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Celebrate Good Times, Come On!


Date:  March 17, 2008
Place:  Igen Weyr Living Cavern
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:  Finally the day Sria, Kassima, and certainly the 
Weyrlings have been anticipating for months has come, and the class
is ready to graduate.  Igen has several gifts and honors in mind for
its newest riders.  I suspect they prefer the Weyrleaders' gift to the
Weyrlingmaster team's, but there's no accounting for taste. ;)  Thank
you, Sria, W'adru, and R'yki for making my time as Assistant 
Weyrlingmaster such a pleasure--I've really enjoyed the RP and the 
talks with all of you. :)

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The Log:

IGEN-> Kassima says, "Just about that time, y'all.... ;) Weyrling
graduation tonight! Flock to the LC. Get drunk. It's all in the name of
*tradition*. ;)"

You amble out into the Weyr's Living Caverns.


Lanisa:
	As individual as ever in her early thirties, Lanisa's fair skin and 
pert features are framed by the fine, windblown curls of strawberry blonde 
which brush against her shoulders when left free. Beneath those curls and 
the slight arc of her pale brows are innocent-looking blue eyes, circled 
with turquoise and lined by her long lashes, a slightly upturned little 
nose resting between them. Her mouth leans towards generous and full, but 
not overly so in either case.

	Just now her curls have been pulled up in a manner that allows them 
to drop in an artfully tousled style that frames her face. A simple linen
gown, in medium blue, accents the gentle curves of her lanky five foot
seven frame; darted to follow her form and falling just past her knees. The
neckline is scooped, but not so low as to be overly revealing, and twin
spaghetti straps lay over her shoulders and then cross in the back; they
being the only things to cover the open expanse above her shoulder blades.
On her feet are a simple pair of matching slippers, to round out the outfit.


A'zric:
	You see a man in probably his mid fifties, although his mannerisms 
seem older than that. He stands six feet at a guess, build broadly and 
quite heavily muscled. His brown eyes are so pale as to look golden in some
light, usually quietly watching the goings on around him, with a demeanor
of calm and patience. A jagged scar traces his jawline and down his neck on
the right side, disappearing into his shirt collar, obviously a
threadscore. His dark brown hair has been lightened by the Igen sun to a
sandy brown colour plaited into a somewhat irregular braid, tied with a
leather strip, reaching below his shoulder blades.
	He's currently dressed in what looks to be well loved and broken in
clothes, a pair of trousers in faded black, well fitted to his solid form
over scuffed and worn boots. His shirt is of a thin cool fabric, loose and
comfortable in a shade of neutral flax. From his belt hangs a well made
carving knife and a knobbly belt pouch, no doubt full of all kinds of odds
and ends. He wears a knot of black and yellow, a bronze thread indicating
the colour his lifemate, the twists and loops of the knot indicating his
rank as a rider at Igen Weyr. On his sleeve is a dragonhealing badge,
showing him to be a capable dragonhealer and another badge showing him to
be a rider in the Oasis wing.


The servers have started to change over the room in that process they have
mastered over the turns. Clothes for the tables as each is cleared and
wiped down. New serving sets placed out and the meal table getting a full
transformation to ready for the serving of fancier fare.

IGEN-> Kassima adds more seriously that Sria's going to be a bit late, for
those who don't know--RL foo--so for now we're gathering for general party
RP. :)

Elianne "m'pa and m'brothers work on the docks, m'ma in the kitchens - it's
alright. Just different I think; no dragons, for starters! We don't live
exactly /in/ the hold, y'know." One of the servers going by gives Elisanne
a nudge. Elisanne sighs and rolls her eyes, "I think Redrianne is going to
be hunting me down any minute, I /ought/ to go. Are you back to Ista
tonight? You're the first to really talk to me, so, thanks." She stands up
and scans the room in searching manner.

Kassima fiddles with a last pin, not quite satisfied with her coiffure,
such as it is; could the Assistant Weyrlingmaster be nervous on graduation
night? Nahhhh. "I hope there's something with fish," she quips to no one in
particular, eyes catching on those servers and their task. "G'deve, all and
sundry."


Kassima:
	Kassima is a woman gifted magnanimously by genetics: one would likely
guess her to be younger than is true thanks in part to high cheekbones and
a brow lines have not touched, and metabolism and height have both dealt a
good hand in her slender 5'10" build. Her fine-boned features make a fair
setting for canted eyes the color of emeralds in shadow; a shrewd glint
lightens these even when amusement does not, and the well-shaped brows
above lend eloquence through their mobility.
	Tonight she's dressed with festive flair, in an outfit that possesses 
just a touch of spice. Vivid red velvet hugs her upper body, its color deep 
and rich against the lightly tanned skin bared by the scooped neckline and 
lack of sleeves; more of the same slides down to the floor in a narrow skirt
slit brazenly as far as each thigh. Her modesty is preserved, however, by
the large ruffles of ink-dark sisal that trim each side of the slashes and
guard the long legs beneath from casual view. Sable slippers similarly
protect her feet.
	Kassi's chosen to leave her blue-black hair mostly unfettered. Nearly 
all of it falls freely down to her calves--the exception is a slim braid 
which winds around her head rather like a coronet. This has been studded 
with pins tipped by rubies; they sparkle against the darkness at regular
intervals. More small rubies dangle from her ears in delicate gold-set
showers and flash from the bangles on each wrist, but there's nothing small
about the faceted garnet hanging from the center of her black velvet choker.


R'yki comes in from the Bowl.


R'yki:
Mangy dark red hair sprouts from the young man's head falling just past the
crook of his neck. His bangs have been allowed to grow out, and they
eternally move to get in the way of his pale gray eyes. His nose is rather
stout, slightly turned up at the end, and freckles dot the bridge and flow
into his cheeks. His skin has a light brown tan from being in the sun for
long periods of time, his lips, however are a rather pale pink. He's built
rather well, being fairly muscled in the arms and the chest, but he doesn't
exactly tower over others, only standing about 5'6 tall, and doesn't seem
to be growing any more.

Ray is wearing a sky-blue tunic which looks well-looked after, it's a bit
dusty but in good shape. Dark black slacks fit rather snugly about his
mid-section but look just a bit too short for his legs. Brown leather boots
are laced tightly about his feet, and no longer have the new shine to them,
however they are in fairly good shape. A yellow and black knot is settled
on his shoulder, marking him as a weyrling at Igen Weyr. A simple brown
ribbon is threaded into the the knot, signifying his lifemate is brown. The
Mirage wingbadge is also located on his shoulder sleeve.

 He looks to be about 20 Turns, 4 months, and 28 days old.


Fyra glances up as their table is one of the last to be cleared away, and
she gives the server her tongue as she's shuffled off her seat so that they
can set up better. She stands next to Elianne, head bobbing. "As soon as
Mum gets her things together, yah. She's got to go back an' forth these
days from Igen to Ista, so maybe I'll be swinging 'round more. Ya can join
my team an' help me overthrow Ista's new Weyrleader, too," she offers with
a cackle, tucking the firelizard into the crook of her arm as she holds it
close before regarding the sudden bustle of the caverns curiously.

Lanisa's trailing A'zric down the stairs, still mid thought as she speaks
to him, "So we had been thinking about this hunting trip. You know, blow
off some steam. and then we thought, well you might like to blow off a bit
as well, get out, fresh air over musty hides..." Kassi's entrance earns her
a wave, but the bluerider is quick to turn her attention back to their
Weyrleader.

IGEN-> W'adru sighs. Wall's turnday slipped by me yet again.

IGEN-> Lanisa bakes Wall a cake ;)

IGEN-> W'adru is afraid of who'll jump outta the cake.

IGEN-> Juliri says, "Richard Simmons."

A'zric tromptromps down the stairs with Lanisa. "Gelth'd appreciate going
for more of a fly, he's been itching for getting out more. Apparently I'm
cramping his social style, poor thing." There's no disguising the
affection, nor the sarcasm in the bronzerider's tone. "I'll think about it."

IGEN-> W'adru rips his brain out at that image. "That man has way too much
positive energy."

IGEN-> Lanisa says, "This me we're talking about baking. Better to fear
what I might have put in it than what might come out ;)"

IGEN-> Kassima says, "If you put in Richard Simmons, that's not any less
scary. ;)"

IGEN-> W'adru finds himself suddenly envisioning Wall grinning, instead of
teeth, an array of deal-a-meal cards appear...

Elianne shuffles and says to Fyra "I'll look out for you then. Good luck
with the overthrowing an' all that! I'm not sure kitchen types would be
much help with that. Oh, and thanks for Shards, too. Safe home!" She waves
and then with reluctance all over her face and a backwards glance to Fyra
and Shards heads for her chores in the kitchen.

Elianne wanders into the Weyr's kitchens.

IGEN-> Juliri says, "Can't you just imagine Richard Simmons popping out of
a birthday cake? That'd be HILARIOUS."

IGEN-> R'yki says, "it'd be scary >>."

IGEN-> R'yki would run for the hills.

IGEN-> Juliri beams.

"We should hold a giant bonfire," Kassima suggests, "and throw all the
musty hides in. Then do victory dances around the ashes and commission the
Harpers t'sing about it. Would that satisfy Gelth, if'n Igen's queens and
greens were invited to come watch?" She scans the room, taking in this
familiar person, that less-familiar person... the wine supply. Ah-hah.
Beeline time.

IGEN-> R'yki says, "and the scary thing is, he'd probably be running right
behind me saying 'you can do it!""

IGEN-> Kassima says, "In tiny, tiny shorts."

IGEN-> R'yki shudders at the image.

IGEN-> Juliri says, "That'd be great."

"Thinking about it is good," Lani allows with a flash of a smile, then more
soberly, "It would be good for us all I think. We were talking about
heading to the Benden ranges for it. Just above the hold." She turns
Kassi's way and laughs, "I've some of the perfect hides to add to it. I
like that thought."

Fyra waves her free arm out towards Elianne, frowning in disappointment at
one less recruit towards her cause. She decides a meager handful of cookies
were not enough and heads towards the meal table, skirting around a few
servers and drudges before eyeing those riders that are starting to gather
up. She doesn't speak up yet, trying to figure out if there is something
worth sticking around for, first, though she does manage to perk up on the
'bonfire' idea.

W'adru comes in from the Bowl.


W'adru:
This handsome fellow's black hair is cut very, very short, and seems rather
odd on a fellow of his size. The plain cream colored tunic matches well
with the slightly darker shade of cream of his pants. A pair of well worn
boots adorn his feet. He is a tall one, stands approximately six feet, five
inches in height and is very broad at the shoulder. His weight is
proportionate to his physique, something in the two hundred and fifty pound
range. The build is one of a person who has done hard labor since early in
their life, moving heavy objects and keeping in shape. While not obscenely
muscled, he does have a nice tone to his physique with decent definition to
his torso and legs. He wears a simple leather band around his neck that
hangs long, disappearing into the front of the tunic and a simple but broad
leather belt. The brown eyes sparkle with amusement and on his left
shoulder is a Weyrling Knot of the colors of Igen Weyr. Running through the
middle of the knot is a thread of a coppery bronze in sign of his lifemate.
W'adru is 22 Turns, 0 months, and 12 days


IGEN-> W'adru picutres a dragon in short shorts and a curly dark haired wig
doing jumping jacks and projecting <<Alright, dragons! Lets lose those
wherry guts! One and Two! One and Two!>>

Josilina stands with R'sel, dressed in a one-shouldered gold dress with
wide black sash at the waist. She beams out at the entering weyrlings,
bouncing a bit on her toes. Every so often, she nudges her companion with
her elbow, pointing out this rider-to-be or another, with whispered
comments to go along, and for the more familiar ones she has a little wave
and a grin.

A'zric snorts softly, making his way towards the klah. "I've got hides
dating back to Ista still in my things, I could probably have a bonfire for
the weyr all on my own. I'm in!" He laughs in Kassima's direction and then
nods to Lani, pouring klah without even needing to look. "Benden's nice.
Fewer of my relatives out there these days."

There's a soft padding of feet as R'kyi slowly makes his way into the
caverns, the weyrling stops at the entrance, letting his eyes flicker
around the area before his eyes land on something in particular. And, he'll
say aside to anyone who's near him, "How soon are we allowed to drink?"
Someone's impatient.

Kassima rhapsodizes to no one in particular while pouring a glass of the
inevitable Benden Red, "'Twould flare so high night would become day, and
we'd all be so busy rejoicing we might nay notice the horrible stench of
burning mold. The Bakers would make a cake--about yea high--" She gestures
with the glass to indicate something just below her eye level. "Probably
we'd be so jubilant we'd throw it at each other like children instead of
eating it, though. So it shouldn't be a very good cake." A sip of wine, a
twitch of her skirts to smooth an imagined crooked ruffle.

The servers have everything in order, the tables are at last in readiness
with cloths trimmed in Igen colors gracing each and bowls of cut wild
flowers to accent the center of each. It's now that finger foods circulate,
appetizers to wet the appetite.

W'adru trails the pack in. Strangely enough, no sign of Ashryl yet. The
bronzer stops inside the cavern to take in the enormity of it all before
sidling in, hands behind his back. He follows a few other Weyrlings who
gather against one of the walls in a nervous knot.

"There gonna be a party, or a fire?" Fyra pipes up from somewhere behind a
rider, peering up at her curiously. She is small for her age, and young as
she is, she definitely doesn't match up to these taller people. She decides
her arm is too important for the sleeping green, and she positions the
creature onto her shoulder, rousing her enough for her to find a more
stable position. "'Less you're going to have a fire /an'/ a party in the
caverns?" There's a wicked glint to her eyes at that thought.

"You have family out that way? Or is it mostly did now? Why is it I feel as
if I should have known that, eh? Some of mine were at the Weyr there when
it had it's troubles, they've gone back there again too. I like to visit
now and again." Lanisa says on and then answers Fyra, "Does it have to be
one or the other? Ahh well, a party now, a party and fire both it sounds
like later."

"Nothing like the smell of burning mold int he morning." A'zric laughs
heartily and then nods to Lanisa as he drinks from his mug, getting some of
the precious substance that the weyrleader seems to run on exclusively into
him. "Bitra, Benden. My mother Impressed at Benden, so I moved there when I
was knee high to a crawler and she was a weyrling. She's been at Telgar for
decades now, and my siblings scattered all over Pern. So it's all did have
family out that way."

"Party now," Kassi cheerfully answers Fyra, "fire later. We're graduating
Weyrlings tonight, 'twould be a shame t'set 'em on fire after all the work
Sria's put in." It's a good time to toast that distant nervous Weyrling
knot with her glass. "And Benden is wonderful!" She can't let a chance to
say that slip by.

R'yki will turn his head slightly to Wall as the bigger man comes in, "Hey,
W'adru, wanna get drunk with me, c'mon, have a few bottles." It's never fun
to drink alone, better to drink with a friend. And now that they're almost
graduated? Time to get plastered.

Fyra purses her lips out again in thought. "Not if ya clear a patch in the
caverns an' pile hides high, or jus' outside. I bet ya can have a decent
fire going in no time." She, of course, doesn't see the possibility of
suffocating everyone trapped in the caverns in that manner. She finally
makes it to the table themselves, carefully pouring herself a glass of
juice to be healthy, though she's eyeing the bottles of booze as if she
might snatch one away.

W'adru waves to R'yki. "Maybe a little later. I don't want anything
catching me by surprise tonight." he calls out, his eyes flicking towards
the bowl.

Lanisa chuckles, "Sounds much like my family, really." This to A'zric and
then she turns towards Fyra, giving her a considering look before she asks,
perhaps to the room at large, "I like this one, can we keep her?"

IGEN-> R'yki says, "sorry, kinda not feeling too well so don't mind me X-x'."

Kassima makes an amused sound. "I don't know, Lani. How did Trii react the
last time you brought a pyromaniac home?" For good measure, because it's
there, she lifts the entire 'skin of Red and meanders with it closer to a
table, though she doesn't yet sit down. "It smells like... victory," she
agrees with A'zric. "Have you heard aught from those brothers of yours
lately? Khari's going t'make 'em uncles. And Lani an aunt at the same time.
--Hey," she calls to W'adru and R'yki, "neither of you are wearing purple!
I can't decide whether I'm disappointed or relieved."

Fyra decided that there're too many eyes watching to go ahead and fill a
glass of wine, so she takes her juice and heads for a meatroll to satisfy
herself for the moment. "Keep?" She says, turning her blue eyes back on the
rider, arching one brow high. "'m no one that is kept!" But then the brow
goes down. "'Less you're offering something good." She smiles innocently at
the adult people, riders, and takes a bite of her roll.

R'yki will llet himself look over his clothes, tilting his head to the
side, "I'm wearing purple." R'yki finally admits, tapping the necklace
beaded around his neck, "This is purple." The weyrling will remind. "Kassi,
do you wanna drink with me?" Yes, he's being straight to the point. He
wants to get plastered.

W'adru blushes a little at the Assistant Weyrlmaster's jibe. He looks as if
there is a story there, but a quick glance downward. Not to be shared it
would seem. Instead he heads towards the drink tables. A mug of klah seems
to be what he wants just now. With that secured he turns to see the knot of
Weyrlings breaking up, slowly melding into the people gathered in the
Caverns. And so the bronzer loses himself as well.

Sria comes down the stairway.

[Editor's Note:  This was a night for gifts, and the first came
from Benden Hold:]

---

You have new +mail from Jeracynn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message 143                           Date Received: Mon Mar 17 19:18:41 2008
From:      Jeracynn
To:        W'adru, R'yki, Sria, Kassima
Cc:        Keveris, Eleria
Subject:   Congratulations From Benden
==============================================================================
First, a note written in a fine hand: It's just a little early for any of
our nuts to send gifts of those, but we thought you might appreciate these
just as much?

Accompanying the note is a small bottle, holding just enough for a pair of
glasses. The contents, however, for those who recognize the labeling proves
to be one of the finer vintages known to have been produced by the craft
residing at the Hold. A lovely red, known to have an unforgettable flavor,
or so those in the know tend to claim.

A second glance at the note proves it to be signed, 'Our congratulations on
this memorable occasion, Lady Jeracynn and Benden Hold'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---

Kassima juggles glass and 'skin until she has a hand free for finger-
snapping. "Couldn't see it from here, but I should've been remembering you 
wear it. I certes plan t'drink." The greenrider suits action to word by 
taking a long, leisurely sip, then grins at R'yki. "Help yourself and 
drink along, though I'd wait until the formalities get through a'fore I 
had more than a few cups--if'n you throw up on A'zric's shoes while he's 
making a speech, you'll be very, very sorry. And so will he. And so will 
we all who have t'smell it."

R'yki rolls his eyes ever so slightly at Kassi, laughing loudly as he jabs
a finger in her direction. "You forget, Kassima, that I was a fisherman.
I've had my fair share of drinking in the past, I can keep my ale." R'yki
offers a playful wink before moving pointedly over towards the serving
tables, making no question about where he's heading.

"No throwing up on the weyrleader!" A'zric clearly only caught a touch of
that conversation, but his voice'll carry anywhere thanks to years of
leading Fall. "Amazing how dawn watches seem to come to those who throw up
on my shoes." There's a little laugh, especially as he's drinking klah and
will be bright eyed and bushy tailed at the ungodly hour that dawn watch
would arrive at.


Sria:
	Sria is all lean muscle and sharp form, her 5'6" frame and thirty-
some Turns carried with assurance. Shadowy blonde hair - at odds with dark,
elegant eyebrows - stretches once-wild waves to her shoulders, half-curling
along the way. Still haphazard, the cut lends a softening touch to crisp
features, though the flashes behind grey-green eyes remain steely as ever.
She's grown tan from her time at Igen, her hair paler, with golden freckles
here and there.
	Smooth, dark grey deftly outlines her slim form, a fitted, low-slung 
vest clasped crisply across an open-collared white shirt. Matching grey 
pants continue the trend of snug, less-worn leather, and her hair is pulled 
into a classy twist, silver pins matching the slim circle looping one wrist. 
An Igen weyrlingmaster knot loops one shoulder, a thin riding crop hangs 
from a hip.


IGEN-> Kassima says, "Sria, your taste in accessories is stunning. ;)"

"You might have a point. Trii might not want me bringing home more trouble
than we already are, eh? Still, I could ask." Lanisa says to Kassi and then
to Fyra, "I guess you're safe for now." For now, since she's on to the next
thing just like that, "Maybe we should seat the weyrlings a few tables away
from the Weyrleader, eh? Is it too late to rearrange the seating?"

IGEN-> Sria says, "Coming from you, Kassi, that means so much. The crop is
tradition :)"

W'adru's tall figure isn't so hard to notice moving about the outer edges
of the gathered. He stops near a pair of kitchen workers who have flagged
him down. They hand him a ...sandwich? The three have a good laugh.

Protests from the servers eliminate any possibility of the Weyrsecond's
suggestion and the Steward answers their pleas, stepping forward and saying
in a voice that carries over the din, "If you'll all be seated? I'm told
it's time we get started."

Fyra has finished with her one roll, ready for another. "'m not trouble,"
she calls up again, trying her best to look like not-trouble, too, before
taking her snack and her mug elsewhere from the middle of the crowd. She
takes her position in a chair, seated her her feet propped up and the mug
on the edge of the table, whether or not the table was reserved for someone
else.

Now that R'yki has a mug in his hand and is sipping all too happily from
the substance within, he'll allow himself a slow look over the living
caverns, his eyes landing on each person in turn, as if looking for someone
in particular.

Sria has been here, perhaps a little in and out, but she's found a glass of
wine and her hand seems quite at home with it. She's making the rounds like
the rest of the crowd, looking up and working her way to the front as folks
start to find their seats.

"Trii'd rather be the one bringing home trouble. All the mistresses.
Although," Kassima speculates, considering Fyra, "you could be telling Trii
she's his daughter with one of the bronzeriders and he's morally obliged
t'be taking her in. It could work." There's the call, and she pulls out her
chair to settle in, but not before asking A'zric, "Have people thrown up on
your shoes often?"

IGEN-> A'deth says, "SOrry about being late, I've gotten like no sleep and
today was very hectic."

"No?" Lani asks towards Fyra as she seeks her own seat, but before sitting
she pauses to smirk Kassi's way, "You know, now that just might work. Which
of them do you think she looks the most like, eh?"

IGEN-> Kassima snugs A'deth. We're just getting seated for the ceremonial
foo anyway. :)

"Best not to ask." A'zric notes to Kassima. "I've been a bronzerider for
over forty years." He nods sagely and then moves up to the important people
table to take his seat. "Wait.. what's this about Mistresses?"

IGEN-> Sria says, "Sheesh, A'deth. How dare you show up late. Not that I
just got here or anything. :)"

Fyra tries to keep a straight face, and failing as she gives the bluerider
another: "Not trouble." Snort. Snicker. She hides it by pulling her mug in
close, and then all this talk about bronzeriders has her finding another
seat a bit closer, sitting down completely so that the table could hide
most of her, too.

As Wall and a few others are walking to their seats, a few of them stop,
looking out the entrance from the bowl. Standing there in a green dress,
plastered to her body, hair a mass of water, plastered to her neck and
shoulders stands the missing greenrider, Ashryl. She doesn't look
particularly happy, nor does her dress. Torn here and there, even a couple
of scratches, although nothing bleeding. She looks rather put out, standing
there and breathing hard. She quickly scans the room and her eyes fall on
the four Weyrlings at one table, one of whom happens to be Wall.

Spotting who he's looking for, R'yki finally allows himself a proud smile,
quickly snatching up another mug as he makes his way through the crowd near
a tall, dark man with bright blue eyes and red hair. R'yki helps himself to
a seat near the other and the two fall into silent conversation.

Sria's attention goes astray somewhere around 'mistresses' from the
Weyrsecond's conversation, but she refocuses quickly enough. She manages to
find herself near Kassima, her gaze touching on the weyrlings as they move
to their seats - the redhead gets a smile, then R'yki and W'adru - but then
soaking-wet Ashryl is spotted. The weyrlingmaster simply lifts her
eyebrows, very high indeed, and murmurs, "That's one way to make an entrance."

A'deth quietly emerges from the Infirmary... but he pauses just outside the
entrance to blink at Ashryl just as /she/ comes in. "Great bloody Faranth,
what happened?"

Kassima's eyes narrow in thought. "Frighteningly enough, I'sai," she
decides. "M'tri has clearly had a secret baby with your father. One of us
will have t'be killing him for the insolence, and given the givens methinks
you get the honors; but if'n you'd let me kick him around the Bowl a couple
of times first I'd be grateful." Poor M'tri. Poor Fyra. And for entirely
unrelated reasons, poor Ashryl! Kassi opens her mouth, closes it. Drinks.
"Knew she'd find a way," she agrees with Sria. "And I'd figured on a
clinging dress, but that's beyond the pale. If'n she's that keen for his
attention she might leap at Wall right in front of us all and I don't have
enough wine for that."

Ashryl stands there, glaring at her 4 classmates. Maybe all four of them.
Her teeth are clinched tightly and she speaks through them. "/Someone/ had
their..../thing/ attack me while I was getting ready." She sloshes into the
Cavern, not at all a happy camper, this one. Mindless of the fact that
every nook and cranny of her person is all but visible through the thin,
wet, green fabric, she approaches the four. "And I know /just/ who it was."
she looks up, and up, at W'adru, who raises his eyebrows in surprise.

Lanisa's seat doesn't give her a clear view of Ashryl so it's no shock she
calmly lists for A'zric, "Aye, my Da, V'lano, J'len and I think maybe
M'rek, but I was never sure... It's all Kassi's fault of course, taking
Trii as her wife." Never expect sense from the bluerider's family, clearly,
for she just nods at Kassi's decision and says, "Of course. I should have
seen her for my sister from the start."

R'yki lifts his eyes ever so slightly, pausing in his talk with the man
sitting to his side. A curious gaze is given to Ashryl, shaking his head
slowly. "She sure does know how to make things interesting." R'yki murmurs
quietly before turning his attention back to the man next to him, falling
back into the conversation.

Fyra stares at Kassima for a good long while over the rim of her mug before
turning to some more sensible person with a "What /is/ she talking 'bout?"
Poor confused Fyra, more like it. She does also follow looks towards
Ashryl, not able to pass a giggle off at her condition. And then it's back
to the confusing riders. Even with her storytelling, it wasn't that bad.
"Ya got a sister? An' ya got a wife?" She blinks between the two of them.

Sria chuckles lightly at Kassima's words. "Yes, and some very expensive
jewelry. I rather like this look, though. It's not unflattering, really."
Sria beams a smile over at the poor sodden greenrider, with that, though
there is a slightly suspicious sort of expression directed at another
aforementioned weyrling. For the group of them, however, she just lifts a
brow and glances, pointedly, towards the seats they're to be taking.

W'adru smiles at the sopping Ashryl. "If you disturbed Daz while she was
sleeping in my press, that's your bad luck." With that, he turns and
assumes his seat, the others he's with more hesitant. A low growl from the
soggy green dress wearer and she sloshes to her seat. Right next to R'yki,
lucky him!

Once all the guests and weyrlings are seated, Josilina fluffs her skirt and
steps up to the front of the room. "Evening, everyone! We're..." she trails
off a moment, regarding The Wet Weyrling, and then continues as if nothing
could be more normal: "..We're so glad you could all come to see our
weyrlings graduate we're awfully proud of them, and think they deserve
every celebration tonight. They've made it through two turns of real tough
training, and after tonight they'll finally step into the ranks of full
riders of Igen Weyr. So, congratulations weyrlings, from both of us," she
gestures to A'zric, "our lifemates, and...well, everyone. And now, I'd like
to invite our esteemed visiting Weyrlingmaster, Sria, to come say a few
words." She applauds a little as she steps aside, gesturing the brownrider
forward.

R'yki's brows slowly lift, catching someone sitting next to him. And his
lips purse tightly together. "Hello, Ashryl." And the man next to him will
lean forward and whisper something to R'yki, "Oh, right, this is my
father." A quick nod to the man, but then the weyrling falls into silence
as Josilina starts to speak, leaning back to listen.

Ashryl sits next to R'yki, wet, sulking, likely scheming some form of
revenge. Her eyes, however, are on the Weyrwoman as she speaks, her ams
crossed across her chest, thank goodness.

"He's awfully dry and tidy for an attack that half-drowned her," Kassima
observes, watching the altercation with great interest--but no interest, it
seems, in intervening. "I don't think we can rightly punish him, d'you?"
She flicks her eyes back to Fyra and Lanisa, and is only too willing to
explain, "Lani here is the weyrmate of m'wife, M'tri. M'tri is nay the best
weyrmate, nor wife, and likes t'go around kissing bronzeriders, so we're
deciding whether Lanisa could pass you off as his daughter with her father,
I'sai." That'll clear things right up! The greenrider sets her wine down in
order to enthusiastically applaud for her boss.

A'zric is just making sure that the wet weyrling is alright, absolutely. He
is not giving the young woman a good onceover in a clinging dress. His
attention comes back up to the weyrwoman as she includes him on a
congratulations and he smiles, nodding his agreement, but keeping quite for
the moment.

A'deth quickly crosses the room and slips into a seat near Kassima, his
usual work clothes and tired self quite a poor contrast to her resplendent
countenance today. But it's a celebration, there's good company about and
good wine to be had, and he's as pleased as anyone to partake of it all.

Sria presses her lips together, as if Kassima raises a most distressing
concept. "I don't believe we rightly can. No proof, you know." That angled
Ashryl's way a touch. Upon Josilina's words, she smiles and strolls to the
front, clearing her throat. "The first time I laid eyes on this fine group,
they were all wearing purple." She pauses, nodding as if to convince the
nonbelievers. "I had just arrived at Igen, and the Candidates had gotten
themselves into a punishment that only Weyrwoman Josilina," with a nod to
the goldrider, "could dream up."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Lanisa tells Fyra, "My family's just a odd
muddle, you'll get used to it and the truth is probably stranger than the
fiction if you listen to it all and try and sort out which is which." By
now she's shifted so she can catch what most everyone else has already seen
and it's a barely suppressed chuckle she gives before listening then to
first the Weyrwoman and then Sria.

R'yki will groan loudly, running a hand through his hair at the memory, now
lifting up his hands just to make sure that there's no more purple dye on
him. Satisfied, the weyrling'll let his arms flop back to his sides, idly
fingering the purple necklace around his neck.

Kassima turns her head to flash A'deth a bright smile, not seeming to mind
the lack of finery, and wordlessly nudges her wineskin his way. Although
judging by her glass it's Red, not White. "Josilina should punish people
more often," she comments to those near enough to hear. "That was fun."

"Right, wife," Fyra says quickly to Kassima with a bob of her head. "But my
father was a brownrider," she adds quickly, as if that is noticeable and
saying any bronzer in her line of family is impossible. She looks towards
the announcing Weyrwoman and the Weyrlingmaster, finishing off her snacks
before setting the empty mug on the table with a blink. "I think this
Weyr's definitely got something wrong with it. Wet Weyrlings, crazy
riders," she mumbles to herself, but she definitely looks a bit more
relaxed in the setting.

Sria continues, "I would like to say that it wasn't an omen of the
weyrlings to come, but I'm afraid I'm a poor liar." That sentence could
prove itself wrong, but you'd never know it. "Like most weyrlings the first
day off the Sands, they did not seem particularly promising." She looks
them over once, "But luckily for Igen, they rallied rather well, as you can
all see."

IGEN-> Lanisa wonders if I should tell the girl of the truth of just how
many generations of "insanity" there is in Lani's family ;)

IGEN-> A'deth says, "Ehe, ehehe."

IGEN-> R'yki snerks.

IGEN-> Kassima wishes Ryialla would come back just long enough to visit
Igen and tap dance on a table with Mr. Flibble. ;)

IGEN-> A'deth supposes he could tabledance for the general public, if
necessary, but that's not precisely the same thing.

IGEN-> Lanisa grins, "Ahh, dear sweet Gran." ;)

IGEN-> Kassima says, "It would work! Especially if we got you a big poofy
pink dress and hat and a hand puppet. I vote for this either way, mind."

IGEN-> W'adru sooo stays outta this. Hard enough dealin' with a soggy
greenrider.

IGEN-> Kassima says, "This being the tabledancing, not the dress, as seems
worth clarifying."

IGEN-> R'yki will dance on the tables once he gets drunk enough :3.

IGEN-> A'deth could do it. He would look fabulous.

Josilina's smile twists wry at Sria's words, and the Weyrwoman scoffs not
very subtly, either at the Weyrlingmaster's denial of lying abilities.

A'deth pours himself a glass of red wine, since Kassima's so generously
offering, and raises it at Sria's words. "Sorry," he murmurs to his fellow
greenrider, "About being late. You know how the infirmary can get."

"Is rallying what you call that?" Sh'sen mutters to Ol'dra, eyeing Ashryl
from a safe distance of several chairs down.

R'yki runs a finger over his chin, leaning closer to whisper something in
his father's ear, mirth shining brightly in his eyse, likely as if sharing
the story in a quiet manner. There's much to catch up on, after all.

Sria turns to regard her soon-to-be-ex-charges, now, and says, "You've all
done extremely well. You've faced the considerable challenges of
weyrlinghood and come out the better for it. I expect to see great things
from all of you - -all- of you." Even the wet ones? She pauses, and turns
back to the crowd. "Assistant Weyrlingmaster Kassima and I are very proud
to raise a glass," which she does: "Here's to the newest Dragonriders of
Pern."

Someone yells, "Here here!" from the back.

Ashryl uncrosses her arms, running a hand through her half wet, now looking
slightly straggly hair. She mumbles something softly. Her head jerks around
towards the bowl entrance, she blushes and scrunches down in her seat a
little, pouting.

Kassima shakes her head in denial. "You're right on time for everything
important," she murmurs back. She might say something more, but that's her
cue to stand and lift her half-full glass high, and call an echo: "To the
newest dragonriders of Pern!"

A'deth happily raises his glass a second time, because it's always time for
a toast, especially when it's to new riders!

A'zric lifts his klah mug in toast. "To the newest riders to make Igen proud!"

Fyra picks up her empty mug to raise it like all the rest of the caverns
are doing, though she doesn't put any true heart into it. Not her Weyr,
really... "New riders, yay," she calls out and then lowers her mug and sets
it back down onto the table.

Sria toasts those gathered, and then, with a smile, the weyrlings, and
takes a drink. "May you continue to wear as much purple as your hearts
desire, riders." -Riders-, fancy that. Then she nods to A'zric,
surrendering the floor again.

Lanisa's own glass is lifted with the rest, a wide smile on her face and
for a moment, all oddness in her family and teasing set a side as she then
takes a sip in tribute.

R'yki lifts his drink proudly as everyone else does, grinning from ear to
ear. "Now we can drink all we want." First order of business? Get drunk,
that's R'yki's plans, it seems. However, at Sria's toast, R'yki can't help
but laugh as he offers a playful glare her way.

W'adru plays along, raising his mug of klah with everyone else. He sets it
back down after taking a sip from it. Eyeing the Weyrleader.

As the toasts are given and conclude, silently the servers work their way
through the room, filling glasses here and there.

Kassima sinks back into her chair, beaming from ear to ear. "But nay with
orange, please," she adds to Sria's wish for them. "We all like nay being
blind."

A'zric stands, apparently to take the stage. "It's my turn to offer
congratulations to all of the new riders. I'm not much for long flowery
speeches, so this will be brief. I look forward to working with each and
everyone of you." His eyes seek out each of the weyrlings, lingering on
each a moment. "Igen is proud to have you, and as a mark of our pride, we
have a little something for each of you." The tall weyrleader steps over
the bench to come to each of the weyrlings in turn. A firm handshake, and a
little pouch for each, not so much bigger than the ring sized for each within.

Josilina takes her place by A'zric, offering a grin and a hand to shake to
each graduating weyrling.

IGEN-> R'yki has decided, I'm making purple straps for Diusuth XD.

IGEN-> Kassima suspects Diusuth will be suited to the Purple. ;)

IGEN-> R'yki says, "he'd like it ^^."

Sria watches the official rings being handed out, her fingers -
predictably, as always - straying to twist the ring on her own hand.

R'yki blinks ever so slightly, sitting up when he hears the word "gifts". A
brow arches on his forehead, leaning forward as the pouch is presented to
him. The new rider opens it up and peers inside it rather curiously and
pries fingers into the pouch to pull out his shiney new ring, fixing it to
the finger with the ring with the egg Diusuth hatched out of.

It's around this time that an Istan rider comes out from the lower caverns,
holding a stack of hides under her arm. There's a stern glare in the
direction of Fyra, and the young girl carefully slides off her chair.
"There's mum," she says carefully to those around her, as if it would
explain all. "An' she never has time for any of this." She nods to them,
seeing that there were no names to the faces, and then turns to dart along
the edge of the ceremony towards the bowl.

Kassima spreads her fingers to look over her rings, particularly the
emerald in gold on her right hand. "Took me Turns t'be as bejeweled as
they'll be now," she mourns, amused rather than aggrieved. "Mayhaps a trip
t'Smithcraft's in order. I can get 'em started on bracelets."

[Editor's Note:  Next up, the desc for the Weyrlings' rings:]

---

You have new +mail from Lanisa.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message 144                           Date Received: Mon Mar 17 20:36:18 2008
From:      Lanisa
To:        R'yki, W'adru
Subject:   The pouch
==============================================================================
With in the soft velvet pouch, is something quite small that is easy to
pour out into the palm to be caught, a ring.

This ring of highly polished silver curls around its bearer's finger in
individual strands of light and darkness, spiralling and twisting in an
intricate pattern. Individual tendrils of silver stretch over and around an
oval cut sapphire so dark its blue depths almost appear black. A small
circular inlay to one side, of onyx on gold, depicts mountains and desert,
the symbol of Igen Weyr.

Inscribed in the interior, 'Your name', 'your dragon's' and the date of
your graduation... 'Day 6/Month 9/Turn 15' - Your gift from the Weyrleaders.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---

A'deth looks over Kassima's rings, too. "Don't forget earrings. Those
fashionable long dangly ones would look /fabulous/ on their strapping young
wherhide-clad selves, I'm sure."

W'adru takes the pouch for him, shaking hands and smiling. Also offering a
salute to both the Weyrleader and the Weyrwoman before opening the pouch.
He eyes the ring, a sad smile crossing his face. Carefully he slips the
ring onto his right ring finger and looks at it.

"Hmm, Smithcraft," Sria says. "Now that I've that green necklace of
Ashryl's -" another glance for the damp one, "I ought to find a piece or
two to go with it, I think." She calls over, then, "Congratulations,
riders. You can start calling me Sria, now." As if this is some sort of
relief to her, despite the two turns she's recently spent assigning laps
for less-than-perfect salutes.

"Amethyst, a'course," Kassima agrees with a perfectly straight face.
"Diamond chips t'be accenting. And there has t'be topaz; they're Igenites."
Oh, dear, now she actually looks thoughtful. But so pleased is she for the
Weyrlings that she draws her thoughts from jewels to smile at them, and
say, "You've earned every sparkle. That settles it, Sria--another perfect
excuse for a group trip."

Ashryl blushes deeply as her turn approaches. Aware now, by the fact its
drying clinging to her flesh, just the state she is in. She gives apologies
to the Weyrleaders for her appearance, accepting the velvet pouch. Once the
pair are on to their next victim, she opens the pouch and pours the silver
ring into her palm. She smiles, a very basic, simple smile. She slips it
onto her finger, her appearance, for the moment, moved to the back of her
mind.

R'yki grins as he holds up his hand, examining his new ring as it shines in
the light, even offering it to his father to examine it over. Yup,
someone's quite happy with himself.

A'zric grins, perhaps a little too much at Ashryl as he passes her the
ring, apparently he isnt distraught at all by her state of dress. He raises
his voice again. "Alright! I think that's the official business, you've got
a day or two reprieve before you get tapped into wings.. get with the
drinking while you still have that day or two to recover!"

Sria grins at Kassima. "You may be right. A group trip, where everyone's
allowed to drink and declare their love and go between without checking
visualizations first. Sounds grand." - "Speaking of, I've those other
parcels under guard right over there. Maybe once they've had another drink
or two."

A'deth reaches for Kassima's wineskin, and moves to refill his glass-- and
tilts his head at she and Sria, wineskin still raised as if he might want
to top up their drinks, too. "...That sounds promising."

W'adru stands up as the other Weyrlings...uh, former Weyrlings...do as they
are dismissed. THere is general whoopin' hollerin' and general making of
spectacles of ones selves. Wall drains his mug and makes his way out of the
crowd settling on the steps up to the balcony with a sigh, head hanging.
His right hand settling on his right knee, eyes focusing on the ring.

R'yki lets out his own whoop when they're formally dismissed, throwing his
fist in the air then tugging on his father's sleeve. R'yki is now grinning
wickedly. "You'll have to keep your end of the deal now and let me come
with you for a few months." And here the man will simply smile in
amusement, shaking his head.

Kassima applauds for A'zric, for the new riders, and for booze, grinning
widely. "Here, here! That's sounding more like a bar than Smithcraft,
Sria--" A thing which doesn't dim her enthusiasm. "I'm all for it. Lava
Lounge, Dawn Sisters, WaveRider, the Winehall? I haven't worn a shot glass
as a hat in far too long." She bobs her head to A'deth, sliding her glass
over. "Mayhaps nay wait?" she suggests. "If'n 'twere Ashryl at least, I'd
be in a hurry t'be escaping into clothes less... what's the word I'm
looking for...."

"Ooh, I just love graduations!" the Weyrwoman confides to a bluerider she's
cornered during the festivities. "Don't the weyrlings new riders look well?
I'm so proud of them and Sria, too, she and her staff did such a good job,
even if she did have to bring that awful crop to the graduation. It's not
very lady-like, is it?"

IGEN-> W'adru will comment at this point that Sria, despite appearances,
was not exactly a croppy Weyrlingmaster. :p

IGEN-> Kazara peers.

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Kaz! :) Party in the LC :)"

IGEN-> Kazara says, "What kind of party?"

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Get drunk onto your rump, sleep 'em where they fall
kind. :)"

IGEN-> Kazara always has trouble with large groups of people. >.<

Lanisa's glass, refilled by a server is all the cue she needs to get up and
start making the rounds, a few moments here, a few there and it's not long
before she's intermingling with the former weyrlings.

IGEN-> A'deth says, "Weyrling grad."

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Seven of us right now. I'm about to be bowing out in a
moment or two. :)"

IGEN-> R'yki is gonna be sneaking out soon.

"As a hat? -- Sopping, I think, is the one. Well then, let's." Sria looks
around, and since it's only been a few moments since their release, her
gaze is enough to get a few of them looking back. The parcels are carted
over from the other side of the cavern, and Sria says, "Wey- er, riders."
She laughs a little, at the slip. "Kassima and I have gifts for you, as
well." The packages are even labeled with their names, W'adru and R'yki at
the top of the pile. "Congratulations."

Ashryl finds herself trapped, well not exactly /trapped/, between a
bluerider and a brownrider. Something gives the hint that perhaps she won't
be worried about that still slightly soggy dress much longer. Wineclass in
the hand.

Sria also, belatedly, accepts A'deth's refill with a gracious smile, as the
gifts are handed out to their respective ex-weyrlings.

W'adru stands up from where he retreated to the balcony stairs and rejoins
the group again, as Sria's slip gets his attention.

[Editor's Note:  And finally, the WLM team's gifts:]

---

You have new +mail from Sria.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message 145                           Date Received: Mon Mar 17 21:06:02 2008
From:      Sria
To:        R'yki
Cc:        Kassima
Subject:   Graduation Gifts
==============================================================================
 Opening the package, you find...

A true marvel of textiles, a gravity-defying spectacle of science, an
extremely odd graduation gift: this pair of pants is all that and more.
Their rich brown shade is strikingly similar to the color of a certain
lifemate, but more impressive still is their rather unique shape. The
waistband is standard enough, with loops wide enough to support the
heftiest of belts, and the material is lush, soft yet sturdy for the
double-knit. When worn, however, these pants can only be described
as...poofy. They bell from thigh to cinched ankle, oodles of extra fabric
swishing dramatically with each step. Well-made despite their novelty,
these festive trousers are perfect for a crowd-pleasing party anthem at any
juncture. And yet they improve still: inside, the soft lining is done in
royal, righteous violet.

Additionally enclosed is a slightly more practical side to the gift...

Crafted of golden-brown suede, at once sturdy and soft to the touch, this
generously sized belt pouch could be used to hold marks, fire-lizard
treats, or whatever other odds and ends the heart desires. The sigil of
Igen Weyr ornaments its face, a leather patch too bright in color to be
missed. The lower edges of the lozenge are bordered by words delicately
embroidered in black: "R'yki and Diusuth" beneath one; under the other, "6D
9M 15T, Tenth Interval." A wide flap keeps the pouch closed, and a cord of
braided yellow and purple rawhide secures it.
Opening it, one would discover the interior lining of satin dyed a slightly
mellowed variant of Igen gold--and the two-mark piece someone's slipped
inside, for luck.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message 146                           Date Received: Mon Mar 17 21:06:48 2008
From:      Sria
To:        W'adru
Cc:        Kassima
Subject:   Graduation gifts
==============================================================================
 Opening the package, you find...

A true marvel of textiles, a gravity-defying spectacle of science, an
extremely odd graduation gift: this pair of pants is all that and more.
Their rich bronzed shade is strikingly similar to the color of a certain
lifemate, but more impressive still is their rather unique shape. The
waistband is standard enough, with loops wide enough to support the
heftiest of belts, and the material is lush, soft yet sturdy for the
double-knit. When worn, however, these pants can only be described
as...poofy. They bell from thigh to cinched ankle, oodles of extra fabric
swishing dramatically with each step. Well-made despite their novelty,
these festive trousers are perfect for a crowd-pleasing party anthem at any
juncture. And yet they improve still: inside, the soft lining is done in
royal, righteous violet.

Additionally enclosed is a slightly more practical side to the gift...

Crafted of golden-brown suede, at once sturdy and soft to the touch, this
generously sized belt pouch could be used to hold marks, fire-lizard
treats, or whatever other odds and ends the heart desires. The sigil of
Igen Weyr ornaments its face, a leather patch too bright in color to be
missed. The lower edges of the lozenge are bordered by words delicately
embroidered in black: "W'adru and Nergath" beneath one; under the other,
"6D 9M 15T, Tenth Interval." A wide flap keeps the pouch closed, and a cord
of braided yellow and purple rawhide secures it.
Opening it, one would discover the interior lining of satin dyed a slightly
mellowed variant of Igen gold--and the two-mark piece someone's slipped
inside, for luck.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---

"Deliciously tragic?" A'deth remarks. And as the weyrwoman's comment about
crops drifts on the conversational breeze, he drawls, "I'll play Bad
Weyrling /anytime/." But, though he looks amused, his gaze shifts to the
solemn W'adru and stays there with some concern.

IGEN-> A'zric says, "Alright.. this weyrleader is taking his headache from
the abyss off to bed. Congrats, thanks for coming. You all rock."

IGEN-> R'yki just....dies XD.

IGEN-> A'deth :3!

IGEN-> Lanisa snugs Yaz, "Sleep well, bossman." :)

IGEN-> R'yki says, "Thanks for the pants, Kassi, Sria."

IGEN-> Sria says, "Thanks A'zric! Goodnight and feel better :)"

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Sleep well, A'zric :) And thanks!"

IGEN-> R'yki says, "Feel better, A'zric"

IGEN-> Kassima snugs Yaz! Dream sweet. :)

IGEN-> Kazara says, "Bye-bye."

"'Twere doing the Nines," Kassima explains, "and by the time we reached
Winehall--I have yet t'make it beyond Winehall--putting a glass on m'head
seemed like utmost logic." She rubs her hands together, watching the giving
of the gifts. "'Twas a pleasure t'teach you," she tells the Weyrlings with
perfect honesty. "And I hope these tokens adequately express our
appreciation. Where did you get that crop, Sria?"

Lanisa turns out to be near W'adru as they are handed that next package,
her curiosity getting the better of her she attempts to take a peek before
asking, "They didn't tell me what they were up to. What'd you get?"

IGEN-> Kassima says, "And the pants are our pleasure, I think I can safely
say. ;)"

R'yki will make his way over towards the gifts, tilting his head slightly
to the side and giving Wall a concerned look, "All right, W'adru? Sure you
don't wanna come have a drink with me and my dad? Could always use a friend
with me." A nod given to his father as he snatches up his gift, fingers
working to undo the box. What he pulls out, has the new rider blanching
almost instantly. "Errr...thanks...Kassi, Sria, for the...pants..." And the
pouch is also peered at, lifting it up. "You people and purple."

IGEN-> R'yki loves them. Diu is so going to make Ray wear it XD>

IGEN-> R'yki has to fix his desc again, stop giving me things XD.

IGEN-> Kazara says, "Pants? The graduates were pantsed?"

IGEN-> Kassima says, "Yes. They are now fit to be MC Hammer's backup dancers!"

IGEN-> Kassima gives all the credit for the pants to Sria, the descs are
hers, and fabulous.

W'adru smiles at his friend but shakes his head. "You and your dad have a
lot to catch up on, Ray. We'll have other chances to have a drink. Go ahead
and make him proud." then Lanisa approach..."Um. Apparently I've started a
fashion trend." he lifts one pants leg and lets it dangle. "And." he pulls
out the pouch holding it up. "This will do nicely to keep my token in so I
don't lose it on the way to the Weavers." For some odd reason the big
fellow just doesn't seem quite up to his usual level of positiveism. "Thank
you, Weyrl...." he catches himself. "Sria. Kassima. I'm sure I'll find
ample use for both of these thoughtful gifts."

IGEN-> W'adru at least managed to avoid purple pants. Although a matching
bronze set is....unique.

IGEN-> R'yki has purple on the inside of the pants XD

IGEN-> W'adru has violet in his. :p

IGEN-> R'yki says, "yeah violet is purple >>."

"Ah. In that case, it makes perfect sense." Sria replies to Kassima,
watching for reactions to the gifts. "It was," she agrees. "I've felt very
at home here, and you all were a large part of that." R'yki's comment earns
the returned, "I do believe it's -you- people and purple, in truth. And
you're welcome," she says to W'adru, though not without noting his mood.
For Kassima's last, she grins: "S'din."

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Well, Purple and Red in some circles. I always
wondered why the violet crayon was with the reds."

IGEN-> Sria says, "Kassima also desced some lovely beltpouches to go with
the poofy pants. And be more practical. But the idea was collaborative for
sure, and really all credit to these weyrlings (ex) of ours."

IGEN-> W'adru just regrets it will be less confusing now to have Wall
referring to Josi the Tunnelsnake from now on. :p

"Blame W'adru!" He's not even a real country anyway! Kassima beams at both
young riders. "For boundless inspiration. If'n we do hit a bar later,
mayhaps you can wear 'em then. I'm so bloody proud of you lot." W'adru gets
a second look from her, too, her dark brows drawing together. "Is all well?"

IGEN-> Kazara isn't sure she wants to know where these pants came from.

R'yki snickers quietly and looks over his shoulder at Sria, "Well, the eggs
were purple." R'yki will point out, "Except the one that Diusuth hatched
from." And R'yki is mighty proud of that, still staring at the poofy brown
pants in his hands, peering inside at the violet. "I guess I'm going to
have to wear purple from now on, I think. Diusuth really likes the color."
He's rather unhappy to admit this, and he slowly turns to Wall. "You sure?
I really don't mind if you join us, Wall. It'd be nice to have someone to
talk to to help fill in the gaps that I can't remember, it's been so long
since we've been face to face."

IGEN-> R'yki says, "Wall wore purple poofy pants to the fashion show"

IGEN-> Kazara says, "More like 'lack of fashion' show. :p"

IGEN-> W'adru is quite guilty of that. Spent 4 hours writing up the desc on
that outfit, with the Pirates of Penzance as his motivation. Perfectly
Purple Poofy Pirate of Pernzance was his goal. Instead, He's M C Wally. :p

Lanisa's look up at W'adru is sidelong, after giving the pants a good look
and chuckling over them, "Trend setter, are you? Perhaps I should be
seaking fashion advice then, eh? Though aye, the does look a good place for
the pouch." She considers for a bit more and then says on, "You know, I
have something I was going to have you'll look at tomorrow, but tonight
might be better, considering all the fuss, if it's getting to be too much
that is?"

IGEN-> R'yki finishes changing his desc, "Thank you all for the nifty
gifts. They're awesome."

Kassima doesn't take her attention entirely from the new bronzerider, but
asks Sria, "Did he keep a supply? There's nay chance, is there, you'll stay
on with Igen? We'd be the richer for it. Bring M'rek with you, I'm sure the
kitchen can afford t'be smashed up a time or two."

A'deth gazes quietly up at the ex-Weyrlings, his attention staying longest
on W'adru. "I'm sure," he says softly to them, "That everyone's loved ones
will -- and would -- be as proud of you tonight as we are."

W'adru nods, he turns a smile to Kassima and nods in response to her
question. "Probably a good idea. Some fresh air would work wonders." he
chuckles.

W'adru nods at Ray. "I'm sure, Ray. You two have much to discuss." A warm
smile for his friend and he turns to Lanisa. "Let me guess, there's a heavy
barrel you need to have moved from one end of the bowl to the other just so
you can decide it looked better where it was to start with?" Gee, voice of
experience?

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did," Sria says. "But this was a gift, after
I was assistant weyrlingmaster for him. Amilin got a whip," she adds, as if
that's equally normal. The next makes her laugh: "I'll ask him about it,"
she says, as if it's that easy, but the compliment in there doesn't go
unnoticed: she smiles, tucks her chin a bit, then glances over at W'adru
again, then R'yki. "Congratulations again, -riders-," with emphasis borne
of self-correction. "We'll see each other soon."

R'yki grins and offers W'adru a pat, "Well, don't be afraid to seek me out,
okay? I'll be hanging around here for a few days but then I'm gonna go out
to the sea for a little while." And then he hears his name called, looking
over his shoulder. "I have to get going though, talk to you soon, okay,
W'adru?" And with that, the new rider is quickly running over to his
father, gifts in hand, and the two head out.

Lanisa laughs, "No. In this case, W'adru, nothing to move that you don't
want to. It's not a favor for me, really... Shall we step out though, and
I'll tell you where it's not apt to cause a mad rush I can't deal with all
at once, eh?" She gestures with that back towards the main  entrance.

W'adru nods, the smile he built up fading as he turns his back to the
others. He moves towards the bowl...

W'adru walks out to the Bowl.

Lanisa walks out to the Bowl.

R'yki walks out to the Bowl.

"So the idea is that Assistant Weyrlingmasters rate whips. I feel suddenly
shorted," Kassima laughs, trying to look sad and just not able. "Do! 'Twill
throw in alcohol, if'n that helps tempt him or you. They look so different
now," she adds in an entirely different tone. "Riders, indeed."

IGEN-> R'yki says, "thanks for all the gifts again, I had a lot of fun ^^."

"Couldn't've been better prepared," A'deth states firmly, "For their new
responsibilities." And he lifts his glass to the weyrlingmasters.

IGEN-> Lanisa snugs :)

"Oh, you won't for long," Sria says, clearly - perhaps - kidding. "'If,'"
she scoffs. "That's just underhanded, bribing M'rek like that." Her aspect
turns, as well, as she agrees - even without another look - "Don't they.
Odd how that happens."

Sria slants her smile to A'deth, nodding her head in thanks. "You're too
kind, sir."

Kassima colors, and her grin's a mixture of proud and sheepish. "Sria's
mostly t'credit, methinks. Keeping even Ashryl in line. Mostly... I can't
wait t'find out the story of tonight. What's bothering Wall, too." She
frows a little. "Although i'truth, I suppose 'tis nay longer m'proper
business. All this time working with me, Sria, and you only now find out
I'm conniving and bribetastic?"

"No. It's been our privilege to have you." And A'deth inclines his head to
her, not quite a bow. "It's been said before, but it must be repeated.
Thank you for your exceptional efforts. Though-- I will also give Kassima
her due, and we're privileged to have her now, too."

Sria waves a hand at the praise, smiling. "Thank you. I think Wall said
something about his press? She was late to begin with. And no, I suppose
it's not a new discovery, but playing to his weak points - tsk." She
pauses, then, "As to Wall, maybe it's as simple as all this: graduation,
the end of two long turns. I remember being a little emotionally
conflicted, though it didn't kick in until a day or two after graduation."

"If'n the alcohol doesn't work, I could offer t'fight him," Kassima offers,
perhaps more entertained than serious now. "Get drunk *and* break
somebody's nose. Igen would thank me if'n it secured you two. Were you?"
It's a thought she hadn't had. She looks thoughtfully at Sria, then A'deth.
"Did you feel that way too? I only remember being happy." She'll smile for
her due, or what he graciously believes as such, and sip her wine to keep
the redness at bay.

"I was regretful for not having family there," A'deth admits quietly, "But
pleased that I'd found my proper place. I know what W'adru's had a
difficult time of it, regarding his family... perhaps that's why he's so
solemn? But I don't know. I could be completely wrong."

Sria grins. "I'm sure he'll find both options very tempting," she assures,
then nods. "I was. Happy, too - deliriously happy - but then, it was the
end of one thing and the start of a whole other. I'd never so much as had a
bedroom to myself, all of a sudden I had a whole weyr. It's a new life."
She stops, and after a moment spent on altogether separate thoughts:
"Perhaps," she considers, upon A'deth's words. "And R'yki's father was
there, I think. Might not have helped Wall, if that was it."

Kassima's nod is slow and thoughtful. "That man with R'yki was his father,
methinks. I don't believe any of m'group had family present. Mayhaps,
because none of us did, none of us felt the lack." A second nod to Sria,
who's reached the same conclusion. "I didn't know that of him either--we've
never spoken of his kin. I doubt you're wrong," she tells A'deth. "You've a
talent for that kind of insight." Back to Sria: "'Twas still so relieved
and half-disbelieving, and proud, I hadn't much room for aught else. Where
is it 'twere from?"

A'deth nods to them both. And murmurs, "It was V'lien and his son who took
an interest in W'adru when he came to Igen; and it's to that strict example
which he aspires. I think that it will sort itself out, but I'll look into
how he's doing-- later. No sense in dragging confessions out of anyone on
their graduation night."

"Tillek area," Sria says. "Not far from the main Hold. But Jos, you know -"
she looks around, to see if the Weyrwoman's still about, but apparently to
no avail. "Sruth and Lhia are clutchmates. We'd been candidates, weyrlings
together. All the more changes, so I imagine that was an added factor. A
welcome one, at the time." She nods to A'deth, "Agreed. With any luck
they've all had far too many drinks to remember, anyway."

Kassima shakes her head; not denial of the point, only, "I don't know
either man much t'speak of," she admits. "V'lien's Terrilia's weyrmate,
a'course. Wall's in good hands if'n 'twill look out for his interests.
Graduation night's for being drunk and silly and giddy if'n you can be
managing, as I hope he can." With her glass mostly emptied again she picks
up the 'skin and gives it a testing slosh. Full enough, so she offers
refills around. "I remember the Hatching. Graduating and life as riders
doesn't seem t'have made you less close?"

"Who knows, maybe Ashryl will have learned her lesson." The unsaid words
from Sria's lips are something along the lines of 'fat chance.' "I imagine
she wouldn't mind looking after his interests, if she ever admits to the
notion." Sria pushes her glass, not empty but close, towards the jiggled
'skin. "You do? Imagine that." She laughs a little, shaking her head,
"Isn't that the question. No - it's hard to tell what was life at the weyr
and what was growing up along the way, but if anything, I think we're closer."

"V'lien is a son of Celie, who used to be Igen's Weyrsecond," A'deth
explains to Kassima. "Quite a few Turns ago. She's a strict and exacting
woman -- though she asks just as much of herself -- and her son holds to
the same principles-- it was he who chastized a weyrling for
insubordination, some months ago. W'adru could not have had a better
mentor, and I will make sure to mention what we've seen tonight to  him."

"And the sun will crack open and give birth t'ten thousand one-footed
wherries." Kassima's willing to say it, or some variant thereof. "She
surely wouldn't. He, methinks, would. 'Twas a comfort, I warrant, for
her--Josilina--t'be having you there when she made senior so suddenly." The
memory still brings the quieting of regret. "I've run into Celie once or
twice. I recall you mentioning the incident... if'n he's done W'adru a
service, 'tis well." She fills Sria's glass almost to its brim, and her own
likewise, which does in the wineskin, so she rises to get another; but asks
first, "You--I remember you saying far back when you joined the Traders,
A'deth. While I'm asking histories, how'd you get from there t'Fort?"

"I was Searched." As simple as that. A'deth shrugs one shoulder; the other
he keeps still, for a tiny golden queen sleeps in the pocket of his shirt,
and to wake her would undoubtedly mean feedings and pettings and
reassurances and whatnot.

Sria grins, "One-footed wherries, something like that." She quiets, too,
just nods. "Perhaps. I think at that point, we'd moved beyond that somehow
- " she pauses, considers, but ultimately abandons ship, and raises her
now-full glass to her lips. "Searched. That would do it."

Kassima inclines her head, accepting the simple answer for, if not what it
is, what she's going to get without more prying than she's inclined
towards. She drifts off to the depleted wine supply, pausing en route to
nudge Sh'sen with a slipper and wake him from his happy, drunken,
floor-sprawled stupor. He's only had four glasses of wine, that's the sad
thing. "Did Matheny recover?" Kassi sets a fresh 'skin on the table. "I
didn't hear the details. But I wondered."

A'deth nods to them both, quite cheerful. "Face sizzling death every few
days, or be an accountant for the rest of my life? The choice was obvious."

Sria eyes Sh'sen, chuckles a little. "I can -hear- Ennevai rolling her eyes
at him," she says. Then: "Never one hundred percent, but close. She's still
Math. I'll tell her you asked, if I manage to catch up with her someday."

"Naturally," Kassima shudders. "Unless you're m'son, who actually chose and
pursued a life of math. Someday he's going t'send me an invitation to the
handfasting of him and his abacus. Will you?" She flashes Sria a smile.
"Thankee. Another I never knew well, but I met her a few times, and she was
known t'be a wonderful Weyrwoman for the 'Reaches."

A'deth just shudders, too. "I'll be sure to send along my condolences." The
rest of the conversation, he listens to.

"I hear an abacus can make an excellent companion." Sria says.
"For...someone, I'm sure." She grins, nods: "Terrified of public speaking,
but wonderful all the same."

"It won't give me any grandchildren. Truth is, I can live with that."
Kassima leans back in her chair, comfortable and casual with the formality
all long done. "You know of what happened with Matheny?" she asks A'deth.
"I'm nay sure how widespread the details were. How'd she handle nights like
this one, then?"

A'deth shakes his head. "I don't know."

Sria smiles. "She got used to it after awhile, and then, as I recall,
rushed through whenever possible. -- I'm not sure, either, really, how far
the details traveled. It was hectic for a long period of time, there. I
know I didn't leave 'Reaches too often." For A'deth, "Matheny had to step
down from senior rather suddenly - there was an accident involving a
crossbow bolt." She attempts to make that sound positively regular.

Kassima snorts, shaking her head at Sria's phrasing. "'Accident.' In a
sense, I suppose. The bolt wasn't supposed t'hit *her*." A grimace. "And
that's another thing I never heard. Did they find and take care of whoever
did it?"

A'deth frowns faintly, but offers no comment-- instead, he lets Sria
continue without interruption.

Sria's mouth twists, and she takes another drink. "Not as such, that I
heard about. There's a chance it was handled privately," and something
about that phrasing is very dark, "but last I knew, there were a few
suspects, and no conclusions. And there were enough people trying very hard
- too hard, in some cases - to find out." She pauses. "It was a long time
ago, now."

"Handling that privately," Kassima murmurs, swirling the wine in her glass,
"would mayhaps nay be such a strain on the soul as some things. It always
came back to the Sandbar. Long and long--but never caught--so," she
suggests, glancing wryly between them, "there's more reason than one
'twould nay go drinking there."

"Odds are," A'deth murmurs, "The wretch was dumped on some inhospitable
island, and he'll have had his quarrels with Thread and no shelter instead."

Sria's chin is in her hand, now, to support all those thoughts written
across her face. "Cheers," she says to Kassi. "Now that you mention it, I
don't think I've been back to the Sandbar in all those Turns since." Then,
as if that disturbs her, "I ought to get out more."

Kassima cracks a grin, amused despite the subject at a mental image: "Nor
any green t'take him up in his swimming shorts. Entirely possible." She
raises her glass about an inch, tips it towards Sria in toast; cheers
indeed. "I haven't either. But that's hardly surprising. See, we do need
t'go to a bar, to Smithcraft, to anywhere else our hearts fancy with the
new riders, and make a party of it. You could get earrings too!" she
suggests grandly to both.

A'deth snorts softly at Kassima, but nods at her suggestion. And rises,
careful not to jostle his tiny companion. "A trip sounds splendid. Good
memories to treasure, and all that, while they're still giddy from their
graduation."

IGEN-> A'deth's migraine is just not letting up, so he needs to lie down. ><;

IGEN-> Kassima hugs A'deth lots. Bad migraine!

IGEN-> Sria says, "Feel better! I'm not long for this world either."

IGEN-> A'deth is going to pose out. WOn't leave y'all hanging.

Sria smiles. "New riders. And a party with earrings. What more do we need."
- "Actually, I can think of one thing, and he's insisting that I say
goodnight shortly." One can assume, or hope, she's talking about Sruth. The
weyrlingmaster (for another moment or two) brings her glass to her lips
again, then smiles, shaking her head. "New riders. They're really something."

"Even without them," Kassima muses, "we should go, any of us about and in
the mood when it strikes. You don't need an occasion t'step out and see a
bar. Only a schedule that allows a sore head the next day." Thus, odds are,
speaks the voice of experience. "D'you go?" she asks A'deth. "Take this
'skin with you, if'n you wish--White, 'tis, this time." A quick-flashed
smile for him, warm. "--Sruth at a party with earrings. There's a
conjunction of images... they are, and, d'you know? I'm going t'miss 'em."

A'deth takes the skin, and leans over to very gently kiss Kassima's cheek.
"Thank you. I go to mind the infirm, and not because I prefer it to the
pleasure of both your company. Good evening to the both of you." And he
straightens and strides away. "Whenever you wish to go drink, and now that
we've more time-- you know where to find me."

Sria grins. "Or at least a hearty constitution. Goodnight, A'deth. Thank
you. - Now, Kassi, I can't have you spreading rumors about my lifemate. He
wouldn't be caught dead in earrings at a party. Only at home." She grins,
then makes a face - perhaps reflective of Sruth's thoughts on the matter.
"Mmn, me too. And I'll miss Igen, assuming I get myself packed sometime in
the near future." But back to A'deth's form of saying goodbye, that kiss on
the cheek - or maybe the other day's licking - Sria asks, "Is this a recent
development, then, or just newly out in the open?"

A'deth enters the Infirmary.

IGEN-> A'deth watches the last few pose rounds, though, because he's nosy.
<3 z.z

IGEN-> Sria chuckles. It is a hard thing, when your character's being
talked about ;)

IGEN-> A'deth ;)

Kassima warms further for it, her expression becoming outright
affectionate. "G'deve," she says, as he goes; and, "Trust 'twill--there's
nay anyone else who can dance like you." She keeps that smile for awhile,
though when she turns back to Sria it shifts towards amused. "Now I'm
intrigued. What sort of earrings? He'd look amazing in silver and
carnelians. I know why you'd go home," more seriously. "If'n you change
your mind, though. I'm nay the Weyrleaders, but call it a hunch: you'd be
welcome." Dragons in earrings, licking--this conversation has some surreal
inspiration behind it. "Oh, nay, I've always had lovely greenrider men
licking m'face. You just never noticed 'til now," Kassi deadpans. "Recent.
He's shameless, and a reprobate, and a very fine man."

IGEN-> A'deth says, "Gosh. *^^*"

IGEN-> Kassima mwahs. See what nosiness gets you? ;)

IGEN-> A'deth swoons.

Sria laughs, "Well, who doesn't. Though you know, I've had the worst luck
with the greenriding men. Barely two in all my life have I ever had licking
my face. I've always done better with brown and blue." - "Sruth may
actually refuse to take me up to the ledge if I continue this conversation,
so I will tell you only that rubies would be magnificent next to his hide,
but he is of course not the earring type. And I thank you," she says. "But
I do miss Reaches, too. That's the trouble with making more than one home
for yourself." She grins, too, for the description: "Somehow I find those
three in combination to be very appealing."

Kassima makes an amused sound, starts ticking off fingers silently. "Huh.
Nary a brownrider ever. Bronze and green seem m'better colors, but two of
the green, y'know, drunken anomalies. I still have nay idea how the thing
with J'lyn happened. Oh, well--should he want t'borrow these bangles
sometime, he's of course welcome." She twists her wrists to make the rubies
sparkle. "Aye... I know. 'Twill miss Benden until I return, even so kind as
Igen's been. Why am I nay in the *least* surprised?"

Kassima appends, "Nay counting flights, a'course, because--flights." She
flicks her fingers.

"Well, bronzeriders, that's a different category. One of them, anyway." And
for the last, Sria grins. "Ah, perhaps we've similar taste, after all." -
"Flights, yes, though not all flights must include cheek-licking." She
amends, "At least, in my experience, there's no absolute parallel there.
But then, Sruth's not caught Lysseth, so I should hardly dare to suppose."
This is how rumors get started.

"*Oh*. We're talking strictly of face licking. A'deth's the only man who's
ever licked m'face in the Living Cavern," Kassi brightly volunteers. "This
is where I'd ask, 'what of you,' but when you're comparing cheek lick
tallies y'know your conversation's gone very wrong somewhere. I'd nay be in
the least surprised about that, either," of taste, at once wry and amused.
"I don't generally remember flights that well. If'n there's been
cheek-licking, the world may never know."

IGEN-> Kassima says, "There's a Tootsie Pop joke begging to be made here
somewhere."

IGEN-> Sria says, "There really is. But I'm not going there ;)"

IGEN-> Kassima says, "Nor I. ;)"

"Well, if we're talking of general acquaintance," though chances are that's
not exactly what Sria means, "my answer might be a bit different. And of
face-licking in the -living cavern-, I believe you've quite won. But if
M'rek ever takes it upon himself to change that, I'm blaming you for
revealing this conversation to him." She pauses, "As for flights, that's
much too difficult to keep track of past the first few, memory or not." -
"Wouldn't you? I suppose I've not thought about it much, my taste."

Kassima waves a hand vaguely. "Depends on what you mean by acquaintance.
'Twas thinking of liaisons of all sorts save Lysseth's flights. If'n we're
speaking of random people we know, I don't believe any of 'em have licked
m'cheek either." She's having trouble keeping that airily nonchalant
expression. Her eyes dance too much. "Y'know I'm going t'have t'be doing
that now. Matter of principle. 'Twouldn't--you've the taste t'be
appreciating M'rek, and shameless, fine reprobates. Granted," she allows,
"I couldn't guess your greenriders. Mayhaps I'd change m'mind."

"Six of one, half dozen of the other," Sria replies, for reprobates and
M'rek. "And I could hardly come up with them, myself, at this point, since
I've finished that enormous glass of wine you poured me, and Sruth's gotten
as close as he gets to shrill." Which is something along the lines of a
slightly higher register of bass, perhaps. "So I'll say goodnight, and I'm
going to ignore the bit about you promising to do such a thing. You know
he'd rise to it, so let's just pretend it's all been said and done
and...licked. There. Now everyone's satisfied." Fictional and reality-based
cheek lickings all. She's laughing, now: "Goodnight, Kassima. I'll see you
soon."

"This," Kassima says through snickers she can't repress anymore, "this is
me, refraining from comment on what all has been said and done and licked,
for which you can thank me. Faranth's fecund femur. Methinks I should also
make m'escape, before I get into a conversation even more strange." Her
wine's easily finished, only a gulp left, and she salutes Sria with the
glass before rising to leave herself. "G'deve, Sria--clear skies until you
do, and apologies t'Sruth for all this indignity."

Sria walks out to the Bowl.

You walk out into the Bowl.