Post by daesiggil on Oct 25, 2009 12:33:19 GMT -5
From the other site
Username: DaeSiggil
Other Characters: None yet
Character Name: Creline
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Hetero/bi-curious
Rank: Masterharper
Craft Specialty: Harp
Current Residence: Where ever his feet takes him! (but he's found often at the Weyr)
Appearance: He looks most unusual, thin and lanky, almost like a tall teenager standing slightly smaller than 6 foot. His hair, coming to mid-back in dark waves is mostly pulled back in a ponytail by a grey colored, leather string, grey silver lines his hair already, showing that he slowly becomes older, unthanks his well 'preserved' body. His green eyes promise many things and are always seeming to challenge someone to come and get some of him. He dresses in dark clothes that make his quite pale skin, that doesn't seem to tan in the sun unthanks his constant travelling, stand out. Only if he stands for a large group of people he is found in brighter clothes, possible if they clash with each other! Causing amusement and even horror in some.
His voice is maybe the most surprising, it doesn't sound like you think it would, rough and ungodly. The opposite is true, although it is rough it also has a silky quality, that can't belong to a mortal, that wraps around you and make mothers pull their daughters back and protect them from this obvious 'heart-breaker'. His voice is trained from his years as an apprentice and all love to hear it. Yet if he wants to it can carry a harsh tone that can make almost want to cower before him and apology for something that they did. There still seems to be an edge to it that none can deny if he wants it to be heard.
His hands are large with thin fingers, perfect to play on a harp or if the situation calls for it, wrap around someone's throat. He seems weak, but looks can fool as is obvious by the strength he carries in silence. As he's dressed in dark clothes most of the time he can move around unseen, footsteps making no sound, making him unheard too, giving him a huge advantage to everyone, or so he likes to think.
His face is well shaped, yet maybe a bit on the to thin side. Showing that he was underfed once and never got the lost weight back. His features a bit gaunt don't make him less attractive, it rather makes him stand out in a 'positive' way. His eyebrows are thin and arched, slightly manipulated to look that way, else they would have been like large caterpillars above his eyes. His lips are thin and look evenly in the distance, only if you look closer one can see that they are a bit too plump to belong to a man, perfectly kissable.
Personality: He could be described as a wise man, yet never using the knowledge he has gathered up to any use. He's carefree and laughs often, although those emotions never reach his eyes, only when he feels relaxed, something that doesn't happen often. The shock he had felt when he heard that every Weyr was empty, along with the reason of why had made him like this along with other reasons he doesn't talk of. Just like his nice side he's know for the bursts of anger he sometimes falls in, or cruelness. Whatever you want to call it. Though he always gives a 'warning' before he becomes like that. He silences in a frosty silence and his face becomes a cold mask.
He doesn't make friends easily, thrust difficult to gain and easily lost. But it isn't impossible to regain it, only very hard. If they can manage to get back to becoming his friends they will be handled with a reserved air, he may forgive but forget he may never. He plays with the minds of men and women alike if he feels the need for it, if he needs something for example. He doesn't feel remorse afterwards, the only emotion that have seemed to be wiped entirely of him.
He also never speaks outright what he means, speaking back against his carefree nature. And if he does speak outright, he contradicts himself, a weird habit he has created along with the manipulating. He will only relax if he has finally created the song that She had requested of him, making him crack his mind open on, evening after evening when he's alone and free from pretending and being social.
If one where to crack and pry the shell of him, they would find the shy person he really is, trying to hide behind everything he finds to protect him. That sums him up pretty much, although there are still many secrets hidden, secrets he wouldn't say to anyone, secrets no one knows of anymore besides him, secrets that would stay in the family. It doesn't stop him however to find two apprentices that can take over his position once he's gone.
When sane enough he can be found along M'tor to gently guide him, then and only then using the knowledge he has, having a surprisingly sharp insight on what happens around him and how he can use it in his advantage.
Unthanks his few friends he is very lonely and searches for someone that he can share his life with, preferable someone that can give him children, someday.
History: Being found abandoned he has no idea who his biological parents were, only nightmares that to the day of today still plague him with darkness, screams and other unpleasant things. He was three then, maybe four. He was late in everything; walking, talking and others where done around the age of five, were others would play around already; screaming and running. He didn't mind, never having felt the pull to play together with them. Foster parents were of course concerned for the child they had received in their care, but when he started to speak his first words, the tension that they didn't realize they had eased, everything progressed quickly then. He took his first small steps, laughed often, eyes glistering in humor.
Those were wiped out when he saw his foster parents being killed, he was playing the harp then, his care givers having seen how much he loved the simple instrument as he hummed softly. He doesn't shame himself to admit that he cried then. He ran away from the demons he knew would surely haunt him. He landed in the Benden Weyr, some took pity on the lost child and took care of him, although could not openly adopt him as they were riders. They learned him slowly how to express emotions again, although one seemed to never come back, regret for things that he wasn't supposed to do. It even went faster when he met M'tor, known in those days as Malkitor then, years on years later. He was maybe twenty-five, in the budding friendship he learned a lot that he had forgot.
Not long ago he was there when he heard that the other Weyrs stood and left, leaving them alone in fighting thread. He had of course demanded an answer, having not know why they had done that, had they simple forgotten that they still had thread to fight too? Alone in his anger and confusion he seethed in his chamber. He also, unthanks the confusion he obvious felt, still had the need to compose the song she had ordered out of him. He would wait and see what will come out of it, waiting and pretending like he did so many years already, till the day he could carry his legacy down on his children.
Pets: None
RP Example: The thin male carried himself silently across the hall he was situated in. His green eyes, lowered lightly as to avoid eye-contact and a pause in his way coming. He sighed his relief when the cold air of early evening caressed his skin. A noise alerted him from someone next to him and he looked over, only to see a small animal, maybe a flit, shoot away to hide into the shadows. A small, thin and maybe a tad amused smile lifted his lips and he shook his head "Crazy things." He murmured, letting the tones carry in the wind and be unheard to anyone but him. He waited for someone to come by, but the chill would keep everyone inside. He was maybe not waiting for someone, but preferring to stay alone? The mysteries of one's mind, he mused.
He didn't mind once that he was alone, while brushing a hand through his already grey-streaked hair he looked around even more. A hand landed on his shoulder and he froze briefly, before the familiar warmth seeped through his clothes "Hey." He greeted, not moving his gaze, the hand removed himself, but his side was soon warmed by the same warmth "How're you holding up?" The voice of one of his few friends asked. He dipped his head "As always." He replied, he liked the other, the man never beats around the bush, going straight forwards through everything that stood in his way.
Username: DaeSiggil
Other Characters: None yet
Character Name: Creline
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Hetero/bi-curious
Rank: Masterharper
Craft Specialty: Harp
Current Residence: Where ever his feet takes him! (but he's found often at the Weyr)
Appearance: He looks most unusual, thin and lanky, almost like a tall teenager standing slightly smaller than 6 foot. His hair, coming to mid-back in dark waves is mostly pulled back in a ponytail by a grey colored, leather string, grey silver lines his hair already, showing that he slowly becomes older, unthanks his well 'preserved' body. His green eyes promise many things and are always seeming to challenge someone to come and get some of him. He dresses in dark clothes that make his quite pale skin, that doesn't seem to tan in the sun unthanks his constant travelling, stand out. Only if he stands for a large group of people he is found in brighter clothes, possible if they clash with each other! Causing amusement and even horror in some.
His voice is maybe the most surprising, it doesn't sound like you think it would, rough and ungodly. The opposite is true, although it is rough it also has a silky quality, that can't belong to a mortal, that wraps around you and make mothers pull their daughters back and protect them from this obvious 'heart-breaker'. His voice is trained from his years as an apprentice and all love to hear it. Yet if he wants to it can carry a harsh tone that can make almost want to cower before him and apology for something that they did. There still seems to be an edge to it that none can deny if he wants it to be heard.
His hands are large with thin fingers, perfect to play on a harp or if the situation calls for it, wrap around someone's throat. He seems weak, but looks can fool as is obvious by the strength he carries in silence. As he's dressed in dark clothes most of the time he can move around unseen, footsteps making no sound, making him unheard too, giving him a huge advantage to everyone, or so he likes to think.
His face is well shaped, yet maybe a bit on the to thin side. Showing that he was underfed once and never got the lost weight back. His features a bit gaunt don't make him less attractive, it rather makes him stand out in a 'positive' way. His eyebrows are thin and arched, slightly manipulated to look that way, else they would have been like large caterpillars above his eyes. His lips are thin and look evenly in the distance, only if you look closer one can see that they are a bit too plump to belong to a man, perfectly kissable.
Personality: He could be described as a wise man, yet never using the knowledge he has gathered up to any use. He's carefree and laughs often, although those emotions never reach his eyes, only when he feels relaxed, something that doesn't happen often. The shock he had felt when he heard that every Weyr was empty, along with the reason of why had made him like this along with other reasons he doesn't talk of. Just like his nice side he's know for the bursts of anger he sometimes falls in, or cruelness. Whatever you want to call it. Though he always gives a 'warning' before he becomes like that. He silences in a frosty silence and his face becomes a cold mask.
He doesn't make friends easily, thrust difficult to gain and easily lost. But it isn't impossible to regain it, only very hard. If they can manage to get back to becoming his friends they will be handled with a reserved air, he may forgive but forget he may never. He plays with the minds of men and women alike if he feels the need for it, if he needs something for example. He doesn't feel remorse afterwards, the only emotion that have seemed to be wiped entirely of him.
He also never speaks outright what he means, speaking back against his carefree nature. And if he does speak outright, he contradicts himself, a weird habit he has created along with the manipulating. He will only relax if he has finally created the song that She had requested of him, making him crack his mind open on, evening after evening when he's alone and free from pretending and being social.
If one where to crack and pry the shell of him, they would find the shy person he really is, trying to hide behind everything he finds to protect him. That sums him up pretty much, although there are still many secrets hidden, secrets he wouldn't say to anyone, secrets no one knows of anymore besides him, secrets that would stay in the family. It doesn't stop him however to find two apprentices that can take over his position once he's gone.
When sane enough he can be found along M'tor to gently guide him, then and only then using the knowledge he has, having a surprisingly sharp insight on what happens around him and how he can use it in his advantage.
Unthanks his few friends he is very lonely and searches for someone that he can share his life with, preferable someone that can give him children, someday.
History: Being found abandoned he has no idea who his biological parents were, only nightmares that to the day of today still plague him with darkness, screams and other unpleasant things. He was three then, maybe four. He was late in everything; walking, talking and others where done around the age of five, were others would play around already; screaming and running. He didn't mind, never having felt the pull to play together with them. Foster parents were of course concerned for the child they had received in their care, but when he started to speak his first words, the tension that they didn't realize they had eased, everything progressed quickly then. He took his first small steps, laughed often, eyes glistering in humor.
Those were wiped out when he saw his foster parents being killed, he was playing the harp then, his care givers having seen how much he loved the simple instrument as he hummed softly. He doesn't shame himself to admit that he cried then. He ran away from the demons he knew would surely haunt him. He landed in the Benden Weyr, some took pity on the lost child and took care of him, although could not openly adopt him as they were riders. They learned him slowly how to express emotions again, although one seemed to never come back, regret for things that he wasn't supposed to do. It even went faster when he met M'tor, known in those days as Malkitor then, years on years later. He was maybe twenty-five, in the budding friendship he learned a lot that he had forgot.
Not long ago he was there when he heard that the other Weyrs stood and left, leaving them alone in fighting thread. He had of course demanded an answer, having not know why they had done that, had they simple forgotten that they still had thread to fight too? Alone in his anger and confusion he seethed in his chamber. He also, unthanks the confusion he obvious felt, still had the need to compose the song she had ordered out of him. He would wait and see what will come out of it, waiting and pretending like he did so many years already, till the day he could carry his legacy down on his children.
Pets: None
RP Example: The thin male carried himself silently across the hall he was situated in. His green eyes, lowered lightly as to avoid eye-contact and a pause in his way coming. He sighed his relief when the cold air of early evening caressed his skin. A noise alerted him from someone next to him and he looked over, only to see a small animal, maybe a flit, shoot away to hide into the shadows. A small, thin and maybe a tad amused smile lifted his lips and he shook his head "Crazy things." He murmured, letting the tones carry in the wind and be unheard to anyone but him. He waited for someone to come by, but the chill would keep everyone inside. He was maybe not waiting for someone, but preferring to stay alone? The mysteries of one's mind, he mused.
He didn't mind once that he was alone, while brushing a hand through his already grey-streaked hair he looked around even more. A hand landed on his shoulder and he froze briefly, before the familiar warmth seeped through his clothes "Hey." He greeted, not moving his gaze, the hand removed himself, but his side was soon warmed by the same warmth "How're you holding up?" The voice of one of his few friends asked. He dipped his head "As always." He replied, he liked the other, the man never beats around the bush, going straight forwards through everything that stood in his way.