Name: Amodine Age: 21 Nameday: 3555.13.27 Sex: Cis woman Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Status: Single Weyr: High Reaches Weyr Rider Rank: Junior weyrwoman Previous Rank/Craft: Apprentice Woodcrafter, botanist specialty. Physical Description: She's perhaps a bit average on first glance, intentionally cultivating that appearance in order to escape much more notice. Even still, there's just something about her that draws the eye, a perk from Impression that she's given up trying to shake; Amodine is pretty, that much is true, but she's still giving a halfhearted attempt toward hiding it. Her features are delicate, although often hidden behind a rather haphazardly-attended cloud of dark natural hair; it fades out from black toward a warm brown at the tips, faded by time spent in the sun, and is most often kept gently pinned away from most of her eyes. Her skin is a warm, rich brown, speckled with slight freckles, and she only has a few small scars from tiny adventures in her childhood. Her eyes are a bright silver, often slightly magnified by her glasses into looking more bewildered than anything else, and whether or not the nervous tilt to her eyebrows is natural or a near-constant expression is a bit of a mystery at this point. Amodine stands at roughly 5'8", although she slouches just enough to knock that down by an inch or so, and she's definitely built up a solid layer of muscle from all her training as a rider, not to mention all her craft-related work in her youth. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for, and doesn't give off the impression of being a frail waif. She tends to avoid particularly bright, flashy outfits, but does enjoy rather restrained uses of pastels and floral patterns.
Personality: Amodine is, to put it bluntly, a nerd. She's an enthusiastic and bubbly one, sure, but she seems like she'd be much more at home in a library or Harper Hall than up in the air with a dragon. While she herself feels a bit like she's very out of her depth now, she's at least good at putting on a brave face and soldiering through it. She loves spending her free time reading or participating in other similar (usually single-participant) activities, and tends to throw herself completely into her interests the moment she's able. Amodine is excellent at taking in as much information as is possible in a short amount of time, and this has the advantage of making her somewhat of a walking encyclopedia--the only downside is that the assorted facts and trivia she knows isn't always useful, and is very likely to center more around things she's found interesting than pertinent subjects. Botany is still near and dear to her heart, and she's got a bit of a nurturing streak that comes out when working with plants and leafy green things in general, not to mention with those younger than herself. Weyrlings and weyrbrats are her favorites, and she truly delights in helping them out with whatever they ask of her--to a reasonable extent, that is.
She's used to being somewhat of a wallflower, but since Impressing Alkaneth, she's found herself to be much better in social situations than she ever was previously. This can easily throw her off-guard when she realizes it, often startling her out of her comfort zone, but before that point, she can be every bit the junior weyrwoman that's expected of her. Amodine would love to grow into that role better and be more of a graceful swan than the awkward duckling she feels she is, but she's got a long way to go on that front, even with her dragon's more subtle forms of assistance. Unfortunately, she tends to be a bit reductive about herself, and although the self-deprecation has been largely dealt with now that Alkaneth is there to root it out, old habits do die hard. Although she tries her best to appear as a confident, collected Goldrider of High Reaches, Amodine is rather skittish at heart, and is usually no small degree of wound up about something or other. What exactly's gotten her in a knot is anyone's guess--she's not likely to go to others for help, partially out of fear of hearing exactly what she doesn't want to. It's not that she refuses to face the facts when it comes down to it--it's more out of a bad case of nerves than anything, and hearing her fears confirmed remains a scary prospect that she knows she needs to deal with. Amodine was comfortable staying in her shell, and being faced with big changes in her life or hard decisions spooks her more often than not; while she wouldn't trade Alkaneth for the world, she still can't help but wonder if her beautiful Gold may have been better off picking someone else. She knows that she Impressed for a reason, but she's a bit daunted by everything that lays before her now--it's a lot of responsibility and authority to handle, and she's worried she'll find some new and 'exciting' way to mess everything up in spite of her best efforts. On her better days, she thinks of herself as more of a work in process, and it's easier for her to stomach the thought of growing into her role.
At her best, she's charming, infectiously peppy, and fervently supportive--she's an intensely loving and vibrant person when you get past her walls, and she has no trouble sharing her love and excitement with others. It can be difficult for her to let herself be this version of herself, though, with all her concerns and anxieties chaining her down; in the meantime, Alkaneth has done well to lighten her up and inspire her toward being a bit more outgoing and sure of herself, although there's still work to be done yet. She truly adores life at the Weyr and all the people it's brought her into contact with, and while she's not an incredibly common sight in the middle of a throng of people, she's more than happy to chat with a much smaller group of people simply to learn more about them. She finds most everybody interesting, and is a great listener; it's no trouble to her at all, and as long as they're willing to tolerate her perhaps doing a bit of work during the conversation, she'll be delighted to talk for as long as possible. Large crowds in social situations are something of her enemy, by contrast, but she's trying to grow to be more comfortable with them. She's stubborn as anything, and once she's set herself on a goal, she'll keep pushing for it until she can see it through--while she's not one to steamroll others out of the way in the process, she certainly won't stop just because there's someone in her way. While she'll be as delicate as possible in the process of moving around them in order to keep going, she won't just drop her plans at the first sign of opposition, and will often fight all the harder just because there's pushback to work through. She's highly empathetic in her own right, although nowhere near as bad as Alkaneth, and while her empathy does well to motivate her, it also means that she tends to idealize the causes she's fighting for simply because she gets so impassioned by their appeals. To her credit, however, Amodine is far from gullible or naive--she knows when she's being taken advantage of, and will quickly grow to resent it. In this way, her and Alkaneth are perfectly matched; they have something of a tendency to share their grudges as well, although Amodine is perhaps less intense about it. The main issue is that she isn't the best at setting her boundaries, and will have a hard time making it clear that she's not okay with something until she's been pushed too far.
Positive Trait List Studious, hard-working, organized, high-energy. Negative Trait List Timid, slow to change, hard-headed, tense.
History: Amodine's story begins at Lemos, and she's still quite proud to call it her place of origin even though the Weyr has since become her home. Modius, a Journeyman Arborist, met Andionne, a soon-to-be Master Botanist, when they were both training, and had hit it off quite immediately--it wasn't long before they were wed and started a family together, first with Dimaine's arrival and then Amodine's. The couple ensured a loving, supportive environment for both of their daughters, and they were surrounded by nature both within the Hold itself and their parents' work. Although Dimaine quickly proved to be a headstrong, outspoken young girl, Amodine tended to hide behind her sibling when possible, her shyness apparent from a young age. She was far more inclined to stay out of the general spotlight than her older sister was, and tried to find her place elsewhere--after years of watching Andionne work and hearing stories of her craft, it seemed only natural to her that she follow in her mother's footsteps as she grew. Her interests aligned well with Andionne's craft, and having a master for a mother certainly ensured that she'd be able to pick up plenty of tricks of the trade before she went off to become a part of the Woodcrafthall herself; in contrast, Dimaine took after Modius, their father, and trained under his wing, although she was careful to keep a close eye on Amodine in case of trouble. The siblings got along quite well, with Dimaine often acting as Amodine's protector--although she had a relatively uneventful childhood, Amodine did tend to get made fun of by some of the local children, and Dimaine was quick to put a stop to that whenever possible. Aside from that unpleasant attention, Amodine seemed to do whatever she could to avoid being noticed, and tried her best to make her family proud all the same.
Things began changing when a Searchrider breezed by, searching for Candidates for the Weyr--Amodine was a young apprentice of 16 at the time, and when the rider asked her if she wanted to stand as a Candidate, she thought that it must have been a mistake. Dimaine was right there, after all. Surely her sister was the better option--but the Searchrider knew exactly who their dragon had pointed out, and assured her that they'd made the right choice. It was a honor to be searched, and with a little encouragement from her family, Amodine found herself on the way to High Reaches with the assurance that her life at Lemos would be waiting for her whenever she wanted to come back. She could always resume her training, but Candidacy was a much more time-sensitive offer--she told herself that it might be good for her, trying to drum up enough excitement to push her toward enthusiasm rather than attendance out of obligation. Unsurprisingly, Amodine was a model Candidate, afraid to step even an inch out of line--she wasn't prepared for people to actually befriend her in the process, and slowly began to let go of some of her trepidation regarding the whole affair. It looked as though she'd been right after all, and Candidacy was good for her; her budding excitement was dampened twice when she was left standing after two clutches, but her newfound friends among her class assured her that this was simply normal. It was exactly what the Candidatemaster had said, anyway--not all of them would Impress right away, and that was fine. It was nothing to worry about. Sure, she had to keep that mantra practically on a loop throughout her head, but it went a ways toward ensuring she wouldn't completely psych herself out. She wasn't incredibly hopeful about her chances, but was slowly coming around to the idea that that in and of itself was fine, too--if this didn't work out, she had her family and the pursuit of botany back home.
The next Hatching she stood for saw a Gold emerge on the Sands, and the little queen pushed botany right out of her mind. Why worry about all those plants when Her Alkaneth was right here? She was far more entertaining than weeds and leaves, after all! Amodine couldn't believe it. She'd Impressed--and more than that, she'd Impressed a Gold. The most perfect Gold ever to be shelled on all of Pern, at that; it felt like a dream, something far too good to be true. Alkaneth's love and reassurance hit her like a wave, and much of the hesitant, awkward jumble that had been Amodine before was washed away all at once. She wasn't just some apprentice from Lemos anymore; now, she was a Goldrider of High Reaches. Unfortunately, that also meant that she was a Goldrider. Of High Reaches. The responsibilities and duties that had been placed upon her were nervewracking in their scope, but Alkaneth assured her that they'd get through it just fine. Why wouldn't they? They were a perfect pair, even though they had a lot of growing to do. They'd be fine!
As if things couldn't get more stressful, Thread returned.
For a few brief weeks, Amodine was sick with anxiety. It was almost enough to make her want to leave the Weyr entirely, simply out of fear of confronting Thread head-on--but she couldn't, and she knew that. The thought of abandoning her duty and her Weyr was unthinkable, and she couldn't just...abandon everything she had here. Since she'd Impressed, High Reaches had become her home, and every dragon they had was needed for the fight. Now, her biggest challenge aside from Threadfall is growing into her rank and role in the Weyr. Amodine is almost desperate to finally come into her own as a junior weyrwoman, and she's trying to do whatever it takes to make it work.
Other: Her favorite color is lavender, she presses flowers in her spare time, and is genuinely terrified of the ocean. it's just so big and deep.
Name: Alkaneth Age: 3 Color: Gold Status: Single ;> Size: 100' Physical Description: Long and lanky, Alkaneth is somehow very well-proportioned all the same, and is very much a handsome Gold. Her wings are a bit narrow and have a more noticeable curve to their sails, making her quite maneuverable in the air despite her size. Personality: Relaxed, cavalier, and the exact opposite of tight-laced, Alkaneth is simply here to have a good time. She doesn't have much reservations about doing anything at all, as long as it's fun or enjoyable, and doesn't yet have a full grasp of her responsibilities as a Gold of High Reaches. She can be immature, capricious, and temperamental, but her hearts aren't black and rotten--she genuinely loves life and those around her, and her hedonistic tendencies spring from a desire to both experience life to the fullest and help others enjoy themselves as they deserve to. Truly, she doesn't think of herself as an incredibly important part of the Weyr's hierarchy, and hasn't yet come to realize that she matters to more than just Amodine--she has a difficult time thinking of the future and planning for things too far ahead of her, which can prove to be her downfall when it comes to being prepared. She's great at thinking on her feet, but working anything out in advance is certainly her weak spot. Alkaneth is a giving, warm-hearted dragon who's highly sociable and friendly, and has a tendency to take others under her wings in order to show them whatever constitutes as a good time. Sure, whether or not she's having fun is important to her, but it hardly means anything if she's the only one doing so! If there's anything she can do to help, she absolutely wants to know--unfortunately, this does mean that she can pry or be too nosy, simply because she has a hard time accepting that others might not actually want her help. Alkaneth is a bleeding heart through and through, and is incredibly sympathetic to others; she's only recently coming to realize that she needs to have some degree of restraint with her generosity. Amodine is usually the one to try and rein her in, and Alkaneth is usually begrudgingly compliant. The best way to get on her bad side is to lie to her, especially about needing her assistance, and Alkaneth is not one to forgive and forget. While she's more than happy to let most things go in favor of living in the present, bad blood is something she'll carry with her for Turns at a time, and it's incredibly difficult to earn your way back into her favor once she feels she's been slighted.
Name: A'ide Age: 20. Nameday: 3556.02.05 Sex: Nonbinary demiboy. Sexual Orientation: It Is A Mystery. Status: Single Craft: Harper. Rank: Apprentice. Location: High Reaches. Physical Description: Alisaide is--not particularly exceptional, really, and they don't have much of an issue with that. They're not especially tall, standing at little more than 5'7", and their build isn't especially muscular or otherwise; in fact, they're somewhat more lean than anything, with almost gangly limbs that they haven't quite grown into just yet. Having been assigned female at birth, they have the slightest hint of curves about them, but nothing seems to have ever come of that venture, which they're more than glad of. Their hair is a disheveled auburn mess, loosely wavy and never kept in any kind of style, and it frequently gets in the way of their eyes if they don't do something to pin it back. They wear simple wire-framed glasses that appear to have been broken a few times, although it's nothing a little careful (and admittedly makeshift) repairs couldn't handle. Their features are delicate, covered with a gentle sprinkling of freckles, and oddly enough, it looks as though their nose has been broken once or twice. Their eyes are a deep golden-brown, usually wide with some form of wonder, and are rather doe-like.
They don't have a lot of preferences about their clothing, instead going with whatever they grab first that day; as a result, their outfits tend to be a rather...interesting mix of garments, most of which seem to have been pulled from other ensembles that they've put together over the years. The only hard rule Alisaide has about their clothes is that they're relatively form-fitting, done to keep any loose bits of fabric out of the way. Their hair is already enough of a problem--they don't need anything else messing them up. Personality: Excitable and enthusiastic, Alisaide is fueled by a constant energy to explore the world around them, wanting nothing more than to know. Cataloguing Pern's knowledge and its stories is their first love, and they consider the information they've gathered to be some of the most precious things in the world. They're intensely dedicated to the preservation of history and all that entails, and are exceptionally eager in the pursuit of anything that has to do with any of their interests--particularly when it comes to recording stories. They're a very by-the-books kind of nerd, however, and while their enthusiasm may sometimes preclude them from following what they know to be widely-accepted social norms, they're quick to apologize and adjust their tactics accordingly, even if first impressions are usually long since ruined by the time they recognize it.
They're helpful to a fault, and address anything and everything with the same level of honest joy, simply glad to get the opportunity to experience things around them. While they can get caught up in a book far too easily and have been known to completely zone out in favor of focusing on what they're working on, they're remarkably eager to share their findings with anyone willing to listen, and show the makings of an excellent teacher--provided they can mellow out a bit, that is. They're a chatty, sociable sort, and will gladly talk your ear off if given even the slightest opportunity. Everyone is their friend, as far as they're concerned, and they have a hard time imagining otherwise. They're all in this together, after all--why not get along?
Although there's certainly plenty of ill in the world, Alisaide does their best to ignore it in favor of the positives. If they focus on the good, surely they can find it in everything, right? They do everything possible to find something positive in what they experience, even if it's genuinely horrible--maybe they reframe it as a learning experience, or as a reason to work on something else about themself. Sometimes these connections are weak or tenuous at best, but they cling hard to the idea, not wanting to consider the possibility that maybe things are just completely awful sometimes. That hardly aligns with their idealistic idea of Pern and the people in it, and Alisaide isn't about to shake up their entire worldview.
They're plenty nervous when they actually get the chance to think about what they're doing, and the best way to ensure they won't get cold feet is for them to not think about things at all. Sure, being so completely willing to go all in on something without a moment's forethought is a terrible idea, but it hasn't led them too terribly wrong yet! Their naivete, along with their burning sense of optimism, dictates that surely nothing bad will happen. Right? Right! In the face of genuine danger, however, Alisaide is rather ashamed of how cowardly they are, and although they're quite fast when they need to be, they'll kick themself about failing to show their bravery for weeks. They have lofty ideas of who they want to be and what their place in the world may be, and despite their best efforts, they tend to dream far bigger than is realistic, which often leads to a harsh letdown when these notions are proven wrong.
Positive Trait List Persistent, eager, compassionate, optimistic. Negative Trait List Naive, impulsive, overly anxious, cowardly. History: A native of Tillek Hold, Alisaide is a relatively recent addition to the Weyr, and still has yet to discover their own place within it. Their family was an eccentric mix of fishercrafters and harpers, and they were the middle child of a rather large (and rowdy) family of nine, each of which began chasing their dreams quite early on due to their mother's encouragement. Their father was a shipbuilder, and both of Alisaide's older brothers took after him--they opted instead to follow in their mother's footsteps, seeking to become a harper like her. More than that, however, they wanted to become an archivist; learning as much as they could about Pern was such a tantalizing thought, and being able to be that close to history sealed the deal for them. Unsurprisingly, they became completely infatuated with the idea, and as soon as they were able to, they took up an apprenticeship, learning under their family's supervision and careful tutelage.
Life in Tillek brought with it all manner of wonders, and at times, they would sit with their father and his crew, recording their stories as practice for when their dream came true. As a result, they became a familiar face in the shipyards, often flanked by an ever-rotating handful of their other siblings who ventured down to the docks to visit; Alisaide would pester anyone willing to give them the time of day for any snippet of personal history or any exceptional tale they knew, always jotting them down before they'd ever have the chance to forget them.
Things went a little differently one day, however. They'd gotten slightly separated from their cadre of siblings, having stopped to question a dragonrider--how could they have let that opportunity slip them by? How many times would they see a rider come by, after all? Alisaide jumped on them the moment they spotted them, and they weren't taking no for an answer. They were only twelve, and from then on, they were enamored with the very concept of dragonriders. Hearing and reading about them was one thing, but to have the chance to meet one up close and personal and learn about them, their dragon, and their way of life--it was everything they could have asked for and more, and Alisaide would often be caught pretending to be a rider when they thought they were alone.
Turns passed. Their dreams of dragons didn't die out, but were simply placed on a slightly higher shelf, just out of reach enough to help them focus on their harper training. Thread returned, and Telgar was almost destroyed, leaving so many dead and a new tremble of anxiety in their daily life. How long would it be before they saw those silver strands fall on Tillek as badly as they had on Telgar? It went without saying that they were worried--beyond that, even, but they could do little aside from practice, write, practice, write, practice. They excelled in their studies, but didn't really get along too terribly well with other children their age, even though their siblings were nigh feral in their defense--they didn't mind too much, however. They had plenty of other things to focus on, and getting into a fight because somebody tried to take one of their notebooks wasn't going to ruin their day, even if it had ruined their nose. Again.
When they were nineteen, they were Searched, having just about cornered another dragonrider to glean any interesting information out of them. Alisaide hadn't expected the Blue to get so close, and had almost thought that they'd crossed some unspoken boundary or pissed off the wrong person--but when they were invited to become a candidate at High Reaches, their old dreams flared back to life all at once.
Being a harper was cool, of course--the chance to be a dragonrider, however, was so much more.
Other: Usually has some kind of pocket journal on hand, and will write down as many observations and notes about what's going on as fast as possible. They're surprisingly quick, and while their shorthand is absolutely incomprehensible to most everyone else, it ensures they keep everything they need to know tightly condensed to ensure they can reabsorb as much of it as possible in the least amount of time.
Their pronouns are they/him, and aren't terribly fussed about which one gets used. So long as you're talking to them, it's okay! They're just happy to meet you.
Name: Elpisath Age: BABY Color: Blue Status: Unavailable. Size: 48'
Origin of Name: Elpisath, from Elpis, the Greek goddess of hope. Hope was the only thing left in Pandora's jar, once all the ails of mankind had escaped. In the Imperial cult of the Virtues, hope was thought along with salvation, prosperity, and victory, to be a gift of the gods.
Inspiration: Hope
Hope is one of the three theological virtues in Christian tradition. Hope being a combination of the desire for something and expectation of receiving it, the virtue is hoping for Divine union and so eternal happiness. While faith is a function of the intellect, hope is an act of the will.
Personality: A good and noble child, Elpisath is a dragon that one can depend upon. If he is a bit on the soft side, that cannot be helped. Perhaps a trifle too trusting, it is not so much that Elpisath doesn't know any better, but that he hopes for the good in everyone. He wants to believe, and does his best to model the best traits he knows. That way, to his thinking, someone else's dreams might also come true. Yet he is a shy dragon who finds it difficult to put himself out there. There's such a big world waiting for him, and although he finds it overwhelming, he's trying very hard to be worthy of it.
Daunted by the task ahead of him, and yet unwilling to give up, Elpisath is exceedingly likely to push himself beyond his limits. It is his desire to bring about the most good for the most people that will put him in harm's way; for Elpisath values others more than he does himself. He is a tender soul who will give unconditionally. Inclined to falling in love with the wrong sorts, for he surely desires to help them grow beyond their own failings, this dragon will likely cause himself and his rider no end of trouble. Yet it will all be done in the name of good.
Eager to prove himself, yet desperately afraid to fall short of expectations, this sweet blue will struggle to stand out from the rest of the pack. It is not that he is incapable. Rather, Elpisath would prefer so much to help others shine. He longs for nothing more than to make his dear siblings and rider happy. They are so dear to him that he cannot conceal his tender hearts, and will stop at nothing to do right by them. High Reaches is a Weyr where a little blue will not likely find himself in the spotlight, and yet there are few blues indeed who are as dutiful and kind as Elipsath.
He would give up his own wallow to help another, and will be especially indulgent of the sick and the needy. A friend in need is a friend indeed, after all, and this boy will surely be that friend. When times are at their darkest, Elpisath can be counted upon to bring light to a situation - whether by taking the best of care of his fellows, or saying a kind word, he will be there when he is needed. If another could not tolerate his company it would devastate him, but he would accept his fate. He knows that he can be overly clingy, and though he cannot help it, he can and will cut himself off if he must.
His emotions are felt keenly, though Elpisath has a lot more bounce back capability than one might expect. Enduring hardships is second nature to him, and though he cannot be said to be particularly wise, he always tries his best. If he is perhaps a bit foolish, that cannot be helped. Deep down, he knows that he is only a blue... and is quite aware that he does not measure up to the larger colors of the Weyr. At least, not in High Reaches' eyes. It will be up to his rider to reassure him that he is just as worthy as anyone of admiration and love, for he is excessively humble and self-effacing.
Adult Size: 48' Physical Attributes: Though not quite the tiniest of blues, Elpisath comes very close. He is a dainty creature who is not remotely aware of his own beauty.
Additional Notes: Exceptionally bonded to the rest of his clutch, this boy will be keenly attentive to his siblings. It might take him awhile to find the right romantic partner, as he has a terrible predilection for bad boys. Yes, boys. Though it's possible that he could fall in love with a lady, he has a strong preference for larger blues, browns, and bronzes. Small and fast, Elpisath will not have much endurance at all, except in his emotional capacity.
Impression Effect: What Alisaide has going for them is a certain innocent look that many will find unconsciously appealing. When it comes to this rider and dragon pair, that will likely be on an emotional level. Those who speak with Alisaide will find themselves naturally trusting what they have to say. If they are a bit tactless, it will surely be easy to forgive, for their goodness and amiability will shine through as it always should have done.
Dear Alisaide, from the very first moment you arrived, Elpisath knew deep down you and he were meant to be. They are such a genuinely good person, with their perpetual optimism and sheer joy in the world around them. In seeing the world through Alisaide's eyes, Elpisath has found so much in the way of curiosity and wonder, things which he never before experienced in quite the same way. Elpisath's deeply caring nature will naturally bolster Alisaide, whose anxiety will melt away in the face of his dragon's love and devotion. If there ever was a dragon capable of imagining all of the things that Alisaide can do with their future, that dragon is Elpisath. Alisaide is innately amiable, and their outgoing nature will help pull Elpisath out of his shell.
Name: Kedriom Age: 18 Nameday: 3558.02.24 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Asexual Status: Single Craft: N/A Rank: Candidate Location: High Reaches Physical Description: When compared to the more robust majority of dragonriding folk, Kedriom looks somewhat out of place, tall, sharp, and spindly as he is. He stands at about 6'3", but seems a bit taller than that due to the strictly upright way he carries himself, unbent and rigid seemingly at all times. If anything, he was built more for agility and speed than strength, and it certainly shows--he's not exceptional in the realm of endurance, but he's able to keep up quite well, provided things don't drag on too long. He's pale and burns rather easily in the sun, which leads to him doing whatever he can to cover as much of himself as possible for any outdoor adventures. His hair is dark brown and kept short, although it's almost always spiky and disheveled--overall, he has the appearance of somebody who really hasn't slept much for a good long while, with dark bags under his surprisingly keen green eyes. He has an intensity about him, with equally sharp features and a stare that always seems like it's going through you; all this, coupled with his generally awkward personality, hasn't made him terribly popular in many social circles. He doesn't usually put a lot of effort into his appearance, sometimes to the point of appearing rather untidy--however, the worst thing that can be said about him is that his clothes are usually varying shades of wrinkly. He's incredibly particular about his personal cleanliness, but something so simple as a few wrinkles hardly makes it onto his radar.
Personality: Often found rambling about obscure facts or jittering with nervous energy, Kedriom is a highly-strung young man who seems to be having a hard time finding his proper niche. The return of Thread has certainly put a lot of stress on him at a rather young age, given his family's history as dragonriders and the loss of a few family members, and the Enemy is usually weighing on his mind in some way or another despite his best efforts. He's talkative and energetic, although perhaps a bit frenzied in nature, and possesses an almost single-minded kind of enthusiasm that sometimes actively precludes him from focusing on anything other than what he decides is the most important thing right now. His tendency to fixate on specific topics means that he absorbs vast amounts of information about his interests all at once, but he doesn't always stay focused on those topics for very long. He doesn't respond well to sudden changes, and utterly hates having to stop what he's doing abruptly, particularly when he's close to being done anyway. As a result, he tends to stay out of the general public eye in order to avoid interruptions, although he shows up to all his lessons without fail; as far as academics go, Kedriom truly excels, with a sharp mind and even sharper intuition powering him through candidate training like it was nothing. The main problem he has, however, is his fixations, which can be nigh impossible to tear him away from even if they're pointing him straight toward all kinds of unhappy endings. He has trouble seeing the forest for the trees, and tends to focus far too much on the close details to zoom out and get a look at the grander picture. Making sure every little part is just right is very important to him, and he tends to fall back on nitpicking all manner of things to reassure himself when his nerves at their limits.
He's dedicated to tradition, both for its connection to his family and the weyr in which he lives. Without the dragonriding tenets that High Reaches has adhered to for so long, Pern would have been completely unprepared for the return of Thread; that alone is enough to convince him that it has its place, but the fact that it's always had such a strong pull on his life didn't hurt, either. Kedriom dreams of a life in the skies, taking up the historic mantle of riders like his family had for turns upon turns--it's all he lives for, and although he knows he's got a backup plan just in case, the thought of failing at his dream is almost too much for him. He throws himself into everything dragon-related he can, seeking to know as much as possible in order to prepare himself for every possibility--if he's got everything under control, certainly it'll go well, right? This line of thought tends to be what dominates his tactics and interactions with others, and if things don't go how he hopes, he'll likely throw himself into his work and studies as deeply as possible in order to give himself a buffer between himself and his emotions. His interest in dragons is largely academic, although sometimes bordering on obsessive; he's mostly concerned with statistics and trivia, as well as hard information to provide a strong backbone to build his knowledge base on. While this has certainly brought him into contact with all manner of information, not all of it is necessarily worthwhile, and he has problems letting go of ideas just in case they might wind up being the key to the puzzle later on. He prepares too much and too often, and can seem a bit paranoid, to say the least. He's on-edge more often than not, but what precisely has him so terribly wound up is not something he'll easily say, but it isn't terribly hard to figure out when you actually get to know him. Above all else, Kedriom fears rejection--to be left standing on the Sands until he's aged out, to fail his family and his Weyr in this most important way, and to be unable to fulfill what he earnestly hopes is his purpose. His ultimate nightmare is to be deemed less than useful to his home, and that fear is what drives him in search of both control and getting as close to perfection as he can manage. He truly loves High Reaches and its people, and would readily die for it--although his parents weren't around very much, being rather busy with their rider duties, their influence and the support of the creche instilled a love for the weyr and what it represented in him at a young age. He can't imagine his life without being where he is, and he intends to do whatever he can to support the weyr in return.
History: The youngest son of a pair of dragonriders, Kedriom has always adored dragons. It's in his blood--his mother and father rode Green and Brown respectively, and he grew up surrounded by the great beasts, being raised with a combination of creche parenting and his own parents doing their part when possible. The boy was obsessed with his parents' dragons, not to mention any other dragon that would hold still long enough for him to look at and ask questions of; gradually, this interest began to grow from a place of childhood enthusiasm to a genuine desire for more knowledge. It wasn't long before he began to realize that this could help him quite a bit during his eventual Candidacy, not to mention if he managed to Impress--he became a regular sight, talking to riders, dragonhealers, and anybody else who could give him the info he so earnestly wanted. If becoming a rider didn't work out for him, he reasoned that he could try and train as a dragonhealer instead, and with this backup plan in mind to reassure him, he allowed his enthusiasm about Candidacy turned into ecstatic dreaming.
His brother, Rekidem, became a Candidate first, however; he was the older of the two, after all, and Kedriom watched his sibling take to the Sands with unabashed joy. This was his first opportunity to see what Hatchings were like with a personal stake involved--his big brother was out there, and he couldn't wait to see what happened. It wasn't long before Rekidem found his lifemate--a beautiful young Brown, at that--and that was all Kedriom needed to know that he had to be out there himself. Watching his brother Impress showed him a fraction of the beauty of it; Impression had always defied description, and now he felt he understood why more than ever. His dreams of his own dragon were inching closer month by month, and he couldn't wait to take his own chance. A turn after Rekidem Impressed, however, Thread returned.
Since that first Threadfall, Kedriom's dreamy excitement has shifted and twisted, becoming something different. The sheer enchantment he feels toward dragons is still there, of course, but it now bore the weight of urgency upon its shoulders--Pern needed dragonriders to fight Thread once more, and he couldn't sit idly by and do nothing. He turned all his knowledge toward being as useful as he could be to the Weyr in his spare time, although Candidate lessons and training still took up the majority of his time as they very well should; he'd always had a knack for research, and he found some use running errands in his spare time. Even then, he never felt as though it was enough, and the sense of futility that began to creep in on him wore away at him. When R'karo, his father, was killed in an unfortunately heavy burst of Threadfall, Kedriom became desperate. He had to succeed somewhere--either by Impression or finding another way to serve his Weyr. He was the only member of his family left on the ground, with his mother and brother fighting Thread high above him, he wanted nothing more than to find his place and contribute. He remains an ardent, if high-strung, Candidate, and is determined to do whatever he can to honor his position.
Other: He's truly excellent at sleight of hand tricks, and taught himself how to juggle in an effort to give his hands something to do when he gets nervous. Tends to drum his fingers on things when he's distracted.
Name: Vaniwrynn, formerly V'rynn. Age: 56. Nameday: 3519.04.15 Sex: Male. Sexual Orientation: Homosexual. Status: Single Craft: Dragonhealer. Rank: Master. Location: High Reaches. Physical Description: Well-built and sturdy, Vaniwrynn stands at 6'1" and is as physically resilient as a Bronze wher. He hardly seems like the kind of man to be in charge of detail work at first glance, but even with his muscle, he moves with a careful kind of grace, every motion well thought out and carrying all the weight of his intent. He has straight black hair most often tucked back into a ponytail, liberally streaked with premature gray and white around his temples that serves as a clear indicator of the stress he's endured. He's handsome, with features that look just a little unearthly, and his almond-shaped eyes are a cold gray--but he never quite seems to look at you, instead focusing on something beyond what's in front of him. He keeps himself at a distance in everything he does, and it's clearly evident in his mannerisms. His threadscore scars are still just as prominent as the day they first healed, and they form a tangled mass of horrifyingly deep gouges around his throat, across his chest, and wrapping around over his shoulder to his back, as well as branching down his hip. There's some on his legs as well, although they're significantly less prominent; it's truly a wonder that he doesn't have a limp, though. It looks as if the clump of thread caught him in the shoulder and melted down his body on both sides, and he's certain it would have been much worse if he wasn't wearing his riding leathers. At times, he wishes it would've been worse. Personality: Vaniwrynn is, above all else, polite and neat, with a truly stunning attention to detail and a soft, if not somewhat sad, bedside manner that carries over into the rest of his daily life. He's a veritable glacier, remaining cool and unflappable in just about any situation--and all the while, he maintains that clinical exterior, freezing out others who try to get too close. It's for their own good, after all--he knows what he's like now, and he wouldn't wish that knowledge on anyone else. Outwardly, at least, Vaniwrynn is a stalwart, gentle man, focusing completely on what he can do for others, even at great cost to himself. He places only the most token value on his own wellbeing, only putting as much effort into himself as is needed to ensure he can work as well as is possible. As for everyone else, however, there truly is no limit to how far he'll go; if there's anything at all he can do to see them through to the best possible outcome, he hardly hesitates, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the effort. He's no stranger to biding his time, and once he knows the best way to handle anything, be it a patient or a personal decision, he'll act without doubting himself, even though it can take quite some time to reach that conclusion. He's very much a man of his word, and doesn't take promises lightly--when he says he'll do something, he very much means it, and expects others to keep to their word just as strongly. Vaniwrynn is reliable to an extreme, and sees no issue with fulfilling even the most stringent of requests; he agreed to do so, after all, and so he will. He's a hard worker, to the point of barely having a life outside of his craft, but he's well acquainted with hiding the less pleasant consequences of his work ethic. Vaniwrynn knows what he's doing, and leaves little room for uncertainty both in his work and how he conducts himself.
Internally, however, is something of a different story. Since Asiloth's death, Vaniwrynn has lost--everything, really. He's far from willing to let anyone else learn just how bad it all is, instead throwing all of his time and effort into working for the sake of others, both to give himself something to live for and to occupy his time enough to where maybe people just won't have the opportunity to approach him in any kind of social sense. Vaniwrynn finds it nigh impossible to truly connect to people anymore, and he doesn't see much point in trying, either. He's fine with professional interactions, or anything where he can rely on a carefully composed script to see him through, but when taken by surprise, he's quick to scramble for an exit. Very little inspires him anymore, and he hates that he's grown so set in his ways that he can't bring himself to enjoy anything. He's effectively established a narrow existence for himself that consists almost entirely of working--without what he can do for others, he's nothing, as far as he's concerned. Unfortunately, this provides very little room for anything new, and he's grown to dread the idea of any changes in his routine. Change is not something he's particularly fond of, and he'll resist it until there's no other option but to give in. Ideally, however, he'd be so far distanced from everyone that these upsets wouldn't even matter.
[ tw for suicidal ideation and dragon death y'all ]
Vaniwrynn was the youngest son of a Gold and Bronzerider pair, preceded into the creche by his older brother by a single Turn. He was a calm child, albeit one with a predisposition to pranks, and got along swimmingly with his brother--the two were nigh inseparable, and made a name for themselves as generally upstanding kids. Sure, the eldest would sometimes have to cook up a quick cover story or otherwise fish Vaniwrynn out of trouble as a result of one of his jokes, but they did everything possible to fit in with the rest of Weyr life. When his brother's first Hatching came and went without him Impressing, Vaniwrynn vowed to stand with him regardless of what happened. He'd get his chance soon enough, and jumped at the opportunity without a second thought--both of them were lucky, without a doubt, that this Hatching would prove to be in their favor. His brother Impressed first, with Vaniwrynn barely standing alone for ten minutes before a svelte Blue hatchling would come up to claim him as His. Just like that, Asiloth's presence changed everything. V'rynn's purpose was so clearly set out before him, and he had a dragon at his side who was more than eager to chase their destiny.
Weyrling training could have been easier, but V'rynn and Asiloth made it through to the other side, graduating proudly with the rest of their class. V'rynn began to kindle an interest in the art of dragonhealing, spurred by his desire to take the best possible care of Asiloth that he could--being able to help others with his knowledge sealed the deal, and he began to study in his free time, devoting as much as he could to becoming a full-fledged master. After much training and even more work, V'rynn walked the tables, repurposing his former study time into traveling to aid others where he was needed. He always returned to the Weyr, of course, but he couldn't stomach the idea of simply limiting his services to one area when they could be so desperately needed elsewhere. Long-distance calls were few and far between, and he preferred staying close to High Reaches when possible. When Thread returned, he was needed more than ever, although he had to restrict his work to just the Weyr. As much as he hated the idea of leaving others to fend for themselves, the Weyr needed him, and he couldn't deny it.
Fortunately, their training put them at somewhat of an advantage against Thread--they were prepared, at least enough to fight capably. They did their best, to be sure, but their best wasn't enough. The wind changed at the wrong time, sending a massive clump of thread their way from a direction they weren't expecting--it caught V'rynn on the shoulder first, just barely missing his head, and the rest of it draped down across Asiloth like a blanket, tangling in his wings and limbs and eating away at everything. They went between as fast as possible. It wasn't good enough to kill the clump they were wrapped up in with how deep it had buried into them both, and they crashed into the Bowl, sinking, sinking--V'rynn doesn't remember much more than the pain, the sound of Asiloth screaming, and the rush of water as they broke the surface. Whoever fished them out is a mystery to him.
Both of them survived, although just barely. V'rynn remained drugged into slumber, and Asiloth had to undergo all manner of medical treatments to try and save him. It almost looked as though the pair just might pull through, albeit permanently grounded, given Asiloth's injuries--but the problem lay deeper than that. Asiloth had needed plenty of ichor transfusions, and one of them hadn't gone quite right. An infection had set in, spreading throughout his bloodstream far faster than the healers could have thought; he held on for as long as possible, hoping that V'rynn might wake up just one more time, but in the end, he finally succumbed after two weeks, going between while V'rynn stayed unconscious. He woke up then, but was quickly drugged back into oblivion. Another week later, he awakened on his own, feeling for the first time the gaping hole left by his other half. And just like that, Asiloth's absence changed everything.
He was Vaniwrynn again, with all the horrible connotations that brought. He was a shell of a man, and everyone knew it; he could see the pity in their eyes, and it made his stomach turn. But his knowledge was too precious now, with Thread raining down on them--while his heart had been ripped from his chest in a way that would never heal, dragonhealers were needed now more than ever. To let himself slip under with a cup of felis would consign so many more to death without more hands and more expertise to care for them when they needed it most, and the thought of another rider being left without their other half because of that decision was--utterly unconscionable. Revolting. Certainly, no one would blame him, but he himself would. Against expectations, he carried on. Although that final request was at the tip of his tongue all too often, Vaniwrynn pushed past it with all the force he could muster, lackluster though it may be. He had to--for Asiloth. For the good of the Weyr. It took another month before he could bring himself to treat another dragon; he still slipped up and called them Asiloth. From there, it was weeks until he tried again, and he had to push himself all the while. He did everything he could to push it all out of his mind and focus on his craft, but it never left him no matter how hard he tried. This was too deep a loss to simply numb over time, and Vaniwrynn knew that all too well.
While he's returned to some sense of normalcy now, it's not the same. He knows it will never be the same. He has to keep working, though--High Reaches needs him, and the weyr is all he has left.
Name: A'yral Age: 28. Nameday: 3548.06.14 Sex: Transman. Sexual Orientation: Gay. Status: Single Weyr: Western Weyr. Rider Rank: Wingrider. Previous Rank/Craft: Holdbrat. Physical Description: Tall, gangly, pale, and with all the physical presence of a handful of twigs, A'yral seems to have more in common with a slightly decrepit scarecrow than most people. He stands at roughly 6'2" by sheer luck that he sees as more of a curse than a blessing, and is practically skin and bones; he tends to hunch over or otherwise slouch when out and about, seemingly trying to reduce his physical presence as much as possible. His hair goes a bit past shoulder-length and is a largely unkempt sheet of dark brown that obscures most of his features, already speckled with some gray streaks here and there; it's used to hide his face, coupled with carefully-placed scarves when needed. What's under there, you might ask?
Scars. A lot of scars.
A'yral bears substantial damage from threadscore over a good half of his face, having looked up at just the wrong moment during his first Threadfall--his left eye is blank and white, and some of his teeth are permanently exposed due to the deep rends that gouge down his cheeks and onto his neck. Beyond that, there's a few long, trailing scores slipping over his collarbone and across his chest, looking almost like they were simply poured down his body. The one eye that still works at all is a sharp, almost feverishly bright gray, set deep within a darkly-ringed socket and nigh constantly flicking from one area of focus to the next. Those who've gotten close enough to discern his features under all of that would often describe them as thin and long, with a peculiar upward tilt to his brows that makes him look constantly worried or on edge. There's a faint dusting of freckles across his skin where the threadscore hasn't destroyed it, but considering how prone he is to sunburns, it's more common to find them obscured by swathes of red.
He prefers to wear utilitarian clothes in dull earth-tones, specifically chosen both to be as useful as possible and to attract little attention. They're usually at least a little baggy to better obscure his figure, considering how thin he is; the only common exception to this comes in regards to his hands, which are almost always exposed unless he's in his riding gear. He's got long bony fingers that are surprisingly quick, and he finds that covering them often just makes it harder for him to make use of his innate dexterity. Curiously enough, he's got plenty of scars across his knuckles, as though he's been in plenty of fights in his relatively short time on Pern--but with how skittish A'yral is, that can't be right, can it?
Personality: A'yral is a quiet sort, one who prefers to stick as far out of the limelight as is possible and simply carry on his duties outside of the center of attention. He's extremely focused on his tasks, enough to the point where sometimes he lapses in taking proper care of himself; these slips are often remedied by Venjeth's brusque chiding, but he's been known to go for a week at a time without listening before his dragon all but forces him to stay with him and rest. A'yral is remarkably keen-witted, and when he's comfortable enough to operate without the majority of his ever-present anxiety trying to rear its ugly head, he's an excellent problem solver, not to mention almost unshakably dedicated to his work. He can very accurately be described as a workaholic, insisting on finishing everything he needs to do before he lets himself relax; this is also a way he can avoid interacting with a large number of people, instead limiting his exposure to only a small handful that he's at least worked with before. While he's nervous and on-edge around most people, once he's managed to get comfortable around you, A'yral is a stalwart, supportive friend who won't let you down. He's available at just about all hours of the night, considering the how little he sleeps in general, and has no issues with being summoned to lend a hand with anything, no matter how small. At his best, he's almost ridiculously patient, considerate, empathetic, and strongly focused on making sure the people close to him are both safe and happy. He has problems with putting himself way too far down on his own priority list, and will readily sacrifice his own wellbeing in order to ensure that others won't have to suffer even the slightest inconvenience. As a Dragonrider, A'yral thinks that part of his duty is to ensure this kind of security for others, and adheres to this aspect of his role very stringently. What he can do for others is of the utmost concern to him, and he has little concern for his own suffering when someone else is on the line.
He's very much concerned about being a problem--his low self-esteem means that he often thinks of himself as a burden despite Venjeth's insistence otherwise, and he's quick to blame himself for any kind of issues that arise. He's absolutely terrified of any consequences for his perceived faults, and will do whatever he can to try and solve the problem before it becomes noticeable; sometimes, this has quite the opposite effect, resulting in him making an issue out of something that wasn't even one at all. A'yral has a tendency to drastically overthink just about everything, checking and rechecking and rechecking again before he takes that first step--as a result, when he's thinking on his own and not within the framework provided by a set list of tasks, he can be very slow to start, and is sometimes frustrating to work with. He's not good at taking initiative for his own sake, which is where Venjeth comes in most of the time; however, if he's to act in someone else's defense, he's often moving before he's thought about it, personal consequences be damned. When stressed, A'yral can be...an issue. Rather than outright showing his displeasure, disapproval, or any other negative emotion, he resorts to something a little more underhanded--and more importantly, deniable in the event of any genuine trouble. He digs his heels in and sticks to his own ways, and gets remarkably passive-aggressive when confronted about just about anything, regardless what it may be. He's quick to get defensive, although never in the public eye; in private where he's comfortable enough to not walk on eggshells all the time, however, he's been known to vent his frustrations to the point of tears. A'yral truly hates being brought to such an emotionally vulnerable point, and will do everything he can to try and bottle up his feelings until he literally can't anymore. Despite being so ready to offer his own support to everyone else, it's very hard for him to accept the offer of a shoulder to lean on, in part because he doesn't think he's worth the trouble. Aside from the matter of his own self-worth, A'yral doesn't want to trouble anyone else with his problems, and also simply wants to hide how much of an emotional wreck he is whenever possible.
Since Impressing, A'yral has actually gotten better, though. While he's still far from being in a completely healthy state of mind, he's come a long way from the mess he was when he first stood on the Sands, and he's doing what he can when he can to try and continue that progress. Being injured knocked him back plenty of steps, particularly considering the fact that he's now almost paranoid about what's just out of his range of vision, but he's doing his best to become more comfortable with himself and everything around him all the same. A'yral wholeheartedly wants to stop being so stressed and worried about everything, and Venjeth certainly wants His to be happier, but accepting the fact that he's worthy of this kind of progress in the first place is the hardest part for him. He knows that he should take better care of himself, as well as understanding that it's okay to accept the help he's offered; even then, his earlier life has made it difficult for him to come to terms with it in practice rather than as just a theoretical idea. Opening up to others is a terrifying unknown that he's not sure he's ready to face, and A'yral still can't bring himself to trouble people with his presence in such matters.
Positive Trait List Dedicated, kind, gentle, resourceful, perceptive, quick-thinking, supportive, protective, empathetic. Negative Trait ListAnxious, self-conscious, fearful, low sense of self worth, skeptical, stubborn, passive-aggressive, high-strung. History: [preemptive tw for mild transphobia/fairly strained familial relations in here]
Amyral was a quiet, attentive youth, born the child of a courtesan in training at Rivercrest and a wandering outlaw, slipping into the Hold to take of its bounty as he saw fit. His father was a charming, smooth-talking thief, and his mother fell for him far too quickly; by the time Amyral was born months later, she'd been left alone, her flame vanished into the night on some pirate's ship that came to port. His mother was forced to find drastically different work in order to support her burgeoning family, and became a rather skilled cook instead. Shortly after Amyral turned one, she found a much more steady husband from Western Hold to replace the man that fled, and she moved there to rebuild her life anew. For a time, they survived. It was what they did best, after all, not to mention the only option. The first few rocks fell into place when Amyral began to feel...different about himself, the uncertainty setting in at a relatively young age. He was not the delicate daughter his father seemed to think of him as, and despite his best efforts to prove him wrong, Amyral never could seem to get that through to him. As he got older and his father expected drastically dissonant things of him, tensions rose, with Amyral frequently clashing with the man--which invariably brought his mother into the mix as well. Confused about what Amyral meant, but with good intentions all the same, she did what she could to mediate these arguments, although she often had so little to say that she might as well have not even tried at all.
One fight led to another, and another, each rising in intensity until he was far more often found outside of his home than he was in it. Amyral struggled with the thought that his family didn't accept him for who he truly was, but rather kept clinging to the idea of who they thought he should be regardless of his own identity. Things came to a head when he was sixteen, at which point Amyral prepared to leave his mother's home, uncertain of where he'd go, but absolutely refusing to stay where he was to live in fear of his father for the rest of his life. He knew who he was, and he knew he simply couldn't exist as the stranger his family wanted him to be. It came as no small blessing that he was Searched the next day, scooped up early in the morning with little fanfare by a keen-eyed Green and her still somewhat groggy rider. Amyral did not inform his family, leaving much of his belongings behind in the process; they were little more than dead weight to him now, and any sentimental attachments he'd had were long since severed.
By the end of the Hatching, there were only a few eggs left, including a few smaller, somewhat sickly ones that required outside help to hatch properly. Amyral had braced himself for disappointment, prepared for what he thought would be the inevitable conclusion: he'd walk off the Sands alone, and he'd have to find his own way in the world from there. A Brown passed him by and Impressed, followed by a Blue--and then the first White to escape its shell made itself known with as loud of a bugle as its tiny lungs could manage, and his entire world changed in a heartbeat. A'yral doesn't think of himself as the same person as he was before he Impressed. As far as he's concerned, Amyrral died on the Sands the moment that connection was made, the moment Venjeth announced that he was here, and that no one would ever get the opportunity to hurt him again. His A'yral, his, would always, always, always have his Venjeth by his side, and his Venjeth knew who he was more than anyone else could.
With Venjeth's fervent support, A'yral began to find his own footing, bit by bit. He started coming out of his shell, becoming more accustomed to anything sociable--it was slow going, but together, they helped each other become more than they'd ever be alone. A'yral needed Venjeth's backbone, his unshaking confidence, his willingness to make himself known no matter who was listening--Venjeth in turn needed A'yral's quiet reassurance, his understanding, and that gentleness to soften his edges down from lethal to merely protective. They had time to grow, and although it took them both plenty of effort to learn their duties properly, they became a model pair, doing their best to go above and beyond where possible.
And then Thread returned.
With the Weyr scrambling to protect Pern from its ancient enemy, there was so little time for A'yral and Venjeth to well and truly prepare themselves for what was about to happen. They knew what to do--it was what they'd been trained for, even if it had seemed somewhat pointless at the time. Hadn't Benden defeated the Enemy once and for all? They'd still trained all the same, of course, but their inexperience and uncertainty would be their downfall. One wrong adjustment, and A'yral's goggles were shoved out of place. They didn't have time to fix it in between flaming what little they could, and when he looked up at exactly the wrong moment, he caught a clump of Thread to the face, silver strands burning through flesh far too quickly for him to react. A'yral screamed. Venjeth went between, and the crushing cold knocking the breath out of his lungs is one of the last things he remembers before waking up in the infirmary the next day.
Recovery was difficult--A'yral had had the misfortune to lose the use of one eye, and the pain from the scoring was difficult to handle at first. With Venjeth constantly hovering as close nearby as he was able, he began to push himself through the obstacles he now faced; it quickly became clear that he was considerably shaken by the experience, however, and even when he was given a clean bill of health from the healers, he was never quite the same. A'yral maintained his duties, and, in fact, adhered to them even more fervently than before, but he quickly grew skittish, always worried about what might be lurking just on the edge of his now significantly reduced vision. Now, it was Venjeth's turn to offer a gentle hand, coaxing his rider's nerves down to more manageable levels when he was able. His success meant that they were able to resume their work as wingriders, spurred in part by the sheer necessity of dragons to fight Thread--A'yral couldn't bear to sit by when the threat of Threadfall was constantly on the horizon, emotional scars or no.
A few turns have passed since then, and A'yral has taken the time to process his trauma as best he can in the meantime. He's become almost singularly dedicated to fighting off Thread in spite of his own fear, spurred by the importance of his own duty to Pern and its people; he's still withdrawn and awkward, but he's as reliable as the sunrise when it counts. Everyone knows what a dragonrider must do, after all, and A'yral is no different.
Other: i've had him for two days but a'yral is my son already
Name: Venjeth. Age: 11. Color: White. Status: Single Size: 34' Physical Description: The first thing most people notice about Venjeth is that he's rather large for a White. The second is often that he's very close to A'yral in spite of his size, an almost ever-present shadow that's more inclined to loom and glare than any simple shade. He's got a few noticeable scars from threadscore, but nowhere near as bad as his rider; still, he wears them as a badge of honor, showing that he's risen to the challenge of protecting Pern. He holds himself with all the swagger and presence of the largest Bronze, and sees no reason why he shouldn't--he's just as capable of any of them, even if he's smaller. He does his part, too. Why shouldn't he be so confident?
It's not at all uncommon to find some kind of sneer or snarl on his face, sharp teeth bared to the world; similarly, his eyes usually whirl varying shades of red, although other tones can periodically be spotted if he's in the right company. His body is a sparkling white that fades into soft gray around the edges of his wings, head, and tailtip, with his neck and tail ridges displaying a similar gradient from gray to white depending on how close they are to his torso. Venjeth has white teardrop markings on his wingsails, tail, and face, each with a small dot at the rounded bottom edge of the shape; additionally, he has two thin white rings around his headknobs and the upper portion of his wingsails. He's a very handsome dragon to be sure, even if his temper leaves something to be desired. Personality: Venjeth is a gruff, foul-tempered dragon who tolerates little and has the patience for even less. He's more than willing to make his opinions clearly known, and his blunt delivery means that his thoughts often carry the same impact as a sledgehammer. Venjeth is absolutely not the kind to sugarcoat anything, save for in the most delicate of situations, and sees little reason to hide the truth behind so many layers of unnecessary niceties and beating around the bush. He has very high standards for both himself and others, and seeks to push them to their full potential whether they like it or not--they can thank him later once they figure out what's good for them. When Venjeth decides to be in someone's corner, he will stop at nothing to ensure they get whatever they need. Although he's fond of only a few others, the ones he's grown to care for will never have to wonder where they stand with him, and they'll never be without his support. Venjeth may even show them a somewhat softer side of himself, complete with plenty of dry humor and surprising gentleness; by and large, however, this behavior is reserved for A'yral.
Venjeth is absolutely brimming with confidence and is his own number one fan, aside from his rider--he knows what he does, and he does it very well. This unshakable self-assurance provides the foundation for much of his personality as a whole; it's what drives him to want to succeed bigger and better than ever before, what makes him want to handle other people's problems, and what keeps him standing strong as the first and foremost pillar in A'yral's life. He's made a point to be as comfortable in his own skin as is possible, reasoning that he can hardly help his rider or the precious few he's grown to like if he's too worried about something as inconsequential as his own image. Venjeth doesn't doubt himself, instead relying on experience, prowess, and practice to chase away any of those minds of thoughts should they arise. Generally speaking, they don't have much of a chance to. He's fiercely overprotective of his rider, acting as an additional set of eyes and ears to ensure that A'yral never finds his way into trouble. Venjeth has a tendency to vet people trying to befriend the man as well, gleaning whatever information he can from any reliable source to determine well in advance if they have any malicious intent. He doesn't trust easily at all, and half the struggle of getting to know A'yral is getting Venjeth to stop thinking of you as a temporary annoyance. Once you manage to get through that prickly outer shell, however, Venjeth will be there for you regardless of what happens. His friends are very dear to him, and they are granted his protection without a second thought.
Name: D'nov Age: 106. Nameday: 3469.4.20 Sex: Male. Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. Status: Single Weyr: Western. Rider Rank: Semi-retired Wingrider. Previous Rank/Craft: Journeyman glassblower. Physical Description: Short, soft, and almost constantly smiling, D'nov has the same kind of friendly, welcoming vibe that one's grandma's house might have. Physically, he's far from intimidating, and seems to hold all the sharp edges of a ball of clay--much like the rest of him, his features are similarly soft and genial, with keen golden eyes that always appear to be twinkling with some kind of curiosity. He stands at no more than 5'5", and his compact stature works quite well with his dragon's similarly small build. D'nov has short, tightly-curled hair that's started to recede just a bit, long since faded in color from a dark brown to more of a salt-and-pepper affair, with a few noticeable streaks of white tangled in with the rest. His skin is a warm medium brown, and remains free largely free of scars as a testament to his good luck. He has a large tattoo in limited color stretching over his shoulder depicting his dragon in flight, with her head placed at his collarbone and her tail coiling down his arm; although the ink is somewhat old, it still holds strong.
D'nov tends to wear the most comfortable clothes possible, often with bright and clashing patterns that can be visually jarring, to say the least. He's quite the fan of anything vibrant, and has a soft spot for picking up little accessories, tokens, and amulets that he either wears in abundant layers or sewn into his clothes as ornamentation. As a result, he tends to jingle when he walks, which can quite easily be used as an early warning system if you're seeking to avoid another super long conversation.
Personality: D'nov is a chatty, high-energy sort of person who seems to never want to hold still, always seeking some kind of new experience to catalogue or a fresh face to talk to. He's excitable and easy to talk to, but is very liable to go off on a tangent that won't be exhausted for the next 45 minutes or so--while he's certainly got plenty of information and experience to discuss, the problem is that he's kind of...bad at figuring out when the person he's talking to would like to stop talking. Truly, D'nov doesn't mean to be a bother--he's just very easily excitable, particularly about things he finds interesting. As a result, he tends to wander in hot pursuit of these topics, sometimes at the expense of prior commitments or promises. He's highly curious and is intensely driven to pursue his interests, wanting to know more about as much as is possible due to truly finding the world a fascinating, wondrous place.
People are included in this sphere of interest, too, and D'nov will more than happily chat for hours about somebody's life story if he's allowed to do so. In every sense of the word, D'nov is fascinated by others, and find the circumstances that led them to where they are now to be highly intriguing. This can result in him prying too far into someone else's personal life, a fact that hasn't earned him very much appreciation from those he's tried to analyze. D'nov doesn't intend any hurt with this tendency, and is highly apologetic should it occur, but often fails to recognize where he's managed to overstep other people's boundaries when he takes the time to look back on the matter. He tends to nurse his own slights for an inordinate amount of time, and can easily get preoccupied with any insults that have been turned his way, leading to long periods of moping or otherwise obsessing over what led to the problem in the first place. D'nov very much wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's by no means difficult to tell when he feels hurt. Positive Trait List Keen-witted, independent, sociable, inquisitive, friendly. Negative Trait List Socially unobservant, overly sensitive, busybody, nosy, flighty. History: The son of a master glassblower and a somewhat bitter wherhandler, Daminov was always considered to be his mother's heir, destined to become a master like her and take over the family business. His younger siblings were all trained in the same profession as well, although his youngest brother would be Searched at the tender age of 15--and that's where the family plan began to fall apart. His brother Impressed to a Green, which was heralded with plenty of cheering from his family in the Stands; while somewhat unexpected in the grand scheme of things, they were all still happy for him, and were already making plans to celebrate the occasion appropriately when they were able. Daminov, newly a journeyman and already working to carry on his mother's craft, didn't expect much to happen after that; others would Impress, and then they'd return home to their lives and pick back up where they left off.
And then the smallest egg began to move, the dragonet within clawing desperately at the shell in a bid to survive. She fought as hard as her tiny frame would allow, and exhaustion quickly began to work against her. Daminov looked on from the Stands, sympathetic but ultimately powerless to aid her; he was far from the Sands, and there was little he could do from here. It was only when another rider, bonded to the father of the clutch, decided to intervene that she was able to emerge; her cries were piercing and sorrowful, desperate to find Hers but terrified of the thought of trying to find them like this. She didn't know what to do, and for an excruciatingly long minute, it appeared as though she might go between instead. Her pleas did not fall on deaf ears, however. She begged for Hers to find her, and Daminov heard her. He had no intentions of becoming a dragonrider. No intentions of seeking a greater lot in life, of doing something more than what was expected of him--he'd been happy with that, genuinely enjoying his craft and eagerly working toward what he'd believed was his path. And then Wrath spoke to him in her quiet, timid mindvoice, sounding so scared and fragile--he stood up without a second thought, needing to be with His.
From then on, D'nov took a different approach to life. Being a dragonrider opened up so many new possibilities, and Wrath, despite her trepidation, was just as eager to experience them--just so long as D'nov was with her. Without the pressing threat of Thread, they were able to explore and discover the world around them with each other's help, which well and truly sparked D'nov's curiosity; he wanted to learn, and with Wrath at his side, he could see little in the way to hinder him. One of the first people he took a particular interest in was a fiery Brownrider, fervent in every aspect of her life and determined to exist in the fullest sense of the word. He frequently returned to her side when their paths crossed, and eventually, something more happened between them. A few months later, their son, Kossmino, was born, and D'nov's life was again changed.
While raising Kossmino wasn't entirely on his shoulders, D'nov decided it would be for the best if he put an end to his semi-nomadic lifestyle, instead sticking close in order to do what he could do do right by his son. While perhaps not the most skilled father, D'nov truly did his best to ensure Kossmino's happiness, wanting nothing more than to give his child the same abundance of opportunities that he'd been granted. When Kossmino Impressed a Blue and became K'ino, D'nov couldn't have been happier--now his son would truly be able to take the world how he'd hoped he could, and with Shevauth at his side, D'nov wouldn't have to worry quite as much. Still, despite his best efforts, their relationship had always been a little stilted simply due to their personalities, and K'ino took the opportunity to explore more of himself without his father quite seriously. Somewhat saddened by the separation from his son, but ultimately proud of him for taking that kind of initiative in his own life, D'nov returned to pursuing his own curiosities, still aiding the Weyr wherever needed as was his duty. The return of Thread put a sharp and sudden hold on all of that.
D'nov was already well over the age of retirement by then, but he eagerly turned himself and Wrath toward doing everything possible to minimize casualties wherever possible. Their main task was ferrying firestone to the wings fighting against it, but with Western's scarcity of the ore, they quickly found themselves doing anything and everything else in order to fill the gaps. At the end of the Fall, they were exhausted, but fortunately otherwise unharmed--plenty of others around them were by no means as lucky, however. Chasing interests and pursuing facts became nowhere near as important. Even retired as they were, D'nov and Wrath couldn't just sit by and watch Thread take everyone around them--whatever they could do, they would. Retirement didn't sit well with them, but they knew they couldn't do much about it at their age. All the same, they were still needed, and they couldn't just lie down and let the world pass them by.
Name: Wrath Age: 85. Color: White Status: Single Size: 28'. Physical Description: Small, compact, and stocky, Wrath is somewhat of an oddly-proportioned White, with short legs and a similarly stubby tail that in no way gives her an elegant physicality. She's fine with that, really; what she's far more concerned with is staying out of the way, and her small stature does a lot to help with that. It's rare to see her eyes whirl any shade other than yellow, and she usually tries to compress herself into as small of a ball as is possible when in any situation with more than a handful of people.
Personality: Despite her name, Wrath is a genuinely meek and unassuming dragon, and when you get over her crushing anxiety and near-constant nerves, she's a considerate, delicate soul. She doesn't handle unexpected surprises well, requiring ample time to prepare herself for social interaction in order to ensure she can handle the coming events without too much trouble. While she's a creature driven by her fears, including the fear of being left alone or driving everyone away, Wrath is fiercely affectionate, wanting to be loved and cherished with an almost desperate intensity. She can easily be described as clingy, sometimes oppressively so, and she does everything possible to make sure that she hasn't upset the people she's close to; any measure of reassurance goes a long way with her, and it's by no means difficult to earn her loyalty with gentle comforts.
Wrath wants little more than to be loved and appreciated, and is a bleeding heart through and through--she's highly empathetic, and the struggles of others will pull on her heartstrings without fail. She can easily be convinced to do things with an emotional appeal, and considering the fact that D'nov is similarly motivated, it can easily snowball into many impulsive decisions. Wrath is quite the pushover, and will readily roll over without much resistance when met with any kind of pressure, particularly from a higher-ranking dragon.
Dragon Art: not dropped yet!
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RPs
Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2020 7:38 pm
Name: Keerim Age: 18 Nameday: 3558.03.14 Sex: Transwoman Sexual Orientation: Lesbian Status: Single Weyr: Western Weyr Rider Rank: Weyrling Previous Rank/Craft: Farmer Physical Description: Keerim is an eye-catching young woman with an athletic build that clearly shows the muscles of her previous profession. She stands at 5'10", with medium-length straw blonde hair she most often keeps tied up in a simple bun to keep out of the way. If it ever slips free, it’s an unkempt mess that seems to have a mind of its own, and she does what she can to rein it in to keep it from being a bother during work. She's got strong, sharp-edged features and a somewhat long face, with high arching eyebrows over keen golden eyes--there's a few small scars flecked across her face, and the rest of her as well, from various mishaps in her youth, but she hasn't sustained any more significant damage yet. She always has some shade of a smile on her face, and she has something of a natural glow to her that only brightens when she's in the company of others.
Personality: She's an outgoing, highly personable person who often decides that she's friends with someone before she even knows them. Keerim won't be so easily deterred by negativity or bristly personalities, and will go out of her way to make sure that everyone's getting the same amount of positive reinforcement and attention, as they very well deserve. They work better together as a group if they all get along with each other, or at the very least have the capacity to work together in the first place, and that takes time, effort, and somebody who isn't going to take an insult as an answer; Keerim fits that bill almost perfectly. She's practically a human ray of sunshine, and she's fiercely intent on keeping everything running as smoothly as possible. She'll intervene in fights or disagreements without being asked, which--needless to say, hasn't quite produced the results she'd like all the time. Still, her optimism insists that it's only a minor setback! She can work around it, or otherwise forge forward. Nothing's going to stop her if she keeps her nose to the grindstone! Keerim keeps her dreams high, sometimes way out of reach, and isn't easily dissuaded from them. The fact that she's as persistent as a guard wher isn't always a good thing, considering the fact that she can sometimes latch on to a glitzy idea without knowing when to let it go--any failures along the way are still just brief problems, little things to be handled before she carries on her way to the scintillating future. Or at least--what she hopes is a bright future. Her cheerfulness seems to know no bounds, but she's not immune to faltering every now and again. She'll just beat herself up for it a bit before she gets back up.
Even though she tries to imply otherwise, Keerim does, in fact, have her limits. Although she does her best to project the image of a constantly-upbeat hardworking girl who doesn't consider anything at all to be a serious roadblock, she's just as capable of being knocked off-guard as anyone else, not to mention affected by more negative emotions--when things get to her, they get to her hard. She's naive, and wants to believe the best in everyone and everything; when reality proves otherwise, she takes it very personally, and while she'll quickly pick the pieces back up and resume acting as though nothing had ever happened, she's prone to nurse emotional damage for a while. She doubts herself far more than she lets on, and is constantly second-guessing her choices; she lived according to her family's rules for her entire life, and having to think for herself is a scary prospect that she isn't always convinced she can handle. What terrifies her the most is the notion that this whole dragonrider thing was just a massive mistake, and something truly terrible is going to happen to put her back in her place.
Positive Trait List Cheery, loyal, determined, patient. Negative Trait List Uncertain, naive, overly idealistic, nosy. History: Keerim comes from a long line of farmers from High Reaches Hold, secure in their work and comfortable in their manner of living after so long of carrying on the family tradition. They were a respectable sort, honest and hardworking, and...bland. It wasn't that they were patently uninteresting, or exceptionally plain and simple, but they were content with what they did and where they were, which afforded little variation in their lives. Keerim, however, wasn't quite so convinced this life was for her--how could she know when she'd never done anything besides farm, after all? She'd already questioned plenty in her short life, deciding rather early on that who her family had initially thought she was wasn't truly her, and she saw little reason why she shouldn't take a bit of time to really think about what she wanted to do. She loved working on the farm, genuinely, but what if there was something better out there for her? Her family's strict rules didn't let her question it too much, at least--not out loud, but she still wondered from time to time, dreaming about what things would be like somewhere else. The opportunity came when she was 17. A Searchrider making his rounds had gotten a gentle nudge from his Green, and he'd breezed by the family farm on her suggestion, just in time to catch Keerim and her father returning from a produce delivery to the Hold proper. Keerim was absolutely over the moon at the idea of being Searched, but her family...was far less enthusiastic. Even with the return of Thread making dragonriders needed again, they weren't particularly fond of them; after so many turns of seeing the weyr's population as a drain on their resources and crops, they had little love for them, and the thought of their daughter traipsing off to join their number was one they couldn’t stand. Besides, Keerim was needed for the harvest--they would have to have every one of them around for that, and would she really leave her family on a whim to go off and try something like dragonriding?
Doubt gripped her. This was the chance she'd dreamed of so earnestly, dangling right here in front of her--and were it not for her family's displeasure at the idea, she wouldn't have hesitated in the slightest. Was it a crime to want to be something else? To--live differently for once, even just for a little while? That's all she wanted, truly--just a taste of the world, and then she'd be back home before the harvest. She'd return as soon as she'd been to one Hatching, as she kept on telling herself. She didn't think she'd Impress in a million years, but being able to experience that was worth it all the same. Besides, there was no harm in seeing what life was like somewhere else, especially somewhere like the Weyr; Pern needed farmers, of course, but it needed its dragonriders, too, and Keerim couldn't help but be curious about how they lived. She'd come back to the farm! Her family might consider it a betrayal, but she had to know what was out there. For the first time, Keerim willingly left her family, promising them over and over that it wasn't permanent. It wasn’t supposed to be--it was only a short trip, something to finally quell the desire burning in her heart.
She never did come back, though. One candidate exchange with Western saw fit to end that.
Keerim had never thought her life could change so suddenly--or at all, really. She'd been content with the thought of being a farmer like the rest of her family, but now she had an entirely different future stretching out before her, one that would take her straight to the skies. More than that, she wouldn’t do it alone--Zeuliath would be by her side every step of the way, and the enormity of their bond was far more than Keerim could have ever imagined.
Other: Keerim is excellent with plants, and loves working with her hands. In her spare time, she's been known to whittle all kinds of little trinkets, which she most often winds up giving out as gifts.
Name: Zeuliath Age: Hatchling Color: White Status: Unavailable Size: 26' Physical Description: Sleek and lithe, Zeuliath cuts an elegant figure in spite of his very compact frame. He has a long, almost serpentine neck, and his slender build gives him something of an ethereal presence--that is, until he starts talking and ruins it. His biggest weak point is that one of his headknobs is just a touch crooked, sticking out a bit more at a near-imperceptible angle compared to the other; Zeuliath knows, however, and bemoans this fact on the regular.
Personality: Zeuliath’s personality would suit even the most bombastic Bronze. He's larger than life in just about every way imaginable despite his small frame, and he's a constant energetic presence who seems much wiser than a dragon so young ought to be. He strives to be the most at all times, a high-energy dynamo who won’t let anything stand in his way--he can be overly forceful without meaning to, however, and has trouble both with accepting things he cannot change and remembering the boundaries of others. Zeuliath is by no means malicious, though--he simply gets carried away with his grandiose ideas, and often forget to consider the effects of his actions in the moment due to fixating on how things could be. He's very idealistic, albeit in a more sweeping sense than Keerim herself is--while his rider tends to dream about much smaller things, Zeuliath is always waxing romantic over the way the world could be if we only did this instead. He wants to leave their mark on Pern in the best way possible, and he spends a lot of his free time contemplating both his own image and the way they could achieve that goal.
Zeuliath can be egotistical, haughty, and even self-absorbed, but at the end of the day, his hearts are in the right place, and he's driven just as much by their desire to better those around him as he is by his dreams of glory. He can’t stand leaving others in the dust when he could lift them up, and is a fierce champion for the downtrodden, using every bit of his eloquence, charm, and outright forceful nature if necessary to ensure that everyone stays on a safe, level playing field. Inequality is something he well and truly cannot stomach, and the quickest way to earn his ire is to reduce others based on traits they cannot control. Colorists and traditionalists can go to a few very specific places, in his most honest opinion, and he won’t hesitate to fight these beliefs where he finds them. In Zeuliath’s view of the world, there is absolutely no place for such reductive ideas, and he will not abide their propagation.
Why Me: Dear dreaming Keerim, finally taking control of her own destiny and chasing after her heart’s desire for once--although she may have intended it to be nothing more than one brief blaze of glory (or rather just a temporary adventure, in her own words), Zeuliath could not abide such a thing. In her, he saw a kindred spirit, although one that had been dampened for far too long by her family’s restrictions and the rigid framework within which she’d built her life. He wanted to set her free, but more than that, he wanted to take her under his (respectably-sized, thank you) wings to guide her to the pinnacle she deserves. He knew she could be someone great, and letting her return to her family in defeat only to be subsumed by farming for the rest of her life would be an unthinkable tragedy in his mind. Zeuliath loves Keerim's optimism and enthusiasm, and her softer nature lends itself well to tempering his more...forceful aspects, particularly when dealing with others. He knows he can rely on her cheer and unwavering patience to help balance him when he gets too caught up in the heat of his own actions. Her determination is a bolstering force to him when he's at his weakest, and in return, he strives to support her through her own doubts. With Zeuliath at her side, Keerim can be totally sure that she doesn't have to stand on her own, and together, they can tackle anything Pern or the Red Star could possibly throw at them.
Additional Notes: Zeuliath has a bit of a complex about how small he is, and takes mention of his size very, very personally.
Name: S’eran Age: 23. Sex: Agender. Sexual Orientation: Demiromantic. Status: Single Weyr: Western Weyr Rider Rank: Wingrider Previous Rank/Craft: Kitchen staff. Physical Description: Short, stocky, and well-built, S’eran stands at an underwhelming 5’4”, although they certainly don't seem to mind. They’ve got plenty of chub on their frame, which only serves to mask the sheer muscle they carry. Their hair is blond, streaked with white, and they prefer to keep it long--it’s almost always swept back into a braid, sometimes with little charms folded in if they're feeling fancy. When it's loose, it reaches the middle of their back in gentle waves. Their skin is a deep golden brown, save for the scattering of white across their features; they have vitiligo, and this is most prominent on their face and forearms where it forms almost symmetrical splotches of pale pink. S’eran’s eyes are a bright green, seemingly always twinkling with an unspoken joke or quiet humor--they have some small flecks of gold in them if you look close enough. Usually, they wear pretty casually-fitted clothing, with little concern for much other than their own comfort. They prefer looser shirts these days, sticking with less restrictive tops to keep their injured shoulders from having to fight against much fabric--they have fairly significant patch of threadscore across their back, almost as if they bore a clump of it on their shoulders. One side is almost shaped like a wing, and they’ve been known to joke that they need to go earn the other one still.
Personality: S’eran feels like the personification of a nice warm cup of klah in the morning: warm and welcoming, but with a little bit of a bite to keep you on your toes. They're a genial, social sort, and take to new interactions like a fish to water, especially if there's any new faces in the crows. It's rare for them to be out of their element, or at least to be visibly caught off-guard--S’eran knows how to cover their bases well, and in the event that they might not have prepared adequately, they at least know how to spin it into a humorous situation to hopefully relieve some of the oncoming pressure. They're quick with their commentary and can usually think of something to lighten the mood, and take particular joy in finding someone who's just as willing to go back and forth as they are. S’eran prefers to keep things friendly as a rule, but that completely depends on who happens to be involved--if someone they know they don't like decides to show their face, all bets are off. They find it incredibly difficult to hide any ill will they've got toward the unfortunate few that have earned it, and don't see much of a reason why they should. If they have a problem with someone, there's no reason to beat around the bush with it, is there? Ideally, this would point them toward trying to resolve the problem and getting on good footing with the other person, but S’eran takes a very different approach. Instead, they latch on to their grudges once they're fully formed, and it takes a significant amount of effort for them to be convinced to let things go.
With either their friends or acquaintances in the making, however, S’eran easily falls into something of a parental role, whether they mean to or not. They're quick to do what they can to boost people's confidence if they see anyone flagging, and are very insistent on ensuring everyone is properly taken care of. They will quite gladly do anything for just about anyone, provided they get to come along and carry on a good conversation in the meantime--getting to go places and do things with others is all they really want in life, and they absolutely adore getting to know the people behind a new face. They're constantly amazed by the skills, talents, and quirks of others, and are completely genuine in their praise, even if it's quite frequent. S’eran isn't just astounded by people, though. Everything around them is incredible in some way or another, and they waste no time in acknowledging it. They love doing things just to do them, even if the results may seem like unfortunate consequences--waking up super early just to see the stars fade into sunrise, snacking on their lunch before it's cooled to feel the burn on their tongue, coming just a bit too close to hurting themself during their day to day tasks, or digging their toes into the sand at the beach and trying to avoid the little crabs they disturb in the process...it's all absolutely wonderful, and S’eran finds these moments far more precious than anything other than their dragon. They aspire to live fully and earnestly, and if they can manage to show someone even a fraction of the wonder they find in the world around them, they’d be happy to say they've led a life worth living.
Positive Trait List Supportive, quick-witted, attentive, charismatic, confident, eager. Negative Trait List Impulsive, short-tempered, mercurial, holds on to grudges, overbearing, tactless.
History: The only child of a pair of master healers in Southern Boll, Satheran knew from an early age that they had absolutely no intention of following in their parents’ footsteps. It wasn't that they didn't find healing interesting--it was, of course, but they just didn't feel like it was the perfect fit for them. There was so much to choose from out in the world, and it felt like an incredibly poor decision to limit what they could do so soon just because their parents had found their calling. When they were old enough, they bounced from apprenticeship to apprenticeship whenever they were able to, picking up a wide variety of knowledge and skills along the way--as well as somewhat of a reputation for being a flake, but that was a small price to pay for what they got out of it all in the long run. They were able to travel a bit and meet so many captivating people, and they quickly fell in love with the world around them in such a way that it became difficult to convince themself to settle for just one thing. It took them a few years before they found their calling--cooking. While they've always had a knack for the culinary arts, Satheran still didn't know if they should go all in on it, dimly worried that they may be boxing themself into losing their passion for it by making it all that they did. With some gentle reassurance from their friends and parents, however, Satheran began pursuing their talent more earnestly, and eventually wound up becoming kitchen staff at Western Weyr through the help of a rider friend they'd picked up along the way--and they quickly learned how much they truly loved what they did. Satheran adored the way food connected people, and life at the Weyr was so new and exciting, even if they got to view it through the somewhat limited scope of the kitchen. They worked hard to earn their place in their new home, and became enamored with both how Western was and the presence of dragonriders, growing even more fascinated with them once they were put into such close quarters. Satheran held no dreams of joining their ranks, but they couldn't help but stand awestruck whenever they saw a dragon and rider take flight all the same.
And then Thread returned. Things changed very suddenly after that.
Satheran found themself caught up in a blur as life at the Weyr began to rapidly accelerate, the quiet comforts and small wonders they loved being subsumed by the magnitude of the disaster that had returned to ruin it all once more. Although confused and even outright scared, they put their nose to the grindstone as best as they could, feeling less and less like they'd made a good choice in their profession once faces began disappearing or coming back injured--maybe if they’d learned more of the healing arts, or even gone into it themself, they might be more useful than they were right now. A good stew wasn't going to convince Thread to stop falling, and a cake couldn't heal a rider’s wounds. Their uncertainty brewed behind closed doors, and with everything else going on, it largely escaped notice, with Satheran easily dismissing it in favor of keeping attention where it needed to be. The next baffling change in their life came when they Impressed. They’d simply been on hand to help with the post-Hatching feast and nothing more--they'd been glad to return to their home even for such a short while, but the thought of seeing what might have happened while they were gone terrified them. Satheran did their best to stay out of the way, rushing this way and that with the rest of the staff to get everything set up in time--they’d been asked to go to the Sands and relay a question, although they couldn't tell you what it was now. They’d turned away to get back to work when a precious little Green, newly hatched and unsteady on her feet, broke away from the gathered Candidates to press her nose into their hand so gently, so delicately, and their world would never be the same. She’d waited, waited, waited for the moment Satheran would come, holding out as long as she could until Hers was close enough for her to reach--and when they'd started to leave, she'd bordered on outright panic, fighting tooth and nail to free herself from her shell to let Hers know that she was there--Fujiath was there, their Fujiath, and they needed to stay with her, please, please. Would they stay with her? She knew they had responsibilities, had a job to do, but she’d waited so long for them, and she couldn't imagine leaving her S’eran--but could they picture leaving her? No. No, no, of course not, not now, and not ever. They would protect her, and they'd be there with her every step of the way. S’eran idly wondered if they'd get in trouble for not coming back to the kitchen, but one look into Fujiath's eyes whirling rainbow completely overtook any concerns they might have had. They'd found their other half they didn't know they were missing, and if the people in charge of the feast couldn't see that, then that was their problem.
Weyrling training was rougher than they could've expected, and even though they understood the necessity for such strict supervision, S’eran still found themself chafing under the yoke all the same. Fujiath, although skittish and uncertain, helped them keep their temper in check, encouraging them to last just a little longer for her. This tactic worked to their advantage, as the pair were able to graduate with no real hangups despite the occasional disciplinary action due to S’eran snapping at the wrong time. They were riders now, fully fledged and ready to fight--at least on paper. Fujiath had learned to compose herself and project a shockingly convincing guise of cool confidence and poise, but S’eran knew her nerves were still plenty present, and although S’eran themself had a ways to go on learning how to keep their tongue in check, they figured out a better time and place to let it loose; for the most part, anyway. At this rate, they might be able to grow into a genuinely excellent pair with a little more experience. Who would have thought?
Other: They can make a mean crepe, and if you say you're even slightly hungry around them, they’ll fix that. That is a threat.
Name: Fujiath Age: 1 Color: Green Status: Single Size: 38’ Physical Attributes: Slim, wispy, and almost shockingly leggy, Fujiath’s build can best be described as bordering on frail. She would prefer to be described as ethereal instead, however, as it's much more of an evocative term. She takes particular pride in her wings, and her wingsails have an jadelike translucent quality if they're in just the right light--she's incredibly fond of how she looks in the sunlight as a result. It's not uncommon for S’eran to make her small flower crowns for one of her headknobs when they're not busy, and she loves the contrast of bright flowers against her hide. Now, she's gained a nasty threadscore wrapping around her left front leg, giving her a permanent limp.
Personality: Quiet, understated, and serene, Fujiath is a calm ocean whose temper moves at an absolutely glacial pace. She carries herself with carefully cultivated poise and elegance, moving through social interactions with such a light touch that she almost seems to be simply observing it all as opposed to directly being involved. It would be incorrect to assume that she's aloof or intentionally detached, however--she cares deeply and intensely, even if it's so often hidden behind her guise of composure. Fujiath is far more emotional than she lets on, preferring to keep her true feelings only to herself or her close confidants--she's a very private soul, and the intensity of her emotions can easily spook her. As a result, she has a tendency to bottle things up until they're almost too much for her to handle alone. She's not overly fond of the idea of relying on others, and, as a result, puts a lot of effort into minimizing her problems so that no one but Hers can call her on it.
She's a gentle dragon, but it's wise not to mistake her delicate nature for genuine weakness. While she may not be counted among the fiercest dragons of her weyr, she has more bite than is expected, although she’ll without a doubt feel terrible about having to use it. Fujiath will do whatever possible to avoid coming into any kind of confrontation, bending over backwards to find ways to try and make everything work out in everyone's favor. She can be easily bowled over by others that are more forceful or opinionated than her, and tends to fold under personal pressure--to a point. When she's finally backed into a corner, Fujiath has much less qualms about lashing out, although her anger has much less direction than she'd like. If stressed enough, her composure flies out the window, and whoever’s unfortunate to be near enough could very well find themselves under fire, even if they haven't done anything to deserve it. Once she's done, she's likely to isolate herself until she feels comfortable approaching people again, and her ‘apology phase’ comes with a much more genuine, if desperate, view of how she really is instead of the calculated version she puts up in public. She wants to be liked and maybe even loved, and she's always afraid that she might ruin her chances of that whenever she pushes herself too far.
Fujiath has a bit of an icy demeanor at first glance, but once those outer layers begin to drop, it becomes evident that she's still the same nervous dragon she was as a hatchling, albeit bigger and with more flight capability these days. She doesn't like the thought that her nerves can be so easily recognized, or the notion that others absolutely still remember her from before she learned how to act--she especially walks on eggshells around her clutchmates, afraid of what they might say should she slip up and prove herself to be much the same even after all this time. She dreams of truly being the elegant, graceful Fujiath she presents herself as, rather than simply faking it in the hopes that she can fool even herself into believing the act to be her most genuine self. She's prone to melancholy and is particularly self-conscious about both her own image and whether or not she's seen as capable--S’eran is good at shaking her out of these ruts when she digs herself into them, but all the same, she longs for the day when she might not be so worried about these things anymore.
Name: Alkaneth
Name: Elpisath
Name: Venjeth.
Name: Zeuliath
Name: Fujiath