Peek-a-boo Egg:
Soft flakes of ash flirt with this egg, floating and obscuring its form. As they shift, the ovoid is revealed and hidden again in a timeless dance. Slowly however, the egg is buried, gently under the falling specks of ash that meld seamlessly into the sands below. Nothing escapes the cloaking of the ash, a drift where once an egg was.

Where'd my Fishies Go Egg:
Craggy outcropping bequeaths life to this fragile shell; salt encrusted as the heat of a summer's day threatens the temporary paradise. Water pools in sapphire tints, as golden sunlight reflects, casting miniature rainbows across the ovoid, whilst Spiderclaws scurry to hide as shadows obscure, throwing tenebrous visions across the wind-rippled pool. Fish dart, a blur of chiaroscuro and sfumato, their colourings forming subtle transitions across the gentle curves of the circumference as they swim away from the delicate green spinnerwebbing of a net. Current dormant, banners of seaweed lie still but for the rippling of invasive objects, only then are they allowed to dance like pennants in the wind, curling the petals of seaflowers that bloom in golden posies.

Egg Inspiration:
"When I was young we lived very close to the seaside in South Wales. My brother and I used to go hunting in the tidepools on the nearby beaches all the time, under the guidance of my mum and dad. Dad seemed to know *everything* about all the fishes. When we were travelling home one day, having ventured further afield, the crabs I'd caught were eating my fishes, right in front of me, in *my* bucket! Having had the vision of a very upset toddler, my Dad pulled over to the side of the road, dumping my bucket into the ditch at the side of the road. Little did I know then that the fresh water would've killed them anyhow." -- Telinda.

Hatching Message:
Peek-a-boo Egg stands apart, immobile, mysterious. Those potential bumps and wrinkles across its surface could be tricks of the light, as shadows seem to constantly shift along its curves. Then, a gaping chasm appears in its side, arriving without sound or oscillation. Something moved inside, this is sure, as this shadowy oval turns on its side and a deep cleft opens perpendicular to the first. And then, limbs desperately pushing membrane and shell aside, a hatchling makes its first appearance in this world.

Silver Screen Icon Hatchling:
Striking, beguiling, with stage presence to spare. This hatchling's got it all: long, sculptured legs -- an even-shaped head already held aloft with the sort of confidence that it takes other dragons months to develop -- and a clear voice that carries far (especially as a creel of hunger). But as it stands there, gathering its thoughts, it seems almost larger than life -- even though it's really just a hatchling. Once it starts moving, with relative grace considering its undeveloped coordination, it's with confidence. Only then is it clear the hatchling isn't as tall as it first appeared. The ash settles only when the figure is still, which isn't often, and otherwise the silvery particles shimmer around the hatchling, eyes whirling with hunger blinking out of the haze, stealing the show

Impression Message:
Nothing can last forever, and so the Silver Screen Icon Hatchling's search finally comes to an end. It approaches one particular candidate, and stretches its wings quickly, protectively -- *This* is the one I want. The rapid motion jars loose damp clumps of ash, which fall away, revealing green hide one patch at a time. And then, she looks up, searching for recognition from Eireann.

Vibrant Fresco Green Hatchling:
Once faded frescos limn vaulted ceilings, the achromatized hues now returned to the glorious paintings that they were, creation and life displaying an inherent strength, and a gentle tranquility, within the brushstrokes that sweep across this olive green's hide. Rukbat dapples shoulders, dancing with sparkling emerald hues that radiate along her flanks before separating into the somber midnight shadowed tones of her haunches, sun and moon creating unusual iconography in the swirls of warm gold and cold pewter that spiral down the curve of her tail. Gardens of paradise are evident in the lush, verdant, greenery that curls over her headknobs, garlanding neckridges with laurel leaves and tempting apple greens. A quintessential harmony of beryl and turquoise contours her belly, rose fingers extending into the intense colours of her legs, avaricious talons varnished in brown, earthen pigments. Flood waters rush to fill the near translucent expanse of her wings, the tempestuous blues of a stormy ocean crashing over pinions forming a masterpiece of perfection amid the foam-capped waves of milky jade.

Hatchling Inspiration - Tosca:
Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) was an Italian composer, whose operas blended intense emotion and theatricality with tender lyricism, colourful orchestration, and a rich vocal line. Although Puccini's work lacks the grandeur achieved by Giuseppe Verdi ("The only music I can compose is that of little things," Puccini once said), many consider him second only to Verdi among Italian composers who lived after Gioacchino Rossini. His repertoire includes La Bohème (The Bohemian, 1896), Tosca (1900), Madama Butterfly (1904), and Turandot, which he died before finishing. Tosca is Puccini's ferociously effective melodrama. The beautiful Tosca stabs and kills the villainous Scarpia, then plunges to her death after her lover, Cavaradossi, is killed by Scarpia's firing squad. Auribeth takes her inspiration from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, painted by Michelangelo, a profession held by Cavaradossi, Tosca's lover.

Impression Message:
The chaos of the Hatching recedes, unimportant, as new feelings hover at the edge of your awareness. At first a tickle, tentative and gentle, forms at the back of your mind -- apprehension, worry, and nervousness. But then, something clicks, and another is there. Love and joy so perfect as to have no comparison suffuse your being, and for a while there is nothing but you and her. She -- Auribeth, is the one whose slowly whirling eyes will become the center of your universe. << At last, Eireann, I have found you. I have found you, and nothing will be able to tear us apart. >> After a brief moment, a sudden gnawing in the pit of your stomach ruins the perfection of the impression. << Can we go find food, now, Eireann? I'm terribly hungry. >> And she is. You can feel it.

Name - Auribeth:
Auribeth, pronounced Aur-ree-beth, comes from the Romany word 'Aurari' which means goldwasher. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
You will never feel neglected, any moment that Auribeth is awake. She craves attention, demands it in fact, and any time that you are not able to supply her with it, she will gather herself an audience from whatever dragons, or even people, happen to be handy. << Oh, Iesath -- look at me! Look at this! >> she'll say, or will strut her stuff in front of a group of candidates, no doubt scaring some of the newest ones to bits with her attention-seeking acrobatics. Everything she does is larger than life; her herdbeast victims are dispatched with a flair for the gory -- << Take that, herdbeast! And that. Ooh, blood! >> -- and her flying feature aerobatic displays that are rarely rivaled. Auribeth simply adores people talking about her, and mentioning her name; she considers it the highest compliment that they would remember her, and feel the need to tell other dragons or people what she's done. If you don't mention her in conversation, well, although she's hardly likely to sulk, she'll make quite clear her dislike of that particular situation.

Affections are passions and dislikes are intense but as blindingly brief in nature as her affections; she prefers to surprise people by changing from one moment to the next. Beyond which, they might do something silly a moment after they've done something nice, and if she was going to like them all the time, then that would be really a waste. She prefers to let people know when they displease her, in all truth. Her only abiding love is for you. This leading lady never does anything by halves. Does she ever rest? << Why rest, when there is so much to see and do? >> With her flair for the dramatic, any time you attempt to curb her will, she'll tend to go for the extreme reaction: << Oh, Eireann, how could you? Break my heart, oh Eireann! >> Needless to say, that particular dramaticism will die as quickly as it came, and she'll be back to her incessantly cheerful self. Before you manage to get used to it, this could be quite unsettling; you'll never fight, because she will give in easily, preferring not to cause trouble -- nasty stuff, that.

Your bond with her will run all the deeper for the intensity of this green's feelings. She experiences everything you do with an eager hunger for new sensations, new thoughts, new feelings. She has a zest for life in all its facets, and will share even your worst moments with an intense empathy. What you feel, she feels. What she feels, you feel. You may find yourself privy to more draconic conversation than you ever really wanted to know about, from the foibles of riders to the taste of fish. << Joleath likes the water an awful lot, and Venalth is scared of the dark. Did you know that? It's awful fun to try and spook him that way. And Iesath says that her rider is still after that bluerider, you know the one I mean. >> she might fill you in with, bubbling excessively over this new information in her life. Never mind that some might prefer this information kept secret, Auribeth honestly has no notion of this: if they talk about it, shouldn't she? Your own thoughts, if they are private ones, might well be passed on as well, for her notions of privacy hardly exist at all.

She flings herself whole-heartedly into all endeavors, for as long as they hold her attention. There is always something new and endlessly fascinating that is just around the corner. In training, she will latch onto certain lessons and devour their content with ferocity: most often these will be practical, involving flight, and *Between*. At other times, you will have to drum them into her: for the sun is just far too bright on her lovely green hide, the water far too inviting, the conversations she can hear just far too interesting. Those will often take the form of drills, and other repetitive tasks that never seem to have that certain pizzazz that is hers; << How boring they are, Eireann! Why, I could do them in my sleep, with my wings folded! >> She almost could, too, thanks to her ability to control her movements just so. Her ability in flight is noticeable; like many of her clutchmates, she is a child of the sky, born to fly through its reaches with infinite precision.

In flights, she is susceptible to flattery, coquettish in her mannerisms. She's a prima donna; she knows it's her show, and woe betide any green that attempts to steal her men prior to the event. All others can only follow in her wake and shower praises upon her, hoping that they can win her momentary favour. In Fall, she will be intense, her hatred of the deadly silver rain overcoming all other distractions, though she will pay careful attention to the preservation of her own hide; << It would be a horrible shame to destroy my beauty with such a scar! >>

Voice:
Auribeth's mental voice is usually a smooth, warm soprano, not too high-pitched but definitely feminine. When she is upset, however, she can project in a strident fashion that will brook no hindrance. She *will* have your attention-and she'll get it however she came, including being loud enough to deafen. Vocally, her croons and cries tend to be a bit on the dramatic side, nearly always just a bit louder or a bit more melodious sounding than they need to be, drawing attention to her with luxurious trills that aid her natural flamboyance.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
Floria Tosca is a passionate, jealous woman, a singer in love with a painter (Mario Cavaradossi) who has hidden an escaped political prisoner, Angelotti, (a supporter of Napoleon) in a secret chamber in his well. Putting together a strange assortment of clues, the chief of police, Scarpia, decides that Cavaradossi knows where the missing prisoner is. Scarpia takes Cavaradossi and has him tortured within hearing of Tosca, all the while describing everything that is happening. Tosca folds, and tells Scarpia where to find Angelotti. Scarpia demands Tosca's favours as payment for her lover's life, to which she finally agrees, and Scarpia says there will have to be a mock execution to make everything look right. She knifes Scarpia when he attempts to have his way with her, prying her and Cavaradossi's letter of safe conduct from his dead hand. Tosca makes her way to her lover's cell and tells him to play along with the mock execution so they can make their escape. He does, but the firing squad use real bullets, and he dies, Tosca, in her distress, throwing herself from a parapet to her own death.

Virescent Jade Sanctuary Ring:
The ring is the gemstone, carved from a solid piece of flawless jade, a deep green the colour of lush meadows and the first brilliant days of spring, a verdant green overflowing with life. It has been worked into a garland of blossoms, not just a few but many. They are small and together in a plethora of nature's grace. It would take a second look or three to see the merry creature that hides with in the blooms. There she is, this dragon that is curled up amongst this cornucopia of flowers. She sleeps in this glade, safe and protected amongst the petals that tickle her hide.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

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If I Were An Egg:
If I were an egg, I'd have to hatch. But I don't want to, so I'm not an egg. In any sense this ovoid, isn't very oval or even egg shaped anymore being completely covered in misshapen lumps of ash and cinders. In fact, it now looks more like a mossy covered boulder, perfect for finding a seat upon.

Autumn Leaves Egg:
A mess of warm shades congregate about the shell of this egg. Patches of orange and brown fade and crumble in the background while splotches of fiery yellow and crimson seem to lay in the foreground, each delineated by a distinct jagged edge. The area of colour pile up here and there, producing depth with dark shadowy recesses among the rich autumnal shades.

Egg Inspiration:
"This egg was inspired by the colourful turn of the leaves in Autumn. Its the long standing practice of children to find the soft piles of leaves to jump in, borrow in and generally spread all over the yard."-- Theida.

Hatching Message:
If I Were An Egg has neither shaken, nor stirred, for quite some time. Instead, politely, it waits its turn. However, now it lurches back and forth, gyrating to and fro, very unbecoming of an egg such as itself. And now it's soiled! Ash stains its side, but only for a short time as the unthinkable, yet inevitable happens: The egg rolls off its sandy pillow and hits the ground, splintering into a multitude of shards and revealing the hatchling inside.

Thunder Cloud Hatchling:
A roiling dark mass of cloud looms threateningly: dark as deepest night, and impenetrable to the eye. The edges blur from focus, swirling cloud holding no shape that the eye can fix upon. Flickers of colour within the cloud threaten the lightening that will be brought by this storm. Clouds of gray smoke billow around, rising in the heated air. Twisting, turning and swirling around, this dragon sometimes resembles a miniature whirlwind, then slows again to hang in motionless obscurity, hovering above the ground.

Impression Message:
Thunder Cloud Hatchling makes its way towards a gray-cloaked candidate, standing perfectly still for a few moments. The drizzle begins to coalesce into small rivulets that course down the hide of this small dragon, sweeping away the layer of gray. As the moments pass, more and more of the malachite hide becomes visible. Then, a soft croon gradually turns into an incessant creel as she looks lovingly into Erin's eyes.

Antediluvian Malachite Green Hatchling:
Languid waters ease their way across a sandy plain, a ribbon of water meandering to bring a tropical effusion of life to this desert of ancient civilisation, cimmerian ripples undulating across the velvet surface of this green hatchling's flanks. Sunlight dances across malachite hide, wavelets widening as colours meld into a dark patina, flowing smoothly over shoulders and haunches as this antiquated river runs its course. Luminescent droplets of emerald, rubies and sapphires crown her neckridges, a ransom equal to any queen's finery, jewel tones fading in the curve of her tail. Muzzle, finely drawn in shimmering olive, darkens perceptibly as the current drifts over her head, lines of kohl encircling each eye before sweeping upwards towards equally caliginous eyeridges, lending an almost feline appearance to her expression. Gossamer wings form a subtle contrast against the beryl of her torso, milky jade presenting an illusion of frailty, ethereal image aided by the spinner's web sketched lightly against the aileronic membranes.

Hatchling Inspiration - Aida:
Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901) was an Italian operatic composer, whose works stand among the greatest in the history of Italian opera. In general, Verdi's works are most noted for their emotional intensity, tuneful melodies, and dramatic characterizations. He transformed the Italian opera, with its traditional set pieces, old-fashioned librettos, and emphasis on vocal displays, into a unified musical and dramatic entity. His operas are among those most frequently produced in the world today and include Rigoletto (1851), Il Trovatore (1853), La Traviata (1853) and Aïda (1871) on which this hatchling is based. Aida is the story of ancient Greece and revolves around Radames, a commander in the Egyptian army, Aida, an enslaved Ethiopian (actually the Ethiopian king's daughter), and the Princess, Amneris. Mariyth's description is based on the river that plays such a vital part of Egypt's history; the Nile.

Impression Message:
Darkness closes in around you. Not simply the black of the night but something much more enveloping, almost suffocating. The world becomes solid, as if reaching out you will feel nothing but solid stone around you. The silence grows even deeper and the sensation of total isolation slowly settles around. Gentle tendrils, the beginnings of a presence, slip into your awareness. It grows stronger with each passing moment, the presence slipping into emotions -- discovery, warmth, ecstasy, but most importantly love. Finally a lyrical voice enfolds your awareness, banishing all else << Erin, I am Mariyth and we will be together always. >> A pause before another sensation washes over you, this one of overwhelming hunger.

Name - Mariyth:
Mariyth, pronounced Mar-ree-eth, comes from the Romany word ‘Martiya’ which means Spirit of the night. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
If one word were used to describe Mariyth, it would be sensual. Not simply in the traditional meaning of the word but the way she relishes each of her senses. She wants to see, touch, smell, listen, and even taste everything she comes into contact with. Have you ever noticed the fresh smell that occurs on the first rainfall after a dry spell? She will. She will inhale deeply and want you to savour that scent as well. << Erin! You must smell this, is it not beautiful?>> Bathing and oiling will be an experience in itself. The feel of the water, the bristles of a scrub brush, the touch of your hand as you massage the oil into her hide She will insist on several brushes, all with varying bristle textures. Plain oil will suffice, but she will truly delight in those occasions when you add a bit of scent to the oil, adding yet another sense to the experience. Just wait until she begins to hunt for herself, from the air rushing against her wings as she swoops, to the crunch of bones and the warmth of blood, each sensation is one to be savored and shared with you, naturally.

She will want to be surrounded by beauty, whether it is flowers or tapestries or even finger paintings done by a child, to her each contains its own allure. She has the ability to see the attractiveness of anything, but not simply in the traditional definition of the concept. What others see as a blank wall of stone, she can admire the pattern of the cracks that have formed, the variations of the colour, or the shape of its outline. While most believe a scar to be a disfigurement, she will see it as something to be admired. Not only for the way it was received, but how it distinguishes itself. After all, no two scars are alike, are they?

Once she gets past hatchling awkwardness, Mariyth carries herself with grace and style, almost regal bearing. Though for some reason, she tries to hide this, as if she were a Lady Holder hiding in a drudge's world. Occasionally it will slip out, especially in contrast to her less than graceful clutchsibs. Vanity is not one of her vices, she knows her beauty and worth, therefore she does not need the affirmation of others. As a result, she is not one for empty flattery from those whose opinions do not matter. << Why should I care *what* they think >> On the other hand, She will value praise that reflects some thought, particularly in the eloquence of the phrasing. Likewise, compliments from her will be made all the more precious due to their rarity.

Unlike many dragons, she is not a gossip. Once she has learned how to control her feelings and not broadcast to the weyr, expect your confidences and your feelings to stay close to her. Before then, she will be rather dismayed to discover what she has done, especially if it embarrasses you in any way. To bad she is not as careful with her actions. You tell her you like Nymath's rider, she will begin to watch him, trying to figure out what you see in him. She will then tell you everything he does. You would want to know, right? Held just a close are her own interests, you and you alone will know that she adores any certain dragon, it could be Suriath today or Muinyth tomorrow. You can expect soft comments whenever he is happens to be near, but she will take pains not to allow anyone but you know of her most recent infatuation.

Like all dragons, Mariyth accords to Tiarnath as the Senior Gold her proper respect and obedience without question. But Breilth is close behind in her admiration. It will be him that she turns to if she is scared or confused. His word carries considerable weight, not only because his rider is the Weyrleader, but because he is her sire. It will be due to your memories that she will keep this image in mind.

All this changes as the time grows near for her to rise. She begins to display a petty and vindictive side to her normally sweet personality. She will become picky about her oiling, wanting her hide to glimmer just so. You move from lifemate to servant as her demands increase. << My talons are dull, you must polish them! >>, then if you do not respond with appropriate speed, her demands become more insistent. << Erin! I am *waiting* >>. Her constant comments change as well, displaying a jealous streak. If a dragon happens to catch her eye, expect her comment to vary from effusive praise << Have you seen the way that Gineth's hide catches the light, it dances! Look at how wonderfully he flies >> to nasty comments << Why didn't he *look* at me? Maybe he is blind or stupid? >> Did Gineth spend more time with Mesanth than her? How dare he? How dare she? Never mind that her own attentions will be wavering even quicker, she is the center of all that is important. When she does rise, to your relief, she will lead her chasers on a merry chase indeed. They must prove themselves worthy of her company after all!

Hopefully, you have a strong sense of yourself and who you want to be. She can be overpowering in her strength of purpose, especially when it comes to defending something she loves. Your challenge will be to temper that single-mindedness, especially when fighting thread. You may have a struggle to force her to leave the fray, even then she will try to find a way to rejoin the fight. She can be rather stubborn, no open resistance, but just try to force her.

The worst thing that could happen to this green is to be trapped between two things that she loves or if she feels that you are facing the same dilemma. Her distress in this situation will be palatable by anyone around her. That is perhaps one of the few times that she would turn to someone other than yourself for help, first turning to her clutchsire, Brielth.

Voice:
A tribute to the senses, her melodic voice provides yet another aspect to her personality. Never shrill, her voice ranges from a dramatic soprano when she wishes to draw attention to herself or falling into a gentle contralto when she knows the attention is already hers. Her words flow in a lyrical rhythm, reflecting a warmth almost reminiscent of the Igen desert, her words the rich relief of water to a parched land. Her meaning is carried as much through tone and timbre as through the words themselves.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
Aida was among the operas commissioned by the Egyptian ruler, Ismail Pasha to commemorate the opening of the Suez Canal, the first Cairo performance taking place on December 24th, 1871. It was to be not just an opera but a celebration of Egyptian history, bringing it to glorious life with elaborate settings and costumes. Aida is the story of a captured Ethiopian princess, Aida and her love for the Captain of the Egyptian Guard, Radames. Aida and Radames are trapped between their love for the Captain and their loyalty to their respective native lands. Finally, Aida follows her duty and leads her love to betray his country with the hope that they may escape to Ethiopia, where she will retake her place on the throne with Radames at her side. But he in turn is betrayed by the one whose love he spurned. He chose to accept his death, believing that Aida was safely away. However, she decided not to escape but to spend an eternity trapped with her beloved by sneaking into the vault. Mariyth's personality is amalgamation of the main characters from the Opera 'Aida'; Aida, Amneris, Daughter of the Pharaoh, Radames, Captain of the Egyptian guard, and Amonasro, Aida's father and King of Ethiopia.

Twining Tourmaline Vines Ring:
Silver has been worked into a delicate filigree of ivy leaves. They are almost fragile looking, each leaf touching another, twining and binding together to form this complex band. Lighter than one might think, the entire ring is made up out of this shining vine. The vine coils about a vivid stone green as the lushest of jungles. Its shape is in that of a large teardrop, faceted so the stone dances with colour and light. Sparks of darker and lighter green shimmer in the tourmaline's core. The gem is carefully placed amongst the shining vines almost as if it had grown from them.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

Wait Until Dark Egg:
Ashes have darkened this egg, leaving greyish streaks in a bizarre display of shapes and images. They have piled around in a glossy heap, nearly hidden in the deepening darkness. Light is swallowed whole, no chance for stray beams to escape and provide definition or shape of anything there on the sands.

Things that go Bump Egg:
A soft, creeping darkness lurks about in shadows over the curves of this egg. Billowing white flows in ghostlike form over the top and cascades down to a still, gray, shapeless nothing. A think ebon enshrouds the base circumference and stretches up with grasping claws. Among the shaded grays and midnight purples, a long, dark, crack-like onyx peeks open and shimmers, seeming almost to be moving wider and wider as if some unnamed beast is pushing it from the inside. A tiny splotch of nightglow yellow huddles in the very center of the swirling moonlit shapes.

Egg Inspiration:
"Delving back into my childhood memories, an image that comes vividly to my mind are the dark hours just before I would fall asleep. Shadows never seem quite as scary as they do when you're a child at bedtime. I would lie huddled under my blanket as close to the night light as possible and stare around my room with wide eyes, trying to make out the monster in the closet, the ghost in the window and the creature under the bed." -- Aislynn.

Hatching Message:
Wait Until Dark Egg shakes reluctantly, fidgeting and shifting back and forth. Then it is still for an uncomfortable pause, but its refusal to move doesn't last long: There's movement inside. Bits of ash, dark clumps of glass and other debris fall, as a fissure opens on the egg's surface. There's a head, and then it retreats. But the hatchling is ready to go *now*. What's left of the egg breaks open, and from this desperate doorway escapes a new hatchling.

Winter Tree Hatchling:
Spindly branches reach out from a dark looming trunk and long dead leaves rustle in the breeze. Dark shadows form beneath the limbs of this winter-bound tree, the pale sun never quite reaching. The branches swaying with the wind are the only sign of life, this tree must be dormant, awaiting the first touch of spring. Sunlight catches the boughs, cascading rainbows from the glass shards within the ash that rimes this hatchling.

Impression Message:
Ghosting through the mingled curtain of rain, and ash that falls from balconies above, the dainty Winter Tree Hatchling pauses to nose at a group of Candidates. Leaving behind a grey wet smudge on a barely white robe, a hint of green might be espied beneath the mud mask that coats the hatchling from nose to tail-tip -- the right one is not found here, no matter *how* interesting these ones are. A few more steps, a few more drops of rain and vibrantly verdant hide becomes increasingly visible as the dragonet pauses in front of Zoe and lifts adoring eyes to a beloved face.

Phantasmagoric Bohemian Green Hatchling:
Dust lifts from the road and dissipates in filmy clouds of ocher hue as the caravan moves on, a single soul left to view in its wake, a study of elegant independence in this dainty green's hatchling stance. Along verdant flanks reminiscent of the darkest jungles of the South, a play of light drifts in a nomad's dance, uplifting penumbral shades into a glorious phantasmagoria of viridity, a play of malachite, trading off for jaspered whorls of jade satin along sleek neck ridges and graceful limbs. Gathering again, into dusky folds of old velvet, the neck gives way to a gracefully upheld head, flanks dive into belly, hidden darkly beneath as a carpet of moss beneath a newly rolled stone. Pinions limned with trailing rusty dust striate with deep ribbons of emerald, only to fade out into near translucence, over wingsails' draping fall. Trailing behind, rust encroaches again along sinuous tail, it's darkness becoming lost in the swirling redness that masks it, turning green nearly brown, at tail's tip.

Hatchling Inspiration - La Bohème:
Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) was the last great Italian opera composer, heralded in his own day as the successor to the great Giuseppe Verdi. But Puccini's career started out in uncertainty. He was not a child prodigy, but a poor student, even in music -- until his teacher introduced him to opera. His passion for opera fueled his drive to study hard and work hard. A perfectionist, he worked and re-worked his operas, even after they had been performed. Thus did he improve Madama Butterfly, which originally was booed and hissed in the theater, but drew in audience after some careful three months' worth of revisions. La Bohème one of his most popular, but originally critically panned operas, gives a snapshot view of bohemian life in the Latin Quarter of early 19th century Paris. The story develops around the two lovers, Mimi and Rodolfo and their friend, and the ultimate tragic death of Mimi. He enjoyed a bit of the Bohemian spirit himself in a cottage by the lakeside where he entertained the friends he made in the village near where he wrote La Bohème. They founded the 'Club la Bohème', which excluded 'grouches, pedants, weak stomachs, fools, grumblers...', gave themselves statutes such as 'It is forbidden to play cards honestly' and 'Silence is prohibited' and generally raved it up eating, drinking, talking and playing cards.

Impression Message:
A tremolo of thought winds its way into your mind, soft and adagio at first, the first movement of a sonata, barely perceptible as the bow is drawn sweetly across the strings. Then a crescendo and the tempo shift, demanding more of your attention now as adagio gives way to allegro animato. << Are you there Zoe? Yes! You are. I am Ziareth. I have found you. And how lovely you are! Oh we shall have such wonderful times together. But I hunger now. Will you not help me find something delicious to eat? >> Cresting to full now, the music of your lifemate's voice is choruses of strings within your mind, letting you know that you, and she are together now, forever.

Name - Ziareth:
Ziareth, pronounced Zee-ar-eth, comes from the Italian word ’Zingaresca’ which is used to describe Romany people. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
A true dreamer, even a poet, this dainty green will keep you busy for hours on end with her philosophical reflections on the world around her, the poetry in a single flower, the loveliness of a clear blue sky. Though valiant in fighting Thread, she can also appreciate the odd beauty as well as the menace of her ancient foe, a soul rich in the realms of fantasy, and deep with passion too. Her fresh outlook on the world will never change, a bohemian spirit that delights in contemplating the deeper meanings of things, as much as a dragon can. Though her flights of fancy are many, she will be a steadfast and loyal companion, who no matter the odds will always work and strive to overcome the worst and grow buoyant and joyous when things go well.

A lover of beauty, in both form and soul, she will be particularly averse to any sort of ugliness that presents itself. Dragons are already disinclined to the violence and petty nature often seen in humankind, but Ziareth will be even more sensitive to displays of anger, cruelty or insensitivity, by dragon or human alike. In fact, she will be quite insistent that you either leave the scene of any ugly behavior, or urge you to find a way to << Please make the unhappy feelings stop. They are upsetting me. >> In that, she will oversimplify her discontent, tending to sound more like a young child than a full -grown dragon with a full vocabulary. Her feelings generally are straight forward, and easy to divine; she always tells what she feels, or makes it more than obvious. << Unhappy. Hurt. Zoe! >>

On the positive side, she delights in music and dance, the one to listen to, the other to observe and sometimes you may find that she attempts to emulate the graceful movements of dancing while in flight. Particularly mating flights: they offer so many chances to be a creature of the sky, and a boundless soul. Grace and nimbleness both attract and inspire her and are also the hallmarks of her own movements. She glories in the intricacies of flight, be it in drills for Threadfall, or the simple joy of flight itself. Expect her to speak to you often of her latest aerial feats, or beg you to << Come! Let us ride together! I will show you my latest dance! >> Not a huge green, her size will aid her in this task, allowing her a dexterity that can only be marveled at by larger siblings like Auribeth and Mariyth.

Not necessarily one to settle down for long, (other than you of course), Ziareth will also tend toward choosing many different blues, browns, or even bronzes, although these attract her attention far more rarely, to spend time with. Her size means that blues and browns are far more likely to catch her; a bronze would be far too large for her delicacy! Flirtatious, but not coy, she will no doubt entertain you for hours, with her tales of what this that or the other male has been telling her about now. In particular she will be attracted to those who can show her pretty pictures of new and exciting things, or divulge some thought that had not occurred to her before. If you choose a weyrmate, she may tend to favour that person's dragon, but her bohemian nature will still spur interest in others. She's just too curious about the world and all the lovely things and persons in it to limit herself to just one male, though it's certainly not outside of the realm of the possible.

Particularly fond of flowers and bright shiny things, Ziareth will appreciate 'gifts' from friends and suitors, with which to line her wallow or weyr. She may forget who gave her what, but she will still delight in the objects long after the occasions for which they were given have been forgotten. She's not a hoarder per se, but she will enjoy anything that captures her interest and again, tell you all about what she thinks and why these objects are so interesting. She does like gifts that last, more than anything: a plant in her wallow that will grow, and stay, long after cut flowers will have died, for example, is a wonderful gift. Things that grow fascinate her, and she'll encourage gardening in you -- << So pretty, Zoe! All those teeny little coloured bits. What're they called again? Ah, petals. >>

Proddiness will bring Ziareth down with a clunk from her usual dizzying heights. Her moods will darken, her insatiable positivity will diminish, and she'll generally sulk and grow moody. Males will be avoided at all costs; she's ugly, see, and they'll make fun of her. Even you will be affected by this mood swing, perhaps tending to go into jealous snits over another girl, echoing Ziareth's own reactions. The flight when it comes will be a relief more than a trial: short, but blessedly normal for Ziareth, who will fly with bohemian abandon.

Ziareth will not often fall prone to blue funks, and when she does, they are fleeting moods at best. Buoyancy, delight and dreams are the defining characteristics of your lifemate, one who will sustain and cheer you even in your darkest hour, leaving no doubt in your mind that you have found your match at last.

Voice:
Ziareth's voice resounds in your head with the sweet range of a string instrument, plucked or bowed, the sound is delicate and joyous, though a note of sweet melancholy often sings within, reminding you of distant places, home left behind, the wide open spaces of the land and road. Sometimes the strings echo together in a buoyant choir of combined sound, at others they mute to a poignant vibrato, the merest breath of sound to convey the depth and breadth of her feelings. Upon being chased, she will make the most incredible sounds, perhaps reminiscent of a string suddenly breaking mid-tune. Her croons deep and sonorous, a bow drawn long and slow across the last string, to ease your fears.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
The opera 'La Boheme', by Puccini, is one of the more famous operas in the world today, and tells the story of several down-and-out, near penniless young people in the Latin Quarter of Paris. Marcello, an artist, and Rodolfo, a poet, burn pages of Rodolfo's latest drama in order to stay warm. Luckily for them, Colline, a philosopher, and Schaunard, a musician, surprise them by bringing food and fuel for the fire, and money to spend time at the nearby café. Rodolfo stays behind, meeting Mimi, whose candle he re-lights, before she collapses upon the floor, dropping her key and blowing out both candles. As they search for the key, they exchange stories, falling in love. Meanwhile, Musetta, formerly Marcello's girlfriend, deserts her wealthy new boyfriend to rejoin her friends, and Marcello. The story continues in February, when Mimi, obviously very sick, breaks off with Rodolfo, who is worried about her illness and their poverty, while Musetta and Marcello break off in anger when Musetta flirts with a stranger. Several months later, Musetta arrives to say that Mimi is dying, and wishes to see Rodolfo, in whose arms she dies.

Elusive Echo Emerald Ring:
Softly buffed gold has been worked into the form of a ring. Carefully engraved into the surface of one side of the ring is a dragon, her wings stretched wide as she rides the wind, carried aloft. Her maw is open to roar with her joy in flight, her tail spiraling out behind her. She is there again however, mirrored on the opposite side of the ring, roaring back at her twin. And there between the muzzles of both dragons is a trilliant cut emerald, deep in color, much like the lush grasses found on the high plateaus. Flickering within the core of the jewel is an elusive blue that seems to be there then is gone in a second much like a the dance of a flame.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

There's an Egg:
There's an egg in there -- deep within a heavy layer of ashen debris, sticking with vehemous instinct to the rounded ovoid. Brushes of air swirl currents of ash about its form, as the air fills with the gray-hued matter, layering deep -- as if to hide the egg within from all comprehension.

Cleanliness is next to Egg:
Random markings and lines of ecru on the surface of this nearly totally white egg yield the impression of wrinkles. Up close, it's quite plain that the surface of the ovoid is utterly smooth, and indeed slightly waxy in appearance. One gleaming spot of silver shows itself, an oblong shape blazoned on the side of the egg that draws the eye away from the expanse of ivory and snow.

Egg Inspiration:
It's an essential part of childhood that people don't think much about, or take for granted -- the diaper, held closed with silvery diaper pins.

Hatching Message:
With a sudden lurch, There's an Egg moves! Or so it thought it did. Then the wiggle comes again, not a mistake at all but the attempts of something to break free. Shards fall loose, slipping to the sands as the hatchling inside destroys its past home and then walks free. Nothing is left but the collapsed remains.

Icy Lake Hatchling:
Dark bubbles rise up in winter gray ice, movement flickering deep down in this frozen lake. Darker shapes move beneath, hinting of life somehow surviving. Is there something here? Or is it just a shadow, creeping, seen one moment in the sun, then fading into shade again? Its unclear form seems sometimes small, then moments later grows to the lengthy shadows of evening, as though the sun were dappled the waters, slanting into the depths. Wind formed ridges cast shadows across the ice, giving the illusion that this lake is ever moving, towards some goal only it knows.

Impression Message:
*Splat*, *splat splat* One raindrop, then two and three, and more, drop down from the skies onto the grayed hide of the Icy Lake Hatchling approaching a huddle of Candidates. Like skirts of gossamer lifted by an impudent holder lass to give a quick glimpse of colourful hosen and a sparkling glasslike shoe, gray gives way to terse flashes of indigo, azure, ultramarine and cobalt, then another, dusty colouring becoming vivid beneath the swirling retreat of wetted ash. He pauses -- neck stretched upward, a royal gesture of dignity, hope and promise, in front of Jyanda, to croon so sweetly to her that a Harper would smile.

Debonair Velvet Blue Hatchling:
Sunlight caresses the finest velvet, the rich folds of which clothe this most prosperous of Lord Holders', fabric enhancing courtly appearance and chiaroscuro dancing across periwinkle hide. Smalt dapples flanks, the crystalline glass shimmering over shoulders, while potash smudges haunches into tenebrous shadows, as though they'd been rubbed in the cold ashes of a once roaring fire. Dashing hues of amethyst arc upwards from his muzzle, vanishing behind a bice-tinted mask that conceals true identity, while lapis lazuli chains intertwine each neckridge, linked together like a lover's embrace. Beryl and cobalt aid debonair appearance in the embroidery that patterns his waistcoat, designs ultimately concluding in the polished ebony of his booted talons. Midnight traipses over pinions, twilight shades of iridescent darkness luxuriously brocaded, like an elegant cloak, as they spread beguilingly over wings.

Hatchling Inspiration - La Cenerentola:
Gioacchino Antonio Rossini (1792-1868) was an Italian composer, and considered the most successful operatic composer of his time. Rossini's operas were the last and best in the Italian opera buffa, or comic opera, style. Typically light and lively, their music is notable for its high degree of comic characterization. He was one of the three great 19th-century exponents of the bel canto style, which emphasizes beauty of melodic line, rather than excessive drama and emotion. He used it to his advantage to fashion bright melodies, which the singers could deliver with brilliant effects and stirring expression. Few of his operas are played today, the two most well known are William Tell (1829) and The Barber of Seville (1816). La Cenerentola (1817), on which this hatchling is based, is the story of Cinderella and the hatchling portrays the Prince and the bracelets that form a central part of the tale.

Impression Message:
At the outermost edge of hearing comes an intense throbbing, like the beating of a great, passionate, seeking heart, growing in your ears -- no, in your mind. Bit by bit, the pulsating beats become distinct, primordial patters rooted in newfound waves of familiarity. These are words, words spoken to you with startling profundity, beating out a distinguishable rhythm. Is it music? Is it only speech? No, for it is also imbued with a surety of deep feeling. A wave of intense love, tinged with need flows through your being as words finally take shape, the beating of the heart bearing a clear message of love. << Jyanda? Yes. It is you that I seek. Only you. I am Kaisyth. Now that I have found you, we will always be together. We are the perfect match in all things! >>

Name - Kaisyth:
Kaisyth, pronounced Kay-seth, comes from the Romany word ‘Sonkai’ which means Gold. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
Now that Kaisyth has found you, he'll take you under his wing. Precocious even as a hatchling, he will develop into a wise, knowledgeable dragon rapidly as he gains experience and information, which he will drink in with a thirst. Noble to a fault, he'll use his wisdom to promote his personal pride to others, so that they might agree with him, and be learned. He is always interested in a new idea or concept, and is quick to pick up on them and understand them, twisting them around in his mind to produce even more ideas of his own. Ever the philosopher, he will enjoy these mental acrobatics more than any physical activity. This can be a major inconvenience, for example, when a delightful new concept strikes him just before N'all calls for ground drills. Go walk around in formation when you can be *thinking* these beautiful *thoughts*? << Honestly, Jyanda, that's not possible. Really! >>

His philosopher's mind never stops, and it doesn't pause to consider whether or not it is a convenient time to exercise it, so it'll be up to you to rein him in when it begins to run rampant. He may keep you up half the night pondering why his stone couch is solid, and if it's really there, or if it's only there because he thinks it's there. While swimming, he may leave you stranded to explore the possibility of walking on water -- he knows he cannot walk on water, but if he *believed* he could do so, could he do it then? Can he only not walk on water because he doesn't believe he can? And could it never be tested, for the tiniest grain of doubt would ruin the perfect belief necessary, of course.. and so on. The best part is, with a dragon's short memory, you may have the opportunity to delve into the mysteries of water-walking time and time again!

He'll be a tutor to you, in every way he can, whether you prove to be an apt pupil or not. His wisdom will show through in his demeanor and interactions with his clutchmates, and when he proves to them an invaluable source of information, he will rely heavily on your memory to retain all the knowledge he amasses, and you'll be required to produce the information on demand so he can then supply it to his pupils. His pride will only increase when they realize his abilities -- << See, Jyanda? I knew they knew I was wise and good. >> He may go so far as to quiz you occasionally, to make sure you are remembering all the important things he needs remembered, and not letting them leak out of your head as they do from his.

With his pronounced predilection toward intellectual pursuits, Kaisyth isn't as interested in physical matters as many dragons. This is blatantly obvious when it comes to flying thread -- while he has the determination to destroy Thread and protect his Weyr that all dragons possess, he is also possessed of a timidity in 'fall that is unusual. He'll be a wary dragon, inclined to hold back his flame in fear of possibly flaming too near to a wingrider, or he may go *Between* when not strictly necessary, in nervous anticipation of Thread that might be a little too near for comfort. He'll be properly chagrined when Ceruth blisters his "ears" for his nervous behaviour in the air, but will continue just as he did before; << I know what I'm doing, nonetheless, Ceruth. >>

His movements are generally awkward on the ground, for he spends little time working at grace, preferring to think about it rather than exercise it. << What *is* grace? How do we learn what we consider to be grace? How does one possess grace, and why do we find it appealing? Do we find it appealing, only because we believe we should? >> He is definitely a creature meant to be airborne, and he is less clumsy when in flight, though he still exercises no deliberate grace of motion, flying being merely something he must do, to get from here to there, between interesting thoughts.

When it comes to the ladies, Kaisyth has a keen interest.. but not for himself, particularly. An incorrigible matchmaker, setting up a 'perfect' match is the only thing more captivating to him than his impractical philosophy. He does not go racing about the Weyr, setting couples up willy-nilly, no! Not Kaisyth, for he has far more dignity and pride than that! He is sly, sneaky in his plots. << You see V'tali, there? He has no weyrmate. But look how that lady brownrider eyes him -- we must make this so! >> He will go to great lengths to get his chosen couple together, resorting to tricks if necessary. << Enaeth, call your rider to the Landing Field. Why? Tell him.. tell him he is needed there. >>

When a green begins to glow is the only time he will take an interest of his own, and at this time, the only match he will be interested in pursuing is his own, or that of you with the green's rider. He may try to chat up the proddy green, sharing his outlandish ponderings with her, but when the flight itself occurs, he is all action. Fortunately, though he lacks grace, he does not lack speed, and can even manage some pretty slick maneuvers, though not as ably as the blues more inclined to practice their aerobatics. If he should catch a green, he will be delighted, and will be thoroughly enthralled with her.. until The Thoughts creep back into his head. This takes, in general, less than a full day, and the greens may be inclined to toss him out unceremoniously when he stops lavishing attention on them, and returns to lavishing it on his own thoughts.

Voice:
Kaisyth is a talkative dragon, who loves to discuss his ideas with anyone willing to listen, and loves nothing more than a pupil to instruct. Every word he shares is liberally laced with wisdom, a patient and kind teacher sharing his heavy knowledge-although his natural pride adds its own depth. A rich, sonorous baritone envelopes his audience in warm ochre and cherrywood smoke, resonant and wise, in keeping with his distinctly deep, rumbling vocalizations, which seem to thrum from his very core.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
La Cenerentola is a Cinderella story, although it departs from the traditional fairy tale on several points. Cenerentola is oppressed by her stepfather, Don Magnifico, Baron of Montefiasconce, and made to wait hand and foot upon her stepsisters. When the Prince holds a ball to find himself a wife, his tutor and a Philosopher, Alidoro, contrives to get Cenerentola to the ball, where she and the prince fall in love. Cenerentola gives the prince a bracelet, then dashes off, and he uses this to find her, the story eventually ending with Cenerentola and the prince being married.

Tranquil Sapphire Tarn Ring:
Silver has been molded into the shape of a ring; its surface is a scene of the mountains that the southern continent is so well known for. Points extrude where the summits of mountains would be, carefully carved crevices dip where valleys would be. The mountain peaks reach up to grab at the gemstone, which is what makes this ring larger than some of the others. The sapphire, which rests in the center of the miniature mountain range, looks almost like a high mountain lake; its rounded surface is smooth without facet. The blue gem has the color of deep fathomless water, but there in the center is that spark, that silver star which reflects in the core of a jewel of this quality. Etched on the interior of the band is a delicate dragon, his form is stretched out in repose, his eyes lidded. This exquisite little dragon is detailed so all of his form can be seen. He is in a contented sleep under the protection of the mountains on this ring.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

Steamy Haze Egg:
The flickering wavy air patterns of haze obscure this egg, the air warm with water and the chance of something to hide. Images appear distorted, perhaps there, perhaps not, leaving nothing to focus on long enough to catch a good view. Still, there is something there. Or is there?

Oh No you Didn't Egg:
Somehow this egg seems to have an air of false innocence about it -- from the small, inconsequential shapes, to the paler pastels that decorate the shell. Amidst this, shades of angry red daub the ovoid at seemingly random spots as well as vague face hues in expressions of horror and disbelief. The base is taken up with chaotic designs like someone had run riot over it with a paintbrush, and just underneath is what looks like neat black text -- a lesson learnt perhaps. On another side there is an image of what seems to be a small pink human figure, which appears to be running about a busy scene, filled with a myriad of hues and shapes, with nothing on.

Egg Inspiration - Doing Things you Shouldn't:
"This egg is based on all those times you horrify your mother by doing something that you didn't know was wrong. Like painting over an important document, or breaking her favourite lamp while playing soldiers." -- Tiri.

Hatching Message:
Steamy Haze Egg trembles, then goes still, subtle shadows of off-white the only evidence it ever moved. The eerie silence, during snowfalls that surely gave it its bleached appearance, is contrasted by a sharp cracking sound -- the first sign of thawing? Its surface splits in chaotic spinnerweb patterns, a darker object pushing out from within, and suddenly the egg ruptures in a blizzard of fragments, revealing the heart-melting inhabitant within.

Twilight's Dusk Hatchling:
In the gloaming light, movements appear in spurts and flashes of something hidden in the fading of the day. It creeps over the sands, footfalls almost silent as it walks, safer in the darkness that spreads slowly now and then faster as night comes to call. Only as the true dark falls will it come out completely, black hidden against black.

Impression Message:
Slowly, the ash simply falls from the Twilight's Dusk Hatchling hide as it moves, hitting the sands in a dusty cloud that fades away. Shimmering shades of dark blue revealed, a dusky landscape of sapphire twilight hide. He stops in front of one candidate, his choice among all there. A soft croon is emitted as his eyes meet Wiebke's.

Imperial Heavenly Blue Hatchling:
Midnight hues sweep the breadth of night darkened land, shadowy columns marching in a stately procession that is half hidden in shadows, the hide of this hatchling shimmering with the first touch of cerulean light. Lapis lazuli speckles his flanks, faint traces of gold hidden in the landscape of his body and down the murky shade of his belly. A malignant tone of navy spreads, coiling around his feet, before creeping upwards across his legs and down the curved length of his tail, eventually beaten back by cascades of aquamarine that capture avaricious talons and outline the brightness that resides in the fork of his tail. Indigo flirts with his headknobs, the efflorescence fading slowly like the night sky banished by the impending dawn, sun-warmed turquoise greeting the horizon of his neckridges. Eventide dominates wings, sapphire highlights pinions, reminiscent of a starry night, spreading out along wingsails where patterns become decipherable in the hidden depths of colour, which sparkle in faint translucence.

Hatchling Inspiration - Turandot:
Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) was an Italian composer, whose operas blended intense emotion and theatricality with tender lyricism, colourful orchestration, and a rich vocal line. He was working on Turandot when he died, the opera, his most exotic, was completed by Franco Alfano and had its premiere in 1926. The lead for the Opera, Turandot is the daughter of the Son of Heaven, the Chinese Emperor. She is a complex woman, greatly respectful for tradition, but also highly resourceful in getting her own way. It is her insistence that her suitors answer three riddles to gain her hand in marriage. But the failure of her riddles brings its own price, death. The high numbers of deaths worry the chief ministers of the country, that the land and the spirit of the country are being harmed. Only at the last does one suitor, Prince Calaf, win her heart by guessing the riddles and by her learning his name and the meaning of sacrifice from those loyal to him. Thusly, Turandot learns to love.

Impression Message:
There is a whisper, a tease against your mind, a curious testing of you. Then again the brush of feeling comes, stronger now, as the one behind it grows bolder. Finally a sound emerges, a voice half heard in the distance, calling and coming nearer as it does. Words finally become clear, a melding of thoughts, sensations and questions. There is judgment and joy there as the voice speaks strongly << Wiebke. I have found you -- you, the one that I love, out of all choices. I am Wynth. >> A hesitancy then, while it waits. << You love me of course? >>

Name - Wynth:
Wynth, pronounced Win-th, comes from the Romany words ‘awenydd’ and ‘awenyddion’ which means Inspired one, or a seer/shaman. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
A figure of great integrity, Wynth will always be true to both you and himself within. << I cannot lie, >> he promises without pause, << I just can't. Sorry, Wiebke. >> No matter your intent, your cause is second to his own personal morals, and these will not be compromised. In truth, once Wynth has put an idea within his head, he will remain true to the success of that idea without pause, no matter your own reasoning, or anyone else's for that matter. Good argument rarely sways him, no matter how close that person is to him, for he has the faintest level of ego that insists he knows what he's doing. Nonetheless, he will attempt to protect you without fault, tending to believe that you are entirely within his own hands; it's his job to protect you from harm.

Misguided although he might seem at times, Wynth is as straight as an arrow, and generally cannot be faulted in this. Trouble or intrigue cannot sway him, nor personal advancement. In fact, Wynth's true stumbling point is only a single idea, although it will plague him to distraction-not that he's unhappy about it. Females are a problem, a real problem, causing compromise to his ideals. Beauty, rather than wit, attracts him, beyond his usual steadfastness, and a beautiful green will distract him without pause. He'll do anything for the green his sights have been set upon, falling after her to do her will, and gain grace in her eyes. Moreover, if he can make her slightly sensible in the process, well, that's hardly a fault, is it? << See, Ziareth, all you have to do is look at it logically, and you'll be laughing. >> Odd phrases are a trademark of his.

Puzzles delight Wynth, one of his real joys in life beyond the trailing of lascivious greens. Give him a sticky problem to solve, and he'll be content for days, working out all the likely outcomes with a deft mind that retains structure through all outcomes. This will make him a great tactician; an ability that may well be utilized by your wingleader in adulthood. His modest outlook on life, however, will prompt him to retain a member of the group rather than one to stand out, in the best possible outcomes of life.

As much as he enjoys answering challenges, he almost prefers to give them out of his own accord. Riddles will always be his forte, to the point where he will talk in them as much as possible; << I am brown, I am red, if you collar me, I will be lead. I roam free, but am penned-what am I, Wiebke? >> You'll have to pick up his hints to gathering what he wants-a meal, perhaps. Honestly disliking winning over people, he'll offer his own challenge in return for one he has solved, to give a chance for getting even. << I won that one, but maybe you'll win this? >> he'll suggest, brimming over with delight at the very idea.

Unlike seemingly most of his clutchmates, Wynth is far more a dragon of the ground than the air. He's not graceful, and he's not particularly intrigued by the idea of flight, and, consequently, tends to set himself apart from those ideals. << You have legs, Wiebke, >> he'll note, << You can walk. No need for me to fly you to the beach. >> He's not lazy, he's just disinclined to exercise, and lacks the dexterity of many of his clutchmates.

Occasionally a creature of mystique, Wynth often prefers to stay anonymous in his actions and statements, for all that mentally and physically both he's not hard to pinpoint. Nonetheless, good deeds he does will be done without fanfare, and without personal pride, a definite point in his favour. << Don't tell Ysabeth, Wiebke, but I left a nice fat wherry out for her, for when she wakes up. >> He doesn't even need to watch when she does wake up, and finds that (blood drained and cold) meal on her doorstep: he's entirely sure that it will satisfy her, and that's all he needs to know. The last thing Wynth really wants in life is personal advancement and success; he's not really that kind of dragon, although if you're after it, he'll support you all the way.

Beyond the simple idea of chasing after beautiful greens, no matter their personality, thanks to his perceptions of beauty rather than wit, Wynth will tend to do the same with people. Should you wish to weyrmate an 'unbeautiful' person he may take an immediate aversion, although his conservative nature will allow him to re-gather his ideals, and allow this person into his heart. Cruelty, after all, is an aversion as far as he goes, and will be avoided at all costs, whether it be in relation to the killing of animals, or, as in this case, the acceptance of one you love. In that, he is a truly likeable sort, easy to get along with, which may settle your life together gracefully.

Above all, Wynth will be your closest companion and friend. He is absolutely devoted to you; would die for you, if it would make any difference, and it most likely wouldn't. He always has time to sit and listen to you, even when he's been ogling at a green, or supporting another dragon in conversation. << Excuse me, Kaisyth, I'd love to hear about your thoughts on grace, but Wiebke needs me, and your philosophies can wait. >> he'll say, using great speed to gather himself to your side.

Voice:
A steadfast bass, Wynth's voice merely enunciates his own stability, rock-solid rumbles the perfect compliment to his unceasing loyalty and ideals. Direct in speech, his voice holds this quality, too, refraining from usual mental imagery beyond such structures as parallel lines, which he uses to outline his mental processes. Physically, his voice is again in the lower registers, perhaps unsuited to a blue, but generally serving his purposes well.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
Puccini's final masterpiece, 'Turandot' tells the story of a princess who will marry only if a man can answer three riddles correctly. Those who fail will be beheaded, without remorse. Turandot's cruelty causes distaste from Calaf, a young prince who has hidden his identity to protect himself from his enemies, but her beauty has him fall head over heals in love, and accept her challenge. He answers her three riddles correctly, but she refuses to marry him. Calaf, having compassion, bargains with her that if she can find out his true name, she may kill him. Realizing that his life is in her hands alone, Turandot attempts to scour the city to find out Calaf's name. Liu, a servant of Calaf's father, admits that she knows his name, but kills herself to protect Calaf, stating that unless Turandot can learn to love, she will never know his name. Calaf admits his love for Turandot while Liu is mourned, kissing her, and revealing his name. Caught with this knowledge, Turandot's heart is melted, announcing that Calaf's name is 'Love', and accepting him as her husband to be.

Riotous Revelry Aquamarine Ring:
At first the ring appears as a simple white gold band, but upon closer inspection incredibly delicate work is revealed. Dragon upon dragon coil their way about the gleaming metal, each carefully etched on the surface. Their movements are merry, free wings are spread and allowed to catch air, and their tails flick out and about. Then embedded in what would be the front of the ring is a large aquamarine cut into a slender shape, like an ovoid, but stretched out more. The colour is deep for such a stone, like the ocean when the first light of dawn touches the water.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

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Upper Crust Egg:
Oh, just look at it. Deposited with great care on its own tuft of sand, this egg is living the good life. It shows little sign of excessive battering by the wave or having been dumped on by the ash and other particles from the eruption up north. Instead, this pure gray egg seems untouched by the elements. Whenever a stray beam from a glow or between clouds filters down and touches this fair ovoid, the light just gives it an added sheen -- and not a speck of darker soot seems to have come within range of this haughty little thing.

Love me Love me Not Egg:
With a shell that seems as thin and delicate as a new spring leaf or the petals of a flower, this small egg is near perfect in shape. Light shades of rich, grassy green blend slowly to teal, and then blue, with the crown a pale sky-blue. But most notable are the faint patches of creamy saffron yellow that dots the entire surface of the egg, whorls of white pinwheel around the yellow spots, making bright star-like patterns. The swirling design of radiant sunny yellow and snowy white lend an almost questioning air to the egg, warmth, light and innocent curiosity blending in the mix of beryl, azure, jasmine and ivory.

Egg Inspiration - Picking Flowers:
"When I was little, I loved picking flowers. I remember lying on the grass, playing he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not with the petals of the daisies, and the image of the very green grass and very blue sky of summer, and the rich saffron and startling white of the daisies, is one of my strongest impressions from childhood." -- Nausika.

Hatching Message:
The violent rocking of the Upper Crust Egg gives no doubt to the fight for freedom ensuing inside. The egg remains stalwart, determined to keep its prisoner entrapped, but it clearly cannot hold up much longer, and, at last, a head thrusts through the side, knocking a large portion of shell away. Forelegs and wings follow suit as this hatchling makes its sloggy way out into the grey, grey world, stumbling out of its shards.

Summer Storm Hatchling:
Only as the pale colour of the sky shifts to an unnatural hue does the storm threaten to break. Its fury banked beneath an eerie calm, a hushed waiting for the moment to release in savage destruction. Then springs down the storm in the whine of the wind and a rush of pelting rain, moving and flattening everything in its path. So does this hatchling move, with uncanny slowness and furious rushes, lightly on the sands.

Impression Message:
The Summer Storm Hatchling marches up to a certain figure, eyes shifting from red to yellow to red again behind its ashy disguise as it performs a quick inspection. Not that there's any doubt -- this hatchling's just waiting for a response. A croon begins, from deep in the ground underneath the hatchling. As the sound rises through its form, it starts shaking from some imagined wind. Bits of black and gray start piling at its feet, then more and more, as rain mists. Wingtips first: a faded blue. More ash melts, revealing violets and lavenders, and then spare precipitation from an overhead cloud washes away the rest to give life to this fragile creature -- his wings widen, tail twists nervously, and his head reaches forward to gently tap Zarrien on the chest.

Dried Flower Blue Hatchling:
Fresh and vibrant when plucked from the stem, this flower's soft petals have long since been dulled by the gentle passage of time -- the dried bloom's enduring remains colouring this violet-blue hatchling. Generous layers of somber indigo -- the underside of the blossom protected from Rukbat's fading properties -- root his flanks, giving him some much-needed shading across shoulders, his haunches the darkest of all as they escape the once protecting, and now debilitating, rays of sun. The brightest sapphirine and the faintest of lavenders effloresce across neck and head, curling with leafy greens over neckridges, before the hues intensify to orchid purples near the end of his tail's curve, while solid mauves variegate the slope of his belly, reaching down to loam-black rapacious talons. Wings seem ephemeral and fragile -- stamens of jade and turquoise forming the ridges that bud over pinions and link the wingsails, all lines subtle and subdued, yet essential for holding this gentle flower together.

Hatchling Inspiration - Carmen:
Georges Bizet (1838-1875) was a French composer, best known for his operas. He was born Alexandre Cesar Leopold Bizet in Bougival near Paris, and trained at the Paris Conservatoire under the French composer Jacques Halévy. The opera Carmen (1875) is generally considered his most important work. Although not an immediate success, it soon became one of the most popular works in operatic history. Bizet was an outstanding dramatist, and his style influenced the realistic, or verismo, school of opera in the later 19th century. Instead of the more well known "El Toreador" and "Habanera" arias, this hatchling is inspired by "La fleur que tu m'avais jetée" (the Flower Song). Soldier Don José, imprisoned for letting the gypsy Carmen escape arrest, kept a flower she gave him to remind himself of her. The flower on which this description is based is the Parme De Toulouse, a member of the violet family, which was brought from Portugal and Spain into France. It is a very fragrant flower, as was the flower Don Jose kept with him in prison for weeks.

Impression Message:
You are alone on the sands, white grains reflecting Rukbat high above. Ash is gone -- darkness shifted into light. Heat rises, obscuring objects both near and far. A flash of deep red! What's that in the distance? It is cheering, and incomprehensible voices. << Z'rien! >> A figure approaches, but then -- red/hunger! That background buzz, the throbbing chants of a distant crowd, recedes from your mind. What is left is definitely an orange tinge, increased heat, a burning sensation. << Z'rien! >> Again, that figure. Suddenly, red envelops you like a cape, a cloak, a blanket. The feeling slips from your shoulders, replaced by a cool, crisp blue. << Z'rien? >> That presence, so near, tickles the back of your neck, brushes your forehead. << You only had to appear, you only had to look at me to take possession of my whole being, oh my Z'rien! And I was yours! >> Something touches your chest and then the voice shifts to practical matters: << I am Onsrath and I hunger. >>

Name - Onsrath:
Onsrath, pronounced Ons-rath, comes from the Romany word ‘sónnasáster’ which means copper or bronze. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
Onsrath is a by the book, straight-laced sort. It's the kind of personality one might expect more from a brown or perhaps a bronze, if the truth be told, but he carries it with ease. He is fond of rules, and enjoys order to all extents; << Rules are not made to be broken -- if they were, they wouldn't be rules. Besides, it's messy. >> Structure is a good thing, and he'll be a very good student as you and he train as weyrlings. Underneath this regimental exterior, however, lies a hint of, a longing for disobedience. He is prone to passion and acting with his heart, not his mind -- just to make life complex and interesting.

This trait of his will not be apparent at first. He will be as passionate about you as any dragon, which is to say he will be absolutely devoted to you and all you stand for. He will never argue with you unless he truly believes his view is best for your both -- and he will be right almost every time. He'll never hold his successes over you, however, preferring to live life without conflict as he can. << It doesn't matter; let's move on. >> He serves you and you serve him; together, you are an unstoppable force. Or so he believes, and his encouragement will bolster your own courage in both your personal life and as a rider.

<< Yes, sir! >> or << Yes, ma'am! >> he'll respond, whenever a superior dragon addresses him -- no doubt to the consternation of many of them, for he cannot be put off this particular course or action. In fact, he's everything in a dragon that N'all hopes for in a weyrling. Onsrath's a quiet leader, but doesn't think of himself above his clutchsiblings; rather, he tends to encourage from within rather from above. << Good job, Chalith! We could all learn a thing or two from you. >> He will respect Teharyth's best intentions and forgive the excesses of his hubris, as he is just as serious about the *work* of being a dragon as your lifemate is. If you don't at first feel as confident with yourself as he is, Onsrath's own poise and self-confidence will be infectious.

He considers flying and fighting Thread very important exercises, worthy of complete concentration and a serious attitude. The same will go with drills. << We are not here to play. Ceruth said twice around the bowl and then down, so that's what we'll do. >> Onsrath feels his duty is to be the best dragon he can, and he is not inclined to be a daredevil for the sake of showing off -- but he certainly is capable of some tricky maneuvers with his relatively small size.

What gets him in trouble is when he discovers something that /intrigues/ him. << Who is *that*? >> he'll ask you, even as he appears to be paying attention to the task at hand, doing his usual perfectionist work. << We will go swimming in the lake later. I want to be able to hold my breath longer! >> His urges will be subtle at first, but he will be increasingly drawn to something until he's exhausted his interest in it -- and that's not going to happen quickly. Relish your training hours, because he will generally be on his best behaviour then. But once you're free, he will want to consider, contemplate, observe, and *experience* his latest passion. Besotted with a green? Even if she's not interested, it'll take some coaxing to get Onsrath to leave her alone: << Iesath is so, so -- well, she's Iesath! >>

He's the obsessive sort, strong-willed but sometimes very trying. He's the type that will chase greens with great enthusiasm, as often as he has the energy, and the will. No matter whether you like it or not, he does, and will give his all for it -- he simply *must* have her. << How can you deny fate? >> If he wins, the resulting mating will feel almost as intense as in a gold flight for you but especially him; if he loses, he will be utterly devastated. << How can she not *love* me? I would do *anything* for her! >> He will eventually forget, but the initial disappointment will be profound. You will have to find ways to distract him, but here's a hint: Appeal to his sense of the bigger picture; even a recommendation to "Buck up!" can sometimes do the trick.

He will flirt with the best of them, but he'll limit his attentions to a select few greens at a time. If he's 'in love' with one, the others will hardly get a second glance. Because her rider means so much to you, Belith will be treated almost like a sister, and it's unlikely (though not impossible) that Onsrath will ever develop romantic feelings for her -- even if you have feelings for Sienna. << She *is* special to you, isn't she? >> he'll ask, rhetorically. Of his clutchmates, the one who will consistently intrigue him is Mariyth, for she shares his love for intense study. << She's right. Look at all the different colours in the sky! Can we count them all? >>

Onsrath isn't dramatic every day. Some days his passion will be napping, the sun, or finding pictures in the stars, and you will share in his joy. Some days his passion will hardly show at all as he indulges in private delights. Dust off your pipes -- as soon as he realizes you can make music, he'll encourage you to play, even though life as a Harper is forever out of reach. << Play that one again. It makes you happy. >> He also would never intentionally get you in trouble -- rules are made for order, not to be broken. He's not a prankster, and he does not tolerate such things if they interfere with your development as a rider, because that is what you are, not what you will be. He means well, even if that one brand of fun will be off-limits to you.

Voice:
As in humans, Onsrath's voice changes drastically, depending on the circumstances. It will always be a strong tenor, with occasional lifts to a higher register when necessary to get a point across -- a deep, full sound that has room to move but does not vary widely unless he has reason to do so. When speaking with his superiors, he will clip his queries and answers and sound quite formal. In fall and drills, he will develop a shorthand combination of succinct images and few words that will be quite useful: << Clump right wind! >> It is only in more relaxed settings and circumstances that Onsrath speaks at length, always self-assuredly but never haughtily. He's one of the boys (and girls), so he will always try to match his tones and imagery to the conversation and its participants. This can range from thoughtful to playful, inquisitive to grave. He prides himself on his diplomatic skills, and rarely speaks out of turn.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
While Carmen is the namesake of the story, and the one whose actions drive the plot, the heart of Carmen is the soldier, corporal Don José, a man who loves one woman and a life of rules and order, but is tempted by a beautiful gypsy who lives a life very much wilder than his own. As his love for Carmen grows, he begins to break the rules and ultimately becomes a fugitive from the law. The opera reaches its tragic climax as Carmen falls for a bullfighter and the jealous Don José makes one last attempt at keeping Carmen for himself. His voice is a tenor, and has been portrayed by many famous singers including Plácido Domingo.

Enlaced Indigo Bouquet Ring:
At first glance the ring appears to be just blue and silver, then upon closer inspection much is revealed. Lapis lazuli a rich dark blue that it at times seemed to gradiate into deep violet had been carved into a band of tiny flowers, there are a multitude of blossoms forming into a garland almost. But they twist and bind and writhe together into this ring. Twining about the band of flowers, both obscuring and revealing the blossoms, are the thinnest of possible silver wires. They make a fragile net with which to restrain the flowers from blowing away.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

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Smoke Vent Egg:
Grey smoke swirls around in a dusky blur, vented here on this small patch of the sands. Sometimes shapes are seen, sometimes even the shape of an egg, but through it all the ashy smoke blinds and hides. No, there is no egg in the billowy gaseous cloud, there couldn't be.

Down to the Bottom Egg:
Mottled patches of green provide the illusion of deformity, as though the surface of the egg dips and swell in a myriad of hills. Murky dark jungle shades fade and morph into the golden hues of new foliage, creating shadows and highlights. Dustings of verdant emeralds and sandy yellows appear like grasses over a rolling landscape. Two dark strips can be made out among the crests and valleys, spiraling lengthwise from the sunny hilltop to the shadows below.

Egg Inspiration - Rolling down Hills:
"It's warm and sunny and the smell of grass fills the air. You walk along and suddenly the king of all hill appears before you. The downward slops spreads below and there's nothing at the bottom but soft grass. It's one of those hills you just *have* to roll down." -- Theida

Hatching Message:
Smoke Vent Egg shifts its position, leaning now precariously over the edge of its sandy home. Then it jerks the other way, and then back, and then it's rolling, the movement shrouded by a thick cloud of sand and whitish ash. Suddenly, an awful, bone-tingling scraping noise emits from within the darkened ovoid. Something's trying to get out. Talons finally manage to break the surface, sending ebony shards flying in all directions, the dragonet within revealed.

Sun-warmed Granite Hatchling:
Sunlight plays against silver and buff granite, sparkling as it hits patterns on the quartz and reflecting back the light. Ponderous and slow are its movements, it has the weight of time and the ages on its side. A shuffling step here, a lengthy stay there, whilst it considers its options. For choices are things that should never be made in haste, to be regretted later.

Impression Message:
As this dragon steps forward, streaks of colour show through in paths as the soft rain begins to wash him clean. Swathes of ochre cut through areas of dim, gray ash. As the Sun-warmed Granite Hatchling moves towards its target, more and more of his shading is revealed, the deep true brown being revealed in rushes and currents as the water gathers. Magnificent young wings shake off the muck and mud of the ash, revealing themselves in their full glory. He nudges Devin forcefully, and locks his whirling eyes into his new lifemate's own.

Ambiguous Tenebrous Brown Hatchling:
A dark and forbidding path wends through a leafless, barren wood that lifts caliginous fingers towards a darkened sky, which in turn spread shadowy traces across this hatchling's hide. Sepia, so clouded in obscurity as to be nearly black, sketches across his wings, creating a dappled appearance with the barely warmer cinnamon of aileronic background. Rich wet ochre smears in a heavens-seeking, vertical pattern over his flanks, matching bars marching across his ribs and down onto the cimmerian shades of his forelegs. From the tip of his nose spreads forth a twisting, narrow passage of worn, earth-torn brown, broadening as it races down his neckridges like the perspective in a painting, disappearing off into the infinity point of his muzzle. Trail transverses haunches, pushing back the dusky markings, before taking a sudden turn and vanishing from sight, leaving his tail obscurated as if hidden under the canopy of a myriad foliated trees.

Hatchling Inspiration - Don Giovanni:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) was probably the greatest genius in Western musical history. Mozart was born in Salzburg, Austria, and by the age of six had become an accomplished performer on the clavier, violin, and organ, and had started composing. Unfortunately, despite his prodigious talent, Mozart lived most of his life in poverty, his last work, a requiem mass, was his last musical effort. He died, presumably of typhoid fever, and was buried in an unmarked grave. Don Giovanni, considered one of best operas, premiered October 19, 1787, in Prague. It tells the story of a young knight, Don Giovanni, who has seduced many women, but whose sins are starting to catch up with him.

Impression Message:
The sands beneath you vanish, and you find yourself standing on a path in the woods, a path which you do not recognize. Betraying senses give you the feeling that you wander down this path, fearful of what the night may hold, the moon a silvery orb above. The moon? Yes there is only one. Slowly, you feel another presence, massive and edging towards you. Your steps slow, then stop all together. Curiously you wander off the path, into the woods themselves. The presence grows stronger, soon completely filling your mind. The darkness suddenly becomes light as a void within you is filled, a void you didn't even know you had. The voice that enters your mind is at once imperious and kind << Hello, D'vin, I am Chalith. I am hungry! >> Reality slams back into you in the form of hot sands scorching your feet as you realize you are staring transfixed at an Ambiguous Tenebrous Brown Hatchling. You feel the warmth of his approval as everything settles into place. << That's right, that's me! Chalith! >>

Name - Chalith:
Chalith, pronounced Cha-leeth, comes from the Romany word ‘rártigíllichal’ which means Nightingale. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
Chalith is quite the bundle of complications, as far as your life is going to go. He'll never be exactly easy to live with, and that's plain truth. Foremost, he is possessed of a passion for self-indulgence in every respect, and he will go to great lengths to get something that has captured his fascination -- << The oil is just divine against my hide, D'vin, oil me again! >> A hedonist in every sense of the word, Chalith will go to any extent to ensure his own comfort and enjoyment- << Onsrath, hello. Would you mind taking our sweeps this morning, so that D'vin might oil my flanks, they do itch so, and I know I wouldn't do a very good job. You, on the other hand.. >>

Chalith's not always wise when it comes to these lengths, likely to do things like getting into Telinda's full-blooded racing runners once he's got it into his head that they'd be tastier than the bovines he usually gets to eat. You, thank goodness, will usually be able to convince him that it's not exactly a good idea. Similarly, he might use you, trying to talk you into getting up in the middle of the night to get Lisanth's fancy riding straps for him. << They'd look better on me. She quite simply does not appreciate them, and it's not fair. >> When caught, he's rarely repentant, since he really believes he deserves everything he wants -- it takes a strong personality to get him to listen and truly apologise, if only for doing something everyone else thinks was wrong.

Chalith rather dislikes the very idea of having to concentrate, or work hard at something. He's quite sure that he knows everything, can do everything, and that training is really just for all the others. << I know that already. Why should I listen again, D'vin? Ceruth and his rider area always repeating themselves -- I figured it out the first time. >> It may take some work, but you'll usually get him there, although whether or not he'll pay any attention at all (beyond when his wingleader or weyrlingmaster manages to blast him -- the effect of that will last for about five minutes, max) is another question altogether. It bores him, plain truth. Why should he do what the others do?

Cocky and self-assured, he at least has good reason to be so. Even though he doesn't appear to listen to lectures, or put his whole self into drills, when it comes to real Fall, he's focused, precise and skilled. He'll start out among the best of his peers, and he'll remain there. In that way, he and Teharyth will be similar, and this will likely lead to competition between them -- << How dare he consider himself better at this than me! >> If you can just convince him to put his whole self into practice, he might well excel and surpass all of his clutchmates. That, however, would be quite the accomplishment, because he just doesn't seem to think that last little bit of success is worth all the work it would take to achieve. He is content to be almost the best, since that does make him better than most, after all.

This all changes when it comes to females. Green, gold, it doesn't matter to him, really. Whatever dragon is in front of him at the moment is the one he worships (and if there are two, well, he's got enough love to go around). Even before he even thinks of chasing, he still plays the gallant, recognizing a difference between the female and males colours, even if he doesn't really understand more than that. Once he is old enough to regard them that way, he'll be a shameless flirt, attempting to charm every single one, receptive or not, already enamoured of another or not. He'll only admit defeat when the female is entwined in the mating embrace of another, and even then, he'll do so with poor grace. << Lousy, stupid, silly green. >> He'll say, shunning both green and her mate until his thoughts turn away -- which is likely enough not so very long away. In truth, he's not one to dwell, and he'll soon cheer up at the prospect of all the other females who adore him. It would be quite unusual for him to ever develop a strong attachment to any other dragon, since his affections flit so easily from one to another.

You will be, without doubt, the centre of his world above any other force. As sure as he will chase the females, he will return to you for solace and encouragement, no matter your own needs in life. You are the source of all things comfortable to him; oiling, bathing, new straps, true love. << Never forget that you're mine, D'vin, >> comes his certain tone, << Always mine. >>

Voice:
Chalith is never one to make a harsh sound, vocal as he is. He makes a full range of sounds, from high, delicate warbles to low, basso rumbles. However, most commonly they come out in the lower mid range with great warmth and depth of tone. Likewise, his mental voice is a rich, powerful baritone the type of voice one could get lost in. The mellifluous notes resonate with polished sheen, constantly alive and the giver of the physical sensations that he adores. He loves to comment on everything you do, so his voice is an almost ever-present part of your thoughts.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart lived from 1756 to 1791. His best known opera, Don Giovanni, premiered October 19, 1787, in Prague. This opera is often called the Opera of Operas and some believe it to be the best opera ever composed. It tells the story of a young knight, Don Giovanni, who has seduced many women, but whose sins are starting to catch up with him. Planning to seduce one woman, Donna Anna, he ends up killing her father, the Commendatore, and having to flee with his servant, only to run into a former conquest, Donna Elvira, on the road at night. Then the former conquest disrupts his plans to seduce a young peasant woman. He then meets up with Donna Anna and her entourage who are looking for her father's killer. They first ask Don Giovanni to help them find the murderer, but then Donna Anna recognizes Don Giovanni's voice and he flees again. He escapes into a graveyard, where the Commendatore has been laid to rest. The statue over the grave speaks to him, and Don Giovanni, unafraid, invites the statue to dinner. When the statue comes, it takes hold of Don Giovanni and asks him to repent. He continues to refuse and the flames of Hell rise and swallow him. During the 19th century, the opera ended at this point, but today, and in the original, the opera ends when the other characters come on stage to rejoice at the death of Don Giovanni and tell the moral of the story.

Incandescent Claret Hessonite Ring:
Silver has been carefully worked into the shape of a dragon. A pair of bright sapphires have been placed in to represent his eyes, their facets resplendent in detail, the jewel-smith attempting the greatest accuracy. His wings outstretched and his tail lashing out behind him. Ridges and wingspars are all detailed in miniature brilliance. The dragon is coiled in such a way so as to wrap about a finger. He looks like he has taken a prize. Clutched between his fangs is a gem of magnificent quality, similar to the colour of that effervescent wine the vintners create, but deeper in hue. The hessonite is cut into an ovoid shape, faceted so the light reflects within, making it sparkle with a life of its own.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

Blank Slate Egg:
It appears unfinished, as if someone was going to mark this dark canvas but never returned to start the job. With a dark, smooth surface, the egg's presence is subdued, anonymous, blank. If one got closer, it might be possible to even see an almost reflective nature to this egg's outside, and a slight bluish tint. But even that seems to be a trick of the light, an imagined colouration projected by a mind distracted by the atmosphere and heat of the sands.

Impending Calamity Egg :
Haphazard designs pattern this shell, a promise of disasters waiting in the wings of a stage covered with yellow, the colour reminiscent of straw. Hay blends into pale woody brown, and then is shaped into blocky black, resembling a baby's cot. However, the nebulous pink contours that might represent the baby are splashed and strewn upon the floor. In the background, two small figures, outlined in jet black, seem to be squabbling and fighting. A thin sliver of ebony melds into the dark shade of brown if not for the red that seems to highlight the head area, crowned at the apex by a golden star.

Egg Inspiration - Nativity Plays:
"This egg is based on nativity plays where no matter how much the teacher carefully planned it, it always went wrong. The part with the babies cot comes from personal experience when we decided to use a five-year old as Mary who decided Jesus didn't want to be in the crib, oh no, and she continually threw him out of it." -- Tiri.

Hatching Message:
A series of wracking tremors stress the Blank Slate Egg, sending a network of cracks down its surface, hardly visible through the sticky, ashy mess that coats it. The hatchling inside is not to be thwarted, however, and soon struggles free, one limb at a time. At first it is hard to distinguish dragonet from egg, for they are both the same dark, ashen colour, but the hatchling gives a final shake and its shards fall free, leaving only the newly hatched to survey the sands.

Swirling Cape Hatchling:
Calcareous tones exemplify ephemeral striations -- darkness enrapturing ashen form as recalcitrant morphescent posse levels against dull mien. Wafting form puffs against a breeze: swirling cape blowing lengthened curls of grayscale as of an aureole of dusk. Wafting movements carry it across the ash-swirled sands -- a hint of talon glinting beneath the thickened air, as mesmerizing as a flick of tail -- dusty clouds trailing off as movement unrests it from becloaked form, nature proving improbable to undress, as if a prudish woman.

Impression Message:
The dense air shrouds with opaque intensity the Swirling Cape Hatchling no longer -- a drenching rain acting as if a waterfall about a hidden secret, clearing the air, and freeing a hidden form from dissolute ash. Bowed down with dripping water, the ash clears in muddy strains, leaving within its wake a dark bronze hatchling, naked under the clearing of his dusky hide. Sedately removing him from ash-cloaked oppression, the bronze attests his true nature to Jachin's eyes -- his own whirling blue in the single moment of a bond finally made.

Umbrageous Opulence Bronze Hatchling:
The setting sun lights, as if allowing for a fatal glimpse at truth, the remains of an ancient empire, allowing darkness to settle dulled shadows upon murky twilight as it engulfs the one time glory of ruddy bronze hide, vanishing beneath future's cape. Striations of gold set pace upon flanks, as if mountains of gold forever lost beneath the wash of darkness that catalogues denizens of bronze -- raptured in the shadowed wake of vanished pride decadent in wine-rich hues upon sculptured maw, reminiscent of times past that cannot live again. Incandescence resonates within melancholy carnelian follicles -- as if a flawless statue bathed in greatness, lost in dissonance -- to ramble glamour of a desert oasis lost to the sands of time upon belly's rounded curves. Sunset's shadows mould cinnabar hues upon wingsails -- edges caught as if within the brilliant gaze of a new sun, whilst topazite hues elongate fiery talons banishing insidious darkness to hold mournful shadows beneath the rising glory of an aureate dawn.

Hatchling Inspiration - Giulio Cesare:
George Frideric Handel (1685-1759) was a German-born composer, who worked primarily in England, and is considered one of the most important masters of the baroque period (from about 1600 to 1750). One of the greatest composers of the early 18th century, his most important works were his operas and oratorios, composed for the theater. The most famous of these is Messiah, which was first performed in 1742. Handel also made important contributions to instrumental music. His 'Giulio Cesare', or 'Julius Caesar in Egypt' is considered to be one of the composer's greatest works. It was first performed in the King's Theatre, London, on the 20 February 1724. 'Giulio Cesare' tells the story of Caesar's arrival in Egypt after the death of his enemy/ally, Pompey, and his subsequent romance with Cleopatra, and the plot of Tolomeo (Ptolemy) against him.

Impression Message:
Through an ashen eclipse, a sudden comfort of warmth comes -- solidifying the debris-filled air to a point of light that deepens all forms of contact -- hands, feet, touch of another, all dissipating into something more, something entirely different. A hint of brilliance sparks from the corner of your eye, gone again within a moment of sight, as from within a solid touch makes reality within the ruins of a former glory -- former life, against this new dawn. His touch brightens against yours -- rich tone sending shivers up your spine, a definitive note to his voice, << You're J'cin, I'm Teharyth. >> Dawning brilliance manifests within this touch, the world taking on new light under his gaze -- whirling orbs appearing through the doom as if a beacon through the sunset of your former life. << Come. There is no need to stay here. There is no need to fuss. Teharyth's rider must be above that. >>

Name - Teharyth:
Teharyth, pronounced Tey-ah-rith, comes from the Romany word 'Tehara' which means young girl. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
From your first moments together, it will be difficult to define Teharyth to a singular category, pinpointing who he is. Fiercely intelligent, this much is obvious, but seemingly caught upon the verge between genius and, if not madness, then definitely obsession, at least at times. In truth, there is perhaps little difference between them, blended as they are into Teharyth's nature. On one hand, he holds a certainty of himself in all that he is: he knows that he is intelligent, he knows that he is quick, able, worthy of greatness, seemingly possessed by an ego of monstrous size. On the other hand, his simple acceptance of this seems to be, if not humility, certainly a belief with merit to it -- << This is how I am, should I not live as what I was made to be? Should I deny what I am? >> What's more, he's quite correct: his boasting contains only truth.

Teharyth will never be universally liked: his ego, perceived by others or not, will deflect plenty from his side, detracting from the good that comes from his nature. On the other hand, many will become his staunch allies, speaking up for his ideas when there is motion against him. Just to ensure that life never stays simple, even these allies will change from time to time -- if they detract from his thought, Teharyth wants nothing to do with them, although he'll always respect their good points. His quest is a simple one, as far as he is concerned, and rightful in all ways: he was hatched with great worth within him, and this must be recognised. That is his aim in life above all things; he believes that each person, dragon or human, has an innate worth, and that they must show their own to the rest of the world. Of course, with this comes his own self-worth, which is, in his own estimation, considerably higher than many around him. He cannot, through one of his major blind spots, see worth in most of those he perceives to be 'enemies' -- arguments will place others in enemy position, regardless of reality.

Upon first glimpse at Teharyth, he is reasonable in all ways. A gentleman of class, he maintains a high standard upon himself and those around him: if you aren't tidy to begin with, you will become so with him. If you aren't careful in thought, reflective in nature, he'll do his best to make you so. His mind is crystal-clear at all times, and from that comes a rational distaste for wine and other alcoholic products. << If your head spins, J'cin, how can you think properly? You must be constantly alert. Constantly. >> Furthermore, he is a dragon of precision, perfecting every statement of his until it is entirely free of possible flaws. He has a sense of politics that is uniquely outstanding, but should he ever gain physical leadership he will excel just as much, putting himself upon the level of his subordinates, to woo them to his cause. Nonetheless, leadership is not his aim in life, and certainly, Weyrleadership is not. << I have no desire to take control, I only wish to ensure that I am recognised for what I have done of my own accord. >> he insists, open in his desires in life.

His major flaws manifest themselves in two forms. The first of these is his temper, and while it is a rare occasion that he loses control of himself, this temper is one to be feared. Even you will hear little of his inner conflict and disgust except in measured, correct tones, but upon the occasion when he can hold it in no longer, there will be no dragons whatsoever in the area that will be unaware of the tempest. Furthermore, when he has sated his outburst, and usually argued a convincing side with his quicksilver tongue, he'll never be so forthcoming as to offer apology, not to you, nor to any other. << I cannot but justify my actions; I was correct, and she was not. >> He'll point out, in his usual, stoic manner, unable to comprehend that perhaps it was his wrong, not hers. Unnecessary brutality incenses him more than anything, and physical violence will always be his enemy whatever the cause. Even when feeding, he will do so with precision, avoiding decapitation, and mutilation, for there is no justifiable cause for that.

The second of his major flaws comes in the domain of something that occupies much of his conquest time: women. While Teharyth will always hold his dam, Tiarnath, in awe, he has a general failing in viewing greens and golds alike as more tools than objects of real desire, no matter how silly it sounds. He understands that golds hold power, and that greens are worth leadership in cases, but his honest view is that men are naturally built for power and influence, and women are not. By chasing, and perhaps catching, a female, he is inserting himself into the life of her and her rider, adding a sphere of influence, or attempting to, to his little domain. He does find pleasure within a female, but it's far less of a pleasure than good company with those he can call friends, which are few, or his thoughts, and you. Unfortunately, he's still male beneath the cool exterior, and every so often a random female will catch his glance, and he'll be literally unable to control his desires, no matter how 'useless' she is in his campaign for his personal glory. Constantly, he will berate himself for this fault, but he'll never really train himself out of it.

Beneath his often seemingly cold exterior, Teharyth does have a heart, and he does have other interests. He'll always have a soft spot for children, especially his own should he have some, and yours, should you. His dam will always hold a certain place in his heart, and perhaps she alone will be able to show him reason when his inner reasons lead him astray. That does not, however, mean that he appreciates her exuberance. On the contrary, it infuriates him no end. << Tiarnath, >> he'll state, his skills of rhetoric paying off, << Teharyth's dam should be above that. >> And, after all, isn't that the truth: everyone around Teharyth should be above that. Perfection -- or as close to it, that is what Teharyth requires of those connected to him.

Voice:
A melodic alto, high for a bronze, Teharyth's voice holds the skills of the finest orator within its polished note, smooth and convincing in a sleek climax. He tends to prefer careful rumbles to any other physical sound, the timbre allowing for a finesse of vocalisation that matches the honeyed polish that draws his crystal messages within one's mind. His anger comes in an overflowing of skilled rhetoric, mindvoice tinted with blood reds as a startling contrast to his usual control. While wooing a female, on the other hand, he will address her in a rhapsody of silken touch, winding through her thoughts with engendered liquidity-as if made of drizzled oil.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
Taking place between September 48 and March 47 BC, Giulio Cesare tells the story of Julius Caesar in Egypt after defeating Pompey (Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus) at Pharsalus. Intending to follow Pompey to Egypt, Caesar is instead gifted, by Tolomeo, who has seized control of Egypt, with the head of his former ally and enemy. While Tolomeo and his court plot against Caesar for his disgust at their gift, Cleopatra, Tolomeo's wife and sister, makes plans to seduce Caesar, who has already fallen in love with her, although he has only seen her in disguise, as Lydia, her own servant. Feigning sleep, Cleopatra overhears Caesar declare his love for her, and 'awakens' to accept it, explaining who she really is, and insisting that he flee. He does, jumping over the walls of the palace into the water, and giving the impression that he is dead, while she raises an army against her brother, to revenge her lover, who defeats them and takes her captive. Caesar, unable to live without his love, goes after her, rescuing her, and having Tolomeo killed in the process. Caesar is given rule of Egypt, but turns it over to Cleopatra, making her Queen of Egypt once more.

Smoldering Caldera Ruby Ring:
Dark gold burnished to a deep color of burning embers, curls around the surface of this ring, a masterwork in itself. On the right side of the ring carefully etched into it is the symbol of Southern Weyr, on the left side is a delicate silhouette of the volcano that overlooks Southern Weyr. Over the volcano, with wings spread out to their fullest revealing the massive sails as they shelter the stones, is a dragon. His head is tossed back with his maw open to roar at whatever comes at him. Held fast in the ring is a ruby so dark as to resemble a drop of blood. It is a large stone, perhaps the size of a man's thumbnail, carefully cut so the facets pull light into the center holding what looks to be a fire in its depths.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

Hide in Plain View Egg:
It's the shape of an egg, the perfect size as well. A clearly delineated ovoid rests on the sands, perfectly still. Only on closer inspection does that prove perhaps wrong. It's the sweep and curve of the sands that suggests an egg, not the actual presence of one of course.

Loved Beyond Belief Egg:
Silken smoothness coats this ovoid in sunlit dappling, shifting hues from tawny to deep mahogany depending on the angle from which it is viewed. Ciliated softness is brushed with ocher and fawn, touched here and there with the richness of cocoa. A band of luminous pink wraps around the narrow end of the egg, its satin-smooth finish gleaming with a soft luster reminiscent of a shell washed up on the beach. Here and there, the egg is a pale tan in colour, as if the luxurious pile had been worn off due to a great deal of love having been bestowed upon its rounded form.

Egg Inspiration - Children's Book:
"One of the most loved children's stories of the modern era is The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. It's the story of a worn stuffed rabbit, loved to the point of falling apart. When eventually he is cast aside as the child grows up, the immense amount of love he received causes him to become a real rabbit." -- Jalynia.

Hatching Message:
Hide in Plain View Egg shudders with regular jolts, working its way deeper and deeper into the sand, as if trying to bury itself to escape the turmoil of the hatching. The encapsulated dragonet's battering blows take their toll over time, however, and soon chunks of ash and shell fall away under the punishment. A tentative nose pokes out, coated with ash before it even has a chance to truly taste the air, and the rest of the young body snakes out of its shell, to begin its search among the ashen sands.

Whiter Shade of Pale Hatchling:
At first its face is just ghostly, perhaps a product of the swirling ash, a shimmer at once immediate and distant. But as this hatchling steps into view it becomes corporeal only by a small degree. While other objects on the sands may take on deep, darker tones, though, this hatchling stands uneasily and steps into the light -- its features taking on a whiter shade of pale. Its tail twitches, dancing behind the uncertain creature, but that isn't helping its balance as the hatchling begins to move. It sways to and fro, as if seasick, and so it goes.

Impression Message:
The goal to find the one Whiter Shade of Pale Hatchling is searching for, the one amongst all these white-robed humans who'll be its compliment, is deterred not once. Wings stretch backward, flicking away from its hide as if the feel of grimy ash were distasteful but it is in that moment that the hatchling's head suddenly swivels around -- there he is! The candidate desired, the one dreamed about, hoped for! As the hatchling waddles it's fastest toward the young man, bits and pieces of cloying ash are washed away to reveal the brightness of a burning torch's light in his bronze hide. Contact is made as he looks up into Kelli's face.

Flickering Torchlit Bronze Hatchling:
Imagine a torch made of bound wood, pine withies covered in sticky pitch -- fire burns atop this burning brand, the light flickering with a warm and substantial heat. Bronze flanks are a reflection of that illumination, shining like a glowing, amber radiance cast against the smooth surface of finely cut stone and as the brightness fluctuates, be it by wind or breath, shadows play in the hollows previously left hidden. Ruddy copper dances with ancient bronze darkness, a fiery luminescence accenting neckridges, before twining, like wisps of insubstantial smoke, with the charred coal of his tail. Resplendent around his throat lies a glistening torque of scarlet-veined aureate flames, the blaze dancing irregularly over his broad chest, while wings, reminiscent of the most translucent of sisal cloths, are dyed a startling combination of crimson and burgundy, threaded through with ethereal elements of gleaming gold, a fragile and exquisite costume cloak.

Hatchling Inspiration - The Magic Flute:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) was probably the greatest genius in Western musical history. Mozart was born in Salzburg, Austria, Jan. 27, 1756, the son of Leopold Mozart and his wife, Anna Maria Pertl. The Magic Flute (or Die Zauberflote) was written in the last year of his life: 1791 and was his last opera ever composed. The Magic Flute was first performed at the Theater aud Der Wieden, Vienna, September 30, 1791. The hatchling's description is based upon a scene in the opera where they perform an initiation ritual and pray to Isis and Osiris, fires are lit, incense burns and everything becomes dark and primeval in appearance. Working from an image, one of the characters has a cloth collar around his throat with roaring flames embroidered on it which is where Venalth's own torque came from.

Impression Message:
The heat of these sands appear to have no relief until, just on the edge of your hearing, you sense a soft lilt of song just brushing at your awareness. At first it seems to be nothing, the sensation escaping whenever you try to focus your thoughts upon it -- perhaps the heat has you hearing things? Suddenly, your entire being is impacted with the force of another's -- his. The distinct masculine presence that abruptly fills your awareness is full of warmth and a feeling of overwhelming completeness. This being and yourself are one whole together. Love, sadness, anger, and joy -- all these things will forever be shared with another -- this dragon. It takes only moments for the realization to occur and you and the dragon separate into yourselves. You know his name: this bronze dragon is Venalth - that was one of the things you sensed. He finally bespeaks you, his voice like the soft lilt of a flute intermingled with chimes << K'lli, we are together at last! >> His hunger comes to the fore gnawing at *your* stomach. << I need something for that. >> He speaks into your mind.

Name - Venalth:
Venalth, pronounced Ven-al-th, comes from the Romany word 'Baba' is a term of respect for old woman, 'Ravena' is a common Romani name, and hence Venalth comes from 'Baba Ravena'. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
Venalth is definitely an interesting dragon to be sure. Oh, for the first few days, it won't seem like he's got much personality of course: Eat, Sleep, Oil and Snuggle will be the cycle of his days as he deepens his bond with you and sleeps off all that exhaustion from hatching -- that takes a lot of work! However, as you and he slowly become more familiar with one another, and Venalth's world expands from You to Barracks and other siblings and Weyrlingmaster, to World outside Barracks, you'll watch a personality like no other begin to emerge.

At first, poor Venalth will be something of a clumsy oaf. He'll get himself into all kinds of scrapes by falling down (usually because he tripped over his wings or tail). He'll also tend to knock things he shouldn't over -- the oil barrel's contents spilled all over the floor and Weyrlings and dragons alike sliding about the floor are definite possibilities with this one. However, he'll attempt to look for the silver lining in the stormy cloud in these situations. << Well, look here K'lli! It can be a lot of fun to go slipping around in this oil! Watch me! Wheeee! >> And there he'll go, making a running leap to slide through the oil and right into N'all's legs -- poor you! Guess who gets to deal with all of this and suffer the Evil Eye of the Weyrlingmaster's chastisement. Hopefully he'll grow out of this, right?

Right away you'll notice another thing about your Venalth, and that is this: he has a few insecurities. They're strange insecurities to boot. For instance: For some inexplicable reason, your dragon has a dreadful fear of the dark -- who knew!? Your dragon will always crave the subtle and soft light of glows to absolute darkness -- and if ever confronted with the depths of night, he'll start to shiver with chills of worry and fear. Don't ask us why he gets this way -- he's your dragon after all and he'll always need that comfort zone of the glows to light his weyr even unto old age. This will be the worst of his insecurities, and one he'll never really grow out of, though he might, its possible of course! Other than that, when he's young he'll have doubts about himself, doubts you'll need to reassure him about. << Oh K'lli, I'll never fly as well as Lorsath! Look at the way he curlicues up there in the air! I'll never do that. Its so, fascinating the way he can turn on the wing like that. >> This is merely an example of some of his doubts -- they'll emerge into myriad parts of his life though as he attempts a feat and masters it, those doubts along with your support will slowly wash away and he'll become a stronger dragon for surmounting the challenges that life brings -- with your love and care that is.

Your dragon will develop into something of a romantic. No, he won't be poetic or flowery or sappy or anything of that nature (Yuck!) but his concern and appreciation of those around him and the life imbued within every thing, the beauty of all around him will affect him profoundly and it will show in everything he does, the courtesy he applies to his actions: he'll be like the best of Lord Holders, the most elegant of Weyrleaders, the most knowledgeable of Craftmasters: a Gallant dragon, polite and noble in all respects. He'll go out of his way to help another dragon or pay them extra attention if they seem to need it. He is affectionate with all dragons and humans too - it is difficult for him to dislike anyone or anything -- for are they not all part of one magnificent whole? He'll enjoy his friendships with green, blue, brown and bronze dragons alike and count it significant honor if a gold should deign to be friendly to him. If he ever sires a clutch with a gold, you can bet he'll be there every day with her on those sands, guarding the eggs just as fiercely as does she, giving her time away from the clutch to quench her thirst and bringing her a herdbeast or two whenever she feels the slightest bit hungry. This behavior doesn't necessarily mean that he'll overly flatter a dragon's tail or wings -- green or gold, he's a lot more subtle than that, showing in gestures, by thought and by deed his interest in one of these delectable females.

As your dragon gets older and gains in confidence and strength and surmounts the challenges of life that would dare to hold him back, he becomes one of the best of dragons -- not the best of course, he isn't an overachiever, but one of the best. He'll perform all of his duties with eagerness and wiliness, he'll do his best at flying -- he's fast, but not the fastest, he's agile, but not the most limber (Being bronze he's too big to do some of the things he'd like to do, but he'll realize that with strength, stamina and quickness, there always has to be a part that suffers to balance it all out). He's quick on his feet and fairly witty and clever -- often talking a bit too much -- often something that is meant to be funny since he's got a bit of a humorous streak -- laughter is a balm for the soul after all! He'll perform very well in Fall, and it may be a while before either of you gain any kind of score -- though you will eventually, everyone does! However, when it does happen that first time, it'll be a doozy, and both you and dragon will wind up with a very intriguing scar to talk about on nights in the far future.

Contrary to the fact he seems to have a penchant for talking, he's also a thinker of deep thoughts. Knowledge and wisdom are things he craves and he greatly admires such dragons as Rnayth for his age and experience. Though he does talk a lot, he will also have many periods of long silences in which his mind will peruse things he's learned or go over things he ponders to calculate their meanings -- unfortunately for him, being a dragon his memory tends to be a bit short on some things, luckily though he happily tells you of all his ponderings and surmises -- and you can store the information for him and remind him he'd already come to some conclusion on that issue, and what it was: after all he trusts you implicitly.

He will also be a loyal and steadfast dragon. Completely absorbed in the green or gold of the moment, attention undeviating, especially if he happens to catch one or the other -- this absorption will last a few more days beyond normal. He'll be reluctant to leave behind a green at another weyr, making you have to drag him by the virtual ear and remind him of his other duties which consumes far more of his loyalty -- then he'll come more willingly. You'll definitely know which of his buttons to push: stronger than his loyalty to the lady dragon in his life of the moment is the loyalty to the Senior Queen and the Weyr and his duty to all of Pern.

Voice:
Venalth's mental voice is like a soft breath of air; gentle and sweet like the lowest register notes as if with the intonation of a flute. His voice, like the air tends to whirl in every direction, winding itself around the minds of others, breezing through them like a cool wash of wind. His voice always stays within the deeper melodious notes that the flute can play. Intermingled with these mellifluous tones are the soft and subtle jingling of chimes. Higher notes that dangle through the breeze, always in the background, an ever present metallic and pure ringing that seems to vary in rhythm with his moods.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
The story of the Magic Flute is a beautiful one, and revolves around two sets of lovers. Tamino loves Pamina. Papageno loves Papagena. The course of true love, however, does not run smoothly. The evil servant Monostatos, High Priest Sarastro and the Queen of the Night all plot to make life difficult. With the help of a magic flute and magic chimes Tamino and Papageno defeat the enemy, Tamino and Pamina survive ordeals by fire and water and the two pairs of lovers are united to live happily ever after.

Luminescent Skies Opal Ring:
Ruddied gold burnished to a gleaming colour of flickering flames, the surface of this ring is a masterwork in itself. On the right side of the ring carefully etched into it is the symbol of Southern Weyr; on the left side is a delicate silhouette of the actual weyr carved in miniature relief. Just above the weyr are the moons rising, one in a waxing crescent the other full and low. Held fast in the ring is an opal that is practically black its ovoid shape carefully polished and smoothed. Within the void of the darkness that is the opal are flecks of color in various tones: some wine dark, there are those that are flecks of blue resembling the hearts of flame, and others deeply golden caught in the depths of the gem.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

[ Top ]

Whiteout Egg:
Something moved over there. But when you look further, there's something white and -- shiny! A stray beam of light from a glow (or something!) must have hit its surface and reflected, because suddenly it's impossible to see in that direction. A virtual blind spot, right there, among the other eggs and shards. Was it an egg? How will you ever know?

Fire's Heart Egg:
Incandescent illusion of golden flames flicker, engulfing this fragile shell with aureate hues as conflagration brightly burns to silent melodies. Tendrils of marigold rise, invasive filaments dancing in egregious consummation, flaring upwards as sap explodes in apocryphal fire. Kindled heart radiates ardent crimson, devouring ebon wood in glowing embers, leaving behind an indecipherable haze of blackened cinders. Phosphorescent sparks are liberated, golden brown marshmallow deliquescing as vibrant blaze enflames, ostracising darkness like an unwelcome visitor.

Egg Inspiration:
When they were young, fires played a big part of Telinda and Aithne's childhood. For Telinda, it ranged from Guy Faulkes Night, or Bonfire Night, a celebration of the redemption of the Houses of Parliament during James I reign from gunpowder, to Girl Guides, where they sat around the Camp fire making their dinner, heating up marshmallows and singing songs. For Aithne, that ranged from driftwood fires on the beach to Campfire Girl camp, where evenings were spent around the fire, singing songs and making 'smores. Both of them still enjoy having a fire outside, especially on a cold night.

Hatching Message:
Whiteout Egg gives a shudder, then falls still. Perfectly, ominously still, and showing no signs of ever moving again. Just as suddenly, it seems to change its mind, shattering into thousands of tiny fragments, scattering every which way in a flurry of ash and shards. In its wake is left the huddled form of a hatchling, frozen on the spot at the violence of its own hatching.

Ashen Ocean Hatchling:
Achromatism forms ephemeral whirlwind: etiolated mass heaving and pulling as if some tremulous wave sweeping across brazen landscape of choking ash. A flash of talon acts as if a bobbing object under the forceful influence of a watery grave -- here, then there, then swept away from view entirely -- thickened air providing an odd grace to a fearsome roll and heave of ashen form. Candescence devours light, proving impervious to lighthouse beams of lantern glows.

Impression Message:
Rain mists, congealing cloying ash, the gelatinous volcanic tribute slowly washing away from the Ashen Ocean Hatchling, revealing tantalizing shimmers of hide that glows subtly beneath. As water trickles over hide, rivulets of gray are replaced with rivers of gold, as though a nugget had just been removed from a muddy mountain river. The person in front of her is considered once more, and then a sound of approval is made, as head lifts up, eyes capturing Jalynia's for the first time.

Fiery River Gold Hatchling:
Dawn's first rays slant, illuminating sylvan glade, ostracizing diaphanous mists that leave ethereal filaments clinging to nebulous trees -- motes of dust sprinkling sparkles of sunlight that dapple golden hide. Antediluvian gold glitters over flanks, flowing like an aureate river across shoulders and haunches, hints of turquoise swirled amid the flaxen tones as though rich golden ore tumbled amid a mountain stream. Rings forge the elegant lines of her neckridges, forswearing the archaic gold of her flanks, interlinking to casemate the tips as they curl down to her tail, circled in burnished metallic tints. Rosy pinks mingle with prismatic indigos limning the curve of her belly, rainbow hues arcing across the gilding like a bridge of colour, before rooting themselves in the earthen shades of her malevolent talons. Flames dance along pinions, immolating wings in a roaring conflagration of molten fire, leading edges ignited with omnipotent crimson, trailing edges reborn in gilt.

Hatchling Inspiration - The Ring of the Nibelungen:
Richard Wilhelm Wagner (1813-1883) was a German composer, conductor, and essayist, and one of the most influential cultural figures of the 19th century. Through his creative work and his theoretical writings, Wagner revolutionized the concept and structure of opera. He studied music at Leipzig University and was appointed to various directorships during his career. For most of his life he was plagued by debts, and his involvement in revolutionary activities brought him further problems with the authorities. Between 1849 and 1871 Wagner completed his massive four-opera cycle Der Ring Des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) on which this hatchling is based, comprising DAs Rheingold (1854), Die Walküre (1856), Siegfried (1871), and Götterdämmerung (The Twilight of the Gods, 1874). Joleath contains many of the themes from the opera, including the Rheingold, Valhalla and Brünnhilde's immolation.

Impression Message:
The heat of the sands suddenly increases, and the ground beneath your feet seems to burn like fire for a split second. Strangely, this sensation does not hurt at all -- it's more like comfortable warmth than any sort of pain. Just as quickly, the temperature drops, and you feel a gentle breeze wrap itself around your consciousness. With the watery grace of a leisurely stream, this new awareness binds itself to you, filling your soul with a sense of joy and entirety. From out of the depths of this euphoric pool comes a voice, clear and articulate, resounding like a triumphant bell in your mind. << Jalynia! It's me, Joleath, and I've found you! >> You can plainly feel the emptiness that assaults her stomach as she continues -- her rich voice now trilling with urgency. << I'm hungry, and I must be fed immediately! >>

Name - Joleath:
Joleath, pronounced Jo-lee-th, comes from the Romany word 'jel'sutho'edrin' which means Companion Animals. Romani belongs to the family of Indo-European languages. It is spoken on all five continents by gypsies though it has never received legal recognition. Evidence suggests that Romany separated from North Indian language in about AD 1000. The language itself is derived from Sanskrit though its vocabulary reflects the wandering nature with its sources from Iranian, Romanian, Armenian, Greek, Hungarian, Slavic, Hindi and more.

Personality:
Contrast. Simply put that is your Joleath. Like Fire and Water there is a disparity between you, which is hard to fathom until you realize that ultimately you are always balanced as a complete being. She is your yin, you are her yang. Two opposites forming the whole. Never apart, never alone, never again truly separate. When you are sad, she's happy, when she's angry, you're reasonable. At first this flip-flopping between emotions will drive you crazy, but eventually you'll both learn to handle it, learning to soothe each other when needed. Occasionally you may co-exist without these dissimilarities, but these are rare and far between. Often the situation has to be for someone else's benefit and not your own.

If these situations were stable you could probably learn to deal with them much quicker than you do. However, her emotions often change at a flick of a tail. One minute she's as sugary as sweetener, then next as acid as vinegar. << Oh yes, that's a lovely dress, Jalynia, it suits you so well. But, ick, look at your hair? Jays, what did you do to it? It's simply awful! Cut it all off! >> She doesn't meant to be this way, and if you question about it, she'll just ask for examples, and then say, << I was only telling the truth. >> And be quite mortified that you think differently.

When there's an argument and you're in the midst of it, don't expect her to side with you. She will on the rare occasion, but not always. << No, sorry, Jalynia, I don't agree with you. I think Teharyth is right. >> She'll worry she's upsetting you, but won't back down. Even over the silliest of things you'll find her stubborn nature will always win out against your mind. The only ones that can talk wisdom to her, are the older golds, with Tiarnath being a special consideration - one word from this gold will have << Yes, Tiarnath >> straight from her mind without a second thought. Even if it's << Come play in the mud, Chalith! >>

Joleath is never totally reasonable, which may be of some concern for you, but golds are never the easiest dragons to bond with and she's certainly not an exception to the rule. She loves rainbows. << Oh, they're so pretty, see, I can see so many colours. I think I'll name each one for a dragon - Rnayth, Onsrath, Ysabeth, Gineth, Belith, Iesath, Vercath >> She'll wax on to almost the point of stupidity, insisting everyone come take a look. And then there's her fascinated with water, surely inherited from her dam << Oh look, a puddle! A lake. Oh shards! That's an ocean? It never ever ever ends! >> Whenever she sees water you'd better hope those straps come off, because quick as she can, she'll be in there, frolicking around to her endless delight, and will refuse to come out even when you're more wrinkled than a prune. These interludes will bring you pure delight to your bonding, something of a rarity.

Joleath is never totally comfortable with fire. She's wary of it to the point of the extreme, and yet neither of you will ever be able to pinpoint the concern. << Jalynia, can't you eat you meat raw? Like I do? It's totally unreasonable to surround it with fire like that. No, don't do it! >> Thankfully, you're in Southern, so fires, others than those used to cook with, are rare, though expect her to avoid barbeques or cookouts on the beach. She just will not go there, no matter how much you try to reason with her. When you begin to learn to use a flamethrower, it may be wise to do so while she sleeps. Otherwise, your self-confidence may take a beating, she will be convinced that you will set *something* vital on fire. In another one of her mercurial changes of moods, her opinion will change once that flamethrower is used against Thread. There she will encourage you char that thread. << I want to see the ash fall! >>

Similarly, she is attracted, for no reason she can put a finger on, to Suriath. She will follow him around, ask him questions, beg him to accompany her places. Suriath may choose to answer, he may not, but Joleath will ask nonetheless. Not so much an infatuation as a fascination, Joleath's interest in Suriath will result in seemingly endless recounting to you of everything that he's said and done, over and over again while she can still remember it. Of course, actually spending time with him is by far the better, but when that fails, you're the next best thing. << He said he'd come swimming with us later! Is it later yet, is it? He's such a gentleman. I'm going to be just like him, one day, >> she'll note, while still young.

Joleath is, not to place too much of a distinction on it, a Belira. She is clumsy. The oil pots will go flying, the couch will constantly be a mess. When you have your own home, never try growing anything, because they'll never grow too much before she accidentally sits on them, or digs them up. She'll have horrendous times during Weyrlinghood trying to learn how to fly. Sprained muscles may be on the agenda here, so be warned. Once in the air, she'll be a little better, but she'll never manage the feats Hannenth and Tiarnath manage << You expect me to *what* with those apples and crossbows?! >> She'll never manage to get you in the right place like Feilynth does for Belira. And she'll never be instinctive like Araneth. Instead it will be up to you to get her into position, making Threadfall absolutely exhausting for you.

Injuries scare her. Plain truth. She'll never be the calming influence the others are, but instead will just block their minds so that she doesn't need to listen to them << But is *hurts* so! >> To this extent you will probably be placed immediately amid the dragonhealer ranks, just so that she can be calmed somewhat, and so that you can explain to her why it's ok. Getting injured dragons to the ground will demand calm from you both. Her smaller size will make this difficult, and even though she totally panics about losing them, and all the other fears the other dragon might feel, she somehow has an innate ability to capture them and lead them home.

Joleath has a spring of wisdom, believe it or not, and it happens to be you, and your sex life. She will inform everyone of every minute detail, even if it's a bad detail, because well, you're perfect in it, just her knowledge is a little *off*. << Did you hear she was on top!? >> Yes, no detail is spared, unfortunately for you and the rest of the Weyr who eventually will just tune her out. This continues into her interest in breeding lines: yours << Oh Jalynia, you simply must mate with K'laarn because he has the most darling eyes, and you'll be a perfect match in a child. >>; Telinda's runners << Look at that one run! >> and the dragons of the Weyr << If Brielth is my sire, and he's also my Uncle and my nephew, what *do* I call him? >>

She'll want however, that you forswear all other love for her. Completely. That means she'll never approve, and make life miserable in many ways, if you take a weyrmate. You'll never get her to share her clearing with anyone, she'll never nuzzle up to them, she'll never approve of the rider. She is your other half, and that, as far as she's concerned, is enough for you both, despite what you think. << You like him?! He's got a pointy chin! >> Or, << He snores. >> Faults will always be found and voiced. The only time you may find her willing to share is if it's for the good of the Weyr, but that'll have to be some change. She is not as possessive of things as Araneth is, but your love is hers and hers alone. Your attention should be completely hers when she wishes it to be. Flirting will be allowed, having sex will be allowed, sharing will not. And, she'll push you to experience many riders, blue, green, brown or bronze, she's an equal opportunist. And through her, the Weyr will experience those riders. This is *important* information!

When it's finally time to rise, and she'll be more interested in your rising than her own, and so therefore may be late. She'll taunt the males, refusing the amorous advances of most of them, but excepting others. She'll avoid the Weyrleader's bronze << That's Tiarnath's >> her heroine's mate << I have all the others to choose from. >> The problem is, she will forget from literally one moment to the next who she actually likes, so in the end, she'll just refuse every single dragon. << Sorry? You're whom!? >>

There's an overwhelming sense of love - one of those rare moments when your emotions may match - when she's flown and then waiting for her eggs to clutch and then hatch. She'll positively dote on the sire, and will perhaps try to do the same with you and the rider of the dragon that flew her << But he's so *charming*! >> When those eggs arrive - pity the candidates! They are her hoard of treasure, and shardit, she'll protect them to the end. << Get away from my eggs! >> It will take Tiarnath's intervention quite likely to allow candidates near the eggs, and if she ever clutches a gold, well, no one needed to touch it right?

Voice:
Always the dramatist, that is your Joleath. Her voice is rich and full of colourful vocalizations just like a flute, the sheer range of which is astounding: soft, melodious warbles, high sonorous bugles and flexible sibilant croons. Large, that is Joleath's voice, clarion also truthfully describes it, each word and phrase clearly defined, and correctly pronounced, like a forest avian trilling its story to the world. Her voluminous soprano is echoed within both mental and physical voices, generous with inflections -- as soft as cotton, and yet as strong as steel -- and yet seemingly impregnable, never a slur or abbreviation used.

Personality/Voice Inspiration:
The story of 'Der Ring des Nibelungen' revolves around a curse: The Rheingold may be forged into a Ring which will allow its owner to rule the World, however, its possessor must forswear love forever and live in emotional desolation. Das Rheingold begins the story, telling of Alberich who steals the gold, and of Wotan, who pledges Freia, the goddess of youth and beauty, to the giants Fafner and Fasolt who are building Valhalla. As a compromise, when Wotan threatens to renege on his bargain, the giants note they will accept the Rheingold, including the ring for their services.
In Die Walküre, Siegmund, fathered by Wotan, discovers that Sieglinde is his twin sister. Yet, they join as man and wife. Wotan, knowing he must kill Siegmund for this incest, sends the Valkyrie Brünnhilde, in his place. Brünnhilde takes mercy on the two lovers. Wotan causes Siegmund's death by shattering his sword in battle and Brünnhilde is made mortal as punishment for betraying Wotan. He surrounds her with a wall of flame that can only be broken by a hero.
Siegfried, the son of Siegmund and Sieglinde, reforges Nothung, his father's shattered sword and kills the dragon guarding the ring. The ring becomes his, as does the curse. This young man of adventure discovers the fire containing the sleeping Brünnhilde. He awakens her to love.
Finally, in Götterdämmerung, answering the call to adventure, Siegfried plunges into a world of false friends, deceit, betrayal and death. A potion and deception by Hagen, Alberich's son, lead Siegfried to force Brünnhilde into marrying another man. Hagen ends Siegfried's ring-cursed life with a spear in the back. Siegfried's funeral pyre and Brünnhilde's immolation ignite the heavens and earth. The Gods' fate is sealed in the final conflagration and the world awaits its rebirth.
Joleath contains many themes that are touched upon within this Opera tetralogy, and her voice is based upon Jane Eaglen's, one of the finest voices to sing Brünnhilde.

Aureate Liberty Diamond Ring:
Gold the colour of the sun rising over the southern most mountains has been pounded and carefully worked to form a ring in the shape of a slender dragon. The muzzle and head of the dragon is tossed back in abandon as if enjoying the freedom in her flight, her tail coils to almost reach her maw. A tiny pearl has been placed carefully to be her almost luminescent eye. Her sinuous form winds her way carefully about the finger. There is such detail in her form: the subtle grain to her hide, the delicate wingspars that cradle her wingsails. Talons spring forward from their sheathes to reveal their wicked edge, grasping the ovoid shape of a carefully cut diamond. The gem echoes the colour of the ring by containing traces of auric light within its core, each facet of the diamond adding to the brilliant sparkle in its depths.

[ Eireann & Auribeth | Erin & Mariyth | Zoe & Ziareth | Jyanda & Kaisyth | Wiebke & Wynth ]
[ Z'rien & Onsrath | D'vin & Chalith | J'cin & Teharyth | K'lli & Venalth | Jalynia & Joleath ]

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Sound excepts courtesy of Amazon.com

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