Decidedly Green

PMSy Raliah pitches a fit and Beryth makes it all better.

2008-09-27T22:56:19Z

Raliah's Weyr(#305RJh) Winter. Light Snow. 28F / -2C.
It's a little bit tight in here, two small bubble caverns interlacing with each other to form a dragon's area and the rider's area. The wallow is big enough to accomodate a green or a blue, but any dragon bigger than a mid-sized brown might have some trouble squeezing in here. The ledge on the other hand is spacious enough, just means draconic guests may have to wait outside. A cozy bed, chest of drawers, desk and chair make up the furnishings in the rider's part of the weyr and a round braided rug takes the chill out of the floor. There's shelves and niches dug into the walls, some of them containing little glass bottles, as if someone took the time to make sure this space had a smidgen of welcome for its new occupant in spite of Benden's relative poverty.

-- Players -- Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair. -- Exits --
Sky......................[Out]

CHINK.

>> I HATE her! <<

Raliah pitched a boot at her wall, following the plate that had just been destroyed. Beryth peered into the smaller room, eyes whirring calmly.

<< You’re overreacting. >>

Raliah narrowed her eyes and aimed a boot at the dragon.

<< Oh, stop. She’s not worth this. >>

The girl pitched the boot at the wall next to the dragon instead, and then proceeded to chuck every single other shoe she owned at other walls. A small hammer, made for helping to make straps, went flying and chipped off a spray of rock particles and shower of sparks. The lid to a pot of numbweed made a spectacular mess of an area near to her bed. She had the sense not to shout aloud, but Beryth bore the full brunt of her screaming, cursing rage.

>> The wretched wherry! She’s a worthless tunnelsnake! How DARE she! How DARE she suggest that I /just go home/ and leave you here! She calls herself Weyrbred, and yet she’s so stupid that she ought to be some wherryheaded hidebound holder! <<

Inarticulate rage fueled her wild pacing, but at least she stopped throwing things.

>> Wherrybrained tunnelsnake! Next time she comes here I’m going to knock her off of the ledge and see how well she flies! Shardit! Shards, shards, shards, fardling stupid, worthless... <<

On and on she went, while Beryth watched calmly, worried yellow only occasionally creeping into her calmly-whirring eyes. The dragon wasn’t overly concerned about the girl; this would pass quickly enough, as soon as she was done screaming. Visits from her mother never made the girl happy; the dragon had half a mind to forbid them, and R’bori’s dragon had already gotten a sound tongue-lashing for allowing his rider to bring the woman to Raliah.

<< Calm down, Raliah. She won’t be coming back now. Don’t worry. Hush. Come on – let’s go for a bit of a flight. That’ll calm your nerves. We’ll go to that cave you like so much. Put your coat on, dear – and wear the shawl she brought you. You shouldn’t not wear it just because she knitted it. It looks warm. >>

The dragon calmly spoke, knowing that the girl never fared well on admonishments. Raliah paused in her rampage, where she’d been considering the pot with a small aloe plant in it as if it might make good fodder for the wall as well. She glanced over at the dragon, frowning a little bit, as if attempting to see if she was poking fun at her or not. Eyes narrowed. Finally, “Fine.” She muttered, nodding curtly.

She yanked on her thick riding jacket, moving to gather her boots from other sides of her weyr and stuffing her feet into them haphazardly. Buttoning her jacket, she tugged on the shawl as a scarf, scowling behind it with angry eyes. “I hate her.” She muttered again, in case the dragon had forgotten. “I’ll clean up later.”

Beryth didn’t dare object.

The girl swung herself into the straps that draped over her dragon’s shoulders, buckling herself in securely and tugging on her helmet. Wrapping her shawl securely, the girl leaned down to lay against the dragon’s neck, sighing a touch sadly and hugging as tight as she could. Beryth’s bright eyes turned back, purple flaring briefly as she nudged the girl’s head with something that could have passed for a toneless chuckle.

<< Oh, Raliah, you can be so silly sometimes. You really needn’t get so worked up over that human. She’s not nearly as important as I am. >>

She strode calmly out of her weyr, glancing up at the clouded sky with its’ puffy snowflakes falling lazily. The wind was negligent, but the clouds would be a bit of a bother. Oh well – it wasn’t as if she had to go /between/ to get to their favorite cavern. She sprung lightly into the air, falling several dragonlengths – more to amuse Raliah than because she liked to – before sweeping down her wings powerfully.

Raliah moved easily with the dragon, legs holding tight to her muscular shoulders, one hand on a neckridge and the other holding the straps. In no time, the dragon was shooting through the clouds, bugling at the cold vapor. Raliah squealed like a little girl, pulling her shawl all the way over her face as the dragon quickly ascended through the layer of puffy clouds. Ice flaked off of her wings as she beat them a few times quickly to rid them of it; it would weigh her down if she didn’t.

After they had gone up, up, up into the bone-achingly cold air, the green angled herself downwards in a shallow spiral for the mountains north of Benden. The air there was clearer, and only a few clouds obscured their view of their destination. At the very foot of one mountain, rocks covered a crack large enough for Beryth and anything smaller than she was to fit inside, but not anything else. Inside was a massive chamber that seemed to be the heart of two mountains resting against each other, though that likely wasn’t the case. There were other delights further within – but they had to get there first.

It took time, as all things do – and by the time they reached that mountain, Raliah was shivering and cold, even through all of her layers. It wasn’t too far below freezing, but in the air, that was quite cold enough! She bustled down off of the dragon, following her into the cavern at a quick pace, swinging her arms and rubbing her gloved hands together. “Cold, cold, cold.” She muttered like a chant, stamping her boots and rubbing her hands in time. Beryth quickly checked to make sure nothing was hiding within the cavern, then went and curled up in her favorite spot; the rocks next to the thermal spring that bubbled up.

It was heated by the same activity that still rumbled beneath this whole area from time to time, and was even better than the baths back in the weyr, hotter and cleaner – nobody seemed to know the location of this nice little cave that they’d found on sweeps. But that wasn’t where Raliah wanted to go, today, and she gazed imploringly at Beryth.

>> I don’t want to go back there alone. <<

It was almost a childish admission, said quietly, as if saying it softly would keep it from being said. Beryth gave her girl a long look, then rose laboriously.

<< It was warm there. >>

She complained meekly, dropping her head to the girl’s shoulder and following her, tailtip twitching faintly. Ah, the peculiarities of humans. The girl’s stride took her quickly into the bowels of the mountain, through a path just barely wide enough for Beryth to fit through, though it was much taller than either of them. Eventually, just as she was having to squirm a bit to fit through ( >> You fit just fine last time we were here... << ), the path opened up a bit, to a broad cavern lit by a single crack out to the side of the mountain.

It was a splendid sight – further down than the entrance, so warmer, and the walls had clearly once been melted by something. They were glass, fantastic colors of creamy green and yellow and blue swirling in a broad band around entirely half of the room and extending to the floor. It reflected the light in glittering prisms on the opposite wall where it had been cracked by the mountain’s shifting in the past, in certain lights, creating broad rainbow patterns. The winter sun was weak and obscured by a thin layer of clouds, but still a pale rainbow played across the almost-black cavern wall. Raliah smiled.

<< There. See? >>

The dragon rumbled pleasantly, moving to rest against the glass wall, leaving one wing up and extended with a curious glance at her girl. The girl grinned and immediately moved over, sitting down with a happy sigh and curling up under the warm embrace of her dragon’s wing. She took off her shawl, using it as a pillow, and sat to watch the rainbow change for a while. Time passed, but eventually Beryth spoke up, quiet and wary.

<< Your memories of that woman are fond until I found you. >>

She stated, having been doing a bit of snooping. Concern touched her voice; she couldn’t remember exactly why the woman was Bad, but it had had something to do with her.

<< You said she disapproves of me. Is this why you are angry with her? >>

>> Not exactly. <<

<< Why are you so unhappy then, Raliah? You were very fond of her. >>

The girl sighed, burying her head in the soft, fragrant hide of her dragon’s shoulder.

>> She says the same thing as everybody else. We’re not supposed to be lifemates. I just wish my ma would be one who’d...support me. <<

She paused; how to explain it to a creature who didn’t remember her mother as her mother?

>> Our parents, foster or not, are even closer to us than our wingmates. Or they’re supposed to be. Your wingmates should always be on your side – and so should you parents. R’bori, at least, doesn’t say I should just leave you. Leave you! Like you’re a canine I can give to somebody else. <<

<< Leave me? That’s just silly, Raliah. You’ll never leave me; and I will never leave you. You know that. Why does it bother you so? >>

She sighed.

>> Your ma isn’t supposed to say things like that, Beryth. It’s just not right. <<

The girl muttered stubbornly, inhaling deeply the spicy scent of dragonflesh with a little smile.

>> She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how it is. And she never will. Is it wrong that that makes me happy? <<

<< Yes. >>

>> She doesn’t deserve it, Beryth! Nobody who thinks like that does. They can all move to some hold in the middle of nowhere and leave us alone. We’d still have to protect them though. <<

The last was bitter, annoyed. She protected people who’d rather she get in the kitchen and make them a roast, or get in the bed and make children – like that was the only thing she could do. Wasn’t she as good as any man? Beryth was big and strong, even bigger than some of the smaller blues, and shells could she fly! All she had to do was be there and be strong for her dragon, feed her the stone, and they thought she wasn’t even capable of that? Her ma thought that she wasn’t?

<< They’re wrong, of course. Raliah, really...why are you so worried about them? It doesn’t matter what they think. Only what I do. And I think you’re the only person worthy of my company. Would you doubt my judgement, Raliah? >>

The dragon’s tone grew challenging, even a touch impatient – they’d been over this countless times, and while she couldn’t remember them, the dragon knew full well how often the argument came around. Raliah sighed.

>> No, Beryth. I wouldn’t. You know that. <<

She was silent for some time, once more watching the play of light on the opposite wall waver and fade with every passing cloud, before coming back even stronger than before. They were bright now – it must have stopped snowing, and come to midday. It was her rest day, and her turnday, but she felt like it wasn’t the best idea to sit around /all/ day. Beryth lifted her wing, letting in the cool air of the cavern. It didn’t seem as warm as it had when they’d first entered. “Shells. Cold.” She muttered, wrapping the shawl back as a scarf.

<< It’ll be even colder in a minute. Make sure that doesn’t fly off, dear. >>

Beryth rumbled pleasantly, nudging her girl fondly. Raliah managed a little smile. “You’re loads of help, of course. Let’s go to the gather. Ma gave me enough to buy something pretty for our weyr. I think it ought to be some nice dye for the pair of straps that I just finished. She’d be suitably annoyed with me.” The girl grinned now. Beryth snorted.

<< If you must. Just not red. I /remember/ the red ones, and that you had to dye them black, Raliah. Red does /not/ look good against my hide. >>

“Fine. Blue.”

<< As you wish. Shall we? >>

L'dor has an interesting proposition for Raliah.

2008-09-21T04:05:16Z

Living Cavern(#25RHIJM4) Early Winter. Flurry. 27F / -3C.

 Huge, still mostly the natural shape of the bubble cavern that formed it though embellished with intricate columns, the living cavern is large enough to seat over two thousand people at any given time. Gleamingly clean, the space is clearly well-kept by the hard work of the lower caverns staff. High in the eastern walls, narrow windows allow slants of light to dapple the room during the day, a plethora of glowbaskets in well-spaced niches around the cavern provide a warm, ambient glow after sunset. Many long tables are placed around the room, providing plentiful seating, some boasting chairs around them, others sturdy benches that seat ten at a time. The walls are decorated with a set of simple color-block tapestries and one that's more ornate, recently restored, depicting the settling of Benden during Torene's time. The cavern has a welcoming, homey feel to it in spite of its size.
 The exits from here are pretty clear-cut: A set of handsomely carved stone steps lead up to the balcony-style kitchen that wraps around the cavern; a tunnel on the eastern wall slopes upward just slightly on its way out to the bowl; the southern tunnel slopes downward steadily as it dips into the Weyr's inner caverns.

-- Players --
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
L'dor..........28, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather thin & gangly.

-- Exits --
 Kitchen..................[N] Bowl.....................[E]
 Inner Caverns............[S]

It's towards the end of lunchtime, and numbers in the living cavern are dwindling. E'sere's wing has been sitting together for lunch after a morning drill; even the Wingleader is present, though it'll be a few days before the recovering bronzerider is ready to fly for that length of time. Nevertheless, they've had an extensive discussion of their performance over lunch, and in general everyone is looking pretty pleased. Now, it's a free afternoon and the riders are starting to drift away. L'dor's still sitting with a nearly empty klah mug in front of him, trying to catch the eye of one of the greenriders.

Among those looking content is Raliah, who's finished a nice meal and is nursing happily a mug of klah. She doesn't pay much attention to her departing wingmates when they're done speaking about wing matters, but smiles to a few all the same. From time to time she lapses into staring into space, eyes unfocused -- either a sign that she's almost asleep while sitting with her eyes open, or perhaps more likely (despite a nice-sized meal) that she's speaking with Beryth. Something distracts her though, and the girl blinks over at L'dor. A slow glance around, and she rises with a stretch from her chair and moves closer to the bluerider. "I'm going to go get some more klah! Would you like any?" She grins down at the almost-empty mug.

"Good idea," L'dor replies with a grin. With a nod to E'sere, he stands and picks up his mug, then empties it in a final gulp, but doesn't hand it over immediately to Raliah. Instead, he takes a few steps away from the table, saying "I'll wander over with you, in fact."

Raliah smiles faintly for E'sere, then peers back at L'dor. "Too sharding cold to do without a nice full mug whenever one can be had." The girl laughs, nodding after a moment. "Lovely." She agrees, flashing a smile and turning to meander towards the pitchers with all of the grace of an eggheavy gold. Somebody ate too much.

L'dor lowers his voice as he follows close behind the greenrider. "Have you finished your lunch? I was hoping for a word with you, in fact, but not in front of everyone else. Let's get the klah and take a turn down the tunnels." Coming to the klah pots, he sets his mug down, picks up one of the large jugs, and holds out a hand for Raliah's mug.

Raliah smiles back at L'dor, nodding. "Might never eat again." She mutters by way of a response, eyebrows knitting curiously. But his tone doesn't indicate that she's done something wrong, so worry doesn't quite register in the look. It smooths out quickly again into a little grin as she nods and hands over her mug. "Sure." She reponds with a nod. "Of course."

L'dor pours klah into first the greenrider's mug, then his own, and holds Raliah's out towards her, handle first, keeping as little of his fingers as possible in contact with the hot pottery. "There you go. Shall we?" The question's accompanied by a tilt of the head towards one of the passages that leads into the inner parts of the Weyr.

Raliah accepts the mug with a thankful grin, wrapping her fingers around the whole thing without apparent care for the scalding temperature. Her expression borders on delighted as she sticks her nose over the klah and inhales. "Ooh. Thank you." The girl sighs happily, then nods. "Lead the way?"

L'dor heads out down the passage, waiting until he's well clear of the living cavern and there's nobody else about before he starts to explain. Even then, he keeps his voice down. "All right, this may seem a bit odd. But, this conversation is confidential - you don't repeat anything we're going to talk about. Got it?"

Inner Caverns(#150RJ) Early Winter. Light Snow. 29F / -2C.

 A warren of caverns and tunnels run through the interior of Benden Weyr. Most are in good repair and boast a fresh coat of either white wash or an interesting shade of mauve paint as do many of the doors along the corridor. Those that are no longer serviceable are blocked off by wooden rails. Regardless of the time of day or season, these caverns are perpetually a bit chilly though well-tended glow baskets provide adequate illumination at all times.
 The main tunnel here leads up to the living cavern. Branches off of this go in various directions: several lead to the various workrooms used by crafters and weyrfolk; a narrow tunnel winds up in the nighthearth; a long, open corridor passes several rooms and offices before terminating at the dormitory; and so on. Another long tunnel leads to the entrance cavern far to the south, and from there to the road out of the Weyr.

-- Players --
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
L'dor..........28, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather thin & gangly.
-- Exits --
 Tunnel...................[TU] Workrooms................[WR]
 Living Cavern............[N] Bowl.....................[E]
 Infirmary................[IN] Nighthearth..............[NH]
 Residential Hallway......[RH]

Storage Rooms and Unloading Area Early Winter. Light Snow. 29F / -2C.
Here, the Inner Gate of the Weyr opens out into a vast kidney-shaped cavern used to unload tithe wagons as they arrive at Benden laden with goods. Carved into the walls are niches for glows, low benches and work spaces meant to hold boxes and so on as they're pulled off of carts to make smaller loads that can more easily be carried up into Stores. To the east, a tunnel leads up into the Bowl, while the apex of the kidney to the northeast opens out into the lower end of the Storage Rooms, each giving out onto the tunnel and labeled according to use. Due west is the mouth of the tunnel that leads out of the Weyr. This can be blocked off with massive rolling stone gates to prevent entry into the Weyr from the ground. Beyond the gate is the long winding Tunnel Road to the Outer Gate which opens out onto the plateau holding Benden Lake.
-- Players --
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
L'dor..........28, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather thin & gangly.
-- Exits --
 Tunnel Road..............[TR] Inner Caverns............[IC]
 Southern Bowl............[SB]

Raliah's eyes narrow as she follows L'dor, curiosity once more flaring -- this time unchecked. "Of course not." She shakes her head quickly. "You can count on me." A bouyant grin is offered as she moves alongside of the bluerider. She's quiet for a bit, before, "Why all the secrecy?" is asked curiously, quietly though they're not likely to run into anybody.

"Lots of reasons," L'dor replies, still walking at a steady pace along the inner tunnels. He's heading in the direction of the storage areas and the road out of the Weyr. "One of them is to keep our options open. Let me tell you what it's about, and you can probably work it out for yourself. We're going to do some survey flights down South, and we need some people to do them. Discreetly. I thought you might be interested."

Raliah doesn't seem to notice direction, just follows the stride of the bluerider curiosuly. Lots of reasons certainly doesn't satisfy her -- her expression grows a touch exasperated -- but soon enough it's explained. The girl listens quietly, then blinks, pausing mid-step to eye L'dor like he's offered her a pile of rotting dung. "L'dor." She attempts to say calmly, but a mixture of motions manage to creep in. "Why?" A pause. "I don't -- I don't see why we'd..." The greenrider looks for a moment like she's struggling to find words. "Why we'd want to see something like that." But she's quiet for a moment, before nodding. "I can be discreet. I'll...if you think it's right, of course I will." But she looks dubious, eyeing the bluerider like he's cracked. At any rate, she starts walking again.

"One thing is, we might be going to start gathering down there again." L'dor walks on, turns a corner. "We still aren't getting all the tithes we need, and it's going to be tight with supplies before spring comes round. We don't want it getting out that we're doing that." A few paces in silence, then, "It might not help our position when S'dric negotiates with Benden if it looks as if we've got people to spare, or another source of supplies. Because, let's face it, we /don't/ really have people to spare - unless we use the refugees."

Raliah follows closely, eyebrows still knitted, still watching L'dor for any sudden insane giggling or other signs of impending madness. "Well." The girl says slowly after a minute. "I guess it would be a great idea." She admits, pauses. "If thread hasn't fallen down there yet." She poses it like a question, daring to allow a flicker of hope touch her features. "No." She agrees with a firm shake of her head. "I don't imagine it would, at all. And we don't, but for...them. Yes." Her eyebrows plunge even further, and now the bluerider is tossed a look, one eyebrow rising.

"Mmmm, yes, well. That's the other thing. Thread." They've reached a quiet area some way into the tunnels, and L'dor stops walking and turns to face Raliah, standing with his back to the wall. "Yes, it's fallen. Many times - as often as here. That's one of the things we want to check out - the damage. It's... rather odd."

Raliah stops too, expression curious but wary. Her face falls a little at the frequency problem, but she nods slowly. "I...see." Except she doesn't. "Okay. To scout out damage. That makes sense." The girl smiles and nods, eyes falling to stare at her feet. "Odd...odd how?" Eyes rise again, and she tilts her head.

"There's not enough of it," L'dor says flatly. "Some places are devastated - nothing living at all. It's horrible. But then, others - Thread has fallen, but there's no damage except to what it touched as it fell. No burrows, no signs of the grass or trees being eaten. And we really don't want /that/ getting out before we understand what's going on."

Raliah's expression goes completely blank and she sways a little on her feet, eyeing L'd as she was earlier. "Shells." Is all she can think to mutter, blinking vaguely. "What /could/ cause anything like that? I mean, that's -- " Her hands go up and flap. "That's cracked, that is. Not natural. I..." The girl stares at her toes again for a moment, before turning to stare at L'dor again. "I know you wouldn't kid about something like that. It almost seems a twisted, not-funny-at-all joke. When can I go see it?"

L'dor shakes his head; he's looking deadly serious. "Not joking. It was... weird. I've seen it myself. Seen Thread churning and writhing and growing as it eats itself to death - and then a few yards away, it came down and just seemed to vanish. Horrible - but think what it'd mean, if some areas were safe from it."

Raliah goes a little green -- nightmares flash and she winces, shaking her head. "L'dor!" She almost scolds. "You made sure you were safe, right? That...so dangerous!" The girl stutters in exasperation, hands finding her hips. "It would mean..." A pause to squint, thoughtfully. "It would mean...lots of things. That's." And here, a vague gesture and a shrug. Speechless, Raliah?

L'dor pulls a face at Raliah's outburst. "We followed the trailing edge, and we were mighty careful when we landed - S'dric, Geneve and me. I tell you, it was mighty scary: you're not to go trying anything like that. But remember, that is absolutely not to be mentioned except to the people involved - you'll know who when we go out. Not sure if S'dric's told the wingleaders yet. And make sure Beryth doesn't spread it around."

Raliah still scowls, eyes alight, wary. "Of course I'm not." The girl states with a shake of her head. "You're all cracked to have done that. Could have been killed!" And respect for one's elders be damned, apparently! But her voice has lost its' edge, and her expression is only faintly disturbed as she paces a few steps. "Of course not. Never." A firm shake of her head. "Okay. No. Beryth won't. Will...we be going out soon?"

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth is there. Calm, calm, calm.

Anger, annoyance -- fear. >> Where would we be if they had been killed? <<

<< Wiser. If they did it, they must have had a good reason. They are older and wiser than you are, Raliah. Stop being so rude about it. >>

L'dor takes the chiding in good part. "That's pretty much what I thought when I was doing it," he grins. "I'm not sure if we'll go before Turn's End. Might be better to leave it until after: I need to speak to a couple of people and make a plan - but I'll let you know. We might squeeze a trip in before, and once you've all been over once, we can fly singly, like a normal sweep. Just, you'll need to make notes of what you see where."

Raliah glances in the direction that might be Out, snorting and rolling her eyes at something. Then she turns to L'dor, expression slowly spreading to a sheepish grin. "Good." She states with another roll of her eyes, then nodding. "Okay, that works." The young greenrider squints, then nods again. "Notes -- that...makes sense, yeah. I probably wouldn't be able to remember everything I saw, of course." She pauses for a long moment, looking like she'd like to say something -- but eventually it's out with it. "Did you...did you see where we stayed?"

"Not that time, but I've been there," L'dor admits. "I looked around a couple of times before I talked to S'dric, and found that he already knew about it." He gives a small one-shouldered shrug. "It's still there - the place, I mean. Thread should have fallen there, but there's not much damage. Of course, there's not much to see: we didn't leave very much. Those stone walls that the people at the orchard built are about all that's left from our time in the past. We took down all our shelters before we came back, and wood wouldn't have lasted anyway." He sounds a little sad about that.

Raliah smiles, a touch whimsical and sad. "I'm glad it's still there." She admits with a nod. "Even if not much of it. You know. At least it's not." The girl gestures broadly. "Gone. So." The last is said with a thoughtful frown. "How...are we going to get supplies from down there?" Curiosity once more makes an appearance, and the girl tilts her head, frowning a little.

L'dor raises his eyebrows. "Hunt? Gather food, like last time? That'd be a start, anyway. After that... we'll have to see. We might also have to send some dragons down, like before - especially if anyone stays. And keep a close eye on the Fall charts." He takes a deep breath. "Well, I guess that's it for now. Banyth'll speak to Beryth when we need to go down there."

Raliah's expression is thoughtful, not entirely focused on L'dor -- but she does hear what he says. A slow nod is offered after a few moments. "That makes sense." The girl murmurs, one foot tapping a rhythm on the stone flooring. After a moment she manages a smile up at the bluerider, looking a little awkward. "Uh. Thank you for thinking of me, L'dor." A smile. "I promise we'll keep it quiet. You won't regret it."

"I know," L'dor says firmly. "And there wasn't much point in /not/ telling you what we'd found - you need to know what to look out for." He smiles. "Right. I'm going to see if I can drag Andoran away from the children for a trip to the Gather. Clear skies, Raliah." With a smile, he turns away, and heads back along the tunnel at a brisk pace.

Raliah smiles, nodding once more. "Good luck!" She calls after the bluerider with a little smile, shaking her head wonderily and wandering after him, likely in search of Beryth.

Hallam: Search'd

2008-09-16T09:20:42Z

Stable Early Winter. Windy. 25F / -4C.

 Under a stone eave along the southern wall of the bowl, the stables are small and cramped. The smells of hay and animal sweat and dung hang heavily in the narrow space. Though there is room for a dozen, the Weyr only boasts eight runners presently - one nag, three mares, one stud and two geldings. The tack-room, near the first of the stalls, boasts several sets of tack hanging on hooks and saddles hung neatly on the wall beside each set. The only way in or out is through wide, double-doors that open on to the feeding grounds.

-- Players --
Hallam.........Tall, slender, angular; brown hair, gray eyes
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
-- Exits --
 Feeding Grounds..........[N]

"C'mon now. Atta girl, easy." Hallam's voice is soft, coming from inside one of the middle stalls, but somehow there's something very different about the way he's addressing the chestnut mare he's trying to coax back into the compartment. For starters, it's not as cold as wind that rattles the doors in a fairly consistant manner, and every time she shies back nervously. Still, Hallam's patience seems everlasting, and even the gentle clicking of his tongue calms the mare slightly, her ears rising slightly in response. "I know, darlin'. I don't like it either. C'mon now. We'll get you in and it'll be warmer for both of us."

Raliah's entered quietly among the door-rattling and wind-howling, and stands in the aisle looking around with a smile, inhaling with delight. Who knows what she's here for, but it's apparent that finding anybody actually here is a surprise to the girl -- her eyebrows shoot up at the sound of a voice. It's a battle between bolting and staying, but something about the voice that's coming from one of the stalls has her eyebrows furrowing curiously. On feet that don't make much noise, the girl moves slowly up the aisle of stalls, not bothering to take her riding jacket off -- it might be a bit warmer in here, and not windy, but it's still cold. She says nothing for the moment, standing a little beyond the stall that Hallam is talking to the runner mare in, eyebrows still furrowed.

Hallam's intent on the task at hand, but that doesn't for a single second stop his eyes from flickering in surprise at the motion to the mare's flank. He blinks once at Raliah, eyes betraying nothing except careful scrutiny, but he doesn't address her. The mare has budged, and she's watching the boy with huge, trusting eyes as she steps into the stable beside him. He closes the gate behind her, gently stroking her forehead as he reaches for the blanket draped over the wall. "Greenrider," he says, and there's a distinct difference to his voice - it shares a temperature only a few degrees warmer than the air. "It's awful late."

Raliah has enough tact to keep herself from grinning like the half-sane little imp that she is, but she does smile brightly. "Hallam." She greets, tilting her head and wiggling her fingers at the pretty mare. "She's lovely. You're really good with her." The frosty tone is all but ignored, and returned with chipperness. Poor Hallam. The girl stays respectfully back from the runner though -- she's clearly nervous, and the girl has enough sense to notice it. She does snort though. "Yeah, it is. I can't sleep, it's too sharding early and it's too fardling cold to fly. I don't want to sit in the Living Cavern with the annoying old men, and I can't find Esse, she's probably with Ailuth." Her chin juts out. "Why're /you/ here?"

Hallam's answer is characteristically nonverbal: a non-committal one-shouldered shrug cut short when he presses his forehead to the mare's. He murmurs something that sounds something like, "Good night, darling," before he backs out of the stall. "Cold. So you come to the place where you're like to be colder?" He gestures to the rattling doors. In subconscious response to the cool air leaking through the cracks, his hands find the fur-lining of his pockets. "Surely you didn't come to check on the runners at this hour." His smile, almost as frigid as his voice, has a knowing edge to it.

Raliah's smile is nice and bland. "What can I say?" She laughs. "If I were in the air, it'd be colder, you know." This is said with a nosewrinkle as she rubs her hands together. "I'm sure /you/ have someplace warm to be, and /you're/ not there." The girl's eyes narrow faintly for a moment, and she looks almost ready to launch into a diatribe -- but she's been taught well, and only sticks her nose in the air again. "I'm not any shardin' different from you just because I'm a girl, if that's what you're thinking." It's challenging, but the girl doesn't really sound like she thinks he is. "I..." She squirms a little. "I knew I'd find you here. And." A somewhat childish, challenging look, once more. "It's been a while since I rode a runner. And. I thought maybe you'd let me ride one. I'm sure nobody'd mind." Riiight.

Hallam's brow makes a hike for his hairline incredulously, and he leans casually against the gate, crossing his legs at the ankle and looking at his boots. It's not a gesture made out of discomfort; it's made out of comfortable confidence, as though he senses her discomfort - no matter how vague - and is relishing in it. "I'll have to work on being less predictable," he muses, but he doesn't sound upset in the least when he continues, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." He glances around the stables, meeting the few pairs of huge eyes of the runners still awake. "Take your pick. Except him," he points to the stud in the back, "and her," to the mare he's just replaced.

Raliah's eyes narrow at the expression and the lean, and she scowls faintly. She has enough sense not to speak further on the subject, though, and glances away, finding something /else/ to watch. By the time she glances back at Hallam she's smiling again, bright and cheerful once more. "Really?" The girl bounces on her toes, smiling broadly. "Thank you! It's been so long, I'm always so busy..." Her eyes go distant for a moment and she grins at something, before nodding stoutly. "No, not that one. I think he's the one that bit me once." The stallion is eyed warily, then the mare smiled at. "Was she the one you were riding when you got tossed into the lake?" She doesn't have to go far for her pick -- in the stall next to the mare is the grey gelding she's spoken about before. The girl goes right up to him and pets his nose with a smile. "Hey, big guy."

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth's been listening, of course. Her voice is colored with dissaproval. << Raliah, really. Why must you? >> She sounds vaguely tragic. << Am I not good enough? >>

Raliah's reply is slow in coming, but amused. >> Let me have a little fun, Beryth. << She chides. >> I've not ridden a runner since I Impressed you. I used to like to ride them, you know. We can get up early tomorrow and take a flight together, okay? Even though we don't have to be up. <<

<< Fine. >>

Hallam's shoulders tense very slightly at her enthusiasm, as though that same sort of enthusiasm has led to physical contact before and he's anticipating it happening again. His sigh of relief when she doesn't is a low whoosh, and he turns away with a nod to go the few feet down into the stall where the tack is stored. There's low scuffing and jingling as he gathers the required gear, and his response to her question comes late. "She is. She's just skittish - takes a firmer hand than I thought." The gear is draped over his shoulder and he steps up beside her cluck his tongue at the gelding, unlatching the gate. "Him though. He's easier than breathing." And moments later Hallam's in, working the tack with nimble fingers.

Raliah doesn't notice any tenseness, just smiles happily at the runner that's standing and whuffing at her hand happily. "Aw, really? I bet she doesn't get out much, that's the problem. I'd be skittish if /I/ was cooped up all day, too." The girl nods stoutly, happily scratching beneath the gelding's jaw -- he seems to appreciate it just as much as a dragon does. She watches the stablehand curiously. "He's a sweet guy, this one. We were buddies. They used to only let me muck out his stall and groom him." This gets a faint sigh, but she's still smiling as she pats his neck. "Do you need help?"

"Of course they did," he says, distaste for the undefined 'they' clear in his voice. He's fairly quick with his work, and by the time she's thought to ask he's already sliding the saddle on the gelding's back and buckling it into place. "Maybe next time. You can do it yourself, then you'll have no excuse." He takes the reins and holds them out to her as he leads the gelding back out, swapping them for the door, which he holds open in an almost gentlemanly fashion for the horse. "How long since you rode," he wonders when the runner's clear, allowing the stall to swing closed again and making his way towards the door - even Hallam has a bit of a time concealing his passion for riding. There's a movement in his step that can vaguely be comparied to a spring; one he'd undoubtedly deny if it were ever pointed out.

Raliah's smile is almost a smirk. "Yeah." She agrees happily, then grins. Next time? The girl tactfully keeps her mouth shut and just nods for a moment, before, "Of course." She's agreeing, stepping back to give the runner and stablehand room to get out. The greenrider watches the two of them with a little smile, then takes up a spot to the other side of the gelding, all but bouncing. "Since before I Impressed." Raliah sighs woefully. "I'm always so busy. But it's a little easier to have time to do stuff during the winter." There's a happy smile. "I was never very good at it back then." She does notice the change in Hallam, but intelligently keeps the knowledge to herself, hiding a grin behind hands she breathes on to warm up. The rider skips ahead a few steps, opening one of the doors with a wince at the cold air. "Shells and shards!"

Raliah heads out of the stable.
Feeding Grounds Early Winter. Clear. 23F / -5C.

 Two acres of fenced land marks the feeding grounds, with a small stable under a stone eave along the southern wall. The ground here is harder than the rest of the bowl, covered by grass kept short by the Weyr's small herd. The fenceline is in good repair, kept up by the Weyr's handymen to keep the herd contained. Two scraggly trees near the waterline provide shade for any animals here. The feeding troughs are near the southern wall, not far from the patio-like overhang of stone that serves as a ceiling for the stable.

-- Players --
Hallam.........Tall, slender, angular; brown hair, gray eyes
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
-- Exits --
 Bowl.....................[N] Stable...................[S]

Of the three of them, Hallam seems to be the only one relatively unphased by the cold. Perhaps the boy is just used to it, but the gelding lifts his head slightly at the change in temperature and scent. They make it a fair distance away from the stables before he stops, steadying the gelding and gesturing to Raliah - her cue to get up. He says nothing in regards to her skill or the time it's been since she last rode, just holds the reins and the gelding steady. After a moment, he decides, "I'll walk you first, if you'd like. Just so he doesn't get bothered." Yes. Of course. So the runner doesn't get bothered; not so the greenrider doesn't fall head over heels.

Raliah absently pats the runner's shoulder, grinning. "Brisk out here, isn't it, fella?" She chuckles and moves along quickly with the young man and runner. When they stop, she's quick to smile and nod, sticking a foot in one stirrup and swinging up with the ease that most dragonriders gain. Once in the saddle she frowns thoughtfully, wriggling until she's comfortable and smiling. "Well, this is easier than I remember it being." The girl laughs. "I guess a couple turns of riding a dragon'll do that for you." She considers his offer for a moment, turning it over and over in her head with a suspicious glance. Eventually she nods. "I suppose you're right, he probably should get used to me before I do anything more, huh?" The greenrider agrees with a little frown. "Lead away!" A smile. "How long have you been riding?"

Hallam seems at least marginally impressed with the ease she has in mounting, but of course she would. When she shifts, shifts, settles and doesn't fall off - which is a lot better than some people, truth be told. He snorts, amused, before he turns. The gelding follows obediantly, if only to warm up in his own right. Hallam's quiet for a long time, and they've made almost half of a very large circle before he responds, "Since before I can remember. Distant Cry has - had -" he catches for a second, frowning; his continuation doesn't include another correction of the verb; everything's too up in the air for him to decide, "the only runner most of the time."

Raliah moves easily with the runner, though it's possible that she overreacts a bit to the gentler, relatively speaking, movements of a runner. She settles in eventually with a happy smile. The rider doesn't seem the silence, it gives her time to lean over to scritch behind one of the gelding's ears, smiling happily. The brief confusion in the young man's voice is met with a wince from Raliah, though she seems relieved that he doesn't see it. "Ah," The girl nods. "That makes sense." She's smiling happily once more, keeping careful contact with the runner; not too firm, not bouncing around, and certainly not giving him any cues. "You're really good with them, you know. I guess it could come with practice, but," She doesn't really sound like she believes that. "I dunno. I hope you can knock some sense into the other 'hands." Here she sighs: as if.

"They're easy to understand," Hallam says. "Easier than anyone gives them credit for, at least." He shrugs, bringing the runner to a halt again and facing Raliah. "Maybe. Some people are under the impression it might be a good idea for some of us to try and stay on at the weyr wherever we'll be had. Kitchens, stables, scribes. Everyone's a bit nervous." Not Hallam, though. It's clear the entire matter is distasteful, but for the most part doesn't particularly bother the stablehand to any worthwhile degree. Not much does. He eyes her critically. Then, mildly, he steps forward and loops the reins over the gelding's neck, within her reach. "Your turn. Don't fall. I won't be diving to catch you." He steps away, hands shoving back into the warmth of his pockets again, giving runner and rider freedom to move.

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth is not far off, is never far off, her voice caught in vague amusement. << Raliah, you crawl along the ground on that little thing. Bring that boy and ride with me! I'll show him that riding a dragon is /nothing/ compared to one of those! >>

Annoyance flashes faintly. >> Beryth, you're jealous. << It's an accusation wrapped in vague irritation.

<> There's a pause. << He could be much more than a leader of silly greenriders on runners, you know. >>

>> You've said as much. How am I supposed to tell him that, you great lump? He's got no desire to be a rider, Beryth. <<

<< You can do anything you set your mind to, Raliah. >> Then she's quiet.

Raliah nod slowly. "They're very nice." The girl agrees quietly, patting the neck of her runner with a little grin. "Aren't you, big guy? Bet your legs are itching to have a bit of a run." Her tone is woeful -- mock-woeful, perhaps? Perhaps not, as she seems perfectly content to walk...for now. "The Weyr's a good place to be." Of course a Weyrbred would say so! "I've never lived in a hold though, so I guess I can't really judge." She shrugs slim shoulders, frowning faintly. But then he's giving her the reins, and the girl's eyes light up, followed by a bright grin. "I won't fall." She assures the lad with a wink, before frowning, as if recalling memory. A light tap with her heels, just the right amount of pressure, and the gelding is off at a trot into the darkness. Raliah keeps him in a straight line for some time before looping back around, bouncing with the tall grey gelding's stride with a happy grin plastered onto her face. When she's made a big circle, after some time going at a trot, she clicks lightly with a little bit of urging with her feet. With a mischievous glance back at Hallam, the girl and runner set off in another circle at a canter, while lamplike eyes watch in the distance. Since the runner seems to enjoy it, Raliah lets him stretch his legs a little, leaning over a little bit and holding lightly to the reins. Hey -- there's not very far to fall from the back of a horse! And grass is nice and springy. It takes some time before she reels the gelding into a trot, taking him in circles about a dragonlength around the stablehand. "He's a dream!" The girl exclaims with a happy laugh.

"And I've never lived in a weyr," Hallam counters drily, content to drop the subject as soon as he's able in favor of his regular sarcasm. "You dragonriders," he says, not deigning to raise his voice and so speaking only when she passes close enough, volume carefully regulated. "Forget how easy it is to enjoy yourselves without clouds and wings." It's a variation of the comment he gave her when they first met, but he nevertheless seems content to step further back once he's spoken and settle onto the grass - which, truth be told, is less springy and more slightly frozen from the recent rains and sudden cold. He doubles over slightly, resting his chest against his knees, hands never leaving his pockets as he watches her go round and round. "He's got a sure step," Hallam notes, squinting into the darkness. "He's a good runner."

As soon as she catches her breath, Raliah remembers to reply, "And you don't know how much fun wings and clouds can be." with a lifted eyebrow for Hallam. "Of course, it's probably easier to forgive you." He gets a grin as she slows the runner to a trot. So what if the grass isn't so much springy -- in her mind it sure is! But, of course, our girl Raliah likes to think the best of things from time to time. "Never puts a foot wrong, I bet." The girl agrees happily. She slows the runner down a bit further, and he doesn't seem too put out -- it *is* cold out here. The girl's quiet for a few moments, as if contemplating something as she sends the gelding in ever smaller circles. When he finally stops before Hallam, Raliah dismounts but still holds the reins, apparently not thinking to hand them back. "Okay." She seems to have made up her mind. "I'll rub him down -- you can help if you want -- " Ohoho. "And then I want you to come with me. Please?"

Hallam stands as she dismounts, and he doesn't move once he's up. He's contemplating her very seriously, as though she might be a new species, something that has yet to be identified by anyone. He doesn't open his mouth to object to her announcement that she'll take care of the runner - though a part of him seems to want to if the flexion of his jaw is indication. It's not that nobody else can do it - it's just that nobody else can do it *right*. "I'll help. It'll get done quicker." And then, almost an afterthought, "We'll see. Depends on where you plan on going." And he's off for the stables once more, if only for the semblance of warmth they offer, with no objections to her holding the reins.

Raliah is a stalwart girl, and withstands the contemplation without batting an eyelash. "Alright." She says with a happy smile after a moment. "You're right." Is added, as if it might help. See, she's tactful, really! If you tell somebody they're right it's always very nice. All but bouncing, the girl follows the stablehand happily. She doesn't look precisely happy to take 'maybe' as an answer, but he's already moving, so there's nothing for it. The greenrider follows, leading her trusty steed with the occasional pat for him into the vaguely warmer climes of the stable.

Raliah heads into the stable.
Stable Early Winter. Clear. 21F / -6C.

 Under a stone eave along the southern wall of the bowl, the stables are small and cramped. The smells of hay and animal sweat and dung hang heavily in the narrow space. Though there is room for a dozen, the Weyr only boasts eight runners presently - one nag, three mares, one stud and two geldings. The tack-room, near the first of the stalls, boasts several sets of tack hanging on hooks and saddles hung neatly on the wall beside each set. The only way in or out is through wide, double-doors that open on to the feeding grounds.

-- Players --
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
-- Exits --
 Feeding Grounds..........[N]

Hallam comes in from the feeding grounds.
Hallam has arrived.

Hallam's fairly quick once they reenter the stables - he holds the door for both of them, pushes it closed once they're in. "Saddle," he directs as he steps back into the tack stable, ducking down and disappearing entirely. Soon he's located a pair of brushes, a towel and a blanket, all of which are juggled expertly towards the gelding's stall. Once there, he passes her one of the brushes, sticking the other in a pocket while he rubs the towel firmly over the gray hair. It's all in complete silence until: "Where do you think I'm supposed to be following you?"

Raliah follows her orders like a good girl, leading the gelding back to his stall and waiting for Hallam until he returns. She takes a brush and follows his towelling with the brush, brushing briskly and firmly. She does linger a bit on his face, gently brushing around his eyes while smiling happily at the runner. "It's much different than a dragon." She notes at one point. "I think I like brushing more than oiling." Her eyes go distant for a moment, then they're rolled. She's quiet for some time, briskly brushing away at the gelding and smiling happily to herself. "It," She frowns, pausing a moment. "It's Beryth's idea, really. She'd -- we'd -- like to take you up for a minute. I want you to see how fun it /is/. You /can/ have fun while not on the ground." The girl says stubbornly, but her expression is more along the lines of hopeful, sweet little girl as she turns to smile at Hallam. "We won't keep you long, promise."

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth's voice is caught between amusement and annoyance. << You'll pay for that, Raliah. >>

>> What're you going to do, itch at me? <<

<< Hmph. >>

"It's at least cleaner," Hallam points out. He's neve oiled a dragon, if general impressions are any indication, but without a doubt he's seen it in his stay at the weyr, and it's not the most appealing of chores. He pulls his own brush and moves around the gelding, alternating brushing and massaging the creature's back at a quick pace. His jaw hardens a bit at her announcement, and though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled with the prospect, he only grunts. "Fine. But I wasn't raised to keep my head in the clouds."

Raliah laughs, nodding with a nosewrinkle. "By far." She agrees. "I dunno if I like the scent of runners or dragons better. Have you ever noticed that dragons smell nice?" The girl's expression is caught with happiness as she brushes away, bending down to get his forelegs, though her expression is only confused when she attempts to make sure he's not injured. Waving that off, she straightens again. "None of us are." The young greenrider assures Hallam with a smile, quiet as she continues to brush the runner's grey coat.
.
"Hngh," Hallam grunts, watching her carefully. When her attempt to assess his legs doesn't meet his standards, the boy hitches a pantleg and does it himself, going so far as to check each hoof for rocks. Satisfied, he stands and finds the blanket, draping it over the gelding's back with an affectionate pat on the shoulder and a low, "Good fella." And he gathers the things they brought back in and have taken off, putting them away. "Come on then, greenrider. You don't have much time before I change my mind."

Raliah takes a step back with a happy smile when they finish, watching the runner with admiration. "Goodnight, big guy." She says softly, reaching in to pat the content runner's nose. "I'll see you soon, maybe." There's hope in her voice as she grins at Hallam. "You'll have fun." Said greenrider assures the stablehand, before glancing up. A rush of wings outside is apparent over the wind, and the girl smiles happily. "That's Beryth. She's all strapped up and ready to go. It's nice and windy. We won't be able to stay up for long, it's too sharding cold, but I promise it'll be fun." And hopefully, by fun she doesn't mean nausea-inducing! With a vague gesture 'follow me', the girl turns heel and trots out of the stables.

Raliah heads out of the stable.
Feeding Grounds Early Winter. Clear. 21F / -6C.

 Two acres of fenced land marks the feeding grounds, with a small stable under a stone eave along the southern wall. The ground here is harder than the rest of the bowl, covered by grass kept short by the Weyr's small herd. The fenceline is in good repair, kept up by the Weyr's handymen to keep the herd contained. Two scraggly trees near the waterline provide shade for any animals here. The feeding troughs are near the southern wall, not far from the patio-like overhang of stone that serves as a ceiling for the stable.

-- Players --
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
-- Exits --
 Bowl.....................[N] Stable...................[S]

Hallam comes out of the stable.
Hallam has arrived.
Beryth is indeed waiting, her eyes gleaming faintly in the windy night. It might only be time for most residents of the Weyr to sit down for a good game of dragonpoker, but it's still late, and cold, and not many other people are out and about.

"I'll teach you how to tack him alone," Hallam says. "Then you can come whenever you want, even when I'm gone." Well. There's his opinion of staying on at the weyr, as indifferent as it sounds. This time, when the winter air hits, Hallam grimaces in response. It hasn't gotten much colder - if at all - since they went back inside, and therefore it must simply be the mention of how cold it is that has him pulling such unpleasant faces. And that, too, must be what has him eyeing Beryth warily, making no move towards her. "Your idea, hmm? You better be a smooth ride," he warns.

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth projects, << Inform him that my flight is /never/ anything but smooth, thank you. >>

Raliah's grinning happily when she bounds into the night air, quickly going to Beryth's head to scratch her winged steed's chin affectionately. "I'd be very grateful." She replies with some humility. "When you're gone?" A little frown, and a shrug. What can she do? Beryth peers primly down at the holder lad, fanning her wings and snorting. That's what she thinks of /that/. Raliah laughs. "She'd like you to know that her ride is always smooth. She lies though." A sly grin for the dragon as her girl, with a little assistance, springs lightly stride. She straps herself in, then leans down to offer a hand to Hallam. "But I'll make sure that she doesn't pull any stunts, promise."

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth projects, <>

"Yes, well, I've met a few liars in my life," Hallam says in response to the snort. He still fails to move immediately, and when he does it's in easy, confident strides to take Raliah's hand and allow her to assist him onto Beryth's back. "Stunts," he echoes in a monotone. "Wonderful. I hope you know that if I get ill it will be on your back." That's said easily, somewhat jokingly even - as though the prospect of him losing his stomach over anything is ridiculous even to him.

Raliah's eyes are bright as she winks back at Hallam. "My back. Gotcha." She laughs, setting up his straps properly and double-checking both of theirs. When she's done, she turns and smacks Beryth lightly on the neck. The dragon glances back at them, eyes whirring somewhere between green and blue, occasionally flecked with more annoyed shades at her rider's pertness. In the next instant, though, she crouches and lunges upwards, backwinging strongly. She might not be a large dragon, but she's large for a green, and might show off *just* a little in the ease with which she gets airborne. With the cold night air lacking notably in thermals, she instead decides to ride one of the winds that rushes through the bowl then swiftly up the other side, rising quickly with it. There's nothing for it after the wind dissipates a bit but to wing upwards powerfully for some time. Raliah takes the swooping motion in stride, but does look a little relieved when the green goes up as far as she will and starts to glide. The Weyr is tiny below, clearly evident in the light of Timor and Belior. Raliah coughs. "It's a little rough to get up here," She says loudly over the wind. "But isn't it pretty?"

Hallam is okay with the mounting and the strapping and even the immediate feeling of his stomach dropping when Beryth leaps into the air, but he's not a huge fan of the wind whipping at him, or the chill or the fact that to remain in place on something so unfamiliar he's rather forced to hang on to Raliah. But when they're up, and there's nothing but still, freezing air and the ground below him, his eyes become fascinated, and were it not for the straps he might lean over and fall clear off the green. Then, contradictory to everything, he's just displayed, the holder straightens enough and says, slowly, "It's not bad." And by now anyone should be able to read through it to the real meaning - which is that Hallam can certainly find a place in his mind to appreciate this as much as he does a runner, even if he has to find a different level.

Beryth's flight is even and smooth as she makes wide, only vaguely downward circles. She's clearly showing off, but Raliah doesn't seem to mind, sitting calmly in the straps and peering down at the Weyr happily. She turns to guage Hallam's reaction, and turns back to peer ahead to hide the broad, triumphant grin at his slow words. The greenrider doesn't speak for a moment -- might cackle or do a dance if she does -- but when she does her voice is even and smooth, if cheerful all the same. "No, it's not." She agrees pleasantly, peering down at the Weyr that's slowly getting closer. The wind picks up a bit as they get closer to the ground, but Beryth navigates it expertly, circling around so that she can ride the stiff breeze in and land neatly in the center of the bowl. It wasn't a long flight, but she did promise to keep it that way! Raliah's quiet, contemplative, as she unstraps herself, sliding down Beryth's side before holding a hand up to Hallam if he needs help down. "The reason," She clears her throat, rubbing her hands together and peering keenly at the stablehand. "That Beryth wanted me to show you that," She leaves herself out of it -- her own reasons were pretty much a simple 'Raliah's always right'. "Is because she thinks that you'd be...you'd be good at it on a more permanent basis." The greenrider lifts her chin, smiles. "I agree with her. You're better with runners than anybody I've seen. You -- you might not get what I'm saying, but I think that the bond that you get with a dragons is even better than what you have with a Runner." It might not be the most tactful way of putting it, but the young greenrider appears to be trying hard not to make a fool of herself. "They're really nice, runners. But if you were to Impress," Here her grin is broad. "You'd see what I meant. And the Weyr could use more riders like you, Hallam. Really." This is said quieter, as if somebody might overhear her, and a quick, scowlish glance is tossed around. "Will you think about it?"

Hallam is very careful with his reaction as the weyr gets closer - and by the time they've landed and Raliah is finished with her explanation, the boy has successfully reassumed the incredulous and somehow flat expression he usually wears. "Think. I suppose I can do that," he agrees.

[DTU] To Raliah, Beryth's voice is smug. She knows she's good. <> She murmurs, the laughing sound of water over stones trickling into her voice.

>> Oh, you silly Wherry. I knew he'd see. <<

<>

Raliah nods, with a bright smile for Hallam. “Thank you.” She says, glancing up at Beryth. “I’ll leave you to your thinking, then, Hallam. Thank you for being patient with me with the runners.” A somewhat mischievous grin, before she’s swinging back into Beryth’s straps. “I’d better get to sleep, I’ve promised her a flight at dawn to make up for spending time riding something other than her.” The girl rolls her eyes, then waves with a smile. “Goodnight.” Beryth moves away politely before springing lightly into the air, giving Raliah a /much/ less smooth ride back to their weyr – but from the laughs that go behind them, it seems she doesn’t mind.

What they don't know won't hurt 'em!

2008-09-09T19:41:26Z

Living Cavern(#25RHIJM4) Late Autumn. Cloudy. 24F / -4C.

 Huge, still mostly the natural shape of the bubble cavern that formed it though embellished with intricate columns, the living cavern is large enough to seat over two thousand people at any given time. Gleamingly clean, the space is clearly well-kept by the hard work of the lower caverns staff. High in the eastern walls, narrow windows allow slants of light to dapple the room during the day, a plethora of glowbaskets in well-spaced niches around the cavern provide a warm, ambient glow after sunset. Many long tables are placed around the room, providing plentiful seating, some boasting chairs around them, others sturdy benches that seat ten at a time. The walls are decorated with a set of simple color-block tapestries and one that's more ornate, recently restored, depicting the settling of Benden during Torene's time. The cavern has a welcoming, homey feel to it in spite of its size.
 The exits from here are pretty clear-cut: A set of handsomely carved stone steps lead up to the balcony-style kitchen that wraps around the cavern; a tunnel on the eastern wall slopes upward just slightly on its way out to the bowl; the southern tunnel slopes downward steadily as it dips into the Weyr's inner caverns.

-- Players --
Felisa.........Brown eyes, sunstreaked brown hair, 5'7", rounded build.
Katelin........Tall, sharp-edged, and freckled, with a ponytail and intense grey-green eyes.
Raliah.........Roughly 5'7, lean, muscular for a girl. Amber eyes, proud carriage, short black hair.
-- Exits --
 Kitchen..................[N] Bowl.....................[E]
 Inner Caverns............[S]

It's about noon on a blustery winter day. Felisa is not looking like a gardener; in fact, she seems to be posing as a kitchen worker, complete with apron and water-splashed clothing. Currently she's refilling the klah pots and checking the levels of the various lunch foods.

Katelin has an apron and a bucket and a sponge, and she's methodically wiping down the tables. She comes to one that has a soup spill and numerous bits of food scattered over the table. Someone even left their dishes behind. She puts the bucket down beside the table with an impatient sigh and looks over at Felisa.

Raliah does not seem to notice the cold in her everyday winter-clothing, without even a coat, but she's been living at Benden for several turns now. And her cheeks are rosy, likely a sign that she's been out in said cold for a good long time. She does not, however, look incredibly tired, or even dirty. "Felisa!" Her lips curl into a rueful grin. "Candidate duties?" She approaches her friend with a sympathetic shake of her head. The other girl is grinned at. "You've got the look too. Awww."

Felisa says, "Not so much candidate as winter duties. No playing in the garden for me until spring." She glances over at the table and winces. "Looks like L'ten has been here."

"I was going to say," Katelin says irritably, "who does that? We certainly don't at the hold - not beyond the age of /six/." She dunks the sponge, wrings it out, and starts scrubbing. "It's not that I mind cleaning tables, but /really/." She glances at Raliah and gives her a nod of acknowledgment.

Raliah wrinkles her nose ruefully. "Aww." She giggles, before scowling fiercely at the table. "That sharding L'ten needs to get a lesson in manners." The girl growls. "If he keeps leaving his dishes at the table, I'll be tempted to have them put in his weyr. On his bed. Upside down." This is a fierce whisper, meant only for the other two girls, but she's muttering darkly to herself for a moment. "Oh," After a moment she grins sheepishly at Katelin. "I'm Raliah."

Scrub, scrub, scrub. Katelin dunks her sponge again and goes on working at the table's surface. "Katelin," she introduces herself. "Are you a candidate, too?"

Felisa giggles. "Nope. She rides green Beryth." She returns to the kitchens with the empty urns and then is back again with a new tray of lunch meats.

Raliah's smile is wide. "Well met, Katelin." Felisa gets a raised eyebrow and a grin. "Yes. I remember being a candidate though. It wasn't much for our group, though." The girl chuckles, glancing around. "Need help? I bet they'd probably be right annoyed if I took the time to help out down here." The girl snickers.

Katelin finishes wiping the table and straightens up, the sponge dangling from her hand as she stares at Raliah, as if expecting her to sprout another head. "Uh," she says after a long pause. "No. Thanks." She picks up the bucket and hightails it over to the next table.

Felisa's expression at Katelin's reaction is not very much surprised and not too much amused. She fusses with the trays for a few minutes, putting the few pieces from the old tray onto the new one and again vanishes into the kitchens, not saying anything for now.

Raliah knows the look, and rolls her eyes ruefully as Felisa vanishes into the kitchens. "If you say so." The girl chuckles, following Katelin doggedly. She stands quietly with her hands behind her back for a moment, before tilting her head. "Where are you from?" The girl asks curiously.

Wendra comes in from the bowl.
Wendra has arrived.

Katelin scrub scrub scrub... and stops. She glances behind her. Yup, it's the greenrider. She sighs a bit and answers, "From Bitra," though she doesn't turn around or stop scrubbing.

Wendra arrives, her face red and wind-blown and her hair half-dripping, half-iced. She heads directly for the klah, rubbing the sleet out of her eyes, and downs a mugful in one gulp.

Felisa returns from the kitchens, trayless, and announces "Lunch time, Katelin! We get what's left." She also makes a beeline for the klah, though she isn't as greedy about it as Wendra.

Raliah blinks, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "Huh." She laughs at some memory or other, nodding. "Bitra's nice. Do you miss it?" Her gaze is sympathetic, as she watches Wendra get that mug of Klah. Her eyes narrow. "Shells. You guys distracted me." The girl laughs as Felisa reappears, and grabs a mug when the candidate is finished. Having warmed up a bit, the girl only uses it to warm her hands and sip at. "Heyla, Wendra. Having a good day?"

"Oh!" Katelin brightens up. "Lunch. It's nice," she says absently to Raliah. "Excuse me. I've got to go put this bucket away so that I can eat!" She scurries off and disappears briefly into the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later without bucket or sponge, but with a steaming hot plate of food.

Wendra says, "I will be once this klah sets in." Then, she adds needlessly "Sleeting out there. Not fit for man or beast."

Felisa gets herself food from the trays, which are beginning to get a little bare. Luckily, the Weyrhall is emptying out apace. The candidate heads over to the Bitran and asks "Mind some company?"

"Sure," Katelin agrees. "Let's sit over there." She points to an empty table all the way across the cavern. No female greenriders there!

Raliah hangs back from Felisa and Wendra, waving a hand cheerily. "Stay here a second," She murmurs to Wendra. "I'll go get some food." There's a grin as she turns and strides swiftly into the kitchen.

Wendra smiles gratefully at Raliah. "You're in a rare mood today. What's up? Other than Lyndee being tapped?"

Felisa follows Katelin dutifully, snagging some pastries on the way. "So, speaking of Bitra, you said you were a card dealer there. What's that like?"

Raliah emerges with a tray containing two plates and a couple mugs of fruit juice. "Light duties," The girl chuckles. "Beryth managed to hurt one of her paws, so we're taking it easy for a few days. I spent at least an hour soaking earlier in the baths." This gets a wicked grin, as she slowly starts after the candidates.

Katelin sets her plate down and nudges a chair out for Felisa, too, since she has her hands full. "Actually, I usually worked the roulette table," she says as she seats herself. "But every now and then I'd fill in on cards. It was - interesting. I mean, it's not the same as playing for fun." She laughs. "But I liked it. The game room boss gave good bonuses as long as our payouts weren't too big."
Wendra ohs sympathetically. "I hope she's well soon. Will you be flying the next fall?" She follows Raliah (or the food tray) dutifully over toward Felisa and Katelin.

Felisa says, "How did you keep payouts from being too high, though? I mean, it seems like if a lot of people are there, someone will win."

"Well, with roulette it's easy," Katelin says. "If someone wins, you keep them playing. If people play long enough they'll eventually lose what they brought to the table. If they win, they just got lucky. But most people will figure they can win even bigger, so they'll keep on until they're back down to nothing - or at least until they've lost most of the payout."

Raliah nods quickly. "Oh, yes. It's just a little sore -- we just don't want her to comprimise her other paws and land on them wrong trying not to land on the injured one." The girl says quickly, with a flashed grin. "I wouldn't let us be held out of Fall for something like a paw injury." She flops down into a seat near the candidates, tilting her head at their conversation but appearing far more interested in the food as she slides some down for Wendra.

Wendra looks startled. "Your Wingleader would let you fight thread while Beryth is injured? The way they make us sit out if our dragons even look like they might sneeze, I figured it would be the same in wings."

[DTU] To Me, Beryth's voice is faintly admonishing. << Raliah, you know better. >> There's a pause. <>

Felisa ahs. "That makes sense. I always wondered how people make money gambling -- if I won I'd take my marks and run."

Katelin nods to Felisa. "Yes, that's the smart way. In roulette, at least. So, you said you're a gardener normally?" she asks, changing the subject.

Raliah's grin is shifty. "What they don't know won't hurt 'em." She mutters softly, glancing up and around with all of the grace of a wher. "It's just a paw injury. She'll be fine by then." The girl's hand goes flap-flap and she narrows her eyes at something. "Fine, fine Beryth. You could ask sometimes." She grumbles, wolfing down her food. "I'll see you guys later." She stands and takes her dishes in before trotting outside and to an itchy Beryth.

Wendra grins at the mutter and waves as Raliah leaves, then turns her attention to the candidates.

Vignette

2008-08-26T06:49:15Z

<< You're up early. >>

Yes. It's a nice day to wake up early.

Stretching, yawning, Raliah tossed aside the quilt and furs she'd pulled over herself in the night. Quickly she stuffed her feet into a soft pair of leather shoes she usually used while indoors in the winter, pulling the quilt about herself as she moved quietly into Beryth's wallow. The Dragon yawned widely, opening one eye, bright in the pre-dawn dim of their weyr. Clearly amused, she nudged the girl's stomach and rumbled pleasantly, eyes shimmering into a slow whirl of green and blue.

<>

The Dragon murmured, voice sparkling through the girl's mind with clear amusement. "Broken me, you have." She muttered. "I'll be going to sleep early soon enough." Snickering softly, the girl moved out onto her ledge, smiling faintly -- it wasn't too cold yet, but wasn't warm, and a stiff breeze blew. There were no clouds yet, but the air was heavy with the promise of rain. Sniffing delicately, the girl closed her eyes and leaned contentedly on Beryth, who'd followed her closely.

<< We can see the sun set nicely, but I fear the view of it rising isn't so good. Put some clothes on, Raliah. You'll catch your death. >>

Rolling her eyes, tossing her hair with a huff and laugh, the girl strolled back into her weyr with a little grin. It wasn't the biggest Weyr out there, but what other girl her age that she knew had their own space like this? It made up, a little, for the obnoxious whiny men who she had to deal with all day. But 'liah was learning to deal with them, learning to smile and nod, or ignore them -- which particularly infuriated the wrinkly old ones -- and it brought peace upon her days that even regular threadfall couldn't disrupt.

Neatly tossing the blanket onto the bed and arranging the furs, she went to her wardrobe and tossed off her night-clothes, quickly tugging on her usual uniform. With a smirk, she ran a comb through her hair which really didn't need it, reminding herself yet again how much simpler it was to go without much in the way of hair. If you didn't have to spend hours combing, breakfast came incredibly quickly!

It took a little longer to get Beryth strapped up, with the firm reminder that her lifemate needed to be oiled later in the day, but very soon she had vaulted herself astride her great winged steed and said steed was taking a leap from their ledge. Since they were nearly to the top of the Weyr, and it was good to occasionally satisft Raliah's taste for adventure or she'd explode or do something stupid, from time to time Beryth took the risk -- plus, falling was a lot easier than backwinging, and she needed some serious sun before she'd be entirely happy.

"Thank you, dearest. I'll be out in a few. Go find somewhere to sun, or they'll roast us in drills." Snickering softly, she smacked the green on the shoulder and started into the living cavern at a trot. She found that she still ate like a man, even though she wasn't a Weyrling any more; thankfully, she had much work to do in a day, and eating well hadn't caused problems yet! So she gathered a plate with a fair amount of food, just as much as her male wingmates were eating; but she wouldn't sit with them.

No, as far as she was concerned, few deserved her company. There were a few of them who were worth being friends with, but to sit near them would be to earn them the annoyance of the other male riders; and really, before noon, she wasn't the most patient person ever. So she went over to an area populated by few, flopped down and began stuffing her face most girlishly -- lies! --, ignoring all others around her rather soundly.

Well, until her dratted Father came to talk to her. Somber and solemn as always, the brownrider nodded to his daughter, setting down with his half-finished breakfast and waiting for her muttered "Good morning." before he began speaking. "Good morning, Raliah. I trust you're well?" When she grunted the grunt that usually meant 'fine', he smiled faintly. "Your mother is coming to visit soon."

"What?" She squeaked, careful not to scream. Her eyes widened. "She doesn't want to see me, does she?" Perhaps it wasn't the most normal reaction to the comment, but she probably didn't notice. R'bori lifted an eyebrow. "How should I know?" He asked with a snort. "She just asked me if she could come to visit Benden next time I went to see Lhorea. I'll probably bring her along. And I think that Rhodren would fit nicely as a stable boy here -- your mother says he's getting into a bit of trouble with the boys there. May see if we can't transfer him here."

The pleasant news-bringing was a tradition that R'bori had started soon after Raliah had become a rider; she was too busy to be able to focus much on her family. The brownrider did not approve of his daughter riding a dragon -- well, other than a gold -- in the least bit, but he was resigned to the idea by now, as she'd shown that she was capable. He even allowed himself to be proud from time to time, though he'd probably never share that little tidbit. "Well, I have sweeps. Pay attention in drills, Raliah."

With that, the tall man stood, nodded, and strode off at a brisk pace. Raliah sat and stared at her food, horrified. If her father dissaproved of her riding, her mother was militantly against it. Though it was completely foolish, she routinely asked if Raliah could get rid of the dragon and do something proper. Her reaction to her girl's impression had been to scream and pass out. Lhorea was a promising girl, much more girly that Raliah, but she was the only little sister she had. And it was no wonder that Rhodren was having trouble; he was a good-for-nothing layabout who like to belittle others.

Grumbling to herself, the girl finished her breakfast at a quick pace, scowling fiercely enough to scare off pretty much everybody who might have considered sitting near her. When finished, she put up her dishes and stomped out of the Living Cavern muttering to herself. Beryth was waiting, as always, wearing a serene expression. She didn't need to speak, and neither did Raliah. The girl just pulled herself aboard and strapped herself in with a sigh. Well, at least she would be able to think of drills instead of her mother.

<< You really must pay close attention. I have been a little slow on my wingovers lately. I think my wings are getting longer. I suppose growing is a good thing, but I'd rather be done with it... >>

Clearly, Beryth was just trying to help. Honest.

In which Raliah talks with Z'dyr about their Dragonets

2007-10-24T12:55:07Z

Involved: Raliah, Z'dyr, Beryth, Kayvoth
Setting: Weyrling Barracks, ~6:30am on day 2, month 12, turn 375
What Transpired: Raliah and Z'dyr are up before most Weyrlings, and have a talk about their dragons.

Weyrling Barracks(#166RAJ) Late Autumn. Partly Cloudy. 18F / -8C.

Large and spacious, the barracks were originally three large caverns that are now connected. From the entrance, the first cavern is the largest, completely empty aside from scraps of litter left to collect along the base of the wall and the remains of what look like a campfire in the middle of the room - explaining the soot-blackness on the ceiling. To the left, a smaller "storage" area is similarly empty.
The only way in or out is through one of the two large openings from the bowl.

The sun is not yet risen and it's /cold/, as Benden usually is this early on an Autumn morning. In the barracks, most of the weyrlings are still asleep following the emotional overload of the Hatching the day before. One of those awake is Z'dyr, though Kayvoth is still sleeping if the deep, rumbling snores are anything to go by. The man is sat on the edge of his cot staring down at the dragon in rapture, chin resting in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Raliah has been up for a while, Beryth's doing of course. She has been rubbing oil into the soft hide of her green for some time, now, though at this point it's really not needed -- not that Beryth minds any. But the task seems to be the only one 'liah's fit for, staring with wide eyes at the dragonet, who was still quite real when she woke up. Finally, when she reaches the tip of a forest-green snout for the third time, she's nudged firmly, a small wing extended to gently remind her of that fact. The girl looks sheepish, then glances around, sighing softly. "Shells." She murmurs, grinning wonderingly at a nearby Z'dyr, but seems almost incapable of saying more. Beryth, though, looks quite like she'd like to wake the other dragonets up, peering around with faintly yellow-impatient eyes.

Z'dyr touches Kayvoth's shoulder softly, letting his fingers run down the bronze's leg before lifting the hand away. The dragon doesn't even stir. Shaking his head, smiling, it's then that the weyrling seems to become aware that, hey, other people are awake. Including Raliah. Looking away from his weyrmate at last - he's only spent an hour just staring at him, oblivious, after all - Zad smiles at Raliah, looking at Beryth briefly. "Seems unreal, doesn't it?" He comments quietly. "Everything."

Raliah snickers quietly at something, rolling her eyes. "I know, Beryth." She murmurs, reaching up to gently scritch the green's chin. Zad gets another grin, and a fervent nod. "Completely." She answers, a little wide-eyed. "They're --" She pauses, apparently seeking inspiration in Beryth, as she stares at her for a long moment. "Amazing." Is all the girl can finally come up with, looking a little like a wide-eyed prey animal before a diving dragon. "We're the luckiest people ever."

A brief look of confusion flickers across Z'dyr's face at Raliah's snicker, but after he's glanced at Beryth realisation strikes and he relaxes. He's already pretty relaxed, though, so this just involves lowering his arms so that he's not supporting his head any more. "Definitely," he agrees fervently, grinning lovingly down at his dragon, asleep on the stone couch. "We are. Now I see why riders are so devoted to their dragons." With a soft sigh, he strokes under Kayvoth's chin. "I feel bad for the people who didn't Impress, though."

Beryth carefully repositions herself, sprawling on her side with a contented sigh. She's still for the moment, as Raliah absently scratches on a spot on the dragonet's chest, watching the pretty green closely. "Oh, yes." There's a gulp here, and a shake of her short-haired head, amber eyes wide. "I don't -- I was /happy/ to leave! I knew Esse'd Impress...but I was happy to go back...how could I've been /happy/?" Beryth offers a little rumble, a soft warble, and the girl seems to relax a little. "Shells...I hope they do one day, though. Maybe they will, right?"

A deep, flemmy-sounding snore comes from Kayvoth, and the bronze rolls over onto his other side, letting out a deep sigh and then continuing to sleep. Zad rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smile that lights up his face. "Hey," he turns his gaze back onto Raliah, worry twitching at the corner of his lips. "It's not your fault. Everything changes when you Impress. I know it did for me." He glances back down at Kayvoth. "How could I even think about going to the Hall?" Personal thoughts aside, he addresses Raliah again. "Everything's right, yeah? This is what was supposed to happen to us." He nods, finally, to the non-Impressees comment. "Maybe. Not everyone does." The haunted look on Z'dyr's face suggests that he once thought that would be in that group.

Beryth lifts her head enough to favor Kayvoth with an exasperated snort, a soft, amused rumble bubbling in her throat. Raliah titters a little, then shakes her head. "No, Beryth, you most certainly do not snore." The girl answers stoutly -- even though the greenlet had sounded quite unladylike most of the night. But the girl's face turns more solemn in a moment, and she offers a wide-eyed nod. "No kidding. Shells, I..." But, then words fail and she sighs, gently manipulating one of the green's smallish wings, peering at it curiously. "It was." She agrees, then winces. "I don't think that there are going to be many that think it was supposed to happen to me, though. Do you think they'd noticed if Beryth and I stayed in here until we graduated?" There's a touch of seriousness in this whimsical question, though it's posed with a little grin. "Wel -- if they don't --" There's a thoughtful pause. "I would have never known what I was missing. They won't either, maybe."

Z'dyr eyes Beryth, looks at Kayvoth, and puts two and two together when Raliah speaks. "Sorry. I have the feeling he's going to do this every night." Sighing with only a hint of exasperation, the man strokes the dragon's side absently while he watches Raliah, expression very calm. "What?" He laughs a little, though not unkindly. "The dragons choose, as they say. Nobody will um, think bad of you. Would they think that if you Impressed gold?" He glances towards the vague form of Esseira and her dragon. "Huh?" Raliah's next comment also gets a soft chuckle. "No, I suppose they don't. They'll have other chances, anyway."

Raliah giggles, and nods cheerily enough. "Won't bother me. Beryth's already got...a schedule for me. A schedule." The last is exasperated, with an affectionate foot-nudge for Beryth. But then she's wrinkling her nose, snorting softly. "You should have seen when they snuck girls onto the sands. I thought that some of the men were going to have to see healers before their heads exploded." The girl's eyes go wide, but an almost-mischevious grin settles onto her face. "My father might have exploded if I had, but I would have made a terrible Weyrwoman, Junior or not." Nodding happily, she smiles. "Esse was a good choice. I nearly fainted before she impressed though...I thought she was going to /die/." Nod-nod-nod.

"A schedule," Z'dyr echoes, leaning back and propping himself up by planting his hands behind him on the cot. "She sounds determined." A glance at Kayvoth. "I don't think Kayvoth's got a schedule." The dragon snort-snuffles as though he heard that comment. "Hm? Oh, at the last hatching?" He bites back a smile at the memory, nodding in agreement. "Faranth, they were angry fit to burst." He snickers at the memory. "Kesida Stood then, didn't she?" Leaving that train of thought for the moment, he nods at Raliah's observations. "I didn't see it - sounds like a bit of a scary moment, though. But...we've all ended up with the right dragons, right?" Meaning the dragons, of course.

Raliah nods woefully, sighing in a terribly put-upon fashion. "Determined's a word for it." She snickers, "Kayvoth's nice. He's very handsome, for a bronze!" Here, Beryth snorts, standing with dignity to peer over at her clutchsib. Raliah just rolls her eyes at the green, giggling. "They were." She agrees, wincing. "Father, too. Oh! She did, didn't she? But oh, ye--" Suddenly, the girl pales, while Beryth looks on anxiously. Chirping softly, the green nudges her weyrling, looking reluctant. "Oh. Okay." Almost absently mumbling to herself, 'liah stands, and offers Z'dyr a grin that's more a grimace. "Erm -- Father is outside, says he wants to see me. Guess I'll go talk to him, eh?"

Z'dyr smiles at Raliah's sigh, despite himself. "Thanks. Beryth's very...dignified," he grins, nodding at her posture. "Looks like she got her second chance," he comments on the Kesida matter, then looks puzzled at Raliah's distraction. "Oh, right. Sounds like a good idea," he settles on saying, offering a smile. "I'm sure he must be proud of you." Biting his lip, Zad looks down at Kayvoth, tickling at one of the bronze's neckridges, eyes distant.

Raliah manages a smile down at the dragonet, who -- indeed, looks quite dignified. Or is that something else? "She's the best." The girl murmurs, while the dragonet moves ahead of her, marching imperiously. The green glances back expectantly, then keeps moving, 'accidentally' flicking her tail playfully at Kayvoth as she passes. Raliah follows with a grim smile. "Proud. Right. Well. We'll see."

Beryth

2007-10-24T10:26:42Z

Description

As the slopes of darkly forested hills seem almost black in shadow, yet give way to grassy clearings touched by the sun, so the deep pine-green outlines of this hatchling's form yield to a paler tint on her flanks and broad shoulders. With sand and shell-fragments clinging to her moist hide, she seems a creature of earth rather than air, with a series of low peaks extending along the length of her spine, higher and more rugged on her neck, then smoothing along her back and gently winding tail. Headknobs rise tall and fir-like above a wide forehead and the bony outcrops of her eye-ridges, while her muzzle is square. Sturdy wing-bones and strong muscles power verdant wingsails that seem to hold a hint of blue spruce or reflected sky when the light shines through. Talons are earth-brown, strong enough to root her to the ground and sharp enough to rend her prey.

Personality

Beryth chose you, Raliah, because she saw your potential and your capacity for work, and because she could still see something of the child in you. She'll repay your care with a steadfast devotion. In your relationship, she'll switch between mothering you and being childlike herself, but she'll always be your best friend.

Even as a hatchling, she'll be calmer than most, though like all weyrlings she'll pick up on your moods and may over-react to them. As an adult, she'll be unflappable and patient, and will only panic in two situations: if you do, or if you are hurt or ill. At other times, she will maintain her calm to the point of being infuriating, if you're looking for a reaction. She knows what she thinks is right, and once her mind is made up, she's as immovable as bedrock. Unfortunately, her version of reality doesn't always match yours - or that of your Weyrlingmaster or Wingleader. This may cause you difficulties during training, though she'll show no reluctance to work or to learn.

If she disagrees with you, she'll say so, and try to win you to her point of view. She believes in hard work, and you'll hear plenty of reasons why you should squash any tendency to laziness, but she also believes in adequate rest: in her view, late nights and late rising are both to be avoided. She'll want you to turn in early and get up early to get on with the job.

It's not all work, though. She's got a good sense of humour, and can spot ridiculous behaviour in humans or dragons at a hundred paces. A rider who gets unintentionally soaked with his clothes on, or a fellow-weyrling covered in mud, will have her rumbling with amusement. .She's quick to detect discrepancies between what others say and what they do, and if that other is a dragon, she'll tease them about it; if it's a human, she'll just tell you. She enjoys gently sniping at her clutchmate Kayvoth, whom she considers an amiable layabout, but she's quite good-natured about it.

She believes in having fun - but her idea of fun involves good views of attractive landscapes, lying on the beach, swimming - she likes the water - and above all, flying. Her idea of what you should find fun includes all of those, but she'll allow you to enjoy yourself in any way she finds appropriate: you may find her seeming rather parent-like about what is and isn't a good way for you to spend your time.

For all she may appear heavy, she's a powerhouse in the air: once she reaches her full growth she'll have more stamina than most greens and the ability to fly farther and higher than most of her colour. She loves flying over wide open spaces, and you may find yourself encouraged to spend time in the South. Once Thread returns, she won't ever fully understand why greens can't fly a full Threadfall and will protest at being sent back to the Weyr when you're relieved. Even though she'll acknowledge when she's weary enough to need to rest, the next 'Fall, you'll probably have the same argument over again.

She'll hate Thread with a vengeance, from the first moment she's aware of its existence. It's about the only thing she does consistently hate, though anyone who threatens or opposes you won't be far behind for as long as the conflict lasts. She's calculating in her dislikes, though: she can scheme with the best, and wait for opportunity - unless she forgets first! She'll want to improve her skills, the better to fight 'Fall, and that means she wants you to practise, practise, practise - whether you want to or not.

When it comes to mating flights, what she wants to do is fly! And fly. And fly! Forget aerobatics or fancy manoeuvres: until the males close on her, her instincts will tell her to go high and far. After the flight, she'll tend to stay with her partners for a few days, and though she can't clutch, she'll show a nesting urge: she'll be particularly affectionate towards you as a substitute child - it may even get a little cloying - and she'll like to see any young dragons who are in the Weyr at this time.

Most of the time, though, it's you she wants. Don't be fooled by her motherly attitude: you are the one who has to be in charge, and you are the one who knows best. She can and does make mistakes, and even an adult dragon is always going to be dependent on you for guidance - whether she realises it or not. But you're her reason for being, and she'll never willingly let you down.

Impression Messages

The Rugged Forest Green Hatchling is still searching. She stares at one boy for a long moment, and he takes a step towards her before she gives a creel of despair and moves on. Another lad is passed with a sideswipe from razor-sharp talons that, fortunately, fail to damage more than his robe - though he may be a little embarrassed at having the front of his garment ripped from waist to hem. The green's protests become louder as she plods onward. Finally, she stops, muzzle pointing skywards as if listening to some silent call. She turns, and now her path is straight and her direction clear, though her target is right across the Sands. Warbling with joy, she walks steadily towards the one she's chosen - and stops at the feet of a candidate with thick dark hair. A distinctly female candidate.

Can the breezes whisper in your mind? Can the cool of a dark forest touch your skin from head to foot, even on burning Sands? Can the fragrance of sun-warmed mountain pine seep tinge the winter air with aromatic freshness? Impossible sensations, yet there they are - you hear them, feel them, smell them. And then, she is there. A presence, wrapped in peace, that seeps into your mind, spreading calm where there was tension, certainty where there was apprehension, acceptance - everywhere. <> There's a moment of stillness, then the calm is shattered by a sudden, urgent, aching need. << But I'm hungry! >>