Morag

• Weyrwoman for ages, though Alendis does most of the in-house heavy lifting these days... make that, these years.
• Might be Weyrwoman forever. She's stubborn.
• Still handles the outside deals. Most people go easy on an old lady.
• ...An old lady with a flamethrower.
• It's a small Weyr. She's nosy. She probably wants to know about you.
• Do you sing? She sings.
• ...Often while she works. Whistling is overrated.
• Sometimes she still tends bar.
• She's also a well-known fan of naps. Siesta is life.
• She has some grandkids. Are you her (great-)grandkid? Can't promise it matters.
• Bless your heart.

Morag Impressed in her mid-teens and found herself Weyrwoman before she was twenty; it's been a long, long road.

Her birthplace was Ista Hold, and she found Khataith on Ista Weyr's black sands; traded when her queen was just old enough to between, everyone expected her to spend decades learning... which she did, just not the way they had hoped, when the established junior was needed at Benden and then the Weyrwoman died in the very prosaic fashion of slipping while getting out of the tub.

She's had friends, lovers, the occasional weyrmate, some children (promptly fostered), and a a good life. Khataith -- she of the dramatically dark-sparred, light-sailed wings and rich, rolling humor -- is her everything. And Khataith still rises, just further and further apart even as Pass draws nigh. It's not over yet.

She has a presence beyond her short silvery hair and her stringy build, something about the snap in her brown eyes and age-burred voice, even without her Weyrwoman's knot. Humor lines, sun lines, tension lines, they all map her soft, faded light skin like fine crepe.