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.

01-07-02: New faces
Escaping from the sands to such delightful company is always worth it.

You stride east to the Living Caverns.
Lydiere is eight months pregnant, but looks less; she's downright scrawny, the rounded curve of her pregnancy far less visible than might be expected. Nonetheless, it's with a lumbering gait that she steps across the caverns, wiping sand, which has stuck to sweat, from her face, pausing to pour herself a glass of juice at the serving tables. Draining half in a single gulp, the woman refills her glass, and then turns towards the caverns to seek out a seat.

Deyrenia herself is settled quite nicely in the far corner of the Caverns. Taking her time to finish the bowl of stew she'd placed before her, while spending a good amount of concentration on the parchments before her. Absorbtion is key when reading these scrolls, and the woman makes no mistake about that. She does however, manage to glance up as she hears the entrance of another person, offering warm smile and a dip of her head by way of greeting.

Lydiere, by chance, or perhaps due to the fact that she catches a glimpse of that smile and nod, circles around the room to draw out one of the empty chairs at Deyrenia's table, lugging herself into it as she places her glass down upon the table's surface. "Afternoon," she greets, although with once glance at the scrolls - and a wrinkle of her nose - she goes quiet, sipping at her juice.

"Afternoon, Junior Weyrwoman" Deyrenia returns, offering yet another smile. Scrolls, are for the moment forgotten as she sweeps them into a small pile, then folding her hands atop the table, before gazing at the woman once more, "You look as if you've seen enough of those to last you a while." Slightly amused response is accompanied by an apologetic smile, "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Lydiere, please," returns the woman, with a bright smile, as her fingers coil once again about the glass of juice in front of her. "And you're-- Faranth, I'm sorry. Not good with names." Her nod is wry, nose once again wrinkling as she grimaces, "More than more than enough. Although scrolls and hides and things are at least better than computers. Can't /stand/ all that technology." Shaking her head, Lydiere leans back in her chair, stretching out, "No, no, I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

"Deyrenia," Deyrenia supplies, grinning. "Now if I can just remember to drop the title, I'll not be offending you anymore." Later mentioning of computers draws a slight wince from Deyrenia as well, as she shakes her head. "I have to agree with you there. They're near impossible to tote around. So much easier when you've just a pack of scrolls to deal with." A wry grin upon mentioning that, before she drops her head in a nod and turns her gaze around the room, while rolling her shoulders to ease the tension within them.

Lydiere ahs, repeating them name twice as if this is going to make her memory any better. Her hands are returned to the table, fanning out so that her fingers hang on to the edge, the rest of her hands dropping off the side, head nodding. "Not offending," she adds, "But... I have a name. Seems silly not to use it, in my opinion. Computers... yes. Can't carry them around, and I can't type properly, anyway. Plus, they break all the time. I just don't understand them." Tilting her head to the side, she wonders, "What were you reading, anyway?"

"I've been told to always use titles. Seems strange not to do so," Deyrenia comments, "Though I do have to agree again. Makes things easier when you can't remember the title of someone you're suppose to." A flush of red tinges her cheeks briefly as she laughs, "Which isn't something I intend to do much more of." The later words of the woman are given a nod and agreeing 'mmhm', "I've not had the chance to be around one as of yet, but that's because I avoid them as best as possible. They're just too.." A slight pause as she searches for the right word, "Strange. Not like the scrolls I'm use to." Which are then indicated with a hand, before one is selected, "These..are old stories. Well, not old stories, but ones I came across when I was young. It's a habit of mine, collecting them. I do it whenever I get the chance." One such scroll is proffered towards Lydiere, "You're more then welcome to read one if you'd like? Or all of them. I can't say much for the quality, but I find them relaxing at times."

"But /why/. I only consider myself to be a Junior Weyrwoman when I'm working," explains Lydiere, drawing one of her feet up onto an empty chair, following it through with the other. "And even then, I'd rather be myself, than a title. Although I find titles easier to remember, than names. Perhaps that's because I can read knots quickly." Her grin towards Deyrenia is broad. "Strange. Good word. I'll never get used to them." Eyebrows lifting, she accepts the proffered scroll, commenting, "Oh, what a lovely hobby. I'd love to get a chance to read them. Stories are wonderful things. Besides which, knowing some to tell the sproglet seems like a good idea, don't you think?"

Work. The dreaded 'W' word. Deyrenia's nose scrunches as she hears it, before breaking into a wide grin. "That's actually a good point. I can see now why you like to be called Lydiere." The womans motions are watched with light amusement, for she'd be doing the same had she the same work load, "Hmm. Knots aren't a favorite of mine either. They're easy to miss at some times and even harder to remember. At least in my opinion." Shoulders are lifted in a slight shrug as she grins, "But I'm not one to pay much attention to detail as it is. So that could explain it." A lift of her brows to emphasize that, "Well you're welcome to them anytime. Just send word that you'd like them, or better yet, you can take a few with you if you'd like? I've most of them committed to memory." A sheepish grin at that, for doing so speaks of too much free-time on one's hands, before she drops her head in a emphatic nod to respond to Lydiere's later words. "Oh I do."

Lydiere's own nose seems to mimic Deyrenia's in that scrunch, as she drops hands from the edge of the table, resting them about her middle. "Good," says she, and then, tilting her head to the side, "The harpers didn't try and beat you over the head with knot charts until you knew them without fault? I suppose I didn't /really/ get to know them perfectly until I started working here," she adds, as if answering her own question. "It's an important skill to have, though, I think." Rapidly, she nods her head, fiddling with the edge of the scroll in her hands, "I'll take this one, for the moment, and come and see you to get more, when I've had the chance to finish with this one. Time is not something I have a lot of, I'm afraid, and I wouldn't want to keep you from them, even if you have memorised them."

Deyrenia nods slowly, "Oh they tried," She responds, stressing the last word. "Though I'm afraid they had to declare the entire business as hopeless and abandoned it not soon after starting." Lips quirk upwards upon mentioning this, "I was amused, though they were anything but. I suppose it's part of the reason why I never went back." Shoulders are shrugged once more as she sets that thought aside, "There's always time though. I suppose if I truly wanted to learn the knots it'd not take long. There just has to be a motivation." Speaking of which, Deyrenia raises to her feet, crossing the room to secure a mug of klah before returning, "That and I'd have to have the right teacher. The later of which seems to be in short demand." A soft smile is offered before she takes a long sip from her mug, "Mm.. you're welcome to all the ones you'd like. I've plenty more that I didn't bring." Her gaze falls on the large stack to her right, "Though I'll be glad to supply you with any that you wish. Sharing stories is as important as collecting them."

Lydiere's lips quirk cheerfully, a wry twitch following as she presses them together, as if attempting to avoid full-blown laughter. "I can imagine. Harpers tend to be very...hidebound, in such manners. The present Masterharper is less so, in my experience, but then again, I know her more personally, so perhaps she's different in work." Fastening her fingers about her glass again, Lydiere draws it to her lips, taking a short sip, which leaves little but dregs in the bottom of the glass, and then wiping her mouth with a couple of her fingers. "Thank you, I appreciate that. I think you're right, too-- we need to preserve the knowledge, keep it going. Keep it flowing, I suppose. Almost sounds like a Harper project, really."

Deyrenia grins once more, nodding emphatically. "Too much so. That's what I noticed. Shells," A slight slip of the tounge that causes a slight tenseful pause, before Deyrenia clears her throat, "I mean, the moment I walked through the doors, all I saw were books. At first I was excited. But then I realized that they weren't all stories. And then the lessons began." A shake of her head proceeds a small laugh, "And the lessons. I was glad to just get back home and stick with my stories. So much less fuss." Klah is sipped at once more before she presses a cloth against her lips. "Too true at that. That's the only way to keep history alive. To pass it on, really. That's one thing I do admire about the Harpers. They've a wonderful job and they're wonderful people for doing as they do."

Lydiere laughs wryly, admitting, "I was not a patient scholar, myself. Determined to be a Seacrafter, and what did a Seacrafter need with all that kind of thing? But I suppose I figured that the sooner I learnt it all, the sooner I could stop studying it, so I learnt pretty quickly. I'm not a reader, really, although," she brandishes the scroll in her hand, "Anything, if it it's going to be good for my child. I'd rather tell a story, than read it, but I need to read it before I can tell it, I suppose." She tilts her head to the side, agreeing quickly, "Oh, absolutely. I could never do it, but someone needs to, and I think they do a wonderful job of it."

"A seacrafter?" Deyrenia asks quite suddenly, "Oh the stories you must know!" An exhultant breath of air passes as she grins, "I once heard of the most amazing one from a man I met at the Weyr once. A traveler really, though he said he use to be an ex-Seaman. He told me once of a story he learned as a child. I still have it back in the Dorms. Along with a few others. There's so many wonderful tales that are told of the seas." Adimant and excited about her hobby, Deyrenia then forces herself to a slower pace, before replying, "Reading is always good I think. Though I'm biased." Which was truth. "Harpers are a rare-breed, truly." A last agreeing reply to Lydiere's words as she nods her head once more.

Lydiere's smile breaks into a laugh, which ripples right through her slender frame, as she nods her head. "I know a fair few, I would have to say, yes. If you'd like, we can try and set up a time, and I'll relate some to you, for your collection. I was a Seacrafter for nearly nine turns, after all." Wryly, Lydiere grins, "I guess that only reillustrates how different people can be. Although I will have to note that my weyrmate and I did try and write a romance story, once. Oh! Have you met Jessamy, I wonder? She's one of the cooks, and apparently she's a bit of a writer in her spare time. She might have some good stories for you, too."

"Oh I'd love to!" Deyrenia responds, "I've only a few stories from that one man, before he had to leave. I'd love to add a few more. They're all so lovely." Grinning broadly now towards Lydiere, Deyrenia will only shake her head in disbelief. "All this time and I never knew that. It goes to show how much I truly don't know about my home Weyr." Slightly chiding herself, she'll pause before lips quirk upwards in a grin. "Now those are hard to write. I've tried myself, though I lack the knowledge of how to do so. Tales of adventure and wonder are what I'm best at, though I do have a friend who gave writing romance stories a shot. Did quite a good job too, though she's long since apprenticed to the Smith craft." Mentioning of the name Jesamy has a slight affect, as Deyrenia tilts her head back, "The name does sound familiar, but I've heard so many I can't truly say that I do know her. Though should I ever meet her, I'd be glad to swap stories."

"Excellent," says Lydiere, smiling brightly. "We'll have to make sure we sit down and do that at some point, then. I might have to drag my son in, too, when he gets back from seeing his father-- he's much better at remembering all the details, and may even have learnt some more while he's been away." Returning Deyrenia's grin, Lydiere adds, "It's amazing the things you do pick up, I know. There's so many people in the weyr, so many stories and experiences. Certainly never boring!" She turns - almost - a little pink as she admits, "G'wain and I never got very fair. It was... distracting." And she'll say no more on that. "I'm amazed at the people who can do it. Well - I'm amazed at people who can write anything, really."

Deyrenia won't venture to probe or comment upon that one point of Lydiere's, offering only a slight smile and dip of her head in a nod. "Well it's something I tried once, though I doubt I'll try it again. There's something missing from the tales of romance that just arent there in the tales I hear around the Weyr, and as you said, they are there aplenty." A wide-grin is given at the well known fact of Weyr life, "And I'll be much indebt to you and your son for that, any chance at finding new stories is a chance I can't pass up." There is a blush upon the words of praise from Lydiere, Deyrenia offering a small cant of her head forwards as she says, "Well thank you. I'm in awe of most people every day of my life. Especially you, for all that you do for the Weyr. Writing is a little thing that I can do to help and entertain, and I do it gladly."

"We have to try everything once," begins Lydiere, winking, "Or something like that. That's what my fostermother always used to say, and what my Aunt is still always telling me, when I do manage to see her. As far as the romance tales go, I guess there's a certain something that's needed, to make them seem realistic, and not staged. They read so... fakely, if they're not done properly. Not, of course," she adds, "that I read them all that often." Her head is tilted forward warmly, Lydiere responding, "You're quite welcome, of course. Keid and I will be delighted, I have no dou--" She blushes furiously, waving a hand at Deyrenia as if trying to wave away the return praise. "Don't be. Just a job. No more important than any other job. In the end, all of it is necessary, in one way or another."

Jessamy takes this moment to make her entrance, wandering otu of the kitchen with stains on her apron and a dark expression on her face. Yet another joyful day spent in toil and trouble. She pays no mind to anyone in the living caverns, her mind intent on one thing. Beverage. Nice, cold, thirst-quenching and stress-relieving beverage, and she drinks off an entire glass just standing right there at the serving table before pouring another. There, that's somewhat better at any rate, and at last she turns to find a place to sit. No. No, not sit. Flop, and ooze.

"A job that has as many, if not more, stresses then others." Deyrenia dutifully responds, "If the Harpers taught me one thing, it was that." A sheepish grin is offered once more, before she takes yet another sip from her mug of klah. "Stories though, can only go so far. My parents keep telling me so in hopes that I'll find something more 'productive' to do with my life." The last said with a slight frown, "Though I tell tell them I can't think of much else that I'd want to do. Not with everything I've learned from the stories." As if this were a helpless matter all together, Deyrenia just shakes her head and settles back in her chair, her gaze switching towards Jessamy as she enters, offering the woman a polite nod of her head and smile.

Lydiere rolls her eyes, "But that doesn't make it any more important. And, to be honest, I'd rather /not/ have it, if I had the choice. Harpers dwell too much on the exploits of goldriders, I tell you." Her fingers draw closer her glass, which is long since empty, and she considers it vacantly, adding, "The weyr needs people like you, Deyrenia, I think. We need people who do the every day chores, and provide us something with far more valuable - those stories. Your parents just want you to do great things, I imagine, like all parents do." Deyrenia's nod is caught, and Lydiere turns about in her seat, watching Jessamy silently. "Long day, Jessamy?" she wonders, smile widening. "Come join us."

Jessamy takes a moment to respond to both greetings, her mind fried by too much steam and smoke in too small a space... but she does, at last, manage a grateful smile as she moves slowly to where the other two women sit. "It was torture," she agrees in a murmur to Lydiere's question, as she lowers herself to a chair with care. It's amazing how many muscles get abused when cooking. After a moment, manners are remembered and Jess wipes one hand across the front of her apron to extend towards Deyrenia. "I'm Jessamy. Cook. I believe I've seen you around here before."

Deyrenia drops her head in silent agreement with Lydiere, though offering no words she does take another sip from her klah. "I thank you for that, now all I need is for my parents to hear that," She responds at last, "They'd have liked to see me in the Harper Craft, but it just wasn't for me. Sometimes you just know things like that, and that's the way it was for me. Though I do know they want great things for me, they just don't see it with what I'm doing." A slightly humorous smile upon saying that, "I haven't yet told them I've been looking into jobs here at the Weyr. Though I've yet to find one. Might you have any suggestions?" This asked, before she half stands and offers her own hand towards Jessamy, "Well met Jessamy, I'm Deyrenia, simple Resident here at Ista so it's entirely possible." A wave to the bowl of stew she had before her, before she says, "I owe you my compliments for the stew. It was rather well today."

Invariel walks into the Living Caverns, shaking his head, peering at the ground. He quickly makes his way to the serving table, and orders himself something. There's a bowl on his tray, a plate with some sort of meat, and a glass with some breed of liquid. He mutters under his breath, almost as if he's a bit displeased. He heads toward the dark table hidden well in the corner, not glancing about to see if he recognises anyone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jessamy," returns Lydiere, drawing one foot off of the chair upon which it's sitting, to rest it up on the edge of the chair she's sitting in, rubbing at a swollen ankle. "Deyrenia's right, though. If you had anything to do with the stew, it was nice, although I have to say I prefered the bread and cold wherry slices." Drawing her leg back down beneath the table, with a light wince, the Junior Weyrwoman smiles, "Parents are like that, I'm afraid. I only hope I'm not that bad with mine. A job? As in, more than just chores, I suppose. I'm not sure. The Sable Sands is always looking for new people, I suppose, but your parents really may not approve of that. Working in a club-cum-bar, after all."

"It's a pleasure, Deyrenia," Jessamy offers in return, slowly relaxing into the relative comfort of her chair, letting all the tension of work roll out of her shoulders. With her juice. That juice is all the keeps her going. "Ah, the stew. Yes, I did most of that. I made the broth, at any rate, all the ingredients were chopped up by others, but I made the broth. I stirred it. Continually," she adds, shooting a wry look down at her arms, who have suffered the consequences of this diligence. The cook, however, readily lets go of the day, in favor of lighter conversation topics. "I'm sure you're a wonderful parent," she interjects, just jumping into the conversation both feet first. Invariel catches her eye - who knows why? These things just happen. She raises a hand to try and wave at him before he gets to his corner to sink into hermitude.

"Have you tried soaking your feet, Lydiere?" Deyrenia asks, after watching the womans movements, "Or better yet, having your feet rubbed? My mother did both when she was pregnant with my youngest sibling. She said it worked wonders. And for strained muscles," She responds, turning then towards Jessamy, "Perhaps you should try a long soak?" All of this said with a slight tenseness, for Deyrenia hated sounding like a know-it-all, and before any confusion can come, she hastily responds, "My mothers mother was a healer, still is. She insisted that I visit her one summer. I expect it was a covert attempt at trying to have the Healer hall win my heart." Which was an obvious failure as she was here today. After offering her words of 'wisdom', Deyrenia turns to nod at Jessamy, "Well it was delicious. I'll have to have another bowl before I return back to the dorms." Her gaze then switches towars Invariel as Jessamy waves towards him, Deyrenia offering her own polite nod of the head and smile, though both may be unseen by the man.

Invariel is too busy gazing at the floor, muttering to notice anyone, but does hear Jessamy's voice, and her stirring of the broth. It does look delicious. A quick glance up at her, and a smile, and then a small spat of solitude for the Guard.

"Even accolades aren't enough to make your muscles stop hurting, hm?" comments Lydiere lightly, her attention shifting back to Deyrenia once she has said this. "I have, and it works to some extent, but the fact that Llysereth is on the sands, requiring me to be there, seems to undo most of what I manage to achieve. G'wain's been taught how to rub them properly," here, she turns her head, greeting Invariel, having noted the greetings of the others about her, "so he does that of an evening, and it helps. Thank you, Jessamy, I certainly hope I am."

Jessamy just closes her eyes, with an expression on her face that is very near to bliss. "A long soak. Shells, that sounds better than anything I can think of right now," she murmurs, with a soft sigh following the last word. "Unfortunately," she continues, opening her eyes to look at Deyrenia again. "I don't think I have enough strength to drag myself to the lower caverns, so I think I'll be stuck until my legs start working again. I've been standing way too long today." She pauses for a moment, listening to Deyrenia speak, with a smile on her lips. "My aunt was the same way, she desperately wanted me to become a healer. Something 'respectable', you know. Of course, I end up living at a -Weyr-" Oh, the scandal. "Writing. There's nothing worse, of course." She looks away from the other woman for a moment, to see what Invariel's gotten himself up to, and she raises a hand to wave to him again. "Come, join us Invariel," she says, at least extending the invitation.

"I can see how that'd be a problem," Deyrenia responds softly, "And there's nothing you can do to soothe them while on the Sands either." A prediciment that will have Deyrenia thinking of ways to alieviate that for quite some time now, rest assured. "That doesn't sound enviable either, not in the least." Deyrenia responds to Jessamy, shaking her head. "With all the hard work that's done around here, I'm surprised there aren't bathing pools in every room. Come to think of it, it'd look rather strange, but I'm sure some would appreciate it." A half pause interceeds her words as she lays hands across her stomach before saying, "The life though, isn't the same." A final conclusion on that matter, stated with great meaning as Deyrenia glances around the area. "There are many things that you can only learn in a Weyr." Her own scrolls resting beside her glanced at as writing is mentioned, before a curious tilt of her head is given, "You don't enjoy writing?"

Invariel looks up from his solitude and darkness, and nods. Packing up his tray once more, the man stands, and walks toward Jessamy. And Lydiere, it seems. And, ... someone he doesn't recognise at all. He tries putting on a smile, but it comes off somewhat wrong. Almost as if he's forcing it. Setting his tray down, he nods to the women. "Good evening."

"Soaking," repeats Lydiere with a long sigh, "is a wonderful thing. I actually do have a mini bathing cavern in my weyr, but I admit, that's something that not many people get. Best thing I could have, though, I swear." She nods towards Deyrenia, "I'd like to have, like, a pool of water on there, but it's fairly useless, since it'd just evaporate, pretty quickly." She glances up at Invariel, lifting her eyebrows at his smile, although she says nothing, merely bobbing her head towards him again.

Jessamy shakes her head quickly, with a light laugh at her own error. "No, that's not... My aunt. My aunt thought writing was the worst thing imaginable. Of course, I come from a family of writers, so we don't have much contact with her anymore," she finishes, with a smile that suggests that she doesn't really mind being estranged from that particular woman. "Yes, the Weyr has been wonderful for me. It's still kind of... well, shocking at times. Certain things. But I can't imagine ever living anywhere else, now. This place is more a home than my home was," she says, with evident satisfaction. She's found her place, even if she doesn't like it being in the kitchen. As Invariel arrives she directs a warm smile towards him. "Good evenin', Inve," she says, not seeming to notice the strangeness of his smile. "How are you doing?"

"Hmm, I've to travel should I wish to soak. And most oft it doesn't appear to be worth the trip." A sly grin for her own words, before Deyrenia's face breaks into a wide grin upon hearing Jessamy's words. "I'm grateful then, for a moment I feared you'd say you were against writing. It's one of my true passions, and I was told you were of the same. Maybe we can swap stories some time? I've a great many that I'd love to share." This offered towards Jessamy, before Deyrenia turns to offer Invariel a nod of her head and slight smile, "Good day, I'm Deyrenia." Her name having been suplied as she finds herself lacking in placing a name for his face, and assuming he may very well be having the same problem.

Invariel tries to adopt a cheerful demeanor and asks, "So, what are we talking about tonight? I heard something about soaking?" And, he nods at Jessamy's comment. He /sounds/ cheerful enough as he says, "Aye, the Weyr is definately something which grows on you. And very much my home now as well." As to her question, a quick shrug. "Well enough, I suppose. Just had a long day. Too long." And then, to the new person. "Ahh. I was just about to ask. Invariel. Guard. From, well, here now." Another attempt at a smile. And, he even succeeds this time.

"I was actually mentioning you to Deyrenia," comments Lydiere, tilting her head towards Jessamy, "hearing that she was also into writing, and stories. G'wain was telling me about how he told you about /our/ little story, and you wanted to write it, so you were the first person I thought of." She rises from her seat, adding quietly, "You'll all have to excuse me, I'm afraid. Llysereth's upset at being left so long. I /swear/ the eggs are waiting extra long, just to put me in agony, and her in a bad mood. Good day!"

You exit the caverns, heading out into the bowl.