Egg Name and Description
Silent Storm Egg
This egg is an interesting egg. Small but relatively well-formed, it does not stand out in a pack of them, and yet it has a personality all its' own. A haze of tempestuous russet and mustard drifts across a darker base, forming cloud-like patterns that seem to defy gravity. There is a sense of immense silence about the cloudy formations, of endless, cold potential — until, down from the apex, a bolt of brilliant carnelian streaks. It forks out in several places, for all the world looking like a bolt of lightning. Around the bolt, the egg seems to darken, and even the palest, gold-tinged cloudforms seem sooty in comparison. Near the bottom of the small shell, an inconsistency can be seen; a small, almost insignificant black smudge, kind of spiky around the edges and tiny in comparison to the bolt of lightning.
Silent Storm Egg shifts precisely, once left, once right — then, promptly, breaks into a flurry of action. It all but flies a good half a dragonlength, before landing heavily on its' apex and cracking thunderously. The sound echoes with in the cavern, then is followed by another round of noise, that mingles unpleasantly with the usual din of a hatching. In the place of the hazy egg is a dragonet whose Presence is undeniable. Quickly, he flicks his wings and gives himself a shake, looking moderately amused when this action ends up with him facedown in the sand for a moment. Lesson learned, his next movement is slow, measured. With immense pride and power, though now contained, the Destiny's Design Blue strides confidently across the sands straight for his chosen.
Hatchling Name and Description
Destiny's Design Blue
In stark contrast to his in-your-face personality, Jaesriuth's coloring is anything but. An inky midnight seems to engulf him almost entirely, leaving only faint variations and minor changes; like the fact that his neck and tail ridges are brilliantly blue, tinged only faintly with misty, twilit silver. Or the fact that his wingsails are as dark as his hide for the most part, like a starless night sky, lit up around the hand-part of his wing with faintest silver, almost like clouds. Otherwise, his midnight body has only the scintillating speckle of palest blue that drifts over just about the entire bulk of his body. The specks measure no bigger than a freckle on a human, but their cumulative effect is almost that of stars dancing over a clear night sky; clear but for the slight overcast of short, broad wings. The flecks drift in patterns interspersed with areas of nigh-darkness, not seeming to have any sort of congruity or continual patterning — but for one area. Along his right shoulder, the speckles flash silver, and gleam in a faintly angular pattern, something like a stylized "A". He is a handsomely-built fellow, small and lean, but the small isn't just a 'he's kind of short'. No, Jaesriuth is quite tiny for a blue, among the very smallest, surely! He is outstripped by more than one green as far as length, at least. He is slightly bulkier than the females generally are, with more muscle and less length (length is, really, the main thing he lacks) in tail and neck. His wings are short and broad, allowing for excellent agility in the skies, but not much staying power — physically, at least. The blue carries himself with absolute pride, though, a swagger in even the dragon's cursed hop-skip stride, tailtip constantly flicking a cheerful tune, expression absolutely one of smugness.
Sands falter; fade. You are left sitting in the midst of something chaotic and overwhelming; voices shout in a language you do not know, lights flash, the world shakes. Somebody shouts what is unmistakably a command, somebody answers in what could be an affirmative. Shouts, shouts — a crash! « Ah, R'iahn! » Unperturbed in the least, a voice interrupts the madness, though it doesn't cease. « There you are. You know, these people are awfully bad with the service. A dragon can't get something to eat to save his life. » Lazy, the voice catches in a derisive snort for the others. « They're not like you. » Here, it turns conspiratorial, still lazily amused. « You're a ray of sunshine here, two-legs. » Sarcasm drips faintly from the tone, but amusement remains as the ground shakes once more, and a crash echoes deafeningly. « Huh. » Mildly, the voice murmurs. « That one was good. I think my stomach is winning, man. Time to get some grub. What d'you say we invite Sanldoth and hers over to the feeding station so you can get t' know each other? Didn't you notice she'd Impressed earlier? Tsk, tsk, R'iahn. » Your mind, still reeling faintly, struggles to keep up with this impetuous, fleeting voice who seems to know so much about you. What on Pern is this? « Slow, today, are we, Captain? » The reasoning behind the voice using a seacrafter term in relation to you escapes for the moment, as he is pushing on: « I'm Jaesriuth, of course. Dragon. Two wings, four feet, tail, you know? Big and scary? » Snort. « Call me Jae. Big And Scary doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well. »
Quirky, tempestuous, and full of himself (with good reason!), from the time Jaesriuth sashays into your life, R'iahn, it's certain to never be boring again. Not only will it never be boring, but it won't even be exciting — it will be terrifying. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement. But you've stepped into the hornet's nest, my friend, by Impressing Jae. Not a day goes by that he doesn't find something to test, something to push, something to challenge. Something that pushes him to do better, to be better. What does he have to prove? « Only that I'm the best dragon to ever fly. » And you had best believe it! From day one, this is his Modus Operandi, the knowledge that he is the best at what he does. That, if he does his best, he cannot fail. That he will never fail, as long as he does all he can and you are with him. With you, it is possible. With you, worlds can be conquered, storms fought and renegades dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. And don't you dare try and tell him he can't.
Jaesriuth will be an awful Weyrling. The Weyrlingmasters will never know enough, will never be quite as bright as him — if they were, wouldn't they be doing something else? Something useful? Like, say, Search and Rescue? Now, that's exciting! « My wings are strong, R'iahn! There's no reason we can't be tapped now — so what if I'm only a turn old? I fly better than that old codger! » If you can control him, you will have to start early, keeping him reeled in and focused on something else; outpacing clutchmates or even older Weyrling classes until he's forgotten that there is anything but Weyrling training. Even then, the moment somebody mentions the wings, he'll be back at it, demanding until he gets his way that he be placed in a proper wing. For all that his temper will place him further back than others, he will be an excellent Weyrling. He will be, simply put, the best. It is not in him to be second best — second best is first lost, you know! He must always be on top of the class, be the one who gets the drill down quickest (and with more style, might I add), the one who catches the first kill and the one who quits last. That being said, it would be wise to tame down his ego for all of this. Should he decide to inform the Weyrlingmasters that he beat their time flying sweeps while flying backwards and tangoing with the closest green, you'll likely get in trouble. And don't get him started on the other Weyrlings. Yes, he will get along with most of them, but there's always that competitive edge. Always that drive to do better than them. It's hard to make close friends when you're trying to be better than your fellows — even if you more than happily team up with them if they ask. Most of them don't. So if they don't seem intent upon being your friend and ally, or following your lead, where do they belong? In your dust, of course.
There is no fear in Jaesriuth. None he will admit to, anyways, and likely none that can be found, period. He will be the first into the storm to fetch somebody injured, will be the last to leave the desert if there is a caravan stranded. He is incapable of giving in or losing anybody he sets his mind on saving, and any loss will bring about a severe round of self-hatred for as many days as he remembers. « It was my fault, R'iahn. Stop trying to make me feel better. He would have been just fine had I…just gotten there sooner. Leave me alone. I'm going to practice so that the next one doesn't die like Ilsuth and his did. » His fearlessness will get him in trouble more often than you would like, and you may find that often it is impossible for you to get much time in in any wing you take on, as your bullheaded dragon has gone and gotten himself hurt by taking on a pride of Southern felines who are starting to threaten a remote cothold or something insane like that. The sad thing is, he gets out of these situations more than he gets hurt in them by far, so how often does he get himself into tight situations to need so sharding much attention from the dragonhealers? This, likely above all else, once he gets older, will be the explanation behind the ego. You can say what you want about him, but Jaesriuth is damn good at whatever he does — and he knows it. Is there anything so wrong with that? Certainly not! He works damn sharding hard to get as good as he does, and he is utterly unashamed in his triumph over the everyday or mundane dragons who don't try as hard as he does. Jaesriuth might be gifted with intuition and natural charisma that help him along, but he also has to work, and work hard, for the rest of it. He is a strong ally, as mentioned, but that doesn't mean that everybody is going to like him, or see his lucky tenaciousness as admirable. He's okay with that. This blue is perfectly content to be the brazen defender of his allies and companions and the cheerful tactition against those who he disapproves of.
Don't ever tell this stubborn dragon that he's not a bronze. He is absolutely convinced that he can outstrip any dragon of any color, no matter how much bigger or smaller than he they are. Faster than a green (and a speeding bullet, for that matter), smarter than a bronze, stronger than a brown! And, for that matter, more valuable than one of those useless, clunky golds. Don't tell them he said that! His small size is likely a driving factor behind his irrational propensity towards obscene stubbornness, always pushing him to be better, faster, stronger, smarter. He has to be all of these things, must do it, for himself and for others. If he doesn't fly into those storms, who's going to rescue the stranded ship's crew? If he doesn't brave the renegades, who's going to get back the Lord Holder's daughter? If those abominably slow bronzes are dawdling too much, who is going to dash in ahead of that gale and warn those coastal cotholds? The shepherds and holdless fishermen? As far as Jae is concerned, he is the only man for the job. He will be the man for the job. Always. You can always count on him. Reliable, in many ways, may not be the most reasonable term to describe Jaesriuth — but in his duty, and his sense of duty, it does not even begin to describe him. Jae will always feel connected to his wingmates and friends in a way that compels him to defend them, to better them, to help them help others; and here, too, the charisma and charm kick in. Good luck finding that in some dragon who can't tell his ass end from his wingtips! Jae will spend hours a day working on his tactics, studying storms or the renegades or every cothold he can find on any map. He will work as hard as he needs to, then some…but he plays just as hard as he works. As soon as he has spent his time studying, he shuts down that part of his brain. Then out comes the playful, cocky dragon that will so inspire strong emotions: Hatred or love seem to follow him around like an irritating swarm of bees!
Jaesriuth will always be a remarkable leader. He will probably ascend to the position of Wingleader quickly, dragging you with him willingly or unwillingly. His dedication and luck will make him an obvious choice, and you're on the older end of Impressing candidates anyways, so it's not like they'd be promoting a child. Your tactical skills will be of some use to Jae, though not as much as one might think of the lazy, indolent-seeming dragon that most see after morning's practice and study has passed. Jae's skill is second only to his dedication to those under his protection; be they you, his wingmates, or those who he's currently on the mission to save. He will have talent with working with others, once his overabundance of Weyrling hormones wear off. Though his first idea will be to be brash and harsh, charm will carry him through, and he will seem to have an impeccable sense of when to be polite and when to tear somebody a new one. The impulse of cockiness, of self-surety will never go away, not by a long shot, but after he graduates, this blue will likely stop bandying about his arrogance to everybody who'll listen to him. Instead, he will drag it out only when females are within a two-mile radius, or he's being…no, you know, we'll just go with it'll never go away. But he doesn't let it get in the way! That's the thing. Jae is remarkably lucky, for a dragon, and seems to be impossible to pin down most of the time. For every broken bone he gets, every time he manages to get shot at by the renegades or struck by firelizard-sized hail, there will be seemingly dozens in which he gets off without a mark, without a single injury to his name! And he'll always be flippant about it; « If you're good, you get away clean. » will be his favorite anecdote. Still, he accepts those times in which he manages to break several bones as his just dues, at least? « Sometimes you have to take one for the team. »
Jaesriuth is, indeed, quite tiny. If he were female and more greenish, he wouldn't even be a massive green, for all that he is bulkier than most greens are. His bulk is all well-earned muscle, and no small amount of scar tissue, as it seems that any part of him one finds sports no fewer than two or three at least tiny ones. But even his muscle isn't that bulky; he is still somewhat lean, and not in the least but pudgy, even in youth. His wings are broad and short, lending blazing maneuverability that he hones to a fault in exercise daily. He doesn't see his size as a downfall, for all that he might not be able to physically fly as long or hard as larger dragons…he can make himself fly just as long as he needs to, and there isn't a reason to fly any longer! So what is the point of fretting over spilled milk? This speed will lend itself relatively well to your average greenflight, all the same. And boy, is that a good thing! Or…maybe not, all things considered. He sure does enjoy a flight. He loves to love! He is a lover! Isn't that a good thing? Heh. Heheh. Ahem. He will always be more than willing to share his cozy towertop vantage point with any green for as long as she'd like to stay, though he doesn't bother with golds. What, you say he couldn't? You obviously haven't been listening. No, he just doesn't particularly like the big sodding bovines. They're not as…spirited…as his dear greens, now are they? But for all that his impulsive nature will lead him to chase any green tail that glows within a mile or two of him, he will always come back to his mate. There will be one dragon who he devotes himself to, who gains his loyalty and companionship…who he might even quit chasing other tails for, if she so desired. That serious, yes! But should any children come from his tail-chasing prowess, Jaesriuth will be at a loss, until they get a little older. Then he will resemble nothing so much as the uncle that we all have; the bad influence, for sure! Candy? Of couuurse! Rides to Ista for candy? Why not!
For all that he is utterly impossible from time to time, cocky and insolent, lazy and yet utterly devoted to his cause, Jaesriuth is your perfect companion. He accents where you are weak, bolsters your strengths, and completes you like no other. He will be your rock, he will make sure you shine, he will…he will drive you completely batshit from time to time. But it's all in the game, mate. You've got to roll with the punches. Get up and fight another day. Battle on! And, above all else? Above distressing damsels, raging storms and stranded seamen? You are the person with whom Jae finds his satisfaction. He might enjoy helping people, might feel obligated, even, but there is no obligation with you. You are his best friend, his comrade, you have his back and he has yours. Your relationship is natural, like brothers, brothers in arms. And until the day the both of you go together into the cold, dark arms of *between* to find Faranth, or whatever lies in waiting, you will remain brothers. He might drive you nuts, he might get you in trouble and you might find yourself sitting, fretting, at his side while wondering if this time he's actually going to die of those damn wounds, but the bond between you is without comparison. You are each others' better half. That's how it should be, right?
Jae's mindvoice is never gentle, somehow. He doesn't seem capable of toning it down or halting the overwhelming nature of it. In pleasure, it purrs, the thunderous roar of a million felines, accented with self-assured bursts of vibrant flames and lightning. The flames shimmer in candescent colors, one moment a flash of indigo, the next startling chartreuse, the next banana yellow. For most others, the purr is accented by the occasional explosion or enthusiastic rat-a-tat-tat of something that sounds like mini explosions and your mind identifies as 'gunfire', whatever that may be. The general backdrop flashes between palest silver and iridescent blue to endless, star-strewn black, never continuous for too long. But in the midst of missions, or while he's thinking hard, his mind is a combat zone and a lightning storm — explosions rock and leave your senses teetering, affecting every part of you, so realistic are they. He never seems to be disturbed by this, at least, though he is prone to shouting. Thunder rolls endlessly in anger, the sharp scent of something metallic and dangerously hot bubbles just beneath the surface of his mind. Over all, Jaesriuth's mind is not the most pleasant of places to reside, but he can't exactly help it, now can he!
Jaesriuth is based on James Tiberius Kirk of Star Trek fame. In case it wasn't obvious, that's where his name derives from as well. :) He may change as I get to know the old character better, but for now he is based mainly on the character as portrayed in the recent movie. I've yet to spend an entire weekend watching the old series, my computer is abominably slow. ;) Be patient, I am but a wee girl who was never a Trekkie and thinks that most of the original Trekkies are oooollld. Muhahahaha! -flee-
I wrote him myself, but wrote he and Sanldoth both as if they were for somebody else, as that's how I'm used to writing dragons. ;) And I think they look neater that way. They both took entirely too long to write and are insanely rambly, but I believe we will enjoy them!