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Logfile from G'deon
24th of January, 2001
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.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are thirty-two firelizards.
You see Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, OOC NOTICE (look sign), Boots, Hobbes, Generic
Sign-Up Sheet, and Kageri here.
R'sli, Areiah, and Ehkotiah are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchens Inner Caverns Crafting Area
G'deon quietly strides into the Caverns.
R'sli
Before you stands a remarkable young man, shrewd and easy-going as a result
of his tinker birth. Coal-black hair brushes the very top of his violet eyes,
retreating into a tight trim 'round the sides and back. A pair of silver-framed
spectacles with small, round lenses perch on his nose, making that violet gaze
a bit more intense. Not the biggest rider in the Weyr, his 5'7 frame is tightly
packed with ropy muscles. As he catches your gaze, he offers a lopsided grin,
leaving the urge to count your teeth to be sure he hasn't charmed any away.
Oh yeah. He's one to watch out for, all right.
R'sli wears a linen shirt, dyed royal blue, tucked loosely into black wherhide
pants that hug his thighs and disappear into calf-high black boots. Coiled around
R'sli's neck is Stanzi.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.
R'sli is 27 Turns, 11 months, and 15 days old.
Areiah
Despite the ineffable softness of youth still lingering in her supple form and
shy, quiet bearing, Areiah is quite obviously one no longer considered a girl,
but rather a young woman. Lustrous onyx waves have been let down, falling to
much resemble a waterfall in loose waves down her back, stopping only as they
reach the calves of sculpted legs. Her generally artistic features are only
enhanced by these wayward locks, the twin sapphire pools that carefully observe
much of the world around her made even more dramatic against her lightly tanned
skin. Subtly pronounced cheekbones and a button nose sit above full, naturally
pouty lips, the innocence of childhood becoming less and less evident by way
of her appearance.
The smooth touch of leather caresses every inch of Areiah's petite frame in
a lithesome second skin, blatantly revealing all that it strives to conceal.
Supple hide, dyed a dark cobalt blue, shimmers with a barely perceptible pattern
of inlayed silver. In sharp contrast to the pristinely pale hint of bared neck,
the jacket fastens tightly over her torso, stretched taut over the gentle curve
of breast and shoulder. Glimmers of silver blend seamlessly down into trousers
that flow over her legs like a sheath, accentuating the subtle arch of strong,
svelte thighs. Dark blue hide stretches down to kiss the bend of her leg invitingly,
only to be swallowed by lustrous knee high boots, embracing the soft swell of
calf and heel.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.
Areiah is 27 Turns, 3 months, and 22 days old.
Ehkotiah
Awe-inspiring rich emerald-green orbs dance and tease 'neath long, thick lashes
and sharp-arched eyebrows. A river of straight, silky crimson-blood locks brush
about in layers around her shoulders and mid-back. Full, luscious rouge-tinged
lips curl for a sweet, often endearing smile, brightening the air about her.
Her lithe figure, the curves of feminineness abundantly shaping her body, is
held with dignity, about 5'7 in height, strength hidden in her body yet always
giving to withstand any tasks Ehkotiah desires to put them under.
Majestic ripples of autumn colors sweep gracefully about Koti, just glistening
against the floors. More than one color shines through as the first few layers
of beauty seem as thin yet misty as water. First orange-crimson tinge, fading
as the richer, thicker colors underneath over-power it's faintness. Chestnut-red
veils the pride gleam of the golden shade below it; the last layer noticeable
by mortal eyes. From the waist down, the dress is full and vibrant whilst the
torso, it's crimson bodice laced and fitted to near perfection, is bathed closely.
Slung about Ehkotiah's neck is Ehkotiah's Listening Tube.
Purple and white threads swim about each other, blue and black strands added
along to denote Kotiah as a Healer Apprentice of High Reaches Weyr.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 6 minutes.
Ehkotiah is 20 Turns, 3 months, and 8 days old.
Ehkotiah gives G'deon a soft smile, lifting her mug as she quietly wanders over to the hearth, trying to be out of the way of the two other sin the Caverns.
Carefully, Areiah leans against R'sli, resting her head on his shoulder - only after shaking it at the offer of a drink. "I don't know how to say this," she admits softly, closing her eyes. "I don't know how to tell you. I'm.. I'm a little scared." And queasy, don't forget queasy. All the new arrivals are noticed, but not; she's a distracted girl, yes she is.
Annalee blinks slightly as she walks in, irritable expression lifting towards one of curiosity. But it's held in check, at least this time.
R'sli chuckles at that, and strokes Reia's hair gently. "It's all right, Reia," he says, noting G'deon and Alee over her head. "We're best friends--we can tell each other anything." He grins, and snugs her shoulder gently. "Now, what's all this about?"
G'deon walks in slowly, a couple hides under one arm and an empty glass in the other. He nods to a couple of the weyrfolk and takes a seat off to the side, eyes glancing at R'sli and Areiah for a moment before he turns to talk to a passing drudge.
Annalee
Sapphire eyes of startling intensity move to meet yours, gaze for gaze, hiding
neither the haunted coldfire or vibrant, warm truefire that dances and sparkles
within those deeply blue orbs. A bemused grin tweaks the corners of ruby lips
upward in her smooth ivory face, lighting further her already luminescent and
delicate features. Long, thick hair of ebony and velvet shines as it cascades
nearly to her ankles. Occasionally a single blue-black strand will fall forward,
only to be pushed back with slim, long, strong Harper's hands. Simply by the
way she walks, you can tell she is of the Harper Hall--Shoulders are back, chin
is lifted, back is straight. A heart of fire, a soul of song: That is Annalee.
Black leathers enfold Annalee's legs, tucking neatly into sapphire blue boots
with black sole and a heel that adds two inches to her height. Her shirt of
blue suede is sleeveless and ends a handsbreadth past her hips. The chest has
three keyhole slits fanning out from the high collar, the one in the middle
longer than the other two by a few fingersbreadth. Beneath her leather shirt
is a white blouse, with long bell sleeves caught about the wrist with a simple
cuff. About her fingers wrap several simple silver bands. Small silver roses
with little sapphire drops dangle from her ears. Aijin clings, tail wrapped
'round lower left arm, to Annalee. Lyrial clings to Annalee's upper left arm.
Tategoto perches carefully on Annalee's upper right arm.
Double cords twine and twist over Annalee's shoulder in deepest black and 'Reaches
blue, looping twice around to dangle in a tassel of Mudslide's black and brown,
two ribbons running throughout the knot--one of harper blue to symbolize her
dragon, blue Erranth, and one of gold to announce her wingleadership of Mudslide
Wing of High Reaches Weyr.
She is awake and looks alert.
Annalee is 29 Turns, 2 months, and 9 days old.
"I guess we are, aren't we," the tiny brunette murmurs, lifting her head. "Best friends, I mean? So maybe this won't be horrible. Maybe.." Narrow shoulders go up, down, and Areiah wrinkles her nose. Okay. Deep breath, very, very soft voice: "I'm.. late. And I'm sick, in the mornings." A long pause, and then she hesitantly adds, "And there's no way it could've been Finn."
Annalee freezes in her tracks as she -- perhaps wrongly -- listens in, hands poised over the drink table. Oh dear.
As a drudge returns to G'deon and refills his glass, the bronzeling looks up and notices the bluerider who followed him in. He smiles and nods to her in greeting, then takes a sip of the juice at the same time as Areiah's comment. He raises an eyebrow slightly, but it's none of his business. He probably misheard.
R'sli takes that in for a second, then clears his throat. He's got sisters, and they've all been late and sick in the mornings. And the greenrider is anything but stupid. "Um, are you saying that you're...." his voice trails off in a memory of a steamy bath and rare wine.
Areiah is, in fact, saying that. And nods to convey this. "And if you don't want to be involved, I'll understand, it.. well, it wasn't exactly a planned thing, and.. and I'd be more than happy to.. well.." From pale to pink in just a few minutes. Poor little thing. "I just - I've never done this, and I certainly didn't expect - well."
A loud whoop bursts from the greenrider, and he leaps to his feet, catching up Areiah, and spinning her around briefly before setting her gently back on the ground. "Don't want to be involved?" R'sli echoes, the grin on his face threatening to split his head open. "Don't be daft. This is wonderful!" He hugs the goldrider briefly, and pulls back. "Did they say when you'll be delivering?"
Annalee turns her head around enough to watch Ris and Areiah, a bit of a grin quirking the corners of her mouth up in a smile. "Welladay," she murmurs softly, eyes dancing merrily. "News, indeed."
A smile practically bursts across G'deon's face as R'sli swoops Areiah into his arms. There's certainly no question now. A young weyrfolk leans over to the bronzeling and whispers something, to which G'deon just claps the guy on the back. "Very good news," he replies with a smile, though his voice is pitched low, unobtrusive. "And it's good to see R'sli smile again, that's for sure."
Squeak! Areiah is swung - spun, even - and as she returns to the ground, she's left simply staring, wide-eyed. "You mean.. you're not upset? You're /happy/?" Squeak. Squeak, squeak, squeak. The delight seems to be infectious, for the grin is mimicked, if bashfully, through the hug. "Ah, well, I'm only a month in, she said, so.. eight months from now?" She's still vaguely baffled with the response. Forgive her if the math is incorrect.
Annalee giggles softly, wandering over towards the others, thoughts of a drink forgotten. "Well congratulations, you two." Her voice is pitched just right to carry but not be obtrusive as she stands to the side, back just a bit.
R'sli ticks off the numbers on his fingers, looking briefly like the weyrling he was ten years ago. "Eight months," he affirms. "Right before the winter snows, then. That'll be a mercy. Heavy snow means light Fall, and more time for me with the baby!" He grins, and cocks his head. "Zaqith is extremely happy, as well," he says with a chuckle. "She can't wait to meet him," she said. "Oh, hey, thanks, Alee," he says to the bluerider. "You got the scoop on the Weyr gossips, this time."
Annalee rolls her eyes slightly, settling into her seat at the head of the Mudslide table. "-This- time."
G'deon raises his glass to the two happy riders. Hey, maybe R'sli won't mind. "Congratulations, Areiah and R'sli!" he calls out.
R'sli spins, and centers on G'deon. "You," he states with a shout. "G'deon! Come here for a second," he says, motioning the bronzerider closer.
Areiah beams. She really can't help it. "Oh, Alee - I'm sorry, gosh, I didn't see you. Thanks!" Eyes skip back to R'sli, though, anxious; "Him? Can't wait to meet /him/?" Oooh. G'deon even gets a smile, a nod, a quick little, "Thank you." before R'sli begins shouting. Oh, dear.
R'sli shrugs at Reia. "Him. Her. Actually, she said 'it'. I just tweaked it a little in the translation."
G'deon hesitates, but for the briefest of moments. He sets his glass down carefully and rounds the table, steady strides taking him over to the happy pair. "Yes sir?" he asks, a soft smile on his face.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Ysbryth glosses and shines - just absolutely glows - in ripples of amber-cut delight; << There is to be a small one! >> And then, in a mist of lavender and rose hips, just for clarification's sake; << Areiah is pregnant. >>
R'sli nods at G'deon, his expression one of mock-sternness. "Well, I've been monitoring your progress at Ista Hold," he says, "And I've no reports from Master Evan or Lady Charis that you've been anything less than respectful while working down there. Taking that into consideration, I've decided that you and Tatia may rise to fight with your wing. You're still grounded to the Weyr," he cautions, "With the exception of Ista Hold and Fall." He grins. "Do you understand?" The weyrling was lucky to catch the weyrlingmaster in a good mood.
Annalee just grins, chin on hand. "Indeed, my cousin's headwoman at Ista. She said they've been doing well."
Oh, good. Areiah keeps quiet, hanging back, angling for a spot near Annalee, but she smiles nonetheless. How fortunate for G'deon. Timing really is everything.
Annalee grins up at Areiah, waving her towards a vacant Mudslide seat. "C'mere and sit down..."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Zizth bubbles fizzily. <<A small one? A small Areiah?>> A shruken image of a tiny weyrwoman comes to play in her mind, tinged with vivid, curious lime. <<Why would we want another small one?>>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath cuts in smugly with all the sense she can gather, trailing flowery perfume that's just this side of head. << People like to have them. They mate, and then they lay little ones - only they hatch /inside/. Incredibly stupid, if you ask me. >> Which nobody did.
At the very first of the Weyrlingmaster's words, G'deon seems to tense slightly, just a fraction really. However, bit by bit that soft smile returns and at the last he nods quickly. "Aye, sir!" he replies, pure joy in his eyes as he looks at both R'sli and Areiah. "You won't be disappointed."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Soquilith flows, a curtain spreading as a hot flash sparks a brandy-bitter flame toward Alymath. << Hey, man, just because you're not the one with good news doesn't mean you've gotta rain on Ysbryth's flame. >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Rubyth wafts hints of celebratory teal eddying oddly about his words. << Multiple felicitations,>> he remarks somewhat complacently. <<Inform us again when it hatches ... or when she clutches ... or whatever it is humans think they do.>>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Ysbryth edges curiosity with a hint of jasmine. << Not exactly like Areiah. A small one. >> A blanket-wrapped babe is brought to mind, forming of misty, foamy white, and peach-pink. << A baby. >> Heightened curiosity, now, with an overtone of dusky sandalwood goes Alymath-ward. << Would it not be safer to hatch inside? >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Pilloeth rumbles sleepily, trailing drowsiness across his own two marks worth. << It's not stupid. Just different. The little ones get to sleep alot. >> Wistfulness tinges the last comment. Sleep.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth cuts through in berry tones and sapphire swirls. << When she lays the hatchling. >> He never has and likely never will use the term "baby".
<Kamikaze Wing> Nylanth senses that Zizth exhales bittersweet cinnamon, tinged with a hint of fresh green apple peel. <<But why? Why do they have to hatch inside? The Sands are much nicer.>> Then, as she sees Ysbryth's image of the baby - <<That's ugly. Not pink enough.>>... A fizzy cocktail of silvery sparkles and cinnamon whirl brightly, vividly reflecting Zizth's curiosity. <<Will Slippa have a hatchling?>>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Zizth exhales bitter-sweet cinnamon, tinged with a hint of fresh green apple peel. <<But why? Why do they have to hatch inside? The Sands are much nicer.>> Then, as she sees Ysbryth's image of the baby - <<That's ugly. Not pink enough.>>... A fizzy cocktail of silvery sparkles and cinnamon whirl brightly, vividly reflecting Zizth's curiosity. <<Will Slippa have a hatchling?>>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath turns her figurative nose up at Soquilith, giving him a whiff of musk as she distances herself. << Quiet, you. Just because you didn't catch me doesn't give you the right to be /mean/. >> Ysbryth recieves a rippling shudder, dark with fermenting citrus. << Oh, /no/. It hurts Lis so much, when she did it. Twice. >> This is added with smug satisfaction.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth pools sweet berries about Alymath, coating the image of the green with blue and fuchsia. << It only hurts for a little bit, not terribly much. Mine own's been through two herself. >>
Areiah will happily claim the offered seat, yessir, if only to have a nice, cozy place to curl up. Well, and for some quality time with Annalee, though an eye is kept on R'sli, too. "Ysbryth is all excited, all of a sudden," she murmurs, shaking her head. "I've never done this before." That got said earlier. But it bears repeating.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Soquilith capers over Alymath's musk with the cooling heat of brewed, and heavily spiked, cider. << If I would've known you were an airhead, babe, I wouldn't have bothered. >> A pause -- uncertain. << Males do not bear those.. little pink things, do they >>
"I have," Annalee returns, eyes still dancing. "And if you have questions, you can always ask me, you know." R'sli is watched for a while, the bluerider's mouth twitching in merriment. "I do believe you've made his day..."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath huffs a sweet-scented snort in Erranth's direction. << Male. You don't know anything about birth. >> Her gender gives her instinctive sympathy, don't you know, despite being infertile. Soquilith brings an indignant cacophony - a mental splutter. << Quiet, /snot/. I have enough males not to bother with clumsy weyrlings like you. >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Jakith puts his own commentary into the mix with a rumbling, electric charge, a lightning flash in Alymath's direction. << And you /do/ know about birth? I must have missed your last clutch. >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Soquilith rumbles -- ash broiling with alcohol. << I'll be quiet when I wanna be, wh-- /wench/. >> There's a dragon with a pregnant lifemate present, so he curbs his penchant for crassness... mildly.
R'sli grins, and turns, kneeling on the floor and pressing his ear to Areiah's belly. "I wonder what it will be," he muses, and chuckles. "Every new mother has never done this before, and they all come through it fine," he notes, drawing his head back. "It's not like I've ever been in on the whole process. They usually come to me pre-made."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Revnath enters the conversation, a voice of reason, so to speak. << Ah, but I am sure that some males have some sort of sense of birth... at least, plenty of them attend their mates' birthing-times. >> After a pause, the brown continues doubtfully. << Even if some of them knock their wits ::between::. >> A mild dart is sent Soquilith-wards: << Younglings ought to simply keep silent. >>
"I was so scared he'd get upset," Areiah confides, not that that was really a secret, anyhow. "It's so nice to see him smiling, isn't it?" The little 'rider settles back in her chair, giggling as R'sli listens to her stomach. Probably an odd noise, that. "If I catch you taking bets on what the sex will be.." the warning is half-hearted, though, and more amused than anything. "Well - firsts for both of us, then."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth rumbles with laughter, though he can't refuse an amethyst-stained barb towards Revnath. << Indeed -- youngling. >> Though it's all in good fun.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath is far too lady-like to shriek and claw at Soquilith, but she's not above a fierce snarl. << Look, runt, take out your frustrations on your rider. Or find some other green to take pity on you. >> She's no mercy bedpartner. Smoothing down her feathers, she sends out a few wispy, seductive tendrils towards Erranth and Revnath. << Thank you, boys, >> coos the green appreciatively.
G'deon lifts his glass once more to the pair, a silent toast given them before he finishes off his drink, eyes still twinkling softly. Edging out of the way, he returns to his seat off in the quieter section of the cavern.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Zaqith is a Weyrlingmaster's dragon, and one of her charges seems to be taking a lot of fire. Cinnamon snaps pop in her tone as she swirls hot buttery irritation at the older dragons. <<It is not right to tease Soquilith,>> she notes acidly. <<The young do not know. They must ask to learn.>> How quickly some dragons forget their own weyrlinghood.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth pulls his essence away from Alymath, swirling it back towards Ysbryth. << I was teasing Revnath, if you simply -must- know. >>
Desyana arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Desyana
Her mahogany hair falls in soft curls to just past her shoulders and her sapphire
blue eyes are rimmed with deep lashes of the same dark shade. Her complexion
is soft and has a peachy tone to it. High carved cheekbones and a warm, lush
mouth above a small pointed chin finish off an oval face. She stands about 5
ft., 5 inches; a little taller then most women. Her figure is well-rounded in
a classic female shape, which she is pleased to note, drapes clothing well.
She wears a soft burnoose robe in a polished bronze color, falling to her midthigh.
It is made of a tightly woven wool and is extremely warm. She is also wearing
cream leggings of the same fabric and hide boot to her knees in a dark brown
shade. A belt and pouch of the same shae finishe the outfit.
A plain blue and black knot, denoting High Reaches Weyr,is on her shoulder.
She is awake and looks alert.
Desyana is 24 Turns, 8 months, and 6 days old.
Annalee grins slightly, just shaking her head. At humans or dragons is anybody's guess.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Soquilith quenches a flame -- shortly, the burn leaving a dark smoke scent on pointed words. << And you ought keep your snout out of a conversation you're not involed in, then. Interrupting is rude -- learn your manners before you expect someone else to.>> A white flame tapers toward Alymath. << I don't want /your/ pity, and I'm hardly a runt. Wench. >>
R'sli chuckles, and holds his hands up. "I won't take so much as a stone mark," he vows, and crosses his heart with one finger. "On the shards of my Zaqith's egg." There. That's a mighty powerful promise from the biggest bookmaker in the Weyr. "If I hear of a pool, can I place a wager?" he asks hopefully.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth sides with Zaqith, emitting a sharp << ENOUGH! >> into the conversation. << This is out of hand. >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Revnath tosses a cinnamon-spiced tendril of thought back at Erranth, equal amusement tinting his tone. << Ah, old one, I bow to your wisdom... >> He switches his attention to Alymath at that point. Ladylike, indeed. << It is no trouble to help /you/, Alymath. >> He does, however, fall momentarily silent at Zaqith's comment.
Desyana quietly slips into the hall and heads straight for the klah, her hair still damp from the bath, but at least her muscles don't ache so badly anymore. That's it, tomorrow she starts back on a regular exercise program. hard to believe what little she did at Ista Hold would torment her so.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath grumbles into silence at Zaqith's comment, deferring to more responsible minds with one crisp statement, cold and lemon-fresh: << Take care of your own, Zaqith. Soquilith seems to be a little excited... >> And, as Erranth pulls away, she roils her pink vapor towards Revnath. /He/ likes her.
G'deon waves to Desyana as she enters, a rather excited look on his face as he motions for her to join him at his table.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Soquilith snorts, his flame doused swiftly -- he doesn't need a babysitter. << Yeah. I'm the excited one... this from /her/. >> And with this, he withdraws from talking, curtain closed.
Desyana grabs her mug and with a smile, joins G'deon. "Hello, are you anywhere near as sore as I am?" whispered near his ear. She really doesn't want to admit to anyone how out-of-shape she must be.
Deep blue eyes roll skyward, and Areiah giggles. "I knew it. I just knew it." Letting out a sigh that's more mock drama than real defeat, the 'rider cants her head and gives a lopsided smile. "I suppose it'd be ethical enough to place a bet or two, here and there?" Ah, yes. Well on the way to total corruption.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Erranth settles into silence for a few more moments, then effectively taps on Ysbryth's shoulder. << Eight months, then? It will not be long. >>
Loren arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Loren exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Ysbryth perks, in a shiver of twilight and silver. << Eight months, if all goes well, yes. >> Anticipation ripples in hints of clover, of all things. << It will not be long at all. >>
G'deon grins at Desyana as he moves the small pile of hides out of the way on the table. "What, are you kidding?" he replies, voice just barely able to carry to her. Face sobers for a brief second or two. "With all the weyrlings and other people looking on..." Well, never mind that. He smiles again and nods in the direction of R'sli and Areiah. "Did'ya hear the news?" he asks excitedly.
Annalee rises suddenly, resting a hand on Areiah's shoulder. "I'll see you two later. Lyrial just informed me that I've a visitor."
Annalee exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that he finally decides to join the conversation as a cool dark blue of deepest night overshadows his mindvoice, tinged with the distinct smell of pine and pre-morning dew. << Ysbryth, you and your rider will do very well >>
R'sli winks. "I'm going to cover the spread. I'm betting on both." He grins, and stands, dusting his trousers off as he rises. Alee is blinked after, and her chair usurped as the greenrider lowers himself into the space. "What do you think Finn will say?" he asks, thinking as well of T'lendel and how he's going to break the news to him.
Desyana says, "What news? I don't seem to hear much of anything here. Of course it might help if I didn't sleep so much." Smirks at her own comment. "What's going on?"
Konolan exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
G'deon grins back at Desyana. "Areiah, senior weyrwoman of High Reaches," like anyone didn't know that, "is pregnant... with R'sli's child," the weyrling finally blurts out quietly.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath makes an offering of solace in celestial hints of silver amid cooler shades of magenta. << My rider wants to let yours know that she can stop by any time for advice, Ysbryth. Cadgwith's rider does. >> Imagines of pregnant Pyrene, acid-etched on reality with dull sparkle glimmer and fade.
"I don't know," Areiah answers truthfully, seriously. "He understood, when I told him about.. well, you know what I'm talking about." And here, the 'rider is fending off the urge to blush. And doing an admirable job, really; were it not for the stammer, you'd never know she was embarrassed. "I mean, he took it really well. He knows that I love you, but it's not.. anyway, I'm not sure. He'll probably be all right with it." Maybe. Hopefully. More questions suddenly crop up, though, as legs are pulled up and crossed underneath. "How is it going to work, though? With us? And the baby?" G'deon the Gossip is politely ignored. Heh.
Desyana looks to R'sli and Areiah and grins. "That's wonderful, congratulations to you both. I love babes, so if I can ever help, please just ask. especially in those wee hours when you would love to just scream."
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Revnath pauses to consider. << I wonder if mine will ever go through that... >> A whiff of curious nutmeg trickles into his touch. << I suppose, though, she is too young... if she ever does, though, I shall send her to your rider, Alymath. If that is fine with her, that is. >>
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Ysbryth twists 'round Alymath in whispers of sage, and crisp, cooling wind. << Thank you. Rather, Areiah thanks you. Or, rather, Areiah thanks your lifemate. And I thank you, too. >> Phew. That's an awful lot of thank-you's.
R'sli thinks about that, and brightens. "Well, we've Siannen to think about," he says with a chuckle. "She'll most likely be ferrying him between our weyrs enough that we'll both see him as much as we want." He grins, and leans back in his chair. "Or until you lose your temper and pitch her off the ledge."
Desyana sips her klah and looks anywhere but at the folks at the table. Apparently this /wasn't/ meant for her ears just yet. "G'deon, will we ever finish that conversation?" Quick a distraction.
Areiah dips her head in a nod, and smothers a bit of a grin at the last. "Siannen's a love," she says lightly. "A little.. ah.. energetic, but still, she's terrific." So no temper-losing to worry over. "You know, this is actually kind of exciting." Following suit, the tiny brunette leans back in her own chair, but she lays a hand upon her stomach, peering downward. Terrifying, but exciting.
G'deon has been slowly gathering the stack of hides he'd brought in, trying to straighten the uneven edges into a uniform pile. More efficient that way. He glances at Desyana for a long moment then nods. "Aye, of course. When? Where?" he adds, smiling with amusement.
<High Reaches Weyr> Nylanth senses that Alymath fairly purrs with smugness, accepting the thankyou's and confidence like a gracious pageant winner. << Oh, Ysbryth - if your rider ever needs a foster mother, my rider is very good at it. >> There's just the hint of nervous secrecy that suggests her rider isn't in on this conversation.
Desyana says, "Whenever, wherever? You know this weyr far better then I do. I am /still/ getting my bearings." Smiles again at the diminutive weyrwoman. "Yes, it is exciting. As long as the child is wanted, I believe it always is."
G'deon glances over at Areiah and grins before turning back to Desyana. "Well... let's see. Have you ever been up to the Star Stones?"
Desyana says, "Nope, mostly I have explored the caverns and such. had a great time in the infirmary. I want to be able to find it should I need it. Are they far from here?"
"Great time? In the infirmary?" G'deon asks in disbelief. The look on his face makes it /quite/ clear what his own opinion of that place is. "And no, they're not all that /far/... it's more a matter of height."
Desyana chuckles at his reaction. "I enjoy herbalry and such. I don't mean I had fun being hurt. Can we climb to the Stones... Or do we... fly?" There is hesitation in her voice but she is determined to get past all that. Isn't that why she came to another weyr? "Either way is fine, but I just want to be prepared. I /did/ just soak out all my poor muscle aches.
G'deon nods slowly as if mulling the point over carefully. "Well... it would certainly be easier for Nylanth to give us a lift. And it's in the Weyr.... I guess that would work," he says, grinning at Desyana.
Desyana says, "We can fly.. No time like now to try and move on.." A shadow crosses her face, but she smiles at him and nods, squaring her shoulders and determined to 'grow-up'. "Is now a good time, then?"
G'deon glances over at the now solitary Areiah. "Um, Areiah, are you alright here?" he asks kindly as he scoops up his pile of hides, tightly rolls them, then sticks them in one of those odd pockets in his trousers - a throwback from his Smith days.
Desyana looks at Areiah as well. "I know you will get lots of information and good advice, but remember.. no klah or alcohol.. it /could/ hurt the baby. I'm sorry... my mother was a midwife/healer, it was drilled into me as a child."
"Huh? Oh - " And Areiah looks up, smiling. "Thanks, Gids, I'll be fine. It - it was a bit of an interesting day." Anything but normal, that's for certain. "I'll be okay. I think I'm just going to go for a bit of a walk." A grateful nod to Desyana, and she's up, and off.
Areiah exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.