Name: Toylon, T'lon
Gender: Male
Age: 45ish
Origin: Dawnlight - Blackstone
Family: the Eriksons! Fraternal twin sister Joylon
Other Relations: has sired two pairs of twins, boys Riston and Roston with Iris and girls Iyola and Iyona with Irii - the Meddish girls are also twins, this is getting repetitive!
Height: 5'10"
Build: sturdy, upright
Hair: fluffy black mohawk
Eyes: dark brown
Appearance: creamy skin, adorably cute heart shaped face; medium Silver caste Star(fleet) crafter uniform

Toylon is among the twins of a very large family, brother to various 'lon's around Dawnlight.

Toylon is now sixteen turns old, and has watched his elder brother Epsilon become Ep'son on his unique bronze-white. The starcrafter harbors no jealousy but... Oh so wishes to fly himself!

How else could he get closer to the very stars? Ever since his twelfth turnday, he has resided with the other starcrafters at Dawnlight studying books and scrolls, maps and charts.

All to the betterment of his craft, but... Still...

As Toylon studies he knows that his chances of impressing grow weaker by the turn. But he still remains diligent in his chart making and his spy-glass-viewing. The starstones at Blackstone Weyr and Alabaster Weyrhold entrance him so much. He's visited both (along with the others in the crafters class) and knows that he'd be able to secure a good post at any weyr -- or Hold, of course...

"But I want to fly," Toylon said, rolling the threadfall chart back into its tube. "It's my goal. I don't think it's so hard to imagine me on a dragon."

"It's hard to imagine you on the back of anything, Toylon, you're not exactly a 'little' lad, you know." The craft master chided. But then he saw the sad look on Toylon's still-boyish face, and placed his bony hand on the lad's shoulder. "I meant nothing by that, Toylon. You're already a fine Journeyman in our craft. You'd be up for your mastery sooner if you left off these thoughts of flying dragons."

"But we have our craft to aid the dragons!" Toylon blurted out. His eyes were half-filled with tears, and red-rimmed. "It's why we DO what we do! So that the dragons can fly where they're needed!"

The master nodded, slowly. "... Yes, Toylon, you're correct. They would get to the thread, but it might be too late in some cases. Unless every Hold had a dragon on watch for it."

"But that isn't the case," Toylon muttered, dragging his hand over his face in embarrassment. What if someone saw him in tears over the dragons? ... So what if they did?

He looked back at the short, rail thin man who was his master. "I must stand, somewhere. Even if I don't impress. I would rather know, than never even know one way or the other."

The master nodded, blinking and looking away. How many young folk had wished to know, and found out to their sorrow that they weren't to be cut out for the dragons after all?

Yet... Toylon struck him as an honest, hard working lad. Even if he didn't impress he did always have a very strong background in the star charts, and any weyr with him attending their star stones would be well-warned.

"I will check into it for you, lad. You get down to the glass craft chambers and see if those lenses we've asked for are ready now."

Toylon did as he was bid, and only when the master was around a corner did he let off a half-elated, half-desperate cry of "thank you..."

The eggs were so much harder than Toylon had expected. He had gotten to the Weyr just in time, it looked like. He barely had the time to introduce himself to the weyrwoman, the rider of the dam of this clutch he was to stand at, and the other candidates, before the eve of the hatching.

It was late at night, of course. The hum went up and Toylon was ready. He was rarely asleep at night, prefering to be up late to view the stars. When the dragons hummed, his heart hummed along with them.

The green and her mate were wary but friendly to the candidates. When the first egg hatched it was a blue, and he was quite nice. He walked to the boys and took his choice off the sands with a creel of delight. Then, a green chose her female candidate as her rider. A brown and a blue hatched soon after, and it wasn't a surprise that both of them chose girls as their lifemates -- though a brown, choosing a girl? She must be something special indeed!

But then... Three eggs cracked, and the blue and brown headed toward the boys. Their green sister remained where she was. The brown chose his mate, first. Then, the blue walked in front of the boys, making them squirm. But something inside Toylon flew already. The whirling eyes turned a misty grey-green before settling into a brilliant teal of happiness.

You are just right for me. I was awake all night waiting for this moment!

"His name is..." T'lon faltered, what is it? FADITH! "Fadith!" He cried, as the dragonet followed him out to the food and the new life they would share.

"Fadith, you can't be serious. We just washed you!" T'lon whined. The other riders in the weyrling wing snickered, and T'lon aimed a harsh look at the nearest one.

You're making me seem like a holder lord or something, Fadith, you can get dirty once in a while and just live with it, can't you!?

I do not like being dirty, at all, T'lon, and I wish to be bathed now!

"Fadi, you are insufferable. If you want to be bathed, you're going to have to go down to the lake and do it yourself." T'lon finally put his foot down. The weyrling master grinned, that was a good sign in his eyes, since the blue would probably walk all over the soft-hearted starcrafter if he gave him half a chance.

Fadith lowered his long head down, and T'lon scratched his eye ridge.

"I mean it, Fadith. If you think I'm going to spend another candlemark washing off a little mud, you're crazy!"

It is not a little mud! We are covered!

"You have a TINY SPOT of mud on your tail! Go wash it off yourself!" T'lon exclaimed, surprising most of the weyrling pairs. "It's just a little mud! Mud is fun!"

Mud is dirty! And I am NOT a brown, I am a blue, and I do not wish to look like a dirty colored brown! The dragon bespoke, and in a huff went down to the lake, and gave himself a cursory bath, then came back -- drenched and dripping -- to the weyrling's ledge.

"See how easy that was?" T'lon said, but regretted it when the dragon shook his wings off, splashing cold water on him and everything else in the weyr!

I like to fly here. It is very clear!

"The skies are great!" T'lon said, cheerfully. But their happy sweep was cut short when the signs of Threadfall began near one of their patrol stops. They betweened back to the Weyr, and then loaded up with firestone.

I hate this stuff, Fadith bespoke bitterly, while chewing the coal. The feeling was mutual, since T'lon could 'taste' nearly every last bit of it. He knew the blue dragon was just doing it to be somewhat vindictive...

They flew away with the wing, and combated until they were exhausted. That wasn't nearly as long as some of the other blues, but they had an excuse of course, they had been on sweep in the first place.

Finally, when Threadfall was over, they met up with the others in the wing, and ... Said their good byes.

"It's been good with you guys on our wing," announced one of the senior weyrlings, "But... You've got a good chance at your Protectorate."

"The Currier wing will be splitting up into different wings soon," T'lon said, "That's what Shard said."

It was true, the wing had grown in the years that it was formed, and was now filling up with better Starcrafters and differently-directed Curriers. The two wings would be complimentary of course, and could fly together if they had to.

T'lon and Fadith would be in the Sky's Limit wing, with the rest of the Starcrafters and some odd glass workers here and there in it as well. Experts, they would fly the skies around Pern and make sure that everyone knew just when and where Thread was falling.

So they picked up their things, harness and mementos, and went off to the Protectorate's isle, to meet their destiny.

They actually... didn't remain on Pern long - but then neither did Istabitha's!