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.

You wing down to a landing in the southern bowl.

** Astride Nimoth, Vesta reaches down and swings Delia up, "We must'nt hurry. Nimoth might hurt his wing or hurt his legs."

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

Southern Bowl - Ista Weyr(#69RJ$)
        Spread out along the larger end of the caldera, this end of the bowl is significantly larger than that which lies just beyond the small inlet of two feet of craggy mountains that creep down to form an incomplete partition. The walls of the ancient volcano, long-since slumbering inactive, spread upward with sheer cliffaces that reach into the sky, their outlines reminiscent of four pointed fingers and a thumb. Activity bustles in this area at nearly all hours of the day with dragons or people coming and going throughout the bowl on various errands.
        Tucked into the southernmost wall are the living caverns, the gaping tunnel that leads within illuminated by the glowbaskets set within; just beside this is a larger entrance that leads to the dragon infirmary. The Hatching grounds are found in this area, with a tunnel a ground level just large enough to allow passage for an egg-heavy Queen and a larger, gaping entrance in the side of the mountain for draconic spectators to enter. Numerous weyrs dot the mountainside and the ground in this area, some darkened and some illuminated from within.
Obvious exits:
Infirmary     Caverns Tunnel     Ground Weyrs      Hatching Grounds     Northern Bowl

It is currently late evening on day 13 of the 7th month of Turn 199 of the 10th Interval.

--** Local Weather Conditions **--

A zephyr wafts its way across the bowl, bringing with it the fresh scent of the ocean's coolness, faintly green-tinged as if it had also traveled from mountain passes still choked with snow. The sun warms the landscape, not yet burning the still-new greenery into summer's golden panorama, but warming it into verdant beauty. The sun reflects off of morning dew that burns away by afternoon, leaving behind a pleasant atmosphere in which to work and play. The night's still retain Spring's soft breezes, though nothing of frost is known to these tropical environs.


Dalar nods and brushes his hands on his pants before reaching up for a riding strap and a neckridge, clumsily mounting behind Vesta. "That's right...wouldn't wanna hurt him would you Del?" Delia shakes her head quickly. "Nope. I like Nim...he's a nice draggie!"

Dalar mounts Nimoth with the help of the riding straps and a proferred foreleg.

"Frosty," Z'vind concludes as he drops off his lifemate's neck with a few broad steps. The winds are strong up there, whipping moisture into his goggles and gloves both. He drags boots up and forward, and leaves for the caverns.

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, 11 months, 1 days old.

You head through the narrow tunnel and into the bustling living caverns.

Living Caverns - Ista Weyr(#94RJa$)
        Vibrant environs enclosed by smooth stone walls, these caverns are the very heart of bustling Weyr life. The largest is massive and designed to house almost the entire population of the Weyr at once, with tables and benches arranged in perfectly neat rows that run almost the entire length of the half-circle cave. Tapestries are flung from the ceiling, draping down in bright hues of Istan black and orange as well as colorful scenes of past heroics detailing all the fiery glory of Pernese history. Hearths line the walls, at least one of which constantly burning with a pot of stew and a pitcher of klah set there to keep warm.
        Tunnels branch off from these central caverns, leading deeper into various parts of the Weyr. To the east lie the infirmaries, both human and draconic, beyond a small wooden door to minimize the noise that will filter through. West are the kitchens and the storerooms from which emanate delectable smells at nearly all hours of the day or night, drudges bustling to and from with dishes and platters. Stairs lead down into the lower caverns while a man-sized tunnel cuts through the stone and back out to the bowl. Smaller tunnels diverge here and there as well.
Auntie Iza
Obvious exits:
Lower Caverns Stairs     Kitchens     Infirmary      Bowl

Tavaris beams down at his bluerider, then cheerfully at the rest of the room. "Good morning, everyone!"

Kealath> Astride Nimoth, Vesta smiles softly and settles Delia firmly in front of Dalar and deftly straps you both in, tight but not constricting. Then she touches Delia's nose with her finger, "Where shall we go?"

Eyebrows arch slightly at Tavaris, even as Kheri swings her path right back around towards Belena. Fingers gently resting on the younger greenrider's shoulder, "Valin.. of course there's no Valin.. and there's no Belena either.."

Valin swats at the pesk that is his bronze 'lizard Cid, and with a chitter that sounds suspiciously like a snicker, the critter veers away to leave Val alone. The stablehand heaves a sigh of relief, then makes his way over to the serving tables.

Jalien nods to Tavaris, smiling to herself.

Kayla glances up at the 'morning' remark. A frown crosses her features, sitting up. She peers around. How'd /they/ get here. Apparently, she'd fallen asleep. She pushes herself to her feet, glancing towards the bowl.

Determination, defiant, dinamic, dilligent are words that come to mind when you spot this budding woman. Eyes ready to stare down any enemy that stands in her way, she carries an odd wary expression about her. Raven hair the color of the night's sky at it's darkest streams down her back until it bunches in curls at her waist. Her face usually is flushed under the deep tones of a tan of someone who'd been in the sun far to long for someone her age. A smudge is forever appearing upon her nose, seeming to dull the haughty mannor she holds herself with. Only reaching 5'3, she holds promise to grow, for her legs take up most of that space. She looks rather.. skiny, her clothing baggy enough to hide her muscular curves and lean teenaged body.
        She has the eyes, stance, and abilities of a thief, the morality of a holder, just enough of both mixed in to her appearance to make one wonder wheather or not they should trust her. Eyes the color of steely grey clouds draw attention to the center of her face to a dainty nose and pouty lips. Her clothing, baggy as it is, manages to keep her looking respectable, dark greens and violets staying clean through all types of abuse.

        Kayla looks about the age of 14 Turns, 7 months, 8 days old.

Kealath> Kealath says hello, even if his rider doesn't. He settles to his haunches, rustles 'sails fastidiously, and rumbles greeting to those present. Dragon, rider alike.

Belena looks right at Kheri and says, quite agitated, "I don't see you." Back to the serving table.

The first thing that you notice about Belena is her fire red hair, just brushing her shoulders, followed by her sparkling green eyes. Eyes that have a somewhat piercing quality when focused directly at you. She is quite beautiful, with high cheek bones, creamy skin and delicate pink lips. Her blazing locks just brush her shoulders, the maximum length for weyrlings. She wears the uniform of a weyrling. A form-fitting white tunic, which Belena has made adjustments to so that it fits her curvacious body a bit better. The tunic is belted with a wide leather belt, dyed black to blend with black hide trousers to cover her legs. Knee high boots complete the outfit. She stands about 5'1" tall. Muscular but very curvy. Belena has a sweet smile and a devastating smirk which only illustrates her mischievous nature. She wears only one piece of jewelry, a golden ring on her right hand, it is a signet ring with the letter R' ornately carved into it. On her shoulder, the knot of a weyrling, highlighted with green, the color of her lifemate. Belena is 18 Turns, 0 months, 17 days.

Kealath> Astride Nimoth, Delia hms. "Well...we could go somewhere purty!" Dalar hmd also and laughs. "Um...we don't really know this place too well." Delia nods, a bit exasperated. "I /know/...that's why I said someplace purty." she giggles after that, softly stroking the hide underneath her.

Which Val has reached, by that point. "Dragonlady Belena," the stablehand says quietly, with a faint smile, even as he reaches for a plate.

Kealath> Aiareth wakes for a moment, long enough to shift her lovely, slightly glowing form to a more comfortable postion under Didarath's wing. As she does so she notes that Kealath has arrived. Her whirling eyes fall on him for a moment and she croons a soft, lazy greeting.

Z'vind stamps into the caverns, stamps off evening's dampness in a spate of vigorous boot-shaking at the hearth's rug. "Hello, hello," he comments in general terms, then drops into a chair, leathers and all. Glance for the serving table.

Kayla just glanced your way.

Belena looks up at Valin in surprise, then her brow narrows, "Don't call me that." She snatches her full plate and stomps to a table.

Kealath> Didarath pries one eye open, and rumbles somewhat discontentedly at Kealath before sweeping his muzzle along Aiareth's neck one more time.

Kealath> Astride Nimoth, Vesta chuckles, "I could show you Spiderclaw Island..." She pats Nimoth and gets an affirmative rumble. She glances back at Dalar, "A flight over the sea for a bit bother you?"

Kayla glances once more around the cavern before walking towards the bowl.

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath notes glow, notes form, and admires both. Each to each. He sends an inquiring tendril of thought to scout yours. << You look especially radiant today, Aiareth. >>

Kassandra has been here the whole time, actually, quietly sipping on her juice/wine combination and watching the Caverns. Belena's entrance and subsequent ignoring of everyone is fine with her, considering that she's still slightly peeved at her dragon for curling up with Aiareth.

Kayla disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.

Kheri disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.

Kealath> Astride Nimoth, Dalar shakes his head. "Nope...not at all. What about you, Del?" Delia noddles. "Let's go!" she cries, bouncing a bit again. Dalar grins. "Guess that's a yes again." he says softly.

Kealath> Astride Nimoth, Vesta grins and signals Nimoth into the sky.
Kealath> Nimoth leaps aloft, finding a thermal to help gain his altitude.
Kealath> From the sky over the bowl, Nimoth follows a thermal to rise higher above the Weyr.

Kealath> Kealath can do the wing thing too-- he spreads his and drapes his wingtip over his headknobs for a moment. Glow-eyes watch the gloom, watch the huddled dragonkin.

Z'vind is non-plussed. The table, though, does demand his attention, and he struts over to it, shaking glasses and cups experimentally. "I'm getting something. Anyone want a drink? some water, perhaps?" he asks, turning slightly to address the familiar people. Unfamiliar antics, but.

Dragon> Kealath senses that Aiareth is quite happy with the appraisal, <<Why thank you, Kealath. I feel very good tonight. Sleepy though. Do you see Didarath? He is being so kind you know, to keep me warm here.>>

Valin rather mechanically reaches for a meatroll and some other simple foodstuffs, not even watching what he's taking. No, no. Instead, he's staring after Belena, his jaw dropped. Finally, he's able to stammer out a "S-sure, thankee kindly," to Z'vind.

        5'10". Not a centimeter more or less. Shoulders broad and legs bowed, Valin seems to be a stout, hard worker, but he is definitely not going to bring the marks in at auction for his looks. Shaggy, wavy, shoulder-length, sandy blonde hair is bleached lighter in some places by Rukbat's glare, and his skin tone is that of a Southerner. His eyes are a jade-like green, always frank, and his emotions are easily read. It's rare that his soft baritone is raised in anger, but he does look to have been in a fist fight at one point, for his nose is slightly askew.
        When it is not shading his eyes, an Igen-style high-crowned and wide-brimmed hat rests against his back. His tunic is no-sleeved, as he bows to the heat and humidity of Ista. The shirt is light tan, stained and worn from Turns of good use. A simple length of rawhide cinches his waist, and from the belt are suspended two leather pouches, while a utility dagger is sheathed at his right hip, along with a tucked-in pair of heavy duty wherhide work gloves. The hem of his tunic falls to mid-thigh, and then sturdy canvas trousers of a medium brown color cover his legs. They tuck into high black boots which are often spattered with dust and mud -- sometimes even blood -- but the smooth leather is easy to wipe clean.
        A simple knot adorns his left shoulder, merely twining orange and black cords together. He seems to be about 23 Turns old.

Belena plops herself into a chair in a huff. She stabs her food with her fork and chews in silence.

Z'vind drops his head, raises an eyebrow to Valin. "You sure about that? Water, I mean," but he's already pouring some into a glass, and holding it out in the young man's direction. A smile enters his face. "Quiet evening, I must say."

Tavaris raises an eyebrow over at Belena, then flops into a chair, dragging his rider into his lap with him. Disgusting sappiness ensues.

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath is good today, even if he's not sleepy. << Didarath is kind. But I can do that too, you know. My wing's larger. >> Practical admission, surely, but fondly said, with Nice (tm) thoughts towards his clutchsiblings. << Would you not want to switch? >> His thoughts swim warm comfort, the hotspot from the Istan thermals he's just come from.

Valin says, quietly, "Mebbe ale's th' right way t' go," but he does reach for the water. And although he's still watching Belena -- with a hurt expression, we might add -- he does allow a nod of gratitude in Z'vind's direction, even if it's slight. Forgive the stablehand, he's confused and distracted. He stands there before the food table, fully set for a meal, but he doesn't seem sure of where he should sit.

Kealath> Aiareth responds well to hotspot thoughts. She is awake enough to make the effort to rise from beneath Didarath's wing and daintily slip underneath Kealath's. Fickle, maybe, but she's been with Didarath for a while now. It's someone else's turn.

Kealath> The stillness of the night creeps across ancient hills and streams, spreading a softened misty memory of gently fronded, twilight emerald atop a landscape of darkness, made clear in delicate draperies of fog gently caressing the insubstantially bedecked hide of this jade-kissed hatchling. Reminiscent of a wreath of shadowed flowers are the darkened roses and sprinkled violets that ring the crown of her headknobs, trailing uncertain little fingers along the soft curves of her wedge-shaped head to tickle the hinge of her delicately hone jawbone - a tiny garland of growth that trails down her elongated neck with dramatic pause: Shade dappled illumination beset with ethereal splendor. Hazy shades of silvery dusk and faded lichen dapple her flanks, resplendent of feathered ferns and bladed grasses lent the ambiguous lavender undertones of a moonlit evening, darkening to a shroud of vague shadows - as long whispers of breeze-caught vines might trail from overhanging branches - that seep down her limbs, etching their shape from the velvet darkness. The ice blue twinkle of a predawn, springtime constellation outlines pinions of deep greenstone - glassy as the sea in perfect repose -- swirling with faerie silence only to break into emerald and seafoam where hesitant waves crash across the turbulent lagoon of softly translucent wingsails. Rosy whispers of dawn mark their place amid pointed talons, beckoning to the sunrise that peaks through moistly emerald foliage, wet with the soft periwinkle of early morning dewdrops.

By all appearances, Aiareth is 1 Turn, 5 months, 12 days old and measures approximately 18 meters long with a wingspan of 27 meters.

Belena gasps and stands up, turning an accusitory finger at Z'vind, "You!" To Valin, "Don't drink that water, I'll get you some with my own hands." She stomps over, pours ale in one mug, water in another and pointedly hands them over to Valin with a dark glare at Z'vind.

Kealath> Didarath rumbles, more than a little put out. Fine. Be that way. He curls up in his own little ball, then, and glares.

Kassandra sighs, an exaggerated sigh of relief, before standing up. "There, Bel. You can yell at Z'vind now," she quips before refilling her cup.

Tavaris caught that comment of Z'vinds, and turns his head away from the kiss he was engaged in. "Evening? Is it really?"

Z'vind would perhaps understand that confusion and distraction -- that is, if he cared to. Meanwhile, he hands the glass over, and sets to selecting a glass of white liquer. Wine, maybe. "Ale's right for you, it appears," he comments abstractedly-- but it's then that he's glared at. The lad frowns. "Well, I offered and he accepted. What's wrong with that?" He regroups. "What's wrong with her?" to Valin.

Z'vind looks up, spares a glance to the outside. "Evening," he confirms. A look of bafflement crosses; passes away.

Valin startles as Belena yells and storms over. He nearly drops his original mug in his haste to take the cups Belena offers him. It's actually even more awkward than that, since there's food to consider, too. But Valin sets both upon the table with a clatter, and snatches up Belena's mugs, blinking at them. Too bewildered to say a 'thank you,' he can only turn and blink at Z'vind for a long moment, as utterly clueless as the other fellow, perhaps even more so.

Tavaris smirks at his companion. "We must have lost track of time, my dear. I could have /sworn/ it was morning." Shrug. "Such is life."

Belena scowls at Z'vind. "You let your he-" Oooh... "/I/ want to give him his drinks. Not you." She mutters something about nasty dragons talking her sweet, young, innocent Aiareth into bad things.

Kealath> Kealath smells slightly of fish, but that's a minor thing. He raises the bones of his wing with a faint creak, and enfolds Aiareth within. A croon rolls his snout over to her smaller one: cautious touch.

"Kealath? He's outside--" Z'vind notes, and shrugs his shoulder. "Aiareth's glowing, you know." He sips, glass raised briefly.

Belena looks almost murderously at Z'vind. "She is not. I looked myself."

Kealath> Aiareth nuzzles Kealath in return and reaches out with her daintly little tail to curl what she can of the larger dragon's.

Kassandra downs the last of her cup of juice, and sets the empty vessel down with a -tick-. "I," she says to Belena, "am going back to my weyr, where you can't kill me if Aia decides to curl up with Didarath again." With that, and a wink, she saunters out.

Kassandra disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.

Z'vind keeps the glass attached to his lips. "Mmmm," he manages, casually. So Valin doesn't know-- neither does Zar. "Kealath noticed, and he's an observant dragon." He waves the thing at Valin again, and there's another question: "Did you notice?"

"No," Valin says slowly, drawing out the word. Funny, it's only one syllable. He finally moves to sit, leaving his food behind, and taking his two mugs. The table he finds is his old one -- the quiet one.

Belena sniffs, "I don't care what you say, I think I know her best. She is not glowing." With that, a quiet table with Valin seems like a good place for her. Poor Valin. Very not-quiet Belena's comin your way.

Jalien finally speaks up, "Oh, she's glowing alright, Belena..."

        Tall, for a girl, she stands over 5 and a half feet, with long black hair and dark green eyes. Her skin, tho tanned almost to a bronze color, is still soft, well cared for. Intelligence sparkles in her dark eyes, red lips curve up in a slightly amused smile that is almost always present on her comely face. She could be called beautiful, but in a strangely exotic way.
        She wears a bluish-green dress that turns her eyes almost blue-green. It's simply cut, nothing fancy, but shows a young body with all the right curves a woman should have. Her feet are clad in simple leather sandals the same color as her dress.

Kealath> Kealath can, and does wrap his tail around her smaller limb. He investigates the green's snout once more, wings rustling. His shape shields her from that breeze. -- Stay to his left side now. Riiight.

Valin lowers himself down into a chair and grips his mug of ale tightly. Sip? No, he chugs the thing down in what seems like a single gulp. Poor Valin, indeed. Belena comes over, and he keeps his eyes straight ahead.

"She," says Z'vind, "thinks so too. Reasonably, one must be right when there are witnesses." Kealath's rubbing off on him. The still-weyrling drinks slowly, turning with an incurious glance to eye the pair. The Valin-pair, but perhaps the other one as well, along the way.

Tavaris is very pair-ish, for the moment. His companion stops her giggling long enough to inform Belena that, "My blue thinks so, too. He's never wrong, you know." Giggle, giggle. Of course, Tav's lips are more interesting at the moment, or so she seems to think.

Kealath> Myrdith wings down to a landing.
Kealath> 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.

Dragon> Myrdith senses that Kealath chimes greeting from below as you land, and a sense of possession.

Kealath> Wizened streaks of wispy periwinkle threaded with aged silver trespass with gnarled abandon along the rich cobalt of this nobly hued blue, the brightly dancing shades of sterling trailing merrily from a well-honed chin in soft curls along the breadth of his chest to tickle the curve of his belly. Blankets of wingsails billow as a loose robe might flow sweepingly from his majestically crafted form, the shades and shapes understated but harmonious as the Master's finest harp - plucked with such certainty that the musical grace is evident in every nuance of his demeanor. Crisply cut edges of richest sapphire delineate wingbones and set the daring curve of his talons into a glittering array of ethereal blue fire, nothing of warmth to be betrayed in those mystic shades as they flicker with the barest caress of illumination. Proudly defiant cobalt stands sentry against an onslaught of darker midnight that begins its trespassings at the spade of his tail, bespeckled with a smattering of coldly silver stars that glare menacingly against the otherwise sonorous mingling of genteel blues - the threat of a long, perilous winter intimated in the brisk chill of discordant luminescence. Resonant cerulean will not be so easily overthrown, however, as it blankets sturdy haunches against the wintry siege, a gently covetous embrace that both defies and envelops the lesser hues with its velveteen warmth.
Myrdith is approximately 1 Turn, 5 months, 12 days' old, measuring 28 meters in length, with a wingspan of 42.

Kealath> Serriena 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.

Dragon> Kealath senses that Myrdith responds with a light warble, "Hello friend!"

Kealath> J'nah leads the way into the tunnel, holding Serriena's hand.

Kealath> Kealath has a wing over the slighter, lighter green. His croon's for her, but his head rotates too, speeding pleasant blues at the newcomers.

Kealath> J'nah heads into the long tunnel to disappear into the lower caverns.
J'nah comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.

Valin is simple, and wise in his own way. He says /nothing/. Aiareth's state of glowiness is skirted, so is Belena's attitude (although he can't put two and two together quite yet), as he drinks.

Kealath> Serriena heads into the long tunnel to disappear into the lower caverns.
Serriena comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.

Kealath> Didarath is curled up, glowering. Myrdith receives a discontented rumble. Guess who Aiareth ditched for Kealath.

Belena turns her scowl onto the blond bluerider, "What would you know about it you little tart? If your blue is anything like you are, he probably sees glowing greens everywhere he goes!"

J'nah uses his free hand and gives a general wave to all those gathered this evening, greeting friends with a hello. Then he makes his way over to the tables and gets a mug of klah and smiles to Serriena.

And her happy smiles fades a bit at Belena's words and scowls. Timidly, Serriena edges behind J'nah. Twilight chirps. He sees the food and flits over to the food table. Serriena follows and begins to put food onto a plate for she and him. As soon as she's done it's back hiding behind J'nah she goes.

Kealath> Dalar heads over from the far end of the bowl.

Z'vind is one -tiny- smirk. Large is beyond him. The glass blocks his vision, as he peers above its rim. "She makes sense," and he, of course, is amazed. "Hey, J'nah," he calls when the other rider passes by Zar's place by the serving tables. The rest of the greeting's deferred-- Serri's behind the blue weyrling anyway.

Dalar comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.

The blonde hmphs. "For your information, my blue rarely ever wants to chase. Your green, on the other hand, will probably want to be chased all the time." With that, she sticks her tongue out at Belena. Tav snickers, and turns her face back towards him. "I can think of much better uses for that," he comments, winking over at Belena.

Valin slumps a little in his chair, and that's all that can be said of him.

Belena turns to look at Valin and then at an empty seat near him, "Can I sit there?"

"Sure," Valin mumbles, sticking to one-word replies now.

Kealath> Aiareth cracks open an eye at the arrival of yet another dashing dragon. Her bejeweled eyes whirl approvingly at Myrdith.

J'nah rolls his eyes and makes his way over to an empty seat, holding Serriena's hand as she hides. He looks back to Serriena when they sit down, "Well, sounds fun in here." That is said loud enough for any interested to hear.

The tall young man before you wearing the uniform of a Weyrling. His shorts are black, and above that is a new white tunic. His straps indicate that he is from Ista Weyr, and his Weyrling badge has a blue thread streaming down it, which indicates he has impressed a blue dragon. He still wears an old well worn pair of working boots. The young man himself is very handsome. He has blue eyes that blend well with his light brown hair, cut very short.

Poor Valin. Z'vind wouldn't want to be in his shoes at present. "If anyone wants a drink, there are some here. Good presses, although I can't pinpoint the exact dates." It-- helps.

She says nothing. Nope, Serriena knows better than to draw attention to herself when someone is getting ready to be proddy or is proddy. Yep Jalani did it to her. Blame the green Assistant Weyrlingmaster. No.. Serriena just sits and feeds Twilight and then says, "Hello Dalar" seeing him come through the door. Then she grins, "Where's Vesta?" is asked with a curious look.

Kealath> Myrdith settles himself down on a patch of grass and peers back at Aiareth. A questioning kreel eminates from him and he looks around at the assembled clutchmates.

One word answers are fine with her. No need to talk. Time to ignore. She gets her plate from her former spot and as she passes Tavaris and the blond she tosses them a nasty look and plants herself near Valin.
That was Belena, in case you couldn't tell.

Tavaris blows Belena a cheerful kiss, waves to J'nah, Serriena, and Dalar, and busies himself with his blond.

Dalar has reconnected.

Valin fidgets in his seat, although he pauses in his nervousness long enough to nod politely to Belena when she seats herself beside him. He then looks over his shoulder, either to the serving table, the drinks upon it, or to Z'vind, unsure of which will be of more help. Probably the drinks. The alcoholic ones.

Dalar walks in, Delia as usual in his arms. He sets her down on a chair and nabs some juice from the food table, bringing it over to Delia and sitting down in a chair next to hers. "Here you are, lovely." he says softly, handing her the cup. She takes it and sips it slowlt, grinning brightly.

Dragon> Myrdith senses that Kealath is a warming klah-pot, wafting streamers of steam past you. << Aiareth is comfortable. I am comfortable. >> Don't come near his girl, in other words.

Serriena just sits and feeds Twilight and then says, "Hello Dalar" seeing him come through the door. Then she grins, "Where's Vesta?" is asked with a curious look.

Belena notes the look back and asks Valin, "Do you need something over there?"

Dalar nods back to everyone and waves slightly. Hearing Serriena's question, he blushes a bit. "Uh...she had something to do. She dropped us off and went." Delia waves with a free hand at everyone. "Hi guys!" she calls.

Daral is an 20 turn old lad of about average height, he's a bit on the tall side, but not too tall. His stormy gray eyes usually hold a look of absolute sincerity and seriousness. Probably comes from handling loads of responsibility. His hands are often swept through jet-black hair in a habitual fashion. He's usually very patient with others. His face is not completely unnatractive, but it's sharp and tense, just adding on to his already serious impression. But don't get him mistaken. He's quite friendly and easy going. His voice is deep and soothing, usually used to console others. Overall, he's a pretty good lookin guy. He's got a muscular frame, concealed by a tight, long sleeved white shirt. A pair of tight, black-as- night leather pants cover his legs, and a pair of black boots shod his feet.

A small little girl, looks to be about 5 turns. Wide gray eyes dance with innocence and inner laughter. Black hair falls to loose curls about her shoulders, bouncing when she moves. Her whole appearance is very cute, and almost fierce, as sometimes her eyes take on a stormy look, and they narrow slightly, her lower lip oouting out a bit.

Dragon> Kealath senses that Myrdith reassures his friend. <<She is yours. I will not come near. We will see what happens when she rises, dear friend.>>

"Ale," the stablehand murmurs, and then Valin nods to Belena firmly. "Ale. Be right back," he murmurs, shoving back his chair and taking his mug -- his mugs, rather -- over to the serving table. Both are filled with the Telgari import.

Tavaris eyes Dalar curiously. "Oh, so you're the one who had Serriena so thrilled the other night?" he asks, temporarily distracted.

J'nah smiles at Serriena and leans to whisper something to her, glancing at Belena in the middle of the silent conversation. Then he drinks klah, a smug look on his face.

Belena looks a touch irritated (Ha!) and calls, "I would like something too, Valin. Thank you. Could you bring me some wine?"

Dragon> Myrdith senses that Kealath twists a funnel of dark, unfathomable smoke. << I will be the first, friend. >> Affection though, rests in his warm tones. << We will race, will we not? >>

Dalar hms? "Thrilled? Huh?" yep, basically clueless. "What about?"

"O'course," Valin says to Belena. He sets his two mugs down, then returns to fetch some wine. No need to ask. It's Benden.

Tavaris ums, "Something about Vesta. I'm not sure, I might have been distracted." Like now?

Belena's eyes go distant for a moment as she listens to a silent conversations elsewehre. When they return she flips that gaze to J'nah, just brooding for the moment.

Dalar has partially disconnected.

Kealath> Myrdith stands up and warbles at Aiareth, then whirls his eyes at the nearby brown A tentative step is taken in their direction.

Dalar turns his gaze to Serriena. "Um..." he clears his throat and nods firmly. "That's right." he says, tone more confident now. Delia giggles and sips her juice happily legs swinging in a steady rythm.

Kealath> Kealath has his wing about her. No contest. He hopes.

Kealath> Didarath is still put out. Quite put out. Everyone invaded and took over his green. Hmph.

Kealath> Aiareth quickly darts her tail out from around Kealath's and nimbly slips out from under his wing. She feigns indecision for a moment. A look to Didarath, a look to Kealath, then to Myrdith. Ah well, must go with the untried wing. She pads over to Myrdith and settles in near him. Ah. No fish smell.

Oh yes she's red, Serriena looks down at her food and then catches Belena's look to J'nah. She glances back and forth between the two uneasily and then looks down at her plate. Twilight trills and she gives him a piece of meatroll to keep him quiet.

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath is a conglomeration of smoke and gentle anger. << Why? O why, Aiareth? I am bigger. It is warmer, here. Do you not like fish? >> He lets her go, albeit reluctantly, and pursues too with sneaking amber voice.

Belena hops up from her seat and /stares/ down at J'nah, "How could you! What are you all doing to her?" Oh! She stomps an angry foot.

Kealath> Iskandith heads over from the far end of the bowl.

Z'vind looks away, looks back. "J'nah, your Myrdith's learning from you, it seems." Not that he's unpleased. "Kealath's not too happy about that." Laughter crinkles at his eyes, and he waggles the glass at the older 'ling.

Valin crabsteps away from his table, which he had been returning to, looking for all the world like one of his precious runnerbeasts, shying away from a sudden threat. Some wine sloshes over the rim of the wooden goblet he carries.

Dalar hms when he sees Serriena and sighs. Should he go say something or not? That is the question. Delia, unfortunately, Delia seems to have this nack for reading his thoughts it seems, and she walks over to Serriena, tugs at her sleeve and looks up at her. "You alright Serri?" she asks softly.

Kealath> Didarath snorts even further at that, and curls himself into a miffed blue ball, eyeing Aiareth as she heads for Myrdith next. Grumble.

J'nah raises an eyebrow as Belena, but remains silent. A smile is returned to Serriena. When Belena appears beeside him, he looks at her blankly and asks, "What are you speaking of. I do not control Myrdith. Why don't you go back and finish your meal." Then he turns away from her and shoots a warning glance to Z'vind.

Kealath> Myrdith settles in with Aiareth and wraps his wing over her, then whuffs triumphantly at Kealath. Then he turns to ward off any would be suiters. He shall keep her.

Kealath> Kealath won't snort, nor curl. Didarath's given a glance, Myrdith another, he settles nearby: wistful, wingsails tucked and furled behind him. He glowers from thence, patiently.

Kealath> Kealath
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, 5 months, 12 days, measuring 35 metres in length, with a wingspan of 52.5 metres.

[The Mighty One himself.]

Kealath> Iskandith lumbers over from 'his' section of the bowl, looking quite interested in all the goings on. He takes in the situation and warbles with an obvious tone of amusement before settling down to watch. And maybe he does watch Aiareth more than the other, but that's a trifling detail.

Kealath> A deep, rich shifting effect emcompasses this dragon, one of the largest of his color, even rivaling a few bronzes. Deep golden brown, like desert sands cast in the light of the setting sun melt down his muzzle and cascade over regal headknobs and long neck. Near his muscular shoulders and dripping down over strong wings, the tone grows more intense, as if if sun has gone and the shadows of twilight deepen into a warm, loamy brown. Over his haunches and down his tail, all the shades seem to swirl and mix, peeping clearly out in one spot, only to faed and swirl into indistinguishable darkness elsewhere.

Iskandith is approximately 13 Turns, 4 months, 4 days old, measuring 37 meters in length, with a wingspan of 55.5.

"I am fine Delia," Serriena pats at Delia's hand. But her tenseness belies her words and Twilight creels. She feeds him another meatroll but its discarded by him and his talons dig into her tunic. He nudges her cheek with his little tiny head and she turns her head slightly to nudge him back affectionately.

Delia frowns and shakes her head. "Are not..." Dalar shakes his head and rises, walking over to his sister. "Del, leave her alone, dear. This is a grownup thing." he flicks his eyes around the room, catching on as to what exactly is going on here. Delia looks up at her brother. "But..." "No buts, young lady." he scoops her up and plops her back in her chair, returning to his as well.

Belena, who came no closer than a few steps from her own chair, grumbles something about maleriders not taking responsibility for their own lifemates and, not really looking, reaches out to the table for her wine. Grabing an empty goblet she frustratingly plunks it back onto the table. She looks, for a moment, like she is about to cry. She sits back down and just stares at the wall. "Don't you dare even /look/ at Iskandith. If you're insisting on being like that then fine. Just stay there this time."

Kealath> Kealath claws talons across the bowl's stone, much smoothened by the passage of many, many dragons before him. He swings his head to Iskandith: recognition, then eyes her again, gaze ocean and ivy.

Valin hesitently shuffles back to his table, timidly setting Belena's wine down, then retreating to the relative safety (Ha!) of his chair, his eyes wide.

Kealath> Aiareth warbles a protest at something she hears from her rider. She whuffles and begins to wrap that /slightly/ glowing tail towards Myrdith's. Why would she get up again? It's warm here and it smells good.

Tavaris's blonde suddenly jumps from her oh-so-comfy seat on his lap. "He needs me!" she squeaks, and makes for the door. "Oh, wait. Tav, we really /must/ do this again sometime!" she calls back, then disappears. Tav just snorts.

Kealath> Didarath snorts rather profoundly at Aiareth and Myrdith, settled where he is on the bowl floor, eyes whirling gently.

Belena's not the only one, at that. Z'vind is looking distanced, stuck between a rock and a hard place. He did note J'nah's look, but grins in return, shrugging with boyish joy. A conquered Kealath would please this one.

Serriena just glanced your way.

Belena looks up at the offered wine and then at Valin. "Thank you," she says quietly. Well, something finally went right. She lifts the wooden goblet and takes a sip of the sweet Benden wine.

The blonde crosses Z'vind's line of vision. He snorts too, and dismisses her with a flick of his free hand. "/Girls,/" he accuses of the breed in general, and leans back on the table, throws back a gulp of newly poured wine.

Kealath> Myrdith turns his head at Iskandith and rumbles indignantly, then takes his tail and drapes it over Aiareth's. Hos whirling eyes go from one male to the next then the the green beside him. OH yes, he looks triumphant.

Tavaris grins over at Z'vind. "...Are wonderful creatures. You should try one sometime," he comments.

Valin nods to the green-weyrling, and then grabs up a mug of ale, downing that in record time. "Thinkin' I'll sleep on th' hammock t'night," he says to Belena. Tavaris gets a disapproving look.

Kealath> Iskandith simply snorts and flips his wings back casually, as if to say "Don't pose at me, junior, I've caught more greens that you even dream of". Of course, he doesn't actually /say/ that. Just body language.

Kealath> Kealath arches his muzzle indignantly. That finger-talon claws a speck of stray ground dust at the too-proud, too-small blue. So there.

More klah is drank as J'nah's amusement grows. He watches the blonde leave and shrugs at Tavaris, then turns to Serriena with a smile, patting her hand. Belena isn't ignored persay, but he avoids letting her know about his glances.

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

Dragon> Aiareth bespoke Iskandith, Didarath, Myrdith and Kealath with << Ah, no one will catch me, just you wait. >>

Well, that was the wrong thing to say to Belena, "What? Why are you going to sleep on the hammock?"

Dragon> Aiareth, Iskandith, Myrdith and Kealath sense that Didarath is faintly amused by that. << I would not be so sure of that, Aiareth. >>

Tavaris just beams at Valin. Apparently, Valin's disapproval isn't big on his list of concerns.

"Need actual sleep," Valin says, slowly, and then he gives a firm nod. While he's incapable of lying well, an /actual/ reason will serve. "Don' wanna get... uh... distracted, like. Y'know. Early work t'do t'morrow."

Z'vind groans at Tavaris. "I have, and haven't seen that much that's marvellous about them. Just look at those," he nudges a look to the green's weyrling rider. Example, merely.

Belena's arched brow and flaming green eyes stare down her weyrmate, "Don't worry about it."

Tavaris grins at Z'vind. "That's why you try lots. Mqaybe you'll find one you like, maybe you won't. My friend you just met, for example," he says, gesturing towards the bowl. "She wasn't the best I've had, but she was definitely better than some. It depends on the woman."

Valin shrugs slightly, then downs the last of his ale. "Think I'll be gettin' a headstart on m'rest," he says, pushing back his chair to stand once again. He offers Belena a little smile.

Belena waves, "I'll see you /in bed/." Hint hint. "And I won't wake you either."

Z'vind ticks off on his fingers. "There's better, and there's better," he ponders. "Some are good for this, some for that-- your friend doesn't look like much, if you pardon the slight. I've heard of her name, though." He shifts a boot, looks at Tavaris. "Depends--"

Dragon> Myrdith bespoke Aiareth, Iskandith, Kealath and Didarath with << <<I will catch you green one, I am young and fast. Not old and slow like some.>> >>

Valin nods slightly once more, then trundles out to the bowl without looking back.

Valin disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.

Dragon> Myrdith, Kealath, Aiareth and Didarath sense that Iskandith colors his thoughts with amusement. << Be careful who you classify as old and slow, little one. That's much to be said for endurance as opposed to swiftness. >>

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath will not catch, but he will chase. And /get/, in that absolute possession he masks from the others. His rider might be sheepish in the background -- there's some juxtaposition Within him -- but he doesn't matter. << I know you, Aiareth. I will try my best. >>

Tavaris nods. "I like adventureous ones, myself," he says. "And the women here are a nice change from the ones back home. The ones back home were horribly stuffy."

"Bed sounds good," Serriena stands up very quickly, overturning her chair. She winces and arights the chair back up. "I've an early morning tomorrow. And Jelorum wants us there extra early!" Her words are rushed out and breaming bright with falseness. She steps back from the table and curses, "Shard it." when she runs into a chair behind herself knocking it over. How many chairs are in the sharding living caverns anways? She leans over to pick that one up.

Jalien has disconnected.

Dragon> Myrdith, Aiareth, Didarath and Iskandith sense that Kealath is confident of his full growth, and swaggers it just /so/. << We will see. Endurance we have too. >>

Dragon> Aiareth bespoke Didarath, Iskandith, Myrdith and Kealath with << You are all so overconfident. /I/ am quick, /I/ am agile and /I/ too have endurance. I will get away from all of you. >>

"I couldn't possibly disturb Myrdith right now, so I'll stay a little longer. I'll show you down though." J'nah smiles and looks at no one else as he stnds and helps Serriena straighten the chairs. Then he takes her hand and starts weaving through the tables toward the stairs.

Dragon> Myrdith, Aiareth, Iskandith and Kealath sense that Didarath snorts, and sends a wave of amusement. << You browns are far too large and slow. I am quick and I am small. You haven't got a chance. >>

Kealath> Iskandith just snorts once more, then seems to get bored, settling down for a late evening snooze.

You say "There was one back home whom I actually liked." He stirs, hand reaching back to scratch his nape, and the lad strolls over to join the now rider-less one. "Where are you from? Tavaris, right?"

Belena watches Valin as he leaves and, taking a long sip from her goblet, she turns and glares from rider to rider, "I am not happy."

"It's not-" Serriena starts to protest but says, "Alright." Not that it mattered since he took her hand. She follows him through the tables to the stairs of the lower caverns.

Kealath> Myrdith rumbles another warning and then flops his tail over Aiareths again. His neck curls over towards hers and his eyes color becomes darker.

Tavaris nods. "And you're Z'vind? We met my first night here. I'm from ther healer crafthall, in Fort."

J'nah just smiles at Serriena and makes his way down the stairs to the lower caverns.

J'nah heads down the stairs, deeper into the Weyr.

Serriena heads down the stairs, deeper into the Weyr.

Kealath> Aiareth croons softly but is suddenly /very/ tired. She has just used so much energy finding a new spot to rest! She wraps her tail around Myrdith's and nuzzles into his neck. Closing her whirling eyes, she is quickly asleep.

Z'vind drags a chair over; flops over it, crossing him arms on the back. "Healercraft? Knitted many broken bones since that time?"

Tavaris shakes his head. "Not a healer," he says cheerfully.

Tavaris is a young man, perhaps somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, more likely the latter. He's tall, somewhere above six feet, with wide shoulders, but with the lean, lanky look of a message runner for all that. His features have a slightly rugged look, his deep blue eyes have a permanent amused sparkle, often echoed by the set of his wide mouth. He wears his thick, sandy hair on the longish side, giving it a bit of charming curl, especially around his ears and the nape of his neck.
His clothing is simple: loose, white tunic, klah brown shortened-trous, and scuffed sandals.
Tavaris is 19 Turns, 2 months, 0 days old.

You say "What, then?" He scrutinzes the man for a knot. Shortly, "Surely you can't be a cook or something--"

Belena seems quite satisfied to be rid of J'nah. She sniffs and eats more of her meal. Once through with the food she takes the plate and drops it in a bin and, back to ignoring. She bee lines it for the door.

Belena disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.
Kealath> Belena comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

Tavaris shakes his head. "Gardener," he says cheerfully.

Kealath> Belena is still ignoring. Yup. What dragons? She does glance quickly at Aiareth for a moment. Color check only, you may be reassured. "Moon, that's all it is." The greenrider nods and then continues on towards home. "Nope, don't see you Aiareth, don't see you, Myrdith, or Didarath, or Iskandith or Kealath for that matter. You are /not/ there." Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Z'vind returns as cheerfully, "Never tried it. Herding's useful though, once you get back the basics and start tending to beasts. I'm not aware that the Weyr has any plants to speak of, though. Do you mean our greens?"

Kealath> Belena follows passed the broken partition to the northern end of the bowl.

Dragon> Aiareth senses that Kealath passes on to your lifemate, in amused voice, that he /is/ here. All thirty or so metres of him.

Tavaris nods. "Yep. Kitchen gardens and the like."

Dragon> Kealath senses that Aiareth that Aiareth is sleeping. Her rider didn't hear that. ;)

Z'vind rests his head on crossed arms and eases forward from thence, straddling his chair. "So, Tavaris," he remarks, distinctly, "do you know of any ways to spruce up a weyr, or a ledge? Plants and things of that variety -- flowers and that kind of thing, y'know?" He adds, "Not that it's significant. Thought I might check. Do you?"

Tavaris shakes his head. "I'm still learning a lot of the basics. Hanging ferns might make things nice, though - Faranth knows Ista has plenty of ferns around."

"Ferns," Zar states. "Good idea. My friend likes ferns too." He lowers the gaze to his palms; flips them over. Almost to himself, "Kealath's dozing, at last." Relieved, he mutters an echo, "Ista's hot. Usually not useful weather."

Z'vind mutters about dragons, and rides, and exits hastily. "Later, Tavaris. Or I'll never get back up to my weyr." The old boy's falling asleep, don'tchaknow.

You head out through the narrow tunnel to emerge in the bowl.

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