Just a small-town girl

Do You Accept?

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 02:46:13 GMT

Who: Brenka, Mattian, Zavroth
Where: White Sands Beach, Southern Weyr
What: Brenka's out washing Zavroth, Mattian shows up to do some swimming. Talking, and a Very Important Question ensues.

---| White Sands Beach |---------------------------| Southern Weyr (#630) |---
Fine sand encircles the shore of the lake with only the occasional palm tree to provide shade and break up the blinding whiteness. The lake sparkles with refracted light, the water dancing from the waterfall's plummet to the river far below. As a result mellow waves lap against the shoreline, a smoothing of the sand's natural formations the only hint of where the tidemark lies. As the day progresses, the grains of sand retain the heat from Rukbat's rays, making the beach difficult to walk upon. It is then that the thick green foliage separating the beach from the meadow's edge becomes a favorite, the shade a welcome change.

As the sun clears the horizon and begins to rise into the sky, its heat begins to warm and thicken the air with moisture. A light breeze stirs the air, bringing some relief, ruffling the surface of the water.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun has finally made an appearance, albeit only shortly. Clouds crowd the sky, but for the moment the sun has a moment to shine, drawing people and dragons alike down to the beach for a bit of fun. Except for Brenka. She's currently crawling around Zavroth's back as the brown lays in the shallows. She's scrubbing, but it seems to be taking more time than usual, the brownrider tossing concerned looks down to the ground. "Just a little more," she assures him, but the reassurance seems to be more for herself than for the bored looking dragon beneath her.

Mattian is among those that have decided to take advantage of the sun. The big man makes his way down to the beach, pausing for just a moment at the crowd and shaking his head in amusement, "Well, no one ever said going for a swim was an original idea..." He chuckles and continues toward the lake, finding a bare spot that no one else has claimed as of yet and spreading his towel out on the sand and quickly stripping down to his scivies to take advantage of the cooling water. He wades in quickly so as not to burn his feet on the sand for too long, pausing to take stock of who is present. A slow grin grows on his face when he spots a familiar rider atop a brown and he makes his way toward them, calling as he approaches, "Hello, up there."

An advantage to having a dragon is that no one tries to bully you from your spot on the beach, or in the lake. An advantage to having a dragon with a bad reputation is that you practically get a whole LOT of space for yourself. Brenka glances cautiously over the side of her dragon at the sound of his voice, and her face briefly breaks out into a wide smile. It doesn't last; she's still casting worried glances towards the ground. "Hello back," she calls, crawling carefully towards Zavroth's neck. "Decided to brave the beach, I see?" She pauses in scrubbing, sitting back on her rear and rubbing a soapy hand across her forehead.

Craining his neck to look up, Mattian grins, "Well sure. Why not, right?" He raises an eyebrow at the worried look, "Hey, would you like a hadn up there?" Apparently he remembers that the brownrider at least /used to/ have a problem with heights. He bravely stands much closer to the brown than most anyone else, though that may be because he isn't aware of the dragon's reputation.

Zavroth's eyes whirl a bit faster, his boredom apparently gone. He turns to stare at Mattian, as if measuring him up. 'Used to' is relative. Brenka glances once towards her 'mate, and then down at Mattian. "That would be wonderful," she says honestly, grateful. "Can you climb up without straps? Zavroth..." but the rest is mental. The brown, though, reluctantly lowers himself a bit and bends a foreleg to help. "Not scared of dragons, are you?" she asks, teasing. Zavroth gets a fond little scratch, though it's more a nervous jerk of her hand than anything soothing.

Dragon >> Zavroth bespoke Brenka with << This is the one? THIS one? /This/ is who you spend so much time thinking about? >> >>

A vaguely nervious expression flashes across Matt's face when the brown looks at him, but he gives himself an almost invisible little shake and eyes the dragon, "I've never done it before, but I'm sure I can manage." Well, maybe... He gives her a cocky smirk and winks, "Nah. Dragon's don't scare me." He chuckles, "'Sides, I'm sure he wouldn't want to do anything to hurt me 'cause it'd upset you." Sounds like he may be trying to convence himself of that more than anything else. He clambers up onto the proffered foreleg and is soon joins the rider, "Thank you, Zavroth." For once, he didn't get a name wrong. Must have been working for a while to remember it.

Brenka's eyebrows lift, and she flashes her dragon a quick glance. "Right..." is all she's going to say about Zavroth not hurting Matt for her benefit. The dragon, it seems, takes this as a personal challenge. He cranes his neck around as tight as it will go and, ever so slightly flashes those sharp-pointy teeth to the assistant. But it doesn't last long, thanks to Brenka's sharp glare. "Sorry," she apologizes, just in case he did catch that. "He's just ornery today." When Matt's close, she'll offer him her hand, though it's not likely to help much. "I'm nearly done," she assures them both. "Sands here," and she points out a small bag perched precariously between the brown's shoulder blades.

Mattian blanches when the brown flashes his teeth at him, his eyes widening slightly, "Uh..." He looks back at the rider, "He is alright with me helping out up here, isn't he?" He takes her hand when it's offered, but doesn't really pull. "Well I'm sure he's ready to be finished so he can go swimming, too." He reaches for the bag of sand and starts scrubbing

"Um. Yes," is Brenka's not-so-reassuring answer. Her eyes go vacant, and she swallows once before shrugging it off. "He'll calm down," she decides. Mattian's hand is squeezed, and hers lingers against his for longer than strictly necessary. "He, actually, doesn't like swimming. Hates the water," she explains sheepishly. "So, you can see how bathes might make him a bit tense." Brenka bites her lip once, shooting a stern look to her lifemate before getting back to scrubbing herself. She takes one deep breath, letting it out slowly. "He's just curious," she admits, though the brown has gone back to a look of relative boredom. "He's seen you in my thoughts, but, well, he can't understand..." and she shrugs again, letting the rest of her sentence die.

Mattian throws the brown a wary glance, "If you say so..." Seems he's not quite as confidant as he wants her to believe. He gives her a crooked smile when she squeezes his hand and gives hers a gentle squeeze back, "Oh." He looks surprised at the revelation about the brown's dislike for water, "Never met a dragon that didn't like to swim..." He gives the dragon a reasuring scratch, "Well, everyone's different." He smirks a little when she reveals that he's curious, "Well, I've really been wanting to meet him, myself." He continues to scrub the brown hide and addresses the dragon, "Well met, Zavroth. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Brenka laughs happily, grinning down at the dragon as she continues to scrub. "He says, and I quote, the pleasure is all his," but she's rolling her eyes about it. She's silent for a moment, just scrubbing, concentrating on the hide of her brown, and the sand in her palm. Now and then, she'll turn little glances towards Mattian, but her expression is conflicted; a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Finally, she gives up scrubbing and sits back down, turning to face Matt fully. "Mattian," she says uncertainly, to gain his attention. She scoots the short distance closer to him, and reaches out a hand for his.

Mattian chuckles at the quote and gives the dragon an almost fond pat as he scrubs, "Seems like it's a pretty big job to wash this big guy..." He seems to have a need to fill the comfortable silence with with smalltalk, though he's focused on the task at hand. The tone of her voice when she says his name makes him turn to look at her, an almost worried expression on his face, "What's wrong?" He quite willingly takes her hand when she reaches for him, giving her a comforting squeeze.

Her fingers curl around his, but it does nothing to change her expression. Her smile is gone, and she gives Mattian a quick, searching gaze before taking a deep breath. Her deliberation is at an end. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, and when she speaks, it's the voice of a dragonrider rather than the woman he might know. "Mattian, Zavroth is unnaturally interested in you. He, well, for lack of a better word, hates people. But not you. And no, it's not because of me. He's never liked anyone for my benefit before. This, well," and she deflates a little as she pulls her hand back. "It's my duty to ask you if you would stand as a Candidate for Merilyth and Zhenoth's clutch. Do you accept?"

Mattian frowns a little at the change in the rider's voice, quirking an eyebrow at the revelation that the brown hates people, but not him. In fact, he looks a little smug at that. He frowns when she pulls her hand away, his expression changing to one of shock when she asks him if he'd be a candidate, "Me?" He blinks, shaking his head as though making sure he heard her right, "You think I should be a candidate?" He almost sounds as though he thinks she's lost her mind, "I lived at Ista Weyr for twelve turns and I was never Searched and now that I've been at Southern for a month and found a woman I like, /now/ a dragon decides that I'm candidate material?" He shakes his head, not saying no, but just in disbelief that this is happening, "So then, what about us? I suppose that candidates aren't allowed to be in relationships, are they?"

"Zavroth thinks you should be a candidate," and the clarification is subtle, but it's there. Brenka's not going to voice her opinion on this, and her expression is no longer conflicted. She's doing her /job/ at the moment. Personal feelings are on hold. She takes another deep breath, and offers a soft, "Sometimes, it takes a while. I was at Southern for Turns before being Searched," she admits. She can't help but smile a bit at 'woman I like' bit, and her cheeks flush a little. "Well, technically," she tells him, looking thoughtful, "There is no rule against a romantic relationship. Just... no physical one. Candidates cannot have sex." She shifts, looking vaguely uncomfortable sitting on Zavroth's back with him debating his decision. "So... do you accept?" and she carefully keeps her voice devoid of any personal feelings. This is his choice, not hers.

"So what do you think?" Mattian's expression is carefully neutral, though there's a spark of resentment in his eyes, "Do you think, given what I've told you about my past, would I make a good dragonrider?" He flushes faintly at the mention of a physical relationship, but his eyes never leave her face, "I don't really mind the no physical relationship thing, but would you be interested in a relationship with a man that is a candidate?"

To her credit, Brenka actually considers the question carefully before answering. "I don't think it is your past that matters, when it comes to being a dragonrider," she says simply. "You are a hard worker, you put up with Naltia, you would make a good dragonrider," she says finally. Her expression softens, warms as she smiles at him, and she scoots closer. Very gently she takes his face in her hands and leans forward to kiss him. "Yes. I am interested in /you/. It does not matter if you are a candidate, a stablehand, or the Weyrwoman's assistant."

Mattian nods at her words, still looking thoughtful until she kisses him. The kiss earns a smile and an enthusiastic responce as he wraps his arms around her, "Well in that case..." He smirks and gives her another brief kiss and winks, "I accept."

Brenka is more than willing to pull him close and continue the kissing, but a rumble from Zavroth has her backing off a little. "Congratulations, then," and she manages a smile for his benefit. "Let's get off of Zavroth, he's clean anyways, and I'll help you move your things into the barracks."

Mattian chuckles softly and nods, reluctantly letting her go, "Sounds good." He looks vaguely smug that he's managed to get an admission out of her that she's interested in him.

Vignette - Flight Loss

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 20:50:18 GMT

Zavroth loses a mating flight, and Brenka's post-flight traditions are just a little different from most.

This was a concept that's been floating around my head for a few days, but I still don't think I did it justice in writing. Oh well.

Warning: "Strong" content, though not graphic. And there's kind of a gross-ness factor.

The green was caught, and not by Zavroth.

Brenka pushed her way out of the cottage, her head swimming. She stumbled forwards, one hand seeking out the porch railing, the other arm wound tightly around her stomach. She made it down the stairs and across the clearing with minimal stumbling. When she made it to the trees, she leaned against the first one she found and shut her eyes tight. To say that she didn't notice those around her would be an understatement. Until there was a pair of arms around her.

"You don't want to do that," she warned him in a weak voice. His arms were tight, but what she rebelled against was the heavy scent of booze that surrounded him. She felt her stomach turn dangerously, and the hand against the tree flew to her mouth. His arms caught her before she fell forwards, pulled her against him, and Brenka felt her head spin.

He was saying something, his voice low and husky against her ear, but she didn't hear the words. Her own, protests and warnings, were lost and mumbled against her hand. Her eyes remained shut tight, but the sensation of spinning, of freefall, of vertigo did not cease. It didn't help when he spun her around, and Brenka bit her tongue to fight back the nausea. It was debilitating, this spinning, falling, sensation she was fighting. Which is, really, the only reason he was getting away with what he was doing.

His face was pressed against her hair now, breathing in the scent of her soap; his fingers wound in it, tangling. Brenka's hands moved from herself to him, pressing flat against his chest, a gentle pressure as she murmurs another, "You really don't want to do that," of warning. And it wasn't for revenge she was concerned, but the heaving, rolling, clenching sensation in her stomach. She felt the same flight lust, but it was definitely not the predominant emotion, and Brenka knew she had seconds left.

"Really, move," she tells him, her voice bordering on panicked now. She gave an ineffectual push, but was shaking too much to put any weight behind it. He didn't notice, and his breath was hot and heavy against her ear. His arms were tight, hands tracing down her sides, to her stomach, moving in ways they really had no business moving. But it was the heavy stench of alcohol that finally did it.

With one last push, Brenka managed to get herself far enough away, twisting out of range as her stomach heaved. She'd had a light lunch, which she was not thankful for, as she vomited everything up into the foliage. His hands vanished, his entire presence gone. This was not exactly what he'd bargained for. Though her stomach still twisted and rolled, the fresh air helped clear her head. She heard a quick, "On second thought, maybe not," from the other rider as he hurried away. A small part of Brenka's mind wondered if she shouldn't have just thrown up on him after all.

But he was gone, and she was alone with her spinning head, heaving stomach and trembling limbs. She sank to the ground against the tree, and turned to press her forehead against the rough, cool bark. She willed herself to concentrate on the pain of it, the sharp, roughness of the tree rather than the sense of weightless free-fall that was only slowly fading. Zavroth was on the ground, and he sent that sensation to help. Solid. Firm. /Ground/. They were not flying, they were earthbound. She was not falling.

Brenka took deep, steadying breaths, focused on the stability of the ground, the bark of the tree, the reassurances of her dragon. Slowly, slowly, the vertigo was fading. Slowly, her stomach began to settle, though there was nothing left in it to lose.

She spent another two minutes there until the ground stopped moving beneath her. Only then, when both the passion of the flight, and the nausea that accompanied it faded did she stand and head back to her own cottage to sleep off the rest of the afternoon.

Brenka's Playlist

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 06:55:12 GMT

I'll try to provide links to youtube music things if possible :)

Also, initial in parenthesis indicates who the song is for (either Brenka, Zavroth, or both)

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (Brenka's themesong)

I'll Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie (Z/B)
Falling For You - Colbie Caillat (B)
Why Does It Always Rain On Me? - Travis (B)
Stuttering - Ben's Brother (B)
I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry (B)
Change - Deftones (Z)
Distant Dreams - Blue Foundation (B)
Bullet with Butterfly Wings - Smashing Pumpkins (Z)
I Want To Hold Your Hand - The Beatles (B)
I Have Loved You - Jessica Simpson (B)
Breathe In, Breathe Out - Mat Kearney (about B?)

OOC: My Computer and Me

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 08:55:31 GMT

So, my new computer is kaput (has been, at this point) and is off to get repaired. So I'm stuck on my old junky one which doesn't like me, doesn't like logs, and doesn't like MUSH games. Which makes a lot of things hard (It also doesn't like to type, as I am now reminded). So logs will be sporadic at best. Not all RP will be logged, not all logs will be posted, until I get my new laptop back. Just a warning :)

-Bren

Journaling

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 22:45:32 GMT

Really, what kind of an idiot am I? The stupid kind, of course. The worst kind. In my defense, I didn't mean it to get that big. I just wanted to be helpful. But really, who am I to try and tell the Weyrwoman how to do anything? Even a suggestion like that was bound to imply that she wasn't competent. And, I mean, it's Naltia. I should have just held my tongue and kept the conversation on herdbeasts.

I mean, how stupid could I be? I'm sure she's tried everything already. And I'm sure she's thought about it much, much more than I have. It's just what Zavroth said, that made me speak up. Well, not said, so much as felt. Smug.

He may not have the best memory, but I guess something about the situation brought up thoughts of weyrlinghood, and one thing just lead to another. As soon as I remembered, he remembered, and he was smug about it again. Stupid brown (of course I write that with all fondness.)

But it is a problem. I'm sure it's unpleasant for her, each time she must fight with her dragon. I've never had to fight with Zavroth like that. I can't even imagine it.

Maybe I'll send her a gift.

In the Weyrhall

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:49:58 GMT

Who: Brenka, Andromeda
Where: WeyrHall, Southern Weyr

---| Weyrhall |------------------------------------| Southern Weyr (#333) |---
Adobe walls rise from granite tiles towards the crossbeams that support the impressively high ceiling, which has been painted: azure skies and wispy clouds dominating the western side, ebony pinpricked with silver the eastern. Broad windows with deep sills face the courtyard: each decorated with stained glass. Warm yellow light filters in from outside on this clear spring morning. A light breeze picks up the warmth and stirs it gently around, bringing with it the faintly damp smell of puddles drying in the sun.

On the south wall a 'tapestry' and two 'paintings' have been hung to add color to the walls and below these a long serving 'table' is placed near the kitchen entrance, laden with food and drink. Frequently replenished, the table is often a hive of activity as people gather to read the 'menu' posted on the adjacent wall. Throughout the rest of the hall trestle tables have been placed in parallel. Behind some are benches and yet others have chairs, padded with green cushions. In the remaining corner a heavy 'loom' sits, a task threaded and in progress when time allows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A pleasant morning at Southern sees Brenka already up, alert, and even bathed. Her hair hangs down her back, damp but no longer dripping, and she sports a fresh, 'just-scrubbed' look. Greetings are called as she moves towards her destination, breakfast, and she selects a modest plate of fruits with a bowl of cold cereal. And now for a place to sit. Brenka's not picky; she takes the first open seat far enough from the door to not be crowded.

Andromeda is already settled at a table with empty seats, her attention glued to a long listing that's sitting on the table next to her bowl of cereal, the young archivist's finger running down the list from item to item inbetween spoonfuls of breakfast. As there's motion at the edge of her sight, she's hurriedly looking up at her new table companion, blushing a little as she blinks, trying to get her eyes to adjust. "Good morning, miss." She offers, even as her attention drops once more to the table top.

"Good morning!" answers Brenka, remarkably cheerful for such an early hour. There's a quick pause as Brenka swallows a spoonful of cereal, before she answers, "Brenka, by the way. I'm a first-name kind of person." She mixes her cereal now, evenly coating everything. "Getting an early start, hm?"

Andromeda looks up suddenly at Brenka, caught a bit off guard by the other woman's cheerful mood, eyes wide as she blinks. A shy smile, and the archivist slowly nods. "Nice to meet you, Brenka." She offers, and its a moment before she remembers her own manners. "Oh!" She says softly, blushing before offering her own introduction. "Andi.. And.. There's a lot to go through, to make sure its straight for when there are candidates to keep track of as well." And who she feels are likely to ruin all her hard work.

Brenka is silent as she chews, a little cereal, a little fruit, a little more cereal; the girl's hungry! "Nice to meet you, Andi." Curious, but polite enough not to lean right on over and peek for herself, Brenka eyes the archivist's documents. "Getting ready for candidates already?" she asks with a smile. "I forget how fast things move. Not much changes for me until they actually *get* here."

"The lists have to be right. With.. With Threadfall being back I.. I'm certain I've more people to add every day than it was before.. And.. And more to take off too." Unfortunately. "But.. If I can get caught up, before the candidates start pouring it, it will be easier. And, I won't need help." As Andromeda shifts in her seat, it becomes evident that more paperwork is piled in her lap as well, one hand resting protectively over it. "Do you.. work with the candidates, then?" Andi asks to fill the silence even as she's leaning to take another few bites of her cereal, reading over her list once more.

"Oh yeah?" asks Brenka, conversationally. She's been eating and listening, but able to do the head-bob 'active' listening bit. A quick, tentative peak and Brenka offers Andi a sympathetic smile. "Paperwork. I know how you feel." She spoons up the last of her cereal, intent on getting all of it at once. "Oh, no," she clarifies with a little grin, "Not unless you count Searching them. Now and again I get lucky with Zavroth - that's my dragon," duh, "and he'll pick one out of a crowd he likes. But otherwise, I don't see much of them. Not that I like it that way. I kind of miss hanging out with candidates. Especially the Hold-bred ones."

"I.. I really don't mind the paperwork. Especially when.. it keeps me out of the way. And.. And I don't get told to do much, when I have it with me." A pause and she blushes. "Not that I'd ever... Not do something that was asked of me but.." She shakes her head hurriedly, falling into awkward silence, more than happy to let Brenka do the talking. "I.. I hope you have some luck this time then.. You and Zavroth." Andromeda's hesitant smile is turned back at the brownrider, before she pulls the paper off the table, slipping it to the bottom of the stack in her lap - and nothing replaces it at least for the moment.

Half finished with her breakfast, Brenka slows down a bit, more pausing and thoughtful listening while she picks through her plate of fruit. "Oh, definitely," she agrees, bobbing her head gently. "Nothing gets people to leave you alone like a giant stack of paperwork." She grins wide and pops a bite of mango in her mouth. "Not to sound, um, rude, but I don't know your face. Have you been in Southern for long? And please don't take offense, it's not like I know everyone." Her moment of brief awkwardness is quickly shrugged off, and she smiles encouragingly.

With her own bowl of cereal finished and pushed out of the way, Andromeda sits back in her chair - though still sitting rather primly with her shoulders pushed back and her hands on the papers in her lap. At Brenka's question, she blushes a little, slowly nodding. "None..None taken. I.. I'm usually in the records rooms. Or.. somewhere else. There's a group in there now, though so I.. couldn't take my breakfast with me."

Another mango disappears into Brenka's mouth, and she chews it thoughtfully as she watches Andromeda. "Oh," she says once she's swallowed. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, then! Do you usually do that, though? Take your lunch into the records room and, ah, hide away?" she wonders, head tilt just slightly to the side. "It sounds kind of lonely."

"It.. Its nice to meet you too." Andromeda blushes a little, and slowly nods. "Usually just.. breakfast and lunch. I.. try and make sure to find my parents and eat dinner with them. Just.. Just for them." She shrugs a little, glancing down at her lap and the back at the brownrider. "Its.. Its not so bad. Its quiet, usually and you can.. just think."

"Oh, good!" says Brenka of dinner with her parents. "It's nice to spend time with family. I visit mine when I can," she adds as she plucks another bit of fruit from her plate. Her head bobs, and she smiles in understanding. "I definitely know the value of quiet time. But it's good to spend time with friends, too. Friends help keep you grounded. I'd probably go crazy without my Wing." She pokes at a slice of redfruit. "So, since you work in the Records Room, is it safe to assume you enjoy reading?"

"I.. I really enjoy getting to see them. I'm glad that.. I didn't have to go somewhere else.. I think I'd miss them." She admits shyly, before shaking her head a little. "I just.. I think I prefer the records. I.. I don't have to worry about anyone else fighting then." At the question, her eyes widen and she nods hurriedly. "I.. I really do. A lot."

Brenka's smile widens, positively delighted. "Wonderful! So do I. Especially history and political things. I used to read to the children, too," she explains. "Do you want any of this?" she offers, motioning to her plate of food. "I have to get going to drills, and I'd just hate to throw it out."

"Me.. Me too." She says, her smile growing a bit stronger - if she's still a bit hesitant. "I.. I tend to just read to myself, though. It.. Its easier than reading aloud." She admits, and then glances at the offer, shaking her head. "I.. I'm okay miss. I.. I mean Brenka. Thank you.." She offers, even as she's gathering up her own papers. "I.. I should see if the room is empty now anyway." And with a nod of her head to Brenka, she's awkwardly excusing herself, stealing a glance over her shoulder now and again.

OOC: I'm back?

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:15:28 GMT

Yes. I am trying to be back. Due to work/school, I was gone for a rather long time :( But now I'm going to try and bring Brenka back. That's the good news.

The bad news is that, with a new computer, I have NONE of her old logs. Not-a-one. Except for what is already posted here, no older logs will be available. It sucks, but that's life. :P stupid old computer.

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 17:31:12 GMT

OOC

Phew! Got all of my March logs posted! I know, I know, 'It's about time!' :D I still have all my April logs (and the month isn't even over yet!) I'll try to get them done before the weekend. Whee!

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 17:09:00 GMT

Chance Meeting
Who: Brenka, Caluki, Theresana, Ashlei, Sabella
Where: Southern Weyr, Landing Field

Logfile from SouCon MUSH.

---| Landing Field |--------------------------------| Southern Weyr (#33) |---
The dense jungle has released a large, spacious field from its clutches, stretching in a slightly irregular circle and large enough for an entire Flight of dragons to land or take wing comfortably. The ground is formed of slightly sandy but mostly hard-packed dirt blanketed by short blades of grass, Southern's testament to grow anything, anywhere. The larger foliage is reserved for the edges of the clearing where lush green ferns emerge from the fertile soil, and trees spread their branches in an attempt to reach the sky, shading the jungle's undergrowth in partial shadow.

Shadows are long now as the sun reaches out for the western horizon, illuminating the world with a ruddy golden glow. A seaward breeze has begun to flow, carrying with it the aromas of redfruit and roasting meat.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evana mutters to herself, mostly, "I guess I'll go look for the Headwoman." She smiles to those whom she's met, albeit briefly, at the firelizard hatching, then says aloud, "Well met, again, and clear skies." Streak lets out a chirrup to his clutchmates.

Maybe they've blocked the image of dead things out -- that's got to be it. Luki carefully settles both meatbeasties onto the ground, where a certain young bronze firelizard leaps down to guard the catch. Never mind that he's, well, sure not big enough to scare even a trundlebug away. "Good luck with that," The young man calls after Evana, smiling vaguely. Then, he turns, peering back at the group of young women. "Try breaking the last canning jar," There's a wince. "That's a fiasco." The hunter watches with fascination as Theresana plays with the wire, before glancing around slowly.

"See what? What did I do?" Mind you Sabella is obviously confused, but she does belatedly catch Caluki's compliment. "Oh! Thank you, you look lovely, too." Cept for the dead things, but she won't point that out. As Evana heads out, the girl half turns to look at her, her brows furrowing mildly. "What happened with her?"

Theresana watches the littler bronze guard the meatbeasties, sighing as hers decides to go join him. She calls afterhim, "Medatch!" But he just turns briefly to her, chirps, and turns back, chiruping inquisitivitly, then almost seeming to wait. Theresana sighs and offers a little wave to Caluki, the meatcritters not bothering her- she's helped out with, literally, almost every aspect of the weyr. Including skinning beasties. And she'd helped the healers too.

Dirgah precedes Brenka, chittering in an angry, deep-noted voice. He hisses at the other lizards as he circles around, waiting for his human. Brenka is in as foul a mood as her firelizard (or maybe it's the other way around) as she stomps towards the Landing Field. Her face is red, her hands are balled into fists, and she's mumbling angrily under her breath.

Ashlei shakes her head, "Let me count the wa.. Oh. Hi there." There is a tilt of the head, as the young woman looks over at Luki, then tilts her head. "You were another who got caught at the Hatching?"

Usiri is a happy Firelizard. The energetic young bronze's growing muscles gleam as he bounds around 'his' kills, chirping excitedly at the other firelizards. Look at what /he/ has. Luki watches fondly, but has his attention pulled back by the girls. "Of course I do," The young man says to Sabella, waggling his eyebrows and laughing cheerily. "The bloodstains are fashionable, I'm told." Wink! "Sure am. That's Usiri, down there. Handsome fellow, isn't he?" The young man's cautious as he waves to Brenka, eyebrows furrowing faintly.

The angry chittering draws Sabella's attention, her brows furrowing as she watches Dirgah followed in by an equally angry Brenka. "Oi, it's just not a good night, it looks like." Drawing back a half step, she wrinkles her nose before lightly clearing her throat. "I think I might be better off in the kitchen with my mother finding me extra work." Luki's waggling brows, however, halt her in place, both of her own arching mildly. "How do you do that? It would give me a headache." She's certain of it.

Theresana watches, and as her bronze doesn't seem to bother the other, relaxes somewhat, until a Brenka enters, storming mad, at which she debates climbing back up into her tree. It /is/ safer up there, most of the time.

Ashlei shakes her head, with a smirk. A smirk that stays, as she looks up in response to Bella's comment. "Trouble in forcast?" she asks the kitchen assistant, before shaking her head and sighing, "And I swear - that woman is trying to make me blind. I think I'm going to lie down, before my head falls off, or something equally drastic." Deciding to do embroidery in the terrible light that was what passed for sunset in this mirky gloom had nothing to do with it. It was all 'that woman''s fault.

With one last angry squack, Dirgah lands on Brenka's shoulder, winding his tail tightly around her neck. "Ugh, Dirgah, you're choking me!" complains Brenka, tugging at his tail. As she comes upon the group, her angry complaints quiet a bit, and she looks suspiciously around the area. "Joren's not around, is he?" she asks.

"Tell me if your head falls off," Sabella notes to Ashlei. "Although, I suppose I would notice if that -did- happen." Still uncertain whether or not it is wise to remain where she is, she glances over at Brenka and shakes her head faintly. "You know," she asides to Ashlei. "I think I *will* go with you after all." Slanting a glance at Theresana, she smiles wryly, doing her level best not to glance up the tree. "Well, see you later, I suppose. I may decide to ask for tree climbing lessons." Fear. Just... /fear/. It is in the wake of tossing Caluki a merry wink, that she turns on her heels and breaks into a trot for the kitchens. If she's lucky, she may just manage to avoid running into her mother, as well.

Caluki chuckles. "Bad night all around?" He offers something like a sympathetic look. "Terrible." There's the briefest of pauses before he can't suppres a bright smile. "It doesn't hurt. Looks cool though, doesn't it?" He waggles 'em again for good measure, laughing easily. "You look like you want to run or something," Is muttered to Theresana, as Usiri chirps complacently at his fellows. "Er," Ashlei is eyed in a slightly wary fashion. "Ah, enjoy your rest, then. And you as well!" Sabella is waved off with a grin. Then it's Brenka's turn for a wary look. "Not sure who that is."

Ashlei rolls her eyes. "Should I promise to lob it at you, if it does?" she asks, as she saunters after the girl. One hand - the one unoccupied by basket, is lifted in a lazy wave, tossing a, "Who?" over her shoulder as she goes. Alas for her, there is a lack of waiting for answer.

"Consider yourself lucky," decides Brenka, still looking upset, but no longer hissing under her breath. And she's not biting anyone's head off, at least. "He's the most annoying, insufferable boy I've ever met!" Dirgah gives an annoyed hiss for good measure, and Brenka lifts her hand to rub at his little brown head. She gives a fleeting glance to the retreating Sabella and Ashlei, and waves a quick, choppy good-bye.

Caluki blinks at the vehemence. He's a poor simple boy, and she's quite angry indeed. All he can do? That's right, joke about it. "Now," The young man grins broadly. "Is that any way to speak of a poor simple boy?" There's a cheerful look. "You know we can't help ourselves." Smile! Run, Luki, run! Probably not the best course of action, that.

Brenka's eyes narrow in an uncharacteristically venemous look. "Excuse me?" she asks, her voice dark. "You, sir, may be a poor, simply boy, but Joren? Not even close! He's the foulest, most self-centered creature I've ever met, and I cannot *believe* a dragon thought him worthy of being Searched!" She huffs indignantly, while Dirgah rubs his head against her cheek, furiously attempting to calm her.

Theresana settles in, content to watch. No suprise there. And Medatch, too, is keeping a relativitly low profile, for once. Maybe he'd rather stay away from the anger?

Caluki tosses a curious look Theresana-wards, smiling a little -- but Brenka's indignant, and he can't not answer. "Hey now," The young man laughs, flashing a cheerful grin. "Maybe he got searched just so he could get slapped around by --" He tactfully refrains from saying 'a fish', because he's said that enough and realizes now, perhaps that it might be silly. "Candidacy. Yanno, all the work and all. Bet it knocks it out of him, eh?"

Brenka shakes her head angrily, apologizing at once as Dirgah's head is thumped by her cheek. She reaches up and scratches his chin again. "No. He's been here weeks now, and he's still a pompous a-" but she cuts off, and sighs. "I'd put good money down that he's only here because his parents wanted to be rid of him. And I cannot wait to be rid of him as well." She snorts angrily, and crosses her arms. "You would too, if you knew him." This is said towards Theresana, since she seems to be less smiley than Caluki.

Theresana sighs, and rises. A strange buzzing whistle calls her flit to her shoulder, and, with a brief farewell nod to the two she'd been watching, heads into the weyrhall.

Caluki looks half-amused, half-wary at Brenka's vehemence and anger, but eventually settles on nodding in a commiserating fashion. "Some people," He mourns, smiling vaguely. Thankfully for the poor boy, he's saved by the arrival of another hunter. "C'mon, Luki. Gotta get these skinned." He calls, and Luki winces. "Ah, yeah. I guess so. Hey, just fill his cot full of crawlies or something!" That's a good solution to everything, don't you know. The young man winks. "Good luck getting him back." Then he bends and picks up the meatbeasties, smiling as Usiri alights on his shoulder. "Bye." There's a smile, before he's loping off after that hunter.

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 16:56:34 GMT

Firelizard Hatching, Continued

LAKESIDE MEADOW

"Right, then I haven't made quite the mess I thought I'd--oi!" Alina's answer is cut off in a yelp of mingled surprise and warning as something small and lively thwaps her on the ankle before disappearing into the grass. "Mind the wild one; it's worse'n my two ever were. Yes, I meant you y'little green handful." From the trees overhead, Jezara chirrs a very smug reply. Kirienth was never, ever that much of a troublemaker. That honor was reserved for her rider. "... Er. Sabella then. Knew I had it at least part o' the way right, anyhow."

"I will," Brenka tells Sam, grinning. Gritty meat is laid carefully by the bait bucket, before Brenka turns towards the bowl to gather more. Alas, it is too late, and she turns to find Caluki with his new 'lizard. "Oh! He's beautiful," she tells him, smiling. "Congratulations!"

Having 'coached' Eriale to the point where the girl is likely to be black and blue, Sabella finally draws back with the little green snoozing in her arms. Course, she can't help exhaling a boisterous laugh in response to Alina, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as she finds a spot to settle over by Sam and snoozing brown. "Oi, it's a crowd in there." Course, she flashes a smile at both Sam and Brenka, a flick of her hips sending her skirts out of her way as she settles down on the grass with a gusty sigh.

Veyanne smiles over at Caluki, though it might be more from relief than anything. "Good luck with him."

Eriale groans softly. "I don't think he wanted to play games with me." She states. From her tone, it's hard to tell whether she thinks this was a bad thing or a good thing. She does, however, manage to peel the scrap of meat from off her rear section. Grunting, she sits back down next to the bowl of meat, wondering where and when the next 'attack' will come from.

Sam smiles over to Caluki and does manage to catch sight of a lizard crawling into his hand. After a moment he leans over to speak softly, so as not to startle the sleeping hatchlings "Congratulations." Leaning back, he winks over to Brenka, offering an encouraging nod. Beaming over to Sabella, he lifts his litlte sleeping brown cafrefully, eager to show him off to any who want to see.

"Now, y'silly --" Caluki laughs as his meat-filled hand is tackled by a little firelizard. "You shouldn't, ow, eat that fast, ow." He takes a moment to admire the gleam of the hatchling's hide in the light as the young one obviously mistakes fingers for meat from time to time. "Stop, you!" This is laughed, with a grin tossed Sam-wards. "Thanks."

"He's lovely," Sabella murmurs as she tilts her chin toward Sam's snoozing little brown. As she shifts about to get into a more comfortable position, the little green snoozing in the crook of her arm makes a sleepy sound, her head raising momentarily before she chuffs and settles back down into a snooze. It is as Sabella turns her gaze down the little firelizard sleeping in her arms, that smiles wryly, wiry curls bobbing with a faint shake of her head. "Beggin' your pardon, missy, didn't mean to disturb." Course, the fond amusement in her tone is more then a little obvious. It is once she's settled comfortably, she raises her head, cranes her neck, and peers through the crowd in prepartion to cheer Eriale on.

Ashandrei jumps down off of Jorath, landing smoothly as her lifemate croons.

Stairway to Heaven Egg twists and turns into an elegant waltz. Wibble wobble, one two three, one two three. Its contents crackle and wiggle merrily within their confines. There's a chirple, then the Stairway to Heaven Egg unspirals from itself, and the Alohamora Hatchling that spins free is much clumsier than the graceful movements of its egg have implied.

Alohamora Hatchling

The moonlight mixes with the candle and glowlight to give this blocky, somewhat clumsy and heavyset hatchling the appearance of a warm glow. Its whirling red eyes are friendly despite the hungry color to them. No inhibitions, this hatchling seems to insist on sticking to light, but the sort of lights that, when mixed, make determining its color nigh unto impossible.

Alina gets just a glimpse of that sand and greeny firelizard as it blurrs by. "Whoa, look out for--who got *that* one? Was that the wild one was zoomin' about a second ago? Whoever it was, they'd best hang on to their..." she rather wisely cuts herself off before finishing that sentence, glancing up and over to one side. And... there's someone in a tree? "Hullo? Who's up thataway? Sana, if you're in a tree again, I'm gonna laugh." She has, of course, spotted Theresana and Medatch above her, but she isn't yet aware she's right.

Brenka laughs a little at Sam's encouragement, and she turns quickly back to the Hatching at hand. Shifting a little, she juggles the red meat in her hand and looks expectantly towards the eggs. "Oh!" she jumps, giggling at her own surprise as the new firelizard Hatches. This time, she wiggles that bit of meat with a vengeance, letting the gooey bit wiggle and drip from her hand.

Veyanne breathes a sigh of relief as this one seems to be less threatening. Scooting back forward, she selects a piece of meat from the bowl and holds it out, jiggling it a bit as she watches the others.

Eriale cranes her neck around to smile up at Sabella and her sleeping green. Her attention is suddenly distracted at the sound of another egg cracking. "Funny, everyone seems to actually be /enjoying/ the little stomachs." She mutters to herself, and then sighs, resigning herself to the fact that people are having /fun/ with the hatchlings. So she makes a grab for a fresh hunk of meat, and grabs someone's foot instead. Uh, /not/ edible. Eri hunts around for the bowl with her hand, squinting as there comes a beam of light from somewhere. "Ha! Just what I needed!" She crows, as the light shines directly on what she was looking for. "Thanks, whoever shone that over here." The gardener grabs the bowl and fishes a chunk of meat from it, wiggling it in the direction she thinks the hatchling is in.

Caluki laughs softly as the hatchling exuberantly all but inhales his food. "Careful!" The boy snorts, laughingly peering around, mischief in his eyes. "You silly creature." His face is of contentment, as he returns congratulations with winks, returning to his brother's side -- no sense trying to focus on hatchling-watch when he's trying to keep the little Bronzeling from inhaling enough to burst!

Ashandrei edges into the fray, shoulders set somewhat stubbornly. "Okay, okay, I'm /goin'/, ace," she says aloud, Bitran-accented voice just this side of cranky. "Don't understand the shardin' appeal, but I'm goin'." She bumps shoulders with someone, looks up in startlement-- only to have a bowl of meat pressed into her hands. "Ah, shells," she mutters, then gruffs a "Thank you," and a lopsided smile before worming her way closer to the cluster of eggs.

Sam smiles at the group before he returns his gaze back to his own new little friend. What to call you." He murmurs to himself, still clueless in that matter. With a shrug, he goes back to rubbing the litlte guy's back while peering around when another of the eggs hatch.

Tossing Eriale a wink, Sabella tilts her head back, attempting to shake wiry curls out of her face while avoiding jostling the firelizard half sprawled over her lap. "Excitement is always fun," she agrees readily. Course, she is forced to swallow a laugh when Eriale nearly grabs someone's foot rather then a hunk of meat. A careful shifting of her weight, even that scant movement garnering a murmur of protest from her snoozing firelizard, ends with her sitting tailor style on the grass, her brows furrowing faintly as Sam momentarily captures her attention. "Oi, names... Why does that sound like such a simple matter and feel like such a complicated one?"

Theresana blinks and starts back to awakeness, just managing to catch a convenient branch to keep her balence, blinks rapidly a few times, and peers down. "Oh. Hello, Rider Alina!" She peers down, "How many of them've hatched now? And what color's that one roaming about? It looks almost brown." She may not be making the most sence, but she just woke up from her half-asleepness, so... Hey, the fact that she didn't fall out is good enough. And as long as there's still unatached hatchlings roaming around, she's staying up here, no mater how late it is.

Alina blinks upward. "Y'fall asleep up there? Glad you didn't fall right outta the tree, that could've been a disaster and a mess, right there." Yes, she caught the whole half asleep and somewhat bleary bit. "And heyla, Sana, now I know it's really you. Any reason you're up a tree again? Other than likin' the view, which I won't deny can be pretty amazing certain times of the day." Beat. "Or night." That's genuine curiosity in her voice, rather than anything resembling accusation.

Alohamora Hatchling tail wags, cocking its big blocky head back and forth and chirping a dusky hello. Then it sets out at a waddle, tail swaying back and forth as the hulky hatchling tries to crowd his way through the bowls, even pushing a few aside accidentally. Hurriedly chirpled apologies as the big creature tries to excuse his bumbling haste.

"Bold, isn't it?" laughs Brenka, watching the confident little Hatchling wander around in the glow light. She gives her chunk of meat another little wiggle, and a few drops of blood splatter on her skirt. "Oh ick," she says, wrinkling her nose once more at the setting stain. "Great. There goes another skirt!"

Veyanne giggles as she watches and listens, holding for her meat for the little (huge?) hatchling. "Come on, over here," she says, "plenty to fill that huge stomach of yours."

Eriale catches the wink from Sabella and throws one back to her. Her hand, resting as it is without meat in it, suddenly gets trodden upon by a stray foot. Yelping, the gardener brings it to her mouth to suck. Luckily, there's no broken skin, but the yelp could have brought a wherry to its knees, seriously. "Sorry..." She says, then tries to spot the hatchling she just /knows/ is out there. "Over here!" Eri calls. "Meat for sale! And I'm just as clumsy as you look, dear one..." The gardener giggles as she finally sees the bumbling little creature. "Come her and feast with me, and we can be clumsy together!"

Alohamora Hatchling cocks its head, swaying back and forth in front of Veyanne for a moment, as if its slightly inebriated. Then it croons disappointedly as it seems to find Veyanne's offering too small. It moves along the line. Eriale, nope. Too fiesty. There's a slightly cajoling chirp and then off it goes. Swaying back and forth the hatchling seems to regard the world around it for a moment, dazedly taking in the spectacle around it with and awed chirp. There are lights, and stars, and grass, there's food and happy people. Nothing in seems to please this little one more.

Sam glances over towards Brenka as her skirts gets a few bloody drops on it. "Oh, bad luck that. Maybe the stain wont be too very noticable." Tilting his head a bit "That one moves as if it knows just what it wants." Referring to the confidant little hatchling of coarse.

"If I get something on it soon, it might come out." But Brenka's voice doesn't sound hopeful here, and she's looking disheartened. "Meh. I'll use it for the worst of the chores, then." That settled, she goes back to jiggling that meat, pausing only to rub at her wrist with her other hand. "Nice gooey meat.... yum," she says, not at all convincing.

Ashandrei mucks a finger in and around the meatbits in her bowl, finally close enough to get a good (ish) look at the hatchlings. She scoops a piece of meat out of the bowl, and wiggles it in a generally hatchlings-oriented direction. "Here, little ... hatchling-hatchling?" Her voice climbs the register slightly, and she casts a look over her shoulder to someone (some thing) at the far edge of the crowd, hidden in the shadows. (Or perhaps just blending in to a scrap of sky.) "Why'm I doin' this again, Jo?" gets asked out loud, but then some mental prod sends her attention back to meat-wiggling. Someone wants a pet, and bets are on that it isn't her.

Veyanne switches out the meat for another piece and holds it out to the hatchling hopefully.

Theresana shrugs, not that it's noticable in the dark. "I like the view, sure, but it's quiet, you won't believe how few people actually look up. And I was eating a snack, watching the moons, and then the eggs started hatching, and I figured I was safer up here. Mentioning hatchlings, can you see what color that one is from there? I can't see."

Eriale huffs lightly. Maybe she should tone it down some, since the hatchling seems afraid of her for some reason. "Hey, I won't bite you, I promise." She cajoles lightly. "And I really would like to see you properly, you know. Come over here and get some yummy" wiggle-wiggle "meat into you, and we'll go find a cosy, warm spot to snuggle up in? Somewhere in the light, away from all this confusion?"

Alohamora Hatchling pauses by a piece of meat, dripping with juices, that seems to suit its tastes, its hanging from Brenka's hand, nice and juicy. But there's a comforting croon at the sight of the bloody skirt. Ay there, it can't be that bad can it? But, suddenly shy, Alohamora seems to blush bashfully for a moment as it hesitates to step squarely into the flicker of lamplight between it and its meaning. Then an infirmary aid holding a lanturn is jostled and the light circle near it suddenly exposes the Friendly Protector Brown Hatchling's enormous size, just the instant he sinks his teeth into the piece of meat held by the Brenka he eyed shyly just a moment ago.

The Stairway to Heaven Egg splinters and out stumbles a Friendly Protector Brown Hatchling.

If anything this husky, almost furry brown hatchling is as big as a small bronze! In fact, he sticks out like a big brown... something. His muzzle is big and boxy, with dark mahogany brown patterns like whiskers on it. His eyeridges are big and chocolate brown. Rosey friendly ale and lager pours across his big muscly back in swoops and swirls. His big square grizzly brown back has muscles like sandstone rocks, and the windblasted and splintered elm, maple and pinewood that makes up his long and broad wings and thick limbs has patterns that look almost like furr. Odd caramel and mocha patterns cover his chest and continue down his tail, almost like a suit and tail coat, but one that's so absurdly colored that nobody would dare wear it wouldn't they?

"I don't think I have a skirt that isn't stained with something," Sabella murmurs in wry tones. Trailing a finger over her sleeping firelizard's belly, her smile broadens as she watches Eriale, a quietly pitched laugh escaping her lips in response to the gardner's 'flirting'. "There's the spirit, Eriale, a bit of sweet huffing goes a long, long way," she teases. "Oi!" She calls as the wee beastie sinks his teeth into Brenka's bit of meat. "That's the way!"

Veyanne smiles almost sadly toward Brenka, but says sincerely "Congratulations; he seems like a real sweetheart."

"This was one of my better ones," says Brenka to Sabella. "I was hoping to keep it... oh!" And then there's a little brown winged thing nibbling at her meat. Suddenly captivated, she holds very still until he's taken his bite, and then she's all smiles. "He's so big!" is the firt thing she says as she Impresses the little brown.

"You tryin' to avoid another one then, Sana?" That's amusement in Lina's tone. "Haven't a clue as to that one's color--oooh, I take that back, maybe?" She's squinting from Brenka to Sana and back again, which makes for a rather interesting turn or two, as one's in a tree and the other very much isn't. "Y'know, I'd never thought of it that way; it's never really occurred to me *not* to look up. I blame having t'know the weather to fly in, and looking for a clear bit of late." Roll of the eyes at the dark sky.

Eriale chuckles up to Sabella. "hey I tried, which is more than I was going to do." She smiles good-naturedly to Brenka. "Be a lot more noisy in the barracks tonight!" Eri winks, recalling their earlier conversation in the Weyrhall several nights ago. "Oh, did you want some meat?" She offers to Veyanne. "Or have you got some there? Can't see a sharding thing in this pitchness..."

White Knight, Red Queen Egg rocks in a hypnotic rhythmn, like the snaredrum march of an invisible army. Its slow, methodical tango drops shards from its surface in mismatched patterns. Slowly as the pieces drop away, a somewhat dazed and sleepy chirp brings the Stupefy Hatchling to life.

Stupefy Hatchling

Dust, silica, and the moonlight make this poor hatchling rather sparkly, you can't tell its true nature! But it seems to have a slight problem with coordination, staggering back and forth and creeling in a confused daze. Whippy tail, shroudy ragged wings too big for its body, long spindly neck and huge glittering eyes like a trundlebug! This is not a pretty sight folks!

Sam grins as he watches the little hatchling sneak up on Brenka's fingers. Once he takes a few more nibbles, the fisherman chuckles "Forgot all about the stained skirt now didnt ya?" Sam laughs a bit and nods in agreement with Eriale "Ya got that right." We probably wont be making many friends among the others in the barracks for a few days."

Just for that, Sam's gonna get a chunk of red meat lobbed at him. Gently, of course, but still. Brenka lets her little brown - make that BIG brown - finish his first chunk before scooping him up. He gives a startled squeak before she's shoving another bite into his mouth to placate him. There's a brief glance towards the new, wobbly Hatchling, but her own little pet is rather distracting.

Theresana nods- although, again, it's not visible- "Yeah. I may try for another one someday, but for now, I'm fine. How're you doing, by the way? You going to try for a third?"

Ashandrei looks almost disgustedly relieved that the little, "Brown, Jo, that's right, /please/ don't do that again," has Impressed to someone else. She drops the meat back into her bowl, and wipes her hand clear on her pantleg. But all too soon, another egg hatches, and her lifemate is prodding her back into action. It's a different piece of meat scooped up by nimble fingers better suited to throwing dice than enticing firelizards, then wiggled oh so enticingly at the little -- "Shells, that thing's uglified."

"Trying is more then half the fun," Sabella encourages Eriale. Course, she can't help grinning over at Sam and Brenka, another quiet laugh spilling past her lips at the mention of the promptly forgotten skirt. Attention, however, is stolen by the newest hatchling, her lips twitching up in a wry smile that bodes of more laughter to come as she shakes her head and tsks. "I look like that every time I wake." No doubt, with all those wiry curls she looks a tad bit worse then raggedy.

Eriale blinks as the last egg (it /is/ the last one, isn't it?) hatches a very...interesting looking hatchling. "Faranth's claws, is that a largish trundlebug, or a firelizard?" She jokes. "Surely a face only a mother could love...but I suppose I could too. Oi, watch yourself, little one, don't get trodden on!" Clearly, she's watching the little shadowed thing wander in a dazed state. "Come on over here and I'll make sure your steps are sure, and you get fed too!"

Veyanne says, "But not dangerous, or at least it doesn't seem it." At that, Veyanne holds out the new, improved piece of meat offered to the Alohamora instead to the confused one. "You look like I felt the first time I saw this area."

Stupefy Hatchling sways, as if disoriented. The poor thing cocks its head back and forth, then cautiously creeps down from the basket. There's a flash of stardust shrouds, and the Stupefy hatchling lets out a slow, dreamy croon.

Veyanne stops jiggling her meat, instead holding it still and calm. "Come on, little one," she encourages, "You'll feel much more steady once you've eaten something."

Sam looks towards the newly hatched little one, shaking his head a bit before peering back to his own new friend. The young man remains quiet, offering smiles all around, but mainly more fascinated with the snoozing lizard curled up in his hand.

Eriale laughs at the Stupefy Hatchling. "Little one, you'll need to watch yourself, not go on a-dreaming. Plenty of time for that /after/ you get all cosy and fed, and away from this dark and crowded place." She holds out the meat enticeingly to the little dreamer. "Come over here, and you do all the dreaming while I do all the work?"

Caluki sits off to the side looking contented, watching the people move in a vague mass of shadows and starlight. "Hmm," He laughs as his young Firelizard gambols around, belly bulging out comically. There is concentration, sure, but his attention is not on the mass of people -- for once, Luki is quiet.

Apparently, wiggling meat is boring. So, Ashrei dips it back in her bowl of meat, and starts flicking it, so that little splatters of blood fan out on the ground in front of her. After a moment's randomness, she actively starts squeezing liquid out of the chunk of meat, attempting to make patterns between the dots. Constellations? Runes? Only the Bitran-born brownrider really knows, and she ain't tellin'.

Brenka wiggles herself backwards, towards Sam and the bowl of meat. She grabs the gooey red gobs first, and offers more to her new firelizard. "Can you see the newest?" she asks her friend, glancing towards the Hatchling briefly. "All I saw was a very large wing, but not the color."

Stupefy Hatchling creels in woefull melancholy, stumbling back and forth past first Veyanne, twisting and falling over so that its splayed helplessly across an empty bowl. Then it wriggles, and wails, and oooops, its up again! And now its painfully close to hitting its head on Brenka's foot. Nope, not now! A mournful shrill and its managed to make its way past Eriale as well. Oh dear, its almost out of range! Focus.... focus...... no! Its all for naught! A peer up at the stars and a lamenting creel of anguish and forboding. Misfortune has arrived to cause trouble, have mercy upon us! Stumble, sway, hissssss, creel yeeeesss, the omens predict great tragedy on the starry horizon.

Tracing the line of her snoozing firelizard's wing, Sabella's expression softens, hazel eyes hooding as she indulges in her own bit of 'dreaming'. She is, however, still aware of the remaining firelizard meandering about in the dark, hazel eyes flicking over to watch as Eriale works at coaxing it toward her. It is in almost absent comment, that she asides wryly to Brenka, "Funny how grabbing hunks of goey meat becomes so much less unpleasant then it originally was, isn't it?"

"The trick," says Brenka to Sabella, glancing up briefly to smile, "Is to not think about it. I'm pretending it's just really mushy bread dough. That drips red." A few more pieces are fed to her firelizard before he gives a satisfied sounding croon, a burp, and promptly falls asleep in her lap.

Sam shakes his head at Brenka's question "Sorry no. Cant tell from here." He chuckles at Sabella's comment and peers over towards Caluki, wondering what could make the other so quiet for so long. Sorta. But then he's sorta being quiet as well.

"Red-dripping-bread-dough is very much worse," Luki catches a snippet of conversation, and peers around, laughing. Well, he hasn't been around long enough to know whose voice is whose!

Eriale frowns as the poor hatchling keeps on stumbling, and finally flails across an empty bowl. "You poor thing! Come on now, don't look so dazed, I can find the way with you, no matter how things look now. We'll sort it out together, see? Such tragedy need not make for an ends to things. We'll work it out together." Funny how she's come from not wanting a thing to to with the little hatchlings, to wanting to help one. "I thought you and your brothers would be a shadow to my stars, but you could bring the light to my eyes, yes?" Wiggling the meat, she fervently hopes that even if it doesn't impress to her, it will impress to someone who will look after it properly.

Veyanne makes to help the distraught lizard up as it stumbled in front of her, but it's up and away before she has the chance, Still, she proffers the meat, looking for all the world as if she's willing the hatchling to come back this way.

Ashandrei flicks a bit of meat into her pattern by accident, and frowns down at it. "Oh, it is not /actually/ the end of the world," she crankies at the firelizard's dramatics, swapping her squished-out piece of meat for another, more juicy one. Wiggle wiggle, wiggle wiggle, goes the bit of meat, flicking blood into intricate patterns around the wingrider's feet.

"Blood dripping bread..." Yes, Sabella get a vivid picture in her mind's eye and shudders while exhaling a wry laugh. "Oi, I'll /never/ get that picture out of my head, Brenka." Course, her attention is stolen by watching the stumbling little firelizard... And while she tries not to laugh, she can't help it. It's those eyes, those fabulously buggy eyes.

The poor Stupefy Hatchling is just that, stupified. There's so many sounds and smells and its dark and cool, it can't see where its going! Sway, stumble, creel of despair like a banshee's wail. It twirls and spins with no real predictability to its movements as if the sensations of the physical world are putting it on sensory overload. Suddenly, as if the bloody flecks on the ground with the meat in the middle were some kind of cue, the firelizard lets out a squeal of glee, snatches up the stray piece. The time has arrived!!! The hatchling tries to make a dramatic leap forwards, but it slips on a patch of blood and trips into the light, and the Incense Smoke and Crystal Blue Hatchling hits his mark at last! Ashandrei the foodthing has come as predicted!

The White Knight, Red Queen Egg cracks and out crawls an Incense Smoke and Crystal Blued Crystal Blue Hatchling.

Whisps of silvery smoke cover this sapphire crystaline blue with a mist of argentine dust. Pale arctic points, like stars, are scattered over stellar wings that fold across her body when at rest like a cloak. The ultramarine underside of these deeply nightened sails is brushed in odd squiggles, like letters of a forgotten language, that are jumbled across a blanket. Large owl like eyes glitter from within large ridges, looking outsized in a thin head and tapered muzzle. Lapis talons are tipped in shiny obsidian nails. His body is almost skeletal, colored in dappled bits of angelite with liquid hematite, amathyst, and apache tear drained between. His tail is just as threadbare, decorated in musty midnight blue.

Veyanne puts her meat back in her bowl and says to the kitchen aid "I tried, honest!" She hands the meat over, then says "I should get back to the Hall. I have a comprehension test tomorrow." With a friendly wave to those close enough to the light to see it, Veyanne heads off.

"No, no, you don't want -- noooo, /Jorath/, look what you made me /do/," Ashrei not-quite wails, before scooping the little blue up into the crook of her arm and offering it another bit of meat. With a reedy creel, it scarfs the morsel down, while the little brownrider just stares at it.

Brenka with a grin towards Sabella, Brenka balances her large Hatchling carefully as she rises. "Alright, time to change, and get this little guy washed. He's still gooey!" And with that, she heads for the barracks, murmuring nonsense at her little pet.

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:21:37 GMT

Grump Session
Brenka, Sam

---| Weyr Cove Beach |-----------------------------| Southern Weyr (#640) |---
Sand is backed against the sheer cliffs below the Weyr, a long expanse that stretches all the way to Southern Hold. Night surrounds the water, cloaking everything with in its darkness, the ocean sparkling like black diamonds, a mirror of the starry constellations above. The tide line is scattered with debris -- wood, from trees or shipwrecks, seaweed, both brown and green, and assorted shells. Palm trees stand in clusters at the base of the cliffs, the leaves rustling if anything but a gentle breeze stirs them. Dark clouds dim the stars overhead. A cooler spring breeze carries a subtle fragrance of the night flowers blooming in the jungles surrounding the Weyr, and a gentle rain slowly but surely falls, causing little splatters and spots on the water's surface.

As the beach wraps around the headland, it yields to the crags below the Weyr, the ocean frequently battling against the rocks to enshroud the whole area in mist. Occasionally, a plume of white foam is sent up into the air from an overzealous wave hitting one of the gaps to the many tidal pools.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's dark probably pretty dark along the beach about now. But a bobbing light from a glow shows that at least one person is still out and about. Sam carries a glow with him and drags a crate ona make shift sled behind from, going from tidal pool to tidal pool checking for any spiderclaws that have found their way onto the beach this late at night.

Brenka is coming from the southern path, pausing as she reaches the beach to remove her sandals. It's a vicious movement, though, one that nearly sends her toppeling to the ground at one particular jerk at her foot. The bobbing light doesn't go unnoticed, and Brenka heads pointedly in it's direction, a scowl on her face. She's looking rather dirty, smudges of dirt on her cheeks and across her clothes, and her hair's falling out of her tail. She's too far to recognize him, but she calls out anyways, "You're out late," in a tone that would, perhapes, imply that he shouldn't be.

Sam spots a would be platter sized entree and crouche on the side of the pool. He doesnt swoop in yet, he simple observes the huge spiderclaw, perhaps even considering letting go one of it's very large size. Carefully setting down his glow and tossing the rope on the ground he was dragging, Sam reaches down to scoop a bit of water into his hand to spalsh his face. Something to bring a litlte refresh from this oppresive dreariness. At the sharp accusation from behind him, Sam peeks quickly over his shoulder before standing. "Best time to get spiderclaws." Squinting a bit in the darkness beyond his glow "That you Brenka?"

Not for the first time tonight, Brenka is at a loss for words. She just stands there, looking surprised. And then she's clearing her throat and pulling at a lock of hair. "Erm, yea. Sorry Sam, didn't know it was you." There's still a grump in that voice, but the bite has left it. "Do you ever sleep?" she asks, frowning. "I know spiderclaws are delicious, and I'm sure the Weyr at large appreciates the effort... but aren't you tired?"

Sam cant help but laught a bit, nodding eagerly "Oh I sleep quite a bit actually." He gestures to the top of the cliff "Up there among the tree actually. On days when I plan on doing night hunts for spiderclaws, I make myself scarce a few hours a day and find a nice quiet spot away from the Weyr." He gives a shrug "I dont mind the hard work. It's the least I can do afterall. I'm rahter hopeless cooking things up, and I cant mend a ripped seam if my life depended on it. But I'm good at fishing and trapping claws, so that's what I do. And if it calls for working odd hours, I manage around that by taking naps at odd hours."

Brenka snorts, and she trecks a little further onto the sand to plop herself down where it's dry. She grumps, folding her arms across her chest. "Yea, well, lucky you," she huffs. She inspects her fingernails in the dim light, gives up after a moment, and sighs again. "Catch anything good?" she asks, unenthusiastically.

Sam blinks Brenka's snappy words and watches her a moment before crouching back down beside the pool. As he consiers what he might have done to upset the nanny, Sam shrugs and replies almost quietly to her question "Same ole Same ole." Reaching over for a bit of driftwood, he prods it into the water, overturning a couple of rocks beneath the surface.

Brenka rests her chin on her knees, watching him through the dark. She's frowning, and there's a harsh line on her forehead from the effort of it, but she's rather quiet for a while. She gives another sigh, and eventually asks, "Why do you sleep in the trees?"

Sam glances up from shifting the rocks around under the water and grins over to Brenka. "Dont know about the female dorms, but have ya ever tried to sleep with a herd of herdbeast stampeding by?" The young man snort in amusement. "there is so much snoring in the mens dorms that I can barely hear myself think." Sam shrugs "And I dont actually sleep 'up' in the trees. Just down in the treeline leaning back against a wide trunk. At times, I dont even mean to drift off, just sorta resting and watching the water from up there." Casting another glance to Brenka then back to the water, he's quiet a few seconds before going on "If ya dont mind me saying so Brenka, you seem to be in a disturbed mood this evening."

Shifing just a little, Brenka straightens her back so that she can speak without her knees in her mouth. "Don't think I could do that," she admits, wrinkling her nose. "And no, the women's dorm's aren't so noisy, but the Candidate Barracks sure are. Especially in the morning." She picks at the fabric draped over her knee. "I am, I suppose. I haven't felt like an errant child in.. well, a very long time." She's rather cross as she says that, scowling darkly towards the tidal pool. "I got yelled at."

Sam tilts his head a bit, gazing over to Brenka. The tidal pools occupants all but forgotten for the moment "Yelled at. Whatever for?" He frowns and eases out of his crouching to sit back on the edge of the pool. "If someone is mistreating you, go speak with the Headwoman. She strikes me as being feircely protective over the Weyr's own."

There's a loud and rather rude snort from Brenka, and she actually gives a soft 'Ha', as well. "Right. That would be a good course of action, if she wasn't the one who'd yelled." She abandons the fabric on her skirt, and leans back, digging her fingers into the sand in a claw-like way. "I just suggested that I may be more useful as Nanny, as I have for the past four Turns." If it's not clear from her tone that the idea was turned down, the sigh would probably give it away. "Course not."

Sam glances up quickly at the snorting and he frowns "She actually yelled at you? Well, I admit that I dont know her well, but I didnt think she was the type to yell at people. Strikes me as the type of person that can make hte most stubborn man on pern bend to her will with a single look. " Okay, so maybe a single glare. He considers a moment and seems confused "Wait a moment, I dont think I understnad fully. I thought that you were still tending to the little ones certain days of the week?"

"Yes," says Brenka, "I'm tending to the *very* little ones. Now *my* little ones." She'll happily take possession of the children formerly under her care. "But it doesn't matter. The subject is closed. For the next few months I'm stuck in this position." She pauses for a beat, before adding, "Not that I'm not grateful for the chance. Honour. But..." she sighs again, and it's not as forced so much as exhausted, "I'm really not sure if I'll make it through this time."

Sam listens and ahhs quietly to himself. After a moment "Do you have any free days to yourself as a candidate?" He inquires before going on "If so, maybe you could come fishing with me. Not that I'ld get ya to be tending all the lines mind you. Just the one. It's really not so bad. And I find it quite relaxin. Away from the noise and chaos of the weyr." Sam grins suddenly "I'll even bait your hooks for you and unhook anything ya catch. Ya never even have to touch the fish."

Brenka's smile is hidden in shadows, but she does sound appreciative when she says, "Alright. And yes, I do have a few, thankfully. I don't know when they are, though." She rises, then pushing off of the sandy beach. "I'll let you know, when I do, alright?" Her next sigh is tired, and she tugs again on that lock of hair. "I'm going back now. Thanks for listening, Sam. I do appreciate it."

Sam rises as Brenka does, smiling and offering a little bow "I shall be sure to have a pole ready for you then Brenka." As she starts to go he shifts his feet a bit "I um, would ya like me to escort you back up? Those steps can be tricky, more so at night...Or at least take this glow with you ." He bends down to retrieve said glow and offers it with a comical flourish and a grin.

Brenka laughs, just a little, though it's a tired and strained sound. "Sure," she says, accepting the glow. "And don't worry, I'll be alright. I'll see you tomorrow." With a little wave, she turns and heads back to the Weyr, using the glow to light her way.

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:20:35 GMT

Turned Down Flat
Brenka, Headwoman Lacey

Logfile from SouCon MUSH.

---| Resident Lounge |-----------------------------| Southern Weyr (#685) |---
Located in the heart of the crossing dorm wings, this spacious room is rectangular with a circular area in the middle. The high ceiling of this central area is vaulted and illuminated by a draping centerpiece of burnished brass with bowls holding a plethora of glows. Outside it's dark, with no light filtering in, here in the dead of night. A cooler spring breeze carries a subtle fragrance of the night flowers blooming in the jungles surrounding the Weyr, and the gentle sound of rain predominates.

Forming a loose lounge directly under three skylights are four plush couches of elegant black, ornamented with light and emerald green cushions that have been designed to look like the Weyr's emblem. Secluded areas are located along the outskirts of the room, including a 'screened' off area for the Headwoman and Steward of the Weyr. Other tables are also available, standing ready with inkwells and pens or for playing 'games'. The cavernous chamber offers a large enough environment that the sounds of laughter and merrymaking are drawn away to leave the more sultry areas peaceful.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although it's well after the dinner hour, Lacey sits behind her little screened area that is lit by glowlights. A stack of hides is perched on the edge of her desk and a much smaller stack sits to her right. Taking a file from the right, Lacey opens it with a sigh, rotates her shoulders and begins to read, muttering about poor penmanship.

Looking tired and filthy, Brenka walks into the lounge area from the WeyrHall. She pauses at the entrance, working to smooth her hair back into her 'tail. It's hopeless, and she quickly settles for pushing it behind her ears. Squaring her shoulders, she heads towards Lacey's little office area, clearing her throat when she gets there.

Lacey senses Brenka's approach before she hears the throat clearing, perhaps she saw a shadow. In any case, she glances up, notes the note and sighs a little sigh of relief. "Ah, not an assistant headwoman telling me we are out of something or that someone didn't show up for something." Noting the girl's appearance, she glances around, looking for something for the girl to sit on, in her dirty state. Finally, she gestures to an old blanket thrown over a chair. "Have a saat, but would you mind spreading the throw first? Less dust and muss that way?"

"Of course," replies Brenka promptly. She walks to the chair, and diligently moves the old blanket over any exposed surface before taking a seat. But it's not a comfortable, lounging position that she adopts, but one of more formal posture, perched at the end with her back straight. "Not an assistant headwoman," she says with a bit of a smile, "But I confess I did come to ask you a rather... well, a question."

Lacey quirks a brow at that and leans back in her chair, smiling her thanks at the former Nanny's thoughftulness. "Come to ask me a rather question? Usually that means a rather unusual, or a personal, or an odd or adifferent or a nosey question. I've got answers to them all." She's quick to shut the folder and places her folded hands on the folder for good measure. "What can I help you with?"

Brenka shifts, tucking one ankle behind the other. "An unusual and personal question, I suppose. Personal for me," she corrects quickly. There's another little smile, a brief glance to Lacey's face, and then she's finding something else to look at when she says, hesitantly, "It's about the Candidate chores. I was thinking, well.. I'm a few Turns older than a lot of the candidates, and since I've been a Nanny here for so long, I was just wondering... was there anyway I could just continue my duty as a Nanny, instead of the regular chores on the roster?" Her voice is full of hope, but also anxiety.

Lacey tucks a bit of her hair behind an ear, setting her writing tool down as well. Now the girl's got her full attention. As she listens on, she is sympathetic and tsks appreciatively at the right moment. "Oh, it can be difficult, can't it? Honestly though, you truly aren't one of the older candidates, you are at the perfect age, don't worry. You're not ancient at all." Beam! "I am sure you'll have no problems with the stamina to keep up with the chores, don't give it another thought, You'll do fine."

Whatever Brenka had been expecting, it obviously wasn't that. Startled out of her carefully poised "professionalism", her mouth forms a small 'o' as she frowns. "No," she says, shaking her head gently, "That's not what I meant. I just.. well, I'm a Nanny. I've been a Nanny for a long time now. Why can't I just keep doing that, instead of these other chores? I know why the out-of-Weyr candidates do them, since they have nothing else to do, but I've got a job. Wouldn't it be more," and here she pauses, glancing at the cieling briefly in a thoughtful look, "Efficient if I just worked as a Nanny?"

Lacey quirks a brow at that thought, the gives Brenka a very slow once over, from head to foot then back up again. "Oh I see.." Says she ever so quietly. "So, let me understand this..." Her fingers form a little steeple as she purses her lips thoughtfully. "You feel that you are ... well, somehow more .... talented then the other candidates? Or perhaps you are strong enough to toss a firestone sack already?" She gestures to a chest on the floor near her feet. "Let's see how you do with that? It's about the size of a sack you'd be lifting if you impressed..."

Brenka frowns, glancing from Lacey to the chest, and then Lacey again. There's a briefly puzzled look. "You're serious?" she asks. "And no, I don't think I'm special... I just think that I have a talent, and that I'd be more useful where I'm... trained." There's another quick pause, and she adds, "And I'm not throwing firestone sacks? At least, I haven't seen that on the chore roster."

Lacey smiles fondly at the nanny. "Of course not, firestone tossing is for weyrlings." Keeping her tone utterly conversational, without a hint of malice or censure, the headwoman asks. "Tell me ... why do you think we have candidates doing chores in all sections of the weyr? Just to keep you all busy?"

"Well," says Brenka, "Yeah. At least, that's sure what it feels like. Busy work to keep us busy and so that those not at the Weyr can be useful while they wait for the Hatching." It's a rather practiced answer, without hesitation, as if she's been giving this a lot of thought.

Lacey shakes her head. "It may feel that way, Brenka but you've been at the weyr long enough, you've seen how difficult the life of a rider is -- but you've only witnessed that hardship. Not neccesarily experienced it. It's not just busy work as you call it.... it's much more than that. For example, why do you think we have you cleaning hearths?"

"Because their dirty," says Brenka in a low mumble. But her official answer, once she's cleared her throat again, and re-straightened her shoulders, is, "Probably because it's an extreme upper-body workout." It's said rather glumbly.

Lacey shrugs. "Well, yes, that's part of it, it does help with upper body strength but you /are/' right. Because its dirty. And dusty and grimy and filthy. And one of the lowest of duties at the weyr." Reaching across, she flicks off a bit of ash that landed on the desk top. "And it's a job that needs to be done. And it's a job that no one is exempt from. I've scrubbed many a hearth in my day and I've never been a candidate."

Brenka shifts some, folding her fingers onto her knee. "But, so have I. And I've worked up from there. I've *earned* my spot as a Nanny," she stresses, "And now I'm back down at the bottom again." Which is, apparently, rather grimey.

Lacey's eyes narrow as she views the former nanny. Although she speaks quietly, she speaks intently and disapproval definitely edges each word and highlights her displeasure with the girl's attitude. "You dear Brenka, have /not/ earned anything. You have been given the privilege of standing on the sands as a candidate. Do you have any idea how many people acrosss Pern at this moment would be willing to scrub latrines for the rest of their days for such a chance as that?" She continues after a significant pause. "And you obviously did not learn the lessons of being a team player, serving the weyr in whatever way you can -- last time you stood. Perhaps this time you will - I can only hope. If you don't impress and you are teaching impressible minds that some jobs are beneath you as a nanny, then perhaps we should think of a reassignment for you, permanently."

Brenka opens and closes her mouth in quick succession, at a loss for words. She oggles Lacey just a bit, and her shoulders slump. "I didn't mean to imply..." she starts, but gives up and lets her words fade into silence. She shifts uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. "I apologize, ma'am," she finally says, respectful and quiet.

Lacey shakes her head. "Yes you are doing basic chores but we've harper apprentices, journeyman smiths, stablehands, infirmary workers, trained cooks - all standing with you. We ask you to set aside you titles and to learn --- and to become stronger -- and to become more aware of just how hard the life of a rider truly is. Mucking the stables? You think that is bad? Muck after a dragon three times the size of the largest runner you've ever seen. Cleaning the hearths? Imagine cleaning out the ashpits where the dragons reguritate ash after a fall. Working with the aunties and uncles? You learn diplomacy and patience, two vital skills when you are dealing with cotholders and holders on sweeps. I could go on..."

But Brenka won't. Her jaw is resolutely shut, as if to make sure she doesn't slip up more than she has. She nods her head appropriatly, periodically meeting, and looking away from, Lacey's gaze. At least, she says, "No, ma'am. I understand what you're saying." She unfolds her fingers, and places her hands on either side of the chair, as if to rise. "I won't mention it. And I apologize for taking up your time."

Lacey shakes her head. "My time is yours..." Looking at the glowlights and the hidework in front of her, she grins sheepishly. "And the weyrs for that matter. I /know/ it's hard, Brenka. Trust me, I know. But trust us as well that we aren't doing this to keep you all busy. You are all helping our weyr run smoothly hopefully, we are giving you something in return -- a better understanding of the weyr?"

Brenka stands anyways, though her fingers linger on the arms of the chair. She lets out a long sigh. "I suppose," she decides, cautiously. "I will attempt to approach my chores with a more," thoughtful pause, "Open mind."

Lacey grins wryly. "Good, and just think, in a few months time from now, you might be sharing that mind with a lifemate?" Reaching into a box on the floor by her desk, she tosses something Brenka's way. "Here, I just received this scented sweetsand, a new shipment. Go have a long hot soak."

There's a pained look, completely involuntary, at the word 'month', but Brenka tries to cover it up with a quick smile. "Might," she says quietly, catching the little bag. "Thanks. I think.. that sounds like a good idea." She hesitates briefly, reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and adds quickly, "Good night," before hurrying from the little office area.

Lacey sighs, stretches and returns to her own duties, smirking to herself.

OOC

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 19:19:36 GMT

The same Hiatus that effected me on other chars, has indeed effected Brenka. But, the computer is now working, and I've been able to recreate my lovely Nanny, so she is back in action once more! Yay Brenka!

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 07:52:46 GMT

OOC: Until recently, I completely forgot I even had this journal for Brenka (I know, I know, very bad of me) I'm not sure if I'll have time to utilize it, but I'll definitely look into putting it to use!

Day 23, Month 9, Turn 7 of the 11th Pass

Thu, 18 May 2006 22:37:10 GMT

Met another dragonrider today. I suppose I should get used to it, seeing as I now live in a Weyr. But the sight of them (all clad in Wher-hide in the middle of Spring!) always surprises me. They were so rare to see at home, even when they rode Sweeps. Nemar's and all... anyways. She seemed nice enough. Her name is Gwen, and she's a bluerider (but I've already forgotten her dragons name! How shameful).

Either way, she came in while I was watching the children in the Courtyard, with a bucket of snow. Snow! Can you believe it? I never thought the first time I'd see snow it would be in a bucket. Rather unimpressive, if you ask me. There was another man there, who apparently had experience in snow... he said something about sledding. Sounds fun to me! Gwen promised to take me to the Barrior range, so I could play in the snow. I'll either have to get a day off, or figure out a way to bring the littles with me. Maybe just the eldest three? Hm.

Once again, however, my illusion about dragonriders has been... well, dashed. That image that stories put into your head about the brave Dragonrider and his mighty beast... championing Pern and riding fearlessly towards Thread... it's beginning to look more like a child's tale, than truth. All three riders I've meet seem rather... far from that ideal. Fiora, Kendall, and now Gwen. Much too happy. I didn't get to see Fiora that much... Kendall I caught sniffing flowers, and Gwen... well, I just never thought I'd see a dragonrider making snow treats... Of course, Kendall and Gwen are blueriders... maybe that has something to do with it? (Didn't mother warn me about female blueriders? Or something like that.. hm.)

I'm going to treck over to the Crafthall to visit Bestefany tomorrow morning, before I take over care of the littles. I'll bring her something from the Weyr stores, that ought to cheer her up. I think she's a bit miffed that I left her at the crafthall (but I DID need the job. All that sitting around made my head hurt!).

Oh! I should jot down a bit about those I'm watching. It'll help me learn their names. I've got three boys and five girls. The boys are: Gerun, Tramer, and Alanol, and the girls are Talisha, Kisheta, Giella, Berdette and Amaria. Amaria and Alanol are siblings (and Amaria's my littlest, being only three turns. She's got the most adorable blonde head of curls, and the bluest eyes! She'll be a heart breaker). Gerun's the one who tried to pair three socks together. I have the funniest feeling he'll be a bronzerider someday... maybe that's just my pride speaking.

Listen to me! I'm going on like a mother, bleh! Still far too young for my own children, thank Faranth!

IC Journal of Brenka: Second Day at Southern

Thu, 18 May 2006 02:20:21 GMT

Oh my. All those tales I got told about Dragonriders and Weyrs when I was younger? Well, they don't hold a candle to the real deal. I never knew dragons were so... unique? I'd always thought they were a bit like runners or canines... different colors, but mostly the same beasts. Apparently they have thoughts and ideas all their own. But, I guess it makes sense, them being so big and all.

Speaking of big, the Weyr is HUGE! I've gotten lost countless times. Thankfully Fiora's said she'll draw me up a map. I'm almost ashamed to say I'll need it. But I suppose it's better to look like an idiot that to BE an idiot, and get lost all the time.

I had my first romp with the little ones under my care. I've got eight, just as Headwoman Lacey said. Three boys, five girls. Mostly four and five, but I have the cutest little three-turn old girl. She's just darling. Had them pairing socks today... ah, I've missed caring for children! They might run me ragged, but they're just so cute, and darling, and sweet! The little girl gave me a kiss on the cheek. Sweet, considering she just poured her juice on me. Meh.

All in all, I rather like Weyrlife so far! And it's within walking distance to the Unified Crafthall, so I can still check up on Bestefany, like mother wants. Speaking of... I really ought to write them a letter...