Portrayed By Ruby Rose
Gender Female
Aliases Taia
Place of Birth Igen Weyr
Current Location Igen Weyr
Occupation Dragonhealer
Dragon Gold Ryath


Tall, this young woman is very tall by most standards, topping out at just under six foot in height. Her body is well muscled, and athletic, likely owed to an active lifestyle. Shetaia's skin is a dark dusky color, even beneath the tan she has acquired. Her hair is black and cropped short, giving it a rather spiky appearance. Her gray eyes are wide-spaced with thick dark lashes framing them, set above wide cheekbones and a nose that looks as if it's been broke a time or two.
Practical and simple, this outfit is well suited to the climate of Igen. A loose pair of pants brown pants, gathered at the ankles to keep them out of the sand. A wide leather belt sits low on her hips, an assortment of knives tucked within it. Her sleeveless shirt is made of the same light material, though the color is something a bit lighter. Depending on the time of day she may or may not have a dark blue poncho of a heavier material to ward of the chill of Igen's nights.


Shetaia was born at Igen Weyr, her mother was a brownrider and her father a passing Trader, there was never much of a relationship between her parents. Just two adults who sometimes had an itch to scratch. As such, when Shetaia was born she was sent to the creche. This is where she would remain aside from the occasional visits with her mother or father when they had the time or the inclination. It was her normal and she doesn't seem the worse for it. When she was thirteen turns old she left for a turn with her the group of Traders her father traveled with. She came back knowing that the life just wasn't for her, even if it was interesting. Shetaia has a first love and that is the dragons, it doesn't matter the color or their temperament. She genuinely cares about them, what's wrong with them, if they're happy or sad. Perhaps it had to do with her mother's brown dragon who showed her more affection than her mother was often capable of. Who better to listen to a young girls hopes and dreams than someone sunning himself on a ledge. To her, they're family and you take care of family. Aside from her occasional foray into the fighting scene she has been working on becoming a dragonhealer, its slow going because she's always finding another worthy cause to take up in the process. . While some might believe that not having a lifemate of her own hinders her ability, she believes it makes her pay better attention to body language and unspoken cues. Mind you she is no ray of sunshine and light, she's often grumpy might possibly complain about helping someone but she's always there.

Just recently Shetaia returned from Irene WeyrHold where she spent the last few turns learning the intricacies of dragonhealing from the best. She hopes returning to her home Weyr with this knowledge will be of a great help when there are injuries or sickness amongst the dragons or firelizards.


Name Relation Location Position


Martian Wind Cast Cognatio

Stiff and steady this one rests thoughtfully returning your gaze. Large eyes take in sweeping vistas, mind churning beneath the large thick skull with its rough head knobs and weathered eye ridges. Not a drop by water however, his body is molded by time and wind. What might have been a solid stone has been patiently carved in breezes both gentle kisses to etch out the curve of ruddy talons, and hurricane forces that blast and smooth the curves of his deep barreled chest and muscled flanks. A burnished bronze, still rough in a few places and bearing highlights of crimson and cinnamon is the hue which emerges from the storms and to which he carries with a certain dignity and command. Lengthy tail drifts behind, never quite still as it is stirred by the invisible vortices that molded his frame. Back, forth, is snakes and twists in no exact pattern or rhythm. Sturdy shoulders support rather large wingsails, broad as well as wide they help to carry him enormous distances with little effort, at least once he gets aloft. The tangle of sail is not as cooperative upon a perch. A bit ungainly in the folds which would rather be stretched and caressing those invisible currents.


Alien Vista Dusty Gold Ryath

Dry winds stir up dusty golden grains, splashing them against the edge of a canyonland on some far distant plain. Beyond, a sandy expanse stretches out, broken only by random spines of rough weathered rock, while attempts at vegetation blur in the cracks, weathered and browned gnarled branches, wispy tufts of what might have tried to be grasses - everything clearly failing to take hold. Glittering eyes open, the lids tucking back neatly around the smaller than average eyes. They are the only real spot of color, contrasting against the alien world etched upon her hide. Jawline is rough but sturdy, defined by crumbling weathered stone. It curves back unevenly as the top of her head comes down to meet in a roughened flatter muzzle tip. Expressions are found in the very subtle movements upon her face, this one's mood will not be so easily read upon the outside. Head swivels with fine control upon a muscled neck that flows into a broad deep muscled chest. One can even trace the veins which stand out upon muscled arms and legs. The hue of her hide deepens slightly, as though a shadow slips over part of the land that etches upon her main body and flanks. Talons are large, yellowed, dirty alabaster, curved and extremely sharp, a fact that she preens over now and then, perhaps her greatest outward emotional expression. Tail snakes out behind, offering her balance despite being somewhat shorter than average - thick and muscled along its entire length. Her wings reach skywards into this alien world, these deserts beyond even Igen's sandy shores, reflecting a sky full of particulate debris, veins pulsing around a frothy sandy storm which promises something more only at the trailing edges. Flashes of metallic gold lightning streak above a darker dirty gold dust which has gathered upon the expanses of her wing sails, that might even be an indication of actual precipitation, or perhaps simply your doom.


Title OOC Date Cast Synopsis
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