[Log] Appreciation, Appreciated
Who: Carobet, C'mryn, Tiriana
When: Day 5, Month 1, Turn 18
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana meets a mindhealer, and Iovniath toys with Tausreth.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
Contents:
Carobet
C'mryn
Tausreth
Obvious exits:
Diving Cliff Lake Bowl
C'mryn
C'mryn's average height, weight, and distinctly bland features means he's usually overlooked among the crowd. He stands around five feet seven inches, with not much bulk on his gainly frame. His hair is an ashen brown, looking perpetually dusty. It's also perpetually in need of a trim. His eyes are a calm grey, pleasant and not very striking at all. If his accent didn't betray him, his pale skin would; C'mryn's is definitely from the northern parts of Pern.
Purposeful wherhide leathers, suitable for a colder climate. The undyed leather is marred by small scratches and scuffs, but has been oiled and kept in good condition. He wears a pair of sturdy boots on his feet, and a thick, wherhide belt. The knot of a High Reaches bronzerider rests on his shoulder.
C'mryn is 21 turns, 12 months, 10 days old.
Carobet
Carobet cannot be described as anything but nondescript: brown eyes, brown hair, average height, average build. But there is something in the way that each of these features work together that make Carobet herself anything but nondescript; striking is a better word. Her hair, far from mousy, is a rich chestnut brown, long and thick. Her eyes are framed by dark lashes and high-arched brows, often accented with kohl. She carries herself with a high, proud carriage that expresses confidence and no lack of self-assurance.
Her clothing does much to accent this outward persona: it is expensive, fashionable, and well tailored. A small number of finely made dresses are alternated between, accented with a myriad of bows, ribbons, and trimmings that help to assuage the fact that the way she would actually like to dress is beyond her means. Slippers made of a fine sisal adorn her feet, similarly decorated with various buckles.
Carobet takes in the scene-- the ice skaters, the playing dragons. And C'mryn. It's towards him she walks, inviting herself to a spot leaning against the same rock he does. She pulls away the scarf wrapped around her enough away so that, sans introduction, she can ask: "Aren't you /freezing/?"
There's a glance for his new company and C'mryn tells her, "Nope!" with a wide grin. "Get used to it after a while, when you spend most of your day out in it." Her over-bundling is noted with an arched eyebrow and he asks, "Not from around here, are you?" cheerfully. Tausreth, meanwhile, is teaching those weyrlings the proper way to shovel snow with one's nose. Just *so*.
Tausreth is not the only one weyrling-watching, but while Iovniath also lies by the frozen lake, a carefully arranged picture of serenity as she rests and watches Rielsath's offspring. Her rider's with her, nominally; really, Tiriana's more stomping around in the snow herself, leaving big swathes of footprints and scuffmarks as she wanders further from the dragon's side, more over to where C'mryn and now Carobet are.
"You promise?" Carobet asks, voice hopeful. And as if answering his question, she shivers slightly, burrowing hands within her muff. "Ista. Born and raised. Spent some time at Fort. But it's not /this/ cold." The playing dragons catch her eye momentarily, long enough for her to ask, "Do you belong to him?" and to grin at Tausreth's antics. But then Tiriana, stomping in their direction, catches her attention. Well, here's someone used to dealing with snow.
Another wide grin. "It've been told Telgar is colder, but High Reaches' winter is longer." C'mryn glances towards Tausreth, and nods his head. "Yup. I'm his rider. Tausreth. Oh, well, that's the dragon. I'm C'mryn, or Cam. Assistant weyrlingmaster," and then Tiriana is spotted, shuffling along. An eyebrow arches, but C'mryn just shrugs. "From Ista? My. That's quite a change! What brought you here?"
Telgar? That place name catches Tiriana's attention, and she swings her head around sharply to fix a look on C'mryn and Carobet. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she calls, "Telgar's /tons/ colder than this. This is nothing. Not even as bad as Fort, either." And she nods firmly on that as she turns to trek over, wading through the snow to meet the pair. While C'mryn earns a brief nod of greeting, it's Carobet that gains most of the goldrider's attention in an appraising look that comes up not impressed. "Istans."
"Telgar-- can't say I've been there. But if it's colder than here..." Carobet laughs, shrugging slightly. "Good to meet you, C'mryn, sir. I'm an apprentice Healer, recently posted. So that's how I came to be here... somewhat apprehensive of facing a long winter." As Tiriana approaches, then looks her over appraisingly, Carobet seems nonplussed, simply smiling back. "Yes, Istans. What about us?"
"S'where I'm-" wait, "We-" and he motions at Tiriana, "Are from." And another glance for Tiriana, though he simply shrugs a shoulder and just grins. "Ahh, Healer! Well, we can always use a new Healer, even an apprentice one." His hands are stuffed into his pockets, but he seems at ease in the cold as he would in the Living Caverns. "I take it the stay in Fort was Healer Hall?" And then, "Hello, Tiriana. Good day I trust?"
Tiriana doesn't so much answer Carobet's question as just give her a look, disdainful; this is reply enough, apparently, because she turns back to C'mryn. "I'm from Ierne, really," she corrects him with a sniff. "Not Telgar. And--it's all right." That comment on her day comes with a glance back over her shoulder at Iovniath, the gold who's now turning her attention politely to her rider's company.
Dragon> Frost settles around Tausreth's mind, much as it has over the Weyr, when Iovniath reaches out to him. << Tausreth, >> she inflects the name companionably, for all her usual cool tones. << Tausreth, you are well, and yours? Your charges progress well. >> (Iovniath to Tausreth)
Dragon> A flicker of attention, amusement holding over from his weyrling-related game. << Iovniath, >> he answers, cheerfully companionable in return, as unaffected by frost as his rider, it seems. << We are well. And they are well. 'Growing', says C'mryn. Learning. Playing. >> And his mind swells with pride for the little dragons that look to him. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"Well, I do hope I can be of service to the Weyr," Carobet says to C'mryn. "And yes, it was at the Hall. Cold winters there, too, of course. But I never adjusted. Stayed close to the hearth." Tiriana's glance towards Iovniath draws Carobet's attention, and she asks carefully, sweetly, "Are you hers, ma'am?" Perhaps otherwise, there would have been a sharp remark at her low opinion of Istans, but-- smartly-- tactics change, rank is determined first.
"One more pair of hands rolling bandages and stewing numbweed is one more reason that I can stay out of it," decides C'mryn. "Idle hands are idle hands around here, gotta be quick and look busy!" Like now. See how busy he is, holding up this rock? "Mm, good to hear it," decides Cam of Tiriana's day, ignoring her 'Ierne' origins. "Can't be too bad, doing whatever you weyrwomen do. Better than jogging through the snow for drills, yeah?" Smile.
Dragon> To Tausreth, Iovniath echoes that pride in her own voice; pride in weyrlings for her Weyr, even if she has no role in their making herself. Glittering like glass, intricate patterns of ice curl around her thoughts as she reaches out to the bronze. << I am glad to hear it, >> she tells him. << They grow well already. I'm glad to see you continue guiding them here; you will do as good a job with them as you have already with us. >> Her mind flickers, briefly, with images of her clutchmates, hazy shapes but colors brilliant in the reflection, a contrast to her own white.
Tiriana snorts at C'mryn's words, shaking her head. "Rather do that," she tells him, scowling. "Better than sitting cooped up inside with records and lists and all that all day. Anyway, Satiet still goes jogging around in the morning. Before dawn, even--I go with her." A funny thing to be proud about, but Tiriana still puffs up over it. That, and Carobet's question. Lifting her chin smugly, Tiriana says, "Yes, she's mine. Iovniath."
Dragon> Playful sunlight dances through those glittering fragments as the bronze amuses himself. << Hmm, >> is his answer, along with vague confusion before searching his 'mate's mind. And then, in stark relief, a young blue. His representation of that class. << C'mryn was pleased, as well. And is proud to help with this group. She, >> A young, boney green, << Appreciates us, as well. >> Or, his thoughts imply, he hopes. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"She's lovely," Carobet says of Iovniath, as if her question was asked so that a compliment could be directed, and had no ulterior motive-- of course not! "But then, that's the nature of queens, isn't it?" To Cam, she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, laughing. "Oh, bandages! And numbweed. Numbweed's the worst. I could regale you with stories. When it spills... well, I'm sure you can imagine. Or don't have to."
Dragon> << Does she, >> Iovniath is faintly bemused, sparks of light striking from her mind as she tucks away that image behind glass. << I am sure more than just the one appreciate you, though. Did I not just tell you I did? >> Such an innocuous question, but the haphazard sparkling of her thoughts contracts into a gleam, playfulness turning arch. (Iovniath to Tausreth)
"*Do* you?" wonders C'mryn, raising both eyebrows and giving Tiriana a mildly impressed sort of expression. "Well. Good for you. Good to stay active, if all you do is sit around and flip through hides." A sympathetic sort of look, though there's a twinkle in his eye. Soon, he's grinning at Carobet. "Ah, I can definitely imagine. Spent a bit of time in the Infirmary a few Turns ago. No thanks. Think I'll stay far away unless a limb is threatening to fall off." A beat. "Is that what you're going to do? Reattach limbs? Or maybe you're the birthing-babies kind?"
"Yes. Why is that so hard to believe? I'm not lazy," Tiriana says, shooting a dark look C'mryn's way. She sniffs a little, less offended than she would like to be, although Carobet's latter question has her frown deepening. "Of course she does," the goldrider says at once, even as her eyes narrow suspiciously. Is that a trick question? She glances to C'mryn to see if he can interpret, but he's talking about babies, and Tiriana just makes a disgusted sound. "Think we already got one of those."
Dragon> << Did you? >> wonders Tausreth. And quite suddenly, she's got most of his attention, full force of his mind attuned to her words and emotions while he leaves a meager connection for the weyrlings. There's a teetering of emotions as he tries to puzzle out a decent answer, and finally Tausreth settles on, << Your appreciation is... appreciated, >> and there's mirth at his own use of the word, a little bit of boasting. << And I must say, I *did* do a good job on you, didn't I? >> because suddenly Tausreth can remember that far back, mmhm. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
Carobet shakes her head no, with surprising vigor. "Don't worry. I'm not assisting the growth of the Weyr's population. I'm a mindhealer." A beat. "I keep telling them my patients won't use up the bandages I'm rolling, but apparently that doesn't matter." She shivers again, and this apparently signifies enough cold for the Istan. "Think I'd better go warm myself before I turn into an icicle. It was good to meet you, Sir, Ma'am." And her pace is notably brisk as she heads back towards warmth.
Dragon> To Tausreth, Iovniath's mind echoes with crystalline laughter, and she confirms, << I did. >> But for his appreciation in return, she brushes against him with something softer, a hint of snow-dusted fur that swirls into fog almost as quickly again. << You quite did, Tausreth. >>
Carobet goes home.
Carobet has left.
Cam doesn't seem to hold any answers. He's just his usual, cheerful self. "Well, good to know! Though... I'm not likely to need a mindhealer either. Mind's fine," he decides all too cheerfully. "Have a good afternoon, then," and she's gone before he can make any other suggestions. A little shrug, and he turns to Tiriana. "S'not that I think you're lazy. S'just that I didn't peg you as the outdoor-running type." An idle shrug. "Maybe swimming. Or skating," and he bobs his head towards those brave folks still toughing it out on the lake. "But running? Sorry. Might have seen it before, but I still find it hard to picture you sweating."
She's a-- "Wait, what?" Tiriana blinks at Carobet, brows furrowing up; but the girl is gone almost too quickly, leaving Tiriana to stare after her and then to C'mryn. "What do we need a mindhealer for?" she asks him. For the moment, she shakes off his latter questions, still pursing her lips after Carobet. But eventually, she has to turn back to the bronzerider. "I sweat fine. Plenty," she protests. "I like /doing/ stuff. It's not as fun when it's just... pointless, though. Going in circles. Except it's not so bad with Satiet, even at Faranth-forsaken pre-dawn." Athletic she might be, and not nearly so late a sleeper as some, but pre-dawn is apparently pushing it even for her.
Dragon> There's a teetering of Tausreth's mind that he attempts to hide behind amusement and smugness. A roll of that snow, a playfull toss of it in his mind and the itch to roll. But he refrains, though his talons flex in the snow around his feet. But he seems to have no reply, just mirth and a bit more confusion for the gold. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"I'm sure you do," says C'mryn of sweating, fighting a bit of a laugh. "Running is usually pointless," muses Cam. "Unless you're chasing someone, or being chased. Reason to run, then." But his amusement fades and Cam's suddenly pushing away from the rock, a sterner expression on his face. "Tausreth!" he calls aloud, even as the bronze is swinging his head around. Oh. Whoops. Supposed to be watching Weyrlings... "Enjoy your afternoon," says Cam hastily to Tiriana, before he's speed-walking to Tausreth's group of weyrlings to break up what could quickly turn into a brawl.
"I chase, not get chased," agrees Tiriana with a nod, though C'mryn's sudden yell has her glancing around at the weyrlings again, frowning. She looks a little put out for being abandoned so quickly, even for weyrlings; but Iovniath only looks faintly smug as she rises gracefully and turns to saunter off back toward her weyr's ledge.
When: Day 5, Month 1, Turn 18
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana meets a mindhealer, and Iovniath toys with Tausreth.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
Contents:
Carobet
C'mryn
Tausreth
Obvious exits:
Diving Cliff Lake Bowl
C'mryn
C'mryn's average height, weight, and distinctly bland features means he's usually overlooked among the crowd. He stands around five feet seven inches, with not much bulk on his gainly frame. His hair is an ashen brown, looking perpetually dusty. It's also perpetually in need of a trim. His eyes are a calm grey, pleasant and not very striking at all. If his accent didn't betray him, his pale skin would; C'mryn's is definitely from the northern parts of Pern.
Purposeful wherhide leathers, suitable for a colder climate. The undyed leather is marred by small scratches and scuffs, but has been oiled and kept in good condition. He wears a pair of sturdy boots on his feet, and a thick, wherhide belt. The knot of a High Reaches bronzerider rests on his shoulder.
C'mryn is 21 turns, 12 months, 10 days old.
Carobet
Carobet cannot be described as anything but nondescript: brown eyes, brown hair, average height, average build. But there is something in the way that each of these features work together that make Carobet herself anything but nondescript; striking is a better word. Her hair, far from mousy, is a rich chestnut brown, long and thick. Her eyes are framed by dark lashes and high-arched brows, often accented with kohl. She carries herself with a high, proud carriage that expresses confidence and no lack of self-assurance.
Her clothing does much to accent this outward persona: it is expensive, fashionable, and well tailored. A small number of finely made dresses are alternated between, accented with a myriad of bows, ribbons, and trimmings that help to assuage the fact that the way she would actually like to dress is beyond her means. Slippers made of a fine sisal adorn her feet, similarly decorated with various buckles.
Carobet takes in the scene-- the ice skaters, the playing dragons. And C'mryn. It's towards him she walks, inviting herself to a spot leaning against the same rock he does. She pulls away the scarf wrapped around her enough away so that, sans introduction, she can ask: "Aren't you /freezing/?"
There's a glance for his new company and C'mryn tells her, "Nope!" with a wide grin. "Get used to it after a while, when you spend most of your day out in it." Her over-bundling is noted with an arched eyebrow and he asks, "Not from around here, are you?" cheerfully. Tausreth, meanwhile, is teaching those weyrlings the proper way to shovel snow with one's nose. Just *so*.
Tausreth is not the only one weyrling-watching, but while Iovniath also lies by the frozen lake, a carefully arranged picture of serenity as she rests and watches Rielsath's offspring. Her rider's with her, nominally; really, Tiriana's more stomping around in the snow herself, leaving big swathes of footprints and scuffmarks as she wanders further from the dragon's side, more over to where C'mryn and now Carobet are.
"You promise?" Carobet asks, voice hopeful. And as if answering his question, she shivers slightly, burrowing hands within her muff. "Ista. Born and raised. Spent some time at Fort. But it's not /this/ cold." The playing dragons catch her eye momentarily, long enough for her to ask, "Do you belong to him?" and to grin at Tausreth's antics. But then Tiriana, stomping in their direction, catches her attention. Well, here's someone used to dealing with snow.
Another wide grin. "It've been told Telgar is colder, but High Reaches' winter is longer." C'mryn glances towards Tausreth, and nods his head. "Yup. I'm his rider. Tausreth. Oh, well, that's the dragon. I'm C'mryn, or Cam. Assistant weyrlingmaster," and then Tiriana is spotted, shuffling along. An eyebrow arches, but C'mryn just shrugs. "From Ista? My. That's quite a change! What brought you here?"
Telgar? That place name catches Tiriana's attention, and she swings her head around sharply to fix a look on C'mryn and Carobet. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she calls, "Telgar's /tons/ colder than this. This is nothing. Not even as bad as Fort, either." And she nods firmly on that as she turns to trek over, wading through the snow to meet the pair. While C'mryn earns a brief nod of greeting, it's Carobet that gains most of the goldrider's attention in an appraising look that comes up not impressed. "Istans."
"Telgar-- can't say I've been there. But if it's colder than here..." Carobet laughs, shrugging slightly. "Good to meet you, C'mryn, sir. I'm an apprentice Healer, recently posted. So that's how I came to be here... somewhat apprehensive of facing a long winter." As Tiriana approaches, then looks her over appraisingly, Carobet seems nonplussed, simply smiling back. "Yes, Istans. What about us?"
"S'where I'm-" wait, "We-" and he motions at Tiriana, "Are from." And another glance for Tiriana, though he simply shrugs a shoulder and just grins. "Ahh, Healer! Well, we can always use a new Healer, even an apprentice one." His hands are stuffed into his pockets, but he seems at ease in the cold as he would in the Living Caverns. "I take it the stay in Fort was Healer Hall?" And then, "Hello, Tiriana. Good day I trust?"
Tiriana doesn't so much answer Carobet's question as just give her a look, disdainful; this is reply enough, apparently, because she turns back to C'mryn. "I'm from Ierne, really," she corrects him with a sniff. "Not Telgar. And--it's all right." That comment on her day comes with a glance back over her shoulder at Iovniath, the gold who's now turning her attention politely to her rider's company.
Dragon> Frost settles around Tausreth's mind, much as it has over the Weyr, when Iovniath reaches out to him. << Tausreth, >> she inflects the name companionably, for all her usual cool tones. << Tausreth, you are well, and yours? Your charges progress well. >> (Iovniath to Tausreth)
Dragon> A flicker of attention, amusement holding over from his weyrling-related game. << Iovniath, >> he answers, cheerfully companionable in return, as unaffected by frost as his rider, it seems. << We are well. And they are well. 'Growing', says C'mryn. Learning. Playing. >> And his mind swells with pride for the little dragons that look to him. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"Well, I do hope I can be of service to the Weyr," Carobet says to C'mryn. "And yes, it was at the Hall. Cold winters there, too, of course. But I never adjusted. Stayed close to the hearth." Tiriana's glance towards Iovniath draws Carobet's attention, and she asks carefully, sweetly, "Are you hers, ma'am?" Perhaps otherwise, there would have been a sharp remark at her low opinion of Istans, but-- smartly-- tactics change, rank is determined first.
"One more pair of hands rolling bandages and stewing numbweed is one more reason that I can stay out of it," decides C'mryn. "Idle hands are idle hands around here, gotta be quick and look busy!" Like now. See how busy he is, holding up this rock? "Mm, good to hear it," decides Cam of Tiriana's day, ignoring her 'Ierne' origins. "Can't be too bad, doing whatever you weyrwomen do. Better than jogging through the snow for drills, yeah?" Smile.
Dragon> To Tausreth, Iovniath echoes that pride in her own voice; pride in weyrlings for her Weyr, even if she has no role in their making herself. Glittering like glass, intricate patterns of ice curl around her thoughts as she reaches out to the bronze. << I am glad to hear it, >> she tells him. << They grow well already. I'm glad to see you continue guiding them here; you will do as good a job with them as you have already with us. >> Her mind flickers, briefly, with images of her clutchmates, hazy shapes but colors brilliant in the reflection, a contrast to her own white.
Tiriana snorts at C'mryn's words, shaking her head. "Rather do that," she tells him, scowling. "Better than sitting cooped up inside with records and lists and all that all day. Anyway, Satiet still goes jogging around in the morning. Before dawn, even--I go with her." A funny thing to be proud about, but Tiriana still puffs up over it. That, and Carobet's question. Lifting her chin smugly, Tiriana says, "Yes, she's mine. Iovniath."
Dragon> Playful sunlight dances through those glittering fragments as the bronze amuses himself. << Hmm, >> is his answer, along with vague confusion before searching his 'mate's mind. And then, in stark relief, a young blue. His representation of that class. << C'mryn was pleased, as well. And is proud to help with this group. She, >> A young, boney green, << Appreciates us, as well. >> Or, his thoughts imply, he hopes. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"She's lovely," Carobet says of Iovniath, as if her question was asked so that a compliment could be directed, and had no ulterior motive-- of course not! "But then, that's the nature of queens, isn't it?" To Cam, she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, laughing. "Oh, bandages! And numbweed. Numbweed's the worst. I could regale you with stories. When it spills... well, I'm sure you can imagine. Or don't have to."
Dragon> << Does she, >> Iovniath is faintly bemused, sparks of light striking from her mind as she tucks away that image behind glass. << I am sure more than just the one appreciate you, though. Did I not just tell you I did? >> Such an innocuous question, but the haphazard sparkling of her thoughts contracts into a gleam, playfulness turning arch. (Iovniath to Tausreth)
"*Do* you?" wonders C'mryn, raising both eyebrows and giving Tiriana a mildly impressed sort of expression. "Well. Good for you. Good to stay active, if all you do is sit around and flip through hides." A sympathetic sort of look, though there's a twinkle in his eye. Soon, he's grinning at Carobet. "Ah, I can definitely imagine. Spent a bit of time in the Infirmary a few Turns ago. No thanks. Think I'll stay far away unless a limb is threatening to fall off." A beat. "Is that what you're going to do? Reattach limbs? Or maybe you're the birthing-babies kind?"
"Yes. Why is that so hard to believe? I'm not lazy," Tiriana says, shooting a dark look C'mryn's way. She sniffs a little, less offended than she would like to be, although Carobet's latter question has her frown deepening. "Of course she does," the goldrider says at once, even as her eyes narrow suspiciously. Is that a trick question? She glances to C'mryn to see if he can interpret, but he's talking about babies, and Tiriana just makes a disgusted sound. "Think we already got one of those."
Dragon> << Did you? >> wonders Tausreth. And quite suddenly, she's got most of his attention, full force of his mind attuned to her words and emotions while he leaves a meager connection for the weyrlings. There's a teetering of emotions as he tries to puzzle out a decent answer, and finally Tausreth settles on, << Your appreciation is... appreciated, >> and there's mirth at his own use of the word, a little bit of boasting. << And I must say, I *did* do a good job on you, didn't I? >> because suddenly Tausreth can remember that far back, mmhm. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
Carobet shakes her head no, with surprising vigor. "Don't worry. I'm not assisting the growth of the Weyr's population. I'm a mindhealer." A beat. "I keep telling them my patients won't use up the bandages I'm rolling, but apparently that doesn't matter." She shivers again, and this apparently signifies enough cold for the Istan. "Think I'd better go warm myself before I turn into an icicle. It was good to meet you, Sir, Ma'am." And her pace is notably brisk as she heads back towards warmth.
Dragon> To Tausreth, Iovniath's mind echoes with crystalline laughter, and she confirms, << I did. >> But for his appreciation in return, she brushes against him with something softer, a hint of snow-dusted fur that swirls into fog almost as quickly again. << You quite did, Tausreth. >>
Carobet goes home.
Carobet has left.
Cam doesn't seem to hold any answers. He's just his usual, cheerful self. "Well, good to know! Though... I'm not likely to need a mindhealer either. Mind's fine," he decides all too cheerfully. "Have a good afternoon, then," and she's gone before he can make any other suggestions. A little shrug, and he turns to Tiriana. "S'not that I think you're lazy. S'just that I didn't peg you as the outdoor-running type." An idle shrug. "Maybe swimming. Or skating," and he bobs his head towards those brave folks still toughing it out on the lake. "But running? Sorry. Might have seen it before, but I still find it hard to picture you sweating."
She's a-- "Wait, what?" Tiriana blinks at Carobet, brows furrowing up; but the girl is gone almost too quickly, leaving Tiriana to stare after her and then to C'mryn. "What do we need a mindhealer for?" she asks him. For the moment, she shakes off his latter questions, still pursing her lips after Carobet. But eventually, she has to turn back to the bronzerider. "I sweat fine. Plenty," she protests. "I like /doing/ stuff. It's not as fun when it's just... pointless, though. Going in circles. Except it's not so bad with Satiet, even at Faranth-forsaken pre-dawn." Athletic she might be, and not nearly so late a sleeper as some, but pre-dawn is apparently pushing it even for her.
Dragon> There's a teetering of Tausreth's mind that he attempts to hide behind amusement and smugness. A roll of that snow, a playfull toss of it in his mind and the itch to roll. But he refrains, though his talons flex in the snow around his feet. But he seems to have no reply, just mirth and a bit more confusion for the gold. (Tausreth to Iovniath)
"I'm sure you do," says C'mryn of sweating, fighting a bit of a laugh. "Running is usually pointless," muses Cam. "Unless you're chasing someone, or being chased. Reason to run, then." But his amusement fades and Cam's suddenly pushing away from the rock, a sterner expression on his face. "Tausreth!" he calls aloud, even as the bronze is swinging his head around. Oh. Whoops. Supposed to be watching Weyrlings... "Enjoy your afternoon," says Cam hastily to Tiriana, before he's speed-walking to Tausreth's group of weyrlings to break up what could quickly turn into a brawl.
"I chase, not get chased," agrees Tiriana with a nod, though C'mryn's sudden yell has her glancing around at the weyrlings again, frowning. She looks a little put out for being abandoned so quickly, even for weyrlings; but Iovniath only looks faintly smug as she rises gracefully and turns to saunter off back toward her weyr's ledge.