Post by milo on Feb 16, 2011 1:19:19 GMT -5
"Action is the real measure of intelligence."
Napoleon Hill
Napoleon Hill
Name Milune
Age 18
Gender Female
Sexuality Heterosexual
Rank Journeywoman Healer
Appearance
For a Pernese woman, Milune could be considered pretty. In another time and place she may have been considered beautiful, but due to her scarring pretty is the highest she'll get. She is not the tallest individual either, standing at roughly five foot five. But that does little to diminish the presence she carries about herself. There is no Napoleon complex here. No, she carries herself with dignity and confidence. However there is also the typical gentility of a healer about her.
Her movements are always careful, but sure. She's like a cat on a tightrope, graceful but looking as if every step was well planned out. As she prowls along she often wears a smile. Nearly perfect white teeth glint in a heart shaped face. Her cheek bones are high and jaw line narrow. Eyebrows curve over almond shaped eyes and often freely move with her expressions. A modest nose sits above full lips, perfectly straight and dotted with freckles. Though her bottom lip has a small scar, and there is a larger crescent shaped one on her neck. However there is no mistake that she is a woman with such features.
Though not the most startling or exotic of colors her eyes are a pleasant hue. If one were to be poetic they could be described as akin to a light rich honey. Going the other way, one could state that they are simply a lighter version of brown.
Moving along to the rest of her one would find that she takes as much care with her own body as she would another persons. Milune has a strong sense of hygiene. As a result she is meticulously clean and well groomed. The heavy ringlets of her hair have a healthy gloss to them. Washed at least once a day, the thick mass is quite beautiful. Dark chestnut and lighter browns mingle together to make a naturally highlighted mane. It is perhaps her only vanity, second only to her need to stay clean.
Her fair skin is also kept free of dirt. It is a pale cream which tans in harsher snow glare or sun. She may burn the first time, but usually she is fine. Though this is far from the most troublesome of her skin problems.
Milune is covered in a story of misfortune that is written on her in the form of scars. On her upper arms she has four circular ones, roughly the size of an Earth dime in diameter. There are eight in total there. Her ribs are also marred, four jagged lines slashed roughly across. The beginning of two decorate the underside of her left breast, the other duo on top. As her chest grew in the locations shifted, ending up thus. But the scarring itself spans from her front to the very beginning of her back due to her hasty attempt to twist away from a mauling Dragonet.
The most crippling of her scars though would be the ones on her hip. Talons dug deep, raking from the start of her hip bone and down along her right buttock. Though the wound healed neatly as could be expected there was some scar tissue damage. From time to time it does ache and she fondly refers to it as her weather wound.
If one were to look past the pearly pink scars that decorate her they would see that her body type is one that a fair share may find attractive. Due to her constant activities around the Weyr she is in good physical shape. Milune is of the athletic type. On Earth one would say that she has a dancers build. Instead of bulging mass she has lean wiry muscles. She has long legs and curvaceous hips, leading up to a tapered waist. Her rear is tight and her belly flat with the outline of abs apparent. The fates that be have also been kind enough to gift her with a generous, yet modest bosom. Not bulging out of her shirt, but not flat chested, she is pleased with her appearance.
Back on the topic of bodily strengths though, she isn't built for great feats of it. More agile than anything, the healer can scarcely lift anything heavier than sixty pounds. But considering she is always climbing around or unto dragons, her back and shoulders are also quite strong. She has good flexibility too, able to twist a bit more in certain places than others. In general though, Milune is happy with her appearance and confident with her looks.
Personality
Outwardly, Milune is calm and level headed. She has cultivated these traits through the progression of her craft to better put distressed patients at ease. The girl strives to be a rock for the injured to lean upon and a confident for the bleeding hearts of their families. At least, that is what she strives to be. That isn't to say that she hasn't inwardly wanted to strangle a few of the people she has dealt with. In fact, when seriously agitated with people the gentle cheer she usually portrays takes on a warped feeling. Think of the clown that always creeped the living daylights out of you at a circus. That would be how the Healer deals with overly annoying patients. If all else fails there's always sedatives.
A tad OCD, the woman likes to organize things. If it's out of place, she'll fix it. If she can't, it'll drive her crazy for the rest of the day. This doesn't just adhere to physical objects, but emotional states of others and injuries as well. Say someone has a shattered leg. Can't align it? Had to amputate it? Insert copious amounts of guilt and just that utter feeling of wrongness, here. There are four pencils in her desk all lined up and one slightly out of place? Yeah, she'll go out of her way to fix it. However, this curious obsessive compulsion only seems to adhere to when she is working.
She also doesn't tolerate stupidity very well. Ignorance she can understand. If someone doesn't know something, they can't help that they were wrong. But someone being flat out stupid for the sake of being stupid? Yeah, no. Milune has been known to bark orders at people. At the hall, she was known to send some of the younger apprentices scattering when they were doing something wrong. In fact she has even kicked a few of them out of the way to correct mistakes that they were making, under the impression that if you want to get something done right you have to do it yourself.
However some of that just melts away when she isn't on duty. She lets the burdens of her craft slip from her shoulders and her hair come down. Off the clock Milune is more outgoing and friendly, even perhaps a little silly. Not above a good joke or some witty banter, she's quite sociable. Generally she's a likable person, but knows she can't be friends with everybody. Some people just don't mesh, and she makes it a point to avoid the people she knows aggravate her.
When placed between the proverbial rock and hard place where she actually has to deal with people she doesn't like, Milune tries her best. In other words she is civilly polite, yet makes no effort to extend the olive branch. She'll chat, deal with them, then make an attempt to make a hasty exit after doing what she had to. Again, she doesn't tolerate stupid well and knows that certain things need delicate handling. Generally, she finds the only delicate way to get something done with someone you don't like is to do it as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Yet like everybody out there the girl has her flaws. For one she has an unhealthy habit of keeping everything bottled up inside. When she does finally let loose though, it's a proverbial tsunami of emotion. She can completely melt down and it can take her hours, even a day or two, to recover from such an incident. However this really only applies to her personal life. Luckily, those times are few for her.
Her biggest fear though would be the most hindering considering her craft and her location. Milune has an uncontested phobia of Brown dragons due to the same traumatic incident that has left her physically scarred. They could be the gentlest of beasts but if they get too close to her she gets slightly antsy. Though, her reactions have severely tempered due to her consistent exposure to the beasts.
On top of that she loathes to be pitied. So she has scars? Big deal. They're just another feature as far as she's concerned. The looks can be annoying sometimes. More often than not, she'll politely ask a person to stop staring in such a manner.
Another thing she seems to have a problem with is small children. Their constant screaming and whining sets her teeth on edge. On top of that they're so fragile. She always feels like she's going to break them if she even looks at them wrong. If you want to see her pull her hair out, put her in a room full of screaming babies. Never in the history of Pern will someone have gone crazy faster.
And to put the icing on the would be cake, Milune is a sympathy spewer. In other words, if someone around her starts vomiting she is right there with them. It's quite funny, in a twisted way. She can deal with blood, guts, and gore. But vomit? Now that's a different thing entirely.
History
On the morning of a particularly hot morning a lone woman got a rather astonishing surprise. Her water broke and she went into labor. Now usually this would be an expected occurrence, except that Lareen had no clue she was expecting. A portly woman by nature, she had no signs of a pregnant belly. Her monthly came and went, though it was irregular. It had been light too, but she had simply chalked it up to stress. In fact, she hadn't even felt any movement. So the weaver was quite thoroughly if not pleasantly surprised. Several hours of intense labor later and she gave birth to her third child. It was a girl and her husband named her Milune.
From the time of her birth until she was around four the girl had an easy life. Being born in a dragonrider group afforded her family a couple of comforts that holder life did not. They were always safe, wanted little for food, and never had to worry about shelter. Her parents were also skilled crafters so they made enough marks to buy little trinkets to keep their children happy.
As she grew, it was apparent the lass was a bright child. Her eyes were always wide and looking around, taking everything in. During infancy she enjoyed watching her mother work at a loom and laughed often at her brothers antics. She met her first dragon, that she could remember, when she was about four and a half. It was a Blue who had strained a wing during flight. Her sire was tending to the injury and she was near by. For a child it was a small act of a deital power that she sat there silently, watching in awe. The dragon was amused, the rider likewise, and her Dad was right there with them. In the years to come, Milune would come to cherish that first memory of dragon kind.
However before she gained the wisdom to appreciate such a memory she went through her more wild years of growth. Her mother had tried and failed to groom her into a Weaver like herself. The child absolutely hated being stuck in a stuffy room with a bunch of boring yarn. Spinning, sewing, darning stockings, she loathed it and took every opportunity she could to escape her mothers clutches. It was much more fun to have mudball fights with Eaner and Nelran. In turn, she was punished with more sewing. Most of the time it was darning stockings, her little fingers small and steady enough to get in tiny neat stitches in the fragile fabric. Years later, she would thank her Mother for making her sit and sew.
By the time she was eight years old Milune had decided that enough was enough when it came to anything that had to do with weaving. In a fit, she was out of the loom room as fast as her little legs could carry her. Who did she go seeking? Why, her father of course. He always got to be around Dragons, up close that was. She lived in a dragonrider group but rarely got to really interact with them. Why should she have to sit around in a dusty room with cranky older women when she could be having fun with her Papa?
As one could guess her Mother was not happy to learn that her only daughter had decided she wanted to be like her father. "I was training you to be a weaver!," Lareen had wailed. To which Milune replied, "Weaving is boring! I want to help Dragons and Riders like Papa!". A screaming match ensued which Itumen eventually stepped in and stopped. He slept in the communal dorms for a few days for his efforts but in the end he won his wife over and his daughter got her wish.
The next day, she began her informal training to become a Dragon Healer under her father. True, she didn't really do anything but watch at first. He guided her, telling her and showing her with his own actions how to treat various wounds. She absorbed it like a dry sponge. He really hadn't expected her to be so eager, or so attentive, so was shocked to learn what she did on her own one night. Shocked, and a tad angry.
Two Blues had gotten into a fight during a mating flight over a Green. Both had come out of it with deep wounds. He had spent the better part of a day patching the two of them up, so didn't really have time to deal with anything else. It was during the last hour or so of mending the second blue that a young boy had come looking for help. His Mothers Wher had just come in and had a gash in her back leg. It wasn't deep but it wasn't shallow either, which is why the woman sent her bow to fetch help.
Not knowing what else to do and knowing that her sire was too busy to help, Milune had taken it upon herself to deal with the wounded. Using the knowledge she had learned from Itumen, she tried to make it comfortable. First she slathered it with numbweed, then dabbed it with redwort. She was still only eight at the time, nearly nine, and her skills reflected her age. But luckily for her and the Wher her sire was done a short time in. He had come in, assessed the situation, then took over.
However her father was quick to admonish her for acting without his guidance. He threatened to keep from teaching her if she tried to do such a thing again. And of course she had obeyed, but was very disappointed. Hadn't she done good? The truth of the matter was yes, she had done good. But Itumen feared that she would grow too over confident and attempt to go farther on her own if presented with such a situation again. Though, he was pleased that she had kept her head and had realized the extent of her capabilities.
In fact, she had done exceptionally well to the point that her sire realized that she would do better at a Hall. Though technically he was a Journeyman of his craft, he hadn't actually gotten the teaching he should have. He had learned from the previous Dragon Healer of the group, who had learned from hands on experience and a Midwife. But she was still too young for a Hall, even if she did have talent.
Grudgingly, Itumen chose to keep teaching her as best he could. As the years progressed he let her help him with small things, though kept up his verbal instruction. He even made her take notes. By the time she was eleven he gave her enough leash to let her help with dragons that had sore or strained muscles. But he kept her away from the more serious wounds. Some of the wildness in the lass had tamed during this duration too. The unrestrained energy she had exuded had been channeled into learning. She was no where near the woman she would become just yet (she still liked to shove her brothers in the snow) but it was a start.
Three months before her twelfth birthday, there was a hatching in one of the other dragonrider groups. Like all of the 'Weyr' bred, Milune was given the chance to stand for impression. Being the eager youth that she was the girl took the opportunity. She had been so excited to stand on the make shift sands, dressed in her white robe. Enthusiasm had made her bright eyed and she had gasped with glee as the first dragon hatched.
One by one dragonets hatched and found their partners. But a candidate a few people away from her ended up having a bit of misfortune. When he went to kneel to accept his dragonet he did so on an egg shell. It cut pretty deep and started bleeding pretty badly. Wanting to help and seeing that there weren't that many dragonets left anyway Milune figured she wasn't going to impress. So she wove her way over and attempted to aid the new Weyrling.
Too bad his new blue misunderstood her intentions. The dragonet rammed into her and shoved her way, sending her back a few feet. She stumbled and fell, landing on the ground hard. While in the process of trying to understand what happened to her the poor child ended up meeting a greater plight than the Weyrling she had been trying to help.
The healer lass ended up in the path of a very panicked, very anxious brown dragonet. He didn't care what he had to do or what obstacle he had to go over to get to his. Unfortunately for Milune that obstacle happened to be her. Sharp claws did some very painful and very scarring damage. She got four deep gouges in her right hip from front to back. His front claws ended up getting her ribs as she attempted to twist away, biting to the bone. One talon even nicked her face, splitting her bottom lip and leaving a small crescent scar on her neck. And as the hatchling kicked away from her the tips of his back claws dug into forearms, leaving eight neat puncture wounds.
In all, she was not in good shape. To be honest, she nearly bled to death right there on the sands. If it wasn't for her newly impressed brother A'run she probably would have. He'd ripped his robe off and started pressing on her wounds with the cloth as her father scrambled out of the stands. It was the worst mauling that the folk had seen in turns and it left her with physical as well as mental scars. From a while after that she had a particularly hysterical fear of Browns. If one got too close to her she started hyperventilating like a cornered animal.
Milunes birthday came and went. With it, so did the news that she would be going to the Healer Hall in the south. This both excited her and in a way it relieved her. Though she had mostly healed up from the Hatching fiasco she needed some time away from the Weyr. All dragons were making her nervous at that point. They'd learned after she healed that she had some muscle scarring in her thigh. Though nothing too serious, she tended to ache when it was going to rain badly.
When she got to the Healer Hall though, she quickly found herself devastatingly bored. She knew all of this easy stuff already, and the errands were so tedious it made her want to scream. A bored twelve year old is always a bad thing, so of course she ended up getting into trouble. When punishing her didn't work, she did have a rebellious spirit after all, her Masters looked to other alternatives. One of them finally caught on and realized that she was just bored. So, they gave her more work to do.
Her peers didn't take this very well. They thought she was a 'Masters Pet.'
Jealously quickly reared its ugly head and Milune quickly learned that discretion was the better part of valor. She learned to ignore their jeers and focus on her studies. Well, in most cases. Asserting the backbone she inherited from her father she told quite a few of the other apprentices off. In fact, she even showed them up to shut them up, disproving that she was a brown noser.
But she also learned what it was to be a diplomat. True, most of her peers did not like her for a while. However there were those few who did enjoy her company and for their sake, tolerated the presence of those who scorned her. She tried killing them with kindness, even trying to help them with some of their harder studies. But in the end nothing really worked and she figured that they weren't worth having as friends anyway.
It was this bullying and forced cloistering that ended up tempering her. With it, the determination to succeed. When it came to hands on learning though, she was nervous. Theory was different than actual practice. However the Journeyman who she had been learning under was kind, as was her first patient. The man had been injured in a farming incident. A grain scythe had slashed his thigh and he had required stitches. Observing the whole thing was a journeyman. After talking her through what she had to do Milune did her best to heal the man.
She had been so nervous she nearly burst into tears but pulled through in the end. All those relentless hours of sewing and darning stockings had been a huge help. Her stitches, while not perfect, were even and well placed. The farmer ended up with a scar but healed well and after that she gradually eased into her craft with greater confidence.
By the time she was fifteen she was doing very well for herself in the Healer Hall. She had learned about sickness, disease, wounds, breaks in bones, child birthing, and more. But what she had yet to learn about was how to treat patients with Thread scores. The turn before the menace had come back. It had devistated the North and the South was barely holding on. They'd had an influx of patients dealing with thread score wounds.
This ended up becoming a priority for her around the time she got a letter from her Father. Her brother had been hit by thread during a fall. He'd lost part of his left foot and his Green was scored deep over her ribs.
The girl was not happy with this news. For all she knew her brothers foot may have been able to be saved. Maybe the healer who had tended to him had been incompetent. Such thoughts actually spurned her to further dedicate herself to her studies. Yet as she did, she almost regretted it. Thread score was nothing to shake a stick at and often the wounds were fatal.
What was left of her childish innocence vanished out the window as she further progressed. She sobered, became calmer as with maturity came grains of wisdom. By sixteen she was more comfortable and at ease with the things she saw on a day to day basis. Though vomit would always send her racing for the door. That was the only thing she seemed to have a problem with when it came to ailing the sick.
It was around this time that she started noticing queer things when it came to the differences between Holders and those born of dragonmen. The main one was that there seemed to be an awful lot of chatter concerning the new colors. This didn't sit well with the Weyrbred girl. Whenever she came across such a conversation she usually gave them a verbal slap in the face, quickly reminding them that without dragonriders they wouldn't be alive. More than once she got in trouble for arguing with her betters, but she was fiercely loyal to Dragonmen and their noble beasts no matter what color they were.
So it really wasn't much of a surprise when shortly after she walked the tables at about eighteen that she put in to transfer to Nyocia Weyr. Her family was there and so were childhood friends. When it was approved she went back home within a seven day. Since then she has settled in comfortably and has been doing her best to help the Weyr where she can.
Pets: N/A
Other: Rawr?
-If a Candidate:
Name Change: N/A
Color Preferences: Queen only Candidate.
Colors NOT wanted: No Greens please.
Password:Needlethorn
