Post by jack on Mar 16, 2009 19:32:04 GMT -5
Name: Durian
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Location: Dalibor Weyr
Rank: Candidate
Personality: Durian truly is a street rat. She’s wily and cunning, and does whatever it takes to survive. Having had a hard life, she knows when its time to be hard back, and can stand her ground against anything, but still know when to run for her life. She has an iron will and a clear stare, and won’t back down from a situation she knows she can win. A bit like a starving dog, once she sinks her teeth into something, she never lets go.
Intensely loyal, Durian will protect her friends to the death, but if they die first, she won’t stay around to wreck vengeance. Her periods of mourning are short, as she has learned the hard lesson of moving on, or dying. She is an insanely good actress, and can play the part of a spoiled noble down to a foot-shy drudge easily. Whether this is from continuous practice or natural talent is a mystery, all she knows is she can do it and she will do it to get further in life.
While Durian’s main concerns are today, her thoughts are just as often on tomorrow, planning and scheming what she and hers can do to get further in life. While living Holdless, her dreams were to get herself and her little gaggle of misfits onto the social rung, and not just under their feet. A natural leader, Durian can take charge when need be, but will follow leadership just as easily. If she does not agree with something, however, she will certainly point it out. Where she came from, even a minor detail on paper or in the mind can be the survive or die line.
Appearance: A very vibrant young woman, Durian can easily be mistaken for a boy. She’s a bit lanky for a girl, and has a completely flat chest. The fact that she tends to run around with incredibly short hair doesn’t help, and more often than not she’s snatched up as she’s darting around and offered an eighth of a mark if she’ll do a lad’s task. Her eyes are naturally a very bright green and always gleaming, more often with mischief and a wide-grin than anything else.
She dresses in a wide-variey of things—whatever she can get her hands on—but practically abhors dresses. If she can avoid wearing a dress or a skirt, you know she will But if she’s forced to wear a skirt, she wears rolled up trousers beneath it. Durian doesn’t have too much of a sense of girl-boyness, and is just as well-known to strip down to near nothing and roll around in the dirt as her male companions. She loves to swim and does so often, although one of her gang finally convinced her to at least wrap her chest, although she still hasn’t figured out completely why. As far as she’s concerned, that’s only for girls who actually have breasts, and she doesn’t.
Ninety-percent of the day, Durian is covered in dirt of some sort, although she could stay perfectly clean should she choose to. She has gotten ahold of many wigs in her years—stealing, no doubt—and dons them when doing her various rounds through the Gathers and Halls. Her favorites are a reddish one with pigtails, and a noble’s-daughter blond with elegant curls. Along with the clothing she’s stored away in her infamous—bottomless—trunk, she has quite a variety of finery and different trade-outfits, making her disguises perfect.
Family:
Father: Darin(Deceased)
Mother: Shua(Deceased)
Older Brother: Ridsh
Younger Sister: Jipper
Pets:
Name: Reggae
Type: Firelizard
Color: Pink
Age: 3 Turns
Durian’s constant companion and best friend, Reggae is a sweet-natured sweetheart who spends most of her day wrapped around her bonded’s arm or neck, chattering away in her sweet, rhythmic voice. She has a great sense of beat and loves to cohort Durian into singing, enjoying the street-rat’s soft voice. Reggae is oddly protective for a Pink, and will vocally stand up for her Durian even against a Queen, although she’ll quickly cower behind Durian’s shoulder should the Queen look her way.
History: Durian was born in the Harper Hall on a warm spring evening to the sound of glorious singing. A group of dragonriders were lurking in the Main Hall after the day’s Gather, listening to the unmatchable music of the Harper Masters while they waited for the Holders and Masters they were to escort home to finish their day. Durian’s mother always said it was the singing all around them that gave her daughter her beautiful voice, which only flourished as she got older.
Her father was a Master in singing and his mother a Journeyman known for their duet, as there were few voices which matched so perfectly together as theirs. Their eldest son was musically inclined as well, his deft fingers playing through even the most complicated of gitar songs with ease. 15 years older than Durian, Ridsh was her idol, and as she grew older, she was usually found tailing her older brother everywhere, even places that children were not often permitted.
When Durian was almost 5, Ridsh was taken away from the Hall to become a Candidate, a Blue having searched him out while he was playing an old song during a Gather. He left, and Durian’s family moved to a hold closer to the Weyr, a small hold famous for its unusually broad-chested herdbeasts. Durian became fascinated with the beasts and spent a good deal sitting on the fences, simply watching them as they went about their days.
The hold’s senior herder often would come and stand beside her, leaning against the fence as he told idle stories about his adventures with the beasts, and answered any question she had about them—which was quite a lot. Durian was quite happy there, and her parents were as well. When she was seven her younger sister was born, but the poor girl never made it to her first turn.
While Durian was out with the herdbeasts, absently riding around on the old bull—which due to a full turn and a half of constant treat-giving had become quite fond of Durian—when a kitchen fire got out of hand. It spread faster than anyone could stop it, and caught into the storerooms. The smoke filled the Hold far faster than the fire, and by the time Durian turned and noticed smoke billowing out of her home and urged the herdbeast to barrel back, her family was long dead. The herder too had perished, as had many other members of the hold. The ones who survived had no time to help consol the little girl, and she was forced to consol herself, sobbing softly into the confused herdbeast’s side.
When things finally settled down, Durian had left. She knew that without her family there, the Hold would be nothing but sad, and after loading an old trunk full of her favorite things onto the herdbeast’s back, she headed off towards the weyr. The road was long and she arrived half-starved, but at long last she stepped foot within the Weyr, only to find out her brother had been transferred to somewhere way out of her reach.
Biting her lip she turned away from the Weyr, taking nothing but a few bits of food and water before heading on her way again. The next time she stopped it was at a Gather, and while she was curiously exploring, her herdbeast was stolen. Alone and with her trunk dumped on the ground with all of its values empty, Durian figured she’d hit rock bottom. But rather than burst into tears as any girl her age had the right to, she began to laugh, and set her eyes on the Gather. The trunk was abandoned, nothing but a few bits of disregarded clothing coming with the girl as she moved on once more, taking the advice of the felon who’d taken her precious old friend.
She began to steal, her diminutive size giving her the advantage while her wide-eyed, fearful stare gave her pity. When the Gather ended she stole away in a wagon of an old trader, going with them to the next Gather. Years passed this way, with Durian growing more and more efficient in her odd little trade. What was one girl became two boys and a girl, and then three boys and a girl, and by the time she hit her eleventh birthday, she was one of many in a small group of holdless, craftless wanderers.
As if the show the dark side of Pern trained in one place, the group faced the cruelty of the humans who walked it, their ability to snatch and run often ending in being caught and beaten. Or in rarer cases, ganged up on. One such gang-bang ended in the death of one of the younger boys, who had made the mistake of picking the pocket of a drunken man. The gaggle left the Gather early that evening, all squished on the backs of three stolen herdbeasts as they headed towards a nearby Hold scheduled for a Gather in two days time.
The first death taught Durian a year’s worth of lessons, and their quick manner of stealing quickly became a crafty one, replacing nimbleness with tricky and clever. A few years passed and not much changed, wigs and outfits slipping into their routine as they played every angle from starving children—not too ar from the truth—to passing nobles with deep pockets to get what they wanted, and run away with it. Durian took over as the head of the gang of misfits, leading with a big grin and a quick mind to get each and every one of her group what they deserved—nice full bellies and soft places to sleep.
It was a system that worked, and worked well. Well enough for Durian to even acquire a fire-lizard during one of their escapades, a tiny little egg in a pot of sand she had thought maybe carried a gem. Although not entirely sure what to do with it, Durian did her best to keep it warm and safe, curious as to what would come out of this odd little egg. Imagine her surprise when what she was beginning to believe was a tiny bird turned out to be a dragon, a voracious little pink thing that ate more than she did on a daily basis. Durian had to work hard to keep the bottom-less pit full and content, but the result was worth it. Little Reggae became her constant friend, and turned out to be quite the little actress as well.
Two turns after Reggae was hatched, Durian had managed to get her little gang to the Western Hold just in time for a Gather, where their usual routine began, only to stop mid-way. A Blue—not unlike the one that had taken away her brother—was staring at Durian. Everytime she moved, he followed, walking along the outside of the Gather’s boundaries and peering through the stalls, or in some cases, sticking his head through the gaps. Durian ran, gathering up her gang and immediately moving out. Although they weren’t quite sure what was going on, neither was she. She figured that the Blue knew something bad, and would definitely tell his rider. That was unacceptable.
So the group began to move out, Durian following at the tail to secure her gang. But before they could safely make it to where they had spied a group of runners to snatch a few from, Durian found herself being lifted into the air, and screamed. “Whoa there, sweetheart. No reason to break the sound barrier.” She froze, twisting to peer up at the speaker who was easily holding her up above ground, only to see the smiling face of a man she’d never seen in her life. The big Blue was behind him, peering at her curiously, as her gang stopped as well, staring back at the dragonrider with wide eyes.
The next series of events went by in a blur. One minute Durian was the head of a gang of misfits, the next she was a Candidate, and all of her friends had been found homes and places to work where they would be safe and never go hungry. She went from a street rat who slept on the backs of stolen animals with nothing but a large trunk she—or rather six of them—had lifted off a box-maker and filled with wigs and stolen clothing and whatever nick-knacks they didn’t sell to call her own, to a Candidate with a soft bed and at least one new friend—the dragonrider who’d searched her and spent a good deal of his free time lugging her around like a sack of potatoes, to her distaste—to always depend on.
From the bottom of the world to the top, all in one fell swoop. And a turn later, after having lived her new life fo so many months, she still couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. But she was happy, and that was enough.
ooc: Heading over to the Mainstall right now to buy Reggae. P= Figured it couldn't hurt to ahead and put her on here, since..I'm buying her right now. xD;;
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Location: Dalibor Weyr
Rank: Candidate
Personality: Durian truly is a street rat. She’s wily and cunning, and does whatever it takes to survive. Having had a hard life, she knows when its time to be hard back, and can stand her ground against anything, but still know when to run for her life. She has an iron will and a clear stare, and won’t back down from a situation she knows she can win. A bit like a starving dog, once she sinks her teeth into something, she never lets go.
Intensely loyal, Durian will protect her friends to the death, but if they die first, she won’t stay around to wreck vengeance. Her periods of mourning are short, as she has learned the hard lesson of moving on, or dying. She is an insanely good actress, and can play the part of a spoiled noble down to a foot-shy drudge easily. Whether this is from continuous practice or natural talent is a mystery, all she knows is she can do it and she will do it to get further in life.
While Durian’s main concerns are today, her thoughts are just as often on tomorrow, planning and scheming what she and hers can do to get further in life. While living Holdless, her dreams were to get herself and her little gaggle of misfits onto the social rung, and not just under their feet. A natural leader, Durian can take charge when need be, but will follow leadership just as easily. If she does not agree with something, however, she will certainly point it out. Where she came from, even a minor detail on paper or in the mind can be the survive or die line.
Appearance: A very vibrant young woman, Durian can easily be mistaken for a boy. She’s a bit lanky for a girl, and has a completely flat chest. The fact that she tends to run around with incredibly short hair doesn’t help, and more often than not she’s snatched up as she’s darting around and offered an eighth of a mark if she’ll do a lad’s task. Her eyes are naturally a very bright green and always gleaming, more often with mischief and a wide-grin than anything else.
She dresses in a wide-variey of things—whatever she can get her hands on—but practically abhors dresses. If she can avoid wearing a dress or a skirt, you know she will But if she’s forced to wear a skirt, she wears rolled up trousers beneath it. Durian doesn’t have too much of a sense of girl-boyness, and is just as well-known to strip down to near nothing and roll around in the dirt as her male companions. She loves to swim and does so often, although one of her gang finally convinced her to at least wrap her chest, although she still hasn’t figured out completely why. As far as she’s concerned, that’s only for girls who actually have breasts, and she doesn’t.
Ninety-percent of the day, Durian is covered in dirt of some sort, although she could stay perfectly clean should she choose to. She has gotten ahold of many wigs in her years—stealing, no doubt—and dons them when doing her various rounds through the Gathers and Halls. Her favorites are a reddish one with pigtails, and a noble’s-daughter blond with elegant curls. Along with the clothing she’s stored away in her infamous—bottomless—trunk, she has quite a variety of finery and different trade-outfits, making her disguises perfect.
Family:
Father: Darin(Deceased)
Mother: Shua(Deceased)
Older Brother: Ridsh
Younger Sister: Jipper
Pets:
Name: Reggae
Type: Firelizard
Color: Pink
Age: 3 Turns
Durian’s constant companion and best friend, Reggae is a sweet-natured sweetheart who spends most of her day wrapped around her bonded’s arm or neck, chattering away in her sweet, rhythmic voice. She has a great sense of beat and loves to cohort Durian into singing, enjoying the street-rat’s soft voice. Reggae is oddly protective for a Pink, and will vocally stand up for her Durian even against a Queen, although she’ll quickly cower behind Durian’s shoulder should the Queen look her way.
History: Durian was born in the Harper Hall on a warm spring evening to the sound of glorious singing. A group of dragonriders were lurking in the Main Hall after the day’s Gather, listening to the unmatchable music of the Harper Masters while they waited for the Holders and Masters they were to escort home to finish their day. Durian’s mother always said it was the singing all around them that gave her daughter her beautiful voice, which only flourished as she got older.
Her father was a Master in singing and his mother a Journeyman known for their duet, as there were few voices which matched so perfectly together as theirs. Their eldest son was musically inclined as well, his deft fingers playing through even the most complicated of gitar songs with ease. 15 years older than Durian, Ridsh was her idol, and as she grew older, she was usually found tailing her older brother everywhere, even places that children were not often permitted.
When Durian was almost 5, Ridsh was taken away from the Hall to become a Candidate, a Blue having searched him out while he was playing an old song during a Gather. He left, and Durian’s family moved to a hold closer to the Weyr, a small hold famous for its unusually broad-chested herdbeasts. Durian became fascinated with the beasts and spent a good deal sitting on the fences, simply watching them as they went about their days.
The hold’s senior herder often would come and stand beside her, leaning against the fence as he told idle stories about his adventures with the beasts, and answered any question she had about them—which was quite a lot. Durian was quite happy there, and her parents were as well. When she was seven her younger sister was born, but the poor girl never made it to her first turn.
While Durian was out with the herdbeasts, absently riding around on the old bull—which due to a full turn and a half of constant treat-giving had become quite fond of Durian—when a kitchen fire got out of hand. It spread faster than anyone could stop it, and caught into the storerooms. The smoke filled the Hold far faster than the fire, and by the time Durian turned and noticed smoke billowing out of her home and urged the herdbeast to barrel back, her family was long dead. The herder too had perished, as had many other members of the hold. The ones who survived had no time to help consol the little girl, and she was forced to consol herself, sobbing softly into the confused herdbeast’s side.
When things finally settled down, Durian had left. She knew that without her family there, the Hold would be nothing but sad, and after loading an old trunk full of her favorite things onto the herdbeast’s back, she headed off towards the weyr. The road was long and she arrived half-starved, but at long last she stepped foot within the Weyr, only to find out her brother had been transferred to somewhere way out of her reach.
Biting her lip she turned away from the Weyr, taking nothing but a few bits of food and water before heading on her way again. The next time she stopped it was at a Gather, and while she was curiously exploring, her herdbeast was stolen. Alone and with her trunk dumped on the ground with all of its values empty, Durian figured she’d hit rock bottom. But rather than burst into tears as any girl her age had the right to, she began to laugh, and set her eyes on the Gather. The trunk was abandoned, nothing but a few bits of disregarded clothing coming with the girl as she moved on once more, taking the advice of the felon who’d taken her precious old friend.
She began to steal, her diminutive size giving her the advantage while her wide-eyed, fearful stare gave her pity. When the Gather ended she stole away in a wagon of an old trader, going with them to the next Gather. Years passed this way, with Durian growing more and more efficient in her odd little trade. What was one girl became two boys and a girl, and then three boys and a girl, and by the time she hit her eleventh birthday, she was one of many in a small group of holdless, craftless wanderers.
As if the show the dark side of Pern trained in one place, the group faced the cruelty of the humans who walked it, their ability to snatch and run often ending in being caught and beaten. Or in rarer cases, ganged up on. One such gang-bang ended in the death of one of the younger boys, who had made the mistake of picking the pocket of a drunken man. The gaggle left the Gather early that evening, all squished on the backs of three stolen herdbeasts as they headed towards a nearby Hold scheduled for a Gather in two days time.
The first death taught Durian a year’s worth of lessons, and their quick manner of stealing quickly became a crafty one, replacing nimbleness with tricky and clever. A few years passed and not much changed, wigs and outfits slipping into their routine as they played every angle from starving children—not too ar from the truth—to passing nobles with deep pockets to get what they wanted, and run away with it. Durian took over as the head of the gang of misfits, leading with a big grin and a quick mind to get each and every one of her group what they deserved—nice full bellies and soft places to sleep.
It was a system that worked, and worked well. Well enough for Durian to even acquire a fire-lizard during one of their escapades, a tiny little egg in a pot of sand she had thought maybe carried a gem. Although not entirely sure what to do with it, Durian did her best to keep it warm and safe, curious as to what would come out of this odd little egg. Imagine her surprise when what she was beginning to believe was a tiny bird turned out to be a dragon, a voracious little pink thing that ate more than she did on a daily basis. Durian had to work hard to keep the bottom-less pit full and content, but the result was worth it. Little Reggae became her constant friend, and turned out to be quite the little actress as well.
Two turns after Reggae was hatched, Durian had managed to get her little gang to the Western Hold just in time for a Gather, where their usual routine began, only to stop mid-way. A Blue—not unlike the one that had taken away her brother—was staring at Durian. Everytime she moved, he followed, walking along the outside of the Gather’s boundaries and peering through the stalls, or in some cases, sticking his head through the gaps. Durian ran, gathering up her gang and immediately moving out. Although they weren’t quite sure what was going on, neither was she. She figured that the Blue knew something bad, and would definitely tell his rider. That was unacceptable.
So the group began to move out, Durian following at the tail to secure her gang. But before they could safely make it to where they had spied a group of runners to snatch a few from, Durian found herself being lifted into the air, and screamed. “Whoa there, sweetheart. No reason to break the sound barrier.” She froze, twisting to peer up at the speaker who was easily holding her up above ground, only to see the smiling face of a man she’d never seen in her life. The big Blue was behind him, peering at her curiously, as her gang stopped as well, staring back at the dragonrider with wide eyes.
The next series of events went by in a blur. One minute Durian was the head of a gang of misfits, the next she was a Candidate, and all of her friends had been found homes and places to work where they would be safe and never go hungry. She went from a street rat who slept on the backs of stolen animals with nothing but a large trunk she—or rather six of them—had lifted off a box-maker and filled with wigs and stolen clothing and whatever nick-knacks they didn’t sell to call her own, to a Candidate with a soft bed and at least one new friend—the dragonrider who’d searched her and spent a good deal of his free time lugging her around like a sack of potatoes, to her distaste—to always depend on.
From the bottom of the world to the top, all in one fell swoop. And a turn later, after having lived her new life fo so many months, she still couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. But she was happy, and that was enough.
ooc: Heading over to the Mainstall right now to buy Reggae. P= Figured it couldn't hurt to ahead and put her on here, since..I'm buying her right now. xD;;
