Post by tuathade on Jul 21, 2011 17:53:28 GMT -5
Gerren
Name: Gerren
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Prisoner: Yes, but not an outlaw
Crime: Theft and Dust possession. (Also murder, assault, Dust distribution, Dust manufacture, and arson. But he only got caught on the theft.)
Craft/Rank: Journeyman glasscrafter... sort of
Appearance: Gerren is six foot even, tall enough to possibly qualify as “tall, dark, and handsome”... Well. Handsome is in the eye of the beholder, and Dust takes its toll. A lean runner’s build edges more towards ‘gaunt’ as an appropriate adjective these days, although he still has enough sinewy muscle on him to work – and work hard he does. No room for slackers at Warden’s, and Gerren’s aim is to make himself useful and get out as soon as possible.
Gerren is naturally fair, but not unhealthily pallid; it’s impossible to completely avoid the sun at Southern, and there is a tint of tan to his complexion. Likewise, prior to his arrival at Warden’s his hair was shoulder-length and so black it was almost bluish in sheen; now it’s a short straight mop of maybe half an inch, and touched in places with the faintest hint of antique gold from sun-bleaching. His eyes are jet black, deep-set and hooded under delicately arched brows. There is a slightly unnerving intensity to his gaze, especially when paired with the sharpness of the rest of his features – prominent cheekbones in a narrow face give the criminal a haunted look.
But if there is one thing that Gerren does well, it is hiding his true nature. He is an expert at hiding behind a mask, and it’s amazing how a shy smile and a little self-conscious hunch to the posture can completely change his appearance. Body language is everything… He’s used it to charm or intimidate in the past, but now he uses it to masquerade as just another pathetic Duster among Warden’s population.
Personality: There is no outward indication that Gerren is even remotely dangerous. He is polite. He doesn’t cuss. His voice is soft, steady, even. He approaches situations with a thoughtful, reasonable air. Even if another prisoner or guard should taunt or attempt to draw a reaction out of him, Gerren simply averts his eyes and lets it wash over him without response. He isn’t shy or socially withdrawn – he’s perfectly capable of expressing himself – but he is aloof. This could be mistaken for passivity or even pacifism. In reality, it’s raging narcissism. The rest of Warden’s prisoners are filth beneath his notice, and their actions simply do not matter. Why should a dragon care about a trundlebug?
Not that he would compare himself, even mentally, to a dragon. Gerren hates dragons, to be honest. Flits are fine. Flits are useful, even necessary. And whers are big stupid brutes fit only for guarding, so they can be forgiven for their faults. But dragons… They make Gerren uneasy. Especially Searchdragons. And he makes them uneasy in turn – perhaps because they can sense the awful wrongness in his head. And that’s not okay with Gerren; that’s his secret, it doesn’t belong to them, and dragons are Not Welcome inside his thoughts. He will attend Hatchings, but he will politely but firmly refuse to Stand… and honestly? Even if an atypical came his way, he would probably send the poor thing between with an overwhelming wave of hatred.
Gerren is calculating, avaricious, and unrelenting. Everything is planned. Anyone who thinks that crime is the easy way out, as opposed to honest hard working folks, has never seen Gerren at work on his latest scheme – whether it’s a new smuggling method or a particularly intricate bit of glasswork for a new refining technique. Call him self-obsessed, call him ruthless and monstrous and misanthropic… But never call him lazy. What’s more, the man is patient. Once he’s decided he wants something, it doesn’t matter if it takes days or Turns. It will belong to him. He will make it happen.
Sometimes, in service of his greater goals, it’s necessary to gain other people’s trust. Gerren is good at that. It helps that he tends to come across as sweet and nonthreatening – then on top of that, he pretends to be your friend, with tremendous patience. For Turns, if he has to. He's even been known to watch out for his best customers, do little favors for them; anything that keeps them alive a little longer and keeps the marks coming in. Dust addicts, sadly, don't tend to live long - this is a fact that Gerren knows to be true, which leads to a curious piece of mental dissonance. On any given day, the unstable young man will be in denial about either his status as an addict himself, or the probability that it will eventually kill him. He's not like the weak-willed scum of the earth who buy his products. He knows the Dust. He understands it, inside and out, and he won't be stupid enough to let an overdose take him out. Of course not. Besides, it's really not any of your business.
But Gerren isn't a Machi or a Jiruyno. No, he's not one of the big dogs at the prison - it's really not his style. He doesn't consider himself a serial killer. He's a businessman, first and foremost. He just happens to be willing to kill people who get in his way, or know too much, or get between him and something he wants. But there's always a reason why (in Gerren's mind) every murder was necessary. He doesn't kill for the fun of it. That's part of why he took no part in the escape - there was no reason for him to, he had nothing to gain from it. He's in Warden's for nonviolent crimes, his behavior is impeccable, and he fully expects to be out in four years and back doing business. By that time, Caroline will be dead, slaughtered by the outlaws she so foolishly chose to run away with. And he'll have a Lord Holder friend to vouch for him.
They'll see, in the end. Everything is still going according to plan.
History: Gerren was born at Telgar Weyr, to a drudge and a Flight-addled male rider – he has no idea who, or what color. His father was never a part of his life. His mother was, briefly; she was unwilling to either go between or give up the newborn child. So instead she kept him, for as long as she could. But shortly after her child turned five, she changed her mind. It was too difficult to care for a child and balance her Weyr duties, and on top of that after another Flight she was once again with child. The desperate young woman, unsure of what to do, decided to give her child to the Hold’s crèche to take care of. They took him willingly enough. Gerren was a quiet child, never troublesome or belligerent. There was no indication, this early on, of what he would grow up to become.
Hold life was… very different. He apprenticed to a glasscrafter at a young age, as the intricacy and demands of the craft appealed well to his intense, almost perfectionist tendencies. He wasn’t the most social of children; the son of a drudge with nothing to his name living at Telgar Hold, the richest hold on Pern, he was acutely aware of everything he lacked. Family, wealth, connections – Gerren was surrounded by those who had everything he wanted. People who were just born with it, by no effort of their own, but simply because they happened to have the right parents. Every Turn the traders came by with new exotic riches from all over Pern… and Gerren would watch them come and go. Someday, he decided, he would have everything he wanted. He threw himself into his work with renewed enthusiasm.
When he was 12 or 13 Turns old, he befriended another boy close to his age, Warine. The boy’s parents, Warahe and Darine, were fond of Gerren. Perhaps they sensed that he was in need of someone to reach out to him… He was never formally fostered, but they treated him as something of a third child. In a sense he was the Harry Potter to their Weasley family. For Turns he worked at his craft, excelled, grew closer and closer to walking the tables… and he spent his free time at their house, or with Warine or Rinah. Gradually, over time, his feelings for Warine became more than just friendly. It wasn’t love, precisely – and it wasn’t healthy. It was an obsessive crush. Not that Warine, or anyone, ever knew… The teenage boy wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he wanted it bad.
And then Caroline showed up. This little twelve-Turn-old girl, fostered to the family that Gerren thought of as his. And Warahe and Darine were never unkind, they never chased him away… But it began to be more obvious, that it was a little weird for this lonely eighteen-Turn-old to be hanging around their kids all the time. He was always welcome. Always welcome. But it wasn’t the same. They had a proper foster child now, and Gerren was more or less an adult – time for him to move on, on his own.
And that was when Gerren started hating Caroline. Her first act in his life was to steal his most precious possession.
He never showed it overtly, of course. He continued to hang around the family, more-or-less stalking Warine. Caroline must have noticed, because she took an interest in him. Even as he internally loathed the girl, outwardly he kept a polite and even friendly demeanor. He had to be nice to her. She had a crush on him, he could tell, and it disgusted him… But he went along with everything she said, looked after her when she hared off on wild adventures. He wouldn’t break his last connection the family he’d lost by letting their new daughter get hurt on his watch. Besides, somewhere in the back of his mind he was already plotting vengeance – a slower and more brutal vengeance than letting her get eaten by a wild wher.
It was around that time that a new customer started showing up at the glasscrafters’. A Healer, who kept asking for odd and fiddly bits of glassware. Flasks, vials, tubes, valves, syringes… All standard Healer equipment, of course. Other things the man asked for were less standard. Custom equipment for a ‘project’. This project, of course, was Dust. And the instant Gerren found out, he gave the Healer a choice: cut him in as an equal partner, fifty-fifty… or Gerren would go to the Watch. The Healer complied, reluctantly.
The two of them together were a neat team. Gerren wasn’t a Healer, but the process was simple enough once he got the hang of it. And Gerren’s affinity for his craft meant that they had the best equipment possible. No cheap jury-rigged Dust lab for them; no, they were making the good shit. The expensive stuff, the kind you sell to the customers who pay you real money. Oh, they sold to dying back-alley addicts, too… but they cut it with cheaper poisons. It was a business, and a fantastic one. Their system worked perfectly. If anything, it worked too well.
Somewhere during this time, Gerren made the acquaintance of Heston, the Lord Holder’s heir. It was entirely by accident. The boy was attacked by a wild wher, and Gerren – in Caroline’s company – helped rescue him. In return, he was permitted to go the the Weyr and observe a Hatching. It was… not a pleasant experience. He liked that now he had a connection to the Lord Holder. He didn’t like being reminded of where he’d come from, and of the loose, libertine Weyr morals that had been his origin. He especially didn’t like the dragons. Stupid sharding telepathic lizards flying everywhere. As soon as it was over, he threw himself back into the Dust with renewed enthusiasm.
Over the next five Turns, Gerren made myriad small improvements on the Dust ring system, produced neater tools… and eventually made himself obsolete. The Healer decided that he could run the Dust ring on his own and still make a profit, using Gerren’s ideas. The glasscrafter – now a fully-fledged Journeyman – found himself ambushed down a back alley by half a dozen thugs and choking on an overdose of his own finest work. They beat him, left him bleeding and high as a kite. Gerren survived – barely. But the Healer took the opportunity to skip town with everything. All the money, all the supplies, all the equipment. Gone, in one day.
Worse than that, Gerren had a bigger problem. He was lucky not to be blinded by his forced Dusting… but he’d gotten a heavy dose of the highly addictive stuff. The cravings weren’t bad at first. They got worse. And worse. He could re-create the equipment, no trouble, but how was he going to get the raw fellis? He wasn’t a Healer who could just get it right from the source. He’d have to pay extra to get someone to smuggle a dangerous controlled substance to him. For that he needed marks. Marks that he didn’t have anymore.
It was in desperation that he turned to Warahe and Darine’s family. He couldn’t exactly explain the real situation to them… So he broke in with the intent of stealing some valuables. And of all the luck, Warine was the one to find him. In a panic, Gerren swung the nearest heavy object he could find without even looking to see who had ambushed him. It struck Warine’s skull with a sickening crack. Warine dropped. So did Gerren’s stomach. In a complete panic now, he paused only long enough to make sure the young man was still alive, then sought to erase the evidence. No other alternative – it was that, or let the Watch take him away forever.
It was brief, ugly, and brutal. All the anger he’d suppressed came out in that single moment of irrational violence. He killed them. He took everything of value, then burned the home. He made sure that Warine was dragged to safety, and Caroline… He made sure she was alive too, to see the rest of her family slaughtered. Gerren took her locket and hid it, keeping it for himself as a memento of Warine.
To his surprise, Rinah survived as well… and promptly testified that Caroline had been the perpetrator of the attacks. Gerren himself was pulled in as a witness. The Watchrider who interrogated him was startled when the young man broke down in front of her. Ironically, it only served to cement his case – it appeared to her like a traumatized witness horrorstruck over the brutal attack on his closest friends. She never knew that in reality, this was the last shreds of guilt that Gerren would ever feel leaving him. After that, there was nothing. Only emptiness.
Caroline was sent away to Warden’s. Warine remained alive, but never woke up. Gerren slowly but surely rebuilt his little Dust ring… this time, with himself as a customer. He hated every second of it, but detox was both hellishly difficult and far too recognizable. Anyone who came across him in withdrawal could easily tell what was wrong with him and turn him in. He had no choice but to keep taking the accursed drug. Eventually, as his physical and mental health degraded, he grew sloppier. Ironically, the Watch got him on theft and Dust possession – after one of his repeat customers assaulted him, the healer who found and patched him up also found Caroline’s locket and a small amount of Dust on his person. Enough suspicion lingered on him after the earlier trial that he, too, was sent away to Warden’s.
He arrived shortly before the prison break – brief enough that he never saw Caroline in person, but he knew she was there. Gerren deliberately stayed behind during the outlaws’ escape. All he has to do is bide his time and be patient. Ironically, Warden’s actually helped him detox. His mind is clearer than it’s been in two Turns. That’s all he needs.
Other stuff: As far as anyone at Warden’s knows, Gerren is a nonviolent prisoner. He was arrested on theft charges. He has caused not a lick of trouble since arriving at the prison. If anyone would like to be sharp enough to sense something “off” about him, that’s fine, but no one at Warden's knows he's a murderer. Except, y'know, Caroline.
Pets
Name: Simo
Species: Flit
Color: Brown
Appearance: This is a flit in severe distress. Simo used to be a large and healthy example of his color, Gerren's pride. But being bonded to a detoxing Duster, even the bond isn't as strong as a dragon's, couldn't help but take its toll. His former rich mahogany brown color has faded to a dull, patchy greyish-brown that won't shine no matter how much he's oiled. It's clear from his bone structure that Simo is a big brown, but he's underweight and oddly proportioned, ribs and hip bones palpable - if you can get him to sit still long enough to touch him. The only vivid points of color are his eyes, which seem overlarge for his skull and whirl with frenetic speed from one hue to the next. None of this is due to active abuse; Gerren tries to take care of Simo. (Not out of any real affection for the lizard, but he's a useful and necessary tool.) He's just... persistently unhealthy.
Personality: Simo is very rarely seen at Gerren's side. In fact, those who know Gerren only through casual acquaintance might not know he has a firelizard at all. The brown spends the significant majority of his time at Telgar Hold, watching over a particular coma patient by his owner's command... But every now and then he betweens back to Warden's, to eat and rest and hide from the Healers who come to tend Warine. Other times Gerren sends him on small errands outside the prison, never anything particularly obvious. Simo is very well-trained, for all his neuroses - and Simo is extremely neurotic. He stares unblinkingly at things for hours on end. He doesn't tolerate being touched. He barely eats. Simo does not bite, but if someone should attempt to give him a friendly eyeridge-scratch, he's likely to respond by screaming horribly.
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