Rachel and Gaenor Aug 4, 2013 19:32:04 GMT -5
Post by Krisley on Aug 4, 2013 19:32:04 GMT -5
Name: Rachel Renolds
Primary Draconium Influence: Black
Secondary Draconium Influences: Blue, Purple, Red, White
Allegiance: Dragon City
Occupation: Stable Hand/ Runner
Description: Rachel is a rather unassuming young woman of 5’1”, with brown hair worn cropped short against her scalp and eyes of a close shade. She’s not the sort to mind how hours in the sun have tanned her medium toned skin or lightened her hair, nor care how a good sunburn brings out a few freckles. With a rounded, gentle face, Rachel pretty much looks the picture of a good country stable hand.
In fact, when coupled with her habit of wearing practical, rather neutral clothing, she’s often mistaken for a boy; her shape is not particularly curvy to give it away, and the hard work her position demands stripped away any excess years ago. She’s also rather stocky. From time to time she will clean herself up and wear dresses and the like, and the change can be a bit startling, coming from the ‘local lad’. Rachel likes to plan these occurrences for that very effect, as she does know something of looking pretty.
Her mannerism are generally submissive in nature, but that doesn’t mean she won’t stiffen and meet someone’s eyes belligerently when she has need, and in these instances she loses much of her apparent simpleness.
Personality: On the surface, Rachel appears to be a very polite individual of a rather servile nature. She works hard and long, accomplishing her tasks to the best of her ability, and accepts criticism generally without a word. She takes her pay, makes little fuss, and doesn’t often complain. In truth, she does have an independent mind of her own, and a core of steel born from a difficult life. She takes such harsh words with a smile and a nod as a means of getting by, as she hates to cause ripples, and because very rarely does anyone notice a ‘servant’- which is just how she likes it. When everyone overlooks you, no one focusses on you as a target, is her reasoning, and it’s far easier just to live.
As a result of growing up in Dark Town, she reached maturity at an early age, and her sense of both responsibility and loyalty are highly defined. Her hard work is no act, as it was her ability to labour and learn that marked her escape from the twilight levels, and she feels she must repay the kindness showed to her by the stable owner. Rachel hates seeing a job shirked, and with sometimes take it upon herself to finish it, since it seems like a betrayal of the contract between employee-employer.
One of Rachel’s life goals is to become someone to be proud of, whose children won’t have to live as she did, and seeing ties to that life makes her cold and distant. Playing a stable fool has its merits, and she’ll still remain generally friendly, but seeing injustice and the like burns her. She survived by playing it cautious and not falling into the pits her father did, and that meant turning a blind eye to things she couldn’t help at the time. Now that she’s in a better position to affect change, she hates looking away, even if she still can’t reasonably do anything.
At its worst, her anger translates as a simmering glare with a cold, sarcastic voice, and pleasantly fake smile. She dislikes when it reaches this point, however, as her wording can be both poor and sharp, and she feels it’s better not to let upset slip out. Anger is memorable, after all.
Other notable traits of hers include a hunger for knowledge, generally being friendly despite making few true friends, and quiet persistence. She can also be somewhat stubborn, in an understated way, and her patience is rather deep.
History: At some point before Rachel was born, her parents lived a fairly decent life in Fair Town as merchants. For all she could tell from fragments of pictures, it was a happy time, but something happened while her mother was pregnant that dragged the young couple down into the dangers of the Dark Town. Rachel never received an answer if her mother died in childbirth, from an illness while she was an infant, or if she just left- her tight-lipped father was all she knew, and as she grew older, he started spending more time away from home.
As the pictures attested, she looked a lot like her mother. She couldn’t blame him; even as a little girl she knew he was hurting.
What she did start to do, however, was grow impatient. Too many nights were spent without dinner, without heat, with head held low and breath hitched in fear of being discovered by /them./ Who the ‘them’ was depended on the day- it was usually muscle looking in on tabs, although a few times she had to cram herself away beneath the floor and pray the purples did not hear the beating of her panicked heart, while her father led a merry chase or stayed far away.
Once she was tall and strong enough, she started asking for work. Many laughed in her face, or else requested a different sort than she was willing to give, but when she discovered many couldn’t tell her for a girl if she acted right, she had some success. Being a messenger runner for those too poor for tracker dragons was pretty lucrative, for example, by Dark Town standards. The only problem came when her father found out and, being a loyal daughter, she handed over her meager savings for the benefit of them both.
It was still never enough. She saw him even more rarely, and nothing changed except the frequency of the doorknockers.
Eventually she gave up, cut the ties, and took up the permanent runner position long offered by one of her most trusted employers, where in time her responsibilities there grew as she showed competence with the stabled beasts. WydleHeart Stables was a conditioning circuit for untrained dragons or unstable ones, with minor side facilities for boarding and breeding, located in a decent area of Fair Town. It was the step up she had long yearned for.
Rachel later received, months after leaving and finally starting to settle, a notice from the police stating her father had been found outside a bar with a drakkal shoved down his throat. She was 18. Perhaps this was the defining factor that lead, shortly after, to her confrontation with the stable owner.
She all but sold herself into slavery with the promise that she would stand by and help tend the injured hybrid that had been found along their training route down on the floor, taking a cut to her pay for whatever it needed for however long it lived. She nearly broke, simply clinging to the one thing that made sense, however illogical not wanting a crippled beast to die actually was.
It was a good thing the stable owner had a heart. Hoping the beast’s good lines could truly be put to use, he ordered it to be cared for, and waved her offer aside by simply saying she would make it up over time, instead.
Today, Rachel works with Gaenor as a messenger runner, helping out as a stable hand when needed, and together they utilize the hybrid’s diversity to challenge the dragons they condition. Sometimes they also enter races as rabbits, where they run not to win but to distract, and help the odds of their companion racer.
Name: Gaenor [Gah-eh-nor; Gay-nor]
Size: Small, 15 hands at the shoulder.
Bone Color: Hybrid; Primarily black with white as a secondary, but overall muddied.
Description: Gaenor is distinctly lithe, but at the same time rather stockier than purebred quad blacks. Her reach is just as long, though, if not as springy due to the length of her body and false leg. Her chest is deep and snout somewhat stubby, with flat bone fins rising up alongside each side of her head and towards the end of her tail; her overall looks are otherwise understated. Her main scales are a light grey-blue, bordering on toned purple, with darker patches along the bridge of her nose and head fins, tail, and down her nape. Her eyes are a pale yellow.
Missing her front left leg just after the ‘knee’ joint, the prosthetic limb she wears is attached via mag-energy as well as straps, which loop around her stomach and chest, and is composed primarily of a dark metal. Due to this leg, and her limited mag-energy, Gaenor wears her saddle centered over her shoulders instead of behind her head, where Rachel might better see, as it is more easily balanced and less demanding of the dragon.
Pale scars can be seen along her left side and, when the prosthetic is off, along her stump, where scales no longer grow and the flesh is generally tender. Her left cheek bears a few scratches where the damage was not enough to prompt shedding.
As a direct contrast to Rachel’s more subservient body language, Gaenor always holds her head high and keeps her tail from the dust, not giving an inch when meeting another’s gaze. She may be missing a leg, but her stance always remains sure and she tends to put that false leg forward like a challenge, turning so it’s in full view.
[Image does not include scars, but sketches will be soon scanned to show how the leg straps on and whereabouts the marks are.]
Personality: As a former wild, Gaenor is... proud, to say the least. She takes liberty as her due and isn’t very quick to listen, which is part of the reason she was so injured, truth be told. She’s also rash, judgemental, and exceedingly picky about whom she trusts and what exactly constitutes ‘trust’. It’s not uncommon for her to eye a medium breed and think that yes, handicap and all, she could take them if they made a move- that’s just the type of dragon she is, always looking for the shadows to a light.
That said, she remains incredibly loyal to those she does accept, and will allow them to convince her of things she wouldn’t let others do. For example, the only reason she permits riders other than Rachel on her back is because the girl explained the reasons of it, and that is was necessary for those times when they had separate duties. She doesn’t like it, of course, but she stretches her trust to allow it, and can see the logic of it.
Gaenor can be stubborn, but she’s really not stupid. Posture she might, but she won’t fight a battle she knows in her heart she won’t win - unless it’s absolutely necessary to survival that she try - and would rather flee to brawl another day. If a situation is hopeless, she will submit, pride be damned. She loves life too much to risk it again in a pointless show of arrogance, however much she seeks to hide this ‘weakness’ of hers.
Unlike her rider, this dragon prefers to make an impact, and to those who understand, possesses a wry, sarcastic type of wit. She’ll never admit to liking quiet moments, and will rarely show how much she cares for those she’s given her trust to.