Description
Dark of hair and dark of eye, the angular features of this young man are nothing short of striking. A long, narrow nose dominates a face of chiseled elegance, clean-shaven jaw and strong, high cheekbones accompanying thin lips and brows, the latter revealing a forehead with v-shaped hairline. Said hair is worn shoulder-length and straight, fine strands with the vaguest midnight-blue sheen in the right light, though otherwise appearing black and listless. His skin, in contrast, is extremely pale, having not seen terribly much of Rukbat's warmth, though free of blemish as well. No scar mars limbs which appear long and slender, though closer inspection might reveal a sleeker build than first appearances suggest. There is muscle there, toned, if not utterly obvious, his build more lithe than bulky, but still possessing an innate grace and strength. Long fingers and uncalloused hands betray his softness, though there is a hardened edge to the way he moves and in the guarded depths of an unyielding gaze.
History
Valdimir was a traveller, coming to the weyr as a younger boy (at 17 turns or thereabouts) - making friends rarely, if at all. He wasn't easy to get along with, his cold and uncaring demeanor not winning him any fans, amongst the islander Istans or his fellow candidates. Indeed, if he even /has/ any friends.. they're, well, hidden? He'd found work as a scribe in the archives, though rumors and his uncanny ability with a blade speak of a darker past. But talking isn't something he's ever seemed likely to do. Still, it might have been something of a surprise when the antisocial, withdrawn boy walked off the hatching sands with a bronze, of all things. Perhaps that blue who searched him might have some answers. Perhaps not. In any case, V'lad began anew, and there is something of a warmth within him now, if only obvious for his lifemate.
Family
| Name | Relation | Location | Position | Dragon |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Vlanna | mother | ? | ? | - |
| Dimiren | father | ? | ? | - |
| B'ky | mentor/best friend | Ista Weyr | AWLM | Avideth |
| D'len | weyrmate | Ista Weyr | Weyrlingmaster | Szayelth |
Quotes
- "Uh. No. It's quite alright. I am rather dashing in ..red. Although, I would rather you saved the actual slaughtering until after I'd stepped away."
Songs
- Cain - Tiamat
- Blood On Blood - Bon Jovi
Firelizards
gold Camarilla
bronze Sabbat
Dragon
Kindred To The Beast Bronze Tzimisceth
Shadows against darkness, the smouldering form of this dragon is nothing more than shaped metallic hues whose angles and lines defy attempts to contain it. Illusion, perhaps, makes the creature's skin shimmer beneath a sheen of molten bronze, covered entirely so that little of its actual color can be discerned from moment to moment, save the flame-like flicker searing across heavily-veined membranes or the odd gleam of light against cruelly jagged ridges. Yet even cloaked as it is in false shades of night, the sharp contours of muscle twisting along flanks and down powerful limbs is terribly stark. Or are they? Why is there a sort of stretching here or there? Is that truly tendon beneath the skin, or some trick of his ever-shifting shades. The predatory set to its eyes is at least obvious, narrow and carrying within them a ferocity that roils and swirls in contained chaos. Sleek /seems/ the creature's head, jaws large and armed with the sharpest of teeth, though jutting awkwardly, the fangs of a killer, nonetheless. Where wickedly curved claws meet toes, there is a deeper darkness, almost midnight in its own way. Wings unfurl to massive proportion, though compared to his bulk, they actually appear undersized, vestigial almost beneath the blanket of dark.
