Floral-Crowned Dragons are easily identified by the symbiotic plants growing around their faces and on the tips of their tails. They all give off a strong, pheromone-laced perfume from their greenery—though the specific scent is highly variable. Some smell like strongly scented flowers, some have an almost fruity smell, and others may even smell like freshly cut hay. These dragons are friendly and social, and maintain familial and friendly bonds by giving gifts and mutual grooming. Although they choose a new mate every year, they become invested in courtship and pair bonding during the spring breeding season. The best way to a Floral-Crowned Dragon’s heart is to present them with flowers—large or small, bright or dull, smelling like fine perfume or rotten meat—the dragon will accept them all, and prolong their life with their magic. Although some dragons may accumulate thousands of flowers from multiple suitors, only when one has picked a mate will a Floral-Crowned Dragon return the favor, often plucking a blossom from their own crest to give to the new partner.

Dragons are highly-intelligent reptilian creatures that—from a human perspective, at least—appear to live forever. Many different varieties of dragon exist, each with their own unique qualities, habitats, and behavior. Adolescence in dragons is usually marked by the growth of a hatchling’s wings, although not all breeds of dragons grow wings and some breeds have other traits that indicate the beginning of maturation. In Galsreim, dragons and humans coexist peacefully.

Lord Dionysus is one of the Old Ones, the dragons who manifest and vanish in mysterious ways, born of the land and just as unpredictable in their appearance and moods. His wont in recent years has been the South, where those blood-mad dragons of the Weyr of Flame bother him less in his roaming.

As a Floral-Crowned, Lord Dionysus is flighty by nature, appearing in the spring to mate with the bloom-wearing dragons of the Weyr of Soft Flowers. Well, one specific of those dragons, to the Lord's own bemusement. The Blue-Banded Puddleromp, with her brash, loud laugh, has caught the Lord's attention these past springs. Each year he intends to select another, for it is in his nature to change, and yet each year it is Puddleromp who lays his eggs, Puddleromp with whom he wants to spend his limited embodied time. She isn't one for romance; she chases him from her den with a laugh each year. And in that last moment before he leaves, the Lord wants nothing more than to follow her laugh back home.