Post by taxx on May 8, 2013 13:38:02 GMT -5
Name:
Firane
Gender:
Female
Age:
Nineteen (Summer 199th Turn)
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Location:
Dalibor Weyr
Rank:
Dragonrider
Personality:
Hard-working and eager to help, Firane is still in wide-eyed wonder at Weyr life; until recently, anything bigger than the seahold she grew up in was the stuff of fables.
She talks cheerfully and at length about superficial things, but is rather private in what concerns her own feelings and personal goals. The larger-than-life condition of the Weyr, the majesty of the dragons and their riders intimidate Firane and make her feel unsophisticated and uncultured, so she overcompensates in what she knows she is good at and tucks away the rest in a corner of her mind where she does not have to deal with it. As a consequence of her insecurity, among Weyr-folk she can come across as aloof and uncaring, mainly because she does not want to get involved in matters she knows little or nothing about until she can prove her mettle.
To those who skirt that protective wall and see past it the girl who is eager to show her worth, or those with backgrounds similar to hers who have issues fitting in, Firane is actually a good ear and a loyal companion, but rarely, if ever, will she air her own insecurities even with the ones she trusts.
Appearance:
Firane still has to hit a decent growth spurt; women in her family are typically of slow development and she is no exception. Small for her age and on the thin side of slim, she is at an awkward stage of elbows and knees that always seem to be on the wrong places. Her hands are slim but strong, marked with old calluses from physical labor. While she manages fine in short distances, repeated exertion causes Firane to limp, thanks to decreased flexibility on her left knee, a legacy from an old, fist-sized scar on the back of the joint.
She has wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair that frizzes in humid weather. Her ancestry is a mix, visible in the tilted almond-shaped amber eyes that contrast sharply with her olive skin tone. Like her body, her face is sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and triangular chin.
When it comes to clothing, she has always erred on the side of practicality, but even the baggiest, more thread-bare of her clothes have some small touch of embroidery she sews in as a personal touch.
Family:
Father: Fortol, 51 Turns
Mother: Riane, 43 Turns
Brother: Ritol, 24 Turns
Brother: Orrene, 15 Turns
(ages are from Summer 199th Turn)
History:
Firane was born to Riane and Fortol in a fishing family from a small seahold beholden to Tillek. The middle child of three, she did not lack for playmates in her younger years; however, children are a drain on family resources if they do not help: Firane and her two brothers, Ritol and Orrene, were set to work in the house from a young age and later started to contribute with chores in the family's fishing business.
The girl was a quick learner and deft of hands. Sewing and mending fishnets came naturally to her, but she did not shirk from helping her mother with heavy tasks when her father and elder brother were out at sea and often babysat her younger brother and other hold children.
Her first years passed rather uneventfully. They had occasional news of the rest of Pern, from Gathers and the rare traveler. The Western Continent was colonized, but for Firane and her family, things continued as usual, making a living from the sea.
It was on her ninth year, when she was out one morning hunting for crabs among the rocks during the low tide, that she grew careless. A rope running down the beach to a submerged net had gone lax with the slow ebb and flow of the waves and her left leg tangled on the thick cable as she tripped over it. Trying to hitting the rocks as she fell, Firane did not notice the rope grow taut once more. The sudden pull bit into the soft flesh behind her left knee and burned through, leaving her flesh raw and torn.
The fall and her screams of pain caught the attention of nearby hold members, whose group effort managed to free her leg from the tangled rope. The child was rushed to the hold healer. Friction burns were nothing new in a group that dealt constantly with ropes and cables, but they tended to left ugly scarring in severe cases like Firane's, and it took several weeks before she could walk without pain. As the healer predicted, the wound scarred and the new skin was thick and corded, with heavily reduced less flexibility.
Growing helped a little. The scarred skin grew with her, but little could be done about the damaged muscle beneath it. The frequent exercise from daily chores may have saved part of her mobility; however, her left leg would always be weaker than the right one and Firane's running days were over.
She pulled through. The healer's care had made Firane aware of her own longing for fixing others. She knew basic first aid, but that would never have been able to help in her case and she wanted to help others in turn. In her spare time, she went back to the healer's cot; she had no predisposition for formal training in the Hall, yet there were skills she could hone without an apprentice rank, skills that would help her family and friends. Her steady, able hands were able to make a difference and so she put them to work.
Two more years went by. Ritol moved out to start his own family. Lacking the help of his eldest, Fortol chose to move his family across the ocean and hope for an easier lifestyle in the Western Continent, at Crescent Hold; a new Weyr, he reasoned, would be eager to prove they could protect their people through the upcoming Pass.
Crescent Hold marked a new beginning for Firane. With two major Halls in the area and a growing Weyr, the isolation days were a thing of the past and she soaked up knowledge and information like an eager sponge. When she became assistant to an aging midwife, she thought she had found her life's calling.
Yet the world had other plans for her. When Daidoroth flew Kalith, Firane was Search to stand for Impression. She went to Dalibor and in due time wore the white in the Hatching Sands. As copper Kalith's and gray Noyth's clutches hatched and a total of twenty-four surviving dragonets Impressed, she was one of those left behind as many of her fellow Candidates became weyrlings.
Disappointment hit her. Still, she was never one for giving up. More clutches would come, and if not that, a life at the new Weyr was still better than what she had ever dreamed of, chores and all. She remained in Dalibor Weyr, and good thing that she did, for her healing skills would came into use all too soon when training weyrlings and their dragons became assassination targets.
Firane
Gender:
Female
Age:
Nineteen (Summer 199th Turn)
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Location:
Dalibor Weyr
Rank:
Dragonrider
Personality:
Hard-working and eager to help, Firane is still in wide-eyed wonder at Weyr life; until recently, anything bigger than the seahold she grew up in was the stuff of fables.
She talks cheerfully and at length about superficial things, but is rather private in what concerns her own feelings and personal goals. The larger-than-life condition of the Weyr, the majesty of the dragons and their riders intimidate Firane and make her feel unsophisticated and uncultured, so she overcompensates in what she knows she is good at and tucks away the rest in a corner of her mind where she does not have to deal with it. As a consequence of her insecurity, among Weyr-folk she can come across as aloof and uncaring, mainly because she does not want to get involved in matters she knows little or nothing about until she can prove her mettle.
To those who skirt that protective wall and see past it the girl who is eager to show her worth, or those with backgrounds similar to hers who have issues fitting in, Firane is actually a good ear and a loyal companion, but rarely, if ever, will she air her own insecurities even with the ones she trusts.
Appearance:
Firane still has to hit a decent growth spurt; women in her family are typically of slow development and she is no exception. Small for her age and on the thin side of slim, she is at an awkward stage of elbows and knees that always seem to be on the wrong places. Her hands are slim but strong, marked with old calluses from physical labor. While she manages fine in short distances, repeated exertion causes Firane to limp, thanks to decreased flexibility on her left knee, a legacy from an old, fist-sized scar on the back of the joint.
She has wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair that frizzes in humid weather. Her ancestry is a mix, visible in the tilted almond-shaped amber eyes that contrast sharply with her olive skin tone. Like her body, her face is sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and triangular chin.
When it comes to clothing, she has always erred on the side of practicality, but even the baggiest, more thread-bare of her clothes have some small touch of embroidery she sews in as a personal touch.
Family:
Father: Fortol, 51 Turns
Mother: Riane, 43 Turns
Brother: Ritol, 24 Turns
Brother: Orrene, 15 Turns
(ages are from Summer 199th Turn)
History:
Firane was born to Riane and Fortol in a fishing family from a small seahold beholden to Tillek. The middle child of three, she did not lack for playmates in her younger years; however, children are a drain on family resources if they do not help: Firane and her two brothers, Ritol and Orrene, were set to work in the house from a young age and later started to contribute with chores in the family's fishing business.
The girl was a quick learner and deft of hands. Sewing and mending fishnets came naturally to her, but she did not shirk from helping her mother with heavy tasks when her father and elder brother were out at sea and often babysat her younger brother and other hold children.
Her first years passed rather uneventfully. They had occasional news of the rest of Pern, from Gathers and the rare traveler. The Western Continent was colonized, but for Firane and her family, things continued as usual, making a living from the sea.
It was on her ninth year, when she was out one morning hunting for crabs among the rocks during the low tide, that she grew careless. A rope running down the beach to a submerged net had gone lax with the slow ebb and flow of the waves and her left leg tangled on the thick cable as she tripped over it. Trying to hitting the rocks as she fell, Firane did not notice the rope grow taut once more. The sudden pull bit into the soft flesh behind her left knee and burned through, leaving her flesh raw and torn.
The fall and her screams of pain caught the attention of nearby hold members, whose group effort managed to free her leg from the tangled rope. The child was rushed to the hold healer. Friction burns were nothing new in a group that dealt constantly with ropes and cables, but they tended to left ugly scarring in severe cases like Firane's, and it took several weeks before she could walk without pain. As the healer predicted, the wound scarred and the new skin was thick and corded, with heavily reduced less flexibility.
Growing helped a little. The scarred skin grew with her, but little could be done about the damaged muscle beneath it. The frequent exercise from daily chores may have saved part of her mobility; however, her left leg would always be weaker than the right one and Firane's running days were over.
She pulled through. The healer's care had made Firane aware of her own longing for fixing others. She knew basic first aid, but that would never have been able to help in her case and she wanted to help others in turn. In her spare time, she went back to the healer's cot; she had no predisposition for formal training in the Hall, yet there were skills she could hone without an apprentice rank, skills that would help her family and friends. Her steady, able hands were able to make a difference and so she put them to work.
Two more years went by. Ritol moved out to start his own family. Lacking the help of his eldest, Fortol chose to move his family across the ocean and hope for an easier lifestyle in the Western Continent, at Crescent Hold; a new Weyr, he reasoned, would be eager to prove they could protect their people through the upcoming Pass.
Crescent Hold marked a new beginning for Firane. With two major Halls in the area and a growing Weyr, the isolation days were a thing of the past and she soaked up knowledge and information like an eager sponge. When she became assistant to an aging midwife, she thought she had found her life's calling.
Yet the world had other plans for her. When Daidoroth flew Kalith, Firane was Search to stand for Impression. She went to Dalibor and in due time wore the white in the Hatching Sands. As copper Kalith's and gray Noyth's clutches hatched and a total of twenty-four surviving dragonets Impressed, she was one of those left behind as many of her fellow Candidates became weyrlings.
Disappointment hit her. Still, she was never one for giving up. More clutches would come, and if not that, a life at the new Weyr was still better than what she had ever dreamed of, chores and all. She remained in Dalibor Weyr, and good thing that she did, for her healing skills would came into use all too soon when training weyrlings and their dragons became assassination targets.