Post by Micarst on Mar 25, 2011 1:01:16 GMT -5
Smuggler Application
((OOC: I wanted to know, can I list Jayce as a smuggler, but have the potential *later* for him to end up a candidate?))
Name: Jayce (rhymes with 'case')
Age: 21 (born Dec 4, 1235)
Gender: Male posing as female
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Trader / smuggler / former drudge
Appearance: The femininity one sees when looking at Jayce is in fact carefully cultivated. Discreet use of colored powders and creams enhance the natural contours of generous lips and high cheekbones. Eyes, with a pale blue ring surrounded by one considerably darker, peer out with implied vulnerability and mingled challenge from the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of the lids. Dark, nearly straight eyebrows contrast to the near-white hair kept carelessly short. A small nose and rather pointy chin complete the face.
Swan-necked, with barely a hint of a visible 'adam's apple,' Jayce has a cleanly built body like that of a dancer. Neither especially strong or especially quick afoot (or even tall at 5'9"), he instead has an excellent grasp of his own physical capabilities. He is a bit of an acrobat, almost sinfully flexible. So slight of build is he, that his 175 lbs seem to be a humorous lie. He has long, dexterous hands, and narrow birdlike feet.
His youthful body lacks the curves of a well-endowed female, or the manly bulk so many women find attractive, so Jayce selects clothing cut in a flattering feminine style, emphasizing his wide hips and small waist; color doesn't matter as much as the comfort. No jewelry adorns this man, but scarification on the backs of his hands look like mirror images of a stylized flame. Time spent in the sun somewhat darkened Jayce's naturally-pasty skin to a more healthy color- but it is still more pink than tan. His voice has a wide tenor range, but he usually speaks in its higher registers to enhance the feminine illusion.
Personality: Jayce is a complicated individual, with many facets of his personality not fitting well together- a direct result of his upbringing, and the fact that his new lifestyle leaves him with little time for introspection. He drives himself hard, but enjoys the fact that he chooses to do it- it's a matter of self discipline, not of being ordered. In point of fact he doesn't take well to being low of rank, which is part of why he self-emancipated (read: ran away). It rubs him the wrong way when people disregard him, even if his life sometimes depends on it.
He's just a small-time smuggler, and life at Hidden Weyr would go on much as before if he were to be caught. But there's something vastly rewarding to Jayce about acting (under the noses of everyone who belittled him) for the betterment of Pern. He believes without a shadow of a doubt that Thread will return, and absolutely detests the Weyrs that refuse to give credence to the signs, or even make 'just in case' preparations.
Though he is a bit reserved expressing himself, once he starts talking he has a lot to say about the state of the world, mostly opinions or insights about how undervalued many people on Pern truly are, just for lack of a knot. Some ranking crafters are fools, while his mother, who he respects to the utmost, has no appreciable rank but a sharp wit and wisdom. With such outlandish ideas about the facts of life, it's no surprise that he has few allies and fewer friends.
Sex is something he views extremely loosely. If there is mutual desire, and nothing standing in the way (pre-existing partnerships, incomplete duties, etc) he'll jump right in bed with pretty much any adult. That makes him sound promiscuous, but he really isn't: he just knows how to go after what, and who, he wants. Even if the poor object of his affection isn't certain what gender this admirer belongs to.
His masquerade as a female began as a joke, but has become something of a self-defense mechanism. Women aren't often viewed as threatening, after all. The appreciation he receives for just doing his job increased twofold since he started applying the makeup, which in itself is encouraging enough that he plans to continue the practice indefinitely.
When real self-defense is needed Jayce is more likely to let the other person tire themselves out while he near-literally dodges around them. (He isn't good at brawls, so it makes more sense to utilize what he's good at- agility, avoiding blows- than trying to forcibly overpower the other.)
In spite of being observant and intuitive, he doesn't like to pay attention to how his actions directly affect others- it puts him in danger of losing his convictions. Because when self doubt strikes this effete man, it does so brutally and wholly, sometimes bringing his mood low for days. Oddly enough, anger is a rare emotion for Jayce. The closest he usually gets is irritation, or maybe disgust - especially when others exhibit a lack of self discipline.
Family:
- Jaymal (father) - deceased at 29
- Donian (stepfather) - beastcrafter - 48
- Sennia (mother) - kitchen assistant @ Telgar Weyr - 40
- Reya (sister) - kitchen assistant @ Telgar Weyr - 22
- Phamian (half-brother) - apprentice beastcrafter - 14
Background: Early winter, 1235. Pern's number increased by one more inconsequential, squalling child. Inconsequential except to the people who loved him. Jaymal, the proud father of this squishy little red thing, had already sired a girl child, and now felt his life was complete. He'd achieved his dream of finally buying a trained runnerbeast just the summer before, and his woman was absolutely radiant. Life was good, though they were pretty poor- even if the gosh-durned baby wouldn't take a teat and hush!
They were living in the same home Jaymal's family had occupied for generations, always working the cotholder's land. A simple dwelling, more appropriately termed a cabin, set a goodly distance from the cothold for increased privacy. Sennia, daughter of the cotholder, had always known who she would marry. The boy child spent the first two Turns of his life not quite spoiled, always toddling after his father, until the horrible tragedy occurred.
An unseasonable storm gusted up one evening while Jaymal was forking hay down from the loft of the cotholder's barn, his young son playing alongside him. Lightning played through the clouds, nothing to fear until it forked down and struck the barn. The sweeping rain that followed could not put out the blaze, but Jaymal took up Jayce in his arms and leaped from the loft. Sennia came running to take the boy, and though she screamed at him to stop, her husband ran back in hoping to set loose the beasts. He was just coming back out with the last of them when a burning beam fell and crushed his skull.
The next morning, Jayce's hair had changed from dark brown to near-white. Eventually he and his sister Reya stopped asking if Pa was coming back. The days dragged on. Sennia tried to keep things in order, but with all the work that was required on a farm- well, the cotholder turned them out in order to install a new family in the cabin. Not unkindly: he gave them a name, a destination, and a run-down cart in which to get there.
The broken family arrived at Telgar Weyr to start anew, and though the cotholder's cousin did what she could for them, Sennia didn't get over her loss for three Turns. By then, an older beastcrafter had fallen in love with this poor fragile woman, and finally cajoled her to remarry. Young Jayce and Reya were running wild- a father figure would do them good.
Those early Turns were among the hardest for Jayce. His sister wasn't always around to stand up for him when the weyrbrats came a-teasing, and everything was fodder for their insults. You look like a girl. Your hair matches my granny's. You ain't got a real father. What kind of boy plays with dolls? (And so on, and so on.) Instead of getting angry, he got even. Fat drippings rubbed secretly on boot soles, itch powder sprinkled into certain laundry vats, purloined fellis juice mixed into a berry cobbler he 'let' them steal from him... it all added up, and eventually, he was left more and more alone. The bullies also happened to be tattlers though, and he was pegged as a trouble child, not expected to amount to much. Oftentimes, his younger half-brother Phamian was egging the bullies on.
Phamian hated him, with an all-consuming passion that was frightening at times. For what? For being born first.
In addition to the trouble in his own life, the troubles of the Weyrs of Pern trickled down. This dragon had died; that Weyr hatched a mentally challenged queen. It was too much, and the young man stopped listening, to better focus on straightening out his own life. Jayce tried to follow in his stepfather's footsteps and learn the beastcraft trade, but he was deemed unsuitable for the hard menial labor by the Weyr's journeyman on duty. He simply could not build up the muscle mass thought to be required fast enough to suit, though with time he could have achieved the strength. It was all part of his not-entirely-earned infamy.
Since his mother didn't have a trade to teach him, besides cooking anyway, he was pretty much forced into the lowest of low ranks: drudgery. The less said of that unhappy time, the better. When his half-brother Phamian became the beastcraft apprentice of the family, and started rubbing it in Jayce's face all the time, the fifteen-Turn-old youth ran away. After standing as candidate for all those hatchings and coming up with no mindmate, he figured he'd have to find something else to do with his time. Away from his mother's bubbly 'everything is perfect' attitude, his sister's unspoken empathy, his half brother's grinning condescension, his stepfather's blind eye to injustice. Away from the snide remarks about him just being a 'girly boy.'
The boy made his way slowly south, taking his time (and anything else he felt like taking, from whoever he could con things from), until a caravan of traders happened to catch him in the act of thievery. Luckily for him, they didn't report him, instead sort of adopting him into their band- in part, no doubt, because they thought he was a young lady. The caravan leader himself performed the scarification for Jayce, marking him as part of the trading 'family.'
Eventually there was news from the Weyrs- laughable news- that some dimglow dragonriders thought the old myth of Thread was real. Doomsday, doomsday! Jayce didn't think it was so funny, but by now he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Usually. He worked for his meals, worked up in rank until he was permitted to do a bit of business on the side for himself.
Discreet inquiries at a gather finally connected him with one of those 'eccentric' riders who thought Thread was coming back. After listening to the evidence, he was fully as convinced as the greenrider, and agreed to support the coalition effort in any way possible. He went straight to the mentor who'd taught him everything he knows about trading, Rian, and after dropping subtle hints convinced him that it would be in the best interests of the caravan to expand their influence onto the water as well. If nothing else, they might get a discount on goods at certain ports.
Jayce hadn't intended on carrying this out himself, but after Rian suggested it, he realized what a golden opportunity it was. At eighteen Turns of age, he was not yet too old to take on as a deckhand, but had the advantage of experience trading. Maybe he could rise in standing on a deck as he had in the caravan. Then it would be even easier to make sure certain loads were... misdirected favorably to the coalition riders.
By now the caravan was near to completing its circuitous route of the northern continent, and was picking up supplies at Nerat Hold before making the run to Benden, where smoked fish were always a welcome exchange for wine. While they were stopped at Nerat, Rian provided an introduction to the captain of the Ocean Star vessel that was having a few repairs done, dry-docked for the sevenday.
It was pure chance that Rian was acquainted with this particular ship. In fact the aging man always looked for it when the caravan pulled in to port Holds. The captain of the Ocean Star, Oran, agreed to take Jayce on - as long as she didn't distract his crew with sleeping around. He had good solid men aboard, but human nevertheless. Jayce ducked his head and accepted what he was told, letting them all think he was a young woman. Only one of them ever found out otherwise.
Though the girl was several Turns his junior, Orlaithe, daughter of the ship's captain, was friendly in spite of seeing right through Jayce's disguise. (What sort of woman never had a menstrual cycle?) If anything, the girl reminded him of his sister Reya. In spite of the casual friendship Orla extended, the young man is determined to win rank on his own merit, and not because of who he knows. He is no longer a cabin boy, but can't yet claim a title other than deckhand. On occasion he helps in the galley, cooking and cleaning, but mostly he does the same exact work any of the deckhands could have done.
A Turn and a half of being stuck on a ship hadn't bothered him much; he accustomed rapidly to the endless sway of the rolling waves, though when they put in to shore, it felt like the land was rocking. He made contact with the caravan traders he still 'belonged' to, any time he was able, even making arrangements for items to be 'left behind' in an empty clearing off the beaten path between Bitra and Lemos. (And picked up by coalition riders, of course. For a fee!) It chafed, a bit, that no promotions came, but Jayce saw it as just a matter of time.
After the smuggling fleet came to rest at the western archipelago, Jayce contrived to be left on dry land. It's taking time to establish himself, but he is certain that after his trustworthiness is accepted by the coalition, he can be more of an asset. He still 'belongs' to the trading family; the scarification on the backs of his hands are proof enough of that. For now, he must be content with South Run, dangerous though it is. At least there are no leviathans on land.
Pets: N/A
Color Preference: Anything, or nothing.
