Lyri started life as a wanderer. She is the only daughter of her trader parents, Lyria and Erican. It was no secret that the girl was unwanted by her mother, though her father took a singular pride in the fact that /his/ daughter could best any boy her age (seven turns at the time) in wrestling or general fighting. This did nothing to change the mind of her mother and, soon after Lyrica, as she was known then, reached her 8th turn, Lyria walked out on her little family, never to be seen again. The turns passed, most of them marked by trouble making and mischief on Lyrica's part, she was constantly getting into one mess or another and, no matter how good her intentions, she usually ended up on the wrong end of the fist. Black eyes and bruises were the norm and no one thought it strange if she returned to camp carrying these.

The day finally came, however, when her father decided that travelling with none but his daughter for companionship wasn't enough and so, he handfasted a young girl from the Southern Boll area. Lyrica was quite happy that her father had finally found someone though, as she soon came to find out, her father's new spouse was not too happy about having a 'daughter' that was almost as old as she. Tension mounted between the two young women until the small group paused in Keroon to purchase a couple of runners, and Lyrica made up her mind that this was as far as she would be going. As it turned out, her father had decided the same and, after more than a few angry words, the patchwork family parted ways. Keroon quickly became a home for Lyrica, and she found work in the stables with a young man a turn or so older than her named Brellan. The two became fast friends and, as time went on, she began to look on him as the brother she had never had. They went through bruised backsides, colds, and bugs together and always enjoyed a laugh at the end of the day. That is, until the day that Salea and her brown Fallanth came to Keroon on an arrend. A clutch was resting on the sands at High Reaches Weyr and, after a short consideration, the brown decided that Lyrica should stand. Accepting, the stablehand packed her things, bid her one and only friend goodbye, and the new candidate, rider, and dragon took off from Keroon. Days past and the eggs hardend. Chores were done and pranks pulled, then the dragons began to hum. Lyrica stood with the other candidates watching the eggs rock and crack to spill forth their contents onto the hatching ground sands. Finally, when the action was almost over and Lyrica was moments from that long awaited glass of wine, it happend..... Cinderella at the Ball Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Lyrica, and steps forward. You experience an indescribable feeling as a dragonet turns and looks at you.... you feel a consciousness merge with yours, becoming part of you, and still apart... then you realize you can hear a voice in your head...

>>>> Soothing greens mist your vision, slowly coalescing into the same ethereal vapor that coats her slender hide. The dreamy and tranquil touches of pine-tea's steamy scent blur away the heat and intensity of the sands as She touches your mind and opens her soul. << I am Niamhyth, >> she offers with sisterly love. << You fit, Lyrica, and you always have. Be mine! >>

>> My name is Niamhyth!<<

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightening, Niamhyth was hers and she was Niamhyth's and everything that she had been before had suddenly changed, irreversably.

Weyrlinghood! And what a blurr it was! Lyri and Niamhyth learned to grow as a pair, the normally overpowering personality of the ex-stablehand was a balanced match for her bold lifemate. Lessons and excersizes helped to make them into a fighting pair and, much to Lyri's suprise, she found herself being given the position of Wingleader for the weyrling wing.

The second and last half of weyrlinghood was just as hard, even harder, than the first. Lyri and Niamhyth found more freedom and, with that, more responsiblility. And then... graduation..

The graduation was a small affair, weyrlings were made riders and, eventually, tapped into their wings. Lyri found herself being placed in the Zephyr wing. Proddiness came and went with little notice of the stubborn greenrider, (she's still not going to admit that it happens to her)and most of the men and women in the ranks of the riders have learned to overlook that vapid, vacant look that comes over the sharp witted rider now and then.

Another change has recently come about for the pair. Lyri has been given an Assistant Weyrlingmaster's knot.. fear for the future of High Reaches.

Translucent sky blue wings fan out at his sides, held by narrow shoulders above an equally slender body. All his moves are as exact and graceful as any feline, echoed by the swish of his long whip-like tail. Small and gentle, his personality is well-matched by his size. A charming little fellow, he's sure to be spend his time one of two ways: curled up near his pet, snoozing most of the day away in quiet simplicity, or eating. A streak of almost-white trips down his belly, wavering before blending along his right side in a slow slate grey and sea-green swirl. The rest of him is a soft, pure, summer sky blue not even a freckle dots that half of his body, remaining clear and calm. His eyes will usually whirl a deep, lazy green.

A fetid smell seems to cling to this large firelizard, a miasma that mingles with the mottled appearance of his supple hide. Shifting colors blend together chaotically, the metallic hues of gold, silver, iron and bronze overshadowed by the hint of rust which delineates all, a decay of all that is pure. Despite the rather uncomely physical persona and aroma he exudes, there is a sweetness in his expression; the softly whirling eyes sparkling with a subtle humor, subtle strength in the long, lean lines of his body, the stretch of fine wingsails and delicate 'spars, the clean length of tail and neck. Truly one must dig deeper than simple hide to find his beauty. Once found, however, it is a treasure to behold.

Svelte and dangerous, jungle green wraps around this wisp of a firelizard like a jagged cloak. Bordered by pale slivers of silvered viridian, there is a chill coolness to her quite at odds with the wamrth one would think the tropical colors inspired. Whirling with a tumultous fire, compound eyes are set like flickering jewels in a darting head. A lithe, cresting neck arches down into a trimly powerful body, talons like polished daggers sprouting from deceptively delicate claws. Pinions and wingbones are etched with traces of gleaming gold ambition, a heady contrast to the silver sparks that fleck the rest of her gleaming hide. Petite in size, the well-schooled grace of her fiery movements give an impression of confidence and temper that serve to offset physical size.

Sparkles and glitter come together in a flouncy green with a dancer's lithe and slinky form. Wings sport the reflection of brassy gold from unseen waters, petering out into her sunsplashed talons' curl. A bodice of the forest's verdant rainbow is fleck'd through with opalescent drops, wrapping her trunk in a be-sequined bodysuit of verdant lizardhide. Pleasantly slanted and accented in cerulean, feline-like eyes blink in a jadite head where a smart splash of gold tops off her headknobs with its squeaky-clean gleam.