Post by Mira on Feb 15, 2010 22:30:52 GMT -6
Basics
Name: Shavon
Age: 19 Turns
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual (sex is a waste of time for her, though)
Rank: Wrathcursed Rider
[/center]Age: 19 Turns
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual (sex is a waste of time for her, though)
Rank: Wrathcursed Rider
Physical
Hair: Shavon's mahogany hair is straight. Dead straight. And you won't be seeing it any other way. It comes down to just past her hips, extremely long for a dragonrider but is most often seen in a no-nonsense knot. When she does feel like looking pretty, it's seen in a much more elaborate knot, braided perhaps, or beaded in the fashion of her tribe.
Eyes: Shavon's eyes are almond-shaped and golden-brown, framed by long, slightly waving lashes and carefully trimmed, deepest brown eyebrows. The golden-brown is surrounded by a ring of purest gold around each iris, and a ring of an odd chartreuse-type color around each pupil.
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 137 lb
Defining characteristics: There is something distinctly feral about Shavon, something wild beyond the normal. For the majority who only know life in Hold or Weyr, Shavon's untamed bearing is something exotic and strange. Her figure is lithe and catlike, but still has the elegant grace that many a lady would be envious of. Indeed, Shavon could almost look like a fairytale princess in her finery and alabaster skin. Almost. There is always that predatory look in her lovely brown eyes, that animal instinct lurking behind the glamour.
An angular jaw, well-crafted nose, and not-quite-cherubic lips detract from the intimidation, though the expressions most often seen on Shavon's face are not the most pleasant. Her hands are thin, fine-boned, and long-fingered, the hands of a lady. She is much more muscular than a lot of women in the Weyr, though it does not show itself in bulk. She is strong rather than bulky, excellent for being in tight spots (literally and figuratively.) Her bust is smaller than average.
Shavon loves to wear simple, silky outfits in grays and blacks that are easy to move in. Always present are her knives, whether hidden in the bodice of a Gather dress or wickedly visible on her riding belt. She has two weighted throwing knives that also serve a wonderful purpose as regular knives, and they rest in a handcrafted double scabbard. The handles of these knives are some triple-hardened metal (secrets of the tribe) covered with reinforced ebony. Shavon is also usually seen wearing a metal necklace of some sort, whether it is a band of steel (like a collar), a simple drop pendant, or an ornate jeweled affair. The jewels in a predominantly-jewel necklace must be black or red. She will not wear anything else.
Anything extra: Her necklaces?
Eyes: Shavon's eyes are almond-shaped and golden-brown, framed by long, slightly waving lashes and carefully trimmed, deepest brown eyebrows. The golden-brown is surrounded by a ring of purest gold around each iris, and a ring of an odd chartreuse-type color around each pupil.
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 137 lb
Defining characteristics: There is something distinctly feral about Shavon, something wild beyond the normal. For the majority who only know life in Hold or Weyr, Shavon's untamed bearing is something exotic and strange. Her figure is lithe and catlike, but still has the elegant grace that many a lady would be envious of. Indeed, Shavon could almost look like a fairytale princess in her finery and alabaster skin. Almost. There is always that predatory look in her lovely brown eyes, that animal instinct lurking behind the glamour.
An angular jaw, well-crafted nose, and not-quite-cherubic lips detract from the intimidation, though the expressions most often seen on Shavon's face are not the most pleasant. Her hands are thin, fine-boned, and long-fingered, the hands of a lady. She is much more muscular than a lot of women in the Weyr, though it does not show itself in bulk. She is strong rather than bulky, excellent for being in tight spots (literally and figuratively.) Her bust is smaller than average.
Shavon loves to wear simple, silky outfits in grays and blacks that are easy to move in. Always present are her knives, whether hidden in the bodice of a Gather dress or wickedly visible on her riding belt. She has two weighted throwing knives that also serve a wonderful purpose as regular knives, and they rest in a handcrafted double scabbard. The handles of these knives are some triple-hardened metal (secrets of the tribe) covered with reinforced ebony. Shavon is also usually seen wearing a metal necklace of some sort, whether it is a band of steel (like a collar), a simple drop pendant, or an ornate jeweled affair. The jewels in a predominantly-jewel necklace must be black or red. She will not wear anything else.
Anything extra: Her necklaces?
Extra
Personality: Shavon is a genius. Actually, that's an understatement. She simply has, possibly, the most brilliant mind on Pern. Analyzing specific information and concepts and storing them in her mind, she uses this information to solve any problem she's given in record time. Her mind is, quite, simply, disturbing. Added to this is her memory, which is every bit as good as her mind. Her memory is simply the product of too much time and lack of diversion. But one cannot get past the fact that Shavon is a genius, and that she can outwit all of Pern without batting an eyelid.
Shavon does have a personality beyond her intelligence, though. Lack of morals and a desire to get what she wants make a vicious girl who isn't afraid to use force to get what she wants. This thing that she wants so badly is power. Power, prestige, and maybe some more fancier clothes. She tends to insult others, maybe even fly into a screaming rage, if it gets her one iota higher in the rat race. Iotas add up to bits. Bits add up to steps. Steps add up to power. And Shavon's relatively young. She has time. If Shavon wants to hurt you physically, then you will wish you didn't have a body. If Shavon hurts your heart, then you wish you were heartless.
Generally, Shavon is not a happy camper. She likes knives and poison, and has the odd quirk of thinking blood is among the most interesting things in the world. Same with injury, death, and fire. Fluffy things do not become her. Shiny things, however, do. She loves shiny things. Especially metallic dragons. And she's the rider of one, so everything works out perfectly.
Shavon shows compassion with a slight headcock and a hint of a smile. That's about it. And even that is rare. Very rare. Most of the time you're confronted with a carefully neutral, contemptuous expression, the expression of a higher being looking down upon a lower one. Either that or a particularly annoying smirk, a quizzical smirk that will irk the life out of anyone who sees it for more than about one-tenth of a second. It is the smirk of someone who has power and has already abused it beyond redemption, and to those who have less power than she (which is almost everyone, really) it is the one thing that makes them want to punch Shavon in the face. Of course, with Shavon's natural agility and unarmed combat skills, they won't ever get that far.
Over the years, Shavon has mellowed. Very slightly. When she was younger, she was completely wild in the way of the tribe, and it took Turns for the Weyrfolk to tame her into the still-feral creature she is today. But she's a lot less wild and more mannered than she was at thirteen. Indeed, she can hold her own in any diplomatic situation, and take tea with any hidebound Holders without a hitch. But she is definitely a temperamental young woman, with tendencies to fly into terrible rages when things don't go her way (which happens less and less these days, really.)
Family: R'kus, 40, bronzerider of Selsth, dead
Sialerna, 37, weyrfolk, alive
Pets: None
History: Shavon's mother was a tribeswoman, and her father a bronzerider. R'kus took Sialerna as his, despite her wishes, and raped her at the Weyr. She became pregnant, and Shavon was born. R'kus ignored his daughter thoroughly, but Sialerna initiated the girl into the tribe and brought her up as a tribeswoman. Shavon did not like to interact with the other children, instead preferring to carry out strange rituals in the dead of night and skulk and observe in the day. For a week every year (the week of the first full moon of the spring) she and Sialerna would not be seen at all. R'kus tried everything to stop these strange rituals, treating Sialerna like his slave and abusing Shavon in multiple ways, which we shall not go into here.
Shavon was quickly seen as a strange child, and not just because of the rituals, her mother, and her father's abuse. She was extremely intelligent, and did not bother to hide it. By age two, she could read anything anyone thrust at her with a deep level of understanding. By age four, she could multiply two-digit numbers in her head in ten seconds. By age ten, she was somewhat of a legend among the Weyr, and not always in a good way. R'kus's body was found, horribly twisted and deformed, in a dark corridor by a drudge. Sialerna was conveniently away. Nothing was ever proven. And with the poison Shavon used, nothing would ever be proven.
When Shavon was fourteen, she Stood at a hatching sired by a Wrathcursed male. Many dragons hatched, but Shavon took little interest in them. She was waiting for her dragon to come along, and those foolish ones were clearly not hers. She waited...and waited...but no dragon came to her. Because of her age, her mother would say. She was too young to even think of Impressing. Fool, the woman would hiss, lacerating her body. But then...
//Shavon, I am better than any other dragon, including those silly queens. Now feed me, or I will resort to violent means to make you do so.//
[/color]Shavon does have a personality beyond her intelligence, though. Lack of morals and a desire to get what she wants make a vicious girl who isn't afraid to use force to get what she wants. This thing that she wants so badly is power. Power, prestige, and maybe some more fancier clothes. She tends to insult others, maybe even fly into a screaming rage, if it gets her one iota higher in the rat race. Iotas add up to bits. Bits add up to steps. Steps add up to power. And Shavon's relatively young. She has time. If Shavon wants to hurt you physically, then you will wish you didn't have a body. If Shavon hurts your heart, then you wish you were heartless.
Generally, Shavon is not a happy camper. She likes knives and poison, and has the odd quirk of thinking blood is among the most interesting things in the world. Same with injury, death, and fire. Fluffy things do not become her. Shiny things, however, do. She loves shiny things. Especially metallic dragons. And she's the rider of one, so everything works out perfectly.
Shavon shows compassion with a slight headcock and a hint of a smile. That's about it. And even that is rare. Very rare. Most of the time you're confronted with a carefully neutral, contemptuous expression, the expression of a higher being looking down upon a lower one. Either that or a particularly annoying smirk, a quizzical smirk that will irk the life out of anyone who sees it for more than about one-tenth of a second. It is the smirk of someone who has power and has already abused it beyond redemption, and to those who have less power than she (which is almost everyone, really) it is the one thing that makes them want to punch Shavon in the face. Of course, with Shavon's natural agility and unarmed combat skills, they won't ever get that far.
Over the years, Shavon has mellowed. Very slightly. When she was younger, she was completely wild in the way of the tribe, and it took Turns for the Weyrfolk to tame her into the still-feral creature she is today. But she's a lot less wild and more mannered than she was at thirteen. Indeed, she can hold her own in any diplomatic situation, and take tea with any hidebound Holders without a hitch. But she is definitely a temperamental young woman, with tendencies to fly into terrible rages when things don't go her way (which happens less and less these days, really.)
Family: R'kus, 40, bronzerider of Selsth, dead
Sialerna, 37, weyrfolk, alive
Pets: None
History: Shavon's mother was a tribeswoman, and her father a bronzerider. R'kus took Sialerna as his, despite her wishes, and raped her at the Weyr. She became pregnant, and Shavon was born. R'kus ignored his daughter thoroughly, but Sialerna initiated the girl into the tribe and brought her up as a tribeswoman. Shavon did not like to interact with the other children, instead preferring to carry out strange rituals in the dead of night and skulk and observe in the day. For a week every year (the week of the first full moon of the spring) she and Sialerna would not be seen at all. R'kus tried everything to stop these strange rituals, treating Sialerna like his slave and abusing Shavon in multiple ways, which we shall not go into here.
Shavon was quickly seen as a strange child, and not just because of the rituals, her mother, and her father's abuse. She was extremely intelligent, and did not bother to hide it. By age two, she could read anything anyone thrust at her with a deep level of understanding. By age four, she could multiply two-digit numbers in her head in ten seconds. By age ten, she was somewhat of a legend among the Weyr, and not always in a good way. R'kus's body was found, horribly twisted and deformed, in a dark corridor by a drudge. Sialerna was conveniently away. Nothing was ever proven. And with the poison Shavon used, nothing would ever be proven.
When Shavon was fourteen, she Stood at a hatching sired by a Wrathcursed male. Many dragons hatched, but Shavon took little interest in them. She was waiting for her dragon to come along, and those foolish ones were clearly not hers. She waited...and waited...but no dragon came to her. Because of her age, her mother would say. She was too young to even think of Impressing. Fool, the woman would hiss, lacerating her body. But then...
//Shavon, I am better than any other dragon, including those silly queens. Now feed me, or I will resort to violent means to make you do so.//
Shavon went through weyrling training with her topaz, and trained to become a fighting dragon. Saoirseth had her first flight and was caught by ruby Amorseth. Shavon became pregnant, but aborted the baby between. Now they wait. For what, they do not know...[/size][/center]
Dragon
Dragon name: Saoirseth
Dragon color: Topaz - Saoirseth is a more bronzed topaz than most, almost appearing like a brassy bronze. However, she is most definitely not a bronze, due to the delicate copper sheen that coats her hide and her size. And she definitely does not carry herself like a male. Indeed, she seems almost more feminine than Hers, with butterfly-esque wings. She's extremely tiny for a topaz, about the size of a medium-sized opal or so. Her tail is extremely long for any topaz, and appears unnatural on Saoirseth's tiny body. Saoirseth's build is unnaturally thin, so she appears malnourished, almost starved.
Her claws are something to behold; they are longer than a regular dragon's claws, and are carefully filed to points on special rocks. They are as thick as a regular-sized topaz's claws, which means they look awful on this miniature topaz.
Important to note: Adaeliyath's tailforks and headknobs are a pure, rich, molten gold that fades into the bronzed gold. A delicate fractal-type pattern of the same molten gold snakes around her neck. She is 34.5 feet long.
Mindvoice: Saoirseth's mindvoice is a silky whisper, with the merest of hissing edges to give one a headache after some time. It is dangerously persuasive, smooth and rich as heavy cream, and is intoxicating. One should be beware, for it has an almost soporific effect on the ears. When wrathful, it changes to a harsh cry, like ancient glacial ice calving into some arctic sea, powerful and terrible. Those who have beheld this cry are not likely to bestir this topaz's wrath ever again.
Dragon age: 5 Turns
Dragon personality: Saoirseth is every bit as dangerous as her rider, but her art is more subtle; the she-viper in the grass rather than the lioness ready to pounce. She has a way with words, and a precious ability to flirt with kings and queens alike. She can double-cross as easily as slump down upon her stone couch, and talk her way out of any trap. Indeed, she is one of the most intelligent of topazes, not needing brawn to make her way in the world. Her memory is uncanny, and she could almost be as smart as the average gold. She has a way of talking so you don't remember it was her, but you are compelled to spread the rumor. And the rumors Saoirseth wishes to spread are dark indeed. She is also extremely vain, taking the utmost care about her appearance, and does not tolerate imperfection of any sort. On Earth, she'd be called an obsessive-compulsive neat freak. Everything must be just-so perfect. The only mothering instincts she has are just that: instinct. Oh, and she'd like you to know that she hates whers and loves flitters.
[/center]Dragon color: Topaz - Saoirseth is a more bronzed topaz than most, almost appearing like a brassy bronze. However, she is most definitely not a bronze, due to the delicate copper sheen that coats her hide and her size. And she definitely does not carry herself like a male. Indeed, she seems almost more feminine than Hers, with butterfly-esque wings. She's extremely tiny for a topaz, about the size of a medium-sized opal or so. Her tail is extremely long for any topaz, and appears unnatural on Saoirseth's tiny body. Saoirseth's build is unnaturally thin, so she appears malnourished, almost starved.
Her claws are something to behold; they are longer than a regular dragon's claws, and are carefully filed to points on special rocks. They are as thick as a regular-sized topaz's claws, which means they look awful on this miniature topaz.
Important to note: Adaeliyath's tailforks and headknobs are a pure, rich, molten gold that fades into the bronzed gold. A delicate fractal-type pattern of the same molten gold snakes around her neck. She is 34.5 feet long.
Mindvoice: Saoirseth's mindvoice is a silky whisper, with the merest of hissing edges to give one a headache after some time. It is dangerously persuasive, smooth and rich as heavy cream, and is intoxicating. One should be beware, for it has an almost soporific effect on the ears. When wrathful, it changes to a harsh cry, like ancient glacial ice calving into some arctic sea, powerful and terrible. Those who have beheld this cry are not likely to bestir this topaz's wrath ever again.
Dragon age: 5 Turns
Dragon personality: Saoirseth is every bit as dangerous as her rider, but her art is more subtle; the she-viper in the grass rather than the lioness ready to pounce. She has a way with words, and a precious ability to flirt with kings and queens alike. She can double-cross as easily as slump down upon her stone couch, and talk her way out of any trap. Indeed, she is one of the most intelligent of topazes, not needing brawn to make her way in the world. Her memory is uncanny, and she could almost be as smart as the average gold. She has a way of talking so you don't remember it was her, but you are compelled to spread the rumor. And the rumors Saoirseth wishes to spread are dark indeed. She is also extremely vain, taking the utmost care about her appearance, and does not tolerate imperfection of any sort. On Earth, she'd be called an obsessive-compulsive neat freak. Everything must be just-so perfect. The only mothering instincts she has are just that: instinct. Oh, and she'd like you to know that she hates whers and loves flitters.
