'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.

Fort Weyr - Scenic Overlook * Sheltered Ledge

An irregular opening in the outside western wall of Fort Weyr provides a sheltered scenic view of the mountains and valley's beyond. A sturdy but decorative metal railing has been installed along the length of the opening to keep the unwary from inadvertently falling. The low ceiling of the sheltered cavern juts out just enough to protect any observes from the worst of the elements as well as prying sky bound eyes. It offers a perfect spot to settle and watch the spectacular sunsets, stargaze, or just relax in a peaceful atmosphere and watch time go by. Towards the outer edges of the covered ledge's railing one finds a couple of woven reed chairs and small wooden tables where one or two folks can sit in relative comfort.


D'ani is a one-armed, one-eyed, purple… no wait. He is one-armed, sort of, while his right arm is all wrapped up and out of commission in a sling to keep it still while the arrow-pierced spot near his shoulder heals. Pesky healers! They've also sent the paperwork to his wingleader that forbids him returning to work for the time-being. Since there's only so much reading he can do in the library without losing his mind, the bronzerider has taken a walk. Well, more like a climb (shhh! Don't tell the healers). Up the narrow, steep staircase he spotted in the tunnel out of the Weyr, the idea of a forest hike discarded in favor of exploring. He's found himself high above the bowl with a damp brow and a touch dizzy, learning that the consequences of such exertion after his recent large blood loss and this morning's dose of fellis is that he will need to sit for awhile before attempting to go back down. And so here he is, sitting in one of those chairs, forearms on the table while he checks out the view below, looking wan and feeble. At least there's no one around to see that.

The Weyr, of course, has been alive with activity since the downfall of Laris. Ripe with gossip, people chattering away with speculations and some even approaching the Weyrwoman for her side of the story, even though some time has passed since the incident, curious minds continue to inquire. So, that is what causes Dtirae to flee and leaving her ward to handle her duties without supervision. The Weyrwoman steps through the door as quiet as possible, her gaze landing on D'ani. Her brows lift but she doesn't say anything right away as she moves to join him at the small table. "You're looking better than when I last saw you."

Thank Faranth for fellis! It dulls D'ani's reflexes and thus he doesn't scream like a girl and jump out of his skin over the rail to go splat on the bowl floor far below. He does yip, give a startled little jerk though, turning his head to see who the voice belongs to. Seeing Dtirae he lets a long breath out, any irritable remark dies before spoken. "Am I, Weyrwoman?" He asks that with a hint of a sheepish smile ghosting about his mouth. Yeaaah, he must've looked half dead when they brought him in. It isn't necessarily because she's the Weyrwoman, but because she is a woman that he rises courteously as she joins him. The salute, now. That's given because of who she is, afterwhich he reaches with his free hand to pull that seat out for her while asking, "What brings you way up here?"

Dtirae is, at least, kind enough to hold back her laughter as he yips. "Certainly. There was an arrow in you and a healer hadn't yet arrived, we were worried about stopping the bleeding. So, you are much better. Arrows don't suit you." The woman gives him a rather teasing smile that slowly shifts into a slight frown as he rises. "Don't trouble yourself, D'ani. You can stop being a gentleman when you're injured." She even makes a gesture as if to swat at his hand as she settles into the seat. "Quiet. Normally there aren't many people up here. And what about you? I'm sure the healers won't be pleased to hear that you've managed to make it up here."

Oh maaaan. She was there? "I see," he says not showing the small dismay he surely feels that she'd seen him arrow-stuck and bleeding all over the place like a piece of meat brought down by the huntsman. He manages to smirk, "I'll take your word on that and refrain from wearing them in the future then." He ignores both the suggestion that he remain seated and the swat. With a snort of amusement he says, "Nothing's wrong with my legs, Ma'am." He does reseat himself after she sits, settling back in his chair. Dark eyes move from her, over the rail and down to the bowl where small clusters of folk chatter, others drifting from group to group. With a grimace of distaste, he shifts his gaze back to her, "Don't blame you there." Why's he up here? "Anything's better than sitting around idle," he interjects before she tacks that last bit on. That’s when a slow, unrepentant smile tugs on his mouth. "I reckon what they don't know won't hurt 'em."

"Wonderful." Comes her retort, though it looks like there would be more to follow but she simply hides it behind a smile. As for his legs, there's a shake of her head in disagreement. "Regardless, you're still injured." And let us not mention the fact that he's not looking in the best of conditions at the moment. Dtirae watches him for a moment before her gaze drifts towards the bowl. There's a soft hum, considering. "I could probably find you some work if you're feeling bored, maybe something that only requires one hand." Her gaze drifts over towards the bronzerider, teasing. "Well, I'll be nice and I won't tattle on you. Those healers have a nasty temper."

Yeah, yeah, he's wounded, he won't argue with her there. He's trying his best to forget about that, if only for a little while. One hand, she says and D'ani blinks, stares at her for a moment. Best not to remark on the thought that comment brings to mind. This is what happens when a guy spends most of his day with cattlemen. Instead he stifles a laugh in a cough and says mildly, "What have you got in mind?" Psh! Healers. He deals with irate bulls for a living. Though admittedly they can't inject him with fellis when he doesn't cooperate. Impish merriment lightens his dark eyes, "I'm forever in your debt," he says to not being tattled on and he places his hand dramatically over his heart- err, well the sling is in the way, but the gesture is unmistakable.

Is that a devilish smile on the Weyrwoman's lips? Surely not. Surely she would not say something crude. But then again, this is Dtirae and she merely beams a smile at the man as he hides his laugh in a cough. "Stamping complete paperwork that's already been reviewed and approved for filing, perhaps? Though, I'm certain we could find something." Laughter follows his gesture and the woman inclines her head in a way of welcome. "I'll see to it that I take advantage of this debt, then. It's always good to have these sort of things in your back pocket, you know."

Oh no, of course not! She's a lady, right? But then D'ani doesn't know Dtirae all that well, so maybe she would? She's got to be kidding about stamping paperwork. Man, the poor suckers stuck doing office work! And he thought the drudges had it bad! Instead of flailing, he sits upright and feigns overdone bright-eyed eagerness, "Could I do that please? I flew into the arrow specifically to be eligible for mind-numbingly redundant work." Immediately afterwards he falls back into his relaxed posture against his seatback, watching her speculatively though half-lidded eyes while another slow smile grows. "You mean Th'ero's back pocket, right?" Because, well. It was the Weyrleader's pants she snitched, everyone knows that rumor.

Dtirae laughs loudly at his response, "'course you can, seein' as you're so eager." Is she calling his bluff? She meets his gaze steadily before waving a hand to dismiss the thought. "Just keep yourself busy without injuring yourself further and I'll be happy. Besides…" Though, she trails off and leaves it at that. Instead, she leans back in her seat, tilting her head back slightly while her gaze still lingers on the bronzerider. "Nah. I gave him those pants back later. After I had them for some time. I mean, it's not every day you get into the Weyrleader's pants." Literally.

Greaaaaat, he had to open his big mouth! D'ani will do it, of course, if she insists. Though he'll probably get an eyeful of the documents while stamping (slowly) due to skimming them. He just smiles as she waves the teasing comment aside and foregoes another smartass remark. Except for, "I wouldn't know," he says facetiously about getting into the Weyrleader's pants. "I'll try not to get injured again," he promises her, this time genuinely. Keep busy? He can't quuuuite promise that; he's running out of things he can do one-handed. "Besides what?" He caught that unfinished sentence, Dtirae! Somehow hanging thoughts need finishing so he fills in for her, "Besiiiiiiides… you need to come fishing with me?" Where'd that come from? He's bored and she needs peace and quiet. What could be more peaceful than fishing?

Dtirae snorts softly, "of course you wouldn't. Th'ero's far too straight-laced to let just /anyone/ into his pants." The woman offers another grin, but she does sober enough for her to give a serious nod in response to his promise. When he draws attention back to that unfinished sentence, she merely lets out a soft hum of question, a brow lifting in response. But then, he offers his own ending and another grin spreads on her lips just as easily as it faded before. "Asking the Weyrwoman on a date. How bold! We'll go fishing, then."

"For me to be there, I'd have to want to be there," he shoots back with a smirk which clearly says he doesn't swing that way. But then D'ani affects a surprised look, hand to chest again, this time in a feigned display of shock. Bold? Him? "In for a penny in for a pound. While I'm asking you, I might as well suggest a real date, eh?" Maybe he likes to live dangerously. "Dinner in Ierne, somewhere classy. My treat." Cough. "When I can Between, that is. Fishing I can do tomorrow because it's a straight flight to Fort sea Hold. But I'll need ride." Maybe it's in the Weyr's best interest? Someone needs to get the Weyrwoman to relax so she can stay sane. She is sane, right? Now there's a thought! He can go around and poll the weyrfolk whether they think Dtirae is all there. That'd be amusing!

"Good point. They're not that fun to wear, anyway. You're missing nothing." Dtirae promises. The feigned shock draws more laughter from the Weyrwoman. Laughter is good for your health, they say and she's gotten a good dosage in their conversation so far. "My, my. You're just pulling out all the stops," she teases. "When you can between again, we'll go on a real date. And fishing tomorrow. I'll cook the fish and Zuvaleyuth says she would be more than happy to give you a ride."

D'ani chuckles at that. "I'll take your word for it," he says dryly of wearing/being in the Weyrleader's pants. "Ma'am, I don't know what stops are," he says, but his eyes are twinkling; he's totally not serious about that comment. "Tomorrow then," he says of fishing, though he has to ask, "Just us, right?" No secret service, bodyguards or wingriders circling overhead to keep the Weywoman safe?

Dtirae is certainly laughing more at the comment on stops, her hand lifting briefly to fan at her face. "Tomorrow." She agrees once composure is regained. "Just us, if you think you can handle that." Now it is her turn for her eyes to twinkle with a certain mischief as she pins him with a look.

With a grin, "I'm not sure I can, but I'll be happy to die trying?" D'ani drawls holding her eyes boldly, his brimming with merriment. What fun, this verbal sparring has been; he's clearly enjoyed the lighthearted back and forth. Injuries though, have a way of tiring one and his is sapping the little strength he had left after climbing up here, not that he'll let on. He rises from the table, tips her a wry, two-fingered salute. "Until tomorrow, then Ma'am." With an inclination of his head, if she doesn't stop him, he takes his leave so she can have some alone time.

More laughter follows, though the Weyrwoman is clearly pleased with the answer as she nods her approval. If she notices the fact that he's tired when he rises, there is no indication of it. She'll let a man keep his pride. Sometimes. Dtirae gives another nod, "until tomorrow." She agrees, and doesn't make a move to stop him. Though, she'll peek on his progress when he's far enough not to notice.