The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by Dallaney.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction
are copyright© 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern® is
registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with
permission.
Candidate Barracks
Stone platforms hewn from the volcanic rock line the perimeter of the room,
each one covered with a cot's mattress for young bones, and a few coverlets
according to choice. The bedstuffs appear to be sinking into the stone, the
platforms going gradually hollow from generations of anxious bodies resting
on them. The walls of the chamber are shot through with obsidian streaks from
long-ago volcanic activity that writhe over the surfaces like striations on
an egg. Natural darkness is lifted from the cavern with glowbaskets
everywhere that provide a cheerful light to welcome weary bodies to bed.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Desdemona, Lime, and Culpa.
You see a large basket, Clingy, Kabamit's Cot, Dallan's Cot, Mikani's Cozy
Corner Cot, Aline's Cot of Wonders, Solandat's Sloppy Cot, Cozy Cot, Saine's
Cot, Aire's Place to Crash, Nitram's Messy Cot, Ulerae's Under-the-Pillow
Utopia, and Kora's-Home-Away-From-Home here.
Saine and Aire are here.
From here you can go:
Bowl
Dallaney is flopped out on her cot, belly flat against a snowy pillow, legs
kicking out at the wall behind the cot. It's night, and a quiet night at
that, but candidates can still be found passing in and out of the barracks.
Dallaney
Gaunt, Dallan is, grown into a gawky adolescent sturdiness. A mass of
indifferent mahogany curls crisps defiantly from behind her ears, huddling to
straggle over sharp eyebrows that cap equally hazel eyes in a thin face. Her
nose is sharp, her chin well-defined; dark brown cheeks and lips naturally
pursed make her no pleasure to look upon. Uncertain growth has given the
slender limbs wiry strength, with a simple agility of motion, but she remains
shorter than most others her age.
A robe of light brown, barely feminine, covers most of her long-legged, spare
shape, sending any hints of figure into obscurity. Of Igen make but
self-styled, the linen material sheers ungracefully just above bony kneecaps,
hitched up in folds to allow easier wear and lighter travel. An ungainly, if
quaint, umber belt winds around her waist, binding cloth to flesh and holding
up the robe in ragged manner, keeping it dipping into the dark sandals that
flicker out far below its hem.
Higher than thou: one white cord sits defiantly on her shoulder.
She is awake and looks alert.
Aire is making the appearance of sewing at her robe. In truth, it's nearly
finished, and any sewing is just an excuse to do something. She might even be
pulling out stitches, a la Persephone. Taking a discreet survey of the
barracks, she tucks her robe back into the box under her bed and scoots
nonchalantly toward the peephole, hands tucked in her pockets. Just act
cool... natural...
Aire
Sharp but round - bony but sculpted - Aire's face is still undeniably that of
a kidlet's. Eyes sparkle like sun off white-capping waves - a mischevious
sparkle, to be sure - with a slight upward lilt and a sensible ammount of
framing lashes. Thin nose leads to thin lips, the latter a cheerful cherry
red against her skin's rather conspicuous lack of tanned hue. Close-cropped
curls cap Aire's head with their dark auburn swirls, patiently groomed into a
ring of spit-curls around the edges of face and yet are subject to such
abuses that they require constant attention to stay that way.
For one so short, Aire's chosen quite a bit of fabric to drape her boney form
with. Empasizing the natural emaciation is a tank-sleeved tunic, hanging from
her narrow shoulders and drooping at the neck to reveal a prominent
collarbone. Faded yellow bunches around belted pant, spilling over one side
and hanging about sharp, straight hips hidden in the bags of sturdy,
multi-pocketed trousers - small enough in the waist, they lack reciprocally
in inseam, stopping somewhere below her knees and showing off stick-like
calves. Closest to the groud, sky lurks, in the form of ankle-socks proudly
showing through the fastening straps of sandals; a fashion statement, perhaps?
A single loop remains, but this of fresh white, dubbing her dragon-poo
shoveler and tuber peeler until the eggs hatch.
Aire may look a few Turns younger than she is, but mannerisms and general
moodiness suggest blooming adoloscence.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Unctuous
Aire must be better at that sneaking thing than she appeared to be -- Dallan
doesn't even spot the brown-haired girl and her foray. A kid whose cot is
nearer the nook does, however, and sticks a skinny arm out in mock
interception, a silly grin plastered over his features.
Aire just looked at you.
Aire glares at the obstacle in her path, and the person it belongs to, with
the Eye of Death. Or at least, some suitably intimidating glance. "Excuse
me," she states crisply, attempting to duck under the arm to the best of her
short-kid abilities. There's a brief hint of anxiety - surely this may be
noticed.
Noticed by whom? The skinny arm, which probably has a lanky youngster at the
end of it to match, retracts briefly, while the grin flashes still. From the
other side of the room, a harsh contralto rings out from Dallan's cot; the
boy happens to be one of her charges. "And where're /you/ going?"
"Painting," Aire informs Dallan - or at least her voice - politely, arms
folding across her chest in a position of vague defiance. She's got no bones
to pick, but she's no sheep either. "Did you want to come along?" is her
courteous offer, delivered with a challenging eyebrow arch.
Dallaney ignores that youngster beside Aire. He's looking fast asleep at that
moment, anyway. There's a thump, a shuffle: singed feet into sandals, and
Dallan's shuffling up to Aire with an echo of that challenge in her strut.
"I've seen what they call 'art' in there," she declares with a sweep of her
arm. "You goin' to add to it?"
Saine has disconnected.
Aire looks up - a fair ammount up, too - at Dallaney and lifts one shoulder in
a shrug. "I suppose. You could come, too, and teach 'em a few things, if you
don't think it's below you." It's all carefully worded, of course, a few
insults woven in among her gracious statements.
Dallaney can hardly be older than the other weyrbrat; the boyish girl tilts
shoulder to shoulder, gaping her lips to show a slice of too-white teeth.
"Don't know a thing about painting--haven't tried either." And she isn't shy
about it, too.
"New experience, then," Aire volunteers, shrugging again as she tries to edge
away. No reason she can't go, if Dallaney doesn't want to, right? "It's
something to do besides chores and sewing. I'm so tired of squinting, I don't
think I'll ever see far again." Eyes crinkle as she speaks of them, blinking
at her fellow candidate.
"Oh, the harpers made us paint. Didn't take to it, though." This Dallan says
slowly, with greasy fingers going up to rub 'cross equally greasy hair. "You
could've got one of the Weavers to do it for you." There's that nice
candidate in there, too, and that other Weaver-girl, the mousy one.
Meanwhile, she squirms quickly--onward--down, peering into the peephole.
May has connected.
Aire sucks lightly on her bottom lip, vaguely grossed out by Dallaney's
unctous qualities. "Well, if you don't like, I won't force you to come. I
just thought I'd like to look at it, see what's been added and whatnot."
Again the self-effacing shrug and the attempt to slink away. "Never thought
of that," she admits honestly, cocking her head respectfully at Dallan.
Dallaney and Aire are near the barracks' peephole, the ex-messenger leaning
into the cranny. A boy slumps on his cot beside, light snores rising to
perfume the night. Who said she didn't want to-- "Yeah." Not one for
conversation, Dallan is. "C'mon down, if you're coming." She's already gone.
Candidate's Peephole
Immediately the temperature increases as you slip into this small nook off the
main chamber of the barracks, folding tightly enough around to cause
claustrophobia. The only light is the dim glow from behind, and a single
stray beam of light that slips through the thick walls from the space beyond.
The hole admitting it is meticulously smoothed, no hard edges left to
irritate sensitive eyes.
You may 'view' the Sands, and 'view <object>' to take a closer look.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Fredo.
From here you can go:
Tunnel
Aire shuffles in from Candidate Barracks.
Cedric wakes up from his nap.
Aire trots after Dallaney, none too happy about having a companion/critic in
her first artistic venture. "This is it, huh?" are her first words about the
place, flapping her shirt ostentatiously as she steps into the heat - for
it's really not /that/ much hotter in there than the barracks.
Dallaney crept through the gap without difficulty, but chose to drop into a
crouch immediately upon entering the heat-blasted corner. To soak up the
heat, y'know. Above, on the walls, there're the spots of painting in
perceptible shapes, even a dragon somewhere in the mix. "This is it," the
kid confirms for Aire. "Paints over here, brushes somewhere in there." Aire
can start.
Aire wanders off in the general direction indicated by Dallaney, peering
around for brushes and paint with some confusion before she spots it. "So,"
she begins, can of orangey-brown in hand, "where should I start?" Burn umber.
It's a lovely color, no?
May walks in from Candidate Barracks.
May peeks in and looks cautiously around, last time she went into a little
tunnel she didnt come out for a long time, "You guys sure its safe in here?"
Umber's the colour Aire picked, approximately the shade of Dallan and the sand
beneath. "Start from the hole here," she suggests, and that's when May
arrives through that spot. "Quit blocking the light." It's getting dark
where Dallan is squatting, especially when that errant beam doesn't hit her
eyes.
May
A great bush of fiery red hair curls in tiny circlets above her slender
forehead often wrinkled in consternation. Beneath thin brows shine her
father's bright grey eyes and a petite button nose, freckled cheeks and
rounded chin; freckled, too, her slender arms often just reach out and take
anything she wants. Strong and sturdy she is looking more and more like her
mother every day, long legs bearing her with uncommon grace and agility.
The flame of red curls is complimented by the foresty greens of May's simple
sun dress. Thin straps curve over slender shoulders with green firelizards
embroidered in mirthful play. Those same mischievous creatures also play
along the high waist line ribbon that gently circles just below a developing
breast and ties at May's upper back in an elaborate bow. From there the soft
fabric flows in simple folds to a few inches above her knees. Lengthy legs
can then be admired down to her forest green enshrouded feet, the left
slipper accented by a simple golden anklet with an emerald eyed firelizard
pendant.
May now proudly displays her all white knot in a single loop. Thats right,
Maybean is a candidate.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Carrying:
Badge Imi
Bab
May is better by leaps and bounds, all the bruising is gone and the scratchs
on her arm are only pink in certain places. The majority of her cuts have all
healed completely, excepting the still pink cut above her right brow.
Cedric goes ::between::
Aire isn't quite sure what she's going to make of the color she's selected,
and therefore makes random, swirling shapes. A few drip, from too much pain
applied, but all in all, it's rather sucessful. "Is it safe /anywhere/ near
the Hatching Sands?" she asks of May, "If the queen doesn't get you, the heat
will."
Dallaney sneaks in a slight, toothy, smile. "Yeah, the queen might hear us."
She drops her voice to a whisper. "But this place is great for hearing
things." Things like secrets and gossip between -this- Smith and -that-
Weaver, for example.
May bites her lip, but continues in, peering up at the cealing as if it might
fall in on her. She absently snags a tub of paint, not even looking at the
color, and moves out of the light, "Queens dont eat people... the heat I can
stand...." its those, other things, that bother her, "Its awful small in here
isnt it?" brow furrowed she looks around.
"Is it really?" Aire asks of Dallaney without any feigned intrest - it's the
genuine article, hear. Gossip is her sort of game; 'information', anyhow.
"Are you... claustet... clauset? Closet-phobic, or whatever that is, May?"
This, too, merits real concern.
"Good for colouring, and gossip, yes," Dallan chips in again, nodding her head
so that the mahogany curls jitter and shift on her forehead. "Bring some
glows in here, if you're not afraid of /her/," and there's a shifty jerk in
the direction of the hatching sands. "I'm not." Just so they know.
May peers around and shivers, "I never was before..." she still looks rather
uncomfortable, and kinda inches twords the door trying to get her mind off
that sinking feeling, "Gossip huh? I wonder if George ever talked to Sol..."
theres a little morsel of gossip.
Aire peers up at Dallan with some vague respect; either the girl's bluffing,
or she's genuinely unafraid. Stupid or brave, it's a good deal better than
Aire. At May's words, her expression suddenly resembles that of a cat who's
caught the canary. "Oh, I think that's taken care of," she states smugly,
swirling and twirling away on the wall.
May is temporary distracted by Aires answer to her question, enough to smile a
little, "Really?" but that sinking feeling grips her again and she looks
around, "Is it getting smaller in here?" its hot yes, but not overly so, and
little beads of sweat are on the verge of tricking down May's forehead.
"Glows... yea... Ill go get some glows. Sayurith is nothing, Lady wont let
her hert me."
Dallaney shrugs -- it's easy to do, that sliding onto one shoulder and off the
other. George and Sol she doesn't know. "The Queen can't get in here," she
points out, in a tone a notch below her usual. "We have glows. Saw Heida
bring in some this morning."
Aire goes home.
May all but drops her paint and brush that she wasnt using and nods, "Glows,
Ill get glows." she'll get out of there is what she'll do!
May walks toward Candidate Barracks.
(Culpa) May comes out from the peephole simply sweating and looking a little
more on the pale side than usual. She takes a deep breath once out of the
tunnel and just kinda stands there a moment.
(Culpa) That boy, the one whose cot is nearest the peephole, flips over to
pillow his head on his elbow, and emits a particularly large snore.
(Culpa) Solandat startles awake. Who, me? Asleep?
(Culpa) May jumps! Squeeking in typical frightened, jumpie May fashion. Heart
racing she stairs at the snoring candidate as if he had just bitten her or
something. She looks out to the rest of the cavern and then says, "Glows... I
have to get glows."
(Culpa) Solandat drifts off into daydreams.
(Culpa) Chalis has connected.
(Culpa) There's a covered glowbasket hanging just above the boy's head, and
May might purloin that if she chooses. There're others too, scattered about
the caverns, casting their shadows on the late sleepers and tickling the
platforms' edges.
(Culpa) May peers at the glows above the boy and considers taking them, but
does she /really/ want to go back in there? Shes not so sure... maybe she can
go get some from the headwoman, it should take good and long to find the lady.
(Culpa) May looks back, but then Dallen might be getting a little impatient.
And May /is/ still standing in the entrance, probably blocking light.
Candidate Barracks
Stone platforms hewn from the volcanic rock line the perimeter of the room,
each one covered with a cot's mattress for young bones, and a few coverlets
according to choice. The bedstuffs appear to be sinking into the stone, the
platforms going gradually hollow from generations of anxious bodies resting
on them. The walls of the chamber are shot through with obsidian streaks from
long-ago volcanic activity that writhe over the surfaces like striations on
an egg. Natural darkness is lifted from the cavern with glowbaskets
everywhere that provide a cheerful light to welcome weary bodies to bed.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Desdemona, Lime, Culpa, Aerieki, and Cedric.
You see a large basket, Clingy, Kabamit's Cot, Dallan's Cot, Mikani's Cozy
Corner Cot, Aline's Cot of Wonders, Solandat's Sloppy Cot, Cozy Cot, Saine's
Cot, Aire's Place to Crash, Nitram's Messy Cot, Ulerae's Under-the-Pillow
Utopia, and Kora's-Home-Away-From-Home here.
Saine and May are here.
From here you can go:
Bowl
May likes doing that. Blocking the light that is-- Dallan scrambles out from
the peephole, dripping sand from her robes, a streak of paint splattered on
one hand. Her impatient query comes first, though. "What's taking you so
long?"
Saine has disconnected.
May jumps again, though no squeeking this time, "Um... uh... well.. I was
gonna get those glows, but hes sleeping." slender finger points from glows to
snoring boy. Its not a good excuse, but its viable.
Chalis has arrived.
Chalis comes home.
Chalis has disconnected.
"But there's more than that one around," Dallan points to the other glows
around the main chamber. "Over there, and to your left, too." Not that
May's looking very sensible at the moment.
May looks around and gives a simple, quiet, "Oh." she shuffles over to the one
on her left to grab it, "Sorry." its rather amazing actually, May... timid.
Those that know her well would more than likely be gawking in amazement.
"What's wrong?" Dallan asks, rather hoarsely, really. But no one said
anything about sensitivity-- "Do you have that closet thing Ay-re talked
about?" she tags along after May.
May frowns, giving the same answer she did earlier, "I never did before..."
she looks to the tunnel and halts though, not wanting to go back, "Whats it
like? closet-phobia?" she looks over at Dallen as if she would know.
"Heard that it makes you afraid of small places. Like mines and stuff."
Dallan replies, easing slightly closer to peer at the glows. "But there
aren't many around if you don't look for them," she adds, grimacing. "Try
again?"
May takes a deep breath and nods, "Might as well." she looks to the tunnel and
shivers, but then shakes it off, shes never been afraind of anything her
whole life! Shes not going to let some silly cave get the better of her!
"Might be a problem for miners," Dallan opines, "It's just a hole, anyway.
How scary can that be?" She strides towards the entrance, grabbing the boy's
glowbasket to hold above it. "C'mon."
May gets a determined look on her face and dives right in, her own glow basket
firmly clenched in her hands.
May walks toward Candidate's Peephole.
Dallaney simply dangles in from the entranceway, tunnelling her words into the
peephole. "How is it?"
Pestilence opens his eyes, turning deathly possibilties over in his mind.
May shivers as she stands in the center of the cavern and looks around,
"Umm..." it all starts to feel like its closing in on her, like the room is
compressing and any moment its going to all come crashing down and trap her
once more. He knees go a little weak and she tries to take a breath, but the
air suddenly seems thin, "Its... getting smaller.." she swallows hard, trying
to overcome the sinking fear, but she cant. She drops the glows, the little
balls of light spilling all over the floor, and darts for the exit, "I have
to get out of here!!"
Dallaney ducks in, grabbing for May's shoulder to help her propulsion. Out,
this time. The poor glows, sprinkling their uncertain light, can be tidied
later.
Solandat lopes coltishly in from Candidate Barracks.
May almost rushes past Solandat in her haste to be out of this tiny space,
looking rather pale and frightened.
May walks toward Candidate Barracks.
Solandat lopes coltishly in from Candidate's Peephole.
Dallaney keeps up with May by pure chance. "There?" she points towards the
barracks' exit. "More--air."
May comes out from the tunnel once more at a practical run, and puts a good
distance between her and that entrance. Panting she sits down on the floor
and then inhales deeply. Dallens suggestion is nodded to and she scrambles to
her feet, "yes!"
May walks toward Northeastern Bowl.
Northeastern Bowl
Sun-baked sand has scoured everything smooth; heat has been unleashed to full
throttle during the day with little respite. The only shade comes from the
tall sides of the hollowed volcano walls that the sand has beaten against to
form interesting patterns. Even in the cooler nights the heat from the
hatching grounds can be felt. From here you can see the living cavern in the
northwestern area of the bowl that is past the central bowl, glintings of the
south-bound lake and even catch glimpse of the feedings grounds over in the
southwest.
A plateau rises just to the north and the entrances to the weyrleaders' weyrs
can be glimpsed along with the sheen of metallic hide as occupants sun
themselves.
You see NiftyNifty and Igen Candidate Terror Egg here.
May is here.
The following dragons are here: Yinxiath
Now out, now free, May flings her arms out to the open air and then turns and
lays on the ground on her back, the open sky her comfort as she smiles and
takes further deep breaths, her panting slowed as her heart does the same.
It's wider out here, more spread out, and Dallan indicates the curved volcanic
walls as they exit the barracks proper. "Don't know how, but you seem to
have that closet-fear," she states without ceremony, rambling a ways off.
May shivers one last time and sits up, head shaking, "That was.... odd. I
mean, if felt like the room was crashing down on me and the air just whooshed
all out and I couldnt breathe!" theres that shiver again. She looks up to her
fellow candidate, "Did it seem like that to you at all?"
Dallaney turns back, lowering to a crouch: it's easier to watch the girl from
that height. Arms crossed over knobby knees, the tomboy merely shakes her
head in response. "I prefer it out here, but it's okay in there too." She
pauses, to scrutinise for a while. "Why--what's there to be scared of?"
May wraps her own skinny arms around her knees as she pulls them to her chest,
"I dont know... I dont know why it felt like that. But it was..." her voice
lowers a little, "It was terrifying." she shakes her head, then furrows her
brow, angry at herself for being so afraid, "Your right, its just a silly
cave, its not..." she hesitates again, then reaffirms more for herself, "Its
/not/ going to cave in on me." she looks tword sthe candidate barracks, as if
wanting to go back in, but the thought still doesnt sound at /all/ appealing.
So she makes an excuse, "Im.... Im going to go find one of those healers and
see if there is something wrong with me." yea, that will keep her out of
there for a while.
Dallaney pulls her chin in, and scrambles backwards a bit. Softly, even.
"Kay."
May quietly falls asleep in J'inta arms. (disconnected)