Character Type: Weyrfolk
Rank: Weyrfolk (Hears All Dragons)
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual


With dark brown eyes, blackish hair, and tanned olive skin, Pavern looks like a fairly typical Istan boy, and without any distinguishing marks his unremarkable appearance keeps him pretty invisible in a crowd. There’s not so much as a birthmark on his body — though if anyone’s lucky enough to get the privilege of a close inspection they’ll discover a mole or two in some not so public places.

No stranger to hard work, he’s a tall boy with toned muscles that are built for intense hours of work rather than showing himself off. There’s no real bulk to him but once he gets into action his strength is out for the world to see, and he has it in spades. Rough, calloused hands and a subtle farmer’s tan are dead giveaways that he’s worked his fair share of life with tools and animals both. His face is starting to develop a weathered, weary look that adds a few Turns on to his otherwise young age. There is always some kind of pungent scent in his wake and what kind it is depends on how soon it’s been since he was last mucking out stables. At worst, it’s the usual smell of wet hay and horse dung, and at best it’s a natural musk that certainly only few will find really appealing.

Since he typically works disgusting and dirty jobs (often thanklessly) he shies away from clothes that can’t take a good beating, even in the Weyr where there’s a storeroom for him to use. There’s scarcely a moment where you’ll find him not wearing wherhide.


Pavern has finally reached a place in his life where he feels like he can breathe easily. While his gift to hear all dragons still presents a unique obstacle in his life, he’s learning how to embrace it as a part of himself rather than a burden he’s been shouldering for years. There are still moments when things become more than he can handle, especially in a Weyr filled with chatty dragons, but he truly does love the experience of being able to talk to them all. They’ve never lost their status in his heart as truly remarkable beasts. To get to know them and watch their varying personalities in action is something which his words could never do justice.

He hasn’t yet grown accustomed to living in the Weyr, however, and tends to stick to the fringes of crowds where nobody can see him. It’s a habit that he picked up over the years to avoid putting himself out there as a viable target for meaner, snottier children; if he can stay quiet and go unnoticed then he will. Being such a unique individual in the Weyr makes that incredibly difficult, so often he’ll disappear into explored cracks and crevices where he can get away from it all, keeping the company of only his thoughts and those few dragons who just can’t help but stick their noses in. The attention isn’t completely unwarranted, just overwhelming at times. There are moments when he wishes he could be a normal kid again. He would be lying if he said otherwise.

Though kind and certainly humble, he’s incredibly walled off, and has significant difficulty letting himself get close to people. It’s an internal conflict between his gentle nature and his desire to withdraw into himself; he wants to make friends but is never sure if people like him for who he is or because he’s different.


Birthdate: 8.435.07.26

Pavern’s childhood has not been a particularly kind one. This was no fault of his parents, who tried their best to nurture and support him, but being the youngest kind of five and a markedly different person singled him out for constant torture and torment.

His unique gift to hear all dragons presented itself when he was very young, but without anyone from the Weyr or knowledgeable about dragons in his life to educate him, he was left to uncover the gift on his own. It was neither easy nor fun. Dragons frequently flew over their cothold, known as Cliffback Cothold, on sweeps during the day and night, the latter of which led to a serious case of insomnia. Nothing short of fellis drops could give him a good night of sleep. During the day he would catch snippets of conversation and answer them accordingly, which quickly grew into what everyone else considered a serious disorder. Kids would laugh at him when he claimed that he could hear dragons talking to him; his parents desperately tried to convince him to give up the charade, convinced that their son was merely acting out for attention.

Word spread fast in such a small holding. His mother tried to look past the shame and be good to him, but his father gradually distanced himself more and more as his apparent dim-wittedness grew with age. Among all of his siblings, only his oldest sister seemed to pity him, while the others took joy in pushing him about as the other children of the hold did. He was never afforded the same opportunities as others — not because they couldn’t or wouldn’t give him the chance, but most often because of sabotage from his peers, the most common of which were practical jokes and nicknames that made him seem crazier than he was.

He learned to be content with his miserable life before he was twelve. By that point he had become a stable boy, a job that he loved both for the solitude of mucking out stables and the quietness of the horses. That way when he felt the need to make off-handed comments about gossip, he didn’t have anyone nearby to mock him for it.
Eventually his parents grew too concerned to continue to let his poor behavior slide. Through word of mouth they learned that Ista Weyr had a mindhealer who could work miracle. Already desperate to correct what they thought was a sickness of the mind, they packed up and left for the Weyr, where Pavern met Eldvari for the first time. Immediately the mindhealer was able to figure out that he wasn’t crazy at all, but that he had the remarkable gift to speak to all dragons. It was decided that Pavern would be better served by staying on at the Weyr. For him, it wasn’t anything to be discussed. If he could hear dragons, then the Weyr was his home.

Though now he struggles to find a place in the Weyr. He isn’t sure whether he wants to Apprentice or try his hand at Impression. Until he figures it out, whenever he’s not working with Eldvari to temper his gift, he’s putting his hands to good use, mending and tending where he can. His favorite place remains the stables — though with such kind company around, he doesn’t favor solitude as much as he used to.



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