"I am who I am
And I know what I know
But I don't know my way
I just go where I go"
- The Missing Road, Radical Face
BASICS
NAME: Ealar
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
ORIENTATION: Exploring
BIRTHDATE: Late Fall 2759
AGE: 16 as of Early Winter 2775
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Weyrfolk
WING: N/A
APPEARANCE
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Light brown
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5'7" (eventually 5'8"), slim
PLAY-BY: Charlie Heaton
FULL APPEARANCE:
Ealar is on the small side for his age and will always remain so as he finishes growing; there was too much time spent with too little food during his early teenage Turns. This isn't helped by the fact that he's frequently ducking slightly, not sure if he should really be somewhere that he is. He's slim, a state that seems to be more innate than the result of food scarcity since it won't change with time spent at the Weyr. He has an oval-shaped face with a short, slightly upturned nose. His skin is on the fair side, but he does tan slightly in the summer. His hair is fine, straight, and a light brown that in the summer can fade to a dirty blonde but quickly darkens again in winter. He keeps it cut to around the length of his ears and eyebrows. His eyes are dark blue. His voice is soft, somewhat high-pitched.
Ealar tends to wear clothing in muted colors, and seems to take little care in it. His clothing is rarely neat, and he doesn't consider stains to be a flaw in the slightest so long as the fabric is structurally sound.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Ealar is a rather quiet young man by nature, though the situation has recently been exacerbated by the loss of a mother he adored and coming to a Weyr where he doesn't really understand where he fits. He doesn't always know who is "safe" to speak openly to and who isn't, and so he errs on the side of caution and generally keeps quiet on important matters. However, he's rather curious about the people of the Weyr, and he enjoys watching and listening to them.
This isn't to say he's happy and upbeat despite his introversion. Quite the opposite, he seems to be angry at everyone and everything for a situation he doesn't see as fair. He grew up with so little while the Weyr rolls in wealth; his mother died a completely preventable death and he doesn't feel like the world cares about that at all. This anger is usually expressed as silent fuming and sulking, though he will yell at people when his anger is aimed at someone specific rather than life in general. He doesn't turn to violence when he's angry, and actually dislikes it as a general rule due to his father's situation. However, when he's afraid he can snap and start a fight—even when what he's afraid of is getting in trouble and kicked out of the Weyr, a situation which his getting into a fight can only exacerbate. He doesn't think logically at these times.
Authority figures and riders more generally make him nervous. He worries he'll do something wrong in front of them and be thrown out of the Weyr without them. He has a hard time accepting assistance from individuals at the Weyr, concerned that he'll be falsely accused of either stealing from or taking advantage of their generosity. He rarely stands up for himself unless he believes he's in actual danger, and he'll take most insults silently, regardless of how much they infuriate him. He never takes a stand on anyone else's behalf save his family's; it's better not to get himself into trouble for people who aren't even related to him. His family's survival is important, but he doesn't think he owes anyone else anything. He very much looks up to his older brother, assuming that he and his father can prevent most bad things from happening, though he is all too aware that they can't stop everything.
Ealar is creative and artistic, fond of music and pretty things but with a particular love of tapestries and bright woven fabric. Since coming to the Weyr, he's begin to harbor a secret wish that he could have been a Weaver, but he contents himself with just looking. He's begun to do some embroidery as a hobby, but his refusal to ask for either instruction or materials means he hasn't gotten too far. He's not at all musically talented and can't carry a tune at all; music is for listening to for him, not for making.
When he's not in one of his bad, sulky moods, he has quite a bit of natural energy. He prefers to be outside during the daylight hours when he can, finding the Weyr's extensive caverns to be stifling. Plus, outdoors there's more space to do things like climb boulders or hiking up to somewhere secluded where he can simply watch the Weyr.
HISTORY
FAMILY:
Aragon, Father
Rahaneal, Mother (Deceased)
Haron, Older Brother
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None
BIRTHPLACE: The wilds
HISTORY:
Ealar was born to a mother and father who were both branded Holdless before his conception; as a result, life outside of "normal" Pernese society is all he's ever known. He spent his childhood traveling, never sure exactly where they actually were and never really caring. What difference did it make when no place would ever take them in?
From a young age, he looked up to his older brother, Haran, but he was always more of a mama's boy. He idolized his mother, and generally learned lessons from her better than he did his father. She taught him to set traps, to fish, and to make an edible meal out of anything they found (though he would only later learn that the food they made was a far cry from high cuisine).
When he was thirteen, everything seemed to get more difficult. Plants withered, and game grew scarce. There was little food, and even less of the medicinal herbs the family was occasionally able to scrounge up. Things got worse when winter came. They had almost nothing set aside, and there were a lot of nights spent hungry. Eventually, the four joined with another bunch of Holdless in order to pool their resources in hopes of surviving.
Ealar was never really comfortable with the other Holdless. His entire life had been spent with only the briefest contact with other people, and now being forced to spend time around those outside his family he felt awkward and uncertain of himself. He never really grew close with any of them; the adults seemed to be too different from him, and the children far too much younger than he was. He was willing to help look after the younger children sometimes, if only because his mother asked him to, but he developed no real ties to the group.
By the next winter, things were better again for no apparent reason. The blight was gone, and while game was still scarce, there was enough food once more. Ealar thought that maybe it would be a long while before anything else bad happened. He was wrong. Shortly after he turned sixteen, a terrible cold snap settled onto the land while the group was between places of shelter. Ealar's mother died, and with her passing came a grief that he had never known he could feel. That grief didn't pass quickly, but grew into an anger that seemed to settle on him--though in reality, it was only making more apparent an anger that had been building for Turns by then. It wasn't fair that they had to scrabble to survive while out in the Holds and Weyrs, other people had plenty.
Soon after, a bad storm struck. He left two of the younger children in a cave while he went to get firewood, but by the time he returned the cave was just... gone, buried under snow. He searched, but found nothing by the time riders and wherhandlers arrived. Wary of them, he nevertheless approached in hopes that they could find the younger children and, having seen Haron departing on a dragon, agreed to be transported to the Weyr as well. The Weyr was a strange place to him, and he felt even more out of place than he had before. Out of place and angry, because all this time they'd had so much and yet his mother had died for lack of shelter. He was convinced that nobody there could ever understand what they'd been through.