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 Saturday, September 16th 2000 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
Being Tapped for a Wing
Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is an autumn midmorning. The sun continues to rise to the top of the sky, the fiery orb casting warmth and cheer to the crisp morning air. The sky is a deep, pale blue, and the air is cool, almost cold, hinting at winter to come.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Zhaneel, Vanitas, Antietam, Tremayne, Immie, Archimedes, Sentanta, Gavin, Gyahaahaa, Wyrre, Wilt, Foster, Archer, Marp, and Infinity.
Brown Revnath, green Nekomieth, bronze Nhamarath, and gold Cadgwith are here.
You see a wagonmaster and Nimbus here.
Auri is here.
Obvious exits:
Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ
Auri
Long shapely legs flow into full hips and melt into curvy waist, showing that, indeed, Auri has developed that perfect hourglass figure that little body has always promised, with rounds and a bust that rivals even Lis. Still, the totality of the frame is still decidedly petite, and sweet childlike face is almost unchanged. The epitome of innocence times three, she is lightly tainted by just a pinch of maturity dispersed about her features. Cherubic heart-shaped face has slightly elongated, but the single dimple on her right cheek, rosy cheeks, and pouty, pink, full lips remain untouched. Snub nose seems to have lengthened as well, though the mischievious lilt is still there. A pair of huge, liquid cerulean eyes take up half her face, deceptively demure, lined with thick dark lashes. Bountiful locks of gold curls, a cascade of shining sunlight, frame her round face and flow down past her shoulders, twisty locks a perfect summary of a bouncy, curvy, happy appearance.
Sugary saccharine cotton candy pink oozes down Auri, trickling down her plump little body in tight magenta leathers, emphasizing curves: swishy pants and a tight fitting top that cuts off couple inches down from her neck, to reveal all of her shoulders. White riding gloves reach all the way up to her elbows, crisp and impeccably clean, while white weyrhide boots with teeter totter heels do the same up to her knees. She also carries a snug fitting riding jacket of white, shiny silver buttons parading down the front. Auri's Basket hangs heavily from Auri's shoulder.
Glossy ebony of starless night twirls sweetly with dreamy daytime sky blue, outlined by silver gleams and a thin ribbon of green sneaking through oh so subtly. Underneath, a crest of a wave on a badge, dubbing Auri a Tsunami greenrider for the 'Reaches.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Auri's Basket
Auri is 16 Turns, 1 month, and 18 days old.
Pyrene suddenly appears, alerted by Cadge. "Auri...?" she asks tentatively. A post-flight Auri... an unimaginable thought. "How're you and Miravith?" And Iri and
Sriath....
Etain steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
Auri beams happily at Pyrene, events of yesterday seemingly blurred away by that potent screwdriver given to her by her well meaning (ahem) friends. "I'm fine thank you so much for asking and how are you?" she chirps to Pyrene. Her face falls just the slightest bit at the mention of Miravith. "Mira's...Mira..." she says softly, looking at the green who is currently eyeing certain dragons with a particularly murderous air.
Etain gives Auri and Py a bit of a nod, continuing to head in the same direction,
Etain paddles in with her usual clumsy silence. to the Lakeside.
Pyrene grins faintly at Miravith. "Oh... good," she decides. At least she's not trying to eat Pyrene for a change. "So, you survived your first flight. Wasn't that bad, was it?" Was it??
<All> Cadgwith senses that Tiareth stretches out fingerlings of gold, darting this way and that in little unschooled thoughts.
Cadgwith senses Tiareth swirls around you, an eddying tide, and then drifts away again taking your Rider's location with her. to her.
Nuff meanders in from the north.
Nuff
Obnoxious gold ringlets tumble down around this rosy-cheeked cherub in a perfectly divine halo of treacle and amber. If not truly angelic, at least she may look the seraph's part from broody heather-violet eyes to bottled-sunlight smile; age is resettling generous amounts of flesh about chest and hips, and chin, and thighs, and toes, and ankles, and...
Off-kilter from the too-short leg-hugging hem constantly at war with Nuff's shredding fingers, to the ridiculously capped sleeves that burst from the rounded neckline like puffs of purple pastry, the entire outfit just seems /odd/. Woven from light cotton, its made near-psychedelic by the uneven criss-crossing of bright lines: purple, lavender, lilac, magenta, violet, indigo, and good ol' Istan orange; you'd have to be blind to miss Nuff a'coming. Big rhine-stone dappled pockets in the same bright shades scatter down the sides and front, filled with a myriad of treasures you really don't want to know about.
She is awake and looks alert.
Nuff is 40 Turns, 7 months, and 11 days old.
You notice Nuff looking at you.
Cadgwith thinks to you, << I bespoke Tiareth with: Cadgwith swirls her own waves back, surf pounding after would-be paddlers before lulling to calm again. Tiareth and Tiareth's. to her. >>
Cadgwith senses Tiareth claims only her own, as the sea calls those daring enough to test her, and treasures every touch. to her.
Nuff is the Nuff of legends, small and round and laughing, with cookie crumbs on her tunic and purple sequins in her curls. The Fish -- infamous and brilliant -- nestles uneasily against the weyrwoman's plump neck with one talon curled like a memory around Nuff's ear. "There you are", says the Nuff happily, nodding first to Pyrene and then Auri. "Congradulations, Riders."
Cadgwith thinks to you, << I bespoke Tiareth with: Cadgwith denies herself to be anybody's... barring Pyrene who is as much the possessed as the possessor. But Tiareth she will accept... the old gold is one of the few things in the weyr still bigger than her after all. to her. >>
Seraphina walks in.
Cadgwith senses Tiareth recognizes herself, reflected back in sea-brine and salt -- her sunlight submerged with sargassum, her spice burnt raw and sharp. She says nothing, merely accepting, and drifts in the safe harbors of her Nuff. to her.
Pyrene turns her face towards Nuff, the vaguely nervous and concerned expression turning into an impish wink. "Congratulations for what? We graduated a while ago... Or do you mean the flights? Not that Cadge has gone up yet..." She sneaks a peek at the gold, just in case she's started glowing in the past few minutes. Catching sight of Seraphina in the course of doing so, she waves. She's friendly, see?
Seraphina
A crown of long, thick tresses, the color of firelight on mahagony, are generally the most attention grabbing thing about Seraphina. They are usually gathered in a loose pile at the crown of her head, with loose, thin tendrils falling down into her eyes. And that is her second most outstanding feature. Her eyes, a shade of light blue to match the sky on a clear summer day, form an interesting constrast to her flaming halo of hair, as they peep out from under impish auburn lashes. As for her other features, her skin is a creamy white, with a tendancy towards freckles when too long in the sun. She's also probably one of the shortest people you'll ever meet, standing under five feet in total height, which gives her the apperance, coupled with her cute little face, of being younger than she truly is.
She is garbed in a dress sown with green, red, and gold material, with an off the shoulder sleeveless top. It is gathered about the waist with a red and gold ribbon, and the skirt falls to the ground, spreading out behind her with just the hint of a train.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.
Seraphina is 17 Turns, 1 month, and 15 days old.
Nuff grins back, "So I've heard, so I've heard. But I am still catching up on my congradulations, for new Riders and their Wings." She too nods to Seraphina, the nod of one well used to nodding -- greeting -- and generally accepting visitors into the weyr. "Which reminds me, Pyrene. Weyrwoman. I've something for you." Now to search her many pockets for something other than cookies.
Seraphina walks quietly into the Bowl, her skirts making the barest sound as she passes, taking it all in for a second. And then everything changes. Her eyes suddenly come alive with emotion, and her quiet, dignifed stride becomes bouncy and cheerful as she acknowleges the wave in a friendly manner. "Good day," she calls as she passes, noting that they are in conversation and not wanting to interrupt.
Seraphina walks to the Caverns.
Pyrene wants a cookie actually. Cookies are nice on a summer's day. Or a sweetstick, with all the nostalgia that accompanies them. Not the best nostalgia, but nostalgia's always cosy. "Not a chore then?" she checks. Chores don't normally come in pockets.
The look Nuff raises is high-browed and wide-smiled, "Nope, not a chore. Well, the token of things to do, I suppose, but no more than that." She fishes through string and fluff, crumbs, pins, needles, an odd purple sock, and eventually drags out a fanciful patch of brocade: black and blue, the 'Reaches ensignia is stitched with Esprit Wing's resounding call -- Con Spiritos! Not only does it mean 'With Spirit', it harkens a reminder to the plotting and planning of the Weyr's weyrwomen, and their assorted conspiracies. "Ah, here it is", and Nuff hands it over.
Pyrene blinks and then suddenly 'ohs' in comprehension. "Does this mean I don't get lumbered with all the boring jobs anymore??" she asks hopefully. "The less tedious records?" She picks a last piece of fluff off the knot and sends Pol a warning look, even if he's asleep. "And I'm a fully fledged weyrwoman now?" Not that she would dream of pulling rank. Ahem.
<All> Cadgwith senses that Quarith returns Tiareth's probing with pastel colors interwoven with the gentle peach and orange of the sunset.
The Nuff laughs again. "Oh, I wouldn't really say /fully/ fledged, Pyrene. Not until She rises. But almost fledged is close enough, if you ask me. Which they didn't, but what is an old weyrwoman to do?" She dusts herself off and straightens up. "Welcome to Esprit, Pyrene, we might fly Low, but we sure fly Big. And Thread doesn't stand a chance."
Pyrene wrinkles her nose. "Well, she's past two now. She could rise any day... But Esprit... well. Not really where I'd thought I'd end up just over two turns ago..." She suddenly giggles, showing Cadge as the gold tries to focus one many-faceted eye on the tiny object. "You'll regret this Nuff, y'know," she adds, with a flash of her habitual wickedness.
Nuff chortles, "Not me Pyrene. I regret nothing. 'Sides, old Nuffie is Retired. Soft in the head, they say. Dimglow, they say. Half-cracked, they say. -- Tiareth, you be quiet, that is quite enough out of you. -- Till, High Reaches could have done worse, they say. Funny Cadgwith picking you."
Druseth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Pyrene nods absently. "I /never/ expected /tha--what's so funny about it?" Eyebrows raise in belated mock-offence, even as she tosses a wave to Druseth and Lylia. Cadge lightly snorts at her rider, sending her plait streaming before rumbling a greeting to the arriving rider pair.
Auri waves a hand cheerfully at Lylia and Nuff, smiling happily. "Hello, hello everybody. How are you doing today? I'm doing okay." Blue eyes open wide as a squirrel runs across the bowl, and a certain green starts on a quick, dangerous path after it. "Mira! Um...'scuse me for a second everyone..." And the girl runs off, planting her body firmly in front of the dragon. Errr.
Sardrinth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Peorth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Thesy gently slides down Sardrinth's neck, startled by a huge frosted muzzle sniffing at her, and lands with a soft thud.
R'gis slides down Peorth's shoulder, hopping lightly from the proferred forelimb.
Chiernathe steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
"Wha? Nothing, nothing at all", lies Nuff gratefully turning towards the arriving dragons and their Riders, or lack there of. "Ah, now here's the Thesy herself, and R'gis as well. Farewell, Auri, funny to see Mira chasing something these days, instead of the other way around. Still... hello hello. Pyrene's been Espirited. Mebbie you'll lead the next fall, eh Weyrwoman? "
Thesy eyes the latest addition to the High Reaches' queens a bit cautiously, one never knows what she comes up with. Maybe that's why she chose Pyrene. "Morning all! /Nuff/! So you finally remembered that there's a whole Weyr to keep you company, hm?" the bluerider laughs and ambles over to the riders, "Where, for Faranth's sake did you hide /all/ this time?"
R'gis slides down the green's side carefully, holding a squirming toddler in his arms who giggles and squeals at the short trip down from her mother's weyr. He smiles and pulls the blanket covering her head from chill breezes down to her shoulders so that she can see once more. "There now....we're on the ground again." he murmurs to the little girl. He follows the bluerider to the small group a bit slower, Isthy looking at the 'strangers' with wide eyes.
"Aaah! Don't sit on Pyreeeene! She's not porridge! Pyrene is not porridge!" That would be Auri, racing across the bowl again as the green's attention is diverted from the squirrel by something a little...tastier smelling. As Auri frantically gallops, trying to catch up, the green reaches the group of people, plopping her green butt down...on the ground. Look at her, all innocent and cute. She'd never hurt a fly. Squirrels, maybe. But not a fly.
Pyrene rolls her eyes. "I think I'll leave that to Areiah, thanks," she responds, still eyeing Nuff with amused suspicion. Cadgwith's choice will have to be put down to post-hatching trauma. "We weyrwoman have /work/ to do you know, Thes," she adds self-importantly, casting a suspicious look at Isthy, only to back away as Miravith approaches. "Ugh. Auri... tell her /no/..."
"No", says Nuff happily, for no apparent reason unless she too is addressing the rampaging green, which is probably pretty unlikely. "Really though, it is good to have wings. And a Wing. We are ever such a small Wing, and hardly anyone ever comes up for tea. You will come up for tea, won't you Pyrene? You too Thesy, R'gis. Bring the spawn? Its nice to see something so small once in awhile."
With a rumble and a swish-swish of his shadowy tail, Druseth slinks around the edge of the bowl. Then he spots Mira. Oye. With a brooding stare at the screaming, dying squirrels, he continues on his route before plopping back on his haunches, near enough to Pyrene that in case of Mira-attack, he can step in. The wiry brown's quite content to sit there in the faint shadows for now, letting his muzzle rest on his front legs and drool blood onto the talons. There's a few less wherries in the world today.
Auri clasps her hands in front of her. "Tell her no about what? Mira's not doing anything. See?" The girl points at the green, who is indeed sitting back on her haunches looking quite cute with her round little head and chubby cheeks tucked low, the tip of her fat little tail thumping on the dust. "Mira's a good dragon. Say hello, Miravith." The dragon lifts a floppy paw and waggles it in the air.
Pyrene's slightly haughty remark about busy goldriders only causes an amusedly quirked brow and Thesy murmurs, A"re they now, Pyrene?" Leaving it at that she takes a couple of steps backwards when Miravith comes to a halt only a few feet away, squinting her eyes against the barrage of dust and sand, "Really Auri. Why on Pern does she behave like one of those little canines?" Then she just stares at the waggling paw and says no more. "I'd love to, Nuff. I think it's been ages since I've been at your place and I don't think you've even met Isthy yet."
"I will if your own spawn aren't around," Pyrene muses. "Otherwise, you can come visit me. I'm just up those little stairs, y'know?" The ones that all but spell certain death. Protected by her Druseth in shining... er... straps, the younger goldrider feels secure enough to ignore Miravith. If not her rider. "Auri... you /really/ need to stop deluding yourself." Is the ex-nanny, the only person not fooled by Miravith's sickening display of adorability?
R'gis smiles a bit shyly, still a little tongue-tied around the gregarious weyrwoman. "That sounds wonderful, Nuff. It's seldom we go visiting anymore." he says, voice still a soft tenor. The child in question has turned her grey-blue stare on the green dragon that seemed to be charging down at them, unsure if she should cry or not despite her father's comforting hands.
Nuff flexes her fingers, shaking them out at the end of a good long stretch. "Gots rid of them all, Nuff's did. All but Jackie, and that's only cuz I don't trust that girl any further than I could throw Tiareth. The rest are back in the dorms where they belong. Shards is the weyr quiet all of a sudden." She grins at the rest, nodding. "Yes, anytime. Nuff'll serve cookies. And tea."
Thesy grins, "How many do you have, Nuff? I always seem to lose track of them." Probably more than she will ever have. No, /definitely/ more. Although Isthy's been a doll ever she was born, the bluerider has no intention of going through a lot more pregnancies and births. Even though it would be fun doing it just to annoy the ex-nanny.
Pyrene glances towards the caverns and makes mental notes to keep away from the dorms. She had plenty of run-ins with Nuff-spawn on a professional basis before she Impressed. "At least a dozen," she answers Thes mendaciously. Unless you're quantifying them by energy.
Nuff counts them out. "Jack, she's the one. Then the twins: Tuff and Chuff. Then the monsters, the three. Duff, Scruff, and little Ragamuff." Nuff sighs, exhausted at just the tought of them. "R'han was afraid if we had anymore that they'd come in four, and then five, you see. So he made us stop." Nuff sighs again, though more regretfully this time. "Mm....
R'han."
Iri appears from ground weyr's overhung shadows.
"Six?!" Thesy tries not to stare at the retired Weyrwoman, "And twins /and/ triplets? Good gracious, shouldn't we warn the Weyr of him?" She chuckles but winces a little when there's suddenly a small hand grabbing for her hair, "Owww, careful lovey!" Gently the hand gets removed before real harm's done, "I wonder where he's now. He's asked for a leave some sevendays ago and still hasn't come back.
Sriath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Pyrene shakes her head at Nuff. "I would have learned after the first one," she declares concisely before abruptly deciding to leave. Either due to Isthy's sudden movements, Sriath's arrival, or something completely other... who can say? She won't anyway. "I'll see you all later."
