Post by leanansidhe on Feb 23, 2011 21:17:01 GMT -5
S’ro
Name: S’ro (Serro)
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Prisoner: No
Craft/Rank: Informal Farmercraft; Weyrling
Appearance: S’ro is a tall man who habitually slouches and speaks softly, just in case he inadvertently looms. His growth has come in a shocking spurt later in his teens; up until recently he was the runt of his family, puttering along at an average height. Over the last two Turns, however, he’s grown nearly a foot, tapering slowly out to his current six feet, six inches. He rolls his shoulders forward, tucks his chin, and in general tries not to appear threatening.
He still hasn’t completely filled out, leaving him with a slightly stretched, gangly appearance. Sometimes, he seems to be all long limbs, huge hands and feet, and can’t even get out of his own way. His coordination is starting to improve, but there’s a lot of himself for him to keep track of. Though he was always strong enough, it was nothing compared to the intense physical training he’s undertaken since Weyrlinghood, and his level of fitness, and musculature, has soared. He’s still more slender than bulky looking, if only because his height draws the eye vertically, but he’s got the heft that comes naturally with the height. S’ro is just big, taking up a lot of room no matter how one looks at it.
Short, coarse black hair without much to recommend it; brown eyes above a large, straight nose and thin lips make his face naturally inclined to dour expressions. He rarely takes advantage of that predisposition; it’s far more usual to see him grinning when off duty, or with a rather bovine look of neutrality when he’s on. His face is roughly diamond shaped, large ears sticking slightly out and making his face look wide. Any regularly exposed skin has passed the golden shade of tan and is workings its way through the bronzes.
Personality:
S’ro is not a liar. He may… embellish. He might tweak. He may bluff, and polish, stretch the truth and fudge the facts. If pressed, he may, in fact, fib. He may report events that did not, in any technical sense, happen. But that’s not a lie. He’d be shocked and hurt if anyone accused him of actually lying.
Mostly, it’s the details; little things that can make a story more interesting, or tweak the mood of all that follows. An extra word, or an omitted one; a flicker of expression over someone’s face that you can’t prove either way. He rarely even thinks of it, anymore; a pesky little bad habit that, if called on, he considers no worse than biting ones nails. He could stop; he could give it up any time he liked. It’s absolutely not a small, rebellious spark that he’s kept otherwise well hidden. It’s just a quirk… Everyone’s got those, don’t they?
S’ro is more or less used to no one giving two shakes of a dragon’s tail what he thinks, needs, or desires. He expects little from others in that respect; he is not demanding. Meekly accepting of authority, he has the patience of a domesticated herdbeast and, to someone meeting him while in the performance of his duties, the apparent intelligence of the same. He can be extraordinarily obstinate, absolutely close minded while obeying orders—save for his still unfortunate tendency to look people in the eyes and very calmly, mildly lie to them. He is good at denying his own whims; swallowing his thoughts, input, feelings. Sometimes, it feels like he’s literally doing that; he almost always ends the day with a stomach ache that no changing of his diet can cure. If he doesn’t give himself an ulcer by forty, it means he’ll have learned a better outlet for his frustrations.
When on his own time (if there is such a thing—as the saying goes, Weyrlings hear of such a creature, but have yet to see it,) the change can be significant. Though almost always doing all his living inside his own head, S’ro’s walls are a lot lower during his off time; more of him shines through. S’ro’s a gentle giant with an easy laugh and a wide grin that can lend a touch of appeal to an otherwise plain face. He enjoys a joke as much as anyone, with a self-depreciating slant to his humor. He’s never at a loss for what to do in his free time; he has elaborate plans of either activities he could do, or the simple, ultimate indulgence of taking a candlemark by himself somewhere, allowing his thoughts to flow freely and relaxing the tension that builds within him like a tightly wound spring. Even if he has work that needs to be done, he values his solitude; if he can’t have a candlemark to his own mind for a few days, he gets cross and out of sorts. He feared Impression would ruin that for him forever.
S’ro might accept any ill treatment from a superior with outward impassivity (and an inward churning in his stomach), but he doesn’t take that from equals. Admittedly, his experience with scrapes of that kind is limited; his humor and a distinct disinclination to be around people he finds unpleasant means that he has made few enemies. Like most growing boys, though, he’s taken beatings and handed them out, and has proven a fairly good loser, and a better winner.
History:
The farms around High Reaches are far from the most fertile. The ground is rocky, the topsoil is thin, and the growing season is short. Like all farms, the more hands, the better.
Serro was the fourth of six children; his childhood was unremarkable. His mother was an old hand at child rearing, and he had elder brothers that alternately helped and bullied him. He cannot remember a time when he did not have any chores at all; he was put to ever increasing work from the time he could walk, and help his mother carry light things.
There was nothing malicious about his upbringing; there were a lot of children, everyone had work to do, and his family didn’t have time to indulge his whims, or even to break it to him gently. If his parents were more often harsh than sensitive, cold than affectionate, irritated than understanding, they were still doing the best they could for their family. He learned not to talk back, not to shirk his work, and not to disobey. There were a few beatings mixed in, but what really taught him to behave was the coldness his family could show to those who hadn’t fulfilled their obligations. They were not an incredibly well off family; there wasn’t room for any member who couldn’t pull their weight. Do things well, or get out.
Serro did, in fact, end up getting out at age thirteen, but not because he did things poorly. He was Searched to High Reaches Weyr.
Despite a complete change in scene, it was quite awhile before he began to “thaw” and make friends, his walls coming down from the impassivity that he had adopted. Still, he must not have made much of an impression (pun intended) on the CandidateMaster, because after several hatchings where he stood still, willing a dragon to him and getting turned down cold each time, he was given away to Warden Weyr, along with the eggs that the Weyrs were all throwing together to send to the newest Weyr.
Other stuff:
Name: Shuith
Age: 7 months
Sex: Male
Color: Blue
Appearance: If any Pernese dragon could ever appear to be a Chinese dragon, it would be Shuith. Long and slender even for a blue, Shuith's hide is cobalt with a lighter, almost seafoam colored splashes covering his face and down his throat. If one looked closely enough, they would see the pattern is actually hundreds of thousands of dots, a great multitude of oddly colored freckles scattered along the delicately-boned dragons front. Shuith is a very thindragon, small and long, and with his size, he does not have a great amount of stamina. He can make up for it with notoriously difficult aerial manuvers, twists, and turns.
Personality: It's a sharding good thing S'ro has a sense of humor with this blue boy; Shuith has a personality so large and sarcastic it could down a large white whale with a single pinprick! Whereas His is outwardly cool and obediant, Shuith has no problem throwing in a smarmy retort to any he sees as condescending, or interjecting a less then appropriate comment if he feels the situation calls for it. Cheeky? Rude? Maybe a little bit, but if His isn't going to put people in their places, someone has to.
Shuith sees himself as some sort of balancing tool for S'ro, frankly. S'ro swallows his words, he lashes out only through his lies, and, sadly, takes it like a low ranking drudge from his superiors when it comes time to be disciplined. Shuith does not. No, no, the little serpant, he gets himself some revenge, especially if the person/Wher/dragon was messing with His S'ro. Quick to find insult in a persons words, Shuith is even faster to start formulating a proper injury to happen to the person. Maybe their riding straps are found with holes in them, their oils gone. Oh, no - was that their favorite tunic? Their dragon just fell off of that perfectly flat surface. His does not need to dirty his hands - that's what he has his Shuith for.
Flighty even for a dragon, Shuith is quick to let bygones be bygones (once he's extracted his vengenace, of course!). Plans and lists escape him as a tool of getting things done, the mood-changing Blue preferring to let His do the thinking and plotting. Shuith would much rather be doing things, not just talking about them or, shards, writing them down. He knows just what it is he'll be doing, same as S'ro, but that doesn't mean plans don't happen to be flexible. Of course they're flexible - as long as you agree that what Shuith or S'ro wants are the most important desires.
The blue isn't all snarky comebacks and spite, a blessing for the Weyr in general. Even with his volatile moods, Shuith finds great pleasure in the more 'simple' parts of life. While His enjoys quiet time, alone and undisturbed, Shuith finds solace in the skies. He'd dip and turn, twisting along the sky and shoreline all day if he had the stamina for it, keeping his thoughts to himself as S'ro can do the same. He treasures the freedom the sky grants him, and the fact he had the good taste to be hatched before that prisoner-laden clutch.
On the note of the prisoners, and Warden's in general, Shuith is very supportive. People who do bad things should be punished, of course! Maybe that shouldn't include being locked up forever, but that is why he and His are there. If Shuith feels a prisoner is interesting enough, what's wrong with talking to them? Maybe they would be good for His! Maybe not. As long as they aren't going to cause harm, they may bask in his glory! And if they do cause harm, they get to learn just why they shouldn't irritate dragons, even if they can't hurt humans.
Why Me: 'Shui' means 'water' - this boy is very much like the sea, roiling with emotions and unwavering when he decides to wreck havoc. S'ro is one of those 'still water runs deep' sort of guys. Inside the quiet lays something not everyone sees, and Shuith very much enjoys that fact. If S'ro were the loud-talking sort who would bite back when others pressed him, he could've fit with one of those other dragons. In him, Shuith has an opportunity to use his (sharp) wit to the extent it probably shouldn't be, and be some sort of stres relief, although those ulcers may not fade just because his dragon insults someone for him. S'ro gets from Shuith a dedicated partner that very much cares for what he says and thinks, someone who will put forth the effort to know the quiet man as he goes through life. He will still have his 'alone' time, the solitude that both enjoy in their own ways, S'ro on the ground and Shuith in the sky. Shuith's chatter may be able to help S'ro's lies, and S'ro will be able to keep Shuith from telling off important people at bad times.
