The Dragonriders of Pern® is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Friday 26th November, 1999, for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.

A Physical, Poking Eggs and a Promotion

[My first physical followed by yet another egg-touching and the promoting of Marron to assistant nanny. If you want to go straight to the egg-touching, follow this link; if you just want to read about Marron's promotion, go here. The only time I RPed with our healer, Jathen, oodles of egg emits and Geko at her most buff.]

Tyara bites back a giggle at Pyrene's remark. Won't do upsetting the hand letting you touch the eggs, would it? "Oh, don't worry D'renn, they'll come," she mutters, nodding towards a group of messy, noisy Candidate-brats.

"Egg touching?" Poing. Lylia's awake, and bouncing of her cot with the stuffed brown dragon in tow. "Really?" She gathers some dignity, even while holding the endearing critter, watching the rider with curiousity.

"Hands up who hasn't been before," D'renn directs, giving Tyara and Pyrene and the younger Candidates long looks.

Pyrene rolls her eyes at D'renn, "Well, nice as frying on the sands is... I've got other commitments.." she says, trying to sound as if she /wouldn't/ rather be touching eggs than investigating the infirmary. "I'll see you lot later?" That last to Tyara and Lylia as she slips out.

"So you're not going to scrub my back after all?" D'renn calls after Pyrene.

Tyara smirks and waves after Pyrene. "You've been there!" she tells Kolen sharply as the brat raises his hand. "Get that down.."

Perhaps Pyrene heard? At any rate, the fading footsteps suddenly take on a stalking cadence.

"Me!" Lylia nods, her green eyes still wide, before she shudders. Group bathing, candidates and riders... scary. "Er... Chayath doesn't mind candidates about on her sands?" The image of those large eyes glaring at her isn't a nice one.

Whether Chayath minds or not isn't something D'renn's saying.... "Come on then, you lot." And off he stalks.

[While they went egg-touching, I went to the infirmary]

Glowlight bright reveals Healers' workplace.

Infirmary
Echoing and austere, blank stone walls are vaulted high to overshadow the row of white-curtained cots along the back wall. Ancient metal gleams steel-bright in the form of sinks and examination table, lit relentlessly by bright glows and reflecting the colours of bottles and jars shelved above. Padlocked cabinets hide the more dangerous drugs and implements, whilst healer paraphenalia litters one solid oak table with sweetly-fragranced herbs and tattered scrolls. A small hearth contains a fire usually banked low, several cauldrons set ready nearby to for heating water. A dark staircase twists up from one corner to the dragonhealer's lair; one low door leads into the lower caverns, another to weyrhealers' quarters. Barn-sized doors open inwards with creak of hinges from the ground weyr.
Comfortable on top of a cupboard is Bully.
You see Girta and Candidate Physical Board here.
You notice Caelista and T'sin asleep here.
Jathen is here.
Obvious exits:
Ground Weyrs Inner Caverns Healers' Quarters

Jathen
As Jathen turns to face you, the first thing you notice are his piercing dark green eyes that lock you in their grip. They have an almost flinty appearance to them. As the initial glance wears off, you notice that he has dark brown hair that has a tendency to hang in his face. His tan forearms are laced with very nasty looking threadscores. His face remains pleasant and his look is friendly. His look is often sarcastic. He is just above average height. His arms, legs and chest are obviously muscular but he retains the soft, gentle hands of a Healer. His fingers themselves seem a bit longer than they should be but perfectly in proportion with the rest of his body. He carries himself with a very casual look. He usually gives a smile and a nod to everyone.
Jathen wears a pair of dark green weyrhide pants that are a bit too large for him, but are fastened with a fairly nice leather belt. He also wears simlpe, long sleeved, loose shirt of an off white color. On his shoulders hangs a dark brown jacket that comes down to his ankles. As he walks it swirl around him like a cape. Jathen's Bag o Tricks hangs heavily from Jathen's shoulder.
Jathen wears the knot of Journeyman. He is a Healer.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 4 minutes.
Jathen is 21 Turns, 3 months, and 24 days old.

Jathen sits at his desk, writing on a hide furiously, not noticing anything around him...

Pyrene peeks in... he's busy... why disturb?? On the other hand... if she doesn't get one soon, D'renn might decide to oversee it personally or something. So she coughs. Not too loudly, but it's an effort, right?

Jathen does move, not looking disturbed in the slightest, continueing his work without so much as a flinch.

Pyrene ponders Jathen and then the door... one more longingly than the other. Finally she gives a resigned sigh: "Er, excuse me? I was told to come here... but if you're busy?"

Jathen blinks for a moment and then looks up as if listening for something. He turns around in his chair and sees the Candidate. His jaw drops for a second before he recovers. His hands fly into a series of rapid gestures and then shakes his head as if forgetting himself. He grabs a clean hide and writes down rapidly, 'Do you sign?' He holds the hide up for her eyes.

Pyrene blinks back at the man. Ah. "Er... no..." she says, shaking her head and blushing slightly. Faranth knows she should have learned--what with so many kids being deaf, but... "Sorry?" she essays guiltily.

Jathen smiles genuinely and shakes his head. He starts signing again but remembers. Her sets the hide back down and writes, 'Perfectly alright. Physical?' He holds the hide up again.

Pyrene reads, flushing faintly--as much for what might be to come as for what just happened--and nods. "But really... I /am/ healthy you know... I've been surviving the children here for turns..." That effectively raises her to superhero level, doesn't it? She fidgets nervously. Let this be quick and painless...

Jathen sighs and reads her lips. He writes, 'Go behind the curtain over there and change into the exam robe and then hop up on the examination table, please?' He stands, holds the hide of for her to see and then nods to the curtain over yonder.

Pyrene sighs again in resignation and slips behind the curtain. Various rustlings and the odd muttered imprecation later--which we'll assume Jathen can't hear, and just as well too, she reemerges, in the exam robe and shivering slightly. "Here?" she asks, perching stiffly on the table. Eyes fix apprehensively on Jathen and shoulders brace. It's rather reminiscent of a cornered tunnel-snake determined to fight to the death.

Jathen nods and drags his pack over to the table and also drags with him a high, narrow table which he puts a blanket over. He starts to unload all manner of healer objects. Pointy, sharp, twisted, aweful looking tools. He sets them all out in uniform fashion. He goes back to his desk and starts a new physical sheet. He brings back with him the old hide he wrote to her on before. He's already written, 'I'm just going to feel for your heart beat, pulse, and breathing, alright?' He gives her the hide to look at while he scrubs up in redwort.

Pyrene dutifully skims over the hide, nodding nervously. Her attention is fixed near entirely on those tools of course... throat fluttering as she swallows.

Jathen nods to her and smiles a reassuring smile. He balls his right fist very looksly and place his fist right above her her heart should be. He counts her pulse and heart rate at the same time. He nods and then moves up to the side of her neck, his fist in the same loose formation, feeling her breathing...

Why is it so hard to breathe when you're thinking about it? Pyrene smiles weakly at Jathen, in and out, in and out. She's doing OK right? As for her heartbeat... well she has no control over that, but she hopes that the whiteness of her knuckles as they grip the edge of the table isn't counting against her.

Jathen continues to smile at her, wishing he could give he some encouraging words at the moment. He can't feel anything wrong with her, so he walks back over to his desk and makes the appropriate notes. He returns and writings, 'Now what I need you to do now is to cover your right eye with your right hand and follow the glow stick with your left eye without moving your head at all. No worries.' He hands her the hide and picks up a fresh glow stick from the table.

Pyrene nods... That's easier. "OK," she murmurs, dry-throated, but the lips are moving well enough. Hand goes up... no wait, that's the left hand... right hand goes up and she pays due attention to the stick with her left eye. This isn't so bad...

Jathen starts to move the glow stick infront of her eye and nods with satisfaction. He gently grasps her right wrist and puts it at her side and takes her left wrist and brings it up close to her eye, hoping she gets what he wants her to do. He raises the glow to look at her opposite eye.

Pyrene catches on quick she does. So she jumped a little when he took her wrist. He didn't pull it off, so all to the good, right? Right eye blinks dutifully at the glow stick.

Jathen nods again. Everything's well with her eyes. He starts tp gesture again but gives up almost instantly and takes the hide and writes, 'I need you to open your mouth, then I need to look at your ears please?' He holds it up for her to see.

Pyrene ohs, nodding at the hide, then ohs a little wider dutifully, while smoothing those wisps of hair back behind her ears. There, that better? Eyes find his for confirmation, since she feels rather silly.

Jathen shines the the glow into her mouth. Everything seems to be in order there. He pushes her chin up in sign that she can close her mouth and at the same time moves her head to one side to get a good look at one ear, then turns her head the other way and back to center. He smiles at her again before walking back to his desk and making more note. As he walks back he has already written down, "Just need to tap your knee.' He flashes the note to her very quickly and as he does so he picks up a small mallet from the table with a lightning speed and taps her knee and stands back, wait for a responce.

Pyrene blinks, having not had time to read the note and she flashes him a suspicious look. The knee makes the requisite jerk and in good time too though. Nannies need quick reflexes.

Jathen nods, and walks back over to his desk and finally sits back down. He props his feet up on the desk. He looks over at her and begins to speak in a clear, crisp, light baritone, "Now I'm going to have to ask you a few questions..." He flashes her a mischievous grin.

Pyrene nods, then catches herself and stares at Jathen. "You can hear? Or at least speak..." She probably shouldn't be surprised... Sliding off the exam table she stands awkwardly, cocking her head at him. "OK, but only if I'm allowed to ask you somethings too." Pyrene doesn't believe in the saying 'you're in no position to bargain.'

Jathen frowns slightly, but then grins, "Alright. Me first though. After that you can ask a question. Have you ever been pregnant? If so when? If not, when was your last cycle?"

Pyrene sniffs. "I've spent enough time taking care of /other/ people's children, thank you. I've never been pregnant, don't intend to be... and my last cycle..." blush... is this /really/ necessary? "Sevenday and a half ago it ended... like it always does... I pay attention to this sort of thing." Pyrene is incredibly organised over some things... though half the weyr may disbelieve it.

Jathen nods, "Okay..." He makes some quick notes, "Your question?"

Pyrene hmms and starts with the obvious one then. "Why'd you pretend to be deaf?"

Jathen shrugs, "I didn't feel like talking. My throats a tad sore but I have in under control.' He looks back down to his papers, "Now, do you confirm or deny all that you have said and done as truth?"

Pyrene rolls her eyes. This explains why he was posted to this weyr. "I had the option of lying?" she wonders sweetly, then relents and shakes her head. "Don't worry, everything was true. I was brought up to be a good girl and not lie to healers."

Jathen smiles his normal smiles and slaps his desk and signs his name at the bottom of her physical sheet, "You're done and are free to leave unless you have any more questions?"

Pyrene phews and grins at him, eyes dancing in relief. "Well... don't you ever get bored just doing that all day? WAving around glowsticks and such?"

Jathen nods, "Of course it does. That's why I'm about to go do my rounds..." He cleans off the table and packs up his pack and shoulders it.

Pyrene doesn't need the hint. Diving back behind the curtain, she changes into her normal clothes with notable speed and waves breifly as she slips out.

Wafts of sweet-mint follow you out of the infirmary.

[And so I hasten to the Sands and yet another Egg-touching]

A single step and the heat increases. Another and it gets hotter still. A few more and you are out onto the Sands themselves, bathed in waves of warmth.

Sands
Heat rises -- ripples -- wavers in a stifling curtain that envelops dragons and eggs while smothering riders and visitors. The black sands have been raked into ruts and dips, an alien, uneven surface for anyone trying to walk across them. Some say tension seers the heat: residue of hope, fear, relief, sadness, pain and ultimate joy staining high grey walls and lurking about the many viewing ledges that speckle the walls. Ancient murals of dragonlore fade across the walls near gallery and entrances.
Tucked watchful and warm onto a ledge is Taco.
Gold Chayath, Brown Tyrodinth, gold Ysbryth, and bronze Cairhoth are here.
You see Mound of Eggs here.
You notice Shaela and Yiddae asleep here.
D'renn, Lylia, Gekoki, and Liseria are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl

Well, look who showed up after all? D'renn sticks his tongue out at Pyrene, whether she notices or not, and returns to watching the Candidates, arms folded.

Thesy moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.

Pyrene does notice, her own tongue showing pinkly in response. She makes up for lost time though, slipping swiftly among the eggs until she reaches All Hallows Eve... Which looks interesting enough to risk a touch maybe? Hands tentatively brush the surface...

"Don't be silly, dear. Of course you can not come in here." Shaking her head but grinning Thesy advances to the huddled group of candidates around the weyrlingmaster, "Egg touching again, D'renn? How often have you done that already, huh?"

Trick or treat? Evil chuckles gibber at the furthest corners of your mind, balanced by a promise of sugary delights.

"Aye, egg-touching," D'renn greets Thesy, still looking stern as he watches the Candidates - and Chayath too.

Liseria is captivated by the sweetness of the pastel'd orb before her, fingers drawn back much like at the Thanksgiving Egg: as if Lis was going to lick them. Luckily for the girl - and her tounge - she just drops the hand back against the cool minty parts of the egg; the pink's a bit too much, even for her.

Gekoki grins a little determined grin and touches Hide The Shoes with a little more purpose. Perhaps she'll find that tantalizingly close present before those others if she tries hard enough. She has to be able to get it, it's right there in those shadows...

Pyrene wrinkles her nose and steps away again. Another possible blue. So she's said that about half the clutch so far... you can never be too careful. She spots Thesy then, a little belatedly, and tosses a light smile to the rider. Sardrinth's not with her... she'll be nice. Hmming over the rest of the clutch and grinning impishly at the other candidates, she continues, pausing this time at Cha-no-yu.

Yum! Suddenly, Lylia's feeling quite hungry. But even the thought of the kitchens, laced with the scent of fresh klah, can't distract her. Blazing eyes dance over the sands, looking for an egg to touch... what's that? Past the great gold dragon, nearly unnoticed by the candidate, she sees an egg. The Frosh Day Egg. Should she try? Quietly slipping past the other candidates, and trying to avoid Chayath's gaze, her hand reaches out for the littlest egg, a few fingers reaching out to brush the shell.

Bamboo's strictness shapes and forms an ancient ceremony, the delicate tinkle of porcelain accompanied by the bitterness of green tea.

"Now that's not so bad..." Lis couldn't resist muttering something aloud, even if it does draw a few worried looks from the Candidates surrounds the nearby eggs. With that delicious thought in mind, Liseria heads off to another sweet egg, this one perhaps not so garishly pink: Wimbleton Strawberries and Cream egg. Vibrant reds get a delicate caress from the girl's hands, but no more does she try and /lick/ her fingers. Thank Faranth.

Pyrene cocks her head thoughtfully. She can't pinpoint that one... but not blue. Far too restrained. She traces it a moment longer then glances around to see where people are. Nobody's paying attention to the Pancake egg it would seem, so she heads that way... "Anybody actually got any idea what's going to hatch out of any of these?" she asks out loud, fingers dancing up and down the shell, mimicking the pancakes.

"Just do be carefull, will ya?" Thesy reminds her gaze following D'renn's over to Chayath but the gold seems to be fast asleep.

A shuffling of feet, another stomach's flip... and something somewhere seems to stick, pale and gooey... till *plop*, it drops, smashing to a mess of ingredients.

Odd. Lylia can't explain the feeling that wells over her as she removes her hand from the egg, slinking past the silent gold dragon. What did it mean? And should she ever know? Brooding over the sense sweeping her, she returns to the rest of the clutch. Egg here, egg there... each special. Which one to examine now? The Helston Flora Dance Egg catches her eye, and she skips and flutters over, fingers tracing over the colors.

Pyrene sighs. "I swear half this clutch'll be blue..." she taps the pancake lightly, frowning, then tracks her way over to Solar Eclipse. It's impressive. You can say that much... but what's inside? Touching isn't really going to tell her, but she'll try it anyway.

Gekoki turns her attention from the hidden-est egg to the egg given by far the most attention. Dare she try and touch Frosh Day Egg? Only one way to find out. Walking amidst the mounds of eggs, she approaches the small egg, cautious of it's broody mother. Hesitantly, she lays a hand on it.

Liseria twirls her fingers over the egg, as if trying to swirl the thick cream over the berry-red goodness. S'much better than way, the girl thinks. "Oh, 'Rene," Lis giggles amid her shell-styling. "That's not possible, I don't think..." Then again, Pyrene's from High Reaches and she's not. But Lis leans closer to her tasty egg; whatever the color, it's sure nice to look at.

Darkness enfolds, hiding the sunlight away in a world suddenly black with ancient fears and mystery. Yet the light always returns, a new dawn unfolding.

Pyrene isn't /technically/ from High Reaches. But she'll grant that she's more of an expert that Liseria. She'll also grant that she's more of an expert than D'renn, but that's another story... "I know, I know... but everybody guesses and bets... I was just wondering what other people's opinions were..." she explains, hands resting lightly against the shell, lip bitten as she /listens/. "I like this one... bronze maybe?"

Lylia giggles suddenly, feeling elated. She wants to dance? Well, she twists and dances her way past Pyrene. "Blues here, blues there..." She randomly points to eggs, smirking. "Everywhere? I don't think this is a blue though..." Her movement least her right back to a topsy-turvy egg, the one that made her fly into a strange sense, almost like that of before wine was restricted for her. Her hand reaches out, happily caressing the Roaring Drunk Egg. Hello, old friend.

Gekoki glances over at her fellows bantering back and forth. "A'course not," she murmers. Maybe she should tell them that. That would mean rejoining them though, and leaving the special little egg by itself again. Almost in apology for leaving, she strokes Frosh Day Egg's shell a few times more, enjoying the possibilities this egg seems to entail.

Once more, in an ever-turning cycle, blackness conquers. Yet always the promise of a fresh start is held out, to be brought into being with the light.

Pyrene slips away finally, moving to join Lylia at Roaring Drunk egg... "How is it?" she wonders of the girl, grinning almost shyly--still childishly delighted over the novelty of being able to /touch/ the unhatched eggs.

D'renn yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Aren't you lot done /yet/?" he demands loudly, casting a look towards the still-somnolent Chayath. She must be sleepy - she even let them touch her little one.

Giddiness whirls you in a tight circle, leading you into a dance that your feet don't seem to know the steps for, laughter and music whirling you around and around.

Liseria staggers back from her egg, eyes blinking in slight surprise. So this egg isn't 'safe' either. This time, she heads right towards the All Hallow's Eve Egg. If she goes for the unsafe-looking ones, perhaps they'll be safe? That hope in mind, Lis tenatively puts one hand to the shell, half expecting cold to greet her instead of the usual Sands heat.

Lylia shrugs, gaze going down the the swirling colors as she wavers. Suddenly, she feels a little tipsy... then it's gone. "I don't know. But there's gotta be /one/ that isn't a blue. And maybe this one isn't." She gives it a final pat, before trotting off too look about. Which egg now?

Pyrene makes a face. "Nah... I think that one's got blue potential as well..." She heads off to Wimbledon then, eyes flicking back and forth rather appropriately, although she's only watching out for brat-candidates. "/This/ one, now, this one's not a blue. Brown I hope..." Pyrene wants lots of browns... then she's more likely to Impress one.

Gekoki looks out over the field of eggs, all of them seeming to beg to be touched. But D'renn's bored comment cuts that short. She stays where she is, and replies respectfully to the Weyrlingmaster with no Weyrlings, "I can leave whenever you want, D'renn, sir." Is that a touch of reluctance in her voice? Not surprising, considering the way she lingers over Frosh Day Egg yet. Only because there does't seem to be much time left to seek out another egg.

Cream smooshes into bright strawberry red, melding into pinkness. Perfect, sugar-sifted, pinkness.

"Oh, keep going," D'renn grumble to Gekoki. "Though I'd leave that egg alone now if I were you."

"Oh! I need to go, I'm 'apposed to getting to the...." Mumbling to herself, Lylia hotfoots her way to the edge of the sand, sorrowfully looking back. Can't she stay with the eggs forever and ever?

Lylia goes home.

Gekoki looks up at D'renn, then at Chayath. She sees what D'renn means. Edging away, she says, "Oh, well then, thank you, D'renn, sir." With that she plies out once more, set into a rather optimistic viewpoint. Perhaps this is the best of times to approach All Hallow's Eve Egg, while she's still in good spirits. She approaches it blithely and sets her hands upon the dark egg.

Pyrene waves to Lylia, apologetic, sympathetic, but not leaving the eggs herself. Baleful bullfight attracts her attention next. Now there's an egg you'd think she could relate too.

Liseria slides her eyes from the egg to look Pyrene-wards. "I think it's brown too, 'cause it's tasty like the gravy-ish one." A rare Liseria-comment on the subject of dragonets. The girl peels herself away from the supposedly safe egg, sunlight streaming back into her world as she goes after the long-sought prize of the Candidates: Hide the Shoes egg. But first, she needs to find it.

The drumming of hooves echoes with the rhythm of flamenco, the cheering of crowds overpowering the sensations of metallic blood and crimson cloaking.

Pyrene nods, agreeing fully with Liseria. "That browny one over there?" she asks pointing, "Yep... that's definitely a brown--oh!" The egg seems to have caught up with her. She cocks her head at it. "Dunno about this one... not blue though, too much style." That remark wasn't aimed at anyone of course. That tilt of her head towards D'renn? Purely coincidental. And she's off again anyway. That Cliodhna egg, malevolent though it may look, she's trying that one. Fingers spread defensively and press against the shell.

Scuffing sand around her over-heating feet, Lis happens to skip over the top of the egg she was looking for. "Oh!" She drops to her hands and knees, brushing away enough burning grains until she's got a good handspand's worth of the top of her shell, the dark part, the sparkly part. Hands are laid atop this leathery-looking orb gingerly - it's hot!

D'renn has style. Definitely. A strange style of his own.... Trydanth on the other hand also has style. Even if Pyrene refuses to acknowledge it.

An enchantment in purest reds drenches over you, forbidding, foreboding - a sense of menace contained in the crimson depths.

Gekoki leans away from All Hallow's Eve Egg, repelled by the sensations she gets from it. And yet, she's also tempted to lean in hungrily for the something that was more than a hint of sugary goodness.

Style? D'renn? Somehow those two wouldn't come to Thesy's mind together. But she keeps quiet, looking the other way as not to be betrayed by her laughing eyes.

Pyrene lingers awhile longer... oh, now, /here's/ a kindred spirit of an egg... not as tasty as some of the others, but that menace... What wouldn't she give to be able to turn that on the brats. Or the blues. Or D'renn's so called 'style'.

Liseria smirks happily at egg beneath her hands, though the skin is taken out of contact with the shell quickly. All the sand surrounding /definately/ increased the temperature of that one. For Chayath's benefit, the girl sweeps sand atop the egg again, brushing sands off her various parts as she stands.

A mocking cackle seems to fill you ears ... and menace surround you ... so you should feel at home a bit? A familiar spirit? Beware, you could be surprised!

Pyrene steps back then, changing her former opinion slightly. "That /could/ be a blue... but whatever it is, it'd make a /great/ nanny..." she declares, backing away from the egg with some respect. She nearly falls over Bataille de Fleurs egg, spinning around to save herself just in time. "Oh..."

Pink and yellow, pale blue and white, green and red swirl all around ... to and fro ... a menuet of petals dances through the air, filling it with a dazzling scent.

Gekoki actually pushes herself away from the egg this time. Those dark shadows are far too troubling; but the memory of those scary sensations fade quickly in comparison to the nice things. With those in mind, she meanders among the eggs, reaching a hand out here and there but not actually touching anything before coming to the Belmont Stakes Egg.

"Alright, alright, time to go now," D'renn orders, just like that, arms still folded and face a set grimace.

"Hey Lis!" The girl in question looks up, spotting her favorit taskmaster - Thiyo - at the edge sands. How'd she...? "Coming, Thiyo, coming," Lis calls back, trudging reluctantly off the Sands. Ooh, convienient timing.

Liseria escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.

Another glance at Ysbryth an Chayath and Thesy nods, agreeing with D'renn, "Right, better we're gone before they awake. They just don't really like their eggs touched too often."

Pyrene chuckles at Bataille de fleurs, dancing lightly away from it. "Green," she declaims, and tossing an impudent wink to D'renn, she heads off the sands too. "We're going, we're going... may as well finish up those chores."

Gekoki glares breifly at D'renn. And after all that talk about plenty of time too. She gives her egg another touch, defiantly, and then scuttles to catch up with everyone. "Right, chores..." Now why doesn't she sound more eager?

Thesy gently pushes two other candidates towards the exit and waves another one over as she heads for fresh air and some coolness herself. Even her boot soles have warmed up to a very uncomfortable degree.

Thesy escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.

Gekoki escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.

Oh yes it will be so nice to get off the sands...
Sand's Edge
Hot -- hotter -- hottest! Heat rises from the Sands just beyond the upraised stone, rippling and undulating outwards to flow out through this vaulted entrance. The air is hot and heavy, a thick mantle that clings to those who skirt the edges of the Sands and slip into the tiered galleries along the inner wall. The whoosh and promise of cooler air is but a few steps away in the bowl.
Dotting the raked dunes at the edge of the cavern is Imperia.
Thesy and Gekoki are here.
Obvious exits:
Galleries Hatching Sands Bowl

Thesy calls to Imperia, who flies over and lands on her shoulder.

Thesy strolls to the Bowl.

Gekoki grins over at Pyrene, "That was lots of fun, don't you think?" Anything to avoid remembering her chores...

Pyrene takes one last regretful look back at the sands and then shrugs at Gekoki. "It was, wasn't it? I never really thought of what they'd be like to touch... What're you up to now then?"

Gekoki shuffles her feet as the Sands retreat behind her, thinking. Finally, she says, "Well, I was supposed to go help clean the bathing caverns, but I'm sure that it was optional..." Of course it was optional. "What were you going to do?"

Pyrene grins wryly at her. "Bathing caverns would be a little hot after the sands... you should cool off a bit first. C'mon..." And she heads out to the bowl. Which is amply cooler.

You go to the Northern Bowl.
Northern Bowl
Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds.
It is a winter afternoon.
To the northwest, you see one person.
Clinging wind-blasted to Council arch is Orphan.
Blue Sardrinth is here.
Obvious exits:
Training Grounds Council Rooms Sands Jr Queens' Weyrs Central Bowl

Gekoki steps quietly in from the Sand's Edge.

Sardrinth risks the murderous thermals and leaps into the air.

Pyrene winces, hugging herself against the cold, snowy gusts. Fortunately she left a jacket at the sands entrance and hastily slips it on. "You OK there Geko?" Sometimes those not used to Reaches weather have the wrong attire.. she's learned this the hard way as she seems to learn most things.

Gekoki shivers, despite the coat that she barely remembered at the entrance. IT might not have been the best place to leave it, the entrance - the coat's as cold as the weather, it is. Still, she's big and strong and buff, right? She can handle a little cold. "I'm fine," she says, chattering teeth giving her the lie.

Pyrene looks back at her and sighs. Curse her child-rearing automatic reflexes. "C'mon then... we'll get inside. Follow this path here... it's a touch longer but you're more out of the wind." and she starts down one of the tracks where the snow has already been broken.

Gekoki still hasn't gotten nearly enough of snow. While she follows the path Pyrene takes, she crunches down the snow on either edge, sending small globs of it up at a time. Not as much fun when it's been on the ground for a while...

Pyrene glances over her shoulder, walking backwards. "What are you...? Don't they have snow at--oh where are you from again?" Pyrene gets too confused to keep track. She kicks some snow up herself, wishing she'd had her gloves with her.

Marron wanders in from across the bowl.

Marron
Strawberry blond hair tumbles into a waterfall of fine and straight hair, tamed, shiney, and well kept. Her skin is a lightly tanned shade, and her lips are coloured an apricot hue. Twinkling sapphire eyes almost sparkle and shine in their bright luminance, along with long, naturally-curled brown lashes. Though her figure appears thin and she looks like a shy, beautiful girl, she is not at all frail with her 'strong' build. She's of a surprisingly average looking height with her long legs and arms.
Wherhide boots are tied on Marron's feet, the laces dangling, just a disaster waiting to happen. Also worn by her is a charcoal black sweater made of burdenbeast fur, which isn't buttoned, revealing an ivory white shirt underneath that's fairly tight. Her midnight black pants dangle slightly due to them being baggy, the pants made of tough yet comfortable fabric. Wherhide Carrysack hangs loosely over Marron's shoulder.
She is awake and looks alert.
Marron is 19 Turns and 23 days old.

Gekoki tucks her hands, balled into fists, under her armpits. Much warmer. "Oh, yeah, they have snow. But snow's not all that common. Only a fourth of the year, after all. And Keroon was just about to get it's first snow when I got Searched..." She grins, and kicks up a little more snow. At Marron's arrival she grins and uncovers her hands long enough to wave, "Hello!"

Pyrene turns around hearing the sound of boots on snow. "Oh... hello..." she calls over to Marron. "Mind Gekoki here... she's not used to snow and is... active." Kids, hm? What can you do. "But she's not a weyrbrat, just a candidate, so don't worry about her."

"Last time I eat a meatroll in front of a hungry bronze," Marron mutters absently aloud as she wanders aimlessly in from the central bowl, shivering softly. When did she not take time to notice how cold High Reaches gets? A head is bobbed to the two with a friendly smile. "H'llo," she greets, shivering and stamping her feet, trying to knock away the cold.

Gekoki pouts at Pyrene, then turns to Marron, "Don't mind Pyrene about me. Even if I weren't a candidate, I'd not be a weyrbrat. And snow's fun!" Weyrbrats can't be buff, can they? She doubts it. She scuffs a little more snow.

Pyrene stretches and peers at Marron. "Bronze fire lizard?" she thinks for a moment... no Tremayne's fast asleep. Good. "What're you doing all the way out here?" And she flicks some snow Geko-wards with her heel.

Pyrene
Resolute, stone-grey eyes dominate an anaemic face plagued by vagrant tendrils of dark brown hair, although much of it has been forced into a limp and untidy plait which matches the rest of her in its skimpiness. Her frame is in that spindly, awkward stage, having only recently fulfilled its obligation to grow and at that it's stopped just shy of average height. Still, she makes the most of her meagre inches, holding herself firmly upright in a manner yet reminiscent of the stubborn child rather than the confident, young woman.
A patched but stout dark red woolen dress stretches to her ankles, providing protection from 'Reaches cold. Although it may drape over the beginnings of curves, it is not to be worn to show them off; the cut stubbornly being for more practical purposes instead. Peering suspiciously from Pyrene's shoulder is Tremayne. Nestled demurely on Pyrene's shoulder is Kernow.
The blue and black's still there, but now there's a thread of white running all the way through... this head nanny's taking a break--of sorts. At any rate it's fairly evident that Pyrene's currently a candidate at High Reaches Weyr.
She is awake and looks alert.
Pyrene is 18 Turns, 3 months, and 2 days old.

Marron glances suspiciously at Gekoki, a grin sneaking up, curling onto her lips. "Snow is /not/ fun," she remarks with an attempted giggle. She gazes over to Pyrene, continuously stamping her feet into the snow, flakes flicking about. "Out here?" she repeats with a blink. "Nothing.. really. Thought it'd be warmer here than the central bowl. Guess not?"

Pyrene must have good aim or else have awful luck. How else would the snow flick Geko's way actually find it's mark? Rubbing the freezing stuff from the side of her cheek, she directs a glare at Pyrene. "Oh yes it is," she murmer to Marron, bending to scoop up a small handful of snow with her bare hands. Cold, especially after the Sands. With a bit of compression, and a flick of her wrist, snow speeds Pyrene-wards. Looking at the chafed redness of her hands, she stuffs them back under her armpits. Bad judgement on her part...

Pyrene's shoulders shiver as another wave of cold hits her. "How come /nobody/ ever does anything anymore except us candidates?" she laments to the sky. "Even when I was a nanny, I had to work when there were eggs on the sands." She cheers up momentarily. "Course, they're having trouble without me now... and Tya gone too. Wouldn't believe me before would they? But /now/ they know just what the brats are." Almost without thinking she ducks Geko's snow. She's got great aim and reflexes by now. The question is, does Marron? Cause that's who the snow's now heading for.

Gekoki hides a pout with great control. Of course the question of who threw the snow is simple. Must have been Pyrene, since Geko's far too mature for something like that. She giggles at Pyrene's tirade. She always had to work, even when there were eggs on the Sands. Acourse, her location might've had something to do with it...

"Brats, brats, brats," Marron murmurs, then flicks her gaze at the snow heading her way. Eep! The snow smacks her right in the forehead, tumbling down her chin, her stomach and her knees, before plopping lifelessly to the ground before her. The snowball had a good life.. smacking one of the weyr people. The after effect isn't much, not even a red spot. Marron's all frostbiten already, her skin can't turn any more rosy than it is now. "Ick," she comments, wiping some melted droplets from her forehead.

"Brats." Pyrene agrees. "You seen much of the weyr-children?" She glances back at Geko and winks. Heh. Can't hit me, nyah nyah nyah. No comments about the maturity of nannies here, please.

Gekoki holds it in her mind that it really was Pyrene's fault. Of all the audacious things to do, ducking was not one she had expected of Pyrene. And that wink. Ooo. Rather than let everyone know that's what she thinks, though, she dances around and complains a little, "It's very cold out here, you know..."

I know a nanny who's incredibly mature, Pyrene. Marron lifts a brow and grins. "Have I seen them?" she repeats, musingly. "Yesterday they were skipping around, screeching nonsense about cookies." She eyes Gekoki. Very cold? Try beyond cold.

Pyrene is feeling evil. Why? Why not? Therefore, she's going to be evil to Geko by hanging around out here, and she's going to be evil to Marron by... "Say... do you have a job around here?"

Gekoki frowns. Cookies are not to be toyed with. Cookies are a very serious business. Or so she thinks. She feels the need to remind Pyrene, "Did I mention it's very cold out here?"

Luckily Marron's not the cleverest of clever girls, Pyrene. She doesn't get that little hint-hint, nudge-nudge stuff. "Me? Nah, seems like my only option is to be a mere weyrfolk," she replies. "S'not that bad. Kind of boring.." Yes, you did say that, Gekoki.

Pyrene ignores Gekoki's comments. Heh. Instead she smirks at Mharida, "So... you've got nothing to do? You could be an assistant nanny then! Oh, now don't thank me... really, we'd love to have another one..." Can Pyrene still hire people? Well, she's going to anyway.

Marron widens her eyes slowly, blinking, stopping her stomping of the "Really?" she asks in a louder tone. Sure.. it's fun now. Just wait 'til those brats start tying you up above the hearth and prodding you with bubblies. "I'd love to!"

Did she? Geko wasn't sure everyone heard her the first time. What about the second time? Judging by Pyrene's lack of reaction, she was evidently not loud enough. She gathers a breath for a third time. "DID I MEN-" she stops, puzzled by Pyrene's words just now. A new assistant nanny? Aren't there enough that don't seem to think her knot makes any difference in how she's treated? Turning stiffly to Marran, she mutters, "Don't think that you can treat me any differently now that you're an assistant for Pyrene." Treating her better would make more sense, wouldn't it?

What was that? Pyrene stares at Marron. "Sorry? You... Oh, alright then." Somehow a willing acceptance takes the fun out of it. "And she's not my assistant Geko. i'm not a nanny right now after all... Hmm... you know, it's cold out here isn't it?"

"Well, you sure /seem/ like a brat," Marron comments bluntly, grinning quickly. Don't worry, she's usually nice with brats - or - bigger.. brats.. "It is rather cold," she agrees, shifting her weight.

Gekoki considers that for a second, until Pyrene brings up the temperature. Whatever nice thing she was about to say about Pyrene and her surety of Impressing a dragon and never having to worry about brats again flies clean out of her head as she glares at Pyrene some more...

Pyrene beams fondly at Geko. "Want to come inside then all? I suppose we ought to find somebody to properly promote you Marron. It is Marron isn't it?" She's heard the name from somewhere.

[We take pity on Geko's thin skin and move to the Living Caverns]

Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Tucked into a glowlit niche are Kate, Sin, Satu, Ceinwen, Brannt, Tangaloor, Fandango, Kelpie, Azule, Poldhu, Beats, Rappa, Bow-Wow, Artu, Boingy, Nocturno, Quenn, Tirone, Strawberry, Yolk, and Oren.
You see Delphin, Bubbly Pie, Kali, Fantastic Triple Layer Bubbly Surprise, Dustina, Tsunami Banner, Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, Decorative Laundry, Mika, and No Longer Dangling Wine Flasks here.
Khia is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchens Inner Caverns Crafting Area

Tyara walks briskly in from the Central Bowl.

Gekoki steps quietly in from the Central Bowl.

Message 32 of 32 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Fri Nov 26 16:55:28 1999 CST
From: Pyrene (#11964)
Subject: And another!

Well, in a little burst of promotion frenzy (or sadism), Pyrene stopped Marron in the central bowl and suggested that she be an assistant nanny. Strangely, Marron accepted... whether or not Pyrene actually /can/ hire people anymore is doubtful... but Marron's got a new knot in one way or another. Give her odd looks--she wanted this!
Pyrene, evil not-presently-head nanny, getting confused.
--------------------------

Mharida arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Gekoki had thought that Pyrene would never get around to actually coming inside. She prances about in the nice warm caverns, saying such things as "Brrr," and "Shards but it's cold out there." After the mild expletive, she covers her mouth breifly and looks about to check that no one heard it...

Pyrene doesn't stop...except to snag someredfruit juice--but heads off and into the caverns. Busy.

Pyrene goes home.

Tyara is sitting near the hearth, doing the final stitches on her Candidate robe.

Message 32 of 32 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Fri Nov 26 16:55:28 1999 CST
From: Pyrene (#11964)
Subject: And another!

Well, in a little burst of promotion frenzy (or sadism), Pyrene stopped Marron in the central bowl and suggested that she be an assistant nanny. Strangely, Marron accepted... whether or not Pyrene actually /can/ hire people anymore is doubtful... but Marron's got a new knot in one way or another. Give her odd looks--she wanted this!
Pyrene, evil not-presently-head nanny, getting confused.

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