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Arrows of the Queen


Date:  February 27, 2005
Places:  High Reaches Weyr's Western Bowl; Lhiannonth's Ledge; 
Josilina's Weyr
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Wow, did this errand not go as Kassima expected. ;)  
With three green runners down and three to go, Our Heroine heads to 
High Reaches to offer one to Josilina and seek out Sria.  Her luck is
in at first, because she finds them together; but not long after, 
Matheny, the Weyrwoman of High Reaches, returns to her Weyr after 
being shot by a crossbow bolt.  Things get chaotic from there, and 
Kassi is present to witness a transfer of power that those involved 
can only hope is temporary.

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The Log:

You wing down to a quick landing on the ground.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Kassima, after dropping down from her lifemate's neck, spends some quality
time fishing around in Lysseth's strap-pouch while the green rumbles
cordial greetings to the local dragons. Eventually Kassi comes up with a
wildly-hued bundle. This would probably be a good place for the sound
effects guy to cue an ominous chord.

You go up to Josilina and Lhiannonth's ledge.

Lysseth> Sruth winks open one lidded eye to regard the Telgar visitors, and
rumbles a low, ever-dark greeting.

Josilina isn't outside as much as she's just standing in the entryway
between ledge and weyr, leaning against the stone frame. Lhiannonth thrums
a low, crooned greeting for any and all approaching, prompting Jos to open
her eyes and straighten up some.

Sria seems newly-arrived, as well, for she's greeting Lhiannonth as such:
"..Lhia. Your lifemate arou-?" But she's already turning to see, and catch
that straightening. "'Morning," she says, for all that it's not.

Kassima climbs the steps fairly quietly, not too quickly; the slightly
cautious step of a person approaching someone else's home, when that home
isn't terribly familiar. She's holding onto something wrapped in
recognizably wild cloth. "G'day, Lhiannonth," she greets first, seeing the
queen. Then, "Oh, and Sria! And Josilina! That's luck; spares me the
hunting you down--" What a way to greet people. The greenrider seems to
realize it, and backtracks to offer a wave to both and a, "Duties t'High
Reaches and her queens, too, a'course."

"Is it?" Jos, for one, seems ready to believe it if her sister says it is.
"I hadn't realized. How're you?" She straightens even further at the
approach of a second, less familiar step. "Duties to Telgar and her queens.
Hey there Kassima, this is a surprise." Her gaze lights on those
recognizable wrappings and her brow furrows slightly, "Were they no good?"

"Kassima," Sria returns the greeting, laughter in the tone. "I've actually
meant to track you down, so there's my luck as well. And duties to Telgar,
of course, and your Lysseth." A glance for the package in the greenrider's
hands, a discreetly lifted eyebrow for Josilina's query. She answers the
first, separately: "Just past morning, actually. Don't tell me my nephew is
truly sleeping."

"I should've had Lysseth call ahead, most likely," Kassima admits, reaching
the top step and ambling closer to the sisters. "'Twas a bit of a whim--I
found m'self with more time today than I expected, and figured, well, it
couldn't hurt t'just stop in and see if'n 'tweren't busy. Oh, nay, nay,
they're just fine." The bundle gets a pat. "That's actually why I'm
bringing this one back. Sort of." Well, that's helpful. Her turn to look
surprised, looking back to Sria: "Oh, i'truth? Then all works in our favor!
'Twas looking for you too, as well as Josilina--both on an errand for
M'rek, although separate errands. What can I do for you? Wait, wait,
nephew?" That 'click' would be the greenrider realizing what was slightly
out of place about Josilina's appearance. "Oh, Faranth, and me without any
flowers or gifts or aught. I hadn't heard. Felicitations, if that means
what I'm thinking it means."

"Past morning..." Josilina mutters in repeat, as if trying to orientate
herself with date and time. Then a grimace, "Truly and honestly. And
finally. That or he's just taken pity on me and is lying quiet. He was such
a nice, quiet baby in the infirmary, then we got home and just..." The
vague motions of her hands imply an explosion of some sort. Likely of the
vocal sort. "They're fine so you're bringing them back?" She blinks, "Does
he need more, then? Or..." She has no second scenario, so simply trails
off. The last prompts a grin and she flaps one hand, "Don't be silly, but
thank you. Was only a handful of days ago."

Sria nods, "Indeed. On my part, it's not so much a direct errand as it is
seeking assistance with one. Likely having to do with one of those,"
indicating the parcel, "If I'm guessing correctly." But then, what isn't do
to with those of late. She grins for the last, and for Josilina's,
"Finally," she drawls, "though from what I've heard, that's not exactly
unusual."

Kassima's grin is reminiscent and decidedly wry; the situation Josilina
describes may be a familiar one to her. "Babies have nay pity and nay
mercy. I'd bet on the sleeping. I'm bringing one back--for you, if'n you'll
have it. I remember that you said you'd like t'know more about what they're
for. Would you still know?" The bundle is waggled. The question is serious.
She does, however, add, "You can refuse it after I explain if'n you like.
Well, but! All the same. Next time 'twill find a more appropriate gift.
He's a little lad, then?" Ah, yes, the parcel. Her fingers fidget with the
cloth a moment and then give it a more hearty tug, unwrapping the green
runner enough that it might be seen. "Quite probably," she agrees with
Sria. "Mayhaps our errands overlap? He wanted me t'be asking you whether
you'd talked to... Brigid? Methinks 'twas Brigid? When I saw you next."

Josilina glances briefly inside the weyr before nodding. "Mm-hm. Named
Jorel." She deals with the quickest, simplest answers first. "Brigid?" Her
eyebrows arch, curious, at Sria before she nods. "Still curious, as it
happens. I'd love to hear, if you can tell." She gives the runner, or
what's shown of it, an inspecting look - placing it perhaps in a mental
catalogue. "D'you two want to come inside and sit or anything? I'm not at
my best... hostess status today, but I've still got chairs if you like." 

Sria presses her lips together and nods to Kassima, "Mmn. They overlap."
And she seems sorry for it. "I'm to hunt out this Brigid, at Bitra, and
find out what I can of the original," another nod to the figurine cast by
Josilina's hand. "But she proves to be an elusive quarry." To Jos, "If
we'll not wake him up."

Lysseth> In the sky directly above, Jenryth emerges from Between with a
blast of cold air!

Lysseth> In the sky directly above, Jenryth swoops down to a landing on the
ground.

Lysseth> Matheny climbs down Jenryth's side to the ground, as the dragon
rumbles softly.

Lysseth> M'rek clambers down Jenryth's side to the ground, using her
foreleg as a step.

Kassima repeats, thoughtful, "Jorel. D'you know, for a name without a K,
that isn't half bad?" Going by the grin and dancing eyes that immediately
follow this, she's teasing more than not. "I can be telling if'n 'twill
promise t'keep it discreet, whether you decide you want t'take it or nay.
But that probably doesn't need t'be said. Sitting would be welcome, if'n
'twouldn't stress your hospitality--" By which she too might mean 'wake the
baby up,' since the grin flashes again, wryly, at Sria's qualifier. The nod
she gives the brownrider is somewhat more serious. "I gather she's someone
who might know something about it, from what M'rek said. Aye." Drolly,
"Finding the original ought to be a fun challenge for him. How can I be of
assistance, then?"

Lysseth> Sruth rumbles low greeting to Jenryth, with the slightest lift of
tone as the gold's passengers come into view.

Lysseth> In the bowl, to the east, S'rist strides down the short flight of
steps from the weyrleader ledges.

Lysseth> In the bowl, to the east, S'rist does a rather good impression of
a sprint across from the ledge into the bowl, heading across the bowl
towards the western side at a bit of a dead run.

Lysseth> Matheny is rolling her eyes as she dismounts, "Just for that, I
think you should teach the weyrling's etiquette classes for here on out.
How to win friends, influence people, and still be considered trouble to
all." She can give almost as good as she gets, even as she's getting paler
while the bandage is soaked. Someone bespoke ahead for the healers are
waiting, and Math looks glad. Jenryth is edgy as she returns Sruth's
greeting, her eyes still touched red and she almost gets in the way of the
healers but there must be a verbal command to stop her for she withdraws
and emits a sorrowful creel.

Josilina casts another glance inside before straightening fully, pulling
away from the wall. "I think as long as neither of you are hiding a troupe
of Harpers behind your backs, it should be fine." She waves for them to
follow her inside, indicating the cluster of chairs once they're in. "Oh I
promise. I'm already keeping quiet about their existance in the first
place, so this shouldn't be much more beyond that." She passes by and
glances into a bassinet before taking a chair for herself.

Josilina moves inside to the inner weyr.

Lysseth> S'rist heads over from the eastern side of the bowl.

Lysseth> Lysseth has found a spot of Bowl for herself and settled
comfortably into it, apparently here for at least a short stay. Her own
greeting to Jenryth is polite, but the quieter rumble that follows it, more
a comment to self than anyone else, has a decidedly quizzical sound.

You push back the curtain to walk into the inner weyr.

Sria comes from inside out onto the ledge.

Lysseth> S'rist comes running across the bowl rather rapidly, reaching
where the healers are rushing to Matheny just a little bit behind them, but
his breath gone so all he can do is stand there and gasp for his breath and
look with disbelieving eyes at the blood soaked bandage on Matheny's shoulder.

"Originally, I was hoping for an extra pair of hands, as it were, as I
don't know the woman and bringing up something like a green runner figurine
seemed easier with another person to help set up the scenario. Now," Sria
says, "I wonder if you wouldn't mind just keeping an eye out for her. I've
asked around, but don't want her to hear I'm asking around, and it's not
turned up anything or anyone so far. She may know what was -in- the
original, as we're aiming to find out." She follows Josilina inside and
takes a glance toward the bassinet, but there's also a momentary skipped
beat as her hand finds the chair back, a briefly quizzical expression
before she finds the seat - and -then- her eyes unfocus once more, and she
pales, motions stilling.

Lysseth> M'rek is right there, not actually touching the Weyrwoman now, but
close enough that he would be if she so much as staggers. As the healers
take over, he moves back, withdrawing on many different levels at once back
into his 'place', whatever that may be. Dark eyes watch the Weyrleader and
then flicker to Jenryth as he can't help but feel an echo of her
displeasure. The bronzerider shakes a little and yet keeps quiet,
occasionally running a hand over his shaved head.

"Shards of the first Egg. You guessed what *else* is hidden in the bundle,"
Kassima deadpans, meandering in the goldrider's wake. She accepts one of
those indicated chairs with a grateful look, and sets the half-wrapped
runner in her lap. "That," she admits, "depends. If'n you want t'take this
runner there may be a bit more to it. Story first. D'you know Lady Vahara
of Bitra? Or had you heard about the attempts made recently t'kidnap her?
They aren't exactly common gossip in our sweep area, but friends of M'rek's
seem t'me t'often know odd things. You do have a point." That's to Sria,
with amusement. "You should've heard Vel when I told him. He couldn't get
over the oddity of a *green runner statue*. I'd nay mind at all, either
thing--I've never met the woman, as best I know, but one of these trips is
going t'take me t'Bitra. T'see Gerome, in fact. He seems likely t'know
something of her; I could ask him about it?" There might have followed some
comment or question about the original's comments, only Lysseth's sharing
what's going on outside, and her eyes flash back towards the exit with
decided surprise. "What the flaming shells--?"

Lysseth> Matheny laughs when she sees S'rist out of breath, "Haven't seen
you run that fast in at least ten turns, 'Rist." Some of her buoyancy has
been preserved by M'rek's shenanigans, but she's also naturally bent
towards brightness. "Does this mean I get double dessert? I'll tell you all
about it after I'm seen to." And the healers are already pulling her
towards the stretcher. "Really, I could walk. I didn't get shot in the
leg!" Even as she goes down obediantly.

Lysseth> S'rist catches his breath, his face regaining some color to see
that Matheny is still joking and seemingly not halfway to death, though the
amount of red he sees still makes him worry. "Take care of her..." He
admonishes the healers, a hint of his anger at the whole situation
trickling through in the tone. "You'll be alright Math, hang tough, like I
know you will..."

Josilina nods, then shakes her head at the mention of Vahara. "I know of
her, met her once I think, but I didn't know about kidnapping or anything."
There's a hint of a surpressed wince at the mention of Gerome's name but
nothing is said as - at the same moment that Sria does - she goes perfectly
still and pales, one hand clenching in her lap. "Great /shards/. Matheny."
And she's halfway out of her seat before she stays still again, as if
listening or watching something far away.

Lysseth> M'rek drops his hand to rest over his heart, fingers idly rubbing
over the place that arrow would have hit if not for the sudden interference
of chance and Weyrwoman who occasionally stumbles on perfectly smooth
floors. He remains uncharacteristically quiet and watches S'rist and
Matheny and the healers without, perhaps, really seeing anything.

Lysseth> Matheny meanders through the archway, into the lower caverns.

Sria stands almost as soon as she's sitting, and it's a shame, because this
story is such a good one. "Jos -" She'd have had gratitude for Kassima,
too, and probably a question or three, but they'll return to it later -
now, Sria's entirely wrapped up in Sruth. "I've got to see -" and that's
all in lieu of what's usually so polite, but she's gone, for at least that
moment.

Sria goes outside onto the ledge.

Lysseth> Sria comes down into the bowl from the steps of Josilina and
Lhiannonth's ledge.

Quite forgetting the conversation at hand, Kassima continues to look
towards the exit with that vague, unfocused look that suggests it's not her
own eyes she's currently looking through. "An *arrow*?" she mutters under
her breath, dismay mingling with confusion. "I don't--shells. D'you need
t'go too?" A gesture towards the exit, the Bowl, although where exactly
Josilina would go was probably obvious enough.

Lysseth> Sria was nearby, as it turns out, but she stills at the bottom of
the steps, as if only there to use her own eyes for a moment - to see
whatever remains of Healers and all else.

Lysseth> S'rist turns towards M'rek, anger and frustration unleashing in a
moment as the turns into a vicious roundhouse to the jaw. "How could you
get her into a situation like that!" He looks like he's about to unleash a
kick to the ribs but then holds it back. "Shells and shards!" He looks
around for something less fragile to take his anger out on, finally just
reaching down and yanking one of the paved stones left from Vorlin's
walkway project, wrenching it from the ground and tossing it with a heave
just out into the bowl a good dozen feet where it breaks into several chunks.

Josilina hesitates longer than Sria did, looking anxiously from bassinet to
the doorway before she gives in. "I have to too. Shardit. Lhia! Tell me if
he wakes up! - Sorry Kassima." She spares a moment to apologize to the
Telgari before rushing towards the ledge and bowl beyond.

Josilina goes outside onto the ledge.

Lysseth> Josilina comes down into the bowl from the steps of Josilina and
Lhiannonth's ledge.

You move from the shelter of the weyr out onto the ledge.

You go down the steps, to the bowl.

Josilina emerges not far behind Sria, coming to a hurried stop on the steps
behind the Weyrsecond, wincing as she catches the tail end of the paving
stone's flight. "Shards, shards, shards." She chants under her breath,
staying on the stairs and observing for the moment.

Kassima is third of those to arrive from Lhiannonth's ledge, not quite so
fast as those who've gone before her and stopping several steps further
up--perhaps for the better vantage point; perhaps more because she's a
visitor here, after all, and hanging back seems more the appropriate thing.

It's more than that M'rek wasn't expecting to get hit. Or that the
Weyrleader was a trained guard at one time. Or that feeling of guilt over
the Weyrwoman being hit with an arrow that seemed to have his name all over
it. There's also that tremendous relief of having lived to fight another
day. And the joy of a well placed sucker punch. One that was well earned,
it could be said. M'rek is hit with such sudden force that his head rocks
back to the side and he staggers, finally going down on one knee, hands
ready then to fend off anymore blows without mounting a counter attack. The
younger bronzerider doesn't say anything, just watchs S'rist with wary eyes
and then pulls out his flask and tosses it towards S'rist.

Sria is certainly in time to see that swing, if not do anything else about
it, but it brings her away from the ledge steps just like that. "Faranth,"
is all she manages, still quietly pale. She glances over Jenryth,
assessingly, before keeping clear of tossed stones and flasks on her way to
M'rek. No words, she watches her Weyrleader. "They might let you in to see
her," she says, presumably to Josilina though it could be difficult to tell.

S'rist catches the flask, takes one long look at it, then opens it up for a
long swig. He gives a long sigh, the rage leaving him, but not the anger in
his eyes. He pulls his belt knife out, sheath and all and tosses it back
towards M'rek, "Do what you do best." Then he takes another swig from the
flask, stoppers it and tosses it back as well, his eyes heading towards the
caverns and the infirmary now.

<Bitra> M'rek sings, "Then there'll be so much misery, we can't go on this
way."

<Bitra> Cailin wooos! ;)

Josilina hangs back as long as the brownrider in front of her does - even a
few beats longer, and when she does start forward her tread is hesitent,
cautious. She seems unsure if Sria is talking to her or not, so there's a
moment of no response before she shakes her head. "Maybe. But I doubt it's
the best time." She watches both bronzeriders, eyes widening as the knife
is thrown down. "Don't." She says it before she can stop herself, and her
lips clamp shut on anything further.

In the sky directly above, Verenth backwings to a neat landing on the ground.

Melata clambers down Verenth's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a
greeting.

Kassima edges down the steps one at a time. She has to, since she's
certainly not looking at where her feet are going--like the others, she's
watching the bronzeriders below. "For use on whoever shot her?" is her
murmured query of the knife. Not really to Josilina, Sria, or anyone else,
but to herself.

Sria makes a one-handed grab for S'rist's knife - and not the flask -
though the drop to her knees beside M'rek holds less grace than it might
otherwise. "Second best," she murmurs, whether she's able to pocket it or
not, "And it's not as though you don't have others." Now she's aiming to
assess the effects of that guard-trained hit. "You'll need to be in there
at some point," she says over her shoulder to Josilina, and spares another
look at S'rist now, too.

S'rist glances back for a moment, but he doesn't seem phased at the
comments or that his knife was intercepted. Instead he just heads into the
caverns, his thoughts already leaving what's just transpired to other
matters that make him once again draw pale in the face.

S'rist strides through the archway, into the lower caverns.

M'rek watches the Weyrleader drink, his eyes now betraying the extra
alertness that the sudden slam of adrenaline has roused in him. Something
even more hyperaware seems to stir in him for the words that follow the
tossing of that knife and even thoug there's no other change to bald
rider's features, there's something more chilling about M'rek. Those
particular words have such a history for this man, and the Weyrleader well
knows it from hundreds of meticulous reports. Hands move to loose fists,
and M'rek stays down on one knee like a knight swearing fealty, head half
lowered but eyes raised to then take in all of others and the various
comments spoken. It's Sria's that makes him laugh that wanton kind of way.
"Maybe even third, aye?"

Josilina watches as S'rist goes inside, not answering Sria until the
Weyrleader is out of sight. "He needs to be in there first. And she needs
to be fixed up and everything." She comes nearer now, watching Sria and
M'rek for a moment before the question bursts forth, "What in shards
happened M'rek? Why..." she gestures vaguely towards the infirmary, letting
the situation speak for itself. "You're not hurt too, are you?"

Melata blissfully unaware of the world or what is happening in it, Melata
heads into the living cavern. Likely she was never here, nope, since if she
didn't have appeared half-way she might have had something to say or
contribute. Maybe. Probably not.

Melata meanders into the tunnel to the living cavern.

Kassima finally leaves the staircase and stands on firm ground. Although
she watches S'rist depart, once he's gone, her eyes return to M'rek and
Sria--and there's an unsettledness in them that befits her situation as one
who's witnessing something important, something that *means* something, and
knows as much even if she doesn't realize why. "I've a bit of numbweed on
me," she offers once Josilina's asked the most pressing question. "For the
children's scrapes and such, if'n 'twould be of use after that." The punch,
ostensibly.

"Aye," Sria echoes, adopting that drawl, "I like to think I'm one of not
-so- many who knows what you're really best at, and if our dear Weyrleader
knows it, I'd be interested to hear -that- tale, M'rek." That as she makes
quick survey of his face, and more, and she remains pale for all the time
and hurry and deliberate wording. A quick nod for Josilina's first, and
then a gracious look to Kassima: "I've some on Sruth, but if you've it
right here -"

M'rek gingerly touches fingers over his jaw, it's not showing more than red
right now but it's likely to bloom beautifully before another day goes by.
He holds out a hand towards Kassima, "That. Would be just the thing, I
think." Then he rocks back to his heel and stands before offering Sria his
other hand, "We were in the Sandbar and Matheny got shot by an arrow. Well.
Technically, crossbow bolt. If she weren't so small, it wouldn't have gone
all the way through. Flesh and muscle wound looked like, it's going to ache
for turns, I'd wager. The healers will have to see if it's any worse than
that, and I wouldn't want to speculate too much." Then he laughs, darkly
and slants his eyes at the Brownrider, "Now that. That would certainly be a
tale, wouldn't it?" and, "No. Not so many." The flask is fished from the
floor of the bowl then, "I picked the wrong sharding time to quit drinking.
Mostly."

Jenryth prowls near the entrance to the living caverns, creeling from time
to time and then finally she settles down, eyes half lidding and shifting
into orange without cooling off any farther.

"A crossbow bolt." Josilina echoes, tone caught between 'bewildered' and
'flat'. "Turns?" The second echo is more on the 'horrified' side and she
throws a glance at the lower caverns. And it's at this point she seems lost
in her own thoughts, lower lip caught between her lip as she looks about,
gaze wandering from Jenryth to M'rek to that thrown paving stone.

Verenth bobs his head at Jenryth.

Kassima digs around in one of her belt pouches until she comes up with a
small jar, from which she dusts a few stray crumbs of meatroll. "Mayhaps
S'rist saw it on the Lava Lounge wall. About half left," she reports to
Sria after unstoppering it for a quick peek inside, and she hands it over
to M'rek, with perhaps a quick squeeze of his fingers as she does. Not that
what's troubling him is the sort of thing finger-squeezes can do much to
comfort, but hey. "If'n 'twere Ista," she says more quietly, "I'd spend
some time investigating this Sandbar of theirs. Darts. Bolts. At least
'twasn't worse." Which, true or not, sounds inane, and by her expression
she realizes it. "Would Ulfianth blame you for a drop or two just now?" She
strays a glance towards the prowling queen, chewing her lower lip rather
pensively.

In the sky directly above, Riordanth flies down to land gently on the ground.

Riordanth swoops down and lands a ways away from the main group, but he
bugles a bright hello while Mohria and Crispin slide down from his back.
Giving a wave to everyone, Mohria takes a moment to adjust Crispin's shirt,
much to the lad's chagrin.

Mohria climbs down Riordanth's side to the ground, the dragon's sparkling
eyes watching closely.

Sria sucks in her breath - 'all the way through' - and could, in another
time, laugh for M'rek's offered hand even as she takes it, holding it as
she straightens. "Whose crossbow bolt?" But the last gives her pause, as
she glances from flask to bronzerider and then to the numbweed pot - and
finally to Josilina, and Jenryth's settling.

Sruth shifts his own gaze to greet Riordanth and company, his rumble
decidedly darker, even for him.

Melata walks out of the living cavern.

M'rek looks thoughtful, "I should go back and get that bolt. I should get
back anyway. Lots to do." So it would certainly seem. He accepts the
numbweed from Kassim and dips his fingers into it so that he can smear it
over his jaw. "Maybe I shouldn't have told her to break up with S'rist." He
grins, unrepentent. "I had to say something though. Something distracting.
Though, I got the feeling he wasn't upset about that part yet." As if
that's still coming down the line. He laughs at what Kassima says, "As if
you can believe everything you read there. Not that I'm arguing." He trades
the numbweed for the flask and takes a swallow, making a face for it.
"Shards. I'm not used to tasting anything." The bronzrider also looks over
to the aggitated queen. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." Then, "I
didn't see who did it. When Jenryth's calmed down, someone should ask her
what she saw."

Riordanth crouches low to the ground, remembering the situation and feeling
bad for his jubilant greeting. He creels softly towards Jenryth, eyes
pained. Tail tucked close, he gently wuffles his rider. Mohria finishes
straightening Crispin's shirt and says a few soft words to him before she
takes his hand and moves towards the group, slowly, not wantint to
interrupt. The little boy looks around at all the dragons, his blue eyes wide.

Josilina plays the part of silent observer for now. By the sharpness of her
glance she's listening to any questions and answers but for the most part
she stands off to the side, still glancing around or staring thoughtfully
at a clod of dirt.

Lysseth rumbles, though it's not quite--or at least not entirely--greeting
and rather on the perfunctory side. She's watching the entire spectacle as
intently as one could wish. "Goodness, you *think*?" she drawls to M'rek.
"Shells. Can't wait t'see what he'll do t'you when he hears about that,
then. You'll need a ride back?" She glances to Sria, perhaps figuring her
the other likely candidate for taxi duty. "Lyss didn't catch who blew the
dart. But that doesn't mean aught. This," with a gesture to encompass,
vaguely, the whole situation, "doesn't really make much sense, y'know."
Eyes flick to Josilina, and she wonders with a touch of concern, "Are you
all right?"

[Editor's Note:  At this point, some of us decided lyrics
from 'Assassins' would make appropriate @doings. ;) ]


Player Name        On For Idle  Doing
Josilina            01:48   1m  EvenThoughAtTimesTheyGoToExtremes...
Kassima             01:48   0s  Everybody's Got the Right To Be Happy...
Sria                03:03   3m  EveryNow&ThenAMadman'sBoundToComeAlong
30 Players logged in.


"Do you have a ride?" says Sria, almost on top of Kassima's same query,
which prompts a small smile. "Distracting. 'Yet,' well, it will come," she
assures, with another decent attempt at a smile. She nods for the next,
turns toward the senior gold, "Before she forgets, not that I'm sorry she
will-" and then she notices Mohria and Crispin, who get a nod. "It
doesn't," comes her agreement, as if just now she's thinking of what sense
it -might- have made, before glancing briefly to Jos.

Kassima's question seems to bring Josilina back into her surroundings and,
after a blink, she nods. "I'm fine. Just, you know, trying to figure out
what'll happen from here a little..." She shakes her head as if to clear
it, interjecting while following Sria's look towards Jenryth. "I can have
Lhiannonth talk to her, if needed, once she's more settled. Though... I'll
bet S'rist'll have already gone through all that, really."

Mohria speaks up quietly, lifting a hand, "We can give rides too," she
offers, uncertain as to what is needed but willing to help with whatever is
required. She returns Sria's nod. Riordanth rumbles his agreement to that.
Yes, rides. He can do rides. He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear
it and get a clear focus on the situation. The tiny blue croons softly to
Lysseth, and then looks back at his rider. Crispin leaves his mother's side
to go climb onto Riordanth's foreleg, getting away from the larger group
for the moment.

Verenth glances sideways at his rider, then over to Riordanth.

M'rek looks to the newest arrivals to the scene and waves their way,
briefly, before looking between Kassima and Sria, the coldness in his smile
easing a bit, how could it not? "I don't have a ride. Came in on Jenryth. I
guess we could have stayed at Ista but I thought it made sense to get her
back here as quickly as possible. Does that even make any sense?" Second
guessing himself. "Should I have just gotten the Istan healers?" He looks
from face to face, searching the eyes of everyone present for the answer,
after all, they're all more experienced riders than he is. "Glad this
wasn't a dart if it was meant to be fatal." Then he looks to Josilina, "Do
I have your permission to look into it?" And he's making a presumption,
knows it, and does it anyway before, "Thanks Kassi, but. Sria, would you?
Seems very. I don't know. You're the Weyrsecond." As if he's going to keep
in his place like a good boy.

M'rek grins at Mohria as he catches her words, "Thanks Moh. I appreciate it."

S'rist strolls out of the lower caverns.

Kassima rubs at the back of her neck, looking now towards the direction the
Weyrleader went. "Things ought t'be eventful for awhile, anyway," she
supposes, wry. "--Oh, g'deve." This is to Mohria, and sheepish. Probably
because of the belatedness. "It makes sense enough, M'rek. Getting the
Istan Healers would've been an answer too, presumably, but if'n 'twere me I
might've brought her home too. Mayhaps less fuss between the Weyrs that
way, for one." She drops out of professional mode to nod simple agreement
on the question of the dart. Then, to nod agreement to his choice of ride.

S'rist strides out of the lower caverns, face no longer pale, but his jaw
is set and rather grim clench. He stops a bit out into the bowl and looks
around for a long moment, then when his eyes stop upon Josilina he starts
to walk over in her direction with a bit of a purpose.

Sria pauses on that 'if', with a word like 'fatal' attached to it.
"Betweening with an injury, but safety once you get there - it's a trade
off. But S'rist is here, Healers who know her are here, and I imagine Math
wanted it this way to boot. I'd have done the s-" though she breaks off as
S'rist reappears where she's looking, and then to say, "Of course," to
M'rek's question, quite as if he needn't have asked it, and she echoes the
bronzerider's thanks to the others in expression alone.

Mohria nods at M'rek, "You're welcome," falling silent again, her eyes
shifting from face to face before she offers an encouraging smile to
Josilina. She nods to Kassima, "Hello," and she's quiet again. Watching.
Waiting to see if she's needed.

"It was probably better to get her back here." Josilina puts in. "Just...
easier, all around I'd think. Having her at her own Weyr." Her lips thin,
either at the question itself or the presumption, it's difficult to tell.
"Just don't hurt anyone M'rek. But go ahead." She hesitates over that third
word as if it was almost something else. "At least, for now, you'll
probably want to talk to the Weyrleaders about it more after..." Their
mention prompts another glance towards the lower caverns, during which she
catches sight of S'rist and turns to walk and meet him partway. "She'll be
alright, won't she?"

Melata raises an eyebrow at Mohria in some sort of silent communication.

S'rist meets up with Josilina and stops, "Well, the healers have the
bleeding stopped... they say she's not in danger of bleeding to death now."
He takes a breath and lets it out, sharing that part of the news helping to
take a bit of the edge off his own emotional state. But then he continues,
"The wound is pretty bad, she's going to need to take complete rest for at
least a month, maybe longer... and then we'll get to see if she gets the
feeling back in that arm."

"Nay t'mention," Kassi asides to Sria, under her breath, "fewer nuts with
crossbows are here." Always an important point. There's a twist to the
corner of her mouth when Josilina gives her injunction, but no comment; no
further comment immediately on any front, beyond a silent nod of greeting
to the Weyrleader. She drops silent to watch and listen.

Mohria lets out a sigh of relief at S'rist's news, a flicker of a smile
returning to her lips. It's still serious of course, but not as bad as it
could have been. She glances at Melata and raises an eyebrow back, a near
mirror-image of her Wingleader.

Josilina takes a deep, slow breath at the news, letting it out not quite as
slowly. "Shards. Well that's... that's good." Not quite the most adequeate
of responses and, knowing it, she continues on with a nod. "A month...
Well, I can take most of her work until she's better, you know that. I
mean, we can all handle the work dispersal fine. It's just important she
heals up okay and everything."

Sria listens, as well, and nervous energy causes one hand to press at the
wrist of her other. "Aye," for Kassima's aside, just as low. "That as
well." But she doesn't say anything else, watching S'rist and Josilina.

S'rist nods and tries to smile, fails, tries again, manages a little bit of
one. "Well, the most might have to be all for now. If her arm doesn't heal
up so she has feeling in it, well, she won't be fit to resume the position
of senior." He considers a moment, "So for now, you'll be acting senior,
but you might want to consider that it may not be for just a month..." The
healers must have really put a scare into him if he's already trying to
brace Josilina like this.

Mohria's brows lift slightly and she nods a little bit. Probably for the
best. From Riordanth, Crispin quietly calls to his mother and she leaves
the group to go to him. His voice drifts across the bowl, "Can I make a get
well picture for Matheny?" he asks in a loud whisper. Mohria chuckles
softly and nods, "Yes, I think she'd like that. Why don't we go work on
that now?" Taking his hand she helps him off of Riordanth and leads him
towards the lake shore. Riordanth croons softly and then follows his rider.

Melata blinks as she hears the promotion. It might not be the happiest of
promotions, but not unexpected given the actions of the day.

Mohria walks towards the eastern side of the bowl.

Kassima folds her arms across her chest. Not as nervous, or at least not
for the same reasons, as the 'Reachians, of course. But it's a tense
situation; she's not immune to that, nor to concern. Her mouth pulls into
something half wince and half grimace for Josilina's sake--she opens it as
if to say something, but, thinking better of it, closes it again with a click.

Riordanth waddles towards the eastern side of the bowl.

<Bitra> Kassima rummages in her music directory for songs. Ends up with
'You Give Love a Bad Name.' Snerk. Shot through the heart, and you're to
blame.... ;)

<Bitra> Cailin was thinking Creed's 'One' was quite appropriate earlier :)

Josilina seems to take a moment to absorb this, even if it's clear that
it's not entirely unexpected, all things considered. "Acting. I can do
that." She nods, slow at the last. "We'll take it one month at time then.
And see how it goes. And, well, shards." She runs her lower lip through her
teeth, grimacing. "I'm really sorry S'rist. I mean, I know it doesn't - but
I am. And give her my best, I'll hold off on seeing her until the Healers
say she's up for it and all."

Sria's attention is pulled from promotions to pictures upon Crispin's
would-be whisper, and she glances toward the stairs before letting her gaze
take in the other audience members, the set expressions, her own much the
same as she looks back to Josilina.

<Bitra> Sria chuckles. And now it's stuck in my head. Thanks, Kassi. ;)

<Bitra> Kassima lives to serve. ;)

S'rist smiles just a bit, perhaps for Josilina's nerve's sake. He reaches
out and gives one of her shoulders a squeeze with the hand that just
recently floored a nearby bronzerider. "Thank you Josilina, I really
appreciate you stepping up to the challenge so readily. If you need
anything the next day or two, could I ask you to call on Sria? I want to be
with her till the healers are sure she's going to be okay." He cuts his
eyes over towards his second, knowing that a lot of work might suddenly be
tossed in her lap, but he's not in the state of mind to do much anything
but worry about his weyrmate right now. The danger of thread was always one
thing, but someone else hurting her... that was nothing he was prepared for.

"I'm sure you're quite capable of it," Kassima quietly offers to Josilina;
all she can think to say at the moment, most likely.

M'rek keeps his head lowered a little bit thoughtfully as he listens, eyes
darting between the different speakers. His hands are closed into fists at
his sides, thumbs rubbing abently over the knuckles of his pointer fingers.
The former messengers keeps quiet yet again today and absorbs it all, not
looking too surprised.

Josilina can manage a small smile if the Weyrleader can, and does. "Who's
ever ready for something like this? But we'll manage." She nods, glancing
over at Sria and nods a second time. "Of course. You should stay with her.
Sri doesn't mind more work, do you?" She pitches her voice to easier reach
the Weyrsecond's ears. "Go be with her if you need, though - they were
saying, someone should ask Jenryth what she saw. I can have Lhiannonth, if
you'd rather not go through it all through Dzurath..." - "Thanks Kassima."
She adds with a glance for the greenrider.

Sria doesn't seem about to object to any extra work; she lifts a shoulder
halfway, an understanding nod of her head to S'rist, and a decently
successful smile for Josilina. "Do I ever?" Of -course- not. "Whenever
you're ready," is pitched lower for M'rek, after a glance at Sruth.

S'rist considers for a moment then nods, "That might actually be better.
Dzurath is going to have his hands full just keeping Jenryth somewhat calm
through all of this I suspect. Might be better if he doesn't bring up
things that just upset her. Thank you Josi. And thank you Sria, I'll try to
be back on my feet again as soon as Math is better..." And with that he
glances back towards the infirmary, "Yes, thank you both... I'll let you
all know how she's doing."

Melata nods.

Kassima unfolds one arm long enough to give the Weyrleader a silent,
markedly respectful salute. She darts a look between the sisters, at M'rek,
all about the Bowl--towards Lysseth at the end, some wordless communication
passing between the two.

M'rek nods to Sria, "I'm ready." There's a glance between Josilina and
S'rist, but M'rek only says, "Let me know if there's anything else I can
do." He moves then, towards the brown, pausing to speak to Kassima more
quietly, "Come by tomorrow maybe? Or whenever you can?" And he waves to
Melata and then is ready to depart. "Well. This certainly won't make my
reputation any worse, right?" A side comment to Sria.

Josilina's smile becomes a little easier at Sria's response and she nods to
S'rist. "I'll have her, then. Tomorrow, maybe, when she's had a little more
time to settle but hasn't forgotten. Don't worry about it." - "Have a good
flight back." She calls over to M'rek and Sria, even as she grimaces
faintly at her own words. "I'll see you later Sria? Or... tomorrow or
something."

Melata hears that side comment to Sria and wrinkles her nose as she waves
to M'rek.

S'rist turns and heads back towards the infirmary, part of his own self
discipline kicking in to send him that way via the living caverns, so that
he at least grabs a meat pie to eat as his dinner and keep his strength up.
The last thing anyone needs is someone getting sick from worry and lack of
eating.

S'rist strides through the archway, into the lower caverns.

Sria nods to S'rist, "Of course, S'rist," and she moves toward Sruth as
well, the brown already shifting for the riders. "Could anything?" is her
reply to M'rek, noting Melata's reaction and twisting deliberately wry.
"Later," she then tells Josilina, before mounting up.

Kassima nods at once to M'rek. "A'course," she answers, just as quiet.
"'Twould have soon anyway, t'give report--we'll be there." She gives a low
snort in answer to the aside; there's a little humor in it, if a distinctly
dry sort.

Sria climbs up onto Sruth's back, using his foreleg as a step.

M'rek hops up onto Sruth's back, using his foreleg as a step.

Sruth straightens, rumbles a departing note, and just two long strides
separate him from the group before he takes flight, Sria with one more
glance after S'rist and the rest.

In the sky directly above, Sruth leaps into the sky from the ground below.

Josilina nods for Sria's 'later', lifting a hand to the departing pair
before smoothing her hands over her skirt, looking beyond distracted. "I
should..." but of all the ways that murmur could end she chooses none,
trailing off. "Sorry you had to end up in the middle of... this... sort
of." She says to Kassima, wandering gaze catching on the woman. "I somehow
doubt it's what you came here to deal with."

"Apologies are scarcely due me," Kassima assures on a sigh, shaking her
head almost vehemently. "'Tisn't, a'course, but I'm nay one of the ones
who's ended up with something t'deal with. I'm the one sorry, for High
Reaches' sake; hers, M'rek's, yours. If'n there's aught I can do... or, I
can't speak for Telgar, but I'd wager they'd be willing t'lend aid if'n
there were any they could."

Josilina nods before shaking her head a bare moment later. "We'll be fine,
I'm sure. Mostly it's just a question of Math getting better and who...
well, you know. But thank you. It's appreciated." She again smoothes her
hands against the top of her skirt - at least she's not wringing them or
anything. "Well. I guess I should... I mean the baby's..." she breaks off,
tilting her head as if to listen. "Still asleep, actually. But -I- need to
sit. Did you get your runner?"

Kassima nods acknowledgment of this. "I hope that she does," she says,
honestly. "I mean, it sounds as if'n she will--somewhat--but. Y'know what I
mean, I'm thinking." A glance is cast back towards Lhiannonth's ledge. "I
left it on m'chair in there... would it be better for me t'come back
another time t'tell you about it? I could either take it back with me for
now, or leave it with you, so long as you kept it hidden in the meanwhile.
I have time enough, but--" She breaks off and spreads her hands apart in an
unhelpful gesture. "Don't want t'be taking up time you need."

Melata eyes Jos, the new (temporary?) Senior goldrider. "Josilina. If you
need any help - well, not with kids - but otherwise, if you need any help,
you only need to ask. And if it is with kids, I'll make sure one of my
Wingriders does it."

"I think..." Josilina worries at her lower lip before shaking her head.
"D'you think we could meet again about it Kassima? I can keep it hidden for
you. And that way you can talk to both me and Sria at once again. I think I
ought to be sorting some things out." Melata's on the receiving end of a
grateful look and even faint amusement. "Thanks Melata. I'll see how things
sort out, but I might take you up on it. Though I might trouble the nannies
with the baby before your poor Wingriders."

Kassima bobs her head to Josilina. "A'course we can. I probably should talk
with Sria too, aye; we didn't have long t'discuss that errand of hers
a'fore--" It's not a sentence that needs to be finished. "'Twill come again
another time. Or if'n 'twould do you and her well t'get out of the weyr for
awhile, you can come and see me at Telgar if'n you'd like to." She has to
grin a bit then. "Ach, but seeing how the Wingriders deal with a baby might
be, at the least, entertaining?"

Melata snorts, "They need the exercise."

Melata waves her hands, "Changing nappies and all that. It builds
character, for those without children. And for Wingleaders without
children, well, that's what deligation is for."

Josilina nods her agreement, "We'll work something out." - "I've got to
say, Jorel's not much for exercise yet. But when he's hit two Turns, maybe
I'll appeal to whatever Wingriders you've got available." She now starts
for the stairs to her ledge, "I'm sure I'll see you both around. I'm off
to... sit." That seems to be the simplest course of action and she waves to
the two Wingleaders.

Josilina goes up the steps to Josilina and Lhiannonth's ledge.

Melata watches the Josilina head up to her ledge and shakes her head.
Promotion should never come after tradegy, although it happens too often in
that way. She looks once at Kassima, nods her head, and then heads into the
living cavern.

Melata strolls into the tunnel to the living cavern.

"If'n he were much for exercise at a few days old, I for one would be
worried," Kassima quips in the goldrider's wake. "Good luck--Faranth. I
should get back t'Telgar, likely... it's been an eventful afternoon. Good
t'see you again," she adds to Melata, then turns to climb up onto Lysseth
and away.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly.
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered
foreleg.

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up
dust as she takes to the skies.

You launch into the sky.