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.

Weyrling Barracks - Ista Weyr(#57RAJ$)
    Smooth stone walls slope upward to form an almost perfectly domed ceiling, barren of decoration but lively nonetheless. It's a massive cavern, hollowed out with a few smaller protrusions that seem to imply various sections with various uses. The largest of these caverns the one furthest from the entrance must be the sleeping area, where there are nearly a hundred cots tucked beside rush-lined depressions of various sizes, all large enough to play host to a growing dragon. Adjacent to this is a lesser but still impressively large outlet with slate boards and various items with instructing purposes.
    Smaller demi-caverns delve into the depths of the mountains, some used for storage and some for instruction and some for multiple purposes. Oil vats with rows of buckets, paddles, cloths, and rags hover about in one of these areas, the ground continually cleaned that little of the slippery substance clings to stone floors. Just beside this is a pile of what appears to be straps-in-the-making, a tangle of leather and buckles thrown over benches and hung from metal hooks in the walls. Despite the ordered chaos of the interior, there is a homespun quality to these barracks - an escape for those who are set here to learn and grow together.
Obvious exits:
Weyrlingmaster's Weyr       Bowl

The calm before the storm; an unsuitable term. Tension hovers thickly in the air, humid, heavy, and oppressive, cloaked in greenish grey. The skies above crackle with electricity, and the local birds, safe in thick foliage, chatter nervously amongst themselves; abruptly, all is silent. But then an ominous rumbling growls in the distance, like flights of dragons awaiting Fall, and a dry wind hisses through the jungle -- a flash and a barrage of sound, and the storm is on, torrents of rain sheeting down from roiling clouds of ashen hue.

It's late night when Z'vind comes in from outside the barracks, tugging at sweat-lined collar of his shirt, glance immediately sweeping to one dragon-sized depression among the many in the room. Boot-falls trail behind his path, as well as patches of damp.

A mop of black caps an awkward seeming demeanour, dripping askew over one ear in unpractised roguishness. His face is highly angular, sly curve of cheek almost childish in the peak of youthful delicacy. Grey eyes and clipped chin straggle casually together with the rest of this youth's sturdy but slightly lanky form, long legs claiming a striding gait as an obscure slur marks alto voice.
His outfit appears smart for once, for its a uniform: black shorts underneath a bright gold tunic that matches his Istan Weyrling's knot exactly. The tunic is untucked, it's shimmering threads loose over a non-existent belly; a knot's loop intrudes upon his shoulder, tangling a single cord of brown.

He is 14 Turns, 4 months, 20 days old.

Kassandra glances up from her spot on her cot, where she has been sitting with her nose in a book and one hand rubbing Didarath's headknobs. "Heya, Z'vind," she greets her fellow weyrling cheerfully.

        Statuesque, well-proportioned, with a face so full of character that mere beauty becomes superfluous. Thick amber-gold hair tumbles to mid-back when not confined in a tail or braid of some sort. Lean, athletic figure, with enough curve to display gender but not enough to be considered buxom, could be that of a runner or dancer of some sort. Brilliant cornflower-blue eyes, shaded by long sandy lashes, glitter at you from a face of smooth ivory porcelain. Pinky-mocha lips are quick to smile, and a hint of humor lingers around their corners. Her carriage is distinctly aristocratic, her demeanor refined and gentle--every inch the lady of nobility she was born and bred to be. She appears to be 15 Turns, 11 months, 24 days old.

        Kassandra is clad in the uniform of a weyrling at Ista Weyr. Her black shorts are rather short indeed, showing off a pair of long, well-muscled legs. Said shorts extend about four inches beyond the hem of a fitted white short-sleeved tunic, laced up the front with matching white cords. The outfit is completed by a pair of low black wherhide ankle boots, turned down at the cuffs to show a softer wherhide lining. Her shoulder-length amber hair swings freely, brushing at the back of her neck.

        Pinned to the shoulder of Kassandra's outfit is a knot of orange and black, twined with blue--a blueriding weyrling at Ista Weyr.

Belena has connected.

"Kassandra," Zar calls, with a slight smile that comes lamely, crinkled at the edges. He shuffles up to the sleeping form of Kealath; sighs heavily, and then just turns to look at the tableau of girl and blue dragon. Such a touching scene, actually.

Kassandra chuckles, marking her place in her book with a stray scrap of hide and brushing her hair out of her face. "How goes it?" she asks the brown weyrling jovially. Her free hand continues to rub at Didarath's head, while said blue croons quite happily.

Cheer might do for the older girl, but not for this Z'vind: the one who gloats over Kea's dozing form, and even acquires a sudden smirk. "Marvellous," and why is he whispering, "as you see, /he's/ fast asleep. Had a long day." One hand scratches at his chin; dismissal. "How are you and yours--"

At the sound of voices, Belena stirs on her couch, where she lays curled up near an equally sleepy Aiareth. Slowly she sits up, rubbing her green eyes and blinking to focus on the speakers.

Kassandra raises an eyebrow slightly, but responds pleasantly. "Didarath and I are quite good. He took a long nap, and says he doesn't want to sleep again right now." She chuckles lightly before the movement on another couch catches her attention. "Sorry to wake you up, Bel," she says slightly ruefully.

Belena groggles, "It's okay, we've been asleep for hours now." She yawns and stretches, "You know, it's funny. I'm not usually so tired early in the day but as soon as this 'little' one starts to fall asleep, I can't seem to keep my eyes open!" She sighs and scratches an eye ridge on her lovely waking green.

Z'vind's palm wanders on to pick at unresisting skin. He softens the next step, one more away from his cotside. "I see. Weyrling dragons are that way, that's what they all say." And perhaps he doesn't choose to believe, but who knows, with him -- "Belena," and just to be contrary, "I'm not tired. At all."

Kassandra chuckles, although her gaze is somewhat guarded. "How's Aiareth, Bel?" she asks instead, as Didarath bumps her hand gently.

Belena perks at this question, "Oh, she's doing just fine!" A highly amused smile plays on her lips, "She's a bit exhausting at times, though. Every little thing just amazes her and she insists that I share in the 'wonder' as well! Do you know that /I/ actually have gotten up every day to watch the sun rise ever since her hatching? /Every/ /day/!"

D'kar has connected.

Z'vind uncloses his jaw, wider than his hushed stance; the hands pause in their endless fidgets to slide deep into shorts' pockets. Deep, as he grapples with an urge to open his mouth, the struggle not to /see/. "No, don't. Sleep," he snaps towards the brown, inadvertently causing a weyrling pair down the row to stir slightly. Then for Belena, he approximates a grin, eyes greying.

D'kar heads out beneath the arched exit to the bowl.

Kassandra chuckles as Didarath bumps his head against her hand. "No wonder you were tired." She reaches over with her free hand and sets her book on top of her press. "How about you, Z'vind? Is Kealath well?"

D'kar comes in beneath the wide archway from the bowl.
D'kar calls Marcath closer to him.
D'kar heads out beneath the arched exit to the bowl.

Z'vind nods, "he's well. Too well, and--" he shrugs suddenly, shoulders shrugging high, "--he's a difficult dragon to keep. Food all the time, and a hundred other things besides." In the same breath, he adds faintly, "Good thing I can handle him." Gaze wanders, fastens on Kealath for one moment, and wavers--away, back to the weyrling pair.

Llilian has arrived.

Dragon> Kealath and Didarath sense that Aiareth croons to her clutchsiblings, <<Good evening! Have you been out to see the beautiful pools with the waterfall? Belena took me there. You should come see it!>>

Dragon> Kealath and Aiareth sense that Didarath sends an image of the pools in question, inquiringly. << These pools? >>

Llilian crawls out from behind Isyrath's couch. Hiding perhaps, or just escaping, "I'm coming, I'm coming." A few minutes to rise to her feet, and put herself to order, before she makes her way into the main room. "Kassandra, can I ask you for a favour?"

Kassandra glances up upon hearing her name. "What do you need, Llilian?" she asks cordially without taking her hand from her lifemate's head.

Dragon> Aiareth and Didarath sense that Kealath wavers from his nap, fire slicing cloud. << No I have not. >> And one senses he wants to, and will ask to be brought.

Dragon> Aiareth bespoke Kealath with << Yes, those are the ones. Aren't they lovely? You should go Kealath! >>

Llilian offers a frown, not really certain and then, "If anyone asks where I am, could you tell them that I had to see the Weyrwoman? Trinyth says she wants me. I don't know, if she itches, I won't be here to tend her."

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath slips, slides and slithers through the caverns of your mind. << He is listening. I will, after I speak to him, you know. He will get over it in time. >> Mind circling yours in a possession belying his youth, he nudges -- too hard -- for your rider to help, too.

Llilian continues past. Hopefully someone here will relay her whereabouts. And out she goes, Isyrath fully awake, but still lounging, Nutmeg sprawled out close to her muzzle.

Llilian heads out beneath the arched exit to the bowl.

Kassandra nods at the girl. "Sure." She grins as she heads out.

Z'vind locks thumbs over pockets' slits. He fights against a rip tide: face scrunches into grooves of concentration as he sways on his feet. "Not now, not now," he rolls his eyes, shakes his head. -- "Sorry about that. How can one reason with a dragon?"

Belena stands up and looks down at her lifemate, "Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up. You want to go where?" She listens quietly for a moment and then laughs, "Oh Z'vind!" She turns to the former servant turned rider ( ;) ) and says, "It would seem that Aiareth wants to go back to the waterfall pools and wants you and Kealath to come too." She is grinning from ear to ear, "Finally! I'm not the only one she drags out on these little excapades!"

Z'vind stills, and the only thing that's moving now are his swivelling irids. He backsteps, and glances at Kealath, again. "So that's what I heard you chattering about," he sounds briefly disgusted, but the tones flee as he turns back to the green's weyrling. "Only look? Not s-swim?" he asks, not pompous but hopeful, this time. To please Kealath--

Belena giggles, "Well, I can do the swimming with them if they want someone to join, I can imagine you're not too fond of water these days."

Kassandra chuckles as Didarath yawns most obviously. "I think I'll stay here," she says, yawning. "Didarath says he wants to go to bed. Enjoy yourselves."

Z'vind unfocussed his vision, but the grey just as quickly snaps back to Belena: bright. "What?" He shudders a breath, hands still tucked away. "I mean, why do you think so?" He looks back at Kassandra shortly; nods, and gives some regard to his boot-toes.

Belena pouts, "Oh fine, Kass, stay here," but then, a burst of laughter issues forth from her lips, "But Aia says you'd better be ready for an early morning! She wants Didarath to see the gorgeous sun rise!"

Kassandra blinks twice before grinning. "If you can get Didarath to get up that early, Aiareth, he'll gladly go watch the sunrise with you." There. Try that.

Aiareth warbles contentedly at this. A sound that seems to say, oh just you wait and see.

Z'vind compresses his face to a blank nothingness. And looks at Kealath yet again; who's wedge head is raised above the depression's darkness, peering on with eager curiosity. Magnificent, he is, and inquiring as well.

Kassandra has disconnected.

Dragon> no one sense that Kealath insinuates that /he/ would be glad to help wake - you - up. [meant for Didarath - too late.]

Belena laughs a bit and looks at Z'vind, "You know, before long, she'll try and have the whole /weyr/ up to watch the sun in the morning!" She smiles lovingly at her Emerald Green beauty, "Persuasive little lovey."

Z'vind points out, still expression-less, "yes, if she rises one day." Lips pull up at one end. "You know -- what's it like having her in your head all the time?"

Belena stops and thinks for a moment, then, "Comforting. I never realized how complete I could feel..." another pause, "But strange, for sure. It's nearly impossible to hide anything from her."

Z'vind knows Kealath knows, and that is his fear. "I think I can," he volunteers at length, "if I keep quiet, and think when he's asleep--" Fingers are extracted, also at length. He looks smug, then. "I'm happy for you." It might even be sincere, do'tchaknow.

Belena quirks an eyebrow, "Thanks Z'vind," she feels a bit confused, "I'm happy for you too, you know. I was really excited when I saw you impress."

You say "Ahh, naturally I would. Kea knew I was there all along, he said." He gestures widely, generously towards the brown, humped at one end of his hole. "Didn't see you Impress, though I am certain it was, uh, impressive."

Belena rolls her eyes at the play on words, "Aren't they all /impressive/?" Her expression sours a bit with concern, "Although I would imagine D'kar's was the most impressive of the day, what with Valin's injury and all."

"D'kar and his--" Z'vind acknowledges, "--bronze, right? Whatever happened to Valin after that. Nothing I hope." He was in the niche when the incident occurred, with Kealath - the rest can only be hypothesized.

It doesn't even sound like a question, the way Z'vind ponders, occasionally pausing mid-speech to roll his eyes into a glassy gaze.

Belena sighs, "Well, he can't do much besides rest. He's on crutches." A look of genuine concern melts into her face, "It's been really hard on him. His closest friends all impressed and he doesn't even have his work to keep him occupied."

Z'vind looks vaguely interested. "So," he counters. "What a pain, to be left on the sands that way. Two friends of mine," the sleazy kind, "got left. They were greatly bothered by it. Valin isn't the only one. Maybe he wasn't meant to meet his 'mate this time around." He curls a grin, for Kealath, for himself; for her too.

Belena nods, "I know it, but it's still hard when you don't have anything else to think about." She shrugs it off, can't think about all that with Aiareth awake and listening. "Well, Aia and I are off to the pools. Coming?"

"Tomorrow, I said. Here," Z'vind voices an echo, "you be good and go back to sleep and I'll ask her about it." Embarrassment prompts a glance back to Belena, and he actually ducks his head irresolutely. "To the pools then. But - may I bring a bucket of water back for /him/ though?" Nudge, for the brown. "So he can look at it next time."

Belena laughs at this bizar comment and tosses her arms, "Well, what ever blows your wings." She heads for the door practically dragged by the impatient Aiareth.

Z'vind raises his arms. "Okay, okay, we're off. But its a deal," he mentions towards the weyrling as the creature lumbers to his feet. "Never mind," Zar grabs a bucket, and hauls them both off after the other pair.

Belena has disconnected.

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