Istan Weyrling on Dragonsfire MOO
Logs
Keshith's page
<<Oooh you mean I get my own?>>
A semi-tall young young man standing just under six feet in height. His once long blonde hair has been cut short, but has just started to grow back and is a bit shaggy-looking, occasionally a lock will fall down and into his face, but then he'll brush it back behind his ear with his hand. His eyes are a deep green colour bordering on emerald. The rest of his face is very defined with pronounced cheekbones up to his ears and a strong, dimpled chin. He is fairly thin, but not overly so with well developed muscles in his arms, legs, and chest. He carries himself well, holding a stance that is almost commanding in it's form and when he speaks in his bass-baritone voice, it is in a similarly powerful tone, which is decieved only by his easy going manner which we have all grown to love (unless you don't him and then well, just trust me).
Bouncy and bright, this rotund little fellow is all exuberance and jolly demeanor. Fragile wingsails, tinted sienna, stretch from his rather outsized body. Hide the color of bittersweet chocolate enshrouds his form, shading to a pale tan on his soft underbelly, and nearly to dark chocolate on his haunches. Tiny tan claws rake the sand lightly, and the end of his chocolatey tail twitches restlessly. Eyes sparkling with mischief twinkle in his head.
Sofrehn
Purplish blue, almost inky indigo, coats the smooth hide of this whip-lithe flit. Evenly colored, with no alteration in shade on any appendage, it seems almost as though he could have been dipped in paint of deepest violet. But as you look closer, you notice thin bands of varying color encircling his large, whirling eyes. Starting at a slightly paler shade of blue, the bands progress through the spectrum, making a seeming sundog around each turbulent socket. His wings are large and delicate, spreading sheets of midnight blue. Eash limb is long and rippling with muscular strenth, while his ever-twitching tail writes invisible unknowns in the air, long works of flowing flit literature. Mostly inclined to silence, he rarely makes so much as a chirrup, letting his eyes and limbs and eloquent tail do all the talking.
Wardrobe:
Normal everyday wear:
He is clad in fresh clean clothes. His tunic is in the sexy orange and black colors of Ista Weyr and fits him loosely. A wher-hide belt holds up his trousers, which though not as clean as his tunic, have the same loose, comfortable fit as the tunic. His boots are old, but well-broken in and covered with the dust of Pern's roads. One of the toes looks patched over and his soles don't match.
Hatching Robe:
White, white, and white, upon first glance, he is wearing your typical Candidate's Robe, a hole for the head, two arms, and a corded belt about his waist. Further inspection reveals it to be just that, a simple candidates robes of only the finest inexpensive white material alloted to the candidates, who knows what it had been before becoming a candidate's robe. But that's all behind it, as it is now merely a simple white robe, which fits him quite uniquely, being rather short about the legs, and exposing most of his shins and the arms, the left in particular being exceptionally long so that only the very tips of the fingers on his left hand are visible. The right arm is a bit better, most of his hand is able to be seen. On his feet are a pair of sandels, which serve to boost his height a good two inches, putting him over six feet high, yes, these are platform sandals, the latest in hatching sandal technology designed to keep him high off the hot sands of the hatching ground.
Weyrling work clothes:
His clothes are old and in many places torn. What was once a nice white tunic has become a mess of dirty colours from dirt, sweat, and other 'unnamables.' His pants are similar, worn and well worn at that and covered in the same series of substances as the tunic. The smell rising off of them is no doubt unbearable to many, but he seems to take little notice of it, or merely says nothing about it. His sleeves are rolled up to expose oft times dirty arms. His boots are also old, one sole not quite matching the other and even more dirt and muck covered than the rest of him.
Weyrling knot:
Three cords twine together to form this knot, being fairly simple in design as is standard for his position as weyrling at Ista Weyr. Two of the cord are of Ista's colours, black and orange, and the third is brown for the colour of his dragon.
History:
Phredrik was born with his twin brother Lehnyn at High Reaches Hold where his father is posted as a Master Tailor. They grew up among foster brothers and sisters including their cousin Suval, who would later leave for the Harper Hall. Phredrik and Lehnyn were both Searched at High Reaches on their twelfth Turnday. Phredrik quickly became a brat, having been given everything as a child and constantly being told of his great potential. When the Hatching finally came, each of the Eggs hatched, not even giving either him or Lehnyn a glance. The last egg hatched, a brown, and headed for them. Phredrik became desperate and stepped out in front of the creature, but it didn't want Phredrik and plowed through him to get to Lehnyn, carving a gash across Phredrik's chest. Phredrik was quickly taken to the weyr Healer and after recovering, he left the Weyr. Upon returning home, Phredrik's father insisted that he follow in his footsteps and become a tailor. Phredrik refused, craving the Weyr life and left home. He traveled across the northern continent over the next three Turns, but nevered stayed in one place for too long. One of his longer stays was in Half-Circle Sea Hold during his fifteenth Turn where he worked for several months as a fisherman. But that life was not for him and he left finally coming to Ista Weyr.
At Ista he met the person who would quickly become the love of his life, Sofina. He decided to stay at Weyr for good. Not that he gave up traveling. On an expedition back to the mainland to track down his cousin Suval, he came across a hatching clutch of firelizard's where he Impressed a brown and named it after his brother, Lehnyn. It wasn't long after that he and Sofina fell in love and he remained at the Weyr until he got word that his mother was sick. He quickly traveled home but collapsed not far from the High Reaches Weyr in the cold of the winter. A sweeps rider found him and brought him back to the weyr where he was reunited with his brother L'nyn. He stayed at the Hold through that winter caring for his mother, but in the Spring she began to recover and Phredrik returned to the Weyr and to his love.
The following Autumn nearly brought disaster for him as his Sofina was Searched, ending the relationship. Later, after drinking very heavily, Phredrik himself was Searched. But winter was coming and Phredrik's mother had taken ill again. Phredrik had planned a trip home, but Search ended his plans, or did they. Phredrik convinced his twin brother L'nyn to masquerade as Phredrik so he could sneak home and spend time with his mother. Phredrik returned to the Weyr, wondering just how much damage L'nyn had caused him, the extent of which still hasn't been revealed.
Recently he has been helping the proddy Bali paint her entire weyr pink and thus earned himself the nickname, the Pink Painter. Also he may have accidently painted Uliaryth pink as well, but she hasn't seemed to mind thus far (though what dragon in their right mind would want to fly a pink dragon is beyound me).
Well Phredrik did not Impress, but was Searched again at Ista for their next (PC) Hatching. He stood and stood and waited until finally a big clumsy looking brown found him and fixed his whirling gaze upon Phreddy's big emerald eyes uniting the pair forever. Phredrik became Ph'red and now has the busy task of taking care of his new Keshith.
Back to Selected Works