Candidate Altair

[Felina]

The Basics


Where did you hear about Castaway Weyr?
Zen's advertisement on Rugged.

• Name: Altair
  
• Age: 25
  
• Gender: Male
  
• Rank: Candidate
  

Physical

• Hair: A light brown with darker roots, bleached lighter than it otherwise would have been by the sun. He wears it just past his ears, though it's somewhat messy at that length. He doesn't seem to mind.
  
• Eyes: Large, dark brown
  
• Height: 5'6"
  
• Weight: 130 lbs
  
• Anything extra:
  If there is any part of Altair that can be absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent certain, it's that he's a complete break from the stereotypical mountain man: rather than being tall and stocky, his head falls below the chin of many taller women and most men, and while heavier than he used to be, the tailors can still be heard to mutter about the fact that he's too thin, and why do they have to alter everything that wasn't made for him in the first place?
  
  Don't let his stature (or rather, his lack thereof) fool you into thinking that he's a weak fool, however. Concealed beneath the loose clothing that he by habit wears, he's actually quite muscular. Altair has a strong jawline, though it, too, is frequently hidden beneath a thin scarf or his hair, and a rather broader nose than he would like. For all the masculinity that the rest of his face portrays, however, his eyes rather detract from the image, large and a dark brown, with faint laugh lines around the edges. It's hard to conceal it when you smile so much. And smile he does, regardless of the fact that he is slightly buck-toothed.
  
  Of his colouration, it is fairly obvious that he spends much of his time in the shadow of the mountains around the hold, attempting to eke a living out of the rocky soil. His skin is extremely pale; even the light of Rukbat filtered through the thick trees and redirected by some of the ore-containing rocks above cannot change that fact. His hair, however paradoxically, is lighter, bleached out by the sun and perhaps the salty waves.
  
  Overall, Altair could be deemed fairly attractive. Definitely good-looking enough to be sought after by a number of young women. If only his heart weren't already set on someone else
  

Extra

• Personality:
  or the most part, Altair is one of the happiest people that you will ever meet. It's a rare moment that he's not smiling, not joking around. Occasionally even likened to a Harper in his love of wit, he does however possess a slight tendency to offend, quite likely due to his sometimes rather aggravating brand of sarcasm. Unlike a Harper, though, his musical ability is absolutely nil, though that doesn't stop him trying to carry a tune or beat, the frequent elbows to his ribs going ignored. His particular philosophy involves being able to do something that you love, ability for said something notwithstanding. Or rather, lack of ability. It's been surmised that he's somewhat tone-deaf. However, a highly stubborn streak runs through him, and he refuses to quit trying, regardless of how horrid he may be.
  
  There is, for all the jollity, a darker, brooding side to Altair. He is quite careful to keep this face hidden from the public, and when he's in one of his darker moods he is wont to keep to his quarters, either by himself or with Corenne. During these times, he is as unpredictable as a green runner, and can go from raging mad to near-suicidal in less than a minute. Perhaps, with the medicines present on Terra, these moods could have been controlled; however, Pern not being Terra, they are allowed to continue as they will. Fortunately, his competency as a Holder has not been questioned, as they rarely if ever last more than a day or two, before subsiding from anywhere between a month and a Turn.
  
  For all that he has two distinct faces, Altair is as suspect to human emotion as any other person on Pern, Tau Ceti, Terra, or otherwise. He can have sad moments without descending into total despair, he can have angry moments without going into a nearly uncontrollable rage, and he can indeed feel love, as anyone else can. Perhaps this is most evident in his ardent defence of Corenne's rights, whatever the arguments against her. Or perhaps that is only a second, second to his stubborn refusal to give up trying to convince Corenne that she can, too, be a Holder's wife. Or would have been, had he been a Holder for longer than a few short months.
  
• Family:
  Parents: Philippe (deceased) and Siné (deceased)
  Siblings: Dannet (deceased), Carpaen (deceased), Elling (deceased), Kjell (deceased), Erstil (23), Meena (20)
  
• Pets: None
  
• History:
  Luckily for his parents, frazzled as they were by the prior antics of four older boys, two of which hadn't made it through their second Turn, Altair was an exceptionally biddable young boy. He never attempted to run off outside during a Fall, he never attempted to keep a tunnel snake as a pet, he never tracked mud into the Hold for the drudges to clean up, and he never ever gave his parents a difficult time. Note the key word there: his parents. That wasn't to say that he didn't get on the nerves of other parents. Primarily, Corenne's.
  
  As a three-Turn old thoroughly confused by the sudden disappearance of his favourite elder brother, she had been someone to turn to when he needed a friend. Though neither one of them really knew what the word 'death' meant, they had both been made that much more lonely by it. Perhaps it was simply that which they held in common, or perhaps it was a bizarre twist of fate, that he would meet the one he was to love so early in life. Not that he was to know that just yet, still too young to understand death, only able to understand that she was his friend, still young enough to believe that they could stay little kids forever and play together forever and be friends forever.
  
  Corenne's parents were the ones that they would run screaming to when they had found a tunnel snake in a cave just outside the Hold. Corenne's parents were the ones they would run crying to when one or the other had managed to trip and cut themselves on a rock. And thus, Altair's parents were able to escape much of the day-to-day parenthood that Corenne's parents had suddenly found doubled. Things continued that way for two more Turns, as happy as could be.
  
  Altair was five when he and most of the other children in the Hold got sick. He found the spacing between his getting sick and Corenne's getting sick exceptionally aggravating, and was positively gleeful when, two full sevendays after he had been declared cured, so had she. Even at five Turns old, he was not yet old enough to comprehend that his best friend was no longer the same as he was. He found it difficult not to laugh on the frequent occasions when she tripped over obvious steps, or uncharacteristically ran into the middle of a wall. However, a few months later, as she slowly became accustomed to her own differences, he ceased to notice, and came to assume that she was just a bit more clumsy than most people.
  
  When he was eight Turns old, his eldest remaining brother was Searched. At first, he couldn't have been happier, because on top of getting to know his brother was good enough to be a dragonrider, he got to go attend the Hatching with his mother and father and two younger sisters. Afterwards, he wasn't nearly so happy. Rather than being allowed to see his brother Impress, he had gotten to see his brother die. But when the young bronze had gone on a rampage, there really was nothing that anyone could do to intervene. Including Altair.
  
  Lonelier than ever before, he again turned to Corenne, his best friend. For the moment, he didn't want anything to do with learning how to run a Hold, even if it was to eventually become his duty, as the eldest remaining son. It was somewhere around that time that he came to terms with the fact that Corenne really was different from him, that there had been a reason why she had burst out into tears every time he had asked her what she thought that a particular cloud looked like. And that he realised he didn't care, because she had been his friend before he knew and she was still his friend afterwards.
  
  Most of his childhood progressed in much the same way, though considerably changed in certain aspects. Rather than senselessly trying to convince Corenne to play tag, they spent a lot of time reading together, he giving her something she had forever been denied, never having had the opportunity to learn how to read and write.
  
  His teenage Turns changed him more than he ever would have guessed. More than anyone would ever have guessed, really. Victim not only to the typical hormones that all of that age get to bother with, Altair found himself inexplicably angry. Not all of the time, just at particular moments. But at those moments, he felt as though he wanted to kill someone, anyone. And yet at the same time, he felt a despair nearly deep enough to want to kill himself. Thankfully, these moments were few and far between, and as he slowly learned to predict them a day or two in advance, he managed to sequester himself in his rooms for the duration, feigning sickness, only to emerge a day or two later, miraculously 'cured' before a Healer could be convinced of its seriousness by his distraught parents.
  
  It was at the first Gather that Altair actually danced at, rather than making faces at the dancers, that he discovered something about both himself and Corenne, though at the time it nearly passed unnoticed. Though he had travelled to Rugged while she remained at Liftan for the duration of the festivities, every single girl that he danced with became an unmistakable likeness of Corenne. At first he thought that she was simply average-looking, so that a lot of people really did look like her. But then he started noticing that this girl's eyes were a much duller shade of blue than hers, and that another's cheeks were a lot more flushed than hers that rarely showed much colour. And so, hardly knowing it, Altair fell in love.
  
  And he never did fall out of it.
  
  Nine Turns later, he only twenty-three Turns of age, he was driven to do his duty to Hold, Hall, and Weyr by a freak hurricane. Though the sturdy sailboat that his parents had last been seen on were sturdy enough to withstand even the most massive of normal waves, nothing could have survived that storm without shelter. When the skies cleared, and three sevendays passed without anyone hearing of them, either within the hold or without it, they were given up as lost. During those three sevendays, there was one concerned face that never failed to be there. One person who he could not have done without.
  
  For the next Turn, his younger sister did the duties that his wife should have done, had he had one. But somehow, he never could work up the courage to just out and ask her. There was always that nagging worry in the back of his head, bombarding him with uncertainty every time he thought that he just might do it. “But what if Corenne doesn't love me in return?”
  
  She did. But always, she declined. He never would accept her excuses. He ignored her protests that she couldn't do what a Holder's wife should do, that how could someone without sight perform the proper duties? But she, too, ignored his protests that his sister was doing just fine in the position that she was in, and that neither she nor her husband were unhappy about the current situation.
  
  But his own arguments fell on deaf ears. Still too stubborn to give in, he would persevere in trying until one of them died or gave in. Either he would die and that would be the end of it, or she would die and he would gladly follow, or he would give in and find someone else, or she would give in and both of them could get what they wanted.
  
  But even that wouldn't be the end of his story, now would it? Of course not. Their lives could never be so simple, could never allow a happy ending. They lost their home and their livelihood when their home, ostensibly built out from the mountain, was crushed in a rockslide, everything in it destroyed. The next couple of Turns, Holdless, were the hardest either of them had ever experienced.
  
  But then the utterly unexpected, the all-too bizarre happened. They were Searched. Or he was. Corenne was too old, and Altair had noticed the way he had immediately dismissed her when her eyes failed to meet his, failed to register the hand he put out in greeting. As protective as ever, he insisted only on one thing: that she come, too, not to partner with a dragon, but to stay with him. He would not leave her alone. Obviously disgruntled with the idea, but seeing no alternative, the Rider relented, and together they went to the Weyr, together only to be torn apart again by the meddling Fates.
  

For Candidates Only:

• Sexual orientation: Heterosexual
  
• Colour preference(s): You decide on this one; I really, really, really don't know
  
• Desired post-Impression name: A'tair or, for even more simplicity, 'Tair, if an honorific without a first letter will be allowed.
  

FUDGE tastes quite nice.

[Pi]

Approved.