At our Dragon's Feast of Ideas, we established that it would be helpful to have a few things here to help with roleplaying, interacting, and integration into the environment. I will list each topic separately in this thread, and we can expand on them together. Please reply to the related topic so that the ideas fall in line for better clarity.

By the time we reached a narrow shelf halfway down the mountain, dusk had bled into night, the sky bruised purple and gold like a dying ember. The wind sharpened, and I knew we couldn’t go farther. I pitched my small tent against the rock face and began gathering what little wood the cliff allowed, fumbling with stiff fingers. Before I could strike a spark, the hatchling tilted his head, eyes glowing with sudden understanding. He inhaled too deeply, then sneezed—a tiny, sputtering flame popping from his mouth and catching the kindling alight. He startled himself more than me, hopping back before proudly craning his neck as the fire took hold. We shared what rations I had—water, dried meat, crumbs he sniffed suspiciously before nibbling—and as the fire crackled, I laughed softly and said, “You can’t stay nameless.” He looked up at me, firelight dancing across his dark blue and violet scales, shining like a night sky holding onto its last star. “Sunny,” I said, and his tail thumped once, as if the name fit. When sleep finally pulled at me, I crawled into the tent, leaving the flap open. Sunny curled beside the entrance, wings folded tight, chin resting on his claws—guarding the fire, the mountain, and me.

We watch the small brown one gnawing upon the green, swaying things. We do not understand. Why would it eat its kin? Does it care naught for its life? Yet it does not fear them. It consumes the green things, content, as though nothing has been lost. Then we notice more. Quick ones with tails that flicker, cracking open the children of the tall green things to consume their hidden treasures. Winged ones darting, plucking tiny lives from the air. Tall ones moving with grace, walking upon the green without concern. None of them worry. None of them fear. We step back onto the green, cautious. Our heat dries it, blackens it. We withdraw, ashamed. We dim ourselves, drawing the fire inward. We try again. Again and again we step, until at last the green endures. It lives beneath us. We marvel at the feel of it, soft against our form. It complains not at all. It does not attack or cry out. It bends beneath our weight, only to spring back when we move on. Do we dare? Another step. And another. And we are out of our warm place. We are… safe? We look about. The small ones show no concern. The large ones stare but say nothing. They all move on. Curious. The green things… ??? We walk slowly through the field of tall green ones. We take note of the life around us. We call to them, but they do not answer. They stare, or they turn away. Some make noises, but we cannot decipher them. We sniff at the things we find. Some scents are pleasant, some not. The bright-colored ones smell the best. They are a delight to behold, their hues like the spectrum Mother taught us. After a time, we rest in a small field of green. Our warmth pulses outward, gentle, steady. Small creatures approach, circling us. They sit within our glow. Then larger ones appear, forming a ring around us. We marvel. We wonder at the variety of beings. So many shapes. So many lives. All gathered here, unafraid. Mother will be pleased.