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 Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:21 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:22 pm
History:
Vesresh was always a happy child. No dark shadows (that he knew of) troubled his life. He had a family he adored, and a few lovely agemate friends in the Creche, and lots of toys to play with.
When Vesresh was four years old, the older sisters he adored and looked up to had themselves transferred to Igen Weyr, leaving him and his brother with his parents in Benden. He never forgot them, in part of course to hearing news of them from his parents, but in his mind, they became larger than life – heroes that would one day sweep him away into their world of adventure.
Only later did he fully understand the reason for them leaving, but he never felt abandoned. He grew up with heroes in his mind, having creative and intense adventures in his mind starring his sisters and their dragons as the heroes. He read a lot of stories, and drew a lot of doodles, and generally grew up in such a way that there was talk about maybe getting him some Harper training.
When he heard that his sisters were coming back to Benden for a big political meeting thing, Es was delighted. He hadn't seen them since he was four, and only remembered them vaguely as real people. In his head, they were the heroes from his daydreams, beautiful and strong and amazing.
Seeing them in person, he was not disappointed. Though they were not as they were in his daydreams, they were even more wonderful in reality, and he soon became very attached (reattached) to them. So of course he jumped at the chance to join them at breakfast with the family. He even woke up early to do so, hopping impatiently (and fully dressed) as the rest of his family dragged on clothes.
The happy reunion was cut short by the terror of the massacre. Everything happened fast and, crying horribly at the chaos and his own fear, Vesresh found himself dragged and pulled and tugged and suddenly on a familiar dragon and held by a familiar person.
He did not watch as the ground fell away and they took to the air, cuddling to his sisters chest as the cold of between engulfed them.
When he found himself 550 or so years in the future it was difficult for Vesresh to comprehend it. Being suddenly without agemates or friends in the creche, he drew closer to his family, shying away (at least for the time being) from the strange new world around him...
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:23 pm
Name: Vesresh (Esre, Es, or Resh) Age: 11 Gender: Male Rank: Child (Weyrbrat) Appearance: XVesresh is a thin kid of an average build, neither scrawny nor bulky. He typically wears unremarkable, simply-made beige clothes, though they look like they are in good condition, are of good quality, and relatively new. His skin is pale for a kid from Benden, though he clearly spends a lot of time outside as he is covered in a liberal dusting of dark caramel freckles. His eyes are wide and are dark blue in color. They are very clear, if distant, with that gem-like quality some eyes have. Face is smooth and rounded, but promises to get more internal structure and definition as he gets older. Personality:Vesresh is not a brave boy. He prefers safety to novelty, and is often found sitting alone because talking to new people feels a bit too much like risk. This is not to say that he is antisocial – far from it. He wants to talk to people, in fact he feels he should. People – new people, kids his age, important people... pretty much everybody is intimidating to him and he can't get up the guts to go over and initiate conversation. In other words, he's shy, and the massacre and time jump have not helped. When he does talk, he's pleasant, if awkward. He is a bright boy, from both the words he chooses and his ability to do well in his lessons. He is very creative as well, often doodling fantastic scenes in a ratty little sketchbook. Currently, only fantastical, though – drawing from reality has only ever led to frustration and anxiety for him, and he has enough of those emotions (especially anxiety) in his life. Vesresh is a very emotionally attuned boy under his shyness. He doesn't have mood swings, but he feels and expresses his emotions strongly. He is very attached to (and in fact adores) his friends and family, and openly, often physically affectionate to those he cares about. Family members will be frequently kissed, pets snuggled, and friends hugged. It is always appropriate, of course, and he will quickly learn who wants what. His attachment to people can, at times, seem like a little too much, and he will follow people around and is definitely dependent on others for his emotional well-being. Especially after the time jump, he sticks to people he knows like a shadow. He is also jumpy, often anxious and easily upset by both trivial and not-so-trivial matters. He cries a lot (for joy as well as sorrow), especially when he is alone. Physical comfort helps him calm down, and a hug from a family member goes a long way. From these traits, he can seem somewhat cowardly, and he is – he prefers to hide than to fight, and would rather someone else do his fighting for him. He idolizes his tough Bronze-riding sisters, however, and sometimes will try to emulate them by standing up to tougher people. He usually does not succeed. A trait he shares with those sisters is that when he starts something, he finishes it, even if it brings only upset and misery. Despite his nerves, he is not a quitter, and if he has to find someone else to help him do whatever it is, he is not afraid to ask. That is, of course, if he manages to get up the courage to approach. Having a motive or goal helps. Standing in the way of this determined diligence is his tendency to let his mind wander off on imagined heroic adventures. Sometimes they star him, usually they star his sisters or his brother. Frequently, he can be found staring off into space, smiling softly as he daydreams. When called back to reality, he is typically sheepish and disappointed for being so distracted, but he does enjoy them, especially now that reality is so strange. In general, though, Vesresh is a good boy. He is not a troublemaker or an instigator. He's just a sweet, scared kid.
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:24 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:25 pm
Relationships
Name – Rank (NPC or not?) - Description
What he thinks of them
Vesin– Igen Wingsecond (Past) – Vesresh's older sister. He adores his 'Heroic' sisters equally, but of the two, if he had to pick favorites, it would be Vesin, for reasons he does not entirely know.
Kelilayth – Looks to Vesin -
Vosin – Igen Wingsecond (Past) – Vesresh's older sister, he holds her and Vesin to incredibly heroic standards.
Tiaeth – Looks to Vosin-
Vesrik – Candidate – Esre's brother...
Nersha – Weyrmistress of Benden (Past), High Reaches Queenrider - ...
...
Sereth – Senior Queen of Benden Weyr (Past), High Reaches Queen - ...
...
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:31 pm
LogbookIn progress Help from Lofty Hands Still Here New Beginnings Abandoned Complete Brave New World Comfort in Family Welcome Home Waking up from the Dream at Last Comic Book Clutch Hatching
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:32 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:33 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 3:34 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2014 11:06 am
Welcome Home
Esre's arms felt bereft without something to set down as he looked over the small living space he would soon share with the strange adults he had met only a few days ago.
And a few days before then, he had been a normal boy in the Benden creche, visiting his parents on occasion, and excited to see his sisters. He had counted the days until they were to arrive from Igen, and had imagined their encounter in every possible circumstance, in every possible way. Or so he had thought.
He'd daydreamed about them sweeping him away to Igen, or into a grand and heroic adventure that would see him wielding a great sword against a terrible foe. Or, maybe, that they would buy him an apprenticeship to a harper school, where he would uncover dire plots and save beautiful maidens from uscrupulous villains. Or maybe, arrive just in time to save him from a rockslide. Or... just take him flying or Between.
He had been so excited to see them, even if they would be in meetings that were political and far over his head. He knew – had known – that they would be there to spend time with him, and his brother, and his parents.
But instead, they had swept him away to another time.
He nudged at the bedroll the kind couple had provided. It wasn't bad: softer than the bed he'd had in the creche, but not as thick as the beds in the infirmary. He looked around him at their home, with it's quaint decorations, cloth dividers (for privacy), and it's clothes chest.
They had told him that they would be back later, but that he was free to settle in. He knew – in that way that you knew when something unsaid was still there – that they expected to see him at their meal, a meal they ate early because of their jobs. He was sure they wanted to talk to him more, and he didn't mind: they had seemed like nice people when he'd met them.
He just... wanted to be home, not here. He wanted to be with his sisters, not them.
Since he had nothing but the clothes that had come over with him, his foster family had set out fresh clothes for him, and he gladly changed. He felt the worn lining caress his skin as he slipped it on and buttoned it, and noticed it's subtle differences: the color, the make, the thread that comprised it. It was odd to see how even simple clothes were different, here and now, and Vesresh wondered why that was so. Why would his clothes – hand me downs from older crechemates – be somehow different than these, equally old, clothes?
Because they were not equally old. Because his came from somewhere and somewhen wholly foreign. He hugged his old clothes to him and breathed in their smell – his smell. They needed to be washed – badly – but somewhere within the stench of his own body he could smell that last, struggling scent of home.
He sat down, abruptly, onto his bedroll and cried into the old garments.
It was a home he would never return to.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2014 5:03 pm
Waking up from the Dream at Last
“Vesresh? We have something for you.” Said Lumahr, the chef. Esre looked up from the book he was reading – an old story that he had read again and again, it's timeless familiarity comforting to the displaced boy. He blinked curiously at his foster father. His foster mother, Kammen, was there too. They were both smiling, and he considered it a good sign.
“What is it?” Esre asked, closing his book. Other than the effort required to read, he felt dazed, his brain cooked from school and his body exhausted from chores. He knew that when he lay down to sleep, it would be simple, and he would slip right into oblivion until he was woken up again. It wasn't how he wanted to live, of course: he wanted time to enjoy himself, like any young boy did.
But it was nice in its own way, because he didn't have to think about what his life was, or wonder about his parents, or his sisters. He saw them infrequently now, but that was no different than before. What was different was that he wanted them more now than then. Sleeping helped.
“Well, we heard you was a creative brat.” said Lumahr lightly, “And I know the harper personal-like. You're gonna stand for a clutch someday, but maybe you'll be a harper if you don't get yourself a dragon, and far be it for me or Kam to stand in your way.”
Kammen nodded. “Aye. So we went and asked 'im what would keep a bright kid like you occupied, since, y'know...” her smile faltered, “You've been through a right lot n' all. An' he told us to get you something.” she brought back her grin, broad and kind, “So, Vesresh.” she pronounced his name oddly, her High Reaches accent still odd to the boy's ears. “I'll ask ye. What have ye been pining for since ye got here?”
My parents Vesresh thought, but he knew that it wasn't the correct answer. “My... sketchbook, Ma'am?” he asked, folding his hands politely in his lap.
She beamed at him and brought her own hands out from behind her back. Cradled in her hands was a sketchbook – paper simply bound on a backing. It was cheap - it's threads and covers were of junk leather and it's paper was second-rate - but to Esre's widening eyes, it was better than gold or gems. “Oh!” he said, taking it. He ran a hand over it's smoothness. For it's newness, it could almost have been his sketchbook, the one he had left behind in his room back... then.
Of course, it wasn't. It didn't have his sketches of his family and crechemates, or of the flits and wherries he saw every day, or of the scenes that his imagination cooked up from stories or from it's own depths.
Even so, the empty pages beckoned, calling with sweet voices to be covered with charcoal and graphite marks.
“Th-thank you...” he stammered, feeling his eyes tear up.
“Can't forget these.” said the chef, presenting some charcoals and a rub-out eraser nub, “I got them from that harper there, and he said this is what you use...”
Vesresh couldn't help it. He began to cry, squeezing his foster father in a hug. “Thank you...” he said, weeping, “Thank you so much...” For the first time since the time jump, Vesresh finally felt like he had his life back...
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