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		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/api.php?action=feedcontributions&amp;feedformat=atom&amp;user=Lourna</id>
		<title>NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]</title>
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		<updated>2026-05-15T05:14:23Z</updated>
		<subtitle>User contributions</subtitle>
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	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10902</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10902"/>
				<updated>2013-01-26T11:50:33Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter and brush-offs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* Socially inept, Lourna has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It isn't a lack of empathy that keeps stuffing her boot into her mouth, but a lack of social grace and bad timing.                                                          &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Quinlys]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[H'vier]] - Nice (in a manner of speaking) to me, ridiculously hostile to most other living things. Especially faces.&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Barnabas]] - He worries over the strangest things. Holdbred.&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Val]] - I know even less what to think of Val. Pretty, and seems to know how to manipulate a situation for entertainment. Did she...?&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Z'ian]] - I screwed up, and I don't think 'sorry' convinced him.&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Taikrin]] - Something something birthday parties and enormous... uh... toys.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Mentioned In... Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Icons}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{HRW}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10901</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10901"/>
				<updated>2013-01-26T11:36:57Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter and brush-offs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* Socially inept, Lourna has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It isn't a lack of empathy that keeps stuffing her boot into her mouth, but a lack of social grace and bad timing.                                                          &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Quinlys]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[H'vier]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Barnabas]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Val]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Mentioned In... Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Icons}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{HRW}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10873</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10873"/>
				<updated>2013-01-26T02:02:51Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter and brush-offs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* Socially inept, Lourna has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It isn't a lack of empathy that keeps stuffing her boot into her mouth, but a lack of social grace and bad timing.                                                          &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Quinlys]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[H'vier]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Barnabas]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Val]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Icons}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{HRW}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Day_After_Yesterday&amp;diff=10852</id>
		<title>Logs talk:Day After Yesterday</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Day_After_Yesterday&amp;diff=10852"/>
				<updated>2013-01-25T21:35:31Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: Comment provided by Lourna - via ArticleComments extension&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&amp;lt;noinclude&amp;gt;Comments on &amp;quot;[[Logs:Day After Yesterday]]&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
----- __NOEDITSECTION__&amp;lt;/noinclude&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]]) left a comment on Fri, 25 Jan 2013 02:57:09 GMT. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;comment date=&amp;quot;2013-01-25T02:57:09Z&amp;quot; name=&amp;quot;Azaylia&amp;quot; signature=&amp;quot;[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]]&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
...Bones, you are just blazing a trail of perversion and blood, aren't you? Actually, the same thing could be said for H'vier!&lt;br /&gt;
You're both bad boys! *wags newspaper at*&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;/comment&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]]) left a comment on Fri, 25 Jan 2013 03:01:07 GMT. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;comment date=&amp;quot;2013-01-25T03:01:07Z&amp;quot; name=&amp;quot;Zian&amp;quot; signature=&amp;quot;[[User:Zian|Zian]]&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
''I want to fucking kill him''&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See if you get your turnday present from me now! D:&amp;lt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;/comment&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
[[Lourna/Comments|Lourna]] ([[User:Lourna|Lourna]]) left a comment on Fri, 25 Jan 2013 21:35:30 GMT. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;comment date=&amp;quot;2013-01-25T21:35:30Z&amp;quot; name=&amp;quot;Lourna&amp;quot; signature=&amp;quot;[[User:Lourna|Lourna]]&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Needs more rage, imo! Well, not really. Bones, you masochist...&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;/comment&amp;gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Deep_End_of_the_Pool&amp;diff=10835</id>
		<title>Logs:Deep End of the Pool</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Deep_End_of_the_Pool&amp;diff=10835"/>
				<updated>2013-01-25T07:56:32Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: Created page with &amp;quot;{{ Log | who = H'vier, Lourna, Ceawlin | where = Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr | what = Lourna is taking a bath when H'vier interrupts. Ceawlin finds back scrubbing to be work...&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{ Log&lt;br /&gt;
| who = H'vier, Lourna, Ceawlin&lt;br /&gt;
| where = Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
| what = Lourna is taking a bath when H'vier interrupts. Ceawlin finds back scrubbing to be work beneath notice.&lt;br /&gt;
| when = Day 22, Month 11, Turn 30&lt;br /&gt;
| gamedate =2013.1.24&lt;br /&gt;
| quote = &lt;br /&gt;
| weather = &lt;br /&gt;
| categories = &lt;br /&gt;
| mentions = Barnabas&lt;br /&gt;
| ooc = &lt;br /&gt;
| icons = &lt;br /&gt;
| log = It's around that time when people are done with their duties and doing things that need doing before dinner or play or whatever it is that people do with themselves when they aren't working. H'vier is making his way into the bathing cavern looking a little zoned out but the humidity is a welcome wall for the Istan to run into. He finds somewhere to settle down along one wall, sinking down onto a bench and leaning back rather than trying to remove any of his clothes, dark streaks on the side of his thigh, just yet. Just five minutes of rest, ma.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The distracted bronzerider misses out on the fact he isn't alone, but his arrival sends a few weyrfolk scurrying out in towels and hastily drawn clothes. He's gaining a reputation, and quickly. It leaves Lourna, lounging in one of the pools in her skin, rather at a loss. She isn't necessarily intimidated by H'vier, but whatever she feels is--complicated. Or is it? Sinking a little lower into the pool, she wars with herself internally over whether or not to excuse herself. Eventually, Lourna lifts her chin and clears her throat. You know, politely.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
H'vier probably doesn't care so much about being alone, in the end. He's never alone, is he? There's a dragon in his head at any given time. He doesn't open his eyes or move when anyone scurries off. That would require entirely too much energy that he just doesn't have at this particular moment. The clearing throat will make him lift his head back up to glance over toward the more obviously directed at him sound. &amp;quot;Don't let me stop you,&amp;quot; he says before tilting his head back against the wall again, stretching his legs out in front of him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, when a rider tells you to go on about your business... So, turning her back politely to H'vier, Lourna goes back to her business. Which is, of course, washing the grime and sweat from her skin with liberal use of soapsand and the steaming water of the bathing pool. Fortunately, it's misty enough that a large part of her modesty is preserved when she stands to do this. &amp;quot;People don't normally come here to sit and sleep, you know,&amp;quot; she says, sounding puzzled. Truly, she can't appreciate the mental, emotional, and physical weariness that he has experienced these past few days. &amp;quot;Do you need help returning to your weyr?&amp;quot; No doubt Lourna's voice is easily recognizable, though she is distracted by soaping up her skin with a fine lather of foam.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;It's warm in here,&amp;quot; responds H'vier without a pause for thought. &amp;quot;It feels good.&amp;quot; And with his face looking like that, he could probably do with any good feelings he can get at the moment. Not that he sounds very tense or anything right now. Stoned would be more like it, though that's not quite right either. &amp;quot;Are you offering to come to my weyr?&amp;quot; he asks, arms finally moving to start unfastening things that don't take much effort to unfasten.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;It's always warm in here, this is where we bathe, bronzerider H'vier,&amp;quot; Lourna offers, very matter of factly. &amp;quot;It shouldn't be cold in your weyr. If it isn't comfortable, you need to speak with--&amp;quot; And then he's asking a rather intimate question, and she balks at answering. &amp;quot;Do you want me to?&amp;quot; Being an apprentice of tannercrafting, Lourna is naturally given to details, and she is exceptionally thorough. Once every inch of her is covered in a white foam thick enough to cover her, she's settling back into the heated water of the pool. Practically melting into it, in fact. &amp;quot;You're not looking very well, and I didn't see you last night. Maybe you should go to the infirmary?&amp;quot; She doesn't need to ask if his dragon succeeded; news spreads fast in the weyr.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;No shit,&amp;quot; is his response to her matter of fact-ness but there's a decided lack of conviction in the way he says it. There's no fight left in H'vier. It must be a miracle. &amp;quot;My weyr is fine. A little drafty. But there's a hearth.&amp;quot; Apparently he's easy to side track when he's exhausted on so many levels. &amp;quot;It's probably more private than wherever you sleep,&amp;quot; he adds about her coming to his weyr. &amp;quot;I've been already. It was a bad night.&amp;quot; His attention finally shifts to look over at her properly and he rises to start removing the clothes he's been unfastening with no hint of his own modesty. Plenty of bruises. But no modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for Lourna, and less for the rider, the bulk of her more appealing body parts are well submerged under heated, largely opaque water. She rests against the side of the pool, her shoulders pressed against the warm stone wall so that her head can tip again for support. Her dark green eyes slide to half-lidded, though they watch H'vier with poorly concealed curiosity. Peeling down doesn't concern her; it's a communal bathing chamber, and without the tension of the flight gnawing at her, she's considerably less antsy about seeing a man in his skin. His bruised, battered skin. Lourna leaves alone the fact that he is more battered than last she left him, biting her tongue. &amp;quot;Well, of course it is. Apprentices aren't given their own separate rooms. The weyr doesn't have space for that. We sleep in dorms,&amp;quot; she offers conversationally.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;I know,&amp;quot; is the only other response H'vier offers for now, too tired to be charming or anything coming close to it. He finishes with his clothes and soon enough he's moving to sink into the warm water with a contented sigh. He'll just sit there, though, tilting his head back against the edge of the pool much like he'd done the wall before. Maybe it's a good thing someone else is in here so he doesn't fall asleep and drown.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;I would not be adverse to it,&amp;quot; Lourna says very slowly, wetting her lips. &amp;quot;Are the dragonriders less accessible to you?&amp;quot; Surely, a bronzerider has better tail to go after, and Lourna wouldn't argue it. Those ladies are /capable/, and swoon worthy even to one with a preference for men. She takes care to maintain her modesty, and when he relaxes in a slump against the opposite wall of the pool, she moves. Smoothly slipping through the water with the mostly waterproofed leather bag in hand, the young woman falls still within arm's distance, hovering. &amp;quot;Do you need help washing? I am not trying to come onto you. You do not look... able. Perhaps you should wait until you are healed to fight again. You are beginning to look like something a dragon would eat.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;No,&amp;quot; says H'vier to the first question. &amp;quot;They just don't tend to care as much that I happened to impress a particular sort of dragon. Well, some still do. But there are generally fewer.&amp;quot; The rest of what she offers makes H'vier lift his head to look at her. &amp;quot;I won't say no if you're willing to help. Anyway, it's not as if I've gone ''looking'' for fights. They've all come to me.&amp;quot; More or less, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay, she doesn't buy /that/, and Lourna openly stares at him with an upraised brow that suggests exactly that. But, by this time, H'vier is probably back to relaxing his sore, beaten self against the wall of the pool. &amp;quot;As you say, bronzerider,&amp;quot; she intones politely, settling the bag of soapsand on the mostly-dry edge of the pool beside his head. Working with her hands has made Lourna efficient with them, and she uses them to scoop steaming liquid from the pools to pour over his exposed shoulders to wet them. &amp;quot;They are not always the easiest to live with, all dragonriders are proud, but if you must live with them...&amp;quot; She allows her voice to trail away as she stuffs a hand into that bag long enough to draw out a handful to spread across shoulders, and much of his chest, working it to a dense lather. &amp;quot;Shards, when was the last time you washed?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If she's going to help him, H'vier can at least move away from the side of the pool enough to make his back accessible to her, too. Maybe not right away. &amp;quot;They're just the same as anyone else. Just with... a dragon.&amp;quot; He's so good at explaining things. As for when he last washed, the bronzerider has to ''think'' about it, which can't be a good sign. &amp;quot;The other day, I'm pretty sure. Things are a bit of a blur.&amp;quot; Lourna and H'vier are in a pool together, the former helping the latter, who is kind of hideously bruised and battered at the moment, wash himself. There isn't really anyone else in here right now, between people finishing their duties and dinner on the horizon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Soapsand, in no real short supply for the weyr, is reapplied several times until Lourna can be ''sure'' that it's a bruise, and not merely grime coating the rider's skin. Being the bathing pools, their states of undress will come as no surprise, but there's nothing illicit occurring unless scrubbing someone's back with vigor is considered foreplay. With H'vier... If he weren't so battered, bruised, and exhausted, it likely would be. But, for the moment, Lourna is unmolested and her modesty somewhat maintained by the water that she lounges in while rubbing fiercely at H'vier's patchy hide to scour it clean. &amp;quot;Dragons do not pick people like 'anyone' else,&amp;quot; she asserts, ignoring his argument baldly while trying to dampen his hair without allowing the water to run into his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Like a cold dash of water, Ceawlin's arrival comes with the clip-clip of sharp shoes, carrying a presence that's bigger than his actual physical height. Warm red leather tunic is tailored tight to torso, complemented by the tailored black trousers that were obviously meticulously picked. Nightly bath, however, takes precedence to fashion, and so the boy immediately begins to disrobe take no obvious note of Lourna nor H'vier at first. Until some noise or sound draws the frigid attention of cool blue eyes and sharp features. Hands pause, eyebrows raise. With dry, deadpan humor, he asks, &amp;quot;Should I leave?&amp;quot; Enunciation is almost perfected to stifle any detectable accent, except perhaps a touch of Crom on some of the rounder syllables.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The exhausted bronzerider might hear the young man's entrance but he obviously doesn't care enough to ''look'' and see who it is. That and he's a little busy wincing here and there when Lourna presses against a particularly sore bruise. H'vier takes it like a man, though, no complaints or flinching otherwise. It's not until Ceawlin speaks that he glances over at the blond. &amp;quot;Do you feel like you should? You could come give this lovely girl a hand.&amp;quot; In bathing him, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lips part, and Lourna prepares ready to remark upon H'vier's offer towards Ceawlin, but whatever she says never passes muster. The words die in her throat, and instead Lourna awards H'vier with a sharp, brief pinch somewhere more tender than his back. &amp;quot;I am sure that he would much prefer to wash himself before having to scrub at your filth,&amp;quot; Lourna supplies instead, though returning dutifully to fulfilling that scrub herself. It doesn't keep her from glancing towards the sharper featured young man whose late adolescence closely matches her own; it's even possible that Ceawlin might recognize her in passing. &amp;quot;No, you are welcome. It's communal, and we are ''bathing''.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;''Baaaaaaaathing'',&amp;quot; Ceawlin drawls, dry humor lingering in humorless tones, his fingers once more resuming his own act of disrobing. &amp;quot;Is that what it's being called these days.&amp;quot; The beast's bruised and scratched back is given a careless look, but he declines the rider's invitation with, &amp;quot;I think not. I'd much rather attend my own bath. I am no drudge to specialize in back...&amp;quot; Dubiously, gaze sweeps back to include Lourna in his slightly disapproving (don't mind the judgmental here, he's a Harper) glance, &amp;quot;... ''scrubbing''.&amp;quot; Still, despite his words, the dry humor lingers, though not quite reaching the frigid depths of pale eyes. Lourna's face is familiar enough that earns her a second glance, but it's hard to see (well notice) much more of H'vier than his back. Hey! It's eye-catching. &amp;quot;Ceawlin. Harper Senior Apprentice.&amp;quot; His tone? Totally implies the capitalization.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;You've never been fucked before if you think this is anything but bathing, kid,&amp;quot; says H'vier over at the harper. &amp;quot;I'm not that bad,&amp;quot; he rumbles at Lourna. But he's definitely not put off enough to ''stop'' her or anything. If Ceawlin thinks his back looks bad, his face is probably kind of scary. One of his eyes is practically swollen shut and he has some pretty gruesome bruises. &amp;quot;H'vier. Bronzerider.&amp;quot; He'll let Lourna introduce herself if she wants to. He'll just watch the blond, gaze less intense than usual due to the tiredness.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ceawlin's condescension colors Lourna's cheeks, but she doesn't grow timid. Not too timid, by any account, and those full lips purse with displeasure at his contempt. &amp;quot;I am not embarassed, nor is it below me, to help someone in need,&amp;quot; she mutters with conviction, but the effect is likely spoiled by that lovely rosey flush that tinges the lightly tanned skin of her flesh in a blush that colors clear down to her collar. She's too flustered off-handedly to really laugh at H'vier's joke, but her dark green eyes flit towards Ceawlin guardedly as she massages foaming soapsand into H'vier's hair down to the rider's entitled scalp.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Well met,&amp;quot; Ceawlin responds to H'vier, not verbally pointing out the rosy flush and off-kilter behavior of his baths companion. Once clothing is folded (neatly), and set aside, the boy grabs a towel and the random bathing accoutrements which is taken to the nearest pool to Lourna and the rider that's not actually /in/ with them. &amp;quot;And you are?&amp;quot; the harper questions of the flustered girl, &amp;quot;If you're not embarrassed.&amp;quot; Was that dry statement a joke? Maybe. May/be/. &amp;quot;You must be,&amp;quot; gaze flicks to the battered bronzerider, &amp;quot;well acquainted, then.&amp;quot; Why else would anyone be scrubbing this man's back? Right? Right!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;And here I thought you just wanted to get your hands all over me, darling,&amp;quot; H'vier asides to the girl that has those hands currently in his hair. Which feels pretty good considering the rest of him. Not many bruises on his scalp. &amp;quot;I think that's good, though. I ought to try getting something done.&amp;quot; Before anyone finds Bones and wonders what the hell happened to him. Back to Ceawlin, &amp;quot;Not yet. But we will be. You could help with that, too. Learn what's what.&amp;quot; The bronzerider grins over at the harper before he's rinsing himself off and starting to head out of the water.&lt;br /&gt;
If Lourna had the strength, she might have, for a moment, considered beating the man to death with the younger one. Her brief period of murderous rage passes, impotent, and it only serves to redden her cheeks further. &amp;quot;Lourna. My name is Lourna,&amp;quot; Lourna offers in a more assertive tone than the prior muttering, though she has now slid several inches deeper into the water, even if it leads her to be splattered with droplets pouring in rivulets from H'vier's mostly scrubbed hide. And it affords her a peek, and she can't /not/ look, even while she's trying to avoid looking as if she might leer at the other teenager. It's not too late to drown, is it? There's no way to look at naked people without looking at naked people. &amp;quot;I'm a Tannercrafter.&amp;quot; Pause. &amp;quot;Apprentice. I'll see you later, H'vier,&amp;quot; she calls after him, 'trapped' in the pool while he searches for a towel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Will you,&amp;quot; Ceawlin murmurs, that dry humor flaring up in the sharply featured, not quite expressive beyond entitled-harper-brat face. Cold blue gaze catches Lourna at her ''looking'', a smirk turned her way at such an angle that H'vier can't see. &amp;quot;I think I'll pass.&amp;quot; Beat. &amp;quot;On the helping of you two getting acquainted.&amp;quot; When the bronzerider makes his escape from the baths, the boy merely says, &amp;quot;Good evening,&amp;quot; as manners are too well ingrained to /not/ be some form of formal polite. &amp;quot;Tannercraft.&amp;quot; Now that Ceawlin has inched his way into the hot pool, attention is focused on his fellow crafter. &amp;quot;I would never have thought such a craft for you.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Thanks for the hands,&amp;quot; says the bronzerider, meaning the plural, as he gets out of the cool and heads over to deal with his clothes. That will probably take H'vier little longer than usual to work out but he'll be off on his way eventually, looking a little more his usual self. Whatever that is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A grunt is all the recognition that H'vier's remark is given, and Lourna edges back against the warm wall of the pool as the water level readjusts from H'vier's departure. It leaves her mostly covered, and what isn't hidden beneath the steaming water is obscured by the remaining foamy lather from soapsand clinging to her tanned skin. Without H'vier's distraction, and the shift in conversation, the rush of color to her flesh recedes, and the fluster lifts. Politely, she ignores his former quip, and instead focuses on the latter, though Lourna's dark blonde brows furrow in a quizzical expression. &amp;quot;Why would you think ''that''? I'm rather good at it, though I have a few more turns until I'll be considered for journeyman.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;You just don't strike me as a tanner,&amp;quot; Ceawlin answers with a shrug, not meaning any insult by it. &amp;quot;I'm sure you must be good at it if you are only a few short turns from walking the tables. Myself, I have only a few turns left myself until I earn my rank.&amp;quot; The rank he feels he very much has earned already, if posture and tone are any indication. The act of bathing is rather quick and efficient, scrubbing every inch of skin until it fairly gleams. &amp;quot;Are you new to the weyr?&amp;quot; Curiosity might be in his expression, though it's hard to tell with the way he's positioned in the pools.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;And what do I strike you as?&amp;quot; Run, Ceawlin, run far away, for that is a loaded question all too casually asked as Lourna resumes scrubbing at herself. Considering she was quite nearly done when H'vier came in, she is quite well soaked by now and is content in rinsing off the lather from her skin. Growing less perturbed by the minute, the young woman rises from the pools and pays little heed to the fact she is as much in her skin as H'vier was in his. It's communal, and she isn't disturbed by skin, per se. Except when people feel the need to point it out. &amp;quot;New?&amp;quot; This draws a laugh as she hunts for a towel at her own pace, stepping over her leather boots and neatly piled clothing. &amp;quot;I was born here.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Small smile curves thin lips, a shifty little smile this. Ceawlin is not too afraid of loaded questions, namely because they are easily avoided. &amp;quot;You strike me as someone who's occupation was something other than the tannercraft, is what, but now that I know, I can see it.&amp;quot; Her laughter at his question earns a steely, cold glance. &amp;quot;Unless it's writ on your skin, the place of one's birth is not easily seen, /tanner/.&amp;quot; Words are sharply said, the heat from the pools flushing skin, along with the curve of too-delicate ears. He's even leaned forward again, and while his eyes are on Lourna, it's truly just a look. Naked skin is just that, naked skin.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slipping a towel loosely about her rather buxom frame and securing it in place, Lourna goes about methodically collecting her belongings and piling them up in her arms in a few careful scoops. Whatever else she needs to do, it would seem, is not to be done here in front of the harper. But, as she is halfway to the entryway, Ceawlin's tone gives her the excuse to pause abruptly and half turn to peer at him intently while dripping all over the floor. She isn't an intimidating sight, but that doesn't seem her intent. Fingers dig lightly into the abundant leather and linen of her clothes, atop which lie her boots. &amp;quot;You would be surprised. You may not look it, but your actions speak loudly. Only Holdbred would wander in thinking we were doing something illicit and try to excuse themselves.&amp;quot; After his earlier behavior, Lourna doesn't mind twisting the dagger a little to prompt a response. &amp;quot;Are you alright? You look a little flushed.&amp;quot; She remembers ''that'', as well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Or,&amp;quot; Ceawlin's tone opposes hers, &amp;quot;I assumed that a young, virile woman would only want to scrub the back of a virile dragonrider as a prelude to something else.&amp;quot; Eyebrows tick up a notch, &amp;quot;It's not a far-fetched notion, Lourna. Just because you associate that with being Holdbred is not my doing.&amp;quot; At the mention of his flushed skin, the boy laughs. And it's not an all together pretty sound. &amp;quot;Tanner, the water is hot. Of course I am flushed. Do you expect my blood to not rise to the surface.&amp;quot; Dry humor is disposed for a real, raw humor that finally reaches the eyes to warm their blue frost. &amp;quot;Good-night,&amp;quot; he finishes, pulling gaze away from the girl to the water that bubbles around him. Formality in politeness is our Ceawlin. And to this, she's dismissed from his attention, as focus is placed on relaxation and whatever thoughts may ruminate in the harper's mind. Maybe he's composing a love song. You ''never'' know!&lt;br /&gt;
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		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Dirty_Hypocrite&amp;diff=10783</id>
		<title>Logs:Dirty Hypocrite</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Dirty_Hypocrite&amp;diff=10783"/>
				<updated>2013-01-24T11:36:31Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;{{ Log&lt;br /&gt;
| who = Barnabas, Lourna&lt;br /&gt;
| where = Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
| what = Barnabas tries to keep out of trouble in the bathing pools. Trouble finds him, in the shape of Lourna.&lt;br /&gt;
| when = Day 18, Month 11, Turn 30&lt;br /&gt;
| gamedate = 2013.01.23&lt;br /&gt;
| quote = &amp;quot;How much of an ass would I be for keepin' a big man monster off of you, only to take his place when nobody was looking?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
| weather = &lt;br /&gt;
| categories = &lt;br /&gt;
| mentions = H'vier&lt;br /&gt;
| ooc = WARNING: Adult material. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;
| icons = &lt;br /&gt;
| log = Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
----&lt;br /&gt;
Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup.&lt;br /&gt;
The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.&lt;br /&gt;
----&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's one place in the weyr where at first the thick fog from outside seems to have crept in. The bathing caverns have their own lingering mists that eyes scarcely barely penetrate, thanks in no small part to the man hiding away from the more political events of the day. As his laundry soaks itself through in the sinks, around the bend the male is neck-deep in soothing hot waters, wearing nothing more than a stupid smile and the sets of leather cuffs at his wrists that no one has ever seen him without. He's entirely alone, and not by accident.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Alone, for a time. Gold flights are always an 'exciting time', and Lourna herself is not exempt from the waves of lust that fall over the weyr. That doesn't mean she simply gives in, in spite of the physiological changes brought on by the dramatic flight above. A few shouts are no doubt heard before her arrival, echoes off of the stone of the weyr. Even her appearance is easy to miss through that sea of fog, though the slap of her leather boots on the stone is not so easy to miss. One would assume she would be familiar with the placement of pools here, and one would be right, but the flush-faced youth is presently looking over her shoulder, and by the time she directs her attention forward, it's too late. One boot hits water instead of hard ground, and she goes tumbling, fully clothed, into Bones' pool, disappearing temporarily beneath the water with a strangled, cut-off cry of surprise.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bones isn't so quick to react to the subtle sounds of her entering, only one eye propping open at the initial clicks and clacks. He opens his mouth to warn the figure about the edge of the pools, but by then it's too late. &amp;quot;Watch out for th-&amp;quot; splash. Well that was going to embarrassing for whoever just inadvertently joined him. &amp;quot;Here, lemme help ya.&amp;quot; The visitor is still submerged as he speaks the words, and yet he wades further into the middle of the pool to reach down and try and get a handle on whoever might be concerned about their impending lungs full of water. &amp;quot;Haha, you must feel like such a stupid-&amp;quot; Again his words are interrupted by his hands gripping at something much softer than an arm. Shit. That's a lady. Hand quickly fumbles to find a forearm or hand and guide the stranger to the surface. Now it was Bones' turn to be a touch embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What would be more embarrassing than accidentally copping a feel would be drowning in a bathing pool. It's clear by the way that Lourna initially flails that she wasn't expecting to go falling face first into heated water. Fortunately, she doesn't strike anything tender, and eventually Bones' grip on her arm once he orients himself to the figure in the pool is enough to bring the young woman to the surface. As soon as her head breaks the surface of the pool, Lourna is gasping for air in sharp, ragged, stuttering breaths. Once she makes sense of where she is, she blinks up at Bones' countenance with widening dark green eyes with her lightly tanned cheeks already flushed and deepening to red by the moment. And of course, that considerable bosom of hers is heaving with each desperately drawn breath. When her voice finally comes, it's roughened huskily around edges already naturally lower pitched. &amp;quot;You!&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As soon as her eyes meet his, he's quick to release her arm for the very mild fear that his grip might be seen as anything but supportive. She recognizes him before the same could be said in return, her hair flattened by soaked water giving her a briefly different profile. &amp;quot;... Me!&amp;quot; He's smiling, though it's not his usual full playful grin. Something a bit warmer and softer. &amp;quot;Bones, if you forgot.&amp;quot; Thankfully not standing in full nude glory, his knees are bent enough to keep all but his shoulders and head submerged, hints of chest and arm ink breaking the surface. &amp;quot;Lourna, right? Tanner girl.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She doesn't catch her breath for a good minute or two, suggesting that she didn't immediately start running within the bathing chamber itself; she's been at it a while. As surprise, shock, and breathlessness lessen, she finds her footing and draws herself to her full height. Which, compared to men like Bones', isn't impressive at a mere five-foot four. It doesn't help that she's perfectly drenched to the bone; the leather she's strapped into isn't solid and there are plenty of gaps for colored fabric to show through. Lourna sucks in another deep breath, and eyes Bones' glassily with half-lidded eyes. The color of her cheeks doesn't recede, and she stands there awkwardly, stiff and soaking. &amp;quot;Uhhh--yes,&amp;quot; she mutters, her voice practically a rumble in her throat. She's torn between glancing at the water, which seems an irrationally bad idea, or looking at him. Instead, she directs her attention towards a mist-shrouded ceiling whilst trying to dispel his image from her mind, and the promise of nudity. &amp;quot;I remembered.&amp;quot; Another muttered rumble. And there Lourna still stands, unmoving, in the pool and still quite fully clothed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's only as she stands and catches her breath that the convict looks at her. That is, truly ''looks'' at her. Her clothes already skin-tight, the drenching water only greater serves to help accentuate all of her curves. It's in that moment where she looks to the ceiling that he succumbs to just some of the inescapable urges that permeate through all of High Reaches. It can't hurt to just look, right? &amp;quot;You should take off your clothes.&amp;quot; His voice is low yet fierce, almost a wolfish growl more than man's voice. Almost immediately after the words are uttered however, he moves swift to wipe clean the subconsciously uttered suggestion. &amp;quot;I mean, no! No you should NOT do that.&amp;quot; Smooth recovery. Still, he's able to laugh as he puts his palm to his forehead and closes his eyes. &amp;quot;Sorry baby girl, I just... I've been feelin' weird all day. Ain't myself, y'know?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Before the youth realizes what she's doing, half the buckles on that vest are done, and it's impressive how quickly she can manage that. Then again, practice makes perfect. Then her fingers are frozen on the strap halfway down, stuck there as if by will alone, stalled suddenly between incapable of stopping and incapable of continuing. His 'recovery' is met with a strangled, roughened laugh that sounds painfully forced, and yet sudden. Lourna cringes visibly at the sound of her own voice echoing through the chamber, and at the rising tension. She swallows, convulsively, suddenly dry mouthed, but not for the first time today. Tongue feeling as if sandpaper against her lips, she tries in vain to wet them nervously. And those dark green eyes of her stay focused on the point right above his head upon the ceiling; she can't see it, but damned if she isn't trying to pierce that shroud of mist washing over the rock. &amp;quot;It's--well, it's...&amp;quot; Her voice trails away, temporarily dying in her throat. Lourna clears her throat, but it does little to dispel the husky edge plaguing her. &amp;quot;It's the gold flight. It's not wrong or anything, it's just um... you know. How it is,&amp;quot; she says, a little lamely.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bones' eyes widen as she did exactly as his darker side suggested, something stirring low in his stomach at the sight. He can't help but imagine how much more fun he'd be having if he didn't have a conscience. &amp;quot;How much of an ass would I be for keepin' a big man monster off of you, only to take his place when nobody was looking?&amp;quot; The question doesn't sound like as much of a joke as he intends, and he has to clear his throat. &amp;quot;What's... what's that about the gold flight now?&amp;quot; He's a non-rider. He didn't get the memo.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;I don't need your help fending for myself. If I want to be bedded, I will be bedded. And if I don't, I won't,&amp;quot; Lourna suddenly snarls, dropping her intense green eyes to peer at him, teeth bared. It is completely out of character for her behavior before, and her breath quickens. Around the time where she ceases speaking, she seems to realize what she says, and that 'fearsome' snarl of hers breaks completely, and Lourna grimaces visibly. &amp;quot;I'm--sorry,&amp;quot; she mutters, looking at the water. At her feet. Her hands remain poised at her vest, and she takes another pointless swallow while searching helplessly for words that struggle to come to her. &amp;quot;A gold flight is the most important thing that happens here at the weyr. It's an exciting time, and it uh... uh...&amp;quot; Wetting her lips, the youth plows on, fingers teasing at the leather while she gnaws upon her full lower lip. &amp;quot;It's a mating flight.&amp;quot; That explains everything, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With eyes opening wide at her sudden act of aggression, he's entirely stunned by her sudden affirmation of independence. At first. Something deeper in him snaps at the words, and he bares his own teeth in response. &amp;quot;Why you ungrateful little welp!&amp;quot; It's just as he's starting to rise up out of the water and move towards her that he sees her face soften, and her soft apology slips free. Thankfully, he slinks back down under the water, the surface having just nearly passed his belly. That was close. &amp;quot;Nnnf. What the hell is wrong with me!&amp;quot; His words are growled in frustration, drifting back towards the edge of the pool. Away from her. &amp;quot;What are you talking about? What's... why's it matter what kinda flight it is?&amp;quot; The pieces are slowly coming together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That gets her hackles up, and her hands drop from her half-buckled vest, fingers curling into fists. &amp;quot;What isn't,&amp;quot; she growls in reply, her dark green eyes brightening with a turmoil of emotion both physical and mental in nature as they rove down the expanse of chest to pass along his abdomen before he's wisely sinking back into the water. The tip of her tongue rolls lightly along the edge of her teeth, and then she bites down; hard. This is quickly followed by a convulsive swallow, and Lourna forces her fingers to uncurl. &amp;quot;Because, we feel it. We all feel it, and we all answer it. You must not be weyrbred.&amp;quot; The youth gives a contemptuous little snort and peers down at Bones' with those half-lidded eyes narrowing, weighing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Doesn't watch her eyes trail along his body, but can feel the gaze none the less. All the push ups and crunches weren't going to waste after all. He takes the attention as an excuse to do the same to her, eyes narrowing, trying to will the leathers to fall away with his mind. &amp;quot;Y'can take the leather off at least. Must weigh a ton.&amp;quot; Either he doesn't hear the details of the flight and of how it's effecting the two of them, or he just doesn't care in that moment. &amp;quot;Let me help.&amp;quot; He swims slowly towards her, surface of the water moved just enough to obscure details of his form under the waves. It's only when he's directly in front of her that he actually has the nerve to stand at his full height, perhaps only an inch of space between their bodies. His hands go to hers, guiding her to the other buckles she has left.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And suddenly, the ceiling is absolutely fascinating, or at least a distraction from glancing downward. She doesn't want to know, and simultaneously desires more than nothing else to do exactly. &amp;quot;Some,&amp;quot; Lourna admits, her voice a rough whisper that escapes parched lips. She keeps her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the misted rock surface above while her fingers work mechanically, suddenly clumsy, at the remaining buckles. Truthfully, it's something of a relief; the vest itself is solid leather, double-stitched for support, and confining. When it loosens, she sucks in a deeper breath. Linen, naturally, is worn beneath, but it's soaked completely through and just shy of translucency, clinging to every single inch of her skin it covers. &amp;quot;It's comfortable,&amp;quot; she mutters to fill the unbearable silence that falls over both save for the breath that catches in her throat and sounds too loud in her ears, a throbbing beat in her temples. &amp;quot;I'll get my b--&amp;quot; Without thinking, she immediately leans over into--nope. With a small, strangled sound, she tilts backward and loses her balance, disappearing again beneath the water. She doesn't seem eager to come up quickly, and the only thing that appears is one boot in one hand reaching from the water to offer it to him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just as Lourna is having difficulty looking down, so too does Bones, getting glimpses of the skin-tight linen out of his lower peripheral, but leaving it to imagination as to precisely how much he's seeing. He thinks it's a lot. But even with bust lingering below, her eyes are nearly just as enticing to stare into in his sensitive state, and that's where his focus sticks. It's just as he's reaching to bring rough fingertips to the side of her blushing face that she falls, his lustful expression giving way to concern and mild panic once more. He laughs and brings one hand to his forehead again, other reaching down to take her boot. &amp;quot;What're you doing old man...&amp;quot; he mutters with a combination of amusement and disgust.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;I tripped,&amp;quot; she lies through her teeth as she is dragged, spitting water, from the bathing pool. &amp;quot;I'm sorry. It's really not a big deal, nobody cares, it's just something that happens, and I just--&amp;quot; Realizing she's babbling, Lourna reaches down and tugs off her other boot, pretending that he is not standing right there in all of his denuded glory. The boot is filled with water, so she tips it and flings it off to the side where it strikes the rock wall with an audibly wet plop. &amp;quot;Have you ever tried to remove wet leather pants?&amp;quot; As if to add brevity to the situation, Lourna offers him a weak grin, and tries to do precisely that. Fingers search for the buckle at her waist, pressing against the firm flesh of her abdomen. It's almost a show in and of itself watching her wiggle and wriggle out of her pants, giving sharp tugs the peel the leather down over the smooth skin of her hips, thighs, and calves. It's an effort, it truly is, and the linen undershirt hits just below the curve of her rump. It's almost enough that she forgets he's standing *right there* until she finishes, holding the leather leggings in one hand. &amp;quot;So--uh... you really didn't know that?&amp;quot; Dark green eyes blink at him through strands of dark blonde hair plastered by water against the tanned skin of her brow and cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still with palm to forehead as she emerges from the water, he opens his eyes to lock onto her wide hips, squirming free of their leather casings with an almost dance-like quality. Well, at least that's how his fevered mind was interpreting the motions. His chest noticeably starts to rise and fall more fully as he takes in the sight, a sign of his quickening breath. But as he shuts his eyes tightly, the memory of her awkward fall and spitting water can't help but remind him of an uncomfortable fact. She was an awkward little teen, and definitely not of her right mind. He groans, partially lustful but more defeated than anything else. Without opening his eyes, he reaches an arm strongly around her waist and tugs her in sharp to his front. &amp;quot;Lourna...&amp;quot; he starts, already rough voice now deep and husky. &amp;quot;I don't think we should be... nnf, hold on.&amp;quot; No, he's not just going to completely turn away this chance. He ducks down to lock his lips to hers in a tight, needy kiss. One of frustration and hunger, but ultimately only serving to stoke the flames with how brief it is. &amp;quot;Sorry.&amp;quot; Eyes are still closed. He's too ashamed to see the look on her face. &amp;quot;It's the... flight. The mating flight, right? So... let's... let's not.&amp;quot; He releases her, and rubs his eyes with one hand while rubbing the back of his neck with the other. Relax big guy. &amp;quot;If you still feel half the way you do about me now after all this blows over, y'can come find me again. I'll take real good care of you then. But not now. Just ain't right, y'know?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She resists very little when she is seized and pressed against the still damp chest of the man a literal foot taller than she. At least it means she doesn't have to immediately look him in the eye as color floods into the swell of her cheeks. Dark green eyes peer intently at Bones' chest, breath stilling temporarily in her throat as the young woman stiffens against him. But if he's going to grasp her, she might as well... Without giving it too much conscious thought, Lourn lifts her arms and slides them readily along Bones' hips in embrace. Her nails are mercifully shortened for her line of work, but they no doubt still press sharply against the sensitive skin lining his spine when her fingers dig reflexively. &amp;quot;We should be-&amp;quot; And then the older man's mouth is pressed squarely upon her own as Lourna lifts her chin to address him. The young woman is inexperienced even in this, it would seem, but what she lacks in grace about it she more than makes up for in heat. Lourna melts against his chest, her weight pressed heavily against him through the strain of thin linen, and the young woman's lips part to free an eager tongue. And then it's done, and she's left both breathless and fleetingly confused as her thoughts swim. When Bones' lets go, Lourna goes staggering back at the suddenness of his release, blinking up at him owlishly. &amp;quot;What?&amp;quot; She's too shocked for his rejection to sink in immediately. &amp;quot;But, I... you don't... it's not...&amp;quot; Articulate, this one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All Lourna would need to do is glance down to see his rejection is most certainly not based on anything physical. Yet now he's insistent on finally hiding it. He had left a towel poolside, and with all his laundry soaking in the sinks it was his last refuge. Unless he tried to put on her pants. &amp;quot;It ain't cuz you ain't beautiful. Because...&amp;quot; He dips down into the waters again, swimming a lazy breast stroke towards the rim and then rising up out of the still waves he'd created in motion. He's amazingly graceful in water. A stark contrast to everything he is on land. &amp;quot;Y'got a body built for bedrooms. Y'make knees weak. Y'make hearts flutter. Y'make... well, you get it. Yer hot.&amp;quot; He steps up from the water now, bare feet giving wet smacks to the stone. She'd get a brief glimpse of bare convict bum, and the... heart tattoo on it? Small and off to the side, close to his hip, but certainly there. Yup, heart tattoo. It's wrapped up swiftly by the towel he wraps arond his waist. &amp;quot;Y'need a better man. Softer man. A... smaller man.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She's left standing there, awkwardly, in the pool. Alone, staring at the water, her cheeks still heated, her breath still quickened by desire. Say whatever Bones' would like to, the waves of the lust rolling off of the residual flight beat Lourna unmercifully. It isn't in her nature to be hateful, but she does grow... tense. Swallowing a number of times before finding her voice, the youth's fingers clench at her side, nails biting fine crescents into the tender skin of her palms. And then, she laughs, a pained laugh at that. &amp;quot;Really?&amp;quot; She sounds skeptical, baring her teeth, wrinkling her nose. &amp;quot;Yes, I have always enjoyed being pawed at by fifteen year old boys who work alongside me.&amp;quot; It sets her teeth to grinding. &amp;quot;I had half hoped that H'vier's dragon would fail just so he might come find me.&amp;quot; A sobering thought. Lourna's fingers uncurl, and she lifts her hands to obscure her face. Her social ineptitude is showing, again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now standing at the edge of the waters, Bones can't help but turn to look at her with a raised eyebrow at her laugh, picking up the notes of frustration and hurt. That was not the reaction he was expecting at all. &amp;quot;Hey.. it ain't...&amp;quot; He isn't sure what to say to reassure her, but turning comes with the side effect of seeing her body again, and he's forced to give a small grunt and turn away once more. Stupid dragon orgy thing. &amp;quot;I'm tryin' to do the right thing here!&amp;quot; There's a tone of anger now, brow furrowing as he goes ahead and commits to the full turn towards her. &amp;quot;I'm this close to tearin' into you like a steak!&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Shards! What right thing?&amp;quot; She honestly doesn't get it. In spite of her awkwardness, Lourna is weyrbred, and their sexuality is radically altered from that experienced in the Holds. Even she knows /that/. &amp;quot;I don't know what you're talking about, and frankly, it sounds stupid,&amp;quot; Lourna growls softly, wading easily through the water and trailing linen shirt behind her. She reaches the edge as Bones' is turning around to make his final quip, and then without a shred of fear with her dark green eyes intense with ravenous desire, the youth reaches upward. Her fingers, she hopes, grasp the edge of that towel and give a quick, powerful yank to expose him. Even as she does it, Lourna's other hand reaches for a vulnerable ankle with the intent of forcing Bones' back into the pool with a tumble not unlike her own. It's trickier, of course, but if he doesn't want to fall onto his rear end on hard stone, the water is his safest bet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Hey, what're you-&amp;quot; Bones reflexes are fast, reaching down to try and snatch back the towel she tugs from him almost as soon as she begins pulling at it. Perhaps it's his reflexes that are his downfall, his height forcing him to bend so low to contest that the grip at his ankle is doubly effective on the slick stone. He flips end over end, creating a terrible clapping splash as his bare back crashes into the water, sinking underneath the surface for a few short seconds. Under the surface she'd see his form right itself, and in a flash he's standing in front of her again, water dripping off his tensed and de-toweled form. With brow angrily pinched and teeth bared, he growls each and every word. &amp;quot;You! You.. spoiled little... dirty...&amp;quot; He fails at words, and so instead closes the distance. Her linen shirt is the target of his anger, the cloth effortlessly ripped from her body and tossed into the water behind the pair of them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brows lift, and a gasp is issued at that grab, and the linen, soaked through, tears readily under the pressure applied. As if he needed further evidence of her natural gifts. She certain doesn't pad her vest, nor even her shirt, and the water beads upon her skin in enticing crystalline droplets that only aid in drawing further attention to the surprisingly pert, considerable swell of her chest. That grin is ingratiating, and her dark green eyes glitter with both amusement and poorly concealed desire. &amp;quot;I hope you intend to replace that, as leather chafes something fierce,&amp;quot; she remarks, her voice roughened and giddy once more. Her bronzed flesh shows light toning from heavy work, and the tension of muscles ready to spring is apparent as she poses 'casually' with her hands falling to reside upon the curve of her hips. &amp;quot;Are you really from a Hold?&amp;quot; Lourna practically crows with delight. She doesn't appear to know whether to laugh at his prudish ways, or his state.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He closes what little distance there is between them in a sudden rush of forward movement, not stopping until her rump is pinned against the edge of the pool. With no retreat left for her, he moves himself in so tight against her front that it flattens out her hefty bustline &amp;quot;Let it chafe.&amp;quot; His voice is raw now. Feral. &amp;quot;It'll remind you of me.&amp;quot; Rough hands go to her hips and grip possessively, and his lips peel back in a sinister grin. &amp;quot;Forget where I was born.&amp;quot; He lunges in suddenly, his lips attached in rough kiss to her throat, hot breath making the steaming bath water seem frigid by comparison. &amp;quot;I'm part of High Reaches now.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Her balance is such that when she isn't overwhelmed with embarrassment, Lourna keeps her feet just fine, forcibly backpedaled by Bones' ominous approach. She is torn between balking, and exuberance, and the war of that inner turmoil is expressed readily across her features. With a clumsy sweep of her hand, she brushes dark blonde hair from her face, slowly beginning to dry. Lourna grunts softly as her rear meets the edge of the pool's wall. Pinned between it and the enticing press of Bones' against her, the young woman succumbs, tilting her head just so to allow him better access to the stretch of soft, unblemished skin between her shoulder and jaw. A soft, breathy groan escapes the young apprentice, and she squirms beneath him to settle herself on the edge of the pool so as to draw him eagerly between her knees. The difference in height is significant, and Lourna lifts lean arms to draw Bones' down to her, a hand tangling in the long hair at the base of his skull and the other spread across his shoulders. While he is focused upon her throat, her teeth find Bones' ear indelicately.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The wild spirit of High Reaches' finally makes it's way to the quiet bathing pools, the convict guiding his lips up her slender neck untill they can lock with her lips again. This time the kiss would not be broken in such a few short seconds. Instead, it would maintain that frenzied pace with only short pauses taken for breaths in between. He'd make good on his word. He'd take real good care of her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10678</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10678"/>
				<updated>2013-01-22T08:56:06Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: /* Relationships */&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
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== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter and brush-offs.                                                           &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
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== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Quinlys]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[H'vier]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Barnabas]]&lt;br /&gt;
* [[Val]]&lt;br /&gt;
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== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
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{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
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[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10677</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10677"/>
				<updated>2013-01-22T08:53:54Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter and brush-offs.                                                           &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
* An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
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== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
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== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
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[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:FIGHT!_FIGHT!_FIG-_Wait,_YES!&amp;diff=10676</id>
		<title>Logs:FIGHT! FIGHT! FIG- Wait, YES!</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:FIGHT!_FIGHT!_FIG-_Wait,_YES!&amp;diff=10676"/>
				<updated>2013-01-22T08:51:37Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{ Log&lt;br /&gt;
| who = Barnabas, H'vier, Lourna, Val&lt;br /&gt;
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
| what = H'vier tries his luck with Lourna. Val and Bones make it difficult. &lt;br /&gt;
| when = Day 13, Month 11, Turn 30&lt;br /&gt;
| gamedate = 2013.01.22&lt;br /&gt;
| quote = &amp;quot;Oh, she'll be very naughty by the time I'm done with her.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
| weather = &lt;br /&gt;
| categories = General&lt;br /&gt;
| mentions = &lt;br /&gt;
| ooc = &lt;br /&gt;
| icons = val.jpg, h'vier rar.jpg, barnabas Grumpybones.jpg, Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
| log = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
----&lt;br /&gt;
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.&lt;br /&gt;
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.&lt;br /&gt;
----&lt;br /&gt;
In that perfect hour of night when seats start filling and volume steadily rises, Bones enters the snowasis stinking of warm wet gardening soil. Regular enough figure by now to no longer earn quite as much open gawking from the patrons, the kicking of his boots against the stoney ground below sees clumps of his workday earth shed from the soles, and still some turn to look and laugh under their breath. The gardener pays the rubberneckers no mind, shoulders slumped and hair hanging in his face, meandering his way up to the bar and crashing heavily onto a stool. Klah was his regular poison, and after getting the bartender's attention, two steaming cups are slid in front of him. Long day at the office.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Miracle of miracles, H'vier is making his way into the Snowasis as well. Any looks he gets are likely of a different sort, though. Few people laugh at a guy like H'vier when he's got that glowering look on his scruffy face. They just try to stay out of his way. The bronzerider's path leads him directly to the bar, not too far down from Barnabas even if he doesn't seem to have noticed the other man just yet. It's whiskey that he asks for, though, with the understanding that he may need another shortly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Why is Lourna here? Who cares? She simply is, seated not at the bar, but at one of the nearby tables nursing a bowl of--something. Food, one might imagine, and a cup of something also equally unidentifiable without closer inspection. By the way that she sips lightly at it, it can be safely inferred that it isn't water. She picks at the food with the sort of bored determination of someone here for the sake of getting away from something rather than the insistence of being here for a good meal. Lourna's dark, olive green eyes make note of the two men with half-concealed interest, but she keeps her glances to a minimum to avoid immediate attention from either rider or gardener.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bones' first cup is less drunk and more inhaled, the beverage might as well having been served to him in a shotglass for how long it lasts. It seems to serve it's purpose, the cretinous creature giving a shudder at his shoulders as klah begions to course through him. &amp;quot;Ahhhhhh!&amp;quot; Refreshed enough now to bring a palm to his forehead and sweep black dreads out of his face, white smile no longer hidden underneath. His next mug is taken more gingerly, small sips only needed every once in a while to keep him vertical.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
While H'vier works on his first glass, he turns to take in the rest of the Snowasis' patrons, expression still sour but softening somewhat as the fire of the whiskey starts to soothe away at least some of his agitation. Inevitably his dark gaze lands on the attractive young Lourna and it lingers there while he finishes. Once he has a fresh drink in hand, the bronzerider is pushing himself away from the bar and heading in her direction. &amp;quot;You look like you could use some company,&amp;quot; he says in place of a proper greeting as he pulls out the chair opposite her and starts to settle himself into it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It takes the presently absorbed in her own thoughts youth to realize that the comment is directed at her, but it sinks in quickly enough when H'vier is suddenly tugging the chair out to seat himself across from her. Lourna neither blushes, stutters, or quibbles over his approach. Instead, a faint smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, more bemused than anything else. &amp;quot;I would not say no. I'd rather someone who was able to properly tool leather. I don't suppose you have any artistic talent, and also good with your hands?&amp;quot; She sounds rather doubtful, but in a humorous manner rather than demeaning. Uttering a sigh, she lifts the cup to her lips, takes a deeper drink from its contents.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Swiveling in his seat, the gardener looks out into the dimly lit snowasis for the first time since he entered. Now with a clearer head, he's able to enjoy his time people watching. At first his eyes shoot to the door, where another group of weyrfolk pour in to likely enjoy themselves over drunken comradery. Then, his focus moves to the darkened corners where those more inclined to ''want'' to stay hidden congregate. Nothing of much interest there. His third glance is the one that finds him solid gold people watching potential. The new bronzerider H'vier is taking a seat across from a girl he hasn't met before. Blonde, buxum, alone? &amp;quot;Yeah, there's no way H'vier can pass up that one.&amp;quot; He chuckles quietly to himself, perhaps a little harshly judging H'vier's character.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Good,&amp;quot; says H'vier since he's sitting anyway. It leaves one to wonder what he'd have done if she'd said no. &amp;quot;I'm amazing with my hands, darling. Not sure about ''artistic'' but I manage straps well enough. H'vier. Bronze Reisoth's.&amp;quot; Of course he's going to point out that he's a bronzerider. That's just the sort of guy he is. A bronzerider. He sets his glass down on the table after another drink, grins at her, and says, &amp;quot;Seems kind of specific, though. I could just buy you a drink and I can show you what my hands can do later.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It would seem that, for the moment, Lourna is quite content to pretend to be a rather /dumb/ buxom blonde. That smile maintains her quizzical expression, rather charming in her supposed ignorance. But she's no master at concealing emotion, and her dark green eyes glitter with laughter. &amp;quot;Are you sure?&amp;quot; She inquires skeptically, glancing down at the offending appendages through dark lashes. &amp;quot;It's not straps that I need help with. I mastered those long ago.&amp;quot; Setting down her eating utensil, she waves a hand passively. &amp;quot;It's the little things, the details. How are you at paying attention to details? It takes delicacy, you understand, and patience... Do you have any tools for it?&amp;quot; Settling her chin in the open, empty palm of one of her hands, Lourna does make a cursory, appreciative study of the considerably older man, but maintains a straight face in spite of the enormous opening left him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Out of earshot yet determined to be as close as possible, Bones picks up his mug and moves himself through the growing crowds with care, keeping as low a profile as possible for a man of his dimensions. He doesn't know the girl, so her eyeline is of less concern than H'viers, and so he circles around behind the bronzerider whom he's certain has a rather narrowed focus as it is. Now to try and find a seat. At a good distance of course, he doesn't want to be obvious.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Narrow focus, indeed. H'vier's attention is quite fixed on his find. He's grinning indulgently as he listens to the young woman and whatever tension he'd come in with is no where to be seen in his expression now. &amp;quot;''Mastered,'' have you? I'd love to see how good you are with your hands. Later.&amp;quot; Dark eyes glance at those hands that he's probably thinking about in ways he shouldn't be quite yet. &amp;quot;I have tools that you'd love to get your hands on.&amp;quot; Still smiling, H'vier picks up his drink again and asks, &amp;quot;What will you have?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She doesn't balk when the man just rolls with it; his sheer level of tolerance and bravado is impressive. &amp;quot;Well, I've mastered it in a manner of speaking. Straps only take precision, patience, and repetition.&amp;quot; Lourna pauses, lifting her hands to glance at them. They're what you might expect of a woman of her age, neither overly large for her gender or too daintily petite, with light, consistent calluses. Green eyes flit up from her hands, fixating upon his face and shoulders with a weighing, thoughtful expression. &amp;quot;Why, H'vier,&amp;quot; Lourna utters, smile broadening into a toothy grin. &amp;quot;I thought men only came with one. Or did that turnday girl share her toys with you?&amp;quot; Okay, so maybe the cat's out of the bag that she knows what's what. What leaves her lips surprises even her, though, and a light flush rises to her tanned cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nearly choking at his drink at the sudden turn in Lourna's behavior, he manages to only slightly sputter from his seat. He regrets now his choice of putting his back to the pair of them, not able to see the face of the mysterious taunting blonde, nor H'viers reaction at being so openly toyed with. Then again, that might have made him laugh aloud and blow his cover. Still a risk.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Oh, darling. If you think men only have one tool, you've been with the wrong men. Or maybe you've never been with one at all. Is that it?&amp;quot; That prospect only seems to encourage his behavior, H'vier's gaze shifting a little toward heated in its intensity as he studies Lourna. Fortunately he's still oblivious to Barnabas. But he's moving to get up, to go get that drink. &amp;quot;You strike me as a cider kind of girl, yeah?&amp;quot; Well, he doesn't really wait for an answer so hopefully she doesn't hate cider.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Drawing a soft breath, the youth /wills/ her face to keep from reddening further with embarassment. To keep from rubbing at her cheeks, feigning ignorance about the pink tinge to her flesh. When her hand lifts halfway to her face, she changes course and instead lightly rubs at the exposed skin upon the back of her neck. &amp;quot;And if I haven't? I still know how things uh--work.&amp;quot; Lourna sounds slightly defiant, wetting her lips. &amp;quot;That's not that unusual.&amp;quot; It might be a little unusual, but she glances down into the mostly full bowl that was her meal, untouched. &amp;quot;Cider is fine.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So maybe the Snowasis isn't as full as all ''that'', yet, free spaces left here and there... but does Val need an excuse, really, to steal the spot that the big bronzerider just vacated? If he could fit, surely there's more than enough room for such a slender woman to slip into place, eyes bright and drink in hand. She smiles at the apprentice Tanner, folding her arms so the 'feathers' show down the back of her wrists: ''check out her '''leather'''.''&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Raises an eyebrow to himself as he hears seats shifting over his shoulder, no longer just the H'vier and mystery blonde show to eavesdrop. Now he has to sit up a bit straighter in his seat and actually turn his head 'round, trying to get a glimpse of who had invaded H'viers spot. Well, he saw the back of her head at least. A woman? This might get interesting. Now if only he had another mug of Klah to keep him company for the show.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;If you haven't, well.&amp;quot; Take a guess, any guess, about what H'vier is thinking. But then he's off to the bar to get the cider and maybe a topping off on his own whiskey. It's not going to take him long before he's returning and the bronzerider looks just a little bit confused about the seat he'd left having been filled already. That was the seat he left, right? There's Lourna, so it has to be. &amp;quot;Excuse me. That seat's taken,&amp;quot; he says as he re-approaches, directly to Val.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For the moment, Bones is off the hook, as Lourna is still rather distracted and the man hasn't made any sudden moves recently, or made enough noise to draw her attention away from the unfortunately handsome bronzerider who is practically swaggering away to get her something to drink. Cider. To his offer, Lourna offers no immediate response save to watch him from behind as he retreats to the bar. And then her view is obscured by a woman barely taller than she herself. Dark olive green eyes blink quickly, and then widen slightly at the elaborate decor of her jacket. Somehow, it's taunt enough to make H'vier's return a relief. It's a distraction from the envious master work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The widening of those green eyes widens Val's smile and she's ''just'' about to speak, when the tall guy gets back. There's a moment where she might ignore him, does ignore him, but then she must change her mind because she does glance upward then, through her fall of dark hair. &amp;quot;Hm?&amp;quot; To H'vier, unhurried. To Lourna, leaning across the table slightly and dropping her voice to match, &amp;quot;Oh, I'm ''sorry''. Is this your... date?&amp;quot; She sips her drink while she's at it: something with gin, tonight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally unable to hold everything back, Bones lets out a hearty single beat of laughter at what unfolds just behind him. &amp;quot;HA!&amp;quot; Now he's likely no longer as invisible as before, and with the outburst he turns around in his chair, legs splaying around the back of it. &amp;quot;Sorry, don't mind me. I'm not here. Continue.&amp;quot; He's grinning in anticipation of what next would unfold.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The position that H'vier takes near Lourna could make an uninformed onlooker think they're together, certainly. He sets the cider down on the table as he eyes the intruder, keeping his own glass in hand. &amp;quot;Aye,&amp;quot; he answers ''for'' the girl, belatedly glancing over in Bones' direction at that laugh. &amp;quot;And I think it's time we went somewhere else, don't you?&amp;quot; he sort of asks but mostly just says, free hand moving to the girl's arm as though to draw her out of her seat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Us? Well, I--there goes a major life decision,&amp;quot; Lourna is absently remarking as H'vier draws her out of her seat while answering; shd doesn't even fight it just due to the completely unexpected behavior that the brazen, bullish bronzerider is exhibiting. Lourna is torn between being alarmed, and impressed at the much older, much taller man's antics. And there is the /free/ cider to consider; she's just an apprentice, and a weyrbrat, and that stuff doesn't come cheap or free. With the free arm not presently clutched beneath H'vier's hand, Lourna scrabbles fingers for the drink.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's the bark of a laugh that startles Val out of her composure, and if she had genuine feathers instead of sleek leather they'd puff outward, ruffled. Still, once she glances back at Barnabas, it's replaced by an element of 'it's only Bones.' Her mouth purses, not quite a smile, and she turns back to the apprentice and then up to the bronzerider instead. &amp;quot;Oh? It ''seems'' like you're wanting to play daddy with his naughty, ''naughty'' little girl.&amp;quot;&amp;quot; To Lourna, sweetly, &amp;quot;If he's that much in a hurry, he won't be any good for you. Though if you ask very nicely, maybe he'll let ''you'' spank ''him'' sometime.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's at all of Val's wicked talk of spanking little girls that Bones' face can't help but sour a little. With furrowing brow and slightly open mouth, his eyes dart between H'vier and Lourna. Was he serious? &amp;quot;Are you serious?&amp;quot; He stands up now, chair lightly kicked back under the table that moments before he was sitting at. &amp;quot;Y'can't... I mean dude, she probably don't even know all her times tables yet!&amp;quot; Eyes are firmly on H'viers as he makes that exclamation, but he briefly glances to Lourna, face softening momentarily. &amp;quot;Sorry, you prolly do, s'just a joke.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Since nothing that Lourna says is really ''no,'' H'vier doesn't pay much attention to anything beyond keeping a hand on her arm as far as she's concerned for the moment. His face is slowly turning back to the glowering he'd entered with not so very long ago, eyeing Val in a completely different way than he'd been eyeing Lourna. His expression breaks into a not-very-friendly grin when he says, &amp;quot;Oh, she'll be very naughty by the time I'm done with her.&amp;quot; With Bones butting into the conversation, H'vier turns that same grin on the gardener but ends up turning his attention back to the girl. &amp;quot;Drink. I have something I want to show you.&amp;quot; He might mean that more innocently than it comes out but considering how much hasn't been innocent, it probably doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She isn't so much offended as surprised by Bones' well meaning assertions. &amp;quot;I know my times table. It helps to measure lengths of--nevermind,&amp;quot; Lourna mutters. Riders aren't likely to have an abundant interest in leatherworking, and Bones' distinct odor de dirt suggests more exterior work than otherwise. That cider is looking mighty tasty, and Lourna helps herself to the 'free' drink. Free if you don't count the cost of dignity. She's in the midst of taking a nice deep draught from the cup when H'vier mentions naughty in the same sentence in which he mentions her. Lourna promptly chokes on the drink half way through, and though she doesn't spit it out, nor does it come streaming from her nose, her brief expression suggests discomfort as she coughs and chokes down the swallow. &amp;quot;Do you?&amp;quot; Her voice is a little roughened by the coughing. &amp;quot;I cannot imagine what that might be.&amp;quot; Yes, she can. Well, sort of. Lourna can certainly assume, even if she can't summon a workable image. Either way, she's emptying the cup as if it'll sooth the soreness in her throat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let the men handle themselves! &amp;quot;There, there, sweetling,&amp;quot; murmurs Val, who's risen enough to seek to pat the tanner between her shoulderblades. Poor coughing girl! The brownrider will even leave what's left of her drink upon the table, such a sacrifice to be parted from it for even a little while, but that's ''just'' the kind of girl Val is. &amp;quot;What kind of lengths ''do'' you like to measure? Does addition truly not suffice? Here and I'd thought it was frowned upon for apprentices to multiply.&amp;quot; At this rate, the tanner might even get her drink for free: what's H'vier going to do, make her cough it up?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now Bones has somebody new to scowl at, taking a step towards the big bronzerider but looking down at Val as he does so. &amp;quot;You're not ''helping'' you psycho!&amp;quot; It's only when he's up next to H'vier that he brings his gaze up to meet his, that extra inch of height not making him crane his neck by too much. &amp;quot;You fuckin' sleeze!&amp;quot; If witnesses are abound, Bones is the one to strike first, both of his calloused palms pushing hard at H'vier's chest.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If H'vier were going to try to get Lourna away from Val so he could herd her off more easily to somewhere more private, that idea goes right out the window when Bones approaches him. The bronzerider doesn't seem too worried about the gardener, standing up tall and stubborn but not bothering to put his glass down. The unexpected shove takes care of that, though, spilling whiskey onto H'vier before the glass falls to the floor. His attention is on Bones, though. Surprise quickly turns to real anger, though, and, like a good bull, H'vier charges the other man with the clear intention of tackling him to the ground. Hopefully clear of the glass.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's a moment where Lourna begins to reply to Val's inquiry, her voice laden with wry humor, but that is all spoiled by Bones' abruptly chivalrous defense of little girls everywhere. Well, maybe not little. Little girls do not have such round--so anyway, there Lourna is with her full lips parting in something akin to a mixture of horror and shock. There's no time for Val's very pretty, but sassy ways, and Lourna's figure stiffens with sudden tension. &amp;quot;He's a /bronzerider/,&amp;quot; the youth says aloud, her voice half-strangled. Riders are sacrosanct, aren't they? Her jaw remains practically unhinged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Psycho? Val gives the gardener an air-kiss for the 'compliment', might even comment to Lourna on the topic only then there's ''glass'' and ''shoving'' and two very big men, and her comment changes entirely. &amp;quot;He'd like you to think that,&amp;quot; she says suddenly, sharply, and grabs her drink with one hand before reaching to yank at Lourna's elbow with her elbow. ''Not'' for weyr-dragging, necessarily, but: &amp;quot;Out of their way.&amp;quot; Let's not get hit, please? Nearer the bar should be safe. Safe''r''.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
H'vier's extra height comes with it a few extra pounds of muscle to shove right into Bones' chest, but the gardener's feet shuffle quickly behind him to keep him standing, albeit moving straight back with frightening speed. A few awkwardly aimed punches are fired into H'viers ribs on the way back, but eventually he hits the edge of a table and crashes dramatically atop it's surface, sending flying drinks abound. It looks like H'vier was going to get on top of somebody that night after all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tugged somewhat out of the path of woe by Val's 'helpful' gesture, Lourna quickly shuffles out of the way, her dark green eyes still wide with alarm and no small amount of concern. For who is up in the air for the moment, but she glances side long at Val in disbelief. &amp;quot;He might be lecherous to some new, unimaginable extreme, but he didn't strike me as daft and bubble-brained enough to /lie/ in a weyr about being a rider,&amp;quot; Lourna says, her low-pitched voice suggesting the same disbelief etched upon smooth features. The cider is slowly kicking in, taking the edge off of her shock and giving a pleasant flush to her skin. Her attention returns to Bones' and H'vier's dispute just in time to spot the slightly shorter, older man go tumbling onto a table. &amp;quot;Hey! Hey, both of you! Knock it off, will you?&amp;quot; Lourna raises her voice readily, for all of the good it will do her. There's only a /slight/ tremor from trying to order a rider to do--well, anything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ladies forgotten for now, H'vier's full attention focuses on his assailant. The big bronzerider grunts, practically ''growls,'' through the punches that manage to hit him hard enough but what he lacks in grace or efficiency just now, he makes up for in single-minded determination, ingrained practice and strength. With Bones coming up against the table, H'vier finally swings a blow toward the other man's abdomen as he hisses, &amp;quot;Stay the fuck ''out'' of it. It don't involve you.&amp;quot; Apparently his grammar suffers when he's that angry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh, he probably has a big-ass dragon, all right,&amp;quot; and Val has a pretty mouth to be saying things like that with, &amp;quot;but making him special? Hardly.&amp;quot; Her laughter is pretty too, pretty and silvery, just before she downs her drink and trades it for a napkin from the nearest table... with which to snag one of the larger, curvier pieces of glass that's slid toward their feet. Just in case. She doesn't seek to forestall Lourna from trying to break things up verbally, nor to intercede herself. There's a bouncer ambling across the room, after all, in no real hurry: got to give people time to place their bets, after all. Though the brownrider does note, quite audibly, &amp;quot;Why, he practically sounds Holdless when he's perturbed.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The ex-convict takes the blow to his stomach well. Well enough anyway. The grunt that leaves him at the impact is one of genuine pain, and Bones is determined to ensure another doesn't land so clean. He reaches forward to clutch at H'vier's vest, and after securing it well in his grip, he rockets his forehead straight towards the bronzerider's face. Nose preferably, but in the heat of the moment he'd accept a cheek or an eye socket.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Big ass... Ooooh. /That/. The flush caused by her growing intoxication grows deeper, but Lourna doesn't let Val's mouth cause her any further consternation. &amp;quot;I think riding makes you very special,&amp;quot; Lourna says a little sheepishly, glancing downward with a brief flick of the eyes. But, it would seem by the way she steels herself and steps towards H'vier that she isn't content to watch the pair pound on each other. Wetting her lips nervously, she spreads her feet a little and reaches for H'vier while he is as intent upon Bones as the other man is on H'vier. Her intent isn't to harm so much as to slide her arms around H'vier's waist to, very likely fruitlessly, draw him away or stall his efforts. &amp;quot;That's enough. Really, this is completely unnecessary,&amp;quot; Lourna grunts softly through her efforts. She's relatively strong for her size, given her trade, but still falls spectacularly shy of likely either man's strength.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is the sort of thing that H'vier would probably be more likely to prevent if he hadn't been drinking immediately prior. Then again, if he hadn't been drinking, he might not be in this position in the first place. Such as it is, Barnabas' hard head meets H'vier's rather less hard nose with that sickening sort of crack that assures something isn't going to be right. It makes the bronzerider bellow a curse but rather than turn him from the scuffle, it just seems to drive him. He's aiming a blow more precisely toward Bones' ''face'' when there's Lourna on him, trying to pull him back. And once he realizes, that fire starts to die down, him standing there with his fist pulled back and nose bleeding. Because as lecherous as he may be, he doesn't want to hurt ''her.''&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;''Do'' you.&amp;quot; Val's dark brown eyes are opaque for that a slight smile still flirts with the curve of her mouth. It's not a question, doesn't expect an answer, doesn't even demand attention. Not when there's that ''crack'', her teeth showing in a responsive grin. The brownrider doesn't seek to stop Lourna from intervening bodily either, though her thumb might secretively slide along the too-similar curve of glass shard as though along a throat. She leans forward, slightly, that grin widening as a bluerider comes up and whispers to her. The bouncer is coming. The girl's looking to be successful. She melts away with the other woman, back into the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With hands still gripping tight at H'vier's chest, Bones is too lost in the melee to realize what precisely is giving H'vier pause with his raised fist. The advantage is cruelly taken by the dragonless one, his back pinned to the table beneath bronzerider. Suddenly, swiftly, a hard knee is sent hurdling up between the thighs of the slightly bigger man, aiming for the tools he seemed drunkenly intent on saving for the teen apprentice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's something about Val's voice that tickles the hairs upon the back of Lourna's neck, and leaves her feeling oddly dry mouthed. &amp;quot;Yes, I--&amp;quot; But, she's plenty distracted by the heaving hulk that is H'vier not exactly trapped by the circle of her arms about his waist. Lourna doesn't entirely sink against him in relief, but she might, just a little.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As if his face didn't hurt enough already! The knee that comes up between his legs earns a sound that is ''decidedly'' unmasculine. H'vier's fist drops as the rest of him crumples to his knees so close to Bones' feet, then forward as he tries to curl in on himself. Whether he drags Lourna along with him really depends on whether or not she lets go of him on his involuntary visit to the floor. He's cursing, or trying to curse, through strained, panting breathes. He's down, man, and he's not getting up for at least a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bones stands tall over his defeated foe for a few proud moments, teeth bared and fists clenched tight. It takes only a few quick breaths for him to come down from his anger, face softening slow at first but then brow pinching high in the middle. &amp;quot;I'm sorry! I got carried aw-&amp;quot; It's in the middle of his embarrassed apology for his violent behavior that karma swoops down opon him in the form of a pair of bouncers. Neither were as large as he or H'vier, but they make up for it in viciousness, one of them grabbing Bones by his tangled dreads and the other tackling him by his legs. With both working in tandem, Bones is brought to the ground, and is given a brief but savage lesson in humility. A few punches and kicks are administered, and he's dragged out of the Snowasis by force.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is some manner of embarrassment over the whole to-do, and it leaves the youth muttering to herself frantically in soft, hushed words. And then the force of Bones' blow to the most unfortunate place upon a man's body jars even Lourna. H'vier crumples to the ground, nearly pulling Lourna with him. And then Bones' repentant voice pierces the sudden agitation, but whatever he might have said by way of apology is smothered by the efficiency of the bouncers. And they don't want to hear a peep out of Lourna, even if she briefly, kneeling by H'vier's side, tries to come to his defense verbally. But, she's brushed off, and left to tend to the 'wounds', as it were. Leaning over the fetal H'vier, Lourna cringes, biting her lower lip. /Bronzerider/. What a disaster. &amp;quot;H'vier...? Can I help?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With his nose probably making his face look pretty awful, more the blood than forming bruises right now, H'vier remains pretty oblivious to other things for at least a little while. Long enough for the bouncers to take advantage of the situation. Soon enough, H'vier tries to reach out for Lourna's hand or wrist or forearm before he starts trying to pull himself back together enough to get up off the floor. &amp;quot;Think maybe you've done enough tonight,&amp;quot; he says to the girl like this is all somehow her fault and not his at all. &amp;quot;Tell'm to put the glass on my tab.&amp;quot; A point at the bar. &amp;quot;Then you can... go.&amp;quot; Whatever. He doesn't care so much right now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Kneeling over H'vier while he lays vulnerable and in pain, Lourna is at least attentive in her hovering, making soft sounds of distress. What a nightmare. Of course, hope and relief spread across her face as H'vier reaches out towards her, snagging her forearm where she has it pressed against him with her fingers planted against the floor. Lourna appears ready to speak, poised on the edge of rising to her feet as if to help him, but he crushes that reality with what leaves his lips. Hope vanishes, replaced with confusion and the first hints of guilt. The immediate reaction is to refuse his remarks, but H'vier's claim to Reisoth stills her tongue as she wonders whether or not it is. His dismissal is sharp, and somewhat cruel. Hunching her shoulders and tearing her eyes from him, the adolescent slinks to the bar as told, exchanges a few words with the tender before making her way for the exit, head down.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | &amp;lt;hr&amp;gt;&amp;lt;hr&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br&amp;gt;&amp;lt;h2&amp;gt;Comments&amp;lt;/h2&amp;gt;{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |&amp;lt;hr&amp;gt;&amp;lt;hr&amp;gt;}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;comments /&amp;gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Icon_lourna.jpg&amp;diff=10675</id>
		<title>File:Icon lourna.jpg</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Icon_lourna.jpg&amp;diff=10675"/>
				<updated>2013-01-22T08:44:03Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10522</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10522"/>
				<updated>2013-01-18T06:08:55Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=Lourna.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
    Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within   &lt;br /&gt;
  the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community &lt;br /&gt;
  within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in    &lt;br /&gt;
  childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has  &lt;br /&gt;
  since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt&lt;br /&gt;
  in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know &lt;br /&gt;
  her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her &lt;br /&gt;
  own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult&lt;br /&gt;
  for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter &lt;br /&gt;
  and brush-offs.                                                           &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven  &lt;br /&gt;
  herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Icons}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{HRW}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Lourna.jpg&amp;diff=10521</id>
		<title>File:Lourna.jpg</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Lourna.jpg&amp;diff=10521"/>
				<updated>2013-01-18T06:08:30Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	<entry>
		<id>https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10520</id>
		<title>Lourna</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Lourna&amp;diff=10520"/>
				<updated>2013-01-18T05:49:16Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Lourna: Created page with &amp;quot;{{HrwProfile |picture= |position=Apprentice |craft=Tannercraft |birthplace=High Reaches Weyr |mother= |father= |siblings=A few. |children=None. |friends= |playedby=Gemma Atkinson...&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{HrwProfile&lt;br /&gt;
|picture=&lt;br /&gt;
|position=Apprentice&lt;br /&gt;
|craft=Tannercraft&lt;br /&gt;
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr&lt;br /&gt;
|mother=&lt;br /&gt;
|father=&lt;br /&gt;
|siblings=A few.&lt;br /&gt;
|children=None.&lt;br /&gt;
|friends=&lt;br /&gt;
|playedby=Gemma Atkinson&lt;br /&gt;
|livejournal=}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Description ==&lt;br /&gt;
	An impish gleam resides in those dark olive green eyes, one corner of her mouth quirked into an expression on the brink of grinning. Her features are girlish, but not delicate, given to softened angles and even features. Neither short nor tall, this young woman is average height, falling somewhere just shy of five-foot-five. Although lean in build, the ample curve at her breast and the wide breadth of her hips suggest a woman doubly gifted for her gender--or otherwise inconvenienced as the snugness of her choice of clothing suggests in constricting her figure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
	Cut and fitted leather is the predominate make of her attire, binding her flesh comfortably and offering no handholds. Color is minimal, but brightly colored where dyed fabric escapes the constrains of oiled leather. The flesh left exposed is richly tanned, though not darkly so, and the slight paling of her dark blonde hair is evidence for much time spent in the sun when given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== WYSK ==&lt;br /&gt;
    Lourna is a lowly senior apprentice of the Tannercraft 'hall' within   &lt;br /&gt;
  the High Reaches weyr. Raised there from infancy largely by the community &lt;br /&gt;
  within the weyr, typically other craftsmen and women, her existence in    &lt;br /&gt;
  childhood and early adolescence has gone largely unnoticed.               &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * Lourna has been a candidate for a number of earlier Searches, but has  &lt;br /&gt;
  since failed to Impress. This has left her with some small manner of doubt&lt;br /&gt;
  in her abilities in certain areas; this is kept private from all who know &lt;br /&gt;
  her.                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * She has a bit of a gambling habit, and has been known to lose even her &lt;br /&gt;
  own boots. Thankfully, the winners have been generous--so far. Are you?   &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * Although capable of forming meaningful relationships, such is difficult&lt;br /&gt;
  for Lourna, as she has a tendency to cover up serious emotion with banter &lt;br /&gt;
  and brush-offs.                                                           &lt;br /&gt;
                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;
  * An apprentice craftswoman of the Tannercraft, Lourna has since proven  &lt;br /&gt;
  herself able in her own right in her craft.        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== History ==&lt;br /&gt;
A weyrbrat by birth, Lourna's upbringing was largely at the hands of the community rather than two doting parents, a commonplace manner of child rearing in weyrs in general. This instilled a distinct sense of community within the growing child, and would grow stronger still even into adolescence. With that sense of community, naturally, came a sense of belonging. She found her place early, giving her hand in menial chorework and labor from a young age onward, putting in any effort she could. As a member of such a tightly knit community, it was initially difficult for Lourna to develop a sense of individual identity. This would be a problem that would continue to plague her even after gaining apprenticeship amongst the weyr's tannercrafters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Although bolstered by the supportive network of those who saw to the daily needs of the weyr, weyrfolk who were not riders, but rather keepers of the weyr's food stores, cleaning its facilities and so on, Lourna withdrew as a personality. Eventually, she developed a sense of confidence in her work and ability, a thing she guards jealously from others even if able to make friends in a superficial sense; growing closer to others has troubled Lourna ever since childhood, quick to cover up sincerity and intentions of getting to know her with banter and empty wit. During her adolescence, Lourna was present as a candidate for a small number of Impressions when the Search was called, but has yet to Impress, a fact of which she is all too well aware.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Relationships ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== RP Logs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Icons}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{HRW}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Characters]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:High Reaches Area]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[category:Greater Pern]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Lourna</name></author>	</entry>

	</feed>