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Prisoner: Yes
Crime: Fraud--But the guards keep begging the Warden to put her in the unstable block. PLEASE. Oh god. Now she has a Dragon.
Former Craft/Rank: Privlidged, Spoiled, Youth. Oh, that doesn't count? How about 'trophy wife in training?' Is that better? No? Well, she does know how to sew, and dreams of bringing fashion to the poor, poor, ugly masses. Ugh. And someone get them some soap. Perfume. SOMETHING. Like, omg, she's about to pass out from their stink. Weyrling
Appearance: Marue Du'Lace makes the prison jumpsuit look good. Well, as good as any one piece, baggy, horrifyingly red jumpsuit can. There are very few that will deny the girl has appeal: curves in the right places, with beautiful bright green eyes and Long, Luxurious, Flowing Golden Hair. (Yes. She thinks of it in capitalized and italicized letters, and yes, she refuses to think of it as short as it is.) Daily, she bites her lips in order to maintain their beautiful ruby shade, and she pinches her pale cheeks to give the impression of rouge. Often she will have her uniform cuffed, unbuttoned, twisted, whatever manner will make the damnable thing look something like presentable, not to mention avoid those terrible tan lines every other gross person here has. The girl does her best to keep from getting dirty, and a stain, even on such an ugly jumpsuit, will send her into a full rage, or panic attack, depending on her mood. Either way she'll screech at you until you pray for threadfall. Even more so than her clothes, she stresses over her hair. Every day it is done up in some flamboyant style, or at least as much as she can manage with out such proper product for her hair. She cried for months when her head was shaved--which was quite a spectacle in and of itself. The petite girl suddenly turned as dangerous as an unbonded wher, and eventually had to be sedated for the safety of the guards. "Which was totally uncalled for, I mean, like, SERIOUSLY. I'm a prisoner, not a BARBARIAN." The guard Brakesh always takes more than just a bit of satisfaction knowing she was one of the guards to shave off those long, pretty locks. Currently, Maru wears her hair in a simple sexy bob, though often flamboyantly styled with braids or whatever else she can manage.

You'll never see her with a pimple, but not because she never gets them: rather, the girl hyperventilates at the sight of one, which often results in her passing out cold. She will then proceed to hide until the demon mark has gone away.

Personality:
Madame Marue Du'Lace, as she introduces herself, has an immediate privileged and snobby air. She'll flip her long blonde hair, and you'll know immediately. Like, she might a prisoner, but she's still way better than you. This air about her is almost impossible to keep in check, and thus far the only time anyone has seen it subside is when she is in the presence of someone as pretty as herself. Mind you, anyone she finds prettier (which she will never admit that there even is such a person) she has two very specific responses to: should they be male, they will be fawned over with batting eyelashes and just the right amount of cleavage, should they be female, she will likely treat them with catty jealousy and the singular most pompous, dismissive hair flip that Pern has ever had the misfortune to be host to.

She certainly has a nack for fashion, and the closest thing she gets to treating anyone like a proper human being are her guerrilla style make overs, in which she will take up some poor, ugly, lost soul and works her magic to make them Beautiful. Perhaps the worst and most intolerable part of this is that she almost always succeeds. It is her only vaguely redeeming quality, though you will have to withstand her pompous air the entire time, leaving most feeling like it's an even trade, rather than grateful. Marue on the other hand sees it as her subjects being ever ungrateful, and rather thinks of herself as a saint because of it. "It's so hard being pretty, no one ever appreciates all the hard work I have to go through."

Perhaps it is worth making note that the Madame has running static with a Certain Ugly Guard by name of Brakesh. She just can't understand why that ugly girl is so jealous of her, and Brakesh can't understand why the warden won't let her break that pretty face.

History:
Marue was born into a very privileged family, and thusly was groomed to be a proper wife rather than receiving the useful training most on Pern take on. Painting, singing, along with an entire host of completely useless skills were drilled into her brain. She learned her lessons well enough, to keep clean, and manicure her appearance. It is worth noting that irritating little monsters like Marue are not born, but created, and boy did her mother get creative. Superficially they had the perfect life, wealthy, happy. No one would ever know about her Mother's severe Dust addiction, just barely managed for appearances, and her father's drinking, managed much in the same way. How was a child supposed to understand a drunken rage, or a mother's fits when the dust supply dwindled? All she knew was that she had to try harder. Had to be perfect. Had to look perfect. At home the child was placed on a hair trigger, never sure when one or the other would fly off the handle. Her nannies kept her sheltered as much as they could, bless them. But when it came down to it, they were simply hired help. Marue could remember one, she had cared for her since she was a baby, when her mother could not be bothered. When Marue was five, her mother flew into a particularly firey rage. Glados, or Glayglay as the child had always called her, watched, horrified as the rabid woman screamed at her daughter. All she had done was spill a glass, a simple glass of water! But when the woman swang at her own kin, Old Glayglay had enough. Before the manicured Lady's hands could land on the child, the old woman swang hard, and gave her a black eye followed by a stern and heated lecture. Marue never saw old Glayglay again, and boy had she cried. It was as if, no. It was that they had taken away the only mother the child had ever really known. Her mother was more careful with the nannies from then on. They never stayed long, and the moment they so much as looked at the Lady wrong, their stay at the home had ended. Their cook on the other hand, was much better at keeping his mouth shut. The child lived for their produce deliveries, which--unbeknownst to the Lord and Lady of the house--were by some clever miracle (worked by none other than the shrewd cook) delivered by none other than Old Glayglay herself. It took little to persuade the Lord and Lady to allow the child underfoot in the kitchens, where Marue would spend her treasured visits with her old nanny. One day when she was ten she ran down to the kitchen to meet her old nanny, only to be greeted by a strange face. The cook's face was grave as the new lady whispered tearfully to him, and the child could only look on, and try to understand. The cook risked his job when he snuck the child out of the house for a full three hours to attend the beloved old woman's funeral. Never before, and never since, has Marue cried so hard, deeply and honestly. Old Glayglay's family was kind. They had heard their mother, their grandmother, their aunt, speak of the little child with honest love and honest pain, and Marue would never understand how they had come to love her for that alone. They were kind enough to give her the old mother's necklace--a treasure she would keep for the rest of her life. When it came time to relinquish her possessions as she entered the prison, it was still hung around the girl's neck, and giving it up felt like a part of her dieing, but she did so with no fuss, only a lip bitten so hard it bled and a few very bitter tears.

When Marue had turned twelve, she begged her mother and father to allow her to learn Weaver Craft. Her mother winced at the suggestion, how common. Still, if it would keep the blasted child out of her hair, she would agree. Marue buried herself in her work, an adept studen when it came to sewing and constructing clothing, but as any teenager there was a rather.. severe rebellion. Her father's money got her out of more trouble than not, mostly little things. Why should she worry? She wasn't one of the common masses, she was heir to the Du'Lace fortune. It wasn't until she decided that impersonating a Dragon Watch member was the easiest way to get what she wanted that things went sour. Her father managed to have her charge reduced to fraud, but had no such luck in keeping his little girl from prison. Admittance was traumatic, and barbaric in her mind, as has every day since.

It was from the clutch between the crippled gold and the missing blue that Marue impressed Sturnuth. Their life together is still very new, and very tense, but she and her bondmate are positively in love, and no one will ever be as good as they are.

Appearance: First and foremost - and this is important. Sturnuth is not gold. She's yellow. Her hide, patched irregularly in half a dozen different shades of yellow, doesn't have that distinctive metallic sheen. Instead, it's the sleek matte color of a chromatic. Just yellow. Like most of her clutch, there's no telling what the markings on her hide will eventually fade to - she's likely going to darken, but there's no indication on her body as to what she's going to look like when she gets big.

And boy oh boy is she going to get big. The size of a brown hatchling straight out of the shell, Sturnuth is probably going to outsize browns someday. Her body shape is sleek, though, narrow head, slim body, in great shape for a dragon once the baby fat dissipates. And she intends to keep it that way. Her wings are proportionally a little small, but they are also pointed at the tips. Coupled with a long tail, this makes her both astonishingly fast and astonishingly maneuverable for a dragon of her size. Spectacular aerobatics are going to be her thing - something she sacrifices a little bit of stamina for, enough that she's going to tire faster than some browns. But she can still outfly blues. Easily.

Personality:

Let's get things straight, first things first: Sturnuth. Is. Yellow. Not gold. No matter how much her rider might want her to be gold...Sturnuth is yellow. She knows she's yellow. She knows she's yellow and she just doesn't care.

Sturnuth is a dragon of simple tastes. Or rather, she's a dragon of straightforward taste. She knows what she likes. What she likes isn't precisely simple, but it is very, very specific. Sturnuth likes three things: she likes her rider, she likes other dragons, and she likes attention. Everything else can take a back seat, because she honestly doesn't care.

She's big. Bigger than any other female in the clutch. And she knew it from the moment she broke her shell. Admittedly, she's not the biggest female color ever, but that's never, ever going to stop her. She might not be the size of one, but Sturnuth is louder than any gold could ever be, and she's perfectly willing to start fights with dragons twice her size. (Or fifteen times her size when she's little.) It's not that she thinks she's a gold. Sturnuth knows she's yellow - and she's proud of it. But she's convinced that when it comes to colors, chromatic is best. After all, there are more greens and blues at Warden's Weyr than anything else, right? So if all the greens stick together, with the blues and the yellows and greys and pinks, and maybe even Lasoth if she can get over herself...well, they could run this place, golds or no golds.

As long as Sturnuth gets to be the leader - because she's totally the one with the right to be in charge. She has all the best qualities (at least in her own head): she can scream louder, she can boss louder, and she's a dynamo of intensity that keeps people motivated. There's no way she's going to cede control to anyone else. This dragon has an ego the size of Benden Weyr stuffed into that head, and this is not going to help anything. She knows she's absolutely spectacular - and that's one of the reasons she chose Marue. The best seeks out the best, and Sturnuth wouldn't go to anyone who wasn't absolutely confident she was perfect.

She indulges Marue horribly - who cares if what she's doing inflates the girl's ego? They're going to rule Pern someday, so why not let Marue know she's the best? She'll always treat her rider like a lady, of course, but Marue's the only one. Everyone else can take a back seat, because Sturnuth doesn't care about their feelings. Why should she? She's going to be in charge, and unless you're bowing and indulging her, she doesn't care about you. She doesn't like being told no. She does, however, like making her rider happy. And if that means pinning someone down so Marue can give them a makeover? That's okay. Heck, it's kind of fun.

Needless to say, she doesn't get along with many of her siblings. Haliath is a goody-goody. Poecileth is just a mess of feelings and isn't going to get anything done. Lasoth is way too timid and who cares that she's shiny? She'll get along the best with Haemath - who is just as brash and loud as she is, and whom Sturnuth sees as useful - and Cyanath, whose schemes she can get behind. Sturnuth isn't particularly witty when it comes to subterfuge, so any help she can get, she'll gladly accept. As long as she wheedles and manipulates the other dragon into doing it. Because Sturnuth doesn't accept charity. She and her rider don't need your help, so quit offering!

It should be noted that Sturnuth will neither Rise nor Chase. She has no interest in that kind of boring mess, it's just a way for greens and golds to get attention.

Why me? What was Marue going to do with a common dragon? Certainly not expect to succeed! No, Sturnuth knew right off the bat that Marue was only good enough for her - because Marue was convinced she was too good for anyone. Sturnuth might not be gold, but that's not going to stop her singleminded drive to run the Weyr, and she wouldn't have been able to do that without a rider as completely self-absorbed and demanding as Marue. And frankly, the staff thought it'd be hilarious.