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Tanvarian's weyr

Holder Tanvarian, male, age 16 turns. Born in Paveh hold, and usually associated with the runners and races. His father, Vorai, is a holder with a vested interest in the betting going on around the racing arenas. Mother Teranan is an experienced Lady however she is not always looked upon as a "true" lady, in that she loves to actually ride her runners, ... in races! Tanvarian is the younger of three siblings, with one sister between he and his brother. He is a very lean, long-limbed boy who will always be more wiry than bulky. He is able and willing to do heavy work such as lifting bales and tack, so his potential in the Dragonriding arena is not limited by a weak consititution. His skin is deeply tanned from being outdoors, and his curly hair is a bright sunny blond. He has pale green golden eyes, which are usually glancing over some holder girl or Lady. Tanvarian likes to describe himself as a go-getter. He is never above a good prank, however he usually makes sure that no one gets hurt. Most of his skills revolve around Holds, Runners or betting -- his math is exceptional and his organizational skills are highly developed. If he has a failing it is love of the speed that runners have, the wind in his hair and joy of cutting loose on a Thread free day have often made him most late for household meetings. As the younger son, however, he is not expected to inherit more than a little from the Hold.

When still a young boy, Tanvarian had his first experience with a dragon. One of the blue search dragons from a nearby weyr had drifted through Paveh Hold, and he was sniffed at -- but not Searched. It took several more tries, as he grew older, to actually become officially searched. There were simply more qualified candidates present, when he was passed up. What people don't know, is that he has a remarkable knowledge of things past. His dreams are if not always prophetic, usually having to do with very accurate information about the Ancients, a Weyr or Hold, or some person. He usually writes these dreams down, though he wonders if he Impresses whether they will continue, or if he will have time to devote to exploring them even further. He has no pets, but his family owns a number of the better quality racing runners of the Hold and should he desire one to ride anywhere, he has but to ask.

"Isn't it about time that boy did something productive?" Asked Vorai. His wife raised an eyebrow, and smiled over her sewing. "He is young, and he is handsome. What more does he need?" She said. Vorai looked out the ledge window of the cothold they resided in during the warm summer months. It overlooked a flat where the runners would prance about, and in the fall, they would race. Tanvarian stood among the runners with a long rope, teaching one of the young runners the finer points of turning quickly. Tanvarian rarely needed to use the whip in his other hand. "He's good with runners," his mother said. "Leave him to them." "Ah, and be like his mother, eh?" Vorai smirked. "No, there is something about him that begs more. You've seen it, Tera." She sighed. "I have. But it is more than a young boy growing into a man's body isn't it." Gruffly, Vorai nodded and leaned against the small kitchen counter. "Tera, he should be sent to a weyr." The holder's wife lowered her hands, needle sticking where it lay in the cloth. "Vorai," she started, but her husband raised a thick hand. "He is the right age. And he has been Searched. There is a nearby weyr, what is it called?" Teranan closed her eyes and said quietly, "Mooncrest." "Yes. That is the one. There are fine, beautiful dragons there. And besides, with Paveh Hold being filled to the brim with young lads like himself, he would have to prove himself among them sooner or later. And..." "And you do not think your own son could hold his own among young Holders? Then how could he around riders? They're so..." She shook her shoulders back, "rough." Tanvarian had finished lunging the runner, and was now giving her a good brisk brushing before leading her back to the hold's stable. His parents both ceased their talk of dragons and holds before he came in, but there was something in the air. The tanned boy brushed his hair from his face, still sweating from the summer sun. "Well. This is fancy. Aren't you two usually talking or arguing about something?" "Yes--" "--no!" They both said at once, glanced at one another, and each privately scolded the other, without a word. Vorai took in a deep breath and laid his hand over his son's shoulder. "Tanvarian, you're going to be old enough to marry or start your own cothold soon." "Ohhh," Tanvarian groaned. "This speech. I have heard it father." "Not this one," Vorai said, quietly. WIth the power that he usually had over his son, but with no malice, he said, "and you will hear me out this time." "Yes sir." Tanvarian lowered his eyes from his father's brilliant green ones. "There is a weyr with a green's clutch on its sands. Mooncrest Weyr. A small clutch, but they have good dragons. And I think you should consider standing there instead of chumming with the Hold boys and ladies. You're suited to a rigorous life like a dragonrider's." Tanvarian paused, his eyebrows held high. He shifted his gaze to his mother, who was more passive but seemed to grudgingly agree with her husband. "Well that certainly wasn't the speech I had thought I was about to get!"

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