" I was never angry with you. I was sad, because I was afraid you'd lost your way. "
BASICS
NAME: Iroh
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
BIRTHDATE: Early Winter 2714
AGE: 57 as of Late Summer 2772
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Wherhandler
WING: Sunburst Squad
APPEARANCE
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Gray, heavily balding
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5'4", broad
PLAY-BY: Iroh (ATLA)
FULL APPEARANCE:
Though certainly not even approaching tall, Iroh is by no means a small man. He's muscular and carries some extra weight on him. On some this would be an intimidating build, but on Iroh it just makes him come across as jollier. His face is rather square, widened by his rather copious facial hair and bushy eyebrows. Unlike that on his head, it's plentiful, and he keeps it neatly groomed in a beard that reaches his mid chest. His hair, where it's present, straight and dark gray, reaching his upper back; it's completely absent on the crown of his head. His nose is slightly broader than one might expect even on a face as wide as his. His eyes are a medium brown, set somewhat out from his face.
He dresses fairly neatly most of the time, though it's clearly not his first priority. He prefers clothing with a looser fit, in neutral tones or green.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Iroh is an eternal optimist. He has seen people at their lowest, at the worst that they can be, and he's seen enough of them rise above it that he's eager to see the best in all people. Almost nobody is irredeemable--and the downfall of those who cannot be redeemed is something to be mourned, not to be celebrated.
He has a love of tea, finding the act of making it to be a peaceful ritual to be enjoyed even more so than the final product. He's quick to offer to share with anyone who passes by his door early in the evenings. He also loves sweets, though has no aptitude for baking himself.
He sees himself as wise, and likes to share this wisdom, whether or not it's wanted, or in fact whether it is wise at all. This is usually in the form of aphorisms, though how much sense it makes to the listener varies. He can be slow to recognize or admit to his own shortcomings, and some things--his fondness for taking things slowly, or his love of sleeping in--he refuses to call faults at all. Isn't it just nicer to relax with a cup of tea than go out and pretend at fighting Thread.
Beneath the quiet and calm surface, however, seethes an anger that he has sought to quench for Turns without complete success. When sufficiently pushed, the violence he is capable of doling out is swift and performed with little in the way of mercy. It's only later that he'll feel remorse and attempt to atone. He still regrets the things he did as a younger man, and isn't sure that anything he does will ever be enough to undo it.
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Nephew, Zuko
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None
BIRTHPLACE: High Reaches Weyr
HISTORY:
Iroh was born the son of dragonrider parents at a time of prosperity for High Reaches. Though raised in the creche it was always made clear that he and later his younger brother, Olazai, were expected to become riders. His parents often spoke of their high hopes for both of them during their occasional visits. Iroh never resented the expectations; after all, they weren't mandates. He just never really intended on living up to them, either. When he turned fifteen, he refused the chance to stand at any clutches, instead stating his desire to wait until he was seventeen and try for a wher.
His brother, younger by just over a Turn, impressed to a bronze before Iroh could even stand at a wher clutch. O'zai was more than willing to gloat about his success, about how their parents would surely love him more now that he was a rider like them, and Iroh wasn't anything at all. Iroh was certainly jealous of the joy they showed when their younger son Impressed. He wanted to serve High Reaches, just as O'zai would. He just didn't want to do so with a dragon.
It was just over half a Turn after turning seventeen, and soon after the declaration of war, that he had a chance at a wher egg, and was given a small one. It hatched a bright green, Irohsk, and he loved her immediately. His parents were proud, but he still felt a sting at realizing that they weren't as excited for him as they had been for O'zai. It only hardened his resolve to prove that he was every bit as useful to the Weyr as a bronzerider.
The realities of war were not happy ones. Even if the involvement of wherhandlers was limited, they were still a part of it. And Iroh was eager to prove that he was a part that could benefit his home. He worked hard through Weyrlinghood and beyond. There was one bright spot just over three Turns after Irohsk's hatching: the birth of his son, Luiroten. Iroh was absolutely besotted, and despite his duties made sure to be as much of a presence in his son's life as possible. War may have been an unpleasant thing, but the times he spent with the growing boy were good ones.
For Turns, things continued. Iroh served Golre with unquestioning loyalty. He knew on some level that some of what he was asked to do was wrong, but he justified it both outwardly and to himself as being for the Weyr. He could work toward becoming squadleader, the greatest position he could aspire to as a wherhandler. He would continue to make his parents proud, and be a father that his own son could be proud of. And his son was indeed growing, wanting to become a rider like his grandparents and uncle.
Luiroten had just turned fifteen when a clutch was laid, and at that first clutch he Impressed. A bronze, becoming Lu'ten. Iroh was ecstatic; he'd brag about his wonderful, loving son who had Impressed a bronze to everyone he met. He'd do so much good for the Weyr--they both would. It was a validation of everything he was doing for High Reaches, proof that it was how things were meant to be. Until it all came crashing down. Lu'ten was killed in a raid toward the tail end of the war. He was barely eighteen.
Iroh withdrew. How could he not? The boy he'd loved so much was gone. And for what? Golre's expansionist policies? What good was bringing more land under High Reaches control if the people who mattered were dead? If Iroh had hoped to find any understanding or solace in his brother, O'zai, he swiftly found he was wrong. O'zai only spoke of Lu'ten's failings. That was why he had died. It was his own fault, or possibly Iroh's failure as a father, never mind that Lu'ten had been raised in the creche just the same as they had been themselves. A rift that Iroh had never before noticed between them swiftly grew, and soon they barely spoke.
Somehow, Iroh was okay with that. After Lu'ten's death, he simply couldn't find joy in anything. What good was a relationship with his brother? He couldn't defy Golre, however, and continued to obey, but any initiative he'd once taken was gone. Where once he'd been in consideration for a squad leadership position, he was instead passed over. His regrets continued to grow, but led to no action.
The war ended: not with any final great conflict, but with a whimper. The signing of a treaty. It changed little at High Reaches. Thread came, and that too changed little. Gol're led two final, fatally flawed raids against Fort Weyr. Iroh learned only later that during the last, the one that had caused Gol're to lose her life, his brother had been killed as well. Maybe that should have been a wake-up call for him. It wasn't.
At last, things began to change at High Reaches. Slowly at first, with a greenrider "Weyrwoman" who wasn't a woman at all, but the changes accelerated. The Weyr formed a Council, and some of it consisted of people who weren't riders, let alone bronze or goldriders. Wherhandlers were given an explicit seat at the table, and a man with no bond at all became Weyrleader.
And then Iroh met his nephew. He'd known of him, of course, but he'd never gone out of his way to interact with him, as he was much younger than Lu'ten. Zuko was everything O'zai had been: fire and brimstone, anger at the world and desperate to find his place in it. Iroh was determined to help him find it, all the while aspiring to be nothing more than a member of his squad, helping with Thread where he could. The glory and power he'd once desired were long-forgotten dreams.
