Character type: Weyrling
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 13
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Everyone needs love! (When she’s older)


Arlafinne (or rather Fin as she commonly goes by) is a pretty girl who absolutely adores her own femininity. Pants are an annoying necessity that she’ll bear as if they’re the ultimate burden, and anything in ‘flowery’ is her favourite. Of course, her options tend to be fairly limited as her family can’t exactly afford expensive clothes so she cherishes the few items she has that are a little nicer and Faranth forbid someone get any muck any of them!

For an islander she’s awfully pale and is often at risk of burning in the heat, though she has managed to tan a couple times in her life. She keeps her auburn hair long and often twisted up in elaborate patterns (decorated with flowers and ribbons of course!). Its wavy and prone to tangling, though that’s really not a problem with the amount of time she spends taking loving care of it.

Though not overly tall yet, there’s signs that she won’t be a bad height when she matures. Spending her childhood chasing siblings, running around beaches and on decks of boats gave her a measure of youthful strength. She won’t be winning any arm wrestles with the boys or anything, but she gets along just fine.


Fin always thought it would be the best to be a fancy lady, some great, poised princess of a hold who looks after everyone. Its not so much that she cares about the riches of that position (though they seem mighty lovely), but she wants to be in a place to be able to do some real good on the world. This translated pretty easily into the idea of riding a dragon for the same purpose. Like the rest of her family Fin is as good-natured and kind as you could ever hope. She has a heart of pure gold that’s probably bedazzled with fine jewels and covered in glitter. She loves strongly and unbiasedly, happy to try to bring joy or help to anyone that needs it. She really would give the shirt off of her back to anyone. She’s about as laid back as you can get, rarely ruffled and doesn’t seem to know how to hold onto much sadness for any length of time. Although she has occasionally been pushed into a rare outburst of anger, but she always feels terribly ashamed after the fact.

There’s a great love for knowledge and culture in this girl and she’s fascinated by the workings of other types of folks out there. There’s a special fondness for the higher-born, with their prim and fancy ways, though it does tend to clash a bit with her rough and tumble upbringing. She grew up wrestling with the family pigs and picking good-natured wars with the neighboring children and swimming in the rough seas. Afterwards though she’d always try to host extravagant teas, forcing her siblings and friends into mock-finery and nice manners.

She tends to live in a bit of a fantasy world, flitting around and pretending to be things she isn’t. Or at least, adding some grandeur to life around her. Its a bit childish, but there’s part of her that stubbornly clings to her youth. Naturally she was forced to grow up quickly and shoulder responsibility, but when she has the luxury she’ll happily fall into the role of a plucky young girl who just wants to enjoy her innocence.

She’s not ignorant though. Call it successful parenting, but she was raised to understand that life is just difficult sometimes, and that things will happen that are terrible, but there is also great beauty to it all. She has a mature understanding that things live and they die. In a small homestead loss is a regular part of life and though she feels for them, she understands that this is just how its supposed to be. There is an old soul sort of acceptance here and though it hurts, she will stubbornly do what she can to find the good.

At least, as far as everything else goes anyway. She really doesn’t seem to believe that the rules of life and death apply to her. She’s going to do *good* things, there’s no way she’ll die anytime soon! Maybe its just a young person’s misguided certainty that they’re invincible, or maybe she’s just in some thorough denial, but it will be one hell of a struggle for her when the truth of dragonriding slaps her in the face. There’s a survivor’s spirit in there though and though fighting isn’t her first option for anything she’ll rise to the challenge of Threadfall with ferocity. Because, well, she doesn’t *want* to die and she doesn’t want her dragon or anyone else to die. Its a part of life and she’ll accept that, but she won’t go down without a fight.

Its likely no one will ever understand how truly perfect she and Helvonth are for each other. She is his light in the darkness, the thing that makes every fight worth fighting and every death worth grieving. When Fin does come to terms with her own mortality and duty he will be the rock she can stand on, the support that any innocent young person would need when they realize that their role in life is likely to die painful and bloody. Their gritty determination is well matched, though hers is the will to survive while his is true acceptance of death and together they are balanced. They may not even realize how badly they need each other. Fin keeps the hope and love in the world going, while Helvonth shoulders the burden of reality.

Birthdate: 10.01


Arlafinne grew up in very loving home, with loving parents and siblings that went out of their way to look after each other. Her parents were firm, but kind and her brothers (because that’s all she head except for the baby that was eight turns younger) were good about humoring her. This was compromised by her not being too girly when she hung out with them and their friends. They cheerfully put her in trousers, called her Fin and taught her ins and outs of being one of the guys. Her family ran a small, independent bit of fishing business that specialized in finding those rare and hard-to-catch creatures that were often sought after by the rich or for special occasions. It sounded like it should have been a lucrative venture, but often it was only just enough. They were too small to make alot of catches, but they got by and they were happy with their lot in life. They were a stubborn family of survivors that weathered through any tough times with smiles on their faces.

Her most memorable day of her young life (before meeting Helvonth, of course) was when she actually got to sit down and speak with a dragonrider. She was hooked, fascinated by everything about them. How they lived, what they did, the little traditions of Ista Weyr… those sort of things. Her parents even managed to find her a ratty old book that may have been an outdated weyrling manual and the thing never left her sight until it fell apart beyond repair.

Fin was left mostly in the role of looking after her brothers and sister while the older folk were away doing business, at least until she was old enough to be included on these trips. Once she turned ten she was allowed on smaller ventures to the larger nearby holds and made friends wherever she went with her happy smile and sweet personality.

It wasn’t until after she was twelve that she was allowed on the trip she’d been dreaming about for Turns. They had a prime bit of culinary delicacies to bring to the upcoming Hatching and if they were very lucky they might even be allowed to stay and watch! They arrived the day before with Fin completely over the moons at finally seeing real dragons, but no one could have guessed that the nearby green would have decided that she should perhaps be a rider. Her parents and older brothers were floored and excited beyond all reason.

Fin was sent to speak to the man in charge of the candidates and put through a hasty assessment. There was doubt that she’d be up to snuff to stand right away, but she surprised him with her understanding. She was freshly new, yes, but she’d done her homework and had the right sort of desire and passion to be a rider. Besides, a kid that thought wrestling ‘river monsters’ was fun would probably be able to tough it out. She was ushered into the barracks late that evening and when the dragons started humming she went along with them in a white robe.

And when a sharp, grim little blue set himself in front of her it was as if the world before had been as gloomy as the storm outside. However anyone could live without a creature like this paired with them, she could never understand! He was perfect and she was in for on hell of an adventure.



Big and full of love and sparkly feels.


Dragon Name: Helvonth
Colour: Blue
Age: Baby
Weyr of Origin: Ista


Though a large blue dragon at adulthood, Helvonth is still only a blue – and yet he manages to cast a rather intimidating shadow anyway. He's a rather sharp-looking dragon, literally, with a long, pointed muzzle, somewhat jagged neckridges, razor-sharp talons and long wings that he's prone to snapping open dramatically when about to take flight. He looks like he's made to cut through air like a knife, and he moves that way, too – quickly, effortlessly, with an economy of motion. In contrast to his dangerous looks, his hide is a rather pretty shade of cornflower that blends nicely with the sky on hazy days. A blue-grey streak extends down his spine from his headknobs to just beyond the base of his tail, with a few thin, jagged stripes extending from it down his body on each side like tiger-stripes or lightning bolts that end right about the widest part of his torso.


Helvonth wouldn't call his worldview pessimism, he would call it realism – and, in some ways, he would be right. When it all comes down to it, he was bred and hatched specifically to perform one task not of his choosing: to spend his entire life fighting, risking life and limb day in and day out against a foe he has no hope of actually defeating permanently, on behalf of those not of his species, most of whom he will never meet, and who will never really understand him or his kind. He is less a thinking, feeling creature than he is a tool, a weapon of war no different than the flamethrowers the groundcrews carry upon their backs – the only real difference is that he at least has his rider to comfort and appreciate him. It sounds terribly bleak when put in those terms, but that's how Helvonth describes everything: to him, the world is a dreary place filled out only in shades of grey. It may be bright for other people – somewhere, he suspects – but he is merely an engine of war, and if there are rainbows in his skies, they aren't there for his benefit.

It may sound as if he is unhappy, or longs for something else, but that's just it: he doesn't. Helvonth may see things in a way that sounds terribly depressing to anyone who happens to listen, but he's also reasonably content with his lot in life. This is what he was designed to do, after all. It's lamentable that he doesn't really have any choice in the matter – that he must suffer so that others don't – but he can't deny that he is far better suited for it than those two-legged wingless delicate humans who fear Thread so much. In fact, he's more suited for it than many of his own kind! As a young hatchling he may seem like a bit of a slacking student, dragging himself through his assigned tasks, performing fair enough but in a lackluster sort of way, as if there isn't a drop of enthusiasm in him for a single moment of it… but as soon as aerial maneuvering begins, his true talent will surface. He is a natural in the air, quick and agile, with an amazing instinct for moving just exactly the way he needs to in order to do what he needs to do – whipping around to circle a clump, diving to evade and then coming up underneath. With only a little practice his flame will be deadly accurate, and if his rider is good enough to match him rather than holding him back, the pair will likely be highly sought-after by wingleaders with a good eye for young talent.

Just don't expect him to show any of the unbridled enthusiasm for fighting that many dragons do. War is not romantic or exciting – it is dark and hellish, and he takes no pleasure in it save for the knowledge that his work may spare someone else the horror. Beyond that, Helvonth has no interest in destruction, even of Thread, even though he's clearly a natural at it. He actually has a bit of a poet's soul, which may seem a little startling at first until you realize that it takes a special kind of creativity to be able to see all the darkest corners of the world the way that he does. For one who claims life is so bleak he is certainly talented at coming up with new and beautiful ways to describe all his ugly thoughts, and he never seems to tire of the sound of his own voice. Aside from that, he is typically polite and has a bit of a fondness for children and animals, cherishing them as bright beacons of innocence in a dark world (even as he predicts their inevitable tarnishing), and if his rider ever has children he will no doubt take an interest. He also values honor highly – if he must be an instrument of war, then by Faranth, he will be an honorable warrior, and he'll not tolerate any shady or dishonest behavior on the part of his rider or anyone else he makes acquaintance with. There is already enough ugliness on the battlefield, after all, and those who fight have a responsibility to keep it from leaking out into the world of the bright and innocent.

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