Olwyn and Aleith

Olwyn and Jenivrys

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 05:51:20 GMT

Type your cut contents here.Olwyn sits on the very lowest bench in the galleries, cushion beside her, food and drink and hides on either side of her. The eggs are lumps in the sand, currently left be by Aleith, who is sleeping curled up with Sareith. The rest of the galleries are empty, the last observer leaving disappointed with the eggs so well buried as to be invisible.

Skirts in hand, Jenivrys creeps into the galleries, eyes - like any Candidate - going automatically to the sands. Finding apparently no eggs there, she's then studying Sareith while hesitating, only to have an exiting bluerider laugh, "G'wan! They won't bite!" She jumps, managing a skittering smile, and hurries down the same row of benches as Olwyn, pulling up shortly on spying the goldrider. "Oh! Um... excuse me, ma'am."

Olwyn glances up at the address and smiles. "Oh, hello Vrys. Have a seat? There's not much to see right now, Aleith decided to bury them deep during the last move, but you never know when she's going to wake back up and start rearranging them again."

Jenivrys plops down onto the bench after another hesitation, offering over a wobbly smile. "Thank you. I was, um... I was hoping Grae'd be here. He said he was going to, with his leg, and all. But unless he's down there with..." No names, just a nod toward the sleeping dragons. "I guess he's somewhere else."

Olwyn shakes her head. "Nope. Rilkie came and dragged him off a little while ago. She wanted to make him useful with looking up reports or writing them or both since he can't do sweeps or other things like that. I didn't ask for details. The reports and such I have to do bore me to tears, I don't need to hear about his too," she says with a grin.

From all the comprehension on Vrys' face when Olwyn mentions 'reports', the goldrider might as well be speaking backward. "Oh. Well, um... Could I... could I be nosy? About you and him?"

Vrys's incomprehension is echoed on Olwyn's face at this question from the candidate. Her eyebrows rise in confusion and she asks, "What about us?" clearly not getting the other girl's drift.

Jenivrys glances sidelong, then at the dragons again. Even though Gr'din doesn't leap out from hiding she still drops her voice. "About... are you going to marry him? He said you were, but, well, he's a /man/. They don't always know."

"But dragonriders don't marry," Olwyn states blankly, her brow furrowing. "He should know that by now. Doesn't he?" she says a bit more desperately. "We can't make the same commitments holders and crafters do, both because of having to care for our dragons, and because of mating flights."

Jenivrys blinks at Olwyn's agitation, then chews on her lower lip. "But... but you -would-, if you could, right? He said you wanted to make sure it wasn't," her eyes shift toward the dragons, then back.

Olwyn's expression grows thoughtful as she really considers the question. Finally, she says, "No, I don't think I would. Marriage has so many restrictions and there aren't many recourses, particularly for females, if something goes bad. I much prefer weyrmating as a system, having seen both growing up."

Whatever answer Vrys was expecting, it clearly wasn't -that- one. Probably she was expecting effusive protestations of undying devotion. She sits there, stunned, for long moments - several heartbeats, at least. "But I... so you -don't- love him?"

Olwyn's brow furrows in confusion. "Love? What does love have to do with it? Perhaps your family doesn't do it, but many of the fosterlings my uncle had had long had marriages arranged for them. And Lords and Ladies almost never get to pick their own spouses for love, it's for political considerations."

Jenivrys shakes both hands and head hastily. "No, no! I'm sorry, I wasn't - that wasn't what I meant. For me, my parents... well, they're looking for a husband for me. There doesn't have to be -love-, but at least there should be /respect/. Or, or I have to a least -like- him first."

Wyn nods her head towards the candidate's know on Vrys's shoulder. "Well, it might not be something you have to worry about, you know. Even if you don't Impress, you can stay here and just have relationships because of love. And if things go wrong? You can end things. The freedom to do what you want leads to real, solid relationships when they do last because they're based on something other than force, I think," she notes thoughtfully.

Once again Olwyn is speaking a foreign language. Jenivrys does a double-take at her. "What? Oh! Oh, oh no. No, if I don't... I'm... I'm going back home. That's just," her lips form a 'w', then press tactfully together. After a second she tries again, gingerly. "So you -don't- want to... to... um. With my brother?"

Olwyn, in all the confusion and miscommunication, has apparently lost track of where Jenivrys was trying to go with her questions. "I don't want to /what/ with Grae?" she asks in confusion.

Jenivrys says "Erm. ...-Not- marry him? What was the word you used?"

Comprehension finally blooms. "Oh! No, I don't want to marry him, but weyrmate him?" She blushes a bit as she goes on. "I'd say we probably already are, even if we haven't said anything to make it official. I mean, his weyr was gathering dust long before he broke his leg."

Blushes also bloom, rather like comprehension - at least, on Vrys they do. "Oh," she says in a small voice, turning to face forward. "But that's... that's something official, you said? In Weyrs?" A breath in, and the dam breaks. "Because Mama and Papa are going to -ask-, as soon as they see me, and I can't just tell them that I don't know, because, well, I can't -lie- to them. But if it's, if weyrmating is /official/, then I can tell them that, and they won't bother me about it anymore." Gr'din, on the other hand...

"As official as things get in a Weyr," Olwyn confirms. "It's not like marriage, it can be broken off at any time, but it is a commitment between people." She hesitates a moment, then adds in a small voice, "You probably shouldn't say anything to them before Grae and I do talk, though. Just because we're acting like we're weyrmated doesn't mean we are. I mean, he might not want that kind of commitment."

Jenivrys turns pink again, nods stiffly. "You two'll... /I'm/ not going anywhere. So... so unless they corner me at the hatching or something, you'll have time." After another second she confides, "I hope you do. You're nice - what little I know of you, of course. If you don't think me too forward, ma'am."

Relief spreads across Olwyn's face. "Oh, good. We've been trying to take it slowly and not push each other into anything, so time is a good thing. Yes." She blushes again at the candidate's words. "Oh, um, thanks. You seem very nice too. And Grae, of course, is wonderful," she says, her tone ending up rather dreamily.

Jenivrys remains stiff - what else can you expect from a woman getting all gooshy about her /brother/? - but nods and scrambles to her feet. "Thank you. Erm... I better be getting back. I told Kolesha I was just going to be gone for a few minutes. I, um... good afternoon, ma'am." And she heads for the exit again without a backwards look.

Olwyn meets some of the new residents.

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 05:46:15 GMT

Ephara is taking her midday break, and so she opts to spend it here with a good view of the eggs. It seems she's raided the cavern for food, because she's carting much more than something so slight should be able to shovel down. Aside from the towering plate, she has a pitcher of juice in her hand, and mug dangling from her fingers awkwardly. With a sigh of relief she lowers herself into a seat in the stands, resting the plate in her lap and lowering mug and pitcher to the ground safely. You'd think she was having a picnic instead of lunch.

Aleith looks up from the egg she's inspecting suspiciously when Ephara enters, but when the girl makes no attempt to approach, the dragon goes back to her mothering. A few moments later, Olwyn walks in, some hides under one arm and a cushion under the other. She smiles politely at the candidate and begins settling her stuff on the lowest bench. "Hello there," she says after a moment.

Ephara looks up at Olwyn enters, about to shovel a bite into her mouth. "I'm not disturbing, am I?" She asks, nodding meaningfully to the brooding queen on the Sands. "I wanted to come see Sareith, but he's asleep it looks like." She forks some longbeans into her mouth, crunching contently.

Olwyn's eyes go unfocused for a moment. "If you're not going to insult her intelligence or her eggs, you're fine," she translates, then gives the queen a puzzled look. "Who was questioning your intelligence?" She shakes her head and returns her attention to Ephara. "Yes, he and Grae had early morning sweeps and I believe Aleith has been making him help her move all the eggs around, so it's no wonder he's tired."

Ephara nods her understanding, swallowing her mouthful, "Even dragons and riders come under fatigue, I'd imagine." She glances curiously at the dragon, "Why would I insult her intelligence? And I think the eggs are just fine. They're colorful. I like colorful." She reaches up to ruffle her hair uncomfortably. "You must be.. Olwyn, right? I hear your name a lot, but I don't think we've met. I'm Ephara."

"Oh, we do," Olwyn confirms. "And I don't know why you would, but apparently some people were saying things about her the other day and acting as if she couldn't understand every word they were saying." The goldrider shrugs in helpless confusion, then nods at Ephara's guess. "Yes, I'm Olwyn. It's nice to meet you, Ephara. So you're going to be standing for the clutch?" she asks, indicating the knot.

Ephara shifts, her eyes flicking nervously to the eggs. "Er, methinks insulting a broody gold is a bad idea." The girl shakes her head, looking down at her food and forming her thoughts around another mouthful of long beans. "Ah.." she finally replies, "I guess so.. at least.. I think so.. if nobody kicks me out, that is. I think Gr'din and Tenli both are waiting for any excuse." Her expression sours visibly.

Olwyn laughs. "Exactly. She was mostly amused by their ignorance, but had a bit of fun putting a scare into them." At the girl's admission, her brow furrows. "Why would Grae want to kick you out?" she asks, sounding very puzzled.

Ephara rubs her lips together thoughtfully. "He doesn't like me." She admits. "We got off on the wrong foot, you know. All I wanted to do was learn how to sort firestone. And then he went and told my aunt I was being disrespectful." Which is only the truth, but the young will see it their way. "Anyways." She sighs deeply. "Anyways, do you think we'll get to touch them soon? The eggs, I mean. I've never seen a dragon egg up close!"

Rilkie enters the galleries, the brownrider for once ambling at a leisurely pace, without the intensity or purpose that her gait usually has. Her first intention seems to be to take a seat off to one side at a nice vantage point to just look out towards the eggs, but she spots Ephara and Olwyn and goes to join them, instead. "Hello!" she calls, giving the two a wave.

Olwyn considers the candidate's words carefully, giving her a sharp look as she tried to read between the lines. "Hmmm," is all she says finally before moving on to the girl's question. "Perhaps. They need to be a bit harder yet and it will depend on how much I have to do," she explains. Once Rilkie appears, she waves back. "Howdy, wingleader," she tells the brownrider cheerfully.

Ephara offers excitedly, "Hi Rilkie!" she says, almost leaping up but remembering the laden plate on her lap. Instead she settles for waving to the brownrider. Her head swivels back to Olwyn, "How much you have to do? What do you mean? Do you have to do something special to the eggs to make them harden? I don't know much about this.." Her face is openly eager, as if begging for more knowledge.

"Howdy, goldrider!" Rilkie echoes back cheerfully, "And candidate." She listens to all the eager questions, grinning, but letting the other rider answer them. "Touching the eggs is worth the wait," she offers, by way of her own opinion. "Really exciting, just being up so close. And it gives you an idea of what the Hatching day'll actually be like."

Olwyn laughs and shakes her head. "No, it's nothing I have to do to the eggs. It's my duties as a weyrwoman. I have a lot to do. I go over all the reports turned in from the wings, I help the steward and headwoman with inventory, I have to take care of Aleith, that sort of thing. It takes up a lot of time." To Rilkie's words she nods. "At least as much of an idea as you can get before the actual Hatching. There's nothing that can truly prepare you for that other than doing it."

Ephara wrinkles her nose. "That sounds like an awful lot of work. Like everything my Ma does for our farm." she spears a few seasoned tuber wedges, nibbling on them. "So, um.. someone told me touching the eggs helps prevent maulings, but I don't know how. I've collected chicken eggs before, I touch them all the time, but the chickens still peck me when I get too close."

"A very rough idea," Rilkie agrees. "But it helps. Knowing at least a tiny bit of what to expect." She turns her head slightly in thought at the question about maulings. "Prevent maulings? Well-- I suppose it can help? I don't think I'd heard that, myself. People say different things about what touching the eggs does. I think it does let the dragonet inside know you're there, so maybe being familiar with you helps." She turns to look at Olwyn. "What do you think?"

Olwyn shakes her head. "I don't think that's it. I've had to read over some of the old records and it sounds like they used to not tell candidates anything. They would just shove them out onto the sands and so they didn't know what to do or expect and would get mauled. When we do egg touchings, it gives candidates a chance to see the eggs, get an idea of how big a dragonet will be, and become familiar with the sands so they can be more careful about getting out of the way. At least, that's what I've gathered. I was never mauled during three separate Hatchings," she concludes with a shrug.

Ephara considers their words, touching her chin thoughtfully. "That makes sense." She finally agrees. "I suppose dragons are more intelligent than chickens, anyways.. and chickens aren't telepathic." She concludes. She lifts her plate, setting it aside. "You're Stood three times?" Her tone is awed. "That seems like a long time to wait."

"And neither was I. Well, in the one Hatching, anyway." Rilkie grins. "Your reasoning makes a lot of sense, Olwyn. I guess I just like the idea of the dragonets inside being aware of us before the hatch. But that's a little romantic, isn't it? In any case-- just looking at them, you can tell that they're a bit different from chicken eggs. A lot prettier."

Olwyn smiles ruefully. "Yes, it was. I almost refused to Stand again when R'dur asked me to. I'm so glad I didn't, though," she says, turning a fond smile on her golden lifemate, who is busy moving another egg. "But fowl are a lot different than dragons. We're taking their eggs to eat and the mother is just trying to protect them. It's different in this case, because we're not trying to harm the eggs and the dragonets need to find their partners, and the dragons know this."

Yronica has no basket, no lost people in tow, and no excuse. She comes into the hatching cavern just to see what's here to see, slowing her pace so she can take the stairs and move between the chairs safely with her attention on the sands instead of her feet. She moves slowly through the galleries, distractable until voices break her concentration. She looks at the sources of those voices a moment, dubious-looking, then heads toward them anyway. "Hey," she offers up with a wave directed more or less to Ephara. "Ma'am" suffices for the other two, with a smile.

"Some chicken eggs are quite pretty. Like turquoise blue or rusty brown, or spotty. But definitely not as interesting as the mottled dragon eggs.." conceedes Ephara finally. "Gosh, I don't know if I could be cooped up in the Weyr all that time. But I guess it's good for.. for.. Al.. Aleith.." she stumbles over the name, grimacing apologetically. "Er, good for your dragon that you were there. What happens when you aren't on the Sands, though? Do they just.. Impress to someone else?" Yronica awards an impish grin from the girl, "Hey there, Yronica. Come to see the eggies?" her voice drops into a less formal drawl when she addresses the girl.

"In between hatchings, I wasn't cooped up. I wasn't a candidate anymore, so I could do what I liked as long as I got my duties done. I actually was at Fort initially, but I was born here at Telgar and decided to come back after I Stood unsuccessfully twice," Olwyn explains. Then, at Ephara's other question, her face drains of color. "I'd rather not talk about that possibility," she says shortly. At the entrance of yet more people, Aleith stops in her rearranging of the eggs to examine each one. When the person appearing is Yronica, the gold dragon lets out an unhappy bass rumble. Olwyn whirls on the girl. "You!" she exclaims. "How dare you treat my dragon as if she's stupid?"

Pharai enters the galleries at an even pace, her gaze skimming over the seats as she takes note of the various people gathered around to look at the eggs. She quickly sidesteps out of the way as a man bustles past in the direction of one of the front rows. She looks over in the direction of the sands only to find her vision blocked by a few tall people sitting in the back rows. Pharai then swivels her head to the side and eyes a few possible rows that could afford her a better view, the expression on her face being one of curiosity. With her decision made she begins to make her way down towards one of the rows where a small group of people have gathered. Taking a seat close to them she nods a polite greeting, "Good afternoon. I had heard there were eggs here and not having had a chance to see them often before I decided to come take a look." She explains, at last turning her gaze upon the eggs with an expression of interest. She crosses her arms close to her sides and leans forward, the eggs obviously having caught her eye.

Yronica lifts her chin, rewarding Ephara's impish grin with an open, guileless beam of her own. "Yes," she begins, and there'd no doubt be more, but Olwyn's whirling-about catches the girl reasonably by surprise and she's backing up a step instead. "Your," she says, then catches on with a blink and -- puts the guileless beam right back on. "Oh, ma'am. No. I didn't mean to suggest such a thing." She tones down the smiling just enough that she can see out of her happy little eyes, keeping them wide and harmless. "Just because I couldn't understand what she was up to doesn't mean anything, I'm sure. -- and I'm sorry about the hearing, but I didn't know they have proper ears at all!" She glances down at Aleith, like she's looking for ears, then back at the weyrwoman, who gets a gameless shrug.

Tenli makes her creaking way into the galleries just in time to hear Olwyn's exclamation. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, then narrow in a frown as she spots Ephara by the goldrider. "Overgrown firelizards indeed," she humphs to herself, then moves up to one of the higher rows before settling her ancient bones down, content to watch for the moment. Up above, her green dragon takes a spot on a ledge, her eyes bright blue as she watches the scene below with interest.

Rilkie waves to the newly arriving the impromptu gathering in the galleries, about to voice a cheerful "Hello!" to Yronica when Olwyn's sudden whirl towards her makes her simply close her mouth, silent. From above, a brown dragon swoops down and lands on a ledge, bugling his regards to the gold dragon and her eggs and the also-arriving green. Rilkie listens to Yronica's explanation, and her eyes gloss slightly at a conference between her and her lifemate, getting the full story.

Ephara glances curiously at Yronica, surprised that she is the one to insult Aleith. Shifting uncomfortably, she licks her lips, reaching for her plate and putting it in her lap to resume stabbing foot to put into her mouth. Mouth too full to get her in trouble, she watches the happenings curiously. Suddenly the cavern is full of people, including Tenli, who's already made her dislike of the girl clearly known. Hey, she's behaving today! Finally she finishes chewing and asks Rilkie as if nothing is going on, "So, you said you'd stood once before? I didn't know the Weyrs could take Candidates from other weyrs as well. So did you stand first at Telgar or somewhere else before you Impressed here?" Yep, best to just ignore it.

When Yronica moves back a step, Olwyn advances with her, looming despite their nearly equal heights. "You never, ever act as if a dragon can't hear and understand. They can understand everything you say," she exclaims, shaking a finger in Yronica's face. "And you especially are to never question my queen's intelligence! She's smarter than you are. I don't want you this close. Go back there," she hisses, pointing to the back of the galleries where Tenli and the tall men lurk.

Pharai settles back in her seat and looks at the eggs, although she can't help but overhear some of the conversation going on next to her. She looks over at Yronica with an expression of mild puzzlement, "You'd speak ill of a gold dragon?" She asks with a hint of surprise to her voice. Maybe is isn't her business but she can't but be curious about someone who would dare to speak ill of a gold. Her gaze then settles upon Jr. Weyrwoman Olwyn, knowing she's better be making some more formal greetings. She nods politely to the Jr. Weyrwoman, "Good afternoon Jr. Weyrwoman. Do you know how long ago these eggs were clutched? I just recently arrived so I'm behind on the news." She asks, both because she's curious and the fact that she doesn't want to situation to turn sour. Her hands tighten on the wood as she observes the situation in hopes that things don't turn out too badly. She then glances at the others and gives a friendly smile to those arriving, a polite nod given in greeting but nothing else said as of yet.

Yronica jerks up her chin, less smiling by the beat. "It was never a question of understanding. I'm sorry my ignorance caused her hurt feelings." She pulls in her mouth, tucking her hands into the folds of her skirts, brows drooped. Cheerless, for once, she tacks on in a raw low voice, "And you, too, ma'am." Obedience kicks in thereafter, and the wild-haired girl puts her back to the weyrwoman so as to ascend the stairs toward the back of the galleries.

Tenli raises her eyebrows again when the angry goldrider's attention briefly turns towards her, then she turns her gaze to follow Yronica's progression. She glances at the hulking men in the row behind her, then gingerly moves a bit farther in to give the girl someone to sit as far from the junior weyrwoman as possible.

Rilkie's mouth drops, slightly agape, at Olwyn's response at first, but quickly closes it again, surprised at but understanding the goldrider's actions. She watches as Yronica heads towards the back of the galleries, then turns once more towards those immediately near her. "Welcome to Telgar, then!" She says brightly, to Pharai, though her cheerfulness seems just a bit forced given what just happened. Easy enough to focus on something else for the moment.

Ephara chews on her lower lip, flinching a little at Olwyn's vengence. "Er, weyrwoman Olwyn.." she whines, lifting her hands and glancing at Aleith, then back at her rider, as if she expects the woman to start breathing flames like a dragon in Threadfall. Looking around, she deposits her plate in the seat beside her and grabs the mug and pitcher, pouring the juice out and offering it up helpfully to the irate woman, "Ah, maybe something to drink?" She looks altogether too nervous about the woman's yelling. "Er, mayhaps on second thought.. I'd better get back to my chores.." she attempts to press the mug into Olwyn's hand. If the woman doesn't take it, the girl takes it with her along with her nearly empty plate. "I'll see y'all later!" And then she's hurrying out of the Stands.

Olwyn, her attention taken up by glaring at Yronica's retreating back, instinctively grabs the mug when Ephara pushes it into her hand. Before the weyrwoman has regained her temper a bit, the young girl is gone, no chance for thanks or threats or whatever else the upset woman might come up with. "The queen is mine, so I know exactly when she laid the clutch," she says coolly in response to Pharai's question. "It's been nearly a month now."

Yronica, too, glances at the hulking men in the backmost row. She scans the seats around them, scans their faces and their expressions, then looks down at her feet. For a moment she holds that pose, but it's only a second and she picks up her head, clears her lungs with a little hemhaw cough, and -- noting the space opened up beside Tenli -- moves into the row to sit down. "Hello, ma'am," she says to her new neighbor, cheerful as could be expected.

Pharai studies Yronica with a critical gaze from a distance as if studying not just what she is saying but her behavior in general. To the Trader it is an anomaly, a puzzle to solve for nothing more than to satisfy her curiosity as to why somebody would act such a way. As a person who has always been by the book it is hard for her to understand why someone would say such things about a gold. She opens her mouth to say something before realizing the question may just make the situation worse. She closes her mouth and remains silent for a moment, tilting her head to the side to observe what is going on next to her. Besides, it really is something she knows nothing about. She leaves the subject to drop and then smiles at Rilkie, "Thank you very much. I'm Trader Pharai by the way. May I ask who you are?" She inquires of the brownrider. She inwardly winces at the coolness of the Jr. Weyrwoman's tone, knowing it may have not been the best time to ask. She gives a quick nod, "Thank you. She truly is beautiful gold, the clutch is quite impressive." She compliments before falling silent, too wary to say anything more.

The old greenrider looks Yronica over curiously. "Hello, girlie. I see you've been on the receiving end of a brooding queen's wrath," she says, glancing down at the glowering gold dragon and her rider. "Learned your lesson, I hope?"

"That dragons have ears, ma'am, and brains. I really did assume the latter already," provides Yronica with a shake of her head. But her smile's coming back to her, and meekness in its wake burns away. She glances over at the greenrider and asks, "If the dragon's so upset, why is it the rider that brings down the word? The queen could have buried us in the sand on the spot if she pleased, if she were so upset." A pause, and her grin becomes almost unbearably bright, mad match to her raw alto voice. "And why does everyone call me 'girlie?'"

Rilkie smiles back at Pharai with a touch of relief in her expression, the tense moment between Olwyn and Yronica having passed. "Nice to meet you, Pharai. I'm Rilkie, brown Ancaith's. That's him." A vague gesture in the direction where her lifemate perches on a ledge. "How have you found the Weyr so far?" She waves in the direction of the suddenly-disappearing Ephara, then glances over to Olwyn, trying to look reassuring.

Tenli chuckles. "Have others been calling you girlie? I must be rubbing off on some people." Then she pauses and shrugs. "I can't rightly say, as Aleith is not my mindmate, but she's a generally good natured queen and I imagine she thought it was in bad form to squish some offenders in front of her eggs. And much as a queen is protective of her eggs, many of us riders are very protective of our dragons." Her expression sours for a moment. "That candidate that just rushed out thinks they're nothing more than overgrown firelizards. I'm watching her for any misstep and R'dur is going to get an earful if he lets such a disrespectful scamp get away with anything."

At Pharai's flattery and Rilkie's desperate attempts to change the subject, Olwyn starts to calm down. Sending one more dirty look in Yronica's direction, she turns her back on the girl and takes a long, soothing drink of the juice Ephara left her. Aleith's eyes have been blazing red, reflecting her rider's anger, but as Wyn settles down, so does the queen. "Thank you," she says finally. "She and they are very beautiful."

Tenli's words are met with nods and thoughtful quiet until Ephara becomes the topic to hand. "Well, she has, for one." With a glance the way the candidate just left, Yronica adds, "The one that just rushed out, Ephara. Is that what she said? Overgrown firelizards?" The wild-haired girl crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair to frown down at the queen. She tips her head as Aleith's eyes calm, and glances at Olwyn, as if trying to draw the connections based on body language alone. "Well, I have yet to see a dragon dart into the kitchen, steal a chunk of meat, gulp it down and then try to play innocent with gravy all over its chin, so I'm going to go with them being a bit more than that."

Pharai relaxes her tense back posture as the moment of tension in the area seems to have gone. She watches Yronica and Tenli for a moment but is a bit too far to hear much. She looks over to Rilkie with a broad smile, "Well met then Brownrider Rilkie. To be honest it's a lot different from what I'm used to seeing. But then again most of my time is either spent on the road or at Holds. It's not often I've been to a Weyr. So far I like what I've seen of it though as the people here are very friendly and the Weyr is well organized. I'm here visiting an Uncle who settled down here. I haven't seen him in turns. He got tired of all the traveling and decided to finally settle down somewhere and here was the place he chose. I can't really blame him either." She informs Rilkie before looking up at Ancaith and then back to Rilkie, "So how long have you had him?" She inquires in a curious tone, eager to learn anything more. At the thanks she nods politely to the Jr. Weyrwoman, "You're welcome. Though really it's nothing more than the truth." She remarks, shifting in her seat as she glances to the gold. One can't help but be a bit nervous looking at the blazing red eyes before the gold settles down.

Tenli's brow furrows again. "Yes, it was her. That brat could use more of me rubbing off on her. You're entirely right. Firelizards have their place, but dragons are much, much more. I had one years ago and it's nothing like having a dragon," she concludes. "So, what else do you know about dragons?" she asks conversationally, glancing over at the girl.

"Oh, it's been turns now," Rilkie says vaguely, "But it seems like it's been forever, sometimes. Easy to forget that I didn't always have him around." Her voice takes on a lower, loving tone as she speaks of her dragon. "And yes, the Weyr does take a bit of getting used to, doesn't it? Seems to be what everyone says when they come visit." From his ledge, Ancaith bugles down to Aleith. Perhaps it's meant to be a soothing sound, but it just comes out a bit gruff and abrupt.

Yronica's posture improves while Tenli's words amount to agreeing with her own perspective on dragons vs. firelizards, but she slouches when there's a question lobbed her way. "Not much," she admits quietly, her full cheeks refusing to let her smile be as rueful as her voice. "I mean, they're inherently heroic. They fight Thread fearlessly, breathing fire, carrying riders into battle and safely home again. Golds and bronzes give orders, but any rider can give orders according to rank, and queens have clutches. But it doesn't seem like much. I mean, apparently they have _ears._" She lifts a hand to push back the wild mess of her mane, tucking it behind her shoulders so she can better eye Tenli sidelong.

Olwyn still looks distant and continues to sip at her mug. Abruptly, she sets it down on a bench and gathers up the hides she abandoned there. "I have things to do. No one else better be insulting Aleith," she says, shooting another suspicious look Yronica's way. She manages to raise her hand politely in farewell, and with that, she stomps off.

Tenli listens to the girl thoughtfully. "They don't have ears the way we do, but they certainly can hear," she notes absently, then gives Yronica a searching look. "What is it that you do here, anyway?" she asks in a sudden change of subject.

Pharai glances towards Yronica and Tenli once more but finds little interest in any conversation about the earlier incident which is best forgotten. She taps her fingers on the wood of the seat next to her, a bit of an annoying habit she tends to have when she's thinking. Rilkie's reply shakes her out of her thoughts and she looks up sharply before smiling, "I can certainly imagine. We Traders are very grateful to have dragons around as there's been more than a few times we've had to move quickly due to these unexpected threadfalls." She mutters under her breath, sounding miffed about the threadfall. At the comment about it taking some getting used to she grins, "Indeed it does. Well you can't blame those who don't get to see them often. It can be a bit overwhelming. If it wasn't for a few hatchings I've watched I'd have no experience at all. I guess it's hard to see it in that perspective if you've spent a lot of time at a Weyr. A lot tend to look at them with a touch of awe and admiration." She comments in a thoughtful tone of voice. At the bugle she looks up at Ancaith and smiles, her gaze eventually drifting back down to the eggs. She glances to the side as the Jr. Weyrwoman leaves and remains quiet with a contemplative look for a moment.

"Well, they have hear-ers, then," affords Yronica in a light tone. She straightens again, hands smoothing her skirts like she might soon be up and on her way.

"Well, they have hear-ers, then," affords Yronica in a light tone. She straightens again, hands smoothing her skirts like she might soon be up and on her way. But the greenrider's question gives her pause and she twists in her seat to face Tenli. "I carry laundry to and fro, and sometimes food to the infirmary." She fidgets with the beads at the lowest point of the strands of them that hang from her neck. "Why? May I get you something, ma'am?"

"They won't, Olwyn," Rilkie says in way of farewell, a wave to the goldrider as she departs. Back to Pharai, "Oh, I always try and imagine what it's like for someone not from the Weyr. Kind of hard for me to do. I've never lived outside of one." Her gaze drifts up towards Ancaith, thoughtful, and he bugles softly back to her. "Can't imagine what it's like to be a trader. Do you have lots of adventures? I always thought that traders must. Going so many places."

Tenli considers the girl's words, nodding a bit and hmmming to herself. "Necessary, but not terribly critical, and something you can keep doing. How would you like a chance at learning more about dragons?" the old greenrider says finally.

Pharai turns her gaze to when the Jr. Weyrwoman once was and then nods in agreement, "I know I certainly won't. To speak ill of a gold is unthinkable, at least it is among my Caravan." She mutters softly before turning to look back at Rilkie, "Yes that's true, you can imagine all you like but its hard really. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be a dragonrider. It's just one of those things you can't really know unless you experience it yourself." She remarks in a contemplative tone. At the question she smiles and nods, "Oh I've certainly had my share of adventures, you get to see all sorts of different places as a Trader. But it's also dangerous and even more so with the unpredictable threadfall. Often times we have to travel rough roads and a few times we've got caught in storms. One time I had to stay behind because one of the runners pulling my parent's wagon went lame when he stuck his hoof is a tunnelsnake whole." She informs the brownrider.

Obviously Yronica doesn't quite comprehend. "Oh, even if it's not necessary or critical, ma'am, I'd be happy to get you whatever." The sentence might have had more to it, but she clips it there, reining in her mouth since it's gotten a bit ahead of her ears. She tips her head, like by putting one of those ears closer to the greenrider she might understand better, even though the words are already said. "I, uh. Sure? Do you offer lessons, ma'am? Or, um, do you mean I should be back in harper lessons? It wouldn't be the first time I'd heard -- " Mouth ahead again, the wild-haired girl reins it in hard and presses her lips thin.

Tenli chuckles hoarsely. "There may be harper's lessons in your future, girl, but first you have to tell me whether or not you're willing to stand for Sareith and Aleith's clutch when they hatch," she wheezes after a minute.

"Adventures, indeed," Rilkie says, nodding as she listens to the stories. "Well, how'd you like to have another one? Something a bit different? That might give you an idea of what it'd be like to be a dragonrider? A /very/ good idea, perhaps." Her expression flickers mischievously, and a sound like draconic laughter comes from Ancaith. "How would you like to stand for Sareith and Aleith's clutch?"

"Stand," repeats Yronica, and for once keeps her monologue internal. Just for a moment, just long enough to furrow her brow and widen her eyes and give the concept enough thought to be quite sure of what's been said. When she does speak, it's low, her voice raw and wary. "I -- do I really have a choice, ma'am? With Thread falling, and all. I'm obliged, if you wish it, aren't I?"

Tenli chuckles again. "There's always a choice, child. I must say I was more afraid you wouldn't want to after the chewing out you got from the weyrwoman, but Iridith insisted I ask, so there you have it. Yes or not?"

"I, I. No, it's fine. She's the weyrwoman, and I must have really hurt her feelings -- " Yronica puts a stop to the prattle again and has another obvious think, her consternation clear in the lines of her young, too-full face. "Is it terribly dirty, ma'am? Being a rider. I know candidacy is pretty bad. But it's temporary, right? What about after that?"

Pharai has fallen silent to reflect on some past memories when voices some distance off catch her attention. Her eyes widen as she looks over in the direction of Tenli and Yronico. She shakes her head for a moment as if to clear it before glancing over at them, was that girl just searched? She finds it hard to believe after she had just acted. No sooner has she heard them when she hears a similar question....only this time it is directed at her. She looks to Rilkie with an expression of wide-eyed surprise, "Me?" She asks, the word coming out more like a squeek. Her face pales and she leans back and tries to think, her expression now once of shock. Her hands clench into fists and unclench as she tries to think, "Well I am always one for adventure. And I think this would be an adventure of a lifetime. I'd....I'd be honor to stand for this clutch." She replies with a shy smile, hardly believing her luck.

"Candidacy isn't always bad. It depends on what chores you get assigned. As for afterwards, it depends on whether you Impressed or not," Tenli explains. "If you don't, you can go back to what you're doing, and if you do, it depends. Some of it's messy, particularly at first when dragons are babies, but you also stay very clean because of all the washing they expect to get."

Rilkie beams, and from the ledge, Ancaith's response is an enthusiastic trumpet. "Oh, wonderful! You do know the risks-- I mean, if you Impress, you'll be fighting Thread. It's a big decision-- don't rush into it if you're not sure. But it seems like you are. And Ancaith seems pretty keen on you Standing."

The wild-haired girl turns her head, letting her hair fall as a mop of a curtain between herself and the greenrider, looking down on the eggs on the sand. "So I could clean up right and -- my father wouldn't have to know, if he visited." Yronica's tongue appears between her lips, then slips back in, leaving her pursed mouth damp as if her mouth's suddenly going dry. The thinking takes time, no matter how fast and frantic it's done, but it's only a moment more before she turns back to Tenli. She tosses her head just enough to get her hair out of the way. "On your recommendation, ma'am. Yes."

Pharai forces herself to take a few deep breaths and composure herself in order to get over the initial shock before looking up at Ancaith, "Is he...positive about this?" She asks tentatively, and for one of the first times in her life her voice is wavery. She leans forward and braces her hands on the seat to either side of her, her arms resting on her lap as she gives a broad smile, "To be a dragonrider....I never really considered the possibility. I thought I might continue on to start my own Caravan one day or become a Bakercrafter...but a dragonrider? There are very few people in my family have been searched. I'm more than aware of the dangers. The life of a Trader is almost as dangerous. My brother was killed in some foolish accident several turns back, because a wagon rolled over him. I'm prepared to face the danger should I impress." She informs Rilkie in a more serious tone before looking up at Ancaith and smiling, "Can you please tell him thank you for giving me this chance?" She asks, her face positively beaming with joy.

Tenli frowns again at Yronica's strange response. "You're in the Weyr now, child, and you're a candidate. If anyone gives you any trouble of any sort, you go straight to a rider, you hear me?" she says firmly, not prying, but trying to get the message of safety across.

"Of course! A dragon doesn't choose someone if they're not sure. And they have a knack for knowing," Rilkie reassures. "And he says you're very welcome. Now, I think I'm to show you to the barracks, were you can stay until the Hatching-- I guess you have all your things with you, if you're a trader? You don't need a lift anywhere, to gather any of your belongings?"

"Oh, it's not like that, ma'am," Yronica assures Tenli, suddenly all smiles, and somewhat blushing ones at that. "He just -- doesn't want me doing dirty work. He'd be ashamed." She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin, as if being told she's the Weyr's candidate in the way the greenrider's put it does have some effect bearing on pride. "Oh, but I will need to write him. Um. I caught Iridith's, but might I ask your name, ma'am? I'm Yronica. And thank you."

"He should be proud to have you be either a candidate or a dragonrider, no matter what sort of work it entails," Tenli grates. "Would you believe this is the second time in as many days I've forgotten to introduce myself? I must be getting old. I'm Tenli, greenrider. And don't thank me, thank her," she says, pointing up to the ledge that holds the green.

Pharai gives a sigh of relief and smiles, "Thank you. I wasn't doubting him, I just wasn't so sure of myself. It's not something that happens every day." She remarks in an amused tone before nodding, "Certainly I'd love to see the barracks. I'm not really sure what happens from here to be truthful. I know a lot about Holds and traveling but little about Weyrs." She admits, feeling a bit foolish for not having a lot of experience with Weyrs. She then gives a quick nods, "Yes I have everything with me. I tend to travel lightly." She explains.

"Well, I forgot myself, ma'am, it's no trouble." After which, Yronica tips back her head to look up the way of the greenrider's point, grinning quite thoroughly now, so much so that her fat cheeks just about swallow her tiny eyes. "She didn't mind my, um, boo-boo about the queen, then?"

"Well, follow me! And I can try and fill you in on everything you need to know," Rilkie says, rising and gesturing to Pharai as she leads the way.

Rilkie walks out into the bowl.

"She says you need to be properly respectful from now on, but if you do that, everything should be fine," Tenli says after a moment. "Now, why don't we follow those two young ladies and get you settled in the barracks?" she asks. She makes an attempt to get up, then sticks out a hand to allow herself to be pulled. "Give an old woman a hand, won't you?"

Pharai pushes off against the seat using both hands and shifts onto her feet, her gaze going back towards the eggs on the sands with an expression on her face that was far more than her previous curiosity. On those sands she might find a dragon of her own and the chance of that was very real. Turning away from the eggs she follows Rilkie out of the Galleries.

Pharai walks out into the bowl.

"I'll do the best I can." Yronica basically addresses this upward, toward the ledge where the green is perched. Then she comes aware of Tenli's upraised hand, and hops to her feet in a hurry so she can take it in her own hand and offer leverage. "Here you are. Oh, did she?" Head turned awkwardly she tries to get a glimpse of the departing Rilkie and Pharai. "I didn't even notice. Credit to you, of course, ma'am."

Tenli chuckles again as she uses the younger woman to pull herself up. "I'm just that fascinating a seat partner, am I? Well, let's go. Do you know the rules of candidacy?" she asks as she carefully makes her way down the stairs and out into the bowl.

Yronica accompanies her elder down the stairs and out into the bowl, blinking into the open air as if she hasn't seen it before. "I don't, ma'am," she admits. "Ephara said something about ale, I think, but I didn't really catch it all."

Tenli nods. "That's a start. There's no fighting, no drinking, no sex, no pranks, and you're supposed to do your chores. Oh, and you're not to leave the Weyr without a rider. Hatchings come on pretty suddenly and we wouldn't want you stuck without a quick way of getting back here. Any questions?" she asks as she leads the way across the bowl.

Pharai smiles at that and nods, "That's only reasonable as far as I'm concerned. To be honest I've never drank as I know that can really mess some people up. And you really need your wits about you when you're on the road. As for sex..." She pauses after saying the word with some measure of distaste in her voice, "Don't need to worry about that either as I haven't had time to get involved with anyone and that's not about to change. I've never been one for fighting either. So I think I should be okay." She remarks in an amused tone before shaking her head, "No I'm not...but since he is in charge then I look forward to meeting him. What's he like?" She inquires.

"This sounds a lot like my life at the Weyr so far anyway," observes Yronica peaceably enough, while keeping pace with the older woman. "Only until now none of it's been so directly enumerated." She ducks her head a little as they move through the caverns and tunnels, finally emerging at the barracks; there, the wild-haired girl straightens, almost bristling so wary she's suddenly become. "Will the assistant headwomen be assigning my duties still?"

"R'dur is... R'dur," is all Rilkie has to say. "You'll see when you meet him. Anyway, I should be going-- my quick break to see the eggs turned into a much longer one than I anticipated." She grins, though, obviously not minding all that much. "Congratulations again, Pharai!" And with that, the brownrider departs, with a nod to Yronica and Tenli as she passes the arriving on her way out.

Tenli waves a lazy, somewhat ironic salute to the brownriding wingleader as she departs. "Good. It's easier for those who haven't been living the wild life, that's for sure. You will still be assigned chores by the assistant headwoman, but they'll be posted on the list," she pauses looking around the room. "Oh, that's where it is this time," she says finally, pointing to the list on the wall. "Pick a cot. Do you have everything you need here at the Weyr already or do we need to send someone to your home to pick up extra stuff?"

"Oh, that'll be easy." Yronica nods to Rilkie as she goes by, then starts toward the duty list on the wall as if she might anticipate her name and chores already being listed. She stops halfway to reattend to the older rider's words, however, and in the end it might, maybe, seem like she was just trying to choose a cot. "Everything's here. Everything I need, anyway. It'll be all right if I go collect it and bring it back here?" 'Here' being a particular cot, one she claims simply by laying a hand on the pillow, leaning into the mattress and facing her searchrider again.

Tenli nods. "Good, though if you do decide you need anything else, feel free to ask and someone will take you or go pick it up themselves. Just move your stuff in here, that's right. Let the headwoman know and get a knot from her, I don't carry them anymore. I keep thinking Iridith will decide she's too old for this searching business, but she keeps proving me wrong," she laughs.

Pharai watched the brownrider go and lfits her hand in a wave, "Thank you." She calls out to the retreating Brownrider, noticing the arrival of Tenli and Yronica. Although she was a little leery of Yronica earlier due to the gold incident she decides to give the other Candidate the benefit of the doubt and smiles a greeting, "Congratulations on beeing searched." She greets her before introducing herself, "I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to introduce myself earlier. I'm Trader..well I was Trader Pharai." She greets before turning to the greenrider and nodding politely, "Good afternoon Greenrider." She tells her in a tentative voice, not knowing her name.

"You mean I could get someone to take me home? I mean." Yronica tries to look casual, although the sudden straightening and two steps taken away from her newly claimed cot toward the greenrider have already sort of spoiled the effort. "If I had something to pick up there." The cogs turn almost audibly. "You must tell Iridith thank you for me, ma'am, if you have a chance. I appreciate her," pause, grin, "youthful dedication to the cause." She at last turns to Pharai and after a breath allows, "Congratulations to you too, I guess. I'm Yronica."

"If you need to pick something up," Tenli confirms a bit suspiciously. "However, if you want to be a candidate, you have to come back." To Pharai, she notes. "Good afternoon, Pharai. I'm Tenli, rider of green Iridith." With the introductions finished and the would-be candidates settled, the old rider waves. "Get yourselves settled in now. I've got to go tend to Iri."

Pharai looks around at the various cots that are still available, trying to decide on one. She walks down to a cot that is two down from the one Yronica selected, "I think this one will do." She mutters and she presses a hand down onto the cot. Obviously satisfied with her choice she leans forward and glances at the wooden leg of it, "Hey, looks like someone's scratched their initials here. I can't make it out." She mutters before straightening back up and looking to Yronica, "Thank you. So what brought you to the Weyr?" She asks curiously, knowing nothing of the other Candidate's past. She then looks over to Tenli and waves, "Well met Greenrider Tenli." She tells her.

"Of course I'll come back, ma'am." Yronica beams at Tenli, and just about continues doing so until it seems certain the greenrider's on her way. At that point the wild-haired girl backs up a pace and sinks onto her chosen cot with a sigh. "Oh, my father thought I could get better work here than at home. Woman's work, you know, something that wouldn't ruin my looks." Which are ever so well kept as it is. Yronica smooths a hand over the coverlet, wiping out wrinkles just created by her own sitting down.

Aleith and Company

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 05:32:12 GMT

In the galleries, "No, well, of course they don't come out full grown. It's just... I guess I thought they'd have more of a head start than that." Revuen doesn't press on the distant history of Yronica's eating habits. He lifts a finger again, tapping at the air as he tries to count eggs. "Ten, eleven... Eleven?" he says, missing one.

In the galleries, "Oh, I hadn't even thought to count them." Yronica squints, settling her hands on her hips, mouthing out numbers as her eyes flick over the clutch. "Ten, eleven -- I think twelve, but I might have counted one twice. There's a couple of dark ones, a couple of green ones, those are easy to keep track of. But the whites and creams... I wonder if a queen ever lays her clutch right up against the rail." She grins down at the sand closest to them, undisturbed for the most part but by few footprints, and shakes her head. "I guess eggs want at least a little privacy."

Aleith, her belly bulging with her just-ingested meal, lumbers back into the Hatching Grounds, her wings flapping heavily against the extra weight. Despite that, she manages to land gracefully in a spot where there are no eggs. She rumbles something to herself, then glancing suspiciously at those in the galleries, she begins to go over each and every egg to make sure they are safe.

In the galleries, Revuen steps to the side toward an empty row, but before he can sit Aleith returns. Her rumbling, suspicion gives the young man pause and he looks between the dragon and Yronica. "Yeah, privacy," he echoes, then clears his throat and backs onto the steps. "It's important, right? The number? It always seems like that's what people ask about. How many." He inches up another step, the eggs mostly forgotten.

In the galleries, "Oh, she's huge," says Yronica in a low awed voice, though she doesn't think to back up -- or to stop staring at the freshly-gorged queen -- until she realizes Revuen has done so. "I guess it's important. It means the weyr will have that many new riders to fight Thread someday." She half-turns, keeping a sidelong eye on Aleith and her eggs, maybe wary. "They probably need more now than they did a few turns back, you figure?"

Aleith finally finishes checking over the eggs. The look she gives the people in the galleries now is far less suspicious. She ambles closer, one blue-whirling eye in the wedge-shaped head angling to observe each of them quite closely. Satisfied, she moves to the nearest egg and begins huffing and puffing to blow sand off of it.

In the galleries, "See, it's it kinda... that something that size comes out of something that size?" Revuen asks, tipping his head first toward the queen and then toward the eggs. "That's a lot of growing. "Do you know then if twelve is a good number?" As Aleith has stops paying quite so much attention to the bite-sized people on the stairs, Rev's backward progress wanes.

In the galleries, "Kinda improbable," affords the wild-haired girl, fidgeting with the beads hung from her neck. "I have no idea about the number. It seems small? But I only have the histories that the harpers teach, you know, and I bet it's the big clutches we get taught about. Um. What is she doing?" Standing hipshot on one stair, Yronica looks upon Aleith's huffing and puffing with skepticism. "Heating it?"

In the galleries, "Maybe next she'll pick it up and buff it shiny on her chest like an apple," Revuen replies with a laugh. He shoves his hands in his pockets and, like Yronica, strikes an easy, not-going-anywhere kind of stance. "I thought the clutches were bigger, too. Like twenty or thirty. But, yeah, maybe the harper songs just talk about the really huge clutches. That would make sense."

Once most of the sand has been blown off the greyish egg, the queen starts digging carefully around the base until there's only an island of sand cradling it from the moats she's created. That done, she looks it over this way and that, finally gently pushing it over with her snout and rolling it a few feet away. Then she pauses and begins to look it over again.

In the galleries, "And the ones with queens in them. Well, queens that impressed important weyrwomen, anyway. There have to be more than just the ones there's songs about." Yronica grins widely and easily, watching Aleith's work at the egg. "All that digging and she just moved it anyway. Do you think the point was to make it easier to move?"

In the galleries, "Well, you know, women get fussy. They dust the vase, move it to a new spot, organize things around it, look at if for a minute and then put it all back where it was." Rev's shoulders lift and drop. "Songs tend to be about the senior weyrwomen anyway. Maybe the younger queens just make the smaller clutches and the senior queens have bigger ones?" His brows winch together and he shakes his head, giving up on this speculating.

Aleith looks at the humans and snorts, a rather amused sounding noise. Then, her inspection apparently completed, she moves a few more feet away and digs another trench. Once it's finished, she carefully treads back to the egg and begins nosing it to the new hole.

In the galleries, "I don't," huffs Yronica, crossing her arms and putting her back to the sands and the dangerous, dangerous dragon so as to give Revuen a look as payment for his crack. "Move things just for the sake of fussing over them." Too quickly she changes sides. "Is it impossible to assume she might have a purpose for what she's doing?"

In the galleries, Revuen shrugs off Yronica's huffing and her look with a guileless, 'don't shoot the messenger' sort of smile. "You've never put on a few strings of beads and then changed your mind and put on others?" Rhetorical. He doesn't wait for an answer before he responds to her question. "Maybe there is a purpose. Doesn't mean she knows it. Could just be instinct, right?" But, with such an idea put to words, he shifts his weight and eyes the dragon again, just in case.

Aleith's look becomes more of a glare again and she rumbles at Ruvean, a few tints of red flashing in her eyes for a moment. Then, very deliberately, she sweeps more sand onto the egg with her tail, leaving only a few spots where the color of it is visible through the fine grains.

In the galleries, "I -- well, shopping, maybe." Her hand flies up to fidget fingertips at the beads she wears, though, and Yronica frowns at the man before turning around again just in time to catch Aleith's red glare and tail-sweep. "Um, do you think she can understand us talking?"

In the galleries, "Affirmative, Captain," Revuen says with an unsteady laugh. He backs up another step. "Think maybe we should... move on? I don't exactly want to be responsible for getting a queen dragon all riled up. I'm thinking the tithe leader might not think too much of me for catching trouble on our first day here."

In the galleries, R'dur enters the galleries from the bowl.

In the galleries, Rilkie enters the galleries from the bowl.

In the galleries, "What?" Yronica glances back, brows popped, at Revuen, but catches on quickly enough and tucks her fingers into her skirts to hold them above the stairs so she can ascend. "Yeah, might not be a bad idea to get a move on. Especially if she tells her rider -- then it'll be the headwoman, and eventually I'll catch it too." She checks over her shoulder the progress and state of the queen on the sands, then asks Revuen, "Besides, you're still lost, aren't you?"

In the galleries, "I haven't ever spent much time around dragons," Rev confides, turning enough that now he's moving sideway, and slowly, up another step. "Those looks she keeps giving us, though... they don't really seem like a good thing." He smiles down at her question, a brow cocked. "Well, I think I have a better idea where I am now. Back to that tunnel we came out of. At least the bowl is open; one stony hallway with a bunch of door and tunnels looks a good bit like the next one."

As those who were denigrating her ability to reason back off, Aleith gives another snort of amusement and settles down in the sand, idly gazing over the egg she just buried, a croon of contentment whistling from her.

In the galleries, "It's true," agrees Yronica, gaining cheer as they gain distance between themselves and the queen on the sands. "She sounds a little happier. Maybe we were too close." The wild-haired girl looks up from her feet and skirts and the stairs when the brownrider's quiet Hi registers, and doing so offers back a beam and reply. "Good evening, sir. Nice to see you again. Can I get you anything?"

In the galleries, Great dragon minds think alike, too, it seems. A second brown dragon, Ancaith, isn't long in following Alidaeth's lead, finding a spot to land on the ledges and bugling his greetings to the queen and the others present. Rilkie dismounts, spotting R'dur's path and following after him as the Weyrsecond makes his way through the galleries. "You're Alidaeth's started a trend," she calls in good humor. When she, too, reaches Yronica and Revuen, she smiles in greeting. "Evening!"

Aleith raises her head from her forearms to call a greeting back to the browns before settling back down to gaze at her egg adoringly.

In the galleries, "Maybe if we just stay toward the top of the stairs..." Revuen considers, looking back at the gold and finding some relief with her greater distance. His hands are still jammed into his pockets as R'dur approaches and he watches the rider without expression, at least until greetings are made to Yronica. He gives the man a smile. And then his companion goes offering... anything? That gets a look. "Like a handful of sand?" he puts in skeptically. Ss Rilkie joins the tiny hatching cavern party he turns toward her, a heel down and a toe up. "Evening," he smiles back.

In the galleries, R'dur pauses when Yronica speaks to him, glancing at her and then Revuen a moment as he slows to a halt. "Oh, no. No, thank you," he tells the girl with a shake of his head and a hesitant smile. "Ah. How are you--Yronica, yes? And, ah. I don't think we've met--I'm R'dur?" He sounds so hesitant about it all, like he's not quite sure just who he is after all. He does, though, glance around at Ancaith's bugle and Rilkie's greeting, smile a little more confident for someone else he knows. "Rilkie," he offers in greeting. "I'm sorry. Alidaeth... loves the heat. And looking at eggs, and, ah. Looking at females," he offers, with a glance toward Aleith, wryly.

In the galleries, "Like fetch and carry," snips Yronica back at Revuen, quick to turn back with a smile for R'dur and then Rilkie too. "Ma'am, good evening. Oh, this is Revuen," she obliges with a little bob to the brownrider. "He's with the tithe train from Woodcraft. And I'm well, sir, so kind of you to ask." She gives Revuen a look. "See," she says, as if her point -- she had one! -- has been proven.

In the galleries, "Evening, R'dur," the younger brownrider greets. "Rilkie, brown Ancaith's," she repeats her own name for the benefit of the others, with more surety of her own identity than the Weyrsecond. "Nice to meet you, Yronica, Revuen. Ancaith said about the same thing as Alidaeth. He wanted to be where it was warm. And where he could look at the pretty-- eggs. It's the eggs. Of course." A grin and a laugh at the last, and she glances Aleith's way, herself.

Aleith preens momentarily, spreading her graceful sails wide to allow the males to appreciate her fully, but they do not get any of the looks or croons that Sareith does.

In the galleries, Revuen pulls a hand from his pocket as Yronica beats him to introduction, offering it to R'dur first. "Sir," he says with a nod. If he notices R'dur's hesitency, at least he doesn't make a face about it. Yronica and her pointed look get a sideways smile and a little shake of his head. Then he offers his hand to Rilkie, "Ma'am," and another polite nod. Then he gives another wary look toward the queen and her eggs, glad to see the former is so distracted. "It is hot in here. I know the eggs like it warm but I didn't realize it would be -this- warm."

In the galleries, "It's nice to meet you," R'dur offers Revuen, polite as ever as he offers his own hand to the man. "And, ah. Welcome to Telgar. I hope you--you like it." A brief glance Rilkie's way ensues, and R'dur nods to her, bemused. "Alidaeth would quite happily have me transfer to Ista, I believe--the warmth, and the damp, he loves both. And I... Well. I believe we, er, cook the eggs into hatching, as it were. They get harder the longer they sit out there," he ofers the explanation to Revuen.

In the galleries, Self-satisfied, Yronica stands aside for the commencing of handshakes. "Cook them," she repeats, a bit startled, then brow-furrowingly skeptical. She crosses her arms and tips her head, tossing it slightly so the mop of her hair slips back behind her shoulder. "You know, I suspect that if I'd said that she'd have given me one of those redeyed looks. Is it really that hot," she tips her head the other way to gesture at the sands, then looks to Rilkie with brows up to ask for confirmation from a... more reliable source. "Down there?"

In the galleries, "Aside from getting a bit lost, I like it pretty well," Revuen confirms and he cocks his head towards Yronica. "It got easier with a guide. - Cooks them. Make sense, in a sort of... disturbing way. Dries them out or something? On the outside?" As he eyes the eggs again he laughs for Yronica's description of Aleith. "Yeah she was giving us some kind of unhappy looks. Or it seemed that way."

In the galleries, R'dur blushes, to have Yronica and Revuen question his words, but after a moment, he nods once, shyly. "Something like that," he affirms. "It--it makes the shell hard, and that's how we know how close they are to hatching. They're very soft when laid, but by the time they hatch, they're quite firm, really. Hard." More blushing ensues, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Are you... Are you enjoying the Weyr so far, though?" he aims a question at Revuen, curiously.

In the galleries, "She made a noise, too," Yronica observes, to bolster the story that Aleith was unhappy with them. She eyes the way out, though, and after a moment admits, "I should have been somewhere. Revuen, are you sure you can find the train again? I'm sure someone would be happy to guide you if you, er, get turned around again."

In the galleries, "It's pretty darn hot," Rilkie confirms. "Kind of start stepping from foot to foot after a few minutes. Like a little dance. But yeah, the heat helps to harden the eggs." She seems curious to know the answer to R'dur's question, as well. "We hope you are. We're all quite fond of the Weyr here, ourselves. And yes, it's a little confusing. I'm sure I got lost a couple of times, too." Ancaith, on his ledge, looks down at his golden clutchmate, giving her an odd sound like a croon-bugle.

In the galleries, "Well, I haven't seen too much of it. Or, well, I've seen a good bit but had no idea what I was looking at, exactly. We just got in this afternoon and the tithe leader is meeting with your steward so... they let the hands roam around a bit," Revuen explain. "I like what I've seen though. I don't have much to compare it to." He eyes the rider's blushing and casts a quick glance at the two ladies with him, looking for its reasons. "Yeah, I should be able to find my way back. And if not, I'm sure I can ask around. Thanks for helping me out of the maze, though," he says with a warm smile, one that suggests a wink might follow, though none does.

Aleith rumbles an answer to Ancaith, then slowly, her eyelids begin to drop.

Ancaith senses that Aleith sends sleepy waves. <<If you're here to keep those children from insulting my eggs and intelligence, I believe I will take a nap,>> she says, partially annoyed, but mostly amused.

In the galleries, "I'm sure she--" R'dur glances at Aleith, lips pursing slightly as he studies the gold. He abandons the subject quickly, though, lest he earn irritated noises himself. Instead, he glances back to Yronica, with a small smile. "Right. Well, I think we can, ah, set him straight if he needs it?" A look snuck back at Revuen, briefly. "Good night, Yronica." And on the heels of that goodbye, R'dur asks another question of Revuen: "Do you... think you'll be here long, then? The Woodcraft, yes?"

In the galleries, A wink does follow. Yronica fills it in. "Any time, Revuen." She turns to the brownriders and with a quick bob adds, "Sir, ma'am. Thank you for the information about the sands and eggs." So polite her words are, but she finds a chance to pop her brows up, expression a little wicked at R'dur, like his blushing might amuse. "Good evening." She takes off up the stairs toward the bowl, humming to herself by the time she's out into the open air.

Aleith senses that Ancaith sends soothing warm colors. <<Your eggs are safe. Your intelligence, as well. You may sleep.>> His deeper voice is reassuring, but also laced with amusement.

In the galleries, "Good evening, Yronica," Rilkie calls after the departing figure. Her attention is turned back to Revuen. "Oh, Woodcraft?" she asks, echoing R'dur. "And everyone here is helpful," she adds helpfully. "You get lost, there's always someone nearby who knows the way. Unless you get really deep in the caverns, or something. /Then/ you might be in trouble."

In the galleries, Revuen spends a brief moment watching Yronica depart, a polite pause, before he turns back to the two riders. "Well, as long as it takes for us to unload, I suppose. Maybe a little longer if the tithe leader is feeling like a bit of a holiday. Yeah, the Woodcraft." He grins to Rilkie, "I'm gonna try to stay out of the deep caverns. The few I roamed around today were confusing enough. I'm thinking I might have to start leaving breadcrumbs if I go down there again."

In the galleries, R'dur, of course, only blushes more at Yronica's expression, and he glances aside innocently as she exits, his eyes staying on his sprawled-out brown on the ledges for the moment. Then, when the girl's gone, he turns back to Rilkie and Revuen. "Ah," he begins, frowning slighly. "Ah. Breadcrumbs, I'd worry the children or the firelizards would probably ruin that idea. But, if--this is really... very forward of me, but--if you'd like, you could stay a little longer with us? Until the hatching?" A hopeful look is directed at the young man, though it takes the brownrider several more seconds to realize that's not much of an explanation. Hastily, he adds, "As a candidate."

In the galleries, "String or bits of yarn's better. Not breadcrumbs," Rilkie says, with the wise tone of a weyrbrat that had done it many times. "Critters find them and eat them. Used to think it was tunnelsnakes, but--" she stops midsentence as R'dur's words register. A grin promptly breaks across her face, and she turns to look at Revuen, eager to hear the young man's response to the unexpected offer.

In the galleries, "Oh, I don't..." Revuen had started to say. But then R'dur gets that last part out Rev's eyes go a little wide, then his eyesbrows tuck in a little further. "As a what?" He looks over at Rilkie as if maybe he heard R'dur wrong. But no, she's looking back at him all eager and expectant. "You mean, like... for a... Like..." He fumbles around for the words a bit before just ending up with a rather incredulous, "Dragon?"

In the galleries, R'dur blushes again, just faintly, and glances to Rilkie for support on this one. "Well. Yes?" he tells Revuen, tentatively. "If you'd like to?" Pause. In a rush: "You can say no, of course, if you want to; you don't have to. I can understand if you don't, what with Thread and your craft and family and all that and, and... I won't mind, if you don't." Alidaeth, up on the ledges, rumbles at that, the meaning apparently that /he'll/ mind.

In the galleries, Rilkie glances back to R'dur reassuringly, but the look loses some of its power when she breaks into laughter at Alidaeth's rumble. Ancaith rumbles, too, more of a 'good job' sound towards the other brown. "It /is/ a big decision," she says, as if to sum up all of R'dur's words. "Though personally, I'd say yes."

In the galleries, Revuen is still a little too stunned to reply. His mouth moves a bit, but nothing comes out. At the rumble his eye shoot up to the ledge and his mouth closes. "I..." He looks at Rilkie, "No kidding. I'm trying to wrap my head around... So I'd stay here and be down there," points to the sands, "When the eggs hatch? And then...?" The 'and then' manages to steal his words again. He looks between the two riders for, well, anything.

In the galleries, "Yes. And, yes," affirms R'dur to Revuen's words, with a firmer nod. "And, well. If you impress, you'd be a weyrling then. And if not... you can stay, if you want, but you could go back to your craft, too, really. I mean, whatever you want to do?" Pause. "Take your time, if you need to think. It is... It is a big decision," he repeats, with a glance sideways at Rilkie.

In the galleries, "And then your feet'll burn a bit and you might look silly, since the white robes don't flatter too many people," Rilkie observes practically. "And you might find a lifemate on the sands, which is worth it all, really." A glance back to R'dur. "And-- exactly. If you don't Impress, you've lots of options."

In the galleries, Revuen takes to blinking a bit more than he probably needs to. "But I don't have anything with me, really. I have my gear for traveling and all but not... I..." He drops his head to the side, rubbing a hand over his messy hair. "I could be a rider?" he asks, looking between those who already are. "You're not joking with me? This isn't some sort of weird Telgar welcome thing?"

In the galleries, "It's not," admits R'dur, shaking his head again. "It's... we don't joke, really, about search. Though, ah. If you need to make a trip back to the Woodcraft to pick up more of your things, we can arrange a rider to take you? If you want. I mean, I'm--I'm the candidate coordinator this time, so I can get you set up, if you like. You know."

In the galleries, Rilkie nods a bit solemnly. "Exactly. Not everyone gets asked to Stand. And it's not a joke, at all." She doesn't say anything else, but the expression on her face is one of an eager question, with one eyebrow slightly raised-- so? is that a yes, then?

In the galleries, "Well, I..." But then Revuen's face breaks into a smile, a big smile, and he laughs. "Ok. Yeah, I'll... I'm honored. Really, I never thought..." But he loses the words and laughs again, just about beaming between the riders. "I'll do it." Then a pause, "Can I still help with the tithe while it's here? I don't want to leave them a hand short. Man, my father is never going to believe this."

In the galleries, R'dur breaks into a big grin when Revuen finally accepts, looking pleased. "Really? Oh, thank you! I mean, er. Congratulations. Yes, congrats, Revuen. I can show you to the barracks now if you like--it's easy to find," he promises, with a smile still. "And I can get one of my wingmates to meet you in the morning and take you home for a bit, if that works for you?"

In the galleries, Rilkie's grin is just as wide. "Oh, congratulations, Revuen! I'm sure your father will believe it-- and be very proud. I know mine was. And now you'll have time to get to know the Weyr /really/ well, too! But yes, the barracks are easy to find."

In the galleries, "Yeah, that would be... Shards, I'm gonna need a map," Revuen laughs. "And thank you. Thank you both. And," he gestures up at Alidaeth. "Him too, I suppose. Thank you." The dragon gets a nod. Rev is still blinking at his fortune. "A ride back would... I've never been on a dragon," he admits. "The barracks, then. Yeah." And though his words are a little disjointed, his shock is surely a happy one if his smile is any indication.

In the galleries, R'dur smiles again at Revuen, nodding. "All right. Follow me, then. Good night, Rilkie," he tells the other brownrider, as he turns to head out of the galleries and across the bowl.

In the galleries, R'dur walks out into the bowl.

In the galleries, Rilkie waves to the departing pair. "Good night," she calls brightly. "And congratulations, once again, Revuen!"

In the galleries, Revuen dips a nod to Rilkie. "Ma'am. It was a pleasure to meet you." And then he's off after R'dur.

In the galleries, Revuen walks out into the bowl.

Aleith's Maiden Flight

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 01:19:52 GMT

Aleith's Ledge(#8956R)
The weyr is a large one, as all that house a gold dragon must be, but smaller than some for the junior-most queenrider at Telgar. The walls have been smoothed by many hands and the centuries, the expanses broken up by carefully hung tapestries in the faded colors of age. In the public area, a large stone couch has been worn by the weight and movement of countless gold dragons into a comfortable wallow. Opposite is a small table with two chairs and a larger desk covered in writing supplies and stacks of hidework.
Through a short corridor separated from the main room by a woolen curtain is Olwyn's smaller bedchamber. There's a clothespress, a rod hung with dresses and other clothing that should not be folded, and a nightstand with a brush and some ribbons scattered on it. The bed is not huge, but comfortably large enough for two, and covered with a luxurious blanket made of various finely-tanned furs.
The afternoon is dark grey and overcast. It is pouring heavily, lightning and thunder coming quickly. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air feels a bit nippy. The ground beneath your feet is wet from the last storm.
Contents:
Olwyn's Gift Chest(#16039h)
Obvious exits:
Southern Bowl

Aleith< Wyaeth is near enough to Nikoth to receive one of those growls, and he answers it with a chomp of his empty jaws toward his clutchmate. With his talons clicking like spurs behind him, the rangy, slouchy bronze finds his pace early, far too fast for an untried dragon but with just the right level of arrogance to be distinctly his own. Aleith has a heckuva head start on the cowboy bronze.

Aleith< Kerinath lets out a long growl of pleasure as he gets swated... more please... and continues to follow the lady queen in hopes of it happening again, picking up speed in an eager burst of youth,

Gr'din's expression flickers, a stricken look crossing his face at Wyn's mute appeal. Jaw grinds together as the big man, now soaked completely through without his jacket, finds a place where he won't drip on the furniture. Barely audible he urges, "Shard it, Rei - do it this time!"

N'thei's answer is to X'ndar is but a chuckled repetition of the word, "Bronzeling." With the inside of his sleeve, he wipes the water off his chin but fails to wipe the grin off his face in the process. Like a true gentleman, though a smirking one, he stands aside to let most of the others precede him in Olwyn's wake, his eyes turned to the goings on overhead. By and by, he ducks in and subjects Olwyn's furnishings with no less curiosity than he subjected her towel-clad self. To no one in particular, he observes, "I expected fancier digs, for some reason."

Aleith< Deluffath works as hard as he can, twisting agilly through the sky. His lean, tiny frame makes /him/ hard to swat. His glittering violet eyes burn as he arrows after the golden glow in the sky. His bugle is ecstatic as he twists and turns, not caring that he's actually knocked two browns off of their course and caused them to founder downwards and out in his enthusiasm.

Aleith< Sareith revels in the bouncing updrafts, hopping from one to the next to the next with abandon. As Aleith made her teasing turn, a growl of jealousy escaped. But none of the pack comes up with her as the prize, and the Telgari bronze relaxes marginally. As she heads back into the cloud cover, he skims along the bottom of the front, allowing each updraft to pop him into the grey to cast around for her, and then back down to make certain he misses no sudden emergance, no change in direction.

Aleith< Zunaeth is definitely not the fastest or most agile dragon up there--not even the wiliest, likely. But he's still picked up more than a few tricks, and though he's well in the middle-back of the pack, he flies on stubbornly, his injured wing not yet giving him much trouble with the lust and blood fueling him. Following further back, in fact, lets him have at least some advantage in shortcutting those first turns, and hanging back enough that he has more time to prepare and turn when Aleith barrels back through their midst.

Aleith< Talurith revels in the joy of flying in the rain as much as in the thrill of the chase. For a moment he almost seems to have forgotten that he's actually after Aleith, the first lids of his eyes closing as he enjoys the feel of the water on his hide. It's when she dives back straight at the pack that he's jolted back to the task at hand, and with a bugle twists as agiley as he can to follow. When she rises again he's rising, too, his body curving and wings pulled up to thrust him up towards the grey skies with steady wingbeats.

Aleith< Valketh turns on his tail faster then most of his color are able to with a grace that belies his size. Sweeping upward with steady, even strokes of his great wings, he keeps himself just behind the pack - the style and measure of the other males carefully taken in. Aleith's tail kept in his peripherals. An older bronze just ahead of him struggling onward is immediately discarded as any kind of competition.

Aleith< Nikoth is a streak of bronze in the sky after Aleith. Wyaeth's chomp is returned with the opening and clamping down of his own, much bigger ones. With an arrogant snort to his clutchmate, he pushes himself onward making to put distance between himself and the other males but close the distance to the gold. He's using those large wings of his and his young, youthful energy to power him along through the pouring rain that's wracking the skies, oblivious to it and the clouds. His only objective and desire, Aleith. When she turns so abruptly, it nearly throws the unexperienced bronze for a loop. But soon he's readjusting and making up for it for all he's worth.

V'delin mutely follows the steps of the mostly male crowd into the queen's weyr, managing enough wits about himself to take stock of its luxuries. "So did I," he agrees with N'thei. "But...Nice furs," he manages, only after recalling Z'lo's offer. "Mm, there's a beach bar there, right? I haven't been in turns. And bet it doesn't downpour like this, either."

Dragon< Aleith senses that Sareith's emotions echo her joy of flight spiraling out, returning dimly back. Underlying that is the whiskey-smoke sense of his lust, undeniably masculine and strong. Added to it is the exhultation from his rider: he actually /wants/ the bronze to win! No words to spoil her concentration, merely his own jubilant thoughts unable to hide from his queen.

R'layn drips water all over the place when he enters the weyr - but then, who isn't? "Oh, /bum/," the rider mutters, hanging back near the entrance and looking guilty. His sandy-coloured hair is dark with water; his clothes are soaked and his jacket is dripping wet on the outside. "Typical ruddy weather for a flight." The usually placid rider is irritated, sighing before he steps further in the weyr, near Z'lo and M'kin.

Aleith< Imirath is impeded but not daunted by the sheeting rain, and he veers his sinuous neck side to side to sight the glowing target, whirling eyes eerily lit by the flashes of light that break the storm-darkness. There! Among the clouds! Her ethereal radiance is unmistakable, and he shifts his barrelled chest, lashes his whipcord tail about, and makes for her, not so much hesitating as threatening with returning chomps and showings of teeth at his nearest competition.

A'son arrives in the woman's weyr, eyes sweeping over the furnishings, the other men and finally Olwyn herself. A look of pity and an apologetic expression flashes across his face before he leans against an empty space of wall. His soaking wet hat is peeled off of his head. He goes to squeeze it but apparently decides not to drench the goldrider's floor. The damp thing is then jammed into one of his pockets and he quickly ruffles his short hair, flicking water off of it.

I'daur, shuffling into the weyr, rakes a hand over his face to take the worst of the water from it, hands absently rubbed across his shirt even though it's as soaked at the rest of him. The weyr itself gets only a brief look from him, as he takes in the gist of it and no more, finding Olwyn again in the mix. For most of the chasers he has no attention at all; of them, only N'thei and A'son get looks from the weyrlingmaster: that habit dies hard.

Z'lo sighs in relief as he leans back against the wall and sits down. "Warmth." He says with a yawn. His eyes finally blank completely in rapport with his lifemate. "Go on Deluffath. I'm settled now. Don't hold back on my account. You know what to do."

Aleith< Aleith remains hidden in the mist for a few minutes, then suddenly bursts out of the cloud cover in a spiral dive, her timing perfect as the move is accompanied by a fantastic blast of blue-violet lightning and the heavy growl of thunder shakes the heavens. She pulls out of the dive and rises again, staying out of the clouds this time as she flies straight ahead, allowing her suitors all to get a proper long look at her.

M'kin finds himself a wall perch. "There's this cute little kitchen girl here.. did I mention she's cute? She could have anyone she wants.. and if I am late she might just do that..."

One by one, the riders filter into the young goldrider's weyr, X'ndar somewhere in that line of them. Not unfamiliar with the way of flights, the brownrider sets himself up against a section of wall. Idle note is made of those still arriving with a curiously upward curl to his mouth that simply lends him a roguish charm. Wide shoulders shift against the rock in an attempt to get comfortable in his lean, maybe it's the unfamiliar surroundings or more likely the chase heating up in the skies above.

Aleith< Deluffath is startled by the sudden dive, but dives are his specialty. He folds his wings and drops like a stone. A loud bugle of joy issues from his throat. Oh lovely golden maiden, you are grace itself in the sky! He croons to her, after all, a lady demands respect.

Aleith< Sareith senses that Aleith 's wordless response is full of all the splashing mischievousness of a water fairy. There's lust, yes, but more, a feeling of joy and happiness and excitement for the future as much as a dragon can perceive of it.

Aleith< Valketh uses that long tail of his to whip out at a young bronze that comes too close into his airspace a snap of teeth enforcing the warning >> Back off junior! << The jostling for position behind and around the glowing queen drives the older brown down just enough, to shoot up through a gap left in the bunch and claim some open airspace for himself, from where her beauty and grace can be more easily admired.

Aleith< Wyaeth, duly smitten, cranes his neck up to peer at Aleith as she chases out of the clouds and into view, soundless except for a gruff snort of approval at her appearance, not very poetic to say the least. Like that for long, though, and he'll give himself a crick in his neck, considering how far below the queen he managed to position himself, likely a poor tactic. He paces Taleith horizontally fairly well now, but he's lengths below her and rising very, very gradually.

Aleith< That's one movement Zunaeth has no attention of following, not when he's worked so hard to get as high as he already has. Instead, while many of the other males pursue her directly, he mimics her lateral motions from well above her, keeping track of where Aleith goes but waiting for her to come back up to him, as he seems certain she will, eventually, do. In the meantime, he glides where possible, making every use of the wind currents he can, though their unfamiliarity makes that task a little more difficult for him than it is at his own home.

Aleith< Kerinath croons pitifully at the teasing queen, keeping himself below the cloud line, not rising up to meet her yet, just singing her praises of how he was not worthy of her, but please,please wont she notice him... he liked being tortured by her in this way, and it was just encourage him to keep up with the bigger dragons in akward bursts of speed that made him seem gawky.

Aleith< Ah HAH! There she is! Sareith was in the clouds for her dive, but quickly angles back on her left and above as she takes the long road. He does not voice his compliment, instead making his wing muscles do the talking, as he tries to draw closer to her. Water sheets around him and the speed of his passage drives the rain back so that the inner eyelids drop down to protect himself.

Aleith< Nikoth trumpets loudly when Aleith bursts forth into view again. As if he himself were the one to have called her forth and to have had that fantastic streak of lightening decorate the sky. Her glowing golden form is sought after. Not as experienced as some of the other bronzes and browns that are in flight, he still pushes forward. No aerial tricks are displayed today, just his speed, his strength and his overwhelming desire to tangle tails with that beautiful creature gracing the sky above the weyr. Arrowing himself upward, he tries to raise himself into airspace above her, his first at attempt at tactics thus far.

Aleith< Talurith is not unused to such tricks. The weather does, however, make the gold's dive unexpected, and his late reaction to the move means that he drops back towards the middle-back of the group of chasers. This seems to anger the bronze, for he pulls out of his dive in a sudden movement and pumps his wings with increased vigour to make up the distance. Growling as darkly as the thunder a scant few moments before, Talurith puts his all into it. He rises, into the mist, only the glow of his eyes visible as he speeds along after Aleith.

N'thei peers toward the inner weyr at the mention of furs, height exaggerated when he leans forward onto his toes for a few seconds to see over the few heads between him and the bed. To V'delin, he makes an iffy gesture with his palm rotating back and forth, and then takes a cue for the veterans. If everyone else is going to hold up the walls, he may as well help, leans casually with his arms crossed and a mercurial expression on his face, sometimes calm self-assurance and sometimes startled bemusement.

Inside the weyr, Olwyn paces sightlessly in a circular track, all of her attention now taken up by the chase in the sky. "Which one, which one. Oh, there's a handsome fellow, but he's so slow. That one is cute, but he is so very young. Which of you loves me most?" she mutters, the barrier between her queen's thoughts and her own taken down to the fullest extent.

Aleith< Imirath is steadily beating his wings, the greenish tint of forge residue along his undersides wet with rain that is flung outward with each powerful downstroke. Ergo, when the queen dives, precious moments are lost in admiration and in fending off the nearest brown with a head-butt to the side; then the dischordant bronze is fighting mass and momentum to reverse course, lashing his tail to better straighten out, seeking both the prize and the glory of eliminating the others in the race and trying to keep sight of her through the clouds and streaks of rain.

Dragon< Flight sense that Aleith's burbling thoughts echo to all of her suitors, >>Which of you loves me most?<<

Dragon< Aleith senses that Sareith gets utterly absorbed in the rise and fall of her wings and the reflections of the lightning off them. Abandoning himself for once to emotion and feeling, her joy buffing that gloss of untouchable cool slowly away. And surprisingly, he's reveling in it.

Dragon< Aleith senses that Talurith's voice is a throaty purr, low and sensuous as he addresses Aleith alone. >> My darling, you are more beautiful and powerful than the lightning. I have never seen a lady with such grace as you - nor one as daring. <<

Dragon< Flight sense that Liaoth spreads the ocean breezes and skies across the land for her, raising a sail bright and rosy as the sun before the queen Aleith, showing her with the vivid glory of the rising Rukbat over paradise rather than with words.

Dragon< Flight sense that Liaoth ooc oh dear, looks like a namechange isn't going to help here.

Dragon< Flight sense that Naurimeth croons softly at her, his mental tone blue and soothing... like the gentle istan tired. >>Dear... sweet queen.. you could walk all over me and I would love you all that much more.. I would love you no matter what.. you could do as you wanted..<< Kerinath responds in his sugar coated words

Dragon< Valketh bespoke Flight with >> rumbles in amusement >> More then fat wherries and heardbeast lined up from one side of the bowl to the other my queen. << <<

Dragon< Flight sense that Nikoth sends out his strong, vibrant voice, booming forth, like a pounding drum. >> Of course it is -I- who love you the most. See how I push forward for you, despite the driving rains, despite the cold and the clouds. I would follow you all through the skies! Discard these older, tired dragons. I am young and strong and it is all for you, dearest Aleith! <<

Dragon< Imirath bespoke Flight with >> I am your subject, your admirer. << Cajoling is in brilliant emeralds, replete with the starstruck earnestness of the flatterer. >> Cradle your effervescence in my embrace, o golden one, and the sun will rise and set for only you. <<

R'layn finds hismelf a nice section of wall to lean against, his eyes darkened as he watches Olwyn pacing around. Despite his youth, for a moment the rider looks old, the skin under his eyes appearing grey for a moment. Perhaps it's only a trick of the light, helped by the water on his face. Wiping his face on the (wet) sleeve of his jacket, Ril looks normal again, if shiny due to his wet features.

A'son face just remains in that apologetic-looking state. He unbuttons his riding jacket, brushing at it and looking generally uncomfortable. The weyrling watches her pace around the room before sighing, taking a glance at the others and lifting his chin up. His eyes are averted to the ceiling, attention now focused on the flight he can only see through the eye of Nikoth. As he keeps watch on the stone above him, his eyes become more and more distant, he himself associating more with the bronze in the sky than the man in the weyr.

Gr'din's eyes, once closed, flick open at Olwyn's familiar voice. Surprisingly, the Telgari bronzer's blue eyes have shaded to near silver. His expression holds a mixture of shock and joy, agony and lust, written clear for any with eyes to see. Usually as reserved and untouchable as his bronze, the naked emotion and need on his face is like a physical blow. He makes a small noise deep in his throat. Who loves her the most? He does, and it's a revelation that clearly he had no clue of, until this critical moment.

Z'lo simply relaxes, letting his body fall under his bronze's sway. A blank gaze settles on Olwyn. "D.... Delu..... you'll...... I trust you..... go....." He whispers softly.

M'kin can't help but groan softly at his dragon's eagerness, and his lateness, and his fustration, staring at the queen rider like he was a predator ready to pounce on his pray.

X'ndar's eyes snap open and teeth bare at a bronzerider, his dragon's warning in the air to the other seemingly transmitting down here too. Blue-green eyes fix on Olwyn with a lingering concentration from under half-lidded eyes. Fists clenching at his sides, the former southerner draws in slow calming breaths, then leans himself back against the wall. The others in the weyr largely ignored other then a passing smirk here and there for those not coping with it all very well.

V'delin doesn't bother with finding a spot along the wall. Instead, he shrugs free of his heavy jacket, sprinkling rain's dampness in a mistaken dewy coating on the floor of the weyr. He's just about sat in place when he notices the puddle, and he stands back up again, shouldering up to his best posture in case Olwyn's pacing reflections take her past him. "We do, pretty lady," he softly calls, his throat's dryness making it a near-croak.

I'daur, as laconic as ever, has nothing to say to Olwyn or to the others, his mind reaching out to his own dragon above them. The Reachian weyrlingmaster is braced himself up by the wall, it the main thing supporting him as he keeps weight off his own injured leg. Distractedly, he rotates his left one, rubbing the shoulder as Zunaeth's growing tiredness with fighting with his own failings reflects in his rider.

N'thei cups a hand around his mouth and shoots toward A'son and I'daur, "You think we should answer her?" There's no other her in the room, but he still dips his head toward Olwyn. He even opens his mouth a second time to formulate a reply to her paced questions, but something-- a look toward Gr'din, in all his distraught glory maybe-- forestalls his words.

Aleith< Aleith flaps strongly, regaining altitude once more, but at a cost. There's a faltering edge to her movements as weariness begins to slow down her great bulk, lithe for a queen, but still larger than almost all of her adoring followers. She circles overhead, letting out another trilling call, giving her suitors another long look at her. Then, once more, she dives, striving to scatter the pack again. This time, however, the strength to hold her wings taut falters a bit, slowing her, and giving one lucky male the chance to entwine himself with her.

Z'lo shakes his head, voice soft. "Deluffath already did...." He chuckles. "That wasn't your lady speaking, it was your gold lady." He gasps at the queen's dive. "NOW Deluffath!!!" He cries out sharply.

Aleith< Deluffath plunges through the rain, trumpeting mightily. His body is stretched out behind him like a rubber kite as he reaches out long, scrawny copper legs towards Aleith with a bugle fit to wake a Weyr at dawn!

Aleith< Valketh has no need of any shows of prowess, the steady thrumming coming from deep in his chest for the young queen exhibits is keen interest in capturing the golden beauty and making her his. A thermal caught, brings him out high above the pack of chasers and allows him full view of the shining form that twists and weaves below in the intricate dance she leads her chasers. Watching, waiting and keeping track, the brown is all attentive patience for just the right moment that will bring him swooping down to offer her his own strength, as hers flags.

Aleith< Kerinath lets out a groaning croon as he is either going to win her now or lose her forever... mememe.. please, please pick me... he moves to catch her dive, despite the fact that being lower then her, he might catch a claw.. though maybe he might like that, he wanted so much to catch her from this fall, pushing himself, water streaming from his hide.

Aleith< Talurith stays in the mist, an obscure shape among the grey. He matches Aleith move for move as she flies straight, and it's only when she circles that the sneaky bronze emerges from his cover, dropping slowly so as not to expend what remains of his energy. It's when she dives once more that he drops straight for her - not that he's wasting energy on that. He spots her strength falter and /that/ is when the Istan makes his move, his glistening neck reaching to entwine her, his muddy paws outstretched to help him try to catch the gold.

Aleith< Wyaeth would crow if he had the strength left for it! His lack of altitude serves him when Aleith dives, and he grunts with a combination of effort and satisfaction. One or two males dive away from the gold's tactic, scattering like tumbleweeds in a stiff wind, but Wyaeth shadows her ever closer as she draws near to his plane. There's no finesse, no cleverness to his tactics. He's a straight-shooter'n all he can aim for is that Aleith continues diving, right into his waiting arms. Er, wings.

Aleith< Nikoth has been spending most of his energy gaining altitude up until this point. When Aleith makes a dive, he calls out in a loud, brassy, trumpet of exhilaration. The moment is here! The young bronze takes a dive, gaining speed as he swoops down towards the gold. All his hopes, his dreams ride on this very moment as he pushes himself through clouds, rain and anything else that might get in his way. Closing in on her, wings are pulled open and he dares now in this second to get within a catching distance of her.

Aleith< To Aleith's mental words, Zunaeth has no reply, no protestations of love and beauty, no great things he would do for the Telgari queen; he lets his actions tell that story for him, as he continues to shadow her with the rest of the host. He's lagging already as his wing acts up, but so far, though it's plainly exhausting he's doing his level best not to let it affect his speed or his efforts to capture the fleeing gold. Again, she dives toward the pack, and he's waiting this time, delighted surprise in the whirl of purpled eyes as she comes back to where he's struggling so hard, and, in a last-ditch effort he'll probably feel tomorrow, he turns sharply to align himself with her as he strives to tangle his battered old body with her gleaming one.

Aleith< Sareith spots the hesitation and angles in on Aleith's left, coming down from above, trying to catch her as her wings tremble. Tail and limbs reach for her, talons sheathed as he attempts to pull her away from those others. A scream of raw need is nearly drowned in a crack of lightning and crash of thunder. Urgency, both his rider's and his own, is etched in every line as he arrows in, his strength in offering to his clutchmate, his queen, and please, his Aleith.

Aleith< Imirath has become distracted by the throng of chasers, and they're thick enough around him that he lashes at the pack with a snarling bellow and tears free only by dropping beneath them around the same time that Aleith dives and scatters the group, coming up almost, perhaps close enough? There, to his left, the side of his weaker scarred wing, she appears, diaphanous haze lit by flashes of lightning through the misty haze--he must try, instinct demands it, and his tail reaches outward in invitation even as he whirls, but can he turn on it sharply enough to ensnare the rapturous creamy rose gold?

Gr'din echoes Rei's cry in the skies above, muscles taut and trembling with restraint, eyes fixed on Wyn. Water flings in little drips around him as he stays rooted, that naked emoton still on his face.

R'layn trembles violently when his dragon dives, stepping forward so that his foot is in a puddle of water that he's dripped on the floor. His blank eyes are fixed on Olwyn; his face showing his need for her.

"I don't think she was talking to..." And there A'son trails off in his dry respone to N'thei, mouthing clamping shut. The man jerks his head down, eyes intent on Olwyn as he tries to push himself up even closer to the wall than he already was previously. His eyes are practically burning with a similar desire to his dragons as he watches the woman intently.

M'kin groans the groan of a well teased teenage boy,he has no hope that his dragon will win but he can't help but stare are her, taking a few steps like he was going to pounce on her eagerly if they did win.

Z'lo growls, body taught and trembling. His voice comes out in rattled grunts and growls as he clenches and unclenches his fist, looking fit to burst with the same joy as his petite little bronze with so much life. "Delu.... delu......" He growls softly.

X'ndar inhales sharply, feeling the rush of air with his dragon in his flight. Lips curl into a sardonic grin for the tried and tested tactic the brown uses. Ever darkening eyes that become more dark blue then green, rake over the young goldrider, gone is the restrained brownrider, instead in his place is the human incarnation of dragon, his every fiber reaching out to Olwyn through the strained lines of his body.

V'delin's eyes close and his hand drifts toward his left arm, fingers clenched to the whites of his knuckles with the effort of bolstering it, as though it'd do the same for his lifemate above. Fingers release his thick coat, leaving it to slip to the floor. He sneaks a look at Olwyn, blue eyes blazing with desire, and is unable to stop his intent staring once it begins.

Aleith< Aleith's golden hide glimmers with the rain and her heat, shining brilliantly in the faint light as she tries once more to tease her suitors. She slips to one side, avoiding Kerinath's grasp. Her new pathway has her headed straight for Nikoth, but just before she reaches the weyrling bronze, the loudest crack of thunder yet rattles the sky, the lightning accompanying it narrowly missing a lagging brown. She starts, her wings cup and send her up, straight into Sareith's grasp. She stiffens for a moment in surprise, then yields herself to the bronze, wrapping her tail around his and yielding to him with as much eagerness as he chased her.

Aleith< Sareith bugles, as much for triumph as to warn the others off, as he tightens his hold around his Aleith, supporting her as the heavens split open, his joy a match for her own.

Aleith< Deluffath cries piteously as he opens his wings, dropping past the two and beating his way back towards Telgar alone.

Aleith< Valketh bugles out his dismay when Sareith finds himself twined with Aleith. With a howl of loss, the southern brown spirals dispiritedly down through the driving rain to the bowl below to nurse his wounded pride. Frustration and exhaustion ripples through the camouflaged hide and echoes in his intermittent chuffs.

Gr'din crosses the weyr with a wordless cry, restraint now gone in eagerness to get to Olwyn.

A growl of irritation spills out from X'ndar's throat as a last glance is thrown Olwyn's way. Pushing away from the wall, the goldrider is once again afforded a heated look and then he turns on his heel and is gone back out to the bowl to tend to his dragon. "Overzealous big lug." is heard muttering out from the brownrider in his wake.

Z'lo jerks out of his reverie. "Deluffath!!" He cries out, back arching at his dragon's sharp dip and twist before he heads for home. "Yeah buddy. I'm coming. I'll meet you out there." He runs like the hunting dogs are on his heals for the bowl.

Aleith< Kerinath cries out pitifully at his lose, and disappears between in a poof of dispair

Inside the queen's weyr, Olwyn stops in her pacing, her body tense as Aleith dives again. As the golden dragon is caught, she turns, her loose wet hair whipping about as she flings herself at Gr'din.

Aleith< Zunaeth, off-balanced, struggles to correct himself, wing nearly giving entirely as he finally catches himself with a grunt, and glides heavily toward, wing held stiffly as he lands to pick up I'daur, limping from the weyr.

Aleith< Imirath manages the turn, but not fast enough, and his tail's eagerness made him too slow in the circle. With a distainful cry, he turns and flies downward, leaving the newly-paired behind.

M'kin groans softly, quickly heading out to go find that poor kitchen girl that was waiting for him.

N'thei has a weird look on his face, like a child who suddenly turns to a woman in a crowd of people and discovers that woman is not his mother. "Huh." He hauls himself off the wall he'd been bracing and follows the throngs out of the weyr, with one last glance over his shoulder to be absolutely /sure/ he's reading this situation right. There's Olwyn flinging herself at Gr'din, so yep. He is. Out he goes.

V'delin's eyes close once more, and he takes a deep, steadying breath before trying to make his clenched muscles work properly. He remembers his jacket, swiping it before he goes, and treads all the more

Aleith's Maiden Flight

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 01:19:26 GMT

Southern Bowl(#396RJ)
Towering above, the bowl wall rises in a curving three-pointed arc as it shelters this southernmost point of Telgar Weyr's great caldera. Sloping down to the north to a slight degree, the floor of the bowl has been channeled so that runoff might drain down to the lake beyond. There are several strategically placed evergreens that serve to baffle the biting mountain winds away from the southern entrance into the Living Caverns. Drifts of snow and the heavy tracks of large dragon feet and bellies cross the expanse of the bowl. Rocks and crags are hung with the purest white. Northward, the center of the bowl spreads hugely, leading to the feeding pens, hatching grounds, weyrling barracks, the Telgar Weyr lake. The ground-level weyrs of the queenriders dot the mountain to the northwest. The murmur of voices and the clatter of pots and chairs drifts from the Living Cavern, where the evening meal is being served. (+view available)
The afternoon is obscured by grey clouds. It is raining heavily, the water coming down in torrents. There seems to be a light breeze and the spring air feels a bit nippy. The ground beneath your feet is wet from the last storm.
Contents:
Talurith
I'daur
R'layn
Emisath(#3707OQVaeps$)
N'thei
V'delin
A'son
Zunaeth
Tegara
Wyaeth
Nikoth
Riaceth
Aleith(#8889OQaeps$)
Imirath
Z'lo(#8434POVace)
Gr'din
Deluffath(#8558QVabeps)
X'ndar
Valketh
Ancaith(#5577JOep)
Sareith
Obvious exits:
Living Cavern Central Bowl Records Room Outer Infirmary Guest Weyr Work Room

Sareith was dozing, but as his rider comes sauntering out of the caverns he yawns and blinks his eyes open. The bronze darts a curious look 'round and then rumbles a query to his rider. Grae shrugs, "Don't look at me, I just got here. You fall asleep on watch duty again?"

The presence of yet another foreign dragon is not exactly unusual today, apparently. Talurith is just another male among the bronzes and browns that seem to have gathered from Telgar and further afield. The muddy-looking bronze is curled up lazily in the bowl's centre, though the twitching of his tail is a telltale sign of his pent up energy. He's waiting for something, and it may not be his rider, who's nowhere to be seen.

Wyaeth lands along with the other Reaches bronzes, Nikoth and Zunaeth, though with his own heavy lack of grace, pretty much just thumping from the air onto the ground hard enough to set his rider's teeth on edge. N'thei is quick to dismount afterward, a dubious look finding its way across unfamiliar terrain; "Get the feeling we're gate-crashing something?"

X'ndar having just arrived back from errands for the weyr, lands in a bowl fast filling with foreign dragons. Well at least foreign to the brown pair. Blue-green eyes narrow but shortly its manners that hold out as the riders arriving are offered greeting "Telgar's duties to-------all the weyrs of Pern?" amusement curls his mouth up enough to crease lines down the sides of it.

Z'lo is shivering as he makes his way across the bowl from where he's left his bronze Deluffath. "S..... Sorry Deluffath. I'll be back out soon for you...... just gotta..... deliver this package....." The young bronzerider chatters out. His teeth are almost rattling. "I'm going to stretch out in the sun and fry when I get back to Ista."

Nikoth bursts from between, just after another High Reaches bronze does. They do the standard circle and land to the ground. A'son gives a look of disgust when he turns his eyes up the sky, taking in full stock of the weather. When he dismounts he comments to N'thei, "Yeah. Awful lot of folks here. By the way, I think this is a terrible place for us to get in any practice. Flames are likely to just be... extinguished." His tone dry as he pulls out his usual knit hat from it's been stuffed into his pocket. The man pulls out over his head, protecting himself somewhat from the weather.

Storming. Just great. V'delin dangles from a strap along Imirath's stocky haunch, trying to reach the pack buffeted about by the rain. "Well, if it'd quit with the lightning already, I could better see what I'm doing," he grumbles, having a quick look about to see who might be seeing him flail, quirking a brow for the business of the bowl. Another attempt secures the pack, and he works at untying it.

Aleith hunkers down on the edge of her ledge, her usual lithe grace momentarily obscured by the queen's obvious bad mood. Sparks of red flicker in her blue-whirled eyes as the gold dragon glares at the storm. Her rain-drenched hide glows eerily in the flashes of distant lightening, the luminescence seeming to last through the moments between the electric light.

As soon as Zunaeth blinks from /between/ into the rain over Telgar Weyr, the old bronze's attention jerks groundward, the gathering below catching his interest and he glides downward to land with his two weyrlings, while I'daur sets his mouth into a frown as he starts to unbuckle himself, muttering a curse. "Faranth. Watchrider said--" A shake of his head, and he slides down himself from his dragon's neck. "That's a bad thing?" is his dry reply to A'son's words.

Gr'din remains under the overhang to the caverns, warily watching the unfamiliar dragons congregate. He offers loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain, "Telgar's duties - watch the lightning there - oh, hey X'ndar! Congratulations! I hear you've got babysitting for the next group of weyrlings." One of the caverns girls appears under the overhang with dry towels and the like. As Aleith hunkers down, Sarieth's head turns that direction, squinting through the rain. Apparently he's not at all put off by the storm, not when there's something shiny to watch.

The presence of -any- number of foreign dragons is cause enough for a girl to come a little bit out of her way to see what's happening in the bowl. Yronica pulls her shawl up a little higher, over her head, sheild from the rain, and stays back against the wall of the bowl for further protection from the weather. She blinks against the wet, the empty basket that held the towels just-delivered to somewhere or other tucked under her arm.

It's a brave card for N'thei to play; "Maybe you'll avoid roasting yourself this time then." He has to add a baleful look toward the clouds afterward, while Wyaeth seems right at home amid lightning crashes and what-not, already busy taking stock of the sizes of a considerable portion of Pern's bronze dragons.

Z'lo shivers, but his hearing is sharp enough as he passes to catch Gr'din's greetings, just in case they're meant for him he answers. "Th..... thanks...Istas..... to yours...." He chatters. "I have a..... a package.... for the headwoman..... soon's I'm...... done...... I could..... use some..... klah....."

Talurith blinks his eyes as yet more rain runs into them, and it's fairly obvious why the bronze's wings are open and tilted down, the tips resting on the ground - the rain's running down and off them. He's soaked but it just adds to his already wet, watery kind of look. Very nice. Only a few moments after Aleith hunkers down on her ledge does R'layn appear from the lower caverns, not venturing out into the weather for the moment, just staring at his dragon's form when it's illuminated by the lightning flashes.

A'son holds his hand out, letting the heavy rain hit it "Yeah, if you wanted us to flame stuff, sir?" He replies, eyes drifting around the bowl. N'thei's words cause an instant glare to be sent N'thei's way. "Someone ought to keep their mouth /shut/ about things like that." Without waiting for a response he turns from the other weyrling and sends his attention one more to checking the crowds, and checking his dragon.

"Or anybody standing around him," I'daur snaps back, more irritation behind the words than his usual wry amusement as he looks to N'thei. Zunaeth seems impervious to the rain himself, as much as his rider is. "Shut up, you two," he adds a moment later, when A'son gets in on the sniping--apparently, while he's allowed to do it, they aren't. "Wasn't supposed to be /raining/. Wasn't supposed to get caught up in this, either," a nod toward the gathered males. "You oughta get Nikoth and Wyaeth home, if you still can."

V'delin at last manages to free his delivery, though he's by now drenched over his heavy jacket, water droplets complicating his task. He gives the pack-ties a kick, loses his balance, and dangles again before sliding to the ground, right into a puddle. "Imirath, why didn't you take a step to the side, save me the bathing?" His words fall on deaf ears; the siren's luminescence flashes and burns the image onto lusty whirling dragon eyes, and his attention is riveted on the young queen's ledge.

X'ndar hunches deeper into his flight jacket as the rain starts to trickle its way down the back of his neck. Gr'din's congratulations are met with a wide grin "Aye, it be so. Though I'm hoping less of the baby side o' things?" Valketh's eyes fix on the young queen illuminated by the flashes of lightening, just his tail giving hint to his interest as the other males are ignored for the most part. The banter between what appears to be 'Reaches weyrlingmaster and weyrlings is overheard in snatches and draws a gruff chuckle with words going back to Gr'din "Gonna be old afore me time I think."

M'kin makes his way across the bowl... sure he didn't have a message, or any reason to be there other then the fact that he wanted to be for some odd reason, but there he was, just in time to look up and see the flashing of lightening, and the gold.

Gr'din nods politely to Z'lo. "Just inside. Grab a towel there, Istan," after a quick check of the other man's knot. "If you can't find the headwoman, Brijana's usually just around here. But you may want to clear out in a hurry. Leave the package. Unless you fancy a longer stay." The big man's eyes are on Rei, though he nods to X'ndar. "Looks like it won't be too long to wait, either." Icy blue eyes flick to where Aleith burns away the rain with a heat clearly felt by his bronze. "Anyone seen Wyn around?"

Z'lo looks up and whirls as suddenly Deluffath rises from his slumped position, head turning to watch the young queen. He shakes his head at the older riders and talk of backing out while they still can. "My Deluffath never wins a gold flight. He's tried three times already, and he's only caught a green about two. I'm pretty much gueranteed a loss, but I'll humor him." He sighs to the other riders. "Good luck to all of you though." He tells Gr'din. "Looks like I'm stuck in the hurricane awhile longer. I don't know how you Telgarians /stand/ this kind of weather."

Kerinath perks in this excited way that young dragons can have. The stout little brown dragon probaly didn't have a chance amongst all the bronzes and their stamina, but that didn't stop him from looking up at the queen adoringly
Deluffath growls as he stands, stretches, and yawns. His flexible, dainty little arms all leg and no muscle. He's on the small side for a bronze, but his stance is one of intense interest and so much energy in the way he holds himself that he could easily be a stretched rubber band.

The girl by the wall of the bowl lifts a hand and uses the corner of her shawl to wipe rain off of her forehead, then backs up a step so as to be out of the way of the sheeting wet. She glances down into the basket and frowns to find it gathering water that drips through the weave and dampens the side of her skirt. She's had her fill of looking. A shake of her head at the strange choices dragonriders make for their social gatherings, and Yronica heads for the caverns.

Tegara slides from her dragon's neck, her shoulder having become a waters slide in the rain. "Good ol' Telgar weather," she mutters. "Now -- where's Breena -- I could use a little advice from her." The reason for this request is obvious from the AWLM knot that now adorns her shoulder. Then she spies the gold, gleaming in that special way that she is quite familiar with. "You have an ulterior motive girl? Wanna watch one of the big girls fly?"

Aleith suddenly sits back on her haunches, the red in her eyes blending with the blue until the facets gleam violet. She regards the gathering browns and bronzes imperiously, her gaze stabbing each before she looks back to the storm and snorts with obvious contempt. Finally, she spreads her golden pinions and leaps from the ledge, gliding northwards towards the feeding grounds. She trumpets her triumph, the cry echoed by that of a girl. Olwyn pounds out into the rain from the direction of the hot springs, a towel wrapped around her and a jacket hanging on her by the hood only as the goldrider hastily tries to reach her dragon, but too late. "Aleith! Now?" she gasps out the obvious.

N'thei gives the begged question voice while an eager smile comes to light on his very damp face. "Or what, A'son?" There needs no comparison in size to account for his mirth as he makes a good-tempered pseudo-challenge to the other weyrling, all mirth, though his smile is short-lived when he tunes back to I'daur, eyebrows pulled curiously upwards, hitched even higher when a towel-clad girl comes traipsing onto the scene. "See, now this is more like what I was always told to expect at a Weyr. How soon is too soon to request a transfer, sir?"

Valketh 's lazy observation of Aleith snaps into taught lines as the young queen suddenly launches herself upward and on to the feeding grounds. Anything X'ndar may have been about to say is cut short with muttered "Would appear this knot'll be weighing heavy sooner then I expected." his eyes tracking to the young goldrider that comes flying through the rain from the direction of the springs. Tegara's words of finding Breena are met with a hike of brow from the former Southerner "Look me up when this is over. I might be able to help. X'ndar, that lugs rider." the twitchy brown with the scarred flank pointed out.

R'layn's mouth drops open as his dragon's motives for coming here become, well, pretty sharding obvious. He barely has time to yell the dragon's name before Talurith has sprung into action, all that twitchy, contained energy suddenly released in a powerful jump and sweep of his wings. Off he goes in pursuit of Aleith! R'layn, still gaping, half steps, half stumbles out into the rain, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I /knew/ it as well, that ruddy...!" He spins on his heel at the arrival of the flustered gold rider, and he closes his eyes so that rain streams from his hair over his eyelids.

Kerinath was eager, and didn't take much encouragement to bound after the queen, in a half run, half glide, keeping low to the ground to adviod the bigger dragons. M'kin on the other hand groans softly.. "Ralla is going to kil me..."

V'delin splashes his way toward the Telgari riders, stomping his boots to try to get some of the wet out, to no avail. He shelters the bundle with his arm and one flap of his jacket, the other up at his temple to brush the raindrops from his eyes. "Fort's duties" mumbled as he approaches, this coinciding with Imirath's restless rumble as Aleith leaps. "While I as hoping to stay and warm up," he commiserates with the Istan messenger, shifting the package. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind--but that sight sure brightens up the afternoon."

A'son sends another clearly irritated look the way of the other man. "Or it doesn't matter how big you are." Is the somewhat bland reply before he snaps his mouth shut and goes to put his hand out onto Nikoth's snout. "If I still can? Why?" He asks to I'daur, tone sounding somewhat perplexed. It's then that the bronze shakes his head, pulling away from him as his attention fixes onto the gold. Nikoth's eyes go blue to violet in a matter of seconds. "Oh..." And then Nikoth is gone, into the sky and to the feeding grounds, apparently.

I'daur himself eyes Olwyn as she runs past, brows raised much as N'thei's are. "We'll talk to the Weyrleaders when we get back," is his answer to the weyrling's question, distracted at best as Zunaeth leaves him as well. "Y'catch on quick," the weyrlingmaster adds to A'son, tensely. "Don't figure you can drag 'em away now, though."

Aleith< Sareith is quick off the mark, practically bouncing into the feeding grounds after Aleith, tail lashing in eager appreciation. Behind him Grae says, with considerable understatment, "Oh. There she is." Ice eyes shade a trifle paler as Rei's emotions start to take control and he makes his first kill, wasting no time. He doesn't posture or bellow. Instead the buck is tilted towards Aleith, a silent tribute, before he bends to suck greedily at the carcass.

Aleith< Valketh has talons already reaching for the fat young calf he'd been eyeing ever since Aleith's glowing hide had come to his notice. Landing square on its back, its neck is wrenched around and snapped, maw dropping immediately to its throat as wings mantle over his kill. The other dragons ignored, just the young queen warily eyed for any movements skyward.

Aleith< Zunaeth takes a moment to crouch himself, studying Aleith before, laboriously, he gets back airborne to glide the short distance to the feeding peds himself, and effectively crush a herdbeast in landing, one big paw pinning it while his mouth goes to blooding. His wings stay spread, effectively declaring his domain at the same time he tries to avoid aggravating the old injury to his left one--at least not more than what's coming will already.

Aleith< Deluffath springs lightly onto the back of a smaller herdbeast, snapping at the neck and cracking it, the creature dies instantly and he can drink, sipping the crimson liquid with much near illmannered gusto. A low growl, or soft croon of delight, can be heard as the petite little bronze eats messily from the carcass.

N'thei rubs his hand across the top of his head thoughtfully while watching Wyaeth first swagger, then quick-glide along with all the other boys, and he laughs ruefully at I'daur's answer. "Sir, I think this is going to put a bigger damper on the firestone training than the thunderstorm did." Brilliant lad, N'thei is.

Aleith< Kerinath doesn't imediately hit the food, no, he lays on his belly, watching the queen with what might be considered the dragon version of the puppy dog eyes... it almost says that he's not good enough for her, but would love her forever if she just gave him attention, even if it was to kick him, then, with his tail swishing aggitatedly, he uses it to knock over a tender young herd beast as a gift for her before pouncing an older one to drain dry.

Aleith< Weyrs may be different but herdbeasts are all the same. Talurith glides above the grounds, hissing, and reaches for one of the panicking creatures, impaling them with his lonr talons. Suddenly eerily silent, the Istan bronze flicks his wings back, lands, and latches onto the screaming bovine's neck to drink. His eyes are a brilliant red, shot through with purple like two amazing gemstones. They glow brightly as the male fixes them on Aleith.

Aleith< Wyaeth hitches up and heads over, somehow accomplishing the feat of making it look like it's just a stroll even in haste. His landing on the food side of the fence is still graceless, but it affords him the chance to scare the bejeezus out of an already panicked buck. Gunshot-quick, he snaps it up and guzzles down, broody eyes flicking around the competition.

Aleith< Nikoth flys over and lands, ceremoniously spreading his large wings to show off before catching and killing a young buck. The bronze opens his great maw to the neck and begins to feed, somewhat improperly at first. He stops abruptly, growling into the air and head swinging to stare back momentarily at the bowl. The young dragon then throws his jaws open and goes down once more and sucks the animal dry.

Aleith< Aleith circles the feeding grounds in a glide, panicking the already frightened herdbeasts even more, seeming to delight in the aura and aroma of fear rising from them. Finally, she drops like a stone on a wherry, shrieking triumph as she crushes it beneath her. She gracefully steps back off it and arches her long neck to take the dead beast inside it. As she starts to bite down, however, she stops, shaking her head as if trying to rid it of some annoying insect. She drops it, then goes for it again, getting so far as to rip a chunk from it this time before dropping it again.

"Was bound ta happen I reckon." X'ndar exhales in a resigned tone, when Valketh hits that first herdbeast, displaying his clear intent on chasing the young queen. Olwyn gains a brief mark of his attention, then hands get shoved into his pockets. An air of ease settling about the large frame as the other riders seem to draw longer study from the Telgari weyrlingmaster, their various reactions amusing him for some or other reason.

Olwyn blushes faintly and holds tighter to her towel as she notices the large number of people around, but her attention is quickly diverted by the events on the feeding grounds. She stomps her foot in the mud impatiently. "No, Aleith! Drop it! Blood only! I said blood!"

Aleith< Imirath springs, leaving V'delin behind with a dousing of water across his back, his lunge carrying him a good way across the bowl, the slight and sinuous queen kept within his hunter's view. The meal to come is disregarded as nothing other than show, and as such, he seizes on the moment to grasp a herdbeast by the neck and to fling it at a squat bronze from Igen, bellowing triumph as it strikes.

M'kin makes his way over to the other riders, the Istan brown rider making no attempt to hide his amusement at the queen's bad timing to get a good look at her rider, despite his protests that some girl was going to kill him.
"Yeah, I'daur. Any chance N'thei and I could get that flight lesson /now/?" Are A'son's words to the Weyrlingmaster. "Because it looks like we're going to get it the old fashioned hands on way /first/." His eyes are following the path of Nikoth as the dragon flies and then disappears. A brief expression of concern and worry flickers over the man's face as his eyes go blank. "No." He mutters, likely only loud enough for those right nearby to hear. Only now when his attention returns from Nikoth does he fully notice Olwyn. His eyebrows lift at her jacket and towel, then he glances a the two men he's with.

Aleith< Dragons to the left of them, dragons to the right of them. The herdbeasts are understandably in a panic, and Zunaeth takes advantage of the turmoil the other males are causing to snag with one set of claws a frightened beast that comes too close to him without ever having to leave the ground again. Only once he's dragged it over to him does he release the first, working quickly through them and not wasting time trying to get every drop of blood out--a good thirty turns of practice have made him quite efficient at this. The same procedure works for a third beast, and then he's pausing, slowing to eye Aleith calculatingly, no more fooling about with blood.

R'layn has got over his initial surprise and slight anger, especially with Olwyn nearby. The Istan pats at his wet hair, grumbles a little, and then glances around. "Who else is thinkin' that we need to get out of this weather?" He asks out loud, looking around, blinking away the rainwater.

Aleith< Deluffath roars, true, he's a little thing for a bronze, but he's working on it! The little bronze grabs another herdbeast and whirls it around like a child with a kite, squeezing until the neck breaks. He drops it to the ground in front of him with a thud and rakes his talons across its flank. Once disembowled, he drinks hungrily.

Aleith< Sareith hisses at an unfamiliar brown as it crowds his wingroom. Then the large bronze takes advantage of the chaos the rain ad the others are causing to snag another beast as it runs past, bawling in terror. A thunderclap punctuates Aleith's resistance, and Rei turns his attention back to the source of his desire, ready to encourage and support his queen, whatever her desires may be. Her rider? Yeah, sure, let her yell. His soul attention is fixed on Aleith, the buck sucked dry as an afterthought.

Aleith< Valketh sends a threatening rumble to a younger brown that lands so boldly near him, tail lashing from side to side in his agitation. A powerful leap, buckles another herdbeast under his weight as with a deft flick of talons it's turned over and the soft underbelly exposed to sharp ripping teeth. Entrails slither their way down his gullet as he makes short work of this, his second kill. Distracted just briefly, purple tainted eyes rake appreciatively over the golden form in the killing grounds.

Aleith< Kerinath swats down another herd beast that gets to close in his panic, and happily pounces and starts drainin that one as well... he seems to think he needs all the blood he can get to keep up with the big boys.

"Faranth," mutters I'daur. He agrees, "Ain't never going to learn to flame at this rate. Well. Least we probably won't win." Which is apparently some comfort to him, as he looks over the two younger bronzeriders with him. "Yeah. Here's the basics. They blood, they fly, somebody gets lucky and the rest get drunk and lucky. Oughta be right up you two's alley," is his sarcastic reply to the request.

Z'lo grinds his jaw. "Queenflights give me a headache, no, flights in general do." He shakes his head from where he's standing next to Gr'din. "Faranth, but Deluffath's determined. I've only seen him swing a herdbeast to kill it once, when we were Weyrlings and the master took us onto the feeding grounds for the first time."

N'thei, amusedly, "I've always preferred the learn-by-doing method myself anyway." So saying, he clearly stops listening to I'daur's words of wisdom at that point, taken up with surveying Olwyn in a downright lascivious way, though his words are utterly benign; "Miss, you might want to..." He suggests with a gesture rather than words the pulling up of the towel, pantomiming the holding closed of a towel at the front of his own chest.

Aleith< Talurith doesn't so much as bat an eyelid at Aleith's unusual tactic with the wherry. Nor does he do the big macho thing that most of the other males are doing. The large bronze is sating his desire for blood for the time being, and keeping a careful eye on the young gold. With the bovine drained, he lumbers without grace to swat at a wherry, drawing it in so that when he dips his head to blood his neck arches, showing off the glittering colour of his throat and ridges.

V'delin looks up, regarding the goldrider with even more interest as it seems she's the one battling with the dragon in the feeding grounds. The comments of the weyrlings from High Reaches nearby about the timeliness of flight lessons brings a smirk, and an expression of earnestness is shared with Z'lo. "Ways to handle that, the headache. Telgar brew's the right thing for it, if you can hold your liquor."

Aleith, for a few moments, ignores her suitors as she fights with her rider. The queen shakes her head again, reaching for wherry again, but after another hesitation, she complies, going for the neck and drinking deeply. The posturing of the males gets another contemptuous look and snort as she snags a herdbeast galloping past. This time, she goes straight for the throat, gulping down the hot blood greedily.

A'son's complaint of receiving his flights lessons firsthand draws a rumbling chuckle from X'ndar, the 'Reaches weyrlingmaster offered an almost sympathetic look. Z'lo's comment alters that chuckle into a strained laugh "Ista, you just got to let him be. The headache occurs when you lose and the wine becomes company for the night." in agreement with V'delin. Yup, flights are obviously not a point of distress for this brownrider.

Aleith< Aleith, for a few moments, ignores her suitors as she fights with her rider. The queen shakes her head again, reaching for wherry again, but after another hesitation, she complies, going for the neck and drinking deeply. The posturing of the males gets another contemptuous look and snort as she snags a herdbeast galloping past. This time, she goes straight for the throat, gulping down the hot blood greedily.

Gr'din glares at N'thei and moves away from the overhang and out into the pouring rain. A crash of thunder nearby doesn't phase him. Instead he works his way over towards Olwyn, pulling off his jacket with one hand. Looming over her, his movements are surprisingly gentle as he reaches out to try to grab her dangling sleeves to offer them to her, mumuring gruffly, "Don't give 'em any more reason to stare, Wyn." With the other hand, he offers out his own jacket to tie around her waist. Large as it is, it should cover her mostly to her ankles and then some. His expression is concerned, the human rider warring with Sareith's growing excitement and lust.

Aleith< Wyaeth hunkers back toward the fence when Aleith makes her belle-of-the-ball entrance, the rumble in his belly a hard read, maybe amused or hungry or threatening. By now, gunmetal talons have disembowelled two more herdbeasts, and buckshot splatters of blood sprinkle his chest and shoulders. He seems, for all the mayhem, to be having a fine ol' time of it, just lining 'em up and knocking 'em back one after another.

Aleith< Imirath suckles at the neck of a large beast, his talons having raked a tidy gash across its lifeline. After he's drunk deeply, he slits it clean open, exposing the innards, and drags it toward the conflicted queen Aleith, tempting her with the delicious scents of the fresh, inviting meal.

R'layn mumbles under his breath when nobody replies. His gaze alights on Olwyn as Gr'din approaches her, and for a moment his face flashes with jealousy; a hunger that is his dragon's and not his own. It's gone by the time he clears his throat, shivering in his sopping clothes. "We need to get her inside somewhere," he says, louder this time, with pointed looks to the other male riders. "She'll freeze out here in, er, just that."

Aleith< Nikoth discards the first beast, moving rapidly to the next. It's caught quickly and blood drained with some level of efficiency. Aleith's entrance is rewarded with another one his wing flaring, loud bugeling, look at me set of antics. Ignored or not, he'll be moving onto the next beast, his lust fueling his desire to blood once more.

Aleith< Deluffath looks up from his third herdbeast, tongue smacking the edges of his maw to get the last of the blood. He roars in appreciation of the drink, the company, and his good luck to have a shot with a lovely lady. His eyes glitter amathyst like gemstones just unleashed from a box of treasure.

Aleith< There's a dangerous sounding growl as some of the younger bronzes try to swat him around, and he digs his talons into the ground to hold him steady, Kerinath was not going to be moved from his place of being able to eye the beautiful lady.

Olwyn, most of her attention taken up by Aleith, automatically holds out her arms and lets Gr'ding make her a bit more presentable. She relaxes just a bit as the queen finally complies and a bit of sense comes back into her eyes. "Thanks, Grae," she murmurs and dreamily heads for and then up the stairs leading to the queens' weyrs.

Aleith< Rain dilutes the blood and gore splattered grounds, turning trampled areas to mud quickly. Sareith tilts his head up, letting the rain wash the stains from his maw after this third kill, dispatched and drunk while Aleith took her second. He snarls softly, hopping away from the pack and perching on an outcropping of rock, amethyst eyes never leaving Aleith. The splashing of the rain washes the mud from his as well, as though his bath were a tribute too to his clutchmate, tail twitching eagerly, wings half spread in anticipation.

M'kin licks his lips, and nods a bit to the other Istan rider.. "Yeah.. rain's not a good idea..." He's really not all that aware of much other then the fact the towel wrapped woman was getting covered and wandering away.
Riaceth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her aloft.

Aleith< Imirath senses that Aleith haughtily notes, >>I am not a hatchling to need to be fed.<<

Aleith< Two herdbeasts down, but Talurith is still thirsty. With a hiss - the first noise he's made in a little while - he gives a little jump that lands him on a second bovine, this one fat and ungainly. Eyes more maroon than purple now, he drains the body of the creature swiftly, before lifting his head and opening his wings, neck arched again and his gaze steadfastedly on Aleith. Let the lady make the first move.

Aleith< Zunaeth, sated, watches Aleith now, not the other males and not the herdbeasts. He has a relaxed posture, but he's too still, almost motionless as he saves up energy and studies the queen, her telling little movements, in a last-minute cramming session to prepare for what's soon to come.

A'son rubs his hand along his jaw. "Yeah, well. I guess we can handle that alright, I'daur. Though if it's going to be so easy, why bother ever having a lesson on it?" Is his distracted response to the older man. When Olwyn begins to disappear, it seems as if he automatically begins to follow after her, sporting a blank expression for now.

Aleith< Valketh isn't nearly as showy in his feeding. Despatching the second 'beast, the third is efficiently nailed to the ground with a squish of paw, talons spearing it into immobility. Aleith's look of contempt is met with one of intent from the old southern brown. The younger dragons are starting to annoy him now, this evidenced in the continual rumbling coming from his chest.

Aleith< Aleith glares at Imirath and turns away from the pre-slain beast, pouncing instead on one of her own. She drinks deeply, letting some of the viscous fluid escape from her jaws and paint her hide briefly before the rain washes it away. The herdbeast drained, she suddenly opens her wings and leaps into the air again, this time heading straight up into the storm.

N'thei smiles at Gr'din's glare, the kind of stupidly confident smile that only a weyrling who's never known what it means to lose a flight could summon up on such an occasion. Or maybe it's the smile of a big guy who's never known much in the way of fear. Suffice it to say, he smiles, and he goes on smiling when Gr'din starts wrapping jackets around the eye-candy. Distracted; "Couldn't you say that about a fair few lessons, A'son?"

Dragon< Imirath bespoke Aleith with >> I welcome you to my offering, beautiful queen. << Deferential is his tone, postulant is his burnt metal demeanor. >> Your rider restricts you. Would it not please you to feed? <<

"'Cause it sounds easy," replies I'daur, brushing water from his face as he glances around once at Olwyn, keeping track of her distantly. "And it damn well isn't. Let's move." He's one of the first to turn, limping after Olwyn when she sets the destination.

R'layn's lips thin as he looks away from the other riders, nodding at M'kin's agreement. Olwyn's exit causes a brief flare of alarm to darken his face, but that clears and the man strides after the Telgari rider, placing his feet carefully on the wet steps when he reaches them.

X'ndar's jaws tighten as the young goldrider heads off, however Gr'din's actions in helping her cover up is met with a nod of approval for all that he himself had been trying very hard -not- to pay her oddly clad form too much attention. The rankling coming from N'thei swings the blonde-streaked head in his direction, an expressive brow creasing lines into his forehead as it lifts "Does this before bronzeling?" Without bothering to wait for an answer, long strides carry him in the direction that Olwyn had taken.

Z'lo heads after Olwyn, shivering. "I'll warm up a little there, then when I crash and burn I can get both warm and drunk in the living caverns." He reassures himself numbly. His eyes are vacent, the normal glitter dull.
A'son has reconnected.

Gr'din follows along after his jacket - uh, after Wyn - though his eyes are on the retreating goldrider's backside. With a little shake of his head to clear it, almost mimicing Aleith's earlier movement in the feeding grounds, he catches N'thei's smirk. Rolling his eyes a bit at the weyrling, he says to X'ndar as he falls in with the man, "Hopefully we won't get stuck with /that/ one for a while."

Aleith< Deluffath growls low as he shoots upwards after Aleith. Even though he's a bronze, his small size and narrow wings work against him in gaining altitude, his growling turning determined as the glittering bronze bravely heads into the storm after the shimmering golden treasure above.

Aleith< Sareith leaps a heartbeat after Aleith, unafraid of the storm, the bronze's hubris carrying him through the pouring rain and flashes of disorienting light. He quickly finds a thermal to carrying him up with the least amount of energy spent, casting after Aleith's glowing form hiding in that curtain of rain.

Aleith< Talurith has been waiting for this moment ever since he came to Telgar earlier in the day, and he is not about to let Aleith get away that easily. There's a scant second of delay between her leap and the Istan bronze's great jump, Talurith opening his mouth to bugle as his wings sweep down, pushing through the wet air. He is at one with his emotions and with the storm, water streaming down his sleek form as he arrows up after her.

Aleith< Valketh launches himself into the air with a sudden roar of warning to the younger dragons around him as Aleith takes flight. Eyes whirling in purple swirls, zone in on that shining tail, veins pumping with adrenaline for the chase, camouflaged body throbbing with the energy taken from his kills. Barreling past a few of the pack, the brown veers off to one side and seems to be heading off in the wrong direction until his cunning is displayed in the position he now takes up

Aleith< Wyaeth gets caught in the middle of guzzling. The way he swings his head and hunches his wings is a swipe short of wiping his mouth and throwing aside his herdbeast. The trigger-happy bronze is late off the mark! With water sheeting off of his dust-hued self, he barrels up after Aleith, shouldering his way toward the quicker dragons.

Aleith< And that's what Zunaeth's been waiting for; as soon as he sees the tell-tale signs of an impending take-off he's getting airborne himself--it's a struggle and the few seconds he saves by his study of the gold are likely the only things keeping him from ending up right at the very back. As is, he still wobbles of course as that stiff left wing betrays him, but as stubbornly as his rider he gets the motion under control and starts building up his altitude in pursuit: lacking in speed, but determinedly inexorable. At least for now.

Aleith< Imirath leaves the gutted beast behind, barreling over another with a turn of his blunt shoulder and snapping its neck with a twist of his jaw. His indulgence makes him miss her ascent into the storm, and his leap skyward is detained further as the rain obscures his vision, though he manages to toss his discarded meal into the path of another chaser, aiming to deter him. At last, he heavily takes wing.

Aleith< Kerinath takes his time getting up in the air, still giving the queen his pleading violet eyed gaze, keeping his flight below hers, crooning at her as he does. Why stress himself out when he could just let her pick on him
That name is neither a rider nor a dragon.

Aleith< Nikoth drops his half-drained buck before he launches himself up into the air. More extremely loud and probably annoying vocalizations are made on his part as he wings his way into the sky. Bronze wings are flung up and catch the air, getting him airborn with some ease. Any male dragon directly near him will recieve a thunderous and nasty growl on his part, violet eyes lived as he flies in pursuit of the gold.

V'delin nods asset to Z'lo's words. "Ale, ale, and more ale. Not as good as the --" his attention slips to where the queenrider has pulled the attention of all maleriders, and he falls silent, tipping his head quickly before starting after her along with the rest of the fray.

Aleith< Once the glowing queen is in the air, her temper vanishes. She soars through the updrafts, spiraling high into the air, trilling her joy of both the flight and the chase before abruptly turning and diving through the pack of males, flirtatiously letting her tail flick across a few of them, including Kerinath, before she adjusts her sails to let her momentum carry her back into the clouds.

M'kin isn't drooling anymore, but he still stares a bit, trying to catch glimpses of soft fleshy bits, following after Ril with another mutter about how his girl was going to kill him for being late.

Olwyn comes to her senses long enough at the entrance to her weyr to look with a bit of alarm at the large number of people, mostly males, following her. She gulps a bit, gives Gr'din an entreating glance, then heads inside.

Z'lo trots beside V'delin. "And no water. Wanna come back to Ista with me when we're done? The beaches are incredible, and besides, we might find ourselves a girl there. And definately more to drink. And this brownrider rider I know, S'ji, makes some wicked dishes with rivergrains." He's shivering, his eyes vacant and empty.

You head up a set of stairs to Aleith's ledge.
carefully for the puddles.

Bowl RP

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 04:53:44 GMT

Central Bowl
A stony field is the center of this great caldera, the size of which is unmatched at any other Weyr--for the whole complement of all the wings at Telgar could rest comfortably within its towering cliffs. Shaped in a perfect oval, the rock walls seem ideal for keeping the usual chill winds stirring about. The ground is mostly made of pebbles and rocks, some hued the milky shades of old quartz, though there are patches where softer dirt and even trees sprout up from the ground. To the south, the bowl opens onto the living caverns and the Weyrleaders' quarters; the immense entrance to the Hatching Grounds lies to the northwest. Heading southwest will lead one back out into the rocky mountain ranges around Telgar's protective walls. Dragons may be seen, relaxing or fresh from feeding, to the north, as well as the soft lapping sounds of Telgar's lake touching the sandy shore. The Weyrling Barracks, always aflutter with activity, are to the direct west. If you're looking for the 'dutypair' to take you to an outweyr destination, they can be found here. The meadow near the lake is strewn with wild flowers, like little stars of pink, yellow, and white. The ground by the the barracks is quite muddy.

Sareith smugly drapes a wing over Suraveth. He's clearly not sure why he should be so smug - maybe that's just his usual expression. Grae eyes Ronari. "Good looks. Right. You must've got oil on the brain." To Haisen he shrugs. "I didn't know it was supposed to turn out like this, but I'm not sorry." He directs a sappy look to Rei, and then comes back on topic, "R'dur? No, not since the hatching."

Tausreth preceeds C'mryn, by a lot, it seems. He comes prancing out of the barracks, all weyrling-wobbly and bright-eyed, and goes straight for the mud.

Suraveth allows the wing to drape over her smaller body with no complaint, and she looks about to lower her head to doze when Tausreth comes prancing out of the barracks. A warble of greeting is extended to the other bronze, an invitation to join her and Sareith instead of the mud. Ronari is mildly surprised at the appreance of Cam's dragon--without any Cam. She peers about for the other Weyrling, a silly smile on her face at the young bronze's antics. "Nor I. Sura /is/ my dream girl, no doubt. And no, I haven't seen R'dur, you need him for something?" She asks distractedly, still looking for the missing dragonboy.

With the sudden emergence of another weyrling dragon, Haisen's comfort level starts to drop at an alarming rate. She eyes down the young bronze arriving from the barracks, the usually-sulky traveler starts to take a step back from the group. "Uhh," she starts at Ronari's question drawing a blank before she shakes her head. "Need to see if he got any updates on the search. Not that I need him for that or anythin'," she's quick to add, looking squarely at Ronari as she pulls forth a flask from her right pocket. "He just... seem so keen on helpin' is all."

And then, there is a C'mryn. He yawns hugely as he exits the barracks, and blinks sleepily towards the group. "Hey," he offers, waving a little. Tausreth elicites a little snorty-humph towards his clutchmates, but seems perfectly happy in the mud. He does, however, offer what could be the dragonic equivilant of an eyebrow waggle towards Suraveth.

Gr'din asks curiously, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort from Haisen, "What search?" Sareith merely watches Tausreth. What is this strange substance you seem to want to know so much about. He's comfortable enough right where he is, providing the bit of bulk for Suraveth to lean against. Grae eyes Cam. "Didn't you just get him clean?"

Step by dainty step, Aleith makes her way out of the barracks, Olwyn by her side. The pair stick close as they have since the Hatching, the human half letting a hand hang down to lightly rest on her dragon's head. At the sight of the crowd just outside, the weyrling stops in surprise. "Oh! We're not disturbing anything, are we?" Wyn asks as her dragon croons a greeting to her clutchmates.

Ronari waves to Olwyn as Suraveth returns the greeting. Having given up on Tausreth--who has an apparent fascination with mud--she croons to the petite gold, inviting her clutchmate to join her and Sareith in their 'dragonpile'. "Not at all, I just had Sura out for some fresh air. People've drifted in along the way. I seem to pick up the strays." She winks at Cam and Grae. "I think he /likes/ giving you extra work Cam. He againstyou composing a sequel to that ballad o' yourn?" Ari asks with an arched brow and a barely contained smile.

"Oh, uh, y'know," Haisen begins at Gr'din, waving a hand about as though they had talked about it frquently. "Got someone I'm lookin' for, a friend I was s'pose to meet up with long before the clutch arrived here. Heard she came this way. Now, not so sure." With C'mryn and Olwyn arriving, she only gives them a sharp upward nod for a greeting as she finds her comfort in popping the lid of her flask.

Sareith rumbles to Alieth. He has another wing, and he offers it for the gold to shelter under from the wind. Besides this means he can't mar his oiling. This produces a proud, sappy smile from Gr'din - just lookit his little man! - and he says to Olwyn, "Nope, Ronari just picked us up, like she said. We followed her home and now she's gonna keep us." As Haisen pops the flask, the bronzeling's expression falls and he says, "You know, that's so not fair - it's not ale is it? The Weyrleader has some from Lemos that's to die for."

"Of course I did, we just..." and then C'mryn catches sight of his dragon, and his jaw drops. "Jays, Tausreth!" The poor boy looks utterly destroyed as he watches his bronze wallow in the mud, thoroughly coated from nose to stubby tail-tip. With a dejected look, Cam continues onwards towards the group, looking in disbelief at his lifemate. "What? Oh, yea, well... that'll have to wait - I knew you got it, though! Neither you nor Rilkie has said a darn thing about it, though." There's a hand-wave towards Haisen, Grae, and Olwyn.

Aleith exchanges a long look with Olwyn, the girl's eyes unfocusing a bit, then with a happy trill, makes a beeline for the non-muddy bronze. She snuggles up under his wing as best she can, not fitting as well as the green, but doing so far better than most golds would at any age. Olwyn gives Haisen a smile in greeting, then raises a querying eyebrow at C'mryn. "You write ballads?" she asks curiously.

"Oh he writes them quite well." Ronari quips, then shakes her head. "Unfortunately for him, not well enough to win." She grins and leans back, twisting to crack her back. That donw, she sighs in contentment and places a hand on her chest. "Yep, my heart's still whole and intact Cam, you'll have to do better next time." She says with a smug grin. For a moment her eyes unfocus as Suraveth demands an explanation. Satisfied with what she's told apparently, the tiny green snorts at the antics of humans and stretches her neck under Rei's head to get a better look at Aleith.

There's a quick, suspicious look from Haisen at Gr'din when her flask gets noticed, looking much like the bronze weyrling was about to wrest the thing from her hands. "Ale?" she echoes, brows furrowing before she shakes her head. "Naw. Not strong enough f'me. /This/-" and she briefly holds up the flask, -"is whiskey. From Bitra." She follows through with a long pull from it, letting out a barely-heard satisfied sigh afterwards. With the corners of her mouth dimpling at Gr'din's expression, "Guess you'll have to wait, huh, weyrling?" and the title is slurred, faint amusement in the woman's voice as she playfully waves the flask. The talk of liquor is one thing that, atleast, seems to halt the traveler's steps from retreating at the moment. And she's definitely not above taunting.

Sareith is perfectly content. His rider isn't nagging him about oiling, he has a babe on each arm. Life is good. ignoring the comments about ballads for the moment, he half groans at Haisen. "You're a cruel woman, you are. No whiskey for me until after he's grown." A grimace for that restriction, and Rei tilts his head up, crooning softly. "No, I don't like whiskey more than you, it's just..." He subsides, getting that distant look common to the new weyrlings as they attempt to explain subvocally.

Aleith seems fine with accepting the shared attention from the bronze, more concerned with getting affection at all right now than worried about having to share it. Olwyn glances at the pile o' dragons and stifles a giggle. She doesn't, however, try to keep the grin from her face at Gr'din's complaints. "Oh, poor baby. At least you won't be waking up with an aching head from overindulgence for a while," she suggests teasingly.

C'mryn just snorts. "Well, you're only half the judges. I've yet to hear Rilkie's opinion of it yet." And then he'll stand, and look grumpy, and glare daggers towards his dragon. For his part, Tausreth raises his head and gives a bawdy croon towards his sisteres - Sareith who? - and wallows. Ahh, mud.

Suraveth returns the croon with an agreeable warble of her own, seemingly oblivious to anything meant by Tuasreth's call. Bawdy means nothing to her yet. She then nudges Sareith's side and wriggles out from under his wing, trotting over towards Tausreth. She reaches the edge of the mud and daintily lowers her snout to the gooey substance. She sniffs, then licks it. Immediately Ronari jumps as her green recoils from the stuff, squawking in a very undignified fashion.

"Ha, ha." Haisen puts forth slowly, slightly sing-songish at Gr'din's groan. "And I'll take 'cruel' as a compliment, so." The growing return grin does little to make her pretty by its crookedness, and it only makes its cameo appearance briefly. Another pull from the flask and it's gone, hiding into one of her coat pockets as she looks from one weyrling to the other, stopping only briefly on each weyrling dragon.

C'mryn coughs, and pretends his dragon really isn't being such a snot. Really. Perfect gentleman. But licking mud is something he can't ignore. With a sigh, he heads over to the large mud-wallow and his messy dragon. "Alright, up with you. Come on now." For his efforts Tausreth simply flips a wing, splattering mud at both his lifemate, and his sister. To his sister, he offers an apologetic croon of sorts, and thumps, laying belly-down in the mess.

Sareith rumbles in amusement as one of his babes abandons him, and finds it less to her liking than sheltering against him from the wind. A smooth croon is given to Aleith - she hasn't abandoned him - as Grae snorts at Haisen. "Good, cause it was a compliment. Heard there's a bar at Ista where you can get all sorts of stuff like that. When we're able to fly - and drink - again, we'll take you there and you can buy the first round." A smirk at Olwyn, "It wasn't /so/ bad. Now, Sera's tea? To make me better? /That/ was bad."

Tenli isn't a very remarkable figure so the fact that she's been standing in the massive archway into the weyrling barracks for a while is only a matter of fact. Iridith, however, is a much more riveting figure as the adult green dragon wings down from her ledge, spiraling swiftly down to land midst the weyrlings. The green's rumbling sounds suspiciously like the laughter that shortly rises from her rider's throat. A succession of claps aims to garner attention and with a pointed *look* for Tausreth, the elderly woman calls out: "Think it's high time for ya to dunk him in the water, Trouble." With a capital T too.

Aleith wrinkles her muzzle in distaste as Suraveth abandons the pile and approaches the mud. She gives a little snort of displeasure as some of the muck is thrown around, fortunately none of it hitting her, then trills back at Sareith, clearing preferring him to the mud. Olwyn shakes her head at Gr'din, her look of distaste matching her dragon's. "Both sound less than appealing. Be careful that he doesn't drop you *between* on the way /back/ from the bar, Haisen." When the weyrlingmaster claps for attention, she turns attentively, saluting. "Ma'am," she greets her superior obediently.

Suraveth shakes her head vehemently, trying to rid herself of the acrid taste. She squeals as mud is splattered on her, and gallumphs back towards her bonded, creeling piteously. It is then that Iridith is noticed, and the smal greenling skids to a halt and stares upwards, the mud forgotten. Her head is tilted at an odd angle and she croons curiosity up to the older dragon. Ronari turns and salutes the Weyrlingmaster, although she can't keep the smile from her face. "Please excuse Suraveth ma'am. Anyone or anything new and she's off, with or without me."

The spring air temperature feels comfortable. What was strong gusts that could push a man around is now just a firm wind. It can still be felt - though it won't knock anyone down.

Tausreth might be oblivious to pointed looks, but C'mryn is not. He winces, and ambles forwards just a little. "Yes, ma'am." He shoots Haisen and her flask a glance, with a clear 'wish that were mine' look on his face. "I had just washed him too, honest!" Tausreth huffs as Suraveth runs away. Girls.

With a few coughs, feigned rather than actual, "Me? Buy the first round?" Haisen repeats in mild shock, with widened eyes to boot. Then with a click of teeth, "I'll drink up the first round. You'll be lucky to get the second, for that matter." In other words: don't hold your breath. Olwyn's comment has her raising brows as she looks at her, "I'll make a note not to ride with him then," she answers wryly, brushing back straggly-looking hair from her face. Olwyn's sudden attention to the weyrlingmaster has hers, turning to see Tenli and instinctively straightening from her slouch. She studies Tenli for a moment before starting to back away, gesturing sharply towards the playing dragons. "I'm on my way out," she states quickly, trying to move from the class if there was one going in session.

Rilkie and and Ancaith appear in the mouth of the weyrling barracks a little after Tenli does. Looking out towards the ruckus in the bowl, she then turns and asks, "Ma'am. Are we needed?"

"Aye, they tend to do that, child. Just means you have to think three steps ahead and anticipate what they'll end up doing." The greenrider's pet name lacks condescension, she is, after all, visibly turns older than anyone here. When Olwyn and Ronari salute, Tenli returns it in kind and then winks to the others gathered. The wink pauses briefly at Haisen and the lanky woman nods, mischief dying off into respect, with a lingering look for the flask the woman has about her. "Off to the lake with you lot, Iridith'll make sure they don't get too far deep and it's easier than carrying buckets over to dump over your own brand of trouble, Trouble." C'mryn's new nickname. "You're welcome to join and tease 'em with your flask, Haisen." Before the name there's only a bit of hesitation to bring just who the former candidate is to mind.

Gr'din protests in general to Haisen, Olwyn and Tenli, all three, "So unfair!" A belated salute to the greenrider as he starts nudging Sareith towards the lake. "I'd nevver drop anyone between. Not even you, Haisen." A bit of a grin for her, as Sareith relutantly moves from his sheltering of Aleith.

Tausreth takes a bit more prodding, but once Cam adds physical to mental, the dragon is up. It might be a curious sight, the Weyrling leaning his weight into the haunches of his muddy bronze, but it works. "Off to the lake, then." At least he seems to know where it is. As he walks away, he grumbles a distinct, "Not Trouble..." under his breath.

Aleith nudges the bronze affectionately, then as her human gestures towards the lake, begins to make her way there as quickly as her short legs will let her without tripping. "Yes, ma'am," Olwyn's words echo her dragon's actions and she begins to follow the gold. "We'll see," she notes with a grin as she passes near Gr'din. "Your capacity might be somewhat diminished after too long without. Maybe you'll just not be coordinated to get on his back at all," she suggests brightly.

Ronari falls into step next to Cam, and moves to swing her arm up around his shoulders. "Not /too/ much trouble at any rate." She says as Suraveth joins the two, excited about this new place.

Rilkie nods simply. "Okay. To the lake!" She leads the little brown off in the right direction after her clutchmates, running a little to catch up with Cam and Ronari.

"I might make them all cry," Haisen notes to Tenli dryly about the taunting, the faint lift of a corner evident as both shoulders lift. The offer takes pause, dark eyes going towards the lake of her previous destination when it looks like all the weyrlings were heading in that direction. "Uhh, well.." she drawls out, looking at the lake again until Gr'din's comment has her looking his way. "Not even?" she repeats his wording with an obvious scowl before she turns to following slowly after them, showing reluctance.

Telgar Weyr Lake Shore
The vegetation thickens near the lake, becoming a meadow that runs along the edge of a narrow, sandy beach. The sands spill down into a crystal lake to the north, lapping against the crater walls to the north and east. A fence runs northwest-southeast, blocking off the lake from the feeding grounds. The grass has a clean green color and is tender with spring. The first water lilies on the pond are blooming in yellow and white, and pink, yellow, and white wildflowers scatter the field. The white climbs even into the trees, with blowing petals amid the new green leaves. The herb garden, still mostly cut back for the winter, is hemmed about with crocuses. The lake is cast into dark shadows, though it reflects the lights from the weyrs and the sky overhead, making a constellation in the waters.

C'mryn grumps, but allows the arm. He's not really angry... really. Tausreth prances ahead, splattering mud in his wake as he wobbles and trips in his youngster's awkwardness. "Can he go into the lake, Ma'am?" It doesn't look like Tausreth is going to wait for an answer, already heading towards the water's edge with a 'plow-in' look to his pace.

Rounding out the flank of the weyrling gathering, Tenli walks just beyond her dragon. The green submerges herself into the water to create a mini pond with her green hide barrier delineating a 'safe' area. "The moment they seem to get tired, help them back else you'll be sleeping out here in the cold tonight with them, wherever they decide to splat themselves and then tomorrow, you'll have to deal with an angry Breena."

Ancaith barrels on towards the lake, carrying his body in a waddle-run at a faster speed than Rilkie's walking. "Ancaith!" she calls after him, "Wait! I don't know exactly what we're supposed to be doing yet!" She seems a little overwhelmed. "Can't you just be a /little/ patient?" She nods towards Tenli, then runs to catch up with her dragon. "Now, did you hear her? Don't tire yourself out."

Haisen is last to make it to the shore, hands and flask in her pockets as she scuffs over to where the weyrlings are gathering. Not intruding, the traveler chooses a spot in the vicinity of the group and slumps down to sit on the ground. Once seated comfortably enough, she enages in her choice of pasttimes: drinking. The flask comes out and she's popping the lid once again with calm.

Sareith eyes the water apprehensively. He's already had his bath today. And oil, see? the bronze examines his wings and then cautiously investigates the lake. "He's not /too/ big for me to lift yet, ma'am," he says to Tenli, "But it won't be long." And then lower, to Olwyn, "Like my capacity'd diminish. Watch your tongue, lady." As Haisen makes with the drinking again, he watches almost wistfully. "Oh yeah, you're so buying."

Aleith pauses as she approaches the lake, looking first at the full-grown green, then back over her shoulder at Olwyn. When her rider nods encouragingly, the gold approaches the water cautiously, but determined, and steps into the lake. With each step, she grows more confident and moves deeper. She trills in excitement, then croons an encouragement to Sareith. Olwyn smiles fondly as she watches her dragon, then grins mischievously at Gr'din. "I don't know," she says doubtfully. "A turn and a half is a long time."

Tenli, always good at keeping her distance and blending in with the background, does so here, picking a spot on the sandy shore to settle her limbs down into, arms folded over her knees and maintains an absent-seeming watch.

"I'll buy if y'give me cause to," Haisen is oh-so quick to answer Gr'din with as she raises the flask and tips it to her mouth. After the indulgent drink, and a flick of a glance in the weyrlings' direction, "Not seein' cause yet, son." Yeah, as if she's any older than him to be calling him 'son'.

Given the go-ahead, Ancaith finishes his wobble-run all the way into the water, where he splashes and creates waves with his wings, excited and intrigued by this new activity. Rilkie hears distantly the talk of drinking elsewhere on the beach, but as she doesn't really care and is besotted with her brown, she's all eyes on her little dragon, wading into the water behind him. "Now! Don't splash the whole weyr!"

Gr'din says tightly, "I'll thank both of you to keep your dire predictions of my ability to hold my liquor after this forced abstinence to yourselves. Or I'll be showing you all up at the first opportunity - legal -" he shoots a glance at the seemingly oblivious Tenli, "Legal opportunity." At this, Sareith pitches headfirst into the lake, and comes up squawking, completely undignified. "Shards!" He hurries forward to soothe the irritated beast. "It's just like the tub in the barracks is all, Rei!"

Tenli plays oblivious well, not even an ear twitch betraying what she hears. Iridith, on the other hand, is bemused at the sudden waves caused by Ancaith's arrival into the water. Luckily, the sheer height of her sides buffets a lot of the splash and with a brightened croon a wing flick sends a shower of water drops towards the dragonets, and in particular Ancaith.

Ancaith looks perturbed for a fraction of a second, then decides he likes this new sensation. He spreads his wings out to catch the falling droplets, then lets them shudder to send a fine mist off of them. Rilkie's at his side, now, and is quite soaked, though the water doesn't even reach her knees. Laugher escapes from her mouth as she watches him.

Aleith's eyes whirl at Sareith's distress and she croons sympathetically at him, then whirls around as some of Iridith's splash hits her. She eyes the green curiously for a moment, then turns to look longingly at Olwyn. The teenager winces, then, bracing herself, wades into the water, wincing again as the temperature of it hits hers. She leans down to scoop up some sand and begins scrubbing the dragon, who croons, happy once again. As she begins to adjust (or becomes numb), she resumes her teasing of the older weyrling. "I don't know, Gr'din. If you /try/ to show us up, isn't it that much more likely that you'll overdo it and prove us right?"

Haisen's brows twitch at the weyrlings, then turns at the dragons' play in the water. She silences, a keen listener to all that's spoken by her as she pulls a few more drinks from her flask and tries to watches everything at once.
"Good stuff?" Tenli, proving that she's not all about looking the other way, flicks a quick look and a laconic question to Haisen.

Gr'din says, with complete dignity at odds with his soaked clothes and the little bronze butting his knees for a bath - now that he's wet and all - "I rarely overindulge. That was a special circumstance. Threadfall? Returning? Blowing my future plans to the red star and back? Not that they're remotely the same now." he looks down at Rei, gets that sweet, sappy, sentimental grin again, and scoops up some sand to start scrubbing.

Olwyn tries to scrub the gold as quickly as she can, but when the little dragon gives her one of those loving looks and croons, she can't help but slow down and do a more thorough job to please her lifemate. "No, I don't imagine that they are," she answers Gr'din absently, distracted by the growing bond with her dragon long enough to give him surcease from her ribbing.

A few more pulls from the flask and it disappears into one of her pockets as Haisen swiftly get to her feet. Flicking a glances at each present, "M'headin' back to the stalls," she announces to those close enough to hear as she nods a farewell to a nearby Tenli. Back to the weyrlings with a wry twist of lips, "Good luck," spoken dryly as she turns to leave.

When her question is avoided by Haisen, Tenli shades her eyes to seek out the departing woman. "I'll need some of that stuff you're hoarding there to even have a chance at good, let alone luck," she notes. Out of the corner of her eye, watchful as always, the state of the dragons rather than their riders are kept accounted for.

Sareith slogs out of the water. Grae says, "Yes, yes, now it's time for more oil - wait, you're hungry again? Well, okay, but no getting messy. You just had your second bath for today. Food and then oiling. And hopefully sleep after that." A little wave and the pair are off, trudging back towards the barracks with slow steps.

C'mryn has been happily scrubbing the muddy Tausreth this whole time, yup. And now, finally, he's starting to look a little cleaner. "Gah, don't roll!" is Cam's statement, trying to look angry.

"Good stuff," is what Haisen finally answers to Tenli, "and we'll see if I'll be nice enough to share. One day." Smirk. With that, the traveler turns to makes her way out back towards the bowl with further ado.

Even doing a properly thorough job, at this point, there's still not acres of dragon to be cleaned and Olwyn is able to finish scrubbing Aleith relatively promptly. She gives the dragon a final fond caress, then sloshes back out of the water, shivering. The gold stays behind for the moment, continuing to lunge through the water in movements made exaggerated by the liquid's viscosity.

Giremi pads towards the lake, hands stuck in pockets, pace slow. The gamboling of dragonets in the water draws his attention and he moves that way, face thoughtful.

Therese, being far more astute and adept at this weyrlingmaster thing than the elder Tenli, has slipped from the barracks with large beach towels at the ready for any weyrling who might have indulged with their dragon, as well as a thoughtful provision of warm drinks--the non-alchoholic kind--just after Gr'din departs. Tenli flashes the bluerider with a quick grin, somehow approving and abashed at the same time. "Trouble, Olwyn, how you doing out there?"

Tausreth lets out a baby bugle from his spot, splashing away in the water. It might not be mud, but it's still fun! C'mryn is giving his best impression of a hard-working weyrling, but his dragon is not making it easy. "He's clean... ish," he decides, ignoring his new nickname for the time being. Leaning back, he wipes a hand across his brow and catches Giremi's movements. There's a flicker, and then a wince, and finally a "Ah, shards."

"I'm doing fine, just c-cold," Olwyn stutters a bit as her teeth chatter, the wind chilling her as she gets out of the water. She makes a beeline for one of the towels, her salute and, "Ma'am," directed at Therese rather rushed as she pays more mind to getting warm than following the rules. The dragon hide covered Aleith continues her swim happily without regard to the temperature, approaching Tausreth and splashing back at him with her wide wings.

Giremi comes to a pause a few yards away and he spots C'mryn, a slightly sour look on his face now that he attempts to mask. "Hey there," he calls out friendly like. "Bathing day eh?"

"We can't afford you catching a cold or getting sick so warm up quick." Therese, a solemn sort, merely nods at Olwyn's salute, reproof more evident in her gaze than her actions. "Good evenin'," Tenli calls out cheerfully, a brittle hand lifted in a jaunty wave to Giremi.

C'mryn is either ignoring, or truly forgetting, those salutes. He just glances over towards Therese, and then ducks as a wave of water hits Tausreth (and, by default, himself). "Ack! Olwyn!" he cries, aiming his complaint towards the rider, rather than the gold. Tausreth takes it as fair game, and sets off to splash with his sister, while Cam turns tail and retreats for the shore. His teeth chatter as he makes his way, and he slings wet hair from his eyes. "Could say that," he answers Giremi, feigning innocence.

Olwyn, busy with wrapping the towel around her and squeezing out the bottom of her hair, either misses or ignores the reproof of the assistant weyrlingmaster. She does, however, give Cam a look of apology as the bronzeling retreats from the water. "Sorry," she says a bit sheepishly. Aleith warbles happily as Tausreth joins in her game, then daringly ducks underwater for a moment before pushing up from the bottom with all her might, making an even bigger splash.

Tausreth enjoys this game! He splashes at where his sister had been, but won't submerge completely. No. He'll wait on the top, and watch her shadow through the murky water. C'mryn finds himself a towel, and wraps it tight. "S'ok," he half apologizes. "Not really your fault anyways..." He sniffles a little, but doesn't look too bad off. Just wet. "Wish I had skin like them," he says jealously.

"Naw you don't," Tenli rebuffs C'mryn's thoughts with an interjection, "You wouldn't be able to feel much 'cept the warmth of sunshine and I'm sure." The greenrider doesn't hesitate to appraise the bronze weyrling with the surefire knowledge of a mother, "Your skin'd crack in places unimagineable. None of them getting tired, are they?"

Aleith, getting the hang of the water, becomes even more daring. She holds her breath and makes her way forward as quickly as she can with her somewhat uncoordinated movements, trying to "surprise" Tausreth with a nudge from below. Olwyn grins sympathetically at C'mryn. "At least they waited until spring to Hatch. Think of what this would have been like a month or two ago." She considers Tenli's question a moment, looking at her dragon in the water. "I think she'll be okay for a few more minutes. She's having a lot of fun."

C'mryn doesn't blush, but it's close. He makes several choking-cough noises, and is suddenly extremely interested in the actions of his dragon. Tausreth provides plenty of amusement, thankfully. He's flinging himself out of the water and 'pouncing' at Aleith's underwater form - those wings are good for something before flying! He does get nudge, and lets out a startled bugle, twists, and attempts to pounce her fleeing form. "He's alright... I think..." says Cam, concentrating on his bronze. "I'll pull him out in another minute - I don't want him to fall asleep on the beach."

Giremi looks out over the water, a slight grin on his face, though his head shakes. "Still pretty cold in there huh? They're all looking well," he addresses Tenli politely. "Congratulations too, belatedly to those of you I haven't extended them to yet," the harper calls over.

"Good idea." Tenli remarks agreeably. "Don't want either of them sleeping outside tonight. Therese?" The greenrider turns to find the blue all too close by, blinking as her pivot finds her nose bumping the other assistant's shoulder. "M'gonna get some food, watch 'em for me? Stay hail'n hearty for her, kids."

Aleith squeals as she's pounced from above. Since she's underwater, this emerges as little more than an outburst of bubbles. Surprised to find her mouth filled with water rather than air, she returns to the surface, her eyes whirling with a hint of distress. Rumbling in her discontent, she flounces back to shore without having to be called, retreating for the safety of her towel-covered rider. Olwyn pats her sympathetically as the gold buries her face in the towel, murmuring comfortingly though she shoots Cam a grin to show there's no hard feelings on her part. "Thanks, sir," she adds belatedly to the Weyrharper's statement.

Tausreth looks mildly surprised to find his playmate gone. Hey! That's no fair. He snorts from the water, but with a little encouraging from Cam, comes back to shore as well. His pace is no longer prancing, and he yawns widely as he reaches the lad's side. C'mryn slides a hand over his lifemate's shoulder. "Oil you when we get back," he murmers soothingly. And now, finally, he cannot avoid him any longer. Cam turns to regard Giremi, and plasters on a wide smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

Giremi nods Olwyn's way politely. "That's a lovely little queen you have there, Aleith is her name, right?" The harper turns slightly and fixes C'mryn with a measuring look. "Yes, you're looking very well, if wet, Cam -- C'mryn." Giremi catches himself and gives the former harper student a matching smile in return.
Olwyn rubs a bit of water from her dragon's headknobs and then scratches a headknob comfortingly. "Thank you, sir. Yes, her name is Aleith," she says fondly. Her eyes go unfocused for a moment, then she smiles apologetically at both men. "I'm sorry, but we'd better be heading back to the barracks. She's getting tired and I don't want to have the spend the night out here!"

"Yea, we'll be following soon," says C'mryn, glancing towards Tausreth. The dragon is already eyeing the sand as a possible napping spot. "Oh... might want to oil her first. I've got a bit left on my cot, if you want to use it - it's scented with something. didn't know it when I grabbed it. Kinda girly." And then he's facing Giremi again. "I'm doing well, as well, sir." At least he remembers his manners. "Are you just passing through or..." the dreaded 'p' word. Posted.

Giremi nods. "Of course, of course," he waves one hand. "Far be it from me to interfere. I"m just out for some fresh air," says the harper pleasantly. "Clear skies both of you," he concludes politely to Olwyn. "I'm glad to hear that C'mryn and he arches his eyebrows at the Candidate. Posted these two months at least, weyrling." Politeness through gritted teeth.

"Thank you sir," Olwyn tells the harper, the nods to Cam. "Thanks, I'll do that. Girly doesn't bother us," she says, then she and the little queen are off across the expanse of the bowl to the barracks.

Aleith

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 20:16:47 GMT

Aleith

ENAME:Ring of Fire Egg
EDESC:Carnelian fire wraps this egg in bright splendor, the colors rivaling a Neratian sunset. The egg is easily one of the largest in the clutch, though it would stand out by color alone. The crimson flares inward, licking orange tongues towards a golden ring of fire at the very center of the egg. Inside that ring is a darker oval of black - an onyx in an unusual setting. At the center of this darkness, still another pinpoint of pure golden light as a trap to draw in the unwary. Were it not for its size, it might be mistaken for a lava rock, turned cherry and molten by the fires in the center of Pern, shot out of a pimple in the earth onto the volcanic sands of the weyr.

DAM:Dam: Gold Daelyth out of gold Ladonyth (Jaela/Igen) by bronze Vaeth (R'yel/High Reaches), hatched at Igen Weyr on 20 Oct 1996.
SIRE:Sire: Bronze Niereth out of gold Soraeth (Ailani/Telgar) by brown Uralth (Z'nal/Igen), hatched at Telgar Weyr on 15 Jul 2006

HATCH0:Ring of Fire Egg has already started to fracture under the assault from within, but the dragonet has moved too quickly for anyone to catch a glimpse of it. That changes, however, as a golden wing spar finally breaks free, followed soon after by the rest of her: Telgar's newest queen, a Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling.

HNAME:Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling
HDESC:A coastal sky just before sunrise, pale gold and dew-heavy roses, washes this delicate queen from pert nose to tail, lending a diaphanous glow to her hide. A sculptor's chisel must have been used to carve out her sinuous neck, regal jaw, and the barely darker ridges which frame her large eyes. Shadows of glimmering bluish orchid can be seen amongst the brush strokes leading down the base of a strongly defined torso and lean flanks, lowlights complimenting her striking color. Curved ivory talons tip her dainty paws, while on her back gracious wings carry gossamer trails of the creamy rose glow of her hide in their webbing, the shading reaching up to mark more darkly along her spars. Her slight build radiates not only the inherited elegance of her dam, but the compassionate wisdom in her depthless ocean gaze.

IMPRESS0:Stepping into the ocean on a hot day must surely feel like this--the radiating heat of sand and sun melting away with each rushing wave of cool water. That's the feeling that floods over you, and it's only the presence of other candidates around you that indicate that you're still standing on the sweltering hatching sands. << Oh... where *are* you? >> It's hard to tell where the voice came from, but it's definitely there, and whoever owns that voice is rather unhappy and discouraged. It's surprised next, << Oh! >>, and a wave of pure, unadulterated joy washes over you, followed by that voice--*her* voice. << Oh, there you are, my Olwyn, and here I am! >> And there she is, the Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling, her eyes gone amethyst as she looks up at you adoringly. << Aleith, that's me, Aleith and Olwyn--oh, doesn't that sound nice--now we're finally together. Now can we go eat? >>

TEMPER:"Love is space and time measured by the heart." - Marcel Proust // Aleith is one of those dragons who simply exudes warmth and love, from the first moment that her mind touched yours, and gradually extending to all those with whom she interacts, for she's truly, unashamedly kind-hearted. She'll be the first to extend sympathy to one of her fellows who's being taken to task by the weyrlingmaster, for example, and full of encouragement when it comes time to try again. Her intuitive nature seems to lend a hand here--she's got a way with words, and always seems to know just what to say to make others feel better. She may even lend that gift to you, should you need it--another rider having trouble during training? A lower caverns girl brokenhearted at being another conquest for one of the Weyr's most charming riders? Trying to find the right words to say to someone worried about Threadfall? She's got an easy handle on all of those situations, and will happily help you navigate them with as much compassion and caring as possible. (see temper2)

TEMPER2:That soft heart of hers has a down side, however--she'll be fairly easily hurt, especially when she's young. At times, it might even be difficult to tell if she's upset by something real, or some imagined slight conveyed into someone's words where no offense was meant. As she ages, she'll be less prone to moments like that, both as she learns more about the way people and dragons all interact with one another, and as she learns to craft a tough outer shell for that softness inside, but the potential will always be there. (see temper3)

TEMPER3:Aleith will give her all in training, and approach it all with an open heart and an open mind, determined to put forth the best effort possible. Her favorite times, though, are the quiet times when there are no responsibilities to tend to, and she can let her imagination run free. There's no limit to the things that daydreaming mind of hers will come up with, and even if they're things that she'll never get to do or see--whether because they're out of reach or even because they're not real--it doesn't matter. To her, it's fun and it's relaxing and it's just amazing to realize, as she seems to often, that her thoughts can run in such wild directions. (see temper4)

TEMPER4:It must be said, however--there are definitely times when Aleith can be rather moody and unpredictable. Usually, it happens after one of those moments of hypersensitivity--she'll withdraw into that outer shell that she's tried so hard to develop, and she won't want to interact with anyone. Anyone but you, that is, for even in the darkest of moods, you're still the light of Aleith's life. However, should anyone else try to penetrate that shell, they'll find that she can be rather snappish and temperamental when she doesn't want to be disturbed. At no time will this tendency be more evident than when she's proddy. Even though it might only be a day or two beforehand, you'll still eventually be able to recognize this change in moods and be able to prepare, though all you'll really be able to do for *her* is simply weather the storm. (temper5)

TEMPER5:Once the time finally comes to rise, that daydreaming nature will take on a different side. Aleith *loves* flights, loves the freedom of taking to the skies without a rider (though she does love flying with you, too!), loves the way it feels, and most of all, she loves the males. She'll woo them with her graceful flight, tease them with flirtatious glances, and in general, do her very best to tie them all up into knots...and when it's all said and done, it might not be the best flier who wins the day, but the one who's managed to touch that ever-tender heart of hers. After all, by her nature, she's rather romantic, and the dragon that appeals to that side of her will undoubtedly be The One. When the chase is done, she prefers to keep her chosen mate close, and once she actually ends up on the sands with a clutch of eggs, woe betide him if he should leave for anything but the most dire of duty. The eggs themselves are given lavish motherly attention and affection, and even after they've all hatched and grown, her children will hold a special place in her heart...even if she can't quite remember why. (see temper6)

TEMPER6:If ever called upon to lead, she will do so with a fair mind and an open heart, and she'll love every minute of it. East or west, home is best, and what better way to express that maternal, domestic side than to take care of the entire Weyr? You'll always be closest to her, of course, but they'll all become her family, in a way--from the youngest of the weyrbrats to the oldest and grouchiest uncle, to every person and dragon in between. (see temper7)

TEMPER7:"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince // Through it all, there is one constant--you will never doubt just how much Aleith feels for you. You're her match in every way--her perfect companion and confidant, her best friend, and maybe it's not something that you can see or touch, but it's there, and it's powerful, and she'll never let you forget it. (see physical)

PHYSICAL:Unlike the rest of Daelyth's golden progeny, Aleith will be on the smaller end of the spectrum, when it comes to size--though, of course, she'll far outstrip all but the largest bronze. That relative petiteness will carry through to her build, as well; Aleith will always be elegantly svelte, graceful to a fault. (see voice)

VOICE:Soft and gentle or furious and powerful, Aleith's voice has a considerable amount of range and can display an incredible amount of emotion--so much so that words and images may not be necessary. She's quite adept, even as a young dragon, at conveying herself and her opinions through nuance and tone. Water imagery is prominent, with sparkling blues and rich greens the colors she tends to favor. (see inspiration)

INSPIRATION:Aleith's inspiration comes from the western Zodiac sign of Cancer (June 22-July 22). Cancer is the cardinal sign of its element, water, and is represented by the moon, with moonstone and pearl as its gemstones. Cancer is the fourth sign of the Zodiac, associated with family and domesticity. Individuals born under this sign are thought to have a kind, emotional, romantic, imaginative, sympathetic, nurturing, and intuitive character, but one which is also prone to changeability, moodiness, hypersensitivity, depression, and clinginess. In mythology Cancer is often associated with the Greek myth of the Lernaean Hydra, one of The Twelve Labours of Heracles and the mythical figure of Perseus, from the Greek myth of Medusa. Cancer is also associated with the Greco-Roman goddess Selene/Luna and sometimes the goddesses Artemis/Diana and Hecate/Trivia. Their trademark statement: "I feel." Links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cancer_(astrology) and http://www.astrology-online.com/cancer.htm. The two quotes (Proust and Saint-Exupery) both come from famous Cancerians, and to me, suited Aleith very well. (see desc-name-insp)

DESC-NAME-INSP:Nimiriel: I find that I desc better when I have a picture to help. In keeping with the dragon's theme, I went with the following: http://www.webshots.com/g/33/628-sh/50521.html. The actual desc was *heavily* edited and made much more wonderful by the much appreciated help of R'dur and E'tyn. From the two of them, I also got the name inspiration, as they mentioned that you are a big cephalopod fan. Aleith (Ah-layth), comes from Loligo pealei, Long-finned squid (found at http://www.thecephalopodpage.org/taxa.php) (In other words, I have the COOLEST NAME INSPIRATION EVER!) (see credits)

CREDITS:Egg desc by: Graedin // Dragon temper, impress message, physical, voice by Nimiriel // Desc kind of by Nim, but heavily modified by E'tyn and R'dur, who also edited and helped with name selection
SIZE:38modified by E'tyn andR'dur, who also edited and helped with name selection
SIZE:38

Post-hatching

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 20:15:34 GMT

Weyrling Barracks(#258RADHJL$)
This immense cavern is the home for weyrling pairs. A huge opening is the entrance, leading to the ground level bowl. The floor is not quite smooth, being gouged with numerous scratches and cracks, from the clumsy undergrown claws on equally clumsy dragonets. The indentations on the floor, made by millennial pressure of the growing dragons, are quite suggestive of their purpose. Most of them have furs in one corner of them, as the new riders sleep as near their lifemates as they can. A particular odour lingers in the air here, not quite pleasant.
The normal ruckus of the barracks is almost constant.

Contents:
DRAGONS: Iridith
PLAYERS: Olwyn Ronari C'mryn Tenli
OTHER: Ancaith, Tausreth

Obvious Exits:
WLM's Office Bowl

C'mryn shakes his head at Tausreth. "Probably so you don't choke. Choking is bad. And it's not a rule.. not really..." Is it? His has the lad thoughtful for a moment, before another glob is eagerly handed over. His hands might be covered in blood and goo, but he doesn't seem to notice.

After watching C'mryn with his bronze and making sure Ronari isn't drowning in the capricious whims of her green, Therese and Tenli resume meet'n greet duty, the latter ambling forward with a bucket and paddle for the newest arrival and then completely misses a beat. "Ah. I see." Gaping fishy mouth aside, the oil supply is held out unceremoniously to Olwyn. "Food is there," she points out trays of pre-cut meats by Ronari and C'mryn, other similar clumps scattered about the barracks. "If you tell me you and yours' names, I'll be able to refer you to something other than hey you." She grins, the picture of charm.

Ronari glances up as Suraveth finishes the last of her meat. Curious, the tiny green ambles over towards her golden clutchmate, creeling in curiosity and friendliness. <

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<lj-cut>
Weyrling Barracks(#258RADHJL$)
This immense cavern is the home for weyrling pairs. A huge opening is the entrance, leading to the ground level bowl. The floor is not quite smooth, being gouged with numerous scratches and cracks, from the clumsy undergrown claws on equally clumsy dragonets. The indentations on the floor, made by millennial pressure of the growing dragons, are quite suggestive of their purpose. Most of them have furs in one corner of them, as the new riders sleep as near their lifemates as they can. A particular odour lingers in the air here, not quite pleasant.
The normal ruckus of the barracks is almost constant.

Contents:
DRAGONS: Iridith
PLAYERS: Olwyn Ronari C'mryn Tenli
OTHER: Ancaith, Tausreth

Obvious Exits:
WLM's Office Bowl

C'mryn shakes his head at Tausreth. "Probably so you don't choke. Choking is bad. And it's not a rule.. not really..." Is it? His has the lad thoughtful for a moment, before another glob is eagerly handed over. His hands might be covered in blood and goo, but he doesn't seem to notice.

After watching C'mryn with his bronze and making sure Ronari isn't drowning in the capricious whims of her green, Therese and Tenli resume meet'n greet duty, the latter ambling forward with a bucket and paddle for the newest arrival and then completely misses a beat. "Ah. I see." Gaping fishy mouth aside, the oil supply is held out unceremoniously to Olwyn. "Food is there," she points out trays of pre-cut meats by Ronari and C'mryn, other similar clumps scattered about the barracks. "If you tell me you and yours' names, I'll be able to refer you to something other than hey you." She grins, the picture of charm.

Ronari glances up as Suraveth finishes the last of her meat. Curious, the tiny green ambles over towards her golden clutchmate, creeling in curiosity and friendliness. <<hello there!="there!">> She says to the gold, tail snapping as Ronari tries unsuccessfully to finish oiling her bonded.

Aleith might've been upset before, but there's no sign of that in her now, as she nudges at Olwyn's hands while they make their way into the barracks. Curious eyes try to take it all in, but there's a more pressing need, and she rumbles fussily.

Tausreth continues eating quickly, wolfing down the food. When he sees Aleith enter he offers her a smooth croon, like he did the earlier greens as well, before he has to focus back on C'mryn to continue eating.

Olwyn enters the barracks looking more than slightly dazed, keeping a hand on the gold as if that's the only grounding with reality she has. Tenli is blinked at for a moment, then the girl shakes her head as if to clear it. "I'm Olwyn and this...this is Alieth," she says in wonderment. She heads to the indicated meat tray and hesitantly offers the hatchling a piece, looking like someone caught in a dream.

"Olwyn and Aleith," Tenli plays the similar starts of their names off her tongue and considers. Her words of warning already elicit groans from those who have heard it multi-times over. "Be sure to tell her to chew, mind. Baby dragons aren't so brilliant about knowing what to do right off the bat even if they know their own names. How're you doing over there, C'mryn?" How easily that honorific slides off her tongue.

C'mryn grins, and says simply, "They certainly do," in responce to something unsaid. "But.. it's not really a rule that's like.. the other rules. It's not like no drinking, or no sex. This is different. This one is *important*." More is offered, but Cam's starting to notice the blood and goo on his hands, and it's making him look green. "What?" and he jerks his head back up, once more noticing people. "Oh, we're fine. Yes!"

Noting the greenish tint about Cam's gills, Tenli makes good use of the cavern's towel supply, tossing a damp one over. "Better get used to that too, and all the other rules that bind you to 'im now."

Tausreth cocks his head to one side as he studies C'mryn, listening to what his riders have to say. His wings rustle and he rolls his shoulders slightly, apparently a draconic shrug. He keeps chewing.

The towel lands.. on his head. C'mryn reaches up to pull it off, wiping his hands with the motion. Rules are ignored - at least the mention of them is ignored. "For now, yes. The chewing rule is important. Until you're full. Are you full yet?" He, at least, is anxious to move away from the blood and goo of the bucket.

Aleith noses at Olwyn's hand again, and this time lets out a little croon of hunger. Wings flare, flutter delicately, then she waits patiently, adoring gaze on her lifemate.

Ronari finally gets Sura to hold still long enough to finish the oiling, but no sooner than she is done, the green loses interest in the one-ended conversation she was having and turns to her beloved. <sleep?> She asks plaintively. "Yes, love. Sleep." Ronari croons. With a tired smile to her friends, she guides her beloved to the couch that they'll share. "Sorry guys. I'm beat. Tell me tomorrow how the rest turns out." She yawns, almost in unison with Sura and the two climb into bed and are soon fast asleep.

Tausreth gives C'mryn a Look. Amazing how a just-hatched dragon can be so good at that. He chews again, though, and then eyes the towel, and C'mryn's motion to wipe himself off. The bronze, then, reaches forward to do the same, scraping his muzzle across the towel--and part of C'mryn, too. Then, expectantly, he opens his mouth in a dragony grin and begs more food.

Olwyn nods absently, but apparently the words do sink in. "Remember to chew," she instructs the young dragon, holding the bloody slab of meat out with a bit more confidence so that Alieth can actually reach it. Once the gold begins to eat, the newly minted rider will be sure to provide a new piece each time one is swallowed.

Aleith snaps--gently--at the offered piece of meat, but she's not quite sure about how that chew thing works. She kind of mashes it with her teeth a time or two, then starts to swallow, her mouth already open in expectation of the next offering.

Tenli's chirrupy greeting gets stuck in her throat, and so Therese smoothly intervenes when the latest hatchling and rider arrive. The dragon's name is so handily passed onto her by her own blue, leaving the other assistant studying the new weyrling with an uptilt of her brow: and your name might be? Solemnly, with a kinder smile to her mouth, Therese holds out a bucket and paddle, "You'll want to soothe his itches and make sure he gets fed." Food is pointed out near Olwyn, C'mryn, and a now slumbering Ronari.

C'mryn offers Tausreth a rueful look, and an arched eyebrow at the muzzle rub. Doubtfully, he plucks another few chunks from the bucket, and tosses one into that open muzzle. "Ok, then..." he's *acting* hungry.

Olwyn beams at Aleith as she begins to figure out the mechanics of her body. "That's it, that's how you chew," she encourages the hatchling as she drops another piece into the gaping maw. "Chew it, then swallow carefully, and then I'll give you more."

Cyrra nods at Therese and smiles at Tenli when she enters, hand never straying from her lifemate. "I'm Cyrra, ma'am. Cyrra and Emisath," she offers. Then, she follows the pointing over to Olwyn and eyes the bowl of food. "This will be just what you need," the shy girl comments to the blue.

Tausreth preens as C'mryn obliges--look how well-trained he has his human already! He chews it furiously and then opens his mouth again, reaching to take the next piece from the bucket himself.

Aleith seems to consider this, and chews a bit more carefully this time. She's not quick enough on the swallow, though, for a few bits of masticated meat fall from her mouth. Given the whirling of her eyes, it's *almost* as if she did that on purpose.

Emisath gambols on in, a step ahead of Cyrra in his eagerness, though he's quick to double back and nudge at her again if she gets too slow. Up to Tenli to sniff, then Therese, he bounces between the two and his own Cyrra like a rather overgrown and blue puppy, eagerness embodied.

Aleith Oh, this is just perfect, my love! It was very small in there, and I was very hungry!

"Hey - hey now!" is Cam's immediate responce. He reaches for the bucket, to claim it for himself. "I don't think you're supposed to do that. I'm supposed to feed you, remember?" Or something. A quick look around, and he shrugs. "Well, might as well," and the bucket is lowered for Tausreth. "Have at it."

Olwyn smiles fondly at her dragon. "I'm sure you were. You were in there a long time! You're doing very well, just keep doing what you're doing. It might be better if you close your mouth while you chew, though, so you don't lose your food on the floor," she adds after a moment,. This instruction conveyed, she gives the gold another chunk.

Gr'din comes in with Sareith, taking small steps to accomidate the shorter legs of his 'mate. There's a trickle or two of a tear down his cheek, but a wide, indulgent smile on his face as he beams down, one hand protetively on the bronze's hide.

Sareith follows after Gr'din slowly, having learned his lesson from out on that sands. If it stops him from falling, perfect.

Breena follows Gr'din and Sareith into the barracks, looking as if she's been run ragged--though she probably doesn't look all that much better than the rest of her staff. She sags against the wall for a moment, then she's off and running again. "Who needs oil? I'm sure there are at least a few of you..."

Cyrra laughs warmly, seeming overjoyed by the playful antics of her new lifemate. "I can tell we're going to run the weyr out of meat if you use so much energy, I'll have to feed you twice as much," she tells him. She hurries over to the bowl, gathering up a piece of meat. "Here, Emisath, try this," she offers it out.

Tausreth's pleased rumble amounts to something like: well, don't mind if I do. He sticks his head in the bucket to rummage around and pull out a piece of his own, chewing briefly and then going back for me. Unfortunately, this time he manages to get one of those big headknobs of his hooked under the handle, and a good bit of flailing around and squealing ensues as he tries to wiggle free.

C'mryn is all set to sit back and let his dragon feed himself - yes, relaxing! - when Tausreth goes and does what he does. Cam's eyes go wide, and he squeaks, leaping towards his lifemate. "Calm down, calm down!" he offers, though his own words are hardly calm.

Gr'din leads Sareith over to the meat and appropriates a bucket, sitting down on the floor. Sareith all but crawls into his lap, wolfing down the food. "Yes, yes, I can see you're chewing. Don't forget to - right. There you go." His tone is tender as he brushes sand and egg goo off Sar's hide.

Emisath, still with far more energy than any one dragon should need, scurries over to Cyrra when called, reaching out to accept the meat. He even manages to chew it on his own, and open his mouth for a second until something shiny attracts his attention: Sareith's tail. He studies it and creeps a step closer toward the bronze, his own meal half-forgotten.

"I'm /trying/," says an exasperated C'mryn. It's Therese who comes to his rescue, and with her help, Cam unhooks the bucket from Tausreth's headknob, and pulls it free. He sits back, panting and wild-eyed.

Aleith manages to close her mouth this time, and she fares quite a bit better. She pauses every now and again to look around, mainly toward the other dragons, as if taking notes on their progress for herself.

Cyrra sighs and moves to run a hand over the blue hide, wiping away a smudge of goo. "Come now, your belly is rumbling and it feels like your insides will gnaw out!" she chides him lovingly. "Please, have another piece," the shy girl urges, holding out strip of meat.

Sareith is completely oblivious to any designs on his tail on Emisath's part. Instead he's concentrating on MEAT, as Grae keeps up the monologue common to most weyrlings. "Right, well, yes, I'll get a bath, but we'll get this egg goo off you first. Or maybe a bath together, do you think?"

Tausreth, when freed of his confines, gives the bucket a wide berth, trying to look unafraid while he rubs his released headknob against C'mryn idly. But finally, he steels himself--no mere bucket is going to defeat /him/--and he charges back into the battle, knocking the bucket over and spilling the meat out so he can eat it without having to stick his head in the hateful contraption again.

Olwyn beams as if Aleith has managed to solve the problem of Thread forever as the dragon manages to eat and keep her food in her mouth at the same times. As the hatchling gets the hang of eating, she continues to give the delicate gold more and more chunks of the dripping meat until the reddish tinge of hunger begins to leave the dragon's eyes.

Therese takes over the oil handling duties, and brings buckets out to the first ones to Impress--those with droopy-eyed dragons. Noting that, Breena calls out, "Be sure to pick out a couch before your lifemate falls asleep! Please save the largest ones for the larger dragons, but otherwise, pick out the one you like the best." And, as if it hasn't been repeated enough, she chimes out a happy, "And the rest of you, make sure they chew!"

If C'mryn has any resignation about his dragon eating off the floor (Undignified!) he doesn't show it. He just grabs the bucket quickly, and sets it upright where he found it. "Erm... is there more? He's still so hungry..." Or, he appears that way. Cam frowns towards Tausreth, and asks again, "Are you *sure* you're hungry? Everyone else is done..." or nearly.

Gr'din blinks at Breena over Sar's head. "Couches... oh, yeah right. Shells, Sar, you're thirsty." A pause and then he says in consternation, "Wait, /I'm/ thirsty! Is there anything to drink?"

Emisath blinks. Oh, right! Food. Forgetting about his clutchmate's twitching tail, the flighty blue turns back to Cyrra to gobble up the meat she offers and croon expectantly as he peeks up at her adoringly for more.

Tausreth, though, by the time he finishes picking up what's been spilled, is looking gorged, his stomach rounded out into a potbelly. With a stuffed gurgle, he looks back at C'mryn and goes to flop down at the boy's feet, apparently done after all.

Breena brings a pitcher full of water to Gr'din, careful not to step on any of the new tails that are moving about. "Just water for now, but I can get some juice later. No drinking, though," she adds, voice raising again. "Not til you're graduated."

Cyrra pauses to rub the flat part between Emisath's eyes, then gathers up another piece of meat for her his hungry maw. "You'll need lots of this and then...I'm sure we'll need to get you oiled. Mother had to do that," Cyrra speaks to him conversationally.

C'mryn looks relieved. He gets a reproachful look from Therese, but doesn't seem to notice. "Finally," he says, a hand rubbing at his own stomach. "I feel fit to brust!" He reaches down to scratch idly at Tausreth's shoulder, avoiding the icky meaty-bits spread all around.

Gr'din grins at Breena, accepting the pitcher and then as she continues, he ducks his head. "Yes ma'am. It was just that once, really. And I couldn't refuse the weyrleader, right?" Before he can say anything further incriminating, he downs the water, much as Sareith's downing his meat. And then, for good measure, he pours the remaining water over his dragon's hide. This causes only a roll of the bronze's shoulders in protest, as he makes short work of his bucket, catching up to Tausreth in the extended belly department.

Breena grins at Gr'din. "I said nothing." But, water delivered, she moves on, this time to Cyrra and Emisath. "How are you both doing? Settling in well enough? He looks like he's eating well--let us know when you need oil, okay?"

Emisath emits a low croon as Cyrra rubs his forehead, and in delight he pushes his muzzle up against her more, apparently switching into loving mode just like that. He's willing to take a little more meat from her, chewing easily and staying close this time.

Cyrra lavishes attention on Emisath, rubbing gently, just enough to sooth itches but not labor skin that might be starting to dry. She works soft hands over the eye-ridges of her lifemate, taking up meat whenever he has swallowed another piece. "How is your belly feeling now, hmm?" she croons right back to him.

Olwyn continues to feed the gold until the young dragon's belly is bulging and the bucket is empty. As the hatchling's eyes begin to droop a bit, she rallies her lifemate to stand. "Here, let's find you a couch, and then I'll oil you." She scans the empty couches for a moment and finally leads her dragon to one of the larger ones. "Up you go," she encourages Aleith and then begins glancing at the floor around her as if a bucket of oil is going to spring out of nowhere to her hand.

C'mryn's shoulders are moving, and as he scratches with one hand, another rises to scratch at his own shoulders. Eventually, the moving turns into wiggling, and an aggitatted look crosses Cam's face. "Ma'am," he calls, to whomever is closer. "I think I'm allergic to this fabric.. I itch all over!"

"Strip it off," Tenli is quick to shoot back at C'mryn, obvious tease in her eyes. "Walk into yer celebration naked, and I'm /sure/ you'll start off this new life as a rider on the right foot, indeed."

Sareith's skin twitches. Automatically, Gr'din reaches for the oil. He pushes a bucket towards Olwyn before grabbing his own, still sitting on the floor. "Here," he offers. This is his first moment to look 'round at his peers, and a shadow crosses his face for a moment. It's enough to make Sareith croon and shove his head under Gr'din's chin. A slight smile and he hugs the bronze roughly. "Right. Let's get you slathered."

C'mryn blinks wide-eyed at Tenli.

Coughing at Tenli's response to the young bronzerider, Breena spares a moment to calm herself down before she replies. Calm, quiet, she suggests, "Er, perhaps...he's the one itching? That's what the oil's for," she adds, but the bucket she brings is to Olwyn, to whom she's closest.

"Surely you aren't serious," Cam asks, shaking his head. Tausreth lifts his own, and nudges C'mryn insistantly. "Ah..." he says, understanding dawning as both Tausreth and Breena make it clear. He moves off the floor, taking care to not step in the gooey blood, and snatches the first bucket of oil he sees - thankfully it wasn't already claimed.

Emisath is plainly adoring for the attention he receives, bouncing a little and whisking his tail side-to-side. He continues eating a little longer and then slows again while his shoulder twitches with the beginnings of itchiness.

After the famine, a flood. Olwyn's seemingly ineffectual glancing about produces her not one, but two buckets of oil, and she sends Gr'din a smile of gratitude and bobs her head at the Weyrlingmaster. "Thank you, ma'am," she says, finally having become grounded enough in her new reality to return to politeness. The buckets have arrived just in time, as Aleith raises one delicate claw to scratch at a patchy dry spot on her belly. "Oooh, we better fix that, darling," Olwyn notes and dumps a dollop of oil on the dry spot.

Tenli has only the brightest grin for C'mryn and his wide-eyed blinks. But she does oblige by bringing over another bucket of oil. "When all y'all's dragons have had their fill of food, are cared for, and have fallen asleep, you can head on over to get some food and mingle with our visitors. Best behavior now." Warning, a la Mary Poppins, she holds her straight frame straighter and puffs her chest out slightly.

"And don't fall asleep in the living cavern," Breena warns on the heels of Tenli's comment. "If you start feeling sleepy--or if your lifemate starts to wake up, head on back here right away."

C'mryn finally has Tausreth all slathered in oil - a difficult task when one's dragon is laying on their side, unwilling to help. Cam sets the bucket down, and yawns hugely. "Up you," he says, prodding at Tausreth. It takes a little more encouragement, but finally the bronze is up, and tottering along besides C'mryn as he sets about to find a wallow.

And just like that, Sareith is asleep. Mid oiling even. Leaving Grae to lug his heavy butt to a couch and settle him in. From the big man's expression, it's not much of a chore. He tenderly tucks a wing down, and soon a deep, mellow snore issues from Sareith's muzzle. That pole-axed expression from his impression centers itself on Gr'din's face again as he takes a few moments to stare down at Rei.

Cyrra smiles and once again takes the dragon's head in her arms. "I'll never be too far from you, Emisath," she reassures him. Then, she moves over and snags the oil that Ronari had been using before falling asleep. "Here, this will stop the itching. I used to help mother do this sometimes," the young woman assures the blue that he is in good hands.

Tausreth is quickly following Sareith's example. As soon as he's in the wallow he flops down, asleep. He doesn't bother to curl, he just lays, all floppy tail and extended belly, while C'mryn looks on, aghast.

Emisath delightedly stretches, leaning into the oil he's slathered with happily. He's starting to look a little sleepy himself, that earlier energy flagging quickly as he gets more still.

Gr'din notes to Cam, "Least he didn't make you carry him there." He whips his robe over his head. "Come on, I'm starved. Missed dinner." A change is quickly procured and he asks Breena tentatively, "We can go get something to eat, you said?"

C'mryn rubs at his stomach. "You might be, but I feel fit to burst! I think it's his fault," and he points at the bronze. There is nothing but love in his eyes, however, and he turns a wide grin on Gr'din.

Breena, who's been quiet as she watches both Gr'din and C'mryn, shakes herself back to awareness at the question and smiles. "Tenli said it, but yes, you can. If you want to change into something other than your robes, though--uniforms are over in that bin there," she says, motioning toward the wall outside the office. "There's enough there that you should be able to find something to fit."

Olwyn gets Aleith's itchy spot and moves on to other parts of the golden hide, carefully slathering the oil into the soft skin. Fortunately the dragon is small for her color and the task doesn't take as long as it could have. She finishes just as Aleith's second set of eyelids are drooping closed. "There you are, dearheart. Did I miss any spots?" the weyrling asks, cocking her head to listen for the answer. She smiles at it and leans forward to kiss a headknob, never minding the oil caked there. "Good, then you rest while I go fill my belly. It feels as hollow as yours did earlier!"

Cyrra looks serene now, the color that had drained out on the sands having returned. She continues to work oil into the hide of the blue, smiling fondly as he starts to look sleepy. "You can rest, tomorrow...I'll tell you all about things," she informs him, planting a kiss on the flat of his forehead.
Tausreth has arrived.

Gr'din nods to Breena, and manages to find the right cord to braid into his knot. Fingers that so deftly soothed Rei are now fumbling with the cords as he tries to do that and walk at the same time. "See you guys in the caverns." Sareith, for his part, lets out another one of those mellow snores. It's not every breath, and just when you think it's safe, another one sneaks up.

Tausreth snores, audibly.

Once Olwyn is sure that the gold dragonet is settled into sleep on her couch, she heads over to the bin of clothing and fumbles around in it for a few minutes. Once she finds clothing of her approximate size, she heads back over to her dragon's couch, sheds the candidate robe, and dons her "new" wardrobe. She checks on Aleith once more, then after giving her lifemate a fond pat, she heads out of the barracks in the direction of the party.

Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern(#750RDJM$)
This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in prepartion for mealtimes: currently for the late meal. Drudges are always present, either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to relax nearly always find their way here to do it. The tables are decorated with a multitude of bright spring flowers.
A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr to care for injured dragons and riders.

Contents:
PLAYERS: E'tyn C'len Gr'din Pierron Nolee Mahew Giremi Olwyn Gay Niklo
OTHER: Telgar Serving Tables

Obvious Exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl

Gr'din comes in on the heels of the little group of visitors just entering. His attention is on the cords in his hand and he finally just gives up in disgust, shoving them in the pocket of his tunic. Instead he heads towards the serving tables and the all important food and drink. The big man doesn't so much weave through the crowd as part it, leaving a bit of a wake behind him for others to follow in.

C'len comes in from the bowl, stopping just inside the door to take in the scent of the tasty meal that's available. He needs no further guidance, making his way over to the serving table, though he is at least somewhat restrained as he fills his plate. While he's choosing, his foot idly taps along with the tune coming from the harpers, though not particularly with the beat itself.

E'tyn near sputters his drink into his cup, the one he *was* just drinking at least, when Gay draws attention to her dress. Such dignity displayed for a Weyrleader. It's also incredibly dignified for the blush that infuses the tips of his ears as he takes in the persimmon gown from the torque about the goldrider's neck to the ribbons that trim the dress. "I am. Happy, that is. With the hatching. The results. I..." Just stop now and in refuge, wide eyes cast about to Giremi.

The gitar lines wind around each other, melody and harmony, creating that merry atmosphere Gay asked for. "A good spread of colors," Giremi fills in. "And very fortunate to have a gold in the clutch. I'm sure you must be very proud, sir." He flashes the Weyrleader a bright smile. "That's a lovely shade for a celebration, by the way weyrwoman," he notes for the dress and widens his eyes a little at E'tyn. Hint. Hint.

Nolee arrives just in time to see the Telgar Weyrleader turn scarlet. She blinks owlishly, then shrugs and smiles, then follows C'len--doubtless, he's finding food. She veers off toward the beverages, though, seeking juice, and snapping her fingers in an absence of rhythmic ability that matches C'len's own.

Gay blinks at E'tyn's reaction, light brows furrowing - as if someone had given her a really difficult math problem, or similar. Eyeing the Weyrleader's flush, she just nods once, turning away to give him a moment to pull it together. On the plus side, there's a distracting Harper. "Oh - thanks, Giremi." She offers a bit of a smile. "I like orange." Her gaze flicks up in time to track the Istan weyrwoman entering.

Olwyn slowly enters the cavern, looking a bit less flummoxed than she had when last seen on the sands. She pauses at the entrance, gathering her bearings as she looks at the crowd, then slips inside and begins to work her way through the people to the serving table, inadvertently trailing in Gr'din's footsteps.

Once inside the Telgar living cavern, Niklo stops in her tracks and looks around. Uh, why'd she stick around again? Good question. Very good question. Moving off to the side where she hopefully won't be noticed, the girl starts to chew her lip in thought. That is, until she spots Olwyn enter. Ducking past a person or two, the young Istan heads after the new goldrider.

Gr'din turns around almost automatically when he gets to the serving table, and offers Olwyn a plate. And Niklo behind her as she brings up the rear. A wry grin and he says, "You know Olwyn, they didn't say we couldn't dance. So if you're not too full later - I think everyone else fell asleep." He proceeds to load up his plate, with only a single mournful look in the direction of the wine.

"It's very festive, orange," says Giremi diplomatically and nods at Mahew as he starts another round of the same tune. "From the top," he mouths to the other harper.

Luckily, the visiting High Reaches rider isn't humming along with the music, as well. After he's filled his plate, he makes his way to a table, almost stopping at one near the clearing--before realizing that might result in dancing, and detouring to something a little further away. Once he's seated, C'len unwraps the orange (is that suddenly in?) scarf from his neck, tucking it into the pocket of his jcket.

Mahew laughs quietly to himself, noticing how easily Giremi handles the intricate melodies compared to his struggling. For a Harper, Mahew does not appear a musical genius.

E'tyn misses Gay's bafflement, his own rising to mirror the Telgarian goldrider's at Giremi's intervention. Ah yes. Cough. "It's a lovely dress, Gay." He even smiles, fleeting and hesitant as he shies a look back at Gay and the tangerine dress. The sight of new arrivals, however, is more distracting and brings much needed relief to the scarlet of the Weyrleader's face as he tracks the weyrlings' arrivals with Niklo, Nolee, and C'len preceding them.
A few early comers who've already eaten drift out into the dance 'square' and start moving through the figures of a traditional spring gather dance that suits the rhythm of the music and the time of turn.

Olwyn blinks as Gr'din turns, then accepts the plate with a nod and a smile. "Thanks, Graedin. Er, wait, it's Gr'din now, right?" she asks, furrowing her brow a bit as she ponders the change. "And sure, a turn around the floor sounds nice if we're both still up to it. It's been a strangely enervating evening, even though I guess it hasn't been that long, really," she babbles, turning a bit to glance at the other person being offered a plate. She gives Niklo a hesitant smile which strengthens as she recalls the other. "Oh, you're that goldrider from Ista, aren't you? Telgar's duties."

Nolee manages to secure a beverage at last, and the thirsty girl downs most of the cup and requests a refill of the juice before she's as much as greeted anyone. Then it's time to look around and blink wide-eyed at whatever she can see, the weyrwoman and Weyrleader, the other of Ista's juniors and the newest riders of Telgar, the harpers, and that familiar bronzerider of Reaches. She skips the food and heads for a table near the fire, aiming to stay warm, then redirects toward the Reachian.

Giremi nods a few times, encouragingly at E'tyn, a slow grin cracking his face from ear to ear as he continues to play, a lock of hair falling across his eyes when he leans back into the instrument a little to add a flourish in his playing.

"Thanks, E'tyn," Gay says, though with a little less enthusiasm for the prompting required. Boys. Geez. Following the Weyrleaders gaze over the arrivals - Nolee and Niklo of particular interest to the Telgari weyrwoman. Giving Giremi a last, somewhat amused smile, she asks E'tyn, "You wanna make the rounds, say thanks for coming and all that?"

Niklo hangs back, though she's not trying to go unnoticed or anything and grins when she's recognized. "Hi," the girl greets Olwyn, giving a small nod in confirmation. Then she tips her head slightly, "Were... were y'th'one who Impressed th'gold? I mean, I thought I saw... but I figgered I'd ask..." A shrug, and her grin goes sheepish. "Oh, ah, Ista's duties," is added as an afterthought. Polite one, here.

"I already did, but..." Here, E'tyn needs no prompting, his non-goblet holding hand lifted to Gay gallantly. The bashful smile of prior resurfaces with more strength, "Perhaps go congratulate the weyrlings as well. I believe in my own nervousness I didn't properly clap at the hatching." Better late than never.

Mahew :, at the end of the measure, enquires of Giremi, "Perhaps something upbeat? Surely these people want to dance."

Gr'din's lips twist wryly at Olwyn, "I dunno. I never expected to impress. And Rei's so perfect." He quite visably checks himself from running on at the mouth about his 'mate. "Gave me a shot of energy." He nods politely at Niklo, "Telgar's duties, miss," and then turns to grab the nearest available seat, and when two others free up around, he sticks a booted foot in each one to save them for Olwyn and Niklo. That done, he wades right in on the food.

Giremi nods. "More spirited anyway, the Circle Dance maybe?" The Talgar-posted harper looks over at the one from the Reaches. "End of the next phrase, switch."
"Oh, well - I didn't. Sorta ran over here to makes sure it was all sorted, yeah?" Gay has the grace to look a little embarrassed to be, like /telling E'tyn what his job is/. And then, things are going better - less awkward - so there's that. With a slight smile, she takes the Weyrleader's arm, peering into her glass. "I need a refill too somewhere in all that."

D'rin enters the room, rather more well dressed than he usually is, though his hair, as always, is immaculate. The longs silver mane of hair, deftly tied back by a thin thong of dark green. The young man looks about, as if to see where everyone is before he heads towards the food table, smiling, though he looks a bit tired.

The two Harpers strike up a vibrant tune, inviting those gathered to participate in the Circle Dance. The rhythm is lively and rousing, with a strong beat and festive feel.

C'len probably shouldn't be seen to dance. Much better at eating, as he digs into the food on his plate, pausing long enough to greet Nolee as she veers in his direction. He's seated further down along the table where Gr'din seems to've shown up, and calls over a congratulations to the new rider, lifting his cup to toast the man.

Nolee and her juice join C'len and his meal, the goldrider taking an empty seat a few down from his yet clear of the weyrling and his boot-saved chairs. She settles in, rests one elbow unceremoniously on the table, and blinks all around, taking in the decor, the style, the setting, even as her feet start a-tappin. "Evening," she hails them both.

"Yeah." He understands. E'tyn's strengthened smile seems to work itself wider for Gay's embarrassment, taking heart at the rambling start the goldrider goes of on. The goblet is set down on a nearby convenient table, and his hand tucks the Telgarian weyrwoman's more securely about his elbow after which he leads her towards the first of many greetings: the weyrlings with the Istan junior. "Think they're by the serving tables. Y'could refill there before we greet them."

Olwyn grins. "I didn't expect it either, but then, I don't contract my name, so no confusion there," she tells the bronze weyrling before turning her attention back to Niklo. At the Istan's question, she gets a dreamy look on her faith. "Yes, I'm Aleith's," she says, her tone matching her expression before she brings herself back to Pern. "Here, come sit," she invites, following Gr'din and taking one of the seats he saved.

Gr'din pulls his boots out of the chairs, not looking a bit abashed at his behavior. At C'len's toast he grins, holding up his own... juice. A bit of a wry cock of his head towards the cup before he takes a sip. Then he's nodding to Nolee as well and offering down the table, leaning in to be heard, "Telgar's duties. Find something to eat and drink all right?"

Gay returns E'tyn's smile for a moment, nodding. Watching as he wraps her hand at the crook of his elbow, "Sounds like a plan. Though I got half a glass anyway." Starting toward the table with the two weyrlings and Niklo - more leading the Weyrleader than the other way around - she says, all put-upon, "I -suppose- I can survive with that when we talk to 'em. People before booze - right now, anyway."

A thoughtful look crosses Niklo's face as the new goldrider says her lifemate's name. "Aleith," she repeats it herself, then grins. "Pretty name. An' from what I could see in th'stands--" she refrains from mentioning that it wasn't a whole lot, "she're real pretty t'match. Congratulations." A slight pause, and her grin broadens, "Eviath says t'tell y'she says th'same." The offer to sit gets a quick headshake. "Ah, naw, I'm alright. Ain't gonna stick 'round real long. Been a busy day." Shrug.

"It's gr--" C'len starts off around a mouthful of food, then breaks off, chewing and swallowing the rest before he says, "It's great. Been a while since I've visited Telgar, but a hatching's a great time to come, huh?" He grins then and seeing Nolee lacks a plate, pushes his slightly toward her questioningly as if she might be interested in sharing. There's a meatroll, at least, that could be easily taken. "I barely had the energy to do more than fall into my cot and sleep, after I impressed," he remarks.

"Yes, thank you," Nolee replies to the weyrling's query, tilting her head in fascination at either his energy or his manners, or both. A grin steals across her blithe face, and a slow nod. "Me either," agrees with C'len's assessment. "And Ista's duties all around. How'd the new lifemate take to his first meal?" She considers C'len's plate, tears off half the meatroll and munches absently on it with a nod of appreciation more for the offer than for the meal.

The Weyrleader only holds that smile with Gay's for a moment before bashfulness causes him to duck his head again. He still leads, however, drawing the pair of them towards Olwyn, Niklo, and Gr'din. Low, before they reach the trio, E'tyn remarks to the weyrwoman, "Graedin might not agree with you there." Then, a louder, "Good evening and congratulations. They're sleeping now?"

Giremi nods at Mahew, grinning as the dance tune takes shape and a few more people join in the dance. It's not a couple-type dance so some of the weyr's children join in, hop-skipping in the circle. The harper peers down the table at C'len and Nolee. "Harper's duties to Ista," he lifts his voice enough so that the Istan weyrwoman can hear him above the music.

Gr'din clears his mouth before answering the Reaches and Istan riders, "Ah, well, I never expected to impress, so I think I'm just walkin' on air right now. I really, really didn't." He beams, an echo of that same pole-axed expression that grabbed him on the sands. "Rei did just great. Fell asleep on me before I could get him into his couch," he shifts to include Gay and E'tyn in the recitation, "So I had to heft him up there. But otherwise, he's /perfect/." He mops the last of the juices on his plate up and pops the bread into his mouth, chewing quickly.

Olwyn beams at the young weyrwoman's praise of her dragon. "It is and she is. Just beautiful. Thank you, and thank Eviath as well," she tells Niklo, then begins to dig into her food. She pauses as the Weyrleader approaches, swallowing hugely, then nods to the bronzerider. "Thank you, sir. Aleith is out right now, yes."

Gay smirks a bit at E'tyn, though she follows along when he starts to take the lead, grinning widely and brightly at the table. "Congratulations," she offers warmly to Olwyn and Gr'din. A bit amused - and reminicent - at the expression on the new bronzerider's face, she turns to nod Niklo's way - then waves down the table at Nolee and C'len. "Telgar's duties! Glad you guys stayed." In an aside to Niklo - given she's the closest islander, "It ain't a party with Ista, you know."

The size of the young man certainly suggests he'd have no trouble lifting his lifemate--though C'len's scrawny arms, filled out since impression, would likely have not been able to accomplish any such thing. The bronzerider does grin, though, for the man's effusiveness when discussing his dragon. He's working on another bite when the Telgari weyrwoman waves, so merely waves his fork in response, luckily not sending any food bits flying.

As their song comes to a close, the two Harpers clap both the dancers and each other. Mahew takes a bow and replaces his gitar in its case, bowing and saying something to Giremi, slinging the case on his back and wandering out of the caverns into the night, giving his duties to both new riders and old on the way.

Niklo grins at Olwyn, bobbing her head again. "Will do," she replies, dropping back to let everyone else have a chance at the new goldrider now that she's said her peace. When Gay speaks -- mostly to her? -- the girl smiles, part pleased and part embarrassed. "Bet it'd be a real good party anyway," is said to the weyrwoman, a vague gesture around at the cavern, "Th'music, an' everythin'. Glad I didn't miss it!"

Nolee is distracted by the dancing for a time, watching as people join and circle, and tilting her head back and forth in almost-time. At first, she misses the greeting, then blinks, and returns, "Duties to Harper. Jays, I thought you meant to th' other one. Over there." A cheerful nod to the Telgar weyrwoman's wave, then a wave back. "Thanks for your hosepitalty," she mispronounces. It's the thought that counts.

"Aleith," E'tyn tests the name out and then follows it with, "Rei? Ah, Sareith." The hand about Gay's relaxes, dropping the arm to his side as the weyrwoman seems secure about his elbow. "Telgar's duties," he imparts again to the visitors. "I think I about fell asleep when Niereth did when we Impressed. The promise of food couldn't keep me awake unfortunately. Are your parents here?" This, in particular, is said to Gr'din.

Zihsa ambles in a face paces behind a small group of merrily chattering youths, and though she seems disinclined to join in their conversation, she does a respectable job of appearing as though she really is a part of the group. That is, until they approach the dance floor, whereupon she skirts 'round toward one of the serving tables, her expression suggesting dire things for the poor, unfortunate food heaped on it. She makes few greetings as she moves amidst the crowd, but those she does are made warmly.

Gr'din shakes his head to E'tyn. "Got word in this morning with the sweepriders. Da' couldn't be away from the mine that long. And my mother'd not come without him. He said he's working up that load for you, sir. Should be ready in another two sevendays." He pushes his plate out of the way and grins engagingly at Olwyn, Gay and Nolee. "Now, which've you ladies wants to honor a poor weyrling with his first dance?" He gives a grin to Niklo as well, though he left her name off the list. Apparently she's a bit young for him.

Giremi gives the gitar a break, resting it against the bench he's sitting on and takes a long drink from his glass of water. He grins down at Nolee. "Got any preferences for the next tune? I asked our fair hostess first," he nods Gay's way.

Olwyn started out eating as quickly as her newly-hatched dragon, but is slowing down now. She eyes her nearly empty plate, then Gr'din, then the floor. "It'll have to be quick, Gr'din," she decides out loud. "I feel about like a hatchling right now. If someone were to oil me up, I'd probably fall asleep on my feet," she finishes with a tired smile.

"I'm glad too. And Liabeth likes visitors." Gay offers Niklo a little eyeroll - like the younger goldrider's likely figured out that already. Nolee gets a grin, the Telgari weyrwoman not seeming too inclined to judge. "Anytime," she calls. And it does seem that she's securely attached to E'tyn for the time being, giving Gr'din a grin. "There's your answer," she says, nodding to Olwyn. "Dance with the girl before she passes out."

Nolee can't help it: the subject of sleep brings yawns. Covering hers with her hand, she still turns a little pink when she notices one of the littles pointing. "Jays. Best be off for some rest myself. Evening, Weyrleader, weyrwoman, C'len." She lingers on that name a moment, demures from Gr'din's offer, and cheerily suggests to Giremi as she heads for the bowl, "A partner dance, perhaps? The weyrlings here will lead the way."

Gr'din blinks at Olwyn, and says, with a completely straight face, "Breena'd shoot me if I was t'oil you up." A sly smile, "So a dance it'll have to be." To Gay he announces, "If E'tyn'll part from you after, you're next." And to Nolee he nods politely, "Clear skies, and Telgar's duties, ma'am." As Nolee points the way to Giremi, he asks down the table, "Something nice and slow, harper? So Olwyn doesn't have to work so hard?" Back to the newest goldrider, his enthusiam infectious, "I promise, no toss dancing."

C'len finishes off what's on his plate, attention turning to the harpers and dancers--though he doesn't volunteer to join in, himself. He turns back to Nolee as she departs, waving and calling out a goodbye to her before his attention settles back on the dance floor. "Ah, a good way to wear the rest of your energy away before sleeping for a few days? Though, newly hatched dragons don't let you sleep that long, sadly."

E'tyn can't help but look a little envious with the ease with which Gr'din navigates not just one woman, but many, the elbow beneath Gay's arm flexing in response. Nolee's imminent departure rouses him out from just staring oddly at the former miner to smile warmly at the Istan junior, "Clear skies, ma'am." Then back to Gr'din with, "I'd hoped to speak with him personally. Convey my congratulations on your Impression." Bovinish eyes scan the crowd again, making sure the representatives of Telgarian leadership aren't being remiss in their duties, alighting on Zihsa briefly, then returns to the gathering before him.

Olwyn stares at Gr'din for a moment, then turns bright red as she realizes the possible implications of both her statements and his. "Yes, we'd better stick with the dancing," she affirms hastily. At the mention of no toss dancing, she grins. "Good, because it would probably end with us both on the floor tonight." She pushes back from the table, ready to follow her classmate to a clear spot for dancing.

Giremi nods at Nolee's suggestion. "Mm, I think I'll slow the pace down a little though," notes the harper, grinning at C'len and he retunes the gitar, striking up a slower song. This time he sings along in a rather thin, but not unpleasant voice, a sweet ballad that's very much a 'partner dance' type tune with not-quite syrupy lyrics to go along with it.

Niklo just grins at Gay, nodding her head in agreement. She looks as though she's going to say something, changes her mind, and instead half-smirks at Gr'din, but doesn't offer to dance. Hey, she doesn't dance anyway. And in any case, as she said, it's been a long day. With a sigh, the girl announces quietly, "Think I'm gonna be headin' back, now. Clear skies, everyone!" With that she slips off, leaving the rest to their festivities.

Gr'din rises to lead Olwyn on the floor. "I'd bet he'll be up, bringing that load to the weyr himself, sir. And with the whole family in tow, like as not!" A grin and he gives Olwyn a light twirl as he finds an opening in the dancing square, before leading her into the steps with the others.

Skeptically, "So Olwyn doesn't have to work so hard. Sounds like an excuse to me." Gay gives a good-natured sniff in Gr'din's direction - more faux-disapproving as he manages to embarass Olwyn so easily. At the new goldrider's choice of words, she bites her lower lip, dark eyes bright. Waving to Nolee and Niklo, she finishes her glass, telling E'tyn, "I need a refill - be right back."

Zihsa has, in only a matter of seconds, managed to acquire a heaping plateful of food, a bowl of something appropriately sloshy, and a glass of wine, all of which she seems intent on carting to the nearest table in a peculiar sort of juggling act. "'scuse me, pardon me," she offers as she makes her way past people, stopping only once where she looks to be about to say something to the short woman whose hair she just dropped a glop of soft cheese onto -- she doesn't, mind, but she looks as though she might. "Any room here, by chance?" she asks politely upon finally reaching a table, though odds are she hasn't paid much attention to which table she's hitting up.

Some of the dancers and most of the children leave the dance 'floor' coming to roost along the food tables in search of drinks and sweets. More pairs drift out to sway into the slower-paced ballad, joining Olwyn and Gr'din and some of those who remained in the dance area in the first place.

Olwyn, oblivious once again to the possible double entendre of her words, allows herself to be led to the floor and spun around. She follows Gr'din's lead well enough, not the most skilled or graceful of dancers, but not bad either.

Again, E'tyn's arm is left without someone to lead around, and as such, the bronzerider's hands find his pockets again. Wide eyes watch Gr'din and Olwyn take their turn about the dance floor, along with the other couples who join them, and more watchful yet, are the eyes that follow after Gay, failing miserably at being nonchalant. "So, ah, um," hem and haw, he tears his eyes away long enough to find Zihsa standing there. "Sure, you can sit anywhere." He's standing of course, but there's a table with many an empty seat right before him.

The music continues, sweetly soft, Giremi's voice telling the tale of dragons finding their mates on the Sands, fitting for the event that just took place this evening and suitable for the tiredness that new weyrlings must feel.

C'len's attention is kept by the dancers on the floor, their swaying somewhat mesmerizing, though perhaps it's also because he's drifted into some sort of daydreaming as well. Zihsa's question, and E'tyn's following answer, bring him back into the real world, if briefly. He shakes his head, as if that might help to wake him up some. "Should probably get back to 'Reaches," he mutters, but that doesn't mean he can't spare a moment for dessert, one of which he swipes from a tray being passed around: bubblies, cookies, and other tasty items available.

Gr'din is surprisingly agile for such a big man, and despite his teasing, respectful of his fellow weyrling. He guides Olwyn through the dance, confessing under the music, "My mother taught me. Said it'd stand me in good one day, and she was right." The soft cadences of the music seem to finally be wringing out some of the adrenaline he's been running on.

Gay gets waylaid along the way by a group of Benden riders who are doing a round of shots - and it doesn't take much to convince her to join them - oblivious to being watched by the Weyleader. So when she returns eventually, full glass in hand, she's flushed with laughter and drink both. Taking E'tyn's arm again without hesitation, she nods over Zihsa's way, then looking out at the dance floor. "They must be wired," she comments. "I can't imagine how tired they must be, but..."

Slowly the tune winds itself down to a conclusion, leaving at least one pair of weyrlings half-asleep in each other's arms. A tsking assistant weyrlingmaster-type, breaks them up and herds them off to the Barracks. Giremi chuckles softly and sets the gitar down, stretching his fingers out. "I'll take that as a sign to take a break." The harper rises and moves to the food tables, picking through things to find favorites.

E'tyn latches onto the word tired, curving the elbow closer to himself with the hand that's around it. "I would ask you to dance," courage finding a voice, however low and apologetic at Gay, "But I might as well see you home if you don't mind?"

Zihsa flashes E'tyn a grateful smile, "Much obliged, Weyrleader." Setting everything down on the table, she slides onto a bench and rubs her hands together in a gesture of anticipation. "I love hatchings," she notes gleefully. "Can eat for days off this stuff." C'len's mention of High Reaches draws her attention his way, and she asks between mouthfuls, "Are there many from the Reaches here tonight?"

Olwyn nods and smiles at the other weyrling. "I'm sure it's a skill you'll use in the future, so yes, it was good of her to teach you," she babbles sleepily. As the dance comes to a close, she gives the man a weary grin, then tosses her head in the direction of the exit. "Thanks for the dance." Before she can say more, the weyrlingmaster descends upon them, and she allows herself to be herded back to the barracks without protest.

"There were," C'len remarks, after he's had several bites of a particularly large cookie from the dessert tray. "I think most of 'em headed back? R'hin, Shan, Tavrie--" He rattles off a few other names, as if he might say the name of someone the woman knows. "I told them they should've stayed for the food, but no one listened." The plate in front of C'len looks very clean, as if he carefully polished off every last morsel, stopping short of licking the plate itself. "C'len, Vildaeth's rider," he introduces himself, as the music from the harpers winds down.

Gr'din and Olwyn are that pair, yes indeedy. The new bronzerider looks a bit abashed at /already/ getting in trouble, but stifles a yawn and gestures for Olwyn to preceed him out of the caverns. "Welcome. Leet's head home." Hopefully he can make it back before the last of his energy fails.

Gay grins at E'tyn, shaking her head. "I don't mind. I'll just take this with me," she says merrily, raising her glass Giremi's way as he takes a break. "G'night all," she calls out to the crowd at large - and starts

Hatching

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 20:15:05 GMT

Having finished running her last errand of the day, Ronari staggers into the room and collapses on her bunk 'nest'. Pulling out her long braid, she grabs the brush out of her bag and begins to nervously work the frizz and tangle out of her hair. Her pale eyes are unfocused, and she's off in her own world, drifting, thinking, using the calming routine to steady her fraying nerves.

"And then, I told him I'd bet him three marks she had *brown* hair... and he took me up on it!" Camerryn sits with a group of younger candidates, who burst into giggles at his latest comment. Looking rather pleased with himself, he looks ready to start into another story when Ronari walks past. It's helpful to have a cot near the door. "Long day, Ronari?" he asks cheerfully.

Olwyn is on her own cot, propped up against the wall with pillows at her back to cushion her from the stone. In her lap is a pile of clothing, just as old as everything else she owns. Needle and thread are in hand as she carefully attaches a patch to a pair of pants of indeterminate grey.

Seramara shakes out her newly-mended robe, almost smothering little Meliel in the folds. "Better than mine, I hope," she grumbles. "Moro keeps making my robe into a nest. If I hadn't seen it, I might've flashed the Sands come the Hatching." She glances around. "If anyone needs a robe patched, I've got my needle out..."

Cyrra, having finished her chores is sitting on her cot blotting her long hair with a towel. The young woman yawns and glances at the others, half-heartedly listening to them talking. Satisfied that she has much of the water out of her hair, Cyrra begins to comb out any tangles, starting from the bottom.

Cam's question shakes her from her safe place and she nods. Seramara's offer makes her smile, and she shakes her head. "I had so much trouble sewing mine at first, so I just bypassed that step." She holds up her seamless poncho-like robe, and the belt that cinches the ensemble.

Camerryn pages to Cyrra, Haisen, Olwyn, Rilkie, Ronari, and Seramara: It was Ronari.

Camerryn grins. "You know... neither you nor Rilkie ever said a thing about that song - and I know you got it, I made sure." He looks rather boastful then, swinging his legs off of his cot and standing. "Must have been better than I thought!" He waves off Seramara's offer, saying simply, "Finished a few days ago, but thanks!"

Olwyn continues with her mending, shaking her head at Seramera's offer. "Thanks, but no thanks," she says, raising her own needle and grinning. "I actually found a pretty nice one in stores. Much better than having to make a new one that I'll wear for all of half an hour."

The one thing keeping R'dur calm as the dragons' hum begins to build through the Weyr is the fact that he's done this before. Jittery still, he steps inside and pauses at the doorway to look across the barracks and take a deep breath. "Okay. It's--it's time. Get your robes on, please, everyone," he says, in a very tightly controlled voice.

Seramara perks up, peering at Camerryn. "Song? You wrote a song? And I missed it?" Nodding to Olwyn, she tucks her sewing paraphernalia away under her cot, then straightens to see Breena and R'dur coming in. "Did somebody forget to..." Oh. No. Um.

"Yes I did..." Camerryn replies to Seramara. He looks ready to launch into some sort of explanation that's likely to take hours when R'dur enters. "Now? Are you sure?" The normally calm and collected youth is suddenly pale as ash, and deadly serious. As others begin to move, he seems to decide that yes, he was serious. So he hops back over to his cot and searches for his robe.

Graedin has had firestone duty for like the fifth day in a row. As such, this time of night, he's just returning from the bath, a towel wrapped around him and carrying his clothes. The mineholder is popping his ears, rubbing at his jaw. "What's that noise?" Apparently, he missed R'dur's announcement.

Haisen has been, for the most part, on her cot and relatively quiet -- a bit grumbly, sure, but still mostly quiet. At the announcement, however, she looks up and goes utterly silent. Too nervous to speak, she instead goes through the motions of finding her robe and putting it on.

With a smooth motion, Ronari stands up, pulls her tunic off and pulls her robe over her head. She silently cinches the belt with a sturdy knot before pulling off her trous. That done, she sits again and proceeds to quickly braid her hair and curl it up to the nape of her neck to fasten it there out of the way. Finished, she nods to R'dur. "Ready, sir."

Breena trails R'dur by no small measure, herding in a few of the stragglers and pointing them straight to their cots. "Remember, no jewelry. If you've got long hair, pull it back. Quickly now, they won't wait forever."

Camerryn nods absently towards Breena. Having finally found his robe, he quickly pulls off tunic and trousers, and pulls the white sack over his head. "This is it?" he asks, suddenly looking rather uncomfortable. "It barely comes to my knees!"

Olwyn stares briefly at the Weyrsecond, then begins to fold up her clothing and put away needle and thread. Her lack of haste seems to indicate calmness on the surface, but close inspection as she pulls on her robe and braids her hair shows that her hands are shaking. Despite this, she manages to accomplish her task and stands ready for further orders.

R'dur rubs his mouth nervously, shifting from foot to foot like a candidate on the sands himself as he fidgets. Waiting until everyone is ready, he then tells them, "Okay, line up--in pairs if you like--and I'll look you over as you go out. Everyone ready?" For once seeming at least mostly calm, he glances over the candidates and slips through to take a post by the entrance to the sands.

Graedin blinks a bit at the ruckus in the barracks. "Oh." Herded by Breena along with the stragglers, he heads to his cot, dumping dirty clothes carelessly on it. he rummages in his press for his robe, and then yanks it on. For once, the man isn't too concerned with what the ladies might see, as the Full Graedin goes on display for a moment before the robe is over his head. Arms flailing in the hole, he then turns to find some underclothes. "Wait, wait - I'm alost dressed."

Breena, amused in the face of all the fretting going on around her, grins over at Camerryn. "Be careful not to bend over then, I'd say." She pauses to help one of the youngest girls to sort out which limbs belong in which holes, then she stands back and nods to the Weyrsecond. "All set, looks like."

Cyrra, suddenly more awake sits up straighter and begins to hurry through the things she needs to do, dressign quickly and making sure her hair is bound up. Then, she hurries to find her comfort for the day, Ronari.

Seramara at least has her robe right there. Some flailing occurs when her hair gets half-caught in the head-opening, but the thing goes on. No shoes for her, just bare feet and fumbling fingers as she braids her hair tightly. "Oh...oh...okay...partner?" A hand to hold would be good; it lessens the cahnce of fainting.

Haisen dresses quickly and checks her footwear with a slight scowl. But, she's dressed and ready to go, so she slips into line near the back, arms folded loosely across her chest and her expression unreadable. The others are looked at briefly, but her attention is on the coordinators and trying to follow orders without too much distraction.

Camerryn looks mortified at Breena's words. "I should say not!" He feverently begins tugging at the hem of his robe, apparently attempting to lengthen it my sheer will alone. It doesn't work, and in the end, he's forced to line up and look rather antsy. "Now I wish I'd tried it on first," he murmers to Graedin. "And I would have added a length to it."

Rilkie isunusually quiet as she slips into the room. She's secured her robe from somewhere, and creeps over to Camerryn and stops at his side, wordless.
Ronari smiles as Cyrra appears beside her. The tall girl reaches for her friend's hand, her eyes still on the Weyrsecond and the Weyrlingmaster. It kept the nerves down to stare at something.

Graedin appropriated a bedsheet for his robe, from the look of things. he grins at Cam as he slips in line behind him, next to Sera and offers her his hand. It's big, she won't break it by squeezing. "Wasn't one to fit me. And, in case I forget, g'luck! You too 'Ari, Cyrra!"

R'dur waits another moment, while the candidates pair up, and then he looks over the first couple and starts sending them all out onto the sands, murmuring 'good luck' as they pass him. He'll follow at the rear, looking just a little more nervous now.

Cyrra allows Ronari to take her hand, fidgeting and biting her lip with nerous jitters.

Camerryn looks at Graedin's robe with envy, exagerating only a little. As Rilkie appears, he flashes her a reassuring smile, and loops an arm over her shoulders. Much easier to appear confident if someone else is nervouse!
Olwyn walks slowly to the line, trying to look dignified as she manages to get her limbs to move in the direction they need. She steps next to Seramara, giving the other girl a timid smile, then follows R'dur's instructions.
Ronari looks toward the entrance to the sands.

Seramara immediately seizes Graedin's hand. If all else fails, she can hide behind his bedsheet. "Glad to see you took my advice." And heeeeeere we go.

You paged Breena, Camerryn, Cyrra, Graedin, Haisen, R'dur, Rilkie, Ronari, and Seramara with 'Gah, sorry, disregard that I stood next to Sera. I missed Graedin's pose. :)'.

Hatching Sands
This is the immense cavern containing the hatching grounds of Telgar Weyr. It stretches for several hundred feet across, and even farther in length. To the north is the large mound of sands used by the queens for their clutches. Looking up along the high walls of the cavern, the ledges where dragons and their riders observe the hatchings are visible. Much of the eastern wall is dominated by the galleries, where row upon row of tiers are capable of seating hundreds of people.
Contents:
DRAGONS: Daelyth Niereth
PLAYERS: E'tyn Graedin R'dur Olwyn Rilkie Haisen Camerryn Cyrra Seramara Nimiriel
OTHER: Big Pile of Sand, Lumpy patch of sand

The candidates, in uniformed white robes, enter the shimmering Hatching Sands. One by one they bow to the proud parents, and move towards their places around the clutch.

The cerulean shell of the Ring of Ice egg shatters, giving way to a ethereal spring green. Decisive from the start, she trips her way over to a former smith apprentice and makes her claim. B'lor looks astonished and just manages to croak out, "Leyoth is hungry."

Nebulous Clouds Egg has arrived.

Camerryn, his arm looped around Rilkie, winces as he steps onto the Sands. "Ouch! Shards, they weren't kidding!" And then there's Hatching, and Camerryn's eyes go wide.

Rainbow Night Egg has arrived.

Nebulous Clouds Egg wiggles and shimmies in its warm hollow of sand, but the excitement is almost tangible in the way it moves. It's nearly time!
Set.

Ronari squeezes Cyrra's hand as an egg shatters no sooner than they had set foot on the hot Sands. Her sandals aren't thick, and the heat is quickly becoming painful.

Graedin is easily the oldest in the group of white robes. And the most conspicuous, thanks to his very poorly thrown together robe. It's holding together, but by luck rather than design. He moves to join the circle, mincing his way across the hot sands and looking rather comical. He ends up near Ronari and Cyrra in the semicircle about the eggs, dragging Seramara with him. "Good luck," he offers, with a lopsided smile. "Just remember to watch your backs." He stands still for a long moment, watching eggs rock, and then shuffles his feet with a muffled curse. "Hot."

Seramara almost stumbles as she straightens from her bow in time to see B'lor and his green. "She didn't even *stop*, she just--oh, that egg's moving--I hope my parents are here--" When in doubt, babble. She's not even aware of the heat.
E'tyn stands by Nimiriel, the fretful fidget of his hands hidden behind his back. One might imagine he's one of the ones standing rather than vice versa. "Does it ever get less nerve-wracking?" He asks of the Weyrwoman.

Cyrra holds tight to Ronari's hand, looking rather pale. The young woman turns her head and looks at the eggs, then she scans the stands, frowning. "I wonder if Tiri is here...and father," she says softly to Ronari.

Rainbow Night Egg takes its time in coming to life--the slightest vibration visible only due to the sand it dislodges in its movements.

Olwyn trails along with the other candidates, picking her feet off gingerly from the hot sands. She settles into place on Seramara's other side. "Some of them really know what they want," she offers her "expert" advice.

At the back of the candidates is R'dur, jittering as he slips onto the sands and around the edges of the group, skirting the clutch itself. He bites his lower lip as he watches the first eggs start to hatch, and tears his eyes away to step over to join the Weyrleader. "Ma'am. E'tyn. Hi," he offers, before glancing quickly back to the candidates.

Rilkie moves out with Camerryn, eyes wide and scared as they make their way to the appointed place. Duties taken care of, she slips her arm free to claim his hand instead, clutching onto it for dear, wordless life. By her expression, it's clear her fear runs along the lines that if she opens her mouth, she may be sick.

Nimiriel rests a hand on Daelyth's side and grins over at E'tyn. "I suppose. This is the best part, if you ask me. Some of them are so fast, but others'll take their time, and those are the ones to watch. Especially the faces on the candidates they choose. They look like they've been hit in the back of the head with a board," she adds, laughing.

Nebulous Clouds Egg keeps on rocking, as the occupant within begins a fierce attempt at getting itself out of its confinement. Out, out, OUT! It still hasn't managed to make a dent in the thick shell, though it's not for lack of trying!

Camerryn winces as he moves along the sands. "Come on," he urges Rilkie, guiding her towards familiar faces: Graedin and Ronari. Cyrra and Seramara come by default. He gives Rilkie's hand a reassuring squeeze, and sets up a spot near the others. "Good spot, right? Now we can see the whole thing, easily."

Breena steps up quickly to B'lor and Leyoth, shaking her head and mumbling as she goes. "Never can wait til a body gets a good breath..." But the green and his lifemate are pointed toward the barracks, then she's back to wait for the next pair.

Haisen stands slightly apart from the others, watching the eggs and worrying at her lower lip. Shifting her feet with growing discomfort on the sands, she keeps her eyes on the rocking eggs, gaze occasionally flicking to her fellow candidates.

Dubious, E'tyn strives towards the placidity his Weyrwoman manages so well, and turns to skim the circle of candidates. In turn, a few eyes are caught drawing a tiny grin on the young Weyrleader's kind face. "I bet that's what I looked like," he notes, easing into his role a little better after the cursory glance over of candidates. "Hit over the head that is."

Ronari watches as some of the eggs begin to shake. Leaning over to Cyrra, she offers some reassurance. "I'm sure they are. They wouldn't miss this for the world." She smiles to her friend, gaining strength by reassuring someone else. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Rainbow Night Egg is touched by a breeze, a gentle sway bringing the softly hued shell to life. Other than that, there is little else that draws much attention to this placid seeming egg.

At first, it almost seems as if the white speckles on the Nebulous Clouds Egg fall off first, but it's followed shortly thereafter by just about everything else. The egg shatters, leaving the Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling sitting amongst the shards, looking startled but pleased.

Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling

Predatory grace slinks down in ripples along this brown's lethal body, his sleek hide two-toned in a dominant citrine brown offset by widely uneven strokes of dark, rusted copper. Those striations peter out high on his neck until they exist merely as ghosts to shadow his sharply cut face, where thick ridges overshadow the gleam of keen eyes. Wickedly curved neckridges trail down his back to meet the strong juts of his wingspars, the ridges there smoothing out before they resume down the length of his lashing tail. Quite large, he wears his girth and length well, typically holding his massive form close to the ground, nigh on hugging it with his rotund belly and broad, proud chest. There is little dainty about him: even the wings that hang in opaque curtains from his spars are densely built, not lightly reckoned with.

Brilliance in Numbers Egg has arrived.

Cyrra's eyes can't possibly get any bigger. She shifts from foot to foot, looking as if she wants to bolt off the sands. However, she remains rooted in place. Once again, she sweeps the stands with her gaze before focusing back on the eggs and closing them for just a moment to gulp.

Camerryn jumps, the recent Hatching brown having startled him. He gives him a good look, and shivers. "Oo. Watch out for him," he warns collectively, talking to hear himself talk. "He looks sneaky. And sly. And... dangerous."

The Rosetta Evening Egg fractures along those veins of scarlet, and the remaining shell pieces rain down upon the patchwork blue sitting there, looking puzzled. Driven by hunger, he hurries toward the candidates and finds his match in S'rean. "Lianth! He's Lianth!"

Seramara bobs her head in Olwyn's general direction. "Oh, I know, you just never expect such clumsy little things to go so *fast*." She tries a sympathetic smile in Cyrra's direction, but then the sleek little brown hatches, and her attention is totally diverted. "He's going to *pounce* somebody. Oh, well done Serean--S'rean!"

Graedin gawks at the brown. "I didn't know they'd be so /big/ at first." Forgetting to do th Candidate Shuffle for a moment he simply stares - "Lookit him. He's gonna be huge, I'd bet. - Wait, was tht another one? Who was it that got that blue?" He looks around to Cam and Seramara, missing it even the second time. "Who"

Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling spares a smug look backwards at the remnants of his former prison, then slinks forward, wings spread wide to catch the heat of the hatching sands. His body is so low to the ground that said wings are nearly dragging, but he doesn't seem to care about that. His focus is on the semi-circle of Candidates and his quest for the one with whom he'll share his life.

Ronari says "S'rean." Ronari offers to Graedin, her wary eyes on the frightening brown hatchling."

Olwyn shifts back and forth, trying to keep from putting any one part of her feet on the hot sands for too long. She watches the dragons carefully as they hatch, nodding to Seramara. "Yeah, they can. That's why you've got to be careful and stay alert, so you don't accidentally end up between one and the person it wants to Impress. That's when accidents happen."

Breena hustles S'rean's way next, careful to avoid the brown who's searching, and the eggs that are wobbling. "He's lovely--Sonaith'll love that coloring. Come this way, now, I'm sure she's hungry."

Haisen shuffles around a bit more, her too-warm feet bringing her inexplicably closer to the others. Well, somewhere in the vicinity Camerryn to be more precise, although she doesn't do more than stand there and keep a watchful eye on where that predatory brown is headed.

Brilliance in Numbers Egg rocks feebly, just a faint quiver that's hardly noticeable, especially considering the goings-on around it. After that one little motion, its occupant is very still, waiting as though it had never begun to shake.

E'tyn notes in a wry aside for Nimiriel, "Some of them know so quickly. Some of them wander. Choosy." His fretful hands finally shove into the pockets of his trousers to still.

Camerryn is on edge, noticably. When Haisen scoots, he notices. He gives her a flickering glance, and then a smile. "Thought you were a Hatchling," he teases, grinning. "Nervouse?" He gives Rilkie's hand another squeeze, just 'cause.

The luminous softness of the Rainbow Night egg continues to sway dreamily from side to side, picking up speed with time until it's not quite so much dreamy as frenetic. Pieces of indigo and rose shed and a slender midnight talon pokes visibly while lithe shoulders and a persistent head crash through the remnant shell.

Water's Embrace Green Hatchling

Liquidity radiates in every movement, every dreamy turn of this slender green, as a wash of crystalline water cascades over her body in a loving embrace. The veil of ocean's blue provides a sense of sparkling depth to the olivine seaweed that is predominant across her hide, setting off the shadows of her girlish curves clearly from the length of a meandrous tail and rising high up the supple arc of her neck. Foam caps, a pale offset to her dark shading splash in an indecorous fashion over her eyeridges, careless of how it might bely her whimsical nature, and mark a more translucent path down the narrowness of her maw. An air of feminine delicacy flickers in narrow wings and slim limbs while prisms cast in the pensive glow of her eyes speak of a curiosity that lurks beneath her gentle shell.

Ring of Fire Egg has arrived.

Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling's tail lashes back and forth in the hot sands as he moves, leaving a cleared path behind him. No sense looking back, though--today, there's only moving forward! There's a surprising amount of grace, for such a large-framed dragonet, and given with the bounce in his step, it's evident that he'll be quite the handful. His path around the sands pauses now, and he stays in that low crouch, studying the figures in white robes.

Rilkie squeezes back, and finally manages to speak, as she watches the hatchlings dart around and choose their lifemates. "It's so intense down here..." She murmers, just loud enough for Camerryn.

Ronari sees the newest Hatchling to emerge and points her out to Cyrra. "Oh look! She's beautiful!"

Nimiriel is still as relaxed as only more than four decades of hatchings can make a person. "Some of them do have an easier time. Even the ones that take longer seem just as happy, though, in the end."

Haisen admits a reluctant and somewhat growly, "A bit." to Camerryn, arms coming to fold loosely over her chest again while she watches. Even if she doesn't quite look as nervous as she feels, she doesn't seem particularly inclined to be talkative, either. The newest hatchling is eyed warily and her feet continue to shuffle on the heated sands.

Brilliance in Numbers Egg shudders again, the movement lasting longer and becoming bolder now. There's no pretending now that the egg isn't on the move, as it seesaws from one side to the other impatiently.

Water's Embrace Green Hatchling's head crashes through the shell, followed shortly by her body that lands in a clumsy heap on Telgar's hatching sands. It takes the newborn green a little while to gather herself up, during which her head cants about trilling her creel of irritation for all to hear. Then, very slowly, do her back legs and forelimbs come together to push herself standing.

Seramara is trying to watch that brown without actually *watching* him. One does not look a predator in the eye. "Well, I'll dodge if he comes near *me*," she answers Olwyn. "He'd better play nice if I'm the one he wants. What a *beautiful* green!" That one she looks at straight-on, wide-eyed wondering.

Cyrra nods her head in answer to Ronari. "She is," the teen murmurs, ending up sounding rather squeaky. The coltish girl lifts one foot to scratch at the back of her leg nervously.

Graedin still looks puzzled. "S'rean - Oh! Sorean!" He cranks his next for a moment to look after said young man and his blue, before shuffling his feet again. "Shells, I'm burning the tar out of my feet." He misses the hatching of the Water's Embrace green as he squeezes Sera's hand reassuringly. "Goin' faster than I thought."

Camerryn nods his head, a silent answer for Rilkie. His eyes are for the Hatchlings only, and their movements upon the Sands. As the brown stops, he relaxes, but only long enough to see the green. "Suddenly I'm glad the sands are hot - keeps me awake!" Not like he could sleep through this! He grins at Haisen, sparing her the briefest of glances. "Really? You?! I'm shocked!" And then he's wigging his free hand. "If you get too nervouse, you can hold my hand." If *she's* nervouse.. not him. Of course not him...

The Lunar Explosion egg explodes spectacularly, raining the closest candidates to it in a shower of fragmented shells. Lucky for the green of two left feet that emerges, one of those close by is who she bonds with immediately, though not until after she's sprawled in a comical way at the girl's feet. "Wohnsooth," the bright-eyed, near tearful harper says. "I am *your* Hespra."

Olwyn grins sidelong at the other candidate. "I don't think you need to worry if you're his intended. I've never seen a dragon even accidentally hurt the person it Impresses." She follows the gaze of the other girls to the newly-hatched green and nods. "She is. They all are, but she does seem to have an extra special shine."

Ring of Fire Egg has remained silent and still amidst the other noisily hatching eggs, until the dragonet within has finally had enough. A mighty *crack* starts a flurry of activity, and it rolls end over end a time or two before it stops.

Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling starts forward again, a quick run, his selection apparently made. An off key bugle of excitement sounds once he finds her--here she is! Yep, this one's the one for him, and he gazes up at his tanned, blonde haired partner-to-be with no small amount of adoration.

Haisen offers a terse, "Not *that* nervous." to clarify. She's not *that* nervous. Well, she's trying not to /be/ that nervous. Cam's hand is eyed almost balefully and she gives a curt shake of her head; definitely not *that* nervous. She lapses into silence again, starting to drift away in order to get a better look at what else is happening on the sands.

E'tyn, so commanded, watches obediently as his attention is directed to the decisive brown. For his Weyrwoman, a hand slips out to rest lightly behind her back, the gesture steadying his own nerves possibly, and filled with formality. "I'm watching," he teases lightly.

Rilkie is, to say the least, startled by the sudden voice in her head. "Ancaith." She echoes, in a dazed voice. After a moment's confusion, training and instinct kick in, and she turns, leading the brown towards the proper area, "Food. This way, yes, plenty of it. Good stuff, not the dregs left for the last ones." She comments quietly.

Seramara half-giggles, too nervous for the real thing. "Maybe not, but I don't want to be the first...oh, the brown..." Peering after the dragonet (that eager run was unmistakable), she bounces up and down in happiness. No time to be nervous when the good stuff is happening. "Rilkie! Rilkie and An--Ancaith!"

Camerryn takes a hasty step back, pulling Rilkie along with him... until she's no long responsive. It takes the lad a little longer to understand the situation, and then he's grinning widely. "Rilkie... " is all he can manage to say. And, while Haisen might not be that nervouse, Camerryn probably is. And now he's hand-holding-partnerless. Poor boy.

Brilliance in Numbers Egg gives one last protracted shudder and then splits solidly down the middle as one dark headknob, then the other, punches through its outer shell. As the shell falls open, it leaves in its wake one rather guilty looking bronze, who perks up immediately when he settles his eyes on the ranks of candidates.

Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling

Distinctively tall, with an athletic build and broad shoulders, this bronze is striking for his build alone. Add to this his rich, ruddy color and he's even more noticeable. Fiery shades of carnelian bronze swathe his hide from his squared-off muzzle to his stubby copper tail, paling only slightly from those rusty, oxidated hues as they descend the insides of his legs and coat his belly and throat. Perhaps his most unique feature is his very large, swept-back headknobs, both a deeper shade than the surrounding hide. He's not a terribly bulky dragon, trending toward lithe rather than brimming with muscle, but he has a certain presence about him that refuses to be ignored, displayed in the tilt of his head and the determined glow of his eyes.

Breena, too, spies the brown's imminent Impression, and she hurries Rilkie's way. "Ancaith, did I hear? Wonderful--come this way, Tenli's got food for them."

Rilkie heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
Rilkie has left.
Ancaith heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
Ancaith has left.

Cyrra grins weakly and moistens her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Wow...a brown...Rilkie Impressed a brown," she says, as if Ronari didn't know.
Olwyn nods. "Looks like you're safe for now, though," she notes as the brown chooses. "Congrats, Rilkie!" she calls out, doing a little dance of triumph for the other girl as well as to give her feet some relief.

Graedin draws back slightly as the brown heads in the diretion of the small knot near him. Then, as he finds Rilkie, he beams. "Hey, look, it's Rilkie this time!" A quick look of the sands around reveals two greens he didn't notice before. And considerably closer than that bronze. He steps half behind Cam and Sera for protection. "Whonder who they're after?"

The most non-descript egg of the clutch begins to shimmy and shake in a frenetic fashion. The shadow that exists across the shell of the Eclipse of the Cookie egg dissolves into dust as a chubby green face pokes out, shy. For her to get her bearings, it takes but a moment, and then she's found hers: Shialla. "Oh! Firyath!"

Water's Embrace Green Hatchling, with limbs gathered, steps forward clumsily, her left foot moving one direction her right another which gives her another moment's pause. As the white robes of the candidates catch her sight, the thin, pathetic creel fades out into a head tilt of curiosity that drives herself into coordinated motion. Faster now, though still lacking grace, the water sprayed green waddles towards the loose semi-circle.

Sunwriting Egg has arrived.

Ronari's eyes fill with tears of happiness for her friend. She waves to Rilkie's retreating back, unable to form a coherent sentence as the atmosphere of the day has enveloped her totally. To Cam she extends her other hand--the one not occupied by Cyrra's, and calls his name quietly. The nerves that have been absent these long sevendays have finally arrived--and in full force.

Camerryn looks distinctly uncomfortable with Rilkie gone. He shuffles in the sands, mumbling, "Heat," as a lame excuse for his obvious discomfort. But it's not the Sands that make him edgy, it's the dragons. Graedin's hiding catches him by surprise, but he has no witty remark for the situation, just a casual, sympathetic and understanding smile.

Seramara isn't much protection for Graedin, but she'll try her best. "I guess we'll find out. Here comes that green, maybe she wants you. Or that one--no, wait, that one just picked Shialla--" Her usual bouncing is muted, though it's still the best way to see what all's going on.

Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling, when he settles his eyes on candidates, notably settles his eyes on /girl/ candidates. Nevermind he's very apparently bronze, and that's... just not going to work out. He takes a few stumbly steps before he gets the hang of that whole walking thing--and when he does, he near-prances toward the females he first sets eyes on.

Cyrra looks at Ronari with a hint of worry, brows furrowing until she realizes that those are happy tears. She tips her head, looking past Ronari to Camerryn, who has lost his buddy. Then, a larger dragonet is on the move and her eyes shift to the bronze, making sure she doesn't end up on the wrong side of him.

Ring of Fire Egg hasn't moved again, but tiny fractures have started to become visible, as the activity inside it increases. Not far now, as that web of cracks grows, though it's still impossible to see what lies inside.

Nimiriel's brow furrows as she watches that bronze's antics. "And that one," she says to E'tyn, shaking her head, "that one's just confused. Awfully cute, though."

Olwyn eyes the bronze dragon curiously. "Now that I've not seen before. Usually they make a beeline for the males. Why would a bronze look at any girls?" she muses out loud, never pausing in her Hatching Sands Shuffle for a moment.

Water's Embrace Green Hatchling picks up her speed as this walking thing becomes far easier with practice *and* due to the rising motivation of finding not only her chosen, but food as well. Yellow creeps into her curious gaze, swirling hunger-fueled agitation as she trips along, dismissing candidates without truly looking at them until she stops at the feet of a dainty, dark-haired teenager. A shine enters her eyes and with a laughably tiny bugle of triumph, she leans forward to butt gently against the girl's legs.

Camerryn looks like a lost little canine, really. Finally, when Cyrra's eyes meet his, he hastens over - any excuse, really - and says, "Crazy bronze is headed for girls, might need a.. a..." A what, a shield?

Graedin's grin to Cam and Sera in return is a trifle sheepish. "Nah - no green'd be interested in me." There we go with those small holder morals again, despite various beatings about it from others. "Maybe she's for you, Sera. Or 'Ari - looks like she'd be perfect for her. Or Cyrra. Or Olwyn, or..." he trails off mumbling, naming just about every other girl on the sands. As part of his protection from skeery greens leaves, he erks, and shifts to try to herd Seramara in closer to close the gaps that are appearing as more impressions are made.

From the non-descript Lunar Explosion Egg hatches a vibrant, royal blue beauty who stomps on the remaining shards a time or two before setting off to find his mate. When she's found, Andri, the auburn haired Telgari throws her arms around the blue's neck. "Tinsioth!"

Ronari falls to her knees and throws her arms around the green's neck. "Suraveth!" She calls out, more out of joy then duty, and strokes gently the softly still damp hide.

Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg has arrived.

Breena hurries forward again, this time to Ronari and her Suraveth. "Ronari, right? Congratulations, she's beautiful! Come with me, Tenli and Therese will make sure you can get her plenty to eat."

Seramara takes a few nervous steps to the side when that bronze approaches. "I'm not your type," she tells him, trying to track the other eggs and hatchlings. "Really. Graedin, if you keep doing that, I'm going to trip and if that green wants me she won't be able to find me. Oh, hurrah Andri! And--and Ronari!"

Suraveth heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
Suraveth has left.

Ring of Fire Egg has already started to fracture under the assault from within, but the dragonet has moved too quickly for anyone to catch a glimpse of it. That changes, however, as a golden wing spar finally breaks free, followed soon after by the rest of her: Telgar's newest queen, a Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling.

Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling

A coastal sky just before sunrise, pale gold and dew-heavy roses, washes this delicate queen from pert nose to tail, lending a diaphanous glow to her hide. A sculptor's chisel must have been used to carve out her sinuous neck, regal jaw, and the barely darker ridges which frame her large eyes. Shadows of glimmering bluish orchid can be seen amongst the brush strokes leading down the base of a strongly defined torso and lean flanks, lowlights complimenting her striking color. Curved ivory talons tip her dainty paws, while on her back gracious wings carry gossamer trails of the creamy rose glow of her hide in their webbing, the shading reaching up to mark more darkly along her spars. Her slight build radiates not only the inherited elegance of her dam, but the compassionate wisdom in her depthless ocean gaze.

Haisen will just stand over here and hope that odd bronze doesn't look at her overly long. She shifts her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, attention sliding from the hatchlings to the eggs and then to the occasional impressee -- like Ronari and her Suraveth.

Graedin apologizes to Sera, mumbling more. As the Water's Embrace green stops before Ronari and impression is made, he beams, ear to ear, fit to make his face split. "Ari! I knew you'd impress! And Suraveth! - that's perfect." His attention remains on the pair as they head off with the weyrlingmasters, before a nudge from a neighbor reminds him to keep looking onto the sands.

Camerryn gapes as dragons charge from everywhere. That crazy bronze coming at the girls, and then the crazy green... at least the green is stopped, and he lets out a sigh of relieve that sounds vaguelly like, "Good job, Ronari."
Sunwriting Egg makes its first motion of the day: a tiny little shake, a rock from one side to the other, before it quiets back down with an expectant air.

Ronari heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
Ronari has left.

Cyrra's jaw droops as well as her hand as her partner is choosen by the lovely little green. "Oh Ronari, she's beautiful. Congratulations," she murmurs as the pair leaves, standing alone now and looking as if she feels very small indeed.

Seramara wipes a sheen of sweat from her forehead. "Oh, I knew Ronari would Impress. And she got the prettiest green...oh *shellcrack*." Her voice drops to an awed whisper when the gold hatches. "Beautiful, beautiful. Oh please..." But one doesn't think that way on the Sands, and she diverts herself. "Come stand with me and Graedin, Cyrra."

Camerryn will happily step in and provide Cyrra a handhold, or ashield.. or just.. ya know... safety in numbers. "Chin up, Cyrra. Can't be worse than Threadfall, right?"

Olwyn lets out a brief cheer as Ronari meets her match. "Congratulations!" she calls out to the friendly girl, then directs her attention back to the various hatchlings reeling around. "Wow, a queen. None of the eggs had made me think they would have one."

Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling struts along in front of the girls, enjoying himself quite a lot as he gets a few admiring glances (and a few grumbles from boys wondering just what he's up to). The hatchling isn't deterred, though, and in fact he goes on to offer first a passing green and then the gold that hatches smarmy croons before he finally, apparently, comes to his senses. Hey, look! Boys! He trots that way at last.

Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg gives a twitch just one subtle little twitch. The only evidence of movement is a small trench left in the hot sand.

Nimiriel doesn't look surprised that there's a queen, but *something* has caught her attention, and she looks sidelong at Daelyth next. "She's kind of small, isn't she? Well. Smaller than the others you've birthed, anyway." Daelyth, meanwhile, doesn't seem to think anything's wrong with that--she just happily raises her voice in yet another joyful hum.

Graedin catches a glimpse of Cyrra's face and wordlessly offers his free arm out for her to shelter under, nodding in support of Sera's words. Finally he manges, a trifle thickly, "Come on, Cyrra." As all the excitement over the gold wanes, he glances back to the sands, keeping an eye out on the rest of the hatchlings out there. "Hey, that bronze's on the move - or /puttin'/ on the moves, I should say."

Camerryn is oblivious to golds. He'd much rather shuffle his feet and pretend like he's being manly, and protective. "Is he finally coming to his senses," he asks Graedin.. and then he spots the gold. "Ooo, pretty little thing, even if she is kinda gooey."

Cyrra shifts over to stand by Camerryn, nodding faintly, though it is doubtful she really heard him. The shy girl shifts over to stand behind his shoulder a little, still to timid to take his hand.

Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling sits there in what remains of her shell, head canted as she ponders what to do next. Pale golden wings spread, and she tries in vain to shake off a few of the excess shards, one of which is stuck to the top of her head, marring her otherwise delicate beauty. She heaves a put-upon sigh, but gets to her feet, determined to carry on in spite of the less than ideal conditions. But who to choose..?

"Interval," explains E'tyn, then immediately looks apologetic for it. "I mean well..." The Weyrleader looks to the insufferably proud father of this clutch, the shared gaze between rider and dragon bringing a quick grin to his mouth. "He says it's not *his* fault at any rate."

Brown the color of tanned hide coats the color of the wing spar that pokes its way out of the Emerald Skyroads Egg, his coloring already a fine contrast for the egg from which he's birthed. When he's finally revealed, the smallish brown within proves to be that same shade all over, save for a rakish patch of emerald green around his left eye. He's a decisive one, though--he bolts forward and stakes his claim on a tow-haired boy from the Weavercraft. "Vereth!"

Graedin doesn't get to play big brother to Cyrra, but it doesn't look like he's too concerned with it at the moment. Since there are no skeery greens near him at the moment, he moves to close up the gaps left by those impressing from the little knot around him. "Dunno, Cam. Lookit his hide, though." He still hasn't let go of Sera, and he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Camerryn wiggles his free hand towards Cyrra, the offer open. "It's not so bad, Cyrra, really. Breath in, breath out..." Their earlier disagreements seem to have been forgotten, at least for the time being.

Haisen shifts her gaze briefly to the gold, mouth contorting into an unreadable line before her eyes wander onward. Keeping tabs on this or that or the other -- how many eggs left, how many hatchlings, how many candidates -- but overall just keeping to herself.

Seramara is still just a tad fixated on the gold. It's her lifelong fascination with shiny objects, really. "Oh look, she's *walking*." As dragons do. "Cam's right, Cyrra. We're doing really well, and nobody's been hurt or anything. Just Impressions, and those are of the good."

Sunwriting Egg fidgets again, the motion stronger as the occupant within comes to life. The egg actually bounces a little, starting a cascade of sand down from its slight mound, and the egg tips end over end as it comes to rest in a little depression.

Cyrra finally breaks down and slides her small hand into Camerryn's. Then, she makes another frantic search of the stands. That's it! There is what she is looking for. Cyrras spots her sister, Tiriana and her adoptive father, Sh'drian in the stands, a smile now breaking out on her face.

Olwyn, in contrast to those she's standing near, seems more interested in the bronze. She continues to watch him curiously. "I guess he's figured out he shouldn't look at the girls. Who will he pick, though?" she says out loud, but not necessarily in a tone requiring a response.

Camerryn seems maybe more relieved than Cyrra when his hand is taken. He throws his shoulders back, and dons a wide grin. Forced, but it works. He gives her a reassuring squeeze, and nods for Graedin. "Not as scary as that brown was, that's for sure."

Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling, once he finds the boys, doesn't really waste any time. Purposeful at last, he straightens his shoulders and then sets off after a brief pause and a sniff of the air at a faster pace, his mind apparently now made up. He butts his head at the stomach of one short, brown-headed boy.

C'mryn tenses. He takes three steps back in quick succession, but they're no match for the bronze. His stomach is hit, and he nearly topples. Cyrra's hand is gone, and for a moment, the young lad just tries to catch his breath. Eventually, a confident hand reaches out to touch his bronze. *his* bronze! "His name is Tausreth!" he cause, the elation of Impression clear in his voice. It's only moments later before Cam's hand returns to his stomach, and he grimaces. "Yea.. food.. a very good idea..."

Graedin bellows, loud and clear, "CAM!" He shifts on the sands, "He got a bronze! Guess he'll be staying put /now/ for a while!" A beaming smile is directed over towards Camerryn - now C'mryn - as he heads off the sands, before he looks back to still hatching eggs. And Cyrra. Poor Cyrra keeps getting left behind. Now he offers the arm out again, "Hey, come on over," and moves to close up the rank.

Breena heads C'mryn's way, laughing. "This just figures. Remember now, don't bend over, hmm? Follow me this way, they're waiting in the barracks with food." She motions toward the barracks, clearing the way for the new-made pair.

The Sunwriting Egg quivers again, tentative at first and then bolder as one delicate talon slices through one of the twin patches of color on its shell. A paw follows, and then a nose, wriggling out of the shell and shrugging it off as a dark blue slips free of its confines.

Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling

Rich Prussian blue shades itself across this dragon's hide, cloaking him evenly in its night-hued shades. Average height and length, he's slender enough to give the impression of greater length, helped greatly in this illusion by his long and sinuous neck, tail, and limbs, the latter tipped by dainty black talons. His fine-boned features are distinctly patrician: a narrow muzzle and rounded jaw, deep-set doe-like eyes, and delicately curved headknobs, all covered in velvet hide the color of the eastern sky just after sunset. The wings which extend from his back are large and broad, with generous sails which, while tinted the same twilight shade as the rest of him, are thin enough to glow translucent in the light.

Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg twitches again and again, until its full on shaking and cracking. Whatevers in there is big and it wants out.

C'mryn spares a glance for Breena, and in that sudden instant, his eyes go wide and a sef-concious hand goes to the back of his rob, making sure it stays in place. It doesn't take much convincing to get him to leave, though.

C'mryn heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
C'mryn has left.
Tausreth heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
Tausreth has left.

Seramara starts jumping up and down, almost pulling her hand out of Graedin's grip. "Cam! Cam's, he's *great*! Congratulations!" The blue is almost overlooked--only almost. "And another. Over half done now. Come on over, Cyrra."

Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling is momentarily distracted from her quest for a lifemate by one of her fellow hatchlings, to whom she gives an encouraging trill. Only once he's safely on his way does she turn back to her own task, though it's not turning out to be an easy one. Already, she's made one pass of the remaining Candidates, and each step gets a little slower as she tries to avoid having to go back again.

The Galaxial Glories Egg breaks into four tidy, evenly sized pieces, leaving a prim and proper sky blue dragonet sitting on the hot sands, looking rather smug. So pleased is he with the overly neat destruction of his egg that he has to be nudged into getting his act in gear by his dam and sire. When he finally makes his selection, it's clear that this pairing will be a study in opposites, for he finds his mate in young Lindra, the messiest candidate of them all.

Olwyn grins as the formerly-confused bronze finally figures things out. "Oh, good, he's not as confused as he looked at first. Good for Cam, or whatever he's going to be called now."

Cyrra, looking shocked and yet still smiling for Camerryn, sidles over to lurk rather forlornly near Graedin. Borrowing his strength, she glances out at the new blue when attention is drawn to him, blinking back the heat.

Haisen is peripherally aware of the dwindling candidate ranks and she unconsciously begins to gravitate towards those that are left. She's chewing a little on her lower lip, absently, eyebrows knotted while she studies the latest hatchlings.

Graedin bounces slightly with Sera - that way his arm doesn't get yanked out of the socket, see - and beams. "Not many left now though. Oh, lookit that blue!" He gives a friendly smile to Haisen and beckons her over with the free hand sheltering Cyrra. "Has that gold picked yet?"

Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling, finding himself on the sands now, glances around once at the candidates, the Weyrleaders, the stands, and then--having noted his audience--he straightens up and hops a little, finding his feet under him. Then, that established, he starts gliding off, graceful already, toward the candidates.

Seramara hasn't a free hand to comfortingly pat Cyrra, but she smiles at the girl, nodding towards the pacing gold and gliding blue. "Aren't they lovely? And nobody's getting charged...no, the gold can't seem to find anyone." Her eyes widen. "maybe there'll be a Stands Impression! I've heard of those!"
Its jewels shimmering and shifting under the pressure from within, the Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg begins to shake in earnest, cracks spidering their way from starry top to bottom. The shell practically disintegrates in the end, less hatching its occupant than /unveiling/ a Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling.

Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling

This hatchling is made up of sooty shadow and fire in the form of brilliant molten bronze. Hot metal spills across his hide from the top of his head to the tip of his tail; dripping down egg-thin sides, haunches and long neck. Broad shoulders and long limbs cool into a deep mellow hue, his toes and talons fogging with dark, ashy black. The same black darkens his otherwise transparent wingsails and sturdy bronzed wingbones, his wingspan impressive even out of the shell. Like his sire, there is an obvious potential for strength in his every movement - and an unshakeable confidence in every step.

Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling has slowed so much now that she's nearly stopped, and she pauses to look deeply into each face that she passes by. Some are dismissed out of hand--usually the boys, but a girl or two, as well--while others she seems to be marking for further consideration. All at once, she stops in front of a young woman with long, auburn hair, and where there was unhappiness before, now, there's only love, for here is the one who will make her life complete.

Stepping into the ocean on a hot day must surely feel like this--the radiating heat of sand and sun melting away with each rushing wave of cool water. That's the feeling that floods over you, and it's only the presence of other candidates around you that indicate that you're still standing on the sweltering hatching sands. << Oh... where *are* you? >> It's hard to tell where the voice came from, but it's definitely there, and whoever owns that voice is rather unhappy and discouraged. It's surprised next, << Oh! >>, and a wave of pure, unadulterated joy washes over you, followed by that voice--*her* voice. << Oh, there you are, my Olwyn, and here I am! >> And there she is, the Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling, her eyes gone amethyst as she looks up at you adoringly. << Aleith, that's me, Aleith and Olwyn--oh, doesn't that sound nice--now we're finally together. Now can we go eat? >>

Nimiriel straightens, watching the young queen, and shares a look with Daelyth as the young one finds her lifemate. "Ah, see...that's the part that makes it all worthwhile, you know, E'tyn? Why be nervous when you get to watch stuff like this?"

The bright yellow spirals of the Cat's-Eye Reflection egg crumble into the egg, eliciting what sounds like a tiny sneeze. This in turn causes the remaining egg to fall apart to display the curled up body of a teeny tiny jade green. She looks about and then moves in silence to stand hesitantly in front of a wisp of a boy, just as shy as she is. Y'mer barely manages to stutter out a name: "Daejith."

"Next time," the Weyrleader is quick to respond, an easy rock to his legs, "I hope to be sitting up there." The hand free of his trousers waves to the galleries, "And watching rather than roasting."

Olwyn glances around the sands, the diminishing number of candidates and dragons alike not seeming to phase her too much. She's been here before, after all. She turns her head towards Seramara, her mouth opening when the young queen comes to a halt before her. Her head whips back and she stares into the amethyst eyes in disbelief. "Aleith? Are you sure?" she stammers, then tears fill her eyes as she puts out a hand to touch the delicate gold. "Oh, of course, we can't let you starve, darling."

Breena's eyes widen some as she watches the gold's impression, and yet once more, she's hurrying forward, this time towards Olwyn. "I just bet she's hungry, follow me now, we'll take care of that. This way..."

out after the weyrlings on the bronzerider's arm.

Olwyn, D'rin, and Giremi

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:49:05 GMT

D'rin is searching around the bowl...he is somewhat in a state of disarray. He is lacking boots and his shirt. "Kelith...I am gonna get you for this one." His long silver braid is immaculate, despite his thrown together apparence. There is a pair of boots and a vest in his hands that are very definatly not his...as well as two cushions.

Peribanth sit over to the side, though he is looking around as well.

Olwyn strolls rather aimlessly around the bowl staring at the sky, her sauntering that of someone killing time or possibly insomnia. Her destinationless path eventually draws her near the searching rider. She pulls her attention from the stars, watching the man quizzically for a few moments, then finally she asks curiously, "Are you alright?"

D'rin drops off the pile at Peribanth's front feet. He then looks over at Olwyn. "Uh...Hello there." he looks at his state of disarray. "I am well, actually...I am trying to find one more cushion, my shirt, and my boots...then I will be fine." He glare st Peribanth. "Peribanth didn't manage to find everything that Kelith threw out of our weyr while we were busy."
Vylana is green Kelith's rider, at Telgar Weyr.

Olwyn stares at the brownrider blankly for a few moments. "You haven't found everything that Kelith threw out of your weyr?" she repeats, her tone as confused as her voice. Before the man can explain, though, she continues with more comprehension. "Oh! Kelith is that green who likes to play tricks on her rider, right? And others, I guess this means..."

D'rin chuckles. "She decided that our weyr was a bit cluttered...so she threw out some things...shoes...vests...shirts...pillows..." he shakes his head and grins. "Peribanth managed to save my flight jacket and a pair of Vylana's boots...though she got to the rest." he shakes his head. "Remind me to move most of the cushions and not to leave clothes in the outer room..."

Olwyn shakes her head in sympathy. "That's too bad. From what her rider was telling me the other day, she sounds like quite the mischievous dragon. Let's see, you said you were looking for a cushion, a shirt, and some boots? Do you want me to go grab a glowbasket to help look?" she asks, squinting at the bowl ground around her.

D'rin chuckles. "That would be wonderful." He then ponders. "So you have met the lovely Vylana..." He smiles brightly. "What do you think of her? And Kelith isn't so bad...She and Peribanth get along well...usually." He smiles. D'rin is standing next to Peribanth...bootless and shirtless. A small pile of items sits in front og Peribanth...a female's vest, boots too small for D'rin, and two cushions. "They are quite the pair actually."

Olwyn isn't far from the dragon and his rider, close enough to easily engage in conversation with the human of the pair. "She seemed nice. I just talked with her briefly over the serving tables the other day. I didn't even catch her name, to tell the truth, just her dragon's. Or shipfish. Whatever it is she should be referred to as," the candidate adds humorously.

Giremi crosses the Bowl, jacketless in the warmer weather, hands tucked into pockets making his way towards the Records Room it would seem. Fitting for a harper no doubt. The sound of voices and the sight of dragons catches his attention and he looks that way. One of the figures by Peribanth gives him pause, but he steels his shoulders and changes his path slightly to intersect with the conversants. "Good evening," he offers politely, "and Harper's duties."

D'rin grins at Olwyn. "Vylana and Kelith...and the description of Kelith is rather accurate, though she can fly and swim rather fast." He shakes his head. "Kelith decided that the weyr was too 'cluttered' for her taste so she went about fixing the problem..." He then gives Giremi a short bow. "Good evening, Harper." He clears his throat a bit. "I can explain the lack of shoes." He gives a dashing smile. "A dragon...named Kelith went on a decluttering spree of the weyr and many articles of clothing and pillows ended up in the ledge."

Olwyn grins back at the brownrider. "I can imagine. While I was speaking with Vylana, Kelith was apparently insisting that she wasn't imagining that she was a shipfish, that she truly was one, and she was stalking Peribanth as her prey," she says, turning her grin to the brown dragon for a moment. When the craftsman approaches, she gives him a respectful nod and smile.

Giremi doesn't appear all that curious about D'rin's lack of footwear. "Oh," he says simply and returns Olwyn's nod. "A dragon who thinks she's a shipfish? Really? Huh." The harper's brows climb upward a bit.

D'rin shakes his head. "She acts like one." He says softly. "Kelith acts like a shipfish...that is certian. And Peribanth is her usual prey...He always lets her win their games." He shrugs. Peribanth peers down at the people around him and warbles softly. "If you are intrested in Kelith...I would suggest talking to Vylana, though I wouldn't suggest trying to find her for a day or so."

Olwyn listens to the two men for a moment, then shakes her head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, sir, I better go grab those glows for you so you can finish finding your stuff and then get to bed. Morning chores come early," she says with a grimace. Then, giving a brief wave to each of the men, she heads towards the living caverns at a brisk pace.

You paged D'rin and Giremi with 'Feel free to say I came back with a glowbasket and then headed for bed. Night!'.

Barracks RP

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:46:31 GMT

It's late, and most everyone is settled down, or already sleeping. Glows are turned down, and the cavernous barracks should be a quiet, peaceful place. 'Should' being the operative word. Dragon-sized snores are drifting from Graedin's cot, the oldest candidate sprawled and uncomfortable looking on top of his covers.

Olwyn, despite the log-sawing going on in the barracks, is sleeping peacefully in her own cot. She's stirs briefly, but only to pull the sheets which she'd kicked off earlier up to her ears, settling back down into deeper sleep with a soft sigh.

Curled up in the ball she sleeps in, Ronari snuggles deeper into her 'nest' of blankets and furs. Her long black hair is loose and splayed across her face. Her breathing hitches once but resetlles as she dreams in the first peaceful sleep she's had in days.

A soft whimper sounds from Cyrra's cot and the shy girl squirms, one leg hanging out from under the covers and dangling over the edge of her bed. Restlessly, she turns over, unable to sleep with all the noise. In the dim lighting, she pulls a stuff dragon out from under the covers and squeezes it tight, burrying her face in it. The poor, well-loved patchwork toy gives no complaint, bead eyes emotionless. Cyrra pops up out of bed, bare feet pattering as she wanders in the direction of Graedin's cot, rubbing her eyes with one balled hand while the drown plushie is clutched in the cradle of her other arm. Normally loose hair is bound now, the braid nearly to her backside. Appraoching the male candidates cot, she leans down over him, brows furrowing. Then, she pokes at him with two fingers experimentally.

Graedin gives an exceptionally loud, grunting snort - the kind that usually signals a sleeper about to awaken. The hope, however, is short lived, as instead, he merely turns his head /away/ from the wall. It seemed almost impossible for the snorking to get louder, but now it sounds like an avelanche. The sound spreads through the barracks in ripples and waves, causing another restless candidate - a girl from Lemos - to pop up in her cot. "Shardit - smother him, Cyrra, so we can get some sleep!"

Deeply asleep or not, who could continue to dream through the racket emerging from the miner? Olwyn, at the very least, cannot. She awakes with a start as the noise increases and the protest is voiced. "Hrmmm?" she mumbles incoherently to herself, blinking around sleepily as she tries to get her bearings despite the hour.

Not many people like to be awoken from a deep and peaceful sleep, and Ronari is no exception. With a sharp word on her tongue, the bleary-eyed girl sits up, pulling a fur around her shoulders as she does so. "Don't smother him Cyrra, if you kill him we're all in trouble." Motioning for the quiet girl to move aside, she flings an extra pillow in the direction of her older 'brother's' head.

Cyrra, still leaning over Graedin, shakes her head at the mention of smothering and then gawks and gives a squeak of surprise when a pillow comes hurtling in their direction. "Oh no," she murmurs, blinking down at the male candidate, frozen to the spot with one arm still reaching out as if to shake him awake.
The intention is pure, the aim is true - the pillow strikes Grae right in the kisser and bounces behind him to the floor. He jerks awake, only to see someone lookming over him. "AEARGL!" Not so much on the coherant side, he pushes back slightly in his cot, and then gapes at Cyrra. "/Cyrra/?" his tone is completely astounded. "Did you /hit/ me?"

"Won't get in trouble if we all do it. They can't kick us all out," Olwyn slurs in response to Ronari's attempt to stay Graedin's death sentence. Despite her attempts to look alert as she glances around the barracks, she once again starts as Graedin yells, clearly on the verge of drifting back to sleep if things are quiet enough for a moment.

"No, I did." Ronari grumbles from her perch. "You were snoring loud enough to wake the dead, Graedin. It was hit you with the pillow, or lose an eardrum." She holds out her hand , shivering once from the chillness in the air. "But now that you're up and the problem's solved, might I have my pillow back please?"
Ronari pages to Cyrra, Graedin, and Olwyn: Sorry, major lag.

Cyrra back peddles a step and ends up on her bottom next to the cot, staring at Graedin as if he had just turned into a watch-wher or something as equally unlikely. "I...I...I..." is all she can come up with for now, her panic and surprise bringing on a round of hiccups to boot. Hic! Cyrra claps her free hand over her mouth, eyes wide and her stuffed comfort clutched to her chest. Hic! The hopeless young woman looks to Ronari as she speaks, clearly feeling saved as her expression softens a little.

Graedin huhs. "I don't /have/ your pillow, 'Ari. Dunno what happened to it." His tone is a trifle surly and he swings his legs over the side of the cot, offering Cyrra a hand up. "Shells, child, I don't bite. I wouldn't've been /mad/ if you hit me, just surprised you'd gotten up the nerve." He grunts, "Breaking 'stone all day today. Dust always cloggs my nose at night. Sorry." As he moves, he finds the pillow and then launches it carlessly towards Ronari and Olwyn's cots.

Though there is talking, with the horrible snoring stopped, Olwyn can't seem to fight the battle against sleep any longer. She collapses backwards into her cot and rolls to one side just in time to avoid getting hit with the pillow. She's out like a light in seconds, unaware of any chaos that might go on around her-as long as Graedin doesn't start snoring again.

Deftly catching the pillow one-handed, Ronari stares at it a moment, unsure how exactly she managed that. With the shrug of the slee-deprived, she tucks it back between her knees and curls up to try and sleep again. It's only then that she hears Graedin's explanation, and she gestures vaguely towards the trunk at the foot of her cot. "I've some mint oil in my pack there Grae, spread it on your chest and on your upper lip and you'll breathe easier." She rumbles before plowing her face into it's pillow.

Cyrra shyly accepts the offered hand, her own small one reaching back up towards his. The young woman simply shrugs her shoulders in a helpless manner. With her hand now occupied, she hiccups again more loudly and her face goes pink with embarrassment. The other hand with the stuffed dragon is then brought up, the patchy brown hiding her mouth. Then, a sudden realization hits the candidate. She, a girl past her childhood, has a plushie out in public and in front of a man, no less. Mortified, Cyrra whips it behind her back. Hic hic hic!

Graedin grins conspiratorily at Cyrra, looking pleased that she managed not to be utterly terrified of him, and tugs on her hand to pull her gently to one side. Then he quickly whips his pillow with deadly aim right at Ronari's rear, before ducking back to hide behind Cyrra.

RP in the Galleries

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:44:58 GMT

With a softly satisfied smile, Ronari decides that now would be a good time to make her exit. Following in the goldrider's wake, she slips out silently and hopefully unnoticed. That should be enough of a distraction, right?

"That sounds wonderful, Seramara?" Quizzical that name, it's followed by an even smile, warmth sparkling kind welcome in the Weyrleader's eyes. Until. Immediate, dark eyes cast down to find the hand at his arm, and the woman it's attached to, leaving E'tyn faintly pink-cheeked again, long after Gay's disappeared down the stairs. Ahem. Again, his hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head. "I wouldn't say -worst- daughter, given I haven't," his nose wrinkles, "Visited my parents yet. Have any of you had the chance to send missives to your families?"

Graedin eyes E'tyn and the whole pink cheeks thing for a long moment. Then looks after where Gay disappeared. A scratch at the stubble on his chin again and he says, "I figured I'd write as soon as I had a chance to ask you about the 'stone situation, sir. My folks won't worry. A weyr's the safest place to be right now. If you like, I can get something written up right now, so it can go out with the next sweeprider - find out how much 'stone they've got stockpiled - da' usually knows who has how much and what mines are doing well too." He rises. "And I'm out of klah too. Excuse me?" he edges past folks, hopefully without tripping on his way out.

"Tomorrow then?" E'tyn aims to confirm quickly before the man gets too far away, but concludes it with a hand that lifts. "Have a good evening, Graedin."

Cyrra makes a face at E'tyn's next question, tearing her eyes from the eggs and fixing them on him. Intelligent and cold, they seem to search him, evaluating both him and the nature of his question. The shy one opens her mouth to say something and then nods her head instead. It takes another few moments before she chases this with some actual, verbal feedback. "My father knows where we are and that I'm a candidate. Threadfall doesn't worry him, though I think he was displeased that I am to Stand," she murmurs quietly, as if she wants to answer politely yet wants to keep this to herself as well.

Graedin nods to E'tyn on the way down, giving a distracted wave to the folks he's leaving behind.

Seramara nods in answer. "I wrote my family and sent Moro with it. They know I'm here and safe, and it was Mother who said her fishing boat had seen Thread falling into the ocean, way off Tillek's coast." She half-smiles. "My brothers think I'm a wherrybrain to stay and Stand, but they're not the boss of me."

The galleries seem to be a busy place tonight, with plenty of people coming and going. Coming is Olwyn, who steps aside to let those leaving pass, then enters the galleries, blinking in surprise as she sees the small crowd. She ambles on over, her eyes darting to glance at the colorful eggs on the sand, then she gives a friendly nod and wave to her fellow candidates, adding a respectful, "Sir," for E'tyn.

"I don't think," E'tyn begins his admission to Seramara with another absent scratch to his hair, "I would have changed my mind even if I had been Searched during a Pass. It is," with the absence of both Gay and Graedin, there's a certain easier set to his shoulders, the man's posture leaning more carelessly against the railing as he regards the candidates before him. "An honor to be Searched and here," he jests faintly, eye twinkling lightly for Cyrra's benefit. "I had wondered what we might do to earn our keep." The sir makes him look up, head tipped and a welcome look cast for the approach of the former nanny, "Olwyn, have you spoken to your family yet?"

Cyrra goes pink and shies away from the weyrleader, lowering her gaze for a moment and then glancing back out at the eggs with a curious, child-like expression. "Good evening, sir," she all but whispers. Cyrra turns to Seramara smiling very sweetly to her as she creeps out, hurrying when she has a clear path. Shifting and going out as Olwyn steps back to ler her through with a few of the others that are leaving.

Seramara smiles back, waving at Cyrra as she leaves. "I hope she's not too shy to go out on the Sands when the Hatching comes," she murmurs, mostly to herself. "We can't bring the dragon *to* her. Evening, Olwyn." She scoots over so the other girl can have a seat *and* see the eggs.

"Evening, Seramara. Thanks," Olwyn says, dropping to sit down in the spot opened up for her. "Spoken with my family? About what, sir?" she asks the Weyrleader in bewilderment, having missed the part of the conversation relevant to finding out what she should have contacted them about.

"But what a dragon wants, a dragon'll find." E'tyn's look of welcome broadens into a grin at Seramara's words, hesitant for the somberness of the new age of this Interval, but still ready to grow wider for more lighthearted words. If his blink is somewhat baffled as they turn onto Olwyn, it's quickly compensated for by succinct explanation, "About Threadfall."

Seramara giggles. "Oh, I bet she'll Impress. It'll just be getting her out there with all the people and dragons watching her that might be tricky. And her dragon would be awfully confused if it had to waddle down into the lower caverns to find her." She glances at Olwyn. "My family's all worried about me now--my brothers think I should resign Candidacy and go home. As if." She rolls her eyes. "Do yours have an opinion?"

Olwyn shakes her head at E'tyn's explanation. "No, I haven't. My father doesn't need me to tell him things like that, and...I really hadn't thought to send word to my uncle. I suppose I probably should?" she asks more than says. She rolls her eyes as well on hearing about Seramara's family. "That's ridiculous. I doubt they'd have said such a thing during a Pass, so why now? I mean, even if it wasn't just a fluke, it's quite a while before any of us will have to deal with it even if we do Impress. As for my family, most of them would probably just be relieved if I could finally Impress. Most of them are or were riders, so my multiple candidacies is beginning to be looked at a bit askance. Getting eaten by Thread is normal, as far as they're concerned, I think." She works to keep her tone light and mostly succeeds-only a hint of hurt makes itself known.

"That's too true," E'tyn notes, paced nods indicating that he's attentive to Olwyn's words, his brow knitting at the mention of an uncle. "It'll be at least two turns before you'll be fighting Thread yourself, should you Impress and then... who knows if it wasn't just a fluke. And by then," the Weyrleader's youthful face seems all the more young in a split second of uncertainty, "We'll have come up with a plan. Maybe you can tell your folks that. Well," he attempts light laughter and fails miserably, "Hopefully way before then." Though he says nothing, the hint of hurt is all too audible to the bronzerider's ears and a sidelong glance attempts to study Olwyn surreptitiously.

"I hadn't really thought about that." Seramara's face brightens. Perhaps Nimiriel was right, and death isn't *totally* imminent. "Whatever's causing this might stop before our dragons mature. And we'll be *really* training, because we know what's going on. Kind of." She gives Olwyn a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Your family is being even sillier than mine. It's not like you could hide an egg away so it would *have* to Impress to you. There's other good things to be besides a rider...no offense, Weyrleader."

Olwyn nods her agreement to the words of both of her companions, adding a grateful smile to the other candidate. "I'd hope we'd be just as well trained even if all this wasn't happening, but it certainly will give an added impetus to whoever does Impress. Whatever the case, we're certainly getting an interesting perspective on things. We know what it's like to live at both the beginning and the end of an Interval," she muses. Specifically to the other girl's words, she adds, "That's what my uncle said after the last time I stood. And really, even if I managed to sneak an egg away, that still wouldn't guarantee anything," she finishes with a shrug.

"How many times have you stood before? And... end of an Interval," E'tyn repeats lightly, turning speculative eyes on Olwyn. "Is that what you think this is?" A wry chuckle emits out of the side of his mouth, dry sparkles turning into Seramara. "None taken, Seramara. I was once a woodcrafter before I Impressed. Well, long before I Impressed. Another time even."

"Fort Weyr Searched me a while after I turned thirteen and I've stood at all of their clutches since then until now," Olwyn says, quickly moving on to the Weyrleader's other question. "No, no, I certainly hope not! I was just thinking of the seriousness we do have to put towards training and all the inexperienced riders that are going up against Thread and such all at once. Though I suppose we do have an advantage since we do still have so many riders who fought Thread before and are still able to do so."

"We also don't lack the support of our Holds, yet." E'tyn almost seems bashful in his head duck that finds hands playing idle thumb wars against each other. "They've been supportive, even demanding, and it's nice that we've honest work to do. Nimiriel," the Weyrleader hesitates again, face shadowed by that continued head duck, "Is a wonderful Weyrwoman, but we have different ideas of what a Weyr should do in an Interval. You were at Fort. You know how to run a ground crew?" Perhaps it's out of kindness that he doesn't fix onto Olwyn's past experiences on the sands.

"That's true, and another advantage I hadn't thought of," Olwyn agrees. "Though I think part of that is that we're lucky in the Lord Holders we have...I know I'm young, but Thread seems like it was forever ago to me." She pauses for a moment, considering the bronzerider's admission about the difference in opinion between the Weyrleaders, but finally just moves on to his question without commenting. "I know the general theory that was taught to candidates, but I was only about six when Thread ended. I don't have any practical experience on ground crews."

E'tyn clears his throat, his expression broaching on a smile of bemusement. "And yet there are those such as Ronari who remember the day as clearly as yesterday. Six? I was fifteen and never had to work a ground crew. My parents made sure of that. A woodcrafter's means is only in the skill of his hands." The last carries in it a certain wryness. "I was hoping to find a candidate or two who might know of how to do it, but perhaps Graedin might be the best choice then."

Olwyn smiles apologetically. "Sorry, sir. But I can't see you sending out someone who was six on a groundcrew, and I'm sure that's how the Weyrleader at the time felt as well. I knew there was Thread, I knew my father went to fight it on his dragon, I knew my mother died of it when I was very small, but beyond that, I was just a child. I wasn't really affected by it."

Sheepish, E'tyn flushes quickly and casts a awkward look to Olwyn, just as apologetic as she is to him if not exacerbated by th sudden rise in color. "I didn't realize you were six at the time." Lemosian twang lays a subtle undertrack to his words. "Your mother died because of Thread?" This draws back the sidelong study, quick sympathy warming his gaze further.

"It's okay, sir. I don't expect you to be able to tell my exact age by looking at me," Olwyn says, trying to settle the man's embarrassment a bit. "And yeah, she or her dragon got scored really badly or something and died. I don't remember the details. I don't even remember her, it's really nothing spectacular. Lots of people have lost family in Thread that do remember and have been affected by it," she says easily.

"Still," E'tyn is all chagrin and apology still in the lashes that drop and the pull of a grimace on his mouth, "We have hides of candidates, where they've come from, age, skills, stuff, y'know?" The young Weyrleader glances at his hands dubiously, rather than cast that look to Olwyn. "It's different in a Hold or Craft. When someone dies there well, it's harder for someone to die of Threadfall than with dragonriders. I'm learning that. I've... learned that." A hard lesson no doubt. "In any case, I should be heading to bed. Don't stay up too late, Olwyn." A kind smile is flashed the young woman.

Olwyn shakes her head. "You've got more important things to do than to memorize a bunch of minutia about me, sir, especially with this rogue Thread. It's not a problem." She pauses, then notes, "I think it's different when you know the person at all. I don't remember my mother at all, so losing her is just a fact, not anything to be upset about. It might be more expected at a Weyr, but when it's someone you know...well, that makes a difference." The Weyrleader receives a parting smile and nod and a final reassurance from the candidate, "I won't, sir. Thank you."

Olwyn and Vylana

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:42:30 GMT

In from the weyr bowl comes Vylana, muttering and winging out her hair. For her this is a regular ritual that is the tail end of something called 'Persuade a green dragon to come OUT of the lake without resotring to physical violence.' It is a ritual she always loses, and concludes with her being liberally sprayed with lakewater. Hence her somewhat damp appearance. She appears to be hunting for a towel and a glass of something fermented "Sharding... always has to... not fragon... spawn of a fish..." Grumble grumble...

Vylana is not the only one coming into the living cavern rather wet. Olwyn enters, her long hair damp and pulled back into a braid, her face slightly pink from recent scrubbing. She comes from the inner caverns, however, as opposed to the bowl and appears quite cheerful as she heads for the serving tables for a drink of her own, a little more quietly than the greenrider.

With a muttering and grumbling Vylana serves herself a decent mugful of cider. She then looks up at the incoming and smiles wryly "Hello there. Would you care for cider since I am pouring..ah. I see." She then chuckles at the candidate knot "Best not to over indulge I suppose. Don't mind my mood. I've got a bad case of dragons."

Olwyn gives Vylana a sympathetic smile and shakes her head even as the greenrider discerns the answer for herself. "No thank you, ma'am. It's klah for me right now, I'm afraid." She pauses to pour herself a mug of the less volatile substance, then cocks her head at the other woman curiously. "A bad case of dragon/s/?" she asks, emphasizing the plural. "I don't think I've heard a rider complain of more than their own before."

Vylana sighs deeply "Well, you see, on their own they can be mischief. When they gang up on you to spray you with water then you simply can't win. I am sure Kelith only does it to be annoying. Every day. EVERY day she tries to soak me. I don't NEED that many baths!" She swigs cider and sighs again

Olwyn's eyebrows rise almost to her hairline then she shudders sympathetically. "Every day? Sheesh. At Ista, that would be annoying. Here, with how cold it gets in winter...," she trails off, shivering again at the thought. "Surely no one, human or dragon, needs to be that clean!"

Vylana smiles wryly "Kelith likes to be clean, and always is. it is her assumption that I need to be clean too that is vexing. And it is not so bad here in Winter. The lake all frozen up means we get to do it at Ista or Shipfish, more usually. At least then I am prepared. What objected to today was her saying 'Run! You make a harder target and I need more thread practice!'" She scowls "She is so going to geta rock on her couch. Except she's a dragon so she'd think it was a snack."

"If you can get dry before having to come back, that wouldn't be so bad in winter," Olwyn concedes. "I still think I'd prefer to take baths in my own time and choice. She must just love to tease you, as I don't see how splashing has quite the same mechanics as breathing fire." She sips at her cooling klah for a moment, then mischievously suggests, "I know my father's brown really likes to have a bit of sand or small rocks in his couch to rub against. If Kelith is like that, perhaps the cleanliness needs to extend to her couch too?"

Vylana laughs lightly "Oh it does. She's SO funny. I had to get her a broom! She holds it in her mouth and brushes the couch down every time before she sleeps. It's hysterical. Apparently I never did it properly. It never NEEDS sweeping down, but she's so picky. And she just does the dousing of me for mischief. Since the moment she hatched from her shell she's been determined to prank me. Others occasionally, but I get most of it. She is sometimes a bit TOO keen to be playful"

Olwyn stares at the greenrider for a moment in disbelief, then laughs and shakes her head. "Wow. That is really something else. I know dragons are all different, but yours sounds...very, very different. A dragon using a broom. Incredible." She pauses a moment, then gives the greenrider an appraising look. "You, ma'am, are to be commended for dealing with her. The only dragon I've known too well is my father's, and it sounds like he's downright solemn in comparison. I don't think I'd know what to do in your situation."

With a pull on her cider, VYlana shrugs and then relaxes more, though she still drips a little "After six turn I am rather used to her. But she WAS a real handful at first. She's tiny, smallest dragon at the weyr. She overcompensats by having her nose into EVERY nook and cranny of the place and tries to make sure everyone knows it. She isn't so much picky as fastidious. She hates to feel even slightly dirty. She's a terribly picky eater. You know, when she was a dragonet I had to use a NAPKIN to wipe her mouth. Have you EVER heard the like?" She then laughs, her annoyance forgotten "She's an absolute darling but I think she was meant to be born a Lady Holder and ended up in the wrong egg!"

If Olwyn could raise her eyebrows any farther, she would. "A /napkin/?" she says in amazement. "The weyrlingmasters usually have to warn inexperienced weyrlings that dragons get a bit enthusiastic with their raw meat meals, and you were having to use a napkin? That's...just incredible. She sounds like she's quite the character," she finishes, laughing herself.

Vylana beams "Well, if it ewasn't for the fact that rightnow she is pretending to be a shipfish...no wait.." her head cocks and she listens "No..she assures me she IS a shipfish. And peribanth is her prey. And he willbe...um... this doesn't translate very well. I think the best way to describe it is by saying 'dunked' but imagine a brown being sat on ... she'll never do it, he's way too big." She shakes her head at this "Just a perfectly normal day in the life I lead. But sure, some time soon you can meet her. Wear something waterproof."

Olwyn giggles again. "Well, I'd love to meet...your shipfish. I'll have to be sure to try to find the pair of you right after I've had firestone duty or something. Save myself an extra trip to the bathing caverns," she grins. "Are many greens this imaginative, or is it just yours? My father's brown really is downright boring in comparison, I think, though I suppose I don't know what he was like when they were younger."

Vylana frowns at this "I don't know to be honest. Kelith is unusually intelligent for a green." She looks about sheepishly "For the sake of the first egg don't tell anyone I said that. But I think because she is so small - I mean even other greens are a lot larger - she maybe makes up for it with intelligence, and that means playfulness when she isn't working. She wasn't the fastest at grasping her weyrling lessons but a lot of that was physical things and she was so small she took a lot longer to get going. But she is incredibly picky about dirt and rules. She's like an old auntie, always naging the other dragons to do things right. And when she is proddy..." She winces. "She's better being picky and a worrywort. After she has flown it takes me easily a sevenday to get my hair untangled"

"Your secret is safe with me," Olwyn promises solemnly. "The last thing I want to do is get into an argument with a proddy greenrider about how you are totally wrong, that Dragoneth, their dragon, is the smartest, fastest, bestest dragon in the whole Weyr!" she continues, her tone belying the seriousness of her expression and words. "That does make sense, though. I've heard of people who are blind who can hear or smell much better than the average person. Since she had to work so hard in some areas, maybe she was able to get some compensation for that in others?"

Vylana shrugs at this "Maybe so. Her memory is no better than any other drgaon. And her intelligence might not be higher, but her annoying others quota is perhaps overdone. You should hear her rant if she thinks Peribanth isn't pulling his weight. Not that this ever happens, I never saw a brown more determined to be absolutely the very best at everything!" She chuckles a little "I know sometimes D'rin wants a quiet life as much as I do. Some evenings the two of them grumble away at each other and sulk. You'd think that they couldn't stand one another, but Kelith won't let anyone else catch her. The relationships of dragons are as complex as any of our own...but more primal. I wonder if one day she'll turn around and chase him out of the weyr with her broom? If she does I don't think I'd stop laughing for the rest of the day."

Olwyn sighs a bit enviously. "It sounds absolutely fascinating, even if you do have to put up with getting soaked every day," she says, then sighs again. "I don't know that any of us are going to be getting any sort of quiet life, at least for a while. Have the riders been told anything about the rogue Thread that the rest of us haven't? Does anyone know what's going on?" she asks pleadingly.

Vylana smiles rather sympathetically "I am sure you know as much as we do. As yet we've not got much of an idea what is going on, and no clue at all about when it is likely to end. I know the Masterharper is driving his people to distraction trying to find anything in the records about it, and the Starsmiths are wearing out their eyes searching the skies for something that could help. I've asked the Harper if he can give us ANY news, but he hasn't even told me anything, and I am sure he would if he knew. We're very close."

Olwyn looks a bit disappointed that the greenrider doesn't know anymore than she does, but nods in understanding. "I suspected as much, but I can't help hoping someone out there knows what's happening and just thinks we candidates don't need to worry our little heads about it. Some people certainly seem to feel that way, but I'd much rather know what's happening so I can properly prepare for it, even if it is the worst case scenario."

Mahew seats himself by a hearth and pours himself a tall mug of klah.

Vylana chuckles and swigs more cider "In a sense they are right. Worrying about thread at the moment is the least of your problems. Even if you impress it will be a LONG time before you get near it, and by then hopefully it will have stopped falling out of the skies like unpredictable flurries of nastiness. Right now focus on doing your chores properly, obeying the people in charge of you, and preparing for the sands. We're all on edge with threadfall but ...well. It's not really going to be your problem for some time." She then adds sympathetically "You'll be all right. The last place you're at risk at the moment is in a weyr, after all!" And then she squeezes her soaked hair "I am off for a proper bath now. I'm Vylana by the way, lifemate to Kelith and weyrmate of D'rin and Peribanth. I am sure we'll talk again. Clear skies, young lady." And off she strides, her mood considerably lightened

Olwyn and Graedin

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:39:33 GMT

The inner caverns buzz with the activity of midday. Sounds of work come from every direction and there's a steady influx and outflow of people from the surrounding caves and outside. Joining the throng from the outside is Olwyn. Her clothing is usually faded, but today it is all dulled to a uniform dusty grey, covered with the dust that also streaks her face and hands. The teenager weaves her way through the other busy people on errands, slowly but unerringly making her way in the direction of the baths.

Graedin is headed in that direction as well, coming in from a side cavern. Here there is a difference: people actively avoid him after getting within stench range. He's utterly filthy and acctually looks vaguely nauseated at his own smell. He very nearly bumps into Olwyn on his way, "Woah, sorry about that..."

Olwyn catches a whiff of the odor and, almost without conscious thought, swerves away from it just in time to avoid being bumped by Graedin. At the apology, she glances at the man, then winces in sympathy. "That's okay. Latrines duty?" she asks sympathetically. Despite the sympathy, she takes the opportunity to move a step or two away as she continues inching towards the baths.

Olwyn pauses for a few moments, moves towards the baths herself, then pauses again at the entrance, giving her fellow candidate enough time to hopefully reach the water and divest himself of the first layer of stink. Finally she follows him in, brushing absently at her clothes in a fruitless effort to get rid of the dust. She glances around for her fellow candidate, and if the first layer of muck seems to have been removed, will slip into the water herself. "Ah, the joys of candidacy, right? I had latrines a few days ago. Always thrilling."

Graedin is at least working on the first layer, hip deep in water already and generous with the soap sand. "If I'd known it was all busy work like this, I'd've stayed with the miners. At least all they did was yell."

Olwyn begins her own scrubbing, concentrating on her filthy hands and then working her way up to her face and hair. "Busy work indeed. Ah well. It's only for a short time and they have to do something to keep us out of trouble, right? And after the Hatching, you'll be able to go back to being yelled at, one way or another. At least the Weyrlingmaster at Fort always seemed to yell," she muses.

Graedin ohs? "You're from Fort originally?" He splashes, rinsing off. "Seems like most everyone's weyrbred." He starts attacking himself again with the soapsand.

Olwyn takes a moment to duck her head and rinse, then begins to wash her long hair again. Judging by the visible cloud of dirt that floated away when she rinsed, it needs it. "I'm weyrbred, yes, but I'm actually from here. I was fostered out to family when I was young, got Searched for a clutch at Fort, and eventually made my way back here," she manages to give her life history in a single brief sentence. "How about you? I know you mine, but what were you doing here before you got Searched?" she asks curiously.

Graedin smiles wryly, bending back to rinse his hair without going under. "Surveying." His voice is a trifle loud, given that his ears are under water. "I'm from a small minehold near Crom. Grew up in the craft, but never anything official, you know? Just didn't have time. More important to get the firestone out." He lifts back up, wiping his eyes. "Then after the pass ended, we were too busy getting the hold in shape, so." He shrugs. "I was babysitting a couple of journeymen on survey. I doubt I'll be here after the hatching - We've found a likely sapphire mine to reopen, and I'm going to petition the Craft to allow me to run the minehold. Hopefully with the weyr's support. So," he shrugs, "I'm standing."

Olwyn nods in understanding. "That makes sense. So you decided to stand when asked as a political move?" she asks, considering. Then, before the man has a chance to answer, she thinks out loud, "That could work well. Gives you a chance to encounter people of rank here and have them have a reason to be sympathetic to you. Though the Weyrleader does seem fairly approachable anyway..."

Graedin starts nodding mid-way through. "The Weyrleader? Great guy. And one of the goldriders, Gay, is absolutely a trip. Nice person. There's a brownrider floating around who scares the life out of me. Not the weyrsecond, someone else. He was /friendly/, if you know what I mean." A faint grimace of distaste.

Nukath enters slowly, rolling his shoulders a ltitle before rubbign at one almost tiredly.

It takes the weyrbred girl a moment to figure out what the grimace means, then she laughs. "Just be glad he wasn't a greenrider whose dragon was glowing. Brownriders can be friendly. A proddy greenrider sometimes goes a bit beyond that," she advises, still giggling. She rinses her hair again, this time the water running clear, and then goes back to working on her hands. While mostly clean at this point, there's still grime stuck under her nails.
Nukath slips into an empty pool and leans back, letting the hot water soothe his muscles before he washes his hair.

Graedin admits, "A proddy /female/ greenrider wouldn't bother me." It's apparently the male part of this little equation that gives the big miner the willies. He ducks under to rinse again, emerging much cleaner, latrine stink now gone. As another person comes in, he peers through the steam and offers, "Afternoon."

Nukath looks over and smiles. "Heya Graedin." he grins some.

Graedin starts to respond to Nukath, and then grimaces as one of the other candidates comes looking for him. There's a hurried conference, something about a blocked privy, and he's off again, dressing hurriedly.

Nukath stretches in the water as he relaxes. He'd worked hard that day, deliverign mesages helpign lift things as well as helpign in the kitchens.

Nukath finishe sinm the pool then pulsl himself out before dryinf gimself off and dressign again. He waves once to the other occupant of the room before he leaves, inwardly wonderign what he will get told to do or asked to do next.

Olwyn waves to Graedin as he heads out. She quickly finishes her own washing, dries herself and puts her hair back in a braid, then moves for the inner cavern, waving a hand briefly at the other figure in the baths.

Searched!

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:34:42 GMT

Graedin is standing near the serving tables, a late lunch in his hands. He seems to be right at the end of a confrontation with an older man wearing a miner's journeyman knot. Confrontation might be a strong word. 'Dressing down' might fit better, for the journeyman is haranguing the younger mineholder while Graedin stands mute. "And another thing! What possessed you to go off on gemstones! And in front of that Reaches rider too! That's craft business and you need to keep your trap shut about it." Graedin merely waits, and when the journeyman huffs, "Aren't you going to say anything?", he laonically responds, "No." Robbed of a blowup, the journeyman stalks off towards the inner caverns.

Olwyn enters the living caverns and threads her way towards the serving table. She remains oblivious to the confrontation between Graedin and the other miner until she's almost there-then she stops, embarrassed by her intrusion on the two men. She glances around, looking for a way to retreat gracefully, but failing that, stands there pretending to not be able to hear a word being said while the dressing down is finished.

Coming up for lunch had seemed like a good idea at the time, but when Ronari come up almost on top of Graedin and another journeyman, she seriously considers just heading off to chores. But as the angry journeyman storms off, she's saved that unfortunate option and gratefully moves closer to the table. She grabs a heaping plate of food and a mug of redfruit juice. "Hello Graedin, what's up his trous?"

Graedin watches the journeyman retreat into the caverns, still mumbling imprecations under his breath. With a patient expression, he turns to Olwyn and offers, "My apologies for Eriand. He's... a bit excitable at times." He doesn't seem the least bit abashed from the scolding, and instead says, "I'm Graedin, since loudmouth there didn't shout my name to the caverns." A wry smirk, "He was content just with my shortcomings. - Oh, hey." A pause as he searches for the name. "Ronari, right? oh, the usual. My breathing."

Olwyn looks surprised when Graedin turns on her and rather than scolding, is quite friendly. She takes a moment to recover her aplomb, then says, "No, I apologize. I was caught up in my own thoughts and didn't mean to intrude. I'm Olwyn." In the whirlwind of activity so typical of the living caverns, a familiar face enters the picture and the nanny quickly adds a quick smile and nod to Ronari. "Hello," she adds as she moves to take a plate and much of her own.

"Hello Olwyn, good to see you again." She gestures to seats near the inner wall but waits for them to finish getting their food. Ronari shakes her head at Graedin. "Tsk tsk, your memory's going." She teases, "Though I'll admit it's been a while. So what kind of trouble did Shan get you in?"

Graedin moves out of he way, as his plate was already loaded when the 'interruption' occurred. "Well met, Olwyn - and nah, Ronari, I'm just naturally bad with names. Faces I can remember, but names? I should just call everyone 'Tom' or something and get it over with." As she mentions the Reaches greenrider, "Oh yeah, /that/ was the name. Right! Oh, nothing really. Just talking gems to her and another mineholder, and Eriand blew his top when he heard was all." He shrugs. "Not spilling any great craft secrets or anything, but he gets antsy when he's away from his wife and kids too long." He pauses, leans in to the two girls and murmurs, "Thinks she's stepping out on him." A one shouldered shrug comes after that, as he moves to a table with enough free chairs for them to join.

"It's nice to see you too, Ronari," Olwyn notes. "And nice to meet you, Graedin." She smiles as the man admits his own forgetfulness, which changes into surprise and a bit of consternation as she becomes privy to gossip. Finally, she settles into a neutral expression and gratefully makes her way towards the seats indicated and settles down into one of them.

"It's nice to see you too, Ronari," Olwyn notes. "And nice to meet you, Graedin." She smiles as the man admits his own forgetfulness, which changes into surprise and a bit of consternation as she becomes privy to gossip. Finally, she settles into a neutral expression and gratefully makes her way towards the seats indicated and settles down into one of them.

Seating herself next to Graedin and across from Olwyn, Ronari digs heartily into her midday meal. "Oh is that all? Here I thought it was something serious." She grins. "Although what prompted /that/ conversation I'm sure I don't know." She says good-naturedly, herself having no real interest in mining. "Did that man--his name escapes me--ever figure out a mineshaft vent that would work deep?"

Graedin mms, distracted for a moment from food. "That bronzerider? Like I remember his name. Used to be a Smith. Tall - fairly young." While he may not remember the name, he remembers just about everything else. "I haven't seen him again to ask. Been out in the field with the journeymen. Just came in the day the queen layed her eggs. There's a storm in the valley we're in right now, so we're waiting on it to pass before we head back out."

"That'd be St'vren," Tenli interjects, coming round the table. Balanced in one hand is a *full* mug of klah, the layer of milk in it floating in funny patterns on the top. It sloshes dangerously close to the edge as the greenrider arcs her back away from a passerby. "A right cutie, as are," the old woman spares Graedin a teasingly lascivious glance, "You. Afternoon all."

Olwyn begins to dig into her food with enthusiasm. If she's following the conversation at all, she makes no sign of it, but as she's keeping her mouth quite full of food, she has a polite reason not to join in. She just sits and listens for the moment, lunch being the priority, occasionally washed down with the juice from her mug.

"Oh well that would make sense." Ronari says, shaking her head. "But honestly I was so tired that night, I really didn't think it was Stav." She laughs, "Hello Tenli, how goes it?" Ronari asks, hoping she'd gotten the name right this time. She notices Olwyn's silence, but attributes it more to hunger than anything else so says nothing.

Graedin ohs, turning to Tenli, and nodding. "Yeah - I mean, yes ma'am! - That was the name. Thank you." At the cutie comment his lips twist and he ducks his head a bit. As the mug sloshes, he's up and gallantly offers out a chair for the older woman. "Careful there, young lady." Though clearly an 'aw shucks' kind of guy, he can join back in the teasing. "And while I'm up, can I get anyone anything? Olwyn? Ronari?"

"Pfft!" Tenli clucks her tongue and rolls her eyes in good-nature at Graedin's tease back, but she does end up in the seat, settling herself with minimal fidgeting. The dangerous mug of klah is set down and the greenrider stretches languidly. "Ah, a warm mug in me, and good company. It goes well, Ron-... ali?" While the candidate's naming of the greenrider is correct, there's a lilt of hesitancy when the favor is returned in kind. "Iridith's grousing about the lake and we just got back on our sweeps of the mountain wastelands 'tween here and Telgar Hold."

Olwyn is caught off-guard by Graedin's sudden request. She hastily swallows and shakes her head, adding, "No thanks, I'm fine," for good measure. The addition of the dragonrider is met with a respectful nod and a, "Afternoon, ma'am." The teasing between Tenli and the journeyman garner a brief smile from her before she digs back into her food, still not knowing the subjects or participants of the conversation well enough to join in.

Graedin mms at Tenli, even as he settles back in his seat. "So west of here. Any word in from the eastern sweepriders yet? We were wanting to head back to that site southeast in the valley soon. Word was there was a storm there, and we were stuck here for a few more days until some riders could be spared to take us, or to break through the trails." He hastens to add, "Not that I /mind/ being stuck here, but the journeymen are starting to get nasty."

Having made friends with quite a few dragonriders before even being Searched, it's a bit harder for Ronari sometimes to remember her manners in the 'sir' and 'ma'am' regard. But at Olwyn's use of the word, it comes back to her and she quickly covers a blush. "No thanks Graedin, and yes ma'am, that's me." She offers a bit of a rakish grin to the miner's apprentice. "Not unless you know of something to wash the taste of weyrdust from my mouth." Turning to Olwyn, she elaborates. "I've been on duty to clean the Guest Weyrs."

Tenli hums throatily, which turns into a cough and a blind reach for her klah. Sipping from the warmth and coughing again to clear her throat, the greenrider's eyes glaze in and out, thoughtful. "Hmmmm. Iridith says Dawnslight is on duty in that area, no one's come in yet, but guess you can wait around here iffn' you like, they're likely to come in for something warm to drink and a hearth to dry out by. And if they're nasty to ya, just be nasty back. I've found a spatula up side the head works quite well." Across the ways, the old woman flashes Olwyn a quick grin. "Afternoon, child. Your meal workin' out good for you?"

Graedin smirks a bit at Ronari, "Fraid not. Least it's not coal dust?" And then he nods, chuckling a bit to Tenli, "Wish I could. I thought this survey would be a lot more fun. Instead, I'm babysitting two journeymen who're really old enough to know better." Speaking of, there's the other of the pair, gesturing impatiently to Grae from the inner caverns. "Sorry, better go see what they want now. Well met," he nods to Olwyn and Tenli and grins at Ronari, "Catch you later." And he's off, dumping off his dirty lunch things as he goes.

Olwyn is quite willing to be drawn into the conversation when it's something she can actually expound upon. She wrinkles her nose in sympathy at Ronari's explanation. "Sounds...necessary, if less than pleasant. What did you do to get stuck with such a duty?" she asks teasingly. The elderly dragonrider gets a nod and a shy smile. "Yes, ma'am, it's quite good. The cooks here always do their duty well, in my opinion."

She waves goodbye to Graedin, a good-natured chuckle escaping her. This turns to a laugh when Olwyn asks what her crime was. "I got Searched." She says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I hear that's a crime worth banishment, but the people here are quite forgiving...mostly." She catches sight of a new arrival, but can't make out who it is through the crowd.

"No thanks to Pierron," Tenli notes aloud, bemusement coloring her cheeks as said man humphs. She lowers her voice in an attempt to be faux discrete and slips a wink to the girls at the table, "He's a fixture here, has exacting standards and I believe he'll outlive us all into the next Pass. Banishment?" The rider's eyes blink up at Ronari.

Olwyn is sitting at a table with Ronari and Tenli, helping herself quite enthusiastically to the midday meal. "Oh!" she says in surprise. "Well...congratulations. On not getting banished, that is," she adds, joining on on the joke. "Such exacting people always do. They can't stand the thought of other people doing their jobs wrong and so hold on to life endlessly. Right, ma'am?" the nanny begins in response to the greenrider, but by the end, has to anxiously make sure she didn't step over any boundaries with the elderly woman.

Up from the lower caverns, R'dur still has vaguely damp hair from a recent bath, and his cheeks are flushed with the bathing cavern's heat. In the comparatively cooler living cavern, this translates to a quick shiver, then a quest for something good and warm to fill himself with. The serving tables are eyed, picked over, but with a rather unhappy expression he ignores the food in favor of a mug of klah, not his usual drink choice at all, and then heads toward a seat, finding one near Olwyn, Ronari, and Tenli. He offers a distracted smile to them.

Ronari can't help but nod in return to Tenli's query. "Haven't you heard ma'am? It's a high crime now that the Interval's over." She leans back in her seat just as R'dur joins them. She nods greeting to him. "Isn't that right R'dur?" She asks, knowing that he probably has no idea what she's talking about. "There was a farmer like that my mother and I knew. Worked his fields until the day he died. I think he was into his eight decade then. Well into it."

"Oh, Pierron will definitely outlive all of us. He'll never be able to give up his iron fist of our kitchens and caverns." Pause. "Is it now?" Tenli doesn't seem to know whether to take Ronari's words at face value or as a joke. So, the elderly rider instead flags down the Weyrsecond. "Duties, sir! I nabbed one of your brood the other day."

Olwyn relaxes as Tenli agrees with her and doesn't take her to task for disrespect. Such relaxation doesn't last long, however, as the Weyrsecond ends up near them. "Sir," she greets him with a nod, entirely respectful, but with more than a hint of wariness about her thanks to his presence. While she seems to get Ronari's joke, she tries to rescue the greenrider now. "I think only some of the more ungrateful holders would say such a thing, Ronari. From my experience, candidates are usually quite welcome around a Weyr, even if they try to make you think otherwise with chores like cleaning the guest weyrs."

R'dur isn't paying much attention to the conversation, his hands wrapped around his drink as he sits; the sound of his name is all that alerts him to the fact that people are actually talking to him. "What? Oh, I'm sorry," he apologizes. "Did you need something?" A glance from Ronari to Olwyn and then Tenli, looking a little lost. Then: "My brood?" Somebody's not quite with it today.

Ronari nods to Olwyn in agreement. She has more to say about it--her most recent travels having painted a picture quite different from Olwyn's and most people's understanding. But R'dur seems a bit out of it today, and so Ronari had to quickly hide a bit of a snigger behind her hand, turning it tactfully into a cough. She thinks quickly, trying to remember who all had been Searched. "I hadn't heard of it. Unless Cyrra's one of yours, sir?" She remembers at the last second.

"Cyrra," Tenli promptly fills in the gap, "One of your nieces, I think? Or was I confused? Sometimes, my grandchildren say I do that, but I've all my senses about me. Iridith sees to that. Oh!" Easily distractible, or else it's the half mug of klah already in her belly, the greenrider catches sight of someone. Apology in her eyes casts about the table and her vacated seat is pointed out for R'dur's benefit, "I've got to catch up with my wingleader and give in a report. See you later."

"Cyrra, oh, that's right!" says R'dur, blushing. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. My neice, yes. She's my neice." He nods, as though to fix that thought in his mind today. "I knew she'd been searched but I didn't realize it was you, ma'am. But, ah. Oh. Yes, well, have a good day," he sends Tenli off with a half-smile, before he finally takes that sip of klah and glances back to the two girls. "So, ah. How are you?" he asks, still a little flushed.

As Olwyn catches up with the conversation and the mention of 'R'dur's brood,' she stiffens a bit. As an unfamiliar name is bandied about, however, she relaxes a little bit. "Congratulations on your niece, sir," she says formally. "I'm doing quite well, thank you." Still rather subdued, she gets back to the pleasant task of eating, though keeps her ears open for anything else that she might add to the conversation.

Ronari notes Olwyn's discomfort and leans close, whispering to her as she pours herself some more juice. "Don't worry. I don't think /Cyrra/ will attempt to beat the snot out of anyone." She winks to the nanny and turns back to R'dur. "I'm well enough, thanks. Though if I live past this afternoon it'll be a miracle."

"Thank you," R'dur tells Olwyn, with a small smile. "I'm very happy for her--both her parents are riders, and... Well, most of her family, as I understand it. I keep wondering if one of the dragons will show an interest in Jaethe or Tiriana, but not as yet, not even Alidaeth." He sounds a little wistful about this, but shrugs, then glances sideways at Ronari. With another sip of his klah, he seems more awake. "What's this afternoon?"

Olwyn's caught off guard by Ronari's whispered comment, but grins in complete understanding before returning her attention to R'dur. "I hope she has good luck on the sands," she says, tactfully not mentioning anything about Tiriana. "More weyr cleaning or some other nasty chore?" she goes on to ask Ronari about the upcoming killer afternoon.

"Latrine Duty." Ronari says with a shiver. "I thought when I left Igen that my bedpan days were over...guess not." She shakes herself and turns to R'dur, echoing Olwyn's wishes for Cyrra. "She's a sweet thing. I rather like her."

Sympathetically, R'dur offers Ronari a smile, nodding. "It's... not so bad? ... It's necessary, anyway," he amends. "There are, I'm sure, worse chores." He doesn't volunteer what those might be, however, and instead clears his throat and changes the subject. On Cyrra: "Yes, she is. She's... Well. She reminds me of myself? And Jaethe is very nice, too." He doesn't mention Tiriana, either, though it's a safe bet that his brief grimace is in relation to her.

Olwyn winces at Ronari's declaration. "Ouch. Good luck surviving that indeed. I have to deal with diapers and such in the nursery, but latrines duty...ewww. It's definitely a matter of scale." She raises an eyebrow at R'dur's vague suggestion that there might be worse things, but doesn't comment further except to murmur, "I don't believe I've met either Cyrra or Jaethe."

"It's doable...just not pleasant." Ronari agrees. "And yes, I'm certain the latrines will be worse than bedpans, but one does what one must." She says with a dramatized air of resignation. "I've met Cyrra a few times, and had a run-in with Tiriana, but I don't think I've met Jaethe..." She thinks for a minute. "No, I take that back, he was here with Stav warming up when I swung by between 'Reaches trips. I'dve thought he'd be one of the first Searched, sir."

"Cyrra is about your age," says R'dur, for Olwyn's benefit, "your size, with brown hair--very quiet. And Jaethe is a couple of turns younger than her--he falls between her and Tiriana." Pause. "You had a run-in with Tiriana. I'm sorry. She's--she's... I'm sorry." This, to Ronari, as R'dur just sighs, unsurprised by the news.

As R'dur apologizes for Tiriana, Olwyn relaxes back to how she was before the Weyrsecond joined the crowd. "Maybe she'll grow out of it?" she suggests, though without any real hope for such a thing in her voice. "Maybe you can find something to plug your nose up with. That might make things a little more bearable. Either that, or eventually you will become used to it-it's the first few minutes that are the worst," she tells Ronari, more helpful on this subject than that of R'dur's niece.

Ronari shrugs. "It's my own fault. I felt bad for the lad she'd just attacked and stepped in where I shouldn't have. She's quite a scrapper, your neice." She adds with a grin, no hard feelings here. However, as far as the latrines go..."I'm almost regretting this. Human waste is one thing I've never gotten used to." She takes a bite of tuber and follows it with a drink of juice. "Oh well, this too shall pass, and then I'll never mess with one again." She promises herself. To R'dur. "I understand the chores part of it, but are there classes or something I should be attending as well?"

"Once can hope," says R'dur, longsuffering. "Though, her father never did." He smiles tightly, then shakes his head, dismissing the subject of his errant niece. "Anyway. It's, ah. Well. I believe it becomes worth it, in the end, if you impress? Or... I impressed my first time standing, admittedly, but I think it's worth the experience even if one doesn't. And at least the chores rotate?" Pause. "Classes?" R'dur seems surprised by the idea. "No, nothing like that."

"Explains so much about her," Olwyn mutters under her breath, then considers the other topic of conversation for a long moment. "Once is definitely worth doing. Beyond that...it becomes stressful, I think. Some of the nastier chores, being pulled away from things that you might be better at and contribute more doing as well as enjoy more. So, enjoy it if it's your first time, Ronari, latrines and all. If it's not...well, you have my sympathies," she finishes thoughtfully.

"So there's no preparation for possible dragons? Just chores and the occaisional egg-touching?" Ronari asks incredulously. Why, she could have done all these things without the added pressure of the title Candidate! Oh well, such was life. "It is my first time. I'd never thought about it much really--beign Searched. I had too much to do as a kid to daydream much." She chickles to herself. "Which probably explains why I do so now, and usually in unfortunate moments."

"You've stood before?" asks R'dur, cocking his head curiously and glancing sideways at Olwyn. He glances back to Ronari, brows knitting, but he's silent for a moment on that venue.

"What preparation could there be, really?" Olwyn asks Ronari. "If you Impress, it's something that can't possibly be described or understood beforehand, and if you don't, well, any preparation that could have been made would prove to be a waste of time. It's only a short while, though, so you'll make it," she adds encouragingly. She hesitates a moment, then nods to the Weyrsecond. "I have, at Fort Weyr."

"I guess you're right. But it just seems, well not as bad as it's always been made out to be. I'd honestly expected grueling classes and long hours of work, kind of like apprenticeship at one of the Halls, but aside from the unpleasantness of some of the work, this is not really that bad."

"Oh," says R'dur, and leans back, quiet again, frowning. He looks between Olwyn and Ronari again, thoughtful, nodding absently a moment to the latter before he glances sideways again at the former. "Would you like to again?" he finally asks Olwyn. "Here?"

Olwyn shakes her head. "No, it's not like a candidate is a slave or something. You're kind of like a guest, but one that needs to be kept busy for a while before the big event," she suggests by way of analogy. The implication of R'dur's words don't hit her for a long moment. "What!" she finally blurts out, more an exclamation than a question. "I mean, sir, I'm honored, I just...I was done...I just hadn't thought I'd be doing something like that again," she finishes a bit lamely, honestly bewildered and taken off guard by the question.

Ronari is excited for her friend, and hopes that Olwyn will accept, but remembering her own struggle with accepting, she says nothing. She offers her friend a warm smile and squeeze her arm lightly before turning back to her lunch in silence.

"Oh," R'dur says again, leaning back, frown lingering at Olwyn's answer. He blushes slightly. "Well. You don't--you don't /have/ to, you know, if you don't want to. It won't hurt my feelings. Or Alidaeth's. Really."

Olwyn glances at Ronari at the squeeze, returning the other girl's smile, then nods at R'dur. "I know I don't have to," she says before falling into a long, thoughtful silence. A brief flurry of emotions crosses her face as she toys with the remainder of her lunch with her fork. "I guess I should have realized this was a possibility, huh? I mean, the Fortian adult dragons seemed to like me even if none of the dragonets did," she comments on her own lack of foresight.

Ronari chuckles softly at Olwyn's logic. Most dragons had liked her too. She hoped this wasn't an omen of some sort.

"I... can't speak for the Fortian dragons," confesses R'dur with a shrug. "I don't really know any of them. But Alidaeth tells me he'd like you to stand, so..." He offers her a small and hopeful smile.

"Well...," Olwyn hems for another moment. "Since I'd like to stay here, I suppose I should do my best to stay in Alidaeth's good graces. I suppose I can give it one more shot," she says slowly, hints of both reluctance and excitement warring in her voice. "Thank you, sir. I am honored," she says with more certainty in the act of being polite.

R'dur's smile broadens, relief and happiness evident there. "Oh, really? Thank you! I mean, wait. Congratulations. Yes, congratulations," he gets his words in order, blushing only a touch in his cheeks. "Would you--I mean, should I--the barracks? Would you like to see the barracks?"

Ronari beams up at the newest Candidate, quickly slurping up a bit of tuber still in her mouth. "Congratulations Olwyn!" She says earnestly if quietly. She scrapes the last bit of food from her plate and looks to R'dur. "I can take her to the barracks if you're busy, sir. I've got to back and feed TObi anyway."

Olwyn looks a bit unsettled as she chases the last of her food onto her fork and eats it, then downs the dregs of her juice. "Thank you, sir, I would," she says, then shakes her head as if to clear it. "Yes, I would like to see them. I've been spending so much time in the nursery I haven't fully re-explored the Weyr yet and don't know where they are." She pauses as Ronari makes her offer, waiting for the Weyrsecond to indicate who is to be her guide.

"Ah," says R'dur, glancing from Olwyn to Ronari. "Well. It's my job, really, so I shouldn't push it off on you, though thank you. You can walk with us, if you like?" He's already moving to stand, picking up his half-forgotten mug of klah for a last sip and a grimace as he realizes it's cold.

Finding this acceptable, Ronari rises as well and places her things on a nearby tray for the drudges to pick up later.

Olwyn gives Ronari a warm smile as a thank you for the girl's offer, then pushes back from the table to join the Weyrsecond as he stands. A quick shove puts her chair back under the table, puts her own dishes on the tray, then nods to R'dur. "I'm ready when you are, sir."

"This way, then," R'dur says, then, offering another smile, then turning to lead the way further into the caverns.

Candidate Barracks(#258RADHJL$)
This cavern has a rather low ceiling, with many openings for air, since this becomes an abode for a large number of people before every hatching. Every inch of the floor is kept clean, although little of it can be seen due to the many rows of cots that fill most of the space. The central part of the cavern is rather dim, as most of the glows are on the walls. Little decoration is evidenced except for a few personal effects. You wouldn't call it uncomfortable unless the unusually low ceiling for a weyr makes you claustrophobic. On the wall, scrupulously maintained, is a list of Candidates and their assigned chores for the day. Tampering with it is rumored to be an offense punishable by death or latrine duty for the rest of one's life.
The normal ruckus of the barracks is almost constant.

Leading the way through the caverns to the barracks, R'dur stops just inside the entrance and glances back at the girls following him. "These are the barracks, and you're welcome to whichever cot you'd like, of course. You remember the rules, don't you, from the last time you stood." Pause. "They have the same rules at Fort, yes?" he asks, biting his lower lip.

Olwyn follows the rider obediently through the caves to the one serving the candidates as home. She takes the room in at a glance, her eyes pausing here and there as she tries to ascertain which cots are taken and which are not. "Thank you, sir. I do remember the rules, but...I couldn't say if they're the same at both places. I've only ever stood at Fort," she says a bit apologetically.

"No drinking fighting or sex." Ronari sums it up nicely as she walks in behind Olwyn and scoops up her cat. "There's an empty cot here Olwyn, unless you fancy somewhere else." She gestures to the one neaest her own.

"Yes. Those," R'dur says, blushing and clearing his throat as Ronari spells the rules out for Olwyn. He offers a small smile, though, and nods. "We post chores here," he notes, gesturing to the board, "and... that's about it, I suppose. I don't think you'll have a problem, but if you have any questions or anything?" He glances expectantly to her.

"Ahhh, yes, that's pretty much the same, then," Olwyn says with a grin at Ronari's brief summarization. She considers for a moment, then shakes her head. "I can't think of anything right now, sir, unless there's something run drastically different here than at Fort."

"I doubt it," admits R'dur with a sheepish shrug. "I think these things are rather standardized. But if you can't, I think I'm going to slip out, and... Well. Probably, take a nap," he notes wryly of his earlier distracted state.

Ronari waves to R'dur. "Sleep well." She calls to him before sitting on her cot.

"Thanks again, sir. I think I'll go grab the rest of my stuff and get it moved in here," Olwyn says. "Enjoy your nap." To Ronari, she gives a bit of a wave and notes, "I'll be back soon."

Clutching

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:26:29 GMT

Galleries(#382RDJM$)
Stretching along the eastern wall of the hatching cavern, these tiers of seats have enough room for several hundred spectators for Clutchings and Hatchings. To one side, long shallow steps descend to the entrance. There is also a railing separating the lowest tier of seats from the Hatching Sands themselves. Other parts of the galleries are closed off from the sands by a wall to the north and south. From here you can reenter the bowl, or follow the pathway down to the Sands.
The afternoon is dark grey and overcast. A sleety mixture of rain and snow falls in heavy sheets. A light wind blows and the winter air is cold. The ground is icy beneath your feet.
Contents:

From the hatching sands, Though it's been turns, it's still a familiar scene--an experienced queen, well versed in The Way Clutchings Work, Daelyth is already out on the sands by the time anyone else arrives. She's pacing methodically, if laboriously, over the hot sands of the Weyr that is once again her home. She seems to be staking out her territory, laying out a plan for the event to come.

While Daelyth prowls, Niereth's arrival is a long beat later, coupled with the slightly agitated gait that brings E'tyn to the galleries. "Jays," he exhales under his breath, a heavy hand raking through his hair as he stops short at the top of the steps. A jostle from behind reminds him of the soon to be crowded state of the galleries, and quickly the young bronzerider clears himself a path towards a choice seat near the front.

Kailai slips in quietly, nodding to the rider who'd brought her with him when he told her to meet her later for a ride back. She takes the steps two at a time she takes a good look around, silent the whole time. The assistant scribe skirts a group of rather rowdy visitors and finds a seat with them in view. With a sketchpad and lead in hand to draw the scenes she sees she turns her attention to those around her as well as the sands below.

From the hatching sands, Daelyth has already made at least two circuits of the hatching grounds, and it does, in fact, look like she was formulating a plan. She's impatient about the whole thing, it's easy to read as she paces, but there's a pause and a tensing of muscles, then she rumbles with satisfaction at the first egg laid.

From the hatching sands,
Ring of Ice Egg--
This small egg is a beautiful shade of cerulean, evenly painted from apex to apex. It looks more like a giant child's marble lost out on the sands than a dragon egg, complete with a halo of pale white directly in the center of the shell. The aurora consists of three roughly concentric circles, the first only a hand's span across. The curve of the shell is such that the circles bulge inwards on one side, much like a ripple of ice in a clear pond. A wintry foil to the molten egg next to it, this ring of ice will be shattered only on hatching day.

Balinne is slower up those stairs. Perhapes it has something to do with the Istan's lack of a coat? She's shivering, and doesn't hesitate to find herself a seat as close to the warm sands as possible.

Graedin is one of the later arrivals, herded in with a group from the caverns. He's calling over his shoulder towards miners with journeymen knots, "Well, I want to see while we're here! Go get your own supplies." His tone is disgruntled, and he shoves his hands in his coat pockets, despite the warmth radiating from the sands. Those closest to him may hear him mutter something that sounds like 'tired of babysitting'. He's one of those near to jostling E'tyn from behind, and he mutters an apology, stopping midway through as Daelyth lays the first egg and gawking like the small hold man he is.

Olwyn enters the galleries slowly, hampered by the short strides of the children she accompanies, one attached to each hand. She assists the bundled up forms up the steps and then the trio take seats, at least for a moment. The younger child squirms for a moment, then climbs up into the nannie's lap for both a more comfortable seat and a better view.

Kailai scoots closer, peeking past E'tyn, then excusing herself as she takes a seat a tier in front of him and Graedin to get a better look, fingers flying as she captures the queen's posture in a rough outline, her, the egg, leaving small notes behind for a reminder about shading later, light enough that they wouldn't be noticed on the finished product. "Pretty! It looks like a glacier..." She murmurs as she draws. "Or a child's plaything, forgotten for games elsewhere."

While nerves unsettles the small smile on E'tyn's face, he does manage to deepen the expression for the Istan who seats herself close by. "Not from 'round here?" he queries of Balinne, a thick brow lifting as he notes the shivering. Having not noticed Graedin was one of those who jostled him, a scan of the galleries allows the Weyrleader a second opportunity to catch sight of the miner, to whom an easy wave is sent, the familiarity reflected in his eyes found also in the chin jerk of acknowledgement.

"You could've said something," Nimiriel mutters as she makes her way into the galleries and toward the stairs that lead to the sands. But, of course, she's ignored by the queen on the sands, and settles for just shaking her head, instead.

From the hatching sands, Snapping her jaws in annoyance at something said by the Weyrwoman, Daelyth continues on, then stops again only a few steps later. The next spot she chooses is a hollow made by one of her previous circuits of the sands. She turns, gently shoring up the base of sand around the egg, then moves on.

From the hatching sands,
Rainbow Night Egg--
Light, luminous and soft, shades dreamily from black to indigo into soft rose, sinking from the top half of this egg like a cloud. The bottom is a solid rim of black, which alters without warning into a clear pale green. The green sends shafts of lemon light up into the pink, the pink sends darkening tendrils and coils of lavender down into the green. Amid all these tenuous colors, flecks and streaks of white mark tiny spots, tears in the canvas.

Some minutes later, R'dur enters, looking his most chastened; he has in his company one Tiriana who looks rebelliously grumpy as she takes the steps two at a time and shortly abandons her uncle in favor of a group of weyrbrats. R'dur takes that opportunity to turn to the laundry woman just behind them, who points often toward Tiriana while R'dur offers his usual apologies in more copious numbers than usual until she finally stomps off and leaves him to sigh and rake a hand through his hair, and finally turn to glance at the eggs.

Balinne appears only slightly startled when she's addressed. She blinks, and then grins. "What gave it away?" she asks. "Istan's Duties," she fires off, landing a smart salute and still managing to huddle for warmth. "If I'd been smart, I would have remember that Telgar was cold!"

Graedin shuts his mouth with a snap, looking around and trying to recover his poise. He meant to do that, really. At E'tyn's wave, he brightens and makes his way behind Kailai, politely waiting for Nimiriel to proceed him. He nods to the unfamiliar Istan and then settles, asking E'tyn, "So is your bronze as nervous as human fathers get? Or is it all sort of routine?"

Having been lucky enough to slip in before the brunt of the crowd arrived, Jaethe has managed to claim a fairly good seat in the stands and is sitting, silent as ever, watching the progress of the clutching. Weyrbred as he may be, it never gets old seeing the new group of colored eggs that will, sometime down the road, hatch young dragons.

Kailai rolls her eyes, hearing the Istan comment. She chuckles to Balinne. "I'm from Fort, I know to bundle up." This is followed by a shyer expression as she turns to peer at the newest egg. "Fort's duties, Kailai, assistant scribe, though I really do prefer art." She adds, eyes flicking back to the sketchpad in front of her.

From the hatching sands, Though by now she's gained an audience both in the stands and on the sands, Daelyth ignores them all, even young Niereth, and simply carries on. It's not as if any of them can lay the eggs for her, after all. Wings flare halfway open, and when she moves, another egg has been laid.

From the hatching sands,
Galaxial Glories Egg--
Seen from the bottom, this egg is a beautifully brilliant shade of deepest purple, so dark it could be mistaken for black. This rich color swirls gracefully up the sides of the egg, until it is interrupted by a shimmering grey which surrounds the topmost part of the egg. From this silver cloud, two tendrils emerge, wrapping around the eggshell in a swirl pattern until they taper off to a conjoining point on the underside of this smallish egg.

E'tyn, after the wave to Graedin ends in his arm dropping to his side, considers Balinne a long moment and then turns to the sands as the snapping of the queen's jaws draws his attention to the second egg. "It's... lovely, hard to believe they made that." And by they, his helpless little gesture indicates the experienced queen and the less experienced bronze, who hovers overly while settled on back haunches, stretched forward with wings spread wide. "S'only his second time," he notes to Graedin, "And he can't right remember the first well enough to chalk it up to 'sperience." While he talks, the flight jacket he wears is shouldered off and waits in the air about Balinne's shoulders, a turn of his head questing for permission in dark eyes to drape it over the colder Istan.

Balinne's head swivles, and she grins over at Kailai. "Yea, well, I'm lucky I even /own/ a jacket in Ista...Oo, yes, thank you!" The jacket is happily recieved, and her shivering soon stops. "I suppose it's different if your lifemate takes part, but I never saw eggs as much more than, well, eggs. It's what they do." But she's good natured about it, and 'oooh's appropriately over the next newly laid ovoid.

Graedin ahs and nods, leaning forward to tap Jaethe on the shoulder. "Hey lad. Haven't seen you since we've been out at the camp. You all settled in and - shells! She's fair poppin' 'em out, ain't she! Wonder if it hurts? I mean like a baby does? Never seen a clutching b'fore." He slips a bit more into the backwoods Crom dialect as he gets distracted.

From the hatching sands, Lashing her tail, Daelyth's annoyance is focused on Niereth this time as she skids to a halt to avoid running into him. 'Move out of the way!' that snarky rumble surely must have said, and she detours only just enough to get to her next chosen spot that much more quickly.

From the hatching sands,
Eclipse of the Cookie Egg--
This egg is mostly round, mostly pale, and mostly non descript. It is, mostly, an egg. The creamy color of it is freckled with the shadows, created in whole by the rough texture of the shell. There is little deviation in the cream, and while the paleness of the egg is rather unusual, the shape and size are normal. Perhaps the one curious part would be the half-moon shaped black dot at the top, as if someone had taken a bite out of the egg, and shadow had been left behind.

From the hatching sands, Niereth's proud papa stance wilts at the rumble and down from his haunches he goes, following dutifully in Daelyth's wake, a good distance spaced between the pair as he waits for her to move on before nosing sand over the latest egg.

Jaethe looks up, startled at the tap on his shoulder. After a moment, however, he recognizes Graedin and offers the miner a slight grin, giving a nod in response to his question and managing to retain his characteristic silence all the while. At the bit about the "poppin' 'em out" though, his eyes go wide and he can't help but laugh, head bobbing. "Wouldn't know," he replies quietly, grinning.

Kailai cocks her head, trying to get a good angle before telling Graedin. "Well, this is them. I'm from Fort Weyr, so I get to see them when they happen. I was running an errand with F'ri and , a friend of mine, and he said that one was here, and that since he's originally from Telgar Weyr he had to come." She explains as she indicates the bronze and queen. "Quite the pair the two of them." She turns with a nod to E'tyn. "Sir, quite an interesting pair, do you mind if I make a sketch of that exchange?" Kailai's amusement slowly overcomes her shyness.

Olwyn's charges continue to wiggle as young children are wont to do. The nanny wraps her arms around the one in her lap and whispers something to the girl, settling her for a few moments, but the boy sitting next to her only gets more restless. He even starts to stand up in his seat, obscuring the view of the people behind him, only subsiding at a sharp look from the teenager tending him.
E'tyn settles his jacket over Balinne's shoulders, fussy a bit, in how he arranges it and then flashes the greenrider a quick, hesitant smile. "Telgar's duties," is his belated duty and introduction bit. Kailai is included in it with a glance down at the tier below him. "E'tyn, Niereth's. The dragon out there." When Kailai makes her offer, bovinish eyes blink twice, baffled. "Uh, I guess...? I guess I don't mind."

Nimiriel, at the top of the stairs rather than on the sands, glances over Graedin's way. "It's not the world's most comfortable thing," she comments, nodding toward the latest egg. "Not quite the same as having a baby, but it's similar enough. She's an old hand at this, though, so it's no surprise she'd be somewhat quick. And," she adds, with an apologetic smile for the Weyrleader, "somewhat...temperamental."

From the hatching sands, While Niereth pays attention to those eggs already laid, fussily and tenderly shoring up sand around their bases, Daelyth moves on, restless. A sidelong glance at the stands prompts a heavy sigh from the senior queen, but it's a momentary distraction before she gets back to business.

From the hatching sands,
Sunwriting Egg--
Across its creamy surface, red and blue flares radiate like sun's rays, bold and striking. The stripes of color wrap around the entire egg, making it stand out against the sands. Tiny lines and curves in buff and brown surround the rays, making a frame for their brightness. On one side, a queer ocher-yellow patch peeks out from behind a swath of red, while another, its other half, shows from behind a curve of red. Whatever mysterious tale it tells cannot be translated. Perhaps its inhabitant knows.

Balinne looks almost surprised at that introduction, and there's a hurried glance to his shoulder. "Weyrleader?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "Well, sorry my manners are a bit off. Cold and exhaustion do that to a person." She's soon grinning again, and leaning over to get a better look at the Sands.

Graedin ohs at Jaethe, and then as Nimiriel answers, he looks a bit sheepish. "Didn't mean no disrespect, ma'am. She does seem to be pretty quick about it, but it's the first clutching I've seen." He adds to Kailai, "I'm from Crom area. Small minehold. Babysitting some miners doing surveys. We're in for suppli - jays, there's another one."

Kailai nods curiously peering at the egg. "It... looks like a living flame, dancing to a Harper's beat at a gather! I was originally from the Tannercraft, but a family dispute landed me at Fort." She says simply, then lapses into that slow shyness again. "Lets just say life's never dull. And I've learned more there than I ever would have as a Tanner." she nods greatfully to that.

E'tyn's bafflement lingers as he watches Kailai and then leans forward to try and catch a glimpse of what she might sketch. A belated remembrance of his own manners brings him back fully into his seat, in time to catch some gist of Balinne's words. "No, no, don't worry. I mean, I... I mean," the bronzerider's collected appearance fades at the Istan greenrider's recognition of his knot. "Really, don't worry," he finally states, with a shy grin. Over Balinne's shoulder, E'tyn catches sight of Olwyn with her charges and a second later the apologetic look cast from Nimiriel. For his Weyrwoman, he presses a small salute, two fingers and a respectful tip of his head, to his forehead.

Caitlyn hurries in, quietly ascending the stairs, looking around for a spot to seat herself in the throng of humanity. Astute eyes pick out a friend, a known face, and Cait impels her short body towards Balinne and company.

From the hatching sands, So far, Daelyth has followed that plan that she'd been working on when she first arrived, but for those paying attention, she deviates from it this time, skipping ahead to get to that perfect spot for the next egg.

From the hatching sands,
Emerald Skyroads Egg--
At first glance, this egg appears to be white, but upon closer inspection is revealed to be an extremely light green which fades darker towards the bottom of the egg. Slung at a rather rakish angle is a belt of black, gold and silver that wraps around the middle of the egg. This is not a solid line, but rather is frayed at its edges, swirling and engulfing bits of the contrasting green. Shot through the center of the "belt" are bits of sparkle which nicely accentuate the black--though this egg is nowhere near as ravishing as some of the others.

Balinne grins good naturedly. Maybe she meant to throw him off? She tugs his jacket around her shoulders just a little more, and hmms. "Not worried," she supplies, her eyes on the eggs. "Just thought.. well, you look a bit young." And suddenly there is a Caitlyn! Balinne's eyes light up. "Hey! Got out of drills hm?"

Olwyn catches sight of the Weyrleader and bobs her head in a respectful nod of greeting. Then another egg is laid and her attention is drawn back to the sands. "Look at that one, isn't it pretty?" she asks her charges. The boy sitting unhappily next to her just dutifully nods, but the girl in her lap points to the greenish egg and squeals, "Pretty pretty egg!"

Kailai nods with her slow smile. "Really pretty! He must be proud Weyrleader!" She indicates the bronze. "he is young, but our leader M'yr isn't that old either." She points out to Balinne belatedly. "But then again, old is relative."

E'tyn is definitely thrown, moreso by what Balinne says next than her initial comments, and from Nimiriel, the bronzerider's attention drops swiftly to stare at the greenrider. Wide-eyed and is that just a hint of a blush on his ear tips? "Ah, well-, I guess that's because I am young." Not one to deny the obvious, the man tugs idly at his collar and turns to focus on something else: oh look, eggs.

From the hatching sands, Still fussing, Niereth turns his attention to the spectators and rumbles low in what can only be a warning. Daelyth pauses at that, turns a brief look and croon of approval to the young bronze, then gets right back to it.

From the hatching sands,
Lunar Explosion Egg--
Underneath all of the pizzazz of this large egg is a wash of royal blue which extends across the whole surface of the shell. What overlays this common color is, however, quite exciting. Concentrated at the round bottom of the egg, a gold explosion seems to have taken place. Shimmering gold swirls all along the bottom of the shell, a color which is continued in random fragments that become fewer and farther apart towards the top of the egg. Along this shimmering expanse of sunlight gold, tiny prisms are scattered, giving this egg a truly glamorized appearance.

Caitlyn murmurs polite pardons as she weaves through those already seated, finding a little room just a bench above Balinne, wriggling her rear onto it. The woman leans forward, grinning broadly to her friend. "Are you kidding? I just cracked the whip, and we got done before the usual time. I think I made a few enemies today - and Gus might be one of them." A soft giggle, and her ears pick up talk about the man next to Bali, and who he is. A respectful, but smirky salute is flipped to E'tyn. "Hello, Weyrleader - Ista's duties to Igen...and her currently busy queen." It's *always* fun to see people in positions of power squirm. A sudden intake of breath from Cait as she sees Niereth plop out that Lunar egg. "Jaaaays, that one is *beautiful*..."

From the hatching sands, Niereth's pleasure at the approval lifts his neck a bit higher, a sliver of his leonine pride returning as he tends to the eggs in Daelyth's wake.

The bright colors from the Lunar egg catch Kailai's ever perceptive eye, for she'd been about to say something else, when she points at it. "Look at that color! You'd be hard pressed to find that in a painter's box! I didn't even think I'd see that kind of color in my wildest dreams as an artist!" She says breathlessly.

Graedin was just opening his mouth to comment on the eggs still popping out fast and furious, when Niereth rumbles at the galleries. Mouth closes with an audible snap and he blinks at the pair. After a moment or two of silence, the irrepressible young man leans forward to Jaethe again and murmurs, "Was it something we said?"

Balinne looks amused. "Suppose you're right," she says after Kailai, shrugging. "Age doesn't speak for capability and," she twists around to smile at E'tyn, "You seem cabaple enough." And now she'll shut her mouth before she talks herself into a hole. "M'yr, hm?" she muses. "He was my Weyrsecond before he was your Weyrleader, did you know?" This is, of course, directed towards Kailai. And next she's poking at Caitlyn's knee and hissing, "Telgar. He's the Weyrleader of /Telgar/."

Caitlyn twitches. What the Shards was she thinking?! Must've been her brain getting mixed up with all the people talking, the cold of *between*, and the lure of watching those pretty eggs. "Oh shards! I'm sorry, Sir! Not thinking... Telgar, of *course*!"

From the hatching sands, As Daelyth continues on her circuit around the sands, she looks almost as if she'd be grumbling aloud, if only she could. Even so, even for those unfamiliar with her, it's not hard to tell that she's not terribly happy about this whole clutching business.

From the hatching sands,
Fractured Moon Egg--
Grey, irregularly striated with black and white, this egg is unassuming. Only a close observer can see the patterns covering the dull shell. Hand-sized circles dot the upper half, undulating ripples give the bottom the appearance of a long-dry riverbed, and a fine network of charcoal lines at the narrow end look like an especially intricate spinner web. A decisive white slash makes a check mark across the middle of the ovoid. The markings are intricate enough to seem textured; but the shell is smooth and warm to touch.

Jaethe, staying well out of conversation in favor of listening in and watching the clutching, just grins noncommittally to Graedin and shrugs his gangly shoulders. His expression says very clearly 'Don't ask me! I didn't say a thing.' and he snickers quietly, shaking his head.

The little girl Olwyn holds trembles at Niereth's rumble and hides her face, but the bolder boy next to the nanny continues to watch. "I like that egg better!" he declares as yet another one appears. "It's better than the one you girls like!" His voice drips with all the contempt that only a little boy can hold for girls and their cooties.

E'tyn doesn't speak, maybe he doesn't hear Caitlyn's faux pas until Balinne's hissed correction, but his ears speak volumes for him as they grow more and more red. A cough and a pat to his chest clears the cotton balls in his throat, his face casting about for somewhere else to look other than the two Istan riders, but glimpses of his face reveal a struggling attempt not to chuckle. "I, ah, I..." a pause results in a more collected exhalation that finally allows him to speak, "I think he's just showing off for Daelyth, Graedin."

Kailai looks at the unassuming egg, then back at the explosion egg. "Those two, as different as night and day." She points to it. "Probably, if the bronzes show off for a queen when she's rising it would stand to reason they might also if they were to catch her." Then the mention of flights at all makes the normally unassuming scribe slowly turn scarlet. Not due to Holderness, just her being shy little bookgrub all over.

"She's doing her fair share today, isn't she?" Balinne comments, shaking her head gently. "My my, if she keeps that up, she'll have a clutch to rival Ista's last! Fourteen eggs, in an /interval/ even." Ahh, memories. There's a little grin for Caitlyn, and she tips her head back to peer at her friend. "Must be the cold, hm? Not used to it."

From the hatching sands, Heaving a sigh, Daelyth stops for a little while to rest, crouching low to the hot sands, watching as Niereth tends to the part of the clutch already laid. Though the rest is short, it still seems beneficial, for there's a bounce in her step--and another egg left behind--as she moves away.

From the hatching sands,
Cat's-Eye Reflection Egg--
The first thing to draw attention when looking at this particular egg is the bright yellow that spirals in rings down the surface of the egg. These bands are particularly glaring, and at night appear to glow faintly. There is no sparkle to this particular egg at all, but underneath the rings of daffodil is something much more interesting. The rest of this egg is covered in a mottled mix of black brown and green, in a pattern that almost seems to rise off of the shell itself.

Caitlyn is rather a mirror, at the moment, for E'tyn - her face a bright red under her tan, fading quickly as she gets her wits about her again. It helps that the Telgari Weyrleader seems about to explode in shame for some reason, Cait reaching down to try and pat the poor guy on the shoulder. "Easy man, you're gonna go apoplectic on us..." A small throat-clearing at Balinne's words, and the bluerider nods. "Yeah...sharding cold."

Graedin quirks a faint smile at Jaethe, and then those miner's he's babysitting join him, and the trio are drawn into quiet conversation.

From the hatching sands, This time, when Niereth gets in Daelyth's way, she regards him with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. A short rumble later, she's the one to move around him this time--after all, it's every female's prerogative to change her mind about what she wants to do and where.

From the hatching sands,
Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg--
A myriad of jewel-like tones covers this ovoid. The density of the colors, and general shadowed look, suggests they were painted onto a black background. Greens and amethysts wash across the shell in a very smooth pattern, no hard lines or sharp curves to be found. Curiously, the colors seem to darken in tone and pigment towards the top until they disappear into the night-like blackness at the crown. If one looked close enough, they might see tiny sparkling stars, barely visible within the gemstone colors.

"Aye," E'tyn is quick to agree with Kailai's appraisal of dragons and showing off. That is, until the hand falls to his shoulder and there's a slight stiffening to his back. The red hasn't receded yet, but after a beat, the young man's shoulders sink into relaxation. "How have things been at Ista?"

From the hatching sands, And, now that the bronze is out of the way, Daelyth goes *back* to that spot she was trying to get to before, and another egg is laid.

From the hatching sands,
Ring of Fire Egg--
Carnelian fire wraps this egg in bright splendor, the colors rivaling a Neratian sunset. The egg is easily one of the largest in the clutch, though it would stand out by color alone. The crimson flares inward, licking orange tongues towards a golden ring of fire at the very center of the egg. Inside that ring is a darker oval of black - an onyx in an unusual setting. At the center of this darkness, still another pinpoint of pure golden light as a trap to draw in the unwary. Were it not for its size, it might be mistaken for a lava rock, turned cherry and molten by the fires in the center of Pern, shot out of a pimple in the earth onto the volcanic sands of the weyr.

Balinne's nose wrinkles as another egg is clutched, and she takes a quick tally on her fingers. "Ista?" she questions, glancing toward E'tyn reflexively. "Busy. For me, at least. I've got the newest bunch of Weyrlings to help train. Scary, really."

Caitlyn smiles down at poor E'tyn, giving the man a break form the teasing, nodding as Balinne answers the basics. "Bali was nutty enough to volunteer to train those ingrates. I ran away from the offer." A small snicker. "I'm about as overwhelmed in work as she is." Another tiny gasp from the bluerider as Daelyth produces the 'Midnight' egg - and Cait's face goes all melty. "Oooh...that's a beautiful mine of emeralds and amethysts, Bali! *I* want it!"

Kailai gives a squeak. "That one's pretty! look at it! It could be everything that's red and firey on Pern and rolled into one They're so colorful! Look at them all!" She exclaims, awed. "I don't think I've ever seen egg colors this bright! This clutch will make some painting!"

From the hatching sands, Daelyth lapses back into her old habits again, though she's a lot slower now than she was when she first arrived on the scene. Carefully, she sidles up close to an egg already warming on the hot sands to leave behind another, companionably close.

From the hatching sands,
Nebulous Clouds Egg--
Black, blacker, blackest-the darkness of *between* shrouds this egg with a veil of mystery. The field of velvety black is not left to itself, however, but is broken up with countless small speckles of white. Interspersed among and over many of these speckles are larger spots of blue, gold, and pink. Nearly centered between the two ends of the egg is a wispy shape made up of matching blues, pinks, and a bit of gold. The form is evocative, if vague. Is it a fancy hat? A dragon? A wherry? It's anyone's guess.

Balinne just snorts, but nods her head. "It's true," she confesses. "But they're coming along well." This seems to be for Caitlyn's benefite. She's lost in the new egg when squeals from behind catch her attention. She winces, and turns to find the Fortian. "Jays, don't they have eggs at Fort? I'm sure there's been one similiar."

Enlightened, though it takes a long moment, E'tyn swivels his gaze from Balinne to Caitlyn and back again. "Oh. Ooh, congratulations. I didn't realize you were helping with the weyrlings, it must be... fulfilling." Bright eyes turn to the greenrider in interest and he lowers his head, as if imparting confidential information, "If Niereth hadn't caught Soraeth, I... I wanted to offer my services to the Telgar weyrlingmaster, but," a shrug, alas. "I hope you enjoy the clutching." The young Weyrleader gets to his feet and tips his head gently to the two Istan riders, "I see a familiar face I should go greet."

Kailai nods. "Oh its a Weyr, there are always eggs, but i don't think I've seen brighter ones!" She exclaims, then flushes crimson red this time. "I mean, they are eggs, but they're so pretty and colorful and cute! Aren't they?" And redder. "Umm... right, similar ones." And she squeaks into a shy, beet colored silence.

Caitlyn just peers at E'tyn, as though, for the life of her, she can't figure out *why* anyone would want to volunteer to deal with crazy Weyrlings. "I guess it's a job for a certain kind of person... Oh, good day then, Weyrleader!" Cit adds quickly as the man excuses himself.

From the hatching sands, Leaving Niereth to warn away the spectators in the stands once more, Daelyth turns her back to the watchers, as much as she's able. This time, when her wings spread, it's in an attempt at modesty for her latest egg.

From the hatching sands,
Rosetta Evening Egg--
A red so pale as to be almost pink, that would accurately describe the base color for this egg. Shot through at seemingly random intervals are veins of a quite shocking red. These lines, of varying thickness and curve, seem to form the picture of rose petals curling up in the prime of blossom. On the crest of the egg, it seems that bits of the sandstone had clustered there--for all that it sparkled. These shimmers travel down the sides of the egg, following along the lines of crimson, becoming more and more fine the further down they go.
Balinne just shakes her head. To E'tyn, she 'Ahh's, and says quietly, "Well, you can always get involved as the Weyrleader," she notes helpfully. "Good luck, Weyrleader!" is her fair-well call. "Oh! Do you want your jacket?" and she shrugs a little, as if offering it back.

"Keep it," E'tyn calls over, easier in stature and voice once he's a few steps away. A shy smile even surfaces, curving crookedly across his mouth. "You can leave it with Pierron in the living caverns later, when you're ready to leave." Another smile, another nod, and the bronzerider treks across to where a nanny sits with her charges. "Olwyn," greets the Weyrleader, "I wanted to... I wanted to apologize for running out the other night."

From the hatching sands, Crouched low in the sands, Daelyth's eyes are halfway lidded, as if she has already started to nap after expending so much energy. Just when it seems like she might drift off, a slight ripple of golden hide announces yet one more.

From the hatching sands,
Brilliance in Numbers Egg--
Three bright points on the smooth surface of this egg cast a warm light across the wide bottom of the shell, turning nebulous cloud shapes into luminous eddies of peach and aurora rose. The blue-white fire that lends those colors to the base, also sets these light points off against the midnight sky that curves over the thinner top and then falls to mingle with the ebb and flow of the lower clouds. Massive in size, it is perched with an odd delicate touch on a tiny mound of sand, rather than buried like many of its companions.

From the hatching sands, That one truly is the last, it appears--though she makes one last circuit of the sands, pausing to croon warmly at Niereth once or twice, and shore up the base around an egg or two--she finds a large expanse of empty sand and curls up in it, eyes whirling pleasantly as she regards their clutch.

Kailai chuckles and finishes her last sketch with a flourish. "That's all she wrote." A sort of nerdy looking bluerider taps her on the shoulder and whispers in her ear. "Okay F'ri, meet you down there in a bit." She nods as she stands, stretching. Then to Graedin. "You should see it when there's a hatching, if you're watching a hatching anywhere you'll have aching buns by the time its done, even if they are fun to watch."

Olwyn continues to sporadically gently discipline her charges, keeping them from disturbing those surrounding them too much. When E'tyn approaches, she nods respectfully to him again, and after a bit of prompting, the children chime in with, "Greetings, sir." "Hello, sir," Olwyn says herself. "Think nothing of it. I know you have many duties. You spent too much time with me as it was."

Caitlyn peers about the Sands, when it's clear Daelyth is done, ticking the egg count off on her fingers. "Fourteen, just like Ista. Nice size clutch - and they're rather prettier than our last, in my opinion," she murmurs to Balinne.
"Well," says Nimiriel, as Daelyth settles in, "looks like that's it. Lovely, as always..." The comments are addressed to her lifemate, it seems, and now, she starts down the stairs to the sands and the dragons resting there.

Balinne just shrugs, and pulls the jacket around her more fully. "Fourteen, you said?" she questions, squinting toward the clutch. "Shards. Maybe it's something in the air, hm? Fourteen and a gold with us, Fourteen here, and High Reaches had a gold last cycle too! You'd think it was a Pass." She rolls her eyes, but doesn't seem ready to leave the warmth of the Hatching Cavern. "Ours were pretty! Just... in a more.. un... OK, not as pretty."

Out of the corner of his eyes, the bronzerider keeps a glance out for the two Istans, a more bemused smile surfacing as he watches their interactions, particularly when Caitlyn expresses a desire for one of the eggs. Nimiriel's movements also elicit a glance from E'tyn before he returns to Olwyn and takes a seat in front of the nanny and the children she minds, pivoting so he can flash a half-smile upward at the trio. "Niereth reminded me of visitors I had coming in for dinner and, I... I can barely keep track of my life let alone everything that happens to it," as if Weyrleaderly duties are just instances that happen, rather than scheduled and planned. "Niereth's much better with that kind of stuff. Funny enough." The young man leans in to the young girl, his smile growing to crease his eye corners, "Did you enjoy it?"

Olwyn blinks in surprise at the confession from the bronzerider. "I'm sure you do just fine with your duties," she declares loyally. The little girl in her lap regards E'tyn with wide eyes for a long moment as she sucks at her woolen mitten, then says quietly, "Yes. The mommy dragon made lots of pretty eggs."

Olwyn's staunchness causes E'tyn to cut his gaze from the little girl to the nanny for a moment, surprise suspended on his craggy features. Then, upon returning to the little girl, the surprise lingers in the crinkle of his eyes and the half-shy smile that hovers. "I think she laid some beautiful eggs too. They're going to grow hard out there and one day they'll hatch into some beautiful dragons too, we hope." A fond look flickers back to the sands where Nimiriel and the two dragons are now and a silent count begins in his head. "Fourteen, I think." A large hand reaches out to pat the little girl's knee solemnly before Olwyn reclaims his dark klah gaze. "Thank you. I mean, for you know, thanks. I hope you have a good day and this hasn't gotten some of your children," a quick look for the boy, "Overly exciteable."

Balinne finally seems to tire of staring at the cutch - or perhapes she's due back? Either way, the Istan greenrider stands. "I'm heading back. There's bound to be some weyrling trying to choke on something, and if I don't get back, Fadra will tan my hide."

Kailai stands, "Excuse me, I told F'ri just a moment, he has to get home and so do I." She says as she tucks her sketchpad under one arm. "Weyrleader, I could send you some sketches from the clutching if you'd like. A friend of mine has a firelizard she lets me borrow for letters.

"Don't you mean some Weyrling you want to choke?" Caitlyn snorts back to Balinne with droll humor, then standing up with her friend. "Yeah, me too - there's a few hides I need to give the eye to on my desk. Shaffit all."

Balinne grins as she heads for the doorway. "You know, Caitlyn, you accepted that knot... really can't complain." And then, before any stray hands can come out and swat at her head, the greenrider takes off, skipping out to the bowl and her waiting dragon.

Caitlyn sticks her tongue out at Balinne, raising a hand as if to clout the greenrider, chasing her outside.

The little girl beams at the Weyrleader. "I want to see! Will I get to see the eggs become dragons?" she asks both adults pleadingly. Olwyn absently notes, "I'm sure you will," at the same time she tries to process E'tyn's words and grab the boy beside her before he fidgets right off the edge of the seat. "It's a fine clutch," she says finally, redirecting her attention to the bronzerider once the boy's butt is firmly planted on stone again. "And they'll be fine. It was good for them to be able to get out to see it."

"Good," a splendid little smile forges past E'tyn's shyness and slowly, as the galleries begin to dissipate in numbers, he gets to his feet. "I'll be seeing you around, and...," he looks down to the girl and leans to tousle her hair with gentle affection, "I'll make sure you get to see the eggs turn into dragons. Promise. Have good day." Spoken to the girl, meant for the trio, each person in turn catches a bit of his smile until Kailai approaches and a sudden shift brings her into the fold of that look as well. "I... sure. Whenever you want to bring the sketch around that'd be nice. Good afternoon to you too," he adds, before turning to exit.

Olwyn whispers another prompt to the little girl, who obediently says, "Thank you, Weyrleader!" "Have a good day, sir," the nanny calls after the bronzerider. She and her charges take one last look at the eggs, then the little girl is set on her feet, the boy is dragged from his position on the bench, and the teenager begins herding the pair back to the nursery, their adventure done for the day.

Olwyn and Rilkie

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:06:39 GMT

Telgar Weyr Nursery(#14781RAL)
Down at the far end of the living caverns lies this large cavern used by the Weyr's children and their nannies. The stone floor has been worm smooth by the footsetps of generations of young children, many long gone. The area is far from the bustle and clatter of the main caverns, yets radiates the noise of young bodies and their keepers. Many glows light the room, scaring off monsters and giving it a cozy atmosphere.
One side of the cavern serves as the day nursery; filled with child-sized furniture and the usual story hides and toys. Dedicated nannies can always be seen milling around, working with their youthful charges. Young artists have obviously been at work here, the stone walls a myriad of bright and beautiful colors. There are vividly hues rugs over the floor in a rather successful attempt to make the room a cheery place.
The other side of the cavern is quieter, filled with cots belonging to those children who do not go back to their parents when duties are done. In the middle of the section is a large desk for the nanny on duty, with a grand hearth behind it to keep the immense cavern warm even in the coldest of winters. The sound of steady breathing filters this area almost constantly, making it a rather peaceful place to spend time in.
A long passage at one end leads back to the inner caverns.

It's late evening at Telgar Weyr and the hustle and bustle of day is beginning to slow as early risers settle into bed. In the nursery, it's quiet as the children who spend their nights there are tucked into their beds for sleep. At the desk for the nanny on duty sits Olwyn near a basket of dim glows. She peers without much interest at some hides in front of her, spending more time gazing over her sleeping charges with contentment than reading.

Rilkie enters a bit shyly, peering about the room, cautiously entering as quietly as possible, knowing that the children should be asleep by this time. Noting Olwyn at the desk, she walks towards her, nearly on tiptoe, with a smile on her face. "Oh, hello," she says. "I've, ah, offered my services in the nursery while I'm here, and though I figured they'd be asleep by now, I thought I'd drop by just to make sure there's nothing I can help with." She looks a bit uncomfortable, wodnering if she's been correct in dropping by at the late hour.

Olwyn continues looking from hides to children and back again. It's during one of her appraisals of the room that Rilkie enters. Olwyn's gaze stops its roaming and she watches the other girl expectantly as she's approached. "Hi!" she says quietly. "That was nice of you. I think things are under control here for now, but you should come back in the morning. We'll definitely need you then." She pauses a moment, her brow furrowing a bit, then adds, "Wait a minute, haven't we met before?"

Rilkie nods. "Sure thing," she says, her voice also quiet. "I think so," she admits, also trying to place the face. "You were contemplating coming to work here, and I was assuring you it was a good place to be. I'm from Ista, if you don't recall, and I work in the nursery there." She looks around at the peacefully sleeping children, and remarks, "You certainly must be doing well!"

Olwyn's face clears as she places Rilkie. "That's right, I ran into you when I first got here. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name, so much has been going on. I'm Olwyn," she introduces herself in case she hadn't before. She looks at the kids in their cots and stifles a laugh. "I'm just lucky that the evening nannies got them settled before I came on duty tonight. We'll see how long this lasts until someone has a nightmare or something. What brings you back to Telgar?"

Rilkie gives an understanding smile. "I remember," she says, "But then, I'm good with names. I'm Rilkie, and I suppose simple boredom brought me back... offered the ride, and I'm not one to turn down a trip here or there. Plus, the folk here have all been nice, and though it's cold, the klah and hearth are always warm!"

"Oh, yes, you said you like to travel and explore different places, don't you?" Olwyn says, her memory of their previous encounter appearing to return to her. "I'm glad you came back. We can always use more help here in the nursery. We've got some pretty wild children here. Is that not the case at Ista, that they can spare you for a few days?" she asks curiously. "I thought it was the lack of parental supervision that caused at least some of our problems, but if things aren't the same there...," she trails off thoughtfully.

Rilkie smiles at Olwyn's recollection of their encoutner, then proceeds to nod eagerly. "Ista has it's own share of rambunctuous little ones, but we're fairly well staffed, enough for me to gallavant off like this. I could certainly stay for a few days." She looks at the sleeping children thoughtfully, as if imagining them during the day time in quite a different mode. "Parental supervision is one thing, but it's also partially just giving them something to do. I could teach you some of the games we play at Ista, perhaps? Even giving them chores, making them feel useful, keeps them quiet at times."

"That will certainly be helpful," Olwyn says, then considers the other girl's words. "We actually do those things, but I, for one, would like to learn your games. Something different can always be a nice diversion for the children. Perhaps our problem is simply being understaffed, then. There's always so much to do and some that are always pushing their limits that they've tended to get away with a lot of things simply because no one has had the time to deal with them properly. Plus...we've got a few that are just brats," she admits sheepishly after a moment.

Rilkie can't help but laugh at the last. "Oh, that's always the case. And they grow out of it... mst of the time." She thinks. "Some of our games are very Istan... by which I mean they require sand. But many of them aren't, or we could adapt them somehow. And being understaffed is always going to make it harder. Just having one on one attention is important to the children, and it's impossible when there aren't enough people looking after them for that."

One of the younger children stirs for a moment, whimpering. Olwyn holds up a hand for quiet, listening and poised, ready to go to the child if necessary. Fortunately, after a bit of tossing, the boy settles back down into a deeper sleep. "I hope that'll be the case here," she continues more quietly. "The Weyr-someone I've met here seems to have his doubts about some of them, but I'm not entirely sure why yet." She considers for a moment, then offers, "I'd need to know what kind of games, of course, but could some of them maybe be modified to work with snow? We get some pretty powdery stuff sometimes."

Rilkie seems to like this idea. "I think some of them would work well with snow! A lot of them just involve drawing lines in the sand, and we could do so in the snow, or play them indoors and use bits of string." She watches the sleeping child, smiling as he settles back to dreamland. "Do they stay indoors quite a bit? That might be one reason they're handfulls here more than at Ista, when they can run around outside whenever they please."

"Oh, yeah, I think we could definitely come up with a way to modify games like that to work here," Olwyn says enthusiastically. "It depends on the weather and the child. Most of the older ones get to go out on a regular basis when it's warm enough, but there are a lot that are simply too young. Even bundled up, they're so little, they get cold after a few minutes. And I've been warned it's probably only going to get worse as winter grows colder," she sighs.

Rilkie nods in agreement. "We could take them all a-dragonback on a fieldtrip?" She offers, joking. "Really, though, what if we find a rarely-used cavern and clear it of furniture for a while? Let them run around indoors, but give them room." Her brain is turning now, happily trying to think of ideas for the children of Telgar, and enthusiasm shows on her face, though her voice is kept at a low level, careful not to let it get louder.

Olwyn starts to nod, then catches herself. "Those are all really good ideas, but I'm really not in a position to say yes or not. I'm just a very junior assistant here. You'll definitely have to talk to the nursery head tomorrow, though, and maybe the assistant headwoman. Someone who could decide if we can do it or not. That could definitely help, I think, especially if they were allowed to run for a while. Kids have so much energy."

Rilkie nods. "Of course, but we can always go and talk to the right people. It's good just to come up with ideas, then think about the details later..." Changing the subject, she asks, "So, are you glad you've stayed on at Telgar, then?"

Olwyn nods, then gives Rilkie a wry grin. "I think I might have to leave it to you, though. I'm going to be dead in the morning after pulling the night shift and I doubt I'll be good for anything beyond collapsing into bed." She stands and beckons Rilkie to follow her as she begins to walk from cot to cot, making sure that everything is alright with all the kids from a closer viewpoint. "I am glad, though adjusting to the cold has been tougher than I thought. I didn't remember how bad it was. I was probably kept bundled up inside most of the time when I was little," she says thoughtfully.

Rilkie laughs softly, carefully, as she follows Olwyn around the room, glancing at each child in turn as Olwyn does. "I'll do so, then," she says in a whisper. "I'm usually pretty bold about talking in people in charge, anyway, so I don't mind!" She catches a draught and shivers, just as she's about to agree with Olwyn on the cold. "You could say that again. I don't think I'm built for such weather. Going to have to check in Stores for some things to borrow if I'm to stay a few more days."

Olwyn completes her round without incident, pausing to pull a blanket higher up over a child here or restore a dangling foot under the covers there. Once it's apparent that all are fine and still sleeping, she heads back for the desk. "You'll probably do better than me there," she admits. "At least some of the leaders here seem pretty open and willing to talk, but it always makes me really nervous." She stops for a moment, then asks curiously, "It was pretty cold last time you were here. Didn't you know it would still be that way?"

Rilkie has followed Olwyn about the room, smiling at her tenderness as she recovers the sleeping child. At her words, nods. "Of course, I just don't /own/ any of the proper clothing! I brought the closest things I had, but they're still not as adaquite as I would like." She gestures to the thin sweater she's wearing, just enough to be /called/ a sweater. "It cools in the evenings at Ista, but nothing like this. As for speaking to leaders, I think that's quite normal. Maybe I'm just brash or foolish enough to not be nervous. It's not always a good thing."

Olwyn settles back at the desk. "I've never lived somewhere as warm as Ista. It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't have cold weather clothing," she admits sheepishly. "Hopefully they'll have something for you in stores so that you don't freeze while you're here." She stifles a yawn, then says, "I'm sorry, but I better finish going through these hides before I get any more tired. I suspect I'm going to get to the point where I can comfort a crying child but not make any sense of the words on the page."

RilkieShe pulls the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, then folds her arms to her chest, smiling. "I understand. I was just thinking myself that I should get a cup of klah before my arms freeze off. I'm getting tired myself, too. Perhaps that cup of klah, then bed, for me. Good luck with the rest of your shift-- it's hard being the night watchwoman!"

Olwyn, E'tyn, and Tiriana

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 18:53:42 GMT

Dinner hour's arrived and the living caverns is a bustle of constant activity, people getting in line for food, people getting food, people replenishing food, and yet others loitering. E'tyn is midst those loiterers, standing in the tunnel, probably getting in people's way, as he observes the hubbub of people moving about with a certain satisfaction in his warm eyes. With hands clasped behind his back, a nod every so often is pretty much the extent of his movements with the exception of being jostled on both sides by the stream of people.

Olwyn is among the stream of people entering the busy cavern after a long day. Her tunic is stained with the remnants of whatever disaster befell the nursery that day and bits of hair float loose from the braid she's used to pull it back. She does her best to avoid jostling into anyone, but a chance misstep combined with a collision with a burly rider nearly sends her sailing into E'tyn. She manages to catch her balance before hitting the bronzerider, however, and gulps out an embarrassed, "Excuse me, sir, sorry."

Clasped hands part quickly and instinctively E'tyn holds out his arms to brace Olwyn should the girl fall, but when she fails to keeps them hanging mid-air; just in case. Recognition lights his eyes as he ducks his chin to get a better look at the nanny, and soon thereafter a smile flickers into view. "Olwyn, wasn't it?" At ease, for once, the young bronzerider lowers one arm and keeps one up in invitation. "I was thinking of a bite myself, but the number of people...," sounding helpless, he gazes upon the throng, "You'd think they hadn't been fed in months the way they're clambering."

When the Weyrleader addresses her despite her near faux pax, Olwyn flushes with further humiliation, but valiantly strives to uphold politeness and speak in return. "Yes, sir. You must have a good memory." She follows his gaze just in time to catch sight of a couple of youngsters ducking under arms and running in the direction of the tables. "Faris! Chantrir! Walk, please," she automatically scolds the boys despite them not being in her charge at the moment. They guiltily slow, at least for the moment. "They seem to think they haven't been fed in turns, not months, the way some of them act at every meal," she says with a sigh.

E'tyn's raised arm is enough for people to make a little bit of a berth around the bronzerider and the teenager he speaks to, and gamely, though he attempts to ignore them, the notice garners a pink color to his ear tips. "How about we find a seat in this and try to find some food? If there's anything left." However dire that last might sound, there's a glimmer of mischief faint in the man's eyes. "Ah-, some of yours?" His question is followed by a glance to the children, and a few steps with that arm rounding about the air around Olwyn, hovering a foot away from the girl in an unsubtle guide.

Olwyn looks surprised at the Weyrleader's willingness to continue to speak to a nanny, but shyly nods and allows herself to be guided forward. As the boys give her one more guilty glance before disappearing into the crowd, she gives them a stern look, perhaps insuring good behavior for another ten seconds or so. "Yes, they're some of mine, I'm afraid. At least that's what the idea is. They tend to think otherwise, inside and out, but I believe we're coming to an understanding of sorts."

"Would be a first," E'tyn notes, dry as he watches that last exchange of eyes between the nanny and her sometimes charges. "I think I recognize them, they've caused terror to the lower caverns girls for turns on end, and well...," he shrugs in mimicry of mother at the end of their rope, adding wryly, "They're just going through a phrase." Long strides aim to keep slow enough to match Olwyn's pace and his intentions towards the end of one table with a few empty seats becomes clearer.

"That's what I hear, but sometimes it just takes a new perspective, I think. At least, it impressed them when they put some sort of crawly thing down my shirt and rather than screaming, I grabbed it and then stuck it down Chantrir's," Olwyn says with a grin as she makes her way towards one of the empty seats. Then, realizing once again who she's talking to, she flushes. "Not that I would normally do that to a child, sir, but those two...seem to ask for it," she finishes lamely.

Talented man that he is, as they pass by the serving tables, E'tyn manages to ring two mug handles around a finger. When they get to the table, a seat is gestured to and the two mugs are quickly filled with whatever's in the table's pitcher. Apologetic for filching their pitcher, the bronzerider tips his head in appreciation to the group of Dawnslight riders and then takes his own seat. "I... some boys are like that." Some boys, not him. "Some girls too. Some never outgrow that phase," he adds a moment later, klah eyes questing as they study Olwyn's expression.

Olwyn settles into the gestured seat, a brief look of relief passing over her face when she isn't scolded for the returned prank. She murmurs, "Thank you," then sips at her mug for a moment as she tries to regain her composure. "Some never outgrow it, but I think most of them can be taught to behave in a reasonably polite manner. My uncle certainly seemed to have a talent for it. He was always being sent terrible fosterlings, the ones their fathers had been trying to whip into shape for turns without success. Uncle didn't beat them, but he didn't put up with any nonsense, and they were usually like different people by the time he'd finally send them home."

E'tyn, after that studious look over of Olwyn, finally claims his own seat, slipping into it with a rake of the chair legs against the stone ground. His hands wrap around the mug, the spicy scent of apple cider inhaled appreciatively, but for now he refrains from sipping. "Would my ma have known about him," the Weyrleader notes, dropping his gaze with a shake of his head, rueful for whatever his mother's predicaments with him might have been, "She," pause, "And he would have sent me there in a heart beat. Sent to your uncle? Or were you born there?"

Olwyn takes another drink of the cider, savoring it for a moment. "I was sent there," she answers easily, then realizing what that could be taken as, quickly adds, "but not because I was bad. My father is a rider and didn't have the time to do things right by me and thought it was better that I have a more normal family than just running loose in the lower caverns. My uncle is really a cousin of my mother's or something, but it was easier and more familiar to call him uncle."

E'tyn listens, his study growing both bemused and kind as Olwyn goes on. "Just as well," his mug waves towards the nethers of the crowd where Faris and Chantrir must be up to shenanigans, "You'd have ended up like that I'm sure. Ah look-." The gesture to the crowd also displays that it's thinned out a little bit and the extensive line for food's dwindled. "Were you hungry? Or," he pauses to glance down at the nanny's stained tunic, "Were you just looking for something quick to munch down?"

Olwyn visibly shudders at that line of thinking. "I hope I wouldn't have, but parents do seem more effective than nannies in a lot of cases," she admits. "Oh, I'm hungry all right," she goes on with the eagerness of adolescence, then follows the Weyrleader's gaze to her stained shirt. "Oh dear. I suppose I should have changed before I came down here, sir," she says, mortally embarrassed once again. She sinks down in her seat a bit in a futile attempt to hide the mess behind the table.

E'tyn's cheeks mirror Olwyn's embarrassment and suddenly this suave ease with which he was conversing seems to fade out at his blatant singling out. Well, not so suave, but still at ease. "I didn't... I mean, I di... It comes with your duty," he finally states, breathing in and out with a heavy sigh. "No one cares if a dragonrider walks in with a cloud of firestone about them, right?" In his attempts to be reassuring, the bronzerider fails to meet the nanny's gaze and instead gets to his feet. "If you'd like to sit, I can fetch you a plate," is his attempt to compromise.

Horror joins Olwyn's embarrassment and she scrambles to her feet, self-consciously folding her arms in a vain attempt to hide the smears. "Oh, no, sir, I couldn't, that is, it isn't...you shouldn't be fetching me anything," she finally manages to get out a few coherent words. "If anything, I should be getting you a plate, and then letting you get back to your business. I shouldn't be monopolizing your time," she mumbles, dropping her gaze, though the flush that covers her face is still visible on her ears and forehead.

"Fetch me a plate?" E'tyn's bafflement rises far past his own embarrassment as he turns to pin a confused look to Olwyn. "Why would you do something like that?" Nonetheless, the bronzerider leaves the table quickly, picking his way through the crowd and with the absence of a line lingering, manages to procure a plate of varied assorted goods for the young nanny. "As for monopolozing my time," he continues on his return, "I'm afraid I've monopolized too much of your free time and left my work to languish." A truth, hopefully, one punctuated with a quick, hesitating smile. "Good evening, Olwyn."

While E'tyn heads out, Tiriana is heading in, to the serving tables to fill her own plate with food, picking over the offerings with a dubious frown. Though, she still manages to gather a decent enough meal, and when that's accomplished, she turns, moving to slide between tables and take the Weyrleader's abandoned seat. She even offers Olwyn a drawled, "Hey," reasonably polite considering their last encounter.

Olwyn, without the Weyrleader's presence, isn't able to move through the crowd as quickly as he is. She makes an abortive effort to follow, but fails, instead blushing miserably as the bronzerider returns and hands her a plate. "Thank you, sir. And, no, sir, you didn't!" she protests. As he departs, she calls out hesitatingly, "Good night," then settles back into her seat, picking uneasily at the plate. She doesn't look up until Tiriana greets her. She glances at the other girl, does a double-take, and then narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Hey," she replies shortly.

"Who was that?" Tiriana wonders, having noted E'tyn's departure and making now a gesture after him. She looks back a moment, then wiggles into her seat more comfortably, and starts to pick through her food. Pretty much anything green is being pulled out of the meal, all with a disgusted expression.

Olwyn begins to eat her food with a bit more enthusiasm, particularly the green things on her plate. She levels a look just short of a glare on Tiriana for a moment, then shrugs. "Someone who was nice enough to find me a seat and get me a plate," she says, truthfully but entirely evasive, especially considering what her last conversation with the other girl was about. She sips at her mug of cider, then goes back to eating, simply trying to move quickly now rather than enjoying her meal, green parts and all.

The glare rolls off Tiriana without comment; she doesn't even look up, instead continuing to pick through her food until she's happy with it and can actually start eating. "Oh, well. How lovely for you both. Are you still bitter 'cause I hit you?" she replies sarcastically. Then: "It's cold," the girl complains of the food, nevermind that's mostly her fault.

"Bitter? Bitter is not the phrase I would use. Not wanting to be around you, yes. Not feeling warm fuzzies for you, absolutely. I guess I'm just petty that way when someone hits me simply because they don't like what I have to say," Olwyn replies with her own sarcasm. When the other girl complains about the temperature of her food, she simply rolls her eyes unsympathetically.

"Warm fuzzies," repeats Tiriana blankly, looking up at Olwyn and snickering. "Did you really just say that? And you /completely/ deserved it, you know. You don't see /me/ holding any grudges, now do you?"

"I did not deserve to be hit," Olwyn says stiffly. "If anyone does, it's you for attacking people, and even then what you really deserve is to be put over someone's knee and spanked good and hard until you can act your age." She pauses to eat more of her food, then notes, "I'm not holding a grudge, I simply don't like you for very good reasons." Half of her statement is even true!

"Oh, somebody like /you/?" Tiriana snickers, definitely amused now, not even making the pretense of eating. "Poor little girl, can't stand up for herself. Just because I can take care of myself and you can't, you have to get all whiny."

"No, not someone like me. You're physically old enough to be out of the nursery, and so you're out of my hands. Someone should, though, because you act like you're about five turns old, and when five turn olds act like a brat, we spank them," Olwyn says calmly and just a bit smugly. "I can stand up for myself, I just don't see what punching a spoiled brat has to do with that."

"Well, you let me," Tiriana points out, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you're going to let people go around hitting you, they're gonna do it, duh."

Olwyn gives her a withering look. "Maybe that's how they do things where you come from, but before you no one over the age of five has tried to hit me since I was fighting over a bubbly with my cousin when I was eight. Most people do not go around randomly hitting each other and I'm certainly not going to descend to your level. Of course, I realize that mentally you are about five, and so I'll just put up with your behavior until someone realizes that you're old enough to be pulling your own weight and puts you with the rest of the drudges."

There's a table between Olwyn and Tiriana. This is a good thing. This does not stop Tiriana from aiming a sharp kick at Olwyn's shins under said table. "You better watch your mouth or I'm gonna have to hit you again. Mature people," she sniffs superiorly, "don't go around talking to people like that, either. Least not to their faces."

Olwyn winces as the kick connects, but then gives Tiriana a look of calculated triumph mingled with clinical appraisal. "See, that's exactly the kind of thing the kids I watch do and say. 'If you don't give me that block, I'm going to hit you! If you don't stop looking at me, I'm going to kick you!' Maybe your nannies let you get away with anything, but in the nursery here, when we hear things like this, we tell the kids they shouldn't act that way. If you can't handle being told that you're acting like you're five when you are and you can't use that appraisal to improve your behavior, that's not my problem." Acting as if the case has been closed with this final statement, she goes back to finishing her dinner.

The only distinguishable thing in Tiriana's mutterings then is something about 'arrogant little'. The rest peters off into nothing as she abruptly shoves her almost untouched plate back. "It's still cold," she announces as she moves to stand and flounce off.

Olwyn slows down her eating as Tiriana stands. She rolls her eyes at the pronouncement about the temperature of the other girl's food, but otherwise ignores the volatile teen. Clearly, her preference is simply to be where Tiriana isn't.

Olwyn, Ronari, A'ran, Cyrra

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 18:48:54 GMT

Ronari always enjoyed sitting near water. It was so beautiful, but yet so violent. It was so useful, but could turn on it's masters at any moment. So in a rare quiet time, the thin girl was sitting on the edge of the water, her skirts pulled up around her knees as she lets the icy water lap teasingly around her ankles. Her long black hair is for once loose and flutters behind her head in the nippy breeze. Pale blue eyes scan the skies, sorry for the lack of dragons to watch, but content with the peace of the moment.

Lumbering towards the lake from the central bowl of Telgar Weyr, the large brown lump that is Orvieth lets out a rumbling sound as he waddles along the ground. The dragon doesn't move ungracefully, but it is obvious that walking is not his preferred mode of travel. Jogging beside his lifemate (and he has to jog, for even though the creature is moving relatively slowly, the size of him makes his paces many, many times that of a man) is a medium sized fellow in full riding leathers, though missing the helmet, gloves and goggles. A'ran can be heard to be saying, "No, Orvieth, I'm not finished yet!"

Olwyn checks the buttons on her coat as she walks towards the lake shore and then adjusts a scarf around her neck to better cover the gap created by the top of her winter jacket. That accomplished, she buries her glove-covered hands in her pockets and picks up her pace. As she begins to circumnavigate the lake, however, she slows to gawk at the humorous sight of the rider valiantly trying to catch up to his dragon. After a moment's stare, she begins to giggle quietly behind her scarf.

Her temproary peace has abruptly ended as a draconic rumble can be heard behind her. Turning to see what had caused this audial disturbance, the slim girl is quite surprised to see a large brown dragon lumbering towards the shore. This was usual enough, but the sight of his rider jogging alongside him--attempting to stop his lifemate's progression it seemed--was entirely unexpected and caused Ronari to giggle. Soon they were close enough to identify, and as she recognized A'ran--and thus Orvieth must be the brown--her giggle turns to a full laugh.

As the dragon and rider pair draw closer to the lake, the large brown lets out a bugle of warming for anyone nearby and then leaps forwards. Giant wings unfurl and sends hard blasts of air across the shoreline, before the brown plummets into the shallows of the water, sending a relatively large wave across the surface of the lake. A'ran stands, perhaps two dragonlengths back from the lake itself, and watches as his lifemate splashes down. He grins slightly, "Ahem... sorry about that," he calls out to the people standing about the lake. The brown cranes his neck to look back at his rider for a few moments, before beginning to paddle out to deeper waters, rumbling as he goes.

As the brown charges for the cold lake, Olwyn catches on and begins to back away from the water's edge. She's a bit too slow, however, and a few icy drops splatter down on her. She shudders at the cold touch, an inadvertent, "Eeeek!" squeaking its way out before she can stop it. She uses one end of her scarf to wipe her face off, then continues moving at a more sedate pace in the direction she was going originally, which just so happens to be towards Ronari and A'ran.

The bugling brown gives Ronari only a moment's warning. She leaps to her bare feet and jogs back several paces. Realizing that she won't make it far enough, she cives into the thick grass just as the dragon makes contact with the lake. The large wave thankfully misses her, but she gets a good amount of spray in her face when she stands. A'ran's apology is noted and waved off as the girl sits back where she was, squeezing the moisture from her hair. Such were the hazards of living at a Weyr, she supposes, and nothing to be troubled by.

A'ran grins as he walks slowly closer to the lake, watching as his lifemate begins to swim, and then dives under the water when he reaches a sufficient death. The brownriders eyes then turn to the two girls near the lake shore, and he smiles apologetically to them, bowing slightly. "Good afternoon, ladies," he says in a rather quiet but clear voice. "Enjoying the sunshine?"

Olwyn's path takes her within hearing range of the other two just about the time that A'ran greets them. She smiles in return, nodding at the rider as well as her thick, tightly wound scarf allows, and once she gets a few steps closer, comes to a stop and responds in kind. "Afternoon, sir. I am-quite a nice change from the clouds and the rain and the snow we've had recently. How about you and your dragon?"

"Well I was." Ronari replied with a smile, still facing the water. She turns to the brownrider and calls to him. "Don't you have /any/ control over your dragon A'ran?" She softnes her words with a toothy smile and waves him over, gesturing to the bit of land next to her. It is then that the other girl's presence is realized, and Ronari offers her a wave.

A'ran smiles at Olwyn, "I'm glad to have a day where I don't have to worry about slipping off my ledge, Orvieth likes any sort of weather. Rain's good, though, stops us having much in the way of drills." The brownrider looks at the young girl consideringly, and looks over to Ronari, his eyes taking in her wet hair. "Of course I don't," he says, rolling his eyes, and openning his riding jacket slightly. "I don't think any rider ever does, to be honest. We can request things, but we're only allowed so many favours in a sevenday - and it's a bad idea to use them up with something as trivial as don't splash water on the caverns girls."

Olwyn pulls a hand out of her pocket to wave at Ronari in turn, then giggles again at the dragonrider. "Oh, if my uncle were to hear you say that. He's very traditional and very respectful of dragons and their riders, but he also doesn't seem to quite understand the concept that they are their own people as well and can have thoughts and opinions of their own. Hee, only so many favors," she repeats the quotation under her breath to herself. After a moment, she shakes her head as if removing herself from that train of thought. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself," she states to both A'ran and Ronari. "I'm Olwyn."

"Glad to know you think so highly of us A'ran." She calls out dryly. "I'll just remember that next time you want a hot meal at an unholy hour." She waves them both down again. "I've been roused by your lovely brown once already A'ran, come both of you and pull up some grass." She says matter-of-factly before turning to Olwyn. "Nice to meet you, you been here long?"

A'ran grins at Olwyn and shrugs, "I've had enough arguments with holders over the nature of dragons - they don't seem to comprehend the difference between a dragon and a firelizard." The brownrider frowns, and then looks out across the water to where his lifemate resurfaces. "I'm A'ran and that -" he says, lifting a hand to point, "is my lifemate, Orvieth," he looks back to Olwyn and smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Olwyn," He grins at Ronari and settles down, "Well, y'know, we did spend turns before you were born protecting your family from thread. Surely that deserves a little leeway, for an old dragon?"

Olwyn hesitates for just a moment, then smiles at the other two and settles down gingerly on the cold ground nearby. "Not very long this time around," she responds easily. "Just a few sevendays." She follows A'ran's gesture and smiles. "He's a very nice-looking brown," she admires the dragon. "It's nice to meet all three of you." She stifles a snicker at the mention of 'leeway for an old dragon,' but doesn't comment on it otherwise.

"You will most certainly merit generous amounts of leeway /when/ you actually become and 'old dragon' A'ran. Orvieth's in his prime." She gestures out to the dragon playing in the water. Turning to Olwyn, Ronari smiles, assuming the girl to be about her age--perhaps a little younger. "What brings you here 'this time around'?" She inquires, her face and voice polite.

A'ran smiles at Olwyn and nods to her, "I like to think so, and I know he does. Has a very high opinion of himself, quite unfounded really, but it keeps him happy." He glances between the two girls and leans back on his hands, looking out over the water and smiling. "What is it you do, Olwyn?" He smiles and nods to Ronari, "Well, he may be, I'm certainly not. Twenty turns with my legs either side of that neck have done my back no good at all."

Olwyn considers a moment, then, given what the other girl has been saying to the rider, dares a tease. "We'd probably have an easier time believing you, sir, if you creaked like an auntie when you sat on the ground just now," she says with a sly smile. "I was born here and liked it well enough as a child, and so...I came back," she says simply. "I've been helping out with the nannies in the nursery. So many children. It's a lot of fun."

At the mention of children, Ronari cringes. "Well, I'm very glad you've come back. Some of these children could use a little handling." She says, remembering what she'd heard about the 'violent' youths from Southern. Olwyn's tease causes her to chuckle. "She has a point." Ronari squints in mock conentration on A'ran's face. "You know...with just a little soot you might actually pass for one of our ancient Aunties..." She teases.

A'ran shrugs, "Age doesn't have to be obvious, y'know," he says. "I'm an old man, have been since I turned twenty." He sighs and looks up at the afternoon sky, glancing to Ronari. "Hmm... I had a cousin who was into that sort of thing," he says, frowning slightly. "It really doesn't sit with me, though, to be honest. I'm happy being a man, thanks."

"I'm glad to help out," Olwyn says from her seat on the ground near her conversational partners. "I was actually rather surprised by the very enthusiastic responses I've gotten when I asked if I could help out in the nursery. Everyone seems so glad to have another hand. I don't remember being such a handful, but then, I guess kids never do." A'ran's mention of being old since twenty gains another laugh. "Oh, woe! Just a few more turns before I hit old age, then. I had no idea I was so close to being over the hill."

Wandering rather aimlessly along the shore and gathering up bits and bobs of this that, Cyrra slowly approaches the others that are talking on the beach. The young woman gathers her bundle closer, keeping the handkerchief close to her as if someone would snatch it away. Dropping her gaze to the floor and letting her hair hang in front of her face, she slips along, attempting to pass them by.

Hearing the serious tone in the rider's voice, Ronari stops teasing, her voice quiet. "Pass is over now, it's time to be young again--at least for a little while." She smiles softly. Another young woman is moving down the shore, seeming as though she wants to be left alone. Ronari allows it, giving her only the slightest nod as she passes, but its accompanied by a warm smile.
Ronari pages to A'ran, Cyrra, and Olwyn: ack, I'll be back ASAP, until then......pose around me!

A'ran smiles at Oywyn and nods, then slowly stands from his place, glancing between the two girls and then looking out over the water to his brown. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you contemplating the terms and conditions of being 'old'," he says, with a slight bow to them both. "I, unfortunately, have to go pick up a new supply of oil for his lord Orvieth." The brownrider gives his lifemate a parting glance, and then begins moving towards the bowl, leaving Orvieth to his bath.

"It was nice to meet you, sir," Olwyn notes as the rider gets up and departs with his dragon. She nods silently in agreement to Ronari's statement. The conversation seeming to drag, she twiddles with an old, dried up piece of grass, pulling it from the ground and then knotting and unknotting it as well as she can with her gloves on. Cyrra's approach is met with an upturned head and a nod of greeting.

Olwyn, Zelindra, and E'tyn

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 18:45:41 GMT

Olwyn and Tiriana

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 18:39:58 GMT

Telgar Weyr Lake Shore
The vegetation thickens near the lake, becoming a meadow that runs along the edge of a narrow, sandy beach. The sands spill down into a crystal lake to the north, lapping against the crater walls to the north and east. A fence runs northwest-southeast, blocking off the lake from the feeding grounds. The grass is thick with autumn, and the long strands are beginning to seed. The few trees that stand on the banks of the lake are in their full splendor with leaves of red, gold, and brown. There are dark green water lilies on the lake, but they are no longer blossoming. In one corner of the meadow, Telgar's herb garden makes the air thick with the smell of mint and thyme, and the chives are in full bloom. Around it, a few fall flowers are blossoming. The red shades of sunset cast the meadow into deep, but peaceful shadows.

It's a cold night at Telgar, and while some might still call it autumn, for those like Olwyn who are just adjusting to the harsh weather, it's as cold as winter. She wraps her arms around herself for extra warmth as she crunches through the snow near the lake shore. The light snow falling isn't enough to yet cover the tracks the show her wandering path along the edge of the water, far enough away to stay dry. Thankfully for the unacclimated teen, the wind isn't blowing at the moment.

The cold doesn't seem to phase Tiriana, though, because while she's dressed warmly enough she's outside, scuffing her boots through the snow as she winds around the lake, watching said feet. When she notices someone else making the same lap around, though, she looks up to study them, curious, and after another moment offers a "Hey" in greeting to Olwyn.

Olwyn, whose gaze had mostly encompassed the ground in front of her and the water to one side, starts a bit at the sudden greeting. "Oh, hello," she responds automatically, turning to face the source of the word. "Running an errand, or is there someone else in the Weyr as crazy and/or foolhardy as me?" she asks wryly, her breath oozing out of her mouth in a smoky miasma reminiscent of a dragon needing to chew more firestone.

Tiriana eyes Olwyn warily, brows knitting as she pulls up to study her. "I'm just walking," she retorts after a moment. "Nothing crazy about it. Who are /you/?"

Olwyn looks taken aback momentarily by the response to her statement, then tries to shrug it off. "Sorry, I guess maybe you're used to it? I've not lived here in a long time and it seems really cold to me. Colder than I expected when I set off on my walk." She pauses, then adds belatedly as she tucks her gloved hands under her armpits, "I'm Olwyn."

"Tiriana," the girl answers after another moment. "It's Telgar; I don't know what you expected here in the middle of winter." Not that it's actually the middle of winter. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"Nice to meet you, Tiriana," Olwyn notes, though her tone is more one of politeness than genuine excitement at this encounter. "I didn't know what to expect. I haven't lived here since I was five or six. It's not like memories from such a young age are that great at preparing your expectations," she adds a bit defensively. "I'm most recently from Fort Weyr."

Tiriana eyes Olwyn, unimpressed. "Isn't Fort cold, too?" she points out, glossing over the rest.

Olwyn eyes Tiriana right back, her manner cooling to match that of the younger girl. "Not as cold as here," she says simply.

Tiriana smirks, rather triumphantly. "Uh-huh. Well, you planning on staying around here, then, or running off to Ista or Southern or wherever?" she asks next.

Olwyn's brow furrows in bafflement at the smirk, then shrugs again. "No, I'm planning on staying here. I've survived it before, I'll survive it again, I just won't necessarily be that comfortable for a while. A little bit of bad weather certainly isn't going to send me running when I want to be at a certain place," she says.

"So just what /are/ you doing here?" Tiriana continues pressing. "Get run out of Fort or something?" She glances over the older girl, then smirks again, amused this time. "Nah, you don't seem that type, really."

The pressing from the young girl is definitely beginning to yield results. "Yes, I got run out of Fort but Telgar was willing to welcome me with open arms. It was that or getting exiled to the islands," she retorts with more than a hint of sarcasm. "I'm /living/ here and doing all the things that come with that. I had fond memories and so I decided to come back. What, was the headwoman suddenly not satisfied with my answers and so you've been sent to ferret out my true nefarious purpose?"

"I don't know the headwoman," Tiriana admits with a shrug. "But my aunt is her assistant, and my uncle's the Weyrsecond, so you just better not try anything funny." Smugly, she offers Olwyn a little smile. "/I/ have connections."

"Please, am I supposed to be impressed?" Olwyn scoffs. "My father is a brownrider here, which might not be as high and mighty as Weyrsecond, but is a closer relationship. I prefer to make it on my own abilities, however, rather than on the strength of my 'connections.' I certainly don't see the need to try to threaten someone with them."

"My daddy's a bronzerider," Tiriana can top that one, too. "And my mother's a goldrider. And please," she snorts. "What people mean when they say they're going to make their own way is, they don't really /have/ any connections."

"That's funny," Olwyn retorts. "I've found in my life that those that rely overmuch on their connections to people and have to brag about them to everyone they meet are those who don't have the talent, ability, or determination to make anything of themselves, and so have to rely on the exploits of others to make themselves feel good."

The tips of Tiriana's ears pinken as she looks at Olwyn, glowering. Her lips purse, hands ball up, and finally, with a shrug, swings a fist at the other girl's jaw.

Olwyn smirks a bit at Tiriana's obvious discomfort, clearly enjoying having the upper hand after being nettled by the younger girl for most of the conversation. What she's not expecting is the fist swung in her direction. The punch connects, staggering Wyn backwards a few steps and leaving her staring at Tiriana dumbstruck for a moment. "What the shard did you do that for!" she finally yells, lifting a hand to gingerly pat at her jaw.

"How's that for a talent, huh?" retorts Tiriana, smugly sneering at Olwyn, though her hands remaining balled in preparation for retaliation.

"Oh, so you're trying to be a bully as well as a braggart? Yeah, that's really talented. I can see you're going to go far in life," Olwyn says dismissively and more than a bit nastily. She doesn't retaliate physically, however, instead turning in the direction of the living caverns, putting her back to Tiriana.

"I can finish kicking your ass if you really wanna," Tiriana yells after Olwyn, though she doesn't chase her down. Instead, glaring after her, the younger girl finally turns and resumes scuffing her way around the lake, scowling.