"If I ever leave this world alive
I'll take on all the sadness
That I left behind"
~ Flogging Molly, If I Ever Leave this World Alive
BASICS
NAME: Chaneil
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
ORIENTATION: No.
BIRTHDATE: Early Spring 2759
AGE: 17 as of Early Fall 2776
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Candidate
WING: N/A
APPEARANCE
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Blonde
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5'10" (eventually 6'0"), average
PLAY-BY: Louis Hoffman
EXPY SOURCE: N/A
FULL APPEARANCE:
Chaneil is around average height for his age and about average in build as well. He has a long, rather angular face that's usually settled into some sort of vaguely grim or disinterested expression. He has fair skin, blue eyes, and short, straight, sandy blonde hair. Too much time outdoors tends to make him sunburn. Despite his usually dour demeanor, he actually tends to wear a lot of fairly bright colors, and little of his clothing is in dark or neutral shades.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Chaneil is a dour, down-in-the-dumps sort of fellow who seems to think that every moment that someone appears to spend happy is in fact a moment spent lying. It can't possibly be the case that everyone isn't just as perpetually gloomy as he is, they all have to be making it up. He's a pessimist at heart, assuming that everything that can go wrong will go wrong. He doesn't waste time worrying about it, and isn't really anxious, he just always expects the worst of everything and everyone.
Chaneil's favorite word in his vocabulary is "no". No, he doesn't want to help. No, he doesn't really care about you (or anyone, himself included)--but at least he doesn't really dislike anyone either, because dislike is a form of caring. No, he doesn't really want to be a rider but that one at least he can't admit to; after all, at least riders don't have to learn a craft. He's a little ashamed of his total lack of coordination when it comes to fine details, or even penmanship that doesn't look like a fire lizard trod in the wet ink. He can tend to give up very quickly on tasks that don't immediately go well, since if he doesn't succeed the first time... well, clearly he can't do it, why waste his time trying?
For someone who doesn't particularly care about people, he's actually pretty outgoing. He's not exactly friendly, but he'll speak to anyone readily enough—at least it's something to do. He's just also perfectly content to tell everyone else just how wrong he thinks things are going to go.
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Mother, Raichan of Green Crishtoth
Father, Drassail of Blue Ascoeth
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None
BIRTHPLACE: High Reaches Weyr
HISTORY:
Born the son of two riders who didn't have a whole lot of time for him, Chaneil never really knew his parents. He knew of them of course, but they never really factored into his life. That was fine. He didn't really care. He had the creche caretakers after all. That was more than enough for him.
He was never particularly skilled at things like arts and crafts projects, and while other children proudly sewed their first extremely lumpy pillows he couldn't even thread the needle. And once it was threaded for him, he just couldn't make the stitches go in a straight line. It was the same story with learning to write: despite not struggling with reading, his penmanship bordered on illegibility. There was no shaking in his hands, he could see everything perfectly well, but fine motor skills were just beyond him. It didn't help that he tended to rapidly give up on things at which he didn't immediately excel, but even at those things which he was mandated to persist, such as writing or tying his shoelaces, he continued to flounder. It was quickly apparent that he was not one of those who would pursue a Craft when he was old enough.
For a while he wondered what he was going to do. There wasn't anything he really wanted to do, which was the problem. He didn't want to be a Crafter even if he could have been, he didn't want to live the dangerous life of a rider or wherhandler, he didn't want the tedium of life as a drudge or doing menial work like cooking. (Plus a few incidents with knives while peeling tubers had convinced him that cooking was not the life for him.)
In the end, he settled on becoming a Candidate. It was a way to maybe delay a choice, or maybe have one made for him. He still didn't want to be a rider, didn't particularly look forward to probably dying young in some horrible Threadfall accident... but even that did sound better than being bored to death sweeping out hearths or mucking stable stalls. He'd take not boring, he supposed.