"Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them."
-Petyr Baelish, Game of Thrones
BASICS
NAME: P'tyr, originally Petyr
GENDER: Masculine
PRONOUNS: Masculine (he/him/his)
ORIENTATION: You think I have any time or interest in a lover? Fool.
BIRTHDATE: Late Autumn 2739
AGE: 33 as of Early Winter 2772
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Apprentice Harper, Bluerider
WING: Starfall
APPEARANCE
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Black
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5' 9" || slender and slim
PLAY-BY: Aiden Gillen
FULL APPEARANCE:
P'tyr is a petite man, with a mere 5' 9" in height, his skin pale. His hair is black, though some gray hairs have already started to appear, and he sports a bit of scruff, though meticulously styled. P'tyr is actually pleased about it, for he finds this silvering to be quite attractive. His eyes are a very dark blue, like the depths of the sea. P'tyr prefers to dress in fine garments, in the cut of a long robe-like article of clothing, always topped with a fine silver brooch of a small perched bird. If he wants to appear especially resplendent, he dons a sash over his shoulder that ends at his opposite hip.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
P'tyr is, quite notably, very ambitious. When he sets a goal before him, he will achieve it, whatever it takes. Gifted with high intelligence, he is a cunning and clever man, which compliments his driven nature. Prone to practicality and logic over emotions, he is suited to both administrative duties and the challenges of Threadfall. Whatever must be done must be done, and he feels no regrets for actions that might hurt some for the greater good of others. At least, that's what he tells himself. This especially goes for if one of his personal goals is to be achieved. P'tyr can be utterly merciless and truly relentless in his pursuits. Yet there are rare moments that P'tyr can demonstrate compassion - true empathy - for others, though he never knows how to act on it. Most often, he will sequester himself away until his feelings return to a normal state.
While P'tyr isn't one to succumb to his emotions, he is a bold man, and very confident in himself. To tell the truth, he is overconfident. Should he believe to have the upper hand, P'tyr will become very cocky and arrogant, and that is when he is most vulnerable. Should anyone cross P'tyr, vengeance will be swift and terrible. Pride cannot allow such a thing, and P'tyr is a calculating, crafty creature. Patience and analysis are two of his major strong points, honed to razor sharpness with Turns of experience and practice. Sheer spite can drive P'tyr to great lengths if he feels slighted, and is likely the only time he will lose himself to his emotions. P'tyr can be quite sarcastic at times, his sharp tongue snapping witty remarks left and right. This can make him both a delight and a nightmare in conversations at times.
P'tyr puts great effort into coming off as friendly and warm to those he engages with, and being quite sociable. Most of this is a tactic to make allies, however. P'tyr overflows with charisma and charm, which he puts to good use to curry favor with those he may need to succeed. Yet P'tyr is undeniably a perfectionist, to an extent. While it is impossible to be perfect, the bar is often set quite high. Vanity is another of his shortcomings. He believes that a tidy and fashionable appearance leaves the best first impression, and takes great pains to ensure he looks his best. It is extremely difficult to predict what P'tyr will do; no-one knows what goes on in that head of his except himself and Inikoth, and the blue isn't talking. More often than not, however, any actions P'tyr takes will benefit the Weyr...or himself. While he feels no particularly loyalty to any one person, he will serve his Weyr very agreeably.
The bond between P'tyr and his blue is strong; nigh unbreakable. If there is any one individual P'tyr is loyal to, it's Inikoth, and the same goes for Inikoth to his rider. One thing P'tyr loves more than all else is flying. It's so soothing for P'tyr to simply glide through the air on the back of his blue, and it's quite common for them to fly under cover of darkness so they might spend time alone merely soaring together, away from the trials and tribulations that life brings them.
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Parents - both farmers - both living, as far as P'tyr knows, though he doesn't bother to check
Siblings/Half-Siblings - none
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None.
BIRTHPLACE: A tiny Fortian cothold best left forgotten.
HISTORY: TW: parental dispute
Petyr was born to tired parents in a cothold of Fort. This cothold was smaller than even most cotholds, with only three total families, each having difficulty having children to succeed them. Petyr was one of the only children of the cothold at the time, and saw no siblings after him. His upbringing was unremarkable, and he was expected to become a simple laborer like his parents. But that wasn't good enough for young Petyr. He knew he was meant for something greater, and he would achieve this something, no matter the price he must pay.
With no option to leave his birthplace provided by his parents, Petyr was doomed to stay. The thought made him bitter and put him at odds with his parents. He knew he had potential to be something other than a common farmer - becoming a Harper was his ultimate goal - yet his parents insisted he stay. Frustrated and determined to make a name for himself, teenaged Petyr sought the counsel of a visiting Harper, hoping to be accepted as an Apprentice. He seemed to pass muster and the Harper spoke to Petyr's family, and after a long conversation, Petyr's parents were finally persuaded to let their son leave the cothold to greater opportunity. Petyr travelled with the Harper with pride. At last, he was going to make his mark. Accepting the guidance and advice of the Harper that brought him from the cothold, Petyr traveled to a cothold in Telgar, to Apprentice directly under a Journeyman with several other Apprentices.
Apprenticeship was a blessing and a curse. At last, Petyr was able to apply his talents to a Craft and ascend in the world! Yet he was one of the oldest Apprentices, at age 14 when he began his training. Teasing was prevalent from a one of the more advanced and older Apprentices, who looked down on the late one. A sense of deep-seated bitterness and resentment bloomed in Petyr as a direct result, and his assumptions that the holdbred and even the weyrbred were all high-and-mighty and pretentious were confirmed in his mind, along with quite a dose of uncertainty, though he vehemently refused to entertain the latter feeling. Petyr strove to stand apart from this crowd and earn his place alone.
During his Apprenticeship, when he was about twenty Turns, Petyr had the fortune to acquire a flit egg from a handout; one of the Journeyman's flits - a little golden beauty - had laid a clutch, and as a gift to the Apprentices, the Journeyman decided to give them out. Petyr didn't think he'd be allowed one, what with his late start and problems with his peers. Yet he was beckoned over and a small sand-filled bowl pressed into his hands, a flit egg resting within it. Petyr masked his surprise and thanked the kind Journeyman, hurrying to a private place. It didn't take long at all for the egg to hatch, spilling a lovely little white in Petyr's lap. He cemented the bond with the little creature, and as Petyr deliberated on a name, it became clear to him. Petyr dubbed the little thing Mockingbird.
As his peers graduated and moved onward to other positions around Pern to work as Journeymen, and some even to the Harperhall of Fort to pursue the option of becoming Master Harpers, Petyr's poor view of them only sharpened to a razor's edge. Yet that wasn't the only thing he possessed. He had honed every other facet of himself to a fine sharpness, electing to dress in tasteful clothing and utilizing every bit of his cunning nature and quick wit. As he awoke shortly after his 22nd Turnday, Petyr expected it to be a typical day of being a Harper Apprentice. This most certainly was not the case, as a pair of Telgar Weyr rode on Search.
As the pair stopped at the cothold, Petyr left the room in disgust, sequestering himself away to work on whatever menial chores he'd been assigned for that day, ill temper simmering under the surface of his calm demeanor. When he had finished every chore on his roster and returned to the main gathering area, the Telgar rider was still there! Apparently, the dragon had detected a Candidate here and refused to leave without them. None of the others of the cothold sparked the dragon's interest...none but one Petyr.
Petyr's first instinct was to refuse. Yet he paused to think. He, out of all others in the cothold, had been selected. And if he successfully Impressed, who knew how high he could climb the ladder? Even as reluctance tugged at his heart, Petyr accepted the Search with nary a trace of his uncertainty. He was taken to Telgar Weyr and entered Candidacy...which consisted of more chores and lessons. It was like being a dragonrider Apprentice! Which made sense, the more he thought of it. Several Hatchings came and went with little fanfare and no dragon for Petyr. That was fine. He was perfectly content to bide his time and be patient. His patience was rewarded...
Petyr... the blue's voice hummed to the Candidate - now weyrling - standing among the crowd of Candidates on the Sands of Telgar Weyr. Come. We have empires to topple; to revel in the chaos left behind. Petyr - now P'tyr - found himself bonded to the finest blue he'd ever seen, and Inikoth was his name. Inikoth was everything P'tyr could hope for: a companion, devoted, and perfectly willing to do anything to ensure their safety. Together, they could go nowhere but up, just as P'tyr wished it to be. They would claw their way to the top, no matter what the cost may be.
Weyrlinghood was nothing too difficult for P'tyr and Inikoth as shrewd as they were, and they graduated with no issue. The trouble began when they entered their first Telgar fighting wing. Inikoth immediately took issue with a wingmate: a brown. Inikoth very much disliked the way the brown kissed up to the leaders and the queens of Telgar, and didn't hesitate to voice his opinions. The brown seemed perfectly agreeable to goad Inikoth on, to the point where P'tyr was certain Inikoth would lose his temper and switch from fighting with words to using his claws.
P'tyr decided to be the adult in this situation and request a transfer, when his Inikoth was about four Turns old, in 2766. Not to a different wing, but to a different Weyr. It wasn't safe for Inikoth to be in proximity to his brown archenemy, with a resentment such as the one he'd nursed. The request granted, P'tyr immediately packed his belongings and left with Inikoth to a new beginning. And a new beginning it was. Inikoth took to Fort like a fish to water, and P'tyr knew he'd made the right choice. They'd rise far here, that was certain.
UPDATES
- Late Fall 2773: In Threadfall, Inikoth has to make a tight turn to avoid a clump of Thread, straining some muscles in his neck. (Moderate)
