Nightwatch leader Rozen, Wherhandler of Gold Rozsk Mar 29, 2010 18:05:37 GMT -5
Post by Rouxy on Mar 29, 2010 18:05:37 GMT -5
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Wherhandler, Nightwatch leader
Description: A petite girl, Rozen barely reaches 5ft in height, sometimes 5’1” on a good day. Slender in build, the femininity of her body is as slight as her height, with curves that seem unduly young and nonexistent. Despite this, she dresses in a distinctly feminine manner to dismiss any notions of her being male, a particularly unpleasant thought in her mind. Her hair is a deep shade of honey blonde with brownish layers underneath, and has a gentle wave that can turn into loose curls at the ends. Thick and kept meticulously clean, it falls to about mid-back, and she considers it her most pleasing physical quality, wearing it in a variety of styles depending upon the situation. Her skin is an interesting mix of olive undertones with the pale look of someone who rarely goes outside, though that is starting to mellow into somewhat darker tones. Her eyes are well proportioned to her round, heart shaped face, a rather generic slate-blue color that usually fails to attract attention. The over all effect is one of mediocre pleasantness with nothing truly notable about her figure.
Before being chosen as a handler, Rozen often wore dresses that were feminine, but lacked the frills and fripperies of upper status ladies. Both by choice, and necessity, her clothes were chosen to complement the slim curves of her form and the coloration of her skin and hair without lace and intricate beading or thread work. More recently, she has taken to the usual Weyr outfits with some differences, able to procure longer tunics and looser pants of various shades, using the same belts from her dresses to cinch her tunics at the waist, creating a comfortable dress-like appearance with pants.
She always wears a slim knife strapped to the inner part of either forearm, or her outer thigh, a gift from the father she never really knew. The sheath is thin and easily hidden beneath any type of sleeve, while the handle is narrow and easy for her to free with her other hand. If she can’t hide the blade beneath long sleeves, she wears the blade strapped to her thigh, beneath any skirts she might be wearing and over pants.
Personality: Territorial by nature, Rozen has a strong sense of what is hers, and what her personal space consists of. She does not often feel comfortable allowing people to touch her in friendly terms right away. Introduced early on to the easy concept of sexuality shared by most Riders, she has a preference towards males, but is not against the idea of loving a female. To her, if one finds pleasure in another’s company, no matter the gender, this is all that matters. Because she has generally followed her mother’s example as an avidly sexual greenrider for a few years, she is comfortable and knowledgeable about things related to dragons and lust. In other words, flightlust leading to sex leading to spontaneous abortion. Rozen will never have a child that has spawned from flight lust, as it gifted her a life without a father she could rely on because it was not of his choosing. She never did understand why her mother kept the brown rider’s get over others, but it cemented a firm belief in mutual love, or at least mutual acceptance before mutual conception. Despite this, she has found some softness in her for the younger children of the creche. Some parentless like herself, she can easily identify with these children, and she has become a common figure in the creche. Caring for them has become a main positive point in her life, and she will leap to the defense of any child, no matter the danger, claiming the one small piece of selflessness in her for them.
Of a generally easy nature, Rozen will often act in two distinctly different manners depending upon who she is with. If with friends, children or family, she is light hearted and happy, with a bright smile and laughing eyes. With strangers, or associates, or generally anyone who fails to fall into her three chosen categories, she is a bit cold, and aloof, though willing to talk. It is not difficult to have her warm to someone though. She does not have terribly high standards about friends, or lovers for that matter, and she will easily cozen up to just about anyone without much negotiation, though there are a few people she has marked on her mental ‘never sleep with’ list. Brown riders usually fall into this list without any indication of their actual worth or personality. Despite acting cool, she always has -some- emotion on her face, unable to hide her thoughts well enough to act otherwise. Be it sadness, happiness, disdain or what have you, she is always expressive. The only emotion she does not show is anger, and this is because her expression for anger is a calm mask, utterly devoid of any other indication of fleeting emotion. Those few who know her well can recognize this in her, as she is easy to anger, but many others do no recognize the potential danger.
She can be very aggressive in this state, to males in particular, and her handiness with a blade is seconded only by her eagerness to use it when she feels likes she's being attacked, physically or verbally. The years in Southern have calmed some of that, and she is usually able to quell the urge before reacting to it, knowing that her place might be compromised if she had to explain an accidental death. This doesn't keep her from practicing though, and keeping her sharp edge on both blade and reflexes is as important as showing the worth of whers has become to her. The smaller draconic cousins are her main focus, and she enjoys being in the company of her Gold over many others.
History: Born in High Reaches Weyr, Rozen was the happy result of flight lust. Her mother, a Green rider named Roslyn, was caught by a Brown rider, K’lazen, during one of her many flights. Roslyn was ready for a child, and decided to keep her instead of aborting Between as she had done before. K’lazen, however, did not want to be a father, and despite wishing the woman well, initially intended to let the Green rider and the crèche raise his daughter. He ended up visiting as a ‘friend’ off and on after she turned 4 though, belying his wish to be separate from the little family of two. As such, Rozen knew and liked him while she was growing up, but was unaware of his fatherhood status to herself, as Roslyn deigned to keep it from her. Unhappy with the fact that the Brown rider didn’t want to be her acknowledged father, she was petulant enough to leave that information up to him, when and if he ever spoke of it.
Not an unkind man, K’lazen often brought the girl treats and small trinkets on the rare visits, one of which was a small, simply decorated knife which he made her promise to keep hidden on her person always, showing her various ways of doing such. Roslyn did not disagree, well aware of the potential dangers all around. Then 9, Rozen did as she was told, not knowing why, but carrying the small blade strapped to either arm under her small dresses. The stiff but thin leather of the sheath kept it from ever hurting her in such vulnerable places. Half a year later, K’lazen’s next gift was to teach her ways to use the knife. For some reason, despite the safety of the Weyr, the man felt as if he needed to take steps to protect her. Roslyn, in private discussions, claimed it was his latent need to be a father surfacing over his denial. Whatever the reason, Rozen was delighted with the new play time with her ‘friend’, enjoying the companionship of her semi-father figure even if she didn’t understand what she was learning or why.
Things continued thusly for another year or so, and surprisingly enough, things could be called good for the small family unit. K’lazen found himself enjoying his child, but still kept his secret relationship from her. He couldn’t readily identify why he did so, but Roslyn was too stubborn to reveal the truth and it remained a shadow over the pair as they watched and raised the girl child.
When Rozen got older, she often wandered away from her mother’s weyr when the Green rider was off doing whatever riders did. She wasn’t really told what. Rambling around the weyrs she could reach with stairs, she often met other riders who found the girl as enchanting as her parents did. Despite spending so much time around her mother’s green, Havelth, she was frightened of the other large creatures, and shied away from any dragon still in its weyr. This affliction only seemed to magnify as she got older, but the real issue to the girl’s development around riders and dragons spiraled around a terrible accident when she was around 14 years old. The gold of High Reaches rose for her mating flight, and every bronze and brown living in the Weyr rose to chase. Rozen, not noticing the tremendous emotions swirling around the place, stumbled into the flight rooms. Not an unusual thing, she was surprised to find the room full of riders tousling bodily with each other. Frightened, she tried to leave, but someone grabbed her from behind. The next several hours were torture for the girl as she was passed to every loser of the queen’s flight who had yet to find satiation in other ways, including K’lazen. Blinded by flight lust, he was unaware of the young girl crying beneath him, mistaken for the usual flight moths who let themselves also ride the lust wave spread from the Queen.
When he came back to himself, the brown rider was shocked and appalled at what he’d done, of what had been done to his little girl. Carrying her traumatized body to Roslyn, he was unable to bring the words needed to explain, and the Green rider shut the door in his face after taking the girl tenderly in her arms. “This is what we get for allowing you in our lives!?” She shouted through the closed door before breaking down and weeping over the broken body of her child. K’lazen retreated to his dragon, anger at himself the most prevalent emotion.
It took several months before Rozen had healed enough, both physically and mentally, to see her father again. Roslyn hovered anxiously, surprised when the girl asked to see him, but too worried about her fragility to cause her grief in any way. Meeting again in the green rider’s weyr, K’lazen kneeled down and begged the girl for forgiveness, tentatively reaching out to hug her. Rozen stepped forward, her face a mask of calm, strangely disturbing on such young features. The brown rider gently hugged her, then slowly, so as to not frighten her, he lifted the sleeve of her shirt, and reached for the knife he knew she hid there. She moved not an inch, watching with blank eyes.
“If something like…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Like that… ever happens again. Use this, Rozen. No matter… no matter who it is…” He held the knife in a posture familiar to her, and directed the point to his own chest, slightly to the side and angled up towards his heart. “Aim here, if you can, between the ribs. If not, anywhere will do. Just make certain it goes deep.” He watched her utterly calm expression, a slight shiver racing down his spine as he showed her another spot that would do serious harm. And another, and another. K’lazen wanted to make certain that no one would ever hurt her again, even him. He hadn’t been able to protect her, but maybe now, she could really protect herself.
With each new location for damage, Rozen began to feel more in control. In reality, her calmness was only a teeter on the brink of insanity, but K’lazen brought her back with this new feeling that she had power. The power to stop something if she wished, by force if necessary, as she was gaining the force by way of skill and lethality. By the end of that first lesson, she was able to smile a little at her still unknown father, the first of such her mother had seen since the incident. Roslyn was silently grateful for K’lazen’s interference, but she would never forgive him for that night, and their relaxed relationship of before was gone, to never be recovered.
Rozen gained in skill with her small knife. Her mother, fearing that her daughter’s mind was fragile and any attempt to coerce her into a relationship would result in a break down, began forcing the girl to wear drab male clothes, hiding her emerging femininity. Her hope was to keep the girl unnoticed by the younger male population. Newly 15, she constantly slid by her mother’s defenses and switched into what dresses still fit, happy to be in them. Unknown to even herself, she was daring someone to try and force themselves on her. As time passed, a group of travelers stopped by High Reaches, and one of the older men took the ‘bait’, cornering her in an isolated hall and dragging her into a small nearby room. Unaware of how she was armed, the man began to tear at her clothes, knocking her to the floor with his large body. Close to panic, Rozen slipped her knife free and plunged it upwards into the traveler’s unprotected chest with much less finesse than she’d practiced. She was lucky that her wild strike hit home, burying the knife hilt deep in his chest, and splashing her with his blood. His surprise froze on his face, and remained there as he slumped down onto her, his unwashed stench burning her nose.
Rozen couldn’t move for a moment, her breath harsh from fear, but then her heart rose in elation. She had defended herself! The joy gave her the strength to wriggle out from under the heavy body of the man, and she left him there without a second glance, pausing only long enough to retrieve her knife. She promptly returned to her mother’s weyr, walking in with a dazed, but happy smile on her face. She sat on the bed, reliving the moment over and over in her mind until her mother came for her a few hours later. Rushing in when she saw the girl covered in blood, she gave her a frantic check before finally finding nothing injured enough to bleed.
“Rozen.. Rozen, what happened?” She asked quietly. The girl turned to look at her with a smile.
“He tried to touch me, and I used my knife.” She glanced down, as if seeing the blood on her for the first time, the fluid now dry and tacky and starting to turn brown. “I messed up my dress. Mother, will it be ok?” Roslyn didn’t quite know what to say, but she pulled the girl into a tight hug. “Yes my dear, it will be ok…”
Soon after the incident had smoothed over, Roslyn put in a request to move south. As far south as they could go, to Southern Weyr. She figured the further away from High Reaches, the easier it would be for Rozen to forget, not to mention the tumult of getting to know a new home. K’lazen was distressed to hear of the decision, but agreed to the necessity and promised to try a visit as often as he could. The move did not take long to orchestrate, and before two more sevendays were through, the mother daughter pair were safely transferred to Southern Weyr, and enjoying the much warmer climate on top of surprisingly more luxurious accommodations.
At 18, three years after they’d settled into Southern, Rozen began to show up among those posing as flight moths out of a morbid curiosity for the act that had so changed her life –among other women seeking to sate the lust of males who lost a flight. Her mother was adamant that she reconsider, but if the girl were to ever fully heal, she would need to understand that the whole thing was a terribly unfortunate accident, and only feeling dragon lust herself would give her the best understanding of what had transpired. Her first green flight was uneventful, and she found that she didn’t despise the act that came during. Notably, the rider who she’d been with was kinder to her afterwards, though she was certain to keep herself barren. She began to feel better about the whole ordeal, and even began to see it as a means of gaining ground in her new world. Often, if able to fight back the effects of the lust, she would specifically choose higher ranking males to enjoy the flight with.
It was around this time that the mystery of her father finally dawned on her as a serious issue that needed correcting. She approached her mother about it with such force, that the green rider finally gave over her stubborn streak and let the girl know who her father was, and how he had been in her life even though he had not wanted the duties of being a father. Rozen wasn’t certain how to fit this new mental rearrangement of her childhood into her childhood memories of the kind older man who’d been an occasional companion and teacher. She finally came to the decision that it really didn’t matter, other than if K’lazen had wanted to be a father, she would have seen infinitely more of him, a condition she would have enjoyed. She promised herself then that she’d make certain any child of hers would have a willing father to go along with herself.
A fondness for children in general grew into the blossoming young woman, and she volunteered for many a shift in the crèche, happy to give affection to children who might have been born into similar situations. It softened her outlook quite a bit, and she became happier over all, a good change for the young woman.
The abundance of flits, dragons and whers in the Weyr assured that Rozen would have to have some contact with at least one, if not all three and she found herself charmed by all three draconic cousins. She would often go to visit any that she could, finding herself drawn mostly to the smallest, the flits, as the fears of her younger years made her a bit trepidatious of the dragons especially. It was no surprise that she managed to sneak into a hatching and come away with a little brown darling of her own, a flitter of neutral tones that she affectionately named Zeek.
Her feelings on her favorite creature changed, however, when she was lucky enough to witness a Wher hatching. It was intimate, and the sharing of blood… it rang a sort of familiarity in the girl, and she was drawn in like a magnet to the creatures, smaller flightless cousins to the dragons. One of the Wherhandlers noticed her avid curiosity, noting that she was of a good age for impression. They always needed more candidates for the less popular whers, and he approached her with the question on his tongue. As if lighting a brilliant candle in her heart, the thought of being bonded with one of these wonderful creatures took her breath away, and she accepted immediately. It was like the whole world opened up for her again. There was no telling what would happen now, and Rozen merely waited until one of the beauties would lay a clutch… her clutch. Holding her Wher, a life-partner she could trust.
Surprisingly enough, it was a wild wher’s clutch that Rozen impressed out of. The wild gold was a gentle creature as far as whers went, allowing humans to even come up and peer closely at her soon to hatch babies. When the moment came, Rozen was last chosen by the largest hatchling, a lovely gold, the best of the bunch, or so she was assured by her newly bonded gold as the blooded oatmeal was spooned down her hungry throat. She even used her knife to put a shallow slice in her palm, the wher gently licking the offering clean.
Wherling training was short, and Rozen found herself disgruntled with the brevity of it, and of her options as a wherhandler. Whers were wonderful creatures; surely they deserved their place in draconic society beyond being guard dogs? Research didn’t really provide more answers or solutions, but Rozen gathered other wherhandlers together to muddle over the problem, and the Wher-specific Nightwatch they put together was encouraged to work with the dragons on watch. Their night vision would be immeasurably better than the light-needing dragon’s.
Thread’s return gave her a new facet to work on, and experiments with whers and firestone proved they could chew as well, with smaller yet hotter bursts of flame. The fire, unfortunately, blinded them at first, until the timing necessary was perfected for them to close their eyes and let their handlers provide the needed guidance while they were temporarily blinded. The rare night Falls which before were believed impossible now had a solid fighter, and whers began thread fighting training in earnest with their handlers.
Rozen began to travel from Weyr to Weyr, encouraging other handlers to begin their training. There was no telling when a night fall might ruin an inhabited area, so the more night fighters they had, the better their chances would be. It was because of her dedication to the whers and fighting Thread that Rozen was chosen by the Southern Weyrleaders to accompany the small donated clutch to Cerulean, and work to fill their wherhall with handlers and more whers trained in fighting thread at night. Thrilled with the idea, she agreed immediately, making the transition between accompanied by the wing of dragons flying eggs in their specially warmed sacks, her mother one of the riders and all too proud of what her daughter had accomplished.
-Rozen loves children and the creche, spending a much time caring for fosterlings as she is able. She will sometimes form close bonds with a child, then see that he or she gets small additional care.
-Rozsk's ability to nearly fly has forced Rozen to realize that she has a small fear of heights, and even the wher's assuring presence in her mind won't alleviate her controlled fear when they dive off a cliff to gain the height necessary for a trip between
Color: Gold #FFD700
Telekinetic Rating: 32
Bonuses/Minuses: (Base Roll 32) + (Gold +0)
Strength: 20 (10+10)
Description: Rozsk is nothing if not gorgeous -- although whers are typically described as ugly, this queen is enough to make up for it. A compact, muscular body is best described as fluid, for it is precisely that; Rozsk has a naturally feline-like way of walking, with a predatory grace that can be unintentionally frightening. However, it displays the best of her body; each step makes the beautifully sculpted muscles in her body ripple like so much molten gold. The typical stoutness of leg that is attributed to the typical wher is apparent in Rozsk, but the short, muscled appendages seem perfectly proportioned to her body -- muscular though it is, Rozsk is not long, and therefore the muscling may give her a slightly chubby appearance, though her sinuous grace and strength will always give lie to this statement. Her neck is thick, leading to a blunt head with angled eyes; somehow, Rozsk manages to pull it off as beautiful, though; perhaps it's the permanent, proud arch of her neck and the way she carries her equally thick, strong, rather short tail, off the ground; never will Rozsk let it dangle when she's walking or standing. Her wings are larger -- longer and wider -- than usual, granting to Rozsk the capability to glide short distances, which promises that her Runs will be ones to remember.
Her hide is perhaps the most eye-catching thing about this wher, and possibly what elevates her from being "okay looking" to "gorgeous". Brilliant, pure gold, Rozsk's hide borders on outright yellow, practically a beacon. Even as a wherling, she seems to have a pre-Run glow about her, perhaps due to the metallic quality of her hide. Never will this queen be mistaken for anything but that: A queen, for the metallic shades in her hide are practically glaring, though due to her nocturnal lifestyle there will rarely sun to make it glow as brightly as it could. The light of the two moons, however, is more than enough for the metallic shade to really pop. Rozsk would probably be perfectly happy had her hide been unmarred, but it isn't, though the "imperfection" is small and generally goes unnoticed: A few, dark goldenrod speckles around her muzzle and nostrils, delicate and out of place against the bright gold of the rest of her hide.
Personality: In one word, Rozsk is a perfectionist. The epitome of a queen, Rozsk demands perfection, and will rarely accept anything less from anybody, even her Bonded, in anything, be it wherling lessons, Thread-fighting at night, or something as simple as bringing her a wherry to eat. However, Rozsk is no hypocrite, and she'll never accept anything but top notch from herself, either. Never can this queen be called a quitter, for she'll try again, again, and again if she's unable to accomplish something. That's not to say she's perfect, though, for Rozsk has a superiority complex and can't stand it whenever someone else is better than she, and will often get frustrated and short-tempered, bent on being the very best. Flying will always be something she attempts to do, for she simply can't accept that anyone, dragons included, could possibly do something that she can't -- until she is unable to move, she'll keep trying; one of these days, she's certain to get it!
However, Rozsk isn't unintelligent, for she's surprisingly observant when she's not trying to outperform someone. Feelings and motions are carefully noted by this wher and she has a sharp memory to be envied. Grudges can be held for horribly long times, but on the upside, so can loves. Though Rozsk doesn't hand out love to any passerby -- and even comes across as aloof and neutral, due to her habit of watching and waiting before acting -- the loves she does have are unable to be broken. Perhaps one of these examples is her Bonded: Rozen. While it is true that whers are capable of changing Handlers, Rozsk will outright refuse. Rozen is Hers and nobody will ever love the girl as much as this wher does. Never let it be said that a dragon can have a closer, deeper contact with their Bonded than can a wher, for Rozsk would die for her Handler.
Overall, Rozsk isn't the type to jump in charge, preferring to wait. However, she does demand that nobody give less than their very best, and should Rozsk ever lead the whers, she'll be a hard taskmaster. Rozsk will never be flirtatious, preferring to keep herself aloof from emotions unless there's a reason to feel them very deeply. Lack of perfection is one of these reasons, and she can become quickly frustrated and agitated -- at herself, at someone else. Never, however, will Rozsk ever take out her frustrations on anything that doesn't deserve it, for she's determined to prove her intelligence by keeping her attention focused solely on the object of her displeasure and nothing but.
-A slight evil streak has developed in the Gold, in that she has tried time and again to overcome the fear Hers has of heights. She will find intentionally tall places to leap from, and come out from between at the safest heights she can manage, both pushing herself for better skill and keeping her bonded in the air longer.
Description: Unremarkable. This brown is simply - unremarkable. There's nothing outstanding, surprising, or really special about him at all. His color is a flat, medium brown color, pure throughout his entire body save for a handful of tan freckles sprayed across the tip of his muzzle, but other than those few freckles, he is completely forgettable. Surprisingly, it's hard to describe this brown due to the fact that he is simply - plain. He is neither large nor small, average as far as browns go, and his frame is neither bulky nor slender, hovering somewhere in the middle. That's not to say he isn't strong, though, for he is - but his muscles tend towards more wiry, thus creating a lack of bulk. The brown's wingspan is perfectly proportional to his body, as is his tail and neck. However, a fact not usually displayed, his tail is unusually flexible, and the tip, though not in constant motion, flicks occasionally when he's deep in thought. His neck ridges are a slightly darker shade of brown, though to the casual observer, the shade difference between slightly jagged neck ridges and body is completely nonexistent.
Personality: If his appearance is unremarkable, this brown's personality could not be less so. Goofy and cheerful, he's a cuddler, a brat, a suckup, a "skirt"-chaser, a joker, a wildcard. His mood can swing wildly on the littlest detail, though usually this brown is surprisingly happy, cheerful, playful, and - cuddly. Cuddling is something that he does often and with great glee; there seems to be nothing more enjoyable to this fire lizard than curling up in the crook of His' neck and snuggling there, tail looped lightly around his humanpet's throat and his head pressed against their cheek; as thus, it's a daily ritual that absolutely must be completed in order for him to be in his best mood. Past that, he's can be bratty at times; the way he sees it, sucking up and cuddling should earn what he wants and, if he doesn't get it, he can sulk. For two minutes, tops, before he's back to his cheerful self again. This nudges onto his memory and attention span, too; he forgets things almost instantly and faces and names will fade into oblivion. However, some random facts seem to spring out of his mind at exceedingly random times; it's not unusual for him to come up with something on a dragon he saw two sevendays ago in the middle of dinner, when everyone around him is talking about something at a Hold. His attention span, too, is rather short, and thus, he's constantly on the lookout for something amusing. Luckily, he's very easily amused - especially when it comes to green fire lizards. They're the best at cuddling, after all, and so pretty - this brown loves green fire lizards, and Chases as often as he can, and ocassionally even Chases dragons when they fly, though with much less success.