February 5, 2003
R'hyn talks with Y'ric, and plays mediator between Serriena and her son.

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You wing your way down, landing on the curve of the beach.

** Arisvath circles downwards, landing without fuss or too much flying sand, not far from the water's edge, a wave lapping up about his forelimbs whilst R'hyn unstraps himself, shaking off a dust-covered jacket. One boot, and then the other, are dropped from the bronze's neckridges, and then it's R'hyn himself, barefooted, stretching his shoulders in relief.

Arisvath crouches low, allowing you to swing your leg over his neckridges, and climb nimbly towards the ground, with the help of his straps.

Y'ric, from his prone position against a heavily lidded Mrinath who absently rumbles a greeting at Arisvath, sketches a lazy salute at the Weyrleader. His silence is notable, a diffidence of not wanting to disturb the other's thoughts.

R'hyn brushes sand off of his breeches, which are already thick with dust and dirt, rising back to a standing position as he turns to remove Arisvath's straps, leaving them in a pile beside the bronze. Throughout this process, he doesn't acknowledge the other rider, but once complete, he turns. "Er, a fine evening, isn't it."

Y'ric glances up at the appearing stars and nods noncomittally. "I've seen worse." Slight brushing motion at the ocean and a side-mouthed smile at the dust flying off. "Good enough for a swim if that's where you're headed. Looks like you could use it." The upper pitched end leaves that as an open-ended bid for conversation about the reasons for all the dirt, but he doesn't ask outright.

"Your enthusiasm is catching," murmurs R'hyn, in a tone that is close enough to a mutter that it's not clearly audible - though audible nonetheless. Digging his hands into his pockets, he shakes his head, "Just walking. I can clean back at the weyr, once I've got the smell of manure from my nose. I hadn't realised how much stables stink."

Y'ric looks at his Weyrleader closely, ignoring the comment about his enthusiasm. "Looks like you rolled in it." Curiousity finally gets the better of him. "What happened? Or shouldn't I ask?" Doesn't look as if he's going to let the Weyrleader get away with walking off right at the moment.

R'hyn uses a dirty hand to push a lock of hair from his eyes, and smiles bemusedly - turning vaguely pink, not an unusual thing for the shy Weyrleader to do. "Stables got damaged, at Brivhar Hold. They were fixing them as I was dropping in on sweeps, and I couldn't just say 'Oh, that's nice, carry on', so I mucked in and helped."

Concern flashes an instant over Y'ric's face, a minute tightening of muscles in his frame echoed in the half unlidding of one of Mrinath's eyes. "What happened?" Humor flashes in his own eyes. "Besides you getting acquainted with the wrong end of a runner's leavings?"

"I tripped." R'hyn's answer is simply said, complete with flaming blush. "At least they've decided I'm, you know, a real person, now." So that's dust, dirt, sand - and runner dung. No wonder he's now pointedly avoiding contact with his breeches.

Y'ric's eyes immediately drop to the sands. If they'd dropped any faster, they would've fallen out and rolled into it. "I uh... see." The noises coming from him sound suspiciously like muffled laughter. More than suspiciously as now Mrinath is beginning to rumble like a low roll of thunder which fortunately does much to mask the brownrider's choked noises.

R'hyn flashes a glance towards Mrinath, then returns his gaze to Y'ric, flushing darker still, at a rumble from Arisvath. "I bet anyone would have done it," he gripes, head lowered in embarrassment. "It does happen to everyone, you know."

Y'ric raises his head, looks again at R'hyn, and the guffaws tear loose. To his credit, he does try once or twice to stop, but the merriment continues until it dies down like a sudden spring storm. A callused hand rubs the tears from his eyes, his voice holding the edges of laughter tight in it. "Yes it could. Happens all the time. I've stepped in my fair share of it." Another amused filled look. "But I can't say as how I've worn it too often. Your secret's safe with us, Weyrleader." A thump of emphasis on Mrinath's side. "You ought to take a quick dip in the water though, or the whole weyr will smell you coming."

R'hyn, for a moment, looks positively murderous in expression, and then he, too cracks a smile, though his blush does not recede. "You're perhaps right, Brownrider," he agrees, after a pause, glancing down at his trousers and shirt. He turns, stepping into the surf until he's up to his knees, at which point he turns back, to squat and splash himself with the salty water.

Y'ric gets up from his lounging position, brushing sand off his trousers and meeting the Weyrleader's look with affable equanamity. The process of buckling straps and automatically checking them as he does occupies him for the duration of R'hyn's impromptu ablutions. He pauses, one foot on his dragon's upraised foreleg, awkwardness shadowing his voice. "Come crack a bottle with me some day, Weyrleader, and I'll tell you a story or two that'll make you forget about what happened today. We all make our mistakes, don't we?" A pat on the glossy hide of his dragon before he salutes and mounts up.

"I'll keep you up on that one, Brownrider," promises R'hyn, with a wry smile. The blush is finally disappearing. "I suppose we do. I'll see you around."

Niaryth drops down to a landing from the sky overhead.

Serriena dismounts from Niaryth, using her extended forelimb for help down.

R'hyn's crouching in the water, which is only about thigh-height, apparently trying to clean himself off a little. Arisvath's watching, from the sand, the water lapping up against his forelimbs on the seventh waves, but otherwise not quite reaching him.

Niaryth lands on the beach, letting off a small whuffle at something. It amused her, and Serriena dismounts a moment later, her smile turned on Niaryth as they share in enjoyment. The gold croons a greeting to Arisvath, lowering her head so that Serriena can untether a bucket and small shovel from her straps.

"Serri," greets R'hyn, after a pause - it's Arisvath's rumble towards Niaryth that alerts him to their presence, because he's had his eyes closed. "Searching for-- uh, what're they called? Those things that you dig for, right?"

"Molls," Serri says, with a smile. "Evening R'hyn. Washing off?" Serriena's kicking back in cutoff pants and a long sleeved tunic, something that looks to be years old. She takes off her sandals and digs her feet into the dark Istan sands.

R'hyn glances down at his clothes, somewhat self-consciously, though they're not hideously dirty, now. Just wet. "Uh, yeah," he agrees, rising to his feet and wading out of the water, a wave coming up behind him and wetting him again.

"Do you want to hunt for them with me?" Serriena asks. "I don't eat them, but I do like to open them up. Niaryth enjoys their taste. She says it's not like herdbeast, but a little salty - like fish." She smiles. "Arisvath might want to try them." She points a bit up the beach. "Usually they are heavy over there in the rocks at night."

R'hyn gets back up onto dry sand, dripping heavily, and grins. "Sure, all right. I guess that means you're not craving them, or anything... Are you craving anything, by the way? I mean, I don't want you to go without, if you are, and I can get it." He blusters over this, then comes to a pause. Babbling. Oh, right.

Serriena bursts into laughter. She shakes her head, "It's too soon for that R'hyn." She is still chuckling as she says, "My cravings hit me in my fourth month with the triplets. And you won't want to get me what I was craving." She falls into step, heading upshore a bit, facing into the wind coming off the ocean.

R'hyn turns scarlet, as he follows Serriena up the beach, admitting, "I don't really know these things. Saera-- well, I, uh, avoided that, a bit. What... What was it you were craving?"

"Sarae?" Serri asks, tiling a curious glance over her shoulder. She walks calmly and slow, enjoying the night breeze. She lifts her head, sniffing the air somewhat. "I love that salt smell." She looks back, "Well I ate stew with a bubbly pie hidden beneath it.. meat and sweets."

"My sister," explains R'hyn, quickly. "Saera's my sister." He rubs at his breeches, which look awfully uncomfortable, wet, though the evening is warm enough that it could be worse. "Salt is-- well, I like the sea, too, and you did /what/? Oh."

"That's right.. I keep forgetting that she has a name similar to mine." Serriena turns to look at R'hyn, noticing he's rubbing his breeches. "Are you alright R'hyn?" She nods to his legs. "Did something happen?" She stops amidst a small rocky outcropping where tidepools have collected.

R'hyn admits, after a pause, "I hadn't really stopped to think that your names were similar, but I suppose they are. I guess I just think of you in different ways." He glances back down at his breeches, and explains, "I, uh, was helping mend the stables at one of the holds. I, uh, tripped. Just... dirty."

"I see, you didn't.. accidentally fall into something did you?" Serriena's face is comically half a worried frown and half a laughing smile, her brows raised trying to guess if R'hyn may have hurt himself in one way or another. She sits down on one of the rocks, sticking her feet into the tidepool to keep them wet.

R'hyn hesitates again, and then nods. "Uh, yes," he admits. "I don't think I smell anymore, though, so that's something, right?" He doesn't look hurt - just embarrassed.

Derien comes over the dunes and down the path from the jungle clearing.

Serriena looks confused a moment before she suddenly bursts into laughter! She and R'hyn are way up on the beach away from their dragons. Serriena's sitting on a rock outcropping, her feet dangling into the water. "Oh R'hyn... no you don't smell at all," she is quick to reassure. "Not that it will matter much soon anyways." She holds out the shovel. "We'll be digging in the sand for the molls."

R'hyn turns scarlet - again - though he looks relieved. "Well, that's true. I'll just smell sandy, and that's all right, isn't it?" He accepts the shovel, holding it as he takes a step into the water, dampening the bottoms of his breeches again.

Derien comes in with his harp case and smiels as he sees his mother, "Hi Mama!" He rushes over to her to give her a hug and smiles at R'hyn, "Hello Weyrleader sir."

Niaryth chirks softly at Derien in greeting.

"Derien!" Serriena looks at Derien as he runs over to where she sits with R'hyn. "You're out late. What are you doing on the beach? Did you want to moll hunt too?" She has a bucket and R'hyn has a shovel, looking ready to dig in the dirt for the small things. Serriena hugs her son, and hops off her rock to join R'hyn in the water's edge.

R'hyn's eyebrows lift at the harp case - though it's obvious that he doesn't feel its his place to comment on its presence in the salt and sand. Instead, he merely smiles at the little boy, glancing down at his feet, and the sand and water.

Derien smiles at his favoirte gold in the whole world, "Hello Niaryth. I got a new harp." He smiles at his mama and gently kisses her cheek. "I came out here for inspiration. I am writing a song for Belle, but I am NOT! Going to marry her. No matter what everyone else says."

Serriena blinks. "You got a new harp Derien?" Confusion etches her face, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. "What new harp?" How could a nearly nine-turn old kid afford a new harp? "And why do you have it out here? This sand will ruin it." As to the Belle comment, she makes none of her own, not sure why anyone is teasing her son about the girl.

R'hyn glances at Serriena, then back at the sand. Not his place. He starts to dig in the sand - just randomly.

Derien nods, "Well it's not new. It's old. The apprentice I got it from says the first Masterharper made it. I traded him my new harp for it." He takes out the harp and it's a golden brown that has been polished from turns of use and the strings look strong, but old. "Because I need music to help my musing. I am an artist." He flares his hand in a gesture and smiles at his mother.

Serriena looks startled and upset all at once. "Derien!" She groans, "Tell me you didn't trade your birthday harp for that old thing!?" She sounds disbelieving, raising a hand to bury her forehead in it. She scrunches up her bangs and then releases them, as if pulling them out. "Tell me you didn't." She holds out the bucket for R'hyn to drop some molls inside, in case he finds any.

R'hyn glances up again, to peer at Derien in disbelief, though he flushes scarlet, too. Still shoveling, he doesn't find anything, though, beneath his breath, he murmurs, "Oh dear."

Derien nods, "I did." He strums the harp, "It's really neat too. If I sing a lie the strings break, so everyone will know that I always sing the truth." He strums the harp, "Beautiful gold Niaryth, is the most beautiful gold in all the of Pern in my humble opinion."

Who can argue with that logic? Serriena's face is torn between frowning and laughing again, finally letting out a groan. Niaryth hears the strums and the proclamation of her beauty and creels at Derien, agreeing completely! Doesn't Arisvath agree too? She croons to him. "Derien," Serriena shakes her head, "Honey, that thing could not have belonged to the original Master Harper. It would be dust by now."

R'hyn, finally, comes up with a moll, and silently drops it into the bucket. Silence, again; this is definitely not his place to say anything.

Derien shakes his head, "Naught uh. The apprentice said that he found it in an old chest that had the harper's name on it."

"Derien," Serriena shakes her head, "Tomorrow sweetie when you go to the Hold, I want you to tell this apprentice that your mother said you're supposed to get /YOUR/ harp back." She looks sternly at him. "I expect you to have your harp back by tomorrow night."

R'hyn kneels down, beginning to dig with his hands, and notes, "Someone tried to trade me for a Masterharper's drum, once. Kids like to do that."

Derien aws, "But mama." His eyes well up with tears, "I really love this harp." Derien hugs the harp to his chest.

"That harp is falling apart Derien," Serriena says, "It won't last you a month and what will you do without your harp if it is broken? Am I to buy you a new one? With what marks?" Here goes another mom Lesson .. wisely spending marks. Ginta and now Derien have tested her patience.

Derien shakes his head, "It won't fall apart and if it does I will earn a new one I promise I will take really good care of this one."

R'hyn shuts up again, busily digging until he comes up with something else in the sand, and pops it into the bucket.

Serriena closes her eyes. "Derien, please don't argue with me. Just get your old harp back." She leaves the discussion at that, giving her final answer. She turns and asks R'hyn. "What was that you just put in there?" looking in the bucket.

Derien sniffles and begins to cry, "But mama. I really love this harp, I don't want to play on any other."

R'hyn glances at the bucket, and flushes. Again. "Oh, sorry!" He reaches in to pick it out - it's an old sock, and not exactly what one really wants inside there. Someone isn't paying attention. Derien's tears has the bronzerider freeze. Oh dear.

"Derien don't cry," Serriena sounds firm. "You're to get your own harp back and that's that." She glances at R'hyn and shakes her head and adding underbreath, "It's okay... I dig up weird things sometimes too." She sits down in the surf, letting it wash up over her. Her hands go down in the water, to the sides of her and she begins her own form of digging..

Derien pouts and wipes his tears, "Fine then I will never ever play the harp again. I won't need the harp I traded back."

Poor R'hyn. He looks so incredibly uncomfortable that it's all he can do to smile gamely at Serriena, and toss the sock away.

Oh but trust Serri to find someway to drag R'hyn into it. "R'hyn? You were a harper once..." she surmises, "Can you tell Derien why that instrument wouldn't be proper for him? And why he should get his brand new harp back from the apprentice?"

Derien loks at R'hyn and gives him the biggest eyes possible. "Please Lord Weyrleader, Tell her it's the love a harper has for his instrument that matters."

R'hyn scrunches up his face. Serri! "Uh..." He trails off. "It looks to me as if that instrument is a really good one. A bit of a waste, while you're still learning. I bet I could find you a nice little one, to use for now, so that if you practice really hard, you can use this one, which is an antique and really needs to be protected, and be really good at it."

R'hyn leans over to whisper, He mutters to Serriena, "... you... harp... if... chase out that apprentice...."

Serriena senses "R'hyn leans over to whisper, "I bet you can get his harp back, for not too much, if you chase out that apprentice. That way, everyone's happy.""

Serriena inclines her head to R'hyn and then nods. "I shall certainly do so." She looks back at Derien, "Alright you may keep that awful thing, but you will not play it, as R'hyn suggests. You will learn to play on a different harp until you can guarantee that you will not break the strings on that one."

Derien frowns, "But mama. The strings only break when I lie. If I always sing the truth I won't have to replace any strings."

R'hyn bursts into laughter at Derien's tale. "Did the apprentice tell you that, uh, Derien?"

Derien nods, "Yes, but it's been true so far. Like today I sung that Chelly was ugly and two strings broke because it was such a big lie. Or before that I sung that bronzers were the bravest dragonmen and only one string broke because it was a little lie."

"Oh now I will tear into this apprentice, spreading tales to you Derien," Serriena shakes her head. "What else did he say? Perhaps the harp will grow magic fingers and play itself?" She suddenly gasps and pulls her hand up. Her index finger is bleeding. "Ouch! Sharp shell." She sticks her finger in her mouth, shutting herself off.

R'hyn's gaze immediately turns towards Serriena, in concern. "Do you, uh, need a handkerchief or something? Let me see. It could be dirty, and get infected." Listening to Derien, the bronzerider's lips part. "I think you have a great imagination, Derien."

Derien shakes his head, "No. Watch." He clears his throat, "My momma is a tunnelsnake that rides a purple dragon." TWANG! A string breaks. "See!"

Serriena takes her finger from her mouth. She holds her hand out to R'hyn, a small cut on the tip. "I found a moll. If you want to get the shovel, it's right beneath me." Of course the sand is shifting with each movement of the waves, ensuring the creature will get away scott-free. Her mouth drops open and she looks at Derien laughing, "I hope I'm NOT a tunnelsnake!"

Derien smles, "Of course you are not, that's why it's a lie and the string broke." He sits down to start to repair the string.

R'hyn gets out his hankie - which is wet with salt water, but otherwise clean - to wrap about Serriena's finger tightly, squeezing it for a moment, until he lets go. "Let that one go, I think. There are others." He glances after Derien, his eyebrows raising slightly, though he shakes his head. "There is no such thing as a 'magic' harp."

Derien looks at R'hyn, "Well I have the first, from the first Master Harper himself." He smiles brightly.

"I think perhaps it is because the harp is old Derien," Serriena says. "The strings could snap at any time." She gives a glance at R'hyn and smiles. "Right?" She curls her hand around the hankie, letting the salt and water, combined with pressure, stop the bleeding.

R'hyn nods, firmly. "Right. And-- Derien? If I were you, I wouldn't go around telling everything that it was the first Masterharper's harp." He looks embarrassed to say this, but explains, "Some older harpers might think that they ought to keep it for themselves. Because it's valuable."

Derien shakes his head, "no it's not." He ohs at R'hyn and nods, "That's right. Someone might want it, but I won't let them have it ever." He hugs the restringed harp close.

Serriena grins at R'hyn finding a way for Derien to not embarrass himself by claiming to have the Masterharper's harp, to harpers who may laugh about it. "Yes, that's a good idea R'hyn," she agrees. She looks thoughtfully at Derien and then asks, "Derien would you like to hear something?"

Derien looks to his mother and hmms, "I am not giving up my harp and you can't make me. I just won't tell anyone that this is the master harper's harp."

R'hyn hazards a half smile at the child, and goes back to digging.

"That's not what I was going to tell you," Serriena rolls her eyes as if to ask 'why me?'. She glances at Derien and then says, "You're going to have a younger brother or sister in a few months."

Derien blinks, "What?" He looks at his mama and then at R'hyn and he know sorta what happens in mating flights, "you are?"

R'hyn flushes scarlet, and turns his head away. Never mind the fact that it's been more than half a turn since the last mating flight.

Serriena nods. "Mmhmm," she agrees with Deriena's question. "Not for at least six months yet, but you won't be the youngest for much longer." She smiles at Derien. "How would you feel about that?"

Derien smiles, "I am happy to have a younger brother or sister. Only one right? Not another three?" He hugs his mama.

R'hyn's relief is evident upon his expression at Derien's reaction, and he goes so far as to smile, even brightly. "Only one, I certainly hope!"

"I certainly hope so," Serriena reaches out to ruffle Derien's hair. "I don't think R'hyn could take it if there were three girls to go with my lil boys." She hugs Derien and gives a cheeky smile to R'hyn.

Derien hugs, "I wouldn't mind having three baby sisters. I will be a big brother to protect them."

"No, no, don't say that, Derien. You'll curse your mother, and we'll be overrun with them." says R'hyn, with a grin, one to match Serriena's own.

"Well I'd mind..." Serriena chucks Derien's chin. "I have plenty of children and all of them make me happy." She says, even if Derien has guessed, "R'hyn will be the father of the baby."

Derien ohs and loks over at R'hyn, "I don't have to call him father do I?"

R'hyn's answer is quick: "No, not at all! I'm just R'hyn, okay? Not your father, not your-- uh, step-father, or anything like that."

"No, you are to call him Weyrleader," Serriena addresses. And when R'hyn gives his name she says, "Are you sure R'hyn? They ought to respect your title." She looks over to him and back to Derien. "Best call him what he likes even if it's "hey you." She chuckles and then asks, "Where are your brothers Derien?"

Derien ohs and pouts a little, "Okay I will call him Weyrleader if he wants." SPeaking of father, "Have you heard from father lately?" He shrugs, "I am sure they are sleeping."

R'hyn says, quietly, "My name's fine. Or Weyrleader, if they must. I'm not fussy."

"Yes he's doing well," Serriena says to Derien. "J'nah and Myrdith have always had a scoundrel's way - better lucky than good they are," she teases. She nods to R'hyn, "As you wish it." She grins. "Though this lil girl or boy may be calling you Papa."

Derien nods and smiles, "Do you think he will come visit some time?"

R'hyn looks vaguely embarrassed at being called Papa, but smiles uneasily.

"Perhaps love, I don't know when he'll be coming back," Serriena looks unhappy about not knowing that for her son. "But don't worry." she kisses his forehead. "I'm sure it will be sometime soon." She glances at R'hyn and then asks, "Any more molls?"

Derien nods and smiles, "Okay. I miss him and Myrdith."

R'hyn shakes his head, admitting, "I can't see any."

"Ah we'll split this one between Arisvath and Niaryth then." Serriena stands out of the ocean, water trickling down her bare legs. She picks up the bucket and reaches for the shovel. "Shall we head back up the beach towards them?"

Derien smiles, "What are you doing?" He puts the harp into the case and slings it over his shoulder.

R'hyn reaches down to try and pull his breeches up - they're sopping, and it doesn't work very well. "Niaryth can have it. It's only little - too hard to split between the two of them," he comments, stepping away from the water.

Serriena walks up the beach and explains, "We were moll hunting Derien," she shows him the bucket and the tiny shelled creature inside. "If you break apart their shell, the meat is very good. Usually we cook them, steam them open, but Niaryth likes them raw." She glances at R'hyn. "I just told her what you said and she says Arisvath simply must be the one to eat it since he has never tried one."

Derien ohs, "Can I help?" He takes off his boots and rolls up his pants before putting the case on a high rock away from the surf.

R'hyn looks amused. "And Arisvath insists that Niaryth should have it, because he's not sure if he'll like them, and it might be wasted."

Serriena reminds R'hyn of his words, "It's only a little one.. not wasted a bit." She nods to Derien. "Yes you can. Go run up to Niaryth and fetch my knife from her." The gold lowers her head, so that the tiny sack tethered to her, can be accessed.

Derien smiles splashes in the water and gently pats the gold, "You think I should keep and play my harp right my lovely golden queen." He flashes a smile that will no doubt break hearts when he is older as he get the knife.

R'hyn glances down at the bucket, them smiles wryly. "That's true. Well-- if Niaryth doesn't mind, really."

Serriena shakes her head, "She doesn't mind." Niaryth leans down and whuffles at Derien, pleased with his attention. "You know she'd draw down the moon and stars from the sky if she thought it would make him smile." Serriena jokes.

Derien smiles at Niaryth and hugs her gently on the muzzle, "I love you Niaryth. I wish I could have a gold just like you."

R'hyn nearly chokes at Derien's comment, as he wanders back up the beach towards the dragons, smiling at Serriena. "Then he'll have to have it, won't he? We don't want him not smiling."

"Oh yes," Serriena laughs, "A huge gold for such a little one." Niaryth is enjoying Derien's change of heart, nudging him lightly with her muzzle. She glances at Arisvath and back down at the boy. Isn't he darling?

Derien smiles as he forgets about the knife and continues to hug and nuzzle Niaryth. He whispers to her and chuckles a little before he hugs her again.

Arisvath nudges his muzzle at Niaryth. Isn't /she/ darling! R'hyn grins, wryly, picking up Arisvath's straps, which are still on the beach. "I should get back."

"Someday Derien," Serriena calls to her son, although he didn't say anything to her. Niaryth obviously shared. "Maybe someday." She can't make promises. "Can you bring me the knife please? --oh do wait R'hyn. It will only take a moment to open this." She indicates the moll in her hand.

Derien sighs and gently kisses Niaryth's muzzle, "Bye Niaryth." He sloshes through the water to Serriena and holds the hilt out to her, "Here you go mama."

"Oh! I'd forgotten," says R'hyn, waiting, straps still in hand.

Serriena takes the knife. "Thank you." She quickly and cleanly cuts through the shell, exposing the tender flesh inside. She scrapes both sides until she has a thick chunk, big enough for one person, and rather snack size morsel for a dragon. She walks over to R'hyn and hands it out. "Give this to Arisvath and see if he likes it."

Niaryth nudges Arisvath, letting him know HE is the adorable one and she croons, urging him to try the treat!

R'hyn accepts the treat in one hand, juggling straps in order to give him a free hand with which to do so. He offers it up to Arisvath, who, after nudging Niaryth again, accepts it with an open maw. He chews. Swallows. Croons. R'hyn laughs. "He says it isn't bad, but Niaryth can have them from now on, because she obviously like them better."

Derien smiles, "You're welcome." He watches the work and waits for him to be giving something to do.

Serriena laughs. "I suppose so." She drops the shells in the tide, and lets them wash away. She bends down, rinsing both her knife and her hands. She wipes them on her shirt and then makes a face. "I'm all salty now." She glances at Derien, "Ready to go back to the weyr kiddo? I think we're done here."

R'hyn sidles back to Arisvath, who nudges Niaryth again, crooning warmly, as R'hyn gets ready to mount. "G'night, Serri. G'night, Derien."

Derien nods and goes to get his boots and harp case, "I suppose so Mama." He waves to R'hyn, "Night Weyrleader."

Niaryth nuzzles Arisvath, letting him know she will see him later that night. "Good night R'hyn," Serri smiles to the Weyrleader. "Sweet dreams." She turns to Derien. "Okay let's walk."

With a smooth motion, you grap a hold of Arisvath's straps, using their guiding length to scramble from forelimb to neckridges, at which point you settle, safe atop the bronze.

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