Basilisk is a male RainWing owned by Shadowhawkart, both here and on the canon wiki, do not use him or edit this article in any shape, way, or form!
Basilisk is, in all honesty, a pretty ugly dragon. He is a RainWing, and so his scales do change color depending on his emotions. However, for the most part, he likes to keep his scales a sickly green with a dark turquoise underbelly, like the colors of a swamp or lagoon. They are shriveled and crusty with age. His wings are a slightly lighter turquoise than his underbelly, and have several rips and tears. His frill is the same color, and he has a black, smoldering scar on his right shoulder from a RainWing venom accident, causing him to limp on his front right talons. They are a gruesome black, and his eyes bulge slightly like a vulture, giving him an almost disfigured look. His breath smells like a combination of moldy fruit and rotten meat, which is why most dragons try to avoid him.
Basilisk is a grumpy old dragon, one of the oldest RainWings alive, at 130 years old. He complains about almost everything, from the sun being too bright and the fruit being too ripe to the young whippersnappers being too loud. Although he's quite sassy for his old age, he's rather harmless, as some young dragonets have discovered, and so they'll often bother him because they know he can get away with it. Deep inside he may have a tiny soft spot for a select few of these dragonets, but he'd never reveal that to anyone.
Basilisk has all of the abilities of a regular RainWing. However, he is not very good at scale camouflaging, and it takes him a long time to shift in between colors or to match his surroundings. He doesn't seem to care, though, just as long as he still has his corrosive venom at hand. He's slower with age and would not last long in a fight, but most dragons would never pick a fight with him anyway simply because they think he's too weak to do much damage to them (and in their case, they'd be right).
Basilisk lived through the entirety of the War of the SandWing Succession, although he hardly paid attention to what was going on in other neighboring territories. He spent most of his time sleeping on the wooden platforms where the sun would come out, regardless of whether it was actually suntime or not. He's watched other family members come and go through his lifetime, and hardly remembers his actual family anymore. Nowadays he mostly keeps to himself, grumbling incoherently as he finds a spot to curl up in and get away from the youngsters.