You’re what the Nightwing tribe calls a seer. It’s a trait exclusive to Nightwings, adding to their mysterious aura. It was once an abundant trait among Nightwings, the ability to see the future or to read minds, but it began to dwindle and they didn’t know why. It wasn’t until after the war when Nightwings left the volcano that they began to understand why.
A Nightwing that hatches underneath a full moon will become a mind reader. A Nightwing born under two full moons will be a Seer. Likewise; a Nightwing born under 3 full moons will be both. Living in the volcano, it was impossible for moonlight to reach the hatcheries, so no seers or mind readers were born.
Your parents brought you outside the volcano regularly, knowing that it wasn’t healthy. The night you hatched they had brought you outside, not wanting the first thing you see to be a dark, dusty volcano. You were born under the light of 3 full moons. Eventually, your parents left you in the Rainwing tribe as a dragonet, and you haven’t seen them again.
After the Great War the Nightwing leaders were either killed or imprisoned, which left a whole tribe of confused and misguided Nightwings yo be dealt with. The other tribes were willing to cast Nightwings out, but the Rainwings were gracious enough to let them stay. Instead Nightwings were now the constituents of Rainwings, living under the rule of Queen Glory. Still, all Rainwings had a lingering weariness around Nightwings.
Nightwings had lost so many lives in the war, and anywho was left was malnourished or sick. Nightwings previously lived in a volcano, making it hard to hunt for food and also to get clean air. All of the ash made nearly every Nightwing sick. However after a few months of regrowth, Nightwing populations began to rise once again.
You’ve lived in the Rainwing tribe for what is essentially your whole life. While you are a Nightwing, you have grown up to exhibit the habits and behaviors of Rainwings, never having lived with a real Nightwing before. Seeing the Nightwing tribe take refuge in the rainforest was odd, and you can’t help but feel different. You were already different from the native Rainwings, but now you’re different from your own tribe.
Still, Crescent doesn’t seem to care. He’s a Rainwing, but begrudgingly he enjoys to call himself your partner. The both of you are mature now, 78 years old, but Crescent loves you. He loves the fidgety yet mysterious aura you exude, and he prefers to spend time with you. Besides, you act more like a Rainwing than the monstrous Nightwings that the stories tell. Because you’re a seer you have a good gig, exchanging prophecies and wisdom for money.
Crescent comes home as the sun begins to set, having spent all day in the daycare with the hatchlings and dragonets. You’re home, as he expected. Sometimes you’ll spend all day at home, writing down the prophecies you had seen. You always write them down, never willing to let them slip away from your memory.
You lay on the floor, dipping your ink-stained claws into the ink well, using the sharp tip or your claws to write down your prophecies in smooth, practiced handwriting. Your glasses sit on your snout, slowly sliding down.
Crescent lays down next to you, nuzzling his snout into the warm scales on your neck. His usual pale yellow scales brighten, a true tell that he’s happy to see you.