Wherhandler Pandea and Brick Pandesk Aug 14, 2013 17:39:46 GMT -8
Post by Itoshii on Aug 14, 2013 17:39:46 GMT -8
Name: Pandea Riven
Pronunciation: Pan-day Riv-ven
Age: 28 Turns
Weyr: Rainbow Mists
Mother- Retired Weaver, Creche worker (ISW) Andrea
Father- Journeyman Weaver (Cliffside) Palerick
Pandea is a charmingly handsome fellow, any traces of boyhood long gone from his well defined face. A square jaw and strong nose paired with soft gray eyes and gently curving lips give his face a friendly appeal without appearing feminine. He keeps his facial hair stubbly, though well kept. His softly toned brown hair is longer on top than it is the sides and is very rarely windswept or messy.
He stands at a respectable 6'1" and has a toned, though only slightly tanned, build. He doesn't even particularly try, he's just one of the lucky people who can eat whatever he wants and he stays nice and fit, though chasing around Pandesk and finding hidden items certainly doesn't hurt.
Pandea is the last person one might expect to be a wherhandler. Gentle in every way of the word possible, the "unpredictable" nature of whers doesn't seem like it would be his forte. But Pan just loves the ugly little balls of hide, and finds comfort among them as one might a litter of puppies. He's inclined towards being clumsy, as if he never fully learned how to control his limbs in harmony.
He's on the motherly side, always worried about those he befriends should the run into trouble and is always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder should they need advice or to vent, at least on a strictly platonic level. When it comes to romance, Pandea is incredibly shy and acquires quite the stutter in the face of those he finds attractive. He's more inclined towards the ladies, but he isn't against (though possibly ashamed) of admiring a handsome man.
When he isn't trying to find his boot or apologizing for having to find someone else's boots, Pan can usually be found doodling. While he never acquired the deft hands required to weave, he did inherent their eye for color and rather enjoys painting. More recently he's taken to to trying to perfect the subtlety of a dragon's hide and often leaving anonymous gifts for people around the weyr, too shy to openly share his talent with others.
Pandea was born into the scripted excitement of Crafthall life. Born to two Journeymen Weavers, life was full of color and creative spark. From an early age Pandea was nurtured into a blossom of artistic passion, learning every shade and hue like some children would learn all the little places green things liked to grow that had to be plucked. Not long after his 4th turnday, Pandea's mother walked the tables, graduating from the life as a Journeyman. His father still traveled, often bringing home brilliantly colored flowers and dyes from across the world.
And so the world turned, and at 8 Turns of age Pandea (in a rare fit of disobedience) strayed too far from home around dusk, wanting to catch sight of some wild firelizards another boy had told him about. Realizing later that it was far past when he would have been expected for dinner, Pandea began to make his way back in the direction he believed home was. Night fell deeper and panic began to set in. Adding injury to insult he was set upon by a flock of wherries when he stumbled upon and startled a young bird. Running as fast as his terror could carry him, his shrieks were like a beacon for the wher and it's handler that had gone out looking for the young boy.
Pandea lay huddled up on the ground for a few minutes after the commotion settled, until a gloved hand settled on his shoulder and a kind voice drew him to his feet. The Iron wher nudged him, pleased with itself for the victory and he was smitten with the ugly little beasts from there. Convinced they were every bit as amazing as their gigantic cousins he tried to spend as much time as possible with them.
As the next few turns went on the time he was allowed to spend around the Handlers and their Whers and the more time he spent preparing to enter an apprenticeship as a weaver. Finally he entered apprentice-hood and was quickly found to be talented in the art of dying threads. And so the world turned, dying threads, running errands, making mediocre rugs, occasionally helping on a larger tapestry. Not long before his 18th turnday, and not long before he was to become a Journeyman, he took a leap of faith and escaped from the Weavercraft hall and off to Rainbow Mists Weyr.
Once there he quickly found work with the Weyr's on weavers, who were delighted to have a willing hand for the task of dying the threads. Not long thereafter he caught word of a wild wher clutch that had been found by a rider. Sneaking out with the location firmly in his mind, he set off at dusk to where the clutch had been reported. The mother was a testy old Starlight, who after much praise grumbled and allowed him to stay near the nest of 5.
As often as possible he visited the nest, always with praise and admiration to spare for the clutchmother, who was more easily swayed than her dragon counterpart, and a sack full of meat. So this continued, with the occasional meeting of another hopeful handler, until one night as he went to leave she hissed and blocked his path. Afraid he had offended her in some way he tried to smother her with the praise that had so easily pacified her before but she would have none of it. Finally he gave up and sat down, and as he did so she went and laid back near her clutch. He rested his head on his knees, until a thrumming sound broke through his concentration. Looking around, confused as to where the sound came from, he noticed the Starlight had become agitated again, this time whipping her tail about as she watched the eggs. And there was movement. Shells rattling and shaking and shifting as they cracked.
They hatched rapidly and soon there were colors all about him, though now he couldn't tell you the colors he had seen. He quickly waved about the meat, though the only one to come to him was one of the smallest, bounding to him before gobbling down anything that he had to offer, her emotions a fuzzy feeling at the edges of his mind, but it still didn't seem right. Suddenly the stories told to him by the handlers when he was young came back to him. He needed to make a blood bond! Fumbling around for his knife he held his breath as he cut his palm, offering it to the Hatchling, who accepted just as eagerly as she had the meat. Her feelings were a happy content warmth within Pandea, who took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand and finally stepped back to really take a look at his new companion.
She was small, and very clearly a brick. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd been hoping for an iron, but he was more than happy with his Pandesk, and she was happy with him, though hunger pangs still bumped against his mind. He looked about suddenly, he needed to get to the Weyr! The nest was empty, what happened to the other Wherlings he wasn't sure, but he made his way back to Rainbow Mists, Pandesk at his side.
Adoption?: NO! Just kidding, he and Pandesk are totally adoptable. The Weyr clearly needs them.
Wher's Name: Pandesk
Wher’s Gender: Female
Wher's Age: 10
Wher's Color: Brick
Pandesk is a very brown Brick wher, though her hide is heavily mottled with rusty red and cloudy gray. She most notable by her very gray front right foot and her rusty red right front leg. Her overall appearance is that of a very weathered and dirty brown rock, though her slightly rough hide proves otherwise.
Pan is very average in height, but very muscled in the chest and hindquarters, mostly from dragging her prizes (usually something of someone else's) around and stashing them away wherever seems good (it usually isn't). She's also faster than most would suspect a wher of being, though having items thrown at you tends to do that.
Pandesk is what someone from earth would describe as "ferret"-like in behavior. She loves to hoard random items (particularly boots, much to the annoyance of those around her) and stash them places such as under beds or dressers. This often gets her into trouble, though she treats being chased more like a game of tag then the berating of clunky items that it usually is.
Pan is also a very sociable wher, often forgetting (as is the Wher Way) that nearly everyone in the Weyr has suffered her mischief at least once. The average person seems to take her in stride, as rarely have her stunts caused any harm, though once when she was young she tripped Pandea down a flight of stairs, breaking one of his ribs and a wrist, for which she has never forgiven herself.
Though she cannot speak, her love of human interaction (good or bad) has resulted in a large variety of sounds, though the deeper voice of a wher keeps her from vocalizing as extensively as a firelizard. It doesn't keep her from trying, however, and it often results with hilarious sounds and very confused expressions.
Pandesk was born into this world surrounded by a flurry of half-wild siblings, all scrabbling to find whatever they could to eat. She doesn't know, and who would expect a wher to, what happened to her clutchmates that day. All she knows is there was food, and love, and praise, and goodness. She blood bonded to Pandea, who brought her back to Rainbow Mists and raised her with more kindness than many could understand to be given a lowly wher.
From the very start Pandesk was the poster child for ADHD, proving to not be too good for much at all. Many times, as Pandea learned that caring for a brick wher that would put anything and everything in its mouth at least once was a bigger job that he could have imagined. At times he wondered if he wasn't more stressed out than a Weyrwoman, and would have volunteered a few times to trade places with her for a bit, if only so he wasn't fishing out objects from another being's throat. In one day she tried to eat a boot, a necklace, a tunic, the other boot, and the food bucket. And that was just before it was time to leave their room!
For the most part, Pandesk has been a harmless nuisance around the Weyr, many people taking her antics in good stride. The only time any substantial bad had come from her crazyness it was Pandea who took the brunt of it. Thinking herself clever, the little Brick had placed an object (though what no one can seem to remember) at the top of a set of stairs, thinking that Pandea would see it and reach to grab it, after which she would... something. Jump out? Food? Oh look, something shiny-
Anyways, Pandea came out from the room, arms burdened with spools of thread and other weaving materials he had gathered for a small project. He couldn't see the object over his bundle and promptly fell head over feet down said stairs, breaking a wrist and cracking a rib. Laid up in bed for several weeks, the poor wher hardly got excited for mealtimes, let alone wandered about causing mischief. And so she lay, curled up across the room from Pandea, only resting when other people were in the room tending him. The day he stood she about knocked him over in her exuberance, only to get a sharp reprimanding from one of the Healerfolk, after which she thudded her tail on the floor and 'hurrbl'ed her happiness.
From then on, Pandesk stuck to the harmless fun, and worries over Pandea like a mother dragon over her eggs whenever he's near a flight of stairs. Shoes are still her favorite snack, and Pandea (as well as a few other weyrfolk) have lost many a good pair of boots to the adorable little brick wher. She's still yet to find a good "job", though they still take their turns trying to do night watch (luckily on inactive nights), and other odd jobs.