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.
Candidates' Chamber
Nestled within the quaint walls of chipped stone lies a few scattered cots, each with a
colorful quilt folded neatly at one end, and a solid-backed chair stationed near the
other. An array of artwork graces the walls depicting the life of a dragonrider from the
early, white-robed Candidancy days to the ultimate horror of fighting Thread, seemingly
brought to life beneath the flickering light of various glowbaskets.
Peeking down from a natural ledge, you see Snuffliberg, Rock, Smith, Cinaed, Kefka, and
Brighid.
You see Chores List, Candidates' Board, a large basket, Qzaedhir's Creepily Colorful Cot,
Lau's Little Lair, Dallan's Cot, Zevay's section of relative solitude with Zevay occupying
it, Euran's Cot, Niamh's Bed, and Hotaru's Cot of Silence here.
Qzaedhir, Euran, Lauren, Hotaru, and Niamh are here.
From here you can go:
Hallway
The current weather report:
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TelgW: Center of the Bowl (#999)
It is a bright, cheery day. It is a winter morning.
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Sorry if you people were still trying to sleep in here, but you probably should've woken
up and started on your chores by now anyways. Now you'll just have to put up with the
cleaning crew. "I'd prefer I wasn't the one to sweep the floor," Niamh says,
holding out the broom in hopes someone else will take it. "I've been doing enough of
that lately." she eyes the floor. "I guess we can't sweep yet, anyways. I guess
a general tidy-up, and then we can divide the chores?" She looks at Lauren and
Dallaney for opinions.
Lauren'd rather be sleeping, chores or no. But, in an attempt to look helpful, Candidate
shrugs a bit and prods at a pile of clothes in a random spot in the floor. "Sounds
good to me." And don't expect Lau to take the broom. Niamh looks nice with it,
anyway. Or something.
Qzaedhir has disconnected.
Dallaney is looking for the broom. Perhaps the one Niamh's holding out, and she strolls
over to take it, pretending nonchalance. A trail of dirt scuffs half of her face, trailing
to her cheek and littering the front of her jacket an even blacker shade.
"Whatever," she replies, and just reaches out to take it. "Dirt's not too
bad, you know." Mumble.
Dallaney
Gaunt, Dallan is, grown into a gawky adolescent stockiness. 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 pair of leather pants, patched at the knees, hang on by the bare grip of a hide belt
winding around her waist. Too long by design, multiple folds serve to hitch the pair up,
echoed by the tucked in, tucked up shirt the boyish girl wears. A jacket attempts to cover
it all: its adult standard issue and proudly bears the pips of a thrice-corded medal. As
dusky as she is, her garments attempt to outdo that by their solid umber shades; even the
loose sandals are intensely russet.
On her shoulder, a single white cord chokes and twines ruggedly upon itself, purity's
epitome.
She is awake and looks alert.
Lauren, thankfully, never had to see the molding food. Pile of clothes gets prodded again,
and former Weaver mumbles something irritable before scooping it up and depositing it in
the general direction of.. that.. place where the dirty laundry goes. She'll remember what
she's supposed to call it later. Shuffling randomly around the chambers, more clothes are
scooped up, and other belongings are dumped in the vicinity of their owners. Hey, if they
wanted lovin' care, they should pick it up themselves. "..was it this messy
/before/?" Is an eventual inquiry, Candidate looking about warily. Maybe it just
suddenly got dirty just for them.
Dallaney isn't the expert where brooms are concerned: she totes it warily,
nails drumming on wood. "I suppose those tapestries need to be shaken out or
something?" and she traces a circle with the tool's other end while eyeing
Lauren. For pointers, probably. "It /should/ be messy -- Everything rots in
the end, you know," she notes too. Dust to dust.
Xiver has connected.
Niamh shrugs at Lauren. "I didn't see what it was like before there were candidates
in here," she explains. "I got snagged a sevenday after the clutching and it
already had quite a few people in here. Whenever you have a lot of people in a small space
who /don't pick up after themselves/...." Her voice raises as she looks pointedly
around the room. Her own cot is, of course, neat as a pin. "I don't know. Is that
what you do with tapestries? Maybe we should take them outside." She straightens up,
looking at them.
Lauren only knows that brooms are what sweep up the stuff on the Caverns floor. "I
dunno.. depends on how dusty they are, I suppose," is the response to an inquiry
about tapestries. /Those/ she knows about. Hopefully. Three turns as a Weaver /has/ to be
good for something, right? Right.
"They look all right to me," Dallan's going to insist on that till day's end.
She glances, from the spangled pieces of artwork to the candidates. "Not too
dusty." So they can ignore them and move on. Flicking a palm to the tapestries in
dismissal, she scampers to the nearest cot and proceeds to haul its occupant up by his
shoulder. "Go 'way."
Niamh works her way to the nearest one tapestry, clearing a path for herself as she goes.
"Yeah, I guess they don't look too bad. They're probably heavy, too." And if
this is all the help she has, she isn't about to go pulling all those things down to lug
them clear out into the bowl and shake them out. If somebody else wants them cleaned, they
can tell people to specifically clean them; she only wants this room livable again. She
throws some more stuff onto cots and looks around. "At least you can walk in here
again."
Lauren nods sagely, still scooping up random piles of clothes and dumping various
belongings on cots. Call her rude, if you will, but someday, she'll figure out exactly
what she's doing. And then you can laugh, too. "Tapestries are usually heavy. It'd
take a bunch of us to go haul 'em out there." No offense to Niamh and Dallan, of
course. They'd manage a lot better than Lau.
Hotaru hops energetically into Lower Caverns.
Dallaney was hopping, or skipping between cots a moment before. "Yeah," she
grudgingly admits, and tosses a pillow forth into a cot. It spins neatly, bounces twice,
then lies quiescent. "I'd rather not clean than clean, if you know what I mean,"
she offers for any in hearing range. "Suppose you two swept out your dorms all the
time-- before." It nearly is a question, even.
Qzaedhir has connected.
Xiver walks into Lower Caverns.
Niamh nods, walking back near the door. "At least, I did a lot when I was a newer
apprentice. When I became a senior one, I was able to leave most of that work to the new
newer apprentices." Does that make sense? Hopefully they got the general idea.
"I think that should do it. Like I said, at least we can walk without hoping from one
clear patch to the next. If more people chip in we can do more later. Let's... go
someplace else. I'm tired of this place."
Lauren didn't do anything, even as a junior apprentice. Her slackerness applies to /all/
ranks, you see. Yes, Lau is /that/ messed up. How she got Searched is a mystery to
everyone. "..sounds find to me.. but where'll we go?" She's not going to be the
one to think of that. Let someone else use the braincell a bit.
"That's all?" Dallan sounds surprised, indulging in a short spate of blinking.
"That wasn't hard at all. Just picking up and putting down things, a bit like in
games." She snorts, not unhappily, looking over the chamber. "Tidy enough. Let's
go to the bowl. We can look at the dragons, if you want." She's willing to give in,
this once.
Niamh nods eagerly. "And get some fresh air that isn't filled with dust," she
adds. "Let's go. I'm right behind you." Or before you, if she makes it to the
door first, since she's already heading in that direction.
Dallaney grins, suddenly. "Race you to the 'caverns." And she's gone.
You leave the room.