The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by D'ney.
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.
(Nhaeth) [-] Olexath rumbles over across the link. << Come flower
hunting
with Miyu and I? >>
(Nhaeth) Olexath sees: Nhaeth stirs from his spinner-dreams with a splash of
smoothness and gaiety. << Flowers? Desert--flowers? >> The threads of
memory glimmer and swing in a mysterious breeze.
(Nhaeth) [-] Olexath oozes his voice on over. << Aye, desert flowers. Miyu
thinks there might be some. >>
(Nhaeth) Olexath sees: Nhaeth accedes to her opinion, and yours, raising the
gossamer wings of his imaginings to trail the expanse of Igen sky beneath and
below him. << There? >>
Nhaeth has arrived.
Nhaeth slinks toward Weyrling Grounds.
(Nhaeth) Sky Above Weyrling Grounds
(Nhaeth) [-] Olexath slips a dot of a flowers and sand into the picture. <<
There. >>
(Nhaeth) Sky High Above Southeast Bowl
(Nhaeth) Olexath sees: Nhaeth eases -- intrudes? -- a shade's web to delve
the depths. << Oh, >> he voices, in letters almost physical in nature.
(Nhaeth) Sky Above Lower Range
(Nhaeth)
(Nhaeth) Abraded mountains hardly afford a considerable amount of shade to the
ground below that bakes beneath the day's heat and is numbed by the night's
chill. A sandy border lurks within the west centered by a border of
blackened rock that eventually leads into the calm, soothing river in the
east. Dotted by cacti and flora the mountainous area of the north gives way
to the deserted plains of the south, the forceful winds that split the two
enough to cause trouble for any rider, inexperienced or experienced.
(Nhaeth)
(Nhaeth) The following dragons are here: Olexath and Miyusherath
(Nhaeth) From here you can go:
(Nhaeth) Central Range Igen Weyr Rim Central Plains
(Nhaeth) Badlands Riverside Lower Ranges
(Nhaeth) Olexath bugels a hello to Nhaeth as he flies about on the drafts
comming off the weyr.
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath bugles a greeting to Nhaeth as she soars about waiting
for the flower hunting to begin.
(Nhaeth) Nhaeth strokes the wind into the range's tip, skidding a little upon
the range's new thermals. Olexath is greeted with a replying bugle;
Miyusherath merely watched for a while as he hurriedly tacks and veers, wings
jolted askew.
(Nhaeth) Inky dollops of dusty rose salmon coalesce the creases of his vast
expanse of seasoned black cherry hide, cluttering into gangly extremities
seeped in sepia before vanishing beneath a facade of dusky darkness. Sleek
sheets of lengthy mocha-washed wings drizzled with an ethereal edge of frosty
pink coral veins engulf him, cluttering the smooth, rounded ridges that bud
from his elongated neck and rosewood headknobs, leaving only a whim of the
large, expressive eyes that light his nervous triangular head. Hints of deep
well metallicy limn his soot-smudged physique, creating golden glimpses that
overshadow the disproportions and discrepancies and glitter the lengthy
starscape frame from rich hazelnut tail to clever ebon talons with heroic
motes of succulent, suffering incandescence.
(Nhaeth) Leather as brown as his dark hide winds over his bony length,
whorling patterns where the ridges shrink into nothing and girding his
underbelly's frail jet.
(Nhaeth) Nhaeth is 1 Turn, 8 Months, and 2 Days old.
(Nhaeth) Riotous varicolor flaunted nigh too bold upon her tapestried hide,
the darkness of a depthless ivy backdrop counters the brilliance that flows
over her racer-lean form. Woven slivers of spattered gold light draw taut the
threaded veins of her wings, hemming in striking lime main and fingersails,
undershading to moody plum on the innermost sheets; Egyptian kohl enhances a
more subdued feline expression, verdigris paint about her mature, tilted
gaze, trailing lines sketched thin across regal cheekbones and eloquent
headknobs, into delicate, curved neckridges flooded with intense prisms of
light. A river gone dry, aridity heralds bone-white upon her coiled tail,
Nile-lush shadows demarcating the line between upper and lower, abandoning
the deep verdancy of her back to wallow in jungle darkness upon her barren
midriff.
(Nhaeth) Wave after wave of muted shimmery citron clash with the brilliant
shades of passionate cyan; mingling together in a fervent exchange of pure
and utter physical adoration for one another. Splashing up in vivid color,
gliding ever so perfectly around the dark verdant consumed neck of the wearer
of these straps. A bright silvery flaxen buckle is attached at one of the
sides, fitting perfectly with the rest of the colors on both dragon and
leathers. White gold padding peeks out from places, perhaps those are the
places that bug the wearer the most, perhaps just to make the straps most
comfortable for the young draconic owner.
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath is 6 Turns, 5 Months, and 11 Days old.
(Nhaeth) Calm, collected, and regal, very queenly. Adorned with wisdom beyond
her turns, although quiet happy to spend all of her waking life with her
perfect chosen one: Ka're.
(Nhaeth) Bluesteel and ice chisel power the gleaming sapphire purity of his
intrepid bulk with metallic scintillations of light that shimmer into rime at
the very edges of the transparent icicles cresting into neckridges along his
back and neck. Crackling upwards to a hoary fan of brow ridges, a
frost-splashed window of a mask across crystalline eyes and a broad,
strong-jawed head, the tundra ridges sweep downward, too, into a muscular
tail glimmering to the spade in a glistening of frozen cobalt. Wings whipped
in gunmetal gleamings encase all, their brushed turquoise sails bursting
against crystalline spars in an edged floe of lustrous chill that dissolves
into the heated steel of undaunted hindquarters.
(Nhaeth) Freshly oiled, nearly glimmering straps, wind their way around
Olexath's icy neck. Fastening infront across his muscular chest, with a
silver ring that throws off every glint of light that dare nears it's
polished surface. Rider is held inplace by a buckle that nearly matches the
sparkle of the ring. Straps have been made beltlike, to be let in and out
with ease, to accomidate the blue's ever changing size.
(Nhaeth) Olexath is 1 Turn, 8 Months, and 2 Days old.
(Nhaeth) Olexath slips past Miyu, mindvoice sliping out to her and his
clutchmate. << Shall we start then? >>
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath just looked at you.
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath eyes Nhaeth for a moment as she carefully strokes her
wing daintly, her mindvoice slips out like a wave. <<I'm ready.>>
(Nhaeth) Nhaeth catches up with the buffeting breezes somewhat, spindly shape
straightening forcibly in the air, wingtips crooking slightly, awkwardly. <<
How-- how can we find flowers? >>
(Nhaeth) Olexath seems rather amused at his two friends eyeing eachother and
rumbles in the somewhat silence. << Let's just start flying. Keep out an
eye for anything flowerlike. >>
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath seems amused at Nhaeth who is doesn't know how to find
flowers. <<You look for anythign flowerlike>> Well okay so basicly it was
what Olexath just said but she catches an up draft looking for any signs of
flowers.
(Nhaeth) Nhaeth /is/ flying, snagging thermals in between tail and winghooks
and gamely rowing along, albeit with an occasional wrong turn of 'sail that
sends him gliding obliquely off course. The desert skies are beautiful to
him, even with the whipping sandstorm sweeping the plains below their
collective shadows. Onward he goes, in valiant search, a sight quite spoilt
by the drooping head he drops to spy flowers. << Go lower? I cannot see
very far. >>
(Nhaeth) Olexath rumbles a bit while he flies about. << We must get away from
the weyr to find the interesting ones. >> With that he tilts his wings off
to one side and starts away from the weyr.
(Nhaeth) Miyusherath's majestic figure seems to freeze in time and space
succinctly before the bitter obscurity of light and life draws her verdant
figure within the glacial place of ::between::.
(Nhaeth) Nhaeth cants a glance at their Weyr, a longing look that lasts as
long as his snout is twitched that way; he swings back ponderously, swoops
down in Olexath's wake, and off they go for those delicate plants of the
desert.