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Name: Risth
Color: Blue
Final Size: 27 3/4 dragonfeet
Impressee Name: Ranith/R'nith
Hex Color: #408396

Egg Name/Image

Reddish browns and yellows merge across the shell of this egg. The odd blending makes it seem as if it were speckled like sand on a beach. The colors seem to form very loose bands acroos the bottom of the shell.
-This egg is very silent. Almost unresponsive, as if it were indifferent to the candidates coming and going. It shrinks away, or seems to, from any outward touch or any attempt at contact. Only when someone sits or stands close by for several long minutes will the egg, tentatively, reach out and touch their minds. It seems to bring a faint scent of ocean breeze and sandy warmth, but beyond that only a faint curiosity is communicated.

Dragon Image


Hatching Message
With quick, eager movements the Sand Egg competed with the queen egg to be first. When the other cracked and revealed its occupant, the Sand Egg seemed to almost hop with indignation and redoubled its efforts. With loud, successive cracks like gunshots large pieces of the shell fell away until the whole egg was no more than so many fragments on the sand - and a blue hatchling was rolling among them trying to get to his feet.

Hatchling Name
The Daring

Hatchling Description
Patches of color flow across this blue's hide. They blend somewhat, but are nevertheless distinct from each other. The muted, grayish blue of his hide changes to milky white on his underbelly, beneath his neck and jaw, and on the undersides of his wings. Patches of dark ornament his ribs, legs, toes and tail, run the length of his spine and completely cover the backs of his wings. Between the wingbones the blue color darkens further. He isn't a giant but he certainly isn't a midget either. His legs and neck are heavily muscled, which gives him a slightly clunky appearance; almost stubby, and makes him seem bigger than he really is.

Public Impression Message
As The Daring Blue stumbles about the sands, knocking into candidates and reeling away, creeling at the top of his voice, the mood over the grounds seems to darken. The blue seems desperate, frightened and confused. Worry that he will disappear between begins to grow. The Daring Blue is his own worst enemy as he stumbles frequently on his increasingly frantic path, and catches his wing on his hind foot. The claws make small puncture wounds and he screams in agony, trying to disentangle himself. His efforts only threaten to rip his wing as well as puncture it and the clutch mother, aware of the growing danger to her baby, rears up and roars. In the confusion a lone figure runs forward to the young dragon, bravely ducking into the mess of writhing limbs. Against all odds (s)he lays hands on the offending foot and pulls it out and away from the wing, preventing further harm. Having moving the leg so fast, however, and having come upon the hatchling at a time when it was terrified, (s)he does not escape unscathed. Shrieking in pain the blue whirls and deals a violent slash to the (girl)boy's face and chest, claws digging deep and drawing blood which spatters on the sands. An instant later, however, the tone of the dragon's voice changes, and instead of pain there is worry and what sounds like remorse as the little blue hovers over the stricken (girl)boy.

Private Impression Message
As The Daring Blue struggles, his wing caught on his foot, the membrane pierced, you begin to feel something. A pain, behind your left shoulder. It's odd, it hurts, hurts so much, yet the pain doesn't feel like it's a part of you: it isn't in your skin, in your muscles or in your bones: it is just there. A phantom of something someone else feels. As you stare at the blue, you know suddenly the very great danger he is in: he could be flightless his whole life if that membrane tears. He could go between from pain and confusion! No one else is doing anything! Why?! Why?! Something within you snaps, and you rush forward. You don't care that his claws could slice you open, you don't care that he could crush you if he roles on top of you. Somehow you seem to understand his movements, where his claws will be, how he's going to move, and you manage to grab the offending leg. As you pull it free, however, the blue turns suddenly. You see a glimpse of gleaming claws, and then something collides with your side, hurling you to the ground.

At the same time as he attacks you, you suddenly feel something burst into your mind. It sweeps over you, crashing down on you, seems to pull at you as it slowly falls back. There is blood in your nose and mouth, but the reason you cannot breath is because of the growing tightness around your chest. It builds and builds and then, once again, the presence returns and comes crushing down upon you. This time, however, you welcome it: it brings relief, an easing of the pulsing ache in your side. You can tell that he did not draw blood, that it will barely even bruise, but your breath is gone nonetheless. Anguished words seem to form, like vague lines in the sand, only faintly there yet full of meaning and emotion. Oh! Bitter remorse floods your mouth, remorse and terrible sadness so painful that you have to fight not to burst into tears. Oh, oh, oh! R'nith! Oh no! What have I done? Oh no! Something is calling you, desperately, pleadingly, begging you to understand. He is so sorry, Risth is so incredibly sorry. Oh my Dearest, my Beloved, please forgive me! Oh, R'nith I did not mean to harm you! Oh, my Precious One - !

Personality
Risth's hasty nature is his downfall from the very moment that he is born. He's clever, intelligent, by no means a weakling: he simply doesn't think things through, and he has issues with following through on a project. Risth will jump off of a cliff to catch a butterfly, and only look down when he's in thin air. He'll start out meaning to find breakfast, but become distracted and go swimming instead. In training his attention will wander and he will break formation often. He wants to be first! Everything seems to be a race to him. Still, he's honest and has an absolutely adorable air about him. Risth is a happy dragon all around, so happy, in fact, that it is difficult to stay angry with him for very long. It isn't uncommon to find him romping around, playing with anything that he can get his claws on. Risth has a gift for making games, and his clutchmates will likely come to him first when they are eager for new fun. He may get into squabbles and a few arguments due to his hasty nature, but once he stops to think Risth will usually apologize and make peace offerings. He is fond of trinkets but does not hoard them. A shiny pebble that Risth fixates on may become a present for that pretty green he has a crush on, or a peace offering to the brown he wrestled with yesterday, or it may simply appear on R'nith's cot: a silent testament to Risth's love and devotion. Those who live close to Risth will prosper from it - which might be nature's way of making up for the hassle of keeping up with him. His high energy level and lack of sense will make weyrling training difficult, especially at first. It will take patient and loving guidance to lead this blue into adulthood.

Once he reaches full maturity Risth will have gained a bit more patience. His experiences as a weyrling and the guidance of his elders will have taught him to look before the leap. Still, it's never a sure thing. Risth will always have an impulsive streak, even if he's gained an appreciation for consequences. He's grown better at sticking with his work, but seems to have become lazy as well. Risth is still as happy as he ever was and still just as friendly, but now he'd rather find a sand pit to wallow in or a cliff to sunbathe. It isn't uncommon to find him lazing about in the gardens or relaxing belly-up in the lake. Suggest an interesting game to him, however, and Risth will show his old energetic side. He's quite happy to go with the flow, taking orders and yielding authority to the browns and bronzes of the weyr. After all, less responsibility means more opportunities to play in the ocean or have a nap. He can be counted upon to have a happy little quip ready, and will usually share them without thinking - true to his old nature.

While other dragons may find it hard to stay angry with Risth for long, many will find him to be too inconsistent. One minute lazing about, and the next up and running after something that looks interesting. His lack of interest in serious matters like Threadfall will lead some to write him off as childish and immature. Still, he will likely make a few true friends who will stick to him. Those who aren't annoyed by Risth will find him to be a caring, demonstrative friend who is there when he's needed. Risth has a knack for producing his small trinkets when his friends are depressed, and his good nature helps him to cheer others up without much difficulty.

Risth feels nothing one way or another toward thread. He flies to fight it because, in his own words, he feels "itchy" if he doesn't. Being a medium-sized blue he has decent endurance, and when Risth concentrates he can produce high quality flame. The trouble is getting him involved enough to care about it. Sometimes, if his bonded is not careful to hold Risth's attention, he will begin to daydream during Fall: missing whole clumps that fall right under his nose. Worse, while daydreaming Risth leaves himself and his rider open to scoring. If he's injured, Risth will begin to pay proper attention. It's all a matter of luck, though: one day they may meet a clump of thread that permanently removes them from the wing.

Risth is inconsistent with mating flights. At times a green can rise right over his head and he won't even blink. On other occasions he might all but drag a green into the air to get her to rise. Risth's nature will likely lead him into a few flights that could cause problems: chasing a green that another dragon is particularly fond of, for example, or failing to rise when a green that is fond of him wants him too. The ins and outs of love puzzle Risth, he tends to get along better with females who view a flight as being just a flight and nothing more. If he flies a green, great - he'll hang out with her until she gets tired of him or vice versa. He's not really capable of staying with one female, though.

Risth's bonded is constantly dragged along with him as he rushes into trouble. Puzzlement, anger and/or frustration will do nothing to change Risth's ways. Only by appealing to Risth's love for them may the rider control the dragon: because Risth absolutely adores his rider. They are his sun, his moon, his stars, his air. He would disobey a direct order from a queen dragon if his rider commanded it. Risth feels terrible about attacking his rider that first day, and often tries to make up for it. Although Risth would protect his rider with his life, there will be no leadership from this blue. He will always look to his rider for guidance and instructions. In certain cases, when Risth feels lazy, he may not do anything unless his rider tells him too. A firm but loving hand is needed to bring out the best in Risth.

Mind Voice
Risth's voice is the faint brush of flecks of sand, the touch of a soft sea-breeze, the scent of salt water. A faint, soft sound of ocean waves echoes as if from a far away land as he speaks, providing a pleasant, relaxing sensation of sound and feather-light touch. His words are whispered, no more than the brush of sand stirred up in the wind. You have to listen to hear him - the words might as well be etched in dry sand for all the impression they make on their own. When angered, he does not bellow, he does not growl. His voice does not grow in volume, but the hiss of sand suddenly becomes menacing: like a snake curled before your feet, and it seems to scratch painfully on the inside of your skull. The muted rumble of the waves deepens until your teeth seem to vibrate with the low-frequency pulses, and the scent of the breeze gains a touch of ozone smell... as if a storm were on the horizon...

Inspiration Protesilaus was one of the many leaders fighting on the side of the Greeks. He was a powerful warrior in his own right, of good lineage, fairly honorable. However, it was prophesied that the first Greek to land on Trojan soil would be the first to die. Understandably, when the Greeks arrived no one wanted to get off of the boats. When someone else decided that they would get out, Protesilaus figured he was in the clear and leapt from his boat. The trouble was, the first fellow threw his shield out and landed on that instead of the ground. Guess who was killed first?

Name and Inspiration Risth, from First. Protesilaus was the first Greek to land on Trojan soil. He was also the first to die.

Name: Wridith
Color: Green
Final Size: 23 3/4 dragonfeet
Impressee Name: Ky't
Hex Color: #18c784

Egg Name/Image

Pseudo Egg
This egg is colored in many shades. The yellows stand out in places, as if it were making a feeble attempt to be taken for a golden egg. However, tinges of white and red on the shell, as well as its small size, bely the half-hearted attempt, and the whole shell is muted: as if it had given up and was resigned to its fate.
-The Pseudo Egg seems to lean towards the Shield Egg. It is oval in shape, but the slightly pointed end is aimed directly at the large grey egg. The egg seems reserved where the candidates are concerned. There is a faint spark of life within it, a warmth that is noticeable only when one draws near to it. Still, there is a lack of definition to the touch, as if it were holding itself back, reserving judgement in any and all forms. This, along with its small size, will mean that most candidates will become easily bored with it. Those that stick around, however, will gradually feel a kind of acceptance and a warm touch; as if the egg is saying "Well, all right - if you insist." The faintest scent of flowers will tease the edges of their senses, before the egg withdraws completely in firm dismissal.

Dragon Image


Hatching Message
Seemingly in response to the conflict between its siblings the Pseudo Egg, which previously had only been twitching, burst into sudden, violent rocking motions. There was a definite air of hurry about it, as if the hatchling sensed the conflict and felt compelled to respond in some way. Black cracks and gaps in the shell contrast with the muted colors as, with a final stretch, the hatchling's head breaks free of the shell. The little green gives a cry of surprise and slight distress as her egg rolls over, and a clawed foot breaks free - scrabbling on the sand for a foothold to stop the roll. Clawing and wriggling, she frees herself from the shell - making a hole and stepping out through it, leaving a good part of the egg intact.

Hatchling Name
The Prized

Hatchling Description
As the Prized Green hatchling shakes herself off and looks around she draws quite a few curious looks for her large size. She is as big as a small blue. She, herself seems unaware of it: looking around with polite curiosity at all the attention, trilling in a sweet little baby croon that expresses curiosity and delight at the new sights, sounds and smells. Her colors are intense and striking. Bright green contrasting with the dark shade of her wings, snout and toes. A shade in between the two glides down from her jaw to her throat and dusts the area around her eyes. Her underbelly and undersails lean towards white, but on her neck white spots gleam like jewels - as if she were wearing a necklace or collar. Her wings are slightly small for her size, which might turn out to be a handicap in the future.

Public Impression Message
Meanwhile, the Prized Green was making her way back the exact way that she had come. There were no pauses this time, as she no longer had a brother to hurry along on his way, and she seemed confident of her course. She seemed a little surprised at first to see Mironth and T'rel still there, but she shook her head and pushed Mironth unceremoniously out of her way with the same careless confidence that she had exhibited earlier. He was between her and her goal, the silly thing. Having gotten past him, the Prized Green sat down and stared unblinkingly up at her chosen rider.

Private Impression Message
You feel suddenly as if a strong wind has sprung up. It cools the sensations of heat from the sands for a moment, blowing a strong scent of flowers to your nose. More than a scent, it seems to have brought some kind of seed. A small, jewel bright thing that burrows into your mind like a white diamond glittering in darkness. With somewhat startling rapidity, that little jewel of a seed seems to sprout into an endless field of red and white flowers: all gleaming softly and waving in the gentle breeze that you feel MUST be blowing on you... yet you are in the hatching grounds, there is no breeze, and not a flower in sight. It's difficult to believe, but the image of that field of glowing flowers seems to have been placed in your mind. A voice calls from across it, a wordless cry - a summons. You hear her as easily as if she were right beside you, and longing to answer swells within you. Then, abruptly, she is there: right in front of you.
Now, she says, sounding enormously satisfied. They are taken care of, and I can attend to you, my Dearest. My... Ky't? She tilts her head slightly, considering you. Ky't? Are you well? She extends her nose to bump your hand very gently. I am sorry it took so long, but I thought you might be rather upset if they had harmed your friend. Forgive me, dear heart? She sounds confident that you will, and not at all apologetic: she had only done what she knew had to be done. Those boys couldn't have squabbled forever, someone had to take them to task.
I am Wridith, and you... you are Mine. And a wave of love, almost overwhelming in its intensity, sweeps against you and over you.

Personality
Mellowness and peace are the gifts Wridith brings to others. Her voice alone can be very soothing, and her laid-back, accepting nature only adds to the effect. She is prone to losing herself in thought, spending hours on end contemplating matters only discussed with Ky't. Wridith never hurries into anything, not because she is lazy: because the deepest part of her character is made of caution and patience. This is shown in everything she does; even the slightest movement is slow, well thought out, as if she has planned everything. Any new information she is given, be it gossip, a secret told by a friend, a new lesson in weyrling practice, will be churned slowly, carefully, thoroughly through her mind as she sifts through it down to the finest detail. She doesn't play much, it requires too much spontaneity, but Wridith enjoys watching others engage in play. She can often be found laying down peacefully on the sidelines, watching the boys wrestle or the girls gossip, smiling and thinking; perhaps offering a comment or two, participating but in her own way. Any judgement or decision that she makes is final, because by the time she makes it she will have thought through it over and over already. Her cautious nature will lead her to be a bit distant and cold with strangers until she's had time to properly observe and process them, but she will usually warm up and take a liking to them. While Wridith may take her share of bullying, she is not perturbed by it, and generally doesn't let it bother her. She can stand up for herself when she needs to, and she knows it. That's enough for her. Though she is careful, Wridith is also very curious and loves to learn. If someone she trusts is there to guide her through it she'll try anything at least once.

As an adult she is largely unchanged, though she is less obvious about her shyness with strangers. Her experiences and thoughts as a weyrling have refined themselves, and the end product is a surprisingly cultured green. She knows a good deal about a very wide range of topics, though she does have her favorites. Music never fails to catch her attention, and, unusually for a dragon, she enjoys humming softly along with the notes. She's very fond of children, perhaps because she wishes she could be as spontaneous as they are - though she is not envious of them. The youngsters in the lower caverns will quickly discover that she's completely fine with them climbing all over and around her, and tired mothers will soon discover that she is as faithful and protective a babysitter as any one of them. Wridith is reluctant to give advice in any form, mostly because she knows that giving advice is a dangerous thing to do, but when she does relent and offer her opinion her words will often be wise and fair. Other greens and sometimes even the boys will come to her to settle their conflicts. Even if Wridith doesn't like someone she will still treat them with respect and fairness, which makes her an ideal judge and mediator. However she will never be anything more than polite with those in her bad books; she will never trust or confide in them, and will not go out of her way to be especially kind to them.

Wridith gets along well with just about everyone: even the dragons with somewhat difficult natures. Her patience and kindness wins her plenty of admirers, but as with all other things she is very slow to consider anyone a true friend. There is like, there is really like, then there is friendship. A few may even progress to love. Wridith is quietly loving to her friends and loved ones: not demonstrative, but there for them in all the little ways, supporting and encouraging them so subtly that they probably wouldn't notice unless she stopped. Her wingmates will like her, but not consider her to be an especially good fighter. Which won't really bother her at all. Many dragons will come to her with their troubles, and often the children she is fond of will confide in her and come to her when they are upset.

Thread makes Wridith very uncomfortable. She feels obligated to fly against it, and to try to do her best, but fighting just isn't in her nature. She doesn't have a scrap of viciousness in her, not even against the enemy she was born to destroy. In this, as is all matters, she looks to her rider to provide guidance. Wridith will carry them through the fall, following their directions perfectly and doing her best to help; but if they were to become incapacitated she would fall to pieces - feeling the pressure of hasty decisions and floundering, trying to stall for time to decide.

In her romantic life Wridith is just as careful. She will be very late to rise, and her cycles will seem to be somewhat slower than normal. At first she may play the field; testing out the males who fly her, trying to decide which of them she fancies. In the end, however, she will find a male - be they blue, brown or bronze - and settle down with them completely, forsaking all others. Her mate will find that they are on the receiving end of devotion nearly as strong as what Wridith feels for her rider, this affection will transfer somewhat to her mate's rider, though not to the same degree. She will take a semi-motherly viewpoint over them, looking after their physical and mental wellbeing as best she can. Her flights are playful affairs. Though she does not play tricks she does conduct herself with an air of happiness, joyfulness that is contagious and leaves even the disappointed feeling uplifted. Being a rather large green she is able to drag the flights out as long as possible, taking her time and prolonging the joy of the flight. Many will participate simply for the contagious happiness that lingers for days afterward.

Ky't is Wridith's guidance, her parent, her heartbeat, her breath, what sustains her. She counts upon her rider to make the sudden decisions that Wridith is unable to: and trusts their choices implicitly. Wridith will follow any order, any directive, given by her rider: even a command to suicide. She firmly believes that they know what is best, and is willing to follow them wherever they might go. At the same time, she gives all that she is, everything that she can, to love and support them. Every second of every day, with every beat of her heart, Wridith's love for them glows through their bond like the sun: through sorrow, joy, through conflict. She is there for them, and she always will be.

Mind Voice Subtle scents and fragrances tease the nostrils while Wridith speaks, creating an enticing and somewhat distracting aroma. When her mood is high this fragrance seems to be swept in by a strong breeze, and increases in intensity. The faintest sound of wind chimes creates a silvery background noise that accents each of her words. Gradually, as she speaks a field of flowers blossoms slowly in the recipient's mind. Growing as if from a seed, each bloom seems glow as brightly as a jewel and is graced with its own, individual color. By the time a field has grown the flowers' glow pulses in time with each of Wridith's words and sways gently back and forth as they would under the influence of a soft breeze. When angered or saddened, these blooms seem to shrivel inward, loosing the colors, becoming grey and dead while the sweet sound of the chimes becomes discordant and abrasive.

Inspiration Briseis, princess of a far away land. Achilles killed her family and took her as a slave, but later the pair came to love each other as a wife and husband. She was taken from him by Agamemnon, and afterward Achilles refused to fight at all. Thankfully, Briseis was returned safe and sound. No hard feelings... right?

Name and Inspiration Wridith, from Wife and Bride.

Name: Rowoth
Color: Brown
Final Size: 33 1/4 dragonfeet
Impressee Name: Katian/K'tan
Hex Color: #dd7d30

Egg Name/Image

Rain Egg
Greys and blues form shapes like clouds across this egg: swirling and blending together fluidly. On one side the clouds seem to have been pulled across the shell: making long, blurred lines that could pass for rainfall viewed at a distance.
- There is a strange, misty feeling in the area immediately around this egg. Once candidates are within about a foot of its shell their skin starts to tingle - as if tiny droplets of water were making contact with them. It is invigorating, and a faint scent of exotic spices tingles at the edges of their noses. The egg, when touched, seems to gently reach back at the mind close to it: tentative but not shy. Reserved, but friendly enough in its own way. There is a sense that it is holding itself back, yet is perfectly happy to receive those who come to it. Despite the fact that it acknowledges the humans around it, its touch leaves very little lasting impression on their minds.

Dragon Image


Hatching Message
Knowing that it's time had come, the Rain Egg began to rock in earnest. It did not waste any further time rolling and shaking; it expanded, as if the hatchling inside were stretching out, and then exploded. The little brown within had, indeed, been stretching, and as the egg disintegrated it flopped awkwardly on its back, trying to right itself and squeaking in surprise.

Hatchling Name
The Unaided

Hatchling Description
The main color of this brown's body is a muted, tawny shade. Along his sides, under his belly and across the surface of his wings it changes into a mix of caramels and lighter, honey shades. The undersides of the sails are a uniform, pleasantly light color. On their backs are darker, richer, lines of color that follow the wing bones. On one wing this color flows down to the wing joint. On the other it does not. This tips of his toes are all a very dark shade that does not merge with his hide but also does not go past the first joint. This same shade colors the tip of his muzzle and the tip of his tail, though in those locations it blends smoothly into the main color of his hide and creates a pleasant accent effect. His body is, oddly enough, proportioned so that he does not look at all like a baby: his feet are not over-large, his head is not too big, his wings are not gangly. He looks for all the world like a lithe, perfectly proportioned adult that just happened to be shrunk down to hatchling-size.

Public Impression Message
The Unaided Brown looks around and gets to his feet. He makes eye contact with the Radiant Gold, who actually pauses her search to come over to him and touch noses. He seems to smirk a little, accepting her attention and returning it a little. She chitters a little and glances over her shoulder, then back at him. The Unaided Brown glances in the same direction with a definite air of interest this time. When he returns her nuzzle this time he is less reserved, almost grateful. He gets to his feet and heads straight for the candidates. Unlike the Valiant Brown who was moving through the group, the Unaided Brown simply goes right through them until he is behind them, then moves along around them heading for one of the corners. Katian is there, and the Unaided Brown steps up behind him and waits patiently. For a few moments it seems that the brown's quiet approach was too quiet - Katian does not turn. The Brown tilts his head, stands on his hind legs and snuffles at the base of Katian's neck: blowing air across it finally in a snort. At last, Katian catches on and turns around.

Private Impression Message
At first, in the chaos of the hatching you think that the whispers originate from the onlookers. They are hardly more than a hint of sound at first, perhaps speaking in a foreign language that rolls smoothly off of the tongue. That's when you notice that there don't seem to be any harsh consonants, no hissing sibilants, merely a murmur: low, soothing, only faintly there. It is most definitely not the watching crowd: their combined, excited voices could never create something this... melodic. Yes, melodic. And peaceful. Something about the voices conveys harmony and relaxation; a bit like the humming of the dragons, but smoother. It's a delightful sound, in truth, and inspires a desire to search for the source.
Hmmm, one voice rises up out of the group - a deep voice, more masculine than the others. It sounds contemplative, reflective, as if it is musing on something of deep importance. The background chorus continues to make their soft susurrations, now with a joyful edge added in. They echo the words of the distinct voice faintly, adding it into their melody of soft syllables. I am curious, the voice says. Suddenly you feel something snuffling softly at the base of your neck. It snorts and blows your hair about, tickling now. K'tan?
You turn, and a brown hatchling is behind you, looking you up and down with patient interest. He blinks, and though his face does not change you can feel his smile.
Good of you to notice me, he says, and the background chorus of voices laugh softly together. I call myself Rowoth. You may also call me that, if you wish. As I said - I am curious. His tail swishes slightly and then curls around his feet. What is a ... ca-bi-net? He pronounces the word carefully, as if trying very hard to get the pronunciation right. And why are you thinking of that instead of my food?

Personality
Even as a hatchling this brown will be stiff and focused. He will never play, he will never fight, he will never relax until the exact moment that he lays himself down to sleep. Rowoth is content to sit on the sidelines of everyday life, to observe silently but alertly, perhaps secretly laughing with his rider but allowing nothing to slip past the cracks and show outwardly. Aside from his somewhat freakish, sharp focus this brown seems to have no natural talents. He excells at nothing but discipline, though to be fair he is no worse at most things than the other hatchlings. His first attempts at things will often be disastrous failures: painful to watch. Yet some inner tenacity and pride drives Rowoth onward. He will show no signs of embaressment or of being discouraged. He will pick himself up and try again withouth even dusting himself off. Threadfighting and everything to do with it seems to fascinate him. Rowoth will spend hours during threadfall standing as still as a statue, tense, gazing in the direction of the fall, intensly focused: as if he were listening to the fall from afar - willing it to end well. Fall over the weyr will have him dashing madly back and forth across the ground, craning his neck to look up, creeling and bugling in his baby voice, fanning his wings and generally making a fuss. He isn't afraid: he is frustrated. He wants to fight! If he has to work a little harder than the others, what does it matter? The end result is important, it is his duty to toil: and to toil mightily! Watch him, stick with him through the first clumsy steps! See him spread his wings and soar!

Rowoth's intense focus and drive will pay off in the long run. He will emerge from weyrling training with flying colors, perhaps bearing a scar or two and definately with plenty of stories: but already with praise for his bravery and skill. He excells not because of talent but because of his endless practice, memorization, and the fire burning within him that pushes him on. His frame has filled out, his muscles bulked up, his gaze is sharp and he walks with pride even among the bronzes of the weyr. His inner focus has not dimmed, but it seems to have developed a cycle. As falls come and go so will his taut concentration. The closer to a fall the more intense he grows, until just after a fall is over and he loosens ever so slightly: beginning the long climb and drop again. It is at that point that he will be his most social, perhaps even relax a bit with the others in his wing or comfort the injured. He has a slightly acerbic sense of humor, though he seems honorable by all accounts. Rowoth has an edge of contempt for those naturally gifted dragons who breeze through life and don't seem to take things seriously. Such dragons will find little sympathy from him if they should ever fall short and discover that talent only gets you so far.

Rowoth's nature will mean that very few will want to stick around him in the beginning. His lack of interest in play will mean that his clutchmates will probably chose more accomidating companions, so while he will not be on poor terms with them he will have few good friends among them. Rowoth gets along better with older dragons who admire his focus and determination as well as his maturity, even if some may feel saddened that such a promising young dragon won't take advantage of his youth. As an adult Rowoth will be considered a solid companion, a trustworthy dragon, and will be liked by his wingmembers - even if some of them are a bit nonplused by him.

Threadfall is the culmination of everything Rowoth works for. The ultimate challenge, the ultimate thrill, ecstasy and agony at once. Rarely will Rowoth be as happy as when he is flaming and fighting, and rarely will he appear so relaxed. He is validating his existence, fulfilling his purpose. He has learned well, and everything simply seems to flow to him. Sometimes he will seem faintly surprised at the end of a fall, as if he is saying "That's it?" He will perform well wherever he is placed, though he will have a tendency to react angrily when others cause trouble in the wing. Those who don't follow formation and orders will have to deal with a sulking Rowoth for quite some time afterward. Rowoth is not ambitious, he has no desire to lead, he only wishes to fight and to return to rest afterward; perhaps to spend some quiet time with his rider or his close friends.

Mating flights will draw very little reaction from Rowoth. On the occasion that even he feels too tense, Rowoth will participate to relieve stress - flights are one area where he lets himself go and relaxes. The catching doesn't matter to him, it is the act of chasing that he wants. He will be a polite paticipant, complementing the female, respecting her personal space, admiring her. Rowoth would not mind a consistent mate, but he knows that one would be hard to find. After all: any mate of his must accept that she is always second-most important, and must accept that he is not very demonstrative or affectionate. It's not easy to find a female that is so calm and accepting. If he does find one, Rowoth will likely put a little effort into flying her, but he will not demand much from her: he doesn't mind being part of a group of boys if that's what she wants.

His rider is the only one who can see past Rowoth's drive and determination, because they're the only one Rowoth will allow to see beyond them. Rowoth places absolute trust in his rider, and has the utmost faith in their potential and abilities. He will expect great things from his bonded as a result, but is not judgmental if they ever fall short. He will forgive their mistakes and share their pains, doing his best to ease any and all burdens they may have in their lives. His human will be the only one to know his secret pains, hopes and the sadnesses he encounters and feels. To his rider alone, Rowoth shows his tender side.

Mind Voice
Rowoth's voice is a combination of voices that don't seem to have any gender to them: they range in pitch from low to high and change timbre quite often. They all work in harmony together, however, and seem to be singing. When he is not speaking, syllables (rarely ending in consonants) will flow together to form new words that have no meaning but are melodic, symphonic even. He has remarkable control over it and can modulate it to produce the exact effect that he wishes for. As he speaks the words seem to flow out of him, as if the crowd of voices were working together to give speech for the dragon. The words will change timbre as he speaks, so a sentence that starts with a seemingly male voice may change to a femine one and back again before it's even half over. A strange, sharp scent accompanies these voices. It is pungent and seems to burn slightly, but it is not unpleasant. Underneath it there is a faint, slightly sweet taste that brings to mind sad yet happy moments: leaving home to strike out on your own, partings between good friends, the swift, merciful death of a loved one who lived a long, fruitful life and suffered very little at the end.

Inspiration Ajax the Greater, hailed as one of the bravest warriors fighting for Greece. Ajax alone among all the others was unaided by the Gods: what talent and victory he gained he gained himself.

Name and Inspiration Rowoth, from Sorrow. Ajax, unconquered by man, was conquered in the end by his own sorrow. He died by his own hand, fallen upon his sword.

Name: Ardanth
Color: Blue
Final Size: 29 3/4 dragonfeet
Impressee Name: Dalen/D'len
Hex Color: #8fa8bc

Egg Name/Image

Marble Egg
Blue, purple and white are splashed across the egg, merging, growing darker and lighter in veins of color. Hints of green appear when all the colors cross each other. Tiny white spots spaced evenly and smoothly across all of the colors give it an appearance like stone.
- This egg seems perky, cheerful even. It's mind touch is like the sun peaking out from behind a cloud. Fingers that touch the shell will find it to be warm but not hot near the bottom, and cool but not cold at the top, and the surface is smooth as glass. It's one of the medium sized eggs, placed quite close to the shell of the queen egg and close to the mother's resting place: as if the dragonchild within was much beloved and worthy of special care. It seems eager to meet the candidates, even seems to test them playfully at times: flitting in close to their minds, and darting back away again, leaving a sensation almost like laughter behind it. Not cruel laughter, infectious laughter. The kind that washes away gloom and depression, bringing a smile to all but the most determined of faces. Although the egg is always friendly, there seems to be a faint air of disappointment whenever it plays this way: as if the humans were falling short of unknown expectations. It doesn't seem to hold this against them, but the air of being let down is unmistakable.

Dragon Image


Hatching Message
With determined, methodical movements the Marble Egg rocks, twists and turns. Tapping noises can be heard within, accompanied by small chirps and chattering. It almost looks cute. Finally, the egg extends, then returns to its previous state: no holes are visible, but it's now definitely cracked. With a pop, a piece of shell from another area snaps off and goes flying. In short successive bursts the same thing happens all across the rest of the shell until, finally, with a loud CRACK like breaking stone the egg splits and another blue hatchling rolls out.

Hatchling Name
The Survivor

Hatchling Description
This blue's base color is a dusty, grey blue that melds smoothly into white grey on his legs, muzzle and tail. The very tips of his toes and tail are a darker blue grey that blends with the white of his hide but fades much more abruptly and with a smaller degree of gradience. On his wings, on his shoulders, the dusty blue grey of his hide melds smoothly into darker blues and lighter grey. He is large, almost as large as a brown, but his build is that of a feline; sleek, trim, and rippling with muscles under his soft hide. He seems very flexible, stretching his neck out and about, yawning and stretching his legs out one by one; spreading the toes. There is no rush, no urgency in his movements; now that he is out of his shell he seems willing to take his time. His eyes whirl with hunger, but he controls himself and makes no overt sign of displeasure as he looks around at the candidates and his siblings.

Public Impression Message
The Survivor, who had crouched and cowered along with the other hatchlings when the Radiant Gold had punished the Caustic Blue, now got to his feet. For the first time he moved away from his egg's location. He cautiously approached the general area of the Caustic Blue, throwing a heedful glance over his shoulder at the Radiant Gold. She turned green and blue eyes to him and seemed to smirk, and he apparently took that as permission. He strode up to the Caustic Blue, bending over to sniff him gently. The other blue turned his head away, eyes flashing red, looking surly and grumpy. Of course, it was difficult to blame him after the way he'd been... disciplined by the Radiant Gold. The Survivor didn't seem offended. He nuzzled the Caustic blue once just behind his jaw in a comforting sort of way, then straightened and moved on. Again, he threw a furtive glance at the queen hatchling, but she was ignoring him completely now. Perking up instantly, he pranced forward: looking almost shamefully cheerful.

He stopped before Keokie and Dalen. Sniffing the girl curiously, he threw her a radiant look and then sat down in front of Dalen: staring up at the young man.

Private Impression Message
Something tickles your nose as the Survivor Blue approaches. He isn't looking at you, precisely, but you sense his scrutiny. The tickling becomes stronger and stronger, smelling a bit like dust. Slowly a very strange sensation steals up on you. The hatching cavern is large, but for some reason your brain is telling you that you are in an even LARGER space. It's so disorienting that you have to close your eyes to avoid a rush of dizziness. In the formless darkness behind your eyes a landscape is painted. Cracked stone floors of marble inlaid with gold, ivory... covered in a very fine film of dust. Columns... rows and rows of columns. Marble, alabaster, granite, so many different columns of different styles, yet all working seamlessly together. Some are cracked and tumbling, some pristine, some halfway in between. A wind stirs the dust and small rubble gently, and somewhere behind it you hear the faintest echo of a voice. It is bounced and distorted off of the pillars so many times that you can't quite understand it. It is remarkable how such a detail, elaborate scene could've bloomed so suddenly in your mind. It's like nothing you've ever seen or imagined, so why would your subconscious or conscious mind have brought it before your eyes.
The voice laughs. It is an ageless voice, at once sounding young and very old. Deep, but with a lightness and joyful spirit that could be childlike or ancient: there is no distinction.
Ah, D'len, it says, laughter shaking the voice's timbre slightly. My D'len. It sighs, a happy sound that stirs another gust of wind and dust-scent. The voice is very fond of you, you feel that quite clearly. It... loves you. The sensations die down slightly, and you are aware once more of the less ethereal sensations of the hatching ground. Sound returns, you hadn't even noticed its absence before now, as does the heat. You feel that you should be able to open your eyes without becoming dizzy.
The dusty-blue hatching is sitting before you, waiting patiently, staring up into your eyes lovingly.
Better? It asks, I did not mean to overwhelm you, but it appears that I have. The voice laughs, and a corresponding flash of bright blue rolls along the hatchling's eyes. I am Ardanth, D'len, he says, I shall remain with you always. The last Ardanth says with satisfied decisiveness, as if he had just made the decision and is pleased with it.

Personality
Ardanth is a quirky hatchling. Bright, energetic and into everything. He is a typical youngster: going, going, going all day long and then collapsing at the end of the day with a huge smile on his face. He's intelligent enough, always ready with a little quip or a friendly word. Though he has a temper on him - what young man doesn't? - he also has a good head on his shoulders and knows when and how to keep it. He likes play in any and all forms, whether it's a game of tag, hide and seek, a swim or a rough and tumble wrestling match. He's especially fond of swimming and gets along as well in the water as he does on land. Physically he has wonderful endurance and likes to go on long walks or swims with his bonded. He's curious about the world outside the weyr and looks forward eagerly to the day when he's an adult. Ardanth has big dreams about his future, and isn't shy about talking to others about them. He doesn't doubt himself or his ability to achieve great heights, and is yet unaware that, as a blue, the best that he could hope for is - at most - to be a wingsecond. Other hatchlings will find him a pleasant and creative playmate, and adult dragons will likely be amused by his precocious nature. For some reason, Ardanth always strikes exactly the right chord with females: be they human or draconic. His handsome exterior is a help in that area as well. He's a lady's man right from the beginning, and will likely have a fan club of respectable size by the time he's an adult.

Once fully grown Ardanth will be one of the best wingriders in the weyr. He's still energetic and ready for a good game, but he's also cooled down somewhat and gained the ability to be serious about a situation. His head isn't in the clouds as often; he's come to realize his limitations. But he's also learned how to work within them to be the best that he can; and in some cases even how to surpass them. His daydreams of being a champion threadfighter have driven him to do his very best in wing drills and weyrling lessons, and he will likely graduate from weyrlinghood close to the top of the list. He still loves long swims, but now enjoys the greater thrill of sweepriding. Ardanth loves to go out for hours and hours and just fly; getting to know his weyr's territory like the back of his hand. He delights in visiting new holds, new places: an explorer through and through, always wishing to go further and further. Sometimes he becomes restless in between sweep-riding, but he can usually wheedle permission to go out anyway. Gathers are a delight, as are visits to other weyrs.

Other dragons will get along very well with Ardanth. His good nature will win him many friends and admirers: especially females. Not all of them will be dragons, either. Ardanth isn't shy about talking to humans. Being a fairly large blue, he is still able to hold his own in a play-wrestle with most browns; and he frequently indulges in that area. Jealousy is one issue he may have difficult with, however; his attraction to the ladies may step on the toes of a few other male dragons - especially if their preferred females take a liking to Ardanth. Ardanth takes it all in stride, however, and all in all manages to remain fairly popular with others in the weyr. His wingmates consider him to be an excellent fighter and a valuable part of the team. In fact, some worry about what they'd do without him.

Threadfall is always fun for him. Ardanth's weakness is that he doesn't quite take it seriously enough. He'll follow wing formations, take orders and provide and excellent support when needed, but he treats the whole thing like one big game. His ability, as a blue, to be more nimble and dodge danger doesn't help this tendency. It's not uncommon for him to pull a fancy maneuver just to show off: and to get away without hurting himself. He's one of the rare dragons who can show off in a Fall and do it faultlessly. His wingleader and his bonded, and even the weyrleader, can yell all that they want: it won't stop Ardanth from having the time of his life during a fall.

Being popular with the ladies doesn't necessarily mean that Ardanth steps around. He does participate in flights quite often, but those who pay attention will notice that, generally, he keeps to a small group females that he likes and admires. Adranth is very sensitive to delicate matters in the field of romance, and if he senses that another dragon has strong feelings for a particular green he will pass up the opportunity to participate in the flight. He likes his little group of favorites, and is content to settle with them. He's not possessive, however; if a green loses interest in him he will not object. Conversely, i a new green catches his interest he isn't above attempting to add her to his list. He treats all of 'his' females with respect and care, making sure to spend time with each of them but not to show favoritism to any.

His bonded is his best friend - his center pin. The one who makes life worth living. Ardanth shares everything with his rider, and doesn't consider the day to be complete until they've done something fun. He tells them his dreams, his adventures from the day, his thoughts, his troubles, and listens when they do the same. He is protective, but not overbearing; letting his rider test their limits and strengths. When they need support, he's there and he expects them to do the same for him. He'll never let his rider very far out of his sight, and enjoys everything more when they take part in it. As far as Ardanth is concerned the world could fall down around them and things would still be all right - as long as they are together.

Mind Voice
Ardanth speaks in a voice that seems to be made of echos. They sometime have a disorienting quality, as if they were bouncing back and forth between many objects in an enormous room - marble pillars, perhaps, in a spacious hall of stone. A faint, dusty, ancient smell tingles on the edges of your senses and tickles your nose. Many people will sneeze the first time that Ardanth speaks to them. There is a sense of age, of great dignity, stateliness. His voice is a deep baritone, even as a hatchling he sounds closer to adult age. Getting past the power and age behind his voice, it's actually very velvety and smooth. Rich in tone and inflection, it is a voice that implies strength and dignity.

Inspiration Aeneas, one of the princes of Troy, was warned by the gods when the Greeks found their way into the city. Though he wanted to fight, he was told to flee, and he took his household with him. It is said that his descendants founded Rome: one of the greatest and cruelest empires in the world.

Name and Inspiration Ardanth, from Dardanian.
The Dardanians were a group of warriors led by Aeneas. Those that escaped fled with him to Italy.

Name: Chaiteth
Color: Green
Final Size: 22 1/2 dragonfeet
Impressee Name: Allea
Hex Color: #012614

Egg Name/Image

Granite Egg
The Granite egg is all dark blues and greys. Bands of light and dark color are spread across the entire shell, and speckling patterns are spread out across the entire surface. In some places the spots are in sharp focus, unmerged with any other colors. However, the majority of the speckling is blurred faintly and looks slightly stretched.
- Floating on the edges of the clutch, the granite egg reclines with the poise of a feline on the sands. It's on the smaller side, but by no means the smallest of the clutch. There is little sand pilled around it, and it stands like a rock; with every appearance of being unmovable. Upon approach it gives the impression of friendliness, but also a sense of mischievous calculation. There is no question that it is enjoying itself, but likewise the candidates will feel very strongly that it is making judgements. While not unkind, it seems amused at any and all attempts to make contact with it. Any connections will occur because the egg allows it, because it is interested and wants to know more about you. Beyond a gentle acknowledgement to let candidates know that it means them no real harm, the Granite Egg neither offers nor accepts anything. In point of fact, it seems to slyly wheedle candidates into leaving - going to other eggs and ignoring it, allowing it to ponder what it has learned about them.

Dragon Image


Hatching Message
The last of all the remaining eggs, the Granite Egg was now watched with fierce determination by all the remaining candidates. Whatever color was inside, it was the last hope any of them had to impress. Other than lazy, smooth rocking motions the egg was hardly showing any signs of life at all. It had been revolving steadily in a circle the entire hatching, as the baby dragon within tested the shell and probed for weakness; working with methodical patience. With a sudden triumphant movement, the egg thrashed, rocked, and then split violently as six limbs - four feet and two wings - burst through its walls all at once. Without hesitating, the hatchling flexed and shook and soon the entire egg seemed to simply dissolve into tiny fragments as the hatchling utterly demolished its prison. The green stood still, catching her breath, breathing heavily but unmistakably triumphant, surrounded by the remains of her shell.

Hatchling Name
The Faithful

Hatchling Description
Deep, deep dark green, this hatchling glistens with moisture as she gets to her feet. The green has a cold, regal air despite her small size. Her eyes are set deeply in her skull and they seem to be constantly surrounded by shadows. This enhances the light of her eyes which is, in truth, no greater than that of other dragons; but seems to be because it shines out of darkness. She has an air of delicacy that is not fragility, but more like the patterns of frost on a window. As egg goop dries on her hide it becomes apparent that not all of the sparkling was because of the moisture. Flecks of lighter color fall backward beneath her wings where they join her body. They stand out against her hide and seem to sparkle: like stars caught in mist. Her underbelly is dark, the same shade trails down her spine and over her neck in stripes. The very tip of her snout is marked by a startlingly light patch of green that blends into the rest of her hide.

Public Impression Message
The Faithful Green snorted gently and closed her eyes, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a sigh. Then she fanned her wings and strode straight for the row of candidates. Weaving expertly in between them, she turned and began walking through the row towards her target. She would pause now and then to sniff someone, but never for long. She had an air of looking for someone in specific, as if she already knew who her rider was and simply wasn't quite sure what they looked like. The large crowd of candidates seemed to be only a minor irritation to her. Even when someone was in her way she made no offer of violence, merely squeezed by or gently nudged them behind the knees to make them move. She was a girl on a mission, but she did not forget her manners!

Finally she seemed to sense who she was looking for. Far from rushing in, however, The Faithful Green sat down and looked for all the world as if she were grinning. She waited a moment, her eyes whirling gently, then she strode forward to sit herself down before them; looking up with gentle eyes.

Private Impression Message
The heat of the Ista sands, so overwhelming at this time of day, seems, for some reason, to slowly leave you. You are aware, at first, only of a faint unease: as if something were sneaking up behind you, stealthily creeping in towards you with the irresistible intentness of winter. For some reason a feeling of mischief steals over you, a playful anticipation of things to come. The feeling that someone is behind you is so strong now, it's almost as if they are breathing down your neck! A chill, with fingers like frost, races up your spine, and you can't help it: you turn to look. There is no one there.
Soft, gentle laughter, ringing out like bells, brings an image of sparkling rubies and sapphires to your mind. The laugh seems to be... light? Yes...light, dancing across its surface, teasing sparkles out of the gems that dance like so many beams of sunshine. A faint dusting of water adds to this effect, and the laughter is so beautiful, so kind despite the trick it has played, that it freezes the breath in your throat.
Forgive me, Allea, my heart, the voice says, rich with warmth, acceptance, love. You feel an invisible pull tugging at you, and you know that this time it is in the right direction. Your eyes turn almost on their own, and a green hatchling is standing at your side, her tail waving slowly back and forth, her eyes a rainbow of beauty. I could not resist teasing you a very little. You have kept me waiting for so long... She lets the sentence trail off, and there is the sense that only for you would she have waited as she had. The warmth of her love, tinged somehow with the invigorating bite of frost, cascades around you, and she nuzzles your hand gently. I am your Chaiteth. We are together. All is well. Though... She hesitates, almost ashamed, I am quite hungry...

Personality

As a youngling, Chaiteth still retains that quality of innocence particular to children. But as the days pass and bring her further from the time of her hatching it becomes clear that she is not going to be much of a child during childhood. To Chaiteth impression was a moment of accepting the supreme responsibility for the life of another living creature. In some ways she relies on Allea, for care and for feeding, but in her point of view it is she who must protect Allea. The moment she became hers was the moment when everyone else ceased to exist, and she began becoming the supremely capable dragon she was born to be. This loyalty to her girl above all others is the essential core of her being, and from it grows both faith and strength. She is exceptionally clever, especially when it comes to seeing patterns. When Chaiteth looks at something like a tree she doesn't simply see a plant: she sees the pattern of its growth, the planning of its development into what it is. When she observes behavior in animals and people, she instantly begins tracing it back to possible causes and attempts to map out the consequences in the future. She sees how smaller patterns begin to show a larger picture of the world, and her vision for them is not restricted. At any point she can widen or narrow her focus to either step back or take on a microscopic view. Patience and self control lead her to hours when she will stay as still as stone, not even blinking, but observing everything with almost painful clarity and intensity. She's resourceful, she has to be to look after her Allea properly, and puts her skills to work in any useful way that she can think of; planning for the future, predicting weather, observing adult wing drills and the like. Chaiteth is fond of tricks, seeing in them a way to manipulate patterns to her advantage, but she is essentially a kind creature and would never play a trick that harmed someone. The end result of her schemes is usually that she gets what she wants and everyone laughs at themselves for not realizing that they were played.

As an adult she will have come fully into her potential. She has honed her raw abilities into talents that make her one in a million; a dragon with the ability to plan for the future. The more experience she gains, the more accurate she becomes in terms of predicting patterns and their outcomes and the better she gets at manipulating them to her advantage. One other, unexpected side effect of this is that, along with faithfulness, another trait has grown into the core of her nature: hope. No event, no tragedy, no situation short of the loss of her rider could ever make this dragon lose hope. She believes firmly, having seen everything that she has, that things will always work out if you live long enough to let them. While essentially a good-tempered dragon, she does have the potential for anger. Chaiteth simply doesn't allow herself to stoop to common, petty spite and childish fits: if she desires justice or revenge she will get it in her own time and in her own way. Her idea of getting even is not as harsh as one might expect, however,and even at her most vindictive she will never work to directly harm someone. Chaiteth will protect those things and people precious to her, but always with honor and dignity.

Chaiteth will be fairly social, but most of her habits and mannerisms will not lead her to be overly-so. She keeps a circle of friends close to her who will accept her as she is and not expect too much from her, but she also does her best to help the weyr as a whole in any way she can: they are a family, after all. While she enjoys playing harmless little tricks and the like, Chaiteth also takes a motherly approach: especially towards younger members of the weyr. This doesn't mean she spoils them, in point of fact she will squash any blatant rule breaking with swift decisiveness. Being an average sized green she is viewed by her wingmates as an important part of the team, and though she has her quirks will get along well almost wherever she is put. Loyalty to her friends, while not as ingrained as loyalty to her rider, is a part of Chaiteth's essential nature - and she isn't stingy about it.

When it comes to Threadfall Chaiteth will be the textbook definition of a green dragon. Agile, keen-eyed, flitting in, out and around the heavier members of her wing, Chaiteth will be considered a valuable asset to any wing: high or low altitude. While she is willing enough to fight an entire fall, however, she simply doesn't have the physical stamina to do so. Thus, she will try to last as long as possible and may, on occasion, overstrain herself as a result. Her career won't be perfect, but she has enough skill to mostly ensure that she and Allea make it through with little to no damage.

In terms of her flights Chaiteth will be ambivalent. Her main concern in life is Allea, so any mates she choses will have to accept that they take the back-seat. Chaiteth will, true to her nature, plan ahead for the actual flight: even going so far as to practice and experiment on her tricks ahead of time. She'll play the field a bit at first, gravitating towards the more impressive of her suitors but taking her time with the actual choice. When she does make her decision Chaiteth will stick by it, and if the male in question is not interested - too bad for him! She might leave him alone in between flights, but once she rises you can bet that by persuasion or by duress her chosen male will be in the air after her: she isn't above manipulating him if she has to. Trouble is, her beauty, spirit, intelligence - all of it will likely attract males to her by the dozens. Chaiteth will have to think very fast on her feet to be sure that her chosen one wins her every time.

Chaiteth treats her Allea with all the warmth and care a mother would give her daughter. She will always be there exactly when she needs her, and will be fiercely vigorous in her defense of her and her interests. At the same time, however, Chaiteth will consciously try not to smother Allea; try to let her test her wings and find her limits. She is the center-pin of her world. Thus, while she is responsible for Allea's protection and care she is also responsible for making sure that she can take care of herself. Her aim is to help her grow and achieve the best that she can in life, and Chaiteth will get her there by any means - decent means, of course - necessary. If this means comforting Allea in times of distress, or being firm and pushing her into taking up a challenge she normally wouldn't, Chaiteth will rise to the occasion and never falter. Though she will be polite and considerate to Allea's friends and loved ones, beneath it all there will always be the feeling that they are not good enough for him. She will treat them accordingly, being polite but slightly chilly in her dealings with them.

Mind Voice

Chaiteth's voice is one that calls vividly into mind the rigidness and cold beauty of gemstones; perhaps inlaid in precious metals. Each syllable and inflection is like a flash of light and a sparkle along the surface of them: teasing colors and qualities of light unguessed from within the stones. An amorphous layer of frost creeps stealthily across the surface along with the light: sometimes manifesting only as a hint of condensation, and sometimes hardening into a mass of stark white crystals that amplify and reflect the rigid beauty of the gemstones. Depending on her mood, this frost can call to mind either delicateness, like spun glass, or like the patterns of snowflakes, or it can become an unrelenting, bitter cold: the kind that batters all life into submission and holds it in an iron grip. Likewise, the light can be a source of fascinating, beautiful displays, or it can become painfully blinding, and pierce the mind like so many ice picks.

Inspiration Penelope, wife of Odysseus, one of the greatest heros of the Trojan War. While her husband was away, sailing the oceans to try and find his way home, Penelope had to raise their son, care for the kingdom and fend off those pesky suitors that kept hanging around - eating her food, messing up her house, and trying to murder her son. After decades of dealing with those losers, can you blame her for being skeptical when Odysseus finally showed up?

Name and Inspiration Chaiteth from chicanery: mean deceit or subterfuge, and Chaste, meaning pure. Penelope played many tricks to fend off the suitors vying for her hand in marriage.