Name: Doremy
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Craft: Minercraft
Rank: Apprentice/Candidate
History:
Doremy grew up in High Telgar Hold, the second youngest child out of four: two older brothers, and a younger sister who would leave to join the Weaver Hall when Doremy was eleven. His family was proud of their Minercraft tradition, and Doremy shared in that pride. He was a typical holder, and still is, in many ways: having grown up for most of his childhood in the Hold, his values and morals tend to line up more with your average Holder rather than Weyrfolk, though he is gradually losing some of his stiffness in this regard.
Doremy, for his part, never had all that much interest in the gemcrafting aspect of his craft, feeling more at home in the excavating work. He'd always had a knack for geology, and the cerebral aspect combined with the physical appealed to him, as well as the satisfaction of looking at a finished tunnel and saying, “I helped make this.” (At any rate, the most interesting rocks, at least to him, weren't necessarily the ones called rare or beautiful – he'd take a really unique piece of jasper or mica over a more traditional gemstone any day.) It was hard work, but something he felt he could do for a living. Journeyman status was still far off, naturally, but by fourteen Turns of age, it wasn't looking like such a distant pipe dream and more like an achievable goal.
Then, about a Turn ago, a gas explosion in one of the mine shafts killed both of Doremy's older brothers and their mentor. It was only chance that Doremy wasn't with them at the time, having stayed home that day with a bad fever. For several days afterward he drifted in and out of lucidity, recalling the terrible news, but thinking it to be some awful fever dream. Surely, surely it didn't really happen, couldn't happen... But he didn't wake, his brothers never came home. It would be the last time he would attempt to delude himself on a harsh truth.
The next time a Searchrider came through, Doremy practically threw himself at the dragon, quietly insisting that he didn't belong at High Telgar Hold. Really, he wanted to be anywhere but home. The green was somewhat taken aback, but not unkind, and upon seeing his persistence she responded with a cautious sure, why not. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with him that would prevent Impressing, and if he wanted a dragon so badly, what could it hurt?
Doremy's been at High Reaches for maybe half a Turn. He hasn't gone out of his way to make enemies, but neither has he actively tried to make friends. He attends touchings and hatchings with the same diligence he extends to chores, but comes away with no real expectation of Impressing. Coming to the Weyr was not about going to somewhere, but going away. He hopes the dragonets can understand.
Appearance:
Regardless of calories actually consumed, Doremy chronically appears slightly underfed. He looks young, with the kind of scrawny build that seems to be comprised of 90 percent knees and elbows. He's also very short, and seems to be almost constantly looking up when around boys his age, let alone the older Candidates. His small stature wasn't so bad at his previous craft, where being too tall just makes the tunnels seem more claustrophobic. Here, it just makes him look even younger. Doremy has a thin face with pointed features, and greenish-hazel eyes. His dark auburn hair tends to be pulled back into a short braid that just brushes the tops of his shoulderblades.
Personality:
Doremy is all business. Quiet, serious, singleminded when faced with a task that demands his complete attention, once he turned this focused energy towards mining, and now he turns it towards his role as a Candidate. He rarely engages in the kind of excited banter and speculation about who will Impress what and what egg will hatch as what color. Overall, those who aren't too familiar with him could easily dismiss him as being a good-natured but quiet young lad with a good head on his shoulders.
Which makes it even weirder when he makes it clear that his age, measured in relative cynicism, is about 102.
He's... okay with people, provided they don't make idiots of themselves too often. Mostly, the trouble is that he often tends to look at situations with a pessimistic point of view. And in the event that they do, Doremy is ready to run damage control. In expression and speech mannerisms, he wavers between distant, almost formal, and occasionally sarcastic/deadpan snarky. Rarely will he let extreme emotion show on his face, regardless of what he's feeling internally – Doremy is the kind of person who, if he needs to cry, will lock himself in a room, and then lock himself in the closet of that room, just to make sure no one can accidentally walk in on him.
He's won't spare your feelings if he feels you're acting like an idiot and no one will tell you. It's not that he doesn't care about the emotions of others; he does care, and that's why he doesn't just keep his mouth shut. From his perspective, it's like snapping at a kid playing with matches so they don't burn themselves: sometimes a little hurt prevents a big hurt later. When placed in a group to complete a task, Doremy is the kind of person who listens quietly, offering suggestions as necessary and taking some unglamorous background role. Unless it seems like no one is stepping up as leader, or the self-appointed leader is incompetent, in which case he will unceremoniously take over and start barking out orders. Doremy is generally soft-spoken, but he knows how to raise his voice, and loudly when needed.
Other:
Doremy is deceptively tough for his build; while he's a lightweight and will never be able to take on someone significantly larger than he is toe-to-toe, he's certainly no weakling. He could handle the physically strenuous work of mining, after all.
He collects interesting rocks, most of which he keeps in a box hidden in his room. Doremy would appreciate it if you would not touch his box.
