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Character Name: Ashmere

Age: Seventeen Turns

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Craft/Rank: Harper/Apprentice/Candidate(with luck)

History: When had it all really started, since she was a small lass Ashmere was blessed with the most sweet and superb of soprano treble, by shells the highest most clear voice one could hear in all of Pern; it was that gift that allowed the girl to be considered for the Harpers Hall at a tender age of eleven turns. Yet, it was her talent for Composition and Musical Theory that sealed her fate for Harper Blues. For Ashmere, that was the best she could have ever of hoped for, she had yearned and dreamt for as long as she could remember to be an apprentice of the Harper craft. Her mother and father were both of lower crafts, a baker and a farmer; respectable professions indeed but nothing like that of the craft she wished to belong in.

In the earlier turns of her life Ashmere was always skirting around her mother’s feet, much to her father’s disapproval, helping in the kitchens were she could; stoking hearth fires, and brewing Klah being her two favourite chores to aid with, however as she grew older her father known as Yvermur dragged his frail and sickly daughter from the dim glow of the kitchens outside to the field to ’put muscle’ on her bones, the man that helped bring her into Pern was convinced his daughter was too dainty a flower and far too much a crybaby; he would be the one to wean her from her mother’s teat.

Only a single turn passed before the chores of being a farmhand took a grave toll on the young Ashmere; it seemed that the hard labour had weakened her which lead to the accident with a misplaced swing with a large hand-sickle and fainting; the end result leaving a forever scar on her perfect angelic face. It seemed for the longest of times that no amount of numbweed or Fellis juice could take away the soon-to-be harper’s illness or pains, everyday she begged to go between just to escape the agony she felt in her waking moments (which were sparingly short due to the amount of Fellis juice she consumed when she was awake, healer’s orders; she was later assured.) She was the age of ten (almost eleven) at that point in her life, an entire turn lost to illness, an entire turn which she used to her advantage, for in that period of time Ashmere scrawled dozens of ’twiddles’ as her father called them (her mother called them ’lovely songs’ Ashmere herself she referred to them as ’sagas’ a term she thought they earned indeed). Hundreds of notes and lyrics all neatly written on scraps of hide left unused and forgotten by Yvermur, it was on these that Ashmere poured her emotions and talent, in her few moments of upright wakefulness she wrote wholeheartedly the music she felt in her very soul.

It then came a day, a seventhday from being back to her feet and able to attend chores that the young brunette found a new feeling stir in her small, petite frame, words at that time could not begin to merit the intensity she burned with; all her work save for four songs had been sanded clean from the trim hide that was near perfect, wiped away by her father without a care or even a need. His exact words went something along the lines of: ’a girl your age should get your head out of the clouds and into the mindset of what you are capable of. Your body is not fit for work, you’re a deadglow, with no real skills to aid the Hold, someone like you would best be a drudge, maybe it would be best if you stayed beside your mother all your turns, who was I to try and make you into something useful.’

Ashmere grimaced and winced at his words, the emotional uprising of pain and heartache she never knew that she could feel suddenly swelled in the little girl, in all her turns no one had ever been so cruel, there were a few children that mocked her because of her manner of speech (a few sparse stutters and constant lisping); but never did she think her own papa would address her such as what he had. In inner conflict of proving her father wrong and proving herself to him, she pushed away from her love, her art her true calling, and set her sights on bringing honour to her family.

Time and time again she put her efforts in tasks that were new and odd, weaving, smithing, yet with each new attempt the young Ashmere found herself failing, it was at this point her mother kindly reassured her daughter and gave her the confidence she needed to rekindle her love for song.

‘But it is in Harper Blue, I can’t wear that mother,’ Ashmere had complained when the older woman brandished a new tunic and trousers for her daughter. The woman simply shook her head with a sly smile.
‘Where you are going, my daughter, blue is a common colour I hear,’ she had retorted as she braided her sole child’s hair into tight folds, neat and restrained. At the time Ashmere didn’t understand her mother’s words, nor her actions, but it was that very same eve that the girl rode her first dragon and saw her Masterharper, it was that night Ashmere became an apprentice and a Harper; all thanks to her mother, a petite woman with steel grey eyes and matching hair (due to the fact she was already well into her fifties), the woman that she loved and hid behind for so long, gave her a helpful nudge without her even knowing, for she too had found some of the hides scrawled with music; but instead of sanding them clear, the woman called in a favour from a cousin and had her daughter’s work sent to the Harper Hall, instantly stirring the craftsmen of the trade with peaked interest of the babe.

Two turns passed by quickly at the Hall, her skill and love for her work thrived strongly and in fact even grew, she was extremely skilled with musical inflection, notes, little things, that she could do by ear alone was more than some could do with the greatest of efforts, yet it was still her ability to make songs that set her two steps above the other harpers of her rank. Long days would sometimes bleed into long nights, and sometime it would be a seventhday before she would even find the time to truly rest for longer than two or three hours. In these two turns Ashmere discovered her sexual orientation as she found a journeywoman that she found to be the most gorgeous creature on Pern; she blamed her father fully for her lusty stares and odd thoughts of being with the older girl, yet at the same time she didn’t feel as if her viewpoint was wrong, or even disgusting, it felt natural, just like music. It was part of who she was, and because of that, it was beautiful and true, it was just another life lesson she had to learn on her own.

Where had it all lead her, in her turns at the hall she grew into a fine young woman, she developed her own since of style and flare, she would chase around the troublemakers badgering them with idle threats to keep them on their toes, and in the early morns she would help the kitchen workers and headwoman with breakfast preparations, at times she would wear herself too thin; between chores at the hall that were assigned and duties she gave herself, the frail harper visited the healer more times than a proper harper ought to. But still, there she was, proud of every step she took to become who she was, strong, not physically but in her own right, strong as anyone she knew, and perhaps stronger than most.

It was in her sixth turn at the hall bring her age to seventeen in full, that she had expected to walk the tables early, it was a breezy night, that carried with it the soft scent of rain yet to come, and maybe even the threat of thread but Ashmere was hopeful the dreary bleak skies would not damper the occasion, for there had been talk that someone would gain rank that very night at dinner. It was, much to her dismay when it was not her that had been announced but rather a journeyman to master. In fact, it upset her greatly, but there were yet secretes to be unfolded that meal. It was when the Masterharper rose that everyone silenced and went idle, with baited breath everyone watched as the master walked from his seat to the smallest of senor-apprentice harpers, resting his hands on her shoulders he had spoken out in his lush baritone voice and announced that she would be serving the harpers well and proud by traveling to a newer Weyr called Malvren and lending them her talents as well as continuing her training under the voice master there as well as the master of composition. It was a full seventhday before Ashmere set out for the second time in her life aboard dragon back, it was a dragon from the very Weyr she would be calling home, a lovely crimson that just like the first woman she had feelings for, she thought that this female too was the most gorgeous creature in all of Pern.

(I would just like to place a note: Ashmere is completely new the Weyr and Weyr life, and as far as roleplaying her goes, she will be fresh off dragon back when she begins to be played, if I may, I will update her history as it builds and unfolds. If I may? If not I will add her getting settled into Malvren.)

Description: Notably pretty, slender, and pale, the only distinct feature that the harper has that keeps her from being ‘beautiful’ is a long jagged scar that courses the length of her face, from the tip of her brow on her right-hand side which runs the length to the underside of her jaw, her vision however was spared in the accident that caused her dominate feature, yet the damage it caused her emotionally was just as crushing as being blinded.

Clad in traditional harper blues, Ashmere enjoys loose fitting clothes; they tend to give her the feel of protection, as well as useful in hiding her gaunt, frail frame. Her complexion is fair, verging on a sickly ivory however do to her fragile constitution her tone is disregarded as just something that is natural for something that stays inside and has bed rest often.

Ashmere is as most of her masters deem ’messy’, she is not one to dress with flamboyant fashions or feminine flair, however her style is not masculine in the slightest, it is simply unique to the small harper girl if not a bit unkempt. Her hair is a light brown in colour which she keeps short, uneven, truly an odd manner compared to others; the back is taken short jagged and layered while the front is kept long and runs the course to her chin (which helps to hide her scar), her bangs are long as well and slightly further past her chin than the rest of the uneven hair in her face, the style has a history with Ashmere so she keeps it and wears it with fondness, a certain journeywoman had ’butchered’ her long hair that she used to keep in a simple braid and in effort to fix it styled her brown tresses in the cute unusual manner.

Ashmere’s soft round eyes are the coldest shade of steely grey, the edges of her hues hid small flecks of icy blue which very seldom catch stray reveries of light, the blue colour only adds to the far away harden gaze that she hides behind soft brown locks, too many younger apprentices had always shunned the girl based off her almost harsh stare which she would have to force to brighten with a large almost fanged grin, that too sometimes caused people to shy away, it was not normal to have such overly long eyeteeth.

Ashmere stands only at five foot two, and with her small build, the girl to most people, seems meek, and frail, sometimes with larger instruments she seems almost childlike, truly the kind of woman that many people would try to protect based off looks.

Personality: The young harper, has her pros and cons, she tends finds many things wrong with herself, things that she tries so very hard to rectify. When Ashmere was younger she would simply blame others, mostly her father for her actions that many saw as odd, however in her older turns she learned that her actions and manners were hers alone and there was no one to shift blame to, no one but herself.

Rude, hasty, selfish, is how the young girl is often perceived, but in actuality she is simply absentminded and dismissive to others around her, save for people that she grows fond of. Her true underlying nature is stubborn, and quick tongued, to a small degree she finds it hard to take in fully what authority figures have to say based solely on her own judgment and views on subjects, which causes her to be somewhat the troublemaker to certain masters. It is however, her intelligent and quick wit that keeps her from getting into too much trouble accompanied by her polite and proper manners. Which was due to her mother and father’s consent corrections (normally with a belt), there was no reason that a farmer’s daughter had to have ill temperament and a mouth as dirty as her hands. By shells her parents would have none of that, indeed manners and etiquette were beaten into her and never forgotten, only sharpened with life in the craft hall.

In her time around a particular female journeywoman Ashmere developed certain habits that have long since stuck with her, even though she is reserved but will talk if she must, the girl tends to be what some would call ’clingy’ or perhaps ’touchy feely’, the frail girl finds a few sparing moments of great comfort and solace (because she tends to find herself awkward around people) when she feels the warm of others skin or the closeness of their person against or near her body. She often seeks such comfort but as an end result she finds herself muttering rushed apologies before scurrying off to cry in her quarters.

Emotional, overly so could describe the girl fairly well, however Ashmere is fully aware of her odd behaviours and tends to keep things bottled up until she finds herself at a breaking point, it is at those points that the girl indulges tears and locking herself in her room to brood and write her songs, it is other times were she gathers glows, and secludes herself in the bathing chambers late in the eve and soaks for hours, using far more coals than any one person ought to be allowed. But it is due to her physical feebleness that chamber hands allow her to steal away so many coals for her long baths, seeing has how healers tend to encourage her activity saying it is good for her muscles and her health.

Ashmere is more than just absentminded she is also compulsive and obsessive when it comes to certain things, routines, portions of food she intakes (which is far too little even for her size, yet she see herself as being small, so thusly she doesn’t need to eat as much, a bit of a martyr really), and cleanliness. It is not uncommon to see her fusing about needing to wash her hands after a long practice with instruments or her since of urgency to leave dinner so she can bath. Overall Ashmere is a disheveled, sickly, clumsy, brilliant harper that is seldom understood or valued for her better qualities but strives to better herself so that one day, she can feel adequate and accomplished with her life.

Other: Ashmere has yet to be searched, or so she thinks, in all respect she was supposed to walk the tables early however due to a request she was instead sent to live life at Malvren Weyr by the Masterharper, unfortunately due to a misheard message by a drummer in the Heights she was sent out too late to join in the participation of the soon to be clutching. Forever and always the unlucky, lucky girl.

That is basically what I was told to do before she is excepted----

It is not like I meant to make her, overly uber, it is just the fact, I completely based her off of myself................

I made edits, a lot in fact----I took out some of the ways that she is viewed, I mostly made the "not being valued" thing a self issue about herself. She is a hard worker and dedicated, I also changed how people "see" her.....in my experience growing up people that didn't know me, or didn't know me well enough, thought that I was rude, hasty, and selfish, when I asked those people why they thought that, they would tell me because my polite nature makes me seem fake like I was hiding my rudeness with mock kindness. I was hasty because I was always pushing people away to go study and I wouldn't fully listen to what people were saying rather than trying to read into it and get the subtext, and as for being selfish, they got that from the other two, always rushing off not listening to go do what I wanted, which was actually studying, and prep-testing, or my music. But I was only thinking about me, so they said, instead of letting others help or helping others that were having hard times......

Bleh, I don't know....sad day.