Z'ael & Damitsath }{ 20 | Searchrider | Brown

[evangeline]

Name: Z’ael (sayell)
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Wingrider/Searchrider
Wing: doesn’t matter to me!
Status: Healthy
Appearance: Ever since he was a little boy, people fawned over Z’ael, then Zayrael. They would absently run their fingers through his hair, keep one hand upon his shoulder, offer him fruit to get him to grin his toothy smile, and the most annoying ones, often the Aunties, would pinch his cheeks and wiggle until he laughed, squirming out of their grip and swatting playfully. This innocent doting grew as Zayrael grew out of his baby fat and into a child, and suddenly the other girls around the hold were chasing him in what seemed to him to be a never-ending game of tag, to his father a distraction from studies and chores, and to his mother an adorable rite of passage. She knew what was happening out on the lawn of their minor holding; she knew it was going to happen ever since she gave birth to her fourth born, a boy who was absolutely adorable since birth and grew, eventually, into a handsome man. She never would see him like this, but that’s another story for another time.

This handsome man that Z’ael had become – and yes, you must include the honorific at this point in time because before then, Zayrael was just a boy – was partially attributed to his genetics and mostly attributed to that randy brown of his, or so he likes to tease Damitsath. For even though he grew up in a small hold where the work was plentiful, he didn’t gain his musculature until he was throwing bags of firestone between dragons and for even though the girls at his family’s hold were nice enough, that nice enough doesn’t compare to the fierce need to prove yourself to the most attractive girls at the Weyr in the most competitive atmosphere a fledgling boy could grow up in. So Zayrael became a man and learned how to trim his whiskers just so, to create that perfect 5-‘o-clock shadow where it looks like he’s been up half the night doing Faranth knows what. He learned which Weyr girl to ask to give him a haircut so it falls in his face without covering his vision, so it is long enough to be fashionable but short enough to stand out. Most importantly, in his opinion, he learned Weyr culture as a whole: he learned how to dress to his rank with fashionable tunics of neutral colors, how to carry his average height and average weight to walk like a Dragonrider with that hint of swagger, and how to position himself to make that small hint of toned muscle actually flex to become visible when hauling firestone.

Yes, it was lucky that Z’ael learned quickly because if he didn’t capitalize on his assets, he would look like any other hold-bred boy: preened, pristine, fair-skinned and, actually, quite wimpy. If he was to be a holder, that would be one thing, but here in dragonland, being preened, pristine, and quite wimpy normally meant that you played on the other team. Z’ael, although certainly respectful of the choices of his fellow dragonmen, didn’t want to be perceived that way, and thus became macho Z’ael you see today. Working that extra hour to build that muscle, flirting obscenely, and generally looking like a five-star prick. Way to show them, Z’ael.

Personality: “There’s only one thing that I always get and that’s the girl.”

If there was one word that could define Z’ael entirely (and we all know this is not possible) it would not be “asshole” or “prick” as you may surmise from what you’ve read thus far: but instead maybe “selfish” or “confusing” or perhaps “the-man-who-really-should-be-a-girl-contrary-to-his-appearance” or maybe the all-encompassing “how-in-the-world-did-this-man-become-a-dragonrider?!” The last word, really, is the most telling of all because it states exactly what Z’ael is not: naturally empathetic and the inborn duty bound feeling to protect Pern and its inhabitants, risking life and limb. In fact, if Z’ael had his choice and tradition wasn’t hidebound tradition, he would run underground at the first sight of Thread, leaving all the others out for fodder as he and his remained safe. In this very crucial aspect, most who know Z’ael truly and deeply (for this quality is not well known) are left to scratch their heads at how such a wondrous creature such as Damitsath actually chose Z’ael to be his rider. The reply to such an inquiry is none of Z’ael’s, so that, too, will be stored away for a later date.

Instead, we can focus on why Zayrael actually decided to become a dragonrider instead of the holder that he would be so naturally fitting for and this is it: glamour. An ambitious little snake, Zayrael knew from a young age that he would never marry to become a Lord Holder and would never amount to much more than a small hold like his father. In fact, he knew that he would probably spend the rest of his life at the same small hold and as it passed ownership from his father to his eldest brother he would watch his children grow to become no more than holdfolk with the occasional crafter. Thus, Zayrael offered himself up for Search as soon as he was 12, having watched for the colored beasts flying across the sky for the past several Turns, as soon as he knew what Search was. He was the first of his family to leave for the Weyr, and he knew that he was never coming back to be one of the now seven children. No, now he was out and on his merry way: which leads us to two more crucial personality traits that you may have picked up on by now. Dear Zayrael was immensely competitive and jealous. Being thrust into Candidacy did not help these qualities at all, and he found himself standing on the Sands that fateful day wanting nothing more than to upstage these bulky, huge teenagers who had been around for forever. Zayrael wanted to Impress for the sake of Impression, for a companion in the midst of competition and being ignored, for someone to take on Pern with and live life to the fullest, a dragon to shove in the faces of his family and fellow candidates. This, most likely, is why Damitsath chose him in his fit of passion; a project, you could say.

That was then, though, and this is now. Z’ael is better after seven years of Impression, as you would expect any dragonrider to be. The tendency to think only of himself is balanced with the hero qualities of Damitsath and his jealous nature subdued with his inherent happiness. The competitive nature is certainly still there, however, and that’s the main motivating factor behind all of his successes.

Successes, he must say, that range on the empathetic side of things rather than the Threadfighting side of things. Even though he has (still, knock on wood) kept himself and Damitsath scorefree, this is all attributed to his dragon. It takes all of his focus to connect fully to Damitsath and draw on his sturdy, loyal tendencies. No, Z’ael gives back to the Weyr in the best way he can: with his charming personality and his uncanny ability to read people, find their desires, and capitalize upon them. Manipulative? Perhaps a tad, but this really only plays to the Weyr’s advantage. He never uses this on other dragonriders. There’s no point, really, especially with his fervent lack of natural Threadfighting ability. No, Z’ael is the Weyr’s posterboy: attractive, charming, and able to convince any sort of holder that their son or daughter (especially daughter) is best off at the Weyr.

On a nicer side of things, this same ability allows him to successfully handpick candidates to become successful, even from a young age. Maai? Oh, yeah, he took bets on that one and raked in the Marks. If possible, he takes his little handpicks and grooms them, teaching them all they need to be successful in Impression (By the First Egg, if he could do it, they can). He really is a great teacher, and this comes from his natural calming personality. All little fits of passion left when Damitsath came on the scene, and what was left was a rather level-headed, emotionally-stable, gentle soul. Z’ael thinks before speaking, honors all traditions, never toes the line, and wants, above all, a weyrmate, preferably a nice Hold-bred girl – so maybe that’s why he takes his Searching abilities so seriously?

History:It’s simple really. Boy born to man and wife in the middle of a hot, hot summer to three screaming babes, all males and all ranking above him. Boy grew up in a nice, comfortable home, not depraved of work or play, of affection or ignorance. Both had their purposes, both had their times, and all kept a strong and level head on his shoulders. In fact, all of this is so elementary and basic you wonder where the interesting thing comes in: why this boy? Why are we talking about him?

It’s because this down to earth boy was extremely down to earth until he got the dream of flying away and leaving his monotonous, routine-driven life behind. Zayrael was bored of being the very middle child, the fourth of seven, to a minor holder and his wife. After 5 Turns of watching and waiting out the window to be taken away with the magnificent beasts that landed in the courtyard, the day came when Zayrael, who luckily turned 12 not a sevenday prior, saw dragons circling down and waited inside with anticipation, the sweat gathering on his palms as he waited for his father to come back inside, to make the call for candidates. There were three dragons, too many to be delivering a message, especially to a small minor holding… And so Zayrael waited the second longest time in his life for the Dragons, with the words he was copying down for the Harper shaking as much as his stability as the emotions inside him rang about, dancing around to his palpitating heart’s beat. It seemed like an entire candlemark before his father entered the room, talking in low tones to the Journeyman, who nodded succinctly. It was not long before all the boys and girls over the age of 12 were walking out in a single, fidgety, nervous line toward the trio of enormous dragons.

The fear that lingered in the air was palpable to even Zayrael, and he could understand why his friends and fellow holdfolk would feel this way: dragons were a rare occurrence here, especially this close up. Having been a full four Turns since the last Search (as was applicable during the interval), most of these potential candidates had never experienced this before and was, concurrently, their first time this near these giants. To the untrained eye, especially to a young holder who wanted to stay there thank-you-very-much, they were quite ugly and very scary. Most of the holder children surrounding Zayrael wanted nothing to do with the dragons that landed on their doorstep, despite the prestige associated with it. As stated before, it was not often that the dragons came and let alone selected an individual, and that individual was never heard from again. In this particular small holding, there was a stigma: and Zayrael didn't care.

He was the only one out of the ten or so chosen for closer inspection that stood stark still as the dragon lowered its snout to his chest, gazing at him contemplatively. With all the hopeful, positive feelings he was surprised he didn’t burst – which was probably good, because he was selected by a sweet Red and her quiet rider, who remained his mentor throughout the process rather than the Headwoman or Candidatemaster. (She, Aynlise, told him that not long after he was chosen did the dragons argue amongst themselves who actually noticed him first and was one of her Arieth’s more stunning moments.) As he flew off on Arieth’s back, he glanced one last time at his home and swore he’d never go back, just like the handful of others who had left before him.

Zayrael’s candidacy was hard and blissfully short, with days full of chores and nights full of bullying, making fun of the holder-bred who they had to drag in from the muck that lay outside the Weyr. This, he must admit, was extreme and seemed to be only limited to one single bitter boy, but hindsight is a curse and to the 12-Turn-old, he was hated, and such he wanted nothing more than to shove his dragon in their faces. Any dragon, really, any dragon would ensure that he would stay forever at the Weyr and prove himself to all these people who seemed to think themselves better (and, let’s face it, Zayrael thought they were better too).

Three sevendays into his new life at Solace Weyr, the clutch started to hatch and Zayrael got his wish. He was reborn, effectively, as Z’ael, no longer searching without a direction but found by a dragon whom was infinitely better than he could have even imagined. His father and mother, who came for the Hatching, were immensely excited and came at him with lavish praise for something that they truly didn’t understand and couldn’t. After the night was over, they were returned to the place where Zayrael had lived and grown and been, taking back with them the memory of the boy that didn’t exist any longer. Z’ael has never seen them since.

His weyrling period was full of learning and growing and maturing as one of the youngest of those who Impressed at his clutch and one of the few hold-bred as well. These two attributes forced Z’ael to learn and learn quickly, adapting to his new environment with a feverish pace as to not be left behind. He shouldn’t have worried, though, because his natural charm that was once hidden behind insignificance was brought out with the ways that he was different, and these differences only helped him rather than hurting him as they had during his first experiences at Solace. In fact, he grew to pride himself on these differences because he was simply of average height, average weight, average skill, and significantly less courageous than some of the other weyrlings and dragonriders. This, though, he grew to hide under this imperceptible layer of charm and ease.

Soon enough people began to feel extremely comfortable with Z’ael, telling them their stories and crying on his shoulder, doing three things in the process. Firstly, Z’ael had quickly grown from boy they teased to Mr. Congeniality, always with a smile on his face and with more friends than the over-bred crиche worker. Secondly, Z’ael lost that down-to-earth mentality and developed quite the ego. Thirdly, Z’ael became addicted to gossip. He wasn’t a particularly engaged boy to begin with, but at the tender age of fourteen going on fifteen, the scandalous stories that flourished in the Weyr were previously unknown to him and he began talking about people rather than ideas, thus becoming quite small minded. His interests began to lay with relationships and individuals rather than the future and being ambitious, which was more fitting to his position than before.

Z’ael had no difficulty being tapped into a wing when the time came. He, in fact, was one of the first of those of his clutch to be tapped (other than the metallics, of course) for his Threadfighting difficulties didn’t lay in practice, only in action with real, deadly Threads. Before then, he was the epitome of the perfect Brownrider: loyal, nice, friendly, and hard-working. He was competitive without being aggressive, threatening, or a trouble-maker. Z’ael was the perfect Wingrider.

Of course, until he wasn't. By the time real Threads had threatened to rain down, Z’ael had realized what a serious threat to his health these little tendrils were, and the ability to even remain on Damitsath became small. On the day of the first ‘Fall, Damitsath had to convince him (for a full 24 candlemarks) that everything was going to be alright before he would even consider strapping up the dragon. After that, the unstoppable duo became the pair that no one really wanted in their Wing, because as good and dependable as Damitsath was, Z’ael was twice as bad with his negative energy and the obsessive need to get out of there and back in a safe place.

This, naturally, has gotten better over the years: no longer does Z’ael fall off or close his eyes, but there is still that lingering notion way back in his mind that his life would be much better on the ground and in a cave – but few remember this, or really care to. It is a forgotten piece of information that is ignored under the presence of Z’ael as a whole, charming and eloquent, bringing in the best candidates and smoothing over relations with all holds around Solace, always making their life easier. For those who do remember, they just chalk it up to his age; he was just a boy after all, only 17. They always seem to leave out the fact that he had been Searching since 16 and sleeping around since he was 15, oh and that he was responsible for half of the Weyr’s dirty laundry getting out in the open.



Name: Damitsath
Age: 7
Gender: Male
Rank: Brown
Code: 6C5138
Status: Healthy
Size: 32 feet
Appearance: Average-sized and slightly lanky, what Damitsath lacks in physical prowess he makes up in sheer beauty, not quite unlike Z’ael. At first, there is nothing remarkable about his color. It is neither a light brown nor a dark brown, just a brown. It is mid-toned and, quite frankly, simple. There are no intricate, elaborate designs around his wings or headknobs. There is nothing flamboyant or sparkly about him other than the fact that he is a dragon, and dragons, to the untrained eye, are quite large. But then you notice that this brown, just like any other color on a dragon, isn’t just a color. How can it be, with all the life that flows through it? In fact, you look at this color and are reminded of your childhood, where the water rose from the ground during a heavy rainfall and turned the lifeless dirt into swirling mud, active and everchanging. You think of the ground as you run through the forest, full of a heady, musky scent. You feel the skin of your favorite canine under your fingers as you see its brown fur, rippling without changing. It is the smell of fresh klah over an open fire early in the morning, the orange-red dawn illuminating your father’s rough face. That is how Damitsath’s brown hide is: warm, comfortable, loving, with slight red tints lingering under the plain brown for those who care enough to find it.

Personality: Damitsath is in every way perfectly opposite Z’ael, which is fitting because the qualities a good dragon make a good dragonrider make, and we have clearly established that Z’ael is not a good dragonrider. Damitsath does not gossip, is sympathetic, extremely hard-working, selfless, down-to-earth, and a rather private dragon altogether. At this point you may be scratching your head and saying: Da fuuuuu….? And at this point in time, I must agree with you. But let us go back to where this all began, when Damitsath chose Z’ael.

If you were to ask Damitsath himself, the answer would be a simple: “I chose him because he is mine. Particulars don’t matter.” Yes, he has picked up his rider’s eloquent speaking mannerisms. Yes, he is serious. No, he won’t tell you. He won’t tell anyone. In fact, feel extremely lucky that he even spoke with you. Interaction is limited to Z’ael, his wing, and other necessary dragons. He doesn’t feel the need to interact with others, and when he does he often checks out of the conversation, especially if it is one between two particularly chatty dragons. No, he would rather prefer to keep to himself, looking at the sky and pondering why Rukbat is warmer at certain times rather than others or how, exactly, to make his rider more suitable to Weyr life for once and for all.

Yes, Damitsath is a rather rational being compared to his rider, whom he will never call anything except for Z’ael. There is no term of endearment on Damitsath’s end, who views the words superfluous (do not expect for Z’ael to actually call him his name, it is almost always ‘dearest’ or ‘dearheart’). As such, it is solely Damitsath who can be attributed to all of Z’ael’s positive development and the few traits they actually have in common. Level-headed, emotionally-stable, and rule-following are all qualities that Damitsath engrained into his rider before the boy became a man. All other qualities, mostly on the negative side in Damitsath’s mind, are Z’ael-formed. How could they possibly be Damitsath-formed, when the dragon is nothing but helpful, unobtrusive, and logical while Z’ael is selfish, meddlesome, and full of lies?

Make no mistake, though. However different they may be they make up for in affection. They are two halves to one whole. Damitsath fights Thread, Z’ael makes friends. Damitsath ponders while Z’ael feels. They learn from each other and rely on one another. This pair is hopelessly devoted to one another, like every other dragon pair, and the only way to get a rise out of Damitsath is to insult Z’ael. Please, just don’t do it. It really isn’t nice.

Mindvoice: When Damitsath speaks, and it is not often, it is almost always in a near whisper, almost as if he was the acoustic guitar player singing in a quiet pub. His words come out soft, slow, and smooth like the best singers in the speakeasies, soothing those troubled minds and hearts without attempting to. There is a natural earthiness to his words, something genuine and truthful. His words almost never falter from this quality, rich and elegant, like an old leather chair in your grandfather’s library. Only on rare occasions, do his tones begin to rise and become angry, like wind lashing about in the middle of a dark, terrifying autumn night. These, however, are few and far between and especially reserved for Z’ael in his moments of particular selfishness.

Here, part with some classic Z'ael: