Zhirayr stands tall, lanky and pale, as befits a man who has spent far too many of his days running around the Weyr's tunnels like a wherry with its head cut off, ensuring the Headwoman's orders are carried out. His black hair is cropped short infrequently, so it's nearly always more of a medium-ish length, featuring flyaway curls at any and every moment, no matter its length. One way or another, he usually manages to push it back out of his angular face, and so it neither overshadows nor obscures his strong brow, his soulful dark eyes, his patrician nose, or his full-lipped bow of a mouth. His chin is gentled just slightly by a curve, nonetheless set strong and stubborn as the stubble-dusted framework of his face.

His clothing is ever-so-slightly finer than 'serviceable', and he dresses ordinarily in black, with black, and some black on top. That said, it's an impeccable black: his trousers are neatly pressed, blousing just slightly before tucking into his (black) leather boots; his shirt remains stubbornly devoid of wrinkles similarly, featuring subtle black-on-black embroidery at neck and cuffs.

On his shoulder, he wears the knot of Fort Weyr's Steward.


As far back as anyone can remember, Zhirayr's family has been at the Weyr. Sure, sometimes people marry in from outside. And sure, he has some cousins around. But the funny thing is that none of them have ever been riders, and none of them have even agreed to stand, since before the Last Pass at least. And if cornered about it, they have pretty much the same story: None of them feel like they're missing out, or regret not standing.

As for Zhirayr himself: like most children born in Fort Weyr, he grew up in the brat caves, doing chores and getting into mischief in equal measure, and started following one of the Headwoman's assistants around in the manner of a lovesick twelve-year-old in due course. Soon after that, he found that many of his friends were becoming Candidates, while he was… becoming an assistant to a Steward's Assistant, instead. And then many of his friends became riders, and yet he'd gone and grown some new friends, among those who weren't riders, and he found that he was actually quite good at his tasks — no, his job — no, his career under the Steward. Soon enough, he was one of his Assistants directly. Soon enough, he had responsibilities over other people, instead of just over his own work. And he actually did really well at it, not even noticing when he passed by the maximum age to stand as a Candidate. He had a life of his own, just like his family: in the Weyr, of the Weyr, and never a rider.


Name Relation Location Position
Ilhryn father Fort Weyr Archivist
Raizene mother Fort Weyr Assistant to the Stablemaster
Hazen brother Fort Weyr Guard
Zilana sister Fort Weyr Cotholder
Lihriya sister Fort Weyr Seamstress
Riihene sister Fort Weyr Harper Journeyman
Irhai brother Fort Weyr Weyrbrat
Mirinda wife Fort Weyr Weyrhealer
Taimri stepdaughter Harper Hall Harper Apprentice


Title OOC Date Cast
The one where they suddenly got married. August 30, 2017 Mirinda, Zhirayr
Fort Weyr - Karaoke Night! Now with TABLE DANCING September 13, 2017 Leuka, Sephany, Eiram, Thautseruck, Riohra, Abigail, K'yan, Zhirayr, Inri, Risali, Syn, Taimri


Charge of This Post Bronze Molonlabe
He's big. He's bronze. He's — not, actually, that beautiful, but there's something poetic about his sinewy curves and elegantly vicious talons. A fine-pointed nose, large paws and broad shoulders are this firelizard's most notable features, though you'd also best stay out of the way of that lashing tail. Eyes are large, entreating and soulful; there's always something about him that looks a little sad around the edges due to the construction of his face, even if he's caught up in the viciousness of pouncing on prey.