OOC Name: Adumbratus
I was lost within your frequencies- How beautiful your song
Now we’re older than we used to be
It seems like we are gone
24 | Male
Tarovir is eyecatching, and a figure to be remembered, but maybe not entirely in a positive way. His eyes are beautiful, a rich brown flecked throughout with hazel. His lips are full, nose a bit bent- But not to the point of looking overly aggressive, really, just enough to add a bit of character. He’s tall, six foot one, and holds himself proudly, back straight, not one to duck or cower. It’s obvious from a glance that there’s some sort of training and discipline, given the way he stands so tall, so still, looking others straight in the eye. The muscle helps, too, a body built by hard work, and time spent fighting and surviving in what used to be a Hold.
His skin is tanned, a deep earthen color, thanks to both sun and dirt. Tarovir’s skin is somewhat rough, hands calloused, skin gently flecked to the point of looking like dirt was simply ground into his skin. The candidate’s hair is a dark, solid black, falling down to his shoulderblades. Usually, it would have been cut before now, but Tarovir simply hasn’t had the time. His bangs are also long, casting along his jawline, even when the rest of his hair is tied back. Nowadays, Tarovir’s hair is almost always up, most often in a high ponytail- But, given his present situation, that's not entirely surprising
Tarovir, for all his standing tall, has been struck low before. There are scars on him, cuts and nicks on his arms and legs, nose broken once or twice, a scar or two from split lips. His back, especially, is scarred from knife and blade, a few burns added more recently. There's a chance that he won't gain any more what with the new weyr but..... that's a slim chance indeed.
Tarovir dresses blandly, choosing greyscales, browns, and beiges over all other colors. He tends towards darker colors, always tighter undershirts and looser outerwear. All very effective, practical- And that’s the extent of it. Practical. He doesn’t dress for his own enjoyment, or to catch the eye of others. He dresses how he does simply because that’s the best way to dress for a fight- Or, more recently, it’s the best thing to wear when living in a strange, uncertain place.
Tarovir is... not the nicest person you'll meet. Not at first. He's grouchy and irritable, often acting like he's woken up on the wrong side of the bed for a sevenday straight. He's not one that plays well with others, tending to just do things himself most of the time- That was, he can be sure they're done and done correctly. If he's forcibly paired with someone... There's going to be some arguing. And derisive comments. And maybe a physical altercation.
Because, really, Taro doesn't handle anger well. You insult him, then he's going to punish you for it. With his fists. In your face. Very useful for surviving the chaos of Pern, but.... slightly less useful living in this new weyr on this new planet. He's trying to do better, and not just lash out... But that simply means he's going to lash out verbally, and resort to fighting after a few minutes, instead of just instantly.
All that said, Tarovir does have some positive traits. He's exceedingly loyal to friends, when he has them, and is willing to put himself in danger to protect them. Taro also has strong sense of respect towards those of a higher rank to him, always polite, always referring to them correctly. He seems to respect female riders more than men, even if they're of the same rank. That being said, Taro is almost fearful of women in positions of power. Less so if they're riders or handlers, but he is always excessively cautious around them, until he knows they can be trusted.
If there is anything that Tarovir likes without restraint, it is water. If allowed, he would spend every candlemark in that lake. He's pretty adept with catching fish, probably because he spends so much time in the water. If you want to get on Taro's good side, ask to hang out at the lake.
Born | Winter 2890
Youngest Sister Amala dies | Summer 2897 (7)
Sold to Mercenary Band | Winter 2899 (9)
Hired by Jaska | 2907 (17)
Attacked by another Raiding Party | 2910 (20)
Call for Discovery Weyr | 2910 (20)
Attack on Discovery Weyr | 2914 (24)
Tarovir’s life has always been harsh. He was one of several children, not the eldest and most respected, or the youngest and most cared for. His parents had no time for him, nor for most of his other siblings, and so the children often turned on each other, vying for favor and love. Despite all that, Tarovir learned kindness, picked up from nearby families, kind words spoken by strangers to others. He did what he could to get along with his siblings, but was most fond of his younger sister, Amala. She was sickly, and plagued often by nightmares, so she was weak and often excluded from the other siblings’ activities. Tarovir took care of her, though, getting her things she could not reach, playing with her when she was lonesome, and every single night he would sing to her, helping chase away the nightmares as best he could.
It wasn’t his fault. Illness had caught up, hidden to the family while sapping the strength and life from the girl, and in the course of a night, she passed away. Tarovir was still a child- He did not, could not know death, what it meant. All he knew was that each night, it was his job to sing her to sleep, to help try and ease her pain and suffering. And one night, after he had sung to her, she had not awoken. Taro had woken himself in the morning at the howls from his mother, followed swiftly by a fierce rage- He had been the last to see Amala alive, and so he was to blame for her death. He was screamed at, siblings joining in, branded a bad omen, a wretched thing, a death-omen and cursed creature, what meager things he had ripped from him.
He was not a part of the family any more- though had he been before?- but his mother was vicious, and would not simply let the boy go, no, not when she could pawn him off for food or clothes for the other children. Everyone who passed near the house was offered the small boy, distant and unfed, but sneaky, able to do menial work, he’ll do anything you ask of him. Anything she had to say to get him bought. He tried to run, several times- Why would he stay in a place where his worth was being haggled upon?- but it seemed every time he fled, he would scarcely start to lose sight of the house before one of his siblings would pounce, bodily catching him, attacking him for running in the first place, and dragging him back home as a feline would a mouse, earning praise and reward from their parents.
Tarovir was saved, if such a word can be used, bought up by a passing mercenary band. They were more family than his blood had been, designating a “turnday” for him, which they celebrated nearly religiously. He was taught numbers and letters, able to read and write his own name and simple, but necessary, words. His parents hadn’t taught him “right,” whatever that meant, and the mercenaries sought to rectify that. Taro wasn’t there just to be rescued, though- He had to earn his keep, starting by running to scout out places with supplies, keeping their weapons and items in check, and eventually helping snatch and steal supplies with the others.
Things constantly change- The next major change came in the form of Tarovir leaving the only real family he knew. They passed by a small... scout or something, a tiny kid with a massive dog, and he bartered for a bodyguard of some kind. Sure enough, Tarovir was picked, and so he left the mercenary group, and left with Jaska. He was sure that when the younger kid was done, he'd return back to them. He never did.
He stayed with Jaska, following the other wherever the smaller male decided they were going... Which, eventually, was trouble. They had set camp, and in the middle of the night got ambushed, fallen upon by a raiding party, envious of what little supplies Jaska and Tarovir had managed to scrape together. The bandits finally left, but it let Tarovir battered, Jaska both missing an eye and his faithful dog, and the both of them without any supplies. Tarovir dragged them both to the closest point of civilization, Landing Weyrhold, and thankfully, they both got patched up.
Jaska took longer to heal, obviously, and in that time something happened with the dragonriders- it wasn't like Tarovir cared enough to keep up with it all- and a goldrider was trying to get everyone she could to come to her new weyr- Not on Pern. On some other place, "Green Star" or something like that. Tarovir was skeptical, but Jaska surely wasn't, all but begging for them both to go. They had to wait a bit longer- Jaska had to endure not just a short Between, but a terribly long one. But- But somehow he healed up, and they both made the flight over.
It's certainly been an adjustment. But there's no shortage of things to do, and Jaska certainly still needs looking after. As does the small feline-like creature that's been following Tarovir around as of late. But things are obviously not any better here- Not if those strange creatures keep attacking the weyr.