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 Tuesday, November 9th, 1999, for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
Brats and Bets
[The problem with applying for Search while resident of the Weyr in
question is that every time you RP, you'll run into somebody who can Search you.
Very soon you're a nervous wreck... as I remember being during this session.
Damn Shaela and D'renn for teasing me like that! Just for the record
though, I really did have to go at the end. I was in a computer lab which was
closing, although I felt horribly guilty leaving Khia at the same time as the
SearchCo'ers.]
Jevon says, "Would anyone happen to know where a herder might be right now? I am looking to purchase a feline. "
Pyrene shrugs at Jevon flopping into a seat. "Karen is our herder, don't know about felines though..." She glances at him more curiously. "You're new here aren't you? I'm Pyrene, head nanny. And these" she indicates the mob of children, "Are just some of the weyrbrats." Behold and tremble.
Jevon glances at the weyrbrats and smiles, "I love kids, even if they are brats sometimes!" he chuckles a bit, "Yes, I just moved in last night"
Pyrene shudders faintly at Jevon. "These ones are brats /all/ the time..." The kids beam proudly at the newcomer and nod smugly.
"Hi!" Khia waves, to both Pyrene and Jevon. "Herder?" she blinks and then mouths an 'oh', grinning afterwards. "My sister is a Herder! She lives in Keroon but is supposed to be living here for a while, she still can be found in Keroon!" the grin turns into a haughty but bright smile as the girl takes a seat, trying to find where the very faint smell of... bubblies are coming from.
In the Central Bowl, "Shaela!" Well, look who it is.... D'renn, resplendent in saffron leather, has just slid from Trydanth's side.
Jevon croutches himself down to be at eye-level with the kids, and says, "Hi!"
In the Central Bowl, "Ah, D'renn!" And his hideously-hued attire. "Just the man I was looking for, in fact," Shaela smiles, striding towards the older rider, a generous smile on her face.
Jevon smiles his appreciation for the information from Khia. "Thank you, I guess I will go then so I can try to find her" he looks back at Pyrene, "It was nice meeting you!"
In the Central Bowl, Yellow is not hideous, even when accented with deep purple! Or so D'renn believes, returning Shaela's smiles with a broad grin of his own. "What can I do for you?"
The children giggle back at Jevon, behind those innocent eyes they're already plotting unspeakable things to do to him. Pyrene is just glad that they're not paying attention to her for the moment.
In the Central Bowl, D'renn's just mad about saffron.. And saffron's mad about him? It does set off his eyes.. or maybe not. "Well, I was hoping you'd be able to help me out. Give me some advice, perhaps?" A dangerous request, but Shaela seems oddly unafraid.
Jevon walks out.
In the Central Bowl, "Advice? What sort of advice?" Trying to play old Uncle D'renn, he attempts to steer Shae in the direction of the caverns.
Pyrene shrugs faintly after Jevon and settles down pouring herself a redfruit juice and suggesting to the kids that they play nicely for a change. "Where's Tyara then, Khia? I thought she was supposed to be looking after you today?" For all Pyrene writes up the duty rosters, she can never remember them.
In the Central Bowl, "Well, it's a little bit of an issue with Chayath," Shaela begins, dutifully moving alongside the bluerider in the direction of the caverns. "A little complicated, actually. Perhaps I could explain it to you over a drink? That was the other reason I was headed out here.."
In the Central Bowl, "Certainly, certainly," D'renn replies, gesturing for the Weyrwoman to precede him. Beauty before age, or something.
Shaela walks in from the Central Bowl.
Shaela
Violet eyes gleam out from within the dark-skinned face of the petite teenage girl, their deep shade reaching an almost blue-black tone in most lighting. Jet-black hair, finally back to plaitable length, just below the shoulder, is tied back in a rough bun. Shiny though her hair is, it has the look of not enough washing, and the static-like halo of frizz that rises and crackles from such a style. Bangs frame her indistinct forehead, curling and waving in their unstyled way to fringe on thick 'brows. Black lashes, full and long, match the furried eyebrows. Lips often curved in a crooked smile reveal gaps spacing disproportionate and misaligned teeth.
Scarlet sisal has been cut rather simply to form a simple, unadorned gown. Though it lacks the usual embroidery and and beading that is so prevalent in Shaela's wardrobe, the dress accents all about her that is beauty, and conceals any flaws she wishes to remain unseen. The neckline is set far on her shoulders, and scoops across the chest and back enough so as to hint at flesh, but not so much as to show cleavage. The sleeves are long, hemmed just beyond the wrist, and tight-fitting, as is the bodice. At Shae's narrow waist, the dress flares into an easy, floor-length skirt, swirling and swishing as she moves.
Two cords, one blue, one black, intertwine to form a double loop marking Shaela as a Jr. Weyrwoman of High Reaches. A golden thread has also been woven into the simple knot, indicative of the girl's lifemate, gold Chayath.
She is awake and looks alert.
Shaela is 17 Turns, 6 months, and 27 days old.
D'renn strides in from the Central Bowl.
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.
Just as tight as D'renn's sets of leathers generally are, bright saffron stains a jacket tapered from broad shoulders down to the belt of bruised grape that encircles his narrow waist. Padded for comfort, pants of a deeper golden hue sleek themselves along muscled thighs and into scuffed black boots. Crocus purple too is a finger-length fringe decorating sleeves and lapels alike, dyed to match warm gloves and a curl-crushing helmet.
He is awake and looks alert.
D'renn is 36 Turns, 8 months, and 20 days old.
"Have you been out to the Sands yet, Weyrlingmaster?" Shaela inquires as she leads the way through the tables and benches that line the way to the drink table.
"She's busy with the rest of the brats," Khia shrugs, trying to avoid having Tyara getting into any trouble at all. "I just came here for," she shrugs again, "bubblies?" Hopeful look on her face is directed at Pyrene. Or maybe she'd like cookies...
Pyrene narrows her eyes at Khia. "Bubblies? You'll make a mess... although if it's Tyara to clean you up..." she nods vaguely towards D'renn and Shaela, motioning half-heartedly to the kids to keep out of their way. They do inch over a little. Just a little.
"On the Sands? Certainly not," D'renn replies to Shaela, following her through the caverns but somehow reaching the drink table first to pour himself some ale. The other cavern occupants are resolutely ignored.
"Not on the Sands, no," Shaela shakes her head, rummaging through the glasses available to come up with a suitably clean one. "But to the galleries, at least, to see the eggs?"
"I /never/ make a mess," Khia's hopeful look turns into an innocent one. Well, maybe she does make 'small' messes sometimes. Besides, all of the Firelizards leave messes whenever they eat as well, and they keep getting what they want. "Bubbly?" Khia repeats her request, almost pleading.
Lucky D'renn who can afford to ignore such occupants. Pyrene is apparently supposed to keep at least half an eye on them at all times. "You never make a mess, hm?" she repeats to Khia. "Oh, OK, but it's Tyara who has to clean you up remember. There should be some bubblies in the kitchen... you can get me one while you're there." Yes, wait on your nanny like a good brat.
"Of /course/," D'renn answers, almost scathingly. "Why, I had bets to make...." Carrying his ale over to a secluded - relatively secluded - seat, he waits for find out more.
Pyrene pricks her ears up at the mention of bets, as do the rest of the well-trained (in this at least) nursery denizens. "What odds?" she calls over curiously, although admittedly she prefers betting with the sort of mentality who can be convinced that that tiny egg's Chayath's hugging can hatch a gold.
"Odds of three to one that there are three bronzes in that clutch...." D'renn calls back, unashamed. He heard Pyrene this time, whatever else his selective hearing may block out.
Khia hops off of her seat, pausing for a short moment and then is off again, stumbling past everybody and then wandering into the kitchens, poking about in there for several minutes, searching for... those /hidden/ bubblies... Oh, but then finally, Khia trudges out of the kitchens in triumph with her precious
bubblies.
Pyrene hmms thoughtfully. "I say four," she decides, before getting distracted by Khia's reemergence. "Y'got mine dear?" Funny how the brats become dear when they bear food. The non-dear ones start muttering amongst themselves about how many bronzes /they/ think are in the clutch.
"Betting, tsk. I'll forget that I heard that," Shae winks, following the man to his choice of seat where she seats herself down across from him. "So, I'll assume you've seen Chayath's behaviour toward that little egg, then? First one out, poor thing, and so tiny.."
"Yours?" Khia erms but offers one to the head nanny, without hesitation to her surprise. "The little egg?" the girl repeats to nobody in particular, seeing that some of the people about the Weyr has been talking about that tiny egg. Whatever is so special about it, aside from it's size.
Pyrene sips her juice and grins at Shaela, "And only five blues at the most, I daresay." That's a compliment of course. She takes the bubblie from Khia and busies herself in eating it without making a mess, the brats have eyes like hawks for anything like that.
"I've seen it," D'renn confirms, followed by a sip of ale. "And heard all about it, too... is Chayath fretting?" The 'lingmaster /does/ have enough discretion to drop his voice to ask Shaela this, ignoring Pyrene once again. Only five blues... huh.
Shaela laughs, dropping the volume of her own voice as she responds: "Oh, she's not fretting -- she's smothering the poor thing! I'm the one who's fretting." She takes a long, slow, sip of redfruit juice, then continues: "I've been hard-pressed to get her to leave the Sands for bathing or feeding, or just to give her wings a little stretch. Now, she does, since she knows well enough what will happen if she doesn't take care of herself, but it still takes a fair bit of pushing from me. What should I do?"
The children have by now given up their game in favour of exchanging rapid bets. Pyrene watches approvingly, the harpers may wonder why the kids tend to get so much better at their calculations during clutch-time, but she knows that there's nothing like long odds to teach you your numbers. She keeps half an ear on the riders talk, out of concern as well as mere curiosity, but doesn't show open interest in case the kids do. Last thing she needs is a group of children panicking about the clutch in the middle of the night.
"As for leaving the Sands... she's a first-time mother, they all behave like that," D'renn declares, relaxing his voice to its normal pitch. "Just keep nagging, I'm sure you're good at it," he adds with a wicked grin towards Shaela.
"You're sure about that, then?" Shaela looks doubtful as she lifts her glass to her lips again. D'renn's words were definitely not what she wanted to hear; rather, what she knew she would hear.
D'renn swigs back some ale, carelessly. "Well, I've never been a goldrider.. .perhaps you should ask /them/?"
Pyrene wipes her mouth and then the front of her tunic with a handy napkin. There... she's more or /less/ cleaned up. "She looks the same as any other broody gold to me Shae..." she offers, being the expert that she is.
Well now, there's a thought. "Probably a wise idea," Shaela agrees, odd that the thought didn't occur to her before. "Thanks for your time, then -- I think I'll go scoot Areiah or Lani out," she adds as she stands, leaving her glass to be picked up by a drudge. "Oh, and put me down for three bronze," she winks, then turns and heads out in the bowl.
Shaela exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
"One mark or two?!" D'renn calls after Shaela... then shrugs, drinks his ale down, and leaves too.
D'renn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Pyrene watches the two riders vacate and snorts faintly. "Clutching time. Ahh these reckless days of chaos, hmm?" she eyes the weyrbrats flatly. "Anyway, you lot can get a move on too. And I'll bet you a sweetstick that that small egg is a green." With a nod to Khia, she departs.
