The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Monday 29th November, 1999, for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
D'renn makes an Apology
[After the throwaway comment C'lan made at the end of the Rug-Beating log, I chased D'renn up and we decided to play this out.]
Maurin sits in his usual spot -- at the foot of his bed -- busily completing his robe. Stitch. Stitchstitchstitch. Of course, he's still not very fast at it, but better than the child's pace he was sewing at before. His seam is straight and true, though, which is definately a good thing. All the main seams have been finished, and right now he's just touching up on the hemming...and doing a decent job of it, glad to say. His 'lizards, though, seem to be getting vicious pleasure of making his job as difficult as possible, tangling their wings in his thread, batting the spool onto the floor and generally making a rucus. The ex-drudge doesn't seem to notice however, and continues plowing through his work.
Liseria is lying prone on her cot, sheets and all rumpled around her slumbering, nightgowned form. Mumbles can be heard as she talks in her sleep, arms twitching every now and then like a canine's. "Mmmm, no. 'M no' gonna do n'more scrubbin'. M'fingerz iz rawr..."
Pyrene finally managed to get one of her own attempts at a robe through to the end unscathed and is quite cheerful to play with her fire-lizards and the shreds of a previous attempt. "What'd you say Lis?"
Tyara is in the same state as Liseria basically. On her cot, face down, hair spilling all over. "Hmm?" comes the mumbles. Uh, someone talked? Eek...
D'renn escapes in from the bustling activity of caverns and Weyr.
"I sed, I doan wanna do n'more chore-ez!" Not only does Lis mumble in her sleep, she can hear to. With that emphatic statement, the girl flops onto her back and tugs her covers closer. "Coollld."
Pyrene flicks Wal's nose with a strip of white cloth and glances around as she hears somebody enter... and then promptly leaps off her cot with more energy than she's shown for days. "D'renn," she states apparently not bothered by the cold since her voice is steady as a rock and just as soft.
"All asleep, in the afternoon?" D'renn asks, coming dripping into the barracks. It's raining out there. "I dunno, Candidates these days...." Oh, someone spoke. "Yes Pyrene?"
Tyara turns her head sleepily. D'renn? Where? Oh.. let Pyrene handle him, she'd probably end up with more chores..
Maurin gently removes Lys, his tiniest blue, from his lap where the 'lizard was attempting to wreak havoc. "Lys. /Please/." He murmurs to the firelizard, prying the creature from his wrist where he had firmly attatched himself. Struggling, the blue resists his humanpet, but soon latches onto the end of his cot as Maurin goes back to his work...only to find his bronze, Puk, where Lys had previously occupied. With never ending patience, Maurin removes the bronze and places him next to Lys...only to find a brown in his lap. Then after him his largest 'lizard, Lue, another blue.
Pyrene glances around the barracks--good no Kolen, no Ewyrpin, just the harmless (?) candidates. None of whom appear to be interested in supporting her here, but you can't have everything. "I wanted to continue our discussion about what /you/ said to C'lan. And you're not running away this time." She's going to fix him to the spot with her glare, like this... Glare.
"I couldn't help it, Pyrene... Trydanth wanted to chase a green, and I'm sure you didn't want me to stay in here..." D'renn replies without a hint of apology, blue eyes roaming the barracks. "'Lizard trouble, Maurin?" Anything rather than bother to look at Pyrene's glare.
Liseria awakes with a muffled snort at the sound of D'renn's voice, hands working on their own to automatically put a sweater over her head. Wait, she doesn't have to go anywhere just yet. The girl brings her legs up under herself, wrapping her bedclothes around her like a shawl as she watches the rest of the Candidates. Just watching, 'cause she isn't concious enough yet.
"I'll give you lizard trouble..." Pyrene mutters darkly, stepping into his line of vision once more. "Did you have any sort of reason for claiming that you had read something in my diary?" Foot taps and she cocks her head at him, waiting.
Maurin glances up, startled as he addressed. Oh no. He didn't annoy someone again, did he? He already got yelled at by one of th'other Candies for being himself. But it's only D'renn. Whew. "U-uh...N-no, sir..." He stammers quietly as he gently removes Lys from his lap /again/. Bothersome creature.
"Your diary? Oh, that," D'renn dismisses it with a wave of one hand, eyes still twitching every which way but Pyrene.
Pyrene nods standing firm now and frighteningly self-righteous. "My diary... which is interesting, because I don't keep a diary. Which really begs the question: how could you have read /that/ in it?" And what was allegedly read?
Tyara slowly makes her way into a sitting position on her cot, green eyes flickering between Pyrene, D'renn and the rest of the Candidates. What did she miss? Can't sleep for one minute and the whole Weyr is upside-down..
Liseria swivles the head of her mountainous self towards Pyrene, shrouded eyes peering out from beneath the edge of a blanket. Pyrene, a diary, and D'renn; sounds interesting. And so, what little attention Lis has is split between bluerider and Candidate.
Oh no. Verbal fight. Maurin hides...kind of. Tiz rather hard to hide here in the barracks without attracting too much attention, so the ex-drudge just shifts slightly, half turning away from rider and Candie. Still, blue eyes peer over the curve of his shoulder now and then, between few stitches and 'lizard moves.
D'renn
Dark curls flop into a tanned face, a faint thread of silver twining back from D'renn's left temple. He can only be described as short, wiry rather than stocky; muscles firm as a result of Turns of dragonriding. Blue eyes are framed by tiny laughter lines, another wrinkle furrowing a groove between thick black brows whenever he frowns - which is rarely. Mobile features are far more likely to smile, or laugh as D'renn makes yet another inappropriate joke at someone's expense... though malicious he never is, merely high-spirited and impulsive. The ingrained impetuosity shows too in the quick movements of someone who never sits still, but is constantly in fluid motion.
Loose dark trousers are tucked into high boots, a thick cabled sweater of blue llama wool keeping D'renn's torso warm. Ridiculously long and ludicrously colored, a striped scarf is wound four or five times about D'renn's neck, with ends dangling fore and aft.
He is awake and looks alert.
D'renn is 36 Turns, 11 months, and 16 days old.
"You don't keep a diary? Then what did I read?" D'renn's puzzled, concentrating now on Pyrene and peers at her with wide eyes.
Pyrene isn't often convinced by wide eyes and narrows her own back. "Nothing by my hand, I can assure you." Another quick glance behind her and then she shrugs and just says it. "But apparently there was a fair amount of paper wasted on how much /I/ would like to scrub C'lan's back. And you informed him of this--so, what warped little impulse of yours prompted you to do this?" And she doesn't blush when she says this either, obviously not suffering from Areiah's sensitivity over such talk. She merely scowls fit to scare an irate and broody gold--which probably means that she's enjoying this immensely.
And Lis now learns a great deal about Pyrene... The former Starcrafter's jaw drops embarassingly, open mouth gaping in wide-eyed aghast...ness. But there's people around! Lis snaps her lips together quickly - hopefully no one'll notice that 'ummp' sound snapping human-jaws tend to make.
Surely the evil glint in D'renn's eyes should let everyone know there's something fishy going on? "Oh, /that/. Well, it's common knowledge anyhow, isn't it Pyrene? That you want to scrub C'lan's back?" the innocent-faced bluerider asks the caverns at large.
Pyrene blinks a little, then recovers and renews the glare. "Oh is it now? And of course I'm the /last/ person to hear of such things? Really, D'renn, if you're going to make things up about me, at least make them /believable/... I've spent the past four turns scrubbing the children's backs--why on Pern would I want to start doing the bronzeriders as well??" And although she doesn't look at the other candidates, the set of her shoulders rather indicates that they'd better not be agreeing with D'renn.
Maurin ducks his head as he tries /very/ hard not to laugh. Laughing at this point to get his head chewed off. And we wouldn't want /that/, would we? Hurriedly he resumes his work, stitching quickly.
"Not /all/ the bronzeriders..." D'renn's tone becoming swiftly more insinuating. "Just C'lan's."
Pyrene doesn't like that tone... she's used it too often herself. A lot of the time on the bronzerider in question, although she's generous enough to share it around. "Just C'lan's," she repeats, and then comes the million mark question: "Why C'lan's?"
Liseria falls asleep with her 'lizards squaking ineffectually at her.
Liseria has disconnected.
D'renn looks Pyrene straight in the eyes, face perfectly smooth apart from a lingering smile. "Why not, Pyrene?" Answer that.
Tyara climbs into Tya's cot.
Inside Tya's cot, Head slowly starts to fall down as Tyara closes her eyes. Sleep.. just for a moment..
Pyrene doesn't answer questions she doesn't want to. She's evasive. Part of her charm. "Fine then D'renn..." she sighs, throwing her hands up in resignation. "Just make amends and maybe I'll forgive you."
"Make amends? How?" D'renn's black eyebrows squiggle together in a frown. "More to the point, for what?"
Pyrene folds her arms in front of her and lowers her own brows until they hang ominously over glittering eyes. "Well, it put me in a very embarrassing position, you telling Con lies like that. So I want an apology." And she pauses just for a beat, a faint smile of relish as she adds the formality. "Sir." This is revenge. For the manner in which she was Searched and more...
"Me, telling Con lies!" That comes out as a outraged squeak, D'renn's brows beetling badly.
"Yes you," Pyrene retorts back, not giving an inch.
D'renn looks - stares at Pyrene. Looks elsewhere... looks back. "Oh, alright then, I apologise." He even sounds cheerful about it.
Pyrene blinks again, then recovers. Again. She's had practice at this. "Say it like you mean it..." she warns, her tone clearly and deliberately taken straight from dealings with weyrbrats.
"I apologise," D'renn repeats, deliberately and calmly adding, "I'm sorry."
Pyrene pulls back a little then nods as patronisingly as possible. "And you'll go and apologise to C'lan as well?" she recommends. Highly.
"Nah, I don't need to apologise to /C'lan/..." D'renn replies. And leers.
Pyrene frowns, school-marm-like. "And why not? If anything you should apologise for raising his hopes," she comments flippantly, nose in the air. She can out-cocky D'renn if she really wants to...
"Oh no. I don't want to apologise for something I haven't done," D'renn replies - both lying, and leaving that deliberately ambiguous.
Maurin falls asleep.
Maurin has disconnected.
Pyrene sighs. Blueriders, infernal breed. She may as well quit while she's somewhere ahead--if only in her own view. "Well, I'll leave it to your conscience then, sir..." It's impressive how she can say that word with not one iota of respect whatsoever. "Just bear in mind that I /will/ be talking to C'lan about this in future." And she can threaten with the most lilting of tones too.
"Oh, good, I'm sure C'lan will like that, Pyrene." And so he turns tail and leaves the barracks - not quite laughing, but not quiet, either....D'renn slips back out to the caverns.
Pyrene glares after him. "Men!" she exclaims unoriginally. And she stalks back to her cot. "And C'lan's got a lot to answer for as well... Small wonder he doesn't like to socialise." Then she smirks softly, laughing wickedly to her fire-lizards, "Still, I /did/ get him to apologise, didn't I?" The lizards chirr approvingly back. They're terribly proud of her.
Gekoki snickers. Well, if that was Pyrene's purpose, she supposes the Candidate won. Much better than mean ol' D'renn winning.
Pyrene glances across to Geko and grins ruefully. "Not sure I cleared anything up though... still not sure whether C'lan or D'renn's lying. But I'll get it out of Con sometime--he's useless at hiding stuff."
Gekoki giggles quietly, kicking her feet up into the air "Well, knowing D'renn, er, I don't know, but I wouldn't /trust/ him. Not as such..." She pauses for a second, "What was it all about, again? I only started listening halfway through. Maybe even less than halfway..."
Pyrene ahems and eyes Gekoki. "Never you mind... I'll explain later. Maybe." And that's all she's getting out of her.
