Death Before Dishonor Blue Ilicaeth
| Death Before Dishonor Blue Ilicaeth | |
|---|---|
| Impressee | Alida |
| Hatching Date: | 15 March, 2013 Day 1, Month 4, Turn 31 |
| Current Age: | 37 turns |
| Egg Name: | Bonified To Be Humerus Egg |
| Size: | 26.3 feet |
| Dam: | Conqueror of Worlds Gold Hraedhyth |
| Sire: | Frost and Fisticuffs Brown Szadath |
| Lineage: | Here |
| Clutch: | Clutch:47 |
| Egg Credit: | Azaylia |
| Dragon Credit: | Hatchling name: Brieli / Dragon name: H'kon / Everything else: Leova |
| Puppeteer: | Leova |
%r%tHe might have been carved from blue-sheened stone, if only he'd hold still: a dragon with a broad-shouldered physique, all of him strongly built but for the long and slender tail that likes to move just as much as do his coppery claws. His eyes, too, are quick and splendid, if so deeply shadowed beneath his brows as to be difficult to tell their hue upon a passing glance; the otherwise grayed blue of his hide carries something of their sheen when the light strikes him just so, a fine-grained, indicolite flash. Though his body has a polished air, the irregular ridges down his short, strong neck are darker and rougher, as though from naturally broken stone - while his immense wings carry a gritty sort of opulence, labradorite that shimmers with twin eyes of yellowed bronze upon opalescent teal, like an insect's predator-deceiving disguise.
Contents
Bonified To Be Humerus Egg
This is an egg that demands more than a mere glance, otherwise too easily mistaken for a far more grisly sight. Muddy sockets stare right back from a mottled shell that is stained an unsettling yellow, brown smudges and cracks traversing the bulbous surface. Lined up so prettily beneath jagged spade are off-white tombstones, a grin frozen in time and meant to last til the very end. Only its generous size might put the more gruesome imaginations to rest.
The skull-seeming shell splits right down the middle, as though hewn by some massive axe, only to splinter across the left eye socket and further fragment into thick, yellow-mottled shards. The Bonified To Be Humerus Egg is no more: the Death Before Dishonor blue dragonet spends a bare moment to orient himself before advancing red-eyed upon the candidates, sand already catching at and clinging to his still-sticky paws and wings.
Death Before Dishonor Blue
He might have been carved from blue-sheened stone, if only he'd hold still: a dragonet with the beginnings of a broad-shouldered physique, all of him strongly built but for the long and slender tail that likes to move just as much as do his coppery claws. His eyes, too, are quick and splendid, if so deeply shadowed beneath his brows as to be difficult to tell their hue upon a passing glance; the otherwise grayed blue of his hide carries something of their sheen when the light strikes him just so, a fine-grained, indicolite flash. Though his body has a polished air, the irregular ridges down his short, strong neck are darker and rougher, as though from naturally broken stone - while his immense wings carry a gritty sort of opulence, labradorite that shimmers with twin eyes of yellowed bronze upon opalescent teal, like an insect's predator-deceiving disguise.
Temperament
The thing is, Alida, your newfound partner is a lot like you... except for the times when he's absolutely not. He's your buddy, a laid-back (eventually, anyway) cop with an eye for rules and hierarchy... as well as the social side of life. Call him Lawful Neutral: he'll get the job done, if not always the way people had in mind. While he'll likely develop a strong moral code, it won't necessarily map onto everyone else's, not even yours. But, he has your back. Remember that.
As a weyrling, Ilicaeth isn't all he'll be when grown up. He'll start out sleeping restlessly (and keep you up too) and moving restlessly (does twitching drive you batty? he's really good at it) and in general can't settle down. Is he instructed to sleep in his couch? He'll circle around and around and then flop down into what he thinks will be a comfortable arrangement... only to have something, some intangible itch say it's just not right (something that you'll feel too, because Ilicaeth can't help but share when it's you). Then he has to get up and try again, possibly poking you along the way to sweep his couch again, because there's something irritating his skin, he can feel it. At least he'll listen to the A/WLMs, that's good, right? He sees a benefit in learning things, in working within the hierarchy, and they (and you) will help him shape his moral code. He doesn't like to break rules, does Ilicaeth, even to his own detriment... but that doesn't mean he won't reinterpret, bend, or otherwise meddle with them. Woe betide the AWLM who tells him something that's supposed to be figurative that he takes very literally indeed! A frustrated, "Sit still! And don't go anywhere! Ever!" is apt to lead him to stubbornly sit, and sit, and sit, and sit, until it gets cold and dark and he's shivering and people finally realize what's going on. (That, or he'll entice Isath to countermand the earlier order. He's clever that way.)
To further complicate your life, Ilicaeth is social to the point of being aggressively outgoing, aiming to keep his mental finger on the pulse of the barracks and, later, of the Weyr at large. He'll even want you to find out information for him! He'll start out not having much in the way of filters or tact, and probably will be quite the gossip (or is that interrogator?) until he gets a better handle on the community and realizes that that doesn't exactly lead his comrades to confide in him (though he'll likely find that Rasavyth is always interested in what he's got to say, encouraging and enticing that endless stream of words... but only, surely, for the very best of reasons). He also will start out gullible, at least where adult dragons of any stripe are concerned: if Szadath says it's so, it must be true! Good thing he has a sense of humor: cheeky, sly, sometimes a little too snarky before he realizes he's hurt someone (at least, if that someone isn't a rival), and able to poke fun at himself as well as others.
You're a frequent... beneficiary... of that humor: Ilicaeth adores your energy, your sharpness, your vividness in what otherwise could be a grayscale world. In his eyes, you're bright, shining, and exactly who you need to be. Which doesn't necessarily mean you couldn't get even better, much like honing one of your blades against a gritty stone. Ilicaeth has your best interests in mind... but they're what he sees as your interests, and not necessarily what you do. He listens to you... but doesn't take any guff from you, and after the first few days where you can feel his very real pain, strongly resists your ordering him around (albeit not to Athimeroth's degree: he's more apt to order you around some more in response). Even so, he knows you have your ways, and as in all things, he's pragmatic about learning when to be steadfast and when to be flexible.
Ilicaeth and Athimeroth will likely enjoy each other's company, though there will be times when your blue's sense of humor goes too far for the more serious bronze. At least there's Kazavoth, whose love of stories and entertainment is right up Ilicaeth's alley. Cailluneth, too, is a lot of fun-- he may well appreciate just how easy it is to talk to her, about anything at all, without all those layers of meaning and planning that some of his clutchmates seem so determined to employ-- while Solith's up for just about anything, for all that she hasn't the same code of honor as he. The truth is, he can get along with pretty much any dragon, so long as they don't step on his lines of acceptable behavior. As long as Cailluneth doesn't get angry, and Rasavyth doesn't try and stab him in the (metaphorical) back; so long as Ghislaith doesn't try and unsettle him, and Jhorinth doesn't attempt the claim wisdom he surely can't possibly have... when everyone is behaving themselves, Ilicaeth enjoys his clutchmates very much indeed.
It's too bad you two weren't born in a time of Thread: Ilicaeth would have taken to it well, that clear-cut duty that's nothing like the hierarchy that's so mixed up beyond Isath and Olveraeth. Support the wing: he can do that. Serve honorably: he can do that too (but what's honor anyway?). Support the Weyr most of all (but what is HRW? Is it more than his fellow weyrlings and their masters?). When the day finally comes that a queen and her mate truly take over leadership of the Weyr and their network snaps into place, he'll feel such relief to have settled the instability he may not even have consciously sensed. And as for wing life? Drilling is great. Flying sweeps is great. Which doesn't mean Ilicaeth wants to take on any extra shifts: everyone has to pull their weight, thanks. Sitting watch, well, he can learn to like that too... especially if that means you oil him. (But Thread, that would have been best of all.)
As for flights, it may be reassuring that he's slow to mature, unless you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. It takes Ilicaeth awhile to find glowy greens interesting, and longer yet to really get what it's all about. Still, eventually he'll likely become a frequent chaser, learning tactics from others as he goes along, not afraid to push some of those others around en route to 'his' green... and utterly smug when he finally catches. As for your own alliances? He understands scratching an itch, and doesn't have much more of an interest than that. If you're happy (and the other person doesn't cross any of his lines), he's happy. Nor is Ilicaeth troubled at all that you're female and he's male: you're the partner that clicks, the partner that he needs, and he's confident that you need him too.
In the end, youthful Ilicaeth may sometimes be brittle, but he'll learn to become not only your touchstone but your bedrock. (Of course, he'll always be the pebble in your boot at times. At least yours is a shiny one!)
Public Impression Message
The Death Before Dishonor dragonet steals up to a pair of boys, interrogating them with a series of whuffling snorts that send sand flying and their robe-hems flapping. He looks at them for an unsettling length of time, gauging by the shift in their expressions, though it can't be more than ten seconds and, with every second, that long tail becomes more and more... twitchy. Abruptly he turns and, his gaze lighting upon a pale-haired former guard, advances on her instead. Slowly. She has to know he's coming for her, and he will not be stopped until she's his.
Private Impression Message
Are your keen senses on high alert? Surely they must register the eyes on you, his gaze on you, before you ever meet it with your own. He's coming for you. The light catches glints of blue beneath the sand that's clinging to the dragonet, blue and red for his eyes, blue and blue for his recognition of you. Slowly. It's a slow change of color, a slow infiltration of your thoughts and nerves so that they move slowly too, sand-clogged. A knife won't help you now, not with him. He's got you, and suddenly it's not sand but bedrock beneath your feet, and your thoughts quicken back into realization: you can touch him. He won't claw you, not on purpose. His wings itch, with sand it must be, and if you brush it away he'll feel so much better, Ilicaeth will. Ilicaeth. « Yes. » It's a raspy voice that would be genial if he weren't so new-hatched demanding: yes, he's Ilicaeth. Yes, you're Alida. Yes, this is the most dangerous mission of all.
Mindvoice
Ilicaeth's mindvoice is a dry, dusty, often genial baritone, one that hearkens back to his great-great-grandsire Wyaeth with its more-than-hint of a rasp. His is sandier, though, more of a true desert, one where time and wind sometimes unearth large rocks for certainties or old ghost-fragments of memories (some of which have the blue glitter of treasure). His thoughts may shift beneath another's shove, but even as he yields (or seems to), he remains himself. Though water's efforts tend to seep right through him, sometimes (in a particularly good mood) that sand will resemble the fertile soil dragonriders protect; when pleasantly tired, he might seem like drowsy dust motes that drift lazily down through sunshine. In a more irritating (or irritated) mood, he's the sand in your shoe. And when angry? A dust-storm that could flay hide fo bone if permitted to persist.
Itchyspots
It's not that Ilicaeth has itchy spots, particularly, or at least not spots that stay constant beyond the overall sense of 'growing out of his hide, need more oil stat.' It's more that he's triggered by what's been touching him, whether it's a pebble in the couch, an accidental shoulder-scrape on the rock, or even his straps later on. His glorious wings tend to flake and peel if they don't get to soak up lots and lots of oil, but he doesn't tend to notice them itching more than usual. Maybe you'll be more observant!
Final Size
26.3
Inspiration
Stone is Ilicaeth's element: the stone he suns on, the stone caves that keep him warm, the stone/silica of his name, the stone-made-sand of his thoughts. Which isn't to say he'll always keep you between his rock and a hard place, nor will he be the immovable object to anyone's irresistible force. Rather, Ilicaeth's the fine sand that seeps through cracks and collects in your thoughts like the sand you find in your clothes for days and days and days after going to the beach, some of it deceptively plain and some of it sparkly... until you forget what it was like to live any other way. (Luckily, he's also not only a rock to lean on, but a rock upon which to stand and see the world.)
Egg Inspiration: Calcium makes me think milk, which makes me think bones, which leads to... a skull. Are you really surprised? ;) And you know I had to make it punny!
| Clutch 47 | |
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