|Name Charian, shortened to Cha’an|
|Age Mid 20s maybe?|
|Appearance Cha’an is a tall and pale skinned androgynous looking individual. They have pale slate gray eyes and shoulder length dark brown hair that is often worn in a practical and easy to manage low ponytail. In the past they were never seen outside of traditional riders garb. It was hard to find Cha’an anywhere other than the skies. More recently they have tried to incorporate other, slightly less durable and practical clothing into their wardrobe.|
|Personality Cha’an used to be a very playful and friendly dragonrider. They were the type of person who was always there to lend a new weyrling a hand, to work closely with candidates who had questions about riding and grooming and dragon temperament, and was always one of the first to be in the air at the sign of trouble. |
Since the Death Court wars, they have been withdrawn, quiet. Still a comforting and silent presence to help out the younger and weaker lost riders, but they do not laugh and joke any more.
|Ability Cha’an is a human dragonrider whose dragon cut ties to join the Death Court.|
- There are riders at the Vella Crean who remember the time before the Death Court wars. The odd, hard-to-explain, nebulous feeling of having something that was such a huge part of their being wane and fade. A bond that was supposed to remain forever weaken.
- Cha’an was a dragon rider. They had always been a dragon rider. Cha’an and brown Keritath. They had grown so used to having their name paired with their bond, it had been impossible to think of being called anything else. “Cha’an and Keritath.” They were a pair that were supposed to live forever. To become riders who rose the ranks, became council members one day.
- When the sundering first happened, Cha’an was convinced that Keritath had died. The white hot flash of pain as half of their whole was ripped away. It had hurt, a psychic link wasn’t supposed to be shredded so absolutely, and it was a pain that was indescribable. Cha’an was human. They did not have psychic muscles. They were not supposed to feel pain or discomfort from their psyche.
- But they did.
- And Cha’an grieved her bond who had died.
- It was the Death Court. Cha’an was sure. Oh, they had heard the rumours. That some unbounded dragons of the Vella Crean had chosen a new side. That in the rare case, a dragon had torn their bond to join a Court that disavowed such blatant acts of slavery.
- But it had not quite occurred to Cha’an that Keritath would have done the same.
- Cha’an does not remember the first flush of battle. The waves of dragons who breathed blue fire, who razed down villages and caused destruction. The Courts were antagonistic, but never at outright war. The dragons of the Vella Crean were not equipped to deal with such acts of devastation.
- As the dragons fought overhead, a handful of dragonriders keened the loss of their dragons. Surely they had died at the hands of the Death Court.
- It was revenge that had Cha’an rise to the skies on dragonback. Unbonded dragons who still swore loyalty to the Vella Crean. Or dragons who had lost their riders but had not died themselves. They were going to get revenge for Keritath. To kill the dragons who had killed her bond.
- In hindsight, it should have occurred to Cha’an that perhaps the rumours were true. That perhaps some of the dragons had left their riders by choice.
- Cha’an met a scarred brown dragon in the skies of battle, and something broke inside them.
The Lost Riders (aka: Mia and Onesto hijack this scene)
- It was Ourai who brought them together. The dragonriders who lost their dragons not to the war itself, but to the Death Court. The war led to casualties on either sides. Dragons who lost their riders, children who lost their parents. But the Sundering, as it was soon called, effected a select few in a different way.
- There was pain at the betrayal, shock that a bond between two souls could be repudiated so violently. Shame, that their other half had gone to cause such chaos and cruelty. The Lost Riders, they called themselves, shells of their former selves who quietly kept watch. Who made the effort to protect their home and the children but were shadows.
- “This can’t go on forever.” Mia scowled as she crossed her arms, staring down from the parapets at the quiet and stoic group of men and women who were dutifully helping out in preparation of the Court Hatching.
- She was not talking to anyone in particular. Or maybe she was. It always seemed to be the case that whenever the cleric was in earshot Mia had something to say. Not to him directly (oh, she was taking very special care to ensure she never addressed him directly), but in a loud, offhand manner that clearly expected a response.
- “My Lady?” Onesto paused, closing the distance between them as he peered down over her shoulder. “Is something the matter?”
- Mia did not appreciate that his voice was so polite. The cleric had always been refined and polite, but not with this veneer of distance. She took a step closer so that her shoulder brushed his chest, heard the slight intake of breath as he immediately stepped away.
- So that was how it was going to be, was it?
- Temper lurked behind Mia’s eyes. It had been a stupid and drunk mistake. She was trying to get over it, but every time the damn man looked at her with his big and gentle eyes all she wanted to do was haul him off to her quarters! Was it her fault that he had crept under her defences, and now she had this maddening need to win his approval, his smiles? It was not! It was ALL. HIS. Fault.
- “My lady?”
- Onesto’s gentle prompt broke Mia’s thoughts as her scowl deepened. “The Lost Riders” Funny, how the name had stuck. “You need to fix them, cleric. I need my riders back.”
- “I don’t believe that they are broken, my lady.” He offered in his quiet and gentle way.
- Of course he would say that. He had always insisted that she was not broken, that she was not mad. It had helped hadn’t it? To have someone who was completely on her side, who helped her see through the rage, to calm the beast?
- (Mia’s mind was getting off track again and she was not happy about this).
- “You said the same about me, Onesto.” Mia’s words were hushed as she looked up at him, forgetting for a moment that she was mad at this baffoon. “You brought be back and helped me heal.”
- “Mia.” The Leader of the Light Court had forgotten how much she enjoyed the way he said her name. His eyes were soft and full of compassion as he watched her, and such sadness. (Was she the reason that they were sad? Mia didn’t see how that could be.) “You were never broken.”
- Maybe telling him that it had been a dumb idea, had been a dumb idea. Maybe she should have just pushed through with her feelings. Mia was lost as to how she was expected to navigate this new, uncomfortable distance with Onesto. It was at the tip of her tongue to apologize, to demand that he just love her dammit, to wave away more pressing matters and to just talk about feelings and their future.
- But the only thing she uttered was. “I expect you to fix them, Cleric.”
- Ourai eyed the Cleric with suspicion. “You want to get rid of us?”
- “No, that is not my intention at all.” He assured her. “A break.”
- “A retreat, my dear.” Naeodin supplied from her wheelchair. “Think of it as an all expense paid vacation.”
- “To Techotl.”
- “Yes, exactly.”
- “A dangerous world full of monsters.”
- “Where the water is acidic.”
- “They have ways to-“
- “And even the flowers will try to eat you.”
- The Empress sighed and looked to her cleric for assistance.
- “There is an event with the indigenous dragons species-“
- “You want to send my riders who are all traumatized by losing their bonds to a hatching?” There was true outrage in Ourai’s tone as she bristled, standing up.
- “Shut up and sit down Ourai.” Mia’s tone was exasperated. “Just listen. It’s not a bad idea.”
- The Leader of the Lost Riders visibly grumped as she sat down, crossing her arms and slouching into her seat.
- “You need a break.” Mia’s tone was cool and no-nonsense. “The war is over, the city is at peace. We have enough Projects to protect the Vella Crean, but your riders need a break. Something new. It’s not going to help them heal to see the same city and the same towers, to have constant reminders of life before the blue ass-hat. I know. I’ve been there.” She looked towards Naeodin who nodded. “We’re not getting rid of you. The Lost Riders are family. You helped hold together the courts, helped the Lost Children. But now the danger has died down and we have space to breath, we think the change of scenery will be good for you. And them.”
- “Techotl is not as dangerous as it seems, my dear.” Naeodin assured Ourai. “Your team will be coming with me, so that I can attend this event.”
- Onesto delicately cleared his throat. “Ah, your Eminence, that is-“
- “A great idea, my cleric?” Naeodin asked archly. At his silence she smiled with bemusement. “The indigenous life from do not have that instinctive need to bond. Your riders will be safe. The world has its… challenges, but it might be a better distraction. I can’t see the Lost Riders lounging around at a beach, their days empty.”
- “Navigating unfamiliar and new terrain might be a good challenge.” Ourai agreed slowly. “So you’re not sending them out to bond?” Her gaze was dark and suspicious. “To be betrayed twice—“
- “The Antirr’s bonding process is a long and complex one, Lady Ourai.” Onesto supplied. “None of your riders will be taken by surprise.”
- Ourai nodded carefully. “There are a few who would probably enjoy the challenge.” She slowly agreed. “Very well. A party of Lost Riders.” What could go wrong?