Egg Name and Description
Doom Do Do DOOM Doomy-Doomy Doom Doom Egg
It does not stand out terribly amongst its peers, or at least, not upon a passing glance, though there is decidedly something.. /off/ about this egg. Drab it is not, though neither is it gaudily bright, falling into some middle ground of metal greys and fuzzy greens. Its shape seeming more blocky than spherical, the differing hues make the curve less obvious. There is none of that elliptical elegance as it sits upon the hatching sands, awkwardly tilted as if slouching forward, clothed in a yellowed shade of olive, as though blanketed in some putrid fabric, a poorly worn disguise, its painted folds falling away in ignorant obliviousness of its true form. Yet it works. Is this not, after all, an egg? What /else/ would it be? A /meatroll/? That's crazy talk! The entire upper half fails at hiding the steely smoothness of its shell, like a shipfish enthusiastically poking its head from the water, less dull grey shoving out the top in utter disregard of what is supposedly an unassuming egg. Yet despite what might be lurking beneath that oddly colored surface, there is little menace to the thing, except perhaps unintentionally, for two great spots of blue smear in a dopey stare at those passing by, and one small rectangular smudge of pink lolls haphazardly to one side.
Utterly Totally Perfectly Normal
Utterly Totally Perfectly Normal shuffles about with reckless abandon, wandering through the playground of your thoughts in almost childlike innocence, barging over whatever had been occupying your mind and settling itself amongst the debris of its passage, toying with this or that bit, unaware it seems of whether or not you want to share. As each is briefly rummaged through, there is a growing sense of uncertainty, strange clicks and clunks adding to a mounting confusion. Rising from a jumble of strange angles and muddy hues fading into one another, your most recent memories melting together into something altogether unrecognizable, a myriad questions begin floating around like gently drifting soapsand bubbles. You are poked at in playful curiosity, so much left unanswered, alien ideas pressing together in conflicting theories about one past experience or another. Most of them are completely wrong, but every step brings it closer to some sort of understanding, though for what purpose lies carefully concealed. As the seconds tick by, sweat beading upon your brow, it becomes clear the oblivious nudges and jabs leave deeper marks as they probe further into what brought you here. All your limbs are twitchy with the internal cataloguing. The who and the what seem so much less important than the how and the why. And even moreso, the why nots. All these things begin to build, too many to answer, too numerous to ignore. It feels as if your head is growing with every one, until it is abnormally large and heavy, and threatening to tip you over with the sheer size of it. And then everything just sort of wanders off in distraction, the sensation fading as suddenly as it came.
Utterly Totally Perfectly Normal is not done yet! There is so much to do - /so much/! Plans! Ambitions! Waffles! Sifting through all the data it has collected from your head, there's a jarring /kerthunk/ as if something hard had just been bent back upon itself and then dropped on the floor. It lies there, in dead and forgettable stillness while the memories race past, flashes of unrelated randomness picked out and chosen for no other reason than they are interesting. Or /shiney/. And then something jerks awake, far in the back of your thoughts, an eagerness to please overwhelming everything else. All those things you left unfinished - whether you considered them done or not - you could have help! You could get things done twice as fast! More efficiently! Is this criticism or salvation? Better! Stronger! Tastier! With new and improved- oh look, there's a funny memory floating over there. And off skitters the eagerness, the enthusiasm fading only to be replaced by an entirely new sensation, a craving so deep it goes to the bones and compels you to act. Is that your stomach rumbling? Is that the smell of your favorite food? Why is it so.. tantalizing? Why does it call to you? Is.. is it talking? Somehow things aren't quite so solid anymore, straight lines going wavy, direct thoughts going noodley, and all those carefully laid plans going up in smoke and flames before they've even started. Maybe it's time for a break. Or a snack. Or something that doesn't involve remembering that one time over and over and over again.
Utterly Totally Perfectly Normal bursts through the realm of your consciousness, all ego and obliviousness, an out of control VTOL crashing and bumping into anything and everything it can find, turning the light onto times both painful and pleasant, and reliving all your most memorable moments in the blink of an eye. The speed is nothing to the bafflement over your most sensitive memories, the ones kept deeper. It doesn't understand even the least reluctance to share, and careens willy-nilly all over the place giving your own wishes only passing attention, as if you were some puzzle to be solved or gift to be opened. Whee hoo hoo hoo! There it goes, causing havoc in even the most basic of your beliefs, peering at them a hundred different ways and then tearing up the packaging to leave you drifting in a weightless void with nothing but your precious memories and shreds of your life up to this point. The incomplete picture rendered from the bits and pieces barely scratches the surface, but incorporates all the important events in your life, and then smears them across a blank canvas in glittering motes of memory. It shows you yourself from other points of view, all the worst opinions others harbor are thrown headlong from your own fears and thoughts. Begone! For clearly, you're nothing! Go home and shave your giant head of smell with your bad self! No wait… that made no sense. Nevermind! There could be greatness. Oh, the Greatness. Just.. just give it time. Yes, time. For now, maybe a little cleanup is in order, and then some rest.. To try something else tomorrow, a different approach, a better, more cunning plan.
Doom Do Do DOOM Doomy-Doomy Doom Doom Egg is rather still, despite the movements of the others nearby. It simply sits there, no wobble, no movement. It is not there.
There seems to be no incoming Doom at all, as the gray and green egg merely sits upon the sands, still not moving, not twitching, and showing no sign of doing anything.
Suddenly, the end has come, and what made of the shell of the Doom Do Do DOOM Doomy-Doomy Doom Doom Egg is gone, and instead there is a rather surprised looking green sitting in its place. It was a dragon ALL along!
Hatchling Name and Description
Starlit Ambassador Green Hatchling
Ostentatiously garish, here's a dragon who was made to catch eyes and keep them staring. A dark Persian green sets the base for her elaborate costume, flowing seamlessly from blunt muzzle to tail-tip, the soft teal undertones muted by the much louder hues that spiral over her rounded sides. While a delicate headdress of jungle green has been set upon wide, flattened headknobs, ridges of sea green flow down her spine like a trailing veil. Mint-green wingsails sweep between peacock spars, speckled with iridescent shamrock spots as oversized wings frame her imperious form like a sweeping cloak. Not unlike some starlit sky, speckles of lime seem to have been showered upon her from above, flecks of light upon her dark, brocaded expanse.
Public Impression Message
Private Impression Message
A dull pressure in your mind slowly grows, a band slowly tightening around your thoughts, pushing the Sands and the others far away, leaving you isolated, a soft nudge to one hand being the last tie to the physical world. Despite it all, you sense that are you are anything but alone, as ripples of rich colors begin to come into focus, like waves lapping against your thoughts. « M'rim. » A voice says lightly. « M'rim, darlin'. I am Mzath, and it is -so- nice to meet you. » A tendril of thought winds its way more closely, mentally leaning. « But now, I do believe it is time for a feast. Wouldn't you agree? »
Personality / RP Tips
From the very beginning, you will have your hands full with Mzath, whose personality and habits will tend to draw anyone within a ten-mile radius into your everyday life. She will have a difficult time coming to terms with the appropriate etiquette associated with mental conversations, often intruding rather than being invited.
To say Mzath is social would be considered a great understatement, as she will likely be the first of her clutchmates to begin chattering - both with you and other dragons, though not just her clutchmates, especially after an irritated rebuke from Isanath. « Mzath. I frankly do not care! » The older dragons of the Weyr will find themselves being peppered with comments and observations - rarely questions - as will visitors who happen to land too close to wherever she happens to be spending her time. And, on those occasions when she has been blocked out by the other dragons, M'rim will be in for quite the treat, as she chatters her way through your thoughts, commenting on the decorating habits of others, the horrible styles that they've chosen to wear, or how she simply can't believe those two are seen in public together.
What makes Mzath's observations truly entertaining - though Faranth help anyone who lets her realize they think this - is that her style-sense is anything but mainstream, and she will be happy to share it with M'rim. Even as a Weyrling, Mzath will be encouraging creative modifications to his uniform - a green tie-dyed t-shirt under his uniform top, a dazzling headband - anything to give him a unique edge. As she matures, she will expect no less of her own belongings - colorful, even noisy straps, adorned with buckles and bells, sparkles and bright hues - hopefully she never discovers such thing as glitter, or everything will be covered in it. And rue the day that she realizes she can personalize her couch (and later her weyr) - any spare marks you have will be used for luscious fabrics to drape and over the area, and make it perfect.
Because, of course, Mzath deserves perfect, and should have nothing but the best. She is after all, the daughter of the Weyrleader's own bronze, and the lifemate of the son of Ista's Steward, and she demands the respect that should be accorded to her for such a position. This attitude will likely only grow as she ages, particularly should she manage to attain some special rank or status, or any sort of recognition. Given her ambitiousness, it is entirely likely she will do just that, as she will strive to leave her clutchmates in the dust - and prove that she suffers no handicap simply because she happens to be green. She will dream of being an ambassador, of being able to travel to Holds, Halls, and Weyrs alike, see the world, visit the people, and (so she hopes) be feasted and feted all around the planet. She will also be more than happy to push you into organizing events of your own, inviting everyone who is anyone to a huge affair - fancy clothes, fine wine, exquisite decor, and carefully prepared food. In a way, it is all an attempt at keeping young - by never admitting she is aging, and never slowing down, she will continue to remain young at heart.
Whether she is at home at Ista or out visiting another area, she will be making her best impression, ensuring that she is the center of attention. However, she will tend to draw attention to herself in one way - flirting. And incessantly at that - with just about anyone and everyone - Malphath, Tzettenvonth, Rakauth, Kolath - it makes no difference to her if they are clutch siblings, parents, or mates of her own 'friends' - they are all fair game. It is, after all, just flirting. Even riders will not necessarily be free from a form of it, as she will be quite likely to wrap herself around anyone so ignorant as to ignore her, demanding scritches and attention. Should she be rejected, ignored, or even reprimanded, she will slowly retreat, her head held high all the while, looking to you for that attention she was unable to find elsewhere. Until, of course, she does find it elsewhere.
Though she is bad on a day to day basis - it is only intensified when she enters one of her proddy cycles. Luckily for M'rim (And the rest of Ista), she is likely to only begin to act 'off' for a day or so, during which she will be practically hanging on any male who happens to be in the vicinity - and some of the more tolerant females too, should they allow it. It will be without warning that she takes to the skies - no blooding, merely up, up, up! They will often be a merry chase - short but quite quick, tending towards the acrobatics of most green flights. Afterwards, she will likely hang on the lucky winner for a sevenday or so, showering him exclusively with her affection, before brushing him off and returning to her normal tendencies - love for everyone!
Malorim may have his hands full and find himself pushed in various directions, but there was a reason for Mzath to pick him - He will be her stability, her constant. Despite the flirting, he is her Izmadi, her life partner, without whom she would be completely lost. Much of her behavior comes from a fear of being alone, of being forgotten, and so she surrounds herself with others, and takes on a larger than life personality - constantly on the go, aside from perhaps a tender moment now and then when it is just the two of you, and she content to merely curl up together on the rim, and take in the stars - Until she begins her theories on what lays beyond them.
Totally, utterly, perfectly normal - Mzath's mind is anything *but*. Garish hues and wild patterns that make her hide seem dull are the main characteristics of her mind. Peacock blues and bright turquoise intermingle, iridescent shades highlighted with streaks of shining copper, which turns to gold when she gets particularly excited. Rarely do the colors of her mind dull, roaring instead to greater intensities when her emotions run high. Her voice itself seems almost quiet against the extreme backdrop of her mind, a strength reinforcing it despite its levelness.
The theme this cycle was Companions, Partners, and Pairs, and the DOOM egg was created by Cenlia, based on Invader Zim, an alien from the furthest reaches of the galaxy, and his sidekick GIR. Together, they attempt to achieve world domination and the eradication of the human race - all the while attempting to maintain that they are perfectly normal, every day humans.
Mzath, meanwhile, is based of Lwaxana Troi, the outlandish mother of the Enterprise's own Counselor Troi. She has all of Lwaxana's energy, enthusiasm, hopes, dreams, and luckily for you, her flirtatiousness as well.
Mzath's name comes from the Betazoid word 'Izmadi' or 'beloved'. I decided on this name because it seemed unique, and the meaning behind it truly fits. Mzath wants to be M'rim's beloved, always, forever.
She was created for you by Angharad - but as always, this is just ideas, thoughts, and ramblings to give you a start - she's yours to play as you will, we hope you enjoy her!
|Name||Starlit Ambassador Green Mzath|
|Hatched||28 July 2012|