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.
Weyrling Grounds
When in use by a class of Weyrlings, the Weyrlings' training ground area is
often busy with Weyrling pairs employed in practice drills or relaxing. The
air space overhead can be a danger zone to those not used to the antics that
young pairs tend to engage in, often seeming crowded as young dragonets test
their wings. The ground area seems spacious, never being quite as cramped as
the area overhead. Well-worn paths in the packed sand show the take-offs and
landings that many Turns have dug. The southeast section of the bowl is
northwest from here and in the southeastern direction is where the Weyrling
pairs call 'home'.
Betha, Echo, Halis, and Sh'lor are here.
The following dragons are here: Muppeth, Llywith, Murath, Caedmith, Kezasuth,
Olexath, and Remorth
From here you can go:
Lake Weyrling Barracks
Betha scoops up the knot, "That weyrling has some sort of problem...either
it's her or her dragon...I've talked to somebody else and they felt that Echo
has some sort of problem going on. I'll try my best to get to the bottom of
it Sh'lor."
D'ney stumps out of the barracks warily, hands tucked behind hips, a languid
sway marking the end of every third step. She's tracing some talon-worn
path, skirting the clumps of riders.
Sh'lor nods, turning his head slightly towards that part of the weyr where his
own ledge, and dragon reside. "Mmmm. It's authority. Prove to her,
perhaps, whateever point it is she wants proven -and I doubt even she knows
what it is - and she'll fall into line. In her own style. For now, though,
I more than anyone seem to be authority, so I'm to be defied at any cost.
Eventually, perhaps, her intelligence will win out, and she'll realise she
only damages herself." Somehow, though, Sh'lor souhds dubious. Echo'd
probably do it anyway. A shake of his head, though, and ice blue eyes are
lifted to the other weyrlings. "D'ney, how goes Nhaeth?"
Halis lifts herself out of her own little world. D'ney's about? Hey look,
she is. Fellow ling gets a wave and a smile but not much else comes from
Halis' direction as she goes back to her thoughts.
D'ney doesn't startle, really. Does a good job of looking unsurprised, at any
rate. "He's okay. Eating well and sleeping well." She was trying to stay
invisible too; a moving foot stills before it can skid away. Quite slowly,
with decisive glances to each rider and weyrling. "How--are--you?"
Betha nods, "Hopefully." Turns briefly to the others weyrlings and catches
D'ney, skirting about, "If you would excuse me Weyrsecond, I see a lost
weyrling in need of a lesson...mating lesson..I think." She turns briefly
and says to D'ney, "Hey there D'ney. You up to a lesson?"
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth with warning tones --((I would suggest you tell your
rider to salute my rider and Sanath's rider....My rider is on the rampage.))--
/Mating/ lesson? No, of course not. "What's there to learn?" D'ney blurts,
while off-kilter, her salute comes late, accompanied by face wrinkling. Not
exactly military-style, but it will have to do.
Betha returns the weyrling's salute, "Well, if you know about sex...not much
more...save from seeing it from a dragon's perspective...Before you
impressed what did you do, D'ney?"
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth surely did -- the images twist slow and snaking
across the intervening space, of Betha and D'ney haloed in golden-yellow
stylings. << Could I come along? >>
Halis stands, poking Olexath with a toe, "Come on you. Let's go scrub you a
little bit, get rid of that rough skin." Betha and Sh'lor get a parting
salute, D'ney a wink and wave, and out she goes, ice blue following behind.
Betha returns Halis' salute, "If you have any more questions Halis...Feel free
to ask away...You and Olexath take care."
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth baubles a warm toned reply, --((Yes....you are more than
welcome to attend this lesson..))--
Halis nods at Betha, "You know we will Betha."
"I ran messages," D'ney replies, readily, "Don't know what a dragon sees in
flights. Nhaeth wants to show me, but he doesn't know either."
Olexath strides with a grace not oft seen in a dragon toward Southeast Bowl.
Nhaeth slinks in from Southeast Bowl.
Halis walks with the usual spring in her step toward Southeast Bowl.
D'ney doesn't wink nor wave, though amusement filters through her grimace.
"They've been through this already?" she cranes the question after Halis and
Olexath's retreating figures. Dragon wings sound overhead, and then Nhaeth
himself lands a suitable distance after, diffidently furling his wings.
Betha chuckles then walks back over to Remorth and takes up a good spot.
"Well with dragons the mating instinct is strong. Greens will start rising
as soon as they mature." Abscently a weyrling knot is tucked away into an
awaiting pocket. "Golds will have their first mating flight around two turns
beyond that."
Betha nods slowly, "Yep...She and Echo just before you returned."
D'ney turns back in time to glimpse the weyrling knot briefly. In and
away--out of reach? "Flights," she grunts, hands unlocking behind and
swinging with free restraint at her sides. "Yeah, we know that part. Seen
enough flights. Weyrlings' firsts too."
Sh'lor steps silently toward Southeast Bowl.
From Sky Above Weyrling Grounds, Daishoth has arrived.
From Sky Above Weyrling Grounds, Daishoth sweeps silently toward Sky Above
Weyr Lake.
Echo has disconnected.
Betha smiles, "Well that's good...then this will be a short lesson. Since
you're a rider of a brown, you can be expected to find yourself flying in
gold and green flights. Greens rise four times a turn, golds a are
different. You'll swear you were seeing more mating flight time than thread
fighting time." Rider laughs, "Let's see. Oh, when your dragon gets wind
that there's a flight...he'll probably want to go. Your dragon will feel the
urge to blood, and this happens before the green herself awakes from her nap.
Then she'll join in the blooding. After a time, the flight begins."
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth is welcome, indeed. Softly, drawing soft
circles on the veneer of sand: << D'ney does not like this a lot. I am not
sure if I shall. >>
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth warms up to the brown --((You might not like
it...but...when it happens...you'll be in it....Sure as a dragon eats so do
they mate. But tell her not to fret...if she is nervous my rider will
certainly answer any question she might have.))--
Nhaeth raises his wingsails slightly, gauging their width, then lumbers
heavily over towards Weyrlingmaster and Weyrling. His snout lowers, a-tilt,
its bulk nudging against D'ney fit to knock the petite tomboy over. Entirely
by accident, really. Slinging an arm over the sloping incline, D'ney grins
faintly. "The dragons go crazy. And the firelizards get to feast afterward.
Don't see how fun that can be. Can he not join in?"
Betha gets a sagely look, "Well, you have at least two days warning when a
green will take flight. So in that time you could leave the weyr. Your
safest bet would be to go to the Silver Shipfish Inn. No dragons for miles."
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth flexes his wingtips anxiously, a reflected
storm brewing in the depths of knowledge. << I will. But what is it really
about? My boy does not have it very clear... >> A booklet of worn hide
loops into the link, chased by fluxing, confused thoughts that fail to follow
upon each other. << ...I chase? Go away? >>
D'ney sniffs deeply, rocking back on her heels. Which doesn't succeed in
making her taller, but might. "Can't run away all the time like a scared
wherry. Besides, nothing can be done /elsewhere/ My work will be here."
Connections: yes, understanding: no.
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth ponders a moment then replies --((It is about the
continuence of the species...To fly, to be the strongest, the fastest, the
smartest to catch the green or in your case to catch the gold.))-- After a
little more thought, whisps of fog begin to swirl about --((I fly because I
feel it...But my rider sometimes doesn't want to have me fly...so she takes
me someplace else. It will be hard to you to want to leave...but she might
be able to pursuade you to leave.))--
"I know know what you mean D'ney. My first time, I just wanted to run the
other way...of course...I didn't get to far...And Remorth took flight.
Luckily it was green who's rider I was quite comfortable with." Voice
softens, "Of course, you will be in situations that you yourself will not be
able to understand. Your dragon has the urge, and so do you...your mind is
ablaze with it's thoughts. The urge to mate. What makes it all complicated
is that what if the rider you are after is female." Betha frowns slightly.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth tries to grasp Logic--inscrutable, indefinable
Logic--he ends up dwelling on the hidebound notebook still. Acceptance comes
in the form of paint's sudden reek. The heady scent of success? << Will I
forget each flight, like I forgot what I ate? >>
Olexath strides with a grace not oft seen in a dragon in from Southeast Bowl.
Olexath strides with a grace not oft seen in a dragon toward Weyrling Barracks.
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth --((Yes you will. It just takes a little longer, well
sometimes. it all depends. Especially if you lose..then you will be in
pain of loss, and well your rider will want to get drunk. To ease the pain
she feels.))--
D'ney watches Betha, the dark gaze barely flinching. "Oh, I don't care about
who it is." She pauses, then starts again, "Will I know myself? D'aad never
told me about that." Not that she's asked.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth does not /want/ to forget. He lingers in
despondency, while an earnestness surges, crests-- << D'ney hates drinking.
This is all so stupid. I cannot let my boy get hurt. >>
Betha nods slowly, "Yes, you will. It won't be easy. You will almost take on
an animalistic mind set. But when it's over you will realize what happened."
She sighs, "One of these days you would think that somebdoy would explain all
this to you folks before the eggs hatch. Like right after you are searched."
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth ponders slowly, as if trying to formulate some
reasonable answer --((No worries then...your rider will learn to cope with
everything in her own way. It is just that riders seem to find it much
easier to numb the pain with wine...So my rider says.))-- A musing cloud
looms --((You will both survive....it is not so bad...it is something that
life throws at us.))--
D'ney ponders the subject matter. "No, no, D'aad did tell me how he felt. I
didn't want to know but he told me. And I thought it was only him. Him and
H'man. They drank a lot," she adds, as if the alcohol explains the rest.
"You sure about that?" Ick. The crumple transfers from nose to twitching
mouth.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth crashes his little waves onto a
carmine-flavoured beach. << I want to try this wine. >> The serious mental
tones switch registers as a enraged D'ney weighs in on the equation. He
persists, though, as insistent as they come. << No. >> Then, << I want
to
help. >>
Betha looks mildly motherly, "I wish I could take you all up into my bosom and
keep you safe." She looks up, "To not have to worry about thread, to not
have to worry about flights, to just, just sit back and enjoy the precious
moments you have with your dragon. They are truely magnificant creatures,
and each rider is truly special."
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth rumbles softly --((Wine is not for dragons...Now
numbweed...that's the stuff. Feels so good on injured hide.))-- Then
tenderly as he can muster --((Help as best you can. Comfort your rider.
Guide your rider, as she guides you.))-
D'ney would shrink from the very prospect, were she not so busy shaking her
head at Nhaeth's bobbing jaw. "No way," she protests, eyes snapping shut for
a moment or two. "Tell him he can't drink--" Oh. "Precious moments is all
very good and nice, but it doesn't happen. Thread is just there. Has been.
Will be." Grimness limns her face with wavering, dark lines, visible in the
fading light.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth lightly permeates his voice with numbweed's
stinging tanginess, playfully twisting the cords of stench into your notice
as he communicates a certain fondness for the herb. << Numbweed helps. And
I will, also. >> Non-verbally, a stronger assurance stands, flashing off a
dim image of /himself/, Nhaeth, the bravest, steadiest dragon--Oops. He
switches the spotlight to another portrait in the gallery: the real one of
you and he, here and now.
Betha nods, "Yep. Nothing changes...Save fo rthe time that we are at an
interval." She looks to Nhaeth, "You can't drink Nhaeth...Don't try." Well
this is going well. "Do you have any questions that I might be able to
answer directly?"
(Nhaeth) Remorth flickers in, shimmering warm soothing waters seem to wash
across the silent link cooos softly -((Good.))--
D'ney releases the grimness in a single snap of thumb and fore-finger. "Bah.
It'll be okay. Right, Nhaeth?" The returning rumble comes a little late,
and she's begun again well before it. "Shells, the Interval's a dream for
old glowheads. We'll all be -between- before then." So the adolescent says;
and who's the adult here, anyway? "I know how it will be like. By the way,"
casually, "dragons do get wing-scraped in flights, sometimes. Any tips on
avoiding that?"
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth seems content, more so than ever. He reclines,
soaking in the warmth of your waters and the true sand beneath them.
"Yes, injuries do happen in a flight. My guess it's more prone to happen in a
gold flight as Remorth hasn't been exposed to those dangers. Best bet...Keep
those wings in as long as you can then be sure you're good and clear of the
mated dragon." She laughs then glances to Nhaeth, "Get it?"
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth lets his voice peek above the latest wave. <<
Does your rider like wrestling matches too? >> The images are dim, merely
traced and quicksilver, and rumbling like a happy albeit hungry quake.
(Nhaeth) Remorth flickers in, shimmering warm soothing waters seem to wash
across the silent link --((Ummm, in a more human sense...yes.))-- His tone
all whimsical and such.
D'ney repeats after Betha like a good weyrling. "Keep those wings in, you
hear?" She moves down a ways to tap at one of the huge wingsails, just to
check. And after a while, "He knows. Been saying that to him ever since he
left his egg, I think." Another grunt, oddly mixed with a sigh, as the
offending party arches his neck back in obliging response to the reprimand.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth wants to know. << Why? >>
Betha laughs, "I suppose that's a good thing. Smart one you got there, D'ney."
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth <<Why she likes wrestling? Of the sporting kind or in
the sense of a mating ritual?>>
Nhaeth itches; D'ney scritches -- at her own ear, that is. "I have it all
clear, Betha," she slips in, neglecting protocol, though the salute does come
after when her hand's free. "He's clever when he's not thinking too much,"
comes the muffled agreement, head turned to survey the barracks entrance.
"Any more?"
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth isn't sure. << Any kind. Is it different? >>
And elsewhere, faint injunctions drift across, of putting down this and that
on solid hide.
Betha returns the salute, "Mmm, no D'ney...but if you do have any questions or
concernes feel free to come and talk to me. I know this whole mating thing
can be scarey...but...being forwarned is better than nothing."
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth --((Well of the sporting kind, she doesn't enjoy...well
unless she's feeling rambunxious...the other well...she does enjoy that as
well. Now scoot...the lesson is over.))--
D'ney turns on a heel, to face Betha. "Thanks," she states, mouth quirking
from straight to wavy, and back again. "I needed to know this. It would
help a lot during the actual flight. When we're stuck in a weyr and all that
disgusting stuff," is tacked on, to brook no argument. Without further ado,
the heel is spun back upon, barracks-ward. They've got a journal to update.
Betha calls out, "That's what the ground weyrs are for! Evade and escape."
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth is curious, undeniably, but there's another
pressing matter on his talons. Fanning his wings, he shoos D'ney towards the
safety of rock.
Evade and escape, indeed. D'ney does just that.