mypilot-fr

[mypilot-fr]

HAPPY 4TH BIRTHDAY COMMANDER !!

My incredibly normal sweetie pie<3333

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Drew one of my dragons from Flight rising. He's chilling

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Commission of a wildclaw Khazad

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Would you like a freshly picked grub?

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Leopold for Rainbowlight in draw the dragon above you!

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Nyx for Creativity on FR 🔮💜

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It had been some few months since Anathema had settled like a tick in the hide of the Icefields. It had been only a day since Pestilence had joined her, a waif of a dragon more dead than alive. Looking at him, it was hard to maintain her vision of Rekhanci broken from within, her brother's sickness the knifepoint that cracked it. But he would, she knew. She believed—a fastidious disciple to his brand of corruption, unproven as it was.

Anathema had already made a place for herself within the city proper, but the walls of the city were protected and warmed by the Archmage's own magic, and such warmth would not do for Pestilence's health. He was a virus given body, and it was only in the cold that the spread would be numbed and put to bed. They would call on it when they needed, but in slivers and slices. They mustn't let Pestilence succumb to his own disease, whatever form it took.

Lucky for them both, the city was near bursting with citizens, cottages and other residentials spilling out past the walls. Those who lived beyond the bubble of the Archmage's magic did so willingly, taking on the natural cold of the Icefields with a stubbornness that defined their flight. Amongst them, the pair would remain close to the city, but outside the magic that would see Pestilence fester and wither away—and draw needless attention while doing so.

They took room in a small home a ways from the city wall but where its towering spires still hovered on the horizon. The city road cut straight through the borough, well-trodden and seemingly always busy. Pestilence, who had scarcely been able to move when back home, took great pleasure in being able to move about the town. He still looked ill, but now it appeared more the long-lasting misery of a common cold rather than whatever unique contagion Pestilence's body kept constantly simmering.

If they went within the wall now, would Pestilence's body thaw over time, or would the diseases that claimed his heart claw its way to the forefront immediately, eager to spread? How would they play their cards, how would they feed plague into the city without alerting to its origins? Theirs was a world of magic, and the Archmage was no fool. Her magic was her eyes, her ears, her will. Anathema considered her a worthy foe, superior to her martial husband, however blessed.

Time was their greatest enemy, but Anathema would see it as an ally. She was patient and calculating, willing her hunger to wait. Pestilence would breed some dark contagion worthy of the Hunt, and only then would they strike.

Pestilence stood in the doorway. His wings were tucked in close, sprigs of herbs threaded through the feathers—remedies from locals for his cold as they clucked over him, wondering why he didn't seem to get worse or better. The heady smell of thyme, lavender, and peppermint followed him wherever he went, wafting with each flick and flap of his wings. The aroma had been an irritant at first, allowed only to sow trust among the commonfolk, but now it had faded into the background among other forgotten thoughts.

"You've rearranged again." He said the words plainly, as if discussing the moving of a table from one wall to another. Not, as it was, the slew of carnage that greeted him.

Anathema's hunger was what felt like a third tenant in their little hovel, a whole other creature with which to make room for. She ate bountifully and with little care for mess, gorging herself on meal after meal that seemingly went nowhere after it was swallowed down her throat. It was not uncommon to return home to find her plucking scale or feather out of her teeth, blood already dried and flaking like bits of rust off metal. And metal she was—cold and unfeeling, seemingly unbothered by the grotesque display.

Pestilence supposed he was no better in many ways.

"I had to make sure our guest had a place to stay," Anathema replied back with a slow smile, "and now he does." She licked her snout and rose with a shake. "And how was dearest…our snapper friend?"

Anathema never bothered with names, least of all for these few who lived outside the city proper. They were small prey, not worthy of any sort of retention. Pestilence certainly didn't care for them, but he enjoyed the game of aping normalcy. The friendly neighbor, pitiable and ill, but always with an ear for another's troubles.

"Well. She gave me more tea." Pestilence patted the little green bag at his hip, stuffed full of ground and dried herbs. "Said it would help with the cough." When Anathema grinned at this, Pestilence couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh, how dear. Then you'll be all better. Wouldn't mother and father be delighted?" Anathema kicked aside a picked-clean bone and slid over to the window, peering out. Her mood soured like the flick of a switch, eyeing the passing dragons with open disdain. "Soon we can move. Plucking the spares off one by one isn't enough, yet I am stuck to it. They cannot notice a pattern."

Pestilence flicked his tail. He knew his sister's agitation was fed by her hunger, but it was her plan they waited on in the end. She wanted to use him, stubbornly refusing any other route. The reason for this evaded him; it certainly wasn't to keep him included out of love. Yet the sickness in him wasn't ready yet, stewing and shaping into something new every day. He was a walking incubator, adjusting himself to the Icefields to form the perfect plague. It'd be akin to his own child, dormant and nesting until it was ready to hatch.

"Why not hunt outside the city? There's that little town—"

"It is too close," Anathema hissed, "and my hunger is not so important as to ruin this plan." Her eyes were sharp and cutting, slicing through the street at each passing dragon.

This was what Pestilence admired about her, if nothing else. She had every reason to rampage and snap. To eat and never be full was a unique sort of punishment, one not even Pestilence envied. His sickness, at least, could be tempered—Anathema's constant starvation was not so easily assuaged. Yet she was as sturdy as a dam, unwilling to break. Her self-control would humble any other dragon, even as they were brought to their knees by her level of hunger.

"It grows, even now." Pestilence flexed his claws, eager to be useful. "We will take this kingdom. We will make it so."

Anathema turned to her brother, her smile wolfish and full of sharp teeth. "And then we feast."

[mypilot-fr]

quick dragon comms : )

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A dragon bust! I drew a persons dragon in browser game called Flight Rising.

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warmup with my progens (benny doesnt have his finalised skin/colours yet, so he gets to stay in uncoloured sketch land)

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To celebrate my (almost) one year anniversary of starting to seriously play Flight Rising here's my most beloved daughter!

She hatched like 3 weeks ago but I instantly fell in love with her and I'm currently saving up to buy Flecks o' Foil for her so she can live up to her namesake

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Dᴀᴜɴᴛʟᴇss - Tʜᴇ Tɪᴅᴇ's Lᴀᴍᴇɴᴛ.

↠ "She is the embittered cold, the unyielding tide- the battering breeze, the howling gale. Her steps are pounding thunderclaps, shattering waves, crescendos of war-drums. Her mournful calls echo broken laments, battle-cries of ferocity, and stirring monologues of resilience."

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↠ Hey. So...I've got two other pieces that I recently completed, if you want to check them out. I was pretty excited to share then, but I guess they've flown under the radar (more than usual, at least.) Yeah. That's it from me. I’m bad at the self-promotion stuff.

GʟᴀsGᴀʟᴀʜᴀᴅ 2025 | Mᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ/ʀᴇᴅɪsᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛᴇᴅ ���ɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴇɴᴛ.

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it took 4 years but my sedona/ no elim team is finally lvl 25 so i drew this to celebrate. there was absolutely no reason for me to make a sedona team it and i will never do it again. it took so long becasue every exp event i had to decide whether i wanted to lvl my terrible team or lvl fodder

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i love drawing pretty sparkly dragons hehe- for one of Light's raffle winners :3

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I drew this goober of mine, I really like Toxi's colors.

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finally got myself a Colorful Horse

his name is foop (all lowercase) because he was named that when I bought him. also his id ends in 420 so good for him

experience foop here

[mypilot-fr]

Commissions from Flightrising!