are pulled by turns however, and so they succumb.

They yearn for equilibrium. A place to belong within the tapestry of fate. Walking the road of the forebearers is long, convoluted, perilous. Icarus & the indomitable sun, but they take to the task with a devotes furvor. Hoping, dreaming, yearning for the outstretched wings of their father to recede in the magnificence of their own sun. To fade into that quiet, sublime night beneath the herald of stars.

They are young too, and youth lends a sense of innocence and naivety often lost once the years begin to tangled their spindled fingers through half-written stories.

The first born of a union that traversed countless Empires and even lifetimes, brought to fruition on a second chance of divine intervention. Orias was the first, but not the last. Not planned, but certainly not unwelcomed, they were loved from the moment of discovered conception to their anticipated birth.

Born into a flourishing family of aunts, uncles and cousins. One would expect Orias to perhaps struggle to find their place within such an overflowing bouquet of many different colours. There were no two alike, and thus in a field of iridescence, the average may expect the withering of those who could not withstand the frost. Instead, Orias thrived. Flourished. Bloomed in adversity.

Voracious for knowledge, for secrets. To understand and know the divine and mundane. They grew to revile stagnation, perceived willfull lapses as something to avoid. One must constantly be alert, aware, making memorable pages within their celestial tome. Through the careful insistence of their fathers, they learned of the World through a wider, vibrant lense. Grew on tales of foreign Gods and their intricasies, their fallacies and exhaltation. They learned of foreign heroes whose names were entombed in hearts and minds, fondly remembered and seldom spoke about, less it somehow dulled the magic.

Orias listened, learned and came to covet. Compared to the lives lead by those before, should they choose to dwell within the birthplace of their line. Then would it not stand to reason, stagnation would find a home within their breast? Growing with each turn of the moon, pale flowers winding around ribs and heart. Against the pyres of the father, Orias looked at their own and found it wanting. Should they stay. The pale fire would not hold up against the raging, beguiling, enthralling hues of the ones before it.

Filled with exhileration, trepidition and determination. They announced that they were leaving, to find their own adventures. Disagreement murmured through their kin, danger was not at the forefront of their mind, but disappointment. Equipped they were, but one cannot account for the actions and whims of others. The lands beyond them were perilous and prone to change on a whim. The stories told to them growing up could be considered fables, one stated, unpashed by the delivery of their words. They would not stop Orias, if that was the decree. Better to let one learn rather than deny, and risk them doing it anyway.

So Orias, on board an iridescent ship, left familiar waters in search of the unknown. Following in fading hoofsteps.

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Accessories;
Joining Accessories;
Scrying Orb: a frosted glass orb held within their horns.
hair clasps; a small set of hair clasps used to tie their hair.
earring; a singular earring located in their left ear, in the shape of a dragon.

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art credits;
franknsteins @ da for reference image.