Post by Evadne on Jun 14, 2011 16:56:12 GMT -5
Jadore
Name: Jadore
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Prisoner: Yes
Crime: Murder (x 3)
Craft/Rank: N/A
Appearance: OOC Note: I'm modeling her on Melinda Clarke but there are some differences.
Jadore is a woman moving into her thirties with a calm and cultured composure. She stands just below average height but lacks the willowy build that so many short women possess. Hers is generous, with curves tempered only a little by the physical nature of a prisoner's chores.
Her skin is a gold that serves as a pale canvas for black hair and deep eyes. That hair is cut short in pixie-style with wispy bangs tickling her forehead.
Her features are classic and elegant; a narrow nose ends abruptly, turning pertly over generous lips and a chin meant for pinching between a thumb and curled finger. Both brow and cheekbones are high and well-formed. Large hazel eyes are set at a feline angle; these are striking eyes, fond of bold looks and stares that seem knowing.
Personality: Ever meet someone who has a smile that makes you worry what they may have heard about you? That's Jadore. She's elegant, refined, highly educated and capable of making both a widow's weeds and a prisoner's uniform appear fete-ready.
There's something earthy about her, a sensuality that comes through in every look and movement. Perceptive people may realize that the keen mind behind her eyes uses these mannerisms the way a crafter might test for weaknesses in their finished product. She probes, she tests and above all else, she is always on the look out for an opportunity to seize the upper hand.
Though perfectly gracious in most companies, Jadore also tends to view others as playthings or tools. Being fully cognizant of her own abilities has left her with a dim view of others' intelligence. Yes, she was caught, and yes, she is now forced to bunk with thieves and recovering addicts. But that doesn't change the fact that she is better than they are. The dirt doesn't touch her and no one can come close to approaching her station in life...even reduced as it is.
History: Southern Boll Hold is rich in holdings but was poor in heirs for a time. There was talk that the Lord Holder's young wife might be barren until Jadore's birth, some seven Turns after their marriage, finally stopped the whispering. A son followed two Turns after and another after that. All seemed well until, when Jadore was six, it was discovered that the Lady Holder had been taking a promising young Woodcraft apprentice into her bed. No one dared say aloud that perhaps it was Jaden who was sterile and Lady Isidore perfectly fertile, especially after the Lord's harsh treatment of his wife. He had her stripped and expelled from the Hold with nothing but a pair of slippers to protect her feet.
It may have been this that scandal, and her mother's harsh exile, that soured young Jadore's views on marriage.
She received the finest of educations and the best that life could offer. The Hold prospered without Thread to threaten its orchards and fields. Life in that tropical setting was lush and sleepy for a young noblewoman with no demands on her but to soak in sun and luxury.
Jadore's idyllic life ended, in her opinion, when her father arranged a marriage for her to the heir of Crom Hold. It was a good match, so far as her elders were concerned. She considered her husband to be both a brute and a lout, but her opinion was neither desired nor given much credence. As soon as she was able, they bundled her off to Crom's harsh territory.
She didn't have to stay long.
Six months after the wedding, Jadore returned home after her husband suffered an unfortunate wasting fever and died. There was much sympathy for the young, pretty widow. Much attention. Jadore enjoyed it, truth be told, until her father announced he'd arranged another match, this time to the second son of Lemos. As everyone agreed that the second son was a good man, superior to his older brother and likely to be tagged as heir, it was a triumph for Southern Boll.
Sadly, this young man also died, appearing to choke on a wherry bone during the marriage dinner.
This time, Jadore was left in relative peace for several Turns. She enjoyed herself to the fullest, in spite of the pall cast over her by being an unlucky bride. Lovers were taken, small adventures of the sort enjoyed by gently bred women were enjoyed. And then, as she approached her twenty-sixth Turn, her father approached her again. Grimly, he stated he was marrying her off to High Reaches' favorite nephew. Just as grimly, he stated (though more quietly, where none could hear) that there'd best be no funny business this time.
And there wasn't, at least for two full Turns. Then Jadore's third husband also died. This time, there was an investigation and it came out that the lady was quite knowledgeable on the subject of poisons. While there was no obvious proof that her first two husbands died in the same way, everyone was happy to believe it as fact. Jadore was sentenced to spend the remainder of her life at Warden's Weyr.
The scandal was breathtaking.
Condemned and disowned, Jadore arrived at Warden's with every intention of doing as she'd always done: pursue her own happiness. It wasn't quite as easy as it had been at Southern Boll but she was clever and adaptable. She minded her manners around the guards and authorities, doled out smiles as if they were precious currency and established herself as a relatively well-behaved prisoner. And, while there were certain advantages to behaving one's self in prison, it wasn't everything she'd hoped it would be. It wasn't freedom.
So naturally, when the opportunity arose, she joined with the outlaws and made good on the promise of a life led for herself. Where she goes from here is anyone's best guess.
Other stuff:
Pets
Name:
Species:
Color: (if relevant)
Appearance: (keywords are fine)
Personality: (keywords are fine)
Algonquith
Name: Algonquith
Color: Opal
Age: Bebby
Appearance:
Algonquith is best described as compact. Small she's got a thick, muscled form, with a short neck and a disproportional long and elegant tail. It's not a graceful or particularly feminine form, but it certainly looks dangerous. Her wingspan is narrow, excellent for trick flying but not intended for speed or stamina.
Her color might make her appear a blue, provided she's seen in a low light environment. Seen clearly, it's obvious she's no such thing. Deep blue, pale green and purple melt together on her hide, which has an undeniably opalescent sheen. She may look nothing like her older sister, but she's an opal alright, cast in an entirely new set of colors.
Personality:
Bitter, sharp, and devastatingly witty, Algonquith has an opinion, and an unfavorable one, about everything. She hates greens. Blues are boring. Browns are dull. Pinks are gaudy. And don't even get her started on grays. You want a pithy witicism about, well, anyone in the Weyr? Algonquith's your girl. And man does she love to share her opinions. If her rider expects that sort of devotion that leads some dragons to talk only to their rider, boy do they have another thought coming. Because she's got things to say about them as well.
Yet, for all her cutting little remarks about, well, everyone, Algonquith shows few signs of meaning any of it. She loves company, particularly clever company. Anyone who can give as good as they get will have her heart in minutes. Indeed, she's a bit of an organizer, the sort of dragon who thinks humans aren't the only ones who can have parties. She wants to be surrounded by sparkling company and is likely to set up regular meetings between herself and her favorites. And if someone else wants to stop by, welcome to them, as long as they can put up with being the butt of everyone's jokes.
In matters of the heart, Algonquith can be somewhat fragile. She doesn't crush, she falls deeply, madly in love. When this happens, the teasing stops. She seems to forget all her wit, her sparkling remarks, becoming fumbling and shy. She'll moon over a becoming male for sevendays, months, losing her appetite, forgetting her friends, and giving her heart and soul to the object of her affections. At least, until they finally return the favor. Algonquith's ardor quickly fades when someone loves her in return.
And maybe that's because, well, Algonquith can't imagine anyone loving her. Oh, she knows she's witty. She knows she can be the sparkling, clever life of the party. But it's show, it's a game she happens to be good at playing. No one could like her for her, could like the lonely, easily bruised little dragon beneath all the laughter. When those thoughts get too close to the surface, Algonquith can be prone to depression and at such times she clings to her rider, needing the reassurance of the one person who will never leave her, who can't leave her. She takes comfort in that, but sometimes seems to resent it. Maybe her rider would leave too, if only they could.
Why Me?
Come now, was there ever any doubt? Jadore is exactly what Algonquith needs. They're united in their view of the world, though Algonquith voices what Jadore only thinks. For her part, Jadore can help her new lifemate mingle a bit more charm with the razor edge of her tongue. Algonquith's greatest weakness is love, a problem that Jadore's never suffered. Maybe she'll teach her rider something of what it means to lose oneself to such an emotion. Regardless, Jadore can help ground and comfort her when she loses her heart.
