Always ‘Nala to weyrfolk

Character Type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 35
Gender: Female
Sexual Preference: Flexible


It’s hard to believe she’s a seasoned rider with more than two decades of experience, Jalnala hardly looks as if she’s seen two decades, let alone ridden for them. She seems to have faced aging with a particular obstinence even for a dragonrider and the credit can’t go entirely to the bond.

Nala has always had a bit of a baby face. Even as an adult there’s a certain softness there, lingering over the high curve of her cheekbones, her small pointed chin, so that nothing at all is chiseled or sharp and everything is youthful. Everything, from her big, dark eyes and mass of dark curls, to her diminutive adult height of 5’2.

Her maturity shows in her expressions, the mocking twist to her dimpling smile, the ironic light in her wide-eyed glance. This is her weyr and her people and she knows them inside and out. That attitude— the impish, knowing, gleam in her eyes— imbues the petite Istan with a edge all her own. Behind that youthful appearance is a sleek strength of both body and mind.


‘Nala. Everyone knows ‘Nala. Well, everyone Of a Certain Age.

Vibrant. Vivacious. Vicious.

Aggressively social, exhaustingly interested and inextricably involved. How can you wrap sentences around someone who is based so much on impulse? There isn’t any great mystery to Nala, no personal canon, no method to the madness. If anything, it might be said that she was always an eager, energetic girl and that the decades between Impression and Pass were long ones. Forced to subsist without anything so riveting as omnipresent life-or-death conditions, Jalnala turned her energies and attention on the weyr and its people.

She thrives on being charming, on being liked, being in-the-know, and she is in-the-know. Her cousin B’ziah may track the latest gossip by starting it, but she tracks it, hunts it down and roots it out from one of her wide network of Friends. Friends, she has rather a lot of them. The Interval was long and pleasant and between the joie-de-vivre and devil-may-care humors of her psyche Nala had, and has, a fatal charisma all her own. Her weyr is hardly ever empty, which suits her since she enjoys the company— and the tales.

Common Knowledge

Impressing as young as she did, Nala was practically raised in the wings, growing up as a dragonrider of the Interval. They taught her to drink like a man and blech hugely and they might have succeeded in raising her to be a boy if it weren’t for the fact that she was a 12 year old with a stipend and the freedom to buy ALL the pretty things she could want.
She apparently has a younger brother in Candidacy— or is that her son? Did she have a son? Eh.


Birthdate: 7.06
Birthplace: Ista Weyr

Nala had a happy, ramshackle upbringing in the weyr. Daughter of a laundress and her man of the hour, she was left to the creche and her own devices. An active, affectionate child, she spent most of her time tagging along after her older cousins and their friends, eager to be included in their games… even though that inclusion usually meant them playing keep away from ‘Nala or, once, locking her in a storeroom. She doesn’t remember that so much now. What she remembers is playing at dragonfighting in low tide, getting to be the Rider on B’ziah’s shoulders, grappling with T’berli on T’lenen’s; she remembers B’fadi reciting stories to her when she was seven and sick with the spots.

She never truly felt ditched until they began leaving her for candidacy. Sure, she had her agemates and the creche kids, but Tamberli was going through a moody phase and she’d never liked to play with the younger children. They were boring. Instead, Nala developed a habit of hanging around barracks, getting underfoot, hiding with the weyrlingmaster when the boys chased her off. The weyrling master had granddaughters of his own, not her of course, but he let her sit quietly in his office and draw on old hides and when she was a couple of months shy of her 12th birthday he let her dress in white and take the sands.

He hadn’t thought it’d amount to anything. He hadn’t counted on Lurinlith.

Nothing could trump Nala’s joy in Impressing, but the fact that a friend and two of her cousins found dragons in the same clutch completed her happiness. Not even Tamrel’s fury (incensed that a child other than her own had been allowed early onto the sands) could dim her pleasure.

Impression was good for her. She may only have wanted a dragon to keep up with The Boys, but she got much more in the bargain— the early Impression helped her to mature in her own right. Instead of spending a decade or so in the nebulous freedom of candidacy she was given, at eleven, a dragon to care for, duties to mind and no time to be a tagalong. The circumstances of her Standing didn’t escape her either. Nala worked hard, trying to live up to the weyrlingmaster’s regard, trying keep pace with her clutchmates— the eldest of whom was a full decade older than her. She grew up faster, learning to care for herself, by herself, even as she learned to care for Lurinlith. Chasing after The Boys was a thing of the past, she had to be one of them now.

Nala survived a hard weyrlinghood, becoming a full rider at 13 and she reveled in it. Her foster siblings were still cheek-to-jowl in the barracks and cavern dorms, while she had her very own weyr overlooking the sea. They were stuck playing the same silly old games in the 'bowl, while all of Pern was her oyster. It was a good time to be a rider, in the peace of the Interval. They drilled regularly and hard, but the foe had seemed an eternity away then and with each turn the clutches grew in size and the ranks of eager young riders swelled. They played new games, aerial games, and kept busy touring the protectorate on sweeps and inspections— and all the time they drilled, but she, like so many of her fellows, felt only a giddy excitement to be at the foe. They would learn dread and urgency later.

She had been so very excited to fly Thread for the first time. Like the Spring Games against the other weyrs…
Like the ballads…

Reality was much harsher.

Nala barely survived the initial engagement. Lurinlith was caught in the high winds off the coast and the pair slammed into the cliffside and down into the surf. Battered and half drowned they clung to the rocks amidst charred and bloated Thread until help arrived.

Despite the ordeal they were only kept grounded for a night and a day before rejoining the wings. The reports had grown increasingly bleak and neither Nala nor Lurinlith could rest when each keening cry announced the death of another playmate, cousin, friend. She lost many of her particular friends, the young gadabouts, the Children of the Interval.

It was a grey, nightmarish haze, those weeks before help arrived. Fighting winglight, against desperate odds, they were trying to mitigate losses— not save the world. Nala tries to repress it, that ugly time, but every strange new face is a reminder of a dear one lost.



Father: H'nalarn, rider of blue Taralth
Mother: Jysadi, Laundress
Siblings: Tavayna (Half)
Niefews: Tayva, T'vren, Lavyar, Vayari
Paternal Cousins: Sure!
Maternal Cousins: B'ziah, B'fadi, Kuvoka, others


Jalnahvi, Candidate (-16)
Whatshisname, Candidate (-18)
That’s it… right?

Friends & Lovers

Greenrider G'zark, wingmate and lifecoach
Brownrider T'berli, agemate and bud and nemesis
Bluerider B'ziah, cousin and bro
Bluerider B'fadi, cousin and bro
Greenrider R'selli, agemate and clutchmate
Bluerider G'bhardo, clutchmate and senpai and reacher-of-things-on-high-shelves
Bronzerider F'harin, agemate and ex-Friend ?¿?¿¿??
Bronzerider T'lenen, childhood crush
Greenrider Vofali, galpal and clutchmate


Bluerider Tamrel and her brood (sometimes)
Outsider Pricks


Dragon Name: Lurinlith
Colour: Green
Age: 23
Weyr of Origin: Ista Weyr
Weyrling Class: 8.429.4.14


“Psst. Hey, kid… Wanna wash a dragon?”

Quite large. Very big. HUGE. The joke is that when Nala stopped growing after her Impression it was because Lurinlith had taken over the growing for the both of them. Lurinlith is massive for a green, easily outstripping the smaller blues of the weyr. It isn’t fat or even muscle bulk, she’s built along the same svelte lines as her speedy sisters, only to a slightly larger scale as if the green simply started growing and forgot to stop. (The other joke within her hilarious weyrling class. 'Cause greenies are so featherbrained, right?)

Lurin is lovely shade of sea-green, like the shallows off Nerat Bay, and marbled lightly down her back with a pale, bright hue— and crisscrossed down her belly with the jags of silver scars. The day of the first Fall she struck the cliffs front first, sparing both her rider and her wings, but the rocks left their mark on the green and the scars require frequent oiling to keep the hide limber.

In the air she is a bit of a hybrid, her size necessitating the pair to learn and execute a mix of green and blue tactics. Weyrlinghood was not an easy time as they worked to identify and adapt to this and it was made even more difficult by the fact that Nala was just plain small and Lurin was getting larger and larger by the day.


The last and most popular jest that the pair fielded growing up was that Nala had so wanted to be ‘One of the Boys’ she’d gone and Impressed the closest green to a blue.

It isn’t just her size or sea-green hide, Lurinlith isn’t at all the flighty green of stereotypes. She’s remarkably steady and considerate, traits that served her well in adapting to her unusual growth and navigating her restless lifemate. She is simple, but by no means dim. Simple just means that Lurinlith has pared down the unimportant noise and doubt in life and dedicated herself to what’s left.

The big green has a wonderful, unshakeable brand of confidence in herself, in her rider. If things are not alright, then they will be, and at the end of the day the two of them will be together. She knows Nala sometimes gets anxious, caught up in the various dramas of the weyr and so she lingers, half a thought away, to cut through the emotional storm and nudge out the things Really Don’t Matter.

It’s important to note that ‘considerate’ doesn’t always mean ‘nice.’

Lurinlith has no desire to be the stereotypical green, the capricious, emotional creature, but there’s a part of her that understands the urge and the nature, and that part led her to Nala.

Common Knowledge

Perpetrator of notoriously long Flights. Known for striking and maintaining a slapping pace, Lurineth is the green bane of both the steady plodder and the quick burster. If she hits her stride chasers had better settle in for a long haul.

Joining the rut already drained from drills or fresh and stiff from a nap is not advised.

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