Doll by Dolldivine

Name: Queslan (Q'lan )

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Origin: Craft bred (woodworking, senior apprentice - toy maker)

Height: 5'8"

Build: healthy, not necessarily muscular but reasonably toned

Skin: fair, with a few scars from his craft on his hands and forearms

Hair: platinum blond, frizzy, grows quickly so he often keeps it in a tail, he will not want to cut it

Eyes: light brown, usually looks reasonably focused

Personality: focused like his eyes, and somewhat forceful when it comes to dealing with anyone he deems of lower importance than he is. While not arrogant exactly, Queslan thinks quite highly of himself. This attitude likely stems from his breeding, only son of a reasonably wealthy family (well, there were two younger girls after him...) and sent to learn what some call a frivolous trade. He takes it seriously, though, because he's actually rather good at it. He prefers to work with detailed tools and existing refined materials, rather than the basics of taking a block of wood and hacking at it until it's workable. He can afford to buy pre-cut wood, after all. He's not likely to enjoy the kind of heavy work that will be involved in dragon riding... All that said, he will take any opportunity to keep on people's good sides, and if that involves bribery, flattery or pretending, that's fine and good to him. As long as there's some kind of return eventually.

History: Searched for Aneris Weyr shortly before he was to walk the Journeyman tables, Queslan (kwess-lan) was initially perturbed at the thought that his ideal life was being upended. But once he got to Aneris he began to understand just how important this work could be. ... And how important he could be in the process.

He did hear the talk behind his back, regarding his profession, his looks, his attitude. Looks could get you reasonably far in his father's circles. Attitude even farther. But he knew that he had to be good at something should those fail. And now, he was meant to become good at being a dragon rider. Well eventually, of course. He had to first get past these blasted Threadfall charts. The lessons were difficult - not because he was any kind of slacker in terms of reading and writing or even maths, but because it was like learning a whole new language, all new math.

When it came down to it, he realized as he was given a passing grade by the Weyrling master, it was very unlikely that he'd have to be the one making or even interpreting those charts. He'd focused on his wood working skills almost all his conscious life - and he knew those skills could become reasonably important, even if not used for their original artistic purpose. His eye for detail could pick up patterns easily - if only they taught those Threadfall charts in the same way as the Dragon Wing formations! Those he aced, he could easily imagine each dragon being a strand of bending wood - he'd done a good amount of twisted wicker-like works when he wasn't doing intricate carvings. The dragons wings could fold and flap, like darts or like parachutes as the need arose. Different woods behaved in those manners: and melded together with the right hands and tools, even the most complex inlay and strength could be balanced.

The greens were like the inlay - sometimes they could overwhelm a piece with their presence, while others they remained in the background adding only a bit of color. Greens flew quick and flamed briefly. Blues were little stronger, but still both maintained the volume needed in any wing. Browns to him were the sturdy material that any good project should be made from. Balancing the rarer Bronze and Gold, keeping everything from falling apart. Perhaps Brown dragons, he thought as he ate and studied another page of formations, were more the binding, rather than the wood.

It was no secret, however, that he was hopelessly apt to snub the idea of a green for him. He wasn't sure how he'd even behave if he was found by a green. Sure, they were everywhere, and ridden as often as not by men as women. He just ... didn't quite care for those men. The women? Certainly - they were complimented by those small, quick green dragons. Truth be told he was more than a little intimidated by the one Gold he'd met, the one on the sands now, but perhaps that was more because she was fiercely defending her eggs from anyone coming near them.

It wasn't completely inconceivable that he was more afraid to deal with a woman who rode such a dragon, than the dragon herself. But that would never be said aloud, and definitely not in his presence. His father's influence? Surely. There were no such women in his Hold, that was certain. Nor, he looked over some of the candidates, like these that stood beside him waiting their turn to touch the eggs. Queslan wasn't terribly good at reappraising his own opinions on things, least likely girls. To him they'd been either Ladies or Drudges. Both with their place, and according to his father that place was of a lower standing than theirs would be. But now...

He knew different, he just wasn't sure how long it would take for him to get used to it. Here were women who were strong limbed and smart-minded, occasionally sharp-tongued - and would fight back as good as they got if insulted. The kernel of respect had begun to grow, in the month he'd spent at the Weyr. Would it continue? Time would tell.

***

--Questions!-- (I'm using those found in the original Whiterock/Sedona as a guide if that's okay)

1. What color do you particularly want to Impress?
I'm torn between several answers

2. Any colors you do NOT want to get?
Green

3. Extrovert or Introvert?
Ugh, just go away.

4. Nervous about the Hatching?
Wow, it's almost time for the Hatching already? I barely noticed the time passing by.

5. Are you a leader, or a follower?
Get in line, peons! I'm in charge here...What do you mean, I'm not even a dragonrider yet?

6. Someone played a mean-spirited prank on another candidate. What do you do?
Help the victim clean up the mess.

7. Some of your friends dare you to go somewhere dangerous. What do you do?
I'd dare them right back. All or none!

8. You find someone's stray pet canine. What do you do?
Ignore it.

***

The next egg to hatch was one of the larger ones. It had been resting near Elanith's forefoot when it rocked backward into its mother's claw cracking it neatly in two. A slightly dazed brown hatchling looked up into his mother's eyes and cheeped before promptly righting himself.

The brown almost strutted toward the boys. His head held as high as he could possibly keep it. He moved as though he didn't need to see where he was going. He knew the direction his intended was in. With his eyes closed, he promptly fell at Queslan's feet. "Oronth, pride is well and good, but you still have to look where you're going," he declared. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat, and you'll soon forget about the fall."