This bronze is exactly the sort of dragon the word 'rugged' was made for. Formidable without being overly muscular, he is a creature with presence to spare, despite being of average size. This is achieved in how he carries himself, more than anything else, all lean swagger and keen arrogance, head held high and wings half-cocked as though always prepared to delve headlong into adventure. His coloration doesn't help one bit - far from perfect, he is a rough, gritty bronze at base, hide flecked and speckled with a subtle russet shimmer. The same blackened, smoky hue that tinted his egg's shell sweeps along his spine from head to tail, the tone deviating only to darken the sails of both wings. This is perhaps meant to balance out the bright, shiny swatches of gold that flash across strong facial features and his wings' leading edges. White-hot compared to the rest of his rugged form, these markings seem to hint at a dragon whose heart belongs to the sky, despite his body's ties to the ground.
Egg Name and Description
Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal Egg
Of all the eggs you've seen, this one's the nicest! It might look like an ovoid hunk of junk at first, a metallic shade of grey rough and blackened over time as though from multiple planetary reentries, but it has a certain rustic charm about it that manages to be alluring all the same. The egg's base is decorated with motes of lemon and chartreuse, the colors so eye-blinding against the sand that they appear to glow in the dark. A hard, gritty splash of blood red across the egg's near side hints at a dark past, or perhaps a shady future, but for now it remains docked on the sands, awaiting its next big adventure.
Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal Egg… well, it explodes. Forcefully. And from within its shell flies a lean whip of a bronze, his dark hide scattered with sand and debris long before he actually leaves the tattered remains of his shell. The creature blinks, and then straightens, if a bit sheepishly. Nothing to see here. Everything's shiny, captain!
First rule of battle, little one: don't ever let them know where you are. « WOO HOO! Take that, ya skinny, unworthy bastards! » 'Course, there are other schools of thought… « That was gorram thrilling, don't'cha think?! Man, they don't like it much when you scratch at 'em, do they? Worked that'n out myself! » And just who is that? « Wha— It's me! Mas! Well. My friends call me Mas. Everyone else calls me Masikoth, but then, who cares about them. » There's no deep moment, no real distance from the sand as his mind slides into place alongside yours, like a ship coming to dock. He's simply there, as if he always was, and now will forever be. « And you, M'ori! Look at you, all human and stuff! I told you you were too pretty to die, didn't I? » Yes, scars and fresh wounds and all. « And here we are. Not dead. Fancy that! » Judging by the wry drawl and humorous tone, you'd think that was his doing. « We best be getting outta here though, lest that change. That kid's giving me the stink eye, and I've half a mind to put it out for him. »
Big Damn Heroes, Sir
Mal: Well look at this! Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoë: Big damn heroes, sir!
Mal: Ain't we just.
It should come as little surprise that Masikoth’s mind is as diverse and varied as his personality, a whole composed of a thousand little components.
Initially, the most obvious facet will be the low, quiet drone that will always echo through the background of his mind. Though you'll soon grow used to the dull hum, at first it will be incredibly distracting, a low metallic ‘whoom-whoom’ that tumbles on and on like a great, distant engine of a spaceship. It makes sense, to those he allows into his inner circle - his inner mind does, after all, take place in a small, homey Firefly Class transport ship, the self-same ship that starred in the mindtouches of his egg. Are you surprised? It’s what he has to work with, after all, and it’s home - for both of you, now.
For the greater public, Mas’s mind is made up almost entirely of the vastness of outer space, starring little backwater worlds that one might not ordinarily pay any mind to. Pleasant acquaintances are treated to amazing views of space, constellations and nebulas soaring into and out of view as his thoughts travel past. Those he’s less than fond of, well, they get dumped in the middle of a desert and left for dead, if he even offers them any harbor at all.
Music undercuts the majority of his moods: long, whining clips of violin and fiddle music when he’s quiet or whimsical, the quick pinging of guitar strings when he's feeling particularly smug (which is to say, most times). Bass drums ring out when thunderous moods overtake him, with the harsh rat-a-tat of snares underlining each word when forced to speak to those he doesn’t like.
His voice, though… his voice is where it’s at. Masikoth speaks in a low, wry baritone, one that hitches and burrs with the softest hint of an accent. All of that proper-speakin’ stuff the Harpers try to teach is for the birds, really. Dry amusement crawls through his voice more often than not, and it always seems to imply a twisted smirk and a whole lot of attitude, even when he’s attempting to show respect. Granted, that ain’t often, but it happens!
Mal: This is the captain. We have a little problem with our entry sequence, so we may experience some slight turbulence and then - explode.
Welcome, M’ori, to your Masikoth. Buckle up, friend, you’re in for a ride with this one. He’ll put you up on your toes from minute one, and will likely keep you there for the rest of your life! That’s not to say he’s a chore or a struggle - he isn’t, really, for the most part - but he’s definitely got a fire in him and if you want to contain the burn, you’ll always have to keep two steps ahead.
For the most part, this will mean teaching Mas his boundaries, because you can sure as hell bet he’s going to test every single one of them. Why can’t he eat that? It looks perfectly edible. How do you mean, he shouldn’t tackle Nadaunth to the ground and hold her there ‘til she admits he’s right? ‘That’s just not how it’s done?’ He just did it, and it worked, so clearly that is how it’s done! Bullheaded and cocksure, it’ll take quite a bit of convincing for him to really accept and understand things like rules and politeness, and even then he might simply choose to shrug them off and go about things Masikoth’s Way anyways.
People who think to hold him back won’t be spared from a tongue-lashing, either. He’s got wit, this one, and he isn’t afraid to cut it loose and give people a piece of his mind. It’ll take time to learn who should be on the receiving end, and who he should probably give some level of deference to (the weyrleader, for example, cough), but chances are reaaaaaal good he’ll have to learn that the hard way. Once or twice. Maybe a couple times. A week.
Mal: See how I'm not punching him? I think I've grown.
Eventually, though, everyone settles into their own skin, and he will, too. Sure, he might poke things a bit, just to shake things up and make them a little less boring, but that’ll just be for fun. Though he’ll probably always be a very physical dragon, he’ll let up on beating on people unless they really deserve it, and instead learn to direct his energy into lessons. Though he does know how to relax, in the beginning, he won’t the sort to be content with idledom for long. There’s places to see, things to do and he longs to get out there and see them.
That will make weyrlinghood interesting, that will. Eager to get on with it and get to the heart of matters, he’ll throw himself into lessons, yearning to make it to flight. He’ll likely annoy the piss out of AWLMs with his near-insolence and wise-cracking, but frankly, who cares. He’s got you, M’ori, and as long as you approve of him, that’s all he needs.
Inara: You're lost in the woods. We all are. Even the captain. The only difference is he likes it that way.
Mal: No, the only difference is the woods are the only place I can see a clear path.
He’s okay with this independence, too. Prefers it, even. Neither of you owe nothin’ to nobody, and don’t let anyone tell you any different. Masikoth’s not an isolationist or a hermit by any means, he simply prefers not to force relationships or try to gain favor by being something he’s not. Given time, he’ll gather a good group of loyal friends about him who share similar humors and ideals, but so long as he has you, he’s in no particular rush to do so. He has his path, and he’s content to follow it.
Indeed, the sky’s the limit as far as Mas is concerned, and even then, he’ll push to visit the Yoko if only to see the vastness of space through your eyes. Only there will he be a perfect kind of content.
The Operative: That girl will rain destruction down on you and your ship. She is an albatross, Captain.
Mal: Way I remember it, albatross was a ship's good luck, 'til some idiot killed it. [to Inara] Yes, I've read a poem. Try not to faint.
This sort of poetic wanderlust isn’t unusual either. Sure, he’s a bit rough and tumble, more than willing to provoke a fight (especially when someone’s done him or those he considers his an injustice), but he’s got a mind in there somewhere under all the gruff humor, and it’s a deep one. He isn’t the sort to flaunt it or push it in others’ faces - his personality does that allll by itself - but he’s smart and vastly enjoys opportunities to really learn.
Perhaps the most surprising will be his interest in poetry. It’s a latent interest, to be sure, but one day he’ll hear a poem get recited or spy a book of them someone left lying somewhere, and he’ll poke and prod until you read some out loud for him. Poems describing stars and haiku will likely tickle his fancy the most, but he’s willing to give most forms of poetry a chance, excepting those that are just a little too silly for even his taste. (There once was a boy from Nerat? Honestly.)
Mal: You don't know me, son, so let me explain this to you once: If I ever kill you, you'll be awake. You'll be facing me, and you'll be armed.
Sir Warwick Harrow: You have to finish it, lad. You have to finish it. For a man to lay beaten… and yet breathing? It makes him a coward.
Inara: It's humiliation.
Mal: Sure. It would be humiliating. Having to lie there while the better man refuses to spill your blood. Mercy is the mark of a great man. [lightly stabs Atherton with the sword] Guess I'm just a good man. [stabs him again] Well, I'm all right.
With this interesting dichotomy of personality comes an equally interesting sense of honor. A paragon of the chaotic good alignment, Masikoth is his own moral compass, and finds he has little use for established laws and regulations. Oh, he’ll learn them, front to back and by the book alright, but only so he knows just how artfully he can work his way around them without really causing any trouble.
One might think it strange, then, that he has a severe and very dim view on injustice, but he’ll maintain that just because there’s a justice system in place doesn’t mean it’s just. The sort to take matters into his own hands (er, paws?), Mas isn’t afraid to rain down punishment on those what deserves it. He’ll never aim to stab someone in the back though, and indeed, will frequently prefer them to know he’s coming. It’s just a little more fun that way, personal image be damned.
Sir Warwick Harrow: You didn't have to wound that man.
Mal: Yeah, I know, it was just funny.
Mostly though, when he isn’t out fighting the good fight, he’s an absolute riot. A master of sotto voce and serious expressions, he’ll make an excellent partner in crime when it comes to pranks, and an even better companion for banter during long trips and random adventures. He might not have many stories to share from the start (unlike Qhynnveslacth, the big fat liar), but he’ll cultivate them like some might cultivate an art collection, storing the important ones away in your much more permanent mind.
For the most part though, he’s sharp as a whip, and can more than keep up - if not attempt to outpace - your sense of humor. If it isn’t subtle facial expressions (his features are surprisingly mobile), he’s always got something to say about everything, and it’s almost always amusing. Sure, he’s got his serious side, and that odd bit of ooey-gooey-lovey-ness that manages to afflict everybody now and then, but the use of his wit is where he really excels, and he crafts it perfectly so as to make it seem almost lazy, as if it’s so deep in his bones that he can’t even be assed to try to be funny. He just is.
Mal: I got no answers for you, Inara. I got no rudder. Wind blows northerly, I go north. That's who I am. Now, maybe that ain't a man to lead, but they have to follow.
This laid back, malleable, always willing to go with the flow personality might take him quite a few places you wouldn’t expect him to go. He might not seek leadership out, but if it’s asked of him he won’t shy away, and he won’t let you tuck your tail and high-tail it neither. He’ll drip sarcasm up and down about it to be sure, but the reality is that there’s people out there that need minds like yours and his, and who is he to keep you from it?
Windleadership - leading or seconding - is definitely where he’d like to start, give him a chance to really test the waters and see how people respond to his ideals. If the time comes, he’ll take the plunge and accept weyrleadership, but that’s a great big bag of cats that shouldn’t even be opened yet, and is perhaps best experienced in the moment. Just know he will shoulder any and all responsibility with the relaxed, just sense of honor and vast amusement he applies to everything else in his life.
Mal: But it ain't all buttons and charts, little albatross. You know what the first rule of flying is? Well, I suppose you do, since you already know what I'm about to say.
River: I do. But I like to hear you say it.
Mal: Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home.
It’s really flights that get his little bronze brain all out of whack, if only because it’s a little difficult for him to differentiate between love and lust - one always spills a little into the other for him. He understands the difference in theory, could probably give you a whole rant on the subject, but textbook knowledge of just can’t prepare one enough for the real thing, especially with a closet romantic like him.
Because of this, his flights and responses will be unique for each and every female, depending on his knowledge and/or appreciation of her. Random females for whom he has no personal investment in are easy enough to chase down, and can be treated with a rugged, smoldering kind of attentiveness that isn’t quite loving, but isn’t just mating either. Instead it’s some intense little trip between the two, one that may or may not continue after the flight is over.
But then feels get involved and hoo. Boy. Things get complicated real fast. Emotions’ll sneak up on him without him realizing himself sometimes - other times, it’ll hit him like a brick - but no matter what they tend to leave him fumbling and frustrated and numb-minded, wishing things weren’t so difficult to put into words. Even his actions won’t seem to speak as loud as he wants them to, and without his words and his actions what is he? Still, he can’t help but try, hoping that maybe things will work out in the end.
Mal: Ah, the pitter-patter of tiny feet in huge combat boots… SHUT UP!
Kids, though, those are a whole different matter. Once the flight bit’s said and done, he’s going to make an excellent father figure without even trying. This… will come out a little weirdly on the sands his first time, admittedly. He’ll be there. He’ll watch, with rapt and somewhat woozy attention as eggs are laid. He’ll scuttle along behind the gold and carefully scoop sand around the eggs to protect them with heat and sand. And then he’ll disappear. Days later, though, you might note that the eggs are positioned just a little bit differently, some shifted to one side or another for optimal heating, and the gold who laid them won’t have a clue as to why. He won’t want to fess up, but eventually you’ll be able to wheedle a sheepish admittance out of Mas.
Naturally, he’ll be likewise reluctant to admit that he likes youngsters of all shapes and sizes and levels of creepifying - even human ones. He might not have much tolerance for how loud they can be, but kids will definitely be more than just progeny or legacies in his eyes. They are children - in some cases, his children - and he’ll always hold them in a higher regard than he might others, even the ones he might not like.
Mal: Resupply, look for work, move along. We sniff the air. We don't kiss the dirt.
On the whole, Masikoth is a very complicated creature. There’s no one facet of him that’s stronger than the other, no bit of him that you can simply break off and analyze and determine to be fully him. It’s part of his charm, this depth of character. He’s a dragon who looks for a better future, always looking onwards and upwards, with looks back only to see how far you’ve come. He’ll never be exactly what you expect, and isn’t it sometimes just a little better that way?
M’oriiiii! Welcome to weyrlinghood at Xanadu Weyr! We’re so very excited to have you, and hope you’re looking forwards to having as much fun in the future as we are~.
Egg: Our egg theme this cycle was “Dystopia.” Though this can encompass quite a broad spectrum of things, ranging from video games to music, most of our eggs focused on novels, movies, and TV shows that fit the bill. As I’m sure you know, your egg was based off the TV Series “Firefly.” Physically, the egg is a representation of Serenity, with a splash of the dark red Mal paints her with in the movie of the same name, referencing the dystopian qualities of the series – in their attempt to create a perfect, placid society, they accidentally made monsters and tried to cover it up.
Dragon: Your dragon is based almost entirely off of Malcolm Reynolds, the questionably moral but undoubtedly wonderful star of the “Firefly” series. Since you mentioned really clicking with the egg’s mindtouches, and those were based almost entirely off of Mal, it simply made sense to continue the theme! Physically, he’s based on hot sand and time-worn metal, an homage to the space-western quality of the “Firefly” series. Like his egg, he’s blackened and dusky around the edges, no stranger to work, but this time he also bears streaks of heat, implying a creature always in some sort of transition between ground and sky.
Name meaning: Masikoth’s name was, for the most part, taken from Chinese used in the TV series. The ‘ma’ comes from ‘Mal,’ the ‘si’ comes from ‘zhao si’ meaning ‘to court death,’ and ‘ko’ comes from ‘tai kong,’ meaning ‘the sky; outer space.’ I’ve been pronouncing it Maz-ih-koth, but the final pronunciation – and indeed the entire way you play him - is up to you! Thank you SO MUCH for your excellence and tenacity – I can only hope I’ve done justice to what you’ve been looking for in a dragon!
<3 — Esiae
|Hatched||July 26th, 2015|