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 Nika, Snuffliberg, and Cait.
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 Nuisance and
Daemon occupying it, Euran's Cot, Niamh's Bed with Niamh occupying it, and Hotaru's Cot of
Silence with Hotaru occupying it here.
Qzaedhir, Xiver, Aida, and Lauren 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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Lauren's nose must be out of whack -- she doesn't really seem to have a problem with the
smell. Or maybe she's just trying to keep from showing it. In any case, the garland gets
another glance, and then brown eyes flicker towards Aida. "Egg touching?" An
eyebrow is quirked, and Lauren dusts off her tunic. Nevermind the fact that there isn't
any dust. "Rosalth's going to let us go back out there?"
"Another egg-touching?" Qzaedhir whimpers. You'd think she'd be more excited,
what with the prospect of being eaten alive by a large, moody gold-- wait, never mind,
close that train of thought. "Um... could we hang it up really, really, /really/
quickly first?" Just look at that girl simper. Aww, isn't she cute?
"Apparently," Aida tosses back at Lauren's scepticism. "I guess Toria
must've talked her into it." What if the hatching day arrives and Rosalth freaks out
at being surrounded by white-robed ones? "You guys pick that up, come on, let's go.
I'm not gonna wait for any stragglers." Not when she has a good dice game awaiting
her after this.
Nika dozes off...
Nika wakes up from his nap.
Xiver turns to look at Aida. "Really? She's letting us on the sands? She hasn't even
seen our garland yet." Which was the whole point of the lovely -- if smelly -- thing.
But he's not one to argue, so he clambers to his feet. "Come on, yeah. We should hang
it first. That way, if she gets hungry or something..."
Qzaedhir picks up a length of the flowery, fishy mess, marching into line smartly -- she's
good at doing these things when she feels there's a purpose to it, and there's a definite
purpose to carrying this garland carefully. It may be the difference between being eaten
and being ignored, after all. "Okay, okay, let's go already. It's stinking up my cot
horribly, and we'll have to get it to Rosalth before it all rots." Rotten fish
doesn't taste very good, you know.
Nika dozes off...
Aida is still holding her nose as she ducks out of the doorway. "You guys coming or
what?" Linger at your own risk.
Aida strides into Lower Caverns.
Xiver walks into Lower Caverns.
Qzaedhir traipses gracefully into Lower Caverns.
Lauren strides darkly into Lower Caverns.
You leave the room.
Hatching Grounds Entrance
The great stone archway to the hatching grounds is an impressive sight. The zenith of the
arch is a stone dragon with wings spread ready for flight. Though time has worn the stone
some, the carving still has its cold beauty contrasting to the heat of the sands within.
It is a bright, cheery day. It is a winter morning.
Flittering around, you see Woofamoof.
Lauren, Xiver, Aida, and Qzaedhir are here.
The following dragons are here: Janareth
From here you can go:
Bowl Sands Stairs to Galleries
Xiver nods and turns to look at Qzae. "You take it up? Hang it from the galleries.
It'll be easier that way." Turning back to Aida he nods agian. "Rules. I
remember. Bow to Toria and Rosalth and everything."
Qzaedhir traipses gracefully toward Galleries.
Qzaedhir has arrived.
Alrighty then. "Ready? Get in line. Don't want you all swarming the sands and making
Rosalth mad again." Garland or no garland. "When Rosalth's upset, all the Weyr's
dragons are upset. No good for us." If that doesn't sufficiently impress the
candidates, nothing will. Aida turns and prepares to enter the sands, relying on Helicyth
to relay a warning to the queen dragon.
Zevay walks in from Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
Xiver slips into line, somewhere near the front, and waits for Aida to lead the way. Bow,
be good, don't get too close, and don't get kicked off the sands. All is repeated in a
silent mental mantra. Bow, be good....
Qzaedhir swipes her hands on her trous in distaste -- as much as she might like fish, the
stench of raw fish is beyond her capabilities to handle with a calm composure. Not that
she handles anything in a particularly calm composure, though. "I'll try not to get
her mad," the girl promises, shooting a furtive glance at the tawdry garland hanging
in the galleries. That garland better help.
Lauren shuffles behind Qzaedhir as she returns from the galleries, now garland-less. Whee.
No more fishystink. "Yes ma'am," is directed again towards Aida, and Lau falls
silent as she waits for the line to move forward.
Dallaney comes in at a trot, late. Again. She hides, or rather, ducks under heads by force
of habit, then remembers -- and just joins the horde of candidates. "Hope the
garland's okay," she murmurs to someone farther away from that gaping entrance, as
both form the final ranks.
Zevay arrives finally and hangs toward the back. His demeanor is quiet.
Aida strides toward Hatching Sands.
Qzaedhir traipses gracefully toward Hatching Sands.
Lauren strides darkly toward Hatching Sands.
Xiver walks toward Hatching Sands.
Hatching Sands
Waves of heat hit you like a flash fire as you step onto the sands. After your eyes adjust
to the dimmer light, you see what can only be described as a sea of sparkling white sand
filling the huge cavern. Along the stone walls that keep the sand in place are a series of
drawings showing the history of the cavern. Many talented stone carvers and painters have
given life to past hatchings and many other scenes from daily life of the dragon pair.
Looking up you see the countless ledges where the dragons greet the newest members to
their Weyr with bugles and the galleries where residents, crafters and holders can watch
the magical scene of a hatching...
You see Pile of Presents Egg Mound here.
Toria, Aida, Qzaedhir, Lauren, and Xiver are here.
The following dragons are here: Rosalth and Pyranth
From here you can go:
Entrance
A myriad of colors dapple the various eggs huddled somewhat closely together on the far
side of the hatching sands. In a strange sort of way it resembles the aftermath of
Christmas morning; piles of miscellaneous debris discarded for the more coveted gifts that
had been wished for.
Inside Pile of Presents Egg Mound you see Socks and Underwear Egg, Knitted Jumper Egg,
Baskets of Strangely Colored Popcorn Egg, Tasteless Lawn Ornament Egg, Imported Genuine
Bona Fide Rock Egg, Gold-Plated Trinket Egg, Splotched Arctic Jigsaw Puzzle Egg, Clashing
Triple China Set Egg, Gaudy Fake Tie-Tack Egg, Garish Plaid Sweater Egg, and Forgotten
Fruit Cake Egg.
Rosalth stands firmly ensconced directly in front of the entrance, making passage
impossible without her being able to closely inspect each candidate as they pass. Toria
stands behind her with a small grin as she explains, "Indulge her, she wants to make
sure she knows /who/ is on her sands." Her gaze runs the length of the group as she
looks for the troublemaker.
Zevay has arrived.
Aida sketches a bow at dragon and Weyrwoman, then shuffles onto the sands. She's not the
one the queen ought to be worried about -- not anymore, anyhow.
Qzaedhir shivers as she passes under Rosalth's gaze, stumbling a bow on the way.
"Er... h-hi, Rosalth, hope you're feeling better today... uh... hee hee. Like the
garland?" Periwinkle eyes blink. And blink again. She's nervousness in its undiluted,
pure form. "Hello, Weyrwoman..." And then, silently added on, is: please ask
Rosalth to not eat me?
Lauren twitches visibly as soon as she takes in the queen's position -- which isn't that
hard, considering her size -- and, eyes glittering nervously, Weaver-Candee manages to dip
forward in a respectful bow towards both dragon and rider. Lau didn't do anything bad,
really. "..good evening, Rosalth, Weyrwoman.." Throaty alto simply oozes
politeness as the girl speaks, still twitching.
Dallaney is in no hurry to get in, though her sandals are quire sufficient protection. She
slows down her steps on passing the queen, as was probably the intention, then drops her
head to the queen, with a salute for the Weyrwoman all at once. Verbally, she mutters
something inaudible but meant to be respectful.
Toria snaps a brief salute towards Aida, her smile fractional as she steps back and away,
making plenty of room for the queen and the candidates. As each of the youngster pass,
Rosalth inhails deeply, taking in ever nuance of their scent -- she can smell trouble a
mile off. The Weyrwoman simply smiles, nodding encouragement to the candidates. "Pass
on by, then get to the touching of the eggs, because I don't know how long she will take
your presence." She pauses briefly then adds, "Oh, and she hasn't touched the
garland just yet, her stomach is nervous, but once you all are finished I'm sure she will
enjoy it. Thank you."
Xiver stops with a slight gulp at the sight of Rosalth. He lowers his gaze to the sands
for a moment, before glancing back at the gold as he bows. Long bow at that. "Hullo
Weyrwoman. Rosalth." He gulps again as he stands. Good candidate. Really he is.
Zevay hangs toward the very back of the group. He doesn't meet the weyrwoman or queen
dragon's gaze as he shakily, half-bows. THe boldness he formerly displayed is completely
gone, leaving a very deflated candidate in its wake. He closes his eyes as he goes to move
pass Rosalth walking very slowly.
Aida hangs back, waving the candidates towards the eggs instead of clustering by the
queen-guarded entrance. If anything goes wrong like the last time, she'd like to be near
an available exit, thank you.
Qzaedhir meanders away from the gold, hands snatching for Lauren. "Hey, Lauren...
over here." Quickly cleared memory seems blanked of all fear again, the girl
traipsing over the hot sands towards the Popcorn egg, with no more negative comments than,
"Ouch! The sand's hot, isn't it? Look at that egg. It's funny. So's that one. And
that one." And, peering closely at the Popcorn egg, the Candidate turns off on a
tangent, bouncing to and pressing palms to the delicate shell of the Socks and Underwear
egg.
Xiver passes through, another deep nod for the gold as he does so. Safely on the other
side, he peers at the eggs for a long moment before slowly edging his way toward a cluster
of eggs, containing the Imported Rock Egg. Hand streches out nervously to touch it,
pressing his palms against the shell.
Dallaney possesses the scents of smoke and sand accumulated through the turns, but those
oughtn't to offend--she shuffles forward towards the eggs as indicated, beginning to trace
a cautious circle around those dangerous receptacles. The other egg-touching ones can be
first.
Lauren blinks and lets out a shocked 'hey!' as she finds herself dragged towards Strangely
Colored Baskets of Popcorn egg.. and abandoned. Hey. That wasn't supposed to happen. Aedh
gets a blink as she touches the socks egg, and, attempting to follow the former Igenite's
example, Weaver-turned-Candidate presses needle-pricked fingers against Popcorn's
surface.. carefully, of course. Very carefully. No need to upset Rosalth.
Qzaedhir blinks at the egg, patting it affectionately once before shooting a furtive
glance 'round the Sands and bending down and scrawling, 'you look like my favorite pair of
socks' in the sand beside it. Of course, everyone and everything looks like her favorite
pair of socks to Aedh, but it's a childishly cute gesture, anyhow. "Lauren, where...
oh." Slipping back to the Baskets of Popcorn egg, the girl scratches, 'you look like
my favorite pair of underwear soaked in klah' in the sand beside it. "So, Lauren,
where do we want to go next?" Notice the we. Lauren's earned herself a new tail.
Once all the candidates have passed beneath her weary eye, Rosalth gives her eggs once
last worried look before she strides across the sands toward the galleries. Once there the
gold stretches her neck toward one of the hanging fish and sucks it and some flowers into
her mouth, biting down to break them loose. While eating she /watches/, taking in the
whole of the sands from this distance.
Zevay doesn't approach the eggs. Instead he just heads to the far wall and watches the
other candidates touch the eggs. A soft sigh escapes him as he looks at each of the eggs
in turn, the china, popcorn, rock, glacier puzzle, socks.....all of them get looked at one
by one. He studies each of the candidates. How they interact with the eggs, with each
other. How they all carefully avoid the queen dragon. But he doens't try to approach the
eggs.
Lauren's hand is quickly retracted, Candidate glowering towards the Popcorn egg and
scuttling towards Aedh. Nothing against the egg, of course, Lau's just a dork. It's all
her fault. "Hmm?.. ah, well.. I'm not sure." Which egg is least likely to get
the pair eaten? "You pick." As an afterthought, Weaverlet mutters: "It'll
be safer for me that way."
From the Galleries, PrinceCharming has arrived.
Toria moves up beside Aida and smiles a greeting before settling into a comfortable stance
to watch, glancing back and forth between the field of candidates and her lifemate, just
to make sure all is well and good.
Xiver gives the egg another short rub, before drifting away from the Rock egg and over
toward the Arctic Jigsaw Puzzle Egg. Finger reaches out to trace some of the
criss-crossing lines upon the shell, before his other hand is pressed against the surface.
Aida eyes the candidates carefully, particularly those that are straying a little further
from the mound of eggs. "Quit messing about," she calls to a pair from down
south that she doesn't trust -- they seem to be more interested in laughing at the garland
than at touching eggs, but her glare gets them in line, even if they turn sulky. Then she
notices Zevay. "You -- get out there, at the eggs." She doesn't want to be here
all day because someone didn't take a turn.
As if reading Lauren's mind, Qzaedhir picks the egg most likely to get the pair eaten.
"Hey, um, Weyrwoman, Lauren wants to touch the gold egg." Did she say that? No,
but Aedh is an uncertified mind reader, you know -- she /knows/ these things, oh yes.
"Would it be too horrible?" Cornflower eyes blink cutely, the Candidate doing
her very best to look .... cute.
Dallaney is gradually approaching those eggs, circle by smaller circle. So it's a
distraction when she turns and hollers towards Zevay, who an evident sight against the far
wall, "Hey--you, Zevay!" she sucks in breath. "No eggs there, they're
here!" She's wandered away in the next moment to finger the Twisted wizened egg, then
to pat its mottled surface somewhat.
Zevay had been approaching the sweater egg but at the mention of the queen egg, he quickly
returns to the spot where he was holding up the wall. He frowns at Dallaney calling
attention to him. He'd frown at Aida too....but he figures living longer would be the
wiser choice. He half glances at Rosalth wondering if she is going to eat Qzae.
The pervasive warmth soaks through the shell and into your fingers, mingling with a
mixture of the heat of the sands and fractional vibrations -- or is that simply your
imagination?
Lauren's eyes fly open at Qzaedhir's inquiriy, and Candidate swivels from where she was
looking at a random egg. "What?!" Lau did nothing of the sort, you see. But
she's not going to openly admit that -- it might insult Rosalth. And Toria. And the egg.
If that's possible.
Toria looks over at Rosalth, who has paused in her eating to amble over and hover
protectively above the gold egg. Nodding to some unspoken agreement, the Weyrwoman turns
to the girls and says, "She will let you each touch it briefly, one at a time."
From the Galleries, Halivyn wakes up from his nap, glancing about his surroundings with a
wistful croon.
"Okay," Qzaedhir agrees good-naturedly, prodding at Lauren. "You can go
first. Since it was your idea, you know." A brief nod, buttercup tresses bouncing on
her shoulders in a tangled mess, signifies that Aedh agrees with Aedh. And we all know
that when that happens, everything is a-okay. Maybe.
Dallaney doesn't like to touch those eggs without other candidates there suffering, or
squealing with her, hence the shout. She does stay before the perverse ornament for a
surprisingly long pause before moving on to the Imported egg, the one Xiver was touching
at one time, blissfully unaware of Zevay and his frown.
Or maybe not. Wether Aedh agrees with Aedh or not, Lauren does not agree with Aedh, and
this is expressed in a very irritated glare before former Weaver steps towards the gold
egg. "You're going to be in a /lot/ of trouble if Rosalth eats me, Qzaedhir,"
Lau mutters, extending a slim hand and rubbing it gently across the gaudy gold surface.
Xiver has no desire to touch the gold egg, so he moves on toward another reletively 'safe'
egg. The Triple China Egg. He takes less time with this one, swiftly moving his hands to
rub the shell softly as he peers down at it. Aedh and Lauren are given distracted looks,
as they approach the gold egg.
The texture is rougher then one would think for an egg, the uneven ridges feeling more
like a boulder then the egg that it is.
"Actually," Qzaedhir counters in a brilliant explosion of morbid wit, "I
don't think you'll be able to do anything to me." A girly giggle coupled with a smirk
is shot at Lauren, while the girl steps up behind her -- albeit with nervous glances flung
in all directions, including at Rosalth.
Aida has connected.
Euran has arrived.
Rosalth peers anxiously at the girl touching her egg, dark whirling eyes stern. Toria
holds her breath, nervousness causing her cheek to persistant twitch.
Xiver rubs the China egg for another moment before stepping back. Eyes shift to the rest
of the eggs, as he ponders which to touch next. Making his way back toward the Jigsaw
Puzzle, he passes Qzae and Lauren. "Carefull. Don't get her angry again or
anything..." he comments in passing. Reaching the Puzzle Egg, he again traces the
lines upon the shell somewhat absently as he peers over the egg at the gold egg.
Euran has been here the whole time really, just meandering about touching the eggs, though
still his favorite is the Fruit Cake Egg. A look over toward the few upsetting the Queen
with a sigh and shake of his head, "Royalties' treasures are not to be shared."
He looks back toward the gold and her egg before just holding a hand on the Cake Egg.
Euran
Red curls twisting and twirling on a plopped mount atop his head, with dashes of sundyed
golden streaks lively splashing toward the colors. Bangs widely twirl on his forehead,
cutting down and pointing down toward the eyes. Dark sea-blue swirls inside his darkened
eyes, staring with such intelligence between short black eyelashes. His face is round and
his short, stubby nose comes out with a knob, slightly stained a bright red. Slightly
chubby, yet the cause of the height of the boy, arms and legs slightly muscled but never
put to good use.
Euran seems to be wearing something abnormal to his usual dress of the finest cloths and
materials. Since the latest of his Searching he has been wearing clothes made just for
working. This outfit including a pair of light tan wherhide pants that have faded and been
stretched for maximum comfort. He wears leather moccassins on his bare feet to keep his
pretty toes from ruining. Last he wears a stretched cotton shirt that is warm enough for
the Telgar winters.
A small white cord with a single loop dangling below, it seems a knot of a Telgar Weyr
Candidate.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Carrying:
Euran's Snuffaluffagus
Euran...was happy about this Searched thing, but now he's not so sure...evil chores!
From the Galleries, Woofamoof has arrived.
Lauren hasn't done anything except touched it -- and even that was brief. Hand is removed,
and Lauren scuttles behind Aedh, eyes flickering nervously. "Your turn, Aedh,"
is murmured, and Lau directs her attention towards another ovoid -- Tripe China Set Egg.
Weaver makes her approach, and, hand shaking a bit and eyes constantly darting towards
Rosalth, presses her palm against the shell gently. She's still being nice, right? Right.
Qzaedhir waves nervously at Xiver, mumbling a quiet, "Don't worry, I'll try not
to..." as she stares up at Rosalth. "Hey... hey, Lauren, don't go
anywhere." Lips twerk to one side, the girl gingerly tracing the white spidery lines
on the shell, meanwhile muttering at Lauren -- darn her, why couldn't she have stayed
where she was?
Zevay is still hanging by the wall. He watches the other candidates silently, wondering
things to himself as he stands there. He continues to make no effort to touch the eggs but
warily regards the queen candidates who touch the troublesome egg.
Rosalth pokes her snout toward Qzaedhir as she touches her beloved egg. Whirling eyes are
pink in hue, edging on a silent warning -- Beware child, you'd only be a snack.
Dallaney glances at the gold egg and the candidates near it, as she herself treads heavily
to another. Ignore the occasional mincing step in reaction to sands' heat. She puts a
finger in contact with the Garish egg, putting just enough pressure to feel but not to
harm it, then steps back awkwardly, eyeing the coloured exterior, wondering at its
interior.
Euran eyes are looking at the Queen with a frown toward the other Candidates. Just the
Holder's Son moves toward another egg regrettingly fingers removed from the egg and
transfers toward Gaudy Fake Tie-Tack Egg. Just quietly rubbing the egg and mumbling about
how to treat a Queen of such stature.
Xiver removes his hand, staping back from the egg at last and drifting back toward the
exit. He's hot, and nervous, and just about ready to go. Half way back, he pauses to trail
a finger across the surface of the Socks and Underwear Egg, with a grin at the
half-scrawled words Aedh made in the sand below it.
As you gaze at the egg waves of heat shimmer across the surface, causing the shell to look
as if is being cast about in the waves of a turbulent sea.
Lauren blinks once, again retracting her hand speedily -- it's all getting to be a bit too
much for her, for some reason or another. Perhaps the thought of getting eaten at random.
Attempting to find a nice, solitary egg.. well, solitary as an egg can get in a pile of
thirty-five.. Weaver directs her attention towards Tasteless Lawn Ornament egg and
shuffles over. Eyes flicker once more towards Rosalth, and, bobbing her head politely, Lau
reaches out and brushes snowy white fingers gently across Lawn Ornament's surface.
Aida mutters something at Toria about a dice game, her impatience evident in the tenor of
her speech and twitch of her foot as she abruptly starts calling the candidates to order.
"Enough of that for one day -- don't wanna undo the good," she doesn't choke on
the word, "you tried to do with your, uh, garland." The smell of that is
drifting down from the galleries, another reason the brownrider wants to leave.
Qzaedhir is quite aware of that actually, periwinkle eyes turning to the gold in nervous
apprehension, seemingly asking, Look, look at that garland. Don't you want to eat those
fishies hanging off the garland instead? After all, fishies are /far/ more tasty than
Candidates like her. In any case, it looks like time to get scrambling from the egg --
fingers trail off the tangle of white, the girl running in Lauren's footsteps. Triple
China Set Egg is brushed with a palm as she makes her way to Aida. "Oh, of course
not. Do you think she likes it?"
Euran removes his fingers from the Tie-Tack Egg, he just shakes his head, folding his
hands together and walking back toward Aida, then toward the Fish/Flower Garland, icky
stuff.
Euran has disconnected.
"I don't," Aida informs Qzaedhir curtly, hustling her towards the entrance/exit,
"and I don't want to stick around to find out."
Lauren shudders once more, again retracting her hand. Candidate swivels on her heals at
Aida's statement, and bobs her head once, mincing towards the brownrider with another
polite nod towards Rosalth and Toria. "Yes, ma'am, Aida." Mince-mince, and Lau
makes her way towards the exit.
Dallaney spends a time staring at that egg, as if daring it to crack its shell. But it
doesn't, fortunately for her, and she soon turns at cast a glance back on the brownrider's
call. "Well, /I'm/ ready to go," says she without reluctance, and steps forth.
Out, presumably; she drops in line.
Xiver lifts fingers from the egg and continues on toward the exit. "You don't what?
Think she likes it? Why not?" If /he/ were a dragon, he'd like it. Shifting off the
sands, he gives the eggs one last look and Rosalth one last bob of his head. "Thank
you Rosalth, ma'am."
"Oh," Qzaedhir returns, deflating somewhat. "Well, /I/ think it's pretty,
for what it's worth." Nothing, probably. The Candidate trips off the Sands, uttering
a brief exclamation of relief, "I didn't realize it was /that/ hot there... do we
have to go barefoot when the eggs actually hatch?" See Aedh. See Aedh remember
something, be it correct or not. See Aedh blanch.
Qzaedhir traipses gracefully toward Hatching Grounds Entrance.
From the Galleries, Woofamoof wakes up from her nap.
Aida strides toward Hatching Grounds Entrance.
Xiver walks toward Hatching Grounds Entrance.
From the Galleries, PrinceCharming awakens, removing crowned head from beneath his wing.
Lauren strides darkly toward Hatching Grounds Entrance.
Zevay sighs silently to himself again and begins to move toward aida, careful to bow a
little to both rider and dragon before following the rest out.
Dallaney waits until the shuffle-step takes her nearer the archway to bow and salute to
rider and dragon, respectively, and promptly disappears outside.
Hatching Grounds Entrance
The great stone archway to the hatching grounds is an impressive sight. The zenith of the
arch is a stone dragon with wings spread ready for flight. Though time has worn the stone
some, the carving still has its cold beauty contrasting to the heat of the sands within.
It is a bright, cheery day. It is a winter morning.
Qzaedhir, Xiver, and Lauren are here.
The following dragons are here: Janareth
From here you can go:
Bowl Sands Stairs to Galleries
Lauren strides darkly toward Galleries.
Lauren has arrived.
Xiver walks toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
Zevay has arrived.
Lauren strides darkly toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
Qzaedhir traipses gracefully toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
Dallaney stomps out in slightly disgruntled fashion, hands easily stuffing themselves into
her pants pockets. Turning to Zevay, she wonders, without a hint of grace: "What's
wrong with you?"
Zevay frowns as dellaney speaks to him, "Nothing.....just.....I don't know. You
wouldn't understand anyway...."
Dallaney surely doesn't, but insists on saying her lines anyway, "Rosalth didn't eat
/you/ as you came in. I'm not so sure about the garland, but she didn't take a single bit
of you. So why're so scared of the eggs?" A hand cuts the air in front of her, and
plunges boot into a pile of remnant sand, moving some steps ahead.
Zevay points to the fading burns on his face, "I nearly got trampled and hurt because
Rosalth got angry. I didn't know what to do.....and now the drudges are making fun of me
for doing so."
Dallaney says, incredulous, "And you listen to the drudges? If they were more than
dimglows, Zevay, they wouldn't /be/ drudges." The hazel eyes blink, widened back at
him, as she smirks. "And you're a dimglow too for listening to them gossip. Rosalth
has probably forgotten about it anyway." Or so the ex-weyrbrat declares.
Zevay frowns, "I......." He shuts up knowing Dellaney will have something else
to say not matter what words me may come up with.
Dallaney prompts, voice and tones as rough as her appearance denotes. "Yeah?"
The fingers are retracted from her pockets and she stands, one arm akimbo in reluctant
defiance.
Zevay says, "I don't know what I can say, I am afraid of her still."
Dallaney spins back on one sandal heel, footwear's thong dangling, and begins to circle
the Telgarian just as she had the eggs, earlier. "You don't need to say
anything," she persists, jabbing her point in with clashing teeth. "You just
have to go in next time and touch the eggs. If nothing happens, it's okay, you're okay.
And if something does--" She trails off, gleefully, "--You can get some of us to
help you fend her off." Head cocked, she glares at him, daring a response.
Zevay lowers his head, "they all say I'm a coward......"
Dallaney snorts, in the most unladylike way she can manage. "And it's right they
should. Do you see why, when you look like you're afraid of /eggs/. Shells, they're just
...just shells with lives in them. Look, we made the garland for the queen, didn't we? So
she isn't angry anymore, right?" She lowers a hand to awkwardly pat his shoulder, in
a fashion more brotherly than maternal. "You just gotta show them you aren't
scared."
Zevay nods a little, "I'll try.....I...I just don't think I
was ready to go back in there."
Dallaney twists so that the angularity of her chin isn't pointed directly at Zevay.
"Oh, okay," she concedes, removing the hand. "Be ready next time then, when
they allow us in there."