Post by Ceyra on Jun 17, 2006 18:38:12 GMT -5
Name: Ceyra
Contact Info:
How you heard of LW: ezboard communties
Rider Information
Name: J'zyn
Gender: Male
Age/Birthday: 16 First month, 2583
Orientation: heterosexual
Location: Lateo
Rank/Wing:WeyrlingMaster Kathrein's Weyrling Wing - Wingrider /Journeyman Smith(Jewelry craft)
Standing: Being a crafter and a holder, he doesn't believe in the conquering of them. He doesn't know much about the situation except what he has been taught in Weyrling class, and seen in the few Northerners that come to hold or weyr, so his mind isn't really set one way or another.
Family: Father - Journeyman Miner Arwan, 37 turns. Tall, dark haired with a neatly trimmed beard and a good heart, Arwan is a genial if sometimes gruff father. He loves his kids but doesn't pretend to understand his oldest boy, who doesn't resemble him physically at all. He hews in the heart of Pern, finding veins and directing one of the minor but very profitable hold mines.He knows alot about the underside of Pern, and passes much of that knowledge on to his children, whether they wish it or no.
Mother - MasterWeaver Najizyn, 36 turns. Slender and petite, Naji comes from a long line of weavers of Northern descent. She is fair haired, has a serious demeanor, and loving heart. She is constantly trying new dye combinations and fabrics, and as the oldest Jaizyn got to model an alarming number of these to the hold, much to his embarrassment occasionally.
Brothers - Rodjian 12 turns, Zan 5 turns: Rod is already outstripping his older brother in build and height. He takes after their father and has apprenticed to him as a miner. He is fair haired, but otherwise resembles pa. Zan is a tow headed, blue eyed dream. Quiet, but with a super bubbly personality, he has been taken under the hold harper's wing for some training. He has the voice of a chubby angel.
Sister - Zynnia, 8 turns. The only girl, and the light of her da's eyes. She is mother's primary helper since her apprentice walked the tables last year. She shows great potential, and a color flair that exceeds her mother's.
Pets: Green Flit Jade - Jade is the sole survivor of her nest.see history. She is a voracious eater, and hunter. She loves to present J'zyn with "gifts". Usually these take the form of a trudlebug, or some shiny rock or shell. Lately has been the odd earring, or other shiny objects....She has risen several times, in the way of the green. J'zyn has never caught her laying the eggs, but she always comes back, and never seems to give it a thought. A fact which both annoys and irritates her human. She is a light shade of green, streaked almost white-green on the thin wing membranes, hence her name.
Appearance: His hair is the deep blue-black of the raven's wing, slightly wavy but not overly thick, he wears it long, usually pulled back in thong colored to match his outfit. His eyes vary according his moods, deepest sapphire when passionate, grey when sad or angry, lightening to a sea blue when happy or mischievous, to a cold steel blue when truly mad. His build is slender, but his muscles are tight wire high tension cable strong. At 5'8, he lacks the stature of many of the other hold boys, but some few have met his fists and know him to be a true game cock, not just a show bird. Still, he is the pretty boy of the family, and his mother likes him to wear her lines as a walking advertisement. So he does, everything from fine gather clothes in various colors, to everyday work shirts, hunting and hacking apparel, to the clothes he keeps in the stable to change into when he wants to 'get away' from his peacock image.
He has delicate-looking, strong hands that can spin out an extremely fine wire of gold or silver with short, well kept nails. His body hair is very fine and sparse, what of it there is is dark and curly. His feet are similar to his hands, as he usually keeps them shod except when swimming. His fingers do have callouses from his craft, however. He has high cheekbones and a long, straight nose, eyelashes that are long, black and thick, and reasonable eyebrows. His mouth has been known to make certain hold girls swoon, when it smiles at them in just *that* way. His lips are sensuous, long and supple with a smile usually hovering close by.
Personality: He is a deep pool, not stagnant, but cool. He thinks things out, usually, before he acts, and is very deliberate in his actions. He has learned patience, and can assist the younger apprentices when they get stuck. He only just walked the tables before the Hatching, but his teachers found he was well liked among his peers at the smithy, and the younger ones often looked to him for advice on things. Perhaps this was because he would be honest with them, if he knew the answers, he would tell them if he could, if not, he would try to find out. He is one of only six apprentices total there, one to a journeyman or master of the various types of smith work.
By preference he is a loner, loving to hunt, track and be "one" with the forest. It allows him time to unwind from the sometimes harsh world of the hold, where he is often the butt of jokes for his almost feminine looks. His masculinity is often called into question, and his temper has been known to flair. Of late, he is getting it under control, and only raises an arched eyebrow at his would be taunters. They are beginning to not find him such wonderful game, and often take their bullying elsewhere. He has found this most intriguing development much to his advantage, and now he can even hold his own with the other hold boys his own age, as long as he doesn't mind being the occasional joke. All this has developed into a deep quietness within him, and he seems almost serene at times. As serene as a 15 turn old can be, anyway. His family sees him as a little strange, and his father wonders if he'll ever see grandchildren from the boy, but loves him as he is. He is smart, a little shy, has been known to become very arrogant to deal with the constant badgering he gets from being the dress up doll for his mothers fashions. He carries this off well, almost as if he were of the blood...
History: Born to a journeyman miner and his MasterWeaver wife in a large Southern hold, Jaizyn has acquired a vast knowledge of the mineral and floral wealth of Pern. He apprenticed to the jewelry maker in the main hold at 12, being of a slight and seemingly delicate build. His slender fingers are equally graceful at cutting gems, fashioning jewelry, or cleaning a kill. He seems like the ultimate city boy, dandified and 'sweet-tempered', wearing his mothers fine weaves with a graceful flair. But when he dresses for a hunt, or 'alone time', in his dark, worn leathers, he seems to blend right in with the jungle here in the South. He is a skilled bow hunter, and can carry a dressed deerlike animal several miles to camp if necessary. He is not wasteful, and looks down upon those that are. This tendency has earned him an undeserved reputation ot the hold of being 'light in the boots' by some of the rougher, blooded hold boys.
During his apprenticeship, he helped many of the others overcome things like homesickness, troubles outside of the smithhall, especially with the local holderboys, and a few times even set up dances for his fellow smiths at the gathers, since most of them were too shy, or too dense, to ask the girls on their own. His master is an old man, long into his mastery, and cranky, set in his ways. He was none too please when his young journeyman up and got himself Impressed. J'zyn helped his master to select another young apprentice who wouldn't balk at having to look after an old man.
Finding Jade: Lain in a warm bay, the eggs lay nestled snugly in the sand, the golden mother nearby, sunning. Out of the sun came a flurry of wherries. They flew down, and across the water to the side where the fire lizards were gathered. They bravely defended their nest, but the wherries were too many and too hungry. The eggs where being swept up in hardened talons, and the flits were taking a beating. Several fell to the talons of the much larger wherries, and soon, they were all driven off, and the wherries fell to the feast before them.
From a hill not far, a young holder had witnessed this travesty of nature, and he decided to even th odds a little. With a sure pull, he drew back on the long bow, with a keen flight hunting arrow nocked, and he sighted in on the closest of the wherries. He released the arrow, and the wherry fell to the beach, broken. Again and again the bow sang out, until most of the flock was hurt or down. As one, the remaining wherries took flight, and left the scene. Crawling down from the slight cliff, the boy surveyed the carnage before him. The scavengers would eat well tonight. He saw the broken shells, and wept inside for the lives of the beautiful little flits that would never live to see light.
Not being wasteful, he plucked the wherries, and gutted most of them, until he realized he would have to smoke the meat or lose most of it. He set up a small camp, and made drying racks from young saplings with a small hatchet. The fire he made was smoky, fruitwood used to fuel to give the meat a better taste. After he was settled in, he decided to search the area to see if he could scavenge some eggshell from the nest.
Among his searching, he found one egg, scratched, but still intact. He nestled it in his shirt, after wrapping it securely in wherried, and took it with him when he left. He carried the egg the three days back to the hold, and he set it carefully on the family hearth, in a small bucket of warm sand. He gave the wherry meat to his mother, and returned to his apprenticeship.
Each day, in early morn, and late eve before falling into bed, he would turn the little egg in it sand pot, and make sure it was ok. After several weeks, it hardened, and just as he returned from a long day at work, he heard the sound of shell breaking. Rushing to the hearth, he dug the shell up, and came up with a dark, wet form that had very sharp if tiny claws. It creeled pitifully, and he immediately put it to his chest, cradling it. He got up, and talking to it in soothing terms, he walked over to the table where his mother had left out his dinner. He pulled his belt knife out, and awkwardly cut up the meat with one hand. The wet little bundle in his other hand was creeling, and soon reached an ear splitting shriek. He gave, up, and set the flit on the table, putting a piece of tuber before her. It sank tiny fangs it and began ripping. it complained the whole time, mumbling as it ate and dried. That was when the boy realized it was tiny, perfect, green.
Dragon Information
Name: Zamyth
Color: Bronze
Age: 1 6 months born in 2599
Description: His skin has an underlying sheen of the darkest gold, there are dark bronze highlights that play in the light, especially when he's wet, sometimes he seems as if he should have been a gold, but nature played a trick on him. He is extremely graceful and very careful in his movements. While no bronze could truly be termed 'delicate', he gives a good run at it. The grace of his moves belies the great strength in his long limbs and variegated wings.
Personality: Young Zamyth is arrogant, distant and cool to other people and dragons. He is very full of himself, and is constantly threatening to eat little Jade, who pesters him mercilessly. He is deeply attached to his human, but sees most others as trouble, or proper if they admire him properly. His human is the only one that has seen his warmer side, actually. He is respectful, but thats about it. He is sure he's all that and a bag of tuber chips.
History:Impression: In the shadow of the great golden queen, slightly away from the other eggs and the foci of attention, was an unusually dark mottled and small egg. The general thought had been it was probably a still-born, but it grew like the others, slower, but surely, hardening and ripening for hatching. When the fateful day came, this egg was overshadowed by the others that hatched in such a flurry, and the excitement and commotion of Impression of the others. This middling sized dark bronze hatched unseen, shaking off the shell fragments, and getting clean, even as the hunger gnawed in his belly. He watched from the shadows as most of siblings hatched, tumbled and cried out for their soulmates to feed them. He thought it rather undignified, but said nothing, just watched. Even he scanned the candidates looking for his match. Not one among them would do, though they seemed a decent lot, just not for him. He craned his neck, using his paw to take a final piece of shell of his head, and looked around the audience. Where was he?
He came forward out of Shimeath's shadow, slightly to her surprise, and walked, graceful for a dragonling, wings tightly furled against his drying back, toward the candidates. He stopped short of them, and the flailing of his siblings, with a slightly haughty look of disdain. He swung his dark head back and forth, scanning for the *right* one. Shards, he thought, shaking his head, and he left the candidates gaping in surprise at his rejection of them. He headed toward the audience, peering among them for *him*, or would it be a her? Nah, no girls, after all, he was a bronze. He unfurled his wings, and reared back on his haunches, to balance and get a better look at the humans assembled for his hatching. He made a magnificent picture, the light reflecting off his dark golden bronze hide with the sun-gold highlights along his wings and neck, eyes a dark whirling blue, with just a hint of red beginning to show as he searched for his chosen. After almost a candlemark of looking over the assemblage, during which three of his siblings hatched, chose and waddled off to the feeding tables,he rejected the audience as well .
Irked, he stalked back over to the candidates, eyes turning ever more red with anxious anxiety and some anger. Then he saw one of the candidates talking to number of other humans. Two of them had ahold of the boy's arms, and they seem to be dragging him off while the boy argued. Zamyth watched this for a moment, then decided. No candidate at HIS hatching would be taken away. The long haired boy was losing the argument, and they other boys were taking him back out of sight. In fact, all of this had taken place out of sight of most of the crowd, not that their attention was on such goings on anyway, with so much action in the Sands. The bronze walked right off the Sands, a few heads, human and draconian following his progress.
"Come on Jaizyn, they have enough candidates, they don't need a clotheshorse whose not sure if he can even look straight at a girl." The tallest of the boys, Nurem, sneered at the dark haired candidate. Jaizyn tried to pull away, but their grip only tightened.
"What do you intend to do, Nurem? Huh? You and your pals here will be in hot water with the Weyrleaders if you don't let me go back." Jaizyn said, hoping it would be true, after all, didn't the leaders stand up for all the riders, even the potential ones? Nurem grimaced for a moment, a flash of unease crossing his handsome face, before it settled back into its accustomed sneer. "Who do you think sent us, lightfoot? Think they need another male greenrider?" He jeered at the slightly built candidate. Jaizyn pulled, but Thoedor's hold turned bruising and he stopped.
Katiyana sashayed up to Jaizyn, and ran a finger down the front opening of the loose white tunic. She gave a slow, simmering smile, and pouted sexily at him. Her hand slipped a little lower, and her eyes widened appreciatively. Jaizyn stood stock still, afraid to react, lest the boys had more than just a little at his expense in mind. His mind was reeling, and his skin heated up where she touched him, but he would not admit it. He knew how he felt about girls, and boys for that fact. But give them the satisfaction? Never. His jaw set in a determined manner, he stood firm, and refused to hauled any further without alot of fuss. Then he heard in his thoughts, a strangly deep male voice....
Jaizyn, why do not come to me and become my J'zyn? Go there and ignore me, the most excellent bronze ever, Zamyth? Get over here and feed me, human, for I grow weak with hunger from searching for you. To emphasize his point, the bronze hatchling fluttered his wings, and made fainting motions. The hold boys laughed and pointed at the dragon playing effeminate, even though they didn't know why, but it looked funny.
J'zyn looked poleaxed. He struggled harder to get away from his village 'friends' and managed to get one arm loose. The bronze hissed at Nurem, who had a worried look suddenly, as he heard in his head. Let go,human, before I eat you. The boy let loose of Jaizyn's arm so quickly one would think he'd been burned by it. Jaizyn hurried down to the side of the famished darkling dragon, much to the consternation of his companions, other boys from his hold, mostly highbloods. Katiyana grabbed at his sleeve, simpering, "Jaizyn, where do you think you're going? Come on back down here next to me, you luscious thing." the last part said in a near whispered bedroom voice. Jaizyn shuddered and pulled loose, "I have to go to my dragon." he said, to his amazement. The look on the others faces was priceless as he hurried from them, some gaped, some mottled with anger, a few looked envious, one even looked happy for him...that was the journeyman harper with them, Hazlet, who wouldn't begrudge anyone.
J'zyn came to the side of Zamyth, and the bronze dropped to all fours, settling his wings back to his sides, looking very composed and happy. The boy reached a hand to the elegant hand, and scratched the eyeridge above a serenely swirling left eye. Several lids came down as the bronze practically purred. Left and up slightly*the sigh was of an itch relieved. J'zyn wasn't sure what to do, but when he looked into the eyes of this dragonling, he knew he had found a place in the world.
He loves to swim, and long before he could fly, he and J'zyn would walk down to the river and swim against the currents.They had to prearrange their hunting trips, never to gone much more than overnight, but game was plentiful and J'zyn always had his bow, and oils, and they somehow came back looking sleek and well fed. These hunting trips has led him to preferring wild meat over that can be had in the herds at the Weyr. He keeps J'zyn busy, when other duties don't, hunting for him, until such day as he can hunt himself. Already he helps stalk game, his senses being so much more acute than his rider's.
Clutch: Shimeath and Azmoveth
Contact Info:
How you heard of LW: ezboard communties
Rider Information
Name: J'zyn
Gender: Male
Age/Birthday: 16 First month, 2583
Orientation: heterosexual
Location: Lateo
Rank/Wing:WeyrlingMaster Kathrein's Weyrling Wing - Wingrider /Journeyman Smith(Jewelry craft)
Standing: Being a crafter and a holder, he doesn't believe in the conquering of them. He doesn't know much about the situation except what he has been taught in Weyrling class, and seen in the few Northerners that come to hold or weyr, so his mind isn't really set one way or another.
Family: Father - Journeyman Miner Arwan, 37 turns. Tall, dark haired with a neatly trimmed beard and a good heart, Arwan is a genial if sometimes gruff father. He loves his kids but doesn't pretend to understand his oldest boy, who doesn't resemble him physically at all. He hews in the heart of Pern, finding veins and directing one of the minor but very profitable hold mines.He knows alot about the underside of Pern, and passes much of that knowledge on to his children, whether they wish it or no.
Mother - MasterWeaver Najizyn, 36 turns. Slender and petite, Naji comes from a long line of weavers of Northern descent. She is fair haired, has a serious demeanor, and loving heart. She is constantly trying new dye combinations and fabrics, and as the oldest Jaizyn got to model an alarming number of these to the hold, much to his embarrassment occasionally.
Brothers - Rodjian 12 turns, Zan 5 turns: Rod is already outstripping his older brother in build and height. He takes after their father and has apprenticed to him as a miner. He is fair haired, but otherwise resembles pa. Zan is a tow headed, blue eyed dream. Quiet, but with a super bubbly personality, he has been taken under the hold harper's wing for some training. He has the voice of a chubby angel.
Sister - Zynnia, 8 turns. The only girl, and the light of her da's eyes. She is mother's primary helper since her apprentice walked the tables last year. She shows great potential, and a color flair that exceeds her mother's.
Pets: Green Flit Jade - Jade is the sole survivor of her nest.see history. She is a voracious eater, and hunter. She loves to present J'zyn with "gifts". Usually these take the form of a trudlebug, or some shiny rock or shell. Lately has been the odd earring, or other shiny objects....She has risen several times, in the way of the green. J'zyn has never caught her laying the eggs, but she always comes back, and never seems to give it a thought. A fact which both annoys and irritates her human. She is a light shade of green, streaked almost white-green on the thin wing membranes, hence her name.
Appearance: His hair is the deep blue-black of the raven's wing, slightly wavy but not overly thick, he wears it long, usually pulled back in thong colored to match his outfit. His eyes vary according his moods, deepest sapphire when passionate, grey when sad or angry, lightening to a sea blue when happy or mischievous, to a cold steel blue when truly mad. His build is slender, but his muscles are tight wire high tension cable strong. At 5'8, he lacks the stature of many of the other hold boys, but some few have met his fists and know him to be a true game cock, not just a show bird. Still, he is the pretty boy of the family, and his mother likes him to wear her lines as a walking advertisement. So he does, everything from fine gather clothes in various colors, to everyday work shirts, hunting and hacking apparel, to the clothes he keeps in the stable to change into when he wants to 'get away' from his peacock image.
He has delicate-looking, strong hands that can spin out an extremely fine wire of gold or silver with short, well kept nails. His body hair is very fine and sparse, what of it there is is dark and curly. His feet are similar to his hands, as he usually keeps them shod except when swimming. His fingers do have callouses from his craft, however. He has high cheekbones and a long, straight nose, eyelashes that are long, black and thick, and reasonable eyebrows. His mouth has been known to make certain hold girls swoon, when it smiles at them in just *that* way. His lips are sensuous, long and supple with a smile usually hovering close by.
Personality: He is a deep pool, not stagnant, but cool. He thinks things out, usually, before he acts, and is very deliberate in his actions. He has learned patience, and can assist the younger apprentices when they get stuck. He only just walked the tables before the Hatching, but his teachers found he was well liked among his peers at the smithy, and the younger ones often looked to him for advice on things. Perhaps this was because he would be honest with them, if he knew the answers, he would tell them if he could, if not, he would try to find out. He is one of only six apprentices total there, one to a journeyman or master of the various types of smith work.
By preference he is a loner, loving to hunt, track and be "one" with the forest. It allows him time to unwind from the sometimes harsh world of the hold, where he is often the butt of jokes for his almost feminine looks. His masculinity is often called into question, and his temper has been known to flair. Of late, he is getting it under control, and only raises an arched eyebrow at his would be taunters. They are beginning to not find him such wonderful game, and often take their bullying elsewhere. He has found this most intriguing development much to his advantage, and now he can even hold his own with the other hold boys his own age, as long as he doesn't mind being the occasional joke. All this has developed into a deep quietness within him, and he seems almost serene at times. As serene as a 15 turn old can be, anyway. His family sees him as a little strange, and his father wonders if he'll ever see grandchildren from the boy, but loves him as he is. He is smart, a little shy, has been known to become very arrogant to deal with the constant badgering he gets from being the dress up doll for his mothers fashions. He carries this off well, almost as if he were of the blood...
History: Born to a journeyman miner and his MasterWeaver wife in a large Southern hold, Jaizyn has acquired a vast knowledge of the mineral and floral wealth of Pern. He apprenticed to the jewelry maker in the main hold at 12, being of a slight and seemingly delicate build. His slender fingers are equally graceful at cutting gems, fashioning jewelry, or cleaning a kill. He seems like the ultimate city boy, dandified and 'sweet-tempered', wearing his mothers fine weaves with a graceful flair. But when he dresses for a hunt, or 'alone time', in his dark, worn leathers, he seems to blend right in with the jungle here in the South. He is a skilled bow hunter, and can carry a dressed deerlike animal several miles to camp if necessary. He is not wasteful, and looks down upon those that are. This tendency has earned him an undeserved reputation ot the hold of being 'light in the boots' by some of the rougher, blooded hold boys.
During his apprenticeship, he helped many of the others overcome things like homesickness, troubles outside of the smithhall, especially with the local holderboys, and a few times even set up dances for his fellow smiths at the gathers, since most of them were too shy, or too dense, to ask the girls on their own. His master is an old man, long into his mastery, and cranky, set in his ways. He was none too please when his young journeyman up and got himself Impressed. J'zyn helped his master to select another young apprentice who wouldn't balk at having to look after an old man.
Finding Jade: Lain in a warm bay, the eggs lay nestled snugly in the sand, the golden mother nearby, sunning. Out of the sun came a flurry of wherries. They flew down, and across the water to the side where the fire lizards were gathered. They bravely defended their nest, but the wherries were too many and too hungry. The eggs where being swept up in hardened talons, and the flits were taking a beating. Several fell to the talons of the much larger wherries, and soon, they were all driven off, and the wherries fell to the feast before them.
From a hill not far, a young holder had witnessed this travesty of nature, and he decided to even th odds a little. With a sure pull, he drew back on the long bow, with a keen flight hunting arrow nocked, and he sighted in on the closest of the wherries. He released the arrow, and the wherry fell to the beach, broken. Again and again the bow sang out, until most of the flock was hurt or down. As one, the remaining wherries took flight, and left the scene. Crawling down from the slight cliff, the boy surveyed the carnage before him. The scavengers would eat well tonight. He saw the broken shells, and wept inside for the lives of the beautiful little flits that would never live to see light.
Not being wasteful, he plucked the wherries, and gutted most of them, until he realized he would have to smoke the meat or lose most of it. He set up a small camp, and made drying racks from young saplings with a small hatchet. The fire he made was smoky, fruitwood used to fuel to give the meat a better taste. After he was settled in, he decided to search the area to see if he could scavenge some eggshell from the nest.
Among his searching, he found one egg, scratched, but still intact. He nestled it in his shirt, after wrapping it securely in wherried, and took it with him when he left. He carried the egg the three days back to the hold, and he set it carefully on the family hearth, in a small bucket of warm sand. He gave the wherry meat to his mother, and returned to his apprenticeship.
Each day, in early morn, and late eve before falling into bed, he would turn the little egg in it sand pot, and make sure it was ok. After several weeks, it hardened, and just as he returned from a long day at work, he heard the sound of shell breaking. Rushing to the hearth, he dug the shell up, and came up with a dark, wet form that had very sharp if tiny claws. It creeled pitifully, and he immediately put it to his chest, cradling it. He got up, and talking to it in soothing terms, he walked over to the table where his mother had left out his dinner. He pulled his belt knife out, and awkwardly cut up the meat with one hand. The wet little bundle in his other hand was creeling, and soon reached an ear splitting shriek. He gave, up, and set the flit on the table, putting a piece of tuber before her. It sank tiny fangs it and began ripping. it complained the whole time, mumbling as it ate and dried. That was when the boy realized it was tiny, perfect, green.
Dragon Information
Name: Zamyth
Color: Bronze
Age: 1 6 months born in 2599
Description: His skin has an underlying sheen of the darkest gold, there are dark bronze highlights that play in the light, especially when he's wet, sometimes he seems as if he should have been a gold, but nature played a trick on him. He is extremely graceful and very careful in his movements. While no bronze could truly be termed 'delicate', he gives a good run at it. The grace of his moves belies the great strength in his long limbs and variegated wings.
Personality: Young Zamyth is arrogant, distant and cool to other people and dragons. He is very full of himself, and is constantly threatening to eat little Jade, who pesters him mercilessly. He is deeply attached to his human, but sees most others as trouble, or proper if they admire him properly. His human is the only one that has seen his warmer side, actually. He is respectful, but thats about it. He is sure he's all that and a bag of tuber chips.
History:Impression: In the shadow of the great golden queen, slightly away from the other eggs and the foci of attention, was an unusually dark mottled and small egg. The general thought had been it was probably a still-born, but it grew like the others, slower, but surely, hardening and ripening for hatching. When the fateful day came, this egg was overshadowed by the others that hatched in such a flurry, and the excitement and commotion of Impression of the others. This middling sized dark bronze hatched unseen, shaking off the shell fragments, and getting clean, even as the hunger gnawed in his belly. He watched from the shadows as most of siblings hatched, tumbled and cried out for their soulmates to feed them. He thought it rather undignified, but said nothing, just watched. Even he scanned the candidates looking for his match. Not one among them would do, though they seemed a decent lot, just not for him. He craned his neck, using his paw to take a final piece of shell of his head, and looked around the audience. Where was he?
He came forward out of Shimeath's shadow, slightly to her surprise, and walked, graceful for a dragonling, wings tightly furled against his drying back, toward the candidates. He stopped short of them, and the flailing of his siblings, with a slightly haughty look of disdain. He swung his dark head back and forth, scanning for the *right* one. Shards, he thought, shaking his head, and he left the candidates gaping in surprise at his rejection of them. He headed toward the audience, peering among them for *him*, or would it be a her? Nah, no girls, after all, he was a bronze. He unfurled his wings, and reared back on his haunches, to balance and get a better look at the humans assembled for his hatching. He made a magnificent picture, the light reflecting off his dark golden bronze hide with the sun-gold highlights along his wings and neck, eyes a dark whirling blue, with just a hint of red beginning to show as he searched for his chosen. After almost a candlemark of looking over the assemblage, during which three of his siblings hatched, chose and waddled off to the feeding tables,he rejected the audience as well .
Irked, he stalked back over to the candidates, eyes turning ever more red with anxious anxiety and some anger. Then he saw one of the candidates talking to number of other humans. Two of them had ahold of the boy's arms, and they seem to be dragging him off while the boy argued. Zamyth watched this for a moment, then decided. No candidate at HIS hatching would be taken away. The long haired boy was losing the argument, and they other boys were taking him back out of sight. In fact, all of this had taken place out of sight of most of the crowd, not that their attention was on such goings on anyway, with so much action in the Sands. The bronze walked right off the Sands, a few heads, human and draconian following his progress.
"Come on Jaizyn, they have enough candidates, they don't need a clotheshorse whose not sure if he can even look straight at a girl." The tallest of the boys, Nurem, sneered at the dark haired candidate. Jaizyn tried to pull away, but their grip only tightened.
"What do you intend to do, Nurem? Huh? You and your pals here will be in hot water with the Weyrleaders if you don't let me go back." Jaizyn said, hoping it would be true, after all, didn't the leaders stand up for all the riders, even the potential ones? Nurem grimaced for a moment, a flash of unease crossing his handsome face, before it settled back into its accustomed sneer. "Who do you think sent us, lightfoot? Think they need another male greenrider?" He jeered at the slightly built candidate. Jaizyn pulled, but Thoedor's hold turned bruising and he stopped.
Katiyana sashayed up to Jaizyn, and ran a finger down the front opening of the loose white tunic. She gave a slow, simmering smile, and pouted sexily at him. Her hand slipped a little lower, and her eyes widened appreciatively. Jaizyn stood stock still, afraid to react, lest the boys had more than just a little at his expense in mind. His mind was reeling, and his skin heated up where she touched him, but he would not admit it. He knew how he felt about girls, and boys for that fact. But give them the satisfaction? Never. His jaw set in a determined manner, he stood firm, and refused to hauled any further without alot of fuss. Then he heard in his thoughts, a strangly deep male voice....
Jaizyn, why do not come to me and become my J'zyn? Go there and ignore me, the most excellent bronze ever, Zamyth? Get over here and feed me, human, for I grow weak with hunger from searching for you. To emphasize his point, the bronze hatchling fluttered his wings, and made fainting motions. The hold boys laughed and pointed at the dragon playing effeminate, even though they didn't know why, but it looked funny.
J'zyn looked poleaxed. He struggled harder to get away from his village 'friends' and managed to get one arm loose. The bronze hissed at Nurem, who had a worried look suddenly, as he heard in his head. Let go,human, before I eat you. The boy let loose of Jaizyn's arm so quickly one would think he'd been burned by it. Jaizyn hurried down to the side of the famished darkling dragon, much to the consternation of his companions, other boys from his hold, mostly highbloods. Katiyana grabbed at his sleeve, simpering, "Jaizyn, where do you think you're going? Come on back down here next to me, you luscious thing." the last part said in a near whispered bedroom voice. Jaizyn shuddered and pulled loose, "I have to go to my dragon." he said, to his amazement. The look on the others faces was priceless as he hurried from them, some gaped, some mottled with anger, a few looked envious, one even looked happy for him...that was the journeyman harper with them, Hazlet, who wouldn't begrudge anyone.
J'zyn came to the side of Zamyth, and the bronze dropped to all fours, settling his wings back to his sides, looking very composed and happy. The boy reached a hand to the elegant hand, and scratched the eyeridge above a serenely swirling left eye. Several lids came down as the bronze practically purred. Left and up slightly*the sigh was of an itch relieved. J'zyn wasn't sure what to do, but when he looked into the eyes of this dragonling, he knew he had found a place in the world.
He loves to swim, and long before he could fly, he and J'zyn would walk down to the river and swim against the currents.They had to prearrange their hunting trips, never to gone much more than overnight, but game was plentiful and J'zyn always had his bow, and oils, and they somehow came back looking sleek and well fed. These hunting trips has led him to preferring wild meat over that can be had in the herds at the Weyr. He keeps J'zyn busy, when other duties don't, hunting for him, until such day as he can hunt himself. Already he helps stalk game, his senses being so much more acute than his rider's.
Clutch: Shimeath and Azmoveth
