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Fidel
Jun 17, 2009 11:16:20 GMT -5
Post by .K.aci on Jun 17, 2009 11:16:20 GMT -5
Character Name: Fiacchiusdel - Fidel (F'del)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Preference: Females, generally, though he isn't very picky.
Previous Position: Nothing.
Current Position: Dragon candidate
Appearance: Regular in almost every way, Fidel isn't one to draw attention the first glance around the room. Broad-shouldered, he isn't stocky as much as just there. He has a definite male aura about him. Nothing about him really catches the eye, from his average height to his average build. He doesn’t lack strength, and isn’t slow when running, but just looking at him wouldn’t give any inclination of these factors. A narrow face with high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked nose, his mouth is wide and smiles more easily than it frowns.
A mop of unmanageable black-brown hair runs in his family, soft but unmanageable. It hides his ears and often the prettiest thing about his appearance. Green eyes, the colors of warm spring and newly grown plants, are large, the irises ringed with a soft brown that quickly melts away. His hands are broad and long fingered, callused, while his feet are just as big, and he looks more like a stocky fifteen turns old than seventeen. He has a dark tan and a constantly wind-chapped face that shows his love for being outside, and a straight toothed smile.
Normal looking, he has a way of walking as though blending into the woodwork, often a shadow. However, he has an air about him, adopted for everything, that oozes gentleness and patience, a languid relaxation. He is graceful, no doubt about that, and quick and agile despite the looks. His clothing style is simple, and basic – a pair of loose pants or breeches, heavy-duty boots, and a simple tunic. He likes the colors that are muted, silvers and blacks and whites and browns, and the only jewelry he carries on him is a simple necklace his mother wore, a chain with a small pendent of twisted, elegant metal. All in all, it is to the beholder whether he looks handsome or not, although none can come right out and call him ugly.
Personality: First impressions are vital to everything, and this man is no different. In one conversation, you get the idea of intelligence, humor, and above all, a very very relaxed attitude. It’s not laziness – he enjoys running and being active – it’s just that he doesn’t really have a problem with anything. Like an indulgent parent it takes forever to get him riled up, and even then he really won’t do anything about being angry.
In conversations, he is amiable and kind, a generous listener and agreeable to just about anything. He, until his dragon, doesn’t mind sitting still in the sun, but can be convinced to go for walks and explore. Fidel, despite being able to deal with people, really doesn’t. He’s more of a loner, and although he may have several billion acquaintances , he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s built on the fact that he has a huge trust issue, but more on that later. He is polite to all, and an amusing conversationalist, but is always more content to curl up by himself and draw.
His main way of expressing himself is with art. Drawing, painting, doodling, he has scraps and scraps of hide flung around his other-wise neat room, and whenever he gets the inspiration he is off. He might not even sleep or eat unless someone reminds him to, so caught up in a picture. Details are his favorite, tiny details down the last window of Bendon Hold’s main building to the sparks in Aren’s eyes. He loves drawing people the most, and if his home were to raid his chest of finished pieces most of them would find a picture of themselves there. He likes drawing the people he observes in their natural environment, whether a dragon in the sky or the young cook kneading bread. They are how he escapes, how he thinks and feels, and without drawing… He isn’t quite sure what he would do.
Fidel is very big on the truth, and will tell it. He, thankfully, does have more tact that Aren does, so he knows when to say it, but can’t stand people who lie to his face and dislikes those that find they have to lie to make themselves look better. He’s a little hard on himself, not always seeing the good qualities such as his infinite amount of patience, his worry for everything around him, his kind touch, gentle words, relaxed air around him that makes it easy to talk to…
He is curious, always asking questions but he isn't being impertinent. He just really wants to learn. He never minds following Aren’s lead, doting on the young man and knowing that he generally has a good idea for everything he does. He enjoys having a good time, and loved telling stories to the younger `Brats, who looked forward to his visit’s. He to hates being boredom, and his motto is that only boring people get bored. He just has to find something to do.
Some of the things he hates, although it’d be hard pressed for people to realize it, is cold klah, obnoxious people, spinners, and when people see only the best in people. Fidel tends to be more wary of others, although it won’t seem like it in regular conversation. It bothers him when people are unhappy, and he loves to see them smile – he fully agree’s with going slightly overboard to make people smile.
Fidel is very smart, and catches onto things quickly – he believes that you are never to old for change. He has a huge faith on common sense, and is slightly wary on instincts because he knows he jumps to much on his hearts whims. Fidel is a whatever man - whatever comes along is what he'll like... He really isn't that into anybody, girls, guys, whatever. He knows he isn’t the most amazing looker out there, but doesn’t mind having lunch with a new person or one of the Lower Cavern worker’s every once in a while. He isn't a virgin, and knows how to treat a partner – he knows that they deserve compliments, flowers, treats, kind words. Things like that, when he is the more dominant person in the relationship, and he generally is.
Trust is something that Fidel has a huge issue on. No real reason behind it, he just has never had a good reason to trust anyone. Most people lie, even if by accident, and finds that he has huge problems believing anybody after a while. Trusting someone is a two way street, he also thinks, and he thinks he needs a close relationship with someone to start trusting them. You’ll understand that that is quite ridiculous because you can’t start a relationship without trust, meaning that generally he is screwed.
The biggest part of his personality is the fact that he is addicted to fellis weed. He likes the fact that the juice takes away all feeling and thoughts, leaving him drifting – however, he fears that it could hurt his friends and often only takes enough that his words come out slower, his movements seem drawn out, and his thoughts turn into a jumble. An insomniac, he drinks enough to knock him out and have a full night of sleep – something that he gets when he sleeps next to another person as well. The fellis, while bad for him, is taken in moderation, and Aren is often there to keep him from over-dosing to.
Pet: Green Lizard Ribbon Somewhat of a giddy creature, this nonetheless sweet Green tends to be a whirlwind of frantic activity. Discontent with staying in any one place too long, she is wont to perch for a moment only to spring into the air a second later and be off somewhere else.
With a sense of adventure driving her, she will be endlessly getting into trouble, poking her slender snout into places it most definitely does not belong. Endless chastisements and scoldings will never dampen her spirit of exploration, much to the frustration of others around her.
When she does find something particularly interesting, she will sometimes see if she can work out a way to take it with her, especially if it is a small bright object like a pretty stone or bit of thread. Unfortunately, she will lose interest and forget about it before too long, dropping it somewhere so that its former owner will have to hunt for it.
Willowy and sleek, she is very Green-like in her build--with a long body, a long tail, and a long neck, she is a ribbon of firelizard, very flexible and apt to coil about on herself when flying, often for no good reason at all.
Given her energetic nature, and her frequent dancing about and adding extra flare to her movements, she is a very skinny firelizard--she eats a lot, but she just spends so much energy on every task that it is all burned off with surprising quickness.
Her hide is almost completely a single shade, a bright, springy green, a cheerful and lively sort of color, suiting to her nature. Her long and graceful wings, however, are painted in a dazzling rainbow of greens, starting with a deep green and radiating outwards to a pale whitish green.
History: Father: Acchius ;;Deceased Mother: Fenaper ;;Deceased Sisters: Tacchiusemper ;; Lady Holder of Cothold Deiti, Tacchiusalana ;; Masterhealer, Sacchiusanctim ;;Weaver, Piacchiuseta ;;Journeywoman Dolphineer, ] Hacchiusumil ;; Baker, Brothers-In-Law: Malisren ;; Lord Cotholder, ---- Vacrew ;; Mastertrader, ---- Emment ;; Baker, Brother: Eacchiussper ;; = Nephews: Jarew ;; Journeyman Miner, I'lan ;; Rider of Blue Garth, Kentar ;; High Reaches Guard, Bonded to Bronze Kentisk, Barew ;; Journeyman Healer, Feriacchius ;; Apprentice Harper, Danaro ;; Apprentice Dolphineer, Nieces: Lasicta ;; Journeywoman Harper, Anara ;; Cothold Heir, Nemacchiusly ;; Apprentice Dolphineer, Kanay ;; Apprentice Weaver, Varacchius ;; Apprentice Healer, Gevonia ;; Holdbrat, Best Friend: Aren ;; Apprentice Dragonhealer and Candidate
History;; In a tiny cothold, something momentous was happening. Fenaper, the young bride of the new Holder was giving birth. Acchius, the impatient father paced outside the chamber, chewing on a thumbnail as he worried. His wife was a match that was made out of love rather than set up by his recently passed father - despite her youth they had married, and now ten months later he was about to be a father. At twenty-four turns some said that his wait was odd, but his Fenaper had only breached her eighteenth turn not five sevenday's ago! He worried she was not old enough, but the gentle quiet woman only had laughed at him. She was not quiet now, as breathy moans and mounting screams came through the wooden door.
'Darling? Are you all right?' Her husband, bless his soul, was getting on her nerves. All she wanted was quiet, and for the pain to stop! But as she expelled another breath of air and spat out the piece of clothe in her mouth she had been biting on, she managed to call back, 'As well as can be expected. Now please - shut up.' She knew that the handsome man was probably gnawing away at his thumb, and a small smile played at the corner of her mouth before another wave of pain hit her stomach. Clenching at the swollen belly, she let out a scream and pushed.
Thus was the birth of the first daughter at Deiti Cothold under the new Holder. Tacchiusemper was born - a brightly squalling little girl. A little under a turn later, Tacchiusalana followed her, and not much more than that Sacchiusanctim came out, a sickly child, but alive none-the-less. She worked on raising those three children, and being the Lady Holder for three turns - loosing a baby in childbirth and miscarrying two more - before she told her husband she wanted to try one last time. This union ended in a pair of squalling girls - Piacchiuseta and Hacchiusumil. It was not for another five, almost six turns that the happy parents thought to try for more - a Cothold was a busy place, and they had their hands full.
That is, until Fenaper turned to her husband and told him that she was again carrying a child. The scene that played this time was a little different.
Next to his wife, a salt and peppered man held onto the delicately callused hand, murmuring to her softly. They had long since aged and matured since the first child, the woman no longer caring that her husband saw her birthing, and, although he still treated her like a flower, he no longer having any idea of immodesty. Now he was there as she screamed, nearly breaking the bones in his hand as she gripped against the pain ripping itself from inside out. The old midwife only clucked, and snapped for more towels. It was a breach birth, a risky thing for both the mother and child.
Thankfully, the old woman managed to turn the child around and guide him safety from his mother. 'A boy.' A squalling noise came out from him, but in a few seconds died down. 'Quiet, to. That's interesting.' The parents didn't hear her mumbling, busy murmuring over their first boy. Fiacchiusdel was born, six turns younger than his older sisters were, and twelve turns younger than his oldest. It made for an interesting predicament.
For the first four turns he stayed under his mother's careful eye, a little toddler with a spray of shock black hair and a happy smile for everyone he met. Then, around his fifth birth day, an illness struck. Most of the Hold grew sick, and many died - Fidel was shunted to the side under his sister's watch. Tacchiusemper, or Temper as they teasingly called her, was 18 at that point, and spent most of her time studying the running of the Hold. Tacchiusalana, Lana, was a newly walked Journeyman Healer, and Sanctim was a small girl, slight, but even at sixteen had a strong sense of weaving. Piseta and Humil were only twelve, but Piseta had left to Apprentice at the Dolphin Hall nearby for a turn already. She had come back at her parent's request, doing small things to help out in the Hold's time of need and keeping up with her study's under a Journeyman they had living with them. Humil had found her passion in the kitchen, training under the stern Head Cook there. So, as his parents tried to deal with the crumbling Hold, Fidel was passed back and forth between sisters.
This was where everyone says he learned his calmness, and his ability to pick up odd information. As sister passed him to the next, they would use him as a sounding board, saying their teachings out loud and teaching him for something to do. He swam with dolphins, collected herbs and understood basic medicine, learned the finer points in cooking, how to run a hold, and the exacting art of holding a needle - but it wasn't all fun and games. He was expected to work at these points, as much as a five year old could, and his sister's left a no nonsense air about getting the stuff done. He understood why - even at five turns he had been a bright one.
The illness abated, and his sister's went off. Piseta left, back to the Hall, while Temper immersed herself in the Cothold. He was a free boy, running wild in the jungle around Southern and swimming in the ocean with his sister's dolphin, Sarlik. It was for four turns that he did this, growing up tan and sprightly, well fed by his sister's rich cooking.
Of course, when Fenaper found out she was a little less than happy. Her other girls had been useful - her son would be no different. So Fidel was caught, and dragged to where his mother was working at the moment: in the weaver's building. There, she took the calm boy and plunked him among six or seven young `Brats, telling him to watch the children so that they could get work done. They say that this was where he learned his patience. The seven kids ranged from 4 to 8, the oldest only a few turns younger than him. He learned very quickly how to deal with them, and they loved the older boy with the quick smile and easy attitude. He showed them things, letting them swim with the dolphins and feeding them Humil's cooking as she laughed on. His day-care center grew as the planting season came about, ranging to almost sixteen kids, and he turned twelve as he taught them how to harvest the berries in the jungle.
He didn't look twelve years old - tall and gangly, with black hair that gave him a shaggy look, he could pass as fourteen or fifteen. His easygoing attitude made it easy to get along with him, and he gladly kept them under control. The biggest problem was that he didn't seem to want to do anything. He showed promise in the Dolphinhall, and had been asked to Apprentice, but he had declined. He could have gone and been a Baker, or worked in the Weaver's Hall with his steady hands and patience, but he declined them all. The boy was just more comfortable in the cothold, doing the odd jobs and babysitting, so he lived off of the land and grew strong and supple.
Until a dragonrider came through. It was huge - they had heard dragons were back, but it was so... Different, hearing and seeing the large beast standing infront of you. Brownrider L'rit and Zanth were quite happy to spend the night on the warm fall afternoon as sparks danced up from bonfires as the Holder's celebrated a young boy's fifteenth birth day. The wine flowed thick, and the hospitality was generous - L'rit confided to Zanth that he wanted to Search this Hold more often, and Zanth (enjoying the attention the younger children gave him) agreed. It wasn't until a young man - the boy who had just turned - came over to shoo the children away from the Brown that Zanth jerked and focused closer on him. Mine! I like this one. He is Rider material. The Brownrider blinked, and gave the young man another once over. Slim, confident, he looked more seventeen turns than a just turned fifteen. Rising an eyebrow, he caught the young man's elbow and dragged him off to tell him the news in private.
It didn't stay that way for long. Fidel, after a slow moment of thought, agreed. As much as he loved the kids, he didn't want to stay here the rest of his life. A slow drawling voice told the Rider, "Sure. Why not?" And went back to tell the rest of the Hold his news. The celebration ran far into the night as they danced and made merry, the children asking a million questions and having to be soothed that he would come and visit them lots. With the mention of presents and flit eggs they were quite happy to allow him to leave, though he swore many a solemn oath that he would come back.
So the next morning, after L'rit got over his hang-over, the pair mounted the sandy colored Brown and took off to the Weyr. The world there was much different then the small Cothold that he had spent his first turns in, but the mellow boy stayed himself, and waited for a clutch on the sands. He made a few friends, and did stupid boy things, as they are want to do. His biggest mistake was less than three sevendays at the new Weyr. The older Candidates, who had stood at Hatchings before, had been hazing the newly arrived younger ones. Fidel stuck up for them, and ended up taking the challenge of riding the new runner that had been brought in - a nasty piebald stallion that didn't really like anybody and hated being ridden.
Fidel managed to stay the required thirty seconds on the runner. And then was bucked off faster than you can say the first word that pops in your head, and landed hard, blacking out.
Everything was fuzzy. Very, very fuzzy. But the fuzziness blocked the pain, and the white place he had been in was someplace he wanted to go back to. A wave a nausea and pain slammed into his stomach at that point, making the young man heave up to empty his already empty stomach in a pail next to his bed. Wiping his lips with the back of his left arm - he couldn't move his right one for some reason - he fell back against the pillow and tiredly checked his surroundings. He was in the infirmary, and a kind old Healer had bustled in at the noise. 'Tut tut, dear. You poor thing! You were out for two days - you must be hungry.' He blinked at her, and croaked from a hoarse voice, "Two days? What happened?"
She smiled at him, checking his forehead with a cool hand. 'You were knocked out! That runner bucked you, and you cracked your collarbone, dislocated your shoulder, and snapped the bone in your arm. We had to re-set it - I'm not surprised you don't remember. Lots of pain, you were screaming with a high fever for almost a day before we managed to break it.' Another wave of nausea hit, and he rolled over to heave again. 'Awww... Poor baby. How do you feel?' He blinked at her, and managed to mutter, "Pain." She chuckled, and bustled over to the small table. 'I bet. You broke a finger in your left hand to - the runner stepped on you.' He didn't throw up this time, but it was a hard fight. 'Here dear. Drink some of this.' A cup was at his lips; he took a sip and would have dumped the whole thing down his dry throat if she hadn't been murmuring, 'Slowly! Slowly.' Immediately after the last dregs were down his throat he was exhausted, but he asked her before he fell asleep, "What was in that?" She chuckled. 'Almost pure fellis extract.'
Fidel stayed in bed for almost two sevenday's before he felt strong enough to clamber out, and it took another two before they discharged him. However, that wasn't the biggest problem. The already calm boy had found he enjoyed the numbing, floating sensation of fellis extract, and thanks to the time he had spent helping his sister harvest her herbs, he knew what the small tree looked like and how to milk it correctly. The boy became a fellis addict - just enough dripped from a tiny bottle he carried into any liquid, and he floated on a high for several hours. He kept it a secret though - he had a funny feeling that he wasn't supposed to do it. He lived in the Weyr for another two turns, and is still here. He made friends with a young man who arrived a Turn ago, and Aren and he ran around as Weyrbrat's before deciding together to stand for the twin Queen's Clutches. It would be fun, yes?
Alignment: None - He doesn't really care.
Special Requests Application reason: A Green Firelizard.
RP History: Four years Familiarity with Pern: I'm a n00b How you found out about our site: Do I have to remember this?
For Dragon Candidates: Syllable Numbers for Name: 2, 3 Preferred Starting Letters for Name: Nope. Preferred Color: Could care less. XD It's all up to you guys.
For Dragonriders and Dragon Candidates to Fill Out: Preferred Dragon Ability: Don't care....
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