Post by Lesa on Jan 8, 2011 23:36:32 GMT -5
Gwynell
Name: Gwynell (Gwyn, Nell, Nellie {her parents})
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Prisoner: *snorts* No!
Craft/Rank: Journeywoman Harper/Grayrider
Appearance: Her thigh-length hair is a multitude of hues, dirt brown, mouse brown, golden brown, dirty blonde, golden blond. She even has some red-gold and fire-red mixed in, just to top it off. Despite it’s length or perhaps because of it, Gwynell generally keeps her hair in one long braid down her back – when she’s feeling childish, she will do pigtails or braided pigtails. It is her single vanity, always has been - the one thing that reminds her of home, with Ma combing through her hair and helping her braid it every night before bed when she was young, or in the Hall, chatting with her friends while they all took turns playing with each other's hair: the time before.
Her eyes are small, though not beady, nicely almond. The rich blue of the North Sea, they change, like that great body, in color; they tell her emotions like they were really windows to her soul. Her heart-shaped face is well defined, with a delicate nose and rose-tinged cheeks. Her eyebrows are arched and neat, her lips bowed and pink. Rectangular glasses rimmed in iron perch on the end of her nose. Her hands and feet are tiny, ‘ladylike’ as her Ma calls them, though she despises her size and height, of 4’11”. It’s too short, she thinks, and with near everyone she’s around taller than her, it’s irritating to have to ask for their help all the time to reach things. Genetics at fault, everyone on Pern can see that - her Ma's family there's no woman under 5'6" - but her Da, oh, her Da's family - tallest of his sisters is 5'2". Gwynell just got the rather short, if one pardons the pun, end of the stick.
She’s plump around the middle, ample in bust and hips - to her annoyance. It would be much easier to engage in her beloved swimming (when the waters off of Fort are warm enough to swim, that is), if she could lose the weight, and be the whip-cord thin of the best swimmers. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have that body type, more of the short-only-‘cute’-if-thin. Cursed sweet-tooth! To her horror, she has come to realize that the combination of her plumpness and her long hair conspire to make her seem shorter than she really is – and people treat her as younger than she really is. But she will not cut off her hair, being thought of as younger is good, in its own way. Element of surprise and all. Being seen as shorter… not so much. She’ll deal, however.
Her arms and legs are muscular (said muscle isn't fully visible - it's there, just not to a buff stage, more to a 'I can lift things and am not a weakling' stage), though her calves show their definition, as do the front of her thighs and the narrowness of her forearms and wrists. Her upper arms hide her biceps and triceps mostly, but she does have them - she wouldn't be as good at her hobby of archery if she didn't.
She doesn't do it for training or for muscle or for a want to defend herself (though that is helpful: she's just had hand-to-hand training from her Ma and Da and the numerous of her uncles: they stepped it up when they heard what she had "volunteered" for as her third Journey), but for the fun of it. Her recurve bow ranks on her list of prized possessions, after Halbert, her writing notebook and her boots. She can survive without archery - she cannot without Halbert, it would be harder without her notebooks, and they are her only good pair of boots. The twang and swish of string and arrow and target relax her in a way that writing doesn't, even while it frustrates her in a way that writing doesn't. Her fingers always sting after, for she never has been able to develop the calluses hard-core archers get on their fingertips. She varies between swimming and archery, as archery can be awkwardly done in the winter (cold fingers make things a little difficult), while swimming cannot, but archery is easier to do in the summer.
Prefers pants and shirts for mobility, but does adore the floating feeling of a good skirt or dress. Simple in styling, nothing too ostentatious as she rightly feels that such things dwarf her frame or emphasize certain portions (like her plumpness) that she would prefer to have hidden. Knee length skirts and dresses more than full length, to show her legs and make her seem at least five feet tall. No heels, generally - she can wear them, but always worries about tripping, and in her worry tends to trip, because she's worrying about it. When relaxed she doesn't trip, so she's been wearing them more.
Adores her black leather laceup knee-high boots, a gift for entering the Hall from her paternal grandparents, as they go with practically everything and are both casual and formal, thanks to a bit of embroidery up the sides, silver threading that almost looks like quills - they're practical enough for her visits to the cot-holds to teach, yet nice enough after a buffing to take to a Gather. Her feet haven't grown since she entered the Hall, and so with upkeep and occasional sole or lace replacement she's kept the pair all these Turns, they are practically molded to her feet.
Her Healing pouch (a gift from Nixie and Mikael for when she walked the tables) is near always looped onto her belt. The small-of-the-back placement she carries it is unlike the majority of the Healers - said placement is for Runner packs, not Healers who need to dig around and find sharp needles or glass jars of numbweed. For Gwynell it works, where she wears it. Though it is officially a Healer's pouch, it carries none of a Healer's items now that she is at Warden, aside from gauze and gummed bandages. The majority of her pack, where Healers would carry poison antidotes or other items is instead devoted to her writing and Harpering: the vial slots hold chalk for slates and pen nubs, the large back-area for a Healer's symptom book holds her writing notebook.
Personality: She’s serious, but a jokester. Serious when she needs to be, a mild jokester the rest of the time, she specializes in a sarcastic wit, biting and sharp and to the point. A leader when she needs to be, she can get others to rally under her, but being reserved, it’s hard for her to address those people in the first place: among her friends she is one of the leaders, and in group work with other apprentices she tended to be the one going “Stop fooling around and let’s just get this over with!”, delegating out the tasks and the like, having the idea that everyone else agrees is what they should do after several candlemarks of debate – when she had the idea within the first quarter-candlemark of their meeting! This shyness has gotten better as she has gotten older, leading her now to simply be considered one who is quiet, rather than necessarily one who is extremely shy. Once people allow themselves to listen to her and befriend her, they can find her a fiercely loyal ally and generally shrewd leader, unless they wrong her. Then, all bets are off.
A daydreamer, she tends to be out of the loop socially, though knows all the information after it is worthless – and even then, she can read people well enough to guess at many a problem. She’s smart, concentrating avidly on those topics that interest her and are easy, while working hard through those that do or are not, to get the disliked task or study over with. A firecracker when angry, she’s more likely to stare the person down than go at them verbally, (most of the time, exceptions remarked on below) worried about saying the wrong thing and making the situation worse. Generally considered a peace-maker and very kind because she hates conflicts, normally able to see both sides of an issue, even when she herself is involved in the issue at hand. She’s been working on building up her self-confidence; since she knows its low, and doesn’t like that it’s like that. Seems like she forgives and forgets fairly easily, but does remember the action that hurt her; won’t necessarily bring it up in a completely separate argument, but will hold grudges against those who wrong her past a certain extent. Very determined when she wants something, not afraid to put her whole heart and soul into getting it, whatever the goal may be.
At the same time, a little lazy, she likes to procrastinate. Absent-minded, (in part due to procrastination), sometimes she can barely remember things from one day to the next. She tries, really she does! Even with this absent-mindedness, she still knows all these random facts that don’t have much to do with anything or even each other. She knows much of the practicalities of Healing, thanks to two Healer parents and living in the Hall when young - able to patch up her friends in a pinch, and generally able to assess what’s wrong with them if it’s a minor ache or pain. She never promises what she says is true, since she’s not a Healer, nor training to be one, but normally she’s pretty accurate.
She’s a fair mezzo-soprano, able to hit both the high soprano and most of the low alto notes, when she does sing. She's decent, not brilliant idol-worthy, but solid and generally able to stay on pitch. Loves to sing, just not for giant crowds of people. For herself, sure. As part of a choir, sure. Not alone, by herself in front of all sorts of people - only select people. In part this is because aside from the Voice lessons required as a base of Harper training, her preference has been much more for Composition for lyrics, or rather full stories, meant more to be read than sung.
She has a curious tendency to be driven to plan out certain things, driven to make sure everything works out how she wants it to, that everything is brought to a celebration or on a trip, or even her schooling at the Hall goes as she would prefer it to, planning out even Turns in advance with meticulous detail.
Gwynell has an inner well of strength that has not been particularly tested - she knows it must be there, as her parents are vocal reminding her of the difficulties surrounding not only her birth, but her first several months of life - breathing difficulties and the like, that she has completely outgrown, though at times it seemed she would die from day to day. They laugh that she was too stubborn to die. They now hope that the strength will allow her to get through her Journey at Warden.
The previously mentioned grudges do not come into play often - and when they do, it is best to beware. Gwynell can get on a roll, onstenably stopping the other person from getting a word in edgewise when she gets angry enough, a veritable word-hurling, quite appropriate, considering her occupation. This is very rare, as she does prefer to keep it all to herself - a mental little black book, one could say. Even the pettiest irritations go into it for a time, though they are crossed out (for the most part) once the matter is dealt with calmly. Does not mean that irritation is forgotten, just put aside. Only rarely will these grudges be taken out physically – Gwynell is not physical in making her irritation known, except around family and friends, when her blows are taken as slightly teasing (as they generally are), shoulder-slaps or kicks to the legs under the table, rather than all out punches or terrible violence to vulnerable parts of the body. She will play pranks: never completely vicious, (tacks under bedsheets being a particular favorite), just enough to make her point, even if the one pranked doesn’t see it that way.
She doesn't like admitting that she cares what other people think about her, but she does, quite a bit - it rankles, she would much prefer to be one of those who doesn't really care, or at least seems not to care - again, she hopes this will become better as her self-confidence gets better, and indeed it has, but she still worries about making a good first impression. Indeed, she worries about making an impression on those who see her near every day; excluding her closest friends and family, those who she knows will stand by her no matter how she looks: they know that it is her heart that counts, not her looks.
Her teaching style tends to be casual and breezy, or so it seems to the children as she chatters with them and teaches them the Teaching Songs and basic figuring. Her patience with their antics on occasion many not be the best, but her glares work better on children than on adults, so they mostly behave without her resorting to bellowing - she has her Da's Healer bellow when she wants to. Her primary students are the littler ones, those between five and ten Turns - they listen to her and generally adore her as she's perfectly willing to bake them all biscuits and other treats as rewards for good behavior, and willing to let them color (though she is sneaky, having them color pictures she drew up of important Teaching Song moments: teaching the Songs and coloring between the lines for motor control and having fun all at the same time!). However, her teaching will change when dealing with the prisoners. Not too much, as she can’t change everything, but certainly a bit more serious, and unlikely to make up coloring pages; though if allowed she may still make them biscuits.
Archery and swimming make up the majority of her exercise, aside from walking around the Hold. As long as she teaches the children and will sing or read from her works for the Hold when asked to, they don't want her helping with nets or any such thing: she doesn't know what she's doing, and would just make everyone else's life harder. In the past few sevendays she has begun fiddling with finally learning how to play the gitar - she is no where near accomplished with it, barely learned the chords as of yet. The Composition track she went with in the Hall meant she didn't have to learn, unless she wanted to: she was just doing Lyrics, not Songwriting in its entirety. She will practice her hand-to-hand skills - though they are not so much skills as short lessons for which she has not had a real tutor; makes it hard to practice, meaning such a thing as seeing her practice is very, very rare.
History: Rumors abounded at little Imvilla Hold, one of the many offshoots of Telgar Hold. It seemed Mikael, son of Holder Honri was not only staying at Healer Hall to walk the tables. He was staying at the Hall and marrying! He wouldn't be coming back to Imvilla at all, except to visit - his wife-to-be was that Journeywoman Healer Nixie he was always talking about. His parents minded only a little. They had seen what was in the wind - their Mikael had chattered on and on about Nixie from the first time he came home as a Junior Apprentice, about this Senior Apprentice girl who was so quiet and serious and smart that it was the only way she was already a Senior Apprentice but younger than him! Honri had Divad to rule their small hold after him - Pulo, while the eldest son, refused to mix his being a Harper with being a Holder: his reputation as a judiciary Harper was so strong he only felt it right to remain as unbiased to those around the hold as he could.
Nixie's parents had none of those worries - as a Smith and his wife, they understood the need to stay with the Craft, and as the third daughter, they were merely proud to see Nixie doing so well for herself.
This was the life Gwynell was born into, five Turns later: a difficult birth surrounded by a shocking amount of Healers - six or so. Maybe more, it's a little fuzzy for Nixie and Mikael. She was the little darling of the Hall - at least until the next emergency. And that was exactly how her parents preferred it. Coo and babble to her as you like, but do your duties first, and let us raise our child. Unfortunately Gwynell was to be an only child - the difficult birth lead to complications. Nixie grieved the loss of an additional son or daughter, or multiple, but moved on. She had Gwynell, and that would be enough.
It would be expected that as an only, Gwynell would be spoiled rotten. Not so. Practical people, most Healers. So in their practical way, they loved her intensely, but taught her how that love was worth more than any pretty trinket.
Gwynell was a quiet child, for the most part. That was in part just her personality, and in part due to the aftereffects of her birth complications: Nixie's high fever and water breaking twenty hours before labor began would, if she were on Earth now, be warning signs of Group B streptococcus, if Nixie hadn't already been found as a carrier of the illness. However, on Pern it was just seen as a difficult birth. None imagined that this long, laborious birth complete with a fever would lead to a healthy baby - but it did. Or it seemed to.
One month after she was born, when any danger of Gwynell's low birth weight seemed past (she was gaining weight quite well), she developed what seemed to be a bad cold. Not unremarkable, considering her being born in late winter. Sickness was a part of Healer Hall, and her parents dealt with it as they would any infant sick - pragmatic and practically (with a light touch of hysteria thrown in, as well, this was their child, not just one they happened to be treating). They kept her warm or cooled her down as her temperature warranted and tried to get her to eat and tried to find ways to ease her coughing and any pain. In short, what they did for everyone sick. But her coughing got worse, and worse, and her breathing became faster and faster and fainter and slower and slower by turns. Gwynell got weak, refusing to feed, unwilling to drink.
In short, it seemed she would die at least twice over the two weeks she was ill - once when she was coughing so hard that she could barely breathe, and even coughed up blood. The second time was even scarier for her parents - indeed, for most of the Hall, as their little darling had become their next emergency. Her breathing just got slower and fainter until it seemed she had slipped away - but she hadn't, rallying through the night. Gwynell emerged from her illness back down to her birthweight and had her parents been able to see, slight scarring to her lungs. But Gwynell had survived her bout of Group B streptococcus and pneumonia intact otherwise, for which the Healer Hall was ecstatic. To lose a child they had helped was a horrible thing - to have lost the child of not one, but two of their own was near inconceivable.
As she grew, Gwynell interacted well in small groups, though large ones intimidated her. She wasn't the center of her schoolmates, but nor was she shunned: she seemed to get along with everyone, no matter what, though she took no pains to do so, it just happened. Her childhood near-death experiences made her a minor celebrity in her first few years of Harper-schooling, the newcome children wanting to hear all about it. In truth, Gwynell by parts reveled in the attention that garnered her, and it made her embarrassed. Having others know her as 'the girl who nearly died' was embarrassing, even so young.
Her parents took no particular moves to stop her from doing anything, as other parents might - her breathing was not adversely affected, she could run as far and long as she wanted without problem, and didn't seem to get sick more than anyone else in the winter. The chill air did make her cough more than the others her age, but that was all. She just simply wasn't interested in the rough and tumble play many wanted to do - unless it involved make-believe.
Nixie got her interested in stories at a young age, always reading her, as did Mikael - their favorite way of taking a break with her, getting off their feet and sitting down and just being with her. No wonder she started reading by the age of three. As she moved into Harper-taught classes her love of reading - and writing - only grew.
Gwynell was making up stories about her Harper-teacher's canine at age five, and only continued to dabble in writing as she went. Took her hours to write sentences for five spelling words in her younger grades - they had to make a story, not just be random sentences! For her, writing just... was, an extension of herself taking shape and form, even if her emotions were told through characters and lyrics, not herself.
This is not to say that Gwynell spent every moment writing or reading and lost sight of the real world. No, she was a kind and caring child, eager to learn about the world around her, (except math - just couldn't make sense of math. Even as she got older, she would get complex problems wrong because 2+2=5 that day on the test!)
Luckily, she left math behind (for the most part) when she became a Junior Apprentice at Harper Hall - with her writing, even if it was generally just 'spinning yarns for no reason' and not 'serious lyrics' was enough to make her a certainty. She'd find her niche in her time at the Hall, she'd have plenty of time to make sure of that. Composing? Maybe...
Either way, that planning wasn't too much on her mind (only assuring that she got into the Hall had been). At eleven, she was much more concerned with making friends with the other Apprentices. She soon had a small core group of friends (all of five), and while they had no true definitive leader to their coterie, she would find herself taking that position the majority of the time as the Turns went by.
All six of them went through the awkwardness of adolescence together, all walking the tables within the same year, when Gwynell turned eighteen. Gwynell ending being the only one without a significant other - one girl went walking steady immediately with a fellow Apprentice, one girl fell mutually for a Journeyman, who waited for her to walk the tables herself before marrying her, another found herself with many flirtations before falling for one of the Benden Hold boys she met on her Circuit, one fell for a brown Weyrling up at Fort and the last fell head over heels for Nixie's Journeyman. Only Gwynell was alone - not that she particularly minded, aside from those boys that her friends had found, all the boys that she found attractive fell into the age old rule - taken or greenrider. Of course, not all the boys she was attracted to fell into those two categories, but even then, she was terrible at flirting, she could never figure out how to go about it. Pity, really. She had chances, and they all slipped from her grasp. At least she has her writing.
The one 'spoiling' her parents ever gave her was a feline kitten at age twelve, (Mikael had wanted to get her a canine to 'protect her from those boys', but Nixie had talked him down to a feline - which she knew would ignore most goings on unless it suited his needs or he felt Gwynell was in true danger). Gwynell loves her Halbert, her Hal, despite the fact that the brute still occasionally tries to have her carry him - she can do it, it's just difficult, as he’s so large.
Gwynell was happy to walk the tables as did all of her friends within the same Turn; she was 18. Her first Circuit was uneventful, for the most part – sure, she had her share of avoiding Dusters and muggers along her route, but nothing she couldn't handle, or Halbert couldn't handle. An arrow held at one's face or a snarling feline ready to go after your throat will stop most muggers. Her second Circuit at 21 wasn’t so much a Circuit as a permanent position at a Tillek minor hold, teaching the children of the hold. That was much more relaxed, and she enjoyed it. Though she would be happy just living at Harper Hall, or Healer Hall with her parents and writing the rest of her days, she was perfectly happy teaching the children. She’s been teaching there for the past three Turns. Only recently was she requested to go to a new position at Warden. She was hesitant, wary of what it might entail. Still, she accepted the position (more because it was hinted that she wasn’t precisely being requested to do so, but ordered). All the other Journeymen and women that had been offered the job, the chance to teach the non-violent prisoners so that if they ever merited their freedom they could be responsible members of society. All the others had refused; the Masters were fed up with it by the time they 'asked' Gwynell. She's not about to be stripped of her rank just because she refuses to do something, so she went, quasi-willingly.
Other stuff: Good at archery (7/10 to bulleye, all the rest at least hit target), decent at hand to hand. PB is Kirsten Dunst
Pets
Name: Halbert (Hal, Bert, Furball, Furface, Big Brute)
Species: feline
Age: 12 Turns
Appearance: Large kitty-cat, 22 inches at shoulder, faded black spots 2-3cm across scattered heavily over a golden-beige hide. Ears are triangular, all black on back, with beige inners. Tail is long, more than half the length of his total body length and thickly furred, ending in stripes much like the ones that run down his legs and down his spine from his neck to tail. The stripes are a more distinct black against his golden hide than the spots that are on his sides. Body, for all appearances, is lithe and thin, with a deep chest and small waist. His head is fairly small for his body, with large golden-amber eyes, black ‘tearmarks’ lead down his comparatively short muzzle to his mouth, bypassing his black nose. Other black stripes and spots line his face, with a black ‘necklace’ or two around his neck. His fur is thick, soft, slightly wiry. He doesn’t quite have a two-layer coat, but he is fully capable of dealing with the snow. The inside of his right hind-leg is marred with a patch of Harper-blue in the shorter fur there – it marks out a rough quill shape, that if one squints takes on the appearance of a word, ‘GWYNELL’, though faded and stretched with time, animal growth and fur.
Personality: Hal is... unique among felines, more doglike in his temper, at least when he’s in a good mood. He does, and can, put the cat in catty, however. Do not get on his bad side, unless one likes sharp teeth and claws sinking into one’s flesh. Generally easy going, unless he or His are in danger, or he feels they are. Can be a complete goofball, or greedy, when it comes to food, but more than anything, wants to make sure She is happy, and is not above using any means necessary to get Her that way. Had found a large guilty pleasure in stealing the fish off of the docks for the time they were at Tillek, becoming not quite a full time nuisance, but one that the fishermen watched out for, as he had been known to team up with firelizards to get at the fresh catch.
Willoth
Name: Willoth
Color: Gray (999999)
Age: Newborn
Appearance: Willoth is large for a gray, a fact which matches him in size with some of the smaller greens. Large framed by nature, he's wider than most other grays, and more muscular, a fact that will allow him to carry passengers, though it'll slow him down in flight. He's not quick, but he's extremely agile, able to pull off impressive stunts. He'll lose that ability if his rider doesn't watch his food intake, though. Willoth likes to eat and will show a tendency to gain extra weight.
Personality: Willoth is a dragon determined to live his life to the fullest. If he were human, he'd be all for wine, women, and song. As a dragon, he settles for the the latter two. Music, in particular, fills him with joy. It will always sadden him that Warden's Weyr has few harpers. Those few that are at the Weyr can expected to be pestered and Willoth himself will often join in; his crooning is high, sweet, and pitch perfect. He'll happily entertain others with his 'singing', Willoth loves company, and does his best to surround himself with like minded companions at all times. Easy going and good natured when he's not in a temper, it's not hard for him to collect friends.
By nature, Willoth is a lazy dragon, but, with proper motivation, he may just be the hardest worker in his clutch. Willoth has a fantastic work ethic, and once he's decided to do something, he'll move Pern itself to get the job in question done. He never starts something he doesn't plan to finish, and finish well. It's getting him started that's difficult. Willoth doesn't work for nothing, and 'the good of the Weyr' has no effect on him whatsoever. No, Willoth works for reward, whether it be a song, a shiny trinket (he's inherited his mother's fondness, there) or a promise of new, dyed riding straps. After all, he likes to look his best.
Yes, once a bargain is made, Willoth is a dragon to count on. Provided, that is, that the bargain maker keeps up their side of things as well. Willoth has a vicious, violent temper and nothing brings it to the fore faster than someone backing out on a deal. Willoth isn't the sort to yell or snap, though. No, this little gray likes his revenge served cold. He'll chew up another dragon's favorite flight straps, destroy their rider's things, or even attempt to destroy their relationships with whoever they might be close to. He has an uncanny knack for knowing what others value most, and that's where he attacks. In addition to his hatred of 'traitors' as he calls them, Willoth can't abide thieves. He'll look down on those among his clutchmates who choose thieves, and woe be anyone who takes something of his.
As a gray, Willoth is, of course, on the smaller side. This doesn't bother him. His hide, however, does. This is a dragon who loves color, who's drawn to bright, flashing things. The fact that he doesn't have any color of his own is a disappointment, a deficiency he'll seek to rectify. Willoth wants bright, flashy riding straps. He wants shiny trinkets to wear. And he wants his poor rider to dress to match. He won't nag. Willoth isn't a nagger. He'll just withhold work until he gets his way.
