Half-Baked Potato Egg
Broader at one end than the other, uneven patternings and knobby
stipplings along the surface conspire to give this egg a lumpy,
off-balance look. Russet brown forms the base, a solid grounding,
secure in its place. Yet, shadowy whorls open unexpectedly in spots,
one paired set showing pale white in the center: eyes with which to
see, to grow. Rich loam caps the narrowed end, but through it snake
lines of verdant green, reaching, striving—this one will not easily
be eaten.

Half-Baked Potato Egg buckles and dirt-brown shards ripple to the sand
as its dragonet emerges, slowly unfolding himself — backwards —
and comes tail-first into the world. And what a tail it is!

Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet

He's a long, lean drink of water, this laid-back dragonet; neither
muddied nor tarnished, browny-bronze hue crests liquidly over his
crane of neck and all the way down to oversized paws. Nor is he
shadowed; it's the warm reflections of a sun-dappled stream that dance
paler overtones under his belly and over his wingsails, shimmering and
shifting to a true gold at fingersails' very tips. Wide-set eyes
regard the world in a sidelong fashion, intrepidly aware.

A beginning of calm; a wellspring of joy that builds in your mind as
you are drowned in sensation. He is like cool water after the parch
of the desert; the thirst unrelieved that is suddenly quenched with
pools of love and waves of wonder. A ripple; and then an impetuous
tsunami of all the acceptance that you will ever need and could ever
hope to want. Through the incoming tide comes a clear voice, alive
with rapture:

» My name is Ranjith! «

Wolf: Protection, wise, hunting, cunning, intelligent, strong, gregarious, courageous, mysterious.

Mustang: Freedom. Horses gone wild, in all their cycles and seasons, and gloriously silhouetted aganist the horizon.


Ranjith's name comes from the Asian translator in Pegasus in Flight — it's strong, a little quirky, and pretty darn cool. Sound familiar?

Ferdinand the Bull was a rather misunderstood creature whose run-in with the bee caused him to be considered something he was not: momentary anguish perceived as unrelenting rage. And all he wanted to do was sit and smell the flowers. Just sit. Just smell. Just flowers.
Lesson? Be careful where you rest your rump.

Oh, Ranjith's a jaunty, kick-back, laid-back bronze; aggressive? No. Sense of humor? Yes. Plus, he has that pack/herd mentality: protective of the younger set and of the wimmenfolk, whether they're larger or smaller than he is. ;)
He is a large dragon, though, and knows it, and he'll soon find that it's easy to squash poor little humans. (Hi, Magellan!) Luckily, he's also curious and good-hearted, so until he knows someone he's both curious and cautious, so he doesn't get squished something-littler-than-he (including llama-sized beasts) between his talons again. Instead, he's the sort to whuffle them over (sniff-sniff-snuffle-sniff), all big eyes and perked headknobs and up-tilted wings… and step so very carefully. Ranjith is a Nice Guy, see, and will feel ever so bad after his unfortunate accidents with his long limbs, but be warned, that doesn't mean he'll remember…
In any case, once he's been introduced or convinced it's safe to actually play / act himself because they won't get squished (shrill cries hurt his headknobs, too), watch out, world! He's effusive and wildly fun, and not beyond a lick or two. …Not to mention, he believes in paybacks when he or his rider's been crossed, the more creative, the better.
Ranjith is complex enough to play the contemplative wizard (So what if I'm itchy all the time. Use the force, my M'gel) as well as the misguided but well-intentioned apprentice (So I keep flapping my wings… *flap flap flap* *crash* …But you didn't say to stop!). He's into finding new ways of doing Things that many times only make them that much more difficult than they had to be in the first place. (Yes, let's go back to the barracks … but all the way around, with a detour by the lake…) He's also, true to his Magellan heritage, more than happy to aid you in exploring, and provides a wonderful ladder for reaching Way Up High. He and Gyrfath are likely to compare notes for double the trouble. However, weyrling days will be a cramp in world-roaming style, and afterward — well, he still has that bone-deep, blood-deep loyalty. To you. To Fort.

Ranjith retains loyalty to his wing, his Weyr, and those his rider has attached to. Right or wrong, he's for 'em, and when one clutchmate's wrasslin' with another (loyalties to both), why, he's likely to switch sides at any given moment to keep the scales balanced. If someone won, then that'd end the game, and what fun would that be? It's an odd sort of pacifism, but it works for him! (Once he's got at least a Turn or so on him and the seasons start turning into spring, he might now and again do some challenging of the higher-ups—not with dislike, but just to see how far he's come, a young colt seeing if he's ready to take on the stallions.)

A long, lean, cool drink of water, this bronze will slip as easily through shadows as through crowds. At least, he'd like to; as a hatchling, he's too clumsy to get away with easy slipping, unlike his smaller clutchmates. However, this is something he might consciously practice and try to control those big feet (imagine a big bronze tiptoeing through the tulips! :) ). Sometimes, maybe he plays ostrich: if I can't see you, you can't see me—head hidden behind a rock with the rest of him sprawled too-visibly out behind.

His coloring begins with the clear depth of browny-bronze, more liquid than earth or metal … but neither is it mud. (At least, not before he discovers The Lake.) His back and wingsails shimmer and shade with paler overtones, swirling and shifting to become a true gold at the 'endpoints' of neckridges and fingersails, his belly bears a faintly mottled shimmer, as though he stands perpetually above a sundappled stream.

Speaking of water, his mind's that way as well: clear, tangy well-water, with at times a hint of effervescence — except when he's not happy, in which case it can sour to sulfur or even muddy to full-fledged murk. Beware! If he feels an emotion, you're the one who gets to taste it. The colors of his mental signature range from that clarity, to that earthen brown, to all the ephemeral notes in between …the sky reflecting blue within the water, or the green trees, or the shimmers of dusk or dawn.

Physically, he's long-boned, not Big and Powerful so much as 'tall' and 'long', that long drink of water: basketball player, not football, but boy, he'd like to play soccer, and wouldn't it be cool if synchronized swimming were up his alley? His head rises on a true crane of a neck, and is usually held at a curious angle. Sidelong looks are his specialty, often imparting caution, but delight hides there waiting to be coaxed into the full flower of mirth. Come on, he seems to encourage, take a chance…

And, speaking of mud once again, and of taking a chance — imagine him getting all wet and then shaking and splattering water everywhere, a la his wolf totem. And, when he's nervous/upset (or, alternately, puffing up), his neck arches into a most delicious crest, sending his spinal ridges fanning like a ruff or a mane; his nostrils flare, his eyes roll, and he prances. Ranjith is here!

…And so are you. Together. Into the sunset, and beyond.

Egg credits: Kiris
Inspiration credits: Amery, Arien, Kessaly, K'lora, Lysalla, Madri, Toria

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