Red. Black. Yellow so light as to be almost golden. Three shades, coexisting in knotted swirls across the apex of this rotund egg. A flash of green beside the red, a whisper of crimson alongside the black, pink and purple partnered with the yellow provide the only highlights on this shell before it slips into a broodingly dark brown. Like leather, only more sinister, the brown is criss-crossed with ragged lines that are marked with what could be mistaken for stitches holding pieces of the shell together, if it wasn't impossible to have such things on an egg. And if that weren't creepy enough, there's one spot that's… well. Eggs can't have an eye, can they? So it can't be that. Surely not. No, no, no. It's just a splodge that looks like it's watching you. Watching it. Watching you. You'd best look away. Do it now.
A Virgin for the Black Flame Brown
A spell for the ages weaves its way over the hide of this grimalkin dragon, accentuating shades of auburn so dark as to look almost black across the litheness of his figure. Although he may be swarthy enough to blend into the night, a keen eye will pick up myriad subtle nuances that paint him an umbrageous palette of bistred beauty. His sculpted face is gaunt yet not without charm, sharp eyeridges overshadowing his wide, whirling eyes and leading down to his pointed muzzle. Pumpkin freckles dapple the soft hide around his nostrils, muddling with cocoa to pale his lips, making his protruding fore-teeth all the more obvious. They curl over his lower lip, an obvious overbite that adds comical character to his angular countenance. A touch of gold curls around his sloping, slender headknobs, their tips faded to honey-pale blonde. The same pattern colours each of his neckridges, their very tips flaxen-faded as they crest the proud curve of his gold filigreed neck, the underside of which is dappled with the faintest hints of russet that continue through to colour his belly, and even the inside of his slender legs. Those russet dapples fade towards the midnight shade of his stealthy paws, imbued within the very strength and power that drives nimble movement and silent stalking. His never-still tail is a study in darkness, twitch-twitching with feline sinuosity - the upper side is auburn, the lower russet-dappled, with both melding into one obfuscous tip. To carry him into the night, his wings are wide - an expansive, impressive stretch of billowy sails and sturdy spars. Adumbral titian fades into a rosier shade towards the tips of his wing membranes, the trailing edges lined in satiny violet.