Post by Esko on Dec 15, 2017 20:37:18 GMT -5
(Faceclaim: Samuel Barnett)
NAME: F'mol
RANK: Bronzerider (formerly Journeyman Harper), Wingsecond of Gust Wing
AGE: 26 (+2 after Timing It)
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Bisexual
DRAGON: Bronze Zenoth
PETS: Brown Fargo, Brown Rego, green Migo, bronze Intago
APPEARANCE:
F'mol is not an intimidating man. Standing at an average 5'9", his stance isn't impressive at all. Not to mention that his habit of slouching makes him look shorter than he is. His figure is stuck between "skinny little weed" and "perfectly average", and it's slightly more feminine than most men; strangely, this comes out more when he wears black short sleeved shirts and tight pants. His shoulders aren't quite as broad as most men, and his hips are slightly wider. It's a point that he's been made fun of before, but it's not so glaringly obvious that he's bullied for it on a daily basis. Even though three Turns of fighting in the Wings has cultivated his muscle into something a little less feeble, it is unlikely that he will ever grow to be more muscular than he is now.
He is not ugly at all, but has a face that could be more described as "cute" than "handsome". He has dark reddish-brown hair, which looks more red in harsh light. His eyebrows are not too thin nor too thick, and they hang close to his eyes. He has pale blue eyes that sit close together and are often locked in a curious glint. Whenever he smiles, dimples are apparent on his face. His nose fits well on his face, which has an oval shape to it. His skin is very fair, and one could never guess that he is the son of a laboring Farmer with his lack of a tan.
When it comes to clothing, F'mol likes to stick to Harper blue to remember his old occupation. Not everything in his outfit will be that shade of blue -that would be absolutely ridiculous, and it'd look horrendous, you know!- but every day there's bound to be some sort of blue. He likes jackets, and he prefers clothing that doesn't hang tightly to his skin. Boots are his preferred footwear but he'll wear any sort of shoe if he needs to. If his clothing is not blue, it's some sort of neutral color.
PERSONALITY FAULTS:
When one imagines a bronzerider, they tend to think of a strappingly handsome man, the kind Harpers sing about for Turns. F'mol absolutely does not fit that image. In fact, F'mol tends to be more of a pushover about a lot of things. He is easily convinced into doing something, under the guise of helping someone out with a problem. He will be lured in, made a fool of himself, then will promise himself that it will never happen again. This promise tends to be broken, as he is easy to trust and quick to forgive. Usually, anyway. He has made enough true friends in his life that he hasn't gotten the message yet. He just wants to be a good person, after all! With how adorable and gullible he is, he likely won't ever get the message.
F'mol is not a man of ambitions; in fact, he's still shocked he Impressed bronze at all. He views himself as the kind of lad who would Impress a lowly green or blue and live out his life flaming in lower Wings and working off Flightlust with other men. There's a little bit of colorist in him, a built-in subconscious sense that's less based on prejudice and more based on the abilities of each dragon. He doesn't necessarily think of greens and blues as lesser, but he just understands that they can't last nearly as long in a Threadfall. If F'mol had a say in anything, he wouldn't be a leader at all; he would just fade into the background while more ambitious folks took the lead. Unfortunately for him, his Zenoth isn't about to let that happen. Ever.
PERSONALITY STRENGTHS:
F'mol is an intelligent man with an eye for music and history. He remembers things very well, and he has a knack for improvisational music. One could even say he had a natural talent for it! Unfortunately, as priorly mentioned, when it comes to common sense he's a little slow to catch on. He can connect point A to point B, it just...takes a little while. When Threadfall comes into play, he's quick to think and jump into action, and he can pull off a decent strategy and battle plan. If he weren't so nervous, he wouldn't make a half-bad Wingleader, or even a Weyrleader.
Oh, how sweet this man is! He isn't overly sweet, like some may be after they've realized they've been mean to others as they try to make it up to them. No, his sweetness seems to be perfectly balanced, as if he was born with it. F'mol is a naturally considerate man, taking the effort to treat anyone with respect. At least, anyone who isn't a desolate jerk. Even so, F'mol does his best to treat them kindly, though he may secretly want to watch them burn. Not everyone can be sugar, spice and everything nice inside AND out, after all! He wants to be seen as a shoulder to lean on, someone who's ready to help out whenever someone's in need. For those that aren't keen on using him, F'mol is a steadfast friend who's loyal to a fault.
A romantic at heart, F'mol tends to fall head over heels easily. This can be a good thing, but also has turned to be a bad thing. With an unintentional hobby of collecting crushes, he could be a caring lover if he actually had the courage to ask someone out. While not a complete coward, when it comes to the matters of the heart he turns into an absolute wimp. Of course, he knows a thing or two about how others can go about it, sure! He just doesn't have the guts to do it himself. While he falls in love easily, he isn't a dumb white knight and will not defend everything a woman does. He'll just try to put them down as nicely as possible.
FAMILY:
Semol- Master Farmer
Fadra- Birthing woman
Siblings
Soldro- Journeyman Farmer
Fardan- Journeyman Farmer
Finnia- Seamstress
HISTORY:
Semol had met his Fadra when he had just recently walked the tables and became a Journeyman Farmer. A Southern native, he'd been stationed at Crom Hold to begin his own field of crops when he met Fadra at a Spring Gather. Immediately stricken (or just excited) he offered to marry her on the spot while drunk. She said no, of course, but found him cute and began to see him more often. A Turn later they were married, and another Turn after that they had their first son, Soldro. Two Turns after, Fardan came screaming along. It wouldn't be until three Turns later that Farmol was born, the third addition to the happy family.
Farmol wasn't much of a fussy baby. Semol had joked that his third son looked like a girl brat when he was first born, but there were no doubts that the baby was a son. There were no doubts about his father, either; he had the signature reddish-brown hair of Semol's children. He cried whenever he needed attention drawn to a problem, but other than that he was worryingly quiet. Fadra began to become paranoid that her son wasn't all there, that he would be doomed to a life of drudgery because of limited mental capacity. She couldn't be more wrong. As soon as he got old enough to figure out words, he was louder than a wherry with a thorn in its toe. Words were so fun! However...
There came the next issue. While Farmol was curious and absorbed his surroundings with ease...he stuttered. This became more apparent as he got older and spoke in coherent sentences, but it was enough for other young Holdbrats to use as the butt of their jokes. Farmol was almost constantly made fun of for this problem from the first time he tried to talk to another boy. Fortunately, there were only a few brats who made fun of him, and he figured out how to infuriate them in return. The key to getting revenge wasn't getting revenge at all; it was treating the boys like human beings. They were trying to terrorize him, and when it seemed to not work? It drove them bonkers. What surprised the boys was that even with Farmol's stuttering problem, it was surprisingly easy for him to make friends. Over time they slowed their attacks, until it boiled down to an occasional snide remark.
Going back to when Farmol was two, Fadra had become pregnant again and had given birth, this time to a girl. Unlike the three boys before her, Finnia was unhealthy from the start. She was almost constantly sick, and she wasn't even given a name until a Turn later, when her parents were a little less sure that she would die. Semol secretly made arrangements in the case of her death, but somehow those actions would prove to be of no use. Finnia would make it through her early Turns and grow to be a capable girl. While Farmol was jealous that his parents doted on the girl more than they did him, he would learn in time the reasons why.
Finally, when Farmol was twelve Turns it was time for him to choose a Craft or some sort of job. Semol wanted him to become an apprentice Farmer like his brother, of course, but the boy had a different passion entirely. He absolutely adored music and history, and he knew just where he could practice it; as a Harper. While Fadra was completely supportive, Semol was the opposite. What Farmol expected to be a calm talk turned into a screaming match, with his father putting his foot down and forbidding him from pursuing anything other than the Farmcraft. Fadra stepped in, and while her husband was away she packed Farmol's things and sent him off to the Harpercraft hall at Fort. Farmol never knew of what happened as a result, but he didn't think about that; he actually got to pursue his dream!
Farmol would spend the rest of his Turns of childhood in the 'Hall, and he would come to know it as his secondary home. While his handwriting was only decent and he absolutely couldn't sing -stuttering problem aside, he sounded like a sorethroated herdbeast- his Masters noted his interesting talent in the musical field. He was able to remember notes and pitches well, and with a bit of finagling he could repeat the note on an instrument. He was also swell at remembering history facts, something which further pleased his Masters. He made a small circle of friends in the 'Hall, all of them around his age, and they helped each other practice and study. They also began to help Farmol with his stuttering, and slowly it began to get better.
It was when Farmol's hormones sparked that his hopeless romanticism began to flower. He developed a series of crushes, but one of them was especially strong. When he was fifteen Turns, he fell for a pretty apprentice named Hazlenna. She was beautiful, with luscious blond hair and bright hazel eyes. At the time, he was absolutely sure he was in love with her, even though it turned out to be more of a crush combined with the confusion of hormones. Everyone else around him could tell that he liked her, as he because suddenly timid and stuttered even more whenever she was around. She let on like she didn't know, but oh, she knew! At one point, during a Gather Farmol was dared to confess. After a lot of back-and-forth and some wine, he was convinced to do so. He'd gone up to Hazlenna and told her...she playfully poked his nose and proceeded to ignore him. Ignore as in actively go out of her way to avoid him. Heartbroken, Farmol promised he'd never fall in "love" again, as a dramatic 16-Turn-old does.
At the young age of nineteen Turns, Farmol was surprised to be called to walk the tables. His friends cheered him on as he earned his knots, marking him as an official Journeyman of the Harpercraft, something he'd wanted since he was a boy. With a mixture of pride, ecstasy and shock, he accepted his place and was immediately stationed at Fort Hold proper. There he was set to teaching Harper lessons and entertainment when he was called upon to do so. While sometimes the Holdbrats could be difficult, he enjoyed his job and relished it even more when he got to play an instrument. His specialty was on the gitar, but he was pretty flexible when it came to musical instruments.
Just a Turn later, though, a handsome blue landed in the Hold's courtyard. While Farmol was no stranger to seeing Searchdragons, he was surprised to learn that this dragon was not from Fort Weyr at all, but a fledgeling Weyrhold in an island at the Western circle. Even more of a surprise was that the blue cast its eyes on him, and spoke to him. He couldn't believe that out of everyone in the Hold, he was one of the ones chosen as a potential Candidate. Not believing he'd Impress, Farmol accepted Search and gave his friends their goodbyes; he could always just live out his days as a Harper in this Mavros Weyrhold place, maybe even earn his Masters knots there!
His prediction couldn't have been more wrong. The first clutch of Mavros Weyrholdhad begun to Hatch, and Farmol stood on the Sands. He had begun to zone out as blues, greens and browns found their riders. Then, a voice in his head had brought him back down to Pern. 'Where is your head? I almost didn't find you before one of these others did.' The voice chided, as Farmol could feel his body melding into something new, his mind fusing with another mind. He turned his head to find a beautiful bronze, his eyes whirling rainbow. 'I found you anyways. I am your Zenoth, as you are my F'mol. I require something to eat, I am starving. At that moment, Farmol -no, F'mol- could feel his stomach curling over with hunger. Hunger he wasn't sure was entirely his. He rushed his dragon off the Sands, feeding him in a daze. He wasn't the Harper of his boyhood dreams. No, he was now the bronze weyrling of other boy's dreams.
Weyrlinghood wasn't what he expected, even though he hadn't any expectations at all. Zenoth was a rash, hotheaded bronze who lorded over smaller dragons and took offense at the smallest things. It took a lot of work wrangling him into being nice to the other dragons, but even as a bully Zenoth never really meant any harm. He just never understood why his 'lighthearted' actions were taken as insults or attempts at bullying. However, this didn't mean that Zenoth was opposed to teamwork at all; in fact, when it came to learning how to fight Thread, Zenoth was completely in on all of it. He knew it was his destiny, his purpose as a dragon to fight the menace in the sky, and whatever it took to do it he was for it. He enjoyed lessons even more as Weyrlinghood dragged on and they were able to fly. This made things more bearable for F'mol, even when he was expected to start leading in lessons. If his dragon was eager, he was eager. A Turn into F'mol's new life as a dragonrider, he was gifted an egg by a 'secret admirer'. Surprised that he even had an admirer at all, the note that came with the egg told him the sender did their best to pick the largest egg out of their firelizard's clutch. The egg hatched into a handsome brown, which F'mol named Fargo.
Of course, knowing that he would be entering the Wings after the other Weyrs retracted any assistance made him horribly frightened. Without their help, dragons would be dying left and right, and it would be harder to defend the areas of land beholden to Mavros. Once they actually graduated and were tapped into a Wing, F'mol nearly passed out during their first 'Fall. Luckily he didn't, but every dragon's death ripped at his heart. He was sure that his shelf life was not very long, even though Zenoth was sure of the opposite.
And yet, three Turns later, the two are still alive and fighting Thread alongside their brothers and sisters. Bitter about losing Zalmaranth's Flight to the younger Fath and not becoming Weyrleader, Zenoth swore that he would win soon and lead the Weyr. Frightened by this prospect, F'mol just hopes to live past each Threadfall. Hoping the bronze's short memory will forget about the idea of becoming Weyrleader, at least. Though, it doesn't help that he's been recently promoted to Wingsecond, something Zenoth relishes and F'mol is afraid of. With more responsibilities than ever, F'mol is out of his comfort zone. And he can't go back.