Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on Mar 2, 2009 21:56:22 GMT -5
Name: Whinae
Gender: Female
Age: 26 Turns
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Location: Dalibor Weyr
Rank: Wherhandler
Personality:
Whinae is one of those people who just likes to fade into the background. She is somewhat shy and introverted, so she's not one to strike up a conversation just to strike up a conversation. However, she's quite willing to talk to people, as long as they take the initiative to speak first. She's extremely polite and never lets a mean word escape from her lips. Whinae is not a person to which people go to get an honest opinion about something; she has that annoying habit of always saying something positive, even if it's a white lie, when someone wants the truth.
Whinae hates conflict. She hates it even more when she's the cause of it. She's prone to simply fleeing conflict rather than fighting it or trying to resolve it. When she's not involved in a disagreement, she makes a fair mediator. Whinae is careful not to say anything that could possibly irritate or upset anyone. She has mastered the art of thinking before one speaks, and she runs everything she plans to say through her head before actually uttering anything to ensure that she doesn't accidentally let something offensive slip.
Whinae is incredibly patient. She has no temper to speak of. If someone says something that she finds offensive, she rebukes them quietly but firmly and lets the subject drop. She's quick to forgive and to forget. She doesn't make enemies easily as she believes in second (and third, and fourth, and fifth, if that's what it takes) chances, and she refuses to judge someone based on their past behavior. She's also uncommonly tolerant of all sorts of people and creatures.
The Wherhandler, while slow to make enemies, is similarily slow in forming friendships and is snail-paced in making real relationships. She doesn't trust easily. It takes a span of Turns for her to feel comfortable with someone enough to confide much anything in them. Like Whisk in some ways, Whinae is rather paranoid about sharing her secrets. However, Whinae would rather have a very small, intimate group of friends that she could trust with her life than have just a few whose loyalty she has to question sometimes.
Her lack of trust does not mean that she's not empathetic, however. Whinae is helpful, and can be trusted to drop everything and assist someone who needs it just because she was asked to. She's a compassionate person, and her heart goes out to anyone in need. When there's little going on at the Weyr, Whinae has a habit of helping out in the infirmary during the night shift.
Appearance:
Whinae is a small, slight woman. She's only 5'4'' tall, and weighs about a hundred pounds. She doesn't have much in way of curves. She has the typical lean musculature of her fellow Wherhandlers that comes from having to care for such a rambunctious creature.
Whinae is pretty in an unobtrusive, subtle way. Her features are petite, with no one that strikes as special. She is pale, as is to be expected from one that has adapted her wher's nocturnal habits. She has dark blond hair which she usually keeps pinned up behind her head. Her eyes are a sort of imperfect brown that's not quite hazel.
Family:
Mother and father were drudges in a small hold beholden to High Reaches. She has no siblings or other known relatives.
Pets:
none
History:
Whinae was born into drudgery at a minor hold that was beholden to High Reaches Weyr. A relatively shy child, she had no problem with being a nobody. She did her work honestly and without complaint, earning her the respect of her fellows, if no promotions. She had friends, but she could never work up the courage to find anything more than that. Few people outside of the drudges even knew who Whinae was. She never caused the least stir, never the slightest problem, and she wanted to keep it that way. She wasn't one to look for glory or trouble.
One night, a band of raiders managed to run off with the Hold's few treasures, killing the ruling Lord and Lady Holders in the process. The new Lord, the couple's only son, immediately sent a message to High Reaches, asking for a few wher eggs. He wanted the whers bonded and raised at his Hold to prevent such a tragedy from occuring again. High Reaches obliged, and the next time its Queen wher clutched, they sent five wher eggs to the Hold.
The young Lord Holder quickly gathered up some young guards to be the wher Candidates. The guards were briefed on whers and told to blood themselves for any hatchling wher. The wher eggs were carefully guarded in the Lord Holder's room, perfectly tended by one of the Hold Healers, whose Gold firelizard had taught her how to care for clutches. While Whinae couldn't help but know about the raiders, she and the rest of the drudges didn't even know that the Hold had managed to acquire wher eggs, they were so jealously guarded.
Finally, the drudges were informed of the whers, just to the point where they were told to clean the dining hall for the Hatching ceremony the next day. One of the older drudges thought that that was hilarious, as no one could predict the precise time of a Hatching. They chuckled over that, but then settled to work. They started late in the evening, after dinner, and continued to work late in the night.
Whinae was scrubbing the walls of the hall by dim candlelight when she scraped her knuckles against the rough stone walls. She cried out softly in pain, but before she could clamp a clean rag across her bleeding hand, she felt a something get there first.
She wheeled around, heart racing in her chest, jerking her wounded hand away from whatever-it-was and holding it protectively to her chest. Grabbing her candle, she whipped around to get a look at whatever had been licking at her blood. Nothing can describe the surprise she felt when she saw a creature leaping after her hand. A peaceful bliss, an indescribable joy, frolicked across her mind, irrational as that was at the moment. Whinae, overcome by all of this, fainted.
She awoke a few minutes later when the creature decided it was finished with blood and leaped on Whinae's chest, demanding more substantial food. Whinae offered the thing a breadcrust, which was all she had in her pocket. She still wasn't entirely sure what it was. All that she knew was that, for some crazy reason, she loved it. And it loved her in return.
Finally, a few of the drudges heard the commotion and scampered over to see what was going on. The older drudge, the one that had scoffed at the idea that the Lord Holder could predict the day of the Hatching, was the first to recognize the wher for what it was. "Oh, you're in so much trouble! You Impressed one of the whers!"
And, so she was. She managed to sneak the wher back into her quarters in the kitchen, and as it liked to sleep through the day, she thought that she could keep it hidden. Whisk, as Whinae later learned her name was, was a lovely Green wher, the only one that had bonded to anyone out of the five. The other four had hatched and escaped from the dining hall without bonding.
When the Lord Holder found out that a lowly drudge had bonded to one of his precious, prized whers, he threw a fit. He was also furious that the rest of them had escaped unbonded, but as it's pretty hard to take one's temper out on individuals that can't be found, all of his anger was directed at Whinae, who simply wasn't able to handle it. He yelled at her for a good half an hour. Thankfully, he was decent enough not to get physical, but the verbal beration was still world-shattering to Whinae. A day later, she tried to hide herself in the deepest, most remote recesses of the Hold, but with a rapidly-growing wher to provide for, Whinae had to continually sneak back to the kitchen to steal food, hoping that no one unpleasant was waiting for her in the kitchen.
Finally, the Headwoman caught Whinae. She was a stern woman of few words. She grabbed Whinae by the upper arm, shoved a bundle of meat into her hands, and merely said, "Get out. We have enough trouble without a thief and a troublemaker." The words stung, but what could Whinae do but heed them? She and Whisk left that night, only a week after Whisk had hatched.
Once out of the Hold, however, Whinae had no idea where she was supposed to head. She'd never ventured outside of the Hold in her life. Eventually, she decided to take them to High Reaches Weyr, simply because the mountains gave her a definite landmarks, and hopefully she and Whisk would be accepted back at Whisk's place of clutching. Even travelling by night and sleeping through the day, it didn't take them long to arrive there.
Whisk and Whinae were welcomed with open arms at High Reaches. They were put into barracks with the other wherlings that had bonded to the whers that had stayed at High Reaches from Whisk's clutch and started their training. The new culture was a monolithic shock to Whinae. She wasn't used to so many people, especially those that were actually happy for her for bonding to a wher! She always remained quiet, but Whisk made plenty of friends for her. However, Whinae was still cautious around the male wherhandlers. Through wherlinghood, she hardly mustered up the courage to talk to most of them.
And then, the world really did shatter.
Whisk Ran.
It was a terrifying rush of feelings, strange, unfamiliar ones that swooped down on Whinae like birds of prey and simply overcame her. She awoke in the furs of one of the older wherhandlers, aching and terrified. She was never one to remain strong through experiences, so she tore Whisk away from the Green's new mate and fled High Reaches. She had known it would happen, but she wasn't prepared for it. It was too overwhelming for Whinae to handle.
Whinae travelled from cothold to cothold, selling the skins of animals that Whisk had hunted for a few measly marks. Whisk was reluctant to be away from other whers at first, but eventually both began to enjoy their life of solitude and adventure. Whinae grew bolder, and Whisk grew stronger. After a few Turns of such a lifestyle, though, Whisk caught a serious virus of some sort and fell ill. After a few sevendays, Whisk recovered, but the incident scarred Whinae. She knew that they had to return to a place where someone could take care of them if either ever got sick again.
It was then that they applied to Dalibor Weyr. As it was a new Weyr, Whinae hoped that there wouldn't be such a crazy atmosphere that was one of the reasons she had fled High Reaches. She was accepted as a transfer there, and moved in. To her pleasant surprise, Dalibor was a much warmer environment than she'd expected, and Whinae immediately felt right at home.
Wher Name: Whisk
Wher Age: 11 Turns
Wher Color: Green
Wher Length: Five feet
Wher Personality:
Whisk is highly paranoid. She trusts no one but Whinae, and every person, no matter how well Whisk knows him or her, is regarded with utmost suspicion. She's liable to attack whoever puts the smallest toe out of line, whoever she thinks is about to commit a hideous crime. Whinae is constantly finding herself having to mentally reel in the wher to prevent her from taking down every person that crosses her path.
Whisk is always on the alert. She is a very light-sleeping wher, and it doesn't take much at all to waken her. When she is awake, she always pays attention to what's going on around her. It's rare to see Whisk anything less than perfectly focused. She never dozes off. This can actually be quite the admirable trait in a wher, as it means that Whisk is always the first to nose out trouble or notice that something is amiss.
Whisk is aggressive and physical. She's a rather small wher, even for her color, but she's a cunning fighter and knows how to use her increased agility to her advantage. Whisk is not intelligent in that she has a long memory or that she can apply her mind to solving problems, but she does have a ruthless set of instincts that make it hard not to admit that she's smart in a certain way.
Whisk is a showoff. She knows she's pretty and she loves to flaunt that fact. As many Greens are, she's a flirt, though not even the shiniest Bronzes can distract her from her job. One of the fastest ways to convince Whisk that a person isn't an enemy is for that person to admire her. She moves in a graceful way for a wher when others are watching her, displaying that she's surely the best wher on Pern.
Wher Appearance:
Whisk's hide is an average shade of green with a little bit of a yellow hue in it. While her typical wher muscling is still startling huge for those that are not used to whers, she's actually much leaner than most whers, which makes her much more lithe and agile than most of her species. She doesn't have much stamina, but, to her, quickness is much more important to bring down one's prey. She has average-sized wings for a wher, which she uses to balance herself when dashing around after whatever it is she's convinced is dangerous.
Wher History: (copied from Whinae's)
Whinae was scrubbing the walls of the hall by dim candlelight when she scraped her knuckles against the rough stone walls. She cried out softly in pain, but before she could clamp a clean rag across her bleeding hand, she felt a something get there first.
She wheeled around, heart racing in her chest, jerking her wounded hand away from whatever-it-was and holding it protectively to her chest. Grabbing her candle, she whipped around to get a look at whatever had been licking at her blood. Nothing can describe the surprise she felt when she saw a creature leaping after her hand. A peaceful bliss, an indescribable joy, frolicked across her mind, irrational as that was at the moment. Whinae, overcome by all of this, fainted.
She awoke a few minutes later when the creature decided it was finished with blood and leaped on Whinae's chest, demanding more substantial food. Whinae offered the thing a breadcrust, which was all she had in her pocket. She still wasn't entirely sure what it was. All that she knew was that, for some crazy reason, she loved it. And it loved her in return.
Finally, a few of the drudges heard the commotion and scampered over to see what was going on. The older drudge, the one that had scoffed at the idea that the Lord Holder could predict the day of the Hatching, was the first to recognize the wher for what it was. "Oh, you're in so much trouble! You Impressed one of the whers!"
And, so she was. She managed to sneak the wher back into her quarters in the kitchen, and as it liked to sleep through the day, she thought that she could keep it hidden. Whisk, as Whinae later learned her name was, was a lovely Green wher, the only one that had bonded to anyone out of the five. The other four had hatched and escaped from the dining hall without bonding.
When the Lord Holder found out that a lowly drudge had bonded to one of his precious, prized whers, he threw a fit. He was also furious that the rest of them had escaped unbonded, but as it's pretty hard to take one's temper out on individuals that can't be found, all of his anger was directed at Whinae, who simply wasn't able to handle it. He yelled at her for a good half an hour. Thankfully, he was decent enough not to get physical, but the verbal beration was still world-shattering to Whinae. A day later, she tried to hide herself in the deepest, most remote recesses of the Hold, but with a rapidly-growing wher to provide for, Whinae had to continually sneak back to the kitchen to steal food, hoping that no one unpleasant was waiting for her in the kitchen.
Finally, the Headwoman caught Whinae. She was a stern woman of few words. She grabbed Whinae by the upper arm, shoved a bundle of meat into her hands, and merely said, "Get out. We have enough trouble without a thief and a troublemaker." The words stung, but what could Whinae do but heed them? She and Whisk left that night, only a week after Whisk had hatched.
Once out of the Hold, however, Whinae had no idea where she was supposed to head. She'd never ventured outside of the Hold in her life. Eventually, she decided to take them to High Reaches Weyr, simply because the mountains gave her a definite landmarks, and hopefully she and Whisk would be accepted back at Whisk's place of clutching. Even travelling by night and sleeping through the day, it didn't take them long to arrive there.
Whisk and Whinae were welcomed with open arms at High Reaches. They were put into barracks with the other wherlings that had bonded to the whers that had stayed at High Reaches from Whisk's clutch and started their training. The new culture was a monolithic shock to Whinae. She wasn't used to so many people, especially those that were actually happy for her for bonding to a wher! She always remained quiet, but Whisk made plenty of friends for her. However, Whinae was still cautious around the male wherhandlers. Through wherlinghood, she hardly mustered up the courage to talk to most of them.
And then, the world really did shatter.
Whisk Ran.
It was a terrifying rush of feelings, strange, unfamiliar ones that swooped down on Whinae like birds of prey and simply overcame her. She awoke in the furs of one of the older wherhandlers, aching and terrified. She was never one to remain strong through experiences, so she tore Whisk away from the Green's new mate and fled High Reaches. She had known it would happen, but she wasn't prepared for it. It was too overwhelming for Whinae to handle.
Whinae travelled from cothold to cothold, selling the skins of animals that Whisk had hunted for a few measly marks. Whisk was reluctant to be away from other whers at first, but eventually both began to enjoy their life of solitude and adventure. Whinae grew bolder, and Whisk grew stronger. After a few Turns of such a lifestyle, though, Whisk caught a serious virus of some sort and fell ill. After a few sevendays, Whisk recovered, but the incident scarred Whinae. She knew that they had to return to a place where someone could take care of them if either ever got sick again.
It was then that they applied to Dalibor Weyr. As it was a new Weyr, Whinae hoped that there wouldn't be such a crazy atmosphere that was one of the reasons she had fled High Reaches. She was accepted as a transfer there, and moved in. To her pleasant surprise, Dalibor was a much warmer environment than she'd expected, and Whinae immediately felt right at home.
Gender: Female
Age: 26 Turns
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Location: Dalibor Weyr
Rank: Wherhandler
Personality:
Whinae is one of those people who just likes to fade into the background. She is somewhat shy and introverted, so she's not one to strike up a conversation just to strike up a conversation. However, she's quite willing to talk to people, as long as they take the initiative to speak first. She's extremely polite and never lets a mean word escape from her lips. Whinae is not a person to which people go to get an honest opinion about something; she has that annoying habit of always saying something positive, even if it's a white lie, when someone wants the truth.
Whinae hates conflict. She hates it even more when she's the cause of it. She's prone to simply fleeing conflict rather than fighting it or trying to resolve it. When she's not involved in a disagreement, she makes a fair mediator. Whinae is careful not to say anything that could possibly irritate or upset anyone. She has mastered the art of thinking before one speaks, and she runs everything she plans to say through her head before actually uttering anything to ensure that she doesn't accidentally let something offensive slip.
Whinae is incredibly patient. She has no temper to speak of. If someone says something that she finds offensive, she rebukes them quietly but firmly and lets the subject drop. She's quick to forgive and to forget. She doesn't make enemies easily as she believes in second (and third, and fourth, and fifth, if that's what it takes) chances, and she refuses to judge someone based on their past behavior. She's also uncommonly tolerant of all sorts of people and creatures.
The Wherhandler, while slow to make enemies, is similarily slow in forming friendships and is snail-paced in making real relationships. She doesn't trust easily. It takes a span of Turns for her to feel comfortable with someone enough to confide much anything in them. Like Whisk in some ways, Whinae is rather paranoid about sharing her secrets. However, Whinae would rather have a very small, intimate group of friends that she could trust with her life than have just a few whose loyalty she has to question sometimes.
Her lack of trust does not mean that she's not empathetic, however. Whinae is helpful, and can be trusted to drop everything and assist someone who needs it just because she was asked to. She's a compassionate person, and her heart goes out to anyone in need. When there's little going on at the Weyr, Whinae has a habit of helping out in the infirmary during the night shift.
Appearance:
Whinae is a small, slight woman. She's only 5'4'' tall, and weighs about a hundred pounds. She doesn't have much in way of curves. She has the typical lean musculature of her fellow Wherhandlers that comes from having to care for such a rambunctious creature.
Whinae is pretty in an unobtrusive, subtle way. Her features are petite, with no one that strikes as special. She is pale, as is to be expected from one that has adapted her wher's nocturnal habits. She has dark blond hair which she usually keeps pinned up behind her head. Her eyes are a sort of imperfect brown that's not quite hazel.
Family:
Mother and father were drudges in a small hold beholden to High Reaches. She has no siblings or other known relatives.
Pets:
none
History:
Whinae was born into drudgery at a minor hold that was beholden to High Reaches Weyr. A relatively shy child, she had no problem with being a nobody. She did her work honestly and without complaint, earning her the respect of her fellows, if no promotions. She had friends, but she could never work up the courage to find anything more than that. Few people outside of the drudges even knew who Whinae was. She never caused the least stir, never the slightest problem, and she wanted to keep it that way. She wasn't one to look for glory or trouble.
One night, a band of raiders managed to run off with the Hold's few treasures, killing the ruling Lord and Lady Holders in the process. The new Lord, the couple's only son, immediately sent a message to High Reaches, asking for a few wher eggs. He wanted the whers bonded and raised at his Hold to prevent such a tragedy from occuring again. High Reaches obliged, and the next time its Queen wher clutched, they sent five wher eggs to the Hold.
The young Lord Holder quickly gathered up some young guards to be the wher Candidates. The guards were briefed on whers and told to blood themselves for any hatchling wher. The wher eggs were carefully guarded in the Lord Holder's room, perfectly tended by one of the Hold Healers, whose Gold firelizard had taught her how to care for clutches. While Whinae couldn't help but know about the raiders, she and the rest of the drudges didn't even know that the Hold had managed to acquire wher eggs, they were so jealously guarded.
Finally, the drudges were informed of the whers, just to the point where they were told to clean the dining hall for the Hatching ceremony the next day. One of the older drudges thought that that was hilarious, as no one could predict the precise time of a Hatching. They chuckled over that, but then settled to work. They started late in the evening, after dinner, and continued to work late in the night.
Whinae was scrubbing the walls of the hall by dim candlelight when she scraped her knuckles against the rough stone walls. She cried out softly in pain, but before she could clamp a clean rag across her bleeding hand, she felt a something get there first.
She wheeled around, heart racing in her chest, jerking her wounded hand away from whatever-it-was and holding it protectively to her chest. Grabbing her candle, she whipped around to get a look at whatever had been licking at her blood. Nothing can describe the surprise she felt when she saw a creature leaping after her hand. A peaceful bliss, an indescribable joy, frolicked across her mind, irrational as that was at the moment. Whinae, overcome by all of this, fainted.
She awoke a few minutes later when the creature decided it was finished with blood and leaped on Whinae's chest, demanding more substantial food. Whinae offered the thing a breadcrust, which was all she had in her pocket. She still wasn't entirely sure what it was. All that she knew was that, for some crazy reason, she loved it. And it loved her in return.
Finally, a few of the drudges heard the commotion and scampered over to see what was going on. The older drudge, the one that had scoffed at the idea that the Lord Holder could predict the day of the Hatching, was the first to recognize the wher for what it was. "Oh, you're in so much trouble! You Impressed one of the whers!"
And, so she was. She managed to sneak the wher back into her quarters in the kitchen, and as it liked to sleep through the day, she thought that she could keep it hidden. Whisk, as Whinae later learned her name was, was a lovely Green wher, the only one that had bonded to anyone out of the five. The other four had hatched and escaped from the dining hall without bonding.
When the Lord Holder found out that a lowly drudge had bonded to one of his precious, prized whers, he threw a fit. He was also furious that the rest of them had escaped unbonded, but as it's pretty hard to take one's temper out on individuals that can't be found, all of his anger was directed at Whinae, who simply wasn't able to handle it. He yelled at her for a good half an hour. Thankfully, he was decent enough not to get physical, but the verbal beration was still world-shattering to Whinae. A day later, she tried to hide herself in the deepest, most remote recesses of the Hold, but with a rapidly-growing wher to provide for, Whinae had to continually sneak back to the kitchen to steal food, hoping that no one unpleasant was waiting for her in the kitchen.
Finally, the Headwoman caught Whinae. She was a stern woman of few words. She grabbed Whinae by the upper arm, shoved a bundle of meat into her hands, and merely said, "Get out. We have enough trouble without a thief and a troublemaker." The words stung, but what could Whinae do but heed them? She and Whisk left that night, only a week after Whisk had hatched.
Once out of the Hold, however, Whinae had no idea where she was supposed to head. She'd never ventured outside of the Hold in her life. Eventually, she decided to take them to High Reaches Weyr, simply because the mountains gave her a definite landmarks, and hopefully she and Whisk would be accepted back at Whisk's place of clutching. Even travelling by night and sleeping through the day, it didn't take them long to arrive there.
Whisk and Whinae were welcomed with open arms at High Reaches. They were put into barracks with the other wherlings that had bonded to the whers that had stayed at High Reaches from Whisk's clutch and started their training. The new culture was a monolithic shock to Whinae. She wasn't used to so many people, especially those that were actually happy for her for bonding to a wher! She always remained quiet, but Whisk made plenty of friends for her. However, Whinae was still cautious around the male wherhandlers. Through wherlinghood, she hardly mustered up the courage to talk to most of them.
And then, the world really did shatter.
Whisk Ran.
It was a terrifying rush of feelings, strange, unfamiliar ones that swooped down on Whinae like birds of prey and simply overcame her. She awoke in the furs of one of the older wherhandlers, aching and terrified. She was never one to remain strong through experiences, so she tore Whisk away from the Green's new mate and fled High Reaches. She had known it would happen, but she wasn't prepared for it. It was too overwhelming for Whinae to handle.
Whinae travelled from cothold to cothold, selling the skins of animals that Whisk had hunted for a few measly marks. Whisk was reluctant to be away from other whers at first, but eventually both began to enjoy their life of solitude and adventure. Whinae grew bolder, and Whisk grew stronger. After a few Turns of such a lifestyle, though, Whisk caught a serious virus of some sort and fell ill. After a few sevendays, Whisk recovered, but the incident scarred Whinae. She knew that they had to return to a place where someone could take care of them if either ever got sick again.
It was then that they applied to Dalibor Weyr. As it was a new Weyr, Whinae hoped that there wouldn't be such a crazy atmosphere that was one of the reasons she had fled High Reaches. She was accepted as a transfer there, and moved in. To her pleasant surprise, Dalibor was a much warmer environment than she'd expected, and Whinae immediately felt right at home.
Wher Name: Whisk
Wher Age: 11 Turns
Wher Color: Green
Wher Length: Five feet
Wher Personality:
Whisk is highly paranoid. She trusts no one but Whinae, and every person, no matter how well Whisk knows him or her, is regarded with utmost suspicion. She's liable to attack whoever puts the smallest toe out of line, whoever she thinks is about to commit a hideous crime. Whinae is constantly finding herself having to mentally reel in the wher to prevent her from taking down every person that crosses her path.
Whisk is always on the alert. She is a very light-sleeping wher, and it doesn't take much at all to waken her. When she is awake, she always pays attention to what's going on around her. It's rare to see Whisk anything less than perfectly focused. She never dozes off. This can actually be quite the admirable trait in a wher, as it means that Whisk is always the first to nose out trouble or notice that something is amiss.
Whisk is aggressive and physical. She's a rather small wher, even for her color, but she's a cunning fighter and knows how to use her increased agility to her advantage. Whisk is not intelligent in that she has a long memory or that she can apply her mind to solving problems, but she does have a ruthless set of instincts that make it hard not to admit that she's smart in a certain way.
Whisk is a showoff. She knows she's pretty and she loves to flaunt that fact. As many Greens are, she's a flirt, though not even the shiniest Bronzes can distract her from her job. One of the fastest ways to convince Whisk that a person isn't an enemy is for that person to admire her. She moves in a graceful way for a wher when others are watching her, displaying that she's surely the best wher on Pern.
Wher Appearance:
Whisk's hide is an average shade of green with a little bit of a yellow hue in it. While her typical wher muscling is still startling huge for those that are not used to whers, she's actually much leaner than most whers, which makes her much more lithe and agile than most of her species. She doesn't have much stamina, but, to her, quickness is much more important to bring down one's prey. She has average-sized wings for a wher, which she uses to balance herself when dashing around after whatever it is she's convinced is dangerous.
Wher History: (copied from Whinae's)
Whinae was scrubbing the walls of the hall by dim candlelight when she scraped her knuckles against the rough stone walls. She cried out softly in pain, but before she could clamp a clean rag across her bleeding hand, she felt a something get there first.
She wheeled around, heart racing in her chest, jerking her wounded hand away from whatever-it-was and holding it protectively to her chest. Grabbing her candle, she whipped around to get a look at whatever had been licking at her blood. Nothing can describe the surprise she felt when she saw a creature leaping after her hand. A peaceful bliss, an indescribable joy, frolicked across her mind, irrational as that was at the moment. Whinae, overcome by all of this, fainted.
She awoke a few minutes later when the creature decided it was finished with blood and leaped on Whinae's chest, demanding more substantial food. Whinae offered the thing a breadcrust, which was all she had in her pocket. She still wasn't entirely sure what it was. All that she knew was that, for some crazy reason, she loved it. And it loved her in return.
Finally, a few of the drudges heard the commotion and scampered over to see what was going on. The older drudge, the one that had scoffed at the idea that the Lord Holder could predict the day of the Hatching, was the first to recognize the wher for what it was. "Oh, you're in so much trouble! You Impressed one of the whers!"
And, so she was. She managed to sneak the wher back into her quarters in the kitchen, and as it liked to sleep through the day, she thought that she could keep it hidden. Whisk, as Whinae later learned her name was, was a lovely Green wher, the only one that had bonded to anyone out of the five. The other four had hatched and escaped from the dining hall without bonding.
When the Lord Holder found out that a lowly drudge had bonded to one of his precious, prized whers, he threw a fit. He was also furious that the rest of them had escaped unbonded, but as it's pretty hard to take one's temper out on individuals that can't be found, all of his anger was directed at Whinae, who simply wasn't able to handle it. He yelled at her for a good half an hour. Thankfully, he was decent enough not to get physical, but the verbal beration was still world-shattering to Whinae. A day later, she tried to hide herself in the deepest, most remote recesses of the Hold, but with a rapidly-growing wher to provide for, Whinae had to continually sneak back to the kitchen to steal food, hoping that no one unpleasant was waiting for her in the kitchen.
Finally, the Headwoman caught Whinae. She was a stern woman of few words. She grabbed Whinae by the upper arm, shoved a bundle of meat into her hands, and merely said, "Get out. We have enough trouble without a thief and a troublemaker." The words stung, but what could Whinae do but heed them? She and Whisk left that night, only a week after Whisk had hatched.
Once out of the Hold, however, Whinae had no idea where she was supposed to head. She'd never ventured outside of the Hold in her life. Eventually, she decided to take them to High Reaches Weyr, simply because the mountains gave her a definite landmarks, and hopefully she and Whisk would be accepted back at Whisk's place of clutching. Even travelling by night and sleeping through the day, it didn't take them long to arrive there.
Whisk and Whinae were welcomed with open arms at High Reaches. They were put into barracks with the other wherlings that had bonded to the whers that had stayed at High Reaches from Whisk's clutch and started their training. The new culture was a monolithic shock to Whinae. She wasn't used to so many people, especially those that were actually happy for her for bonding to a wher! She always remained quiet, but Whisk made plenty of friends for her. However, Whinae was still cautious around the male wherhandlers. Through wherlinghood, she hardly mustered up the courage to talk to most of them.
And then, the world really did shatter.
Whisk Ran.
It was a terrifying rush of feelings, strange, unfamiliar ones that swooped down on Whinae like birds of prey and simply overcame her. She awoke in the furs of one of the older wherhandlers, aching and terrified. She was never one to remain strong through experiences, so she tore Whisk away from the Green's new mate and fled High Reaches. She had known it would happen, but she wasn't prepared for it. It was too overwhelming for Whinae to handle.
Whinae travelled from cothold to cothold, selling the skins of animals that Whisk had hunted for a few measly marks. Whisk was reluctant to be away from other whers at first, but eventually both began to enjoy their life of solitude and adventure. Whinae grew bolder, and Whisk grew stronger. After a few Turns of such a lifestyle, though, Whisk caught a serious virus of some sort and fell ill. After a few sevendays, Whisk recovered, but the incident scarred Whinae. She knew that they had to return to a place where someone could take care of them if either ever got sick again.
It was then that they applied to Dalibor Weyr. As it was a new Weyr, Whinae hoped that there wouldn't be such a crazy atmosphere that was one of the reasons she had fled High Reaches. She was accepted as a transfer there, and moved in. To her pleasant surprise, Dalibor was a much warmer environment than she'd expected, and Whinae immediately felt right at home.
