Post by Zeneka on Dec 20, 2011 1:58:05 GMT -5
Crafter Application
Name: Syrus (previously S’rus)
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Journeyman, ex-Rider
Location: South Run
Appearance:
Syrus is generally in a state of dishevelment. His hair is never combed and generally somewhat shaggy looking, often falling in his face. When he does work up the effort to shave he doesn’t bother spending too much time on it so he’s bound to have stubble on his face at all times, of varying length. Being of Ista stock, Syrus has typical dark brown hair and eyes of nearly the same shade. His skin is actually on the lighter side for an Istan, a dusky tan. Still, for one who spends most of his time inside, he has a rather dark complexion. He stands at even six feet tall and weighs about 169 pounds. He is more lanky than muscular, built more like a runner or a basketball player than a football player or a wrestler.
Obviously, Syrus doesn’t give a wit about his appearance. After awakening in the morning he throws on whatever clothing happens to be closest to him, not caring whether it goes together or even if it’s dirty of clean, though if he is planning on working he does at least make the effort to wear cleaner clothing. No matter what he’s wearing, or if he’s wearing anything at all, a pendant always hangs about his neck on a simple braided rope. The pendant is itself a small jagged shard from his dragon’s egg, a shard that had been stuck to his lifemate’s back after hatching that he hadn’t noticed until he was cleaning him off and feeding him for the first time.
Upon looking into Syrus’s eyes, even the nonsensitive Holdbred will notice something… off. His eyes never reflect any emotion or expression and seem to all, dull and rather… lifeless. He radiates an intense feeling of deepest loss that puts most people off nearly at once and many simply avoid him rather than be subjected to his depressing aura. Dragons and dragonriders, being more sensitive to such things, will feel it even more deeply than others.
Personality:
Syrus was once a rather happy, caring person who wanted nothing more than to help Pern any way he could. He went out of his way to help others and always did what he thought was right. He was highly naïve then, part of him actually being slightly selfish in that he really wanted to be seen as a hero on Pern, but he did truly enjoy helping others simply to help them. He thought as long as you were doing the right thing, nothing would go wrong. But sometimes what one person thinks is the right thing and what another thinks is the right thing are completely and utterly opposite and Syrus learned that the hard way.
He has always been an exceptionally curious person, someone who likes to know things, and when he doesn’t know something, does everything he can to find out about it. He absolutely can’t stand being confused, being left out of the loop, having things kept from him. This is one aspect of him that hasn’t changed, even with the loss of his lifemate. Indeed, it has become even more important to him now and his whole life revolves around answering one question, and then the next, and the next….
He is generally pretty good about hiding his relative insanity, especially if called upon to put his skills as a healer to work. When Syrus goes into ‘healer mode’ he almost seems normal again. Being a healer was and is something he takes very seriously, even if he no longer has the same desire to help people he once did. He can lapse into what seems like speaking in riddles at times when in reality he’s just rambling about his most recent ‘question’ that he is pursuing the answer to, but with a lot of effort on his part he keeps these lapses to a minimum. He doesn’t like for others to know how very broken he is and will become incredibly defensive if his sanity is called into question.
For the very simple reason that his dragon had a great fondness for sunbathing, he tends to avoid the sun if at all possible and has become rather nocturnal in order to better avoid it, as well as to avoid others so he can work on his experiments without being bothered or interrupted. Besides, not everything he does is seen as acceptable behavior by most Pernese and some experiments are likely to call his sanity into question if he were to be observed.
Perhaps because of their nocturnal nature as well, he has grown a sort of fondness for Whers, though a reluctant fondness. He tries very hard not to like them for he feels he is somehow betraying Rmalkth with the simple emotion. Other than whers and dragons, however, he pretty much can’t stand any other animal and avoids them if at all possible.
Syrus was once a rather flirtatious man, with both men and women, but since the loss of Rmalkth has become quite antisocial. He prefers to be alone more often than not, though does like his little brother’s company from time to time, and rarely ever begins any conversations with anyone other than himself, of which he is notorious for. Sitting alone in the dining hall he’ll often hold quiet conversations with himself about just about anything. On rare occasions he seems to be talking to his dragon.
If asked about his dragon, there are a variety of responses, verbal and emotional, the asker can expect. Sometimes it will be absentminded, matter of fact, with no emotion what so ever. Other times he will simply grow silent, brooding, and not answer at all. Sometimes he will happily tell you about how wonderful his dragon is… IS… as if he is still alive, and invite you meet him at a later point in time. Sometimes he will become furious and rant about the North should be consumed by Thread for taking his dragon from him. And other times he will break down, cry, and seem to relive the moment of his dragon’s death. It all depends on the say you ask him and what he happens to be doing at the time. Most will probably advise you not to ask him at all.
Family:
Synelle – Mother (Crèche worker, deceased)
Rusazen – Father (Journeyman Harper, deceased)
Zenel – Little Brother (Candidate)
Background:
Syrus was the firstborn of Synelle, a simple weyrbred crèche woman and daughter of two riders, and Rusazen, a harper who fell in love with her shortly after being assigned to Ista Weyr. The two were wed and soon Syrus was born. It was a difficult birth and the healers told the two they probably would not be able to have any more children. They therefore cherished Syrus all the more and spent as much time with him as they could as he grew up. Growing up in a Weyr, what child doesn’t dream of becoming a dragonrider? But his father thought it would be better if he took up a craft in case he was never Searched, or even if he was, in case a dragon never hatched for him, so he had something to fall back on other than the life of a simple drudge, which he knew was not a life well suited for his ever curious son.
With his curious nature his Rusazen at first thought his son might make a decent harper, but when he proved to have no real musical talent he began to think of other options. Synelle suggested he might make a good healer, for he was always helping the other children when they were sad or got hurt and he seemed to like helping out in the infirmary when he was allowed. After asking Syrus if he thought he would like to be a healer, his father decided it would be a good choice. Shortly after his thirteenth turn his father and mother enlisted the help of a dragonrider friend to see their son off to the Healer Hall.
He had been an apprentice healer for three turns when a visit back to his home Weyr had him Searched and standing to Impress. His father was worried that if he wasn’t chosen he would continue to stand until he was too old to really continue his craft and so to calm his father he promised that if he didn’t Impress at his first standing he would return to the Healer Hall. He didn’t think he could take the disappointment of not being chosen more than once anyway. Whether that hatching day was a blessing or a curse is hard to say. He Impressed to one of the last dragons to hatch, a rather runty Blue that promised to be a streak of sky blue lightning when he was old enough to fly. His name was Rmalkth and Syrus had never been happier than the moment he heard that little Blue’s voice begging him for food.
His Weyrlinghood was rather uneventful. He took an interest in dragonhealing though never really went beyond the basics. He saw how some riders were when their dragons were hurt and he wasn’t sure he could deal with that, knowing he’d probably be the same way if Rmalkth was ever hurt. During his Weyrlinghood his little brother was born, after his seventeenth turn. As his mother was getting older, his own birth had been very hard on her, and she wasn’t supposed to be able to have any more children, the effort of giving him birth left her in bad shape and she died only hours after Zenel was born. His father was never the same after she died and ended up drinking himself to death only the next turn.
With the absence and loss of both his mother and his father, Syrus became a bit more withdrawn and also focused even more of his attention on Rmalkth, and also on his little brother. He continued studying as a healer whenever he got the chance, feeling that if he’d just continued as an apprentice, maybe he could have done something for his mother. He began to grow mixed feelings toward his dragon, a more intense love now that he had lost both parents and had fewer things in his life to care about and that cared about him, and the beginnings of resentment for keeping him from becoming a more knowledgeable healer. He was so sure he could have done something to help her, to save her and in turn his father, if not for Rmalkth.
When other riders started studying the Red Star at the Star Stone, Syrus joined them at Rmalkth’s urging, intrigued and, he had to admit, a little excited at the thought of Thread returning. The dragon also seemed excited, he wanted to fight as well. Would they really get to actually fight the menace that dragonriders were made for instead of just the normal Interval tedium that had gone on for far too long? What would it be like? And why had it been so long since it last fell? The teaching songs said it came every 200 Turns. It was a wonderful distraction from his thoughts of remorse and resentment. Besides, if Thread was to return, he knew he really needed to let them go so he and Rmalkth wouldn’t be distracted during Threadfall. He studied with the others and came to the same conclusion, Thread would return in only a few short Turns.
He became frustrated when they announced their findings only to be laughed at by the majority of Pern. The Red Star was clearly not a myth, it could be seen shining in the sky every night, so why couldn’t Thread be real? He did his best to try and convince anyone he could, but most just laughed him off. When the coalition was formed he jumped on it right away. Whether the rest of Pern believed them or not, they were right, and he was going to be prepared when Thread returned. After Ista’s wings were forbidden from practicing more than the basic training maneuvers Syrus became even more frustrated. The Weyrs were going to be horribly unprepared for Thread because of the Weyrleaders’ refusal to believe what was right before their eyes. How many would die because of their ignorant decisions?
With more free time on his hands now that training was all but forbidden, Syrus spent as much of his time as he dared helping the coalition by any means possible and also continued studying as a healer to attain Journeyman rank. If the Weyrleaders were going to force everyone to be unprepared he was going to be ready to treat the injuries that could have been prevented. They had to succeed, for all of Pern, they had to be ready. He helped raid the firestone mines and shortly after the decision was made to settle the Western Archipelago, he put in a transfer request, using it as an excuse to leave Ista and headed to the Western Archipelago to join the other coalition riders, taking his little brother with him. He reluctantly opted out of helping to steal eggs from Ista and Telgar a few months later. As much as he wanted to help and to be part of the action, he just didn’t feel right about it. He wholeheartedly agreed that they needed eggs to grow their numbers, but he couldn’t bring himself to participate in stealing them.
After the success of stealing the eggs, he relaxed about it a little, and after they hatched he forgot why he had even been against it in the first place. These new dragons would help protect Pern from Thread and they needed all of them they could get! Besides, they were safer with the coalition, with Hidden Weyr, for they would be properly trained and when Thread fell they would be prepared to fight and less likely to be injured or worse, unlike the dragons of all the other Weyrs. They were doing the right thing, he knew they were, and if ever they were going to steal more eggs he made a promise to himself and Rmalkth that he would help next time. They weren’t stealing eggs; they were saving eggs, and saving Pern.
Only… the other Weyrs didn’t see it that way. Somehow they were found and when dragons and riders from the other Weyrs descended upon them in attack, his Rmalkth was killed defending him. As the Blue lay dying with the then S’rus clinging to his neck and begging him not to leave him, he begged his rider’s forgiveness, dug into his rider’s memories and gave him a picture of his mother. The resentment had never truly gone away, not until that moment, but it was already too late for the Blue was dead before ever hearing or knowing if his rider forgave him for being the reason his mother was dead. No matter how many times he screamed that he forgave him and that it wasn’t his fault, the dragon didn’t respond. Not until another coalition rider dragged him away to fly off on a dragon not his own did the realization that Rmalkth was gone really sink in.
Broken was what they called him after that. Broken… not whole. They kept expecting to find him dead, to find that he’d followed his lifemate, but he kept on living his half life. There were times when he’d hold his knife to his chest, the point pricking painfully, and just stare at it as a pinprick of blood appeared. Then he would start to shake and drop it, crawl into bed and cry out for his dragon, cry himself to sleep. His little brother would visit him sometimes and talk to him even if he didn’t talk back. He’d tell him Rmalkth would tease him for the sorry state he was in and ask him what on Pern he was doing wasting his life away. Finally his brother’s words started to sink in a little. He wanted to die, but he couldn’t… he wasn’t ready to die… he was afraid.
He tried to remember what was worth living for. His brother. His brother had no one. No one but sad, sorry him, but it was better than no one, or at least he thought so. Pern… the obligation he felt toward helping Pern was long gone. Pern could disappear between for all he cared. Between… what exactly was it anyway? Rmalkth…. Life was so fragile, even that of the most wondrous dragon could be snuffed out like a candle in no time at all…. What made something alive? So many questions… questions that needed answers, answers he wanted to find, needed to find. The need to find those answers became him driving force and his only reason for living. He went back to being a healer, sometimes, when it was needed, and experimenting at others. He had to find the answers, had to find them no matter what, no matter how… he needed them. And who knows, maybe finding his answers would get him killed one day and he could finally be with Rmalkth.
Crafthall: Healer
Pets
Name: Fetch
Species: Firelizard
Color: Brown
Age: 2 months
Appearance
Not delicate at all, this brown is something of a hulking brute. At first glance, many people will mistake him for a gold -- honey brown, and larger than many bronzes, this fire-lizard cuts a surprising figure in the skies. The only thing marking him as a brown, not a gold, is that he's not metallic in the least. Not only that, but he is surprisingly dense, given his ability to float through the air on his wide wings. He always seems to weigh more than he should when he lands, which he does with surprising grace, given his powerful musculature. He has very few markings, having a very plain hide, save for having a pale underbelly from his lower jaw to his tailtips. A few golden-brown speckles mark his wingsails, but nothing else.
Personality
Unlike many other creatures, this fire-lizard loves to please. He is almost dog-like in his affection, wriggling with glee when he is paid attention to and willing to do the most menial tasks to make others happy. He is an inveterate retriever, and loves playing fetch and bringing things back to his -- which makes him mostly a one-way messenger. Because of his build, he is capable of carrying larger things than most fire-lizards, and is quite apt at finding and bringing things to a person. This brown will be a life-long friend to anyone who gives him pets and treats, and is quite willing to hang out with people who aren't his -- though as soon as his master shows up or calls him, he will drop everything and go to them. Or rather, stop everything and bring it over!
Name: Seek
Species: Firelizard
Color: Blue
Age: 2 months
Appearance
Small, plump, and delicate, this blue is an adorable creature who will never outgrow his hatchling looks. In coloration, he is a deep periwinkle color, treading dangerously close to purple, with a silver-blue blaze and "socks" in the same color on his hind legs. For the most part, however, he is relatively unmarked, with his color getting faintly darker along his spine and towards his toes, nose, and tailtip, in slightly deeper "point" markings. All in all, this blue is quite pretty and almost feminine, with a youthful look about him that he will never lose.
Personality
Clever and cheerful, this fire-lizard is a happy personality to have around. He delights in figuring out how to do things, from opening jars to get at the tantalizing things within, to exploring the vast cave systems of the Weyr -- particularly into areas that are too small for human beings to get into. He'll often show up covered in dirt or muck, looking quite pleased with himself. This blue loves to collect little talismans of his journeys, so expect to be presented with a small (and dreadfully important, in his mind) gift every few days. He'll be quite crestfallen if not lauded for his find -- whether an interesting rock or mangled eyeless fish, or anything in-between! On rare occasions he'll show up with something a little more exciting: a gem, perhaps, or a tooth of some strange creature long-dead. You never can tell with this one!