Post by Rowana on Dec 11, 2010 12:31:01 GMT -5
Human:
Name: Porita
Age: 25 (Born February, 2997)
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Rank: Dragonless / Wherhandler
Image: Shirley Henderson
Physical Appearance: Porita is a rather plain girl. She will probably never be a beauty, but she is not bad to look at either. Her round face and full lips are framed by black locks, which she has recently cut short around her ears. Her small eyes are a sad, pale brown. Her skin is lightly tan, almost olive, having grown even dark from her turns spent in tropical climates.
Porita is of average in height, further adding to her ability to be lost in a crowd. Her fingers are slightly worn from her needlework, but she is not a physically strong girl. Despite the conditions she is used to, Porita does enjoy wearing and working with bright colors such as reds, oranges and yellows. Her clothes are always well made, as she makes them herself. She almost always wears some kind of scarf to hide a long, thin scar on her neck.
Personality: Porita is a shy, quiet young lady. She was raised to never expect kind words or treatment and is used to being ignored more often than not. She keeps most of her thoughts and feelings to herself for fear of reprisals. In particular, she expects all men to treat her as nothing more than an object and will generally avoid them if she can. To other women, she is a little more open though still reluctant to trust.
Porita is an excellent cook and seamstress. Sewing is, in fact, her favorite pastime. She finds the delicate task rewarding and soothing, particularly when she has had a bad day. She is actually quite clever and inventive with a needle, often thinking up new patterns or designs to cover up her repairs. Thinking isn't something she's been raised to be proud of, however, and she keeps most of her ideas to herself.
Recent events have made Porita even more closed off and unresponsive. She despairs of ever finding love or true friendship and is resigned to whatever sorrowful fate life has in store for her. Yet no matter how bad it gets, she has resolved never to cry again. Bonded with Posk is helping her become a bit stronger as well.
History: Porita was born the second daughter to a large family in Southern Boll Hold. Her father, Ritnus, was a bold, if not always successful traded who rarely paid his daughters any attention at all. This was to be excepted, of course, and Porita was raised by her mother, Poikalli, a stern taskmistress who impressed upon her daughters the importance of household skills to please their future husbands. For there was no doubt that they would all marry, whether they wanted to or not, once Ritnus found worthy business deals. Porita soon learned to accept this and to keep her complaints to herself as no one cared to hear them.
Politics and war held little interest for Porita, as they rarely effected her personally. Sometimes her father would rant about disruption in trade routes or other things that ruined his business deals. When she was thirteen, the Hold was full of news of the murder of Fort's leaders and worries that Benden might press the invasion. Yet Fort continued under a new Weyrwoman, and life went on as it had before. There was also talk of the Southern Weyr, Selenitas, and whether they would eventually join the war and possibly tip the balance of power. None of this really entered Porita's thoughts, however, being more worried about meeting her mother's expectations.
When she was sixteen turns, her father made a deal with an Istan merchant in an attempt to get a jump on a new market. Trading as far away as Ista was unusual, but Ritnus was sure it would bring him success. To show how much he wanted the venture to succeed, he offered the young merchant Porita in exchange. Though Porita had known this would come, she was nonetheless saddened to hear she would be forced so far from home so suddenly. Her goodbyes were short and curt, and she was quickly whisked off by her new husband, Wrolnoh.
Wrolnoh was only twenty turns himself and the third son of his family. Since it looked as though he would not inherit much after his brothers, he took up the risky business of trade with the main land as a way to find his fortunes. He had been delighted with the prospect of marriage with the young, unspoiled Porita, not because he liked her, but because he was not yet powerful enough to bid for a bride at Ista. Porita accepted the arrangement as she had been taught, but she did not enjoy it. Wrolnoh was often demanding and overly critical of her every fault. The only blessing was his frequent trips to the main land to manage his trade routes. During these times she could find some peace with her sewing and the few Istan women she talked with.
The trouble began when she was seventeen. Already a turn and a half into their marriage and Porita showed no signs of becoming pregnant. Wrolnoh began to spend more time at home. He took her to bed nearly every night, becoming forceful in his frustrations. Porita grew more fearful with each night. She had heard the other women talk and she knew what it meant if she was barren. Months passed and two turns into their marriage still no child.
Finally Wrolnoh lost his patience. One morning, on his return from a trip, he found Porita, now eighteen, in her room. Without a word, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her through the back halls of the Hold towards one of the exits. When Porita realized where they were going, she began to struggle, but Wrolnoh was a large, strong man and she couldn't break free. She wept and pleaded with him to give her more time, but he ignored her cries.
Outside, he pulled her to a small clearing the jungle. Porita's tearful eyes found his and saw no pity or remorse in his eyes. Yanking her close by her hair, he pulled out his knife. Porita's eyes went wide with terror as her husband explained coldly that he had no use for a woman who could not bear him an heir. The knife came up and began to draw across her neck.
Porita screamed and kicked back violently, scoring a lucky hit on Wrolnoh's groin. Pain and surprised made the man release her. Never had he expected such force from his shy, little wife. With an angry roar, he charge her, but at that moment a dragon landed in the clearly. She was a green, probably on her way to Ista on Search. The man on her back gave no name, but asked quite reasonably that if Wrolnoh didn't want Porita, he would take her off his hands. Wrolnoh spat, but he waved the rider to Porita dismissively, saying that he could kill the girl himself for all he cared.
Porita was so grateful to be alive that she collapsed into the arms of the rider, who put her on his dragon. Instead of going to Benden Weyr, however, Porita saw a canyon waterfall when she emerged and knew this could only be Selenitas. The rider explained that she would be a candidate now and Porita allowed herself a glimmer of hope. She expected this man had saved her more from his own need than hers. Yet, now that she was here, maybe she would be find a purpose better than what she had left behind.
After a visit to the infirmary, Porita spend the next few weeks with the other candidates. The wound on her neck, though not deep enough to be fatal, would leave her a scar the rest of her days. For the most part she kept to herself, sewing and listening to the others talk of dragons. They talked of the war as well, and of the current uneasy union of Wasteland and Selenitas, but it was dragons that held her interest best. She didn't think she herself was worthy of one of the proud beasts, but she was happy just to be alive and left alone.
The day of Millieth's hatching arrived and Porita found that the excitement of the others was infectious. If the rest of the dragons watch them on the sands were nervous, she didn't notice. The hatchlings were so beautiful, even if they were strange. She felt briefly sad for the one without wings, but that was soon overshadowed by the arrival of Jipth into her mind.
Impressing was like nothing she had ever felt before. All at once she felt loved and wanted, not for what she was, but for who she was. Never in her life had she been so happy and so sure of where she belonged. She didn't care if his wings were a little tattered, Jipth was perfect in her eyes.
Their happiness was tragically short lived. The moment that Hatching ended, the men came. Kerpth, the wingless one, was first and before Porita could even react to the horror they came for Jipth. One of the men ripped his knife through Jipth's throat before either of them could move. Porita shrieked as her heart broke and the blue's body crumpled to the sands. Tears poured from her eyes as she hugged him in her arms, heedless of the other deaths around her. Jipth's fearful eyes grew dim as his last seconds drained away with the ichor that spilled from his neck.
Porita...Mine. Jipth's voice was a whispery gasp, tinged with sorrow, pain, and acceptance. No...tears... Then he was gone. Porita wept until she felt she could cry no more.
In the weeks that followed, Porita was a broken young woman. She contemplated taken her own life on multiple occasions and spent some time in the infirmary to recover from the shock. Though the kindness of the Healers and other Candidates, especially Faolan and Hinsero, Porita did remain to Stand for further Hatchings.
Four months or so after loosing Jipth, Porita was convinced to attend Eikask's wher Hatching. There, to her surprise, she met the bouncy, blue Posk. So much like the would never have, Porita takes great comfort in Posk's company. His bright personality is slowly opening her heart to friendship and what it's like to truly live.
The earthquake offered Porita a rare opportunity to help the people who had done so much for her. She was distraught that so many had died, fiends and foes alike, but tried her best to free those she could from the rubble. She was glad tensions were over too, though meeting the people who had left before she had arrived made her nervous. So did the rumors that horrible creatures might live in the depths of her new home.
As time went on, Porita opened up more to the other wherhandlers and new wherlings. She also met M'gnum, a charming bronzerider who gave her more compliments and attention than most other men she'd ever met. She enjoyed spending time with him, even wondering on occasion if their relationship might become more one day.
The war and it's consequences changed that, however. No one expected her to fight, of course, though Posk was learning to keep watch for the deadly creatures in the jungle. Yet M'gnum was called often to travel North into the war. Porita worried for him greatly for him, but it was with relief that she learned that the war was over.
Her relaxation was short lived, as M'gnum and other riders were moved North by the summit meeting. He asked her to come with him, but her fears over being closer to her husband and family kept her where she was. Posk was happier with more whers around in any case. Time continued much as it always had after that, until Posk won Tekivisk Run in November of 3022. While Porita recovered from its results fairly quickly, the night has had lasting consequences as she would soon discover.
Dragon:
Pixel bases by LaughingDove; Pixel by Ruby
Name: Jipth (Deceased)
Color:Blue
Age:<1 turn (at death)
Physical Appearance: Jipth was a large hatchling with a vivid blue hide. Though normal in most respects, his wing sails were thin and the membranes only half connected to his bones. Flight would likely have been impossible for him.
Personality: For the brief minutes of his life, Jipth was a steadfast and sturdy blue. Determined and maybe a little bossy, he wished only to protect His from harm. His one regret was to have caused her more pain with his death.
Wher
Pixel bases by LaughingDove; Pixel by Ruby
Name: Posk
Color: Blue #0047AB #191970 #00FFFF
Based On: Passenger Pidgeon
Age: 6 turn
Physical Appearance: Green sized. Small green sized, at that. He's a terribly small blue and even a little perpetually under-nourished. Though not at a truly alarming level his ribs can be seen. He's slim and aerodynamic. Even his nose is thin and he has surpisingly small eyes. His tail breaks the thin and whippy theme a bit, being thicker than it ought to be though as long as expected. He sports a large, wide pair of wings. His legs are on the short side.
This blue is a pleasant cobalt blue for the majority of his hide. Along the bottom of his neck and belly, though, he's a pretty midnight blue. As the colour approaches the base of his tail it begins to blend back into the cobalt blue. A startlingly bright cyan runs along the bottom end of his wing sails and creates spots on his lower back and rump. Towards the end of his tail one can see the beginnings of a blend of cobalt and cyan though it's not all that noticeable under most lights (or lack thereof). The tip of his nose is also covered by this cyan.
This blue is a ball of moving energy. He's extremely quick despite his odd hopping gait. His wings often open and close for no apparent reason (he's good at accidentally knocking things over or hitting others when he snaps them open quickly). He has a habit of bobbing his head slightly as he walks. Fidgety fidgety. Something on him is always moving, sometimes even unconciously. In the air he's a marvel to watch although his landings will always leave much to be desired. The only way he knows how to land is to crash. He also crashes in energy after a while of being active.
Personality: Quirky blue is quirky. He adamantly believes in the paranormal and magical. In fact, even the telepathic communication draconids possess is viewed as a form of magic. It's not infrequent for him to lead His into the jungle in search of fairies or other such things. On top of that, he also believes in all supersitions. Black cats, spilled salt, broken mirrors, etc.. This tends to make him rather paranoid, always on the look out for them. He will also take the time to learn all of the remedies to these situations if there are any.
He also holds faith in a "higher being" that decides the course of one's life. No, he doesn't believe in Faranth, but he does believe in something. He'll snap at anyone who dares say otherwise, more for their own protection than because he's pissed that they don't agree. Don't they know It can hear them all the time? Saying such things will get them punished! One day in this blue's life a human or creature will come along and he'll believe that they are the Being in a physical body come to guide him. His had best try and make friends with whoever it is or risk their wher being influenced by a stranger.
This blue will be perpetually disturbed by the atmosphere in the wherhandlers' apartments. He is a pack beast, through and through. Packs are meant to stick together at all times but (at the time of writing this) his home is vastly different than he imagines. He'll always be trying to stick to another wher or two when they're around. It'll get to the point where if they want privacy they will have to find a way to drive this blue away temporarily. His annoyingness doesn't stop there. He's quite willing to blabber about things no one wants to hear to everyone nearby. Packs also share information, evidentally. All this doesn't necessarily mean he likes his pack mates.
Written by Ember
Fire Lizard:
Name: Neyki
Color:Green #9FBB6F #7D8373 #C0C89C
Appearance: There’s only one word to describe this green: fat. Not only that but she is also short, of leg and of body, making her appear to be almost spherical instead of merely plump. Her heaviness doesn’t seem to effect her movement at all though, at least on the ground, she can run almost as fast as a similar sized salamandyr, though all her extra flesh will jiggle comically as she does so. In the air she is not so swift as average sized wings will labour mightily to lift her weight, on the whole she’d rather be carried, or hitch a lift, or walk if she must. At least her face has a hint of the prettiness this green lacks in other aspects of her body, though her head is not quite proportionate. Slightly large eyes set into a sweet looking firelizard face would perhaps offset the rest of her form and make her look cute if not for the way her teeth jut up from her lower jaw. For some reason the fangs of her lower jaw are much more prominent than the upper ones, and always stick out of her mouth, adding a slightly sinister air to that sweet face.
In colouration this green has drawn another short straw, for although it is at least not ugly her hide is dull. A dull grey-green shade to be precise and while it is a restful shade it doesn’t make her particularly stand out. Nor do her markings make her any more remarkable, her back and wings are absolutely covered in broken ring markings in a darker grey shade and a lighter green one, but they, too, are dull. In fact no amount of oiling will ever brighten her hide, and even approaching Flight will only give her a slight sparkle.
Personality: This green is a thinker, an observer not a doer. If given a choice about anything she will always prefer to find an out of the way place where she can see what’s going on around her and observe it closely, passing on the most interesting moments to her bonded. Due to her colouring she’s often overlooked when she does this and it seems as if she likes it this way, going out of her way to find dusty corners and patches of wilting foliage to hide in.
It almost seems as if this green is irresistibly drawn to sorrow and woes, not only will most of her observations be on those subjects but the times when she chooses to intervene in a situation are always when she believes someone needs comfort. She’s quite prone to coming and perching next to anyone unhappy, no matter what their species, even a depressed canine would attract her, and singing sad songs to them. For some reason every sound this little green makes is muted and slightly sad, even when she’s at her happiest, but never more so than when she sings. Tears are something that she cannot stand at all, that’s where her patience runs out and she’ll decide very quickly that a bite or a clawing would give whoever is crying a good reason to do so.
Written by Kisha
[x] By checking this box, I am saying that I have read the Rules and History, and will follow them.
Name: Porita
Age: 25 (Born February, 2997)
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Rank: Dragonless / Wherhandler
Image: Shirley Henderson
Physical Appearance: Porita is a rather plain girl. She will probably never be a beauty, but she is not bad to look at either. Her round face and full lips are framed by black locks, which she has recently cut short around her ears. Her small eyes are a sad, pale brown. Her skin is lightly tan, almost olive, having grown even dark from her turns spent in tropical climates.
Porita is of average in height, further adding to her ability to be lost in a crowd. Her fingers are slightly worn from her needlework, but she is not a physically strong girl. Despite the conditions she is used to, Porita does enjoy wearing and working with bright colors such as reds, oranges and yellows. Her clothes are always well made, as she makes them herself. She almost always wears some kind of scarf to hide a long, thin scar on her neck.
Personality: Porita is a shy, quiet young lady. She was raised to never expect kind words or treatment and is used to being ignored more often than not. She keeps most of her thoughts and feelings to herself for fear of reprisals. In particular, she expects all men to treat her as nothing more than an object and will generally avoid them if she can. To other women, she is a little more open though still reluctant to trust.
Porita is an excellent cook and seamstress. Sewing is, in fact, her favorite pastime. She finds the delicate task rewarding and soothing, particularly when she has had a bad day. She is actually quite clever and inventive with a needle, often thinking up new patterns or designs to cover up her repairs. Thinking isn't something she's been raised to be proud of, however, and she keeps most of her ideas to herself.
Recent events have made Porita even more closed off and unresponsive. She despairs of ever finding love or true friendship and is resigned to whatever sorrowful fate life has in store for her. Yet no matter how bad it gets, she has resolved never to cry again. Bonded with Posk is helping her become a bit stronger as well.
History: Porita was born the second daughter to a large family in Southern Boll Hold. Her father, Ritnus, was a bold, if not always successful traded who rarely paid his daughters any attention at all. This was to be excepted, of course, and Porita was raised by her mother, Poikalli, a stern taskmistress who impressed upon her daughters the importance of household skills to please their future husbands. For there was no doubt that they would all marry, whether they wanted to or not, once Ritnus found worthy business deals. Porita soon learned to accept this and to keep her complaints to herself as no one cared to hear them.
Politics and war held little interest for Porita, as they rarely effected her personally. Sometimes her father would rant about disruption in trade routes or other things that ruined his business deals. When she was thirteen, the Hold was full of news of the murder of Fort's leaders and worries that Benden might press the invasion. Yet Fort continued under a new Weyrwoman, and life went on as it had before. There was also talk of the Southern Weyr, Selenitas, and whether they would eventually join the war and possibly tip the balance of power. None of this really entered Porita's thoughts, however, being more worried about meeting her mother's expectations.
When she was sixteen turns, her father made a deal with an Istan merchant in an attempt to get a jump on a new market. Trading as far away as Ista was unusual, but Ritnus was sure it would bring him success. To show how much he wanted the venture to succeed, he offered the young merchant Porita in exchange. Though Porita had known this would come, she was nonetheless saddened to hear she would be forced so far from home so suddenly. Her goodbyes were short and curt, and she was quickly whisked off by her new husband, Wrolnoh.
Wrolnoh was only twenty turns himself and the third son of his family. Since it looked as though he would not inherit much after his brothers, he took up the risky business of trade with the main land as a way to find his fortunes. He had been delighted with the prospect of marriage with the young, unspoiled Porita, not because he liked her, but because he was not yet powerful enough to bid for a bride at Ista. Porita accepted the arrangement as she had been taught, but she did not enjoy it. Wrolnoh was often demanding and overly critical of her every fault. The only blessing was his frequent trips to the main land to manage his trade routes. During these times she could find some peace with her sewing and the few Istan women she talked with.
The trouble began when she was seventeen. Already a turn and a half into their marriage and Porita showed no signs of becoming pregnant. Wrolnoh began to spend more time at home. He took her to bed nearly every night, becoming forceful in his frustrations. Porita grew more fearful with each night. She had heard the other women talk and she knew what it meant if she was barren. Months passed and two turns into their marriage still no child.
Finally Wrolnoh lost his patience. One morning, on his return from a trip, he found Porita, now eighteen, in her room. Without a word, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her through the back halls of the Hold towards one of the exits. When Porita realized where they were going, she began to struggle, but Wrolnoh was a large, strong man and she couldn't break free. She wept and pleaded with him to give her more time, but he ignored her cries.
Outside, he pulled her to a small clearing the jungle. Porita's tearful eyes found his and saw no pity or remorse in his eyes. Yanking her close by her hair, he pulled out his knife. Porita's eyes went wide with terror as her husband explained coldly that he had no use for a woman who could not bear him an heir. The knife came up and began to draw across her neck.
Porita screamed and kicked back violently, scoring a lucky hit on Wrolnoh's groin. Pain and surprised made the man release her. Never had he expected such force from his shy, little wife. With an angry roar, he charge her, but at that moment a dragon landed in the clearly. She was a green, probably on her way to Ista on Search. The man on her back gave no name, but asked quite reasonably that if Wrolnoh didn't want Porita, he would take her off his hands. Wrolnoh spat, but he waved the rider to Porita dismissively, saying that he could kill the girl himself for all he cared.
Porita was so grateful to be alive that she collapsed into the arms of the rider, who put her on his dragon. Instead of going to Benden Weyr, however, Porita saw a canyon waterfall when she emerged and knew this could only be Selenitas. The rider explained that she would be a candidate now and Porita allowed herself a glimmer of hope. She expected this man had saved her more from his own need than hers. Yet, now that she was here, maybe she would be find a purpose better than what she had left behind.
After a visit to the infirmary, Porita spend the next few weeks with the other candidates. The wound on her neck, though not deep enough to be fatal, would leave her a scar the rest of her days. For the most part she kept to herself, sewing and listening to the others talk of dragons. They talked of the war as well, and of the current uneasy union of Wasteland and Selenitas, but it was dragons that held her interest best. She didn't think she herself was worthy of one of the proud beasts, but she was happy just to be alive and left alone.
The day of Millieth's hatching arrived and Porita found that the excitement of the others was infectious. If the rest of the dragons watch them on the sands were nervous, she didn't notice. The hatchlings were so beautiful, even if they were strange. She felt briefly sad for the one without wings, but that was soon overshadowed by the arrival of Jipth into her mind.
Impressing was like nothing she had ever felt before. All at once she felt loved and wanted, not for what she was, but for who she was. Never in her life had she been so happy and so sure of where she belonged. She didn't care if his wings were a little tattered, Jipth was perfect in her eyes.
Their happiness was tragically short lived. The moment that Hatching ended, the men came. Kerpth, the wingless one, was first and before Porita could even react to the horror they came for Jipth. One of the men ripped his knife through Jipth's throat before either of them could move. Porita shrieked as her heart broke and the blue's body crumpled to the sands. Tears poured from her eyes as she hugged him in her arms, heedless of the other deaths around her. Jipth's fearful eyes grew dim as his last seconds drained away with the ichor that spilled from his neck.
Porita...Mine. Jipth's voice was a whispery gasp, tinged with sorrow, pain, and acceptance. No...tears... Then he was gone. Porita wept until she felt she could cry no more.
In the weeks that followed, Porita was a broken young woman. She contemplated taken her own life on multiple occasions and spent some time in the infirmary to recover from the shock. Though the kindness of the Healers and other Candidates, especially Faolan and Hinsero, Porita did remain to Stand for further Hatchings.
Four months or so after loosing Jipth, Porita was convinced to attend Eikask's wher Hatching. There, to her surprise, she met the bouncy, blue Posk. So much like the would never have, Porita takes great comfort in Posk's company. His bright personality is slowly opening her heart to friendship and what it's like to truly live.
The earthquake offered Porita a rare opportunity to help the people who had done so much for her. She was distraught that so many had died, fiends and foes alike, but tried her best to free those she could from the rubble. She was glad tensions were over too, though meeting the people who had left before she had arrived made her nervous. So did the rumors that horrible creatures might live in the depths of her new home.
As time went on, Porita opened up more to the other wherhandlers and new wherlings. She also met M'gnum, a charming bronzerider who gave her more compliments and attention than most other men she'd ever met. She enjoyed spending time with him, even wondering on occasion if their relationship might become more one day.
The war and it's consequences changed that, however. No one expected her to fight, of course, though Posk was learning to keep watch for the deadly creatures in the jungle. Yet M'gnum was called often to travel North into the war. Porita worried for him greatly for him, but it was with relief that she learned that the war was over.
Her relaxation was short lived, as M'gnum and other riders were moved North by the summit meeting. He asked her to come with him, but her fears over being closer to her husband and family kept her where she was. Posk was happier with more whers around in any case. Time continued much as it always had after that, until Posk won Tekivisk Run in November of 3022. While Porita recovered from its results fairly quickly, the night has had lasting consequences as she would soon discover.
Dragon:
Pixel bases by LaughingDove; Pixel by Ruby
Name: Jipth (Deceased)
Color:Blue
Age:<1 turn (at death)
Physical Appearance: Jipth was a large hatchling with a vivid blue hide. Though normal in most respects, his wing sails were thin and the membranes only half connected to his bones. Flight would likely have been impossible for him.
Personality: For the brief minutes of his life, Jipth was a steadfast and sturdy blue. Determined and maybe a little bossy, he wished only to protect His from harm. His one regret was to have caused her more pain with his death.
Wher
Pixel bases by LaughingDove; Pixel by Ruby
Name: Posk
Color: Blue #0047AB #191970 #00FFFF
Based On: Passenger Pidgeon
Age: 6 turn
Physical Appearance: Green sized. Small green sized, at that. He's a terribly small blue and even a little perpetually under-nourished. Though not at a truly alarming level his ribs can be seen. He's slim and aerodynamic. Even his nose is thin and he has surpisingly small eyes. His tail breaks the thin and whippy theme a bit, being thicker than it ought to be though as long as expected. He sports a large, wide pair of wings. His legs are on the short side.
This blue is a pleasant cobalt blue for the majority of his hide. Along the bottom of his neck and belly, though, he's a pretty midnight blue. As the colour approaches the base of his tail it begins to blend back into the cobalt blue. A startlingly bright cyan runs along the bottom end of his wing sails and creates spots on his lower back and rump. Towards the end of his tail one can see the beginnings of a blend of cobalt and cyan though it's not all that noticeable under most lights (or lack thereof). The tip of his nose is also covered by this cyan.
This blue is a ball of moving energy. He's extremely quick despite his odd hopping gait. His wings often open and close for no apparent reason (he's good at accidentally knocking things over or hitting others when he snaps them open quickly). He has a habit of bobbing his head slightly as he walks. Fidgety fidgety. Something on him is always moving, sometimes even unconciously. In the air he's a marvel to watch although his landings will always leave much to be desired. The only way he knows how to land is to crash. He also crashes in energy after a while of being active.
Personality: Quirky blue is quirky. He adamantly believes in the paranormal and magical. In fact, even the telepathic communication draconids possess is viewed as a form of magic. It's not infrequent for him to lead His into the jungle in search of fairies or other such things. On top of that, he also believes in all supersitions. Black cats, spilled salt, broken mirrors, etc.. This tends to make him rather paranoid, always on the look out for them. He will also take the time to learn all of the remedies to these situations if there are any.
He also holds faith in a "higher being" that decides the course of one's life. No, he doesn't believe in Faranth, but he does believe in something. He'll snap at anyone who dares say otherwise, more for their own protection than because he's pissed that they don't agree. Don't they know It can hear them all the time? Saying such things will get them punished! One day in this blue's life a human or creature will come along and he'll believe that they are the Being in a physical body come to guide him. His had best try and make friends with whoever it is or risk their wher being influenced by a stranger.
This blue will be perpetually disturbed by the atmosphere in the wherhandlers' apartments. He is a pack beast, through and through. Packs are meant to stick together at all times but (at the time of writing this) his home is vastly different than he imagines. He'll always be trying to stick to another wher or two when they're around. It'll get to the point where if they want privacy they will have to find a way to drive this blue away temporarily. His annoyingness doesn't stop there. He's quite willing to blabber about things no one wants to hear to everyone nearby. Packs also share information, evidentally. All this doesn't necessarily mean he likes his pack mates.
Written by Ember
Fire Lizard:
Name: Neyki
Color:Green #9FBB6F #7D8373 #C0C89C
Appearance: There’s only one word to describe this green: fat. Not only that but she is also short, of leg and of body, making her appear to be almost spherical instead of merely plump. Her heaviness doesn’t seem to effect her movement at all though, at least on the ground, she can run almost as fast as a similar sized salamandyr, though all her extra flesh will jiggle comically as she does so. In the air she is not so swift as average sized wings will labour mightily to lift her weight, on the whole she’d rather be carried, or hitch a lift, or walk if she must. At least her face has a hint of the prettiness this green lacks in other aspects of her body, though her head is not quite proportionate. Slightly large eyes set into a sweet looking firelizard face would perhaps offset the rest of her form and make her look cute if not for the way her teeth jut up from her lower jaw. For some reason the fangs of her lower jaw are much more prominent than the upper ones, and always stick out of her mouth, adding a slightly sinister air to that sweet face.
In colouration this green has drawn another short straw, for although it is at least not ugly her hide is dull. A dull grey-green shade to be precise and while it is a restful shade it doesn’t make her particularly stand out. Nor do her markings make her any more remarkable, her back and wings are absolutely covered in broken ring markings in a darker grey shade and a lighter green one, but they, too, are dull. In fact no amount of oiling will ever brighten her hide, and even approaching Flight will only give her a slight sparkle.
Personality: This green is a thinker, an observer not a doer. If given a choice about anything she will always prefer to find an out of the way place where she can see what’s going on around her and observe it closely, passing on the most interesting moments to her bonded. Due to her colouring she’s often overlooked when she does this and it seems as if she likes it this way, going out of her way to find dusty corners and patches of wilting foliage to hide in.
It almost seems as if this green is irresistibly drawn to sorrow and woes, not only will most of her observations be on those subjects but the times when she chooses to intervene in a situation are always when she believes someone needs comfort. She’s quite prone to coming and perching next to anyone unhappy, no matter what their species, even a depressed canine would attract her, and singing sad songs to them. For some reason every sound this little green makes is muted and slightly sad, even when she’s at her happiest, but never more so than when she sings. Tears are something that she cannot stand at all, that’s where her patience runs out and she’ll decide very quickly that a bite or a clawing would give whoever is crying a good reason to do so.
Written by Kisha
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