Sai's Stories

[saidaltam]

WIP

Benden Heir/Apprentice Harper Farran

Pending

Accepted

Wingsecond T'rel of bronze Vijaith
Candidate Kalley
Weyrling Kirnin of green Similath
Weyrling T'van of blue Ghalyth
Wher Candidate Simaen

Deceased

[saidaltam]

Status: Accepted
Show Us Your Colors

Name: T'rel (Tiarel)
Rank: Wingsecond | Bronzerider
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Hetero
Wing: Honor

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: T'rel stands on the short end of average, being a couple inches over five and a half feet, and is wiry and strong, rather stronger than he looks. He is of a middling skin tone, neither pale nor tan, with dark, mahogany brown hair, which he keeps in a tight, tidy tail. When unbound, it falls, thick and wavy, just past his shoulders. His features are marked by strong lines, but contradict one another with great frequency, as though the hand that sculpted him could not decide whether his face should be of a masculine caste or an androgynous one. His jaw has a feminine point to it, and his cheekbones are high and elegant. However, his sharply pointed, narrow nose broadens just below his eyes, where it was broken at least once, and his brows are set low over his eyes, giving them a faintly sullen quality. His eyes are wide and bright, with a very dark blue-grey colour, and framed by effeminately long lashes. Slim hips, a narrow chest, and slender arms do little to help his masculinity. His hands, however, are long fingered, nimble, and strong, with a distinct bony quality and the indefinable 'something' that makes it apparent that they do not belong on a woman. This unusual mixing of gender cues makes defining whether T'rel is masculine or androgynous, and whether or not he is attractive, extremely difficult.

Strangely, despite his confusing appearance, T'rel's voice is a mild, soothing tenor.

Personality: T'rel is typically soft spoken and somber. Verbal outbursts are not now and have never been his forte. When he angers, it is slowly and deeply, a cold fire in his belly rather than a blinding inferno, flaring hot and burning itself out. No, T'rel's passions are well contained and strongly tempered by a cool, logical mind. He tends to analyze problems deeply before expressing an opinion, making him seem slow or lethargic to those unfamiliar with his behavior. While he takes his time in forming opinions, however, he also holds them with firm, iron conviction once he has them, and it is only under undeniable evidence to the contrary that he will release them. This has the advantage of making him a staunch and loyal ally in any cause, but the ever-present complication of an overriding tendency to hold a grudge.

Despite his calm demeanor, there are a few things which irritate T'rel rapidly and thoroughly, and foremost among these is inept leadership. For no other reason will T'rel become as quickly or as thoroughly disgusted with someone as the inability to fulfill an obligation which he or she has taken on. This disgust is absolute, and though he will never (or almost never) allow it to interfere with the fulfillment of his own obligations or the execution of his duties, he does not willingly abide the presence of one who cannot or will not do what is needful, when it is needful. When faced with poor leadership which he cannot dislodge, a genuine problem for dragonriders, T'rel tends to pick up the slack, taking on the responsibilities of a higher up with the understanding that he will receive none of the rewards for a job done. This does, he will admit in the privacy of his own weyr, agitate him rather significantly, but he understands his place and the nature of the world to a sufficient degree that, outside of that privacy, he holds his peace.

The greatest complication T'rel faces with frequency is his own very high standards in other people. T'rel holds himself to an ideal of what is and is not acceptable conduct, and failure to meet these guidelines on the part of others results in the rider experiencing a distinctly diminished opinion of the party in question. This is further complicated by a sense of discomfort during interactions with those specimens of the opposite gender with whom, by virtue of Vijaith's amorous exploits, he has had any sort of intimate contact. Few, if any, have ever lived up to his standards in a long-term partner of any kind, and many do not live up to his standards of good conduct, either, making his already awkward interactions with them even more markedly uncomfortable. He has yet to actually find a woman who meets his demanding standards without exception.

History: T'rel was born and raised in the Weyr, where his father served as a Weyr healer for many years. He spent his life around dragons, and, more especially, around their riders. As a weyrbrat, scrambling around the lower caverns in the company of other weyr-bred children, he would orchestrate large-scale games for the lot of them to play together. Most of these seemed to revolve around constructing massive, grand-scale, and utterly nonsensical stories about this place or that place fighting against this other place, and the daring heroics of the noble combatants. Strangely, he was rarely the hero in his own games. Instead, he would volunteer to take on the unwanted roles, because every hero needs an enemy, and, besides, if you had asked him, he would have told you that the villain doesn't have to be doing something that's necessarily wrong, does he? Just something that seems wrong to you.

As he grew older, T'rel discovered the glories of the fairer sex, and took to observing and spending time around them with exuberance and delight. The longer he spent around them, however, the more he found that he didn't find any of them good enough. He began to view most women as unacceptable and look for greater challenges elsewhere. When his father retired, however, and the family moved out of the Weyr and into a Hold, he found that the hidebound views on sexuality in Holds made his challenge unobtainable.

That, luckily for him, was when he was searched. T'rel stood at sixteen, and he viewed the entire hatching with quiet delight. If he was being honest with himself, however, he didn't really anticipate that he would be impressing. When there were a bare five eggs left on the sands, he was nearly positive he wouldn't impress. When it was down to two, there was no doubt in his mind. That was when Vijaith hatched. Long winged, long tailed, and ungainly, the bronze stumbled unsteadily across the sands and tripped over his own tail. T'rel dropped immediately to one knee to catch him, without consideration for the danger of such an action, and the little bronze yelped into his mind, startled by the fall, and simultaneously claimed him as his own.

Life as a dragonrider suited T'rel tremendously. The only problem that arose was Vijaith's amorous exploits. The dragon could not leave the greens alone, and, of course, always tipped his wing at a chance to chase a queen. This was all well and good, but for one thing: Trel was terrible at morning-afters. He didn't consider most, if any, of these women to be acceptable, and he never knew what to do with them after the fact. The perpetual string of awkward situations has made T'rel come to dread and despise green flights, feelings which he has always kept carefully hidden from his dragon.

-Parents: Tarla, mother, 44, holder and wife
Merrel, father, 43, retired healer
-Siblings: Arella, sister, 25, mother of three
Lari, sister, 22, mother of one
Merle, brother, 17, healer apprentice
-Firelizards: N/A -- northern born and bred

V.I.D.
Name: Vijaith
Color: Bronze
Appearance: Vijaith is a large bronze, though by no means exceptionally so, and is sleek, with a long tail and long wings. His build is faintly reminiscent of a great cat. Finely muscled and elegant of gait, the dragon holds himself with pride, well aware of his own form. His hide is a deep bronze, heavily undertoned with various shades of green, most especially visible on the underside of his wings and along the bottom of his neck. A few scars cross the dragon's hide, the legacy of time spent in combat training with his beloved rider, and his rear right leg bears the discolored scars that tell of a training accident and the resultant burn. Careful time and effort on part of both dragon and rider are all that save him from suffering a weakened leg today.

Personality: Vijaith is much more social and flirtatious than his rider, with far fewer problems accepting his own moods or interacting with those for whom he feels anything in particular. He is the calm to his rider's responsible, the social to his reserved, and the accepting to his ambitious. He does, however, share the man's pride, to a greater extent even than T'rel possesses it, and is as confident, as well. There is a sense, in this dragon, of entitlement, as though he believes that he and his rider deserve the whole of Pern and the finest of everything handed to them. He is also, however, of the firm conviction that what they have IS the finest of everything, or they would not have it. The impossibility of this notion has never actually struck the dragon.

History: Vijaith was the second to last egg to hatch, from a small clutch that bore only one other bronze. For a bronze hatchling, he was rather small, and his long tail and wings made him highly ungainly. When he fell before a handful of candidates, it was T'rel who caught him, dropping to one knee at the dragon's startled cry in his mind. It was a most unconventional impression.

Vijaith grew quickly, however, and rapidly outstripped his projected size, and, eventually, even the average size of a bronze, though not by terribly much. During training, he took pride in being the best. He wasn't, at everything, or, frankly, at much, but he took pride in it, nonetheless, under the firm conviction that he could do nothing less than excel at everything he did. Even the incident during flaming training that left Vijaith's rear leg scarred didn't diminish the dragon's easy confidence.

Maturity hit Vijaith with a vengeance when a large, swift green rose, and the next day saw an embarrassed and awkward T'rel and a cheery Vijaith, jovially enjoying his new-found pastime of flattering the various female dragons of the Weyr with whatever poetic images he could conjure or, more often than not, pluck from T'rel's mind, much to his rider's chagrin. The dragon has spent the past several turns indulging flights like idle pastimes and reassuring his rider that he is overreacting whenever a problem arises.

Other:

[saidaltam]

Status: Approved
Show Us Your Colors

Name: Kalley (K'lay)
Rank: Candidate
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Hetero
Wing:

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: Kalley is tall. There are no two ways about it. Standing just over six and a half feet, and still not done growing, the sturdy young man is a small walking wall. He is of a middling skintone, with a faintly olive undertone to it, and has short, glossy, almost blue-black hair, which he keeps cropped off at his ears. His hair is thick and straight, but has just enough of a hint of wave to keep it from hanging flat and lank against his head. His large brown eyes are the color of honey, framed in femininely long, dark eyelashes, but that is the only thing about him that is feminine. A strong jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and a somber brow all give a masculine cast to his face. With muscular, powerful arms and legs to match, along with a sturdy chest, it is only his clean-shaven face that spares Kalley from looking much older than he is. His hands are large, strong, and calloused by a lifetime of hard work. However, there is a distinct gentleness to his gestures, in spite (or perhaps because) of his size. He possesses an air of quiet calm and even-handed dignity.
Personality: The air that surrounds Kalley is not undeserved. He is, indeed, a very quiet, calm, and even-handed young man. Being the oldest of four, Kalley has known responsibility from a young age, and he assumes it without complaint. His nature is such that taking on any duty in need of doing has never so much as caused a raised eyebrow from the boy. A firm believer in fair play, the composed Kalley would rather see an issue resolved in the fairest manner than in the one which serves his interests best, almost without exception.

The greatest and most noteworthy exception to this rule is in regards to his siblings. Kalley is very sour about what he perceives as "unfair treatment" on the part of his mother. There is no question that her marriage to his father was not a happy one, and he feels that she plays favourites severely toward the children of her current husband. Accordingly, he has become highly biased against his two youngest siblings, to the point of irrationality. He is more biased against his brother Trevan than against the youngest child, Ava, feeling it too unfair to treat Ava poorly, at a bare nine years old. On the other hand, toward his only full-blood sibling, Kirnin, Kalley is extraordinarily overprotective. He perceives her as his only real kin, and becomes very jealous of Trevan and Ava whenever they spend time with her, convinced that they are trying to use or take advantage of her. It is very rare, however, that Kalley will discuss his family, or, indeed, anything else he views as important, because he doesn't believe in sharing personal business with the rest of the world. Despite his biases, he is publically very friendly toward both Ava and Trevan. Kalley does not view his conduct as unfair.
History: Kalley's parents were unhappily married for several turns before Avalie turned up pregnant. She had more than once considered leaving her husband, but when she became pregnant with Kalley, and then, not a few months after his birth, with Kirnin, she had to put her plans on hold. She had been a healer apprentice when she'd met her husband, and had left training to go marry him, something she always held against him. When Kirnin was an infant, Kevrick went out to sea to fish, and Avalie took both children, all her possessions, and the money that she and Kevrick had saved, and moved out of the small Hold where Kevrick fished from. She moved her small family north, to Ruatha Hold, where she told people that her husband had died tragically at sea. There, she met Doral. She and the older man hit it off promptly, and before Kalley was even three turns, she was wed and pregnant, again.

That was when things started going sour for Kalley. As he and his sister were the product of an unhappy marriage, and Avalie genuinely loved her new husband, she (unconsciously) did, indeed, favor the child of her new husband over those of her old husband. They called the boy Trevan, and with his sweet brown eyes and bright baby smile, he was quickly the light of her life and the bane of Kalley's.

As time passed and another child was added to the passle, Kalley's resentment of Trevan and Ava became progressively greater, and his protectiveness of Kirnin also swelled. Height and bulk quickly caught up with him, as well, and when the boy was barely ten, he was already plenty large enough to aid Doral in tending his herd, which only served to further cultivate the boy's muscles. The responsibilities of being an eldest child were quick to train the lad into steady responsibility, and tending Doral's runners helped him to master an air of quiet calm and unshakable composure. It wasn't long before the lessons of runner-tending began spilling over into the rest of Kalley's life. Between that gentle calm and his considerable height and bright eyes, he quickly found that, even at a young age, he was more than marginally popular with the female population, a situation which he never hesitated to enjoy with as much kindness and care as he possibly could.

It was shortly after word of Astoth's flight reached the family that Kalley decided he was going to go stand for the eggs that would result. With barely a word to suggest the idea, he had Kirnin talked into joining him. To his dismay, she mentioned it to Trevan, and Trevan opted to accompany them, to the same ends.
-Parents: Kevrick, 44, fishcrafter journeyman (believed deceased)
Avalie, 42, wife, apprentice healer
Doral, 49, beastcrafter (stepfather)
-Siblings: Kirnin, sister, 16, Candidate
Trevan, half-brother, 14, candidate
Ava, half-sister, 9, child

[saidaltam]

Status: Approved
Show Us Your Colors

Name: Kirnin
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Bi
Wing:

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: Kirnin is short. There is no other word for it. Despite having very tall siblings, Kirnin takes after her grandmothers, barely topping five feet. She has a paler version of the faintly olive complexion that her brother Kalley has. However, she lacks his striking blue-black hair. Instead, she has long, thick, mahogany brown curls spilling in a wild mess down to her waist. Pixie-like features and wide, bright eyes of so pale a brown as to be almost golden give her a soft appearance. Soft, full lips, a small nose, and a long, slender neck finish off her features.

Kirnin is also slight, with endowments on the smaller end of the 'average' scale. She is more than a little self-conscious about that, though she hides it well behind a facade of easy confidence and the steady layer of certain pride that she emits. This latter is not feigned.
Personality: Kirnin is a lot more aware than either of her brothers, and much more capable of seeing the bigger picture, despite both of them having better vantage points. She knows that her mother plays favourites. She also knows that it's neither Ava nor Trevan's fault. She is also more aware than her elder brother that it is not intentional on their mother's part. As such, she has made it her responsibility to shield Trevan from the worst of his bias.

She is also aware that Trevan and Ava are both spoiled terribly, and it disgruntles her, but she believes that they can both be salvaged, as well, and, whenever possible, tries to find a way to do so. On top of that, she often plays mediator for her friends, her siblings, her parents, and any other strays who stumble through her path. Between all of these responsibilites, plus every other complication of being a sixteen year old, Kirnin has developed a noteworthy, sharp temper.

Despite her keen ability to observe the behavior of others toward one another, however, Kirnin lacks any and all ability to recognize the behavior of others toward her. This has caused her more than once to inadvertently dash the hopes of a Hold boy's tentative flirting for failure to recognize it for what it was. She is also very much unaware of her own unique place in the chaos that passes for familial affection in her rather unique and bewildering home, beyond that of mediator.

While Kirnin is a very proud woman and not at all adverse to a little socializing, life has left her very little time for such luxuries. She spends far more of her time being much older than she actually is. Accordingly, Kirnin has no interest whatsoever in leading. She would much rather be the right hand, the power behind the throne, so to speak, and give the leader the luxury to lead. She gives good advice, when one is prudent enough to heed it, and she feels that, if she could obtain such a position, though she doubts it's possible, she would finally be able to have the luxury to lead the life that she wants, instead of living for everyone else.
History: Kirnin's parents were unhappily married for several turns before Avalie turned up pregnant. She had more than once considered leaving her husband, but when she became pregnant with Kalley, and then, not a few months after his birth, with Kirnin, she had to put her plans on hold. She had been a healer apprentice when she'd met her husband, and had left training to go marry him, something she always held against him. When Kirnin was an infant, Kevrick went out to sea to fish, and Avalie took both children, all her possessions, and the money that she and Kevrick had saved, and moved out of the small Hold where Kevrick fished from. She moved her small family north, to Ruatha Hold, where she told people that her husband had died tragically at sea. There, she met Doral. She and the older man hit it off promptly, and before Kirnin was even two turns, she was wed and pregnant, again.

Kirnin remembers nothing of this time, having been very young at the time, but she was a bright enough child to recognize what was going on around her at a relatively young age. As a child of five, Kirnin was playing mediator already, carefully apportioning her playtime between her two brothers. By seven, she was mediating Kalley's lashing out at Trevan between the boys and her mother. By ten, she was her mother's favorite counsellor. By twelve, she was Ava's favorite babysitter and 'besterest' sister. By fourteen, she was running time management for her brothers' chores with the herd. By sixteen, she was extraordinarily tired of it all.

Then, word came to the hold of Astoth's flight, and Kalley announced his intention to stand. Kirnin immediately offered to go with him. The next day, she told Trevan, and was not even remotely surprised with the boy packed his bag to join them. All the act brought her was a small sigh and the thought that perhaps her job wasn't done yet, after all.
-Parents: Kevrick, 44, fishercrafter journeyman (believed deceased)
Avalie, 42, wife, apprentice healer
Doral, 49, beastcrafter (stepfather)
-Siblings: Kalley, brother, 17, Candidate
Trevan, half-brother, 14, candidate
Ava, half-sister, 9, child
-Firelizards: brown Little Baby

Name: Similath
Color: Green
Appearance: Similath takes after her queenly clutchmate in that she is very tiny for a tenth pass dragon. She’s not short and stubby, rather she is almost deformed by being long in all aspects. Long neck, long tail and very long wings are attached to this slim body. She’ll never have a blue or even a normal green’s stamina but she’s got speed. She’ll easily be the fastest dragon in the Weyr once she’s done growing.
Personality: Similath is a very vivacious green who believes in living life to its’ fullest. She’s very observant for a green, quick to find weaknesses in enemy wings and exploit them. She’s slightly bloodthirsty in that she never shies away from a good fight, but she’s got a head on her shoulders and isn’t stupid. She isn’t smart but definitely not stupid.

[saidaltam]

Status: Approved
Show Us Your Colors

Name: T'van (Trevan)
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Hetero
Wing:

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: Trevan takes after his father in size and his mother in face and feature, making him tall, for fourteen, nearly six foot tall, with warm, soft brown hair and dark, warm brown eyes. He has been assisting his father and elder half-brother with the runners for some few turns, now, and it shows in the way his build lacks much of the awkwardness common to fourteen year olds. Unlike his elder brother, he does not have chiseled features, though this is due, in no small part, to his youth and the baby fat that lines his cheeks. Still, with a bright, warm smile and a friendly, easy manner, he manages to draw almost as much attention as his quiet, brooding sibling. Trevan's voice is bright and warm. His gestures are wide and encompassing. There is little to even begin calling off-putting about the boy's charming smile, and he has a demeanour to match it. With a childlike, careless confidence, Trevan is the picture of social charm.
Personality: Trevan is a social animal. His favorite passtime is socializing. His favorite people are the breathing kind. His goal in life seems to amount to, 'be liked everywhere, by everyone'. Between that and his flirtatious tendencies, he seems to have no real goals or function. Really, even he doesn't see that he has a lot of place in life.

His shallow attitude toward others is not entirely all-pervasive, but it comes very close. It isn't intentional--he does genuinely mean well. However, he is not the most astute lad, where the feelings of others are concerned. He's never really had to be. He was his mother's coddled favorite for so long that he's become accustomed to the world ordering itself around his desires and is always mildly surprised to discover that others have wants, too. It isn't out of a wish to be cold or hurtful, but all too often, that is the result. When Trevan can actually be made to realize his own selfishness, he becomes very apologetic. He will go out of his way to attempt to make up for the acts. For a good sevenday, he becomes one of the most charming people one could ever ask to meet. However, it never lasts, and before long, he's back to his old patterns.

Trevan has never understood why his elder brother dislikes him, but even he hasn't been able to miss that fact.
History: Trevan never knew Avalie's first husband, and he is rarely brought up. When Trevan was born, the woman was happily married to his father, living in Ruatha Hold with both of his elder siblings. From an early age, it was apparent that Kalley did not like him. However, Kirnin was always very protective of him and, later, of Ava, so he didn't worry about it. His mother adored him, showering affection on him and plying him with pet names. His father was no better.

When Ava was born, she became the new pet, but Avalie was careful to never neglect her precious young son, and so he never grew to resent the younger girl. However, neither did he ever show any interest in her, happy to play with his toys and numerous friends and ignore her.

By his teen years, Trevan was spoiled rotten and didn't even know it. His warm demeanour and friendly eyes made him an adept charmer. There were few who disliked the social, outgoing, and chatty young man, and fewer still who could resist his infectious smile. By then, he was working with his father and brother on the runner herd, but he didn't particularly mind. He was fond of being strong, and it didn't cut that much into his social time. He generally found a way to slip out early, after all. He wasn't needed all that badly, and there were a couple of very sweet girls in the Hold whom he had an eye for.

When Kirnin told him that she and Kalley were going to go to the Weyr to stand for the eggs, he was stunned, but it didn't take him long to recover. Once he did, he threw together a bag and cheerfully joined after them, promising his favorite girl he'd be back with a dragon just to show her. It's a promise that he probably won't remember by the time they get to the Weyr.
-Parents: Doral, 49, beastcrafter
Avalie, 42, wife, apprentice healer
-Siblings: Kalley, half-brother, 17, Candidate
Kirnin, half-sister, 16, weyrling
Ava, sister, 9, child

Name: Ghalyth
Color: Blue
Appearance: Ghalyth is what poets and writers had in mind when they termed the word blue. It’s a deep rich true blue that cannot be mistaken for a dark, light, green or gray blue. It’s a rather fetching color actually. Ghalyth will take what his clutchmates lack in size. He’s a very large blue, quick and agile, the very essence and being of the blue caste. He’s perfect in other words for his color.
Personality: Ghalyth is like the gentle giant. He clings to his rider as if his rider will disappear any moment. Afraid of the dark, he’s needy to a fault, even when he doesn’t need anything. Ghalyth is very shy as well but he would like to make friends.

[saidaltam]

Status:WIP
Show Us Your Colors

Name: Farran
Rank: Heir to Benden Lord Holder
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Hetero

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: Farran wears his dark brown hair tidily brushing his shoulders. Like the rest of his appearance, he has gone to great, careful lengths to see to it that it is clean and proper in all ways. His clothing is never out of place or of less than high grade materials. His posture is impeccable. His mannerisms are careful and polite.

Despite all of this, and the air of overriding confidence and right-of-command that clings to him, however, Farran is by no means a handsome man. His chin is too sharply pointed, his nose too narrow, and his features too stark. He is just a touch too pale for his own hair and eyes, and there is a faintly golden undertone to his skin, which makes him look just a little off-colour all the time. His mouth is a finger's width too wide, and his lips are just a little too thin. His features are often drawn into a sardonic smile, and it seems almost to have permanently affected the draw of his brows. His dark, lively brown eyes are just a little too intent, a touch too astute, giving him a slightly discomfiting gaze. The flaws are small, both on an individual and collective scale, but they leave him with an uncommon and just faintly malevolent appearance.

Personality:

History: Three or More Paragraphs.

-Parents: Lord Holder Brodran, 41, Benden Lord Holder
Lady Holder Arianla, 39, Benden Lady Holder

-Siblings: none

[saidaltam]

Status:Accepted
Show Us Your Colors

Name: Simaen
Rank: Wher Candidate (but you can hijack him for something else, if you need/want to)
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Bi
Wing: N/A

Give Us A Portrait
-Five Sentences equal One Paragraph-
Appearance: Simaen is not a tall man, but neither is he extraordinarily short, being just on the lower end of middling at a nice, round, 172 centimeters (5'8"). Neither is he a broad man, in any sense of the word, though he is not precisely slender, as such, either. Instead, he is just a little bit on the slim side, but well muscled from years of hard work to offset his appearance. Long, calloused fingers, however, betray his natural build.

There is nothing about Simaen save his hair that would ever cause one to question his gender, under any circumstances, least of all his face. He is not, however, an extraordinarily handsome man. This is not to say that he is ugly. He is not that, either. His features, however, are, if nothing else, engaging. Though there is nothing of any specific note about Simaen's features that makes them striking--his cheekbones are high and pronounced, and his jawline is on the strong side, but beyond that, his features tend toward the middling and generally unremarkable--there is something in his expression and mannerisms that brings an undefinable vitality to his appearance. It is almost as though he wears his emotions on his arm, all too visible for anyone to read. Of all places, this visibility is most especially apparent in his dark, stormy eyes. Though they are inconsistent in color, there is always a greyish undertone to them, and they tend to be brownish, fading periodically into hazel.

Simaen's most striking feature, however, is far and away the curtain of long, rich auburn hair that spills in a gleaming, beautiful fall down his back. It hangs straight and thick, framing his face, and is almost exclusively the first thing anyone notices about him. This may be because of its color, the way that it shines, or the peculiarity of seeing hair that long hanging unbound and wild on anyone's head, least of all a man's. Simaen, however, loves it, and becomes almost vicious at the slightest suggestion that it even be trimmed.

Personality: If any word accurately describes Simaen, it is broken. His mind is far from healthy, and his coping methods are much less so. Nevertheless, cope, he has, and rather impressively, at that, considering just how much reason he has to have broken.

As an early teen, Simaen went through a period of acute despondency, during which he found himself loosing all interest in the world. The apathy left him aching for some kind of feeling and some sense of control over his own life, and, in his desperation, he grappled for the only thing which he knew was his: himself. For a very short period, he resorted to self-inflicted damage, but that didn't last long. He still bears the scars of it, however, and likely always will.

Failing his earliest attempts at finding some control, Simaen turned to other options. Sexuality became a swift escape for the young man, and for a short time, he became extremely careless in his choice of partners. It was the day that he chose to dally with the nephew of Telgar's Lord holder that finally brought that to a close. However, though a sharp fist to the back of his head was sufficient to teach the boy discretion, it never did teach him the imprudence of his conduct. To this day, he still favors this indulgence when the opportunity arises. It has also left him with a tendency to apply pet-names to everyone, without exception, "pet" being one of his favourites.

Simaen's third and greatest vice, however, is far and away his alcohol. It is a rare night that passes when Simaen does not find himself curled in his favourite overstuffed chair, folded around a bottle of whatever liquor he managed to get his hands on, drowning himself in the oblivion at the bottom of a bottle.

Simaen is not purely viced, however. He does have a few redeeming qualities. The first is that, when he is at his most functional, Simaen is terrifyingly efficient and almost frighteningly thorough at every task set before him. Atop that, he seems to listlessly be seeking some sort of calling to which he can devote himself.

Something else which should probably be noted is that Simaen is not merely intelligent: he is brilliant. With a mind like a diamond, a razor wit, and a knack for swift, logical deduction, there is very little which passes by Simaen unnoticed. There is, however, a good deal about which he just does not particularly care, and so, he will note things and then, as often as not, disregard them as not his concern. Still, with some frequency, he will find himself surprised by the unusual facts he manages to string together into unlikely deductions.

History: Simaen does not talk abut his childhood while sober. There are no exceptions, whatsoever, to this rule. Pressing him on the matter results in him growing irritated. Continued insistence results in anger, which can potentially be provoked into a rare display of violence.

In his cups, he can be cajoled to tell his story.

Simaen's mother was Nabolese. His father was the son of a low-grade trader who frequently indulged in black market goods. Their relationship was little more than a passing indulgence, very nearly a trade for goods, but when she realized she was pregnant, she was swift to notify him. That didn't sit well with the man, who very much preferred his indulgences to caring for a spouse he didn't want and a child he didn't care about, but she was swift to point out that a trade partner would be lost if he neglected her, and his father would have none of that, so they wed, swiftly and quietly, and she was added to the caravan in a hush.

Due to her pregnancy, she was kept under very close watch by her father-in-law, but, once the child was born and pronounced a new, healthy grandson, he dismissed the girl out of hand. He could concern himself with her again if his fool of a son managed to sire another brat on her.

The problem with adding someone who already has indulgence issues to a caravan specializing in the trade of such illicit items, and then ignoring her entirely, is that the situation is often swift to degenerate, and for her, it was no different. By Simaen's second birthday, it was a rare day that his mother was coherent and sober, and by his third, she had drunk and overindulged herself into a coma, saddling her unhappy husband with the child he hadn't wanted, to begin with.

It was only Simaen's grandfather's wish for a grandson that offered him any guardianship whatsoever. With his mother comatose and his father unconcerned with his existence, his grandfather was the only person to take the time to see him fed, clothed, and cared for, and even he made it clear that the boy's value to him lay in his capacity to take up the mantle of his caravan, one day. That is a bit decimating to a person's self-esteem.

Simaen was five when his grandfather fell ill. The healer predicted that the man would eventually recover, but he had suffered a serious stroke, and his recuperation would be a long time in coming. By this time, Simaen had mastered the basics of caring for himself, capable now of seeing his own self clothed and sheltered and proficient at wheedling food that had to be cooked from those who could cook it, or obtaining food which didn't on his own, so the illness was little more than an inconvenience for the boy, though he did worry over his grandfather's well-being.

It was during this time, however, that the caravan passed by Bitra, and Simaen's father found himself in a bind. His debtors, noting his proximity to the Hold, were swift to make clear that they wished repayment, and they wished it now. With his father down and his wife comatose, he had no real source of funds with which to repay them, and so, he offered them a trade which, by all reason, should never have occured: his son to clear his debt.

Though the boy was only five, he was smart and skilled, and his proficiency with numbers, startling for his age, was of value to the cardsharps and gamblers of Bitra. With some education, he became extraordinarily useful, and because he was a child who did not exist, he was easy to hide, to ignore, and to closet away. As far as the world at large was concerned, there was no child Simaen.

For the next six turns, Simaen was repeatedly reminded of where, exactly, his value lay. He knew his place, his use, and the price for his upkeep, and he was frequently advised of the generosity of his keepers in demanding so little for his care. As apart of the price he paid for his upkeep, he was a small mathematical wonder and an artistic mastermind behind the arts of the confidence game, even going so far as to devise new ones on a periodic basis for his keepers. As a lesser token of payment, periodic dismissive backhands for indiscretion were administered on occasion, insufficient to be considered frequent, heavy abuse but common enough to become the norm.

By eleven, one of Simaen's keepers noted the boy's then-still-pretty features, and complications in the lad's life escalated severely. Like those before it, this newest form of abuse was carefully restricted to levels which would not destroy the boy, but they did continue to harm him, and such things will compound over time.

The problem with the kind of activities Simaen's keepers were involved in, however, is that they cannot continue forever. The competition is fierce, the guard is intolerant, and all it takes is one ill-guarded moment to bring the entire tower of power tumbling down. Simaen was thirteen when his own keepers were reminded of this, forcefully, as an incursion at the hands of another gambling lord brought his keepers to their knees. In the ensuing chaos, Simaen was swift to flee.

With no money, no name, and no guardian, however, Simaen discovered that his position was no less precarious than it had been before. Apathy began to set in, and the young man entered into his period of self-inflicted harm. Despite this, he quickly discovered that he could not stay in Bitra Hold, lest the vestiges of his past come back to haunt him, and so he sought passage away from Bitra, to the furthest corner of Pern that he could think of: Telgar Hold. Of course, Simaen had no means of actually paying for his passage, but he could do as his father had done, so many turns before, and that was exactly what he did, trading himself for the means of reaching his goal.

The journey was not short, by any means, nor was it uneventful. It was during this period of travel that Simaen came to the conclusion that, as he had already stripped himself of all value and dignity, there could be no shame in indulging in whatever pursuits struck his fancy at the time, and, having accepted that self-damaging was not giving him any control, he turned to physical indulgence of a different nature. Within the walls of a hold by which the trader caravan Simaen was traveling with (not his father's clan) passed, Simaen found himself enjoying a brief but passionate dalliance with the nephew of the local Lord Holder. At the conclusion of their encounter, however, the man, having gotten what he wanted, advised Simaen that it would be in his best interests to keep their encounter to himself. The advice was both verbal and physical. After that, Simaen's choice of bed partners became rather more cautious.

Simaen was barely fifteen when that happened, and it was after that day that he turned to drink. Dreadfully frightened of ending up the way his mother had, he was very careful to show the utmost caution in all other things when he turned to the bottle, and he carefully avoided mixing anything, especially healers' herbs, with his liquor, but the bottle was quick to become is closest ally.

Within the next few months, Simaen, at length, finally reached his destination, leaving the caravan behind.

-Parents: Shaya, mother, 51, comatose
Evron, father, 50, tradesman
-Siblings: none
-Firelizards: none

V.I.D.
Name: n/a
Color: n/a
Age: n/a
Appearance: n/a
Personality: n/a
History: n/a

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