#oc elia

Anyway, here she is:

And as always, a few close-ups:

“Heir Elia,” a voice echoed down the hallways. Elia cringed, pressing themself against the nearest wall. They weren’t overly fond of being hunted with the intention their father’s manservant was hunting them.  To dress for the ball Elia’s father was throwing would be a disaster, of which not even they would be able to avoid. Elia was not overly enthused on dressing as they were informed they would be dressing - a gown. A gown! Elia would much rather wear trousers, thank you. “I believe I saw Heir Elia go towards the gardens,” the voice of one of the kitchen boys carried from the kitchen, barely ten feet in front of Elia. The gardens were on the opposite side of the compound, but it would give Elia time to escape. They internally thanked the boy, all the while waiting until the manservant’s footfall had quieted to sprint. As they passed the kitchens, Elia watched a hand snap out of the kitchens. They tried to slow themself, tumbling forward and landing on their face. “Hello Azri. You’re late,” the kitchen boy from earlier said jovially. He helped Elia up, dusting off their front. “Now, you promised to help me gather herbs and berries from the forest, what would I do without you to guard me?” Elia’s shoulders sagged with relief, the kitchen boy was freeing them from going to the ball - but they would have to guard this boy. He was barely taller than them, and his face was narrower by quite a bit. Elia looked over his face, trying to figure out where they knew him from, but they could not figure it out. “I, of course. I had to bargain with my master,” the words spilled out of Elia’s mouth not of their own control. The boy snickered, his eyes sparkling. “If you are still free to leave, we can head for the fields on the northern side of town?” “Thank you, Azri. Let’s go.”

Elia had been trained from early childhood to fight, dance and ride, but everything they did had not prepared them for trying to keep up with the boy. He and his steed sped ahead of Elia and their steed, Ashe. Elia tried to encourage Ashe to speed up, but she blatantly ignored Elia’s pleas. The boy turned in his saddle at a point, laughing at Elia. “She never cooperates when she doesn’t want to,” Elia grumbled, running their fingers through the soft feathers at the neck of the gryphon they were riding. “When she and I bonded, I had no idea how difficult she would be.” “I assume she could say the same about you?” the boy asked with a laugh. His gryphon turned, trotting over. The boy leaned forward, putting his hand on the neck of the beautiful gryphon. Hello beautiful. Your rider requires speed to get away from the tortures of political gain. For the first time in a long time, Ashe looked thoughtful. A musical chuckle filled the air, the other gryphon was snickering. “Ignore him, he finds it quite amusing to make fun of anyone and everyone,” the boy muttered, heat rising to his cheeks. Elia tried to hold back a laugh, for the blush covered not only the boy’s cheeks but his ears. “His name is Avion.” “And your name?” Elia asked, tilting their head, extending their hand. “I am sure you know who I am,” they muttered spitefully. “Yes, you are Heir Elia, or as your father calls you, his fool of a child.” “The dragon of prophecy - the Dragon who prefers no gender. The Dragon who will rule these lands as their first King. King Elia the Grimm.” “Are you sure of that, Heir Elia?” “I am certain.” The boy chuckled, leaning back in the saddle. The gryphon beneath him huffed, and the boy groaned. “Avion has demanded I answer your earlier question,” he grumbled, glancing at Elia. They raised their eyebrow, almost as if questioning if he would ever do as he was instructed. “Jamiac. My master gave me the name. Before that, it was just Jami.” “Which do you prefer?” He looked away from Elia, off to the woods on the far end of the compound. Elia sighed, shaking their head. They patted Ashe’s side, spurring her on into a run. Jamiac shouted, and Avion was soon matching Ashe’s pace.