Post by jones on Mar 26, 2009 15:20:16 GMT -5
NAME
Axenar [A'nar]
GENDER
Male.
AGE
Eighteen, almost nineteen.
SEXUALITY
Bisexual.
LOCATION
Dalibor Weyr.
RANK
Dragon candidate.
PERSONALITY
He's thorny by nature, abrasive by habit—it's nearly impossible for him to "play nice", as he was told as a child. He always has to go and say the unspeakable, to point out the flaws in the artwork at hand. His mind is analytical, perhaps too much so, and critiquing the world and people around him comes as naturally as breathing. He holds those around him to high standards, but to be fair, he pushes himself to the same heights: he weighs and judges his every action and knows his overlong list of flaws better than he knows the back of his own hand. (Ironically, it doesn't seem to help him when it comes time to shut his mouth and smile.) When he doesn't measure up, he tortures himself over it for sevendays: that said, he manages some level of confidence outside of these periods of self-flagellation, and has no problem recognizing his strengths.
His stay at the Weyr has, if anything, aggravated these prickly tendencies. Although he has only spent a short time in Dalibor, he is growing frustrated and—to compound the needly bundle of self-doubt at his core—insecure, beginning to doubt whether he even has the capacity for Impression. Although he's loath to admit it, he's starting to think that even dragons find his company odious, and it's this thought that haunts him further into insomniac nights more than any human loneliness.
Despite his disagreeable disposition, his temper is quite sedate, and only shows itself on certain occasions. One such criterion for his anger is when he feels his privacy has been violated: an introvert at heart, he places a disproportionate value on matters he considers personal, and is liable to react hotly to any intrusion on them. He tends not to speak of himself, and answers most questions about his past even more curtly than usual. It's not that he has anything to hide—it's just that he doesn't have any reason to share. Similarly, he is wont to lash out when he feels he has made a mistake. It's almost an issue of hypersensitivity: he has already rubbed himself raw on the inside over his flaws, so even the slightest touch may set him off.
Despite his imperfections, Axenar is of a level-headed and reliable temperament. One of his greatest virtues is his sound judgment: he's quick on his feet when it comes to it, logically-minded even when under stress, and capable of a great many things when he puts his mind to them. His first impulses (in all but social matters) are generally sound, and he behaves with according alacrity. Although this can sometimes lead to overconfident mistakes in judgment, those occasions are uncommon; he rarely allows himself to make the same mistake twice. When pushed into a decision which has caused him trouble in the past, he grows hesitant, reluctant to make the wrong choice.
Although he is of a slightly reclusive temperament, he is fairly neutral toward people in general: while he doesn't go out of his way to seek either, he doesn't mind company or conversation—after all, he's not the one who comes out sore. His opinions are quite constant, and he generally doesn't change his opinion of someone from the time he meets them. This means that he is both loyal in his friendship and dogged in his prejudice: in the latter case, he can grow almost cruel in his spite, wielding the barbed tongue nature granted him to his own advantage for once in his life. However, among the few friends he retains Axenar can be trusted to provide an honest opinion and a reassuring word, when it's the truth. He sees things in frank terms, and is always willing to point out the upsides of a situation along with the down.
Romantically, he's never been skillful. While he has feelings for members of both sexes, he tends to make excuses to avoid entanglement, pointing out the individual's flaws and eventually convincing himself it would never work. In his heart, he knows it's all wherry-shit, but he's never felt quite confident enough to risk rejection by making a move. He's only just starting to grow out of these tendencies—not that he's had any practice lately, mind you.
APPEARANCE
Axenar is neither a wallflower nor a crowd-stopper. Although his appearance is distinct from the norm, the difference is a matter of shades. There's nothing truly shocking about the composition or coloration of his features; it's only with time that the distinctions make themselves known. Naturally, the hue of his skin is darker than average, and is further browned by countless turns spent in sunshine—it's watery klah to milk and honey. The almost nutty tone of his skin offsets the rest of his otherwise normal features: his resinous amber eyes, outlined by medium-dark lashes, have a faintly orange cast in comparison. Similarly, through a quirk of genetics his hair is not dark enough to pose a direct contrast to his skin tone; the thin, wafty lengths of it are a few shades deeper, but otherwise quite unsurprising. The stuff grows like weeds, and he has to cut it frequently lest it grow even more unmanageable—it usually remains in an airily tousled state, sticking up here and there, despite his vain attempts to corral it. His facial hair grows just as quickly, and he sometimes jokes that he has a late-day shadow before he's even eaten his lunch. He prefers to stay clean-shaven, although it's a losing effort.His face itself is rounded, with prominent bone structure: his cheekbones and jaw are delineated sharply through the skin, both regular in their proportion and bold in their figure. His nose is an unremarkable centerpiece, nostrils widened and tip upturned as if with a capricious flick of the genetic brush. His eyebrows are thick and his brow almost straight, and generally they remain as such, with only the occasional frown to wrinkle them. The real emphasis on his face falls on his eyes; serious and ambiguous, they attract curiosity.
Axenar is not physically imposing, standing a little above five-foot-ten and filling out the frame sparely. He yet has the gawk and gangle of adolescence about him, although signs say he's just beginning to outgrow it—the accretion of muscle around his torso to fill his just-broadening shoulders, the closing adjustments of his body to its final dimensions. He has the stance, the bearing of a worker about him—it's clear from his calloused hands and stringy sinew as well as from the well-worn manner of his movement, like turns of action have worn comfortable ruts in the movements of his body.
FAMILY / PETS
Uman—His father, a Journeyman Herder for whom Axenar has honed sharp anger over the turns since his remarriage. His son felt out of place in the idyllic new family Uman constructed, and most of the contact they have had since Axenar left for Dalibor has been awkward at best.
Moraine—
His mother. She floated in and out of their household throughout his early childhood for months at a time, and was unpredictable from what he remembers. They had an impersonal relationship; he was less than devastated when she shacked up with a young Harper and left.
Herina—
His step-mother. Axenar sees her in a number of colorful terms, none of them affectionate, and has no qualms about letting her know it.
Senala and Nerah—
His younger sisters, twins. They are not close, due to their age difference, and he can't find it in himself to grow terribly protective over them. The girls are enigmas to him, and he doesn't try to understand or relate to them. His distaste for their mother does not help their case.
HISTORY
Born into Bitra Hold, Axenar's earliest memories are of a state of familial limbo: although he was too young to understand it at the time, he latently understood the frictions that heated his parents' brief relational tenure. During the spells in which his mother, Moraine, was absent, he always found the world less turbulent: there was no bickering and fighting to distract from the forging of imaginary blades or the rescue of imaginary Holder's daughters. When she finally left—gone with that bastard Harper, he remembers his father muttering that day—his world simply reduced in scope and complexity.He and his father, Uman, lived alone for some time; as one of the only Journeyman Herders in the Hold, there was never a lack of need for his services, and he provided well for the small family. He provided as close to an idyllic childhood for his son as he could, given that he had no other family on whom to dote—a circumstance he never saw fit to explain to his son, but that Axenar assumes had to do with his tumultuous affair with Moraine. Most of young Axenar's days were spent playing with neighborhood children and otherwise causing mischief, and although he was still just a child, Axenar enjoyed his simple life in the Hold. He was far from pleased when their household expanded to include a middle-aged Weaver by the name of Herina; in his eyes, she was when everything changed.
Uman had always been bitter toward his erstwhile and wayward lover, Moraine, and had no problem detailing this to his young son, especially after her departure. Axenar was shocked by the depth of the affection his father held for Herina so soon after the last embers of his relationship with Moraine were extinguished, and he could never fully understand it. Not long after he realized his father's attachment to her, he began to notice that the totality of the affection he had previously felt was sapping away slowly. When he was a little over twelve, Herina gave birth to twin daughters, and Axenar's status as "the other child" was sealed. He did not overlook any of this and nursed the concomitant resentment for turns.
(It should be mentioned that at least some of this neglect was a product of his imagination: however, perception shapes reality, and he could never shake the feelings of inferiority and rejection no matter how hard he tried. His stepmother never wished him any ill will, and his father never turned his back on him completely: but in the self-centered way that children have, he exaggerated and shielded himself with it. As a matter of fact, to this day, he strains and strives to sift out any and all imperfection—wonder where it started?)
Despite his growing dissatisfaction, Axenar never stopped trying to remain close to his father. He entered the Herder crafthall as an apprentice at a young age, and gradually grew in skill and competence throughout the turns: he was content with it, even if the only reason he went into the craft was at his father's behest. He even went along with relatively few complaints when his father announced they were moving to the newest Hold, Western; for once in his life, he bit his tongue.
Shortly thereafter, the previously straight and narrow pathway of his life took an unexpected turn, when at eighteen he found himself pulled out of a crowd as one of those selected as candidates. Although he only scarcely knew what he was getting himself into, Axenar never looked back in his decision to come to Dailbor, and barely even realized the depth of his family's pride for him when he left.
DRAGON PREFERENCE
I think Axenar would work interestingly with a dragon of a similar temperament—A'nar, now with half the letters and twice the prickle!—as well as one more mellow. I have a pretty open mind about the whole thing, so no preference, really!
