Age: 46
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Rank: Journeyman Healer/Wingrider
Description:
Ten years of war and hard living forged Malta into a lean and muscular woman. She is on the short side of Pernese average and the training and exercise regimen that she has fallen into keeps away her natural inclination towards pudginess, though she is not too thin for her own body structure.
She wears simple clothes. Although she prefers nondescript clothes or Healer garb, these days she always carries a weapon – a sheathed sword she earned for herself in a duel which she is not particularly proud of. Other than her rank knots, Malta prefers to be unadorned save for a pair of reading glasses that she keeps safe in a special case at her chest.
Her hair is thick and heavily greyed, a salt and pepper reminder that she used to have very dark hair. It has a slight curl to it, but she keeps it shoulder length at most and ties it back when she's busy.
The war was kind enough to let her live, but she did not escape unscathed: she has scars on her body – one on her right cheek, a deep one on her shoulder, and a few criss-crossing lighter ones on her chest and left leg. She keeps herself covered up for unrelated reasons of modesty.
The most obvious scar, though, is her expressions. Her face is neutral, her brown eyes haunted, guarded, and intense. Large smiles are now a rarity, and it shows in the careworn wrinkles that crease her face.
Personality:
Malta has come a long way from being the shy, mousy, inconspicuous little chubby girl that she used to be. Now a grown woman and a survivor of war and Thread, she has become something wholly different – a woman forged into steel by constant hardship.
She is still quiet, though, and dedicated to her work in healing and teaching. A natural workaholic, she keeps ironically unhealthy hours and would never sleep if her dragon did not remind her. It is fortunate that she loves her work – work has always been there for her, her antidote against troubled times and her own fear. She will treat anybody who comes in injured, be they human, flit, dragon, or wher. Teaching is a newer passion, but she approaches her duties as an assistant candidatemaster with the same vitality and verve as she does her healingcraft. Very little of her time is spent on herself, and that is how she likes it. Her dragon, however,
Life is hard, but Malta fears little these days. Life in the Wherholds and years of war and strife beat much of her old fear – of herself, of others, of social interaction – out of her. Now she has new fears – the safety of her husband and children – but she finds that she can manage those fears better than she once could. For the most part, whatever threat they may face, she knows she can handle it.
That is the greatest gift that the long war has given her – confidence. It took her dragon decades to finally instill some in her, but it was the war that forced it to thrive: There was no room for cowardice and uncertainty in those rough years, and she had to finally grow a spine and survive.
Malta and her dragon, Poecileth, are very, very close. Their relationship takes on a very mother-and-child approach, where Poecileth is protective and caring towards her rider, and Malta is appreciative and affectionate in return, but it is much more complicated even than that, as dragon-human bonds often are. Poecileth is a poweful mind, her stability and confidence frequently leaking into Malta's mind. Time was, she was all that kept Malta from cracking under the pressure of Thread and strife. Now, Malta is capable of holding her own against her strong-willed dragon and able to be her own support in these ever trying times... but she will never want to be. Malta and Poecileth are – very rarely – seen apart, though the outward and obvious displays of affection are rare and fleeting. Just as she no longer is timid, Malta simply isn't as open as she once was.
She's not completely jaded, though: At her core, Malta is a sweet person, generous and kind. She's learned to guard her heart carefully, but it's still there in her gentle touch and her obvious kindness. Though she may hide it, she is an optimist, generally convinced that things work out for the best, and she doesn't give up on this hope.
In direct opposition to that, however, is a deep suspicion of the motives of others, particularly those in charge. Malta has not had very good experiences with her leaders, and is unwilling to take them at face value. That she is now a leader in her own right does not escape her. Malta is no longer a pushover – she is her own woman and she knows what she is doing. She will follow orders, so far as she agrees and trusts them. And when she does not, she is very willing to say no when she has to.
Other:
On Dragons: Malta adores dragons – dragons and children will always get a glimpse of the sweet older lady behind the more severe exterior, and she is always very gentle towards them.
On Whers: Malta grew up around whers, and was a part of the wherhold. She has little fear of them – even when she probably should – and thinks they are wonderful creatures that, often, deserve treats. That she had to fight a few of them in the War makes little difference.
On the War: It was not a good thing, and it changed her and her world immensely. There is no going back to how things were, and in some ways, that is a bad thing. However, she also met her husband and had two beautiful children because of it, and she managed to survive... all of which are very good things.
On Threadfall: Human or dragonkin enemies are one thing, Thread is a wholly different beast. Malta is glad that she no longer is forced to fly Thread in the main wings, or feel guilt at only taking on Medic duties. The flamethrower wings, the medic role, this suits her much better.
On Flights and sex: Poecileth does not fly often, but Malta no longer has to worry about her feelings during Flights. She has a husband now, and if she chooses to let those feelings take over, she has somewhere to go.
History:
Malta was the baby of the family, born to a large, loving family of miners and wherhandlers in a mining hold. Her looks were not spectacular, but with a virtual cadre of tough brothers and sisters and some whers, she managed to survive without much teasing for most of her childhood. Unfortunately, mining towns are dusty and they played havoc with her respiratory system. She had frequent allergic reactions and asthma attacks because of the air, and her parents and siblings worried about her often. In an attempt to get her out of the bad air, they had her stay in the hold itself and help out there. She became close with the healers there and started helping them almost exclusively. Her family noticed and, after some discussion, funds were scraped together to send her to a healer hall to learn the craft.
She was very afraid of being in a new place, and was very shy. However, the clearer air did wonders for her breathing and, aside from the occasional cough, she was healthy. Without the fatigue and coughing brought on by respiratory problems, she thrived in the classroom, being an exceptional student. She seemed to drink up the information in the books and hides and given by her teachers. Staying up late was a frequent occurance, either because she was doing homework, looking something up, or so absorbed in what she was reading that she lost track of time. During her apprenticeship, she excelled in the classroom and in an assistant capacity. She even sometimes found the courage to ask questions about the information. After class, of course.
She was very shy, and away from the protection of family, she was exposed to teasing and unkindness about her appearance. She wasn't very pretty, and as she started to hit puberty, it did not come gracefully. She did not end up making many friends her age, preferring the milder company of books and older and wiser people.
When she was Searched, she was less than happy: in fact, she was very upset. Despite the teasing, she felt safe at the healer hall. It was where she belonged and she was happy there. But she was too timid to let the dragonrider know, and he was so nice... she just couldn't say no.
At the Weyr, the teasing and cruel remarks became exponentially worse, and she was not fond of the other candidates. A lot of them were older, and she felt alone and vulnerable among them in the bunks. Again, here, the classroom was where she excelled. She was a quiet, good little student, but again she was too afraid to ask her questions in front of the class, preferring in person conversations when she could get up the nerve to ask them. Malta liked what she learned here, and she had a candidatemaster who treated her well, but she yearned to go back to the nice, safe, healer hall.
That is, until the new clutch on the sands was ready to be touched. Malta found feeling those minds still in their shells such a pleasant experience that she even tried to sneak onto the sands to touch the eggs again. She got caught and ended up in trouble, but she didn't actually regret trying. Touching the eggs made her more comfortable with the Weyr, and more excited than terrified for the hatching that was to come.
She probably should have been terrified, though. The bronze sire was a known agitator and when the hatching day came, it was a particularly violent hatching. 30 candidates and two hatchlings were badly injured, and three candidates lay dead on the sands. The unexpected violence – especially after so nice a Touching, was more than jarring for Malta, and when a hatchling charged right for her, Malta was too scared to do more than trip over her own feet and whimper as the hatchling bore down on her, clearly not caring about anybody else between him and His.
Fortunately for Malta, Poecileth managed to shake free of her shell. She stood between them, and Malta was only aware of one word:
Malta's life changed dramatically. Poecileth rarely left her side. Strong willed and loving, Poecileth was the confidence that Malta didn't have and the strength she needed to do the brave things that other people took for granted. Through her weyrlinghood, Malta began to, at Poecileth's encouragement and endless patience, come out of her shell and talk to others. Though still shy she started to feel more comfortable with other people. Poecileth spent a lot of time investing in relaitonships and friendships among their fellow weyrlings, friendships that were beneficial to both of them.
When Poecileth grew up, Malta studied under the Weyr's well-regarded head healer. Although she was an almost obsessive student and assistant, she had trouble choosing a specialty. This, and not being taught at the Healer Hall, delayed her journeymanship. Eventually, she walked the tables into journeyman practice, continuing in the nursing capacity for a time while she and Poecileth weighed their options. Eventually she became a general practitioner – a job that worked well with her duties as a dragonrider in a time of peace.
Having finally found her place in the world, she was happy for the seven years she worked as a healer. In that time, she grew into her own body, gained confidence, and even had some marks set aside for a comfortable future. She even fell in love, and was being persistently and properly encouraged by Poe to 'go for it'. Unfortunately, she never got the chance.
When Thread returned, she - as an able-bodied dragonrider - was called to service. Though bolstered by Poecileth's confidence, both dragon and rider soon noticed that they did poorly in drills. In their first Threadfall, they were able to affirm it - the pair were just not built for this fight. Malta tried to do her job as a dragonrider, but the stress was too much for her and she teetered on the verge of a serious mental breakdown. Of course, her dragon intervened before that could happen.
At Poecileth's suggestion, Malta began working at the clinic. Although she had no free time to spare, she didn't want any. Malta wanted to do what she loved, and if that meant she had to spend all of her remaining time doing that, so be it. It was a gamble, being an additional source of stress, but it actually worked out for her. Healer work was not the same sort of work as dragonrider work, and that difference was enough to balance her life out and keep her from cracking under the constant threat and pressure.
When the revolution came a-knocking, she was actually at home visiting with family, a rare refuge from her life's hardships. So she actually had time to think about her choices. Poecileth was intrigued. The revolutionaries pledged a merit based system and, the more the dragon thought about it, the more she realized how unfair the old system was. She liked the sort of changes that were happening and wanted to be a part of it, perhaps nudge it in the right direction here and there.
After completing their family visit, they went back to their home Weyr and joined the revolution. They soon realized that they had made a few miscalculations- the duels, the general atmosphere of hostility, and the ever-present violence of the Wherholders was not a healthy environment for Malta. She managed to find solace, again, in the clinic. Out of necessity, she started to edge towards dragonhealing (for whers and dragons) as well as human healing, which at least distracted her for a while with the wonders of new information. Poecileth, though she felt terrible for putting Malta in such a situation, decided that the revolutionary cause was still worth a try. She quickly began networking, trying to surround Malta with as many friends she could count on to protect her as possible.
With the comfort of general healer craft to sustain her through gruelling flight drills and with carefully cultivated friends to help her through everyday life, Malta managed, somehow, to survive. Years passed, and she managed to settle - somewhat - into the stressful, unforgiving life of a rider in a wherhold.
Banshidheth's clutch marked an important turning point for Malta. With the influx of young dragons, she was no longer required to fly in the upper wings, actively fighting Thread. Instead, in the light of her particular set of skills, she was assigned to medical duties. She did much better in that capacity, acting as emergency support, search and rescue, and an extra set of hands (and wings) in the infirmary.
Then the tragedy of Queen Sharath occurred and, with it, came full, blown-out war. For Malta, the Wherwars were both terrible and also, strangely, good for her. Her role as a mobile medic made her invaluable, and she found herself and Poecileth carrying healers, injured, and supplies. She even fought, becoming injured as Benden fell and carrying what people her also-injured dragon could manage to the relative safety of Malvren.
Poecileth would have preferred there to be no horror at all in her rider's life, but she found she could not stop it. Her displeasure with what the revolution grew into something she could no longer ignore. Though her rider did not want to rock the boat, Poecileth became heavily involved with the resistance against Keller's rule: this was not the revolution that the green had hoped for, and she felt it was time to make a change.
When the attack on Malvren came, Poecileth was busily sabotaging. Malta did not like the coup against the coup, but she knew she had to help her dragon. They sequestered supplies, hiding them for the rebellious forces. They fought, even the usually pacifistic dragon fought. They tore into former friends, and were torn apart in turn, Malta had lost many friends in the process but they survived and were able to see Keller cornered and, ultimately, killed.
In the chaos and confused repercussions Malta was forced to disappear with a few allies into the wilds. Struggling to survive despite their training, they eventually merged with a nomadic holdless troupe who – though suspicious of dragonriders and any authority – grudgingly welcomed her skill set, additional fighters, and assistance in finding shelter from Thread. When the Rogue Queens rose and began harassing Hold and Holdless alike, the troupe that Malta joined began to fight back with all their held-back distrust of authority. Malta joined in, but it was clear that they stood little chance against trained dragonriders and gold dragons who no longer followed any code or set of rules. Fighting turned into sabotage and hiding, but their numbers and resolve dropped to the point where they had to leave the area.
The troupe managed to make their way to safer lands, but Malta had had enough of wandering. Among the holdless she had met a shady ex-murderer and fallen inexplicably in love. She had borne two sons by him, who she also loved. But the way of the Holdless, being ever on the run, was no longer for her. She – and the dragons and riders that remained with her – longed for the security of a single place they could call home. She heard that Trine might take them in and so she, the others, and a few holdless that had gotten attached to their guests (including her husband and children) broke from the group and turned towards Trine.
Malta was confident when she began the necessary process of making her way into Trine Weyr. Her past as a Wherholder and the company she had kept for the years in between worked against her. Only a few years ago, she would have backed down under the pressure that Trine's authorities subjected her to. Now, however, she stood up for herself. It was, ultimately, the battle experience of her and her allies, their actions against the tyrant Keller, their experience against the rogue queens, and their varied and valuable skill sets that allowed them access.
Malta's group settled into the weyr, going their separate ways and putting themselves where they would be the most useful. Malta found herself, again, in the clinic, her treatment experience (including wilderness treatment) giving her a place on the staff. Her husband behaved himself well, managing to hide his mark (though it wasn't hard to tell he was holdless from his mannerisms) and found menial labor in the town. Her children began to make friends in the creche. Poecileth reconnected with old friends and acquaintances and made sure that there were, quickly, friends around to count on. Things were, for the first time in years, becoming normal.
Since her dragon's injuries meant that her Threadfall duties were reduced, she spent most of her time in the clinic. However, Malta's faith in authority had long been shattered, and she could no longer scrape by as a simple and subservient healer. The clinic sustained her for a while, but she soon could not be just that. She started to get involved with the politics of the Weyr, slowly and through her dragon at first, and then more personally. In particular, she was interested in the candidates. Where should they Search from, what should they be taught, what needed to be unlearned or re-taught. These were, after all, youths who would – Impressed or not – leave the Weyr with many valuable skills. If they learned the 'right' things – the right history, methods, and ways of thinking about the world – they would propigate and support further change for the better – change that would help Pern in these troubled times. At Poecileth's reccommendations- which she was becoming increasingly aligned to - she campaigned for the position of Assistant Candidatemaster to make a point about the sort of person that should be educating the candidates, someone experienced strife, survived hardship, and who had, moreover, seen the extremes of both the traditional and radical views. To her surprise, she was asked to actually be an Assistant Candidatemaster.
After the initial surprise, she positively leapt into the job, her dragon happily following suit. She approached teaching with the same obsessiveness that she had approached healing, and she worked hard to do her best by the young candidates. It was her job to ready them for the world, and that was what she was going to do. And she was going to do it damn well.
And that is what she is currently doing; working her butt off for young people and for the new world that she bled for. There is no more whimpering and no more hiding and no more holding back. That is not her anymore.
[color=#065C1C][/color]
Dragon
Name: Poecileth
(Character originally written for Wardens Weyr by Tetrachrome)
Age: 31
Colour: Green
Description: (Size: Above Average, Build: Average)
(Appearance is based off of a Black Capped Chickadee)
Poecileth always looks chubby and well-fed and her wings are on the short and round side, giving her great maneuverability at takeoff. However, she is no good for long-term stamina. The scars on her wings have made this worse. Though she can still glide, fly for short distances, and between (carefully) safely, she can't do any sorts of complicated tricks or maneuvers, and thus cannot fight Thread effectively. Give her a Search and Rescue, or give her someone or something to carry, and she can do it.
Her large, expressive eyes are usually a shimmering green or blue. She rarely exhibits other colors, and when she does so, they are present as sparks or edging among the green and blue.
Her body is very high-contrast – white and dark green - and she is easy to spot and recognize, even at a distance.
Personality:
Poecileth is a green with a strong personality and with ideals to match. She is brave, bold, and willing to speak her mind. When a serious issue rears it's ugly head, she does not cringe away in fear, she approaches it with dignity. She is highly social, she loves people, and she will not settle for anything less than a good deal. Poecileth is also, however, noncombative, preferring peaceful resolutions to conflicts over violence.
Poecileth hates conflict and violence, and especially duels. She would much prefer to negotiate out a peaceful resolution through a reasonable discussion of grievances. Of the two, Poecileth does the talking, and she does a lot of it. Out of diplomatic politeness, she does not speak directly to bonded humans, but just about any other mind is fair game for her to 'discuss' off. She is very erudite and polite and dignified in her speech and manner.
She has a highly developed maternal instinct that manifests in being very protective of the weak, undertrodden, and disenfranchised. She is motherly and sweet to drudges, injured parties, people having a shitty day, basically anybody who needs it. Her rider takes priority, though: nobody may mess with her Malta, this she makes clear either with politely worded warnings or with her own bulk if necessary.
Poecileth is soft and sweet, but that is the silk over a steely and resolute soul. Though her rider is no longer weak, Poecileth knows that she still must be strong for her and for others like her. She may be polite, but she will not back down.
She does know that she herself isn't exactly a powerhouse. She may be strong inside, but outside she is a fairly average green, perhaps even below average combatwise. So, she tries to surround herself and Malta with strong (mentally and physically) friends. She is oppurtunistic, seeding alliances here and insinuating other things there, in the hopes that if something happens she and Malta have someone to turn to, or at least a big wher to get in the way of danger. Despite manipulating situations, she has a respect for people and whers and dragons as themselves, and not just pawns. She is playing a game, but in her mind, she wants to ensure that everybody wins, not just her or Malta.
She would never use people and toss them out. People of all shapes and sizes are too important to her and she likes them too much. She believes in the inherent goodness and potential of all people. The war was a rough time for both her and her rider, but she can see that understanding was finally achieved by both sides. Now, she believes, peace can happen. Everybody can get along. Her world is righting herself, and that makes her very happy.
Her philosophy can make her seem naïve, but she does not consider herself to be so. She is just very hopeful. She knows that Pern is full of dangers and not-so-nice people, and there is still Thread to contend with and the aftermath of the war. However, she firmly believes that, in the end, things can work out and there can be peace and harmony and equality.
It just needs some work.
Other:
On Dragons: Dragons are big, beautiful, and smart and Poecileth is proud to be one. She knows she is a green, and she wouldn't change her color for the world. She does not, however, think of herself as 'just' a green. She is intelligent and she knows it. She sees color itself as a partially important factor related to physical size. In the end, it is the mind under the skin that matters.
On Whers: Whers are handy, and though she would rather people not get hurt, the threat of harm makes them useful guardians.
On the War: In the end, Poecileth believes that things worked out for the best.
On Threadfall: She sucks at it and while fighting thread is necessary, and she has to fight it, she is well aware that it isn't something she is or will ever be good at.
On Flights: She is no longer careful about when she Rises to mate, now that Malta no longer is uncomfortable about it. She does, however, have her preferences, preferring to be flown by other female dragons.
