Langley - Thursday, October 05, 2000, 11:32 AM
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All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright Anne McCaffrey, 1967, 2000, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey. This is a roleplay log from PernMUSH at pern.mccr.org port 4201.

You walk over to the beautiful little garden on the edge of a secluded pool.
Ista Weyr Pool and Garden

You can see out over the ocean, and its turquoise surface glimmers brightly in the warm light. The sky vaults above your head like a fine backlit glass bowl; lush vegetation around you holds every shade of green and purple, and reds in between. A circle of stones line the crystal-clear pool, fed by a rushing stream from the distant black Weyr walls. The air is scented with the ocean and with the flowers and fruit trees planted here in orderly rows. A small flagstone path meanders past a low stone fence and out back to the plateau.
Sunlight beats down from the mostly clear spring sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Stiff winds howl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, driving heavy surf far up the black sand. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.


You see several intimate 'places' here to talk in private. As you look around, you can see firelizards darting 'down' the waterfall on gleaming wings.

Radar nods. "Seems to be. I've only been visiting for a few days but there always seem to be people here." Then he smacks his forehead and says, "I'm sorry, I forgot my manners. I'm Radar, from the Weaver Hall."
Gaelyn extends his hand towards Radar. "Gaelyn. Formerly of a Ruathan farmhold."
Picking her path with utmost delicacy, young Langley ducks beneath an overhang of foliage, heaving a gusty sigh of discontent as it tangles a moment in her hair. As if the branch were somehow at fault, she curses the twig and then comes round a corner to halt her steps rather abruptly. "Is nowhere sacred?" she mutters to herself.
Gaelyn smiles and waves over towards Langley. "Come! Join the throng!", laughing a bit.
Sidrith studies Semeth for a long moment in a trusting manner, then twitters excitedly. Ducking his head under the water, he holds it there for a long moment. Celis blinks worriedly, and then dives under to see what's going on.
A little huffy, Langley says, "Throng? Why, it's a veritable crowd!" But she does come padding along down the path, narrowly missing a squishy bit of earth tilled by the stream. "I was told," she begins, apparently directing her words to Gaelyn the friendly, "that this might be a quiet place for relaxing."
In the sky above, Cevodnioth soars out of the bowl proper, and out over the corrals.
In the sky above, Cevodnioth heads towards the lagoon of the pool and garden area.
Cevodnioth dives down from above and lands in the water with a huge downdraft as he backwings to a landing.
T'mren climbs off the dragon, and hops nimbly to his feet.
Br'nal calls out from Yanaleth's head, "Do you know why it is so good to take dragonets to the pools?"
Gaelyn shrugs softly, smiling a roguish grin and sweeping his hand towards the cavorting dragons and their riders. "A crowd perhaps, and far from quiet at the moment, but I find it greatly relaxing to watch such play myself. Care to sit?", he asks as he smooths out some sand nearby, still smiling.
T'mren hops off Cev as the bronze lands near the pool, looking amused, "Wow, quite a crowd today.."
Sidrith emerges back from under the water, trilling happily at his lifemate who comes up right beside him.
Radar sits up a bit straighter as the bronzeriders enter the scene, and calls out, "Weaver's duties to Ista and her Queens!"
C'sus shouts back to Br'nal, "'cuz they stink from the mucking!"
T'mren chuckles, "Ista's duties right back at you. Hi weyrlings! Hey Brin. How's it going? I just stopped by to see our new kids." He squints at C'sus and the little bronze.
Gaelyn looks about, seeking the source of Radar's sudden formalities.
Almost a groan comes as Langley tilts her eyes skyward to behold the arrival of yet another dragon pair. Resigned, however, she releases but one more petulant sigh to echo the bronzerider's comment. And then she tips the very portrait of charm at Gaelyn, "What pretty manners you have."
P'tod leads Semeth into the shallower water so that he can scrub the brown's back and tail. "Yes, yes, I'll let you go under the water again, love, but wait until I've got you soaped up, please?"
Bladrik waves a hide at Br'nal, hoping the assistant weyrlingmaster will come closer to the water's edge,"Br'nal!? Got time for a question? I've got oil from Keroon arriving...do you need anymore barrels for theweyrlings?" he asks, trying not to shout any louder than needed.
Br'nal holds a hand up and looks down at Bladrik, "More barrels? Yes, shards man, they go through them like...." he grins. "Yes, Bladrik, thank you." He then turns to C'sus. "No. Anyone else?"
T'mren chuckles, "Looks like the little ones are keeping your hands full Brin."
Gaelyn turns back to Langley, smiling almost crookedly in apoligy for the sudden distraction. "Why thank you, and it would be a terrible shame for the pool to lose such charm should you leave."
There is a high pitched bawl from Qirith as she dunks her head under water with enthusiasm. Then slides back under into the deep end.
Bladrik makes a mark on his hide,'Good...since the ladies don't like the fishy smelly kind." he says quietly as he walks towards the plateau path.
C'sus tries another guess, "To make their hides shiny?"
Celis finally remembers the question. "To teach them to swim?"
Langley asks, as if Gaelyn now ought to be a repository for every knowledge, "Why are they all here? Haven't they got a whole ocean for - for - cavorting?" She folds her arms in an irritable gesture as she overlooks the playing dragonets and their attending weyrlings.
Br'nal nods to Celis, "That's part of it. P'tod? Anyone else?"
Bladrik walks out of the garden, along the path.
C'sus tries again, shouting, "Build their muscles up?"
Gaelyn chuckles deeply, slowly shaking his head, his eyes aglow with mirth. "An entire ocean yes, but they come for the same reason you had, I imagined. A quiet place full of beauty to attend their... companions." Looking almost wistful, he cocks his head to one side much like an animal regarding something curiously. "I'm sorry, my name is Gaelyn, originally from south of Ruatha Hold."
Br'nal nods to C'sus, "Yes! In the water, dragons can stretch, and open their wings, and work their muscles without straining themselves."
Fluria turns to Br'nal at his question and blinks. "Oh, it builds up their wing muscles and gets them used to using them long before they actually will...and their other muscles."
A *look* goes to Gaelyn, as if to discern exactly why it is he's offering up this information when Langley didn't ask for it. But, in the interests of politeness, she puts out her hand and says almost cheerfully, "I'm Langley. You're not one of... them?" Her chin tosses to incorporate the weyrlings.
Gaelyn takes your hand for a gentle yet firm sqeeze before releasing it, seemingly oblivious to the look given him. "Them?" Again the wistful look passes almost inperceptibly across his features. "No. No I'm not a Rider, just a wayward son at the moment seeking a path to follow. Nice to meet with you Langley."
Fluria moves out of the water as Qirith continues to rinse off and frolic. Making her way to her clothing and a towel to dry off. Wrapping it about her, the towel that is, the weyrling turns to Langley and Gaelyn. Tilting her head a touch. "Nope, but I am. Fluria, gold Qirith's lifemate." She greets in turn, her smile gently and welcoming.
T'mren watches the dragonets wonderingly, and grins, "My my. Fluria, Qirith's getting huge already."
Gaelyn smiles and nods towards Fluria. "My duties to you GoldRider."
P'tod grins at Semeth. "Now, you can go under the water." The brown warbles happily and races toward the deeper part of the pool, kicking up splashes of water. He submerges himself again, and again shows no signs of surfacing immediately.
Langley looks up and over as another greetin coems her way, and she draws up another of those patented little smiles - false as the day is long. "Fluria? A pleasure. You're Ista's new queenrider, aren't you? I've heard about you." She lets that stand on its own, then adds toward Gaelyn, "Well, don't sound so upset about it. There are *other* things beside riding dragons, you know," in her petulant way.
Radar asks Br'nal, "Is is safer for them here, too? Where it's shallower and they don't have the strong tides to fight?"
Fluria glances at Gaelyn and then Langley and nods. "Good afternoon again, Gaelyn." She says gently. And then her attention is caught by T'mren and she casts him a sideways smile and wink. "Langley...good to meet you. And yes...I can imagine you would have." There is a crispness in her tone and her smile, as if she registers the false-perkiness behind the smile. Or it could be that she just got out of the pond and is now cold.
Gaelyn looks almost startled at Langley's comment. "Hmmmn? What? Oh, I'm far from upset about something like that. As well be angry for the sun rising." Waving a hand before him dismissively of the thought, he says, "Besides. It's a hard life and not for everyone, right?", still seeming oblivious to the ice in her voice or gaze.
P'tod frowns, poking at his dragon under the water. "Semeth! It's time to come up now. /Now/," he repeats firmly. But the shape under the water remains.
Possibly oblivious to the weyrling goldrider's chill, Langley proceeds to comment, "Oh, indeed. The whole island is positively buzzing about it. You'd think we hadn't seen a queen in Turns and Turns. But I suppose people simply *must* have something to talk about." She rolls her eyes expressively at whatever 'people' she means to imply, then twitters that smile back at Gaelyn. "You *sounded* a little dreary. Why, I wouldn't be dreary if I were you. After all, what have they got that you haven't except extra work?"
T'mren grins, "Well, good luck."
T'mren grips the straps on Cevodnioth's hide, and climbs onto the dragon's back, perching there with confidence.
Cevodnioth leaps into the air and rides the winds upward.
In the sky above, Cevodnioth rises up in a glimmer of moisture from the garden area.
Fluria chuckles at that and nods a touch. "Indeed. I wouldn't know, they keep us fairly isolate." She says, then proceeds to go about drying herself off. Qirith, in the meantime lets out a cheery warble.
Gaelyn cocks his head slightly once more, not seeming to realize he is doing so as he strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Yes well... I suppose so. So what is it that you do to pave your way in the world Langley, that brings you to the Weyr? Or are you a resident?"
Semeth finallys comes out of the water, sucking in a huge breath and letting it out with a triumphant bugle. P'tod, however, is not amused. "Semeth, when I tell you to come out of the water, you need to do it," he scolds.
Almost like she cares though there is that same lack of depth in her voice, Langley says toward Fluria, "How sad for you. Don't you get to do *any*thing? Go *any*where?" The look she turns upon Gaelyn is, frankly, insulted. "*Do*? Why, I do plenty, thank you very much. Which doesn't explain why I'm here, but that's hardly my fault, is it?" Self-centered, pretentious... isn't she just charming?
C'sus walks out of the garden, along the path.
Vaolth walks out of the garden, along the path.
Fluria chuckles and nods. "Plenty of stuff to do. Feed, oil, sleep, feed, oil, sleep." That is said with a real grin and wink. Then the girl proceeds to get dressed, Qirith emerging from the water at last with a tired croon.
Gaelyn raises an eybrow and smiles, flashing white teeth, strangely and infuriatingly oblivious seemingly. "No, I don't suppose it would be your fault, but maybe I phrased the question wrong. Do you reside at the weyr?", he asks with the same idly happy tone.
Yael walks out of the garden, along the path.
Radar has disconnected.
Gaelyn crosses his legs and leans forward a bit, watching as the riders and their dragons begin to leave to pool. "Dreadful? You don't wish to be here?"
Fluria shrugs her shoulders as she reaches out to carress Qirith's eyeridge. "Not at all. There are lessons as well and each day is different." Just then Qirith gives a huge yawn.
Celis goes home.
Sidrith goes home.
P'tod stands at the edge of the pool with his arms folded across his chest. He probably makes quite a sight, there, unclothed as he is. "Semeth. NOW."
Fluria pages to Br'nal, Gaelyn, Langley, and P'tod: Off to talk to Maine. =o)
"Well, I don't think *I* would like it any at all. Don't you have any sort of a choice? I mean, you do ride a queen, after all," says Langley, gesturing to Qirith mid-yawn. Then she glances sidelong at Gaelyn and says, "Not much. But my father said I *had* to come. So here I am." She sighs once more, gusty as ever.
Fluria chuckles and pats Qirith. "Let's get you oiled and then into your couch sweetness." And with that she waves a goodbye.
Fluria says "Choice? Well...I choose to learn. Otherwise I would not be a good rider to my lifemate."
Semeth sucks in a mouthful of water and squirts it at P'tod, still frolicking playfully in the water.
Gaelyn waves at the departers. "Really? Your father made you come here? Why is that, if you don't mind my asking?"
Langley looks after Fluria for several moments, wrinkling up her nose in an attitude of distaste which, frankly, comes altogether naturally to this girl. A bit absently, she looks back to Gaelyn with a momentary, "Hm?" Then, pausing, she adds, "Oh, yes. He says I need the chance to work on my own, to make my own way. It's all rather stupid. I'm sure he'll come back for me soon."
Gaelyn looks nearly disturbed for the briefest of moments, as if his oblivious nature finally noted the look sent towards the Goldrider's way and it made him momentarily discomforted before the smile returns to his face. "I've heard that birds will push their hatchlings out of the nest to ensure their flight. It sounds like your father learned from them." Looking at her for a moment, he then says, "He might come back for you..." though his tone holds obvious doubt.
P'tod pages to Br'nal, Gaelyn, and Langley: Welcome back :)
"My father," says Langley rather imperiously, "did not learn from the birds. He doesn't know what he's doing is all. He'll realize he misses me and then - well, then he'll come back to get me and take me home again. In the mean time, I'll just stay here and wait." Resolutely, she nods.
Gaelyn opens his hands agreeably. "Of course he will be, once sense has returned to him." Smiling softly, he continues, "Until then however, it seems you'll have to fend for yourself. How long have you been here?"
P'tod takes a deep breath to control his temper and turns his back on Semeth, walking a few paces away from the pool. The brown immediately clambers out of the water, following his rider and nudging P'tod in the back with his head.
Gaelyn glances over towards P'tod and his lifemate, seemingly surprised at the realization that the dragons had such individuality and freedom of character.
"He better," says Langley, folding her arms and tapping her foot with obvious impatience. She too glances toward P'tod and his dragonet, raising a brow to ask, "Aren't they supposed to do as you tell them? I thought that was the whole idea." Anyway, she frowns at Gaelyn and concludes, "I just got here. And look at what I found..." An irritated gesture goes to the lingering populace of the pool's environs.
P'tod stumbles forward and nearly loses his balance. He turns to face his dragon again. "You can't push so /hard/, Semeth, you'll make me fall." The brown croons apologetically and presses his head against P'tod's chest. "Yes, I know," he weyrling says, his irritation rapidly fading from his voice. But then he stiffens. "No. You can't go back in the pool," he insists. "We need to go back to the barracks now and oil you."
Gaelyn nods slowly and thoughtfully.. "So now what do you intend to do? If your father is anything like my own, he could be fiercely stubborn and it may take a while for him to decide to come back for you."
Langley utters a little 'hmph' and watches P'tod no more, instead picking at a stray flower with absent fingers - removing petal after petal with a rather callous disregard. "I don't *know* what I plan on doing. I'll figure something out. Probably nothing. I mean, what would be the point of finding a task if I'm only going to abandon it in a day or two, right?"
Gaelyn straightens his neck and shoulders, giving her an appraising glance. "Well... maybe so, but many don't take well to freeloaders." Tossing his hands up to forestall a retort, he continues, "Not that it's your choice or anything, but others might see it as such. Do you have any skills? Your hands look talented enough," he ventures.
P'tod grips Semeth's large head in both hands. "Back to the barracks," he repeats. "Come on." Finally, the brown seems ready to obey, and P'tod turns, acknowledging the others present for the first time in the past quarter candlemark or so. "Sorry, I was a bit occupied," he says to Langley. "Were you speaking to me?"
P'tod pages to Br'nal, Gaelyn, and Langley: Okay, yeah, P'tod did put his clothes back on :)
Langley glances up like she's only just now taking note of the weyrling, blinking up to regard him a moment. "What was that?" Then she brushes her hand as if dusting aside some unpleasant odor. "Nothing important. Do... carry on." She smiles charmingly then holds out both hands a bit toward Gaelyn: "Do you really think so? My mother says I have clumsy fingers except for needlepoint."
Gaelyn reaches out to take her hands with his own, sliding his fingertips along her hands, noting any visiable callouses or lack thereof, perhaps indicative of just how much labor this girl has seen in her life. His own hands are strong and sure, with callouses yet smooth flesh from the humid weather, fingers surprisingly deft. "Hmmmm... needlepoint. Do you enjoy it?"
P'tod rolls his eyes. "Well, someone wants manners," he remarks to nobody in particular, then beckons to his brown. "C'mon, Semeth, let's go." The pair make their way down the path toward the plateau.
Gaelyn smiles and waves at the departing P'tod. "Fare well Rider! I'll probably see you again in the future."
Leaning forward a bit to peer after P'tod, Langley issues another little 'hmph' and then settles back once more. "Manners indeed. *I* am perfectly well-behaved." For a spoiled wherry... Anyway. She frowns at Gaelyn and withdraws her own perfect little hands - uncalloused, unstained, rather pampered. "Needlepoint? Have you ever done it? It's terribly dull. And I'm always pricking my finger." Sniff.
P'tod nods and waves to Gaelyn on his way out.
P'tod walks out of the garden, along the path.
Semeth walks out of the garden, along the path.
Gaelyn hmmmms, scratching his chin and half-closing one eye while regarding the pampered lady. "Pray tell, what does your father do in life?"
"Why, he's a Sailor, of course. That's what *every*one on this island does." Langley says it like she's not altogether pleased by the fact but is nonetheless resigned to the reality. For the first time today, perhaps ever, she asks a question that has nothing to do with herself: "Why? What do you do?"
Gaelyn grins again, folding his hands in his lap. "Not much at the moment. Heh. I was actually looking for some form of recompance for the hospitality shown me here. I had been suggested as a Stablehand or assistant gardener. Back home I was a..." rolling his eyes, "farmer."
None too impressed and showing it openly, Langley says, "A *farmer*? Why, what would make you want a job like *that*?" She creases up her nose to underscore her distaste with the possibility, turning down her lips in a sour little frown. "Farmers are always dirty and smelly and..." All sorts of other icky things she can't qutie voice.
Gaelyn waves his hands about as she speaks, glad she has lost the words for a moment. "Hey, hey! I didn't want that any more than you want to be here. It's all got to do with what your born to or what your parents were, right? Wrong. I discovered that for myself a while ago, and now here I am, at a place where legends are made! Oh sure, I can stable horses and such for a while, but there are two very good reasons for my being here... Maybe you can find reasons of your own, if you choose. I'm certain we could speak to the Headwoman about suitable positions for the both of us. Until your father comes back, of course"
Langley echoes very certainly, "Of course. He will be coming very soon, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he came back before nightfall." She glances about the place as if half-expecting his appearance any moment now. Alas, no such luck, and so she sighs. "But whatever would I *do* at a place like this? I mean, I'm hardly cut out for manual labor, after all."
Gaelyn smiles again. "Yes, he might come back this very night, but just think.... what do you think he'll be expecting you to do, truthfully? Doubtlessly he _wants_ to walk in to see you sitting there, downcast and downtrodden, doing nothing save waiting for his return. That will only stoke his assurance that you must rely wholly upon him for everything in life. Wouldn't you rather show him your true strength, your own resiliancy? Imagine what he would say or do if he came back and discovered you doing your works, whatever they might be, and actually getting by quite well without him! Why, you could actually feign that you hardly spared him a thought while he was gone, wouldn't _that_ show him how well his so-called 'lesson' was recieved?
Forced to submit this to some sort of honest thought - which seems to be a mild trouble for the girl - Langley frowns in a thoughtful manner before she straightens up her posture and says, "I suppose you have a point. I *could* try my hand at something. Except - except they might expect me to do menial chores and, well I just couldn't do that."
Gaelyn chuckles. "There's a sign of that self-resiliancy. Tell you what, I'll help you if I can, though I doubt you'd be fond of the sort of work I'm suited for." Sweeping his hands wide to indicate the weyr and all it's environs, he says, "Is there nothing here that interests you?", gently.
"Clothes," says Langley promptly, plucking a bit at the hem of her dress and beaming as the thought occurs to her. "But I could never manage being a Weaver. We once had one come to the hold, and even he said that I haven't the patience for stitching properly." Then, with another toss of her chin, "Not that any of this matters, of course. He'll come back for me, you know, and it seems silly to waste our time like this."
Gaelyn shakes his head again. "No, no, not if you want to toss this silly 'lesson' of his right back into his face it won't be. C'mon, even if you don't enjoy the sort of work you do, you can at least savor the look your father will give you when you tell him that you have no need of his 'rescue', though you can of course, allow him to lead you away 'if he must'. It would be hilarious. " His eyes twinkle with a glittering mirth. "Mayhaps we can set you up with someone to teach you the ways of Weavery. The clothing here IS very beautiful, and being able to make ones such as these would doubltessly impress your friends to no end."
A little drily, Langley comments, "I don't think I would much enjoy counting stitches and measuring thread all the day long. It sounds *so* dull. Almost as bad as farming." That last was probably a purposeful jab though she says it with utmost innocence in voice and expression. "Oh, bother. This would be much easier if he'd just come to his senses, you know. Do they take kitchen help here? My mother says I could spoil even the most simple stew, but it's not like I'd really have to *do* much, I don't think."
Gaelyn grins, his oblivion covering the jab over withouth incident, perhaps making him one of the few who could carry a conversation with the girl for any period of time. "Hmmm... you know, I have heard that the food here is something to marvel over. I'm certain there's something you could do there, though I'm willing to bet that no matter what form of labor you choose, they'll find something to keep you occupied." Frowning in thought, he pulls a small handful of bright red cherries from the nearby tree, offering up one to Langley.
A bit sharply, Langley returns, "You aren't helping. I don't *want* to work all day and get old and wrinkled and ugly. I want to go home and enjoy myself more." She kicks a nearby stone just to have some little vent for mounting frustrations, sniffling a little in the process. Aww. How sad. The cherry she takes is hardly even considered and as yet uneaten.
Gaelyn bites into his cherry, wiping a slight bit of juice away from the corner of his mouth, his features softening a bit as he swallows and sighs. "What is waiting for you at home that makes you so eager to return?", he asks, with a purposefully neutral tone.
"Why," begins Langley matter-of-factly, "who wouldn't want to go home? My aunts and uncles positively adore me. I know they must all be pining for my return. And it's so much more pleasant there without all these - these - *riders* running around all the time." She says the name as if it were indeed a dreadful notion, her fingers absently toying with the stem of the cherry as she keeps up her complaining end of conversation.
Gaelyn looks out towards the sea, the remaining cherries in his hand forgotten as he says softly, "Some people would give their lives to get away from their homes. Strange how others fight tooth and nail against it." Shaking himself a bit, his smile returns. "At any rate, we have to do *something* for you, lest your father return to find a half-starved and beraggled lady rather than the daughter he left." Pausing for a moment, he says, " I can't help but notice a slight bit of resentment towards the riders, do you not like the dragons?"
Sighing heavily, so put upon, Langley comments, "I really would prefer not to have to take a position and abandon it in a matter of hours. It doesn't seem at all fair, you know." Delicately, she finally gets around to eating the fruit, plucking the pit from her mouth and tossing it aside, then answers the latter question. "Oh, I suppose I like dragons just fine. I've never known any. But their riders are generally *such* self-centered wretches." She's one to talk...
Gaelyn nods again. "All right, I'll admit, I'm overwhelmed by the prospect of staying here while you may go home in a few hours. I'm just excited I guess. Let's not talk about work then, in hopes that your father will return soon. Still, perhaps later we could wander through the Infirmiry. Threadscores are terrible to behold and oftimes they can use an extra pair of hands for dragons and riders alike. So tell me then, what for you when you're older? Marriage perhaps?" Bites into a rememberd cherry as he says that last bit, looking at you sidelong with an idle expression.
Without even a second thought, Langley says, "Oh, of *course* I shall get married. Why, what else should I do? Run about the Weyr like these lower caverns women, at the beck and call of some rider? No, thank you. I want a husband." Who's at her own beck and call, no doubt. "But I don't think I could manage the infirmary. I mean, all that ichor and blood and numbweed. I'd get all dirty."
Gaelyn chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses the pits of the cherries off towards the ocean to be pecked at by nearby seabirds. "Why do you suppose your father left you here, for what purpose?"
"To get out on my own, he said, and learn something pra - " Langley cuts herself off all at once, peering through the foliage. "Why, I think that's him! Excuse me, Gaelyn. I really must run. You understand." Without waiting for a return comment, she cuts off at a rather brisk pace toward the plateau again.
Gaelyn smiles and waves sadly after the pampered young lady.