Image here go fetch it loser!
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 #3When 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.
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