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 Wednesday 1st December, 1999, for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
A Change in the Odds
[More RP post-Ysbryth's Hatching. The first and only time I played with
Tellia during candidacy. The poor girl had RL step in and drop her activity, but
this one session was more than spiff enough for me.]
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, Rappa, Bow-Wow, Artu, Boingy, Nocturno, Quenn, Yolk, Wilt, Cheep, Lava, Spire, Felvis, Dogma, Tigger, Poldhu, and Taybi.
You see Delphin, Kali, Fantastic Triple Layer Bubbly Surprise, Dustina, Tsunami Banner, Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, Mika, No Longer Dangling Wine Flasks, and Fluffernut here.
Tellia is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchens Inner Caverns Crafting Area
Pyrene slinks in, eyes scanning for potential chore-givers. Spotting only a fellow slave, she ventures across the room and into a chair, soothing the grumbling lizard on her shoulder. "Hello..." she sighs wearily in the classic 'why does the world even bother to continue to exist' tone.
Tellia
Short blonde tresses flow down toward the girl's shoulders, their golden color shining and shimmering in the light. Baby blue eyes peek out from under the long bangs, rarely without crinkling into a warm smile. Her naturally pink lips are almost permanently locked in some sort of grin, whether it's for a good friend, a mere aquaintance, or a total stranger. Her fingers are long and as slender as the rest of her body, ending in nails cut short but well trimmed from a lifetime of working with animals.
The girl's current attire is obviously her 'working outfit'. The plain klah-colored tunic is smudged with dirty streaks, and usually has quite a bit of unidentifiable gook clinging here or there. Trousers every bit as plain and dirty show beneath the tunic, rolled up several times to fit the rather short legs. The indentation of a belt shows through the top, hinting at the size of the waistband below. Boots apparently cover the girl's feet, though these are so coated in dirt they're almost unrecognizable. As a Candidate, the girl's been in every dirty nook and cranny of the Weyr, and it shows on her clothes. Kwanice gives you an icy stare from her perch on Tellia. Perched on Tellia's shoulder is Zephyr, wings half-spread and glittering brightly. Draccie is sitting calmly on Tellia's shoulder, tiny teeth just a nibble away from her ear.
The knot resting on the girl's shoulder is a twist of yellow and white cord, looped once and pinned to the tunic beneath. This shows anyone with a decent knowledge of knots that she's a Herder Apprentice without a post. A plain white cord is twisted beside it, a symbol of her Candie-hood at High Reaches.
She is awake and looks alert.
Tellia is 17 Turns, 11 months, and 12 days old.
Tellia forces a weak, sympathetic smile to her face. "Hi, Pyrene. Hard day?" As if any day here /isn't/ somewhat on the hard side... Of course, Apprenticeship at the Hall was no better. "Have a meatroll! I can vouch that that bowl, at least, is good." She flicks a hand toward the half-eaten meatroll on a table, then toward the bowl it came from. Yup, good food there...
Pyrene reaches out for a meatroll and lets Gunwalloe sniff it. And then devour it quickly--which of course get's Poldhu's attention. "Wal and Pol seem to like them yeah..." Pyrene observes with a yawn. "And yes... hard day."
Liseria arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Tellia grins softly at the 'lizzen attacking food, casting a weary glance to her own sated pets. "'Afternoon, Lis!" she greets, raising one hand in a quick wave. "How's it going?"
Pyrene glances around at Tellia's greeting and gives Liseria the benefit of a yawn. "H'lo... Come and join us and make the most of no chores... or do you have one?" In which case, get away from them--that sort of thing's contagious!
"Mmph. Chores." Lis is reduced to uttering gutteral sentence fragments as she scurries in, an ancient stained apron tied over her usual garments. "The kitchen people are busy, so they needed me to clear the tables." All this is explained as the girl swoops over the tables and steals away flatware towards the kitchens. Talented, isn't she?
Pyrene groans and huddles in her chair, Wal flaring his wings as if to hide her from the sheer horror of chores. But, Pyrene has acquired some sort of fellowship with the candidates over the past few sevendays, and this prompts her to ask reluctantly: "Do you need any help there Lis?"
Kelpie lumps in his usual place in the corner niche, his pudgy body cutely squashed into it. At the word kitchen, he raises his little brown muzzle. Kitchen equals food. mmmm. Food.
Tellia presses her lips tightly together, refusing to offer help, though a sypathetic look does find its way to the working Candie. Instead, her attention is turned to the half-eaten meatroll - Oh. Not half-eaten anymore... Several sated 'lizards rest where it used to be... - and then to the bowl. Grabbing one more, she takes a small bite. Meatrolls - yum!
Liseria gives Tellia a smirk-look before she grins lopsidedly at Pyrene; she has help, now does she? "Oh Pyrene, you're too kind," comes Lis' humble comment. "Just pick up the plates and stroll by the kitchen. They'll be someone to take them." The girl nods her head that direction, where the ocassional Candidate head can be seen popping out of the doorway.
Pyrene sighs. Lis was supposed to say 'Oh, thank-you so much for the offer, that's terribly sweet of you, but I can manage.' Still, she dredges herself out of her seat, flicking a meatroll scrap towards Kelpie and scoops up some plates, pacing slowly over to the kitchen to hand them over.
Kelpie warbles in thanks to the grumpy nanny, his cute little snout opening wide in a yawn before he all but drops to the floor to snatch the meatroll, his wings barely catching him before he hits.
Pyrene isn't a nanny. And won't be until the eggs hatch, dangit. Maybe afterwards, but only maybe. Some hopes in life, you just have to cling to. "Tellia... you sure you don't want to help?" she asks the other candidate too-sweetly. "I mean, it's /so/ much fun and all, and there's plenty of plates to go around, I wouldn't want to deprive you."
Tellia snuggles down deeper in her chair, meatroll held protectively near her face. Won't get her out of her chair for any chore not /specifically/ assigned to her. Plenty of work to do as it is! "Umm, I'm still using this one," she murmurs quietly, tapping the mug next to her chair. Her eyes flick to the side, widening momentarily as she realizes how arrogant that could sound. "Finally got a break..." she mutters toward Pyrene. Not much of an excuse, but it'll have to do.
Liseria turns her good-natured smirk now on Pyrene, then Kelpie. Smirksmirksmirk. Laden like a barmaid, the girl wrestles on last plate from under the unconcious form a rider - you'd think they'd learn not to fall asleep in their food - before dropping her load off at the kitchen. In a smirking mood today, the Candidate watches a much younger one stagger away under the burden she just dropped on him before stalking off in an industrious way, leaving the suckering to Pyrene. Menial work doesn't take so much precious brainpower.
Pyrene had a break too, and like a wherry she blew it. "/How/ can you look so cheerful, Lis? They're working us like burdenbeasts, there are only 22 eggs left and I'm on laundry duty with Ewyrpin tomorrow!" That last may not affect Lis, but it's so devastating that all of Pern should rock with sympathy. Tellia gets a pathetic look thrown at her too. Pyrene's in this state and she won't help? Cruel world...
Tellia grins. "Aww, don't feel so bad, Pyre! Look on the bright side - there are still 22 eggs gonna Hatch any day now. And you're a Candidate. Trust me, the world could get a lot worse..." The girl suddenly cuts off, dropping her eyes to the mug in her hands. She's seen the world worse... Glancing back up, she changes the subject slightly. "And anyway, the work's no worse than chores at the Hall always were."
Pyrene glances at Tellia oddly at the change of subject. She rarely complains so loudly that she misses gossip. "You OK there Tel? And yes... the work's not as bad as nannying." She's spent turns maintaining this, she's not going to back down just because she's a candidate this time.
Tiri arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
"Yeah Pyrene!" Lis chimes in with a 'lizard-like trill. "Just think, there's less Candidates to have to fight through this time." And no more Ditzee, Lis adds to herself. Unfortunately, this also means the girl's riding green. Ditzee and Threadfall doesn't seem like a good idea to Lis. "Still," she adds, lifting a klah-encrusted mug from the table. "It wasn't much fun being left on the Sands. Again."
Tiri walks in. She's back to normal, not sick any more so the Candies are no longer in danger of getting the deadly Tiri's Cold. On her way towards the crowd of Candidates, she snags a mug of klah and begins gulping it down. "Mmmm?" she asks, overhearing
Liseria.
Pyrene looks vaguely relieved that Tiri's no longer contaminated. "There's more if you think about it Lis..." she points out to the girl half-absently. "Before it was 70-odd of us for 47 eggs. Now it's about 50 for 22. Those of us left have a less than 50% chance of Impression, you know." The curse of gambling has finally hit Pyrene. She's all too aware of her chances now.
Liseria hands more crusty, disgusting silverware to a nose-wrinkling girl in the kitchen. It's Ditzee 2, it seems. "Um, well..." Math escapes Lis, the girl having enough trouble with star studies as it is. "/Still/. At least we're not it Ditzee's weyrling class. She's an accident waiting to happen, her and Blondeth!" Nearly gored Lis, that green did.
Tellia frowns. "Don't the ones who Impress Chayath's babies join that class? They aren't /that/ much older... are they?" She pauses, cocking her head in an attempt to count time and predict the future Hatching at once. "Blondeth's cute, though." Of course, /any/ green - any dragon - would seem cute to Tells right now...
Pyrene nods solemnly to Liseria. "We'll just be in the barracks with dragons smaller than Blondeth--and that's if we're lucky." Don't try and get Pyrene out of her pessimism.
Tiri rubs her chin. "Blondeth? Impressed to Ditzee? /Why/ do I think those two fit together so well??" She's not being sarcastic, just dense. Feel lucky that she's not as dense as Ditzee. "And /why/ would that girl Impress. Think of her in a Thread fight! She'd be scored everytime she came out of between!"
Tellia shakes her head at Tiri, face taking on a stern lecturing expression. "Now, now. Every dragon knows her choice and will choose the Candidate best for them. The dragons know much better than us who will and will not make a good dragonrider." How many times has she heard /that/ one from the riders?
"Blondeth's /dangerous/," Lis corrects gently as she pries a fork out of age-old detrius. "But somehow, she missed sinking her claws into me and landed in front of Ditzee." The girl recounts her perilous Standing with a dramatic sigh. "Aye, dragons choose who they will." Same line she used when someone asked about Ditzee being Searched.
Tiri rolls her eyes at Tellia and snickers. "You're starting to sound like /D'renn/. And that's saying something!" she teases. She just hopes that no dragonriders are around to hear that. Trouble? Oh, yeah. "Dangerous? Haw! I /knew/ dragons will eat people!"
Pyrene winces at Liseria. "Really? I barely saw as much as a tail of a dragon. Not one came over my way--I'm going to have words with D'renn if he /did/ Search me for a joke." Unfortunately, that kind of thing is hard to prove. With one last load of plates she decides that there /must/ be something else for her to do and she mumbles some excuse and heads out.
Pyrene goes home.
Tellia chuckles softly. "Now, nobody got eaten!" She pauses, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Wait a minute. Me? Sound like /D'renn/?!" Another pause, this time ending with a bright smile. "You mean I should be a rider?" Well, /that/'s looking at the bright side...
