The first thing most people notice is Tevyn's size. It's a difficult thing to overlook. A big guy with a solid mass of muscle, the hard build of a man that works for a living, he stands six feet and four inches tall. With his broad shoulders and - y'know what? Let's just leave it at that: He's a big, muscular guy. Once that's out of the way, once a person copes with that, it's usually on to the finer details. His eyes, for example, are a remarkably pretty blue, a bright crystalline blue, though already showing lines at the corners from too much time squinting. Dark blond hair, lightened by the sun, varies in length from clipped to a few inches down to almost chin-length, depending on how long it's been since he last sat down in front of a pair of scissors. His beard is a similarly changing length, though usually kept a little trimmer out of habit.
Generally dressed down, he tends toward loose-fitting, comfortable attire with rather mundane shades of brown, gray, things like that. Not much of a chance for fashion among the herdbeasts, and old habits die hard: he just keeps the same bland look going. He seldom wears a shoulderknot, unless it's necessary, instead assuming most people can appropriately judge his rank as "unimportant."
The strong, silent type? Enh, sometimes.
Comfortable in isolation, Tevyn's perfectly willing to just hang back and let other people do the talking. That's not to say that he doesn't have opinions, or that they're not strong opinions, just that he's not running his mouth about them. Keeping his opinion to himself is perfectly fine by him. He's more the type to take action than worry about words. No strong ties to anyone, Tevyn's got a strong sense of self-reliance. He's not looking to anyone else to solve things for him, fix things for him, nothing. Of course, it also means that he's not interested in anyone's help, either: thanks, got it. A hard-worker when it comes to physical labor, he despises "book-learning." As a weyrbrat, he learned enough reading and writing to satisfy the Harper of his childhood, but most of that has long since been forgotten, rusted with disuse. It's not that he's stupid, not even really slow mentally, it's just that it's got no place in his life.
Born to an on-again, off-again couple at High Reaches Weyr, Tevyn took it upon himself at the age of thirteen to get as far from home as possible. It's not that he was unloved, per se, it's just that - as a weyrbrat - he was just sort of… there. His parents had their dragons and occasionally each other, and he wasn't really /necessary/ for their contentment. Joining the Beastcraft seemed natural to a boy who felt more at home among stables than caverns, and he actually flourished for a time within the Craft. But the feeling of being under someone's thumb, being at the beck-and-call of Masters and lessons, eventually grated on a young man who - at sixteen - already preferred keeping his own council. When the occasion arose to accompany Journeyman Perrick to Xanadu Weyr, he took it.