Post by Felina on Jul 25, 2008 19:18:00 GMT -5
Character Name: Andhrímnir (A’mnir), often shortened to Andy for reasons that should be obvious just from looking at it. If you’re curious about its origins, wiki the full version, and learn about the powers of Norse mythology.
Age: 16 Turns
Gender: Male
Preference: Either males or females; gender doesn't really matter much to him.
Previous Position: Resident of the hold; mostly helped out with the cooking.
Current Position: Candidate
Appearance:
If he were the judge, Andy would probably place himself third in every beauty contest. Partly because he hates to seem biased in favor of himself (or anyone, for that matter), and partly because he’s just plain good-looking. Or rather, not all that plain. Tall, he has enough muscle to not appear gawkish, but little enough that he still has that adorable little-boy look about him without being a pathetically helpless wimp. Little of his baby fat remains, though, that little being primarily in his face, which is somewhat rounded. He has long legs for his size, along with large hands and feet. His fingers are long, a musician’s fingers, if he had a musician’s ear (however, he’s very nearly tone-deaf). In fact, most everything about Andy seems to be long, long and lean. He has a good figure and knows it, and could probably get away with a lot thanks to it if he had any inclination to do so. As it is, the only time he really exploits that feature of himself is when he wants to be attractive to a girl, because he knows how good he looks, reluctant as he is to admit it sometimes.
Rather like his half-brother, Andy’s hair is his pride and joy, though he doesn’t quite take it to the level of madness that Iraink does. It’s a dirty blonde, rather lightened from the sun, about to the bottoms of his ears and straight save for where it flips up at the ends. It is his one real concession to vanity, as he takes great care to ensure that it stays as it looks, always after the newest oils to make it keep its shine, regardless of how girly it makes him smell for an hour or two. He doesn’t mind the girliness of it, anyhow. If one were to wish to catch Andy with messy hair, or the slightest smidgen of facial hair, they would have to catch him very early in the morning, before most of the weyr rises, in the washroom. There, where there is no-one to see, he shaves any hint of a beard or mustache, and brushes his hair to where he is satisfied. He’s also a habitual early riser, so he doesn’t really mind the inconvenience of it anyhow. And after all, he does have a reputation to keep, and it’s one that he wouldn’t necessarily want tarnished.
The one other similarity to Iraink lies in the blue eyes, an almost eerie shade reminiscent of deep tidal waters and the sky in late evening. They’re round and innocent, deep and trusting. Of course, that could simply be a reflection of Andy’s naïveté, or it could be the inherited look of their common mother. Though the former could quite easily be believable, it is more likely that the latter is the more accurate. They also make up most of what is a facial expression that is quite possibly unique to Andy, where his eyes widen and he gives a sort of half-smile. He claims it’s supposed to be a look of encouragement, but his elder sister always called it his “I’m-going-to-tell-on-you” look.
Personality:
Perhaps there is such a thing as too trusting. If there is, Andy would be the epitome of it,
with his blind faith in other peoples’ better natures and determination to see the brighter side of everyone and everything. Which would be a wonderful thing to strive for, if it hadn’t come back to bite him in the butt so often. He is incapable of deceit, but also incapable of detecting deceit. Sarcasm utterly eludes him, as he almost invariably believes that it is said not in jest, but in all seriousness.
However, that is not to say that Andy can only be serious. Though he rarely jests, he spends a good portion of his time chasing after whatever girl he happens to be attracted to. For all his little flaws, he manages to establish a wide network of friends wherever he goes. Or at least he believes that they are his friends; they could be utterly patronizing, and he would never notice. He’s friendly and exuberant, almost puppyish, bouncing around with an excess of energy.
Optimism is Andy’s third name, if Honesty is his second. Andhrímnir Honesty Optimism is rather a mouthful, though, so it’s lucky that he doesn’t actually have the other two. He rarely believes that anything can possibly go wrong, which doesn’t always work out so well. As trust has bitten him multiple times, so too has optimism. If he believes that something will go well, chances are, it will, but something else will go horribly, horribly wrong.
Ridiculously brilliant, Andy always wanted to put the brain he had to good use. Things never worked out, though, because the Harpers wouldn’t take him due to his absolute tone-deafness; the Smiths wouldn’t take him because he was too ‘delicate’ a person; the Healers wouldn’t have him because he refused to acknowledge the possibility of anyone dying while in his care; and nothing else really seemed to suit. So he ended up cooking, because he could work absolute wonders with all sorts of food. The brain never got used much, but most people agreed that his roasted wherry could blow most other food right out of the water. Except for Benden wine, but that’s not food. And, well, probably food at other holds, but nobody really wanted to tell Andy that.
Though Andy loves his full name, Andhrímnir, and loves the way it seems to flow off the tongue, he can never get anybody to call him by it. It is the one subject over which he will occasionally argue, because he can’t for the life of him figure out why people think it’s so difficult to say. He hates the name Andy.
History:
Yeah, Andy had that sort of luck. The sort of luck that said “look at me, I’m born, but somebody else died in my place!” On the night on his son was born, Karl took bread, broke it, and ate it, saying “This night my son is born. Take and eat. Do this and think of my son.” But on the morn that he did die, Sarbet saw the body, broken, and cried out, saying “I gave everything to you. And now I have only our children. I shall raise them in remembrance of you.”
Apparently, though, there wasn’t a whole lot of ‘remembrance’, because only a short while later it became quite clear that Sarbet had been with another man, and bore his child. The evidence was in her bulging belly, and the obvious truth that she could not have conceived a child a few hours after giving birth.
Andhrímnir knew that his little brother wasn’t the same as him. But the two were so close in age that they became rather good friends anyhow, at least for a couple of Turns. When the day came that Andy found out the truth of Iraink’s birth, however, he promptly turned the shoulder and laughed with his other siblings. No, not his other siblings. His only siblings. After all, Iraink was only half a sibling, and nobody really knew who his father was. He didn’t count for anything more than a little weirdo.
And so the first few years of Andy’s life passed, with constant new revelations occurring at what were probably rather inopportune moments. But Andy couldn’t help the gossip about his mother, and however he tried to defend her, there really was nothing he could say in her defense. It was obvious what had been done.
Perhaps that was when he learned that if people said something, they meant it. And therefore, why would anyone ever lie or say anything they didn’t mean? Lies simply didn’t exist. So when Sarbet told him that he didn’t need to worry about ever having to see Iraink again because his father had come to take him to live in another hold, where he would be happy and have a family, Andy believed her.
He grew up rather happy from that day on, trying his hand at everything (and failing at most of it), but never losing hope that one day he would find what he was good at. There was nothing he didn’t like and nothing he wouldn’t try simply for the sake of trying. And sure, helping out the kitchen drudges wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but when he found out that he could cook, and cook well, who was to stop him from doing what he could? After all, though everyone loved him, not everyone loved his near-uselessness.
As puberty hit him like a runaway herdbeast, he shot up, grew handsome... and found that he liked girls. Doesn’t every adolescent boy, save those who find that they like other boys? Well, and those who just don’t like anyone like that, but they’re in the tiny minority. Of course, he quickly found out that he liked boys as well, but even that revelation was overshadowed by the return of the dragons. It sounded like a story, far too good to be true. Yet, it wasn’t, for why would anyone lie about that? The shadows of the dragons passing overhead could not be fabricated, and the distinct order that came into their lives once the weyrs returned to their rightful places (or, rather, singular, as there was still only the one weyr) could not be false.
Search was unexpected. He was just a young man who could cook, what could the dragons see in him? There were, however, stranger happenings. The first time he heard the name “Iraink” muttered in the hallway, followed by “lunatic”, he thought he was going mad. His half-brother could not possibly be in the weyr. And yet, it seemed, he was.
Position in Family: Second-youngest, approximately a Turn older than Iraink.
Pets: None
Alignment: Loyalist. He is incapable of believing that the weyrleaders could possibly do anything wrong.
Relation to Existing Character: Iraink’s foil and half-brother. He exists solely to torment the poor guy.
Special Requests Application reason: None
RP History: Err... a really long time?
Familiarity with Pern: Bordering on the obsessive. And when I’m not entirely certain on a point, I look it up. Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern is good to me like that.
How you found out about our site: I have no earthly idea any more. It’s been a while.
Candidates Only Section:
Desired Dragon Colour: Green
Reason for this Preference: Iraink is requesting male dragons. As his foil, Andy should prolly go opposite.
Syllable Numbers for Name: Either 1 or 4+. Iraink’s requested 2-3, so again, doing what he doesn’t.
Preferred Starting Letters for Name: O, I, U; not enough dragons with vowels to start. That, and all of Iraink’s requests are consonants.
Age: 16 Turns
Gender: Male
Preference: Either males or females; gender doesn't really matter much to him.
Previous Position: Resident of the hold; mostly helped out with the cooking.
Current Position: Candidate
Appearance:
If he were the judge, Andy would probably place himself third in every beauty contest. Partly because he hates to seem biased in favor of himself (or anyone, for that matter), and partly because he’s just plain good-looking. Or rather, not all that plain. Tall, he has enough muscle to not appear gawkish, but little enough that he still has that adorable little-boy look about him without being a pathetically helpless wimp. Little of his baby fat remains, though, that little being primarily in his face, which is somewhat rounded. He has long legs for his size, along with large hands and feet. His fingers are long, a musician’s fingers, if he had a musician’s ear (however, he’s very nearly tone-deaf). In fact, most everything about Andy seems to be long, long and lean. He has a good figure and knows it, and could probably get away with a lot thanks to it if he had any inclination to do so. As it is, the only time he really exploits that feature of himself is when he wants to be attractive to a girl, because he knows how good he looks, reluctant as he is to admit it sometimes.
Rather like his half-brother, Andy’s hair is his pride and joy, though he doesn’t quite take it to the level of madness that Iraink does. It’s a dirty blonde, rather lightened from the sun, about to the bottoms of his ears and straight save for where it flips up at the ends. It is his one real concession to vanity, as he takes great care to ensure that it stays as it looks, always after the newest oils to make it keep its shine, regardless of how girly it makes him smell for an hour or two. He doesn’t mind the girliness of it, anyhow. If one were to wish to catch Andy with messy hair, or the slightest smidgen of facial hair, they would have to catch him very early in the morning, before most of the weyr rises, in the washroom. There, where there is no-one to see, he shaves any hint of a beard or mustache, and brushes his hair to where he is satisfied. He’s also a habitual early riser, so he doesn’t really mind the inconvenience of it anyhow. And after all, he does have a reputation to keep, and it’s one that he wouldn’t necessarily want tarnished.
The one other similarity to Iraink lies in the blue eyes, an almost eerie shade reminiscent of deep tidal waters and the sky in late evening. They’re round and innocent, deep and trusting. Of course, that could simply be a reflection of Andy’s naïveté, or it could be the inherited look of their common mother. Though the former could quite easily be believable, it is more likely that the latter is the more accurate. They also make up most of what is a facial expression that is quite possibly unique to Andy, where his eyes widen and he gives a sort of half-smile. He claims it’s supposed to be a look of encouragement, but his elder sister always called it his “I’m-going-to-tell-on-you” look.
Personality:
Perhaps there is such a thing as too trusting. If there is, Andy would be the epitome of it,
with his blind faith in other peoples’ better natures and determination to see the brighter side of everyone and everything. Which would be a wonderful thing to strive for, if it hadn’t come back to bite him in the butt so often. He is incapable of deceit, but also incapable of detecting deceit. Sarcasm utterly eludes him, as he almost invariably believes that it is said not in jest, but in all seriousness.
However, that is not to say that Andy can only be serious. Though he rarely jests, he spends a good portion of his time chasing after whatever girl he happens to be attracted to. For all his little flaws, he manages to establish a wide network of friends wherever he goes. Or at least he believes that they are his friends; they could be utterly patronizing, and he would never notice. He’s friendly and exuberant, almost puppyish, bouncing around with an excess of energy.
Optimism is Andy’s third name, if Honesty is his second. Andhrímnir Honesty Optimism is rather a mouthful, though, so it’s lucky that he doesn’t actually have the other two. He rarely believes that anything can possibly go wrong, which doesn’t always work out so well. As trust has bitten him multiple times, so too has optimism. If he believes that something will go well, chances are, it will, but something else will go horribly, horribly wrong.
Ridiculously brilliant, Andy always wanted to put the brain he had to good use. Things never worked out, though, because the Harpers wouldn’t take him due to his absolute tone-deafness; the Smiths wouldn’t take him because he was too ‘delicate’ a person; the Healers wouldn’t have him because he refused to acknowledge the possibility of anyone dying while in his care; and nothing else really seemed to suit. So he ended up cooking, because he could work absolute wonders with all sorts of food. The brain never got used much, but most people agreed that his roasted wherry could blow most other food right out of the water. Except for Benden wine, but that’s not food. And, well, probably food at other holds, but nobody really wanted to tell Andy that.
Though Andy loves his full name, Andhrímnir, and loves the way it seems to flow off the tongue, he can never get anybody to call him by it. It is the one subject over which he will occasionally argue, because he can’t for the life of him figure out why people think it’s so difficult to say. He hates the name Andy.
History:
Yeah, Andy had that sort of luck. The sort of luck that said “look at me, I’m born, but somebody else died in my place!” On the night on his son was born, Karl took bread, broke it, and ate it, saying “This night my son is born. Take and eat. Do this and think of my son.” But on the morn that he did die, Sarbet saw the body, broken, and cried out, saying “I gave everything to you. And now I have only our children. I shall raise them in remembrance of you.”
Apparently, though, there wasn’t a whole lot of ‘remembrance’, because only a short while later it became quite clear that Sarbet had been with another man, and bore his child. The evidence was in her bulging belly, and the obvious truth that she could not have conceived a child a few hours after giving birth.
Andhrímnir knew that his little brother wasn’t the same as him. But the two were so close in age that they became rather good friends anyhow, at least for a couple of Turns. When the day came that Andy found out the truth of Iraink’s birth, however, he promptly turned the shoulder and laughed with his other siblings. No, not his other siblings. His only siblings. After all, Iraink was only half a sibling, and nobody really knew who his father was. He didn’t count for anything more than a little weirdo.
And so the first few years of Andy’s life passed, with constant new revelations occurring at what were probably rather inopportune moments. But Andy couldn’t help the gossip about his mother, and however he tried to defend her, there really was nothing he could say in her defense. It was obvious what had been done.
Perhaps that was when he learned that if people said something, they meant it. And therefore, why would anyone ever lie or say anything they didn’t mean? Lies simply didn’t exist. So when Sarbet told him that he didn’t need to worry about ever having to see Iraink again because his father had come to take him to live in another hold, where he would be happy and have a family, Andy believed her.
He grew up rather happy from that day on, trying his hand at everything (and failing at most of it), but never losing hope that one day he would find what he was good at. There was nothing he didn’t like and nothing he wouldn’t try simply for the sake of trying. And sure, helping out the kitchen drudges wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but when he found out that he could cook, and cook well, who was to stop him from doing what he could? After all, though everyone loved him, not everyone loved his near-uselessness.
As puberty hit him like a runaway herdbeast, he shot up, grew handsome... and found that he liked girls. Doesn’t every adolescent boy, save those who find that they like other boys? Well, and those who just don’t like anyone like that, but they’re in the tiny minority. Of course, he quickly found out that he liked boys as well, but even that revelation was overshadowed by the return of the dragons. It sounded like a story, far too good to be true. Yet, it wasn’t, for why would anyone lie about that? The shadows of the dragons passing overhead could not be fabricated, and the distinct order that came into their lives once the weyrs returned to their rightful places (or, rather, singular, as there was still only the one weyr) could not be false.
Search was unexpected. He was just a young man who could cook, what could the dragons see in him? There were, however, stranger happenings. The first time he heard the name “Iraink” muttered in the hallway, followed by “lunatic”, he thought he was going mad. His half-brother could not possibly be in the weyr. And yet, it seemed, he was.
Position in Family: Second-youngest, approximately a Turn older than Iraink.
Pets: None
Alignment: Loyalist. He is incapable of believing that the weyrleaders could possibly do anything wrong.
Relation to Existing Character: Iraink’s foil and half-brother. He exists solely to torment the poor guy.
Special Requests Application reason: None
RP History: Err... a really long time?
Familiarity with Pern: Bordering on the obsessive. And when I’m not entirely certain on a point, I look it up. Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern is good to me like that.
How you found out about our site: I have no earthly idea any more. It’s been a while.
Candidates Only Section:
Desired Dragon Colour: Green
Reason for this Preference: Iraink is requesting male dragons. As his foil, Andy should prolly go opposite.
Syllable Numbers for Name: Either 1 or 4+. Iraink’s requested 2-3, so again, doing what he doesn’t.
Preferred Starting Letters for Name: O, I, U; not enough dragons with vowels to start. That, and all of Iraink’s requests are consonants.
