Zafney never knew her parents, particularly, but she knew of them. They'd been spoken of in reasonably reverent terms around the crafthall, many of the older inhabitants could tell stories about Zafney's father at least. He was a bit of a rogue, apparently, with women - seeking out those who he fancied rather a lot like a dragonrider would in a Weyr. That kind of thing wasn't really acceptable in a Hall, but he was charming and handsome or so they said. Enough so that when he and half a dozen others were killed in a ground-quake that destroyed an entire wing of the crafthall, his dalliances with married women and ranking Ladies could be excused in memoram.

But Zafney was accepted into the Hall because she was bright, polite and sensible. She knew her lessons, learned ballads and had a strong singing voice that her Masters enjoyed testing. All had gone pretty well and she'd just been promoted to Senior Apprentice, learning a more complicated set of tunes for her flutes.

It was a bit of a surprise, therefore, when one day a member of the scribners and recordskeeping staff approached her with an oddly familiar boy.

"He's your brother," she said, "well, half brother anyway," the boy grinned widely. He was a few years younger than Zafney, named Zarut and clearly would take after their father. "We hadn't realized that the infant left after the quake was your family, but we couldn't account for him any other way."

So, Zafney and Zarut were suddenly 'family'. Thankfully, both of them inherited their father's pleasant and charming way with people. They didn't have a lot in common, really. Zafney was an adept harper, while Zarut knew his way around the leather craft. He and she exchanged information - though Zarut wasn't all that good at memorizing lyrics, and sang so badly off-key that Zafney knew her musical ability came from her mother. It was just as well, because Zafney managed to stab herself sharply with a leather-needle, and didn't much want to trust her hands to the craft again.

A few weeks after Zarut's fourteenth birthing day celebration, dragons visited the crafthall, and as all young people were expected to, they lined up out in the dragonflats for examination by their riders.

Zafney noted well the profound disappointment when she and her brother were chosen - the Masters truly wished she could stay.

"She'll sing," Zarut asserted, happily. "She's really good at it, I bet her dragon will love it!"

"That's if I impress," Zafney chuckled, nervous. They packed up and bid their friends and foster family good-bye, and headed to a much different place from their flat, unimpressive homeland. Isla Weyr was lush, lovely, and simply radiating with dragons. It had some odder things too, but the pair could only see as far as the eggs on the sands - a small clutch, with a reasonably odd pair parenting it.

"She's not so ... very gold, is she?" Zafney whispered. Her brother nodded.

"And her mate's not so really brown, is he?" He whispered back. But they would stand proudly - one of the search riders who took them here belonged to another Weyr, Dragonhope, where it was assumed they would head when their training was done here.

***

"Blue, blue, green, green, definitely green," Zarut was chanting, and Zafney nudged him and gave a bit of a scowl.

"What are you doing?" They were in the dining hall, and both of them had hearty appetites after their chores helping the weyrlings and learning about dragons all day.

"I'm guessing who's gonna impress what rank," Zarut shrugged, digging into his tubermash and gnawing a chunk of wherry.

"Only the dragons know," Zafney rolled her eyes and ate a little more carefully than her brother.

The next day during exercises and training, the hatching eggs were announced! Everyone scampered back into their dorms, donned their traditional white robes, and shuffled back to the hatching sands to wait it out.

They didn't have to wait too long, two blues hatched almost the same moment. One paired off after a bit of a scuffle with another candidate, and then a third blue showed his head. Zarut was caught off guard when the one plopped himself down and looked him in the eye. I am Sengoth. I am hungry. The blue blinked, leaning his head in closer when his rider didn’t move under his demands. Hey! Z’rut! Snap out of it!

Zafney smacked him on the arm and he jumped. “Oh, yeah! Right…sorry,” he added in a sheepish mutter. The look of shock was gone – a beaming smile of one newly Impressed had replaced that.

Several minutes passed, the other blue had found his companion nearby. Then, the sad creeling of a baby dragonet shocked everyone - it was a white, but it turned out it had a twin who'd never made it out of the shell. She impressed, though, and eventually that sad moment of truth - that not all dragons survive their hatching - was forgotten. But another egg had hatched, apparently the last live one of this small clutch, a green wobbled on the sands as the body of the other dragonet was removed by the winged wolves.

Would this little green search aimlessly until her rider found her? Or would she find her rider and end the hatching quickly?

It proved to be the later as the daring little green walked proudly up to Zafney and sat down with affirmative authority. Grinning ear to ear Zafney hugged the green to her chest until the dragonet squeaked and wiggled her way out of her grasp. “Oh, yeah! Right. This way, Kihroth!” Pleased that her rider understand that she had a great need for food, the green left the sands behind her rider, walking proudly and with a happy bounce to her step.

They met up with Z'rut, who proudly announced his name to his sister and her bond. The blue would be much bigger than his clutch sibling, that was for sure, but they would both take to the skies soon enough!

Zarut(Z'rut) & blue Sengoth

Color Size: blue
Adult Length: 29'2"
Adult Height to Shoulder: 8'2"

Zafney &green Kihroth

Color Size: green
Adult Length: 22'10"
Adult Height to Shoulder: 6'5"

Weyrling practice took a lot out of both siblings as well as their dragons. It was exhausting work, learning to lug around sacks filled with stones, continue oiling and cleaning the dragons, looking over their wing sails for any damage in training. But after a while, it all became second nature. Zafney, it turned out, had an excellent memory for field moves, translating easily into airborne exercises when they did finally start flying.

Z'rut and his blue were quick in the air, Sengoth enjoying the sure hands of his rider rubbing just the right muscles after each flight.

With the influx of new dragons and riders going to Dragonhope - and Threadfall looming weekly - it was decided that while both Zafney and Z'rut would be in fighting wings on occasion, they fell in place with the Pintu Anjin - the wing which held crafters, construction people, and others with skills that couldn't afford to be lost. Z'rut's skill with leatherwork certainly translated well into the Weyr's needs: he was never at a loss for what to be doing with his hands, as there was always leather to be fixed up or fittings to be made on dragons' harnesses.

Zafney on the other hand, enjoyed being called upon for in-flight training - her skill at music helped to train an entire wing for fast changes in direction and who was to follow what wingleader. She was given three whistles, tied together and almost always found around her neck, and with those she could sharply instruct those who were too far away to hear.

And her dragon did sing, loudly sometimes. Zafney enjoyed evenings with the other riders now, collecting their thoughts and writing short ballads about each of her new friends. Z'rut quickly learned to read and do simple math during their stay at Isla, though he found he was far more comfortable still working with his hands.

Status: Guild Born
Age: 17; 14
Gender: female; male
Siblings: one half-sibling from their father's side
Legitimacy: born to unmarried parents
Fostered due to: both parents died
Childhood Health: very sturdy
Adult Height: an average-height person
Adult Build: thin as a twig
Skin Tone: fair; medium
Hair Color: strawberry blond
Hair Style: curly; frizzy
Hair Length: to high back; short
Eye Color: dark brown; redbrown
Literacy Level: are able to read and write fairly well; illiterate
Politeness Level: they are known for being extremely polite and deferential to their superiors and others; not remarkably polite but not openly rude
Focus: they enjoy their work on the whole; hard worker
They are attractive
They are known for being very giving and generous

Values and Goals
Values immensely: their wooden musical instrument; a whittling / carving knife set
Has fun with: a Guild hall; a dragonry
Very strong goal: learn; locate something lost
Extremely strong fear: an ancestral enemy
A strange key is in their posession; a badly worn but easily read map

Crafting Guild: Harper - general, Status: senior apprentice; Tanner - apprentice
Other Skill picked up around Guild folk: tannery; beastcraft
Odd Skill (learned outside of craft if any): club or stick fighting; cartography

Originally From: plainsland community
Location size: smallish
Location climate: stormy
Searched: this morning