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.

14-08-01: Nasty
Hanneke: Delicate curls of tawny golden brown frame her face in somewhat lopsided formations, like a crown of rich hue:...

Hanneke:
Delicate curls of tawny golden brown frame her face in somewhat lopsided formations, like a crown of rich hue: releasing sturdy, but infinately fine face to its creamy pale delineation and refined features. Alabaster contrasts doe-like eyes of a watery blue, plentiful depths vacant in singular delight, whilst defined nose adds an elegance manifest within gentle lips and lengthy neck. Just below average in height, figure maintains an overly rounded, soft formation: womanly curves obvious, amid plump form, beneath her sturdy garb.

Worn upon her shoulder is the black and orange knot of an Ista Weyr weyrling, the single strand of green marking her lifemate as being of that colour.

Jet-black leather shrouds rounded form: garbs skin-tight form nonetheless revealing and concealing curvacious figure, with cropped top slinking to a perfect fit, and pants holding tightest grasp to short legs to her ankles. Equally black, coal shaded boots tower high up towards her knees, visible only through the heaviness of pants' lower legs, gaining her an additional height of a full half a handspan thanks to clunky heels. Cloaking tawny hair, a black kerchief nestles upon gracious head, gathering sultry image to its highest point.

The Aten has lost its gleam: the night holds sovereignty, the world is dark, and serpents have a fearsome bite.

Caeruleth:
Shadows wreak havoc upon this diminutive mistress of the night, dark forest greens twining with lighter, more verdant shades along her long sinuous neck, while crisscrossing malachite patterns dapple her smoothed-down neckridges. A narrow, angular frame is swathed in moonlight, her dancer's belly rounding out and paling to a gaudy shade of lime - a snaky whiplash tail coated in a deep moss green, is flecked with specks of green-blue, adding more color to the monochrome appearance. Lanky limbs offset bodily proportions, sharp talons etched from black marble. Vaguely oversized wings could easily been deemed 'svelte' in their velvety darkness.

Never gleaming, never gold: night gains control to banish the light, and serpents have a fearsome bite.

You spiral down to the ground.

Caeruleth springs downwards -- hide aglow, gleaming as if burnished leather, dark, and yet bright -- her head held high with reptuous repose; she's not afraid of those who sit here, these lesser beings. Hanneke -- is that Hanneke? It doesn't look like Hanneke, in a way -- leans forward, scowling, unstrapping herself with a grace that is not her own.

Saldia is looking throughly cheery and bright and bouncy as she slips off her green's back and lands on the ground and she grins over at her clutchsis "Hey Hanneke, Caeruleth, how is your new weyr?" Her beam is bright and her words bubbly "Mine is lovely, well the cot is a little old and looks like it might break if I all but sneeze but it is perfect and lovely, well I need to decorate it but it is just perfect." She pauses for breath and then continues "And the ledge has just the best view of this side of the bowl and it is easily able to get to, how about yours?" She doesn't notice the scowl yet, caught up in being bright and bubbly.

Hanneke's scowl grows steadily darker, as she slinks down from Caeruleth's back, lurking by the dark-tinted green as she notes only, "You babble like an imbecile." Ooh, Hanneke gained a vocabulary! "Cease, foolish weyrling." Charmed, I'm sure.

Caeruleth sends dark ripples of forest green through your mind, releasing you as you tumble, somewhat precipitaciously, down from her neckridges, eventually reaching the ground in an acervated heap.

Hanneke hugs Klari! Klari gently squeezes you, running a hand lightly through your hair, gazing deep into your eyes before giving you the loudest zerbert you've ever recieved on the cheek then dashes away giggling with your pride!

Saldia gasps at Hanneke "Your, you're a weyrling to Hanneke" she bumbles out "and I am allowed to be excited if I want to be and you don't have to tell me off like that, you don't have any higher rank than I." Seems that she is still going to babble if she wants and she looks quite affronted at Hanneke's words "I do not babble like an imbecile I will have you know, I was top in my class at Healer hall" well maybe not top but no one here really has to know the truth. Asryth stirs lightly and tosses a look in the other green's direction but she really isn't interested and she settles down again.

Caeruleth hisses at Asryth: how dare the other green even *look* at her might and glory. Tail tipping upon the ground, she gathers repose, holding form tight as she looms--as best she can--about the bowl. Hanneke flicks her hand back and forth, snorting as she smoothes down her leather outfiture. "Of course," sarcasm reigns, "I couldn't expect anything more than *that*."

Crinkles crease forehead as Saldia tries to work out what is happening and she glances between green dragon and green rider and eyes finally take in outfit that Hanneke is wearing and eyes widen and crinkles appear at mouth as Saldia desperately tries to withhold a laugh and then she giggles as she looks at Hanneke from top to toe. She has her old weyrling uniform on, her leathers back in her weyr drying from the rain that the weyr has been experiencing. She shakes her head and her mouth purses as she tries to stop giggling and form words "Oh Hanneke, what an outfit." she manages to gasp out.

Bad response. Very bad response. Thunderclouds gather about Hanneke's face, her hands moving to her hips, indignant fury raging about her. "How dare you be so rude? Idiotic wherry-brained fool." Caeruleth hisses, towards Asryth, towards Saldia, wrapping her darkness like a cloak about them both. Black, by the by, does not suit the weyrling, with her creamy complection.

Saldia shrinks back against her own green, her giggle caught in her throat by Hanneke's reaction "I wasn't being rude, what did I say that was rude, i just said what an outift, I was just surprised, I mean many people could say what an outfit and be complimentary I mean it certainly is a different outfit I mean I haven't seen anything like it before and well it definetly, well it definetly stands out on you, I mean you certainly look different Hanneke, it definetly makes an impression on people." She giggles again, forgetting the green's hiss, and is amused by Hanneke's outfit and her reaction.

"Enough!" This babbling -- not that a normal Hanneke could talk -- is infuriating this particular greenrider, whose patience, or lack thereof, is lost entirely. "How dare you speak to me in that way? I will not tolerate this from an incompetent, limp-tailed, wherry-headed, runner-bodied prat!" Someone has been taking too much of a clue from Caeruleth; limp-tailed?

>> I sense that Asryth snaps back >>Who do you think you are hissing at my rider, she only stated a truth, your rider does not look fetching in that outfit, could you not have advised her better<< her tone as always is blunt, though there is almost a tone of hysterical laughter, reflection of her rider or maybe her own opinion. <<

>> I bespoke Asryth with: I sense that Caeruleth shrouds darkness about her--words make no impression, as she, patterned in mellifluous coal and luxurious leather-strained aubergine hisses out, lashing, hurting. Heady scents overpower with musky insense, conveying her meaning: who does she think *she* is, deigning to speak with Caeruleth, the great and glorious? <<

Saldia may be babbling and she might be giggling but she does not like being called an imbecile or a prat and hands go on hips and she glares at Hanneke "Who are you calling limp-tailed and wherry-headed? What gives you the right to call me that, who do you think you are? You have no great rank than I Hanneke? We are weyrlings together and just because you were silly enough to choose and wear an outfit which does not suit you does not mean that you should take it out on me. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, maybe you should just be quiet and not say anything. I was being nice and friendly and all you have done is pick pick pick, its not very nice if you want to keep friends and could you tell your green to stop hissing at me and looming over me and think she is better than my Asryth." Words are snapped out, the original bouncieness and gaiety disapated for the moment.

Hanneke's lips twitch with what might be concealed laughter, her mirth conveyed through subtle movements, although her eyes narrow, her face contorting into a hateful mask of distaste. "Oh, that *is* a classic," comments she, sarcasm reigning supreme through her tone. "*You*, lecturing *me*?" Her head shakes, her laughter now coming out--dark, scintillating, altogether unlike her usual giggle. "How absolutely divine!" Caeruleth hisses, tail twitching, eyes whirling--hide glowing.

>> I sense that Asryth's mind voice shimmers with the brittality of winter, the pales and the whites and the black and dryness of death and the smell is of deep frankinscene and other earthy colours as she reacts dryly to the images she receives from the other green >>Well don't talk to me, stuck up wherry!<< <<

>> I bespoke Asryth with: I sense that Caeruleth was talking? Was she? Oh dear, she didn't realise it. What a mistake: to talk to *Asryth*, to lower herself in that way. Seething with cloves and narcissus, her mindtouch trails darker, deeper, forbidden fruit--luscious, sensuous. Evil. <<

Saldia is getting furious now, her face contorted with anger that her bright happy day has been ruined "What do you mean classic. Why is it so wrong that I should tell you off, it's not as if you are perfect and I never said that I was but at least I know common sense and how to be nice to people, you seem to have got out of the wrong side of bed today and you are taking it out, what did they put your pen over the midden pits or something?" She shakes her head and turns "Asryth I do not think I like the smell here, let's go find some more condusive and better company." Head is flicked, pity no long hair to flick with it but oh well, she tries. Hands reach for straps and she begins to climb "Come see me when you are in a better mood Hanneke."

"Yes," taunts Hanneke, waving a hand, "Run away, poor dear. I know it must be hard, when faced with superior intellect." A nasty smile rests upon her face, as she rises upon her heels, head tilted to the side with some amusement. "Poor Saldia. Poor Asryth. Imagine, chosing someone so very inferior."

>> I sense that Asryth's voice is even dryer now, the cold frigidity of snow burying life >>Well you know only stuck up people have no friends so do not blame me if no one wants to be around you if this is how you treat people, I am only telling you this for your own benefit, I mean I want to help you, You do want people to like you don't you?<< This would sound so much better if the voice was not so dry and brittle and then red flames through and the voice screeches almost hysterical >>she is sorry for ME, it is I who should be sorry for you, you seem to have found your perfect match, you are well suited for each other, since you will only have each other<< <<

>> I bespoke Asryth with: I sense that Caeruleth snorts, waves of darkness flowing like a river to the sea, drapped in moonless night, rippling through her touch. << Prattle as you like, little one. I care not. >> <<

Saldia pauses and then jumps back down and strides across to Hanneke, putting her face up close to the other riders "Pity me will you, I will show you how to pity me, you do not have higher intellect, it does not take higher intellect to pull someone down and insult them, it does not take higher intellect to belittle people and insult them, in fact I would call that the personality of someone who does not understand much and wants to bring people down to their own level." She shakes her head "You and Caeruleth are well suited Hanneke and I do not believe I want to ever talk to you again." She twirls and with a quick run and jump she scrambles up straps and is well seated "I do not want to talk to you if you think high intellect is exchanging insults, get a life Hanneke and get a new outfit."

Saldia swings up to Asryth's neck, settling between two neckridges, and smiles down to her lifemate.

Hanneke tilts her head, retorting calmly, "Good. I hardly think it good for me to consort with inferiors. Good day, wherry head."

From Asryth's neck, Saldia ignores the last comment as she feels it is beneath her though maybe it trails on the wind her muttered comment "She calls me wherry head? I will show her wherry head!" She doesn't deign to show she has noticed though, her face fixed as she looks ahead.

Asryth bunches her muscles and leaps into the air.

Above the Eastern Bowl, Asryth launches upward from the bowl's floor, below.