Tilarekna - Thursday, December 07, 2000, 7:35 PM
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Night or day, Klah can always be found warming on the High Reaches 
 Hearth...

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 fourteen firelizards.
You see Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, OOC NOTICE (look sign), Boots, Hobbes,
 Generic Sign-Up Sheet, Kageri, Hiliza's Candie Sock-Puppet, and Beeoh
 here.
Pia is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

Tilarekna emerges from the caverns, large basket of clean clothing carried
 carefully towards the benches. Perhaps she can sit down as she folds and
 checks over for anything that might need repairing? Pia, the not-friend,
 is noticed and nodded but otherwise ignored.

Pia, sprawled out in one of the armchairs, glances up at Tilarekna, a smirk
 sidling onto her lips. "Done with your robe?" She inquires, too sweetly.

Mosiah arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Tilarekna blinks, and glances over at the slumped Holder Girl. Pfft, smug
 child. "Of course. I've had it finished since the first sevenday I got
 here," is the reply, in an equally smug tone. "You?" Mane is flicked over
 her shoulder as she straightens, folding one of the blankets.

Mosiah trundles into the room, looking a bit on the sleepyside. Its as if
 he just rolled out of his blankets, complete with tousled hair and sleep
 wrinkles along his cheek. "Mornin'"

"I was a candidate last time," the Vintner-lass returns, equally smug. "So
 my robe was finished, no doubt, long before yours." Mosiah is eyed, and
 offered a half-smile. "Good morning," Pia returns.
 
Tilarekna would roll her eyes, but that would make the Pia-per smugger.
 "Well, good for you," is her response, before she glances at the new
 arrival. "Morning, Moe," she smiles instead, reaching for a shirt to fold. 

Mosiah slumps into the first chair available, which is also already
 conveniently pushed out. Stifling a yawn, he glances to the others, "Those
 eggs didn't happen to hatch while I was asleep, did they?"

Pia nods absently at the unfamiliar Liuea before glancing back at the other
 two. "My robe is quite nice -- a thin embroidered hem at the bottom. White
 on white, of course, so that it doesn't show. But I know it's there, and
 I'm certain that the dragon I'll Impress will like it too."

Tilarekna raises both eyebrows now, letting the shirt drop back to the
 basket. "Are you _mad_?" Her voice contains her shock at.. at.. the
 _blasphemy!_ Candidate robes do NOT have ornamentation! "What makes you
 think that you'll get away with that?" White on white DOES show, if you
 know what to look for.. Amber eyes flare. 

Rauve arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

You notice Rauve looking at you.

"I had it last time," the Vintner snaps, green eyes narrowing icily. "It's
 thin, anyways. It's for me, more than anything. You're just jealous
 because my robe will undoubtably be ten times better than your rag." Pia
 lifts her chin, turning to glance at Rauve.

"Isn't it a little early to be hostile?" Rauve mumbles vaguely, hair still
 soggy from a bath, and pajamas worn in place of... his latest monstrosity.
 A good-natured wink is tilted toward Pia's glance, a cup of 'fruit juice
 drowsily retrieved. 'Rekna and Mosiah both recieve lax smiles, eyes
 glinting as sleep drains into semi-alertness.

Tilarekna's eyes brighten at that. "Really? No wonder you didn't Impress
 then - the dragons knew you were breaking the rules," ouch, hissss! "And
 who says I'll be wearing a rag? I happen to be pretty good at sewing. And
 I bet you got someone else to make your precious robe." Her little green
 hisses her mistress' distaste for the vinter, and the breaking-of-rules.
 Fancy embroidery? on a hatching robe? It goes against all the weyr girl's
 been taught. Bah!

"I didn't Impress last time because my dragon wasn't hatched," Pia returns
 coldly, gazing down her nose at the weyrborn Candidate. "But I'll bet you
 just about anything that I Impress this time." A moment, and she adds:
 "And I made my own robe, thank you very much. I am the grand-daughter of a
 Lord Holder -- I need to know how to make things so that I know when they
 are are made properly."

"I'm A Granddaughter of a Lord Holder," mimics 'Reka, tone and voice raised
 to match Pia's response. "Oh, boo hoo, you led such a hard life. Why on
 Pern would you need to know that if you're of such a rank? Surely you'd
 get such things made for you?" Tilarekna's in no mood to be nice, it
 seems. That, and she just Doesn't Like Pia. Eeek. "Makes me wonder just
 why you'd leave your cushy hold and grace us 'meer mortals' with your
 presense.." Giving the Vinter a mocking bow, she turns her back on her,
 reaching for the shirt that needs folding.

Rauve rolls his eyes slightly, annoyance registered toward 'rekna and Pia,
 for once. Shoulders rolled into a tired shrug, he wanders toward the
 tapestries, straightening a few and flicking grim from the fabric's folds.
 Tilarekna is given a vaguely amused blink, and a 'it's-not-worth-it'
 smile.

"And you think that you're so wonderful because you're the daughter of some
 random rider?" Pia retorts, shooting Rauve a glare. She saw that. "And
 besides, I'm here because I am going to Impress a dragon. I'm a shoo-in.
 Why else would I have been Searched again?"

Tilarekna starts to laugh. "Random rider? I doubt there is such a thing,"
 What, insult her dad? That's not likely to get a rise out of her. Besides,
 there are riders all the way up her mother's side... "I could say the same
 for myself, /dear/ Granddaughter-of-a-Lord-Holder, this is my third time."
 There's a pause as she contemplates her own words, "And I've turns left to
 try again if I don't Impress this time. Can you say the same?" Rauve is
 given a wink - not worth it? Oh, but it's so much fun!

"I'm not yet 20," Pia returns smugly. "Not that it will matter. This is my
 time -- I can feel it. Besides, I doubt any sensible dragon would want
 someone like /you/. But then, sometimes there's no explaining taste."
 That's how Pia justifies the fact that some dragon Impressed Lyri. "But
 like I said, I'd be willing to wager just about anything that I'll not be
 left standing /this/ time."

Rauve sighs quietly, musty slippers shuffled 'round in haplessly. Perhaps
 nervously. Chair, chair, chair. One is honed in on, weyrboy abruptly
 curling into a seat askant of the cantankerous candidates. Meh. A few
 mosrels of jerky are unpocketed and passed numbly to the firelizards
 crowding his shoulders, a brow raised toward Pia.

Tilarekna turns at that, a not too plesant grin on her lips. "Taste? Oh, my
 dear Pia, I'd have to doubt the taste of ANY dragon who'd want you; how on
 earth would Holder Blood - LORD Holder blood at that - cope with being
 picked for a hard job of a rider? I can't see it my self..." She drawls,
 before crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You'd wager ANYthing?"
 she repeats. Has to be sure you know, can't get her wires crossed..

"Anything," the Vintner-Candie agrees easily, leaning back into the embrace
 of her chair. "I'm that certain."

Rauve resumes feeding flizzen, as he had paused a moment to shoulder glares
 and that sort of thing. A peculiar blink angled at 'rekna, underlip
 casually chewed upon. Erk.

Tilarekna stares, and slowly begins to pad towards the Vinter, circling the
 chair as she stares. Heh, not polite, but neither's Pia, so it really
 doesn't matter.. "Anything, hmm, how about that.." A deep chuckle, one
 which if you knew her well, would have warned you she was Thinking,
 escapes her lips, and her head finally tilts to gaze down at the seated
 Fort gal. "Anything. Anything, you said. Well, how about I take you up on
 that bet?"

Pia tilts a shoulder, brows lifting. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't
 expect you to take me up on it," she notes, in tones best reserved for
 speaking with four year olds.

Tilarekna gives Pia a look of mock-hurt, "Well, I had to check. I wouldn't
 want to take you up on something you said in jest," she replies, before
 the grin returns, accompanied by the chuckle once more. "Well, since
 you're so game to play, how about this? If you don't Impress on the Sands
 this Hatching, you must dye that wonderful robe you made.... and wear it
 for six months." Amber burns with not-too-kind-delight. "Pink. Bright
 pink." 

"Deal!" Pia snaps, arms folded across her chest. "Pink, blue, what ever. It
 won't matter, anyways."

Tilarekna's eyes flare, and hand is instanty extended. "Shake? Rauve,
 you'll bear witness to this, won't you?" Her tone is far too smug, as
 though she knows something Pia doesn't. Which she doesn't. But Pia doesn't
 know that, right?

Rauve wrinkles his nose slightly, glancing from woman to woman. "Sure. If
 you're both willing, I suppose I can.." Not that he'll like it. A dubious
 Look is tossed toward Pia.

Pia accepts the hand, shakes it, and then snatches her own back.
 Contamination from the little-folk is to be avoided. "There. Like I said,
 witnesses won't even be necessary."

Tilarekna notes the strength of the shake, and snatches her own hand away
 just as quickly, wiping it on her skirt as she turns away. Ick, holder
 germs! Well, make that Pia-Germs! Who knows what she might catch. "Done.
 And trust me, when you're left Standing, I'll hold you to it.." Regardless
 if she herself Impresses or not.

Rauve exhales slowly, fiddling with the spade of some 'lizard tail. "That
 was cheery," he murmurs under his breath, a leg hiked to extend over one
 chairarm. 

Pia shrugs a shoulder, carelessly. "Whatever, Tilarekna. I doubt you'll
 even be here afterwards, anyways."

Tilarekna gives a knowing smile, glancing back over her shoulder. "Well,
 even if I'm not, I'll be sure to let the other candidates know. After all,
 at least one of us has to Impress? And I'm sure some of the Riders who
 know you would be mor than happy to make sure you keep your side of the
 bet.." Mwahaha, evil Weyr-child!

Pia, vaguely uneasily, shrugs again. "It won't matter." Conviction is the
 important emotion here. "I'm going to Impress."

Rauve enjoys futile arguments just as much as the next schmuck, but...
 "Y'all wanna do something?" You know, candidate bonding. It's fun. Derr.
 Really.

But didn't we just bond over Pia-Daring? Hah, that Vinter Impressing? Don't
 make Tilarekna die of laughter! "Oh, I'm /so/ sure you will," is the curt
 response as Reka returns to finishing her last chore. 

Pia fixes a rather irritated gaze on Rauve. Somehow, somewhere, she's
 starting to get the feeling that what she just did maybe wasn't the best
 idea. "What exactly do you want to do?"

Rauve withers. "I don't know," he answers, expression a tinge subdued. "It
 was jus' something to say." Really.

Pia slumps back into her armchair, lips twisted into a scowl. Oh yes, now
 she /knows/ she's made a mistake.

Tilarekna begins to hum mindlessly, smirk hidden from Pia. Mwahaha, oh yes,
 Pia's made a big mistake. Gee, pink, gotta love Reka's taste in nasty
 colours, neh?

Rauve goes home.

D'renn strides in from the Central Bowl.

Pia is seated in an armchair, a rather sulky cast to her features. How
 unusual.

Tilarekna is still humming, still smug, and still folding laundry. The
 rider is given a grin, before attention is returned to her work. Hmm,
 hasn't PIA chores to do?

D'renn strolls into the caverns, making one of his rare appearances:
 apparently he's determined not to be overlooked, too, judging from his
 revoltingly-loud shirt and shorts. "Morning all...."

D'renn
Dark curls flop into a still youthful, tanned face, but the faint thread of
 silver that twines back from D'renn's left temple has been joined by a
 salt&pepper sprinkle in his unruly mop of hair. He can only be described
 as short, wiry rather than stocky; muscles firm as a result of Turns of
 dragonriding. Blue eyes are framed by tiny laughter lines, another wrinkle
 or two furrowing a groove between thick black brows whenever he frowns -
 which is rarely. Mobile features are far more likely to smile, or laugh as
 D'renn makes yet another inappropriate joke at someone's expense... though
 malicious he never is, merely high-spirited and impulsive. The ingrained
 impetuosity shows too in the quick movements of someone who never sits
 still, but is constantly in fluid motion,
Mustard and bottle-green blossom across D'renn's torso in a sickeningly
 tie-dye patterned short-sleeved shirt. Bright blue are his shorts,
 Trydanth-colored, tanned hairy legs ending in the usual brown leather
 sandals.
He is awake and looks alert.
D'renn is 41 Turns, 4 months, and 20 days old.

Pia turns at the familiar voice and gives a sudden, dreamy sigh. "Morning,
 D'renn," she coos, setting her chin into her hands.

"Hullo, Pia... Rekna," the bluerider greets the Candidates. Was that a
 faint note of distress on Pia's name? Perhaps. "Nice weather, isn't it?"
 D'renn continues nonchalantly though, snatching a glass of juice from
 someone's passing tray, and then perching himself on a tabletop to swing
 his hairy legs.

"Morning, D'renn," is returned, Reka's eyes gleaming faintly. "Nice? Well,
 it's an improvement, but still nothing compaired to Ista's summer. But I
 must admit it's nice to be cool instead of baking for once." Shirt is
 placed on the low pile and a another removed from the basket. "How are you
 today, sir?"

Pia merely offers another, heartfelt sigh. "Summer /is/ wonderful." 

D'renn peers over at Reka's laundry. "Better not be any of my underwear in
 there.... I'm fine." Anyhow. A long cool slurp of juice, and he nods again
 to the clothes-folder. "S'nice to be around the Weyr for once instead of
 all over the place. I dunno, since I retired as Weyrlingmaster" - read
 'sacked' - "they keep finding me weird errands."

Tilarekna shakes her head, "No male stuff, sir. Just Weyrfolk and Bratling
 clothes in here." Ick, touch HIS stuff?? No way! *cough* Fold, dolf, make
 it neat.. She reaches for one of the towels and starts to fold.

Pia leans back into her armchair and tucks her legs up underneath her,
 smoothing her skirt down protectively. "D'renn," she offers, mildly, "I
 think your underwear is safe. No one's even mentioned it..." And Pia'd
 turn them in, if they had.

"Oh Pia, you disappoint me," D'renn sighs, permitting himself to grin at
 the vintner. "And none of my shorts? I'm relieved. Did anyone tell you
 what happened to it last time, Rekna?"  At which Pia gets a hard stare.

Tilarekna shakes her head, "No, I've not heard anything other than Pia over
 there getting chained to one of her fellow candidates.." is her response,
 and faint snicker. Schooling her features into a look of polite interest,
 she tilts her head at D'renn as she keeps on folding. "What happened?" 

Pia gets that dreamy look in her eyes again. He /smiled/. "Oh, D'renn,
 don't try to tell us you weren't flattered... all that attention?"

Caylea arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

"Oh, that was funny! Pia and Lyri hated each other so much that R'sli... I
 think it was.... chained 'em together." D'renn starts off on a different
 story altogether. "And made 'em clean the ashpits...." Pia just gets a
 blue-eyed wink in answer to her insinuations.

Tilarekna chuckles, head shaking. Lyri.. ah, she'll be the one to tell
 about the bet, then? "My word, that must have been... Amusing?" *snicker*
 Caylea is given a wink and a wave - ooo, friend! MUST tell her about the
 bet!

"Lyri and I worked out our problems," Pia notes stiffly, brows drawn
 together. "It was /not/ amusing, it was a learning experience."

"Thankfully." D'renn murmurs quietly, sipping juice. Quietly.

Caylea strides confidently into the living cavern, her bright red hair 
 -poor healer- nearly spiked up in frizz and what not.  Once again she's
 spent several hours in the baths trying to remove the dye, and once again
 she's only managed to make it slightly, ever so slightly, lighter.  Which
 means, with the bleach-like herb she'd used to remove it, her hair's now
 psycodelic (sp) rose.  Ooo, purty.  Glancing around, she arches a brow: 
 "What's goin on?"  She asks almost casually.  However, eye-to-eye contact
 with Tilar is avoided.

Tilarekna gives an amused shrug, although her sunny grin fades slightly at
 the avoided eye contact. "D'renn was telling me about the last time Pia
 was a Candidate," she shrugs, still folding clothing. There's more too,
 but it can wait till Pia departs. 

"Hello, Caylea," D'renn greets the multi-hued girl, eyeing her hair almost
 approvingly. It's no worse a colour combination than he's prone to... "So.
 Does anyone want to hear any more stories about Pia when she was a
 Candidate last time?" Evil D'renn.

Mournful eyes focus on D'renn. Maybe this is just his way of flirting? Pia
 heaves another sigh and glares balefully at Tilarekna. This is her fault.
 Somehow.

Her fault? Tilarekna is steadfastly ignoring Pia, and it can't POSSIBLY be
 her fault - D'renn was the one who brought it up, after all...

D'renn ignores Pia's mournful eyes - he's had a lot of practice, after all.
 "Well, if you don't want to hear stories, I guess I'll just shut up," the
 ex-weyrlingmaster says a tad grumpily.

Caylea arches a brow as she glances around the group.  Sad face, mad face,
 grumpy face:  Well, one of those she can help.  Striding across the room,
 she takes a seat and nods.  "Story!  Let's hear it?  Can't be any worse
 then my experiences."

Tilarekna does! Honest! Look! Here! Me! Folding things! "Oh, don't stop -
 you didn't say what happened with your.. underwear, was it?" Eyes dart to
 Pia now, finally, confusion within her eyes but not on her face. 

"A story. About my underwear?" D'renn ponders aloud. "Well.... someone
 arranged for it to be shrank." Naming no names, since D'renn still doesn't
 know who. "And then /everyone/ convinced me that I'd just got fat and
 needed to diet."

The diet, of course, was Pia's idea. "Admit it," she chirps, "you liked the
 greens drink."

Kinecha silently walks in from the Central Bowl.

Caylea ponders for a moment and then chuckles.  "So, did it work?"

Tilarekna blinks, and hastily covers her mouth to stop a giggle escaping.
 "They didn't!" Damn, why didn't anyone suggest something like that as a
 prank during this candidacy? Well.. maybe it's not too late? "How...
 umm..." Well, what word would be most appropriate?

D'renn scowls at Pia, black brows scrunched up alarmingly. "It was
 re/volt/ing. And that was all your fault, Pia," D'renn accuses.

Wondering what kind of conversation she came in on, Kinecha heads over to
 get a glass of juice. Giving a nod to those already assembled, she fills a
 glass and puts a couple of meatrolls on a plate before taking a seat near
 the others.

You release Jolinar, who launches into the air.

Jolinar> Tilarekna steps away for a moment to scrawl out a message to
 someone.

"My fault?" Pia protests innocently. "How was it my fault? I just
 wanted to help -- you were the one who was talking about how tight your
 boxers were." Ah, the good ole days.

D'renn nods briefly to Kinecha, but Pia's facing his full wrath. Or
 something. "/You/ made me that drink. And /you/ joined in with convincing
 me I was getting fat. Against all sensible evidence." D'renn's boxers are
 not sensible evidence. 

Caylea just stares off into the blue, no doubt thinking about D'renn in
 tight boxers.  

Pia fixes her limpid gaze on D'renn, fluttering her lashes. "But, D'renn, I
 tasted the drink before I gave it to you! And my mother really does drink
 that slo.. er, stuff. It was for your own good. You didn't want all the
 weyrlings walking on you, did you?"

Tilarekna smiles at Kinecha, before snickering as D'renn gets mad at Pia -
 not that Pia doesn't deserve it. Glancing into her basket, she finds it
 empty, so she quickly puts the folded things in and picks it up. "I'd
 better get these to the drudges, bye D'renn! See you later, Cay! Remember
 the bet, Pia!" she adds as she sails out of the caverns.. 


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