Weyrling Shea
Title Jr. Weyrling
Gender Female
Age 17
Dragon blue Cervilaevarth
Wing Weyrling


Once waist-length hair of light red has been cut, now, to settle styled in fingerwaves dusting merely an inch or so down Shea's neck. Her form is otherwise unaltered by Impression: slender and tall and just a little curvy. She stands 5'10, a far bit more than one might expect of a female from her lineage or perhaps from a female at all. Athlete's legs are well-used, strong and shapely; her knees hyperextend just slightly, lumbar curve accentuated. Her skin is fair but unfreckled — as is rare for one with her coloring, when Shea hits the sun, she tans. Her eyes are wide, the slightest bit large for her face and colored pale slate-grey; the feature of hers most likely to be referred to as 'striking.' Her nose (small, rounded and unassuming) and cheekbones (high and angular) play simple complement to her otherwise uncommon features.


Shea's blouse fits trimly about her, bold High Reaches blue set off by black buttons down her front. No pockets mar the lines of this blouse, which is good when one considers how many messes might otherwise slither into one. Crisp cuffs turn up at her elbows, as much a necessary finishing touch as the wide folded-down collar. The hem of her blouse drifts down over tight black trousers made of heavy-duty fabric, tucked neatly in turn into her fine black boots. All in all, her uniform is both sturdy and pleasant to look at, while also being capable of surviving the worst trials of weyrlinghood and all its messes.


< None set. >

Cervilaevarth Click for inspiration

Luminous with the subtle glow of gray-washing dawn, he rises up a measured study of sophisticated enlightenment. From the fell blue-violet coal of broad dark paws and sable glints of gunmetal talons, gray-blue of nighttime fog ascends the short, straight conformity of balanced legs. Lighter and lighter, shadow-slips lose their grip in gossamer fingers to descending skeins of shoulder's silvered frost; woven tendrils of enfolding iron claim haunch and hip to trail long tail, gradually unraveling into darkened tip. From this dim swim of lower extremities rises the fine faded blue of encroaching day: above the promise of genteel chest and long-body leanness, washed-out icy blue gathering delicate throatwork with pale cool pearl until here, holding the light: a face of near white, the aristocratic delicacy of bone structure powdered ashen blue, silver-slivered in sharp eye ridges and sweeping curl of crowning 'knobs. Swept wide about him, great scoops of snowy wings, waxy mother of pearl beneath snowmelt, are held in by fine wingbones of most delicate articulation.


Off-Camera History

Technically, as with most people, if not perhaps all people, Yalishean's history begins long before her birth. Yalishean's history begins with a Journeyman Herder named Esaeli who incidentally got pregnant when she was fourteen, long before she was a journeyman or even much of a Herder. It begins with a bluerider named S'ke who moved to Fort Weyr once he'd been an Assistant Weyrlingmaster at Ista too long, and the Weyrlingmaster of Fort needed some help.

S'ke didn't fall in love with Esaeli, at first; S'ke fell in love with Esaeli's young son, Sirehan. He bonded with the boy in the bowl, and Sirihan was the one who introduced the exciting new bluerider to his mother. Then it was that S'ke and Esaeli fell in love. S'ke had never been one for love or sex; he kept his dragon grounded during flights, naturally disinterested in every angle. (Perhaps it was his prodigious nature, the same one tied up in Impressing at 12 and becoming an AWLM at 14, that taught him women were better ignored.) All of that was over, though, with her. Esaeli and Sirehan moved in to S'ke's weyr, and from there blossomed a nice little family.

Sirehan, a daughter, two sons, and finally last child, last daughter, Yalishean. Along with her siblings, she grew up between her parents' weyr and the brat caves in no small level of comfort. An Interval baby who had never seen much in the way of hardships, Yalishean was a little bit spoiled. Which merely led to her utter fascination with hardships. She got to hear stories about Thread, and would always beg for more. The idea of having such a risk in living captivated her from an early age, and that is probably where Yalishean developed such a love for dares. While she had safety all around her, she became convinced that safety was boring — and that safety was the reason for dispute. Holds were never "cranky" about "tithes or anything," she was sure, when Thread was in the air. S'ke, weyrbred through and through, confirmed this, much to holdbred Esaeli's distaste.

Yalishean also grew into quite the little athlete. Her father would go on dawn sweeps with his dragon; Yalishean, waking early as well, would go on dawn runs. By herself. And ss she grew, Yalishean became progressively more difficult and opinionated. She developed demands. Wanting to live on her own, at fourteen, was granted by way of a private alcove in the resident dorms.

She wanted a more exciting job than being a typical everyday weyr resident and doing chores and taking care of her mother's canines. This was harder; she'd been taught to ride and care for runnerbeasts, too, but she didn't want to be a stablehand. Someone finally thought of the perfect combination of her running tendencies and her talent for riding, and so at fifteen Yalishean was promoted to become a messenger of Fort Weyr. Getting to go out on message runs satisfied Yalishean's growing wanderlust for the time being.

When she was nearly sixteen, Yalishean was asked to stand for one of Fort's clutches; one of the last candidates selected. The excitable fifteen-turn-old took to this possibility with great delight – part of her always dreamed of being a Weyrlingmaster like her father one day. And he had been an assistant one by fourteen! She had a lot to catch up to. The eggs hatched a mere three sevendays after Yalishean received her candidate's knot, and she was left standing. A few people teased at her that her constant griping about how much she hated the day in the life of a candidate was why, and that not Impressing was what she got; Yalishean decided from then on to attempt a more positive attitude. This lasted for — well, a few days. While she is generally a friendly, open and cheerful person, having a positive attitude about latrine cleaning was just not in the cards for Yalishean.

But it was Yalishean's seventeenth turnday that brought the real excitement. After all, being a candidate had been a giant letdown and it was full of busy work and nothing exciting, mostly with people she already knew. Turning seventeen brought her a racing runner, Spots, as a gift. A mare of her very own, purchased from excellent Herder stock by her mother. The two of them bonded almost instantly, and there was almost instant teasing about how Yalishean and Spots would run off and become race winners.

Instead, the wanderlust hit her harder.

Surprising her family, Yalishean told them she was going off to High Reaches, where her father had grown up, and where a large proportion of his family still was. By herself. On runnerback. The entire way.

Despite the fact everyone looked at her like she was nuts, they let her go. At least her uncle T'ii was still there; there'd be someone for her to connect with.

On-Camera History

Eventually? Yalishean and Spots even got to High Reaches. They'd sent a letter ahead, and — possibly with T'ii's influence, possibly not — human was given a messenger's knot and a bunk in the barracks, mare a nice warm, clean stall. It figured, though, that within days of their arrival, High Reaches declared itself in a state of famine. Food was rationed. Yalishean, ever the droll cynic, wrote her family to say she wasn't actually surprised.

Aevryscienth rose the night that Sirehan, now Si'han, and his brown dragon came to visit Yalishean. (Again: not actually surprised, Yalishean stated.) Having never liked the lack of control that goldflights provided a Weyr, Yalishean had been planning to try to leave — instead, Si'han's Falavoth chased, Yalishean never found him, and ended up going home with losing bronzerider S'zin. Her first and so far only 'Reaches sexual partner, Yalishean found nothing to complain about. Now they're friends, but she hasn't told anybody about her liason with the self-identified fail-bronzer.

The clutching began the very day that Yalishean first met new Weyrlingmaster R'yst, a man she found herself instantly liking, and the end result of Aevryscienth and Ysvarth's latest clutch was a bold, bright and beautiful, literally disastrous twenty-six eggs.

It was time to Search everyone, apparently — including Yalishean. The second Candidate chosen, after the very first was claimed by junior weyrwoman Lendai attempting to prove golds could Search. (Apparently they can: Rysta was there when Yalishean moved in.) Another meeting with R'yst in the breakfast line, along with a supervisory Dredos who turned out to actually like Yalishean resulted in a challenge: she had to tell R'yst the meaning behind the white knot of a candidate.

Which meant she had to wear one.

And enjoy it this time.

So enjoy it she tried. Making friends with everyone possible in her candidate class, keeping the cynic attitude down, putting up with encounters with crazy demented knot-stealing firelizards, tolerating chores marginally better than before, and making it generally last a lot longer than her first go-around. Being the second candidate was a far cry from being the last. Candidacy went by slowly, over months – but in the end, mid-autumn, the eggs cracked and young Yalishean was transformed, the third to Impress, into blue Cervilaevarth's very own Shea.

The fun was just beginning.


gold Arabesque

bronze Cloche

Liquid amber-bronze spills from headknobs knocked charmingly akimbo, over thickset neck and down beefy tail; it pools over the wide-reaching span of his wings, slicks broad shoulders and muscular haunches. His face — his entire aspect, really — is plain rather than handsome, unassuming and genial and lacking in mystery.

green Ballabile

Pale green pours over her strong, large form; the darker jade of her head transforming into a creamy layer that spills over her neck and wings, and turns into an again slightly darker green around her talons. Minty wings' membrane is pale, pale green, a transluscent addition to her coloring. Her headknobs and muzzle are dotted with darkish red-tinged spots and twist and turn, almost feline in nature.

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