"It wasn't my wounds that needed healing..."
-Lancel Lannister, Game of Thrones
BASICS
NAME: Lancel
GENDER: Masculine
PRONOUNS: Masculine (he/him/his)
ORIENTATION: Questioning; slight preference for men/masculine people || closeted until the end of time
BIRTHDATE: Summer 2740
AGE: 33 as of Early Spring 2773
LOCATION: Semaca Weyr
OCCUPATION: Wingrider
WING: Pavane
APPEARANCE
EYES: Pale Blue
HAIR: Sandy Blonde
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5' 10" || lean; not overly muscular
PLAY-BY: Eugene Simon
FULL APPEARANCE:
One could be forgiven for mistaking Lancel for a gangly teenager from afar. With his lithe and slender build, a mere 5' 10" in height, and the habit of effacing himself, Lancel does himself no favors in this regard. Lancel is round-of-face, and his skin mildly tanned from outdoor activity, unmarred by freckles; though that might change should he spend enough time in Semaca. In terms of his hair and eyes, he sports sandy blonde hair with slight curl to it, kept long to about his shoulders; his eyes are a pale blue in color, similar to cornflower in hue, rather than ice. Lancel prefers to dress in muted shades of earth tones, in the hopes of attracting less attention. Yet the fact remains he is rather fond of various shades of red, and he absolutely loves garments in green; not only does it display his affection for Alezaeth, but he finds he looks his best in green. In addition, scars mar his right pectoral and run over his shoulder. The injury has never healed properly, leaving lingering pain and weakness in the affected arm, and Lancel favors the region as a result.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Lancel is shy and timid, preferring to stay out of sight of everyone around him when he can. It's a rare thing for Lancel to speak, and his voice is soft when he does, almost inaudible at times. Driven to be logical and even tactical by necessity, he thinks very carefully about everything he might say, which often leads him to saying nothing at all, even at the most crucial of moments. Lancel is prone to over-thinking about everything and would rather say nothing at all than risk saying the wrong thing. In addition, he deeply dislikes conflict, a trait reinforced by his time under Golre.
After everything he’s experienced, Lancel has matured into a somber and solemn man, but an anxious one. What sense of humor he possessed was quickly lost upon arriving at High Reaches. Jokes pass over his head, and pranks are viewed as an attack; the latter liable to send him into fits of panic. When Lancel sees others laugh at something that's been said in conversation, he might laugh along just to fit in, pleading to Faranth they don't notice how forced the sound was. No, social situations are not his forte at all, and he rather enjoys moments of peaceful solitude spent in quiet contemplation, most often with Alezaeth at his side.
Even today, after time spent away from the environment of High Reaches, Lancel struggles to find self-worth, confidence, and purpose. Lancel isn't certain where he fits in. At the age of thirty-three, he isn't sure he'll ever figure it out. Lancel rarely says no to anything, regardless of whether the asker is a candidate or his wingleader, as asserting himself almost never seems worth the potential trouble. Alezaeth is the only being Lancel is certain he can trust; the only one who knows him better than he knows himself. Even if he is uncertain of where he stands elsewhere, Lancel knows he has one place for certain: in the heart and mind of a green; his Alezaeth.
(Personality provided by Arc!)
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Direct Family
Kevan - father - Holder-bred - living
Dorna - mother - Holder-bred - living
Martyn - younger brother - living - open tie! - [-2]
Willem - younger brother - living - open tie! - [-3]
Janei - younger sister - living - open tie! - [-7]
Extended Family
Ranator - retired Holder/retired wherhandler - uncle - living
Leitan - retired Holder - aunt - living
R'tan of White Mazath - whiterider - cousin - living - [+2]
Ranalei of Brown Ranalesk - Lady Holder/wherhandler - cousin - living - [+2]
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None, but open!
BIRTHPLACE: Mining Hold beholden to Nabol
HISTORY: TW: arranged marriage (threatened); Golre's High Reaches (fear & bullying, colorism, major injuries)
Lancel was firstborn to Kevan and Dorna, in a small but prosperous mining encampment in Nabol Province. In relatively short order, brothers Martyn and Willem followed. It was difficult for Dorna to become pregnant after Willem's birth, and many were relieved; Dorna wasn't a sturdy woman to begin with. After all, Kevan's lineage was secure; Lancel was his eldest son and he had two younger sons, in the event something were to happen to Lancel. Yet they were not the leading family, but rather a branch of the tree. Ranator, Kevan's elder brother, was the leader and sole wherhandler of their mining group, with his family around him. When the time came for Ranator to retire, a fierce competition sprung up between his eldest offspring, daughter Ranalei and son Ranatan being twins. In the end, Ranalei emerged victorious, proving she was the best candidate for succeeding Ranator. Ranator trained her to be his successor, and to one day bond to the family wher. Ranatan didn't take it well, and Lancel couldn't help but feel a hint of pity for his cousin. One day, Lancel discovered Ranatan gone. K'tor, uncle to both Ranatan and Lancel and a bluerider of High Reaches, had offered Ranatan the opportunity to Stand as a Candidate, rather than stay here as a simple miner, in Ranalei's shadow.
Lancel moved on easily enough. Ranatan could go galavant with dragons forever, for all he cared. Duties and responsibilities remained. If Lancel was to succeed his father as the family patriarch, he had much to learn. As a gift on his sixteenth Turnday, Kevan presented his son with a firelizard's egg. It hatched in short order, yielding Lancel a bronze, much to his delight. Lancel Impressed to the flit moments later, and soon gave his new companion a name fit for a Lord: Fiero. A few Turns after her victory, Ranalei soon took her father's place, bonding to the Hold wher: Ranalesk. But with this position she'd claimed came power; power she neither wanted to lose nor share. Even with Ranatan gone to the Weyr, threats remained in the form of her cousins. Lancel -- eighteen Turns old -- was the first of them to be pressured. Ranalei made it clear that she wanted nothing of them in her Hold. Ranalei made it clear that she wanted nothing of them -- Lancel or his cousins -- in her Hold. One way or another, Lancel would go. With some well-placed hints that Ranalei wouldn't be above arranging a marriage of her choosing for Lancel for her own benefit, Lancel began to truly fret. What options did her have? All he could see were to succumb to Ranalei's influence and do as she bid -- which was no option at all -- or to attempt to leave in disgrace.
Yet ever the savior, K'tor swooped in once more, offering Lancel another option: to accept a most honorable Search to be a Candidate of High Reaches. It would leave him no disgrace, and even improve his family's standing...should he Impress. Lancel decided with little thought of his own fate. Informing his family, avoiding Ranalei's gaze like the plague, he packed his things and went to High Reaches...into his worst nightmare. Candidates took out their stress and fear on one another, for a weyrling could kiss their careers goodbye should they Impress to the "wrong" color. Greens and whites were declared worthless, and even blues were not immune to scorn. How could K'tor have kept this from him? But K'tor seemed concerned only for his reputation. One of the recent Candidates he'd Searched had been Ranatan -- his own nephew -- and Impressed white; a shining white. R'tan had fled as soon as his white was able to fly, and K'tor was still trying to mend his reputation. Lancel found no aid or comfort in his uncle. Lancel was alone, and he'd have to make the best of it. Every clutch he attended, he'd try to smother the affection for every color of beast in his heart, and rather hope with all his might that he'd Impress to a color the Weyr favored. Not just for his own safety... For his family's honor. Not for K'tor. That vile venomous serpent could vanish between for all Lancel cared.
Left Standing many times over the course of three Turns, Lancel thought this might continue and he'd age out. Yet it would not last. A bronze burst free from his egg, much to the crowd's delight...and rushed toward Lancel. Hoping the beast might look to him, despite the violent temper the dragonet displayed that had him quaking, Lancel stood his ground. The bronze knocked him over in his charge, moving on to find his desired Candidate. Lifting his head from the sand to regain his bearings, Lancel saw the forepaws of another dragon in his vision. Green forepaws, the shade of spring leaves. Lancel... he heard a gentle voice speak in his mind. Swallowing down a sob, he tilted his head to meet the green's rainbow gaze. I am sorry to distress you, but I am your Alezaeth. Come, on your feet. We must stand tall; to show we are worthy. Trying to hide how hard he shook, Lancel got to his knees, only to have a dragonet's face pressed against his cheek, still damp from hatching. Alezaeth sought to comfort him, and she gave a soft hum. Lancel couldn't help but cry a little. No matter what High Reaches thought of greens, Alezaeth was perfect...and she was his. This gentle green had chosen Lancel to be hers... After a moment taken to gather his wits, he rose to his feet and strode to the feeding buckets, head high despite the jeers and whispers that floated to his ears; the weight of the many gazes. The sting of his uncle's glare bore on him from the Stands, and Lancel didn't dare look up; to face the wrath of K'tor. At last, he'd Impressed, to a beautiful and wonderful green; Alezaeth...but what did that mean for them; for the future ahead?
The future of any greenrider in Golre's High Reaches was not a bright one, and the future of Lancel and Alezaeth was no different. Weyrlinghood was an ordeal in and of itself. Constantly harassed by peers and frowned upon by instructors, it did Lancel's self-esteem and confidence no good. After graduating weyrlinghood, Lancel and Alezaeth found themselves at the frontlines. Ordered to fly high-risk maneuvers, the first Threadfall they flew as a fully-fledged pair went wrong, disastrously so. Colliding with another dragon, Alezaeth received the brunt of the other's claws, not to mention the Thread. It scored her and Lancel both, and she went between on instinct, to rid them of the burning menace. Thankfully, they emerged, but the trajectory was wrong, and they crashed in the scrubby forest. Lancel was flung from Alezaeth's neck, and all went still. Lancel doesn't remember much of that day other than the pain, red hot and searing, as he faded in and out. Alezaeth was his only lifeline. Otherwise, he might have died that day. But after what seemed an eternity, the Healer's Wing found them. Alezaeth had them found, projecting to all who would hear, through her pain. Brought back to the Infirmary of High Reaches, Lancel and Alezaeth were treated, despite the hue of her hide. Both were injured rather terribly. Lancel was lucky to still have use of his right arm, after what dragon claws and Thread both did to it.
While Alezaeth made a full recovery, Lancel fell ill. Both were grounded, with Lancel plagued with fever and Alezaeth almost sick with worry. Lancel's injuries -- his shoulder and arm in particular -- had not healed correctly. In this period, so much changed. After one last ill-fated attack on Fort, for a senseless war Golre started, the tyrant queen herself was slain. At last, the misery and torment was over. Yet Lancel still stayed. All this time, even with constant harassment and ever-present danger, he and Alezaeth had remained, even as others fled. Why? K'tor was always lurking somewhere, and Lancel feared for his family. K'tor was his uncle by blood, and rode a beast of senior color. Despite all that faced him, Lancel felt he must stay to uphold the family name. K'tor could say anything to his parents or his siblings, should he so choose. Alezaeth respected his choice, and strove to support her bonded no matter what. Only when K'tor was listed among the fallen in Threadfall in 2762 -- a mere Turn after Golre's demise -- did Lancel decide that the time had come to leave. It was true, High Reaches truly was emerging from its darkest days. But it was still too much for Lancel; the memories were too much. Once he had recovered from his illness and he was deemed fit to fly and go between, Lancel filed for transfer, wrote a letter to his family to inform them of...everything, and fled for Igen Weyr. High Reaches would fall behind them at last. Good riddance.
After everything that had happened, Igen was like an oasis of peace. Yet things were radically different here. At every moment, Lancel expected a jab for the green he rode or a curt order to fly an extra patrol. But there was none of that. It was both heavenly and disconcerting at the same time. But Alezaeth flourished here, and that was all the mattered to Lancel. While though Lancel was still a flighty young man, he'd found a place here in Igen. It would take time for his wounds to heal, but here the healing could begin. It took almost a decade for him to even begin to feel at peace. Everything High Reaches had afflicted upon him haunted him terribly every day; it was a constant shadow at his back. One of his wingmates -- a fellow greenrider -- sought to comfort him; to soothe his fear, even minutely. As a present for his thirtieth Turnday, his wingmate presented him with a firelizard egg. Surprised, Lancel reluctantly accepted the gift, and the egg soon yielded a small blue...whose first decision was to seize a loose thread of Lancel's sleeve and rip a hole in the garment. Upon Impressing the little gremlin, the exasperated Lancel gave him a name: Figaro.
Lancel had admittedly distanced himself from...everything. All he wanted to do was stay as far away as he could from anything High Reaches, and keep Alezaeth from it too. The green was thriving here, and Lancel too; though the former showed such vigor much more than the latter did. Correspondence with his family too was infrequent. How could he explain how terribly betrayed he felt by K'tor, a man who he'd once called uncle? No, it was better for them to know little, save that High Reaches had been a terrible place, but that Lancel and Alezaeth were safe. Lancel only visited a few times over the course of his time at Igen, and while his younger siblings were delighted to meet Alezaeth, Lancel fended off gentle questions from his parents. When word spread of the budding Semaca Weyr and its need for all willing to extend aid, Alezaeth was intrigued at the prospect of going to this Weyr. Lancel hadn't even thought of transferring. What was wrong with Igen? Nothing was "wrong" with Igen...but a change of pace was certainly needed. It would be good, to be a part of this upstart Weyr, apart from the North. Requesting transfer once more, Lancel and Alezaeth departed for Semaca Weyr, hoping for a bright future ahead.
