Rider
Name: Sa'nil
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heteroromantic asexual
Rank: Wingrider
History: Sanilmar was born at Southern Boll Hold, to weavers who expected their son to follow in their footsteps. And for a time, Sanilmar did. From a young age, he was taught all the things that the young people - mostly girls - apprenticed at Weaver Hall were, and never seemed to notice anything wrong with that. A beautiful, slightly spoiled child, he wanted for little and rarely had to ask more than once before something he wanted was given to him. It was the sort of life most children dream of having, but Sanilmar longed for something more. In spite of his delicate looks, he wanted adventure. It came on his thirteenth birthday, when a traveling Harper noted the Sanilmar's exemplary voice and natural ear for tunes and offered to take him back to Harper Hall. Granted the go-ahead from his parents, Sanilmar went, delighted, eager to learn new things and discover the wider world of Pern.
For three turns, he discovered that Pern consists mostly of sitting in lessons, memorizing teaching ballads, and doing whatever chores are given to you on the roster. And eager, excitable Sanilmar again longed for something more. It came a few months after his sixteenth nameday, when a Fort dragonrider came to the Hall asking for apprentices who wanted a chance at something new and prestigious. Again, Sanilmar dashed off, only to find himself Searched and thrown in front of a clutch the day before a Touching. From there, he waited anxiously until shells finally began to crack. And then he was tugged into a white robe and thrust in front of the clutchmother with an exhortation to keep his wits about him and not make any trouble.
Nervous on the Sands, he fixed his eyes on every beautiful blue and graceful green who broke shell, hoping that one of them would become his bondmate. He paid little heed to the browns and bronzes as they hatched; he had heard the Fort boys snickering when they saw him - what proper dragon would want a Harper boy with hair longer than a girl's? But they were proven wrong when an enormous bronze hatchling clubbed his way out of his shell, stumbled across the Sands, and marched right past the line of waiting young men to curl eagerly against Sanilmar and rumble a greeting.
He was Zenoth, bronze to rider Sa'nil, and he was hungry, but he didn't want to miss the rest of this eggs-citing occasion. Get it? Eggs-citing?
Sa'nil had no idea what to do; suddenly a bronzerider, he was thrown into a world of bewildering responsibility and adventure, chaperoned by a dragon with a terrible sense of humor and the burning need to share it with everyone. They were a hit with the rest of the Weyrling class and elevated to popularity through Zenoth's exuberant class clown status, something Sa'nil wasn't used to, but the attention he began to receive with the bronze at his side was...nice. It was different from anything else he had ever experienced, and there was something about being a dragonrider that fulfilled that little part of him that always wanted more adventure. How much more adventure could there be than taking to the skies with his bondmate in his mind for the rest of his life? When they graduated, though, Sa'nil intended to take Zenoth and return to Harper Hall. He had work to finish; tables to walk!
He never managed to do it. He was a bronzerider, and bronzeriders were leadership, whether they wanted to be or not. And Sa'nil was called back from Harper Hall almost immediately, with the instructions that he was to begin flying under a wingleader who had specifically requested his presence. He and Zenoth were to be groomed for leadership, whether they wanted it or not. But Zenoth wanted it, and with time, Sa'nil wanted it as well. And he did well at it, becoming wingsecond by age twenty. There, he excelled: charismatic and eager, likable, with sound-decisionmaking skills and an uncanny ability to convince his wing to do what he wanted. He was above all else diplomatic. Harper training paid off. His wingleader was grooming him to lead, training a replacement for the five turns hence that he would step down and retire. Sa'nil accepted the training eagerly, just as he did everything else.
Four turns later, Thread began to fall and his life fell apart.
Twenty-two turns old, hot-headed, and eager to prove himself, Sa'nil and a small group of other riders were sent to investigate rumours surrounding a problem with firestone. Thread's return had people shaken - enough so that the idea that there was some problem with one of the mines that might prevent 'stone from arriving in time was genuinely terrifying, and for one reason or another required the intervention of a wingsecond. He arrived to find something of a riot - miners demanding better compensation, resisting the Rider-imposed compulsion to give up the 'stone for next to nothing. Their working conditions were inhumane, they said. And they had a load of firestone out, waiting for rain. They would destroy it if they weren't provided further compensation. Sa'nil was there as a negotiator - something he ought to have excelled at. Except that it began to rain.
In hindsight, when the first drop hit him, Sa'nil should have gotten himself and his wing out of the way, should have hightailed it out and taken the 'stone as a loss. But hindsight is 20/20, and foresight is rarely so sharp. Sa'nil sprang into action, in an attempt to get the 'stone uncovered before it came in contact with rainwater. And then the skies opened up.
It exploded on him.
Sa'nil doesn't remember much until a few days after the explosion - and most of what he remembers for the next month is the haze of Fellis-dampened pain and the strange immobility that came of the better part of his upper body covered in second- and third-degree burns. It's a miracle he survived, but that was what dragonriders were bred for - to be strong in the face of even the worst adversity. And Sa'nil would not die as long as Zenoth was alive. His recovery was slow and painful emotionally as well as physically, for the explosion had irreparably damaged his vocal cords and left him entirely deaf.
A Harper suddenly locked in a world without sound, there were periods where Sa'nil was convinced he wouldn't make it out alive. But he held on for his dragon's sake, and then eventually for the sake of Valeska, a bluerider recovering with serious damage to her face as well. The two of them had their injuries in common, though Valeska's was from the first Threadfall, and Sa'nil's from a much more embarrassing accident. Still, they...got along. And Sa'nil began to recover. It was slow going, but over a turn, put his life back together and, with Valeska's help, found a new calling. The signs they had initially used to communicate were similar to the signs wingleaders used in Threadfall, but more personal - and Sa'nil began to wonder if there weren't other people in Pern who could benefit from the development of a sign language. He dove into that, devoting himself strongly to the cause.
They stayed close even after they had both recovered; Valeska had already learned many of the signs that Sa'nil had developed, and when the former Harper decided he wanted to develop a standardized sign language, it only made sense for someone who already understood most of it to come along for the ride. As he refined and developed the language (regularly sending reports to Harper Hall), Valeska was both his tester and interpreter. For a time, they drifted from Weyr to Weyr, Sa'nil attempting to find chances to share his signs with other injured riders, and Valeska desperately searching for a cause to put herself behind. They spent a few turns as drifters, before finally turning their attention to the Wherholds.
It was Valeska's idea to move to Malvren, and Sa'nil went with her. Though he was concerned at first about the possibility of violence, the seeming equity of the Weyr under Keller's reign was...different. Nice. He had missed the overthrow and much of the violence - and stayed out of it when attacks between the Wherholds and Trine began again in earnest. Valeska had a cause, and Sa'nil had a safe place. That was enough.
Description: It might not be obvious at first, but Sa’nil was once beautiful. The skeleton of beauty is certainly there, even if he isn’t what he used to be.
He wears his honey-blond hair long. Ridiculously long. When it’s up in a braid (which is almost always), it falls to the base of his spine. Formerly a vain man, there is much that Sa’nil has had to give up since the accident, but shard it, his hair will not be one of them! It is impeccably tended, and in addition to the braid, he cultivates long bangs that fall over his face. His features seem like at one point they must have been delicate—to compliment the body shape he still maintains. Sa’nil is lean. Five-foot-eight and sparely muscled, his build is the sort that would get a woman called “willowy.” He’s certainly not a very strong man—he can carry a sack of firestone, but don’t expect him to be able to do more than the bare minimum required of riders—particularly with his restricted range of motion. His eyes are large and stunning blue, with ridiculously thick lashes a few shades darker than his hair that give the illusion of a subtle kohl lining even when none is used.
Most of this, however, is not obvious at a first glance, because the entirety of Sa’nil’s upper body—face, neck, chest, arms, and hands—is covered in nasty-looking burn scars. His bangs obscure the worst of the facial burns, but he would never be able to convince anyone that he wasn’t damaged. Particularly since it’s been long enough since the accident that he has learned to be comfortable enough to wear the occasional open-necked or sleeveless tunic. The only item of clothing he is almost never seen without are his gloves—bright, bleached white, they are trimmed with gold at the wrists. They serve the dual purpose of protecting his somewhat-delicate fingers from overmuch friction and drawing attention to his main speech tool. Sa’nil, while he might occasionally remove them for bathing, laundry, or other activities, feels naked without them.
Personality:
Strengths:
- Affable: Sa'nil likes people. He's easy to get along with and tries his damnedest to make and maintain friendships - he likes being liked. Even if people can't understand him, he wants them to come away from conversations thinking that he's nice - and it's not an act. It's 100% genuine.
Positive: Sa'nil tries to look on the bright side of life. There are upsides to every downside, and though he's by no means blindly optimistic, he generally tries to focus on good things, rather than bad. If he were to wallow in his own despair, he'd get nothing done - and he keeps the depression at bay by thinking about the good in life.
Patient: Some things in life take time. Sa'nil knows this, and is generally surprisingly willing to repeat things or take something slowly in order to make certain it was done right, or that he can be understood. He's a remarkably good teacher, rarely getting frustrated and taking pains to be thorough in his explanations of things. Languages don't get learned overnight, after all.
Adventurous: Is there something interesting or exciting out there? Sa'nil would be glad to go investigate it! Though for the most part, he stays out of dangerous situations, nowadays, Sa'nil is certainly ready and willing to go off investigating any interesting or new things that come his way. Adventure is out there, and he wants to go find it!
Energetic: Sa'nil can go go go for hours. He gets excited easily, and that enthusiasm doesn't flag quickly. Once he's onto something, Sa'nil will throw his entire heart and soul into it, and when he's excited, he practically vibrates. He's very, very eager to get out there and do things, which results in some good-natured failing every now and again.
- Sensitive: Sa'nil takes things to heart. He knows he's not attractive, and his disability prevents him from integrating 100% into society, and this makes him a little anxious. He tends to take insults to heart, and is surprisingly likely to fall into funks and sulk.
High-Strung: The anxiety and sensitivity means that Sa'nil is often poised right on the edge of a nervous breakdown. While he tries to keep himself more or less under control, there's always the possibility that a careless comment can send him into a powerful funk. There's something a little nervous, a little desperate about his cheerfulness, like he's all but ready to fall apart at any second.
Monophobic: Sa'nil is terrified of being alone. He clings fiercely to friends, his dragon, basically anyone who can fill the void. When left to his own devices, he quickly becomes depressed, and being alone for long periods of time actually induces him to panic attacks. He comes off as more than a little clingy because of this.
Vain: Sa'nil doesn't have much left in the way of appearance, but what he does have, he defends fiercely. a**-length hair might not be practical, but it's all he has left, and he will fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. He's similarly aggressive about keeping in shape and staying thin, sometimes to his own detriment.
Self-Deceiving: As long as Sa'nil insists mentally that nothing is wrong, nothing can be wrong, right? He has a tendency to kind of mentally trick himself out of sadness, or generally insist in his own head that everything is okay - even when it's not. He doesn't like confronting bad situations, and so will quite cheerfully retcon them out of his life as soon as he gets the chance.
The one thing about Sa’nil that tends to surprise those who have only just met him is how happy he is. For someone who had his entire life ripped away from him in an instant, the wingrider is remarkably light-hearted. Almost never seen without a smile (always slightly lopsided, because it’s all his facial scarring will allow), his general bearing is cheerful, friendly, even excitable. The excitability is similar to that of a puppy, all love and eagerness and a desire to please anyone and everyone.
But unlike a puppy, there is never a chance of Sa’nil nipping or even making a mess. His touches and interactions with others are friendly but always gentle—with the exception of those he knows well. With his close friends, he is more forward, tugging and pushing and occasionally even punching if the situation demands. And he’s extremely cuddly with those same people, physically affectionate. This is entirely platonic, though: Sa’nil is asexual and only rarely romantically interested in women, preferring friendly physical relationships and tending to panic when people mistake his affectionate contact for romantic interest.
Unfortunately, it is difficult for Sa’nil to get to know people outside of his close inner circle. This is not for lack of trying—he’s extremely eager and excited to get to know others and loves to spend time with people (social butterfly, this little creature)—but because Sa’nil often finds it difficult to communicate with other Pernese people. Left entirely deaf and near-entirely mute by the same accident that took his good looks, he has taught himself to read lips but finds it incredibly difficult to speak words. He has instead picked up an active version of Pernese sign language that he has tailored with time, making certain he is as understandable as possible.
He was active before the accident, and he remains active after it, moving with a great deal of speed, vibrancy, and energy. Everything Sa’nil does, he does quickly—with the exception of signing. Because when it is your primary method of speech, doing it too quickly would deprive others of the only way they have to understand you. So even if he seems to be fidgeting so much, he can’t stand still, his hands will always move slowly, smoothly, and above all clearly.
But as patient as Sa’nil’s motions may seem and as happy as the front he puts out is, his life isn’t always sunshine and daisies. Still sensitive to his condition and appearance, his feelings are hurt rather easily, and though he bottles it up and continues to present a happy face to the world at large, the more hurtful things are said around him, the more stressed he becomes. And while Sa’nil will never explode with anger—it’s simply not in him to be properly angry, though he tends toward frustration, particularly when it comes to insensitivity and people who misunderstand his efforts at communication—he is prone to stress-related meltdowns and the occasional severe nervous breakdown. There are times when he breaks down sobbing inconsolably, and when he has a breakdown he is often useless for the next several hours, if not a whole day.
Luckily, these don’t happen often, and can be suppressed in the presence of people to whom Sa’nil feels close. Nowadays, that’s mostly Valeska and Zenoth, but he's eager to expand it.
Other: He carries around a book and a writing implement, which allows him to communicate with most people if need be, but he is also working in his spare time, occasionally with some of his Harper contact to develop a standardized Pernese sign language. It's not going particularly well so far. Valeska of Blue Rheth speaks it best, and generally serves as his interpreter.
Dragon
Name: Zenoth
Age: 10
Colour: Bronze
Description: [Adult]
Zenoth is a pit bull of a dragon. He may not be on the same scale as some of the truly enormous bronzes but he is definitely one of the larger examples of his color. He has longer legs than what could be considered normal, and exceedingly shiny claws. His head is large, and his jaw thick and square with a powerfully corded neck. He cuts of a thick figure, all hard and fierce muscles. Even his wings are large and in charge, made of nearly pure power.
His base color is that of an old penny, still with that tell-tale sheen of being all male and Bronze-like. His markings are lighter, the shine of the metal all Bronzes are named for. Zebra-esque stripes cover the entirety of his wings and up his spine. His tail of covered with the same decoration. Zenoth likes to think of the rather scattered markings as a 'mark of distinction'. Whatever makes him happy, right?
- Size: Large
Build: Bodybuilder
Personality: Quite simply, Zenoth is a force of nature. This isn't a comparison of dragon with tornado, but rather a very invasice and insistant breeze. Zenoth is not the sort of dragon that understands that personal boundaries are a thing that people actually believe exist, and sees it as his right as not just a bondmate, but Sa'nil's bondmate, to pry into what busines he needs to. What if his Sa'nil needs something and he doesn't know the answer?
He prefers to translate straight to humans directly for his Rider, finding other dragons unreliable to get through Sa'nil's true meaning. This of course means that whole 'you're a rude dragon if you talk to other riders' rule is just totally out the window, and Zenoth couldn't care less.
Maybe His is a puppy, and a hyper creature, but Zenoth is a witty creature full of horribly bad jokes. 'Knock knocks' are probably not unheard of in his career with Sa'nil. Zenoth is a bronze full of laughter and he'd like to share that laughter, thank you. He's that dragon to crack some random joke in the middle of a discussion, and end up confusing absolutely everyone. At least he's calm about it? Zenoth is completely aware that not everyone understands what's chuckle-worthy, and is chill with that fact.
He's a cuddly dragon, that much can be said. With his girth, one needs to be, and with a bondmate like Sa'nil, it's a sharding requirement. Zenoth sees nothing wrong with doting on and coddling his rider, and snuggles right up to him whenever either one of the pair wants it, or needs to. When it comes to others, Zenoth is more prone to keep a polite distance, but if the individual requires physical contact, he will snuffle a nose up against them. Sa'nil is more than welcome to curl up in front of a warm fire with whatever company he chooses - Zenoth shall stand powerful guard!
Zenoth talks, and he talks a lot, but he knows when to shut up. When Sa'nil cries, he has the entire shiny bulk of Zenoth to clutch onto and hide behind. In that time, Zenoth will defend him as a Gold with her first clutch. He is protective of his Rider, and while that just usually means translating for Sa'nil and sticking as close to him as he can, during the times of intense hardship for Sa'nil, 'protective' means 'be glad he isn't an atyp'. When it comes to Flights, Zenoth will chase Golds, maybe an occasional green. His main loyalty is to Sa'nil, after all, but sometimes there is a lady that laughs at his jokes. He has to follow!
Why me? Sa'nil is a lovely man, and he has every right to be heard. In the traditional roles of the Weyrs in general, the smaller colors don't get much say so. With the shine to his hide and the pure size of him, Zenoth automatically garners the ear of the old-timers, and anyone who tries to ignore him or His get a mind-full of bad jokes and dragon issues.
Even before the incident, Zenoth knew his cheerful rider would need an advocate, a protector outside of his own good will. He is outgoing and plays nice with strangers, as far as reclusive as one could get, and he has absolutely no problem making sure that others know just how awesome he and His are.
Zenoth makes sure Sa'nil isn't run over in the game of life and provides him with the emotional stability he needs on those rare crying days. Sa'nil, in return, gives Zenoth a purpose, and an eternal smile. Without the cheer and love of Sa'nil in his life, it'd be easy for Zenoth to feel useless to have no one to take care of. Sa'nil's cheer? It makes the dragon feel hope. Sure, Valeska is a good person, but she can't compare to a huge shiny brute!
Other: Zenoth was actually written by Noz! SO THANKS NOZ.
