Post by mangotango on Feb 6, 2008 20:23:54 GMT -5
DIED OF SOUTHERN FEVER EPIDEMIC
Name: Alviar
Age: 20 Turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Rank: Candidate
Physical Appearance: He is broad and muscular in an understated way. He’s not too bulky, too grotesquely buff to the point he can rip a shirt by flexing, but he shows the signs of living in the Mines. Alviar stands at an even 6’2’’ (which made him uncomfortable in there!), typically with his back very straight and his left hand holding his right forearm behind his back. It’s only one step down from actually standing at attention, and he falls into this stance whenever he has to remain still for any length of time. He prefers it over sitting.
Alviar’s hair is a somewhat lank brown, swept back from his temples and forehead and trimmed carefully around his ears but growing freely in the back to protect the back of his neck from the sun. It seems to clash slightly with the deep tan of his skin.
The way his plain brown eyes seem to tilt down slightly at the outside corners gives him a certain look of docility that doesn’t exactly fit with the ruggedness of the rest of his appearance, and are set close to his nose. This is a thin, straight thing which starts high on his forehead and ends directly above the knife-slash that serves for his mouth. Alviar is almost without lips, so thin are they. This makes his mouth look small most of the time, except for when he grins. When he does it’s almost like a donkey rolling back its lips to reveal more large teeth then should be able to fit. Fortunately, he has better dental hygiene than a donkey and people rarely gag when he does so.
Personality: Alviar likes being important on a personal basis. He likes to be the one who people tell secrets to, and he likes helping out however he can. Most of all, he just likes to make people like him. Every secret he keeps or chore he helps with is just another badge of honor in the trophy cabinet of his mind. He is very loyal, and, in fact, that loyalty is not very difficult to earn. Every person on Pern already has some, because Alviar truly believes that everyone is a good person if you just give them a chance. He even justifies, in an odd way, the outrageous behavior of Fort and Benden Weyr, saying that they were just doing what they thought was best. And, in his mind, their good intentions turned their evil into honest mistakes.
He’s very easily impressed (no pun intended). Any person who has a skill or a rank that he does not is generally regarded with awe and reverence, often disproportionally to the act or rank itself. Dragonriders are at the top of this heap, with the creatures themselves nearly gods. Even the lowest Greenrider is worth more in his eyes than a Lord Holder. The only failing in this is the fact that, since any dragon is the highest, his enthusiasm doesn’t increase as the beasts go up in rank. It can’t. It’s just not physiologically possible.
Alviar’s mind and body do not exactly fit together well. His mental image of himself is different than the actual article. If anyone were to try to fight him, he’d immediately forfeit. Or, if pressed, he’d fall to the ground and pretend to be hurt. Dignity’s got nothing to do with it- long ago he realized that it’s easier to get around with a bruised pride than a sprained ankle. He’ll beg, scream, even sob if that’s what it takes. What is really odd about that is, if he tried, he could probably put up a good fight. That idea has occurred to him before, but that would mean he’d be both inflicting pain on another person and running the gamble that they really were tougher than they looked. His way is easier, and he’s not interested in being the cause of strife.
There’s a stubborn streak in him as well. There’d have to be, to be able to reach his twentieth Turn with so many nativities still intact. He doesn’t just look at the world through rose-tinted spectacles, but he listens through rose-tinted ears and thinks about it through a rose-tinted brain. A good dose of denial never hurt anyone, right?
History: Alviar was the second born to Astraval and Kylissa, of Hyphon Hold. His elder brother, Valdinar, was nearly eight Turns his senior. Kylastra, his twin sister, was only ten minutes younger than he. She was nearly his opposite in most ways. She was shorter then he, with delicate features and a very nervous manner of movement. They were never very close. If they had both been boys or both girls, things would have been different. But, once they got out of toddler years they were rarely together.
Alviar joined the pack of children who roamed the Hold when free or else “helping” at the Mine. They carried messages back and forth, or brought lunch to the entrance of the mines, or stood look out. Nothing dangerous or strenuous, and more of a use to get them used to being obedient than to actually help. Kylastra stayed at home with Mommy, learning all the important skills that kept the Hold from collapsing from the inside.
Valdinar was well on his way to making a name for himself as a Miner when Alviar was first taken down to the actual Minesite. His father and brother helped him as much as they could, but it was still over a Turn before Alviar got used to the sootiness and the cold. It was rather dank down there too, and not a day went by where he wasn’t relieved to breathe fresh air again. He just wasn’t cut out to be a Miner, in his eyes. His father and brother took to it with an eagerness that made him uncomfortable with its intensity, so he kept quiet about his own misgivings for eight Turns. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, after all!
Then there was the matter of mining the Firestone. Alviar had had a knowledge of dragonriding in general, the same as anyone did. The make-believe world of the Holder boys would have been a drab place indeed without the great beasts and the mighty battles against Thread. He'd learned enough to get by. But Firestone... It was a rock. Not even a very interesting rock, to be brutally honest. The idea that a dragon could take a lump of rock and turn it into flame. More then that. A dragon could take a lump of rock and turn it into protection. Into safety. Into all the good things in life. It had shocked him in a very deep way. If his great imaginary battles had been held with the knowledge of what Firestone actually looked like when you broke it out of a wall and passed it up through many hands to a small sack there would have been a great deal less excitement and a great deal more fear in his dreams. Not everyone had approved of the dragonrider games anyway, given the current situation. But generally, it was tolerated because they were children. The wisdom ran that if they were still young enough to play make-believe games there was no need to spoil their fun. It was a phase they'd out-grow soon enough.
His first Fall came in the middle of the morning on a crisp day. The Miners were already at work, but when the Riders came to fly the Fall, everyone switched over to mining extra Firestone. He'd been promoted for the day- he'd been in the opal mine, and they were all huddled together at the entrance, staring out at the turbulent sky and the bright flames of dragons, hoping for some kind of a break in the Fall so they could cross to the entrance of the other mine. going out into the main Fall would be a death sentence. In the end those in the Opal Mine stayed there the entire Fall, only leaving late in the day when the ground-sweeps were going on. Alviar was tired, hungry, and stiff from huddling against the cold stone wall. But it didn't escape his notice that some dragonriders were staying behind with the ground crews.
But people adjust to incredible things, and Threadfall eventually went from being horrific to being uncomfortable. It was just another item that came with being a Miner. That didn't mean he liked it, and when he was Search Alviar had never been more relieved. Being Searched got him out of the mines, hopefully for good, and gave him a chance at the life he’d thought about but never actually thought could be his. There wasn’t a boy in the Hold who hadn’t made up grand adventures dragon-back to take their minds off whatever chores they’d been assigned. The idea of being out in the Threadfall was unnerving, but at least he'd have a chance to help instead of being proverbially stuck in the opal mine.
His father was against it at first, but changed his mind when he realized that Alviar might have a chance at a Wher there. Now THAT would be a useful creature! A good Wher could change them from a family of no consequence into people that mattered. Astraval sent his son off with the orders to try for any Wher clutches as well.
Candidates Only:
Name Contraction: A’viar
Desired Dragon Color: No preference- surprise me!
Dragon, Wher, or both? Both. Well, actually, either. Impressing both would be impossible.
Name: Alviar
Age: 20 Turns
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Rank: Candidate
Physical Appearance: He is broad and muscular in an understated way. He’s not too bulky, too grotesquely buff to the point he can rip a shirt by flexing, but he shows the signs of living in the Mines. Alviar stands at an even 6’2’’ (which made him uncomfortable in there!), typically with his back very straight and his left hand holding his right forearm behind his back. It’s only one step down from actually standing at attention, and he falls into this stance whenever he has to remain still for any length of time. He prefers it over sitting.
Alviar’s hair is a somewhat lank brown, swept back from his temples and forehead and trimmed carefully around his ears but growing freely in the back to protect the back of his neck from the sun. It seems to clash slightly with the deep tan of his skin.
The way his plain brown eyes seem to tilt down slightly at the outside corners gives him a certain look of docility that doesn’t exactly fit with the ruggedness of the rest of his appearance, and are set close to his nose. This is a thin, straight thing which starts high on his forehead and ends directly above the knife-slash that serves for his mouth. Alviar is almost without lips, so thin are they. This makes his mouth look small most of the time, except for when he grins. When he does it’s almost like a donkey rolling back its lips to reveal more large teeth then should be able to fit. Fortunately, he has better dental hygiene than a donkey and people rarely gag when he does so.
Personality: Alviar likes being important on a personal basis. He likes to be the one who people tell secrets to, and he likes helping out however he can. Most of all, he just likes to make people like him. Every secret he keeps or chore he helps with is just another badge of honor in the trophy cabinet of his mind. He is very loyal, and, in fact, that loyalty is not very difficult to earn. Every person on Pern already has some, because Alviar truly believes that everyone is a good person if you just give them a chance. He even justifies, in an odd way, the outrageous behavior of Fort and Benden Weyr, saying that they were just doing what they thought was best. And, in his mind, their good intentions turned their evil into honest mistakes.
He’s very easily impressed (no pun intended). Any person who has a skill or a rank that he does not is generally regarded with awe and reverence, often disproportionally to the act or rank itself. Dragonriders are at the top of this heap, with the creatures themselves nearly gods. Even the lowest Greenrider is worth more in his eyes than a Lord Holder. The only failing in this is the fact that, since any dragon is the highest, his enthusiasm doesn’t increase as the beasts go up in rank. It can’t. It’s just not physiologically possible.
Alviar’s mind and body do not exactly fit together well. His mental image of himself is different than the actual article. If anyone were to try to fight him, he’d immediately forfeit. Or, if pressed, he’d fall to the ground and pretend to be hurt. Dignity’s got nothing to do with it- long ago he realized that it’s easier to get around with a bruised pride than a sprained ankle. He’ll beg, scream, even sob if that’s what it takes. What is really odd about that is, if he tried, he could probably put up a good fight. That idea has occurred to him before, but that would mean he’d be both inflicting pain on another person and running the gamble that they really were tougher than they looked. His way is easier, and he’s not interested in being the cause of strife.
There’s a stubborn streak in him as well. There’d have to be, to be able to reach his twentieth Turn with so many nativities still intact. He doesn’t just look at the world through rose-tinted spectacles, but he listens through rose-tinted ears and thinks about it through a rose-tinted brain. A good dose of denial never hurt anyone, right?
History: Alviar was the second born to Astraval and Kylissa, of Hyphon Hold. His elder brother, Valdinar, was nearly eight Turns his senior. Kylastra, his twin sister, was only ten minutes younger than he. She was nearly his opposite in most ways. She was shorter then he, with delicate features and a very nervous manner of movement. They were never very close. If they had both been boys or both girls, things would have been different. But, once they got out of toddler years they were rarely together.
Alviar joined the pack of children who roamed the Hold when free or else “helping” at the Mine. They carried messages back and forth, or brought lunch to the entrance of the mines, or stood look out. Nothing dangerous or strenuous, and more of a use to get them used to being obedient than to actually help. Kylastra stayed at home with Mommy, learning all the important skills that kept the Hold from collapsing from the inside.
Valdinar was well on his way to making a name for himself as a Miner when Alviar was first taken down to the actual Minesite. His father and brother helped him as much as they could, but it was still over a Turn before Alviar got used to the sootiness and the cold. It was rather dank down there too, and not a day went by where he wasn’t relieved to breathe fresh air again. He just wasn’t cut out to be a Miner, in his eyes. His father and brother took to it with an eagerness that made him uncomfortable with its intensity, so he kept quiet about his own misgivings for eight Turns. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, after all!
Then there was the matter of mining the Firestone. Alviar had had a knowledge of dragonriding in general, the same as anyone did. The make-believe world of the Holder boys would have been a drab place indeed without the great beasts and the mighty battles against Thread. He'd learned enough to get by. But Firestone... It was a rock. Not even a very interesting rock, to be brutally honest. The idea that a dragon could take a lump of rock and turn it into flame. More then that. A dragon could take a lump of rock and turn it into protection. Into safety. Into all the good things in life. It had shocked him in a very deep way. If his great imaginary battles had been held with the knowledge of what Firestone actually looked like when you broke it out of a wall and passed it up through many hands to a small sack there would have been a great deal less excitement and a great deal more fear in his dreams. Not everyone had approved of the dragonrider games anyway, given the current situation. But generally, it was tolerated because they were children. The wisdom ran that if they were still young enough to play make-believe games there was no need to spoil their fun. It was a phase they'd out-grow soon enough.
His first Fall came in the middle of the morning on a crisp day. The Miners were already at work, but when the Riders came to fly the Fall, everyone switched over to mining extra Firestone. He'd been promoted for the day- he'd been in the opal mine, and they were all huddled together at the entrance, staring out at the turbulent sky and the bright flames of dragons, hoping for some kind of a break in the Fall so they could cross to the entrance of the other mine. going out into the main Fall would be a death sentence. In the end those in the Opal Mine stayed there the entire Fall, only leaving late in the day when the ground-sweeps were going on. Alviar was tired, hungry, and stiff from huddling against the cold stone wall. But it didn't escape his notice that some dragonriders were staying behind with the ground crews.
But people adjust to incredible things, and Threadfall eventually went from being horrific to being uncomfortable. It was just another item that came with being a Miner. That didn't mean he liked it, and when he was Search Alviar had never been more relieved. Being Searched got him out of the mines, hopefully for good, and gave him a chance at the life he’d thought about but never actually thought could be his. There wasn’t a boy in the Hold who hadn’t made up grand adventures dragon-back to take their minds off whatever chores they’d been assigned. The idea of being out in the Threadfall was unnerving, but at least he'd have a chance to help instead of being proverbially stuck in the opal mine.
His father was against it at first, but changed his mind when he realized that Alviar might have a chance at a Wher there. Now THAT would be a useful creature! A good Wher could change them from a family of no consequence into people that mattered. Astraval sent his son off with the orders to try for any Wher clutches as well.
Candidates Only:
Name Contraction: A’viar
Desired Dragon Color: No preference- surprise me!
Dragon, Wher, or both? Both. Well, actually, either. Impressing both would be impossible.
