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Re: A Favorite Topic With a New Face (Diagir/Ziya, Maglor/Glaurung)

Steelsilver
 

"I enjoy it here." Maglor nodded. "It's warm, colorful, and I've a lovely bronze wher for company."


On Sunday, April 5, 2020, Ren <wingedadrian@...> wrote:
Ziya gave an understanding sound. It was like how hers felt about That Green's rider then. She leaned more into Diagir while listening to the bigs.

"It is not," Diagir agreed. "Arolos is calm for the most part and even its calamities are bearable."



--
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Re: Lunch With A... Friend? (atten: Kassia)

Steelsilver
 

I'des grinned. "That's fair. Thanks for the consideration." He responded playfully. "Ever tried to fly with no hands?" 

 A pause, watching, as she set out the food, settling down carefully to keep some distance between them. "Oooh, bubbly pies! I love those!"




--
Sent from my phone!


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

sailyn2
 

Kassia nodded. "Is he Bonded or Impressed?" That would matter as to whether she cared if he listened to others or not. "What are you hoping to do with the wherhandlers?" She already had a wher, so she couldn't be a Wherguard, but she could be a part of the guards who used whers if she wanted.


Re: Tail-Bone of a Person ( Cremsden / Z'go )

Rogue Kakashi
 

Z'go snorted, letting him have that one.  He had helped him out after all, and Z'go wasn't always a total prick.  "Thanks again, Cremsden.  I don't think i will be an issue but if it i'll send him your way.  Anything else I need to know?"

- Z'go


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

Jessica Freise
 

OOC: Just tag me on discord <3

IC:

"I'm a Senior apprentice only. My egg was a gift and Larensk has been by my side ever sense." She looked a little pensive, thoughtful, as she stroked his hide and studied the beautiful lines of the goldrider's bronze wher. "He's a bit of a pain when it comes to obeying anyone but me, but he is completely loyal at heart, which usually makes up for the trouble he gets me out of."

Again, that charming grin flashed.

On Apr 6, 2020, at 11:28 AM, sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:

Kassia laid a head on the bronze, clearly an earlier generation Callamere wher of the protection line. She smiled. "He's 17. Where did you get yours? What is your role in the wher craft?"

 

OOC: if you get a chat, it'd be fun to chat about the whercraft with you, not many with whercrafters around



Re: In Need of a Bit of Healing (Ambrelli/Z'go)

Rogue Kakashi
 

Z'go snorted at her response, amused and noticing that little by little her walls were coming down, "Very well, if you don't want to be thanked for helping Gamyth, how about for eating weyrbrats and giving the grown ups less little wheryfecks to deal with?  Aye, I'd raise a glass to that."  He offered her a roguish smile; he was teasing, inviting her to play a little bit more.  

He was of course attentive to everything she was doing to Gamyth, memorizing the procedure to the best of his abilities in case, Farath forbid, he had to do it himself in the future.  "Don't worry, I'm watching," he told her, though when she turned his green eyes weren't on the dragon but lingering on the woman attending Gamyth.  His eyes drifted up her figure until they encountered the dragonhealer's own. 

The brownrider leaned in closer to Ambrelli, practically looking over her shoulder.  He was close enough that when he turned his head his deep voice spoke dangerously closer to her ear, "Go on, continue."  He turned his head, attention returning to the wound, "And the response is yes, I have plenty of oils."

-mZ'go and Gamyth


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

sailyn2
 

Kassia laid a head on the bronze, clearly an earlier generation Callamere wher of the protection line. She smiled. "He's 17. Where did you get yours? What is your role in the wher craft?"

 

OOC: if you get a chat, it'd be fun to chat about the whercraft with you, not many with whercrafters around


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

Jessica Freise
 

"A few Turns now," she said, flashing a charming grin at the other woman. "Larensk is only two, though. What about him?" she tilted her head towards the bronze.

On Apr 6, 2020, at 10:55 AM, sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:

Kassia tried to place the name, but failed. There were more and more wherhandlers each day and she depended on those in charge to keep them in line now. She assumed that the other woman would know of how much of a hand she tried to keep with the wher program, but then again she'd backed off a bit so maybe not.

"Nice to meet you, Larenne. And Larensk. Have you been with the program long?"


Re: Reserving Her Opinionatten: Kassia/S'yrell

sailyn2
 

If he thought that his time at Arolos would be a...picnic, he was in for a harsh reality, but Kassia didn't tell him that. He'd never believe her. Too many people came and saw the initial overlay of Arolos and thought them soft, weak even because of their permissiveness. But Arolosians were survivors and there was always another crisis on the horizon. They hadn't had a problem in a while, but it was only a matter of time. She ate a piece of cheese as she contemplated, enjoying the time of peace while she could.

"Perhaps Arolos will live up similarly to what you've...enjoyed at High Reaches," she said, finding his enjoyment of that harshness a bit odd. "The sun is here to stay and the feeling of a vacation will wear off, I'm afraid, but perhaps you will work your way up and get those luxuries again. Arolos offers its own options. We have our own wines. And the whers and flits and runners, as mentioned. There is the beach, for walking, yes." She glanced at him and smiled, though whether it was a promise or not remained to be seen. "If you want to see the runners, I could take you. That's close enough. And there are bathing pools that are much nicer than at High Reaches if you haven't found them yet."


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

sailyn2
 

Kassia tried to place the name, but failed. There were more and more wherhandlers each day and she depended on those in charge to keep them in line now. She assumed that the other woman would know of how much of a hand she tried to keep with the wher program, but then again she'd backed off a bit so maybe not.

"Nice to meet you, Larenne. And Larensk. Have you been with the program long?"


Re: Reserving Her Opinionatten: Kassia/S'yrell

TrueTricia
 

S'ryll sipped his wine and ate some of the cheese as she spoke. He watched her face intently. Her eyes still enchanted him, their pale color a novelty. He didn't follow her gaze as she glanced away towards the dragons. He watched her face, both only admiring her and watching her for tells of her identity. 

"My favorite thing about the Reaches?" He seemed genuinely surprised by the question.  Well certainly his nicer weyr and luxuries. His position. But it was more than that... He paused, taking his time. 

"I liked the harshness, the austerity. You had to be tough there, and the Reaches would grind down the weakness in you. Whether as a holdbrat, a Crafter, or a Rider, mistakes could be deadly. You had to be better as a result. And being better, it kept you and those around you alive another day.  The order of things kept us alive. Don't get me wrong, the sun is nice here, but I miss my furs" and the women in them he said to himself. "I miss the luxuries I had at the Weyr for sure. But this tropical climate feels like a holiday by comparison." 

It was the honest truth. Oh there were things he left out, like that he'd been good in his role there, that he missed that feeling, that he missed the power of his role... 

"As to here, I'm not sure. It's still sinking in that this is now my home. I still feel like I'll be going back to the Reaches soon.  But I suppose it's all the same when you strip it down. Wake up, fly Fall, care for Vastolth, repeat.". It was never that simple, and they both knew it. 

"What should I look forward to, dear Sar? Runner rides with you and long walks on the beaches?" His tone was teasing as he sipped the wine again. 


Re: A Fellow Wher Handler atten: atten Larenne/Kassia

Jessica Freise
 

Larenne gave a look towards the speaker's face, then skimmed down to her rank knots. She inclined her head respectfully towards Kassia and smiled.

"Good morning," she said in a low, rich controulto. A hand went to rest on Larensk neck. "I am Larenne and this is Larensk. I see you have a very attentive guard."

On Apr 6, 2020, at 4:07 AM, sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:

Kassia was out on her morning walk with Brogan when she spotted another woman with a blue wher coming her way. She recognized the knots as a wherhandler, but stopped a short distance to give her a bit of space. Even though they had all the rules and wherhandlers were supposed to have the best trained whers, she never entirely trusted how whers were going to treat each other on first meeting. Brogan was wary, but mostly because he was on guard. She also felt his curiosity for the non-bronze wher.


"Good morning," she said.



Re: These Little Moments (ATTN: Yiyu/Tyne)

Jessica Freise
 

"Yes," the Candidate agreed, returning the smile even as she studied Tyne's gaze. A sof t sound emmitted from the warm bundle tangled in her hair and a black, darkly striped head popped up to study Tyne as well.

"Did you wish to be alone?" Yiyu queried.

On Apr 6, 2020, at 3:55 AM, Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:

Everywhere had felt too small. Too boxed in. Today had been a claustrophobic day. She needed air. And the brood needed oiling. It hadn't taken more than a heartbeat to decide where she was going to go and she had made her way up to her secret spot where the faire was already waiting for her, she could hear them calling as she had approached up the tunnel. 

She had started at first to see Yiyu, but recognition touched her eyes and a smile curled her lips. "You get the best view of the sunset from here." Well, maybe not the best in the whole Weyr, but Tyne was more than a little biased.

On Sun, Apr 5, 2020 at 7:17 PM Jessica Freise <loriendarenya@...> wrote:
They were quiet little times, these trips she took up near the rim. She hadn't seen Tyne here, but had always made sure to leave the space clean no matter if she carried a kitten with her or a stack of books. This evening, she was watching the sunset, tiny black kitten lost in her mass of hair, purring softly.

A footstep scraped against stone. She turned, smiled hesitantly. The flock of flits foretold whom she would see soon enough.




--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Fruit Destruction at it's Messiest (attn: Ysolde, Qioyon)

Mya L. R.
 

"Didn't have access to any normal material today!"  Qioyon explained, a grin momentarily appearing on his face at the comment.  The thought that Harpers might ask about it made him cock his head, pausing as he considered it, soon asking.  "Why would the Harpers ask?  I didn't make them for any Harpers, does things like fruit sculptures get around very much?"


On Mon, Apr 6, 2020 at 7:05 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
"Fruit!" She laughed, shaking her hair from her eyes as it bounced forwards. "I'm not going to ask why fruit, but that's definitely something a bit different!" People normally went for something more... well, permanent. Like a drawing or sculpture. Well, you could consider fruit as a media of choice if you were feeling especially creative. "If any of those pompous Harpers ask, you can say it's an expression in the frailty of emotional constructs. That will impress them."

--
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Member Name: MyaL
Discord: Neffeyn#8723


You know there's other ways to scratch that itch, right? (Dytha/F'gan)

Nutmeg
 

She couldn't believe she had missed it. But then, she had been so preoccupied with clearing out her weyr and making it part way functional that she had misinterpreted Ponth's grouchiness as an echo of her own frustration. She was convinced that she was going to make the weyr a wonderful little hideaway of comfort but it was going to take a good amount of time. Plus, it wasn't like Ponth was one of those greens who glowed like a basket when she was going up. The beast got darker. If only she had paid attention to the colour she had demanded her talons be painted the night before. Purple. That should have said it all really.

Dytha had been busy on the opposite side of the Weyr assisting a Rider with some superficial laceration their blue had sustained from some irritating straps when Ponth had gleefully announced that she was bored and took to the sky like a cork being shot from a wine skin. Jut because she was one of the small 2nd Pass dragons didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy the attention of the Arolosian blues as she zipped through the sky at impressive speed. They were always significantly more short lived than that of the average 8th Pass green, stamina reserves being depleted far more quickly - but even Dytha had to admit, the acrobatics got impressive.

Today though, caught off guard, she hadn't had chance to lock herself in and as she felt the familiar heat bubbling through her, she had hastily made her excuses and made her way down the tunnels as fast as her feet would allow. Thankfully Faranth was on her side, making her far more mobile at the moment. Bathing pool.... bathing pool.... bathing pool.... ah hah! She found what she needed as she skidded around the corner, shedding clothes as she went, kicking the cold water relay into full blast as she passed it. It was small. Even better. It would cool down faster - the hot water being pushed out through the overflows. Down to her underthings, she plunged into the rapidly cooling water, almost completely submerged except for her face sticking out. Well, she had to breathe after all.

"Come on, come on.." Her voice was a growl as she waited for the water to douse the heat under her skin. "Colder already, shaffit!"

--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Familiar faces in strange new places. (Tyne/S'ryll)

Nutmeg
 

Cairn had reappeared first, clearly in a grump. Seconds later came the explanation for his pique. Zeeti had beaten him to it. The tiny green erupted out of Between with a triumphant bugle, her paws clutching a garment of clothing that was unceremoniously dropped on Tyne's head. Well, maybe the execution hadn't been completely perfect. The green shot away to rejoin the faire, clearly very pleased with herself. Cairn however, settled on a nearby rock, grooming himself in a full sulk. 

"Ah hah, I thought you two had gotten lost." It hadn't been hard to shake out the now considerably more rumpled shirt, pulling S'ryll's tunic over her head and throwing it back at him, playfully aiming for his face before the pulling the light blue shirt over her head and smoothing it down. Well, so to speak. There wasn't going to be getting rid of any of those rumples any time soon until it went to laundry. She had smiled coyly at him tucking a strand of hair behind her ear but the familiar gestures made her a little uncomfortable. She knew who she had been when last they had known each other. Had known each other in ways that others hadn't possibly imagined. But now? What was she destined for exactly? She didn't have a line of admirers waiting to adorn her furs. Not these days. No more winning a new lover just with a flash of her knots and a whispered suggestion. But that had been all a part of the power game she could play. A game she had loved to play. Now? Now she... didn't think she wanted that anymore. Safety was paramount to her world. Safety and... even contentment.

She hadn't missed the flare of anger and she couldn't help but smile wryly. She knew exactly where his brain had gone. To the same place hers had first gone when Wygelle and F'loran had proposed the plan to her. That she was being fobbed off as a burden. "The arrangement keeps it... all in order, I suppose is the best way of putting it. If I'd stayed at Reaches? I could have had whatever I want because I was theirs. But coming somewhere new? I'd be using their resources without making any sort of contribution myself." And there had been a lot of resources used - especially out of the Healer budgets in time alone. "I didn't like it at first. But now, I appreciate the gesture. Wygelle wants to make sure I'm looked after and this way, it doesn't mess with the Weyrwoman's account books. My needs are met - no matter what." Because the reality was, Tyne wasn't entirely convinced that it entirely mattered to anyone who she HAD been. Only that she wasn't anymore and as a result, those privileges were no longer hers to claim. "On the plus side, I do have a really nice weyr near the Harper side." 

Tyne was beginning to relax - at least to a degree. Later she would no doubt go home and question, well, just about everything she had ever known. The boundary between now and then had been violently shaken in a way she had not experienced in some time. And she would need to tell Idri. And write it in her journal.  She followed his gaze up to her cloud where several others had joined in with the games. "Oh, I have them all. Every one in the Weyr. And maybe a bit beyond. If I really concentrate. But that makes my head hurt." There was a dreamy quality to her voice now as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Although I do have a ridiculous amount that are... mine."

On Mon, Apr 6, 2020 at 2:03 PM TrueTricia <tricia.nicewicz@...> wrote:
S'ryll was too busy pulling off his tunic in a gesture of chivalry to notice her fingers touching her wrists under the gloves she wore.  As she slipped it over himself, he tousled his hair back into submission.  S'ryll wasn't vain so much as arrogant.  There was a casualness about him, and he exuded confidence.  So his appearance wasn't perfect, nor did he have that penchant for details.  Someone had told him once that he could wear a wet rag and make it look good.  He'd agreed.  

He chuckled at her teasing.  "I mean when you look this good, it just can't be helped..." He gave her his best stoic chiseled look, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly with amusement.  It was an exaggeration of his arrogance of course, and certainly something she'd have teased him about endlessly back then.  "A pair we'd make... you with scratches all over you from the faire, and me burned to a crisp!"  He could see that small faint whisper of the ww he'd known, and he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ears, suddenly overcome with just the need to touch her in that moment, while the ghosts of their pasts were so clearly present.

{{She is still right there.  You're touching her.}} Vastolth said, the concept escaping him.  He mentally shushed the bronze.  But the bronze's words brought him back to the reality of the moment, and her next words made the ww Tyne he'd known seem farther away then ever.  He could never have believed her broken.  The woman he'd known would never break, and yet, her mannerisms here were only whispers of what they had been, overlaid with new ones that were unfamiliar.  He struggled to reconcile his feelings of the past with the present, and failed.  That ww Tyne could ever think herself broken, well, that in and of itself gave him insight into the depths of her misery, and only deepened his guilt.  

But her next words left him angry.  Had she not been so close to him, he might have jumped up in a physical reaction to the anger that welled in him.  As it was, there was a slight tremor as he tempered his emotions back down.  The Reaches had been paying for her to stay here?  For her upkeep?  She was a weyrwoman, for Faranth's sake!  She was a goldrider of Pern, and she'd made the ultimate sacrifice for her Weyr, losing her dragon.  And so what, they now viewed her as useless?  As someone that had to be paid to be kept?  They should be thanking her, day after day, thanking her for what she had done, for what she had given up.  Not seen as a burden!  Poor Tyne!  To have fallen so far, well that in and of itself would have been unbearable for her back in the day.  And if that's how they felt about her, what would happen to him if he ever lost Vastolth? 

{{But you won't.  We're going to live....well as long as dragons and Riders live.  So you won't lose me.  Silly thought.}}

His anger wouldn't do her any good, so he took a breath and listened to her, took the flask and took a long drag of it.  As she closed her eyes, he stared at her, drinking in the details of her.  He'd forgotten so many of them, his memory of her having grown fuzzy in the details the way memories often do.  And now he sought to realign those details in her head, fill them into his memories and his vision of her.  He didn't want to lose those ever again.

He glanced up at the faire as she spoke about them.  "Is that why you have so many?" he asked.    



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Familiar faces in strange new places. (Tyne/S'ryll)

TrueTricia
 

S'ryll was too busy pulling off his tunic in a gesture of chivalry to notice her fingers touching her wrists under the gloves she wore.  As she slipped it over himself, he tousled his hair back into submission.  S'ryll wasn't vain so much as arrogant.  There was a casualness about him, and he exuded confidence.  So his appearance wasn't perfect, nor did he have that penchant for details.  Someone had told him once that he could wear a wet rag and make it look good.  He'd agreed.  

He chuckled at her teasing.  "I mean when you look this good, it just can't be helped..." He gave her his best stoic chiseled look, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly with amusement.  It was an exaggeration of his arrogance of course, and certainly something she'd have teased him about endlessly back then.  "A pair we'd make... you with scratches all over you from the faire, and me burned to a crisp!"  He could see that small faint whisper of the ww he'd known, and he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ears, suddenly overcome with just the need to touch her in that moment, while the ghosts of their pasts were so clearly present.

{{She is still right there.  You're touching her.}} Vastolth said, the concept escaping him.  He mentally shushed the bronze.  But the bronze's words brought him back to the reality of the moment, and her next words made the ww Tyne he'd known seem farther away then ever.  He could never have believed her broken.  The woman he'd known would never break, and yet, her mannerisms here were only whispers of what they had been, overlaid with new ones that were unfamiliar.  He struggled to reconcile his feelings of the past with the present, and failed.  That ww Tyne could ever think herself broken, well, that in and of itself gave him insight into the depths of her misery, and only deepened his guilt.  

But her next words left him angry.  Had she not been so close to him, he might have jumped up in a physical reaction to the anger that welled in him.  As it was, there was a slight tremor as he tempered his emotions back down.  The Reaches had been paying for her to stay here?  For her upkeep?  She was a weyrwoman, for Faranth's sake!  She was a goldrider of Pern, and she'd made the ultimate sacrifice for her Weyr, losing her dragon.  And so what, they now viewed her as useless?  As someone that had to be paid to be kept?  They should be thanking her, day after day, thanking her for what she had done, for what she had given up.  Not seen as a burden!  Poor Tyne!  To have fallen so far, well that in and of itself would have been unbearable for her back in the day.  And if that's how they felt about her, what would happen to him if he ever lost Vastolth? 

{{But you won't.  We're going to live....well as long as dragons and Riders live.  So you won't lose me.  Silly thought.}}

His anger wouldn't do her any good, so he took a breath and listened to her, took the flask and took a long drag of it.  As she closed her eyes, he stared at her, drinking in the details of her.  He'd forgotten so many of them, his memory of her having grown fuzzy in the details the way memories often do.  And now he sought to realign those details in her head, fill them into his memories and his vision of her.  He didn't want to lose those ever again.

He glanced up at the faire as she spoke about them.  "Is that why you have so many?" he asked.    


Re: Fruit Destruction at it's Messiest (attn: Ysolde, Qioyon)

Nutmeg
 

"Fruit!" She laughed, shaking her hair from her eyes as it bounced forwards. "I'm not going to ask why fruit, but that's definitely something a bit different!" People normally went for something more... well, permanent. Like a drawing or sculpture. Well, you could consider fruit as a media of choice if you were feeling especially creative. "If any of those pompous Harpers ask, you can say it's an expression in the frailty of emotional constructs. That will impress them."


On Tue, Mar 24, 2020 at 6:40 PM Mya L. R. <mleesan@...> wrote:


On Tue, Mar 24, 2020 at 3:46 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
Now that she stopped to properly look at the kid, it was apparent that he was pretty much plastered in stains and with his talk of fruit, that correlated with some of the colours she was looking at. "I'm not sure what you've been up to but to get that much on you meant it had to be good fun!" So he was a bit messy. She... just didn't want to touch him. Stickiness made her a bit... yeah. She didn't do stickiness. But she was also about his age at one point and she also remembered that she had a tendency to come home with more than a few smudges herself - especially if she had been gem hunting.

Qioyon ducked his head, sheepishly, as that brought his attention back onto why he'd gotten so messy.  Still the mention of 'good fun' made him snap his gaze back toward Ysolde, with a grin spreading across his face, lighting up his expression from it's previous gloom.  "I was making a dragon outta fruit!  Well, maybe dragon, it was more flit size and didn't look quite right, to me at least, but hopefully it'll make them think of a dragon rather than a flit!"  He said bouncing in place and obvious being more than willing to explain at least part of what he'd been doing. 


--
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Member Name: MyaL
Discord: Neffeyn#8723



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Sleepy Crowds Attract the Masses (JP - Tyne/Cremsden)

Nutmeg
 

She was bored. Bored, bored, bored. It was becoming a more common occurrence these days that she spent her days wondering just what to do with herself. It wasn’t the same when the days had drifted by in a messy blur of time. A good portion of the past few turns has been just that, a blur that she couldn’t pinpoint no matter how hard she tried. She had dragged out her chores, dragged out bathing and oiling the brood but even now, it was barely lunchtime and she was bored, bored, bored.


Although Idri didn’t live with her anymore, it didn’t stop Tyne wandering down towards the Infirmary. Maybe she could find something for her to do. Even laundry. She was making her way down the familiar tunnels lined with the Healer officers when her thoughts prickled. The constant chatter of the numerous firelizards in the Weyr was a haze of constant tickles in her mind but when she got closer, it sharpened into further clarity. They felt… lazy… comfortable and very sleepy. She recognised that feeling. She had leached off it often enough to sneak her own naps. It was an intoxicating feeling. She drifted along the tunnel, letting the sensation tug at her, following it’s strengthening as confirmation that she was getting closer. She stopped outside a familiar office door. Cremsden’s door? But why would it be so loud here?


*


And yet there it undeniably was, a mass of drowsy comfortable thoughts, welcoming and calling to other firelizards. Not one voice but a fair of them, less talking than just being comfortable in each other’s presence. Here is safe, here is a good place to nap, no-one will chase you, it is comfortable and -- added almost as an after-thought - there are snacks.


She drifted closer, pulled in by the cluster of sensations. The doziness filled her thoughts, making her yawn hugely as she tried the handle to Cremsden’s door. “Where are you?” she called out softly, though it wasn’t apparent who exactly she was talking to. “Are you in here?” And she pushed the door open, looking inside, feeling for the faire, lured by the sensation of safety and comfort.



The door opened easily and a dozen or so small heads lifted to see who it was. Bitey hummed reassurance that no, he knew this one, this one was safe and they settled again. 


There were firelizards stretched and curled everywhere - on the shelves, on the desk, on the chairs. Firelizards resting, firelizards napping, firelizards feeling safe. 



It was like opening a door to a particularly hot room. Like in High Reaches when you came out of the freezing tunnels and into a room where a stove or fireplace was burning and a wall of heat hit you in the face. Except this wasn’t heat, this was a wall of feeling. The only one of her own faire with her was Bobbin, the tiny Callamere squeaking a soft greeting as Tyne stepped into the room. She wasn’t there to challenge or cause trouble, just keep her one safe. That was all. 


Her eyes were the size of saucers as she took in the sight and she resisted the urge to let out a soft squeal of excited glee. If she could have a room anywhere in the world, it would look just like this. Being so close to so many was intoxicating and the waves of comfort rolled over her. Concentrating, she did her best to exude friendly calm. Friend. Safe. 


Bitey chirped a brief welcome to Bobbin, but even that was drowsy, more an acknowledgement than a true greeting. The firelizard on one of the chairs rolled a little to the side, as though to suggest that it might be fine to share as long as she could manage not to take up too much space.


As far as Tyne was concerned, she had just discovered the happiest place in all of Pern and it was filled to the brim with dozy, content firelizards. With Bobbin clinging to her shoulders, she had seen the blue roll onto his side on the chair. Could she fit there? She was sure she could, so long as she was careful. Beaming from ear to ear, Tyne gingerly let herself sit down on the edge of the armchair, trying not to disturb anyone, least of all do anything to make them all disappear and burst this bubble of absolute bliss.


The blue clambered onto her lap and there was peace, lovely peace, with nothing to disturb it other than the occasional firelizard arriving or stretching before it vanished between. The minutes stretched long and lazy and quiet.


And then the door opened and Cremsden hurried in and stopped dead, obviously taken aback. Not so much by the firelizards, he was used to them by now, but they usually served well enough at keeping the place private that he’d stopped bothering locking the door. “Oh, er, I--” He felt the strange need to apologise for the disturbance, but it was his office!


Meanwhile the firelizards paid very little attention, though Bitey did throw out a suggestion that if Cremsden happened to feel like refilling the food bowl that would be very nice, thanks very much.


When the sleepy blue had clambered onto her lap as bold as you please, Tyne had almost imploded with delight. The dozy sensations washing over her made her own eyes heavily and in the comforting, lazy presence, she had felt her own eyelids become heavy and droopy.


As the door opened and her eyes opened again, she wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. She was just beyond delighted that this wonderful room hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. No, as her eyes focused and she looked around, they were all still there. Hearing Cremsden’s familiar voice brought her attention round, giving him the widest smile.


“I could feel how sleepy they were. So I came to find them. They said it was safe in here.” She spoke with the hushed tones of someone convinced they had just witnessed a Turn’s End miracle, but the absolute joy on her face was easy to see. 


“Oh. Er. Yes. They have been napping in here lately.” Cremsden looked around, as though seeing his office for the first time. “I suppose there are rather a lot of them now.”


Bitey repeated, more loudly and clearly as though talking to a small child, that it might be nice if someone refilled the food bowl. Absent-mindedly, clearly not really knowing why, Cremsden obediently reached for where he kept a container of biscuits from the kitchen and topped it up.


“I don’t mind,” Tyne breathed raptly, her eyes taking in all of the small bodies that seemed to be in every nook and cranny. “I think it’s wonderful. If I had an office I would keep it filled with firelizards.” Not that that would be practical in any shape or form, but right then it seemed like the most wonderful notion in the world.


She watched as Cremsden obeyed Bitey’s request for food, stifling a giggle. He might not be a gold but the little blue was certainly the ruler of the roost. As the biscuits tinkled into place, Bobbin perked up, politely enquiring if she too might partake.


“How do you make them come here? Bobbin has to tell the flock to stay away and play so they don’t annoy too many people.” Because if she had her say in it, she would happily walk around all day with firelizards hanging off every inch of clothing. And even though she could make them if she really wanted, even she had to concede to common sense.


“Make them?” Cremsden very gently shooed the little green off his chair and onto the desk so he could sit down. “They just-- I don’t know. They talk to Bitey I guess.” He reached automatically to pet the one-winged blue as Bitey waddled over to tell him he was a good human and well done at the food bowl filling. “You’re putting on weight again, old man,” he said fondly, apparently not hearing a word of it but petting him anyway.


It was like nothing she had ever seen. Oh, she knew that the golds could compel others to stay and sure enough, she had seen Bobbin do it enough times long before she had her own cadre of flying monsters to make peoples’ lives miserable with. But a blue? She had never seen anything like it and it was enthralling. She paid attention to the blue that Cremsden was being affectionate with. Was it because of his wing? Maybe he was lonely. There was a plethora of questions that was bubbling at the edges of her thoughts.


“They don’t seem bothered by you either. Most wild firelizards vanish when someone gets too close. But they seem more than happy to just… be here. It’s a bubble of… safe.” And safe was always so, so good.


“Oh. Well. Good, I guess?” Cremsden glanced around again, as though just noticing quite how very many firelizards there were here. “Maybe it’s that there’s no dragon?” he suggested after a moment. “Nothing to eh, order them around. Or something like that.” Or maybe it was that the human in the space seemed to have just forgotten that firelizards weren’t meant to be there, carefully working around them rather than trying to disturb them. 


“Maybe it is something like that,” she agreed, watching the sleepy bodies all around her with rapturous attention. “Maybe something about here just feels good. You’re lucky that they feel so relaxed around you. They’ve got their own pocket of safety here and you could easily have just scared them away.” She couldn’t fathom it but she was by no means an expert. She was just someone who could understand them. It was why she wanted to spend some time at Callamere if she could but that was a discussion for another day. “Do you have to do anything for them? Like you do when they’re Impressed? Or do they just… look after themselves?” She was abjectly fascinated and oblivious to whether she  might be eating up the man’s time.


“Well, no, they’re not mine,” Cremsden said, sounding surprised by the question. “I assume they get food somewhere. They just.. hang out here, I guess.”


“Then that means you’re even more special. They want to be here and don’t mind you being in the space too.” Tyne spoke as though Cremsden was receiving some great honour but to her, that’s exactly what she had witnessed here. A tremendously rare honour. “I can only get them to stay when Bobbin tells them too. Or if I push really hard to make them stay. Or when my faire comes home. Never like this, so…. Calm and relaxed.” She pouted a little as though disappointed at the admission of her self- perceived failing.


“I mean, it is my office,” Cremsden pointed out mildly. “I am allowed to be here. Excuse me.” That last was addressed not to her but to the brown stretched across his papers. He tugged lightly on them and the firelizard obligingly rolled to the side to let them free. “Thank you.”


“But that’s the point, don’t you see? We’re so quick to stake our claim and don’t like to share it with anyone… or anything for that matter. But here you are, surrounded by firelizards and they’re just… calmly here.” Her torrent of words abruptly fell over as she eyed the brown, her good mood finally escaping into an audible giggle as the dopey firelizard rolled away. “But maybe you could use some boundaries.”


“They don’t seem to mind you,” Cremsden pointed out. “And they usually let patients sit down, though sometimes they might need a bit of shooing away.” He paused, contemplating that. “I guess there are some they tend to start vanishing around though, now I think on it.”


Tyne shrugged a little nonchalantly. “I think it’s because I can hear them. I can tell them I’m a friend the way they understand. Plus Bobbin helps. They just seem to… pop up when I’m around.” That was the only explanation she had, as crude as it was. Of course, she’d never likely know or even understand that they came because of that piece of her that continued to call out silently for Myrandith seemed to be heard by the small draconics. She seemed to suddenly notice that she had in fact invaded someone else’s space and for no good reason. “If you’re busy I can go. I… only came in because they were so sleepy and comfortable. I didn’t need to see a Healer. I was just… bored.”


“No, no, it’s fine.” Cremsden waved her to stay sitting down. “Nothing too busy going on for the day and you’re quiet enough. How are the headaches lately?”


Well, if anyone asked, she could tell them she had been good and had her regular check up. Even if it was an impromptu one. “Not so bad. Well… not so often. I’m getting better at making my own head space. Sometimes I can’t stop them but I’m getting better at noticing so I can find somewhere quiet and dark if I need to.” Sometimes it was all just too much, the combination of the chatter and the overarching screaming silence of Myrandith that made her head feel like someone had ripped out her eyeballs, stuffed broken glass in her skull and shaken it violently.


“D’you fancy letting me check your pulse while you’re sitting?” he suggested. “You’re relaxed enough that we should get a decent reading today I’d think?”


“Okay.” It was a sleepy permission but he was probably right. She didn’t mean to but the Infirmary made her tense, her thoughts leaping too swiftly to that terrible aftermath of Myrandith’s death and making her pulse quicken. She pushed up the sleeves of the tunic she was wearing, eyes tactfully turned away from the jagged mess of scars on her wrists. “What do you think I should do? To be useful, I mean.”


“Useful to who?” Cremsden asked absent-mindedly. He knelt in front of her, some part of ‘don’t be a threat’ engrained deeply enough when it came to certain patients that he didn’t even think about it. His fingers rested lightly on her wrist as he started counting under his breath.


“Well… to everyone. I need to earn my keep.” Never mind that Kassia received a generous monthly stipend from High Reaches for her care and upkeep, it was clearly very important that Tyne be considered useful. A contributing and useful member of society. 


“Something with firelizards?” Cremsden suggested. “Surely there’s work people need, helping training them and the like?” He sat back on his heels. “Pulse is probably best you’ve had. Mind if I do blood pressure?”


The dozy laziness made her easily compliant. “I’m so comfortable here. Like I’m in warm bubble of safety.” Her voice had the same sleepy quality of someone almost, but not quite, nodding off to sleep. “You can do blood pressure. I don’t mind.” There was something that seemed to suggest that she would do whatever Cremsden asked so long as it meant she could stay in this wonderful room of contentment. “I did wonder about helping people with their firelizards. Being that missing link to help them understand a bit more. I like helping people understand them. And helping them when they’re sad or hurt. I helped R’zzon with a teeny tiny green that stuck to his head during Threadfall.” It didn’t occur to her that Cremsden likely wouldn’t have a clue who the Bluerider was but the sing-song note in her voice was almost akin to someone who had had just a little too much to drink and their inner chatterbox was coming out.


“I’d send you to talk to the DragonHealers, reckon they could use someone to keep the injured ‘uns calm,” Cremsden said reflectively, reaching for his bag. “Probably not a good idea to have you too often in that side of the Infirmary though. You’d think firelizards and whers’d be classed with the BeastCrafters but they don’t like working with them.” 


Much as Tyne was, he was talking without thinking, letting his brain focus on the tasks he needed to do and his mouth work without much active contemplation.


It was comforting that he was intuitive enough to understand why she wouldn’t want to be there all the time. It was in fact the main reason why she hadn’t considered it to be a viable option. Helping the tiny firelizards? Not a problem. They were different. But being around wounded and even.. Dying dragons? That… was probably going to be a problem. Even Threadfall could be difficult but she could fool her thoughts into seeing that it wasn’t the same when a wounded dragon fell from the sky. Nope, not the same at all. “I did have an idea about that…” she admitted, looking more than a little guilty. “.... But it’s selfish because it’s about making things easier for me more than it is about making things easier for everyone. And the Weyrwoman already has the Whercraft Hall...” Her voice wandered as her thoughts idled round. “Maybe I should see if Callamere would like me. Maybe I could be useful there.” 


His quiet, non-intrusive actions were just as easy on her. It was one of the reasons she liked Cremsden. He just… did his thing, without making a fuss out of it. 


“For good?” Cremsden glanced up at her for a minute. “Well, we’d miss you.” Unclear who that ‘we’ was, maybe him and Bitey, maybe Arolos in general. “But it’s your life and as far as I understand it you’re not tied to anyone right now in the way a Crafter is.” Or a rider, but again, kinder not so say that. “In the end I guess you have to find where you want to be.”


He sat back on his heels again. “I feel like you won’t exactly be surprised to know your blood pressure is fairly amazingly low just now. You want me to write these up so you can confuse your girl, Idri, with them?”


Tyne shrugged and the sleepy contentment faded a little bit showing the lost uneasiness she felt. “I don’t know. I… don’t really know where I fit anymore. I guess…” she paused, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Cremsden about all of this. “... I guess I worry that I’m just a drain. That I’m not doing anything useful for anyone. I don’t like that now I’m… thinking better again.” It was a tactful way of explaining where her mind had been going with her progress when for a good long while, she had been too lost in her own mind to even properly notice.


She had giggled at the comments over her blood pressure. “Yes! Just to really confuse her. Even if she’ll probably insist on taking it again herself because she’ll be convinced it can’t be right.” 


 “Pfft. I’ll be doing damage to my own reputation here and ability to take basic measurements,” Cremsden teased, but reached to write them down regardless. “Hmm. You know, I’m not sure the DragonHealers would actually object to having firelizard work moved out of the Infirmary,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s not exactly viewed as serious work in there, just the kind of thing you assign to a senior apprentice or at best a very junior journeyman on a slow day and.. They don’t tend to have the ego to object to a change of scene. Also it empties the waiting room a little.” He grimaced. “These fellows are peaceful enough but set a pair of squabbling green flits next to a patient with a migraine and no-one is happy in fairly short order.”


A similar thought had been what occurred to Tyne but it felt both so outlandish and even, presumptuous that she had shelved it as a quiet pipe dream of “maybe someday”. That she hadn’t received a hearty scolding from Cremsden for being so self-absorbed caused her to immediately and visibly relax again. “Even just a small workshop type space. Where people could come. Get basic care or help and advice. Nothing fancy. It doesn’t need to be fancy. Most times people just want help with training ideas, basic first aid, oil supplies or harnesses and things to identify them as kept. Or somewhere a flit could be marked as owned.” 


She chewed her lip furiously as she spoke as though terrified that the next word she said would land her in a whole heap of trouble. “And I could help keep them calm and not cause trouble!” Because it was suddenly very, very important that she help keep naughty firelizards from causing trouble. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure how she did it.


Cremsden laughed ruefully, and glanced up to where Bitey lazed. “I feel as though if you take away the causing trouble completely then you don’t leave that much left in life for some of them,” he said, grinning even if he did look slightly exasperated. “Mostly I figure if it doesn’t involve outright destruction we’re probably doing okay.”


“Oh not permanently! They’re at their most marvellous when they’re doing something naughty. Even if we don’t like to admit it. It gives them their character.” The beaming smile was back, brushing away the nervousness that had been there before. “Only when we do need them to sit still. Like when they’ve snagged a wing and don’t let anyone touch it.” She looked around the room, sighing happily again. “You are exceptionally lucky. Even if they must be exasperating. But to be trusted so openly? That is a privilege.”


“It’s-- I wouldn’t--” Cremsden searched for words again, standing back up and stretching before he reached very cautiously to gently rub Bitey’s head. “I don’t like thinking of him as ‘mine’, you know? The idea of having him under control feels all wrong. He’s not mine. He’s his own. He might be an ass sometimes, but so are humans, it’s allowed. Training it out of him.. Wouldn’t be right.”


Bitey stretched and yawned under the attention. The question of who might be training who in that relationship was probably open to interpretation.


She actually understood what he was saying. And very clearly so. “We wouldn’t assume a dragon belongs to anyone - they are a part of their Rider. But they are still unique. Firelizards are just the same. They have their own personalities. Their own quirks. Their own habits and wants. But a lot of people like to treat them like moving ornaments. Or vaguely smarter felines. But they have their own smart. Just not everyone sees that. They see smaller, simpler dragon. Therefore, smaller, simpler minds.” The words were very sombre, as was her face. She had come to understand them in a way that most likely never could. Unless with years of dedicated study. “We’re a part of their circle. Their structure. Sometimes we are in the position where that means we have the chance to see them. Feel them. But they can still make up their own mind whether they stay or not.” Even an Impressed flit could be scared away into the wild and would thrive. “I don’t own Bobbin. Nor Cairn or any of the others. But, if I am to take care of them properly, it helps if they know when it’s helpful to be… well, co-operative I suppose. I can’t explain it the way you might a dragon.”


Tyne paused, lost a moment in the longest speech she had given in… well, forever. Where was she again? “I don’t think we should force our wants on them. But sometimes, having the influence to help when it’s needed. That’s different. Especially if it’s to help them. If I can make Bobbin understand that I’ll keep her safe if she’s hurt, but that I need her to stay still so the Healer can help without hurting or scaring her more? Then I will tell. But there’s a time to tell.”


“Right!” Cremsden looked relieved at her understanding. “When it was needed for healing where his wing had.. well, come off, I could manage penning him. That was for his own good. But beyond that.. He’s himself. He gets to have days where he feels like being nice and days where he wants to be a jerk. And I might get to shout and swear at him a bit but I wouldn’t stop him. Not if he didn’t want to stop.” He made a face. “The only thing worse than having a day where you feel like tearing people’s heads off is having to spend it being nice to them for appearance’s sake.” He was probably talking about the firelizards’ viewpoint there. Probably.


“That’s why I like letting them go off and just, well, be firelizards.” Tyne leaned forward, looking sheepish as she whispered a little conspiratorially. “I think a lot of people like keeping their ornaments with them so they have to behave.” She indicated Bobbin who was sprawled over her back like some strange hump. “I don’t ask Bobbin to stay. She just does. Same with Cairn. But I encourage her to just go… be her. Even if it means I have to replace someone’s favourite tapestry that she tried to get a pretty thread out of.” Reaching across suddenly, she grabbed Cremsden’s hand and squeezed it. “I like talking to you.” she said suddenly, staring at him with her wide, dark eyes. “Thank you for not being different with me. Awkward.” 


Cremsden startled a little at the grab, a slight flinch before his brain caught on to what just happened and settled. His shrug was slightly awkward though, never that good at being thanked for anything. “It’s always interesting chatting to anyone who knows their stuff,” he said. “And when it comes to these fellows, you very clearly do.”


Just as quickly, the hand was gone, that tiny gesture of appreciation having been as alien as it was impulsive. But, like very few others, Cremsden was one of those individuals who was entrenched within her bubble of “safe”. And all he had done, if it could be considered as little as “all he had done” was just… be himself. No sideway glances of fear, no edging away, no awkward, stilted conversations. He had treated her like he would anyone else. And that was worth a dragon’s weight in marks.


“And it’s interesting for me to talk to someone who sees them as more than pretty carvings to parade around. I think I bore Idri sometimes. I think it’s all I talk about. She is patient with me. But she needs more than just talking about firelizards.” She had blushed deeply at his compliment. No one had ever praised her for knowing anything. She had never been exceptionally knowledgeable about anything, not in a Crafter way. “So… if I was to seriously think about proposing a.. Clinic of sorts. For firelizards. How do you think I should start?”


“Faranth. Uhm. Let me think.” Cremsden said, and considered, still absently petting Bitey as he did so. “I mean, I’m not exactly close to Master Larsin but I could have a quick chat to see if he’d meet you out of the Infirmary if you want. He might bite my head off but on the other hand he takes dragons seriously enough that he might view getting firelizards off their caseload as a blessing. Hard to tell with him.”


“I’ve heard he is scary… but very interested in everything draconic.” Oh yes, she had heard the name of the tetchy Master before, but had also heard of his deep knowledge and respect for the species and both of their smaller offshoots. “Would I need to… you know… write up some sort of proposal for…. The Weyrwoman.” And now there was trepidation on her face. Once, she would have considered herself on the same footing as the other woman, now… she was about as far down the ladder as you could get.


“Not a clue,” Cremsden admitted honestly. “Anything I pull together of that nature goes through K’ren. Quite happy to be one step removed from where decisions are made to be honest.” Fort had left him with his own edginess; it hadn’t removed his ambitions but he was still jumpier than he ever liked admitting. Rankers he didn’t know had a tendency to leave him tongue-tied and K’ren was a useful screen to stop him from embarrassing himself.


He scratched his head, pondering it. “Speak to Larsin,” he decided. “Might be if he loves the idea he’ll put it into action for you and no-one important needs to be involved. Guess it’s the only same as us running baby clinics to stop the new mothers fretting, and no-one consults anyone about how we do those.”


That made sense. She would speak to Larsin. And then decide from there. If she didn’t manage to talk herself out of it. She would much rather it was, to a degree, taken out of her hands. She wasn’t sure she exactly had the diplomatic skill set required these days anymore, anyway.


She fidgeted, suddenly starting to feel like she had outstayed her welcome. How long had she been there anyway? Time had become a non-existent concept in this room of comfortable, happy firelizards. “I’m thinking I should leave now. Before I find a blanket, curl up in a corner and never leave. And I’m rubbish at paperwork.”


Cremsden looked startled for a moment then laughed. “Well, you’re welcome to come back,” he said easily, apparently as happy to welcome her as a dozen stray firelizards. “Just let me know you’re here so I don’t bustle a patient in.”


The laugh was welcome, encouraging a small giggle from herself as she carefully maneuvered the blue sprawled on her lap, letting him puddle onto the seat. As she stood, Bobbin made her way back to her traditional position, only this time draped languidly like a stole. Clearly the bubble of contentment had seeped into the little Queen as well. “I promise not to follow the flits next time. Even if they promise really good naps.” The smile she gave him was warm and genuine as she carefully picked her way around the sleeping bodies towards the office door. As she reached for the door handle, she stopped. “And I’ll come back and tell you what Larsin says?” she asked hopefully, just so she would have a reason to come back - one that didn’t involve picking over her mind or checking her health. A normal reason. A good one.


“Don’t forget your notes. You need to come back to tell me about your girl’s reaction as well,” Cremsden said, passing them over with a grin. “I feel like we should do a run of really good ones just to make it extra confusing.”


More giggles. More than there had been in such a short space of time in a long time. “I won’t let her in on the secret flit room, not until she’s really confused.” 


“Pfft. I give it three visits before she’s in here complaining I don’t know how to do my job.” Cremsden winked at her. “Maybe two.”


“I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and make it five. Loser buys pastries at the next Gather. The really nice ones.” Her mood was soaring and it was a wonderful feeling as she pulled open the door, more than reluctant to step out of the bubble and rejoin the world again, glancing over her shoulder one last time before stepping through the door.


= End =



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: What Did You Accuse Me Of? atten: Kassia/Ysolde

Nutmeg
 

"Good day Weyrwoman," Nayari said with a slight bow before turning back to Ysolde. "Now then. I think you and I had better go and have a chat in my office." And there was an edge to Nayari's tone that said it wasn't a suggestion. Reluctantly, Ysolde slunk after her. And then, after all of this, she still had to face her father.

OoC: And end?

On Sun, Apr 5, 2020 at 5:51 PM sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:
"Have a good day, then," Kassia said. "I will be looking for those papers and see you soon."



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!