" Nothing in this life worth achieving is easy, nor is it impossible. "
BASICS
RETIRE INFO: Retire
NAME: Fi'cre
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
ORIENTATION: Asexual aromantic
BIRTHDATE: Late Spring 2732
AGE: 38 Turns as of Late Fall 2770
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Rider
WING: Moonshot
APPEARANCE
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Brown
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 6'1", slightly chubby
PLAY-BY: James May
FULL APPEARANCE:
F'icre is around average height, and a little on the chubby side. He's prematurely a bit wrinkled, with fine lines around his eyes and a few close to his mouth. His hair is a light, mousey brown with some hints of gray already starting to show in it around his temples, kept relatively long and allowed to go pretty much wherever it wants. His face is large and rectangular, though his features are all relatively small. Narrow lips, small eyes mostly hidden under large eyelids, and a nose that looks like it belongs on another man's face. His ears at least are large, though those are mostly hidden.
He tends to dress somewhat frumpily, often found in oversized knit sweaters, or shirts with bright patterns made of fabric that was probably never actually intended to be a shirt. In short, he really has no fashion sense to speak of, though he doesn't particularly seem to mind this fact.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Fi'cre is a man who has spent his whole life seeming old. Older than he is, for certain. He was practically crotchety as a child, and as an adult he's only gotten worse. He complains about young people as though he isn't nearly one himself, swearing that they don't really rely on themselves the way people used to. Not that he believes High Reaches was always a good place to be—a bluerider who lived through the war hardly can—but he still refers to the way things were fondly. People knew what was expected of them. He knew what his place was.
He likes stability, and to take things slow and safe. He wants to know where everyone and everything fits, and can't stand disorder. High Reaches' ever-changing political climate frustrates him to no end, because he doesn't understand why people keep wanting to switch things up. He just wants things to be predictable. He is quite risk-averse, and is mostly known to his wing for being almost obsessive about safety when it comes to flying. He will rarely participate in any competition, because those can involve stunts which he considers to be dangerous (but usually aren't). However, on occasion and when absolutely certain he's alone, he's been known to giggle like a little boy during a dive with Nesiteth.
When he's not busy being crotchety, he's actually rather sweet. On Earth, one might even have referred to him as "grandmotherly". He has a habit of feeding people tea and cookies, and his hobbies include knitting people sweaters and mittens for the colder months. He'll swear up and down that he's not doing it out of any sense of affection, but deep down he really does quite care for most people.
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Mother, Sofia of Green Iuath
Father, Joircre of Brown Rahometh
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None. Ever.
BIRTHPLACE: High Reaches Weyr
HISTORY:
Fiacre was not a boy that anyone ever particularly expected would become a rider. Even when he was young, he was set in his ways. He liked to build things, and swore that he would become a Smith and that was the end of it. And he did, for a time, become a Smith. He was rather good at it too, being skilled at seeing how things were meant to go together.
However, as much as High Reaches needed Smiths during the war, they needed Candidates for their dragons more. Rather against his wishes, he was pressed into candidacy. He assured himself that it would be fine; that he would never Impress and that he was in no danger of having to become a rider under Golre. For a long time, he was right. He didn't Impress. Turns passed, and the war ended, and still he did not have a dragon. But with the war ended, the danger was also passed, and no longer quite so against the idea of a dragon—and not quite thinking about the fact that Thread would soon return—he stayed on as a Candidate.
Perhaps it was mostly force of habit that made him do it. Perhaps some part of him actually wanted it. Whatever it was, Fiacre was only a few weeks from aging out when he attended what would be his last Hatching regardless of his outcome. And there he was: Nesiteth. Quiet, surly, and quite opposed to everything about High Reaches.
Fiacre, now Fi'cre, practically hated him on sight. If he was going to have a dragon, why couldn't he have had a nice dragon? A dragon with some measure of good sense, who didn't view basically the entire world with disdain? A dragon who didn't practically dare bronzes to pick a fight with him out of some misguided attempt to prove that even as a blue, he was still better than they would ever be?
Fi'cre spent most of the next few Turns trying and failing to keep the two of them out of trouble.
When High Reaches attacked Fort again, Nesiteth jumped at the opportunity to prove himself. Sure, he hated High Reaches, and had his rider even thought about defecting he probably would have gone along with it immediately. But Fi'cre did not; High Reaches was home. High Reaches was familiar. And so Nesiteth fought for High Reaches despite despising just about everything about it.
When all was said and done, the pair made it through remarkably unharmed—physically, anyway—and Nesiteth was more than a little glad that Golre and Vizeth were dead. High Reaches could rebuild without her, and be better. He was all in favor of the new democracy, despite his rider's trepidation about the idea. Since then, they've mostly kept out of trouble. A bad Threadfall saw Nesiteth kept out of the air with a torn wing for a while, but other than that they've mostly been fairly lucky.
Though Fi'cre has some mild concerns about the fact that one of his more inept classmates is the Candidatemaster somehow.
