Log: P'draig meets Persie and Sokaris
Who: P'draig, Sokaris, Persie
When: day 11, month 12, Turn 5 of the Tenth Interval.
Where: Hatching Gallery, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig delivers food for Piper and bumps into Persie and Sokaris.
Spectators' Gallery in the Hatching Ground(#958RIJa$)
The galleries in the Hatching Grounds stretch the length of the southern wall of the cavern. Broad sweeps of stone benches provide ample seating for spectators. Above and across from here are ledges where the dragons perch to welcome new eggs and hatchlings. From your vantage point, you can see everything that happens on the sands.
Stairs to the northwest, at the end of the galleries, lead back down to the entrance to the hatching grounds. The Hatching Ground sands spread out before you to the northeast, and are accessible by another set of stairs to the north.
P'draig enters the Hatching cavern and approaches the area where Piper has set up camp most of the time. He leaves a basket there, neatly covered over, though he's also careful not to step on the Sands themselves. He straightens, and props a hand on each hip, stretching from side to side and casting a long look out over at the eggs.
Sokaris glances up at the greeting, that frown of his dissolving into a broad grin, "Well, hello, there.", he drawls, scooting over a bit as Persie takes a seat near him. "Come to admire the eggs on this /lovely/ evening?" P'draig's arrival is caught from the corner of his eye and he leans a bit to call a similar, "Hello!" to the brownrider. "How are y'all doing?"
"I have," Persie replies, letting her grin grow a bit brighter to see the young man snap out of his reverie so quickly and completely. "I came out for a gander when I first got here, but they look a little different now, ya know?" His turn towards the arriving P'draig shifts her attention towards the brownrider. "Hey there," she calls out.
P'draig's head swivels about as voices hail him from further up in the galleries and he squints thattaway, then starts climbing upward, in a very non-rushed fashion. "Well hey there," he says merrily. "Candidates?" he follows up with a question, and takes an even closer look at both young folks' shoulders. "I'm P'draig, brown Jekzith's," he introduces himself, finally reaching the two.
Sokaris
Sokaris is tall young man, with a body that's long-limbed, lean, and muscular. He's square-jawed and chisel-featured, with a broad nose and an expressive mouth. Equally expressive black eyebrows arch over almond-shaped, slightly tilted, dark brown eyes that often glitter with amusement. His hair is black, waist-length, and has been braided and tied off with a length of brown leather. The man is limber and flexible, with long fingers that are not only dextrous, but oddly feminine as well. Soka's skin is on the darker side, a rich tan due to good genetics, rather than any extensive time spent outdoors.
He's clad in a sleeveless tunic of rich burgundy, with sienna and goldenrod embroidery at the neckline, hem, and down the front, around the toggles that keep the shirt closed. His trousers are made of dark brown cloth, the legs flaring at the bottom to accomodate his boots; the pants are kept in place by virtue of a broad, leather belt with a copper buckle. A well-fitted leather jacket, the same colour as his pants, completes the loosely arranged ensemble. On his shoulder is a simple knot, indicating that he's a candidate at Fort Weyr.
Persie
Persie is a skinny, lanky girl, all bones and angles. Her build gives the impression of gawkiness, but instead, there is an ease to her movement, fluid, almost loose. She's a pale sort, with smooth blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. Large eyes and fine bones would give her a doll-like look, but the effect is marred by a prominent, sloped and sharp nose. She looks to be in her mid-teens at most.
What little figure she has is revealed by the tight burnt orange sweater, stripes of green about the chest, collar and cuffs. Rugged brown trousers hug long, thin legs, accentuated by the heavy boots that disappear beneath the frayed material at her ankles.
Sokaris's really just a grinning fool, when one gets down to it. His cards vanish into a pocket, his hands staying put for the time being. He's facing Persie when he drawls, "Well! Name's Sokaris, but people call me Soka from time to time. What's your name, darlin'?" P'draig's introduction elicits another grin and a friendly, "Ah, such a pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard your name here and there, but never had a chance to put a face to a name."
"Soka?" Persie repeats with a quirk to her lips and a wrinkle to her prominent nose. "That sort sounds like a girl's name." But she offers her hand just the same and forgets to introduce herself. For P'draig she just smiles, takes a moment to flick her glance over his person, and then smiles even more.
"Well met Soka," replies P'draig and his lips quirk upwards with further amusement. "Oh? Someone taking my name in vain then?" Persie's smile is returned with a friendly one of his own, one booted foot set on the next row of seats.
Sokaris gives his head a small shake, his tone growing amused, "Well, darlin', you can thank my sisters for that particular, ah, nickname." And since Persie doesn't give her name and hasn't slapped him, he's more than willing to return the hand gesture of greeting /and/ keep calling her 'darlin'. His dark eyes flick back to P'draig and he shakes his head again, "Never anything /bad/, sir, just your name and that's about it, I'm afraid. Although, if I recall correctly, Theron mentioned that it was you and yours that searched him."
Despite all the smiles and the easy gestures and the 'darlin', Persie starts to look a little troubled. "I'm never going to remember so many names," she grumbles to herself, shifting in her seat to better face both her new companions.
"Ah yes, Theron, yep, we picked him up, Jek and I did," agrees the brownrider with a broad grin, gray-blue eyes sliding Persie's way. "Figured out a trick yet for holding 'em all in your head?" he suggests, head lifting a little as he addresses the blonde. "What's yours, if I may ask? So far I've met about a half-dozen Candidates, all at different times, doing different things and I can't quite place 'em all either, except Theron because ... well I brought him in!" There's a touch of pride in his voice as if the young rider is pleased that his dragon Searched someone.
Sokaris chuckles softly. "Theron's quite the /character/, I must admit. His accent takes a while to decipher at times, but he is, truly, an interesting fellow.", not that Soka's own heavy Bitran accent is /much/ better. His eyebrows knit as he glances back in Persie's direction. "Don't you worry, now; by the time those eggs start to show their true colours, you'll know everyone by name. It just takes a little getting used to, y'hear?"
"I don't know..." Persie says, doubtful of tricks or her ability. "There are so many people and then everyone has a nickname and there are all these dragons.. Who's Theron? Is he the one with the..." she makes a vague gesture towards her face, apparently meaning that Theron has one also. And as for P'draig's request for her name, she seems to have missed it in the worry of remembering everyone else's.
"Well, unless you Impress, try not to worry about the dragon names too much. Beyond y'know, the Weyrleader, Weyrwoman, Piper and T'bay's. Need reminders on those?" teases P'draig gently enough, then lifts his brows Sokaris' way. "Is he? Huh. He seemed like a regular enough lad to me, but I've not spent all that much time with him. He pull extra heavy duty or something?" Paddy looks down at a scattering of grains of Sand loosely spread along the step not far from where his booted foot rests. "Well, sometimes, I try to link people up by something they have in common, or something that sticks out about them that also brings the name to mind."
Sokaris inclines his head to Persie, still smiling. "You could always try and take notes, if that's easier for you to do. I tend to remember faces." One shoulder lifts in a lopsided shrug, the young man rising to his feet. He glances at P'draig, observing, "Well, he's got some /interesting/ stories to tell, for one. And he's utterly impossible to corrupt, I believe. He and I had a fascinating discussion just the other day ab-", and here, he's cut off -- perhaps for the better -- by someone bellowing his name. With a sigh, the young man turns and heads out, drawling a, "'Twas a pleasure!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.
Persie wrinkles her nose again, watching as Sokaris leaves. "I don't want to take notes," she says. "It's just a lot of names at once, ya know?" She lets out a sigh. "And so far, I haven't learned anything about anyone, just a bunch of names and then more names and then more names, but nothing really about anyone."
P'draig laughs at Sokaris' remarks and nods a few times. "Uh ... huh ... well I'll bear that in mind." One hand lifts as the Candidate heads off and he turns back towards Persie. "That'd be a lot of notes, yep." P'draig considers for a moment then clears his throat. "Well, here's something about me, I used to be a Baker, I Stood twice, once with Piper and once with S'vin. Both my parents are riders and I'm from the Reaches. How's that?" The brownrider flashes another engaging grin and then slides his foot off the step. "I'll let you mull all that over, I've got to actually -find- Piper herself now and let her know her dinner's here. See you 'round!" And with that he shoves off.
When: day 11, month 12, Turn 5 of the Tenth Interval.
Where: Hatching Gallery, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig delivers food for Piper and bumps into Persie and Sokaris.
Spectators' Gallery in the Hatching Ground(#958RIJa$)
The galleries in the Hatching Grounds stretch the length of the southern wall of the cavern. Broad sweeps of stone benches provide ample seating for spectators. Above and across from here are ledges where the dragons perch to welcome new eggs and hatchlings. From your vantage point, you can see everything that happens on the sands.
Stairs to the northwest, at the end of the galleries, lead back down to the entrance to the hatching grounds. The Hatching Ground sands spread out before you to the northeast, and are accessible by another set of stairs to the north.
P'draig enters the Hatching cavern and approaches the area where Piper has set up camp most of the time. He leaves a basket there, neatly covered over, though he's also careful not to step on the Sands themselves. He straightens, and props a hand on each hip, stretching from side to side and casting a long look out over at the eggs.
Sokaris glances up at the greeting, that frown of his dissolving into a broad grin, "Well, hello, there.", he drawls, scooting over a bit as Persie takes a seat near him. "Come to admire the eggs on this /lovely/ evening?" P'draig's arrival is caught from the corner of his eye and he leans a bit to call a similar, "Hello!" to the brownrider. "How are y'all doing?"
"I have," Persie replies, letting her grin grow a bit brighter to see the young man snap out of his reverie so quickly and completely. "I came out for a gander when I first got here, but they look a little different now, ya know?" His turn towards the arriving P'draig shifts her attention towards the brownrider. "Hey there," she calls out.
P'draig's head swivels about as voices hail him from further up in the galleries and he squints thattaway, then starts climbing upward, in a very non-rushed fashion. "Well hey there," he says merrily. "Candidates?" he follows up with a question, and takes an even closer look at both young folks' shoulders. "I'm P'draig, brown Jekzith's," he introduces himself, finally reaching the two.
Sokaris
Sokaris is tall young man, with a body that's long-limbed, lean, and muscular. He's square-jawed and chisel-featured, with a broad nose and an expressive mouth. Equally expressive black eyebrows arch over almond-shaped, slightly tilted, dark brown eyes that often glitter with amusement. His hair is black, waist-length, and has been braided and tied off with a length of brown leather. The man is limber and flexible, with long fingers that are not only dextrous, but oddly feminine as well. Soka's skin is on the darker side, a rich tan due to good genetics, rather than any extensive time spent outdoors.
He's clad in a sleeveless tunic of rich burgundy, with sienna and goldenrod embroidery at the neckline, hem, and down the front, around the toggles that keep the shirt closed. His trousers are made of dark brown cloth, the legs flaring at the bottom to accomodate his boots; the pants are kept in place by virtue of a broad, leather belt with a copper buckle. A well-fitted leather jacket, the same colour as his pants, completes the loosely arranged ensemble. On his shoulder is a simple knot, indicating that he's a candidate at Fort Weyr.
Persie
Persie is a skinny, lanky girl, all bones and angles. Her build gives the impression of gawkiness, but instead, there is an ease to her movement, fluid, almost loose. She's a pale sort, with smooth blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. Large eyes and fine bones would give her a doll-like look, but the effect is marred by a prominent, sloped and sharp nose. She looks to be in her mid-teens at most.
What little figure she has is revealed by the tight burnt orange sweater, stripes of green about the chest, collar and cuffs. Rugged brown trousers hug long, thin legs, accentuated by the heavy boots that disappear beneath the frayed material at her ankles.
Sokaris's really just a grinning fool, when one gets down to it. His cards vanish into a pocket, his hands staying put for the time being. He's facing Persie when he drawls, "Well! Name's Sokaris, but people call me Soka from time to time. What's your name, darlin'?" P'draig's introduction elicits another grin and a friendly, "Ah, such a pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard your name here and there, but never had a chance to put a face to a name."
"Soka?" Persie repeats with a quirk to her lips and a wrinkle to her prominent nose. "That sort sounds like a girl's name." But she offers her hand just the same and forgets to introduce herself. For P'draig she just smiles, takes a moment to flick her glance over his person, and then smiles even more.
"Well met Soka," replies P'draig and his lips quirk upwards with further amusement. "Oh? Someone taking my name in vain then?" Persie's smile is returned with a friendly one of his own, one booted foot set on the next row of seats.
Sokaris gives his head a small shake, his tone growing amused, "Well, darlin', you can thank my sisters for that particular, ah, nickname." And since Persie doesn't give her name and hasn't slapped him, he's more than willing to return the hand gesture of greeting /and/ keep calling her 'darlin'. His dark eyes flick back to P'draig and he shakes his head again, "Never anything /bad/, sir, just your name and that's about it, I'm afraid. Although, if I recall correctly, Theron mentioned that it was you and yours that searched him."
Despite all the smiles and the easy gestures and the 'darlin', Persie starts to look a little troubled. "I'm never going to remember so many names," she grumbles to herself, shifting in her seat to better face both her new companions.
"Ah yes, Theron, yep, we picked him up, Jek and I did," agrees the brownrider with a broad grin, gray-blue eyes sliding Persie's way. "Figured out a trick yet for holding 'em all in your head?" he suggests, head lifting a little as he addresses the blonde. "What's yours, if I may ask? So far I've met about a half-dozen Candidates, all at different times, doing different things and I can't quite place 'em all either, except Theron because ... well I brought him in!" There's a touch of pride in his voice as if the young rider is pleased that his dragon Searched someone.
Sokaris chuckles softly. "Theron's quite the /character/, I must admit. His accent takes a while to decipher at times, but he is, truly, an interesting fellow.", not that Soka's own heavy Bitran accent is /much/ better. His eyebrows knit as he glances back in Persie's direction. "Don't you worry, now; by the time those eggs start to show their true colours, you'll know everyone by name. It just takes a little getting used to, y'hear?"
"I don't know..." Persie says, doubtful of tricks or her ability. "There are so many people and then everyone has a nickname and there are all these dragons.. Who's Theron? Is he the one with the..." she makes a vague gesture towards her face, apparently meaning that Theron has one also. And as for P'draig's request for her name, she seems to have missed it in the worry of remembering everyone else's.
"Well, unless you Impress, try not to worry about the dragon names too much. Beyond y'know, the Weyrleader, Weyrwoman, Piper and T'bay's. Need reminders on those?" teases P'draig gently enough, then lifts his brows Sokaris' way. "Is he? Huh. He seemed like a regular enough lad to me, but I've not spent all that much time with him. He pull extra heavy duty or something?" Paddy looks down at a scattering of grains of Sand loosely spread along the step not far from where his booted foot rests. "Well, sometimes, I try to link people up by something they have in common, or something that sticks out about them that also brings the name to mind."
Sokaris inclines his head to Persie, still smiling. "You could always try and take notes, if that's easier for you to do. I tend to remember faces." One shoulder lifts in a lopsided shrug, the young man rising to his feet. He glances at P'draig, observing, "Well, he's got some /interesting/ stories to tell, for one. And he's utterly impossible to corrupt, I believe. He and I had a fascinating discussion just the other day ab-", and here, he's cut off -- perhaps for the better -- by someone bellowing his name. With a sigh, the young man turns and heads out, drawling a, "'Twas a pleasure!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.
Persie wrinkles her nose again, watching as Sokaris leaves. "I don't want to take notes," she says. "It's just a lot of names at once, ya know?" She lets out a sigh. "And so far, I haven't learned anything about anyone, just a bunch of names and then more names and then more names, but nothing really about anyone."
P'draig laughs at Sokaris' remarks and nods a few times. "Uh ... huh ... well I'll bear that in mind." One hand lifts as the Candidate heads off and he turns back towards Persie. "That'd be a lot of notes, yep." P'draig considers for a moment then clears his throat. "Well, here's something about me, I used to be a Baker, I Stood twice, once with Piper and once with S'vin. Both my parents are riders and I'm from the Reaches. How's that?" The brownrider flashes another engaging grin and then slides his foot off the step. "I'll let you mull all that over, I've got to actually -find- Piper herself now and let her know her dinner's here. See you 'round!" And with that he shoves off.