Post by Cait on Mar 26, 2015 13:49:02 GMT -8
Name: Ailys Fairn
Pronunciation: ey(as in cake)-liss fair’n
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Turnday: 60.03.15
Weyr: Telgar
Rank: Weyrling
Family:
Lysendar (L’dar) formerly of Brown Falgarth; deceased
Alinor formerly weaver at Telgar Weyr; deceased
Friends: F’mil and Crimson-White Delgeth
Pets: None
Appearance: At just under five feet tall, it doesn’t seem like Ailys will grow much taller as she ages. Her body is petite though quite curvy and could only be described as being soft and maybe even plush in places. Her stomach has a faint curve, her hips are flared and her bosom is rather ample. In all she is a rather adorable little thing with pale complexion, soft features and coloring typical of the far north. Her pale blonde hair is quite long, falling nearly to the backs of her thighs and prone to holding a static charge which causes a bit of a halo effect when the hair is braided and piled atop her head. Her eyes are open and expressive and a brilliant sky blue, framed by lashes a few shades darker than her hair.
Adoring vibrant shades of color, Ailys has the capacity to end up dressing in a rather gaudy fashion. Circumstances, however, have limited her wardrobe to rather sedate and faded shades of the colors she loves so dearly. Mauve instead of purple, slate instead of blue, sage instead of green and all of them woefully faded and pale to the point of making the girl seem a bit drab. But as she’s being exposed to new and wonderful things, she’s slowly gathering bits and pieces of flashy, sometimes hideous clothing; a yellow scarf here or a blue belt there. Mostly discarded things that she salvages and repurposes.
Personality: Too precious for this world comes to mind when one encounters Ailys. That or woefully unprepared for life. Having been raised in such seclusion, her view of the world and everything in it is incredibly skewed. Almost dangerously so. Because every person she’s ever known (a grand total of maybe four people) has been nice, all people must be nice. Because every animal she’s ever met has been nice, all animals must be nice. Because the stories she’d been told of dragons and dragonriders starred brave and noble and valiant characters, all dragonriders and their dragons are brave and honorable and noble. She doesn’t understand things like anger or violence and in truth has experienced neither and so has no idea how to handle them. Outbursts of either often leave Ailys in a state of anxious confusion and prompts her to get teary eyed.
Insatiably curious and unfailingly friendly, Ailys is of the opinion that everyone she meets is her friend. She is far too trusting and far too forgiving. She is capable of rationalizing even the worst of behaviors and habits. People that are just downright rude or cruel clearly must be suffering from a bad day and should the behavior continue, they must be suffering from a long string of bad days and therefore are in serious need of cheering up. After all, everyone is nice and good, remember?
When startled by loud noises or raised voices, Ailys is prone to reflexive crying. This applies to yelling, being snuck up on, unexpected dragon noises and just about anything that is significant enough to truly scare her. She can recover quickly but if someone is yelling at her and not just near her she has extreme difficulty processing it.
Having been raised in isolation, her creativity was encouraged to keep her occupied and it has manifested in an almost compulsive need to make beautiful things. Typically this manifests in drawing and painting though she has some talent for embroidery. Nearly every paintable surface of her old home was covered in paintings depicting dragons and firelizards and fields of flowers and various stories that her mother had told her about dragonriders. Her talent lies with dragons though she is a fair hand at sketching people. As she has never been discouraged, it is likely that she will be quite perplexed when the people of the weyr are not nearly as approving of her tendency to paint on walls.
History: Born a matter of months before her father Lysendar (L’dar) lost his dragon, the former brownrider moved his little family out of Telgar Weyr as it was far too painful a reminder of what he had lost. At first they settled in a nearby Hold, but when that proved to be too much for Lysendar to handle, his weyrmate Alinor moved them even further from civilization until they finally ended up on the very edge of a small crofthold. With only a rather silly pink firelizard as their connection to the outside world, Ailys was raised in seclusion.
Her mother was sweet and kind and taught the girl to embroider and sew though it was drawing and painting that little Ailys, a near carbon copy of her mother, took a shine to. As their only child, Lysendar and Alinor doted on Ailys and Lysendar being jaded and half a man, was somewhat paranoid about letting the outside world in. Being of a sweet disposition and obliging to her eternally suffering mate, Alinor didn’t complain. She may have missed life at Telgar Weyr, but she never mentioned it; at least not directly. Instead she would tell Ailys stories about a brave and handsome brownrider and his kind and hardworking dragon. She turned all of her old friends and acquaintances into characters in stories and sent them on noble and daring adventures, filling the girl’s head with a rather skewed image of dragons and their riders.
As she never truly had contact with others, and certainly no one her own age, Ailys was left to her own devices when both mother and father were busy. This was how the painting started. At first it was just on paper, but gradually it spread until she’d painted the walls of her small room. Then it spilled out into the hall and throughout the entire small domicile until every interior wall was painted with scenes from her mother’s stories. Dragons swooping through the sky, riders rescuing troubled damsels. All manner of heroic and noble deeds as well as flowers. She was ever a lover of wild flowers that would grow in the small grassy patch outside their home.
Any supplies were secured by Lysendar and though their life wasn’t particularly bountiful, they didn’t want for anything. The former dragonrider worked for the supplies he needed to keep his family clothed and fed and warm in the winter. things were actually quite pleasant for a nearly eight turns before tragedy struck the small family. Alinor went to sleep one night and never woke up. She’d suffered an aneurism and died peacefully. Already half a man, the loss hit Lysendar hard and he withdrew into himself. Though Ailys was saddened by the loss, being a happy little thing, she recovered and her bright smiles and jubilant nature kept the man going. It was at this time, unknown to Ailys, that Lysendar contacted his wingleader from when he’d been a dragonrider (a fact that Ailys was still oblivious to) and asked of him a single favor; before he died he would send his firelizard with no message and it would signify that someone was to come and fetch his girl back to the Weyr. The promise was made and turns passed.
Ailys grew and even more Lysendar was determined to keep from her all the bad and horrible things in the world. She was precious and pure and he didn’t want to see her tainted by greed and violence and cruelty. Her contact with the distant croftholders was minimal and not knowing anything else, she was content. She would play with her father’s firelizard, explore the area surrounding their home and when she had enough supplies to make paints, she would paint any rock or surface she could find. Life was simple and good and occasionally when she would see a dragon overhead, she would think of her mother and smile. And while he knew he would not live forever (as he hadn’t exactly been young when his dragon had been killed in an accident), Lysendar couldn’t bring himself to let the one good thing in his life go.
There was no apprenticeship for Ailys and aside from cooking and cleaning for her father, she was typically left to her own devices. But as the turns passed, Lysendar’s age finally caught up with him, and though he was still quite young in the scheme of things, his will to fight was diminished. A wasting illness took hold and it wasn’t long before he was bedridden. Ever the optimist, Ailys was sure that he would get better if only he would rest, or eat more or do this or that. In the end she and the thought of joining his departed dragon were the only things that comforted the dragonless man. That and the knowledge that his old wingleader would look after Ailys when he was gone. The pink firelizard was sent just a day before he finally succumbed to the illness and Ailys was left alone for the first time in the seventeen turns of her life. Even the firelizard went wild after keening for her lost handler.
It was the crofters that helped bury Lysendar beside her mother but as they’d never truly met the girl, they kept their distance. Left to her own devices, Ailys drew, and drew, and drew. Pictures of her father, of her mother. Pictures of the firelizard and of dragons and flowers. She drew until she ran out of paper and then she set about cleaning the house as it was nearing springtime. If she was a bit more subdued than usual, no one was there to notice. Days passed and she was able to distract herself with menial but familiar tasks and it worked to take her mind from the fact that she was alone. As her default was to be cheerful and good natured, it didn’t take long for her to settle back into her usual rhythm of life. Since the death of her mother she’d been more or less on her own, but she wouldn’t be alone forever. Lysendar had made contingencies even if he hadn’t prepared her for the eventuality that her life would not be lived out in a small, colorful hovel in the middle of nowhere.
Sent by a superior from Telgar, it was F'mil of crimson-white Delgeth who found her in her little home. It didn't take too much convincing before the man got her to agree to come with him back to the Weyr. Once there she was immersed in a vastly different world. A world where it was sometimes overwhelming and certainly confusing. For the most part she was cheerful and friendly, all smiles and eagerness, willing to help out when and where she could. She was also rather irritating to the drudges who would catch Ailys at painting various surfaces in the Weyr and be forced to clean up after her; sometimes ratting her out to the candidate master. Confused about why the people of Telgar wouldn't want beauty in their world, she didn't give up, but rather learned that if she slipped away into the lower caverns, she was less likely to get caught. Fewer people saw the work but that was fine by her.
When finally a hatching came it was the clutch of a Purple by the name Salfinth. Quite excited, Ailys was, however, caught by surprise by the actual hatching. She'd been in the lower caverns painting when the call came for the candidates. After a mad dash to the candidates barracks to change and another mad dash to the sands, she realized that she was, perhaps, unfortunately late. But there she was, waiting for her as though she knew that the young woman would arrive. Sylfith, a little white dragon with darkblue markings. The two had a strong and instant connection and the bond between dragon and rider was formed.
Adoption?: NPC only
