https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/api.php?action=feedcontributions&feedformat=atom&user=Roz 2026-04-07T15:26:06Z User contributions MediaWiki 1.24.2 https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=85569 2016-11-17T19:16:27Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=faridehprofiler.png<br /> |body=== Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> <br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Daughter<br /> {{!}}Andreia<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1469347200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Faridehprofiler.png&diff=85568 2016-11-17T19:16:12Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div></div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=85567 2016-11-17T19:13:27Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=Tumblr odcuutzHD61qcpno5o1 1280.jpg<br /> |body=== Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> <br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Daughter<br /> {{!}}Andreia<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1469347200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=85566 2016-11-17T19:11:49Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=Tumblr odcuutzHD61qcpno5o1 1280.jpg<br /> |body=== Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Daughter<br /> {{!}}Andreia<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1469347200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=85565 2016-11-17T19:09:42Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=Tumblr odcuutzHD61qcpno5o1 1280.jpg<br /> |body=== Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Daughter<br /> {{!}}Andreia<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1469347200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=File:Tumblr_odcuutzHD61qcpno5o1_1280.jpg&diff=85564 2016-11-17T19:09:32Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div></div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Happy,_happy!&diff=85551 2016-08-23T14:44:59Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, Leova, Leova{{!}}Vrianth |what=Leova checks in on Roszadyth and surprises Farideh with some ''happy'' suggestions. |where=Mountain M...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, Leova, Leova{{!}}Vrianth<br /> |what=Leova checks in on Roszadyth and surprises Farideh with some ''happy'' suggestions.<br /> |where=Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Area<br /> |involves=High Reaches Area, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=14<br /> |month=8<br /> |turn=41<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.08.21<br /> |quote=&quot;Edyis or A'rist for ''you'', for clutchsire?&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Jocelyn, K'del, Drex, Jo, Mielline, Edyis, A'rist, Ethran, Andreia, Anvori, Lilabet, Madilla, Via, Veylin, Varian<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh roszadyth demure.jpg, Icon farideh displeased.png, Icon leova on-the-move.jpg, Icon leova vrianth standing distant layer.jpg,<br /> |log=The grasses are drier now than they had been earlier in the season, but they don't exactly ''crunch'' beneath landing dragons' paws, much less the faint riffle of the breeze. This far inland, there's no hint of salt in the air, and diffuse clouds filter the summer sunshine. The dragonhealer, dealing with Vrianth's straps, can spare an eye for Roszadyth; &quot;How's she feel, after the straight flight?&quot; The corner of her mouth turns up. &quot;How are ''you'' surviving? We'll 'tween back.&quot; Don't worry.<br /> <br /> &quot;Roszadyth is glad to have the wind under her wings,&quot; the goldrider says, glancing fondly from her lifemate to the dragonhealer. It has been little more than a month since the birth of Farideh's second that they've been cleared to fly again, and it's clear they both enjoyed the sensation. Farideh is rosy cheeked, with her shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows and her hair all skewed atop her head. &quot;I feel better after this second than I did after the first, though the recovery was long-- is that not odd?&quot; She laughs at her own circumstances, giving the gold dragon a fond pat on her side flank. &quot;How have you been? I feel as though I see you less often, than before. I see everyone less often than before,&quot; is more thoughtful than deprecating.<br /> <br /> Vrianth is not patient with the straps, nor is she the patient here. She ''prowls'' as soon as she's freed, talons light on the earth and not so much as tangling in its grasses, with an errant sniff for Rozadyth's hip along the way. Those straps are small, nothing like a queen's, but still they make a substantial pile by the green's saddlebags. Leova's laughing too, though. &quot;Rather that than worse! ''Good''. Let yourself take the time to recover, mayhaps.&quot; She stretches, her own sun-rusted hair disheveled even once she's run a hand through it. &quot;Been keeping busy. Want to get things done over the summer, before we all chill up in our caves... speaking of, getting work done on the weyr, too. Trying not to look into Via ''too'' much,&quot; young harper apprentice that she is.<br /> <br /> Roszadyth is ''happy''! Tendrils of her sunny interior reach out and ''embrace'' everyone. ''Happy'', '''happy'''! Content to simply sit in the sunshine, this far from home, and, head canted, observe Vrianth's prowling. &quot;I ''try'', but I get terribly irritable staying in one place that long.&quot; Farideh takes Leova's lead and stretches her own arms overhead, before her hands make their way to her hips in a settled manner. &quot;Now is the time to do it. What kind of changes were you making?&quot; she asks, interested, and then with a little more curiosity, &quot;How is she? You cannot tell me you haven't looked into it at all. I won't believe you any. If it was Ethran, I'd be getting ''regular'' reports.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm.&quot; Leova's cheeks warm visibly, a rarity, and she glances away. Glances to her dragon. &quot;We're supposed to be working,&quot; is no defense from the ''happy'' that Vrianth doesn't save her from, and it's not like there isn't usually quiet talk at these times. Vrianth's eyes are green within the blue, looking back to her, clearly amused. Leova's smile crinkles about her eyes, in the curve of her lips. &quot;Won't say I don't check in. If Suireh weren't off posted, would feel better. But. Madilla's daughter, she's there too, though much older,&quot; with a wry tilt of that smile for ''that''. &quot;Do you see him Crafting?&quot;<br /> <br /> A side-glance is given to the gold by her rider, and those warm cheeks are courteously not commented on. &quot;I apologize. We still haven't-- we don't get out ''that'' often, and she's happy to be ''away''. They aren't her eggs, after all, and that makes her a little-- sad. A little. I remind her that they're her daughter's, but it's ''not the same''.&quot; Dragons. &quot;That's got to be a relief, knowing someone there can look out for her, at least,&quot; Farideh muses aloud. &quot;Ethran? I don't know. I suppose he can, if he wants to. I don't know how Drex would feel about it, but perhaps the seacraft. It would make it more official, wouldn't it? He's so small now. I don't think he has a-- you know, ''skill'' yet.&quot;<br /> <br /> For the apology, Leova has a slight lift of one shoulder: not fussed, not really. Besides, she's ''happy''. &quot;Oh, Roszadyth,&quot; she says, with another smile that has nothing halfway about it at all. &quot;Remind her that you're happy... you are, aren't you? ...to get to go out and about now, not be in the heat of the summer? As for ''skill''... suppose that puts paid to the rumor of his being born with a silver oar in his mouth,&quot; her smoky alto all humor even as Vrianth takes flight at last. ''Happy.''<br /> <br /> Two happy dragons! Oh, so happy. And free! &quot;I am. I remind her all the time. She's happy about Andreia too, but-- it's been two and a half turns now. Do you think she won't rise for ''longer'' since she rose ''too soon''?&quot; Momentarily, Farideh looks concerned for her lifemate, but then it's back to contented. &quot;A silver ''oar''. I think Drex would be mad to hear it. Worse, my mother would. I'll be happy if he grows up happy. He could be a sailor, or a harper, or a rider-- anything.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;A tanner,&quot; suggests Leova, touching a finger to the side of her nose. Only then she catches herself, saying quickly, &quot;''Useful'' craft. Don't know what we'd do without them. Just, well.&quot; The smell! The look she gives Roszadyth isn't accusing exactly, more assessing. ''Glad'' to assess. &quot;Might be, aye. Though I reckon it's more having three breeding queens, hm? Interval and all that. She looks in good health, I saw the way she moved.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;A tanner,&quot; gets the wrinkling of Farideh's freckled nose. &quot;As soon a vintner. At least, he can bring home wine bottles when he visits.&quot; It may be joke, or not. &quot;You might be right. Niahvth hasn't risen yet either, so it must be-- it must be. Roszadyth must be the only one who misses the whole ordeal. ''I'' certainly don't.&quot; And she scowls, because memories of ''that'' night have to be unpleasant; fights, flights, and flighty men. &quot;That's good to hear. I worry sometimes.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;At least, he'll learn which wine is good, hm? Wonder about vintner for one of the twins, now that you mention it. Though Anvori,&quot; but Leova doesn't continue the thought. There's Roszadyth to look over, that familiar procedure, moving around the queen to examine her apparent health. Her stretching flexbility, too. The span of her wings. Even, with the help of her glowtube, the membranes of her mouth and nostrils. Her teeth. Her eyes. It takes time, time to talk. Along the way, &quot;Get that, with everything.&quot; The looks. The significances. The consequences. All the things they've talked about, sometimes, or else had a place to ''not'' talk. &quot;Even if Ros rose and Niahvth still didn't, I wouldn't worry,&quot; though she might keep an eye on it, and the betting might change. Would change. &quot;Get Irianke's not wanting a glut,&quot; though the word's audibly uncomfortable. Just that word.<br /> <br /> &quot;Which one?&quot; It isn't likely Farideh can tell one from the other, but there is importance in knowing who might be hustling wine around the Weyr.. even in the future. &quot;You think Irianke is keeping her from rising?&quot; That thought makes a little furrow form between her brows. &quot;I wonder if we will resort to brown suitors-- she always said, whomever-- she wouldn't, but then Aidavanth--&quot; She begins worrying her bottom lip, as the dragonhealer checks out the gold. &quot;It's an Interval,&quot; is said blankly, as a matter of fact.<br /> <br /> &quot;Either. No, the girl, safer,&quot; Leova supposes, saving the other woman from the names. &quot;No, not ''keeping'' her,&quot; though her own expression turns briefly speculative, curious: how hard would that be? &quot;Just, hm. Finding something to appreciate about the situation as it is.&quot; She walks under the queen's near wing, looking up at how the sun sets the fine membranes aglow. &quot;Interval, aye. What ''do'' you make of that pair?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Safer?&quot; The greenrider's admission makes Farideh laugh. &quot;I can't imagine why girls in the vintner craft would be any safer.&quot; It's short-lived amusement, turned serious by the topic of conversation. &quot;That pair? Irianke and Niahvth? I think Irianke is a competent weyrwoman. She's not experiencing the same-- ''problems'', I did when I took over for her absence. That speaks volumes, I think. We haven't gone hungry. No holds are rebelling. That we ''know'' of. Everything is going ''well''. Don't you think?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm. Father, son, father who's skilled but ''not'' a vintner,&quot; wry, protective. Leova listens through a first moment of surprise, says, &quot;Aye. I think so, I hope so.&quot; Her fingers are crossed, held high to see before she returns to tracing a vein's flow. &quot;Want to keep it that way. Did mean Aidavanth and Akluseth, though. Jocelyn and Edyis, Jocelyn and Aidavanth? Edyis and Akluseth. Those.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm. Father, son, father who's skilled but ''not'' a vintner,&quot; wry, protective. Leova listens through a first moment of surprise, says, &quot;Aye. I think so, I hope so.&quot; Her fingers are crossed, held high to see before she returns to tracing a vein's flow. &quot;Want to keep it that way. Meant, I admit, Aidavanth and Akluseth though. Jocelyn and Edyis, Jocelyn and Aidavanth? Edyis and Akluseth. Those.&quot;<br /> <br /> There's the moment of ''ah-ha'' that goes by quietly, because Farideh ''does'' know that one well; non-crafter weyrmates and their potentially-crafter children; pride and all that. &quot;Adavanth and Akluseth,&quot; she breathes out, a wry smile arising. &quot;They seem to be working out well? I haven't heard ''too'' terrible of gossip, but those same gossips swear K'del is schlepping one of the newly posted healer apprentices.&quot; Her tone suggests she doesn't buy into that particular rumor. &quot;And the eggs? What do you think?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;K'del? A ''healer'' '''''apprentice'''''?&quot; It is, for Leova, to laugh with her own quiet dismissiveness. Not that Vrianth doesn't glance keenly down from on high: ''Cadejoth''. &quot;Eggs seem well enough,&quot; the dragonhealer says after a slow moment. &quot;Hardening. Hoping for more of the smaller dragons, though can't say there won't be a bronze crammed in there, even with that sire. Eleven, eleven's good. There might be one,&quot; but she hesitates.<br /> <br /> &quot;A few of his children are old enough to be the ones schlepping the healer apprentice,&quot; Farideh supplies, dryly, and perhaps that's the case given birth rights. She's all seriousness again to listen to the greenrider's take on the eggs. &quot;Eleven is a lot, isn't it? Eleven new dragons, eleven new riders-- when we have three queens.&quot; Grave. &quot;I hope Roszadyth doesn't rise for a while or Niahvth either, and I hope theirs are ''small''-- er.&quot; Reverberating through the meadow, through the sheen of ''happiness'': ''Cadejoth''!? ''Where''!? And he may be getting a knock-knock on his end. Poor Cadejoth.<br /> <br /> The implication's heard, given the new quality of Leova's chuckle, but there's no dwelling on ''that'' from the dragonhealer. Rather: &quot;Mm, substantial, but not 'so many the comet must be coming back,' aye? Got to say, wouldn't have expected Edyis to stand clutchsire, but seems like she's been fair regular about it all. Good girl.&quot; And because of the ''happy'', even though Vrianth's snorting a not-here, &quot;Edyis or A'rist for ''you'', for clutchsire?&quot; she teases. &quot;If you had to pick.&quot; If she ''got'' to pick.<br /> <br /> Little to do but stand back and watch -- and likely war internally with her dragon -- Farideh paces in the grass, frowning. &quot;I haven't kept tabs on Edyis lately. We've had our days, where she's been-- angry, with me. Has she gotten better?&quot; She glances to Leova. &quot;I--&quot; Mouth opens, mouth closes, both a few times. &quot;I don't know. A'rist wasn't-- he's--&quot; She flushes and folds her arms. &quot;It would be weird, with Edyis. We used to be friends.&quot;<br /> <br /> The question, the ''what happened'', lingers in the air, but evidently Leova's not so Roszadyth-''happy'' that she asks. Or perhaps it has to do with the concentration on the little bits, between the queen's talons, asking to see them flex. &quot;Sorry that didn't go down so good. Yeah, she's had ''moods'',&quot; a word that lingers too, &quot;Can't say how she is for people mostwise, but standing by her duties there, that's something. Don't know why she'd be angry with you... 'less it were your moods,&quot; that with a half-smile that's not quite that question after all.<br /> <br /> When Leova isn't looking, Farideh scowls at her back, but true to form, she's blowing out a breath and returning to a less grumpy disposition. &quot;I hope she's treating Jocelyn well. I don't get along with ''either'' of them-- that might be the ticket. They can bond on their mutual dislike of ''me'',&quot; is definitely self-deprecating. &quot;I'm glad though. Responsibility might be just what she needed. It seemed to work for K'del-- sort of, when he's not being all big-headed.&quot; Tell them how you really feel, Farideh.<br /> <br /> &quot;Aside from then,&quot; Leova not-agrees quite gravely. &quot;''Like'' to see responsibility goes to those as are responsible already... but 'side from that, good when it does help.&quot; She pauses. &quot;You realize I'll want you and them, Ros and Aidavanth, to get back to working on rescuing the falling dragons when Aidavanth's off the sands? 'Round a month off, give or take when she's back to more of herself again. Like to see your girl getting more ''active'' exercise in the meantime, too, not just floating about. Like today, but agility too.&quot; It's not quite a throat-clearing, just a pause for the sheer size of golds, &quot;Best she can, anyhow.&quot;<br /> <br /> The look on Farideh's face becomes more and more resigned. &quot;Of course, whenever they're able to.&quot; It's the second half that takes her by surprise, but she's quick to hide that jolt of shock behind a placid facade. &quot;Exercise? What do you suggest?&quot; Roszadyth doesn't seem annoyed by this news, rather she seems even ''happier''! Hurray! Twitching her wings, she stirs restlessly, wide eyes taking in Leova with renewed interest.<br /> <br /> It's not that Leova winks at Roszadyth, precisely, more of a slow half-closing of her eyes before fully opening them once more. &quot;Getting out. See if you can get a fighting wing to take you on for some drills, not the flaming variety. Snowdrift, maybe? Swimming'd be good too, but in addition. Races over distance. Shadow some long sweeps. The more you can get in before winter, the better, but,&quot; she's a healer, there's a 'but,' &quot;ramp it up slowly so's not to overdo, too. What will you give a go first?&quot;<br /> <br /> Wind ripples the grass and makes more sound than Farideh does when Leova reveals her suggestion. It takes a brace of seconds before the goldrider can put together words. &quot;A fighting wing?&quot; she echoes, hollowly. &quot;You want us to-- Mielline's wing.&quot; An indelicate sniff. &quot;You think she needs it?&quot; Her eyes lift to her lifemate, locking eyes with those big, wide-set, swirly ones. &quot;If it's what you suggest, then we will,&quot; but her tone suggests she might not be happy with it. &quot;Have a go at? I-- don't know.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Or another. There's always Glacier,&quot; might be teasing. Might. &quot;Think about it, do some talking around. I'll make a note for Irianke,&quot; as usual, &quot;though you'll see her before I will, hm? Want to hear from you in the next few days.' It's not volition that has Leova smiling when she spots the pair, though, looking at each other the way they are. Catching an idea, &quot;Think of it this way: if she ''does'' go up, you'll want her in fine fettle before she sits the sands.&quot; And for the flight itself?<br /> <br /> &quot;Glacier,&quot; cue face-making. &quot;I'll take Snowdrift if I'm to take any. At least, there's Jo, and Mielline isn't the most terrible that there is.&quot; Farideh drops her gaze from her dragon to the greenrider, somber-faced. &quot;I don't ''know'' that that's a good idea. The shorter the flight--&quot; Her eyes shift aside and there are ''plenty'' of words unspoken; but what does she -- the one flight only-er -- know?<br /> <br /> &quot;Jo's not shown up much in the gossip lately,&quot; Leova murmurs in lieu of calling Snowdrift's high or scant praise. ''Unusual''. But more importantly, &quot;Fewer eggs,&quot; unless you're Niahvth for whatever reason, &quot;but higher chance of crash.&quot; So there's that. &quot;On top of needing her reserves and condition for the sands. Which, yes, may be a Turn or more, but we don't ''know''.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I believe she's been lying low.&quot; And that's all Farideh can give on that front, having being stuck in her weyr for much of the last few months. &quot;Or Mielline could have told her ''lie low'',&quot; as an after thought. &quot;Higher chance of crash.&quot; Sigh. &quot;Fine. ''Fine''-- I understand, it's just--&quot; She makes another face, not even trying to hide it; she's grown beyond these exercises it seems to say! &quot;I'll talk to Irianke-- and, if need be, K'del, about-- doing rotations with Snowdrift.&quot;<br /> <br /> Thought or afterthought, the combination reflects in Leova's deep, one-cornered smile. At that face of Farideh's, it changes tone but still has that latent mischief of what's perhaps the girl she used to be. Perhaps. Vrianth is ''happy''. Thank you,&quot; Leova says once her tone can be made grave once more, and with real seriousness. &quot;I realize this will take more of your time. Perhaps, at least, you can go to ''fun'' places. In the meantime,&quot; surely there are more ''fun'' topics with which to continue surveying Farideh's queens, the better to return to the Weyr with lighter hearts. ''Between.''<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=85550 2016-08-21T22:33:23Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body=== Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Daughter<br /> {{!}}Andreia<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1469347200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Knobbly-Kneed_Fish-Bait&diff=85525 2016-07-30T15:13:13Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Knobbly-Kneed Fish-Bait]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (08:13, 30 July 2016 (PDT)) said... ==<br /> <br /> Drex surely knows how to welcome people to the Weyr. &lt;3</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Angry_Bottles&diff=85329 2016-06-13T22:29:06Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Angry Bottles]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (15:29, 13 June 2016 (PDT)) said... ==<br /> <br /> This is why we can't have nice things, guys!!!! DDDD:</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Ring_Around_The_Rosie&diff=85326 2016-06-11T03:12:31Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Quint, Ethran |what=Farideh and Quint go 'round and 'round. |where=Tillek Hold |involves=High Reaches Area, High Reaches Weyr, Tillek Hold |day=4 |month=13...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint, Ethran<br /> |what=Farideh and Quint go 'round and 'round.<br /> |where=Tillek Hold<br /> |involves=High Reaches Area, High Reaches Weyr, Tillek Hold<br /> |day=4<br /> |month=13<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.06.04<br /> |quote=Ashes, ashes, we all fall '''down'''.<br /> |weather=Snow.<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Jocelyn<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint thumbsup.gif,<br /> |log=Tillek is a white, wintry wonderland, from snow-covered earth to the frosted tents and banners set out in the gather grounds. It's early in the day yet when a contigent from High Reaches Weyr arrives, complete with an assortment of riders. &quot;Stop-- you're going to catch your ''death'' if you don't--&quot; Farideh sighs and gives up on trying to secure the buttons on her toddler son's coat, leaving the precocious child's nanny to chase after the too-quick one turn old. She watches as they dash away into the crowd, wearing an expression of dissatisfaction, despite the jovial attitudes of her comrades nearby; they, at least, look like they've come to enjoy what diversions Tillek has to offer. But the goldrider, already annoyed, declines their offer to join, and instead meanders slowly after Ethran and his nanny, snuggling her chin down into the down of her fluffed collar.<br /> <br /> It's too early in the day for dancing, yet, though a couple of the hold's harpers are setting up instruments, strumming more in practice than earnestly from their post near the dance floor, the faint sounds drifting out across the gather as a pleasant backdrop. For now, the rotunda that forms the centerpiece of the gather is host to other early risers and their children, clapping, singing (and some stamping) along to a well-known nursery song, lead by a pair of harpers -- one with Tillek's knot, and one more familiar one with High Reaches'. The song involves a holder and his many, many animals, the noise of which is enthusiastically given by Quint and echoed by the children.<br /> <br /> The song, or the perhaps it's the other children, pulls Ethran away from his madcap dash, giggling and all, through the crowd. He stops, enthralled, and his nanny too stops outside the ring of children, breathing heavily after her chasing efforts. Lastly, Farideh makes her way closer, bemused by the scene at first, and upon closer examination, amused by the familiar harper helping to lead the sing-a-long. For the moment, she's as much a spectator as the rest, however a silent one among the giddy and off-kilter voices.<br /> <br /> To his credit (or the credit of his profession), Quint throws himself into the song as wholeheartedly as any other, his, &quot;Here a ''moo'', there a ''moo''!&quot; accompanied by an enthusiasm that can't be wholly faked. When they get to the end of the song, there's a polite clapping from parents and guardians alike, and the two harpers confer briefly. The Tillekian harper stands, gesturing, &quot;For the next one, we need everyone to make a circle and hold hands -- let's do it around the outside, huh?&quot; it takes some time for any kind of organization to arise and a proper circle to form, so that by the time the 'Ring-a-round the rosie' starts up, Quint's politely and yet deliberately extricated himself a couple of steps away from the now slowly moving circle. That he's ended up next to Farideh is no coincidence: &quot;Joining in, weyrwoman?&quot; he asks, with a kind of deliberate blandness.<br /> <br /> Tiny hands make tiny claps, but Ethran's attention is captivated completely until there's the call for circle making; its up to his nanny to convince him to hold hands with his neighbors, which includes her own mitten-covered hand. &quot;Me? Oh, no,&quot; Farideh exclaims, after a slight nod to the harper in greeting. &quot;I'm not one for all of-- ''that''. I'm surprised you're here. Last we met, you were-- what? Guarding someone's treasures in the middle of a road? I thought you'd still be wasting away there. How''ever'' did it turn out?&quot; She turns inquisitive hazel eyes on the harper, eyebrows uplift in expectation, the antics of the children and their ringing-the-rosie outside of her interests of the moment.<br /> <br /> &quot;All of ''what''?&quot; Quint response, with a curious tip of his head as he regards Farideh. &quot;Singing?&quot; with a flippant gesture at the children. &quot;Oh, well, yes,&quot; of their run-in. &quot;I was rescued before I was accosted by anything more than a curiously nosy avian or two,&quot; he allows. Perhaps he deliberately misunderstands her question, for it's towards the children now circling around to rotunda that he gestures: &quot;Do you know the origin of this song? Some people claim it was about a plague -- not unlike the one we recently suffered under -- and that the falling down was the bodies falling in the street. Strange, isn't it -- the concept of time and distance -- and what it can do to our perspective of events.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Singing, ''dancing'',&quot; as if the moving could be considered such, but then there are those children so inclined to do more than side-step in a circle. &quot;That's a little bit morose for a gather, especially given what conspired recently--&quot; Farideh's voice is dry as she turns to regard Quint, eyes narrowed and all. &quot;What do you mean? I don't agree with how you always speak in riddles, as though I have the time and effort to decipher them.&quot; She lips tug to the side, before her eyes flick back to the children. &quot;We always seem to meet in the oddest of places, even ''here''.&quot; Which might imply more that she finds ''him'' odd, than the actual randomness of their meetings, considering tone of voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well, it's not a claim always substantiated, but it's one of those rumors that persist, and when you see--&quot; Quint sucks in his breath as the the children ''all fall down'', exhaling low and long. Nevermind the children, for the most part, seem happy squirming around in the fresh-fallen, soft snow; he focuses his gaze rather deliberately on Farideh. &quot;I'd always thought I was rather plain-spoken myself; but then I suppose only a person knows their own mind, mm?&quot; His brows go upwards at that last. &quot;Well, if it makes you feel more... ''comfortable'', I was posted here for two Turns -- about when I was your current age,&quot; he allows, with a thoughtful glance. &quot;It's good to touch base with those I've grown friendly with. I intend to do the same, after I've left High Reaches -- assuming you don't think it too ''odd''?&quot; he tips his head, no sense of amusement in his gaze, like he's genuinely waiting for Farideh's permission.<br /> <br /> Ethran goes along with the game the other children play, and seems delighted on a whole with the whole charade. He claps his hands and giggles, completely oblivious to the nature of the conversation his mother seems to be having with the harper; nor will he be conscious of such things, likely for turns to come, yet. &quot;Plain spoken? Truly? Who told you that?&quot; Farideh blinks back at Quint in disbelief, and then laughs briefly. Cupping a gloved hand around her mouth, she gives her head a toss, amusement alive in her more-green-than-brown hazel eyes. &quot;Plainly is simple, simple is-- well, I'm sure you know what simple is.&quot; She sends a maternal look her child's way, and then: &quot;You're more than welcome to keep in touch. I'm ''sure'' I'm more willing to do that than our dear friend Jocelyn. ''Unless'' you've managed to win her over?&quot; Except the lift of brow and lips suggest doubt.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well, it's all a matter of perspective, you see,&quot; Quint says, in easy, unperturbed answer to the weyrwoman's disbelief. &quot;''Plain'', is also ''truthful'',&quot; he amends to Farideh's counter, falling silent while Farideh gazes at her child. Instead of following her gaze, however, his stays on the goldrider, thoughtful of expression himself. &quot;Well, that is a relief,&quot; the harper says, as if Farideh's particular blessing was of great importance to him. It's the latter that shifts his expression, marginally, head tipping. &quot;It's interesting, isn't it, the way one's upbringing shapes one to different views, despite now having a shared experience and circumstance between you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;You can be as plain and truthful as you want, but when you start talking in long sentences that seem to have no end, without clarity--&quot; Farideh's finger traces a seemingly aimless pattern in the air, before her hands falls back to her side, only shortly, and then she's lifting it again to point an accusing finger at the harper. &quot;We are talking about ''you'' and Jocelyn, ''me'',&quot; comes as a nudging reminder; it holds no warning, only waning amusement at his flip.<br /> <br /> Quint grimaces, and doesn't try to hide the brief embarrassment the words engender. &quot;I'm afraid that's as much a part of my calling as anything else. Certainly it's not intended to befuddle, yet eloquence by its very nature forms a part of a harper's story telling, I'm afraid.&quot; His brows go upwards at the latter. &quot;Were we?&quot; With a tip of head, like he'd forgotten, only a slight glint in blue eyes to betray amusement. &quot;Yet there's very little to tell, and so much more to muse on in your own relationship with your fellow weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It is quite strange. When I was younger, I loved to sit and listen to the posted harper sing, and sometimes he'd sit and improv. All of that-- what do you call it-- ''eloquence''. Now, it's grating. Isn't that something?&quot; The goldrider wiggles her fingers in her gloves, glancing down at them, before her eyes flick back up to Quint. &quot;Hm,&quot; Farideh says, the sound dissatisfied, &quot;What is there to tell of ''that''? We each do our own job. We report to the Weyrwoman. We have our own lives.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It's something,&quot; Quint agrees, with ease. &quot;Some might suggest that's a loss of innocence, a loss of joy. Me, personally -- well -- everyone reaches a point at which they realize that some stories are ''just'' a story, and not to be dreamed of or chased. People react differently to that awareness.&quot; While the children are doing their shuffle dance around the rotunda again, the harper's eyes stray there for a moment, a subtle tap of fingers against his leg in time of the music. &quot;Some might find common ground, or even comfort and a sense of camaraderie in such a circumstance, that's all,&quot; he says, spreading his hands as if attempting to dissipate her dissatisfaction.<br /> <br /> &quot;A loss of-- ''joy'',&quot; Farideh repeats, in much softer tones and with much more thoughtfulness put into the actual words; she's spinning that one around in her head. &quot;''Some'' might. Some might also have a break down and be sentenced to the infirmary. Things never quite happen as we imagine, and I'm long past the point of dreaming up some fairtale place where everyone gets along and treats each other nicely. We do what we can-- and sometimes-- sometimes a little opposition can be a good thing.&quot; She levels a ''look'' on the harper, but her eyes go flitting off again as Ethran, easily bored, starts to trip off in the opposite direction, nanny in tow.<br /> <br /> &quot;Yes, indeed, it can,&quot; the harper swiftly agrees, with a genuine smile. &quot;For all of us, in fact.&quot; Quint follows her gaze towards her son and nanny, before he says, &quot;Don't feel obligated to stay on my behalf. I have plenty to keep me busy.&quot; He gestures towards the group of children, now gathering in pairs for some other game the hold's harper has in store for them. &quot;Perhaps you'll allow me to purchase a drink for you later, in the spirit of celebrating opposition?&quot; His head tips, waiting on her response.<br /> <br /> Farideh regards the harper with wary eyes and her head tilted to the side, ''reading''-- his expression? his intentions? &quot;In the spirit of celebrating opposition, Harper Quintus,&quot; she acquisces, inclining her head in a curt nod. &quot;Until later.&quot; It's as much of a stalemate as he'll get out of the conflict-happy goldrider, before she picks up her skirts and follows, at a much more sedate pace, in the footsteps of the other duo. Later, there wil be time for more small talk, or confusing talk, and drinks, on the harper's dime.<br /> |Categories=Gather Logs, General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Drinking_Games&diff=85323 2016-06-05T00:38:40Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Drex, Degran |what=Sailors drinking in Snowasis get interrupted by an irritable goldrider. |where=Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Drex, Degran<br /> |what=Sailors drinking in Snowasis get interrupted by an irritable goldrider.<br /> |where=Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=11<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.05.29<br /> |quote=&quot;Why, once, we were in this tiny backwater port, and there were all these girls with these ''big''...&quot;<br /> |mentions=Itsy<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh displeased.png, Icon drex youknownothing.jpg,<br /> |log=It's early evening in the Snowasis, and the bar is buzzing. With winter in place, fewer are making the trip to outside bars, and any excuse to avoid a cold weyr is welcome by many of the Weyr's riders, judging by the noise in the place. Over at a small table near the back stairs, Drex presides over a table full of empty pitchers of beer, with the other occupant -- a wide-chested laconic man known as Degran, one of Drex's fellow shipmates, apparently -- is currently chugging the contents of another pitcher to the cheers and whoops of onlookers nearby, spilling most of it onto the floor. This is probably not an uncommon occurrence.<br /> <br /> Weyrlife has kept Farideh busy; busy enough during the times when her weyrmate is not weyrbound. However, tonight, with intermittent lightning, thunder, and snow, there's far too little places to go and even less to ''hide''. Did she search for him? Did some little birdie whisper in her ear? It's easy to imagine the possibilities, but eventually the goldrider ''does'' show up at Snowasis, navigating through smiles and dubious stares towards the pitcher-happy sailor and his mate.<br /> <br /> There's a swell of applause and laughter as Degran finishes the pitcher, with Drex jumping to his feet. &quot;Another!&quot; Drex declares, to the delighted cheering of the crowd, gesturing towards the bar. It definitely isn't the first time he's called for ''another'', given the alacrity with which the bartender produces another pitcher. &quot;Chug, chug, chug!&quot; starts up the chant, one to which Drex is contributing with gusto -- at least until he catches sight of Farideh with one of those fixed, wide-eyed caught looks. Welp. Degran doesn't seem to notice, however, lifting the full pitcher to his mouth.<br /> <br /> Getting close enough to see the complete scene before her -- pitchers, sailors, groupies -- Farideh stops in her tracks once the chants begin, her unaffected gaze traversing the people responsible for the terrible sound. Her eyes make their way back to Drex slowly, but no emotion is betrayed on her face save for, after a short pause, the quirk of a brow in his direction. ''Well''?<br /> <br /> Hastily scrambling to his feet, Drex diverts around his fellow sailor -- obliviously drinking -- and makes to pull out a chair, as if Farideh might want to join them. &quot;Can I get you something? Uh, juice?&quot; he squints at her, as if trying to determine her reaction.<br /> <br /> Regardless of the quick reaction, dubious green eyes nearly imperceptible narrow once the sailor is close; a long, drawn out pause follows, but then Farideh sits, refocusing her attention on the oblivious sailor across the table. &quot;I'm fine. You've put away enough for the both of us, or more,&quot; is drenched in snideness, emotion finally leeching from her composed -- irate? -- facade. &quot;You've even got an audience. Lovely.&quot; ''Lovely''!<br /> <br /> Sinking into the seat next to Farideh, Drex's eyes return to Degran with a smirk at how he's faring with the pitcher -- starting to struggle in the mid-game. His weyrmate's words, however, draw his gaze back with a scowl, hands lifted, &quot;I aint that drunk. It's mostly Degran.&quot; Which is totally cool, that he's not only mooching off his girl, but his friends are too. &quot;Just a bit of fun,&quot; he says, defensively. &quot;I mean,&quot; he leans closer, trying for empathy and probably shooting wide of the mark with his: &quot;If you wanted something stronger to drink I ''could'' get it. I mean, one can't hurt, right?&quot;<br /> <br /> Degran might garner a smirk from his compatriot, but Farideh stares at him with distaste. &quot;Just a bit of fun,&quot; she repeats in distracted fashion. &quot;It ''looks'' like a headache.&quot; For her? For him? For Degran? Her eyes flick back from the swilling sailor to her weyrmate, her mouth set in an unfavorable line before she speaks. &quot;One can't hurt? I seem to recall, the last time, you wouldn't let me enjoy even ''that''.&quot; But, she waves a hand, and then folds both arms over her chest in a defensive motion. &quot;Just thinking about it makes me ill.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Oh, he's a head for ale, no doubt. Why, once, we were in this tiny backwater port, and there were all these girls with these ''big''...&quot; Drex's hands are out, as if visually crafting the scene, when his eyes brush past towards Farideh and he realizes this is probably ''not'' a story to tell to his weyrmate, clearing his throat. &quot;Anyway. He can handle it, s'all.&quot; Awkwardly, he lets one hand drop, the other reaching to pet Farideh's hand, if she'll let him. &quot;Well -- Ethran turned out ok. And you look,&quot; he's frowning at her. &quot;You aint getting sick, are you? I heard there's something going around the Weyr.&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh says, &quot;Girls with big ''what''?&quot; Don't poke the pregnant woman, or make her realize less than virtuous truths, anyway. Farideh settles an irritated look on Drex, and follows it with on aimed a Degran, as the source of all her woes. &quot;Ethran--&quot; She even sounds irritated. &quot;''No'', I'm not sick. I just don't have the taste for drinks anymore, or the smell. It's nauseating.&quot; And yet, here she is, sitting in a chair at Snowasis, looking out of place with her perfectly pressed clothing and nicely-coiffed hair. &quot;I can only count myself lucky that I don't lose my lunch at the mention of it,&quot; she says, frowning. It's all Drex's fault, obviously.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Feet,&quot; Drex hastily says. &quot;Big ''feet''. Apparently it's a thing that runs in families down there. Anyway...&quot; his segue isn't exactly smooth, &quot;Uh, should we go, then?&quot; He stands, glancing, too, at Degran, and just as hastily deciding he can abandon his friend to the woes of a significant tab, given all his admirers as he nears the end of the pitcher.<br /> <br /> &quot;They have big feet?&quot; Farideh asks in an incredulous tone of voice, brows furrowing over questioning hazel eyes. &quot;What on Pern would you want with big feet, that's just--&quot; She closes her eyes, exhales, and gives her head a shake. &quot;We should. Will he be--&quot; Except she's already giving Degran one of those 'I'm writing you off' type of looks, that ends with an expectant glance at Drex. &quot;I'm paying for all of this, aren't I?&quot; It's less of a question than one might expect.<br /> <br /> &quot;What can I say, Degran has a uh, ''liking'' for women with... big feet.&quot; What a convenient scapegoat is Drex's fellow sailor, all unawares as Drex goes to stand. With a guilt-less grin, he confesses, &quot;Aint going to if we leave now.&quot;<br /> <br /> Degran, the big feet loving alcoholic sailor, gets another lingering stare from the goldrider. &quot;Won't he be mad?&quot; Farideh looks up at Drex, eyebrows lifting, and rises shortly after, her movements awkward despite her lack of a baby bump as of yet. &quot;He's almost as irritating as you are,&quot; she sighs, but turns away from the table.<br /> <br /> &quot;Aye,&quot; Drex allows, with a grin. &quot;Real mad. But he'll get over it.&quot; He slides an arm around Farideh's shoulders with the intent of drawing her close, the gesture a little bit protective as he seeks to steer them away from the table. &quot;''Almost'',&quot; the sailor echoes with a knowing grin, leaning in to murmur to her, &quot;But you got the prize catch of the ship, ''darling''.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I hope you're right. I don't look forward to getting woken up because an irate sailor won't pay his tab, or worse, if he shows up at the ''weyr'',&quot; Farideh sounds, half apathetic and half completely annoyed, already. She nestles easily into his embrace, familiarly, but the look she slides him isn't all sweetness. &quot;Oh? You don't think I would have fared better with the captain?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Aint the first time that's happened,&quot; her weyrmate acknowledges with a non-apologetic grin. &quot;But if he does, I'll bounce him out of there before he can disturb you. Promise.&quot; Drex shoulders aside a larger man, making way for them to reach the exit. &quot;I know you would've,&quot; the sailor replies to that last, with an audible note of jealousy.<br /> <br /> It speaks volumes that Farideh leaves her concerns about Degran at ''that'', at Drex's promise to take care of the situation if it evolves beyond a harmless drinking game in the weyr's bar. She bumps her shoulder into him at the latter, shooting him an amused smile. &quot;I have to disagree,&quot; she challenges, though her mood remains light, as Drex leads her away from the chatter and noise of Snowasis for the soft, distant, rumbles of thunder and light snowfall in the bowl on their way to their weyr.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85246 2016-04-10T12:22:17Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman, generous of spirit'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Gave of her dresses and slippers'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Truth is her heart wasn't in it'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.'''&quot;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That'' elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman came a'demanding'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''To the harper who likes grandstanding'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''They talked for a while'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''And each other did rile'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''And she left him with naught but her profile!'''&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85245 2016-04-10T12:21:35Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman, generous of spirit'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Gave of her dresses and slippers'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Truth is her heart wasn't in it'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.'''&quot;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That's elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman came a'demanding'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''To the harper who likes grandstanding'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''They talked for a while'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''And each other did rile'''&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''And she left him with naught but her profile!'''&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85244 2016-04-10T12:20:12Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman, generous of spirit&lt;br&gt;<br /> Gave of her dresses and slippers&lt;br&gt;<br /> Truth is her heart wasn't in it&lt;br&gt;<br /> Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.'''&quot;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That's elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;'''The weyrwoman came a'demanding&lt;br&gt;<br /> To the harper who likes grandstanding&lt;br&gt;<br /> They talked for a while&lt;br&gt;<br /> And each other did rile&lt;br&gt;<br /> And she left him with naught but her profile!'''&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85243 2016-04-10T12:19:22Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman, generous of spirit&lt;br&gt;<br /> Gave of her dresses and slippers&lt;br&gt;<br /> Truth is her heart wasn't in it&lt;br&gt;<br /> Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.&quot;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That's elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding&lt;br&gt;<br /> To the harper who likes grandstanding&lt;br&gt;<br /> They talked for a while&lt;br&gt;<br /> And each other did rile&lt;br&gt;<br /> And she left him with naught but her profile!&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85242 2016-04-10T12:18:15Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman, generous of spirit<br /> Gave of her dresses and slippers<br /> Truth is her heart wasn't in it<br /> Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.&quot;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That's elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding<br /> To the harper who likes grandstanding<br /> They talked for a while<br /> And each other did rile<br /> And she left him with naught but her profile!&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Quint%27s_Free_Wagon_Rides&diff=85241 2016-04-10T12:17:29Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Quint |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~ |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=1 |month=7 |turn=...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint<br /> |what=Quint's wagon is broken, but he's giving free rides anyway~<br /> |where=Outside High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=1<br /> |month=7<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.04.08<br /> |quote=&quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding / To the harper who likes grandstanding..&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, Alysce, Tevrane<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh squint.png, Icon quint airquotes.jpg,<br /> |log=&gt;--------------------------------------&lt; 1D 7M 40T I10, summer afternoon &gt;---&lt;<br /> <br /> It's a pleasantly warm day, the sort that encourages outdoor activities of all sorts of varieties. Some distance outside of the Weyr, perhaps an hour's walk, the road is home to an odd sight: a wagon, apparently laden with all sorts of goods, but no animal in sight with which to pull it. Lounging on the driver's seat is a figure in harper blue, looking comfortable despite the heated air. Maybe he's taking a rest after the pulling the wagon thusfar?<br /> <br /> Unhitched wagons and goldriders taking random strolls away from the Weyr are totally normal; nothing weird to see here. Casually dressed, hair swept back, cheeks pink perhaps from sun, Farideh comes up the same road from the opposite direction, with no dragon in sight. No dragons aside from the usual ones soaring up high in the sky, through the cloud coverage. It's easy to see when she takes note of the oddity there in the road, as her brow dips and her mouth forms an unpleasant frown. &quot;Good afternoon,&quot; she greets the harper once she comes to a stop some paces away, hands settling determinedly on her waist. This close up, it might be more evident that she's been out for a run-turned-cool-down.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ma'am,&quot; comes the indolent response from the harper, as he regards the approaching woman from his not-so-lofty perch on the driver's seat. Straightening slightly, Quint reaches to tug at his tunic. &quot;You aren't a bandit, are you? Raider? Up-to-no-good-er?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It depends,&quot; Farideh says, eyeing the blue-clad man suspiciously, &quot;what you've got in your wagon and where it's headed. I don't make it a habit of stealing my own Weyr's tithes, but I'm not opposed to skimming off someone else's.&quot; Her level tone makes it hard to distinguish if she's joking or.. serious. Expression isn't helping either.<br /> <br /> And neither is Quint's demeanor clear on where he lands with his response: &quot;You would take another's possessions? My, my, weyrwoman. Remind me not to leave a plate of sweets unattended around you,&quot; there's a hint of amusement to the harper's voice, all the same.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''surprised'' by that?&quot; Farideh is still giving him the slanted, I'm-not-sure-what-you're-doing-here look, between questions and answers. &quot;I ''do'' hope it's nothing for High Reaches,&quot; rings a little less.. unsure.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'd have thought you'd want to espouse the epitome of weyrwomanship, by being generous of nature and possessions both. No?&quot; Quint's head tips to one side, lips twitching briefly. His head half turns, as if only just now remembering the wagon which he guards so assiduously. &quot;Well, some -- if people choose to purchase it. Though until marks change by hands it's by rights most definitely not High Reaches'.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I will happily loan you one of my gather dresses or a pair of slippers if it's what weyrwomen ''do''. Being generous of ''nature and possession'',&quot; is the goldrider's helpful suggestion. Kindness personified, one might say! Farideh doesn't even smile, though she's no doubt relishing her own sassy comebacks. &quot;No?&quot; She's curious at his denial, her eyes roving over the wagon in a more thorough inspection. &quot;And, escorted by a harper? Is it a pile of instruments?&quot; and yes, that's dismay in her voice.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm sure my apprentice would appreciate your generosity. I could come up with a song in reward, yes?&quot; The harper lifts the guitar that was resting on the seat beside him, strumming a jaunty tune, as he sings:<br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman, generous of spirit<br /> Gave of her dresses and slippers<br /> Truth is her heart wasn't in it<br /> Preferring to watch for her ship... ers.&quot;<br /> <br /> A beat passes, and the harper grimaces. &quot;Mm, no, needs some work.&quot;<br /> <br /> Lips part and then purse together, holding back a stream of words until he's finished playing his impromptu ballad to her (lack of) generosity. &quot;That's a terrible song,&quot; Farideh asserts, eyes narrowing in re-dawning suspicious. &quot;I don't watch for ships. It's odd that you ''think'' that I do.&quot; She's boldly denying what everyone knows to be true, and tossing her ponytail petulantly, too. &quot;None of that answers why you're sitting in a wagon without a runner or burden beast to pull it.&quot;<br /> <br /> Rather than being offended, the harper chuckles at her assertion. &quot;Isn't it though? Good thing you and I are the only ones to hear it.&quot; With a cluck of his tongue, Quint gives another strum of the guitar, though this time it isn't a prelude to any additional ditty. &quot;No? Mm, well. We've already agreed it's a terrible song; may as well not decontruct the contents of something so ''clearly'' false.&quot; He leans forward, grinning, at her latter question. &quot;No,&quot; he agrees, &quot;No, it doesn't. Would you like to sit?&quot; he offers, waving to the now empty space on the bench next to him. I parked it deliberately in a shady spot.&quot;<br /> <br /> The whole thing is highly suspect, and the shifting faces of the weyrwoman are proof of her suspicions. &quot;You park a wagon on the road outside of the Weyr. You let your animals run free, or you lost them somehow. You bring your gitar with you to serenade random passerbys with. Are you ''drunk''? This early in the day?&quot; Farideh queries, her gaze sliding from harper to empty seat. &quot;It's quite odd, and I do wonder what our mutual friend Jocelyn would say about your-- habits.&quot; But, a seat is a seat, even a seat next to a crazy guy.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, indeed, I have not partaken of alcohol since two holdings ago.&quot; Quint is serious in that, bemused but also tolerant of Farideh's suspicious nature. &quot;Perception is a strange thing, weyrwoman. As is assumptions. The truth is, honestly, quite innocuous, and will put to rest all your concerns, and yet your energy in defense of your Weyr is engaging and welcome.&quot; Does this mean he ''won't'' share? He doesn't elucidate, instead shifting the instrument over to offer a hand to Farideh. &quot;I can't imagine your fellow weyrwoman has much if at all to say about ''my'' habits, weyrwoman.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I have not yet met a harper quite as annoying,&quot; Farideh informs him, whilst taking his hand, whilst taking that proffered seat. &quot;No? Does she still think you should be marooned on an island? Head stuck on a spike out on the star stones? I had quite hoped you two had moved past your tiresome quarrel by now,&quot; she sighs, looking further down the road before turning her head to stare at him suspiciously, up close now! &quot;Are you going to tell me why you're here? ''We'', now?&quot;<br /> <br /> And now, Quint's looking surprised. &quot;Then, my lady, you must not have met very many harpers. Or I'm feeling especially frisky -- or you especially sensitive,&quot; he supposes, thoughtful gaze distant a moment as his hand resettles against his guitar once Farideh's settled herself. &quot;I wouldn't know. Your fellow weyrwoman is taciturn at best, as surely you must know by now, having worked so closely with her.&quot; His head tilts, regarding the brunette beside him seriously. &quot;If I do, you must swear to secrecy.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Sensitive'', you say. Did no one at the hall ever tell you that's the worst thing you can call a woman? Besides fat.&quot; Farideh gives him a disappointed glance askance, but waves her hand dismissively about the matter with Jocelyn. It's much more her speed to lean over, expectantly, one step away from salivating at the promise of the secret he's withholding. &quot;I won't tell a single sole. Roszadyth might listen in, but she's not the chatty sort. ''What'' is it?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yet you seem to have taken it in stride, weyrwoman,&quot; Quint points out, easily. &quot;It's good to know you aren't so thin-skinned as to react to mere words.&quot; When she leans in, the harper grins, his demeanor changing in small, subtle ways -- a slight straightening of shoulders; a deepening of voice into a storytelling cadence; a glimmer of eyes as he judges the effect of his story on the audience. &quot;I guard wares from Nidren's hold, just north of Keogh. Most of it's nothing big, really -- but it's accompanied by a pretty young woman looking to find herself a husband, and some of the items, mm -- let's say they ''incentivize'' a match. I believe she's going to stay here a couple of days before heading on to High Reaches Hold. In any case, earlier today one of the wagon's wheels broke, so I sent the girl, her overprotective cousin, and my apprentice on ahead to find some assistance.&quot; He gives a long sigh. &quot;I fear, one being flighty, one far mistaken about their purpose and the third easily distracted,&quot; he doesn't say ''which'' is which, &quot;I may well be spending the night here.&quot; His guitar sounds a disconsolate note, responding to the brush of his fingers across the strings.<br /> <br /> <br /> &quot;Only because I've been called worse,&quot; Farideh tells him, matter-of-factly, like it's not an unfortunate thing to be throwing around. She at least seems enthralled when he starts to unravel this mystery she's happened upon, but little by little-- or, more appropriately, at ''find herself a husband'' and ''heading on to High Reaches Hold''-- her shoulders droop and her face lacks interest. &quot;North of Keogh? Here I thought another holder was sending his tithes without paying proper respects to Lady Tevrane. Why do ''you'' have to sit out here all night, caterwauling into the wind? It is ''her'' wares? Not yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint tilts his head at that, regarding the weyrwoman silently for a moment. &quot;And if it had been, what would you have done? Claimed the wares from the hands of the harper and delivered it triumphantly to Tevrane, for the purposes of goodwill?&quot; He strums another note on the guitar, lighter this time, at her latter words. &quot;Their father allowed Alysce and I to stay at their house; gave up their beds, their food, their company. What is it to give up a pleasant afternoon in the shade in return?&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh draws back to give him another one of her disdainful stares, full on narrowed up and tight lips to go with an aggravated tone of voice. &quot;We had to do what needed to be done. I would, now, seek counsel of the Weyrwoman. It is her decision whether those tithes be turned away or brought up to the Weyr,&quot; has an edge to it, however politic. Not all of the tension seeps away at her words, but she drags her eyes away from him to look down the road-- the long, deserted road. &quot;You never mentioned ''that'' part. I suppose it's the only decent thing to do.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ahh,&quot; Quint gives a wry twitch of lips. &quot;It's handy, isn't it, being able to hand the decision off to someone else to make. To never have to consider the ''people'' involved, only the politics of it.&quot; He waits a beat, but persists, curious: &quot;What would ''you'' have done, if you were still acting?&quot; He gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders at the latter. &quot;It was inconsequential. Even had her family not given us shelter, I would have done so.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Quite,&quot; comes quickly, and after a petulant sigh, &quot;I would have chased him back to whatever forsaken hovel he came from. I can appreciate their situation, truly, but to shove their problems at ''us'', to solve-- well, there's enough to do without worrying about losing more candidates to a fickle lady or half our tithes.&quot; Farideh side glances at Quint. &quot;Why? It's not your problem. You're only a harper. Say some thieves come running down the road to get their fill. What are you going to do? Strike them with your ''gitar''?&quot; Obviously, she's in disbelief.<br /> <br /> &quot;It doesn't actually sound to me like you ''do'' appreciate their situation, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper says in a bland tone. &quot;That ''hovel'' has nice stock of llamas that supplies wool for your blankets, your coats, your woolens that get the Weyr through every winter.&quot; Quint strums some more on his guitar, turning the chords dramatic as if in response to her disbeliving words. &quot;Clearly, I plan to wile them with my charm, invite them to sit beside me, and use a story to infuriate and distract them.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine'', if it fits more in line with your story that I don't, then I don't.&quot; By this point, it's obvious the weyrwoman's frustration level is quickly reaching its peak, but she's at least not throwing items off the wagon, or even lighting it on fire, so let's count it as a win. &quot;Your ''charm'' as yet to appear, all the same, sir,&quot; Farideh returns, her smile not even remotely amused. &quot;They may yet run for their lives when you start.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;True,&quot; those latter words evince a genuine laugh from the harper, posture at ease as he continues to strum on the guitar. After a beat: &quot;You seem as if you could outpace me, so I wouldn't even attempt to chase.&quot; Quint's fingers move across the strings, now sounding a tune that's like as not familiar -- a bawdy sea song. &quot;Now that your interrogation is done with, may I ask -- do you often take a constitutional by yourself far outside the Weyr?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;They ''say'' riders are strong, don't they? You non-riders.&quot; ''That's elicits amusement in her words, self-deprecating as it is. &quot;I do sometimes. Running ''just'' in the bowl gets a lot of stares, and the scenery is nicer outside. Sometimes, I have a lot of thinking to do, and that leads me farther afield. Roszadyth can always meet me if I don't feel like going back by foot.&quot; Farideh's lift to the sky unprovoked, before they return to the man on the wagon seat at her side. &quot;Don't you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they?&quot; Quint responds with a lilting query of his own, head tilted. &quot;Mm.&quot; He shakes his head, slowly. &quot;That must be... uncomfortable. Being ''watched''. In ''our'' line of work it is what we ''want'', what we ''expect''.&quot; After a beat of silence, &quot;Do you get used to it?&quot; More strumming; the harper's gaze doesn't follow the rider's to the sky, instead concentrating on the lilting tune. Without looking over, he asks: &quot;Don't I what, weyrwoman?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How am I supposed to know?&quot; Farideh reacts, after a lengthy pause, her countenance once more bearing signs of annoyance. &quot;I haven't ''yet'', but Irianke seems less focused on it. With time, with ''experience'',&quot; this last with a grimace. &quot;It's not exactly the ''same'' you know, though I've seen a harper or two get undressed by someone's eyes. Really.&quot; Really! She gives him another annoyed flick of her eyes and moves to stand. &quot;Run. Exercise. Do anything ''other'' than sit around in wagons or harass goldriders?&quot;<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's initial reaction is taken in stride by Quint, not even his strumming altering, providing filler for the silence in between the goldrider's words. &quot;Not the same, no. Though one could argue convincingly that -- the dragon aside -- there are similarities. We are recognized wherever we go,&quot; he glances down at his harper blue tunic, with a wry smile, &quot;And there are expectations that come along with our profession. It is rare that I get to attend, and enjoy, gather or event without the expectation of performance, much as,&quot; he gestures briefly, &quot;I am sure is expected of you, if in more the political side of things. People frequently seek out a harper's ear for advice, for sympathy, or just for someone to listen to. I am sure you have had much of the same demands placed on you.&quot; When she stands, the music fades as he does, too. &quot;Of course, weyrwoman. I spent nearly six weeks walking the roads of the region. When I am in the Weyr I enjoy a good run, if that is, indeed, an invitation to harass you on the move...?&quot; the amusement in his expression suggests that he rather thinks it isn't.<br /> <br /> Similarities, trivialities, all swept under the rug as she adjusts her tunic prior to setting foot back on the road. &quot;You need not worry yourself in the future. I will assuredly ''not'' seek you out for performance at any event. I'm much too accompanied to the free show,&quot; holds just a tiniest bit of dryness, there. &quot;No-- ''no''. I'll have to tell my weyrmate you're following me and then none of us will get any sleep forever more. It was entertaining, but there are still thoughts and ideas to work through. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy in my absence?&quot; And finally, the quirk of a smile, thrown over her shoulder before she starts off at a light jog, her ponytail bounces with each step.<br /> <br /> &quot;I imagine I'll manage, weyrwoman,&quot; the harper reassures her, resuming his seat once the goldrider's stepped down. Quint's way of keeping himself amused is clear as the strumming notes of his guitar start up again. Moments later, as she's starting her jog, his voice drifts out: <br /> <br /> &quot;The weyrwoman came a'demanding<br /> To the harper who likes grandstanding<br /> They talked for a while<br /> And each other did rile<br /> And she left him with naught but her profile!&quot;<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Mothers&diff=85234 2016-03-31T01:25:45Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Quinlys |what=Farideh visits Quinlys (belatedly) and her daughter. |where=Quinlys' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=2 |month=6 |tur...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quinlys<br /> |what=Farideh visits Quinlys (belatedly) and her daughter.<br /> |where=Quinlys' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=2<br /> |month=6<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.03.30<br /> |quote=Dear queens: stay on the ground, kthnx.<br /> |mentions=Lyrisa, Ethran, Drex, K'del, Irianke, C'ris<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh sweet.png, Icon quinlys tired.jpg,<br /> |log=With no more weyrlings to train, and no ''new'' weyrlings on the horizon, Quinlys has a relatively enviable position as far as new mothers go: her duties are light and easily shifted around to suit the whims and vagaries of a newborn. Of which there are, predictably, ''many''. None of this means that the bluerider is doing well, mind: sure, she has her nearly-two-month-old at home with her today, rather than handed off to the nannies, and sure Lyrisa is sleeping, but Quinlys rather seems to be 'enjoying' the fine summer afternoon by, well, staring at the wall in sleeplessly moody disarray (which rather matches the mess that is the weyr itself). Nonetheless, as Olveraeth is happy to relate to anyone who asks, visitors are ''welcome''.<br /> <br /> And visitors do come calling, though in Roszadyth's case it's with a politely expressed desire to offer congratulations in radiant tones. Once clearance has been given -- oh, please, Olveraeth, great Olveraeth -- the gold lands on the ledge with surprising grace and lets down one leather-and-lawn-bedecked goldrider. &quot;Quinlys,&quot; is Farideh's cheerful greeting, ringing out well before she's seen the bluerider, but not before she's started to remove her gloves. &quot;Oh-- hello? Are you feeling well? Should I come back another time?&quot; comes once she's ''seen'' Quinlys and slowed her steps, a question lingering in her hazel eyes.<br /> <br /> Olveraeth's naturally pleased by Roszadyth: by her presence, and yes, by her graciousness too. He's proud of his rider's offspring, that much is clear in the shooting stars of his thoughts, even if they're somewhat dimmed by his rider's so-obvious exhaustion. Clearly, he must have warned Quinlys of her incoming visitor, because she stirs from her position without too much surprise, though it largely seems to be to turn tired eyes upon the goldrider, her smile more rueful and apologetic than pleased. &quot;No, no, I'm fine. Hello. Tired-- that's all. Come in. Sit...&quot; If she can find somewhere ''to'' sit.<br /> <br /> ''Sit'' elicits a hike of brows and a brief glance around the weyr, in all of its entirety. &quot;I'm fine standing for now. How are ''you'' faring? I've been meaning to come, but with Irianke's return,&quot; sort of fades off into a self-deprecating smile. &quot;And C'ris? I haven't had time to catch up with him ''either''. You both must be having such a time.&quot; Farideh quits talking long enough to let the bluerider reply, but she's looking all around again; possibly, probably, for the baby in question. Why else do people visit new mothers?<br /> <br /> Quinlys' sigh acknowledges the state of the weyr, as does the sweep of her gaze, but she's clearly too tired-- or too lacking in caring-- to offer an excuse, however pitiful. Instead, she gestures towards the basket where Lyrisa is sleeping. &quot;If you wake her up,&quot; she warns, voice pitched low, &quot;I'll ''probably'' cry. But... no, we're fine. We're all fine. Eventually I'll give up pretending I'm a decent mother and just hand her over to the nannies whatever anyone says, but we're ''fine''. How's it feel, having Irianke back?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;If,&quot; Farideh acknowledges, with a mischievous smile, &quot;I wake her up, I'll send our nanny up and you can get some sleep. I might, ''anyway''.&quot; Not skipping a beat, she makes her way to the basket where the newborn sleeps. &quot;I ''think'' I remember when Ethran was this tiny,&quot; she says, leaning down to have a closer look at Quinlys' baby. &quot;Is that what it means to be a decent mother? Sacrificing your faculties to a screaming, crying little thing?&quot; She's museful, and half amused, when she says it, but then she's wrinkling her nose and straightening. &quot;I don't miss playing her role, honestly. I'm much happier just being-- a support person, a lesser role?&quot;<br /> <br /> Quinlys lets out a little breath, almost as if she's wistfully considering the prospect of a nanny-- or maybe just a nap. &quot;Both grandmothers are helping out, of course, but... I feel like I'm always doing things wrong. Or I'm supposed to feel differently. Or I'm... I mean, I ''love'' her.&quot; That's plainly genuine, given the way her eyes following Farideh, seeking out the baby. Without pausing, she slides past that to say, &quot;You luck-- ''like'', I mean, that there's someone between you and the big decisions.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Those'',&quot; Farideh answers, head canted to the side, &quot;are thoughts we can't have in our lifestyle. Not really. I suppose if we were regular holder women, married and tending our own children, we could sit around and ruminate about how best to rear, how much time they should sleep-- the things I hear the nannies bicker about. I gave up ''long'' ago being a ''good'' mother. I'm just-- Ethran's mother. I don't know if that's good enough, but it has to be, doesn't it? I don't have the ''time''-- &quot; Not that she's ever seemed particularly maternal, but who knows. She walks back to where Quinlys sits, eyeing the clutter accumulated. &quot;Yes. I've never ''wanted'' to make the big decisions, if you recall. It's not something I ''enjoy''-- leading so many people around on a leash. As if they'd even know how to ''behave''.&quot; And, she's rolling her eyes.<br /> <br /> The slump of Quinlys' shoulders, now, seems to be in relief, as if Farideh is giving her ''exactly'' the information she needs to at least temporarily stop beating herself up. &quot;It ''has'' to be,&quot; she agrees. &quot;And... that's why we have nannies. Right? It doesn't mean we don't care.&quot; The bluerider pauses, scrubbing at her eyes as she lets her gaze slip away from the baby again, drawing her attention back towards the goldrider. &quot;Mmm. Whereas I've always liked it. But that's not a bad thing. We all... different strengths.&quot;<br /> <br /> The nearest piece of furniture has something on it that Farideh brushes off, so she can perch there for the time being. &quot;I have to think that's why they created the nurseries in the first place. Our dragons take up our time first, of course. Duties. Responsibilities. Living. And then there's our children.&quot; She pauses to purse her lips, and gives her head a gentle shake. &quot;I love Ethran. I want the best for him. I want him to be happy. I know I couldn't give him that, with Roszadyth, and the Weyr, and everything in between. The nannies are the next best thing-- and he'll be raised with all the other Weyr children, like yours. They're ''basically'' going to be siblings,&quot; comes, not without a curl of her lips. &quot;I don't know how you do it. ''Especially'' with weyrlings-- they make it a ''point'' not to listen.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quinlys' expression is a little more along the lines of 'defiant' rather than 'apologetic' as she watches Farideh brush things off the furniture; too bad, so sad. &quot;Siblings,&quot; she repeats-- and then laughs. &quot;There's a thought. 'Honestly, I don't need to have any more; she's already GOT a nursery full of siblings'. Have people started asking you when you'll have a second?&quot; It's curious, enough so that she doesn't make any comment on weyrlings, or how-- or ''why''-- she does it.<br /> <br /> &quot;Pre-cisely,&quot; Farideh says, laughter brimming in her words. &quot;A second? No-- no no. I don't think anyone would wish that on me ''now''-- not before, for sure. There's something about being in charge of a whole Weyr full of dragons that makes people assume your plate is full-- and ''now'', I guess, maybe they'd expect it.&quot; She sighs. She rolls her eyes. She looks uncomfortable at the thought! &quot;I don't think I want another. I wouldn't want one ''now'', anyway. When I'm older? I'll think about it again, but for now Ethran is enough. What about ''you''?&quot;<br /> <br /> Poor Farideh. Quinlys, at least, looks sympathetic. &quot;Oh, it's too soon for it to be a thing, for me, except... people keep saying 'it'll be easier with your second' and-- well, ''fuck that'', right?&quot; Her eyes roll, which is at least a good sign of animation: not dead yet! &quot;It's not like I planned Lyri. I suspect... no, I'm sure C'ris would like more. But.&quot; ''But''.<br /> <br /> &quot;What gets easier? Managing your time?&quot; This time the goldrider's voice is dry, and there's an undercurrent of irritation; not with the bluerider, but with whoever is telling her about seconds. &quot;But? C'ris-- I think he'd be the type to have plenty, like K'del. Watch out for yourself, Quinlys. Luckily, Drex hasn't mentioned it, and if he did--&quot; At that, she stands, grabbing for her gloves again. &quot;I'm glad you're doing well and ''she's'' as beautiful as her mother, of course.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quinlys' snort is scoffing, and plainly approves of Farideh's irritation. Of C'ris, she says nothing else. Instead, she rises, stretching as if she hasn't moved properly all day (which perhaps she hasn't). &quot;Thank you, Farideh,&quot; is quiet, but genuine. &quot;For the compliment, and for the reassurance. I... look after yourself. Visit anytime.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It's gotten easier, over time,&quot; Farideh does say, as she turns towards the exit and just as quickly glances back at the other woman. There's a dip of her chin and smile. &quot;I'd say I'd hope you'd get back to work and your former self ''soon'', but we both know what that'd mean, so for now, you do the same.&quot; And, laughing, she exits back to the ledge and her dragon.<br /> <br /> The bluerider's laugh follows Farideh back to the ledge, but otherwise, she has no further comment. Dear queens: stay on the ground, kthnx.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Ethran%27s_Future&diff=85228 2016-03-21T00:47:39Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Drex, Ethran |what=Ethran's parents don't see eye-to-eye about his future. |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches We...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Drex, Ethran<br /> |what=Ethran's parents don't see eye-to-eye about his future.<br /> |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=25<br /> |month=4<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.03.19<br /> |quote=&quot;What if ''I'' don't want him to stand?&quot;<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh mother.png, Icon drex youknownothing.jpg,<br /> |log=The scene inside High Reaches' youngest goldrider's weyr is domestic in spite of the rain falling lightly on the ledge outside: a cheery hearth warms the outer room, and sitting on the rug is an almost-turn-old Ethran, merrily chewing and subsequently slobbering on a wooden block, while Farideh tries to entice him with other toys. &quot;Wouldn't it be more ''fun'' to ''play'' with them instead of ''eat'' them?&quot; she suggests, brightly, from where she sits cross-legged in a puddle of her own skirts. She attempts to take back the block from him, but gives up when he starts to fuss. &quot;Fine. ''Fine''. Eat it,&quot; she laments, tossing aside the dragon figurine she was trying to lure him with. Lady annoying looks on, from a safe distance under the couch, tail flicking.<br /> <br /> A rather drenched looking Drex enters, dripping water all over the floor. He does have mindfulness to shake his coat out at the entrance and hang it on the hooks there, although given the rest of him is completely drenched, it might be a somewhat limited gesture. His drenched nature doesn't really appear to entice Lady Annoying any further, and so it's towards Farideh that the erstwhile sailor heads, bending to give her a brief kiss, before making to flop onto the floor next to Ethran with an exhausted, exaggerated exhale.<br /> <br /> Farideh gives a baleful glance to the trails of ''water'' that her weyrmate leaves on his way in, and when he settles himself with that dramatic gesture, she eyes him sidelong. &quot;Why the heavy sigh? Did something happen?&quot; she asks, innocently enough, but lends herself towards gathering the blocks that Ethran has tossed around. Ethran, drops the blocks and makes happy sounds at Drex, who he precedes to try to ''climb'', using all of his chubby not-quite-toddler strength.<br /> <br /> &quot;Nothing,&quot; Drex lies, easily, although the spring rains and otherwise increasingly warm weather is a likely precursor to his typical restless wish to be out on the seas. Drex's shirt, at least, makes for a relatively dry handhold, and after a short time watching his son's attempts, reaches over to lift Ethran up, holding him at arms length above him, ''zooming'' him around. &quot;Our kid's definitely going to be an avian,&quot; and certainly not a ''dragon''. &quot;Although,&quot; he muses, regarding Ethran, &quot;You're going to have to make your ears grow even longer for wings.&quot;<br /> <br /> When the blocks are stacked in a symmetrical square of blocks-on-top-of-blocks, Farideh folds her hands in her lap and regards the two of them, expression placid. &quot;Nothing sounds a lot like something,&quot; she sing-songs, and continues to watch Drex's ''zooming'' uneasily; however much she lacks in actual maternal skills, she seems to have the worrisome mom look down. &quot;Why would he needs wings? Dragons have wings. Roszadyth can be his wings until he finds a dragon of his own, of course.&quot; ''Of course''-- not treading dangerous waters or anything.<br /> <br /> The aeroplane style theatrics cease, abrupt, much to Ethran's dismay, and after he squirms a bit, Drex sets the boy down on his chest. He looks like he's ''trying'' to be even, though there's a set to his jaw and a timbre of annoyance in his voice that he's just not that good enough to conceal: &quot;Why does he ''have'' to find a dragon of his own? Do you think he's not ''whole'' without one?&quot; Dangerous ground, indeed!<br /> <br /> &quot;I never said that he ''has'' to.&quot; Annoyance is met with defiance, mulishness seeping into her expression in a non-subtle way. &quot;I would be perfectly proud of him whatever he chooses-- perhaps he'll show interest in the crafts-- but he lives here. It seems reasonable to assume he'll Stand, at some point in his life.&quot; Farideh reaches out to tug on Ethran's tiny, wiggly toes, and then slants Drex another stubborn look. &quot;Dragons don't find everyone who wants one, either, but if he's going to have wings, it makes sense that they be dragon wings.&quot;<br /> <br /> Ethran's oblivious to the fight brewing between his parents, wiggling around on his dad's chest while his mother tries to catch his toes. Farideh's look is met with a similarly stubborn one from Drex. &quot;You said ''until'', not ''if'', like it's sure to happen. What if ''I'' don't want him to stand?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Why would you have any say in the matter? ''When'',&quot; ahem, &quot;Ethran is ready to stand, it's his choice, and not yours. Why would I stop him from doing that? Because you have a grudge against dragons? I don't know how you even ''sleep'' at night, knowing Roszadyth is in the ''next room'',&quot; Farideh says, rolling her eyes and bracing palms on the floor as she prepares to stand.<br /> <br /> &quot;Aye, it's his choice,&quot; Drex says, gruffly, turning Ethran so he's seated on his chest, facing Farideh with those guileless, innocent eyes. &quot;And when he's spent a few summers on the sea, he'll understand it aint like all those harpers tell it, about how amazing it all is, and he'll decide he ''won't'' want to.&quot; Drex takes a breath, turning to gaze at Farideh as she starts to stand. &quot;Do you ''want'' him to have to deal with all the dross ''you'' deal with? Being gutted when he's forced to sleep with someone he doesn't want? When he's stabbed just because he has a dragon? When he realizes some girl he loves will never settle for being second?&quot;<br /> <br /> Luckily for them all, Farideh makes it to her feet before Drex drops those truth bombs. &quot;You're not taking him on a ''ship'',&quot; she tells him, simply. &quot;Children don't belong on ships. You've had ''mutiny'' on your ship, before. One of those heathens could get it in their heads to hold him for ransom, so ''no''-- no, he won't be going on any ships until-- well, unless he's older, but by then he'll have a craft or a dragon.&quot; She seems pleased by that, until she's not, her mouth tightening. &quot;Some things are unpleasant, but they are not without purpose. What are you even trying to say?&quot; Now, the glare.<br /> <br /> &quot;''I'' was on a ship as a child. I turned out fine,&quot; Drex says, huffily. He totally hasn't got any hang ups or anything, either. &quot;Aint right that he only learns the ''Weyr'' way. He ought to learn the sailor way, too. He ought to have the choice. There's life outside the Weyr or a Craft.&quot; As Ethran tries to wiggle off Drex's chest after Farideh, his dad relents and lifts him to the ground, so that he can crawl towards her instead. Drex sits up, folding arms across his chest, staring at Ethran with a fixed sort of frown.<br /> <br /> &quot;What if he hates the sea? When he's older, if he wants to go, then he can make that decision for himself. Here, he can get an education, and make friends, and have a ''home'' that doesn't float away or get-- destroyed in a storm.&quot; Farideh's hands have made their way to her waist, in typical akimbo pose. &quot;But if he doesn't want to go, and dreams of dragons, that's fine too. You're being ridiculous,&quot; she sighs, glancing down as Ethran pulls himself up on her skirts and starts babbling away. &quot;There's nothing wrong with being a dragonrider. ''Wanting'' to be a dragonrider-- and it's not as terrible as you say.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;So it's okay to force him live and breathe dragons for his entire life and you call that giving him a choice about what he wants?&quot; Drex uncrosses his hands, pushing to his feet, glowering now. &quot;How many children at the Weyr actually choose not to stand? Aint a choice when it's the only one offered them and they've been told all their lives about how amazing it is. You,&quot; he stabs a finger in Farideh's direction, &quot;Can be the one to comfort him when he doesn't impress, explain to him the fickleness of dragons and their attentions. ''I'm'' going to go back to my uneducated, friendless, terrible home that you hate so much.&quot; He turns to stalk towards the entrance, grabbing at his still damp coat and shoving arms into it.<br /> <br /> &quot;Plenty of children don't stand! We don't ''force'' them to, that's just ludicrous.&quot; Tempers flaring now, there's no reason to hide the angry set of her jaw or the continued glare. &quot;Don't pretend like you weren't looking for an excuse to leave anyhow,&quot; Farideh shoots back, and where ''she'' might whirl away, there's a tiny human hanging onto her skirts, so instead she picks Ethran up and marches in the opposite direction. Ethran, at least, doesn't seem bothered by the discussion of his ill-formed future, as his squeals peal through the weyr.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Cheers!&diff=85220 2016-03-20T00:32:57Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=A'sran, N'rov |what=N'rov has an important job for A'sran. |where=Waystation, Southern Weyr |involves=Fort Weyr |day=27 |month=12 |turn=39 |IP=Interval |IP2=10 |gam...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=A'sran, N'rov<br /> |what=N'rov has an important job for A'sran.<br /> |where=Waystation, Southern Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr<br /> |day=27<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.02<br /> |quote=&quot;I'm all ears.&quot;<br /> |mentions=Dahlia, Tavish, Mabry, N'muir<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon a'sran farther.jpg, Icon n'rov drink.png,<br /> |log=Ordinarily, a sweep's well-punctuated by a stop at a waystation, like this one is; with weather as dreary and dismal as Fort's had of late, though, a waystation down South is looking better and better. This one doesn't seem too unused to random riders showing up, and it serves a fine savory pie to boot; N'rov's tipped back in his chair, coat and sweater and scarf all off, as he speculates A'sran's way. &quot;That ovine, I ''really'' think it climbed up his,&quot; beer. ''There's'' the beer, and smiles for both bronzeriders from the young man who serves it.<br /> <br /> Leczuth has given up his rigorous watch over the eggs to enjoy the everyday mundaneness of sweeps and the resulting perks. He watches the sky from his perch, and his rider, from his, studies N'rov, with a half-smile. &quot;Up his,&quot; A'sran mimics, quietly, but his eyes light up at sight of the drinks; his he handles with care, between his two hands. &quot;To.. finding the lucky lads, and lasses, for Taeliyth's eggs,&quot; he says, lifting his glass then -- and managing not to slosh the beer either.<br /> <br /> &quot;Not 'Leczuth's'?&quot; N'rov asks, amused, brow up and beer... down, shortly, a swallow's worth down his throat and the glass itself set down onto that table. Vhaeryth's high in that same sky, but gliding, copper-dark wingspan wide to soak up that sun.<br /> <br /> &quot;Leczuth is proud enough that I need not mention him every time I mention them.&quot; Amusement shines in A'sran's eyes behind the frothy rim of his glass. &quot;I think every dragon on the continent knows, by now,&quot; is dryer, less amused, but sufficiently good-natured.<br /> <br /> &quot;I ''see''.&quot; N'rov's gaze pauses on his wingmate; he sits up a fraction then, enough to twist for a better look at that back room where their server had scuttled away. A long moment later, he drops back. &quot;Not that much longer before the hatching, though I'm sure it'll feel like forever. Especially to those who already tried last time... Have they been hunting you down, yet? Did ''you'',&quot; there's a grin, &quot;when you were the one who Stood?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Some days feel longer than others,&quot; is A'sran's cryptic answer, and he does not appear immune to his own dry answers, his mouth breaking into a lazy grin. &quot;I have encountered a few, but not many. They may get more desperate to find me the closer they get to hatching. Me?&quot; He takes a swig from his glass and contemplates, blonde brows surging together. &quot;I do not think I hunted down N'muir at any point then. I might have ''after''. Commonalities and that.&quot;<br /> <br /> N'rov tips him a nod: 'and that.' &quot;Easier to hunt a man down if he's already hunted you for his wing,&quot; he supposes, the layered undertones obscure. He doesn't seek to pin A'sran down for ''more'' of an answer; perhaps he has his own secret decoder ring, or thinks he does. &quot;At least they're unlikely to climb up to your weyr to find you,&quot; has more humor to it. &quot;Let's just say I check on mine every now and again, to make sure it's still there... ''But'', looking further afield: what are your thoughts on our new-made Lord Boll?&quot;<br /> <br /> N'rov's candidness has A'sran laughing lightly and setting aside his drink. &quot;The big weyr is supposed to be a step up, not down,&quot; he replies. &quot;I will keep my sky level weyr. Thank you.&quot; And it might be that he set aside his glass to keep himself from toasting his own fortunes, in the face of the weyrleader's. &quot;Lord Boll? I have not heard much about him, not enough to form a solid opinion on his rule. His lady, Mabry, is more memorable from what I hear. What of you?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Working with him on those fields he wanted cleared went well. He seemed reliable, both in his scheduling and summations,&quot; though N'rov waits to clarify until after another swallow. &quot;What he said reflected what we found, you know? We both benefit.&quot; He considers A'sran. &quot;He also respected what we and our lifemates ''won't'' do.&quot;<br /> <br /> One blonde brow arches in response to weyrleader's words, and without the actual words, A'sran seems to encourage -- it could be the slight lean forward and the earnestness of his gaze -- N'rov to continue.<br /> <br /> &quot;'Appreciative'; that was the other thing. Regardless,&quot; N'rov spreads his hand wide, the one that's not holding his drink. &quot;It's an association we'd do well to foster. ''I'' visit; we've been breaking bread,&quot; so to speak, &quot;every month or so. But there's more that can be done. And it strikes me that the two of you have... compatible temperaments.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Lord Tavish? And me?&quot; That thought tickles A'sran, and simultaneously embarrasses him a little. Head slightly down, he levels a grin at the weyrleader. &quot;Appreciative and understanding?&quot;<br /> <br /> The smirk N'rov gives him is ''appreciative'' in its own way. &quot;Something like that,&quot; he says. &quot;I wouldn't lend you to Baliol, A'sran. As it is: I'd like someone trustworthy to... not be at a Lord's beck and call, certainly, but available now and again for transportation; lending more... ''consequence'' than even our watchrider might. Or, perhaps, more flexibility. Someone who can get along, who can form but not force a connection that will mean we're more than strangers on the mount... but whose dragon might remind him that we're not to be taken over, either. Someone who can pass the odd message, like you've been doing. Think you're up for that?&quot;<br /> <br /> By slow degrees A'sran regains his easy demeanor, as the ''task'' becomes more evident. &quot;I can do that. I can be at his..&quot; His smile stretches so his dimples show. &quot;..not beck and call. Do you have particular plans for South Boll?&quot; It not being Fort or Ruatha, or either of the Halls, even.<br /> <br /> &quot;Stability,&quot; said at the end of N'rov's own slow smile, his forward lean. &quot;'Positive relations.' More of that 'drink every time I say ''flexibility''.' Keeping a discreet eye on him, and contrariwise what might imperil his Holding, won't hurt. I'd like a better idea of what ''he'd'' like to see; something to talk about when the weather warms and people's spirits rise. If you wind up with ideas? I'm all ears.&quot;<br /> <br /> The blonde-haired bronzerider tries to keep his expression level for the weyrleader’s benefit. “I will keep my eyes, ears, and thoughts.. open,” A’sran responds, not curbing the half-smile that settles as he sits back and resettles in his chair. “I am honored you would think of me,” comes with a nod of head, a reach and lift of his drink not long ago forgotten. Cheers to new alliances?<br /> <br /> N'rov's is a swift grin. &quot;For good reasons,&quot; he says. All ''sorts'' of reasons. He raises his own mug, preparatory to digging back into that savory pie, Southern sun instead of Fort's chill slanting in through the waystation's wide window. Cheers, ''indeed''.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Post_Hatching_Feast_at_Fort&diff=85202 2016-03-12T23:52:32Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Quint, Dahlia, Jocelyn, Silva, T'gar, Jo, Olivya |what=A feast after Fort Weyr's hatching. |where=Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |involves=Fort Weyr, High Reache...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Quint, Dahlia, Jocelyn, Silva, T'gar, Jo, Olivya<br /> |what=A feast after Fort Weyr's hatching.<br /> |where=Living Cavern, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=18<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.27<br /> |mentions=K'del<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh bitchface.jpg,<br /> |log=Quint appears to weather Jocelyn's stare with an equanimity that suggests long practice. &quot;A dance or two with the correct people ought to put your obligations to rest,&quot; he tells the gold weyrling, as they make the trek across the snow-covered bowl, short enough that he flings his coat over one shoulder rather than tugging it all the way on. This makes it easy to shake out and hand off when they reach the caverns. &quot;A prop helps, with the obligations,&quot; he gestures towards the drinks table.<br /> <br /> With the hatching ending, Jo rises along with the others as she nods for M'ron and Kaitlin (and T'gar, presumably) to head out. Of course the wingsecond caught that lingering look from Farideh, but Kait was tugging her out of there before anything could be made from it. It takes the group awhile to make it to the feast - having likely taken the scenic route rather than the shortest one. M'ron and T'gar immediately make a beeline for the drinks table while Jo and Kait closes in on where the food resides.<br /> <br /> Once the obligation of the hatching is complete, and everyone has seen her smile and play nice with her weyrleader, it's the drink attendant that Farideh finds herself chatting to at the resulting feast. She's even got an ample glass of wine between her hands and a wine-induced smile on her face, if not a rosiness to her cheeks no doubt caused by the weather outside and not unnaturally fast drink consumption. &quot;Was that candidate your brother? I'm sure you're very proud,&quot; she can be heard to say by anyone within their vicinity, while the attendant continues chattering about the hatching and his brother's newfound lifemate.<br /> <br /> &quot;A word or two with the correct people, &quot; Jocelyn grouses in turn as she crosses the bowl with Quint, all too happy to relinquish her cloak once they're indoors. Dryly, &quot;''Your'' expertise at least makes the dancing tolerable.&quot; Was that a compliment? Her chin lifts in the direction of his gesture, enough so that she can give a dip of a nod in T'gar's direction as she spots him nearing the drinks. &quot;It can, &quot; agreeably enough, and if her shoulders roll back into an even stiffer set as she espies Farideh by the drink attendant, at least she doesn't promptly veto the idea, peering instead around the person in front of her as best she can. &quot;Is your sister here, do you suppose?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Then you ought to use that knowledge and try and snag a harper,&quot; Quint tells Jocelyn with a brief grin. The visiting harper's attention seems to shift between the local harpers providing music, the crowd in general (perhaps trying to search out someone specifically?), and his companion, though he keeps pace well enough for all that. When their line draws them close enough, he nods towards Farideh. &quot;I haven't seen her,&quot; he answers, leaning to peer past T'gar and M'ron and determine the length of the line.<br /> <br /> When Jocelyn and Quint draws near, T'gar nods back at the goldrider before he says, &quot;Jocelyn. Enjoyed the Hatching?&quot; M'ron's focused on filling his two glasses before moving off while the weyrling moves aside with his smaller glass to fill it and to give space for others to grab drinks. At the food table, at least Jo and Kaitlin manage to grab small plates themselves before M'ron arrives to Kait's side, and when the wingsecond spots Farideh she heads that way as the other is engaged in talk.<br /> <br /> &quot;Pass my congratulations to your brother when you see him.&quot; It's an ending to a new beginning, anyway. Farideh turns away from the tall attendant just in time to catch Quint's nod, and Jocelyn's presence beside the harper. Her returned nod is gracious, and in a flicker, there and gone, a slight smile; who it's for is anyone's guess, harper or goldrider. &quot;Jo,&quot; is much warmer and amused, when she turns once more, to find the wingsecond bearing down on her. &quot;What brings you all the way out ''here''?&quot; As though they don't both know. &quot;I thought I would be envious and want-- eggs again, but I don't miss them just yet. Not all of,&quot; with a hand flourish, &quot;this.&quot;<br /> <br /> Jocelyn warms slightly to Quint's grin, something that's apparently preferable to those practiced expressions of his. &quot;Perhaps, &quot; she replies, and then there's a brief study of T'gar. &quot;It's different, watching one with a dragon, &quot; she answers the bronzerider noncommittally, permitting herself a small thing of a smile after. &quot;Your friend and her lifemate must be proud.&quot;<br /> <br /> Quint relinquishes his escorting duties as T'gar and Jocelyn speak. With a wordless nod to the pair, he steps forward to secure a couple of glasses; one of red, and one of white, offering the second to Jocelyn. Just in time to catch the trail end of the conversation: &quot;You had a friend standing?&quot; he says, with a curious glance at T'gar, interested.<br /> <br /> &quot;Who would wanna miss a hatchin'?&quot; is Jo's return greeting to Farideh as she casts a look around them. Her gaze lingers on those dressed well - the well-to-do, naturally - before returning to Farideh as she chews on a roll. Brow lifting to something said, &quot;What, don' wanna go through ''all'' that, eh?&quot; There's an underlying tease there, but she doesn't linger on it. &quot;Well, it'll sure come yer way eventually. Maybe not anytime soon, darlin'. Where's that boy o'yers?&quot; On the other side of the cavern, T'gar takes a drink of his glass before answering Jocelyn with a nod and a, &quot;I bet.&quot; There's a nod to Quint when he questions next before he says, &quot;No, she means Dee. Her queen's the one that laid those eggs. I thought I'd come around and catch her for a bit,&quot; But. As he eyes the crowd, it looks like his search is proving fruitless.<br /> <br /> &quot;Who would wanna miss a hatchin'?&quot; is Jo's return greeting to Farideh as she casts a look around them. Her gaze lingers on those dressed well - the well-to-do, naturally - before returning to Farideh as she chews on a roll. Brow lifting to something said, &quot;What, don' wanna go through ''all'' that, eh?&quot; There's an underlying tease there, but she doesn't linger on it. &quot;Well, it'll sure come yer way eventually. Maybe not anytime soon, darlin'. Where's that boy o'yers?&quot; On the other side of the cavern, T'gar takes a drink of his glass before answering Jocelyn with a nod and a, &quot;I bet.&quot; There's a nod to Quint when he questions next before he says, &quot;No, she means Dee. Her queen's the one that laid those eggs. I thought I'd come around and catch her for a bit,&quot; But. As he eyes the crowd, it looks like his search is proving fruitless.<br /> <br /> &quot;Did you have bets out?&quot; It must finally hit Farideh some of the draws to these things for the bluerider, besides the obvious, even if she misses that assessment. &quot;I hope you didn't lose terribly bad, and-no, not just left. If we're lucky, none of them will rise for at least another turn or two.&quot; Her eyes slant towards the other Reachian goldrider briefly, and then flick back to Jo with a hike of her brows. &quot;Back at home, I suppose. Drinking up a massive tab at Snowasis. He-- well, you know how he is,&quot; prompts both a shrug and a drink from her wine.<br /> <br /> &quot;Weyrwoman Dahlia, &quot; Jocelyn rejoins after T'gar's clarification, taking the glass of white from Quint with a murmured thank-you. &quot;I'd hoped to congratulate her in person, myself. But I imagine, &quot; and there's a glance around the cavern at large, &quot;so does the rest of Pern.&quot; Her gaze, in the midst of traveling, briefly catches Farideh's look; this time, there's a small nod of her chin for her colleague before she takes a sip of her wine.<br /> <br /> &quot;Ah. Well, I imagine she's busy with... the obligations of a goldrider,&quot; Quint says, with a glance at Jocelyn and a barely suppressed smile. He lifts the glass to his lips, takes a small sip, and his eyes rove across the crowd, searching still in between conversation.<br /> <br /> &quot;No bets,&quot; Jo answers, shaking her head. &quot;I'd have to know 'bout the candidates for that.&quot; As for Drex, there's a snort easily heard from her before she flicks a studying glance at Farideh before saying, &quot;Not surprised. Perhaps ya can save me a dance sometime tonight then. If ya dare.&quot; There's a bold look to go with that. T'gar nods at Jocelyn's clarification before adding to Quint, &quot;Likely right. It's fine if I don't catch her tonight. Quintus, right?&quot; he peers at the harper now.<br /> <br /> The Weyrlingmaster hasn't had the opportunity to change, with blood (thankfully not her own) still splattering along her white tunic, though Olivya has managed to shrug back into her usually bold, bright red leather jacket. Her red lipstick hasn't even smeared through the evening, nor has any strain started to show. Instead, she converses with the junior in low, professional murmurs as she matches her long stride to Dahlia's while they enter the cavern, barely seeming to parse the change with her intent focus for the moment on whatever she's relaying.<br /> <br /> ''Of course'', Dahlia went to check on the weyrlings before putting in her own appearance at the feast. She nods along to Olivya's words as she moves alongside her in her gather best green dress, though a few turns out of style. She wears it well, her chin-length hair tucked prettily. &quot;Drinks?&quot; She inquires of the greenrider as the topic shifts more to the ''here'' than the ''there'', already moving to collect some for the both of them. Even if Liv has a long night ahead of her, a little celebratory drink now shouldn't hurt? Only as she gets a pair of drinks in hand, she spots the knot of High Reaches riders that includes goldriders, familiar bronzerider, and Harper and she angles that way, nodding toward Olivya her intent, greeting the lot with a broad smile and a cheerful, &quot;Fort's duties to High Reaches Weyr. Thank you all so much for coming.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Not even any dragon-in-eggs guesses?&quot; Farideh needles good-naturedly, and then resumes her fast-paced draining of her wineglass. &quot;A dance? Why wouldn't I? You think he'd stop me from ''dancing'' with you?&quot; sounds incredulous. There's a long pregnant pause to follow and then she laughs outright, only barely covering her mouth with a hand. And then there's Fort's junior and the Weyrlingmaster with her. Summoning up her I'm-a-polite-lady facade, she regards the other brunette for a moment, allowing room for other introductions, before she inclines her head politely. &quot;High Reaches duties. Congratulations to you and yours.&quot;<br /> <br /> Maybe those props ''do'' come in handy. Jocelyn's glass lingers at her mouth a moment longer before she lowers it again, the better to hide her ''un''suppressed smile. &quot;Undoubtedly.&quot; It's a little dark, but there's a keenness to her gaze once Taeliyth's comes into view, expression arranging into something polite. &quot;Dahlia. Congratulations to you both. And to that little candidate of yours. Brown, wasn't it?&quot; But there's a flash of a genuine smile somewhere in there, both for the younger goldrider and Catling's Impression.<br /> <br /> &quot;Correct,&quot; Quint replies with the habitual answer of a teacher; he chuckles. &quot;Well, as I understand it, weyrling T'gar, you'll soon be graduating, so I imagine finding the time will be a lot easier.&quot; He turns at the formal greetings, replying in kind: &quot;And High Reaches -- not to mention Harper's -- to Fort.&quot; He gives a nod of his head, gaze briefly on Dahlia, and skipping to Olivya. &quot;Congratulations on a healthy clutch,&quot; he lifts his glass in toast, taking a small sip of the contents.<br /> <br /> If it's a Lady-off, Olivya has the skills for that; she certainly holds herself like one and meets Farideh's politeness with her own reserved manners when she offers, &quot;Weyrwomen, pleased that you could make it out for our hatching.&quot; Having accepted Dahlia's offered drink (just the one), she lifts the wine to her lips now that hides a polite smile behind its clear edge. When her gaze meets Quint's, it lingers as if trying to communicate ''something'' silently. Whatever it isn't, it isn't said now while everyone is offering their congratulations to her own weyrwoman.<br /> <br /> &quot;M'ron'n Kait follow all that,&quot; Jo answers on bets easily as she watches the crowd while she eats. With Farideh agreeing to a dance though, the wingsecond flicks a wry glance her way before saying, &quot;Why wouldn' ya indeed?&quot; By then Dahlia arrives enough for her to nod and say to her, &quot;Congrats.&quot; As for T'gar, there's an open chuckle for Quint and Jocelyn before Dahlia's and Olivya's arrival draws a nod in greeting from him. &quot;Hatching went well,&quot; he adds his well-wishes, of course, his gaze lingering longer on the Fort weyrwoman.<br /> <br /> &quot;Thank you,&quot; Dahlia answers the congratulations as one. &quot;And Fort's duties to Harper, of course, Journeyman,&quot; she offers to Quint with a chagrinned smile for having missed that off the bat. &quot;Weyrwoman Farideh,&quot; she half questions with a little tilt of her head, &quot;I'm so glad to meet you,&quot; and her hand is offered toward the acting Weyrwoman, though she nods with a smile to acknowledge Jocelyn's particular congratulations toward Catling. &quot;I do hope you're all enjoying the feast. I don't think we could've asked for more - a healthy clutch and lifemates for all. And now all in Olivya's capable hands.&quot; Lucky Olivya. The junior is ''pleased''. &quot;Rat,&quot; she addresses the bronzerider without any apparent shame for their association, &quot;You'll dance with me tonight, won't you?&quot; After all, that's what the music is for, right?<br /> <br /> The weyrwoman's eyes flick sidelong to Jo, and her lips part like she means to say something else on the matter, except-- she doesn't. Instead, Farideh grasps the hand offered her way and extends her polite smile to Dahlia, fingers lightly gripping before they loosen. &quot;It's lovely to meet you as well, and under what better circumstances? It's a shame it wasn't sooner, but I'm glad to have been a witness to such a wonderful day for Fort and, you, of course,&quot; has the ring of genuineness, at least. &quot;You've met Jocelyn? And--&quot; Her eyes flick to the other weyrling in attendance. &quot;I do believe I spy my weyrleader over ''there'' and I should have a word with him. I'm glad to have met you finally, Dahlia. You shouldn't be a stranger to High Reaches,&quot; smooth, purposeful. &quot;Excuse me.&quot; And with a last, meaningful look at Jo -- for that dance promise no doubt -- she's slipping off to probably go yell at K'del somewhere.<br /> <br /> &quot;Good luck to you, Weyrlingmaster, &quot; in the wake of Olivya's greeting. &quot;I think Quinlys will be glad to have us completely removed from her responsibility soon enough, &quot; says Jocelyn with at least some good humor, lingering through a few more minutes of small talk. Once a round of pleasantries seems all but complete amongst those nearest, she surrenders her barely-touched glass to a passing server, slipping her arm from Quint's elbow with a small grimace. &quot;I should get back before it gets too late. I'd like to talk with your sister sometime, if she comes back with you.&quot; Meanwhile, there are excuses to be made - and Farideh's departure is apparently also ''her'' cue to work her way toward the exit leading to the bowl, pausing only to return the occasional greeting and to reclaim her outerwear.<br /> <br /> Whatever the Weyrlingmaster might be trying to communicate, Quint's expression is unwavering. He gives an easy nod to Dahlia, apparently unconcerned by the correction. He's silent while further pleasantries are exchanged, lifting his glass to his lips, but taking only a small sip. He gives a nod for Jocelyn -- perhaps lingering a little as she mentions his sister -- and murmurs something acknowledging. While others slip away, he seems inclined to do the same -- but first, he moves towards Olivya's side, murmurs a request for a dance, and leads the Weyrlingmaster off towards the dance floor.<br /> |Categories=General Logs, Party Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Gather_Girls&diff=85201 2016-03-12T18:22:13Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Jo |what=Farideh and Jo go to a gather, but Farideh doesn't want to take Jo's advice. |where=Ista Hold |involves=High Reaches Weyr, Ista Hold |day=5 |month...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Jo<br /> |what=Farideh and Jo go to a gather, but Farideh doesn't want to take Jo's advice.<br /> |where=Ista Hold<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr, Ista Hold<br /> |day=5<br /> |month=3<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.03.02<br /> |quote=&quot;Nothin' ever chiseled in stone, Kitten.&quot;<br /> |mentions=K'del, Dahlia, Irianke, Drex, Mirinda, N'rov, Mielline, Aishani<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh worry.png, Icon jo flirty.jpg,<br /> |log=It's well into Ista's evening by the time their gather is in full swing. There's colorful tents everywhere of food and drink to be had since the sellers have long packed up for the night. The swept dancegrounds had the most attention naturally with the harpers playing a rousing song that got people moving. Jo is here, having invited Farideh out with a hand full of meatrolls and her flask being carried under one arm as they walk. She's already eaten much of her meal. &quot;A good night for a gather,&quot; she comments aloud, passing a glance over towards the weyrwoman as she offers her a meatroll.<br /> <br /> Ventures ''out'' of the Weyr are far and few between these days, and farther afield than their coverage area or neighboring Weyrs even less. It is, however, a special occasion since it's the bluerider that Farideh has joined, wearing her gather best (an Igen-style dress in aqua and gold, and soft flats that barely peek out from beneath her dress hem). &quot;It's always a good night for a gather in Ista. Unless it rains, I suppose. It's such a nice change from ''cold and dreary'',&quot; she fusses, her eyes taking in the sights and her hands being occupied with sweet treats and wine.<br /> <br /> Jo's busy looking for a free table to dump their load and free their hands as she snickers at something Farideh says. &quot;I would ask if ya come out here often, but,&quot; she lets that trail, perhaps in light of a free table being found and directing Farideh towards it. &quot;'N, ya should have somethin' more than just sweets, Kitten,&quot; she has to note in eyeing the treats in hand. &quot;'Least I now what sorts to gift ya with on yer turnday, or, just 'cause.&quot; She sets her food and flask down before sitting down herself.<br /> <br /> Relief marks the young brunettes face when they finally find a place to settle down. Relinquishing her items onto the table's top, Farideh sinks into the nearest chair and sighs a delighted sigh that radiates through her expression. &quot;Sweets are my favorite part,&quot; is part pout. &quot;I've always favored them, but now-- I don't know. I might favor the wine, more.&quot; Her eyes squint briefly in mockery of thought, and then she's grinning at the other woman. &quot;You don't have to get me ''anything''. How have things ''been''? Since-- the hatching that we both had the fortune of being at.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Ya mean ya've never had someone just gift ya somethin' for bein' sweet, kind're hot - if yer sayin' I don't ''have'' to?&quot; Jo words it the way she does, giving Farideh a look. &quot;I will say 'bout Ista though,&quot; she adds idly as she flicks open her flask for a drink. &quot;Their drinks here are worth the trip alone, everytime.&quot; Pause. &quot;Things been good,&quot; she allows for an answer, nodding. &quot;My life continues to evolve 'round wing duties, bar brawls'n borin' bedmates. Ya didn' seem all that....&quot;the pause is deliberate for the insertion of any word, &quot;...back in Fort. Ya know the weyrwomen'n N'rov well?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Yes, they ''have'', but it doesn't mean you ''should''. Your company is all I need for a gift,&quot; Farideh says, dazzling smile and all, before she starts to tear into her treats with vigor. &quot;Is Mielline still being good to you? Does K'del continue to ''impress'',&quot; note the dryness, &quot;as everlasting weyrleader? Is there anything ''interesting'' to report that I wouldn't hear otherwise?&quot; Her look is innocent -- really! -- when she lifts her hazel eyes to Jo. &quot;I know N'rov as well as-- well, I consider him a quasi-friend-and-acquaintance. We met here in Ista, actually. Before he knew who I was and before I knew who he was, and before we both had our respective knots that we now have. I enjoy him. He's funny, and a gentleman. Mirinda is equally as pleasant to deal with. Dahlia,&quot; and there's a pause. &quot;I'm not sure how I feel about her. She originally wrote to me when she was a weyrling, wanting to be pen pals or something. ''K'del'' recommended it, and, well-- you know how I feel about K'del. I've been leery of her ever since, which ''may'' be an unfair prejudice,&quot; she admits! &quot;I've ''heard'' she's come to call on our riders before, however, she's never introduced herself to me. I find that particularly-- bold?&quot; And not the good kind of bold, apparently.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mmhmm,&quot; is all Jo says on company, a touch playful in the end as she finsihes off a meatroll. &quot;Mielline is good,&quot; she goes on to answer wryly now. &quot;No nonsense'n I can appreciate that. As for our Weyrleader,&quot; and there's a pause with a look at the weyrwoman, &quot;perhaps his days as Weyrleader'll be numbered. Perhaps he'll be Weyrleader'n outlived the whole lot of us. Damn dragons're unpredictable, darlin'. Nothin' interestin' to report on ''my'' end, anyway. Weyrlins' graduated. I'm rather surprised Snowdrift didn' collect this time, but, the wing ''is'' pretty full. The weyrlin' goldrider settlin' well in yer wing?&quot; she asks now before there's a grin on talk of N'rov. &quot;I met him back when 'Shani was alive,&quot; she admit, and it's hard to hide the bittersweetness from her voice. &quot;Amazin' how things change, turns later.&quot; There's a marked silence to that that's tinged with restlesness before she nods on Dahlia. &quot;Girl doesn' seem to have much in weyrwoman companions,&quot; she idly notes wryly. &quot;Is it really bad to reach out to weyrwomen in other Weyrs? I reckon she'd still be open to shakin' on friendship. If ya think it's valuable.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;That's ''good'' to hear.&quot; This is, presumably, about Mielline and the wing, and not K'del's tenure as weyrleader for the foreseeable future. &quot;It's surprising, indeed. Mielline didn't have her eye on anyone? I'm more surprise since what happened to Frostbite. And the others, too.&quot; Farideh studies Jo thoughtfully and then shrugs in an absent-minded, dismissive sort of way. &quot;Really? I can't imagine him as someone's-- boyfriend? Weyrmate? Whatever they were. He seems kind of--&quot; But her nose wrinkles and she laughs, which is only sobered by the bluerider's further thoughts on the Fortian weyrwoman. &quot;I don't know that I want to play politics with anyone who's already in K'del's pocket, or that has such bad manners,&quot; she says, unapologetically.<br /> <br /> &quot;I don' know if she thought anyone would've been a good fit,&quot; Jo answers on Mielline with a slight shrug as she chews. &quot;'Course, perhaps in time someone'll transfer in. It happens. The wing yer tapped isn' always the right fit. Glacier was'n still is for me.&quot; On Fort's Weyrleader, there's a wistful grin and she is slow to respond as if she's looking back on memories. Then, &quot;He was good to 'Shani,&quot; she says a touch soberly. &quot;They were good to each other. I kinda even envied'em. What they had, but it wasn' something' I ever admitted to her. Loyalty like that - even livin' in separate Weyrs - is hard to find.&quot; As for Dahlia, she shakes her head as chuckle comes up before she notes, &quot;Or, ya can see it as an opportunity to mold a young'n likely malleable mind. Pockets can change, all the time. Just like weyrmates. Nothin' ever chiseled in stone, Kitten.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Already thinking of leaving Snowdrift and Mielline, so soon?&quot; Farideh looks amused by that. &quot;I didn't know him ''then'', not when she-- well. He must hide his hurt well, or he heals quickly. I don't know what I would do if--&quot; Her lips compress and her eyebrows furrow. &quot;It was a pity to lose her like that.&quot; She releases a breath and leans back, considering the bluerider. &quot;I'm not like Irianke or you. I don't see cards to hide or play when I see ''people''. I wouldn't know what to do with her anyway. Invite her over for tea and cookies? Show her my weyr and all of my pretty, pretty dresses?&quot; No, she doesn't look half as amused about ''that'' as she was about Jo's mention of Glacier.<br /> <br /> &quot;Nah, not much of a point goin' backwards,&quot; is Jo's answer on returning to Glacier. &quot;As for N'rov, well....it's true what they say 'bout time healin'. It used to hurt to think of her, but now...&quot; Now there's a half-hearted shrug, not executed completely. &quot;'Sides, who's to say that he's not still mournin'? He never came off to me as the sort to show his feelins' to those not close to him. It ain' somethin' a man's gonna admit.&quot; Finishing the last of her rolls with a drink from her flask while Farideh talks of weyrwomen relations before the wingsecond says, &quot;Ya ain' gotta be like Irianke'n me. Ain' nothin' wrong with bein' on a familiar basis with the girl's all I'm sayin'. Tea'n cookies wouldn' be a bad thing. If it was me, I'd prefer talk over whiskey'n a few dart games at the Snow.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Time heals wounds, but-- that's an awfully big wound to heal. I read in the records it was in turn thirty-six, right? That is four turns. Four turns doesn't seem like a lot, but perhaps you're right. Perhaps he just doesn't show his feelings. ''I'' would be a mess, four turns later,&quot; Farideh replies, eyes flicking back and forth, as they mark gather-goers who pass by their table. &quot;There's everything wrong with being on familiar basis with the girl if I don't ''want'' to. Do I have ''every goldrider's friend'' painted on my forehead? No-- I like ''our'' goldriders and that's good enough. So, while I appreciate your council, I will politely decline that advice. Besides, like I said, she's on speaking terms with K'del. I'm sure he would ''love'' to be the one hosting the tea and cookies party for her, instead.&quot; Stubborn.<br /> <br /> &quot;Speakin' as someone who's had nothin' but losses in her life,&quot; Jo states quietly as she studies the weyrwoman, &quot;I ain' one to that likes to be pitied. So, whether it's really healed or not, ya shove it down where nobody can see.&quot; Farideh's stubborness on the latter does earn her an amused grin from the bluerider as she looks her up and down and shakes her head. &quot;No,&quot; she answers on something Farideh says. &quot;Ya have ''I'm hot when I'm stubborn as fuck'' painted there instead.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Do they? Pity you, I mean.&quot; Head tilted on her neck, Farideh continues to consider the other woman, with an open inquisitiveness; it's not pity at least. &quot;I can't think anyone ''would'', if not for fear that they'd get punched or otherwise.&quot; She stifles a giggle at that, and contemplatively strokes the bottom of her wine goblet with her fingertips. &quot;Did you suggest it just ''so'' I would refuse?&quot; she asks, sidelong look and all.<br /> <br /> With a thin grin, &quot;I don' show much of anythin' to begin with, Kitten,&quot; Jo answers on pity as she takes a drink. &quot;It shouldn' much surprise ya 'bout me.&quot; As for all things refusal and otherwise, the wingsecond grin something that is both seductive and humorous before she answers on that last, &quot;I'll admit that's part of the truth. I like gettin' ya all riled up. The other part ''is'' my generous advice, though. As a 'rider.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;No.&quot; Simple agreement and the graceful curve of a smile follow. &quot;I already knew ''that''. I think you must dream about it. ''How'', oh how, can I make Farideh angry today?&quot; Farideh scrunches her nose up at the bluerider, and then rolls her eyes. &quot;Generous. Unwanted. Can you tell the difference? Come, let's dance,&quot; but she's already reaching for Jo's wrist and standing.<br /> <br /> &quot;Makin' ya angry ain' what I usually have in mind,&quot; is all Jo states on dreaming as she lets her wrist be claimed. Standing up as she conceals the flask, &quot;'N here I thought I was goin' to be the one to offer,&quot; she drawls that out on dancing, seeming to be content in letting Farideh lead. &quot;Can't much promise that I won' ''behave'', though.&quot; Not this time, evidently. &quot;Fair warnin', Kitten.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;When do you ''ever''?&quot; is tossed back to the taller woman as Farideh leads the way from their seats, and treats, out towards the dancing milling and twirling in the dance square. It's a lively song that the harpers have chosen this set, and it takes the goldrider a moment -- of staring around to get her bearings -- before she leads into the quintessential steps. &quot;I always find it ''odd'' that you enjoy things like this.&quot;<br /> <br /> Trailing behind Farideh looking like she's in good humor, &quot;I think ya enjoy me rilin' ya up,&quot; Jo goes on to say lightly. &quot;Admit it, Kitten. Though, ya don' blow up at me anymore like ya used to. It's almost as if ya've gotten ''used'' to me now.&quot; The notion alone, she makes it sound shocking. She's not too smooth on the steps, but for the most part she seems to be trying to hide that fact. To her last, &quot;I enjoy free food, the free excuse to grope someone durin' a dance'n easy seduction opportunities.&quot; She doesn't even sound apologetic. &quot;What's ''not'' to like 'bout gathers?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;If I admit it, I'm part of the problem,&quot; Farideh muses, cutting Jo a ''look'' between fluid movements, but her careful composure crumbles beneath the last. Her lip wobbles and her bites it, only to give into laughter moments later. &quot;''Truly''? It's about the groping?&quot; Indulging herself a bit longer, her giggles lift above the instruments and song. &quot;I used to love going to gathers to see the people, when I was younger,&quot; when she manages some soberness.<br /> |Categories=Gather Logs, General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Taeliyth_and_Leczuth%27s_Eggs_Hatch!&diff=85143 2016-02-28T22:03:19Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Dahlia{{!}}Taeliyth, Dahlia, Estanei, A'sran{{!}}Leczuth, A'sran, N'rov, Mirinda, Quint, Farideh, K'del, Jocelyn, Jo, Silva, Jo{{!}}M'ron, T'gar, Olivya, Kh'tyr, Br'and, Br'and{{!}}Kahvaroeth, D'aeo, D'aeo{{!}}Zvaezdiyth, Ay'zan, Ay'zan{{!}}Yuanth, Catling, Catling{{!}}Riyoth<br /> |what=Taeliyth and Leczuth's eggs hatch.<br /> |where=Galleries, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr<br /> |day=18<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.27<br /> |weather=Snow.<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon dahlia taeliyth sunshine.jpg, Icon dahlia joy.jpg, Icon a'sran leczuth hello.jpg, Icon a'sran farther.jpg, Icon estanei.jpg, Icon n'rov.png, Icon mirinda professional.jpg, Icon quint.jpg, Icon farideh glamour.png, Icon k'del formal.jpg, Icon jocelyn fancy.jpg, Icon silva too pretty.jpg, Icon jo civillized.jpg, Icon t'gar rider.jpg, Icon olivya smile.png, Icon kh'tyr lecture.jpg, BreirandeContemplative.JPG, Icon d'aeo.jpg,<br /> |log=Though it's been known for some days that the eggs are nearing hatching, it isn't until dinner is underway in the Living Cavern that the unmistakable sound of humming dragons rises from where the snow continues to fall pleasantly outside. The sound grows as more and more dragons give voice to announcing the imminent event: the eggs are hatching!<br /> <br /> Up on the ledge, a russet brown hums while his rider has claimed a few non-VIP seats as close to the action as she can. She has a notepad in one hand and a pouch in the other and the people who surround her seem anywhere between agitated (in the throwing up kind of way) to excited (in also possibly the throwing up kind of way). &quot;Only a few more minutes left for bets, children,&quot; says the lanky woman who doesn't look all that far from the diminutive she's tossed at some men who are much much much older than her.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Taeliyth's hum is with verve. Her eyes whirl swiftly, her excitement evident in voice and pose. Though she stays well back from the now animated eggs, sitting close to Leczuth, with the occasional nudge of her head to his shoulder or neck as if to point out this thing or that, if he hasn't seen - or just to make sure he ''did'' see, her mood is unmistakable: hatchings are fun!<br /> <br /> Dahlia's mood might be buoyed by her lifemate's, for standing where she's at on the sands with the other leaders of the Weyr and A'sran, she's bouncing on her boot tips like a child before the curtain draws a Harper concert. &quot;It's time,&quot; is practically a squee to no one in particular, her energy too much to be contained in any stately state, wide grin offered to all her companions in turn (all of whom will, inevitably, have their arm grasped, while she bounces and points at something new) by the end of this.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It should come as little surprise to anyone who knows Taeliyth that her eggs aren't about to keep watchers waiting long after the humming has begun. Though there's little movements here and there from eggs across the sands as the deafening voice of the Weyr gives notice of the impending arrival of new dragons, including a twitch from the Midas' Puzzle Egg, the real start of the show comes as Fuzzy Wuzzy Egg and Tee-Tee Egg prove they're not as soft and snuggley at they appear, the crack of shell slamming into shell and both shattering in a spray of shard and fluid onto the surrounding sand, spilling a blue and a green inelegantly onto the sands. It takes each a moment to get their bearings but both have a certain verve to their step as they each stumble in different directions and find their lifemates in swift succession. If this is a portent for the hatching on the whole, even with only just enough candidates to give a fair choice to the hatchlings, then it's a good one.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first move onto the sands is to give a bow to the clutchparents, and from far enough away that it hints to his natural reticence when it comes to what's proper with dragons. The fact that the show starts immediately has the young man stumbling in the sand just for a step. Quick look around: no one saw that, ahem. &quot;They're fast,&quot; a muttered comment as steps less sure carry him forward. Ever forward.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's job as Weyrlingmaster might be secure; she gets all of the candidates (who wanted to come) to the sands and bowing to the dam and sire on time for those eggs to crack. But those red lips of hers are pressed into a tight line as she settles into the sidelines to watch, even as she nods to an assistant to go get the dazed weyrlings that hadn't had time to settle into place.<br /> <br /> The weather isn't problematic enough to keep people from coming to the hatching, but it ''is'' snow and it ''does'' stick. High Reaches' acting weyrwoman is brushing at the white stuff on her fur-lined cloak when she finally arrives with her weyrleader. She gives up the gambit when they arrive at their designated seats in the dignitaries' section, removing said cloak altogether and situating herself on one of the cushioned seats; where upon she arranges her deep blue skirts with a polite smile to those people on either side of K'del and herself. &quot;Lovely evening for a hatching,&quot; she murmurs conversationally to the man at her elbow.<br /> <br /> From the sands, For Breirande... Well, okay; it's eye bugging time, since the hatchlings are instantly erupting. He's barely out on the Sands, bowing rigidly to the clutchparents, and unobtrusively seeking to 'hide' behind other candidates when it starts happening. Let the *true* sweating begin!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Tawny-bronze Leczuth is a silent sentinel next to his mate, allowing her exuberance to take the lead. His whirling eyes seem to take in both the quickly-filling galleries and the eggs all that once, and that before the candidates have even made it into his line of vision. He tries to see everything at once, though his projected emotions are more territorial - and proud! - than the excitement that Taeliyth shows.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Spirit's Silhouette Egg flutters, then shudders, then pops, leaving a dainty green to claw her way out of the hole poked by her muzzle, while the braided arcs of gold unravel on Caged Jewel Egg to reveal a sizable brown. The latter pauses by the former as she shakes the last bit of shard off her foot, before he's off and moving toward the ring of white-robed candidates. The green ends up finding her girl first, while the brown finds an exotic lifemate from outside the Weyr some moments later. Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it is actually ''black'' as the darkness spreads across the shell, except that the blackness is actually cracks across the surface as it continues to rock.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran stands at ease next to Dahlia and their weyrleaders, idling the time before the eggs actually start hatching by watching people shuffle into the galleries; there's only so much interest he can feign in wobbling eggs, ok!? His eyes briefly drop to the goldrider-on-her-toes, and his mouth quirks into a smile, but he's quickly back to eyeing the hatching-goers.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's just made it in time for the first shell to break; he escorts Mirinda, laughing, with a low relieved mutter that they're ''alive''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan is amongst the line of candidates emerging into the sands. Swallowing once he tries to push down his growing nerves. Remembering just in time to bow to the clutch parents, a proper bow that speaks of plenty of training, he now steps to join the others. Deep breath and 'Oh!' is exclaimed as his gaze takes in eggs shattering and hatchlings already upon the sands and finding life mates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Some of that blackness in Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it isn't actually black at all, as that darkness seems to ''move'' from within that ever thickening middle and widening crevices. The hatchling is precise in their movements, however, as it works at the cracks until the egg falls apart to reveal that darkness as brown. Once he has achieved his new state, freed from the shell, then his attention turns to meditate on the vast array of sands and candidates before him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; The Master Within Brown &gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Coltish to a fault, this tall, dark brown has a whimsical air about him <br /> from his muzzle's dished profile all the way down, and ''down'' to his <br /> small paws. Those extremities of his are even darker than the rest, as <br /> though he'd waded hip-high in ink and trailed his tail behind him too, <br /> even splashing it up the spars of his all too expansive wings. It's a <br /> second look that might find subtler variations, the depth polished away in<br /> his softer places to tawny warmth: the velvety curve of his muzzle and the<br /> vulnerable indentation behind his jaw, and indistinct dapplings along his <br /> underbelly and the fine sails of his wings like so many ghostly <br /> fingerprints. He has a lot to grow into, not just his bony frame, before <br /> he can approach anything like grace; in the meantime he carries himself <br /> with slow, careful movements. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's first move, rather than bowing, is to lift her gaze to the stands, squinting into the dimmer seats of the galleries for a moment as she searches--. But then she has to turn away to bow, to move to settle herself into a safe place as dragons spill from their eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon is quick on his feet, ensuring he doesn't get himself hurt especially when that dainty green has to claw her way out. Can't he just stand over here? All the way in the back? &quot;Geez, she wasn't kidding in saying don't get hurt.&quot; He half-turns, &quot;Did that one-?&quot; But then there's another hatching. It's too much, almost, to keep straight.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's eyes meet Mirinda's, briefly, and then N'rov's, but the Weyrlingmaster doesn't move to join the Weyrleaders, not where she has to stay on her toes to help with the chaos on the sands and seeing weyrlings off of them.<br /> <br /> &quot;Dear fuck,&quot; exclaims Estanei, staring at the sands even while marks are being shoved into her hand. &quot;No no, it's too late now. You lost quite a bit there, D'vere. First wasn't, in fact, a bronze. Check that bronze ego of yours at the door.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's hands clap together in delight as the first shells reveal their dragons. It's A'sran's turn to be grabbed on the arm first. &quot;''Look''!&quot; as if he's not already looking, she tugs his sleeve, smile just about as wide as it's ever been seen. &quot;''Dragons''!&quot; as if she might've feared they'd hatch enormous tunnelsnakes instead. She at least lets go of his sleeve to bounce beside him without detriment to his wardrobe, though her fingers twist into the fabric of her green skirts, the dress a lovely thing for this day of celebration, if perhaps a few turns out of style.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Finally The Master Within Brown moves again, more than his first deep breaths and the extrication of his long dark tail. He's picky, step by stilted step, carefulness the only reason he doesn't fall with those long and untried legs. He's picky, but also increasingly bright-eyed as bits of shell drop away in his footsteps like so much ink-and-yellow snow. He's picky, but that goes for the candidates too now that he's spotted them; he doesn't so much approach them as walk along just inside their lines, ''searching''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling nearly stumbles as she makes the change from hard stone to soft copper under her feet, but she recovers the forward momentum into a deep bow towards the clutch-parents. Then she delicately makes certain she is not likely to trip on anything, and she then makes her way towards the eggs, stopping a respectful, hopeful distance away.<br /> <br /> Amongst the High Reaches contingent is a small group who arrived earlier. There's a bit of discussion at the entranceway; perhaps largely owing to Quint's easy though probably-not-serious suggestion: &quot;You ''could'' come and sit with us,&quot; to Jocelyn, before his gaze sweeps the galleries and he indicates a spot down the ways, following closely on Silva's heels to the indicated seats.<br /> <br /> From the sands, 'Poor' Breirande. To relieve his overwhelmed brain from goggling at all those baby dragons spilling out of shells and rambling around choosing their lifemates, he's jerking his gaze up to the galleries, desperately seeking his mother. Luckily, he notes her quite soon, and the elegant-looking woman smiles proudly down to her child, while 'Rand's younger sibs waves and grin at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg wobbles in its wallow made of sand, warming to the thrum that reverberates through the cavern. Cream and Egg's occupant goes from statue-still to animated in a way that make the shell seem to expand in what might be a lazy stretch within, trembling for a moment as might muscles pushed to their limit. Then the breath of life so suddenly evident in the subtly speckled egg is lost as in exhale and it's terribly, utterly motionless again.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran laughs at the goldrider's exuberance, but he cannot quite help straightening his sleeve when she relinquishes it. He ''does'' step closer and leans forward, taking in the hatchlings that has thus far hatched. &quot;I hope you did not place any ''real'' bets on the results,&quot; he says, but his head lifts and his eyes slide back to N'rov. Him, too.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon inches closer now that some of the immediate chaos dies down. He checks out where some of his fellow candidates are, then chances another few steps closer to the dragonets. Though once, he half-turns and looks back at the gawking crowds in the galleries. And //that// seems to freak him out more than the dragonets, for it's face-first back to the sands!<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's gaze cuts across Olivya's with a sudden grin at its heels; he rubs his hands together, as though still unused to the heat after the snow without, or as though it might burn off some of the adrenaline. Then he's still, still as that speckled egg. He wouldn't, surely, have bet against ''those''.<br /> From the sands, A small boy from the lower caverns, surely at the youngest limit for candidates, sidles behind his older sister, shifting uncomfortably in his sandals. &quot;Ninena, I we-,&quot; but anything else he says turns into an inaudible mumble.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown keeps walking, not quick about it but as methodical as he is with the rest of his search. Though his eyes whirl red, it's less erratically so than with most hatchlings, and though increasing ''need'' is evinced in how deeply and closely he looks, desperation doesn't take him over. Once he pauses by an older candidate, his head quirked in quizzical interest. But the next time he pauses, it's with a step forward, towards one of the youngest boys of the Weyr.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;I did!&quot; Dahlia volunteers to A'sran of bets even though she wasn't the one he was addressing, &quot;But only a little,&quot; she adds, glancing ''guiltily'' to the two Onyx riders in between the coos that are for no one at the hatchlings creating chaos some distance away.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan shifts his feet from side to side with his gaze sweeping the eggs near constantly. Only partially aware of the candidates around him he spares a quick sideways glance towards Daemon briefly.<br /> <br /> Sands coats and such Silva's dress is ''nice''. There's hints of blueish-silver trim that totally match her blue outside. A few steps in as she casts a glance back to Quint and Jocelyn, &quot;You know, like, if you ''really'' wanted to I wouldn't like... really mind.&quot; It's an invitation. Their seats are PRobABLY not as good as Jocelyn's but... friendsish?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's fingers worry away at a piece of cloth between them, her attention kept stubbornly on the eggs and hatchlings as they pair off. Eventually, though, she glances back up again to the galleries, this time searching until she does find-- yes, ''him''. A trembling smile touches her lips then, one that likely was meant to be more reassuring.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon might have managed to give Ninwayzan a subtle brofist of encouragement if his attention wasn't mostly on the eggs and dragonets. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling licks her lips, finding a place with reasonably good footing in the sand. Then she goes still again, watching. She twirls her fingers, nervous fingers, in a lock of her hair, then runs her fingers through the tangles.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown finishes with his intent study of one young Fortian boy only to turn away disappointed. His gait carefully picks across the sands, retreading steps already trod and taking a different turn at one particular juncture to inspect a candidate thus unnoticed. There is a method to his madness, a pattern discernible from aerial vantage points in the deep imprinted paths of his small paws. It's here, at this one, a petite girl with copper hair, that he perks up, suddenly interested. And then, for all of the world to see, there is the tell-tale sign of Impression as his eyes whirl in rainbow colors.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Cream and Egg briefly defies gravity as it leaves the sands fully for a brief moment after what must have been a monumental effort from the dragon within. As the creamy shell slaps back onto golden sand, the black flecks prove to be shatter points and the egg explodes on impact. In its wake is left a constellation-kissed bronze, dripping egg goo onto the sands, his look distinctly vexed. Ew. Goo.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Entangle the Stars Bronze &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Kinetic energy radiates through this dragonet's youthfully exaggerated <br /> proportions, as though it might set the nebula of his hide-- its hazy <br /> clouds of light and contrastingly swart shadows obscuring a burnished <br /> copper-bronze backdrop-- into full-fledged and characteristically <br /> unpredictable motion. Gravity might well have drawn the darkest hues <br /> towards the central part of his frame, leaving his extremities bright and <br /> nearly golden at the tips of headknobs and claws, but for the billow of <br /> deep, dusted rust across his wingsails that escapes even that. Clusters of<br /> stars stipple pale constellations across his top-line, traversing from his<br /> muzzle over his neckridges and wingspars, all the way down to the spade of<br /> his tail. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran's grin starts when he's staring at the weyrleader, but his gaze ends up focused on Dahlia. &quot;That hideous orange egg?&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Everyday Ingenuity Egg buckles at the same moment as The Image Within becomes, explosively, the Image Without. Sticky bronze wings burst through the shell of the former while the blue kicks his dark egg's remnants out of his way. The blue is on a mission where the bronze seems like he has no where to go, at first. Impression for the blue lands him a blonde girl while eventually the bronze settles on one of the taller boys in the class.<br /> <br /> Hatchlings are already afoot when Jocelyn arrives at the same time as several others from High Reaches, shedding her cloak upon entering the hatching grounds with an uncomfortable touch to the too-warm neckline of her own, blue dress. &quot;I'd like that, &quot; she says unexpectedly to Quint and Silva while they're paused in the entry, following as they navigate for a seat with a glance down to where her weyrleaders are seated. She's half-staring below while moving around people with mutters of excuse-mes and pardon-mes, exhaling with some relief as she can finally turn the whole of her attention onto the motions down on the sands once settled.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's reply is to A'sran comes with a glance askance and a murmur of, &quot;Giant, irascible bronzes.&quot; He must know the ones she means. A moment later though, she tosses him a wink. She's not telling, apparently.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon isn't sure //what// the proper etiquette is, but, &quot;Congratulations!&quot; seems to be a good response to the Impressions around him. His smile is tight only because of nervousness for sincerity lurks yet in his blue eyes. Then another dragon is hatching and with it even more, and once again, Daemon's doing the hibbie-jibbie-stay-out-of-the-way dance.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg stops moving abruptly, as cracks start to form at the base and spread upwards with due diligence. Meanwhile, nearly identical blues spill from Sawed Scene Egg and Folds and Wrinkles Egg within moments of one another. Both are up and moving and neither seems inclined to hurry their decisions, ranging across the sands back and forth in an almost synchronized pattern of search, each keen not to miss anything. When they find their lifemates, the two Impressees couldn't be more different: one an older, slender Monacoan and the other a very young, stocky local. The Charcoal and Graphite Egg smudges further into the sand as it wobbles in the sand. The hatchling within must be determined, as it does not even take a second's break in its continued rocking.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Egg goo is awful. Entangle the Stars Bronze Hatchling looks pitiful even with his obvious disdain for his ''drowned'' state. With forepaws touching the sand, he shakes free the worst of it, showering the nearby eggs. Now that he's as reasonably non-drippy as he can manage, he can turn his eyes curiously toward the white-robed figures ringing the eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya is the first of the weyrlingmaster staff to step forward towards the newly-Impressed Catling, nodding simply towards the young girl before she commands quietly, &quot;Come with me; we have food and the barracks ready for you both.&quot; Her gaze sweeps to N'rov yet again, though, as she does so and she curves a brow at him. (This is probably how all those rumors got started, not at all because Liv's plahyer.)<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran is too polite to strangle a woman on the sands while her dragon's eggs are hatching, but he is probably thinking it. Definitely.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande's nod to his mother, sibs, and his greenriding step-father is a jerky, harsh thing, given his increasing agitation inside, but his resolve is screwed up another notch when he sees that pride in his mom's face. Looking back to Sands, he finds more dragons, more Impressions. Catling is one? Gulp!<br /> <br /> From the sands, The cracks on surface of the fragile-looking, Fire-Sculpted Egg grow and the shell simultaneously pulses, but then with a singular, heroic shove of darkened limbs, the dragonet within sets itself free and stands proudly in the remnants. He lifts his head resolutely, surveying his surroundings, not the least bit set aback by the sand and bits of shell stuck to his brown hide.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov exhales as that egg not only moves but breaks, but he has the remaining eggs to eye, gaze narrowed as though he could force them all to rock and hatch through sheer force of will. Luckily for Mirinda, he doesn't seem inclined to strangle either.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Till the End of the Line Brown &gt;---------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Rich chocolate hide stretches over the small bones of this runt-sized <br /> brown, though potential awaits in the wideness of his russet-tinged wings <br /> and the ungainliness of his large-footed amble. With his warm coloring and<br /> sleek, satiny hide, he carries himself with a certain self-assurance <br /> despite those youthful disadvantages. His large and bright eyes, overset <br /> by sooty eyeridges, are a focal point of his finely crafted head, and are <br /> at odds with the perpetual, resting smirk of his mouth. Dark smatterings <br /> of copper and carmine scatter across his flanks, deepening into a large <br /> deposit of rusted shadows that stretches upward from his gleaming slate <br /> claws into the hollows of his wings. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling sinks to her knees, a gasp coming out of her mouth, then a soft, wordless cry. &quot;Riyoth? Riyoth.&quot; Joyous now. &quot;His name is Riyoth!&quot; A shout, triumphant, and she rises to her feet. &quot;I am ready,&quot; she says, putting her hand out to him, stroking him, then motioning towards Olivya. THis way....&quot;<br /> <br /> There's a smile for the bluerider's words, though it disappears quickly from Quint's face, as he instead glances to the sands, gaze flickering over the occupants before locating a familiar blonde figure. He exhales a breath, waiting until both Silva and Jocelyn are seated before he sinks down. For once, he doesn't have eyes for the dragons so much as for a particular occupant of the sands. &quot;That's her there, the blonde standing a bit aways,&quot; he says, with a grin. &quot;My sister.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The peculiar veneer of Jumbled Lights Eggs is broken when a bronze foot pushes through the shell, a few more shakes making it crack wide to let the dragon out. His path takes him past the trembling Windblown Wish Egg which crumples just after he passes it, revealing its dark green denizen. The bronze finds his lad first, while the green takes some time seeking her lifemate, though one is eventually selected from the offered candidates with a joyful creel. The valiant battle between the Charcoal and Graphite Egg continues undaunted by either time or the hatching of other eggs, though surely one side must be weakening by now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan simply has no words, for once, for this. Taking his his first hatching ever and doing it from the sands has left him nearly speechless indeed. Shuffling a bit to the right he peers around to see where the brown went and whom he is by. More movement of another one has him looking away quickly right after Catling announces Riyadh's name. So much to see! For the moment he focuses his gaze on the ones still moving in particular the bronze.<br /> <br /> Silva's short enough that those standing in front of her get a GLARE. Ugh. Stop being stupid people, sit down so the shorties can see. An impatient tap of Silva's toe against the floor as she edges around to get a look down below. &quot;It's like, a little different view from up here, isn't it?&quot; To Quint and Jocelyn.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon sneaks a few looks here and there, watching as Catling is lead off and studiously ignoring the crowds behind him. Does he look sick a little? Maaaaaybe, but it's patently obvious he's doing his best to hold it. &quot;Riyoth... Strong name.&quot; Talking to himself. First sign, people. There are too many dragons for him to focus on just one, so he doesn't try but instead works to keep them all in his field of vision.<br /> <br /> &quot;That one, &quot; Jocelyn repeats with a glance to Quint for confirmation, turning back again in time to see Catling get to her feet with her brown. Her eyebrows lift, and there's certainly some surprise evident in her expression - which tugs nevertheless into a small smile, particularly at Silva's remark. &quot;Only a little? Certainly less nerve-wracking.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, breathe. Breirande STAY. As dragonets whiz (or sit) by, he's very slowly and very subconsciously stepping back, back on Sands, and is only stopped in retreat by stumbling in them, jerking to right himself. By this point, his eyes should be literally exploding from his head, his limbs and eye twitching on and off. Flight seems very, very near...mother or not.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Till The End of the Line Brown Hatchling takes his time in leaving the shards of his egg behind. His process is slow and his steps deliberate, but he eventually, warily begins the arduous task of searching out his lifemate. He moves determinedly towards one group of candidates, studying them with a cautious stance; they are not to be, they are not ''his''. And on he marches, towards another group who has caught his wandering eye.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov has more hatchlings to eye, now, just as assessingly as before. A brief swing of his gaze might compare the latest sire and dam anew... or just see how they're dealing with this first clutch of theirs. A'sran, then, and Dahlia, and a murmur into Mirinda's ear. &quot;Think that one's going to run,&quot; is only part of it.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's, &quot;Aww,&quot; is for no one in particular as her hands clap together again, bouncing onto her toes. It's possible the initial excitement of the hatching is starting to wear off because the junior is becoming a little more quiet, though her lifemate still watches with marked interest. She ''might'' be counting down the eggs til there are none left and she's officially ''free''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya returns to the sands with blood already staining her white, sleeveless tunic. Luckily, it isn't hers. Her first response, of course, is to survey the wreckage that has managed to happen in her brief absence and start giving orders to assistants, before she starts skirting around the edge of the clutch to get a better position. She seems to be watching Breirande more than most, likely expecting the running as well.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm,&quot; Quint makes a noise in a way to suggest that he's listening to Silva without perhaps actually listening. He hasn't the weyrling's recent memories of their own hatching to muse over, after all. It's only the impatient tap of blue weyrling's toe that pulls his attention from the sands, however briefly; &quot;Here,&quot; he says, gesturing, &quot;Swap with me.&quot; He's tall enough to see past those in front, after all.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The likeness of the bird etched in the colors of the Charcoal and Graphite Egg is pierced cleanly through its imaginary heart with one sharp dragonet claw from within. Then the egg begins rocking again as the hatchling inside continues the fight to tear apart the egg that cages her inside as the eyes of the world watch her. It is a luminescent green that emerges victoriously, if exhausted, from the confrontation as she tumbles out of her shell, setting herself free into the uncertain world.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; As True As An Arrow Green &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> She isn't small, for all that she's green: all elongated curves rounded by<br /> baby fat, the more remarkable for the spirited way she holds her head and <br /> the brilliance of her hue. That luminescent green, spilt along her <br /> generous torso and over high arched and gently sloped back haunches, might<br /> appear grassy in another world; here, it's liquidly glossy as though just <br /> beneath the surface of a sunlit lake. A patterned braid is faint down the <br /> length of her spine, a matte relief amidst the fluid coloring, visible <br /> only in the ''right'' light. She's all the brighter for the darkness she <br /> does possess, near-mahogany shadows that stripe behind her swept-back <br /> neckridges and beneath the lithe length of her tail; dark as well are her <br /> tiny paws' claws, dark and ''pointed''. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Swapping with Quint is done before Quint's offer can be done. Even if this does settle Silva next to Jocelyn. At least she can SEE now. &quot;There's like, so many dragons walking around there.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan hasn't yet looked towards the crowd in his effort to watch each dragon in some way. Unable to watch them all of course he also tries to keep them in his field of vision. Bright green eyes follow the bronze before slipping to the brown and finally to a newly hatched green. Here he finds his voice in a low murmur of approval. Still shifting his weight from one foot to the other he seems to be managing his nerves fairly well thus far.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon hides hands that might hold a tremble still by crossing his arms across his chest. He presses his lips together and spares a moment to look at the sand beneath his (hot) sandaled (hot) feet. The crack of another egg, straight through the imaginary heart brings about his attention - back in action. &quot;Just breathe.&quot; It's a mantra. It's keeping him sane. His holdbred is showing, here.<br /> <br /> Naturally, Jo's late but at least she's here. She's quiet in arriving, scanning the stands until she spies Jocelyn with Quint and Silva before shuffling her way over to them. M'ron and Kaitlin trail behind her as she nods to those that look her way before the sand activity gets the brunt of her attention. T'gar is here as well, though he maintains keeping his distance from the Reachian group despite having settled near M'ron.<br /> <br /> From the sands, As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling isn't one to sit idle long. Indeed, she has already started to mark her battle-lines in the sands as she draws herself straight from her egg. And then she's charging them, directly towards the oldest candidate on the sands. Even Gisele's worrying at the fabric stops entirely as she holds herself still under the bright green's intense regard.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Entangle the Stars Bronze has a big decision to make. As he moves across the sands with grace uncharacteristic of the newly hatched, his eyes are already examining the faces. One might think, as a bronze, he would immediately discard the girls, but his eyes pass over them just as they do the males. He never draws too near the candidates, but rather looks from a distance at the lot.<br /> <br /> And Jocelyn actually laughs, caught up in the feelings arising from watching her first post-Impression hatching and the amusement elicited by Silva's observation. &quot;There were ''almost'' that many when we Impressed, you know, &quot; she points out, but it comes out friendly enough. &quot;You'd never seen one before you stood, did - &quot; And abruptly she leans forward as that green charges to Gisele, one hand reaching across the bluerider to make to tug at Quint's wrist. &quot;Harper!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The plump ecru of All You Knead Egg expands like rising dough. Egg, of course, lacks the same flexibility so the expansion of the brown within, stretching in all directions at once creates confetti of his shell and leaves him tumbling back, right into the quaking orderly squares of Nine Patch Egg. In the end, it proves to be a boon to the exhausted looking blue who spills right along with his clutchmate. The noises of distress from the pairing rise, but both seem to manage to untangle themselves from the other with only minor scratches, and indeed, help is close at hand in the form of three candidates who unwisely rushed forward to try to help. They escape unscathed, though two of the three end up with a lifemate, but then that's what they came for, wasn't it? If not, too late now!<br /> <br /> &quot;Is this your first time ''watching''?&quot; Quint's finally distracted from the sands enough to ask, glancing to both Silva and Jocelyn in curiosity. The glance catches sight of a familiar bluerider and her companions, the harper lifting a hand in greeting to Jo and the other Reachians, before Jocelyn's tug draws his attention back -- though not so much to the dragon as to where she's headed, holding his breath, displaying a tension not usually so visible in the harper's demeanor.<br /> <br /> It must be boring in the VIP section, because Farideh seems to actually be ''laughing'' at something K'del says and then leans in to hear whatever the portly man at her side has to say about the hatchlings below.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well.... ''yeah'', of course. I mean, like....&quot; It's not like SOMEONE (Jocelyn) is old enough for flights yet. So there haven't been any hatchings to ''watch''. Silva doens't quite get the point of the tugging, because she's staring at Farideh and K'del. &quot;Did Farideh just like... ''laugh''?!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon lifts his head, maybe at the feeling of being assessed from afar, or maybe it's because he catches sight of the little green's battle lines - something draws his attention back to the sands. Caught so that even the sounds of distress doesn't phase him so much as to ensure he's steps aside.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande...is afraid. Not of the baby dragons, but of losing his precious FREEDOM. Each agonizing moment, each dragonet makes his throat tighten, his heart race more, his sweat near-literally flow from pores. His family is nearly forgotten in the internal war, the teen poised on the cusp. Stay or go?<br /> <br /> From the sands, White-robed candidates keep getting in the way, and once more Till the End of the Line Brown Hatchling veers away in pursuit of something ''else''. He walks by a small girl with dark curls, stops, and then studies her with intent in his whirling eyes. It is not her that he's looking for, but it's not the stout young man standing at her side either. In frustration, he dashes away from the pair and ambles further down the line, searching.. continuously searching.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the blue and brown tumbled into three of the candidates. Surpressing a faint smile as two of them walk away with a new friend he turns away to ensure nothing is sneaking up on him. Peeking sideways towards Breirande he edges a little closer to perhaps give silent support.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A twitching tail sweeping the sand betrays Entangle the Stars Bronze's impatience. Decisions aren't to be made lightly. This candidate or that? Her? No, him? It might seem a portent of doom that he's so still for so long with his gaze finally angled and fixed on a tall, muscular young man and those in his periphery. At last, a single forepaw draws up in what might be a beckoning gesture to encourage the man across the distance that separates them. That seems to signal decision, for rainbows swirl swiftly in the bronze's many-faceted eyes and Impression is made.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's &quot;Oh!&quot; in surprise at the way All You Knead Egg hatches leads to a grin and a glance toward Taeliyth at some silent remark from the gold. Her head lowers and nudges at Leczuth. Did he ''see'' that one? The goldrider steps a little forward as the candidates move to help the tangled, some concern showing in her expression, but it all turns out well and that has her exhaling her relief.<br /> <br /> Spotting Quint's wave, Jo grins with an indulgent nod his way as she settles in a seat close to the group. Jocelyn and Silva would get nodded greetings each too before she looks on at the Impression on the sands made with a few nodded murmuring words with Kaitlin.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele and As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling continue to stare each other down for a moment, but in the end it is the former that gives in first, looking away. The green takes that defeat with a huff, turning away herself and continuing to pick her way down the lines for her next challenge.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;What, no blood?&quot; N'rov murmurs, a laughing undernote to his voice that carries his own relief... before he makes it all scratchy. &quot;Candidates these days, they have it so easy. Why, in ''our'' day...'<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;Ancient times,&quot; Dahlia observes in a low voice, though she doesn't dare look back to N'rov.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's turn is next in the rotation of weyrlingmaster staff that are seeing the weyrlings to the barracks, and so it is she that steps forward to tell Br'and, very sympathetically, &quot;Too late. Follow me.&quot; She even crooks a finger, in case he can't understand the English right now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Valiant effort though he has given the task, Till the End of the Line Brown grows weary of the search, his movements becoming sloppy and a little agitated as he wanders through the white-robed candidates. His frustration hangs heavy on his small shoulders and sags those wide set wing sails, and he trudges along dutifully. Then, something draws his attention from this march, brightening his countenance, his eyes, and lifting those drooped wings. He sprints forward and nearly runs headlong into a tall, blonde-haired teenager; his eyes are on ''the prize''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Low, both of them are low, and so is N'rov's silent smirk. But then, given that brown, there just might be a crash ahead.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Unbeweavable Egg has finally rolled itself out of its pile of sand through the efforts of the hatchling within, but the thumps and taps from within the shell haven't done more than to create little cracks here and there. While the hatchling's effort's continue, it's clutchsister finds success in flopping out of the remains of In the Round Egg, only managing to destroy half the shell in her daring escape. A second green joins the first as Unbeweavable Egg splits apart at long last and the two play a game of seek and find, finding their lifemates waiting among the remaining candidates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first response is to reach out into the nothingness before him, and yet feet are dragged across the sands as the chains of his old life fall behind him in favor of what lies //ahead//. &quot;D'aeo.&quot; He tests his new name, sounds it out on his tongue in the barest breath before he is beckoned and claimed. <br /> <br /> &quot;Zvaezdiyth.&quot; A trip of syllables that yet come out perfect, a mouthful. And his hands come to rest on starry-bronze hide and a sigh escapes. Still, no one sees how his hand shakes, right?! Impression has only somewhat quashed the awkward. Just a wee. &quot;Right. I'm supposed to do something...&quot; As if in a dream, he lifts his head and - what, exactly?<br /> <br /> Quint hasn't any attention to spare the Reachian dignitaries; he's actually leaning forward in his seat. When the green turns away from his sister, there's an exhaled breath that sounds suspiciously like relief from the harper, tension fading from his posture.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan fidgeting and shuffling is increasing in small increments the longer the hatching continues. Time seems to be moving both quickly and too slowly all at once for the Baker apprentice turned candidate. As people around him impress to leave him slightly off by himself a bare hint of an uncertain frown etches into his expression. It's a fleeting one that he squelches in time to call out quiet congratulations towards the latest impresses.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is calm, reserved Pasna that comes for Daemon with the answer to that question, saying, &quot;He'll need to be fed. We have food in the barracks.&quot; She will even lead the way, not trusting him to find it on his own in the daze of the moment.<br /> <br /> Weyrbred Jocelyn has undoubtedly watched many a hatching, but she's too busy watching what's going on below with a side-look for Quint's posture to follow whatever's captured Silva's attention about their weyrleaders. And as the green moves on, she deflates slightly in her seat, lips pursing. She'll be disappointed for Gisele, even if the candidate's brother doesn't seem to be. And she says so: &quot;There may yet be another.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon blinks at Pasna, and nods. &quot;Right. Uh. Food? This way?&quot; He's still learning how you ''talk'' to a dragon. And reeling. But out he goes!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, turn! Brieirand RUN! Run for your freedom! Except that, as he staring wide-eyed at Ninwayzan, then pivoting about to do exactly that...he's run down by a dragonet, and falls in a heap to the Sands. Trying not to scream like a little girl, limbs and body flailing to protect himself from the little brown predator... What?! Still huge-eyed and gasping for breath, the teen stares up into Kahvaroeth's rainbow eyes...and turns aside as he suddenly throws up all over the sands. Ewwww.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The adventure that As True As An Arrow Green has carried on with must come to an end eventually; there are, after all, only so many candidates to inspect with her thorough regard. There's the lower caverns girl paused at but walked past, and then the boy from Ruatha, who stumbles backwards and is dismissed. Then, it happens as she stops suddenly and quirks her head as if listening to something that only she can hear, before she just as quickly changes her direction with an abruptness that has her rushing off towards one last candidate. She stops in front of a baker, taking a deep breath as her eyes whirl up at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's expression is quite comical as it goes from trying to hide disappointment to suddenly being quite bright and open. His eyes stare unfocused briefly as he reaches out to touch the green who is there oh so suddenly. &quot;Oh!&quot; he says weakly. &quot;I've been here all along.&quot; he pauses. &quot;I'm hungry too!&quot;<br /> It takes a moment, ''moments'', longer for the harper to find his voice. &quot;Perhaps,&quot; Quint replies, noncommittally, to Jocelyn, his gaze glued to the sands.<br /> <br /> Silva shakes off her suprise and turns back to Jocelyn and Quint. &quot;Does she like... want to impress?&quot; Yes, Silva will care about something outside for just a moment. Quint's sister.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is a distinctive, disbelieving huff that escapes from Yuanth as she stares up at Ay'zan, but then she's distracted by the approach of the Weyrlingmaster as Olivya arrives to escort them off the sands. &quot;I have food ready for her; you should have ate before,&quot; is said as if picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. But, likely, there will be food for Ay'zan too where Olivya leads.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fort's Weyrleaders draw the remaining candidates to them, N'rov standing at Mirinda's shoulder. They have quiet words of commiseration but also of appreciation for the candidates' being here, for their ''trying'', for the difference it may have meant. All the eggs hatched, with none left to take ''between''; all the hatchlings are healthy; ''they'' are healthy too, and will live to Stand again if their ages suit and they so choose (and if they weren't too much of a pain, but for the moment that can go unsaid). Those who came from holds may return, but they'll always have this to remember it all by. This, and ''food'', that interrupted meal: time to finish, and feast!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele doesn't linger on the sands, without a lifemate. She only barely makes it all the way through N'rov's speech before she retreats quickly.<br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's a bit unwilling to take his eyes off Yuanth though he does so briefly as Olivya approaches. &quot;Wasn't hungry.&quot; he mumbles apologetically. &quot;C'mon Yuanth.&quot; her name rolls easily off his tongue. &quot;Let's go find food.&quot; for her at the very least.<br /> <br /> Eyes more gray than blue lift from the sands to regard Quint evenly at Silva's question, eyebrows lifting. &quot;Was her Impression wanted?&quot; Jocelyn could be asking the same question as her fellow weyrling as the final pairs are made save for the pointed way she looks at the harper afterward, glancing down again in time to watch the candidate they're discussing make a quick exit.<br /> <br /> Quint shakes his head for a moment at Silva's question. Then: &quot;She thinks she does,&quot; he finally says, gaze flickering towards the Weyrleaders as they give their speech, though only briefly: watching his sister retreat off the sands, instead.<br /> <br /> Silva's a little more serious now, &quot;It's not what she would expect.&quot; Silva, actually sounding adult. &quot;I think I need to go for a moment, I'll come find you a little later?&quot; That to Quint, before Silva starts edging her way out.<br /> <br /> Jocelyn watches Silva depart with a look that's thoughtful, attention returning to Quint after with a direct stare now that the younger rider's no longer blocking part of her visual field. &quot;She thinks she does, &quot; she repeats, expectantly. &quot;Are you glad that she didn't?&quot; As people around them start to get up and head for the entry, she gathers her skirts and rises. &quot;Are you going to the celebration? Going to find her?&quot;<br /> <br /> The hatching is over and that means there's nothing more to see. Nothing more that Farideh could want to see anyway one the dragons have all been led away. She makes a little more small talk with her sea neighbor and even allows him to help her into her cloak again, but then she's following K'del towards the stairs. It's not coincidence that her eyes skim over the High Reachians, lingering particularly on Jo and finally, Jocelyn. There's no words, and soon, she's back out in the snow, presumably headed to the feast.<br /> <br /> Quint gives a silent nod towards Silva, and habit makes him stand as the blue weyrling does too. &quot;Irrelevant now, wouldn't you say?&quot; comes the harper's response to Jocelyn, an attempt at softening it with one of his familiar, easy smiles. &quot;Yes,&quot; the latter question of the gold weyrling's is answered more directly. &quot;You?&quot; he offers her an elbow in anticipation.<br /> <br /> Relevant or not, Jocelyn's stare remains, brow furrowing for that easy, oft-seen smile. &quot;You certainly seem to think so, &quot; she says at last, neutrally, reaching to take his elbow after a momentary pause. &quot;I should put in an appearance, although I don't expect to stay for terribly long.&quot; If the line of her jaw tightens briefly when she meets Farideh's eyes, well. They'll see each other soon enough.<br /> |Categories=Hatching Logs, Search Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Taeliyth_and_Leczuth%27s_Eggs_Hatch!&diff=85142 2016-02-28T21:58:03Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Dahlia{{!}}Taeliyth, Dahlia, Estanei, A'sran{{!}}Leczuth, A'sran, N'rov, Mirinda, Quint, Farideh, K'del, Jocelyn, Jo, Silva, Jo{{!}}M'ron, T'gar, Olivya, Kh'tyr, Br'and, Br'and{{!}}Kahvaroeth, D'aeo, D'aeo{{!}}Zvaezdiyth, Ay'zan, Ay'zan{{!}}Yuanth, Catling, Catling{{!}}Riyoth<br /> |what=Taeliyth and Leczuth's eggs hatch.<br /> |where=Galleries, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr<br /> |day=18<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.27<br /> |weather=Snow.<br /> |type=Log<br /> |log=Though it's been known for some days that the eggs are nearing hatching, it isn't until dinner is underway in the Living Cavern that the unmistakable sound of humming dragons rises from where the snow continues to fall pleasantly outside. The sound grows as more and more dragons give voice to announcing the imminent event: the eggs are hatching!<br /> <br /> Up on the ledge, a russet brown hums while his rider has claimed a few non-VIP seats as close to the action as she can. She has a notepad in one hand and a pouch in the other and the people who surround her seem anywhere between agitated (in the throwing up kind of way) to excited (in also possibly the throwing up kind of way). &quot;Only a few more minutes left for bets, children,&quot; says the lanky woman who doesn't look all that far from the diminutive she's tossed at some men who are much much much older than her.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Taeliyth's hum is with verve. Her eyes whirl swiftly, her excitement evident in voice and pose. Though she stays well back from the now animated eggs, sitting close to Leczuth, with the occasional nudge of her head to his shoulder or neck as if to point out this thing or that, if he hasn't seen - or just to make sure he ''did'' see, her mood is unmistakable: hatchings are fun!<br /> <br /> Dahlia's mood might be buoyed by her lifemate's, for standing where she's at on the sands with the other leaders of the Weyr and A'sran, she's bouncing on her boot tips like a child before the curtain draws a Harper concert. &quot;It's time,&quot; is practically a squee to no one in particular, her energy too much to be contained in any stately state, wide grin offered to all her companions in turn (all of whom will, inevitably, have their arm grasped, while she bounces and points at something new) by the end of this.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It should come as little surprise to anyone who knows Taeliyth that her eggs aren't about to keep watchers waiting long after the humming has begun. Though there's little movements here and there from eggs across the sands as the deafening voice of the Weyr gives notice of the impending arrival of new dragons, including a twitch from the Midas' Puzzle Egg, the real start of the show comes as Fuzzy Wuzzy Egg and Tee-Tee Egg prove they're not as soft and snuggley at they appear, the crack of shell slamming into shell and both shattering in a spray of shard and fluid onto the surrounding sand, spilling a blue and a green inelegantly onto the sands. It takes each a moment to get their bearings but both have a certain verve to their step as they each stumble in different directions and find their lifemates in swift succession. If this is a portent for the hatching on the whole, even with only just enough candidates to give a fair choice to the hatchlings, then it's a good one.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first move onto the sands is to give a bow to the clutchparents, and from far enough away that it hints to his natural reticence when it comes to what's proper with dragons. The fact that the show starts immediately has the young man stumbling in the sand just for a step. Quick look around: no one saw that, ahem. &quot;They're fast,&quot; a muttered comment as steps less sure carry him forward. Ever forward.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's job as Weyrlingmaster might be secure; she gets all of the candidates (who wanted to come) to the sands and bowing to the dam and sire on time for those eggs to crack. But those red lips of hers are pressed into a tight line as she settles into the sidelines to watch, even as she nods to an assistant to go get the dazed weyrlings that hadn't had time to settle into place.<br /> <br /> The weather isn't problematic enough to keep people from coming to the hatching, but it ''is'' snow and it ''does'' stick. High Reaches' acting weyrwoman is brushing at the white stuff on her fur-lined cloak when she finally arrives with her weyrleader. She gives up the gambit when they arrive at their designated seats in the dignitaries' section, removing said cloak altogether and situating herself on one of the cushioned seats; where upon she arranges her deep blue skirts with a polite smile to those people on either side of K'del and herself. &quot;Lovely evening for a hatching,&quot; she murmurs conversationally to the man at her elbow.<br /> <br /> From the sands, For Breirande... Well, okay; it's eye bugging time, since the hatchlings are instantly erupting. He's barely out on the Sands, bowing rigidly to the clutchparents, and unobtrusively seeking to 'hide' behind other candidates when it starts happening. Let the *true* sweating begin!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Tawny-bronze Leczuth is a silent sentinel next to his mate, allowing her exuberance to take the lead. His whirling eyes seem to take in both the quickly-filling galleries and the eggs all that once, and that before the candidates have even made it into his line of vision. He tries to see everything at once, though his projected emotions are more territorial - and proud! - than the excitement that Taeliyth shows.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Spirit's Silhouette Egg flutters, then shudders, then pops, leaving a dainty green to claw her way out of the hole poked by her muzzle, while the braided arcs of gold unravel on Caged Jewel Egg to reveal a sizable brown. The latter pauses by the former as she shakes the last bit of shard off her foot, before he's off and moving toward the ring of white-robed candidates. The green ends up finding her girl first, while the brown finds an exotic lifemate from outside the Weyr some moments later. Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it is actually ''black'' as the darkness spreads across the shell, except that the blackness is actually cracks across the surface as it continues to rock.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran stands at ease next to Dahlia and their weyrleaders, idling the time before the eggs actually start hatching by watching people shuffle into the galleries; there's only so much interest he can feign in wobbling eggs, ok!? His eyes briefly drop to the goldrider-on-her-toes, and his mouth quirks into a smile, but he's quickly back to eyeing the hatching-goers.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's just made it in time for the first shell to break; he escorts Mirinda, laughing, with a low relieved mutter that they're ''alive''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan is amongst the line of candidates emerging into the sands. Swallowing once he tries to push down his growing nerves. Remembering just in time to bow to the clutch parents, a proper bow that speaks of plenty of training, he now steps to join the others. Deep breath and 'Oh!' is exclaimed as his gaze takes in eggs shattering and hatchlings already upon the sands and finding life mates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Some of that blackness in Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it isn't actually black at all, as that darkness seems to ''move'' from within that ever thickening middle and widening crevices. The hatchling is precise in their movements, however, as it works at the cracks until the egg falls apart to reveal that darkness as brown. Once he has achieved his new state, freed from the shell, then his attention turns to meditate on the vast array of sands and candidates before him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; The Master Within Brown &gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Coltish to a fault, this tall, dark brown has a whimsical air about him <br /> from his muzzle's dished profile all the way down, and ''down'' to his <br /> small paws. Those extremities of his are even darker than the rest, as <br /> though he'd waded hip-high in ink and trailed his tail behind him too, <br /> even splashing it up the spars of his all too expansive wings. It's a <br /> second look that might find subtler variations, the depth polished away in<br /> his softer places to tawny warmth: the velvety curve of his muzzle and the<br /> vulnerable indentation behind his jaw, and indistinct dapplings along his <br /> underbelly and the fine sails of his wings like so many ghostly <br /> fingerprints. He has a lot to grow into, not just his bony frame, before <br /> he can approach anything like grace; in the meantime he carries himself <br /> with slow, careful movements. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's first move, rather than bowing, is to lift her gaze to the stands, squinting into the dimmer seats of the galleries for a moment as she searches--. But then she has to turn away to bow, to move to settle herself into a safe place as dragons spill from their eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon is quick on his feet, ensuring he doesn't get himself hurt especially when that dainty green has to claw her way out. Can't he just stand over here? All the way in the back? &quot;Geez, she wasn't kidding in saying don't get hurt.&quot; He half-turns, &quot;Did that one-?&quot; But then there's another hatching. It's too much, almost, to keep straight.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's eyes meet Mirinda's, briefly, and then N'rov's, but the Weyrlingmaster doesn't move to join the Weyrleaders, not where she has to stay on her toes to help with the chaos on the sands and seeing weyrlings off of them.<br /> <br /> &quot;Dear fuck,&quot; exclaims Estanei, staring at the sands even while marks are being shoved into her hand. &quot;No no, it's too late now. You lost quite a bit there, D'vere. First wasn't, in fact, a bronze. Check that bronze ego of yours at the door.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's hands clap together in delight as the first shells reveal their dragons. It's A'sran's turn to be grabbed on the arm first. &quot;''Look''!&quot; as if he's not already looking, she tugs his sleeve, smile just about as wide as it's ever been seen. &quot;''Dragons''!&quot; as if she might've feared they'd hatch enormous tunnelsnakes instead. She at least lets go of his sleeve to bounce beside him without detriment to his wardrobe, though her fingers twist into the fabric of her green skirts, the dress a lovely thing for this day of celebration, if perhaps a few turns out of style.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Finally The Master Within Brown moves again, more than his first deep breaths and the extrication of his long dark tail. He's picky, step by stilted step, carefulness the only reason he doesn't fall with those long and untried legs. He's picky, but also increasingly bright-eyed as bits of shell drop away in his footsteps like so much ink-and-yellow snow. He's picky, but that goes for the candidates too now that he's spotted them; he doesn't so much approach them as walk along just inside their lines, ''searching''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling nearly stumbles as she makes the change from hard stone to soft copper under her feet, but she recovers the forward momentum into a deep bow towards the clutch-parents. Then she delicately makes certain she is not likely to trip on anything, and she then makes her way towards the eggs, stopping a respectful, hopeful distance away.<br /> <br /> Amongst the High Reaches contingent is a small group who arrived earlier. There's a bit of discussion at the entranceway; perhaps largely owing to Quint's easy though probably-not-serious suggestion: &quot;You ''could'' come and sit with us,&quot; to Jocelyn, before his gaze sweeps the galleries and he indicates a spot down the ways, following closely on Silva's heels to the indicated seats.<br /> <br /> From the sands, 'Poor' Breirande. To relieve his overwhelmed brain from goggling at all those baby dragons spilling out of shells and rambling around choosing their lifemates, he's jerking his gaze up to the galleries, desperately seeking his mother. Luckily, he notes her quite soon, and the elegant-looking woman smiles proudly down to her child, while 'Rand's younger sibs waves and grin at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg wobbles in its wallow made of sand, warming to the thrum that reverberates through the cavern. Cream and Egg's occupant goes from statue-still to animated in a way that make the shell seem to expand in what might be a lazy stretch within, trembling for a moment as might muscles pushed to their limit. Then the breath of life so suddenly evident in the subtly speckled egg is lost as in exhale and it's terribly, utterly motionless again.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran laughs at the goldrider's exuberance, but he cannot quite help straightening his sleeve when she relinquishes it. He ''does'' step closer and leans forward, taking in the hatchlings that has thus far hatched. &quot;I hope you did not place any ''real'' bets on the results,&quot; he says, but his head lifts and his eyes slide back to N'rov. Him, too.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon inches closer now that some of the immediate chaos dies down. He checks out where some of his fellow candidates are, then chances another few steps closer to the dragonets. Though once, he half-turns and looks back at the gawking crowds in the galleries. And //that// seems to freak him out more than the dragonets, for it's face-first back to the sands!<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's gaze cuts across Olivya's with a sudden grin at its heels; he rubs his hands together, as though still unused to the heat after the snow without, or as though it might burn off some of the adrenaline. Then he's still, still as that speckled egg. He wouldn't, surely, have bet against ''those''.<br /> From the sands, A small boy from the lower caverns, surely at the youngest limit for candidates, sidles behind his older sister, shifting uncomfortably in his sandals. &quot;Ninena, I we-,&quot; but anything else he says turns into an inaudible mumble.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown keeps walking, not quick about it but as methodical as he is with the rest of his search. Though his eyes whirl red, it's less erratically so than with most hatchlings, and though increasing ''need'' is evinced in how deeply and closely he looks, desperation doesn't take him over. Once he pauses by an older candidate, his head quirked in quizzical interest. But the next time he pauses, it's with a step forward, towards one of the youngest boys of the Weyr.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;I did!&quot; Dahlia volunteers to A'sran of bets even though she wasn't the one he was addressing, &quot;But only a little,&quot; she adds, glancing ''guiltily'' to the two Onyx riders in between the coos that are for no one at the hatchlings creating chaos some distance away.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan shifts his feet from side to side with his gaze sweeping the eggs near constantly. Only partially aware of the candidates around him he spares a quick sideways glance towards Daemon briefly.<br /> <br /> Sands coats and such Silva's dress is ''nice''. There's hints of blueish-silver trim that totally match her blue outside. A few steps in as she casts a glance back to Quint and Jocelyn, &quot;You know, like, if you ''really'' wanted to I wouldn't like... really mind.&quot; It's an invitation. Their seats are PRobABLY not as good as Jocelyn's but... friendsish?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's fingers worry away at a piece of cloth between them, her attention kept stubbornly on the eggs and hatchlings as they pair off. Eventually, though, she glances back up again to the galleries, this time searching until she does find-- yes, ''him''. A trembling smile touches her lips then, one that likely was meant to be more reassuring.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon might have managed to give Ninwayzan a subtle brofist of encouragement if his attention wasn't mostly on the eggs and dragonets. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling licks her lips, finding a place with reasonably good footing in the sand. Then she goes still again, watching. She twirls her fingers, nervous fingers, in a lock of her hair, then runs her fingers through the tangles.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown finishes with his intent study of one young Fortian boy only to turn away disappointed. His gait carefully picks across the sands, retreading steps already trod and taking a different turn at one particular juncture to inspect a candidate thus unnoticed. There is a method to his madness, a pattern discernible from aerial vantage points in the deep imprinted paths of his small paws. It's here, at this one, a petite girl with copper hair, that he perks up, suddenly interested. And then, for all of the world to see, there is the tell-tale sign of Impression as his eyes whirl in rainbow colors.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Cream and Egg briefly defies gravity as it leaves the sands fully for a brief moment after what must have been a monumental effort from the dragon within. As the creamy shell slaps back onto golden sand, the black flecks prove to be shatter points and the egg explodes on impact. In its wake is left a constellation-kissed bronze, dripping egg goo onto the sands, his look distinctly vexed. Ew. Goo.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Entangle the Stars Bronze &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Kinetic energy radiates through this dragonet's youthfully exaggerated <br /> proportions, as though it might set the nebula of his hide-- its hazy <br /> clouds of light and contrastingly swart shadows obscuring a burnished <br /> copper-bronze backdrop-- into full-fledged and characteristically <br /> unpredictable motion. Gravity might well have drawn the darkest hues <br /> towards the central part of his frame, leaving his extremities bright and <br /> nearly golden at the tips of headknobs and claws, but for the billow of <br /> deep, dusted rust across his wingsails that escapes even that. Clusters of<br /> stars stipple pale constellations across his top-line, traversing from his<br /> muzzle over his neckridges and wingspars, all the way down to the spade of<br /> his tail. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran's grin starts when he's staring at the weyrleader, but his gaze ends up focused on Dahlia. &quot;That hideous orange egg?&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Everyday Ingenuity Egg buckles at the same moment as The Image Within becomes, explosively, the Image Without. Sticky bronze wings burst through the shell of the former while the blue kicks his dark egg's remnants out of his way. The blue is on a mission where the bronze seems like he has no where to go, at first. Impression for the blue lands him a blonde girl while eventually the bronze settles on one of the taller boys in the class.<br /> <br /> Hatchlings are already afoot when Jocelyn arrives at the same time as several others from High Reaches, shedding her cloak upon entering the hatching grounds with an uncomfortable touch to the too-warm neckline of her own, blue dress. &quot;I'd like that, &quot; she says unexpectedly to Quint and Silva while they're paused in the entry, following as they navigate for a seat with a glance down to where her weyrleaders are seated. She's half-staring below while moving around people with mutters of excuse-mes and pardon-mes, exhaling with some relief as she can finally turn the whole of her attention onto the motions down on the sands once settled.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's reply is to A'sran comes with a glance askance and a murmur of, &quot;Giant, irascible bronzes.&quot; He must know the ones she means. A moment later though, she tosses him a wink. She's not telling, apparently.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon isn't sure //what// the proper etiquette is, but, &quot;Congratulations!&quot; seems to be a good response to the Impressions around him. His smile is tight only because of nervousness for sincerity lurks yet in his blue eyes. Then another dragon is hatching and with it even more, and once again, Daemon's doing the hibbie-jibbie-stay-out-of-the-way dance.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg stops moving abruptly, as cracks start to form at the base and spread upwards with due diligence. Meanwhile, nearly identical blues spill from Sawed Scene Egg and Folds and Wrinkles Egg within moments of one another. Both are up and moving and neither seems inclined to hurry their decisions, ranging across the sands back and forth in an almost synchronized pattern of search, each keen not to miss anything. When they find their lifemates, the two Impressees couldn't be more different: one an older, slender Monacoan and the other a very young, stocky local. The Charcoal and Graphite Egg smudges further into the sand as it wobbles in the sand. The hatchling within must be determined, as it does not even take a second's break in its continued rocking.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Egg goo is awful. Entangle the Stars Bronze Hatchling looks pitiful even with his obvious disdain for his ''drowned'' state. With forepaws touching the sand, he shakes free the worst of it, showering the nearby eggs. Now that he's as reasonably non-drippy as he can manage, he can turn his eyes curiously toward the white-robed figures ringing the eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya is the first of the weyrlingmaster staff to step forward towards the newly-Impressed Catling, nodding simply towards the young girl before she commands quietly, &quot;Come with me; we have food and the barracks ready for you both.&quot; Her gaze sweeps to N'rov yet again, though, as she does so and she curves a brow at him. (This is probably how all those rumors got started, not at all because Liv's plahyer.)<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran is too polite to strangle a woman on the sands while her dragon's eggs are hatching, but he is probably thinking it. Definitely.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande's nod to his mother, sibs, and his greenriding step-father is a jerky, harsh thing, given his increasing agitation inside, but his resolve is screwed up another notch when he sees that pride in his mom's face. Looking back to Sands, he finds more dragons, more Impressions. Catling is one? Gulp!<br /> <br /> From the sands, The cracks on surface of the fragile-looking, Fire-Sculpted Egg grow and the shell simultaneously pulses, but then with a singular, heroic shove of darkened limbs, the dragonet within sets itself free and stands proudly in the remnants. He lifts his head resolutely, surveying his surroundings, not the least bit set aback by the sand and bits of shell stuck to his brown hide.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov exhales as that egg not only moves but breaks, but he has the remaining eggs to eye, gaze narrowed as though he could force them all to rock and hatch through sheer force of will. Luckily for Mirinda, he doesn't seem inclined to strangle either.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Till the End of the Line Brown &gt;---------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Rich chocolate hide stretches over the small bones of this runt-sized <br /> brown, though potential awaits in the wideness of his russet-tinged wings <br /> and the ungainliness of his large-footed amble. With his warm coloring and<br /> sleek, satiny hide, he carries himself with a certain self-assurance <br /> despite those youthful disadvantages. His large and bright eyes, overset <br /> by sooty eyeridges, are a focal point of his finely crafted head, and are <br /> at odds with the perpetual, resting smirk of his mouth. Dark smatterings <br /> of copper and carmine scatter across his flanks, deepening into a large <br /> deposit of rusted shadows that stretches upward from his gleaming slate <br /> claws into the hollows of his wings. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling sinks to her knees, a gasp coming out of her mouth, then a soft, wordless cry. &quot;Riyoth? Riyoth.&quot; Joyous now. &quot;His name is Riyoth!&quot; A shout, triumphant, and she rises to her feet. &quot;I am ready,&quot; she says, putting her hand out to him, stroking him, then motioning towards Olivya. THis way....&quot;<br /> <br /> There's a smile for the bluerider's words, though it disappears quickly from Quint's face, as he instead glances to the sands, gaze flickering over the occupants before locating a familiar blonde figure. He exhales a breath, waiting until both Silva and Jocelyn are seated before he sinks down. For once, he doesn't have eyes for the dragons so much as for a particular occupant of the sands. &quot;That's her there, the blonde standing a bit aways,&quot; he says, with a grin. &quot;My sister.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The peculiar veneer of Jumbled Lights Eggs is broken when a bronze foot pushes through the shell, a few more shakes making it crack wide to let the dragon out. His path takes him past the trembling Windblown Wish Egg which crumples just after he passes it, revealing its dark green denizen. The bronze finds his lad first, while the green takes some time seeking her lifemate, though one is eventually selected from the offered candidates with a joyful creel. The valiant battle between the Charcoal and Graphite Egg continues undaunted by either time or the hatching of other eggs, though surely one side must be weakening by now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan simply has no words, for once, for this. Taking his his first hatching ever and doing it from the sands has left him nearly speechless indeed. Shuffling a bit to the right he peers around to see where the brown went and whom he is by. More movement of another one has him looking away quickly right after Catling announces Riyadh's name. So much to see! For the moment he focuses his gaze on the ones still moving in particular the bronze.<br /> <br /> Silva's short enough that those standing in front of her get a GLARE. Ugh. Stop being stupid people, sit down so the shorties can see. An impatient tap of Silva's toe against the floor as she edges around to get a look down below. &quot;It's like, a little different view from up here, isn't it?&quot; To Quint and Jocelyn.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon sneaks a few looks here and there, watching as Catling is lead off and studiously ignoring the crowds behind him. Does he look sick a little? Maaaaaybe, but it's patently obvious he's doing his best to hold it. &quot;Riyoth... Strong name.&quot; Talking to himself. First sign, people. There are too many dragons for him to focus on just one, so he doesn't try but instead works to keep them all in his field of vision.<br /> <br /> &quot;That one, &quot; Jocelyn repeats with a glance to Quint for confirmation, turning back again in time to see Catling get to her feet with her brown. Her eyebrows lift, and there's certainly some surprise evident in her expression - which tugs nevertheless into a small smile, particularly at Silva's remark. &quot;Only a little? Certainly less nerve-wracking.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, breathe. Breirande STAY. As dragonets whiz (or sit) by, he's very slowly and very subconsciously stepping back, back on Sands, and is only stopped in retreat by stumbling in them, jerking to right himself. By this point, his eyes should be literally exploding from his head, his limbs and eye twitching on and off. Flight seems very, very near...mother or not.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Till The End of the Line Brown Hatchling takes his time in leaving the shards of his egg behind. His process is slow and his steps deliberate, but he eventually, warily begins the arduous task of searching out his lifemate. He moves determinedly towards one group of candidates, studying them with a cautious stance; they are not to be, they are not ''his''. And on he marches, towards another group who has caught his wandering eye.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov has more hatchlings to eye, now, just as assessingly as before. A brief swing of his gaze might compare the latest sire and dam anew... or just see how they're dealing with this first clutch of theirs. A'sran, then, and Dahlia, and a murmur into Mirinda's ear. &quot;Think that one's going to run,&quot; is only part of it.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's, &quot;Aww,&quot; is for no one in particular as her hands clap together again, bouncing onto her toes. It's possible the initial excitement of the hatching is starting to wear off because the junior is becoming a little more quiet, though her lifemate still watches with marked interest. She ''might'' be counting down the eggs til there are none left and she's officially ''free''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya returns to the sands with blood already staining her white, sleeveless tunic. Luckily, it isn't hers. Her first response, of course, is to survey the wreckage that has managed to happen in her brief absence and start giving orders to assistants, before she starts skirting around the edge of the clutch to get a better position. She seems to be watching Breirande more than most, likely expecting the running as well.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm,&quot; Quint makes a noise in a way to suggest that he's listening to Silva without perhaps actually listening. He hasn't the weyrling's recent memories of their own hatching to muse over, after all. It's only the impatient tap of blue weyrling's toe that pulls his attention from the sands, however briefly; &quot;Here,&quot; he says, gesturing, &quot;Swap with me.&quot; He's tall enough to see past those in front, after all.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The likeness of the bird etched in the colors of the Charcoal and Graphite Egg is pierced cleanly through its imaginary heart with one sharp dragonet claw from within. Then the egg begins rocking again as the hatchling inside continues the fight to tear apart the egg that cages her inside as the eyes of the world watch her. It is a luminescent green that emerges victoriously, if exhausted, from the confrontation as she tumbles out of her shell, setting herself free into the uncertain world.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; As True As An Arrow Green &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> She isn't small, for all that she's green: all elongated curves rounded by<br /> baby fat, the more remarkable for the spirited way she holds her head and <br /> the brilliance of her hue. That luminescent green, spilt along her <br /> generous torso and over high arched and gently sloped back haunches, might<br /> appear grassy in another world; here, it's liquidly glossy as though just <br /> beneath the surface of a sunlit lake. A patterned braid is faint down the <br /> length of her spine, a matte relief amidst the fluid coloring, visible <br /> only in the ''right'' light. She's all the brighter for the darkness she <br /> does possess, near-mahogany shadows that stripe behind her swept-back <br /> neckridges and beneath the lithe length of her tail; dark as well are her <br /> tiny paws' claws, dark and ''pointed''. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Swapping with Quint is done before Quint's offer can be done. Even if this does settle Silva next to Jocelyn. At least she can SEE now. &quot;There's like, so many dragons walking around there.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan hasn't yet looked towards the crowd in his effort to watch each dragon in some way. Unable to watch them all of course he also tries to keep them in his field of vision. Bright green eyes follow the bronze before slipping to the brown and finally to a newly hatched green. Here he finds his voice in a low murmur of approval. Still shifting his weight from one foot to the other he seems to be managing his nerves fairly well thus far.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon hides hands that might hold a tremble still by crossing his arms across his chest. He presses his lips together and spares a moment to look at the sand beneath his (hot) sandaled (hot) feet. The crack of another egg, straight through the imaginary heart brings about his attention - back in action. &quot;Just breathe.&quot; It's a mantra. It's keeping him sane. His holdbred is showing, here.<br /> <br /> Naturally, Jo's late but at least she's here. She's quiet in arriving, scanning the stands until she spies Jocelyn with Quint and Silva before shuffling her way over to them. M'ron and Kaitlin trail behind her as she nods to those that look her way before the sand activity gets the brunt of her attention. T'gar is here as well, though he maintains keeping his distance from the Reachian group despite having settled near M'ron.<br /> <br /> From the sands, As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling isn't one to sit idle long. Indeed, she has already started to mark her battle-lines in the sands as she draws herself straight from her egg. And then she's charging them, directly towards the oldest candidate on the sands. Even Gisele's worrying at the fabric stops entirely as she holds herself still under the bright green's intense regard.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Entangle the Stars Bronze has a big decision to make. As he moves across the sands with grace uncharacteristic of the newly hatched, his eyes are already examining the faces. One might think, as a bronze, he would immediately discard the girls, but his eyes pass over them just as they do the males. He never draws too near the candidates, but rather looks from a distance at the lot.<br /> <br /> And Jocelyn actually laughs, caught up in the feelings arising from watching her first post-Impression hatching and the amusement elicited by Silva's observation. &quot;There were ''almost'' that many when we Impressed, you know, &quot; she points out, but it comes out friendly enough. &quot;You'd never seen one before you stood, did - &quot; And abruptly she leans forward as that green charges to Gisele, one hand reaching across the bluerider to make to tug at Quint's wrist. &quot;Harper!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The plump ecru of All You Knead Egg expands like rising dough. Egg, of course, lacks the same flexibility so the expansion of the brown within, stretching in all directions at once creates confetti of his shell and leaves him tumbling back, right into the quaking orderly squares of Nine Patch Egg. In the end, it proves to be a boon to the exhausted looking blue who spills right along with his clutchmate. The noises of distress from the pairing rise, but both seem to manage to untangle themselves from the other with only minor scratches, and indeed, help is close at hand in the form of three candidates who unwisely rushed forward to try to help. They escape unscathed, though two of the three end up with a lifemate, but then that's what they came for, wasn't it? If not, too late now!<br /> <br /> &quot;Is this your first time ''watching''?&quot; Quint's finally distracted from the sands enough to ask, glancing to both Silva and Jocelyn in curiosity. The glance catches sight of a familiar bluerider and her companions, the harper lifting a hand in greeting to Jo and the other Reachians, before Jocelyn's tug draws his attention back -- though not so much to the dragon as to where she's headed, holding his breath, displaying a tension not usually so visible in the harper's demeanor.<br /> <br /> It must be boring in the VIP section, because Farideh seems to actually be ''laughing'' at something K'del says and then leans in to hear whatever the portly man at her side has to say about the hatchlings below.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well.... ''yeah'', of course. I mean, like....&quot; It's not like SOMEONE (Jocelyn) is old enough for flights yet. So there haven't been any hatchings to ''watch''. Silva doens't quite get the point of the tugging, because she's staring at Farideh and K'del. &quot;Did Farideh just like... ''laugh''?!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon lifts his head, maybe at the feeling of being assessed from afar, or maybe it's because he catches sight of the little green's battle lines - something draws his attention back to the sands. Caught so that even the sounds of distress doesn't phase him so much as to ensure he's steps aside.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande...is afraid. Not of the baby dragons, but of losing his precious FREEDOM. Each agonizing moment, each dragonet makes his throat tighten, his heart race more, his sweat near-literally flow from pores. His family is nearly forgotten in the internal war, the teen poised on the cusp. Stay or go?<br /> <br /> From the sands, White-robed candidates keep getting in the way, and once more Till the End of the Line Brown Hatchling veers away in pursuit of something ''else''. He walks by a small girl with dark curls, stops, and then studies her with intent in his whirling eyes. It is not her that he's looking for, but it's not the stout young man standing at her side either. In frustration, he dashes away from the pair and ambles further down the line, searching.. continuously searching.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the blue and brown tumbled into three of the candidates. Surpressing a faint smile as two of them walk away with a new friend he turns away to ensure nothing is sneaking up on him. Peeking sideways towards Breirande he edges a little closer to perhaps give silent support.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A twitching tail sweeping the sand betrays Entangle the Stars Bronze's impatience. Decisions aren't to be made lightly. This candidate or that? Her? No, him? It might seem a portent of doom that he's so still for so long with his gaze finally angled and fixed on a tall, muscular young man and those in his periphery. At last, a single forepaw draws up in what might be a beckoning gesture to encourage the man across the distance that separates them. That seems to signal decision, for rainbows swirl swiftly in the bronze's many-faceted eyes and Impression is made.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's &quot;Oh!&quot; in surprise at the way All You Knead Egg hatches leads to a grin and a glance toward Taeliyth at some silent remark from the gold. Her head lowers and nudges at Leczuth. Did he ''see'' that one? The goldrider steps a little forward as the candidates move to help the tangled, some concern showing in her expression, but it all turns out well and that has her exhaling her relief.<br /> <br /> Spotting Quint's wave, Jo grins with an indulgent nod his way as she settles in a seat close to the group. Jocelyn and Silva would get nodded greetings each too before she looks on at the Impression on the sands made with a few nodded murmuring words with Kaitlin.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele and As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling continue to stare each other down for a moment, but in the end it is the former that gives in first, looking away. The green takes that defeat with a huff, turning away herself and continuing to pick her way down the lines for her next challenge.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;What, no blood?&quot; N'rov murmurs, a laughing undernote to his voice that carries his own relief... before he makes it all scratchy. &quot;Candidates these days, they have it so easy. Why, in ''our'' day...'<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;Ancient times,&quot; Dahlia observes in a low voice, though she doesn't dare look back to N'rov.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's turn is next in the rotation of weyrlingmaster staff that are seeing the weyrlings to the barracks, and so it is she that steps forward to tell Br'and, very sympathetically, &quot;Too late. Follow me.&quot; She even crooks a finger, in case he can't understand the English right now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Valiant effort though he has given the task, Till the End of the Line Brown grows weary of the search, his movements becoming sloppy and a little agitated as he wanders through the white-robed candidates. His frustration hangs heavy on his small shoulders and sags those wide set wing sails, and he trudges along dutifully. Then, something draws his attention from this march, brightening his countenance, his eyes, and lifting those drooped wings. He sprints forward and nearly runs headlong into a tall, blonde-haired teenager; his eyes are on ''the prize''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Low, both of them are low, and so is N'rov's silent smirk. But then, given that brown, there just might be a crash ahead.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Unbeweavable Egg has finally rolled itself out of its pile of sand through the efforts of the hatchling within, but the thumps and taps from within the shell haven't done more than to create little cracks here and there. While the hatchling's effort's continue, it's clutchsister finds success in flopping out of the remains of In the Round Egg, only managing to destroy half the shell in her daring escape. A second green joins the first as Unbeweavable Egg splits apart at long last and the two play a game of seek and find, finding their lifemates waiting among the remaining candidates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first response is to reach out into the nothingness before him, and yet feet are dragged across the sands as the chains of his old life fall behind him in favor of what lies //ahead//. &quot;D'aeo.&quot; He tests his new name, sounds it out on his tongue in the barest breath before he is beckoned and claimed. <br /> <br /> &quot;Zvaezdiyth.&quot; A trip of syllables that yet come out perfect, a mouthful. And his hands come to rest on starry-bronze hide and a sigh escapes. Still, no one sees how his hand shakes, right?! Impression has only somewhat quashed the awkward. Just a wee. &quot;Right. I'm supposed to do something...&quot; As if in a dream, he lifts his head and - what, exactly?<br /> <br /> Quint hasn't any attention to spare the Reachian dignitaries; he's actually leaning forward in his seat. When the green turns away from his sister, there's an exhaled breath that sounds suspiciously like relief from the harper, tension fading from his posture.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan fidgeting and shuffling is increasing in small increments the longer the hatching continues. Time seems to be moving both quickly and too slowly all at once for the Baker apprentice turned candidate. As people around him impress to leave him slightly off by himself a bare hint of an uncertain frown etches into his expression. It's a fleeting one that he squelches in time to call out quiet congratulations towards the latest impresses.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is calm, reserved Pasna that comes for Daemon with the answer to that question, saying, &quot;He'll need to be fed. We have food in the barracks.&quot; She will even lead the way, not trusting him to find it on his own in the daze of the moment.<br /> <br /> Weyrbred Jocelyn has undoubtedly watched many a hatching, but she's too busy watching what's going on below with a side-look for Quint's posture to follow whatever's captured Silva's attention about their weyrleaders. And as the green moves on, she deflates slightly in her seat, lips pursing. She'll be disappointed for Gisele, even if the candidate's brother doesn't seem to be. And she says so: &quot;There may yet be another.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon blinks at Pasna, and nods. &quot;Right. Uh. Food? This way?&quot; He's still learning how you ''talk'' to a dragon. And reeling. But out he goes!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, turn! Brieirand RUN! Run for your freedom! Except that, as he staring wide-eyed at Ninwayzan, then pivoting about to do exactly that...he's run down by a dragonet, and falls in a heap to the Sands. Trying not to scream like a little girl, limbs and body flailing to protect himself from the little brown predator... What?! Still huge-eyed and gasping for breath, the teen stares up into Kahvaroeth's rainbow eyes...and turns aside as he suddenly throws up all over the sands. Ewwww.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The adventure that As True As An Arrow Green has carried on with must come to an end eventually; there are, after all, only so many candidates to inspect with her thorough regard. There's the lower caverns girl paused at but walked past, and then the boy from Ruatha, who stumbles backwards and is dismissed. Then, it happens as she stops suddenly and quirks her head as if listening to something that only she can hear, before she just as quickly changes her direction with an abruptness that has her rushing off towards one last candidate. She stops in front of a baker, taking a deep breath as her eyes whirl up at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's expression is quite comical as it goes from trying to hide disappointment to suddenly being quite bright and open. His eyes stare unfocused briefly as he reaches out to touch the green who is there oh so suddenly. &quot;Oh!&quot; he says weakly. &quot;I've been here all along.&quot; he pauses. &quot;I'm hungry too!&quot;<br /> It takes a moment, ''moments'', longer for the harper to find his voice. &quot;Perhaps,&quot; Quint replies, noncommittally, to Jocelyn, his gaze glued to the sands.<br /> <br /> Silva shakes off her suprise and turns back to Jocelyn and Quint. &quot;Does she like... want to impress?&quot; Yes, Silva will care about something outside for just a moment. Quint's sister.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is a distinctive, disbelieving huff that escapes from Yuanth as she stares up at Ay'zan, but then she's distracted by the approach of the Weyrlingmaster as Olivya arrives to escort them off the sands. &quot;I have food ready for her; you should have ate before,&quot; is said as if picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. But, likely, there will be food for Ay'zan too where Olivya leads.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fort's Weyrleaders draw the remaining candidates to them, N'rov standing at Mirinda's shoulder. They have quiet words of commiseration but also of appreciation for the candidates' being here, for their ''trying'', for the difference it may have meant. All the eggs hatched, with none left to take ''between''; all the hatchlings are healthy; ''they'' are healthy too, and will live to Stand again if their ages suit and they so choose (and if they weren't too much of a pain, but for the moment that can go unsaid). Those who came from holds may return, but they'll always have this to remember it all by. This, and ''food'', that interrupted meal: time to finish, and feast!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele doesn't linger on the sands, without a lifemate. She only barely makes it all the way through N'rov's speech before she retreats quickly.<br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's a bit unwilling to take his eyes off Yuanth though he does so briefly as Olivya approaches. &quot;Wasn't hungry.&quot; he mumbles apologetically. &quot;C'mon Yuanth.&quot; her name rolls easily off his tongue. &quot;Let's go find food.&quot; for her at the very least.<br /> <br /> Eyes more gray than blue lift from the sands to regard Quint evenly at Silva's question, eyebrows lifting. &quot;Was her Impression wanted?&quot; Jocelyn could be asking the same question as her fellow weyrling as the final pairs are made save for the pointed way she looks at the harper afterward, glancing down again in time to watch the candidate they're discussing make a quick exit.<br /> <br /> Quint shakes his head for a moment at Silva's question. Then: &quot;She thinks she does,&quot; he finally says, gaze flickering towards the Weyrleaders as they give their speech, though only briefly: watching his sister retreat off the sands, instead.<br /> <br /> Silva's a little more serious now, &quot;It's not what she would expect.&quot; Silva, actually sounding adult. &quot;I think I need to go for a moment, I'll come find you a little later?&quot; That to Quint, before Silva starts edging her way out.<br /> <br /> Jocelyn watches Silva depart with a look that's thoughtful, attention returning to Quint after with a direct stare now that the younger rider's no longer blocking part of her visual field. &quot;She thinks she does, &quot; she repeats, expectantly. &quot;Are you glad that she didn't?&quot; As people around them start to get up and head for the entry, she gathers her skirts and rises. &quot;Are you going to the celebration? Going to find her?&quot;<br /> <br /> The hatching is over and that means there's nothing more to see. Nothing more that Farideh could want to see anyway one the dragons have all been led away. She makes a little more small talk with her sea neighbor and even allows him to help her into her cloak again, but then she's following K'del towards the stairs. It's not coincidence that her eyes skim over the High Reachians, lingering particularly on Jo and finally, Jocelyn. There's no words, and soon, she's back out in the snow, presumably headed to the feast.<br /> <br /> Quint gives a silent nod towards Silva, and habit makes him stand as the blue weyrling does too. &quot;Irrelevant now, wouldn't you say?&quot; comes the harper's response to Jocelyn, an attempt at softening it with one of his familiar, easy smiles. &quot;Yes,&quot; the latter question of the gold weyrling's is answered more directly. &quot;You?&quot; he offers her an elbow in anticipation.<br /> <br /> Relevant or not, Jocelyn's stare remains, brow furrowing for that easy, oft-seen smile. &quot;You certainly seem to think so, &quot; she says at last, neutrally, reaching to take his elbow after a momentary pause. &quot;I should put in an appearance, although I don't expect to stay for terribly long.&quot; If the line of her jaw tightens briefly when she meets Farideh's eyes, well. They'll see each other soon enough.<br /> |Categories=Hatching Logs, Search Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Taeliyth_and_Leczuth%27s_Eggs_Hatch!&diff=85141 2016-02-28T21:56:14Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Dahlia{{!}}Taeliyth, Dahlia, Estanei, A'sran{{!}}Leczuth, A'sran, N'rov, Mirinda, Quint, Farideh, K'del, Jocelyn, Jo, Silva, Jo{{!}}M'ron, T'gar, Olivya, Kh'tyr, B'r'and, D'aeo, Ay'zan, Catling<br /> |what=Taeliyth and Leczuth's eggs hatch.<br /> |where=Galleries, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr<br /> |day=18<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.27<br /> |weather=Snow.<br /> |type=Log<br /> |log=Though it's been known for some days that the eggs are nearing hatching, it isn't until dinner is underway in the Living Cavern that the unmistakable sound of humming dragons rises from where the snow continues to fall pleasantly outside. The sound grows as more and more dragons give voice to announcing the imminent event: the eggs are hatching!<br /> <br /> Up on the ledge, a russet brown hums while his rider has claimed a few non-VIP seats as close to the action as she can. She has a notepad in one hand and a pouch in the other and the people who surround her seem anywhere between agitated (in the throwing up kind of way) to excited (in also possibly the throwing up kind of way). &quot;Only a few more minutes left for bets, children,&quot; says the lanky woman who doesn't look all that far from the diminutive she's tossed at some men who are much much much older than her.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Taeliyth's hum is with verve. Her eyes whirl swiftly, her excitement evident in voice and pose. Though she stays well back from the now animated eggs, sitting close to Leczuth, with the occasional nudge of her head to his shoulder or neck as if to point out this thing or that, if he hasn't seen - or just to make sure he ''did'' see, her mood is unmistakable: hatchings are fun!<br /> <br /> Dahlia's mood might be buoyed by her lifemate's, for standing where she's at on the sands with the other leaders of the Weyr and A'sran, she's bouncing on her boot tips like a child before the curtain draws a Harper concert. &quot;It's time,&quot; is practically a squee to no one in particular, her energy too much to be contained in any stately state, wide grin offered to all her companions in turn (all of whom will, inevitably, have their arm grasped, while she bounces and points at something new) by the end of this.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It should come as little surprise to anyone who knows Taeliyth that her eggs aren't about to keep watchers waiting long after the humming has begun. Though there's little movements here and there from eggs across the sands as the deafening voice of the Weyr gives notice of the impending arrival of new dragons, including a twitch from the Midas' Puzzle Egg, the real start of the show comes as Fuzzy Wuzzy Egg and Tee-Tee Egg prove they're not as soft and snuggley at they appear, the crack of shell slamming into shell and both shattering in a spray of shard and fluid onto the surrounding sand, spilling a blue and a green inelegantly onto the sands. It takes each a moment to get their bearings but both have a certain verve to their step as they each stumble in different directions and find their lifemates in swift succession. If this is a portent for the hatching on the whole, even with only just enough candidates to give a fair choice to the hatchlings, then it's a good one.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first move onto the sands is to give a bow to the clutchparents, and from far enough away that it hints to his natural reticence when it comes to what's proper with dragons. The fact that the show starts immediately has the young man stumbling in the sand just for a step. Quick look around: no one saw that, ahem. &quot;They're fast,&quot; a muttered comment as steps less sure carry him forward. Ever forward.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's job as Weyrlingmaster might be secure; she gets all of the candidates (who wanted to come) to the sands and bowing to the dam and sire on time for those eggs to crack. But those red lips of hers are pressed into a tight line as she settles into the sidelines to watch, even as she nods to an assistant to go get the dazed weyrlings that hadn't had time to settle into place.<br /> <br /> The weather isn't problematic enough to keep people from coming to the hatching, but it ''is'' snow and it ''does'' stick. High Reaches' acting weyrwoman is brushing at the white stuff on her fur-lined cloak when she finally arrives with her weyrleader. She gives up the gambit when they arrive at their designated seats in the dignitaries' section, removing said cloak altogether and situating herself on one of the cushioned seats; where upon she arranges her deep blue skirts with a polite smile to those people on either side of K'del and herself. &quot;Lovely evening for a hatching,&quot; she murmurs conversationally to the man at her elbow.<br /> <br /> From the sands, For Breirande... Well, okay; it's eye bugging time, since the hatchlings are instantly erupting. He's barely out on the Sands, bowing rigidly to the clutchparents, and unobtrusively seeking to 'hide' behind other candidates when it starts happening. Let the *true* sweating begin!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Tawny-bronze Leczuth is a silent sentinel next to his mate, allowing her exuberance to take the lead. His whirling eyes seem to take in both the quickly-filling galleries and the eggs all that once, and that before the candidates have even made it into his line of vision. He tries to see everything at once, though his projected emotions are more territorial - and proud! - than the excitement that Taeliyth shows.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Spirit's Silhouette Egg flutters, then shudders, then pops, leaving a dainty green to claw her way out of the hole poked by her muzzle, while the braided arcs of gold unravel on Caged Jewel Egg to reveal a sizable brown. The latter pauses by the former as she shakes the last bit of shard off her foot, before he's off and moving toward the ring of white-robed candidates. The green ends up finding her girl first, while the brown finds an exotic lifemate from outside the Weyr some moments later. Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it is actually ''black'' as the darkness spreads across the shell, except that the blackness is actually cracks across the surface as it continues to rock.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran stands at ease next to Dahlia and their weyrleaders, idling the time before the eggs actually start hatching by watching people shuffle into the galleries; there's only so much interest he can feign in wobbling eggs, ok!? His eyes briefly drop to the goldrider-on-her-toes, and his mouth quirks into a smile, but he's quickly back to eyeing the hatching-goers.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's just made it in time for the first shell to break; he escorts Mirinda, laughing, with a low relieved mutter that they're ''alive''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan is amongst the line of candidates emerging into the sands. Swallowing once he tries to push down his growing nerves. Remembering just in time to bow to the clutch parents, a proper bow that speaks of plenty of training, he now steps to join the others. Deep breath and 'Oh!' is exclaimed as his gaze takes in eggs shattering and hatchlings already upon the sands and finding life mates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Some of that blackness in Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it isn't actually black at all, as that darkness seems to ''move'' from within that ever thickening middle and widening crevices. The hatchling is precise in their movements, however, as it works at the cracks until the egg falls apart to reveal that darkness as brown. Once he has achieved his new state, freed from the shell, then his attention turns to meditate on the vast array of sands and candidates before him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; The Master Within Brown &gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Coltish to a fault, this tall, dark brown has a whimsical air about him <br /> from his muzzle's dished profile all the way down, and ''down'' to his <br /> small paws. Those extremities of his are even darker than the rest, as <br /> though he'd waded hip-high in ink and trailed his tail behind him too, <br /> even splashing it up the spars of his all too expansive wings. It's a <br /> second look that might find subtler variations, the depth polished away in<br /> his softer places to tawny warmth: the velvety curve of his muzzle and the<br /> vulnerable indentation behind his jaw, and indistinct dapplings along his <br /> underbelly and the fine sails of his wings like so many ghostly <br /> fingerprints. He has a lot to grow into, not just his bony frame, before <br /> he can approach anything like grace; in the meantime he carries himself <br /> with slow, careful movements. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's first move, rather than bowing, is to lift her gaze to the stands, squinting into the dimmer seats of the galleries for a moment as she searches--. But then she has to turn away to bow, to move to settle herself into a safe place as dragons spill from their eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon is quick on his feet, ensuring he doesn't get himself hurt especially when that dainty green has to claw her way out. Can't he just stand over here? All the way in the back? &quot;Geez, she wasn't kidding in saying don't get hurt.&quot; He half-turns, &quot;Did that one-?&quot; But then there's another hatching. It's too much, almost, to keep straight.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's eyes meet Mirinda's, briefly, and then N'rov's, but the Weyrlingmaster doesn't move to join the Weyrleaders, not where she has to stay on her toes to help with the chaos on the sands and seeing weyrlings off of them.<br /> <br /> &quot;Dear fuck,&quot; exclaims Estanei, staring at the sands even while marks are being shoved into her hand. &quot;No no, it's too late now. You lost quite a bit there, D'vere. First wasn't, in fact, a bronze. Check that bronze ego of yours at the door.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's hands clap together in delight as the first shells reveal their dragons. It's A'sran's turn to be grabbed on the arm first. &quot;''Look''!&quot; as if he's not already looking, she tugs his sleeve, smile just about as wide as it's ever been seen. &quot;''Dragons''!&quot; as if she might've feared they'd hatch enormous tunnelsnakes instead. She at least lets go of his sleeve to bounce beside him without detriment to his wardrobe, though her fingers twist into the fabric of her green skirts, the dress a lovely thing for this day of celebration, if perhaps a few turns out of style.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Finally The Master Within Brown moves again, more than his first deep breaths and the extrication of his long dark tail. He's picky, step by stilted step, carefulness the only reason he doesn't fall with those long and untried legs. He's picky, but also increasingly bright-eyed as bits of shell drop away in his footsteps like so much ink-and-yellow snow. He's picky, but that goes for the candidates too now that he's spotted them; he doesn't so much approach them as walk along just inside their lines, ''searching''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling nearly stumbles as she makes the change from hard stone to soft copper under her feet, but she recovers the forward momentum into a deep bow towards the clutch-parents. Then she delicately makes certain she is not likely to trip on anything, and she then makes her way towards the eggs, stopping a respectful, hopeful distance away.<br /> <br /> Amongst the High Reaches contingent is a small group who arrived earlier. There's a bit of discussion at the entranceway; perhaps largely owing to Quint's easy though probably-not-serious suggestion: &quot;You ''could'' come and sit with us,&quot; to Jocelyn, before his gaze sweeps the galleries and he indicates a spot down the ways, following closely on Silva's heels to the indicated seats.<br /> <br /> From the sands, 'Poor' Breirande. To relieve his overwhelmed brain from goggling at all those baby dragons spilling out of shells and rambling around choosing their lifemates, he's jerking his gaze up to the galleries, desperately seeking his mother. Luckily, he notes her quite soon, and the elegant-looking woman smiles proudly down to her child, while 'Rand's younger sibs waves and grin at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg wobbles in its wallow made of sand, warming to the thrum that reverberates through the cavern. Cream and Egg's occupant goes from statue-still to animated in a way that make the shell seem to expand in what might be a lazy stretch within, trembling for a moment as might muscles pushed to their limit. Then the breath of life so suddenly evident in the subtly speckled egg is lost as in exhale and it's terribly, utterly motionless again.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran laughs at the goldrider's exuberance, but he cannot quite help straightening his sleeve when she relinquishes it. He ''does'' step closer and leans forward, taking in the hatchlings that has thus far hatched. &quot;I hope you did not place any ''real'' bets on the results,&quot; he says, but his head lifts and his eyes slide back to N'rov. Him, too.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon inches closer now that some of the immediate chaos dies down. He checks out where some of his fellow candidates are, then chances another few steps closer to the dragonets. Though once, he half-turns and looks back at the gawking crowds in the galleries. And //that// seems to freak him out more than the dragonets, for it's face-first back to the sands!<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's gaze cuts across Olivya's with a sudden grin at its heels; he rubs his hands together, as though still unused to the heat after the snow without, or as though it might burn off some of the adrenaline. Then he's still, still as that speckled egg. He wouldn't, surely, have bet against ''those''.<br /> From the sands, A small boy from the lower caverns, surely at the youngest limit for candidates, sidles behind his older sister, shifting uncomfortably in his sandals. &quot;Ninena, I we-,&quot; but anything else he says turns into an inaudible mumble.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown keeps walking, not quick about it but as methodical as he is with the rest of his search. Though his eyes whirl red, it's less erratically so than with most hatchlings, and though increasing ''need'' is evinced in how deeply and closely he looks, desperation doesn't take him over. Once he pauses by an older candidate, his head quirked in quizzical interest. But the next time he pauses, it's with a step forward, towards one of the youngest boys of the Weyr.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;I did!&quot; Dahlia volunteers to A'sran of bets even though she wasn't the one he was addressing, &quot;But only a little,&quot; she adds, glancing ''guiltily'' to the two Onyx riders in between the coos that are for no one at the hatchlings creating chaos some distance away.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan shifts his feet from side to side with his gaze sweeping the eggs near constantly. Only partially aware of the candidates around him he spares a quick sideways glance towards Daemon briefly.<br /> <br /> Sands coats and such Silva's dress is ''nice''. There's hints of blueish-silver trim that totally match her blue outside. A few steps in as she casts a glance back to Quint and Jocelyn, &quot;You know, like, if you ''really'' wanted to I wouldn't like... really mind.&quot; It's an invitation. Their seats are PRobABLY not as good as Jocelyn's but... friendsish?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's fingers worry away at a piece of cloth between them, her attention kept stubbornly on the eggs and hatchlings as they pair off. Eventually, though, she glances back up again to the galleries, this time searching until she does find-- yes, ''him''. A trembling smile touches her lips then, one that likely was meant to be more reassuring.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon might have managed to give Ninwayzan a subtle brofist of encouragement if his attention wasn't mostly on the eggs and dragonets. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling licks her lips, finding a place with reasonably good footing in the sand. Then she goes still again, watching. She twirls her fingers, nervous fingers, in a lock of her hair, then runs her fingers through the tangles.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown finishes with his intent study of one young Fortian boy only to turn away disappointed. His gait carefully picks across the sands, retreading steps already trod and taking a different turn at one particular juncture to inspect a candidate thus unnoticed. There is a method to his madness, a pattern discernible from aerial vantage points in the deep imprinted paths of his small paws. It's here, at this one, a petite girl with copper hair, that he perks up, suddenly interested. And then, for all of the world to see, there is the tell-tale sign of Impression as his eyes whirl in rainbow colors.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Cream and Egg briefly defies gravity as it leaves the sands fully for a brief moment after what must have been a monumental effort from the dragon within. As the creamy shell slaps back onto golden sand, the black flecks prove to be shatter points and the egg explodes on impact. In its wake is left a constellation-kissed bronze, dripping egg goo onto the sands, his look distinctly vexed. Ew. Goo.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Entangle the Stars Bronze &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Kinetic energy radiates through this dragonet's youthfully exaggerated <br /> proportions, as though it might set the nebula of his hide-- its hazy <br /> clouds of light and contrastingly swart shadows obscuring a burnished <br /> copper-bronze backdrop-- into full-fledged and characteristically <br /> unpredictable motion. Gravity might well have drawn the darkest hues <br /> towards the central part of his frame, leaving his extremities bright and <br /> nearly golden at the tips of headknobs and claws, but for the billow of <br /> deep, dusted rust across his wingsails that escapes even that. Clusters of<br /> stars stipple pale constellations across his top-line, traversing from his<br /> muzzle over his neckridges and wingspars, all the way down to the spade of<br /> his tail. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran's grin starts when he's staring at the weyrleader, but his gaze ends up focused on Dahlia. &quot;That hideous orange egg?&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Everyday Ingenuity Egg buckles at the same moment as The Image Within becomes, explosively, the Image Without. Sticky bronze wings burst through the shell of the former while the blue kicks his dark egg's remnants out of his way. The blue is on a mission where the bronze seems like he has no where to go, at first. Impression for the blue lands him a blonde girl while eventually the bronze settles on one of the taller boys in the class.<br /> <br /> Hatchlings are already afoot when Jocelyn arrives at the same time as several others from High Reaches, shedding her cloak upon entering the hatching grounds with an uncomfortable touch to the too-warm neckline of her own, blue dress. &quot;I'd like that, &quot; she says unexpectedly to Quint and Silva while they're paused in the entry, following as they navigate for a seat with a glance down to where her weyrleaders are seated. She's half-staring below while moving around people with mutters of excuse-mes and pardon-mes, exhaling with some relief as she can finally turn the whole of her attention onto the motions down on the sands once settled.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's reply is to A'sran comes with a glance askance and a murmur of, &quot;Giant, irascible bronzes.&quot; He must know the ones she means. A moment later though, she tosses him a wink. She's not telling, apparently.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon isn't sure //what// the proper etiquette is, but, &quot;Congratulations!&quot; seems to be a good response to the Impressions around him. His smile is tight only because of nervousness for sincerity lurks yet in his blue eyes. Then another dragon is hatching and with it even more, and once again, Daemon's doing the hibbie-jibbie-stay-out-of-the-way dance.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg stops moving abruptly, as cracks start to form at the base and spread upwards with due diligence. Meanwhile, nearly identical blues spill from Sawed Scene Egg and Folds and Wrinkles Egg within moments of one another. Both are up and moving and neither seems inclined to hurry their decisions, ranging across the sands back and forth in an almost synchronized pattern of search, each keen not to miss anything. When they find their lifemates, the two Impressees couldn't be more different: one an older, slender Monacoan and the other a very young, stocky local. The Charcoal and Graphite Egg smudges further into the sand as it wobbles in the sand. The hatchling within must be determined, as it does not even take a second's break in its continued rocking.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Egg goo is awful. Entangle the Stars Bronze Hatchling looks pitiful even with his obvious disdain for his ''drowned'' state. With forepaws touching the sand, he shakes free the worst of it, showering the nearby eggs. Now that he's as reasonably non-drippy as he can manage, he can turn his eyes curiously toward the white-robed figures ringing the eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya is the first of the weyrlingmaster staff to step forward towards the newly-Impressed Catling, nodding simply towards the young girl before she commands quietly, &quot;Come with me; we have food and the barracks ready for you both.&quot; Her gaze sweeps to N'rov yet again, though, as she does so and she curves a brow at him. (This is probably how all those rumors got started, not at all because Liv's plahyer.)<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran is too polite to strangle a woman on the sands while her dragon's eggs are hatching, but he is probably thinking it. Definitely.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande's nod to his mother, sibs, and his greenriding step-father is a jerky, harsh thing, given his increasing agitation inside, but his resolve is screwed up another notch when he sees that pride in his mom's face. Looking back to Sands, he finds more dragons, more Impressions. Catling is one? Gulp!<br /> <br /> From the sands, The cracks on surface of the fragile-looking, Fire-Sculpted Egg grow and the shell simultaneously pulses, but then with a singular, heroic shove of darkened limbs, the dragonet within sets itself free and stands proudly in the remnants. He lifts his head resolutely, surveying his surroundings, not the least bit set aback by the sand and bits of shell stuck to his brown hide.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov exhales as that egg not only moves but breaks, but he has the remaining eggs to eye, gaze narrowed as though he could force them all to rock and hatch through sheer force of will. Luckily for Mirinda, he doesn't seem inclined to strangle either.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Till the End of the Line Brown &gt;---------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Rich chocolate hide stretches over the small bones of this runt-sized <br /> brown, though potential awaits in the wideness of his russet-tinged wings <br /> and the ungainliness of his large-footed amble. With his warm coloring and<br /> sleek, satiny hide, he carries himself with a certain self-assurance <br /> despite those youthful disadvantages. His large and bright eyes, overset <br /> by sooty eyeridges, are a focal point of his finely crafted head, and are <br /> at odds with the perpetual, resting smirk of his mouth. Dark smatterings <br /> of copper and carmine scatter across his flanks, deepening into a large <br /> deposit of rusted shadows that stretches upward from his gleaming slate <br /> claws into the hollows of his wings. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling sinks to her knees, a gasp coming out of her mouth, then a soft, wordless cry. &quot;Riyoth? Riyoth.&quot; Joyous now. &quot;His name is Riyoth!&quot; A shout, triumphant, and she rises to her feet. &quot;I am ready,&quot; she says, putting her hand out to him, stroking him, then motioning towards Olivya. THis way....&quot;<br /> <br /> There's a smile for the bluerider's words, though it disappears quickly from Quint's face, as he instead glances to the sands, gaze flickering over the occupants before locating a familiar blonde figure. He exhales a breath, waiting until both Silva and Jocelyn are seated before he sinks down. For once, he doesn't have eyes for the dragons so much as for a particular occupant of the sands. &quot;That's her there, the blonde standing a bit aways,&quot; he says, with a grin. &quot;My sister.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The peculiar veneer of Jumbled Lights Eggs is broken when a bronze foot pushes through the shell, a few more shakes making it crack wide to let the dragon out. His path takes him past the trembling Windblown Wish Egg which crumples just after he passes it, revealing its dark green denizen. The bronze finds his lad first, while the green takes some time seeking her lifemate, though one is eventually selected from the offered candidates with a joyful creel. The valiant battle between the Charcoal and Graphite Egg continues undaunted by either time or the hatching of other eggs, though surely one side must be weakening by now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan simply has no words, for once, for this. Taking his his first hatching ever and doing it from the sands has left him nearly speechless indeed. Shuffling a bit to the right he peers around to see where the brown went and whom he is by. More movement of another one has him looking away quickly right after Catling announces Riyadh's name. So much to see! For the moment he focuses his gaze on the ones still moving in particular the bronze.<br /> <br /> Silva's short enough that those standing in front of her get a GLARE. Ugh. Stop being stupid people, sit down so the shorties can see. An impatient tap of Silva's toe against the floor as she edges around to get a look down below. &quot;It's like, a little different view from up here, isn't it?&quot; To Quint and Jocelyn.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon sneaks a few looks here and there, watching as Catling is lead off and studiously ignoring the crowds behind him. Does he look sick a little? Maaaaaybe, but it's patently obvious he's doing his best to hold it. &quot;Riyoth... Strong name.&quot; Talking to himself. First sign, people. There are too many dragons for him to focus on just one, so he doesn't try but instead works to keep them all in his field of vision.<br /> <br /> &quot;That one, &quot; Jocelyn repeats with a glance to Quint for confirmation, turning back again in time to see Catling get to her feet with her brown. Her eyebrows lift, and there's certainly some surprise evident in her expression - which tugs nevertheless into a small smile, particularly at Silva's remark. &quot;Only a little? Certainly less nerve-wracking.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, breathe. Breirande STAY. As dragonets whiz (or sit) by, he's very slowly and very subconsciously stepping back, back on Sands, and is only stopped in retreat by stumbling in them, jerking to right himself. By this point, his eyes should be literally exploding from his head, his limbs and eye twitching on and off. Flight seems very, very near...mother or not.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Till The End of the Line Brown Hatchling takes his time in leaving the shards of his egg behind. His process is slow and his steps deliberate, but he eventually, warily begins the arduous task of searching out his lifemate. He moves determinedly towards one group of candidates, studying them with a cautious stance; they are not to be, they are not ''his''. And on he marches, towards another group who has caught his wandering eye.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov has more hatchlings to eye, now, just as assessingly as before. A brief swing of his gaze might compare the latest sire and dam anew... or just see how they're dealing with this first clutch of theirs. A'sran, then, and Dahlia, and a murmur into Mirinda's ear. &quot;Think that one's going to run,&quot; is only part of it.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's, &quot;Aww,&quot; is for no one in particular as her hands clap together again, bouncing onto her toes. It's possible the initial excitement of the hatching is starting to wear off because the junior is becoming a little more quiet, though her lifemate still watches with marked interest. She ''might'' be counting down the eggs til there are none left and she's officially ''free''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya returns to the sands with blood already staining her white, sleeveless tunic. Luckily, it isn't hers. Her first response, of course, is to survey the wreckage that has managed to happen in her brief absence and start giving orders to assistants, before she starts skirting around the edge of the clutch to get a better position. She seems to be watching Breirande more than most, likely expecting the running as well.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm,&quot; Quint makes a noise in a way to suggest that he's listening to Silva without perhaps actually listening. He hasn't the weyrling's recent memories of their own hatching to muse over, after all. It's only the impatient tap of blue weyrling's toe that pulls his attention from the sands, however briefly; &quot;Here,&quot; he says, gesturing, &quot;Swap with me.&quot; He's tall enough to see past those in front, after all.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The likeness of the bird etched in the colors of the Charcoal and Graphite Egg is pierced cleanly through its imaginary heart with one sharp dragonet claw from within. Then the egg begins rocking again as the hatchling inside continues the fight to tear apart the egg that cages her inside as the eyes of the world watch her. It is a luminescent green that emerges victoriously, if exhausted, from the confrontation as she tumbles out of her shell, setting herself free into the uncertain world.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; As True As An Arrow Green &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> She isn't small, for all that she's green: all elongated curves rounded by<br /> baby fat, the more remarkable for the spirited way she holds her head and <br /> the brilliance of her hue. That luminescent green, spilt along her <br /> generous torso and over high arched and gently sloped back haunches, might<br /> appear grassy in another world; here, it's liquidly glossy as though just <br /> beneath the surface of a sunlit lake. A patterned braid is faint down the <br /> length of her spine, a matte relief amidst the fluid coloring, visible <br /> only in the ''right'' light. She's all the brighter for the darkness she <br /> does possess, near-mahogany shadows that stripe behind her swept-back <br /> neckridges and beneath the lithe length of her tail; dark as well are her <br /> tiny paws' claws, dark and ''pointed''. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Swapping with Quint is done before Quint's offer can be done. Even if this does settle Silva next to Jocelyn. At least she can SEE now. &quot;There's like, so many dragons walking around there.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan hasn't yet looked towards the crowd in his effort to watch each dragon in some way. Unable to watch them all of course he also tries to keep them in his field of vision. Bright green eyes follow the bronze before slipping to the brown and finally to a newly hatched green. Here he finds his voice in a low murmur of approval. Still shifting his weight from one foot to the other he seems to be managing his nerves fairly well thus far.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon hides hands that might hold a tremble still by crossing his arms across his chest. He presses his lips together and spares a moment to look at the sand beneath his (hot) sandaled (hot) feet. The crack of another egg, straight through the imaginary heart brings about his attention - back in action. &quot;Just breathe.&quot; It's a mantra. It's keeping him sane. His holdbred is showing, here.<br /> <br /> Naturally, Jo's late but at least she's here. She's quiet in arriving, scanning the stands until she spies Jocelyn with Quint and Silva before shuffling her way over to them. M'ron and Kaitlin trail behind her as she nods to those that look her way before the sand activity gets the brunt of her attention. T'gar is here as well, though he maintains keeping his distance from the Reachian group despite having settled near M'ron.<br /> <br /> From the sands, As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling isn't one to sit idle long. Indeed, she has already started to mark her battle-lines in the sands as she draws herself straight from her egg. And then she's charging them, directly towards the oldest candidate on the sands. Even Gisele's worrying at the fabric stops entirely as she holds herself still under the bright green's intense regard.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Entangle the Stars Bronze has a big decision to make. As he moves across the sands with grace uncharacteristic of the newly hatched, his eyes are already examining the faces. One might think, as a bronze, he would immediately discard the girls, but his eyes pass over them just as they do the males. He never draws too near the candidates, but rather looks from a distance at the lot.<br /> <br /> And Jocelyn actually laughs, caught up in the feelings arising from watching her first post-Impression hatching and the amusement elicited by Silva's observation. &quot;There were ''almost'' that many when we Impressed, you know, &quot; she points out, but it comes out friendly enough. &quot;You'd never seen one before you stood, did - &quot; And abruptly she leans forward as that green charges to Gisele, one hand reaching across the bluerider to make to tug at Quint's wrist. &quot;Harper!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The plump ecru of All You Knead Egg expands like rising dough. Egg, of course, lacks the same flexibility so the expansion of the brown within, stretching in all directions at once creates confetti of his shell and leaves him tumbling back, right into the quaking orderly squares of Nine Patch Egg. In the end, it proves to be a boon to the exhausted looking blue who spills right along with his clutchmate. The noises of distress from the pairing rise, but both seem to manage to untangle themselves from the other with only minor scratches, and indeed, help is close at hand in the form of three candidates who unwisely rushed forward to try to help. They escape unscathed, though two of the three end up with a lifemate, but then that's what they came for, wasn't it? If not, too late now!<br /> <br /> &quot;Is this your first time ''watching''?&quot; Quint's finally distracted from the sands enough to ask, glancing to both Silva and Jocelyn in curiosity. The glance catches sight of a familiar bluerider and her companions, the harper lifting a hand in greeting to Jo and the other Reachians, before Jocelyn's tug draws his attention back -- though not so much to the dragon as to where she's headed, holding his breath, displaying a tension not usually so visible in the harper's demeanor.<br /> <br /> It must be boring in the VIP section, because Farideh seems to actually be ''laughing'' at something K'del says and then leans in to hear whatever the portly man at her side has to say about the hatchlings below.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well.... ''yeah'', of course. I mean, like....&quot; It's not like SOMEONE (Jocelyn) is old enough for flights yet. So there haven't been any hatchings to ''watch''. Silva doens't quite get the point of the tugging, because she's staring at Farideh and K'del. &quot;Did Farideh just like... ''laugh''?!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon lifts his head, maybe at the feeling of being assessed from afar, or maybe it's because he catches sight of the little green's battle lines - something draws his attention back to the sands. Caught so that even the sounds of distress doesn't phase him so much as to ensure he's steps aside.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande...is afraid. Not of the baby dragons, but of losing his precious FREEDOM. Each agonizing moment, each dragonet makes his throat tighten, his heart race more, his sweat near-literally flow from pores. His family is nearly forgotten in the internal war, the teen poised on the cusp. Stay or go?<br /> <br /> From the sands, White-robed candidates keep getting in the way, and once more Till the End of the Line Brown Hatchling veers away in pursuit of something ''else''. He walks by a small girl with dark curls, stops, and then studies her with intent in his whirling eyes. It is not her that he's looking for, but it's not the stout young man standing at her side either. In frustration, he dashes away from the pair and ambles further down the line, searching.. continuously searching.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the blue and brown tumbled into three of the candidates. Surpressing a faint smile as two of them walk away with a new friend he turns away to ensure nothing is sneaking up on him. Peeking sideways towards Breirande he edges a little closer to perhaps give silent support.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A twitching tail sweeping the sand betrays Entangle the Stars Bronze's impatience. Decisions aren't to be made lightly. This candidate or that? Her? No, him? It might seem a portent of doom that he's so still for so long with his gaze finally angled and fixed on a tall, muscular young man and those in his periphery. At last, a single forepaw draws up in what might be a beckoning gesture to encourage the man across the distance that separates them. That seems to signal decision, for rainbows swirl swiftly in the bronze's many-faceted eyes and Impression is made.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's &quot;Oh!&quot; in surprise at the way All You Knead Egg hatches leads to a grin and a glance toward Taeliyth at some silent remark from the gold. Her head lowers and nudges at Leczuth. Did he ''see'' that one? The goldrider steps a little forward as the candidates move to help the tangled, some concern showing in her expression, but it all turns out well and that has her exhaling her relief.<br /> <br /> Spotting Quint's wave, Jo grins with an indulgent nod his way as she settles in a seat close to the group. Jocelyn and Silva would get nodded greetings each too before she looks on at the Impression on the sands made with a few nodded murmuring words with Kaitlin.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele and As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling continue to stare each other down for a moment, but in the end it is the former that gives in first, looking away. The green takes that defeat with a huff, turning away herself and continuing to pick her way down the lines for her next challenge.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;What, no blood?&quot; N'rov murmurs, a laughing undernote to his voice that carries his own relief... before he makes it all scratchy. &quot;Candidates these days, they have it so easy. Why, in ''our'' day...'<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;Ancient times,&quot; Dahlia observes in a low voice, though she doesn't dare look back to N'rov.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's turn is next in the rotation of weyrlingmaster staff that are seeing the weyrlings to the barracks, and so it is she that steps forward to tell Br'and, very sympathetically, &quot;Too late. Follow me.&quot; She even crooks a finger, in case he can't understand the English right now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Valiant effort though he has given the task, Till the End of the Line Brown grows weary of the search, his movements becoming sloppy and a little agitated as he wanders through the white-robed candidates. His frustration hangs heavy on his small shoulders and sags those wide set wing sails, and he trudges along dutifully. Then, something draws his attention from this march, brightening his countenance, his eyes, and lifting those drooped wings. He sprints forward and nearly runs headlong into a tall, blonde-haired teenager; his eyes are on ''the prize''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Low, both of them are low, and so is N'rov's silent smirk. But then, given that brown, there just might be a crash ahead.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Unbeweavable Egg has finally rolled itself out of its pile of sand through the efforts of the hatchling within, but the thumps and taps from within the shell haven't done more than to create little cracks here and there. While the hatchling's effort's continue, it's clutchsister finds success in flopping out of the remains of In the Round Egg, only managing to destroy half the shell in her daring escape. A second green joins the first as Unbeweavable Egg splits apart at long last and the two play a game of seek and find, finding their lifemates waiting among the remaining candidates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first response is to reach out into the nothingness before him, and yet feet are dragged across the sands as the chains of his old life fall behind him in favor of what lies //ahead//. &quot;D'aeo.&quot; He tests his new name, sounds it out on his tongue in the barest breath before he is beckoned and claimed. <br /> <br /> &quot;Zvaezdiyth.&quot; A trip of syllables that yet come out perfect, a mouthful. And his hands come to rest on starry-bronze hide and a sigh escapes. Still, no one sees how his hand shakes, right?! Impression has only somewhat quashed the awkward. Just a wee. &quot;Right. I'm supposed to do something...&quot; As if in a dream, he lifts his head and - what, exactly?<br /> <br /> Quint hasn't any attention to spare the Reachian dignitaries; he's actually leaning forward in his seat. When the green turns away from his sister, there's an exhaled breath that sounds suspiciously like relief from the harper, tension fading from his posture.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan fidgeting and shuffling is increasing in small increments the longer the hatching continues. Time seems to be moving both quickly and too slowly all at once for the Baker apprentice turned candidate. As people around him impress to leave him slightly off by himself a bare hint of an uncertain frown etches into his expression. It's a fleeting one that he squelches in time to call out quiet congratulations towards the latest impresses.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is calm, reserved Pasna that comes for Daemon with the answer to that question, saying, &quot;He'll need to be fed. We have food in the barracks.&quot; She will even lead the way, not trusting him to find it on his own in the daze of the moment.<br /> <br /> Weyrbred Jocelyn has undoubtedly watched many a hatching, but she's too busy watching what's going on below with a side-look for Quint's posture to follow whatever's captured Silva's attention about their weyrleaders. And as the green moves on, she deflates slightly in her seat, lips pursing. She'll be disappointed for Gisele, even if the candidate's brother doesn't seem to be. And she says so: &quot;There may yet be another.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon blinks at Pasna, and nods. &quot;Right. Uh. Food? This way?&quot; He's still learning how you ''talk'' to a dragon. And reeling. But out he goes!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, turn! Brieirand RUN! Run for your freedom! Except that, as he staring wide-eyed at Ninwayzan, then pivoting about to do exactly that...he's run down by a dragonet, and falls in a heap to the Sands. Trying not to scream like a little girl, limbs and body flailing to protect himself from the little brown predator... What?! Still huge-eyed and gasping for breath, the teen stares up into Kahvaroeth's rainbow eyes...and turns aside as he suddenly throws up all over the sands. Ewwww.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The adventure that As True As An Arrow Green has carried on with must come to an end eventually; there are, after all, only so many candidates to inspect with her thorough regard. There's the lower caverns girl paused at but walked past, and then the boy from Ruatha, who stumbles backwards and is dismissed. Then, it happens as she stops suddenly and quirks her head as if listening to something that only she can hear, before she just as quickly changes her direction with an abruptness that has her rushing off towards one last candidate. She stops in front of a baker, taking a deep breath as her eyes whirl up at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's expression is quite comical as it goes from trying to hide disappointment to suddenly being quite bright and open. His eyes stare unfocused briefly as he reaches out to touch the green who is there oh so suddenly. &quot;Oh!&quot; he says weakly. &quot;I've been here all along.&quot; he pauses. &quot;I'm hungry too!&quot;<br /> It takes a moment, ''moments'', longer for the harper to find his voice. &quot;Perhaps,&quot; Quint replies, noncommittally, to Jocelyn, his gaze glued to the sands.<br /> <br /> Silva shakes off her suprise and turns back to Jocelyn and Quint. &quot;Does she like... want to impress?&quot; Yes, Silva will care about something outside for just a moment. Quint's sister.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is a distinctive, disbelieving huff that escapes from Yuanth as she stares up at Ay'zan, but then she's distracted by the approach of the Weyrlingmaster as Olivya arrives to escort them off the sands. &quot;I have food ready for her; you should have ate before,&quot; is said as if picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. But, likely, there will be food for Ay'zan too where Olivya leads.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fort's Weyrleaders draw the remaining candidates to them, N'rov standing at Mirinda's shoulder. They have quiet words of commiseration but also of appreciation for the candidates' being here, for their ''trying'', for the difference it may have meant. All the eggs hatched, with none left to take ''between''; all the hatchlings are healthy; ''they'' are healthy too, and will live to Stand again if their ages suit and they so choose (and if they weren't too much of a pain, but for the moment that can go unsaid). Those who came from holds may return, but they'll always have this to remember it all by. This, and ''food'', that interrupted meal: time to finish, and feast!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele doesn't linger on the sands, without a lifemate. She only barely makes it all the way through N'rov's speech before she retreats quickly.<br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's a bit unwilling to take his eyes off Yuanth though he does so briefly as Olivya approaches. &quot;Wasn't hungry.&quot; he mumbles apologetically. &quot;C'mon Yuanth.&quot; her name rolls easily off his tongue. &quot;Let's go find food.&quot; for her at the very least.<br /> <br /> Eyes more gray than blue lift from the sands to regard Quint evenly at Silva's question, eyebrows lifting. &quot;Was her Impression wanted?&quot; Jocelyn could be asking the same question as her fellow weyrling as the final pairs are made save for the pointed way she looks at the harper afterward, glancing down again in time to watch the candidate they're discussing make a quick exit.<br /> <br /> Quint shakes his head for a moment at Silva's question. Then: &quot;She thinks she does,&quot; he finally says, gaze flickering towards the Weyrleaders as they give their speech, though only briefly: watching his sister retreat off the sands, instead.<br /> <br /> Silva's a little more serious now, &quot;It's not what she would expect.&quot; Silva, actually sounding adult. &quot;I think I need to go for a moment, I'll come find you a little later?&quot; That to Quint, before Silva starts edging her way out.<br /> <br /> Jocelyn watches Silva depart with a look that's thoughtful, attention returning to Quint after with a direct stare now that the younger rider's no longer blocking part of her visual field. &quot;She thinks she does, &quot; she repeats, expectantly. &quot;Are you glad that she didn't?&quot; As people around them start to get up and head for the entry, she gathers her skirts and rises. &quot;Are you going to the celebration? Going to find her?&quot;<br /> <br /> The hatching is over and that means there's nothing more to see. Nothing more that Farideh could want to see anyway one the dragons have all been led away. She makes a little more small talk with her sea neighbor and even allows him to help her into her cloak again, but then she's following K'del towards the stairs. It's not coincidence that her eyes skim over the High Reachians, lingering particularly on Jo and finally, Jocelyn. There's no words, and soon, she's back out in the snow, presumably headed to the feast.<br /> <br /> Quint gives a silent nod towards Silva, and habit makes him stand as the blue weyrling does too. &quot;Irrelevant now, wouldn't you say?&quot; comes the harper's response to Jocelyn, an attempt at softening it with one of his familiar, easy smiles. &quot;Yes,&quot; the latter question of the gold weyrling's is answered more directly. &quot;You?&quot; he offers her an elbow in anticipation.<br /> <br /> Relevant or not, Jocelyn's stare remains, brow furrowing for that easy, oft-seen smile. &quot;You certainly seem to think so, &quot; she says at last, neutrally, reaching to take his elbow after a momentary pause. &quot;I should put in an appearance, although I don't expect to stay for terribly long.&quot; If the line of her jaw tightens briefly when she meets Farideh's eyes, well. They'll see each other soon enough.<br /> |Categories=Hatching Logs, Search Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Taeliyth_and_Leczuth%27s_Eggs_Hatch!&diff=85140 2016-02-28T21:55:29Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Dahlia{{!}}Taeliyth, Dahlia, Estanei, A'sran{{!}}Leczuth, A'sran, N'rov, Mirinda, Quint, Farideh, K'del, Jocelyn, Jo, Silva, Jo{{!}}M'ron, T'gar, Olivya, Kh'tyr, B'...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Dahlia{{!}}Taeliyth, Dahlia, Estanei, A'sran{{!}}Leczuth, A'sran, N'rov, Mirinda, Quint, Farideh, K'del, Jocelyn, Jo, Silva, Jo{{!}}M'ron, T'gar, Olivya, Kh'tyr, B'rand, D'aeo, Az'yan, Catling<br /> |what=Taeliyth and Leczuth's eggs hatch.<br /> |where=Galleries, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr<br /> |day=18<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.27<br /> |weather=Snow.<br /> |type=Log<br /> |log=Though it's been known for some days that the eggs are nearing hatching, it isn't until dinner is underway in the Living Cavern that the unmistakable sound of humming dragons rises from where the snow continues to fall pleasantly outside. The sound grows as more and more dragons give voice to announcing the imminent event: the eggs are hatching!<br /> <br /> Up on the ledge, a russet brown hums while his rider has claimed a few non-VIP seats as close to the action as she can. She has a notepad in one hand and a pouch in the other and the people who surround her seem anywhere between agitated (in the throwing up kind of way) to excited (in also possibly the throwing up kind of way). &quot;Only a few more minutes left for bets, children,&quot; says the lanky woman who doesn't look all that far from the diminutive she's tossed at some men who are much much much older than her.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Taeliyth's hum is with verve. Her eyes whirl swiftly, her excitement evident in voice and pose. Though she stays well back from the now animated eggs, sitting close to Leczuth, with the occasional nudge of her head to his shoulder or neck as if to point out this thing or that, if he hasn't seen - or just to make sure he ''did'' see, her mood is unmistakable: hatchings are fun!<br /> <br /> Dahlia's mood might be buoyed by her lifemate's, for standing where she's at on the sands with the other leaders of the Weyr and A'sran, she's bouncing on her boot tips like a child before the curtain draws a Harper concert. &quot;It's time,&quot; is practically a squee to no one in particular, her energy too much to be contained in any stately state, wide grin offered to all her companions in turn (all of whom will, inevitably, have their arm grasped, while she bounces and points at something new) by the end of this.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It should come as little surprise to anyone who knows Taeliyth that her eggs aren't about to keep watchers waiting long after the humming has begun. Though there's little movements here and there from eggs across the sands as the deafening voice of the Weyr gives notice of the impending arrival of new dragons, including a twitch from the Midas' Puzzle Egg, the real start of the show comes as Fuzzy Wuzzy Egg and Tee-Tee Egg prove they're not as soft and snuggley at they appear, the crack of shell slamming into shell and both shattering in a spray of shard and fluid onto the surrounding sand, spilling a blue and a green inelegantly onto the sands. It takes each a moment to get their bearings but both have a certain verve to their step as they each stumble in different directions and find their lifemates in swift succession. If this is a portent for the hatching on the whole, even with only just enough candidates to give a fair choice to the hatchlings, then it's a good one.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first move onto the sands is to give a bow to the clutchparents, and from far enough away that it hints to his natural reticence when it comes to what's proper with dragons. The fact that the show starts immediately has the young man stumbling in the sand just for a step. Quick look around: no one saw that, ahem. &quot;They're fast,&quot; a muttered comment as steps less sure carry him forward. Ever forward.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's job as Weyrlingmaster might be secure; she gets all of the candidates (who wanted to come) to the sands and bowing to the dam and sire on time for those eggs to crack. But those red lips of hers are pressed into a tight line as she settles into the sidelines to watch, even as she nods to an assistant to go get the dazed weyrlings that hadn't had time to settle into place.<br /> <br /> The weather isn't problematic enough to keep people from coming to the hatching, but it ''is'' snow and it ''does'' stick. High Reaches' acting weyrwoman is brushing at the white stuff on her fur-lined cloak when she finally arrives with her weyrleader. She gives up the gambit when they arrive at their designated seats in the dignitaries' section, removing said cloak altogether and situating herself on one of the cushioned seats; where upon she arranges her deep blue skirts with a polite smile to those people on either side of K'del and herself. &quot;Lovely evening for a hatching,&quot; she murmurs conversationally to the man at her elbow.<br /> <br /> From the sands, For Breirande... Well, okay; it's eye bugging time, since the hatchlings are instantly erupting. He's barely out on the Sands, bowing rigidly to the clutchparents, and unobtrusively seeking to 'hide' behind other candidates when it starts happening. Let the *true* sweating begin!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Tawny-bronze Leczuth is a silent sentinel next to his mate, allowing her exuberance to take the lead. His whirling eyes seem to take in both the quickly-filling galleries and the eggs all that once, and that before the candidates have even made it into his line of vision. He tries to see everything at once, though his projected emotions are more territorial - and proud! - than the excitement that Taeliyth shows.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Spirit's Silhouette Egg flutters, then shudders, then pops, leaving a dainty green to claw her way out of the hole poked by her muzzle, while the braided arcs of gold unravel on Caged Jewel Egg to reveal a sizable brown. The latter pauses by the former as she shakes the last bit of shard off her foot, before he's off and moving toward the ring of white-robed candidates. The green ends up finding her girl first, while the brown finds an exotic lifemate from outside the Weyr some moments later. Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it is actually ''black'' as the darkness spreads across the shell, except that the blackness is actually cracks across the surface as it continues to rock.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran stands at ease next to Dahlia and their weyrleaders, idling the time before the eggs actually start hatching by watching people shuffle into the galleries; there's only so much interest he can feign in wobbling eggs, ok!? His eyes briefly drop to the goldrider-on-her-toes, and his mouth quirks into a smile, but he's quickly back to eyeing the hatching-goers.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's just made it in time for the first shell to break; he escorts Mirinda, laughing, with a low relieved mutter that they're ''alive''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan is amongst the line of candidates emerging into the sands. Swallowing once he tries to push down his growing nerves. Remembering just in time to bow to the clutch parents, a proper bow that speaks of plenty of training, he now steps to join the others. Deep breath and 'Oh!' is exclaimed as his gaze takes in eggs shattering and hatchlings already upon the sands and finding life mates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Some of that blackness in Midas' Puzzle Egg proves that it isn't actually black at all, as that darkness seems to ''move'' from within that ever thickening middle and widening crevices. The hatchling is precise in their movements, however, as it works at the cracks until the egg falls apart to reveal that darkness as brown. Once he has achieved his new state, freed from the shell, then his attention turns to meditate on the vast array of sands and candidates before him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; The Master Within Brown &gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Coltish to a fault, this tall, dark brown has a whimsical air about him <br /> from his muzzle's dished profile all the way down, and ''down'' to his <br /> small paws. Those extremities of his are even darker than the rest, as <br /> though he'd waded hip-high in ink and trailed his tail behind him too, <br /> even splashing it up the spars of his all too expansive wings. It's a <br /> second look that might find subtler variations, the depth polished away in<br /> his softer places to tawny warmth: the velvety curve of his muzzle and the<br /> vulnerable indentation behind his jaw, and indistinct dapplings along his <br /> underbelly and the fine sails of his wings like so many ghostly <br /> fingerprints. He has a lot to grow into, not just his bony frame, before <br /> he can approach anything like grace; in the meantime he carries himself <br /> with slow, careful movements. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's first move, rather than bowing, is to lift her gaze to the stands, squinting into the dimmer seats of the galleries for a moment as she searches--. But then she has to turn away to bow, to move to settle herself into a safe place as dragons spill from their eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon is quick on his feet, ensuring he doesn't get himself hurt especially when that dainty green has to claw her way out. Can't he just stand over here? All the way in the back? &quot;Geez, she wasn't kidding in saying don't get hurt.&quot; He half-turns, &quot;Did that one-?&quot; But then there's another hatching. It's too much, almost, to keep straight.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's eyes meet Mirinda's, briefly, and then N'rov's, but the Weyrlingmaster doesn't move to join the Weyrleaders, not where she has to stay on her toes to help with the chaos on the sands and seeing weyrlings off of them.<br /> <br /> &quot;Dear fuck,&quot; exclaims Estanei, staring at the sands even while marks are being shoved into her hand. &quot;No no, it's too late now. You lost quite a bit there, D'vere. First wasn't, in fact, a bronze. Check that bronze ego of yours at the door.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's hands clap together in delight as the first shells reveal their dragons. It's A'sran's turn to be grabbed on the arm first. &quot;''Look''!&quot; as if he's not already looking, she tugs his sleeve, smile just about as wide as it's ever been seen. &quot;''Dragons''!&quot; as if she might've feared they'd hatch enormous tunnelsnakes instead. She at least lets go of his sleeve to bounce beside him without detriment to his wardrobe, though her fingers twist into the fabric of her green skirts, the dress a lovely thing for this day of celebration, if perhaps a few turns out of style.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Finally The Master Within Brown moves again, more than his first deep breaths and the extrication of his long dark tail. He's picky, step by stilted step, carefulness the only reason he doesn't fall with those long and untried legs. He's picky, but also increasingly bright-eyed as bits of shell drop away in his footsteps like so much ink-and-yellow snow. He's picky, but that goes for the candidates too now that he's spotted them; he doesn't so much approach them as walk along just inside their lines, ''searching''.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling nearly stumbles as she makes the change from hard stone to soft copper under her feet, but she recovers the forward momentum into a deep bow towards the clutch-parents. Then she delicately makes certain she is not likely to trip on anything, and she then makes her way towards the eggs, stopping a respectful, hopeful distance away.<br /> <br /> Amongst the High Reaches contingent is a small group who arrived earlier. There's a bit of discussion at the entranceway; perhaps largely owing to Quint's easy though probably-not-serious suggestion: &quot;You ''could'' come and sit with us,&quot; to Jocelyn, before his gaze sweeps the galleries and he indicates a spot down the ways, following closely on Silva's heels to the indicated seats.<br /> <br /> From the sands, 'Poor' Breirande. To relieve his overwhelmed brain from goggling at all those baby dragons spilling out of shells and rambling around choosing their lifemates, he's jerking his gaze up to the galleries, desperately seeking his mother. Luckily, he notes her quite soon, and the elegant-looking woman smiles proudly down to her child, while 'Rand's younger sibs waves and grin at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg wobbles in its wallow made of sand, warming to the thrum that reverberates through the cavern. Cream and Egg's occupant goes from statue-still to animated in a way that make the shell seem to expand in what might be a lazy stretch within, trembling for a moment as might muscles pushed to their limit. Then the breath of life so suddenly evident in the subtly speckled egg is lost as in exhale and it's terribly, utterly motionless again.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran laughs at the goldrider's exuberance, but he cannot quite help straightening his sleeve when she relinquishes it. He ''does'' step closer and leans forward, taking in the hatchlings that has thus far hatched. &quot;I hope you did not place any ''real'' bets on the results,&quot; he says, but his head lifts and his eyes slide back to N'rov. Him, too.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon inches closer now that some of the immediate chaos dies down. He checks out where some of his fellow candidates are, then chances another few steps closer to the dragonets. Though once, he half-turns and looks back at the gawking crowds in the galleries. And //that// seems to freak him out more than the dragonets, for it's face-first back to the sands!<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov's gaze cuts across Olivya's with a sudden grin at its heels; he rubs his hands together, as though still unused to the heat after the snow without, or as though it might burn off some of the adrenaline. Then he's still, still as that speckled egg. He wouldn't, surely, have bet against ''those''.<br /> From the sands, A small boy from the lower caverns, surely at the youngest limit for candidates, sidles behind his older sister, shifting uncomfortably in his sandals. &quot;Ninena, I we-,&quot; but anything else he says turns into an inaudible mumble.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown keeps walking, not quick about it but as methodical as he is with the rest of his search. Though his eyes whirl red, it's less erratically so than with most hatchlings, and though increasing ''need'' is evinced in how deeply and closely he looks, desperation doesn't take him over. Once he pauses by an older candidate, his head quirked in quizzical interest. But the next time he pauses, it's with a step forward, towards one of the youngest boys of the Weyr.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;I did!&quot; Dahlia volunteers to A'sran of bets even though she wasn't the one he was addressing, &quot;But only a little,&quot; she adds, glancing ''guiltily'' to the two Onyx riders in between the coos that are for no one at the hatchlings creating chaos some distance away.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan shifts his feet from side to side with his gaze sweeping the eggs near constantly. Only partially aware of the candidates around him he spares a quick sideways glance towards Daemon briefly.<br /> <br /> Sands coats and such Silva's dress is ''nice''. There's hints of blueish-silver trim that totally match her blue outside. A few steps in as she casts a glance back to Quint and Jocelyn, &quot;You know, like, if you ''really'' wanted to I wouldn't like... really mind.&quot; It's an invitation. Their seats are PRobABLY not as good as Jocelyn's but... friendsish?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele's fingers worry away at a piece of cloth between them, her attention kept stubbornly on the eggs and hatchlings as they pair off. Eventually, though, she glances back up again to the galleries, this time searching until she does find-- yes, ''him''. A trembling smile touches her lips then, one that likely was meant to be more reassuring.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon might have managed to give Ninwayzan a subtle brofist of encouragement if his attention wasn't mostly on the eggs and dragonets. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling licks her lips, finding a place with reasonably good footing in the sand. Then she goes still again, watching. She twirls her fingers, nervous fingers, in a lock of her hair, then runs her fingers through the tangles.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The Master Within Brown finishes with his intent study of one young Fortian boy only to turn away disappointed. His gait carefully picks across the sands, retreading steps already trod and taking a different turn at one particular juncture to inspect a candidate thus unnoticed. There is a method to his madness, a pattern discernible from aerial vantage points in the deep imprinted paths of his small paws. It's here, at this one, a petite girl with copper hair, that he perks up, suddenly interested. And then, for all of the world to see, there is the tell-tale sign of Impression as his eyes whirl in rainbow colors.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Cream and Egg briefly defies gravity as it leaves the sands fully for a brief moment after what must have been a monumental effort from the dragon within. As the creamy shell slaps back onto golden sand, the black flecks prove to be shatter points and the egg explodes on impact. In its wake is left a constellation-kissed bronze, dripping egg goo onto the sands, his look distinctly vexed. Ew. Goo.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Entangle the Stars Bronze &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Kinetic energy radiates through this dragonet's youthfully exaggerated <br /> proportions, as though it might set the nebula of his hide-- its hazy <br /> clouds of light and contrastingly swart shadows obscuring a burnished <br /> copper-bronze backdrop-- into full-fledged and characteristically <br /> unpredictable motion. Gravity might well have drawn the darkest hues <br /> towards the central part of his frame, leaving his extremities bright and <br /> nearly golden at the tips of headknobs and claws, but for the billow of <br /> deep, dusted rust across his wingsails that escapes even that. Clusters of<br /> stars stipple pale constellations across his top-line, traversing from his<br /> muzzle over his neckridges and wingspars, all the way down to the spade of<br /> his tail. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran's grin starts when he's staring at the weyrleader, but his gaze ends up focused on Dahlia. &quot;That hideous orange egg?&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Everyday Ingenuity Egg buckles at the same moment as The Image Within becomes, explosively, the Image Without. Sticky bronze wings burst through the shell of the former while the blue kicks his dark egg's remnants out of his way. The blue is on a mission where the bronze seems like he has no where to go, at first. Impression for the blue lands him a blonde girl while eventually the bronze settles on one of the taller boys in the class.<br /> <br /> Hatchlings are already afoot when Jocelyn arrives at the same time as several others from High Reaches, shedding her cloak upon entering the hatching grounds with an uncomfortable touch to the too-warm neckline of her own, blue dress. &quot;I'd like that, &quot; she says unexpectedly to Quint and Silva while they're paused in the entry, following as they navigate for a seat with a glance down to where her weyrleaders are seated. She's half-staring below while moving around people with mutters of excuse-mes and pardon-mes, exhaling with some relief as she can finally turn the whole of her attention onto the motions down on the sands once settled.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's reply is to A'sran comes with a glance askance and a murmur of, &quot;Giant, irascible bronzes.&quot; He must know the ones she means. A moment later though, she tosses him a wink. She's not telling, apparently.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon isn't sure //what// the proper etiquette is, but, &quot;Congratulations!&quot; seems to be a good response to the Impressions around him. His smile is tight only because of nervousness for sincerity lurks yet in his blue eyes. Then another dragon is hatching and with it even more, and once again, Daemon's doing the hibbie-jibbie-stay-out-of-the-way dance.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fire-Sculpted Egg stops moving abruptly, as cracks start to form at the base and spread upwards with due diligence. Meanwhile, nearly identical blues spill from Sawed Scene Egg and Folds and Wrinkles Egg within moments of one another. Both are up and moving and neither seems inclined to hurry their decisions, ranging across the sands back and forth in an almost synchronized pattern of search, each keen not to miss anything. When they find their lifemates, the two Impressees couldn't be more different: one an older, slender Monacoan and the other a very young, stocky local. The Charcoal and Graphite Egg smudges further into the sand as it wobbles in the sand. The hatchling within must be determined, as it does not even take a second's break in its continued rocking.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Egg goo is awful. Entangle the Stars Bronze Hatchling looks pitiful even with his obvious disdain for his ''drowned'' state. With forepaws touching the sand, he shakes free the worst of it, showering the nearby eggs. Now that he's as reasonably non-drippy as he can manage, he can turn his eyes curiously toward the white-robed figures ringing the eggs.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya is the first of the weyrlingmaster staff to step forward towards the newly-Impressed Catling, nodding simply towards the young girl before she commands quietly, &quot;Come with me; we have food and the barracks ready for you both.&quot; Her gaze sweeps to N'rov yet again, though, as she does so and she curves a brow at him. (This is probably how all those rumors got started, not at all because Liv's plahyer.)<br /> <br /> From the sands, A'sran is too polite to strangle a woman on the sands while her dragon's eggs are hatching, but he is probably thinking it. Definitely.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande's nod to his mother, sibs, and his greenriding step-father is a jerky, harsh thing, given his increasing agitation inside, but his resolve is screwed up another notch when he sees that pride in his mom's face. Looking back to Sands, he finds more dragons, more Impressions. Catling is one? Gulp!<br /> <br /> From the sands, The cracks on surface of the fragile-looking, Fire-Sculpted Egg grow and the shell simultaneously pulses, but then with a singular, heroic shove of darkened limbs, the dragonet within sets itself free and stands proudly in the remnants. He lifts his head resolutely, surveying his surroundings, not the least bit set aback by the sand and bits of shell stuck to his brown hide.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov exhales as that egg not only moves but breaks, but he has the remaining eggs to eye, gaze narrowed as though he could force them all to rock and hatch through sheer force of will. Luckily for Mirinda, he doesn't seem inclined to strangle either.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; Till the End of the Line Brown &gt;---------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Rich chocolate hide stretches over the small bones of this runt-sized <br /> brown, though potential awaits in the wideness of his russet-tinged wings <br /> and the ungainliness of his large-footed amble. With his warm coloring and<br /> sleek, satiny hide, he carries himself with a certain self-assurance <br /> despite those youthful disadvantages. His large and bright eyes, overset <br /> by sooty eyeridges, are a focal point of his finely crafted head, and are <br /> at odds with the perpetual, resting smirk of his mouth. Dark smatterings <br /> of copper and carmine scatter across his flanks, deepening into a large <br /> deposit of rusted shadows that stretches upward from his gleaming slate <br /> claws into the hollows of his wings. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Catling sinks to her knees, a gasp coming out of her mouth, then a soft, wordless cry. &quot;Riyoth? Riyoth.&quot; Joyous now. &quot;His name is Riyoth!&quot; A shout, triumphant, and she rises to her feet. &quot;I am ready,&quot; she says, putting her hand out to him, stroking him, then motioning towards Olivya. THis way....&quot;<br /> <br /> There's a smile for the bluerider's words, though it disappears quickly from Quint's face, as he instead glances to the sands, gaze flickering over the occupants before locating a familiar blonde figure. He exhales a breath, waiting until both Silva and Jocelyn are seated before he sinks down. For once, he doesn't have eyes for the dragons so much as for a particular occupant of the sands. &quot;That's her there, the blonde standing a bit aways,&quot; he says, with a grin. &quot;My sister.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The peculiar veneer of Jumbled Lights Eggs is broken when a bronze foot pushes through the shell, a few more shakes making it crack wide to let the dragon out. His path takes him past the trembling Windblown Wish Egg which crumples just after he passes it, revealing its dark green denizen. The bronze finds his lad first, while the green takes some time seeking her lifemate, though one is eventually selected from the offered candidates with a joyful creel. The valiant battle between the Charcoal and Graphite Egg continues undaunted by either time or the hatching of other eggs, though surely one side must be weakening by now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan simply has no words, for once, for this. Taking his his first hatching ever and doing it from the sands has left him nearly speechless indeed. Shuffling a bit to the right he peers around to see where the brown went and whom he is by. More movement of another one has him looking away quickly right after Catling announces Riyadh's name. So much to see! For the moment he focuses his gaze on the ones still moving in particular the bronze.<br /> <br /> Silva's short enough that those standing in front of her get a GLARE. Ugh. Stop being stupid people, sit down so the shorties can see. An impatient tap of Silva's toe against the floor as she edges around to get a look down below. &quot;It's like, a little different view from up here, isn't it?&quot; To Quint and Jocelyn.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon sneaks a few looks here and there, watching as Catling is lead off and studiously ignoring the crowds behind him. Does he look sick a little? Maaaaaybe, but it's patently obvious he's doing his best to hold it. &quot;Riyoth... Strong name.&quot; Talking to himself. First sign, people. There are too many dragons for him to focus on just one, so he doesn't try but instead works to keep them all in his field of vision.<br /> <br /> &quot;That one, &quot; Jocelyn repeats with a glance to Quint for confirmation, turning back again in time to see Catling get to her feet with her brown. Her eyebrows lift, and there's certainly some surprise evident in her expression - which tugs nevertheless into a small smile, particularly at Silva's remark. &quot;Only a little? Certainly less nerve-wracking.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, breathe. Breirande STAY. As dragonets whiz (or sit) by, he's very slowly and very subconsciously stepping back, back on Sands, and is only stopped in retreat by stumbling in them, jerking to right himself. By this point, his eyes should be literally exploding from his head, his limbs and eye twitching on and off. Flight seems very, very near...mother or not.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Till The End of the Line Brown Hatchling takes his time in leaving the shards of his egg behind. His process is slow and his steps deliberate, but he eventually, warily begins the arduous task of searching out his lifemate. He moves determinedly towards one group of candidates, studying them with a cautious stance; they are not to be, they are not ''his''. And on he marches, towards another group who has caught his wandering eye.<br /> <br /> From the sands, N'rov has more hatchlings to eye, now, just as assessingly as before. A brief swing of his gaze might compare the latest sire and dam anew... or just see how they're dealing with this first clutch of theirs. A'sran, then, and Dahlia, and a murmur into Mirinda's ear. &quot;Think that one's going to run,&quot; is only part of it.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's, &quot;Aww,&quot; is for no one in particular as her hands clap together again, bouncing onto her toes. It's possible the initial excitement of the hatching is starting to wear off because the junior is becoming a little more quiet, though her lifemate still watches with marked interest. She ''might'' be counting down the eggs til there are none left and she's officially ''free''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya returns to the sands with blood already staining her white, sleeveless tunic. Luckily, it isn't hers. Her first response, of course, is to survey the wreckage that has managed to happen in her brief absence and start giving orders to assistants, before she starts skirting around the edge of the clutch to get a better position. She seems to be watching Breirande more than most, likely expecting the running as well.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mm,&quot; Quint makes a noise in a way to suggest that he's listening to Silva without perhaps actually listening. He hasn't the weyrling's recent memories of their own hatching to muse over, after all. It's only the impatient tap of blue weyrling's toe that pulls his attention from the sands, however briefly; &quot;Here,&quot; he says, gesturing, &quot;Swap with me.&quot; He's tall enough to see past those in front, after all.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The likeness of the bird etched in the colors of the Charcoal and Graphite Egg is pierced cleanly through its imaginary heart with one sharp dragonet claw from within. Then the egg begins rocking again as the hatchling inside continues the fight to tear apart the egg that cages her inside as the eyes of the world watch her. It is a luminescent green that emerges victoriously, if exhausted, from the confrontation as she tumbles out of her shell, setting herself free into the uncertain world.<br /> <br /> From the sands, <br /> &gt;---&lt; As True As An Arrow Green &gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> She isn't small, for all that she's green: all elongated curves rounded by<br /> baby fat, the more remarkable for the spirited way she holds her head and <br /> the brilliance of her hue. That luminescent green, spilt along her <br /> generous torso and over high arched and gently sloped back haunches, might<br /> appear grassy in another world; here, it's liquidly glossy as though just <br /> beneath the surface of a sunlit lake. A patterned braid is faint down the <br /> length of her spine, a matte relief amidst the fluid coloring, visible <br /> only in the ''right'' light. She's all the brighter for the darkness she <br /> does possess, near-mahogany shadows that stripe behind her swept-back <br /> neckridges and beneath the lithe length of her tail; dark as well are her <br /> tiny paws' claws, dark and ''pointed''. <br /> <br /> &gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;<br /> <br /> Swapping with Quint is done before Quint's offer can be done. Even if this does settle Silva next to Jocelyn. At least she can SEE now. &quot;There's like, so many dragons walking around there.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan hasn't yet looked towards the crowd in his effort to watch each dragon in some way. Unable to watch them all of course he also tries to keep them in his field of vision. Bright green eyes follow the bronze before slipping to the brown and finally to a newly hatched green. Here he finds his voice in a low murmur of approval. Still shifting his weight from one foot to the other he seems to be managing his nerves fairly well thus far.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon hides hands that might hold a tremble still by crossing his arms across his chest. He presses his lips together and spares a moment to look at the sand beneath his (hot) sandaled (hot) feet. The crack of another egg, straight through the imaginary heart brings about his attention - back in action. &quot;Just breathe.&quot; It's a mantra. It's keeping him sane. His holdbred is showing, here.<br /> <br /> Naturally, Jo's late but at least she's here. She's quiet in arriving, scanning the stands until she spies Jocelyn with Quint and Silva before shuffling her way over to them. M'ron and Kaitlin trail behind her as she nods to those that look her way before the sand activity gets the brunt of her attention. T'gar is here as well, though he maintains keeping his distance from the Reachian group despite having settled near M'ron.<br /> <br /> From the sands, As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling isn't one to sit idle long. Indeed, she has already started to mark her battle-lines in the sands as she draws herself straight from her egg. And then she's charging them, directly towards the oldest candidate on the sands. Even Gisele's worrying at the fabric stops entirely as she holds herself still under the bright green's intense regard.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Entangle the Stars Bronze has a big decision to make. As he moves across the sands with grace uncharacteristic of the newly hatched, his eyes are already examining the faces. One might think, as a bronze, he would immediately discard the girls, but his eyes pass over them just as they do the males. He never draws too near the candidates, but rather looks from a distance at the lot.<br /> <br /> And Jocelyn actually laughs, caught up in the feelings arising from watching her first post-Impression hatching and the amusement elicited by Silva's observation. &quot;There were ''almost'' that many when we Impressed, you know, &quot; she points out, but it comes out friendly enough. &quot;You'd never seen one before you stood, did - &quot; And abruptly she leans forward as that green charges to Gisele, one hand reaching across the bluerider to make to tug at Quint's wrist. &quot;Harper!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, The plump ecru of All You Knead Egg expands like rising dough. Egg, of course, lacks the same flexibility so the expansion of the brown within, stretching in all directions at once creates confetti of his shell and leaves him tumbling back, right into the quaking orderly squares of Nine Patch Egg. In the end, it proves to be a boon to the exhausted looking blue who spills right along with his clutchmate. The noises of distress from the pairing rise, but both seem to manage to untangle themselves from the other with only minor scratches, and indeed, help is close at hand in the form of three candidates who unwisely rushed forward to try to help. They escape unscathed, though two of the three end up with a lifemate, but then that's what they came for, wasn't it? If not, too late now!<br /> <br /> &quot;Is this your first time ''watching''?&quot; Quint's finally distracted from the sands enough to ask, glancing to both Silva and Jocelyn in curiosity. The glance catches sight of a familiar bluerider and her companions, the harper lifting a hand in greeting to Jo and the other Reachians, before Jocelyn's tug draws his attention back -- though not so much to the dragon as to where she's headed, holding his breath, displaying a tension not usually so visible in the harper's demeanor.<br /> <br /> It must be boring in the VIP section, because Farideh seems to actually be ''laughing'' at something K'del says and then leans in to hear whatever the portly man at her side has to say about the hatchlings below.<br /> <br /> &quot;Well.... ''yeah'', of course. I mean, like....&quot; It's not like SOMEONE (Jocelyn) is old enough for flights yet. So there haven't been any hatchings to ''watch''. Silva doens't quite get the point of the tugging, because she's staring at Farideh and K'del. &quot;Did Farideh just like... ''laugh''?!&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon lifts his head, maybe at the feeling of being assessed from afar, or maybe it's because he catches sight of the little green's battle lines - something draws his attention back to the sands. Caught so that even the sounds of distress doesn't phase him so much as to ensure he's steps aside.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande...is afraid. Not of the baby dragons, but of losing his precious FREEDOM. Each agonizing moment, each dragonet makes his throat tighten, his heart race more, his sweat near-literally flow from pores. His family is nearly forgotten in the internal war, the teen poised on the cusp. Stay or go?<br /> <br /> From the sands, White-robed candidates keep getting in the way, and once more Till the End of the Line Brown Hatchling veers away in pursuit of something ''else''. He walks by a small girl with dark curls, stops, and then studies her with intent in his whirling eyes. It is not her that he's looking for, but it's not the stout young man standing at her side either. In frustration, he dashes away from the pair and ambles further down the line, searching.. continuously searching.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the blue and brown tumbled into three of the candidates. Surpressing a faint smile as two of them walk away with a new friend he turns away to ensure nothing is sneaking up on him. Peeking sideways towards Breirande he edges a little closer to perhaps give silent support.<br /> <br /> From the sands, A twitching tail sweeping the sand betrays Entangle the Stars Bronze's impatience. Decisions aren't to be made lightly. This candidate or that? Her? No, him? It might seem a portent of doom that he's so still for so long with his gaze finally angled and fixed on a tall, muscular young man and those in his periphery. At last, a single forepaw draws up in what might be a beckoning gesture to encourage the man across the distance that separates them. That seems to signal decision, for rainbows swirl swiftly in the bronze's many-faceted eyes and Impression is made.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Dahlia's &quot;Oh!&quot; in surprise at the way All You Knead Egg hatches leads to a grin and a glance toward Taeliyth at some silent remark from the gold. Her head lowers and nudges at Leczuth. Did he ''see'' that one? The goldrider steps a little forward as the candidates move to help the tangled, some concern showing in her expression, but it all turns out well and that has her exhaling her relief.<br /> <br /> Spotting Quint's wave, Jo grins with an indulgent nod his way as she settles in a seat close to the group. Jocelyn and Silva would get nodded greetings each too before she looks on at the Impression on the sands made with a few nodded murmuring words with Kaitlin.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele and As True As An Arrow Green Hatchling continue to stare each other down for a moment, but in the end it is the former that gives in first, looking away. The green takes that defeat with a huff, turning away herself and continuing to pick her way down the lines for her next challenge.<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;What, no blood?&quot; N'rov murmurs, a laughing undernote to his voice that carries his own relief... before he makes it all scratchy. &quot;Candidates these days, they have it so easy. Why, in ''our'' day...'<br /> <br /> From the sands, &quot;Ancient times,&quot; Dahlia observes in a low voice, though she doesn't dare look back to N'rov.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Olivya's turn is next in the rotation of weyrlingmaster staff that are seeing the weyrlings to the barracks, and so it is she that steps forward to tell Br'and, very sympathetically, &quot;Too late. Follow me.&quot; She even crooks a finger, in case he can't understand the English right now.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Valiant effort though he has given the task, Till the End of the Line Brown grows weary of the search, his movements becoming sloppy and a little agitated as he wanders through the white-robed candidates. His frustration hangs heavy on his small shoulders and sags those wide set wing sails, and he trudges along dutifully. Then, something draws his attention from this march, brightening his countenance, his eyes, and lifting those drooped wings. He sprints forward and nearly runs headlong into a tall, blonde-haired teenager; his eyes are on ''the prize''!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Low, both of them are low, and so is N'rov's silent smirk. But then, given that brown, there just might be a crash ahead.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Unbeweavable Egg has finally rolled itself out of its pile of sand through the efforts of the hatchling within, but the thumps and taps from within the shell haven't done more than to create little cracks here and there. While the hatchling's effort's continue, it's clutchsister finds success in flopping out of the remains of In the Round Egg, only managing to destroy half the shell in her daring escape. A second green joins the first as Unbeweavable Egg splits apart at long last and the two play a game of seek and find, finding their lifemates waiting among the remaining candidates.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon's first response is to reach out into the nothingness before him, and yet feet are dragged across the sands as the chains of his old life fall behind him in favor of what lies //ahead//. &quot;D'aeo.&quot; He tests his new name, sounds it out on his tongue in the barest breath before he is beckoned and claimed. <br /> <br /> &quot;Zvaezdiyth.&quot; A trip of syllables that yet come out perfect, a mouthful. And his hands come to rest on starry-bronze hide and a sigh escapes. Still, no one sees how his hand shakes, right?! Impression has only somewhat quashed the awkward. Just a wee. &quot;Right. I'm supposed to do something...&quot; As if in a dream, he lifts his head and - what, exactly?<br /> <br /> Quint hasn't any attention to spare the Reachian dignitaries; he's actually leaning forward in his seat. When the green turns away from his sister, there's an exhaled breath that sounds suspiciously like relief from the harper, tension fading from his posture.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ninwayzan fidgeting and shuffling is increasing in small increments the longer the hatching continues. Time seems to be moving both quickly and too slowly all at once for the Baker apprentice turned candidate. As people around him impress to leave him slightly off by himself a bare hint of an uncertain frown etches into his expression. It's a fleeting one that he squelches in time to call out quiet congratulations towards the latest impresses.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is calm, reserved Pasna that comes for Daemon with the answer to that question, saying, &quot;He'll need to be fed. We have food in the barracks.&quot; She will even lead the way, not trusting him to find it on his own in the daze of the moment.<br /> <br /> Weyrbred Jocelyn has undoubtedly watched many a hatching, but she's too busy watching what's going on below with a side-look for Quint's posture to follow whatever's captured Silva's attention about their weyrleaders. And as the green moves on, she deflates slightly in her seat, lips pursing. She'll be disappointed for Gisele, even if the candidate's brother doesn't seem to be. And she says so: &quot;There may yet be another.&quot;<br /> <br /> From the sands, Daemon blinks at Pasna, and nods. &quot;Right. Uh. Food? This way?&quot; He's still learning how you ''talk'' to a dragon. And reeling. But out he goes!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Breirande, turn! Brieirand RUN! Run for your freedom! Except that, as he staring wide-eyed at Ninwayzan, then pivoting about to do exactly that...he's run down by a dragonet, and falls in a heap to the Sands. Trying not to scream like a little girl, limbs and body flailing to protect himself from the little brown predator... What?! Still huge-eyed and gasping for breath, the teen stares up into Kahvaroeth's rainbow eyes...and turns aside as he suddenly throws up all over the sands. Ewwww.<br /> <br /> From the sands, The adventure that As True As An Arrow Green has carried on with must come to an end eventually; there are, after all, only so many candidates to inspect with her thorough regard. There's the lower caverns girl paused at but walked past, and then the boy from Ruatha, who stumbles backwards and is dismissed. Then, it happens as she stops suddenly and quirks her head as if listening to something that only she can hear, before she just as quickly changes her direction with an abruptness that has her rushing off towards one last candidate. She stops in front of a baker, taking a deep breath as her eyes whirl up at him.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's expression is quite comical as it goes from trying to hide disappointment to suddenly being quite bright and open. His eyes stare unfocused briefly as he reaches out to touch the green who is there oh so suddenly. &quot;Oh!&quot; he says weakly. &quot;I've been here all along.&quot; he pauses. &quot;I'm hungry too!&quot;<br /> It takes a moment, ''moments'', longer for the harper to find his voice. &quot;Perhaps,&quot; Quint replies, noncommittally, to Jocelyn, his gaze glued to the sands.<br /> <br /> Silva shakes off her suprise and turns back to Jocelyn and Quint. &quot;Does she like... want to impress?&quot; Yes, Silva will care about something outside for just a moment. Quint's sister.<br /> <br /> From the sands, It is a distinctive, disbelieving huff that escapes from Yuanth as she stares up at Ay'zan, but then she's distracted by the approach of the Weyrlingmaster as Olivya arrives to escort them off the sands. &quot;I have food ready for her; you should have ate before,&quot; is said as if picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. But, likely, there will be food for Ay'zan too where Olivya leads.<br /> <br /> From the sands, Fort's Weyrleaders draw the remaining candidates to them, N'rov standing at Mirinda's shoulder. They have quiet words of commiseration but also of appreciation for the candidates' being here, for their ''trying'', for the difference it may have meant. All the eggs hatched, with none left to take ''between''; all the hatchlings are healthy; ''they'' are healthy too, and will live to Stand again if their ages suit and they so choose (and if they weren't too much of a pain, but for the moment that can go unsaid). Those who came from holds may return, but they'll always have this to remember it all by. This, and ''food'', that interrupted meal: time to finish, and feast!<br /> <br /> From the sands, Gisele doesn't linger on the sands, without a lifemate. She only barely makes it all the way through N'rov's speech before she retreats quickly.<br /> From the sands, Ay'zan's a bit unwilling to take his eyes off Yuanth though he does so briefly as Olivya approaches. &quot;Wasn't hungry.&quot; he mumbles apologetically. &quot;C'mon Yuanth.&quot; her name rolls easily off his tongue. &quot;Let's go find food.&quot; for her at the very least.<br /> <br /> Eyes more gray than blue lift from the sands to regard Quint evenly at Silva's question, eyebrows lifting. &quot;Was her Impression wanted?&quot; Jocelyn could be asking the same question as her fellow weyrling as the final pairs are made save for the pointed way she looks at the harper afterward, glancing down again in time to watch the candidate they're discussing make a quick exit.<br /> <br /> Quint shakes his head for a moment at Silva's question. Then: &quot;She thinks she does,&quot; he finally says, gaze flickering towards the Weyrleaders as they give their speech, though only briefly: watching his sister retreat off the sands, instead.<br /> <br /> Silva's a little more serious now, &quot;It's not what she would expect.&quot; Silva, actually sounding adult. &quot;I think I need to go for a moment, I'll come find you a little later?&quot; That to Quint, before Silva starts edging her way out.<br /> <br /> Jocelyn watches Silva depart with a look that's thoughtful, attention returning to Quint after with a direct stare now that the younger rider's no longer blocking part of her visual field. &quot;She thinks she does, &quot; she repeats, expectantly. &quot;Are you glad that she didn't?&quot; As people around them start to get up and head for the entry, she gathers her skirts and rises. &quot;Are you going to the celebration? Going to find her?&quot;<br /> <br /> The hatching is over and that means there's nothing more to see. Nothing more that Farideh could want to see anyway one the dragons have all been led away. She makes a little more small talk with her sea neighbor and even allows him to help her into her cloak again, but then she's following K'del towards the stairs. It's not coincidence that her eyes skim over the High Reachians, lingering particularly on Jo and finally, Jocelyn. There's no words, and soon, she's back out in the snow, presumably headed to the feast.<br /> <br /> Quint gives a silent nod towards Silva, and habit makes him stand as the blue weyrling does too. &quot;Irrelevant now, wouldn't you say?&quot; comes the harper's response to Jocelyn, an attempt at softening it with one of his familiar, easy smiles. &quot;Yes,&quot; the latter question of the gold weyrling's is answered more directly. &quot;You?&quot; he offers her an elbow in anticipation.<br /> <br /> Relevant or not, Jocelyn's stare remains, brow furrowing for that easy, oft-seen smile. &quot;You certainly seem to think so, &quot; she says at last, neutrally, reaching to take his elbow after a momentary pause. &quot;I should put in an appearance, although I don't expect to stay for terribly long.&quot; If the line of her jaw tightens briefly when she meets Farideh's eyes, well. They'll see each other soon enough.<br /> |Categories=Hatching Logs, Search Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Sweet_Dreams&diff=85083 2016-02-27T14:55:05Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Drex, |what=Drex has a dream. Farideh has opinions. |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=15 |month=2 |tu...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Drex,<br /> |what=Drex has a dream. Farideh has opinions.<br /> |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=15<br /> |month=2<br /> |turn=40<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.02.26<br /> |quote=&quot;Why the fuck you are grilling me over a ''dream''?&quot;<br /> |weather=Snow. Ew.<br /> |mentions=Miule, Joremy, Wulfan, Yuliye, Jo, B'ren, J'vain, Tristen<br /> |type=Log<br /> |ooc=Mushy couple stuff. The usual.<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh cheeky.png, Icon drex thoughtful.jpg,<br /> |log=It's the middle of the night, and with the hearth mostly burned down the air has chilled somewhat. Still, it's warm under the pile of furs on the bed, Drex's snores are nearly inaudible. Maybe that's why he can be heard mumbling something. And then there's a bit of a moan. He says it again, and this time it's definitely not Farideh's name he's calling in his sleep. <br /> <br /> Sleep is a luxury that Farideh, still in place of their erstwhile weyrwoman, can't do without. It starts with a furrow of brow in her sleep, and then a frown, before she sighing loudly and turning her head to squint a bleary eye at her bedmate. &quot;Drex,&quot; isn't more than a whisper, but she sounds irritated and exasperated all in one.<br /> <br /> There's a mutter from Drex as she says his name. &quot;Mi-&quot; he moans again. &quot;Miule,&quot; he exhales the name of Ista's young Lady Holder, something imploring in his voice.<br /> <br /> It takes a moment-- or two-- for the actual name to sink in beyond sleep-fog. Farideh struggles to her elbows, half-sitting up and staring, with growing annoyance, at the man at her side. &quot;Drex,&quot; comes with a slight nudge this time; ''perhaps'' she's waiting for him to say something more incriminating, because women are tricky like that.<br /> <br /> &quot;Love,&quot; Drex sighs, and then a moment later, &quot;Miiiule,&quot; and then he's being elbowed, and he's blinking in confusion, eyes barely open. &quot;Eh. ''What''?&quot;<br /> <br /> Who doesn't love being woken up and having a finger shoved in their face? It happens. &quot;Why are you moaning about Lady Miule in your sleep? Do you have sex dreams about her?&quot; Farideh continues to look annoyed.<br /> <br /> &quot;What?&quot; Drex repeats, blankly, before the question sets in, and eyes widen as he twists onto his side to face Farideh. &quot;What? ''No!''&quot; he denies hotly, then pauses. &quot;I dunno. Maybe?&quot; he yawns. &quot;You said it was ok.&quot; Under the covers, his hand sneaks up to brush over Farideh's thigh.<br /> <br /> &quot;No? Maybe? Can't make up your mind?&quot; Farideh's eyes narrow briefly, and she makes a desultory sound as she lets her arms slide and one again becomes supine. &quot;When did I ever say you could have sex dreams about Lady Miule? Do you ''like'' her? Have you even ever ''seen'' her? I think she's kind of--&quot; Searching for the words, eyes on the ceiling, &quot;..homely.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;In my dream,&quot; Drex explains, logically. &quot;She came onto me, and I was like, no, I have a girl, and then you were there, and I was telling you about Miule and you kind of sighed and gave me a pass, but you said it was only because it was a dream.&quot; He makes a noise that might be disagreement with Farideh's assessment of the Ista Lady's hotness, but apparently he thinks better of voicing any objection aloud, considering that hand of his that's now trailing along Farideh's leg.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're ''lying'',&quot; Farideh says, laughingly. &quot;I heard you say ''I love you, Miule''. So, now you ''love'' her? Do you have a crush on her? You didn't even say ''my'' name.&quot; It's either the sleepiness or she's, mid-night, in a good mood, for now. Enough that she's not pushing him away or pouting, but studies him with a half-smile.<br /> <br /> &quot;No, I told ''you'' I love you fer giving me the pass--&quot; Drex stops, frowns, and his wandering hand stops, too. &quot;Why the fuck you are grilling me over a ''dream''?&quot; He shakes his head. &quot;Saw her a few times at Ista, mostly from afar. She's probably stuck up, would never even look at me twice.&quot; His hand moves again, this time going to a very deliberately distracting locale. Maybe it'll distract her from the fact he never answered her question about a crush.<br /> <br /> &quot;You don't know me well enough, then. I would ''never'',&quot; note fake smile, &quot;give you a ''pass''. Why are ''you'' getting so defensive about a ''dream''?&quot; Farideh shoves her hand under the overs to move ''his'' hand away -- not while they're arguing! -- and then rolls right into his side; the better to stare at him purposefully. &quot;So? Do you have a crush on her big googly eyes?&quot;<br /> <br /> Drex stares at her silently for a moment, his distraction foiled but attention still on Farideh as his hand retreats for now. &quot;Tell me you aint never had a sex dream about someone other than me.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I ''have'',&quot; Farideh confesses, looking less concerned by her admission as she does sleepy. &quot;Especially when Roszadyth is-- you know. That doesn't have anything to do with your crush on Lady Miule. Do you want me to introduce you? There's ''perks'',&quot; she tells him, schooling her features into seriousness.<br /> <br /> When she confesses, Drex's lips purse. &quot;Bet you dreamed about Wulfan... or was it Joremy? Or do you prefer the old wrinkled men like B'ren or J'vain?&quot; He makes a noise, not-quite-choking as she offers to introduce him. Even he's not that stupid, even if half asleep: &quot;Fuck no.&quot; Probably the wrong expletive with which to profess his vehement reaction, all things considered.<br /> <br /> ''That'' gets a speculative stare. &quot;How do you know who they ''are''? Have you been ''reading''?&quot; Farideh looks shocked at that thought, but purse her lips and carries on conversationally, &quot;I suppose one upon a time I did. When you're young and they're the only ones around that aren't related to you, or ''old''-- Joremy, for sure. He's very handsome.&quot; She sighs. &quot;B'ren? J'vain? No. They're very, very old,&quot; she says, rolling her eyes. &quot;Are you ''sure''? You can tell her all about how much you looove her.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I--&quot; Drex looks guilty, then ''angry'' about looking guilty. &quot;Asked about Igen blood, after I found out ''you'' were one,&quot; he says, and then rolls his eyes. &quot;All anyone talked about was how Joremy was supposed to save everyone from... ''something'', no one was ever specific about ''what''. Sounds to me like he pulled off a proper mutiny. On a boat, Wulfran would've made him walk the plank.&quot; He gives a snort at that last. &quot;Then I can tell her how you gave me permission and then told me you wanted to ''watch'',&quot; he says, with a smug sort of ''grin''.<br /> <br /> &quot;You could have asked ''me'',&quot; Farideh says softly, after his bouts of guilty-angry. &quot;We aren't on a boat ''and''-- I don't think what Lord Joremy was right either, but--&quot; She frowns. &quot;He was putting the Hold in a hole. A very expensive hole. Thankfully, my uncle and the other holders had better luck and kept everything from sinking. Lord Joremy thought taking over would be the best thing to do in the situation, I suppose. I haven't talked to him since before that so I don't know exactly,&quot; she shrugs one shoulder. &quot;And watch you tell her husband, Lord Tristen.&quot; Because, obviously. <br /> <br /> &quot;Could've,&quot; Drex acknowledges, with an exhale. &quot;Wanted to hear from someone else.&quot; He shifts, so he's lying on his back, too, one hand propped under his head, staring at the ceiling. &quot;He could watch, too,&quot; he says, after some moments of silence passes, grinning.<br /> <br /> &quot;Why?&quot; is Farideh's question. &quot;''Most'' people here don't know a ''terrible'' lot about things in Igen.&quot; She gives him a long, considering look, and then rolls her eyes. &quot;You're horrible and I should be mad,&quot; but-- ''but''! &quot;I'm still curious what has you so hung up on Lady Miule. I find Lady Yuliye is much prettier.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Just interested in what ''people'' say,&quot; Drex says with one of his half shrugs. &quot;Talked to a lot of sailors of out Igen. I mean, that's how you find out what a Captain is like. You talk to the crew, y'know? You don't talk to the first mate, because of course he's gonna have his Cap'n's back.&quot; It all seems pretty straightforward, at least as far as the sailor is concerned. He grins, now, when Farideh admits she's not mad. &quot;You weren't mad in the dream, neither,&quot; he says, as if that somehow proves his dream was some kind of prophetic vision. &quot;Just kind of rolled yer eyes -- just like that.&quot; He gives another of those half shrugs. &quot;Yuliye? Aint she ''old''?&quot; He makes a face, and then, &quot;I dunno. Maybe I just have a thing for pretty, Blooded brunettes, eh?&quot; he shifts, so that he's half leaning across her, chin resting on her shoulder.<br /> <br /> &quot;That doesn't make any sense,&quot; says the non-sailor, frowning deeply. &quot;You want to ask ''Igenites'' how Igen is, like ''me'', from ''Igen''. What ''did'' they say anyway? Just about Joremy and Wulfan?&quot; Farideh seems interested, but slightly suspicious, as if he's waiting to spring something on her later; one of those not-appreciated surprises. &quot;It's never happening,&quot; she laughs, and then stifles a yawn. &quot;Hm? Yuliye? I guess she is, but she's still ''beautiful''. You won't think I'm beautiful when I'm old just because I'm ''old''?&quot; About brunettes-- well, she looks less pleased about ''that'', though what can she do when he's leaning on her.<br /> <br /> &quot;You aint been an Igenite in... ages.&quot; Drex says, with finality. &quot;Oh, you know. This and that. Aint one to repeat gossip.&quot; He might just look a mite bit pleased that he knows something she doesn't, but then again, maybe he's still thinking about the sex dream with a certain Lady Holder. &quot;Yes, but I'll be old too, so it won't matter. She's like... old enough to be my ''mother'',&quot; the sailor faux shudders. Such loving reassurance, as he resettles, turning his head so that it rests near the curve of her neck, one arm stretching out over her.<br /> <br /> &quot;I'm Reachian with Igen blood,&quot; Farideh is quick to defend, however displeased she seems with the actual phrase once it's out of her mouth. &quot;Have you ever ''seen'' her?&quot; She's not to be swayed from her idolization, though she does lean into him more when he resettles. &quot;You're terrible and you have a crush on Lady Miule. ''Terrible''.&quot; Sigh. &quot;But if you're ''done'' have sex dreams about her-- can we go back to sleep, now?&quot;<br /> <br /> Drex gives a little grunt. &quot;Probably don't want to go around telling people. Too ''much'' Igen blood, is what they say here.&quot; He makes another little noise, that might be denial, or could just be a stifled yawn. &quot;Fine, but if she comes into my dreams again and you tell me it's ok, I aint gonna apologize for it.&quot; Because dream Farideh is clearly more knowledgeable about these things. &quot;You oughta loosen up and just join next time, y'know,&quot; he mumbles reproachfully.<br /> <br /> A glare is tossed at Drex before Farideh is attempting to roll away and onto her side. &quot;No. Enjoy yourself. I'll be too busy have my own sex dreams about Lord Wulfan and Joremy, and every bronzerider in the Weyr, and maybe your good friend Jo too.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''Fine''. But you know Jo wouldn't share with a bronzerider.&quot; Drex, with the implanting suggestions just before he drifts off to sleep.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Fast&diff=85065 2016-02-23T20:04:22Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Fast]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Alida (17:26, 18 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> DeLIGHTful! &lt;3<br /> ==Roz (12:04, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> Ohai. So cute.</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:The_Claiming_of_Things&diff=85064 2016-02-23T20:03:28Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:The Claiming of Things]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (12:03, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> Can't.<br /> <br /> '''Even'''.</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Compounding_Attitude&diff=85063 2016-02-23T20:02:52Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Compounding Attitude]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (12:02, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> Just leave Silva alone! Drex is the worst! ... &lt;3 ahaha. This was a fun read. I enjoyed seeing those two together.</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Beating_the_Blizzard&diff=85062 2016-02-23T20:02:05Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Beating the Blizzard]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (12:02, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> This was kind of cute. &lt;3 :D</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Planning_Murder&diff=85061 2016-02-23T19:59:57Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Planning Murder]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (11:59, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> I can imagine a few people they'd both like to murder, though perhaps Liv more than N'rov. Go go team WL+WLM. Enjoyed the scene!</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Understanding_Others&diff=85060 2016-02-23T19:53:26Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Understanding Others]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (11:53, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> The face on Quint's icon, lol.<br /> ==Roz (11:53, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> Also, good scene, guys! :D</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Understanding_Others&diff=85059 2016-02-23T19:53:07Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Roz - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Understanding Others]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Roz (11:53, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> The face on Quint's icon, lol.</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84933 2016-02-05T17:22:50Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body=<br /> == Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84932 2016-02-05T17:21:46Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body=|<br /> == Description ==<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> <br /> {{wysk}}<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84931 2016-02-05T17:20:33Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body={{#pagetitle: Farideh, High Reaches Jr. Weyrwoman}} <br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> ---------&lt;br&gt;<br /> == Description ==&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> ------<br /> {{wysk}} <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84930 2016-02-05T17:17:08Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body={{#pagetitle: Farideh, High Reaches Jr. Weyrwoman}} <br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> ---------&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Description'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> ------<br /> {{wysk}} <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84929 2016-02-05T17:16:11Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body={{#pagetitle: Farideh, High Reaches Jr. Weyrwoman}} <br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Description'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> ------<br /> {{wysk}} <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> }<br /> <br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs_talk:Self-Made_Jerks&diff=84928 2016-02-05T14:57:34Z

<p>Roz: Comment provided by Farideh - via ArticleComments extension</p> <hr /> <div>&lt;noinclude&gt;Comments on [[Logs:Self-Made Jerks]]<br /> ----- __NOEDITSECTION__&lt;/noinclude&gt;<br /> <br /> ==Farideh (06:57, 5 February 2016 (PST)) said... ==<br /> <br /> This is why we can't have nice things! I'm disowning both of you.</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Like_Father_Like_Son&diff=84862 2016-02-01T03:43:03Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, K'del |what=Hungover Farideh talks to K'del about his sons. |where=Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=13 |month=12 |turn=...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, K'del<br /> |what=Hungover Farideh talks to K'del about his sons.<br /> |where=Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=13<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.01.31<br /> |quote=&quot;Seems like... whatever he does, whomever he ''is'', he's got to deal with being my son.&quot;<br /> |mentions=Kasey, N'klas<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh can't even.png, Icon k'del ffs.jpg,<br /> |log=The day is early yet and the council chambers are already occupied by the acting weyrwoman. As is customary, there are the usual refreshments -- klah, water, juice, snacks -- and paperwork on the table, but the woman herself is slouched unseemly in the lead chair. She's got her arms crossed on the table, her head pillowed by them, and her whole appearance looks-- disheveled, not very Farideh-like. Otherwise, it's another ''day'' and oh is it ''bright''!<br /> <br /> Enter K'del, who is chirpily cheerful, really (probably because he visited his family last night, and has been up for hours-- hurray for time differences!). Of course, he pauses just in front of the opposite end of the table from Farideh, studying the goldrider with a mildly concerned expression set into his face. &quot;You... all right there?&quot;<br /> <br /> There's a few sounds that are made, perhaps they're muttered words, that only start making themselves more clear when she lifts her head from the sanctuary of her arms. &quot;No. I ''might'' have drank too much last night,&quot; Farideh admits, not the least bit repentant, though she does sound regretful for obvious reasons. &quot;I can't decide if I want to puke or pass out,&quot; is muttered against her hand, which she scrubs against her face. &quot;Do I look horrible?&quot; She sounds hopeful.<br /> <br /> &quot;You look...&quot; K'del hesitates, which is probably not a great start, but perhaps he's trying to decide if honesty is the best option at this point. &quot;Like you could use some more sleep, mostly. Can I get you some klah or something? Fried food?&quot; Both hands rest upon the back of the nearest chair, the man hovering rather than moving to sit.<br /> <br /> &quot;Water?&quot; The hand shoves roughly through her hair before she sits up, only to slouch with a groan. &quot;I don't think I could eat anything right now. Why does anyone drink this much? I see them in Snowasis, drinking ''pitchers'',&quot; Farideh says, squeezing her eyes shut, but not for long. When they open again, they seek out K'del, however squinted they are against the sunlight that comes in from the tunnel. &quot;Your son was there, last night.&quot;<br /> <br /> K'del stays where he is a few moments longer, then crosses around the table to fetch the requested water. &quot;Some people have higher alcohol tolerance than others, I suppose,&quot; he says, evenly. &quot;Think I'm too old to be okay with-- well. Was he?&quot; There's a twitch to his voice, a kind of uneasiness, as if... well, let's face it: as old as one's children gets, who wants to know that they were at a drunken party?<br /> <br /> &quot;I don't remember ever being this-- no, I do.&quot; That realization just makes the goldrider sigh all over again, tugging at the wrinkled sleeve of her sweater. &quot;Yes, he was. I wasn't aware until ''then'', but he seems to have made an unlikely bond with T'gar. It's interesting-- but he's ''just like you'', did you know?&quot; And that ''might'' be something desultory in her voice, except it's hard to tell if it's that or continued pain from her situation; her wince suggests the latter. &quot;Face and everything.&quot;<br /> <br /> The glass of water is set down in front of Farideh, in easy reach, even if it means reaching over her shoulder to place it there. K'del hesitates behind the goldrider for a few seconds more, then crosses back to a safer distance-- and one where he can actually see her face. &quot;He's not, if you get to know him,&quot; he offers. &quot;Though I'll grant you some superficial similarities. Is it weird?&quot; It is weird. For K'del, at least.<br /> <br /> If the proximity makes the weyrleader anxious, its makes Farideh embarrassed, with a glance back at him and a hurried glance forward, at that glass. She's reaching for it as she says, &quot;You think? I find him a lot similar in temperament, but perhaps I'm biased.&quot; It's half the glass that she polishes off before she sits back, eyeing K'del. &quot;At least he's got your good looks, if not your ambition.&quot; Is that a compliment? Must be the hangover.<br /> <br /> That makes K'del laugh, but he's nice about it: it's very, very quiet. &quot;Probably better for all of us, isn't it, if it's that way around? Kasey's the ambitious one. Nik... Well. We'll see what happens once he's been out in the wings a few turns. We can see what happens.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Is that what you ''hope''? He told me he wants to be ''a bluerider'',&quot; Farideh confesses, clearly struggling to even functional. &quot;Kasey,&quot; she sighs, scrubbing at her face with her fingers again, roughly enough that it reddens her cheeks, &quot;your other son, the one who didn't Impress. Will he Stand again? It might not be for-- let us hope ''turns'', but he's young, yes?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Something wrong with him being a bluerider? Seems like... whatever he does, whomever he ''is'', he's got to deal with being my son. Why shouldn't he want to have nothing to do with all of that?&quot; K'del's not bothered by it, plainly-- or at least is doing a very good job of pretending not to be bothered. &quot;He'll Stand again. He'd've left us and Stood elsewhere if he could, but first there was the plague, and now... it's hard for him, watching Nik.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''No'',&quot; Farideh expostulates, loudly. &quot;But I already know he's a bluerider.&quot; She's too bothered by her extenuating circumstances to put ''much'' feeling into the words, but it's a tad dry, and perhaps the reason she compares father to son. &quot;It will happen. I'm sure. He's ''your'' son, after all. If you'll--&quot; Hurriedly, she puts a hand to her mouth, and shoves back her chair. &quot;I have to go,&quot; as she racing towards the exit. Bye!<br /> <br /> &quot;... bye.&quot; K'del, amused, glances around the now-empty room. He's unexepectedly free? Yes, he's unexpectedly free.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84853 2016-01-31T15:40:35Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body={{#pagetitle: Farideh, High Reaches Jr. Weyrwoman}} <br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> ------<br /> {{wysk}} <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> <br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Farideh&diff=84852 2016-01-31T15:39:51Z

<p>Roz: Farideh's Witch's Brew</p> <hr /> <div>{{ProfileTabs<br /> |picture=FaridehProf.jpg<br /> |body={{#pagetitle: Farideh, High Reaches Jr. Weyrwoman}} <br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> {{:Farideh/Description}}<br /> ------<br /> {{wysk}} <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> =Roszadyth=<br /> {{DragonTab}}<br /> <br /> =Clutches=<br /> <br /> [[Clutch:129|Autumn 2015 Clutch]]<br /> &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dame:'' Gold Roszadyth&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Sire:'' Bronze Lythronath&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Eggs:'' 13&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Theme:'' Scary Places + Things That Go Bump In The Night&lt;br&gt;<br /> ''Dragons:'' 1 gold, 2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, 5 green &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> {{Progeny}}<br /> <br /> = History =<br /> <br /> {{:Farideh/History}}<br /> <br /> <br /> = Relationships =<br /> <br /> {{Family}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Father<br /> {{!}}Korek<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=808905600}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Sister<br /> {{!}}Teoma<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1202256000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Brother-in-law<br /> {{!}}Mishal<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1159891200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Esmeride<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1409904000}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Niece<br /> {{!}}Celiene<br /> {{!}}Child<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1438243200}}<br /> {{!}}-<br /> {{!}}Uncle<br /> {{!}}Pavrol<br /> {{!}}Holder<br /> {{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=723772800}}<br /> {{!}}}<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Blood'''<br /> <br /> [[Anatolia]]: I love you, but I don't like you. You always wanted me to be ''you'' and I can only be ''me''. I won't apologize for that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Korek:''' I've challenged ''everything'' and become a burden, but I still hope you miss me as much as I miss you.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Pavrol:''' I wish I had your nerve, your steel. Maybe ''no day'' I'll be half the leader you are.&lt;br&gt; <br /> '''Teoma:''' Will I ''ever'' see you again? I'm sure you've made a lovely mother.&lt;br&gt; <br /> [[Ethran]]: I will move mountains for you. I love you so. &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Inner Circle'''<br /> <br /> [[Lys]]: I'm happy you found the lifemate you always wanted. I hope life is everything you could want, now.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'mic]]: You’ve always been a little ‘’odd’’, but you’re a ‘’good’’ person and I ‘’trust’’ you more than I should. Please, don’t ever change.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Drex]]: This has never been easy, but it’s better than not having you, not being ‘’with’’ you. I don’t want to give you up.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Quinlys]]: You’re both my teacher and someone I confide in. You’re fearless, impassioned, enjoyable, and a great listener. However, I wish things were different, had been different, sometimes.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jo]]: You're dangerous for more than one reason, but I can't help being drawn to you. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[C'ris]]: You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. I'm happy you want to be friends, and I hope to be a great one to you in return.<br /> &lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> '''Political''' <br /> <br /> [[Irianke]]: I’m worried you’ll end up hating me. That you hate me ‘’now’’. I’ve disappointed you already, and I know I will again, but I’m ‘’trying’’, I really am.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'del]]: It would be premature to say I ''like'' you, but I'm glad you're here to help. I'm glad you don't laugh in my face when I don't know what I'm doing. Thank you for.. being you, for once.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Yuliye]]: Time and experiences have separated us, but you’re still someone I look up to. You’re a real lady, no matter what anyone else says.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Joremy]]: You’ll do what’s best for Igen, I know you will, and I’m ‘’sorry’’, really sorry, it had to happen the way it did.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Wulfan]]: I don't know what happened. I won't ever know, but I'll always remember you as the man I thought you were, not as you really are.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Jocelyn]]: I like you much better than I did before, but.. this won't be easy. I'm sorry. We'll get through it together.<br /> [[N'rov]]: I'm happy for you. Weyrleader of Fort. You've got such a fancy title now, but I hope you stay the same.<br /> <br /> '''Other'''<br /> <br /> [[Itsy]]: Crazy, no-business-being-a-captain-of-a-ship, bitch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[K'zin]]: You’ve grown on me, in that ‘ugly sweater that’s really old but somehow comfortable’ sort of way.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Leova]]: You’ve seen me at my weakest and yet I hardly know you. It makes me uneasy. I ‘’want’’ to think you’re on my side, though.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Telavi]]: I’m not sure ‘’why’’ you put up with K’zin. But, I like you. A lot. &lt;br&gt;<br /> [[Edyis]]: Things change, people change. I wish you well in everything you do. I just hope you get over whatever it is that's been following you around. You deserve at least that.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[A'rist]]: ....&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[V'ret]]: I don't know what I did to deserve your hate, and I'm starting not to care. You're just another insufferable bronzerider.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [[T'gar]]: And you, you're just as insufferable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> = Soundtrack =<br /> <br /> {{{!}}style=&quot;width: 100%;&quot;<br /> {{!}}-valign=&quot;top&quot;<br /> {{!}}style=&quot;width: 50%;{{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0 Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)]<br /> :''Ain't runnin' from myself no more<br /> :''I'm ready to face it all<br /> :''If I lose myself, I lose it all<br /> <br /> :''I've outrun the fears that chased, they're standing still<br /> :''I'm running still, I'm running still<br /> <br /> :''Where else can I go? Where else can I go?<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXmLjbTBcdU Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness]<br /> :''Oh, she may be weary<br /> :''Young girls they do get weary<br /> :''Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah<br /> :''But when she gets weary<br /> :''Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKnG2d9tZdU Halsey - Hold Me Down]<br /> :''My demons are begging me to open up my mouth<br /> :''I need them mechanically make the words come out<br /> :''They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce<br /> :''Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about<br /> <br /> :''Hold me down, hold me down<br /> :''Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E Echosmith - Bright]<br /> :''Did you see that shooting star tonight?<br /> :''Were you dazzled by the same constellation?<br /> :''Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?<br /> :''I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right<br /> :''Cause now I'm shining bright, so bright<br /> :''And I get lost in your eyes<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yg05svXp98 Miranda Lambert - Mama's Broken Heart]<br /> :''Powder your nose, paint your toes<br /> :''Line your lips and keep 'em closed<br /> :''Cross your legs, dot your eyes<br /> :''And never let 'em see you cry<br /> <br /> :''Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady<br /> :''Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together<br /> :''Even when you fall apart<br /> <br /> <br /> {{!}}<br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYFzCXWnCg Rihanna - Toward The Sun]<br /> :''Turn your face towards the sun<br /> :''Let the shadows fall behind you<br /> :''Don't look back, just carry on<br /> :''And the shadows will never find you<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzzr7RbzUTs Lady Antebellum - American Honey]<br /> :''She grew up good<br /> :''She grew up slow<br /> :''Like American honey<br /> <br /> :''Couldn't wait to get going<br /> :''But wasn't quite ready to leave<br /> :''So innocent, pure and sweet<br /> <br /> :''Gone for so long now<br /> :''I gotta get back to her somehow<br /> :''To American honey<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP1F1-zZZes Jillian Jacqueline - Overdue]<br /> :''I put the same old bandaids on the same stupid scars<br /> :''Couldn't get a no where fast cause I don't know where to start<br /> :''I've gone a little bit crazy thinking a little bit too much<br /> <br /> :''I'm so overdue<br /> :''For a little bit too good to be true<br /> :''For a ticket to a life with a better view<br /> :''I'm tried of waiting<br /> :''For the winds to change and catch by breath<br /> <br /> * [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Uw6ZkbsAH8 Coldplay - Princess of China]<br /> :''Once upon a time, we burned bright<br /> :''Now all we ever seem to do is fight<br /> :''On and on...<br /> :''And on and on and on...<br /> <br /> :''I could've been a princess, you'd be a king<br /> :''Could've had a castle, and worn a ring<br /> :''But no, you let me go<br /> <br /> {{!}}}<br /> <br /> = Extras =<br /> <br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> Every witch needs a good potion to knock off her enemies.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> '''Farideh's Witch's Brew'''&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> *Dragon's breath<br /> *Eye of weyrleader<br /> *Tongue of weyrling<br /> *Bronzerider tears<br /> *Firelizard wing<br /> *Lavender<br /> <br /> Everytime I do this damn quiz I get a different answer, ''but'', Farideh has grown a lot, so I guess it's right:<br /> <br /> &lt;strike&gt;[http://www.16personalities.com/enfj-personality ENFJ Personality - 'the Protagonist']&lt;br&gt;<br /> People are drawn to strong personalities, and ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. &lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;<br /> <br /> [http://www.16personalities.com/estj-personality ESTJ Personality - 'the Executive']&lt;br&gt;<br /> ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable.&lt;br&gt;<br /> People with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them... they do not hesitate to show their wrath. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility...&lt;br&gt;<br /> * '''Strengths:''' dedicated, loyal, strong willed, direct<br /> * '''Strengths:''' stubborn, judgmental, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, too focused on social status, difficult to relax<br /> <br /> = RP Logs =<br /> <br /> {{NewLogs |name=Farideh}}<br /> <br /> =Icons=<br /> <br /> {{Icons}}<br /> |position=Overlord<br /> |where=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |Has rank=Weyrling<br /> |birthplace=Big Bay Hold<br /> |playedby=Phoebe Tonkin<br /> |status=Active<br /> |face=Face-Farideh.jpg<br /> }}<br /> {{Character-Categories<br /> |Categories=Igen Area, Igen Hold<br /> }}<br /> <br /> [[Category:Characters]]<br /> [[Category:Blood]]<br /> [[Category:Greater_Pern]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]<br /> [[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]<br /> [[Category:Riders]]<br /> [[Category:Goldriders]]</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Home_Coming&diff=84851 2016-01-31T15:34:37Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Drex |what=Drex comes home. Again. |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=19 |month=12 |turn=39 |IP=Interv...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Drex<br /> |what=Drex comes home. Again.<br /> |where=Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=19<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.01.30<br /> |quote=&quot;Told you I'd need to go back to the sea sometime.&quot;<br /> |mentions=T'gar, Ethran, Itsy<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh stare.png, Icon drex youknownothing.jpg,<br /> |log=Winter's been fully set in at High Reaches for nearly three sevens now, and still no sign of Farideh's sailor. In fact, it's been a while since Drex wrote her -- but then he was always sporadic at best about it when he's on the sea, regardless. It's the morning after the weyrling party in her weyr when a familiar shadow darkens the entrance, clearing his throat loudly and noticeably. Drex is looking extremely tanned, already olive skin darkened further by months in the sun, a knapsack slung over his shoulder, standing in the entrance like he's not sure whether he's game to fully enter or not. So instead, he just makes vague noises in the hopes he'll be ''noticed''.<br /> <br /> Snow means a lot of things for the Reaches, and in particular for this goldrider, escaping to the warmth and comfortable of her weyr as much as possible. Morning means her daily ritual has begun, but just barely. It's at the new table before the hearth, with its accompanying 'c'-shaped couches, that Farideh sits, perusing the morning reports and meetings minutes while her assistants putter around the sideboard; one going over another set of minutes and the second polishes the glassware. Domestic though the scene may seem -- she's finely dressed in gray, her hair pulled back from her face -- it's a usual spectacle for the acting weyrwoman, these days. She's got her lips lightly pursed as she reads, and it's that same face that turns, in surprise, when Drex clears his throat. His presence catches her off guard enough that her first emotion is unbridled happiness, which shows in her eyes and the radiance of her face, until-- reality hits, and her expression darkens. &quot;You decided to show your face,&quot; she says, features set.<br /> <br /> While Drex's gaze briefly goes to the assistants (are those new ones? ''again''?) it doesn't linger long on them, settling on Farideh's form with a frown borne of concentration. This fades at her initial reaction to his presence, sparking an answering grin -- that doesn't dim when her expression changes. &quot;Aye.&quot; He's still standing on the edge of the entrance, looking distinctly like he doesn't ''belong'' in his dirty, worn clothes. He shifts the sack on his shoulder, as if it has some weight to it, and waits, as if uncertain what sort of welcome he might expect.<br /> <br /> &quot;Zoas, Arva, can you both leave us, please?&quot; Do they names ring a bell? No? Well, they're new, and not the first set of new assistants since he's left, either. Farideh doesn't look back at the two girls, or their subsequent smirking expressions, when she makes her demands, but they're both eager to leave and let the pair alone; even if they push each other on their way out. &quot;''Aye''? Is that all you have to say for yourself?&quot; she says, her hands curling around the edge of the table, knuckles white. &quot;You left without a word, like you were running from something, and now what?&quot; Her chin lifts obstinately, her anger still simmering underneath the surface<br /> <br /> Drex is kind of in the way of the girls leaving, though, and he makes a grunted noise to sidestep their jostling exit, which forces him to step further inside. &quot;Aint sure what else to say, really,&quot; the sailor readily admits, with one of his familiar almost shrugs. &quot;Wasn't running from something,&quot; he adds, quickly defensive. &quot;Running ''to'' the sea. I left you a note,&quot; his brow furrows, like he doesn't understand why she's angry. Because an attempt at pre-goodwill dinner and a note to say 'bye, bae!' is clearly sufficient.<br /> <br /> &quot;You're not sure what else to say.&quot; It's not a favorable repetition, and Farideh's emotions seem to be warring for the greatest felt sentiment. &quot;You left me a ''note'', instead of telling ''me'' to ''my face'',&quot; she growls, throwing off any pretense of calm, and jabs a finger into her own chest. &quot;''After'' you tried milking my friend for ideas on how to make me ''not mad'' when you were planning to leave me ''without a single word'' in goodbye. Why is that so hard to do? Why couldn't you say it to me instead of ''just leaving''?&quot; Clearly, anger is winning, for now. <br /> <br /> &quot;I told you why,&quot; Drex says, shifting his sack, as if determined not to set it down, like that might concede a point. &quot;If I said I wanted to go, you'd have told me not to go, and I might've agreed. Wouldn't have been good,&quot; the sailor concludes, rubbing a hand over his chin, like he's frustrated and trying hard (and probably failing) not to show it. &quot;Told you I'd need to go back to the sea sometime.&quot;<br /> <br /> The goldrider ''tries'' to control her raging temper, breathing deeply and refusing to look at him for a spell. It's undecidedly whether it actually worked or not, when she turns her head at glare at him. &quot;And I told ''you'' when you wanted to go back, I wouldn't stop you. I said you could go. I wouldn't ask you to stay when you so clearly didn't want to be here. Yet, you still hid it from me until you were ''gone''.&quot; Farideh looks disgusted, and pushes up from the table to stalk towards the hearth, hands on her waist.<br /> <br /> &quot;Figured it be easier, y'know? Less--&quot; Drex grimaces, like he's trying to come up for a word that might substitute for one that might get him in more trouble, &quot;Fuss,&quot; is the word he settles on, though the twist of his lips suggests he's unsatisfied with it. &quot;Anyway, I didn't mean to be away so long, but our ship got holed, and we had to fix it on this island and,&quot; he gives another of those half-shrugs, nearly dislodging the sack from his shoulder.<br /> <br /> A scoff from the fireplace, and Farideh's pivoting to stare at him with an incredulous expression. &quot;How is that easier? Less fuss?&quot; She stands there with her fingers curling up into fists and uncurling, and curling, and-- until she can't take it any longer, and she stomps up to him with anger still evident in her flashing eyes and the set of her mouth. &quot;And you had the ''nerve'' to set your hound on me. I only found out about the ''one'', but I wouldn't be surprised if there were ''more''. Do you trust me ''that'' little? After everything?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Just seemed that way. Figured you'd be yellin' like this,&quot; Drex perhaps unwisely confesses. &quot;Just wanted to be, y'know, ''nice''.&quot; When she stalks up to him, he actually rocks a half step back, mostly in surprise, frowning down at her, abruptly. &quot;My what?&quot; he looks completely baffled, at that last. &quot;Didn't set ''nobody'' on you.&quot;<br /> <br /> No, that confession doesn't win him any points; instead, Farideh's cheeks flush with color. &quot;You're ''lying'', too? You had your ''friend'' T'gar watch me, which is actually quite clever since I would have never accused a weyrling of such behavior and I see them often. You do this instead of trusting me, after you ''left'', to keep my promise to you, to your family,&quot; she grounds out, angrily. Her stare is intense, so he should be glad she can't shoot daggers out of her eyes or anything.<br /> <br /> &quot;T'gar?&quot; Drex echoes, in surprise and confusion. &quot;Aint really a friend. Had one drink with him. Might've chatted with him a bit about, y'know, ''you'', but didn't tell him to look after you. ''Fish's tits'', he's a ''bronzerider'', wouldn't trust him. Besides, aint no one knew I was going, 'cept I told the assistant headwoman so she wouldn't expect me to show up.&quot; He reaches out a hand for Farideh's arm, though slowly, like one might approach an hissing kitten. &quot;I didn't, have anyone ''watch'' you for me. Figured that bluerider of yours would keep a close enough eye on you, even if it aint with the most noble of intentions.&quot;<br /> <br /> Nothing about the woman's face, or emotions, changes, but the hand that reaches towards her is given a wary side eye, even if she doesn't move away or slap it away. &quot;Yes, ''T'gar''. He seemed quite taken with the idea that ''someone you trust'' should be watching me so no one ''takes advantage of me'',&quot; Farideh says, still angrily. &quot;Are you saying he came up with that on his ''own''? Why would he care about watching me unless it was for his ''friend''?&quot; She doesn't seem to be taking what he's saying as truth, but she's not throwing things and she's still giving him the opportunity to explain, so it can't be ''that'' bad.<br /> <br /> &quot;How the fuck should I know what a ''bronzerider'' thinks, or why they do what they do? They're all,&quot; Drex makes a noise of frustration. &quot;I didn't ask him to do ''nothing'',&quot; he repeats, growling now, his hand dropping back to his side. &quot;Why don't you go yell at ''him'' instead of me?&quot; He shifts the weight of his sack, and turns, &quot;I'm gonna go see our son.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''No''.&quot; It might sound contrary to everything up to this point, but Farideh grabs hold of whatever part of his shirt she can get her fingers around. &quot;You don't get to run away because you don't want to hear it. What you did was terrible. How would you feel if I did the same thing to you? No, you can go sit down on the couch and explain yourself. ''Better'',&quot; she tells him, chin lifting.<br /> <br /> It's her voice, more than her grasping at his dirty clothes that makes Drex rock to a halt. &quot;I don't want to hear it because it's wrong as a dollfin's knob on an avian's back. And you ''did'' do the same thing to me -- you decided to go stand, and told me afterwards, because you knew I wouldn't be happy.&quot; The sailor's arms fold across his chest. He's not sitting on the couch, but he isn't leaving either, so that might be a win.<br /> <br /> His answer surprises her, but only briefly. &quot;You're ''still'' mad about that? It's ''been'' two turns now, Drex. You could have left me a hundred times since then. You could have left me after you ''found'' out,&quot; Farideh says, frustration in her voice. &quot;It was a long time ago, and it wasn't the same. It was a life choice that I needed to make, for me, for my future. This is-- this is just hiding the truth because you didn't want to ''tell me''. It's hurtful.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Aint mad about it no more. Just saying I ''do'' know how it feels.&quot; Drex retorts, posture defensive even if his voice has lolled back into his sailor drawl. &quot;This was a choice that I needed to make too.&quot; He takes a breath, scowling, even if his voice is softer. &quot;Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you in person. Wasn't sure I'd go if I did. Tried to make it as easy as I could.&quot; For him as much as her, is implied.<br /> <br /> The moment is rife with tension, and now that Farideh's gotten a hold on her expressions, it's hard to tell exactly what's going on inside her head. She eventually drops her hand, followed by her arms crossing over her chest, but most of the stiffness and aggression in her stance slowly melts away. &quot;I wish you hadn't. I wish you wouldn't, in the future. I'm not completely inflexible and not understanding, you know.&quot;<br /> <br /> Drex is silent for a long moment, rubbing a hand over his probably dirty hair. &quot;I didn't want to leave. I ''had'' to.&quot; He exhales a breath. &quot;How's Ethran?&quot; he asks, softly.<br /> <br /> Farideh's eyes dance away when she exhales noisily and says, &quot;I know.&quot; It might be a testament to growth, or this ''understanding'' she says she has. &quot;Growing, every day. Learning all sorts of things. Playing with everything. Laughing. ''Smiling''. He's good. How's--&quot; Her eyes slant back to Drex, uncertain. &quot;Itsy? Everyone?&quot;<br /> <br /> Drex, too, seems to relax subtly, as if he senses the worst of the storm has passed. His arms unfold, and he takes a step closer to her, smiling as he listens to her talk about Ethran. &quot;I wanted to go see him last night, but they the nannies said was asleep already.&quot; He rolls his eyes, tension passing from his posture as he slouches. &quot;Ok. Itsy's mad about the ship, but we got her back to port. Might take longer than winter to get her tip top shape, but most of the crew's not all that upset about spending it at Ista.&quot; A beat. &quot;It was... good. Seeing her. Being back on the ship.&quot; He says it tentatively, like he doesn't want it cause further arguments. &quot;Good, seeing you again, too,&quot; he adds, softer, reaching out a hand for her cheek.<br /> <br /> &quot;Last night?&quot; Here we again. &quot;You were here last night and you didn't come ''then''?&quot; Farideh's brows come together, lines forming between them. &quot;Oh,&quot; Itsy, &quot;and the ship's fine now?&quot; She is tastefully mute on the subject of Ista and the sailors wintering there, or perhaps she's given him another opportunity to try out the talking method. &quot;I'm glad you found what you were looking for, I really do--&quot; Her mouth remains parted after her words cease, for an instant, before her lips close and, so do, her eyes, at the touch of his hand. &quot;I missed you.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I did. There were riders everywhere,&quot; Drex says, and we all know how fond he is of them. &quot;Wasn't going to come ruin your party.&quot; Plus there were fresh beers on offer at the Snowasis. His, mostly non-verbal, ''uh-huh'' is in response to her response to Itsy, likewise avoided for too much awkward. &quot;I missed you too,&quot; he murmurs, his thumb brushing against her cheek, leaning in to press lips against her forehead.<br /> <br /> &quot;Oh,&quot; ''oh''. That party. Last night. &quot;You wouldn't have ruined it. Your ''friends'' T'gar and V'ret were there. I was hosting something for their classes, before their graduation.&quot; Farideh resists it only that much longer, but she's not immune to her emotions, not by half. Her arms ''finally'' lift and circle his waist, and she leans into him, sea-smells and all. &quot;Are you staying?&quot; It's not hopeful. It's merely a question.<br /> <br /> There's plenty he could say -- about the party or his ''friends'', or anything else. But she leans into him, and with an exhale, Drex wraps his arms around her, too, head dropping so his face is pressed against the top of her head, muffling his response somewhat: &quot;Aye.&quot; There might be an unspoken ''for now'', but now definitely isn't the time to say it.<br /> <br /> Silence is Farideh's acceptance, and the longevity of the moment her reticence, but eventually she stirs from under his embrace and leans back, examining his freshly tanned face for the first time since his recent return. &quot;There's so much to tell you,&quot; she says, but rather than ''tell him'', she smiles and lifts her face to his, angling for another kiss, this one on the lips.<br /> <br /> &quot;Plenty of time to tell me,&quot; Drex says with a smile, as he leans to meet her lips with his own. That lasts for a spell, until he breaks away to murmur: &quot;Ought to take a bath,&quot; he admits, kind of vaguely embarrassed. Although only for about two seconds, because, &quot;Want to join me?&quot; soon follows, his intent clear in the sudden grin that follows.<br /> <br /> Disappointment marks Farideh's face in the wake of his retraction, but she turns her head to look back at the paperwork on her table. &quot;Yes,&quot; she says definitively, glancing back at him with a mischievous smile; her hand reaching for his. &quot;''Plenty of time''. I think there's a few things you're going to want to know ''right away'',&quot; she murmurs, taking the first few steps towards the bathroom, hand tugging his along the way.<br /> <br /> Drex's, ''uh-huh'', is more definitely positive this time, letting himself be lead towards the bathroom. The ''thunk'' of his knapsack hitting the floor goes almost unnoticed along the way.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=QOTD&diff=84846 2016-01-31T05:37:09Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>[Fort Weyr] Mirinda eyes +watch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda | FTW-BOWL&gt; Above the bowl, Zaisavyth spirals [switch(1, match(owner(me), owner(%#)), %p, [name(dragon(owner(me)))]'s)] ledge.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: I'm not sure where your dragon is.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: XD&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: She's just spiralling, ok.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: It's a diva thing.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: Oh, we know.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: She /fell/. Damnit, Zaisavyth.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: Fail dragon.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Dahlia has concerns.<br /> <br /> <br /> ------<br /> <br /> Farideh has a daddy complex.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Farideh :does, obvs.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Don't bone N'klas because you want his daddy, Farideh.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Farideh also has a typing complex.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Farideh makes N'klas her next baby daddy.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Please bone N'klas because you want his daddy, Farideh.&lt;br&gt;<br /> K'del: D: D: D:&lt;br&gt;<br /> 5th gen NPC FTW!&lt;br&gt;<br /> 5th gen PC!! FTW!&lt;br&gt;<br /> Farideh makes sure to have this moment of conception where K'del &quot;accidentally&quot; walks in on us.&lt;br&gt;<br /> Farideh knows no limits to revenge.&lt;br&gt;<br /> K'del D: D: D: D:</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=QOTD&diff=84845 2016-01-31T05:36:16Z

<p>Roz: </p> <hr /> <div>[Fort Weyr] Mirinda eyes +watch.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda | FTW-BOWL&gt; Above the bowl, Zaisavyth spirals [switch(1, match(owner(me), owner(%#)), %p, [name(dragon(owner(me)))]'s)] ledge.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: I'm not sure where your dragon is.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: XD&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: She's just spiralling, ok.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: It's a diva thing.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: Oh, we know.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] A'sran: She /fell/. Damnit, Zaisavyth.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Mirinda: Fail dragon.&lt;br&gt;<br /> [Fort Weyr] Dahlia has concerns.<br /> <br /> <br /> ------<br /> <br /> Farideh has a daddy complex.<br /> Farideh :does, obvs.<br /> Don't bone N'klas because you want his daddy, Farideh.<br /> Farideh also has a typing complex.<br /> Farideh makes N'klas her next baby daddy.<br /> Please bone N'klas because you want his daddy, Farideh.<br /> K'del: D: D: D:<br /> 5th gen NPC FTW!<br /> 5th gen PC!! FTW!<br /> Farideh makes sure to have this moment of conception where K'del &quot;accidentally&quot; walks in on us.<br /> Farideh knows no limits to revenge.<br /> K'del D: D: D: D:</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:To_Murky_Pasts_And_Brighter_Futures&diff=84804 2016-01-30T04:16:12Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh, Jo |what=Farideh and Jo get boozy and share secrets. |where=Farideh's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=13 |month=12 |turn=39 |IP=In...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh, Jo<br /> |what=Farideh and Jo get boozy and share secrets.<br /> |where=Farideh's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |involves=High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=13<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.01.28<br /> |quote=&quot;I've...done things, darlin'. It wasn' always 'bout survival'n that's shit I've gotta always live with.&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, K'del, Drex, Ethran, Deetan, Zoas, Jothan<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh rosy.jpg, Icon jo civillized.jpg,<br /> |log=With the changing seasons, perhaps comes a change of heart. What was once all heavy and bold, blue and gold in reflection of High Reaches' standard, is now light and feminine. Some of the old trappings still remain, but mostly it's all ''new'': curved pink-colored velvet couches nestle around a large circular table, taking up the most space in front of the hearth, gray chairs with high backs, and a collection of bookcases and wonderful cabinetry to better show off her glassware and wine bottles. Sitting at one of those new sofas, feet tucked up under her dress, is Farideh. She's nibbling on pieces of fruit and re-arranging, not for the first time, the vase of flowers in the middle of the table; around it are the delicacies she promised from Nerat and beyond. It's warm and inviting, and one of her assistants putters in the background, setting aright clutter.<br /> <br /> When Jo arrives, it's with little fanfare. At least she's dressed in something other than her usual: a deep blue halter with long dark pants and her tackled up away from her face. She has a bottle in her hand when she steps in, taking in the weyr surroundings before her dark gaze lands on Farideh with a rather wry, &quot;Kitten. I hope ya didn' do all this just for me.&quot; It's an obvious tease, and she lifts the bottle as she walks in with a brisk, &quot;Somethin' sweet'n savory.&quot;<br /> <br /> The goldrider's fingers still on the stems they've been maneuvering, and hazel eyes flick to the bluerider as she enters. &quot;I didn't do it ''only'' for you,&quot; is her sly response, corners of her mouth lifting. &quot;Winter always gives me the blues around here. I miss the Igen heat. There's no reason my weyr has to mirror that. I think it looks ''much'' better.&quot; She moves a couple of the small nosegays on the edges of the bouquet and then sits back, seemingly satisfied. &quot;Come on. Sit down. Tell me about your day,&quot; she says, patting the springy cushion beside her. &quot;Zoas? Can you grab us two glasses? Then you may go.&quot; And the girl, who's been giving Jo nervous glances, does just that, placing the glasses on the table, bobbing a frantic nod, and rushing out as fast as her little feet can go.<br /> <br /> &quot;Mmhmm,&quot; is what Jo responds to Farideh's answer, one corner of her mouth lifting. Looking around, &quot;It ''does'' look nice,&quot; she admits after a moment, before her gaze shifts to her before adding, &quot;So do ''you''.&quot; As she moves to sit beside her, her gaze flicks to the girl named Zoas with a brief study as she scrambles out. Setting the bottle down, &quot;A bit different from the lounge,&quot; she remarks wryly, leaning back. &quot;Ya have any glasses? The day was good,&quot; she answers now, looking her way. &quot;I worked my ass off. Got hit on by a trader durin' sweeps. The usual.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;You always say that,&quot; Farideh accuses, and brushes off the sleeve of dress self-consciously, totally avoiding looking at Jo in that moment. &quot;A ''bit''-- only that no one can eavesdrop ''here'', unless K'del has uncanny hearing. It's always ''so'' loud at Snowasis and less at the lounge, but,&quot; her hand lifts and gestures to the array of treats, snacks, and candies on the table in plates, tins, and boxes. &quot;No one can steal any of this ''either''.&quot; She's pleased by her own reasoning, smiling unabashedly; it turns into a giggle, before she bites down on her lip. &quot;Sorry. That's horrible. Where?&quot; As she asks, she picks up one of the glasses her assistant helpfully retrieved, and sets it down in front of Jo, and does the same for the second.<br /> <br /> &quot;Cuz it's always true,&quot; Jo playfully returns, some seriousness leaking through in that tone. On the location, &quot;Better,&quot; she agrees, grinning. &quot;Easier. Ya wanted those rum-soaked cakes. Yer sweet tooth. Did'ja get any? 'Sides,&quot; she adds, nodding towards the ledge entrance, &quot;Talkin' 'bout ourselves ain' meant for all ears,&quot; alluding to their last discussion. As to where, she goes to uncork the bottle as she answers Farideh with, &quot;It's not horrible. It was outside Nabol. How was yer day, Kitten?&quot;<br /> <br /> Less graciously than others might, Farideh finally accepts that compliment with a secretive smile, sitting forward to reach for the fabric-lined box that those rum-soaked cakes are sitting in. She sets it down in front of Jo and waves her hand to waft the saccharine scent towards them. &quot;I ''did'', and I may have already snuck a piece. They're divine, as usual,&quot; she sighs, drawing back with a delighted sigh. &quot;No, it's ''not'' quite,&quot; and less enthralled, with a half-groan, &quot;Nabol. It's always Nabol.&quot; Her eyes follow the bottle, entranced. &quot;It's was normal. Nice and normal. The Weyr hasn't fallen on our heads yet, so that's a good sign, right?&quot;<br /> <br /> As she pours, &quot;Not surprised,&quot; Jo answers on the goldrider sneaking some sweet cakes. Passing a filled glass towards Farideh, &quot;Where do ya get'em, anyway?&quot; She grins on the other's reaction regarding Nabol before she adds, &quot;'Least he wasn' ''from'' Nabol. He was from somewhere in Telgar. He was dashin'. I think ya would have liked him.&quot; Beat. Her own glass filled now, &quot;Yer making' a good actin' Weyrwoman,&quot; she notes on the last, amused. &quot;I didn' think ya could work with K'del as long as ya have without a fist thrown.&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh accepts the glass eagerly, taking a testing sip of the wine, bolstered by another delighted sigh, before she carries on with conversation about ''cake''. &quot;Nerat Hold, of course. An assistant to one of Lord Piershen's bakers. I ''hope'' he doesn't get it in his head to lock up the recipe anytime soon, and they ''are'' a little more expensive, but--&quot; She thinks they're worth the labor, apparently. &quot;Why would ''I'' have liked him?&quot; she asks, one of those cakes half-raised to her mouth, eyes ''wide''. &quot;Who? Me?&quot; And now, she stuffs that cake ''in'', which gives her time to formula a response. &quot;I don't want to cause any undue trouble, not when Irianke is indisposed with familial matters. I don't always agree with K'del, but he's-- ''alright''.&quot; It's as close to a compliment as she's going to give.<br /> <br /> &quot;Not surprised ya even found out 'bout such a decadent....&quot; Jo pauses to pick one up to examine it before taking a bite. On the price, &quot;I'll ya the next batch,&quot; she decides to say. &quot;I'm good for it. It can't be ''that'' expensive.&quot; As for the trader, &quot;Ya'd like'em cuz he's dashin'. He's smoother than ''I'' am, anyway. A 'lil uncouth like yer Drex there. So ya like K'del now?&quot; This seems to be news to Jo, and she's looking at Farideh as if it is indeed news.<br /> <br /> &quot;I used to get them at the gathers at Nerat, or my father or my uncle when they visited with Lord Piershen. It was my favorite thing to get.&quot; Farideh ruminates on ''that'' for a minute, and eventually slants Jo a narrow-eyed look. &quot;Who said I like dashing? He sounds like a milksop,&quot; she mutters, and drinks to that description, though her gaze has already skipped off to the other offerings on the table. &quot;Like K'del? I wouldn't go ''that'' far. I said he's alright. He's ''alright''. I don't want to make Irianke regret having me act in her place, nor do I want to do anything that could expedite a transfer ''when'' she gets back. Do you?&quot; Like K'del, presumably.<br /> <br /> Watching her as she lounges back in the couch, Jo notes idly as Farideh explains about the rum cakes, &quot;Ya don' mention 'bout yet family much. Heard ya were from Igen like Irianke is.&quot; She grins all the more in light of dashing traders before she asks, &quot;Oh, so ya prefer'em roughnecked, do ya? Soft'n gentle thing like ''you''?&quot; Playful and teasing, she takes another bite before chasing it down with a drink from her glass. &quot;It's smart, playing K'del with kindness, 'cause, no...I don' want ya goin' anywhere, darlin'.&quot; The soberness of the last shows in her study of the goldrider.<br /> <br /> &quot;No?&quot; Farideh plucks one of the berries of the arrangement on her right, considering it at length with a thoughtful air. &quot;I ''am'', from Igen. My uncle is the holder of Big Bay. We're Blooded. It's ''no big deal'',&quot; she's quick to say, waving dismissively with her free hand. &quot;It's just not something I go around bragging about, because ''here'' it doesn't really matter. ''Here'' everyone makes their own ''way''.&quot; She scrunches up her nose, before popping the berry in her mouth. &quot;Am I supposed to like them soft and gentle, like ''me''?&quot; she asks, slanting Jo another ''look''. &quot;I don't know if he believes it entirely, but we manage well enough. You've known him longer than me. You have to have an opinion of the man.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;No, is doesn' matter,&quot; Jo agrees eagerly, &quot;but where we come from does make up who we still are. Just 'cause I ain' a guard somewhere don' mean it's not in me with how I grew up.&quot; She snickers on Farideh's expression on soft and gentle before she's slow to shake her head and answers her with, &quot;Some holdgirls do,&quot; is all she says on that. &quot;As for K'del,&quot; she segues with a look, taking up her glass, &quot;while I've known him for a long time, we haven' exactly talked much. Considerin' how we started in all....well, my opinion of him tends to err over to where those like Taikrin stand. It ain' nothin' personal. I just think it's been long overdue for a change in leadership. My opinion isn' very popular here, though.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I suppose,&quot; Farideh ascents, &quot;you're right. It ''does'', but I assume you didn't think I a farmer's daughter from some barren cothold on the southern continent either.&quot; Her lips twitch as she holds back her amusement, cradling her glass against her cheek as she contemplates Jo. &quot;A change in leadership? You don't want Irianke as Weyrwoman either?&quot; That makes her frown, but only briefly, for she's tipping her head back and forth as she considers: &quot;K'del has been Weyrleader for a long time. There are those who would say all that time means more experience, which is better. What would ''you'' say to that?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I assumed ya were from some hold'n had been taken care of far better'n I was,&quot; Jo counters, watching Farideh idly. &quot;I don' see scars on yer hands'n I don' think there's been any on yer heart. The kindness in ya to someone like me speaks of that.&quot; The challenging look she gives now is for the goldrider to refute it. On leadership, she shakes her head before answering, &quot;We've not kept a Weyrwoman long enough. I can't judge Irianke. Weyrleader though, K'del's lost many weyrwomen while in charge. Some would say that's a fluke, but others...Time ''does'' mean experience, but...&quot; the bluerider considers her words before she continues, &quot;...I don' think one should be runnin' things for as long as he has. I get that the dragons are the one to choose. I just think new blood breeds new ideas, ya know? If the Weyr is to truly prosper.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;You can tell all of that just because I'm ''nice'' to you?&quot; Farideh starts to laugh and almost immediately stops, schooling her features appropriately solemn. &quot;I've been told plenty of times that I'm a brat and I'm immature, and-- well, K'del has called me plenty, himself. I think those people would argue with you about ''that'',&quot; she says, but still seems pleased by the bluerider's assessment. &quot;K'del-- you're ''right'', he's been around through too many deaths, but I suppose he just has terrible luck. Harpers always tell stories of the weyrleaders who kept their title as long or longer. Places like Benden, Fort-- who would ''you'' see as weyrleader, then? Certainly not someone young and inexperienced, ''completely''. A median?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Well ya ''are'' a brat,&quot; Jo remarks at that laughter. &quot;That don' mean ya ain' nice, Kitten. Yer were one of the few that went outta their way to take care of me after R'hin died. Someone rotten wouldn've bothered.&quot; As for choice of Weyrleader, the wingsecond doesn't answer on that right away. She considers the question as she lingers on her drink, then, &quot;Maybe someone that could ''get'' experience through bein' his Weyrsecond,&quot; she says slowly with a nod. &quot;There hasn' been a Weyrsecond in several turns. The fact that there hasn' been screams of arrogance to me. I dunno if the next one is even in this Weyr right now,&quot; she muses, &quot;but, who knows. Someone could step up. Old or young. Someone with aims to protect this Weyr'n make it great.&quot;<br /> <br /> Another scrunch-nosed face is made in Jo's general direction. &quot;I don't think that makes me ''nice''. Plenty of mean people still have friends. You're just the sad sot that's friend with the immature brat of High Reaches,&quot; Farideh returns, not quite as serious. It's all the rest that's sobering, and she sits in silence for a while, turning her wine glass as she mulls it over. &quot;I wonder why he doesn't name a weyrsecond, after all. It's been as long as I've been at the Weyr, which is almost five turns now. That is a long time to go without a weyrsecond.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Plenty of sluts have friends, too,&quot; Jo is easy to counter. &quot;That still doesn' mean shit. I've seen yer heart. Ya can't fool me, Farideh.&quot; It's not often that the wingsecond uses her real name. &quot;'Sides, aren' we 'spose to be gettin' to know each other?&quot; The smirk falls on talk of leadership, the woman shaking her head to it. &quot;I dunno,&quot; she admits on why there isn't a Weyrsecond in place, &quot;but I'll tell ya this. It's far more important to have one than to be talkin' 'bout gettin' rid of one of our goldriders.&quot;<br /> <br /> One eyebrow lifts at the bluerider's words, and her answer is simple: &quot;Fine.&quot; It's hazy agreement for now, in so much that she chooses not to argue the point further and let Jo's assertion stand. &quot;We ''are''. So, tell me about ''you''. About the girl before the dragon.&quot; She's watching the other woman inquisitively, awaiting the story that they've orchestrated this whole get together for. &quot;Irianke and K'del are worried about candidate numbers, especially with the plague and how fantastic our relations with the Holds have been of late. More golds means more clutches, more clutches means more candidates-- and how we're supposed to feed them all, is anyone's guess.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Sounds like a long term issue, if that,&quot; Jo remarks on candidate numbers, making a face. &quot;But then, I ain' runnin' this place for it to be my concern. I guess I just don' see things their way, darlin'. I imagine ya have yer own opinion on the matter, too.&quot; But she returns back to the main task at hand, draining her glass in favor of refilling it and offering a refill Farideh's way as she says, &quot;The girl before the dragon was named Jolie of Keogh Hold with only a shit father'n arrogant brothers to share her blood.&quot; Leaning back, &quot;Guardstock, through'n through, only, my father didn' believe in lady guards. He believed girls were meant to carry babies'n raise families. Even had someone set up to take me off his hands once he felt I came of age for it.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;It ''is'', and it's why they're so adamant about-- you know, women making the ''right choices'' about pregnancies. Looking to the future, in fifteen turns, the tides could have turned and we could be looking at large numbers instead of small.&quot; Farideh sits back, twisting enough to rest her elbow on the back of the couch. &quot;Really? No lady guards,&quot; she murmurs, lips pursing. &quot;How did you get out? Obviously you're not married ''now''-- or, we should really be having a chat.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;But they really can't dictate the lives of folks 'round here,&quot; Jo says with a slight frown. She lets the frown linger a bit longer before answers Farideh's question on lady guards. &quot;I reckon it had somethin' to do with him losin' my mother,&quot; she says a touch dry. &quot;He never doted on me'n, I got the distinct feelin' that he was blamin' me for her leavin'. I dunno. Either way, bein' a guard was what I wanted'n since it was, it made sense for him to deny me that.&quot; Getting out draws a study on the goldrider in the pause before she responds with, &quot;I got out 'cause of Deetan. He was a trader just passin' through Keogh, or so he said. I was smitten'n he was one fuckin' charmin' bastard. Opened my eyes to the rest of the world. When he offered me to come with him, I knew that if I stayed I'd either end up married or my father would grant for me to be a guard, only, to be a guard in some backwater shithold. Way I saw it, my future prospects weren' lookin' too hot. Deetan's looked a lot better, so, I left with him. Even in hindsight, knowin' all I know 'bout him now, I'd still go.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;''No'', but it's a bit second nature to just-- zip ''between'' and take care of what may or may not be, after sex. I think they're simply imploring people to ''think'' about it. I'd rather see them try than run into the problem of hatchlings going ''between'' because we lack candidates,&quot; Farideh says, frowning herself; no solution seems ''good''. &quot;Your mother left?&quot; That bit surprises her, but then she's quiet, as she listens, only commenting on Deetan at the end. &quot;Deetan-- a trader? And you went from trader to the Weyr?&quot; Perplexed, her eyebrows knitting together, she stares at Jo, trying to put the pieces together prior to whole thing being unraveled. &quot;Do go on.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;More children, ya mean,&quot; Jo states, still with a slight frown. &quot;Guess I can see a lot of folks goin' for that.&quot; She doesn't seem to be adding herself into that group, though. She inclines her head on her mother leaving, answering back, &quot;Or so Jothan says. I'll never know'n I'll never get a true answer outta him. All I know is, I grew up without her'n surrounded by men. Keogh's a tough place to live, darlin'. It ain' so kind to women much like other holds.&quot; On Deetan though, &quot;Took many turns 'till I came here,&quot; she admits with a drink. &quot;I left with Deetan'n turns out, he wasn' so much a trader as a thief. He had some friends with him that went around, causin' trouble for the guards. At my age, they led a life far more interestin' than the one I would've gotten if I stayed home, so I stuck with'em. Let'em teach me everythin' I know, though, I still think I wasn' a bad kid. I knew what they were doin' was wrong, but...&quot; Lips pressed together and she shrugs.<br /> <br /> <br /> Perhaps wisely, Farideh allows the subject of children, or not having children, slide, in favor of the much deeper conversation bits. &quot;Have you ever tried to find her? I know that might be ''hard''-- it's not as though she has a dragon you can pinpoint.&quot; Her lips purse and then flatten, and purse again. &quot;So, the trader, this Deetan, wasn't a trader all, but a thief masquerading as a trader, to lure out innocent girls and convince them to thieve with him?&quot; Now, her eyebrows are hiked up ''high''.<br /> <br /> &quot;Figured if she'd want us, she'd be found,&quot; is Jo's cavalier answer on her missing mother. &quot;She'd make it easy. Shit, she'd have marched into Keogh for us. She didn'. She left me with ''him''.&quot; It seems simple enough to her. On Deetan, there's something akin to a sheepish grin before she answers, &quot;In all fairness, the boy could've claimed he sold weyrwomen virginities for a livin' and I'd still would've gone with him. I was a different girl back then. Still believed in harper-tale romances'n bein' one day swept off my feet into the sunset. I'm sure he was only in Keogh to nick somethin' off somebody'n I told him so. He didn' deny it. As for convincin' me to theive with him,&quot; she goes on to say as she takes a leisurely drink, &quot;it didn' take much. His life was excitin'. ''He'' was excitin'. I wanted him'n I wanted to be like him, if I couldn' be a guard. Bein' good hadn' given me much on favors so far back home, so,&quot; One shoulder-shrug.<br /> <br /> &quot;You make a valid point,&quot; Farideh says, quietly, rocking her wineglass against her cheek. &quot;It seems such a shame though, that your mother-- disappeared. Hard or not. Rough or not. I can't ever claim to be ''the'' best mother, or even knowledgeable, but I ''do'' love Ethran and I couldn't ever move somewhere and leave him behind. That seems--&quot; She scrunches up her nose, sighs, and takes a long drink of her wine; and then takes another, to fortify herself, it would seem. Through the rest she's quiet, listening and mulling over the story, until the end. &quot;So, that's it? That's how you became-- you? Following around some thief that caused issues for Keogh's guards?&quot;<br /> <br /> Nodding once, &quot;I won' pretend to know what my mother was thinkin', or like,&quot; Jo admits on Farideh's words, watching her. &quot;Perhaps she had good reason. Perhaps she had no good reason at all.&quot; Pause. &quot;The story does not end there,&quot; she tells her then, some of her cavalier tones leaking away as she sets the glass down. After a brief moment of silence, &quot;After a time, I was good at what they did,&quot; she goes on to say matter-of-factly. &quot;I started seein' makin' a life of it with them all. I had no plans on goin' back home. Well. One heist was all it took. We all coordinated to rob a wagon, only, the man was armed'n good at usin' it. He got me in the leg-&quot; and she pats her covered left thigh, &quot;-'n would've stabbed me dead if not for one of'em gettin' a kill on him. Another guy got injured by him as well'n his wound was fatal.&quot; Meeting Farideh's gaze, &quot;Long story short of that piece, Deetan'n them got away'n conveniently left me, their friend'n the dead man right there when the guard showed up. I got fingered since I had the knife in my hand where I was tryin' to save him. The other one died. Guess who got the all-expenses-paid prize trip to the mines?&quot; She makes a joke out of it, but the words fall flat along with the dark look in her eyes.<br /> <br /> Varying emotions flash across the goldrider's face in the telling of the story: surprise in widened eyes, a hand thrown over her mouth; an angry scowl and furrowed brow; a heavy sigh with eyes briefly closed. &quot;How did you get from the mines to High Reaches?&quot; Farideh rests her chin on her forearm, balanced precariously on the back of the couch, her eyes on the bluerider.<br /> <br /> Watching Farideh - watching the expressions that cross on her face, &quot;I stuck to the lands after I got outta the mines,&quot; Jo is slow to answer, her tone sober. &quot;I didn' end up in the Weyr right away. I think it was a turn or so before I came. Spent the time tryin' to survive on my own. I was....&quot; She stops here, now unable to really look at her and chooses to reclaim her glass and focus on that instead. &quot;Jolie died in that place,&quot; she says quietly. &quot;Who came out was....different. Rougher. Colder. Angrier. All I could think 'bout....all I had eyes for was revenge. That really hasn' changed,&quot; she adds, stealing a glance Farideh's way. &quot;But, I couldn' stay out in the lands without food'n marks. Did what I could to get by. Eventually, got an opportunity to try livin' at this here Weyr,&quot; and she looks about the little weyr in indication before she snorts and shakes her head. &quot;Honestly, I was only expectin' to pass through here. Move on. Find Deetan and.... Find Bar'n Kin and.... But, guess Tacuseth had other plans for me. Before that, the right folks came in'n took care of me the way my own family didn'.&quot;<br /> <br /> It's a story that deserves quiet consideration, and Farideh's intensity on it shows. &quot;You may be rougher and colder and angrier than you ''were''-- but you make it sound like you're ''bad'' and you're ''not''. People like-- this Deetan character, or M'kris-- or that guy they always talk about Rone, those were bad guys. I think you just learned to-- protect yourself, better. Not let other people take advantage of you. It's smart, really.&quot; She sighs and sits up, to take another swallow of wine. &quot;I'm ''glad''-- that Tacuseth found you, that you stayed. Think of everything since then, and now. None of it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't. ''We'' wouldn't be here ''now'', if you hadn't,&quot; she points out, mostly unhelpfully.<br /> <br /> Jo listens, her brows coming together minutely through Farideh's words as she cradles the glass with both hands when hunches forward a bit. Shaking her head once at something said, &quot;Just 'cause I didn' kill that man, that I got framed for it, don' mean I ain' a bad person, Kitten,&quot; she tells her quietly. &quot;Some of the gossip ''is'' true. I've...done things, darlin'. It wasn' always 'bout survival'n that's shit I've gotta always live with. I ain' gonna pretend that I ain' lookin' for that man. What he did to me....I can't let that go.&quot; Pause. &quot;It's all I've ever had.&quot; Draining some of her drink, &quot;I can't thank him for me findin' Tacuseth,&quot; she says soberly. &quot;I can't thank my father's bein' an ass for this life.&quot; Meeting her gaze on that last, she studies her before reaching out to try and brush the side of Farideh's bottom lip with a callused thumb as she says, &quot;But no. Some of it I don' regret. I don' regret it all leadin' me to meetin' ''you''.&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh opens her mouth to refute those claims, or complain, or-- who knows, because she promptly shuts it with a definitive snap. She looks at a loss of what to say, though she's not yet looked away from the bluerider. &quot;I'd say I wished those things hadn't happened to you, and if they-- ok, I wish they hadn't, but I feel like they've made you you. Who would you be if you weren't you?&quot; It's a conundrum, one which she's not adept enough to figure out, so she frowns instead, even when Jo touches her face. &quot;You're not a ''bane'', Jo.&quot;<br /> <br /> Fingers returning to cradle her glass as she sits back, &quot;There's those that think otherwise,&quot; is what Jo says on her being who she is with a small self-deprecating grin. &quot;I notice more folks have acceptin' sort of minds inside a Weyr than outside.&quot; With a roll of shoulders, &quot;But that's my story. The best of it, anyway. Not as excitin' as, say, talkin' with tunnelsnakes or bitin' canines on their backs. As to who I would've been....well, someone that wasn' a 'rider. Someone that either was a guard or someone that didn' know the insides of the mines, or, someone likely dead.&quot; Beat. &quot;Who would'ja have been if not the ''you here''?&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;And there's those that think I'm terrible, too. I think there always will be, but it's how the people you care about think about you that matters.&quot; Farideh nods once, after, to convince herself, too. She finishes what's left in her glass before she acknowledges, &quot;Someone's wife, someone's mother-- no, I'm someone's mother already. Someone's wife, for sure, and I would have at least--&quot; She frowns and starts ticking off on her fingers, &quot;Two or three children by now. I might even be a Lady Holder, somewhere. Miserable and stuffed into a frilly gown to please my husband, who wouldn't like me to talk back or have opinions or--&quot; Giving her head a shake, she says, &quot;No. I was meant to be here, in the end. I didn't know it. Roszadyth did.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;That's true,&quot; Jo agrees on how the people they care about thinking of them. &quot;Drex adores ya, I reckon, sacrificin' all he does for ya. I can see ya bein' someone's wife. Lady Holder, but, I doubt ya would be happy. I see ya as ya are here'n, ya meant to be here. With ''her'',&quot; with a nod towards where Roszadyth has settled. &quot;They our dragons knows us better than we know ourselves.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;No, I wouldn't have been happy. That's why I left-- to make my own decisions and my own life. I left when my sister had just gotten married and my mother was setting her sights on ''my'' prospects.&quot; Farideh makes a face at that and then shifts again, to take up the bottle of wine and pour into her own glass before offering to pour into Jo's. &quot;We can't celebrate the past, but we can certainly toast to our dragons, our futures. May they be both bright and uneventful.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;To makin' yer own prospects then,&quot; Jo offers her glass over for the toast and the refill, seeming content enough to finish off the bottle - and some of the sweets - in talk of far less personal subjects. Even likely, gossip.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Positive_Relationships&diff=84801 2016-01-30T04:04:43Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, Mirinda, Mirinda{{!}}Zaisavyth |what=Farideh comes to call on Mirinda. |where=Mirinda's Weyr, Fort Weyr |involves=Fort Weyr, High Re...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, Mirinda, Mirinda{{!}}Zaisavyth<br /> |what=Farideh comes to call on Mirinda.<br /> |where=Mirinda's Weyr, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=12<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.01.29<br /> |quote=&quot;There has been such complicated history between the Weyr of my birth and High Reaches. My ''family'' and High Reaches.&quot;<br /> |mentions=K'del, Olivya, N'rov, Irianke, Jocelyn, M'kris, Hattie<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh roszadyth demure.jpg, Icon farideh.png, Icon mirinda professional.jpg, Icon mirinda zaisavyth.jpg,<br /> |log=Foreign though her presence may be -- and in the rain no less -- it is with warmth and politeness that Roszadyth lets herself known, after coming out of ''between'', to Fort's senior queen. &lt;&lt; We have come to pay our respects, &gt;&gt; the High Reaches' queen says, leaving it open for the other gold to say ''yea'', ''nay'', or ''otherwise''.<br /> <br /> Zaisavyth is not a queen who disapproves of visitors-- visitors are merely her ''due'', really, and surely a positive thing. &lt;&lt; We are glad to host you, High Reaches, &gt;&gt; is the queen's decision, thoughts rich with a dark, fiery ocean, somewhat muted as a result of all that real-world rain. &lt;&lt; To us? To our clutch? &gt;&gt; Don't tell Taeliyth that she's claimed that, too; in ''this'' queen's mind, a clutch belongs to the Weyr, and the Weyr? Well, that's hers.<br /> <br /> Not being spurned by the other queen, and receiving what ''she'' might estimate as a warm welcome, Roszadyth's pleasure comes through in her words; more radiant than ever. &lt;&lt; We have come to see you and yours, and we greatly anticipate seeing your clutch as well, &gt;&gt; she avows, deferring to the other queen's logic and possessiveness of her junior's clutch.<br /> <br /> Well and so-- Roszadyth is pleased, and so too is Zaisavyth, for all that her Weyr is not seen to its best advantage in this present weather. &lt;&lt; As it should be, &gt;&gt; she tells the younger queen, with a ripple of fiery wave. &lt;&lt; We shall receive you in our weyr. Will you require directions? An escort? &gt;&gt;<br /> &lt;OOC&gt; Farideh says, &quot;I can't remember how Fort's ledge is build. Like HRW's, with the front ledge shared? Or different?&quot;<br /> <br /> Remaining sunny and yet demure, Roszadyth declines the invitation of an escort in polite tones, &lt;&lt; You are too kind. &gt;&gt; She lands on the shared ledge nearby Vhaeryth, and following a brief interlude between the weyrleader and her lifemate, alerts the other queen: &lt;&lt; She comes. &gt;&gt; It doesn't take long to walk from the ledge to the Weyrwoman's weyr, with N'rov as escort, but he doesn't come for the whole journey; that's for Farideh to weather alone. &quot;Weyrwoman Mirinda,&quot; comes with a genuine smile, &quot;I am very, very glad to meet you. I apologize that it's taken ''this'' long, but-- things as they are.&quot; Farideh's gaze centers on the other woman, her perusal light and curious, her smile never faltering.<br /> <br /> Zaisavyth's warning (and oh, those eyes ''do'' study Farideh as she passes) ensures that Mirinda is in a state of readiness upon Farideh's arrival, rising from her seat near the hearth with one hand resting upon the table, upon which has been laid all the accoutrements for tea. &quot;Weyrwoman Farideh,&quot; she says in return, her smile politely gracious but too cautious to be more than that. &quot;Do come in and make yourself at home. I'm glad to host you; I do apologise for the weather. I trust N'rov made you feel welcome.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Oh, of course.&quot; Farideh moves further into the weyr, angling her steps for the table where their tea service sits. &quot;I've known N'rov for longer than this. When we met, he'd convinced me he was some type of sea man, can you believe that?&quot; She laughs lightly at the memory, and stops nearby the table. &quot;It is better than ''snow'' I suppose-- I always think that I will get over the cold, but it always surprises me when the snow first falls in winter, or sometimes, autumn.&quot; After, she pauses, before: &quot;I hope I didn't interrupt anything.&quot;<br /> <br /> Mirinda's laugh is genuine, if quiet. &quot;I can believe it,&quot; she admits, gesturing towards the nicely padded seats about the table, though she herself seems inclined to wait until her guest has seated herself before following suit. &quot;He is... he can be full of stories. A good man. Fort's lucky to have him. But no-- to answer your question, you haven't interrupted anything. I'm not sure I'll get used to cold rain, let ''alone'' snow. Except that we do what we must, don't we? Will you take tea?&quot;<br /> <br /> Old habits are hard to shake, and Farideh holds out as long as she can before she realizes the other woman is waiting for ''her'' to sit first. When she does, she is quick to divest herself of her rain-dappled jacket and fold it over the arm of the chair. &quot;I have heard that Fort is as lucky to have you as they are him,&quot; she says, studying the other woman with a smile. &quot;Yes, we do what we must, but I don't think I can ever enjoy it. And oh-- yes, I would love tea. Thank you.&quot;<br /> <br /> Plainly, Mirinda is relieved when Farideh does finally sit, though she's too polite to make comment ''before'' then. &quot;If you've heard that,&quot; she says, modestly, as she reaches for the teapot to pour out two servings into fine, delicately painted bone china cups, &quot;Then I am pleased. It can be a difficult mantle to take on at the best times, as I'm sure you know from experience.&quot; Her appended, &quot;How ''is'' everything going at High Reaches?&quot; doesn't ''seem'' to be anything more than genuine interest-- and not nosy probing-- though it can be difficult to tell.<br /> <br /> &quot;I do believe that's ''all'' I've heard, which is a great compliment. I rather thought Fort's weyrfolk were in love with their long time weyrwoman and would mourn her longer.&quot; Farideh's mouth sets into a thoughtful line, her eyes fixated on the pour of tea from the pot into the respective cups. &quot;I can't imagine how you must have felt to find yourself moving from Monaco to Fort so suddenly,&quot; is her response, fingers lacing. &quot;High Reaches is doing well. Irianke was kind enough to have all her affairs in order before she left, and there is K'del, of course,&quot; ''of course''.<br /> <br /> Mirinda focuses her intention more intently upon the pouring of tea than perhaps it warrants, the fine cup eventually handed across to the other goldrider as she gestures towards the cream and sugar on offer. Her own she drinks plain-- or rather, in the short term, ''nurses'' plain, clearly warming her hands with the cup's radiated heat. &quot;It's not a change most of us would ever anticipate,&quot; she allows, of her move. &quot;Nor desire, I expect. It's a difficult way to win allegiance. Still.&quot; Dark eyes lift to focus upon Farideh. &quot;I'm glad you're managing. And that you've visited. I enjoyed the company of your soon-to-be junior, only a few sevens ago.&quot;<br /> <br /> Farideh receives the cup of tea with a grateful smile and a murmured ''thank you'', before she too is warming her chilled hands against its curved sides; she will eventually put sugar in hers, enough to make it particularly sweet. &quot;There ''are'' those who are ambitious and ''want'' the position,&quot; she replies, &quot;but fortunately, that type of motivation passed me by.&quot; It's only a ''little'' dry. &quot;Jocelyn?&quot; she asks, lifting her head from her cup. &quot;I wasn't aware that she had made it by for a visit, but I suppose I can only be pleased that you ''enjoyed'' the visit and not the opposite,&quot; is her answer, with the hint of a smile about her lips.<br /> <br /> &quot;The ambitious ones-- well, no. I shouldn't say that they're the ones you should be afraid of; we ''do'' need people who want the job. But at the same time, it does feel like there's something to be said for doing a job because it is your ''duty'', and not for personal gratification.&quot; Mirinda's logic may not be wholly sound, but she seems comfortable with that comment nonetheless. &quot;Do you not expect people to enjoy Jocelyn's visits? It was... for me, it was cathartic. There has been such complicated history between the Weyr of my birth and High Reaches. My ''family'' and High Reaches.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Personal gratification-- is that quite the same as wanting to be ''the top''?&quot; is the young goldrider's question, face contemplative. It's something that she does not linger on overmuch, her expression relaxing as she takes a dainty sip of tea. &quot;I want nothing more than for everyone to enjoy visits with all of High Reaches' riders, especially its weyrleaders, even ones still in training. Jocelyn has a way of saying things sometimes though that can-- rub people the wrong way. I'm happy to find out that it was--&quot; She pauses, lips parted, and then presses on, &quot;Cathartic, for you.&quot; On the Monacoans' family, well. There's a neutral smile and a polite nod.<br /> <br /> &quot;Perhaps,&quot; Mirinda muses, &quot;Not ''just'' personal gratification.&quot; But she's happy enough to move on from that, ''and'' from the frankly fraught topic of the past, and her family's role within it. Instead, she takes a dainty sip of her own tea and then says, &quot;In any case, it can only be a positive thing to have a capable-seeming junior-- I imagine this period would be more difficult for you, without the extra pair of hands, as little as any of us ''generally'' need more than two queens.&quot;<br /> <br /> Tea is the savior of the day, it would seem. Plenty of hidden smiles and unsaid words behind the rims of those prettily painted cups. &quot;It is undeniably useful,&quot; Farideh says, donning another one of those polite smiles. &quot;How is your junior doing? I would congratulate her on the good clutching, but I'm afraid we can't stay ''too long''. You'll pass along my felicitations, I hope?&quot;<br /> <br /> Polite smiles-- and more of them, still, though Mirinda seems somewhat wistful, as though she'd like this conversation to have taken a different turn, perhaps towards something more ''genuine''. &quot;She's doing well,&quot; she says, firmly. &quot;And I will, of course. First clutches can be-- well, they're an interesting experience, but hard, or so I found it. Most things get easier with time and it has been a difficult turn, in the end, for Dahlia. For a lot of us.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;I found my first to be tedious, and dubtless will find any future ones. Roszadyth is not fussy and she's not-- angry, like some queens can get, but she can get uncharacteristically needy and-- it's just a lot of sitting and waiting and staring and--&quot; Farideh's laugh ''is'' genuine, this time. &quot;It has,&quot; is soberer, as her tea cup is sat upon her knee, with one hand on the handle to keep it from falling. &quot;How are-- your Holds faring in light of-- everything?&quot; It's a delicate situation, delicate ''question'' to ask, even.<br /> <br /> &quot;It's awful,&quot; is blunt and honest, and nonetheless comes with a wry smile. &quot;It was terrible the first time, for me, because Zaisavyth clutched a queen, and we knew it. Terrible this most recent time because... well, she's ''senior'', over Taeliyth, and wants everyone to know it. I'm so glad she's not a frequent riser.&quot; Mirinda sets down her cup upon the surface of the table, frowning lightly as she makes her (honest, if not blunt) answer: &quot;Complicatedly. Several short tithes, short by a ''lot'' in some cases. Bargaining. It's a strange thing, to have a ''complete'' set of brand new Holders... though I acknowledge they would all be new to me, regardless. I expect it may take turns before they're back on their feet.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;How very fortunate for you,&quot; Farideh replies, and ''means'' it. &quot;I do hope that Roszadyth, too, is not a frequent riser. It took forever to get back out and about, and she doesn't-- well, she doesn't want to go flying around places ''without'' me and I always feel the same, with her.&quot; Clutching, eggs, blah; who needs them. Back to seriousness, she gives Mirinda a sympathetic look, bordering on empathetic but not quite. &quot;At least they are not so old and set in their ways, or jaded towards your leadership. Our own predicament can't be claimed to be perfect by any measure. I wonder how we'll carry on, the farther we get into the Interval. ''Will'' we manage? Well, we must, mustn't we.&quot;<br /> <br /> Mirinda's nod acknowledges all of the things Farideh says, though she does admit, &quot;Despite it all, I do ''enjoy'' the fact that she has children. They're our legacy-- there's something wonderful in that, even if the rest is...&quot; Unpleasant. Terrible. Awful. The twist of her mouth in response to the rest of the other goldrider's words suggests she has some knowledge of what's been going on at High Reaches, whether or not she knows ''everything''. &quot;We'll have to,&quot; she agrees, forehead pinched. &quot;Though I do have to wonder how, sometimes. We'll have had thirty-two new dragons within the space of a turn, too, and... it's easier in the south. There's more space to be self-sustaining. At least, for now, Fort's holds are not ''hostile''.&quot;<br /> <br /> ''Clutchings, children, legacies''-- all that gets a wrinkle of her nose and little else. &quot;Thirty-two is quite a lot, and with a new weyrlingmaster team at that. I don't envy them, I suppose as much as they don't envy us,&quot; Farideh says, voice rife with dry amusement. She leans forward then, setting her mostly-finished tea back on the table where the service sits. &quot;I'll keep your good fortune in my thoughts, and hopefully both of our situations will get better. I shouldn't keep you. I'm sure you have plenty to do. I ''am'' glad I finally got to meet you.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Olivya--&quot; but Mirinda doesn't finish whatever thought she had on the state of Fort's weyrlingmaster team, or their opinions on goldriders and their burdens. Farideh is, after all, excusing herself, and the Fortian Weyrwoman is too polite not to respond to that, rising fluidly to her feet. &quot;And I will do likewise,&quot; is quiet but genuine, with a hint of genuine warmth that backs up her: &quot;I am also glad to have had the opportunity to meet you, Farideh. It was... a pleasure. I'd like it if relations between our two Weyrs could be positive, going forward; I hope you'll reach out, if there are things we can do to assist each other, given our shared borders.&quot;<br /> <br /> Hazel eyes lift to the other weyrwoman in question at the weyrlingmaster's name, and then her attention easily shifts to her leave taking. &quot;It has certainly exceeded my expectations. I had met Hattie in the past. She was hard to like,&quot; Farideh notes, too truthfully, as she pushes up from her seat and gets to her feet. &quot;I welcome the change in atmosphere. I hope we can continue to keep up a positive bond between our two areas and-- the same, if you ever have a need or a concern-- I ''do'' take our riders misbehaving badly-- please don't hesitate to reach out to us. Roszadyth likes Zaisavyth, anyway,&quot; comes wry. &quot;Until we see each other again?&quot; It's with a smile, and a nod, that she turns, making her way back out to the ledge.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz https://norconwiki.louisebennett.name/index.php?title=Logs:Unrealistically&diff=84632 2016-01-29T15:52:58Z

<p>Roz: Created page with &quot;{{Log |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, N'rov, N'rov{{!}}Vhaeryth |what=Farideh makes a trip to Fort and happens upon N'rov. |where=Weyrleaders' Ledge, Fort Weyr |involves=...&quot;</p> <hr /> <div>{{Log<br /> |who=Farideh{{!}}Roszadyth, Farideh, N'rov, N'rov{{!}}Vhaeryth<br /> |what=Farideh makes a trip to Fort and happens upon N'rov.<br /> |where=Weyrleaders' Ledge, Fort Weyr<br /> |involves=Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr<br /> |day=12<br /> |month=12<br /> |turn=39<br /> |IP=Interval<br /> |IP2=10<br /> |gamedate=2016.01.28<br /> |quote=&quot;Don't worry; I don't want you dead.&quot;<br /> |mentions=Irianke, K'del, Mirinda<br /> |type=Log<br /> |icons-new=Icon farideh roszadyth demure.jpg, Icon farideh sweet.png, Icon n'rov salute.png, Icon n'rov vhaeryth.jpg,<br /> |log=It's Fort, so it's raining. Vhaeryth flashes out of ''between'' and into a long, showy spiral over his Weyr, touching minds with dragon after dragon, ''home''. If N'rov gets wetter, so be it. That's what leathers are for.<br /> <br /> ''Rain'', so unexpected. It doesn't stop the pair from High Reaches that appear from ''between'' not more than a minute after the Weyrleader and his bronze. It's Roszadyth's sunny exuberance that meets Vhaeryth's mind touch as she wings down to the muddy muck that is the weyrbowl.<br /> <br /> Vhaeryth is still in the air, and moreover, ''he'' isn't touching that muddy muck; it may be his muck, but he's having nothing of it. His warmth greets her, welcomes her, and invites her: he has stone, and he can ''share''. This way: down to that ledge on the Bowl's edge, a narrow flight of stairs (human stairs, not dragon stairs, and therefore unimportant except for identification) higher than his mate's. His landing is quick, deft; N'rov glances upward (tracking, will-she won't-she) and does not shake his head.<br /> <br /> ''No''? Ok! With Vhaeryth's instruction, it is a delicate landing that Roszadyth makes on the ledge he so helpfully provides. It takes Farideh's much longer than that to unbuckle and dismount, and she's buttoning up her jacket when she steps towards N'rov, smiling. &quot;''Hello'', Weyrleader, ''sir'',&quot; she says, as polite as it is teasing. &quot;I've yet to congratulate you. I can only say sorry, and now, congratulations to both you and Vhaeryth.&quot;<br /> <br /> By then N'rov's standing out of the way, not incidentally under the overhang (Vhaeryth may be just fine with the rain with the moment, drawn out in a long arc that lets it runnel along his lean frame, but he can have it), and he sketches her a bow; &quot;Well met, ''Acting Weyrwoman'',&quot; is all things amused. &quot;Waiting for rank? Welcome to Fort.&quot;<br /> <br /> Dragons make convenient umbrellas, but Farideh doesn't make it within the overhang completely dry; not that she seems to mind for the moment. &quot;Me? Faranth, no. I wish fervently, every night, that Irianke comes back in one piece and soon.&quot; She laughs, standing back to consider N'rov and his fancy new knot. &quot;It suits you, I think.&quot; And after a short pause: &quot;I was just going to see your Weyrwoman, but I suppose a couple minutes to catchup wouldn't ''hurt''.&quot;<br /> <br /> N'rov strikes a pose, shoulder angled so she can better see, his profile held high like a dramatically militant statue's; in the next moment he's relaxed again, smiling, wholly at ease. &quot;Maybe you'll have your wish tonight. Tell me, is it better if she wakes you up or saves the surprise? And,&quot; his glance down towards Zaisavyth's weyr is briefly, elusively fond, &quot;I won't keep you as long as all that. Though I had expected you,&quot; and gray eyes are very much on Farideh now, &quot;over to admire ''our'' set of 'ovoids.'&quot; 'Admire.'<br /> <br /> It's inevitable, Farideh's laugh. &quot;I would gladly wake up before dawn to be told that Irianke is back and all is reinstated, and I can continue on as things were ''before''. As it ''is''--&quot; She sighs and glances back out to the ledge, to the dragons and the rain. &quot;''Eggs''. Oh, no. I'm afraid Roszadyth will get ''ideas''. I know, I know-- it's unrealistic, but a part of me still ''worries'', sometimes. Unrealistically.&quot; She adds, at the end: &quot;If I have time, I'll go and see them. I heard there's plenty.&quot;<br /> <br /> N'rov has to laugh at that, and look over at her Roszadyth (whom Vhaeryth is contriving not to drip on) as though in speculation, even squinting one eye and bugging out the other before resuming his usual urbane stance. &quot;And yet,&quot; for unrealistically. Then he's not laughing, not even a little, though he doesn't let himself grimace. &quot;One would think Taeliyth were trying to repopulate the Weyr on her own. I suppose it shouldn't be hard to find a few more warm bodies, but finding those that could be ''right'' for our dragons... is more difficult.&quot;<br /> <br /> Roszadyth takes the eye-squinting stare in stride, though Farideh presses knuckles to lips to keep from laughing riotously at the imagine Fort's weyrleader portrays. &quot;And yet, she rose early ''once'', and clutched a queen we did not need,&quot; she murmurs, her eyes turning from the bronzerider, to the gold, and back again. &quot;We can only ''hope''. There's no fast, easy way to discern ''which'' are ''the ones'', right? Mirinda's queen's eggs found appropriate matches. Are you really very worried?&quot; At this point, she's watching him closely.<br /> <br /> &quot;''Unrealistically'',&quot; N'rov says wryly, &quot;I am very worried that every yellow-looking egg will be a queen.&quot; Unrealistically, but not without sincerity. &quot;As for matches, any matches...&quot; he unfastenes his loose hood, pushes it back, runs his hand through his short hair. &quot;It's hard to say. It's happened before. It shoudn't happen again, and yet. Evidently I'm not worried enough to be hitting you up for your extras, however,&quot; and that has a wry crook to his mouth too.<br /> <br /> &quot;You would be in possession of the greatest life force on Pern,&quot; literally, even. &quot;Do any of them look like a gold's egg in particular?&quot; Farideh is curious about that, joking or not, though her own expression changes quickly in response to his wry one, full of wariness. &quot;K'del would kill us both if I made that kind of promise. Have you had trouble? I've heard of the holds' tribulations after--&quot; The plague shall remain nameless, for now. &quot;I would worry. I ''do'' worry, for us, and it wasn't as bad, there.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Don't worry; I don't want you dead,&quot; N'rov assures, momentarily grand for all the seriousness, the ''speculation'' in his gaze. He speaks frankly with her; &quot;No, not our clutch; they all Impressed, they're hale, they're growing. They're good to see. It was before, and the concern lies in combination with... yes. That. But there's enough to deal with, without buying worry, and Mirinda has capable hands.&quot; He glances down the stairs for a moment before looking back at Farideh. &quot;Speaking of whom... shall I escort you to see her? She can no doubt enlighten you on our might-be-golds to boot; all I suppose is that none ''shout'' it, but some sidle up and whisper that they ''might''.&quot;<br /> <br /> &quot;Are you ''sure''?&quot; says Farideh, voice low and ominous, but of course she's joking! Or is she? Smile bright, she turns to face the path leading to the weyrwoman's weyr. &quot;I'm glad to hear it, and I ''hope'' that this second clutch does as well. Shall we adjourn? I don't like to stay gone ''long''. You can call me superstitious, but nothing ''good'' ever happens with the Weyrwoman, true or acting, far from home. We've seen ''enough'' in recent turns, that I'm anxious to put my feet back on High Reaches soil. I'm sure you understand.&quot; And then, she's ready to go, equally as bright eyes on the weyrleader.<br /> <br /> N'rov seems to take all this in stride; &quot;My thanks, O Superstitious One. Given that ours is currently very wet soil...&quot; the weyrleader duly offers his arm (he's been trained!) and, with a grin down at her, ''proceeds''. If Mirinda doesn't beat them to it, he'll even introduce the Dramatic One, Vhaeryth's queen, before leaving weyrwomen and Zaisavyth to their dealings.<br /> |Categories=General Logs<br /> }}</div>

Roz