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Mariska of Blue Mikith

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Mariska of Blue Mikith



" May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true "


NAME: Mariska
GENDER: Female
PRONOUNS: She/her/hers
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

BIRTHDATE: Early Fall 2729
AGE: 39 Turns as of Early Fall 2768
WING: Daylight

EYES: Brown
HAIR: Black
WEIGHT: 155 lbs
HEIGHT: 5'8"
PLAY-BY: Irene Bedard
Mariska is on the taller side, with a sturdy, muscular build and relatively broad shoulders. She has a rather oval-shaped face, with high, defined cheekbones and eyes of a dark enough brown to appear almost black. She has a relatively dark complexion and straight, black hair that almost reaches her waist, which she usually keeps in a single braid, tucked into her flight jacket when she flies. Her left arm and shoulder bear heavy scarring from burns, as well as her right forearm and the back of her hand.

Despite her height, she tends to look somewhat smaller than she really is, with a slightly hunched posture and a tendency to not look people in the eye. She rarely smiles, save for when she is with Mikith.

Though never a particularly talkative woman, ever since losing Yenzith Mariska has been an extremely quiet woman. She doesn't often speak unprompted to those she isn't especially familiar with, and when she does speak it's in a low voice, as though she's afraid someone might hear her. By nature melancholy, she tries to act cheerful for the sake of others, but it isn't a particularly good act, as she rarely smiles and her tone never quite matches her cheery words.

She is protective of those she is acquainted with, and is almost always worried that she could lose them somehow. She cares deeply for all of her friends, and to a lesser extent the entire Weyr, but wouldn't hesitate to harm one member of the Weyr if she thought it might save a friend. She only has a few close friends, able to get her to laugh and smile, but even they are no substitute for her blue, who she hates being separated from for long periods of time; were it possible, she would never leave his side at all.

Despite all the Turns since Yenzith's death, Mariska is still terrified of storms, and is frequently plagued by nightmares. When she has them, she often hides, along with Mikith, in her weyr. Once she might have taken shelter with E'li, but since his passing that is no longer possible.

Mariana, Mother
P'ska of Bronze Farvoth, Father
Petriana, Younger sister
Born at Fort Weyr, Mariska was the daughter of a bronzerider and his long-time weyrmate, a beastherder. Her childhood was largely happy, and she grew up with little doubt in the direction she would take her life; she would learn beastherding like her mother and, if a dragon so chose, she would be a rider like her father. Her father was always distant, busy with his dragon and his duties and the war, but she was close to her mother, who taught her herding, as well as her younger sister.

It seemed, however, that fate did not mean for her to be a herder, for when she was twenty-one, after being left standing many times, she finally Impressed to a small brown, so dark as to be nearly black. Yenzith was everything she had hoped for, noble and kind, and she quickly became good friends with one of her fellow Weyrlings, E'li, for their dragons were of a similar nature, and he was much like his dragon.

However, after graduating from Weyrlinghood, they were thrown into a war that neither she nor Yenzith wanted, but they would both do their duty nonetheless. And they did their duty, fighting against other dragons, using firestone on people from other weyrs, no matter how it made Mariska's stomach turn.

One fight was worse than the others. It was storming, the wind driving the rain so hard that it was hard to tell friend from foe by sight; the dragons had to be the ones to tell, for nobody's patches could be seen in the dark. It was cold and wet, and Mariska was glad for it to be over, asking Yenzith to take them home, when a bronze's flame caught them by surprise. Mariska was able to duck in time, shielding her face with her arms, but the brunt of the flame hadn't caught her. It had caught Yenzith, and they both knew what it meant.

Repeatedly she asked him to go between, to take him with her, and repeatedly he refused. Unable to control his flight with his ruined wings, he crash-landed into the mud and there he died, refusing to take his rider with him.

For Mariska, everything after that was a haze. She knew it was E'li, by then the Wingsecond, who finally pulled her from the straps, who made sure that she was seen by a Healer for her burns. She was even vaguely aware that every time she woke up in the infirmary he was either there or arrived within minutes. But it was herself that she wasn't aware of. More than anything she was numb. She didn't feel sadness or despair, she felt empty, devoid of feeling.

Eventually she healed, or at least her body did, enough to return to herding. She was aware that people stared, but she didn't care any more than the master herder at the weyr cared when, sometimes, she forgot her duties entirely and just spent a day staring at a rock, or when it stormed and she refused to leave her cot until the thunder stopped. Sometimes, if it was night and he was in his weyr, she would hide with E'li, safe with her friend, but mostly she was alone.

It was months before she said a word, and Turns before she could manage any semblance of normalcy, but she still refused to so much as look at a dragon. Even Raiseth she kept as far from as possible, not willing to avoid E'li just because he was still a rider. Eventually though, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could attend a Hatching and, when she next heard the humming that signaled the start of one, instead of huddling in her cot she found E'li and flew down with him to the Hatching. Touched a dragon that wasn't Yenzith. Flew on a dragon that wasn't Yenzith.

The Hatching brought back memories and feelings that she had thought were long forgotten, lost. When she cried, E'li let her, and when a blue couldn't find his match on the Sands, he didn't stop her hiding her face in his shoulder because she couldn't watch a dragon go between. It took E'li and two blues, Raiseth and one much, much smaller to convince her that the blue wasn't going anywhere.

Your Mikith is here, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.

For the second time in her life, Mariska Impressed, only this time it was to a blue, and there was no more war. Weyrlinghood was as busy as she remembered, and having been through it once already didn't make it any easier. She still had to learn how much to feed the small blue, how much oil he needed, and eventually she even had to learn to anticipate how he moved in the air.

The hole that had been left in her heart by Yenzith's passing wasn't filled in by Mikith, not by a long shot, but instead it felt as though a different part had grown larger in an attempt to make the hole more bearable. And that was... a certain kind of okay. Things slowly stabilized in her life, and a sense of normalcy returned.

Until E'li was murdered, and the one person she trusted aside from Mikith was suddenly, cruelly taken from her. And though she'd stayed at Fort, her lifelong home, through even her dragon's death, this time she couldn't bear to remain. She left, transferred to Telgar, leaving all of the things she didn't want to think about far behind.

Life at Telgar wasn't really any easier though. She fit into her new wing quickly, her and Mikith both fulfilling their assigned roles well, if somewhat robotically. Though everything unpleasant was left behind her, so was everything that was good and familiar. She found it difficult to connect with people, and while she was able to perform her duties, she became almost a shut-in otherwise. She ate her meals quickly and alone, and when joined by other people would simply abandon whatever she hadn't finished, always giving some excuse. She never quite got used to the cold, or the length of the winter nights, and sometimes she found herself taking a turn, half expecting to see a different room entirely until she remembered she wasn't at Fort at all.

She stuck it out a couple of Turns, but things never really improved. Still, she had no desire to return, until news reached Telgar of an attack on Fort. It had been Benden. Mariska didn't know if that meant war was coming again or if it would be an isolated incident, but in either case, she could no longer stay away. She would return, to defend her home if necessary, to spare others the same fate she had suffered.

  • Has returned to Fort to help in whatever capacity she can
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NAME: Mikith
BIRTHDATE: Early Fall 2759
AGE: 9 Turns as of Early Fall 2768

LENGTH: 30 ft
HEIGHT: 7 ft
HEX CODE: #5387D0
Mikith is a small and rather dainty blue. He is thin, and every movement he makes is very graceful. He is hardly one to be overlooked, and is one of the more beautiful dragons in his clutch. He is a light, almost sky blue color with darker swatches blending throughout his form The tips of his wings are a darker ocean-blue color. He has sharp markings on his wrists, and lovely, dark swirls trailing from his nose down to the back of his neck. It looks like he was painted, or perhaps it is music twisting over his form.

Mikith is perhaps one of the kindest dragons ever hatched. He tries to be personable and kind to everyone he comes across. He respects the colors higher than him, though he does sometimes worry that because he is small, no one will respect him in return. He is generally an optimistic blue, and very talented at speech and memory. Unlike most dragons, he remembers up to 5 days instead of 3, and will have quicker memory retrieval than most. He can be very shy, especially when meeting new humans.

To his bonded, Mikith will be very supportive, and very friendly. He will try his hardest to make sure that they are never unhappy, or at least not unhappy with him. He is very lost without his bonded, however, and will constantly search for them as long as he is able to. He is on good terms with most other dragons, though he wants all of them to be the best they can possibly be.

Voice: Mikith has a very soft, almost timid voice. It is occasionally mistaken for a female-sounding voice, but it is more of a light male's tone. He speaks passionately.
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