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Name: Vaniwrynn, formerly V'rynn.
Age: 56.
Nameday: 3519.04.15
Sex: Male.
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual.
Craft: Dragonhealer.
Rank: Master.
Location: High Reaches.
Physical Description:
Well-built and sturdy, Vaniwrynn stands at 6'1" and is as physically resilient as a Bronze wher. He hardly seems like the kind of man to be in charge of detail work at first glance, but even with his muscle, he moves with a careful kind of grace, every motion well thought out and carrying all the weight of his intent. He has straight black hair most often tucked back into a ponytail, liberally streaked with premature gray and white around his temples that serves as a clear indicator of the stress he's endured. He's handsome, with features that look just a little unearthly, and his almond-shaped eyes are a cold gray--but he never quite seems to look at you, instead focusing on something beyond what's in front of him. He keeps himself at a distance in everything he does, and it's clearly evident in his mannerisms.
His threadscore scars are still just as prominent as the day they first healed, and they form a tangled mass of horrifyingly deep gouges around his throat, across his chest, and wrapping around over his shoulder to his back, as well as branching down his hip. There's some on his legs as well, although they're significantly less prominent; it's truly a wonder that he doesn't have a limp, though. It looks as if the clump of thread caught him in the shoulder and melted down his body on both sides, and he's certain it would have been much worse if he wasn't wearing his riding leathers. At times, he wishes it would've been worse.
Personality:
Vaniwrynn is, above all else, polite and neat, with a truly stunning attention to detail and a soft, if not somewhat sad, bedside manner that carries over into the rest of his daily life. He's a veritable glacier, remaining cool and unflappable in just about any situation--and all the while, he maintains that clinical exterior, freezing out others who try to get too close. It's for their own good, after all--he knows what he's like now, and he wouldn't wish that knowledge on anyone else.
Outwardly, at least, Vaniwrynn is a stalwart, gentle man, focusing completely on what he can do for others, even at great cost to himself. He places only the most token value on his own wellbeing, only putting as much effort into himself as is needed to ensure he can work as well as is possible. As for everyone else, however, there truly is no limit to how far he'll go; if there's anything at all he can do to see them through to the best possible outcome, he hardly hesitates, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the effort. He's no stranger to biding his time, and once he knows the best way to handle anything, be it a patient or a personal decision, he'll act without doubting himself, even though it can take quite some time to reach that conclusion.
He's very much a man of his word, and doesn't take promises lightly--when he says he'll do something, he very much means it, and expects others to keep to their word just as strongly. Vaniwrynn is reliable to an extreme, and sees no issue with fulfilling even the most stringent of requests; he agreed to do so, after all, and so he will. He's a hard worker, to the point of barely having a life outside of his craft, but he's well acquainted with hiding the less pleasant consequences of his work ethic. Vaniwrynn knows what he's doing, and leaves little room for uncertainty both in his work and how he conducts himself.
Internally, however, is something of a different story.
Since Asiloth's death, Vaniwrynn has lost--everything, really. He's far from willing to let anyone else learn just how bad it all is, instead throwing all of his time and effort into working for the sake of others, both to give himself something to live for and to occupy his time enough to where maybe people just won't have the opportunity to approach him in any kind of social sense. Vaniwrynn finds it nigh impossible to truly connect to people anymore, and he doesn't see much point in trying, either. He's fine with professional interactions, or anything where he can rely on a carefully composed script to see him through, but when taken by surprise, he's quick to scramble for an exit.
Very little inspires him anymore, and he hates that he's grown so set in his ways that he can't bring himself to enjoy anything. He's effectively established a narrow existence for himself that consists almost entirely of working--without what he can do for others, he's nothing, as far as he's concerned. Unfortunately, this provides very little room for anything new, and he's grown to dread the idea of any changes in his routine. Change is not something he's particularly fond of, and he'll resist it until there's no other option but to give in. Ideally, however, he'd be so far distanced from everyone that these upsets wouldn't even matter.
Positive Trait List: Precise, dedicated, honorable, sympathetic, resolute, patient.
Negative Trait List: Morose, listless, detached, antisocial, stubborn, self-sacrificing.
History:
[ tw for suicidal ideation and dragon death y'all ]
Vaniwrynn was the youngest son of a Gold and Bronzerider pair, preceded into the creche by his older brother by a single Turn. He was a calm child, albeit one with a predisposition to pranks, and got along swimmingly with his brother--the two were nigh inseparable, and made a name for themselves as generally upstanding kids. Sure, the eldest would sometimes have to cook up a quick cover story or otherwise fish Vaniwrynn out of trouble as a result of one of his jokes, but they did everything possible to fit in with the rest of Weyr life.
When his brother's first Hatching came and went without him Impressing, Vaniwrynn vowed to stand with him regardless of what happened. He'd get his chance soon enough, and jumped at the opportunity without a second thought--both of them were lucky, without a doubt, that this Hatching would prove to be in their favor. His brother Impressed first, with Vaniwrynn barely standing alone for ten minutes before a svelte Blue hatchling would come up to claim him as His.
Just like that, Asiloth's presence changed everything. V'rynn's purpose was so clearly set out before him, and he had a dragon at his side who was more than eager to chase their destiny.
Weyrling training could have been easier, but V'rynn and Asiloth made it through to the other side, graduating proudly with the rest of their class. V'rynn began to kindle an interest in the art of dragonhealing, spurred by his desire to take the best possible care of Asiloth that he could--being able to help others with his knowledge sealed the deal, and he began to study in his free time, devoting as much as he could to becoming a full-fledged master. After much training and even more work, V'rynn walked the tables, repurposing his former study time into traveling to aid others where he was needed. He always returned to the Weyr, of course, but he couldn't stomach the idea of simply limiting his services to one area when they could be so desperately needed elsewhere. Long-distance calls were few and far between, and he preferred staying close to High Reaches when possible.
When Thread returned, he was needed more than ever, although he had to restrict his work to just the Weyr. As much as he hated the idea of leaving others to fend for themselves, the Weyr needed him, and he couldn't deny it.
Fortunately, their training put them at somewhat of an advantage against Thread--they were prepared, at least enough to fight capably. They did their best, to be sure, but their best wasn't enough. The wind changed at the wrong time, sending a massive clump of thread their way from a direction they weren't expecting--it caught V'rynn on the shoulder first, just barely missing his head, and the rest of it draped down across Asiloth like a blanket, tangling in his wings and limbs and eating away at everything.
They went between as fast as possible. It wasn't good enough to kill the clump they were wrapped up in with how deep it had buried into them both, and they crashed into the Bowl, sinking, sinking--V'rynn doesn't remember much more than the pain, the sound of Asiloth screaming, and the rush of water as they broke the surface. Whoever fished them out is a mystery to him.
Both of them survived, although just barely. V'rynn remained drugged into slumber, and Asiloth had to undergo all manner of medical treatments to try and save him. It almost looked as though the pair just might pull through, albeit permanently grounded, given Asiloth's injuries--but the problem lay deeper than that. Asiloth had needed plenty of ichor transfusions, and one of them hadn't gone quite right. An infection had set in, spreading throughout his bloodstream far faster than the healers could have thought; he held on for as long as possible, hoping that V'rynn might wake up just one more time, but in the end, he finally succumbed after two weeks, going between while V'rynn stayed unconscious. He woke up then, but was quickly drugged back into oblivion. Another week later, he awakened on his own, feeling for the first time the gaping hole left by his other half.
And just like that, Asiloth's absence changed everything.
He was Vaniwrynn again, with all the horrible connotations that brought. He was a shell of a man, and everyone knew it; he could see the pity in their eyes, and it made his stomach turn. But his knowledge was too precious now, with Thread raining down on them--while his heart had been ripped from his chest in a way that would never heal, dragonhealers were needed now more than ever. To let himself slip under with a cup of felis would consign so many more to death without more hands and more expertise to care for them when they needed it most, and the thought of another rider being left without their other half because of that decision was--utterly unconscionable. Revolting. Certainly, no one would blame him, but he himself would.
Against expectations, he carried on. Although that final request was at the tip of his tongue all too often, Vaniwrynn pushed past it with all the force he could muster, lackluster though it may be. He had to--for Asiloth. For the good of the Weyr.
It took another month before he could bring himself to treat another dragon; he still slipped up and called them Asiloth. From there, it was weeks until he tried again, and he had to push himself all the while. He did everything he could to push it all out of his mind and focus on his craft, but it never left him no matter how hard he tried. This was too deep a loss to simply numb over time, and Vaniwrynn knew that all too well.
While he's returned to some sense of normalcy now, it's not the same. He knows it will never be the same. He has to keep working, though--High Reaches needs him, and the weyr is all he has left.
Other: why did i do this to this poor man
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