The following is a log of roleplay on Threadfall MUSH, logged by Z'vind.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyrightę 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern« is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with permission.


Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Iskandith is a bit more excited, but still cautious. << A good first attempt. All are through and the first jump is the hardest. But do not get overy excited. You must still visualize with care or be lost. When all have had a moment to breath, I will give you the picture of the star stones and we will return home.>>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Nimoth rumbles softly in affirmative.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Didarath sends back an affirmative that is rather more excited than before, though it calms shortly, probably at some comment from his rider. << We listen. We obey. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Genevrath controls her joy with some difficulty, and rich veins of it trickle through the level and concentrated tones in which she returns her own thoughts of affirmation, accompanied by no strongly formed words.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Isyrath's emotions are cool, and calm, carefully reined in, as much by her own proclivities as by her rider's firm hand, the pair awaiting the next signal.

On, over, all aboard! You approach Kealath, the brown offering a descending foreleg for an extra step up, then drop into your customary cave on the broad neck.

Southern Sky - Ista Weyr
    The view - in a word - is breathtaking. All of Ista Weyr stretches out beneath you, her stony environs speckled by greenery within and the jungles that surround her. Stony fingers protrude toward the sky, their jagged, sharp outlines casting crooked shadows on the floor of the bowl. The small, green oasis that surrounds the waterfall pool is easily visible from this height, the greenery melting into the meadow of the feeding grounds. Tiny, herdbeast figurines mill about there, their shapes only slightly larger and more discernible at this height than the small silhouettes of people.
    Ledges dot the walls, their shadowed interiors occasionally illuminated by hearths or glows lighted within. The bowl is directly beneath with the living caverns in the southernmost wall and the waterfall in the northermost. The Hatching Grounds and Weyrling Barracks are accessible to the east, while ground Weyrs and feeding grounds located along the western walls.
Obvious exits:
Weyrs    Star Stones    Hatching Grounds     Upper Sky    Northern Sky    Down

** From the sky over the Hold, From Iskandith's neckridges, J'sen once again glances around to take measure, then lifts his arm and gives the signal to *between* back to the weyr.

** From the sky over the Hold, Iskandith disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** From the sky over the Hold, Nimoth disappears into the frigid void of Between...

[We fast forward.  ICly the pairs go back and forth to the hold several times, each time landing for a brief rest.  RP picks up after that rest.]

Dragon> Iskandith bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << We now go someplace new. This is a place many riders go after losing a flight.>> There's the fainest wisp of draconic humor before seriousness sets in again. << Take the picture from me and repeat it as before. >> >>

You drop lower in the sky, coming to hover over the Istan bowl.

Northern Sky - Ista Weyr
    Blankets of tangled foliage and black sand color the ground beneath you, their hues melting to form a darkened emerald enveloped by the glittering sapphire of the sea with her white-capped waves breaking along the shorelines. The frothy white crash of the waterfall is visible here, though the tumult of noise is muted if not silenced as the slow, sweet passage of wind carries its tropical warmth throughout the skies.
    A distant mar on the greenery of the horizon is the clearing that surrounds Ista Hold, lying far to the west and barely visible even from this height. To the south, the Weyr stretches it caldera until it greets the base of the mountain, which extends upward to form the four fingers and the thumb which easily mark the outline of the Weyr. Beneath, the jungle clearing and the paths that diverge from it are easily discerned, one delving into the jungle while another heads down to the black sands of the beach and yet another opens onto the long, serpentine curve of the Istan Road.
Contents:
Meriath
Marcath
Myrdith(#555JOabes$)
Genevrath
Didarath
Isyrath
Nimoth
Iskandith
Obvious exits:
Weyrs    Upper Sky    Southern Sky    Down

** Meriath warbles innocently. Never been a problem with her.

Kealath> Remembering the Icelake area from Iskandith...

    Here, a cold wind blows constantly - the ebb barely passing before another sharp breeze comes to slap across the heights. It's bitter, frigid, inescapable, and a perfect accompaniment to the wintry panorama that spreads out beneath in a frosty display of snow-dusted evergreens and long lavender shadows across icy environs. A high valley lies hidden amid the close embrace of jagged peaks, isolated with no apparent way in or out save adragonback. In the very heart of this valley, glinting with a pale sapphire edge against the wan filter of diffused sunlight, is a richly deep lake frozen over in a thick sheet of impenetrable ice, powdered here and there where new fallen snow manages to dust its chilled surface.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Marcath can sense...can visualize this new destination.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Isyrath takes a bit longer with this visualization, but she returns it as precisely as it was given.

Dragon> Kealath bespoke you with << I was just looked at by Isyrath. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Nimoth warbles in confusion over that lost flight reference, but then croons softly as he captures that new image and after a few moments, projects it back full force to Iskandith.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Myrdith takes the images and memorizes it, being very careful, then returns it.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Genevrath hasn't lost the thrill of those first few trips, though concentrates intently on learning, securing, and then returning, in great detail, the subtleties of that projected image.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Didarath takes a few moments to compile the message before returning it, crystal clear.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Kealath bears the images aloft in his flames, with a sputter of effort here and there, but he returns it, quite flawless hopefully.

** From Iskandith's neckridges, J'sen yells so his voice will carry over the sound of hovering dragons. "Tighten your jackets, weyrlings. It's cold where we're going." And then he gives the signal that's now becoming familiar.

** Iskandith disappears into the frigid void of Between...

** Meriath soars a bit overhead, then takes her place at the back of the group.

** Nimoth disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Kealath> Visualizing the Icelake area...

** Genevrath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Didarath disappears into the frigid void of Between...

** Kealath disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Between

Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

The cold void of Between fills every sensation until there is nothing but infinite darkness.

Sky - Ice Lake

    Here, a cold wind blows constantly - the ebb barely passing before another sharp breeze comes to slap across the heights. It's bitter, frigid, inescapable, and a perfect accompaniment to the wintry panorama that spreads out beneath in a frosty display of snow-dusted evergreens and long lavender shadows across icy environs. A high valley lies hidden amid the close embrace of jagged peaks, isolated with no apparent way in or out save adragonback. In the very heart of this valley, glinting with a pale sapphire edge against the wan filter of diffused sunlight, is a richly deep lake frozen over in a thick sheet of impenetrable ice, powdered here and there where new fallen snow manages to dust its chilled surface.

Contents:
Didarath
Genevrath
Nimoth
Iskandith
Obvious exits:
Down    Ista Hold    Between    OOC Room

** With a blast of cold air, Kealath emerges from Between!

** With a blast of cold air, Isyrath emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Myrdith emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Meriath emerges from Between!

** Nimoth warbles in surprise. Evidently his lifemate's explanations of 'cold' haven't been too effective. Well...between he doesn't really compare with anything, really. But this cold causes him to tilt his head and attempt to memorize the feeling as well as the image.

** With a blast of cold air, Marcath emerges from Between!

Z'vind battles with cold and hot, hot and cold as he sits high and dry on his lifemate's neck. He allows a gasp of air, head thrown back as Kealath wisps moisture away and salutes his fellow weyrlings in rumble if not word.

Z'vind
Stubby, short but stubbornly black hair sprouts scalp-close from generally clean-shaven features, boyishly tanned with a frail line of stubble to demarcate chin from cheek. His face is highly angular, jaw etched with sly lines of woe or laughter. Grey eyes and clipped chin straggle casually together with the rest of this youth's sturdy, rangy form, long legs claiming a wide stride as an obscure slur marks alto voice.
Ragged mahogany-toned leathers clutch possession at the lank shoulders, mid-length leather trous reaching to his calves. The hide boots on his feet are the same though, as is the Istan Weyrling with its earthy brown thread woven through.

He is 15 Turns, 10 months, 13 days old.

** Iskandith spirals down, evidently intending to land on the shore to give everyone a moment to look around and catch their breath.

** Iskandith follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.

** From Isyrath's neckridges, Llilian laughs softly, at her lifemates soft croon. It seems the gold rather likes this new cold place.

** From Didarath's back, Kassandra tugs her jacket a little tighter around her as they emerge into the icy air. "Yikes," she mutters before giving Didarath the signal to land.

** Didarath follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.
** Isyrath follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.
** Meriath follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.
** Nimoth follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.
** Genevrath follows a chilly breeze to land in the valley below.

You wing your way to the frigid valley with a gust of icy winds.

Shore - Ice Lake
    The sweep of bitterly cold air blows constantly across this high plateau, chilly fingers of breezy ice that penetrate even the most careful layers of clothing. The sunlight here is diffused and bitter, harsh and pale as it trickles wanly over the shadowed scenery - so frail that it might as well be non-existent. Frigid winds blow down through the mountains, tugging on the thick needles that cling stubbornly to the evergreens that grow thin and distant at this height, disappearing entirely just a few lengths higher where the clear mark of the treeline is discernible.
    Nestled into the crook of this high altitude valley, freckled year round with half-melted snow, is a stunningly silver, impressively wide lake of perfectly eerie silence. No waves lap against the pebbled beaches, for the entire shoreline is coated in thick, translucent ice which never melts. During the height of the afternoon, wraiths of steam trickle upward as the pale sunlight manages to barely heat the crust of clear ice - occasionally powerful enough to melt the layers closer to the middle of the lake where one would be advised to tread cautiously. There's a stoic sort of silence here, as if not even the birds dare to interrupt the placid winter calm beneath the cold, blue sky.
Contents:
Genevrath
Nimoth
Meriath
Isyrath
Didarath
Iskandith
Obvious exits:
Lake

** Myrdith dips down from the sky with a gust of icy breezes.
** Marcath dips down from the sky with a gust of icy breezes.

** Astride Nimoth, Vesta shivers, despite her nice new leathers, "This would definitely cool a few fires."

** From Iskandith's neckridges, J'sen glances around with the first /real/ smile of the day. "Now you understand what I meant, hmm, Vesta?"

** From Myrdith's neckridges, J'nah looks around, "Well, this was unexpected. I see what you mean Weyrlingmaster."

** Isyrath settles herself beside Didarath, careful not to jostle her lifemate around too much, as Llilian opens and recloses her riding jacket.

** Astride Nimoth, Vesta nods at J'sen, "Aye, Weyrlingmaster. Quite."

** From Genevrath's neckridges, Cymber chuckles softly, breath freezing instantly into silvery streamers which the wind carries away. "Yes, this is ice." She's leaning down to stroke her lifemate's neck, obviously speaking to the green who is carefully snuffling at the frozen icing which smothers the earth in this strange, new environment.

** From Didarath's back, Kassandra chuckles softly at Vesta while tightening her jacket a little bit more around her. "Makes two of us," she quips in response to the brownrider's comment.

Z'vind opines, "Kealath doesn't think its cold. It's the lifemates who do," and he smiles too, and puffs on an energetic strand of smoke.

** Nimoth rumbles happily and treads carefully to the edge of the lake and pokes the ice with his talons. *crunch*

(Nimoth)
Shadows dance quietly across somber eyeridges in deep umber, glancing down the proud neck of this earthen-hued brown - tipping across the ridges of his spine as they smooth the softness of his hide into a deeply lustrous, highly polished mahogony. Hardwood tempered by the knowing hand of a careful master, the curves of this sturdy brown carved into the softened texture of a velveteen coat in all the richest hues of klah and cinnamon. Green tinged golden brown dapples his slowly sloping muzzle, heightened to misty silver as along the hinge of his jaw and around the coronet of his headknobs. Soft shadows reminiscent of dancing rings trespass the broad expanse of his wingsails, flickering into and out of existence as they surrender themselves to the gaiety of milky glitter that cascades down from the moonlit hues of his finely honed wingbones, with fine dustings of powderlike saffron along the final edges and tips of his wings. Glassy green sheen dares to trickle over the tip of his tail and his hindlegs, waxing itself over the muscles with careful precision.
Nimoth is growing quickly as a Weyrling, with a length of 32.6 meters and a wingspan of 48.9. He appears to be about 1 Turn, 4 months, 15 days old. His faceted eyes are constantly whirling in what you could almost swear was a mischevious way, and they tend to follow you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Kealath
      Conclusive perfection is depicted in every mottled nuance of this divinely crafted brown dragon, his form a complete depiction of the verdancy of a newly born world. Raw earth drifts in darkened crevices across the landscape of his back, broad and deep with the bluish shadows of networking subterranean caves tinged only faintly with the stubbornly clinging fingers of finely dusted emerald lichen. Curving wingbones arch with finely honed precision to support the chaotic imagery of his nearly translucent wingsails, themselves animated to depict the fiery flow of amber-touched lava across the mahogany of virgin soil, rich tresses of curling bubbles that erupt into splattered droplets of illuminated gold. Trickles of these more livid hues creep along the sinuous line of his belly, slowly hardening into duskier hues of obsidian that flicker with mirror-like polish over the warm cinnamon of his heavily muscled hindquarters, a powerful compliment to the chaotic vortex of creation. Thick fronds of burnt sienna billow along his extremities, swirling as if caught on the first breeze of existence to envelop the elegant spade of his tail, the fierce curve of his talons, and the gentle slope of his muzzle in the warmth of a newborn embrace. The crest of the surf clings to his forelimbs, paling the jungle of silvery cedar where waves might lap against a seaward forest, the soft azure dappled with milky brown shadows of a thick canopy's web of overhanging branches.

Kealath is approximately 1 Turn, 4 months, 16 days, measuring 34.6 metres in length, with a wingspan of 51.9 metres.

Dragon> Nimoth bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << Ice! Why do we not have ice at home? >>

Dragon> Iskandith bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << It is too warm for ice at home, Nimoth. But once you have left weyrlinghood, you and your rider will be able to come here whenever you like. For now, we have one more place to go before we go home. Meet me in the sky. >>

** Iskandith leaps into the cold, windy embrace of the wintry sky.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Meriath snaps, sounding remarkably like her lifemate.<< Because it is too shardin' cold. Can we leave soon, Iskandith >>

** Didarath leaps into the cold, windy embrace of the wintry sky.
** Genevrath leaps into the cold, windy embrace of the wintry sky.
** Nimoth leaps into the cold, windy embrace of the wintry sky.
** Isyrath leaps into the cold, windy embrace of the wintry sky.

You leap aloft into the cold, sweeping embrace of frigid winds.

Sky - Ice Lake

    Here, a cold wind blows constantly - the ebb barely passing before another sharp breeze comes to slap across the heights. It's bitter, frigid, inescapable, and a perfect accompaniment to the wintry panorama that spreads out beneath in a frosty display of snow-dusted evergreens and long lavender shadows across icy environs. A high valley lies hidden amid the close embrace of jagged peaks, isolated with no apparent way in or out save adragonback. In the very heart of this valley, glinting with a pale sapphire edge against the wan filter of diffused sunlight, is a richly deep lake frozen over in a thick sheet of impenetrable ice, powdered here and there where new fallen snow manages to dust its chilled surface.

Contents:
Isyrath
Nimoth
Genevrath
Didarath
Iskandith
Obvious exits:
Down    Ista Hold    Between    OOC Room

** Myrdith wings his way upward on the frigid breezes.
** Kealath turns his large head down for a hovering look upon the ice, but he concedes, and wingbeats shadow him rapidly up to join Iskandith.

** Marcath wings his way upward on the frigid breezes.
** Meriath wings her way upward on the frigid breezes.

** Meriath scolds some of the stragglers, hurrying them along up to the sky once again.

** Meriath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** With a blast of cold air, Meriath emerges from Between!

Kealath> Remembering the RedButte area from Iskandith...

The air up here is slightly chilly, but crisp instead of purely cold. The sky, often cloudless, is bright cobalt blue and velvety black by night, lit by the brilliant sun or countless jeweled stars wheeling in their endless dance. Down below, at least in daylight, the ground is reddish in hue, indicating clay rather than soil as the ground's primary composition.

Kealath> Visualizing the redbutte area...

** From Iskandith's neckridges, J'sen follows the drill to a tee, lifting his arm once all have visualized, then dropping it quickly in the signal to go *between*.

** Iskandith disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Nimoth disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Isyrath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Didarath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Myrdith disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Genevrath disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Z'vind scowls with a concentration not his, and rounds his shoulders slightly. The leathers still sting some-- he leans towards a headknob for a murmur before they go.

** Kealath disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Between

Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

The cold void of Between fills every sensation until there is nothing but infinite darkness.

Sky - Red Butte

    The air up here is slightly chilly, but crisp instead of purely cold. The sky, often cloudless, is bright cobalt blue and velvety black by night, lit by the brilliant sun or countless jeweled stars wheeling in their endless dance. Down below, at least in daylight, the ground is reddish in hue, indicating clay rather than soil as the ground's primary composition.

Contents:
Genevrath
Myrdith(#555JOabes$)
Didarath
Isyrath
Nimoth
Iskandith
Obvious exits:
Down    Ista Hold    Between    OOC Room

** With a blast of cold air, Kealath emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Marcath emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Meriath emerges from Between!

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Meriath bugles loudly, in distress! Her wings flutter in the breezes above the butte as her anxiety broadcasts. << I cannot find Saporath. He did not come through. I lost contact with him, Iskandith! >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Iskandith suddenly roars, coming to the same realization a only a split second after Meriath. << We go to search! Wait here until we return! >> A futile attempt, quite likely, but the attempt must be made.

** Kealath startled, turns, turns and turns again -- where? Yet his bulk doesn't support much of dainty movement, and the impulsive arc ebbs into a gentle glide.

** Iskandith disappears *between* again his trailing mindtone grim.

Dragon> Meriath bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << Stay still, weyrlings. No one move! >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Marcath is suddenly frantic...something quite new to the bronze, who is normally quite composed. He wheels about, fighting against the urge to go and search for the missing dragon himself. But he obeys. Fear in his breast, he obeys.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Nimoth seems to hover for a moment as if forgetting how his wings work. Saporath was a dear friend and Vesta and his rider were rather close. When he does remember to fly, his wingbeats are faltering. Vesta is very tense on his back as the Weyrlingstaff go in search.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Kealath wisks wildfire in the first words he can think of: Sapporah's a friend. Maybe. << I want to look too! >>

** Didarath isn't moving, no more than he has to to remain in the air. The frantic whirling of his eyes betrays his fear and desire to help in the search, though the tense hand of his rider prevents him from doing so.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Meriath shows why she and her lifemate are Weyrlingstaff. With crisp clear no nonsence tones, she commands again. << Stay weyrlings. Obey me. We cannot lose another. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Genevrath freezes the supple flow of her thoughts, replacing the tone and hue of that icy lake into shattered blues and silver splashed with the crimson of her fear and upset. No framed voice, just the crystal projection of her obedience to Meriath and Iskandith both.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Myrdith reaches out to try to find the lost one. He becomes upset when he cannot do so. But he stays. He obeys.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Isyrath's voice is firm, and quite proper, but with that edge that sometimes comes when she's putting her best gold foot forward, << No, we may not go. We may not look. We will stay here, and await Meriath and Iskandith's return. Meriath and Iskandith will return soon. We must do as they tell us. They will keep us safe. >>

Z'vind says, in tones more than grumble, less than shout, "No. Kealath. They--know--better." It's something at least; something he knows about.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Meriath barks << Listen and listen carefully. We are returning to the weyr. Iskandith will come back when he is ready. Have the visualization clear in your minds. Clear yourself from anxiousness. You must visualize correctly. Is that understood? >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Nimoth rumbles softly, a sad, distressed sound, and sends an affirmative.

** Marcath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Nimoth disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Dragon> Isyrath bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << Mine understand, I understand, we are ready to return home. >>

** Isyrath disappears into the frigid void of Between...

** Genevrath does not remain still to hover, she glides herself higher into the span of the sky, then sways quickly back around with a deftly timed turn, releasing only a fraction of the tension that builds within her before she returns to the group and rumbles her assent.

Dragon> Myrdith bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << rumbles a sad affermative. >>

** Myrdith disappears into the frigid void of Between...

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Genevrath replies with a simple, uninflected. <<Home.>>

** Genevrath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
** Kealath disappears into the frigid void of Between...
Between

Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

The cold void of Between fills every sensation until there is nothing but infinite darkness.

Dragon> Meriath bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << Go now and wait, I will be there immediately. >>

Northern Sky - Ista Weyr
    Blankets of tangled foliage and black sand color the ground beneath you, their hues melting to form a darkened emerald enveloped by the glittering sapphire of the sea with her white-capped waves breaking along the shorelines. The frothy white crash of the waterfall is visible here, though the tumult of noise is muted if not silenced as the slow, sweet passage of wind carries its tropical warmth throughout the skies.
    A distant mar on the greenery of the horizon is the clearing that surrounds Ista Hold, lying far to the west and barely visible even from this height. To the south, the Weyr stretches it caldera until it greets the base of the mountain, which extends upward to form the four fingers and the thumb which easily mark the outline of the Weyr. Beneath, the jungle clearing and the paths that diverge from it are easily discerned, one delving into the jungle while another heads down to the black sands of the beach and yet another opens onto the long, serpentine curve of the Istan Road.
Contents:
Genevrath
Myrdith(#555JOabes$)
Isyrath
Marcath
Obvious exits:
Weyrs    Upper Sky    Southern Sky    Down

** With a blast of cold air, Kealath emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Nimoth emerges from Between!

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Kealath pauses, foiled. The lowering of his Voice into amber ashes is followed by obedience: stark, wistful.

** With a blast of cold air, Didarath emerges from Between!
** With a blast of cold air, Meriath emerges from Between!

** Meriath warbles nervously but relaxes as she realizes all have arrived safe. Jalani gives the gesture to go down and shouts out. "Northern Bowl!"

** Isyrath winds down toward the northern bowl.
** Meriath winds down toward the northern bowl.
** Nimoth winds down toward the northern bowl.

You wing down to a landing in the northern bowl.

Northern Bowl - Ista Weyr(#21RJa$)
    Huddled into the narrower end of the bowl, separated by the jagged interjection of mountainous inlets from either side of the caldera, this area boasts one of the most breathtaking views throughout the Weyr. South, there lies the wall-encompassed bowl with the shadowed pockmarks of countless draconic habitations and the glow-illuminated interior of the lower caverns. The finger-like issuances of the long-since dormant Istan volcano shoot crooked and irregular spikes into the skyline, casting definite but oddly shaped shadows along the length of the bowl.
    North, there lies the precipice at the edge of the bowl, a sharp but easy slope that trails down to the beach and all her environs. Glittering sea lies at the farthest reaches, enveloping the island in a cool, sapphire embrace as far as the eye can see. The weyrling barracks like to the southwest from here, their gaping entrance almost perfectly across from the large pool that drops off the sheerest side of the cliff to form a frothy-white waterfall. Adjacent to this pool but rimmed by a wooden fence are the feeding grounds where the distant shapes and sounds of herbdeasts filter across, echoing gently between the walls of the bowl.
Contents:
Nimoth
Meriath
Isyrath
Obvious exits:
Southern Bowl    Feeding Grounds    Waterfall Pool     Weyrling Barracks    Jungle Path

** Genevrath wings down to a landing.
** Marcath wings down to a landing.
** Didarath wings down to a landing.
** Myrdith wings down to a landing.

** Astride Nimoth, Vesta doesn't seem to have the strength to dismount. She simply clings to Nimoth's back for the moment.

** From the sky over the bowl, With a blast of cold air, Iskandith emerges from Between!
** Iskandith wings down to a landing.

** Meriath lifts her triangular head to the night skies and creels. Her lifemate looks up to the skies as well and as Iskandith emerges, along.. she crumbles against her green.

** Jalani slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Meriath, the Green lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the she hops to the ground.

** Since Kealath cannot go -there-, he /wings/ down to the ground at dervish's speed, talons screeching their protest on the bowl floor as he lands, barely missing a fellow weyrling dragon. Once there, he raises his head, and meets the crazed keening with full voice, eyes drowning red, yellow, amber.

** D'kar slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Marcath, the Bronze lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the he hops to the ground.

Taking a hold of umber straps, you launch yourself off supple crevices and slide down -- to the ground and whatever lurks beyond.

Jalani simply stares at J'sen, not wanting to hear what she already knows.

Jalien heads over from the southern end of the bowl.

Jalien comes running from the direction of the Living Caverns...

From Isyrath's neckridges, Llilian remains firmly strapped in, until she catches sight of Iskandith's lone return, tugging free of the straps too slide to the ground, Isyrath's voice joining those already mourning the Weyr's loss.

Llilian slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Isyrath, the Gold lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the she hops to the ground.
Llilian has arrived.

Ismaye heads over from the southern end of the bowl.

Ismaye follows at somewhat of a distance after Jalien, biting at her liip curiosly. Her hat, for once, is missing, and she looks vaguely confused.

From Didarath's back, Kassandra is still atop Didarath's neck, eyes wide and haunted as her lifemate's voice raises to join the dreadful keening echoing and re-echoing throughout the Weyr Bowl.

Myrdith turns his head skyward when he sees Iskandith. When he notices that he is alone, he joins in and adds his sorrowful keeling to those that have already realized. ON his back, J'nah closes his eyes against the realization.

Iskandith comes to a most ungraceful landing, something rarely, if ever seen from him. His color is seriously dimished, faded, almost. A sure sign of too much time purposefully spent between. J'sen practically falls down his side, shaking his head as he pulls away his gear and throws it away violently. "They're gone," he says flatly. "I looked everywhere."

J'sen eyes the ground far below for a moment before slipping down from Iskandith with the help of a foreleg and the sturdy straps.

J'nah swings over Myrdith's large back and lands on the politely extended forleg of the gentle blue, then hops lightly to the ground, dusting themselves off.

Genevrath sets her dulcet tones to the keening loss of the others, strident this once. Upon her back, still strapped in, her rider awaits the cries ending before numbly extricating herself and slipping to the ground, where she stumbles and catches up with a hand at her dragon's side.

Cymber slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Genevrath, the Green lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the she hops to the ground.

Jalien looks around, "What happened?" desperately trying to see her brother and Cymber in the crowd.

Jalani looks back at Byara who is still atop her lifemate, and has passed out from shock. She says in a soft voice that seems to carry across the chaos. "Someone, deal with her..."

Z'vind hangs on, hangs off. He slips feebly to the ground, onto shaky feet that try to prop the weyrling up against a dragon who insists on moving away, to join the rest of the mourning wings. A palm slaps against hide, and the lad looks startled, dashes a look around. "Why's he this colour? Sapporah is--" Let someone else say it, now, if they haven't already. "Weyrlingmaster. You-- sure."

Nimoth sits back on his haunches, wings spread wide as his low, distressed keen blends with those of the other dragons. Vesta, still on his back, continues to cling until Nimoth settles again, a low whimpering his only sound as Vesta unstraps herself and slides from his back, legs crumpling under her as she hits the ground. But she remains there, hands creeping up to drag her goggles and helmet off.

From Didarath's back, Kassandra comes to herself enough to hear Jalani's voice. The blue weyrling slides from Didarath's back and heads over to the side of Byara's lifemate. "Someone want to help me?" she asks quietly.

Kassandra loosens the fighting straps and slides down Didarath's shoulder, landing lightly on the ground below.
Twilight has arrived.

Vesta dismounts Nimoth's back, sliding the last meter or so to the ground.

J'sen swallows hard and nods at Z'vind's question mutely as he strides over to help Kassandra. "Undo the straps and I'll lift her down," he says, literally scaling the side of the stunned green.

Ismaye watches, biting at her lip, and finally shakes her head, taking a step back. "My--Shards." Yes, that's as much as you'll get out of her.

D'kar is off of MArcath's back, standing before the dragon, goggles atop his head, one hand upon the dragon's muzzle and his cheek pressed just beside. The two seem to be shaken, and if one were to look close enough, they might note that the bronzerider is crying.

Llilian frowns, running around Isyrath, who doesn't really seem to notice her lifemate, the girl moving towards Byara, as Jalani's order comes through, but kass and J'sen are there before she can do much of anything, and so she just waits, to be called, "Calm her, Isyrath." is about all she ahs to say right now.

Jalien finally sees D'kar and is beside him immediately, "D'kar.. you're alright.."

Kassandra has already clambered up the green's back, and is working ferociously at undoing the straps tethering Byara to her lifemate's back. As the last buckle comes undone, she catches the unconscious girl quickly as she slides unexpectedly to the right. "Whoa," she mutters softly, her own grief momentarily subsumed in helping others.

Twilight flitters in as fast as his wings can carry him. He is crooning a mourning creel but it's also mixed with a chirp of danger. In a minute he flutters to Myrdith and begins chittering up a storm telling the blue dragon something urgent.

A certain brownrider is doing some crying of her own as she stumbles to her feet. She leans against Nimoth for strength and mourns the loss of a dear friend, unable to move forward and help with Byara.

Jalani walks back with a skin of water, handing it to the ones attending the prone weyrling. She winces as her lifemate continues to kreel and creen in minor, mournful wails. "Shhhh love, you did all you could.. you couldn't make them pay attention."

Z'vind asked a question. Or half a question -- and got an answer. He shakes his head as mutely, face waning to eyes' ash. The brown's hide mimicks the lad's expression: crumpled, worn, grey-brown. Shoulders sag, as he shuffles up to D'kar. "They're gone," roughly, dimly, "no use whining, is it."

J'nah manages to get down, but not much else. He heard Jalani's request and moved to help, but he got there too late, and it just standing there, in a daze.

Cymber's eyes drift to Byara, but others have beaten her there. She's not even got enough presence of mind at the moment to inwardly curse herself for being so slow or to note the fact that silent tears have drenched the face she turns and presses against some part of the mournfully creeling Genevrath.

J'sen pauses to steady Kassandra if needed, then takes Byara's weight against his shoulder and manages to get her to the ground. "Ismaye," he starts to say, his voice cracking, "could you please round up some help and get klah, lots of warm klah. And it wouldn't hurt to lace it liberally with something."

D'kar can hear the voice of his sister, and his eyes open a crack as he pulls his face from Marcath's touch. That done, he turns around and might well shock the shards out of his sister when he embraces her.

Byara stirs slowly. By the time she is lifted to the ground, she is fully conscious, but by her expression, she wishes she was dead. "He..is gone. Isn't he?"

Jalien holds onto D'kar tightly, "I heard the keening and I was so worried.. I remember when my mother died... I was so worried." tears streaming down her own face.

Ismaye's head shoots up, and she nods, quickly. "Yes, Weyrlingmaster. Right away." Her eyes move towards Jalien, notes her occupation, then turns to go. "Should I have it brought out here, or to the barracks?"

Kassandra helps J'sen lower Byara to the ground, carefully keeping the green weyrling from falling any further. Now that the task at hand is done, her own eyes fill, and she swallows back a lump that seems to have formed itself in her throat. Byara's question is answered by no more than a nod, as it seems that she can't get out any other words.

Twilight heads off toward the southern end of the bowl.

Vesta brushes away her tears and breathes deeply, trying to find a semblance of composure. She pulls away from her dragon and forces herself towards the small group around Byara, stumbling a bit before falling to her knees beside the others.

Twilight heads over from the southern end of the bowl.
Twilight passes through followed by a healer.
Twilight follows the steep trail for the jungle, disappearing beyond the foliage to the clearing.

J'sen glances over at Ismaye again, with a nod. "Here, please. We're not going anywhere," and that seems to be an order to the weyrlings as well. Whatever he says to Byara is in audible to anyone else, but there are tears his eyes as he speaks.

Llilian steps closer to the pair assisting the now conscious greenrider, a hand resting, if only for a moment, on J'sen's arm, before she moves towards Kass, "Kassandra..." is all she can get out, before she reaches out a hand to the bluerider.

Ismaye returns the nod, and then she's gone, hurrying, if not moving from a walk.

Byara nods slowly, looking down at the sands and holds onto the skin that someone passed her as if it were her lifeline. Her lifemate curls her tail around the weyrling and together, they begin the process of grieving.

Kassandra watches Byara for a moment longer, as if to make sure that the girl is in fact all right. Llilian's quiet voicing of her name provokes that which she was trying to withhold--the tears start flowing, and she chokes back a sob.

Z'vind steps away from that particular scene he was at. He just looks at Kealath instead, blankly; steps away from there too. "It's hopeless, you know. He went, just like that. Nothing left," he growls accusation, and stoops against the brown's wingsail. The large orbs still whirl anger, and the weyrling aptly reflects the tumult.

Jalani is strangely silent as she leans against Meriath, her usual snapping blue eyes now subdued and almost black in their grief. "I should've grounded him when I saw he wasn't listenin'"

Serriena comes up the steep trail from the jungle clearing.

Cymber just can't walk any closer. Byara's soft voice has roused the woman from her painfully silent weeping, and she's turned around to lean back heavily against the hide of her lifemate, who has not yet stopped her keen grieving. Something the other greenrider says eventually pierces her numb mental veil and her eyes, wide and dark, shift from the gathering group to D'kar, making some mental connection that leaves her even paler than before.

Llilian really is doing her best to withhold her own tears, but as the goldrider sees the person that is likely her best friend dissolve into tears, she does the same, reaching out to offer a hug to Kassandra, Llilian likely taking as much comfort from the presence of a friend as she tries to give.

J'sen stands and leaves Byara to her lifemate, the only real comfort that she's probably accept at this point, then practically growls at Jalani. "No." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, claming himself. "No, Lani. He seemed to calm down and listen. He... he probably panicked for some reason. It was just an accident," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Just an accident." Maybe if he says that often enough, he'll believe it.

Vesta's uneasy composure cracks like an eggshell under tremendous pressure surrounded by mourning friends and her face crumples and becomes buried in her hands, "I'pav..." she wails.

Ismaye returns, followed by an army of drudges and lower caverns people, carrying trays and urns of klah, smelling strong, and perhaps a little more than strong. Her face is stony; paler, even than usual, leading the people to a halt, whereupon the klah is poured. Mugs are distributed, Ismaye carrying them from weyrling to weyrling, along with the rest of her crew.

Kassandra accepts the hug from Llilian, trying not to get the goldrider's shoulder too wet. It's a lost cause, though, as both girls are crying now.

Serriena follows Twilight who is still creeling in his small voice. She stops at the line of weyrlings and dragons her face filled with fear and pain searching for the man who's pain will be even worse. Her eyes search for J'nah's figure.

J'nah has since went and sat back against Myrdith, his head hanging in sorrow, his expression one of fear and torment. He mutters, "That could have been any of us." under his breath.

Jalani just shrugs at J'sen's comment.

Marcath is feeling the loss greatly upon his shoulders, but he shows it little His concern is for his rider as well, and showing a remarcable alacrity of thought and control of his own emotion, he is able to be strong for his lifemate during the other's uncharacteristic lapse of self-control. He pads over to touch D'kar with his nose, the bronzerider turnign around with red-rimmed eyes to make a brave attempt at steadying his emotions. His eyes move to look upon Cymber, as one hand seeks out the fingers of his sister.

J'sen watches the distribution of klah closely for a moment before raising his voice to be heard. "Everyone drink at least a cup. That's an order. And consider lessons suspended the rest of today and tomorrow. Take it easy, sleep, rest, cry, scream... whatever you need to do to deal with this. Do /not/ hold it in." Another deep breath, then, "And I'm available to anyone who needs me. Just say the word."

Llilian sighs, as she fights the flow of her tears, releasing Kass if only slowly, "Let me get you a mug, Kass, you sit down, I'll bring it."

Jalani takes a klah, sniffs it, satisfied there is plenty in there to brace her and slugs back a good half of it, not even blinking as the scalding liquid reaches her belly. That done, she makes her way around the weyrlings. In a gentle, yet firm, way, she says as she goes along. "I know you are grieving, but see to your lifemates, they and you will heal faster if you talk to each other. Listen to them, they will help you." Bitterly, the greenrider comments. "Meriath has had to do that for me again and again.."

Z'vind snatches the mug when it's offered, and holds it to his lips, keeps it there. Head buried, he sniffs deeply of the concoction. "Compliments to the cook," the weak words leak, before he shakes his head disgustedly at the ground. He raises the mug to J'sen, Jalani, then. "Hear hear."

Ismaye continues her travels, attempting at smiles to the weyrlings and their masters, as if trying, and ultimately, failing, to look sympathetic. "It's okay," she murmurs, "It happens. You'll be all right."

Genevrath's grief will not be subdued, its keen bite remains though the green's hair-raising creel shades downward into a despondent rumble which she accents with the unconscious flicking of the tip of her tail, a slow tick-tock measure of sorrow. At her side, nearly lost, and looking more diminutive than usual, Cymber accepts a mug from someone, in hands that are still gloved from the flight. Her eyes linger on Jalani, though she gives no visible sign of having heard anything before setting the mug to her lips and drinking a good dose of the scalding brew with no thought of what might get burned in the process.

D'kar is given a mug, and holds it in one hand, his fingers slipping from his sisters' to cup it, his pale eyes finding no solace for the loss of a life within the depths. The loss of a life. The loss of someone he knew, however briefly. Had taken for granted. HAd ignored just this morning on the way to look for...a cup of klah.

Vesta accepts one of the mug of klah and throws it back with a grimace, not bothering to taste it first. She'd drink tar right now if she was sure it was laced with something. Then she pushes to her feet and moves back over to Nimoth, who is curled up with wings covering his head. She slips under one of those wings and disappears from view. Sobs and creels can be heard from that direction.

Jalien puts her hand around D'kar's waist to help support him quietly, rubbing his back.

Kassandra nods in response to Llilian's comment, releasing the goldrider and sinking to the ground where she stands, rubbing at her eyes as she does so.

Llilian accepts two passing mugs as they're offered, and kneels, to offer one to Kassandra, then to rise, to offer one to J'sen, waiting until both have taken theirs before she'll reach for one of her own.

Kassandra takes the mug from Llilian with a nod of thanks, and knocks back half the liquid in one shot, grimacing faintly at the heat and the astringent taste. The rest of it follows more slowly as she sips at it.

J'sen takes a mug from Llilian as well and gulps it back almost all at once. He's silent, simply watching the weyrlings milling around with a total lack of expression.

J'nahgratefully takes the mug of klah and takes a drink of his. He looks up and nods to the assembled Weyrlingmasters. He looks around the assembled crowd and sees Serriena. He wants to go to her, but he also cannot bear to leave Myrdith, and is spent of strength.

Llilian just grabs two more, one, held in her right hand, to replace either Kassandra's or J'sen's, whomever reaches for it first, the other, in her left, she drinks herself, taking slow sips, throat too thick with crying to manage anything more.

Jalani continues to wave her way through the weyrlings until she stands near J'sen. She says very quietly. "Soon, thread falls and .. well, we lose many more. Shards, this job gets harder as you get older. "

J'sen closes his eyes for a minute and nods at Jalani, even as he offers the faintest of unfelt smiles to Llilian for her attentiveness. "I know. I know."

Kassandra finishes off her mug, and sets it down on the tray of the nearest drudge to her. "I've got to go," she murmurs, throat still thick. Slowly, blue dragon and blue rider head off in the general direction of the ground weyrs.

The wing covered Weyrling pair becomes quieter, and the sobs and creels mellow into rumbles and low soothing sounds. Eventually the wings fold back into a more natural position and Nimoth's eyelids slide closed as Vesta lays draped over his neck, caressing his headknobs and half crooning, half singing a soft old tune about a ship rocking on the sea.

Didarath heads off toward the southern end of the bowl.

Cymber stops crying eventually, but only because there aren't any tears left to shed in her possession. The first mug's been history for awhile as she finally regains the presence of mind to actually notice anything that's going on around her. Torn she is, pale face streaked with the remnants of weeping aged by a weight of grief. In the end, prompted by a single note of misery-touched query from Genevrath, she turns back and slides both her hands across an emerald muzzle, seeking and sharing what meager comfort is to be had, even from her lifemate.

Kassandra goes home.

She sees J'nah finally. He is with Myrdith. Serriena wants to go to him, but she stays back knowing he needs the comfort he and Myrdith can give each other more than her. So instead she blends into the background, with an occassional sad creeling from Twilight who knew the exact moment it happened.

Meriath looks for her lifemate, skirting the crowds and settles in beside Jalani, nudging her lightly, reminding her to take care of herself. Not a tear has been shed by the greenrider. But her expression could break a thousand hearts.

Jalien stands next to D'kar, "Do you need anything, sweethart?"

Ismaye slips out, klah distributed, her minions following on behind her.
Ismaye heads off toward the southern end of the bowl.

<Ista Weyrlings> Z'vind wonders if it would be justified for some weyrlings to procure alcohol, for grieving? :)
<Ista Weyrlings> Vesta thinks the klah is liberally laced, Z.
<Ista Weyrlings> J'sen nods. Yeah, Z'vind. In fact, the klah is... what Vesta said. :)
<Ista Weyrlings> Jalani says, "The no alcohol rule has been lifted and the klah is laced pretty heavily."

Jalani looks over to J'sen. "I .. well, need to take care of Meriath. She needs me to be alone with her. If you will excuse me weyrlingmaster?"

As Jalien speaks to D'kar, he is in the midst of downing the mug of klah in one great oull. That done, he lowers the thing, his eyes defocussing as he looks at Cymber. But his words, as he strokes a worried, mourning Marcath's jaw, are for his sister. "Another one of these..." Then he looks to Jalien, all traces of the overprotective big brother gone, "If you please."

J'sen nods faintly, his gaze travelling to Iskandith. "Go ahead, Lani. Get some sleep if you can," he says gently. "We should all do the same."

Jalien nods and has turned into the overprotective little sister. She moves to get another mug of the enhanced Klah and hands it to D'kar, putting her arm about him again.

Jalani leans against Meriath and nods, the two heading towards their weyr.
Meriath follows the steep trail for the jungle, disappearing beyond the foliage to the clearing.

Jalani follows the steep trail for the jungle, disappearing beyond the foliage to the clearing.

J'nah has reconnected.

Llilian finishes her klah, offering a farewell to Jalani, before she turns to the Weyrlingmaster, "Should we start getting everyone ready to go home, Weyrlingmaster?"

Vesta slides off Nimoth's neck as the brown dragon sleeps and she looks rather...well, we will leave it at plain BAD...and pads over to the brown's flank and pulls out a small box of polished wood. She opens the box and stares into it for a moment. She closes the box again and takes it, striding over towards J'sen.

J'sen nods, finishing off another cup of klah. "Yes, Llilian, that's a good idea. Trying to get some rest will be best for everyone. It's been... a draining day." He glances up in time to see Vesta's approach and takes a few steps toward her. "How're you doing?"

Vesta simply shakes her head. No lying there, "I'm not doing to so hot, actually...but." She shoves the box into his hands, "This is a gift I was saving for graduation. But I thought you might could use it now."

Llilian steps away from J'sen, offering a few soft words in Vesta's direction, though she doesn't wait for a reply before she moves off, beginning the task, along with a few others, of preparing the remaining weyrling pairs to at least move enough to return home.

The second cup's cooler, a bit stronger on the lacing, though Cymber's not in the frame of mind to notice. She's gotten her gloves off, and her helmet and even loosened her jacket by now, and downs the first half of this one in a single pull, still shaking slightly, but looking more in control. Her eyes travel the distance to D'kar, and there they linger, though the snaking of Genevrath's head steals her attention. She ends up nodding to the green, finishing off the contents of the mug and gets to preparing herself for the short flight homeward.

J'sen looks bewildered at the box, but he's working on automatic pilot right now and opens it, glancing down. A very wry smile touches his lips briefly. "Very approapriate," he murmurs softly. "My thanks, Vesta. I..." and that's about all he can say, his control wavering visibly.

Vesta places a kiss on the WeyrlingMaster's cheek and her eyes glitter with tears, "Just remember we all love and respect you, WeyrlingMaster. And that we might be here for you, too." With that, she turns and moves back towards Nimoth, stopping to watch him sleep, possibly considering how she'll get to her weyr tonight.

J'nah pulls himself back to vertical and hands off his now emptied mug of klah to a passing kutchen aide. His head isn't as clear as normal, but thats probably good. He waves on his feet for a moment, then looks at J'sen, "May we go Weyrlingmaster?"

"Thank you, sister..." says D'kar, leaning his tall frame to kiss her on the cheek. "We shall speak soon. I love you." That said, the weyrling turns to see Cymber readying for her flight home, and then moves to Marcath's side. "Thank you, as well, my love," he intones, before mounting the stoic bronze and strapping himself in.

D'kar steps up to Marcath's bent foreleg as the Bronze crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. D'kar swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

Llilian continues through the gathered weyrlings, many moving off, taking wing, to the upper weyrs, while others move towards the cottages, and ground weyrs, Isyrath remaining, offering comfort in the warm thoughts she sends and the light croons she offers as the dragons pass here hither and fro.

Kilari has arrived.

Jalien sighs, "Is there anything I can do for anyone else?"

Kilari walks in, flopping into the first seat she finds.

Kealath has recovered from his patient vigil, thankfully, and takes himself off to a quieter corner where a few other weyrlings still linger. Z'vind trails, holding on to a lowered wingtip, and confers, hush-voiced, with a mahogany-haired girl there. More than a few mugs have been drunk all round, and they exchange murmurs, and don't look like they'll move anytime soon.

By dint of Genevrath's aid in bending, Cymber gets herself righted between the appropriate ridges and straps herself in. Though, once she's there, she gets a much clearer view of things. "Do you need a ride up, Vesta?" she asks, voice pitched to carry only as far as necessary to reach the other weyrling.

Marcath leaps aloft, following a thermal to bring himself higher in the sky.

Vesta looks up towards Cymber then, shaking her head, "I couldn't leave him tonight. I will sleep here." That is said very matter of fact. She goes over to settle in the curve of Nimoth's great tail before calling, "Thank you, Cymber. Sleep well, dear friend."

From the sky over the bowl, From Zianneth's lower neckridges, Goran just hangs on, managing not to look down at the sweeping drop below, muttering to himself as his fingers clench a bit tighter.

J'nah and Myrdith get up and move out of the immediate area. Once clear of the rest of the remaining crwd, J'nah runs over to Serriena and gives her a deep, silent embrace.

Llilian slips away from the gathered weyrling, having caught some thread of conversation or another, disappearing into the barracks, only to come out, a short while later with a mound of covers, which she carries over towards Vesta.

Cymber hesitates, she does, face displaying concern for someone other than the lost weyrling for the first time since it happened. "Could you grab her a blanket?" she calls down to one of the mug-distributing drudges, not looking away until she gets an affirmative yes. Then, with a nod, she weakly lifts her hand to the others, those that'll notice, and then both she and her lifemate head upward.

Cymber steps up to Genevrath's bent foreleg as the Green crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. Cymber swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

Genevrath leaps aloft, following a thermal to bring herself higher in the sky.

J'nah has partially disconnected.

Vesta looks up towards Llilian with a faint smile, looking quite comfortable in her tail nest, "For me?"

From the sky over the bowl, Zianneth follows a thermal, winging her way over toward the southern sky.

Her arms wrap around J'nah providing him with the support and comfort he needs. Serriena lightly strokes her fingertips through J'nah's hair like a mother comforting a child. She says nary a word, simply holds him in that tight embrace.

Z'vind goes too, ostensibly alone. Kealath joins another weyrling in taking off, their riders hunched over necks, blue and brown. Comfort appears more desirable, together.

Kealath
      Conclusive perfection is depicted in every mottled nuance of this divinely crafted brown dragon, his form a complete depiction of the verdancy of a newly born world. Raw earth drifts in darkened crevices across the landscape of his back, broad and deep with the bluish shadows of networking subterranean caves tinged only faintly with the stubbornly clinging fingers of finely dusted emerald lichen. Curving wingbones arch with finely honed precision to support the chaotic imagery of his nearly translucent wingsails, themselves animated to depict the fiery flow of amber-touched lava across the mahogany of virgin soil, rich tresses of curling bubbles that erupt into splattered droplets of illuminated gold. Trickles of these more livid hues creep along the sinuous line of his belly, slowly hardening into duskier hues of obsidian that flicker with mirror-like polish over the warm cinnamon of his heavily muscled hindquarters, a powerful compliment to the chaotic vortex of creation. Thick fronds of burnt sienna billow along his extremities, swirling as if caught on the first breeze of existence to envelop the elegant spade of his tail, the fierce curve of his talons, and the gentle slope of his muzzle in the warmth of a newborn embrace. The crest of the surf clings to his forelimbs, paling the jungle of silvery cedar where waves might lap against a seaward forest, the soft azure dappled with milky brown shadows of a thick canopy's web of overhanging branches.

Kealath is approximately 1 Turn, 4 months, 16 days, measuring 34.6 metres in length, with a wingspan of 51.9 metres.

On, over, all aboard! You approach Kealath, the brown offering a descending foreleg for an extra step up, then drop into your customary cave on the broad neck.

You leap aloft, finding a warm thermal to carry you higher over the bowl.

You follow a breezy thermal to the southern sky.

Z'vind's and Kealath's Weyr

    Spacious if not exorbitantly so, the stone environs of this weyr are relatively clean. Some remnants of residents past remain, however, in the way of a stray rug or an old pillow. Otherwise, the weyr is mostly empty with a cot in one corner and a chest of drawers in another. A stone couch has been hollowed into the floor and the ledge reaches out over the bowl, scratched by the talons of countless landings.

Obvious exits:
Out

Taking a hold of umber straps, you launch yourself off supple crevices and slide down -- to the ground and whatever lurks beyond.

=========================== Ista Weyr =============================
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first dozen jump *between* for the weyrlings were victoriously well done. Once they'd mastered the jump between weyr and Hold, Jalani and J'sen decided to take them to the Ice Lake. Again, all went well. It seemed that the handful of weyrlings that had been less than serious about the lesson had settled down well. It was the jump from Ice Lake to Red Butte that led to tragedy, all coming out of between except for I'pav and his blue Saporath. J'sen and Iskandith searched for him, hoping beyond hope that he'd simply returned to the weyr or the Hold by accident, but it soon became apparent by the keening of the dragons that one of their own had been lost.


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