Meaning: Enjoys Food
Anyone who’s been on a planet with a Christmas tradition would have no trouble relating this fellow to jolly old Santa Claus. With warm red covering most of his body, he’s very happy, and very round; it’s a wonder the Zinnia can fly at all! This size stems from his love of all things edible, from flowers and insects to more exotic Hummgriff fare like fruit and liquid honey, if he can sneak a little from the bees. He’ll even try solid foods, if they look soft enough; brownies and cupcakes, anyone? Food is his love, and eating is his passion... But there’s no fun indulging alone, and this boy will always encourage those around him to try just a little of this, or a bit of that. This is tasty, have a bite! Come on now, clean your plate! There’s only a little left, best not to waste it!
Just like Saint Nick, this Zinnia is big and red. Most of his feathers are a lovely mottled red, shifting from deep scarlet (only slightly mottled by age) to a softer warm cinnamon on his back. He sports white on his wings, a bib under his chin and as a ring around his neck, as well as stockings on both his bird and mouse-feet. He’s not unusually long for his species, being about four inches from beak-tip to hindquarters, but his girth is nothing if not substantial... For a Hummgriff, anyway. It’ll likely just help you remember that he’s sitting on your head, or shoulder, or hand. He’ll be doing that a lot, by the way; flying tires him out.
Meaning: little dark one
This Lord exudes a kind of ancient air that expresses that perhaps he has given up on some aspect of life. His movements are always slow and heavy, as if he is fighting gravity with every step and breath. His eyes betray the quiet suffering within. The hummgriff Lord doesn't command respect through nips or by getting agitated when he is pet or coddled. Instead it's his mere presence that causes many to fall silent out of respect for what this little fellow has been through. His dreamscape is haunted with ghastly images of a nearby past that he would rather forget being a witness to. Quiet, reserved, his most likely pastime will be sitting on a window sil and watching the world move by without him. If there is any alcohol within his vacinity, bets are down that he's going to be sticking his beak into that glass and guzzling as much as he can of that memory killing amber gold.
After seeing the Carnation's body it's no shock that he has had a traumatic past. His pelt is broken by light pink claw scars. Several of his feathers have been plucked from his neck and head revealing the soft gray flesh beneath. A claw or two has been torn from his front talons. The middle of his tail is kinked showing that it has been broken at least once. Still no fearsome creature of battle such as a wyvern or dragon, this Lord's physical strength can be seen in his sheer size - he is one of the largest hummgriffs one could possibly ever lay eyes on. This male rarely flies or moves his wings, perhaps because they are so stiff no doubt due in part to another sustained injury. When he does fly it is usually in an emergency and it almost always pains him. His color scheme of course reflects his rank and mood by being the deepest of crimsons, so much that it could easily be mistaken for being black in the proper lighting. At times there may be flashes of this boy's old self - arrogance, pride, and naivete - but they rarely break through his current mask of weariness for long.