GENDER: Male
AGE: 17
ORIGIN: Danach
OCCUPATION: Pyromaniac
HAIR: A bright orange-red color, spiked with gel to look like his head is on fire. Lends a fearsome appearance to the otherwise handsome young man.
EYES: Red-brown, with strangely light-orange lashes. PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: His skin is almost an orangey-tan. He is blade-thin and quick, but muscular enough to fight his way out of a tricky situation. He is very tall, as well.
CLOTHING: He wears a crimson vest over a bare chest, and long, baggy orange shorts with many pockets. He wears no shoes.
FAMILY: He is an orphan, and his only family is his twin sister, Naani.
RELATIONS: No love interest as of yet.
SKILLS: He is very quick, and a dexterous and talented hand-to-hand combatant. Also, he can conjure fire from his palm.
PERSONALITY: Nove is an arrogant young man, with a very quick temper. He is quite the satirist, and is only friendly with his sister. He shows no mercy to those who invoke his wrath.
GENDER: Female
AGE: 17
ORIGIN: Danach
OCCUPATION: Pyromaniac
HAIR: Very short and wild, it is an auburn-gold color. She spikes it like her brother does, with gel, to look like a flame.
EYES: A strange burnished copper.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Her skin is very white, with an almost blue tinge to it. She is also blade-thin and very quick and agile, almost like a cat. Her body is very strong, however. She is only slightly shorter than her brother, and together they make a very imposing pair.
CLOTHING: Very short, coppery jean shorts, no shoes, and a peasant-style gold top that is off the shoulders.
JEWELRY: She wears large, thick copper hoops in her ears and a ruby belly ring in her belly button.
FAMILY: An orphan, her only family is her twin brother, Nove.
RELATIONS: No love interest as of yet.
SKILLS: She is very quick and agile, almost as good as a champion gymnast. She can conjure fire from her fingertips.
PERSONALITY: Naani is a very haughty young woman with a sharp tongue and a temper to match her brothers. She is also a satirist and enjoys making people squirm, either out of physical or emotional pain. She does have some mercy, however...more so than her brother.
Inside the house where they had been born, their mother lay panting, her brow damp with sweat, on a little blood soaked cot on the floor. The midwife's eyes were wide with anxiety as the dying woman sucked in one last breath of air...and closed her eyes. The babies were asleep in the next room, their own breathing fitful as they wrestled with the demons of their nightmares. It was if they knew that they were orphans, all alone in the world...
Their father had died the month before in a hiking expedition up the mountain that shadowed the little town, leaving his wife, Schmerzie, to the task of raising his children alone. She had not survived to do so, obviously, and that was mostly the reason that the midwife fretted so.
Shaking her head, the midwife--whose name was Saara--walked slowly into the babies' room. She stared down at the twins; one was a boy, one a girl.
"What am I to do with you, little ones?" she sighed. The girl child opened her eyes, and Saara gasped.
The girl child's eyes were like burnished copper and shone dimly in the dark room. They were large eyes, fiery eyes, and they held more personality than the midwife had ever seen in a newborn babe. She shivered suddenly, aware of the breeze that came in from the slightly-open window. The boy child opened his eyes as well. Saara looked back at him, and sighed with relief. At least that child was normal...his eyes were a lovely shade of brown. But his eyelashes...they were an orangey-blond unheard of for a child of Feuer. The midwife turned away and shut the window, pondering what she could do with them. If they were left alone, they would probably die, and she would be blamed for their deaths. However, there was no one she could think of who would take in such strange children; the folk of Feuer believed that eyes like that betokened evil.
Saara groaned.
"I guess I must take you in," she mumbled to the babes. "Though goodness knows I don't want to..." She gathered the two into her arms without a second thought, and left the little house, staying well away from the silent figure on the cot.
Many years later...
The twins had grown; indeed, they towered over Saara, each one more than six feet tall. In truth, she was more than a little afraid of them, with those eyes of theirs and the way they did their hair--spiked with gel to look like flames (one of Nove's ideas, of course)--and she had them live in an entirely separate house. She did feed them, and provided money for their clothing, but she--and most of Feuer--preferred to have nothing to do with them.
This was really best, for the twins desired nothing more than to completely ignore their little town. They considered it much beneath them, and enjoyed each other's company far too much to want other friends.
Everyone was more than a little afraid of them, for it was rumored that they had dealings with evil spirits and could breathe fire. The twins would laugh and dismiss the rumors as idle chitchat, but they grew and spread--if you'll dismiss the pun--like wildfire among the townsfolk. Pretty soon the streets would clear whenever they showed their faces. More rumors surfaced; not only did they deal with spirits and breathe fire, they could also control that substance with their hands and fingers.
Nove and Naani didn't care.
But in the end, maybe the rumors did get to them a little. For one day, after a little spat with the town brats, Nove could have sworn that his palms had grown very, very hot. And Naani's eyes burned terrifyingly; her fingers glowed. The brats ran away, frightened out of their wits, and more than one angry mother had come to their door afterwards.
The twins laughed in their faces.
"'Twas your brats that began our little 'discussion,'" Nove spat, a dangerous, sharp toothed grin on his face.
"Keep them away from us," Naani hissed, "and we'll be more than happy to stay away from them."
Late that night, the two stayed awake far past the time when all lights flickered out in the houses on their street. They sat on the floor, feet tucked beneath them. A candle was lit and placed in between them, and they stared at it for a very long time.
Naani laughed shortly. "We must be insane," she barked, "to believe such crap." Nove nodded, his face blank. He was still staring at the flame, holding his breath. It began to flicker, and he felt his palms grow hot. Naani sat back, her eyes growing wider, excited. She could feel the heat rising in her fingertips, flashing in her strange eyes.
Nove closed his hand in a fist.
The flame went out.
The two stared at each other, and Naani began to grin. She pointed her fingers at the candle, focused all the energy that she felt burning inside.
The flame grew on the wick, dancing in the wind from their movements.
"Naani, do you know what this means?" Nove asked, moving his hands dexterously, producing fire out of thin air that quivered in his palms, apparently without harm to the bearer.
Naani smirked. "We'll save a heck of a lot of money on matches?" She snapped her fingers. His fire went out.
Perhaps it was not an altogether wise thing for Fate--or whatever gave the rare talent to the two--to bestow such wonderous, and hazardous, gifts upon the twins. Whatever the risk, they had them, and apparently would keep them as well.
Already a terror to Feuer, the twins became even worse. They adopted the affliction known as pyromania, using their powers without thought, often to torment the children that were unwise enough to taunt them. Of course, since they could put out the fire again, no one could really complain--once they saw fit to put it out, it was as if the fire had never been there. Plus, the elders had to admit, it was an entertaining sight to see little flaming people run screaming up and down the street...only to emerge unscathed, as if the fire had been rewound, erased.
One day, after having a little fun with the town kids, Naani approached her brother.
"Nove, I've figured out who gave us this talent!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing arrogantly, pleased at knowing something her brother did not. Nove pretended mild interest, at best, until Naani set his hair on fire. At that he grinned, put it out, and listened.
"I read about Rome, this one empire that ruled a long time ago on Earth. It seems they worshipped a goddess--Vesta. She was the Roman goddess of the hearth--"
Nove yawned. "So? What does this have to do with us?" Naani's eyes narrowed.
"Don't you see? It is only possible that she gave us this wondrous gift..." She trailed off, an unwelcome thought occuring to her. "What if..what if she takes it away?" Nove laughed derisively.
"Even if I did believe in this Vesta, I sincerely doubt that she would do such a thing. What have we done to deserve that?" Naani shrugged...
"Still, I've got this feeling..."
Then Faquin came. Faquin was another young man with a talent for wielding fire, and the three hit it off at once. He was slightly less enthusiastic in the subject of lighting people and things on fire, but nonetheless, he enjoyed playing with it and the trio would perform dazzling feats of fire for each other.
One afternoon, the twins convinced Faquin to go and have a little fun with them. They led him down to the little forest on the outskirts of town, and with a wink began the entertainment.
Suddenly, flames erupted from the tree tops, ignited in a dazzling display of heat and cinders. Naani smiled brilliantly, and Nove laughed. Faquin just stood there, his face a mask of blankness as the fire spread from tree to tree.
He reached for Naani's arm.
"Stop," he said, firmly. Anger tinged his voice. "Cut it out right now, you guys..."
Nove gave him a strange look, but Naani, who had a soft spot for the young man, nodded with a sigh, and snapped her fingers.
Nothing happened. The roar of the flames grew louder, and desperation--an emotion that never before had dared to enter Naani's heart--showed upon her pale face.
"I said stop!" Faquin shouted, really angry. He stared at Naani, and realized the truth. "You can't, can you?"
She didn't answer, instead turning to her brother. "Nove, what's going on?" she cried, and Nove shook his head, bewildered, making a fist over and over in an attempt to quell the fire. He cursed, his face reddening. Faquin shot a look at Naani, then ran from the scene.
Once the town of Feuer realized that the woods were on fire, of course they knew that the only people who could've been responsible were Nove and Naani. And the twins weren't stupid enough to stay in a town that already had no reason to adore them.
They ran. They virtually disappeared, as far as Saara and the others were concerned.
And they didn't much care. The townsfolk were not dear to them; they had no care for those who did not share their gift. And they made no attempt to find Faquin; Nove considered him a traitor, and Naani was not bold enough to challenge her fiery-tempered brother.
But they missed their powers.
Naani and Nove felt bare and empty without them. The look of fire had disappeared from Naani's eyes, and now she had normal, boring eyes of hazel. They missed the burn that had consumed their insides whenever they used the power--which was often--and took the gel out of their hair. They felt they no longer deserved that.
Eventually they wandered into a strange place of marvelous draconic things. It was called Ryslen, and although they were not immediately welcomed, they set up camp there, only intending to stay for a short time.
However, they were discovered by one of Ryslen's searchriders, and that plan was pretty much abandoned in favor of a new one: to stand, and perhaps be accepted by a dragon.
In the preparation for the hatching, and the cleaning of the cathairs--it took a very long while, for they were given cathairs that had been fairly out of use, and they were filled with dust and dirt--they mostly forgot about their grief. But it always lurked in the back of their minds, bitter and hollow.
Distracted, they didn't realize that the power was growing again, within them. Naani hadn't looked in a mirror in months, but her eyes had returned to their customary bright copper. And the excitement of the hatching burned in a more tangible way for them than for any other aspirant.
It was only when, without thinking, Naani attempted to light a candle with her finger--and succeeded--that the reality sank in.
They had earned their powers back.
Or at least, she had. Nove barely had his at all, but he was working on it, and it was assumed that soon they would be at full power once again...
Granted they didn't waste it anymore. There was an unspoken agreement between them: no fooling around.
And, for the time being, they were content to use the power in a practical manner...
They were really more interested in the outcome of the hatching!
(authors note: wow! talk about writer's block! ugh. that was pretty bad...oh well.)
Silver-Purple Cszaiath & Copper Yarpath
Yellow-Green Halutath & Brown Porth
As if the attention of Weyrlingmaster D’lrik and his assistants weren’t hard enough to come by, Cszaiath and Halutath raised their voices a few hours before dawn to herald the arrival of their children. Sleepy residents and candidates roused themselves and moved to the hatching sands. Some riders chose to go back to sleep for a few more hours, but the twenty remaining candidates had no such option.
A bit later...
Halutath’s other egg broke a bit more explosively than the first, and the bi-colored contents immediately began fighting. It was hard to tell which cream-red limb belonged to which hatchling, but with a sharp word, Halutath sent them off to find their bonds. Towards a pair of siblings they too went, the cream-red running ahead of the red-cream to stop at Naani’s feet. I’m Lepyrorat! she said, then squealed as the other skidded to a stop, sending a wave of a sand over his sister. I am Fyreator, Nove, the male said with an audible smirk.
I knew it! Lepyrorat crowed, bounding out of the shadows of the cathair where she had been hidden. You're going to get such a smack... Nove cringed visibly while her tail whipped 'round in frenzied jubilation as she bounced.
There was a sharp bugle from the other side of the cathair, and Fyreator got to his feet, stalking over to snarl at his sister.
You stay out of it, he growled, rearing up on his hind legs. Nove is going insane, stuck in here; he needs a little entertainment. Lepyrorat snapped at him, then slunk away to sulk, shooting strong feelings of anger at her brother.
Go dump him in the lake then. Fyreator sighed and dropped to the cool floor.
She always needs to have the last word, he groaned to his bond. Nove nodded, amused.
"Just like Naani."
