C'leb's Ominous Storm-Blue Jeresath
Flying Trunk Egg
Diamond glitters as the dew's early morning grace, setting fir boughs with nature's most precious jewels and most treasured gift. The evergreen gowns worn through summer and winter are sundered with the matte grey flash of sharp-hewn slate, leaving matchstick splinters to litter the egg's smooth surface from wealth's aristocratic point to peasant's dullard curve. Yet the mundane flares to life with a sputtering, brilliant flame of hottest cyan and molten gold—that all too soon wanes to a bare sooty smudge to mark beauty's passing.

Flying Trunk Egg sparks, splinters, evergreen toppling into flame-rich shards that fan out across the hot sands before the dragonet revealed within.

Ominous Storm-Blue Dragonet
The evening sky glows through the high arch of this dragonet's neck, down along the stretch of bulky belly and lean-muscled legs, smooth and sleek to the tip of his tail. Long, dark wings are an ominous storm, night's own blue stretching matte and velvety between wingspars in muted, mottled glory, while hints of the coming clouds rest in gold-tipped grey talons.

Impression Message: The sands darken under a storm-blue shadow, the looming presence capturing all perception in his intense, challenging gaze. Low and smooth at first, the voice rolls deeper, echoing thunder with every word: » I'm bigger than you. «

My name is Jeresath! «

Name and Theme
Jeresath just had a nice ring to it, something strong and smooth, with that three-syllable appeal. We thought it sounded great with C'leb. And like the biblical Jeremiah, Jeresath thinks of himself as the prophet of doom.
Jeresath takes himself, and his job as the bearer of dark portents, very seriously. Like a scientist or hired consultant, he watches things carefully and offers his opinions but doesn't necessarily expect them to be followed. He's a careful observer who's fascinated with puzzling over the workings of humans and dragons alike and eagerly offers ideas about his field of specialty (and maybe others, too). But when disaster strikes because people don't heed his advice, he'll just shrug those draconic shoulders (metaphorically, if not physically). Definitely not above the well-timed 'I told you so', Jeresath will nearly delight in bringing bad news, especially if he thinks it's the result of someone ignoring his suggestions.

Oh, and suggestions he'll have! From hatching on, it's obvious that this blue feels no inhibitions about butting right in. He's apt to wedge himself into every conversation quickly and with ease, even with dragons he doesn't know, and he tolerates idle banter just fine. He adores proposing ideas, but like C'leb, he doesn't have to be a leader and can feel just as smug when people /don't/ listen to him as when they actually do. When he thinks of opinionswhich, by the way, he'll have about almost everythinghis lucky lifemate gets to hear about /all/ of them. » That smell means it's going to rain. Yzmoth doesn't eat enough. This drill is pointless. «

As a hatchling, he's apt to express a bull-headed stubbornness about every one of his decisions. Weyrlinghood will be full of trials like this as Jeresath tests his limits (when he finally concedes that he has to have some). Once he thinks something, it's difficult to persuade him to consider any alternative—unless you're C'leb. His lifemate is the only one that Jeresath takes as, or even more, seriously than himself. C'leb is also the only person allowed to tease young Jeresath, and the dragon will always prefer his lifemate's kind of humor to anyone else's.

As Jeresath grows up, he'll mellow out, make room for others to express some opinions and get better at taking the occasional joke from, say, Etryth. He may even develop a sarcastic humor of his own, which fits perfectly with his cynical nature. Just like his quick introductions, he adjusts fast to any position in the Weyr. Gopher? Fine with him. Sweeps? Alright. Wingleader? He'll do just fine. When it comes to making major decisions, he may just leave it all up to C'leb (but don't be surprised if he vehemently believes that the desk belongs on the left wall of the weyr).

Underneath that all-knowing, all-seeing image he tries so hard to maintain, there's a dragon who worries he mightn't know much after all and only wishes he could see everything. It's his Deep Dark Secret (tm), that he'd only, maybe, infrequently admits to C'leb. And when he does, he's at his most vulnerable, and that's when he needs C'leb to be at his strongest.

But to everyone else, he wants to be the Dragon of Steel and Fort Weyr's very own prophet at the same time. He'll get a real kick out of fanning his wings ominously to impress, or even scare, people. And when the time comes to learn to kill his own food, he'll be in heaven. Tearing flesh as fearsomely as possible is right up his alley, » I am big and fierce and deadly! « Don't be surprised if he ends up disgusting the more fastidious eaters in his clutch. And boy, wouldn't it be fun to take a vacation down near Boll, so he could hunt wild prey.

Once he matures, Jeresath will be typically willful when it comes to flights, harnessing all of the energy of his inspiration and entirely unimpressed by those sweet-talkers—but like the storm when it passes, if he doesn't fly his green, he's not apt to sulk for so /very/ long: a soak in the lake will do him wonders. He may want you to make note of things to remember for him for next time, but he holds no grudges. Should he indeed fly her, when the tumultuous passion's done, that's when this ominous fellow turns gentle, affectionate, and absolutely uninhibited about crooning over the exquisite arch of her neck or whatever's caught his fancy this time. Such a mood may even last a couple sevendays before (as with all dragons) she's enough out of cycle and he forgets, leaving just an aftertaste of warmth to soften their later interactions.

Similarly, rare little things may unabashedly charm him: not just any squalling baby, that's for certain, but when C'leb gets around to siring some, he'll be peculiarly patient. (Most of the time, anyway.) As an example, you might hear in his usual abrupt tones, » Sing that song again, C'leb. So she giggles. « If you want to sniff the roses, he may heave a sigh, but indulge his rider anyway. And just wait 'til he spots his first rainbow and wants to try and fly to its end!

Jeresath is pretty medium-sized, for a blue, but try telling him that. He's convinced that he's bigger than anybody, and he looms over clutchmates and older dragons to prove it. Think big, and you'll be bigthat's his motto. That arched neck of his is perfect for looming, too, and the dark wings only lend to his presence. Those wings, though they're matte and dark, are the almost purple but definitely blue of the sky just after sunset. Spread them in full sunlight, though, and it's like a storm breaking before the lighthave you ever held a piece of construction paper up to light? Jeresath's wings have that same mottled glow.

Bodily, he's pretty scrawny as a hatchling, but in his quest to be /big/, he'll bulk up through weyrlinghood and into adulthood. He'll always have a healthy appetite and an appetite for exercise. He may not lift weights, but he's got the same mind-set, building up strength and muscle so that he can challenge even the biggest bronzes in the clutch! And relative to their sizes, Jeresath'll beat out svelte soccer player Sparneth and lean distance-runner Yzmoth in sheer muscle mass.

Like Vyath, he has a disgustingly healthy constitution. Combine this with the fit body he works for, and you can be pretty sure the dragonhealer won't be seeing much of Jeresath as an adult. For his size, he's got unusual stamina, and will be hard-pressed to admit when he's burned out. Especially during weyrlinghood, phrases like » I'm not tired. The healer says I'm fine, « precede every nap.

You'll have to watch the underside of Jeresath's neck, where he's especially itchy, and right along the joint of wing and body where he's apt to get strains as he presses his limits. Those places will be a constant trial during weyrlinghood, especially during the first few months, and afterward you'll always have to extra careful with his oilings.

Jeresath's voice is the storm just beyond the horizon, low and smooth with the scent of rain on the breeze. There's a resonance echoing in his mind-voice, too, that only increases when he's taken by some strong emotion. At that time, his voice deepens and rolls like thunder, coming closer until the storm breaks at last. Strong emotionthat's not just angerand joy bring on the thunderous voice, as when he found you, C'leb, on the Sands; likewise during flights, once he matures and recognizes his desire, and during important moments in your life. Indeed, it will only grow deeper and more mellow as he matures … with you! C'leb, we hope you find your way back to Telgar for a visit someday—if just long enough to get your father's reaction, and then come home and tell us all about it!

Sire: Ranjith
Dam: Vyath
Egg: K'rill
Inspiration: Arien, Miafah, Zephre

Note: Please pretend this inspiration was made with plasticine — you can always squish it into some other shape at will! You, and only you, know how to play your lifemate best.

Updated July 16, 2003 by Zephre

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