K'sel of Brown Pettahth

He is the master of the simple flourish - a splash of green here or a rosette of fuschia there - pinned to a pocket or lapel. It is these little patches of color and pieces of flair that he so desperately needs, they brighten the somber mood of his lackluster mud colored eyes and black silken hair. It would be fair to say he has something of a roguish charm to his appearance since indeed the words hobo, feral, and wildman have cheekily been thrown around in his presence, but at least to keep things interesting his unkempt characteristics never stay consistent. That is, one day it might be that his hair sulkily lays in uneven lengths (curling ever so slightly at their ends and away from his face) and on the next he'll trade it in for an unpressed shirt or the stubbly start of two day old scruff. It is after all much more work than one would imagine, to remain so elegantly disheveled.

But for the record he can clean up well, and usually has to for his Weyrmate's sake. Scrubbed, trimmed, and shaven has more than once earned him the term "cute", though this is surely helped by that rare, mischievous, dimple showing smile which he possesses. Handsome is another one, but not in the traditional sense. Distinctly masculine with a strong and expressive brow, the man has a fatherly aura that is submerged only by the trademarks of youth. All clean complexion and pretty, long, envy inducing eyelashes; it is safe to say that he is maturing extremely well and in all the right ways. All grown up, he is one of those rare individuals who - like fine wine - get better over time. K'sel: the ultimate of acquired tastes.

It would be an injustice to call him a dark haired copy of his lanky, skin and bones brother. He is shorter, falling in a more conventional height range than his younger sibling, reaching no higher than five foot ten if you were to give a liberal estimate. While he too is a thin, skinny thing, he at least has enough meat on the bones to look healthy; sinewy muscle streaks up forearms to rolled up shirt sleeves, and hints of more sneak in through flashes of deeply cut collars. Scrappy, he has definitely survived despite his meager size. Once across his chest and twisting around the inside of his elbow are light thin scars from the point of a knife - evidence of his role in the war. These badges of honor are kept fairly well hidden, the ivory cast of his skin provides little contrast, though the warmer honey shade he boasts during the lazy dog days of summer grant him fewer favors. All in all, such flaws are not what define him. Not so much as his critical gaze or trademark frown does. For a man as purportedly as average as he claims to be, he certainly has become recognizable.

Calm down spanky, you're going to blow us all over with that overwhelmingly upbeat attitude.

An evening with him is a cathartic experience of the highest order. Nothing is quite as relieving as seeing someone more miserable than yourself, and upon first glance one may think that in K'sel they have found that person to take on all the extra torment and grief of the world and live in eternal anguish. But as cynical as K'sel is, he is no martyr and he is much more complicated than a downtrodden, moping boy.

If anything, he doesn't even consider himself as dour as he comes off. Sure, he is by no means gregarious, but he is generally agreeable and can be a pleasure to talk to if he doesn't get side tracked into a more sensitive subject area, because no matter how personable he can be when speaking about the weather, he is surely opinionated about everything else in the world. Usually he leans to the darker side of things, and by lean I mean he is using negativity as a crutch for his crippled view of life and human interaction; everything is stupid, humanity sucks, and if Thread were to tear up half of Pern then it was well deserved. Accordingly, he has a bit of disdain for authority, "What makes them so special? They're even worse than the rest of us," and a little brash arrogance, "I'll be fine, I'm Ka-sharding-ella." These seem to be traits that he does share with his brother, though he manages to be a little better at playing his cards and knowing his boundaries. Despite his grudge for the rule makers, he will fall into line with the rest, though with a bigger frown and more grumbles. He knows at least, when to pick his battles.

He isn't lifeless or cold, and he doesn't lack empathy, if anything he is amazingly perceptive and sympathetic (although the latter lacks full development. He feels bad for you and understands it, but he doesn't necessarily know how to show it; at least not immediately). Although it is a bit of an awkward dance, K'sel wants nothing more than to be able to open up and love something to the fullest. Even if more often than not his judgement of character can be a little harsh and it is fully in his nature to be a little suspicious and hesitant around the average Joe that he may bump into around the Weyr (and three times as much if it is anyone wearing those shiny knots of oppress...erm leadership.) Even though everyone he encounters is a questionable character, he can get over the smaller faults of another and adopt them into his little circle of friends where they will find that he isn't all that he puts himself out to be and that he might be a bit of a lush. Maybe....yeah.

The most surprising thing to learn about him is that he can laugh and joke and smile - albeit in short bursts. He has a sense of humor that relies almost solely on irony, and his own awareness that he is popularly considered a rather dreary person to be around. He can even be a little chatty, though hardly in the girlish sense, and usually under the influence of a certain drink that is so popular at gathers and celebrations. He genuinely enjoys the way it warms his bones and can be used an excuse for any of his more rash decisions. In all honesty, K'sel can be fun! His negligence of the rules makes him an endless source of entertainment; willing to jump into lakes, cuss out bronzeriders, and kidnap candidates. Not to mention the absolute warmth he bestows upon his son... he is more than willing to tell the kid all the stories and fairy tales that his heart desires. The boy is most definitely a mellowing force on his personality.

But again, there is that dark side. K'sel can be a jerk sometimes. Seriously. Or at least he can appear to be. Like mentioned before, he is unknowingly abrasive with those he doesn't know and his battle versus the rest of the world isn't helping him any. But despite his apparent nonchalance and apathy towards the reactions and opinions of others he is not without insecurities. In fact he is a walking plethora of them, all conveniently hidden by his abusive words thrown at himself and others. Nothing is a more sensitive subject than his perceived failures: half hearted, unfinished stints studying the harper craft, and other various shortcomings his mother likes to nag on him about. He handles these things rather poorly, throwing his hands in the air or snapping his disdain. At best he'll write it out, but he takes particular comfort in something else: a nice open field and a loud scream can cure all ills.

2994 - 3007 - There is no Beginning to the Story

Kasella was a child born of spite and revenge, or at very least the pettiness and juvenile dramatics associated with young love. As such, one would have to understand the mother before the son. A woman of Northern heritage, creche worker Marina stood for clutches before being distracted by the affairs of a reckless romance and settling into the very fabric of Selenitas itself. This was not to say that she was never the source of her own share of controversy. After all, she was never kind to the woman who had eyes for T'sel....HER T'sel whom she would finally claim if it was the last thing she did. It didn't help that she and Karmine were cousins and long childhood rivals, it made the disdain that much worse and that much more childish. In the short time that proceeded Marina and T'sel's relationship, Karmine had made it a point to tell the world of whatever little tryst she may have had with the bluerider and how surely they would be weyrmated soon. You'd think she was marrying a Lord Holder with the way she would brag about it, but it was all surely just to get under Marina's skin. It wasn't hard to do, they both worked together caring for Selenitas' weyrbrats, and such close confines caused a fair share of gossip and drama. Mostly of the typical catty type that is to be expected. One day, as fate would have it, Marina caught the tail end of another boastful conversation and heard the other woman say, "Some day, when T'sel and I have children, we'll have a little girl and I'll name her Kasella." And Marina stomped off fuming.

Now Marina wasn't normally the type to engage in such dubious actions, but if you were to ask her, she wouldn't deny propagating a few well placed rumors about Karmine. "But of course I just spread what I know...I never made anything up..." she would say innocently, "She was seen with that guy ya know, and he ended up with the bed bugs. Coincidence? I think not..." It was hard to have any guilt about it, not when it worked so well and Karmine fell out of T'sel's favor. Marina couldn't help it if she was the first thing to come along in the aftermath.

The final blow was Marina and T'sel's first child, which she insisting on naming Kasella; after her grandmother, not her silly cousin of course, and despite the little child being a boy, the name stuck, because T'sel was either much too infatuated to challenge his weyrmate, or simply spent from keeping up with her.

But should he have protested, Kasella would have been saved the trouble of so many turns of jokes and taunting.

As a child he didn't understand why his mother couldn't just add an "n" to end of his name. Maybe a "d". Anything to give it that masculine flair that a naive, asexual, adolescent needed to ward off older bullies and the like, because as a child, this kid had no idea what was going on. Gullible and equally excitable, as well as obedient and devout to the idea of morals and justice, he could walk into any joke set up by an older cousin or friend. He learned though, and learned quickly as any survivor tended to do, but it nonetheless made him into something of a lone wolf and content to play with by himself in the woods should his more loyal allies be nowhere to be found.

Most of his childhood is what he would deem rather generic, though that is certainly a relative term. When he was about two the Northern Wars broke out, and 12 when Shmee Impressed Aslath, and in those days he hardly grasped or cared for the importance of the Impression and the end of a dynasty. He was too busy fighting with younger sibling Torino over who got to wear their goldenrod tunic that day - as is the case for so many children so close in age, their wardrobe was a shared one. Otherwise, most of his memories are limited to morose grumblings from his ever deteriorating father. The man spoke little that was decipherable, but his lips seemed to be pulled down into a bigger and bigger frown with every turn. The reasons why he never knew, and out of some childhood form of respect...never asked and assumed it was all due to the return of Thread. While not exactly a strained relationship, Kasella spent more time in awe of his father and his dragon than truly connecting, and to this day his father resides more so in the nostalgic fibers of an inherited hunting knife than firm memories.

Growing up with a slightly younger brother brought it's own share of stories. It's own share of distractions from the adults and troubles of the world around them. Kasella never tried to be a role model, but that is so often how older brothers turn out. As Kasella grew up and into an age where his girlish name wasn't the source of so much ridicule anymore (harsh words were replaced by friendly quips from friends), and he strove to be the coolest teenager in the lower caverns, he soon found competition from his younger brother Torino. You could call it sibling rivalry in a way. Who could collect the most 2 - day girlfriends? Who had the biggest circle of friends? Which one could get away with breaking more rules? The outcome is still debatable. The two had completely different methods. Friendship with Torino is a free for all, friendship with Kasella is like an elite secret society. Torino would get caught and avoid punishment, Kasella hardly got caught, but suffered when he did and he tallied every single occasion in a mental journal that tracked the great injustices in his life.

3007 - 3011 - For the Love of the Song

Of course, carefree childhood battles dwindled...how long could it really all last before reality set in? Before responsibility? By the time he was thirteen he had already been studying closely with the weyrharper and deemed to be a good match for more structured studies at the Harper Hall and after failing to Impress at his first hatching had enough of a sponsorship to facilitate his passage north. Just him, some optimism, and a guitar, but storybook endings have no place in the boy's life and harpering turned out to be a sad excuse for an apprenticeship.

The hall was inhospitable and cruel. Having lived his entire life at the pacifistic weyr, it seemed there could be no starker opposite than the dark, cloistered environment of the Harper Hall. The craft and holdbred kids found him to be incredibly strange, though their mockery was forgettable in the face of teacher's criticisms. First it was his voice...his voice, how can he sing so hackishly? What was that a yodel? Kept him quiet they did, making him the lute playing accompaniment standing apathetically in the back. Boredom then bred discontent, discontent honed his trademark sarcasm, and his sarcasm earned him enemies. All the wrong enemies, and before his apprenticeship could be finished he was rewarded with a smack in the mouth, a black eye, and a message that not so nicely told him to come back when he learned some manners. At very least though, the hall did teach him one thing, and that was how to use his words.

By the time he returned, at the age of sixteen, things were hardly getting any better. Torino, his mother whined to him, had ran off with some trade caravan like the circus people in children's stories, but even worse was that his father had long been lost to a particularly nasty Threadfall - a fact conveniently ignored in family correspondences with him - and there was no time to adjust or mourn when there was among the many changes a new Weyrwoman, a new Weyrleader, and his sleepy southern home all caught up in the strife of the north. He was back in time enough to narrowly avoid the Weyrling Massacre, but not to miss the fall out, nor the death of Shmee a turn later. The rapid decay of Selenitas was not lost on him nor did it do much to cure him of his cynical ways and instead allowed for his disdain and suspicions of authority to fester. The sentiments were full blown by the time of the Siege and Kasella survived not by teamwork but again on his lone wolf instincts and the probably less than willing company of fellow candidates Burena and Thora.

3011 - 3015 - Along Came a Dragon

Eventually, along with the two girls, he finally Impressed and to the last dragon hatched - the little pale brown Pettahth who threatened to harm him should he keep up his doom and gloom - and a similar story happened in regards to his first firelizard Eyesore. At 18 Turns old, it seemed things were picking up for him in terms of friendships and enemies such as that meddling woman Nephele, but as always time to celebrate was short lived, first Northern riders organized an attempted raid of the following clutch. The newly named K'sel found himself again in the midst of conflict by pure accident and survived the situation by burying a knife in a rider's neck, little that he knew then that his survival instincts were cementing deep within him and as much as he hated the world around him, he wanted to be alive only to act as a spoiler for fate. It was not long after then that his budding friendships with his fellow weyrlings fell apart as they all succumbed to the plague that ran rampant through the south. As hard as it is to believe, K'sel and Brown Pettahth were the last pair left of an entire clutch and had to attend lessons by themselves. He was becoming assured that everyone in his life, died or disappeared due to only his touch.

And so for a while there he was looking awfully lonely. All he had was Pettahth and a couple of flits as friends while his inner misanthrope disallowed the company of others save the occasional word battle with the before mentioned Nephele. If you keep your friends close, you keep your enemies closer and that is exactly what he did with the younger weyrling. The strategy was perfect to a fault and even he knew - stubbornly - that there was a chemistry to their snarking. Even newcomers like Erilena (who against all odds adopted him as a brother) saw it and tried to play match maker. You ask him though, he is a hopeless lost cause, for despite all attempts and well wishes he can do nothing be perpetuate hate fetishes and feels forever stuck in the first half of an unending romantic comedy - the annoying exposition where heads butt without any resolution.

And he continues to be afraid that there will never be solace for himself or his bankrupt heart.

3015 - 3017 - Off the Beaten Path

Not when he is still a drifter... or rather stuck a drift. Perhaps he had given destiny the bird too many times before life vexed him not with it's betrayal but by giving him exactly what he had wanted. K'sel had always been something of a mixed and conflicted bag, it had been known of his love for nature's freedom, and more importantly his distaste and hate for the authority that bound him at the Weyr. At the same time he protected his native land as he was sworn to (and wanted to if only for his mother) and the fiercely loyal Pettahth insisted. When Wasteland attacked however he found that fighting was not an option, and rather than be bound by the heavier chains of the enemy disappeared between to the sunny glade that had been sent to him hastily by Saboth. It was there that he had met up with both F'ur and A'emi, both of whom were conjured up by the same coordinates and in their moments of shock were required to come up with a plan.

While some were left to stay imprisoned in their own Weyr and others cast into secrecy at Burimyu, the three stooges musketeers that their little squad made were taking a different route. They refused to call it hiding - there is some sense of revenge or retribution amongst them - but instead they survive in more unconventional ways. They may be doubling as caravan traders or scraping by as ghost hunters in the desert, but as men of many hats they made the jungles and badlands their homes and their domains. K'sel seemed to embrace to to an extreme degree, declaring himself King of the Hobos, a title which nobody attempted to take from him, even to this very day. Perhaps because with the honor came all the downsides of itinerant life: bad dinners, bad hygiene and definitely some bad smells. This was a lifestyle that lasted not for days or weeks, but two Turns that were punctuated only by a brief gather appearance to fill their starving eyes with old friends and memories. It may have been this very moment that catalyzed the movement to find the secret weyr known as Burimyu.

Really, there was no telling, but things started to spiral very fast. F'lix, presumed dead, at least in K'sel's mind, reappeared to join their group. With this addition, A'emi split off leaving K'sel as the awkward third wheel. He didn't quite understand the dynamic, but the tension in the group suddenly came to a slow simmer, and the brownrider immediately regretted not taking off with his greenriding friend. Instead he stuck around to search for Burimyu with the other two blueriders until he instincts roused him from his sleep and away from the camp. The solo wanderings lead him, in a nearly divine manner to a long lost friend: Nephele. Despite their rendezvous on the beach, the greenrider couldn't lead him back to her secret home, he'd have to wait a while more yet for the woman to secure him the proper passage.

With this in mind, he laid low in the jungles, now fully separated from any of the others he had been traveling with. Biding his time he waited for a moment to hook up with the other exile riders. He'd been clued in somewhat that they'd be through the area, he just wasn't sure when, so he stuck primarily to trade routes, hoping to catch rumors if nothing else. Instead what he found was an attempted raid being intercepted by a Wasteland led Selenitas. Finding it all too easy to pick a side, he and Pettahth jumped into action, eventually coming to the aid of Ismaroth, who led them back to Burimyu. Once there, he began to slowly pull together his life again, finding himself bunking up with Nephele - whether she liked it or not - and reuniting with his brother who had apparently become blueweyrling T'ri.

3017 - 3023? - I am a Grown Man

K'sel would be the first to point out the irony in that the splitting of the earth is what brought the Selenites back together. One catastrophe and everyone came back, including his mother and his adopted sister. It seemed that with this tiding, things slowly simmered down for a strange lull. He was living in a weyr again. A real one that was full... and actually in a wing at that... Ismaroth's love for Pettahth got him landed in Legatus. Just when things seemed to be going fairly normal, he realized his next big hurdle to jump over. One minute he was playing with his new puppy, and the next he was going to be a father.... and he was completely petrified.

He took it like a champ though, and made the daring attempt to be the good Weyrmate to Nephele that he knew that he could be, and in July of 3018 they had their son Kephe. Things seemed to move briskly from then on, with their son bounced between capable hands as the proud parents found themselves a little... preoccupied.

By the end of the turn an alliance with J'lorin's Benden was reforged and riders were filtering up north to battle in skirmishes under Benden's colors. Legatus was in overdrive preparing for a long overdue operation that came to fruition the next year. His wing joined with Benden black ops to infiltrate Fort Weyr and bring an end to the Dragon Wars. Needless to say, the wounds that resulted were most definitely worth it, but just when he thought he would finally get to settled down with his family in his home in the south, he found himself feeling betrayed and marginalized again by the powers that be. His family was being moved north to help build and live in the new Inverness Weyr. While adventure was always something he treasured, he became disdainful of being forced with no choice in the manner.

Clearly they didn't know who they were dealing with... though to be honest he has yet to come up with any revenge besides being a dick to every dignitary he encounters and slyly teaching Kephe to make fun of Weyrleaders and Lord Holders.... along with good manners. You have to be smart about it after all.

Growing up determined not to be a pussyfoot, Pettahth is a bit more intense and driven than he might have been. He understands his place in society, and does his best to make the most out of every situation. The Brown is stubborn and often refuses to give an inch when it came to his rights or responsibilities. This work ethic, he feels is important to make it in the world, and in the Weyr. He will never ask someone to do something that he himself cannot or will not do, and he tries to respect the limitations of others. Pettahth pushes himself as hard as he can and expects no less of those around him. The Brown believes that the best way to get a job done right is to do it yourself, and he will work on a project or goal until it is complete.

As a leader, Pettahth is no-nonsense and demanding, but despite that, he is still fair. Although, his stubbornness and doggedness can rub some Dragons the wrong way. To those he considers friends, the Brown is loyal and friendly, frequently putting his close friends above everything else, including himself. Despite his occasional overbearing attitude, when he loosens up, he can be a lot of fun. While in the aspects of love, Pettahth probably won't settle down with a single female. Ultimately, he dreams about finding a female who is his match intellectually, and will fight with him to the end. But finding that one Female will be a challenge, for he has high regards for his intelligence, and is very picky about it.

Small. A single word could describe this Brown. Head, tail, legs, wings, body... Everything in proportion, but every thing smaller than it should be. Fully grown, Pettahth is about the size of a medium/large Blue, and if not for his particular coloring, he'd probably could have been confused for one too. Not one to be left behind, the Brown has astonishingly good Endurance despite his small size, he will /almost/ be able to fly a full thread fall. Although he might never have a change to even try and fly a Queen, he'll most likely be able to keep up with whatever challenges a Green flight might throw at him, his smaller stature allowing him a faster speed.

Fitting in with the rest of the Clutch, the Brown is definitely not as dark as his Clutchbrother Trondoth... not by a long shot, you could even go as far as to say he's on the other side of the Brown Spectrum. A sort of sandy tan color, Pettahth looks as though he's been left out in the sun for to long, and definitely more than once. Small flecks of a darker Brown disturb the pale coloration, looking like the freckles humans can obtain, especially the large smattering of the spots across the bridge of his Maw. Other than a few flecks of the Chocolate here and there, Pettahth is just simply colored. Nothing at all really spectacular about it.

Puppy roly-poly body will quickly slim into elegance on this canine; she’s built lean and leggy with thick fur and an overly fluffy tail. Despite her undeniable femininity, she’s large enough to be impressive in her strength, to say nothing of her speed, and she’s casually graceful—not without her puppyish bounds and leaps and gamboling, but nonetheless a level of regality present in her movements. Her ears fold over to frame a slender face with obvious shepherd influences, with expressive and extraordinarily intelligent eyes. Fur is thickest along her chest and underbelly, and by no means thin anywhere else; she’s perpetually well-insulated, to say the least.

In color the female is a medley of soft grays, light browns, and downy white, speckled with darker blotches. Striping down her face and over her muzzle is a clean white, which continues down her throat, underbelly, and forelegs in true husky fashion; lighter brown appears in large splotches over each side of her face, over an eye of dark brown and an eye of blue in particular, and over her chest and sides, outlining a warm gray that tops her head and ears and spills down her back, sides, and hindquarters. Finally, near-black dapples over her face and down her back, appearing in random patterns over her body.

Warmly intelligent and companionable, this female is positively the epitome of everything you would want in a dog (and large amounts of fur are simply part of the package). She’ll be easily housebroken and trained to the commands of her master, but while she’ll be friendly enough to other people she’s very much a one-person dog. Whoever spends the most time and affection with her will have her utter loyalty, fierce protection, and complete obedience. Others…well, she’ll be polite, but she’s expressive enough with eyes and ears, tail and body, that it’s obvious that she’s suffering them to coo over her and she’d much rather be with her master only.

She’ll be as excitable and exhaustive as any puppy, but as she grows this female will become a creature of habit—likes her day to go in just the same way every time, although she sure won’t say no to little treats being snuck in. And although she’s fairly quiet—barking will be generally rare for her—she’s also very energetic; she’ll demand exercise of some form once a day at least, or her owner will suffer the restlessness later, generally in the form of demanded affection and attention…and it’s not that she won’t stop if she’s asked (or told, as the case may be) but she’s not above sulking, either.

A very large creature, this bronze firelizard will very easily match, if not surpass, the smaller golds, in length, not including his tail – though his tail would definitely clinch the matter, if his long body had not before, for his tail is almost ridiculously long and can serve almost as a prehensile limb, capable of curling quite easily around things. On any other firelizard, his tail might have looked rather ridiculous due to its length, but this bronze’s body seems to somehow fit the length of his tail: Along with being long, he has a very slender, sinuous body; very distinctly feline-like is his body, with muscles rippling just under his hide, without making him look bulky in the least, and a distinctly predatory way of moving, his body twisting with each step to show off every muscle. His strength is emphasized by very long, wide wings that will carry him with incredible ease, and even allow him complicated aerial maneuvers usually limited to smaller firelizards.

Very, very dark is his hide, to the point of being easily mistaken for black, though the bronze highlights to his hide, along with his size and musculature, make it clear that he is a bronze. The highlights along his hide are not limited to a particular shade of bronze; rather, it seems as if a rainbow of bronzes was overlaid with black, for red, orange, and a mossy color, as well as a bronze so light as to appear gold, and a flash that looks more brown than bronze, are all visible on his hide from the right angles. It would have been incredibly easy for this bronze to all but disappear in the shadows – had it not been for the stripes: streaks of a golden-bronze, dark, but not nearly dark enough to blend with the rest of his hide, sprawl over his wing membranes, looking very much like the stripes of a tabby feline: Fortunately for him (whenever he wants to hide, that is) these can be more or less hidden when he completely furls his wings.

No firelizard should have the right to be as intelligent as this bronze very clearly is – he seems to understand concepts that most firelizards wouldn’t have even a chance of grasping, and his image-work is as sharp as any dragon’s – though whether or not it is entirely accurate will often be questioned, for this bronze, very much aware of his superior intelligence, seems to like to be deliberately confusing just to make his Bonded flail, and might tweak his images, leaving out the most important detail, to please himself. Further, his Bonded should be very, very careful in how he utters commands to this bronze; there’s no doubting that he could probably complete anything that His asks – or at least, understand it without trouble – but that doesn’t mean he will, and he takes pride in being able to perform exactly what His has said – wrong. Somehow, he’ll twist the meaning into something else entirely; pauses for breath may be taken for a full stop, which might entirely change the command; he might ‘mishear’ a stammer; any way he can ‘accidentally’ discomfit his Bonded will amuse him highly.

He is, however, in no way malicious; he’s simply a playful firelizard, though he does have a penchant for mocking people – whether be it by imitating their speech in twitters or mimicking somebody’s strutting behind their back – and other firelizards; it’s likely that being around this bronze will earn laughter aplenty – as long as it is not you on the receiving end of this bronze’s…talents. He may be also mistaken as arrogant, for he seems to like perching up as high as he can, be it on the top of a wardrobe or on a tree branch, which means he almost invariably looks down on the people below him. It isn’t actually because he’s arrogant that he does this; he simply likes high places, and will go out of his way to find somewhere high up that he can comfortably perch, and all the better if he can look down and see everybody below him and observe everything going on…

This flit is remarkably large for a blue firelizard. He’ll measure nose to tail the same length as an average brown firelizard, although he is by no means as muscular as one. This isn’t to say he’s sickly thin though. Nope not at all. Instead he is long and lithe, having a shape more resembling a flying serpent than a firelizard. A pretty triangular head is set on an abnormally long neck. His body his also very thin and actually gives the appearance of being shorter than normal. However it is anything but. The illusion that it is comes from the fact that his neck and tail are so long. In fact the blue’s tail is so long that looks more like it belongs on a mandyr more than a flit. He will be extremely fond of curling this tail around things to anchor himself. His wings are long and wide allowing him great maneuverability in the air. In fact this little guy is quite fond of showing off his aerial prowess and with his thin and whippy body he is able to twist himself into all sorts of interesting shapes as well as perform tricks a flitter his size rightly shouldn’t be able to.

In coloration he is actually rather pretty. Perhaps to make up for the fact that his body is a tad odd shaped. All over he is a rather dark pretty blue, the color almost looking iridescent in direct sunlight. A lighter almost electric sky blue shade solidly colors just his underbelly and appears in speckles all over the rest of his body breaking up the uniform dark blue. A spattering of the small bright blue dots across his muzzle also almost gives him the appearance of having freckles. The light blue speckles seem to follow no particular symmetry or pattern. They just appear in random clusters and volumes all over his body. As if someone had used a paintbrush to flick bright blue paint over him.

This little blue is, for the most part, the easiest going firelizard you’ll ever find. He's also very affectionate towards his bonded. In fact he’s normally perfectly content to just wrap himself around his bonded’s bicep or neck and just chill. Hang out. Whatever you want to call it. He’s actually extremely laid back and hard to rile which is probably a good thing considering he likes to be present around his bonded at all times. This isn’t to say that he’s exactly lazy though. No he’ll do things when he’s prodded to do them he just prefers to lay about and watch. Tasks will be completed as quickly and efficiently as possible so that he can return to his as soon as possible. Some might call him a tad clingy and really they wouldn’t be exactly wrong. He does tend to cling after all.

That isn’t to say the blue isn’t without his vices. In fact he has a very big one. See this flit is actually quite the alcoholic. Yes he likes his booze. Quite a lot actually. Although it can be argued that this behavioral facet to him isn’t particularly the healthiest, he really seems no worse for wear despite his binge drinking behavior. Yes when this little guy does indulge in his guilty pleasure he doesn’t do it lightly. Nope. In fact the flitter likes to get himself completely smashed. At least he isn’t a mean drunk?

In fact his personality takes an interesting turn. He goes from laid back to quite the daredevil, showing off for anyone and everything. He’ll chatter in a friendly manner to anyone who will pay attention, flirt with anything even remotely resembling a female no matter the species and, if that wasn’t enough, will often break into obnoxious sing song whistling tunes. Yep he turns from wallflower to the life of the party complete with favors. Thankfully his endearing, or perhaps obnoxious, behavior ends as soon as the blue has had enough to sufficiently pass out. Problem is as this behavior continues his tolerance will grow and grow. His will have to carefully limit his consumption if they view the behavior as a problem.

To others of his species this blue is normally rather friendly. Perfectly content to exchange greetings and hold polite conversation at the very least. However unless he’s drunk he doesn’t seem interested in anything more than that, polite conversation. Mandyrs are something of a novelty to him and he will find most of them interesting to watch. But that’s as far as his relationship concerning them will go. They are a rather unattractive species after all, and rather abrasive. No besides the occasional interest in their behavior he is content to leave them well enough alone. In matters of chasing he seems to have no particular favorites. Nope he’s content to chase whatever little pretty goes up. Unless it’s a mandyr. If he participates in mandyr runs at all it will only be when he’s quite inebriated. Which…probably isn’t all that unlikely.

Even for a blue, this little fellow is tiny. Very, very tiny. His wingspan is about the size of an average green's, if he stretches as much as he possibly can, and his wings are cut slender, like he's flying on two razors. These trim sails allow for him to turn very quickly, but prevent him from the long, drawn out flights of larger blues and the bigger colors in general; thus, his stamina is actually very low. His speed, on the other hand, is deadly, most often emphasized by how fast he darts around. His body is small and compact, pure muscle but on the bulky side, leading toward powerful, quick bursts of speed like a flash of color before one's eyes rather than a creature identifiable as a firelizard. His legs are small for his body, somewhat scrunched up, but not unattractively so, while his tail is actually quite long and more like a salamandyr's than his own species. At a glance, he has a comical look, bizarre angles with sharp ridges up his back and ridiculously sharp and long claws, but only a fool would mistake him for helpless. Small doesn't necessarily mean weak.

Dangerous creatures often have bright colors in nature, to ward off predators; this little blue is a classic example of such coloration. His hide is a very vibrant, almost shocking aquamarine, visible even in the darkest rooms. However, it's far from purely one color; no, nothing so simple as that. Down his back are jagged, darker blue shades like diamond patterns, moving all around his back ridges before spreading out to color the bone structure of his wings on both the inside and the outside; this shade of blue is closer to navy. The insides of these markings is an entirely different shade of blue as well, coming to a pale powdery shade sure to catch second and third glances. The same hue spills down around his feet, except where his claws connect, where the dark navy lines - drawing emphasis to them, and leaving no question to just how deadly those claws could be. Royal blue is splashed on as accent, as if he was rolled in some kind of fruit juice; the marks seem to drip down the sides of his neck and over his tail, like a liquid finish. He's definitely vibrant.

Very quiet for a firelizard, this little guy is excellent at going unnoticed. In fact, it's one of his favorite things to do - perching in high up places, or out of the way corners, and just watching, studying, learning to understand everything around him. He's very observant, and notices things faster than the average blue firelizard. His quiet nature means most wouldn't even stop to give him a second thought, but just in case they do, the bright coloration hopefully will ward them off -- because he definitely is not a friendly sort. Only people and other flits that are bound and determined to be his friend will be, simply because he has no patience for other living creatures. His bonded is the only one he has any use for most of the time, and he's not above biting, scratching and otherwise being violent to ward off those who would try to befriend him. He doesn't want friends. He doesn't need them. This little blue is sure that he can take on the world entirely on his own and often goes out of his way to prove just that - his independent streak will lead him to roaming away from his chosen quite often, though he'll always return home in the end.

To the few people (and other creatures) he takes a fondness to, this firelizard is... almost entirely different from his aloof, cold exterior. He's extremely loyal, to the point of being willing to do anything (no matter what the risk to him is) to keep his favorites safe. And favorites can be singular or plural; it takes a lot to get close to him, but once someone has, he'll protect them nearly endlessly. Just so long as they don't betray that trust. He's always very quiet, but he's a good listener, and a great protector; His will never need to worry again, with him around, because this blue has no problem tearing apart anyone who proves themselves a threat. He's also very good at cheering up the few people he likes, though typically this is done through almost snarky, scolding chirps rather than gentle affection. His behavior outwardly does not change very often, after all. He's a perpetual grouch - but a loyal one, and very dedicated to the few things in life he cares for. No one can touch them; they're his.

It is really a shame when a creature so pretty will not be handled lightly. She prefers to tend to her own, though she will hang around the general vicinity of the one that feeds her. Not at all a very affectionate creature in the least, she really would rather to be left completely alone as she stares down the world around her. Often times she will be found perched on something high, out of reach, staring intently at everything – especially things that move. She is highly suspicious of anything, really, but it is a passive suspicion, as she usually utterly fails to do anything about anything. It's really not worth her effort, after all.

When she does decide she needs or wants something (usually food) she gets really loud and obnoxious about it. Whatever it is she wants, it had best be tended to right now. Not later. Now. Once she gets it, though, she goes right back to her aloof mannerisms, staring at or ignoring people alternately.

The colors of green on this little lady vary like ripples of water down the length of her body, starting just behind her earknobs and running all the way down her tail. Some might even argue that the lines are not waves at all, but tabby stripes – just in green. A series of darker green stripes range over her body, on a lighter emerald green base. She is not entirely green, however, as the end of her snout, all four feet, and the last inch of her tail are all such a pale green as they appear to be white. These areas only betray their pale green nature when laid against true-white objects, at which time the green tinge becomes apparent.

She is a very finely built creature with long limbs, neck, and tail, her wings light and long. A picture of grace, her form is all smooth lines that curve graciously from one point to the next. Her movements mirror this physical grace, as well, whether walking, bouncing, or flying, every movement is as fluid as water.