Vashaetria… VASHAE now! We have grown quite fond of you… and so has Jovianth! You didn’t think you were going to get away, did you? Because we decided to keep you and love you and feed you orange Tic-Tacs and call you George. Or, uh, Vashae. Sure, that. Without further ado, here is your Jovianth! — SearchCo

Clutching Pose

Now that Vergora's had a chance to express the success of her knot grubbing stunt, she turns back to Kohleth, still wearing a manic sort of smile. That soon fades, however, switching in an instant to an ashen-faced alarm. Her voice is quiet, but the words can probably still be made out as far as the nearest benches of the galleries, as she moves to her lifemate to lay her hands on the gold's chest. "Noooo… no, no, no, no, hun. You're… you're fine. No, no, no, no…" It trails off to quiet whispers as her hands start to rub Kohleth's chest, which has started to take on an oddly grey tint again. However, the old dragon is not quite done yet. Not quite.

Spirit of Exploration Egg

This one appears a little rickety, more blocky than ovoid, but upon closer inspection, it's built to go the distance. Pale, almost entirely devoid of color, it tends to change its shades depending on the angle of the light and shadow, going from hazy cloud white to deep cream, with the texture of rough linen to hold it together. Near the bottom, where the egg first touched sand, a slightly darker ring surrounds the base. Perhaps some of the desert grit got embedded in the shell, or maybe that lack of color simply soaked up the colors of Igen.

Hatching Message

Wibble. Wobble. Wibble-wibble. The Spirit of Exploration lives within this rickety little egg; as its engine charges from the occupant within, the slow vibration becomes almost a violent rattle, the vehicle that forms the striations of cracks that form along the base first. Lucky Lindy this blocky egg is not, for the time has come. Spiraling through time and space, the creature within explodes outward, sending shell fragments dancing across the sands. A first glance of deep, brilliant, rich blue. A POP, and finally the arrival of Man Out of Time Blue Dragonet. Wings flare. Goo is flung. The madman in the box is heeeeeere.

Man Out Of Time Blue Dragonet

Something ancient lies embodied within the long, lithe lines of this cheeky chap, old and new commingled over his timeless hide. Borrowed from the star-struck sky is the bluest blue that has ever been or will ever be: weathered midnight worn without artifice over all his planes and angles, holding dominion over every dimension of his form. Indelible azure lightens the farthest-flung reaches of his physique, highlighting headknobs and polishing sails and spars with sunlit hue. Argent flashes of hidden circles beneath the canopy of his wings match the star-stippling along the enduring length of his tail. Tip to tail he remains a conundrum, a paradox of silver flash and night-sky blue, secrets of the cosmos veiled in timeworn hide and youthful wonder.

Public Impression Pose

Looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love in — what? No? That’s not in this episode? Man Out of Time Blue Dragonet gives himself a debonair shake and flaps his wings as he turns away from that little blond girl with the button nose. Hey baby, have some goo. The little blue is distracted no more for what he seeks is up ahead, driven by a need that becomes almost painful. Finally, he’s found his one. His companion, dark haired, dark-eyed, clothed in white. Stumbling only a little — cut him some slack, he is in the right time and space after all — the Man Out of Time Blue Dragonet has found his Vashaetria. His companion, his assistant … and maybe he just loves her a little bit. Croooooooooon.

Private Impression Message

Shadowed fog rolls in, obscuring the hatching sands. Gone are your surroundings, replaced by an eerie, wordless harmony that lifts through the murk, spidering outward through your mind to make connections you never thought possible. Time and space hold meaning here, a chorus of whispers tickle the senses. « Vashaetria. » It's wrong, all wrong. The voice-that-isn't-a-voice shakes free the chains that bound you to your old life. « Vashae. » The harmony of disembodied voices add depth of mystery to this presence that has grabbed your thoughts, your very essence. Secrets are kept and a breath is held — you realize it's yours — before: « Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It’s not the time that matters, it’s the person. It's time for us to live, Vashae. There is SO MUCH for us to see, SO MUCH to do … and time starts NOW. So let’s get our bloody act together, get some food, and we'll be on our way. » The clipped Fortian tones are at odds with expectation, coming from the eerie drift of fog. « Oh. Jovianth. » Beat. « Toodle-oo now Vashae. Time's a-wasting. » Intense hunger claws from the thick soft grey of fog, the voices harmonizing in need.

Egg Inspiration

Charles "Lucky Lindy" Lindbergh's trans-Atlantic flight in the Spirit of St. Louis on May 20 and 21, 1927. This would mark a definitive beginning to the advancement of aviation that later lead to commercial aviation in the 30's, the groundwork for the travel that now seems so commonplace. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spirit_of_St._Louis

Theme Inspiration

Theme gave us a run for our money, no joke, when it was announced to be Ancient Civilizations. Where do you go to compare the vast enormity of the Time Lords to some measly ancient human civilization? We scoured all of Terra and then it suddenly CLICKED. The Mayans were known as their own kind of time lords, as they studied temporal passing and even worshiped time. They oustripped the technology of their civilization when it came to measuring time; scientists in the nineteenth century were baffled to find that the Mayans, who lived circa 200-900 AD, had measured the length of a year to be approximately 365.2420 days… without instrumentation. They are generally known to be mysteriously well-equipped at mathematics, astronomy, and telling time.

Known often for the great flub of the foretold apocalypse, it should be noted that the Mayans did not explicitly call for an apocalypse on December 21st, 2012: they did, however, uncannily predict an incredible event on that day called the Sacred Tree, which seemed to fit the model of a time-traveler well:

The Mayans called the crossing point of the Galactic Equator and the ecliptic (the sun's path) the
Sacred Tree. When a planet, the sun, or the moon enters the 'dark cleft' of the Milky Way in
Sagittarius (the exact center of the Milky Way, the Galactic Equator), they believed that an entrance was possible for travelers to be taken to the Heart of Sky.



Much of the Mayan culture is understood to originate from the mysterious Olmec, the society that predated the locality which the Mayans inhabited. Not much is known about the Olmec; they are, in fact, the inspiration for the fog of your lifemate’s mindvoice: a mysterious edge that just cannot be explained away, but lies at the very fundament of his entire being.

http://earlycivilizations.blogspot.com/2007/07/mayan-time-lords.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization

Description Inspiration

For your Jovianth’s description, we pulled from the most obvious source: the TARDIS itself, with its weathered dark-bright blue that is immediately identifiable no matter where you are. The highlights on his headknobs and wings are a nod to Maya blue, a pigment used by the ancient Mayans that strangely endures even after many hundreds of years have passed. The silver’s source is twofold: both from the stars themselves and, hidden under his wings, a nod to CIrcular Gallifreyan, the language of the Time Lords themselves.

jov1.jpgjov2.png

jov3.jpg


http://news.discovery.com/history/art-history/maya-blue-paint-deciphered-130403.htm

http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Gallifreyan_(language)

Name Inspiration

Jovianth came about from eyeballing the word “Whovian”, dissecting it, playing around with it, and tossing in that all-important Jo from “John Smith”. Though there were MANY different alternatives, when it came down to it we fell in love with how it looked, and how it sounded when pronounced with a soft ‘j’ which is close to a ‘zh’ in sound. Afterwards we kind of eyeballed it and realized it looks an awfully lot like ‘jovial’, which ties in to your Whovian blue so very well!

Pronunciations among the insp team range from jo-VI-anth to ZHO-vianth, with many flavor variations in between.

Mindvoice

The eerie fog, the dark mist, the obscurity and the unknown: those aren’t what make Jovianth unsettling, from time to time. His entirely incongruous mindscape is made the more disquieting by the ambient sounds that always seem to pervade the mindlink. At first touch he may scare the fardles out of the unassuming, come to think…

There is always the grey, the mist, the fog: it roils and overtakes familiarity, rending that which was comfortable, that which was homely into the strange and the worrisome. A cemetery at moonlight, headstones obscured by the ground-level clouds: there is very little more eerie… until the whisper of voiced chording twines through the current of grey billows. No words within that ethereal sound, the harmony of disembodied voices smooth and low in alto and baritone. One may fancy the haunting sigh of a cello’s last breath among the rest, but fancy is all it would be. There is only the fog, and the grey, and the voices… and Jovianth.



Indeed, Jovianth’s mindscape will be something to… become used to.

jov4.jpgjov5.jpg


The setting is complete, now: still objects looming out of that eternal grey. He won’t be for colors, and his emotions will rather transcend inner visualizations; it is almost as if he has something he would keep secret, some inner depth that he just cannot bear for the world to see. Therefore the fog; therefore the grey.

Therefore the voices.

That damned unnerving singing, that haunting vocalization, will be the best indication of his mood, of his emotive state. When happy or content they will seem less like the lament of the broken dead; when joyous they rise in soul-lifting arias. When angry, a martial chant of staccato notes and even more unnerving harmonies — six-and-seven parts done all in minor chords, jarring to the ear and heart. But when he is sad they are the worst, for they sing in dirge and sorrow; they sing of life’s end and the eternal cycle of life, of loss and grief. Needless to say, the emotion of his voiceless presence will take quite some getting used to, in the early days.

The mist and unvoice are but the stage and the setting, however, for what you REALLY must get used to: that is to say, his voice. His is a fine tenor, accented strongly by the clipped vowels of Fort — however he collected that accent is anyone’s guess, though there will be some muttering about the lad from Fort that spent so much time during egg-touchings admiring the shell he hatched from. His voice, that lovely tenor — well, at least it is lovely and not abrasive, for you will need to become quite accustomed to it.

You see, Jovianth… he likes to talk.

« Why, Vashae, would we want to follow the weyrlingmaster’s EVERY demand? It will only lead to them EXPECTING every bloody little detail to be followed to the letter, and we wouldn’t want to deal with the ramifications of that, I’m sure. In a sense it is our civic duty, our civic duty I say, to resist following every suggestion. It shows fine character! It shows that we have leadership potential, see, and that we quite well think on our own, and that is an admirable trait… and certainly even Saytomarth will find no flaw with that. On the other hand, Saytomarth finds flaws in every which thing I try to do, so perhaps that is a bad, bad example. Liareth, now, she’ll find that lovely and fine! We will impress the lovely Liareth, and she will maybe share with me that one scent, so lovely, what was it that you said it was? Jasmine? Oh, it smelled so good, so you see, Vashae, we absolutely MUST not show up for drills today. »
{a pause to… absorb this. a deliberate pause.}
» Are you done? «
« Er, yes, I think. That is to say, you didn’t WANT me to further extrapo— - »
» Oh no, no, that won’t be necessary, Jov. «



He will prattle on about ANY old thing. He will talk to you, he will talk to other dragons, he will talk firstly and foremost to himself. He won’t, however, talk to other people, not being as free with himself as other dragons are; that part of him is for you, Vashae, and you alone. Besides, he’s a prideful little snot about certain things, and this particular topic will ping heavily at his arrogance.

« Whyever would I want to speak with some dreadfully dull little creature? If they were sensible enough they would have a dragon of their very own, and if they are sensible enough to have a dragon of their own, then they can talk to them and require not my wisdom! »



It’s okay, we won’t tell him when you become enough tired of it to wish he WOULD share his bounty of verbosity with others!

Physicalities

Vashae. Vashae. Vashae. Have you seen the blue of the night sky? Perhaps you’ve seen the deep blue of the ocean from Ista of four hundred turns past. Well, they’ve got nothing on the blue of your Jovianth. He’s as blue as blue can get while still being blue. In fact, sometimes you’ll stand, dazzled by the intensity of pigment that your lifemate’s hide sports. Now, before you start thinking that he’s one solid color, oh Vashae, he is not. He is so much more than a plain, one-dimensional blue dragon… even if that dragon had the bluest of blue hides possible! Once you get over just how rich and how deep the primary color of his hide is, you’ll notice all the other little colors. The galaxies that coalesce in speckles of starlight along the length of his tail. The whorls of circles that traipse beneath his silky wingsails; a lot of nuance exists in his color alone. Once you finally get beyond color, the purity of form, the arrogance of carriage, nuances exist that ground your lifemate to the physical world, and give him a charisma that even Liareth will be hard-pressed to top.

jov6.jpg


This makes Jovianth a very handsome dragon, from color to form to attitude: you see, your blue has everything in spades. Unfortunately, interestingly, life has handed you a pandora’s box of contradiction. Yes, he’s an attractive dragon, but these features don’t come without a cost. As a baby, his length will get him in trouble, as the bulk of his size comes from nose to tail-tip rather than bulk.

“He is too skinny for words. You give him a hug, you get a papercut.”

— Donna Noble



(Donna sits on the edge of the roof, looking towards St Paul's Cathedral and the City beyond. The Doctor takes off his jacket and puts it around her shoulders.)
DONNA: God, you're skinny. This wouldn't fit a rat.

« A man cannot be debonair if he is large, Vashae. »



Never lament his size, or the fact that by heritage, he will never reach the sizes of the Oldtimer blues or the blues of mixed lineage. Jovianth is not at all worried about just how much space he takes up in the physical world. In fact, he’s uncannily aware of where each part of his body is in relation to the other. While Saytomarth is a bull in a china cabinet, Jovianth has a finesse, a delicacy that’s belied by his bigger size (in comparison to his sister, at least!)… well, sometimes.

”Poor We’bey… He’s destroyed his cot again…” You might comment, walking by your fellow clutchmate’s wallow.
« No, Vashae, that’s rubbish. He did not stomp on that cot as a beastly being enraged beyond the point of all reason, tear it to the tiniest of minuscule bits, and then drag those unfortunate remains out into the sun only to crush it beneath the weight of his continued and impassioned burning //hatred
for the thing. » The haunting whisper of voices precedes the fog rolling in, underscoring the clipped Fortian tones that hiss through your thoughts. « That was all from that creature. »
“Jovianth! It’s not nice — to — call … her… that.”
« Truth, my dear Vashae, it is still the Truth.»//



You better count your lucky stars that your lifemate is much better grounded than Saytomarth! Neither is he given to shadows like Vazirynath: who in their right mind would prefer the darkness and the gloom when the warmth and the sunlight is there to most fully enjoy? How it glitters so on his pretty blue hide! He’ll have just a touch of arrogance…

jov7.png


Well… Wait. Okay, let’s be real. He’s a vain little bastard. He loves to look good, he wants to be well oiled, and all that blue hide comes with a cost of its own: the cost of being dry. Not paper-dry, like some dragons, but strangely weathered, as if somehow he is so very much older than he would seem to be, the baby he chooses to appear. Er, that is. The baby he is. His hide, though, is leathern and toughened, and will need careful care in order to keep it in tip-top shape.

« Vaaaaaaaashaaaaaae. » The only time the voice-ridden fog that rolls through your mind containing the hint of pitiful whine. « My skin. It itches and doesn’t feel right. »



Much like his very innate ability to discern where all points of his body are in space and time, so is he so very much aware of when he needs tending. That means you’ll be on your toes a lot. Not just oiling, but working that growing, weathered hide into flexibility. Like a baseball glove, you’ll need to constantly flex and exercise to get the mobility that he’ll need for Threadfall. Granted, most of this work will come when he’s a little dragonet. That first time he wakes up all stiff with his wings standing at odd angles might be funny to you, but remember that your vain little Jovianth will not be amused. This is when you’ll need to seek out your weyrlingmasters to figure out what the heck is going on here. Eventually the truth will surface: his hide is just something that is extremely high maintenance.

It’s not even that his hide will crack or split; oh no, it is merely stretched tight as a skin freshly strained over a tanner’s board; it lacks in flexibility. And he must be flexible! To keep vain Jovianth happy, that is… and trust us when we say this, it isn’t really worth listening to his wordy whines when he’s unhappy. He wants to make sure he looks his best. Get ready to listen to many utterances of «Vanity is sanity, my dear!»… especially if Liareth is around; he will have the best relationship with her growing up, and possibly as an adult, though Vazirynath will befuddle him greatly when her maturity is met and she comes out of her shadows as a lovely thing.

Now. Vashae. The thing about time-travelers is that they live in a world of paradoxes. Remember how Jovianth will have this uncanny ability to discern his own presence within his physical world? Yes, yes, that is still true, however, the problem is that sometimes — you’ll come to find that this is most often during the highest point of the daylight hours; noon, to be specific — his sense of the physical world is skewed.

WHAM!

BAM!

CRASH!

“Jovianth! What! ARE YOU DOING?!” Rushing in, you find Jovianth half in, half out of the oil pot, biting the pot’s rim.

Harried fog hides the discordant sound of wailing voices. « I’m going for the meat bucket! It was RIGHT HERE JUST A MOMENT AGO! » Bewilderment will come to his voice as disorientation becomes clear.

“Oh…”



You’ll often be flummoxed, confounded, and left wondering at how your smooth, nimble, graceful blue can sometimes feel like a cosmic 9-turn-old. It’s not even that this will happen all the time either, but it does seem to come just when you need it least. Whether it’s in ground drills or during his first ground hunt, or when you’re learning to ride him for the first time.

Vashae — invest in extra straps and get good at anticipating the unexpected, because it will never be the same scenario twice.

At least… while he’s on the ground. In the air, he won’t display that strange out-of-place, out-of-time, which Pern am I in again? dysfunction … save for jumping in and out of :: between ::. Granted, that first time actually flying, the weyrlingmasters just MIGHT not let you go alone just because of his unpredictability. It will take a lot of training and a lot of convincing to let that first flight happen, but oh Vashae, when it does, all bets are off!

The funny thing is, for a spaceship, she doesn't really do that much flying. We'd better give her a couple of hours.

— 10th Doctor



Not only fast and quick, Jovianth is pure wonder to watch in the sky. All that innate knowledge of when and where he is? Makes him incredibly valuable during the dogfight of Threadfall. The words ‘situational awareness’ are brought to an ENTIRELY different level with Jovianth. You are more likely to get Threadscored than Jovianth. Now, it takes a lot of energy to keep this up, so flying will also easily tire him out. Once he’s bigger and the weyrlingmasters are not afraid he’ll accidentally kill you, he will love to fly. Desire to seek out new places will drive you both in your off-times.

As you spiral outward to discover all of the secret places of Pern, this is where you’ll come to discover some of the secrets of your lifemate. Yes, he’s brash, arrogant, vain; but there’s more to your Jovianth than meets the eye. In the starlight, where cool moonlight filters through the thin membranes of his wing, you’ll find yourself unable to stop staring at the circles that gather beneath his wings. The circles within circles, connecting to other circles; silver’d designs are almost like a secret language that you can only really see by soft moonlight, because for whatever reason — trick of his genetics — the skin there is thinner, yet shimmers in the soft light of the moons.

Distantly, waves crash against a foreign beach, the white-sands glinting like mother-of-pearl in the light of both Belior and Timor’s moonlight. Lying on the beach, Jovianth sits beside you, chattering to you about something or other. Wind caresses your cheeks, and the night’s stillness brings a slow tranquility.

“Jovianth?”

« — and see that’s when Liareth did this — what? » Jovianth’s mindtouch becomes less distracted by his own rambling chatter to more pointed interest, for something in your tone sparks his curiosity.

“Open your wing.”

As the wing fans over you, like an umbrella, the designs seem to almost light up in the pale moonlight, and the night is lost to what the circles might mean.



You’ll spend many a night, Vashae, once you’re full-on riders, like this. When Thread is falling, it might be on your ledge, while you dream of exotic places, but those circles will draw you like no other. The warmth of his hide, the gentle flesh on the undersides of his feet that seem immune to the weathering of his skin, or the gentle spray of glittering starlight on his tail — none of these will hold quite like those designs beneath his wing. Gathered like a secret language woven of silver into the very wings of your Jovianth.

The ooooooonly other thing you’d better be prepared for is just how itchy that sprinkle of starlight is on his tail. He’ll claim it burns, it itches so much. No amount of oiling will alleviate it when the itching comes, and it’ll come in waves. Best get used to asking to borrow that medicated salve from Kyara. More frequently as a baby, until as an adult it’ll likely only get really itchy just after flying.

Your Jovianth, Vashae, is a handful in so many ways. While you can count your blessings that your blue is not the terror of Saytomarth, nor does he keep to the shadows like Vazirynath, and gives Liareth a run for her money in terms of beauty, you’ll find that all of that beauty and litheness will come with a price. For he comes with a wallop of quirks and idiosyncrasies that will leave you scratching your head for turns to come.

Perhaps, when it’s time for that final descent into ::Between:: at the end of your long life, you’ll come to realize that Jovianth might just truly be the cosmic time-traveler he so resembles. Only you will ever know, Vashae. You and he will burn bright in this world, leaving your mark indelibly before you go.

Personality

Oh Vashaetria… Vashae, now. You’ll come to think that maybe Jovianth shortened your call-name just so that he can utter it more often in his lifetime — in your shared lifetime. From the very beginning you will realize one thing: your new lifemate can talk, and TALK, and TALK… and talk some more, with a side of conversation, and maybe a snippet of giggling (and boy can he giggle). He rather enjoys talking with you, Vashae, and prefers your company to the vast unwashed horde of other dragons on Pern; all except his clutchmates, rather, who hold a very special place in his heart, in this time and space in which he finds. Nonetheless, he will likely talk to ANY who lend him an ear to jaw into.

As much as he loves speaking with you, and about you, and to you, he is dreadfully jealous of those fellows you would spend your time with. No shady characters for you now, Vashae; the merest glance towards the Bazaar will have Jovianth in a tizzy. No hanging around dangerous characters; no deceitful traders or sly-eyed bartenders… and even some of your clutchmates will fall too rough for his liking. He will freely admit that you are grown, and older than he, and possessed with impeccable taste — just look at your preference in lifemates, after all! — but he will stand adamant about this, about his protectiveness of you. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, after all, it is just who he is.

Amy Pond, there's something you better understand about me, 'cause it's important and
one day your life may depend on it. I am definitely a madman with a box.

— 11th Doctor



For all of his distrust for people, he will have nothing but curiosity for the world around him. From the outset, he’ll be a curious dragonet, interested in every single thing he comes across. Likely, you’ll be late more than once for weyrling classes, having stopped to examine a particularly unusual rock or interesting smell. He won’t see a problem with this, of course. He already DID that drill. Why would he need to practice? He already did it once without problems. Besides, that rock might not be there later! Get used to being woken up, too, with « Vashae! Vashae! Come see this! » Any criticism from the weyrlingmasters rolls off of his back like a duck. Any admonition from YOU, however, is felt as keenly as a knife and leaves him contrite and begging forgiveness.

Oh, and telling him no might be like talking to a wall at times. If you’d just let him show you this. Five more minutes. He’ll have an excuse for everything he doe— er, reason. Reason, that’s it, yes.

« But really Vashae, they most certainly do not require our presence at drills this morning. We were only there yesterday, after all, and we stayed until it was right dusk, it was! Dreadfully boring. They won’t miss us one slightest bit. »
» Jov, it’s our turn to head up drills. «
« Brilliant, my dear, brilliant! Given our recent promotion, we shall give them all the most glorious of restdays and browse the boy’s shops for a perfect sunhat for you! Can’t have that complection sunburnt, after all, and this is Igen. Really my dear, it’s almost as if you care not for yourself, but only me! While the attention is doubtlessly and endlessly enjoyed and appreciated by myself, you really mus— »
» No, Jov, we’re going to drills. I mean it. «
Suddenly meek, the fog, the voices restrained to a nursery rhyme: « Oh, if you insist. »



For some unknowable reason, he’ll always have an affinity for physical objects. Especially… clothing. Don’t be surprised if you find him curled up with one of your jackets, or some kind of hair piece. Maybe, like some kind of enormous teacup yorkie, he’ll even try to wear them around. Hopefully, We’bey will be willing to help you mend these items when, with surprise at the size of his limbs making him not able to dress up like you do, his talons punch through something. Oops.

He’ll end up having a favorite — a piece that somehow resonates with him, somehow reminding him of you, of how much you mean to him, and he will fixate on it until you give it over for him to protect and guard… just as he protects and guards you, Vashae.

Come adolescence, his cavalier attitude towards outer-life may take a definite turn towards arrogance, and he’ll be quite the little hipster blue, having done it BEFORE it was cool. As soon as you’re able to take wing, watch out because he wants to see EVERYTHING with you, hardly giving either of you time to rest and recuperate. Should he become injured and have the skies taken from him, however briefly, he’s a big whiny baby all over again. He’ll want reassurance from you that he’s still as wonderful and brilliant as he was before he was hurt.

All around, he LOVES being the center of attention, and this likely won’t change much as the years give him wisdom. Wisdom doesn’t necessarily mean maturity, of course. He’ll always be like a child, and he will always, always NEED you, his rock, his lifemate, and separation is almost a physical pain for him. If you are away from him, he’ll need to touch base quite a lot, just to reassure himself that you’re still with him. For all his self-assurance, there’s a streak of insecurity a mile wide when it comes to you, because you’re the only being in the whole of Pern who he can truly relax around and show his heart to.

« My dearest Vashae, you look most charming this evening. That necklace, is it new? »
» Oh Jovianth, I do love you. You don’t have to flatter me to get me to say it. «
« I merely appreciate you in all of your brilliant facets, my love, and I do wish you to know it. »



Despite his insecurity around you, there’s every chance that he’s not going to be the most popular dragon ever to all the other dragons he spends his time around. Though he’ll seek out their love and validation like a puppy if he finds them to be ‘worthy’ as friends (that being the sticking point), should he see a fellow as lesser-than, they’ll definitely know. He’ll make slighting comments towards them, treating them as mere extras in the movie that is Jovianth’s life.

Saytomarth, no joke, will scare the ever-living shit out of him. He won’t ADMIT that (except maybe to you, when he’s feeling very low by one of her scathing male-hatred comments), but she does. Liareth he’ll understand more than the rest, thanks to her natural tendency to talk; and as for Vaziyrnath, well, for the first part of life she will most certainly fall into the ‘lesser-than’ category until she blossoms into maturity.

The thing is, Adam, time travel is like visiting Paris. You can't just read the guide book.
You've got to throw yourself in, eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and
end up kissing complete strangers - or is that just me? Stop asking questions. Go and do it!

— 9th Doctor



Life is something that is meant to be lived, not treasured and put up on a shelf to admire as you wither and die. That is Jovianth’s firm belief, and believe he will in the truth of those words until the end of his own time. For all of that, he has this terrible knack for being in the wrong time, or the wrong spot, or missing some variable in the equation of serendipity. You see, it is made all the worse for the fact that Jovianth rather does know where he is and when he is and where and when he should be, but he’ll dismay at properly managing ALL the facts, aligning all the stars, getting to where he needs to be when he needs to be there.

Needless to say, this will irk the weyrlingmasters - and future wingleaders - as much as his incessant desire to comprehend the universe around him. It will irk him more, though, and he will flail through and hurry and make the biggest dumb spectacle over himself when he does feel the panic of being ‘out of time’, as it were. In this he is rather like the Doctor, who often had trouble landing in the correct time or the correct place, in both Classic and Nu Who’s; he always knows where and when he is, and aware that he has gotten it WRONG. This will be something for Vashae and her leaders to work on, since it could be very dangerous during Threadfall, or in regards to the most dangerous of all Pern things: that space which lies between places.

For all of his flaws and all of his arrogance and all of his demanding petulance and judgmental ways and incredible ability of expression volumes of words, Jovianth remains one thing: yours, Vashae. He is lost without you, with no reference to time or space. He is forever tardy, if you’ll forgive the terrible pun; he is well and truly adrift. You anchor him, you anchor his very soul, and he will always cherish your bond — and you — as his one and only.

Flights

And I'm looking for a blonde in a Union Jack. A specific one, mind you, I didn't just
wake up this morning with a craving.

— 9th Doctor



In matters of the heart - or lower, ha! - Jovianth’s ego goes straight out the window and leaves him a stuttering boy. It will start with his ever-present arrogance, of course. He’ll walk straightaway out in the morning when he feels the first stirring of desire, of a green ready to rise — in a weyr as big as Igen, they go up often enough, aye? Jovianth feels that this is his best opportunity to pick the best of the best, the cream de le creme, for only the BEST will do for him, you see. He wants the best, and the best he will have! He only goes after the prettiest, and the most elegant, and the most lovely and demure and—

And then a green RISES and all of a sudden all of that specificity will go FLYING out the window. He’ll be as awkward as a schoolboy inasfar as social things are concerned. It’s not that he’s DISINTERESTED, or doesn’t know what he’s doing. He does. He just won’t engage in the banter he’ll normally enjoy with his Weyrfellows. Instead, it’s stammering, stumbling, wobbling through the air, avoiding his paramour green even as he chases her, veering as if he’s going to flee at the drop of a hat. He has nerves, the poor boy: who ever thought he’d need to focus on any woman but his Vashae?

It’s on capture, though, that his passion, so well hidden, explodes to the surface, almost angry at the private emotions getting out for all to see. He will broadcast as a gold is wont to do, though his is localized enough: enough to drop some inhibitions, perhaps cause a pregnancy or two over the course of his lifetime. All’s fair in love and war, after all! He’s a fierce lover, and some greens will tend to choose him rather than be chosen — thankfully, as his MOST awkward flying habits will yield him nothing but remorse and regret.

As he ages, he may well learn to control that flood of emotions, to yield them with a paramour’s skill… but that will take the ages for him to master, and his early turns will be filled with awkward fumbling and raging passion.

After a win, he’s not likely to linger, no matter how comely the green; embarrassed of his sharing of something so… personal, so intimate, with not only his green of choice but of anyone nearby to appreciate his explosive lust.

Thread

He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the
sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and can see the turn
of the universe. and… he's wonderful.

— 10th Doctor



The fog clears when it’s time for battle, when this good dragon goes to war, and those haunting voices are a tense, almost exultant chorus that becomes a backdrop for a non-stop deluge of dialogue. Every thought is vocalized, every move announced as it happens (as if you can’t see what he’s doing. He often assumes, though, that only HE knows what he’s doing, what is right and wrong.) It’s especially irritating at times since he’s quite nearly as perceptive as he believes he is.

He’ll use a LOT of firestone, as well, being poor at containing that burst of heat. It’s no mere singe he gives, it’s all the fury and pent-up Everything inside of him burning through the fog, bringing the true nature of his personality into stark illumination.

Afterwards, when the ashes have settled, he is a bit more larger than life than usual, the blue dragon victorious. Strutting like a peacock through the bowl and over the weyr, re-telling every clump that crisped at the touch of his flame.

That is, he will… until the fatigue catches up and sends him into a catatonic tailspin. He will have these strange narcoleptic fits sporadically, but sometimes they will catch him unawares, RIGHT in the middle of a sentence, RIGHT in the middle of the bowl, and you’re left with a big smelly blue snoring and blocking the way for a cart on the way to the Bazaar. Better tell them traders straight-up that they should go get a drink or throw some dice, because once he’s down, he’ll sleep a solid four to five candlemarks before he can even be roused; and even then, it will be grumpily. Ten hours is much more his … timeframe, so to speak, and he’ll snap out of those sleeping fits with the vigor of a new dragon, as egocentric and overeager as ever.

In some ways you may learn to dread those sleeping fits, knowing what comes at the other side of them, but… hey, at least it’s ten solid hours of SILENCE.

And we know, Vashae, that you of all people — by the time you are fighting Thread — will know the true and golden value of silence.

We wish you the most golden of silences in the best of times, Vashae, and the best of luck besides, with your Jovianth.

*~*~*~*


Vashaetria, Vash, Vashae! We have enjoyed you here at Igen and hope you enjoy your out-of-time, awkward and amusing Jovianth as much as we have enjoyed putting him together! As always, this inspiration is merely that - a guideline - and we wish you the most joy in the playing of him as can possibly be!

Credits

Name: Teya
Egg Desc: Vergora; Tuli tweak
Dragonet Desc: Teya, Q’fex
Messages: Hannah
Puppeteer: Teyaschianniarina
Inspiration: Teyaschianniarina, Sadaiya, Q’fex, Hannah

Clutchmates:
Kyara and When In Rome green Liareth
We’bey and A Queen’s Thirst for Blood green Saytomarth
I’yn and Shadow of the Empire green Vazirynath

Harper's Tale's 65th PC Clutch
Igen Weyr's 1st PC Clutch
Sadaiya's gold Jivayath and W'rin's bronze Valiuth
Vergora's gold Kohleth and N'thu's bronze Itzquintlith
July 12th, 2013