|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:14 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]
Honesty is a hard attribute to find
When we all want to seem like
we've got it all figured out
Well let me be the first to say that I
don't have a clue
I don't have all the answers
ain't gonna' pretend like I do
just trying - to find my way
trying - to find my way the best that I know how
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:16 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]A post index is listed over each banner for your convenience.
Please use common sense and abide by Gaia and shop rules.
Refrain from posting here without my permission, unless you have something to drop off. If you do post, please do so ICly.
Feel free to PM me any time with questions regarding my characters. I'm also more than happy to discuss RP or plots.
Page 2 begins journal entries and RP logs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:17 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]
Name: S'en, formerly Selden
Age: 20
Sex:Male (Heterosexual)
Rank: Wingrider, former Metalsmith
Wing: Monsoon
Physical Description:
For all his time spent slaving over anvil and forge, and hauling this and that, S'en never did grow into the hulking mass one might expect from a young man of his profession. In fact, he's of rather unimpressive stature, painfully average in height, and lacking the thick muscle to compensate. He's solid, to be sure, but it's the thin sort of tone that would put one in mind of his being scrawny long before his being robust, despite his even proportions.
S'en's constantly stolid, no-nonsense demeanor and air of quiet confidence are ill-suited to his young features. From his thin brow, to his slight chin and straight, slender nose, he has a smooth face. It doesn't look feminine, exactly, but it isn't masculine either, and he looks too youthful to be overly imposing… Except when he's genuinely angry. His standard expression is a more neutral scowl, and his ocean blue eyes are sharp and often narrowed in seriousness.
It's also rather plain he pays no regard to his appearance. His hair is in constant, disobedient disarray, and he's fortunate it's straight and inclined to be smooth. It's a little on the long side, brushing his nape, and its uneven lengths could easily prove quite the disaster. The color is nice though; it's a deep auburn, looking almost black until the sun hits it, and then it shines a deep red. S'en also tends to dress simply, true to his candid practicality.
Personality:
He's as thick-headed as a draftbeast, and twice as stubborn. On one hand, it grants him indomitable spirit; his determination is fierce, and he can be charmingly dedicated. On the other, he can also seem rigid and uncompromising, and once he sets his mind on something, for better or worse, he's near impossible to sway. It isn't that S'en is impervious to reason, but it had better be sharding good reason, because odds are he doesn't care to hear it.
To that end, he also has a broad defiant streak. A very broad streak. He particularly loathes being told what he can and can't do by those who have no right to be saying so, and invariably meets such… challenges with a 'sit back and watch' sort of insolence. S'en doesn't actually go out of his way to buck authority, and can be pleasantly compliant ─ he's not a deliberate rebel ─ but he isn't one to abide rules blindly just because they're rules. He's not much of a traditionalist in general, and his sense of honor can seem heretical to the stringently conventional. In his eyes, respect is earned, not gifted, and his audacity has garnered some disfavor among craftsmen. Once one has it though, you'll find none more loyal than he is. He's as straight as an arrow, and is unerringly dependable.
As for those who don't… Well, he does have enough sense to know when he really ought to hold his tongue, and he usually listens. He typically listens to orders, too, despite his obstinacy. S'en isn't so set in his ways he doesn't recognize when to pick his battles. Most of the time. He does have a penchant for throwing in his stakes with hopeless lost causes, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit it. There's a certain pride in sticking to his guns against all odds.
He's also far more empathetic than he lets on, and cares deeply about the welfare of others. He even has it in himself to be self-sacrificing. Deliberate self-centeredness is intolerable, and intentional exploitation is unforgivable. In his own way, he's ironically moralistic, and he has more than his fair share of valor. He may not have much else to boast about, but if there's anything he's learned about how to be a decent human being, it's to uphold his ideals, and to do the right thing.
The rest he's not particularly adept at.
S'en's strong sense of right and wrong hasn't given him much in the way of proper etiquette; he's very plain-spoken, and doesn't see the merit in wasting words. When he speaks at all, that is. He is one to say what he means, and mean what he says, but almost never bothers with more. He's even been known to decline remark entirely, if he feels like it. At his best, he's quiet. At his worst, he's icily curt. Pleasantries are mostly lost on him; he tends to see them as empty and pointless, and chokes down formalities only when absolutely necessary. Unsurprisingly, he is not a people person, preferring to keep himself from relying on others, and to keep others from relying on him, and may be accurately described as aloof.
Still, he's honest. To a fault. While others his age are so often taken with sarcasm or lightheartedness, he is earnestly serious, and never did find the charm in teasing or cynicism. It has been said he has no sense of humor, and for all anyone can tell, it might be true. No one can recall having caught him smiling. Not since he was small, anyway. It does make S'en a reliable go-to for pragmatic advice though. While he tends to be fairly apathetic toward matters he considers trifling, if he can be compelled into having an opinion, one can count on him to provide the bare and simple truth. Not that it's easily accomplished. Most things he considers unimportant, and he's quite impervious to whimsy.
Really, he's rather unflappable, impervious to most things in general: emotion and circumstance alike. He makes sure of it. S'en is the sort who wills to be in control of himself at all times, both in mind and in heart. He dislikes the pull the emotions of others have on him, and strives to overcome both them, and his own. And for the most part, in spite of his accursed empathy, he succeeds at it. No doubt thanks to years of practice, stoicism has grown into second nature.
His temper, however, defies him. Certainly, he's capable of suppressing it. He's even typically slow to anger… But his patience is not extensive, and when it's pressed, or circumvented (crossing his ideals, and riling his defiance are sure shots), his 'vexation' tends to be something more fierce, akin to rage. S'en has yet to lose sight of himself, but it's the one emotion he's been unable to dominate reliably, and it disconcerts him. He mistrusts his own self.
Song: The Calling - Our Lives
Pets: None
Other/Talents:
· Was Searched and Impressed at 19
· Despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, S'en's solitary independence is not incurable. He even has it in himself, somewhere, to be a respectable leader, but needs a compelling cause to rise to it. He occasionally forgets himself; it's most apparent in circumstances of injustice. He is a thoughtless ─ and sometimes unwanted ─ defender of the innocent and deserving.
· Beasts seem drawn to his quiet, calm, and stable nature, and he has a fondness for them he prefers to keep largely unknown.
· Over the years, he has also spent a fair deal of what free time he has practicing secretly with the weapons he helps create, and has developed some skill with the knife and sword.
· He has a few noteworthy, amusing quirks: he dislikes the taste of wine (even Benden's), and is particularly terrible at dealing with compliments and positive attention, for example.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:17 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ] Before the Weyr:
Selden's childhood was normal enough. Sure, it had trials, and he supposes he had growing pains, but didn't everyone?
His started off in a minor Hold near Crom. At best, his first three turns were uneventful. He was born to Smithcrafter Adenar and Seleas, his homemaker wife, and spent his subsequent days as all babies do: eating, sleeping, and asserting he wanted to eat and sleep. His fourth turn brought a sister. She was stillborn. His parents were devastated, and though he was too young to remember, their attentions toward him doubled, as though they feared they'd lose him too. He never did gain any siblings, but he was raised a contended, if sheltered son to grieving, adoring parents.
From the time he was old enough to walk without jovial bumbling, he spent much of his day at his father's knee. The assistance he provided was negligible, and his presence in the forge was certainly unconventional ─ not to mention dangerous ─ but nobody ever posed too much objection. Adenar wouldn't have heard it, anyway. People always did say Selden took after him. And so he grew, inheriting a curiosity for smithcraft and learning about these things called 'ideals'. He carried on that way until his fourteenth turn: hauling bits and pieces in the minor hall, interspersing his chores with obligatory Harper teachings, and overall spending far more time acquainting himself with responsibility than with other children.
That turn brought a jarring upset to his everyday. It was time, Adenar decided, for his son to start down the path of a real Smith; the boy was obviously inclined toward it, and plenty ready. Despite parental grief in parting, he was sent to be fostered and apprenticed at Telgar proper, and quickly discovered he was nowhere near as ready as his father thought.
He was quiet and awkward; the sort of child to be more at ease in the presence of a job to do than in the company of others. Without a doubt, Selden would have stuck to his lone self if not for some timely intervention.
Purely by chance, he happened across a smaller boy, roughed up and involved in a tussle with a few others. He was obviously losing. It was his first encounter with his protective instincts; unthinkingly, he rushed to aid, and the two of them were able to fend off their adversaries. The boy ─ Toran, he learned, and a fellow smithcraft apprentice ─ was a fast friend, despite Selden's mostly solitary nature. Toran took to following him often, and though he wouldn't have admitted it even then, a companion made acclimating much easier. The pair of them glided easily through the next turn, adapting quickly to new tasks as they were presented, and finding time to sneak off on their own clandestine adventures.
Selden's next prominent brush with his own nature came on a return from one such excursion. It had been a quiet evening, calm and full of stillness in the wakes of holders calling an end to their days. He shouldn't have been out in it, and knowing that made him all the more determined to make it back to the Hall undetected. He should have been more determined. But anyone could have heard the cries over the ebbing din, and even the dimmest wher would have known what they meant. Selden did the only thing he could; he followed them. He followed them until he found their source: a frail girl, no older than he, burying her face in her hands, trying to drown out the sound of her own sobs. He knew her as the daughter of a merchant; the one whose stall was often just down the way. Still, he wouldn't have had to recognize her to discern her abuse. Grief gripped him. He swore to her he'd do what he could to help. Selden was fifteen then, and full of confidence; he was positive he could manage something, despite her nervous protests.
The something he achieved was not at all what he had expected, and was further still from what he had intended. Her father, the primary pillar of stability and protection in Selden's own home, had not been at all sympathetic to his pleas. Quite the opposite, he discovered, the moment he felt the man's drunk rage. He, young and innocent then, was ignorant and a fool. His own family, small but loving, had never taught him of the world's harshness. It was the first time in his life he'd been struck by an adult. Even the broken girl, through her wracking sobs, chastised him vehemently, swearing he'd only worsened her plight.
He believed her.
Selden had been adjusting well. There were even moments it had seemed like he was learning to be friendly and social. He went through a complete reversal. He withdrew into his own company, rejecting even Toran's presence and dissuading the boy's persistence. With time, they drifted apart. Selden, confused and rattled, sought refuge in his apprenticeship, throwing his heart into his work with single-minded fervor. He advanced quickly, taking to emphasis on weapons in his later stages of apprenticing.
He would have walked the tables in his next turn, had he not been Searched in Telgar. He was nineteen; old enough to have come to terms with the idea that what he was doing would be his path for the rest of his life. The proposition made him uncertain, at first, and if asked, it's unlikely he could say why he went, even now. Maybe it was some lingering, childish allure, or maybe he still had some hope he was meant for something more. Maybe he left simply because he felt like it, impulsive in a moment of weakness. Whatever the case, he won't admit it, even to himself.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:18 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ] Name: Kanath ─ After Kanaloa, the Hawaiian form of a Polynesian deity generally associated with the sea.
Color: Bronze
Past Stages: [dragonet] [weyrling]
Personality:
Kanath is an easy-going, sensible dragon, never one to make much ado over nothing. While some might accuse him of being too laid back, he'll say he's really just quite secure in his sense of what's important, and what isn't. He isn't fussy, preferring to take things as they come, and isn't prone to fretting. S'en appreciates his pragmatic, grounded nature; it doesn't grate against his lack of patience.
It should not, however, be mistaken for laziness. This bronze is very forward in his ideas of practicality, and isn't shy about telling His what does and doesn't need to be done. He's exceptionally confident, rarely doubting himself, and acting the matter-of-fact, often unappreciated voice of reason. He seems to find particular amusement in reminding S'en he's being hopeless, posing as something of a counter to his penchant for the impossible, and giving him the push he needs to remember to be human. This includes ferreting His out of the social hole he's dug for himself; Kanath isn't abashed about calling his solitary tendencies as ridiculous as he sees them. Unlike his bonded, he enjoys company, despite his tending to be a little on the quiet side.
His assertiveness also means he's not afraid to take charge in a situation, being comfortable with his position as a bronze and with making decisions, and prefers to have control when circumstance allows it. He can be overly forthright, when it comes down to it, and does butt heads with his rider on occasion. Though he's not typically demanding, it still takes a strong will to keep him in check; he sometimes has a fiery demeanor, and his obstinacy can rival S'en's. When he is reined in, though, he can be made to see the value in letting someone else take the helm, turning him into a willing and able cohort. He's as quick and responsive following as he is leading, working responsibly as part of a unit.
On the same hand, he is not a dragon to be blindly pushed around. Kanath doesn't appreciate being badgered, and doesn't suffer aggression lightly. He's not a bully, but neither is he spineless, and he will assert himself ─ with force, if need be ─ if he's properly convinced he's in the right. If His or a queen aren't involved, he isn't one to back down willingly, and can be difficult to dominate, if only for sheer perseverance.
Fortunately, his shortsighted, draconic ambition doesn't lend itself to selfishness. Kanath is actually rather caring; his assertions typically reflect his general good will, and his desire to keep His out of trouble. Through his protective nature, he instinctively sees it as something of a duty to be chivalric, and is continually looking out for his rider and for others, regardless how unwanted the effort might be. In someone else, S'en would compare the tendency to that of an insufferable old mother wherry. In his dragon, it's tolerably endearing.
The same is true of his unlikely sense of humor; he's not as lighthearted and bubbly as his general outlook might suggest. Kanath is actually rather frankly spoken, not unlike His, though he tends to be more dryly teasing than deadpan serious. He's fairly clever, for a bronze, and is not only able to see the irony in circumstance, but enjoys pointing it out for the sake of his own amusement. He will sometimes state the obvious for the same reason, to S'en's mild exasperation.
Like it is with most things, it's difficult to get him terribly excited about Flights. In something closely akin to apathy, he takes little interest in greens. When he does chase, he's disinclined to be overly ambitious for all but the most captivating gold. His lack of biological motivation isn't something he's fussed about; he finds it simply doesn't matter, and prefers swimming or soaking up his rider's attentions. Threadfall, however, is another matter entirely. If anything at all can rile his vigor, that's it. Driven by instinct, and his desire to protect, he is an ardent fighter, willing to push himself past his own limits.
Song: Bliss - Not Quite Paradise
Other:
· Kanath strives to show His it's okay to care. He knows there's a heart in there somewhere, and he's proud of it.
· S'en's covert displays of affection amuse him, and he occasionally enjoys reminding His he's a fine dragon, and a fondness for him is nothing to be ashamed of.
· He's also been known to neglect mentioning important details, improperly deeming them trivial, to S'en's still-loving chagrin.
· Why me?
Kanath is drawn to S'en's fierce, inwardly passionate nature. They are as alike as they are different, feeding off their strengths and balancing their weaknesses. Where rider is overly stoic, dragon is calm and caring. Kanath forces S'en to rediscover the merit in his empathy, emploring him to finally let go of his shell. At least every once in a while. Likewise, His provides the means for Kanath to see beyond his immediate interests, teaching him temperance and patience. Sure, they both have more than twice their share of confidence. S'en's defiance combined with Kanath's force is nothing to sneeze at. They're bound to disagree when is and isn't the appropriate time to lend a helping hand, and will invariably push themselves too hard too often, but they have much growing and learning they can do together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:19 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ] Poor Winath. It had been hard not to notice her, with her brilliantly colored hide and beautifully jewel like egg. But that was okay. People were returning their attention back to the object at hand, which was the increasingly dwindling amount of hatching eggs. Most of the clutch seemed to have Impressed now, and if it was a small one, it had still given some strong personalities.
Another large egg was trembling, and people leaned forward in evident anticipation. What would come out of this one? The clutch hadn't had any bronze dragons thus far, and everyone was hoping that at least one would break shell. But would one?
Ah yes... The first peep of hide showed. It could have gone either way, really, but the egg was large and the dragon that emerged was larger still. How did he even fit into that cramped space? He was most certainly a bronze, and everyone turned forward to stare fiercely at the young men, waiting to see which one the dragon would go to.
The dragon didn't seem to share everyone else's concern for time constraints. He got to his feet at an almost leisurely space, stretching out his cramped wings so that they shown in the dimming light. It was hard to believe that hours hadn't gone by. Everything happened so quickly, yet so slowly. It was not yet full dark, but it would be very, very soon. Would the bronze make up his mind before the sun went down entirely?
While slow, the bronze was decisive. He had none of the wavering of his siblings. He was straight as an arrow, making a clear shot, though careful not to step on or shove others roughly. A considerate dragon with a clear goal? Oh yes, this was a bronze all right! A good example of his species, if it was any indication.
S'en mine, I am your Kanath. We will go far... but only if you feed me first.
--
All feeling of numbness and automatic motions ─ pulling on the ceremonial white robe, tying on traditional sandals, moving out with groups of Candidates and observers alike ─ end as soon as Selden actually hits the hot sands, banished entirely as he gives an equally involuntary bow to the Queen. The sensation replacing them is not what one would expect, however It oozes none of the excitement-fueled anticipation. There's no hope. No longing. The emotion awakened in him doesn't really even deserve to be called positive; it's ill-suited to the joyous occasion of a Hatching.
It's more like an outsider walking in on a sacred ritual. A distinct feeling of displacement, like he shouldn't be here, without any of the adrenaline of a mysterious, clandestine adventure. The thrumming is a loud, unpleasant buzz in his ears, and the sands seem somehow hotter than they really are, as if the Weyr itself urges his departure. He meets it as he does most things he feels are trying to force him into something: with an obstinate frown and a defiant resolution. He left everything and traveled across half of Pern to be here, and by the shell, he's going to stand! Just this once.
But shards, nothing could reinforce his discontent like each cracking shell does. The intense wonder of Impression made is lost on him; every one is a stake driving a wound in his stubborn pride, magnifying his awkwardness and redoubling his annoyance with himself. Not even the small, beautiful dragonets and happy applause can sway him. Selden's place is in Telgar, at the Smithcrafthall, doing what he knows. He's good at it. He shouldn't be here! The excited, smiling atmosphere only seals it. He belongs here like a sailfish belongs in the middle of a Southern desert, and he feels like his presence here somehow dirties this foreign, monumental occasion.
And then, tumbling onto the sands, a bronze gathers his feet and stretches his wings. It would mean nothing to him ─ it's a dragonet, as all the others before it had been ─ but this one is different. And no, not just because he's bigger, or more deliberate than his clutchmates. It's not because he's so painfully careful and considerate, but because this one chose him.
Selden doesn't shy away when the newborn nears. He doesn't even dare to move, as though this might be some absurd, ridiculous dream, and his breathing might somehow shatter the fragile moment.
S'en mine, I am your Kanath. We will go far... but only if you feed me first.
The voice in his head ─ not his voice, but someone else's ─ jars him from his momentary stupor. The dam he built inside himself breaks, and a flood of emotion washes over him: a sense of completeness, contentment, belonging, and yes, hunger too. But perhaps most overwhelming of all is his strong feeling of undeserving disbelief. Why him? Why, out of all the boys standing alongside him, had this creature chosen him? There are none on the sands less grateful, and surely none less worthy to be here than he is. Why hadn't he chosen somebody else?
I am yours. You are mine. I know, the creature tells him. Selden ─ S'en, now ─ wonders how something so young can sound so certain.
Kanath is content to wait as he digests this Truth. He will; he knows that too. And when he does, maybe he will put an end to this terrible, consuming hunger. He is so awfully hungry…
Finally, S'en regards the dragonet. Really regards him; his dragonet. He allows himself a wholly inward smile. Yes, he's glad for it. For Kanath. His coming here had been very brash and entirely stupid, but now he wouldn't change it for all the world. The little bronze greets this acceptance with an affectionate rub against the young man's hand, and at last, together, they turn and make their way to the feeding tables.
Someone, somewhere, laughed in S'en's face today. And for once, he doesn't mind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:20 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ] People
Annelie
S: Awkward girl. Seems harmless, though.
K: Yansanth's.
Berjint
S:
K:
Gh'lan
S:
K: Khunoth's.
Kyllae
S: Talks too much. I didn't ask for your life story. And don't touch me.
K: n/a
Nandeli
S: It's none of your business. Honestly.
K: No opinion.
T'loa
S:
K: Niyath's.
Dragons
Khunoth
S: Gh'lan's.
K:
Niyath
S: T'loa's.
K:
Yansanth
S: Annelie's. Strangely affectionate. And noisy.
K: Confusing, but also very nice.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:20 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]
[02.01] Hatching [Tropical Fish]
[02.02] Post-Hatching Feast [Tropical Fish]
[02.03] Party All the Time (Kyllae)
[02.04] Value of a Smile (Gh'lan & Khunoth)
[02.05] The Right to Remain Silent (Nandeli)
[02.06] Weyrling Lesson v.1 [Tropical Fish]
[02.07] I Can Has PlayTime? (T'loa & Niyath)
[02.08] Curiosity (Berjint)
[02.09] Bright Ideas (Nandeli & Reneneth)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:21 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]Where are the pictures?
"There aren't any."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:22 am
[ title · index · s'en · history · kanath · impression · relations · logs · scrapbook · credits ]S'en, Kanath, and all writing related to them and their personalities belongs to me.
All the Weyrs of Pern and shop related artwork © Leikkun
All other artwork © their respective artists
Dragonriders of Pern © Anne McCaffrey
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:23 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:24 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:25 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:25 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 7:26 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
