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.

02-09-01: Two Weyrwomen and a boywish Weyrleader
It's not often that three out of four of Ista's top team end up in the same place at the same time, and not on duty.

Lymera heads down the stairs to the beach.

Dusk is falling, and as the stars come out, the evening cools down. R'yn is at water's edge, hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, wading up and down in a line, pacing, as it were. Reaching one end, he turns about, and spots the weyrwomen, his teeth gleaming in the gathering dark as he offers a grin. "I must be the luckiest man alive. Visions of loveliness, side by side." It's a habit with him, really.

"This should probably be our cue to make R'yn's life entirely miserable," declares Lydiere by way of a cheerful greeting, descending the staircase onto the beach itself, her bare toes digging into the dark sand warmed by the day past.

Lymera snorts, looking decidedly un-lovely as she makes a face in her Weyrleader's direction, the expression turning quickly to a grin and accompaning laugh at Lydiere's words. "True." She follows in Lydiere's wake; she pauses for a moment, before girllishly leaping the last couple of steps onto the sand, regaining balance awkwardly before her hands resume their home in her pockets. "You know, your words would probably be more effective if you didn't greet /every/ single woman of the female persuasion in a similar manner." R'yn is informed in a cheerful manner, before Lymera leans over to pick up a stone, rolling the smooth roundness around in the palm of her hand.

R'yn laughs easily, shaking his head as he makes his way up the beach. "Ah, but you know I'm only practicing on the rest of them, don't you? You two are the real thing." One hand comes up to push away white-blonde locks as he slows, reaching the two women. "How are you both? And how are our queens, clutched and unclutched?"

Lydiere kicks her foot out in front of her, the dark sand gleaming as it's caught by the dying light of the day, falling down upon the ground again ahead of her, as she resumes her lazy walk towards the water's edge. "The two women you're most unlikely to get? How perverse of you," she comments, hands slung into the pockets of her shorts. "Well enough, well enough. Llysereth's already insisting that she's fat, even if it doesn't show in the slightest. Not unusual."

Lymera puts her hand over her heart. "Oh, R'yn do you really mean that? Oh, I never knew, oh, please come and seduce me in my Weyr tonight." Her voice is high pitched, teasing, her eyelashes working overtime. "Lydiere, I think I might faint! We're the real thing!" She seems to recover rather quickly, however, glaring over her shoulder in the direction of the Weyr. "Ysmalath is whining that she wants her hat back, whining that she's sick of the sands, whining about how long it's taking the eggs to harden, whining about the stars, whining about the wind, whining about the fact she has to breathe..." Hands are thrown up in disgust, before a sigh escapes and she shrugs. "Oh well. I wish I'd suggested a different object for Inv -- I mean, the candidate --" She glances over her shoulder yet again, before inspecting the beach. With a slight nod, she continues. "To steal, for your 'game'. But I thought that they'd have more incentive if it was something that was going to make it safer during the egg touchings, once it was found."

R'yn laughs easily, stooping for a minute to pick up a shell, dusting it off as he replies. "I'm sure they'll sort it out, sooner or later. So long as she doesn't go for my hat, I'm happy." And she hasn't gone for that in all the Turns he's worn it. Some perverse desire to irritate Lymera, no doubt. He turns his smile on Lydiere, offering her a coy wave, more suited to a holder girl. "But Lydiere, I am perverse. Why do you think they think me such a challenge? Not so hard to catch once, very hard to catch twice. Rather like Llysereth, it seems."

Lydiere's expression is drawn into a smirk, first for Lymera's dramatics, and then for mention of the hat-theft. "Colour me over-excited," she agreed, branching off into the hat-conversation with a note of, "They're rather slow in recovering it, I have to say. Perhaps they'd rather not touch eggs at all." Now at the water's edge, she reaches down, cupping her hands and filling them with salt water, which she dumps down again almost immediately. "Well, this is true, R'yn, I suppose."

Lymera shrugs again, glancing off towards the horizon, where water and dark sky meld into one. "I wouldn't blame them. Eggs are just so -- blah! -- compared to the real thing. I don't understand the people that hang out in the galleries for candlemark after candlemark each day." A smile quirks the corner of her mouth. "Ironic that I'm stuck in the position where I've no choice but to glare at them, day in, day out." At the mention of R'yn's hat, however, the smile is swept from her lips. "No, she won't even think about taking your hat. Won't even accept bribes."

R'yn laughs easily, one hand going to hatless head, to push his hair out of his eyes once more. "Of course she won't. She's my girl, Ysmalath." Turning his gaze upwards, he arches his back a little, regarding the stars as he continues. "Zippith doesn't seem to mind being out there with her, but I'm glad no one seems to want me there."

"True," agrees Lydiere, wryly. "They're rather boring to look at, and even to touch - but candidates seem to rather hover over them, obsessively. Perhaps they're of the belief that they'll attract a lifemate better if they know every curl and dollop of colour upon their shells?" She smirks again, mention of R'yn's hap drawing a roll of her eyes. "Llysereth's not much of a fan, either. Too cramped."

Lymera chuckles with a brief shake of her head. "Maybe the dragonets will stop to give them a quiz on which egg they came from and the specifics before they accept them? What a scary thought!" Lymera folds her legs, crossing them to sit on the damp dark sand, neck craning to look up at her fellow Istans. "I would've never have passed -- all I knew that it must have been a larger, probably gold-coloured egg that Ysmalath popped out of. On the bright side, it would've meant I didn't have to live with the internal whining during this time of the turn. Thank Zippith for me, won't you? Ysmalath needs entertainment, or she'd end up having buried all of the eggs and not being able to move for fear of squashing." Lymera winces. "Hence me having to dance regular attendance." Arms fold, and R'yn is the recipient of a half-hearted glare. "Ysmalath /is/ meant to be /my/ girl."

"Oh, you can both be my girkls, Ly, don't be jealous. Anyway, you were my girl long before that dragon of yours." R'yn's aiming to provoke, his eyes laughing as he looks up from examining his shell. " My favourite egg hatched out someone else's dragon, the first time I stood, and the second time I don't remember what it hatched, as Zip hatched out first. I stopped paying attention, at that point.

Lydiere admits, cheerfully, "I had absolutely no idea about what Llysereth's egg looked like, either. I wasn't all that fussed over Impression - didn't have a favourite egg, or anything. Egg watched, a few times, but mostly in terms of making bets over what I thought would hatch out of each. I think I lost most of my marks," she adds, reflecting thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if Ysmalath seems the type to be /anyone's/ girl. She's rather her own girl."

Lymera makes a face at R'yn, before freezing. "Argh. Stupid candidate leaning a little too far out from the Galleries." There's the audible sound of grinding teeth as Lymera gets to her feet, showing off a wet behind. "I'd better go before Ysmalath decides which one of The Terrible Fates to meld out to her."

R'yn shakes his head, watching Lymera retreat with a small smile. "Those two are more alike than they realise, most of the time. Perhaps we all are, although I've been told Zip's better behaved than I am." For which the man seems unrepentant. As Lymera departs, his voice is lowered, and he sinks to his haunches, playing with the sand as he speaks. "Is it all all right, after your flight?" His question is quiet, perhaps asked as both a weyrleader, and a friend.

Lydiere's eyes follow R'yn's, amusement playing upon her features. "There's something of a similarity. There has to be, I suppose. Why else would they pick us? Though Llysereth and I are generally fairly different." She digs her hands deeper into her miniature pockets, hesitating. "That's an interesting question," is her first comment. "G'wain's acting guilty - but I haven't yet heard the gossip that will suggest why, and he hasn't said anything. I don't anticipate it to be a real problem, as long as he's not been a real idiot. I'm certainly not worried about it."

"I must admit, I haven't heard either. Then again, I'm generally more interested in the antics of the weyr's women, if I have my choice. I'm sure he'll own up. And I'm fairly sure he's incapable of something truly idiotic where you're concerned. He's probably shunned a dip in a cold lake in favour of one of the more traditional loser's entertainments, which is hardly something to worry over. It's as flight-related as what you do, and means just as little. Knowing him, he'd probably decide to the contrary, though, and torture himself." R'yn, on the other hand, likes people to think he has no morals.

"Haven't you heard the tale of his attempts at beating up L'rien, when Xendrenth caught Llysereth? He's quite capable of idiocy, though I'm rather hoping he's grown out of it." Lydiere's brow furrows, her hands dug deeper still, though a smile eventually does crease her lips. "Oh, of course. /I/ know it's perfectly natural, and normal - but he hasn't quite accepted that, yet."

R'yn grins, looking over to her with a shake of his head. "Firstly, I'm fairly sure he'll continue to be capable of such idiocy as long as you two are 'mated. Secondly, I'd say it'll take about the same amount of time for him to shed his inhibitions. Probably longer." Which is likely to be a long time indeed. "Personally, it's one of my favourite parts of weyr life. Being on standby, that is."

Lydiere's expression breaks into a broader smile. "Probably. I can cope, though. I'd rather deal with it, once a turn, than not be able to have him around at all." Ah, true love - ever evident within the cant of her head, the contentedness of her smile. "I could never disbelieve that much. In my younger days, I might have considered that a wonderful thing - but Llysereth would never have allowed it, and then there was G'wain..." She grins.

R'yn shakes his head, easing back so he sits on the sand, still playing with his shell; now burying it in a small pile of sand. "Ah, listen to you. You've changed, Lydiere, from the girl you were when you impressed. I'm thoroughly ashamed of you. I'm far happier the way I am - I tried being madly in love for a little while, but she didn't love me back, so I stopped, in the end. A night is long enough to be in love, now." Leaning back, he returns to watching the stars.

Lydiere allows her smile to turn bland, then quirky, as she wades out into the water up to her knees, splashing at it with her hands. "I'd rather not have Llysereth griping in the back of my mind about how scandalizing I am," she points out, "So yes, I have. Not to mention the whole falling in love thing, and being unable to get over it the next day. Though, I will warrent that your way of life is probably simpler in the long run."

"I'd disagree. At least you don't have to try and remember names, first thing in the morning." R'yn props himself up on an elbow, his smile rueful, as is his voice. "I didn't get over it so quickly, though. I was mad about her for Turns, but I suppose I realised, later, rather than sooner, that friendship was all I'd get. So I treasure that, instead, and find my comfort where I can."

Lydiere uncovers a shell with her toe, and leans down to draw it out of the water, considering it thoughtfully. "Oh, the hardships. It /would/ be rather embarrassing to call her by the wrong name though, I suppose." She turns the shell within her hand, nodding slowly. "That's true. My first-- well, not love, but first serious relationship, ended poorly. I wish I'd managed to do it differently, when I realised that I didn't love him, but he's still never forgiven me. Friendship would be far better."

R'yn nods, slowly. "Aye. I treasure the friendship above anything else. The names..." A shrug, although it's probably hard to tell in the dark. "A variety of endearments usually do the trick." He stretches, and slowly, he rises, brushing the sand off his clothes. "I'd best get up and check on my girls, before I turn in. After all," He pauses, for a long moment, before continuing, sounding once more amused - perhaps at himself. "Lymera's a very good friend." Is that an admission?

Lydiere's gaze flickers slightly, eyebrows lifting just slightly, though she makes no comment to match those motions. "Friendship is always most important. It lasts, when other things don't," she declares, musingly nudging her toe against the ocean floor in search of more shells. "See you tomorrow, I'm sure, R'yn. And sleep well."

"I will, I'm sure. I find a little exercise always helps me drift off. So, off to check in on Ly, then to find a little exercise. You should see if you can't find that weyrmate of yours, get in some exercise yourself, get silly ideas out of his head." And with a grin, and a wave, R'yn's retreating.

Lydiere's expression turns into a light smirk, and she chuckles. "Yes, Weyrleader. Of course, Weyrleader."