There was absolutely no danger of Javer - J'ver - ever being mistaken for anyone else. Certainly not after Impressing blue Buroth. Because Buroth was apt to tell everyone he met that his rider was J'ver see him right there, over there, no not that one, but the other one! Yes there! ... It would have been tiresome, but J'ver honestly liked the attention. After all, his years of wandering the countryside in search of a place to call his own, a place without judgement or preconceptions of what his wanderings actually meant... That left him with precious little in the way of conversation.

Now, he had Buroth.

And fifteen flitters, more or less, from a variety of nests, that would come and perch on the blue or him, at any given time. Even flitters that didn't call J'ver their master came by, would help clean the blue and tie knots in J'ver's hair.

Even the day he impressed, he had still been getting those looks: he was covered in weapons when he arrived at the Weyr, promising not to use them only made the steward laugh, so he had to leave them in his lockbox in the shared candidate dorms. But now, he could either wear them or have them in a more secure private weyr. That was awesome, and what else was awesome was that since he knew how to use them, when he transferred to Dragonhope, he was almost instantly put on the Pintu Anjin wing.

Hunting was his primary job, then, but he and Buroth enjoyed taking to the air during Threadfall. They were both a bit crazy that way, but in truth he loved the danger. He loved the rush. Even loved the pain when he was threadscored - not that scar on his face, that was an old training injury. Across his shoulder, small enough that he could easily cover it, big enough that it reminded him that even if he was crazy, he should never become stupid.