Location Ista Weyr
Position DeadSlutSon, Weyrling
Birthdate 8.435.5.12 (19)
Birthplace Ista Weyr
Sexuality Bicurious
Played-By Simon Woods
Aliases Braughanac, Chip, Kev
Player Siarna

K’vrett’s that boy that all the Aunties look at with approval. Puberty hit him a little hard, shooting him up in height in little under a turn. He’s long and lanky, with a little extra leg, and still a little awkward. He eats as if it’s his last meal on Pern, a throwback to family dinners that involved up to fourteen family members at any given time (he’s a growing boy and desperately needs seconds). So far his metabolism is fast enough to put up with his eating habits, and the hard work of being a weyrling leaves him just as famished as a starving dragonet. He’s not just thin, he’s narrow as well, with small shoulders and hips that won’t allow for him to become big or all that muscular.

Although he was born and raised in Ista Weyr, he’s obviously, painfully Northern, with pale skin that has a tendency to freckle and then burn in the sun instead of tan. His skin is dotted with freckles, with a particular splattering of them on his cheeks and across his nose. They frequent other places too, and it’s one of his favorite joke pick-up lines (unless of course it actually works). His face flushes rather easily, whether it’s because of sun exposure, exhaustion,or embarrassment. K’vrett’s hair is a bright, coppery-red, thick and with just a slight wave that hints of curls should he try to cut his hair. He had a few bad experiences regarding haircuts and shaved heads growing up, so he’s taken to growing out his hair. It falls just past his shoulders now, long enough for him to pull back in a bun or runner-tail should the need arise (and part . He’s taken to running his hands through his hair, as a nervous or fidgeting gesture. His eyes are typical for a redhead, a bright hazel-green and still a little overlarge on his narrow face.

There are hints that he may one day look a bit more like his Father than his lanky teenage body currently allows. One day he’ll thank his narrow shoulders and hips that he won’t turn out to be an exact replica of Braughan. As he ages, he’ll quickly realize just how similar he is in appearance to his Father (enough so that others may give him a second or third glance before realizing their mistake). He’ll spend most of his adult life trying not to look like Braughan, from keeping himself clean shaven to exercising frequently to avoid the body type.


K’vrett is a man with a spring in his step and a tune on his lips. He walks to the beat of his own drum and dances to his own tune. He’s a man that’s (more or less) confident in who he is and what he wants out of life. He’s his own special kind of charismatic: he tries, really tries, to get along well with others, especially once he’s been assigned to a group (or a wing).

K’vrett thrives on change. He wants to meet new people, see new places, do new things, and have new experiences. It refreshes and energizes him. He’ll be the first to volunteer to go out on sweep, or on Search, or to transfer wings if the need so arises. He’s got a touch of wanderlust that has thus far been sated on lengthy trips to the beaches or to Ista Hold. Betweening will grant him a newfound freedom to see new places and do new things, so much so that he might be need to be forced to stay at Ista around the time the wings are schedule to rise. When Nezenth gets his wings, the pair are going to spend lots of time accidentally avoiding drills- visiting holds, swimming in the ocean, meeting new people. Nezenth is going to need to be firm with this one to make sure that they arrive to lessons, to practice, to Threadfall on time.

He might seem odd to some. Negative remarks seem to roll right off him. He doesn’t see the point in being catty or rude or arrogant, and he doesn’t really understand that kind of behavior nor can he really recognize it when it happens. Some may even peg him as lazy and stupid- especially the calm, controlled types like Nezenth- but that isn’t the case. He’s got a good sense of humor and enthusiasm (“YES, LET’S DO CHORES THIS IS AWESOME”) and loves bad jokes and puns. He’s got his awkward traits, too; he doesn’t know when to stop running his mouth.

His funny, energetic demeanor doesn’t fool anyone. He is tough as nails, impatient, and headstrong. He embraced his parents’ expectations of him from a young age, He does not take no for an answer. He won’t let anyone tell him he can’t do something. He can be a Wingleader if he wants. He bets he could give make Weyrleader, if he could get Nezenth to actually try and chase! Whatever he wants done, he wants it done now (if you please) and as quickly as possible. While not easy to provoke, K’vrett has a temper. Although he has never let his temper get away with him, it is ferocious and rather frightening to see him when he's angry. His eyes snap and he paces to let off the excess energy, never standing still. If he does speak while angry, his words are callous, harsh and utterly truthful at that given time.

K’vrett’s cheery facade hides a very self-conscious self. He desperately, desperately wants to be considered part of a group or ‘one of the guys’. He IS a weyrbrat, whether the others like it or not. He wants to be accepted by others, and his over the top acts stem a lot from that.He’ll be a little harsh towards Outsider peers at first. He’ll defend Ista and Istan people with every breath he has. Because despite being Istan, despite growing up with so many of his peers, he was never actually one of them, and that still hurts.


One would think that K’vrett might have been some Outsider’s son, raised as a weyrbrat in the creche and given a fantastic name that was meant to be elided. He was one of those kids that was a part of a great Rider legacy, destined for maybe a big bronze or brown and saving all those poor Istans from their terrible tragedy. It’s stranger to believe the truth: that K’vrett born Braughanac, some few minutes before his twin sister Bertaula. His family nicknamed him ‘Chip’- chip off the old block, they said, as his shock of red hair, freckles, and giant baby fists resembled his Father completely.

Twins are a handful in themselves, but this pair was especially tricky. Braughanac was loud, though moreso in demanding baby noises than crying, shaking his fists at those nearby that displeased him in some way. Bertaula was every inch her brother, with loud shrieks and impulsive demands. There was no end to Braughan’s joy at the two marvelous copies he and Sooty had produced. The older siblings, however, just shook their heads, plugged their ears, and thanked Faranth none of them had been named Bertaula or Braughanac. The twins were born in a sudden upheaval for the Healer family; it was Braughan’s first and only post as Journeyman, and the family was hardly settled before Sooty finally popped.

K’vrett remembers his childhood fondly. Maybe it was because he was the boy twin, maybe it was because he wasn’t naturally a destructive force. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but no childhood is. He loved having five other older siblings and five younger ones to play with. He loved to sit and just watch the chaos unfold- normally quietly, in a corner, where he would be pleasantly ignored until it was all over and they were a happy family again. He took the hand-me-down clothes and toys with no complaint, believing wholeheartedly that he should be grateful that he was the same size as his brothers and sisters, that they didn’t wear their clothes out before he got them. He believed his parents when they said that he was lucky that he knew who his Father was, that he got home cooked meals every day. He especially loved this so-called special ‘connection’ he had with his twin, from being dressed the same to always having a playmate. That is, until Braughan messed up Bertaula and Braughanac for the last time and demanded that the boy be dressed differently and that his hair either be shaved or cut properly.

Despite being born at Ista, the Braughan Clan was decidedly Northern in the Isolationist Weyr, with each family member sporting the telltale red hair and pale skin. Different was not a great thing to be at that Ista, and the Outsider Crafters mostly kept to themselves. Out of all those Crafters, however, there weren’t a whole lot of playmates outside of their immediate family. K’vrett will swear to his grave that he was perfectly fine with that- that’s why he was so lucky to have Bertaula! But no, Bertie was so obsessed about being one of the weyrbrats that he was often dragged (he HAD to be dragged, of course, he wasn’t the kid that went chasing after his BABY sister, oh no sir) along with her. Of course this tended to end in disaster. Kids can be mean, and Istan brats were no different. It meant a lot of chasing the other kids around, begging to be part of their game, even if it meant always being “It” or always being picked last or endlessly teased.

Braughanac did not make it any better. He was very Uncool.

As he got older, he started to understand more of Bertie’s way of thinking. It just wasn’t fair that the other kids didn’t consider him Istan. He was born in the Weyr, just like them. His parents’ words about being proud of being from a Holder Family started to ring hollow. They weren’t a Holder Family anymore, not really, not with half of their children born and raised in a Weyr. He started to crave the same acceptance that Bertie did; he wanted to be accepted, red hair and all, as an Istan, like all the other kids. It wasn’t fair, but he kept his head down and mouth shut about it. When all the weyrbrats went into the candidate barracks at twelve turns, he watched from the Crafter area as his parents helped him move his small set of belongings up into the Healer Apprentice Barracks. A proper holder family didn’t daydream about dragons. They worked hard for their craft and kept their heads out of the Sands.

Braughanac did just that for a few turns, but his dreams of dragons manifested in other ways. With a little bit of help and meddling from the other Masters and Journeymen, Braughanac was slowly shifted in with the Dragonhealer lessons. It was a slow but sure process, one that Braughanac didn’t quite realize until he looked at his schedule one day and found that it was all lessons about dragons, doing rounds with the dragonhealers, and preparing for the next Threadfall. It took a little longer for his Father to realize it as well, as Braughanac didn’t exactly bring it up, nor did the Journeyman really interact with the apprentices. It wasn’t until one day, when Braughan was in the dragonhealer wing, looking for some salve or some sort of tool- that he found his son meddling with some green dragon’s injury. HIS SON! Braughanac thought he was going to die, right then and there. The Masters must have said something on his behalf, because Braughan said nothing more on the subject other than his half-grumbled quips about a “jumped-up beastcrafter” in the family.

When Bertie rebelled and left for Candidacy, Braughanac was still a good kid. He kept his head down and mouth shut like he should, though inside he was angry. Nobody, not even Father, should talk to his sister, his twin, that way. But what could he do? Clearly, she was in the wrong. They weren’t a weyrfolk family, despite how much the two of them had wanted it. It took some time for him to clear his head about the entire issue, and more than a few not-so-sneaky visits down to the candidate barracks with half of his dinner as a peace offering. She was more than pleased about his lapse of judgement into dragonhealing, even if it was just to have the blame shifted off her for just a little bit. Braughanac saw, over the next three turns, that candidacy was at least good for Bertie. She finally made friends outside the family. She was happier than he had ever seen her. He had it easy- out of the house at twelve, no pressure into marriage, a craft to put his mind to work and allow some space between himself and his family, even if the distance between him and his twin made him a little homesick.

Braughanac was about fifteen when realized that he liked boys. He considered it nothing but a passing fancy. Good Holder children didn’t like boys. He worked on schooling his expression, trying not to look too obvious or flustered at the sight of a handsome man, and certainly tried to avoid his father’s line of sight when others (mostly weyrbrat boys) flirted with him. He was terrified at what his parents’ reactions might be to that particular attribute, and he thought he did well to hide it. Keep his mouth shut and head down.

Braughanac wanted to join his sister as a candidate. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to support her decision to Stand, and he wanted to be a dragonrider! But he was cowed by the fight between Bertie and their parents (maybe cowed a little too easily, now that K’vrett thinks back on it). Bertie’s name was mud now and it stung, especially when his other siblings just lowered their eyes and pursed their lips when their Father got on one of his rants about his no-good daughter. It especially hurt afterward, having to see Mother so upset. He didn’t want to hurt her like that.

When he finally decided to Stand, it might have been a last minute split decision that he might not have told his parents about. He just kind of stole away from the apprentice dormitory in the middle of the night (not unlike his sister) and moved into the candidate one. The dragonhealers emphasized with the kid, and Braughan spent a few sevendays completely unaware of where his son was. Just when Dad came looking, Braughanac was away, helping a Master and a blue with some physio. Oh, he’s gone a-dragonback to collect redwort. He’s boiling vats of numbweed, YOU DO NOT WANT TO GO IN THERE. The Healer never had to interact with any candidates, so the secret went blissfully unknown until there was not just two redhead girls on the Sands, but a redhead boy as well.

Braughanac didn’t expect anything out of the Hatching. Bertie would Impress, surely, and he’d show his support. His surprise Standing would distract his parents a little, easing the fallout that his sister would surely cause. But no, of course that wouldn’t happen! Instead, a blue looked him over carefully, nudged him, poked and prodded a little before declaring himself as Nezenth, and Braughanac His. That fallout was entirely different. The Hatching Feast wasn’t exactly a joyous occasion for the boy. More words were said, tears were shed (he won’t soon forget his Mother’s sobs) and something snapped a little. He was a dragonrider now! He belonged in the Weyr, whether his family liked it or not!

He severed ties before his family had a chance to, storming off into the weyrling barracks long before the Feast was over. He picked a whole new name- K’vrett- instead of trying to elide Braughanac. He hasn’t said a word to his family since. The tentative relationship he had with Bertie shattered at his Impression, and it pains him that even his twin is avoiding him.

Thankfully, Nezenth is young and keeps him busy. He has turns of work to catch up on, being so late into Candidacy, so despite his studying and his hard work, he’s just barely sliding through with passing grades. He wants to make up with his sister, he wants to support her for this next clutch- he needs to find the time to do everything at once.


Father: Healer Braughan
Mother: MasterWife Sooty
Bucnar, Junior Journeyman Healer (+11)
Birka, wife of Tagilin, Ista Weyr (+10)
"Fussy", older sister, (+7)
Samma, older sister, (+6)
Broan, older brother (+3)
Bertaula, twin sister and unwilling BFF, weyrling to green Rekkith (0)
Ellou, healer's aide (-2)
Guts, Junior Apprentice Healer (-4)
Unnamed Romantic Sister (-7)
Beuzila, stupidface sister (-10)
"Dusty", baby who hides under the couch, (-12)

Zeff, blue Murumbith
U'valen, brown Lurzanth
F'nalkan, green Loninth

Zeff, blue Murumbith
U'valen, brown Lurzanth

Color Blue
Birthplace Ista Weyr
Birthdate (Raincallers)
Wing Weyrling

Privately, Nezenth will always feel like he's a bit too festively-colored for his own tastes. The funny thing is, there isn't really anything too wild about his coloring: his hide is a light, but bright, baby blue that can be eye-catching, true, and the darker blue stripe that runs down his back from forehead to the base of his tail is a distinctive marking, but that's as wild as it gets. He's a large blue, tall and not really bulky, but noticeably muscular just the same, with long fingers and a long face, and narrow wings. His muzzle has a very slight crook to it, just a minor imperfection that gives him a bump not far in front of his eyes, and his eye-ridges, like one of his other sibling's, are particularly prominent. He's very light on his feet, but that's only a taste of how easily he'll move in the air; Nezenth will grow into a dragon who just seems to be one with the skies. His movements aren't aggressive, but fluid, instinctively moving with the wind and air currents rather than fighting against them and trying to use his own strength, and he'll be amazingly maneuverable, flying in the face of the stereotype that tinier dragons maneuver best.


Nezenth knows – or thinks he knows – the qualities that a good fighting dragon should possess. Dedication. Focus. Patience. His instincts may scream for him to throw himself into the air after Thread, but no one has ever benefited from rushing in where they could have considered the situation and formulated a better approach, first. Flying, and fighting, is what he was hatched to do, and he's serious about it – perhaps a bit too serious. He's a good student. He listens intently, processes, learns, practices. That, to him, is dedication: making the commitment to learn what he needs to know to do the job that he must do, giving his instructors or wingleader the respect they're due by showing up on time and giving them his attention, sacrificing free time in order to master the subject if he must.

As for focus, well, Nezenth is practically unmatched. He's not exceptionally clever, but his ability to concentrate so perfectly is rather unusual for a dragon. It will serve him well eventually in an exceptionally precise ability to between — his mental images, from the beginning, will be clear and sharp, his memory incredibly accurate, and he will always know exactly where he is, and where he's going. He will also be very aware of his surroundings, focused not on one single thing, but on the moment in time that he occupies, everything about it, from the whereabouts of his wingmates to the Thread that's approaching him, and it will all add up to one amazingly maneuverable dragon, able to between as smoothly and easily as he dodges and rolls. He has a good head for places and names, and will be the dragon who can always supply the name to match a face, if his rider happens to be faulty in that department. It's part of his belief in being polite and respectful of others whenever possible, and he'll prod his rider and fellows to do the same.

When it comes to patience, though, well… that's something Nezenth may always struggle with. In some ways, he possesses a bounty of it. It takes a lot of patience to learn the way he does, after all, and even more to impart that knowledge to others, which is something he'll take an interest in early on. There's nothing he likes better than to answer questions, to pass what he's learned on to an eager student, and he'll be the first to try to help any classmates who are struggling, offering gentle encouragement to the unconfident and sharing his insight with the struggling. Unfortunately, he's not as unshakeable as he'd like to be. He can be a bit judgmental and hidebound, very I-know-best and a tad holier-than-thou, and there are certain things he just has absolutely no patience for: disrespectfulness, unrelenting stubbornness, those who refuse to learn out of selfishness or laziness, or worse: outright troublemaking. He's trying so hard to be dutiful, and he's not shy about offering his opinions about those who aren't, and that tends to make him a target for those he disdains the most. Nezenth wants to be so self-confident and focused and patient that he's above fits of temper, but it's just so hard with some dragons who can't seem to settle down and STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

When you've roused Nezenth's temper, you'll know it. He'll raise his mindvoice, he'll dig his heels stubbornly into his own opinion, and he'll tell youexactly what he thinks of you. Luckily he can be reasoned with eventually, and even if he isn't, later – maybe much later – he'll be overcome with shame at his loss of control. He's not too proud to apologize… it just may take him a while to get around to it.

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