Difference between revisions of "Dragon:Zhikath"

Latest revision as of 09:54, 16 December 2015

Watch Your Step Egg

This matte egg seems unremarkable from a distance, enveloped as it is by a lustreless, ashen gray. Only a nearer inspection will reveal the darker whorls tracing along the surface, deepening to near-black at the base nestled in the sand. These markings, possibly first mistaken for a shadow, creep up with skeletal fingers; the charcoal barbs score deeply into the lower portion of the shell, jutting off at sharp angles and with each ending in an abrupt, pointed tip. About the crown, blemishes of a faintly ominous crimson paint a crude stippling that appears tangibly rutted, however smooth to the touch the shell may be.

A slashing motion from within dissolves the Watch Your Step Egg into nothing but a pile of shards, sharp talons gleaming with egg-goo as the Loyalty and Logic Bronze draws himself out into the world. He gives his wings an experimental shake, stretching himself out before, with head raised high and eyes intelligent despite their rapid, red whirl, he takes a single dignified step out into the world.

Loyalty and Logic Bronze

Like a feat of engineering made real under the dedicated hands of a mastercrafter, he's perfect, this bronze. Each line, each curve, each powerful muscle appears designed as much for beauty as it is function, drawn together into a sleek, aerodynamic package that moves as gracefully, ever careful, upon the ground as he will, one day, in flight. Gleaming, polished bronze shades his hide, an even, true metallic tone that spreads from the tips of his slightly pointed headknobs to the muscular curve of his chest, and right down to the tip of his searching tail. In all those slick lines, only his eyeridges stand out: though as sleekly crafted as the rest of him, they're large and dark, set at an expressive slant above his coolly discerning eyes. The rounded tips of each of his neckridges, like a row of rivets stamped all the way down his back, are that same darkly burnished shade, as are his wings, though even they glitter, as if bedecked by thousands of tiny stars amidst an endless gilt sky.

Temperament

For all his outward confidence, his gleaming hide, his surety in who he is and what his place in life is, Zhikath is not so very different from you, W'chek, in a few, fundamental ways. His life, like yours, is built around a deeply ingrained moral and ethical code, one that, in many ways, complements your own. This is not to say that there won't be ways in which these ideologies clash, but that, ultimately, this is a common ground in how things are, and how the world should work. Zhikath believes in loyalty, in honor, in seeking to be better, in striving to make the most of one's gifts, in doing right by those you love. He loves you: he embraces your strengths, he tolerates your flaws, and yet, always, always, it all must come down to duty-for both of you.

Zhikath also believes in reason and logic; in fact, he believes in reason and logic above and beyond emotion of any kind. His quest to banish his own emotions will be a lifelong one, for, ultimately, despite his love of structure, Zhikath is a creature of intense emotion, as easily capable of great rage as he is of great lust, great pride, great loyalty. His personal struggle is, perhaps, part of why he is so supportive of your own struggles, so tolerant of your failures, and so firm in his belief that you will both do better next time. And yet... he loves the person you are, so why can't you? He is honestly baffled by some of your emotions, and particularly your censure of yourself: you are who you are, surely. He can understand wanting to be better, but not this desire to not be who you are; he wants you to be happy with yourself. Ultimately, his devotion to you is part of what makes it so impossible for him to succeed in his own battle: he loves you too much to let you go.

In youth, Zhikath can be passionate to a fault, forever falling short of the mark in his own, personal quest for perfection. He is impatient to prove himself, impatient for others to be able to prove themselves (he is a keen advocate of others), easy to anger, enormously easy to provoke. An insult to you is an insult to him, and he will feel these very deeply, for he is very protective of you. « They should not say such things about you, » he will insist, after leaping to your defense. < I won't have them think of us this way. » It may, at first, be difficult to separate his emotions from yours; indeed, it may take some time before the two of you are able to separate yourselves effectively.

In other things, however, he is a quick learner, aided by his own personal dedication as well as his natural intelligence. From you, he will expect nothing less than your best: after all, you are to be judged together, so you'd better fall in line. And yet, there will always be a sense from Zhikath of understanding: he was born to this life, and you were not; he'll let you have time to adjust. And that time? Might well last forever.

As good a student as Zhikath can be, his impatience can also be a significant problem. Flying-that's the thing he wants to do. It's not so much flight itself, though he will take great pleasure in that: it's that Zhikath wants to /see/ things. To /understand/. This desire will extend to his clutchmates, too, for he finds them often quite peculiar, but ultimately fascinating: he reaches out to them first for exploration, and yet may well find himself attached to them as people, too. Despite this, he will be the first to report back to the weyrlingmasters, or worse, the weyrleaders, should rules be broken, or disagreements break out, for there is little he despises more. Negative reactions to this will only confuse him more: rules are rules! He did what was right!

As an adult, Zhikath's control over himself will be far more complete, though there will always be exceptions. He is loyal to his wing, taking pride in the successes of those around him, and will push the pair of you to your best in everything: that, after all, is your duty. He will take great interest in riding sweeps, often finding the most insignificant thing fascinating; and yet, at the same time, no amount of exploration is ever enough. He is restless, always looking for something new, something better. « There should be more, » he will tell you, calmly. « There must be more. » In time, he will take great pleasure in many things, including music and art, though he would prefer that your personal space is kept uncluttered-« We can go and see these things. We don't need them here. »

Despite his love of structure, Zhikath can be a creative thinker when pushed; he would probably have been an asset to threadfighting, had he been hatched earlier. As it is, should he-and you-ever gain rank within the wings, he will be excellent at thinking outside the box in drills and exercises, trying out new things that frequently have a habit of working quite well. He will never go out of his way to anticipate promotion, but should it come, it will be, to his mind at least, because you have earned it, because you're worth it, and he will take great pride in this. His clutchmates will always have a special place in his affections, those bonds lasting well beyond weyrlinghood itself. Nonetheless, while he may begin to understand individuals over time, he will always find dragons as a whole quite baffling, despite his enjoyment-his /fascination/-of them: « Where is the logic? The reason? They do such strange things, W'chek. » At times, he may offend others with his questions, which may well come across as prying, if not insulting. In some ways, Zhikath will always feel different from others, an outsider, looking in.

One of the most obvious times in which Zhikath loses all semblance of control is when it comes to females. There are no two ways about it: he likes them. And he feels guilty about it, about letting them get to him, except that all it takes is a flick of a pretty tail, or a shuffle of some lovely wings before he's head over heels for a new one, green or gold. When it comes to the actual flight, his behavior tends to become increasingly irrational, even to the point of viciousness should another chaser get in his way. Once the flight is over, however, win or lose, he will return almost instantly to his usual self, full of self-loathing for his own lapse, even if he has the mate to make up for it. Should he ever catch a queen, nonetheless, he will consider it his duty to stand by her at all stages of the resulting clutch, whether or not she wishes him to be there; children are, in his opinion, the most important duty one can have-and he will relish it, regardless of circumstance.

At times, W'chek, Zhikath finds you as baffling as anyone else, and yet nothing can stop him from believing in you wholeheartedly. No doubt there will be ups and downs for you both, but there is one thing you will never be able to doubt: he loves you. He needs you. And he wants the best for you. That may not be enough to make life easier, but it's something, right? He sure is something.

Public Impression Message

Loyalty and Logic Bronze angles his path past a group of female candidates his interest in them excited, but purely academic: there's nothing for him there. Past a group of eager boys, his path angles once more, and then an outright turn, and then there's a new certainty in his already confident step. Five steps, six, and then he is there, arching his svelte neck forward so as to meet dark brown eyes with whirling blue.

Private Impression Message

In an instant, everything-and yet, somehow, also nothing-changes. You're still there, on the sands. It's still hot, so very hot. There's no bright light, no sudden darkness, no ceasing of the noise about you, the clamor of candidates and spectators. But in that instant, as those eyes meet yours, there's a meeting of minds, a singing perfection that spreads from nerve-ending to nerve-ending. « I have you, » he says, and it's almost too soon to be comfortable, except that he's so smooth, so certain, and everything that was becomes, in that instant, everything that is, but with /him/. And it's glorious. « I have you, W'chek. » How can something so new feel so right? « I am Zhikath. »

Mindvoice

Unlike some dragons, who prefer to communicate via imagery or emotion, Zhikath prefers to stick to clipped, precise words except on rare occasions when sharing specifics. His mind is cool to the touch, with a subtle gleam like reflecting metal, all very clean, very ordered, very comparmentalised, even when angry; emotions tend to show only within his words, and the timbre of his voice, which gets sharper, and louder, the more emotion he feels. His voice itself is distinctive, naturally musical in a rich, sonorous way, and somehow naturally wise, making him sound instantly as though he knows exactly what he's talking about, even while he's still a weyrling-and especially when he doesn't.

Itchyspots

Even a dragon with as much dignity as Zhikath, can, eventually, succumb to the torments of itching. His particularly bad spots are his eyeridges and about the neckridges, where those tips darken; it will take frequent, diligent attention to keep them taken care of, even into his adult turns. While he will be very calm in requesting an oiling, a scratching, whatever it will take-at first-he can grow increasingly agitated as the itch continues, until he eventually has no choice but to roll around to try and defeat it. Oh, his poor injured dignity! It's probably better, then, to get to them sooner rather than later.

Dragon Inspiration

Zhikath is based off Spock from Star Trek: The Original Series, with just enough Kirk thrown in to shake things up a bit. Spock's internal battle between reason and emotion, and his human and vulcan sides plays off nicely with Kirk's passion and sexuality, and particularly with W'chek's own issues. His description is primarily based off of the Enterprise as seen in the 2009 reboot: sleek, smooth, jokingly referred to as the USS Apple Store, while his name comes from the Vulcan word 'ozhika', which translates to the 'study of logic'. I pronounce it Zi-KATH, but you are, of course, more than welcome to say it however you please.

Egg Inspiration: The "landmines of antiquity," caltrops were sharp barbs, nails, or spikes scattered on the ground used primarily against infantry -- horse, war elephant, and human troops. They're an insidious passive defense, near-impossible to detect until you're right on top of them.