Description
Long ringlets of auburn hair cascade down Tellus's back with tendrils touching at her rump. Most times her hair is tressed up to keep it out of the way. It almost has a life of its own when she's moving about.
Heart shaped face shines with youthfulness while her green eyes peek out all to often beneath flicking eyelashes. Narrow nose looms over thin smiling lips. Freckles dot the girl's face most noticeably on the cheeks as well as hints of them on her forehead and a touch elsewhere. The other features are certainly non-descript but add to her femininity.
Gone is the nearly boyish figure, grown out to womanly proportions. While not of statuesque stature her body does ebb and flow gracefully.
The miner is wearing an drab gray jumpsuit and a pair of well worn boots.
She looks to stand around 165cm and looks to weigh nearly 58.9kg. A bundle of energy all packed in to a 28 Turn girl. And donned on her shoulder is the black and white knot of a journeyman of the mine craft.
History
Dear Diary, My name is Tellus and I've wanted to be a Wherhandler since the day I set eyes on those ugly creatures. Ugly enough to be cute in their own peculiar way. I think I'm at that age were fate might pluck me up and pair me with one of those creatures… With fingers crossed, I wait for my chance…
But I get ahead of myself.
My life began at a backwater mine where I was born and for the last fourteen turns lived. A miner's life is rough. Mother assisted in the kitchens while father worked the mines. Nothing more dangerous. Disaster lurks all around you. The pressures of heavy earth above bearing its weight on carefully placed supports keeps the mine alive. Accidents happen. The air miners breath has its dangers. Pockets of methane gas, explosive, waiting to be found by the unaware. Another gas, carbon monoxide, that nearly undetectable gas that chokes the life out anything that breaths it. Poor engineering is another danger, as well as accidents from a more thought to be common kind. Cave ins. There are safety measures in place to ensure the mine is safe. One such measure is the Watch-Wher. And that's what I want to be, a wher handler.
My mother, Jallil, has always encouraged me to go for what I wanted. If that is truly what it was. My father, Oleg, says that he would be the proudest father any daughter could ever want. Of course my sisters, Awen, she wants to be a Harper, while Cai wants to become a healer. They say I should pick up something more traditional. I remind them that Whers have been around as long as anybody can remember. My brother Conway has taken my side, but then he's always going on about wanting to be a rider. So we stick up for each other, he gets teased as well. Who knows, maybe we'll both be able to fulfill our dreams. Someday.
In the meanwhile our days are spent around the mines, still being at a young age we don't go willy nilly in to them. Most times we're weeding, cooking, cleaning, as well as tending to our courses in geology and other earthly matters, as well as traditional things; like math. I love math. But that's another story for another time.
Family
| Name | Relation | Location | Position |
|---|---|---|---|
| Franses | Weyrmate | Ista Weyr | Rider of Green Danath |
| Jallil | Mother | ||
| Oleg | Father | ||
| Awen | Sister | ||
| Cai | Sister | ||
| Conway | Brother |
Firelizards
Blue Danas
Wher
Blue Tesk
Pale powder blue is the hide of this wher, from his slightly kinked headknobs and overblunt muzzle with its overbite. An overwhelmingly thick neck leads into his blunt, very wide body with his too short, bandy legs beneath it. A thickset tail, that mostly hangs down to drag on the ground and even the hide there seems dust covered, the blue color muddied. Knobby feet rest awkwardly on the ground, leaving him pigeon toed and his knees offset in. Thick wingsails can only be folded marginally, leaving those at funny angles and barely resting on his back.
