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Solo Entry Form

Rider
Name: Merrill
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Previous craft/rank: N/A

History:
Merrill is the daughter of the Headwoman at Arcon Hold, a by-blow from a passing bronze rider. She was raised along with the Lord Holder's own children, and it was always expected that she would take over for her mother one day. At a very young age, Merrill was expected to take on a lot of the smaller, more menial duties of a Headwoman - it was thought that she would spend her childhood and adolescence preparing and training, taking on more and more duties and responsibilities as she proved able. Merrill therefore has a decent background in a lot of little things. She knows a bit about cooking, a bit about sewing, a bit about healing... but she does not have a huge amount of knowledge or skill in any of these things. As a child, Merrill was not one to accept her fate quietly or easily. Being a girl who loved attention, be it positive or negative, she had a tendency to act out and was punished often. Everyone assured her mother that this was just a phase. She would grow out of her tomboyish attitudes and behaviors. Perhaps she needed to spend more time with the Lord Holder's daughters, a demure and obedient bunch. Oh dear, she threw their best Gather-day dresses in a vat of brown dye? Maybe if she had a task to focus on, such as weaving. Thats supposed to be soothing. What? Her weaving was found adorning the stall floors of the runner beasts? Well that was quite naughty.

When Merrill was twelve, her mother sent her to Malvern weyr to see if her father could make something of the wild girl. At least, that was the reasoning she used to assuage the guilt of the truth - she couldn't control her daughter anymore, and the child's behavior was threatening her position as Headwoman. Of course, being a dragonrider, Merrill's father had no time for her, nor did he want anything to do with a random b*****d child from some far off hold. The girl had been incredibly impressed by the dragons, and eventually a bluerider recognized that she had some potential to her. Merrill officially became a Candidate. Finally, she had a place of her own - not her mother's place as a slave to a Holder. Perhaps, as a Candidate, her father might recognize her and want something to do with her. Unfortunately, she was just as badly behaved as a Candidate as she had been at Arcon hold. Merrill discovered that her father's rejection hurt her more than she would care to admit, and her aversion towards authority grew to a focused dislike of those dragons and riders in positions of power, specifically the queens and the bronzes. She also began to notice a significant hierarchy within the hold, and the difference in the way people were treated, especially by those arrogant metallic riders, chafed. But she was young, there was little she could do. So she continued to act out and be punished, all the while her frustrations continued to build. During this time she did make a friend or two, however. Candidates who were just as frustrated as she was. Most notably was L'roh. The older woman became a sort of big sister to Merrill and where the younger girl's distrust of authority may have faded under a calmer mentor, L'roh fanned the flames of the youngster's passions.

Midway through Merrill's fourteenth turn, she stood on the Sands for her first Hatching. The experience was overwhelming and highly emotional, the girl watched as others Impressed and yearned for a companion of her own. She yearned for the status and attention a dragon would bring her. She yearned for the power she would find with a dragon by her side. She yearned for the closeness of that fabled bond. And when a beautiful silvery-green hatchling made her way towards Merrill, the girl's breath caught in her throat. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and she was firmly convinced that it was the prettiest hatchling on the Sands. So when it spoke to her... her! Merrill! Her heart nearly burst with joy. In that moment, all of the rejections of her past were lost as her heart opened up and was flooded with this new, beautiful presence.

"Merrill Mine! Close your mouth! Your Amaranth knows she is beautiful, but she is also hungry. You can adore me while you feed me!"

Amaranth quickly became Merrill's whole world. The young dragon healed so many of the emotional hurts that Merrill hadn't even realized had been festering inside her for so long. The two were completely devoted to each other, and it could have been that Merrill would have forgiven and forgotten all the injustices and slights that she had perceived in the past. All could have been well... but it wasn't. Merrill soon discovered that becoming a dragonrider did not suddenly change everything when it came to functioning in a social hierarchy. At least, not in the way she had thought it would. As a brand new greenrider, she found herself the lowest of the low in the echelon of dragonrider society. She wouldn't have been so prickly if the predjudice and scorn had only been focused on her. She had Amaranth, and that was all she needed. But the scorn of the other riders, especially the metallic riders, fell onto her beautiful little dragon as well. And the metallic dragons were no better, they pricked at Amaranth's pride and vanity, and every little p***k and insult hurt Merrill five times worse than her dragon.

Feeding upon each other's pride, the duo became determined to prove themselves better than all other riders, regardless of color. It was during this time that they fell in with the group that would become the Bolts. Each member of the group had their own reasons and their own hurts to nurse. And each member of the group had their own wild ambitions and pride. It didn't take long for Merrill and Amaranth to know that they had found, in the the Bolts, their true family. The family of their hearts.

As an added insult, though it proabably wasn't intended as such, Merrill was assigned to her father's wing once she and Amaranth were deemed ready enough. In all fairness to the bronze rider, her tried to give her a fair shake. She might be some random by-blow, but she had managed to Impress a dragon, even if it was only a green. As he had never paid a great deal of attention to his daughter beforehand (something that was not uncommon with dragonrider's children but that hurt Merrill nontheless) he wasn't as aware of her reputation as, perhaps, he should have been. He soon found out how willfull and disobedient she was, and Merrill found herself in almost constant trouble. The hurt her father had unknowingly inflicted upon her by his rejection was compounded by this new tension within the relationship. Additionally, his treatment of her influenced the other riders in their wing and Merrill found herself very much the black sheep. When Keller's agents approached the Bolts, Merrill was more than ready to take up his cause and argued vehemently for the revolution from the get-go.

During the fighting, things finally came full-circle for Merrill as she met her father on the battlefield and witnessed his final and greatest betrayal of her. It was at his hands that L'roh perished. (see prompt)

Description:Portrait
Merrill is tall and slender, with a beautifully thick mane of auburn hair and dark green eyes. She knows that she is a beautiful woman, and she is not likely to let anyone forget it. Merrill does not dress in frilly dresses, however. She prefers trousers and tunics. Her clothing is always exquisitely tailored and she dresses in shades of green and silver that compliment her coloring as well as that of her dragon's.

Personality:
At best, Merrill is unpredictable and at worst she is vitriolic. She prefers to always be the center of attention and she doesn't necessarily care how she manages that. Merrill is one of those people who always has to be noticed for something. She prefers it when people pay attention to her beauty and the amazing way she and Amaranth and the Bolts work together. She loves to be praised and complimented and showered with admiration. However, Merrill will also act out negatively if she feels she isn't getting enough attention from others. She will interrupt, show off and do wild and reckless things that put herself and Amaranth in near-danger just for the sake of being noticed. Her biggest fear in life is to be overlooked, as she was as a child. And so she is willing to go to great lengths to prevent that from happening. The adoration and fame that being a part of the Bolts brought her has been both good, as it has built up her confidence in herself; and bad, as it has made her become more reckless and sometimes downright arrogant.

Merrill is a skilled and passionate speaker, and she is graced with a decent amount of charisma. She has the potential to be a real leader, were she ever to apply herself. Merrill is not, however, interested in the responsibilities of leadership. In fact, Merrill is not interested in responsibility in general and she is always coming up with excuses or picking petty arguments just to get out of doing an unpleasant chore. She has a way of winning friends to her side, but she doesn't often make lasting relationships with others. It's hard for people to come to terms with the way her moods fluctuate. When she is sweet, she is very sweet. But when she is in a temper she is not someone most people want to be anywhere near.

Merrill's passionate temperment bleeds over into many aspects of her life, and once she has deemed a person a friend she is fierce in all aspects of the relationship. She is loyal, she is protective, and she will never waver from someone she has decided that she likes. She will give all of herself to her friends, and when betrayal or loss comes, it hits her very hard. This is not a woman who does anything by halves - she loves, hates, mourns and celebrates with every fiber of her being. This can make her a great deal of fun to be around, if you can put up with her reckless and risky behavior. She likes people who can keep up with her, or at least who have a healthy sense of adventure. There are few things she's not willing to try at least once.

Being so intense all of the time can be exhausting. Most people can't take her for long periods of time, and sometimes Merrill herself gets too restless and will dissapear with Amaranth for a few days without telling anybody where they are going or where they have been. She doesn't get taken by these moods often, but when she does she finds that she needs a great deal of open space and solitude - just her and her dragon. During these times Merrill sometimes has crying fits or falls into a pit of melancholic depression. She doesn't like for others to witness this aspect of her, because she views it as a weakness that she'd rather keep hidden. Largely, these incidents occur because she has so many unresolved issues regarding her parents, both of whom she feels rejected her. Merrill is deeply afraid of being rejected again, and when her intense personality has burnt itself out temporarily she falls prey to her fears.

Oddly enough, Merrill enjoys being domestic. She's a good cook, and she likes to care for and fuss over the other members of the Bolts. If they are sick or injured she will watch over them as fiercely as a guard wher. If they are sad she will do something ridiculous in an attempt to cheer them up. If she thinks they are being stupid she will scold them loudly and obnoxiously, but her intentions are good. These are the people who have accepted her for who and what she is, and she will be damned if she will let anything happen to them.


Age: 8
Colour: Green
Size/build: Amaranth is average in size, and is slightly slimmer than your typical green. Though this beauty will be the first to tell you that there is absolutely nothing typical about her.
Description: Concept
Here is a concept sketch I did of Merrill and Amaranth as weyrlings to give a basic idea of what her coloration and markings would look like. The artist is welcome to take the concept and play with it!

Personality:
Amaranth is a playful and sometimes silly dragon. She always seems to be in a good mood and life is one big wonderful game to her. She loves to fly in daring formations and show off her skills, the excitement and adrenaline rush keep this dragon happy. Because she looks at everything as some sort of tool for her own amusement, Amaranth does not do well with authority, especially when it comes to flying in a boring old wing formation. While she loves the adrenaline rush of fighting thread, for example, she would much rather do it her way - with panache and sparkle. When she absolutely has to do something by the book, she will try to add tiny little touches of flair to every day boring activities to keep herself entertained.

Amaranth is a beautiful dragon, and she is well aware of the fact. She enjoys attention and will preen and prance and show off to anyone willing to watch. She is a stickler for keeping well oiled and in perfect physical condition - no scaly skin for this beauty or you risk a scolding. Amaranth will be the first to tell you that other dragons most certainly pale in comparison to her beauty, and that the Queens have nothing on her. Those gold dragons are nothing but breeders and while their metallic shine might be pleasant, it's nothing compared to her delicate silvery markings and her physical grace and agility. Her vanity is usually fairly good natured, and most people smile tolerantly at it. But Amaranth's opinions of the Queens has been known to ruffle a few feathers and offend people - a fact that the dragon more or less ignores. People who don't recognize what a fine specimen she is are not people she particularly cares to associate herself with anyways. Amaranth is generous with her affections, she doles out compliments more often than not, but her compliments are almost always aimed at other greens, though she has been known to admire a handsome blue or brown. She never compliments a metallic dragon and other females who are not green she looks at with disdain.

She is a curious creature, and she always wants to know what this is, or who that is, or what those things over there are doing. She will stick her nose into business that has nothing to do with her, and had she and her rider been more inclined to obedience they would have made an excellent Search pair. In fact, it is not entirely unheard of for Amaranth to Search a candidate spontaneously when they have been flying around performing with the Bolts. Unfortunately, on the rare occasions that this has happened the Candidates are often returned to the Weyr a little worse for wear, as Amaranth also enjoys toying with her passengers and will commonly execute flips or rolls just to terrify them. She thinks this is an immensly hilarious thing to do and will gloat a great deal over how badly she frightened some poor passenger.

Amaranth has an odd fondness for whers. She likes to watch them and is absolutely fascinated by their vocal range. She is more vocal than most dragons, and she has been known to amuse herself by trying to imitate some of the noises that the whers make. Her predjudice against metallic dragons does not carry through with the whers, she has no problem with metallic whers. Her fondness for the whers is looked down upon by many other dragons and their riders, and people have come up with some fairly creative insults for her. Amaranth shrugs these insults off, as the people who cast them are not worth noticing as far as she is concerned. The slights bother her rider a great deal more, however.

Why did this dragon choose their rider?:
In Merrill, Amaranth saw a bright flame of passion and intensity that drew her to its heat. She recognized that Merrill was the type of person who would be game for anything, and Amaranth could tell immediately that the two of them would have grand adventures together and that their mutual desire for excitement would only grow as they pushed themselves to greater heights. She liked the rebellious nature of the young Candidate, it appealed to her own sense of superiority and individuality.

Amaranth is much friendlier and easier to get along with than Merrill, and her influence makes Merrill less abrasive while Merrill's ambitions and passion help to focus her dragon. Their combined sense of pride in themselves and each other inspires them both to push and challenge themselves, which has resulted in them becoming an amazing flying duo.


Prompt #2

The sounds of shouting could be heard at a distance, muffled by stone. Lamplight flickered eerily on the walls, occasional pools of light that were broken up by long stretches of darkness and danger. There was no telling who, or what, was lurking in the shadows. Merrill only prayed that they were on her side. She had gotten turned around in the warren or tunnels, distracted briefly by her connection with Amaranth who was fighting in the sky. The dragon was exultant, far too fast and agile for the bulkier dragons to catch she was in her element. And revenge tasted oh, so sweet. Merrill wished she were up there with Amaranth, she didn't like the close dark quarters in the tunnels. All the stone seemed to surround and crush her, and the darkness was unnerving. Thus far she had managed to survive, but she was too far from the fighting. She needed to find her way back, she needed to show them that even a lowly greenrider was as fierce and terrible as anything they could imagine. Fierce, terrible and quiet. She heard a scream come from a corrider to her left, a scream that was somehow familiar and therefore left her covered with icy chills. Clutching her knife, Merrill crept down the dark tunnel until she saw the source of the scream - one scream among many and yet... Her stomach turned over painfully. Lying in a dim pool of light lay a crumpled figure that was so very familiar to the young greenrider. Ah, no! Merrill could feel the answering shudder of sorrow and loss from Amaranth, and then was bolstered by a wave of anger. Her anger, her dragon's anger, the emotion was intense and bracing. Despair was burnt away and replaced by sheer hatred for the figure that stood over L'roh's still form. Merrill's knuckes were white as they clenched her knife and she crept forward. The figure raised his head and saw her.

"You!" Her father said, eyes widening in surprise. "Why aren't you fighting?" He asked, kneeling down to wipe his blade on L'roh's tunic. He was covered in sweat, the same as everyone else in those damnable dark tunnels. There was a fierce cut across one cheek. Merrill hoped that L'roh had been responsible for it. "Those damned rebels are getting the upper hand, girl. You'd better go and do your part!"

He doesn't know... The realization came to Merrill slowly. Her father, so caught up with himself and his precious hierarchy, didn't realize that she was not on his side. It was the oddest feeling, Merrill would realize later. She felt as if she were floating, looking down upon herself. Disjointed from the action she was about to take. There was a huge pressure that seemed to build inside her, all the insults and the abandonment from both her parents - but mostly from him. And on top of that, L'roh's death at his hand. The pressure filled her and filled her and filled until suddenly... pop. It wasn't until she felt the heat of his blood and heard Amaranth scream triumph in her mind that she realized she was standing in front of him, her knife shoved up under his ribs and into his heart. She found herself thinking that it was a good thing she'd taken a longer knife as she stood there, the dead weight of her father leaning against her, the two of them connected. It took Merrill a full minute of standing there in shock before she finally let go of the knife and stepped aside, allowing his body to fall heavily to the ground. It was almost another full minute before she came back enough to realize that Amaranth was calling to her insistently.

"Merrillmine! You have avenged L'roh. You have avenged yourself. Now come, my beautiful warrior! Come Mine! We have more work to do! There is more vengeance to be had! We will show them all how fierce we are! It will be such fun!"

The greenrider shook her head, a deep sense of peace filling her. It eased into all the little cracks and crevasses that had been left by her sense of abandonment and all the slights that had ever been piled on top of her. It soothed her spirit and she found herself grinning. There was no guilt, only vengeance. In her head, Amaranth screamed joyful triumph once again.

Solo Entry Form

Rider
Name: S'lar (Previously Siludar)
Age: 26 turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Previous craft/rank: Journeyman Healer
History:
Siludar was Weyr-born with all that entails. It never bothered him that he didn't have a definitive family group, and there was nothing more he enjoyed that being part of a large group and working together with a clear purpose. A responsible child, Siludar grew up with an appreciation for order in all forms and a good work ethic. He also grew up, as many weyr-born children do, with a almost fanatic appreciation for dragons. However as a child he was small and shy never building up the courage to ask about being a Candidate, or even put his hand up when the riders came round asking. Instead Siludar spent his free time just helping out where he could, enjoying being helpful to those who'd raised him. He never really took to anything terribly well, though he played with the idea of being a herder for a while as whilst working together with a purpose was fine he wasn't particularly social, and herders lived a more solitary life than other professions.

At eleven turns, Siludar still hadn't made a definitive choice. Even most of his peers who wanted to Stand had a backup profession in mind, but he still spent most of his days just being a general dogsbody, not that he saw any problem with it. More often than not, Siludar helped out in the Healer's quarters. He had a knack for detail and an accurate memory as well as a patience rare for his years that lent itself well to helping prepare poultices or washing bandages. He never really considered it as a career choice though, until one day whilst preparing a balm for dry skin he heard screaming. He hovered, unsure what to do - he wasn't even an Apprentice Healer, but he knew that one of the Journeyman who usually helped Master [Name?] was out visiting one of the weyrwomen who was near to full term. He dallied for only a moment before gathering numbweed for chewing as well as a numbweed poultice in case the patient couldn't chew and a bowl of lavender oil antiseptic and rushed to the source of the screaming.

It was one of the Weyrlings. They'd been taken out to practice firestone today and it looked like he'd been burned. His skin was almost bubbling and the weyrhealer was struggling to keep him stilleven with assistance of the remaining Journeyman and a pale-looking Apprentice. The Weyrhealer opened his mouth to bark at Siludar, most likely for appearing when not summoned, but then saw what he was carrying and voiced his appreciation instead, telling him to "come quickly for shards sake - good initiative, boy!". It wasn't the first compliment Siludar had had, certainly not. The weyr was a good place to live, after all. But it struck Siludar strongly. He fetched and carried poultices and cold water all afternoon till eventually the patient dropped into a fitful sleep. He was covered in sweat, his arms and legs ached from carrying water and he was covered in dirt with scraped knees from the time he'd fallen over in his haste.

Despite all of this, he'd never felt so useful. The Weyrhealer came out, cast an appraising eye on the small, scruffy child in front of him who hadn't thrown up, hadn't cried, but had simply got on with what needed to be done. (Siludar was shaking a little now, but he was after all, a child.)
"How old are you, boy?"
"Eleven turns, sir."
"Come again tomorrow and we'll get you set up with an apprentice uniform."

It was quite possibly the best day of Siludar's life. He threw himself into healing with a devotion that became a matter of amusement among some of the other apprentices, though he was happy to help anyone who was struggling. There were difficult patches of course - whilst some things came easily to him especially on the academic side, he never really stopped being a little awkward socially and bedside manner was a thing he didn't really possess. It wasn't that he was intentionally mean, more that small talk didn't come easily to him and he tended to go on at length about things he was interested in, including medial techniques that made some people a little green around the gills.

Seven turns passed, and he achieved the rank of Journeyman. His scrawny frame hit puberty and he grew tall and slender with the same gentle features, and perhaps most notably his childhood blond remained although darkened a little. Gentle ribbing for his looks ensued but in truth Siludar found it useful - he was tall enough to reach all the top shelves without being imposing to his patients. And of course, it made finding trysts somewhat easier. Like many a teen he experimented with both men and women, though his preferences soon became apparent. In truth however, he was far more dedicated to his work than any romantic inclinations. He was particularly interested in trauma medicine, including both burns and the puzzling threadscore injuries some of the timeriders had come back with. Several of his peers went on to Impress dragons - others after a few tries decided to take up alternate professions. One of his agemates decided to work as a Healer, and whilst he was behind Siludar in skill and knowledge he was pleasant to be around and they spent many afternoons discussing techniques together.

Siludar's life would likely have continued that way, if it hadn't been for what one could call chance, luck, or destiny. Whatever the reason when the eggs were due to hatch he was in the beginning of a relationship with the aforementioned Healer - lazy afternoons had turned to lazy evenings and companionable mornings filled with adventures in cooking along with medical discussion, and whilst he had long given up his dream to impress a dragon his lover still enjoyed watching them hatch. Siludar had never been to a hatching, a little sore perhaps that his younger self hadn't had the courage to say he wanted to stand - or simply too absorbed in his career. They sat in the Stands together, hands clasped and faces full of excitement. (Even Siludar's, who was renowned for remaining placidly calm at most times.)

The eggs cracked, dragons scrambling out of their eggs and heading with determination towards their chosen bonded. Most of them were down on the sands, a variety of ages - Siludar noted one tiny child, no more than 12 turns at most, embracing a young green dragonet. The expressions of wonder on their faces was amazing to see. To the surprise of both Siludar and many others, the next green dragonet to hatch bypassed the candidates completely and headed to the stands, almost barreling people over when they didn't move to find a muscled young woman who almost cried with joy. Siludar remembered her - she had stood for a number of years but like many had eventually dropped out, unable to face repeated dissapointments. She'd been in the infirmary a few times too with fighting-related injuries.

There were only a few eggs left now, not counting the Atypicals who were being helped to hatch. One rolled on it's side, cracking as another green dragonet fought her way out. The remaining candidates perked up but the dragonet wasn't looking for them. Two Stand Impressions in one day? Siludar sat back and blinked. Unusual enough that one would happen, let alone two. People cleared out of the way easily this time as the green walked. She was small even for a green, although less hasty than her clutchmate, trilling at people to get them to move rather than shoving her way through. Siludar smiled at the dragon, wondering who had gained her attention. And then something happened that would change his life forever. The dragonet turned in his direction and suddenly he /felt/.



And what demand there was in that statement - but behind that there was a kind of acceptance Siludar had never known. It was as if she knew everything about him, down to the tiniest good and largest flaw and accepted him for it, knew his limitations and intended to help him excel them. He moved almost without meaning to, disentangling his hand from his lover's but unable to speak or console him about the confusion. He dropped to his knees in front of the dragon that now owned him, body and soul.

"You know me."

That was all he could voice, and even that cracked in the middle. His dragon's eyes whirled as blue and green invaded the hungry red (and he could feel that, feel the throb of hunger) and even as she spoke again to him he was looking towards the arena for a food supply, towards where the other candidates who had been Impressed - and he'd always thought that word a strange choice but now he knew it to be wrong because this was beyond a mere Impression this was....well, this was everything.



And so Siludar became S'lar of green Araneth, and what was once the happiest day of his life was eclipsed one by one as every day watching her grow and talking to her and being with her was better than the last. There had been five greens hatched this time and they grew closer and closer as their dragons grew and prejudices against greens became more apparent. S'lar especially took to the the young boy he had watched impress on the sands, V'i - whilst he was shy beneath it a clever brain lurked and they played many a game of strategy together, many which S'lar found himself losing. And Araneth and Sayenith got along well too - picking out faults in the larger dragons flying was one of their favourite activities.

The relationship he had had petered out. Perhaps if they had been together longer it would have survived, but even then a stress would have been put on it - his lover had stood for years and not impressed, and to have S'lar who had never even stood impress because he had brought him to the stands...well, it was crushing to say the least. And with a new hatchling on his hands S'lar had little time for a relationship anyway. He barely even visited the healing houses where he had once spent all his time, too caught up with Araneth and his blossoming friendship with V'i. S'lar had never found himself being particularly paternal to anyone, but V'i made him act like an older brother in ways he barely understood.

Not that he didn't get on with the others. In truth the five greens clutched together soon became a formidable team, every spare moment spent practicing their flying and then later flaming because in each of them burned the passion of equality. For some it was a loud fight, for others a quiet, and each of them had their own reasons for it. For S'lar it was not the treatment of himself he protested - he'd had his fair share of ribbing over the years for his features after all - but the slurs upon Ayaneth, insinuating she was weaker some how, less worthy, for being a green, for being small and agile and unable to clutch.

And so he fought for her, for justice with her amused commentary and warmth in the back of his mind and speed and agility underneath him. In time the quintet were assigned to different wings to try and break up their shenanigans. But despite that, despite the fact that S'lar spent more time now on punishment duties than playing games with V'i or reading or even helping in the healing houses, he didn't, wouldn't, couldn't give up.

And then Keller came with his whispers and his promises, confirming what they all had thought. S'lar had had reservations - they all did. But in the end he looked to Araneth, now fullsized with those same whirling eyes - but so very small. Small in a way that made people look down on them all the more and it was decided, then, wasn't it. Because what else moves a Rider like their dragon?

Description: S'lar is perhaps a little taller than average and quite slender, albeit he's bulked out more now since becoming a rider. His long, straight hair is a pale blond colour and usually tied tightly back in a plait if he's working, though he wears it loose otherwise. His eyes are a grey shade of blue and his skin a pale tone that burns and refuses to tan. He also has sideburns, though they’re usually covered up if his hair is loose.

Personality:
The first thing of note about S'lar is that in general it takes a lot to get him worked up. Besides his crusade with the Bolts, very little seems to concern him immediately and even rude or personal questions are fielded with a dignity that begets most often shame in the person asking. Unflappable even in a crisis, S'lar's past in the healing houses means he's excellent at both stifling any panic or worry he might feel as well as prioritising correctly. This occasionally extends to delegating efficiently which sometimes gets him in trouble - a green rider should know their place, after all. This is one of the things(possibly even the only thing) that does work S'lar up easily. He has strong morals, especially concerning what he sees as injustice or opression. Growing up the weyr means he often has little place for Hold prejuidices and this can make him unpopular with the hold people he talks to.

Not that he talks much. S’lar was never a social person to begin with and being one of ‘those bloody green riders’ made him even more unpopular. S’lar is more the type to have a few close friends than many shallow friendships. He keeps most people at a distance, both emotionally and often physically – neither being demonstrative or a great believer in unneeded physical contact. Whilst he does enjoy relationships he finds it difficult now to keep them going – those without a dragon often struggle to understand why they must always come second best, and those with a dragon often disapprove of his general conduct.

Despite his general dislike for socialising, S’lar does enjoy looking after people. He’s always enjoyed order and purpose and community spirit so whilst normally people are regarded as a non-interest, as soon as they become sick or upset he’s there trying to make them feel better. Even those people S’lar doesn’t usually get on with aren’t excluded from his fussing if they fall unwell. This amuses Araneth heartily and you can usually tell if he’s fussing unneccesarily from the fact her eyes will be swirling almost neon green. Relating to this, S’lar enjoys interacting with children, especially because they’re much easier to socialise with than adults – far more straightforward.
Among some of the youngest weyrlings it has become somewhat of a game to try and get S'lar to react to anything they do. He's remarkably tolerant of this game and if one were to observe they might find him smiling occasionally at these antics. S'lar is very fond of children and teenagers alike, forgiving of their mistakes in a way he doesn't extend often to older people.
We’ve already spoken of the fact S’lar enjoys purpose. This means that he also tends to get very antsy if he’s got nothing to do – not overtly or even visibly, but doing nothing sits ill on his mind. It’s not usually something that comes to any fruitition however because in a Weyr there’s always something to do, especially since he became a dragon rider. Even in his downtime though, S’lar is usually found reading books regarding interests such as dragons or healing and not fiction, or polishing his mind through strategy games. He also doesn’t like laziness as a character trait and this is something else that can make him frown.
Actually there are a lot of things that S’lar isn’t very tolerant of. Whilst he stays calm throughout it, it’s far easier to make a bad impression on him than a good one. Combined with his excellent memory this makes the rider hold grudges long past the time they are due to be forgotten. This is an example of another one of S’lar’s more unfortunate traits - whilst his intelligence is useful it does make him a little arrogant and sometimes dismissive of those he considers ‘beneath him’ – though he doesn’t think this consciously and would be horrified it he realised it.
Overall S’lar is a calm, intelligent rider who has a few antisocial tendencies and who believes passionately in his beliefs - primarily people should be judged for themselves, not whatever prejuidices people apply.
Other:

Dragon
Name: Araneth
Age: 8
Colour: Green
Size/build: Very small/slim
Description: Deep green base. Brighter green belly/mouth/underside of tail. Mediumdark green eye markings and tail blocks like a red panda. Crests darkest green. Wings dark green with space like patterns. Eyes blue/green whorls. Dorsal stripe like buckskin horse, dark. Leg ‘socks’. Rough ref-scribble!
Personality:
Like every dragon and indeed every person, Araneth is complex. More complex than some certainly, and probably less so than others. Like many a sentient being however, she does have a defining trait – and that trait is determination. Araneth likes to see everything to it’s close and hates leaving things unfinished or undone. Often this is a very beneficial trait – not one to rest on her laurels she’s constantly striving for improvement. Jobs assigned to the pair are done neatly to the best of high standards, they never let tiny details escape them, and even punishment duties are completed with dedication. However. Determination is a double-edged sword, so to speak.
Like her rider, Araneth isn’t fond of being idle. She wants to be doing something all the time! However, being a dragon means that often she can’t be doing something all the time. This extends to training sessions. Araneth will be the dragon pushing to keep going even when her limbs are shaking and her mouth hurts from so much chewing. S’lar is a good match for her in this respect because he knows when she should stop.
Here we visit another of her traits relating to determination. Araneth doesn’t like being told what to do and often thinks she knows best – even when she doesn’t. This problem with authority doesn’t extend to situations where it would cause danger to others – she knows when to buckle down and just do what she’s told such as during threadfall or important practices, but it does present a day-to-day problem because she’s supposed to do what she’s told. She’s a green, for shards sake! Thankfully for the sake of the weyr, she does listen to S’lar who has a community-minded head on his shoulders and an appreciation for both order and hard work.
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate order. It’s just that she thinks the way they do it is wrong. Like S’lar she thinks people should be judged on what they do, not what colour they are. Unlike S’lar, she’s much more vocal about it, and less willing to behave in a ‘proper’ way.
On the other hand, Araneth has numerous positive traits that are often overlooked, and not just physically. Whilst somewhat impulsive, her instincts about a situation are usually good, and she’s much better at reading people than her rider. Her instincts have often gotten S’lar out of a situation which could have ended badly – both socially and otherwise. In general, Araneth is much more social than S’lar and pushes him out of his bookish, solitary ways. She enjoys the company of pretty much anyone as long as they aren’t too bossy and is accepting of everybody’s quirks, large or small.
But despite Araneth’s tendency to chat with anyone, she doesn’t bond with many. Dragons aren’t terribly social creatures, and even though Araneth is more social than most her loyalties are few and far between. First to her riders, second to the Bolts. When she does make a bond however, Araneth is devoted to it. Loyal to the extreme.
And Araneth knows herself as she knows S’lar, aware of her faults if unable to completely counteract them. She’s secure in herself and that confidence is something that can be very useful.

Other:

Why did this dragon choose their rider?:
S’lar asks you this, but only once. You know he says it because he is honoured and grateful and slightly drunk but you bristle anyway because he doesn’t understand by insulting himself he’s insulting you. Even intoxicated he seems to have realised he’s hit a sore spot and apologises, pressing his head to yours. You settle, eyes whirling back into more comfortable colours. You think about how to tell him but he falls asleep against you after a tiring day. You tuck a wing round him, cuddling him close and warm, but you think about the question anyway.
Why did you choose S’lar?
Inside your egg you’d felt those for the touching, felt their hopes and dreams – all so big, so large. When you found S’lar he hadn’t hoped for anything. He’d been content to serve others in the healer hall to the end of his days. But beneath that a fire burned. Banked, plugged with moss to make it sleep. Waiting for tinder so it could roar. You had wanted to be that tinder, to make him blaze.
But It’s not just that that drew you to him. You’re headstrong, almost reckless. S’lar is cautious, measured. Many of the candidates would have just folded beneath your anger, or let you push yourself too hard and you’d have burned out. Continuing with the fire metaphors, S’lar’s slow-burning. He reigns you back in when you go too far, just as you push him out when he doesn’t go far enough. You balance each other.
He needs you, but he didn’t want you and didn’t feel he deserved you. Didn’t have a desire to ride dragons and be a hero, didn’t have dreams of being the one. The candidates like that disturbed you, a little. But S’lar wasn’t needy and desperate – and you were afraid to bond to such hooligans, really. S’lar was like a balm you suppose. The calm in a storm. Clear, cool water.
S’lar has a sense of duty, but he can’t stand injustice.
He knows what to do in a crisis.
He, like you, doesn’t like to be lazy.
He wants to work on imperfections.
He’s your perfect counter, lends you control whilst you give him energy and fire.
Really you could say many things about why you chose S’lar.
But in the end it doesn’t matter because you chose him because he’s yours.

Prompt #3
When the fighting is over, S’lar sits slumped across Araneth’s form, blood oozing slowly from a gash on his arm, and spatters speckle and stain his clothes. It’s not the only injury from the fight, but it’s certainly the most pressing. He can see bone underneath and his mind is nattering away that it needs glueing or at least stitching and probably disinfecting. The throb of his arm is matched beat by beat by a tear in the membrane of Araneth’s wing, shot by some kind of arrow. They wait there, pain lost in the dizzy shock of revolution and victory, and the agony of loss.
Sayenith and Estath have gone between. V’i and L’roh are dead. And Fayneth is dead. They knew their would be casualties in the revolution. They’d even prepared for it, a little. But for a gold to fall, so soon after the death of a Crimson. They’ve won but S’lar wonders a little if it was worth the cost. Their thoughts whir and tumble, a clock pulled out of sync.
But heavy thinking is taking it’s toll. S’lar is weak with blood loss and battle fatigue. Araneth’s tail is wrapped round him tight enough to bruise and her eyes whorl in colours that warn others to keep back. Eventually another of their team-mates will find them. Or perhaps Kellar or one of his lackeys.

For now they simply sit, unsure what to feel. Joy or loss. Agony or peace. But whatever happens they will face it together, the six of them now.

I'm guessing we all got a spot, Tawny?
Here's Araneth's stuff! *u*; Other winners, do you all have Skype? Or AIM? Or MSN I guess?
Something where we can all get together and chat about stuff?

Dragon
Name: Araneth
Age: 8
Colour: Green
Size/build: Very small/slim
Description: Deep green base. Brighter green belly/mouth/underside of tail. Mediumdark green eye markings and tail blocks like a red panda. Crests darkest green. Wings dark green with space like patterns. Eyes blue/green whorls. Dorsal stripe like buckskin horse, dark. Leg ‘socks’. Rough ref-scribble!

Dragon
Name: Amaranth
Age: 8
Color: Green
Size/Build: Average/slim
Description: Here is a reference picture I did. I know it mostly covers the face and the inner wings, but it will give the artist an idea for what I'm going for. However you want to do markings on the rest of the body is up to you!

For the firelizard: Burnt pies (I have no idea what you will do with that, lol!)

Dragon
Name: Xenth
Age: 8
Colour: Green
Size/build:
Description: Soft pea green with dark grass colored speckles along her toes and the tips of her tail, along the length of her chest and down her stomach. Scars left side from the talons of another dragon and bite marks along her front claws.

For the firelizard -

Clashing. Bright! Yes?