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.
30-05-02: From a far off place
Lydiere takes Llysereth away from the weyr for her fourth flight -- which Zymanth witnesses from afar.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth softly seeks your mind, his touch light as snow and the whisper as quiet as falling flakes. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth rocks upon a tempestuous ocean, her thoughts rippling with sounds and colours unheard of within her usual touch-- except, perhaps, during proddiness. She's far off, but powerful: << What? >> Sharp, harsh, and then immediately repentant. Oh, she /hates/ this.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth voice trembles slightly as his soft iced touch melts into thoughts. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth's voice quavers, a fragile note of fear and hurt beneath the tempestuous seas that rage through her mind and soul. << She /hurts/, and I don't like it, and I-- I don't want this! >> Anger, and then muffled hurt; if she were human, perhaps they would be tears of frustration.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth projects to Llysereth . o O ( the immage of a soft nuzzle, the pressure there in your mind as Zymanth tries to comfort, without seeming to get too close. (is that possible in the mind?!). The ice that melts into thought once again ripples with waves of councern, doubt, worrie. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth rolls amid the storm of her emotion, and no matter how hard she tries, the words fail her-- instead, images: the lavender and icy silver that is hers by signature, tossed about, straining for stability without success against forces that roll and heave against her will. She's lost-- losing the battle, drowning in the storm. Zymanth's presence is an obvious comfort, but Llysereth cannot win. << She... she /will/ get better. She must. She /must/. >>
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth holds his position. The strength of mind and sole put into being the anchor, a support. His soft touch trying to call out and ensnare the icy silver with his own whisps of blue and white. His call sounding distant and calling but ever present. Llysereth must be found! <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth is confused; she can hardly think straight-- indeed, she's disjointed, phasing in and out as she battles to remain in control of her own emotions. Even across this distance, the glow of her proddiness is evident within each fragile strand of her touch, like a moon lost beneath a billowing ocean. << She... >> She falters. << She has *G'wain*. But she hurts, and I can't help her! She blames me! >> Llysereth cannot understand the effects of her own proddiness; she cannot understand that it is her emotions that drive Lydiere's headaches.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth is gone! All contact severed as he seeks to concerntrate on his rider. His rider will know the answer, he always does..er..right?! Slowly the storm freezes as Zymanths iced touch once again flakes into words in Llysereths mind. He tries to not think of the proddy aspect, yet flashes of red and amber slip though. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth flails, as Zymanth's contact is severed, and then relaxes as it returns-- all her efforts, as much attention as she can spare amid the frustrating up and down sweep of her emotions, against her will. << I can't! >> Panic rages within her voice, frustration evident through every fibre of her self. << I want to help, I want to stop, and I can't! >> Is it any wonder that Llysereth hates proddiness?
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth keeps the contact constant, soft and as relaxed as he can with his own emotions enticed by such proddiness, raised by such worrie and shaken with such concern. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth is trying-- that much is painfully obvious in her single-minded, absolutely determined attempt to concentrate, to soothe the waves of raging, red-hued emotion that bear down upon her. << I'm trying, >> she notes-- cries, almost cries. << She's hurting, and I'm hurting her, but I'm trying, I am. She wants to go to sleep, and I want her to go to sleep, but she can't, and it hurts me. Why do I have to hurt her, Zymanth? >>
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth wraps his mind about the raging mind be touches. His trying to do this as he would wish in body if not in mind. His touch soft as if he could sooth and relax into sleep. His iced voice a soft whisper. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth understands this, and your soothing touch is comfort to her, though hardly enough to douse that fire that rages - ever rages - deep within her. << I know, I know. But I want it to /stop/. Take it away. I do not like this, Zymanth. I cannot like this. >>
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth sooths with the melting tone of his voice. Its swirling whiles and soft blues swurling as if to try and douce the rage. <> he offers softly, he would do it for her, rider or no! <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth admits, her voice quavering: << I do not know how to let you take it away, nor Ahreluth. I cannot force it-- it rages over me, but it is not /me/. It has control, and I am losing. >> She /knows/ it is linked to flight, but she unconsciously resists that; it is not yet time.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth conisiously flaps his wings, the vision of his head swaying with a wish to aid, but a knowing he cant, for a moment his own frustration crackles and dashes upon your mind. The turmoil taking a grip before the ice falls once more and his thoughs flicker into flakes which dash themsleves upon your thoughts. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth's voice is fragile, beneath layers of thoughts that she cannot quite grasp. << I am. I am-- I /am/ Llysereth, and I-- No! Go away! I will /not/ surrender. >> As if out of nowhere, suddenly and drastically, all those raging emotions bubble to the surface, angry red taking over as it fires all, and Llysereth, her own self lost to this, roars a challenge. Far off, wherever she is, the wild wherries flee her wrath, and she drops the connection, walling her mind off from Zymanth's as her thoughts turn to escape the need, the desire, the passion. If the intention was to return /before/ the flight, it's rather too late, now.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth bulges into the night. His wings flapping in a growing-frantic matter. His mind beating against the wall as if to try to find Llysereth under the wrath. Hindering him is his own growing emotion. He wants to be there, he knows Ahreluth is there and he is no good! (the mind of a jealous male - irashional) His mind still tries to climb the wall but his calling has turned pitiful, as if his softes touch could penetrate where his full might has not. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth cannot hear-- or if she can, she's not listening. No; should her mind be at all visible to the mental eye, all that is Llysereth has been replaced by the taunting demon that rises and falls above waves tarnished by moonlight, shadowed by the night sky. For the briefest of moments, as her mind climbs, she reaches out-- the faintest touch of Llysereth, wishing across the distance, but all that is her is swallowed again, disappearing like dust, scattered across the globe.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth slips towards your mind, his touch persistant but his mind reeling. He wantes to be there, to calm, he caught the glimer of Llysereth but the mind he caught was not one he knows. <
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth is not there; she is not anywhere. This foreign creature, inhabiting with high pitched, angry laughter, has no regard for Zymanth, shutting out his touch with the simplest motion. No - her mind is filled with flight, with freedom, the intoxicating rush enveloping her as she reaches higher, surveying the world - her kingdom - with lofty grace. << I don't want you! >> she crows, whether to Zymanth or Ahreluth it's impossible to tell. << You won't have me! >>
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth reels from the words as if wounded, but he fights! He is strong and more than anything he is there for when Llysereth returns - ever the anchor that he started off of. His iced touch trying to harden against such words as his wings snap to his back and the crack can be heard across the wall.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth hurtles higher, faster, stronger, every breath of her body, every muscle, devoted to that cause-- that desire for freedom. She may be ignoring Zymanth, not to mention Ahreluth, but her emotions throb across the bond between them nonetheless, and when out of nowhere, all that fight disappears, it is clearly obvious. A startled cry, and then purest bliss; Llysereth, wrapped about Ahreluth, caught safe. But as she falls, her thoughts return, a mournful note: to Zymanth, she pours her sorrow, her guilt, a plea for-- something, unknown.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth is there for the whole emotional ride, his body physically trembling as he fights with mind and sole to rise, to fly but still his body is the anchor beside Llysereth though all. His voice faint and soft as Llysereth returns a mourful note echoed in his own thoughts as he lightly, tenderly tries to flick the sorrow away.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth catches that sorrow, and it becomes her own; there's no escaping the warm, fuzzy feelings that wind through her own thoughts, safe and content within the grasp of her mate, but she /feels/ for Zymanth, wordlessly, silently, comforting in her softest of touches. << Thank you, >> she whispers, almost placing the words within Zymanth's mind, rather than verbalising them for herself. << Thank you. >>
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth keeps those words in his mind, his touch soft as he seems to roll the words about his toughts, saying them over in the same tone, the same sounds. Slowly his trembling calms, his touch seeking his riders but he is unable to relinquish his thoughs to Llysereth. He needs to let go, to leave Llysereth with Ahreluth, as is polite but the argument is now in his own mind.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth is ever herself: barely mated, and already, she's distanced herself from that in order to do what she does best-- comfort, her presence forever naive, prefering friendship to the delights of flights. Soothing is her touch, sweeping across the icy landscape like the soft beam of a lighthouse, warming and calming. She prefers this, content to be herself, the truest of friends.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth calls softely as he realxes, the beam of light sweeping across him soothing his shaking hide. His mind feels tired yet to sever the link would be death! The iced caverns of his mind warmed by the friendship and the naivety comforting.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth lets her mind, her touch, nestle down against Zymanth, icy tendrils wrapping gently across the physical distance, until, mentally, there is no distance at all. Poor Ahreluth must be feeling quite left out.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth curls into the comfort but extends his mind to take the nuzzle and envelop with love and friendship. Ahreloth who?! Zymanth knows he is in the wrong and this shimmer of though betrays him, yet his warmth is only for llysereth.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth would not, could not, make judgement there; instead, she responds only with her unabashed emotion-- hers is an empathy, an honest desire to please, which radiates through every stretch of her touch.
[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Zymanth is thankful for the touch, Zymanth is humbled from the touch and returns his with a whole heart. His voice but a whisper of soft thoughts, yet no words are spoken, more a rhythmic radiance of colour and sound. Could Llysereth be relaxing now. His mind flickers to find Ahreluth but he does not speak or utter a word.
[DTU/Project] Zymanth senses that Llysereth's touch is laced with a rosy ribbon, which encircles Ahreluth's form, winding about Zymanth's with equal, fragile delight-- there's room for them both within her deep, resonant heart. Ripples and shivers of silvered moonlight, and fragile violet, glisten through the soft, breathy soprano that is uniquely her own-- wrapping all within a cocoon of her absolute desire to please.