Post by Jay Kitten on Sept 4, 2011 1:00:22 GMT -8
Name: Lylore Whirendyt
Pronunciation: Lie-lore Wur-endit
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Turnday: 09.04 of the 3053rd Turn
Weyr/Location: RMW
Rank: Weyrfolk
Family:
Uncle, greenrider K'lim (NPC RMW rider)
Father, tailor Lynel
Mother, seamstress Kelleore
Weyrmate/Spouse: None
Friends: None
Pets: None
Appearance: Lylore is a small-for-his-age boy, standing at a total of five feet and five inches. His hair is a deep greyish black, and flows in waves to his mid-back. His eyes are a sharp stony bluish grey, and they hold the only emotion usually visible on his face. He possesses an almost unnatural glow about him, intriguing beyond belief to those who have insatiable curiosities, to those who wish they knew what he was thinking. He wears typical clothing for a boy his age, tunics and loose work pants, with wherhide shoes. He usually wears dark blues and greys, and rarely can be seen with an almost-black purple bandana worn like a headband just under his hair, which frames his face with just enough room for his eyes to be uncovered. His teeth seem to be unnaturally straight and clean.
Personality: Needless to say, Lylore's first quality is that he is mute. He cannot speak, even if he wishes to. This frustrates him beyond belief, to the point of violence if people make fun of him for it. He thinks of it as a curse, however humbled by it as he is. Lylore doesn't deal with people very well, his emotions are wild and untamed and he isn't very good at expressing them to others at all, though he has developed a large amount of patience when attempting to do so. In fact, Lylore's patience is his most astounding attribute, he has even been seen sitting in one place, staring at insects just to watch their lives go on for an entire day. His emotions are usually only readable by the most incredibly observant or empathic, they can simply see it in his eyes. On rainy days, he sits at a window and broods for hours, be it because he is sad or lonely or perhaps he just finds the water running down the window interesting.
Lylore secretly longs for a friend. Just one. He doesn't want any more than that, but he would love somebody who understood him without the need for words, someone who was close to him and didn't feel the need to treat him like he had a handicap. He often has daydreams about finding the right one, and he draws pictures of what he sees in his mind's eye. They never look like people. Most people that see his drawings think he sees monsters, they think him twisted and insane. He really isn't, he is simply... More imaginative. But all things told, his eccentric ways cause him to seem like a creepy kind of person, especially his love for all life. Many a time did somebody run away from him when they found he was holding an incredibly large, venomous snake or spider. They rarely approached when he was hand-fishing in a river, sitting perfectly still until he was capable of snatching a single fish from the water effortlessly. Or when he lay in a field of grain, immobile to the point he was covered in butterflies and other insects. He doesn't have a singular pet, rather, all animals are his pets. They seem to love him, no matter the animal or bug. Perhaps it's because animals can sense how he feels, can communicate without words?
More like Lylore the Complex...
History: Once upon a time there was a small village, and in the center of this village there was a tree with deep purple leaves. The fruit of this tree was said to be a gift from Faranth, planted here during a great famine and marking the end of the intense hunger the people suffered through. But one day, the town awoke to find that the tree was burned down. And in the ashes, there was found only a single seed. It was this seed that would beg the question, what happened to the tree?
As the seed made it's way through the hands of the villagers for examination, some blamed raiders, others pirates, and most of all, they blamed each other. Individuals pointed the fingers at their enemies, simply because they didn't like one another. Faranth's work to return peace to the village was cast aside.
Amongst this village's civil war lived a man and a woman, not so different from your own parents. They argued and fought like any couple would, until one day Faranth blessed them with a son. It was this son who would be known as Lylore. He grew up in the troubled town, his boyhood years were spent being picked on and ridiculed by the other children of opposing houses. You see, Lylore was special. While he was growing up, nobody taught him how to talk, or that's what they say, because he had never said a single word. Only the most clever of individuals could understand the expressions on his face. But it was he who would yield the greatest harvest, as his gift of silence brought peace to those who listened. It was he who, during the town's annual investigation into the tree-burning incident, at age 10, approached the seed in quiet understanding.
The young Lylore picked the seed from it's resting place atop a fantastic altar, and returned to the ashes of the former tree, placing it in the soil so that it may grow once more. Many in the town were outraged, stating that his family must be the perpetrators. This wasn't true. Lylore simply understood that if you wanted a tree to grow, first you must plant the seed. You can't waste time with words that mean nothing, only action can succeed where words fail to move objects. Many in the town understood this simple action, but even they could not stop the most powerful houses from banishing Lylore and his family.
They sent them all across the lake, to live in the next Hold they would come across.
Lylore and his family were separated during their journey when it became impossible for them to support their nomadic lifestyle and keep him fed. His parents, having recently received word from K'lim about his recent transfer to RMW, sent him there, to hopefully get the care he needed.
He has been at RMW ever since, silent and friendless, for two Turns now.
Adoption?: Nobody shall have him, if I cannot! Bwahahaha!
Pronunciation: Lie-lore Wur-endit
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Turnday: 09.04 of the 3053rd Turn
Weyr/Location: RMW
Rank: Weyrfolk
Family:
Uncle, greenrider K'lim (NPC RMW rider)
Father, tailor Lynel
Mother, seamstress Kelleore
Weyrmate/Spouse: None
Friends: None
Pets: None
Appearance: Lylore is a small-for-his-age boy, standing at a total of five feet and five inches. His hair is a deep greyish black, and flows in waves to his mid-back. His eyes are a sharp stony bluish grey, and they hold the only emotion usually visible on his face. He possesses an almost unnatural glow about him, intriguing beyond belief to those who have insatiable curiosities, to those who wish they knew what he was thinking. He wears typical clothing for a boy his age, tunics and loose work pants, with wherhide shoes. He usually wears dark blues and greys, and rarely can be seen with an almost-black purple bandana worn like a headband just under his hair, which frames his face with just enough room for his eyes to be uncovered. His teeth seem to be unnaturally straight and clean.
Personality: Needless to say, Lylore's first quality is that he is mute. He cannot speak, even if he wishes to. This frustrates him beyond belief, to the point of violence if people make fun of him for it. He thinks of it as a curse, however humbled by it as he is. Lylore doesn't deal with people very well, his emotions are wild and untamed and he isn't very good at expressing them to others at all, though he has developed a large amount of patience when attempting to do so. In fact, Lylore's patience is his most astounding attribute, he has even been seen sitting in one place, staring at insects just to watch their lives go on for an entire day. His emotions are usually only readable by the most incredibly observant or empathic, they can simply see it in his eyes. On rainy days, he sits at a window and broods for hours, be it because he is sad or lonely or perhaps he just finds the water running down the window interesting.
Lylore secretly longs for a friend. Just one. He doesn't want any more than that, but he would love somebody who understood him without the need for words, someone who was close to him and didn't feel the need to treat him like he had a handicap. He often has daydreams about finding the right one, and he draws pictures of what he sees in his mind's eye. They never look like people. Most people that see his drawings think he sees monsters, they think him twisted and insane. He really isn't, he is simply... More imaginative. But all things told, his eccentric ways cause him to seem like a creepy kind of person, especially his love for all life. Many a time did somebody run away from him when they found he was holding an incredibly large, venomous snake or spider. They rarely approached when he was hand-fishing in a river, sitting perfectly still until he was capable of snatching a single fish from the water effortlessly. Or when he lay in a field of grain, immobile to the point he was covered in butterflies and other insects. He doesn't have a singular pet, rather, all animals are his pets. They seem to love him, no matter the animal or bug. Perhaps it's because animals can sense how he feels, can communicate without words?
More like Lylore the Complex...
History: Once upon a time there was a small village, and in the center of this village there was a tree with deep purple leaves. The fruit of this tree was said to be a gift from Faranth, planted here during a great famine and marking the end of the intense hunger the people suffered through. But one day, the town awoke to find that the tree was burned down. And in the ashes, there was found only a single seed. It was this seed that would beg the question, what happened to the tree?
As the seed made it's way through the hands of the villagers for examination, some blamed raiders, others pirates, and most of all, they blamed each other. Individuals pointed the fingers at their enemies, simply because they didn't like one another. Faranth's work to return peace to the village was cast aside.
Amongst this village's civil war lived a man and a woman, not so different from your own parents. They argued and fought like any couple would, until one day Faranth blessed them with a son. It was this son who would be known as Lylore. He grew up in the troubled town, his boyhood years were spent being picked on and ridiculed by the other children of opposing houses. You see, Lylore was special. While he was growing up, nobody taught him how to talk, or that's what they say, because he had never said a single word. Only the most clever of individuals could understand the expressions on his face. But it was he who would yield the greatest harvest, as his gift of silence brought peace to those who listened. It was he who, during the town's annual investigation into the tree-burning incident, at age 10, approached the seed in quiet understanding.
The young Lylore picked the seed from it's resting place atop a fantastic altar, and returned to the ashes of the former tree, placing it in the soil so that it may grow once more. Many in the town were outraged, stating that his family must be the perpetrators. This wasn't true. Lylore simply understood that if you wanted a tree to grow, first you must plant the seed. You can't waste time with words that mean nothing, only action can succeed where words fail to move objects. Many in the town understood this simple action, but even they could not stop the most powerful houses from banishing Lylore and his family.
They sent them all across the lake, to live in the next Hold they would come across.
Lylore and his family were separated during their journey when it became impossible for them to support their nomadic lifestyle and keep him fed. His parents, having recently received word from K'lim about his recent transfer to RMW, sent him there, to hopefully get the care he needed.
He has been at RMW ever since, silent and friendless, for two Turns now.
Adoption?: Nobody shall have him, if I cannot! Bwahahaha!
