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Name: Z'aal
Age: Teenager
Gender: Male
Sexual identity/orientation: Male; females and males
Species/Type: P*nese human
Place of Birth: A hold beholden to DragonHope Weyr
Place of Residence: We're Rococo
Rank/Craft: Healer, apprentice with interest in dragons
Duties:Currently his duties are focused on his dragon and being a wingrider in a completely new environment. To a lesser extent, he helps with the healers. His duties have been to help out the journeymen by brewing up numbweed, and helping out during surgeries (providing towels, hot water, and tools) as needed. He also goes out on walks to collect herbs, and delivers messages from the healers elsewhere throughout the Weyr.
Sponsorling(s): None assigned
Bond(s): Lefpath
Lifemate(s): None
Pet(s): None
Others of note:
| Agency | Title/Number | Chased (by) | Caught (by) | Eggs, viable/fatalities (#, #:#) |
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| Viable Offspring | Mate |
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| Current Gen | Parents | Grandparents | Great Grandparents | Great Great Grandparents |
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Z'dre (Zendrell) Greenrider of Oblacith Z'aal (Zemaal) Bluerider of Lefpath | Commyna Greenrider of Salnith |
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| Z'rel Bluerider of Datrevth; dec |
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Hair: Zemaal has straight, short strawberry-blond hair (slightly reddish with light-blond highlights) with a longer fringe that falls in his eyes.
Skin/exoskeleton/scales/markings:Naturally pale skin, dotted with freckles along his round cheeks and nose.
Limbs: One head, two arms, two legs, no tail.
Eyes: Innocent, sparkling blue-green eyes.
Size/Physique: He is not very tall, but wiry and energetic from running in the halls all his life as a weyrbrat, and his fingers are nimble, a good quality to have in the healing craft.
Other: Being a weyrbrat, Zemaal always wore hand-me-downs and hasn't really developed a taste for any particular fashion. His shoes usually didn't quite fit and his shirts and trousers usually a little baggy. After graduation as a weyrling, he has enough marks to his name to wear shoes that fit, and clothing that are trimmed nicely to his body (comfortable but not baggy!).
First: .
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None: none
Attitude: Exuding a sunny disposition almost constantly, Zemaal has been known to go out of his way to cheer somebody up, even if he doesn't know them very well. Because of his desire to help others, the he seemed a good candidate to help out in the Weyr's infirmary. He is able to get over the less ideal aspects of healing (surgery, needles, blood) rather quickly, and since Impressing, looks forward to branching out into dragon healing.
Hobbies: He likes to study, in his spare time.
Plans: He recently started studying Dragon Healing and intends to get his mastery one day.
Zendrell and Zemaal have always been "children of the Weyr." The result of a Mating Flight between a bluerider named Z'rel on blue Datrevth (dah trehvth), and a greenrider named Commyna (cohm een ah) on green Salnith (sahl nihth), Zemaal was given up soon after he was born. Zendrell maintains that he is the offspring of one of the weyr healers, a more steady love-interest of Z'rel's that decided to nurse both boys. Eventually, though they had become milk brothers as well as half-brother, it doesn't really matter who the boys are related to, since like so many weyrbrats, they were raised by the Weyr in general. Neither has ever been close to his parents personally, even though he knew who they were.
After a tragedy that took the lives of so many riders during Threadfall, including their own bluerider father, Zemaal mourned outwardly with the rest of the Weyr, but was up with his brother the very next morning helping people cope. Since then, he has tried to keep the loss of his father hidden from his expression in favor of a more optimistic smile. Zendrell never had any special feelings for Z'rel, though his empathy for Zemaal has helped the younger boy through many hard times.
The boys, together with two other brothers, Pyotr and Ilviylir, have been escorted by a Searchrider to DragonHope. DragonHope's are their first hatchings to Stand at, though ever since they were old enough, Zendrell and Zemaal have enjoyed coming to watch one. In his spare time, Zemaal has spent many sevendays and candlemarks into the night studying up on dragons and their care in preparation for a possible Impression, and his eventual move over to the dragonhealing craft. Zendrell is not sure what he will do upon Impression, "Maybe I'll just hang around and bug him." Zemaal has suggested working as a psychologist to other dragonriders, who have their own special concerns. Zendrell seems to like the idea.
Slumped against a shaded rock wall, he found himself crying again. The boy with sun-kissed hair didn't know why, it had just happened. Saw a blue dragon that seemed so familiar flying overhead, and the next thing he'd known, his shoulder had hit a nearby wall and he was sliding down to his knees, sobbing softly, uncontrollably.
No more would he see that dragon, his father's dragon, who had always treated him so kindly even if Z'rel had always paid him about as much mind as any other weyrbrat. And even despite that, Zemaal had always felt it was better to know who his father was, that he actually had one, than naught...
No, it would always and forever more be merely a dragon that looked like Datrevth. And if ever he saw another shock of red hair a rider revealed as he took off his riding helmet, it would only be a man who looked like Z'rel.
Zemaal wiped tears from his cheeks with a dirty shirt sleeve, blue-green irises contrasting sharply with the reddened whites of his eyes. Sometimes, he would be caught in the act, and he was today. No one cries over a dead father, especially one that did not raise their child. This time, a rider peeked around the corner, looking curiously at the sight before him.
Startled, the boy gasped, scrabbling up to his feet. "Tears--I was cutting onions earlier for the soup. Rubbed my eyes when they began to tear and..."
The price of a happy child hiding his pain deep inside was an ache that never quite went away.
The boys stomped through the halls on the way to the Sands. Zemaal kept looking at his feet, unaccustomed to the length of his Candidate's robe. He grinned as with each kicking step the trim flopped outward. It was because of this that he did not notice any doubt the others might have shown.
As they stepped out onto the scalding-hot sand of the Hatching Cavern, Zemaal became painfully aware of his second-hand shoes' inadequacy. He winced but tried not to show his discomfort. Perhaps someday, when he was a rider, he could afford a new pair of shoes...
As he took his place with the other boys, Zemaal pulled a pair of meatrolls out of his robe's pocket with no small expression of triumph.
Zemaal looked up and around him, firelizards spinning above the Candidates' heads. The Stands were filled with milling people who were almost as excited but nowhere near as nervous as the Candidates. Above them loomed the forms of hundreds of dragons, faceted eyes intense, their humming resonating from deep within.
A flickering movement within the ocean-like crowd drew his eyes inexorably to one woman in a pretty dress of shimmering green, her hair falling over one shoulder in a cascade of golden curls. With a ragged sigh, he recognized his blond-haired mother, flirting with the man sitting next to her. He never understood why, but he could pick her out of any crowd, even though he couldn't even see what her suitor's insignia of rank was. How long had his father been dead -- days? -- and it had nevcer seemed to phase her.
The color of her dress, which matched precisely the color of her dragon's hide, only reminded him of the bad luck the color was supposed to represent. 'I like greens,' he thought desperately, 'but please, please don't let me Impress a green!' Like her.
Were he to ask anyone a silly question like, "Why would I be able to find her so easily?" someone might reply that it was a mother-child bonding. He knew he'd never believe it. His ties to her were even weaker than his had been with Z'rel. But he had seen her right away even so, and he turned his gaze back to the cavernous dune-filled Hatching Ground, eyes threatening to fill with tears. He was ashamed of her.
And most likely whether or not he Impressed, she would not see it. She was too busy socializing, her hand fluttering in front of her like a pale pink butterfly.
Thankfully, it was about the time that he came to that realization that the eggs began to hatch, with a climaxing of dragon and firelizard humming, and shame was replaced by anxiety. From the Impression of a little brown the event seemed interminable, time yanked like a yo-yo to speed up or slow down as eggs cracked, rocked, and rolled, dragon hatchlings springing forth and into boys' and girls' arms. But most of all, the waiting made the burning in his feet incredible...
At last, there were only two eggs left, and both showed large webs of cracks down their sides. It was only a matter of time before they hatched - and it was clear that several last-minute bets were being placed on them.
With a dozen Candidates on the sands, and only two eggs, it was clear that many of them would have to wait until later to Impress at these sands. But for now, two would be lucky.
A big Blue finally stuck his legs out of the shell and cracked out of it carefully. His intelligent eyes scanned the remaining Candidates until they fell upon Zemaal.
Zemaal lowered his head, the half-eaten meatroll still clenched in his hand. He only raised it as his arm twitched, something warm tickling his fingers. He raised his blue-green eyes enough to see the blue muzzle of a small hatchling, the deepest color of midday sky, snuffling at the treasure contained within his grasp. He laughed as a long wet tongue licked his fingers, causing him to drop the meatroll reflexively into the dragon's waiting maw.
The little blue grabbed his wrist with both front claws and he proceeded to methodically lick the boy's palm and fingers clean. His scruffy feline, Snake, had often done this during long nights as Zemaal had sat on his bunk studying, her long furry body draped across his middle, one claw hooked into the skin of his hand to ensure he wouldn't move...
But Lefpath was different; he would not hurt Zemaal.
Zemaal's eyes overflowed with tears. Before him sat a little dragon -- still holding onto his pale-skinned wrist with one clawed hand -- that looked so much like Datrevth, and better. His hide was a richer shade of azure, he saw, and Lefpath had eyes only for Zemaal.
That was very good, Zemaal, but not nearly enough. More? Please? He looked up at him with pleading eyes. Lefpath needs more food!
The grin that spread across his face squeezed a tear from each eye, and there were no more. This second mind in his provided a sort of support structure; even though Lefpath's deep pangs of hunger weakened them both at the knees, he felt a strength he had never known. "Of course, Lefpath. Let's go."
'Dragonriders don't cry,' he thought as he led his newly hatched dragon away from the Sands.
Z'aal, where is that... creature you like so much? Is she not invited?
Zemaal, or Z'aal, replied, "Well Lefpath, I think you'll meet her sooner than you think," Z'aal looked over to the meat bowls which were now much diminished, "Snake is over there stealing your food."
~ Exerpts from DragonHope's first hatching!
Story | Lefpath
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Z'aal and Lefpath found eachother on DragonHope Weyr's Hatching Sands!