Doll by Dolldivine

Name: Zarin (Z'rin)

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Origin: Sailcrafter

Height: 5'9

Build: lanky, very lean

Skin: dark tan, large threadscore on right arm

Hair: rust red, natural dredlocks to mid-back

Eyes: sea blue

Personality: Mysterious

History: As the son of a mariner and his favored shore-leave sweetheart, Zarin led a reasonably pampered life. Though his mother wasn't a strong backed sea-farer like his father, she taught him many interesting skills, not the least of which was something he put to exceptional use on the sea: stitchwork. While other boys might have balked at being taught a 'girls' skill, Zarin realized that in order to keep a boat rapidly skimming the water, its sails had to be in good shape. Thus, any stitchwork he did was secure and almost never came loose. His mother also taught him how a girl likes to be flattered and wooed: when she saw how handsome her son would become, she knew that he'd be a catch, just like his father had been.

Though she would never ask that either her lover or her son remain on land for any length of time, Zaefah knew that the seas were dangerous, and that fact was born out by the loss of Zarin's father Rannik, and the wounds that Zarin sustained under Threadfall.

But thread would fall anywhere: sea, land, farm or Hold, it didn't matter. While Zarin was recovering from his thread-score wounds in a healer hall near the port where his father had once been treated himself, search riders made the rounds. Zaefah wondered momentarily if it wasn't more dangerous on a dragon's back than in the endless ocean, but there was never any question that her son belonged in motion - whether it be on a ship, a caravan, or a dragon.

***

It was a very small clutch, at least as far as Zarin thought of them. There were plenty of candidates like himself, young and eager to claim their stake in a Weyr. His arm was still a bit tender, but no longer covered in bandages, when the hatching began to occur - at nearly midnight. That was fine by Zarin, he could hardly sleep with it anyway - it still twinged when he moved his fingers, and would probably never be painless.

A number of the shells were rocking, one had already opened, by the time the bulk of the candidates and any onlookers arrived. It was cooler at least, Zarin was used to the sea breeze and while the sun beat down on the ocean he could always douse himself with water! Here, it was just sweltering, he longed for winds and...

I long for that too! Wind! I like you, do you like me? I am hungry!

Zarin blinked, he wasn't sure he was seeing right. After all, it was midnight and the hatching had been frantic. No, no, he really was seeing a purple dragon! Well... maybe... she...? She, okay well it was a female purple dragon - maybe if it had been a male, he could claim that it was an exotic shade of brown? Not to be! And that was not even an issue for him, once the dragonet asserted once more, I am hungry!

Dallath was her name, he knew it and he blurted it out to the records keeper nearby as they swaggered into the kitchens. Dallath, his own! By the time morning rolled around, and the sun began to actually show off the new hatchlings in all their glory (glows just didn't do them justice!) Z'rin knew he had something special indeed.

There was a purple dragoness nudging his hand for more food and some much-needed scratching. Z'rin thought to himself as the others stared at her: if there was ever a way to get attention from the ladies? A purple dragon would probably be it!