Description

Cornsilk-gold made with soft ringlets and curls, cut short, dances around her pointy face like the moon among stars, showing a sparkle of blue-grey eyes from under. Features by themselves look pale, perhaps even plain with her ridgedly large nose, midden shaped eyes, and rounded out lips -- but with Zirade's strange moods, they contort into a million different things; from total ugliness to almost ethereal beauty in seconds, though she really is neither. A touch of curves mark her chicken-bone body of stick thin-ness that winds about slightly gracefully to what ever chore she is doing. A serious curl of brow can bring her out from any crowd, despite smilings of crimson lips between the wide stretch of her ears. Two tiny, metallic earrings can be seen in Rades' newly pierced ears.

What does Rade look like? I now have a picture drawn, but you'll still have to do with this description: She's tall, with that Princess Diana look going on in her face, you know, those large, tilted eyes; hers are grey, that full, stretchable mouth; hers is thin, and that strong chin, and cheekbones; hers are sharper, rather then stronger and that large perch of a noise sitting in that middle. Eyebrows are almost unseen under her swathing of hair, now head-hugging short, only her bangs left to the length they once were. Hair is cut in traditional riders' cut, short, to the jaw, and often tucked behind her ears. Her body is filled with lustrous muscle, and a small sheet of dark skin always covers it, along with a layer of fat that seems to gather in the fall, stay during the winter, detach midspring and stay like that until the end of summer, then gather again in the fall... Recently, she got her ears pierced and is wearing tiny silver studs in each lobe.

Rade Facts:

Name:  Rade, Zirade, Zaide.
Age:  Around 17 turns.
Place of Origin:  Igen Weyr.
Occupation:  High Reaches Weyrling
Dragon:   brown Azrieth
Relatives:  None that she knows of.
Fosterlings: All the bratlings at the weyr!
Firelizards:  green Lei,blue Cheraes,bronze Dromio, and bronze Mercutio.

History

Zirade's life began just at the crack of dawn, in an infirmary, at(what else?) a Weyr. Not just any Weyr. /Igen/ weyr, to be exact. The only people there was a brooding brown rider, a cocky greenrider (the birth mother), a worried blue rider who was the one delivering the child – Zirade! The father's name, Zoade or Z'ade, the Mother's, Ira; both had just become riders only a few turns back and were still trying to get used to their dragons feelings and personalities. It was the usual first pregnancy of a weyr rider, accidently, yet joyful, from the cause of a flight.

The birth was healthy, happy, and easy; but since both of the parents thought that their lives were not even close to being able to raise a child Ira's mother, a minor holder, wanted to see and take care of it. Completely satisfied with this arrangement, Ira told the current Nanny then not to worry, Zirade would be taken care of by Mierane. These first months are flickers of imagination, she can barely recall them as they passed like clouds, fluffy and sweet yet forgettable. Before she had even reached her fourth turnday, Mierane died, and so Zirade was given back to the weyr.

The weyr then was Telgar, nobody at the hold, for some strange reason, knew that she should be at Igen Weyr!! No one truly found out about that, so, to this day, Zirade only remembers living in a minor hold filled with barley fields before moving to the weyrs. Weyrs. More Weyrs.

Life was a swatch of kids, a stressed out Nanny; a friendly cook, and pairs of riders that she saw ranging here and there from day to day. This is where her slavery starts. On a single day, of typical Telgar Weyr weather, when it was only a few turns from moving from the Hold, Zirade was sitting in the living caverns, with a few other children who were her friends, making a puzzle. One of the Nanny's tall, lazy sons was strewn comfortable upon a seat nearby, sipping occasionally from a swirling mug of klah. In a wush of skirts, his mother came in, eyes bright; fiery in the dull glow of baskets. Slender fingers tore the boy from his seat, she screamed darkly about, ‘ How he was suppose to sweep the living caverns!' Discarding the boy to the side of the room, the woman left in a huff. Barely realizing what was happening, Zirade was tweaked off her friends; thrown drearily into work. Afterwards she was given a candy, not just any candy, but her favorite type; candied redfruit This was a surprise. Joy for work Now she'll do this more often.

And often. And often. And often. The Nanny's children, all eight of them, were mean, petty, cruel; hated to do their chores. When it got around that a child loved to do them, well, they couldn't help but go after the pickings. Enslaving the poor chickling. Her friends were gone, why would they want to stay with such a freak of nature?, her family, too, then her entire life was one chore, then the next, then the next, then sleep. Did the Nanny know about this? No. All her children were also clever, she never came close to knowing.

Day in. Day out. Work. Zirade washing the dishes, Zirade cleaning the bowl, Zirade sorting the laundry. Mind you, it was not fun. Not fun at all. But she thought it was. It would've gone on until the end of time had she not been framed and sent to High Reaches Weyr. How was she framed? Doing chores. Being the nice, neat type she was she was setting up the tables to keep them looking unordinarily straight. With unabashed gusto, came in the lazy sons, scoldings heard not far off. One of them, one of the more devilish, gave Zirade a brush. Dumbfounded, she held on to it. Which is what saved her life. Entering then was her tall, evil nanny surrounded by several angry riders. Spotting Zirade, they all sprang upon her with one intent; deep punishment. ‘ Huh ... ?' squeeked her. ‘ Don't huh me, missy dear. You've just bought your ticket out of here to High Reaches! They wanted another kidling!' ‘ Nooot High Reaches,' she squeeked, once again. ‘ High Reaches is cold. What'd I do to deserve that weyr?' ‘Oh, y'all know mighty fine what you did wrong,' the nanny picked up her brush. ‘Yooou, missy, wrote something in the bowl. Something about this weyr eating muck!' ‘No!' another squeek. ‘ Yes.' After that, she might as well have said get him boys, for she was dragged, unwilling to depart from her work, on to the back of a honking dragon. And taken to High Reaches Weyr.

The first few months there she was simply stunned. Unable to move. Unable to talk. All day she'd sit on her cot, feeling the warmth drift through her, the warmth of her own home, her Telgar Weyr. It would be sucked away as someone walked by, the tiniest breeze seem to freeze her every innards. Being in High Reaches would be like living in a cell. She heard tales about people freezing in the warmest place, the living caverns, and others of people getting lost walking up the stairs in a snow storm. All these fears were welded into misery. But, eventually, she learned to deal, so she got up that very day, made her cot, and marched to her living caverns, the work would start once again.

Despairing eyes caught the cobwebs spread everywhere, about the ceiling, though to others it would simply be in the hard to reach nook and crannies. She swept. She shook her broom from the cobwebs. She straightened the tables. She washed ‘em. She set the foods to beautiful positions. She saved the cleanliness of the weyr. Or so she thought. At this age she was old enough to join a craft, or get a position at a Hold, but at a weyr? No. Work would be her first and only proposition. The joy of seeing something clean is just tremendous. At least to her.

Eventually, people come to the living caverns, so eventually she made some friends. Outgoing personality shined through any shyness that she once had, smiles often winning others'. Making friends brought her a richer assortment of duties. Not just cleaning ones. She finally got the duty of helping with the Nanny. Being the children watcher. Trying to pass on her own good sense, she made them do chores; just like her. And couldn't really see why they hated them so much. Or why they hated her. She really was a nice person.

One day the Nanny just couldn't take it. She unhooked herself from her job, gave Zirade the horrible duty, and sank into the wonders of retirement. Fresh, young, and fancy free, the children thought that this easy push over would be their only hope. They were wrong. All six hundred sixty six of them were put to hard labor, to make the bowl extra shiny, to keep the cups in that fresh sparkle, in that darling shade of sheen. The ones not doing chores would be clustered about her, and around Pyrene, her helper, who very rarely helped. Sometimes the cluster of children was just too much that they overwhelmed her, but the stressed out nanny could not be overwhelmed. And she was stressed.

Dragon comes to the rescue! One day past yonder dragonclutching, Zirade was talking to her friend, dear Enya. While they were chatting by the lake and watching the kids swim, Kyleth suddenly came up over to Zirade and -licked- her. It was slimey. It was gross. It was good. Zirade was going to 'stand' at the next hatching. Friendships blossomed, bloomed; she fell in love with practically all of the other candidates. And then came hatching day (noooo!). Expecting the worst, and half dazed, she stumbled on to the sands. Much to her surprise, a beautiful brown came and meandered into her << Excuse me? I /did/ not meander. I walked with a meaning in life towards you -- and I met it! Sooo there! >> Well, Azrieth the brown was part of her life.

The following of her life was work. (Like past days, perhaps?) Not that bad of work, but work all the same. From it, Rade became a little wiser, a little older, a little easier-going, a little nicer. Azrieth helped. Veddy much.

And now they have their own weyr! Happily ever after!