Difference between revisions of "Dragon:Rasavyth"

Latest revision as of 10:42, 16 December 2015

He's physically unimposing, this slight and slender bronze, the kind of dragon who could so easily have been outright skinny were it not for the natural arch of his neck and the tailored curve of his narrow body. The red-bronze of oxidized cinnabar sweeps across him: upon the aristrocratic bent of his long, sharp face and pointed chin, where he wears his distant lineage so distinctly; up and down each sculpted neckridge; and all the way to the tip of that tail that has such a tendency to probe and pace behind him. Except in flight, he wears his dark, dulled-bronze wings tight, furled like a cloak-- and yet, outstretched, his wingspan is impressive for his size, those wingsails abruptly lustrous as their deep sheen catches any available light.

Cheap Bauble Egg

There are those colors that aren't really colors at all but just ever-shifting plays of light. Such is the shell of one small, pale egg: not quite white, overlain with a silvery sheen that breaks into regular facets across its sides. From the base, a few yellowed fingers reach upward, crooked and uneven, as though to hold it in a shoddy pronged grasp.

The shoddy grasp of those finger-like patterns upon the Cheap Bauble Egg breaks with a snap, faceted patterns in their not-quite-white sheen sent scattering as the egg falls to pieces. The hatchling left behind draws his wings more closely about him, lifting his narrow head to regard the world with interest. So this is what's out here!

Alchemist's Prize Bronze

He's physically unimposing, this slight and slender bronze, the kind of dragon who could so easily have been outright skinny were it not for the natural arch of his neck and the tailored curve of his narrow body. The red-bronze of oxidized cinnabar sweeps across him: upon the aristrocratic bent of his long, sharp face and pointed chin, where he wears his distant lineage so distinctly; up and down each sculpted neckridge; and all the way to the tip of that tail that has such a tendency to probe and pace behind him. Except in flight, he wears his dark, dulled-bronze wings tight, furled like a cloak-- and yet, outstretched, his wingspan is impressive for his size, those wingsails abruptly lustrous as their deep sheen catches any available light.

Temperament

A person might be forgiven for automatically assuming that Rasavyth is one of Iesaryth's progeny, for there's nothing in his outward appearance or charming personality that speaks at all of Hraedhyth or Szadath; he's controlled and composed, subtle, where they are anything but. And yet, one need only go back a single generation to see the links: icy Iovniath, ambitious Ysavaeth. He's the product of his lineage, but he's also a self-made dragon, learning the world from day one of his life. Learning how to win it.

And yet he's everyone's friend, at least on the surface. He's a fine listener (though you might find your mind overwhelmed with details you may not care to know, K'zin; you're his secret keeper, holder of all knowledge), the kind of dragon who can talk his way into (or out of) anything. He likes to gather friends and favors, anything that might be helpful, one day, as he plays his game of... what? Even you, K'zin, may struggle to understand. Let's face it: Rasavyth is smarter than you are. He won't be boastful about it, he won't rub it in... it's just one of those facts of life that he expects you to simply accept and understand. With others, however, he's less bothered: it may even seem at times as though he likes being underestimated, though his eventual quiet competence will certainly give away some of the game.

He'll still fumble as a weyrling, though. In fact, there is something about his childish self that will always seem somehow behind. He's not athletic-- he will likely grow into himself and be graceful, but his slight build and somewhat oversized wings make for an uneasy combination in the early days. He's liable to try and over-extend himself, physically and socially. It's not that he's the type to try and fly before he's ready, but rather that in his quest to prove how much better he is, to win, he's not necessarily able to pick his battles appropriately. He is inclined to learn from his mistakes, though: once he knows that Jhorinth is simply larger and stronger, he's unlikely to challenge him to a race a second time... at least, not a straightaway. Indeed, it's these lessons that will likely push him into more underhanded, sly means of getting what he wants. Sadly, he'll also take lessons in other ways: how to (subtly, so very subtly) provoke Cailluneth's temper, how to bewilder Athimeroth.

As he grows more conscious of his strengths and weaknesses, Rasavyth's interests will shift. He acknowledges the need for drills and formalized lessons, but finds them dreary-- a waste of time, for him, when he could be doing so much more (what, exactly, he's not sure-- he just knows that there's something). He'll find the interest that others (such as Isicath) take in these things quietly bemusing; at times, he won't be able to help a snide remark, nice on the surface and yet, beneath... His words, so outwardly benign, can often hold a sharp sting. Should you get the chance to lead the weyrling wing, he'll enjoy that rather more: it's the perfect opportunity to show how useful he can be, so much more efficient, focused and creative than so many others. His weyrlingmasters will likely see him as a 'good kid,' as it were, but there's just something about him. It's not that he's a troublemaker, even, despite the way he likes to sneak out at night, and talk when he's supposed to be sleeping, and make those covetous glances towards the belongings of others (especially Kazavoth's, whose interest in nice things he does tend to share)... it's just something.

As the borders of his world expand, Rasavyth will begin to feel them out, learning the dynamics and politics of the Weyr into which he has been born. You, K'zin, are the first of his pawns: a pair of listening ears, and (to his mind, affectionately intended) outwardly harmless. He will be fascinated by the precarious political situation, and will likely fix his mind upon the weyrleadership from a young age. Should the next queen to rise do so while he is still a weyrling, don't be surprised if he throws himself into the mix-- a miscalculation, perhaps, but one he takes absolutely seriously. In this, he and Athimeroth are similar, although unlike the larger bronze, he will become steadily more cautious of revealing his plans.

Once he's awakened to the world of greens and golds, expect Rasavyth to chase often: there's something about the physical and even emotional release of it that appeals to him, for when he loses he's still gotten a chance to vent some of his pent-up steam for the female and against the males, and when he does win, it's even better. Unlike some bronzes, he enjoys green flights and can be expected to participate in them on a relatively regular basis, though he's inclined toward a more love-them-and-leave-them attitude (with rare exceptions) if he catches them. Greens are a outlet, a chance to hone his skills without pressure (and should he say or even imply as much to them, he's likely to be surprised by the intensity of the reactions he might receive). Golds, however, are something more-- even junior queens are a stepping stone towards power, and a way to remind the Weyr of his prowess and potential. He'll be a dutiful, if distant, mate should he catch... though should he ever sire a queen, he'll be as unrestrainedly pleased as perhaps he's ever been. His failures he will be inclined to brood over for as long as he remembers them - though thankfully, that is never terribly long.

As a wingrider, Rasavyth will take no real joy in traditional duties. Drills are tedious, and underuse his talents, and the only good thing about sweeps is that they give him plenty of thinking time-- and, very occasionally, a piece of information here and there. He will, however, do his best to be indispensable to his wingleader, whether it be by mentoring newer additions to the wing, being seen to cater to trusting oldsters, or even subtly making sure everyone shows up on time. As he gets older, he will become increasingly ruthless: genial to one's face, ready and willing to use them behind their back, heedless of the consequences for them. You may, in time, learn ways to redirect his darker intentions, but it will take enormous strength of will and character. He'll be surprised, but peculiarly pleased, if you manage it: « Why, K'zin, I do believe you're learning. »

He'll push you towards obtaining rank: Wingsecond, Wingleader, perhaps even Assistant Weyrlingmaster if nothing else is forthcoming. He has his eye on the big job, of course, but he's willing to wait-- he is patient. This is the long game, the one that will be played for the rest of your lives. In the meantime, there's work to be done. He's detail-oriented: the way you cut your hair will matter, as will the clothes you wear. His straps. The oil you use on him. Where your weyr is located. How you decorate it. Who you consort with. Especially who you consort with... and how you do so. Do you enjoy being yelled at like a small child? He'll do it, if he feels he must: if he's sure the person you're talking to is leading you astray, or worse, distracting you from his eventual goals.

He does love you. He's overwhelming, difficult, astoundingly clever, and utterly ruthless, and he loves and cares about almost no one-- except for you. He chose you, remember, and even if it can be hard going sometimes, there will also be those other times when it's just the pair of you, making tasteless jokes at each other or just shooting the breeze. Together, you can see the world (he'll like that... as much as he likes anything).

Public Impression Message

Watching, waiting, the Alchemist's Prize Bronze probes at the sand in front of him with one foot, testing his balance - and the placement of his wings - before he's willing to actually make another move. Behind him, his tail twitches, shifting this way and that, and abruptly sending him turning off into a different direction. One step, two, a third, and then? He tilts his head up, seeking out the warm brown eyes of a (now former) Smith. His.

Private Impression Message

It starts with a tremor in your hands, and then a burning itch that spreads up your arms. There's a strange, metallic taste on your tongue, and you're dizzy - is it euphoria? Delirium? Quicksilver oozes over you (a hallucination?), sending prickles across your skin, and through your heart which, abruptly, begins to beat in time with another. In all this confusion, only one thing is definite (or is it?): Rasavyth has found you, now. He's fixed those incisive eyes upon you, and stares up with absolute certainty. « You're mine, K'zin, » he says, in a voice that is low and clear, a balm to the confusion of this moment, clearing it all away to leave you with only this. « For always. »

Mindvoice

There's something terribly measured and precise about Rasavyth's mindvoice: he tends to pick each word very, very carefully, and say them with a faint edge of humor that may lead some people to believe he's mocking them... even when he's not (though he often is). He's restrained in his mental imagery, preferring to hold it back for moments of intensity, all the better to shock another into submission (with a spark) or simply ooze into their peripheral thoughts, like beautiful, dangerous quicksilver. He has a surprising talent for mimicry, and has a habit of picking up the imagery favored by his peers, all the better to make them feel quite at home, and perfectly comfortable.

Itchyspots

With his compact, narrow build, Rasavyth will never be the largest of bronzes, but he still has plenty of growing to do, and as his body expands, so too will his itches. Like his dam, and her dam before her (so there is some family resemblance, after all!), he'll itch about the headknobs; like that granddam, he'll also itch at the base of each talon, where his hide seems terribly prone to drying up and pulling away. He's largely too dignified to squirm (much), but do expect to feel his dismay, steadily growing, should those itches go unattended.

Final Size

35.5

Inspiration

Rasavyth's 'element' is quicksilver, also known as mercury (Atomic number 80 and Hg on the periodic table) - and the only metal that is liquid at a standard temperature. It's pretty, and was once believed, by alchemists, to be the 'first metal' from which all others were formed. It's also poisonous, especially with prolonged contact, all of which works rather nicely with his inspiration of Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish from G. R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Littlefinger is ruthless, charismatic, determined, and utterly devious... and we couldn't think of anything more perfect for K'zin. His name comes the Sanskrit word for alchemy, 'Rasavatam', which translates directly to 'the way of mercury'.

Egg Inspiration: Zirconium, which makes me think of cubic zirconia, costume jewelry and possibly old ladies.

Clutches

Rasavyth has produced 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, and 3 green dragons.