Name: Tyila
Age: 21 turns
Sex: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Weyr: High Reaches Weyr,
Rider Rank: Wingrider
Previous Rank/Craft: Weavercraft, apprentice
Physical Description: Tylia is a barely budding wisp of a young woman, barely changed since her teenage years. She's small, rail-like, and has a perpetually terrified demeanor. She barely brushes the 5' mark, and seems to have plenty of growing and filling out to do, or would, if she wasn't already done growing. Life on the move, especially in the wilds with her "family", has given her tanned skin that is unmarred by pimple scars of teenage years gone by, though one faint scar traces across her right cheek, just below her eye. Her eyes are wide to match her almost childishly round face, and a typical but pleasant rich brown shade. Her nose and mouth are small in comparison; her brows are often knit in concern or distress. Life as a rover, especially for a child, is difficult, and she will go on to form wrinkles early (though not yet) if she keeps it up. Her limbs are delicate and her fingers thin and fine. Her hair has only the faintest of waves, and is a nondescript dark brown, typical of Pernese. She often wears it tied up in a small bun, as she's done for turns.
She is rather feminine, to the extent that one could be when living with an ever-moving group of outcasts. She enjoys wearing skirts and dresses of light but covering fabrics—she wouldn't dare wear anything that rises past mid-calf. Most of her clothing is inexpertly made, and somewhat clumsily constructed, but it is durable and gets the job done, regardless of its ill state of matching and somewhat worn look. Boots are the order of the day for footwear, and hers match her clothing in being worn, but more than usable. She has very few trinkets or flashy items, though she often has been starstruck by the beautiful things raiders brought back from the holds and weyrs in the past.
Personality: Prior to these recent events of madness she was a cheerful, if shy girl. Soft-spoken and demure, she kept mostly to herself and did her very best to stay out of the way, out of trouble. She rarely if ever complains about anything, and does her best to always do her best, even at tasks that reward no praise. She prefers to avoid conflict than fight it out, and deals with things like bullying by running away and hiding. She isn't likely to tattle; that might only make the bullies angry, after all. She's always felt it better just to keep her head down and do what she's told, and to enjoy not being in trouble and making what friends she could.
Around strangers she's terribly shy; timid and submissive indeed. She hates to upset or anger people, and will do her best to appeal to someone in a non-pushy way. Once she's made a friend she comes out of her shell more and more. She will never be a brave friend, or a bold one, but if you've grown really dear to her she might occasionally hazard giving her real opinion on things, rather than constantly going along with what others want; or maybe if she felt you were trustworthy she might ask your opinion on something. It isn't that she's meant to be a follower forever, she's just too scared of messing up and losing her few friends to dare be more outgoing, even around them. She just wants to be liked and not driven away or get in trouble. So even around her friends she keeps her opinions very close to her vest.
Since the events of late, her world's been turned quite upside down. Both parents dead, and on the run from everyone and everything she'd known all her life, thread falling from the sky for the first time in more or less ever? She's been a breath away from a breakdown for months, though she finally seems to be calming down now that she is safely ensconced in High Reaches (though that of course has brought its own selection of challenges for her.)
Pros: Kind, dedicated, charitable.
Cons: Shy, submissive, easily bullied/frightened/pushed around.
History: Her parents left (read: were chased out of) their home hold for some reason she's never been quite sure of. The truth was that her father had been caught rigging betting on fighting whers, and skipped out on too many bets. He and his wife who was just starting to show her pregnancy fled, and eventually come to join a band of holdless. As they'd never been branded exiles, the group thought it safe enough to absorb the tiny family, and off they went into the wilds together. Several months later, as babies are wont to do, Tyila was born.
Her life was fairly normal for a holdless child, moving from place to place and learning to pull her weight around the group. Her parents never had any more children, perhaps thinking one was hard enough to care for in the rugged lifestyle. She managed to live through her youth possibly because of this devoted attention, and was taken under the wing of an old but skilled weaver journeyman, who'd been ousted from his old hold for making the Holder's wife something she found 'clashing', at the age of 12, thanks to her nimble and slender fingers. Barely had she begun to gain skill in the craft when things started heading downhill.
A newcomer, and this one firmly branded an exile, took over leadership of the group. What was originally a band of families just trying to get by quickly became something of a raiding band of pillagers. She saw a wher kill a man before she turned 14 turns old, and held her mother as she bled out, stabbed in the back over a bottle of wine, a turn later. A great many unpleasant things happened to the young girls and boys in their group at that time, and really it was only her perpetually underage appearance, coupled with the ability to go nearly unseen and silent, that spared her that fate.
Eventually things came to a head when a small group of men in the guise of traders gained access to a weyr with eggs on the sands. They stole three, and made it back into the brush before they could be caught. They kept on the move for sevendays after, until at last the eggs hatched. One poor dragonet simply cried out before slipping between, leaving a green and a blue behind. The blue impressed to the son of the group's leader. The green, Mishaath, to Tyila, tearing her from the shadows and putting her in a much unwanted spotlight of attention.
It was a miracle that she managed to survive the next half decade unbroken at all, and she was forced many times into using her dragon to help steal anything from supplies to records to livestock. She hated it so much that when finally a greenrider from High Reaches caught her snooping around near the weyr's pens, she was almost glad. If she died, she wouldn't have to steal and hurt people any more, she thought. But they didn't flame her out of the sky, or sound the alarm. Instead, he introduced himself and his dragon, and slowly over the course of months built the first real friendship she'd ever been party to, aside from that of her dragon's. Together they planned to find a way to help her escape the raiding group. She refused to turn them in or give their location, always meeting her new friend T'rel at known landmarks away from either her group or his weyr. She had no love for her 'family' of brutes, but they HAD given her life, given her food and shelter, given her Mishaath, most of all, and she decided that simply leaving and letting them escape would be enough to pay her debts. She would have to leave her father behind, but he had taken to their aggressive ways too readily for her to waver over that.
Thread precluded her terrified flight from the rogue holdless' camp. It fell the night she had meant to meet T'rel and escape at last, and in the panic of defenseless holdless running and screaming and dying around her, she simply betweened away to the hillside cave they'd meant to meet at. T'rel of course was called to battle thread, and so she waited alone for a full day before he could come for her. By the time they reached High Reaches, she was moments from collapse, and Mishaath looked ready to drop, as did the numerous other refugees from anywhere else on Pern that had been unprepared. Her origins were lost in the planet-wide chaos, and she dove into her new life with gracious and fearful eagerness, determined to both blend in and to work her best to repay this new debt, both to the weyr, and to the man she thought she might come to call weyrmate one day.
Other: She has 100% absolutely no problem taking orders. She actually probably embodies exactly what High REaches would think a greenrider would be made up of, in some ways.
DRAGON
Name: Mishaath
Age: 6 turns
Color: Green
Size: 19'
Physical Description: She is a little, dainty green beauty with big strong hindquarters, extra long headknobs, and the biggest jewel eyes you've ever seen! She has darker wingsails, and a near-white pale belly, as well as some rather unique markings—the same near-white looks like it's been splashed on her nose, and she's dipped her toes and tailtip into it. The main of her body has a very faint speckling look to it, though of course there's no textural difference.
She looks much larger from behind than from the side or the front, as if her back end was made for a dragon several feet longer than her. Her gait is rather awkward on the ground, but she has speed. Oh boy does she have speed!
Personality: Oh dear, oh my, what is that, and that, and that? From the moment her shell cracked, Mishaath has been filled with a wide-eyed curiosity about the world—one heavily tempered by fear, for the world is just so big and, more often than not, scary! So while she really wants to know what that thing over there is...she'd really rather just watch it, thanks. At least until she knows it's safe! And if it isn't, well, expect her to be making tracks in the opposite direction. Bravery is most certainly not this little green's strong suit, and she grows increasingly anxious without the comforting presence of her bond or a friend.
When she has that comfort, however, Mishaath becomes a cheerful, chatty little green whose mind is always nibbling away at something. Have a problem? She'll happily hear you out, and then offer a heap of advice that she's put together while you were talking. She doesn't know if this advice will work, but...she has ideas! Lots of them! This can work against her in a wing, as it's easy for her to become wrapped up in the minutiae of a particular maneuver and forget that there are other moves in the drill as well. She's in luck that she's extremely quick on the wing, adept at sharp, veering turns that can give whiplash to the unwary—it gives her a chance to catch up if she falls behind.
When it comes to Flights, Mishaath rises often and quickly. While she's attentive to the needs of her rider, she prefers gentler males—bolder, more aggressive dragons intimidate her, and she will shy away.
All in all she's a bright, clever green, but full of nervous energy that can work against her just as easily as it can work for her.
Pros: Curious, sweet, cheerful, energetic.
Cons: Overcautious, flighty, clingy, nervous.
OOC: She's totally a heavily edited version of herself from another shop. Please hit me up if her history's too outlandish, because I wanted to stay true to who she was there, but couldn't exactly steal that place's story and character aspects, y'know?
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