Post by Zephyr on Dec 1, 2011 1:39:57 GMT -5
Humans:
Name: Tekivix (Teh-kih-viks)
Age: 21 Turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual; Possibly bisexual
Rank: Greenhandler
Physical Appearance:
One would have to be relatively delusional to describe Vix as “masculine”, but he’s not really “pretty” either – more of a mix of the two. The boy’s face is narrow, with a defined jaw sliding sharply down to a pointed chin. His lips are perhaps a tad too full, somber and soft pink, usually pulled into a half-hearted scowl and rarely relaxing. Vix’s eyes are wide, but not large, irises such a dark brown they could pass for black, framed by thick lashes. His nose is straight, narrow and long, and brushed with the light gold freckles, barely visible against the paleness of his skin.
Vix’s hair is dark brown, falling in bangs swept sideways across his forehead and grazing straight, dark eyebrows. It’s relatively long, coming to rest along the nape of his neck, and perhaps the best way to describe it is fluffy. And stubborn, if the two can somehow mesh; Vix can paw at it as much as he wants, but it remains in the same style, every day, and in the end, Vix never has the patience to fret with it for more than a few minutes. He keeps it, at least, short enough that it’s never in his way.
He doesn’t cut an intimidating figure. Vix isn’t tall, but neither is he short, standing at an unimpressive height of 5’8”. His shoulders aren’t as broad as they should be, sliding into a body best described as “athletic”: Not slender enough to be feminine, not muscular enough to be masculine. There’s the barest definition of muscling in his arms, legs, and abdomen, but most clothing very effectively hide all of it. His feet have the slightly overlarge appearance that comes from a growth spurt, but they’ve been that way awhile and Vix’s body has showed no sign of wanting to catch up in the near future – and Vix’s hands aren’t; they’re thin, with slender fingers, but not overly long.
Clothing-wise, Vix just doesn’t seem to care. His style is simple, bland, and generally unimpressive, tending towards loosely clinging, light neutrals and the occasional darker brown. Typically Vix rolls back his sleeves to keep them out of the way, applying a safety pin just so they don’t fall back over his hands (yes, his shirt sleeves are usually that long and that loose). Pants generally go ignored after they get put on, which means that they hang low and loose on his hips, and pool around his feet when he’s not moving.
Personality: Tekivix is not the type of person who absorbs compliments well. Perhaps this is the reason that, instead, several choice descriptions have been applied to him. Crazy. Weird. Mean. And, in all honesty, those do fit Vix quite well. The boy – for while his age may grant him the title of ‘adult’, still thinks of himself as a ‘boy’ – is, simply put, socially inept. It’s difficult to say whether this is because he really can’t relate to people, or because he just doesn’t care enough to try – or whether it’s just a mix of both, and then some. Whatever the reason, Vix rarely attempts to make friends, and expects other people to leave him alone, too.
He’s always been a loner, the odd one out, the last one picked for childhood games, the one that ate apart – and Vix likes it that way. He avoids large crowds as much as he can, preferring to isolate himself completely from the rest of the world, and if he manages to piss someone off because he skipped something important, well, that’s just too bad. Abrasive and impatient, Vix certainly isn’t prime company in any sense of the word. He tends to being deliberately cold and sarcastic to anyone who approaches him in an attempt to drive them away and get them to leave him alone. It’s difficult to draw anything other than a patronizing smile from Vix and nigh on impossible to actually make him laugh purely out of joy.
In situations where he actually needs to care, though, Vix can be useful – really. His mind is organized, careful, practical, and he’s definitely intelligent, and it’s rare that he allows fear to fog that up. However, his intelligence is more or less all he’s good for, because Vix can’t fight. He’s okay at basic self-defense (which means that, facing one person at or slightly above his own skill level, he can fend for himself, but only himself, and any more than that means only if luck favors him that particular day) but Vix isn’t a physically violent creature and never will be; he never bothered learning past what he thought was ‘necessary’.
When he’s by himself, Vix becomes…obsessive. He’s an inventor of the most juvenile kind, taking things apart to see how they work and putting them back together, losing himself in the mechanics of this-makes-this-happen and if-I-do-this-that-changes. Occasionally he’s actually made things of his own, little toys for the most part that operate on basic physics, which have been discarded almost instantly; Vix is definitely a perfectionist and even the littlest mistake from himself won’t be tolerated. Absolutely won’t be.
History: Vix was born the first day of a new Turn, the first child to be born in upper-class Igen Hold in 2996. It was nothing more than coincidence, but nonetheless, his mother, Tekiravi, considered it a sign of luck, and doted on him for it. And she could afford to dote, buy him the best of everything, because her husband, Viraxel, adored her and would allow her anything – at first. The couple was all but newly-wed, and the infatuation of first love had not yet worn away. Viraxel’s father, as it was, provided most of the money needed to support them, for it was through he that their rank within the Hold came from, and Viraxel had been spoiled as a child – he wanted nothing to do with work, only with leisure and his wife.
With money coming in from a steady source (Viraxel’s father showed no sign of ending his support of his eldest son) and nothing that demanded their attention other than Vix, both Tekiravi and Viraxel were always near their child and both of them were kind to him, patient, understanding, and completely inexperienced. Vix grew up spoiled. He was quick at learning new words, how to get his demands across, and that only made it worse; with each new word that left the baby’s mouth, Tekiravi in particular doted upon him even more.
It was just before Vix’s fifth birthday that Viraxel and his father had a falling-out. What it was about, Vix was far too young to comprehend – he didn’t even know, at the time, that it had happened. All the child knew was that the comforts he’d come to expect, the attention and the feeling of being the most important, being loved, being real to his parents, vanished. Indeed, even Viraxel’s affection towards his wife became muted, more distant, as he struggled to find a way to gain a steady foothold in the Hold’s functions, a way to earn a decent pay.
Unfortunately for Viraxel, Tekiravi was a needy creature, dependent on attention other than her child’s, and she found it in another man. Vix never learned of his identity; he knew only that it was the cause for his parents splitting up, his father taking him along and leaving his mother alone as a final spite. Vix never saw his mother again, and it was then that his father adopted the nickname Vix – the man didn’t want any memory of what had once been a happy marriage. Bad enough that Vix, growing rapidly, was showing signs of taking after his mother; the darkness of hair and paleness of skin, the same eyes.
In the end, though, Viraxel just didn’t care about Vix in the same way his ex-wife had. He indulged the boy, but for the most part, his attentions went to his new role as a Beastcrafter and Vix was left to amuse himself. His first amusements ended badly. He’d never really socialized before except in situations where his parents were watching, careful to make sure no harm would come his way, and his first interaction with children his age resulted in a bloody nose and a badly wounded ego.
And Vix didn’t try again. He’d wanted attention, but not this kind. He avoided the children, whose names he never discovered, even after Viraxel, exasperated and slightly annoyed, taught him self-defense; how to dodge, anticipate, block, disable. Vix was good, but he simply didn’t want to learn anything other than the basics, and after awhile, Viraxel stopped trying to get through to his son, irritated by his unresponsive coolness.
As Vix grew, he became more and more isolated, and often lingered indoors all day after he’d finished what little chores Viraxel decided were his responsibility, finding simple things in the room to take apart, picking with his nails at wooden bolts and screws, laying everything before him on the table, and fitting it back together again. His father never knew what amusement he derived from it; certainly Vix never smiled or laughed to himself while he puzzled over what lay before him. But it distracted him, and that was good enough for Viraxel.
He never told Vix about the war, about the Weyr. The only memories of ancient dragonlore that Vix held were from the time of his mother. For Vix, the world was as big or as small as he wanted it to be, and contained what he wanted it to. It was a satisfying way of life, but as Vix neared his twelfth Turn, Viraxel finally shoved him out into the world again, apprenticing him to a Master Beastcrafter at Igen who worked with runners. The man didn’t like children, and, he made it clear, he especially didn’t like Vix, who was clumsy, inept, even afraid of the runners.
The Master’s sharp cynical taunting as he instructed his apprentice might have been effective in encouraging other boys to work harder in an effort to please him, but Vix wasn’t one of them. Furious at being shoved out in the heat of Igen Hold, angry, hurt, confused, he rebelled, determined to be the worst apprentice, to make every step of the way as difficult for his Master as it was for him. The verbal lashings degenerated into physical striking very soon, and while Vix knew very well he couldn’t respond in kind, he could and did try to earn the man’s fury at every opportunity.
The other apprentices avoided him, and for his part, Vix detested them, for obeying so effortlessly everything the Master Beastcrafter asked of them, for earning his praise so easily. Despite his digging in his heels, though, Vix did learn – but he didn’t give anything to show for it. For all the Master knew, he was just as useless as a proper Crafter as he’d been when the apprenticeship began.
After three more apprentices came and passed Vix in terms of skill, the Master finally gave up. Viraxel received his son back – a cold, sarcastic, bitter caricature of the boy he’d sent away, a creature who wanted nothing more than to just be left alone. And Viraxel, despairing and with no idea how to handle Vix, then fourteen, just left him alone, as he wanted. Vix lapsed back into his old ways, staying indoors and away from human company, taking things apart, putting them back together, restlessly, but it had changed. He knew, then, of the war, the animosity between Weyrs.
And he didn’t care, and it bothered him. He felt like he should care, but he…couldn’t bring himself to. His father was the more imminent problem. The man was kind (to him, and Vix didn’t care about how he treated anyone else), but more or less utterly hopeless as a father, and their relationship was deteriorating rapidly. Vix’s only interest lay in what could be dismantled around the house, improved upon, what could be made, and the number was dropping with every passing day.
When his father died, Vix was nearing his eighteenth birthday. The girl who brought him the news, the local gossip, had probably been expecting some breakdown, hysteria, upset, emotion, as she described how Viraxel had angered two highly intoxicated men and they’d beaten him – to death. The response she received was a blank stare, one eyebrow curving, before Vix said, simply, “Okay.” Part of him, at the time, just didn’t believe her – but as time drew on and his father did not return, Vix still found that he wasn’t truly upset.
Mildly so, of course. Distressed that he was alone, would have to rely on himself for food, money, shelter, everything – but not personal grief at his loss.
For awhile, Vix managed to survive, but it wasn’t going to last and he wasn’t stupid enough to delude himself into thinking otherwise. Vix left Igen Hold with a trade caravan heading for Keroon. The Beastcraft Hall was located there, and Beastcraft – it wasn’t something he was fond of, but he knew some of it, and it seemed a…logical…place to go. The runners would be familiar, at least. But upon arrival, Vix couldn’t fit in. In hindsight, he also didn’t try very hard, but the people at Keroon Hold seemed to generally have a sense of urgency, of limited time, and growing up at Igen Hold, kept away from what passed as bustle there, had not prepared him at all.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise when Vix took the easy way out again. Perhaps the South would be better; it would be warmer, and warmth bred laziness, didn’t it? In any case, the South housed the dolphineers, and Vix didn’t think he minded that terribly. Hopefully they were cleverer than runners, in any case. A ship heading South gave passage to Southern, the nearest Hold, and Vix took it, intending to move directly from Southern to Blossom. Arriving directly in the middle of a Gather…had not been part of his plan.
He stayed away from the Gather for the most part, intent on taking apart a starscope he’d found left behind, but instead, he ran into a bluerider while he was trying to escape from a couple of young men he’d gotten into a spat with. Dragging the bluerider (later discovered to be T’ke of Garaeth) along, Vix unknowingly pulled him directly to the dragons – and, once he figured out that he was a Rider, wheedled a ride out of him – to Selenitas, where he could stick around as a Candidate before he left for Blossom.
It was just a few more weeks, months, maybe, in which he wouldn’t have to do anything…
The Weyr was stunning. As a Candidate, Vix had to do chores (which he adamantly avoided), attend lessons (not much better), and shared a room with other Candidates. And there were entirely too many flittery winged things around for his liking, really. Still, Vix kept mostly to himself. Oh, he had the occasional run-in with this-Candidate or that one or some random person, but he never tried to keep attachments or really become friends.
He was just going to leave, after all, and he didn’t want it to hurt when he did. However, the universe had other plans. Woken in the middle of the night, Vix didn’t really attend the wher Hatching so much as watch it from the doorway – he hadn’t recognized the call for what it was. He’d figured on just hanging around since he’d already gone all the way there, and then leaving. He hadn’t figured on a green (the first to Hatch, too) claiming him as her own.
Her name was Tekivisk, and she terrified him. She loved him and she wanted to stay with him forever and Vix didn’t know how to cope with that, didn’t know how to reciprocate appropriately, and her attachment to him, the intimacy the Bond guaranteed – all of it was alien and scared him to death.
Vix didn’t adjust. ‘Dysfunctional’ became the best way to describe his relationship with Tekivisk, the green always trying to press closer to him, be with him, be allowed to curl up next to him and nuzzle him and just love him and Vix pushing her away constantly. Things didn’t get easier when, eating in the Main Hall, his roommate’s gold Salamandyr’s clutch Hatched – and a little blue nuisance (again the first to Hatch) attached itself to him.
The Salamandyr remained unnamed for almost an entire sevenday. Vix hoped desperately that if he just ignored him, he’d go away – but no, the creature was as permanently Bonded as Tekivisk was, and he was finally named, grudgingly, Rook, after ‘Pawn’ was rejected by Tekivisk. Things still weren’t wonderful and brilliant and perfect, everything was just as skewed as ever…but they were slowly fixing themselves. That was, until Tekivisk's maiden run. In the end, the sweet green chose not one but two suitors for the evening; Konstask and Darmosk.
The Wasteland invasion wasn’t something that really affected Vix’s day to day life. For the most part, the wherhandlers were spared the worst of the dragonrider drama, and Vix's self-isolation seems to push him even further from the rider politics. This doesn't mean he's completely oblivious of it. One would have to live under a rock not to notice the change in regime. It irritated him to a certain extent. The awkward balance he had between himself, wher and salamandyr was tolerant at best, dysfunctional at worst, and anything that threatened to topple that balance was seen as a threat, and someting to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, the invasion didn't really reach to him, and he found himself more and more isolated as the wastelanders solidified themselves as a part of Selenitas in a desire not to come into contact with any of the wastelanders.
His life would be skewed even further when Tekivisk brought home a firelizard egg. She had actually wanted to save it, not thinking about what would happen if it hatched in her possession. Unfortunately for the green, that's exactly what happens...and all over Vix's pillow to boot. At first, the boy wasn't willing to accept the strange bronze firelizard who wanted to cuddle him straight from the egg. Whatever part of Vix's anatomy he could get a hold of he cuddled like none other. It's hard not to fall in love with something as inherently sweet and loving as this bronze, and reluctantly, Vix found himself being pulled to the firelizard's charms.
The Selenitas earthquake was met with quiet resistance on Vix's part, irritation and anger. He didn't want to be forced out of his isolated existence to help anyone. There's no way he could have not helped though, not with Ki whining at him, and that she would go save people with or without him but that she wished so very much that he would join her. Reluctantly, the green wher dragged him out of his apartment, and he joined the other handlers, albeit somewhat grudgingly, extracting people from the heavy stone and escorting injured people to the makeshift infirmary. Afterwards, it seemed he still wouldn't be left in peace when the remaining selenitans were moved to the exile weyr called Burimyu. Now Vix is left with trying to build up some semblance of the life that he knew in Selenitas in New Selenitas. Unfortunately, one of his closest friends, Ximera of blue Ximask died in the earthquake...and immediately thereafter, Kostya and Knostask disappeared as well. Privately devastated by the abrupt disappearances of two of the very few people he let into his life, Vix became even more determined to not let anyone into his life again.
3018 - Receives another blow when his remaining friend Darmori get's killed in a monster attack. Tekivix was the one to find him, and acts somewhat recklessly. They bring Darmori and Darmosks' bodies back to the weyr.
3019-3023 - Vix continues his solitary existence. If anything, he curls in on himself more, emphatically refusing to let no one near him for fear of losing them like he did every single one of his friends. Unfortunately, Ki has to run and around the end of the five year period, she gets caught by blue Posk. The blue's handler, Portia gets pregnant and Tekivix suddenly finds himself a father. Great.
At least he has someone to look forward to now.
Candidates Only
Name Contraction (Males Only):
Queen Only? (Females Only):
Desired Dragon Color:
Dragon, Wher, or both?:
Dragons/Whers/Fire Lizards/Salamandyrs:
Name- Tekivisk
Color- Green (#99DD11; #337700)
Physical Appearance- In build this wher is very near to the ideal. Just enough hints of femininity while not seeming delicate or weak. She is small in size over all but nothing is out of proportion. Perfect, unfortunately (or fortunately), does not quite apply though it is a near fit. Not at all hindering but certainly a bit out of place is the fork on her tail. Or rather, the lack thereof. At the very end of her tail is a small indentation but no actual fork. The way this wher moves fully expresses her emotions at the time. If sad, she will hang her head and shuffle along. If she's happy she'll be bounding effortlessly. She is more comfortable on the ground but when she does glide it is no problem for her at all.
Her colouration is what knocks her down from near perfect to simply normal. Truly, it is a rather ugly yellow-green. It is a good thing this green is not in the least bit vain or else she would be in trouble! She got truly unlucky with her colouring for it is a bright colour and stands out in the night. At her extremities the colour darkens to a slightly more pleasant green. Along her back is a broad stripe of the same darker green that is lightly spotted with the yellow-green. Her wings are a solid yellow-green in colour and not very translucent. Almost any other colour and she would have been a true beauty.
Personality- Easily her most definable trait is just how expressive this green is. Any emotion she has very nearly radiates from her, almost as if she has an aura. It is a lucky thing that this wher is often happy. She likes everyone at first glance and continues to like them unconditionally if they don't hurt her or Hers in any way. Her mission seems to be trying to befriend anyone she meets. She is even quicker to try and form bonds with blue and brown whers and can indeed be a little flirt on occasion. Bronzes she will avoid in a sign of respect to queens for this green seems to know her 'place' very well. Obedient to a fault, she is. If a queen or Hers says to do anything she will do it without hesitation. Bronzes also have some influence on her though she won't blindly follow them.
She is not meant for solitary life at all. She becomes highly agitated any time she is without some kind of company. Her happiness is also highly dependant on Hers being nearby. She can manage being apart from them for a short amount of time but prolonged separation will make her howl to the heavens until they are reunited. Beyond the couple of quirks she has, this green is relatively normal. She does not get jealous nor is she obsessive. Hers has little to fear of this wher causing much trouble at all unless Hers requests that she make trouble.
Name- Rook
Color- Blue (#330979)
Species- Salamandyr
Appearance- This blue can probably be best described as adorable. He has a chubby round body and every part of him seems to be just as soft , round, and huggable looking. You couldn’t quite call him fat but nor is he skinny. Big boned might be an accurate description for him. Or maybe tubby. His nose is slightly turned up at the end and he has wide innocent looking eyes. His belly seems to jiggle as he literally bounces around and he seems to have a permanent mandyr smile on his little face. The spines ringing his head are thick and somehow soft looking, certainly not dangerous in the least. He still has the same lack of frill his siblings all display. His feet however seem overly large and it is a wonder he doesn’t trip over them. In fact he is surprising light on his feet for being such a big guy. His wings sadly are far to small for his body. They are clearly more for show than actual flight. He will sadly be unable to either glide or fly but that seems to be perfectly okay with him.
The color of his hide is a rich purple blue. Similar to the color of a blueberry. It isn’t a particularly unattractive shade but nor is it really remarkable. His hide also seems to lack the typical sheen some mandyrs possess. But it isn’t exactly dull either. From the tip of his nose to the end of his tail his hide is marked with thin brindle stripping of a lovely maroon shade. His wing membranes sport the same lovely markings as the rest of the clutch his consisting of a bright purple iris surrounding a bright yellow pupil.
Personality- Can you say sweet? This little guy just oozes charm. He seems to have a permanent smile on his face and it seems as if he is never in a bad mood. To be honest the level of sweetness he exudes most of the time might make some people nauseous. Unbeknown to anyone but his bonded he does have a slightly evil side. You see this mandyr loves sweets. To the point of obsession in fact. Every heard the phrase like taking candy from a baby? Well this guy would be the one to do just that. His love for sweets cannot possibly be healthy but this is one thing his bonded may never be able to break him of. In fact if he is not provided with sweets on a regular basis he becomes very sullen and grumpy. But only to his. To everyone else he is just as kind and happy to their face as always, but less than kind when their back is turned. He will be a frequent visitor to the creche no doubt simply to look for his favorite treat. If he does happen to be provided with is favorite treat he will always over indulge. Fortunately for him these binges do not result in him getting sick. Instead they result in a mandyr that literally bounces off the walls. Speaks a mile a minute and is basically the equivalent of a cat on cat nip. Spastic. Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately these bouts of insanity always end in the mandyr passing out. Pretty much literally. Bouncing one minute and then just suddenly collapsing into sleep like a narcoleptic. His bonded will have to keep a sharp eye on him to make sure he doesn’t pass out somewhere very inconvenient.
As far as speech goes this little guy is fairly loud and fond of broadcasting. Sadly he doesn’t pronounce things the best most of the time but what he lacks in pronunciation he makes up for in enthusiasm. He is fond of chattering. Especially when he is in one of his sugar highs. Then he tends to string his words together in one impossible to understand sentence. As far as other draconics go he tends to love company whether it be mandyr or flit and seems to be immune to any insults or nasty comments thrown his way. He is rubber they are glue as far as he is concerned. In matters of love he is just as enthusiastic as any other male would be. Should he ever catch however don’t expect him to remain loyal to his woman. There is plenty of him to go around after all. All he wants is a little sugar.
Name- Pawn
Color- Bronze (#A5B535)
Species- Firelizard
Appearance- While technically this fellow is a Bronze flitter, you wouldn't hardly think it to look at his actual color. There are rich bronzes, and gold bronzes, and red bronzes, but he had to have drawn the most odded shade of bronze in that he is a green bronze. While he still retains that undeniable metallic sheen to his hide, his color is closer to a strange yellow-green of tarnished bronze statue work left out in the weather too long. When his wings are open and the membranes are stretched out tight in strong light, a slight color variance can be seen that is otherwise concealed. There are needle-thin tracery lines in the membranes, swirling here and there in a most lovely fashion of scrollwork. These lines have considerably less green in them, showing more of a true bronze color to them. In just the right light, they can light up and really become noticeable. It is possible the same needle thin scrollwork lines run all over his body, but given that only his wing membranes ever get light shining through them to show them off, there really is no telling.
He is a most handsome bronze in configuration. Extremely well put together, he could be the model of what a flitter is supposed to be. His head is very handsomely crafted with finely detailed eye ridges and a tapering snout adorned with matching nostrils – one of them is not slightly bigger than the other, as can be found in many creatures. His knobs match perfectly, and grow from his head in just the perfect angle. His head ties into his neck quite nicely and securely. His neck is neither too long, too short, too thick, or too thin. This same excellent conformation follows through right down to the matching talons on his feet and the twin forks of his tail. A streamlined and aerodynamic Bronze, he will have absolutely no problems in ruling the skies when he takes flight. Strength ties in gracefully with stamina in this oddly colored but well put together flitter.
Personality- He is sweet. Almost too sweet. Scarily so, at some times. Hatched straight from the egg, his favorite thing to do is cuddle. It doesn't really matter with what or who, either. He will snuggle a canine's snout just as fast as he will the fingers of his owner. His owner might want to keep a close eye on him lest he get himself eaten while trying to be loving and cuddly. Even if who he is cuddling with doesn't cuddle back, he will still love all over them and pet himself with them. He doesn't seem to understand that not everyone likes to be touched or just really isn't that into hugs. Of course, if he finds something that likes to cuddle in return, he will really be on cloud nine and it may take an act of starvation to make him quit. Every great now and again when he just can't find anyone warm to snuggle with, he might be found wrapped around a wooden statuette or something, hugging on that instead. Anything that looks like it should be alive and cuddly. So what if it's stiff and rigid? So are a lot of the living beings he inflicts himself upon. He apparently can't tell the difference.
He doesn't have a thing for his reflection like some Bronzes do, but he does like to strut when he's going somewhere. A jaunty step here, a casual flip while flying … he knows he's got it. Never mind if he is colored funny. He is a fairly intelligent fellow barring his strange quirks, and he will be very easy to train to do tasks from general commands to guarding or courier work. Sit, stay, go, the rest of it. He doesn't even need treats to get him to do it. Just a pat or a cuddle is all he needs!
There is one strange quirk that he's got that seems to terrify all of the brown critters in his vicinity. As soon as he spots a brown flitter or salamandyr, he will take off after it and chase it until there just is no run left in it. Unlike those who catch something and then have no idea what to do with it, he knows exactly what to do with the browns he catches. He twirls all about the bewildered creature and cuddles them of course. While the browns afflicted might have started out terrified because a big nasty bronze was chasing them, there eventually might be some speculation toward if this Bronze is confused about what exactly browns are. But that's the only color he does this with; only browns get chased to exhaustion and then hugged to death. Should he happen across a brown dragon (which is entirely likely), it will probably be most difficult to extract him from being wrapped around a headknob, hugging said brown dragon and rubbing his own head all over it so adoringly.
[ √ ] By checking this box, I am saying that I have read the Rules and History, and will follow them.
Name: Tekivix (Teh-kih-viks)
Age: 21 Turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual; Possibly bisexual
Rank: Greenhandler
Physical Appearance:
One would have to be relatively delusional to describe Vix as “masculine”, but he’s not really “pretty” either – more of a mix of the two. The boy’s face is narrow, with a defined jaw sliding sharply down to a pointed chin. His lips are perhaps a tad too full, somber and soft pink, usually pulled into a half-hearted scowl and rarely relaxing. Vix’s eyes are wide, but not large, irises such a dark brown they could pass for black, framed by thick lashes. His nose is straight, narrow and long, and brushed with the light gold freckles, barely visible against the paleness of his skin.
Vix’s hair is dark brown, falling in bangs swept sideways across his forehead and grazing straight, dark eyebrows. It’s relatively long, coming to rest along the nape of his neck, and perhaps the best way to describe it is fluffy. And stubborn, if the two can somehow mesh; Vix can paw at it as much as he wants, but it remains in the same style, every day, and in the end, Vix never has the patience to fret with it for more than a few minutes. He keeps it, at least, short enough that it’s never in his way.
He doesn’t cut an intimidating figure. Vix isn’t tall, but neither is he short, standing at an unimpressive height of 5’8”. His shoulders aren’t as broad as they should be, sliding into a body best described as “athletic”: Not slender enough to be feminine, not muscular enough to be masculine. There’s the barest definition of muscling in his arms, legs, and abdomen, but most clothing very effectively hide all of it. His feet have the slightly overlarge appearance that comes from a growth spurt, but they’ve been that way awhile and Vix’s body has showed no sign of wanting to catch up in the near future – and Vix’s hands aren’t; they’re thin, with slender fingers, but not overly long.
Clothing-wise, Vix just doesn’t seem to care. His style is simple, bland, and generally unimpressive, tending towards loosely clinging, light neutrals and the occasional darker brown. Typically Vix rolls back his sleeves to keep them out of the way, applying a safety pin just so they don’t fall back over his hands (yes, his shirt sleeves are usually that long and that loose). Pants generally go ignored after they get put on, which means that they hang low and loose on his hips, and pool around his feet when he’s not moving.
Personality: Tekivix is not the type of person who absorbs compliments well. Perhaps this is the reason that, instead, several choice descriptions have been applied to him. Crazy. Weird. Mean. And, in all honesty, those do fit Vix quite well. The boy – for while his age may grant him the title of ‘adult’, still thinks of himself as a ‘boy’ – is, simply put, socially inept. It’s difficult to say whether this is because he really can’t relate to people, or because he just doesn’t care enough to try – or whether it’s just a mix of both, and then some. Whatever the reason, Vix rarely attempts to make friends, and expects other people to leave him alone, too.
He’s always been a loner, the odd one out, the last one picked for childhood games, the one that ate apart – and Vix likes it that way. He avoids large crowds as much as he can, preferring to isolate himself completely from the rest of the world, and if he manages to piss someone off because he skipped something important, well, that’s just too bad. Abrasive and impatient, Vix certainly isn’t prime company in any sense of the word. He tends to being deliberately cold and sarcastic to anyone who approaches him in an attempt to drive them away and get them to leave him alone. It’s difficult to draw anything other than a patronizing smile from Vix and nigh on impossible to actually make him laugh purely out of joy.
In situations where he actually needs to care, though, Vix can be useful – really. His mind is organized, careful, practical, and he’s definitely intelligent, and it’s rare that he allows fear to fog that up. However, his intelligence is more or less all he’s good for, because Vix can’t fight. He’s okay at basic self-defense (which means that, facing one person at or slightly above his own skill level, he can fend for himself, but only himself, and any more than that means only if luck favors him that particular day) but Vix isn’t a physically violent creature and never will be; he never bothered learning past what he thought was ‘necessary’.
When he’s by himself, Vix becomes…obsessive. He’s an inventor of the most juvenile kind, taking things apart to see how they work and putting them back together, losing himself in the mechanics of this-makes-this-happen and if-I-do-this-that-changes. Occasionally he’s actually made things of his own, little toys for the most part that operate on basic physics, which have been discarded almost instantly; Vix is definitely a perfectionist and even the littlest mistake from himself won’t be tolerated. Absolutely won’t be.
History: Vix was born the first day of a new Turn, the first child to be born in upper-class Igen Hold in 2996. It was nothing more than coincidence, but nonetheless, his mother, Tekiravi, considered it a sign of luck, and doted on him for it. And she could afford to dote, buy him the best of everything, because her husband, Viraxel, adored her and would allow her anything – at first. The couple was all but newly-wed, and the infatuation of first love had not yet worn away. Viraxel’s father, as it was, provided most of the money needed to support them, for it was through he that their rank within the Hold came from, and Viraxel had been spoiled as a child – he wanted nothing to do with work, only with leisure and his wife.
With money coming in from a steady source (Viraxel’s father showed no sign of ending his support of his eldest son) and nothing that demanded their attention other than Vix, both Tekiravi and Viraxel were always near their child and both of them were kind to him, patient, understanding, and completely inexperienced. Vix grew up spoiled. He was quick at learning new words, how to get his demands across, and that only made it worse; with each new word that left the baby’s mouth, Tekiravi in particular doted upon him even more.
It was just before Vix’s fifth birthday that Viraxel and his father had a falling-out. What it was about, Vix was far too young to comprehend – he didn’t even know, at the time, that it had happened. All the child knew was that the comforts he’d come to expect, the attention and the feeling of being the most important, being loved, being real to his parents, vanished. Indeed, even Viraxel’s affection towards his wife became muted, more distant, as he struggled to find a way to gain a steady foothold in the Hold’s functions, a way to earn a decent pay.
Unfortunately for Viraxel, Tekiravi was a needy creature, dependent on attention other than her child’s, and she found it in another man. Vix never learned of his identity; he knew only that it was the cause for his parents splitting up, his father taking him along and leaving his mother alone as a final spite. Vix never saw his mother again, and it was then that his father adopted the nickname Vix – the man didn’t want any memory of what had once been a happy marriage. Bad enough that Vix, growing rapidly, was showing signs of taking after his mother; the darkness of hair and paleness of skin, the same eyes.
In the end, though, Viraxel just didn’t care about Vix in the same way his ex-wife had. He indulged the boy, but for the most part, his attentions went to his new role as a Beastcrafter and Vix was left to amuse himself. His first amusements ended badly. He’d never really socialized before except in situations where his parents were watching, careful to make sure no harm would come his way, and his first interaction with children his age resulted in a bloody nose and a badly wounded ego.
And Vix didn’t try again. He’d wanted attention, but not this kind. He avoided the children, whose names he never discovered, even after Viraxel, exasperated and slightly annoyed, taught him self-defense; how to dodge, anticipate, block, disable. Vix was good, but he simply didn’t want to learn anything other than the basics, and after awhile, Viraxel stopped trying to get through to his son, irritated by his unresponsive coolness.
As Vix grew, he became more and more isolated, and often lingered indoors all day after he’d finished what little chores Viraxel decided were his responsibility, finding simple things in the room to take apart, picking with his nails at wooden bolts and screws, laying everything before him on the table, and fitting it back together again. His father never knew what amusement he derived from it; certainly Vix never smiled or laughed to himself while he puzzled over what lay before him. But it distracted him, and that was good enough for Viraxel.
He never told Vix about the war, about the Weyr. The only memories of ancient dragonlore that Vix held were from the time of his mother. For Vix, the world was as big or as small as he wanted it to be, and contained what he wanted it to. It was a satisfying way of life, but as Vix neared his twelfth Turn, Viraxel finally shoved him out into the world again, apprenticing him to a Master Beastcrafter at Igen who worked with runners. The man didn’t like children, and, he made it clear, he especially didn’t like Vix, who was clumsy, inept, even afraid of the runners.
The Master’s sharp cynical taunting as he instructed his apprentice might have been effective in encouraging other boys to work harder in an effort to please him, but Vix wasn’t one of them. Furious at being shoved out in the heat of Igen Hold, angry, hurt, confused, he rebelled, determined to be the worst apprentice, to make every step of the way as difficult for his Master as it was for him. The verbal lashings degenerated into physical striking very soon, and while Vix knew very well he couldn’t respond in kind, he could and did try to earn the man’s fury at every opportunity.
The other apprentices avoided him, and for his part, Vix detested them, for obeying so effortlessly everything the Master Beastcrafter asked of them, for earning his praise so easily. Despite his digging in his heels, though, Vix did learn – but he didn’t give anything to show for it. For all the Master knew, he was just as useless as a proper Crafter as he’d been when the apprenticeship began.
After three more apprentices came and passed Vix in terms of skill, the Master finally gave up. Viraxel received his son back – a cold, sarcastic, bitter caricature of the boy he’d sent away, a creature who wanted nothing more than to just be left alone. And Viraxel, despairing and with no idea how to handle Vix, then fourteen, just left him alone, as he wanted. Vix lapsed back into his old ways, staying indoors and away from human company, taking things apart, putting them back together, restlessly, but it had changed. He knew, then, of the war, the animosity between Weyrs.
And he didn’t care, and it bothered him. He felt like he should care, but he…couldn’t bring himself to. His father was the more imminent problem. The man was kind (to him, and Vix didn’t care about how he treated anyone else), but more or less utterly hopeless as a father, and their relationship was deteriorating rapidly. Vix’s only interest lay in what could be dismantled around the house, improved upon, what could be made, and the number was dropping with every passing day.
When his father died, Vix was nearing his eighteenth birthday. The girl who brought him the news, the local gossip, had probably been expecting some breakdown, hysteria, upset, emotion, as she described how Viraxel had angered two highly intoxicated men and they’d beaten him – to death. The response she received was a blank stare, one eyebrow curving, before Vix said, simply, “Okay.” Part of him, at the time, just didn’t believe her – but as time drew on and his father did not return, Vix still found that he wasn’t truly upset.
Mildly so, of course. Distressed that he was alone, would have to rely on himself for food, money, shelter, everything – but not personal grief at his loss.
For awhile, Vix managed to survive, but it wasn’t going to last and he wasn’t stupid enough to delude himself into thinking otherwise. Vix left Igen Hold with a trade caravan heading for Keroon. The Beastcraft Hall was located there, and Beastcraft – it wasn’t something he was fond of, but he knew some of it, and it seemed a…logical…place to go. The runners would be familiar, at least. But upon arrival, Vix couldn’t fit in. In hindsight, he also didn’t try very hard, but the people at Keroon Hold seemed to generally have a sense of urgency, of limited time, and growing up at Igen Hold, kept away from what passed as bustle there, had not prepared him at all.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise when Vix took the easy way out again. Perhaps the South would be better; it would be warmer, and warmth bred laziness, didn’t it? In any case, the South housed the dolphineers, and Vix didn’t think he minded that terribly. Hopefully they were cleverer than runners, in any case. A ship heading South gave passage to Southern, the nearest Hold, and Vix took it, intending to move directly from Southern to Blossom. Arriving directly in the middle of a Gather…had not been part of his plan.
He stayed away from the Gather for the most part, intent on taking apart a starscope he’d found left behind, but instead, he ran into a bluerider while he was trying to escape from a couple of young men he’d gotten into a spat with. Dragging the bluerider (later discovered to be T’ke of Garaeth) along, Vix unknowingly pulled him directly to the dragons – and, once he figured out that he was a Rider, wheedled a ride out of him – to Selenitas, where he could stick around as a Candidate before he left for Blossom.
It was just a few more weeks, months, maybe, in which he wouldn’t have to do anything…
The Weyr was stunning. As a Candidate, Vix had to do chores (which he adamantly avoided), attend lessons (not much better), and shared a room with other Candidates. And there were entirely too many flittery winged things around for his liking, really. Still, Vix kept mostly to himself. Oh, he had the occasional run-in with this-Candidate or that one or some random person, but he never tried to keep attachments or really become friends.
He was just going to leave, after all, and he didn’t want it to hurt when he did. However, the universe had other plans. Woken in the middle of the night, Vix didn’t really attend the wher Hatching so much as watch it from the doorway – he hadn’t recognized the call for what it was. He’d figured on just hanging around since he’d already gone all the way there, and then leaving. He hadn’t figured on a green (the first to Hatch, too) claiming him as her own.
Her name was Tekivisk, and she terrified him. She loved him and she wanted to stay with him forever and Vix didn’t know how to cope with that, didn’t know how to reciprocate appropriately, and her attachment to him, the intimacy the Bond guaranteed – all of it was alien and scared him to death.
Vix didn’t adjust. ‘Dysfunctional’ became the best way to describe his relationship with Tekivisk, the green always trying to press closer to him, be with him, be allowed to curl up next to him and nuzzle him and just love him and Vix pushing her away constantly. Things didn’t get easier when, eating in the Main Hall, his roommate’s gold Salamandyr’s clutch Hatched – and a little blue nuisance (again the first to Hatch) attached itself to him.
The Salamandyr remained unnamed for almost an entire sevenday. Vix hoped desperately that if he just ignored him, he’d go away – but no, the creature was as permanently Bonded as Tekivisk was, and he was finally named, grudgingly, Rook, after ‘Pawn’ was rejected by Tekivisk. Things still weren’t wonderful and brilliant and perfect, everything was just as skewed as ever…but they were slowly fixing themselves. That was, until Tekivisk's maiden run. In the end, the sweet green chose not one but two suitors for the evening; Konstask and Darmosk.
The Wasteland invasion wasn’t something that really affected Vix’s day to day life. For the most part, the wherhandlers were spared the worst of the dragonrider drama, and Vix's self-isolation seems to push him even further from the rider politics. This doesn't mean he's completely oblivious of it. One would have to live under a rock not to notice the change in regime. It irritated him to a certain extent. The awkward balance he had between himself, wher and salamandyr was tolerant at best, dysfunctional at worst, and anything that threatened to topple that balance was seen as a threat, and someting to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, the invasion didn't really reach to him, and he found himself more and more isolated as the wastelanders solidified themselves as a part of Selenitas in a desire not to come into contact with any of the wastelanders.
His life would be skewed even further when Tekivisk brought home a firelizard egg. She had actually wanted to save it, not thinking about what would happen if it hatched in her possession. Unfortunately for the green, that's exactly what happens...and all over Vix's pillow to boot. At first, the boy wasn't willing to accept the strange bronze firelizard who wanted to cuddle him straight from the egg. Whatever part of Vix's anatomy he could get a hold of he cuddled like none other. It's hard not to fall in love with something as inherently sweet and loving as this bronze, and reluctantly, Vix found himself being pulled to the firelizard's charms.
The Selenitas earthquake was met with quiet resistance on Vix's part, irritation and anger. He didn't want to be forced out of his isolated existence to help anyone. There's no way he could have not helped though, not with Ki whining at him, and that she would go save people with or without him but that she wished so very much that he would join her. Reluctantly, the green wher dragged him out of his apartment, and he joined the other handlers, albeit somewhat grudgingly, extracting people from the heavy stone and escorting injured people to the makeshift infirmary. Afterwards, it seemed he still wouldn't be left in peace when the remaining selenitans were moved to the exile weyr called Burimyu. Now Vix is left with trying to build up some semblance of the life that he knew in Selenitas in New Selenitas. Unfortunately, one of his closest friends, Ximera of blue Ximask died in the earthquake...and immediately thereafter, Kostya and Knostask disappeared as well. Privately devastated by the abrupt disappearances of two of the very few people he let into his life, Vix became even more determined to not let anyone into his life again.
3018 - Receives another blow when his remaining friend Darmori get's killed in a monster attack. Tekivix was the one to find him, and acts somewhat recklessly. They bring Darmori and Darmosks' bodies back to the weyr.
3019-3023 - Vix continues his solitary existence. If anything, he curls in on himself more, emphatically refusing to let no one near him for fear of losing them like he did every single one of his friends. Unfortunately, Ki has to run and around the end of the five year period, she gets caught by blue Posk. The blue's handler, Portia gets pregnant and Tekivix suddenly finds himself a father. Great.
At least he has someone to look forward to now.
Candidates Only
Name Contraction (Males Only):
Queen Only? (Females Only):
Desired Dragon Color:
Dragon, Wher, or both?:
Dragons/Whers/Fire Lizards/Salamandyrs:
Name- Tekivisk
Color- Green (#99DD11; #337700)
Physical Appearance- In build this wher is very near to the ideal. Just enough hints of femininity while not seeming delicate or weak. She is small in size over all but nothing is out of proportion. Perfect, unfortunately (or fortunately), does not quite apply though it is a near fit. Not at all hindering but certainly a bit out of place is the fork on her tail. Or rather, the lack thereof. At the very end of her tail is a small indentation but no actual fork. The way this wher moves fully expresses her emotions at the time. If sad, she will hang her head and shuffle along. If she's happy she'll be bounding effortlessly. She is more comfortable on the ground but when she does glide it is no problem for her at all.
Her colouration is what knocks her down from near perfect to simply normal. Truly, it is a rather ugly yellow-green. It is a good thing this green is not in the least bit vain or else she would be in trouble! She got truly unlucky with her colouring for it is a bright colour and stands out in the night. At her extremities the colour darkens to a slightly more pleasant green. Along her back is a broad stripe of the same darker green that is lightly spotted with the yellow-green. Her wings are a solid yellow-green in colour and not very translucent. Almost any other colour and she would have been a true beauty.
Personality- Easily her most definable trait is just how expressive this green is. Any emotion she has very nearly radiates from her, almost as if she has an aura. It is a lucky thing that this wher is often happy. She likes everyone at first glance and continues to like them unconditionally if they don't hurt her or Hers in any way. Her mission seems to be trying to befriend anyone she meets. She is even quicker to try and form bonds with blue and brown whers and can indeed be a little flirt on occasion. Bronzes she will avoid in a sign of respect to queens for this green seems to know her 'place' very well. Obedient to a fault, she is. If a queen or Hers says to do anything she will do it without hesitation. Bronzes also have some influence on her though she won't blindly follow them.
She is not meant for solitary life at all. She becomes highly agitated any time she is without some kind of company. Her happiness is also highly dependant on Hers being nearby. She can manage being apart from them for a short amount of time but prolonged separation will make her howl to the heavens until they are reunited. Beyond the couple of quirks she has, this green is relatively normal. She does not get jealous nor is she obsessive. Hers has little to fear of this wher causing much trouble at all unless Hers requests that she make trouble.
Name- Rook
Color- Blue (#330979)
Species- Salamandyr
Appearance- This blue can probably be best described as adorable. He has a chubby round body and every part of him seems to be just as soft , round, and huggable looking. You couldn’t quite call him fat but nor is he skinny. Big boned might be an accurate description for him. Or maybe tubby. His nose is slightly turned up at the end and he has wide innocent looking eyes. His belly seems to jiggle as he literally bounces around and he seems to have a permanent mandyr smile on his little face. The spines ringing his head are thick and somehow soft looking, certainly not dangerous in the least. He still has the same lack of frill his siblings all display. His feet however seem overly large and it is a wonder he doesn’t trip over them. In fact he is surprising light on his feet for being such a big guy. His wings sadly are far to small for his body. They are clearly more for show than actual flight. He will sadly be unable to either glide or fly but that seems to be perfectly okay with him.
The color of his hide is a rich purple blue. Similar to the color of a blueberry. It isn’t a particularly unattractive shade but nor is it really remarkable. His hide also seems to lack the typical sheen some mandyrs possess. But it isn’t exactly dull either. From the tip of his nose to the end of his tail his hide is marked with thin brindle stripping of a lovely maroon shade. His wing membranes sport the same lovely markings as the rest of the clutch his consisting of a bright purple iris surrounding a bright yellow pupil.
Personality- Can you say sweet? This little guy just oozes charm. He seems to have a permanent smile on his face and it seems as if he is never in a bad mood. To be honest the level of sweetness he exudes most of the time might make some people nauseous. Unbeknown to anyone but his bonded he does have a slightly evil side. You see this mandyr loves sweets. To the point of obsession in fact. Every heard the phrase like taking candy from a baby? Well this guy would be the one to do just that. His love for sweets cannot possibly be healthy but this is one thing his bonded may never be able to break him of. In fact if he is not provided with sweets on a regular basis he becomes very sullen and grumpy. But only to his. To everyone else he is just as kind and happy to their face as always, but less than kind when their back is turned. He will be a frequent visitor to the creche no doubt simply to look for his favorite treat. If he does happen to be provided with is favorite treat he will always over indulge. Fortunately for him these binges do not result in him getting sick. Instead they result in a mandyr that literally bounces off the walls. Speaks a mile a minute and is basically the equivalent of a cat on cat nip. Spastic. Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately these bouts of insanity always end in the mandyr passing out. Pretty much literally. Bouncing one minute and then just suddenly collapsing into sleep like a narcoleptic. His bonded will have to keep a sharp eye on him to make sure he doesn’t pass out somewhere very inconvenient.
As far as speech goes this little guy is fairly loud and fond of broadcasting. Sadly he doesn’t pronounce things the best most of the time but what he lacks in pronunciation he makes up for in enthusiasm. He is fond of chattering. Especially when he is in one of his sugar highs. Then he tends to string his words together in one impossible to understand sentence. As far as other draconics go he tends to love company whether it be mandyr or flit and seems to be immune to any insults or nasty comments thrown his way. He is rubber they are glue as far as he is concerned. In matters of love he is just as enthusiastic as any other male would be. Should he ever catch however don’t expect him to remain loyal to his woman. There is plenty of him to go around after all. All he wants is a little sugar.
Name- Pawn
Color- Bronze (#A5B535)
Species- Firelizard
Appearance- While technically this fellow is a Bronze flitter, you wouldn't hardly think it to look at his actual color. There are rich bronzes, and gold bronzes, and red bronzes, but he had to have drawn the most odded shade of bronze in that he is a green bronze. While he still retains that undeniable metallic sheen to his hide, his color is closer to a strange yellow-green of tarnished bronze statue work left out in the weather too long. When his wings are open and the membranes are stretched out tight in strong light, a slight color variance can be seen that is otherwise concealed. There are needle-thin tracery lines in the membranes, swirling here and there in a most lovely fashion of scrollwork. These lines have considerably less green in them, showing more of a true bronze color to them. In just the right light, they can light up and really become noticeable. It is possible the same needle thin scrollwork lines run all over his body, but given that only his wing membranes ever get light shining through them to show them off, there really is no telling.
He is a most handsome bronze in configuration. Extremely well put together, he could be the model of what a flitter is supposed to be. His head is very handsomely crafted with finely detailed eye ridges and a tapering snout adorned with matching nostrils – one of them is not slightly bigger than the other, as can be found in many creatures. His knobs match perfectly, and grow from his head in just the perfect angle. His head ties into his neck quite nicely and securely. His neck is neither too long, too short, too thick, or too thin. This same excellent conformation follows through right down to the matching talons on his feet and the twin forks of his tail. A streamlined and aerodynamic Bronze, he will have absolutely no problems in ruling the skies when he takes flight. Strength ties in gracefully with stamina in this oddly colored but well put together flitter.
Personality- He is sweet. Almost too sweet. Scarily so, at some times. Hatched straight from the egg, his favorite thing to do is cuddle. It doesn't really matter with what or who, either. He will snuggle a canine's snout just as fast as he will the fingers of his owner. His owner might want to keep a close eye on him lest he get himself eaten while trying to be loving and cuddly. Even if who he is cuddling with doesn't cuddle back, he will still love all over them and pet himself with them. He doesn't seem to understand that not everyone likes to be touched or just really isn't that into hugs. Of course, if he finds something that likes to cuddle in return, he will really be on cloud nine and it may take an act of starvation to make him quit. Every great now and again when he just can't find anyone warm to snuggle with, he might be found wrapped around a wooden statuette or something, hugging on that instead. Anything that looks like it should be alive and cuddly. So what if it's stiff and rigid? So are a lot of the living beings he inflicts himself upon. He apparently can't tell the difference.
He doesn't have a thing for his reflection like some Bronzes do, but he does like to strut when he's going somewhere. A jaunty step here, a casual flip while flying … he knows he's got it. Never mind if he is colored funny. He is a fairly intelligent fellow barring his strange quirks, and he will be very easy to train to do tasks from general commands to guarding or courier work. Sit, stay, go, the rest of it. He doesn't even need treats to get him to do it. Just a pat or a cuddle is all he needs!
There is one strange quirk that he's got that seems to terrify all of the brown critters in his vicinity. As soon as he spots a brown flitter or salamandyr, he will take off after it and chase it until there just is no run left in it. Unlike those who catch something and then have no idea what to do with it, he knows exactly what to do with the browns he catches. He twirls all about the bewildered creature and cuddles them of course. While the browns afflicted might have started out terrified because a big nasty bronze was chasing them, there eventually might be some speculation toward if this Bronze is confused about what exactly browns are. But that's the only color he does this with; only browns get chased to exhaustion and then hugged to death. Should he happen across a brown dragon (which is entirely likely), it will probably be most difficult to extract him from being wrapped around a headknob, hugging said brown dragon and rubbing his own head all over it so adoringly.
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