Rider
Name: S'lar (Previously Siludar)
Age: 26 turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Previous craft/rank: Journeyman Healer
History:
Siludar was Weyr-born with all that entails. It never bothered him that he didn't have a definitive family group, and there was nothing more he enjoyed that being part of a large group and working together with a clear purpose. A responsible child, Siludar grew up with an appreciation for order in all forms and a good work ethic. He also grew up, as many weyr-born children do, with a almost fanatic appreciation for dragons. However as a child he was small and shy never building up the courage to ask about being a Candidate, or even put his hand up when the riders came round asking. Instead Siludar spent his free time just helping out where he could, enjoying being helpful to those who'd raised him. He never really took to anything terribly well, though he played with the idea of being a herder for a while as whilst working together with a purpose was fine he wasn't particularly social, and herders lived a more solitary life than other professions.
At eleven turns, Siludar still hadn't made a definitive choice. Even most of his peers who wanted to Stand had a backup profession in mind, but he still spent most of his days just being a general dogsbody, not that he saw any problem with it. More often than not, Siludar helped out in the Healer's quarters. He had a knack for detail and an accurate memory as well as a patience rare for his years that lent itself well to helping prepare poultices or washing bandages. He never really considered it as a career choice though, until one day whilst preparing a balm for dry skin he heard screaming. He hovered, unsure what to do - he wasn't even an Apprentice Healer, but he knew that one of the Journeyman who usually helped the weyrhealer was out visiting a master (of what craft Siludar wasn't sure - it didn't really interest him much) who was near to full term. He dallied for only a moment before gathering numbweed for chewing as well as a numbweed poultice in case the patient couldn't chew and a bowl of lavender oil antiseptic and rushed to the source of the screaming.
It was one of the Weyrlings. They'd been taken out to practice firestone today and it looked like he'd been burned. His skin was almost bubbling and the weyrhealer was struggling to keep him stilleven with assistance of the remaining Journeyman and a pale-looking Apprentice. The Weyrhealer opened his mouth to bark at Siludar, most likely for appearing when not summoned, but then saw what he was carrying and voiced his appreciation instead, telling him to "come quickly for shards sake - good initiative, boy!". It wasn't the first compliment Siludar had had, certainly not. The weyr was a good place to live, after all. But it struck Siludar strongly. He fetched and carried poultices and cold water all afternoon till eventually the patient dropped into a fitful sleep. He was covered in sweat, his arms and legs ached from carrying water and he was covered in dirt with scraped knees from the time he'd fallen over in his haste.
Despite all of this, he'd never felt so useful. The Weyrhealer came out, cast an appraising eye on the small, scruffy child in front of him who hadn't thrown up, hadn't cried, but had simply got on with what needed to be done. (Siludar was shaking a little now, but he was after all, a child.)
"How old are you, boy?"
"Eleven turns, sir."
"Come again tomorrow and we'll get you set up with an apprentice uniform."
It was quite possibly the best day of Siludar's life. He threw himself into healing with a devotion that became a matter of amusement among some of the other apprentices, though he was happy to help anyone who was struggling. There were difficult patches of course - whilst some things came easily to him especially on the academic side, he never really stopped being a little awkward socially and bedside manner was a thing he didn't really possess. It wasn't that he was intentionally mean, more that small talk didn't come easily to him and he tended to go on at length about things he was interested in, including medial techniques that made some people a little green around the gills.
Seven turns passed, and he achieved the rank of Journeyman. His scrawny frame hit puberty and he grew tall and slender with the same gentle features, and perhaps most notably his childhood blond remained although darkened a little. Gentle ribbing for his looks ensued but in truth Siludar found it useful - he was tall enough to reach all the top shelves without being imposing to his patients. And of course, it made finding trysts somewhat easier. Like many a teen he experimented with both men and women, though his preferences soon became apparent. In truth however, he was far more dedicated to his work than any romantic inclinations. He was particularly interested in trauma medicine, including both burns and general accident-related work. Several of his peers went on to Impress dragons - others after a few tries decided to take up alternate professions. One of his agemates decided to work as a Healer, and whilst he was behind Siludar in skill and knowledge he was pleasant to be around and they spent many afternoons discussing techniques together.
Siludar's life would likely have continued that way, if it hadn't been for what one could call chance, luck, or destiny. Whatever the reason when the eggs were due to hatch he was in the beginning of a relationship with the aforementioned Healer - lazy afternoons had turned to lazy evenings and companionable mornings filled with adventures in cooking along with medical discussion, and whilst he had long given up his dream to impress a dragon his lover still enjoyed watching them hatch. Siludar had never been to a hatching, a little sore perhaps that his younger self hadn't had the courage to say he wanted to stand - or simply too absorbed in his career. They sat in the Stands together, hands clasped and faces full of excitement. (Even Siludar's, who was renowned for remaining placidly calm at most times.)
The eggs cracked, dragons scrambling out of their eggs and heading with determination towards their chosen bonded. Most of them were down on the sands, a variety of ages - Siludar noted one tiny child, no more than 12 turns at most, embracing a young green dragonet. The expressions of wonder on their faces was amazing to see. To the surprise of both Siludar and many others, the next green dragonet to hatch bypassed the candidates completely and headed to the stands, almost barreling people over when they didn't move to find a muscled young woman who almost cried with joy. Siludar remembered her - she had stood for a number of years but like many had eventually dropped out, unable to face repeated dissapointments. She'd been in the infirmary a few times too with fighting-related injuries.
There were only a few eggs left now, not counting the Atypicals who were being helped to hatch. One rolled on it's side, cracking as another green dragonet fought her way out. The remaining candidates perked up but the dragonet wasn't looking for them. Two Stand Impressions in one day? Siludar sat back and blinked. Unusual enough that one would happen, let alone two. People cleared out of the way easily this time as the green walked. She was small even for a green, although less hasty than her clutchmate, trilling at people to get them to move rather than shoving her way through. Siludar smiled at the dragon, wondering who had gained her attention. And then something happened that would change his life forever. The dragonet turned in his direction and suddenly he /felt/.
And what demand there was in that statement - but behind that there was a kind of acceptance Siludar had never known. It was as if she knew everything about him, down to the tiniest good and largest flaw and accepted him for it, knew his limitations and intended to help him excel them. He moved almost without meaning to, disentangling his hand from his lover's but unable to speak or console him about the confusion. He dropped to his knees in front of the dragon that now owned him, body and soul.
"You know me."
That was all he could voice, and even that cracked in the middle. His dragon's eyes whirled as blue and green invaded the hungry red (and he could feel that, feel the throb of hunger) and even as she spoke again to him he was looking towards the arena for a food supply, towards where the other candidates who had been Impressed - and he'd always thought that word a strange choice but now he knew it to be wrong because this was beyond a mere Impression this was....well, this was everything.
And so Siludar became S'lar of green Araneth, and what was once the happiest day of his life was eclipsed one by one as every day watching her grow and talking to her and being with her was better than the last. There had been six greens hatched this time and they grew closer and closer as their dragons grew and prejudices against greens became more apparent. S'lar especially took to the the young boy he had watched impress on the sands, V'i - whilst he was shy beneath it a clever brain lurked and they played many a game of strategy together, many which S'lar found himself losing. And Araneth and Sayenith got along well too - picking out faults in the larger dragons flying was one of their favourite activities.
The relationship he had had petered out. Perhaps if they had been together longer it would have survived, but even then a stress would have been put on it - his lover had stood for years and not impressed, and to have S'lar who had never even stood impress because he had brought him to the stands...well, it was crushing to say the least. And with a new hatchling on his hands S'lar had little time for a relationship anyway. He barely even visited the healing houses where he had once spent all his time, too caught up with Araneth and his blossoming friendship with V'i. S'lar had never found himself being particularly paternal to anyone, but V'i made him act like an older brother in ways he barely understood.
Not that he didn't get on with the others. In truth the six greens clutched together soon became a formidable team, every spare moment spent practicing their flying and then later flaming because in each of them burned the passion of equality. For some it was a loud fight, for others a quiet, and each of them had their own reasons for it. For S'lar it was not the treatment of himself he protested - he'd had his fair share of ribbing over the years for his features after all - but the slurs upon Ayaneth, insinuating she was weaker some how, less worthy, for being a green, for being small and agile and unable to clutch.
And so he fought for her, for justice with her amused commentary and warmth in the back of his mind and speed and agility underneath him. In time the quintet were assigned to different wings to try and break up their shenanigans. But despite that, despite the fact that S'lar spent more time now on punishment duties than playing games with V'i or reading or even helping in the healing houses, he didn't, wouldn't, couldn't give up.
And then Keller came with his whispers and his promises, confirming what they all had thought. S'lar had had reservations - they all did. But in the end he looked to Araneth, now fullsized with those same whirling eyes - but so very small. Small in a way that made people look down on them all the more and it was decided, then, wasn't it. Because what else moves a Rider like their dragon?
Description: S'lar is perhaps a little taller than average and quite slender, albeit he's bulked out more now since becoming a rider. His long, straight hair is a pale blond colour and usually tied tightly back in a plait if he's working, though he wears it loose otherwise. His eyes are a grey shade of blue and his skin a pale tone that burns and refuses to tan. He also has sideburns, though they’re usually covered up if his hair is loose.
Personality:
The first thing of note about S'lar is that in general it takes a lot to get him worked up. Besides his crusade with the Bolts, very little seems to concern him immediately and even rude or personal questions are fielded with a dignity that begets most often shame in the person asking. Unflappable even in a crisis, S'lar's past in the healing houses means he's excellent at both stifling any panic or worry he might feel as well as prioritising correctly. This occasionally extends to delegating efficiently which sometimes gets him in trouble - a green rider should know their place, after all. This is one of the things(possibly even the only thing) that does work S'lar up easily. He has strong morals, especially concerning what he sees as injustice or opression. Growing up the weyr means he often has little place for Hold prejuidices and this can make him unpopular with the hold people he talks to.
Not that he talks much. S’lar was never a social person to begin with and being one of ‘those bloody green riders’ made him even more unpopular. S’lar is more the type to have a few close friends than many shallow friendships. He keeps most people at a distance, both emotionally and often physically – neither being demonstrative or a great believer in unneeded physical contact. Whilst he does enjoy relationships he finds it difficult now to keep them going – those without a dragon often struggle to understand why they must always come second best, and those with a dragon often disapprove of his general conduct.
Despite his general dislike for socialising, S’lar does enjoy looking after people. He’s always enjoyed order and purpose and community spirit so whilst normally people are regarded as a non-interest, as soon as they become sick or upset he’s there trying to make them feel better. Even those people S’lar doesn’t usually get on with aren’t excluded from his fussing if they fall unwell. This amuses Araneth heartily and you can usually tell if he’s fussing unneccesarily from the fact her eyes will be swirling almost neon green. Relating to this, S’lar enjoys interacting with children, especially because they’re much easier to socialise with than adults – far more straightforward.
Among some of the youngest weyrlings it has become somewhat of a game to try and get S'lar to react to anything they do. He's remarkably tolerant of this game and if one were to observe they might find him smiling occasionally at these antics. S'lar is very fond of children and teenagers alike, forgiving of their mistakes in a way he doesn't extend often to older people.
We’ve already spoken of the fact S’lar enjoys purpose. This means that he also tends to get very antsy if he’s got nothing to do – not overtly or even visibly, but doing nothing sits ill on his mind. It’s not usually something that comes to any fruitition however because in a Weyr there’s always something to do, especially since he became a dragon rider. Even in his downtime though, S’lar is usually found reading books regarding interests such as dragons or healing and not fiction, or polishing his mind through strategy games. He also doesn’t like laziness as a character trait and this is something else that can make him frown.
Actually there are a lot of things that S’lar isn’t very tolerant of. Whilst he stays calm throughout it, it’s far easier to make a bad impression on him than a good one. Combined with his excellent memory this makes the rider hold grudges long past the time they are due to be forgotten. This is an example of another one of S’lar’s more unfortunate traits - whilst his intelligence is useful it does make him a little arrogant and sometimes dismissive of those he considers ‘beneath him’ – though he doesn’t think this consciously and would be horrified it he realised it.
Overall S’lar is a calm, intelligent rider who has a few antisocial tendencies and who believes passionately in his beliefs - primarily people should be judged for themselves, not whatever prejuidices people apply.
Other:
Dragon
Name: Araneth
Age: 8
Colour: Green
Size/build: Very small/slim
Description: Deep green base. Brighter green belly/mouth/underside of tail. Mediumdark green eye markings and tail blocks like a red panda. Crests darkest green. Wings dark green with space like patterns. Eyes blue/green whorls. Dorsal stripe like buckskin horse, dark. Leg ‘socks’. Rough ref-scribble!
Personality:
Like every dragon and indeed every person, Araneth is complex. More complex than some certainly, and probably less so than others. Like many a sentient being however, she does have a defining trait – and that trait is determination. Araneth likes to see everything to it’s close and hates leaving things unfinished or undone. Often this is a very beneficial trait – not one to rest on her laurels she’s constantly striving for improvement. Jobs assigned to the pair are done neatly to the best of high standards, they never let tiny details escape them, and even punishment duties are completed with dedication. However. Determination is a double-edged sword, so to speak.
Like her rider, Araneth isn’t fond of being idle. She wants to be doing something all the time! However, being a dragon means that often she can’t be doing something all the time. This extends to training sessions. Araneth will be the dragon pushing to keep going even when her limbs are shaking and her mouth hurts from so much chewing. S’lar is a good match for her in this respect because he knows when she should stop.
Here we visit another of her traits relating to determination. Araneth doesn’t like being told what to do and often thinks she knows best – even when she doesn’t. This problem with authority doesn’t extend to situations where it would cause danger to others – she knows when to buckle down and just do what she’s told such as during threadfall or important practices, but it does present a day-to-day problem because she’s supposed to do what she’s told. She’s a green, for shards sake! Thankfully for the sake of the weyr, she does listen to S’lar who has a community-minded head on his shoulders and an appreciation for both order and hard work.
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate order. It’s just that she thinks the way they do it is wrong. Like S’lar she thinks people should be judged on what they do, not what colour they are. Unlike S’lar, she’s much more vocal about it, and less willing to behave in a ‘proper’ way.
On the other hand, Araneth has numerous positive traits that are often overlooked, and not just physically. Whilst somewhat impulsive, her instincts about a situation are usually good, and she’s much better at reading people than her rider. Her instincts have often gotten S’lar out of a situation which could have ended badly – both socially and otherwise. In general, Araneth is much more social than S’lar and pushes him out of his bookish, solitary ways. She enjoys the company of pretty much anyone as long as they aren’t too bossy and is accepting of everybody’s quirks, large or small.
But despite Araneth’s tendency to chat with anyone, she doesn’t bond with many. Dragons aren’t terribly social creatures, and even though Araneth is more social than most her loyalties are few and far between. First to her riders, second to the Bolts. When she does make a bond however, Araneth is devoted to it. Loyal to the extreme.
And Araneth knows herself as she knows S’lar, aware of her faults if unable to completely counteract them. She’s secure in herself and that confidence is something that can be very useful.
Other:
Why did this dragon choose their rider?:
S’lar asks you this, but only once. You know he says it because he is honoured and grateful and slightly drunk but you bristle anyway because he doesn’t understand by insulting himself he’s insulting you. Even intoxicated he seems to have realised he’s hit a sore spot and apologises, pressing his head to yours. You settle, eyes whirling back into more comfortable colours. You think about how to tell him but he falls asleep against you after a tiring day. You tuck a wing round him, cuddling him close and warm, but you think about the question anyway.
Why did you choose S’lar?
Inside your egg you’d felt those for the touching, felt their hopes and dreams – all so big, so large.
You didn't connect with any of them. When you hatched you had been empty.
And then you felt someone.
When you found S’lar he hadn’t hoped for anything. He’d been content to serve others in the healer hall to the end of his days. But beneath that a fire burned. Banked, plugged with moss to make it sleep. Waiting for tinder so it could roar. You had wanted to be that tinder, to make him blaze.
But It’s not just that that drew you to him. You’re headstrong, almost reckless. S’lar is cautious, measured. Many of the candidates would have just folded beneath your anger, or let you push yourself too hard and you’d have burned out. Continuing with the fire metaphors, S’lar’s slow-burning. He reigns you back in when you go too far, just as you push him out when he doesn’t go far enough. You balance each other.
He needs you, but he didn’t want you and didn’t feel he deserved you. Didn’t have a desire to ride dragons and be a hero, didn’t have dreams of being the one. The candidates like that disturbed you, a little. But S’lar wasn’t needy and desperate – and you were afraid to bond to such hooligans, really. S’lar was like a balm you suppose. The calm in a storm. Clear, cool water.
S’lar has a sense of duty, but he can’t stand injustice.
He knows what to do in a crisis.
He, like you, doesn’t like to be lazy.
He wants to work on imperfections.
He’s your perfect counter, lends you control whilst you give him energy and fire.
Really you could say many things about why you chose S’lar.
But in the end it doesn’t matter because you chose him because he’s yours.
Prompt #3
When the fighting is over, S’lar sits slumped across Araneth’s form, blood oozing slowly from a gash on his arm, and spatters speckle and stain his clothes. It’s not the only injury from the fight, but it’s certainly the most pressing. He can see bone underneath and his mind is nattering away that it needs glueing or at least stitching and probably disinfecting. The throb of his arm is matched beat by beat by a tear in the membrane of Araneth’s wing, shot by some kind of arrow. They wait there, pain lost in the dizzy shock of revolution and victory, and the agony of loss.
Sayenith and Estath have gone between. V’i and L’roh are dead. And Fayneth is dead. They knew their would be casualties in the revolution. They’d even prepared for it, a little. But for a gold to fall, so soon after the death of a Crimson. They’ve won but S’lar wonders a little if it was worth the cost. Their thoughts whir and tumble, a clock pulled out of sync.
But heavy thinking is taking it’s toll. S’lar is weak with blood loss and battle fatigue. Araneth’s tail is wrapped round him tight enough to bruise and her eyes whorl in colours that warn others to keep back. Eventually another of their team-mates will find them. Or perhaps Kellar or one of his lackeys.
For now they simply sit, unsure what to feel. Joy or loss. Agony or peace. But whatever happens they will face it together, the six of them now.
