Tilarekna - Wednesday, November 08, 2000, 5:02 PM ------------------------------------------------- _--^^^#####// \\#####^^^--_ _-^##########// ( ) \\##########^-_ -############// |\^^/| \\############- _/############// (>::<) \\############\_ /#############(( \\// ))#############\ -###############\\ (oo) //###############- -#################\\ / \ //#################- -###################\\/ \//###################- _#/|##########/\######( /\ )######/\##########|\#_ |/ |#/\#/\#/\/ \#/\##\ | | /##/\#/ \/\#/\#/\#| \| ' |/ V V ' V \#\| | | |/#/ V ' V V \| ' ' ' ' ' / | | | | \ ' ' ' ' ## ## ######### ( | | | | ) __________________________ ## ## ## __\ | | | | /__ | A Pern Themed Moo, based | ###### ## (vvv(VVV)(VVV)vvv) | on 'Dragonriders of Pern'| ## ## ## art by | books, by Anne McCaffrey | ## ## arpers ## ale John Moser ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The "Dragonriders of Pern" (tm) books are copyright 1967 by Anne McCaffrey. You are playing this game by the kind permission of Anne McCaffrey and her agent, Virginia Kidd. Type: connect to login to an existing character connect guest to login as a guest character @who to see who's online @quit to logoff ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tilarekna No longer short in stature, Reka is by no means willowy at 5'5. Not as plump as she was as a youngster, the chubbiness that was once present has all but vanished, although her round face and cheeks still hint at the fading signs. A bright smile filled with warmth shines out from creamy-tan skin, and is framed by red-gold curls that fall in waves to just below her shoulders. Often captured in a neat braid, these locks were once always in total disaray, obscuring amber eyes light enough to be considered golden. Having finally learned how to capture and control the frizz, neatness is slowly becoming an active habit with her. Still as active, if not more so than most people both taller than her and twice her turns in age, her tanned skin is clean with a row of freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones. Dirty paws and muddy clothing are a thing of the past for her, though she still has a love for her food. Mischief is another love, but it is now tempered by her growing knowledge and responsibility, and swiftly accumilating patience. She is growing up, and about time too! Dark brown leathers coat her leg, lined on the inside against any chill. A pair of calf high boots, made of the same shade of leather, protect her feet from the cold, whilst a white longsleeved blouse is tucked in neatly, a badge with the recognisable insignia of Ista Weyr sewn on her left shoulder. Hair, pulled back into a long runner tail, swishes across her back as she walks. Curled snuggly about Tilarekna's neck is Jolinar Watching alertly from Tilarekna's shoulder is Bay, eyes whirling in fun friendly colours. Nestled in Tilarekna's hair like a crown is Kairo. An opal is suspended on a soft leather chain, glinting brightly like the colors of a dragon's eye. A tangled knot of bright clean threads display the colours of Ista Weyr, and mark her as a resident. She is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Necklace Bay Jolinar Kairo You notice Tilarekna looking at you. Tilarekna is 18 Turns and 8 days old. Living Cavern The smooth, rounded walls of the vast living cavern sweep upward from an oval base, two dragonlengths long and one wide, large enough to seat every member of the Weyr at mealtimes. The soft blackness of the lava which forms these caverns swallows glowlight, so shelves for glowbaskets abound, dotting the walls every three or four paces and casting gentle greenish light up toward the sparkles of gold volcanic glass embedded in the ceiling. Ancient lustrous tables run along the long axis of the cavern, and at the far end is the raised dais and high table, where the Weyrleaders and their honored guests eat during formal occasions. Behind the high table, the Weyr's symbol is chiseled into the stone: a smoking mountain in black, on an orange shield, trimmed in gold. Perched near the food are twenty-four firelizards. You see Ale Cabinet, Moufles, Sketch, What's for Dinner, Snow, and Calandra here. Obvious exits: Northeast Caverns Kitchens Bowl Southern Caverns Yver walks in from the South Caverns. Tilarekna glances up from where she is pouring some klah for herself and her companion, a tall trim looking fellow, built slight rather than big and with a dark mane sprinkled richly with silver and grey, to give Yver a wide grin. Ah HA! Time for Yver to meet B'oat, her Da. You paged Yver with: Tilarekna pages, "B'oat, as you've prolly guessed is an NPC ;)" From afar, Yver woowoos! Yver stifles a yawn with a delicate palm, squinching her eyes to clear the sleep-gunk from them. The first thing she sees is Reka and klah, and hence her words, "Oh, Reka, be a darling and pour me a mug, too?" And then - she notices the cute guy. Blinkblink. Hmm. Looks a bit old for the weyr girl... but not too old for a certain Headwoman. Pleasant smile. "Good morning." Tilarekna grins, although she hides it from her da as she turns and fetches a second mug, filling it nearly to the brim with the hot liquid. Sweetner is added and mixed in as she listens to her father's surprised tenor answer Yver. "Uh.. Good morning," B'oat replies, somehow managing not to stutter. Oh dear, pretty woman heading this way. A hopeful look is shot in his daughter's direction. Carelock strides in from the Southeastern Bowl. Carelock wanders in, looking more awake today than she had in several Sevendays. But she still needs klah. Yver glides gracefully towards the pair of Tilarekna and her father - well, that's an overstatement. She manages not to stumble in her still-sleepy meander. And ah! There's Carelock. "Good morning, Carelock," and if her voice isn't exactly sweetness and light, she hasn't had /her/ klah yet either. A hand extends to remedy that situation. "Thank you, Reka." Tilarekna carefully hands over the klah mug to Yver, before grinning at the sight of Carelock's arrival. "Klah for you too, Carelock?" she calls, ignoring her father's slightly paniced wherrie in dragon's sight look as Yver takes a seat. Next to him. Meep! "Morning, Carelock! How's Morath t'day?" His voice doesn't waver too much, but he's certainly trying to edge away from the non-rider-headwoman person. Riders are MUCH safer folk. Unless they ride proddy greens. Carelock grunts. Then realizing that that response may be considered rude, she makes an effort. "Klah would be wonderful, 'Rekna. Morning, B'oat. Morath's fine. How's Shippith?" B'oat gives a grin to the brown rider, little blue Skif perched at a most alarming angle on his shoulder. "Shippith's fine, off feeding from the pens. We've t'day off, thank Faranth. I doubt our old bones would cope otherwise." Tilarekna just giggles as she breezes past, planting the klah before Carelock and a plate in front of her da and Skif. The little blue is just hungry, is all. Jolinar gives a cheerful squeak, rubbing her mistress's cheek with her little head as she watches the food land on the table. Taing a seat between her dad and Carelock, in stead of between him and the Weyr's head woman as he wished, she gives Yver a wink. Carelock notices the seating arrangements with a raised eyebrow, but decides not to say anything. Yet. Half the klah is swallowed in one gulp, then she replies, "I know the feeling. Morath and I had yesterday off." Yver pretends not to notice for B'oat's sake, wrapping her hands around the mug and tilting her head down to inhale the blessed scent of caffeine. She raises her mugs to her lips, the sly grin she shoots the weyrgirl barely discernable before she sips delicately. "It must be nice to have days off," she teases lightly, her gaze encompassing both riders for propriety's sake. Carelock blinks. "Well, when you're flying double sweeps, and unscheduled Falls on top of that, they're kind of required," she answers drily. Yver hastily puts in, "Easy, Care. No offense intended at all." She sighs softly. "I know how hard you all work." She's seen far too many strung-out riders wandering about aimlessly lately. Tilarekna sends a wink to Carelock, before resting her chin on an upturned palm. "You guys deserve it," she adds, smiling at the look her father gives her. B'oat nods, taking a swig of his own klah, before giving Yver a friendly nod. "None taken, I'm sure. But it IS hard on us right now..." He rubs his wrist absently, ignoring the look his daughter gives him. Carelock grins. "No offense taken, Yver. I know you know it's important.... It's some of those dratted Holders who think riders and their dragons are machines, can fly every candlemark of a day without rest...." Grump. "If I sound testy, chalk it up to having too much blood in my klah delivery system." "If there's anything we caverns women can do or have available for you, please let me know." The headwoman's words are proper enough, and the light in her eyes seems to be genuine concern. If she smiles a bit, it could just be for the klah. "And let me be the first to volunteer to smack some Holders around for you." Impish grin. From Tilarekna's shoulder, Jolinar gives a chittering fire lizard giggle, which is echoed by Rekna's, and is only ended by the easy timing of meatroll-in-the-mouth as the young Weyr girl pastes the most innocent expression on her face. Ain't she cute? B'oat gives an amused snort, before picking up a roll for himself and taking a bite. He's not gonna say anything, simply because he completely agrees. Carelock snickers. "I might just take you up on that...." She looks over at B'oat. "Have you had to deal with Schmo, that cotholder to the north of us, any? Now there's one that could use a little smacking around. Knock some sense into him." B'oat grunts, not answering while he chews (that would be rude, you see), before swallowing and giving a nod. "Obnoxious grunt. Shippith likes to put the fear of thread in him by giving a loud roar while he's busy trying to givee my wing an earful.. How a guy like THAT got to be a holder, I don't know..." Ignorant Cot Holder. *snort* Tilarekna raises an eyebrow as her father leans back in his chair, tilting the front off the floor while folding his arms over his chest. Skif squeeeeEEks as he nearly loses his balance, wings batting furiously to keep him on the shoulder perch. [At this point Yver got D/Ced, but we decided that, ICly, she'd gone to the kitchen while we weren't looking. ;)] Carelock nods. "That's the one. Landed there a couple of days ago, while on sweeps. He wanted to know what I was going to do about all these unscheduled Falls. I said, 'Fly 'em.' Apparently, that wasn't the answer he was looking for." She shrugs. "I told him that if he'd rather I didn't, then maybe he should do something about supplementing the size of his ground crews. I don't think he liked that answer either." Tilarekna shakes her head, eyes dancing - whether with mischief, amusement or amazement is anyones guess. "Oh my, he sounds.." try and be tactful, your dad's present, "Very filled with his own self-importance." B'oat gives a chuckle as he nods towards his daughter, a habit that, were you to watch him with his dragon, would see is echoed by the blue beasty when they're talking. "The guy's in need of a visit from his lord holder, make no mistake. Or the Weyrleader.." A fainter snort is emitted. The bloke seems more intimidated by those who rider the metalics than their dragon shades. Carelock snorts. "Wouldn't make a difference, I don't think. He's a perfect toady when confronted by authority figures, but the minute their back is turned...." She grins. "And in a perverse sort of way, he's flattering. He thinks that 'cause we're riders, we should be able to Do Something." She snorts again. "It's like he thinks I can wave my hand and say, "Let there be Thread" or "Let there not be Thread" and the universe would listen." Carelock stands, gulping the last of her klah. "Well, duty calls. See y'all later." Carelock strides to the Bowl. Yver walks in from the South Caverns. Tilarekna gives her father a poke, as he chuckles at some private joke, neither noticing Yver's return from the kitchen as she smooths back her hair and he tries to console his lizard-without-a-sense-of-balance. "You're being silly..." she mutters softly in reply, and B'oat would answer what ever it is she's calling him silly for, but, well.. his Father Sense is Tingling. Looking behind he gives a watery smile Yver's way. A smile that is far warmer on Tilarekna's features and is accompanied with a wink. Yver manages to stifle a chuckle, turning into a grin at the kitchen help's expense. "If those new cooks get the sweetsand and salt confused one more time, I don't know /what/ I'll do with them!" she exclaims, arms flailing in overdramatic exasperation. Look, she's silly too! And smiling that sunny paradise smile to the pair... or more specifically, to B'oat. Reka's just there. Tilarekna hides her mouth behind a klah mug, as B'oat gives Yver a wary, yet sympathetic grin. "You'd think the pranks would stop once the Candidates were gone, wouldn't you?" he comments in amusement, before returning to his klah. With nervous glances at Yver to the side. Meep! Tilarekna shakes her head as she puts her own mug down. "Tsk! I hope you told 'em stright, Yver." she grins. "Straight, left, right, upside-down and backwards," Yver informs cheerily, taking her seat again. Funny how that happens to be right next to B'oat, isn't it? "Oh, pooh," she pouts (cutely, might we add) as she peers into the klah mug. "And they made my klah cool, too." Tilarekna tuts sympathetically, before rising from her seat. "I'll go fetch you a fresh one from the kitchen, how about that?" she offers, ignoring the faint alarm on her father's face. His doughter couldn't POSSIBLY be thinking of leaving him... alone... here? with this... woman? *whimper* He blinks, hiding behind his klah mug. Yver will never understand how some people manage to survive in a Weyr... "You're too kind, Reka," notes the Headwoman, casting a surreptitious glance at the visibly nervous bluerider. "Give the cooks an extra scolding for me if you would, too." A wink of sparkling sea-green eyes. Tilarekna grins and winks back before sailing towards the kitchen, bronze Kairo taking wing and remaining near the larg flock of flitters in the cavern what's one more bronze, hmm? B'oat swallows a mouthful of klah, eyes darting after his daughter. If she doesn't return in.. two minutes, yeah, that's in, if she isn't back in two minutes, he'll go in after her. Meanwhile... Giving Yver a friendly (kinda) smile, he reaches for a roll. "So, hows things as the Weyr's headwoman?" Safe topic? He certainly hopes so. "They're things," admits the Headwoman. "Not nearly as harrowing or grueling as the torments you must have to deal with every day." Yver's eyes are warm and friendly, sympathetic, warm, hungry ... "Mostly hides, really. Records. Tithes. Bad cooks." She laughs softly. B'oat gives a chuckle, the nervous edge still present even as he very very slowly edges away from Yver, so that she's just out of his personal space. Which seems to grow by a mile when any interested females are on the scene. "Ah, if only fighting thread were so simple. And less dangerous. But probably no less taxing," he sighs, one hand pushing back a few loose strands of peppered grey hair. His daughter's still not here... meep. Tila... Comee back soooooon.. Yver can tell where she's not wanted. Of course, B'oat's not so subtle retreat helps a bit. "It's a different strain," she admits, though her tones take on a more professional air, and does she lean away slightly as she drums her fingers on the tabletop? "I spend a great deal of my time alone in my office." "Well, if you need company, I'm sure my nosy daughter would be more than happy to help you out and keep you company," B'oat chuckles, no longer edging away as Yver moves out of range. Silly man. Thinking he's a tad safer, he leans forward on the table with his arms, peering at the Headwoman thoughtfully. "And you are right, it is a different strain. We're keeping Pern safe," and now his grin becomes a touch teasing, although not losing his nervous edge, "While yours is to keep us stocked on all we need." Not at all small tasks. "So that you can continue to keep Pern safe, so that we can continue to keep you well stocked... it's a vicious cycle," Yver concludes succintly. "Dratted Red Star." She sighs softly, glance deliberately stalking everything but B'oat. "Tilarekna, however, is a delightfully helpful girl. And quite pretty... as I expect the weyrboys will notice soon." B'oat gives a grin, indulgent father face slipping onto his features. "Aye, she's growing up to be quite the little lady.. And very helpful," he adds as he picks up the klah mug. As swig is taken, he registers the last words spoken and gives a shake of his head, dark hair swishing slightly over his leathers. "Nah, she's not interested in that sort of thing. And even if she was," and now the far-too-smug-protective-dad card comes into play, "Shippith would be more than happy to inform me if anyone tried to take advantage of my little girl." Or so HE thinks. He relaxes a little more, as his hunted instincts lessen. Silly silly blue rider. From afar, Yver is starving. I can't hold out any longer, I'm sorry :( You paged Yver with: From afar, Tilarekna hugs. that's okay. I've logged what I have so far so when we want to continue.. ^_^ From afar, Yver oohs. Good idea :) You paged Yver with: From afar, Tilarekna grins.. Yver has disconnected. You look around for Yver ... drat it, she was /just/ here ...