Post by Kisha-Ra on Aug 2, 2010 16:00:04 GMT -5
Humans:
Name: Mo’rya
Age: 20 (born December 3003)
Gender: male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Rank: Bronzerider
Physical Appearance: Mo’rya is fairly tall, standing at just under 6’ but he manages to look much shorter unless he’s standing very close to someone or he chooses to stand tall. Most often Mo’rya walks around with his shoulders and head slightly down, mostly because things on the ground often catch his attention. Despite all the height he put on in his teenage years Mo’rya’s build is whipcord lean and years of running around after this or that have not allowed him to put on much weight.
Mo’rya was gifted with what can only be described as a pointed face, his chin, his cheekbones, and his eyes all seem to be more angular than they should. His eyes are the same clear pale blue as his Blossom born mothers, and quite often they seem to be focused on some inner world of his own.
The impression of vagueness that Mo’rya’s expressions tend to give him is reinforced by his sense of dress, his clothing tends to be well coordinated in colour, and often embellished by tasteful embroideries, which he adds himself. However when it comes to jewellery, and embellishments for his blonde hair, which he refuses to have cut short as a dragonrider should, Mo’rya shows all the taste and discrimination of a colourblind magpie. He’s the kind of person who thinks that twelve necklaces on one neck looks nice, and that five or six rings won’t affect his dexterity at all, and as for his hair, well, although he wears it in a functional braid for training and duties Mo’rya still loves to tie randomly selected items into his hair at other times so it’s not uncommon to see that pale blonde mass decorated with wildflowers, strings of beads, bright ribbons, feathers, and whatever else caught his eye.
Personality: Frankly the first impression that Mo’rya tends to make on people is that the light in his eyes is the sun streaming in through the hole in the back of his head, because surely he cannot have a brain. Mo’rya is forever lost in some daydream or another, and unfortunately for him he has never got the hang of not moving his lips during his imaginary conversations, which quite frequently turn into arguments with himself or with one of his mindmates.
Another facet of his apparent lack of anything resembling sense is his talkativeness; Mo’rya loves to talk, and he’s overwhelmingly enthusiastic about absolutely everything, but has a stark inability to focus on any one thing for long. Any conversation with Mo’rya is bound to be confusing as he skips around the subject, backtracks, gets sidetracked, and suddenly bombards his target with questions.
When he’s not talking, It’s because he’s busy applying thought to one of those many things that have briefly caught his attention, and his thoughts tend to occupy all of his attention when he’s in such a mood, making him incredibly clumsy about whatever he’s doing.
Though he often seems to have come through the trials of war as total innocent Mo’rya does have a suspicious side, one which constantly struggles to defeat and believe the best of all, though occasionally some nasty little barbed comment or bit of sarcasm (something he’s sure came from hanging around his aunt Darya) will escape him lips without being filtered though his better nature. Mo’rya can be a good, if slightly annoying, friend and he adores children, animals, and all species of dragonkin, in fact someones mindmates are usually the first thing to get him talking, and Epifayrmuth must put up with giving random weyrbrats pony rides.
History: Mortanyal was born to a smith who lived and worked in Lighttower Hold with his blossom born mate. Being the last child of six Mortanyal was often left to entertain himself, which was no real hardship for a boy with such a wild imagination. Although content to be left alone, Mort was also something of a plague on his siblings, from the moment he could walk he’d be trailing along after his older brothers, or being the butt of practical jokes, or thinking up new ways to get revenge for said practical jokes.
If anyone in the hold had ever bothered to ask Mort, as a young child, what he most wanted to be when he grew up they would have been either shocked or amused. Mortanyal was going to be a queenrider of course! Having grown up with a Weyrborn father Mort and his siblings had been raised on both harper’s tales and songs of dragons and smaller stories about the dragons his father had known as a child. Certainly those tales were enough to spark a longing and an intense curiosity in the boy that were most out of place in the sombre confines of Lighttower hold.
As he grew into his teens it became distressingly apparent to Foram that his youngest son had more than just kind thoughts about dragons to make him out of place among the youths of Lighttower. The boy had no idea what he wanted to do with himself, was constantly daydreaming and making up stories, and was generally about as much use in anything as a dead glow at the bottom of a cave at midnight. If the boy was so sharding obsessed with dragons he could go to the Weyr. That would certainly get him out of Foram’s hair. So Foram wrote a brief note to his dragonrider sister (exact wording: My youngest son wants to be a dragonrider and he’s good for nothing else. Come get him, only not at the hold. Foram.)
A few weeks after that, because Foram sent his letter by runner rather than firelizard, Mortanyal found himself being hustled down the coast, and shoved on the back of a dragon behind a woman who was supposedly his aunt. How exciting! Gold dragon, Mortanyal was on his way!
However it was just not to be. Gold Jingth’s clutch didn’t even contain a gold, which was just as well since the gold seemed favour girls for her hatchlings, how rude indeed. Mort would never let his gold do that, she was just going to have to let babies decide for themselves and deal with it.
The disappointments of Jingth’s hatching aside Mort continued in his cheerful existence, not discouraged in the least by failure, after all it was the simple lack of a gold hatchling that was the problem, as soon as one turned up everything would be sorted out. This opinion was only confirmed by a wild firelizard hatching shortly after the dragon hatching, naturally Mort had to go, annoyed someone into giving him a lift, and watched the events of the hatching with the bemusement of some not accustomed to the dramatics of pet hatchings at Selenitas. Clearly it was meant to be as the boy came home with a new pet, a sickly looking but beautiful little queen, who Mort chose to call Ghost. Not only was Ghost a perfect creature in her own right but she was also going to look just beautiful with his dragon as soon as he Impressed one.
However things took a definite turn for the worst as one morning the whole Weyr got a particularly rude awakening, from what little Mortanyal was able to gather while trapped in the candidate barracks it seemed traitors had infiltrated the Weyr at some point and had now called in their allies to take the place over. People were leaving via the tunnels in the canyon but Mort was unable to reach them as invaders had managed to cut off escape from the candidate barracks before more than a few could leave.
In a relatively short time, though to Mort it seemed to take forever, especially after the dragons started keening, Kaegan surrendered the Weyr to the wastelanders (as it later became apparent they called themselves) to save her own life, the life of her young son, and the lives of those southerners who remained. Soon enough the invaders began reorganising the Weyr to run their way.
One of the biggest changes for Mortanyal was the replacement of the distantly friendly dragonless Emoyan as the candidatemaster. Mort didn’t think much of Ka’aen and Rhiiseth, even if they did give ‘pony rides’. He wasn’t too thrilled with his new classmates from the north either but at least they made more sense than Rhiiseth, and didn’t refer to the class as prey animals.
Since most of the Selenitas bronzes were dead of fled it was pretty much a forgone conclusion that when Millieth eventually Rose it would be a wasteland bronze to catch her, and that dubious honour, as well as the official position of weyrleader, went to Demotaeth and his rider Ja’kin.
With the Rising of gold dragons comes eggs and hatchings, and Millieth was certainly no exception to that rule so a short while after the Flight that made Ja’kin weyrleader Millieth’s clutch of eleven hatched with southern and northern candidates alike standing. However the event was overshadowed, for Mort at least, by an almost tangible fearfulness as wasteland riders crowded around the sands from the outset. The air of nervousness only intensified when the first hatchling emerged wingless, and so it went on.
The wingless blue was soon joined by a second blue who lacked in wing membrane, a bronze no bigger than the blues, and even a pure white dragon. However before the gold (Mortanyal’s gold surely, well his gold dragon) could hatch from her shaking egg the small bronze approached Mort and flopped down across his feet. Mo'rya I am Epifayrmuth. I would ask you to feed me with haste, but the glorious one is about to hatch. We will wait till after she is free from her shell.
That abruptly Mo’rya’s world was turned on its head, all the time he’d been waiting for a queen and it turned out his dragon was bronze. The gold of the clutch chose Caden, who often seemed more male than female, causing Mo’rya to wonder in coming months whether Epifayrmuth and Nitrath had decided to swap riders just before they Impressed.
However Mo’rya’s world wasn’t done crashing down yet. After the hatching was done and the new weyrlings moved off to feed their dragons the lurking wastelanders sprang their trap, killing four of the mutated hatchlings, the two flightless blues, a green without a tail, and a second, blind, green in under a minute. Millieth eventually called off both the wasteland dragons and the outraged native dragons but the damage was done, the distrust rekindled. Mo’rya understood, in one bright moment, that the wastelanders had begun their downward spiral then, and he had gained his dragon, at the cost of some of his innocence. A small price to pay for his lifemate was it not?
To Mo’rya’s great disappointment weyrling lessons involved a great deal of combat training for the humans, something Mo’rya had always been useless at, his brothers had always teased him that he fought like a girl. Although he did eventually gain enough combat skills to keep himself from getting killed Mo’rya considered the only valuable things he gained from those early lessons to be the friendships he forged with the other weyrling riders, particularly Caden and Er’ani.
As if to fully occupy his wandering mind Mo’rya also managed to Impress another two pets in quick succession. First he attracted a sinister looking blue firelizard while attending a gather at Hyphen hold, the beast had a foul temper, which earned him the name Evil, and would only eat honey. Shortly after that (and mostly accidentally) Mo’rya found himself with a plump blue salamandyr as well as result of being in the main hall while a clutch was hatching. On the Weyr business front things were mostly normal, or what passed for it in occupied Selenitas, apart from the minor business of H’nes taking over as weyrleader.
The new year came in with Millieth Rising and being caught by Quarth, confirming H’nes in his position. Mo’rya was struck with very mixed feelings about all this, clearly it was bad that the wastelanders hadn’t been displaced, on the other hand new baby dragons would always be exciting, but on the other other hand (yes, three hands) he wasn’t looking forward to what the wastelanders might do to a whole new clutch of dragons, especially since he’d discovered that Millieth’s babies often carried mutations, though the last clutch had been the worst for some time.
Before Millieth’s eggs were even laid disaster stuck Selenitas, and this time it was a natural disaster rather than any attack as an earthquake roused the Weyr in the middle of the night. Though their weyr was badly damaged in the main quake Epifayrmuth was able to dig himself and Mo’rya out before aftershocks totally destroyed the place. They were among the lucky ones, escaping with only cuts and bruises while others broke bones and lost their lives to falling rubble and choking dust.
A few days after the earthquake while everyone was still trying to organise themselves riders who had escaped Selenitas more than a turn before returned to offer help, and even the comfort of the old Weyr they had moved into, to the survivors. Since most of the higher up wastelanders had died in the earthquake and those who were left could see Selenitas was too damaged, things were quickly arranged, and everyone was moved in time for Millieth’s clutching.
Mo’rya was happy to see the hatching go off without any real drama, especially not of the type that had marked the last hatching, but soon after became more concerned with other things as two of his firelizards, gold Ghost and green Gaia, caught a diease that was running through the Weyr’s pet populations like wildfire. Mo’rya was among those who allowed experimental treatments to be carried out on their pets, and both firelizards survived, though Gaia was now colourblind. For a while Ghost seemed unaffected by the disease but it later became apparent that she was now sterile and no matter how much she Rose not one egg was produced.
The year 3018 started with trouble as the wherhandlers were attacked by dangerous predators, killing two of the night watch. One of the creatures was brough back for investigation (safely dead) but it was of little interest to Mo’rya, all he wanted to know was how to avoid the beasts.
Epifayrmuth decide to make a late start in the chasing stakes by chasing his enormous golden sister Nitrath, needless to say he didn’t win such a high endurance Flight, but he was proud of Nitrath’s babies anyway, they weren’t quite as great as his would have been but they were still good.
The remainder of 3018 brought changes to the Weyr now called New Selenitas, as the council decided it couldn’t stay hidden forever and sent out two riers to reforge their old alliance with Benden Weyr, the lesser of two northern evils. Within the turn the Selenitans were adding themselves to skirmishes with Fort though they disgused themselves most simply by displaying Benden colours.
3019 brought what came to be called the great war, though it was more of a great battle as Benden and Selenitas joined forces to attack Fort Weyr together, drawing much attention and allowing a small team of riders to assassinate the Fort weyrleader. Mo’rya would have preferred not to be involved in the great battle or the skirmishes that followed when the allied riders hunted down former Fort renegades. Unfortunately for Mo’rya his dragon, dwarfed though he was, had proven himself a tactical genius in the 3018 skirmishes and the battle of 3019, so he got assigned to combat wings more often than not.
After almost a full year of combat the 3020 summit of practically everyone on Pern was called, and aggreements that no one was particularly happy with ensued. There was much grumbling on the part the dragonriders as what they saw as ancient rights were undermined. The biggest blow, in Mo’rya’s view, was the removal of crafters from candidacy, and the rider with craft training being reassigned to holds.
A new Weyr was to be built, and Fort and Benden abandoned. Mo’rya was one of those assigned to the central northern Weyr of Inverness, a change that he didn’t much mind, though once again there was much grumbling around him as once deadly enemies were forced to work side by side both in the north and south. Somehow, at the end of 3020, Epifayrmuth managed to catch Nitrath and become the proud sire of 20 new dragons, a situation that made both bronze and rider just about ready to explode with pride.
Over the next few years things settled down, with there being no war on, and therefore no new attacks on the weyrs, tensdions eventually shifted down as time, reputed to be the great healer, separated the dragonriders from past sins. The results of the Summit were still a cause for grumbling, but generally it was felt to be better than the wars.
Dragon[/u]
Name: Epifayrmuth (epi-fair-muth)
Age: 8 (hatched 3015)
Color: Bronze #AC7F24
Appearance: Epifayrmuth looks positively edible. Carmel dessert meet Bronze Dragon. A light orangey brown, this Male looks like he's been dunked into a vat of that sweet tasting goo. Epifayrmuth shimmers slightly when under direct sunlight, it has to be directly focused, otherwise the shimmer dulls down to just the metallic sheen all Bronzes have. Because his hide will shimmer at random times it gives off the illusion of liquid movement, much like the sparkle water gives off when viewed from certain perspectives. Dark brown lines crisscross over his nose and run up his head stopping just short of his head knobs, making it look like someone has accidentally drizzled chocolate on this lovely dessert dragon. While black claws draw the eye to the fact he's much more dangerous and less sweet than he appears to be.
The only problem is... well, Epifayrmuth is about 30 feet in length. He's the size of a small Brown or a large Blue... whichever comparison makes him feel better. Definitely the smallest Bronze on the Southern Continent, if not in the entirety of Pern, Epifayrmuth has a sort of Dragonic Dwarfism. In the simplest terms, he just didn't grow to the length he was born to, instead ceasing at a point common to his non-metallic brethren. His legs are slightly shorter than they should be which, in conjunction with his smaller body, make his head look a big large. Rest assured though that overall he does not look strange, just a little unique... yet charming in his own way. Broad wings and thickly packed muscle will allow him the endurance of a large Brown but in turn, cut into the speed he might have had given his smaller and sleeker size.
Personality: He is the yang to Mortanyal's ying. Epifayrmuth is completely grounded, always taking things as they are and not as he hopes they'll be. He doesn't actively search for that silver lining, nor does he go about brooding over the negative aspects, he is a realist in the most literal sense, and certainly, there are no sunbeams coming out of his eyes. Epifayrmuth works when he needs to and doesn't when he doesn't. He might be small, but he is still a Bronze and entitled to all that comes with being metallic. Though in truth, Epi doesn't subscribe to the typical arrogance that most of his color seem born with, he's too open minded for that. If he doesn't see a need, short of being ordered, he'll most likely not do it.
Not very talkative, he prefers to be the silent one of the group. Simply lazing in the sun on the outskirts and only speaking when he feels the want to. It’s not that he doesn't like other Dragons, he just believes they spend much too much time just chattering along. In short, he doesn't need other Dragons to be happy. Put him in the middle of the jungle with His and enough food and water to last him and Epifayrmuth would be living pleasantly among the silence. He wouldn't mind being alone, but he does find some pleasure in just laying or cuddling next to other Dragons.
But when it comes to getting Epifayrmuth mad? Well let’s say you just shouldn't. He is literally a genius when it comes to aerial battle, preferring one or two hit K'Os over drawing the battle out. This Bronze can visualize two to three steps in advance and plot out his plan of attack with in a span of a few moments. His fuse isn't long but it still has some length to it, giving people a fortunate reprieve. And, despite being so effective in battle, Epifayrmuth really doesn't have any ambition to lead a Wing. If he's put there, fine, but he's not going to actively work for the position.
Pets:[/u]
Name: Ghost
Species: Firelizard
Age: 8 (hatched 3015)
Color: Gold Base: #ffce14 Markings: #ddb73c #ffaa1f
Physical Appearance: This queen is certainly that – a queen, and her size emphasizes that clearly, for the firelizard is no small presence. Quite possibly the largest queen firelizard at Selenitas, she is, in length, nothing short of impressive. However, instead of being beautifully slender or frighteningly muscular, the gold is…positively emaciated. Skinny to the point of each rib being visible and, indeed, able to be felt, each one an individual bump beneath her hide, no amount of feeding will permanently help this gold gain weight. Oh, temporarily, yes – and indeed, stuffing as much food as is possible into her will result in a very swollen little queen – but never permanently. With huge wings that have a tendency to crumple up and fall all over the place and a slightly too large head, possibly the best way to describe the firelizard is – sickly. Large, but sickly.
In color, however, this queen is nothing short of vibrant. A bright, untarnished liquid gold cascades across her hide, shimmering sparkles dancing down her wings and the line of her spine. A darker bronze shade curls around her eyes like a mask, emphasizing their size and giving the appearance of bags beneath them constantly, before it arches up as if painted to coil around both head knobs. The same bronze touches on each of the ridges on her neck and tail, coloring the very tip with a smear of darkness. On all four paws and in inconspicuous freckles on her muzzle and neck is a bright shade of orange-gold – as if she has stepped in paint and splashed it across herself.
Personality: A very…strange creature is this gold. It’s rare she chooses to occupy the limelight, regardless of where she goes. Indeed, the only time that she will be happy at the center of attention is when she Rises. All other times, she prefers to lurk just out of sight. Rare is it that she will cling to her Bonded – chances are they will see her only for food and oiling, and sometimes not even that if the queen can find someone else to do it. Fiercely independent is the queen – but call for her and she will invariably come. Simply because she has a mile-wide independent streak by no means indicates that she is anything short of completely attuned to the needs of Hers.
Typically unerringly polite and quiet, the gold does have a temper. She hates those that mistreat their pets or talk badly of them, be they firelizard or even Salamandyr – for the queen actually doesn’t mind Salamandyrs at all and can even find them amusing – and she will scold very loudly at any who abuse (be it verbal, mental, or physical) their pets. Fussy and overprotective of her babies, the firelizard will have a definite emotional connection with all of her offspring; they will find themselves a mother that watches over them quietly and from a distance, and swoops in only when necessary. She recognizes that not all of them will stand for being coddled – she does. But they are her babies, and always will be.
Name: Evil
Species: Firelizard
Color: Blue base: #baefff Wings: #010521
Age: 7 (hatched 3016)
Physical Appearance: This little one is a very, very pale off-white blue. Think washed-out pastel. Its hinds are quite a bit stronger than its forelegs, such that scampering on all fours for this male will be awkward at best. As pale as the male’s body is, his wings are a dark black with just the faintest blue sheen in the light. They are long and wide, such that he often drapes them about his body in what vaguely resembles - yes - a vampire cloak. Even when he stands upright he always risks tripping over these overlarge wings and falling all over himself. They also make it just a bit difficult to control himself in flight.
Perhaps to balance out this incongruency, he also has a thick, long tail. It wouldn’t be unusual to see him dangling from something by it. In fact, he sleeps that way as often as not, upside-down by his tail. The tail can also be used to whack anything and anyone that displeases him. There is a curious marking around his left eye that looks vaguely like a ring of fresh blood trailing in rivulets down his neck. Otherwise, his small body (if you don’t count wings and tail, most greens will be larger than this boy) has no other markings.
Personality: He is very conscious of appearance. His will be required on pain of extensive tail-whipping to keep him oiled and perfectly groomed. This male will not suffer the indignities of shows of affection. No stroking. No caressing. No nuzzling. No cuddling. Don’t you dare call him anything cute or sweet. He will try to strangle a person with his tail if they even so much as mention the word ‘love’ - whether it’s applied to him or not. The blue is not interested in females and in fact goes out of his way to shun them. He’ll threaten to bite any that comes close enough to try to cuddle. (Of course, he’s far too proud to flee.)
This blue will never do more than threaten to bite overly friendly females. This is not due to chivalry, however. The male absolutely detests blood and ichor. The sight of it will send him Between in a heartbeat, and he’s unlikely to return for at least a candlemark afterwards. That of course means that he will not eat meat as a hatchling nor later as an adult. Insects are also inferior to his delicate palate. The boy must be fed honey. He demands it. And he prefers to eat it from an eyedropper in the hand of His. (Of course, if his hunger becomes too great and the usual threats of whipping and strangulation do no good, he will procure honey for himself.)
Name: Wit
Species: Salamandyr
Age: 7 (hatched 3016)
Color: Blue Base: #1B3F8B Markings: #9370DB
Physical Appearance: This male is on the larger size of the blue size spectrum. Not nearly as large as even a small brown but large enough to outsize most normal blues. Although in length he certainly isn’t impressive in girth he is. He’s downright tubby. In fact calling him fat wouldn’t be a gross overstatement at all. Every part of him is large and thick covered by a layer of fat. His bonded may want to try and get him to exercise a bit to lower his weight. He’ll never be what you would call skinny though. Nope in fact he’ll always be pleasantly plump. He sports overlarge wings that seem to hold no function other than to soak up sun when he’s lazing about. Oh they might work if he ever had to use them but why should he have to use them? Should he ever be tossed off a ledge or treetop however his can take comfort in the fact that the huge wings this blue inherited from his mother can, at the very least, be used as a parachute. Behind his head he sports the same thick spines his siblings do. However he seems to be given the gift of a membrane spanning the tines. However the membrane is only present to about halfway up each tine giving him a half frill.
His hide is a bright and shiny royal blue that darkens from his head to his rump where the color almost appears black. His frill and wing membranes are completely a soft lavender color and speckles of the same shade are dispersed in various clumps all over his body. His tail is rather short actually and thick bearing lavender rings from base to tip like the rest of his siblings. Overall if he isn’t exactly ideal in body tone at least his coloration is interesting?
Personality: This blue is extremely lazy. He doesn’t seem to want to move much at all. In fact he’d probably make a good paper weight. Wherever he is set he doesn’t move much more than a few feet in either direction. He has an obsession with being with his at almost all times though. Otherwise how is he supposed to get fed? Or oiled? Or loved adequately? For all his laziness though he is extremely intelligent. Capable of near full grammatically correct sentences and solving most simple puzzles. He’s actually quite good for conversation if you can keep him awake enough to converse. He’s adept at getting other creatures to do his bidding for him. Firelizards, other mandyrs, humans, even small children. All he will attempt to manipulate to get him this or that. He does however have an obsession with keeping things in even numbers. His food must have an even number of pieces. He must consume an even amount of whatever is provided. He must have an even number of slaves and talk to an even number of people throughout the day. If for whatever reason something ends up at an odd number he is prone to fits until it is fixed. His fits often include trying to bite whatever offender brought on the odd number and afterwards explaining exactly what they did wrong and how he wants it fixed. Let me tell you for a fat thing he can move pretty quick when he wants to!
This blue doesn’t much mind others. They are all possible slaves or opportunities. Whether they be human, flit, mandyr, dragon, or wher they all have their own possibilities. So who is he to judge? Let there be no mistake he isn’t immobile by any means. He just doesn’t see the point in putting in effort when someone else can do it for him. He’ll hitch rides as frequently as possible, often just hanging on his in some way shape or form. He will occasionally get the urge for company rather than sleep and then he is rather prone to choosing humans or dragons to converse with. Most other mandyrs simply do not match his intelligence level. In matters of mating he is solely uninterested. More because he is lazy than anything else. Females are just not worth the effort on his part. If they want to run to him fine. But don’t expect him to chase.
Name: Gaia
Species: firelizard
Age:
Color: Green Base: #0D3F0B Markings: #24F414
Appearance: The skin of this green is a soft, deep, dark crushed-velvet color, scrollworked over with thin ribbons of bright, spring green. The tonal variation is very distinct, the appearance resembling that of a normal green flitter having been gone over once by a twirling brush dipped in paint. The patterns near the shoulders and along the spine are symmetrical and curl forward, while the patterns down her sides, legs and wings curl backwards, and are more tightly wound. The lines over her arrow-shaped head quite resemble a tribal mask. She has long, graceful limbs with thin boning, but bears robust musculature across the front of her chest and under her wings, giving her a distinctly center-heavy appearance, with a long, serpentine neck in front and thin legs under a spear-head shaped body that ends in a tailfork so thin the two ends resemble brush bristles.
Personality: This delightful little green loves to garden; or a green's version of gardening, anyway. She is endlessly collecting seeds and sometimes small beads too if they resemble a seed in any way, and she will plant them carefully in a well-cultivated manner. It doesn't seem to matter what she plants them in however, as she will plant her seeds in shoes, blankets, discarded clothing, tousled hair, rumpled pillows, or anything else she can readily stir with her delicate fingers to cover over the seed needing planting. Some do end up in the dirt, though this is also subjective; floor sweepings, pathways, or cracks in the stone floors that have irretrievable dirt crammed down into them are also fair game.
She doesn't often realize the difference between cooked and prepared food and viable seeds either, and will also try to take beans, grain or nuts off of people's plates to plant those, too. Usually she will completely forget where she has planted something, and any frequented ideal gardening spots (like her bonded's laundry hamper) will accumulate copious quantities of "planted" seeds. Loving and nurturing in nature, this green will adore her bonded, but since he would undoubtedly be long since sprouted up, she'll keep him well-watered just to make sure he lives and grows! (meaning she likes to pour water on her bonded's shoes and feet)
Name: Mo’rya
Age: 20 (born December 3003)
Gender: male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Rank: Bronzerider
Physical Appearance: Mo’rya is fairly tall, standing at just under 6’ but he manages to look much shorter unless he’s standing very close to someone or he chooses to stand tall. Most often Mo’rya walks around with his shoulders and head slightly down, mostly because things on the ground often catch his attention. Despite all the height he put on in his teenage years Mo’rya’s build is whipcord lean and years of running around after this or that have not allowed him to put on much weight.
Mo’rya was gifted with what can only be described as a pointed face, his chin, his cheekbones, and his eyes all seem to be more angular than they should. His eyes are the same clear pale blue as his Blossom born mothers, and quite often they seem to be focused on some inner world of his own.
The impression of vagueness that Mo’rya’s expressions tend to give him is reinforced by his sense of dress, his clothing tends to be well coordinated in colour, and often embellished by tasteful embroideries, which he adds himself. However when it comes to jewellery, and embellishments for his blonde hair, which he refuses to have cut short as a dragonrider should, Mo’rya shows all the taste and discrimination of a colourblind magpie. He’s the kind of person who thinks that twelve necklaces on one neck looks nice, and that five or six rings won’t affect his dexterity at all, and as for his hair, well, although he wears it in a functional braid for training and duties Mo’rya still loves to tie randomly selected items into his hair at other times so it’s not uncommon to see that pale blonde mass decorated with wildflowers, strings of beads, bright ribbons, feathers, and whatever else caught his eye.
Personality: Frankly the first impression that Mo’rya tends to make on people is that the light in his eyes is the sun streaming in through the hole in the back of his head, because surely he cannot have a brain. Mo’rya is forever lost in some daydream or another, and unfortunately for him he has never got the hang of not moving his lips during his imaginary conversations, which quite frequently turn into arguments with himself or with one of his mindmates.
Another facet of his apparent lack of anything resembling sense is his talkativeness; Mo’rya loves to talk, and he’s overwhelmingly enthusiastic about absolutely everything, but has a stark inability to focus on any one thing for long. Any conversation with Mo’rya is bound to be confusing as he skips around the subject, backtracks, gets sidetracked, and suddenly bombards his target with questions.
When he’s not talking, It’s because he’s busy applying thought to one of those many things that have briefly caught his attention, and his thoughts tend to occupy all of his attention when he’s in such a mood, making him incredibly clumsy about whatever he’s doing.
Though he often seems to have come through the trials of war as total innocent Mo’rya does have a suspicious side, one which constantly struggles to defeat and believe the best of all, though occasionally some nasty little barbed comment or bit of sarcasm (something he’s sure came from hanging around his aunt Darya) will escape him lips without being filtered though his better nature. Mo’rya can be a good, if slightly annoying, friend and he adores children, animals, and all species of dragonkin, in fact someones mindmates are usually the first thing to get him talking, and Epifayrmuth must put up with giving random weyrbrats pony rides.
History: Mortanyal was born to a smith who lived and worked in Lighttower Hold with his blossom born mate. Being the last child of six Mortanyal was often left to entertain himself, which was no real hardship for a boy with such a wild imagination. Although content to be left alone, Mort was also something of a plague on his siblings, from the moment he could walk he’d be trailing along after his older brothers, or being the butt of practical jokes, or thinking up new ways to get revenge for said practical jokes.
If anyone in the hold had ever bothered to ask Mort, as a young child, what he most wanted to be when he grew up they would have been either shocked or amused. Mortanyal was going to be a queenrider of course! Having grown up with a Weyrborn father Mort and his siblings had been raised on both harper’s tales and songs of dragons and smaller stories about the dragons his father had known as a child. Certainly those tales were enough to spark a longing and an intense curiosity in the boy that were most out of place in the sombre confines of Lighttower hold.
As he grew into his teens it became distressingly apparent to Foram that his youngest son had more than just kind thoughts about dragons to make him out of place among the youths of Lighttower. The boy had no idea what he wanted to do with himself, was constantly daydreaming and making up stories, and was generally about as much use in anything as a dead glow at the bottom of a cave at midnight. If the boy was so sharding obsessed with dragons he could go to the Weyr. That would certainly get him out of Foram’s hair. So Foram wrote a brief note to his dragonrider sister (exact wording: My youngest son wants to be a dragonrider and he’s good for nothing else. Come get him, only not at the hold. Foram.)
A few weeks after that, because Foram sent his letter by runner rather than firelizard, Mortanyal found himself being hustled down the coast, and shoved on the back of a dragon behind a woman who was supposedly his aunt. How exciting! Gold dragon, Mortanyal was on his way!
However it was just not to be. Gold Jingth’s clutch didn’t even contain a gold, which was just as well since the gold seemed favour girls for her hatchlings, how rude indeed. Mort would never let his gold do that, she was just going to have to let babies decide for themselves and deal with it.
The disappointments of Jingth’s hatching aside Mort continued in his cheerful existence, not discouraged in the least by failure, after all it was the simple lack of a gold hatchling that was the problem, as soon as one turned up everything would be sorted out. This opinion was only confirmed by a wild firelizard hatching shortly after the dragon hatching, naturally Mort had to go, annoyed someone into giving him a lift, and watched the events of the hatching with the bemusement of some not accustomed to the dramatics of pet hatchings at Selenitas. Clearly it was meant to be as the boy came home with a new pet, a sickly looking but beautiful little queen, who Mort chose to call Ghost. Not only was Ghost a perfect creature in her own right but she was also going to look just beautiful with his dragon as soon as he Impressed one.
However things took a definite turn for the worst as one morning the whole Weyr got a particularly rude awakening, from what little Mortanyal was able to gather while trapped in the candidate barracks it seemed traitors had infiltrated the Weyr at some point and had now called in their allies to take the place over. People were leaving via the tunnels in the canyon but Mort was unable to reach them as invaders had managed to cut off escape from the candidate barracks before more than a few could leave.
In a relatively short time, though to Mort it seemed to take forever, especially after the dragons started keening, Kaegan surrendered the Weyr to the wastelanders (as it later became apparent they called themselves) to save her own life, the life of her young son, and the lives of those southerners who remained. Soon enough the invaders began reorganising the Weyr to run their way.
One of the biggest changes for Mortanyal was the replacement of the distantly friendly dragonless Emoyan as the candidatemaster. Mort didn’t think much of Ka’aen and Rhiiseth, even if they did give ‘pony rides’. He wasn’t too thrilled with his new classmates from the north either but at least they made more sense than Rhiiseth, and didn’t refer to the class as prey animals.
Since most of the Selenitas bronzes were dead of fled it was pretty much a forgone conclusion that when Millieth eventually Rose it would be a wasteland bronze to catch her, and that dubious honour, as well as the official position of weyrleader, went to Demotaeth and his rider Ja’kin.
With the Rising of gold dragons comes eggs and hatchings, and Millieth was certainly no exception to that rule so a short while after the Flight that made Ja’kin weyrleader Millieth’s clutch of eleven hatched with southern and northern candidates alike standing. However the event was overshadowed, for Mort at least, by an almost tangible fearfulness as wasteland riders crowded around the sands from the outset. The air of nervousness only intensified when the first hatchling emerged wingless, and so it went on.
The wingless blue was soon joined by a second blue who lacked in wing membrane, a bronze no bigger than the blues, and even a pure white dragon. However before the gold (Mortanyal’s gold surely, well his gold dragon) could hatch from her shaking egg the small bronze approached Mort and flopped down across his feet. Mo'rya I am Epifayrmuth. I would ask you to feed me with haste, but the glorious one is about to hatch. We will wait till after she is free from her shell.
That abruptly Mo’rya’s world was turned on its head, all the time he’d been waiting for a queen and it turned out his dragon was bronze. The gold of the clutch chose Caden, who often seemed more male than female, causing Mo’rya to wonder in coming months whether Epifayrmuth and Nitrath had decided to swap riders just before they Impressed.
However Mo’rya’s world wasn’t done crashing down yet. After the hatching was done and the new weyrlings moved off to feed their dragons the lurking wastelanders sprang their trap, killing four of the mutated hatchlings, the two flightless blues, a green without a tail, and a second, blind, green in under a minute. Millieth eventually called off both the wasteland dragons and the outraged native dragons but the damage was done, the distrust rekindled. Mo’rya understood, in one bright moment, that the wastelanders had begun their downward spiral then, and he had gained his dragon, at the cost of some of his innocence. A small price to pay for his lifemate was it not?
To Mo’rya’s great disappointment weyrling lessons involved a great deal of combat training for the humans, something Mo’rya had always been useless at, his brothers had always teased him that he fought like a girl. Although he did eventually gain enough combat skills to keep himself from getting killed Mo’rya considered the only valuable things he gained from those early lessons to be the friendships he forged with the other weyrling riders, particularly Caden and Er’ani.
As if to fully occupy his wandering mind Mo’rya also managed to Impress another two pets in quick succession. First he attracted a sinister looking blue firelizard while attending a gather at Hyphen hold, the beast had a foul temper, which earned him the name Evil, and would only eat honey. Shortly after that (and mostly accidentally) Mo’rya found himself with a plump blue salamandyr as well as result of being in the main hall while a clutch was hatching. On the Weyr business front things were mostly normal, or what passed for it in occupied Selenitas, apart from the minor business of H’nes taking over as weyrleader.
The new year came in with Millieth Rising and being caught by Quarth, confirming H’nes in his position. Mo’rya was struck with very mixed feelings about all this, clearly it was bad that the wastelanders hadn’t been displaced, on the other hand new baby dragons would always be exciting, but on the other other hand (yes, three hands) he wasn’t looking forward to what the wastelanders might do to a whole new clutch of dragons, especially since he’d discovered that Millieth’s babies often carried mutations, though the last clutch had been the worst for some time.
Before Millieth’s eggs were even laid disaster stuck Selenitas, and this time it was a natural disaster rather than any attack as an earthquake roused the Weyr in the middle of the night. Though their weyr was badly damaged in the main quake Epifayrmuth was able to dig himself and Mo’rya out before aftershocks totally destroyed the place. They were among the lucky ones, escaping with only cuts and bruises while others broke bones and lost their lives to falling rubble and choking dust.
A few days after the earthquake while everyone was still trying to organise themselves riders who had escaped Selenitas more than a turn before returned to offer help, and even the comfort of the old Weyr they had moved into, to the survivors. Since most of the higher up wastelanders had died in the earthquake and those who were left could see Selenitas was too damaged, things were quickly arranged, and everyone was moved in time for Millieth’s clutching.
Mo’rya was happy to see the hatching go off without any real drama, especially not of the type that had marked the last hatching, but soon after became more concerned with other things as two of his firelizards, gold Ghost and green Gaia, caught a diease that was running through the Weyr’s pet populations like wildfire. Mo’rya was among those who allowed experimental treatments to be carried out on their pets, and both firelizards survived, though Gaia was now colourblind. For a while Ghost seemed unaffected by the disease but it later became apparent that she was now sterile and no matter how much she Rose not one egg was produced.
The year 3018 started with trouble as the wherhandlers were attacked by dangerous predators, killing two of the night watch. One of the creatures was brough back for investigation (safely dead) but it was of little interest to Mo’rya, all he wanted to know was how to avoid the beasts.
Epifayrmuth decide to make a late start in the chasing stakes by chasing his enormous golden sister Nitrath, needless to say he didn’t win such a high endurance Flight, but he was proud of Nitrath’s babies anyway, they weren’t quite as great as his would have been but they were still good.
The remainder of 3018 brought changes to the Weyr now called New Selenitas, as the council decided it couldn’t stay hidden forever and sent out two riers to reforge their old alliance with Benden Weyr, the lesser of two northern evils. Within the turn the Selenitans were adding themselves to skirmishes with Fort though they disgused themselves most simply by displaying Benden colours.
3019 brought what came to be called the great war, though it was more of a great battle as Benden and Selenitas joined forces to attack Fort Weyr together, drawing much attention and allowing a small team of riders to assassinate the Fort weyrleader. Mo’rya would have preferred not to be involved in the great battle or the skirmishes that followed when the allied riders hunted down former Fort renegades. Unfortunately for Mo’rya his dragon, dwarfed though he was, had proven himself a tactical genius in the 3018 skirmishes and the battle of 3019, so he got assigned to combat wings more often than not.
After almost a full year of combat the 3020 summit of practically everyone on Pern was called, and aggreements that no one was particularly happy with ensued. There was much grumbling on the part the dragonriders as what they saw as ancient rights were undermined. The biggest blow, in Mo’rya’s view, was the removal of crafters from candidacy, and the rider with craft training being reassigned to holds.
A new Weyr was to be built, and Fort and Benden abandoned. Mo’rya was one of those assigned to the central northern Weyr of Inverness, a change that he didn’t much mind, though once again there was much grumbling around him as once deadly enemies were forced to work side by side both in the north and south. Somehow, at the end of 3020, Epifayrmuth managed to catch Nitrath and become the proud sire of 20 new dragons, a situation that made both bronze and rider just about ready to explode with pride.
Over the next few years things settled down, with there being no war on, and therefore no new attacks on the weyrs, tensdions eventually shifted down as time, reputed to be the great healer, separated the dragonriders from past sins. The results of the Summit were still a cause for grumbling, but generally it was felt to be better than the wars.
Dragon[/u]
Name: Epifayrmuth (epi-fair-muth)
Age: 8 (hatched 3015)
Color: Bronze #AC7F24
Appearance: Epifayrmuth looks positively edible. Carmel dessert meet Bronze Dragon. A light orangey brown, this Male looks like he's been dunked into a vat of that sweet tasting goo. Epifayrmuth shimmers slightly when under direct sunlight, it has to be directly focused, otherwise the shimmer dulls down to just the metallic sheen all Bronzes have. Because his hide will shimmer at random times it gives off the illusion of liquid movement, much like the sparkle water gives off when viewed from certain perspectives. Dark brown lines crisscross over his nose and run up his head stopping just short of his head knobs, making it look like someone has accidentally drizzled chocolate on this lovely dessert dragon. While black claws draw the eye to the fact he's much more dangerous and less sweet than he appears to be.
The only problem is... well, Epifayrmuth is about 30 feet in length. He's the size of a small Brown or a large Blue... whichever comparison makes him feel better. Definitely the smallest Bronze on the Southern Continent, if not in the entirety of Pern, Epifayrmuth has a sort of Dragonic Dwarfism. In the simplest terms, he just didn't grow to the length he was born to, instead ceasing at a point common to his non-metallic brethren. His legs are slightly shorter than they should be which, in conjunction with his smaller body, make his head look a big large. Rest assured though that overall he does not look strange, just a little unique... yet charming in his own way. Broad wings and thickly packed muscle will allow him the endurance of a large Brown but in turn, cut into the speed he might have had given his smaller and sleeker size.
Personality: He is the yang to Mortanyal's ying. Epifayrmuth is completely grounded, always taking things as they are and not as he hopes they'll be. He doesn't actively search for that silver lining, nor does he go about brooding over the negative aspects, he is a realist in the most literal sense, and certainly, there are no sunbeams coming out of his eyes. Epifayrmuth works when he needs to and doesn't when he doesn't. He might be small, but he is still a Bronze and entitled to all that comes with being metallic. Though in truth, Epi doesn't subscribe to the typical arrogance that most of his color seem born with, he's too open minded for that. If he doesn't see a need, short of being ordered, he'll most likely not do it.
Not very talkative, he prefers to be the silent one of the group. Simply lazing in the sun on the outskirts and only speaking when he feels the want to. It’s not that he doesn't like other Dragons, he just believes they spend much too much time just chattering along. In short, he doesn't need other Dragons to be happy. Put him in the middle of the jungle with His and enough food and water to last him and Epifayrmuth would be living pleasantly among the silence. He wouldn't mind being alone, but he does find some pleasure in just laying or cuddling next to other Dragons.
But when it comes to getting Epifayrmuth mad? Well let’s say you just shouldn't. He is literally a genius when it comes to aerial battle, preferring one or two hit K'Os over drawing the battle out. This Bronze can visualize two to three steps in advance and plot out his plan of attack with in a span of a few moments. His fuse isn't long but it still has some length to it, giving people a fortunate reprieve. And, despite being so effective in battle, Epifayrmuth really doesn't have any ambition to lead a Wing. If he's put there, fine, but he's not going to actively work for the position.
Pets:[/u]
Name: Ghost
Species: Firelizard
Age: 8 (hatched 3015)
Color: Gold Base: #ffce14 Markings: #ddb73c #ffaa1f
Physical Appearance: This queen is certainly that – a queen, and her size emphasizes that clearly, for the firelizard is no small presence. Quite possibly the largest queen firelizard at Selenitas, she is, in length, nothing short of impressive. However, instead of being beautifully slender or frighteningly muscular, the gold is…positively emaciated. Skinny to the point of each rib being visible and, indeed, able to be felt, each one an individual bump beneath her hide, no amount of feeding will permanently help this gold gain weight. Oh, temporarily, yes – and indeed, stuffing as much food as is possible into her will result in a very swollen little queen – but never permanently. With huge wings that have a tendency to crumple up and fall all over the place and a slightly too large head, possibly the best way to describe the firelizard is – sickly. Large, but sickly.
In color, however, this queen is nothing short of vibrant. A bright, untarnished liquid gold cascades across her hide, shimmering sparkles dancing down her wings and the line of her spine. A darker bronze shade curls around her eyes like a mask, emphasizing their size and giving the appearance of bags beneath them constantly, before it arches up as if painted to coil around both head knobs. The same bronze touches on each of the ridges on her neck and tail, coloring the very tip with a smear of darkness. On all four paws and in inconspicuous freckles on her muzzle and neck is a bright shade of orange-gold – as if she has stepped in paint and splashed it across herself.
Personality: A very…strange creature is this gold. It’s rare she chooses to occupy the limelight, regardless of where she goes. Indeed, the only time that she will be happy at the center of attention is when she Rises. All other times, she prefers to lurk just out of sight. Rare is it that she will cling to her Bonded – chances are they will see her only for food and oiling, and sometimes not even that if the queen can find someone else to do it. Fiercely independent is the queen – but call for her and she will invariably come. Simply because she has a mile-wide independent streak by no means indicates that she is anything short of completely attuned to the needs of Hers.
Typically unerringly polite and quiet, the gold does have a temper. She hates those that mistreat their pets or talk badly of them, be they firelizard or even Salamandyr – for the queen actually doesn’t mind Salamandyrs at all and can even find them amusing – and she will scold very loudly at any who abuse (be it verbal, mental, or physical) their pets. Fussy and overprotective of her babies, the firelizard will have a definite emotional connection with all of her offspring; they will find themselves a mother that watches over them quietly and from a distance, and swoops in only when necessary. She recognizes that not all of them will stand for being coddled – she does. But they are her babies, and always will be.
Name: Evil
Species: Firelizard
Color: Blue base: #baefff Wings: #010521
Age: 7 (hatched 3016)
Physical Appearance: This little one is a very, very pale off-white blue. Think washed-out pastel. Its hinds are quite a bit stronger than its forelegs, such that scampering on all fours for this male will be awkward at best. As pale as the male’s body is, his wings are a dark black with just the faintest blue sheen in the light. They are long and wide, such that he often drapes them about his body in what vaguely resembles - yes - a vampire cloak. Even when he stands upright he always risks tripping over these overlarge wings and falling all over himself. They also make it just a bit difficult to control himself in flight.
Perhaps to balance out this incongruency, he also has a thick, long tail. It wouldn’t be unusual to see him dangling from something by it. In fact, he sleeps that way as often as not, upside-down by his tail. The tail can also be used to whack anything and anyone that displeases him. There is a curious marking around his left eye that looks vaguely like a ring of fresh blood trailing in rivulets down his neck. Otherwise, his small body (if you don’t count wings and tail, most greens will be larger than this boy) has no other markings.
Personality: He is very conscious of appearance. His will be required on pain of extensive tail-whipping to keep him oiled and perfectly groomed. This male will not suffer the indignities of shows of affection. No stroking. No caressing. No nuzzling. No cuddling. Don’t you dare call him anything cute or sweet. He will try to strangle a person with his tail if they even so much as mention the word ‘love’ - whether it’s applied to him or not. The blue is not interested in females and in fact goes out of his way to shun them. He’ll threaten to bite any that comes close enough to try to cuddle. (Of course, he’s far too proud to flee.)
This blue will never do more than threaten to bite overly friendly females. This is not due to chivalry, however. The male absolutely detests blood and ichor. The sight of it will send him Between in a heartbeat, and he’s unlikely to return for at least a candlemark afterwards. That of course means that he will not eat meat as a hatchling nor later as an adult. Insects are also inferior to his delicate palate. The boy must be fed honey. He demands it. And he prefers to eat it from an eyedropper in the hand of His. (Of course, if his hunger becomes too great and the usual threats of whipping and strangulation do no good, he will procure honey for himself.)
Name: Wit
Species: Salamandyr
Age: 7 (hatched 3016)
Color: Blue Base: #1B3F8B Markings: #9370DB
Physical Appearance: This male is on the larger size of the blue size spectrum. Not nearly as large as even a small brown but large enough to outsize most normal blues. Although in length he certainly isn’t impressive in girth he is. He’s downright tubby. In fact calling him fat wouldn’t be a gross overstatement at all. Every part of him is large and thick covered by a layer of fat. His bonded may want to try and get him to exercise a bit to lower his weight. He’ll never be what you would call skinny though. Nope in fact he’ll always be pleasantly plump. He sports overlarge wings that seem to hold no function other than to soak up sun when he’s lazing about. Oh they might work if he ever had to use them but why should he have to use them? Should he ever be tossed off a ledge or treetop however his can take comfort in the fact that the huge wings this blue inherited from his mother can, at the very least, be used as a parachute. Behind his head he sports the same thick spines his siblings do. However he seems to be given the gift of a membrane spanning the tines. However the membrane is only present to about halfway up each tine giving him a half frill.
His hide is a bright and shiny royal blue that darkens from his head to his rump where the color almost appears black. His frill and wing membranes are completely a soft lavender color and speckles of the same shade are dispersed in various clumps all over his body. His tail is rather short actually and thick bearing lavender rings from base to tip like the rest of his siblings. Overall if he isn’t exactly ideal in body tone at least his coloration is interesting?
Personality: This blue is extremely lazy. He doesn’t seem to want to move much at all. In fact he’d probably make a good paper weight. Wherever he is set he doesn’t move much more than a few feet in either direction. He has an obsession with being with his at almost all times though. Otherwise how is he supposed to get fed? Or oiled? Or loved adequately? For all his laziness though he is extremely intelligent. Capable of near full grammatically correct sentences and solving most simple puzzles. He’s actually quite good for conversation if you can keep him awake enough to converse. He’s adept at getting other creatures to do his bidding for him. Firelizards, other mandyrs, humans, even small children. All he will attempt to manipulate to get him this or that. He does however have an obsession with keeping things in even numbers. His food must have an even number of pieces. He must consume an even amount of whatever is provided. He must have an even number of slaves and talk to an even number of people throughout the day. If for whatever reason something ends up at an odd number he is prone to fits until it is fixed. His fits often include trying to bite whatever offender brought on the odd number and afterwards explaining exactly what they did wrong and how he wants it fixed. Let me tell you for a fat thing he can move pretty quick when he wants to!
This blue doesn’t much mind others. They are all possible slaves or opportunities. Whether they be human, flit, mandyr, dragon, or wher they all have their own possibilities. So who is he to judge? Let there be no mistake he isn’t immobile by any means. He just doesn’t see the point in putting in effort when someone else can do it for him. He’ll hitch rides as frequently as possible, often just hanging on his in some way shape or form. He will occasionally get the urge for company rather than sleep and then he is rather prone to choosing humans or dragons to converse with. Most other mandyrs simply do not match his intelligence level. In matters of mating he is solely uninterested. More because he is lazy than anything else. Females are just not worth the effort on his part. If they want to run to him fine. But don’t expect him to chase.
Name: Gaia
Species: firelizard
Age:
Color: Green Base: #0D3F0B Markings: #24F414
Appearance: The skin of this green is a soft, deep, dark crushed-velvet color, scrollworked over with thin ribbons of bright, spring green. The tonal variation is very distinct, the appearance resembling that of a normal green flitter having been gone over once by a twirling brush dipped in paint. The patterns near the shoulders and along the spine are symmetrical and curl forward, while the patterns down her sides, legs and wings curl backwards, and are more tightly wound. The lines over her arrow-shaped head quite resemble a tribal mask. She has long, graceful limbs with thin boning, but bears robust musculature across the front of her chest and under her wings, giving her a distinctly center-heavy appearance, with a long, serpentine neck in front and thin legs under a spear-head shaped body that ends in a tailfork so thin the two ends resemble brush bristles.
Personality: This delightful little green loves to garden; or a green's version of gardening, anyway. She is endlessly collecting seeds and sometimes small beads too if they resemble a seed in any way, and she will plant them carefully in a well-cultivated manner. It doesn't seem to matter what she plants them in however, as she will plant her seeds in shoes, blankets, discarded clothing, tousled hair, rumpled pillows, or anything else she can readily stir with her delicate fingers to cover over the seed needing planting. Some do end up in the dirt, though this is also subjective; floor sweepings, pathways, or cracks in the stone floors that have irretrievable dirt crammed down into them are also fair game.
She doesn't often realize the difference between cooked and prepared food and viable seeds either, and will also try to take beans, grain or nuts off of people's plates to plant those, too. Usually she will completely forget where she has planted something, and any frequented ideal gardening spots (like her bonded's laundry hamper) will accumulate copious quantities of "planted" seeds. Loving and nurturing in nature, this green will adore her bonded, but since he would undoubtedly be long since sprouted up, she'll keep him well-watered just to make sure he lives and grows! (meaning she likes to pour water on her bonded's shoes and feet)
