Ilare - Thursday, January 11, 2001, 10:05 AM
--------------------------------------------

Ilare
A bright smile filled with warmth shines out from creamy skin, golden
 tan faded thanks to snow and cold. Oval face is framed by red-gold curls,
 recently trimmed short so that the tips of her mane stroke her cheeks and
 chin gently. Now, only her fringe occasionally obscures amber eyes light
 enough to be golden, bangs twisting slightly like spirals. Faded freckles
 are scattered across her nose and cheekbones, the final hints of childhood
 pudginess fading to the faintest hint. Not willowy - she'll never be
 that - but strongly built and sturdy, Ilare is as agile on her feet as
 a dragon midair. Having reached 5'6, she gives the impression of being
 taller through sheer presence and an insatiable friendliness she extends
 outwards. Alert and cheerful, her eyes seem to sparkle more since her
 Impression of Chanticoth, glowing almost bright gold when they're
 together.
Deep royal blue colours the silken cloth of Ilare's shirt. Darkest
 midnight buttons hold the practical fabric in place at the neckline,
 with long sleeves tapering to small wrists, ending in a cuff that keeps
 them safely out of the way when working with her life mate or allows them
 to be shoved up to her elbows when the work becomes messy. Hemline tucks
 neatly into trousers made of sturdy strong wher-hide, hued to darkest
 black of a midnight starless sky. Matching jacket made to withstand
 'Reaches winter weather is layered for much needed warmth. A royal blue
 band, flat and tied tightly, keeps her hair from flicking in her eyes
 while at work or in the air. Matching black belt is fastened 'round her
 waist, while knee high black boots, lined with soft down, fit her
 comfortably, their black shade fading into the rest of the ensemble.
 Nestled in Ilare's hair like a crown is Kairo. Curled snuggly about
 Ilare's neck is Jolinar.  Perched on Ilare's shoulder is Sethe.
A double twisted cord, one strand the shade of royalty's blue and the
 other blackest midnight, have been braided as one and coiled into a
 single loop. A ribbon the color of butter brandy, chestnuts roasting
 on a fire and deepest, richest brown, is bright in contrast - the colour
 of her lifemate, Chanticoth.
She is awake and looks alert.
You notice Ilare looking at you.
Ilare is 18 Turns, 9 months, and 13 days old.

Chanticoth
Oh what sweet, sweet treacle flavours his slimly elongated curves,
 lightening the glimmering patina of burnt pinewood; oh what bright,
 bright ridges carol along his snow and mistletoe back, kissing the
 gingerbread surface below. But it is the patterned decadence of
 brandy-butter that defines this rogue: toasted to perfection from the
 ruddy nubs that cap his head to the festive curve of that spoon-shaped
 tail candycane-striped with russet, his sweetly blunted snout is
 fairy-dusted with holly-crimson, which also reddens freckled cheeks.
 His chestnut hide roasts in the open air of winter's breath wings, along
 which a darker brown tracery gaily hunts for perfection. Smouldering
 embers of evening's end warm his underbelly, stretching dusky shadows
 except where disturbed by the rare sunburst of flames, breathing life
 into the whole of his enchanting body.
Richest green, the shade of deep summer foliage and wintertime evergreen
 has been dyed carefully into the leather, giving the impression of mottled
 shadows and multiple overlapping leaves. Lined with suede and wollybeast
 skin to prevent chaffing, these well oiled leather straps are doubled over
 to allow for growth. Positioned between the forth and fifth ridges, they
 have been sewn with dedicated care, made to last and not fall prey to wear
 and tear. Polished shiny buckles glint, kept bright with care. 
Chanticoth is 9 months and 17 days old.
He is 46 feet (14m) long, with a wingspan of 76 feet (23m).
Chanticoth senses Ilare looking at him.
Chanticoth seems to be listening.

Weyrling Barracks
The large covered entryways open into two immense U-shaped caverns that
 stretch back deep into the rock of the cliffside.  Glow baskets lining
 the cavern walls cast a soft light dispelling the shadows and
 illuminating the home of all High Reaches weyrlings.  Stone couches,
 some smaller for the greens and blues and some, for bronzes and the
 occasional gold, so large they have to be climbed into, rise up to loom
 over the walkways of well-packed dirt.
Along the walls nearest the entrances, shelves and pegs sport several sets
 of leathers and various books and tools needed when teaching and
 practicing; crates and supplies also take up residence in various nooks
 and crannies.  Toward the back, a large, man-dug pool for use by the
 dragonets and their lifemates and several large containers kept full of
 fresh meat serve as conveniences for the busy residents of these barracks.
To the southwest, you see Lainnoth.
Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are ten firelizards.
You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here.

G'deon climbs down from Nylanth's couch.

G'deon
G'deon appears at first glance to be quite calm and collected, though a
 mischievous gleam seems to tint his baby blue eyes from time to time.
 He shows promising signs of growing into what is still a somewhat lanky
 build, standing less than an inch under six feet, but many Turns of hard
 work have helped his shoulders to fill out considerably, along with his
 arms and hands.  His legs however are still the wiry limbs of his youth,
 which he'll never lose.  His sandy blond hair is kept quite clean and is
 beginning to grow out noticeably, locks of hair curling well past his
 ears and to his shoulders, managing to look a bit tousled at times.  The
 calmness of his eyes makes up for that, however, clear and blue as the
 summer sky over High Reaches.
Sturdy black boots, darker than deepest night, give way to rather thick,
 close-fitting black trousers which are dotted at various areas and
 heights with pockets.  From there is found a thick, black, wherhide belt
 cinched tightly at the waist, holding a rather tight royal blue shirt in
 place.  The shirt is a bit coarse but appears warm.  The rather loose
 sleeves fall to the wrists in modest bellows, tied firmly at the cuffs,
 and the collar comes together in a V-shape below neck, tied firmly
 together with cords like those at his wrists.
Unwavering shadows intertwine with the deep dark blue of glaciers, the two
 cords forming a single loop.  Mingling with the cords is a fine ribbon of
 shimmering bronze, naming G'deon as a bronze junior weyrling of High
 Reaches.
He is awake and looks alert.
G'deon is 20 Turns, 6 months, and 3 days old.

G'deon hops out of Nylanth's couch a bit slowly, rubbing absently at one
 shoulder.  He smiles to Ilare and nods.  "Mornin'"

Ilare glances up from the bench she's currently sitting on, morosely
 fingering the remains of her hair. Eyebrows raises slightly, and lips
 slowly twitch at the corners. "Hey there," she replies softly, before
 amber gold eyes glance at the 'barracks enterance. Hmm.. Still snowwing.. 

G'deon looks as well to the rather gloomy entrance.  "Looks like we're
 stuck in here again, huh?" he comments as he checks a couple pots among
 the mugs.  "Ah, I knew I smelled klah.  You want any?" he adds, glancing
 at her once... then again.  "Your hair's different."  Brilliant
 observation.

You notice G'deon looking at you.

Ilare's mouth twitches again at G'deon. "Yes." It IS an answer. To both
 questions, and the bronzling's accurate statement. Folding her legs again,
 she sighs. "Snow snow snow.." her voice trails of as she looks towards her
 slumbering dragon on their shared couch. What /will/ Chanticoth think? In
 case you can't tell by the nervous fingering of the short strands, Ilare
 is awaiting her dragon's appproval.

G'deon carefully pours two steaming mugs of klah which he brings over to
 the shorn weyrling, holding out a mug as he takes a seat.  "Who cut it?"
 he asks in his oh so suave manner.  "They did a good job..."

An eyeroll is almost given the question, but the delivery of klah distracts
 the brownling first. "Thanks.. Tyara did it for me this mornin'.." And the
 nanny seemed a tad too willing, too. "You mean that? It looks alright?"
 Her free hand touches her hair again. "I've never had it cut short
 before.." Worry... Ilare is worried. Yup. Because what if Chanti doesn't
 like it?

G'deon laughs softly but nods.  "Aye, it looks good on you, or at least I
 think so."  He sips at his klah slowly and glances at her again.  "You
 don't seem to happy with it... did you not /want/ it cut?"

Chanticoth clambers out of Chanticoth's couch.
Chanticoth senses G'deon looking at him.

Speaking of the big brown cutie *ahem*, here comes Chanticoth now, padding
 out of his couch. Ilare was awake before him? He slept in? Those three
 words do not go together in Chanti's mind. He rumbles a greeting at his
 rider, then pauses, fixing a whirling eye on her. You look... different...

Ilare needed it cut. Want was never an issue. *sigh* But she hides a faint
 smile at the partial compliment, nodding. "It was necessary.." Voice
 trails again, and her attention drifts to Chanticoth. "You were tired,
 love. All the flying practice.." 

G'deon nods to Chanticoth as he immerges from his couch then glances at
 Ilare again.  "Has Chanti seen your new haircut yet?" he asks, smiling.

Chanticoth brings his head even closer to Ilare's looking at her from all
 angles, then eyelids flicker in a surprised blink. She lost her hair!
 Where did she put it? We must find Ilare's hair!

Ilare has to giggle at her dragon's reaction, patting his nose gently.
 "Uh, well, he has now." She winks, a grin touching her face as humour
 fills her. "Chan, I got it cut short, remember? D'argo reamed me
 yesterday for having long hair.." Fishing in her pocket, she pulls out
 the single long lock she salvaged. "I saved this though, in case you
 wished to keep it.." Y'know, as a memory thingy.. A momen.. a mememto--
 *sigh* you know what. 

G'deon just smiles again and sits back.  No need to intrude on a private
 moment.  Eyes glance up at the couch he shares with his own lifemate, a
 curious grin creasing his face.

Well, of course Chanti... sort of... remembers. He knows what happened
 yesterday... uh... day before's a little more blurred. The lock of hair is
 wafted slightly by Chanti's breath as he regards it. Pretty. Looked
 prettier on Ilare's head, but yes, it would be nice to keep.

It DID, didn't it? *sigh* Well, it'll grow back. Griinning a little wwider,
 she nods. "Aye, but never mind. Best to stay out of trouble, no?" Taking a
 sip of Klah, she looks back towards G'deon. "What?" she wonders,
 expression innocent, as she queries the grin on his features.

G'deon looks at Ilare once more, that amused grin still on his face. 
 "Sorry, I was just seeing if Nylanth was awake yet."  Another sip of klah. 
 "So, I take it Chanticoth doesn't mind the hair cut?"

Ilare raises an eyebrow, not completely convinced, before nodding. "He's
 not happy, but it'll do.." And she feels the same, so really, she's not as
 bothered now.

Chanticoth rumbles slightly as he regards his lifemate's new 'do. There's
 not so much you can do with short hair, but Chanti /does/ have some ideas
 on how to brush it different ways. Never let it be said he does not have
 an opinion.

You think to Chanticoth, >> So you don't mind it too much? <<

Chanticoth thinks to you, << It is not pretty like your long hair. But
 it is still pretty. Just different pretty. >>

Chanticoth senses that Ilare smiles gently. << Really? >> He still likes,
 then? Not as much, but he /does/ like?

You sense Chanticoth gives Ilare a warm mental hug. >> I like. << Got
 it? No doubts?

Chanticoth senses that Ilare now has no doubts. *beam*

G'deon scrambles up into Nylanth's couch.

Slippa steps out of Zizth's couch

Sasha strides confidently in from the Training Grounds.

Slippa steps out from Zizth's couch, the chatty dragonet asleep - finally.
 She throws herself down into an empty chair once she's got a mug of klah,
 and sighs, snuggling into her new thick fur coat. 

Ilare is still chatting with Chanticoth. About, y'know, her hair. Because
 it's short. Really short. But in a nice way. Zizth is thrown a wave
 (because, like, Slippa is human - she's knows she's there, but the
 dragon's appreciate being greeted more, y'know?) before she nods at her
 brown. 

Sasha comes in shivering, and stamping..."Oh its cold out there!!!"
 Flinging her arms around herself to try to get warm, she then vainly
 rubs her quivering red fingers together. "Oh is there some klah?
 Brrrrr!" she strides over glad to find a mug to fill with the steaming
 liquid to wrap her hands around. "I'd snuggle up next to Branwy but I
 don't think she'd thank me for a freezing cold block of human ice in
 her couch!"

Chanticoth is still busy offering style tips for Ilare's new 'do. After
 all, /he/ doesn't have any hair to play with, so he has play with
 Ilare's. Eyes go to Sasha as she comes in. Well of course, it's cold. It
 has cold wet stuff all over the place...

Sasha blinks as she sees Ilare...."for a second I didn't recognise
 you...what did you do?"

Slippa grins at Sasha from the depths of her coat, "Thasswhy I wear a coat.
 This weather up here now's way too cold compared to Gar... it never even
 got this bad at Tillek!" She takes a sip of her klah, and then turns to
 stare at Ilare. "Yeah, something's different..."

Ilare didn't /do/ anything - s'all Tyara's doing. And D'argo's fault for
 ordering her to trim. "You like?" Peer pressure, gotta love it.. Not that
 she cares if they do or not - Chanticoth is already plowing ahead with
 ideas for styles for her new 'do. 

Slippa shrugs, "It's different. Can't remember what it was like before,
 though." Yeah, she likes it. She thinks. Sipping on her klah, she wiggles
 her head, making her plaits and their beads knock together. "I'd not get
 my hair cut that short, though. I like my plaits." 

Oooh... braids. And Chanti hasn't even started on partings yet....

Ilare eyes her dragon, before giving Slippa LOOK. He doesn't need any
 further ideas, dear! Readjusting the band keeping her hair from flopping
 forwards, she hmms faintly. "Well, make sure D'argo doesn't see then.
 He's a right stick in the mud." and Luxonth isn't much better..

You notice Sasha looking at you.

Slippa nods, flipping a braid or two back form her face, "Oh, they're
 normally held back with my headscarf. I just couldn't be bothered to put
 it on today, and Zizth told me not to bother." She shrugs, stifling a yawn
 with her hand before sipping her klah. "My Zizth keeps me up all night
 talking about this and that. Just as well she's not gotten into hairdos
 yet, or I'd never hear the end of it!" She rolls her eyes, grinning. 

Sasha, still curled up against the cold, her whole body seemingly wrapped
 around the mug she holds, stares at Ilare's newly shorn locks,
 critically. "It does suit you" she finally admits, "Although I'm
 definitely not going to let anyone cut mine...."

Ilare eyes her dragon fondly, before smiling faintly at Sasha. "That's what
 G'deon said, only I wasn't sure if he was being diplomatic.." For some
 reason, she's not sure Sasha isn't either. Ah wwell.. Looking to Slippa,
 she chuckles. "Heh, I like all night dragon conversations, m'self," she
 shrugs, rubbing the browns nose thoughtfully, before reaching for her klah
 mug. "Weather out there is NASTY.."

"Definately nasty," Slippa agrees, nodding her head, "Though if you've
 got a dragon yakking into your ear all night, every night, then every
 other second she's awake...." Slippa sighs, flipping up the collar of
 her coat. "I dunno. She just talks and talks."

Sasha slowly begins to undo her braid....picking out the blue streaks still
 bright in her hair. Brushing it all out, she marvels at is length..."I
 used to keep mine cropped short all the time...it was just easier..and I
 couldn't be bothered to play with it...people used to think I was a
 boy...."

Ilare doesn't watch - she remembers having long hair, after all, and she
 doesn't have hair that length anymore, so.. "This was the first time I've
 ever had my hair cut.." she admits with a shrug, folding her legs. "It..
 feels really wierd. Y'know?"

Slippa nods, "Yeah, I know. I used to have very long hair... but it used
 to get in the way when I was working as a stablehand. So I cut it off,
 and now I've got my braids. They're so much easier to handle." She peers
 at Sasha's blue hair, but says nothing. Must've been a fad or something.

Sasha nods. "Lighter. its actually probably a good thing...hanging on to
 mine to the bitter end will probably bring me more trouble than its
 worth....I don't actually know why I'm bothering...except out of
 curiosity" she sighs slightly, not actually admitting that she had
 become tired of being seen as the rough little scrapper urchin, and
 since arriving at the Reaches had begun to allow her softer feminine
 side to shine through...

Ilare shrugs. "Well, it's definately a change.." lets change the topic,
 shall we? "How're your dragon's today?"

"Huge, and not getting any smaller," Slippa says with a grin, sipping on
 her klah. "And to think, they've all still got much more to grow!" 

Ilare rolls her eyes. "Hah.. Chan here's as big as Niamyth! And he's ages
 till his full growth.." Just how big he turns out remains to be seen, too.

Sasha gazes at Chanti, admiringly. "Soooooo enormous these days....it seems
 like yesterday when Branwy could sit on my lap....Not any more!!!"

Slippa giggles. "I'd not want Zizth to sit on my lap! She's bigger than
 Branwyth, isn't she? At least she was last time I saw them together,
 unless yours has suddenly had a growth spurt!" She grins. "Doesn't it
 take ages to oil them now? I'm only glad she doesn't need to get washed
 too often. Oiling and washing all that hide all the time'd drive me mad."

Sasha nods fervently, still cuddled deep in her cloak. "and isn't hunting a
 blessing! No more dragging in dead herd beast for me....she just goes and
 gets her own!"

Ilare couldn't fit Chan in her lap as far as she can recall, but he was
 once far easier to cuddle. Yup. "They're amazing in the air - shame
 about the snow out, or we'd be there practicing.." A sigh, before a
 giggle. "Maybe someone other than Luxonth's rider will watch us when
 you fly Chan.." A laugh is directed in agreement at Slippa. "But at least
 they don't need so much oiling and such now!"

Chanticoth is still cuddle-some. There's just more of him to cuddle now.

Slippa grins, "Oh, Ziz never needed much oiling or bathing. She tends to
 keep herself clean, she repels dirt. Luckily for me." She snuggles back
 into her chair, tucking her legs up beneath her. 

Ilare couldn't agree more, Chan.. Wrapping her arms about the brown neck,
 she hugs it thoughtfully, quiet, as she listens to the others.

Sasha sighs happily craning her neck to see Branwyth's tail, dangling off
 her couch and twitching in her sleep. "I get the most amazing feelings
 these days....when she hunts I mean....really blood lusting ones...and the
 dreams I get....What about you two?"

Slippa's dreams haven't been disturbed too much, but then again, she only
 gets to sleep when Zizth lets her. "Oh, mine've not been too bad, but the
 feeling I get when she's hunting..." She looks down at her lap, quiet.
 "They're hard to explain."

Sasha looks a little bit wary but at the same time a little wickedly,
 trying to code her words carefully so the dragons don't react... "Makes
 you wonder what it will be like when they decide to fly together...."
 she raises an eyebrow heavy with meaning.

Ilare raises her eyebrows, but says naught. She's hardly put off by the
 sight of the hunt-and-kill, even if she often has to remind a certain
 greedy guts that he's only allowed so much to eat. A faint snicker escapes
 her at Sasha'ss words, before the double meaning hits and she growns,
 turning her face to the brown hide. "Let's NOT think about /that/, shall
 we?" 

Chanticoth looks down at Ilare. Something wrong with flying? Why would he
 not want to think about flying? Flying is fun...

Not THAT kind of Flying, Chan..

Slippa shakes her head, "I'm with Ilare. I'd rather not think about it,
 until the time comes, and she... well, y'know." 

Chanticoth looks about as puzzled as a dragon can get. There's another sort
 of flying?

Ilare nods. "Yes." Who's she talking to? Guess. Oi.. This better not turn
 into the.. uh.. interesting time where Mzadith and Chanticoth simply HAD
 to know where Human Babies came from..

Sasha is still shivering. Quickly she pours herself some more klah. "I'm
 still sooo cold!" she mutters to noone inparticular.

Ilare makes a noise, as she lets go of her dragon's neck. "Aye, freezing..
 I've started to like snow, but that's rediculous!" Give her istan sun and
 sand any day!

You sense Chanticoth pictures the pair flying in the sky. >> Wait until we
 are allowed to go where we like. Then we will go to Ista and sun
 ourselves. << Sound good?

Chanticoth senses that Ilare turns and grins broadly. << Oh, yes. Very very
 good indeed. >> 

You sense Chanticoth smiles. >> Good. <<


	===================	End Log	===================