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Messages - Kyya

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A normal clutch will do us well. Essie wore her flying leathers, cleaned and oiled, to congratulate Vanelwynne and B'ron. She had not missed one clutching since the move to Fort Island, not even after Neisoth and Maelboroth had claimed Kalestath and Imyth, and she was not about to start now. Among the group of Jungle riders who arrived together, Essie clasped hands with her weyrmate as the group bowed together to Oriath, Vanelwynne, and B'ron. "A wonderful clutch," the greenrider praised. She smiled sweetly at the Jr. Weyrwoman and the man who, in her silent opinion, ought to be Weyrleader.

My congratulations as well, Oriath. Leremith.

Respects given, she tucked herself under her weyrmate's arm and winked at J'dan before the arrival of a young man made her smile. "I hope I was more...dignified in my excitement as a candidate."

"You weren't," D'kin assured her, folding his arms across his chest. Her blueriding brother snickered at the boy, shaking his head. "What a mess. You see his face?"

"Be kind, D'kin," Essie chastised, amused. "Someday that might be your nephew." Her expression soured visibly when two of the blackriders arrived. One of them the new...Weyrsecond. She shuddered to even think of that title for the man, T'veck. The other one, a weyrling, she did not know his name nor care to. The hands on her upper arms rubbed soothingly, and she leaned into her weyrmate, frown still plain on her face. D'kin muttered something under his breath, standing taller, and J'dan was moving away with some of the others. What is... Oh...

To say that Essie wasn't proud of her Bronzer friend and those who'd gone with him would be a flat out lie. She chuckled deep in her throat. Let them keep that weyrling away from her. Minath should be caught by a bronze. By one of ours.

Spoiler for OOC:
This is open! I just wanted to throw her in to comment on the Jungle Squad heroically protecting their pure baby queen!  :happy:

Weyr Bowl / Re: Ichor in the Water [ 26.5.2591; 5:10 PM ] || Event
« on: April 04, 2019, 11:03:15 AM »
One advantage that Lesserath certainly had was size. Though this was a big Snake, he was far bigger—all but fully grown and a hulking specimen of a Black dragon, where his previous narrowness in weyrlinghood had filled out into mass. As he fastened his teeth just behind its head and clawed at it with his talons, he would be able to feel the thing shriek against his flesh where it still had ahold of him.

But his quick actions meant that it wouldn’t be able to execute its normal roll. The twisting motion would surely have torn a sizeable chunk from Lesserath’s shoulder, severing ligaments and blood vessels alike. No matter how its powerful body might thrash now, the Beach Snake’s momentum was hampered by the large mouth gripping it by the neck. It tried to bring its short legs to bear on the dragon, but the positioning was all wrong; and when Lesserath heaved his head back up out of the water, with the thing’s teeth still caught in his shoulder, it couldn’t disengage fast enough.

There was a lurching pop, and the thing abruptly went still—its neck broken. Yet with all the time it had to pump venom into its would-be prey, Lesserath would be beginning to feel the sluggishness characteristic to a Beach Snake bite.

If he didn’t leave quick enough, he’d be in further danger from more Snakes or even the water itself.

Corvath, for his part, had distracted the Snake on him enough that it hadn’t bitten him—more concerned with hanging on, digging in its claws for purchase even as he attempted to dislodge it. Bleeding ichor now from where he’d managed to slice at it, it raked its own claws against his thick hide with the intent of giving as good as it had gotten. But with all of his movement in the water, for now, others hadn’t been able to draw close enough to bite at his exposed legs or belly.

Further out, Z’nel and Allieth were lucky. As the Green’s claws snagged at the Snake, it whipped around with a hiss to engage her. But she was faster—just enough so. And as her teeth sank into its soft belly, it screamed and bled into the water:  bringing more Snakes in close, but to feast on their fallen companion rather than Allieth herself.

The weyrling she’d tried to save, though, wasn’t so lucky. Faelith keened, high and sharp, nosing at her rider’s body and then pulling her close with her forepaws. Eyes whirling white with pain and anguish, she simply went Between with her dead rider.

Abruptly, another dragon’s voice rang out over the Cove, projected to all:  Sharpfish! Some of the smaller dragons had been directed to remain in the air, high up to avoid being jumped at, but low enough that they would be able to direct their larger counterparts to where the bulk of the Snakes struck at. And with the water frothing further out, one of the scouts had winged that direction to get a better look.

They’re attacking the Snakes! Those with dragons received a transmitted picture too:  the spike of dorsal fins and tails jutting up out of the surf, blood and ichor alike coloring the rough water. They were feasting on the smaller Snakes that were far enough from shore that the shallows didn’t offer any protection, and a number of them were working together to attack and drive back the larger Snakes, if not kill and eat them entirely.

They might be prey of the dragons and people on Fort Island, but what was that saying? The enemy of your enemy is your friend.

Spoiler for OOC:

Rather than continue to tease her, when Seth seemed embarrassed, A’lori just smiled at her. Her reaction was sweet, and he adored a good love story; she seemed happy with O’sir, and that’s all he ever really wanted for his friends. Plus, it was adorable. “Then I won’t bother you during your dinner,” he confided quietly, smiling still. “But I’d love to join you for lunch. I’m sure Queriluth wouldn’t mind me eating outside with her either.”

He almost always had, when she’d been younger, but with time they had both become a little more independent. It was just one of those things that naturally changed as the dragons grew older, he supposed; he’d noticed that many of his classmates had done similar things as they got closer to being full riders. No matter that they still had most of a turn left of training, their dragons were only a handful of months away from being full adults at this point.

And then, because he was curious, he asked, “Everything’s good, though? If you don’t mind me asking.” A’lori would give her a polite out of that topic if she wanted it, but he couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to still want to be with someone during two years of celibate and somewhat isolated weyrlinghood.

The warmth of the sands always started off appalling; for a man who prided himself in modest comfort, B’lye had grown a tid soft in his years of hometending. Such a strange concept, of course, for a dragonrider. Protectors, leaders, pillars of the community, and yet B’lye was essentially an overbusy stay at home mum with a bunch of highly adventurous children. He’d faked a groan when W’sar had sauntered off after making a mess of all his neatly organised files, but he was already standing to take a look at the board for who was in the weyr and who wasn’t. Out of all his almost-children in Mountain, W’sar he missed the most while he was away.

Plus, there was hardly a reason to keep any files if they weren’t for W’sar to paw through when the bigger decisions had to be made.

Given the scarcity of resources in the Weyr, B’lye could hardly keep a paper or even wax trail of who was in or not. There were proper records of what missions people were assigned to, but those were a lot more painful to rifle through to find the answers, so when his desk had been moved in, B’lye had someone carve in the names of Mountain riders, with a peg next to each. The system was simple, if there was something hanging on the peg, the rider was at home, if not, he’d have to search the records for where they were. There were a few crossed out names, but thankfully far less than the other wings, though each name still hurt to look upon. B’lye tended to remember who was where, but he wasn’t about to let W’sar down by having an off day, and he refused to forget the ones who didn’t come home, who wouldn’t have anything hanging on their peg again. He did briefly consider crossing out J’ken and Wa’by as a joke, but instead the two Assistant Weyrling Masters just had a permanent ‘at home’ hanging on their pegs.

After sending out the call to the few who were in, B’lye blew Uereth a kiss and headed towards the hatching sands on his crutches. Sending people nods or winks along the way where he thought it was necessary, and pretending he wasn’t going to be sweating through his leathers for the next however long. Still, B’lye knew his duty, so he grinned and bore it with his usual grace, but by Faranth the heat was oppressive, especially with bodies crowding in all at once.

He briefly waited for those before him to greet the Jr Weyrwoman and Weyrsecond. A bow and simple “congratulations to you both, another fine clutch,” would be enough, given they would already have so many greeting them. And B’lye quickly exited the scene to give someone else some room. He had always respected both of the two patrons of this clutch, so he’d be more than happy to continue discussions later, but no doubt there would be many coming to take a sneak peak at the only ‘normal’ clutch of the turn. At least they wouldn't have to deal with the pithy rumours about someone grooming candidates to kill off non-mutant colours this time, B'lye thought hopefully.

He was waylaid momentarily by another rider, and just missed Wa’by speaking to W’sar. Not that it mattered so much, he knew he would catch up with the Bluerider sooner or later, So instead B’lye headed back to W’sar’s side. The Greenrider was, of course, one of the people that came to socialise, as J’ken had thought, but he had to take the time with Mountain Riders when he could. So he waited patiently for which of their flock would show. Grinning at W’sar, he added. “Has our dear old friend Wa’by roped you in to spending one of your days off entertaining him with daring stories while he slowly poisons you with his attempt to practice his old craft, yet? I should warn you, Grog has been flying a little crooked for days.”

Spoiler for Tags:
@SanctifiedSavage for W'sar and @Inki for B'ron and @Vanelwynne for talking and @Jarakrisafis for J'ken and @Kyya for Wa'by
Also everyone who has a mountain baby is in the thread already except @Lyndi and N’iko <3

Mine Hall / Event Warm Bodies, Warm Beds [ 36.07.2591; 10:45 PM ] || Event
« on: February 09, 2019, 03:18:39 PM »
‘Proper’ Holders might call them nothing but criminals, but both Haleene knew that she, Cassaval, and the others had worked hard for what they had. None of this would have been possible without it, even if some of that hard work had included bribery, political maneuvering, and intimidation. That aside, this was still an endeavor that she was proud of:  just as they had successfully started up the first gambling den since the end of the Pass, it hadn’t taken long for support to flow in and be translated to something more. Things just wouldn’t be the same without a brothel too.

And as straight-laced as the Holders liked to pretend to be in the daylight, Haleene knew that this aspect of their business would be just as lucrative as the tables were proving to be. Perhaps even more so. Men that might not otherwise sleep with some waif of a drudge would pay good marks for the ‘legitimacy’ and ‘discretion’ of a proper whore.

Not only men, she supposed. But with the state of things for Holder wives, she’d bet most of their clientele would be.

They were already doing a brisk business even this early in the night, and not only in flesh; offering lower prices for commodities they already sold—alcohol, betting, and smokeweed sticks among them—seemed, at the outset, like an idea bound to lose them money. But with patrons already feeling like they’d won something through it, they’d stay longer, drink to greater excess, bet higher, and be more easily swayed by the charming attentions of the whores moving about the betting floor.

For the moment, things were calm. Loud, but calm. And tucked away this far from the residential areas of the Mine Hall, safeguarded by Peacekeeper patrols that would keep people away from ‘unfinished tunnels’, Haleene was confident the night was already beginning. Cassaval seemed to agree, as he flashed her a smile from his place near the bar.

Spoiler for OOC:
Along with a gambling den, the Mine Hall now as its very own brothel attached. :3 Haleene, like Cassaval, is an unranked but adoptable NPC. As ever, anyone is free to make a member of their gang or one of their employees, either as an MNPC or PC. You’re also welcome to check into the OOC thread or go there for additional information!

Savi listened with mute emotion as Oarlen and Ysveta pledged their respective selves toward the betterment of the next Kalestath clutch. Hadn’t they already done what they were told? Immovable Ysveta and dutiful Oarlen, and Savi herself had never really stood a chance from the get-go. She wasn’t sure what else they could do, or what they might accomplish in the future, but regardless she nodded her head. At least a unified front provided some strength. “I’ll do my best, too,” she promised, banishing those dark thoughts away for the time.

Falling quiet again, she allowed her eyes to track her fellow candidates and their teacher as a few more questions were asked and ideas panned out. As expected, no further concrete plans could be made though. They were just as inexperienced with this as O’sir and the weyrleadership. The difference in their circumstance was just.. A little more dire.

She felt an itch somewhere, probably a tightening stitch or a sore muscle, but the numbness of her lower body didn’t let her identify exactly where. It was a weird phantom sensation and it had her twisting around as much as she could, as if resettling would scratch it. Her flits chirruped their concern and restlessly flicked their tails and wings until she found a more comfortable position that they, too, could nest themselves in once more.

Oarlen then asked something that she hadn’t even considered- had dragonets been hurt? Her brows knit and she waited for an answer.

Weyr Bowl / Re: Magnetic Everything [14.07.2591, 4:30 PM] Flight
« on: January 30, 2019, 04:39:30 PM »
Tilioth approached the ground, as perpendicular to it as a mathematical question. She no longer fought this idea, to surrender so many leagues of the sky. This space down here could be conquered, too. At the same time, she realized with some self satisfaction that all of her suitors had finally joined the chase. It gave her courage, but also over confidence.

C’dus, caught somewhere between sky and ground, was momentarily brought back to his weyr as a ‘Careful,’ was suggested somewhere quite near. He recognized M’lan in the way that Tilioth saw Corvath, dark and a little dangerous and the rider’s none-too-friendly tone certainly ignited the thought. C’dus in his correct mind might’ve cautioned his actions, but dark and dangerous didn’t feel so worrying right now. With M’lan already putting distance between the two of them, C’dus could only shrug in a helpless way. “Make me,” was his slightly slurred, and terribly dorky response.

Oxygen swelled into the lungs working so hard in Tilioth’s chest, and she exhaled in one long motion. The returning atmosphere should’ve cleared her thoughts, but her exhaustion was winning the war over her mental state, too. Instinctively, she could feel her cohorts behind her. Some part of her wanted to gravitate toward Corvath, but it was a fleeting feeling and he was too far back, besides.

Curiously, it was two Brown dragons that felt closest. One was the sweet talker, and the other hadn’t said a single thing. She didn’t know them, but in her current state that seemed okay. This flight might have begun with a desire to show off everything that she was and everything she offered, but if it ended with a strange dragon that had no prior thoughts to her, and therefore no expectations, that was okay.

Tilioth’s wings still cradled against her, but then through her musings she remembered. The ground.

Her wings snapped open, more in response to fear than any real threat. They were still far above the ground. What this move meant, however, was that Rhymoth, so close on her tail, would either collide into or catch her.

Spoiler for Hidden:
a post finally! Gonna name Rhymoth the winner unless he somehow fails to catch, and then it'll be Sath. @Inki @SanctifiedSavage , maybe next time Corvath :D

Weyr Bowl / Private Talk Shit Get Hit [ 26.7.2591; 4:23 PM ] || T’vye & J’dan
« on: January 27, 2019, 08:49:11 PM »
Though it had yet to rain, the sky had been threatening precipitation all day. A thick blanket of dark, angry storm clouds hung low over the island, close and oppressive enough that it almost seemed like anyone could reach out and touch them. The deep, gloomy grey and purple of something approximating a bruise, they were accompanied by an endless rumbling of thunder, like some giant dragon growling its displeasure to all of Pern.

Not exactly a day when most would want to be outside, but at least it wasn’t wet like the constant drizzle that had persisted throughout the previous one. It was that alone that had coaxed R’kan out into the Bowl after the afternoon’s classes had ended. Hisketh was fed and oiled but still awake, bright-eyed and alert with no signs of tiredness yet creeping into their bond. As rare a thing as that was proving to be so far, this early in her life, her rider was eager to take advantage of such an occasion—even if all they used it for was to relax together and watch the Wings at their work.

Sitting perched on a low outcropping of stone, R’kan had leaned against the bracing slope of the volcano that housed the Weyr. Hisketh was pressed close to one of his legs, wings slightly fanned out, as he absently rubbed along her headknobs. The relatively cool weather didn’t seem to bother her much, but R’kan was thankful to still have a wherhide jacket he’d been given as an apprentice Miner. While originally intended to provide some protection to his clothes in the mines—and to him in the event of falling rock—it was serviceable in otherwise blocking the wind that tugged this way and that at his short hair.

For the moment, his attention had been drawn by the reappearance of Jungle Wing in the Bowl, their daily hunt cut somewhat short though he didn’t know by what. Maybe wherry were harder to flush in such weather? Whatever the case, he’d been enjoying observing them from a distance, and thinking on the future. With Hisketh at his side, he could imagine no other Wing he’d want to be part of—and though the young Red didn’t yet know much of the world, she’d wordlessly made it known that she supported him in striving for the best.

But a scowl crossed his face, and he turned to the left when the wind carried a voice to him that he recognized. When they’d first had their run-in at the game of dragon poker, R’kan hadn’t known the other boy’s name, but now he did—T’vye. He’d made a point of learning it after the fact. It paid to know who your enemies were as well as your friends, and there was no doubt in his mind that the Bronze weyrling was among the former. His attitudes about the mutations had made that clear enough.

He was younger than R’kan, but a much older Bronzer’s arrogance seemed to have come standard with him. Largely, R’kan had been intent on ignoring him on the few occasions that they did cross paths in the common area of the Weyrling Barracks or elsewhere. After all, he had more important things to do than bicker with the fucker at every opportunity. But sitting on his perch slightly above the proceedings, he was treated to T’vye’s audible diatribes as the wind continued to carry them to him.

Anger blossomed in him, quick and easy and familiar. The longer he listened, the more it grew. According to what the boy was saying, the combined influence of the Reds and Blacks in the weyrling classes made it impossible to learn, requiring him and his dragon to do extra training to make up for the distraction. The former made nothing but messes, and the latter were pretenders to what the Bronzes were meant to be, and nasty besides.

“Stupid fucker,” he muttered, vitriol burning inside him like a flame, and Hisketh was inclined to agree.

As far as R’kan was concerned, he’d done a remarkable job of keeping his impulses under control—that was, until T’vye launched into another series of complaints about Reds in particular to the man he was speaking with:  a Jungle rider, if the distance hadn’t misled him about the color of the man’s knots. As the wind flicked the latest complaint in his direction, though, R’kan found himself rising and jumping down from the ledge where he’d climbed.

”At least firelizards aren’t completely useless.”


He knew Hisketh was right behind him, dogging his heels despite his longer strides, but that was a far away thought as he stormed over to where T’vye and the other man were talking. Eyes dark with anger, he stopped just short of T’vye, not realizing that his hands had already balled into fists at his sides.

“Hey. What the fuck is your problem?”

What answer he expected, he didn’t really know. After all, he’d spent the last several minutes listening to exactly what T’vye’s problem was. But with the blood thrumming in his ears, he hadn’t thought that far ahead:  just to confronting the pretentious little fucker and putting him in his place.

Someone more capable of being objective in the moment would have recognized that he was looking to pick a fight.

Spoiler for OOC:
@Kyya @SanctifiedSavage Let me know if anything needs changed. >:3

S’ric had just about managed to wind it all up, nice and neat, when the tail end of it was suddenly not moving. Like a wherry pouncing on a rabbit, there was now a small red monster attached to the end of the strap that had been trailing him. Were S’ric the sort to sneer, he would have. Instead, his cool grey gaze watched the runt impassively.

There was a brief moment where it seemed like he wouldn’t do anything about what was happening. Where he’d let the little monster claw up and chew on the strap to its little heart’s content. But S’ric had been dealing with an obnoxious dragon for the better part of a turn now and his reflex response, then, was a swift, sharp kick to the dragon’s snout just as the supposed owner arrived.

Such a kick had been used to get Dakrith in line when he’d been growing up. S’ric didn’t know that the little red was still quite young, but truth be told, he didn’t give a damn either. He turned his attention to D’via, realizing she’d said something just as his foot had connected with what he guessed was her dragon.

No reason to be sorry now. He’d taken care of it.

S’ric was about to assume that was the end of the interaction when some other voice banged around his head. Female. Foreign. Alien. That kicked up S’ric’s anger like no other, and instantly – ferociously – it was mirrored in his dragon.

Had something else just invaded his mind?

Dakrith was across the weyrbowl and roaring his protest. Wings flared, he was a mass of movement. Kicking up dirt and beating his wings with enough force it would likely cause the smaller dragons to lose their footing unless their braced themselves. It had been an age since any dragon had spoken directly to S’ric – enough so that Dakrith’s memory of such an occurrence was nonexistent. He reacted as though this was a new occurrence.

Don’t you ever talk to mine unless you are invited to do so, he hissed, lips pulled back in a feral sneer that his own had been lacking. Bringing his maw close to the little green in a physical warning as his own voice, not as smooth nor ‘regal’ as Atissyth’s, filled up the little Green’s mind. Dakrith’s voice was a presence, a weight and space. Not a yell, but a heavy sound that left space for little other than what he said.

S’ric’s anger had to be reigned in quickly, as was custom, to deal with his dragon. While he frequently allowed Dakrith to impose whatever lashing he liked on other dragons, the green was just... small. He’d likely kill her and that sort of trouble wasn’t something that he wanted. Not yet.

//That’s enough,// he said, thought as cold as the Fort winters.

Dakrith reared up and took one step back. Putting him right next to S’ric. Looming over the other weyrlings as he drew himself up to his full height. S’ric, looking for all the world like his dragon’s display had been perfectly normal, said, “Perhaps you should teach your dragon some manners. It’s impolite to invade another’s mind without being invited in.”

@Jarakrisafis @Tyriani


J'dan supposed that the thrice cursed Black Riders couldn't be banned from the Hatching Sands. Not when one of them were the Weyrleader and the other, somehow, was the Weyr Second. Everything seemed to be falling down around them, like a new Thread Fall, and everyone seemed just fine with it.

Not J'dan and his handful of friends, mind, but they were smart enough not to say anything on the Hatching Sands. The last thing any of the Jungle Riders wanted to do was upset the brooding Queen or any of the Weyrwomen present. They didn't care about the feelings of the Black Riders. It was just all about propriety and being respectful Bronzers - which they all were. The hierarchy still meant something to J'dan and he wouldn't do anything to rain on Vanelwynne or B'ron's clutching. He was a Jungle Bronzer, and he'd hold himself as such.

What J'dan and his little group of Jungle Rider's did do, however, was move to join Nalata once they'd paid their appropriate respects. It was mostly to introduce themselves to a future Weyrwoman, but also to edge out the Black Rider that had moved a little too close for comfort. No need to let them taint another Gold Rider.

J'dan flashed Nalata a polite smile. "I don't think we've ever been, really, properly introduced." At that, he offered her his hand. "J'dan. Jungle Wing." Nothing wrong with getting to know her now, was there?

Spoiler for OOC:


Announcements & Events / Re: MNPC Rules Update
« on: January 26, 2019, 10:15:24 AM »
Just clarifying all the things and makin' all of it easier, while trying to keep credit where it's due and keeping things from gettin' unnecessarily messy. XD

B'ron narrowed his eyes at Wa'by's greeting. He hated the man's casual vernacular, but couldn't deny that he'd been successful enough in her pursuits so far. With the Weyrling supervision falling under Vanelwynne's purview, conversations had been had as to the efficiency of the staffing arrangement. From all reports, Wa'by was a fine Assistant. Even if he did keep the Weyrlings on their toes.

With the occasion being so... formal. He chose not to react any more negatively to Wa'by. The rest of the greeting had been decent enough he supposed. Taking the blue rider's hand he completed the formality. "Leremith and Oriath have indeed produced a fine clutch." Perhaps there was a slight emphasis on the correct pronunciation of the dragon's names that slipped through.

Never the less, B'ron was not going to subject himself to deciphering the man's rambles longer than possible and once the shake was completed, he fixed his eyes over Wa'by's shoulder to the next person in line to congratulate the clutch parents.

A new Weyrling addressed Oriath directly, mostly ignoring Vanelwynne and himself. Not rude persay, still well within the unspoken rules of engagement. She was followed by a bronzer holding a young infant. As long as it kept quiet, B'ron wouldn't object. He had never been one for children, but allowed Wynne to address the child should she wish to. The bronzer was given a nod in return for his, and a smile at his hopes of future impression for his son. Only those that knew B'ron well would know that the smile was completely false.

He was glad when T'veck, who followed V'len, moved on quickly after giving his congratulations. B'ron had no interest in talking to the boy.

The next well-wisher surprised him, sure that he had already seen the candidate approach him. He supposed he could ask why the boy had returned, but in all honesty, he didn't care. "A noble hope. Your bonded will find you when the time is right." That sounded nice enough, right?

Spoiler for Hidden:
Heeeeere we go.
Let me know if I forgot anyone, I tried to catch you all. If not I'll just slip you in in the next one :3

Weyrling Barracks / Private Worthily Borne [02.07.2590, 8 PM] T'vye, T'kos
« on: January 24, 2019, 07:53:37 PM »
A handful of days had passed since Kalestath’s latest clutch spilled onto the sands, bringing violence and chaos, but also a pact. T’rel and T’vye and W’lleni along for the ride, they were determined to bring something like order to this weyr before it went too far off the rails.

It wasn’t an easy idea, not when half of your clutch mates were paired with abominations. It was especially frustrating to see them go from full on horror at the damage caused by the Reds and Blacks to being completely enamored in most cases. Worst still, there were those peculiar pairs like Dakrith and S’ric that seemed as eager to go to war with each other as much as anyone else.

He knew they needed to act quickly, gain what allies they could and establish some grounds upon which they could grow. A day or two of trying to sway Ya’lin had only left him frustrated, but he had more faith in T’kos, her roommate and the third Bronze of the entire clutch.

“Ugh,” T’rel voiced, to himself and probably T’vye in their rooms that evening. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. Three Bronzes. That’s it. We’re an endangered species.” He cast a fond glance toward Nynath who slumbered contently on his bed. The dragoncouch promised comfort for a much larger beast, but the dragonet clearly owned the space nonetheless.

The weyrling stood and stretched his arms to the ceiling, enjoying the pop and pull of muscles and joints before he turned toward T’vye. “Think I’m gonna head to Ya’lin’s room again, see if I can catch T’kos and feel him out. Wanna back me up? Bronzers gotta stick together and all.” It’d be more fair that way, even out the sides so Ya’lin and that Red roommate wouldn’t have the majority voice. Better yet, maybe they’d be gone.

“Plus he seems kinda young, he’s gonna need someone to look up to.” T’rel wasn’t exactly the best role model, he lacked some of that determination that T’vye had in spades.

Spoiler for Hidden:
@Kyya @Jarakrisafis, figure Kyya can get a response in and get them headed to T'kos's room if that works for you guys <3

Rider Weyrs / Re: To What End? [24.06.2591, 8 PM] K'eeda
« on: January 24, 2019, 06:56:10 PM »
Perspective was an interesting thing. While she felt no less foolish, her chest did feel less tight. She smiled through her reddened cheeks and shallow breaths and even allowed herself to bring a hand up to her hair, touseling it and airing the sweat on her neck. “I’m a mess,” she admitted, a way of apologizing for backtracking so hard on the progress she’d made the last few months.

It was funny how she strived so hard to not be the thing she was presenting to K’eeda. To be more than that narrow-minded holder her family had tried so hard to make her into.

“It’s not that I hate chores, I mean, I do, but I know a rider has that on top of the whole aspect of a dragon,” her eyes found Pip, Stitch and Russet in turn, what she’d thought of as baby steps toward eventual Impression. “I guess I just feel like I’ve earned it, but because I haven’t Impressed yet it makes me feel useless.” Even as she said it, she knew she was being a brat. Candidates shouldn’t need to be patted on the shoulder and thanked for their service.

“I’ve been so good, I’ve been obedient and I’ve limited distractions,” her mind skipped to Erinai and Calladren, who were still present in her life but not her sole interest. “I know I sort of lost it with Dart, but that hatching was hardly a normal situation and it’s not like I was aiming to get mauled, let alone him killed.” One of her hands skimmed along her calf, where the raised and still shiny-pink scarring would forever disfigure her skin. It hurt sometimes still, but not nearly as much as her heart did over the death of her flit.

“I understand what you’re saying though. It’s just hard to keep faith when time and again I see my peers make their Impression. I’m jealous and selfish, I know.”

Plot and Scheme / Re: Plot With Tyri
« on: January 23, 2019, 02:29:21 AM »
From that clutch, I have Vassatiere. She's sorta uppity, and her Red is a bit of a turd 8D So having them work together on some lesson might be an entertaining trash fire.

Beyond that, I have a lot of people just out and about in the weyr. Loressa is my dragon healer, so they might know one another? S'ric is my 'go to' bad guy, if someone needs a bad guy in their life. His dragon is a an aggressive monster. Lemme know whatcha think. <3

Even if W’sar didn’t really have a lot to do at such events, he just liked being present. Seeing the eggs, the activity of the Weyr. A flit on the cave wall, so to speak. Being a part of the comings and goings on and fulfilling his duty as Wingleader, even if he didn’t always understand what all that really was nowadays. He should just retire a Harper and call it a day.

That just seemed too cruel to B’lye, though. He couldn’t very well leave his friend to catalogue Pern on his own.

As he was standing off to the side, idly admiring the eggs, Wa’by came up to him. Caught him off guard. As the Blue Rider usually did. Since he didn’t interact with the man every day, it took W’sar a moment to process just what it was Wa’by was saying. The Weyrlingmaster Assistant had unique way of looking at the world and translating it to words. How anyone ever got lessons out through the man, W’sar wouldn’t ever guess. If anything, he was more impressed with the Weyrlings taught by the man. It took a lot of listening skills to pick up what he was really talking about.

W’sar was fairly certain that Wa’by had asked him a question, he just wasn’t sure how to answer it. So, rather than give an answer to something he wasn’t sure, what it was, he just quirked a brow and said, “It’s always a pleasure getting to see you, Wa’by.” Which was the truth of it.

He did get the bit about the invitation to visit and sample whatever concoction Wa’by had dreamt up, which did make the Mountain Wingleader smile through his thick beard. “Of course. I’ll let you know when my next free days are.” Since he followed a different schedule than the others, he’d be able to pass along such a thing to the Blue Rider. He waved off Wa’by when he wanted to go see B’ron, though. W’sar wasn’t about to go bother the Bronzer.


It was always interesting, or perhaps dryly entertaining to Halirina, being able to watch these ‘meet and greets’ when she was not the Weyrwoman holding the event. Having Vanelwynne and B’ron subject to the attention, the compliments, the questions and the lot of it. Oriath and her edgy broodiness over eggs she both wanted people to fawn over, but not get too close to. It was always a double edged blade, a Gold’s freshly laid clutch. A testament to a Rider’s relationship with their dragon that the giant Queens didn’t stomp around the Weyr afterwards and chase out all the other Golds, let alone all the other Dragons.

I’d feel better if you’d let me, she added, though there was a thread of humor there.

//I bet,// Halirina responded dryly. She knew her Queen wanted nothing more than to have the Weyr to herself when she had eggs hardening on the Sands. Halirina supposed Oriath must feel the same.

So she tried to remain off to the side and not draw too much attention to herself. This was Vanelwynne’s day, after all. If anything, Halirina just felt like a stuffy babysitter. Making sure everything went well.

Plot and Scheme / Re: Plot With Tyri
« on: January 22, 2019, 08:00:33 PM »
Actually my bad I read that wrong haha.

But a random oiling thread sounds good!


Plot and Scheme / Re: Plot With Tyri
« on: January 22, 2019, 06:50:37 PM »
I say the best way to see how someone reacts is to make at least one thread between them! Plus from what u have read of them, I love them haha. We could say they got put on the same chore or something if you want!

(Sorry if any typos on phone will fix later)


Arveli glanced at the shirt Wuarthir indicated, and set aside the one he was currently stitching for a moment to snag it. Holding it up, he made note of the damage that had been done to it, absently fingering the cut in the fabric. It was neat, and a relatively small hole—it wouldn’t require many stitches to repair at all. Smiling, he held it up to visually overlay it across his friend’s torso to get a better look at how it would be on him. “That will be fine,” he pronounced at last with a smile, quickly folding the shirt again so he could return to his present mending. “I think it’ll look great.”

He mused with due reverence on Wuarthir’s next train of thought. While it wasn’t exactly a question, he knew that the other man was asking for his advice, in his own way. Arveloriann wasn’t about to rush into an answer on a matter that his friend seemed anxious about. “With a shirt like that, darker pants would go with it best. For the contrast.” There were reasons for that, as Weavers knew for the purposes of properly outfitting the people they made clothes for, but he didn’t think Wuarthir would necessarily be interested in the intricacies there.

“After I finish mending, if you like, I can come look at them and tell you which one I think would be best.” Saying that, he added another smile. He knew that some might be self-conscious about such a thing, and he wouldn’t press if the other man didn’t want it—but if he did, he wouldn’t mind.

Weyr Bowl / Re: Keeping a Watchful Eye [ 02.05.2591; 4:00 PM ] || Oarlen
« on: January 11, 2019, 07:28:47 PM »
Seng was still relatively young themselves, but it was at times like this that they were reminded just how much the experience of being a rider could add to someone’s life. Oarlen might appear particularly young, but he was still an adult. Still a Candidate in his own right, and maybe sometime soon a weyrling too—which would make him a rider at a young age too. Seng could see how it might be easy to end up seeing a mentored Candidate like this as a little sibling: but would that really be appropriate?

He pushed that train of thought away for the moment to focus on the introduction instead. Oarlen certainly seemed polite, and his thorough greeting prompted another smile from the Blue rider. “Sure, they can come along. That many more pairs of eyes will be better for what we’re doing anyway.” He gestured to the curious flits now peering down at Oarlen and his faire from their perches on Forrikenth. “My two Bronzes are Heron and Skycourser, and the Green is Sparrow.”

Normally Seng wouldn’t have introduced them, but with the fact that the Candidate had done so for his, it seemed to Seng like it would be impolite not to extend the same courtesy.

Amused, Forrikenth rumbled a noise in response to the boy as well. Thank you. His voice, loud as ever with little to modulate its telepathic intensity, boomed into Oarlen’s mind like the loud clanging of a bell.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Seng continued, absently tapping their gloved fingers against their thigh. “We’re going to be on patrol duty for today—watching the Cove to make sure nothing is lurking around.” It was a serious assignment, but it was bound to be a bit fun for the Candidate too, since it meant they were going to be adragonback for the afternoon.

Plot and Scheme / Open Plots and Things
« on: January 11, 2019, 12:04:15 PM »
Dis new year...

Another year in SWW and it didn't exactly start off how I wanted, but life is slowing down after the holidays and I'm available to start creating threads should anyone be floating around to do so. There is also a chance I have missed a reply, but I'm going to be workin' through my Tracker just to make sure in the next day or so.

I'm also gonna be updating my character apps, but that's gonna take a bit of time.

Either way, all of my characters are up for threads. ^_^ So we can kick off writing. :love:

Na'va smirked at Vassatiere's snippy sounding response and was going to counter with an equally snippy one when Vassatiere continued. Slightly confused, but not overly put off, Na'va decided to just allow the conversation to keep going. She certainly wasn't keeping her mouth shut because she was afraid of offending anyone, just because she didn't care... sure... that was it.

She shrugged instead at D'via's comment instead. "Eh. Why should anyone else care what we've got to say to the Weyrlingmaster? Not like anyone else here is any more of an expert. We've all been Weyrlings for the same amount of time." Whilst the content of her comment may have sounded reasonable, Na'va was a little aggressive in the no-one-could-intimidate-her and she-didn't-care-what-anyone-else-thought ideas, and her tone showed it.

With D'via answering Vassatiere's question as well, Na'va raised an eyebrow. "Yeesh. So you want to be attached at the hip for the rest of your life?" She said... likely offensively. "I've got no one in the Weyr." She didn't have anyone in the Hold for that matter either. Good riddance. "You got family?"

Derraseth continued his game with Ysolth, the concentration required to win meaning that he was almost entirely ignoring the awkward getting-to-know-you conversation going on. If he had been paying much attention, he'd likely comment on Na'va's lack of social grace, if only to get a rise from her.

@SanctifiedSavage @Jarakrisafis

OOC Hang Out / Re: Cbox in the New Year
« on: January 03, 2019, 05:55:52 PM »
The simple cbox is $2 a month, which is easily doable. The premium one we had before was $9. Which we didn't mind paying when we were all spamming it. Since the popular move to discord largely, it doesn't make much sense to continue doing but I hear whatcha mean about just wanting to poke around.

In order to down grade the cbox we had, we need to renew it at the premium price for whatever reason so it'll be a week or so before Alan and I have the extra cash to do that, then I'll get the simple box set up. We have domain registration and RL bothering us first. 8D

Hatching Sands / Re: Some Blessed Tradition [ 20.7.2591; 8:15 PM ] || Event
« on: December 21, 2018, 02:34:39 AM »
The last few months for B'ron had not exactly put him in a good mood. After the introduction of another black into the Weyrleadership, this one just as inexperienced than the last, he had been spending his spare time in a state of blackened fury. Only Vanelwynne really suffered the repercussions of his mood, but it wasn't like Wynne had ever known B'ron when he was in a good mood.

As for the rest of the Weyr, they likely noticed little difference in him. Above all else, he knew how to control himself in front of the Weyr. Duty demanded it.

Leremith for his part however, was perfectly content. Oriath's clutch was healthy. His dragon memory remembered little about the details of clutch sizes, but his instinct informed him that the size was perfectly proportionate for the time. And so how could he not be content. The compliment from Kalestath, despite being conferred between the dragonpairs every hatching, nonetheless also made the father quite chuffed.

Halirina, W'sar and J'ken all received a nod of acknowledgement, and a few of the Jungle Wingriders who arrived together B'ron made eye contact with as he acknowledged their attendance. Despite S'bok's supervision on the Wing, in all they made him rather proud.

Leremith's cheerful mood was leaking into B'ron, and so the Weyrsecond's expression loosened marginally. If only relaxing his face just slightly enough as to not scare the pants off every one of the well-wishers. He did however narrow his eyes slightly at the stain on the candidate boy's cheek. But such minute details were below him to point out. The embarrassment of realising later on would hopefully make the boy not arrive in such a state in the future.

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