Welcome to Gaia! ::

Name: Shenrus
Age: 26
Sex: Male (Heavy leanings on genderfluid)
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Weyr: Other
Rider Rank: Entertainer//Magician
Previous Rank/Craft: High Reaches Wingrider

Physical Description: Shenrus doesn’t cut any sort of impressive silhouette by any measure. His build is rather slender with some slim muscle, enough to get him by. Working both in the sun and inheriting a blend of his mother’s lighter skin and his father’s richer tones has blessed Shenrus with a rich near bronzen skin tone. His hair is sleek and dark, unruly with a lot of body that the wind toys with so easily unless held in place. That same quality of hair sometimes trails gently down his chin, though most often than not Shenrus prefers to keep it shaved off. Eyes once so bright and warm like a pot of klah have darkened with time and stress, a closed gate that near blends with his pupils. He has a share of scars across his body; a bad scar across his shoulder from his one (and only, Faranth willing) trip to Bitra, a scar that nicks the edge of his right eyebrow and shortened it from the left, and thread scores lacing down his right arm.

With such a lithe form, it gives way to allow Shenrus to sometimes blend the lines between his masculinity and feminine qualities. Kohl and paint, make up to blur those lines and some loose clothing help hide a flatter chest and less curvy hips. Once a learned style when he was with his troop before Impression, Shenrus often has some form of this rather (in his mind) lovely dressage, most often when he craves a time he felt at home.

Personality: A life on the road as an entertainer and magician has certainly left its mark on Shenrus. He comes off as easy-going, a grain of sand in the wind. It takes a lot to honestly bother and get under the skin of this man in any sense -- friendly or not. He oozes easy confidence, never afraid to fill a room with his presence and let himself known. It’s something that’s earned him both appreciative and disgusted looks, looking like he owns a place when he stays a few nights tops. Someone doesn’t roll into a town or hold and expect for strangers to look his way without commanding their attention for himself. A confident charm has helped him earn a meager living for himself and his dragon--and occasionally into someone’s bed. Visiting new places all the time, dealing with all sorts of people, has helped Shenrus to fine-tune a quick wit, especially on how to glazingly read people. A scrap in Bitra has certainly helped him to read when to get out as well.

Yet this life on the road has left Shenrus with a terrible phobia of commitments. It was only with his foster mother Ahmia’s nudging (and mild threats) that he accepted a rider’s offer to come stand for High Reaches. While it had lucked out, he and Tianath were a fated match, Shenrus scrambled to leave the Weyr as soon as they were graduated. He needed to be back where he felt he belonged. His time at the Weyr had left him detached, unwilling to make long-term connections. His and Tianath’s leaving something that time and loss have begun to weigh heavily on Shen’s mind, knowing he ostracized his dragon--despite her soft corrections that it was a decision that was met halfway on her part as well. It’s left a bitter taste of himself on his tongue, and even more reason to keep anything but acquaintances with blurry faces to vague name impressions at dragonlength.

Positive Trait List Easy-going, Confident, Quick-witted
Negative Trait List Terrified of commitments, Detached, Self-depreciative

History: The earliest memories that can be recalled are sitting on a bumpy wagon, bouncing and bumping elbows and knees as he struggles to stay still and listen to his foster mother tell fantastic stories. Ahmia was a good woman who took him in just after being weaned, bright eyed and innocent. His father had died in a nasty accident with another cart before he was even born, and his mother had died of illness. But Shenrus only knows his parents as the dancer with the tambourine and the wandering gitar player who fell in love in a wandering entertainment group. Stories that embellished their love story in the very troop they were in. Childhood went like a flash, growing up in a big travelling camp. He learned, very quickly, he had quite talented hands. First at making things disappear in his pockets--but soon finding that he had the dexterity to make them reappear just as seamlessly. With practice and being raised by a talented group, they fostered his talents and built him up with the bravado to back it up. It helped with extra marks, and made living that much more comfortable. A fellow troop member, a teen the same age as him who was adept at rather contortion positions, helped him to learn the way of disguise and dressage. It was something that would be ingrained in Shenrus even into his adulthood.

Just before his sixteenth turnday, at a performance at Crom Hold, his performance caught the eye of the stationed watch rider. It was through persuasion by Ahmia to go, to leave all that he had known and his family that convinced him to stand for search as nothing more than the washed clean face; no wispy clothes and smoky cosmetics to hide behind, just himself on the sands and utterly out of his element. Yet, if he aged out, he could go home. A thought that terrified him as much as excited. Halfway into his 18th turn, Shenrus would Impress-- to the tiniest, delicate white he had ever seen. Yet she held her head up despite her unusual appearance with the delicate grace in her stride that a newly hatched dragon couldn’t quite keep up. Her name was Tianath, and a piece of Shenrus was finally settled. For his time in High Reaches, Shenrus would go by the name Sh’rus--something that would be later scrapped at his parting with his life at the Weyr. The vague idea that maybe a Weyr life could be okay for them. Yet, it wasn’t quite what he had hoped--once more. Keeping up with schedules and routines and work wasn’t something he had issues with, for he had his own variation of it with his troop. But it wasn’t the same, and made the ache for home even stronger. When they were graduated, Shenrus would steal them away. A decision that Tianath had agreed to, for she could feel how restless her rider was--aching for a home she could see in his memories and stories alike.

It took them the better part of nine months to finally track down his troop--or what was left of it. Almost three turns had left them to slowly scatter, guilt to add up in Shen’s gut as his brain equated it to his leaving--and not the infighting that he hadn’t been privy to. He had been nestled in Bitra for the second day, dressed to the nines and had been entertaining a small crowd. However, someone had been less than amused when deft hands had plucked a pin from a shirt molded after a firelizard. Accused of theft by someone not quite getting the act, they had attacked him. His face had taken a hit that had healed easy enough, but Shen’s back had collided into the corner of a reinforced cart--the metal doing a good bit of damage to his shoulder. Tianath had cried out, but who should get in the way but Ahmia. The hardened older woman had dispelled the tension with the help of two faces he had recognized--all that was left of their troop. But Shenrus couldn’t help but cry once he was tucked into a familiar, aged covered wagon. Though they were a much smaller group, they tucked together and Shenrus felt happy once more.

It stayed like that, until the fateful day that High Reaches’ seemingly conspiracy theory rang true. The group was halfway to the journey towards Keroon from Benden Hold when thread fell upon them. Fast and hard, its a memory that's fuzzy and almost lost to Shenrus. There were screams, the cart near disintegrating before his eyes. His troop, how little it had grown in the turns, scattered across the open field. A clump had fallen on Ahmia, and Shenrus fell back on old training that his weyrlinghood had instilled and battled against his instinct to save his foster mother. From his saddle, he’d reached and grabbed her around the chest. His own screams as thread bit and sank into his arm until the cold of between rapidly cooled the burn as they found themselves just barely above the ground at Benden Hold. The landing was anything but graceful, scrambling to be brought into the Weyr and to safety. Ahmia hadn’t made it, likely hadn’t lived to feel the cool of between. His arm was treated, white-silver scars lacing up his right arm. Tianath had survived the scrap for the most part, minor damage on her shoulder and right foreleg from their rescue attempt. Once they were able, Ahmia had been taken back between to finally rest. It had taken days to find what was left of the cart--with no signs of any other survivors--or bodies, for that matter. Maybe they had survived.

With no attachments, Shenrus’ walls climbed higher as thread returned. He wavers on the edge of staying in his comfortable life--or returning to his duty as a dragonrider and back to Weyrlife.

Other: Shenrus knows how to roll marks across his knuckles. It's a little sleight of hand that he knows that really impresses little children, but it’s also a nervous habit to fidget with something.


DRAGON
Name: Tianath
Age: 8 (Clutched 3565)
Color: White
Size: 14’
Physical Description: Tianath is nothing but a lady, thank you. She runs on the smaller side of the average white, only at fourteen feet. Tianath’s body is sleek and slim, proportionate for her size. Yet she can only hold two passengers at most--and not for too many trips before she must rest. Her gait is with purpose and delicate, more befitting a Lady Holder than a dragon--just don’t tell her that. Her hide is a bright white, like the purest cloud against a sunny day. A deeper grey seeps into her wing sails and ridges. Over the expanse of her chest, down her shoulders and forelegs, and trailing off down her back is gentle, acey markings that dip and curl with the same gentleness as her personality. Silvery scars do interrupt her patterns against her right shoulder and foreleg, in a vain attempt to save her rider’s foster mother from the surprise grip of thread.

Personality: Everything about Tianath is nothing but lady-like, even down to her personality. She speaks in a soft tone, gentle and delicate. The gentle wisps of the breeze through blooming flowers after the snow has thawed, soft and sweet. Soft and gentle, she never raises her voice or gets angry, but her tone can reach gut-wrenching levels of disappointment if ever the need truly arise.

She is cordially friendly with those she meets--especially dragons that she meets after leaving High Reaches. Though, perhaps just a touch more excited. She would never admit it out loud especially with Shenrus’ penchant to add onto his growing list of guilt, but she does miss the company of her kin. Not so much a Weyr setting, as she had been just as eager to escape the Weyr as well. The wide open skies to spread her wings, free to go and do as they please--it's a life she loves. But doesn’t quite stop the nibbling loneliness, especially when she wishes to have someone to curl up with again.
Yet there’s a chilled near aloof air when she speaks. A softness which lends to walls built up over time in a way that only isolation and introversion can build. Where she talks and can be friendly, but takes or leaves most interactions at where they end. Most faces they see are lost and never seen again--why build up memory when its to be lost?

She’s quite the wordsmith, talking at length and liking a meeting of wits. While Shenrus prefers to show off in physicality, she shows off in conversation. Wistful and wondering, conversations might end up philosophical if they go on long enough--things that wouldn’t ordinarily cross other dragon’s minds, but does with hers.

Dragon Art or Proof of Obtainment: Dragon Starter Pack