A tall and slender woman, easily towering above others with a height that can only be expressed as awkward amongst other people. Still, she carries herself with an honest grace. Her strawberry blonde hair, a wealth of gorgeous waves and curls, has been pulled up in a long hair knot style tumbling down over her shoulders like a stream of sunlight. Her eyes are the color of the darkest blue ocean, with tiny flecks of gold within that blue. She is clad in a muted indigo dress, dappled with the twinkling colors of the tiny gems in her jeweled belt. Upon closer inspection one sees that each of the stones holds a miniscule graven dragon. The folds of her dress gently sweep down to elegantly sandaled feet, with the hems just barely kissing the floor.

An intricate knot of dark and light greens, threaded with gold and tassled with silver adorns her left shoulder- indicating that she is a Jr. Weyrwoman of Ierne WeyrHold.


Kerys was introduced to the world sometime during the twilight hour after Turnover…just as their little camp of wagons was being battered by the worst rainstorm in memory. Or at least that's what her grandmother had told her. She seemed to take most of her pleasure from telling everyone how much better or worse or bigger or smaller everything had been when she was young, so if she said the howling winds and driving rain that lasted for sevendays on end were the most ferocious she had ever experienced, Kerys felt it must have been true. Besides, no one argued with grandmother.

Life with the Southern Caravan provided a nonstop flurry of new sights, smells and tastes for the young girl. There was gossip to be heard, funny new beasts to be tended, redfruit to pick, and best of all, pretty stones to collect. Maybe it was the mysterious glimmer light in them, maybe it was the comforting weight they had when they sat in her palms, or maybe it was because she swallowed her grandmother's handfasting ring when she was but a tot… either way there was just something so irresistible about them. Even at five, she was always the first youngling to volunteer to help carry the customer's purchases in hope that she would get some new addition to her collection in return. Most folk were puzzled and amused by the girl's obsession, but tried to humor her by including an interesting pebble or two that they ceremoniously plucked from the ground with their marks as "tip". Even with her growing collection of beloved special stones, things weren't always without hardship for Kerys however. It was not easy to be fatherless amongst the caravans. And it always stung for the youngster to hear her friends bickering over what each other's papa could do better. At least they had a papa. They had a papa to carry them on their shoulders, to spin them around until they were breathless, to toss them up high to soar like dragons. She didn't. But she did have the best mama. Her mama, Katra, was the caravan leader and the best Weaver in the South—in all of Pern in fact. (At least in young Kerys' opinion) No one could mix colorways as well or sew as delicately as she did. But despite all their wives ravings about Katra's wares, there were some menfolk who weren't comfortable dealing with a woman's caravan. It just didn't seem decent. "How can /you/ be their leader? It isn't right. A proper caravan always needs a man to keep it together…" To this nonsense her mother always replied that if they wanted to wait for a more ‘proper’ caravan they were welcome to wait- through the winter. Few were stubborn enough to refuse trade in the end. (Thanks in most part to the threats from their wives).

Whenever Kerys asked about her father, Katra would become vague and avoid answering her daughter's questions directly. As time went on, the little girl sometimes would wake in the night at some noise outside, and peering through the cracks in the wagon's wall she would see a tall, blonde haired man sitting by the campfire. Once he was holding Katra's hand. Another time he was kissing her. Kerys had wanted to kill him. She wanted him to come live with them. She was angry at him for only coming at night when she was in bed and could not get to know him. She wanted him to love her. But she never saw him again after that night.

Part II:

When Kerys was 10, Katra died suddenly in her sleep. She simply wouldn't wake up. Kerys was frantic and pleaded and screamed but to no avail. It was devastating. Grandmother had passed only two months before. And now she was alone. After the burial, many of the caravan members offered her a place in their wagons, but she refused. She didn't want to lose her last connection to what little family she had—her wagon. It was tradition: (more often at handfastings than deaths admittedly) if she were to join another family's wagon, they would get the right to her wagon too. And she just didn't want to have other people living in her mama's wagon. Well, it was her wagon now… and it was her caravan too. But she was technically still too young to lead it, and it was highly unprofitable. Who would be willing to trade with a girl /child/'s caravan? Eventually, they all agreed upon continuing to Xanadu Hold, which was less than a day away, and making the ultimate decision as to who would lead there.

Long after they had pulled into the hold and set up camp for the night, Kerys was startled awake to hear an urgent knocking on her wagon's door. She was even more surprised to find a winded dragonrider standing outside when she opened it. Even with the poor light shed between their two candles, she could tell that he had been weeping. Katra? Katra was really gone? He asked. She wordlessly nodded and awkwardly ushered him in from the cold. Who was this dragonman, and what did he care for her mother, a Trader? It wasn't as if they had known him, she thought. Or had they…? Thanks to the better illumination of the small glow baskets inside the wagon she was able to inspect him more easily, and he her. She gasped. It was he, the man she had seen kissing her mother so many years ago. He was lean, and though there were deep lines in his face, she could tell he had once been very handsome. She also noticed that the hair that had seemed so golden was shot through with silver. His eyes were deep-set and bluer than the finest sapphires. He haltingly began to explain that he was Varyck- V'ryck- bronzerider of Orhlanth of Ista Weyr and that he was…was… her father. How could she respond to this? She was glad for her heart reached out to this man even in those brief glimpses of him that she had had so long ago. But she also felt great anger that he had not been with her while she was growing up, had not been there for mama when those other men spoke meanly to her. She wanted to hit him. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted to say all that, but didn't know how. "Where were you?" She whispered at last. "I never knew," he said brokenly. "Not until now…Today. She never said a word. But then I suppose she was afraid…that I'd take you away. Like when the Weyr took me."

V'ryck and her mother had grown up together in that very same caravan. They were best friends, and then one day more than that. But then the Search quickly changed everything. He couldn't refuse- it just wasn't done. Yet he couldn't take her with, because she wasn't Searched. So, he visited and wrote to her when he could, but after awhile the responses got fewer and far between. And then there was nothing. Then one afternoon when he received a message telling him that she loved him, but it that it would best if he never wrote or saw her again. Confused and angry, he flew well into the night looking for the caravan. He scoured the routes he had known since he was a child. Again, nothing. It was as if they had simply disappeared into between. Finally, after a couple of turns of on and off seeking, he found them. He'd run to Katra, kiss her, question her, but she would always smile sadly and send him away in the end. No, she couldn't leave with him; she had the caravan to take care of. And he couldn't stay because wasn't he needed at the Weyr? Fed up and hurt, he left for the last time. Or so he thought. Until he overheard some drunk traders in the tavern making a toast in honor of who they thought would be the best /man/ to finally take over as caravan leader now that Katra was dead. And that that brat of hers would be easy to be rid of, pretty little thing as she was, despite her unsettling blue eyes. It didn't take long for V'ryck to piece it all together, and he ran to the camp as fast as he could to see for himself. His daughter.

Kerys couldn't help but snort when she heard V'ryck mention the way the men had described her eyes. His eyes. Yes, they were the same; she couldn't deny that. She finally had a father, but now what? V'ryck suggested that since the traders obviously had no love of the idea of her leading the caravan, why didn't she stay behind with him? So the following morning she announced just that: she would leave the caravan to whomever they saw fit to lead, provided that she would be able to keep her wagon and the dreyrunner with her. Needless to say, the traders were pleasantly shocked but eagerly agreed to her proposal. It was a little awkward at first, but Kerys and V'ryck were able to spend the next turn catching up and getting to know each other. Kerys remained at Xanadu to apprentice with the resident GemSmith, while V'ryck flew in every chance he got. Her apprenticeship seemed to go by in a blur, and the next thing she knew, she was walking the tables with her friends. Her posting? Fort Weyr. Oh the north, it was so exciting! Would she get to see snow? Was it really as cold as between? Would she…? Could she… what if…? She prattled on all the way through packing, and only stopped twice: once to say goodbye to Antanas, her dreyrunner, and then to adjust her riding straps once she was a-dragonback.

Part III:

Despite its cooler climate, Fort Weyr quickly became home for Kerys. It was rich in interesting people /and/ stones! Armed with her newfound palatte of colorful rocks and minerals as well as her hard-earned Journeyman's knot, she slowly began to make a name for herself as a GemSmith. Her meticulous attention to detail, especially with handfasting rings, garnered much attention from the womenfolk from both hold and weyr. Her embellishments to riding straps were both elegant and sturdy. So it was with great surprise when a visiting rider from Telgar decided to not only pick up his newly ornamented straps but her as well! A clutch was on the sands at Telgar, and they were in sore need of a variety of candidates.'Well, why not?' she thought. It would certainly humour her father once and for all, and if nothing happened she could always go back to her gems. Accepting, Kerys packed her things for Telgar. Days passed and the eggs hardened. There were so many chores to do, it was like being an apprentice again, but she didn't mind. Finally in the middle of the night then the dragons began to hum. Kerys scrambled like an addled wherry but made it to stand with the other candidates. She watched intently as the eggs rocked and cracked to spill forth their contents onto the hatching ground sands. Distracted by the fleeting thought of recreating the Impression moments of her friends around her in miniature carvings, she very nearly forgot that she was a candidate herself…that is until she received a very painful elbow in the stomach from a nervous looking girl. 'She's coming straight for you!' Still only able to wheeze incoherently, poor Kerys barely had a chance to straighten out her towering form before being hit again -this time backwards- by the largest hunk of gold ore she had ever encountered in her life. Only it wasn't just that, it was a living, breathing, beautiful, hungry, beautiful, HUNGRY hunk of gold ore.

Prima Donna Silberklang Gold Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Kerys, and steps forward. You experience an indescribable feeling as a dragonet turns and looks at you…. you feel a consciousness merge with yours, becoming part of you, and still apart… then you realize you can hear a voice in your head…

«I am Quvianth,» she offers primly. «Surely I would make a far better subject for your little carvings, no?»

Kerys left the bowl that night with at least two cracked ribs and a brusied tailbone, but the shock of everything that had just happened thankfully took care of the pain. That and she had someone else's needs to think of. A very precious someone to cherish and feed…and polish…and feed…

After Kerys had sufficiently healed, she and Quvi began their weyrlinghood in earnest. Learning the ins and outs of the dispatch was especially demanding, with Kerys often working well into the night. Balancing that work with caring for a growing dragon was doubly difficult. Even so, she genuinely enjoyed it. Was she mad? Possibly. She liked to think that her past experience as a 'Forging Ever Onward' Smith helped just a little bit. Smiths could be more stubborn than dreybeasts at times, but they did their work and did it well. After graduation Kerys and Quvianth were offered a posting at Ierne WeyrHold. The task? Some dispatch work yes, but also the opportunity to possibly do some watchriding over her old territory- the Southern Caravan trade routes. Mauraders had recently become increasingly bolder in their attacks on traders. Perhaps the traders would be more receptive to a rider of their ilk? Plus, V'ryck would be on hand to help too- along with a few more Tradebred riders from the other weyrs. Kerys' response was an overwhelming and enthusiastic 'Yes!' After so many turns, she could go home to the South.


Name Relation Location Position Dragon
V'ryck Father Ista Weyr Bronzerider Bronze Orhlanth


Bronze Sarastro, Brown Nemorino, Green Coppelia


Gold Quvianth

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