Name: Luthradi Age: 17 Gender: Female: identity has become more genderfluid as she's gotten older, but currently will identify as female. Prisoner: Yes Crime: Asaulting a Dragon Watch Officer, Placed in Unstable Pop due to clear mental and chemical issues Candidate: No Former Craft/Rank: (Former) Apprentice Harper
Appearance: Luthradi is slight and scrawny. If she ate more than prison rations, she might be an averagely pretty young lady. She doesn't eat nearly enough, and wishes she could take a few walks, but she at least tries to pace in her cell when she can. She is, generally, average in appearance. She has sandy-toned skin, Thick, straight Black hair, tilted wide Brown eyes, a short, medium wide nose and decently full lips. Her fingers are long and delicate, and something about the angles of her face structure, how she holds herself, and her thin frame give her a sense of repressed elegance. In the red jumpsuit, she neither looks good nor terrible, simply nondescript or average, and her hair is kept cut at a boyish length, by her request as well as to prevent any hair-related injuries. There is nothing in her face, body, or manner to suggest that she is Unstable.
Personality: When you look into Unstable Block and see Luthradi, you wonder: Why is this kid even here among the crazies? She's fairly sedate, stays in her cell, doesn't make trouble for the guards when shes not in it, and is even polite and suitably, sane-ishly grateful when baked goods are snuck in. The only odd thing that a cursory glance would reveal is that she's older than her seventeen turns. Acts older, behaves better, THINKS better. She is quite glib to mindhealers, and a conversation with her reveals a grown up understanding of how the world works and a clever mind behind that. She seems perfectly sane.
A deeper conversation, with her trust won, reveals the truth: She is a danger block resident without the danger. She has everything but the violence of those inmates lurking behind those passive eyes. She's clever and manipulative, and full of plots and plans, with a charisma that is more on the easing side than the commanding side. She just isn't going to turn those into murder or assault... usually, and that alone wouldn't have her placed in the Unstable block. In fact, she probably should not have been placed there when she arrived, though screaming her innocence out to the world while under detox didn't exactly help her case.
Except for one thing. She is obsessed with revenge. She might not have been so obsessed when she entered Warden's Weyr after her treatments, but as she's lingered there it has grown nearly consuming. Insanity is not infectious, no, but Luthradi is impressionable and justice has not dealt her a good hand. Behind that quiet face is a tiger, waiting for the day when it can finally destroy the one that put her in there- her own sister and the entire cartel.
It would be wrong to say that 'not a moment goes by' when she doesn't think of the series of events that put her in there. She was an apprentice harper by trade, a storyteller by specialization. She loves to write and tell stories to the guards, and loves the highly-supervised drawing, writing, and reading time granted to her. But she thinks of her sister's betrayal often and of the crime she witnessed. She won't ever forget it. Even though she has stopped protesting her innocence in the crime she was accused of- assaulting a dragon watch officer while under the influence- she knows that, in the future, she will be guilty of far worse, as she will not let this injustice slide. She's been in Warden's too long and is full of too much simmering, solitary-seasoned righteous wrath to conceive of any other less dark and criminal solution.
Still, that rage is against a particular person and organization. To all others, she is fairly placid and reserved. She is social, but she has, as many do, moments when she desires solitude. Her favorite activities are reading, taking short walks while outside, and telling stories.
She has a deep respect for mindhealers, and is extremely cooperative with them even though they have ensured that she remain in unstable at least for the time being. She may be diabolical and full of tricks and turns, but their eyes are too keen and she has no desire to hide her burning, obsessive, desire for revenge from them.
She's scared of it herself. She knows she will do wrong and will probably end up back in Wardens with a REAL murder rap or worse, not some debatably false assault charge that wasn't her fault if she did do it. She is confused, ultimately, and- though she doesn't go so far as to reveal her plans- the question on her lips is: It feels like it will be the right thing to do, and it is just, but is it right because it is just? She has held that question back for now, but is looking for someone to answer it for her.
In sum: Luthradi is a brave young adult with a creative mind and a bruised moral compass confused by her desire for revenge.
Neutral: Optimistic Creative Highly Private (yet) Highly Social
Other stuff:
~ Her family's Cartel is bribing guards at Wardens to make sure she's 'comfortable' (amenities, books, art supplies, the occasional cookie, the harsh dealing-with of bullies), and have also planted evidence to make her seem 'unstable' so that she will be discredited and so that they dont have to silence her. They may also be bribing mindhealers to keep her there. Whether she knows this or not is debatable. The irony is that she is becoming... destabilized.
~Speaking of, I've left some interesting plot hooks with Linthrade and the cartel. If theres a chance in the future, I'd like to at least have Linthrade NPCed.
~ I adore her and she needs so much RP... I'll just have to find a way.
~ Also looking for connections for her.
Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2013 9:52 am
So it seems I am to keep a journal. The mindhealer claims that it will help him, and I do wish to make their job easier. They have quite enough to deal with re: the others in this block. I do see the benefit in this exercise, and I suppose I have occasionally wanted to keep a journal. It might also be good practice for nonfiction writing. My name is Luthradi and I must admit I am somewhat confused as to why I am in this situation. I am sane, though there are days that I wonder. There were days that I protested my placement, but the white room has cured me of such protests, if you can call such a thing a cure. Excised, perhaps. I am certainly not the same as the prisoners I reluctantly call my fellows. I am, for one, quiet and do not require such things as a straightjacket. Although I must be shackled when taken to the mindhealer, I am at least allowed some limited time with my books and some charcoal. Supervised, of course. The shackles are a formality that I endure. I endure because I have some dignity, and I endeavor to not cause trouble. It has been a turn since the White Room impinged on my senses and forced me to molt my childhood like an old skin. I do not wish to experience that again. I am sane you see. Rational. Logical. Calm. Many here, they are calm, but then they erupt, like a feline or a volcano. Me? No. I will remain calm, I will remain composed. I must.
I know of some people, not here but shackled in the sister block, the Dangerous block who also seem sane. Rational. I know that they are sly. They see people as tools and toys, and they use them. They play with them. And then, they hurt them.
What worries me is that I, too, am sly. People are not quite toys or tools to me, but their hearts and minds are malleable.
But I am not like them. I am sane. I am harmless. I would never hurt anybody.
But sometimes I wonder. My cell is solitary. There is much time for wondering, for thinking, for longing. I wait in great eagerness for each hour outside, I wait in equal eagerness for my supervised reading and writing time. I wait, often, and I take what opportunity I can to speak. I have seen the silent ones. They speak to nobody but whatever lurks in their heads. They only grow worse. And soon, they break, becoming creatures of this dark world of cells- their minds are too damaged by their internal musings to return to the sunlit world.
If I am wrong, that I am not sane, that I am somehow ill in some way I cannot see- as I sometimes wonder about my assertions- then I wish to be well. I do not want to, myself, be banned from the outside. I do not want to stay in this cage forever. A while longer, just a while longer, and maybe I can be free. But what then?
History: (At least two paragraphs, please consult the timeline when writing)
Luthradi never thought she would ever be in the sort of trouble she ended up being in.
Her life was, as far as she knew, normal. Family seemed all right: Her father, Rannod was a healer and her mother, Luthas, was a... Well, Luthradi wasn't ever sure, but never thought to ask beyond the first few queries. Why should she? Life was good in Ista Hold, Money wasn't in short supply, her family was happy, her parents loved her, and she and her fraternal twin, Linthrade, were close friends. They both knew that their talents lay in separate things, and Luthradi left to study as a harper (12). She wasn't sure what her sister was interested in, but didn't bother to find out, so intrigued was she by stories and, ironically, by investigative sorts of stories. She returned home (15) to participate in a gather and her own birthday, which happened to occur at overlapping times- how could she not go home for that? Things started off great. Her family was happy to have her back, The food was good, the party was good. But, like many people, she needed a break from the action. She took a walk, like she often did, with the sounds of the gather still echoing in the night air. Thats when she heard it- an argument. She was intrigued, being nosy, and slipped closer.
Two men argued. She wasn't sure what it was so she edged closer until she could see them by the light of the glows. A smaller man was pleading with a big man. Claiming he didn't have the money, honest, and he was out of dust and his last customer was going to get the marks, honest. The big man wasn't buying it, and remarked, with a predatory growl, that he didn't need streetrat sellers who were taken in by addled dusters. Luthradi watched in shock as the bigger man stabbed the smaller man and stomped on him until the barely audible screams died away.
She ran, calling for the watch, only to be stopped by the big man. Up close, he was huge... and familiar. He was Uncle Ranris. He had taught her how to make a kite. He had told her excellent stories of beastcraft and tannercraft. Why was he here, killing? "Oh shards." He said, "It's little Luth." She squirmed against his grip, "Knew this would happen someday. Lets get you home"
Kicking and squirming she was returned home and dumped on the floor.
Surrounded by her family and insisting that Uncle Ranris was a murderer and she needed to tell the watch, her voice was stilled by the sad, yet hard looks in the eyes around her.
"Luthradi, We have something to tell you." said her sister, kneeling down beside her.
The truth came out. All the money and good living Luthradi had taken for granted came from Crackdust and other drug sales, as well as other forms of organized crime. It was the family business, and it had been kept from Her and Linthrade... and Lin had found out about a year before Luthradi had decided to become an apprentice harper.
Luthas ran it, and Linthrade was to be her successor. Luthradi... was supposed to never know. But that was unrealistic, and they knew that now.
"Luthradi, you can't go to the watch. We're family. We love you. Don't make us take measures."
Luthradi agreed not to go to the watch. She lied.
Later that evening, she snuck out, using all of her wiles to slip away unseen and to find a dragon watchman to tell her story to.
She forgot she was dealing with family. Though they had hoped she wouldnt talk, they knew that she would, and it was with a heavy collective heart that they had her tailed.
She was intercepted, an arm holding her back. She struggled, bit, fought, and broke free, running to where she knew the guards patrolled. She called for them, but as they approached, her world went... strange.
She hadn't noticed the p***k of a needle, hadn't felt the drugs enter her system before the thug released her. All she knew was that suddenly her world was confusing and scary. She thought she was begging and pleading with a dragon watchman who was suddenly some sort of stone momument. She thought he didn't listen, so she said it louder. He grabbed at her and she flailed at him. This is all she can remember of the fogged and blurred event that had her sent off to wardens and accused of assaulting a dragon watchman.
Detox was hell. Everything hurt, things she didn't know could hurt hurt. She screamed and cried and weeped, proclaiming her innocence of any crime. Didn't help her at all. Even after the drugs had left her system, her pseudo-violent fits of frustration continued (whether they were actually there, caused by drugs slipped into her system by bribed agents, or misdiagnosed by other bribed agents is unclear/up to GM), and she was placed in unstable pop.
The frequency of her fits decreased when she was moved, and she ceased having the fits altogether after an unpleasant stint in the white room.
(16, 17) (Current) After that incident she spent her time in the unstable block as peacefully as possible, trying not to get too much attention or cause trouble.
What she really, really, wants to do is get out of Unstable Population and be in a position to plan her eventual revenge. It's been a nasty two years, and she isn't going to forget this. Not at all.
Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2013 9:54 am
I will say this now. I do not belong here. I believe that I did not do the crimes I have been accused of. I did not take any drugs, nor did I attack anybody, and certainly not a member of the dragon watch. But... My memories are hazy and uncertain. Yet I know I did not! I would not have done it! Could not have done it! And yet they say I did. They have brought forth a man with some injuries who does indeed have a dragon. And they say I caused them while on crackdust. I did not. I would never have even taken a single wisp of the stuff. ESPECIALLY now that I know the truth.
Its my family, you see. The people I love who, I thought, were the most wonderful people in the world. My mother, my father, my sister- my own sister... Devils. The lot of them. How was I born into a nest of rats such as they? They live on the suffering of others. They suckled me on the suffering of others. I did nothing. But it has become obvious to me over this long Turn- so much time to think, you see- that it had to be them. They are the reason why I am here, locked in a cage. Why they did not kill me, I cannot comprehend.
Perhaps it is so that, caged like a songwherry, I sing alone. For them to hear, enjoy, and pity. I sing my song of innocence and of wrongs that have been done to me. Caged in this nest of screams, all the watch and the guards hear is my voice among many who sing alone. Even when I am telling the truth.
I'm afraid I don't remember much of our meeting, except I'm not entirely sure I like this man... Still, i don't really have that luxury.
Bronze Mikhaith
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Warden Weyrlingmaster V'tyai
The warden of our block was not a bad guy. I do not understand why he was demoted? Could someone perhaps have caught him smuggling us treats? I did appreciate that, and its a shame that he is no longer here. I hope he's doing well.
Blue Ogbanuth
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Prisoner Arkady
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Warden L'iv
I have not met her. Why would she have need to talk to me. I am sure she is quite good at her job, and would like to not give her reason to talk to me. She is likely not as... nice... at V'tyai.
Brown Howlith
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Weyrwoman Ai
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Zamanateth
If she is the cause of the headaches and rage, than I would like her to go away and leave us in peace. We have enough trouble already.
Guard Jamarin
I don't like him. His smile, his face, his manner... all of them unnerve me. Much as I love to talk, there is a point where I would rather be silent, and he is very close to that point. Why does he scare me so?
Blue Jamisk
His wher, however, is wonderful. It's nice to meet something so unconditionally... sweet.
Prisoner Machi
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Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2013 9:56 am
Roleplays
▧▧▧ Introducing Myself ▧ - A short chat - Jamarin and Luthradi ▧ - To keep the Darkness at bay (Luthradi, Machi) ▧ - Twisted ▧ - Brilliance?
My new mindhealer asked me an interesting question the other day. 'What do you want to do?'
I find it interesting because I am not sure what I can do. I am locked away. None take me seriously, except when I get perhaps a little upset. It only takes a little for them to notice. I try to not even let that much slide. The key is to always keep my hands visibly harmless. It comforts them.
Hands are for another page of this book. They mean so much, to so many.
The question of my goals remains, and I have only so much time to discuss them.
I want to get out. That much is definite and clear. I want out. I want to be free.
I had a future before. I would be a harper, a teller of stories, a writer of tales. It is what I do, really, even now. I'd like to have that future back again. I would even keep quiet about what I know. Nobody would listen anyway. They would blame it on a spell of insanity, perhaps. Or on the 'delicate nature' of a woman, which I suppose I am. It is a future I can see sustaining me long into later life. Perhaps my stories will be the richer for this long captivity. Has it only been just over a Turn? Truly?
But, that future is a ways away. I do not know if I can attain it. There is another alternative that draws at me. Justice. Justice was not served, and is this prison not a nest of justice? One could argue that there is no justice, that this place is a farce, that the white room is a cruel travesty of humanity.
And this argument makes it tempting to take matters into my own hands. When I get out, if I get out, what if I rebalanced the scales? I can only assume that Linthrade and hers have extended whatever operations they had. They are the reason I am here, they thrive on the needs and suffering of others, on blood, sweat and tears. What could be more just than taking them down? Is it not my responsibility to do so, as her own blood? As her very sin? I don't know if it is hate or wrath that drives me towards this goal, that keeps me awake at glows out with its seductive whispers. It may be a cooler emotion. Something logical, something vengeful, something I cannot name and that I never thought myself capable of. Sometimes I dream of infiltrating the organization or whatever network that serves as my family... as Linthrade's roots into the foul mess of suffering that sustains them. I dream of slowly going deeper and deeper and finally dealing the final blow, destroying the scum I call family forever. It is so tempting. So delightful. So right.
But it is murder, isn't it.
Is it right? Is it what I should do?
I have these two ideas, these two dreams. Perhaps they are not mutually exclusive, but also perhaps they should be.
I need a second opinion on the matter, another voice that does not come from within. That voice is wise, but not always the one to listen to. No. I need to ask someone, at some point, for advice.
But who?
There is still much time. Three more Turns, or about, until I have a chance to leave this place. A single chance to have a future and a life.
I met my new mindhealer today. I have the routine down now, introductions- the usual fare. Name, former occupation, crime. Find some information out about them, so that I know what I'm in for. Try to get them talking and delay them realizing what I'm doing- this usually isn't too hard because everybody likes to talk, and I like to listen. Then, when they remember their job, tell them the bare, truthful minimum. Then, ask about news of outside- the prison, their homeland, Pern, anything. Then comment honestly, or at least positively, about their office. In other words, show them that you are sane, that you are a part of their reality. Mention writing, don't mention stories too much. Don't mention any problems. A first session is assessment. I'm not sure how I feel about this one. He seems older than the others. Maybe he will last longer. He was also hard to read. Perhaps some Harper training? He did seem to perk up when I mentioned I was an apprentice Harper. But he needs more assessment. He is not why I pick up pen and paper to journal, not draw tonight. I met a guard in the waiting room, a most talkative wherhandler named Jamarin. It seems he is posted there, or something of the sort. Though he made for good conversation, he was far too familiar and he smiled far too much. I have seen many smiles since I have come here. Not all are pleasant. Many are sad. Many more are angry. And a few are simply grimaces. His is the sort where the shape of it is pleasant enough, but it is only an unreadable mask hiding his true emotions. While I believe he wouldn't harm me without cause, I am unsure of what he would consider 'cause'. I have the same wariness that I feel around some of my compatriots in chains. They would kill with less provocation than any guard. In fact, they have. From what I was able to gather, this Jamarin was a seacrafter and a miner, as well as a thug and then a guard. He may also have worked for the Watch. Yet he has no dragon? Well, some handlers work for the watch, I think. There just is something about him that brings up my defenses, something indescribably off about him. Unfortunately, since he works there, I will run into him more often. I will have ample time to assess him. But having to interact with him is mitigated somewhat by the fact that he does talk, and that is something at least. And also by his wher, who seems to be the most guile-less creature on the face of all Pern. It was a pleasure to meet the Wher, at least. I do not wish to write too much here and use up all of my precious time with my books and writing. I have a new chapter in mind, and I at least want to start it. Here is to a future that should be interesting. Or at least not dull. And full of analysis. Something, at least.
Brilliance?- 447 words I bore witness to a fascinating event today. I am aware of Brakiheth's run, but I have never truly seen a queen fly, but today, barely visible from the window of my cell, I saw her. Her great roar and the smell of blood signaled the start of her flight. Was it a smell, though, or an illusion of the mind. Either way, I saw the Warden, L'iv, take her leave and the other guards milled nervously. So of course I had to see what could have gotten them so riled. She was barely visible, this streaking speck of sunlight, but I saw her fly, and my heart soared with each swoop and dive. My hands longed to write, inspired by this violent muse- I hear that the gold dragon bit another dragon, hard. I also heard that she courted blues... this is unusual, I hear. What a momentous event, something I must write about.
And so I write, composing an ode to this dragon who brightened my day. I know the first stanza, and the last. It is simply a matter of the rest of it.
I am the bloodied Warrior queen I care not for color or sheen Only your strength matters in the air So fly me, Fly me, if you dare.
I am the fire of the sun There can only be one Flame. Claw. Rip. Tear. My claws will rake you in the air.
Come to me, ever bolder As my fangs sink in your shoulder Woo me not with words in vain Only blood shall scream your fame.
I am the fire of the sun And there can only be one Whos ichor shall rain from the sky? All who fight for me must try.
By tooth and talon: fight each other! To win my favor slice another Fight and fly; or fall in shame Dragons: Prove yourselves worthy of the name!
I have a problem with the ending, and also with Stanza 4... but in all, I think it is a good start to what may be an amazing poem.
Seeing it now gives me hope that maybe, even after two turns in this... hell... I am still a harper. I am still me.
It is time to go, but I am glad to put this aside for now. I will look at it later, and perhaps see what I can edit. Unless I am further inspired, of course.
Perhaps I should copy it and send it to the weyrwoman? Perhaps I have a chance of leaving this place, if I play politics a little. Yes. There is hope. Thank you, Gold Zamanateth. You'r fierce flight gave me hope.
