NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Logs:We're Still Here

2012-06-30T23:51:08Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Leova, Lujayn
| where = Anvori's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn takes the morning to visit Leova; the two discuss the recent changes, not-so-recent changes, and life.
| when = Day 11, Month 2, Turn 29 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.06.30
| quote =
| weather = Brilliant light plays off of the dunes of snow as a cloudless winter day brings with it extreme cold.
| categories =
| mentions = Iolene
| icons =
| log =

Though the sun is out and a few of the Weyr's snow-loving residents have bundled up to enjoy a lull in the winter winds, Lujayn is not among them today. Moving quietly along an inner corridor, she pauses to knock at the entrance to familiar quarters and shifts the small stack of hides under her arm. Surely there was enough work to keep her at home, but her expression suggests some unrest. Lu clears her throat with a peer inside: "Anyone home?"

Leova's familiar head pops out, and she laughs, "Lu! Just a minute," and then she's shooing Anvori and their daughter out the door and off to work. Not that her weyrmate is the sort to be shooed before his own time, or the toddler either for that matter, and there's the matter of finding a fallen moccasin and getting it onto a wiggly foot and... "There." Finally. Leova falls back onto the couch, frazzled. "Is yours that much of a...?"

Lujayn stands by, attempting to stay out of the way while the scene unfolds, with a small wave of farewell to Anvori and the child. She hovers near the sofa, her smile sympathetic. "I try to forget the worst of it. Nalani's about the same age - I don't have to imagine." And with that she flops down on the second sofa. "Hope you don't mind the early hour. Thought a change of scenery would help."

"It's all right." Leova's ignoring the detritus of child and woman, and maybe Lujayn will too. Or maybe it's just that she doesn't see it any longer. There's a sweater, though, draped over her couch's back, and that she does muster herself just enough to reach for: soft and plush and sized for Anvori. "Help what?" What is it today?

"It doesn't feel quite real," Lujayn admits to her feet, "This Weyrwoman business. I sit down with the hides," Moving said hides to the other cushion, their own place of honor. "Get right back up again, to the council room, the archives, the usual spots where workers work. Sitting where Tiriana sat-" Does this even make sense? "-it's like I'm waiting for her to come out of some dark corner. Maybe I'm going at it wrong."

Leova's been slowly folding the sweater as Lujayn talks, lining up the arms and then angling them back over the chest before folding the whole thing in half, not bothering with precision particularly. Now she slumps further, so she can lie lengthwise with the sweater as a pillow and look at her clutchmate that way. And blink a few times, now and again. Tired. "Never been there myself," she says with some hesitation. "But that sounds real hard. Like it's not your place yet. Like you've not made it your place?" A tired smile steals across her mouth. "Maybe if you plant trees."

Trees? Lujayn glances towards where a ledge might open were they sitting in the wingrider's weyr, no doubt imagining the unique vision of fruit trees growing halfway up a cliff face. "Felt like I had to be really careful to not.. ''embrace'' the thing too much. Y'know?" Maybe. She watches the sweater-folding for a moment before smoothing the bit of rug under her feet. Doing her part and all. "I could probably do well enough by painting. Redecorating." Taken with the simple solution to an itchy problem, she smiles. "Not mine, even if it's not hers anymore. Like I'm just pretending, or waiting for something else." Acting Acting?

Leova's got a nod for that, a quiet, "Like it'll break if you do." Or as though ''she'' will. "Painting sounds great. You can even have someone else do it, get it done fast. Which parts, what color? Or just the same thing made fresh?" She hesitates, curling her toes in oversized socks, straightening them out again. "What you said about the rest, though. There's no reason to think anybody's going to go up too soon. Is there." It's not ''quite'' a question.

"A mural," Lujayn doesn't have to think long for something that would give the living space a fresh start, relaxing ever so slightly in her seat. "Of mountains, or forest, or the ocean. Maybe all of them." A sidelong glance as she considers the rest, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. "Nah, I guess not. The weyrlings still so young, and Ri," There is a pause there, but not heavy, "Nah. You're right."

Leova's gaze lingers on Lujayn, if not quite focused. "The mural sounds great. Like tapestries, but not as formal... you know, you could put one in that tunnel bit going into the place, too." The depths of weyrwoman territory, council chamber and records room and everything. All of that. "I reckon what other people are wondering is, are you going to train Iolene like you got trained. And are you going to do something to get on better with our Holds than Tiriana ever did. And... but maybe those are the big ones, for starters."

Lujayn considers the almost-questions. "I wonder if she even wants training, now. Being so long without, acting as a rider and not a Junior. If I asked, if she'd refuse." Musings about Iolene fade into a small wrinkle in her brow, turning to thoughts of Holds. "If I could just swoop in and repay what was withheld.. that still wouldn't be the end of everything. All I can do is go on from here like I would do normally, Tiriana or no. Treat people fairly. Be honest." It doesn't sound that hard in theory.

There's a hitch to Leova's shoulder, the one that she's not leaning on. "Good question. Don't think Tiriana did right by her, there." There's only a slight pause, but she has to ask: "If she did refuse. What would you do. How important do you think the training is?" She might continue, but that's not all Lujayn's talked about. "Sounds like a change, all right. I wonder if their 'fair' is at all like our 'fair.'" The soft sound that escapes from her throat isn't ''quite'' a chuckle. "You could visit them one by one, bring them a barrel of cider for drinking your health with." And then, abruptly: "Could you say to her... all right, no training, but you're out of the running for Weyrwoman. Could you say that, could you ''do'' it."

Lujayn shakes her head, sobered. "No. No she did not." And what was kind of maybe her problem, turns back, is now actually her problem. "I don't want to say anything like that, but you're right. It's the truth and better than any emotional, duty-based sort of reason for doing training." Like the kind of thing she'd try to come up with. "I wouldn't want to, but I'd have to."

"Not unless you have to," Leova agrees, dangling her feet over the couch's other arm. "Though..." she glances over at Lu. "Io never struck me as being, well. All that logical. Or maybe it's ''different'' logic? I don't know. Emotional might be better. You helped her out some when she was a weyrling, didn't you? On the side?"

"I tried," Lujayn admits to that last. "Here and there, but it was difficult to do the job thoroughly." At least it's something, a brighter spot on her record. "Giving kind of an ultimatum like that might work better than saying someone 'should' do something. There are a lot of shoulds." Not to mention testing the waters of her authority in this way. "Good thing that's a little clearer job. Less of those muddy political waters."

"Sneaking around like you were? /Got/ to be tough," Leova agrees, her feet swinging back and forth, back and forth. The glowlight is soft and green on her face, and on the plants, kept up high these days out of a toddler's reach. A toddler who likes to /climb/. "I don't know. Would you like an ultimatum, 'do this or you're out'? What about.. what about just, 'This is your job.' And something about how you'll finish what you two started. Something nice. Keep the stick for later." Still her toes sway, not to any particular tempo. "Did you ever lose any of your babies? Before Nalani."

Lujayn is lost in thought for several moments, weighing one approach against another, seeing various merits and downsides before her eyes, all in silence. Then, "I'll figure it out. Write it down. Practice." If that conclusion was difficult to reach, dredging up long-buried memories is something else entirely. But Leova's not just anyone. "At Igen, yes. And once that I knew of before, but.. it can be hard to tell, if it goes too early." Her gaze is almost questioning, not pressing. "Worried about it happening again?"

There's a soft, reminiscent chuckle from the greenrider, and she repeats, "Practice.'" Like the old days, the silver threads working, ''working'' it out. "You're making me miss 'back when.'" When they were working together, when I'daur and Zunaeth were still alive. When Satiet was sitting in Lujayn's seat, not here but at the council table. Before their daughters were born. At length, Leova says to her toes, "Via's enough for me. Plenty. No, even if I'm not drinking that tea... it was so hard, Lu."

'Back when,' so simple. The weyrlingmasters had certainly never placed a situation like this on her papers. Before they had to truly inherit what they were being taught. "It was very different." She agrees, not just about past versus present. "I like being a mother." The admission seems to take her a little by surprise. "It's being important in a different way."

Amber eyes lift, somehow taken by surprise that much more. "What do you mean?" And, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Before." At Igen and not just Igen.

"You know.. to another person. Forever. And not for a rank or a Weyr or anything." Emotional stuff that Lujayn tries very hard to define. "A different kind of responsibility, too. Deeper."

"And she can't stop being your weyrmate," Leova murmurs, her voice gone quiet. "It doesn't seem... like it scares you." Her voice doesn't lift very much at all.

"Y'know, I don't think it does," Lujayn examines the idea curiously. "The more I think about it, it's exciting, and different. No one can take it away or try to do it better. It's mine." Pause, thought. "Yours, too."

The greenrider's gaze flicks back to the goldrider, her clutchmate. There's silence, and then she says, "You ''sound'' excited about it, in a thinking way. it's not just what you're saying. You sound more excited about that than, than Weyrwoman."

Lujayn's cheeks flush, just a bit. "I can really own being a mother. Weyrwoman.. passes, doesn't it? If I build my life around it and it goes away, what would I have?" A daughter. "Maybe it'll be permanent, maybe not, but I keep thinking if it's ''not'' Rielsath," Meeting Leova's gaze. "If it's not, I'd be okay."

"Does it? There are some women whose names clutch after clutch after weyrlings have to memorize," yet Leova's teasing has a softness to it. She's quiet, just those toes turning. "Though you're right, no counting before the eggs have hatched... I'm glad you'd be okay. I'm glad you think you'd be okay. It better be you, it should be you, but. If it's not. The girls need training, all of them. If the Reaches are going to be okay."

"Don't I know it." Lujayn has to smile, or else cry at the thought of training three goldriders simultaneously, two of them weyrlings. "I'll do everything I can," She reassures her friend. "And I'm not above a bit of help myself."

"That's right, it's not as though you're going to ''leave,''" but it is as though the startled-looking Leova might have forgotten, for a moment. She exhales, then abruptly stands, moving for the little table and the pot that's sitting there beneath its woolen cozy. While she's doctoring up two mugs, a plain one for Lujayn the way she used to like it and a sweetened and whitened one for herself, "That's reassuring. I wonder when Iolene will be back on her feet. She's in a hard spot too."

"I haven't seen her. Thought she'd need some time." Lujayn follows Leova's progress, thoughtful. "Have you heard anything?" Bound up in her own situation and its immediate concerns, she had been perfectly willing to allow the goldrider her space, now a little dismayed to be out of the loop.

But Leova shakes her head, and admits, "Only gossip. Some of it got pretty bad. Hope she doesn't hear about it." She's silent as she walks over, though the mugs aren't quite topped up, and she hands Lujayn hers: not as hot as it probably should be, but still warming to the insides. "Satiet," she begins, but stops there. "What do you want this place to be like, when our daughters are our age? Or maybe not quite so old."

Lujayn accepts the mug with quiet thanks, brows raising at the abandoned beginning. Instead, she takes a sip to mull over the question. "Would it make sense if I said the same? Or, almost the same. 'Reaches isn't a bad place." Looking for specifics, she continues, "Like a Weyr, a good Weyr with good people and fair leaders. Lots of different people, the freedom to be who you want." She considers for a moment more. "Is there anything you'd hope for?"

The greenrider gives Lujayn a sideways smile. "Reckon it does make sense, all right. I like it. And I didn't mind taking on Boll. All that fresh fruit didn't hurt either. Maybe the basics, just figuring out how to work better with our Holds? And making sure we keep getting tithe, but also seeing what riders can learn and ''do'' that doesn't have to do with Fall. And glows that never burn out," this last with a roll of her eyes up at her own dimming glows in their sconces, followed by another quick smile. "And I want Vrianth to stay happy with me."

"We've got it pretty good," Lujayn agrees. "But everlasting glows would take the cake. Everything else, we can work for." Including happy dragons, it would seem. "Anything I can do?"

"Take care of yourself?" Leova offers, once she's had some of her klah and gotten her voice easygoing again. "Don't go crazy or drink all the hard stuff by yourself, or change the Weyr colors to black and pink." Because Lujayn /could/, now. After a moment, "What's going on with E'gin these days?"

"I hadn't thought of that last one, the blue is good enough for me. Would it be a first?" Lujayn shoots a grin, gulps some of the klah. Not too hot is perfect. "E'gin's around. Not like you and Anvori, I mean; he likes spending time with Nalani. We catch each other up on life now and then. It's nice." Casual is nice.

"You're the Recordskeeper, not me," but then Leova sobers out of her laughter, at least a little. "Oh, Anvori. No. He wouldn't be. I'm glad it's working out, though. That things are looking up for you, at least when you aren't worried about your weyr being the one to get torched next." After a moment, "I wonder how Ezalea is doing, though I never ''knew'' her. Not well. Or how C'sel is, for that matter."

"I'll keep a bucket of water nearby." Lujayn chimes in before the remembered names summon faces, almost more of them than one person can recall. "There are so many people we've lost touch with," She sighs. "People move on, I guess. Or grow apart. Lucky we're both still here to remember."

Leova has to laugh right off, and a little later, even more. She picks up a pillow and warns, "If you weren't holding that klah, over ''my'' couch, I'd hit you right now. We're not that ancient. Imagine if we had to count everyone who's ''stayed.''"

Lujayn cackles a little bit, though there doesn't seem to be much left in her cup to spill. "Listen to us over our klah, reminiscing and thinking after the good old days, then," She teases. "With the pitter-patter of little feet and all. Maybe I should feel older, just to make sure I act like an adult."

More laughing. "Maybe so." Leova puts her mug on the floor out of the way and advances towards her friend with her pillow held high. "Go ahead. Put down your klah. If you ''dare''."

Raising the drops left in her mug as if in defense, there's a bark of breathless laughter as Lu leans evasively to one side. Cowering in her own pillows, rolling straight over the long-forgotten hides of responsibility, her free hand finds a cushion and then - well, who says two completely ''adult'' people are past having a riotous good time?

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Logs:We're Still Here

2012-06-30T23:50:25Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Leova, Lujayn
| where = Anvori's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn takes the morning to visit Leova; the two discuss the recent changes, not-so-recent changes, and life.
| when = Day 11, Month 2, Turn 29 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.06.30
| quote =
| weather =
Brilliant light plays off of the dunes of snow as a cloudless winter day
brings with it extreme cold.
| categories =
| mentions = Iolene
| icons =
| log =

Though the sun is out and a few of the Weyr's snow-loving residents have bundled up to enjoy a lull in the winter winds, Lujayn is not among them today. Moving quietly along an inner corridor, she pauses to knock at the entrance to familiar quarters and shifts the small stack of hides under her arm. Surely there was enough work to keep her at home, but her expression suggests some unrest. Lu clears her throat with a peer inside: "Anyone home?"

Leova's familiar head pops out, and she laughs, "Lu! Just a minute," and then she's shooing Anvori and their daughter out the door and off to work. Not that her weyrmate is the sort to be shooed before his own time, or the toddler either for that matter, and there's the matter of finding a fallen moccasin and getting it onto a wiggly foot and... "There." Finally. Leova falls back onto the couch, frazzled. "Is yours that much of a...?"

Lujayn stands by, attempting to stay out of the way while the scene unfolds, with a small wave of farewell to Anvori and the child. She hovers near the sofa, her smile sympathetic. "I try to forget the worst of it. Nalani's about the same age - I don't have to imagine." And with that she flops down on the second sofa. "Hope you don't mind the early hour. Thought a change of scenery would help."

"It's all right." Leova's ignoring the detritus of child and woman, and maybe Lujayn will too. Or maybe it's just that she doesn't see it any longer. There's a sweater, though, draped over her couch's back, and that she does muster herself just enough to reach for: soft and plush and sized for Anvori. "Help what?" What is it today?

"It doesn't feel quite real," Lujayn admits to her feet, "This Weyrwoman business. I sit down with the hides," Moving said hides to the other cushion, their own place of honor. "Get right back up again, to the council room, the archives, the usual spots where workers work. Sitting where Tiriana sat-" Does this even make sense? "-it's like I'm waiting for her to come out of some dark corner. Maybe I'm going at it wrong."

Leova's been slowly folding the sweater as Lujayn talks, lining up the arms and then angling them back over the chest before folding the whole thing in half, not bothering with precision particularly. Now she slumps further, so she can lie lengthwise with the sweater as a pillow and look at her clutchmate that way. And blink a few times, now and again. Tired. "Never been there myself," she says with some hesitation. "But that sounds real hard. Like it's not your place yet. Like you've not made it your place?" A tired smile steals across her mouth. "Maybe if you plant trees."

Trees? Lujayn glances towards where a ledge might open were they sitting in the wingrider's weyr, no doubt imagining the unique vision of fruit trees growing halfway up a cliff face. "Felt like I had to be really careful to not.. ''embrace'' the thing too much. Y'know?" Maybe. She watches the sweater-folding for a moment before smoothing the bit of rug under her feet. Doing her part and all. "I could probably do well enough by painting. Redecorating." Taken with the simple solution to an itchy problem, she smiles. "Not mine, even if it's not hers anymore. Like I'm just pretending, or waiting for something else." Acting Acting?

Leova's got a nod for that, a quiet, "Like it'll break if you do." Or as though ''she'' will. "Painting sounds great. You can even have someone else do it, get it done fast. Which parts, what color? Or just the same thing made fresh?" She hesitates, curling her toes in oversized socks, straightening them out again. "What you said about the rest, though. There's no reason to think anybody's going to go up too soon. Is there." It's not ''quite'' a question.

"A mural," Lujayn doesn't have to think long for something that would give the living space a fresh start, relaxing ever so slightly in her seat. "Of mountains, or forest, or the ocean. Maybe all of them." A sidelong glance as she considers the rest, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. "Nah, I guess not. The weyrlings still so young, and Ri," There is a pause there, but not heavy, "Nah. You're right."

Leova's gaze lingers on Lujayn, if not quite focused. "The mural sounds great. Like tapestries, but not as formal... you know, you could put one in that tunnel bit going into the place, too." The depths of weyrwoman territory, council chamber and records room and everything. All of that. "I reckon what other people are wondering is, are you going to train Iolene like you got trained. And are you going to do something to get on better with our Holds than Tiriana ever did. And... but maybe those are the big ones, for starters."

Lujayn considers the almost-questions. "I wonder if she even wants training, now. Being so long without, acting as a rider and not a Junior. If I asked, if she'd refuse." Musings about Iolene fade into a small wrinkle in her brow, turning to thoughts of Holds. "If I could just swoop in and repay what was withheld.. that still wouldn't be the end of everything. All I can do is go on from here like I would do normally, Tiriana or no. Treat people fairly. Be honest." It doesn't sound that hard in theory.

There's a hitch to Leova's shoulder, the one that she's not leaning on. "Good question. Don't think Tiriana did right by her, there." There's only a slight pause, but she has to ask: "If she did refuse. What would you do. How important do you think the training is?" She might continue, but that's not all Lujayn's talked about. "Sounds like a change, all right. I wonder if their 'fair' is at all like our 'fair.'" The soft sound that escapes from her throat isn't ''quite'' a chuckle. "You could visit them one by one, bring them a barrel of cider for drinking your health with." And then, abruptly: "Could you say to her... all right, no training, but you're out of the running for Weyrwoman. Could you say that, could you ''do'' it."

Lujayn shakes her head, sobered. "No. No she did not." And what was kind of maybe her problem, turns back, is now actually her problem. "I don't want to say anything like that, but you're right. It's the truth and better than any emotional, duty-based sort of reason for doing training." Like the kind of thing she'd try to come up with. "I wouldn't want to, but I'd have to."

"Not unless you have to," Leova agrees, dangling her feet over the couch's other arm. "Though..." she glances over at Lu. "Io never struck me as being, well. All that logical. Or maybe it's ''different'' logic? I don't know. Emotional might be better. You helped her out some when she was a weyrling, didn't you? On the side?"

"I tried," Lujayn admits to that last. "Here and there, but it was difficult to do the job thoroughly." At least it's something, a brighter spot on her record. "Giving kind of an ultimatum like that might work better than saying someone 'should' do something. There are a lot of shoulds." Not to mention testing the waters of her authority in this way. "Good thing that's a little clearer job. Less of those muddy political waters."

"Sneaking around like you were? /Got/ to be tough," Leova agrees, her feet swinging back and forth, back and forth. The glowlight is soft and green on her face, and on the plants, kept up high these days out of a toddler's reach. A toddler who likes to /climb/. "I don't know. Would you like an ultimatum, 'do this or you're out'? What about.. what about just, 'This is your job.' And something about how you'll finish what you two started. Something nice. Keep the stick for later." Still her toes sway, not to any particular tempo. "Did you ever lose any of your babies? Before Nalani."

Lujayn is lost in thought for several moments, weighing one approach against another, seeing various merits and downsides before her eyes, all in silence. Then, "I'll figure it out. Write it down. Practice." If that conclusion was difficult to reach, dredging up long-buried memories is something else entirely. But Leova's not just anyone. "At Igen, yes. And once that I knew of before, but.. it can be hard to tell, if it goes too early." Her gaze is almost questioning, not pressing. "Worried about it happening again?"

There's a soft, reminiscent chuckle from the greenrider, and she repeats, "Practice.'" Like the old days, the silver threads working, ''working'' it out. "You're making me miss 'back when.'" When they were working together, when I'daur and Zunaeth were still alive. When Satiet was sitting in Lujayn's seat, not here but at the council table. Before their daughters were born. At length, Leova says to her toes, "Via's enough for me. Plenty. No, even if I'm not drinking that tea... it was so hard, Lu."

'Back when,' so simple. The weyrlingmasters had certainly never placed a situation like this on her papers. Before they had to truly inherit what they were being taught. "It was very different." She agrees, not just about past versus present. "I like being a mother." The admission seems to take her a little by surprise. "It's being important in a different way."

Amber eyes lift, somehow taken by surprise that much more. "What do you mean?" And, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Before." At Igen and not just Igen.

"You know.. to another person. Forever. And not for a rank or a Weyr or anything." Emotional stuff that Lujayn tries very hard to define. "A different kind of responsibility, too. Deeper."

"And she can't stop being your weyrmate," Leova murmurs, her voice gone quiet. "It doesn't seem... like it scares you." Her voice doesn't lift very much at all.

"Y'know, I don't think it does," Lujayn examines the idea curiously. "The more I think about it, it's exciting, and different. No one can take it away or try to do it better. It's mine." Pause, thought. "Yours, too."

The greenrider's gaze flicks back to the goldrider, her clutchmate. There's silence, and then she says, "You ''sound'' excited about it, in a thinking way. it's not just what you're saying. You sound more excited about that than, than Weyrwoman."

Lujayn's cheeks flush, just a bit. "I can really own being a mother. Weyrwoman.. passes, doesn't it? If I build my life around it and it goes away, what would I have?" A daughter. "Maybe it'll be permanent, maybe not, but I keep thinking if it's ''not'' Rielsath," Meeting Leova's gaze. "If it's not, I'd be okay."

"Does it? There are some women whose names clutch after clutch after weyrlings have to memorize," yet Leova's teasing has a softness to it. She's quiet, just those toes turning. "Though you're right, no counting before the eggs have hatched... I'm glad you'd be okay. I'm glad you think you'd be okay. It better be you, it should be you, but. If it's not. The girls need training, all of them. If the Reaches are going to be okay."

"Don't I know it." Lujayn has to smile, or else cry at the thought of training three goldriders simultaneously, two of them weyrlings. "I'll do everything I can," She reassures her friend. "And I'm not above a bit of help myself."

"That's right, it's not as though you're going to ''leave,''" but it is as though the startled-looking Leova might have forgotten, for a moment. She exhales, then abruptly stands, moving for the little table and the pot that's sitting there beneath its woolen cozy. While she's doctoring up two mugs, a plain one for Lujayn the way she used to like it and a sweetened and whitened one for herself, "That's reassuring. I wonder when Iolene will be back on her feet. She's in a hard spot too."

"I haven't seen her. Thought she'd need some time." Lujayn follows Leova's progress, thoughtful. "Have you heard anything?" Bound up in her own situation and its immediate concerns, she had been perfectly willing to allow the goldrider her space, now a little dismayed to be out of the loop.

But Leova shakes her head, and admits, "Only gossip. Some of it got pretty bad. Hope she doesn't hear about it." She's silent as she walks over, though the mugs aren't quite topped up, and she hands Lujayn hers: not as hot as it probably should be, but still warming to the insides. "Satiet," she begins, but stops there. "What do you want this place to be like, when our daughters are our age? Or maybe not quite so old."

Lujayn accepts the mug with quiet thanks, brows raising at the abandoned beginning. Instead, she takes a sip to mull over the question. "Would it make sense if I said the same? Or, almost the same. 'Reaches isn't a bad place." Looking for specifics, she continues, "Like a Weyr, a good Weyr with good people and fair leaders. Lots of different people, the freedom to be who you want." She considers for a moment more. "Is there anything you'd hope for?"

The greenrider gives Lujayn a sideways smile. "Reckon it does make sense, all right. I like it. And I didn't mind taking on Boll. All that fresh fruit didn't hurt either. Maybe the basics, just figuring out how to work better with our Holds? And making sure we keep getting tithe, but also seeing what riders can learn and ''do'' that doesn't have to do with Fall. And glows that never burn out," this last with a roll of her eyes up at her own dimming glows in their sconces, followed by another quick smile. "And I want Vrianth to stay happy with me."

"We've got it pretty good," Lujayn agrees. "But everlasting glows would take the cake. Everything else, we can work for." Including happy dragons, it would seem. "Anything I can do?"

"Take care of yourself?" Leova offers, once she's had some of her klah and gotten her voice easygoing again. "Don't go crazy or drink all the hard stuff by yourself, or change the Weyr colors to black and pink." Because Lujayn /could/, now. After a moment, "What's going on with E'gin these days?"

"I hadn't thought of that last one, the blue is good enough for me. Would it be a first?" Lujayn shoots a grin, gulps some of the klah. Not too hot is perfect. "E'gin's around. Not like you and Anvori, I mean; he likes spending time with Nalani. We catch each other up on life now and then. It's nice." Casual is nice.

"You're the Recordskeeper, not me," but then Leova sobers out of her laughter, at least a little. "Oh, Anvori. No. He wouldn't be. I'm glad it's working out, though. That things are looking up for you, at least when you aren't worried about your weyr being the one to get torched next." After a moment, "I wonder how Ezalea is doing, though I never ''knew'' her. Not well. Or how C'sel is, for that matter."

"I'll keep a bucket of water nearby." Lujayn chimes in before the remembered names summon faces, almost more of them than one person can recall. "There are so many people we've lost touch with," She sighs. "People move on, I guess. Or grow apart. Lucky we're both still here to remember."

Leova has to laugh right off, and a little later, even more. She picks up a pillow and warns, "If you weren't holding that klah, over ''my'' couch, I'd hit you right now. We're not that ancient. Imagine if we had to count everyone who's ''stayed.''"

Lujayn cackles a little bit, though there doesn't seem to be much left in her cup to spill. "Listen to us over our klah, reminiscing and thinking after the good old days, then," She teases. "With the pitter-patter of little feet and all. Maybe I should feel older, just to make sure I act like an adult."

More laughing. "Maybe so." Leova puts her mug on the floor out of the way and advances towards her friend with her pillow held high. "Go ahead. Put down your klah. If you ''dare''."

Raising the drops left in her mug as if in defense, there's a bark of breathless laughter as Lu leans evasively to one side. Cowering in her own pillows, rolling straight over the long-forgotten hides of responsibility, her free hand finds a cushion and then - well, who says two completely ''adult'' people are past having a riotous good time?

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Logs:We're Still Here

2012-06-30T23:49:43Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Leova, Lujayn | where = Anvori's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr | what = Lujayn takes the morning to visit Leova; the two discuss the recent changes, not-so-recent ch..."

{{ Log
| who = Leova, Lujayn
| where = Anvori's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn takes the morning to visit Leova; the two discuss the recent changes, not-so-recent changes, and life.
| when = Day 11, Month 2, Turn 29 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.06.30
| quote =
| weather = Brilliant light plays off of the dunes of snow as a cloudless winter day
brings with it extreme cold.
| categories =
| mentions = Iolene
| icons =
| log =

Though the sun is out and a few of the Weyr's snow-loving residents have bundled up to enjoy a lull in the winter winds, Lujayn is not among them today. Moving quietly along an inner corridor, she pauses to knock at the entrance to familiar quarters and shifts the small stack of hides under her arm. Surely there was enough work to keep her at home, but her expression suggests some unrest. Lu clears her throat with a peer inside: "Anyone home?"

Leova's familiar head pops out, and she laughs, "Lu! Just a minute," and then she's shooing Anvori and their daughter out the door and off to work. Not that her weyrmate is the sort to be shooed before his own time, or the toddler either for that matter, and there's the matter of finding a fallen moccasin and getting it onto a wiggly foot and... "There." Finally. Leova falls back onto the couch, frazzled. "Is yours that much of a...?"

Lujayn stands by, attempting to stay out of the way while the scene unfolds, with a small wave of farewell to Anvori and the child. She hovers near the sofa, her smile sympathetic. "I try to forget the worst of it. Nalani's about the same age - I don't have to imagine." And with that she flops down on the second sofa. "Hope you don't mind the early hour. Thought a change of scenery would help."

"It's all right." Leova's ignoring the detritus of child and woman, and maybe Lujayn will too. Or maybe it's just that she doesn't see it any longer. There's a sweater, though, draped over her couch's back, and that she does muster herself just enough to reach for: soft and plush and sized for Anvori. "Help what?" What is it today?

"It doesn't feel quite real," Lujayn admits to her feet, "This Weyrwoman business. I sit down with the hides," Moving said hides to the other cushion, their own place of honor. "Get right back up again, to the council room, the archives, the usual spots where workers work. Sitting where Tiriana sat-" Does this even make sense? "-it's like I'm waiting for her to come out of some dark corner. Maybe I'm going at it wrong."

Leova's been slowly folding the sweater as Lujayn talks, lining up the arms and then angling them back over the chest before folding the whole thing in half, not bothering with precision particularly. Now she slumps further, so she can lie lengthwise with the sweater as a pillow and look at her clutchmate that way. And blink a few times, now and again. Tired. "Never been there myself," she says with some hesitation. "But that sounds real hard. Like it's not your place yet. Like you've not made it your place?" A tired smile steals across her mouth. "Maybe if you plant trees."

Trees? Lujayn glances towards where a ledge might open were they sitting in the wingrider's weyr, no doubt imagining the unique vision of fruit trees growing halfway up a cliff face. "Felt like I had to be really careful to not.. ''embrace'' the thing too much. Y'know?" Maybe. She watches the sweater-folding for a moment before smoothing the bit of rug under her feet. Doing her part and all. "I could probably do well enough by painting. Redecorating." Taken with the simple solution to an itchy problem, she smiles. "Not mine, even if it's not hers anymore. Like I'm just pretending, or waiting for something else." Acting Acting?

Leova's got a nod for that, a quiet, "Like it'll break if you do." Or as though ''she'' will. "Painting sounds great. You can even have someone else do it, get it done fast. Which parts, what color? Or just the same thing made fresh?" She hesitates, curling her toes in oversized socks, straightening them out again. "What you said about the rest, though. There's no reason to think anybody's going to go up too soon. Is there." It's not ''quite'' a question.

"A mural," Lujayn doesn't have to think long for something that would give the living space a fresh start, relaxing ever so slightly in her seat. "Of mountains, or forest, or the ocean. Maybe all of them." A sidelong glance as she considers the rest, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. "Nah, I guess not. The weyrlings still so young, and Ri," There is a pause there, but not heavy, "Nah. You're right."

Leova's gaze lingers on Lujayn, if not quite focused. "The mural sounds great. Like tapestries, but not as formal... you know, you could put one in that tunnel bit going into the place, too." The depths of weyrwoman territory, council chamber and records room and everything. All of that. "I reckon what other people are wondering is, are you going to train Iolene like you got trained. And are you going to do something to get on better with our Holds than Tiriana ever did. And... but maybe those are the big ones, for starters."

Lujayn considers the almost-questions. "I wonder if she even wants training, now. Being so long without, acting as a rider and not a Junior. If I asked, if she'd refuse." Musings about Iolene fade into a small wrinkle in her brow, turning to thoughts of Holds. "If I could just swoop in and repay what was withheld.. that still wouldn't be the end of everything. All I can do is go on from here like I would do normally, Tiriana or no. Treat people fairly. Be honest." It doesn't sound that hard in theory.

There's a hitch to Leova's shoulder, the one that she's not leaning on. "Good question. Don't think Tiriana did right by her, there." There's only a slight pause, but she has to ask: "If she did refuse. What would you do. How important do you think the training is?" She might continue, but that's not all Lujayn's talked about. "Sounds like a change, all right. I wonder if their 'fair' is at all like our 'fair.'" The soft sound that escapes from her throat isn't ''quite'' a chuckle. "You could visit them one by one, bring them a barrel of cider for drinking your health with." And then, abruptly: "Could you say to her... all right, no training, but you're out of the running for Weyrwoman. Could you say that, could you ''do'' it."

Lujayn shakes her head, sobered. "No. No she did not." And what was kind of maybe her problem, turns back, is now actually her problem. "I don't want to say anything like that, but you're right. It's the truth and better than any emotional, duty-based sort of reason for doing training." Like the kind of thing she'd try to come up with. "I wouldn't want to, but I'd have to."

"Not unless you have to," Leova agrees, dangling her feet over the couch's other arm. "Though..." she glances over at Lu. "Io never struck me as being, well. All that logical. Or maybe it's ''different'' logic? I don't know. Emotional might be better. You helped her out some when she was a weyrling, didn't you? On the side?"

"I tried," Lujayn admits to that last. "Here and there, but it was difficult to do the job thoroughly." At least it's something, a brighter spot on her record. "Giving kind of an ultimatum like that might work better than saying someone 'should' do something. There are a lot of shoulds." Not to mention testing the waters of her authority in this way. "Good thing that's a little clearer job. Less of those muddy political waters."

"Sneaking around like you were? /Got/ to be tough," Leova agrees, her feet swinging back and forth, back and forth. The glowlight is soft and green on her face, and on the plants, kept up high these days out of a toddler's reach. A toddler who likes to /climb/. "I don't know. Would you like an ultimatum, 'do this or you're out'? What about.. what about just, 'This is your job.' And something about how you'll finish what you two started. Something nice. Keep the stick for later." Still her toes sway, not to any particular tempo. "Did you ever lose any of your babies? Before Nalani."

Lujayn is lost in thought for several moments, weighing one approach against another, seeing various merits and downsides before her eyes, all in silence. Then, "I'll figure it out. Write it down. Practice." If that conclusion was difficult to reach, dredging up long-buried memories is something else entirely. But Leova's not just anyone. "At Igen, yes. And once that I knew of before, but.. it can be hard to tell, if it goes too early." Her gaze is almost questioning, not pressing. "Worried about it happening again?"

There's a soft, reminiscent chuckle from the greenrider, and she repeats, "Practice.'" Like the old days, the silver threads working, ''working'' it out. "You're making me miss 'back when.'" When they were working together, when I'daur and Zunaeth were still alive. When Satiet was sitting in Lujayn's seat, not here but at the council table. Before their daughters were born. At length, Leova says to her toes, "Via's enough for me. Plenty. No, even if I'm not drinking that tea... it was so hard, Lu."

'Back when,' so simple. The weyrlingmasters had certainly never placed a situation like this on her papers. Before they had to truly inherit what they were being taught. "It was very different." She agrees, not just about past versus present. "I like being a mother." The admission seems to take her a little by surprise. "It's being important in a different way."

Amber eyes lift, somehow taken by surprise that much more. "What do you mean?" And, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Before." At Igen and not just Igen.

"You know.. to another person. Forever. And not for a rank or a Weyr or anything." Emotional stuff that Lujayn tries very hard to define. "A different kind of responsibility, too. Deeper."

"And she can't stop being your weyrmate," Leova murmurs, her voice gone quiet. "It doesn't seem... like it scares you." Her voice doesn't lift very much at all.

"Y'know, I don't think it does," Lujayn examines the idea curiously. "The more I think about it, it's exciting, and different. No one can take it away or try to do it better. It's mine." Pause, thought. "Yours, too."

The greenrider's gaze flicks back to the goldrider, her clutchmate. There's silence, and then she says, "You ''sound'' excited about it, in a thinking way. it's not just what you're saying. You sound more excited about that than, than Weyrwoman."

Lujayn's cheeks flush, just a bit. "I can really own being a mother. Weyrwoman.. passes, doesn't it? If I build my life around it and it goes away, what would I have?" A daughter. "Maybe it'll be permanent, maybe not, but I keep thinking if it's ''not'' Rielsath," Meeting Leova's gaze. "If it's not, I'd be okay."

"Does it? There are some women whose names clutch after clutch after weyrlings have to memorize," yet Leova's teasing has a softness to it. She's quiet, just those toes turning. "Though you're right, no counting before the eggs have hatched... I'm glad you'd be okay. I'm glad you think you'd be okay. It better be you, it should be you, but. If it's not. The girls need training, all of them. If the Reaches are going to be okay."

"Don't I know it." Lujayn has to smile, or else cry at the thought of training three goldriders simultaneously, two of them weyrlings. "I'll do everything I can," She reassures her friend. "And I'm not above a bit of help myself."

"That's right, it's not as though you're going to ''leave,''" but it is as though the startled-looking Leova might have forgotten, for a moment. She exhales, then abruptly stands, moving for the little table and the pot that's sitting there beneath its woolen cozy. While she's doctoring up two mugs, a plain one for Lujayn the way she used to like it and a sweetened and whitened one for herself, "That's reassuring. I wonder when Iolene will be back on her feet. She's in a hard spot too."

"I haven't seen her. Thought she'd need some time." Lujayn follows Leova's progress, thoughtful. "Have you heard anything?" Bound up in her own situation and its immediate concerns, she had been perfectly willing to allow the goldrider her space, now a little dismayed to be out of the loop.

But Leova shakes her head, and admits, "Only gossip. Some of it got pretty bad. Hope she doesn't hear about it." She's silent as she walks over, though the mugs aren't quite topped up, and she hands Lujayn hers: not as hot as it probably should be, but still warming to the insides. "Satiet," she begins, but stops there. "What do you want this place to be like, when our daughters are our age? Or maybe not quite so old."

Lujayn accepts the mug with quiet thanks, brows raising at the abandoned beginning. Instead, she takes a sip to mull over the question. "Would it make sense if I said the same? Or, almost the same. 'Reaches isn't a bad place." Looking for specifics, she continues, "Like a Weyr, a good Weyr with good people and fair leaders. Lots of different people, the freedom to be who you want." She considers for a moment more. "Is there anything you'd hope for?"

The greenrider gives Lujayn a sideways smile. "Reckon it does make sense, all right. I like it. And I didn't mind taking on Boll. All that fresh fruit didn't hurt either. Maybe the basics, just figuring out how to work better with our Holds? And making sure we keep getting tithe, but also seeing what riders can learn and ''do'' that doesn't have to do with Fall. And glows that never burn out," this last with a roll of her eyes up at her own dimming glows in their sconces, followed by another quick smile. "And I want Vrianth to stay happy with me."

"We've got it pretty good," Lujayn agrees. "But everlasting glows would take the cake. Everything else, we can work for." Including happy dragons, it would seem. "Anything I can do?"

"Take care of yourself?" Leova offers, once she's had some of her klah and gotten her voice easygoing again. "Don't go crazy or drink all the hard stuff by yourself, or change the Weyr colors to black and pink." Because Lujayn /could/, now. After a moment, "What's going on with E'gin these days?"

"I hadn't thought of that last one, the blue is good enough for me. Would it be a first?" Lujayn shoots a grin, gulps some of the klah. Not too hot is perfect. "E'gin's around. Not like you and Anvori, I mean; he likes spending time with Nalani. We catch each other up on life now and then. It's nice." Casual is nice.

"You're the Recordskeeper, not me," but then Leova sobers out of her laughter, at least a little. "Oh, Anvori. No. He wouldn't be. I'm glad it's working out, though. That things are looking up for you, at least when you aren't worried about your weyr being the one to get torched next." After a moment, "I wonder how Ezalea is doing, though I never ''knew'' her. Not well. Or how C'sel is, for that matter."

"I'll keep a bucket of water nearby." Lujayn chimes in before the remembered names summon faces, almost more of them than one person can recall. "There are so many people we've lost touch with," She sighs. "People move on, I guess. Or grow apart. Lucky we're both still here to remember."

Leova has to laugh right off, and a little later, even more. She picks up a pillow and warns, "If you weren't holding that klah, over ''my'' couch, I'd hit you right now. We're not that ancient. Imagine if we had to count everyone who's ''stayed.''"

Lujayn cackles a little bit, though there doesn't seem to be much left in her cup to spill. "Listen to us over our klah, reminiscing and thinking after the good old days, then," She teases. "With the pitter-patter of little feet and all. Maybe I should feel older, just to make sure I act like an adult."

More laughing. "Maybe so." Leova puts her mug on the floor out of the way and advances towards her friend with her pillow held high. "Go ahead. Put down your klah. If you ''dare''."

Raising the drops left in her mug as if in defense, there's a bark of breathless laughter as Lu leans evasively to one side. Cowering in her own pillows, rolling straight over the long-forgotten hides of responsibility, her free hand finds a cushion and then - well, who says two completely ''adult'' people are past having a riotous good time?

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File:Lujayn.jpg

2012-05-24T17:02:28Z

Lujayn: uploaded a new version of "File:Lujayn.jpg"

File:Icon lujayn.jpg

2012-05-24T16:51:33Z

Lujayn: uploaded a new version of "File:Icon lujayn.jpg"

Lujayn

2012-05-24T16:29:09Z

Lujayn:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Lujayn.jpg|Lujayn
|name=Lujayn
|position=Junior Weyrwoman (Aurora Wing)
|dragon=Sun in Winter Gold [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch27/rielsath/ Rielsath]
|birthplace=Fort Weyr
|mother=Jaia, Greenrider
|father=E'tyn, Brownrider
|siblings=Vague half-siblings.
* E'tan (Ethian) and blue Pwylth, from Iovniath x Cadejoth #3)
|children=Daughter Nalani
|friends=Many. Clutchmates, notably [[Leova]] and [[E'dre]]; P'draig, [[Emme]]
|craft=Runnercraft
|playedby=Mia Wasikowska
|livejournal= [http://alchemy_l.livejournal.com alchemy_l]
}}

== Description ==

* A tall, lanky woman with a spirited air. Her round face is set with curious gray eyes framed by long lashes, a stubborn mouth often smiling over her dimpled chin. Lu's tawny hair, lightened from hours in the sun, reaches past her shoulders, an untamed and flaglike mane of waves and curls. She moves quickly with practiced sure-footedness, eager to show what she knows and all that she's able to do. Her height is just about 5' 8", accentuating a willowy frame without much notable curve. Her clothes are notably practical but colorful, a few more exotic pieces sneaking into her wardrobe for rare times she doesn't run the risk of getting dirty.

== WYSK ==

* Personable, curious and quick to smile, Lu is a notable contrast to the two frostier goldriders of High Reaches.

* A Fort Weyr native, her athletic bent is lifelong: she started early as a runner between Weyr, Hold and Halls.

* Searched by Reachian Emilly's green Sionath, she Impressed the Sun in Winter Gold Rielsath from Teonath and Wyaeth's clutch at age sixteen (Day 31, Month 8, Turn 15).

* Old enough to have experienced and fought in the Comet Pass.

== History ==

* Born in Fort Weyr, raised to eventually become a message-carrier and accomplished runner, making many friends in the area and in other Halls and Weyrs she visited.

* Lujayn experienced several different environments at a young age, standing for clutches at her Fortian home, Telgar (alongside longtime Weyrleader T'rev, and ultimately High Reaches Weyr.

* Lu and Rielsath transferred to Igen during Turn 20 in exchange for Ezalea and Nahalith, a stay that turned out to be much more lengthy than predicted despite the other goldrider's premature departure.

* She was reknotted as a Jr. Weyrwoman of High Reaches in month 4 of Turn 25, marking her official return. Not long after, Lu was part of the trio of riders to discover the exiles' island (including [[Z'yi]] and [[Taikrin]].

== Rielsath ==

* Streamlined in lean athleticism, brilliant sunfire hide stretches thin across her fine, swift form, the blinding gold of light melting a once-frozen landscape. Winter clings to her sleek underbelly and the tops of her paws in mottled shades of white-gold and heated amber, unable to remain consistent as the sun's bold reach claims her hide. Appearing like glistening dewdrops, melted snow graces the very tips of her sharpened neckridges, their lethal descent traveling the length of her long back, past the outjuts of delicately sculpted wings, to smooth and trail off at her double-pronged, playful tail. Long, thin wingspars, wrapped in near-sheer hide, open to reveal buoyant frosted sails that appear as if they could unfurl further but are instead held close, swept back aerodynamically and meant for airspeed. Incongruously wizened ridges arc over her inquisitive eyes, prominent fixtures on an otherwise slim, youthful, and innocent face.

* Initially a rugged tomboy to plague Lujayn's weyrlinghood, the pair have developed a playful and balanced relationship. Rielsath is still a notorious scamp able to brighten the longest winter nights, lovable through her mischievous curiosity.

== Clutches ==

'''* [http://dragons.pernmu.com/clutch_listing.php?clutchid=810 Clutch 01]''' by X'lar's Bronze Malsaeth
''15 total: 2 bronze, 2 brown, 4 blue, 7 green.''
* [[K'del]] (Kasadel) and bronze [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/cadejoth/ Cadejoth]
* [[Rascela]] and brown Uanth
* [[L'rell]] (Luttrell) and brown [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/xatolaeth/ Xatolaeth]
* [[Eila]] and blue [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/kelerith/ Kelerith]
* [[Hali]] and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/sviath/ Sviath]
* [[P'ax]] (Paxim) and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/yyth/ Yyth]

'''* Clutch 02 (NPC)''' by [[E'gin]]'s Brown Vysravth
''12 total: 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green''

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Leadership]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Goldriders]]
[[category:Aurora Wing]]
[[category:Fort Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Getting familiar with history

2012-05-15T23:42:44Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Brieli, Lujayn
| where = Records Room, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Brieli is researching somewhat-old reports when Lujayn trips in and recruits her to stand for Ysavaeth's clutch.
| when = Day 13, Month 10, Turn 28 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.05.15
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Despite the lack of rainfall, the records room is busy enough - there's always paperwork to be done, and besides, the weather isn't exactly fabulous compared to the all-too-recent warmer days of summer. Harpers and scribes work diligently at the tables to the fore; to the back, one seamstress has a table to herself, just reading large dusty tomes. Brieli makes no notes or has no hides to consult against - she's just reading, dark brows drawing together into a frown of concentration. She's doing her best to look as if she's not uncomfortable here, but she's a little jumpy, as if she might be turfed out at any moment.

Lujayn, by comparison to some of the well-established readers, is just passing through today. To the possible chagrin of the meticulous librarians, the rider has taken it upon herself to return several borrowed volumes to their shelves. It takes some poking around, but after a few moments at the first shelf she moves on in Brieli's general direction, double-checking the title and index of the next book. As she passes her foot scuffs along the edge of the table with a jolt, gray eyes widening as she hastily doubles back that half-step. "Sorry!" A little too loudly. At least there's no spilled ink or strewn papers. Lowering her voice a few notches, she repeats, "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt you."

If Brieli could leap straight out of her seat, she might as Lujayn jolts the table - she shoots up straight, looking around, dark eyes wide and startled. Finally catching on to the goldrider's presence, her apologies, and the correlation between that and the table suddenly becoming mobile, the tall brunette begins to relax. Lifting a hand to her chest, the other raising a puff of dust as she drops it to the book, "Oh. Oh no, you just startled me. I guess I was just... Concentrating. I didn't notice. Please don't worry." Don't mind her freaking out.

Lujayn doesn't seem as ruffled, quick to accept Brieli's dismissal of harm done, a quick smile reassuring. "It gets pretty close in here," Eyeing the nearby shelf, running one hand along spines to find just the right spot in the alphabet for the small tome in her other hand. "Was it something interesting?" She might as well go on with the talking now that the other girl is well and truly interrupted.

"It seems to," Brieli agrees, looking around again - this time, with an eye to how much space there is, how people have to edge between the tables and shelves. Her attention shifts to Lujayn and her shelving with interest before she blinks back down to the book; with a slight, odd smile, "Interesting, I think, depends on who you are. I'm finding it so - some reporting from ten, fifteen turns ago? Just trying to get a better read on things here." There's a beat before she asks, "Is it difficult, to learn where the books should go?"

"Once you've been taking them in and out long enough, you get the hang of it," Lujayn replies with a shrug, "I usually grab the stacks leftover in the council chambers when I don't have anything else for the day. Section, name, index number if it's labeled that way. I like to think I get ''most'' of them right." Brieli's topic of choice makes the rider pause, if someone can find decade-old reports engrossing it's worth asking about. "Yeah? Did you come here recently, then? Sounds like you're brushing up on history."

Closing the book with a wrinkle of her nose for the dust, "Nice of you. If you don't get them right, do the scribes issue demerits, or something equally picky?" Brieli grins a touch, but it's perhaps notable that she didn't go saying that loud enough for any scribes to actually hear. With a nod, "I did come here recently. I thought I ought to know more about it, since the past seems rather important here, yes? I'm Brieli, ma'am." She leans forward to offer a hand across the books and table.

"I like to think I'm doing them a favor." Lujayn grins, grasping Brieli's hand briefly but firmly. "Lujayn. How are you finding High Reaches after your research? Not everyone is as studious their first time around." A warmer look, something closer to encouraging, impressed with the girl's thorough background check. "I won't be the first to admit there's plenty to read about."

"You likely are. I think some people just love to complain, so you might be doing them a favor there, too." Brieli's hand is perhaps a little rougher than the average seamstress, but her grip is firm enough and her smile is easy and friendly - though it shades a bit wry at Lujayn's last. "There's an awful lot to read about, yes. But I have to believe that any Weyr might be similar at some point or another?" She considers the question for a time before, "Complicated. Very eventful. There's been a lot to handle. I don't envy any of you that."

Lujayn takes a glance over her remaining books, a wry smile returned: "Now that you're here too, you might have to handle some of it. Or future complications. But you're right, every place has history. Even where you came from?" There's a second question in there, that Lu's not about to pull the 'oh-wait-where-did-you-say-you-were-from-again..' line. "We've had a busy ten turns, if you're really reading back that far. Exiles nonwithstanding."

The other books are all from the same period; the same ten to fifteen turns. Brieli is interested in very recent history, it seems. With that same wry little twist of mouth, she agrees, "Complications affect everyone. And I suppose with a clutch, there's that as well - I'd think past and future complications both are something of a dragonrider's responsibility." There's a moment before she'll admit to Lujayn, "I came from Crom. It really does seem that way; even without finding an island..." She gestures over the stack, all thick with history.

Something clicks together then, nothing earth-shattering or profound, but enough. "It's been a long time since that," Lujayn begins evenly, "If you're after information about Crom and the Reaches, that was mostly before I got here.." It doesn't seem like so long ago to Lu until she has to think it over, a little rueful. Then there's a chuckle, breaking the serious moment. "It's true. Life wasn't half as complicated before I was a rider. Not all bad, that. Complications make it interesting."

With a shrug, "I'm actually not all that interested in Crom. I have no ties there, really - I never liked it all that much. All I know is that the higher-ups apparently like to complain about the Weyr, which has been going on since before I was born, I think." Brieli has the grace to color a touch when she realizes what implication she might be making about Lujayn's age; with a blink, "Er. Not that I'm all that old. And yes, I suppose complications might make things interesting. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks, is the general consensus."

"Some places do," One side of Lujayn's mouth twists, as if she has anything to do with holds being upset at her Weyr. "Or at least some people, more than others. More interested in complicated matters?" She presses, catching that last. "If so, I can say you've come to the right place." Politics, dragons, all those good things.

"I'm beginning to understand that. This is all a balancing act, isn't it?" Brieli's next gesture could encompass the Weyr, the Area, the world. "Making sure this person isn't happier than that person, these people aren't more offended than those. And it's not as if Holds are without complicated matters - but I've never freely read records in any Hold either." Tilting her head to one side, "I've heard that more than once. That it's a good place to come to, that people come here to start over. Despite any initial suspicion."

Lujayn has to smile, when the alternative is just outright exasperation at the thought of a world full of malcontents. Not that High Reaches is any more insulated.. "It gets trying, especially when you've got your own opinion to contend with. But it's satisfying to be able to help." Abandoning the untouched volumes on a nearby cart, she turns her full attention back to Brieli. "Think you'd want to start over here? I mean, I obviously can't promise anything. But if standing for Impression is something you're open to, I think you'd make a good candidate." There's little actual history to Brieli's story, no hint Lu's gathered that the seamstress is looking to leave behind or forget, but she does have a point. It is a good place to make a new life.

Looking shocked, Brieli affects an offended tone. "Why, weyrwoman! When did they tell you that you could have an opinion?" With a little laugh, her holder routine dissolves, nodding to Lujayn, "I can only imagine." She's about to fold her arms over her stack of dusty tomes, but Lu's question and vote of confidence both give her pause; a flash of a unguarded expression reveals both surprise and gratitude. The seamstress takes some time to think, as is her custom - then, fingers gripping the spine of a book, "I've never made a habit of turning down opportunity. Thank you, Lujayn. I appreciate that. I'd like to try."

One to enjoy the humor of life, Lujayn doesn't let the irritated glances from nearby readers to stifle her laughter. "They didn't, not in so many words." And with Brieli's final admission, the rider positively beams. It's an exchange of unguarded expressions. "That's what I like to hear. I hope you find the opportunity you're looking for. Won't be too hard to get you set up - anything you need for that?" But there are still the books, and Lu doesn't have any particular wish to be prying the newest candidate away from her studies. "Or I could have someone come find you, later."

Brieli won't even be apologetic on Lujayn's behalf - the readers can suck it up for now, so there! Returning the smile with a bright one of her own, she glances down to the books thoughtfully. "I imagine I could just move my things after dinner - it's not as if I have much. If you want to get back to shelving. I don't know how much more reading I can do, but I feel as if I should make the attempt. Particularly if it makes me good candidate material." Lightly said, amused.

"You wouldn't think being a weyrling means more reading," Lujayn feels compelled to warn Brieli, "But somehow it does. And writing reports, when all the reading is done." Whether that makes reading a strength or if it's a warning to enjoy freedom while one can is hard to say. "That sounds like it'll work fine, no rush. Thanks for taking the time - I'll be seeing you around, Brieli. Best get these back where they belong." Picking up the books again with a slight reluctance, the rider waves a short farewell - being more careful not to kick table legs on her way out. Though if finding candidates were so easy, the records room would be a disaster.

Brieli waves farewell to Lu in return, musing over the thought of reports and reading - but cracking that book open even so, dust rising all around her. This time, it makes her roll her eyes and smile.
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Logs:Getting familiar with history

2012-05-15T23:41:31Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Brieli, Lujayn | where = Records Room, High Reaches Weyr | what = Brieli is researching somewhat-old reports when Lujayn trips in and recruits her to stand for Ysa..."

{{ Log
| who = Brieli, Lujayn
| where = Records Room, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Brieli is researching somewhat-old reports when Lujayn trips in and recruits her to stand for Ysavaeth's clutch.
| when =
| gamedate = 2012.05.15
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Despite the lack of rainfall, the records room is busy enough - there's always paperwork to be done, and besides, the weather isn't exactly fabulous compared to the all-too-recent warmer days of summer. Harpers and scribes work diligently at the tables to the fore; to the back, one seamstress has a table to herself, just reading large dusty tomes. Brieli makes no notes or has no hides to consult against - she's just reading, dark brows drawing together into a frown of concentration. She's doing her best to look as if she's not uncomfortable here, but she's a little jumpy, as if she might be turfed out at any moment.

Lujayn, by comparison to some of the well-established readers, is just passing through today. To the possible chagrin of the meticulous librarians, the rider has taken it upon herself to return several borrowed volumes to their shelves. It takes some poking around, but after a few moments at the first shelf she moves on in Brieli's general direction, double-checking the title and index of the next book. As she passes her foot scuffs along the edge of the table with a jolt, gray eyes widening as she hastily doubles back that half-step. "Sorry!" A little too loudly. At least there's no spilled ink or strewn papers. Lowering her voice a few notches, she repeats, "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt you."

If Brieli could leap straight out of her seat, she might as Lujayn jolts the table - she shoots up straight, looking around, dark eyes wide and startled. Finally catching on to the goldrider's presence, her apologies, and the correlation between that and the table suddenly becoming mobile, the tall brunette begins to relax. Lifting a hand to her chest, the other raising a puff of dust as she drops it to the book, "Oh. Oh no, you just startled me. I guess I was just... Concentrating. I didn't notice. Please don't worry." Don't mind her freaking out.

Lujayn doesn't seem as ruffled, quick to accept Brieli's dismissal of harm done, a quick smile reassuring. "It gets pretty close in here," Eyeing the nearby shelf, running one hand along spines to find just the right spot in the alphabet for the small tome in her other hand. "Was it something interesting?" She might as well go on with the talking now that the other girl is well and truly interrupted.

"It seems to," Brieli agrees, looking around again - this time, with an eye to how much space there is, how people have to edge between the tables and shelves. Her attention shifts to Lujayn and her shelving with interest before she blinks back down to the book; with a slight, odd smile, "Interesting, I think, depends on who you are. I'm finding it so - some reporting from ten, fifteen turns ago? Just trying to get a better read on things here." There's a beat before she asks, "Is it difficult, to learn where the books should go?"

"Once you've been taking them in and out long enough, you get the hang of it," Lujayn replies with a shrug, "I usually grab the stacks leftover in the council chambers when I don't have anything else for the day. Section, name, index number if it's labeled that way. I like to think I get ''most'' of them right." Brieli's topic of choice makes the rider pause, if someone can find decade-old reports engrossing it's worth asking about. "Yeah? Did you come here recently, then? Sounds like you're brushing up on history."

Closing the book with a wrinkle of her nose for the dust, "Nice of you. If you don't get them right, do the scribes issue demerits, or something equally picky?" Brieli grins a touch, but it's perhaps notable that she didn't go saying that loud enough for any scribes to actually hear. With a nod, "I did come here recently. I thought I ought to know more about it, since the past seems rather important here, yes? I'm Brieli, ma'am." She leans forward to offer a hand across the books and table.

"I like to think I'm doing them a favor." Lujayn grins, grasping Brieli's hand briefly but firmly. "Lujayn. How are you finding High Reaches after your research? Not everyone is as studious their first time around." A warmer look, something closer to encouraging, impressed with the girl's thorough background check. "I won't be the first to admit there's plenty to read about."

"You likely are. I think some people just love to complain, so you might be doing them a favor there, too." Brieli's hand is perhaps a little rougher than the average seamstress, but her grip is firm enough and her smile is easy and friendly - though it shades a bit wry at Lujayn's last. "There's an awful lot to read about, yes. But I have to believe that any Weyr might be similar at some point or another?" She considers the question for a time before, "Complicated. Very eventful. There's been a lot to handle. I don't envy any of you that."

Lujayn takes a glance over her remaining books, a wry smile returned: "Now that you're here too, you might have to handle some of it. Or future complications. But you're right, every place has history. Even where you came from?" There's a second question in there, that Lu's not about to pull the 'oh-wait-where-did-you-say-you-were-from-again..' line. "We've had a busy ten turns, if you're really reading back that far. Exiles nonwithstanding."

The other books are all from the same period; the same ten to fifteen turns. Brieli is interested in very recent history, it seems. With that same wry little twist of mouth, she agrees, "Complications affect everyone. And I suppose with a clutch, there's that as well - I'd think past and future complications both are something of a dragonrider's responsibility." There's a moment before she'll admit to Lujayn, "I came from Crom. It really does seem that way; even without finding an island..." She gestures over the stack, all thick with history.

Something clicks together then, nothing earth-shattering or profound, but enough. "It's been a long time since that," Lujayn begins evenly, "If you're after information about Crom and the Reaches, that was mostly before I got here.." It doesn't seem like so long ago to Lu until she has to think it over, a little rueful. Then there's a chuckle, breaking the serious moment. "It's true. Life wasn't half as complicated before I was a rider. Not all bad, that. Complications make it interesting."

With a shrug, "I'm actually not all that interested in Crom. I have no ties there, really - I never liked it all that much. All I know is that the higher-ups apparently like to complain about the Weyr, which has been going on since before I was born, I think." Brieli has the grace to color a touch when she realizes what implication she might be making about Lujayn's age; with a blink, "Er. Not that I'm all that old. And yes, I suppose complications might make things interesting. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks, is the general consensus."

"Some places do," One side of Lujayn's mouth twists, as if she has anything to do with holds being upset at her Weyr. "Or at least some people, more than others. More interested in complicated matters?" She presses, catching that last. "If so, I can say you've come to the right place." Politics, dragons, all those good things.

"I'm beginning to understand that. This is all a balancing act, isn't it?" Brieli's next gesture could encompass the Weyr, the Area, the world. "Making sure this person isn't happier than that person, these people aren't more offended than those. And it's not as if Holds are without complicated matters - but I've never freely read records in any Hold either." Tilting her head to one side, "I've heard that more than once. That it's a good place to come to, that people come here to start over. Despite any initial suspicion."

Lujayn has to smile, when the alternative is just outright exasperation at the thought of a world full of malcontents. Not that High Reaches is any more insulated.. "It gets trying, especially when you've got your own opinion to contend with. But it's satisfying to be able to help." Abandoning the untouched volumes on a nearby cart, she turns her full attention back to Brieli. "Think you'd want to start over here? I mean, I obviously can't promise anything. But if standing for Impression is something you're open to, I think you'd make a good candidate." There's little actual history to Brieli's story, no hint Lu's gathered that the seamstress is looking to leave behind or forget, but she does have a point. It is a good place to make a new life.

Looking shocked, Brieli affects an offended tone. "Why, weyrwoman! When did they tell you that you could have an opinion?" With a little laugh, her holder routine dissolves, nodding to Lujayn, "I can only imagine." She's about to fold her arms over her stack of dusty tomes, but Lu's question and vote of confidence both give her pause; a flash of a unguarded expression reveals both surprise and gratitude. The seamstress takes some time to think, as is her custom - then, fingers gripping the spine of a book, "I've never made a habit of turning down opportunity. Thank you, Lujayn. I appreciate that. I'd like to try."

One to enjoy the humor of life, Lujayn doesn't let the irritated glances from nearby readers to stifle her laughter. "They didn't, not in so many words." And with Brieli's final admission, the rider positively beams. It's an exchange of unguarded expressions. "That's what I like to hear. I hope you find the opportunity you're looking for. Won't be too hard to get you set up - anything you need for that?" But there are still the books, and Lu doesn't have any particular wish to be prying the newest candidate away from her studies. "Or I could have someone come find you, later."

Brieli won't even be apologetic on Lujayn's behalf - the readers can suck it up for now, so there! Returning the smile with a bright one of her own, she glances down to the books thoughtfully. "I imagine I could just move my things after dinner - it's not as if I have much. If you want to get back to shelving. I don't know how much more reading I can do, but I feel as if I should make the attempt. Particularly if it makes me good candidate material." Lightly said, amused.

"You wouldn't think being a weyrling means more reading," Lujayn feels compelled to warn Brieli, "But somehow it does. And writing reports, when all the reading is done." Whether that makes reading a strength or if it's a warning to enjoy freedom while one can is hard to say. "That sounds like it'll work fine, no rush. Thanks for taking the time - I'll be seeing you around, Brieli. Best get these back where they belong." Picking up the books again with a slight reluctance, the rider waves a short farewell - being more careful not to kick table legs on her way out. Though if finding candidates were so easy, the records room would be a disaster.

Brieli waves farewell to Lu in return, musing over the thought of reports and reading - but cracking that book open even so, dust rising all around her. This time, it makes her roll her eyes and smile.
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Logs:Gardens and Greetings

2012-04-29T15:11:21Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Toren
| where = Greenhouse, HRW
| what = Lujayn goes looking for new plants and meets Toren.
| when = Day 21, Month 8, Turn 28 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.04.29
| quote =
| weather =
The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Though not a scorching summer's day, the sun through the glass panes of the greenhouse is enough to make Lujayn fuss with the cuffs of her sleeves as she enters the humid room. The bucket slung over her arm is smeared with dried dirt and carries an assortment of similarly crusted tools. Pausing to look at one plant and then another, sometimes lifting a leaf or considering another vine at length, the rider moves along in silence but for the metallic clanking of trowels and hand rakes.

Toren comes into the greenhouse as he was able to get a pot and a couple of seeds. He moves right over to it as it's painted harper blue and he gets out the watering can. He moves over towards the water to fill it up and he nods to Lujayn, "Hello there." The young harper says with a smile as he starts to lug the water can over to the pot.

Lujayn pauses in her consideration of a burgeoning tropical plant, glancing over one shoulder to watch Toren at his work. Unfamiliar, she asks- "Are you a gardener here? Do you think this one," Gesturing again to the attractively green flora, "Might make it outside of the greenhouse?" Searching to restock a small personal garden, perhaps indoors; a few packets of seeds can be seen as she sets down the bucket and rifles through tools. "Nothing harsh. Lots of steam from the bath."

Toren shrugs a little bit, "I don't know. I'm just a harper, I have my own pot here because I'm growing a flower for my mother. I don't have much marks so most of it went to the pot and the seeds." He pours the water into the pot and he smiles, "That should do it...I think." He sets the half full watering can down, "It looks pretty tropical I don't think it could survive though."

Toren shrugs a little bit, "I don't know. I'm just a harper, I have my own pot here because I'm growing a flower for my mother. I don't have much marks so most of it went to the pot and the seeds." He pours the water into the pot and he smiles, "That should do it...I think." He sets the half full watering can down, "It looks pretty tropical I don't think it could survive though."

"That's sweet of you," Easygoing with new acquaintances, Lujayn reconsiders at long last and plucks a small trowel from her bucket, tracing a neat square in the soil around the plant. Maybe her request was just out of politeness. "I have some similar to this. They really bring color, especially when the seasons change and everything outside is so gray." Sitting back on her heels, she turns again rather than speaking down at the leaves. "A harper, huh? New?" Thus his brightly-colored pot, perhaps. "I'm Lujayn."

Toren smiles, "It's nice to meet you Lujayn I'm Toren, pretty nice I came with my parents they are both harpers, and I'm there apprentice, which I am told is rough on me at least by the riders. Yah I would like to get her something to brighten up everything in the rooms."

Lujayn nods thoughtfully as she takes in Toren's explanation, carefully moving a heap of tangled roots from the trough to the bucket at her side, tools and packets scattered around haphazardly on the floor to make room. "You'd learn more that way, coming from family tradition," She decides at last, wiping moist earth off her hands onto smudged breeches. "I borrow from the plants themselves sometimes; I find the staff don't mind so much as long as I try to replace what I took." Wiping a blonde lock from her eyes, Lu stretches for one of the discarded seed packets and carefully tips a few into the conical depression left behind by her new plant. "I don't often have much time to look after fragile baby plants. This is easier, and I find I kill less of them." A wry grin at her own expense lights up her face. "I'm sure your mother will like her flowers very much. Did you all come from the Harper Hall?"

Toren nods, "I have learned a lot from both of them, both about music and about life and being here is really different from harper hall." He kneels down to reposition the pot just right so it gets the most sunlight. "Yes we all come from Harper Hall, although my mother was originally from a hold and came to the Hall to study music where she met my father. Family is very important for her so she asked the masters to keep us all together."

Lujayn smooths fresh soil over the place where the seeds fell, stepping back to admire the handiwork. "Think I could borrow that?" Glancing to the watering can. "That's lucky, too, that you're all together." This seems to spark something more distant in her voice, reaching absently for the can and thinking out loud- "It's nice when family is around." Clearing her throat and coming back to the task at hand, she continues in the same friendly vein, "At least there's plenty to do here, not just studying and music. Do you like it so far?"

Toren smiles, "Sure." He picks it up and gives it to Lujayn, "Yah it was a bit rough at first adjusting to being away from the Hall and at the Weyr, but I'm getting used to it. I love to play for a new crowd of people and I get lots of practice and met a lot of people, which is always fun to do."

Showering the trough carefully, Lujayn takes the opportunity to rinse one grimy hand before collecting her gardening equipment at her feet. "Maybe I'll catch you in the Snowasis sometime, if you play there. I should take this one back," Indicating the plant, "Before it gets too late. I wanted to take my daughter out to the lake shore today, since it's so nice. Have a basket lunch." She smiles and offers her least dirty hand for Toren to shake. "Nice meeting you, too. Good luck with your flower."

Toren smiles, "Sure I do play there sometime." He looks at the flower, "That's a good one and it's a nice down out to go to the lake." He takes the dirty hand and he shakes it, "It was nice to meet you too Lujayn. Thanks I think I'll need it."

"Any time." Lujayn waves as she goes out the door, snatching a discarded sun hat from its peg near the exit, an armful of plant and metal tooling all the way back to her weyr - not to mention the satisfied smile on her face.

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Logs:Gardens and Greetings

2012-04-29T15:10:24Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Toren | where = Greenhouse, HRW | what = Lujayn goes looking for new plants and meets Toren. | when = Day 21, Month 8, Turn 28 of Interval 10 | gamedate = ..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Toren
| where = Greenhouse, HRW
| what = Lujayn goes looking for new plants and meets Toren.
| when = Day 21, Month 8, Turn 28 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.04.29
| quote =
| weather = The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across
the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to
make for a fine day.
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Though not a scorching summer's day, the sun through the glass panes of the greenhouse is enough to make Lujayn fuss with the cuffs of her sleeves as she enters the humid room. The bucket slung over her arm is smeared with dried dirt and carries an assortment of similarly crusted tools. Pausing to look at one plant and then another, sometimes lifting a leaf or considering another vine at length, the rider moves along in silence but for the metallic clanking of trowels and hand rakes.

Toren comes into the greenhouse as he was able to get a pot and a couple of seeds. He moves right over to it as it's painted harper blue and he gets out the watering can. He moves over towards the water to fill it up and he nods to Lujayn, "Hello there." The young harper says with a smile as he starts to lug the water can over to the pot.

Lujayn pauses in her consideration of a burgeoning tropical plant, glancing over one shoulder to watch Toren at his work. Unfamiliar, she asks- "Are you a gardener here? Do you think this one," Gesturing again to the attractively green flora, "Might make it outside of the greenhouse?" Searching to restock a small personal garden, perhaps indoors; a few packets of seeds can be seen as she sets down the bucket and rifles through tools. "Nothing harsh. Lots of steam from the bath."

Toren shrugs a little bit, "I don't know. I'm just a harper, I have my own pot here because I'm growing a flower for my mother. I don't have much marks so most of it went to the pot and the seeds." He pours the water into the pot and he smiles, "That should do it...I think." He sets the half full watering can down, "It looks pretty tropical I don't think it could survive though."

Toren shrugs a little bit, "I don't know. I'm just a harper, I have my own pot here because I'm growing a flower for my mother. I don't have much marks so most of it went to the pot and the seeds." He pours the water into the pot and he smiles, "That should do it...I think." He sets the half full watering can down, "It looks pretty tropical I don't think it could survive though."

"That's sweet of you," Easygoing with new acquaintances, Lujayn reconsiders at long last and plucks a small trowel from her bucket, tracing a neat square in the soil around the plant. Maybe her request was just out of politeness. "I have some similar to this. They really bring color, especially when the seasons change and everything outside is so gray." Sitting back on her heels, she turns again rather than speaking down at the leaves. "A harper, huh? New?" Thus his brightly-colored pot, perhaps. "I'm Lujayn."

Toren smiles, "It's nice to meet you Lujayn I'm Toren, pretty nice I came with my parents they are both harpers, and I'm there apprentice, which I am told is rough on me at least by the riders. Yah I would like to get her something to brighten up everything in the rooms."

Lujayn nods thoughtfully as she takes in Toren's explanation, carefully moving a heap of tangled roots from the trough to the bucket at her side, tools and packets scattered around haphazardly on the floor to make room. "You'd learn more that way, coming from family tradition," She decides at last, wiping moist earth off her hands onto smudged breeches. "I borrow from the plants themselves sometimes; I find the staff don't mind so much as long as I try to replace what I took." Wiping a blonde lock from her eyes, Lu stretches for one of the discarded seed packets and carefully tips a few into the conical depression left behind by her new plant. "I don't often have much time to look after fragile baby plants. This is easier, and I find I kill less of them." A wry grin at her own expense lights up her face. "I'm sure your mother will like her flowers very much. Did you all come from the Harper Hall?"

Toren nods, "I have learned a lot from both of them, both about music and about life and being here is really different from harper hall." He kneels down to reposition the pot just right so it gets the most sunlight. "Yes we all come from Harper Hall, although my mother was originally from a hold and came to the Hall to study music where she met my father. Family is very important for her so she asked the masters to keep us all together."

Lujayn smooths fresh soil over the place where the seeds fell, stepping back to admire the handiwork. "Think I could borrow that?" Glancing to the watering can. "That's lucky, too, that you're all together." This seems to spark something more distant in her voice, reaching absently for the can and thinking out loud- "It's nice when family is around." Clearing her throat and coming back to the task at hand, she continues in the same friendly vein, "At least there's plenty to do here, not just studying and music. Do you like it so far?"

Toren smiles, "Sure." He picks it up and gives it to Lujayn, "Yah it was a bit rough at first adjusting to being away from the Hall and at the Weyr, but I'm getting used to it. I love to play for a new crowd of people and I get lots of practice and met a lot of people, which is always fun to do."

Showering the trough carefully, Lujayn takes the opportunity to rinse one grimy hand before collecting her gardening equipment at her feet. "Maybe I'll catch you in the Snowasis sometime, if you play there. I should take this one back," Indicating the plant, "Before it gets too late. I wanted to take my daughter out to the lake shore today, since it's so nice. Have a basket lunch." She smiles and offers her least dirty hand for Toren to shake. "Nice meeting you, too. Good luck with your flower."

Toren smiles, "Sure I do play there sometime." He looks at the flower, "That's a good one and it's a nice down out to go to the lake." He takes the dirty hand and he shakes it, "It was nice to meet you too Lujayn. Thanks I think I'll need it."

"Any time." Lujayn waves as she goes out the door, snatching a discarded sun hat from its peg near the exit, an armful of plant and metal tooling all the way back to her weyr - not to mention the satisfied smile on her face.

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Lujayn

2012-01-13T21:28:18Z

Lujayn:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Lujayn.jpg|Lujayn
|name=Lujayn
|position=Junior Weyrwoman (Aurora Wing)
|dragon=Sun in Winter Gold [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch27/rielsath/ Rielsath]
|birthplace=Fort Weyr
|mother=Jaia, Greenrider
|father=E'tyn, Brownrider
|siblings=Vague half-siblings.
* E'tan (Ethian) and blue Pwylth, from Iovniath x Cadejoth #3)
|children=None disclosed.
|friends=Many. Clutchmates, notably [[Leova]] and [[E'dre]]; P'draig, [[Emme]]
|craft=Runnercraft
|playedby=Mia Wasikowska
|livejournal= [http://alchemy_l.livejournal.com alchemy_l]
}}

== Description ==

* A tall, lanky woman with a spirited air. Her round face is set with curious gray eyes framed by long lashes, a stubborn mouth often smiling over her dimpled chin. Lu's tawny hair, lightened from hours in the sun, reaches past her shoulders, an untamed and flaglike mane of waves and curls. She moves quickly with practiced sure-footedness, eager to show what she knows and all that she's able to do. Her height is just about 5' 8", accentuating a willowy frame without much notable curve. Her clothes are notably practical but colorful, a few more exotic pieces sneaking into her wardrobe for rare times she doesn't run the risk of getting dirty.

== WYSK ==

* Personable, curious and quick to smile, Lu is a notable contrast to the two frostier goldriders of High Reaches.

* A Fort Weyr native, her athletic bent is lifelong: she started early as a runner between Weyr, Hold and Halls.

* Searched by Reachian Emilly's green Sionath, she Impressed the Sun in Winter Gold Rielsath from Teonath and Wyaeth's clutch at age sixteen (Day 31, Month 8, Turn 15).

* Old enough to have experienced and fought in the Comet Pass.

== History ==

* Born in Fort Weyr, raised to eventually become a message-carrier and accomplished runner, making many friends in the area and in other Halls and Weyrs she visited.

* Lujayn experienced several different environments at a young age, standing for clutches at her Fortian home, Telgar (alongside longtime Weyrleader T'rev, and ultimately High Reaches Weyr.

* Lu and Rielsath transferred to Igen during Turn 20 in exchange for Ezalea and Nahalith, a stay that turned out to be much more lengthy than predicted despite the other goldrider's premature departure.

* She was reknotted as a Jr. Weyrwoman of High Reaches in month 4 of Turn 25, marking her official return. Not long after, Lu was part of the trio of riders to discover the exiles' island (including [[Z'yi]] and [[Taikrin]].

== Rielsath ==

* Streamlined in lean athleticism, brilliant sunfire hide stretches thin across her fine, swift form, the blinding gold of light melting a once-frozen landscape. Winter clings to her sleek underbelly and the tops of her paws in mottled shades of white-gold and heated amber, unable to remain consistent as the sun's bold reach claims her hide. Appearing like glistening dewdrops, melted snow graces the very tips of her sharpened neckridges, their lethal descent traveling the length of her long back, past the outjuts of delicately sculpted wings, to smooth and trail off at her double-pronged, playful tail. Long, thin wingspars, wrapped in near-sheer hide, open to reveal buoyant frosted sails that appear as if they could unfurl further but are instead held close, swept back aerodynamically and meant for airspeed. Incongruously wizened ridges arc over her inquisitive eyes, prominent fixtures on an otherwise slim, youthful, and innocent face.

* Initially a rugged tomboy to plague Lujayn's weyrlinghood, the pair have developed a playful and balanced relationship. Rielsath is still a notorious scamp able to brighten the longest winter nights, lovable through her mischievous curiosity.

== Clutches ==

'''* [http://dragons.pernmu.com/clutch_listing.php?clutchid=810 Clutch 01]''' by X'lar's Bronze Malsaeth
''15 total: 2 bronze, 2 brown, 4 blue, 7 green.''
* [[K'del]] (Kasadel) and bronze [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/cadejoth/ Cadejoth]
* [[Rascela]] and brown Uanth
* [[L'rell]] (Luttrell) and brown [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/xatolaeth/ Xatolaeth]
* [[Eila]] and blue [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/kelerith/ Kelerith]
* [[Hali]] and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/sviath/ Sviath]
* [[P'ax]] (Paxim) and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/yyth/ Yyth]

'''* Clutch 02 (NPC)''' by [[E'gin]]'s Brown Vysravth
''12 total: 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green''

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Leadership]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Goldriders]]
[[category:Aurora Wing]]
[[category:Fort Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Rielsath and Vysravth's Clutch Hatches

2012-01-07T20:21:19Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = | where = High Reaches Weyr | what = The results of Rielsath's clutch. | when = Day 18, Month 9, Turn 27 of Interval 10. | gamedate = 2012.01.07 | quote = | wea..."

{{ Log
| who =
| where = High Reaches Weyr
| what = The results of Rielsath's clutch.
| when = Day 18, Month 9, Turn 27 of Interval 10.
| gamedate = 2012.01.07
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

It was a chilly autumn night that brought the Candidates inside, but a sudden humming and cracking of eggs that drew them towards the hatching sands to face Rielsath and Vysravth's offspring towards evening of day 18, month 9, turn 27. Among the newly-shelled were two bronze, two brown, three blue and five green dragonets, each healthy and settling into the barracks for the rest of the night.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} | }}

}}

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Lujayn

2011-12-11T19:04:52Z

Lujayn:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Lujayn.jpg|Lujayn
|name=Lujayn
|position=Junior Weyrwoman (Aurora Wing)
|dragon=Sun in Winter Gold [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch27/rielsath/ Rielsath]
|birthplace=Fort Weyr
|mother=Jaia, Greenrider
|father=E'tyn, Brownrider
|siblings=Vague half-siblings.
* E'tan (Ethian) and blue Pwylth, from Iovniath x Cadejoth #3)
|children=None disclosed.
|friends=Many. Clutchmates, notably [[Leova]] and [[E'dre]]; P'draig, [[Emme]]
|craft=Runnercraft
|playedby=Mia Wasikowska
|livejournal= [http://alchemy_l.livejournal.com alchemy_l]
}}

== Description ==

* A tall, lanky woman with a spirited air. Her round face is set with curious gray eyes framed by long lashes, a stubborn mouth often smiling over her dimpled chin. Lu's tawny hair, lightened from hours in the sun, reaches past her shoulders, an untamed and flaglike mane of waves and curls. She moves quickly with practiced sure-footedness, eager to show what she knows and all that she's able to do. Her height is just about 5' 8", accentuating a willowy frame without much notable curve. Her clothes are notably practical but colorful, a few more exotic pieces sneaking into her wardrobe for rare times she doesn't run the risk of getting dirty.

== WYSK ==

* Personable, curious and quick to smile, Lu is a notable contrast to the two frostier goldriders of High Reaches.

* A Fort Weyr native, her athletic bent is lifelong: she started early as a runner between Weyr, Hold and Halls.

* Searched by Reachian Emilly's green Sionath, she Impressed the Sun in Winter Gold Rielsath from Teonath and Wyaeth's clutch at age sixteen (Day 31, Month 8, Turn 15).

* Old enough to have experienced and fought in the Comet Pass.

== History ==

* Born in Fort Weyr, raised to eventually become a message-carrier and accomplished runner, making many friends in the area and in other Halls and Weyrs she visited.

* Lujayn experienced several different environments at a young age, standing for clutches at her Fortian home, Telgar (alongside longtime Weyrleader T'rev, and ultimately High Reaches Weyr.

* Lu and Rielsath transferred to Igen during Turn 20 in exchange for Ezalea and Nahalith, a stay that turned out to be much more lengthy than predicted despite the other goldrider's premature departure.

* She was reknotted as a Jr. Weyrwoman of High Reaches in month 4 of Turn 25, marking her official return. Not long after, Lu was part of the trio of riders to discover the exiles' island (including [[Z'yi]] and [[Taikrin]].

== Rielsath ==

* Streamlined in lean athleticism, brilliant sunfire hide stretches thin across her fine, swift form, the blinding gold of light melting a once-frozen landscape. Winter clings to her sleek underbelly and the tops of her paws in mottled shades of white-gold and heated amber, unable to remain consistent as the sun's bold reach claims her hide. Appearing like glistening dewdrops, melted snow graces the very tips of her sharpened neckridges, their lethal descent traveling the length of her long back, past the outjuts of delicately sculpted wings, to smooth and trail off at her double-pronged, playful tail. Long, thin wingspars, wrapped in near-sheer hide, open to reveal buoyant frosted sails that appear as if they could unfurl further but are instead held close, swept back aerodynamically and meant for airspeed. Incongruously wizened ridges arc over her inquisitive eyes, prominent fixtures on an otherwise slim, youthful, and innocent face.

* Initially a rugged tomboy to plague Lujayn's weyrlinghood, the pair have developed a playful and balanced relationship. Rielsath is still a notorious scamp able to brighten the longest winter nights, lovable through her mischievous curiosity.

== Clutches ==

'''* [http://dragons.pernmu.com/clutch_listing.php?clutchid=810 Clutch 01]''' by X'lar's Bronze Malsaeth
''15 total: 2 bronze, 2 brown, 4 blue, 7 green.''
* [[K'del]] (Kasadel) and bronze [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/cadejoth/ Cadejoth]
* [[Rascela]] and brown Uanth
* [[L'rell]] (Luttrell) and brown [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/xatolaeth/ Xatolaeth]
* [[Eila]] and blue [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/kelerith/ Kelerith]
* [[Hali]] and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/sviath/ Sviath]
* [[P'ax]] (Paxim) and green [http://hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch28/yyth/ Yyth]

'''* Clutch 02 (NPC)''' by [[E'gin]]'s Brown Vysravth
''12 total''

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Leadership]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Goldriders]]
[[category:Aurora Wing]]
[[category:Fort Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Star Stones Secrets

2011-12-04T19:34:10Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = E'gin, Lujayn
| where = Star Stones, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Rielsath calls Vysravth and E'gin down from the skies and gives them a not-so-puzzling puzzle. Lujayn avoids.
| when = day 25, month 5, turn 27
| gamedate = 2011.12.03
| quote =
| weather = A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but
there is no rainfall today.
| categories = islanders
| mentions = K'del, E'dre
| icons =
| log =

Bugles muted by the fog and clouds obscuring the High Reaches sky, dragons come and go in the morning bustle. Rielsath may be showing some signs of widening around the middle, but she's still perfectly able to fly up to the Star Stones for a turn at watch duty. Watching the moon fade away as the sun brightens behind the veil, her mind reaches out. << You should come, >> She breathes warm life to Vysravth, the calling of dawn to a dark mind.

When Rielsath's call comes E'gin and Vysravth are just returning from sweeps. They seem set on flying back to their ledge, but the gold's warm calling makes the pair bank steeply. E'gin dismounts after the brown lands on the Star Stones. "The view is nice," Is E'gin's greeting, "How are you two?" Unbuckling his riding helmet he tucks it under his arm. "How long have you guys been at it?" Vysravth studies the queen, and noticing her widening belly with some curiosity, his aloofness seems to lift slightly, and he settles down closer to her than usual, << Howyoudoin? >> His rough voice sluring the words together.

<< It's early, >> Rielsath's lines of light waver with a mental yawn, fading to a more comfortable twilight, stars taking their place in her night sky. << You tired? >> Lujayn is casually arranged, less stiff than many a fresh watchrider. "Not that long. But long enough," She raises her hand in greeting, not quite surprised to see the brown pair touch down nearby. "Rielsath's been antsy, wanting to hare off after any old thing." Patting the gold neck fondly, gaze distant. "Vysravth's been good, she says.." A pause, but she doesn't hold back the pertinent question: "Did you ever talk to K'del?"

Vysravth seems more comfortable when the mental sky fades to twilight, he adds only a whispy fog, which allows the light of the stars to bleed through, << Yes, we have been taking as many sweeps as possible, drills, shadowing, and E'gin stays up later doing other things. >> If what the dragon says is true, his rider shows no signs of being tired."Sorry, if we're intruding, Rielsath invited him..." The grin which crosses the boys face shows he's happy to be doing something other than work, pulling off his gloves a finger at a time. Half-way through plucking off his second glove he stops at her question. His face pulls into anger, frustration, or some other like emotion, but it is only a flicker before E'gin recovers. "Yes, didn't go so well. Strange too, he seemed...more on edge than usual." Of course, both normally rather laid back men were.

Lujayn shakes her head, "Rielsath's invitation is my invitation." She assures E'gin, listening with a concerned expression to his explanation of the meeting with K'del. "Weyrleader's a tough job. I'm sorry you didn't hear what you were hoping for." Lu doesn't press the issue; she hasn't spoken to the Weyrleader herself, unlike the situation with Giorda. "You guys are almost done, though. That has to be a good feeling." On the brighter side of the coin, she appeals to a bright horizon. Rielsath lets the fog wrap the starry sky, adding tints of blue and green to light it like a fading aurora. << I wouldn't have guessed. Your work ''has'' to pay off. Lujayn sees you do so much, and she feels guilty. >>

"Yes, it is." E'gin's lips thin, "I am sure he has a lot to deal with." But it is clearly an issue he wants to deal with on his own and he lets it go as eaily as Lujayn. "Yes, we are!" There is excitement twinged with nervousness, a normal emotion for a senior weyrling. "We will all be split up then, do people and dragons generally stay close to their clutchmates?" Not that E'gin is particularly close to any of them. "When do they start pulling people, not till after graduation?"

"I'm close with most of my clutchmates still, and it's been over a decade," Lujayn is happy to offer her experience for E'gin to look forward to. "Even those who have moved on to other Weyrs. Mostly E'dre and Leova, but two out of fifteen or so isn't bad." She looks over the bowl below, letting the excitement wash over her much more easily than her earlier hesitation. "You could be earmarked for a wing if they really want you, but typically they won't tap graduating Weyrlings until a few days before - or after, sometimes - the thing is done." Her smile is knowing, and a tad impish. "Won't be a ''huge'' change. I mean, you already have your own weyrs. Moving out of the barracks was one of the hardest changes."

"E'dre..." E'gin ponders for a moment, "And Wroth right? They went to Fort?" The hand of his occupied arm taps a soft beat as he thinks, jamming the other hand and his gloves into a pocket, "I'm just tried of waiting, I want to /know/..I want...I'm just ready for what's next, whatever it is." He turns to Lujayn, allowing a little gleam of excitement to show through his normally hard to read face. "There's a future here, we're ready to take it." Vysravth, after some quiet basking in their night sky finally answers the gold, << She should not feel guilty. We work hard because we want to. We must be ready for anything - for everything. >> Whatever the world throws at them.

Lujayn nods. "Yeah. We were just out there the other day, making the most of our free time. Right, Ri?" She earns a somewhat sleepy grumble from the distracted gold, whose neck is coiled around to face Vysravth instead of the departing wings flying sweeps. "It's good to prepare for the future," She agrees with some reservation, "But someone reminded me that living in the now is important, too. Because whatever's coming.. it'll always keep coming. Try taking the present. Maybe just today." << Anything and everything? There are too many possibilities. You could end up in Ista to fly ocean rescues, >> Letting her imagination stretch, the starry twilight boundless, << Or to the east, preparing a new Weyr. Tilling fields with your claws for the farmers. There are too many things waiting in life to know them all. >>

"We do enjoy the moment, sometimes, but we enjoy the planning it is where we find our...joy?" E'gin grin's easily again, "Yes, today, which is why I came with Vysravth. Let us get out of our heads for a while." He steps over towards the edge of the star stones, taking in the view of drills, and dragons coming and going on business, and even further down the dots of people scurrying around on business, before turning back to Lujayn with a smile, "What do you two do for fun?" Vysravth voice rumbles softly, perhaps with a bit of frustration, << Of course not everything... >> Something causes Vysravth to darken the nights stars, the fog thickening between the two dragons' thoughts, but a look between dragon and rider and the whatever it is that was bothered him vanishes, << The more you are ready for the easy you can deal with surprises. >>

Rielsath's mind comes along with Lujayn's words, sharing images and sensations with Vysravth as her rider speaks. "Flying. High, fast, far." Wind, sun, clouds. Blinding bright and blurry. The woman smiles at the thought and her dragon shifts uneasily underneath her, as if itching for that activity right ''now.'' "Going to new places." Images of jungles with ocean on the horizon, vast deserts, tall mountains and blizzards. "Exploring." But every memory has a common thread, and that is Together. Whether just dragon and rider or with other people, they are never completely alone. << True. Sometimes easy can be boring! >> Rielsath reins in her bent for friendly argument, more and more belligerent with the days counting down. << Do you like difficult things better than exciting things? >>

E'gin allows himself to share the view with the dragon, his eyes refocusing to nod at Lujayn, "High, fast and far is good." His eyes slide over the gold with a grin, "Clutches must be hard on you then." He address the gold directly with a touch of sympathy, before turning back to her rider, "Together," the boy confirms with a solemn nod. "We like to work through things, think about them - and do them." Vysravth's words echo is rider's, << We would rather work through a problem. How can we make higher, faster, better? What else needs to be done. >> The brown allows a brief glimpse of the ancient machine, turning gears, which runs his mind, but it fades quickly beneath the blanket of the stars, << Sometimes we do like excitement too. >>

Rielsath turns her slender face to look straight at E'gin, pleased to be addressed instead of talked over - as if she didn't have her own conversation going on with the rider's brown just now. << That ''does'' sound exciting. >> Rielsath has to admit, mind stretching for another glimpse of the slowly turning machine, that patience she does not always possess, before it vanishes. Another time. << When you are a full rider, you can have exciting more easily. You'll like it. >> Lujayn has to agree with her dragon, though she isn't eavesdropping fully. "Sounds like we could take a page from your book. I spend time in the present, but the future is different. The unknown. It's a little frightening."

"Frightening, perhaps, but exciting and full of potential. I know what is happening now, what is happening then..." E'gin, has almost forgotten that the other rider is there, perhaps that is why she has gotten in, "That is where excitement is, figuring out the future, and where we fit into it." Snapping back to reality, E'gin turns to the goldrider, "But this is nice too." A soft smile to one of the few people who is genuinely friendly to him. Vysravth's tail wraps around his haunches, << Really? It seems there will be less excitement, less to do... >>

Lujayn listens quietly, letting E'gin string his thoughts out with an appreciative, quiet air. "It's a balance." She stretches a bit, beginning to gather her flight leathers from where they're draped over Rielsath's neck, outfitting herself with deft fingers as the line of another sunrise moves across the bowl. "Thanks for stopping. One thing's for sure, I won't miss ''this'' on the sands." She smiles before buckling the helmet tight, voice muffled in farewell. << I wanted to show you something. >> It's time for them to go, and Lujayn isn't speaking up fast enough for the ice-patterned gold. So she does what she does best: show and tell. To Vysravth, she projects the alien sensation of something different, what eggs must feel like before they are laid, only different. Smaller. Tracing the source of the feeling back to Lujayn, she lets the images linger for a moment before they fade, Lujayn urging her into a favorite steep dive from the Star Stones in the direction of home. It's an escape, if only a temporary one. << There are many things we haven't done. >>

The gold and rider leave so quickly that E'gin really only has time to wave after them. Then Vysravth share's the vision with his rider and the boy's hand drops to his side. Eyebrows pulling together, the male and his brown are left standing there, motionless, simply staring after the departed pair. "Huh...?" Belated, and unintelligible it is all that E'gin has to offer.

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Logs:Dragons Dine at Dawn

2011-12-04T19:33:59Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Kh'ry, Lujayn
| where = Feeding Grounds, High Reaches
| what = Kh'ry and Lu watch Rielsath's breakfast and chat about weyrling dragons. Temrianth asks lots of questions.
| when = Day 2, Month 8, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.24
| quote = Release the cows!
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons = Lujayn, Kh'ry
| log =

It's early yet, the first rays of dawn breaking across the bowl and casting dark shadows where the cliff hangs over the feeding grounds. Warmth is already apparent in the summer air with a delicious lack of humidity; a light jacket has been draped casually on one fencepost, the goldrider to whom it belongs standing not far away. Lujayn turns her face to the sunlight with a happy sigh, orange and crimson beams giving the pen a surreal appearance. Her head tips back to somewhere high above, where doubtless there's a dragon or two circling in anticipation of a morning meal. Rielsath descends in an impatient circling motion, huffing loudly with a little querulous bugle at the end. Aren't the lazy herders up yet? Release the cows!

Weyrling PT has just finished, for most: bronze Temrianth and his Kh'ry have been allowed another lap around the bowl, however, to cool off. The pair meander towards the feeding pens, in some type of morning ritual -- no doubt Temrianth is sceming already on the perfect way to hunt, and this observation proves vital to his theorymongering. Kh'ry is just along because who /knows/ what kind of trouble Temrianth could get into on his own, right? The growing dragonet settles next to Lujayn, his shoulders nearly as high as her head, now: with his wings folded back, they almost completely obscure Lujayn from Kh'ry's sight, so the weyrling obligingly ducks under Temrianth's neck to stand on the 'near' side of the goldrider. "Morning," he offers, his voice still perhaps partially groggy from sleep and disuse. He squints to Rielsath. "Reckon she's hungry?" His smile half-falters as it would appear Temrianth takes him seriously and natters on about all the reasons why she /does/, in fact, look hungry.

Eventually there's some motion at the far end of the pen, a couple young men fresh from the stables by the looks of their clothes. They unlatch the first gate and prod a few milling beasts out into the greater area of the feeding grounds. Rielsath warns away a smaller blue with one grumpy hiss, rising higher as her circles become smaller and smaller, the picky vulture. Lu's head follows the gold's motions in a comical, tired manner, apparently still waking up herself. "Oh. Hello, Temrianth." She says without much thought before giving a double-take. "/Kh'ry/. He's gotten so big! Good morning." Everyone's just waking up, everyone but Rielsath - who's being awfully picky today. "Yeah, she wanted to get here first thing before anyone else had a chance. When they're hungry they are /hungry./" Lu's preaching to the choir. "Though she sure is taking her sharding time about it for all that fuss of being first in line."

Dragon> Sensing her rider's shift in attention, Rielsath's mind searches out the source and eventually lands on Temrianth, her mind bringing the same bloody crimson rays of dawn that warm the bowl. Or maybe that's her stomach talking. << Did you come to hunt? You're a little small for that. >> The gold says regretfully. << It would be fun, though, if they let you have a herd of wherries to chase after! >> (Rielsath to Temrianth)

"Mornin'," Kh'ry replies, a pleased smile for the perceived compliment. "I know how that feels. Tem'll bitch and bitch about being hungry, and then when we finally get to the carcasses, he takes forever to pick one." Temrianth seems oblivious to the fact that this is a bad thing, craning his head to get a better view of Rielsath's technique. Something causes his eyes to whirl suddenly /much/ faster, however, and a little creel starts to whine out of his throat, much like a big canine who's being taunted by his owner chewing on a chicken-leg right in front of him. Kh'ry's palm meets his face. "Today's going to be a long day," comes out somewhat muffled.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Temrianth is a vivid storm: crashing waves, rising tides, a sandy beach stripped of all vegetation, raked clear of any large stones. The bloody light cast into the sheeting rainfall of his 'scape creates a hellish mix, a Faustian scene as rains slowly cease and steam rises from the too-hot shores. Obviously, this idea has Temrianth all /kinds/ of worked up: << Oh, do you think I could convince them? That would be an excellent way for Amareth and I to hone our hunting skills! >>

Lujayn's eyes flick suspiciously to the queen above, "Stop it," She hisses, the mental words spoken as much for Kh'ry's benefit as to actually reprimand the teasing gold. She chuckles knowingly at the weyrling's explanation. "Pickiness means he won't glut himself on rotted meat, at least." Though in older dragons it's just a pain in the ass. Rielsath takes a passing swipe at one sedentary beast, startling the thing into a gallop away from her. /Then/ the chase is on. Successfully having riled the pen's occupants, the huntress goes about harassing the herds, the thrill of the chase more rewarding than the kill itself. "They're all long," Lu sympathizes, looking between Temrianth and Kh'ry with some amusement. "I hear he's quite the curious one."

Dragon> Waves are met with more sunlight, sparks flaring up where the crashing waves meet the shore. Rielsath is hunting in earnest now, a speeding mind over the coastline reflecting that inner thrill of pursuit. She doesn't mind hell, at least this version. On the prowl, nothing can divert her. << Soon, they will have you practice. >> There's no time attached to 'soon,' though the vague images she shares depict dragonets not yet ready to fly properly. << Do you practice now, on anything else? It's good to be prepared; you can show everyone else how good you are on your very first day. >> Veering off over the stormy waters towards the scarlet eastern light, Rielsath dives low in this surreal landscape. Time for the first strike. (Rielsath to Temrianth)

Kh'ry watches Rielsath with some amount of mixed emotion, obviously not one for the thrill of the hunt himself. What? It looks like she's playing giant golden terrorist on a bunch of poor cows, to this Islander; though Temrianth seems to be quite enjoying it by the way the bronze pushes himself up against the fenceline, looking all the world like a puppy with his face plastered against the glass window. PICK ME! PICK ME! "He's... yeah. Enough to drive me stormin' crazy, most days. At least he's stopped talking in his sleep." Zombie!Kh'ry is no more, at least. Or at least only comes out at certain times. "She seems to be enjoying herself," he ventures about Rielsath. "She always do this?"

Lujayn grins. "It's something you get used to," In reference to Rielsath's circling and terrorizing, not the sleeptalking. "Some go straight for the kill, some like getting messy, but for her it's about the chase. I swear she'd have made a good bronze. Doesn't do much girly stuff." Maybe taking just a smidge more time than she usually might on account of her audience, Rielsath flares her wings back and swoops with a sudden motion, no bugling or roaring to accompany the attack. It's over in two seconds, the thump of talons sinking into flesh, the bellow of the chosen beast cut off sharply as the dragon twists her prey's neck savagely, dropping low to the ground with those pale wings mantled protectively about the kill. Only then do the smaller dragons descend, much more quickly and noisily; Ri pays them no mind as she gets down to bloody breakfast. "It's kinda cute, in a way," The bloody mess or Temrianth? "I kept a journal while I was a weyrling. Reading it is a hoot, all the things that bothered me or the things she used to do and then grew out of." Weyrlings: cute, as evidenced by her frequent glances to Temrianth's eager face.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Temrianth seems entirely enthralled by the sparks and the drive and the hunting spirit which Rielsath embodies. << Sometimes I chase the canines around the barn! >> His mental image is quite comical, that he projects in vivid depiction: one poor herding canine, fluffy tail tucked 'tween it's hind legs, scampering around a corner at full tilt to escape the stampeding weyrling bronze. << Until Kh'ry makes me stop. >> He doesn't quite understand why, it's obvious; the canine receives good exercise from it, and it's not like Temrianth would actually *hurt* the critter, and he's learned how to handle corners so much better than when he was a baby! Since he's all grown up, now. Or at least he perceives himself to be, now. << You are very good at this. >> Only a bit of wistful emotion twines through his words, a spring shower slowly soaking the shore.

Dragon> Absorbed in her kill, the next wave to wash ashore stains the sands dark with blood. Less distracted by the hunt itself and more protective of what she's managed to take for herself, Rielsath perks up. << Oh? Canines would not be good to eat, though. They are too thin. >> She decides, letting some emotion of her own seep through in the bloody red sea: content, accomplishment, possession. Hers. << Like firelizards. Smaller things are scared of us, except for a lot of humans, >> The sun is slowly returning to its normal color, though clouds roll in to cast fanciful shadows on the beach, constantly changing shape and figure. << Does that make them braver, to not be afraid of us? Or just stupid? >> A courageous herdbeast shuffled to the dragons is undoubtedly stupid, but her Lu? << No, not stupid. >> Answering her own question before Temrianth has the chance to say anything irredeemably offensive. (Rielsath to Temrianth)

"She seems pretty -- interesting." From what he can gather from Temrianth, at least; Kh'ry is not one to naturally figure out draconic natures by observation, by the puzzled expression on his face. "I think Tem woulda made a good Harper, all the questions he asks." Is there a sour note to Kh'ry's tone? Of course not. Ahem. "He's a mess. I don't think I could manage t'keep a journal -- wouldn't be able to have all the time to write all the things down." That's not a slight against Temrianth, and the innocent way the boy states it makes that somewhat obvious: it's just a fact of life. Kh'ry doesn't hardly have time to eat, much less write. Well, other than what those damned Harper lessons make him... "Seems like it just gets busier, rather'n less busy."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Temrianth doesn't seem to mind the bloody shores whatsoever, though the sands drift in color in odd manners, from island-yellow to Southern white then to Istan black, glittering the deepest, darkest red. << I don't understand why dragons aren't allowed to hunt some humans. Some of them seem quite vicious enough to rate being eaten! >> Mean people suck!, in other words. The innocence of a dragon seeped in an Islander mind certainly seems different than the norm, does it not? Or perhaps -- not that different at all, given Rielsath's query. << I'm not sure if that has any correlation with intelligence, >> he muses, his attention distracted as he watches a blue the size of a small barge, gawky and dark-denim in color, make a swift kill as a falcon on the wing. << So many different hunting styles! >> His enthusiasm seems boundless.

"She is. They all are, in ways." Listening earnestly to Kh'ry's description of things, the rider is happy to lend an ear. "It's natural for dragonets to be all questions," Trying to reassure that sour note out of his voice, Lu shifts and leans against the fence backwards, face turned from the dragon who has shifted to wiping her stained snout over the grasses in an attempt to clean it. Rielsath still picks at the carcass before her despite the cleanliness, soon leaving off the grooming altogether. It can wait, right? There are humans for that. "I'd be more concerned if you said you had just enough time, thanks very much. Means you're not shirking duty or neglecting him," A little chin jerk towards Temrianth, whom she regards with a beam. Whatever she's getting from Rielsath, it's damn endearing. "Sounds like he's keen on learning, which is less work for you in the long run."

Dragon> To Temrianth, Rielsath spits bones onto the shore, some shipwrecked blighter gone to float. It's the little details she fills in now, the faroff cliffs just beyond a wild jungle, caves ripe for exploring if not for the looming tower of smoke emanating from the mountain's peak. << It's not fair to them, I guess. Since we're animals, we can kill other animals. And they're humans but they're not supposed to kill each other either, >> She doesn't like the knot either, picking at the twisted idea with needly bolts of lightning. << They have their own ways of doing things, Lu says. It's bad to kill something that can reason and think for itself. >> Glad to drop the cursed, twisted knot in the bloody sand, she turns to watch more dragons descent on an early-morning feast. << Gets the job done. It's not fun without a little challenge, though. >> Hence the chasing, apparently.

"Mmmm. Yeah, they all seem -- the other weyrling dragons, that is -- to have very unique and..." Kh'ry seeks out the word. "/Set/ personalities, if that makes sense?" His eyebrows furrow together. He does flash a smile for Lujayn then, at the end. "Yeah, I think you're right, maybe. Open to learning rather than /really/ set in his ways." Like some of his clutchbrothers. "Er." He glances over to Temrianth. "I think we'd better be gettin' back to the barracks before Weyrlingmaster Meara throws a fit." Not that she would, /really/, but... "It was good to see you, goldrider." He has a beaming smile and a salute, before him and his lifemate both reluctantly turn back to the barracks.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Temrianth considers this /very/ thoughtfully. And thoroughly, as evinced by the lessening of his mental storms to a clear, blood-red sky: << I... that will require some thought, I imagine. Very... >> He drifts off, lost to the sound of waves lapping at the blackened shore. << Ahh. Kh'ry says we're to leave. >> His voice is regretful. << It was very pleasant speaking with you, Rielsath. I hope I can see you hunt again! >> Cheer overtakes the gloom of leaving, and his merry storms return blue and grey by waves, the bloodlust receding from his mental touch.

With the feeding mostly over and a happy, bloody Rielsath bounding over to join the festivities, it might be a good idea that Kh'ry has chosen that moment to return to the barracks. It's a little more grisly up close; Lujayn wipes the worst of it away from her gold's snout using that handy, long-abandoned jacket. "You too. I'm going to scrub this off before it can really crust up. Bet you know all about that, though." She waves to the weyrling's retreating back, nodding to Temrianth with a faint 'shoo' motion of her hands to encourage him along. "Good luck today." Both dragon and rider newly occupied, they leave the scene of the crime for the herders to clean up and head towards the lake, Lujayn chatting quietly to the dragon hopping along beside her.

Dragon> To Temrianth, Rielsath punctuates the storms with her own crackles of electricity and flashes of colored lightning, silver edging softening dark stormclouds. << I don't get as hungry as you, >> She admits, taking some of the blood and sunlight with her as she follows Lujayn away. << But I'll let you know, if you want to learn! >> No one ever said Rielsath was against letting little weyrlings try to hunt, as long as humans aren't around to scold her.

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Logs:Rielsath's Seven Words

2011-12-04T19:32:05Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Emme, Lujayn, Riorde
| where = Living Caverns, High Reaches
| what = Lu catches up with a couple of weyrlings over breakfast while Rielsath corrupts Rhazekth with profane words. They are probably up to no good. ''Adult language in dragonchat''
| when = Day 21, Month 7, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.21
| quote = Double dare..
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

After doing calisthenics, Emme *had* to run for the baths before trying to get food. The whole time, obviously, reassuring Rhaz that it's totally ok that he has a bit of time to himself. And she won't be long, honest! He's slowly getting used to this new routine, but breakfast is usually wolfed down in short order without much thought to what's being eaten. Today, at first glance, doesn't appear to be any exception. In the process of braiding her hair back out of her face the new brownrider is nudging a plate along the trestle table and dropping stuff onto it in a hurry. Klah is the last thing grabbed before she tries to find a free spot to sit.'.

Mornings are busy as a general rule, but Lujayn's been up for some time and has none of the frazzled second-month weyrling look about her. The junior looks up from her quiet end of a long table, no paperwork to be seen, just a half-empty plate and a newly filled mug. "You look like you could use a nap," She tries to catch Emme's attention in passing, "Did Rhaz have you up early, or is this the general state of the barracks right now?" She smiles, indicating an open seat across the table - it's been a while since they've chatted; Lu doesn't need much prompting to recall her own days as a newly Impressed rider.

A familiar voice! Emme latches onto it like a lifeline, turning a slightly glazed expression towards Lujayn before she startles into a smile. "Oh! Morning, Lujayn. I..yes, and yes. Calisthenics, and then I try to get a bath in. And then eat. Rhaz is still getting used to me not being there constantly. So..." her voice trails off when she folds into a seat. "I hear we start lessons soon. I think I'm the only one in the barracks that's really looking forward to that. And something about Mentors. We're suposed to get those too. So busy!"

Lujayn can't help but laugh, politely at least, when she hears Emme's plight. "It's all about the process, isn't it? You'll be used to it in.. oh, a few turns. I promise." "Yup, lessons and anatomy, everything fun like that. The dragons will learn too, through you, so that's some consolation. You won't have to go back and give mini-lessons of your own." Not being heavily involved with the weyrling staff, she can only listen and nod for the most part. "Mentors, lessons, all those bits of free time you thought you'd have once your dragon didn't eat every six hours going to other things. Yeah, it's busy." There's silence, letting the clatter of plates and conversation from the rest of the table wash over her before continuing. "You look like you're doing well." Half-done hair, mindless breakfast and all. "You made it here."

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath's mind flickers a bit sleepily, lighting a candle to chase away cloudy dawn mists. << Rhazekth. You're not /lonely/ in a barracks full of dragons, are you? >> Teasing can't mask her compassion for the younger brown, the soft light more for shared comfort than soothing her waking mind. << She'll come back. >>

Emme nods her agreement at first, because she is busy stuffing a pastry into her mouth and doesn't -really- want to spit crumbs out at the poor weyrwoman. "Anatomy should be... different. I've never learned anything like that before. But I bet Evali will love those lessons." she decides, once she's been able to go through a chew and swallow cycle. There's another couple of nods given, sips of klah preventing her speech. Which might be a good thing, else it would be ALL babble. "I think so. I feel as though we fit and we're doing well." she agrees, trying to encompass all of the exiles in that.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth thinks the candle flame is something to play with, of course, as he's still young yet. And a tendril of sand rises up to swat playfully at it. << It is not the same unless Emme is there too! >> he points out, stating the obvious. But he's fast to accept the warmth and comfort being offered, opening a book beneath the candle next, to keep his mind occupied. << She will. Was this hard for you too? >>

"Why Evali?" Lujayn asks after one of the weyrlings with whom she's had less direct contact. "Is she rethinking the sea-monster thing now?" Or was that Iolene? She can't quite remember which islanders didn't take to the concept of 'dragon' right off the bat. "It's harder than it sounds. A lot of memorization, and not just for the exam like some harper classes are. You have to remember this stuff for life." Wow. Early morning downer ahoy. "I haven't heard of any more fights, at least. That's good!" She stumbles back in an attempt to keep the conversation light. Meaning either there are no fights or they're better at hiding it. Either way, no news is good news.

Dragon> The flame gutters out all at once as it's doused with sand, but Rielsath fuses an ember to each grain of sand as Rhazekth's mind sweeps through her own. There, light. << She's there, right, in your mind? It's different from being /there/ there. >> The candle reappears as a circle of little flames, bending closer to the book to see if there are any words written on the page. << What's that? What have you been learning? >> She spies unabashedly. (Rielsath to Rhazekth)

"Evali was a midwife on the Island, and was looking in to being a Healer; joining the craft. I just think she'll find it the most interesting, of all of us." There's a pause, and a furrowed brow then, before Emme shakes her head. "That was more Iolene and Khorde with the sea monster thing." she explains, nodding at the warning of how diferent some of this new learning is going to be. "That's good. I look forward to it then. Even if that makes me a little... off." the girl jokes, apparently not taking it as a downer at all! "There's some bickering and disagreement. But apparently we've at least kept it all from coming to blows again. I can't imagine what set that off in the first place."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth stares at the glowing bits of sand for what might be an eternity before replying. << Yes, she's always here in my mind with me. I like that. >> As the candle flames loom closer to his open book, he flutters a breeze across it, making them flicker even more. << Something called etiquette. And the weyr command structure. We go over this again and again, since Emme is still unfamiliar with it. >> The slow scrawl of words indicate that even while breakfasting, the harper is communicating and memorizing.

Lujayn thinks that one over, swirling her mug to catch up any tasty dregs. "If you're good at it, you could consider dragonhealing - or anyone could. I always liked having something practical to do with knowledge instead of letting it clog my brain. After weyrlinghood, that is. Don't want too many kettles in the fire," Her own speech is somewhat fragmented and tired, so Lu doesn't notice Emme's own scattered conversation. Must be a morning thing. "Didn't mean to bring that up," She winces apologetically, "It's in the past. And it's just that.. well, I'm not exactly there every day with you guys, so news sticks with me. Maybe they'll have me mentoring, that might stop me from thinking of you guys as a bunch of hooligans." A teasing wink. "Did you read up on dragons at all when you were poring through the archives? Or was that just for history?"

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath draws away just in time to keep her zealous flames from engulfing Rhazekth's endless book, a gust of icy Reaches wind trying to flip the pages to something more interesting. << That's like keeping people happy, and making sure no one gets upset with you, but it's going to happen anyway, >> The gold asserts with an impatient drip of hot wax, burning bright before fading into darkness. Something heavy clatters open in her mind, waking more fully. << You should learn about flying. That's better. >>

"I could." Emme thinks about that for a moment, a glance out towards the bowl obviously meant to convey that she's conferring with Rhazekth. "But I think we might be better with things more Harper related." she admits, popping a last bit of pastry into her mouth and then waving a hand dismissively at the apology. "Sometimes it seems that we bring about the misconceptions about ourselves all on our own. Coupled with the things beyond our control... well, Rhaz and I just figure we'll let our own actions stand for themselves. Hopefully others of us will do the same, right?" The thought of herself as a hooligan makes her laugh. Really laugh. "Honestly, all that time I spent in the archives was for history. Hoping to find something to help the exiles. It was sort-sighted of me."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth gleefully watches pages flipping, and battles the icy wind with a gust of hot desert air. Hopefully, this will not cause a tornado. << Oh, wait. I know what that is called! >> he exclaims, nosing through a couple of pages to show off a single word: Inevitable. << Mine says she inevitably pisses people off. Oh... I wasn't supposed to word it like that? Right... She inevitably makes people upset with her, because she asks too many questions and won't take no for an answer. >> There, pleased with himself, he perks up further at the mention of flying. << I hope we learn this soon! I want to use my WINGS! >>

Lujayn follows Emme's head turn automatically before realizing she's still used to the physical aspect of talking to a dragon. At least she isn't chattering out loud to him in the middle of the living cavern. "It's good to know your strengths," She admits. "And weaknesses, too. As long as you get a balance of everything in there, you'll be okay." Really. Lu promises! "You could still help the exiles. There are plenty of people who aren't happy about seeing more than half the clutch Impressed to islanders, as stupid as that sounds. I like your idea. Actions do speak louder than words." Let's hope they have some damn big actions. "Would've been nice if everyone made friends once the hatching furor died down, but the truth..." Sigh. It's too early for deep conversation, but Lu is managing. "People don't change so easily."

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath lets the icy and hot winds duke it out on their own, watching a small puff of static spark and dissipate quickly. Just for fun. << That's a good word. >> She angles closer to the dictionary-like heading, committing it to an albeit brief memory. Maybe Lujayn will put it in her repertoire, at least. Little firebugs flicker here and there, crawling over the pages out of the shadows. << Piss is fine, >> She sparks with laughter at Rhaz's near-bashfulness. << There are a lot of good words out there. >> Hmm. A mischievous light, glow-under-the-blanket-like, suffuses the area. << I could teach you. >> Wings, or curse words? Both are open for discussion.

"I think the blooded have more then enough help. Once we graduate, I'm going to see what I can do to help the others." Emme's reply is simple, just like that, and without any detail. And for once, the pleasant and soft spoken girl's tone takes on a closed edge to it. So, she changes it! "Plenty of people will just have to live with it. It's done and there's nothing to be changed about it now. But enough of all that! What is it that you like to do in your spare time? We always seem to wind up discussing depressing things."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth apparently sees an opportunity here to shock his lifemate. And he is going to take it! << Yes, teach me! >> the litle brown encourages, protectively swirling a storm of sand around to block out prying minds. << Words, and wings! Words and wings. >> He is far too excited by this prospect.

Despite being a morning person used to being up at the crack of dawn or before, Riorde looks uncountably groggy as she winds her way through the main caverns. She hardly looks right and left, movements that of an automaton: porridge, check; klah, no milk and two spoonfuls of sweetener, check. Only then does she seem to recognise her surroundings and look for a place to sit, sliding in next to her fellow exile-weyrling, Emme with a grunt that suffices for a hello.

Lujayn doesn't mind taking the hint, following the trail of conversation with enthusiasm. "Right! It's in the past, so there's nothing to be done about it. You don't have to explain yourself to them for having someone like Rhazekth in your life, now." Hm? Herself? It's obviously more interesting to discuss someone else's daily life than recite your own. "Spare time is much better than working time. I try not to bum around too much in here, but sometimes it's the only place I can catch up with people." Proof: busy weyrlings scarfing breakfast. "Ri and I go trekking out of the Weyr a lot, for a change of scenery. But most lately I've been trying to fix up her ledge-" Then there's Riorde, who gets an equally short greeting from the rider. "Early for you?"

Emme grins, rueful. "Faranth help anyone who questions the dragonets choices anyway. We have some tempremental ones that might take exception." she jokes. Maybe only partly joking; their tempers are already legendary remember? And speaking of one such... "Riorde, hey. Gulp that klah." She kows the other weyrling isn't exactly talkative until she's more awake. "The others going to be sliding in soon?"

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath's firebugs wiggle with delight, scuttling away as she plucks a rather well-used book to pile on top of Rhazekth's instructional tome. << Here, let's see. What do you know? Shards, shells, damn, piss, >> Flip flip flip, those are boring. << Fuck. Fucking hell. /Flying/ fuck. >> There are the wings, as requested. There isn't much context behind the words, leaving the weyrling to figure out the correct usage through trial and error. Fuzzy images swim into view, maybe people from Lu's mind to fit some less savory descriptors. Childlike, giddy secretiveness builds, a couple of kids trying out dirty words. << Bitch, whore, cunt, jackass, prick, >> Hopefully he's paying attention. It's not much fun to just list words without hurling them at someone. << Inevitable. >> See, she learned too. Even if that's not an insult, it is still a Good Word.

For a minute, Riorde looks at Lujayn with a look of incomprehension. Setting her things down on the table, she follows Emme's instructions without further delay, hissing against the heat. It slows her down a little, but the mug's still half-empty when she sets it down. "Not early," she says after her last swallow. "He's just not sleeping nights." She doesn't say who 'he' is, riding on the assumption that it's the sort of thing that goes without saying. "Was okay the first night, but this is the fifth." Emme's question about the others gets a shrug as Ri applies herself to her porridge.

"Ouch," Lujayn winces. "Not so bad when they can stay up without keeping /you/ up, but.. yeah, ouch. Too bad there aren't more insomniac dragonets, we could have a nocturnal class." Between the two weyrlings, she tries as always to spin some good out of an annoying situation. "It's not as fun unless they're bursting with their own personality, isn't it? I couldn't imagine a dragon trailing along behind me instead of doing her own thing. Er, his own thing." Little does she know.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth huddles over this old book, his muzzle practically pressed right up against it while he soaks up many of these new words. The skittering of scarabs in the distance starts to loom closer, and closer... until he washes them away in a flood of rain when a moment of comprehension strikes. << Those ARE good words. But these are ones we say to ourselves so that we don't upset other people, right? Unless we /want/ to upset someone... >> Dingding! He's learning. He's practically leaping up and down in his excitement over this new vocabulary.

"Maybe once they join in with us for exercises, he'll be too exhausted to stay up at night." Emme suggests helpfully. Er, hopefully. "Is it because he wants to go explore, or just because he can't stop thinking and processing?" Because she's curious of course. And probably feeling a bit bad for her fellow weyrling. "I would say they're definitely starting to assert those separate personalities about now. It's kind of fun to hear of what all the other dragonets are saying and thinking." There's still some fruit left on her plate from when she scraped breakfast together, and she nudges it Riorde's way, in case the other girl wants to add it to her porridge.

Dragon> The diatribe continues rather methodically, Rielsath reciting from her book. The pages are there for Rhazekth's inspection, egged on by his enthusiasm. The bugs are still buzzing, lighting up the best words as she scans the list. << Shit, bullshit. >> Hm? Oh, conversation. Right. << I use 'em when I want, not too much I guess. But they're handy. Lu doesn't say them a lot to other people. >> There's certainly the potential for it. << And you can make things up, too. Those aren't as mean, either, just fun. Wherrytits. Dungface. >> This is the more creative side, the fun part. << Motherfucking cow. Hey, you try. >> Unadulterated glee, phosphorous stars lighting the secret space. Rhaz is a quick study. (Rielsath to Rhazekth)

"I'm sure we'll fall asleep later on in the middle of something important," Riorde tries to joke, glancing up. A flicker of doubt shows hen Lujayn mentions the word 'fun,' though she nods. "Exploring," she clarifies as she helps herself to Emme's fruit, tipping the plate and using her fingers to push the fruit into her bowl. "He's not really the thinking type."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth tries so hard to remember all of these, incorporating them into his vast array of vocabulary so that he can display them in all their glory for Eme at just the right (ie - wrong) time. << Me try? >> Ooooooooooh. He flips back and forth between the pages, trying to find a fun combination or two. << How about... Fuckface! Turdbrain. Shitstain...Ovineballs! >> He starts listing all these off, pausing in his diatribe to look for approval of course.

Lujayn gleans what she can from Riorde's tired explanations, trying to piece together a name from Rielsath's distracted mind. "Well! That's a start. Sforzath, isn't it?" The rider's rambling a little bit, trying to catch up some of the ground between the weyrlings, familiar with each other, and herself - not so much. "Better falling asleep in a lecture than on the wing, which isn't really an option right now. Getting it out of his system and all that." It might be a bad time, but she can't resist asking: "Where does he explore?"

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath flutters the pages again, finding blank space to stamp the new creations in. The scrawled words are in all different hands, a number of sources contributing to this work of art. << Good! Those are all good. >> Not one bad thing to say about the bad words, though if she did it would probably be more profanity at this point. << Bloody fucking brilliant. I think that's sarcasm, which is different from an insult but also kind of one? >> That nuance isn't clear to her, not usually. Each word is a bright splash of color on a dull, dark background, painting the world around them a messy rainbow of free speech. << Twat, >> She declares rather proudly, nearly obscene lemon yellow. Less imagery, more straightforward colors and words alone. << That is a very good one for people you don't like. >> Then there are gray areas, the dangerous social faux pas. << Faggot is a good-bad word, I don't know, at holds? >> That's quite outside her personal knowledge. << That's not so bad here. >>

Emme appears sympathetic, though she doesn't quite have the same problem. "Fifth night in a row... think he's almost done? It's a big place, but I can't imagine how he's not exhausting himself after only a short trip." She waits for the answer to where Riorde's brown is exploring as well, eyebrow raised expectantly. In the meantime, she sips at her klah and tries to figure out just what is amusing her own lifemate so much right now.

Riorde nods again, this time as Lujayn names her dragon. She uses her spoon to mix in the fruit before starting to eat. "Dunno," she replies to Emme, hesitating before her answer. "Not like we've had one before. Bet Evali's got it easiest. At least she's used to babies." Birthing them, not necessarily caring for them, but Riorde doesn't make a distinction. "He keeps heading for the pens. Kept him out so far -- I don't think he gets that he's too small for it."

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth is inordinately proud of himself so have contributed to the vast book of impropriety! He even starts a chapter in his tome of knowledge to scrawl out all these new and delicious ways ox expressing displeasure. And when he hears the word 'twat', his headknobs twitch a little, a moment of inspiration hitting him. << TWATWAFFLE! >> he exclaims, excitedly. << Tomaeran is a TWATWAFFLE. You're right, that /is/ a good one for people I don't like. >> It is, of course, the gray areas that require extra atention, his talons tapping out a quiet beat while he takes in the differences. << If it's not bad here, then there's no point to use it really. It would seem. Right? >>

"Did you try getting him a calf? Or one of the small ones? Sometimes they'll let 'em practice on the slower or really little ones. But he might be young for that." It slips Lujayn's memory momentarily just how little the weyrlings still are. Probably has something to do with their mature counterparts. "Curiosity is a good thing in my book. Means he won't be after you at six months to be cutting up meat for him, much less hand-feeding." As for the nighttime wakefulness, "No chance you can dose him with fellis?"

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath pauses, lights whirling and flickering with electric sparks. << Waffle? >> That doesn't sound like a particularly nasty word. But when paired with twat, they're off and running. << Twatwaffle. Porcine-spanker. >> She doesn't know or much care who this Tomaeran is, as long as the creative words are going to good use. << I know, I know! >> A happy little hop. Gone is the secretive air of their library, now proud and colorful - enter at your own risk. << Well, if you want t'make people angry or rile them up, it's good. Or if you use a lot of them about the Weyrleaders. To their /face/. >> Oooh. Double-dare you.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth pauses in his happydance, wings settling into place and an air of curiousity replacing the illicit celebration. << Call the Weyrleaders faggots? So that hey can hear me say it? Or is this just calling them that where only Emme hears it. >> The terms of the dare have to be clearly drawn before he can decide if he's going to take this risk or not.

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath has to pause as well, taking the time to survey. << Maybe not to the people. Like, Iovniath or Cadejoth. If it's just your rider - hey, it would be funny if she said it. But she wouldn't, >> Chasing each other in circles, the little sparks hum. << You make her sound very, very nice to people. >> It's hard to tell if that's a good or a bad thing, and probably isn't in either category. Rielsath plots. << Call them whatever you want, it'd be hilarious to watch them get shitfaced. >>

Looking up suddenly, there is perhaps a bit of a pale sheen to Emme's face. "I... they /practice/ on the animals? Please tell me they're dead first." That's as close to pleading as she normally gets. "I mean.. maybe I shouldn' think about this at breakfast." the girl decides, going back to sipping at her klah and glancing between the other two in order to watch how this conversation develops.

Riorde is unaccustomed enough to dragons to actually think Lujayn's on to something. "He'll like that," she says with real pleasure that wakes her up a bit. That plus the klah. It's stark contrast to Emme's reaction; Riorde never blinks at the idea of her dragon taking down a live animal. Perhaps it'll be different when she actually sees it, feels it for the first time. "Fellis?" she repeats, a bit blank. "What'll that do?"

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth glances both ways, as if ensuring there's nobody listening in when he confesses. << Oh she gets *really* mad at people. But only once has she called someone names to their face. Usually she just says it in her head. >> And as the queen plots, he listens. << This could be interesting. Their reactions will tell me a lot! >> Assuming Emme is unable to stop him from moving forward with this plan.

"They'll start hunting before they can really fly," Lujayn affirms, "Not on the whole herd, just with a select few to get the feel of it. Ri tore out a talon one of her first times -" Right, that's not good breakfast conversation, but the experiential information is worth the retelling. "It's good practice, all in all." To Riorde, she explains: "You wouldn't use it on a dragon, not that I know of. It's a juice from the fellis plant that keeps people knocked out if they need it, or otherwise conveniently calm. They might cover some basic healer info with the dragon lessons, so you can keep both of you healthy."

"So they'll... really be..." Hrk. Emme's stomach likes this thought even less then her brain does. And she needs time to process it. Something about her expression suggests she realizes she has to learn how to deal with this. But OH is it ever distasteful. "I think I should see what Rhaz is up to." she decided abruptly, as if only now realizing that the little brown is plotting something that doesn't bode well. "Catch you both soon!" Bolt.

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath illuminates the area with a variety of lights, sunny and bright, sneaky and dim, twinkly, flashy, busy. << You have a lot of good ideas. You should use them! >> She doesn't specify which ones, rather leaving the brown to his own devices. Her own book of less-appropriate words is left behind for him to study as her own mind recedes, focusing on something more pressing now that she's indoctrinated another young mind with objectionable habits. << Let me know how it goes. Or, if you do it right I'll probably hear before you can even tell me. >> That's the last encouragement before the gold departs, an icy wind turning all the pages and dousing the candles - just in case someone comes spying on their work.

"You don't use it on dragons -- but you said --" Riorde starts to realise that Lujayn's suggestion is likely a joke and cuts herself off about the time that Emme starts making her excuses. "See you," she calls into Emme's wake; the other girl's already gone. Emme's flight starts to spur her own, acting as a cue to make her eat quicker. "He'll be up again soon."

Lujayn realizes just how long she must have been lazing around the living cavern, judging by the arrival and departure of two weyrlings before she's even thought about moving from the table. "Thanks for the reminder," She comments after Emme. She's a bit distracted now, trying to search Rielsath's mind and coming up with a wall. "Up to something, those dragons." Lu shakes her head and smiles. "Don't choke yourself. I'd better make sure Ri's doing okay before the day really starts. Take it easy, okay?" Hopefully Riorde won't find herself a night owl for much longer. Collecting her abandoned dishes, Lu's off with a jaunty wave.

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Logs:New Ones

2011-12-04T19:31:37Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Emme, Lujayn
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches
| what = Lujayn meets Emme (nee-'line) and Rhazekth face-to-face. Between lighthearted and serious, it's a strange conversation - even without splashing dragons interrupting.
| when = Day 12, Month 7, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.18
| quote = << Rocks are more fun than fish... they live longer. >>
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

A warm mid-morning attracts many people to the refreshing lake shore, the goldrider Lujayn and her lifemate being two of a generous handful of weyrfolk already spread out along the waterline. For once there's no bucket of oil nor a scrubbing cloth, the queen half-slumbering peacefully with her tail flicking through the shallow waters that her rider is wading through. For all the gossip and turmoil having hit High Reaches since the hatching, both seem relaxed and even playful. Just when it seems Rielsath has dozed off, the sunfire tail whips out of the water to splash Lujayn thoroughly, the dragon's half-lidded eyes whirling amused blue-greens. "Just because I need a bath doesn't mean you get to wash me." Lu splutters with a grin, looking around for familiar faces.

Speaking of familiar faces, a weyrling pair find themselves ambling toward the lake for a good scrubbing - of the dragon at least - the lightly glittered hide of Rhazekth perhaps recognizable. Followed shortly by a slightly bemused islander, Emme. "I know you like to see what happens when you splash, but other people might not appreciate it!" she calls out, trying to halt his impending leap and dive into the water. "Because they don't want to get wet, that's why! Maybe they've already washed!" Like, Lu for example. Who has just been watered. "Lujayn, hello!" the girl calls, the little brown chuffing an uninhibited greeting to both queen and rider before he... yes, leaps into the water.

Rielsath raises her head from her snow-spattered paws, watching Rhazekth dive into the lake with unrestrained curiosity. << He's so /tiny/, >> She remarks to her rider and also the brown in question, wondering at his energy despite the weyrling smallness. "Rielsath won't mind," Lu wades closer to shore no more or less wet for the weyrling's splashiness, finding her shoes amongst the rocks before walking closer to the brownrider. "Did I hear you're Emme, now?" A proud, beaming smile. "Congratulations. It's so fun when the dragonets get a chance to venture out of the barracks.." This as she watches Rhazekth dive into the shallows, along with Rielsath's tail waving back and forth like twine to a domesticated feline. "What's his name?"

<< I am tiny compared to all the giant dragons out here! >> Rhazekth agrees, wriggling his hind end like a playful feline or puppy. << But I *will* be big. Emme says so. All dragons start small and grow, she said. >> Obviously, he has asked a lot of questions about his tiny stature. But he is soon more concerned with the swishing gold tail, the blue-green swirl of his eyes tracking each movement until he spies a pattern and tries to trap this wiggling golden twine between small paws. For her part, Emme beams proudly at the playfulness and curiousity. "Yes, and thank you! Most of my friends called me Emme anyway, so it's easy to get used to." the former harper admits. "And he, is Rhazekth. I'm sure that translates somehow in dragonese to 'eternally curious and never stops asking questions'"

Lujayn watches Rhazekth scamper, a silent evaluation in her mind taking place before she nods. "He looks healthy. And happy." Grin. "Good job, is all I can say. The first weeks are tricky, some draognets get clingy or scared, but Rielsath's got to be ten times his size.." And nary a hesitation to show for it. "I'd be more worried if he weren't asking questions. Curiosity is a good thing." The gold might as well be tiny weyrling fun-size judging by the way she smacks her tail on the surface, challenging Rhazekth with a splash of her own. << Not as big as me, >> She asserts, shifting to lay her neck in the cool, shallow water with a mischievous burbling. << She knows a lot, your Emme. I remember you saying so. >> Distant reflections of light, flashbulb thoughts bouncing off mirrors and catching in her words, bring back their earlier conversation. << Harpers are smart in different ways. >>

"The first few days were hard. Especially with... Seani. And then not knowing what has happened to Devaki or Raum." Emme admits, taking a moment to say the words and steel herself against the accompanying emotions. Rhazekth pauses in his play a moment, small muzzle swinging up to look over with a flicker of orange and red marring the calm of his eyes. But whatever reassurance she passes on seems to work, because he turns right back to 'popping' the bubbles with his beaky little nose. << Not as big as you. But maybe faster? Not as fast as Yanijath though. She will be very fast because she is so small. >> He relays this, of course, with all the certainly of a full grown dragon with twenty turns experience. << I do think she knows a lot, or I would not have chosen her. >> he asserts, swirling the music of wet reeds around the refractions of light. << What does it mean to be smart in different ways? >>

"We try not to bring it up too much," Lujayn admits, "Especially if it's upsetting the dragonets. We're working on it." She promises with somewhat of a tight expression, gray eyes going distant as she watches the dragons at play. << I am fast, too, >> Rielsath retorts in her best mature voice, << Big dragons have strength to keep them fast for longer. You will be a big dragon, >> Eyeing his color, appreciative of his slight shimmer, she sends a few more mental bubbles his way, each a rainbow of gauzy color. << Harper-smart. She knows lots of things of books, I'd expect, and remembers little things. Other people remember big things, or they are smart with people, or smart with guessing. >> No hints as to what she's 'smart' about, though her shimmering soap bubbles grow more dense. << And you? Do you know what you're good at? >> Some small pressure for a young dragon.

"Thank you for that. She was special to me. To a lot of us." Emme admits, though it's with a smile instead of an upset frown. "I hope whomever did it is caught." she adds firmly, obviously not considering that Seani may have somehow had a hand in it at all. << Yes, that is a good description. She remembers little things. Perhaps I can remember big things for her, so that she sees everything. >> he sounds hopeful at that, the rise and fall of chitinous wings clashing together signalling his good humor. << Right now I am good at eating, and growing, and learning. Should I know yet what I will be best at when I'm grown? >> Puzzled, he nocks his head expectantly at the older dragon.

<< Nah, >> Rielsath, not bothered in the least by Rhazekth's questions, << You can figure it out as you go along, or other people will tell you if you can't decide. >> She blocks out some of Lu's thoughts, keeping a silver rainfall at bay with a wave of golden desert sand, keeping out the worried emotions for both of them. No fun thinking about dead islanders. << What kind of big things will you remember? >> She asks curiously, still half-submerged. Meanwhile, Lujayn smiles reassuringly to Emme. "I can't claim to know her well. High Reaches has had their share of misdeeds in the past. We've always come out on top." Equally firm, confident. "But no one's seek Devaki? Raum?" Not that Lu's been drafted for search parties or anything. "I'd expect them to stick to the Weyr, somehow. Guilty or not."

Rhazekth seems relieved that he doesn't need to figure out all of this NOW. But, he does appear to have a ready response for Rielsath. << Maybe something like... she will remember a shirt was red, and I will just remember that the person was dressed well. >> he ventures, pleased with himself for coming up with this thought. He is, of course, still paddling around, rubbing himself in the fine grains of sand to pretty much wash himself in most respects. And then maybe swat at the big golden tail again, until a water bug catches his attention. "No, we haven't seen them. And I would think if nothing else, Devaki would have wanted to stay and congratulate his sister on her impression. It worries us."

That's a pretty specific example. Rielsath is indeed impressed, << If you like red. >> She tinges the sunbeams with shades of crimson, an almost bloody sunlight streaming down from her words. << I am good at learning, too. And adventure. >> She shares more quietly, whisking her tail away just before the young brown discovers a skidding waterbug. << There are more interesting things in this lake, if you dive deeply enough.. >> Rocks, fish, mottled light: nearly an alien landscape to the dry land they inhabit. "Politics are unpleasant," Lu folds her arms over her chest, uncomfortable to think of unpleasant, manipulative scheming. "If they're on anyone's list of suspects, being islanders and all, hiding might be their best bet until things cool down." Not tha she's taking sides. Of course not. But Lu is liable to stand up for the persecuted, murder or no. "How are things in the barracks? Rielsath heard of a fight the other day.. between browns? Not yours, I hope."

<< Red is alright. But I prefer lighter colors. >> Rhazekth admits, shimmering a rainbow past the just-rained sky. Shades of yellow and peach and green and even golden tan. Definitely not a real rainbow, that. <
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<really!?>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Who: Emme, Lujayn, Rhazekth, Rielsath
Where: Lake Shore, HRW
When: Day 12, month 7, turn 26

Lujayn meets Emme<strike>line</strike> and Rhazekth face-to-face. Between lighthearted and serious, it's a strange conversation - even without splashing dragons interrupting.

<lj-cut text="<< Rocks are more fun than fish... they live longer. >>">
A warm mid-morning attracts many people to the refreshing lake shore, the goldrider Lujayn and her lifemate being two of a generous handful of weyrfolk already spread out along the waterline. For once there's no bucket of oil nor a scrubbing cloth, the queen half-slumbering peacefully with her tail flicking through the shallow waters that her rider is wading through. For all the gossip and turmoil having hit High Reaches since the hatching, both seem relaxed and even playful. Just when it seems Rielsath has dozed off, the sunfire tail whips out of the water to splash Lujayn thoroughly, the dragon's half-lidded eyes whirling amused blue-greens. "Just because I need a bath doesn't mean you get to wash me." Lu splutters with a grin, looking around for familiar faces.

Speaking of familiar faces, a weyrling pair find themselves ambling toward the lake for a good scrubbing - of the dragon at least - the lightly glittered hide of Rhazekth perhaps recognizable. Followed shortly by a slightly bemused islander, Emme. "I know you like to see what happens when you splash, but other people might not appreciate it!" she calls out, trying to halt his impending leap and dive into the water. "Because they don't want to get wet, that's why! Maybe they've already washed!" Like, Lu for example. Who has just been watered. "Lujayn, hello!" the girl calls, the little brown chuffing an uninhibited greeting to both queen and rider before he... yes, leaps into the water.

Rielsath raises her head from her snow-spattered paws, watching Rhazekth dive into the lake with unrestrained curiosity. << He's so /tiny/, >> She remarks to her rider and also the brown in question, wondering at his energy despite the weyrling smallness. "Rielsath won't mind," Lu wades closer to shore no more or less wet for the weyrling's splashiness, finding her shoes amongst the rocks before walking closer to the brownrider. "Did I hear you're Emme, now?" A proud, beaming smile. "Congratulations. It's so fun when the dragonets get a chance to venture out of the barracks.." This as she watches Rhazekth dive into the shallows, along with Rielsath's tail waving back and forth like twine to a domesticated feline. "What's his name?"

<< I am tiny compared to all the giant dragons out here! >> Rhazekth agrees, wriggling his hind end like a playful feline or puppy. << But I *will* be big. Emme says so. All dragons start small and grow, she said. >> Obviously, he has asked a lot of questions about his tiny stature. But he is soon more concerned with the swishing gold tail, the blue-green swirl of his eyes tracking each movement until he spies a pattern and tries to trap this wiggling golden twine between small paws. For her part, Emme beams proudly at the playfulness and curiousity. "Yes, and thank you! Most of my friends called me Emme anyway, so it's easy to get used to." the former harper admits. "And he, is Rhazekth. I'm sure that translates somehow in dragonese to 'eternally curious and never stops asking questions'"

Lujayn watches Rhazekth scamper, a silent evaluation in her mind taking place before she nods. "He looks healthy. And happy." Grin. "Good job, is all I can say. The first weeks are tricky, some draognets get clingy or scared, but Rielsath's got to be ten times his size.." And nary a hesitation to show for it. "I'd be more worried if he weren't asking questions. Curiosity is a good thing." The gold might as well be tiny weyrling fun-size judging by the way she smacks her tail on the surface, challenging Rhazekth with a splash of her own. << Not as big as me, >> She asserts, shifting to lay her neck in the cool, shallow water with a mischievous burbling. << She knows a lot, your Emme. I remember you saying so. >> Distant reflections of light, flashbulb thoughts bouncing off mirrors and catching in her words, bring back their earlier conversation. << Harpers are smart in different ways. >>

"The first few days were hard. Especially with... Seani. And then not knowing what has happened to Devaki or Raum." Emme admits, taking a moment to say the words and steel herself against the accompanying emotions. Rhazekth pauses in his play a moment, small muzzle swinging up to look over with a flicker of orange and red marring the calm of his eyes. But whatever reassurance she passes on seems to work, because he turns right back to 'popping' the bubbles with his beaky little nose. << Not as big as you. But maybe faster? Not as fast as Yanijath though. She will be very fast because she is so small. >> He relays this, of course, with all the certainly of a full grown dragon with twenty turns experience. << I do think she knows a lot, or I would not have chosen her. >> he asserts, swirling the music of wet reeds around the refractions of light. << What does it mean to be smart in different ways? >>

"We try not to bring it up too much," Lujayn admits, "Especially if it's upsetting the dragonets. We're working on it." She promises with somewhat of a tight expression, gray eyes going distant as she watches the dragons at play. << I am fast, too, >> Rielsath retorts in her best mature voice, << Big dragons have strength to keep them fast for longer. You will be a big dragon, >> Eyeing his color, appreciative of his slight shimmer, she sends a few more mental bubbles his way, each a rainbow of gauzy color. << Harper-smart. She knows lots of things of books, I'd expect, and remembers little things. Other people remember big things, or they are smart with people, or smart with guessing. >> No hints as to what she's 'smart' about, though her shimmering soap bubbles grow more dense. << And you? Do you know what you're good at? >> Some small pressure for a young dragon.

"Thank you for that. She was special to me. To a lot of us." Emme admits, though it's with a smile instead of an upset frown. "I hope whomever did it is caught." she adds firmly, obviously not considering that Seani may have somehow had a hand in it at all. << Yes, that is a good description. She remembers little things. Perhaps I can remember big things for her, so that she sees everything. >> he sounds hopeful at that, the rise and fall of chitinous wings clashing together signalling his good humor. << Right now I am good at eating, and growing, and learning. Should I know yet what I will be best at when I'm grown? >> Puzzled, he nocks his head expectantly at the older dragon.

<< Nah, >> Rielsath, not bothered in the least by Rhazekth's questions, << You can figure it out as you go along, or other people will tell you if you can't decide. >> She blocks out some of Lu's thoughts, keeping a silver rainfall at bay with a wave of golden desert sand, keeping out the worried emotions for both of them. No fun thinking about dead islanders. << What kind of big things will you remember? >> She asks curiously, still half-submerged. Meanwhile, Lujayn smiles reassuringly to Emme. "I can't claim to know her well. High Reaches has had their share of misdeeds in the past. We've always come out on top." Equally firm, confident. "But no one's seek Devaki? Raum?" Not that Lu's been drafted for search parties or anything. "I'd expect them to stick to the Weyr, somehow. Guilty or not."

Rhazekth seems relieved that he doesn't need to figure out all of this NOW. But, he does appear to have a ready response for Rielsath. << Maybe something like... she will remember a shirt was red, and I will just remember that the person was dressed well. >> he ventures, pleased with himself for coming up with this thought. He is, of course, still paddling around, rubbing himself in the fine grains of sand to pretty much wash himself in most respects. And then maybe swat at the big golden tail again, until a water bug catches his attention. "No, we haven't seen them. And I would think if nothing else, Devaki would have wanted to stay and congratulate his sister on her impression. It worries us."

That's a pretty specific example. Rielsath is indeed impressed, << If you like red. >> She tinges the sunbeams with shades of crimson, an almost bloody sunlight streaming down from her words. << I am good at learning, too. And adventure. >> She shares more quietly, whisking her tail away just before the young brown discovers a skidding waterbug. << There are more interesting things in this lake, if you dive deeply enough.. >> Rocks, fish, mottled light: nearly an alien landscape to the dry land they inhabit. "Politics are unpleasant," Lu folds her arms over her chest, uncomfortable to think of unpleasant, manipulative scheming. "If they're on anyone's list of suspects, being islanders and all, hiding might be their best bet until things cool down." Not tha she's taking sides. Of course not. But Lu is liable to stand up for the persecuted, murder or no. "How are things in the barracks? Rielsath heard of a fight the other day.. between browns? Not yours, I hope."

<< Red is alright. But I prefer lighter colors. >> Rhazekth admits, shimmering a rainbow past the just-rained sky. Shades of yellow and peach and green and even golden tan. Definitely not a real rainbow, that. <<Really!?>> Instantly, the little brown tries diving down and swimming a bit further out. Much to Emme's startlement. "Don't you go far or you'll get too tired!!" she calls out, both voice and mind, putting some heft behind it to try and reign him in. "Politics /are/ unpleasant. Dealt with it enough on the Island to learn that already. I just hope they are alright." The harper is quiet a moment then, her lips twitching at the mention of a brown fight. "Oh, no. Rhazekth is more likely to try and stop a fight then be involved in one. He doesn't let much bother him."

"Good to hear," Lu thinks this over in silence. "Level-headed ones are hard to come by at this age, aren't they?" She has to laugh at the brown's reaction to Rielsath's aquatic images, but does her best to keep the queen from pushing Rhazekth too far out of his depth - literally. "Stop egging him on, Ri. We'll get in trouble if we drown a weyrling." Rielsath retreats somewhat from the water, back to her slightly less-shaded sunning spot. Fine. "Catch you up later? Getting information from Rielsath isn't the same as meeting the weyrlings in person." She's off with a wave, leaving Rielsath to lounge in the young pair's company. << I would /not/ drown you, >> She insists with a fiery sparking of fireworks, << But yes, really. Maybe I will catch a purple rock for you. Rocks are more fun than fish.. they live longer. >>

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Logs:Welcome

2011-12-04T19:31:24Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Rhazekth, Rielsath, Vysravth
| where =
| what = Rielsath is already curious about the new weyrlings.
| when = Day 25, Month 6, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.13
| quote = << Welcome. >>
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions = Lujayn, Emme, E'gin
| icons =
| log =

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath is the faint rays of a rising sun and boisterous curiosity despite the morning hour, gently searching out the minds of the Weyr's newest children. << You are Rhazekth? >> Symbols, now: scales, long-legged desert birds, books. << Welcome. >> Literally beaming, her voice carries warmth and excitement.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth rouses from the light slumber he'd been waiting in, perking up instantly at the sound of a new voice. << I am! Who are you? >> little scarabs scatter in the distance, helping him search for the answer to that, a slow wind of excitement swirls desert around in circling eddies. << Ohhhhh, this is /morning/ mine says. >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath extends her mind to the weyrling barracks with unusual gentility, sunbeams filtered through gauzy clouds. It's not enough to hide her excitement, the chime of bells ringing. She's caught a mind that's half-awake at least. << Hello! >>

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath projects, << I'm Rielsath, >> She replies immediately, the sense of wind whipping through her excited greeting. A clear image of the bowl at dawn, shadows retreating ever so slowly as the sun rises. << It is dawn. When things begin. >> Her own ledge is catching the first rays. A wash of silver mixes with the light, her conversation more imagery than words or sounds. << Is yours from the island? Lujayn says there are lots of them in the barracks. >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth is silent for a moment, no indication that he is actually awake, but then a deep clink, the turn of a gear, slowly at first. Clunk, clunk, clunk. << How you doing? >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath has no smooth queenliness to her voice, joyous uncultured youth and a casual twang. She watches those gears turn with interest, waiting for them to go into motion before answering. << Great, sleepy, gotta start somewhere. You're Vysravnth, aren't you? >> Barely a pause, << Yeah, I thought so. >> A dragons'-eye view of the sands, a large brown hatchling wandering. << I remmeber you. >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth raises his muzzle to the wind, even in the confines of a mindscape, his wonderment at the image of dawn breaking through in a deluge of water and the racing heart of excitement. << What are those colors, how does that /happen/? >> Oh yes, he is one of those. Everything comes with a how and a why, his young voice and eager singsong of wind through reeds. << She is. She is the one who was a harper. Is a harper. Will be one again. >>

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath the gold and silver again, mixing to a strange electrum sky, dances at Rhazekth's question. << It is mist. And the sun. And my own, y'know, mind. >> She's no smooth-talking queen of lore, but a good conversationalist. << Like there aren't real beetles .. well, yeah there are, those trundlebugs, but right now it en't raining or anything, y'know what I mean, >> Turned garrulous by his questions, the imagery fades and it's all Rielsath now. << That's good, yours. I like harpers. >> A hazier, more warped memory of music, clearly gleaned from Lujayn's mind, of entertainment at a Gather.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth is all bass and his voice echoes off the gears that turn, ever so slowly. Broken? Weak? No, but the load is heavy. Each metal tooth clanking as it fits into place. << You were watching me? >> A pause. << Why? >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth is, obviously, fascinated by this - his interest displayed through the quieting of the storms and only faint rustle of insect wings. << I understand. >> he decides, at least for the moment. And into the skein of music that the queen weaves, he begins to pepper the background with conversation that he pulls from Emme's memories. Law, and argument, and then the rustle of book and hide and pages to be studied. << Mine says yours is called Lujayn, and that she is friendly. >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath bounces her sunlight experimentally off of those turning gears, willing them to speed up; she's having an awfully hard time slowing to their thoughtful pace. << Everyone was watching, you're all new here. >> It's not judgemental, just the facts. << I had a good seat. >> As if that justifies spying. << I'm Rielsath, >> She can't wait to be asked any longer, her light sparking where it meets the brown's metal cogs. << When do you get to come outside? >>

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath's light blushes a rosy hue of girlishness, though the silver mist from her rider's mind is predominant. << Yes, she is! And a big sleepyhead, 'cause she stayed up too late last night at the celebration. But weyrlings are up all the time, I think. >> Example: Vysravth and his shifting gears, indicating that the queen might be chatting with more than one dragonet just now. << She studies, then, your Emme. >> Cool breezes flicking over the pages of those books, grains of desert sand still embedded in her mind. She understands the desert. The Gather scene is a happy one, so she embellishes it with color: vivid crimson on the dresses, jewelry glinting bright in midday sun. Dancing.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth shows no signs of acceleration. A emminates from the gears as they strain under the weight of the mechanism they control. Sun sheds light on the grotesque machine the gears are turning. Old, left to decay, to be forgotten for some sinister action, awakened now by Vysravth. << /They/ will not let us out. >>.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Rhazekth tries to play with this silver mist, using his windy sandstorms to swirl it around in glittering display. << Yes, we have spent much of the night talking instead of sleeping. >> he admits, without an ounce of shame. His interest is piqued again that others are already awake. But, it fades into excitement again at the image of books and sand. << She studies /too/ much. >> he clarifies, having already come to this judgement, somehow. He adds his own splashes of color to gather dresses, with deep blue and jewled purple showing up here and there, until finally... << It is time to eat! I am hungry. >> At which point, the youngmind is too consumed with thoughts of red bloody meat to be of much use in conversation.

Dragon> To Rhazekth, Rielsath urges the dragonet towards promising buckets along the back wall. << I ate yesterday, I'm not hungry. Good luck! >> She can't help a farewell, watching him for a moment before scanning the rest of the barracks for open minds, new minds, the lure of youthful conversations.

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath creates images of chains, crystal balls containing faraway stars, bell jars growing beautiful flowers within. << They will. And there's so much out here. >> Already the images of a rising sun and the glittering lake are in her words, but she is careful not to overwhelm this one. << Would you like to see? >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth longs to ensnare those hanging chains in the gears. To hear the satisfying crunch of glass ball as the teeth strangle their starry visions. << When? What right do they have to keep us trapped here? >> The gears suddenly stop, the chains and balls and jars all returned to their places. << Yes, please..but how? >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath doesn't pull away at the violent images. Her intrigue only intensifies, watching the interaction in a lapse of warm silence. << You're hungry so often, right? And then you want to sleep, and they want to make sure you don't hurt yourself, and.. >> She shakes at the chains as well, flinging them away. << It's not /fun/. Here, I can show you. >> Some images are more warped and embellished, some are pure in-the-moment flashbulb memories, but all of them are real despite Rielsath's bent for storytelling. A colorful Gather, the splash and silver coolness of the lake and its waterfall, heaps of snow upon the ground that morph into endless desert dunes.

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth's mind voice is quiet as scenes like a warped family video are flickered on the wall of his mind. << Yes. Ilikethatplace. That is where we belong. E'gin can bring food, and are there not places to sleep? No. I do not think that is their reason as at all. >> The gears being to groan again, clunking awkwardly at first as they begin to turn again.

Dragon> To Vysravth, It's hard for Rielsath to play devil's advocate on this issue, her own love of freedom catching with Vysravth's in a whirl of clouds whipping past and a Weyr far, far below. << Wait. >> The images fade, back to her mind-world where things can be manipulated at will. << You can learn a lot just from where you are, about the dragons and their riders. Then when you come out, you will be better than before. >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth is not placated by this idea at least for a moment, then a sudden switch. The machine picks up speed, slowly accelerating to an appeasing pace. << Yes, there is much to learn, isn't there? >> His low voice rumbling through the scene, << Rielsath, what do you do in the weyr, are you in charge? >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath picks up with the cogs' acceleration, attempting to shine the rust off of them with gritty sand and bright sunlight. << I'm in charge of me, >> She replies stubbornly, not a moment spared for Iovniath's influence. There is a dim image of Tiriana and K'del, working to keep things running smoothly. << They do a lot, but they're just human. And it's /boring/ work, they don't get to have any fun. >> See, being in charge is not so great. << I hunt, and fly wherever I want, and talk to my Lu and have all sorts of adventures. >> Majestic mountaintops. Harsh deserts. Deep, dark oceans, mysterious. She creates a world of extremes, one vista after another, ending with a scattering of lonely, rocky islands. << The whole world. >>

Dragon> To Rielsath, Vysravth gives a burst of feeling. Admiration twisted by jealousy, not yet in control of his emotions. << We want to be in charge of us too. >> Another pause, << Some day we will be. >>

Dragon> To Vysravth, Rielsath projects, << I can show you more later. Lujayn is waking. >> The next image is real, her sun-drenched ledge over the bowl, peering into her own weyr - just glimpses of beaded curtains, light dancing on stone walls as brightly as her own youthful words. << You'll do great, Vysravth. >> Is her last parting comment, the images of her mind fading and focusing elsewhere, replaced by darkness and a faint silvery mist. << Someday. >>

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Logs:A Change of Plans

2011-12-04T19:31:12Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Khorde, Lujayn
| where = Hatching Galleries, High Reaches
| what = (aka: Khorde is Searched) Lujayn and Khorde bump into each other before the hatching goes into full swing. Khorde is dense. Lujayn is in Scary Command Mode.
| when = Day 22, Month 6, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.12
| quote = What are you ''doing'' up here?
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

The hatching galleries are bustling with crowds of incoming weyrfolk and visitors alike, the strong midday sun making the heat in the caverns swelter. The humming of dragons reverberates in the cavernous space, the air dancing with their welcome as much as the heat. Lujayn's arrival is a bit late, her arrival earning her a seat at the end of one of the benches where she tries to avoid getting the hem of her dress stepped on by a group of incoming holder ladies. They giggle and crowd into the tier behind her, all vapid gossip. No eggs have cracked as of yet, but no one is taking the chance of missing the first hatchling - plenty of folk placing last-minute bets call to each other through the humid air. Keeping herself to herself for now, Lu grins. It's a happy day.

Hustle and bustle equates out to a ton of elbowing and jostling for one worn-slightly-ragged, perhaps slightly-used (or abused) islander. Khorde is elbowing his way back, the advantage of his relative height and total lack of inhibition for throwing his skinny weight around the only way he manages to get through a pack of hyen-- er, High Reaches Holderfolk, scooting in to hover over Lujayn's shoulder, scanning the tiers below for seats. He wants a /good/ one, obviously. Only belated do his eyes fall upon the weyrwoman he's closed to, and a half-surprised, "Goldrider Lujayn," blurts out as his version of a greeting.

Lujayn is blessedly free from elbowing and doesn't notice much when one extra body squeezes into the bench behind her. She's still watching the sands, gray eyes bright and calculating. Which egg first? Which candidates will hang back, which will step to the front? They're there in their trademark white sacks, fighting the good fight - or rather the wait - like the folks in the galleries. It's only at the greeting, almost in her ear, does the goldrider nearly startle from her reverie. "Khorde!" She smiles, glad to find herself seated by /some/ good company. "Glad you were able to find a spot. I swear they're bringing half the hold in.." Wait. "What are you doing up here?"

Despite a lingering disgruntlement about the eyes -- is Khorde ever completely free from /issues/, as it were? -- the young man seems to be genuinely pleased to be seated as he is. "What /is/ with all the holderfolk?" His bewilderment carries over into his tone, as he squints about him. The excitement is slowly getting to him, by the antsy shifting in his seat. "Uh." He squints owlish at Lujayn. "Watching the hatching?" He's a little clueless, obviously.

It might be the fervor of the impending hatching sending Lujayn's nerves sparking, but her eyes grow wide at the young man's admission. Twisted around in her seat, facing completely the wrong way now, she earns a pack of whispered giggles from the holder girls. "You've got to get down there, Khorde." The happy smile fades even a bit, true urgency in her voice. Clueless or not, Lu is willing to take the time to beat it into the islander's head.

Uh oh. The death of a happy smile because of /him/? Khorde is stricken, by Lujayn's attitude and the imperative she directs his way. "Uh." Blank stare. "Me?" Squeaky, like a little kid, his voice; "I do?" The holder girls giggle even more by the look on /his/ face. "''Me''? Down ''there''?" Incomprehension stretches over the lengthy expanse of his face.

Are they really having this discussion? Right now? Lujayn's already in Khorde's face thanks to the crowded tiers, but would have gone there anyhow to press her point, her conviction. "Yes, you. On the sands, as a Candidate." The humming grows more intense with every moment; it's all the rider can do to resist the urge to turn around, keeping her eyes locked on Khorde's. "I'll take you to the barracks if you're nervous." Which he certainly appears to be, all squeaky and boyish. "You deserve to be there." From the looks of things, she's one exchange away from bodily dragging him down the stairs to the sands, robe or no.

They are, evidently, having this conversation. Khorde's expression is quickly turning from incomprehension to something very close to -- fear? Fear, from gawky skinny sulky snarkaholic Khorde? This is new. "A candidate?" His voice, rather embarassingly, breaks on the last syllable of the word. Damned hormones. Damned puberty. Damned stressful situations. "Me?" He's still not caught up. "Uh. The barracks?" He shakes his head once, as if to ward off clingy thought-muddlers, and awkwardly moves to stand. "What do I tell them?"

"Rielsath will let them know you're coming," Lujayn assures him, standing halfway as well; it looks like Khorde is liable to fall over on his face from nerves or shock - or a well-timed elbow. "They're already out there. Just grab a robe and go. You know where they are," He's lived there long enough to be in the loop, at least she hopes. One whoop from someone sitting nearer to the sands makes her stand and haul him to his feet, tripping over her dress in the process. Is it an egg? An Impression? She doesn't know and almost doesn't care. "Now. Run."

"Erp." It's not a word, but it's audible, so -- it counts, right? Khorde's wide-eyed at Lujayn for one more long moment, until the uproar of the crowd in reaction to some action down below causes him to stumble over his feet, half-trip, and then haul arse through the crowds like a crazy man. She told him to run: thus, running. He leaves a string of disgruntled people in his wake, including one lady who draws herself up with a sharp, "Why, I've ''never''..." -- it doesn't seem to impact him overmuch, though, as he's ''gone''.

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Logs:Not-searched, again

2011-12-04T19:30:46Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rhaelyn
| where = Lujayn's Weyr, High Reaches
| what = Rhaelyn comes by with a (bribe) thank-you gift. Lujayn doesn't return the favor.
| when = Day 13, month 6, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.09
| quote = Down to brass tacks.
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Funny that there's no one to stop a random girl from tip-toeing around the complex of the leadership. Perhaps because the dragons of the Leaders are on the sands with those slowly hardening eggs. Or, because it's the time of day when many people are either working or enjoying time outside. Then again, who expects a girl to just come nosing around? Rhaelyn is bold like that and here she comes on her naked feet to peer into Lujayn's doorway with a tray balanced in her hands.

Lujayn's back is to the entrance, seated on the couch in front of the hearth. A book in her hands, she sits quietly and it's just as well that Rhaelyn doesn't make a loud appearance. There are more minds looking out for the weyr than just this goldrider, however. At some distant word from Rielsath she folds her page, sets the book carefully on the table and turns to look at the peering girl. "Can I help you?" She asks, not moving from her seat, mildly curious about the islander's presence here.

The wide-eyes of the exile take in the goldrider's quarters, particularly the domesticated plants in their pots and the hearth and all it's decorations. "Oh." Not expecting to be noticed so quickly, Rhaelyn tries to school her expression and not be caught gaping like a fish. "I was hoping you might be in." The tray in her hand is transfered so she's offering it out before her. "I wasn't able to...extend my thanks to you before." It's a challenge not to let her eyes drift to the vases and the cushions or that bookshelf. No, she keeps her attention on the rider.

With Rielsath on the ledge, it would be hard for anyone to approach unnoticed. Lujayn stands with the same relaxed air, apparently enjoying a midday break, approaching the door. She doesn't so much invite Rhaelyn in as motion her forward, stepping up to the stone table that's nearer to the door. "I appreciate it," She smiles, speaking gently as if to a skittish animal. Rhaelyn does look the part, with the controlled eyes and hesitant manners. In the same careful way she reaches for the offered tray, setting it on the table with a cursory glance. "Sorry if I startled you. Rielsath is pretty vigilant these days about people skulking around."

Dragon guard! That would explain it, and the exile should have known as much. Shouldn't she? "She was so still..." Rhaelyn murmurs as she looks back over her shoulder, "I expect her to stop me." More at ease now that she's not being quickly escorted back out, her gaze does sneak around to covet a few of the plush and comfortable items. The tray is released to the goldrider's care and her attention focuses there swiftly, "I didn't mean to intrude on your private time." On the tray are a few pretty items from the kitchen. Sugared fruit in a little cup, a small edge of creamcheese-cake and a refreshing minty drink. "I don't know if the drink is any good, but someone was raving about it."

"She," Lujayn begins, pulling out a chair and nodding for Rhae to do the same. "Isn't sitting up there with a clutch of eggs. Paranoia is only so far in catching, and a tray of food is not usually poisoned. Though here, who knows," A little smirk, of course thinking of Iovniath and her shell-hardened eggs. Noting the single drink, "Why don't you sit down? It's not an easy climb up here. I have a water pitcher and some tea leaves if you want something for yourself. I don't get visitors up here very often. Even if I had been working," She admits, "I probably would spare the time. What's brought you here?" Reaching for the drink, she smooths off drops of condensation while waiting for Rhae's reaction.

The reaction is that Rhae arches her eyebrows and lowers her gaze so that her cruel eyes are masked by the dark lashes. "You speak as though you've had poisoning incidents at the weyr. How very dangerous." The modest look faulters though as the seat is indicated, "I..." It's enough to unbalance her, but not enough for her to show her hand. "It's not such a difficult climb. Why, if you knew more of our cliffs back home." Sneaking a look at the chair first she hesitates and then slowly sinks into it. "The refreshments are for you. But, I could have a nibble to show it's 'safe'."

Lujayn shakes her head, turning the tray to face Rhaelyn. "Not that I know of," Her own eyes dance with the joke. "But it's not nearly as polite for me to stuff myself in front of you without offering to share." A pause. "I do remember the cliffs." The rider sits back with the drink in hand, thinking back... months? A turn? "It seems so long since we found your island."

Making a soft sound of agreement, Rhaelyn nods her head, but admits, "I don't remember everyone who was there helping us." She looks at the treats but doesn't sample anything. Instead there's a thoughtful frown, "Feels like a lifetime." It's not exactly homesickness in her tone, "I can't believe some of our number would want to go back there." As for sharing? Her head shakes, "Please, these are snacks for you. You helped me at the gather."

"It was Taikrin, Z'yi and I," Lujayn spins the tray again, picking up one of the treats pressed onto her with a small sigh. "First on the rocky shores. Khorde fainted and there was a lot of screaming about sea monsters." She tries not to impinge on the dignity of islanders too much, but everything always seems funnier as time passes. Or not, if you're someone who had to deal with the world turning upside-down. Deciding Rhae isn't the type to get all sensitive about it, Lu cracks a grin. "Most of you have done so well since coming here. Adapting, I mean. This is a completely new life for you, and you're thanking /me/ with kitchen sweets." Not that they aren't tasty. Nibbling carefully, the goldrider listens with a sympathetic ear. "I understand homesickness. I've even heard a few people wanting to go back there. You wouldn't?"

"I didn't faint. Or scream." Rhaelyn says, going on the record as being one of the brave souls. Right? "I also didn't wet myself going between." Since that happened. "But, it doesn't seem as though that matters. I could have screamed and cried and pulled at my hair. But that never helps." Tantrums that is. Her smile is impish at the reminder of Khorde fainting. He might not find it nearly as funny surely, but since he's not here, she can enjoy it. "We are working at learning the ways of the mainland. Finding where we might fit. No, I wouldn't go back. Instead I would like to try to fit in better here." Again that coy look through her lashes. "I think if you would not have gotten Ylynna to let me alone, I would have become someone's carry-girl. A drudge, that is what they called it." Slave in otherwords.

"Where do you fit, then?" Lujayn spins the question around as easily as the tray, gaze locked on whatever's beneath those coy lashes. "You would have been seen back to the Weyr, probably with a less favorable experience of Gathers, but I don't think anyone would make you a drudge for borrowing a dress." The flattery, the continued implication of thanks - they make her uneasy and she frowns. "That's a bit dramatic."

"Dramatic? Oh, of course they wouldn't have -really- kept me." The weyr has dibs right? Rhaelyn purses her lips as she answers the last part first, "If you could have heard some of the things...well, it doesn't matter." She scoots to the edge of the chair and meets the goldrider's eye straight on. "I don't know where I fit. I'm still trying to find the right pieces. I think...if I were allowed to stand....it might provide some answers." Heavy handed perhaps, but that's Rhae.

"It's true I didn't know what the situation was, exactly," Lujayn recalls the Gather Incident, setting her drink on the table and folding her hands. "It was clear that something was up, Ylynna was acting like a git, and you needed help." The small sweet is gone as well, leaving no distractions between the two. "It can take time. Try different things, find what you /like/ to do," Eye to eye with the girl at long last, the rider's nerves settle and she returns the gaze with unwavering strength. Getting down to brass tacks is something Lu excels at, and she does it now: "I can't give you permission to stand."

Rhaelyn doesn't explain more about the arrangements that were made for the gather, only a shrug accents the fact that it's done and over with now. Today she's onto other things. A shame that the goldrider isn't giving her what she wants though. Her eyebrows lift slowly, "You can't?" Not backing down, but trying to angle around to get to the meat of the matter, "Why not? Our elders indicated we -should-." She doesn't look away, trying to read in the expression what the voice may not give away.

Lujayn doesn't intend to get into a war of words with Rhaelyn, but her tone is sharper than usual. "You know why, I believe. In addition to your poor behavior in the galleries," A deep breath as a certain someone stirs on the ledge outside. "An egg was damaged and Iovniath's let none of the candidates see her eggs since." Also not about to start explaining why it's so important that candidate-egg interaction occurs, she blocks the protests. "It's a duty to the Weyr to stand," She continues wearily; how many times has that phrase come out of her mouth in recent days? "But not for everyone. And not for you. Not this time." Is it pity in her gray eyes or true regret? The situation is an unhappy one, but it's reality.

Rhaelyn's expression doesn't change in the intensity, as though she could, by sheer will alone, sway the goldrider's mind. "I see." There's not even a change to show any emotion other than thoughtfulness, this wasn't the response she had expected clearly. There's no begging, she has too much pride for that so she gives a slow roll of her shoulders. "As I expected. The weyr is short on forgiveness."

It may be the quietest argument Lujayn has ever found herself in. She's not hauling up defenses or lashing with barbed tongue, merely explaining now. Respect for the girl's self-control cannot sway her. "If that's all, I suggest you leave." Lu's said her piece and there are no frills to be added, no cause for her to rally. It doesn't matter if Rhaelyn agrees or not, at least not to her. For all the effort and attempts to manipulate, the girl might as well have poisoned her treats.

Rhaelyn breaths out a little sniff for the dismisal. She purposefully takes her time in gathering herself up. A little brush at her leg to flick some lint that dare settle upon her, a slow stretch of her shoulders before her hands ease to the arms of the chair. "Well, there's always more. But I won't waste your precious time." Feeling the stamp of disaproval the rider is putting on her clearly. Her own eyes sweep over the goldrider, reminding herself that the other is as human as she is. Then she's on her feet and walks out, leaving her pretty poison pastries behind.

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Logs:Land and sea

2011-12-04T19:30:26Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Celadion, Lujayn
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches
| what = The early birds find no worms. People, unlike certain bodies of water, are not lazy. Lu gives Celadion a knot to wrestle with.
| when = Early morning of day 7, month 6, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.07
| quote = Your lake is lazy.
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Sure, most people are just getting up and at their day, but Celadion is not only up, but he's apparently at work. He stands up to his knees in the water, casting out an old fashioned line from a rough bit of stick. A soft humming floats back up towards the shore, the song likely unfamiliar to weyrfolk rather than exiles.

It's another beautiful morning at High Reaches, though Lujayn is not one of the few early-morning bustlers. She sits higher up on the shore with a bucket of oil on one side and a pile of riding straps on the other, hunched over her meticulous work with single-minded purpose. It's slow going, inch by inch examining every buckle and crease in the wherhide, scrubbing out grit and noting especially weak spots for repair. After a minute the rider leans back to stretch her cramped shoulders, sighing deeply. Tired gray eyes catch on Celadion, a lone figure standing partways out in the lake, then narrow in curiosity. She sets the oil down and takes up a clean rag, approaching the shore to collect rinsewater. "Any bites?" Tired but polite; Lu tries to smile.

It's not as though the sound of someone else down the shore was unexpected, more that the young man was so fixated on his humming and day dreaming while watching the bobby float along the lazy surface. So, when the woman calls out to him, he startles, whirling towards the voice with a sort of panic in his eyes before recovering. "Ah...not much." Covering any embarrassment with a small smile, "I did get a couple small ones, but had to throw them back. Your lake is very lazy."

"It's a lake, I think man-made," Lujayn sums up the predicament with a sympathetic shrug, looking out over the morning stillness, the reflections of a rising sun. "Not your wild ocean." Her tone carries a bit of envy to it. A beat or two of silence, wringing out the cloth and applying it to the places where oil simply won't do on her straps, Lu looks back up from her crouched position. "Did you make that rod yourself?" It's hard to tell whether she's sarcastic or genuinely interested. Mornings do that to some people.

"Right. -Lazy-." Celadion says again, for all the excuses that the woman makes for it. "Men shouldn't pretend to know the will of water and tame it. Look how sad it is here...still. Quiet. Dull. Even the fish don't seem to thrive." Because surely no matter how big the catch would be from the lake, it's fished by dragon and man a like right? The envy though, that makes his eyebrows lift in question, enough to ask, "Did you once live by the sea?" It could explain things. And her question to him makes him chuckle. "Yes. I did. They are easy enough to make. The skill is in the cast and...reading the water."

Lujayn quickly shakes off any animosity. It's too early for getting into petty squabbles, anyhow. "Not made for fishing," Again, she kneels to scrub at the leather, taking out whatever frustrations are running through her mind on the innocent straps, short on words. "The Fort area is close to rivers," Lu sits back, careful to keep her straps out of the dirt. "But up here the ocean is closer than you think. I've spent a lot of time at the shore.." Regarding Celadion with more openness, she continues, "..and I keep hearing your elders talking about 'reading the water'. What's that all about?" The question isn't posed rudely, curiosity getting the better of the junior weyrwoman and pushing the query rather informally.

Celadion watches the scrubbing of the straps as he draws in his line carefully. There's a skill in those rough hands, the way fingers don't get tangled in the line looped in and held taunt. "You could take me to see this place. Couldn't you? Rivers. I have heard they are as powerful as the sea. But, it seems like a..." He censors himself, "Story." Still his dark eyes stay on the straps, "What are you doing to those things? Are they that dirty?" While she regards him, he stands still, dressed in clothes that are still the old style of exiles, worn and rough and his hair still uncut, he's one of the few still holding tight to those old ways. "Reading the water? It's how you can tell if the weather is going to change. If the fish will bite. If your luck is good. But it takes a long time to learn to see it right." There's sadness in his tone, a suggestion that he no longer has such a time to learn these things.

Lujayn nods, gaze distant in reminiscence. "Rivers are powerful, always moving. Their floods are dangerous. But eventually they all lead to the sea.. they lend their power to it, I suppose." That's an admission she's willing to make. "I could take you sometime, yes. To the river or the sea. So many people act like they're imprisoned here, but all they need to do is ask. Truly." She shakes her head, one hand running absently over the newly oiled straps. "These are for my dragon, her harness. We have to inspect them to look for weak spots, to rub out grit that could corrode the buckles. If we didn't, I guarantee you'd see people falling out of the sky left and right." A little roll of her eyes. Because some people are cocky enough to trust in their straps and not hold on themselves. "It's worn here, see," Holding up a particularly cracked leather joint, somewhere where a brass ring connects several straps. "I'll need it repaired before I fly with these, just in case." A genuine smile this time, glad to share knowledge. "So. Can this lake tell you anything about your luck today, or is it still too lazy?"

Celadion yearn for it, with his expression and his voice: The sea. His hands still on the line, he looks at Lujayn, "I would like that. The gather....there were too many people. I..." There's an admission of weakness he's not ready to voice. Better to lean into that promise being dangled, "When?" Perhaps she might show mercy and actually go -now- the tone suggests. But she's working on straps? "You use those to keep yourself on...her?" He may have held other theories about the need for those leather straps. "Yes, I see. And you do all the work on them? The stablehands do all the work for those runner-beast gear. I think that would be a fulfilling job." Vague though, talking about either working with the leather, or working with the beasts. "MMmm, the lake is weary. The dragons and the men take from it and no one gives thanks or asks forgiveness. You are lucky the lake cannot take as the Sea. There would be a price I'm sure."

"It's our responsibility to make sure they're in good repair, but the tanners make the actual repairs." Lujayn quirks a brow. "You want to try holding onto a dragon's neck a hundred feet up in the middle of a turn? Especially on Rielsath, I wouldn't go flying without straps anywhere outside of the Weyr." Her comment suggests that other dragons might be more careful in flight, less likely to accidentally dislodge their riders with joyride maneuvers. "When there's time," The junior weyrwoman doesn't deny him the hope, but neither can she promise a punctual schedule. Instead, she listens to his thoughts on the lake. "Asking forgiveness? From a lake?" What an odd concept. "Isn't that the way nature works, that we maintain it and it provides for us? Orchards, fields, the like."

The dodge from the dragonrider to the date of this trip outside the weyr makes Celadion's mouth tighten. "Right. Another of your dragonriders said the same thing to me. Said they'd take me back to see the fate of our island. I'm sure, 'when there is time' is not likely to materialize." There's anger in his quiet words. The talk of straps is ignored now, he'll not be flying anywhere so it doens't matter. It takes him a moment to cool down enough for civil conversation, using the silence to cast out again in a series of graceful flicks of the long line until the little feathery end settles upon the water to tempt some passing fish. "I don't know. You maintain the land and I don't know much about fields and orchards. I know you don't tame or maintain the sea. Do you...maintain this lake?" Not her in particular, but any weyrfolk.

"I didn't mean your island," Lu is equally tight-lipped, raising some hairs. After a moment she moves on, likewise needing time to cool down for the pleasant exchange to continue. "The sea near the hold, or Fort's river. But not your island. I'm sorry." And it's hard to doubt her sincerity, the woman's tone heavy with regret and empathy. "I never liked being so far from home." Avoiding his stormy black eyes to survey the lake, Lujayn tries to answer with all she knows. "I know long ago the falls were diverted to feed the lake so it doesn't stagnate," She looks up to the diving cliffs where the freshwater splashes down eternally. "And fishers bring some of their smaller catches in to populate it.. that would be why your prizes were so tiny. But Rielsath says there are bigger fish at the bottom, and lots of plant life has taken hold that we can't see." She's comfortable enough to look back up at Celadion, no longer defensive. "It's a different world. I don't think I can fully understand it, ever."

There's still heat in Cela's expression, anger at being captive, and helplessness too. There's no reply to the assurance that she will take him 'somewhere' but it's easy to tell that he's not holding his breath that anything will come for the request. A man who has had his spirit beaten down lurks under the hard outer shell. "Fish that are trapped as well." At least that idea makes him smile in dark humor. "And I think you have to live that life to understand it. Have you met Rilka?" And then he realizes that he's not given introductions. "I'm not used to...giving my name still. I'm Celadion, son of Elders Harton and Velles." Elder names she would know, right?

Lujayn maneuvers around the angry exterior, letting go of the subject until he's ready to talk about it again, if at all. "It is what it is," She concludes, by no means defending the lake: just a lake. "Fish in any lake could be called 'trapped,' but because we put them here it's a problem..?" Maybe another minefield to avoid. Introductions tend to be pretty safe, so the goldrider moves on. "I don't think I've met Rilka, no.. or if I have I don't remember. These days it feels like all I do is introduce myself to newcomers. Sorry for skipping that part," Lu makes a jest at her own expense, "I'm Lujayn, Gold Rielsath's. Junior Weyrwoman." Parent names are generally of little consequence in Weyrs; since Celadion's given his she may as well return the favor. "Daughter of E'syn and Jaia, Fort riders." The greeting ritual is oddly comforting to her, and the up-down emotion of the conversation begins to rise again.

"I guess not. Not a problem that is. Fish are for eating." Celadion says it with amusement, "It hardly seems fair that I point out the unfairness in the life of 'fish'." A white-flag of sorts. "Lujayn. Ah. Well met. That is the right way to say it?" When she in turn gives her heritage he admits, "I thought you might know my parents. You spoke of talking with the elders. I'd like to know what some of those conversations are. What our fate may be." This might not be a safe line of conversation either, but one never knows.

"As far as I can tell, the Hold is not welcoming islanders at thie time," Lujayn's voice is undeniably irritated at those in question, even bitter. "The elders have agreed, as you probably know, that it is the duty of their people to stand for Iovniath's clutch. Jaques and others have volunteered to stand, and more have been searched - that is, selected for candidacy - by our dragons." No specifics are given as to the content of meetings between elders and Weyrleaders, but a summary is safe enough for her tastes. "There are all kinds of opinions flying around. Whether or not to stay here, set out on their own, return to the island. Any opinion you sympathize with, you could find just by asking around. And since you're asking me," Lu adds unabashedly, "I think things will be reconsidered after the eggs hatch." And in the end it comes down to time, more time. When there's time.

Celadion frowns at the news about the setback, "Is that only Highreaches Hold? Interesting, isn't it? That this sort of thing just happened." His eyebrows lift to go along with the skeptical note in his voice. "It smells like fishguts to me. But what do I know?" As for the hatching, the eggs, the dragons and future riders, he frowns, "I have thought of asking to stand. Everyone is talking about it of course." The barracks are overflowing right? "I guess it's more waiting. I wish...there were other options."

Lujayn purses her lips. "It didn't just happen without cause. Some ruckus at the Gather was all it took, and the missing necklace.. it was wrong of them to immediately blame the islanders. But I have no say in their affairs." Rolling up the straps neatly, as they've been scrubbed and polished beyond the necessary daily care. "Would you like to?" She asks offhandedly, "It's your choice, but also a duty to the Weyr." Even if Island and Weyr are worlds apart, duty is an idea that spans the distance. "What would you choose to do? There are many options, once.. well, hopefully soon." She doesn't have all the answers, unfortunately, but many educated guesses. "I think some people are worried about tossing you out into an unfamiliar world. We want to make sure you get your bearings good and fixed before gallivanting off about Pern."

"And you, that is, the weyr, would rather believe the holders claims? We are a pack of thieves in the weyr's eyes?" Celadion is strangely not on guard or offended by this thought, but it does make him see his care givers/captors in a different light. He starts to move forward, to help with wrapping up those long straps but chuckles when he gets ahold of one edge and finds himself at odds with what to /do/ to help her. "I think I would like to. My parents say it's the right thing to do. Lately I am having trouble doing what is 'right'." As she speaks of tossing them out into the word he looks at her with amusement, "Well, I have heard some different rumors about that."

Lujayn looks more thoughtful. "Well, that can be arranged." Her proposal is apparently more serious than a hypothetical question, nodding in thanks for the help - at least Celadion is keeping the straps out of the sand. "No one's tossing anyone out," She says firmly, setting her neatly folded end on cleaner grass and moving to another portion. "Just fold them up with the buckles out, until you get to the middle ring," Teaching is something that comes easily enough, a blessed distraction from stress or political knots. "It's not an exact science, but it keeps them from dragging all over the place."

Celadion can't help but look torn, the balance between worlds has been one that he has toed all these months without change. He leaves his rod and line against the rock and turns his attention to helping with the straps. Instead of an answer, because it's sticking in his throat he asks, "What sort of things do you do when you're not doing....this." A chin-bob towards the straps. He sneaks a look over at the goldrider in hopes that she's too distracted to notice the attention lingering on her.

Lujayn is busy with the straps, true, but her answer isn't distracted. "During an Interval we still drill at least once every sevenday," She begins, "There's a lot of dragon care involved, but beyond that the duties between goldriders and other colors can be pretty different. We're more involved with the running and upkeep of the Weyr, making sure things are going smoothly with the tithes and everything the Headwoman organizes. Other riders are assigned to duties like hunting, watchriding, transport duty, errands or sweeps.." She ticks them off like clockwork, born and raised to the knowledge. "There are more drills when Thread falls, but that won't be any time soon. Certainly not in our lifetimes." Saying nothing about the Comet Pass, that fluke.

Celadion shakes his head, "No." He folds the straps carefully, "That's not exactly what I meant." Even though he's listened to her remarks in relative silence, if not a little troubled. "I was asking what -you- like to do. What you do when you're not doing these dragonrider things. Surely you have as much free time as anyone else does. Right?"

"Oh," Taken by surprise, Lujayn slows her hands for a moment in thought. "I guess it's like having a child, but I wouldn't know about that directly. Once you Impress, it changes.. I spend a lot of time with Rielsath, even if I'm doing other things like reading or swimming. We fly outside the Weyr for fun, go exploring, take others to see the landscape." See, she hasn't forgotten. "I'm as likely to be in the living cavern cooling my heels at lunchtime as any other person, sure. It's the same, but different."

"Like having a child hm? That doesn't seem so bad. I'd like to foster half dozen of our island children." Celadion says it with sadness, it's obviously not a path he's been able to follow so far. When she mentions the things she enjoys, he can't help but crack a smile and look at her, "I will hold you to this outing." It's a flimsy threat isn't it? "Do you...hunt? You mentioned that before briefly, about the hunting."

Lujayn bundles up the folded straps, giving them a cursory check for extra sand before slinging them over her shoulder. "Hunting? Not often. Our herdbeasts for the dragons are supplied by the beastcraft, and if they're managed well we don't run into shortages. But it's good practice, so everyone gets a rotation." The goldrider stands and dusts her knees, ready to move on to her duties as the sun climbs over the horizon and the Weyr stirs. "Children and dragons, sometimes I can't tell the difference. You'll think about my question?"

"That's too bad. I was hoping someone friendly could show me how to use one of those bows." Celadion shrugs at the last, another minor disappointment. Seeing that she's about to go off to other things he too returns to the discarded rod and line. "I will think about it. Yes. And you will...keep me in mind for a trip beyond?" Perhaps his answer will hinge on that particular experience.

"I didn't say I didn't know how," Lujayn needles the islander, though her expression is light and not petulant in the least. "A hunting trip, how about, since you're keen on it. I'll come find you when my rotation comes around - or you can find me if you make your mind up before that." There's a silent acknowledgement of the reciprocity in the deal, a trip outside of the Weyr for a candidate's duty, but nothing more than a knowing smile. "Have a good day, Celadion."

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Logs:Fun and Freedom

2011-12-04T19:30:11Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Elgin, Iolene, Lujayn
| where = Living Caverns, High Reaches
| what = Some early morning introspection. Catching up after the gather and trying not to spill klah over duty rosters, among more personal topics.
| when = Day 20, month 5, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.02
| quote = Some time ago her response would have been different.
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Outside a gloomy sky hangs over high reaches, but with no rain falling people are bustling in and out of the caverns. It is breakfast time and people who were working outside of the caverns through the night have started to trek inside, while the caverns are starting to wake. This makes for a tremendous amount of traffic in the living caverns. Elgin has managed to find one quiet corner in the caverns. A forgotten table tucked away in the back of the room. He is lesuringly waking up this morning, mug of klah sipped, empty breakfast plate before him.

Lujayn is at home in the bustle, rubbing elbows and exchanging chatter while making her way through the crowd without a hitch. Better to go with the tide than fight against it. Either it's her mission to get to know new faces or that she tires quickly of idle talk; she sidles her way to what seems like the only quiet table of the lot. "Morning Elgin," The goldrider has a stack of papers under one arm and a mug clasped in her opposite hand, both of which find ample room on the table as she greets the candidate. "Did you enjoy the rest of the gather?" Word has no doubt spread about the alleged theft - that doesn't seem to be what she's needling at just yet. "I heard some people were still stirring up nonsense."

It takes a second for Elgin to realize who is before him in his waking stupor, he shoots into an upright position and salutes the goldrider, "Morning Goldrider Lujayn." Is offered before he takes a moment to consider the rest of the conversation, "Yes, well, I think in every situation if something happens human nature is to blame those whom we don't understand." He assumes she's talking about the searching of the candidates and islanders' belongings for a necklace. "Then in all groups of people there are both good and bad, so it is possible." The corners of his mouth tug downward as he studies the woman. "Did you enjoy the rest of the gather?"

"True. Break up one disagreement and folks will find something else. Have I misunderstood you?" She teases, wiping sleep from gray eyes. "But really, I did enjoy myself after a time. It felt like I was doing more to keep people from hedging at each other than actually relaxing. Duties first, after all." She looks down to the papers, shuffling through them briefly. "Speaking of which, I have a few rosters here to distribute. Seems a few people are stuck on cleaning the latrines." It's not really a table topic, but the rider continues unabashed. "No one's getting up to any real trouble, I hope. Other than the holders, I - that is, we - you're comfortable?" Is it early for twenty questions? Nah.

Two months is a long time to go underground for; to be under the proverbial radar and to go relatively unnoticed except in a conspicuous absence. Particularly for Iolene. But grief and mourning can do that to a person, cause them to disappear without warning. However she's managed to slip just beneath notice of those who know her best, the exiles, something's changed in her two-month morose demeanor as the thin blonde ducks in from the bowl with the glitter of the early morning's mist clinging to her hair. There's an at-peace smile on her face for one and a sudden levity to her stance. Perhaps it's too early in the morning for other exiles to inhabit the living caverns, making it all the more easier to pick out a familiar face in the crowd, and it's to Elgin that Io gravitates, with long, lithe strides, unhesitating in making a fervent, joy-filled declaration, punctuated by a girlish twirl with arms flung to the ceiling, "Did you see? Did you see? I saw the /ocean/ at the Gather," but it's only after she's spoken and spun, interrupting whatever conversation that's going on, that the presence of Lujayn pings in her periphery and a sudden apologetic look flies wide those dark blue eyes, comically shifting her features into a silent 'meep' look to both.

The look that crosses Elgin's face, the drawing the brows but the knowing grin, state that he knows what it is like to spend most of the day trying to put out fires than enjoying a party, "Sounds like me at the Turnday celebration here." It was a while ago but Elgin is sympathetic to the goldriders plite. "Am I getting one, latrine duty that is?" Elgin comments at the rosters, he looks confused but his tone holds no protest. His frown deepens and his brows furrow deeper, "Comfortable? What do you mean..." But his thoughts are ended abruptly as Iolene waltzes in. The boy is moved to complete silence as he studies the girl when she approaches. He seems hesitant to speak to her, lest he extinguish the girls mood. Have a moment he smiles slightly, "Yah, I saw the ocean. It was nice." His smile grows, "Goldrider Lujayn this is Iolene." He says in way of introduction, and waving at an empty seat for the islander. "Care to join? We were just speaking about latrine duty." There is a teasing grin.

"Looks like rest day for you, unless you want to go asking for work. And I meant," Lujayn shakes her head absently. "I was wondering if it's getting any easier, being here." Then: a girl who apparently loves the ocean. There's no offense in Lujayn's expression, an indulgent smile and the quirk of a brow all that's needed to sum up her reaction to Iolene's enthusiastic greeting. "It's a beautiful place, the hold." Indicating an empty seat, she sweeps a few errant papers into a neater pile to make room for the islander. "Did they take you to the shore? I'm afraid our lake doesn't really compare to the ocean if that's what you're used to. You're going to have

Logs:Exile Field Trip

2011-12-04T19:30:10Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Emmeline, Khorde, Lujayn, Nathalia, Rhaelyn
| where = Mountain Meadow, High Reaches
| what = Lujayn escorts a few people outside of the Weyr for some fresh air. General relaxation ensues. Weaving baskets, picking flowers, rock climbing. Rielsath is a KRAKEN FROM THE SEA, ARRRGH-
| when = Day 4, month 6, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.06
| quote = Lalala indeed.
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

''A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks.''

The shadows are growing longer across a meadow nestled in a valley near to High Reaches, though the time can't be much past noon. Lujayn is busily unbuckling straps from an impatient Rielsath, one eye on the mixed group she's brought with her for a breath of fresh, flowery air. It's warm and comfortable, the colors of wildflowers apparent at every turn. Lu grins happily as her dragon moves into one of the mountainous shadows to loll with a contented croon, then turning to her 'cargo.' "I thought you'd like this spot. I used to come here a lot - good to see it hasn't changed much."

Once her feet can touch the glorious ground again, Emme looks near ready to kiss the ground. Except, she doesn't. Instead her face just lights up at the abundance of color that springs in every direction. "-Wow-." Yes, it's another exile moment. And she is, temporarily at least, rooted in place trying to decide just which way to skip first. "I hear a stream. Is there a stream too?"

Half-tumbling from his unprofessional dismount, Khorde takes a step or four to put himself to rights. The gangly Healer's gofur takes a deep breath, almost belated, inhaling the soft grace of flower-scented air. He moves off to wander, a child's enthusiasm and articulated wonder softening the harsh lines of his face. There's a somewhat-distracted grin back to Lujayn, as infectious as anything that he could ever offer, but Emme's observation of possible-water has him swerving back towards his frenemy with a craning view here and there, trying to spy the so-called stream.

Nat seems a little sad to be on the ground again, but there's a contented sigh for the scene that rolls on ahead. "Wow Lujayn, I really can't thank you enough for inviting me." It certainly beat cleaning up more messes left over from dragon meals well at least it smelled prettier anyway. She watches the Islanders with a muted amusement, realizing this was probably the first time they had really seen a whole lot out side the weyr. A soft smile remains on her lips as she studies the meadow.

"Over by the rocks, closer to the mountains," Lujayn confirms, more interested in clambering up the rough slope at the moment. The flowers will always be there, and they even crop up from time to time amongst the rocks that give purchase for attaining that beautiful view of her meadow. "Figured since there's a while until the next gather, you'd appreciate a change of scenery. I know I do." She admits readily, pausing to seat herself on a sun-warmed rock. "It feels so far away.. if you can forget the mountains." As she looks over her shoulder to eye the Reaches' signature spires, the rider relaxes visibly. "I made sure you had your chores done first, don't worry about that," She tacks on with an air of responsibility. "I'd be in hot water if we left carcasses lying around or firestone waiting to be sorted."

Emmeline even spares a grin for Khorde when he meanders her way to try and spot the stream; he's taller, so she waits for his assessment until Lujayn makes mention of where it is. And then, nudges her cohort into following the goldrider up the slope as she does the same. Having spent most of their short lives outdoors, perhaps it's a balm for the little harper to get a chance to roam free in a sense. She's not even babbling! Just smiling and seeming rather peaceful as warmed rocks are reached and she can squint against the sun to see closer to the rocks. And, obviously, pick some flowers. At least one of which finds its way behind an ear.

"Oh." Khorde's comment follows after Emmeline's nudge -- he tags behind Lujayn, falling into the rhythm of tackling the rocky terrain with a certain deft experience in his movement. These aren't even wet with water! Child's play. He still cranes his neck about here and there as if looking for the stated stream, but -- obviously /he's/ not finding it. "It's so peaceful up here." He sprawls nearby the goldrider's location, loosing a grousy grumble as a chunk of rock digs into his lower back. He fishes it out and tries the sprawl again, this time basking. "Smells better'n the infirmary, that's for sure." Not that Khorde doesn't love his job -- he even looks guilty after he says it, shading his gaze around at the girls as if to ascertain if any of them, y'know, actually heard that.

Nat offers a laugh. "True enough, seems like there's always something to be done around the place. Certainly gives you an appreciation for all the people who do the work when there aren't candidates about." While the rocks seem like an interesting challenge, the smith seems content where she is at the moment, and plops down in the flowers, stretching. Sure there will be grass stains later but a little dirt and green never hurt anyone. She watches the two Islanders and laughs at Khorde's statement about the infirmary smells.

Rielsath cranes her neck to watch the progress of three little humans towards her mountainside retreat before settling quietly, of a similar mind to simply be, to enjoy and relax. "I remember /that/," She replies emphatically to Khorde's statement. "Brewing numbweed? No thanks," Not particularly concerned with complaints at this point - it would take an odd character to prefer chores to this place. "With the eggs, we have to stay close to the Weyr. Luckily there's no huge journey needed to find a place like this." She collects a few small pebbles in her hand, letting them skitter one by one into the tall grasses. Another silent moment follows, watching Emmeline's flowers, Nat's quiet observations and the sprawling of Khorde. There aren't many places to be found where one can loll around on the ground - unless you're a dragon, in which case the world is open for such a purpose.

Her lips quirk at Khorde's infirmary complaint, but Emme makes no comment about it at all. If anything, she seems to agree with the sentiment, a quiet noise from the back of her throat having to suffice as agreement there. And once she's plucked flowers of every color she can find nearby she sets them down on a flat spot, moving next towards tall grass to collect a those few that meet her apparent requirements. "I still haven't seen them. The eggs, that is. Except for once at the beginning. How do they look now?" she wonders, twisting and bending a few stalks of grass into a pattern that looks like weaving.

Indulgent, Khorde rolls on the warmth of the rock with a blissful expression about his face. So idyllic. Even Nathalia laughing at him doesn't break his good mood ... for now. "Yeah, numbweed..." His voice trails off, as if he's particularly reticent regarding anything negative in this moment in time. "Well, /I/ could stay out here." He may or may not shoot Emmeline a dark look; okay, so maybe negativity only extends to *certain* things. Like candidates. Entitled bit.. "Hard, I'd think," he can't help but quip, before rolling off as if in anticipation of some sort of blow aimed in his direction.

"They are getting close to /hatching/ aren't they?" Nathalia asks with a small sigh, picking a few flowers. She glances up to Emmeline a sad look on her face, At Khorde's comment she nods. "Yeah pretty much. Did you get to pick a favorite when you did get to see them?" It was not fair that they could not egg watch, but there was nothing to change it either. Such thoughts though did not seem to fit in such a place of serenity. She offers a shrug "I wonder if I would be able to get a few bits of those shells for some jewelry pieces." She muses.

"I haven't been a regular visitor to the galleries," Lujayn sighs, almost as wistful as a candidate. "You've got that part right, Khorde. They'll be looking more like real eggs now than at the beginning, with colors and shells as hard as you please." Rest time over, she continues the easy climb with a nod to Nathalia. "The dragonhealers have been giving positive reports." She watches Emmeline weave the grass as she passes with a curious gaze, straying closer to get a better look to see. "You're sure you want to be a Harper? That looks great."

Emmeline gives Khorde a rude gesture of course; she doesn't bother to wait and see if she got a dark look. The tone of his voice says he deserves it regardless. And she is always willing to oblige! "I remember seeing a couple I thought were fascinating. Don't think I could describe them now cause it's been so long." she admits, sounding a bit sheepish. Her grass weaving, if it could really be called weaving in the Pernese form of the word, appears to be taking on the shape of a basket by the time Lujayn asks about it; as swift and easy as Khorde was with climbing, she is with this. "Hmm? Oh! This is one of the things I had to teach the kids. But we used reeds for it. We all know how to do this. And with grass it's *so* much easier. You want one? I was just going to use it to hold the flowers."

"I'd think they'd have to be," Khorde replies to Nathalia's close-to-hatching comment. "It's been... forever." For-ev-er. A lifetime, in Khorde-lingo. The sulky boy doesn't seem likely to carry on his sulk further, though, ignoring the question of favorite-egg instead to peer over at Emmeline's weaving with a snort. "A baby could do that." See? She even said it herself! He plucks a few strands nearby, and starts a spiral himself, surprisingly slender fingers moving with deft motion. Showing off? Khorde? /Never/. He obviously doesn't see what retort he's set himself up perfectly for.

There's a smile for the dragon healer's reports at least. "That's good, I know everyone's worried, I think I heard the Weyr leader say there won't be any egg touching either." The smith notes. She smiles looking over to the Harper's weaving, and just studies Khorde a moment when he speaks. "Would you mind showing me how?" the girl asks the pair in a friendly tone. "Never did any weaving before. It would be a neat thing to try." She may even try it with metal later who knows?

Lujayn has to chuckle at the rivalry, watching the pair of basket-weavers exchange amicable insults. "If it's as easy as you say, maybe you could teach me instead." Lu offers to either of them at almost the same moment as Nathalia, venturing easily into the wild grasses to find long stalks of her own. "It takes forever so they don't come out looking like half-formed sea monsters," She says in jest at the old islander myth, lighthearted. "Dragons, I mean. Not baskets. Though I guess if you didn't pay attention, the basket might look something malformed.."

Rhaelyn has arrived.

"For a baby, you sure have an ugly mug." Emme replies sweetly, raising an eyebrow at Khorde when he stats weaving as well. She sees an opening, so she takes it. At least she looks amused rather then serious about the faux insult. "I don't see why we couldn't show you." The words are for both of the not-exiles, and so the Harper starts out by glancing around for an approprate piece of grass and plucks it out to show them. "The grass we need to use should be a bit thicker then most, or else it will break instead of bend with the weaving." The old sea monster myth makes her eyes sparkle, of course. "We used to take the kids out to a separate island for a campout when they get old enough, and scare them with sea monster stories. And then Xoami, or Devaki... or even Iolene sometimes would crash the party and pretend to be the sea monster."

Khorde glowers at Emme, belatedly, as if -- realizing what just happened there. The girl is too smart for her (read, KHORDE'S) own good. "Emmeline's the teacher," he states vaguely, to Lujayn and Nathalia alike, gesturing over to the Harper. "Sea only knows that one." Grumble, grumble. What? She's... she's... she's Emmeline. It's his life's duty to bitch about her. "Sea-monsters." Something that Lujayn brings Khorde back to the other conversation, and he snorts. "Shimana would like it better if they were sea-monsters, I think." Only belatedly -- /very/ belatedly -- does he guiltily look up, as if realizing what a major gaffe /that/ just was. Uh. He's dumb! He's just a sweet dumb boy! Insert vapid smile -- HERE.

There's a grin at the near synchronized question. And a mischievous look to the gold rider. Could this turn into a basket weaving competition? Who knows. At Emme's instruction though, the Smith herself starts looking for some good grasses finding a bunch of suitable stalks she drops down next to the harper, with a slight snicker for her use of wit, she's used to grumps by this point though. "I dunno Rielsath does a pretty good impression of a lake monster." She teases with a grin for Lujayn.

Four of the meadowgoers are sprawled at various points over the rocky slope of the meadow, enjoying midafternoon sun and a lesson in what sounds to be elementary basket weaving. Rielsath takes up the better part of the meadow's mountain-shaded high point, watching the group with sleepy eyes and a twitching tail, making sure no one gets lost on the pleasure outing. Lujayn compares her stalks to those Emmeline picks and decides they're thick enough, arranging them in the manner she thought she saw Emme use, all the while taking in stories of their pranks. "A role any mischievous dragon would be glad to play, the sea-monster to your screaming villagers." Going along with the joke, she folds her legs more comfortably and looks downhill to see if the rest of the party is accounted for.

It may very well only be the exiles that would even understand Khorde's gaffe there, and it certainly causes Emme to burst out laughing. Enough so that she falls back into the grass with an arm over her stomach a moment until she can pull herself back together. "Wonder if we could manage to make a sea-monster basket as gag gift for her. Oh that would be hilarious!" she decides, still giggling to herself by the time everyone sits back down with some grass to use. "Okay, first we lay out the strips in a grid pattern. Like this..." Plucking random grass just for demonstration, she starts laying out a bunch of strips vertically. And then takes more pieces, one at a time, to go over and under in an 'every other' pattern horizontally across the vertical strips.

Not unusual for Rhaelyn to slip away from the group and wander around by herself rather than insert herself into the conversation at hand. Always within the dragon's watchful eye, she picks her way through the tall grasses. In her own time she circles back to the others, her hands loaded down with various types of flowers. "Do mainlanders have stories of sea-monsters too? Other types of monsters?" Settling down she gives a smile to the others but tries not to intrude too much on the conversation at hand.

Khorde squints from Lujayn to Nathalia and back again, his expression somewhat-- dubious. Dragons, sea-monsters, /really/? Something dawns on his expression, as if maybe -- hey, dragons COULD be sea monsters, right? Maybe Shimana was *right* all along. Scary. But then Emmeline's laughing, and Khorde's sulking, and the world is as it is supposed to be. He nods absently to the returning Rhaelyn, and continues with his idle weaving -- apparently the bottom of some kind of circular grass-basket. It looks... pretty jacked.

There's lessons to be learned and friendly rivalries to be tested as Nat cracks her knuckles, grinning to Lu, "Too bad there can't be a festival or something at the weyr, to kind of remind them of home." Nat mentions thoughtfully. Well the good parts of their home anyway, the things they didn't want to forget. Maybe someday when wounds were less fresh. Following Emme's instruction she lays down the grid, accidentally snapping a few stalks her and there, discarding them ruefully when they break. "Sharding fragile things aren't they." She looks to Rhaelyn with a smile. "Well Wherries and Runners are pretty much always classed as monsters to me." She jokes, before eyeing the basket Khorde seems to be working on with a whistle of appreciation.

"Nothing so all-encompassing as sea monsters on a small island, but everyone knows to watch out for tunnelsnakes in caves and felines out in the wilds. The real monsters are enough for us, I think." Lujayn scoots to make room for Rhaelyn, "Though anyone with imagination can make up scary creatures around the campfire." She lays out her grasses carefully, speaking as she works with meticulous fingers. "The entire Weyr's going to be decorated with flowers, I think," Casting an eye over what Rhaelyn's collected in addition to the bouquets of Nat and Emme. "Or else the barracks are going to be the best-smelling room in the place." Her smile for a prank on Shimana is mild at best, having experienced some of the elder's ire firsthand. "If she hears too much of it, Ri might decide for herself to act like a sea monster for a few days. Because it would be so fun to cause general mayhem at the lake shore every time someone tried to have a swim."

Emmeline tries not to purse her lips or otherwise show signs of suppressed amusement at the most jacked circular basket -evar-, so is totally grateful (scary!) for Rhaelyn's arrival. Enough so that the other exile gets a smile and nod as a hello instead of the usual wary glance. "We had tunnelsnakes too, in the cave system." she gives a shudder for those. "But felines... I haven't ever seen one of those." Placing the sample grid out in the middle, she glances over at the others work with an encouraging smile. "Mostly the idea for this, the base, is to keep everything straight. Parallel." Having always been a huge suckup, obviously, Emme doesn't have many bad memories of Shimana's wrath. But, she -does- distinctly recall Ri's mischeivous side and it's like a dangerous little light goes off in the harper's brain. "Well now, wouldn't that be amusing to keep people on their toes." Lalalalala.

"Felines?" Rhaelyn looks up from the bundle of flowers, plucking off a few long stems of grass to wrap around the stems. "Are they fierce animals? Can you tame them like the dragons?" So, she doesn't pay too much attention to all her studies, go figure. Also a quiet, "Thank you." For the goldrider scooting over to make room for herself. Off go the sandals and she scrunches her toes into the cool grasses with obvious pleasure. Khorde's work in progress receives a small laugh but her attention shifts to the idea of more island-like activities. "I think it would be nice to have contests. Remember how hard it was to haul water...."

Khorde, the resident bitchboy, has plenty of memories of Shimana's wrath, though -- perhaps more memories of her over-the-top matchmaking. That said, in present company, he falls silent for a long moment (or five), working with idle intensity on his creation... whatever it is.

There's a peal of laughter for the thought of the gold becoming a sea monster. "She would too wouldn't she?" As for the flowers she laughs. "It could probably use the help smelling better, the Barracks that is." She laughs. "I think some of the candidates just get so tired at the end of the day that they fall into bed, clothes and dirt still on." There's a grin though for Emme's oh so subtle encouragement on the topic of sea monsters. She's got a mostly parallel base. Well if you could call it that. Stems keep breaking apparently, and she eyes the one's Emmeline is using suspiciously. "Maybe I should try a different kind of grass?" she muses, because the problem couldn't possibly be her. "Haven't really seen one, not alive anyway, they are supposed to be dangerous smart though."

Lalala indeed. Rielsath splashes her snout in the shallow stream as if to emphasize her very sea-monstery-ness, listening though her eyes are deceptively half-lidded. "Wouldn't worry about felines here. The entrance is narrow and Rielsath is not something they want to mess with - they like the wilder areas, where we go to hunt when stocks are low. Where there's typically more prey. Very dangerous. Though I'd bet on a dragon over a feline any day." She reassures the group, though it seems Rhae is more interested than fearful. "Organize something, if you think people would want to compete. Might be a good chance to show off your survival skills." Faranth knows they must have enough of those to go around. "Please tell me you've washed, so I don't have to toss you in the stream." She nudges the silent Khorde, grinning.

"Hauling water. Mixing the mud. Trying to find stuff in the shallow pools. Those scratchy berry bushes." Emme rattles off a few of the most mutually hated chores that always had nearly every exile grumbling. "Laundry, with those washing boards." Twitch. "Oh sure, Nat. Gather up a few thinner blades of grass and try it with that. It might be easier for the base. But, a bit more difficult on the sides." she cautions, bending the grass stems carefully on the left and right of the base grid to show the others the next step. She also giggles at the splashing Rielsath does in the stream. "Maybe bringing the exile kids out to the lake shore, or the stream here, would be nice for them. Give them a little taste of home."

Rhaelyn snickers quietly, the wrap around the stems quickly forming a basket-weave type pattern to hold the bundle together. "I think I's like to see one of those felines. I heard some of the herders talk about how the craft hall raises them." Obviously those aren't the same as the 'wild' ones, but the exile doesn't know that. "Or a firelizard." Jealousy hangs in her tone about the a particular firelizard addition in their ranks. "I wish I could have seen them at the gather." Her voice fades after that bit of longing. Only reflections about their old life draw her attention back to the others, "Don't forget dish-washing in that freezing cold stream. So, do you think the lake has enough fish in it for a fishing contest? I bet many of our old fishermen would be game for that. Prize for the biggest catch?"

Khorde squints up as he's nudged, staring owlish at Lujayn for a moment too long. Then: "Oh. Me? I take baths!" It's a belated protest. "They'd kick me out of the infirmary otherwise," almost belated. What? Ahem. His gaze peers over to Rielsath for another squinty moment, and half his current line of weaving unravels due to his inattention. An appropriate exile curse later, "You guys can do all that stuff. I'm not mixing up patch-mud ever again. Ever." His tongue is stuck between his teeth for a particularly sensitive moment in his weaving, base going to sides.

There's a giggle for the dragon's antics, though at the thought of a competition the smith grins. "It would be fun wouldn't it? People could learn a little bit about what it was like on the island too from it." See fun and educational, can't go wrong right? She nods at Emme's instructions though and at least /tries/ to handle the stalks a little more delicately. She's having more success at least with the thinner stems. At mention of kids Nat shoots a glance to Rhaelyn. "Speaking of which I have all those stuffed toys and blankets now, I thought maybe you'd help me deliver them?" There's a little grin for Rhaelyn. "Firelizards can be such a nuisance though. Although, they could be useful, they can get into tiny spaces that dragons can't. . . I'd need to test the heat of the flame though. . ." She trails off sounding a bit like a loon. Lujayn may be the only one who knows what the candidate is talking about there. There's a giggle for the expression on Khorde's face too as he weaves.

"You can take them to the lake anytime, that's in the Weyr," Lujayn reasons, "Though I don't know how many of us it would take to bring them all here." Meaning, chase after, babysit, and generally make sure no one gets swallowed by the grass that reaches even her waist in some places. "Firelizards hang around the Weyr too, but they're more common where it's warmer. I have one or two, if they ever show up I'll coax 'em out to meet you, how about." Lu offers. "A lot of people see them as more nuisance than anything helpful - but maybe they'd carry water for you, even if mixing mud is beyond them. I don't blame you for that one." She sighs in agreement with Khorde, stalks of grass unraveling here and there as she fails to pull them tightly enough. "Well, maybe I'll get it right eventually." Needing to stretch her legs, the rider sets the amateur basket aside to stand and head a few steps up the hill. All that talk of felines has belatedly set her alarm perimeters ringing.

Emmeline smirks at the idea of hauling water and mixing mud being fun. "Only fun if you're not doing it because you have to." she decides, gesturing over towards Khorde with her chin. "Most of us feel like that about the chores we were regularly assigned I daresay. Me, I used to keep every last one of the kids under 12 turns in line during the day. Later on, I had Seani's help. And then it was washing dishes or doing laundry." Now the idea of a fishing contest, that gets a nod. "I bet they would like that. So long as we didn't have to eat the fish later. I'll be happy if I never have to eat a charred fish fillet again. Ever." The harper picks up her own basket at that point, working to try and build up the sides so that she can finally set her little gathering of flowers in it.

"I don't think -I- want to do much of the old island chores. Dirty, hard work. But weaving baskets? That's soothing. So long as it doesn't need to be waterproof or it's not freezing cold so your joints ache with every twist." A little shudder passes over Rhae at the memory of those awful days. "I agree about the fish eating, but some of the islanders don't like mainland food." She says it like they're crazy. Almost as crazy as Nathalia talking about fire like that. "Auh...ok." She watches the smith-candidate with a guarded look that soon becomes crestfallen when the subject of passing out gifts comes up, "Can't you and Sibella do that?" Please? Another few loops of the grass extend the wrapper up a bit more. As for the goldrider having firelizards? "I would like to meet yours. I guess you can't just call them?"

"Who couldn't like bread?" Khorde's obviously a HUGE fan, by the aghast emotion in his voice. "And butter?" Butter's even BETTER. "And bacon?" He just died and went to hypothetical heaven. He does quiet down, though, keeping an eye on Emmeline and Lujayn and Rhaelyn and Nathalia for the most part... maybe. It becomes obvious how much attention he's paying when his basket droops over his face and a rattling, low, intermittent snore comes from his person. Warm rock + pretty scented air + Khorde = sleep, obviously.

There's a widening of the eyes at Emmeline's mention of the islander version of nursery duty. "I don't think I could do that If I tried, it's hard enough keeping an eye on them with Nannies around to laugh at me." She nods though at mention of contests, "That might satisfy some of them then, throw back the ones that won't be eaten, and the ones who want fish can have it." She notes. For Rhaelyn there is an eyeroll. "Sibella can help with the mainland kids, but I don't know the island kids all that well. Maybe you an Elgin could do it together?" She suggests. Eyeing the snoring male with amusement. Her not quite basket looks to be about done, well it will hold her flowers least ways. It isn't very pretty at all. "Shells this would be easier with metal. . ." she mutters.

Lujayn shakes her head. "Not from out here. Sometimes Rielsath can find them, but I doubt they'll be hanging around nearby." Arms crossed, she surveys the meadow aaaall the way to the more level bottom where some trees have taken root, the stream seems to pool into something shallow and a good deal clearer than the weyrbowl's lake. She steals a quiet moment to just breathe, taking in the cool breeze and the ever-lengthening shadows over their sunny meadow getaway, the trickling stream in the background and soft conversation below. Plus snores, of course. "Weaving with metal?" She's skeptical. "Are you sure about that, Nat?"

A few more tucks of the grass-ends and she finishes the bouquet arrangement. Holding it out like a bride, Rhaelyn smiles at the finished product. Oh, but there's something sneaky about that look. Short lived though, she quickly puts the bundle behind her to be safe and lounges over on her side in the flattered patch. There's silent disappointment for the inability to summon the firelizards but she says nothing on that topic now. Less skeptical than Lujayn about the metal weaving, Rhae is curious, "What good would weaving metal do?"

Nat nods grinning at Lujayn. "It could be done, It would have to be thin strips, copper or bronze, maybe even tin, to do it without heat. Or I could pull wire, and weave that way." There's excitement in her voice at talk of her craft, Oh yes, the kinds of innovative projects that would force the craft hall to take notice, or call her a nut case. "Well I imagine you could make a strong net type thing with it, or a mesh to hold tea leaves, could even use it to keep insects out of open doors or windows. It would last longer than cloth too usually." Oh no she's on a roll now. "Could have jewelry applications too. I bet some holders would pay for a fancy looking basket."

Lujayn is close enough to lean against Rielsath, sitting again to survey the meadow and listen sleepily to the girls' discussion. She doesn't look far from Khorde's state, but there's a sea monster on her side to keep her awake - no chance of runaways here.

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Logs:Muckraking

2011-12-04T19:29:58Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Nathalia, Rhaelyn, Sibella
| where = Stables, High Reaches
| what = Lujayn meets Sibella, watches a spat resolve itself, and is generally successful at keeping her nose out of the crap (literally and figuratively).
| when = Day 1, Month 6, Turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.05
| quote = Dream big, I guess.
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

It's early afternoon and it seems summer has finally started settling in judging from the warmth of the air. Hard at work, Nat seems to be struggling a little with getting a rather stubborn runner out of the stall she is 'trying' to muck. "Oh come on!" she pleads tugging on the lead with very little success. "You really are just going to stand there you stubborn. . ." the words are lost as she looses the grip on the lead and lands squarely on her rump.

Having been mucking a few aisles down, Sibella comes speedily to the rescue upon hearing Nat's exclaimation and fall. Not exactly adept with the animals either, Sibella does have plenty of experience with fractious adolescents and has decided to see the runners as such. Her hand shoots out to grab the runner's lead, and she similiarly reaches out a hand to help Nathalia to her feet. "It's odd that no one has come to supervise us today, isn't it? I've spent a total of a few candlemarks in here... ever." She offers a smile and a rag for Nathalia to clean her rump up with, clucking at the runner and similiarly failing to make it move.

Lujayn enters the stables slowly, looking around with a soft smile on her face. She might have wandered here idly were it not for the sure steps leading her to the stall of a familiar runner. The rider digs something from her pocket and murmurs quietly to the beast as she strokes its soft nose, turning her attentions only at the brief noise of Nathalia's fall. "All right over there?" Lu calls, not so loudly as to startle any skittish animals, approaching the two candidates curiously. "Careful they don't step on you."

There is a grateful smile from the Smith Candidate as she accepts the hand pulling herself up, dusting off her rump in the process. "Where's a dratted beast crafter when you need one." She laughs in reply to Sibella. Before anything else is said she offers a smile for the gold rider. "Yes Ma'am, they kick worse though, I am just glad it's mucking and not Shoeing." She offers a cheery enough smile for someone whose spent the day cleaning animal poop. "What brings you this way today, other than the fine turn of weather?"

Sibella can only offer a shrug to Nathalia, knowing nothing about what shoes have to do with horses. She turns her head toward Lujayn, ceasing her pulling on the poor animal's lead, and says cheerily, "Well, I have yet to be stepped on but I've been whipped plenty of times with their tails. I had no idea hair could sting so!" Sibella laughs at her own joke, then turns to look back toward her own aisle of stalls. "Well, I'm almost done. I suppose a break would be in order," she says, lowering herself onto a tied mass of bedding, still holding onto the runner - a rather dumpy little mare.

"Just to relax," Lujayn admits after a pause, glancing between the girls and the stubborn runner in question. It doesn't take her long to see they're no experts at stablework - or at least handling the animals therein. She holds out a hand with a patient look, watching as Sibella sits. "Don't imagine you'd put her away before resting yourself?" Don't want those hoovse traipsing all around, after all. "Unless this needs cleaning." Hm?

There's a laugh. "Luckier than I am with the monsters. I swear they can smell a smith coming a mile away. I've still got two left." As for Lujayn there is a grateful smile. "Needs tidied yes, sorry." She offers a sheepish frown, "I am used to having someone else to get them to do what they are supposed to, Runners that is." Yes what a lovely thing to admit, you can't handle a runner but you want to impress a dragon? She shakes her head. "You seem to have a way with them though."

"Oh!" Sibella says, and turns the pony over to Lujayn. "She doesn't seem to want to move, so I didn't even think about it. As the lead slips from Sibella's hand to the Goldrider's, Sibella says, "I've seen you about, Junior Weyrwoman Lujayn, -" giving the honorific, since, afterall, what Weyr resident doesn't know every Gold and Bronze rider by name? " -but haven't had the chance to introduce myself heretofore. I'm Sibella," she adds with a grin, "And don't know a runner from a herdbeast." Although, of course, there isn't much difference in the droppings, it would seem.

Rhaelyn has arrived.

Lujayn steps aside, nodding to the candidate at her feet first. "Well met, Sibella," As the girl sitting in haystacks, perhaps, but an introduction nonetheless. To Nat: "It takes bribing some of the time," Lu brings out another lump for the dumpy mare, getting the animal along bit by bit as it follows the treat. "Not much different from some people." She demonstrates by leading the runner away down the aisle, off to an empty stall for the time being.

It's a fine summer day and Sibella and Nat have been mucking the stables for much of the early afternoon. Lujayn has come to their rescue helping with a particularly stubborn mare. There's a warm smile for Sibella, and a laugh. As for Lujayn she watches with amusement as the mare is coaxed along. "Never thought of it that way." She comments as she hurries into the stall and starts about the mucking. "I suppose it works better for some than others, People that is."

Not wanting to seem lazy in the face of Nathalia's industry, Sibella turns to the one remaining stall. "Here, Nat, let me give you a hand." She walks away toward her aisle and returns with a cross between a rake and a shovel which she doesn't know the name of and a wheelbarrow. The runner in the remaining stall is a stately, diginified, rather intimidating black mount, and even as Sibella goes to open the partitioned door, she backs up a step. "Er... I don't think I've seen dragons that haughty."

Is it a dare or idle curiosity that draws Rhaelyn out to the stables on such a sunny days? Difficult to tell by first blush because she certainly pokes her head through the doorway as though expecting to walk into a trick. As her eyes adjust to the darkness within, she can see people and yes, hear the voices. "Hello." A slow look drifts around the place, searching for something after her quiet greeting.

There is an appreciative smile, "Really I got it 'Bella. . ." But the girl has already started in and the smith just offers a shrug. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I think. . . I will be very glad when this hatching business is finally over with," she laughs. The hello draws the crafter candidate's attention with a small lift of her brow. "Hello Rhaelyn, didn't expect to see you down this way today?" She continues shoveling dirty straw into the wheelbarrow nearby.

Eyes adjusted very well to the darkness, Sibella can see Rhaelyn as she enters the gloom, and physically recoils, if only slightly. She look back at the runner, then at Nathalia, not sure whether to aknowledge Rhaelyn's entrance. In the end, she offers, "Yeah, hey Rhaelyn," and a nod. Back to the runner, she grabs the lead hanging in front of its stall and attempts to muster the will to handle the beast.

If Rhae notices the recoil, it does unremarked upon. Except? She slides a cold look over at Sibella and casts slow down one side of her and then back up to meet her gaze with a emotionless chin-bob. "Sibella." If there's going to be recoiling, it should be good right? She comes in close but not too close--work going on and all that. "I'm looking for Marilan. The little fat-faced herder boy."

Re-emerging from some shadowy place, now runnerless, Lujayn replies to the chatter: "What will you do when it's over, then?" She greets Rhaelyn with a nod. Something smells like trouble - or at least tension, but the rider can't pinpoint it. Instead she sketches a welcome, "Haven't seen him, no. Anything I can help with?"

If you want to lead others, you should do it by example right? Well it seems like a sound theory anyhow as Nat attempts to put it in practice. "I have not seen him today, did you need him for something in particular?" There's a warm smile, see? Everyone can get along, honest. "Well the Hall informed me I am to remain stationed at Reaches until I can take the Journeyman's exams. They denied my petition to test early." She admits a little ruefully.

A crease appears between Sibella's brows at Rhaelyn's last words as she ignores the cold look-over. "Looking for him so you can poison him with your blood?" she mutters under her breath. Whew, I'm not sure if Sibella's in a charitable, to-each-their-own sort of mood today. However, Sibella catches Nathalia's clear lead on the matter and tries to stifle the hairs standing on the back of her neck while responding to Nat with, "Aw, well, at least you could consider it a sort of break. More time to study up, hm? While you muck stalls," she says with a chuckle.

A bit of parchment is drawn from her pocket and Rhaelyn's long fingers flick it like waving a banner. "That little twerp thinks he's awfully smart, but that boy he left this note for can't even read. So you know what happened? Marilan's buddy had to read it 'for' him. And when I got to him, he was all too happy to spill it." The girl doesn't offer it out to anyone right away but there's kiss-marks all over the outside in vivid pink lipstick. As for Sibella The insult was /just/ loud enough to catch her attention and draw heat from the cold-eyed girl, "Excuse me? What did you say to me?"

"What to do with you if you Impress after all that work? That's their conundrum," Lujayn reasons, while sympathizing with Nat's woes. "Crafter-riders almost have a tougher time, with a dragon and being expected to continue their vocation. You might come out being thankful they didn't let you test now." Leaning over the stall while the girl works, she has one ear perked for the brewing storm that's blown in with Rhaelyn but doesn't intervene.

Nat offers a visible wince at the barb coming from Sibella and there is a face for her candidate friend. Shells the day had been going so well too, ah well she was going to do her best. "He faked a note from a girl?" the tone is mild but there's a hint of anger edging the words, but it certainly isn't directed at Rhaelyn. The safer topic of Impression gets a sigh from the Crafter. "I suppose, It isn't like I could completely give up the craft if I were to impress though. I mean at the very least I could make my own buckles. . ." there's a small pout. "I guess that is true though, if I don't impress though it's going to be another two to four years before I can petition again though."

Infinitely honest, Sibella clarifies her voice and articulates each of her words individually just for Rhaelyn; since the insult has been made and called upon, there are no take-backs. "I asked if you were looking to poison the poor boy with what you think is blood running through your veins." In a more conversational tone, she adds, "Of course, he couldn't be expected to understand your higher standards in pranking." Too difficult now to return to the safer topics, Sibella quite pointedly - if inwardly abashedly - ignores Nathalia's physical reprimands via looks and body language.

Rhaelyn gives another flap of the hide but as it seems that the boy is in hiding, even another look around the stables reveal the object of her displeasure. There's no answer for Nathalia's question about the note and it's tucked back into a pocket. Besides, there's Sibella and her insult to address. "I -see-. Why is it that you think my blood in poison? Why, I would have poisoned you weeks ago if that were the case. So, we both know that you're just being petty and mean spirited. What, exactly, is up your backdoor and what does it have to do with me?" Her tone is tired, boarding on bored in the cold, low tone.

Girls will be girls, especially candidates; Lujayn understands the need to blow off steam all too well. So it's carefully that she joins Nat in the stall, one eye on the bristling duo outside to make sure it goes no farther than words. "Of course you could continue the craft. It's admirable, really. Especially in the Interval, could you imagine a more prominent crafter figure on a dragon? That could mean something entirely different. Something new." Who knows what, but /new/ is exciting. "Anyhow - the more diversity among riders, the better." Pointedly, it might seem, to comments concerning poisoned blood.

There is a very loud smack as Nathalia's palm meets her forehead, as Sibella repeats the insult. Eyes scrunched shut. Shards and shells, though it's the bit about 'higher standards in pranking' gets a very dirty look. "Prank or not, Sibella it is a very /unkind/ thing to do to anyone." Speaking from personal experience maybe? Whatever the case she's not happy about it one bit. Though as the gold rider joins her in the stall, she relaxes just a little, and there's a grin at the suggestion. "Well it would make things just a bit easier on the weyr too, If you think about it, a lot of the repair work and orders could be handled within the weyr if the Craft Hall gets greedy on terms of price. Who knows I don't think anyone has ever tried forging with dragon flame either. . ." She seems thoughtful about the term diversity. "You think so?" There's a sigh as the tension outside the stall seems to get heavier. "Shells and Shards you two, would you just stop." She pleads looking from one to the other. "Your both better people than this." She asserts firmly, before turning her attention back to Lujayn with an apologetic frown.

Sibella opens her mouth to say something about Rhaelyn knowing all about unkind things, then stops as Nathalia pleads with Rhaelyn and her to do so. She looks ashamedly apologetic as she casts her gaze toward Lujayn and Nathalia, then backs up a few steps from Rhaelyn, turning her chin back toward the ground. "I..." She sighs, "It was not cruelly intended, the note, I'm sure." However, her tone in the weak argument is apologetic, though that is all she can offer in the way of apology under the circumstances.

Even though Rhae isn't a candidate of course, she's still stuck in those quarters sleeping among them. Maybe they are rubbing off on her! The goldrider doesn't go unnoticed, she was the one, after all, who got Rhae free from that Gather-Situation. When Sibella backs down, her eyebrows arch slowly upward, "Right." Sibella might as well try to convince her that fish fly Between. Still, between the backing down and Nathalia's extra pleas to stop, she draws away. "So..." Walking over to peer over the stall door, "Goldrider. Hello." It's not surprising that she's particularly guarded.

Lujayn listens, letting minute reactions flicker across her face as each girl speaks in turn: surprise, approval, cautionary; her thoughts on the matter are her own for the moment. She busies herself with moving the wheelbarrow closer to the part of the stall Nat has reached, grinning at the novel idea. Dragon forging? "Dream big, I guess." Now she greets Rhaelyn properly, pleased to witness self-control in the young women, among other things. "Hello, Rhaelyn. Sounds like a tangle-" Settling the wheelbarrow and straightening, she brushes stray pieces of straw from her breeches. "If he's not found, I'll put in a word with the herder overseers. What's your pleasure today, raking or hauling?" If there's another pair of hands to be found in the girl, might as well use them to good distraction.

"Whatever the intentions, it hurts to be played with like that. I hated it when it happened to me at the hall, and I am sure the poor Islander boy feels the same. What exactly were you intending to do about the situation Rhaelyn." Her tone is soft, for her Candidate friend, and equally so for Rhaelyn, It was a start at least. She offers both girls a thankful smile. And at the grin from Lujayn she nods. "You could spot weld in places that previously might have been unreachable." Oh yes she was dreaming very big now. "Yes you should Join in the fun," The smith grins.

Sibella looks from Nat to Rhaelyn, and her inner reprimand frenzies as she realizes, in her hasty hate, she had failed to understand that the note had been left, not for Rhaelyn, but for a younger boy. Oh, that is cruel indeed. Further abashed, she retreats to the stall of the large black runner she'd meant to begin on, almost expecting an arrogantly accusatory look from him. Instead, she finds an outstretched muzzle and an inquisitive look, and Sibella finds herself completely melted. Gently, she sighs to him, "Hey there now, big boy. And I thought you would be on Rhaelyn's side," She chuckles, remembering the stallion's original arrogance.

"Marilan needs to know that people are on to him. He can spare any additional victims." Meaning those poor souls who get the letters. "And spend more time shoveling his shit. Or whatever it is beast boys do." A hand waves just under her nose. In answer to Nathalia's question, she explains a bit more of the situation, "I would at least have him spell my name right if he's going to get his jollies off pretending to be me. And all to see some poor boy squirm when he thinks /I/ have an eye on him." Continuing to lean against the stall, she puzzles over the question, "What do you mean? Raking....hauling?" Her upper lip curls a bit, not really a smile though. "I work in the laundry."

"Doesn't seem like it just now," Lujayn shrugs at Rhaelyn's distaste, leaning back against the stall door. "Thought you'd lend a hand if you wanted to hang around and chat." The offer is light, turning over matters in her mind. "So what is it to the laundress if other boys get the wrong idea? Surely not their well-being." She catches Sibella's retreat into the stall, an amused smile growing at the escape attempt. "That's a keen idea, Nat. Welding."

Nat finishes up spreading the straw, and peers over at Sibella, a small laugh emerging. "I see how it is, you just charm the boys into doing whatever you wish." She teases her friend, as though to show that there's no hard feelings or anger at all. Her attention snaps back to Rhaelyn though and there is a burst of giggles as she finds out the 'real' reason for the Island female's involvement, though a mischievous smile quirks over the girl's lips. "You know what would do him a turn better? Tell the Islander boy, and help him get his revenge by pretending to go on a date with him and letting him break up with you. It will give the younger boy something to boost his confidence, and make that herder eat his hat." There's a smile for Lujayn. "Well I have to impress first. But it is an interesting thought."

Rhaelyn follows the amused smile to trail after were Sibella escaped with a puzzlement. She even leans over to see just what's in that stall before her attention returns to Lujayn, "Have you ever had some stranger come up to you all fish-eyed and lower-lip quivering to say that they 'like you too'? All because of some counterfeit affections!" The little sniff indicates that it's not as entertaining as one might assume. "Did you see the lipstick he used? Like I would wear that color. Please." Nathalia proves that she is more evil than she appears. Her suggestions makes Rhae's mouth fall open, "That doesn't sound nearly as entertaining as my idea." She doesn't really remark on helping with the mucking, but she offers a flake of fresh straw for Nathalia. Helpful. See.

Lujayn can't help but carry the grin all through the romantic plotting, eyes sparkling at the shift from animosity to encouragement (by some). "Whatever you come up with, I can see the boys crying already." Heartbreakers, the lot. "Did you mention your idea?" Looking back over the fresh stall, Lu nods her approval and steps out into the stone-laid aisle. "I'll fetch the mare. Don't get into too much trouble. Or don't get caught." She advises, meandering down the long rows of stalls to find just where on Pern she left that poor runner.

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Logs:Playing "guard"

2011-12-04T19:29:14Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Emmeline, Lujayn
| where = Records Room, High Reaches; Storerooms, High Reaches
| what = A more relaxed introduction than the tumultuous first arrival and rescue on the Exiles' island. Lujayn brings Emmeline a little breakfast. Information is exchanged; both women learn something about how to better get along with the other's crowd. Then it's off to the stores for a small tour as Lu plays escort.
| when = Day 7, Month 13, Turn 25
| gamedate = 2011.06.12
| quote = Islanders, not Exiles
| weather =
| categories = islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

If there's one thing which can be said of the exiles young harper, it's that she hasn't caused nearly the amount of trouble as some of the others have. At least not yet. Instead, once she sequestered herself in here save for sleep or food or other necessities, the past few days have seen her quite silent. Scribbling things down on hide, copying things from her own books. And, occasionally casting a longing glance at the vast stores of information here. Yet... loathe to request help so far in looking for it. She doesnt' even talk to her 'guard' as the exiles have been calling them, just gives meaningful glances when it's time to go.

Lujayn isn't shy about her entrance, a tray of klah and rolls in hand for this early-hour visit. It takes barely a minute for her to locate the former exile, only slightly familiar, and to place the tray at one end of the table scattered with papers. She smiles at the guard briefly, gaze meaningful. "If you need a break.." The goldrider hints, inviting herself to sit across the way from Emmeline. "I thought you might need something." The tray, help, conversation..? Who knows, but she's here. "I'm Lujayn." Delicately taking a still-warm roll and splitting it in half, nonchalant.

Another person, no matter what time of day, is a scarcity. So Lujayn's entrance is first greeted with a startled drop of the quill; and, quickly followed by a muffled curse as she scrapes her chair back to retrieve the errant item. "I... oh, yes. Lujayn. I remmeber you, from the first meeting." A fact that garners the goldrider a bit more of a warm nod and smile then the scribe received, certainly. "I'm Emmeline. Depending who you ask today, I'm either the island's harper... fake, of course, if you say it o a /real/ harper. Or, a traitor if you ask some of the exiles. And still others will tell you I'm the know-it-all little harper girl. Have a preference for which one you'd like to talk to? I seem to have a problem juggling all three roles these days." Even if it was meant to be snippy, the words just come out sounding a bit lost and sad really. And she knows it. So, clearing her throat, she tries another track. "What's the stuff in your cup? I don't think we've been allowed to try that yet."

"Emmeline the harper girl, the intelligent one who doesn't lose her head over every little thing. And I wouldn't call you fake." Lujayn decides, taking one steaming mug and sliding the other one in the girl's direction. "Once everything settles down, I wouldn't be surprised if you could be an apprentice at Harper Hall." She smiles reassuringly. "It's klah. Something to keep you going if you start to feel tired. Not too rich, I hope." She adds after a pause, careful not to drip any on the table as she dips her roll in it. "So, find anything interesting yet? I know there's a lot to go through here." Casting gray eyes around at the aisles of records, noting that the guard has taken the opportunity to find himself somewhere else.

Emmeline is able to let go of a deep breath, with tension rolling off of her shoulders at Lujayn's initial assessment. "That's real nice of you, ma'am." Not even those who call themselves her friends have been that charitable, perhaps evident at just how grateful the girl seems with such a simple statement. "I haven't even looked at all of this, yet. I've just been copying notes for our elders, so that I'm no longer needed." she explains, wrapping her hands around the cup full of heavenly smelling liquid and taking a first tentative sip. Overly wide eyes greet the taste, but she's careful to drink any of it very very slowly. "There are a few things I want to look for. Some of it's just... information. About how things work here. And about the dragons. Things I can break down so that they're understandable for all of us."

Lujayn sits back to listen, finishing off a roll more quickly than Emmeline can take a few sips of klah. It's breakfast for her, at least. "These aren't as sweet, if you're hungry." Nodding to the tray, she grins despite the girl's words. "Like it? And why wouldn't you be needed? That day, you even knew the greetings to High Reaches. I think it caught us off guard." The goldrider isn't above poking fun at herself, for sure. "I can help track down specific things - or answer questions." Lu offers, turning this over in her mind. "I keep forgetting this is brand new to everyone. The best way to learn about dragons and just the Weyr itself is to be out and about. Don't suppose anyone's too thrilled about that." Exiles or weyrfolk or both? "Otherwise, asking's a good course. Most of these are leadership records, Threadfall maps, clutch counts, stores records. We grow up learning about the Weyr. There /should/ be more practical information. Sadly, no how-to guides." She half-smiles, chuckling softly.

"I wouldn't want to throw it up on you." Emmeline admits, a bit sheepish despite the way she glances at the rolls. "Two unfamiliar things in a row may not settle very well." Ahem. "This stuff is... it's great! Will it be a problem for me to go get it in the mornings instead of the tea they've been serving?" Because that's what everyone needs. The harper hopped up on caffeine. "I... I guess that's a good question. But I can assure you I don't feel needed. Especially not when my own friends won't say a word in my defense." But seeing as she's had days to turn this all over in her mind, she's able to smirk with dry humor about the situation. "You should understand... they don't care right now about proper greetings, or how things work. They're sick, and sad, and bitter. We've all lost family and friends. And, people think it's because of the dragons. Or that we were poisoned. And they don't trust any of you. Not one single person." That, of course, makes her sigh. "Maybe... maybe I should just start with what people think about the exiles. Maybe I can use that, somehow."

@emit It's hard for Lujayn to keep her pensive thoughts from reaching her expression upon hearing Emmeline's account of the exiles. "Once they're able to move around, maybe they'll be more confident. It shouldn't be too much longer if everyone keeps their temper. Weyrfolk included." She sets her mug down, "Orders were to evacuate everyone before the storm hit- some riders grumble about ingratitude, others don't want to take the time to teach kids' stuff to a bunch of older folks. But most of us are trying very hard to work with you. Half the time we just don't know how to help. Myself included." Choosing her words more carefully, speaking more slowly. "I'm here to help, at least. Anything you need." She brightens as the conversations drifts back to lighter topics. "Yeah, klah's usually over the fire all day in the living cavern, especially in the winter. I'd like to take groups up there so they can get used to serving themselves - that's what's usually done, go when you're hungry and sit around as long as you like."

"We're all caught up in the past, I think. We feel that we're owed rescue, and recompense. But just as it wasn't us that have been accused of any crime, none of you were the ones who committed the crims against our ancestors either. It's a... well, a difficult situation all around." Listening carefully, and trying to think quickly, Emme sits there mulling over the options. "I think... that right now, the best thing to do would be to share information openly with the group. Tell us what's happening, where we stand, and when we can go... if that's what we choose." Of course, knowing she can wander off to get klah any time of day makes /her/ day a bit brighter. Since this drink is now her new obsession. Yum. "We used to eat communally. And then we would all be served by whomever was in charge that day, so that the food could be rationed appropriately. It will be a change for us to serve ourselves and not be limited by quantity. So it may be confusing for some."

"Most of that isn't anyone's individual call," Lujayn warns gently, "The decisions about when and where you can go, if you stay here or - if you choose - be brought back to the island." That last possibility has her shaking her head. "I don't imagine many people would want that? What I mean is, there are meetings and talks and all kinds of things that go into these decisions. Rielsath would have had you all here that first day if she got her way," The rider can't help smiling at the thought of her dragon's insistence. "Maybe a liaison to the meetings could be worked out, so everyone can feel included. No secrets." Even that feels like a stretch. "It'll have to be brought up and talked about. No hasty decisions around here, that's for sure." Says one of the more impatient weyrfolk, quick to act as opportunity presents itself. "I'll be in the barracks later today to do just that, I think. Answering questions, making sure people get where they need to go. Didn't take them long to figure out that I have the patience for that kind of thing." She mulls over her next question, phrasing it as non-offensively as possible. "What do I call your lot? You're sure not convicts or exiles, I don't like calling you that. But it doesn't feel like you're part of High Reaches. Not Weyrfolk, cotholders, or crafters." Looking to Emmeline for a diplomatic reply, she stares into her mug of klah. "Exile's got such a stigma to it. Keeps everyone apart from the rest."

"You'd be surprised. There really are people who want to go back there. Because it's all we've ever known. The familiar is comfort." Emme replies, her brow furrowing as she takes in the information on how all of those decisions are made. "Yes, a liason. One of our group. That might help." she agrees, sounding hopeful. "It will take patience, I can almost promise you that. They're not even being patient with someone who is supposed to be one of their own. You might want to be prepared for bitter questions. And accustions." she admits quietly, looking uncomfortable with having to say that. "Might want to skip the part were you spoke with me too." she mutters, taking another long sip of the warm and stimulative drink. She's thinking on that last question, see. And it takes a moment, but finally... "Islanders." she suggests. "We've lived on Islands, so it seems fitting. And yet, doesn't carry the same connotation as exiles."

Lujayn nods every couple of seconds, soaking up the warnings as well as the information. "Even if you do go back, it won't be the same now that Pern knows you're there." She doesn't say more; the truth of the statement is a given. "Is it really that bad? Your standing with them? I'd think all this work you're doing, they should be grateful." She peers across the table at what few papers are arranged there, the scrawled notes and helpful hints. "I'll take it to them if you want. Coming from me instead of you, the reaction could be different. From dragonrider to.. Islanders it is." She says with finality, smiling. The rolls are cooler, klah no longer steaming. "Feel up for stretching your legs? I don't mind playing escort if you're curious about seeing other places."

"I guess it wouldn't be the same, would it. Some may think it would be better, now that we might have a means of trade or a link to survival out here." Emme reasons, then perhaps looking sheepish again. "Probably not as bad as I paint it to be. It just feels that way. You'll note that you've been my only visitor." she points out, but shakes her head anyway. "This information is all based on the books handed down to me by my ancestress. They'd see it as a betrayal if I'd been sharing it with you. Better, for now, if it came from me. And then later... when I learn more of how the weyr and dragonriding works, that might be better coming from you." She perks up at the idea of stretching her legs though, and willingly stands up to stretch. "That, I think, would be great. I've not seen much except the baths and... here."

Lujayn's eyebrows raise in slight surprise. "I can fix that. You'll just have to be the visitor instead of waiting for people to come to you." It seems decided, then, that a change of scenery is greatly called for. "Right. I'll keep to the weyr stuff for now." She promises, collecting the tray and pushing back her chair to join Emmeline. "The weather's not great for being out and about if you haven't got a jacket," Indeed, the goldrider's still in her winter furs, draping a scarf over one arm and holding gloves under the tray in a balancing act. "Maybe take this back to the living caverns and a little look into the stores? Winters here tend to linger. You'll need warm clothes. Ones you like, not just the things sent out to you." A little jerk of the chin towards the exit, and she's headed out.

Movement to the Stores

Having returned the tray and uneaten food to the kitchens, Lujayn quickly doubles back to the main storage room. Doors lead in nearly every direction, some locked and others open, illuminated better as she holds up the glow to give her companion a better look around. It's quiet at this time, luckily, no one to question the rider and islander or to interrupt their outing. Giving Emmeline a few minutes to get her bearings, the rider stands back to let the girl choose which path to take. "We can go to the public stores; I don't have keys at the moment for anything else - and the Headwoman likely wouldn't appreciate us rifling through every single room, either." She offers, waving the glow towards the nearest two doors. "A lot of it is clothes, some textiles, a bit of simple furniture."

Emmeline certainly needs a moment to both catch her breath at the size of the storage rooms /and/ get her mind around how much is in here. "I... just, wow. Our storage was so small. And we had to work so hard for the little we could put in there." Her voice is hushed and wistful, as if she's afraid it will echo back too loudly. "Uhm... clothing. I've been waiting till everyone else picked through what was brought." As evidenced by the ill-fitting but warm (for her) clothing she has on. "This s great." And she does, indeed, step to the nearest doors to peer inside and then find the one that has clothing inside it.

Lujayn follows dutifully with her glow, lighting the dark and slightly musty room. There are shelves, boxes and bins, very carefully labelled and meticulously organized. "Go for it," The rider encourages her friend. "I don't need anything myself. D'you need gloves? We can't keep you guys cooped up inside forever." Searching for a box that might have winter clothing in it, used but definitely wearable, she paces the shelves with eagerness to help. "Or scarves? I haven't kept great track of what they've had delivered to you." Lu remarks apologetically. "You've got shoes at least, I remember that being a top priority. Socks?" And she's off in another direction.

"I haven't had much reason to go outside yet, so gloves and a scarf. Yes, definitely." Emme agrees, seeming in awe of the organized boxes. Ones that she runs her fingers across in order, up and down the rows until she finds things she wants. Pants. Shirts. Smallclothes have been taken care of already fortunately. "Socks would be good too." she agrees, looking down at her feet a moment. Shoes on, yeah. But socks? "What kind of fabrics do you have here? I don't know what this is that I have on now, but it's itchy. Might be because our skin is sensitive or something. But, I'd prefer not to always be scratching myself." It could be embarassing depending on where that itch is, afterall.

Watching as the pile grows steadily, Lujayn keeps an eye to make sure the stores aren't depleted upon their departure. But Emme's pickings appear reasonable and she doesn't comment. After all, the islanders have practically nothing even now. "That'd be wool, woven from animal hair. It's the warmest fabric you can get despite the scratching.. like a sweater, you probably want a shirt under it to keep that from happening. A lighter garment." She holds up a woolly sweater in faded sky blue and a cream shirt of smoother textile to go under it, just for example. There's going to need to be a lot of refolding here after the Junior's done rifling through boxes. "D'you know what'll fit? I can always take stuff back if it doesn't. Or there might be a belt. Maybe. Those usually don't make it here, just used up until they break and get sent to the scrap pile, the buckles to be put into new garments." She muses.

Emmeline is nothing if not practical. Everything she sets aside appears to be only the necessities and none of the frills. No skirts, no dresses, no adornments of any kind. Just solod colors and reasonable fabrics. And, she does begin to fold items when she's decided against them. "I hadn't thought of that. Should have, too, considering how we have to layer up in the winter a lot." With what they had, anyway. She's also quick about it, and settles on a couple pairs of pants and a few shirts with shirt-to-go-under it pairs. "This will do perfectly I think. I imagine we're all going to grow out of whatever we get now anyway. The healers said we would gain weight."

"Looks good," Lujayn approves, silently adding a woolen scarf to the pile and a pair of lightweight gloves. She folds a couple of discarded pieces back into boxes, taking a glance at the rows of shoes - most of them not winter-ready, others solid workboots that are a bit impractical for the islanders' current living situation. "Anything else? I can't imagine you have a lot of space in the barracks, but we can order a smaller table to be brought down, or some extra chairs. Blankets." Eyes roving the shelves a last time, she meanders to a shelf of books and peels out a relatively thin tome with once-colorful pictures over the front. "These are children's stories," She explains, paging through it. "Of Pern, that is. Stories about dragon hatchings or clever Crafters who invented things, adventure stories about Thread, simple things - firelizards, holders, everyday life. If you think it would be of help." Not necessarily an essential item, but the conversation back in the records room has Lu's mind turning. "An introduction that's not so scary."

"Oh, no. There's still not enough room for anything like that." Emme admits, thinking of the still-crowded barracks despite all of the people who had died of late. "I've got everything I need here, thank you so much." The emphasis on the words seem to convey gratitude for more then just the clothing or escort to the sotrage rooms, but for the sake of both their comfort she leaves the rest unsaid. "That will help with the children, too. Their minds are still young enough to be accepting of the new experience. Assuming their parents allow it to be taught and read to them. And, I can write down important points from it for the others. Maybe try to pass the books along for everyone to read, without being pushy." The colorful pictures already have /her/ entranced anyway, bringing a bit of a bemused smile to her lips.

Lujayn beams. "There are definitely more of them; starting slow sounds like the best idea. You'd get more culture out of these than the records room, not that facts aren't useful." One last look around and it seems they're done. "Got everything, then? I hope your guard isn't wandering around confused. I do need to see you off to wherever it is you'd like to return to. I'll just think of it more as a pleasant walk than an escort service." She winks, clearly enjoying Emme's company far more than following a duty to 'guard' the islanders at every moment outside of their barracks. "Scarf might come in handy on the way back if we need to cross the bowl." Making hasty but legible notes on the inventory sheets to leave record of the few items they've collected today, Lu hangs the ledger back up with a satisfied expression. Returning the gratitude without so much as a moment's hesitation, she makes a small bow. "Pleasure taking you out today, truly."

"I don't know, it'd be find of funny to see the guard wandering around confused." Emme admits, a bit of her playful nature returning when she mentions the original escort. "Maybe we could sneak up on him when we make our way back." is suggested, amidst a sudden smile. She puts on the scarf then, just in case they have to cross the bowl. "I should grab my things from the records room, and then make sure I get all of this back to the barracks. I can't just cart it around with me everywhere." Even if she would still prefer to avoid that other room. Not entirely certain about etiquette, the young woman returns the bow given and then just waits for Lujayn to lead the way.

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Logs:Fun is serious business.

2011-12-04T19:28:58Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Elgin, Lujayn, Nathalia, Rhaelyn, Taikrin, Ylynna (NPC)
| where = Orchards, High Reaches Hold
| what = Lujayn tries to make sure that everyone has a Good Time at the gather. It's hard work.
| when = Day 14, month 5, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.07.31
| quote = We have all of our teeth. For now.
| weather =
| categories = Gather, islanders
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Ylynna gives Rhaelyn a look of warning, "Your pretty things can be taken away as quickly as they were 'given'." It's enough to make Rhae's shoulders tighten and her amusement fade. "That's right. Good girl." A few of the holders have thinned from the group though, lacking the stomach for any violence that is surely brewing. To Nathalia, Ylynna answers back with pompous retort, "I am Lady Highreaches niece! And a candidate. I'll be getting that gold dragon. You mark my words girlie-girl. And--and--you're a -Candidate-. I'm going to speak with the weyrleader about you running off with that mouth in front of all these fine hold people." The grin is pleased. Yes, she'll get nat in trouble! Meanwhile Rhae just stands there, arms crossing over her bejewed bodice front as a few other gather-goers sneak closer to peer at the exile.

A sardonic grin quirks Taikrin's lips at the rant from 'The Niece of High Reaches', though she doesn't linger. Rather, she cuts over to saunter towards Nathalia, drawing beside the girl with both eyebrows raised. "Y'know," she remarks conversationally, "Generally, it ain't considered good form for candidates to be rilin' up the hosts, even if the hosts are overbred and rude. She knocks back wine as if it were whiskey, then adds, "/Especially/ if you got t'share a barracks with 'em tonight. Never know when a girl like that's gonna get someone t'shank you in your sleep."

If the Smith catches the discourse between Rhaelyn and Ylynna it doesn't show on her features, though something clearly clicks in her head. Obviously finished with the Holder brat. She just shrugs. "Give Lady High Reaches my fondest regards, and by all means tell the Weyrleader. Unlike some I actually enjoy hard work." With that the gaggle of holders is ignored in favor of her beer and Taikrin. The smith looks up at the brownrider with a grin. "Yeah I suppose I will be scrubbing the latrines tomorrow, but shards and shells it will be worth it." In a quiter voice there's a small laugh. "Shanked? Hardly, I doubt there's anyone with the brass to do it. Well Rhaelyn might. . ." There's a laugh. "Some things though are just as simple as right and wrong, and nobody, not even Rhae deserves to be talked to like that."

Lujayn drifts along in the crowds of the gather, making tired small talk here and there with no inkling that the larger tide of curious ears is sweeping her towards a building conflict. It's more the tone and volume that catch her attention than the words themselves, and Lu strikes out on her own path to hedge at the quarrelers' heels. "Shells, what /is/ the matter here?" A glance to Taikrin as tiredness flares into irritation at the whole lot - can't she keep these girls in line? At least Nathalia looks removed. "Duties to your hold," She introduces herself abruptly to Ylynna. "Lujayn of gold Rielsath." She can't bring herself to make more scathing comments, but her gray eyes hold stormclouds. "It sounds like you'll be joining us soon? Congratulations."

Ylynna flicks a sharp 'shoo' flick of fingers after Nathila and makes sure she's not going to come back before turning back to Rhae. "Stop fussing. Unfold your arms." A quick adjustment of her dress and the side-show continues with a few new additions drifting past. "Lets see, where were we? Ah yes, as you can see, they are quite harmless." The contrast of the heated smith-candidate and the domesticated Rhaelyn makes a few of the holders murmur their agreement. "But maybe she simply doesn't understand." An older man suggests as he comes closer to get a better look. "Certainly looks healthy enough for a bag of bones. Do they have all their teeth?" Instead of answering the questions about the exiles, Ylynna must preen before the Highreaches rider, "Oh, Goldrider Lujayn." Pretty dimples for the lady, "I'm Ylynna." She doens't introduce Rhaelyn. "I've had the pleasure of your hospitality for a few weeks now. But it's so nice to visit home."

"Sure seems to me you got a thing for wanting t'be scrubbing latrines. You got some kinda weird fetish or something?" Taikrin is probably joking: nobody's smirk can be that insufferable while still maintaining a semblance of seriousness. "Anyways, in my experience it don't take much balls at all to go after some poor, sleeping sap. And, well... y'never know." A shoulder rises in a shrug, idly. "Good on you to be lookin' out for her, I guess, but I reckon you probably want to look out for yourself, more. Doubt her sort is gonna appreciate you stickin' your neck out." She twists to glance over her shoulder at the Rhaelyn/Ylynna spectacle, seems about to protest, but then notices Lujayn and subsides. To Nathalia, "There, Lujayn's got it all in hand now. Don't you worry none."

Nat laughs, "Nah no fetishes honest, I just figure no matter what I do I get into mischief anyway, may as well be preemptive about the chores that usually follow." She shrugs. There's a thoughtful expression for the comment. "Well between you and me I don't sleep much these days anyway." She follows Taikrin's glance to the now preening spectacle. "I suppose, but your right, she won't appreciate it. She's just as likely to spit venom at me for it. It isn't like I expected a thank you or anything for it either." She studies the brownrider thoughtfuly. "Is that what you do Taikrin? Look after yourself?" there's no accusation and certainly no venom. Just a mild tone and a curiosity in her eyes. "I expect that will be another gold rider I have now /not/ endeared myself too. This is becoming a bad habit."

Bag of bones? Teeth? "Thank you sir, we're very well," As if the man had been asking after their health and not sizing someone up like a runner. Lujayn's tone is clearly a dismissal to the crowd, turning her back on them. Lujayn is familiar with Rhaelyn, perhaps not personally but certainly enough so that she steps closer to the other girl. "You're not on display," Speaking directly to Rhae before hissing through her teeth to the preening git Ylynna. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that as a candidate you're to respect all members of the Weyr. Why don't you find some dear old friend to visit? I daresay they've missed your charming ways." Heavy on the sarcasm.

"Better sleep now," Taikrin declares in no uncertain terms. "You end up with a dragon, you ain't gonna be sleepin' much the first month or two. Kinda like babies, wantin' to be fed and play and be oiled at all kinds o dumb hours." Nathalia's question draws the brownrider's full attention for likely the first time all conversation; though there's still the ghost of amusement sketched onto her face, there's something serious and measuring in the way her dark eyes lock onto the candidate's. "Look after me /and/ Szadath," she clarifies. "And the people who matter. And the ones what can't take care of themselves. And the hatchlings. Y'know, someone's got to do it." She doesn't turn to look back at Lujayn, but there is a temporary gravity shift as her attention pings over then back. "And /how/ can you not get on with Teris and Tiriana? They're easy."

Ylynna's fine show is slipping through her fingers. She makes a click sound of her teeth as the goldrider comes between herself and the exile-show. "She doens't mind it. Do you Rhaelyn?" It's a last grasp to keep the exile in her clutches for the attention it'll gain her. For a moment Rhaelyn is really stuck, side with the rider, or with the girl who made the bargain with her? "I didn't know that borrowing the dress and things was going to cut into so much gather time." The exile allows and looks to Lujayn, wary but thankful for chance to chew her leg out of the trap.

Elgin strides into the orchards to escape the noise from the courtyard, or at least as much as he can. This is his first trip out of the weyr since the exiles rescued and the usually confident boy is looking a little wary himself. His eyes dart between tables and tents but for the most part he is scanning the crowd for people he knows. Rhaelyn is spotted and he moves towards that group, "Hey Rhae..." His voice trailing off as the goldrider is given a salute. "Goldrider..."

Nat seems thoughtful. "Really? Hadn't thought of that. It's very different I guess, then again no guarantees that anybody impresses." Nat just meets those dark eyes unflinchingly but a smile works its way over her lips at the riders response. "The hatchlings and the ones who can't look after themselves. . ." She echoes as though confirming something, measuring Taikrin with that look. "Someone does, and usually it is a pretty thankless job." She agrees finally. "Well I haven't met Tiriana, but Teris seemed to take everything I said in the most offensive manner possible." She notes with a sigh, pulling a long drain from her mug. She does let her attention float back for a moment, but it returns back to the brown rider.

"This dress?" Lujayn finally notices that people tend to wear clothes. "We'll have it returned in good order by the end of the day, Ylynna. But I'd be happy to escort you to the Weyr if you'd rather have it back." An unpleasant threat, that: chores weighed against a good party. Elgin's arrival is the perfect excuse for the goldrider to ignore Miss-Highreaches-Niece, neatly excluding her from the new trio. "Let me know if you need anything," As an aside to Rhaelyn before the other candidate comes close enough to hear. She relaxes just a bit, a smile clearing through those storm-filled eyes. "Afternoon. Elgin, isn't it?"

/That/ little bit about Teris prompts a guffaw of laughter and a clap to Nathalia's shoulder with Taikrin's free hand. "That /does/ sound like Teris," she admits ruefully. "Don't /you/ take it personal. She's having a hard time, lately." She dumps the last of the wine down her throat, then draws the back of her hand across her mouth. A thought suddenly dawns, because she peers at Nathalia's mug with pursed lips. "Hey, you supposed to be drinkin' that? Or is it just weyrlings that ain't allowed? Don't know as I can remember the rules, but I know I remember /somethin'/ like that." Her expression melts away to reveal a lopsided grin. "Worst time of my life, I reckon, havin' to go dry."

Ylynna huffs a few empty, "But...it's too late. She's altered it. Ruined it." Ruined everything for the end of Ylynna's gather it seems. "I'll see -you- back at the weyr Rhaelyn." The voice is kind, the look is not. She brushes by Elgin with an elbow and off she goes to rejoin her friends, making no bones about dishing some dirt about how poorly the weyr is treating her after her 'kindness' to the savages. "Well, at least I don't have to say 'Weyr' again to them." Yes, she has an accent. Yes, the way she speaks is 'old and formal'. "Thank you. I think." And to Elgin she flashes a little smile, fixing the front of her bodice again, even with the alterations it swims on her.

Nat just smiles. "What has been going on with her Any how? Seems like a lot of folks have been extra prickly." She notes quietly. As her drink is spotted there is a blush from the crafter. "Just not supposed to get drunk I think, wait. . . you have to go /dry/ if you impress?" Clearly the thought had never occurred to her.

Elgin isn't sure what he walked into but he doesn't seem surprised when the stranger brushes passed him, though he does wince slightly at the elbow, instead a raised eyebrow and a grin is shot in Rhaelyn's direction, before his attention to turns to the goldrider, "Yes ma'am. It is Elgin. Is everyone enjoying the gather?" His gaze flickers back to Rhaelyn as she adjusts the dress, "Beautiful dress, Rhaelyn." Then he pauses thoughtfully, "Who was that?" Indicating the girl that stormed off a minute ago.

Lujayn hasn't had her question answered, either; she doesn't press Rhaelyn for any explanation just yet. "Supposedly one of your fellow candidates," The woman watches to make sure Ylynna loses herself in the crowd before giving her full attention to the other two. "Thought so - I'm Lujayn. I think we can make a day of it as long as the rain stays off. You're enjoying yourself too?"

"Ain't my place to go into it," Taikrin brushes off Nathalia's question about Teris, instead choosing to go on about the woes of a weyrling's life. "For, like, a /turn/. 'Cause the hatchlings are in your head, and I reckon they don't /understand/ about why your mind is getting all weird, y'know? You could really flip them out, and then, well, awful things could happen. They get okay with it, when they get older and they can understand more." She wiggles her emtpy wine cup at Nathalia in mute testament. "But until then? Nothing. Not even a /sip/. Terrible."

"That was Ylynna." Rhaelyn supplies a name for Elgin on the heels of Lujayn's answer. It's a better time to answer the question once the other girl is off with her friends, "Yes, this dress, and the one I wore yesterday. The deal was, dresses for the gather and I'd spend some time meeting her friends." She shrugs a little, "That is how the weyr does things. Trade for goods with actions." Not a question. As for how she's enjoying it, there's a little shrug of her shoulders, "There are a lot of people." But fun? Perhaps not.

Nathalia responds "Shards and shells," The smith breathes horrified at the thought. "And I thought candidacy was bad." She sighs, listening to the testament of weyrlinghood with apt attention. "What's it like, having Szad in your head? I mean, does having him make up for all the chores and what not?" She seems thoughtful.

"It is a new experience, and one I am grateful to be having but a little loud." Elgin's tone is light and he offers a smile to the goldrider; a smile which promptly falls at Rhaelyn's comment. He studies her quietly for a moment, "Rhae - Just becareful with all that. It doesn't always work out well." Exhibit A. "You do look good in it though." He turns Lujayn and shrugs softly, "There are so many people sleeping in the barracks I couldn't tell you if someone belonged in them or not."

"Chores? Like, candidate chores?" Apparently that question is funny too, because Taikrin is guffawing again. "They never really were a thing. I'm used to way harder work, y'know? Reckon you'd be, too." But her gaze goes distant when she ponders Szadath and her bond, and she's quiet a moment before giving a noncommital shrug. "Hard to remember not havin' him in my head, t'be honest. Feels like he's always been there, like he's-- I mean, he's a part of me. And I'm a part of him." She pauses, then lets out another laugh to dismiss the sober thought. "It sounds weirder than it is, when it gets put like that."

"Goods as in tithes for a Weyr's protection, sure, but dresses for.. that?" Lujayn's lip curls in distaste, not particularly convinced. "That's taking it to extremes." She adds quietly in agreement with Elgin's cautionary words. "A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl, right?" Sensing the lack of enthusiasm, she tries to stir some cheer into the air. "Have you gotten a chance to look at any of the booths? Sometimes hanging out with the crafters is more fun than rubbing elbows with holder snobs."

Rhaelyn beams at Elgin's compliment, "Well, then it's worth letting some of those mainlanders have a look at me then." At least she can put a good spin on things. "And, Ylynna said that it might make the holders have my sympathy for us exiles, if they could see us and know we were...'safe'." She lifts up her shoulders, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." And no one could accuse Rhae of not having exile benefits first in her thoughts--after herself. "I had some time last evening to look, oh and and there was the dress-booth--that was amazing." Slowly remembering the better parts of her outing. "I heard they were showing off some fancy livestock too, but couldn't get free to see what the fuss was about."

Nathalia offers a thoughtful nod. "I suppose that's true, what did you do before you impressed?" She asks mildly, before the conversation turns to lifemates. "I've thought so much about it lately, and I still can't fathom it." She notes with a laugh. "Weird maybe, but it makes sense, I think it would be nice to have that kind of a bond. One 'person' who always has your back you know?"

"Oh, you know. Bit of this and that. I'm mine-bred, y'know." Taikrin flashes her free hand at Nathalia, wiggling fingers that bear the stereotypiacl traceries of thin white scars. "There's nothin' else like it. Better'n running with a crew, better'n your best girl, better'n-- well. Anything else. So you better sleep more and worry about Rhaelyn less; dragons like a well-rested candidate." She pauses, then adds with a bit of exasperation, "Hey, listen, you ain't seen Riorde around, have you? Island-girl, 'bout my height, dark hair? Been lookin' for her, and Szad says she's /here/ but he won't tell me where."

"Know we are safe by wearing dresses?" Elgin seems skeptical at best, and he crosses his arms, "Though it would be nice if some people would stop treating us like we have a disease they might catch. - Just not sure renting yourself for someone to show their friends is the best way to go about it." He stops short of saying she whored herself out. "There is a whole booth of dresses?" He grins slightly, "I wonder if there is one for robes, the thought of having to sew a white robe doesn't sound all that appealing."

Nathalia grins. "Mine bred huh? Remind me to buy you a drink sometime. If it weren't for the mines I wouldn't have any marks at all to spend." At mention of Rhaelyn she just sorta shrugs. "Not really worried about her, and yeah I suppose I can try and sleep, but night time here is just so shelling interesting." The girls brows pull together a moment at mention of the Island woman. "No I haven't but. . . how does Szad know she's here? Did he spot her?"

"They'll get there." Lujayn stops the stop-short, sensitive. "It's not their approval that'll get you anywhere, either. Just as long as you do what you're comfortable with, it's no one's business." She grins, still trying to smooth things over. "We'll supply you some old robes and you can fix them up if you want. Doesn't take a master weaver to sew up a tear," Reassuring Elgin, "But they probably have non-candidate robes, something more like cloaks or jackets. But it never hurts to be prepared, there's a good idea."

"Happy to get a drink, while you're still allowed," Taikrin agrees distractedly. She's scanning over the crowds again, her forehead wrinkling. "Can sense her. They can feel the minds of people they're familiar with, sometimes, sort of-- I ain't explainin' it right. But he knows she's around, somewhere. I really oughta-- be good, okay? Don't go lettin' the holders rile you up?" Because just like that, she's offering a wave to Nathalia and diving back into the crowd.

Rhaelyn rolls her eyes, "Nevermind Elgin." She drawls at him, too weary to get into a sparring match about choices that have already been played out. She smiles happily, soothed it seems. "Sorry Elgin, I was only looking at dresses." But it seems that Lujayn has better information, her smile widens even more, "Perhaps you could come along and show Elgin? I mean, unless he'd like a fixer-upper."

"Oh, well that seems easier, besides I'm sure I can talk one of the older islanders into fixing it for me." Could any granny say no to Elgin's face? "I don't mind the hand me down jackets." Elgin comments off hand, "They work just fine, what other kinds of booths do they have? Food?" The young male's stomach growls at just the thought of food. "Naw, I don't mind a fixer-upper, no point in spending marks on it if I can get it without 'em."

Beer finished, Nathalia smiles to the brown rider. "Certianly!" She furrows her brow a minute "I will be on my best behavior from this point on Promise." She offers at the retreating brown rider. Getting up, it seems she notices that the crowd she'd been avoiding has dispersed leaving that Lujayn, Rhaelyn, and it seems she finally notices Elgin's arrival. "Hi Elgin." She offers with a smile as she makes her way over, a polite smile and a wave for the goldrider.

"Food, and lots of it. Some crafters set up booths - harpers might sell smaller instruments, smiths with their metalworks, that kind of thing. Most folks come for eating and chatting," Lujayn points out the fairly obvious, nodding as Nathalia approaches. "Glad to see you're having a fine day." She doesn't act on any introductions herself. It does get tiring after the first few times. "Lots of people waste marks for the sake of appearance." The goldrider smiles at Elgin: more good thinking. "Not too fussed about that, I take it. I'd worry more about what happens on the day you need to wear the thing."

Rhaelyn agrees with the goldrider's information about the food with a nod, "I don't know who likes some of that food though. They had me eat a...what did she call it, a 'pepper'. From Ista I think." She fans at her face with a tragic look for the memory. As Nat comes to join them, she lifts a hand in silence. In a lull in the conversation she says, "Thanks. About earlier." Since she couldn't say anything at the time.

"Nathalia, how long have you been here?" Elgin supplies a friendly wave for his fellow candidate. "I can't get enough food these days, I would try anything. Never know what you might like. What was wrong with the pepper, Rhae?" Shifting his weight from one side to the other he nods at the goldrider, "Really seems like the least important part, not unimportant, just you know with everything else the potential life changing experience, the trying not to get run over by a hatchling..."

"Lujayn right? I am Nat," Nathalia offers in way of introductions, perhaps realizing that she'd forgotten her manners. As a thank you escapes Rhaelyn the smith just blinks a minute in surprise. "Your welcome. I . . . uh . . . sorry." She offers a shrug perhaps for any complications that might have followed. At Elgin's question there's a bright grin. "Long enough to get myself into trouble and out of it. Oh I have some things for Aella that I got yesterday. Maybe you could give them to her?" She remembers. She laughs at the thought of not getting run over by hatchlings.

Lujayn takes a slight step back, letting the younger lot catch up with each other. "If it makes you feel better, they don't aim for you intentionally. Not for the sake of running you over, that is." She smiles warmly. "Good to meet you, Nat. Promise I'm not avoiding you, but I need to sit down for a bit; it's been a long day. I'll be around for most of it, if you want to find me." The rider ducks out with a wave, headed for the long rows of benches where wine and conversation flow.

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Logs:Our Time Here

2011-12-04T19:24:27Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where =
| what = Reflecting on Teris' transfer
| when =
| gamedate = 2011.09.25
| quote = It could have been her.
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions = Teris
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn wasn't one of the people gathered to wish Teris good luck at Telgar. She wasn't all that emotionally invested, save for feeling that she had come within range of a very close call. Ten turns, and then ask for Iovniath's replacement? She was sure a swap hadn't been part of the original gossip-feeding arrival; it was only precedent and probably political savvy that added up to send Iskiveth and her unlaid clutch away. And all she could think was that it could have been her. So easily.

You've moved before.

You're flexible.

You're ''expendable''.

Fears, worries, anxious thoughts that had gnawed at her brain until the final decision was made. Teris and Iskiveth.

<< There she goes, >> Rielsath informed her rider with a sigh of ash and dimming firelight, seeing one of her own, one of her High Reaches irregulars, disappear in much the same manner as they'd gone to Igen. << Think she'll come back, like us? >>

It's hard to say, Distracted. Passive. Lu shuffled the papers on her desk around and tried to refocus her eyes. I don't think so. They usually don't. Still there, still a Reachian, still home. Not going anywhere.

<< But we did. We always come back, >> The gold asserted, << I knew we would. >>

''Can't come back if you don't leave, She mused, putting the pen down at last. Time for a break. Let's go get you washed. The springs are hot!''

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Logs:Clutter

2011-12-04T19:24:12Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where = Lujayn's Weyr, High Reaches
| what = Lujayn clears some space to reshape her inner world.
| when =
| gamedate = 2011.08.01
| quote = Put the past away.
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Everything was just the same. Lujayn stood halfway in one of her makeshift 'doors', glass beads catching the light and tangling her hair. They were appealing, but too familiar. And the mantelpiece, the bookshelf, every open space on the three-quarter walls had been devoted to turns' worth of knickknacks and sentimental objects. Clutter had never bothered the woman before, but not it was getting on her nerves.

She would ask for a different, smaller weyr if Rielsath's size and color didn't relegate her to the spacious ground weyrs. All the open room was depressingly spare without extra furnishings but suffocating with the decorations that she'd kept hanging around. She didn't use it for entertaining or meetings. Lu just lived there, and didn't take up a lot of room herself.

It was time for a change.

<< There is too much out in the open, >> Rielsath agreed when convinced to stick her snout into the smaller space. << Where do you hide? >> A pause. << Kellnith has shown me that her rider has things built into the walls. >> An image of little nooks and crannies, idiosyncrasies of a cliffside weyr, twisting and turning with the shape of the bowl. << Or Hroxeth says .. plants. >>

"Plants we've got." Lujayn was half-listening. "I should put some of these away." Looking into her bookcase, seeing an old clay sculpture she'd clung to, little gifts from people long distanced, more sentimental junk gathering dust. It wasn't her style. Did she have a style?

<< I like it. It's yours. >> Rielsath approved of the simple treasure trove in her own youthful way, but Lujayn felt she was fast outgrowing the trappings of fond memories.

By the end of the day there was a rather large box filled with odds and ends, much less dust, and an oddly giddy feeling creeping into her heart as she looked at the spartan weyr. She could start over again. Maybe settling down was a matter for the inside-out, not the other way around.

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Logs:Worth the trouble

2011-12-04T19:23:53Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where =
| what = Rescue vignette.
| when = Month 13, Turn 25
| gamedate = 2011.06.12
| quote = She promised she'd be back.
| weather =
| categories = islanders, vignette
| mentions = Kiyora
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn had seen more than her fair share of the records room since returning from that horrible rocky island. There had been more debate and more indecision than she cared for, but in the end it was resolved. She had a storm to thank for it - and that was the upside.

Rielsath was pleased, there was no doubt about that. Her superior demeanor would have been too much to bear had Lu not agreed with her dragon. Dealing with so many people, every exile in emotional upheaval - tears, fright, manic excitement - was worth the trouble. Coaxing a younger girl here, pushing a frozen-footed man forward with firm hands, taking the basket of berries gently from the hands of an older woman who insisted the harvest couldn't go to waste. "There's plenty of food where we're going." And when the berries were gone, the woman Kiyora clutched at her own skinny ribs, jaws clenched. Feet planted in stubborn defiance, childish and surly. Despite her best efforts, Lujayn felt a rush of disgust and impatience for this grown woman.

"I won't go. This is our home."

"Weather the storm if you can or come to safety. No one's coming back for a second rescue mission, lady. You'll be on your own and dead in a sevenday."

<< Could've just picked these guys up right away and saved all this trouble, >> The gold huffed to Lu, but lowered herself obligingly. One by one her back was saddled with her treasure, the one she'd been denied upon first discovery. << Do I get to keep any? >>

It was hard for the junior to keep from laughing, but bit by bit she was able to get everyone seated. Upon realizing they had no idea how to properly strap themselves in, she was scampering back down to keep the weeping girl in place. "Hold on real tight and don't look down," She whispered, a moment later slapping the hand of a man who was trying to retie his own straps. "Don't. Unless you want to fall off in the ocean before we've hit Between."

The simplest of warnings brought an onslaught of questions. What's between? I thought dragons were safe to ride on. Where's my brother? I forgot my basket...

"You can make another." Trying to be sympathetic, firm, and authoritative all at once was a skill she'd been honing over the turns since her Impression. It was finally coming in handy. "Everyone hold on."

To the exiles on her back, Rielsath sent a haze of warmth, golden lights dim on the horizon, promising - as much as she could - that they were going to a better place. << Let's fly now, that woman is going to get loose again! >> The shock of going aloft was enough to stop anyone from their attempts to dismount, cries of surprise and sharp inhales echoing before the darkness of Between hit.

One. Hopefully no one had fallen off.

Two. Or wet themselves.

Three. Or concealed a knife in their belt.

Emerging over the Weyr, Lujayn could tell at least one of those things had happened. More trouble than golden paradise could be on the horizon very soon. But...

<< They're worth it. >>

"They're worth it."

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Logs:Get in the game

2011-12-04T19:23:16Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where =
| what =
| when =
| gamedate = 2011.05.17
| quote = Just a little peek.
| weather =
| categories = islanders, vignette
| mentions = V'teri
| icons =
| log =

It was easy to watch the straws being gathered in the fist, too easy to track which might be shorter than the rest. Lu squeezed her eyes shut as the rider went around and roles were drawn.

''Treasure hunt''. She'd heard, among other things. Lujayn was plenty excited, heartbeat picking up as she heard details of maps and old tales, quadrants and assigned teams. She'd felt so lackluster since coming 'home,' a feeling she had long since anticipated would fade within the month. But it had been several and she still missed the taste of camelid.

<< Just a little peek. >> Rielsath echoed her own thoughts with mirrored shimmers. << You know we'd be the best. >>

Lujayn knew all too well. Reaching out her hand, she stared at the short straw for a moment before nodding in assent. The grin came without being asked. "We're all in."

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Logs:Advice from a queen

2011-12-04T19:22:41Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where =
| what = Rielsath exerts her own will on Lujayn.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.11.27
| quote = << Stay home. >>
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions = X'lar
| icons =
| log =

Rielsath was a dragon of few words at the moment, weaving a cloak of light and warmth to wrap her rider's mind. Lujayn was fed up with talking, anyhow. She only wanted to write. Her pen scratched out spiky words, neither printed nor in flowing script, meandering across the page as haphazardly as her thoughts: unable to follow a straight line for more than a few moments. Maybe it was a letter, a journal, or just something to occupy both the mind and hands.

She could feel her dragon fiercely, the gold providing all kinds of satisfying scenarios from what she would have done, somehow separate from the protective cocoon of support. Screaming. Hitting. Making him sorry however she could.

<< He hurt you, >> The single-mindedness was reassuring. << Don't let him. >>

Single-mindedness was for dragons, at least in matters of the heart, and Lujayn wasn't so convinced X'lar had all the blame on his shoulders. I could have done things differently, It wasn't the first time she had wondered. How much of it was my fault? She felt young for the first time in turns, trying to sort out something too complex, too fragile for her clumsy hands. She felt restless.

<< None of it. >> The provided light was blinding, obscuring the outside world. If there was a threat to her Lujayn, Rielsath would make sure it never got close. A chill swept through Rielsath's light, making the goldrider wonder if her dragon's attention was caught elsewhere, but the warmth soon returned, softer and sleepier. Dimmer. << Stay home. >>

Lujayn did.

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Logs:The monster scarf

2011-12-04T19:21:05Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn
| where =
| what = Lujayn learns how to knit and not much else. Maybe asking how to bind off would have been a good idea.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.07.02
| quote = Everyone needs a hobby.
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions = Milani
| icons =
| log =

<< Why does it take so long? >>

Rielsath didn't have the patience to sit and watch her rider knit. She would sun, she would swim, but the existence of a project inevitably drew the gold back to ask questions. Or more accurately, the same question. Patient or no, it was downright fun to watch something come into being where there had only been a tangle of yarn before.

<< Lujayn, how many rows have you finished since this morning?

..since I was oiled?

..since dinner?

How many.. ? >>

The rectangle got longer day by day, a fluffy scarlet snake coiled on her chair when she wasn't knitting on it. Nothing fancy, but it was the product of her own time and the materials from her own purse. Lu couldn't remember being so satisfied in months. Maybe once hers was done she could make one more, five more, as many as she could manage. The winter wind howled outside, but inside the weyr was toasty warm. It was her own little world.

Late one night, the rider put down her needles after a long stretch only to discover the garment had grown to monstrous proportions. Knitting back and forth was simple enough, but she didn't know how to make it any shorter. And as a matter of fact...

<< You don't remember how to make it stop, do you, >> Somehow amused by Lujayn's oversight, Rielsath raised her head to eye the scarf. << Well, it might fit me if you do a few more. >>

It was too late to find any of the old aunties to ask them about binding off the stiches. Her klah was still warm in its mug, and the glows weren't too dim yet. Settling back in her seat, Lu took up the needles again and started another row. If it was going to be amazingly long, she might as well make it properly so.

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Logs:An almost-escape

2011-12-04T19:20:24Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Skies, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Straps strapped on at last? Lujayn unwittingly places herself at Rielsath's mercy during their first manned flight.
| when = Month 2, Turn 16
| gamedate = 2008.04.05
| quote = << I want to show you something! >>
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions = Zunaeth, I'daur
| icons =
| log =

Rielsath had spent every spare moment complaining about the straps, or at least the times when she remembered they were there.

<< They fit funny. They're rough. And they're still stupid. Hello? D'you hear me? They get in my way! >>

Lujayn just counted herself fortunate that she had been able to coax the gold into them in the first place. Complaints were a small price to pay for the hard-earned victory.

"Another adjustment, then. Let's get more padding around your chest. Stupid or not, we'll use 'em." And so it went, give and take. Fighting the good fight.

Rielsath seemed to forget all of these grievances when the moment finally came. Fidgeting in the bowl, tail lashing excitedly at a too-close Kellnith, she hardly sat still enough for Lujayn to find a comfortable place to sit. Crouched low and still finding ways to remain constantly moving as Lu tried to fasten the straps - wings flicking, paws shuffling from side to side, making little starts forward - she turned so sharply that the tall girl found herself unseated, tumbling the few feet back to the snow-covered ground. Peering curiously down at her lifemate, nearly dancing in place, the innocent gold tilted her head. What's this, the mighty strap-defender down on her luck?

<< Told you they were stupid. >>

"Get back down here." Lujayn hauled herself up into place for what felt like the hundredth time, one hand now firmly holding to the strap before her as she buckled herself into place. It was rather like riding a skittish runnerbeast, and they weren't even in the air yet. "Sit still!"

Distracted as Rielsath was, she was still paying attention. As soon as that last strap was secured, she knew. And there was no need to sit still. Lean limbs coiling, wings snapping open as they were meant to do, a rush of wind. That warm darkness yet again, though the winds were freezing...

<< Open your eyes, you're going to miss it all! >>

**Sky above the Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#848RIJaes)
You fly just a few dragonlengths above the bowl floor. The morning rays of Rukbat peek over the eastern edge of the bowl, lighting the westernmost of the Seven Spindles with a harsh light: they seem even more jagged than usual. Far to the north, you can barely see the white-capped peaks of the Northern Barrier Range as the sunlight begins its futile effort to melt the ever present snow.

A slight wind from the southwest almost seems to carry with it the scent of the apple orchards from Nabol, though perhaps it's just your imagination. Far below you, however, you can see rush about the weyr: people, looking more like trundlebugs from this height, scurry to and fro with their chores.

On the eastern lip of the bowl, the Star Stones begin the day as they always have: standing a silent vigil over the Weyr.**

<< Come on, come on, I want to show you something! >> Open.

It was much smaller than she remembered. Lujayn's mouth opened in an exclamation that never came. Stolen by the cold winds whipping past, or by her lifemate's exultant mind. She was relieved to feel the straps holding her in place as Rielsath took a steep turn, diving down only to rise on a gust of cold air, wheeling dizzyingly upwards. Again she tried to work her mouth, but the words were ripped away as easily as before. And still Rielsath was rising.

**Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#844RIJaes)
As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occasional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles.

Through the first and second spires, you can see out to the mountains surrounding the weyr. If you know just where to look, you can also glimpse part of the winding road leading to the Weyr. Ledges are hewn into the rock face in all directions, each with a dragon's weyr behind it.

The winds here are usually calm, with the protection of the Weyr's walls to keep the worst gusts at bay. Still, flying can be a little difficult as an errant thermal sometimes crosses the bowl.**

''We shouldn't go much higher, they want us to come back down-'' Gathering enough wits about her to resume the tried and true mental conversation of dragonriders, Lujayn realized she hadn't said a single thing to initiate this. Hadn't told her dragon to take off, to turn or dive, to go higher so the group of weyrling dragons below were just colored flecks in the snow.

Interrupted. << It doesn't matter what they want, isn't this what you want? >> Less acrobatics, fewer harsh winds. Nearly a standstill, floating upwards. A rare peace, away from everything and everyone. Even Rielsath felt distant, but Lujayn knew her dragon was so close there was no telling their minds apart. Now she fell into place, urged her on.

''Higher.''

**Sky Far above the High Reaches Mountains
Even as the winds play about, you cannot help but notice the landscape around you. Below, High Reaches Weyr is only recognizable by the Seven Spindles; any other details are lost from this altitude. The snow-capped peaks of the north and east form a barrier across the land, blocking the view of Crom and Nabol Holds. Looking southeast, the Western Mountain Range looks almost tame and easy enough to simply walk over, while directly south you can make out one of the river spurs. To the northwest, your eyes can just barely discern High Reaches Hold, noticeable only due to the slight wisps of smoke coming from it. And as you look southeastwards, the great Western Sea stretches to infinity, as the Tillek Peninsula juts into it.**

There are words without letters to them, feelings that shouldn't be able to exist. Lu's light-headed wonder betrays her into a stupor, Rielsath twisting gracefully through the air, beyond responding to anything her rider might say.

The scalding command from Zunaeth is hot enough to startle them both, burning up stunned silence into action, so that the gold's dive is immediate and Lujayn's wonder-loosened grip flies free. Her stomach rises with the seat of her pants, but steadfast buckles keep the weyrling in place. Down, down, down, a missile from the sun itself. Past the spires, into the bowl. Her body tugs up against Rielsath's building momentum. The straps hold.

The landing is rough and sudden, Rielsath's signature sliding halt sending up snow and dirt in great waves to either side. Others mutter, I'daur looms, but Lujayn can only smile giddily as her dragon dares anyone to scold. There are a dozen things one could say to the other, but somehow it's Lujayn that gets the last word, tugging heartily on the handle-strap for emphasis.

''I told you so.''

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Logs:Contrary Rielsath

2011-12-04T19:20:12Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn has completed her first set of straps, wheedled approval out of I'daur, but Rielsath refuses.
| when = Month 12, Turn 15
| gamedate = 2008.04.09
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

They're well-oiled, freshly made, and perfect in every sense of the word. As perfect as a weyrling could hope for, at least. Lujayn holds the chest straps in her arms, leaning forward in an almost pleading manner to her dragon, who's crouched down low. Her wings tuck close to her body, protecting it from those much-hated fetterings.

<< I don't want to wear those silly things! >> It's been a long argument, but Rielsath's reason hasn't changed in the slightest, a contrast to Lujayn's many attempts to find purchase in her dragon's mind. I don't want to. You can't make me. We don't need them.

She's made them herself, slaved over getting them just right, and so these words are somehow more painful than anything Lu has ever heard. Still, she doesn't let herself back down.

<< ... I wouldn't ever let you fall, why do they think they need to tie you to me like the Weyr idiot ... >> Never mind that all of the adult dragons wear straps without a complaint. Never mind that the rest of the weyrling class is already making and testing their own sets. It certainly doesn't matter that they won't be allowed to fly together without proper safety precautions. Lujayn has a sneaking suspicion she will be held especially accountable for this rule, with such a headstrong lifemate beneath her.

She knows what Rielsath wants to hear: No one needs to know, we'll just break the rules. So wear these straps and we'll fool 'em. But it's not going to happen this time. Lujayn sets the straps down, her months-long endeavor, and retreats to the bowl without a word. It was the same yesterday. It will be the same tomorrow.

Alone and out of sight, Rielsath rises from her stiff position. She noses lightly at one of the straps, hooking her snout under it, eying the padded girth and clicking her talons against the buckles, curiosity slowly turning to childish delight. A laugh echoes from the bowl - Sevierth and S'trun are coming! Rielsath is back upon her couch in a flash of sunfire, the straps discarded in a heap on the floor. All appearances intact: the dragonet seems to be just rousing herself from a long nap when the others enter, neck stretching slowly with a yawn. Oh, what's that left out in the middle of the barracks?

<< She never puts stuff back when she's done with it. >>

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Logs:Loyalty

2011-12-04T19:19:47Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatching feast. Dragon-rider bonding ensues.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.04.08
| quote = Absolutely no hesitation.
| weather =
| categories = vignette
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn lies awake, though around her couches are filled with dutifully slumbering Weyrlings and dragons alike. Thinking back, it was hard to believe. It had been true on the sands, in the barracks, and all those places in between, but it had taken so much more for Lujayn to realize that Rielsath had chosen her. It had taken tears, the memory of home and the face of an old friend, because part of her, however small and secret, had been convinced the hatching would see her back at Fort. She would resume a runner's life again, a familiar job in a familiar place, but instead everything had changed.

"Rielsath is here," She'd said, almost without thinking. It had been so natural, no question at all in her mind that she would choose her lifemate over everything she had ever known. Absolutely no hesitation. Was that what defined a dragon and rider pair?

A soft stirring from the gold makes Lujayn take pause, alert for a possible wakening of her lifemate. << Of course you chose me. I did the same for you. >> And that's that. Easing back into silent warmth, comforting and soft, secure in mutual loyalty, they find sleep.

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Logs:Contrary Rielsath

2011-12-04T19:19:21Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn has completed her first set of straps, wheedled approval out of I'daur, but Rielsath refuses.
| when = Month 12, Turn 15
| gamedate = 2008.04.09
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = vignette_logs
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

They're well-oiled, freshly made, and perfect in every sense of the word. As perfect as a weyrling could hope for, at least. Lujayn holds the chest straps in her arms, leaning forward in an almost pleading manner to her dragon, who's crouched down low. Her wings tuck close to her body, protecting it from those much-hated fetterings.

<< I don't want to wear those silly things! >> It's been a long argument, but Rielsath's reason hasn't changed in the slightest, a contrast to Lujayn's many attempts to find purchase in her dragon's mind. I don't want to. You can't make me. We don't need them.

She's made them herself, slaved over getting them just right, and so these words are somehow more painful than anything Lu has ever heard. Still, she doesn't let herself back down.

<< ... I wouldn't ever let you fall, why do they think they need to tie you to me like the Weyr idiot ... >> Never mind that all of the adult dragons wear straps without a complaint. Never mind that the rest of the weyrling class is already making and testing their own sets. It certainly doesn't matter that they won't be allowed to fly together without proper safety precautions. Lujayn has a sneaking suspicion she will be held especially accountable for this rule, with such a headstrong lifemate beneath her.

She knows what Rielsath wants to hear: No one needs to know, we'll just break the rules. So wear these straps and we'll fool 'em. But it's not going to happen this time. Lujayn sets the straps down, her months-long endeavor, and retreats to the bowl without a word. It was the same yesterday. It will be the same tomorrow.

Alone and out of sight, Rielsath rises from her stiff position. She noses lightly at one of the straps, hooking her snout under it, eying the padded girth and clicking her talons against the buckles, curiosity slowly turning to childish delight. A laugh echoes from the bowl - Sevierth and S'trun are coming! Rielsath is back upon her couch in a flash of sunfire, the straps discarded in a heap on the floor. All appearances intact: the dragonet seems to be just rousing herself from a long nap when the others enter, neck stretching slowly with a yawn. Oh, what's that left out in the middle of the barracks?

<< She never puts stuff back when she's done with it. >>

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Logs:Loyalty

2011-12-04T19:19:03Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatching feast. Dragon-rider bonding ensues.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.04.08
| quote = Absolutely no hesitation.
| weather =
| categories = vignette_logs
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn lies awake, though around her couches are filled with dutifully slumbering Weyrlings and dragons alike. Thinking back, it was hard to believe. It had been true on the sands, in the barracks, and all those places in between, but it had taken so much more for Lujayn to realize that Rielsath had chosen her. It had taken tears, the memory of home and the face of an old friend, because part of her, however small and secret, had been convinced the hatching would see her back at Fort. She would resume a runner's life again, a familiar job in a familiar place, but instead everything had changed.

"Rielsath is here," She'd said, almost without thinking. It had been so natural, no question at all in her mind that she would choose her lifemate over everything she had ever known. Absolutely no hesitation. Was that what defined a dragon and rider pair?

A soft stirring from the gold makes Lujayn take pause, alert for a possible wakening of her lifemate. << Of course you chose me. I did the same for you. >> And that's that. Easing back into silent warmth, comforting and soft, secure in mutual loyalty, they find sleep.

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Logs:Thoughts like sinking stones

2011-12-04T01:49:31Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, P'draig
| where = Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
| what = Skipping stones.
| when = day 11, month 10, Turn 11
| gamedate = 2007.MM.DD
| quote = Two more minutes.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Autumn is in full swing at Fort and it's definitely too cold to swim in the lake now. The Weyrlingmaster is ambling along the shoreline, hands stuck in jacket pockets, a scarf slung loosely about his neck against evening's chill. It's getting dark out, the last of the sunset fading into twiglight and the breeze scuds across the lake's surface causing white-capped waves. A moment or two pass and then the brownrider loosely kicks a rock into the lake. *thunk* Ripples spread from where the rock went in, fighting against the direction of the waves.

Lujayn is sitting near the shore, looking a little damp below the knees as if she has tried wading in said icy lake. She watches the waves, distracted by that *plunk* that is P'draig's rock. She looks back with a little smile and a wave. "'Lo, P'draig."

P'draig looks up from his walk and grins. "Heya, Lu," friendly-like. He approaches the girl and eyes the lake. "Mind some company? I like to skip stones out here sometimes when I've got a lot on my mind." A handful of suitably flat stones appears in his palm from his pocket and he offers one over to her. "What's the most skips you've ever gotten?"

"I don't mind at all. And.." Lu thinks, taking one of the smooth stones with a nod. "A few. I think I'm pretty good once I get going, actually." Her fingers curve around the rock, testing its weight as she looks out to the water. "Are you skipping stones because you have a lot on your mind right now?" She picks up on that tack fairly quickly, flicking her wrist and letting the stone fly. It skips once before vanishing.

P'draig turns the handful of stones over, finally selecting one. "Yep. I am," says the Weyrlingmaster and sends his stone after hers. It hops four times and sinks under the waves. He's had a lot of practice it seems. "How're you doing? Been doing a lot of running?"

Lujayn begins to scout for more suitable stones, bending over to feel along the rough shoreline. Musing over one choice in particular, she watches him throw. "Definitely. I didn't think I'd gotten so out of practice, but it just happened.." This time the stone, forcefully thrown, skips three times. Lu smiles. "I need to get back in the swing of things."

"Yep, nothing to do for that but practice," says P'draig amiably and flicks another one of the stones he apparently searches for and collects frequently out into the water again. Three full skips and the last sort of peters out and dies, the stone turning on its side and vanishing beneath the surface.

"What about you?" Lujayn takes her time before her next throw, walking a few feet down the shore. "Working hard? I haven't seen you around for a few days." She tosses the rock between hands, not letting it go just yet.

The Weyrlingmaster's head bobs up and down. "Yep. Lots of work to do." He grins and sorts through the three remaining stones in his hand. "Lots going on in general, trying to sort it all out." P'draig picks out a stone and it dangles loosely from his hand, not thrown yet. "Ever been caught between a rock and a hard place?"

Lujayn inspects her last stone while P'draig speaks, tossing it absently. It doesn't even skip once. The runner sighs and watches it sink. "Yeah." She doesn't ask any questions, though a look in her eye says she is clearly dying to do so. "Not a lot of times, but some. Enough." Lu shakes her head and plants herself down for a sit, watching the waves come and go once more.

"Yeah," echoes P'draig and skips the stone out onto the lake. One, two. Plonk. Gone. "Doing the right thing isn't always easiest," an elaboration of sorts. "What's the hardest thing you've ever had to do?" He looks over at Lu curiously.

Lujayn watches P'draig curiously. The right thing? "I've never thought about it before." She switches her gaze to her feet, scuffing at the sand. "Being a candidate is one of the hardest things I can remember. But I didn't /have/ to." Lu toys with that word. "I suppose being a runner was, too. Or at least getting my foot in the door. I really had to prove I could do something before they'd take me on." She shrugs. "Anyone can run, it's just how and why you run that matters. I like it."

"Mm. Candidacy is a tough 'yes'." P'draig muses and flips one more stone out. This one fails to skip at all, caught on the side of frothy wave. "How'd you get started with being a runner again? And ... what's the why for you?" The last stone in his hands shifts from palm to palm, fingers running over the smooth outward edge.

"It almost just kind of.. happened." Lujayn rests her chin on her hands. "I took messages all the time when I was little. Aunties said it was the only way to keep me from getting into everything. Then I got to be older, and by that time I didn't want to do anything else. Like a habit." The next question is harder. "I like running; I like being able to just run and not worry about anything else, or without anyone else around. It takes more skill than people ever think about."

"Hobby, turned habit, turned way of life ...hmm" P'draig's expression turns thoughtful. "Cooking was like that for me, you get into a zone ..." he trails off and shrugs.

Lujayn nods in agreement. "Exactly." She picks up another rock, nowhere near flat, and lobs it out just to hear the satisfying *plunk* it makes upon hitting the water. "What's bothering you?" She asks after a few long moments of silence, noticing the thoughtful look again.

"I miss doing nothing but cooking somtimes. Wouldn't trade Jekzith for the world, but..." he shrugs again and then smiles. "Sadly, it's something that I'm not sure a kid your age should be hearing about," continues the Weyrlingmaster with chuckle and then makes big eyes. "Relationship stuff."

Lujayn purses her lips in an almost-pout, looking stubbornly up at P'draig. "I'm fourteen in a month." She objects. "But I see you in the kitchens all the time. Or I used to; I'm not much there myself anymore. Sometimes must be better than never."

"Sometimes is better than never, yep, right now though, there's not much time for cooking. Later. Maybe." He smiles again and looks out over the water, tossing the last rock. "Don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up. Things get complicated."

"At least it's hard to avoid running," Lujayn reasons, watching the last stone go. "It seems you can do so many things once you're older. Nice to know I can't get any younger."

"More and less at the same time." Cryptic again, P'draig drops down into a seat, knees drawn up slightly, elbows propped atop them, hand dangling a little. "There's a lot to be said for not having /too/ much responsibility." He winks over at the runner then looks back out over the lake, any vestige of light utterly gone now, replaced by twinkling stars, the sliver of one moon, the other almost full.

Lujayn is still, just looking out over the water quietly. Words pass as the stars shine, her eyes adjusting to the darkness to see them all the better. "I'll let you know if it gets any more exciting." She grins at the wink. "Times like this, now, those are worth not having anything to do."

The laughter starts out low and then turns merry. "Hear, hear," says P'draig in between laughs. "Time's pressing on though, gotta go do Barracks check in a minute. Make sure they're all dossed down for the night. Did you get dinner?"

Lujayn shakes her head. "If you have to go check on them, I can get dinner and tell everyone how responsible you are." She teases, but doesn't look eager to leave the shore.

The Weyrlingmaster laughs again. "In a minute." P'draig leans forward a little to rest his chin on his forearm, falling silent as he contemplates the lake's restless waters, the reflection of the moons appears, ruffled out in the depths.

Lujayn laughs quietly, taking the cue from P'draig to stay where she is. The night is chilly but not yet bitter, and the runner is content to sit for as long as anyone would let her. She watches the stars first before glancing aside to the Weyrlingmaster, and finally following his gaze out to the water. "Two minutes."

"Okay. Two," concedes P'draig, sitting in companionable silence while more and more stars peek out a veritable river high above in the inky blackness. Among them shines the comet, no longer a wonder to behold, but the Weyrlingmaster's gaze avoids the brilliance of that flying object until the night's chill and the call of duty send him and the runner off in separate directions.

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Logs:Tapped into Aurora

2011-12-03T22:21:52Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Satiet
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Satiet and Lujayn share drinks at the Snowasis. Rielsath is insanely curious.
| when = Day 6, Month 3, Turn 16
| gamedate = 2008.04.28
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Of all places to be summoned by the weyrwoman, the Snowasis seems to be an unlikely bet given it's informal attitude and the general leisure that hangs about the cavern. Still, when Teonath ventures forth sand-dusted clouds of thought towards the winter bright queen, it's to request Lujayn's presence in the aforementioned bar, where the raven-haired woman sits waiting, legs crossed, on a stool at the counter. Two clear, glass mugs rest before Satiet, the contents of which appear to be some liquor klah concoction.

Dragon> Rielsath bespoke Lujayn with << What does she want? Tell me, tell me... >>

Rielsath's reply is curious and shimmering, urging her rider quickly to the Snowasis and hovering around Teonath's mind for any clues about the reason of the meeting. Lujayn is a bit less excited than her lifemate, though she wears a smile as she enters the cavern at a much slower pace than the young gold would prefer. "Good afternoon," She greets Satiet before settling onto the next stool over. Perched there, she leans towards the counter, not yet reaching for either drink. "Rielsath got the message along pretty quickly."

Dragon> A dancing ring of reflected light, dapples skipping up from puddles and others glinting from snow, all hovering expectantly. Rielsath's fearsome curiosity has stirred. No questions for now, but the shimmering lights nearly ring out themselves. (Rielsath to Teonath)

Rielsath's shimmering curiosity is batted away by her dam, careless licks of smoke flickering up into that hovering in efforts to cloud and shroud her own thoughts from the younger gold. But in the shrouding is a thread of indulgence, silvered about the edges and lifting sporadically in tantalizing snippets of very vague, amorphous 'what might bes.' "She did," Satiet agrees, a hand scooting one of those steaming mugs towards Lujayn. "And we appreciate her alacrity." Though the slender woman doesn't offer up her own smile, she's relaxed, her shoulders rolled back easily and the tilt of her head less appraising of this weyrling and more welcoming. "Did you enjoy the ball? Did you," a beat skips, pale eyes narrowing faintly in thought of that night, "Go to the ball?"

"Of course I went," Lujayn reaches to grab the sliding mug, pulling it closer as she reminisces. "I'm glad I got a chance to visit the weavercraft beforehand, so I wasn't just a weasel in trousers and boots." Rielsath's focus fills up the silence as the girl takes a sip, adjusting mirrors and angles in the background of her mind to focus each little beam of light on a single point, trying to pierce the smoke offered up by Teonath. "It was a spectacular event. The best I can remember."

Ah, the weasel. Enlightenment dawns in Satiet's un-narrowed eyes, a curt nod afforded this knowledge. Her lips quirk to one side, fingers playing an idle dance about the glass mug's handle. "Did you enjoy dancing with your weyrlingmaster then?" It's much easier to spot I'daur, masked or not apparently; the cane gives him away.

Lujayn mirrors the small smile, perhaps channeling a bit of the weasel for the time being, or more likely Rielsath as the gold's persistent thoughts continue to hover, looking for an opening. "He needs some fun." She shrugs, feet swinging idly as they dangle from her stool's high seat. "Did you know it was me all along? I thought it was hard to tell."

In the repositioned mirrors that pierce light through her clouds, Teonath rumbles a low-toned amusement, the experience of years deftly bringing more smoke, backlit by a bonfire's flames, to shroud her thoughts. "The costume," Satiet begins, her mug lifted to hover below her lips, "Was striking enough to be noticed. That it was you?" The goldrider's pale, clear eyes slant sidelong to sweep up and down Lujayn's athletic frame, only to stop at those gray eyes. "Was more difficult." As for I'daur, the slight woman shifts in her stool a bit, one leg dropping to dangle inches, more like feet, away from the floor, and then remarks, "He does. But he'd say he finds fun enough in his bottles. Did you," Satiet tips her head again, her turn to be curious, "Happen to notice who he came with?"

Light met by more light, Rielsath attempts to insinuate herself into the flickering flames, using her own fiery arsenal to sneak down through the smokescreen. Perhaps a bit of damp, some ice melting under the sun's glare. What fuel burns there? "Oh, good." Lujayn looks pleased, relaxing even as her dragon insists that she pry at the meeting's purpose. "Glad it wasn't obvious." Gray eyes blink once, bright and curious despite the casual conversation. "I'daur mentioned someone called Anouka a few times, but I didn't recognize the name." She admits after a moment. Another sip, another shrug. "There's more kinds of fun than drinking. Nothing wrong with a little change."

There's a telling pause on the weyrwoman's face, the delicate features frozen for just a second before a crafted smile emerges, not unpleasant, but not cheerful either. "Ah. Her." The explanation follows with in a two-worded response, "His ex-weyrmate." But enlightened again, Satiet tucks this information away with a succession of head nods before moving on. The mug falls to the table, one hand curled about it, the other rested at the counter's edge. "Rielsath's persistent. Almost child-like. She reminds me of one of my daughters."

Lujayn watches all the more closely, the answer coming before she can press a question upon Satiet. There's more interesting things to discuss than ex-weyrmates and escorts at a ball, so the young goldrider plunges onwards. "Rielsath is Teonath's daughter," A thoughtful tilt of the head, tucking a strand of tawny hair behind one ear. "So she's /almost/ your daughter. By association, or something like that." She laughs briefly, grinning with that teasing look. "Think if she keeps at it long enough she'll get somewhere?"

The hand at the counter's edge drops, falling into the folds of Satiet's pants and when it reemerges, lays the intricate cords of a junior queenrider's knot on the counter with the badge of Aurora tucked in the middle of the double loops. "I-," Satiet pauses, a rather perturbed blink overcoming what she meant to say as the image of Rielsath as her daughter, by association even, falters her train of thought. "Oh Faranth, no." Face contorted a little, as the image imprints that much more deeply, the raven-haired woman shuts her eyes and shakes her head quickly though the older gold's merriment at Lujayn's conclusion wafts the smoke clouds away to reveal an image of Rielsath flanking Teonath's side in flight and fight.

The weyrwoman's negation of her idea makes Lujayn smile all the wider, laughing that much longer. Both of those merry habits freeze when the knot appears; though she knew it eventually had to happen it's hardly less of a surprise. Rielsath's mind swoops joyfully down through the smokeless opening, sparks of exultant brightness flickering here and there. Yes, yes, yes. Delight shared by dragon and rider alike, Lujayn dares to grin again. "It was a good idea, at least. Is Teonath telling the truth?" There's the knot, the image from Satiet's gold, and still she asks. "Are we ready?"

Teonath, amused, watches this spectacle in her mind without much to add to it; what more could she conceivably say or convey now? "I imagine if you're not ready now, you'll never be." Dry, that quip, Satiet is nonetheless affable in her inclined head. "I won't give you pretty speeches of being honored to fly with you, or if you'll honor me by flying in Aurora. We'll discuss the terms of your new rank and what kind of duties you'll perform in the future with Jaispe. For now," the weyrwoman tilts her head to the side and slips off that stool, "We should be sure not to be late for the lower caverns staff meeting, yes?"

Lujayn nods, collecting the knot carefully. "That works just fine. I'm sure there are a lot of.." Something akin to panic flashes across her expression, though it's less severe. It might as well be 'ack!', but the smile doesn't disappear; that makes it that much more of a fleeting manic moment. "That's right, the meeting." Down goes the rest of the klah, mug set upon the counter with a heavy thud. Slipping off the stool, she starts off purposefully, maybe with a bit more of a spring in her step than her usual energy would provide. "Let's go."

They could walk in hand in hand, arms swinging and cheerful. However that's not Satiet, and that kind of behavior might scare Lujayn. Instead, the weyrwoman begins a brisk pace out to the lower caverns and the meeting venue, expectant that the newly made junior will tag along.

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Logs:Star Stones Secrets

2011-12-03T22:17:48Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = E'gin, Lujayn | where = Star Stones, High Reaches Weyr | what = Rielsath calls Vysravth and E'gin down from the skies and gives them a not-so-puzzling puzzle. Luja..."

{{ Log
| who = E'gin, Lujayn
| where = Star Stones, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Rielsath calls Vysravth and E'gin down from the skies and gives them a not-so-puzzling puzzle. Lujayn avoids.
| when = day 25, month 5, turn 27
| gamedate = 2011.12.03
| quote =
| weather = A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but
there is no rainfall today.
| categories = exiles
| mentions = K'del, E'dre
| icons =
| log =

Bugles muted by the fog and clouds obscuring the High Reaches sky, dragons come and go in the morning bustle. Rielsath may be showing some signs of widening around the middle, but she's still perfectly able to fly up to the Star Stones for a turn at watch duty. Watching the moon fade away as the sun brightens behind the veil, her mind reaches out. << You should come, >> She breathes warm life to Vysravth, the calling of dawn to a dark mind.

When Rielsath's call comes E'gin and Vysravth are just returning from sweeps. They seem set on flying back to their ledge, but the gold's warm calling makes the pair bank steeply. E'gin dismounts after the brown lands on the Star Stones. "The view is nice," Is E'gin's greeting, "How are you two?" Unbuckling his riding helmet he tucks it under his arm. "How long have you guys been at it?" Vysravth studies the queen, and noticing her widening belly with some curiosity, his aloofness seems to lift slightly, and he settles down closer to her than usual, << Howyoudoin? >> His rough voice sluring the words together.

<< It's early, >> Rielsath's lines of light waver with a mental yawn, fading to a more comfortable twilight, stars taking their place in her night sky. << You tired? >> Lujayn is casually arranged, less stiff than many a fresh watchrider. "Not that long. But long enough," She raises her hand in greeting, not quite surprised to see the brown pair touch down nearby. "Rielsath's been antsy, wanting to hare off after any old thing." Patting the gold neck fondly, gaze distant. "Vysravth's been good, she says.." A pause, but she doesn't hold back the pertinent question: "Did you ever talk to K'del?"

Vysravth seems more comfortable when the mental sky fades to twilight, he adds only a whispy fog, which allows the light of the stars to bleed through, << Yes, we have been taking as many sweeps as possible, drills, shadowing, and E'gin stays up later doing other things. >> If what the dragon says is true, his rider shows no signs of being tired."Sorry, if we're intruding, Rielsath invited him..." The grin which crosses the boys face shows he's happy to be doing something other than work, pulling off his gloves a finger at a time. Half-way through plucking off his second glove he stops at her question. His face pulls into anger, frustration, or some other like emotion, but it is only a flicker before E'gin recovers. "Yes, didn't go so well. Strange too, he seemed...more on edge than usual." Of course, both normally rather laid back men were.

Lujayn shakes her head, "Rielsath's invitation is my invitation." She assures E'gin, listening with a concerned expression to his explanation of the meeting with K'del. "Weyrleader's a tough job. I'm sorry you didn't hear what you were hoping for." Lu doesn't press the issue; she hasn't spoken to the Weyrleader herself, unlike the situation with Giorda. "You guys are almost done, though. That has to be a good feeling." On the brighter side of the coin, she appeals to a bright horizon. Rielsath lets the fog wrap the starry sky, adding tints of blue and green to light it like a fading aurora. << I wouldn't have guessed. Your work ''has'' to pay off. Lujayn sees you do so much, and she feels guilty. >>

"Yes, it is." E'gin's lips thin, "I am sure he has a lot to deal with." But it is clearly an issue he wants to deal with on his own and he lets it go as eaily as Lujayn. "Yes, we are!" There is excitement twinged with nervousness, a normal emotion for a senior weyrling. "We will all be split up then, do people and dragons generally stay close to their clutchmates?" Not that E'gin is particularly close to any of them. "When do they start pulling people, not till after graduation?"

"I'm close with most of my clutchmates still, and it's been over a decade," Lujayn is happy to offer her experience for E'gin to look forward to. "Even those who have moved on to other Weyrs. Mostly E'dre and Leova, but two out of fifteen or so isn't bad." She looks over the bowl below, letting the excitement wash over her much more easily than her earlier hesitation. "You could be earmarked for a wing if they really want you, but typically they won't tap graduating Weyrlings until a few days before - or after, sometimes - the thing is done." Her smile is knowing, and a tad impish. "Won't be a ''huge'' change. I mean, you already have your own weyrs. Moving out of the barracks was one of the hardest changes."

"E'dre..." E'gin ponders for a moment, "And Wroth right? They went to Fort?" The hand of his occupied arm taps a soft beat as he thinks, jamming the other hand and his gloves into a pocket, "I'm just tried of waiting, I want to /know/..I want...I'm just ready for what's next, whatever it is." He turns to Lujayn, allowing a little gleam of excitement to show through his normally hard to read face. "There's a future here, we're ready to take it." Vysravth, after some quiet basking in their night sky finally answers the gold, << She should not feel guilty. We work hard because we want to. We must be ready for anything - for everything. >> Whatever the world throws at them.

Lujayn nods. "Yeah. We were just out there the other day, making the most of our free time. Right, Ri?" She earns a somewhat sleepy grumble from the distracted gold, whose neck is coiled around to face Vysravth instead of the departing wings flying sweeps. "It's good to prepare for the future," She agrees with some reservation, "But someone reminded me that living in the now is important, too. Because whatever's coming.. it'll always keep coming. Try taking the present. Maybe just today." << Anything and everything? There are too many possibilities. You could end up in Ista to fly ocean rescues, >> Letting her imagination stretch, the starry twilight boundless, << Or to the east, preparing a new Weyr. Tilling fields with your claws for the farmers. There are too many things waiting in life to know them all. >>

"We do enjoy the moment, sometimes, but we enjoy the planning it is where we find our...joy?" E'gin grin's easily again, "Yes, today, which is why I came with Vysravth. Let us get out of our heads for a while." He steps over towards the edge of the star stones, taking in the view of drills, and dragons coming and going on business, and even further down the dots of people scurrying around on business, before turning back to Lujayn with a smile, "What do you two do for fun?" Vysravth voice rumbles softly, perhaps with a bit of frustration, << Of course not everything... >> Something causes Vysravth to darken the nights stars, the fog thickening between the two dragons' thoughts, but a look between dragon and rider and the whatever it is that was bothered him vanishes, << The more you are ready for the easy you can deal with surprises. >>

Rielsath's mind comes along with Lujayn's words, sharing images and sensations with Vysravth as her rider speaks. "Flying. High, fast, far." Wind, sun, clouds. Blinding bright and blurry. The woman smiles at the thought and her dragon shifts uneasily underneath her, as if itching for that activity right ''now.'' "Going to new places." Images of jungles with ocean on the horizon, vast deserts, tall mountains and blizzards. "Exploring." But every memory has a common thread, and that is Together. Whether just dragon and rider or with other people, they are never completely alone. << True. Sometimes easy can be boring! >> Rielsath reins in her bent for friendly argument, more and more belligerent with the days counting down. << Do you like difficult things better than exciting things? >>

E'gin allows himself to share the view with the dragon, his eyes refocusing to nod at Lujayn, "High, fast and far is good." His eyes slide over the gold with a grin, "Clutches must be hard on you then." He address the gold directly with a touch of sympathy, before turning back to her rider, "Together," the boy confirms with a solemn nod. "We like to work through things, think about them - and do them." Vysravth's words echo is rider's, << We would rather work through a problem. How can we make higher, faster, better? What else needs to be done. >> The brown allows a brief glimpse of the ancient machine, turning gears, which runs his mind, but it fades quickly beneath the blanket of the stars, << Sometimes we do like excitement too. >>

Rielsath turns her slender face to look straight at E'gin, pleased to be addressed instead of talked over - as if she didn't have her own conversation going on with the rider's brown just now. << That ''does'' sound exciting. >> Rielsath has to admit, mind stretching for another glimpse of the slowly turning machine, that patience she does not always possess, before it vanishes. Another time. << When you are a full rider, you can have exciting more easily. You'll like it. >> Lujayn has to agree with her dragon, though she isn't eavesdropping fully. "Sounds like we could take a page from your book. I spend time in the present, but the future is different. The unknown. It's a little frightening."

"Frightening, perhaps, but exciting and full of potential. I know what is happening now, what is happening then..." E'gin, has almost forgotten that the other rider is there, perhaps that is why she has gotten in, "That is where excitement is, figuring out the future, and where we fit into it." Snapping back to reality, E'gin turns to the goldrider, "But this is nice too." A soft smile to one of the few people who is genuinely friendly to him. Vysravth's tail wraps around his haunches, << Really? It seems there will be less excitement, less to do... >>

Lujayn listens quietly, letting E'gin string his thoughts out with an appreciative, quiet air. "It's a balance." She stretches a bit, beginning to gather her flight leathers from where they're draped over Rielsath's neck, outfitting herself with deft fingers as the line of another sunrise moves across the bowl. "Thanks for stopping. One thing's for sure, I won't miss ''this'' on the sands." She smiles before buckling the helmet tight, voice muffled in farewell. << I wanted to show you something. >> It's time for them to go, and Lujayn isn't speaking up fast enough for the ice-patterned gold. So she does what she does best: show and tell. To Vysravth, she projects the alien sensation of something different, what eggs must feel like before they are laid, only different. Smaller. Tracing the source of the feeling back to Lujayn, she lets the images linger for a moment before they fade, Lujayn urging her into a favorite steep dive from the Star Stones in the direction of home. It's an escape, if only a temporary one. << There are many things we haven't done. >>

The gold and rider leave so quickly that E'gin really only has time to wave after them. Then Vysravth share's the vision with his rider and the boy's hand drops to his side. Eyebrows pulling together, the male and his brown are left standing there, motionless, simply staring after the departed pair. "Huh...?" Belated, and unintelligible it is all that E'gin has to offer.

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Logs:Thoughts like sinking stones

2011-12-03T22:07:49Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, P'draig | where = Lake Shore, Fort Weyr | what = Skipping stones. | when = day 11, month 10, Turn 11 | gamedate = | quote = Two more minutes. | weather = ..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, P'draig
| where = Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
| what = Skipping stones.
| when = day 11, month 10, Turn 11
| gamedate =
| quote = Two more minutes.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Autumn is in full swing at Fort and it's definitely too cold to swim in the lake now. The Weyrlingmaster is ambling along the shoreline, hands stuck in jacket pockets, a scarf slung loosely about his neck against evening's chill. It's getting dark out, the last of the sunset fading into twiglight and the breeze scuds across the lake's surface causing white-capped waves. A moment or two pass and then the brownrider loosely kicks a rock into the lake. *thunk* Ripples spread from where the rock went in, fighting against the direction of the waves.

Lujayn is sitting near the shore, looking a little damp below the knees as if she has tried wading in said icy lake. She watches the waves, distracted by that *plunk* that is P'draig's rock. She looks back with a little smile and a wave. "'Lo, P'draig."

P'draig looks up from his walk and grins. "Heya, Lu," friendly-like. He approaches the girl and eyes the lake. "Mind some company? I like to skip stones out here sometimes when I've got a lot on my mind." A handful of suitably flat stones appears in his palm from his pocket and he offers one over to her. "What's the most skips you've ever gotten?"

"I don't mind at all. And.." Lu thinks, taking one of the smooth stones with a nod. "A few. I think I'm pretty good once I get going, actually." Her fingers curve around the rock, testing its weight as she looks out to the water. "Are you skipping stones because you have a lot on your mind right now?" She picks up on that tack fairly quickly, flicking her wrist and letting the stone fly. It skips once before vanishing.

P'draig turns the handful of stones over, finally selecting one. "Yep. I am," says the Weyrlingmaster and sends his stone after hers. It hops four times and sinks under the waves. He's had a lot of practice it seems. "How're you doing? Been doing a lot of running?"

Lujayn begins to scout for more suitable stones, bending over to feel along the rough shoreline. Musing over one choice in particular, she watches him throw. "Definitely. I didn't think I'd gotten so out of practice, but it just happened.." This time the stone, forcefully thrown, skips three times. Lu smiles. "I need to get back in the swing of things."

"Yep, nothing to do for that but practice," says P'draig amiably and flicks another one of the stones he apparently searches for and collects frequently out into the water again. Three full skips and the last sort of peters out and dies, the stone turning on its side and vanishing beneath the surface.

"What about you?" Lujayn takes her time before her next throw, walking a few feet down the shore. "Working hard? I haven't seen you around for a few days." She tosses the rock between hands, not letting it go just yet.

The Weyrlingmaster's head bobs up and down. "Yep. Lots of work to do." He grins and sorts through the three remaining stones in his hand. "Lots going on in general, trying to sort it all out." P'draig picks out a stone and it dangles loosely from his hand, not thrown yet. "Ever been caught between a rock and a hard place?"

Lujayn inspects her last stone while P'draig speaks, tossing it absently. It doesn't even skip once. The runner sighs and watches it sink. "Yeah." She doesn't ask any questions, though a look in her eye says she is clearly dying to do so. "Not a lot of times, but some. Enough." Lu shakes her head and plants herself down for a sit, watching the waves come and go once more.

"Yeah," echoes P'draig and skips the stone out onto the lake. One, two. Plonk. Gone. "Doing the right thing isn't always easiest," an elaboration of sorts. "What's the hardest thing you've ever had to do?" He looks over at Lu curiously.

Lujayn watches P'draig curiously. The right thing? "I've never thought about it before." She switches her gaze to her feet, scuffing at the sand. "Being a candidate is one of the hardest things I can remember. But I didn't /have/ to." Lu toys with that word. "I suppose being a runner was, too. Or at least getting my foot in the door. I really had to prove I could do something before they'd take me on." She shrugs. "Anyone can run, it's just how and why you run that matters. I like it."

"Mm. Candidacy is a tough 'yes'." P'draig muses and flips one more stone out. This one fails to skip at all, caught on the side of frothy wave. "How'd you get started with being a runner again? And ... what's the why for you?" The last stone in his hands shifts from palm to palm, fingers running over the smooth outward edge.

"It almost just kind of.. happened." Lujayn rests her chin on her hands. "I took messages all the time when I was little. Aunties said it was the only way to keep me from getting into everything. Then I got to be older, and by that time I didn't want to do anything else. Like a habit." The next question is harder. "I like running; I like being able to just run and not worry about anything else, or without anyone else around. It takes more skill than people ever think about."

"Hobby, turned habit, turned way of life ...hmm" P'draig's expression turns thoughtful. "Cooking was like that for me, you get into a zone ..." he trails off and shrugs.

Lujayn nods in agreement. "Exactly." She picks up another rock, nowhere near flat, and lobs it out just to hear the satisfying *plunk* it makes upon hitting the water. "What's bothering you?" She asks after a few long moments of silence, noticing the thoughtful look again.

"I miss doing nothing but cooking somtimes. Wouldn't trade Jekzith for the world, but..." he shrugs again and then smiles. "Sadly, it's something that I'm not sure a kid your age should be hearing about," continues the Weyrlingmaster with chuckle and then makes big eyes. "Relationship stuff."

Lujayn purses her lips in an almost-pout, looking stubbornly up at P'draig. "I'm fourteen in a month." She objects. "But I see you in the kitchens all the time. Or I used to; I'm not much there myself anymore. Sometimes must be better than never."

"Sometimes is better than never, yep, right now though, there's not much time for cooking. Later. Maybe." He smiles again and looks out over the water, tossing the last rock. "Don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up. Things get complicated."

"At least it's hard to avoid running," Lujayn reasons, watching the last stone go. "It seems you can do so many things once you're older. Nice to know I can't get any younger."

"More and less at the same time." Cryptic again, P'draig drops down into a seat, knees drawn up slightly, elbows propped atop them, hand dangling a little. "There's a lot to be said for not having /too/ much responsibility." He winks over at the runner then looks back out over the lake, any vestige of light utterly gone now, replaced by twinkling stars, the sliver of one moon, the other almost full.

Lujayn is still, just looking out over the water quietly. Words pass as the stars shine, her eyes adjusting to the darkness to see them all the better. "I'll let you know if it gets any more exciting." She grins at the wink. "Times like this, now, those are worth not having anything to do."

The laughter starts out low and then turns merry. "Hear, hear," says P'draig in between laughs. "Time's pressing on though, gotta go do Barracks check in a minute. Make sure they're all dossed down for the night. Did you get dinner?"

Lujayn shakes her head. "If you have to go check on them, I can get dinner and tell everyone how responsible you are." She teases, but doesn't look eager to leave the shore.

The Weyrlingmaster laughs again. "In a minute." P'draig leans forward a little to rest his chin on his forearm, falling silent as he contemplates the lake's restless waters, the reflection of the moons appears, ruffled out in the depths.

Lujayn laughs quietly, taking the cue from P'draig to stay where she is. The night is chilly but not yet bitter, and the runner is content to sit for as long as anyone would let her. She watches the stars first before glancing aside to the Weyrlingmaster, and finally following his gaze out to the water. "Two minutes."

"Okay. Two," concedes P'draig, sitting in companionable silence while more and more stars peek out a veritable river high above in the inky blackness. Among them shines the comet, no longer a wonder to behold, but the Weyrlingmaster's gaze avoids the brilliance of that flying object until the night's chill and the call of duty send him and the runner off in separate directions.

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Logs:Loyalty

2011-12-03T21:59:48Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatching feast. Dragon-rider bonding ensues.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.04.08
| quote = Absolutely no hesitation.
| weather =
| categories = vignettes
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn lies awake, though around her couches are filled with dutifully slumbering Weyrlings and dragons alike. Thinking back, it was hard to believe. It had been true on the sands, in the barracks, and all those places in between, but it had taken so much more for Lujayn to realize that Rielsath had chosen her. It had taken tears, the memory of home and the face of an old friend, because part of her, however small and secret, had been convinced the hatching would see her back at Fort. She would resume a runner's life again, a familiar job in a familiar place, but instead everything had changed.

"Rielsath is here," She'd said, almost without thinking. It had been so natural, no question at all in her mind that she would choose her lifemate over everything she had ever known. Absolutely no hesitation. Was that what defined a dragon and rider pair?

A soft stirring from the gold makes Lujayn take pause, alert for a possible wakening of her lifemate. << Of course you chose me. I did the same for you. >> And that's that. Easing back into silent warmth, comforting and soft, secure in mutual loyalty, they find sleep.

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Logs:Loyalty

2011-12-03T21:59:22Z

Lujayn:

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatching feast. Dragon-rider bonding ensues.
| when =
| gamedate = 2008.04.08
| quote = Absolutely no hesitation.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn lies awake, though around her couches are filled with dutifully slumbering Weyrlings and dragons alike. Thinking back, it was hard to believe. It had been true on the sands, in the barracks, and all those places in between, but it had taken so much more for Lujayn to realize that Rielsath had chosen her. It had taken tears, the memory of home and the face of an old friend, because part of her, however small and secret, had been convinced the hatching would see her back at Fort. She would resume a runner's life again, a familiar job in a familiar place, but instead everything had changed.

"Rielsath is here," She'd said, almost without thinking. It had been so natural, no question at all in her mind that she would choose her lifemate over everything she had ever known. Absolutely no hesitation. Was that what defined a dragon and rider pair?

A soft stirring from the gold makes Lujayn take pause, alert for a possible wakening of her lifemate. << Of course you chose me. I did the same for you. >> And that's that. Easing back into silent warmth, comforting and soft, secure in mutual loyalty, they find sleep.

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Logs:Loyalty

2011-12-03T21:58:52Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Rielsath | where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr | what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatc..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = An overtired Lujayn makes it back to the weyrling barracks after a brief visit to the hatching feast. Dragon-rider bonding ensues.
| when =
| gamedate = YYYY.MM.DD
| quote = Absolutely no hesitation.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lujayn lies awake, though around her couches are filled with dutifully slumbering Weyrlings and dragons alike. Thinking back, it was hard to believe. It had been true on the sands, in the barracks, and all those places in between, but it had taken so much more for Lujayn to realize that Rielsath had chosen her. It had taken tears, the memory of home and the face of an old friend, because part of her, however small and secret, had been convinced the hatching would see her back at Fort. She would resume a runner's life again, a familiar job in a familiar place, but instead everything had changed.

"Rielsath is here," She'd said, almost without thinking. It had been so natural, no question at all in her mind that she would choose her lifemate over everything she had ever known. Absolutely no hesitation. Was that what defined a dragon and rider pair?

A soft stirring from the gold makes Lujayn take pause, alert for a possible wakening of her lifemate. << Of course you chose me. I did the same for you. >> And that's that. Easing back into silent warmth, comforting and soft, secure in mutual loyalty, they find sleep.

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Logs:Contrary Rielsath

2011-12-03T21:57:29Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Rielsath | where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr | what = Lujayn has completed her first set of straps, wheedled approval out of I'daur, but Rielsat..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Lujayn has completed her first set of straps, wheedled approval out of I'daur, but Rielsath refuses.
| when = Month 12, Turn 15
| gamedate = 2008.04.09
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = vignettes
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

They're well-oiled, freshly made, and perfect in every sense of the word. As perfect as a weyrling could hope for, at least. Lujayn holds the chest straps in her arms, leaning forward in an almost pleading manner to her dragon, who's crouched down low. Her wings tuck close to her body, protecting it from those much-hated fetterings.

<< I don't want to wear those silly things! >> It's been a long argument, but Rielsath's reason hasn't changed in the slightest, a contrast to Lujayn's many attempts to find purchase in her dragon's mind. I don't want to. You can't make me. We don't need them.

She's made them herself, slaved over getting them just right, and so these words are somehow more painful than anything Lu has ever heard. Still, she doesn't let herself back down.

<< ... I wouldn't ever let you fall, why do they think they need to tie you to me like the Weyr idiot ... >> Never mind that all of the adult dragons wear straps without a complaint. Never mind that the rest of the weyrling class is already making and testing their own sets. It certainly doesn't matter that they won't be allowed to fly together without proper safety precautions. Lujayn has a sneaking suspicion she will be held especially accountable for this rule, with such a headstrong lifemate beneath her.

She knows what Rielsath wants to hear: No one needs to know, we'll just break the rules. So wear these straps and we'll fool 'em. But it's not going to happen this time. Lujayn sets the straps down, her months-long endeavor, and retreats to the bowl without a word. It was the same yesterday. It will be the same tomorrow.

Alone and out of sight, Rielsath rises from her stiff position. She noses lightly at one of the straps, hooking her snout under it, eying the padded girth and clicking her talons against the buckles, curiosity slowly turning to childish delight. A laugh echoes from the bowl - Sevierth and S'trun are coming! Rielsath is back upon her couch in a flash of sunfire, the straps discarded in a heap on the floor. All appearances intact: the dragonet seems to be just rousing herself from a long nap when the others enter, neck stretching slowly with a yawn. Oh, what's that left out in the middle of the barracks?

<< She never puts stuff back when she's done with it. >>

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Logs:Home Sweet Home

2011-12-03T21:55:12Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Satiet | where = Weyrling Barracks; Bowl; Lujayn and Rielsath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr | what = Satiet takes Lujayn to her new lodgings, which are met wit..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Satiet
| where = Weyrling Barracks; Bowl; Lujayn and Rielsath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Satiet takes Lujayn to her new lodgings, which are met with delight. Lujayn is overjoyed; Satiet smiles. Rielsath plans mischief.
| when = day 26, month 12, Turn 15
| gamedate = 2008.04.11
| quote = << You leave today. >>
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Just after lunch, Satiet's slight frame darkens the entrance to the weyrling barracks, her gaze searching, perhaps already knowing Lujayn's whereabouts. Or thinks she knows at least; with a dragon like Teonath, sometimes the whole honest sharing thing falls through the cracks. Still, the blue-clad woman rises onto the tips of her booted toes as she looks past struggling E'dro and W'jar, her hesitation to fully step into the barracks demonstrated in the hand that lingers at the entree archway and the faintly wrinkled nose.

Rielsath> Lujayn senses that Rielsath alerts her rider sharply. << She's here, look out! >>

Lujayn is stretched out on her own cot, lying on her side with what looks like another itemized list of a storeroom before her. The other noise and activity in the barracks might as well not be there, but all it takes is a stirring from Rielsath, a little warble to get her attention. The weyrling is on the alert then, sitting upright. Smoothing back her tawny hair with one fidgeting hand, Lu looks around her for the source of her gold's warning. It's easy to spot Satiet in the doorway, a little easier to pretend she didn't see her from all the way across the room. But who likes anything that's easy? "Ma'am," She waves across the room, folding up her ledgers idly.

Interest sparks at Rielsath's highly-attuned awareness, tiny starlit glimmers in Teonath's mind that dance casually at the fringes of Rielsath's mind; brushing past, inspecting, but not quite making any attempt towards actual communications -- content in her distantly amused study for now. Lujayn's recognition of Satiet's arrival pulls one corner the weyrwoman's mouth down, particularly as E'dro and W'jar swivel to stare as well, their own greeting a scrambled version of salutes that leave her looking more pained than approving. No greeting is made towards those other weyrlings, the wave the other goldrider sent causing Satiet to crook one finger in the air in a come hither motion bolstered by a delicately-voiced, bluntly-worded share: << You leave today. >>

Lujayn swings her legs over her cot, getting to her feet in one quick motion. Curious, she slides around the scrambling E'dro and W'jar to the doorway, as Rielsath raises her own head to watch what's going on. Lu stands before the Weyrwoman with a smile that's almost expectant, waiting for some word, some further instruction.

Rielsath> Teonath senses that Rielsath sends a gentle fall of snow over the sparks, frozen things with a core of burning fire. It's as much to protect as it is to play with the little stars, reluctant. << This is my home. I've always been here. >>

The silence with which Lujayn approaches tilts Satiet's head to one side, the woman's dark hair falling across her cheeks and over her shoulders, only to be raked by in a quick irritable motion behind her ears. Idle fingers play with the strands tucked and piercing eyes, so palely brilliant in their hue, just wait until Lujayn makes it across the room, past the struggling boys to find the smile so expectant on the gold weyrling's face. Well? Just as expectantly, Satiet's groomed brows lift, as if waiting for some sort of response - one that's shared just seconds later to smooth out her sharp features. "Do you agree with your dragon, Lujayn? That this," the barracks, High Reaches, it's all vague in that flippant little wrist gesture, "Is your home?"

Rielsath> Rielsath senses that Lujayn tries to build a sense of freedom and independence, quickly. "Something that's /yours/." Something to explore.

Dragon> For now, Teonath allows her rider to do much of the speaking, more interested in the imagery of the gentle snow that shrouds her sparks, their flickering light dying slowly under the blanket. They melt, sparkling silver bleeding and blending seamlessly into the frozen landscape, and then the mother addresses the daughter with acceptance: << You have. >> Indeed, there is no recollection of a time without Rielsath at High Reaches, no time without Rielsath shelled. (Teonath to Rielsath)

Rielsath> Lujayn senses that Rielsath is firmly rooted, dark crimson blending with earthy browns and the cold gray of stones. It's different than stubborn for stubbornness's sake, but stubborn nonetheless. << We belong here. >>

It's difficult for Lujayn to keep up the silence, peppered by shared thoughts from her lifemate. That smile fades the smallest bit, uncertainty clouding her gray eyes when they focus on Satiet's face. "She can't stay here forever," Is her eventual reply, addressing nothing of her own feelings. Coolly, "Should I pack?"

Rielsath> Teonath senses that Rielsath replaces the snow with an easier wash of sunlight, snug and familiar, this new gold-silver melding of electrum. As her rider can't hold silence for long, she cannot withhold the curious questions that come from such an introduction: << Where do you want to send me? >>

The slighter woman has to look up to study Lujayn's face; it's certainly not a position that must make Satiet any happier. But the faded smile, the uncertainty of the goldrider's eyes quirk the senior queenrider's lips to one side, the fingers tugging at her tucked hair falling to her sides. Accompanying her words is a simple shrug and impassively shaped features. "Have you ever lived alone?" It seems her attempts at being more imposing than she already might be, threatening even in what little she says, are tossed aside carelessly, the turn of her body poised to exit the barracks with the expectation hinging in the conversational question that Lujayn will follow.

Rielsath> Rielsath senses that Lujayn separates herself from the tight embrace, the piercing light. Bit by bit. "I'm going now."

Lujayn is being careful, still watching the woman before her and choosing her words with more caution than she might normally. "I've worked alone on long runs by myself, but that's different than living, isn't it?" One last glance back at where Rielsath sits, the other weyrlings who are listening-not-listening, before her feet break free from that expectant stance and move to follow wherever Satiet leads. "And Rielsath, she's never alone." Almost true. Always talking, always nosing around. Always something.

Dragon> Sunlight, so different from the starlight dance offered earlier, suffuses Teonath's thoughts in return, the landscape of her daughter's mind reflected across a mirror in the older dragon's: sun-scorched sand superimposing over snow. << Nowhere. >> The one word tinges crimson about the edges, possessive. (Teonath to Rielsath)

Unaware, or feigning obliviousness to Lujayn's caution with words, Satiet saunters into the bowl. "No, you're never quite alone when you've a dragon. Some," she pauses, a glance cast briefly back to the barracks, pale eyes oddly narrowed, "Moreso than others." The older woman fails to elaborate on that and remains quiet for a stretch of time, about ten paces, before her cool alto shares, "For most weyrlings, their weyr is the first time they've ever had a place of their own. It's exciting." A hesitant pause. "And lonely. Even with a dragon."

Lujayn keeps pace easily, words beginning to flow with that same ease now that she's back in familiar motion. One step after the other, more refreshing than a stagnant standstill in a doorway. "I am excited. A place all my own, without all that mess and noise. Privacy." Her thoughts are one after the other, soft. "Do you think I'll be lonely, even with Rielsath?"

Dragon> Snowflakes or a dervish of white sand? There's sun all around, but never enough to melt what's gathered on the frozen mountains. Rielsath hangs to that one word, possessive herself towards a place to belong. Hers. A rare moment of silence, basking in the sunlit crimson, but something in the barracks steals her attention. A beat of unbearable tension, then her athletic body leaps and she follows after Lujayn with something fierce and burning in her mind. The motion nearly knocks W'jar against the wall if he can't move out of her way quickly enough. So loudly that Teonath is also privy to the shrill call: << Wait! If you're going, so am I. >> And all is well again. (Rielsath to Teonath)

Their trek across the bowl is long, the barracks at one end, their eventual destination at the other. About halfway there, the slender woman halts her steps, turning with one of her hands rested on her hip, to face the junior most goldrider. "You drew the short straw," states Satiet, in the middle of the bowl. It's almost an apology, the way her sharp chin cants down and those dark lashes sweep over her eyes briefly. "The last time I mentored weyrlings, a weyrling, I wasn't the Weyrwoman. The slight woman's mouth shapes into the driest smile ever, one that deepens somehow at Rielsath's exit of the barracks.

Dragon> In the wake of Rielsath's call, one broadcast so loudly, Teonath's laughter rings low, an effortless sound that trembles the sand and snow, jostling it out of place. << I thought, >> exhales the sand-rasping sound of the gold's thoughts, << That was your home? >> (Teonath to Rielsath)

Lujayn is quick to turn when she senses her dragon's haste, taking advantage of Satiet's halt to let the gold play catchup. It doesn't take long, and as soon as she slides to a halt before them Rielsath arches her neck downwards to regard the women before her. Bright blue is sparked with a more agitated yellow, both whirling quickly. "I figure things out well enough on my own," If that was an almost-apology, this is almost-forgiveness. "Or if I haven't been, no one's complained about it." Even more easily now that Rielsath's arrived, leaning back into the presence of her lifemate. "That must have been a while ago, then..?"

Rielsath> Teonath senses that Rielsath has escaped those ground-shackled things, abandoned images altogether in a wash of warm gold. Words come more brightly, insisting. << Only if she's there, too. And she left. >> This is non-negotiable. << You wouldn't go anywhere without her. >> Icy blue, that's Satiet.

Satiet's eyes do the ruminating for her, the blue going glazed in thought before she finally pronounces, "A little over five turns ago," as the length of time it's been since mentoring. "Tavrie," is her continued one-worded explanation of who she had mentored, the faint, distasteful crumple of her nose saying more than the cool-spoken name conveys. But it does cause the pale, studying eyes to sweep Lujayn and then Rielsath over once more and comment idly, "You seem to be holding up a lot better under the pressures of being a weyrwoman than she did at any rate." Is she? Those eyes do the asking, brows arcing quizzically.

"Thank you," Lujayn has the sense to find a compliment in that statement, or imagine one if it wasn't really there. "No one's been getting after me for mistakes, so I must be doing fine," She shrugs, eyes flicking momentarily towards the ground. "It all gets done eventually." If not immediately. She manages to smile, looking up with a hopeful cast to an almost hesitant face. "Do most people have a hard time with this? All riders, even?"

For once, there's a smile, the slightest curve that carries no hidden agenda other than it's touched about the corners with some sort of reminescent sadness. This expression, eyes trained to Teonath on the Weyrleaders' ledge behind them, is more honest of her own opinions than Satiet's more neutral and generic response: "It depends on the person and the dragon." The moment, soft and verging on poignant, is gone though, with a toss of her raven curls. "Come along, your new home is just over there. It belonged to Tavrie." And her short steps resume towards a step of stairs near the entrance to the Snowasis.

Dragon> For the longest time, there's silence from Teonath. Perhaps she's thinking of the fierce loyalty Rielsath has for her rider. Perhaps she's just busy or napping or, worst, lost interest in this bright-hued daughter of hers. But after a long pause and shortly after Satiet's turned to stare up at her ledge, the desert queen replies, << We travel separately. Sometimes. But I will follow whereever she goes. >> (Teonath to Rielsath)

Hand resting on Rielsath's head, the gold lowered to a crouch during their pause, bright eyes follow Satiet's line of sight back to Teonath. Glancing down at her lifemate thoughtfully, Lujayn once again leads the way. The gold's steps are immediate this time, curiously tromping onwards. One word sticks in the weyrling's mind: Belonged. Past tense. "What happened to Tavrie?" Now eying the stairs, another glance back to Rielsath. Comparing the sizes.

Rielsath> Lujayn senses Rielsath's dismay. << I can't go that way. How do I get there? >>

Rielsath> Lujayn bespoke Rielsath with "I'll meet you up there. Go on." A rush of wind, rising quickly. "You're a dragon, aren't you?"

Rielsath> Teonath senses that Rielsath is quiet but always present, the darkness of her silence a starfield in night sky rather than any lonely, barren void. She eases back into her mother's words, the complex rainbow of an aurora enveloping her simple response. << Me too. >>

The weyrwoman's hand turns to indicate those wall-hugging steps, inviting Lujayn to take the first steps towards her new home. For Lujayn's concerns, there's a flat response, "She transferred to Monaco." Tavrie, sore subject, take note. Then a correction, more for the younger goldrider's sake than any particular desire to explain the situation further, "Thread's return has impacted the southern Weyrs far more than it has us. Her dragon was needed." Satiet's mouth parts, about to speak again, but a simple head shake dismisses those thoughts. Instead, more kindly, the alto pitches lower, "It's one of the larger weyrs at any rate, and still mostly furnished."

Dragon> So private are these thoughts, the actuality of the intensity of their respective bonds, and so quietly Teonath dwells on them, that it's clear these are never shared wittingly with her rider. They are instinctively understood, an underlying element to the veneer they both present of their interactions, but never spoken of. And in the silence of this share with her golden daughter, Teonath adds her own to the aurora filled sky, brightening the starfield that backdrops the rose-gold hues and setting each twinkling light pulsing. (Teonath to Rielsath)

"I see," If anything, Satiet's response only heightens her interest concerning this mysterious subject, all too obvious from the bright tone the pair of words adopts. "We're scheduled to fly resupply soon, aren't we?" At the mention of Thread, her churning thoughts find a different track, helped along by her lifemate. "Rielsath thinks a lot about Thread." A scattering of snow and an extra gust of cold wind behind Lujayn announces the young gold's departure, eschewing the stairs for a more graceful arrival. Her icy pinions spread wide, the sheer frost over a fiery body, searching for the place to call home.

"You are." As flat in regards to the weyrlings' first brush with Thread as riders as she was with Tavrie, Satiet's shoulders twitch, discomforted. Or else that was a response to the cold wind of Rielsath's departure setting a'shiver the weyrwoman's thin-clad figure. The smooth brow knits, "Does she? Don't they all?" The rhetorical question follows after the gold's flight and eventual descent to the ledge. "More than I'd like for Teonath to at any rate, though she possibly dwells less on those kinds of thoughts than others. - You're Fortian bred, right?" Non-sequitur subject change!

Rielsath> Teonath senses that Rielsath is somewhere in that sky now, twisting around the aurora and poking her nose after each little star. Searching, though there's more to the feeling than just imagery. Settling onto the ledge for the first of what will become countless times, the glow of rosy dawn joins the other celestial bodies from the horizon.

Lujayn moves to ascend the steps on the edges of the latest question, the haste of excitement getting into her motions instead of the caution one should take with slippery stone stairs. "More now than she used to," She explains, mouth twisting up in a grim smile. "Then she's reminded that only the other dragons get to breathe fire and gets all sulky.." Words as fast as her steps, nearly rushing. A pause, turning to make sure she doesn't make the rude mistake of leaving Satiet behind in the conversation or the climb. "Yeah, Fort Weyr."

Something about Lujayn's response, particularly in relation to her dragon, evokes a tiny smile from Satiet, a smile that lingers as she follows gingerly after the weyrling towards the high-placed ledge. "She sounds like a handful. They say dragons find their best possible match on the sands." A beat passes, the weyrwoman's eyes seeking Lujayn's face for something of the 'handful' Rielsath seems to be. Approvingly, "But I don't think I've ever seen you sulk. Or seem upset. You take things in stride. Much like your move here." She pauses there, measuring her words with a drop of her chin before voicing them aloud. "Why did you choose to come to High Reaches?"

Lujayn listens, still for the moment. "She can be." Her face fairly glows with that admission, fondness battling with periodic exasperation and coming out as amusement, even accompanied by a small laugh. Her expression is surprised when it comes to the praise, but (as she has been accused of doing) takes it in stride and resumes her climb. Not far now. "I came because Sionath wanted me to Stand." That extra capital 's'. A simple answer, but probably not satisfactory. "It was my duty."

"And duty-bound, you're required to stay here," surmises the weyrwoman, a lack of judgment in her thoughts. "I always wonder at those who agree to be searched by Weyrs other than the ones they've been beholden to all their life. Where could the loyalty come from?" Satiet's passing glance doesn't linger to watch Lujayn's reactions, turning to train onto the tapestry that keeps the inner weyr safe from the winter weather. Thin arms wrap about her body, shoulders hunched inward and quick steps take her to the tapestry's edge to unlatch and hopefully, escape from the cold soon. "Do you miss your home?" Such a carelessly posed question.

"I would stay even if I didn't have to." Lujayn's reply is immediate even as she steps into the weyr, stubborn arguments lost in wonder at the size of the cavern. A sharp inhale, taking in every little sight through wide eyes. It's all she can do to keep from running off like a distracted child, eager to explore every niche and feature of her home. "This is for me?" She asks at last, forgetting to answer whatever questions had just been asked.

It's really not fair for Satiet to ask such a question of missing home and what not when presenting Lujayn with her new home and after the weyrling steps into her new weyr, Satiet follows in. She drops to the side wall, back pressed against it and angled in such a way as to try and catch sight of the goldrider's reaction. She can even forgive the lack of an answer to her question, a sliver of pleasure lighting her pale eyes for just a moment before the more senior rider's composure smooths her face back to neutral. Her, "Yes," is matter-of-fact, as if this type of chamber should be taken for granted rather than cause such pent up delight, but she is, in the end human, despite what gossip might say, for she has to ask, she /has/ to, struggling to keep her alto even, "Do you like it?"

Lujayn holds herself in place just long enough for an equally brief, though infinitely more heartfelt, "Yes." She beams widely towards Satiet, looking almost gleeful enough to embrace the older woman in a fit of girlish delight, but thankfully those energies are diverted. Plants? Furniture? Is that a /bath/? Unable to remain still, Lu zips from place to place - no leisurely tour here. The girl stops only when she has to wrestle with a rusted trapdoor, laughing at her own efforts to wrench it open. It seems, in fact, that the laughter has been at a low bubble since she entered the weyr, a thing in the perpetual background. "It's beautiful. Thank you!" As the door screeches open and Lu promptly sticks her head inside the chute. "Hey, what's this?"

Rielsath> Lujayn senses that Rielsath is immediately curious, trying to illuminate the darkness. << What're you doing in there? That's even too small for you! >>

Rielsath> Rielsath senses that Lujayn is as bright as ever, almost overpowering her lifemate's natural sunniness. "It looks like an elevator. We can send stuff up and down."

Rielsath> Lujayn senses that Rielsath's intrigue is all sorts of lively colors, orange and yellow and a field of flowers. << Oooh... >> The wheels are turning in that busy head.

Crowded, but not as much now with the largest of the bunch making her successful exit. "Soon," responds the weyrwoman, Satiet's delight curbed at the reminder that there's more work to do; other weyrlings to 'outfit' into homes. "After they've completed their discussions with I'daur and Persie in regards to mating flights." The slight woman eases herself off the wall, taking in the rest of Lujayn's new home with another sweeping glance that returns to the youngest of Reaches' goldriders. It's a sizing up look, one that takes in everything about the younger woman's attire and personality in one flicker of her lashes. "I expect you to conduct yourself as decorously and as neatly as before," she begins, less admonishment and more of a reminder that softens in her continuation. "And I should have time next month, after you all begin betweening, to take you and my other mentees to Weaverhall. You should dress as a representative of the Weyr."

Lujayn stills a bit more under the Weyrwoman's gaze, hand stopped halfway from where it was reaching for that basket of bread. Looking down at her attire, clean but unremarkable, she hazards a question. New weyr, new wardrobe? "That sounds wonderful. What kinds of clothes?" If one can't always go around in work clothes, that's news to Lu. "Decorously," The word is repeated nearly blankly, energy reined in for this more serious topic. "Okay."

Her sizing up of the once runner comes up with one word. One, brightly spoken word: "Dresses." And magnamiously, she allows, "You may keep your other clothing though for day to day purposes." But for now, advice, future plans, and presenting of overly large new homes for young girls seems to be done for Satiet waves her hand about to indicate the entirety. "If you require anything more, you know how to requisition from the stores. I hope you'll assist your fellow weyrlings in procuring nice things for their weyrs as well. Hmmm?" Luckily, it's punctuated with a brief upward turn of her lips, a flickering return to some kind of pleasantness. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Lujayn."

There's no definite reaction to the word, but Lujayn's imagination is away with her. "Yes ma'am," Is all she can manage clearly, on her way to being overwhelmed by just a few changes. "I'll make sure to help them, too. Everything already in here is so nice, I don't know what else I would need..." The weyrling trails off, remembering to make a salute before Satiet departs. "You too." She'll pack her things from the barracks eventually, but they're not going to run off between now and the time it takes to explore the weyr to complete satisfaction. With Rielsath as her shadow, she turns to see what's down that little tunnel. "Another room!" Faintly echoed, if the Weyrwoman is still close enough to hear.

The Weyrwoman is still close enough to hear, but with her back to the weyr and her path set for her own home, she's allowed to react: smile indulgently, duck and shake her head as she travels down the steps to the bowl.

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Logs:An almost-escape

2011-12-03T21:52:28Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Rielsath | where = Skies, High Reaches Weyr | what = Straps strapped on at last? Lujayn unwittingly places herself at Rielsath's mercy during their first m..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Rielsath
| where = Skies, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Straps strapped on at last? Lujayn unwittingly places herself at Rielsath's mercy during their first manned flight.
| when = Month 2, Turn 16
| gamedate = 2008.04.05
| quote = << I want to show you something! >>
| weather =
| categories = vignettes
| mentions = Zunaeth, I'daur
| icons =
| log =

Rielsath had spent every spare moment complaining about the straps, or at least the times when she remembered they were there.

<< They fit funny. They're rough. And they're still stupid. Hello? D'you hear me? They get in my way! >>

Lujayn just counted herself fortunate that she had been able to coax the gold into them in the first place. Complaints were a small price to pay for the hard-earned victory.

"Another adjustment, then. Let's get more padding around your chest. Stupid or not, we'll use 'em." And so it went, give and take. Fighting the good fight.

Rielsath seemed to forget all of these grievances when the moment finally came. Fidgeting in the bowl, tail lashing excitedly at a too-close Kellnith, she hardly sat still enough for Lujayn to find a comfortable place to sit. Crouched low and still finding ways to remain constantly moving as Lu tried to fasten the straps - wings flicking, paws shuffling from side to side, making little starts forward - she turned so sharply that the tall girl found herself unseated, tumbling the few feet back to the snow-covered ground. Peering curiously down at her lifemate, nearly dancing in place, the innocent gold tilted her head. What's this, the mighty strap-defender down on her luck?

<< Told you they were stupid. >>

"Get back down here." Lujayn hauled herself up into place for what felt like the hundredth time, one hand now firmly holding to the strap before her as she buckled herself into place. It was rather like riding a skittish runnerbeast, and they weren't even in the air yet. "Sit still!"

Distracted as Rielsath was, she was still paying attention. As soon as that last strap was secured, she knew. And there was no need to sit still. Lean limbs coiling, wings snapping open as they were meant to do, a rush of wind. That warm darkness yet again, though the winds were freezing...

<< Open your eyes, you're going to miss it all! >>

**Sky above the Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#848RIJaes)
You fly just a few dragonlengths above the bowl floor. The morning rays of Rukbat peek over the eastern edge of the bowl, lighting the westernmost of the Seven Spindles with a harsh light: they seem even more jagged than usual. Far to the north, you can barely see the white-capped peaks of the Northern Barrier Range as the sunlight begins its futile effort to melt the ever present snow.

A slight wind from the southwest almost seems to carry with it the scent of the apple orchards from Nabol, though perhaps it's just your imagination. Far below you, however, you can see rush about the weyr: people, looking more like trundlebugs from this height, scurry to and fro with their chores.

On the eastern lip of the bowl, the Star Stones begin the day as they always have: standing a silent vigil over the Weyr.**

<< Come on, come on, I want to show you something! >> Open.

It was much smaller than she remembered. Lujayn's mouth opened in an exclamation that never came. Stolen by the cold winds whipping past, or by her lifemate's exultant mind. She was relieved to feel the straps holding her in place as Rielsath took a steep turn, diving down only to rise on a gust of cold air, wheeling dizzyingly upwards. Again she tried to work her mouth, but the words were ripped away as easily as before. And still Rielsath was rising.

**Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#844RIJaes)
As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occasional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles.

Through the first and second spires, you can see out to the mountains surrounding the weyr. If you know just where to look, you can also glimpse part of the winding road leading to the Weyr. Ledges are hewn into the rock face in all directions, each with a dragon's weyr behind it.

The winds here are usually calm, with the protection of the Weyr's walls to keep the worst gusts at bay. Still, flying can be a little difficult as an errant thermal sometimes crosses the bowl.**

''We shouldn't go much higher, they want us to come back down-'' Gathering enough wits about her to resume the tried and true mental conversation of dragonriders, Lujayn realized she hadn't said a single thing to initiate this. Hadn't told her dragon to take off, to turn or dive, to go higher so the group of weyrling dragons below were just colored flecks in the snow.

Interrupted. << It doesn't matter what they want, isn't this what you want? >> Less acrobatics, fewer harsh winds. Nearly a standstill, floating upwards. A rare peace, away from everything and everyone. Even Rielsath felt distant, but Lujayn knew her dragon was so close there was no telling their minds apart. Now she fell into place, urged her on.

''Higher.''

**Sky Far above the High Reaches Mountains
Even as the winds play about, you cannot help but notice the landscape around you. Below, High Reaches Weyr is only recognizable by the Seven Spindles; any other details are lost from this altitude. The snow-capped peaks of the north and east form a barrier across the land, blocking the view of Crom and Nabol Holds. Looking southeast, the Western Mountain Range looks almost tame and easy enough to simply walk over, while directly south you can make out one of the river spurs. To the northwest, your eyes can just barely discern High Reaches Hold, noticeable only due to the slight wisps of smoke coming from it. And as you look southeastwards, the great Western Sea stretches to infinity, as the Tillek Peninsula juts into it.**

There are words without letters to them, feelings that shouldn't be able to exist. Lu's light-headed wonder betrays her into a stupor, Rielsath twisting gracefully through the air, beyond responding to anything her rider might say.

The scalding command from Zunaeth is hot enough to startle them both, burning up stunned silence into action, so that the gold's dive is immediate and Lujayn's wonder-loosened grip flies free. Her stomach rises with the seat of her pants, but steadfast buckles keep the weyrling in place. Down, down, down, a missile from the sun itself. Past the spires, into the bowl. Her body tugs up against Rielsath's building momentum. The straps hold.

The landing is rough and sudden, Rielsath's signature sliding halt sending up snow and dirt in great waves to either side. Others mutter, I'daur looms, but Lujayn can only smile giddily as her dragon dares anyone to scold. There are a dozen things one could say to the other, but somehow it's Lujayn that gets the last word, tugging heartily on the handle-strap for emphasis.

''I told you so.''

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Logs:Snowballs and Escape

2011-12-03T21:45:54Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Malsaeth, Rielsath | where = | what = Conversation is not always simple. | when = Day 28, Month 2, Turn 16 | gamedate = 2008.04.26 | quote = << We don't run away..."

{{ Log
| who = Malsaeth, Rielsath
| where =
| what = Conversation is not always simple.
| when = Day 28, Month 2, Turn 16
| gamedate = 2008.04.26
| quote = << We don't run away. >>
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Lujayn, X'lar
| icons =
| log =

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth's thoughts arrive to search out the sunfire gold, curiousity making the clouds of his mind grow in darkness. << Mine tells me to offer his... greetings. >> Humour strikes, like red-hot heat lightning, passed between the growing cumulonimbus clouds.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath pierces these rolling clouds with a brilliant wash of sunlight, her own curiosity prevalent. << D'you do like he says all the time, just like that? >>
X'lar is bronze Malsaeth's rider, at Ista Weyr.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth doesn't allow gold's thoughts to disperse the clouds all too quickly with that sunlight. << Oh, no, not at all. >> A rumble from the clouds and spring showers begin to fall. << Most of the time, he does what -I- tell him. >> The mischief in his growl is clear even if the weather is not.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath sends sharper sparks at the clouds, searching for clarity. Clouds are for hiding things. << Of course. That's the only real way to do those things. >> A wash of approving warmth. << And what do you tell him? >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth provides more cloud cover as the older gold sends sharper sparks toward them, making lightning flare, thunder clap. All the best to hide, to blend in. << How to oil me. >> He provides an image of X'lar beginning to oil him on the left side, but only after a moment, changes sides and begins to oil the right instead. << You must always oil on the right side first. >> And then another image flashes, enlightened by the flare of another lightning strike against scorched earth. << I tell him to run. And to hide. Like me. >>

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath is in the light, the sparks, and now the flashes of lightning that precede the harsh thunder. Edging her way into every aspect of the storm, helping to illuminate those images. << Running away is for 'fraidy cats. >> A neutral observation, tinged with blue of cold winter skies, but her words hold the warmth and comfort of home.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth considers this neutral remark and disperses only a few of the clouds, allowing the gold to see past the cover of puffy white and the near derecho-like weather conditions. << Sometimes hiding allows you to see things you don't normally get to see. >> An image flares with the growing sunlight, X'lar grabbing a bubbly when no one is looking in Ista's living cavern.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath is quick to find this discrepancy, prying at it with a sharp flash of hot white. << Hiding and running away are different. >> The grown dragon insists. She's more liable to respond with colors than images, but a brief glimpse of Lujayn is shared: gray eyes glaring, fists clenched, head held high when faced with some unseen conflict. << We don't run away. >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems to gather that image of the fist-clenched junior-to-be with more clouds, considering every facet before finally releasing it with a burst of air. << Neither does mine. >> It is growled by the young bronze plainly, not defensive in the least. << Running away only works when you want the other to follow. >>

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath lets the image go, almost careless; there's plenty more where that came from. It's the sun again when the clouds retreat, pale glints of fire off of icy mountaintops. << Or to escape. >> Cold snow below, warmth above.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth considers this, his mind embracing the thought of icy mountaintops, seemingly a lot more intrigued by the thought of colder climes than his own lifemate. << Escape... Have you needed to escape? >> Clouds grow again, giving birth to sheets of lashing rain.

Rielsath> I bespoke Malsaeth with << To do what I want, >> The sensation is shared with this younger dragon, cold winds whipping past while the sun shines ever brighter with its enveloping heat, breaking through the cover of the storm. Freedom. << Boring, stupid, pointless things. I escape from them and do what I want. >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems to have found a kindred spirit as he hears the last thoughts of the gold. << As you should. As so we should all. >> The freedom shared is not squandered, allowing the brighter thoughts of the sunny gold to break through. If only for a moment. Acceptance. << We should never be fettered. >> The word fettered is growled out in agreement basked in bright summery rain.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath lets silvery clouds drift across her sunlight, casting nebulous dapples onto diamond snows. Give and take, after all. << We aren't. >> The bright inflection of youth claims her voice, though she's long past being a hatchling. << Everything's like it's supposed to be. >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth explores those thoughts of diamond snows and sunlight reflecting from them. << This is good. When everything is as it is supposed to be then. >> Another mask replaces his previous, curiousity getting the best of him. << Do you see this... snow a lot? Where you are? >>

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath is happy to share. A scatter of snow drifts from the clouds, thickening against a dusky lavender sky. << Every day. It's fun. >> A snowball pelts forth from the previously gentle flurries, aimed playfully for Malsaeth. Splat!

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth's youth and propensity toward slyness by no means saves him from being pelted by the snowball. Splat, indeed. But, rather than wail or cry, the crimson-chased bronze's thoughts decide to shape his own snowball. Unfortunately, having no direct experience in what said object actually feels or looks like, manages only a half-snowball that only disintigrates when thrown to the gold. << Every day? We get sun and rain and heat every day. I like this... snow. >>

Dragon> Cold, wet, heavy. Rielsath shapes the next in plain sight, pushing it around. The sunlight is gone, hidden where it won't be able to melt her toys. << Mine builds things. Big walls and sculptures. >> A lump of snow offered, much larger, for the dragonet to play with. To explore. (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth considers the words before testing the thought of the lump of snow, practically hiding himself in it for a lingering moment. << Mine builds too. >> A finely crafted, whittled fishing rod is shown next to the lump of snow. << He has many of these things just lying around. >> Malsaeth seems to revel in the lack of sunlight too, clouds appearing in the corners, moving together to create massive cloud cover.

Dragon> The sun is gone, but not the warmth that's an intrinsic part of her being. There's light catching on the snow, in the water droplets that make clouds, anywhere she can find to illuminate. She shapes the snow as Malsaeth hides inside, until a thin white layer lays between him and outside. It's clumsily dragon-shaped. << If you have no snow, what do you use for fun? >> Another snowball, this one a slower lob. (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems greatly amused by the dragon-mold he provided for the snow, but he breaks it with a quick shake of his body and wings. << We use this. >> An image is projected upon the snow, melting it with the hot sun that bares down on Ista: water, water, everywhere water, it's ever-expanding. << Mine uses what he builds to catch fish. To eat fish. >> A brief flare of a rib bone is cracked, the young bronze reveling in the sound. As the snowball comes, this time he is ready and guards himself with quickly falling rain that turns to snow. In the mist, he projects another snowball, this time better crafted.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath doesn't pull away from the water and sun, though there's a definite line where Ista ends and her winter wonderland begins. << Different. >> She comments at last, content to stay where she is and build a snowball arsenal. << Snow's better, I think. >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth considers the line, blurring it further where the line does not even exist. After all, he's the sly one. He'll take anything he can get. But as the line blurs, his attention is distracted. Sunlight filters through and lets a wave from the ever-expanding water splash Rielsath. And then, he's gone. No longer a presence.

Dragon> A warm ocean wave, the chilly roar of a blizzard, thick and white as Malsaeth's thoughts vanish. Always one to get the last word in, she heaves that generous stockpile of snowballs after the bronze. Perhaps a final attack, but more likely so he can take them into Ista and catch the lazy beach-going dragons unawares. A bright golden laugh, sunlight returning when the snow and water have departed. (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

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Logs:Tapped into Aurora

2011-12-03T21:44:07Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Lujayn, Satiet | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = Satiet and Lujayn share drinks at the Snowasis. Rielsath is insanely curious. | when = Day 6, Month 3..."

{{ Log
| who = Lujayn, Satiet
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Satiet and Lujayn share drinks at the Snowasis. Rielsath is insanely curious.
| when = Day 6, Month 3, Turn 16
| gamedate = 1008.04.28
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Of all places to be summoned by the weyrwoman, the Snowasis seems to be an unlikely bet given it's informal attitude and the general leisure that hangs about the cavern. Still, when Teonath ventures forth sand-dusted clouds of thought towards the winter bright queen, it's to request Lujayn's presence in the aforementioned bar, where the raven-haired woman sits waiting, legs crossed, on a stool at the counter. Two clear, glass mugs rest before Satiet, the contents of which appear to be some liquor klah concoction.

Dragon> Rielsath bespoke Lujayn with << What does she want? Tell me, tell me... >>

Rielsath's reply is curious and shimmering, urging her rider quickly to the Snowasis and hovering around Teonath's mind for any clues about the reason of the meeting. Lujayn is a bit less excited than her lifemate, though she wears a smile as she enters the cavern at a much slower pace than the young gold would prefer. "Good afternoon," She greets Satiet before settling onto the next stool over. Perched there, she leans towards the counter, not yet reaching for either drink. "Rielsath got the message along pretty quickly."

Dragon> A dancing ring of reflected light, dapples skipping up from puddles and others glinting from snow, all hovering expectantly. Rielsath's fearsome curiosity has stirred. No questions for now, but the shimmering lights nearly ring out themselves. (Rielsath to Teonath)

Rielsath's shimmering curiosity is batted away by her dam, careless licks of smoke flickering up into that hovering in efforts to cloud and shroud her own thoughts from the younger gold. But in the shrouding is a thread of indulgence, silvered about the edges and lifting sporadically in tantalizing snippets of very vague, amorphous 'what might bes.' "She did," Satiet agrees, a hand scooting one of those steaming mugs towards Lujayn. "And we appreciate her alacrity." Though the slender woman doesn't offer up her own smile, she's relaxed, her shoulders rolled back easily and the tilt of her head less appraising of this weyrling and more welcoming. "Did you enjoy the ball? Did you," a beat skips, pale eyes narrowing faintly in thought of that night, "Go to the ball?"

"Of course I went," Lujayn reaches to grab the sliding mug, pulling it closer as she reminisces. "I'm glad I got a chance to visit the weavercraft beforehand, so I wasn't just a weasel in trousers and boots." Rielsath's focus fills up the silence as the girl takes a sip, adjusting mirrors and angles in the background of her mind to focus each little beam of light on a single point, trying to pierce the smoke offered up by Teonath. "It was a spectacular event. The best I can remember."

Ah, the weasel. Enlightenment dawns in Satiet's un-narrowed eyes, a curt nod afforded this knowledge. Her lips quirk to one side, fingers playing an idle dance about the glass mug's handle. "Did you enjoy dancing with your weyrlingmaster then?" It's much easier to spot I'daur, masked or not apparently; the cane gives him away.

Lujayn mirrors the small smile, perhaps channeling a bit of the weasel for the time being, or more likely Rielsath as the gold's persistent thoughts continue to hover, looking for an opening. "He needs some fun." She shrugs, feet swinging idly as they dangle from her stool's high seat. "Did you know it was me all along? I thought it was hard to tell."

In the repositioned mirrors that pierce light through her clouds, Teonath rumbles a low-toned amusement, the experience of years deftly bringing more smoke, backlit by a bonfire's flames, to shroud her thoughts. "The costume," Satiet begins, her mug lifted to hover below her lips, "Was striking enough to be noticed. That it was you?" The goldrider's pale, clear eyes slant sidelong to sweep up and down Lujayn's athletic frame, only to stop at those gray eyes. "Was more difficult." As for I'daur, the slight woman shifts in her stool a bit, one leg dropping to dangle inches, more like feet, away from the floor, and then remarks, "He does. But he'd say he finds fun enough in his bottles. Did you," Satiet tips her head again, her turn to be curious, "Happen to notice who he came with?"

Light met by more light, Rielsath attempts to insinuate herself into the flickering flames, using her own fiery arsenal to sneak down through the smokescreen. Perhaps a bit of damp, some ice melting under the sun's glare. What fuel burns there? "Oh, good." Lujayn looks pleased, relaxing even as her dragon insists that she pry at the meeting's purpose. "Glad it wasn't obvious." Gray eyes blink once, bright and curious despite the casual conversation. "I'daur mentioned someone called Anouka a few times, but I didn't recognize the name." She admits after a moment. Another sip, another shrug. "There's more kinds of fun than drinking. Nothing wrong with a little change."

There's a telling pause on the weyrwoman's face, the delicate features frozen for just a second before a crafted smile emerges, not unpleasant, but not cheerful either. "Ah. Her." The explanation follows with in a two-worded response, "His ex-weyrmate." But enlightened again, Satiet tucks this information away with a succession of head nods before moving on. The mug falls to the table, one hand curled about it, the other rested at the counter's edge. "Rielsath's persistent. Almost child-like. She reminds me of one of my daughters."

Lujayn watches all the more closely, the answer coming before she can press a question upon Satiet. There's more interesting things to discuss than ex-weyrmates and escorts at a ball, so the young goldrider plunges onwards. "Rielsath is Teonath's daughter," A thoughtful tilt of the head, tucking a strand of tawny hair behind one ear. "So she's /almost/ your daughter. By association, or something like that." She laughs briefly, grinning with that teasing look. "Think if she keeps at it long enough she'll get somewhere?"

The hand at the counter's edge drops, falling into the folds of Satiet's pants and when it reemerges, lays the intricate cords of a junior queenrider's knot on the counter with the badge of Aurora tucked in the middle of the double loops. "I-," Satiet pauses, a rather perturbed blink overcoming what she meant to say as the image of Rielsath as her daughter, by association even, falters her train of thought. "Oh Faranth, no." Face contorted a little, as the image imprints that much more deeply, the raven-haired woman shuts her eyes and shakes her head quickly though the older gold's merriment at Lujayn's conclusion wafts the smoke clouds away to reveal an image of Rielsath flanking Teonath's side in flight and fight.

The weyrwoman's negation of her idea makes Lujayn smile all the wider, laughing that much longer. Both of those merry habits freeze when the knot appears; though she knew it eventually had to happen it's hardly less of a surprise. Rielsath's mind swoops joyfully down through the smokeless opening, sparks of exultant brightness flickering here and there. Yes, yes, yes. Delight shared by dragon and rider alike, Lujayn dares to grin again. "It was a good idea, at least. Is Teonath telling the truth?" There's the knot, the image from Satiet's gold, and still she asks. "Are we ready?"

Teonath, amused, watches this spectacle in her mind without much to add to it; what more could she conceivably say or convey now? "I imagine if you're not ready now, you'll never be." Dry, that quip, Satiet is nonetheless affable in her inclined head. "I won't give you pretty speeches of being honored to fly with you, or if you'll honor me by flying in Aurora. We'll discuss the terms of your new rank and what kind of duties you'll perform in the future with Jaispe. For now," the weyrwoman tilts her head to the side and slips off that stool, "We should be sure not to be late for the lower caverns staff meeting, yes?"

Lujayn nods, collecting the knot carefully. "That works just fine. I'm sure there are a lot of.." Something akin to panic flashes across her expression, though it's less severe. It might as well be 'ack!', but the smile doesn't disappear; that makes it that much more of a fleeting manic moment. "That's right, the meeting." Down goes the rest of the klah, mug set upon the counter with a heavy thud. Slipping off the stool, she starts off purposefully, maybe with a bit more of a spring in her step than her usual energy would provide. "Let's go."

They could walk in hand in hand, arms swinging and cheerful. However that's not Satiet, and that kind of behavior might scare Lujayn. Instead, the weyrwoman begins a brisk pace out to the lower caverns and the meeting venue, expectant that the newly made junior will tag along.

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Logs:Istan Tales

2011-12-03T21:42:06Z

Lujayn: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Malsaeth, Rielsath | where = | what = Malsaeth tells Rielsath a story. | when = day 16, month 3, Turn 16 | gamedate = 2008.04.30 | quote = Posarth's Tale | weath..."

{{ Log
| who = Malsaeth, Rielsath
| where =
| what = Malsaeth tells Rielsath a story.
| when = day 16, month 3, Turn 16
| gamedate = 2008.04.30
| quote = Posarth's Tale
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Lujayn
| icons =
| log =

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth's thoughts, while murky from half-sleep, grow. << It was a dark and stormy night. >> he begins, not seeming to mind whether she's asleep or not. For now, anyways. After all, he's got a story to tell.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath's night is clear and frigid, winter turning ever so slowly to a milder spring. The view of her bowl changes with these words, reflecting Malsaeth's opening words. << Was it really? >> No sunlight this time, just the frozen black breezes of her mountains dancing in curiosity.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth colors the night with stars hidden by overlying clouds, the moon a mere cresent in the background. << And everyone was asleep in the weyr. So no one could have ever expected to hear... the sound. >> Suspense builds as rain falls.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath watches after the stars with a quiet sort of patience, though she can't help but weave in the Aurora's shimmer with those colorful sparkles. Listening, just as notable in her silence as her chatter.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth lets the fog appear, tumble out of the clouds. << The sound that was like a thunderous wailing. One dragon, Posarth, seemingly the only one awake, flew from his ledge, in search of the sound. It called to him. Soon, others flew off their ledges and followed their hearts. >> The mist seems to grow and grow as he continues to tell the story to the sunfire Reachian gold.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath has a little flickering of flame, enough to keep the mists from engulfing her as they spread, though this golden circle of light is small. Letting her mind trail after Posarth, this mysterious protagonist dragon, she joins the legion of heart-followers as a tail of candlelight. Still quiet: Where, where?

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth sends Posarth out in the fog, a keening in the background making the scene all the more appropriate. Lightning strikes, lighting the way so very briefly for brave Posarth. << And so he searched and searched, and all the while, the wailing continued. >> Soon, the story is propelled further into the fog where a lonely island can be seen from Posarth's skyline advantage. A glint of fire. Something remarkably dark and mysterious lying in the middle of the island.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath holds fast to her candle, wavering and dim though it may be, a soft guide through the story. She'd rather swoop right down to the island to investigate, though the pace of the storyteller holds her back from plunging right in. So she waits, though with a bright, harsh edge of anticipation to her silence.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth lets the fog disperse only a little, making that little flame on the small lonely island in the big black sea that much brighter. << So Posarth began flying downward, so quickly downward. But the wind was harsh and furious that mysterious night. Every time Posarth tried to get to that island, to find the source of the sad frantic wailing, the wind would buck him again and again. >> The fog lifts finally, no rain in sight. Only thunder threatening rain. The story moves at Malsaeth's own pace, allowing conflict to enter the story of a dragon against nature.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath folds her wings with Posarth, diving down until the wind tears her back. Again and again, though, she goes. Not one to give up, scarlet irritation faint in comparison to the vivid ochre determination of her mindset. << Where is his rider? >> She finally asks, fed up with silence. << Couldn't his rider help? >>

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems to appreciate the questions, even if he does not answer them. << Posarth finally reached the wind after one last attempt. The fire seemed to blaze. A single tree now charred was lit like a glow. Underneath it lied the remnants of a small clutch of wild firelizards! But as Posarth looked around, he could not see any new firelizards on the island. In the distance, he could hear the wailing. The keening sound even closer now. >>

Dragon> Nothing but anticipation, no questions to ask that aren't obvious. Only an insistent urging, fiery colors persisting through darkness and fog. Go look, Posarth, find what's out there. Rielsath imagines the island, the tree and fire, adding details of her own making. The scent of burning wood and the colors on all the scattered shells. (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems to be inspired by the older dragon, the sunfire gold's urging all the more enticing as he continues the story. The dark night seems to get darker as the fire from the tree dies out. As lightning crackles, Posarth's shiny gold hide can be seen. Perhaps it is her personality, or perhaps it is the mother in her, but the gold surges forth, to find the source of the wailing. Soon, soon, the sound is closer. A gold in miniature, a wild gold firelizard lies in the water, following after two smaller firelizards, both green. << So Posarth darted forth, hoping to help the firelizard as rain began to fall, the night grew darker. But stormy weather is not any kind of deterrent for Posarth. >>

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath is glad to offer inspiration, guarding her candle from wind and waves as Posarth journeys on. She has slim pickings of maternal emotion thus far in life, but who wouldn't feel sorry for some little ol' firelizards? Her heart twinges, though this flash of rosy pink isn't advertised so loudly, covered with more intense red.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth lets Posarth fly further into the water, and soon, when she was close enough, dipped her head down in the cold dark waves to scoop the female firelizard up. << The wind, oh it was fierce that night, as Posarth tried to get at the two young hatchlings. But tried she did. >> Lightning flashes and it seems to spurn Posarth forward, showing the gold speeding ahead before finally, finally catching the younglings. The keen ceased, the gold firelizard was finally with her newly hatched children, but where was Posarth to take them to safety?

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath hovers, bright golden and flickering, back and forth across the dark water as a lantern might search for one lost at sea. The flash of lightning is a relief, illuminating the situation, but then Posarth is gone and the Reachian gold goes back to her searching. << She couldn't have just disappeared, >> Deciding rather firmly that the heroine could not have vanished so promptly.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth lets rain fall, lightening strike and soon, from the mountains, the fog arrives again, tumbling over the water. With no light to see, with no light in that darkness, the fog just sets the tone for a darker, more mysterious conclusion. << Her rider woke up later that day to find her Posarth gone. Her mindvoice there, just hovering. >> The conclusion is not yet done. The fog seems to disperse so slowly, glints of gold seen, but only sparingly.

Dragon> Contemplation comes in a mix of dark navy and some more spirited red tones, though dark and heavy. << Not gone, then. >> /She's/ gold, lending all the more spark to that faint glimmer of color that fights the mist. << If her rider could hear. >> (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth seems to expect the comments from the sunfire gold, seems to welcome it as much as the questions from before. << Her rider searched for her lifemate all day. She could only see darkness, only hear worry. >> But, out of those clouds, out of the lashing rain, out of the fog and other extreme weather outside, came the soft yellow glow of Posarth, tired. Ragged as she was, she still had that gold, still had those hatchlings. Soon, rider and dragon are united. Despite the dark of night and the dire conditions discovered, the brilliance of the pairing of maternal queen and her rider shines through like a beacon through the night.... << Did you like the story? >> he finally asks, as he allows his story of bravery to settle.

Rielsath> Malsaeth senses that Rielsath follows Posarth back, circling back and around, even straining forward to lead the gold back to her rider. Then there's reunion and a satisfied listener, finally letting her mind relax into its dappled sun and wintry flurries. << Yes. >> It's easier to tell a story when you can use images alongside words, not held back as humans find themselves. She lets the light dance here and there, soaking it up and adding it to her own luminescence. << It was a good story. >> Perhaps she had been sleeping initially, for her solar flares are dappled with sunset colors.

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth covers the story with a thin layer of gloss, his way of tying the story in a neat little bow, saving it for future tellings. << I thought so too. >> he growls. << Stories told right are better than anything except maybe meat. >>

Dragon> The fog and clouds are gone, leaving a clear blaze of orange across Rielsath's horizon at High Reaches. The descending golden disk of the sun is her own conclusion, a flash of light to mark the gloss with its reflection. The verdict is overwhelmingly supportive, though soon she's drifting back to sleep with thoughts of Posarth and rescuing firelizards circling in her somnolent mind. << Stories about meat, >> She offers faintly, a wisp of pale gold vanishing to night's complete embrace and nothing more. (Rielsath to Malsaeth)

Dragon> Rielsath senses that Malsaeth makes the fog and cloud arrive again, the blaze of orange seemingly duller with the haze of weather. << Next time. >> he tells her, seemingly growing more and more tired himself, seemingly satisfied by such a good story. The fact that the gold's supportive only makes him prouder. << Next time, another story. >> And with that, the wisps of the fog leave as he slumbers.

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