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 Tuesday, October 30th, 2001 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.

Upper Alpine Meadows
A vast alpine meadow stretches to the foot a glacier, flanked by the flat reach of a dozen more peaks; snow lurks at the higher elevations, capping the valleys in thick, endless layers of ice and new-fallen flakes. In contrast, during the spring and summer months a carpet of wildflowers spreads over a base of springy green turf, perfect for picnics and days outdoors. A small stream runs off towards the distant weyr, running cool and clear from out of the nearby blue-toned glacier.

Shaiyun wanders on in from the lower meadows.

Pyrene is perched on one of Cadge's forlegs, with the silvery tail curled around to provide a footrest. Near the pair is a bush that already has a few early berries on it... and Pyrene's eating these before anybody else finds them. Thus, she ignores Shaiyun's entrance although Cadge takes the time to croon at him.

Shaiyun, for him, looks relatively normal despite the huge red and green checked shawl that muffles his throat and face and the saucepan on his head. "Hiya Cadgwith," he greets happily, waving his large and knobbly 'sword' at her. "Hiya Pyrene. You shouldn't eat those berries, y'know, cause if you eat too many, they make you poo runny." he nods sagely.

Cadgwith has stopped blowing the grass to admire the waves it makes. Shaiyun's /far/ more fascinating. Her nose reaches out delicately, trying to prod at the helmet without bowling the lad over. Pyrene twitches slightly, not looking up. "Scor--oh, leave me alone. Didn't anybody ever teach you to be respectful to your el--" she turns around at this point and trails off staring blankly at the apparition,

Shaiyun cranes his head to peer industriously at Cadgwith, and more importantly, at Cadgwith's nostril. "Hiya," he says again, reaching out the stickless hand to venture a pat. "You're not /old/, missus Pyrene, yer just..." he searches for the right word, fails to find it, and concludes: "older'n some people. S'not a /bad/ fing." he wanders over without invitation, righting his helmet and trying to swagger without tripping over the shawl's tassled ends. "I'm practisin' for bein' Weyrleader."

Nylanth lands gently despite the buffeting winds above.

Pyrene eyes the boy flatly. "I'm an adult, and therefore you should respect me. I never said I was /old/." Cadge gives another croon suddenly, this one directed upwards, and her rider looks around in time to see the Weyrleader land. "And aha. Here's our current weyrleader. Who, may I point out is not wearing a pan on his head." That said, she gives Gid a genuine smile. Cadge goes back to whuffling around the engaging child.

Shaiyun
Freckles sparsely dot this boy's pink-cheeked pallor; effeminacy and easy charm mingled within his tapering frame, bordering on the waifish in middling height, with dark brows cut over large grey eyes and an aquiline nose cast over that near feminine curve of his wide mouth. Sun-burnished brown and copper hair curls thickly to the nape of his neck, creating a frame for which that mellow, fruity-voiced tenor is but the varnish.
Checkered in blue and grubby white, a baggy cotton shirt leaves his skinny arms bare, and hides the waistband of brown corduroy pants in it's many-pocketed folds. A pair of well scuffed brown boots are going grey at the toes, a little large for him by the looks of them.
Grubby and grimy, the knot that tangles his shoulder is just about recognisable in the blue and black of High Reaches Weyr.
Beshawled in a huge and tassled red and green checked load of material, Shaiyun cuts a less than dignified figure with his helmet - a shiny saucepan - and his sword, a knobbly broom handle.
He is awake and looks alert.
Shaiyun is 9 Turns, 4 months, and 7 days old.

Shaiyun swivels his head to peer up, and up over Nylanth at G'deon, and then he blinks at the Weyrleader's panless state. "I can lend 'im mine if he's lost it," the boy offers helpfully, trying without success to swish his shawl - his manly mantle - at Cadgwith. "Don' get booger on me, will ya Cadgwith, cause I don' think that's verra stylish. Do you need a nosepick?"

From Nylanth's bronzen neck, G'deon laughs as he unbuckles his riding belt and begins to slide from Nylanth's shoulders, giving the bronze a quick pat on one forearm when he lands. "What's this? Pyrene old? Never! And a pan??" This current weyrleader is currently quite confused. More than usual, that is. "Hey there, Pyrene. How are you and Cadgwith doing?" His lifemate in the meantime offers a friendly croon towards the gold in his own quiet greeting.

G'deon slides from Nylanth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

"She rose recently," Pyrene comments, attempting to make it sound off the cuff. "You weren't around. And this is just Shaiyun. Thinks he's weyrleader." Her eyes roll, expressively disclaiming all responsibility for the lad. Cadgwith, utterly booger-less, nips at the shawl, wondering if this is the point of the game. She's seen the brats playing tug of war before.

And who'd win, in a tug-of-war between Cadgwith and Shaiyun? The boy wisely doesn't even /try/ and snatch it away from the dragon, although he gives her nostril a gentle poke with his 'sword'. "Don' tear it, Cadgwith, cause then I'll /really/ catch it." he widens his eyes, big and innocent at Pyrene. "Not Weyrleader /yet/, cause I don' have a dragon, sil - er, missus weyrwoman, but when I Impress, /then/ I'll be Weyrleader." he subjects a nostril to some serious excavation work, then, still probing, announces calmly: "An' you'll be my Weyrwoman, cause Cadgwith's gold."

"Oh, well yeah, he's the weyrleader who wears pans on his head, and I'm... the one who doesn't." Simple enough, or so G'deon thinks. He then grins over at Pyrene and shrugs a little. "Yeah, I heard Druseth flew... it went well I hope?" As long as you don't ask P'rru about it anyway. He peers once more at Shaiyun, but just shrugs and grins again. "So what are you two doing up here?"

Pyrene nods quietly. "Lylia's nice. Better than B'art anyway. Cadge never does seem to get influenced by me though." Cadge pays her rider no heed, dropping the shawl in surprise as a stick finds its way up her nose. The gold pulls her head back and sneezes.... all over the berry bush. "Cadge! Shaiyun!" Pyrene wails. "Kids..." she grumbles to Gid. "Some people have them and don't know how to raise them...."

"It'll stop you from getting runny poop." Shaiyun takes the despoiling of the bush with pragmatic calm, studying the end of his stick for dragon booger. "Anyway, she's yer dragon, so her snot is your snot." he turns appealing eyes onto G'deon, "right, mister Weyrleader?"

G'deon laughs again and shakes his head woefully. "Indeed. It's a good thing we have such excellent nannies," he teases the gold rider lightly before turning decidedly undisturbed blue eyes on Shaiyun. "Well, no actually, I'd say it's Cadgwith's... and it should probably stay where it is, don't you think?" He gives the boy a quick wink and shrugs. "I mean, you wouldn't want someone to poke you with that, would you?"

Pyrene clenches her fists. "I'll give you a demonstration of what it feels like to have that thing shoved up your nose," she mutters hotly. "The weyr /had/ exellent nannies, Gid... I can't believe Tyara's let the quality slip to produce a monster like this." Never mind Kolen and Swawa. Products of her regime. Cadge looks faintly bemused by the proceedings, but keeps her nose at a safe altitude.

"I don't /think/ it'd fit up my nose, sir, cause Cadgwith's got real big nostrils an' I haven't." he beams at G'deon, at Pyrene, and then at Cadgwith. "Cadgwith's got nice nostrils. They're like little caverns. An' I don't /think/ she'd mind if I had a bit of her boogers, cause dragon booger, s'long as it's not too runny, is great ammo for snot fights." It's an upgrade on food fight.
That was Shaiyun. Honest.

G'deon arches a brow at Shaiyun and just shakes his head again and glances at Pyrene, his eyes twinkling softly. "Perhaps Tyara just uses different... techniques? I really have no idea, I've never tried raising a child before," be adds with a bemused expression. And he'll have to try ignoring the lad's further comments. He did just eat, after all.

"I'll make it fit," Pyrene growls. However, she's slightly mollified by the compliment to Cadge's nostrils of all things. After all, every part of Cadge is perfect. "And I'll have you know, young man, that real bronzeriders don't have snot-fights. Ever. Right, Gid?" She falls back on her own method of childraising... lies at all corners. Throwing a wry look to the Weyrleader she comments bitterly "I suppose you and Ilare will burden the nannies with your kids then?"

Shaiyun blinks, off-kilter, and eyes G'deon. "Y'don't have snot fights? Then what /do/ you do all day?" he asks incredulously, turning his grubby-nosed face towards Pyrene. "An' I don't have to worry till I Impress, cause that's when I'll be a /real/ bronzerider. Right, Cadgwith?" he gives Nylanth a speculative glance, trying to check out the nostril-potential. "Does your dragon have booger, sir?"

"Snot fights? No, never," G'deon is quick to answer. "Food fights though... that's a totally different story. And I read and write all day, mostly, and argue with stubborn cotholders and weyr crafters and figure out tithes and flights and sweeps. And bronze dragons do not have boogers," he says with all seriousness before grinning at Shaiyun again and finally pulls his light riding gloves from his hands, tucking them behind his belt. "Um... not anytime soon," is then added in Pyrene's direction. "Ilare isn't too keen on kids, y'see. So... I don't know. Maybe we won't, maybe we will. It's up to her, don't you think?"

Cadgwith gives Shaiyun a sort of amused look that suggests she'd reserve a bronze egg for him if she could... If only to see the results. She keeps her nose out of reach though. She doesn't mind him having her boogers as long as he doesn't try to get them from the source. "People who have snotfights do not Impress bronze," Pyrene tells the child solemnly, apparently of a different mind to her dragon on this point. "You want kids?" she asks G'deon in surprise, before flushing and adding: "Well, surely Ilare should take your wishes into account to some extent...." Said the pot of the kettle.

"They don't?" Shaiyun stares at G'deon, then stares at Nylanth with something resembling pity in his eyes. "Hear that, Cadgwith? He," he points at Nylanth, "doesn't have any boogers. I bet you could give him some though. S'not fair, a big bronze like him not havin' any boogers. I bet he must feel /real/ sad about it, right, sir?" he peers beyond Pyrene at the snot-berry bush, then shifts his gaze back to the goldrider, all solemnity. "Then I won't have a snotfight /all/ through bein' a candidate, an' then I'll Impress, an' my bronze'll fly Cadgwith an' I'll be Weyrleader, cause Areiah'll be too old."

G'deon shakes his head slowly as he gives Pyrene an almost sad expression. "No, I don't think so. I tried the other day. To talk to her about it, I mean, and she was pretty diligent about not having children for a long time, so... I'll just have to wait." He then gives Shaiyun a wry look out of the corners of his eyes with a "No, I don't think Nyls is sad about that at all," and gives the gold rider a wink. "But maybe that's not such a bad thing. Surely the Weyr doesn't need any of my rogue children running about."

"She's only four turns older than me!" Pyrene protests. "I'll probably never be Sr Weyrwoman, y'know... Shaela's younger than I am. Suck up to her instead." Yes, palm her troubles off on Shaela. It'll actually work one of these days. G'deon just gets an uncertain shrug. "Well, considering your weyrmates and she's supposed to love you... It's a bit selfish of her." Cadge tilts her head at her rider suddenly, eyes tinged with lilac.

"I like Cadgwith more'n Chayath." Shaiyun says calmly, adjusting his 'helmet' again. "But I guess I can go'n see if Chayath's got nostrils as nice as Cadgwith's," he peers up at the gold, altering his gaze to fit Nylanth there as well, then offers: "Nylanth's got a nice pair o' snotpots as well, sir. Pity about the no booger thing, but..." he gives lopsided shrug that nearly tumbles his shawl, and ambles away from them, pausing occasionally to slash at an erring piece of ground.

G'deon blinks at Pyrene once and quite unhelpfully shrugs. "I guess I hadn't thought of that. But no, I don't think she's being selfish exactly. She's the one who has to actually bear the children, so if she's not ready, that's all there is to it." And with that he turns to peer quizzically at Shaiyun as the boy wanders off. "What /is/ the fascination with that??" he asks, of no one in particular

Pyrene stares after Shaiyun, fighting the urge to assure him that Chayath can't possibly have as lovely nostrils as Cadgwith. "Cadge, you've got to stop encouraging him," she mutters, confusing the gold further. What did she do? "She might never be ready, Gid," she adds slowly. "Pregnancy's a scary thing--if you've never done it before. But well, if you want kids... she shouldn't stop you having them." Cadge lowers her head with a sudden odd croon and Pyrene turns away from G'deon to her dragon, making soothing noises.

G'deon shrugs lightly with an obvious lack of commitment. "Well, in a way, Pyrene, I suppose you're right. It's frustrating in a way." He laughs softly as Nylanth moves a little closer, nudging Gid with the side of his tail. "Ah, forget it. If it happens, it happens I suppose. Though I'd like to /be/ there for the child, you know? I don't want to just hand it off to a nanny and be done with it." With a suddenly roguish grin he gives Pyrene a quick glance. "You've been a nanny /and/ a mother now. So what do you think, am I up to the task? Is Ilare so I can tell her an expert said so?"

Pyrene flounders suddenly, thrown off guard. "Ilare.. she's so..." Young? Older than many girls with their first children. Leaning against Cadge's nose for a moment, she finally says. "Probably best not to push her into anything though. She'll know best." With an effort she straightens her shoulders and turns around to face him, composed if wan. "I'm sure you'd make a good father though, Gid." She smiles weakly at him, but goes no further.

With a rather dry smile, G'deon nods again, leaning against his lifemate's shoulder as Nylanth settles to the ground, eyes closing lazily. "Aye... you're probably right. I mean, she'd hardly be happy if it was what she really didn't want." At Pyrene's second comment he turns to her with a beaming smile. "Ye think so? Well, thank you." But he hesitates then, frowning slightly. "Are you all right, Pyrene?" he asks, voice sounding genuinely worried.

Pyrene sits down on the grass, leaning against Cadgwith and hugging her knees. "I'm fine... look at Cadge," she points out. Indeed the gold is looking placid now, her eyes contentedly blue-green after a rather convoluted rationalisation from her rider. "Just a little put out by Shaiyun, is all."

"Ah, I don't blame you there," G'deon replies quickly, shoulders hunching in a very non-hero-bronzelike manner. "Was I ever that bad?" he asks, grinning, though he came to the Weyr a handful of Turns older than Shaiyun. Gid hesitates again, fingers rubbing idly at a spot on Nylanth's neck, bringing a delighted green hue to his single-lidded eyes.

"Never," Pyrene avers. "Although granted, I didn't have a dragon then, so maybe you just didn't have sufficient opportunity to annoy me. But I don't remember you ever annoying me." One way of putting it.

G'deon laughs, a soft glimmer to his eyes as he gives Pyrene an amused look. "Well, that's reassuring at least. I do remember stirring up a little bit of trouble now and then. But who hasn't?" That's it, safety in numbers. Gid gives another little chuckle and shakes his head slightly. "I remember telling the weyrbrats a night time story that quite unintentionally gave them nightmares for a sevenday." Ahh, the good ol' days when you didn't have to be responsible.

Pyrene coughs dryly. "Yes, I do remember that now you mention it." Her eyes sparkle at him. "Maybe you do owe me a favour or two for that one."

"Perhaps," G'deon replies, winking at the other rider. "You'll just have to remember to /ask/ for a favor or two. I'm no good at reading minds, trust me."

Pyrene isn't sure whether she's glad or sorry about that. "I'll be sure to let you know," she says, an odd tone to her voice suddenly. "Same goes to you, y'know... Any favour I can do for you, I'd be happy to. For old times sake." She smiles at him again, wistful.

G'deon flashes another one of those cheerful but decidedly roguish grins and nods to Pyrene. "Sounds like a pretty good plan to me." He's pulled out of the spree down memory lane however by a quick snort from Nylanth, bringing a faint scowl to Gid's face. "Not that wherry-headed holder again," he mutters before giving Pyrene an apologetic look. "I'm afraid this short trip for fresh air has been called short. "I have an 'urgent' meeting to attend." As much scorn attached to the adjective as possible. "I'll see you around, Pyrene. Clear skies to you and Cadge." Then he's back up to Nylanth's shoulders in a couple quick jumps.
G'deon ascends with practiced steps up to Nylanth's bronzen neck and settles in between two neckridges.

Pyrene waves after Gid, Cadge sending up an affirming croon. "Clear skies, Gid!" she calls, grinning more easily now.

Nylanth bunches powerful muscles, wings pumping with strength, before leaping into the air.