Light golden hair has been grown out to mid-shoulder blades. Falling in smooth curls, the hair fluffs out around her face, with some shorter bangs snipped to coil around her forehead and eyesight. Her face is still round with baby-fat and with a pointed chin, yet still proportional to her small physique; she is much shorter than others her age with fewer curves than most women her age, though they have begun to become more pronounced. She's fair skinned with no visible blemishes on her face and sports a small nose and thin lips. There is one mark on her skin: a thin red scar that stretches across her throat, visible when looking closely. Her eyes are a clear sky blue that can be unnerving when combined with a narrow-eyed glare; such a pale color that would border on white on a bright day. Her eyes are framed by long lashes and her brows are generally low and straight on her face.

Her small frame has a thin crimson tank top for the warmer Istan days, long enough to occasionally hide the belt around her slim waist. Strapped to the belt is a new jeweled beltknife, its blue sapphires clearly visible on the hilt. She has dark brown hide trousers that look new, snugging her thin legs comfortable and finally tucked into short sepia boots that have been well-worn throughout the turns and occasionally caked in mud. Not far from her is usually a matching dark riding jacket, still smelling like new leather.

On her shoulder is a Wingrider's knot from Ista Weyr, with a brown thread for her lifemate Zaruath and a wing patch on her jacket for Ocean Sapphire.

She is physically based off of Emilie de Ravin (just much shorter, I imagine).



Born in Telgar Weyr to greenrider Rupa and brownrider F'ran as a result from a maiden flight, she was the image of a Weyrbrat. She was raised among her parents instead of being fostered out with the other Weyr's children in Telgar Weyr. Her young life was spent always exploring with her mother, as her father, an assistant weyrlingmaster, was too busy to be left alone with her when he had to take care of weyrlings. She had brief encounters with people her age among the lower caverns when they were home, but she still spent time by herself or with her parents and their dragons. When off in the field with her mother, she spent it camping out and grew familiar with hunting and other necessities.

When she was nearly 13 turns, her father grew ill and eventually passed away. After another turn of coping, she followed her mother to Ierne. Once there, her mother grew restless with her work and decided to ask her brother, a Herder at Western Weyr, to take care of Fyra. Fyra, old enough to be on her own, did not complain too much as she left, unsure about where her place will be in the new environment.

Not long after settling into Western and with a new clutch on the sands, she was asked to stand. The candidacy was going by normal, with Fyra's excitement growing closer to the hatching. Except she never made it to the sands. Not long before the eggs cracked, during a masquerade party, Fyra was kidnapped by pirates. After being taken to their current island base, tied up with some other hostages, and followed by a few rounds of torturing the young teen, she was finally rescued. But she was brought home with new scars, part of her hair shorn off (which she finished off herself), and plenty of nightmares.

While she harbored a hatred towards some people, particularily the Weyrleader, she plotted revenge. Or at least a lot of sulking in the stables while helping her Uncle Tyrrol or wandering off alone (even after being kidnapped). One day while at the beach, she found a firelizard clutch hatching and came home to the Weyr with a little orange-gold tucked into her pocket; soon after the firelizard was never found away from the girl's side, becoming her new best friend Cachucha.

By surprise, a bronzerider from Ista Weyr that needed help with his runner soon found himself having to calm his raging dragon outside by demanding the girl go out. Fyra, stubborn as always, had only agreed to stand just close enough for scrutiny and then shortly thereafter asked to stand again for Ista's clutch by a disgruntled rider. Candidacy there was full of old faces, new faces, and many surprises. And although she had many doubts on whether she was ready to be a rider, a dark disfigured brown Zaruath decided that she was enough for him on hatching day.


Name Relation Location Position
Rupa Mother Fort Weyr Greenrider
F'ran Father ::Between:: Deceased
Tyrrol Uncle Western Weyr Weyrherder
Soleil Aunt Telgar Weyr Greenrider



Marmalade Gold Cachucha
Sticky sour-sweet goodness coalesces into the form of this lady gold. Her personality looks to match the marmalade hue of her hide in moments of sheer shrill demand offset by the sweet trill of loving patience. Her build is average for a firelizard, not so heavy set as some of the larger colors, but neither light and frilly as many greens seem to be. She settles right in the mid range, pleasantly toned muscles carrying strength without being overly burdensome or bulky. Proportions are spot on, and if ever there was a gauge for firelizard kind she could very well be it. The orangy-gold hue of marmalade coats her unevenly, with bits of orange nad lemon rind spotting here and there. Most prominent are the bits which seem to form the ridges upon her neck and tail. Wings are a thin spread of the concoction, glossy and true they look heavy yet remain light and silky as any wingsail around and provide a beautiful pattern for the light to filter through.


Stranger Than You Dreamt It Brown Zaruath
Volcanic ash stains the hide of the abnormally thin brown dragon, highlighting the dull muddiness of his hide and emphasising his skeletal look - every muscle and bone that goes to make up his frame can be easily seen and counted through his lacklustre hide. His forehead is overgrown, nose shortened an upturned at the end, and each dusted with dust-like specks of white. His haunches shade more towards black coffee, an oil-like sheen streaking down the back of each leg, while his tail appears to have been dipped in molasses. Huge glassy wings, almost devoid of colour and definitely too large for his frame, shimmer in the slightest light, casting an odd haze around him and across his brittle alabaster talons.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License