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.

15-08-01: Scary
Zureile enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside. Hanneke's heels make clicking sound upon the floor as she stalks, looming with...

Zureile enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Hanneke's heels make clicking sound upon the floor as she stalks, looming with less than superior hight, across the room, her head tossed back with disgust, lip so far as curled. She makes no move to greet -- not that Zureile would ever deserve her greeting, even if those others amid the caverns might -- as she passes along, tossing a cup onto the bench, filling it without spilling a drop. This transformation is complete, indeed.

Zureile enters the weyr, head turned sideways as she brushes an imaginary speck of dust off of her leathers. Yup. She likes these leathers, and they're gonna stay immaculate. Personal grooming completed, she turns her attention back to the occupants in the living cavern. All forward motion is arrested as she stares at Hanneke, foot poised in front of her for the step that was never completed. Her head swivels as she follows Hanneke's journey across the cavern, her jaw dropped slightly in shock. She, on the other hand, has no qualms about greeting. "Uh, hello there, Hanneke." She finally lowers her foot, shifting her weight to a more comfortable position. Hmmm.. say something about it or ignore it? Ignore it? Naww..... "You're looking rather... dark today. Is it a special occasion?"

Hanneke turns her head, the ends of the kerchief fluttering about her neck as she movement is completed in graceful iciness. A single eyebrow raises, poised above her blue eye. "How dare you speak to me like that," comes her comment, not blurted--rather spun, voice darkened, held with supreme confidence as she holds her pose. "How dare you speak to me at all, you worthless--" she trails off; not thinking better, rather not bothered to consort so with this particular specimen of lowlife scum. Charmed, I'm sure.

Zureile looks utterly startled. Here she was, trying to innocently make conversation with her arch nemesis... and she receives /that/. "Speak to you like what? I was just asking why your clothes are so dark, and you turn around and start insulting me like that!" She throws up her hands in a defensive posture. "Look, there's absolutely no reason for you to be rude to me like that... I've no desire to go hobbling around with you shackled at my side for another week, okay?"

Hanneke snorts regally, clomping--almost tripping--across the room with her nose in the air. Cooly, but with a sarcastic note to it, the weyrling comments, "Small minds can hardly be expected to understand, I suppose." She sniffs, holding posture straight as eyes glare darkly at the other weyrling. "Will you not cease your prattle? Cease, this instant!"

L'lia enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Zureile's starting to get a little irritated, but she manages to hold onto her temper. Especially once she sees L'lia enter. "Look, Hanneke, I'm not prattling. I'm talking. You know, a conversation? Where one person says something, and then the other person responds? Hopefully with something other than an insult?" She salutes the brownrider, making her way over to the counter to get a mug of juice. Thirsty, or loading up? Obviously thirsty, because Zureile drains it quickly and leaves the mug on the counter. "And I do not have a small mind. I was just curious why you're wearing that outfit. It's just so different from what you normally wear." She eyes the form in front of her, paying special attention to the heels. "And those have got to be uncomfortable to walk around in, much less mount a dragon in, so I figured there was something going on."

"So you deign to talk to *me*, just now, because you want to insult me regarding my outfiture?" Hanneke has obviously increased her vocabulary during this transformation, too, and, now clomping regally towards a table, hoists herself on top, looking properly sultry--inadvertantly, of course. "That *is* rich." Sarcasm suits her not. L'lia isn't noticed by the greenrider, as she settles herself, watching over the caverns with imperious presence.

L'lia archs an eyebrow as she comes into the cavern, and she purses her lips slightly. She tilts her head, and murmurs, "Hanneke.. what a lovely.. outfit." She tilts her head, looking at her, and then back at the goldrider, a hint of question in her eyes.

Kyla enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Zureile arches one eyebrow, looking at the new version of Hanneke with an expression that is a mixture of shock and disdain. "Look, yes I /deign/ to talk to you. I wasn't aware that I had to grovel in order to get permission to speak. Hanneke, what's wrong with you? We had our differences before, but you were never like this?" She gestures at the other weyrling's position on the table. "I mean, draping yourself in black and sitting all... well, sexy on a table?" She tilts her head, to the other side, arching the other eyebrow. "Hanneke, what would your mother say?"

Kyla heads into the caverns with purpose, green eyes searching for someone particular. They flicker here, pause there. "Nice outfit Hank. Hey Lil.." And finally. "Zur. YOu. Come on."

Caeruleth> Xornath warbles softly towards Caeruleth, fanning his wings lightly at the dark-toned green dragon. His attention focuses on her for a moment.. and then he sidles slightly towards her.

Hanneke again snorts, this time in L'lia's direction, her disdain visible throughout her visage and very presence. "Mock me not," she commands, this deity of her own, crossing one leather-covered leg over the other. "Be silent!" she commanded, head rapidly turning towards Zureile. How dare she? "Your prattle is of no consequence. I will not hear such stupidity." Blue eyes follow Kyla, ignoring the comment. Another taunter.

L'lia winces. ANd she takes a step towards the goldrider instinctively, and then pauses as Kyla comes in. SHe murmurs, "Hi Kyla... I'll talk to you later, I think.." She changes directions, heading towards the greenrider.

Caeruleth> Caeruleth looms within her position, flicking tail the only movement from her darkly gleaming form. Xornath's movement causes a hiss--an absolute image of distaste--all three sets of lids flickering open, regarding the brown with disdain. Shoo?

Hup-to. Ab-ooout face. Salute! Up goes the hand in a well-practiced salute, Zureile jumping slightly at the sound of Kyla's voice. "Uh, sure. Coming." She trots after Kyla. What a good little weyrling.

Kyla nods to L'lia while ignoring Hanneke. Apparently that's the safest way, well that and run.. "Let's go get you settled in your weyr." This to Zur, before she heads out.

Kyla walks out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.

Caeruleth> Xornath warbles at the the looming green, as he quietly surveys her. His head tilts, to get a better look at the faintly glowing green, and his wings twitch a little hopefully.

Hanneke waggles three graceful fingers after the retreating backs of Zureile and Kyla--"Yes, do run away! We all know that you're inferior."

L'lia asks, lightly, "Are you thirsty, Hanneke?" She hesitates, waiting for the greenrider's response. "How long have you... been inclined towards this outfit...?"

>> I bespoke Xornath with: Caeruleth bespoke me with >> ;'s mind is alive with churning colour and smell: overpowering darkness seething through every thought, a nocturnal black that seeps, drains, darkens ever more. Flickering with dark reds and greens, narcissus wafts and dances, snarling and biting with erotic sensuousness. She'll have none of that. <<

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

"No," responds Hanneke, nose jutting into the air. "I am not." Lashing out with dark sarcasm, she uncrosses her legs, then crosses them the other way, arms folding in front of her--and only heightening the effect of her tight shirt. "Don't question me, insolent brownrider! I'll have none."

>> I sense that Xornath wafts you with earthen soil, freshly tilled mind-thoughts caress your churning darkness, appreciatively. <<

Kr'lin meanders his way into the living cavern, been quite awhile since he's been in here other than to grab a plate of food and quickly flee. *sigh* Hasn't changed a bit.. Oh well.. Well, except for the snippity Weyrling. Might as well interject himself here, "Hanneke.. You really do need to remember that you are still a Weyrling." Hasn't been tapped and all that. He heads over to the drink bar and starts to rummage through for something to drink. Hmm.. Juice..no.. Klah.. No.. Alcoholic? Nope. Oh well.. Might as well go for a mixture of everything.

L'lia archs an eyebrow, and murmurs, "Easy now." A pause, "YOu realize, of course, Hanneke, that your lifemate's proddy, don't you?" She takes another step towards the weyrling, and she glances towards Kr'lin.

Hanneke, black leather and all, positively scowls towards Kr'lin. "Still that tongue of yours, and maybe there might be brain enough for thought," she snaps, head going into the air. Weyrling, her? "You, too," she informs L'lia, as yet ignoring the thought of proddiness; the word doesn't really mean much, at this point.

>> I bespoke Xornath with: I sense that Caeruleth lashes out with heady scent, tumultuous touch raging like a black-green inferno. <<

>> I sense that Xornath gently accepts the raging inferno, and then offers, with inpenatrable calm, underlined only by the barest hint of passion, >>You are looking lovely tonight.<< <<

>> I bespoke Xornath with: I sense that Caeruleth is nothing if not direct: << And you look like runner dung left to decompose for three turns, but I don't have to mention it. >> So she lashes, frizzling touch mellowed little by alto's burr-held touch. <<

Kr'lin hmms and starts to sip at his concoction.. Ewww. Tastes like complete and utter crap, but oh well.. He's already poured it. It would be a shame to waste perfectly good alcohol. He'll just have to remember not to juice and klah together. "You know.. Hanneke. I can still punish you for not remembering your position." So she's proddy. "Oh, nice outfit." He's meandering.

L'lia laughs under her breath lightly, and she glances between Hanneke and Kr'lin, her eyes dancing a little. She murmurs, "I'm afraid, greenrider, that you will have to learn to dealw ith the proddiness without letting it take control of you." She was a weyrlingmaster once.

"There's no need to be rude," snaps the weyrling, forgetting her place thanks to the glowing thing outside--don't blame the weyrling! She peers at L'lia, scowling--she'd spit, but she's not quite that vulgar--"Be still, brownrider. I have no desire to hear your mindless words."

Zureile enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Kr'lin strolls over to Hanneke and pulls up a chair near her. He doesn't want to get too close, it could be dangerous for him. But still, he does have to make a few comments here and there, "Hanneke. Really, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." And, because he can, he brings up Hanneke's mother, "What would your mother think?"

L'lia shakes her head, looking at the greenrider. Before she can say anything further, she offers gently, "Hanneke. No one is picking on you. But you might consider talking to another greenrider, because you /are/ proddy." SHe glances around, and a smile crosses her face as the weyrlingmasters make an appearance.

Kyla walks in ayup. Ah the crowds all here woohoo. Warily she skirts Hanneke and stops next to L'lia. Quietly she whispers in the brownrider's ear. "Just tell me I'm not /that/ bad." The other greenrider gets a simpering sweet smile.

Hanneke has heels, and she's not afraid to use them? "If you can't speak without insulting me," she snarls at Kr'lin -- really, it's hard to imagine Zureile doing this -- "Then don't. My mother has *nothing* to do with me." Just as a new development, see. She ignores L'lia; what is there to say?

Now, when Zureile left she was in a good mood. Well, maybe not good, but she wasn't visibly seething like she is now. Stomp, stomp, stomp. All the way over to the counter where she grabs a mug of juice, then stomp, stomp, stomp over to a table. Shere she slams herself down into a suit, and begins to stare unseeingly at the far wall. What or who is to blame? Well, if she was in a good mood when she left, and was going to do something fun... and the only other influence was a petite weyrlingmaster....

L'lia murmurs gently to Kyla, 'You aren't this bad." Of course, that's subjective. She tilts her head, looking at Hanneke with a helpless smile.

Kr'lin takes another sip from his mug and winces again. This drink is absolutely horrid. If it doesn't start getting better soon, he'll have to start drinking it. Perish the thought. "Hanneke, really. How are you supposed to complete training as the best weyrling if you keep getting all snippity at the Weyrlingmasters?" The pair of arriving females get a look over. That's always a good thing. Two peeved off weyrlings and Kyla..

Hanneke's eyes fall towards her boots, as if contemplating them, and, no doubt, their ability to cause pain on unsuspecting, nonsesespeaking, brainless, wherry-headed, ugly, fat weyrlingmasters. "There is no competition," she seethes, high upon her horse, riding in the air above these insignificant, foolish people. Zureile's sulk is regarded with some amusement, her lips going so far as to split, contining dark laughter. How quaint.

Kyla settles into a chair to watch the show. At least no one is charging admission. A sudden thought enters her mind, and is spoken to L'lia. "Ah but /you/ are this bad, aren't you?" Elbows rest on her knees as she leans forward and watches the dynamics.

Zureile's done with being quiet. She tried, honest she did. Whirling around, she points an accusatory finger at Kyla. "You did do it on purpose, I know you did." The mug of juice tips over behind her, the cool liquid pooling unnoticed on the table. "How dare you ruin my weyr like that? How /dare/ you? I heard tunnelsnakes in there, too. You put them there, didn't you? And the dirt... I can't even /find/ my weyr." She fades off into an angry, waiting silence. Well? Fess up!

Kr'lin sees if he can point Hanneke in a different direction, "I don't know. I'm thinking Zureile provided quite a bit of competition. Matter of fact. I had to punish her less than I had to punish you. So, if you ask me. She's the better of you two." A few more sips from his drink. *wincewince* It just isn't getting any better. Absolutely horrid. Tastes like someone stirred it with L'zy's boots.. And those things just stank.

"Eventually... it'll get better, Hanneke." L'lia should give up. She reachs over to squeeze Kyla's shoulder lightly with her hand, and she says half under her breath, "I'm not anywhere near as bad, lass.." ANd the circle continues. Her attention focuses on the goldrider, and she murmurs to Kyla, "Shards, tell me she's not proddy too."

Ah the fireworks are getting interesting, and Kyla throws a few of her own into the fray. "Well Kr'lin, the only way to make sure that Zur's /that/ special is to get Hank in your furs as well." Isn't that a lovely picture. Absently she shakes her head in response to L'lia before raising her voice for Zureile's sake. "Ah thank you so much for giving me the strength to pull down walls and wrangle tunnelsnakes. But.." and here her pause is punctuated by a smile, "even if I /could/, I wouldn't waste my time and effort on you."

Hanneke launches herself from the edge of the table, the effect spoilt by her inability to land flat on her high heels--that's got to have hurt. Recovery is quick, as she snarls -- there really is no other word for it -- towards her nemesis, Kr'lin forgoten: "*You're* the worst weyrling. The bad one. *I'm* the best; we all know that." Hanneke, in Kr'lin's furs? Talk about 'ew'.

Kr'lin had not quite expected to see flying weyrlings when he pointed Hanneke at Zureile. Oh well, might as well give them a few rounds, see who wins. "Careful there. Don't want to hurt yourself." A quick belt and he drains the remainder of his drink. A shudder wracking his body as he does so. "That has to be the worse drink I have ever had." And, because he can, he does fire something back at Kyla, "I don't know. I'm thinking D'nic has a leg up on everyone.. If only because he's been sharing your furs."

Zureile's jaw drops at Kyla's little inference. "How /dare/ you?" She interrupts, before Kyla has even finished speaking. She's furious, there's no doubt about that. Very furious. But she doesn't really have a chance to act on it, because she's suddenly confronted by Hanneke. And she's in no mood to be accomodating... not that she ever really is. Her fury has a sudden new direction, and she hisses back, "Don't be ridiculous, Hanneke. We all know you're not the best weyrling--- you'd actually have to be able to be successful at something to be considered good, let alone the best." She jabs a finger into the other weyrling's shoulder, pushing her slightly. "So get out of my face."

War errupting in the living caverns, L'lia picks her way towards the weyrlings. Her voice soft, but pitched to carry -- as only a Harper-trained can do -- "That. Is. Enough." She grabs for each of them by the wrists, and she says under her breath, "Zureile, she's proddy. Don't provoke her. You'll get your turn to be proddy." SHe turns her attention towards Hanneke, and hesitates.

Kr'lin awws as L'lia steps in, "But it was just getting interesting." It wasn't even in the formative stages. Well, maybe the formative stages, but the foundations hadn't even dried yet. "Let 'em go at it, L'lia. They need to work out their problems." So one of them is proddy. Just means more fireworks.

Hanneke might spit--but that'd be even worse. "You," she whispers, staring at Zureile. "How dare you!" And with that, sticking her nose into the air, the weyrling looms her way from the caverns. They're just not worth it.

You walk out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.

[-IstaLC-] Kyla watches L'lia do her job and honestly doesn't seem to care. She's personally had all she can take of this bickering pair. With a growl of her own she stands up and approaches the small group. "Oh and Kr'lin? I had to find someone to do the job right." Now back to this mess. "Hanneke. If you can not control yourself, leave. And Zureile. Shut up. We seem to have had this discussion before. You can not go around abusing other riders because you feel like it. We all know Caeruleth is glowing, so cut her some slack, or leave." Grin is back, "You have a weyr now.

[-IstaLC-] Zureile looks around in astonishment. Since when did /she/ become the scapegoat? "Hanneke's the one that's been insulting me all evening, she hops across the table to accost me, I defend myself, and /I'm/ the one who's abusing?" Her gaze narrows on Kyla. "And yes, I've got a weyr. Not that I can set one foot into it, but it's a weyr. Remind me to send you my thanks when I'm in a better mood. Do you mind telling me how I'm supposed to use this weyr you've so graciously given me? Or do I spend my time curled up on the ledge outside?"

[-IstaLC-] Kr'lin watches Hanneke depart the cavern. Well, shardit. All the fun gone. Although, Kyla is still here and she's being all uppity, "Oh? From all the noises you were making, I could have sworn you were enjoying it." And, before she can bring up the dreaded, 'I was faking it!', "And don't even try to say you weren't." He slowly gets to his feet and starts to head back to the drink table. "Could always have your dragon help you move some of the stones out Zureile. She does have quite a bit of strength in those forearms."

[-IstaLC-] L'lia looks at Kr'lin, and murmurs, "Don't encourage them to fight." She sighs, and Zureile's wrist, with a gentle, "Its alright. Its hard to deal with proddy riders. Try to remember, when you get that way." She stares at Kr'lin, and then looks up at the ceiling, "Is the whole weyr insane?"

[-IstaLC-] "Never heard of dragon lust and you've lived this long in a weyr." Kyla sneers, "Don't flatter yourself Kr'lin. Never in my right mind..or even while I'm not will I share your furs." Zureile is ignored, cuz that's what Kyla does best. "If you'll excuse me?" she nods to L'lia, voice actually pleasant for the brownrider. And..guess what? She's gone.

[-IstaLC-] Zureile hates being ignored. She really does. Really, there's not much you can do when you're being ignored--- screaming out after the person only makes you seem like a ninny. She gives a grudging nod at Kr'lin, explaining to L'lia in a tight voice, "Kyla just showed me my weyr--- I can't even get into it. There's been some sort of rockslide, or something, and the thing is blocked with dirt and rocks... and it's crawling with tunnel snakes, too. I'm not proddy, I'm just angry." She'll tack that last part on in case L'lia couldn't tell her mood.

[-IstaLC-] Kr'lin watches Kyla head out the door and shrugs, "Well, she can do all the revisioning she wants, I got what I wanted out of it." A little bit of somethin' somethin'. And then, it's to the situation at hand, he gives L'lia a little finger waggle, "YOu need to stop motherhening them L'lia. They aren't going to work out their problems if something doesn't happen. We've tried tying them together, sending them to their separate corners.. Heck, maybe having a knock down, drag down fight might be the solution."

[-IstaLC-] "While one of them is proddy?" L'lia just looks startled, and she cuts off her voice, "I... they are your weyrlings, Kr'lin." That being said, she obviously thinks its the wrong approach. "I think.. I should go. Zureile.. I'll talk to you later." WIth that, L'lia gets up, leaving a half-drunk mug of klah on the table.