All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

01-12-01: Sittin' in the dock of the bay
You go to the Stone Pier. Nyla is sitting, or rather balancing on the edge of the Pier, legs dangling...

You go to the Stone Pier.

Nyla is sitting, or rather balancing on the edge of the Pier, legs dangling off and swaying with the gentle breeze. Nonchalant and peaceful, the girl has a chunk of bread in her hand and is breaking pieces off every now and again and eating them.

Relian doesn't quite skip, but his gait is loose and long, with the almost spring that brings an easy movement to it. Nyla is caught out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrows raising as he watches her for a moment, then moves closer. "G'day, Nyla," comments he with easy nonchalance, stepping up towards her. "Having fun?"

Nyla is startled, having been pondering in that unencumbering silence that had surrounded her, bar the occasional squawk of a bird of bugle from the watch dragon, and cocks her head around to shoot a glare at Relian, which quickly fades into a grin. "Hello, there, Relian. Yep, lots of fun." Green eyes roll, and she pets the spot beside her. "Care to join me?"

"Very exciting," decides Relian with a droll note to his voice, although he doesn't hesitate in shifting his position into that which allows him to sit upon the edge of the dock, without falling in. "All right. It *is* peaceful out here, if not...exciting." His legs move to swing gently, as he holds himself straight in posture, with the support of his hands behind him.

"'Tis." Candidate replies, tipping her head towards Relian whilst keeping her pine-needle green stare on the horizon before her, and what vessels that lie within it. "Finished your robe yet?" Nyla asks, her tone inquisitively curious. A lock of hair is brushed back behind her ear as she inquires, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

Relian's expression turns rueful, perhaps bordering on contrite, as he notes, "I sent home, and had my mother do it for me. I don't like sewing. She was more than willing to help." So that's a yes. He leans back, his own hair played with in the soft breeze, as his darker gaze follows Nyla's out to sea.

Nyla jerks her head towards Relian and narrows her 'brows at him, her lips parted slightly. "You're joking. I could have done it for you," Wan green eyes lower and move towards the horizon again. "Or helped you. Robes are things that you do yourself, y'know. For yourself."

Relian looks pained. He's not joking. In fact, he's actually pretty embarrassed about that. "Yes, but...I didn't want to seem stupid. And I don't mind. It's just a robe. Nothing special. Mother was proud to make it for me." Which doesn't stop that blush which spreads about his face, making him quite the picture. "I didn't think of you," he finally admits, staring off towards the water again. "I mean...well, I just didn't."

Nyla smacks her lips together thoughtfully, her expression laden with boredom and yet obvious confusion. "Really, Relian, I would have thought you not to be so... boring. I thought that if anyone you'd be the one to bother with doing the robe for yourself." A shrug is given, the girl offering a half-smile.

"I live to do what people don't think I will," decides Relian, with a rueful, twitching grin. He's amused by his stupidity, regardless. "But you're right. I probably should have. I'm lazy." He hates sewing, as he said. Half-smile is met with one of his own, which extends to a grin. "I assume you've finished yours?"

Nyla shakes her head, rolling pewter-green eyes to the side and sighing audibly. "I'm a Weaver. Of course I have. What normal Weaver candidate wouldn't have by the third sevenday of being in candidacy? Really, Relian, you amuse me with your ignorance."

Elle snugs Relian! Relian squishes you up against his body as he snugs you tight, winking lasciviously. Cute. Awfully cute.

Relian retrieves a sandal, which threatens to drop off of his foot, and into the water below. It's placed beside him, as he hesitates. "Well...I know. I just thought I'd ask. It was something to say." He's unphased by his ignorance, as it were, adding, "I'm glad I amuse you, though. It's surely something to brighten up my day. To know that I'm amusing." Or something.

Nyla doesn't turn her head, but simply moves her eyes to the very side and perks a 'brow to give Relian a long, thoughtful stare. "Yes, well." A grin nudges at her lips, and she gives into it, chuckling restlessly at the fellow candidate. "You're like that, you Holder people." Sage nod. "Amused by the most simple of things. So tell me, did the robe fit? And do the 'riders know that you didn't do it? I hardly believe they'd let you 'send away' to have it done, bar the very first few sevendays of candidacy, because otherwise if the eggs *did* decide to hatch you'd be in trouble.."

"Aren't you Holder by birth?" asks Relian, suddenly curious - it's something he's forgotten, if he ever knew. Dark-brown gaze rests upon the weaver-turned-candidate, while his other sandal is rescued, and pulled to safety. "It was a little small," he admits, suddenly finding great fascination in his bare feet. "Across the shoulders, and stuff. It looks as though I've grown, since I left home." A pause, and then he shakes his head. "No. They don't know. They'd probably make me make one, anyway, if they knew. -- It hardly took Mother a sevenday, anyway."

Nyla grins, seemingly pleased by this information before replying to the first question with a rather decided drawl. "No. Definetely not. I was born and raised at High Reaches Weyr." But we'll save him from the rest of her life's story. Finally, she offers: "If it's really that small, I can alter it for you, Relian. It would take no time t'all. I've only altered about three others and unpicked the purple embroidery on one." Cue rolling of eyes. Stupid people.

Relian's lips twitch in contrite amusement, his apologetic response quiet, "Oh. Sorry about that - I must have had you confused with someone else." Besides which, Relian considers himself a weyr person, now. He's at home. Well, mostly. "Oh, would you? And, maybe, if you could let me try and do some of it, it won't seem as if I cheated or anything." Eyebrows raise, eyes widen, "Purple embroidery? I'd rather die than be seen in that." Then again, a white robe is pretty much stretching it - even for Relina.

Nyla nods sagely. "Yeah, I'll help you out. Teach you a few tricks of the trade." At that, the girl winks at her fellow candidate and nudges him in the side with her elbow. "Anyway, it's getting dark. I think I'd better head back to the Barracks. I got in so much trouble for being out past dark last time." Eyes lift to the sky in quiet thought. "Well, we sort of didn't tell them where we were going, so I guess I deserved it." Shrugging, Nyla shuffles upright and grins bleakly.

"Thanks." He's not enthusiastic, but his expression, at least, is thankful. "Oh, all right. I'll see you around, then, Nyla," says he, swinging about in turn - although he rescues his sandals from diving off of the pier once more. "I'll bring you that robe tomorrow, sometime. When you're finished with chores." And when he is.

Nyla nods, tipping her head towards him and mock-saluting with limp fingers. "Farewell, dearest." And she's off. Amazing.