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One is a curious little being, where that can simultaneously be their best trait and his undoing. He is endlessly curious, craving answers before he can even ask the question, before they can even properly conceive of it. This leads to him getting upset before very long, overwhelmed with the complexity of the answer, of the understanding that comes with knowing. It is often too much for them to consider because simplicity is never the answer, one wants all of it or they want none of it.

They tend to lean towards being quite mild-mannered and quiet, eager to resolve any conflicts before they even begin and doing his best to please everyone. This leads to him being unfortunately easy to push around or to overlook in big squabbles, if not find them downright annoying in their placating nature, but he means well and it shows through the care he tries to show everyone, even if he is not overly sure of them as people. Perhaps even a little scared of them. Them reaching out first is rare, but possible, after a particularly long sniff-test underneath the crack of the door. They try, a nervous animal through and through, shaking and quivering all the while, but they try.

He teeters between a calm complacency and a wild-hearted curiosity, never in between, never too far from the consequences of either. Calm quiet or a raging storm where it is difficult to see through the fog to get through to the person. It tends to be a method to scare the others away, trying his best to curl in on themselves and hide away without the intention of truly hurting anyone around him. Just scaring them off.

Despite their many flaws and their rapid shifts in mood that can be felt all across the cavern if they are not careful, he has been trying, he had been working and he has gotten better despite everything still being so new and foreign to him. No longer will he totally ignore the others around him, no longer will they refuse to speak unless they are one hundred percent confident in what they say. No longer do they avoid the curiosity that is baked into their very core. Emotions are still new, still strange and still something to get used to. Changes in state, as fluid as he now accepts them to be, are accepted as storms at sea are accepted, as an inevitability rather than having a taste for them. This is the one thing they have to take as they come. The sea is wild and has no holds barred, the same can be said for his emotions. Moderation is not within one’s vocabulary.

For now, one only hopes to survive, to reflect the same kindness and love that Mother has shown him, as a mirror would. With so much focus and attention paid to the mysteries of the universe, very little is paid inward, and so one is left with just the simple goal to be kind and to be loved.

They appreciate patience, they appreciate softness, like a blanket to wrap around them and keep them still during a vet appointment. That is the kind of tender care that they fight against, but know that it is good for them. The inoculation against future encounters and the reassurance of protection and acceptance. You will accept them, you will not view them as wrong as they view themselves. He knows he is bizarre, he knows this state is probably not normal, and he still hopes that he will make people happy enough to overlook it.

Outside of the clutch, outside of the egg, one radiates a fearsome miasma, protecting me and mine, keeping away anyone who wants to come too close. This is what is needed, this is what he wants to ensure that there is a safe environment for questioning and for answering. That is why when someone breaches it, when someone craves to know them, they will include someone eagerly. For such a small egg to be so damn opinionated.

Quite a small egg, tender and full of potential, carefully arranged within the sands to avoid being lost away from its siblings. It's small enough for it, certainly, one could imagine it being buried like treasure looking to be unearthed.
Wide at the base, a small point at the top, the stability of its shape would be a relief for the little dragon inside once it finds out. Easy to balance, easy to lay, easy to care for.

If one was not paying a close attention to it, this egg would be screaming for it, easily mistaken for letting out an eerie glow. Screaming for attention, (come here, take care of me, love me) or to be left alone, it wasn't awfully clear.

Splotches of bright blue are hidden throughout the scales like splashed water, or like dapples of sunlight creeping through the leaves on a bright spring morning. If looking past the wariness that the egg automatically instills, it's quite a gorgeous colour, even if it itself is unlike anything found in nature. The patterns, at the very least, do resemble something natural, easy to understand like little ripples atop a river.

Moving it is easy with how light it is, though you may be a little alarmed by the texture against you, being softer than expected. Should it not be a little harder than this? Less brittle at this point with the care of its mother? There are no visible marks to indicate damage. Perhaps something to keep an eye on?