Post by fidelli on Mar 6, 2009 21:56:11 GMT -5
Name;;[/color] Shock hit him, a funny feeling in the gut even as the quiet musical laughter he had been hearing throughout the hatchling's antic's broke through his skull and roared through. Colors, bright and cheerful, and an achingly happy emotion that seemed too good to be real. But the words kept coming! And perhaps bring something that would make me not feel so empty. Are you coming to fix my sails and talk to me, F'del?
F'del (Fa- Dell)
Gender;;
Male
Age;;
Fall of the 161th Turn, in the 10th Interval
38 Turns.
Sexuality;;
Bisexual
Location;;
Transfered to Dalibor from Southern Weyr
Rank;;
Weyrlingmaster
Personality;;
First impressions are vital to everything, and this man is no different. In one conversation, you get the idea of intelligence, humor, and above all, a very very relaxed attitude. It’s not laziness – he enjoys running and being active – it’s just that he doesn’t really have a problem with anything. Like an indulgent parent it takes forever to get him riled up, and even then he really won’t do anything about being angry.
In conversations, he is amiable and kind, a generous listener and agreeable to just about anything. He, until his dragon, doesn’t mind sitting still in the sun, but can be convinced to go for walks and explore. F’del, despite being able to deal with people, really doesn’t. He’s more of a loner, and although he may have several billion acquaintances , he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s built on the fact that he has a huge trust issue, but more on that later. He is polite to all, and an amusing conversationalist, but is always more content to curl up by himself or with Altith and draw.
His main way of expressing himself is with art. Drawing, painting, doodling, he has scraps and scraps of hide flung around his other-wise neat room, and whenever he gets the inspiration he is off. He might not even sleep or eat unless Altith reminds him to, so caught up in a picture. Details are his favorite, tiny details down the last window of Bendon Hold’s main building to the sparks in A’mor’s eyes. He loves drawing people the most, and if Southern Weyr were to raid his chest of finished pieces most of them would find a picture of themselves there. He likes drawing the people he observes in their natural environment, whether Altith in the sky or the young cook kneading bread. They are how he escapes, how he thinks and feels, and without drawing… He isn’t quite sure what he would do.
Altith, his Purple, is the main thing in his life. More important than his sisters, his brother, A’mor, and his own life, he loves the Purple with every piece of his being. Although Altith doesn’t mind being away from him for a little while, F’del finds he his more assured (and less likely to take the fellis juice) when he can reach out and see –better yet, touch – the Purple. Altith’s innocence and youthful enjoyment of everything makes the man often see and act like he does, which is good for him.
F’del is very big on the truth, and will tell it. He, thankfully, does have more tact that Altith does, so he knows when to say it, but can’t stand people who lie to his face and dislikes those that find they have to lie to make themselves look better. He’s a little hard on himself, not always seeing the good qualities such as his infinite amount of patience, his worry for everything around him, his kind touch, gentle words, relaxed air around him that makes it easy to talk to…
He is curious, always asking questions and much like the Purple, but the difference is he waits to learn more. He never minds following Altith’s lead, doting on the dragon and knowing that he generally has a good idea for everything he does. He enjoys having a good time, and loved telling stories to the younger Southern `Brats, who looked forward to his visit’s just as much as Altith’s. Just as much as Altith, he to hates being bored. The difference is, he can find more things to do than the ever attracted to shiny things dragon.
Some of the things he hates, although it’d be hard pressed for people to realize it, is cold klah, obnoxious people, spinners, and Altith talking to other people. With most dragons it is a taboo, but Altith really doesn’t mind, nor does he realize that F’del dislikes it that much. It also irritates him that his dragon only see’s the best in people. F’del tends to be more wary of others, although it won’t seem like it in regular conversation. It bothers him when people are unhappy, and he loves to see them smile – he fully agree’s with Altith’s way of going slightly overboard to make people smile.
F’del is very smart, and catches onto things quickly – he believes that you are never to old for change. He has a huge faith on common sense, and is slightly wary on instincts because he knows he jumps to much on his hearts whims. F’del is bisexual, and doesn’t mind being attracted to either or. He knows he isn’t the most amazing looker out there, but doesn’t mind having lunch with a new rider or one of the Lower Cavern worker’s every once in a while. He and Altith also agree on the way to treat ladies – or in his case, partner – and knows that they deserve compliments, flowers, treats, kind words. Things like that, when he is the more dominant person in the relationship, and he generally is.
Trust is something that F’del has a huge issue on. No real reason behind it, he just has never had a good reason to trust anyone. Most people lie, even if by accident, and finds that he has huge problems believing anybody after a while. Trusting someone is a two way street, he also thinks, and he thinks he needs a close relationship with someone to start trusting them. You’ll understand that that is quite ridiculous because you can’t start a relationship without trust, meaning that generally he is screwed.
The biggest part of his personality is the fact that he is addicted to fellis weed. He likes the fact that the juice takes away all feeling and thoughts, leaving him drifting – however, he fears that it could hurt Altith and often only takes enough that his words come out slower, his movements seem drawn out, and his thoughts turn into a jumble. An insomniac, he drinks enough to knock him out and have a full night of sleep – something that he gets when he sleeps next to another person as well. The fellis, while bad for him, is taken in moderation, and A’mor was often there to keep him from over-dosing to. Altith, he knows, tends to ignore this part of His, for the child-like creature isn’t sure how to handle it.
Appearance;;
Regular in almost every way, F’del is almost the complete opposite of his dragon’s rather wild appearance. Broad-shouldered and slightly stocky, he has a definite male aura about him. Nothing about him really catches the eye, from his average height to his average build. He doesn’t lack strength, and isn’t slow when running, but just looking at him wouldn’t give any inclination of these factors. A narrow face with high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked nose, his mouth is wide and smiles more easily than it frowns.
A mop of jet-black hair that runs in his family, soft but unmanageable, hides his ears and often the prettiest thing about his appearance. Green eyes, the colors of warm spring and newly grown plants, are large, the irises ringed with a soft brown that quickly melts away. His hands are broad and long fingered, callused, while his feet are just as big, and he looks more like twenty-five turns than almost thirty-two. He has a dark tan and a constantly wind-chapped face that shows his love for being outside, and a straight toothed smile.
Normal looking, he has a way of walking as though blending into the woodwork, often a shadow. However, he has an air about him, adopted for everything, that oozes gentleness and patience, a languid relaxation. He is graceful, no doubt about that, and quick and agile despite the looks. He figures it comes from raising a young boy who enjoyed touching everything – if you want to save something breakable, you have to be quick. His clothing style is simple, and basic – a pair of loose pants or breeches, heavy-duty boots, and a simple tunic. He likes the colors that are muted, silvers and blacks and whites and browns, and the only jewelry he carries on him is a simple necklace his mother wore, a chain with a small pendent of twisted, elegant metal. All in all, it is to the beholder whether he looks handsome or not, although none can come right out and call him ugly.
Family;;
Father:
Acchius ;;Deceased
Mother:
Fenaper ;;Deceased
Sisters:
Tacchiusemper ;; Lady Holder of Cothold Deiti, 42 Turns
Tacchiusalana ;; Masterhealer, 41
Sacchiusanctim ;;Weaver, 40 Turns
Piacchiuseta ;;Journeywoman Dolphineer, 36 Turns
Hacchiusumil ;; Baker, 36 Turns
Brothers-In-Law:
Malisren ;; Lord Cotholder, 42 Turns
----
Vacrew ;; Mastertrader, 41 Turns
----
Emment ;; Baker, 35 Turns
Brother:
Eacchiussper ;;17 Turns
Nephews:
Jarew ;; Journeyman Miner, 22 Turns
I'lan ;; Rider of Blue Garth, 20 Turns
Kentar ;; High Reaches Guard, Bonded to Bronze Kentisk, 20 Turns
Barew ;; Journeyman Healer, 18 Turns
Feriacchius ;; Apprentice Harper, 15 Turns
Danaro ;; Apprentice Dolphineer, 12 Turns
Nieces:
Lasicta ;; Journeywoman Harper, 19 Turns
Anara ;; Cothold Heir, 18 Turns
Nemacchiusly ;; Apprentice Dolphineer, 14 Turns
Kanay ;; Apprentice Weaver, 13 Turns
Varacchius ;; Apprentice Healer, 11 Turns
Gevonia ;; Holdbrat, 6 Turns
Niece-ish
Anima - 16
Pets;;
Green Ribbon
History;; In a tiny cothold several days ride from Southern Weyr, something momentous was happening. Fenaper, the young bride of the new Holder was giving birth. Acchius, the impatient father paced outside the chamber, chewing on a thumbnail as he worried. His wife was a match that was made out of love rather than set up by his recently passed father - despite her youth they had married, and now ten months later he was about to be a father. At twenty-four turns some said that his wait was odd, but his Fenaper had only breached her eighteenth turn not five sevenday's ago! He worried she was not old enough, but the gentle quiet woman only had laughed at him. She was not quiet now, as breathy moans and mounting screams came through the wooden door.
'Darling? Are you all right?' Her husband, bless his soul, was getting on her nerves. All she wanted was quiet, and for the pain to stop! But as she expelled another breath of air and spat out the piece of clothe in her mouth she had been biting on, she managed to call back, 'As well as can be expected. Now please - shut up.' She knew that the handsome man was probably gnawing away at his thumb, and a small smile played at the corner of her mouth before another wave of pain hit her stomach. Clenching at the swollen belly, she let out a scream and pushed.
Thus was the birth of the first daughter at Deiti Cothold under the new Holder. Tacchiusemper was born - a brightly squalling little girl. A little under a turn later, Tacchiusalana followed her, and not much more than that Sacchiusanctim came out, a sickly child, but alive none-the-less. She worked on raising those three children, and being the Lady Holder for three turns - loosing a baby in childbirth and miscarrying two more - before she told her husband she wanted to try one last time. This union ended in a pair of squalling girls - Piacchiuseta and Hacchiusumil. It was not for another five, almost six turns that the happy parents thought to try for more - a Cothold was a busy place, and they had their hands full.
That is, until Fenaper turned to her husband and told him that she was again carrying a child. The scene that played this time was a little different.
Next to his wife, a salt and peppered man held onto the delicately callused hand, murmuring to her softly. They had long since aged and matured since the first child, the woman no longer caring that her husband saw her birthing, and, although he still treated her like a flower, he no longer caring. Now he was there as she screamed, nearly breaking the bones in his hand as she gripped against the pain ripping itself from inside out. The old midwife only clucked, and snapped for more towels. It was a breach birth, a risky thing for both the mother and child.
Thankfully, the old woman managed to turn the child around and guide him safety from his mother. 'A boy.' A squalling noise came out from him, but in a few seconds died down. 'Quiet, to. That's interesting.' The parents didn't hear her mumbling, busy murmuring over their first boy. Fiacchiusdel was born, six turns younger than his older sisters were, and twelve turns younger than his oldest. It made for an interesting predicament.
For the first four turns he stayed under his mother's careful eye, a little toddler with a spray of shock black hair and a happy smile for everyone he met. Then, around his fifth birth day, an illness struck. Most of the Hold grew sick, and many died - Fidel was shunted to the side under his sister's watch. Tacchiusemper, or Temper as they teasingly called her, was 18 at that point, and spent most of her time studying the running of the Hold. Tacchiusalana, Lana, was a newly walked Journeyman Healer, and Sanctim was a small girl, slight, but even at sixteen had a strong sense of weaving. Piseta and Humil were only twelve, but Piseta had left to Apprentice at the Dolphin Hall nearby for a turn already. She had come back at her parent's request, doing small things to help out in the Hold's time of need and keeping up with her study's under a Journeyman they had living with them. Humil had found her passion in the kitchen, training under the stern Head Cook there. So, as his parents tried to deal with the crumbling Hold, Fidel was passed back and forth between sisters.
This was where everyone says he learned his calmness, and his ability to pick up odd information. As sister passed him to the next, they would use him as a sounding board, saying their teachings out loud and teaching him for something to do. He swam with dolphins, collected herbs and understood basic medicine, learned the finer points in cooking, how to run a hold, and the exacting art of holding a needle - but it wasn't all fun and games. He was expected to work at these points, as much as a five year old could, and his sister's left a no nonsense air about getting the stuff done. He understood why - even at five turns he had been a bright one.
The illness abated, and his sister's went off. Piseta left, back to the Hall, while Temper immersed herself in the Cothold. He was a free boy, running wild in the jungle around Southern and swimming in the ocean with his sister's dolphin, Sarlik. It was for four turns that he did this, growing up tan and sprightly, well fed by his sister's rich cooking.
Of course, when Fenaper found out she was a little less than happy. Her other girls had been useful - her son would be no different. So Fidel was caught, and dragged to where his mother was working at the moment: in the weaver's building. There, she took the calm boy and plunked him among six or seven young `Brats, telling him to watch the children so that they could get work done. They say that this was where he learned his patience. The seven kids ranged from 4 to 8, the oldest only a few turns younger than him. He learned very quickly how to deal with them, and they loved the older boy with the quick smile and easy attitude. He showed them things, letting them swim with the dolphins and feeding them Humil's cooking as she laughed on. His day-care center grew as the planting season came about, ranging to almost sixteen kids, and he turned twelve as he taught them how to harvest the berries in the jungle.
He didn't look twelve years old - tall and gangly, with black hair that gave him a shaggy look, he could pass as fourteen or fifteen. His easygoing attitude made it easy to get along with him, and he gladly kept them under control. The biggest problem was that he didn't seem to want to do anything. He showed promise in the Dolphinhall, and had been asked to Apprentice, but he had declined. He could have gone and been a Baker, or worked in the Weaver's Hall with his steady hands and patience, but he declined them all. The boy was just more comfortable in the cothold, doing the odd jobs and babysitting, so he lived off of the land and grew strong and supple.
Until a dragonrider came through. Brownrider L'rit and Zanth were quite happy to spend the night on the warm fall afternoon as sparks danced up from bonfires as the Holder's celebrated a young boy's fifteenth birth day. The wine flowed thick, and the hospitality was generous - L'rit confided to Zanth that he wanted to Search this Hold more often, and Zanth (enjoying the attention the younger children gave him) agreed. It wasn't until a young man - the boy who had just turned - came over to shoo the children away from the Brown that Zanth jerked and focused closer on him. Mine! I like this one. He is Rider material. The Brownrider blinked, and gave the young man another once over. Slim, confident, he looked more seventeen turns than a just turned fifteen. Rising an eyebrow, he caught the young man's elbow and dragged him off to tell him the news in private.
It didn't stay that way for long. Fidel, after a slow moment of thought, agreed. As much as he loved the kids, he didn't want to stay here the rest of his life. A slow drawling voice told the Rider, "Sure. Why not?" And went back to tell the rest of the Hold his news. The celebration ran far into the night as they danced and made merry, the children asking a million questions and having to be soothed that he would come and visit them lots. With the mention of presents and flit eggs they were quite happy to allow him to leave, though he swore many a solemn oath that he would come back.
So the next morning, after L'rit got over his hang-over, the pair mounted the sandy colored Brown and took off to the Weyr. The world there was much different then the small Cothold that he had spent his first turns in, but the mellow boy stayed himself, and waited for a clutch on the sands. He made a few friends, and did stupid boy things, as they are want to do. His biggest mistake was less than three sevendays at the new Weyr. The older Candidates, who had stood at Hatchings before, had been hazing the newly arrived younger ones. Fidel stuck up for them, and ended up taking the challenge of riding the new runner that had been brought in - a nasty piebald stallion that didn't really like anybody and hated being ridden.
Fidel managed to stay the required thirty seconds on the runner. And then was bucked off faster than you can say the first word that pops in your head, and landed hard, blacking out.
Everything was fuzzy. Very, very fuzzy. But the fuzziness blocked the pain, and the white place he had been in was someplace he wanted to go back to. A wave a nausea and pain slammed into his stomach at that point, making the young man heave up to empty his already empty stomach in a pail next to his bed. Wiping his lips with the back of his left arm - he couldn't move his right one for some reason - he fell back against the pillow and tiredly checked his surroundings. He was in the infirmary, and a kind old Healer had bustled in at the noise. 'Tut tut, dear. You poor thing! You were out for two days - you must be hungry.' He blinked at her, and croaked from a hoarse voice, "Two days? What happened?"
She smiled at him, checking his forehead with a cool hand. 'You were knocked out! That runner bucked you, and you cracked your collarbone, dislocated your shoulder, and snapped the bone in your arm. We had to re-set it - I'm not surprised you don't remember. Lots of pain, you were screaming with a high fever for almost a day before we managed to break it.' Another wave of nausea hit, and he rolled over to heave again. 'Awww... Poor baby. How do you feel?' He blinked at her, and managed to mutter, "Pain." She chuckled, and bustled over to the small table. 'I bet. You broke a finger in your left hand to - the runner stepped on you.' He didn't throw up this time, but it was a hard fight. 'Here dear. Drink some of this.' A cup was at his lips; he took a sip and would have dumped the whole thing down his dry throat if she hadn't been murmuring, 'Slowly! Slowly.' Immediately after the last dregs were down his throat he was exhausted, but he asked her before he fell asleep, "What was in that?" She chuckled. 'Almost pure fellis extract.'
Fidel stayed in bed for almost two sevenday's before he felt strong enough to clamber out, and it took another two before they discharged him. However, that wasn't the biggest problem. The already calm boy had found he enjoyed the numbing, floating sensation of fellis extract, and thanks to the time he had spent helping his sister harvest her herbs, he knew what the plant looked like and how to milk it correctly. The boy became a fellis addict - just enough dripped from a tiny bottle he carried into any liquid, and he floated on a high for several hours. He kept it a secret though - he had a funny feeling that he wasn't supposed to do it.
In the summer of his sixteenth turn, three seasons after he had left home, Orange Layath Rose. The flight feelings were... Interesting, and he stayed locked in a closet flying just as high as Layath was. After it was over, he could barely remember the Flight. But a few sevendays later, she laid a clutch of six eggs, and for the third time Fidel carefully slid into the white robe and stepped onto the heated sands. One by one the eggs hatched, two pinks, a black, a blue, and a green quickly claiming Their's and skipping off. He was left, with a few others, watching the last egg.
It was hot, and the sweat pouring down his back made the robe itch. He was only half on the fellis, so the itch was a lazy throb in the back of his mind. It was worth ignoring as he watched the very bright egg rock slightly... And then it paused, and rocked again, as if the creature inside had just realized what he could do. It rocked again... And then the egg began to roll around the sands! Fidel began to crack up, watching the little creature wobble around. If he didn't know better, he would say the egg was pleased with itself! But the humor ended all to soon as the little creature practically fell out of the side. A white? No... The head that appeared was drizzled with a dark color, but he was too far to see. The word Purple murmured around the Cavern, but he would wait until he saw it with his own eyes.
The young dragon was funny, to say the least. With a happy tranquility that rivaled his own the creature kept the Candidates sweating for at least a quarter candlemark - Fidel didn't really mind. The kidlet was worth the laughter, and he felt a tiny surge of jealousy for whoever would get the little dork. Wings surged from him, and Fidel blinked. They looked too big, even for a dragon. But the little guy was falling and tumbling, and he wanted to tell whoever's dragon it was to realize it and go help him!
MineOwn, I would like to point out that this is terribly embarrassing and I would truly prefer if you would come out from where you were hiding among the funny things to come find your Altith?
He began to laugh, even as he shoved through the males to breach the sands and make his way to his dragon. You laugh, MineF'del? He shook his head, even as he reached out to feel the solid life under of His dragon. "At you, Alti. What are you doing?" He could swear the purple was grinning at him. I was trying to find you, SillyMine! But now I have, so everything is alright. "Alti. I found you." No, F'delMine. I found you. "Suit yourself." The boy shook his head, content to not argue with the young Purple.
Thus the bonded pair was released onto Southern Weyr. The little terror was a sweetheart, but often left F'del with aching headaches as he tried to explain to him the way of the world. Only when he knew that Altith would be asleep did he allow himself to float on his cloud, afraid that it would hurt the young dragon. He adored the creature that loved him, adored the perfection of his creature, and knew that he had been missing out for to long.
This was the harshest time for F'del. A generally sweet boy, he didn't quite understand how to talk to other's his age, and his biggest fear was loosing Altith. The Weyrlingmaster's had explained that sex or huge occurrences could easily scare a young hatchling between, and he feared the drug would scare him too much - but he couldn't stop the drug cold, and didn't want to stop. He fought with his conscious for a long time, only drinking it when the dragon was asleep or taking a much lesser amount. He found that he could drink very little and the euphoria feeling would just stay much like a buzz, and he hoped that in the low enough quantities he wouldn't hurt his dragon.
He and Altith loved Weyrling lessons. F'del was proud to have a smart dragon, and he himself enjoyed learning new things. Of course, Alti was a little distracted, but F'del worked at him to make him focus. The innocence of his dragon always made him laugh, and the child-like naivete kept him child-like as well, in many ways. Of course, there were the occasional problems. Such as the fact that Alti loved to make friends, and would often talk to the most random of people. At the worst times.
His favorite lesson was when he was allowed to harness his young Sub-King and take to the skies. The pair were tight, and as bonded as they could be - but when they took to the skies that difference wasn't even possible to explain.
Mine, Mine, Mine! Please, hurry![/i] Behind the sprightly Purple F'del ran, holding his helmet and his side and trying to keep up with the half-grown dragon. I'm coming. I'm coming! We aren't even late yet Alti! It didn't seem to matter to the creature however, as Altith sprang ahead to the open field where the Weyrlingmaster sat on his dragon's back idly. 'Ah! We aren't surprised that you two are the first.' Altith sneezed at him indignantly, informing the pair that he would not miss flying for anything. F'del leaned over, panting and trying to get the knot from his chest as he fought the urge for just a sip of the almost sickly sweet fellis juice. "No, Altith was quite sure we should arrive first. I don't think he realizes this means he has to wait, though."
But with enough time, the other five Weyrling's gathered and they began to try. The harnesses went on quickly enough - they had had to practice this a million times before. On they went, and the Weyrlingmaster looked around with a cocked eyebrow, smiling at an inside joke. 'Who wants to go fir-' ME.[/color] The man snorted, but only nodded as Altith interrupted, and a little pale, F'del mounted the dragon. Altith danced in place, all the excited runner, but as F'del began to say ready he was off, running across the bowl and flapping his wings, the extra weight not a real burden... And then they were no longer running, and in a whoop of excitement the pair were in the air. Wind whipped at F'del's face, but he didn't mind. Yelling at the top of his voice, even going so far as to stand in the harness as Altith's enjoyment become one, the pair stayed up until Altith grumbled about how he was supposed to land.
Weyrling lessons were almost over, and Altith proved to be an adequate fire breather, when he began talking to the female dragons more and more often. It meant that F'del began to have more and more conversations with those riders, many young pretty girls and boys, but he kept his own council as he already did and allowed Altith free rein.
Of course, he really wished that he had kept a closer eye on it all when Gray Noyth rose. A'mor, his rider, was a blond cute man who had been with his dragon for four turns, compared to his two. It was Noyth's first Flight, and although Altith had been talking about her before, he had ignored that general section of burble regarding girls - they came and went faster than people did. It wasn't until he had just glided in from giving Altith a bath did the dragon proclaim his intentions and fly off; leaving F'del very very much confused, and very very self-conscious. In a blur of colors and emotions that really weren't his, F'del woke the next morning very sore... And next to a guy.
He was contentedly warm, that much he knew... The heavy furs under him were thick and smelled delicious, like a fruity sweet and a musk that wasn't familiar. His legs were tangled in the sheets and in another pair of legs, and his arm was slung over a warm body, his face pressed into silky soft hair... Wait a minute. Another person? Eyes shot open, and he found himself indeed tangled with a sleeping body. Altith? He made no move to shift himself, but he was having trouble remembering anything. Maybe the Purple would be able to sort him out. Sounding decidedly smug, Altith answered back, Yes, Mine?[/I] Where am I, exactly? Mine, I won! You do not remember? That is Noyth's rider. In a heartbeat he did remember, and closed his eyes again. All right. I'm glad you won, my dear.[/I]
It wasn't until later in the day that he woke up again, to silvery laughter. Bleary blinking open sleep encrusted eyes, he saw that the rider he had been curled up with had escaped, had bathed, and was now sitting cross legged over him, laughing. "Wha?" The rider laughed again - he couldn't be much younger than himself - and said, 'You've been sleeping for ages! I'm hungry!' A'mor - that was his name, right? - rose on long legs to grab a bundle of clothing and throw it at him. 'Altith told me were your Weyr was, so I got you clothes. Come on, I'm still hungry!' Throwing off his furs, F'del found himself grumbling, "Faranth, not another Altith." This only caused another peal of laughter.
His relationship with A'mor blossomed as the two waited to see if Noyth would lay. It turned out the young Dragonhealer was a year his younger, but had Impressed Noyth two years before he himself had Impressed Altith. They didn't have much in common, but quickly became the best of friends. Noyth laid one small egg on the sands, and that brought them even closer together, as both dragon's spent most of their times watching over it, and not expecting their riders to go anywhere else. It was A'mor who found out about his addiction, and despite disapproving, only made sure to take more care of his friend. He guessed - correctly - that F'del would have withdrawn from him if he made him quit, but staying his friend despite the addiction was the best thing he could have done.
F'del found that Altith really did like the young egg more than he expected him to - the dragon barely moved from it's side unless he insisted he go eat. It was surprising to him, but the easy-going man didn't really mind it, and allowed him the freedom he wanted. It wasn't until they were watching young Pink Alyenth Hatch that F'del thought Altith might not stop at the young Hatchlings from there. The purple nagged him so much that he finally went to the Weyrlingmaster and asked if he needed help - something he was granted instantly. And F'del found that he, as well as Altith, enjoyed working with the younger Weyrlings, enough that they were promoted to one of the younger Assistant Weyrlingmaster's.
Nothing really happened for a turn after that, until just after his nineteenth birth day - when he received a letter that his mother was sick. For the first time, F'del went back to his little Cothold, and stayed there for almost a full season before his mother passed away. It was during this time that he began to meet all of the various family he had ignored, and many of the younger - now older - kids that he had once upon a time baby-sat. He had become an uncle by blood - and not - and the young man found himself relaxing muscles that he hadn't known had grown tight.
He also found that he had a brother. His father had died nearly five years ago, at a time when he was still a Weyrling and unable to leave. It had turned out his mother had given found out about Eacchiussper, and raised the young babe while his sister took over the title of Lady. Now, with her gone, they asked if he was able to raise him, as his sisters were raising their own children or off. He agreed - reluctantly - and Eacchiussper came back to live with him. It was tough. The rugged boy turned out to be a troublemaker, and on top of Assistant Weyrlingmaster duties, Wing practices, and Altith, it proved to be a little much.
A'mor, in a way, also helped. The young man had a little sister, a year younger than Eacchiussper, and she had come to live with him just as she turned 10. Sper was an idol to her and, so although they got into doubly more trouble, he had someone to fall back on as the two just-out-of-teenagers struggled to raise two children together. So, he and Altith struggled through life the best they could, enjoying the bountiful life. It was fine, they had just celebrated 20 years together and he was looking upon his 32 birthday with dread – he was getting old! – when Altith turned to him and patiently explained that he was bored.
This whole fiasco ended up, in the end, with most of his weyr on Altith’s back, Sper settled mutinously on – he didn’t want to leave Southern and Anima – and a transfer to Dalibor Weyr. Let’s see what mischief this will turn out, hm?
Dragon Name;;
Altith
Dragon Age;;
Summer of the 177th Turn in the 10th Interval,
19 Turns.
Dragon Color;;
Purple
Dragon Length;;
39 ft.
Dragon Personality;;
Take a child diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyper Disorder and feed him all the sugar he wants. Then put him in a room with brightly colored objects and shiny things, and tell him he can't touch anything. Let him go. Watch what happens.
That child is Altith.
The first thing you notice about the Purple is that he never stands still. He doesn't even like sunning for too long, finding more fun in gamboling around on the Bowl floor or dancing through the clouds. He tends to be more independent than other dragons, flying solo - though he gets worried when the connection is stretched too much. Just the presence of His is enough for him - he doesn't have to actually see the man to know that he is there. When forced to stay in one place he never will hold perfectly still, always finding something to move or something to chatter about.
The good qualities of the Purple are numerous - he's just a loving, sweet boy. With patience to deal with the young `Brats, he will often times fly down and allow the young funny things to play and clamber on him, and the Lower Cavern worker's back at Southern knew him to be a very careful guardian. He also loves the babies of the fuzzy things, often times getting His to adopt those strays around. At Southern they had quite a collection of half-grown creatures in the Weyr, and Altith enjoyed every second of it. The thing he loves the most though, almost as much as His, are the young dragonets. Hatchings are his all time favorite things, and when a clutch is laid he will often times come over to visit. Most of the dragoness's, thankfully, had gotten used to the childlike antics and allowed him to peer in without clawing his eyes out. The teaching of them was a favorite past time to, coaxing the brash dragons to slow down and trying to make the bonds tighter between the brand new pairs.
He is as curious as a young feline, constantly out and about. With questions about everything and new schemes coming up, he knows that His will generally follow along with the adventures - whether it is trying to dig up a tunnelsnake burrow or going fishing, he enjoys having a good time and sharing the stories afterwards. The worst part about this is that he hates being bored. When shut up and not allowed to go places, Altith gets grumpy and snappish, a stark contrast from the happy bouncy dragon of before.
He tends to have his own little world in which the world is much different from what it really is like. First are his own names for things - everything has a name. Humans tend to be funny things, animals with fur are fuzzy things, any type of food is num-nums, and the list goes on and on. It's up to F'del to try and decide what he is actually talking about, though he's not sure whether the dragon isn't telling him to be funny or he really just doesn't think about them in the proper manner. It's why F'del is often irked when the dragon talks to people - as he has a habit of doing, because those around him don't understand what he is talking about.
His world is all rainbows and happiness, and he loves to see everyone else happy. A crying young-funny thing? Well, that won't do! He has to drag His over and work on cheering her up. Altith knows that when they smile, they look better, and tears bother him more than death does. He's very intelligent about some things, and knows more than those around give him credit for, but tends to ignore common sense and act on his first whim. He trusts everything, child-like in that aspect, never seeing the bad in anyone. He almost refuses to, convinced that anything and anyone has just made a mistake - they will fix it, and that will be that. Of course, when he finally realizes that a person is not as good as he thought - the ripping of a child's innocence is never pretty, and Altith tends to get slightly irritated.
The Purple does know what he looks like - oddly colored and looking too much like an underfed canine. About his looks he tends to be self conscious, especially around females, but works hard on not showing it. He likes the wing size though, seeing nothing wrong. He has a chivalrous attitude, believing that females are delicate creatures that should be treated like a special flower. He doesn't ever waste his time on one lady - no one has ever caught his eye like that. He enjoys complimenting them, and making them feel pretty. He is tactless, saying the first thing that comes out his mind and making it a point not to lie, but thankfully this is where the sees the best in everyone works out.
Dragon Appearance;;
;;Body Type;;
An almost femininely delicate physique, the Purple reminds one of a greyhound, with a lean rangy form built for speed. Rather than losing in height, he is merely more slender than most, though he does not lack strength as a result. He is lithe in figure, nearly resembling a serpent of the seas, providing him with great agility in the air. His long legs and neck match this overall appearance. What is peculiar about his form is his wings. Unfolded, they are too big for his body, stretching out nearly half as long as the rest of his color. Unfortunately, they give the otherwise handsome dragon a gangly under-grown look, which, were he of any other temperament, might bother him.
;;Coloring;;[/u]
This Sub-King's coloring matches his personality to the T. In kinder people's words, it is unique. To those blunt enough or who know the pair, queer. Altith's base color is a creamy light purple, just a shade darker than lavender. It is a smooth color, not bright and not excessively shimmery, and unlike others does not lighten on his underbelly. Over this color is various taints, of amethyst, amaranthine, mauve, violet, plum, orchid, mauve, and magenta, blotching and smudging the complexion in no order what-so-ever. In swirls and thick slashes, dots and nicks, the color stains his body, neck, and tail, making him look as though he had been rolling around in berry bushes for hours. As he spreads out his wings, the coloration continues, but grows much thicker. In the various bursts of color that brand his hide, they become so numerous on his wings that the beginning color is barely visible, with the tips completely covered and stained almost ebony. His head and face to are colored slightly different. The base color is lighter on his head, so pale a purple that from a distance it can be passed as white. Here, it looks like someone has taken a bottle of rich dark wine and upended it over his head, drizzling down and over his muzzle, dripping down large shining eyes and slowing into thin trickles as it reaches the end on a tapered nose.
;;Movement;;
Despite his rather irregular look, his movements are nothing like it. He moves like a liquid, a smooth fluent creature both on land and in the air. Altith has a way of moving with a feline grace on the ground, rangy and succulent, much like a content predator. But it is nothing to when he takes to the skies. There, his bizarre coloring means nothing - the King is speed. A streamlined sailboat with all canvas piled into the zephyr, the greyhound races through the skies, and the aerodynamic creature becomes the tempest. His stamina is surprisingly good, for as soon as he found his wings the Purple did nothing but live in the skies, a tumbling jester for the birds as he reveled in the essence of what he does best.
Dragon History;; In Southern Weyr, Orange Layath Rose for the second time, proudly accepting the challengers. Bronze Dledth, her usual mate, was expected to catch her. But from nowhere, young Brown Nsyavth shoved ahead, snatching her from the air. From this union Layath laid her biggest clutch yet - 6 gleaming eggs shone brightly from under her jealous claws.
Inside an obnoxiously happy pink and yellow splattered shell, Altith knew something was happening. But did he care? You bet your last dollar he didn't! The young Purple was a little cramped, but paid no mind to the discomfort. Outside the shell was a faint hum, and he sat and listened to it for a moment. It was a very nice tune. Humming along with the melody, he began to rock his body back and forth in time to the sound. But wait! When he moved, his egg moved! Forgetting the music in an instance, he tested his theory out, pushing at first one wall, and then the other. Look at it move! The entertainment of it all astounded him, and he spent ages pushing it around and seeing what he could do with it.
Thankfully, too much exertion on one thing and the already fragile casing cracked. His next quiver was a gentle headbutt - he liked being upside down! - and right through the wall he fell! With a chirp, curiosity replaced the sadness his toy had broken and he shoved his head out farther into this new world to look around. This world was very confusing - everything seemed to be sideways! Pulling his head back in the shell, he flexed out a large paw carefully, cracking the shell there, and knocking out another piece of his head hole. The head back out, he tried to unfold himself like he knew he had to - this world was so big! - and managed to break through the rest of the shell. But he was now lying on the sands, and with a happy hum that was off key, the Purple shook himself to his feet.
Wide eyes looked around, his head spinning around so fast it looked as though he might get whiplash, the Purple let out a happy chuff and toddled forward on new legs, straight to the Orange Queen. She had been sitting back on her hind legs, her wings half unfurled as she watched her last son. Altith stopped for just a moment to look at her, and then with a happy creel bounded up in the air and back around the other way, a sprightly young fellow.
Of course, he fell, but that didn't bother him at all as he wandered back towards his egg, going over carefully to sit down right where the shattered remains were. Happily nosing one of the shining pieces, he never seemed to stay quiet as he did so. Pushing with paw and nose, the young creature seemed quite content to sit and test out his vocal chords as he pawed his new toys. Thankfully for the waiting people, Layath was not a patient dragon, and with an unhappy growl she rose to walk over and swat the dragonet towards the males. Altith tumbled head over heels, but rolled with the punch and doggedly straightened out unused limbs, grinning draconically. The Queen eyed the Purple, then stomped back over to take her seat again.
A new feeling distracted him from following the Queen, even as he turned to jump on her tail. A funny hollow feeling in his stomach - he was hungry! An unhappy creel this time, the Purple scanned his surroundings and decided that perhaps His would come and find him now. But maybe His did not see him? Wings unfurled up over his head, wings that nearly were the size of him and unbalanced the young creature. He fell over, but struggled gamely to his feet and took a few steps towards the males - only to fall over his wings again as they flapped and folded as if they had a mind of their own.
MineOwn, I would like to point out that this is terribly embarrassing and I would truly prefer if you would come out from where you were hiding among the funny things to come find your Altith?[/color] Even as he called out to His, he tried to take a few steps forward and fell on his face - but he didn't give up. And perhaps bring something that would make me not feel so empty. Are you coming to fix my sails and talk to me, F'del?
From the crowd of funny looking things broke a young man who was shaking and making noises come out of his throat. Laughter, Altith knew somehow. You laugh, MineF'del? The young man shook his head as he reached the purple, reaching out to touch his Bonded as the pale head shoved up to nuzzle him. "At you, Alti. What are you doing?" The Purple grinned up at His. I was trying to find you, SillyMine! But now I have, so everything is alright. "Alti. I found you." No, F'delMine. I found you. "Suit yourself."
Thus the terror known as Altith was released into the world. He was lucky His was as patient as he was, for the young Purple turned out to be quite a handful. If not for the patience and complete adoration of F'del, the boy might have gone insane.
Altith loved Weyrling lessons. He was a smart dragon, but pushed the old Weyrlingmaster's to the limit as he asked questions and generally got distracted with the butterfly over there or tiny bug at his feet. He was a dragon that never had a bad word to say about any of his Clutchsiblings, and believed that everyone was as happy and hyper as he was. From trying to find what was under the Headwoman's skirt to begging tidbits from the kitchen workers, the Purple did it all. He couldn't have had a mean bone in his body as he slowly went through the Weyrling years, often telling jokes and pulling tiny pranks on people to make them smile. As often told His, When they smile they look nicer. He didn't have much opinion of those funny looking things.
He had no problem talking to others. In fact, anyone that would even look at him suddenly had a chatty dragon, and he found that F'delHis would often ask him to not startle those not used to voices in their head.
F'delMine, I am going to go over there. The young man only nodded, laying out on his back in a secluded corner of the Bowl. "Just don't get into any trouble, please. And don't touch anything." There was no assurance received, but F'del was used to that by now. The uniquely colored purple snuffled along through the grass, keeping His in sight but generally capering around to his own whim. He did not understand His's idea that laying in the bright autumn was more fun than playing in it, but he would not argue. Growling and making the general odd noise, he snuffled his way through the grass, over to the simple fence that the wherry's were kept in. He had no interest in eating, but perhaps he could play with one for awhile...
Of course, he found something more interesting. A young funny thing was standing just inside the fence, watching the wherry. His eyes whirling a brighter color, the Purple slipped up behind her and gently nosed her through the fence, asking, What are you doing? With a scream that hurt, the girl shot off over the fence and over him, looking about wildly and flailing. 'What? Who?' She caught a glimpse of His lying there, and then glanced at him for a second before marching over and giving him a swift kick in the side. His was caught unexpected and let out a soft puff of air, shooting up to look at her.
"What?" The woman folded her hands on her hips to shoot him a deadly glare. 'What was the bright idea, throwing something at me?' The half-grown Altith tumbled over to tell her brightly, F'delMine did not throw anything at you! I wanted to make a friend! At which the girl let out a coo and did one of those female funny thing's melt. 'Awww! You are so cute! But you shouldn't lie for your immature friend, sweetie. Boys are just no good.' And she proceeded to swoon over Altith for the rest of their break, and give him a nice eyeridge scratch.
I liked her, F'delMine! His was walking as though he was an old funny thing, grumpily throwing glares back at the girl in the wherry pen. She kicked me! For something I didn't do! The Purple nosed him gently and then capered ahead. It is all right, Mine. I told her that you did not do anything, and she forgave you! His only shook his head and shambled towards the Healers. She did not, you goof. She thought I was making you lie or something. The dragon was adamant. No! She forgave you. She was very nice. A sigh. Fine, whatever you say. But please stop talking to people when you first meet them?
The most memorable time in Altith's life was when he found the skies. He can still recall that feeling, and the memories are there - faded - but there. He still feels that way as he opens his wings to take to the sky, but the first time was the most memorable.
The lesson is called! Hurry, F'delMine! The young man laughed at his Purple, but moved no faster. "Heart, we are the first ones out. I'm sure I can walk at my own pace." The Purple sneezed at him, rushing over to bowl into the back of his knees and try to push. A half grown dragon was enough that His stumbled forward more than a few feet and nearly fell before regaining his balance. "Was that necessary?" The Purple sniffed him over, worry evident, until F'del began to laugh again. "I'm fine. Come on, we have a lesson."
Old Brown Carnogth viewed the six dragonets and their riders with slowly spinning eyes. All right, young flappers. We learn to fly today. I want to see you take off from the ground, practicing the glide you worked on, and make it up in the air for more than three seconds. Rider's, watch your dragon's for muscle strain, and guide them for a touch down in the lake if they seem to have trouble landing on the ground. Altith was so excited the was practically jumping up and down. Mine, Mine, we will be FIRST! A lazy hand in the air, and a nod from the Weyrlingmaster the pair were ready to go. A hand on the dragon's shoulder, and then F'del stepped back as Altith rushed ahead. The wings that he usually kept folded because he tripped over them otherwise extended, and the air lifted him up as a few strong wingbeats shoved him forward.
And then... Altith was in the air, and none of the gangly clumsy Purple remained. All there was was air and the warm thermal he glided on, and with a triumphant bugle the Purple proudly showed off what he did best. On the ground F'del was running to keep up, whooping and yelling, and he knew that His was so proud of him! Of course, he landed in the lake and almost drowned himself trying to fold his wings back up, but the air - it was perfect.
Altith realized that he liked girl dragons when he was about a turn and a half. It was a slow thing, but the happy-go-lucky dragon turned around one day and saw that the girl's were so much more fun than the boys! Of course, he made friends. Using the charming tongue he had in his head and the general innocence he flirted and charmed many of the young Greens, Pinks, and Yellows. F'del generally watched on with a parent's smile, and did what he always did - ignore it. It was the fall of Altith's second turn when he wished he had paid a little more attention.
Gray Noyth Rose - and Altith Chased. The gamboling Purple had spent several sevenday's worming his way through the haughty Gray's wall, and spent the entire chase taking the thing like a huge joke, cavorting in front of her and being his natural self. Noyth allowed him to Fly her, and Altith became a proud father of one little egg on the sands.
MINE MINE MINE! COME LOOK AT THE BABY! A weary sigh, but F'del looked up from the small gitar and walked over to peer down at his Purple crouched excitedly next to the pretty sky blue egg. Darling, has it moved at all? The Purple didn't even look up at His. No. But isn't it pretty? His made a funny noise, and went back over to sit with Noyth's. "I don't know what he is going to do when it hatches." The rider laughed, stretching out and propping his head against the warm stone of the Hatching Grounds. 'Noyth say's that she enjoys having Altith around. She can go eat without worrying.' His snorted. "It's true." From under the ledge, Altith pointed out I do like the little egg though, Mine. Immediately His was soothing him. And that's wonderful, dearheart. We are just teasing - I'm very proud of you.
Altith started the eager hum that aroused Southern Weyr as the egg began to rock, a sevenday later. Proudly watching his little Pink daughter hatch, Altith turned to F'del and said, quite seriously, I like the little ones Mine.
For turns and turns after this F'del and Altith relaxed at Southern Weyr, enjoying the plentiful life. Altith found that he liked the young dragonet's so much that he nagged His into volunteering with the classes, helping teach whenever the chance arose. They lived and grew wise... Until one day Altith told His that he was bored, and that he was quite ready to go live someplace else now. A bit surprised at the change, nonetheless His went to the Weyrwoman and asked a transfer to the new Weyr. There was sure to be plenty of interesting things there for a hyper Purple!
//Word Count: 9717[/blockquote][/size]
