Post by Chellie on Apr 29, 2008 20:43:16 GMT -5
Name: Sorcha
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Rank: Weyrling
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Origins: She claims Benden Hold.
Weyrmate: N/A
Personality: She doesn't really give a care about other people who thrive to make others miserable or their pathetic stories that they tell over and over for pity. Now when we can describe her as being bitter. Too many disappointments have happened in her life for her to even think about relying on someone else. Perhaps if you get close enough to her, you might find the hurting girl behind the mask. Cunning, Courageous, and Confident... Just a few of the words to describe the minx, with this astounding mix and a hint of pride thrown into the mix Sorcha becomes the kind of person who'll always strive to succeed in her ambitions; or die trying. With her demeanor Sorcha is often regarded as callused and tuned out to her emotions; though these assumptions are amazingly inaccurate, there is a much quieter and more compassionate side to her. She absolutely despises standing idle and fretting about what has yet to come, if it is a problem she can handle you better believe she will fix it and think of the consequences later. Independence has been a major factor in her life, this lass has never been one to rely on others to do tasks for her.... She prefers to do things her own way and style, alone without anyone hovering over her shoulder. Watch what you say before you speak to her, I warn. Her temper is something fierce. In all, she is quite the character you could say… Very quiet, shut-off to the world. Sorcha has always been the kind of girl that hates to lose. Whether it is from a simple game of cards or to a race between runners; the girl will always give her best to be the best. Despite this winner's mentality, she knows her limits pretty well. This minx has never been one to crack jokes, or for that matter to laugh at one. Her outlook on life is quite serious; she has a healer's heart, though it's locked away underneath all the walls she has put around herself.
As afore mentioned; trust is something that she lacks. Majorly. Friends, mentors, etc. she keeps her defenses up as if she were protecting herself from the mighty King Kong on a rampage. It's as simple as this; no one in heaven, hell, or earth deserves her trust. The only person she can trust in to be steady and always remain is, well, herself. It's better to play on the safe side so she wont' get hurt, be cold and calloused so that she can stay secure in her own world. And because of this, the greeting you will most likely get is one of the following: complete silence, a sarcastic remark, or a glare that made /between/ seem warm.
Arguing- She thrives off of this, whether it is from a heated debate or to defining what is just and what is not, Sorcha loves it. Vocalizing her opinion is no problem for dear Sorcha. Dogmatic. A fancy word to describe that she's stubborn, set in her opinion, and at times immune to any sense that you might be trying to talk into her. This minx has always been one to lather her sentences up with a ton of sarcasm. It's another lovely thing that has convinced people that she's someone to avoid. And that's exactly what she wants; to be alone. She desires to be away from pain and away from the drama that others cause. Her outlook on life is quite serious; she views the world with unveiled eyes and realizes that it isn't some place that is bountiful in love and happiness.
This attractive looking young woman is a fighter to the end, never once backing down from a problem set before her. Try to force her into something? You'll regret even thinking that you could, for an equivalent of a stick of dynamite being lit underneath your feet will be let out upon you. 'Though she be but little, she is fierce.' Our dear friend William Shakespeare must have seen into the future and glimpsed at the demeanor of Sorcha when he had created this classic quote.
If you tick Sorcha off, you better believe she will get revenge. A grudge is not necessarily something that she will hold against you, but do not think that the minx will just let something go. Quietly she'll bide her time until you least expect it, then bam, Sorcha will get you where it hurts most. In other words, she'll make your life miserable until she finally decides you've learnt your lesson. Needless to say, she's the type of person that follows up with her threats. If she says she's gonna do something, you better run while you have the chance. No mercy will be shed upon someone once you've pushed all of her buttons.
Now don't go assuming that she is a wicked person… For Sorcha is not, rather she just finds it very difficult to have faith in someone. A love does reside in that chest of hers, a love for life and a love begging to be let loose and shared with someone or something. It's just the matter of expressing this… It's a handicap, if you will, for her to describe her feelings instead of sinking into that shut-off state that has been her haven over the past few turns. All walls fall down, eventually… Some just take a bit more time.
Appearance:
"I am the voice on the wind
And you call out my name.
Listen to me, my child…"
The pleasing sound rose towards the rafters of the room, ricocheting off of the wood and carrying farther. As the flame that warmed the hearths, the woman moved. Her movements were rapid and ever changing, wild and alluring as the fire that never ceases. Raven locks spun about slender shoulders, the waves as free as the sea. Entangling like luscious ropes about the trim waist, and cascading like spilled ink.
I am the voice of the wind and pouring rain.
I am the voice of your hunger and pain.
I am the voice that will always remain.
I am the voice of the past that will always be."
From whence does this euphony derive from? A lass of eighteen or so turns, twirling in the skirts of vibrant hue. Slender legs were revealed as she danced to the beat, the robust reds clashing nicely with the splendid saffron material that flowed in a sheers along the clothing. The bodice hugging her curves gently.
I am the voice of your history.
I am the voice of the mystery…
I am the voice of your wonder.
I am the voice of your desire.
Slim arms were raised out in front of her as the lyrics were finished; this position was held for a brief moment until she brought herself back into reality. The solitude she'd left herself in.
Full lips were brought into a hidden smile as eyes more grey than that of a weeping storm cloud scanned about the warm room. The delicate bone-structure of her heart-shaped face was unveiled when the curtain of raven locks were pushed behind an ear. Even as she smiled, a true storm could be seen in her large eyes. A storm that never left, but always plagued her… Her physical form is a jubilee of observations. She is robustly healthy; the signature from her physical form swelled with life and energy and a surprising muscularity, given her size and stature. She is very small, but her body is long and willowy, giving her a sense of height she did not merit. The lines of her figure were lithe and well apportioned, with narrow shoulders, long arms, and longer, exquisite legs. Now, about her attire; it is breeches and a tunic and the occasional skirt... And even rarer gown. Needless to say, skirts or gowns of any sort cause her to shudder in disgust. Comfortable, perhaps, but she'll take men's apparel over female any day. In addition to the sleek, long legs, her torso is long and slender, as is her neck. Her abdomen, as well, is slender and flat, with slim hips. Her face is crafted as though by a sculptor lovingly working a lifetime on a masterpiece he would one day finish and commit to humankind. The features are all in perfect harmony with the possible exception of the large, deep-grey eyes. They being fringed with thick black lashes and were intense in their colors, the whites very white against the dark grey contrast. They sparkle with a light of their own, having a hypnotic affect if one looked into them, like a flickering flame. Sorcha has a gentleness in her eyes that pulled one in, but only so far; there was pain there, too, pain the depth of which one could not even see a bottom to. When she laughed her eyes laughed first, and when she was angry, they were the bellwether of that emotion, too. Her small stature and lithe frame would lead one to believe she was incapable of combat... How wrong they would be. Where she lacked in size, the audacious female gained in speed. To make up for where she lacked in strength, Sorcha had spent every waking moment training her body to defend herself against even the brawniest of men. Not very lady like, eh? ‘Tis true… But when faced with the trials that she had, there was no possible way for her to rely on someone else to keep her safe. Endurance was gained and a certain strength. The freckles she had developed in her early years of life had long disappeared underneath the tan that had gained in the years she had spent fighting as a young girl, weathering the elements, and clashing arms with an assortment of fellows. It had been during those long years that scars had started to adorn her body from many a different scuffles.
History: Once upon a time there was a little babe born unto a loving family in the world of Pern. 'Twas a tiny girl, swathed in soft blankets with two proud parents gazing down at cooing at the bundle of joy. Breyton and Rania dubbed the wee lass Sorcha. Their gift from heaven.
Thirteen turns had come and gone.
Thirteen golden turns, full of triumph and glory for our fairy-tale family.
But a dark evil would come to obliterate their joy. It had been the eve before Sorcha's birthday, her sister and she getting into a spat near a cliff's edge. The bickering had rose into a heated debate, neither stubborn females backing down from their opinions. The older, Rocio, shoved Sorcha while screaming out in rage, "You're nothing better than a drudge! You should be serving me, you numb skull!" Such words bit deep into the newly turned thirteen-turn year old's spirit, causing a wave of emotion to flood over her. "Take it back!" She screamed in retaliation, ramming into her elder sister.
She just wants to crawl up and die-
Hide away and cry.
Away from the pain.
Away from the blame.
Away from the shame.
Thirteen long years full of love, joy, and happiness. Never would one imagine that this child had murdered her sister.
It was not intentional, at all… But the shove had resulted in the elder girl losing her balance and tumbling down the cliff's edge. The snapping of bone and a scream signaled the end of her life. Leaving a terrified Sorcha trembling over, not able to believe what had happened.
She had not a clue what to do, her parents would never accept her… For all she knew, they might have returned the favor that she had dealt upon her senior of three turns. All that was left to do was run; and run fast from the wretched place.
But not the end of the story.
Sorcha had been left to fend for herself.
She running blindly into the cold land that she had known all her life.
Dark fingers closing around her throat,
She cannot scream.
She cannot cry.
No one can her hear,
No one will listen.
For two fortnights, the adolescent managed to survive off of the harsh climate during its winter months. Though the wear and tear showed quite clearly; her skin was sallow and chapped from the constant battering of the wind, her limbs (thankfully) had not been plagued by frostbite… She wise enough to have dressed warmly on that fateful evening and knew enough about how to create a fire to satisfy her needs of warmth. Her bones had begun to protrude, a sign of lack of nutrition and emaciation. Battered and bloodied, they were left in disbelief that she had lasted so long.
But a fighter this Sorcha was, a solo fighter.
It was in this state that a traveling caravan (though they be few and far between) heading towards Benden Hold found the lass, nearly at the end of her line and definitely close to losing her wits. In her state of depression, she had begged the men to leave her be… to let her die her pitiful death. Such protests were ignored, she being immediately taken to the healer that had come along with them, Arakin. The trip had finally been made, the group arriving to Benden Hold and she being nourished back to health.
Though her life was replenished… Her soul was still in its weak state… Traumatized by her sister's death.
She had lost her family.
Lost all of her friends.
Even lost her home.
Nothing seemed to remain.
But even fate hadn't been kind enough to let her meet her maker. Nay, she'd been 'rescued' as they had called it. Leaving her to become numb inside… Numb to touch… Numb to feeling. The scene constantly patronized her, replaying over and over in her minds eye as if it had happened just a second before.
Pain not letting her go,
His hold ever tighter.
Taunting her to cry.
Taunting her to fall.
Even in her suffering, the afore mentioned healer, Arakin, had taken her underneath his wing. Adopted her as his 'child' and taught her some trades of the healing… That is before she was found to have a talent for singing, though this talent was hardly coaxed out. Much to the insistence of Arakin, the young woman sung a line or two. Nothing more and for no one other than he. Maybe a bit of love was hidden in her chest for this man that had taken her in as his own, but it wasn't displayed. How could she have the privilege of loving and being loved after what she had done?
There was not enough time to have this question answered, for before she knew it a Search crew from Vyrzen had claimed her for a Hatching, for the insanity that she might have a chance at Impressing. The absurdity of that thought.
Dragon colouring: Copper
Dragon Name: Dellanth
Dragon Rank: Hatchling
Dragon Appearance: Obviously, Dellanth is a Copper. But at a first glance, and even after a second or third, one could confuse her with being a Bronze. More so than other Coppers, her hide resembles the hide of the old King of Pern. Her large size does not help in the matter of discerning the two apart, either. Though she is not as massive as say, a Silver, Dellanth is not too far off, either.
Dragon Personality: As if to make amends for the lack of love and kindness that Sorcha gives off, Dellanth is the epitome of the two words. It is as if Sorcha and Dellanth were brought together to balance out the negative outward appearance that the lass gives off, instead the Copper has a heart so large that one can comprehend the necessity that her body be in proportion to this massive heart. Even as the young dragonet entered into the world of Pern and Impressed Sorcha, she was greeted with the loss of clutch brothers and sisters. In her debut, the dragonet had not paraded around like an aristocrat- but had mourned the passing heavily, confronting her newly bonded with questions pertaining to why such things happened.
Apart from having a heart that is as large as the Southern Continent, Dellanth is the equivalanet of what we would call a guardian angel. The dragoness very protective over those that are close to her, she knowing no boundaries when it comes to keeping safe her Bonded. Along with this trait, ties in with loyalty; never will the Copper veer away from those she values high. Until the end, she will stay- through Fall, Fog, and Fire. With never the question being raised in her mind to retreat from the challenge laid before her.
She is, as I repeat once more, the inside of Sorcha. The side that no one ever sees- but with Dellanth, this becomes a possibility.
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Rank: Weyrling
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Origins: She claims Benden Hold.
Weyrmate: N/A
Personality: She doesn't really give a care about other people who thrive to make others miserable or their pathetic stories that they tell over and over for pity. Now when we can describe her as being bitter. Too many disappointments have happened in her life for her to even think about relying on someone else. Perhaps if you get close enough to her, you might find the hurting girl behind the mask. Cunning, Courageous, and Confident... Just a few of the words to describe the minx, with this astounding mix and a hint of pride thrown into the mix Sorcha becomes the kind of person who'll always strive to succeed in her ambitions; or die trying. With her demeanor Sorcha is often regarded as callused and tuned out to her emotions; though these assumptions are amazingly inaccurate, there is a much quieter and more compassionate side to her. She absolutely despises standing idle and fretting about what has yet to come, if it is a problem she can handle you better believe she will fix it and think of the consequences later. Independence has been a major factor in her life, this lass has never been one to rely on others to do tasks for her.... She prefers to do things her own way and style, alone without anyone hovering over her shoulder. Watch what you say before you speak to her, I warn. Her temper is something fierce. In all, she is quite the character you could say… Very quiet, shut-off to the world. Sorcha has always been the kind of girl that hates to lose. Whether it is from a simple game of cards or to a race between runners; the girl will always give her best to be the best. Despite this winner's mentality, she knows her limits pretty well. This minx has never been one to crack jokes, or for that matter to laugh at one. Her outlook on life is quite serious; she has a healer's heart, though it's locked away underneath all the walls she has put around herself.
As afore mentioned; trust is something that she lacks. Majorly. Friends, mentors, etc. she keeps her defenses up as if she were protecting herself from the mighty King Kong on a rampage. It's as simple as this; no one in heaven, hell, or earth deserves her trust. The only person she can trust in to be steady and always remain is, well, herself. It's better to play on the safe side so she wont' get hurt, be cold and calloused so that she can stay secure in her own world. And because of this, the greeting you will most likely get is one of the following: complete silence, a sarcastic remark, or a glare that made /between/ seem warm.
Arguing- She thrives off of this, whether it is from a heated debate or to defining what is just and what is not, Sorcha loves it. Vocalizing her opinion is no problem for dear Sorcha. Dogmatic. A fancy word to describe that she's stubborn, set in her opinion, and at times immune to any sense that you might be trying to talk into her. This minx has always been one to lather her sentences up with a ton of sarcasm. It's another lovely thing that has convinced people that she's someone to avoid. And that's exactly what she wants; to be alone. She desires to be away from pain and away from the drama that others cause. Her outlook on life is quite serious; she views the world with unveiled eyes and realizes that it isn't some place that is bountiful in love and happiness.
This attractive looking young woman is a fighter to the end, never once backing down from a problem set before her. Try to force her into something? You'll regret even thinking that you could, for an equivalent of a stick of dynamite being lit underneath your feet will be let out upon you. 'Though she be but little, she is fierce.' Our dear friend William Shakespeare must have seen into the future and glimpsed at the demeanor of Sorcha when he had created this classic quote.
If you tick Sorcha off, you better believe she will get revenge. A grudge is not necessarily something that she will hold against you, but do not think that the minx will just let something go. Quietly she'll bide her time until you least expect it, then bam, Sorcha will get you where it hurts most. In other words, she'll make your life miserable until she finally decides you've learnt your lesson. Needless to say, she's the type of person that follows up with her threats. If she says she's gonna do something, you better run while you have the chance. No mercy will be shed upon someone once you've pushed all of her buttons.
Now don't go assuming that she is a wicked person… For Sorcha is not, rather she just finds it very difficult to have faith in someone. A love does reside in that chest of hers, a love for life and a love begging to be let loose and shared with someone or something. It's just the matter of expressing this… It's a handicap, if you will, for her to describe her feelings instead of sinking into that shut-off state that has been her haven over the past few turns. All walls fall down, eventually… Some just take a bit more time.
Appearance:
"I am the voice on the wind
And you call out my name.
Listen to me, my child…"
The pleasing sound rose towards the rafters of the room, ricocheting off of the wood and carrying farther. As the flame that warmed the hearths, the woman moved. Her movements were rapid and ever changing, wild and alluring as the fire that never ceases. Raven locks spun about slender shoulders, the waves as free as the sea. Entangling like luscious ropes about the trim waist, and cascading like spilled ink.
I am the voice of the wind and pouring rain.
I am the voice of your hunger and pain.
I am the voice that will always remain.
I am the voice of the past that will always be."
From whence does this euphony derive from? A lass of eighteen or so turns, twirling in the skirts of vibrant hue. Slender legs were revealed as she danced to the beat, the robust reds clashing nicely with the splendid saffron material that flowed in a sheers along the clothing. The bodice hugging her curves gently.
I am the voice of your history.
I am the voice of the mystery…
I am the voice of your wonder.
I am the voice of your desire.
Slim arms were raised out in front of her as the lyrics were finished; this position was held for a brief moment until she brought herself back into reality. The solitude she'd left herself in.
Full lips were brought into a hidden smile as eyes more grey than that of a weeping storm cloud scanned about the warm room. The delicate bone-structure of her heart-shaped face was unveiled when the curtain of raven locks were pushed behind an ear. Even as she smiled, a true storm could be seen in her large eyes. A storm that never left, but always plagued her… Her physical form is a jubilee of observations. She is robustly healthy; the signature from her physical form swelled with life and energy and a surprising muscularity, given her size and stature. She is very small, but her body is long and willowy, giving her a sense of height she did not merit. The lines of her figure were lithe and well apportioned, with narrow shoulders, long arms, and longer, exquisite legs. Now, about her attire; it is breeches and a tunic and the occasional skirt... And even rarer gown. Needless to say, skirts or gowns of any sort cause her to shudder in disgust. Comfortable, perhaps, but she'll take men's apparel over female any day. In addition to the sleek, long legs, her torso is long and slender, as is her neck. Her abdomen, as well, is slender and flat, with slim hips. Her face is crafted as though by a sculptor lovingly working a lifetime on a masterpiece he would one day finish and commit to humankind. The features are all in perfect harmony with the possible exception of the large, deep-grey eyes. They being fringed with thick black lashes and were intense in their colors, the whites very white against the dark grey contrast. They sparkle with a light of their own, having a hypnotic affect if one looked into them, like a flickering flame. Sorcha has a gentleness in her eyes that pulled one in, but only so far; there was pain there, too, pain the depth of which one could not even see a bottom to. When she laughed her eyes laughed first, and when she was angry, they were the bellwether of that emotion, too. Her small stature and lithe frame would lead one to believe she was incapable of combat... How wrong they would be. Where she lacked in size, the audacious female gained in speed. To make up for where she lacked in strength, Sorcha had spent every waking moment training her body to defend herself against even the brawniest of men. Not very lady like, eh? ‘Tis true… But when faced with the trials that she had, there was no possible way for her to rely on someone else to keep her safe. Endurance was gained and a certain strength. The freckles she had developed in her early years of life had long disappeared underneath the tan that had gained in the years she had spent fighting as a young girl, weathering the elements, and clashing arms with an assortment of fellows. It had been during those long years that scars had started to adorn her body from many a different scuffles.
History: Once upon a time there was a little babe born unto a loving family in the world of Pern. 'Twas a tiny girl, swathed in soft blankets with two proud parents gazing down at cooing at the bundle of joy. Breyton and Rania dubbed the wee lass Sorcha. Their gift from heaven.
Thirteen turns had come and gone.
Thirteen golden turns, full of triumph and glory for our fairy-tale family.
But a dark evil would come to obliterate their joy. It had been the eve before Sorcha's birthday, her sister and she getting into a spat near a cliff's edge. The bickering had rose into a heated debate, neither stubborn females backing down from their opinions. The older, Rocio, shoved Sorcha while screaming out in rage, "You're nothing better than a drudge! You should be serving me, you numb skull!" Such words bit deep into the newly turned thirteen-turn year old's spirit, causing a wave of emotion to flood over her. "Take it back!" She screamed in retaliation, ramming into her elder sister.
She just wants to crawl up and die-
Hide away and cry.
Away from the pain.
Away from the blame.
Away from the shame.
Thirteen long years full of love, joy, and happiness. Never would one imagine that this child had murdered her sister.
It was not intentional, at all… But the shove had resulted in the elder girl losing her balance and tumbling down the cliff's edge. The snapping of bone and a scream signaled the end of her life. Leaving a terrified Sorcha trembling over, not able to believe what had happened.
She had not a clue what to do, her parents would never accept her… For all she knew, they might have returned the favor that she had dealt upon her senior of three turns. All that was left to do was run; and run fast from the wretched place.
But not the end of the story.
Sorcha had been left to fend for herself.
She running blindly into the cold land that she had known all her life.
Dark fingers closing around her throat,
She cannot scream.
She cannot cry.
No one can her hear,
No one will listen.
For two fortnights, the adolescent managed to survive off of the harsh climate during its winter months. Though the wear and tear showed quite clearly; her skin was sallow and chapped from the constant battering of the wind, her limbs (thankfully) had not been plagued by frostbite… She wise enough to have dressed warmly on that fateful evening and knew enough about how to create a fire to satisfy her needs of warmth. Her bones had begun to protrude, a sign of lack of nutrition and emaciation. Battered and bloodied, they were left in disbelief that she had lasted so long.
But a fighter this Sorcha was, a solo fighter.
It was in this state that a traveling caravan (though they be few and far between) heading towards Benden Hold found the lass, nearly at the end of her line and definitely close to losing her wits. In her state of depression, she had begged the men to leave her be… to let her die her pitiful death. Such protests were ignored, she being immediately taken to the healer that had come along with them, Arakin. The trip had finally been made, the group arriving to Benden Hold and she being nourished back to health.
Though her life was replenished… Her soul was still in its weak state… Traumatized by her sister's death.
She had lost her family.
Lost all of her friends.
Even lost her home.
Nothing seemed to remain.
But even fate hadn't been kind enough to let her meet her maker. Nay, she'd been 'rescued' as they had called it. Leaving her to become numb inside… Numb to touch… Numb to feeling. The scene constantly patronized her, replaying over and over in her minds eye as if it had happened just a second before.
Pain not letting her go,
His hold ever tighter.
Taunting her to cry.
Taunting her to fall.
Even in her suffering, the afore mentioned healer, Arakin, had taken her underneath his wing. Adopted her as his 'child' and taught her some trades of the healing… That is before she was found to have a talent for singing, though this talent was hardly coaxed out. Much to the insistence of Arakin, the young woman sung a line or two. Nothing more and for no one other than he. Maybe a bit of love was hidden in her chest for this man that had taken her in as his own, but it wasn't displayed. How could she have the privilege of loving and being loved after what she had done?
There was not enough time to have this question answered, for before she knew it a Search crew from Vyrzen had claimed her for a Hatching, for the insanity that she might have a chance at Impressing. The absurdity of that thought.
Dragon colouring: Copper
Dragon Name: Dellanth
Dragon Rank: Hatchling
Dragon Appearance: Obviously, Dellanth is a Copper. But at a first glance, and even after a second or third, one could confuse her with being a Bronze. More so than other Coppers, her hide resembles the hide of the old King of Pern. Her large size does not help in the matter of discerning the two apart, either. Though she is not as massive as say, a Silver, Dellanth is not too far off, either.
Dragon Personality: As if to make amends for the lack of love and kindness that Sorcha gives off, Dellanth is the epitome of the two words. It is as if Sorcha and Dellanth were brought together to balance out the negative outward appearance that the lass gives off, instead the Copper has a heart so large that one can comprehend the necessity that her body be in proportion to this massive heart. Even as the young dragonet entered into the world of Pern and Impressed Sorcha, she was greeted with the loss of clutch brothers and sisters. In her debut, the dragonet had not paraded around like an aristocrat- but had mourned the passing heavily, confronting her newly bonded with questions pertaining to why such things happened.
Apart from having a heart that is as large as the Southern Continent, Dellanth is the equivalanet of what we would call a guardian angel. The dragoness very protective over those that are close to her, she knowing no boundaries when it comes to keeping safe her Bonded. Along with this trait, ties in with loyalty; never will the Copper veer away from those she values high. Until the end, she will stay- through Fall, Fog, and Fire. With never the question being raised in her mind to retreat from the challenge laid before her.
She is, as I repeat once more, the inside of Sorcha. The side that no one ever sees- but with Dellanth, this becomes a possibility.