Welcome to Gaia! ::

((This is an open roleplay intended to get people familiar with Drachus's in-character personality! You may pop into this roleplay at any time with any dragonfly you wish, though please take consideration the state of the roleplay when you choose a dragonfly to enter with - if it's turned violent or too mature to where it would be odd for a child to turn up, please try to choose an adult or elder dragonfly. Either way, though, try to choose a dragonfly you would enjoy roleplaying in this setting! And have fun! =D

Note: This first post is BY NO MEANS the standard to set your posts by... otherwise, we'd be here years trying to finish this. e-e; I wrote it long just to give everyone a background on what exactly it is Drachus does during his patrols and the current state of his mind. I thought it fitting since... this roleplay is intended for people to get familiar with him. My responses from here out will be tremendously shorter!))


Cries for help were not rare sounds in a place as populated as Di'jai, but to the untrained ear, they would often go unnoticed. Drachus, however, was very familiar with discerning the high pitched screams from the forest’s normal, subtle din. Over the many years of his life, he had even learned how to determine the specific emotions behind a scream’s tone: shock, fear… horror. Almost a millennium had passed since he became Guardian – in just the early years, he had to gain these abilities, or else other dragonfly were killed.

Many hundred years ago, he had begrudgingly admitted that Di’jai was not unlike the human world. While true criminals were much rarer in the dragonfly community than they were in human society, they did exist within the forest; because of this, humans themselves were not the only dangers that dragonfly faced. Danger could also come from their own kind.

Extreme circumstances like murders and maiming did occasionally occur, but for the most part, the main negative activity Drachus had to combat amongst his own people were the all-too-common fights. It seemed as though his race, as it socially advanced, faced more and more differing opinions and differing dreams, and these differences lead to conflict.

At first, he wished a world would come where there would be no differences. There would be no fights in this seeming utopia, a world where there was complete and utter peace. Over many years, however, he realized that these differences, while they caused conflict, were also what kept his race progressing. These differences added strength and diversity; they added the ability to bring their differences together to build something completely new and advance in ways they could not if they shared a single, universal dream and universal opinions.

Now Drachus simply dreamt of a time when his people would come to realize that differences did not have to lead to conflict, that these differences could be respected. The humans had never reached this time – he now believed they never would have, even if they had not managed to destroy themselves. They feared and hated that which was different; they refused to respect those differences, and in the end, this lack of respect had lead to a conflict that destroyed their world.

In turn, that great conflict had lead to the reformation of the planet, molding a new world fit to birth a new sentient race, the dragonfly to which he belonged. Drachus fully believed that this transformation from conflict and death to the birth of Abelsia as he knew it, along with the appearance of the dragonfly, meant that his people were the new successors of the planet and that they could do what the humans could not: respect one another wholly and truly. For why would Abelsia create another race that would ultimately destroy her? He kept hope that one day, they would build a true utopia, with differences lead by respect.

It was for this dream of respect and peace that Drachus patrolled, day and night. If a human or outsider stepped into the forest, the wind would whisper to him of danger as sharply as if it pierced his skin with a knifepoint – so to know of danger from outside was not why he patrolled. Instead he sought to keep his people from becoming as their predecessors had been, driven by hate and prejudice, and to protect other inhabitants from those rare criminals within the community.

Given Di’jai’s size, he would use his powers to teleport from place to place, stopping, listening – using the skills he had so long ago honed – intervening in conflicts when necessary, and chasing criminals when one chanced to surface. Ber had started calling him driven, obsessed even. At least he did before Drachus moved from the tree house.

It had been… fifty years since he moved? When he had first returned to Di’jai, it had taken several years for him to recover, but even after Ber managed to regain some semblance of Drachus’ sanity, he did not patrol. However, the population of Di’jai grew, as did the forest itself.

When this growth caused a noticeable heightening in the forest’s entropy, he took to patrolling. These first stints were short, at night, and he would return to the tree house long before dawn. Then the patrols became more frequent and longer… then all night… then all night and some day… until eventually it was most of the day and all night. He only took time to eat and sleep for a few short hours in the dusky light of evening, waking when the moon had fully risen and the sun’s rays were no longer visible even past the horizon.

Ber had objected at first, and then he had begun calling it an obsession. Drachus had not denied it. Even obsessions could have positive motives, could they not? If he managed to keep his people from sharing the humans’ fate, then the loss of energy, time, and sanity was worth everything, wasn’t it?

When his frequent late evening arrival, nightly exits, and emergency entrances began disturbing the children living with him and Ber in the tree house, he left. He went to the cave where Ber had once kept him, and there he made a new home. Ber no longer called him obsessed. Drachus was not sure if he was not around the tree house enough to hear him utter the words, or if the elf finally understood the meaning behind his obsession. Whichever reason, all he had now was the patrols, the drive, and his occasional visits to Ber. His life was the patrol and the sense of secured safety for his people.

So this night was like every other for the past five hundred years: Drachus was out patrolling. At least he had been. Now he was fighting… also like every other night for the past five hundred years.

These… two… just… didn’t… want… to… stop! With a heave and a shout, he hastily kicked a dragonfly in elven form away from himself, and in that instant, he let his body drop. He heard a high-pitched ”swish!” pass over his head, the other dragonfly’s sword missing its target: the middle of his spine. Once again, he was stuck in the middle – his appearance to break a fight somehow caused him to become the target for both aggressors on most occasions.

Lately, it seemed as though dragonfly were getting more and more of these human weapons. He had begun to wonder exactly from where, but that was not to worry about at the moment. What was to be worried at the moment were… the two elven-form elders fighting and him now in the middle, trying to prevent them from killing one another – or himself. He was powerful, but he did not want to destroy his own people. He just wanted to stop the fight, without having to maim or harm either of the elders.

“Stop!” he shouted, holding his arm out to push back the sword-wielder.

With Drachus momentarily unguarded, the other dragonfly armed for another attack. Drachus managed to turn back toward him to see the elf’s own weapon, a pair of triple-bladed, slip-on claws, aimed at his face. He tried to pull back, but the tips of the claws caught his cheek and tore at his skin, slamming his head to the side and his body toward the ground. As he pulled himself back up, he growled instinctively, feeling blood slide from his cheek across his lips. The fighters had finally stopped and were staring at him with a similar look of horror one might give toward a rabid grizzly.

“Stop,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “What’s the meaning of this fight?”

The sword-wielder remained speechless, now gripping his weapon so fiercely in fright that his knuckles were whitening. The clawed elder simply made a guttural sound, his mouth opening and closing as his eyes traced a droplet of blood as it ran from Drachus’s cheek to the base of his throat. When the moment of shock and fear passed, the sword-wielder lifted his weapon and pointed it at his opponent.

“HIM! He … he is trying to steal my mate!”

“She is not your mate,” the other elder replied fiercely. “She claims she has no mate! Who am I to believe? You, or her?”

The sword-wielder’s vindication suddenly turned to mingled shock, horror, and the pain of betrayal. “She would never say that . . .” he mumbled, his sword tip falling as he lowered his defenses.

Absently, Drachus reached up and tried to wipe the blood from his neck. Mate issues. Of course it was; after all, issues with mates and lovers were some of the main contributors to fights amongst his fellows. This one, however, seemed to hold a few complications he had not been expecting.

“Where is she?” he asked, scanning the area. If these two were fighting now, most likely one had caught the other with the female in question… and judging from the ferocity of the fight, it must have been a rather intimate encounter.

At Drachus’s question, both men turned toward a tree somewhat larger than the rest, beside which stood a woman. To Drachus she appeared very young; dragonfly elders did not age past a certain point, but with the number of years he had lived, she seemed incredibly youthful – a young, wet-behind-the-ears elder.

“Come here,” he called to her, his voice ringing between the trees. When she stepped forward, it was not with the timid apprehension of being punished for what she had done, but it was with the confident stride of one whom believes they have done no wrong, that they are justified in their actions, despite the consequences they know they are facing. Consequences they believe are unjust. Her ego… needed a vast adjustment.

It was a good thing he knew just who to take her to, though he doubted Ber would be too welcoming at this time of night, at least in spirit, and especially not for a trio of emotion riven lovers, one of whom was a very egotistical young elder.

Annoyed at having to deal with a love triangle and at having his face torn, he teleported the three to Ber’s tree house with little warning. They yelped in surprise (the female especially so), and when their bodies reformed again, they fell to their knees. Ignoring their discomfort since he knew they ultimately were safe, Drachus quickly told Ber of what he had seen and discerned.

Just as quickly as he had come, Drachus teleported back to his patrol route. He needed to regain composure before he started his round again, and every second counted. Even the short time in which he could have allowed Ber to dress his cheek wound would have wasted valuable time.

Instead, back on his route, he went to a nearby stream and stared down at his reflection in the moonlight. The world was not light enough to see very well, but he could at least make out the direction and location of the gashes: the top gash ran from his cheekbone to above the corner of his mouth, and the bottom gash ran along his jaw line.

Tentatively, he reached up to feel their depth, and he became surprised that, despite their angry stinging, they were not really deep. He could probably get away with washing the scratches from the stream and leaving them to heal alone. The cool water seemed to soothe the wounds temporarily, but his body still groaned from the fight and the quadruple teleportation of himself and the three lovers. A rest… a short one… would not be so bad, right?

He walked to the top of a grassy knoll near the stream and looked up to the stars. The moon and stars were his comfort; under their glow his cheek did not burn as badly and his body was rejuvenated. In this short rest, he allowed his mind to wander. He would patrol again soon, but for just a few moments, he would just sit peaceably, watching the stars. It was a truly beautiful night.

He was gone again. Certainly off somewhere doing something...well she wasn't sure if she would call it bad anymore. Kimmi had a hard time discerning from good and evil when she was around her brother Incendo. He always had such...reasonable explanations for the things that he did.
Her markings gave off a subtle glow as she padded through the clear night. He had to be around here somewhere right? She entered a large grassy area and could hear the gentle trickling of a stream nearby. It was nice here. Peacful. She sighed as she knew this wouldn't be the place to find her brother.
It wasn't until after her sigh that she heard another dragonfly's voice. However instead slinking back off to find her brother she paused with wide eyes. Drachus? did he say Drachus? She had never met the Guardian before...her mother had mentioned him but she had never seen him. She looked to the other side off the knoll and spotted him sitting upon the grass in his elf form. He looked a little tired...and perhaps like he wanted to be alone...but this could be her only chance to meet him.
Kimmi walked towards the two her paws now hitting the earth without reservation. The last thing she wanted was the guardian thinking that she was sneaking up on him. "He..Hello."

A soft sigh fell from Buruomidu's muzzle. He was starring up at the sky and wondering what he should be doing other than just standing there. nothing could go through his mind though,and he has barely done anything since the time he turned into an elder. Heck! He hasn't even figured out if he can become an elf like most other Elder's out there. Another sigh erupted from his muzzle and he layed himself down.

The grass was soft under his fur, a smile grew on his face, and then into a smirk. nothing can beat today even if he hasn't done anything but just -sit- there. Maybe if he's lucky he;ll get to meet another elder-- Speak of the devil. He spots one right before him now, and not only is it an elder... it's... it's... IT'S DRACHUS WHAT THE HECK.

His eyes grew wide and he's staring at the wounds. Fighting for their rights.. Oh.. How dream--..... 'I'm not thinking that about the -guardian-, I can't it's.. he has a lover.' Omi shook his head and let out a small noise before continuing to stare at Drachus. Should he approach him or not? 'Wait.. he looks like he's tired maybe not.. But.. maybe I can help him.. No.. No .. Yes..?' He shook his head more and lets out a big sigh just staying there for now.