Age: 34
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: [Insert Keyboard Smashing over Cute People]
Weyr: Western Weyr
Rider Rank: Wingrider
Previous Rank/Craft: Harper Apprentice
Physical Description: Amrit looks anything but a stereotypical bronzerider. His stature is smaller, on the shorter side of average. His body is strong, yet you wouldn’t know it by a first glance. Sporting a softer body type, it seems that he can manage his weigh vigorout but never quite shed his "dad-bod" type shape, despite rigorous exercise even before impressing to Chirakumath have ever eliminated. He’s quite strong, for he has to be -- yet his own resolve to be better than most take him at first glance has needled him to try to be better, constantly. He’s quite tan, a bronzen shade from all his work outside. His more defined chin with softer cheeks, thin eyebrows and not a single hair of beard growth to be seen. Deep matte black locks fall about to his ears, though he slicks it back against his head to stay out of soft, puppy-like green eyes help to cover his fine hairline. Large scars drag up his front, starting from by the belt line and ending somewhere by his collarbone from his youth--dragging marks from where he slid down the ging tree. Small, freckle-like scars line his body from the subsequent fall into the needlethorn bush after the slip from the tree.
Personality: From a young age, Amrit has always lived and breathed adventure. The adventurous spirit has left him always seeking the next big adventure--whether it’s climbing the cliff sides and trees in his youth, or on the back of his colossal Chirakumath. He grew out of the spunk and spitfire of his youth after his accident. It turned him into a softer boy, though with that desire to go see the world still firmly planted.
To a fault, Amrit is kind. With such a big reality check on the value of his life leaving him bare to the world, it set the boy down a path of a humbler nature. With such low self confidence from his injury and taunting of his peers, he became quite diffident into his adult years. Shyness bleeds into his tendency to stay away from people. Life at a Weyr certainly doesn’t make a good mode to stay away, but while he stays around to fulfill his wing duties and whatever else may be needed of him--just don’t expect him to be overly social outside of those social requirements. When he is around people, though, one would never assume he’d rather be anywhere else. He is kind to a fault, rolling into his gentle, humble nature. Yet the man inside is shaking, nervous for the company or coming off odd. Past bullying left Amrit extremely sensitive, for even the littlest tease might leave the rider drying his tears into Chirakumath’s broad chest.
Somewhere inside the tender, nervous rider blooms a romantic soul, however. While he is not the most conventional “manly man”, nor will he ever be in his own thinking (and Chirakumath’s protests), it doesn’t stop him from eagerly consuming romance novel after romance novel that feeds into the gentlest of dreams -- sweeping damsels off their feet, wooing gentlemen with the kindest words. Things he could never do, but dreams are sweet, aren’t they?
Positive Trait List Adventurous, Kind, Humble, Romantic
Negative Trait List Nervous, Diffident, Oversensitive, Reclusive
History: Amrit was born in the warm spring to a pair of loving parents in Ista Hold. He grew as any boy would; an adventurous spitfire, craving adventure. He grew up running around with a group of rather callous boys, always daring each other to wilder and wilder stunts. But one such day, Amrit had been dared to climb a ging tree while the needlethorn bushes were still fully needled. But he was young and stupid, and in the face of his friends--he couldn’t just back down. The youth climbed the tree, making it almost near the top before his footing slipped. His front skidded down the rough bark, tearing shirt and skin alike before he fell into the needlethorn bush below.
He wouldn’t be found until almost evening by a passerby, as his friends had left him for dead.
The local healer and surgeon did the best they could, but he would be forever scarred from the event. Full of holes and healing wounds, Amrit felt as if he’d been sucker punched by life. Perhaps he had, for it took him the better part of a turn to fully heal. His friends had abandoned him, turned their backs on the healing boy. Suddenly alone, Amrit fell into a depression at such a tender age.
Yet it would be his mother’s doing that he found a better sense of purpose. He was introduced to the local harper journeyman, who took him under his wing. Amrit grew into a softer person--gone was the firecracker, and in was the warmth of a hearth. He learned to not just sing, but smile again. Singing became his escape, with a sweet soprano that never left him even as it broke in some of the harper’s other pupils.
The fall of his 14th turn, a searchrider appeared at the hold, for a golden queen had risen and they had need of candidates. Amrit had been picked out of the crowd--but so had his best friend, or former. Ziril, now older, stronger, more developed, sank his talons into the younger, softer boy. The months leading up to the hatching were brutal for Amrit, who in all his humble nature, never spoke up about the tormenting.
Yet came hatching day. The candidates scrambled into position, bowing deep to the mother and father. Amrit was excited, nervous to stand for his first hatching--if trying to avoid his former friend. Yet Ziril constantly moved in front of him, with a jeer of any dragon that thought that Amrit was worthy should see a real candidate first. Yet when a bronze hatched on the sands, large in size--everyone held their breath. First out, yet the large bronze would take until the near end to finally find his rider. The bronze--the sole bronze of the clutch--made all the boys puff up in pride. For they were worthy of such a bronze. The only glimmering hide of the bunch. They could align themselves in his patient attitude of waiting until his siblings hatched, agree as he turned to croon encouragement to every member of his growing family a good morning and a safe passage. He was every boy’s dream--yet as he approached Ziril, he stared up at the boy as he stuck his chest out a bit proudly.
Until the bronze sneezed quite purposefully, broadcasting to everyone around him to hear--
You’re in my way. Move.
Ziril, dumbfounded, scuttled out of the way as the bronze easily loped to stand in front of Amrit. There you are. I thought that dimwit would block my view of you all hatching, Mine, so I made him move. Your Chirakumath has no patience for those who would keep me from you.
Amrit, for his brief stint at Ista, would be known as A’rit, was utterly floored. For didn’t this perfect dragon want a better man? Yet Chirakumath would want nothing to do with it--for His was His, even if Amrit needed to come to terms with it.
Weyrlinghood would fly by for the pair, and although Amrit worked on his self confidence, it was still lacking. Once fully graduated, they took to the skies to see what Pern had to offer. Yet they were ultimately drawn to Western for a fresher start--and Amrit dropped his abbreviated name. They would be waiting in the wings for when thread had returned, and meet it eagerly.
Other: Beware sharp objects, yo
DRAGON
Name: Chirakumath
Age: 19
Color: Bronze
Size: 46’
Physical Description: This dragon is certainly a specimen of his color. Clocking out at max size, Chirakumath is a very strong boy. A barrel chest and strong wings keep him up in the air with ease. His limbs are thicker and sturdier, which in his youth was troublesome. Yet once he’d reached his full size and stride, he found his grace. Chirakumath is a bit heavier round the middle, but it certainly doesn’t slow him down.
Personality: This boy is nothing but a damn flirt. Chirakumath sees all, and certainly enjoys all. Oh, a pretty green is rising? Oh, what a lovely gold sunning herself. Ladies are his true passion, for he will bend over backwards to impress any lady dragon that he sees. Well, whites may take some time to garner his attention--not for anything but Chirakumath just simply… not be able to tell right away if some lovely dragon is female or male. Oops. But he is all about the ladies. Really. He has no interest in males--certainly doesn’t admire a blue’s zippiness, or a sturdy brown’s wingspan, or a fellow bronze’s sheen. Certainly.
He’s not the smartest dragon, that is true. The notion of Big, Dumb Bronze seems made for him. Yet where that may offend a prouder king’s sensibilities, Chirakumath just can’t be bothered to care. So he’s dumb, oh well. He can still sear thread, still chase after rising females. The social ladder isn’t for him, though one might assume with how he spouts rather pathetic compliments or fetches a meal just so a pretty queen doesn’t have to dirty her talons with the catch.
His easy going manner carries over to his friends, for it’s certainly not hard to get along with Chirakumath. For the Istan easiness has leeched its way into his soul. Oh, new dragon to the Weyr? Why not show them the best spot on the beach where the warm air and cool water feel so completely balanced. A dragon’s not having a good day? He’s got a shoulder, or at the least nudges them up in the air to come fly and forget their problems.
When it comes to love, Chirakumath is a hard dragon to nail down. He is a romantic soul--no thanks to long evenings with his little pillow of a rider reading romance novels to him--, but he does adore everyone. It may also be hard in that he makes it no little secret how he adores hatchlings, and would love to have a clutch of them to call his own. Any dragon that may choose to call Chirakumath their own may have to contend with his desire to be a father. But should a gold take his fancy? He would chase no other. It’s a complicated matter for the otherwise dumb dragon, as he craves love but also family.
Dragon Art or Proof of Obtainment:
