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.

09-05-01: Hair
Jerlana is parked in her favorite chair, tipped back just so on the back feet. Speaking of feet, hers are...

Jerlana is parked in her favorite chair, tipped back just so on the back feet. Speaking of feet, hers are thumped on the table before her in all their dirty boot-clad glory. Hands clasped comfortably in front of her, she watches some come in, some come out, all while whistling still off-key.

Hanneke comes in, notably, skipping with some dexterity towards the serving table, although a surreptitious glance is made, as if seeking out chore-givers, and attempting to ignore them all in one go. Cheerful nonetheless, she rewards the room in general with a rather loud, "Hihi!" Juice is poured, slopping over the edge of the glass, as she turns to face the room.

Jerlana's whistling pauses almost imperceptively at the overtly perky "Hihi!" hurled into the cavern by -- someone. She peers, picking up the tuneless whistle a bit. Does she know this one?

Possibly not--probably not? It remains to be seen. Hanneke takes steps towards a table, and sits, her eyes once again roaming the room, no doubt in source of entertainment.

Chandelle walks into the Room a smile on her face "Hello" she says

Jerlana is anything but entertaining. On a good day. Today is not a good day. The whistling dwindles, her eyesight failing her. Thumbs-a-twiddle, she decides she knows this one. Looks remotely familiar. Sorta. The reality is that she's never met Hanneke. Not even once.

Being under scrutiny is even percievable to Hanneke, whose head raises, tawny coife smoothed carefully by one hand. "Hihi," she greets, more personally, across the room. Loud enough, for everyone to hear--and to include Chandelle, should she choose to accept it.

Chandelle smiles at Hanneke "Hay how have you been?" she asks walkig over to the girl and smileing at the other girl in the room

Jerlana's dark eyes dart to the /other/ new one. Where are they all coming from? The lack of woodwork in the room suggests they're not oozing forth from there. It's like a plague. Recovering a modicum of politeness, she paints on a smile and raises one grimy hand in greeting to the cavern at large.

Hanneke's response to such an expressive greeting from Jerlana is simply a wider smile, gracing her face with dexterity against dainty features. With more noise, perhaps more suited to her persona of usual times, she responds to Chandelle, near bubbling with words; "I've been good, very good! And you, how are you? I've forgotten your name, if I knew it, I'm sorry, but I suppose names are only as important as we make them, or so Mother always said."

Chandelle smiles "I;m Chandelle but people call me Dell. I'm the asstent Headwoman here and the person who give the canadites chores other than the riders and other staff." she says (Forgot that part)

Jerlana listens raptly -- her eyesight might be iffy today but her hearing is quite acute, along with a few other senses. A Dell. That's short and easy to remember. Off at the Hold as watchrider, she loses track of who's who in the Weyr at large.

Hanneke's smile goes from delighted to woeful, all in a split second exchange. "Oh!" she manages. Then: "Hihi!" Such an intelligent response, and yet, entirely fitting. "I'm Hanneke, and I'm a candidate, but I've got plenty of chores."

Chandelle looks at Hanneke "All I realy have you all do is make sure this room and the Canadites barickes are clean." she says the adds "As long as you do that I'm happy"

A clean room. Jerlana's not contributing to that concept. Note the clots of dried mud dropping every once in a while to the surface of the table where she has them propped. And there seems to be a telltale trail of muddy boot prints leading in from the bowl. *Thunk* A newly deposited chunk of mud falls to the table -- this one seems to have some stringy bits in it. The bluerider resumes her off-key whistle.

Hanneke gives Chandelle a vacuous glance, nodding vacantly, her juice grasped with several dainty fingers. Nodding amiably, or perhaps just to pass the time, she turns her attention away from the Nasty Chore Person, mud regarded with some distaste, whistling evidently listened to with a practiced ear. A smile.

A smile? For whom? Certainly not for the squinty bluerider with muddy feet. Heavens no. Still, Jerla can't be sure so she smiles back. With teeth. In need of a cleaning, no doubt.

Hanneke would be the type to smile at random people she doesn't know, yes. And earning a response, she only smiles bigger. The charms.

Jerlana's teeth are swiftly hidden by lips. Lips are necessary for that infernal whistling. How ever does Shavoth stand it? Tone deaf, that's how. *Thunk* Another chunk of mud finds a new home on the tabletop. Jerla squints again, trying to remember this one's name. Futile, really, since they've never met.

Hanneke, thankfully, is equally tone deaf, and listens with the brightest of smiles, taking the occasional sip of her juice. Very futile, which is why she's not even trying. She just smiles, again.

Kr'lin enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Kr'lin makes his way into the cavern, this time carrying his leather's jacket, surprisingly enough, "Wonder if the heat ever stops around here." You'd think he'd know.. Having lived on the island for several turns, but at this point, he's only thinking hot.

Jerlana's boots drop mud on the table, her lips assist in a horrible tuneless whistle, her thumbs twiddle, and she keeps peering strangely at Hanneke. No reason, just staring.

Hanneke can stare back--and she does. Giggling, except without noise. She swings her legs beneath her chair, taking a loud sip of her juice, before she returns to just grinning, in Jerlana's direction. Is this some kind of staring competition?

Kr'lin would wonder what Jerlana and Hanneke were doing, but really, he isn't too inclined to wonder at the moment..

Jerlana's eyes catch the entering bluerider. Darn, end of staring contest. But the whistle goes on. She unentwines her fingers and favors Kr'lin with a wave. Wave wave.

Kr'lin would wonder what Jerlana and Hanneke were doing, but really, he isn't too inclined to wonder at the moment.. Well, anytime really, but that's beside the point, he'll just settle for heading over to the drinks and grabbing himself several mugs full of something cool and something liquidy. Then he's waved at, which, of course, gives him the opportunity to say, "What is that you are doing?"

Hanneke beams, offering, "Hihi!" Standard greeting, it seems. Her gaze removes itself from Jerlana as the bluerider glances away, and she focuses upon her juice with affable pleasure.

Contest declared a draw. Jerlana glances back at Hanneke as she replies to Kr'lin, "Well, me and ..." -- pause -- There's a desperate mental search for a name to insert here. "Me and Grendella here," she smiles brightly at Hanneke, "Were just sittin' and whistlin' and sippin' juice." A horrendous name choice for sweet Hanneke. And Jerla's likely to just use it forever, too.

Kr'lin hmms and haws as the explanation is being delivered, "Well, the sitting and sipping I don't have a problem with.. It's that..." He pauses as he tries to connect the word whistle with the sound Jerlana was creating, "...whistling, that just has to stop. Sounded like someone was choking a wherry or something.. Very painful." He meanders over to one of the many empty spots in the cavern and sets his mugs down in front of him. "Grendella? Odd name."

"Er," begins Hanneke flushing slightly. "I'm *Hanneke*. Han-ah-ka. Not *Grendella*." Silly. She smiles brilliantly, though, nodding her head rapidly. "That's right, though! That's all we were doing. I like the whistling." Tone deaf harper, at your service.

Jerlana of course is in her own little world and frowns at Hanneke. "Grendella, have you been choking wherries again?" For shame. Hardly the sort of thing a tone deaf Harper should be up to. And since her whistling has long since stopped, she really doesn't put the two together. "It /is/ an odd name, I agree," she says to Kr'lin. Then she lowers her voice and adds, "But we don't get to choose our names, now do we?" Pity the Grendellas of the world.

Kr'lin shakes his head a few times, "Not unless you Impress.. Then you can choose your own name.. Kind of.. Generally some combination of your current name.." Kr'lin actually did hear Hanneke's name, but he likes Grendella better, "Maybe Grend, or Della. Or, if she wants to go with the more masculine, Gr'ella."

"Or Gr'lla." That one has a nice ring to it. Jerlana simply gleams.

Hanneke frowns, blank expression showing absolute horror--and utter confusion, all in one. "No! No, my name is *Hanneke*. Not ugly horrible Grendella! And of course I haven't been choking wherries, why would I? I don't get it!"

Jerlana notes the arrival of another One She Doesn't Know from the proverbial woodwork. Her eyes flick that way and she squints again. /Does/ she know Klari? Doubtful. Not that she'd admit it, though.

Kr'lin could have sworn he heard something, must have been an insect buzzing in hears ear, just to check, insert pinkie, squeegee the ear a few times. After a quick examination of the pinkie to make sure there isn't any bug parts on his finger, "Gr'lla, I like that. Reminds me of food and I'm a big fan of food."

Hanneke's eyes fall upon Klari, and she verbally pounces the girl -- "Tell them that I'm not Grendella! I don't want to be Grendella. She's probably ugly, and has boring hair!" Oh, and hi; it's not as though she's ever met Klari before in her life.

Jerlana's squint fades into a quickly growing smile at the mention of food. "And conveniently, Grendella has been choking wherries." Yum. As if on cue, Jerla's tummy makes a monumental rumbling noise.

Klari's working on putting her hair up to get it off of her neck as she walks into the caverns and just basically sits down at a table with... people. She knows two of them for sure, but just sits and stays quiet for the time being as she finishes getting her hair in a 'tail just right. For her anyway. Klari smiles and laughs for a moment, "Grendella? Who's that? No... You're Hanneke, right?"

Jerlana leaps in to do the introductions. Uh oh. "Grendella? This is --pause--". Danger Will Robinson, Danger! "This is Pangene," finishes Jerla. "Pangene? This is Grendella." Names are just not her thing. Nope.

Support! Beaming triumphantly, Hanneke nods her head rapidly, agreeing, "Hanneke, yes. Not ugly, awful, unpopular Grendella!" Her list of epiphets continues to gain in number. "I don't choke wherries! I don't, I don't!" It might help, if she didn't continue to answer to Grendella. She peers at Jerlana, adding, "Pangene?"

Kr'lin nods very slowly towards Jerlana, "Good point. I could do with some cooked wherry about now." He points at Hanneke, "Hey, Gr'lla, shouldn't you be peeling tubers or something?" First the whistling, now the name thing.

Jerlana nods her head toward Klari. "Pangene."

"Pangene? Me? Where'd that come from?" Klari doesn't think she's ever even met Jerlana. Even though Klari's lived at the Weyr for some time... "I'm Klari." Chores? This late at night? She's got hers done with for the night, and she couldn't sleep with the heat, yet again.

Hanneke narrows her eyes, expression showing truly just how lost she is: other side of the planet, in a deep black hole kind of lost. "I'm confuuuusssed," she whines, smile fading for a rare, momentous occasion. "I'm not going to go peel tubers. No."

Kr'lin would note to Klari, that a candidate's chores are never done. Then, the whining, or the whining has begun, "What? You don't like peeling tubers? Hmm.. How about mucking out the stables? I'm sure the stablehands could use the help." A few innocent sips from his mug, "You'd think it would get cooler at night.."

In the distance, the drums announce the arrival of Apprentice Harper Belanna.

"They always need a good mucking, those stables," Jerla agrees. "Maybe Pangene here can help you out." It always goes faster with two, doesn't it? But it's so toasty out. Better to just sit in the cavern and watch the mud fall from Jerla's shoes. *thunk* 'Nother chunk. "Do join us, Pangene," she says to Klari. Plenty of room.

Though Klari never peeped a word about chores so why should Kr'lin note to Klari about Candidate's chores? Klari glances over to Hanneke with a shrug, "Peeling tubers isn't /that/ bad." Klari doesn't even respond to Jerlana, considering she never said her name while addressing her. "Especially after being stuck on laundry duty again." Then a shot glance over to Kr'lin, "This turn I won't put so much starch in your clothes, not all of the time anyway." But Klari's laughter signifies that as a joke. You know... funny haha?

Horror, disgust, revulsion: all these and more play upon Hanneke's features, as she shakes her head rapidly. "No! I mean, er, there's no need! I--" she trails off, perhaps wisely, attempting to look cheerful, which would be about normal.

Kr'lin gives Klari a thumbs up sign, he does appreciate a lightly starched set of clothing.. Nothing worse than having your inner thighs chafe due to extra starch, "Now, Grendella, you really shouldn't complain so. Especially with 'riders present. You never know.. We /might/ drop a subtle hint to the right people and viola, you'll find yourself with all the undesirable chores." Although, are there really any desirable chores?

Jerlana could think of one or two, usually involving someones pants. But instead she tips a bit farther back in her chair, re-twines her fingers and resumes the twiddle. "And when the name 'Grendella' is dropped, they'll know just who to come and drag off for the most /horrible/ of chores."

Hanneke gives a petulant wrinkle of her nose. "Hanneke," she repeats, smile returning. She pauses, peering at Jerlana. "Er, yes!" And if she's realised what that could mean for her, namely nothing, and no doubt it hasn't, she doesn't show it. "But they don't like me in the kitchens! I drop plates, and stuff."

Klari's always tried to avoid saying much about chores. But considering this is the second time to be a Candidate, she's learned a few ropes here and there. Like the fact that it's not such a great idea to take blame for something you didn't do. Klari shows Hanneke her right hand, "I nearly cut my thumb right off last time I helped in the kitchen so they really don't want me back in there."

Kr'lin waves a dismissive hand towards the pair of candidates, "Pish, posh. They can use all the help they can get. Matter of fact, they find it rather amusing when the candidates slice themselves open. Breaks the monotony, so to speak." Not to mention the skin, "So, really, complain all you want, Hanneke," Used, just so she know he knows what her name is, "We'll have to arrainge for you to get the 'fun' chores." And just because he can, "Oh, have you heard that you have to shave your head when you Impress? Cuts down on the chances of lice and other head critters that scurry about the Weyrling barracks." He's bored, it's hot, he needs to make some else as miserable as he is.

"Bald," adds Jerlana descriptively. Shiny shaved bald heads, all aglow in a row. "As for the sliced candidates, it's really better if they keep those for company -- guests always appreciate a well sliced candidate if offered," she mentions to Kr'lin. Jerlana's often bored. That's what watchriders /are/.

Klari shakes her head at Kr'lin, "Oh we do not have to shave our heads." At least she says this at first but decides to go along with it, "Well... I guess you're right. I mean... When I saw Rissa and Mesopha after they impressed... They didn't have any hair." Klari gets a really depressed sound in her voice, twirling her golden locks of hair. "But really though... They told me to stay out of the kitchens for a while."

Hasn't the torture been enough already? Chores, knife cuts of all sizes, and general mayhem are entirely unimportant against that all-important statement--"Hair?" Hanneke goes visibly pale, and clutches her hands against her seat. Then, they move towards her hair, holding tightly to the elaborate coife that she prizes so much--"Lice?"

Chandelle is sitting at a table yawhing after haveing just woke up looking around she seeis everyone and says "Hello" to them all getting up and sleeply walking over to get herself some Kalh and drink/

Kr'lin nods, very slowly, just to make sure Hanneke notices, "Yeah. Lice." His index finger is extended and he wriggles it up and down like a worm, "Nothing worse than seeing a little white piece of rice squirming through someones hair." And then in comes a new person, "Isn't that right, Sissi."

Jerlana shudders at the thought.

"You won't have any lice though, considering you won't have any hair if you impress." Klari can have a little fun with the riders too, nothing wrong with going along. Considering she could've just ruined it completely for them. "Anyway... I'm gonna go find a pile of tubers and curl up behind... I mean peel 'em." Klari laughs slightly and gets up to go start peeling again, or curl up behind the pile for some sleep, if not under 'em!

Sissi is straight into complain mode, "What have you guys done to the weather, I mean, it's unbearable?" Kr'lin she hardly even looks at before she answers, "I don't know, I haven't seen your hair lately."

Chandelle looks up at the mention of Lice then runs a hand through her long blond hair. "What is this about Lice?" she asks not wanting any of the buggers in her hair she just got it long again.

Hanneke smoothes her hands along her hair, nodding very slowly as she attempts to control her tear ducts: they're threatening action, glistening against her eyelashes. "Oh, bye--" she notes after Klari, smile well and truly gone.

Dalas comes into the cavern,"Lice?" Is the question but he isn't sure what the answer is,or is it the other way around,"Does someone have lice? Or is suspected that someone has it?" Scratching his own head kind of a empathic thing when talking about crawlies he gets the itchies regardless of whether they infect him or not.

Dalas comes into the cavern,"Lice?" Is the question but he isn't sure what the answer is,or is it the other way around,"Does someone have lice? Or is suspected that someone has it?" Scratching his own head kind of a empathic thing when talking about crawlies he gets the itchies regardless of whether they infect him or not.*repose*

Kr'lin waves to Klari, "Happy slicing.. I mean, peeling." Sissi gets a smirk, "Better than freezing your tush off at Fort." Then a bit of clarification, "No, not my hair." He points at Hanneke, "Grendella's."

Jerlana nods, corroborating Kr'lin's identification of Hanneke as someone called Grendella. "Not mine either. Just candidates that impress, like Grendella here."

Grendella--sorry, *Hanneke*, blinks back tears, the poor thing, and holds her head up straight. "I don't want to Impress, if they'll cut all my hair off!" Dalas is given a woeful glance.

Sissi gives everyone in the cavern so far a wide berth. "If you've all got lice, I'm going straight back home." Now that's desperation. "And it's not freezing at Fort," Kr'lin is told. "You should visit more often, then you'd know, we have those season-sort-of-thingies." She grins at Grendella (or is that Hanneke?) - whilst still edging further away. "Oh, don't worry. Usually they let you cut it yourself."

Chandelle smiles "I don't have any lice so don't look at me " she says haveing finaly wokeup and sipping her Kalh.

Dalas says,"Grendella? Lice? Whats going on Hanneke," when he hears this he looks towards the riders,"You told her they would cut her hair off if she impressed?"Looking at them with an incredulous look on his face. "Why just to see how she would react to it? I mean I know of a few female riders that haven't cut their hair, trimmed it a little but nothing drastic." He says looking over at Hanneke.

Kr'lin hmphs and shakes his head at Dalas, "Who would you believe, Grindella. A couple of riders who actually went through weyrlinghood, or a healer? Hmm?" You know.. Riders have a solemn oath never to lie. *coughcough* And with that, he quickly stands, gives Sissi a quick wave, then vanishes into the bowl.

Kr'lin walks out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.

Jerlana blinks. "Oath?" Do we have things like that?

Hanneke manages to hold back a sob, her ready flowing emotion cut off as best she can; tears will make her face go red and nasty, after all. Sissi is given a long glance, as she bites upon her lip. "I don't want to do that, either." She doesn't want to do a lot of things--"I don't know, Dalas, but it's cruel, and no one told me that, or I would've said no!" She peers after Kr'lin, frowning.

Chandelle smiles and looks at all the riders the to Hanneke "Hay whould you like to get out of all this Hanneke?" she asks meaning do you want to do some cleaning and smiles at the girl.

Jerlana's deep brown eyes fix on Hanneke. "You know, /Hanneke/, that hair grows back. A dragon is worth a bit of a trim, don't you think?" Ooo, a rare moment of lucidity from Jerlana. Alert the media.

Hanneke snugs T'paz! T'paz feels the snuggle, and grins warmly. He returns it, wrapping long arms around you, and revelling in the warmth of the moment.

Dalas says,"You will only have to shorten it enough for your riding leathers if I'm not mistaken Hanneke, but if you don't want to impress a dragon I would suggest you let someone know, I mean when your on the sands and the dragon is comming right for you its a bit late to change your mind you know?"

To hair, or not to hair, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the--In Hanneke's mind, not much seems to be working, anyway. She nods blindly towards Jerlana, although she straightens slightly at the use of her real name; next thing you know, she'll stop responding to it altogether. "Er. Maybe." She peers at Chandelle, pausing. "Um--" which is luckily interrupted by Dalas, to whom she nods, once again, blankly. "Yes."

Sissi flops into a seat and regards Hanneke, critically. "I tried not cut mine, either, but it got all covered in oil and dragon slobber and everything, until I got handed a knife and told to do the decent thing." She grins, "Best thing I ever did." Sissi's an achiever.

Jerlana looks critically at Hanneke's coif. "Mmm," she murmurs, "covered in oil and unidentified goo ... can't say it'd improve it any." Making the snippy motion with two fingers she suggests, "Best hack it off Grendella. Dragon snot isn't anyone's best color."

Dalas considers what the riders are saying and can only nod in agreement to a few statements,"Well it wouldn't do to have goo in your hair, but I wouldn't hack and slash it off just yet, I mean you don't know how the egg is going to crack Hanneke, and whats with all this Grendella stuff?" Dalas asks once again.

Hanneke considers this, and considers this for a long time. "I don't know," she explains, to Dalas, with a tentative smile. "And--my poor hair!" She jumps up from her seat, and makes a dash for the lower caverns. Well, someone is hair obsessed.

You head into the Living Quarters.