Post by giftwrapped on Apr 22, 2011 20:54:07 GMT -5
Jiruyno
Name: Jiruyno (Jiru)
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Prisoner: Yes
Crime: Dust manufacture, fraud, murder, attempted murder, rape, attempted rape, assault. You name it, it can probably be pinned on him, with the exception of arson.
Craft/Rank: Journeyman Healer
Appearance: The first thing to be noticed about Jiru is the quiet confidence with which he wears the vibrant red jumpsuit that marks him as a prisoner. He makes the ensemble look good—or maybe it’s just that he’s good-looking enough that anything hangs off him handsomely. There’s something obnoxiously self-indulgent about his physical mannerisms, a way of moving and standing that suggests that he considers himself wildly important and others should too. He’s graceful, more or less, and light on his feet, though the way he walks and his mannerisms are definitively masculine. Presumably, this is to countermand the fact that he doesn’t give an initial impression of masculinity.
Whatever he may not be (friendly, kind, mentally stable…) he’s certainly pretty. And though other people have tried to use other words to describe him, that more or less sums it up: Jiruyno is beautiful. Standing at 6’1” he’s not small or feminine in any way, but he has a smoothness of form not usually seen in men his height. He’s all slopes and curved lines, with a surgeon’s long fingers and a harper’s delicate hands. His facial features are pretty as well: sharp cheekbones and a narrow chin that give him a slightly effeminate appearance, a wide mouth with full lips, straight nose, and large grey eyes with just the barest hint of amber around the pupil. His hair, when he had it, was the variety of red occasionally generously called “strawberry blonde” but usually just referred to as “orange,” collarbone-length and impossibly sleek. Unfortunately, that’s gone now; since he lost it six months ago, it hasn’t even gotten back to the ‘long enough to be indulgently messy’ stage. He cried when they shaved it.
Personality: Jiru is not cuddly. Jiru doesn’t understand social cues. Jiru smiles like a convicted murderer. Jiru is gay as all hell, but Jiru likes upsetting everyone and has found that sexual harassment is one of the things that achieves that on the grandest scale and as quickly as possible, male or female. He might be beautiful, but that’s just about his only redeeming feature. Jiru isn’t exactly the kind of person you take out for dinner, unless you want him to drug your food, take you home for questionable activities, and casually pocket your jewelry on the way out. It’s highly likely that new prisoners will hear about him from old prisoners—with a firm suggestion that they avoid him. He has more than once made new guardsmen cry.
He is egotistical, cold, and disdainful toward everyone and everything. Healercraft was his life before he was arrested, and he would spend literally days without end in the laboratory, working on little food and no rest to create some new medicine or chemical. Science was his only love; he’s never had a relationship with another human that was grounded in affection, as he views people with the same sort of detachedly clinical interest that he viewed experiments. One of the things that solidified his sentence was the fact that, when evaluated by dragonriders, he admitted to nearly all the crimes of which he was accused, disputed the portrayal of a few of them, and accepted his fate with cold indifference. He does not feel remorse. His conscience is entirely dead—or perhaps it was never there to begin with.
Were he to be psychologically evaluated on Earth, it would be found that Jiru suffers from (well…he enjoys every minute of it) dissocial personality disorder. He is incapable of empathy, and even if he were capable of it, he wouldn’t care about you. Even without the personality disorder to blame, Jiru is out for Jiru, and possibly for some other things that he’s definitely not going to disclose to anyone. He is wholly capable of being polite, even cordial, under the right circumstances, but any friendliness he puts on is an act—he is a stellar liar—and cheer can turn to malice with no warning whatsoever.
Once an abuser, always an abuser, and Jiruyno is the reigning king of emotional abuse. For all his inability to empathize and unwillingness to understand others, he’s fully aware of the broad scope of human behaviour and has learned to read people like Harpers learn to read scrolls—searching for the tiny brushstrokes and indicators that he has hit a nerve, or found a weakness. He collects information on people like you wouldn’t believe, compiling lists in his head of quirks and phobias and triggers; ever on the lookout for things he can exploit, he has emotionally manipulated more than one guard—to the point that new guards aren’t allowed near him until they have proven themselves capable of dealing with an emotionally manipulative prisoner.
But for all his dangers, Jiruyno is proud—impossibly proud. He does not see himself as a criminal, viewing Warden’s as a misunderstanding of his motives on the part of society. He is not, he would argue, a murderer; nor is he a rapist. The men he tumbled were all consenting (though Jiru’s idea of “consent” is somewhat hazy. As long as “yes” is said, it doesn’t matter how many times “no” was shouted, or what he had to do to earn that “yes”) and the people he killed…were not people. Jiruyno harbours deep contempt for Dust addicts and any other people who choose to depend on a foreign substance to live, to the point where he firmly believes they are a scourge on Pern and removing them would be a favour to society. Such a good Samaritan, our Jiru.
And he cultivates a collection of paraphilias, fetishes, and deviant sexual preferences that would make even the most dubious of modern Earth fringe culture jealous.
History: Theoretically, Jiruyno had a normal childhood. He had a mother and a father, and though his mother disappeared fairly early-on (in a manner that nobody ever bothered to explain to young Jiru, who was always closest to his father, anyways) he was never neglected. He did not want for anything. And if his father was a tad emotionally distant after his mother passed, well, who could blame him? It wasn’t as if he didn’t love his son. And Jiruyno was always a pretty self-sufficient creature. And brilliantly intelligent, to boot.
Jiru’s father was a Healer stationed at Fort (his mother had been, also, which made the fact that she apparently died of a wasting illness all the more unusual), and so Jiruyno grew up at the Hall, surrounded by the Craft. He was taught by the neighboring Harpers from the moment he could talk, and by the time he was eight, he had exhausted all their lessons and was already eagerly gobbling up all the information that Healers could give him. He was informally apprenticed to his father at about the same time, and formally Apprenticed to him by ten. By age fourteen, he had entirely completed the studies of junior apprentices. By age sixteen, he had finished his senior apprentice studies.
He walked the tables at an absurdly young sixteen.
The Hall was, understandably, reluctant to post a sixteen-turn-old anywhere as an independent healer, and so they sent him to a small Hold just outside of Fort, where the resident Healer was getting on in years and needed assistance with some of his more…difficult patients. Young Jiru was initially unaware of the sort of work the elderly healer was doing, but it became quickly apparent that the man was a small-time Dust manufacturer in addition to a Hold-healer. And he cheerfully instructed Jiru in small tasks that seemed mundane apart, but when pieced-together properly formed a whole that resulted in one of the most dangerous drugs on Pern.
Jiruyno was fascinated. Here was the route to a substance he had been instructed never to prescribe, consume, or pass. And he was making it. But quickly enough, the violent addicts, the gang-leaders, the Traders looking for smuggling goods—all of it began to grate on the intelligent young man, and Jiruyno became bored of the roughness and the nonsense. After a few turns learning how to deal Dust, he returned to the Hall under the pretext that he was much more interested in research than practical work. And in a sense, this was true. Jiruyno had seen how Dust affected others, and he wanted to discover other poisons and medicines. He began mixing his own usbstances.
It was a dangerous endeavor, and not always successful. His tests with small animals often-times ended in utter failure, and it was rare that any of Jiruyno’s substances got past trial runs on kittens or canines and made it to humans. But when they did, they often had good reception. Jiruyno made good things—and he made them well, and surprisingly quickly. Of course, while he was learning the goods, he was also learning the bads. Remember this. It will be important later.
Somewhere along the line, he worked with one too many Dust addicts. Breaking the addiction wasn’t like fellis; you didn’t just go looking for a fellis tree and cut up the plants that grew near it and tadah! Cured! It was more complicated. It required detoxification and constant monitoring. It was unpleasant. Breaking addicts were unpleasant. Addicts themselves were unpleasant. They were distasteful, disgusting, a disgrace to their kind and they were useless. And Jiruyno began to hate them. It was the first moment he had experienced the emotion that strongly, and the fragile twenty-turn-old nursed it the way others would nurse a child.
By the time he was twenty-three and beginning work on what would become his Master-piece, Jiruyno was a font of cold hatred, carefully-controlled, brought under a firm hand by intellectual genius but never quite far enough away to make it all okay. He came under the wing of a few kind Hall Healers, convinced to do charity work and help both Dust addicts and the families who suffered because of the addictions. Jiruyno agreed; he was working on the chemicals that would bring him his Mastery, and if it was something that kept the Hall viewing him in a favourable light, well. He would do it without question. He wanted very, very much for the Hall to see him that way, and waited impatiently for the day he completed his master-piece and took on a Master’s knots. It came when he was twenty-four.
He should have been promoted to Master. But the Healercraft Master in charge of his Journeyman studies had seen something in him, found a way to peer behind that pleasantly smiling mask and discovered a face underneath that genuinely upset her. She spoke quietly to the conclave of Masters in charge of evaluating his work and behaviour. And though Jiruyno’s master piece was flawless, his presentation impeccable, and his manners ever-pleasant, he was that day denied the right to walk the tables and receive his knots.
No explanation was ever given. Seething, Jiruyno stormed out.
The cold hatred that had previously been reserved for Dust addicts spread—to everyone. The dimglow Healercraft Masters, the idiot woman who had supervised him, the filthy crawling idiots under the thumb of an institution that existed only to allow the discreet creation and purveyance of Dust. That was the world Jiruyno now saw at Healer Hall. Something inside him had snapped, broken beyond repair, and Jiru stopped putting on the face of a human being. He embraced the monster, and the monster embraced him back. With a quiet hand and gentle words, he convinced a few apprentices—handsome young men, strong and intelligent, and also malcontent and headstrong—to come with him.
They left the Hall without warning. Jiruyno took supplies he ought not have, enough to start a practice all his own. And they struck out for an area Jiruyno chose specifically. Half-Circle Seahold, a hotbed of illicit activity. Jiruyno set up a private practice. He thrived. He established himself as a Dust dealer. Addicts came to him in droves, and came away with the best, the highest-quality product that money could buy. Jiruyno grew rich. And he grew reckless. And on occasion, a Dust addict died.
It was nothing to worry about, he assured his apprentices. Some addicts, fools that they were, took too much and stopped their hearts. What mattered was working with Jiruyno, helping him…helping the others, those who weren’t addicts and needed real treatments. He convinced them that they were helping, that the Dust was an unfortunate but necessary side-effect. He became close to both the apprentices. Eerily close. And the dynamic of the relationships left much to be desired. He broke one young man completely, but the other…there was free will left in him yet.
He was the one who noticed when more and more of the addicts began to die. He was the one who found his fellow apprentice dead, hanged in the laboratory one morning before Jiruyno arrived. Jiruyno unceremoniously cremated the body. The remaining apprentice, with Jiruyno for nearly eight turns, exploded. He questioned him on everything, his fallen comrade, the manufacture of Dust, the supplying of dangerous narcotics, experimental seeding of drugs that hadn’t been properly tested…and the dead addicts. First one, dead of an overdose, it would seem. Then another. And another. Soon, everyone who came to Jiruyno was found dead, mere days after.
Jiruyno ignored the death of the other apprentice as if it had never happened, merely smiling slightly at the remaining young man and asking him what there was to worry about. It was just addicts.
Words were exchanged. The apprentice not entirely broken fled. And returned not long after with the Watch. He had made a plea-bargain for himself and blamed Jiruyno’s abuse for the delay in his report. The Watch burst into the office-laboratory in which the Healer worked, arrested him, and brought him before the Dragon Watch’s council. Jiruyno smiled slightly, contested accusations of rape, calmly explained that he regretted none of his actions but denied none but rape. The guilty verdict was unanimously reached. Nobody bothered to even contact Healer Hall for witnesses. None were needed.
And so six months ago, Jiruyno came to Warden’s. He has kept strangely quiet ever since. Admittedly, a large part of that was the fact that he was in solitary confinement, but even now that he has been released from solitary on a trial basis and is occasionally allowed to meet with others, he seems to offer no resistance. At least, on the surface. He will still manipulate guards if given the chance, still seeks the companionship of the easy-to-break prisoners.
Other stuff: Under no circumstances should anyone ever trust him for anything. Also, everything he does may be triggery. Solicit roleplay with Jiru at your own risk, and please, PM me if anything he does makes you too uncomfortable. He's here to be deliciously creepy, but not to really upset anyone OOC. Consider this a trigger warning for any/all Jiruyno threads. Thank you. <3
Pets
His pair, a blue named Trinket and a green named Pet, were killed when he was sent to Warden’s. It’s highly unlikely that he’d be able to make Impression with any others at this point.
Moneth
Name: Moneth
Color: Yellow
Hex Code: FFCC00
Flower: Anemone
Egg: Lurking Stare - Iiateth x Willoth
Appearance: Moneth is only missing a shiny hide to be a hybrid of bronze and gold. Her colors tend to blur together into something usable when it comes to the shadows - the lack of shine to her hide gives away to burnished light browns and brighter yellows, fading into a sleek figure.
As quick in the air as a seal in the water, Moneth is a long, slender girl. She caries vast amounts of stamina in an impressive wingspan. Her neck is long, as are her legs, all in contrast to her thick, muscular tail. When a weyrling, Moneth may be all legs and neck, but she'll grow into herself.
Personality: She sees you. Oh, shiny egg of Ramoth, she sees you.
As one may imagine, this is not a good thing. While Moneth does not snap, does not raise her voice, and Moneth certainly does not pout: she glowers. It'd be surprisingly how pointed and dispairing silence from this dragon can be, and she uses every bit of it to her advantage. Many people find it less then pleasant to be subjected to nothing but cold shoulders – why not harass them into submission, eh? It generally works for those who are less inclined to verbally argue (and if they are, she’s bright enough to at least hold her own).
When not ignoring someone, Moneth is a social girl, poking her nose into anything and everything she can get her claws into. One cannot be a successful administrator when left out of the gossip! She isn’t a chatty Cathy herself, she is an expert at listening, and is unafraid of finding those that she and Hers find interesting. Moneth is a charmer, as well one who needs to know people should be! It doesn’t mean she is all warmth and snuggles, merely cordial.
With the social aspect of her, Month can also veer into the ‘silently social’ sort when she wants to know something without other’s knowing. In short? Moneth is a creeper. She may not go spying on naked folks (all the time), but she is that prickling feeling you get on the back of your neck when A. one is being spied on, B. bad things are going to happen, or C. all of the above. With her almost bronzed coloring, hiding in the jungle shadows comes quite easily to her, and the only thing that can keep her from gleaning even more then she can would be her size.
She disapproves of everything unless 110% effort is given, and if it is not perfect she still dislikes you. Moneth expects more, and not just of her rider - everyone. She is the dragon least likely to concede, but more than happy to let someone else mess up. They aren't her problem, after all, and she probably knew they weren't worth the time to begin with.
Right and wrong, good and evil – rules? Those are guidelines, set into place by people who wanted to make sure that things weren’t erupting into anarchy. Once a dragon has recognized the rules for what they are, a dragon is then allowed to alter them accordingly. ‘Manipulation’ is such a harsh word. Moneth so dislikes harsh words. It’s true, but still.
Random, but true, little factoid: Moneth is gay. Flights are a biological force, and any males following her better be in for a world of hurt. She dislikes her own Flights, but Moneth will give Chase to any female she fancies. It's up to her rider to keep the number of these under control.
Why me? Seriously?
Oh, there are the superficial things - high standards, somewhat 'creepy' outward appearance, being beautiful and frightening at the same time. Those are only skin deep! Moneth sees Jiruyno for what he is, and in that she sees potential. If he gave his all to things all the time, he could be in such a good place, with his Moneth by his side. She will have a rider that appreciates her random little stalkings and what bits and pieces she can toss them. Jiru will have a force to be reckoned with, a huge yellow dragon who doesn't do well when someone gets in her way. She'll understand his obsessions, his distaste for those Dusters (they just gave up on life), and won't judge him for his ... darker sides.
