Kyrola is a young woman from Ista Hold. Her mother, Finola, was one of those women who lived her whole life at the Hold, for whom a trip to Ista Weyr for a hatching was considered a high holiday. Kyrola was always a small child. While many of her age-mates were more active, she was a fairly placid child. She preferred steadier pursuits, such as playing in the kitchen, and her fingers were deft enough to give her a fair talent at sewing. She was one of those children who actually listened to the Hold Harpers during lessons. She couldn't be accused of being precocious, or it may simply be that she didn't speak up and reveal her actual intelligence to anyone paying attention.

When she was two, she revealed her white imp to her mother. In other words, she went to play in the flour and tracked it all over the kitchens and half the Hold. Her mother wasn't too amused about it, and Kyrola was given a very important lesson about the appropriate use of foodstuffs. Ever since then, she listened to the aunties and the cooks until she was old enough to know better. She became one of those dutiful children, the ones which always listened to their elders and did what they were told. This doesn't mean that she didn't have fun as a child. She just had to be more creative in what sort of fun she had.

When she was 5, a new man entered her mom's life. He was nice, if a bit old, a harper visiting the nearby secondary Harper Hall there in Ista. He was really sad, but the child noticed that he really did care for her mom. Eventually, he went away. Kyrola didn't quite understand how close he had been to her mother, but 9 months later, she suddenly had a brother, named Finovar. Finovar was also taught how to behave, but unlike Kyrola, he wanted to know everything about his father. Kyrola knew that their mother rarely mentioned /her/ father, and whenever she did, it was either in one of those tones that indicated he was either Gone (as in dead), or Not Worth Talking About. So, she grew up without a steady father figure. Certainly, there were other men at the Hold who helped with fostering the children, but having a string of 'uncles' isn't the same thing as having a father. This was only something she noticed when she saw the other kids in the Hold return to their families' quarters, and she only had her mother to return with. Finovar had a harder time dealing with it than she did, because Kyrola was essentially not too prone to fits and outbursts of emotion. Also, being a girl, and one who liked the traditional female pursuits, it really didn't impact as greatly upon her as it did upon her half-brother.

As she got older, the Hold's harper approached Finola regarding the possibility of Kyrola becoming an apprentice. Of course, that was Fin's dream, so it caused some strain between the children, but not enough that they'd stop playing together. Eventually, Kyrola said to her mom that she didn't really like harpering as much as Finovar did. Also, she liked sewing best, and she loved helping her mom with embroidery. So, while her brother did all the daydreaming about harpering, Kyrola focused her interests into helping out around the Hold, listening to the aunties chattering while they did the laundry, or cooked dinner, or worked on another tapestry. Then her mother figured maybe she could be a weaver. Kyrola did show some talent, even at the tender age of nine and a half, for embroidery, sewing, and other weaving skills. The Hold's weavers let her hang out with them, and she picked up a little bit, but she really wasn't sure if that's what she wanted to do. She liked playing with leathers, but when she was given a quick show of what the tanners actually did (ewww, animal brains!), she decided to stick with the non-craft aspect of sewing, making clothes, etc. At the time, she really didn't want to leave home. Instead of apprenticing at age 12 or 13 like many of her peers, she remained at the Hold and grew up, fending off the boys who thought she was cute. She also found a new love during that time, sitting outside in the dark watching the stars. If she could find a nice place to sit for a little while, she'd just sort of sing to herself, snatches of the old ballads, definitively not harper quality, but at least reasonably on-key, and just enjoy the night.

Another aspect of this young woman is that she's short. That of course led to all the short jokes her peers and the older kids used to inflict upon her. While another person may have taken them personally and let it affect them adversely, Kyrola chose to see the lighter side. When the headwoman was looking for 'volunteers', her height was enough to keep her from being picked. She also started to say 'shorter but cuter' whenever anyone picked on her. So, while most boys her age are well taller than she is, she doesn't care. She's secure in who she is, and that she won't get much taller.

In recent history, of course Kyrola started that great stomping forward that is puberty. She turned into a pretty young woman, but she does appear younger than her turns, due to her height and her dainty features. She doesn't get the adult respect that sometimes she thinks she should have, but she's one of those kids who is reasonably even-tempered, so she doesn't let it bother her too much. She prefers to dazzle someone with her dexterity rather than baffle them with some herdbeast dung about how she's older than she looks. Hysterics and hissyfits are for others. She's watching her mother start to throw boys at her, with an eye to having the girl marry and settle down and have a normal family, unlike the one she herself had. Kyrola sometimes gets frustrated by her mother's aspirations and gentle machinations for her, but love conquers all for them, so she easily forgives Finola her dreams for her kids.

Kyrola and Finovar had to deal with the loss of their mother recently. Finola had contracted one of those wasting diseases. Finovar went with their mother to Healer Hall to see if anything could be done, but unfortunately, there was not. Finovar wasn't old enough to strike out on his own, being 10, and Kyrola bade him farewell. Finola's dying wish was that Finovar meet his father, Harper Master Varoni, and go live with him. This left Kyrola with a bit of a void in her life. She lost not only her mother but her half-brother. While she considered Fin a hyperactive pest sometimes, she dearly loved him. Being of an age to become an adult in her own right, Kyrola decided to go somewhere that wasn't Ista Hold. Speaking to the Ista Hold headwoman, she requested to go somewhere where her skills could be used, so she wouldn't have to live in the small family quarters that now seemed too large, too empty, too dead. The headwoman's contacts at the Starcraft Hall indicated a need for a new pair of hands, a jane of all trades who could potentially become one of the assistants to the headwoman there. Thus, given a legitimate errand of querying the status of a farviewer on commission for one of the steward's staff, she was given a dragonride of all things to the crafthall in Igen. It being her first (and only) dragonride, she chose to savor the moment, remembering to thank both green and her rider for the trip. She quickly met Craftseconds Triene and Beldaviar, who dealt with the commission and then accepted the girl's reference note from Ista Hold. Thus, Kyrola now lives in the desert, counting herself lucky that she was sent to the Starcraft Hall, because she has always felt an affinity for the celestial wonders of the night sky.

Kyrola's permanent description: Tiny may be the first word to come to mind when looking at this girl. She is certainly shorter than average, each feature done up in smaller variations of the norm. Her body is slender, like a whip or willow reed, with small hips and shoulders. Her face is not exactly heart-shaped, but there is a certain sort of thinness, with her high-set cheekbones and pointed chin. Her hair is a glossy shade of brown or red, depending on the light and how much sun she's had, the strands mingling in highlights and shadows, darting around in curls and gentle waves as well. Her eyes are either green or brown, one of those shades that is hard to pin down, even by close observers. Her hands are delicate, suited for fine work, and there are no calluses on them. Her lips are pale in color, just like her creamy skin, a few freckles marring the skin around her nose.

Kyrola's candidate description: It may seem odd to see such a small girl wearing adult clothes. A long skirt covers her legs demurely, the fabric a pretty shade of light russet brown. Bright red thread has traced a rocky abstract border to the hem, and her wide brown belt, more decorative than functional, sports the same sort of border, the thread almost like little bits of lava peeking up out of brown earth. A dusty pair of matching brown boots keeps her feet safe. Her blouse is of white linen, clean, one of those off-both-shoulders kinds that helps keep the wearer cool in the warm summer days. The sleeves of the blouse are poufy, leaving her tanned arms bare to more sun. She has an Ista Weyr candidate's knot affixed to her blouse, and there is a hand-made leather thong around her throat, a bit of pretty but misshapen blue glass tied up in it, dangling like a pendant over her small breasts.

The skanky bird costume/dress: Light and airy, this young woman's attire is easily described as such. Half costume and half outlandish dress, her attire somehow manages not only to show off far more than normal for this girl, but it also covers up anything that needs it for modesty's sake. The vast majority of the color on the outfit is a deep blue, almost an indigo shade, accented by light bits of silvery thread here and there. At first glance, the outfit can be confused as an avian's costume, with a deep blue mask over her features, her greeny-blue eyes peering forth, a silver-painted beak covering her nose and mouth, 'feathers' made of cloth and sewn up and around shaped sticks to provide volume. Her arms have been covered with similar blue cloth, with long sticks draped in the cloth and tied together so that her hands can manipulate the 'wings'. Her body, sweet Faranth, no one's ever seen this much skin from this young woman ever before. Her neck and shoulders are bare, as usual, but the deep cut of the outfit in the middle might make a seacrafter or bronzerider blush. Split down the middle, yet still tastefully tied in all the strategic places to prevent a real show, the blue almost-corset runs from boobs to bellybutton. Underneath, circling her waist, is a long train, barely hanging onto her slim hips. The train, with silver thread outlining more 'feathers', runs behind her for about a good few feet. Of course nothing below her hips is visible, but her /legs/ are, a long and foot-wide band of cloth making something of a not-quite-floorlength loin-cloth between them... but cut thin enough to allow a full view of her legs.

Kyrola in drag for the auction!: She's wearing something unusual for her. A pair of beat up brown trous covers her legs, safely tucked into boots which keen eyes would detect were made by Pulyn. She actually has a thin belt on, holding the men's trousers on her slim hips. Her tiny form is almost comical in her attire, and a voluminous blue shirt, probably 'borrowed' from some harper or other, covers her torso. The sleeves of the blue shirt drape almost to her knees, but she's pointedly rolled them up anyway. The neck of the shirt isn't tied up, which is a bad thing, for the shirt wasn't made for a woman, much less a tiny woman, so she's showing off a shoulder here, but nothing that smacks of /too/ much show. Her favorite (and only) necklace, consisting of a leather thong and a bit of broken marble-like glass, also in deep blue, is her only bit of jewelry.

Kyrola's simple candidate robe: She's wearing a close-fitted shapeless robe, simply two bits of cloth sewn together, with holes for her head, legs, and arms. She is bare-footed, and her hair is tied back with a simple strip of white cloth.

Kyrola's weyrling uniform: She's still wearing clothes that seem a little bit too big on her small frame, as if this was the smallest size they could find. A pair of dark brown trousers keep her legs safe from harm, and someone has stitched a little bit of bright red and orange thread along the outer seam in a pattern of lava and rocks. Her feet are protected by a pair of boots made in Pulyn... err U'lyn's distinctive style. A black belt holds the pants up around her waist. Her shirt is of a deep orange color. The orange sort of fades in some folds of the sturdy cloth into a brown, but the highlights make other bits seem brighter, almost golden sunset orange. Brown thread matching her pants is detailed on both shoulder-strips and cuffs, in the same lava and rocks pattern. A simple knot is on this young woman's shoulder, the twine of orange and black for Ista Weyr, with a bright strand of gold for her lifemate's color.

Autumn's Fading Leaves Egg
Dappled sunlight streaks across the fissures and crevices of this egg, turning simple earthen tones into burnished hues of mahogany and saffron. Crisp outlines of rough ochre give way to glossy leaves of cream, turned near white in the glare of certain lights. Dark shadows creep under the sun-scorched land, curling deep ebony fingers into the shell. Uneven edgings of tan valiantly battle the murky inroads as they climb back over the far curve of the shell. Ochre dust seems to be the outcome of this war, as dry as the Keroon plains in Autumn.

Sunset-Kissed Brown Hatchling - Named Bubble at Chaia's suggestion.
This large firelizard seems like a lump of clay or mountainside. A wide body that lends itself to a pudgy or rocky image, he seems generally content to eat and sleep. His hide is a lovely shade of brown with hints of fiery golds and reds and even a faint hint of purple on the unlit side. A sort of iridescence pervades his hide, such that whichever side is more lit, that glows with the fiery shades, while the shadowy shades stick to the actual shadows of whatever light is available. His chest is big, as are his wings, and he looks swift in flight, if not very agile.

Electric Ribbon Egg
The shell of this large egg would be an unbroken expanse of midnight, were it not for the rampant streaks of bright white flashing across its diagonal axis. The darkness is complete: a deep blue mingling with royal purple to provide that hue seldom seen by anyone save those on dawn sweeps or up with the bakers. This rich shade is almost indistinguishable from the ebony sands, hiding the egg's true size. And yet, in brilliant defiance, the ozone cracking streaks zigzag an uneven course from the top right of the bottom left hand curves. These ribbons of energy echo in paler shades, as though the fury of a monsoon were bearing down upon the sands, contained in the leathery shell.

Pitiful Golden-Bronze Hatchling -- Named Sparkle at Chaia's suggestion.
Just as this tiny hatchling tumbles into the world, he lets out a pitiful cry with his thoughts and feelings instantly aware to others. His dark, glistening hide dries in the air, showing a purely golden-bronze hide that shimmers in the light. His color seems to look like what would happen to a large drop of golden-bronze paint when it falls and slides over something rounded and smooth; the patterns on the hide have some darker some lighter 'drips' sliding every which way across his back. He wings only droop slightly and look so transparent that they are easily seen though. What is striking is when he moves, he almost seems to wave with his dark hide on top giving a rippling effect toward his lighter belly. His eyes whirl a deep red, showing his hunger as he searches for that one piece of food that would sedate his hunger.

Inimitable Refinement Egg
Rich veins of crimson curl and twine about this narrow egg, beginning hesitatingly at one end before slowly spreading out, almost hiding the smattering of darker freckles that mar the sun-bronzed tint of the curving shell where two symmetrical spots of kelly green vividly stain egg's surface. Faint shades of white and khaki reveal themselves beneath the more vibrant tendrils of roseate hue, encasing the slim orb with casual comfort: The egg is perfection personified, all graceful lines and neatly manicured superstrata.

Glowing Emerald Green Hatchling -- Later named Stitch, again suggested by Chaia.
The color of glowing emeralds is captured in her hide, overlaid by soft hints of the verdant shades of mist-swathed grass in the morning. Her wingsails and tail-tip darken to clover, while along her neck, streaks of white-gold fall upon her like tendrils of sunlight that join with the winds to caress a lush meadow of truly incomparable green. Beautiful? Oh, yes. Stunning? Don't you doubt it! For she is as lithe and fair as something out of your most treasured dreams, with a voice capable of breaking hearts--as her first lilting warble of greeting proves. She has charisma to spare, and her heart is as light as a faerie's footstep as she regards those around her with carefully presented consideration.

Fool's Gold Egg: Nestled along the ground lengthwise lies the oblong egg. Sand is built up around the base to keep it from rolling. The shell almost seems to reflect light off on some areas, but when looking closer, one can make out dark crevices. From the mysterious and dark depths, lighter golden tones sometimes appear in flecks on the curve of the egg, revealing themselves like the veins of some golden precious metal. (desced by S'ris and Tamina)

Hatchling name: Silkspun Harvest Moon Dragonet

Hatchling desc: Soft, gentle and simple is the color of autumn evening. That of gold not quite yet shining, but perfect even still. No sun or sunset prevails before it, flaunting its beauty as if all should stand in awe. A simple, silent and all more powerful shape arises. Full of grace and slipping through the darkness. Shadows dance within craters, but mar not the beautiful surface.

Thus the orange-gold and quiet queen makes herself known. She is so alike Timor and Belior's unusual and serene instance in Autumn both in hide and spirit. Head held high, yet her steps are thought out and careful. Despite her size, she is as quiet as a falling leaf. A trail of darkened gold flows along her wingspars and gives added belief to her lunar similarity. Spread out at random points crater like marks flow across her body, large and small, but there is still that one true, soft and singular color. A gold that is a reflection, but no second, to that whose light it borrows. There have been some before who hold Rukbat's glory in their hide, but she is content and all the more lovely for her softer shade. Let there be no mistake, she is a queen, she is strong and hers will be a long and adventurous life. (desced by Fluria)

Zaith's adult desc: Soft, gentle and simple is the color of autumn evening. That of gold not quite yet shining, but perfect even still. No sun or sunset prevails before it, flaunting its beauty as if all should stand in awe. A simple, silent and all more powerful shape arises. Full of grace and slipping through the darkness. Shadows dance within craters, but mar not the beautiful surface.

Thus the orange-gold and quiet queen makes herself known. She is so alike that unusual and serene instance of Autumn both in hide and spirit. Head held high, yet her steps are thought out and careful. Despite her size, she is as quiet as a falling leaf. A trail of darkened gold flows along her wingspars and gives added belief to her lunar similarity. Spread out at random points crater like marks flow across her body, large and small, but there is still that one true, soft and singular color. A gold that is a reflection, but no second, to that whose light it borrows. There have been some before who hold Rukbat's glory in their hide, but she is content and all the more lovely for her softer shade. Let there be no mistake, she is a queen, she is strong and hers will be a long and adventurous life. (desced by Fluria)

Zaith's General Temper: From the very first thought that trickles into your thoughts you can feel that despite her quiet manner, she is quite strong. Not just physically, but her sense of being can be overwhelming to you as well as those around her. Even if she is saying nothing her mind constantly seems to project every little feeling she holds inside. From the momentary irritation of an itch to the ire provoked by a disrespectful dragon pair. In all of this there is a sharp-edge observation. She is constantly watching and evaluating everything that goes on around her. She watches you. She watches her couch. She watches the weyr and somehow manages to maintain the utmost detail in everything. In this her memory is superb and probably uncontested by any other dragon. It lasts longer and if necessary she will remind herself with your own memories of details. And detail seems to be the one thing she will harp upon. That and perfection of details. ** Kyrola, I don't mean to be such a pain. But that spot on my wing is more oiled and shinier than the rest of me...you're going to have to oil me so all of my hide is the same. ** In all things, even if she is picky, there is that gentle and sweet way of putting it. She doesn't mean to be bitchy or selfish, but everything has a way it should be. This isn't to say she isn't changeable. Indeed if she thinks it would be better another way she will leap to announce it, even at the risk of angering other. ** NO. That isn't how it should be. Tuoth should make Yanaleth's rider wear the dress. He would look better in it. **

Zaith's Weyrling temper: As you and her grow and discover one another there will be trying times. For while a pure sweetheart, not knowing the concept of greed or selfishness, her actions to others will prove otherwise. ** But I shouldn't have to wait to go between! I know every detail about my home already. ** And it won't be just between, though she will excel at this like no other, any form of teaching will have some throw-back, usually with her thinking she should move ahead quicker than the others. Simply because she -knows- all there is. Or at least thinks she does. Your Zaith is still young and still growing. She doesn't know everything about Pern, yet, and you will have to temper her enthusiasm and apparent know-it-all attitude with patience.

Zaith's Fall temper: Because she is a queen you and Zaith will fly within the lowest wings. You with a flame-thrower and her with agile speed and an amazing ferocity. ** This *thread* will NOT ruin MY home! ** And again her detail orientated self and that great ability to observe all that goes around her will be handy. While Queen's rarely get scored, it is highly likely you will never have to worry about this. In fact it won't be so much -you- leading where she goes, but her. And the smallish size of her body will lead to some attempted stunts that may leave you, on occasion, with your heart in your throat. Yet she won't do it unless she understands every little twist and curve of the maneuver she wants to pull off. Which means she -will- be safe about her actions. ** You don't need to worry, Kyrola. I know just what I'm doing. **

Zaith's Flight temper: Your lifemate is not above selfishness. She just doesn't understand it and will deny having anything to do with it. She does, after all, mean the best for Ista in all of her actions. You will notice, however, a definitive increase in `selfish' behavior when she starts to glow. Her mannerism about perfection will become even more strong and she will speak about them quite a bit more. ** No, I don't like how that wing is practicing. They are blocking the sun in the garden and that just won't due **. And a lot of it will actually focus not on her, but on the males who will fawn over her. They must be pristine. Perfect. Solid. ** Oh yuck! Semeth needs to be oiled again! Just -look- at that spottiness. All those dull spots. ** When in fact, to your eye, Semeth may be perfectly oiled all over. When she finally -does- rise after a horribly long period of waiting, something she likely inherited from her dam, she will be as furious in the sky as on the ground. In fact you may even note that days before she will have been watching closely most every male as they practice their drills and she, in turn, will encourage you to go into the skies often to do the same. When she rises from blooding hers will be a fast paced, long and challenging flight for everyone. She will push and even exceed her limits to find the -perfect- mate. The one who can match her stunt for stunt. Trick for trick. Whose hide, despite the blood spattering it, still manages to make it look like it belongs.

Credits for Zaith's temper: The temper is based off a combination of Tuoth and Qirith's personalities. On one side the bronze who has a bad sense of fashion, but a good eye for the details of things. And on the other there is Qirith, the maternal, kind and gentle Queen who is quite fierce about keeping her home well kept. These things have been mixed into a new and different temper by Fluria.

Zaith will eventually grow to a length of 38 meters, small for a queen.

What Kyrola saw when she impressed: The sound of thunder roars in your ears, a great, raging clash that you suddenly realize is not the storm outside. A cacophony of feeling and energetic joy, it lives without you, it lives within you. For a long, confusing moment, amid the chaos of your own emotions, you are unable to discern the source of that sound, that swelling of feeling, and then things resolve--a new set of emotions and desires meld with yours, never to wholly distinct again, and a pair of slowly swirling faceted violet eyes meet yours. Your vision expands to include not just the detail of each facet, but each piece of dark molten gold that is dotted amidst an egg-wet golden hide.

Though at first only a whisper, the Silkspun Harvest Moon Gold Dragonet's mental touch quickly strengthens. In a voice dearer to you than your own, ** I am Zaith, Kyrola, and I am very *hungry*! **