YAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIwtfever your name was, dun matter no more, IILI! We like that. IILI. You’re STUCK WITH US NOW, AHAHAHAHAHA— ahem. The question remains: /are you afraid of the dork/? Whatever the answer may be, we have only one thing to say: may the dork be with you. Since, you know, he will be, from now ‘till you both die! « Well… actually… » SHUT UP JHIO! – Taram, Alys, Lida, N’ayl
Iili’s Are You Afraid Of The Dork? Brown Jhiovharameyth
it started with an egg; an egg made up of … fail …
Fail Egg
Uncanny, this egg of air and darkness is: gracefully covered by shreds of shadow and cloaked with tatters of sere beauty, a sinister purpose looms beneath this eggshell-thin veneer. Flimsy, the translucent frays of fabric are; the opaque darkness of the color lies between true-black and deepest violet, wrapped in provocative swirls downwards, ever downwards. Not all is as it would appear at first glance, however; pudgy and broad-based, the shell scandalizes with rolling swells of flabby peach where twilight fails to flatter.
… which hatched a dragonet made up of … er … fail …
Fail Egg flakes and founders before finally failing: eggshell crumbles in a miniature avalanche of variegated color: black slides foremost, slowly fading to darkest violet, oil-slick opalescence and finally fair-kissed peach. In the wreckage, a gargantuan blob of brown cowers under a single shard of black ‘shell: it’s the end of the world as we know it! Or at least as Are You Afraid Of The Dork? Brown Dragonet /knew/ it.
Are You Afraid Of The Dork? Brown Dragonet
As big as a barn! As wide as a warehouse! Grainy hide fails to flatter as the drab color of saturated klah grounds covers his jet-puffed bulk. The texture of tone does little to assuage the awkward lines of a layer-immersed face: indeed, his range of vision is nearly occluded by overwhelming scale of chunky-cheek’d temerity. If only he could shed a few pounds! His sheer size shocks; the details nearly drown in the vast presence of his mottled, lard-assed self. So many fat rolls — they /must/ generate some kind of force field — and what is that /smell/? Awkward bulk is awkward: marked by a broad back and deep-girthed chest, his short stub of a tail matches well the stocky shortness of legs. Soft, pudgy paws are only dubiously unique in that they outsize the rest of his sizable structure. If only the camouflage of granular color was smoother! If only he were shorter — no, taller — no, skinnier! A wonder of dragons and a dragon of wonders: how can he /move/? How can he /fly/? His narrow wings bemoan ever lifting his bulk, as scant in length as they are in width, and dusted generously where wing meets back with sifted, powdered sugar — or are those flecks of dandruff? The only self-evident truth is a grim reality: the dork is strong with this one.
… who finally overcame failing to make the smartest decision of his young life …
Public Impression Message
Are You Afraid Of The Dork? Brown Dragonet is done flailing around. His bumbling, rumbling path takes him through a scattered arc of candidates, and he picks up steam slowlyless pac man and more ohgawdhesuptospeedandhecantstopOMFG! As he narrowly avoids accidentally HULKSMASH GODZILLA STAYPUFTing one tall, skinny boy from Boll, a pudgy paw is misplaced and down he goes with a crash and a bang in few paces off from a skinny Trader girl. As he levers himself back up to his feet, his head swings unerring towards her: man, something smells NICE. He wanders a little closer. A liiiiiittle closer. Is he nervous? He ducks his head and shuffles the remainder, like a spooked runner sidling closer… closer… there! You didnt see him at first, DID you, Yaiili!
Private Impression Message
Y'know… something's not right. Where there was nothing, there is a sudden presence. It's a little disconcerting. That is, until… « SO. UH. » SMACK! Smack. Noisy eating infiltrates as a nervous, squeaky voice originates out of the darkness. « Hi. Uh… hey. You wanna see my wings?! » The voice - definitely male - squeaks and breaks. Awkward silence ensues. « No? Okay. So… uh. YOU CAN STAY IN HERE WITH ME FOREVER AND EVER! » If you didn't know any better, you might think he'd hoard you away like the latest, greatest expansion-pack in his mother's basement. Hunger gnaws sudden, a deep gorge to be filled with… delicacies. « I mean out here. Out there. Really. » Powdery dust of neon orange flares awkwardly, nervous, a foreign whiff entirely, er, MENTAL. Is that… cheese? Is that a… puff? « You're mine! Mine, mine, mine! » Silence screeches words to a halt. « And now you can feed me, Iili. FEED ME! » HUNGER. A sudden conveyer belt of scrumptious-yet-slightly-overdone cheesecakes marching through your mind dribbles into rancid grease as EMBARASSMENT flares bright. « Uh. BY THE WAY. » Will this awkward nerd-boy /really/ get his girl?! « I'm Jhiovharameyth. »
Theme
Ghostbusters.
Oh, Ghostbusters. Those wacky parapsychologists… Who ya gonna call?! Ghostbusters! Do you REMEMBER Egon? Do you remember the nerdy keymaster?! Do you remember the hot chick, back when she was hot? Yeah! This movie summarizes everything your dragon is, wants, and aspires to be:
… the hot chick he’ll never have.
… the suave player he’ll never be.
… the nerdy guy — wait. He IS the nerdy guy— that guy that answers a question of what he does for fun with, “I collect spores, funguses and molds.” Grammatically correctness?! Who needs THAT?!
… he’s may also be that crazy guy that ALSO tries to get the hot woman with the big round glasses and awkward moments from hell.
He’s not cool enough to be a scientist. He’s the DORKY NERD, cursed forever with the giant Stay Puft-sized body with all those FAT ROLLS.
They wreck havoc! They wreck BUILDINGS! Really, the only pertinent question is, just who are YOU gonna call when your delightfully nerdy, over eager, over interested brown gets in trouble?!
Egg Inspiration
It always amuses me when people wear Dark and Mysterious(tm) or So Sexy(tm) clothing that, uh, lacks a key variable: being size appropriate. I see them every year, and it seems almost a defining Halloween trait for me. So, thus, Fail Egg was born!
Name Inspiration
The most-lovely Lida supplied the initial inspiration, and a bit of fiddling on-channel yielded Jhiovharameyth. WHAT, do you ask, is that inspiration? Oh, you know, just a little of this, a little of that.
A little of Klingon.
Specifically;
lupDujHomwIj luteb gharghmey = My hovercraft is full of eels.
Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam = Today is a good day to die.
And thus! Jhiovharameyth was born! Obviously we took, ah, liberties with the strange manner of Klingon words to make it flow, and long, and not-too-feminine, and not-too-harsh! We feel that although Jhiovharameyth would disagree with having a hovercraft full of eels (unless they were sweet pickled eels of delicacy!) or that ANY day is a good day to die (srsly), we feel that his name is awesome enough to make up for the random, dorky origins of it.
Taram pronounces it JHEEO-vara-maeth
N’ayl pronounces it JEEo-vah-rayo-meith (though the Jeeo might rhyme with ‘pew-pew!’… like lasers!)
Lida pronounces it Jheeo-VARA-mayth (because she likes to be different)
Alys says it like: J-EYE-Oh-var-amayth.
Personality
My pokemon brings all the nerds to the yard
and they're like you wanna trade cards?
Darn right, I wanna trade cards,
I'll trade this but not my charizard.
Oh Iili. We hope you aren’t too attached to your life as-it-was, because with Jhiovharameyth in the picture, life will never — ever — be the same again. From that first touch of his culinary mindvoice, he will be a pervasive presence if only for his innocent lack of understanding for those important things called ‘private thoughts’. They don’t exist to Jhiovharameyth. The first moments after Impression may feel the oddest, but they certainly won’t be the last odd thing you’ve felt!
Jhio, in a word, is a geek. A dork. A nerd. Take your pick. He is that dude. Yeah. You know what dude I’m talking about. The dude that Fyren is going to show you a picture of and make you gag because… that’s what Fyrens do. While not quite ‘People of Walmart’ worthy, since he can’t POSSIBLY dress up in a sailor moon costume on Pern… imagine the amount of fabric that would tak—
« Well, actually, it would likely have to— »
Shut up, Jhio. We’re not talking to you yet.
On top of having no idea of what an internal filter is (sorry, Iili, you’re STUCK knowing every single thing he ever has to think of! )… he’s THAT geek. He’s that geek that feels the burning, soul-deep urge… no, NEED to explain how ANYTHING works to ANYONE else. Even if it’s someone important. Even if it’s you. Even if he may not know exactly how it works himself… From the very start, you’re going to have your hands full with trying to keep up with the vast amounts of knowledge he desires. This isn’t an academic urge; he’s never going to want you to sit down and read him the latest Harper treatise on interhold marriage. He’s not going to want to listen to the Master Beasthealer’s latest report on gastrointestinal issues in caprines. Now, if you can find something with a lot of cool pictures of swords and/or half-naked women (human women— what? He’s weird. He doesn’t even care that he’s weird, either!), he may become interested. If you could rummage up a card or two from that trading card game slowly twisting over the face of Pern from the black market, he would get REALLY interested. He’s not a cool geek. If he was a person, he wouldn’t be Steve Jobs or even Bill Gates. He wouldn’t even manage to be somewhat self-redeeming as a technological wizard. He’d probably shun the mechanics of regular computers, preferring instead of stick to console-based games. Not the retro awesome ones or the cool new ones, either— we’re talking about those games that are at least five years old, that everyone has played and is bored with. He would be the guy working on his thirteenth perfect run of FFVII, working at gamestop and living awkwardly out of his mother’s basement.
So that is to say that — no, Jhiovharameyth’s urgings are not academic, or even really noble, for he doesn’t care to learn about a tremendous amount of things just to know about them. Instead, he just needs /you/ to know as much as you can about /everything/. After all, his memory is horrible, and you’re much better at this than he is! He’ll even whine to you about it—sometimes in absolutely senseless ways.
//« But Iili… if you don’t learn about dolphins, how am I
ever supposed to be able to get Auralyth to REALLY talk to me?! »
« She talks to you already, nimwit. »
« Yes, yes, but… but… if you knew more about dolphins I could impress her more! »//
Iili, we genuinely hope that you don’t mind… staying indoors. Jhiovharameyth, for all of his ginormous potential, doesn’t seem to understand this whole ‘being a dragon’ thing very well. Flying? What? Obviously that’s his superpower — that and the whole teleportation thing… and the telepathy thing… — but he doesn’t exactly like exercising them, in any manner of the word ‘exercise’. He’s rather lethargic about most physical activity, preferring to limit his exertions to EATING (OMG, Iili, EATING! Food! Lovely, delicious FOOD!). His interests will tend to lie towards “indoor” type events, some of which doubtless will drive you to distraction… and argument. Iili, you will NEED to be his motivation, especially in weyrlinghood, as he’ll have some kind of genetic or build predisposition to thicktail, and lack of movement will only compound it.
//« Uh… Iili… » Rancid grease chases day-old bread in a morbid parallel to stuffing, the entire combination as appealing as dogshit slathered on burnt toast. « I think… I think it’s happening again. »
« Damn it, Jhiovharameyth! I TOLD you that you needed to get off your lazy ASS and WALK after eating that HUGE dinner! What is your PROBLEM!? This is the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK! »//
All we can say is: have fun. You’re not the only one to have a desire to smack him silly, though— we almost feel worse for Jhio’s clutchmates, because THEY are the ones who he will polish his geekcred upon. He will try desperately to attract Fionabhairth’s attention, only to feel the icy chill of her creepy dead-lady soul IGNORING him… when he’s lucky, at least. Her attentions will be worse, certainly, especially when her cycle starts to gear up. Despite all the work in the world you put into reminding him that she may not be the dragon for him to pursue, he’ll likely trudge on heedless of any warnings—and when his heart breaks for the fifteenth time due to her banshee ire, you may need to take a deep breath and comfort him with the same sympathy that you did five turns ago when this all first started. Auralyth, despite his desperate need for you to know EVERYTHING about dolphins, may very well be the only clutchmate that is spared from the larger amounts of awk, since… he’ll feel much more comfortable around her happy-go-lucky spirit, and not feel like he has to PROVE himself so much. For all of that, there is something in Jhiovharameyth that calls him to all the wrong things, and while he’ll likely enjoy her presence, she’ll forever be that girl-next-door who he has tremendous fun with, but never is quite bumped out of that ‘tomboy’ not-really-even-a-girl category. Some built-in, deep-seated self-protection clause of his geekdom will make him forever uneasy around Dzyveth; and well done, given the bronze’s tendencies. Eabryllth will fascinate him in the ‘this-guy-is-really-cool-I-desperately-need-to-get-him-to-like-me!!!!’ fashion, but only time will tell how, er, THAT relationship may end up.
//1f u c4n r34d th1s u r34lly n33d t0 g37 l41d.
« Well, that isn’t actually correct… how can you say that just because someone is so COOL to know how to READ that.. that they are somehow NOT GETTIN’ ANY?! It makes no sense. »//
Actually, Jhiovharameyth, you have a point— but that’s rare, and likely, the only reason that you had it is because you stole it wholescale out of someone’s mind and used it like the shameless mind-whore you are. That said, that’s exactly how life with Jhio will be: every time he thinks he has something to interject, he’ll do exactly that, butting into conversations that have ABSOLUTELY nothing to do with him. He’s not some suave know-it-all, or even all that well-spoken, unless you have a particularly strong feeling or argument about a certain thing. He /will/ steal information from you — that’s why he wants you to know so much! — and he will butt into conversations shamelessly, but it doesn’t defeat the underlying point that he is socially awkward, if not socially inept, and that though he likes to talk, he’s unconsciously aware that he doesn’t quite fit in. Others… may also be aware of this. Due to this, sometimes, things he say may not be taken too seriously until someone actually experiences what he’s talking about.
Alan: There's a jungle cat in the bathroom!
[Phil walks into the bathroom, then hurries out]
Phil: Holy fuck, he's not kidding! There's a tiger in there!
- The Hangover
Jhio is a nerd. Have you figured that out yet? Well, you’ve not yet met what makes Jhio the nerd that he is. See, Jhio is a nerd because of one small, seemingly innocent detail of Pernese life.
Glows.
OMFG /glows/. Glows! He LOVES glows. Glows make the WORLD GO AROUND. What is Rukbat, after all, but one GIANT glow? Belior and Timor are like smaller, less-important glows. And all those stars up there? TINY distant glows! He’ll find a fascination with them starting from the very first night after Impression, and from that fascination will grow a near-obsession that will doubtless cause you many sleepless nights — and not just because he’ll cry (or get Cheeto-dust all over your mind) if he doesn’t have fresh glows arranged in his couch like some kind of mini Las Vegas. Look, he’s not scared of the dark, right? He just needs his nightlight. That’s right. He just … he just needs his nightlight. Nightlights. Plural. He’s a big guy. He needs a lot of light. You’re saved of having to read up on stargazing information, because he just doesn’t want to go out in that much dark to watch the stars. No, he’ll stick with his glowing fungi— LOTS of glowing fungi.
What you probably DIDN’T know, Iili — and what you probably never wanted to know — is that there is a small strain of glows that are fairly substantial. These glows last longer, and have a hardier structure than most other strains of glows. They are grown up by the northern wastes, in a small cothold near High Reaches to be precise. What does this cothold DO with these glows, you may ask?
They carve them.
Rather, they carve them into anything that’s commissioned. They’re very good! And though eventually they’ll lose their brilliant glow after a while, what do you have when that’s done? ACTION FIGURES. Action figures MADE OF EXHAUSTED GLOWS. It is to say that it should be doubtless you’ll find out about them in your trek to find the cheapest, brightest, prettiest most fascinating glows to satiate Jhiovharameyth’s interest. Just imagine bobble-head glows!
« That sounds SO COOL. OMFG. I have to have that, Iili! Would you get them
to make me one that looks like LANTI? Lanti’s so hot. OMFG. Iiiiiiliiiiiiii…. »
Two of his stranger quirks are self-evident from the above snippet of possible Jhio conversation. First is his undying love of acronyms. He’ll inform you that ‘Oh My GOLDS!’ and ‘Oh My Fardling Golds’ are entirely too long to say over and over and over again, and if OH-EM-EFF-GEE is quicker for him to say, well, he’s just going to do it. And… well. The second likely has to do with YOU, Iili-dear. You, after all, have the potential to be a lovely woman even if you’re not quite there YET. There was a reason that he picked you. He picked you because he knows you’re going to be hot someday! And he wasn’t going to be saddled with some fugly, stinky DUDE (there’s only enough space for one fugly, stinky dude in a relationship, obviously) when he could have YOU! From this… from this is born his love of the female body. The HUMAN female body. Oh em eff gee, he loves the ladies. He may be awkward as all get out with the girls that he likes, but human women give him that ability to express his @.@ love of femininity without actually being held accountable FOR that love. There’s no risk with him pining away over getting a blood-red glow carved in the likeness of one of those hot High Reaches weyrwomen, and he prefers it that way, thankyouverymuch.
You may have come to realize, by now, that Jhiovharameyth will never aspire to much. Oh, will he fly after golds? Certainly— up to and including the senior gold, dependent upon his own unique criteria. Iili, you may be gunning yourself to be the second female weyrleader that Pern’s seen, but don’t expect Jhio to actively back this. He’ll even argue with you - breaking his lazy code - to tell you exactly how crazy you are for wanting something like that to begin with! You won’t be able to get away from his private hysteria whenever anyone talks about promoting you guys, either— just like all the rest of the time, when he’s just incapable of blocking his thoughts out from yours, he’ll be RIGHT THERE, blubbering like a sumo wrestler bawling in his diaper about the thought of being IN CHARGE of ANYTHING. No! He’s not built for it! He can’t handle it! This isn’t to say that you guys will never receive a promotion — but that it will likely be dependent upon YOUR viability as leadership material, Iili, and not about the level of capability that your lifemate possesses.
Though Jhiovharameyth doesn’t hesitate about butting into conversations, busting out into a two-hour conversation about what makes glows so awesome, or talking about the perfect curve of Lida’s arse, there will always be that underlying hesitation. He’s a fun guy. He’s a happy guy. He’s not one to mope, or to throw pity-parties, or to otherwise be engaged in negative emotional behavior. But he will always have an underlying uncertainty about him — to you. His heart will race a thousand beats a minute when he finally works up the nerve to instigate a discussion with his crush, like a middleschooler, and you’ll be privy to that, Iili. It won’t be so noticeable when he’s talking to mixed groups, or to single dragons that he doesn’t necessarily care about — but those dragons whose opinion he actually DOES care about, like those few scattered crushes or the even more rare male dragon who he wishes he could be more like? He’ll DOUBLE his cheerfulness in his anxiety, and talk twice as much, and likely make twice as much of an idiot of himself. He’ll definitely be given to… a certain amount of hyperbole around those who he feels he needs to impress. And a certain… wordiness.
You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack… it grew by one. So there… there were two of us in the wolf pack… I was alone first in the pack, and then Doug joined in later. And six months ago, when Doug introduced me to you guys, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, running around the desert together, in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast!
— Alan, The Hangover
When this happens, invariably there will be times that he falls flat on his face, socially speaking. When this happens, he will turn to the one who has never let him down, for all of her spicy language and her unrelenting demand for him to be better: Iili. His love for Iili will only be trumped by his absolute and utterly dependent NEED for you to be there when he fails, when he puts himself out there and is totally clobbered for it. He needs you like the flowers need sunshine, like the dry plains need summer rain, like twinkies need a mouth to be shoved into. With you, he ALWAYS feels accepted, even when you think you don’t accept him. Likewise, he will have such a pure, utter, almost childish belief in you that sometimes it may be a little impossible to understand. He’s not going to be the one to pick fights on your behalf, but he damned sure isn’t going to let some mother-glow-lover pick on you, either!
Physicality
« So… uh… Wanna see my wings? »
Let's get this party started right, and understand one thing my friend: your new buddy is awkward. Awkward with a capital A.
Right down to the bare bones, let's examine him bit by — hey, Jhiovharameyth, this is not your insp, it's mine I say, mine! Wait… maybe it is…
AHEM.
Let's examine him bit by bit, as we would do with all experiments. In coloring, he is pretty uniform. Remember that lava cake? It's like that, only not. What do I mean? I mean, it's that uniform, chocolate color and when you stand and look at him, at first you might think, "Wow, he looks tasty!" Especially with the grainy bits looking like sweet little tasty delight! His coloring is not what makes him unique — it’s rather tame comparatively. No little ORANGE feet on this boy! (Although, he might in his secret-heart dreams wish for something so extravagant!)
See, this is the natural camouflage of your dorky dragon. In the right light, at just the right angle, when the moon and the stars align — you get the point, he'll look like creamy, melted chocolate with sprinklings of confectioner's sugar.
However. That is only in the right light. Every other time, he'll jiggle like flubber, have enough fat rolls to sink a ship, and will be about as graceful as a large boulder flying from the sky. The grainy goodness in his hide? Who the eff knows, but it could be freckles. Or skin spots. See, here your imagination will take wing, because for all the yummy and awesome things your mind can come up with, you can equally compare it to gross things. Zits. Freckles. Sunspots.
Those bit of white flakes across his wings? Well, 98% of the time, seeing them will remind you of dandruff clinging to the oily scalp of unwashed hair. Which brings us to the examination of the wings: those suckers are small. Tiny. Not like High Reaches' Hroskuth, because his wings look cute and dainty tiny — no, these are just… short. Like they were squashed in the shell and never grew out long.
When you touch them, they feel weird. A sticky, slimy feeling. Not like Rakshamanith's extra bit of oil that makes her hide slick and soft, no, your lifemate doesn't have quite that finesse. No, what this feels like is — wait, you remember it —
OILY, GREASY HAIR?!
Yes. His wings have that distinctive feel of oily, greasy human hair, even though he doesn't have any actual hair. It's that slick, slightly sticky, oily grease residue that gives them a rather, well, gross feeling. Unless you LIKE the feel of oily hair that is. And small his wings may be, but they are not free of the fat rolls. Where his wings connect to the body, and along the points of the wingbone that folds these greasy suckers against his body, well — you got it. FAT ROLLS. Big ones, small ones, doesn’t matter. They’re all there. There’s so much plush across his bones that you may never actually *feel* his bones.
This boy has enough fat rolls to last him — and you — a lifetime.
We'll get back to the fat rolls, this examination requires us to take our magnifying glass to the feet. His feet. They are large, in charge, with stubby talons that can easily get a little hooked into the flesh. So Iili, get yourself a large, rough board because you're going to have to file these hookers down. Especially in weyrlinghood, for some unknown and strange reason —
« Iili! IILI! » That smacka'lackin' in your mind means only one thing, SOMETHING has got Jhiovharameyth's attention. Cheesy poof, HO! « WHY must you torment me this way? Why don't Fionabhairth's talons do this?! Speaking of… »
— which will get Jhiovharameyth's attention. And that means he must dissect it, understand it (or try to), and then accept it. If he doesn't accept it, then good luck getting him EVER to sit still. Ever. So it's your job to help him accept it. And embrace it. Oh you will fail, but you'll win sometimes too. It’s allllllll about picking your battles.
Once out of babyhood, Jhiovharameyth's talons will settle, but you will always have to keep an eye on them. Why?, you may ask warily. Because the little extra curling? The little hook into the flesh? This boy gets IN-GROWN TALONS!
Not only that, but his talons… are not pretty. They're not ugly; actually, most of the time they are glossy chocolate with a hint of confectioner's sugar on them. Pretty, curvy, and blunt at the end. If Pern had chocolate, you'd want to eat them. However, SOMETIMES, in some strange way that you don't understand — and beware, Jhiovharameyth will want to re-examine this phenomenon every time it happens — one talon here and there will get thick, and turn a strange brown-green. Can we say gross? Well, Jhiovharameyth finds it fascinating.
You should be well-acquainted with the dragonhealers due to his predilection for thicktail, so they will at least be familiar with him by the time that you’ll need to take him to a dragonhealer for THIS problem. Very likely, he's just got some weird ass talons or perrrrrrhaps some nail fungus in there. It happens the most on his back talons, but you know. Front ones don't get a free pass, either!
So what if his feet sometimes have gunky gross talons?! He's just a cute boy! Well, his feet are large, over-sized, and ham-fist everything he can get his grubby paws on. Strangely enough, despite how large they are, they have an undeniable grace. Something in the sweep of the toes, the way he moves his wrist, the way he closes around an object to pick it up — it's graceful. In a strange, endearing way, it's graceful.
These suckers are large, but fat, with little tiny rolls that collect around the joint bends. It will be in babyhood when you first oil him that you will notice the most extraordinary thing about your boy. And it's in his feet. The same feet with the gunky toenails.
They. Are. Soft.
By soft, we don't mean like silky soft — we mean like the softest of soft blankets. The plushy toe-pads are soooooooo soft. You could poke your finger —
« HEY! » Munchies and crunchies go flying everywhere as the smackin' stops at the sudden attention and the poke to his foot. « IILI WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! » A pause where sound is enveloped in heavy breathing. « Do it again. Wait no. Yes. NO! AHAHAHA. Stooooop!»
— and feel the plushiness of such a foot. He's ticklish, so beware! And he will NOT let you near those feet after that first, forbidden discovery. Not while he's conscious, that is. It's his secret man-pride shame that he has feet as soft as a plush toy covered in velveteen.
So either, get out a big mallet to knock him over the head or wait until he's asleep to touch those feet.
//« What's next? My TAIL?! My tail! You wanna see my tail! Rr-r-ight?!
Of COURSE you do! We're a two-man— »
"MAN?!"
« — er person, PERSON, wolfpack! »
"Wolf? What?”
« Er, never mind. Get on with it! »//
So yes, Jhiovharameyth, let's handle the tail. It is short, stubby, and will be hell on him when he's flying. On the ground, it will be his greatest asset in that it's one less thing he has to worry about. It’s not long, it won’t sweep across an area and knock people off their feet. It’s just… chunky. And short. And a secret point of MAN-WEAKNESS, when his geekdom is overcome enough by testosterone for him to actually think about them in the first place.
« Why is my tail so short, Iili?! WHYYY?! How am I ‘sposed to get the ladies with THIS?! »
Fat rolls collect at the base of the tail, while the tail itself is thick and wide and kind of uniform. It will taper just a bit, but… other than that, it's short and stumpy and emerging out of fat roll city. When he moves it, it will flop around with a ka-thunk! ka-thunk! that will crush things in its path.
He will not wield it with anything like Gudrotgoth's precision aim, nor with quite Gudrotgoth's power, but instead with a clumsy way about him that will come with profuse apologies. Awkward, awkward apologies. And abject horror.
"So, how — OW! OW!" You might start to say until that sucker lands on your toe. "JHIOVHARAMEYTH!"
« OHMIGHOSHI'MSOSORRYOHMIGOSHDIDIHURTYOU?! » Anxious gravy will run amuck, great slices of your gramma’s turkey flung every which way, a great flurry of activity that stirs up all the food senses that swirls in his mind. Upon each hinges a great emotional contest: worry, fear, regret, and an unshakeable belief that you'll forgive him. « Iiiiiiiliiiiiiiiii! » Pleading comes with a dollop of whipped cream and the sudden taste of pumpkin pie filling your — his — your mouth.
How can you not resist that? Or how can you? Thing is, Iili, these little bits and pieces of him will help set the tone of your relationship with your new-found man… your dorky, fat man. How you respond to his physical idiosyncrasies, much less those of his dorky personality, will … well. Considering you are a daughter of Tye, we can only imagine how that will be, right?
So, Iili. We've examined everything in bits and pieces. You've got a good picture of your lifemate in all his categorized parts. Now it's time to put the whole shebang back together.
From the start, you'll be fighting with those fat rolls, as they really are the biggest part of your lifemate. The fat rolls. It could almost be the Ghostly Tale of Jhiovharameyth's Fat Rolls that Eat Everything. From top to bottom, he's big. He’s large. He's big and large! You might wonder if there are even bones in there, but they exist. You won't feel 'em very often. Forget about counting his ribs. Forget about counting anything really except the number of fat rolls you have to maintain.
Lose your favorite brush? Well, you'll look around and around and around and realize that you remembered Jhiovharameyth playing over in that area. You’ll remember that you'd dropped the brush on the floor of your couch or weyr in your haste to begin the day. The first time it happens, you won’t believe it. Until you see that brush handle sticking out from between the rolls collected under his armpit, next up to his wide chest. At first, you’ll try to deny it, but the longer you’re paired with your brown beast and the more items you’ve lost, you’ll be forced to deny it no longer.
Your hairbrush is stuck between his fat rolls. And that’s only the beginning.
That means one thing, and one thing only.
Your dragon is a proverbial bag of holding with those fat rolls. Anything and everything you can lose will find its way in between the bigger rolls of his body. This will happen when he's playing, sleeping, and eating. See, he likes to lay IN your stuff. And wallow around to get his greasy wings all over your stuff. So you've got this funk cloud of nacho smell —
WHAT?!
— Did we forget to mention that? Whups. He's got a pervasive odor of nacho smell to him. Of a fat dude who's not really limber enough or bathes enough to quiiiiiite wash between the rolls. So forget cuddling up to him — not to mention, that fat's not soft, it's SOLID — because there's the funk. He'll hate to be bathed. At times, when he's little and you can still do it, you'll have to drag him to the pools by his stubby tail. People may look at you in horror, but don't worry. His tail's quite solid and definitely right for the job of pulling him along.
When he's older, you'll have to find more inventive ways to get him out of the pens pigging his face out and into the pools where you can wash him. Like any young, boisterous nerdy boy, he's in, out and considers himself done.
It's on like Donkey Kong then, Iili. Because you will HAVE to badger, push, guilt, swat, use bodily force, as well as mental incentives ("NO MORE FOOD FOR YOU") to get that tubby buddy into that bath. Be ready! Are you ready?!
With all this bulk, you can imagine how long it's going to take to oil dear Jhiovharameyth! It will be a PAIN IN THE ASS, that's what. From teeny tot to big, beefy, roly-poly adult, this will take all friggin' day. Better hope he doesn't get any itchy spots! If he does, then YOUR fingers will have to dive deep between the fat to scratch at them. Oil them. Dig out the crap that he's collected between those wiggly, jiggly flubber rolls. Be prepared, Iili! Your lifemate will take up a LOT of your time in just physical maintenance alone.
You could… always… just TRY to get him to not eat. O:)
Let's just see how well that works out for you.
« Let's not! That sounds like hell! Move along! »
See, maybe you sit there and think, "Well, my lifemate is not so good on the ground, but I bet he'll be AWESOME in the air!"
It's a fair assumption because of all the other clumsy on the ground, yet perfection in the air dragons that seem to shell. Not so with Jhiovharameyth. Not so at all.
He jiggles, he wiggles, his fat rolls dance on the ground. In the air, the wind buffets those rolls, and makes them ripple in the wind. It’s grotesque, actually. His stubby tail can't rudder very well and those tiny wings — well, maybe Jhiovharameyth will be the first clue that dragons supposedly use telekinesis to fly.
Now, he won't be awful in the air, but good luck catching those greens. The smaller, nimbler, and limber of the greens will literally take a miracle to catch. However, like anything, it's possible. He's just clumsy in the air. Doesn't turn right. His massive bulk leads to some swirling when he meant to go straight, sharp angles when he meant to spiral. It's just… awkward.
Awkward is the best word for your lifemate. From the jiggly, flubber-like fat rolls, to the greasy wings, to the stubby tail — he's not ugly. He's not handsome. He's Awkward.
Do you fear the awkward?!
« But you love me. You know you love me. We're the wolfpack! I am no longer a lone hunter! I've got-»
Shut up, Jhiovharameyth.
And there you go. This edition of "Examine the Jhiovharameyth's Physical Attributes" is done.
STR: 12
DEX: 5
CON: 15
INT: 18
WIS: 2…
Jhiovharameyth! We're done!
« I thought it was important! How can you play something without knowing STATS?! »
Flights
Like as in most aspects of his life, Jhiovharameyth is incredibly awkward with girls. In fact, Iili is pretty much the only female he’ll talk to (as if you could get him to shut up!), draconic or human until those dreaded hormones start to take effect, and the thrill of the chase makes for one of the most excellent of quests.
Well, unfortunately that’s going to take some work. He will be painfully aware, once he reaches that peak of maturity that in this area he is an incredible n00b. In fact, it’s often he’ll pepper you with questions about your gender — even when you stalwartly profess that you do not know how the female draconic mind works. So for this, he’ll take a page from his clutchfather’s book — and Tyroth will become the ultimate guru or all things associated with getting girls. Where Tyroth is smooth talking and blunt to the point of charming, Jhio will never be any of these things. His attempts at sweet talking are anything BUT smooth, leveling whirling eyes at whatever female has caught his fancy and trying to sound cool.
Alan Garner: Can I ask you another question?
Lisa: Sure.
Alan Garner: You probably get this a lot. This isn't the real Caesar's Palace is it?
Lisa: What do you mean?
Alan Garner: Did, umm… did Caesar live here?
Lisa: No.
Alan Garner: I didn't think so.
When he realizes that he’s failing, it’s then he’ll retreat back into Iili for comfort, often heaving loud hrmph-ing sighs and returning once more to his glow-collection, happily dwelling within his fantasy love of human women. (Because, for real? Girls that can’t reject you are the best!)
Flights are another matter entirely. Here, of course, adds competition to that bit of hormonal lust that perpetuates his awkward tendencies. This, he will view as a skill he needs to hone, the perfect combination of moves which will land him the best loot of them all — the girl. There are unfortunately no cheat codes from which to learn this, so Jhio will conduct flights a bit like experiments, taking from them what he will, and gladly reporting back to you his observations (even whilst Iili might be dealing with some uncomfortable post-flight loss urges).
« Iiiiiiliiiii, did you SEE the way that Vrykth went after that green? He was RUTHLESS. And that thing he did with his WINGS? I could TOTALLY DO THAT. Next time remind me to do that, okay? OKAY? »
And when that NEXT TIME rolls around, he’ll do his best to remember all the tricks he’s picked up from previous endeavours, his flight attempts will be zealous and focused, that wordiness he uses with those he wishes to impress? Oh Faranth, he goes ALL OUT in these scenarios. Just when you think he couldn’t get any more awkward, there he is composing a sonnet to the green or gold as he tries out his new super secret flight pattern.
When he DOES win, which is bound to happen at some point, he will be giddy about it for DAYS. Expect to hear the tale of his victory over and over again, even as you remind him that you were THERE, each time embellished just a tad bit more to show off his obvious (to him) sexual potency. If one of these wins happens to be a gold, and he gets to play clutchfather? Faranth help the weyr. Faranth help us ALL. Because then there is PROOF of his victory, and those poor candidates who come to touch those eggs will likely be subjugated to a somewhat rigorous screening process (or mainly just your approval) before they can get anywhere near his precious offspring. And that gold? She gets to endure sand-sitting with Jhio, who will drive some of the less patient golds crazy with his happily only slightly skeezy remarks about their obvious love for one another. But as soon as those eggs hatch? He’s back to the rest of his secret little crushes, departing the gold with a bravos that will have some eyes rolling… mostly due to the fact that he will be so quick to run to you afterwards.
« Goodbye, fair Jivayath, for while I /know/ you would like to spend the rest of your days by the side of THIS great dragon, it just is not meant to be. My obvious skills and talents are needed elsewhere. It would be selfish not to share them. You understand.. »
Pause.
« IIIIIIILLLLIIIIII…»
Mindvoice
Jhiovharameyth’s mindvoice will never be something you can fully close your eyes to, even if you *could* close your mind’s eye. Or rather… it just wouldn’t matter because its visual elements would have to take up the back of the bus to other more prominent perceptions.
When in full form, it will ripple across your senses as scents and tastes, welling up through your palate and settling sumptuously in your nose as a veritable smorgasbord of FOOD. His tables will be full to brimming with cuisine, plates piled high with savory eats and delicious treats. No meagre salad-diet, your brown! He loves it fatty and lush and he loves to EAT!
Great juicy noshes or little kabibble snack packs, you’ll never find him far from inwardly consuming massive quantities of edibles beyond your wildest dreams… or nightmares. The tastes will carry over heavily to you whether you want them to or not; sometimes as an enforced treat, cramming your face with an overly eager cupcake commentary… other times will not be quite so treatful. Jhiovharameyth is not an epicurean of culinary delights; rather, he’s a hand-over-fist gorger, and for every two or three delectable meals of pie and roast, you’re inevitably going to find yourself subject to the occasional guilty binger’s selection of midnight shame-food as well. You might find your own meal of fingerroots and klah overlaid by greasy fried tubers and tubs of too-sweet ice cream.
Or Cheetos. You might even find yourself wanting to wipe your fingers off on your pants when you’ve had a long conversation with him, to be rid of the day-glow neon orange powder and greasy residue. (Or maybe… maybe you’ll even, guiltily, want to lick your fingers sometimes. Because hey… Cheetos-dust.) Not like you, Iili, would know exactly what the powdery, cheesy, crunchy, crispety snack-a-lacka munchy would be called, it being Pern and all. But you’ll know it by smell. Intimately. And taste. And that interminable ambient munching that sounds like he’s RIGHT THERE behind you, Chewing In Your Ear.
And he’ll still be chewing even late, late in the night. In the dark. Or when you’re trying to concentrate. He might chew even louder and more riveted if Faranth-forbid you ever try going on dates with BOYS. You are his favorite topic, after all!
It will be like when you’re in a movie theater, trying to hear the dialogue, and two rows behind you someone is loudly consuming buttery popcorn. And sustaining a running commentary through their full mouth while they’re at it.
Always the commentary, will it be with Jhiovharameyth; indeed, and often peppered with rushed, exaggerated stories.
//« I can’t believe we have to fly the drills a second time! » The sense of prissily dabbing sauce from a plump face before snarfing off a HUGE bite from a chicken leg. « How come we have to fly them over a second time? They should let us eat first. Did I tell you I saw Tyroth eating the Lord Holder’s prize runner? It was so gross! »
« Right. I’m sure. Just like you saw the Weyrwoman’s swimsuit fall off yesterday. »
« Okay, so maybe I didn’t see her top ACTUALLY fall off yesterday. » Nervously, he begins to cram his face faster, dunking each bite in rich gravy that he licks furiously from each finger,
striving desperately to recover. « …But I DID see Sienna’s! »//
These little slips will be frequent.
His voice itself will be a bit squeaky; not like a choir-boy alto - more like a teen boy heading for tenor, if one could equate the words ‘heading for’ with a passage as smooth as falling ass over kettle down a hill. It will creak and squeak and squeal and squawk. It will hammer out so EARNESTLY, too - an earnestness that will, naturally, only grow increasingly more intense and insistent the further he embellishes his stories.
The static-crackle will get more under control as he gets older. Hopefully. But when he’s young, you better get used to his voice creaking around each word. Because it’ll be there especially heavily (on an already heavy boy!) while he’s growing, until you would think someone was torturing a cat with a misused clarinet somewhere behind his mindscape.
When he’s happy and content, when he’s excited or enthusiastic, you’ll roll through chewy gooey, sproinging-boinging marshmallow Stay Puft goodness, trundling along the background in preoccupied, glee. He can get pretty sweet, and while this is not exclusive to his personality, it’s directly reflective in his mindvoice - he’ll construct a whole candy-coated playground through which he can fat-kid frolic like a plumpling in a candy shop. Chocolate will melt across your tongue, he’ll fondue himself in devil’s food showers and splat facefirst in whole walls - FORTRESSES - of confectionery goodies and chew himself out the other side. And you, Iili, /you/ will be invited to come romp with him.
You might get odd dreams that find you waking to chewing on your pillow. Or peculiar cravings for strange food pairings that could have people wondering if you’re not PREGNANT.
And even on top of this, he’ll still manage to be full of unexpected (and sometimes unpleasant) ways of expressing himself. When he’s surprised, he might SPRAY cracker crumbs across someone else’s mindscape. He might even choke for a moment and need to take a few long gulps of ginger ale for indigestion! Anxiety, for Jhio, could very well feel like heart burn. But most surprising of all, and NOT in a good way… will be his, well… his awful, awful LAUGH.
« Pfffffff-HURRR!-hur-hurhurhur-HAW-hee-HEE-HAW!! »
You’ll swear to Faranth that it changes every time, and every time will be a new variety of pure awkward geeky torture.
Just because he’s not the most physically exerting dragon doesn’t mean he abstains from childish rivalry, either, with his fellow clutchmates. Or other dragons. When pushed to a certain, aggressive mood, it will feel like his plates heap up higher and higher with nice splattery multicolored food that form an arsenal.
That’s right. Jhio can wage a one-man (dragon) FOODFIGHT, slinging ‘taters and mash and million shades of frosting and fruit glaze across the void of mindvoices. Who hasn’t wanted to serve up a good pie to the face from time to time? In this way, your brown can be audacious!
But above all? He loves you, in all the ways a fat little boy at heart can love. He’s obnoxious and he wheedles and he wants your attention and he wants you to notice him. But every once in a while, if he realizes he’s really gotten on your nerves, really pushed you over the edge, even if he doesn’t understand it, he’ll try. Fumblingly, awkwardly, earnestly, confused, he’ll belly-creep up to you with sad little mindgifts, clumsy offerings of half-eaten chocolates.
Because with Jhiovharameyth, it’s the thought that counts.
Oh Iili, Iili, Iili! We do hope you’ve enjoyed reading over this Tome of Jhiovharameyth, finding him as hilarious and interesting as we did while writing him! However, this IS an inspiration, and thus—a document to inspire, not a how-to manual! Play him as you will, girlfriend, and we wish you many, many happy years of awkward geeky companionship!
« Well… actually.. aren’t they called turns? »
SHUT UP JHIO.
Credits:
Egg desc: K'ane
Dragonet desc: Taram, Lanti tweak
Messages: Alys, Taram
Name: Lida, N’ayl, Taram
Puppetted by: Taram
Inspiration: Alys, Lida, N’ayl, Taram
Iili's Brown Jhiovharameyth
Harper's Tale: 61st PC Clutch
Ista Weyr
Lanti's gold Dedanseth and T'ab's bronze Tyroth
November 20th, 2011
Clutchmates:
Ada (Adalaya) and green Fionabhairth
Nerai (Arienne) and green Auralyth
Reana (Breannah) and blue Eabryllth
Sk'ar (Skylar) and bronze Dzyveth
NPCs:
Candy and green Cornth
Bunn (Bunnia) and green Iculath
Meiji (Meisjin) and green Leitanith
Mary and green Sanderth
E'gan (Eagon) and green Slimerth
S'rah (Sarrah) and green Ssonth
R'ler (Rydler) and blue Derbith
J'ack (Jovack) and blue Sallyth
M'rry (Murray) and blue Shelleyth
J'ber (Jiber) and blue Wokth
