Post by danaphantom on Sept 15, 2011 1:35:37 GMT -5
Username: Dana Phantom
Character Number: 2
Name: L'ren
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Weyrling
Wing: Ground Crew
Appearance:
Ever the rogue, ever the charmer, once Larien finishes getting out of the awkward stage of puberty he will find himself to be quite the head-turner. With a total height of six feet, five inches, he quite fits the clichй tall, dark, and handsome, with a bit less emphasis on the dark part. His complexion is more peachy than tan, though that isn't to say he doesn't get any color in the summer when having to work out in the sun. Though he still has room and time to fill out, Larien still keeps a rather boyish figure, slightly lanky, but he manages to make it look good. Lean muscle mass covers his body and lightly tones him, caused by his chores and duties.
A lopsided grin often frames this man's heart-shaped face, intentionally or inadvertently turning on the roguish charm. Some tiny bit of mischief always sparkles in his light blue, slightly wide-set eyes, though the pranks have certainly been left behind in his childhood years. Still, the joviality that hangs about this candidate is almost never lost in his features. Further adding to his overall air of casualness is the fact that his hair, a gorgeous deep russet color, falls about in a mess of waves and curls about his head. Kept short for convenience, he rarely attempts to tame it. The only real aberration on his body would be his left pinky, half of which is missing from an accident when he was younger. Of course, depending on his mood, his slightly large nose also counts as a deplorable thing on his otherwise good-looking visage.
Larien's clothing choices largely depend on the time of day and the current events going on at the Weyr. Often enough he's seen in work leathers, either for ground crew duties or just general candidate chores. When given a choice, however, his clothing is about as variegated as a dragon's eye. This man will always be sporting a color of one shade or another, coupling it with whatever accessories are needed for a clean, straight-laced look. This is, perhaps, a way to hide whatever deviousness hides beneath, but is also a tool used by Larien because it just looks good.
Personality:
Mirthful, jovial, optimistic, good-natured, all of these describe Larien to a T, and yet you'd still find more synonyms to aptly describe this candidate. Light-hearted and carefree, he very much follows the mantra that you don't know what will happen tomorrow, so you might as well make today the best you can. Though certainly not immature, Larien does have some issues with being serious when the situation calls for it. Moreover, when the situation is dark, you can certainly count on him to make light of the subject and make it a bit more bearable. Jokes are all well and good to this boy, but he has long since past his trickster, pranking ways. There's no fun to be had if the other person gets hurt.
Larien has a roguish charm, and is quite the flirt when you get down to it. After all, flirting and companionship comes with its own level of fun. Variety is the spice of life, and Larien finds himself certainly finding that variety in his choice of partners. Depending on his mood and the current crush, he can be masculine or feminine, dominant or submissive. The way he flows from one situation to another brings to mind the passionate ocean. Secretly, Larien is a hopeless romantic, and wishes to one day find that one special someone. But, until then, he is content with causal dating.
Versatility seems to be the cornerstone to Larien's existence. His ability to change as the situation changes has become a boon to this candidate, since he can adapt and overcome most obstacles. He can be quite dependable because of this; rarely will he fail due to new variables that were not accounted for. However, due to his 'here-and-now' mentality, Larien can, occasionally, be a flake, or decide that whatever task assigned to him is not relevant for the time being. Of course, the moment he realizes his procrastinating has reached its limit, he does put his all into whatever it is that needs to be done.
History:
Greenider Sera, not needing to Between so often due to the Interval, found herself to be rather fertile. For some months after her first child, she seemed to be having difficulties, but lo and behold, it wasn't too long until she announced she was pregnant again. Things were fine, and about two years after she had her first child, Larien was born to the world.
He was a happy baby, entirely oblivious to the death of his mother at just over a year of age. Unable to remember and therefore unable to perceive the painful loss, Larien continued on his joyful little life with his foster parents. He was a sneaky little bugger, getting into trouble often and weaseling his way out of it just as often. But sometimes he wasn't so lucky. One day, he and a few others ventured into the runner bay, where a few runners from Holdfolk visiting the Weyr were being stabled. Unsupervised, the kids played around the runners, and when they got too close to one, spooked it. It reared, kicking Larien, knocking him down and stomping down on his hand. He managed to scoot out of the way, preventing any further damage, but it had been done.
Larien was down for the next several weeks, recovering from a broken leg, a broken rib, many bruises, and an amputated pinky. He had been very lucky that the horse only landed on his pinky and not the whole hand, as the bones in the digit had been pulverized. With some physical training, he gained all movement back into his hand, and survived the encounter mostly unscathed; Larien simply needed to have modified gloves from then on.
For a while, Larien was a little more cautious, but since nothing horrible had come of his escapades, he eventually returned to his bubbly, adventurous self. It was fun, and things would turn out. They always had. So Larien continued to get into scrapes, got out of them, and let a mostly average young life.
It was shortly after his thirteenth birthday that Larien was allowed to stand for his first clutch, though, like his brother, he found himself without a lifemate. Since then, he has been standing at every available clutch, only to be left behind again and again. There is always next time, so Larien finds himself still in the Candidate Barracks, doing his chores and flirting on the side (with hopes he doesn't get caught!). There's always next time... until he is told otherwise.
ADD STUFF ABOUT ADRIS AND FAHIMTH HERE
Family:
Father: C'laen, Brownrider, 47,
Mother: Sera, Greenrider, deceased
Brother: Caelen, Candidate, 18
Sister: Emira, Apprentice Weaver, 15
Green Fahimth
"The Dignified Intellect"
Final Size: 20 Feet
Gender: Female
Color Codes: 339933, 336600; 666633
Appearance:
From one of the very smallest eggs comes one of the very smallest dragons. At a mere twenty feet in length, Fahimth sits within average lengths for Greens, but only barely. If one were to measure her very carefully, they'd find that she's exactly 20 feet and 2 inches in length. Please measure her, she does so want to know her precise measurements. She is decidedly slender, having no curves to speak of in her structure, less even than most male dragons. She is what many would describe of as a "twig." Or maybe even a plank. But she uses this to her advantage. Her compact body is light and flexible, and with razor-slender wings, she can make tight turns that many envy. Her wings are no longer than average, unfortunately, and so with her extra narrow wingsails, Fahimth has a lower than average level of stamina when she's in the air. She's made for tight, quick turns, not long flights. Indeed, her mating flights will be fantastic, but they will be very short. Interestingly, other than her narrowness all around, her limbs are all in proportion to eachother... with exception to her headknobs. Slightly longer than average for a dragon head of that size, it gives her face a very long appearance. Almost horse-like, really. With an extra-narrow snout, her face seems to go on forever. This is something which she is actually rather happy with, as she finds it attractive. But then, Fahimth finds everything about her attractive.
In coloration, Fahimth takes on a whole new level of interest. Primarily a green that rests on the edge of dark for the hue, her hide is like rich foliage towards the end of the Summer. Her entire hide is patterned with small pointed ovals that overlap eachother like scales. Indeed, from a distance, there is something of her that looks rather scaled. Snake-like, even. But really, when one considers her for long enough, she is more like a delicate tree than anything else, with thin branches spreading through. New leaves, old leaves, and leaves in the middle of their lifespan "grow" all over her hide, and though they never change positions, her rider will occasionally find himself unconvinced. She really does seem rather... flexible. There is a mischeif settled in her jeweled eyes that give the impression that she knows that her decorated hide causes some confusion. Along her wings, the patterning does change, as the brightest greens on her hide can be found striping through her wings with no apparant pattern when her wings are furled. Unfurled, however, these thin veins of brightness create a reticular web, almost neuron-like as it leads to brighter, denser collections of brightness. The color almost seems to glow in places, and while not really reflective, the light seems to catch on this fantastic veining to follow along the strands. The patterns spider all the way to her shoulders, and reach just towards the very front of her body, before terminating into the darkness of her somatic folia.
Personality:
Inventive, Intelligent, Vain, Manipulative, Snobbishly Reckless
Mindvoice:
Fahimth knows that her voice is gorgeous, and she is happy to flaunt it. Or rather, if Fahimth did not do her best to add "delicate flourishes" and "sweet surprises" to her vocal inflexions, her voice would be rather pleasant to listen to. A sweet soprano, her voice has a humming quality not unlike the higher notes of an oboe. Unfortunately, one will rarely hear this beautiful, though simple voice, because Fahimth does not like to admit to simplicity. Instead, she tosses in wild arpeggios when she's excited, and "alluring" dips and swoons when she's calm. It never comes out the way she intends, however, instead leading to her sounding more ridiculous than anything else. But don't tell her that. She will argue with you until the end of time about how clearlly you simply do not understand art. In spite of her wild intonations, Fahimth does have a firm grasp on reality, and it's clear in the way she speaks. She's factual, and will often take the time to comment on some scientific observation or another. It is during these times, when she is truly focused on something interesting, such as "This is my hypothesis regarding the abnormal coloration of that Crawler" that her voice relaxes into it's natural state: simple and lovely and beautiful. More often than not however, while she finds things fascinating, they do not catch her interest enough to let her forget to add her twirls and accents to her lilting voice. An odd quirk for an otherwise intelligent dragon, but vanity does strange things to people (and dragons)!
Egg: THE MONKEY EGG
Hatching Scene:
Almost forgotten by the rest, the dead Hatchling laid limply by the now broken Monkey Egg. A trembling figure could be seen peeking out from her shell, Green hide stained by ichor. It was impossible to say whether it was her brothers, her own, or both, at least just yet. She shook and she waited, and she didn't move. Finally, though, she crawled from her shell. One surprisingly patterned wing hung a little limp at her side, but it soon became clear that the ichor was not her own, but her crushed and mangled Bronze brother's. She glanced back once more at her mother, then stood as tall as she could.
/I should not be afraid,/ her looping, whimsical voice said suddenly. No, she wouldn't be afraid. She would be brave. Her mother was lost to the world, but this was her opening day, her first act. She put her chin up, and with a pained expression, lifted her wing to its proper place, though it ached so.
She started towards the Candidates, ignoring her mother's distracting sorrow. Her mother had no rider. She wouldn't let that hold her back, though. That would not keep her from having a rider. And she knew just who she wanted. But she was a vain thing. She couldn't let her rider think that they had it too easy, now could she? She tiptoed her skinny form through the girls, stopping once to sniff at one who she found to be hilarious. Just look at her, with all that make up caked on as if that made her features anymore palatable! She herself? She was gorgeous, just as she was. And truly, she was. As she moved along, more than a few watched in envy as brilliantly patterned wings flashed past. Her whole body looked like leaves in the wind. She enjoyed the eyes that did follow her, and she hated the eyes that preferred to keep an eye on her mother. Stupid Golds. She was just born, but already, she knew. Golds always had to steal the spotlight, whether or not they deserved it.
Finally, the Green decided she didn't need to let Hers wait any longer.
She stepped beyond the semi-circle of Candidates and sat down primly in the Sand, staring at the Candidates. Some had turned to face her, others still refused to take their eyes off of her mother.
/Well then, Larien. Or I suppose it is L'ren, now. I think we can go now. My brother is dead, and my mother is insane. Let us live our lives as they cannot./
The Green waited primly for Larien to come to her. As brave as she tried to sound, though, her looping voice had a quiver to it. Even the strongest dragons could be shaken by events such as these.
Parentage: Gold Grenth x Bronze Enpiceth
Name: Adris
Age: Hatchling
Gender: Male
Rank: Bronze
Species: Flitt
Appearance:
There is a distinct green tinge to this flitt, the color strong enough to make most have to take a second look before realizing the true color of this Bronze. There have been occasions where Adris will curl up on Fahimth just right to completely disappear into one of her many leaves. Despite this, the golden overcast of his kingly color is readily apparent if one takes the time to actually look. Indeed, on closer inspection, Adris is flat-out shiny, gleaming in the sun as if polished. He is fairly average as far as build goes; this Bronze is stocky and has a shorter neck, but frankly, not enough to really set him apart from any other of his color.
Personality:
When looking at the trio of L'ren, Fahimth, and Adris, one may or may not be surprised to learn that it is the flitt that is the most responsible. The Kirk to L'ren's McCoy and Fahimth's Spock, he mediates and keeps the other two on schedule. That is, when he's not off trying to woo the green alien babes... er, flitts. He can't help but be suave. He is after all, a Bronze.
Character Number: 2
Name: L'ren
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Weyrling
Wing: Ground Crew
Appearance:
Ever the rogue, ever the charmer, once Larien finishes getting out of the awkward stage of puberty he will find himself to be quite the head-turner. With a total height of six feet, five inches, he quite fits the clichй tall, dark, and handsome, with a bit less emphasis on the dark part. His complexion is more peachy than tan, though that isn't to say he doesn't get any color in the summer when having to work out in the sun. Though he still has room and time to fill out, Larien still keeps a rather boyish figure, slightly lanky, but he manages to make it look good. Lean muscle mass covers his body and lightly tones him, caused by his chores and duties.
A lopsided grin often frames this man's heart-shaped face, intentionally or inadvertently turning on the roguish charm. Some tiny bit of mischief always sparkles in his light blue, slightly wide-set eyes, though the pranks have certainly been left behind in his childhood years. Still, the joviality that hangs about this candidate is almost never lost in his features. Further adding to his overall air of casualness is the fact that his hair, a gorgeous deep russet color, falls about in a mess of waves and curls about his head. Kept short for convenience, he rarely attempts to tame it. The only real aberration on his body would be his left pinky, half of which is missing from an accident when he was younger. Of course, depending on his mood, his slightly large nose also counts as a deplorable thing on his otherwise good-looking visage.
Larien's clothing choices largely depend on the time of day and the current events going on at the Weyr. Often enough he's seen in work leathers, either for ground crew duties or just general candidate chores. When given a choice, however, his clothing is about as variegated as a dragon's eye. This man will always be sporting a color of one shade or another, coupling it with whatever accessories are needed for a clean, straight-laced look. This is, perhaps, a way to hide whatever deviousness hides beneath, but is also a tool used by Larien because it just looks good.
Personality:
Mirthful, jovial, optimistic, good-natured, all of these describe Larien to a T, and yet you'd still find more synonyms to aptly describe this candidate. Light-hearted and carefree, he very much follows the mantra that you don't know what will happen tomorrow, so you might as well make today the best you can. Though certainly not immature, Larien does have some issues with being serious when the situation calls for it. Moreover, when the situation is dark, you can certainly count on him to make light of the subject and make it a bit more bearable. Jokes are all well and good to this boy, but he has long since past his trickster, pranking ways. There's no fun to be had if the other person gets hurt.
Larien has a roguish charm, and is quite the flirt when you get down to it. After all, flirting and companionship comes with its own level of fun. Variety is the spice of life, and Larien finds himself certainly finding that variety in his choice of partners. Depending on his mood and the current crush, he can be masculine or feminine, dominant or submissive. The way he flows from one situation to another brings to mind the passionate ocean. Secretly, Larien is a hopeless romantic, and wishes to one day find that one special someone. But, until then, he is content with causal dating.
Versatility seems to be the cornerstone to Larien's existence. His ability to change as the situation changes has become a boon to this candidate, since he can adapt and overcome most obstacles. He can be quite dependable because of this; rarely will he fail due to new variables that were not accounted for. However, due to his 'here-and-now' mentality, Larien can, occasionally, be a flake, or decide that whatever task assigned to him is not relevant for the time being. Of course, the moment he realizes his procrastinating has reached its limit, he does put his all into whatever it is that needs to be done.
History:
Greenider Sera, not needing to Between so often due to the Interval, found herself to be rather fertile. For some months after her first child, she seemed to be having difficulties, but lo and behold, it wasn't too long until she announced she was pregnant again. Things were fine, and about two years after she had her first child, Larien was born to the world.
He was a happy baby, entirely oblivious to the death of his mother at just over a year of age. Unable to remember and therefore unable to perceive the painful loss, Larien continued on his joyful little life with his foster parents. He was a sneaky little bugger, getting into trouble often and weaseling his way out of it just as often. But sometimes he wasn't so lucky. One day, he and a few others ventured into the runner bay, where a few runners from Holdfolk visiting the Weyr were being stabled. Unsupervised, the kids played around the runners, and when they got too close to one, spooked it. It reared, kicking Larien, knocking him down and stomping down on his hand. He managed to scoot out of the way, preventing any further damage, but it had been done.
Larien was down for the next several weeks, recovering from a broken leg, a broken rib, many bruises, and an amputated pinky. He had been very lucky that the horse only landed on his pinky and not the whole hand, as the bones in the digit had been pulverized. With some physical training, he gained all movement back into his hand, and survived the encounter mostly unscathed; Larien simply needed to have modified gloves from then on.
For a while, Larien was a little more cautious, but since nothing horrible had come of his escapades, he eventually returned to his bubbly, adventurous self. It was fun, and things would turn out. They always had. So Larien continued to get into scrapes, got out of them, and let a mostly average young life.
It was shortly after his thirteenth birthday that Larien was allowed to stand for his first clutch, though, like his brother, he found himself without a lifemate. Since then, he has been standing at every available clutch, only to be left behind again and again. There is always next time, so Larien finds himself still in the Candidate Barracks, doing his chores and flirting on the side (with hopes he doesn't get caught!). There's always next time... until he is told otherwise.
ADD STUFF ABOUT ADRIS AND FAHIMTH HERE
Family:
Father: C'laen, Brownrider, 47,
Mother: Sera, Greenrider, deceased
Brother: Caelen, Candidate, 18
Sister: Emira, Apprentice Weaver, 15
Green Fahimth
"The Dignified Intellect"
Final Size: 20 Feet
Gender: Female
Color Codes: 339933, 336600; 666633
Appearance:
From one of the very smallest eggs comes one of the very smallest dragons. At a mere twenty feet in length, Fahimth sits within average lengths for Greens, but only barely. If one were to measure her very carefully, they'd find that she's exactly 20 feet and 2 inches in length. Please measure her, she does so want to know her precise measurements. She is decidedly slender, having no curves to speak of in her structure, less even than most male dragons. She is what many would describe of as a "twig." Or maybe even a plank. But she uses this to her advantage. Her compact body is light and flexible, and with razor-slender wings, she can make tight turns that many envy. Her wings are no longer than average, unfortunately, and so with her extra narrow wingsails, Fahimth has a lower than average level of stamina when she's in the air. She's made for tight, quick turns, not long flights. Indeed, her mating flights will be fantastic, but they will be very short. Interestingly, other than her narrowness all around, her limbs are all in proportion to eachother... with exception to her headknobs. Slightly longer than average for a dragon head of that size, it gives her face a very long appearance. Almost horse-like, really. With an extra-narrow snout, her face seems to go on forever. This is something which she is actually rather happy with, as she finds it attractive. But then, Fahimth finds everything about her attractive.
In coloration, Fahimth takes on a whole new level of interest. Primarily a green that rests on the edge of dark for the hue, her hide is like rich foliage towards the end of the Summer. Her entire hide is patterned with small pointed ovals that overlap eachother like scales. Indeed, from a distance, there is something of her that looks rather scaled. Snake-like, even. But really, when one considers her for long enough, she is more like a delicate tree than anything else, with thin branches spreading through. New leaves, old leaves, and leaves in the middle of their lifespan "grow" all over her hide, and though they never change positions, her rider will occasionally find himself unconvinced. She really does seem rather... flexible. There is a mischeif settled in her jeweled eyes that give the impression that she knows that her decorated hide causes some confusion. Along her wings, the patterning does change, as the brightest greens on her hide can be found striping through her wings with no apparant pattern when her wings are furled. Unfurled, however, these thin veins of brightness create a reticular web, almost neuron-like as it leads to brighter, denser collections of brightness. The color almost seems to glow in places, and while not really reflective, the light seems to catch on this fantastic veining to follow along the strands. The patterns spider all the way to her shoulders, and reach just towards the very front of her body, before terminating into the darkness of her somatic folia.
Personality:
Inventive, Intelligent, Vain, Manipulative, Snobbishly Reckless
Mindvoice:
Fahimth knows that her voice is gorgeous, and she is happy to flaunt it. Or rather, if Fahimth did not do her best to add "delicate flourishes" and "sweet surprises" to her vocal inflexions, her voice would be rather pleasant to listen to. A sweet soprano, her voice has a humming quality not unlike the higher notes of an oboe. Unfortunately, one will rarely hear this beautiful, though simple voice, because Fahimth does not like to admit to simplicity. Instead, she tosses in wild arpeggios when she's excited, and "alluring" dips and swoons when she's calm. It never comes out the way she intends, however, instead leading to her sounding more ridiculous than anything else. But don't tell her that. She will argue with you until the end of time about how clearlly you simply do not understand art. In spite of her wild intonations, Fahimth does have a firm grasp on reality, and it's clear in the way she speaks. She's factual, and will often take the time to comment on some scientific observation or another. It is during these times, when she is truly focused on something interesting, such as "This is my hypothesis regarding the abnormal coloration of that Crawler" that her voice relaxes into it's natural state: simple and lovely and beautiful. More often than not however, while she finds things fascinating, they do not catch her interest enough to let her forget to add her twirls and accents to her lilting voice. An odd quirk for an otherwise intelligent dragon, but vanity does strange things to people (and dragons)!
Egg: THE MONKEY EGG
Hatching Scene:
Almost forgotten by the rest, the dead Hatchling laid limply by the now broken Monkey Egg. A trembling figure could be seen peeking out from her shell, Green hide stained by ichor. It was impossible to say whether it was her brothers, her own, or both, at least just yet. She shook and she waited, and she didn't move. Finally, though, she crawled from her shell. One surprisingly patterned wing hung a little limp at her side, but it soon became clear that the ichor was not her own, but her crushed and mangled Bronze brother's. She glanced back once more at her mother, then stood as tall as she could.
/I should not be afraid,/ her looping, whimsical voice said suddenly. No, she wouldn't be afraid. She would be brave. Her mother was lost to the world, but this was her opening day, her first act. She put her chin up, and with a pained expression, lifted her wing to its proper place, though it ached so.
She started towards the Candidates, ignoring her mother's distracting sorrow. Her mother had no rider. She wouldn't let that hold her back, though. That would not keep her from having a rider. And she knew just who she wanted. But she was a vain thing. She couldn't let her rider think that they had it too easy, now could she? She tiptoed her skinny form through the girls, stopping once to sniff at one who she found to be hilarious. Just look at her, with all that make up caked on as if that made her features anymore palatable! She herself? She was gorgeous, just as she was. And truly, she was. As she moved along, more than a few watched in envy as brilliantly patterned wings flashed past. Her whole body looked like leaves in the wind. She enjoyed the eyes that did follow her, and she hated the eyes that preferred to keep an eye on her mother. Stupid Golds. She was just born, but already, she knew. Golds always had to steal the spotlight, whether or not they deserved it.
Finally, the Green decided she didn't need to let Hers wait any longer.
She stepped beyond the semi-circle of Candidates and sat down primly in the Sand, staring at the Candidates. Some had turned to face her, others still refused to take their eyes off of her mother.
/Well then, Larien. Or I suppose it is L'ren, now. I think we can go now. My brother is dead, and my mother is insane. Let us live our lives as they cannot./
The Green waited primly for Larien to come to her. As brave as she tried to sound, though, her looping voice had a quiver to it. Even the strongest dragons could be shaken by events such as these.
Parentage: Gold Grenth x Bronze Enpiceth
Name: Adris
Age: Hatchling
Gender: Male
Rank: Bronze
Species: Flitt
Appearance:
There is a distinct green tinge to this flitt, the color strong enough to make most have to take a second look before realizing the true color of this Bronze. There have been occasions where Adris will curl up on Fahimth just right to completely disappear into one of her many leaves. Despite this, the golden overcast of his kingly color is readily apparent if one takes the time to actually look. Indeed, on closer inspection, Adris is flat-out shiny, gleaming in the sun as if polished. He is fairly average as far as build goes; this Bronze is stocky and has a shorter neck, but frankly, not enough to really set him apart from any other of his color.
Personality:
When looking at the trio of L'ren, Fahimth, and Adris, one may or may not be surprised to learn that it is the flitt that is the most responsible. The Kirk to L'ren's McCoy and Fahimth's Spock, he mediates and keeps the other two on schedule. That is, when he's not off trying to woo the green alien babes... er, flitts. He can't help but be suave. He is after all, a Bronze.