Location Ista Weyr
Position Senior Journeyman
Birthdate 8.418.7.08 (36)
Birthplace Ista Weyr
Sexuality Apprentice Mystery #8
Played-By n/a
Aliases Queernas, Quen
Player Siarna

“Quennas is a neat little boy.” The harpers wrote on the child’s files. Unfortunately, most of his evaluations since have had that written on them. The phrase only shifted slightly as he aged, and somehow passed down from the old masters to the new ones, so spread to the Journeyman. “Quennas is a neat little man.” They would say if ever asked, automatically, without thinking. It’s unfortunate that thirty turns later not much has changed. He’s grown, at least, although he never really grew into his long limbs. He is thin and angular, with narrow shoulders and hips. Quennas is not a man that will ever pack on much muscle (or fat, for that matter, even if he found enough time in the day to actually sit and eat three square meals). He has a lightness on his feet that not even he is really aware of, by bursts of adrenaline prompted mostly by Braughan that cause a reaction- leaping under a desk, ducking under a swung fist- that startles him every time it happens. And it does happen, more frequently than he’d like.

He is typically, obviously Istan in an Infirmary that does not house many natives, with medium brown skin and short brown hair that betrays just a hint of reddish undertone when he lets the sun do some work on it, which isn’t nearly as often as he’d like these days. His features are sharp; from the prominent cheekbones to pointed nose to high forehead that gives him a rather hawkish appearance. Wrinkles are starting to appear on his features; at the corners of his eyes, at the slightest pull of his eyebrows, at the corners of his mouth, that he tries very hard to ignore.

Everything about Quennas is impeccably neat. The Infirmary is a naturally chaotic and often a messy place. Quennas can’t help that, can’t help that he often arrives home more dishevelled than not, but he maintains an aura of professionalism in his attire whether out with friends or at work. Not a hair out of place, not a button undone. Everything in it’s proper place.


Some men just want to watch the world burn.

Quennas doesn’t have a grand plan. He doesn’t have a reason for doing what he does other than it’s fun, other than the rush of satisfaction he gets by watching the reaction he gets, the rush when he says something perfectly pointed, that stabs an old wound. He wants to push buttons. He wants to see what words make people flinch, as if he had physically struck them. He likes to be challenging and to be challenged in return. He wants people to stoop to his level; it’s invigorating. It’s exciting. It doesn’t make him a popular person, but he’s not here to be popular. If he wanted to be liked, if hewanted to be that “nice guy” type, he would have become a dragonrider.

Even though he’s not here to be nice (and definitely not to be liked) he has a startling amount of empathy. He is good with patients when there is a need, and that in itself feels odd and out of place when seen by his colleagues. He can be stern and firm but understanding and sympathetic; there is a firm divide in Quennas’ mind between being a nice guy and being the right guy and it does add to his general success as a healer. Being nice doesn’t save a patient from bleeding out. Being nice doesn’t convince a patient to undergo surgery. Being firm, being strong, being confident and demanding does. It’s a skill that he’s obtained over the course of the turns, knowing how to act when, knowing when to switch it off when push comes to shove. It takes a great deal of empathy to know what buttons to push, after all; it’s that motivation to care about the other person’s feelings that is generally lacking.

Despite the fact that he’s wound a bit tight, he’s an excellent surgeon who works well under pressure, keeping his cool more easily when he has an emergency to focus on than he does in his normal everyday life. He’s strict with the apprentices, and sharp-tongued, though he gives good, detailed instructions when teaching, and tries to make sure to give praise where it’s due. He’s more cautious as a surgeon than his boss Braughan is, and while not naturally a loud man, he is strong-willed and has very particular ideas about how things should be done and how his area should be run, which puts him in frequent conflict with Braughan which only occasionally devolves into a screaming match. Quennas considers himself above such things, but… well. It’s hard not to yell back when someone is yelling in your face and calling you “Queernas” in front of the apprentices. He probably sees Paskam to complain about Braughan almost as often as Sarada does.

Common Knowledge


Did Quennas feel any pressure to become a dragonrider? He would never admit it, but yes. All his childhood friends (or it seemed like all his childhood friends) went into candidacy as soon as they were able, swept up in the dragonrider fever that took over the young children of the Interval. A handful of them did not go into candidacy- himself and Sudaje, in particular- deciding that the last thing they wanted to be bonded to a dragon. It would be convenient, sure, to have a beast that could bring you anywhere within a few breaths, but Quennas didn’t want another mind melded so closely to him. He had always been a bit of a loner of a child- not an introvert, not shy- but wanting enough of his own space that the thought of anyone linked so tightly to him was not a viable option. He joined the healercraft instead under the same reasons that many young apprentices did; wanting to help people and make a difference (and, of course, the certain prestige that becoming a healer had), and knowing full well that even if the Pass was turns away, there would always be a need for healers. It certainly helped that he was good at it, and had enough of a potential to be taken in by Master Niruvan when it was time to take apprentices, around the same time Sudaje shifted over to apprentice under Master Therden.

It became quickly apparent for Quennas that neediness was a huge turn-off, and that his need for his own space didn’t magically change when he hit adolescence. He wasn’t looking for true love any more than he was looking for a best friend forever. The moment the other person started to get a little too clingy, a little too attention-craving, Quennas was done. And he found it oddly easy to walk away. Oddly easier to be bluntly honest about the whole thing. Some people appreciated it. Some people didn’t. He didn’t stay friends with those people for long. Even as an apprentice, he knew that he would end up dealing with enough neediness at work- enough people that needed his undivided time and attention- that asking for it in his private life as well quickly became too much for an independent, self-sufficient person that Quennas was becoming.

He had never taken very serious thought about his preferences, not when he was weyrbred and most of the other apprentices were too and the Journeymen and Masters in the Weyr for so long that there was hardly an issue. Nobody cared if he liked women or if he liked men. Nobody cared that his preferences were often a little rougher, a little more demanding than the average teenager.

Quennas was progressing well, personally and professionally, when Master Niruvan died unexpectedly and his apprenticeship was abruptly switched to Braughan, the new Head Surgeon and a decidedly different sort of man. It was a hard time. Quennas was still grieving, and Braughan, not the greatest of teachers under the best of circumstances, was in the midst of establishing his authority with the staff. Their relationship has improved somewhat as Quennas climbed through the ranks and they have worked and saved patients together; however, Braughan will likely never see a boy he taught as a peer, and their leadership styles just don’t mesh very well, particularly when both of them are determined that it’ll be their own way or the highway.

Over the turns, Quennas has considered putting in for a transfer out of this intolerable situation, but he decides against it each time, refusing to leave the Weyr and people of his birth — or at least, refusing to feel as if he’s being forced out of his own home. If he felt the choice was legitimately his own it might not sting so much, but he’ll not be the one to turn tail and run when Ista was his first, when he has family here in the skies. He’d like to take over the Surgery himself someday, and now that he’s settling comfortably into his senior journeyship, he can see a light at the end of the tunnel: he’s sure he can eventually attain his mastery, and equally sure that Braughan never will.


Father: Q’lorn, green Terreath
Mother: Nellara, Lower Caverns (little old Auntie)
Half-brother: Q’rel, blue Valerth
Smattering of other half-sibs IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED


A few dragonriders
Cinnamon, Patches, Dollop - the CUTEST cats


Overheard from the apprentice barracks:



That Fuckstick




Rank: Senior Journeyman
Specialty: Surgery
Ista Weyr, under Master Niruvan and Journeyman Braughan

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