Far from a delicate blossom, this young lady - somewhere on the older end of the mid-teens range - is obviously of sturdy make. Although only medium height at 5'6", Polsie has a fuller figure than most girls her age: a mixture of curvaceousness, raw muscle, and plain ol' baby fat. Naturally a honeyed tan, even in the depths of winter, her complexion is speckled with a multitude of dark freckles, with winter windburn and a smattering of acne made evident by a lack of time for applying cosmetics. She's starting to grow into her facial features: dark eyes, a flattened nasal bridge ending in a gently curved nose, and a full mouth. Framing her oval face is a thick mane of hair, red-brown and kinky-curly. Polsie's voice is high-pitched and sugary, with a Bitran accent.


Polsie is the youngest child of two successful, ambitious crafters: Smithcraft Senior Journeywoman Beralsia, a civil engineering specialist posted to Bitra Hold, and Weavercraft Journeyman Tasayin, a tailor specialist posted to the same. Both took it as a given that their three children would all be as successful as they themselves were, but left nothing to fate, practicing a strict and demanding parenting style.

This did not always go well. Asyiet, their eldest, sincerely wished to please her parents, but her desire to meet their expectations led to periodic meltdowns when she was unable to do so. The secondborn, Gerit, was the rebel, and struggled fiercely with his family members more or less from the moment he could voice objections. In this high-charged atmosphere, a calm, patient child like Polsie was often overlooked.

This was to her advantage. When her parents' attention turned to her, she learned quickly to be sweetly dutiful; once they, satisfied, turned their focus back to her siblings, Polsie contentedly did as she pleased, with unapproved playmates, in unapproved locations. By the time her parents began to pay serious attention to her, around the age of ten, Polsie had acquired a diverse circle of friends, knowledge of quite a few card games, and a streak of Bitran slyness that left her straight-shooting parents alternatively thinking she was the very model of filial obedience, and suspecting they'd been manipulated, but not quite sure *how*.

Polsie shot rather dramatically up in her parents' esteem when she entered the Smithcraft at 12, the only one of their children to actually follow one of them into their craft: Asyiet had summoned up just enough backbone to insist on joining the Woodcraft instead of the Weavercraft she'd been groomed for, and Gerit had deliberately failed his entrance tests to every craft Beralsia and Tasayin tried to convince him to join, forcing his parents to grudgingly accept that he was going to work in the Hold instead. She was also the only one of their children really able to cope with the long-distance micromanaging her mother tried to do; to this day, Beralsia writes her daughter at least once a sevenday with advice and instructions. Letters which, Polsie being Polsie, result in sweet promises of obedience that are cheerfully broken whenever she thinks she knows better.

Not all of the Masters at Telgar were as easily manipulated as her parents, and Polsie acquired a reputation amongst her teachers as a girl who was intelligent but not entirely trustworthy. She was, however, a legitimately talented student who quickly showed a natural predilection towards the mechanical aspects of Smithcrafting, and became a favorite of the machinery repair Master, who believed her less wholesome aspects stemmed from being bright, curious, and easily bored, and would be best dealt with by keeping her busy. She was also a favorite with many of the other apprentices and students, to her great satisfaction: having a large friend group is important to her.

Due a posting out to get a little real world experience, she coaxed her way out of her original designated posting (Crom) and swapped it with one at Fort Weyr. Although she's always wanted to visit a Weyr, the real, shallow reason she wanted the *Fort* posting in particular was the nearness of the Weavercraft Hall and Southern Boll Hold - both because the area's home to her father's side of the family, whom Polsie rather likes, and because she inherited her father's taste for fashionable clothing and figured she'd be more likely to get to indulge herself the closer to the Weavercraft she was.

Posted out during the first month of 2688, the amiable young woman wasted little time settling herself in, often scurrying about the Weyr busy with some kind of project, whether apprentice work for her craft or mischief of her own devising. Finding the Weyr, and its residents, to her liking, she was delighted during the summer of that turn when she was Searched while fulfilling the terms of a bet with Ely.

After a largely uneventful candidacy (excepting, of course, the little incidents involving a centuries' old ancient chest, the beanbag-wielding Weyrlingmaster, the beribboning of the candidate barracks, and miscellaneous other sundry nonsense), Polsie found herself approached on the Sands by a swaggering brown, who informed her that he was her Iqsath.


Name Relation Location Position
Beralsia Mother Bitra Senior Journeyman Smith
Tasayin Father Bitra Journeyman Weaver
Asyiet Sister Lemos Journeyman Woodcrafter
Gerit Brother Bitra Resident
Polina Grandmother Boll Retired Journeyman Weaver


Green Widget
Lines of verdant green streak in ordered chaos all across this petite firelizard. Her limbs are slender and almost graceful at first glance, but the abruptness with which movements are made give her a rather obviously awkward air. The lines create patterns that a computer crafter might swear were bits of code that can't be cracked, spiraling in a dizzying descent from muzzle down to tail-tip, and then cross-hatched with the same. The neon lines are set into even greater contrast by the murky near blackish-green that hugs her smooth hide as a base. Perfectly proportioned, the perceived order of her coloring extends to the evenness of length of limb, neck, and tail and the equal spacing of eyes across her narrow muzzle. A fall from order to chaos never seems far off, for every now and again a glance from the corner of the eyes catches her in just the wrong way to suggest something unpredictable and uncontrollable just below the surface of this quirky little lady.

Shaggy Shambler Brown Torpor
As firelizards go, this one's decidedly sluggish — and it shows. Often. His features are all kinds of scrunched together, his eyes beady and his maw flat and wide. While most of his hide is a wretched shade of brown that's green in certain lights, there are some dark spots that seem relatively 'clean' in appearance — a line down his back, dollops over his eyes, and a smear over his nose that frames his mouth. The brown is further marred with streaks of lighter color, which grant the illusion of fur … or mildew. His limbs are long, his ivory-pale claws even more so; broad paws and broad wings alike just serve to further highlight his less than graceful build.


Swaggering Straight Shooter Brown Iqsath
As dragons go, this particular brown's a rather well-built kind of fellow. While definitely not the bulkiest of the bunch, he makes up for it in length — he's a lanky, long-limbed, and lean thing, dressed up fancy in hide the color of bold, brash cinnamon and moving with a confident ease that's nothing less than a swagger. That color dominates the greater majority of his frame, growing a bit paler toward the weathered peaks of his neckridges, and darkening just a touch along his belly. His head is a cunning thing, angular and cleverly constructed, stroked with just a bit of charcoal darkness at the 'ridges and knobs. Whiskey-toned talons tip rather dexterous digits, his paws just a bit muddied with streaks and smears of ruddy clay coloring that fades out well before his elbows. His wings are something of a marvel, a blazing blend of red browns that start at the leading edge and gradually sift down to something just shy of bronze — a sunset in sienna, sketched out in stylish fashion. His whippy length of tail is unmarked, save for three bright bands of red ochre just before it forks.