Fort Weyr - Northeast Bowl

The northern end of the bowl can be an intimidating area, being that Fort is the largest weyr. The far north wall contains the gigantic opening to the hatching caverns, and to the west of that can be seen the sprawling ledges and carved stair cases that mark the way to the administration complex and the training grounds were candidates and weyrlings can often be found. The west cliff wall towers up, dotted here and there by darker openings that mark individual weyrs before it tapers to a point at Tooth Crag.

There's something about having one's arm in a sling that's at odds with the idea of fishing, and yet here he is, with two poles and a bucket of bait, loitering in the bowl waiting for his ride (cough). Fall is here, the weather is crisp, even if the morning looks like it's going to be a nice one. With the bite in the air, D'ani has donned jeans and a rough flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He can't harness Dremkoth or go *Between* but he is dressed for flight, boots on his feet, his jacket half on - he got his good arm in one sleeve; it's thrown over the shoulder of his other arm. Eh. It's only a short hop down to Fort Sea Hold anyway.

Dtirae comes bearing food! A basket of it, even as Zuvaleyuth makes her way from her ground weyr. A rumble of greeting is given towards the bronzerider, followed by a soft melodic trill. Clearly, she has a lot to say without actually saying it. The Weyrwoman, however, isn't so melodic or wordy. "'ey D'ani. Lookin'… Good." Ish. If you count the fact that he's still injured. She gestures over towards her lifemate, and the free spaces on her straps. Clearly, she is ready for their expedition. "Just set the stuff near 'er and I'll get it all loaded."

D'ani is a wee bit hung over from the fellis, truth be told. Unlike his Weyrleader, D'ani has no problem accepting the stuff when in pain and that sucker still hurts where they cut the arrowhead out! (it's a good thing she's ‘driving’?) So 'lookin' good' earns a rakish grin because though he hasn't peeked in a mirror this morning, he can well imagine he's a tad glassy-eyed and the quick comb run through his hair has done little to set the unruly waves straight. "You outshine me, M'lady," he says, teasingly courteous and totally truthfully as he steps closer, offering over the poles and bait bucket. At least it's covered so there won't be a mishap into her picnic.

Poor D'ani. But, at least Dtirae is kind enough not to torment the poor man. Maybe she really wants this date? Or, maybe she plans on pushing him into the water later and that would be the end of him? Hopefully not. She laughs at his compliment, inclining her head slightly in thanks. "At least someone thinks so." She teases back before taking the poles and strapping them in. The bucket of bait is moved to the other side. Just to be safe. No one wants to eat bugs for lunch, or find bugs near their lunch. Who knows what could happen in the air. Once all is settled, Zuvaleyuth crouches for the pair to mount. "You first, D'ani. I'll help you up."

If she does, she'll have to sail the boat back all by herself. "I'm sure Zuvaleyuth does too," D'ani says with a laugh, offering the queen a scritch while Dtirae is loading the things. Oh, then it's time to get on said dragon. D'ani did have a plan for this, but Dremkoth is up on his ledge, miffed that he's not going along. The idea was to hook his good arm over a talon, have the bronze sort of, well, not sling him aboard actually, but you get the idea. Instead he looks waaaay up to where he's got to get to, thinks fast and looks back to his Weyrwoman. With a smirk, "Me first, eh?" This he has to see. Is she going to kick his butt up the side of her dragon? He jumps, grabs the line with his good hand, pulls and… yeeaah… gets about one third of the way up there.

"She says I am adequate for our expedition, but could use some refining. Because I am never a proper lady." All said with a chuckle as Dtirae turns to D'ani. There's a curious look given to D'ani as he looks to her and smirks. Brows lift, and hands go to her hips as he jumps, grabs, and doesn't make it up. "Bit of a dope, D'ani." Of course, her tone is teasing affectionate (he's drugged after all, and thus must be treated with affection). "Let me give you a boost. You can't be that heavy." What does the Weyrwoman do in her spare time? Lift D'ani's, of course.

Yes, but! From down there, well hummm … However he's thinking she's going to manage this feat, he doesn't say. No, he just hangs there and looks down at her with another lopsided grin. "Boost away," he invites. Five foot eight isn't all that short, but Zuvalayuth is big. It's not exactly like being boosted upon a runner's back. Is that… draconic laughter being snorted from the ledge where Dremkoth crouches?

Dtirae snorts softly, laughter hidden in there somewhere. "Though, I suppose it could have been easier trying to get you to climb up another way." She muses out loud, "but we've come this far, I guess." It isn't that far at all, really. Regardless, she's attempting to heave the bronzerider up a little higher. "Hm. How long do you think you can hang there?" Maybe they'll just fly off, with D'ani hanging from Zuvaleyuth's side?

At least D'ani has a nice butt? Not that he's- well yes, he's totally thinking this, male ego and all that as he's boosted up another foot or so. Dtirae's question is answered by a gentle snort and he says to the queen, "Pardon my knees." His long legs are gathered to plant knees against gold hide and he manages to half-crawl, half reel himself up the rest of the way by wrapping that strap around and around his forearm. The woman below may have to heave-ho another time or two (who needs dignity? Certainly not he!) Eventually he gets there, but not without much grunting, swearing and a glare sent towards that ledge up there where Dremkoth is doing the dragon equivalent of snicker-snorting at him. Once astride, he unwinds the flight strap from his arm, dangles it for the Weyrwoman below and smirks, "Give you a hand up?" He has at least one to offer!

And at least Dtirae /likes/ man booty, and can appreciate the view. At least Zuvaleyuth isn't rumbling her own laughter at the predicament the pair have gotten into, lest they both go tumbling down and have to start all over again. Dtirae certainly isn't complaining, either. But then the bronzerider finally makes it up and the offer of the strap is met with a grin. "Certainly." The strap is taken and she'll help D'ani help her up by using great effort (because she doesn't want him straining too much).

And so, with his one good arm D'ani reaches a hand down as Dtirae climbs up and can at least do that small part, even if he is not graceful today. He's just going to pretend he planned it that way. Though, yeaaah. He'll need her to buckle him in too. He'll just wink as her hands clip those straps around his narrow waist and say, "The tide is right and I've arranged for the use of a sailboat down at Fort Sea Hold." If warm breath stirs the hair by her ear? Totally accidental right? He's keeping any flirting to a minimum - honest! This IS the Weyrwoman after all.

Winking is met with a return wink. Can't let him have all the fun, right? Right. That's it, entirely. "Perfect." She notes in return as she adjusts his straps so he doesn't go toppling off during their flight. "If you keep talking in my ear like that," she begins, her tone teasing, "I might start thinking you're trying to catch more than fish." She's just playing, right? Who knows. "Ready?" The question comes as she begins to settle her own straps. Safety first.

D'ani laughs, low in his throat, "Is that so?" His nod confirms that he is ready, a look sent to that ledge where Dremkoth is. The bronze is lolling with eyes half-lidded, totally appearing like he's going to have a lazy snooze in the fall sunshine. D'ani? He's behaving. But he's going to ensure the Weyrwoman has a good time, if he can, because all those office-bound leader-types need it once in awhile.

"Yes. But, I should warn that you might not be able to handle it." It's a rather vague statement. But when the nod of confirmation is given, Zuvaleyuth takes off into the air. The flight to the Hold is rather uneventful but full of nice views, if one hasn't already seen it all before.

"I see," D'ani says, amused. He'll not debate this, but the look he sweeps over the woman seated in front of him is frankly skeptical. Perhaps she has a secret weapon? He chuckles, settling into the flight as they rise above the bowl, shifting with Zuvaleyuth's movements. Behind them Dremkoth rises, spreads his wings and drops off of his ledge, gliding in the queen's wake. Not as sneaky as he thinks he's being; D'ani is aware. When they get to the seahold, he points to a small craft, bobbing at one of the docks. That one is theirs.

Fort Weyr - Fort Seahold Oceanfront

At the water’s edge is a rock-lined quay made with huge squared boulders likely cut in with those now defunct stonecutters used in bygone days. The pier themselves are made of wood, though stone pilings support them, behind which a single stone edifice, divided into offices of shipping, fishing and trade face the bright waters of the Northern Seas. It’s a busy fishing harbor, rarely still.

Moored at one of the non-commercial docks is a just a simple wooden, one-masted sailing boat rented out for recreational use, with seats along the sides and back, a low cabin up front and a tiller at the back. Obviously it’s not meant for anything more than overnight use, but short for day trips.

Zuvaleyuth lands and Dtirae is still looking towards the small craft that D'ani's pointed out. Amused, she smirks and then undoes her straps. "I'll go first, and help you down, this time." Better than pushing him off and hoping he lands on his feet! The gold dragon is crouched as low as she can manage in order to assist with their descent. Once she's at a reasonable place on Zuvaleyuth, with some support of the gold's wing, she looks towards D'ani and offers a hand up. She'll catch him! Maybe.

She says wait and so D'ani does. Kicking one leg over the gold's back, he sits with his good hand grasping the flight line, watching her with a half-smile just until she's turning around and lifting her hand for him. Then he goes sliding down right past her, his glove squeaking on the leather line as his hand tightens to slow the descent when his feet near the ground. It's how he usually dismounts, though he also usually uses both hands. He solemnly raises a hand to help her down, eyes merry. Dremkoth finds a perch on the fireheights where he can see the bay, crooning an invitation to Zuvalayuth to join him.

Dtirae watches D'ani go on past and snorts with laughter as he offers a hand up to help her down. She's certainly not bitter, as she's taking the offered hand with a smile. "Guess getting down is a lot easier than getting /up/." A glance towards Dremkoth before she looks to D'ani again, "maybe he'll help for the way back?" With her feet on the ground, she begins removing their goods. The bait is left for D'ani to handle while she's taking the poles and the basket of food, unless he decides to try and take one from her.

"Aye," D'ani agrees ruefully about getting down and then adds, "Oh he's helping. Unless there's a handy set of stairs I can use." He takes the bucket, waits for her and then strides easily to where the sailboat is moored. Stepping over the gunwale into the rocking craft is effortless, his balance one borne of turns on the water. The bucket is set down and he reaches to take the poles, saying, "Can you untie the line there before you board?" His point will direct her to the cleat where the boat is moored to the dock. While she does that, the poles are set in the bottom of the craft. If she hasn't jumped aboard, he'll offer her a hand over the widening gap between deck and dock. Once she's aboard, he sets the sail, lowers himself to sit, resting a light hand on the tiller, subtle movements directing her course. The tide and the wind will do the rest.

"Ah, wonderful. I doubt there are stairs that lead up to nowhere anywhere near by." Dtirae laments before chuckling softly. She follows along to the sail boat and hums her appreciation of the small craft. "Certainly." The basket and poles are handed over in time before she strides easily to the cleat and frees the boat. Then, of course, she hurries back and takes his offered hand to climb into the boat. Once she's in, she settles down and takes in the view. "I take it that you grew up around boats?"

D'ani won't mind if the stairs lead somewhere, he just wants to borrow them partway up and shortcut that 'boosting process' (he's still trying to forget that). As the small craft bobs on gentle waves, he expertly guides her towards the breakwater where they can reach the open sea. "Maiona Hold," he says with unmistakable pride. "Of the Emerald Isle archipelago in the Western Sea. A fishing hold." He hesitates, then adds, "It was my father's." He slants a glance at her squinting in the early morning sunlight. "What about you? Growing up I mean." He knows little of her past, so elaborates, "Ever been on the sea?"

"Ah. The name sounds friendly." Dtirae muses. The hesitation is noted and her gaze is drawn towards him. She doesn't press further, just nodding. She's not nosy unless there's room for actual talking. "Me? Hm. 'm boring, really. I grew up in Fort. Never went anywhere else other than the Fort region. Can say I know the Fort wilds better than anything. The sea is not my territory."

Friendly huh? D'ani smiles at this. "Maoina means 'Remember Me' in the Islander's tongue." He meets the Weyrwoman's eyes but doesn't elaborate on his usage of the past tense; not at this time. She's not been on the sea? "So," he says casually to that, "If you begin to feel queasy, just keep your eyes on the horizon and it should pass." Hopefully! Loosing her breakfast (or lunch) would, however draw the fish in, but he'll spare her if he can. He considers the course they're taking, watchful as the stone jetty nears, noting the currents. Bypassing the channel that takes them into the shipping lanes, he moves the craft out into the open waters where the swells are larger and the smart breeze sets the sails full with a snap of the canvas; the boat speeds, skimming the water gracefully. He is comfortable with the silence between them, not rushing to fill it.

"Huh, that's definitely friendly, then. It's nice to be remembered." She still does not press. Dtirae merely smiles and then turns her gaze to watch as the land grows further and further away. There's a soft hum of appreciation, for both the scenery and the coming breezes that fill the sails and speeds the boat further away. She, too, is comfortable with the silence. At some point, however, her gaze shifts to consider him again. Curiosity now lingers there, in her gaze and the silence can only last so long before the question tumbles out. "Why did you ask me out on these dates?"

The craft is now rising and dipping on the swells - it's much like a dance with wind and water, a sort of flying, but all without rising high in the skies. It's exhilarating in its own way and part of D'ani's enjoyment is sharing it with someone for the first time. He's watching Dtirae's reaction to it without openly staring at her - out of the corner of his eye - and approving. The question seems to take him by surprise. For a few beats he is silent, quelling the impulse to be facetious, make some smart quip and say, "Because I can." Mulling his answer over, he says honestly, "Why not? The knot you wear must surely give you the self confidence to decline if you wish to. Besides, it's time I got to know the woman who wears it. That and…" his smile is gentle, "you need to get away once in awhile. Climbing the rocky ramparts of Fort Weyr is not enough of a getaway."

Dtirae is content to sit in silence as he mulls over his answer, clearly, she's wasn't expecting one right as she asked. When he does answer, she leans back just a fraction to consider him. "I could refuse, knot or not." A chuckle before she continues, "but, it is normally the knot that keeps people away." She returns his smile, gentle in return before her gaze drifts towards the horizon idly. "Thank you. That's very considerate of you, letting me 'get away'."

"Your confidence is your own then," says D'ani, his brown eyes giving her an approving look. "I'm sure it does," he says equably of the ranking knot intimidating others and keeping them away. The fancy knot doesn't seem to bother him though. As for being considerate, he's honest enough to set her straight, "That's a small part of it. You are my Weyrwoman and in protecting your health, I ensure that the leader of Fort Weyr is able to do her job to the best of her ability. But I'm a firm believer in taking the path less traveled." Okay, he's waxing poetic. Or… or something! Oh look! Fish! "There," he says with an uptilt of chin to indicate a dark, shadowy spot in the water. "We should get the lines in."

"I've always been confident. Or, maybe that's cocky." Dtirae smiles, humor lingering in the look she gives him. Of course, she's sobering up some as he gives the rest of his answer. Curiosity is, again, sneaking up as she considers him. "The path less traveled, hm? What are your intentions then, dear D'ani?" The question, she leaves that to hang in the air as he points out the shadowy spot in the water. A smile, and then she's reaching for the poles. "Is this any different from fishing on the shore?"

Cocky. This makes D'ani chuckle. He's watching the dark shadowy spot though and so when she asks about intentions, he flicks her a bemused glance and says simply, "To follow it." Meaning? Well, her knot didn't intimidate him. And then adds with a little grin, "Right now- my intentions are to get you to do some fishing!" She grabs the poles and he loops the tie that will keep the tiller straight. Now his hand is free to grab the bait bucket, flip the top and expose the mass of earthworms within. "Aye, deepsea fishing is different." He doesn't say how just yet. Instead, with a twinkle, he nods to the poles. "Ever bait a hook?" Because y'know one handed, it's impossible.

Dtirae brows lift upwards at his answer, "I'm not sure how to take that." She admits after a moment. However, she is contented with his more present plans. Fishing is good. One pole is offered out towards him, "I can bait a hook." She winks in his direction, and sets about baiting the pole she did not hand over. The baited pole is then offered in exchange for the other.

"With a grain of salt, Lady Weyrleader," D'ani quips lightly. He's the type to just take things day to day. He smirks at her answer - or maybe more the way she answers, watches to see how she manages. There's a low whistle of approval as the worms are pierced several times as they ought to be, firmly set on that hook. "Well done," is his simple praise for her skill, taking the pole, clicking the bail with his thumb, he waits until hers is ready. Then he casts it towards the place where those fish lurk. The water boils their hooks are struck instantly. D'ani jerks his line to set the hook, and then somewhat awkwardly reels it in using the hand that emerges from his arm sling. The fish is small, so it's not strenuous work - the flopping creature is a little less than a foot long. "These," he says as he swings the fish over the side of the boat, "are the real bait." As that's said his eyes lift to hers, shimmering laughter and a challenge. Deep sea fishing. They're after BIG fish.

Dtirae lets out a soft hum, one that was not appreciative nor thoughtful, just a simple hum. His approval is met with a smile before she's mimicking him, then casting her line. However, attention is drawn away as he reels his line. A brief frown of concern settles in, but clears as she draws her own line in and considers the small fish. Then, she's staring at him. "And you want to do this with one arm. Either you're mad, or extremely confident." Then again, he asked /her/ out so confidence seems to be no issue.

D'ani will let her remove the fish that is flopping all over the bottom of the boat from his hook if she'll feel better? He chuckles, "Oh no no. I'm not doing it with one arm. We are doing it with three." He might be mad? "These poles are too light for the fish we want," he tells her. His pole is set aside and he reaches under the seat he's sitting on and a coil of heavy line with a huge, weighted three-pronged hook on the end. "Soooo… you'll want to sink the hook deep in the head of the fish," he says smoothly, dark brows lifting questioningly. Can she do that? It's no dig deal right?

"You've gone from confident to utterly mad." Dtirae's grinning, however. So, it's fair to say that she may be mad as well. The coil of heavy line is eyed, skeptically, but she does not protest. Instead, she's setting down her pole and taking the hook. "In the head, got it." Hook is temporarily placed down, so that she can catch the flopping fish and remove it from the hook. With the hook previously set aside, she's very careful in piercing the head of the fish and making sure to get the hook deep enough. At least she isn't squeamish.

He might have? D'ani doesn't debate that, but he does laugh. While she's sinking the hook where it goes - sorry fish! - he's gathering the poles, catching the hooks around one of the pole eyelets and turning the reel to take up the slack in the line. Now they won't get a hook stuck where it doesn't belong. When the poles are set in the clips and he inspects Dtirae's work. "Okay, that looks firm. Now drop it over the side and let the line slip through your hands until you see an orange mark. That'll be thirty feet down." He's reached for the coil with his good hand, so at least he's helping… a little?

"Perfect." Dtirae beams at his appraisal before she's dropping the fish over the side, as instructed and begins to let the line slide. She's watching, waiting, and when she sees the orange mark, she stops. "Now, we wait?" Grey eyes settle on the bronzerider, excitement lingering in her gaze. New things are always exciting, even if it consists of waiting.

"Now we wait," D'ani confirms with a nod, eyes lifting to scan the horizon and the skies, careful to note the signs of tide, weather changes and the occasional seabird behavior. All is well, for his posture relaxes and he relaxes against the back of the seat, though one hand still holds what's left of that coil. Returning to the Weyr with, 'Oops, sorry, I let the Weyrwoman get hauled overboard and et by a fish' is not an option. Th'ero might not have to guard his pants so diligently, but Elara would flay him!

"So," Dtirae starts, her eyes are still on the line, watching diligently. There are no thoughts of being hauled overboard by a fish, simply because no fish could ever take her down or something. "Tell me about yourself?"

D'ani's mouth opens, but the question he was going to ask remains unspoken. He fixes a quizzical eye on Dtirae. He's pretty sure the Weyrleaders know the basics about candidates, not to mention after they become Weyrlings. The Pern equivalent of background checks? He gives them anyway: "Born in Maoina cothold, studied at the Beastcraft Hall to the Senior Journeyman level. Lived at Western Weyr for awhile after the floods." She might not have paid attention to the news about those since they would have happened when she was around sixteen, but he seems to assume she'll know about them anyway. "Came to Fort to work towards my journeyman's rank. Searched by Kimmila's Varmiroth right after my exams." Nice timing, his dry tone says. He got to wear that knot for all of twenty minutes before he traded it for a white one. "Impressed by the irrepressible Dremkoth, now his devoted slave." He chuckles, "See, not much of a story there. Tell me about your life in the Fort wilds. You grew up as an untamed and elusive creature, rumored to exist but never seen, right?" He's kidding.

Dtirae peeks at D'ani, the mouth opening just missed. She listens intently, a smile lingering on her lips and she says not a single word as he speaks. "Didn't know about the floods." She admits in a quiet tone, but, leaves that alone after the statement. "I meant more of… You, not your background." She teases, but, she doesn't press for more. Especially since he's asking about her. "An untamed elusive creature, hm? I suppose I was untamed. Weyrbrat. I had a tendency to play pranks all the time before I became a hunter. Dead things in the vents, making trouble. Never /broke/ anything, mind. It was all harmless. My sister and I joined up with the Weyr hunters, ended up taking lead of that, for the most part. Joint effort, but I held the most sway. Spent most of the spring, summer, and fall out hunting. Was Searched by Th'ero, of all people, when I was eighteen. Went on the Sands expecting brown and Impressed gold. Lost touch with most of my friends because I've 'changed', apparently." And then, her gaze drifts back towards the line. "Became Senior when Neyuni stepped down, though Zuvaleyuth was infertile because it had been three Turns, then she rose and I got stuck with the knot. Stole Th'ero's pants, then ended up punching him in the face later." She laughs afterwards, so, maybe that last bit is a joke? Maybe.

She. Punched. Th'ero. This earns an incredulous look accompanied by a short laugh of disbelief, "You? You look as if you couldn't harm a v'tol." Then a chuckled admission, "Heard the pants rumor." Gossip. Can't help but overhear it now and then. Those lost friends, he'll come back to that, but right now he wants to know, "Why'd you punch Th'ero?" He's very curious about that story!

Dtirae laughs, loudly. This goes on for a good minute before she finally calms herself enough to take a breath. "Oh, D'ani. So young and innocent." She teases, "I can take down any man who challenges me to a fight." She's almost purring as she says this? "I used to fight a lot, still do. With my hunting buddies." Note the fact that she never looks bruised. "He was being a jerk after the flight and I can't remember the exact details, but, he deserved it. I apologized later, however. Because no matter how much the Weyrleader may deserve a punch, you should never punch him." At least he didn't punch back.

At young and innocent, D'ani snorts quietly, a gentle whoosh of air from nostrils, but he doesn't argue. Nor does he scoff at her claim to take down any man, but he is clearly skeptical of this. Maybe she hasn't met her match yet? But he's not at all a fighter, so he won't be challenging her to a duel. "Hmm," is all he says to the thought of Th'ero being a jerk then says facetiously, "Maybe he just wanted his pants back?" He's about to say something else when the line is hit - and hit hard. He's been keeping an eye on the water, the rings rippling out from it have alerted him there's been something nibbling the bait. Now, however, the creature below has taken it and as the bronzer warns, "Hang on!" the boat turns as it is towed by the fishing line. Whatever they've caught is big, powerful and fighting. Maybe it's male? If so, Dtirae can demonstrate her fighting skills!

"Nah. He was mad I ran away for a few days, leaving the Weyr without a Senior." Bad Weyrwoman. Dtirae doesn't at all seem guilty about this, but, quite some time has passed between then and this moment. There's a soft grunt as the line is hit, good thing she didn't loosen her grip. She's tightening her hold as the boat turns and begins to move along after the fish. "Shells. We're crazy, this fish must be huge." Really, she should focus more on pulling than talking. At least she can do both at once. "How are we going to eat it?" Surely it isn't too big to eat?

D'ani was going to ask, 'Did you take his pants with you? Maybe that's why!' But Mr Fish ensures he never gets to that smart ass remark. Her running away admission earns a very thoughtful look, but they're both busy clinging to that line as the fish fights. He'll no doubt ask her about that another time, in a more appropriate atmosphere. That fish is still deep under the water, swimming as hard as it can in a futile attempt to flee the hook that has hold on it. D'ani's arm tenses as he tightens his fingers around the line even more, straining to help Dtirae hold the line. Brown eyes brightened in the excitement of the hunt, he answers, "No telling. At least a hundred pounds, if not more." How to eat it? "Cut it in steaks? Share it with the rest of the Weyr?" Their boat is moving at a faster clip as the fish makes for deeper waters, spray tossed up in their faces. D'ani grits his teeth and curses who ever shot that arrow at him.

Dtirae doesn't look to D'ani, being too focused on the line and straining against the boat with her attempts to draw the fish in. She's stubborn, she's not letting go but she's not making any progress. "Shells," comes a breathy response from the Weyrwoman. Admiration? Or perhaps she's getting winded. "No way. It's putting up too much of a fight for me to share with anyone other than you." Good thing fish heads aren't generally mounted on walls.

"Let it fight and tire itself out," D'ani advises. In other words, hauling that beast up while it has lots of strength left will ensure they get battered by the flopping and writhing of that muscular body. They might bet towed halfway to Nerat, but it'll be worth it? Her rejection of his suggestion draws a bark of laughter. "We couldn't possibly eat all of it. And the thing will surely spoil before we could." He's puzzled with her, making no attempt to hide the perplexity of this sentiment. "Aren't Weyrwomen supposed be… nurturing of the Weyr?" He's not too awfully intense on this question, more amused by the hoarding nature than alarmed.

"Ah." Dtirae is used to instant results. Animals don't generally fight after they've been stabbed and fish are normally reeled in as soon as possible. So, she does not fight back and instead, turns a glance over towards the bronzerider. "We can try." Her grin is teasing, eyes lit with amusement. "Sure, I'm nurturing of the Weyr. But, we're not here on Weyr business. Therefore, what we catch is not for the Weyr unless we decide to hand some over."

D'ani hangs on to that line, mouth opening to rebut that reasoning of her and then he simply laughs helplessly. "That's crazy," he says, but in a fond sort of way. Wait until she sees the fish! That they could easily decide to share goes without saying. And oh, if she'd like it mounted on the wall, then she won't be eating any of it, for he remarks facetiously, "Could just pay Fort Seahold's taxidermist a fortune to skin and stuff it for you?" He's smirking good-naturedly though; this is her fishing trip. He'll go along with her wishes. As for the fish, it's a good couple of hours before it is tired enough to surface and when it does, they can easily enough haul it in (easy in that it doesn't fight much, but it is heavy! When it is finally alongside the sailboat they can see the size - easily over a hundred pounds and just over D'ani's six feet long. The bronzer solemnly hands her the spear. "Aim for the head," he says.

"Everyone needs some crazy." Dtirae insists, but, there's not more than that, she's focusing on not letting /her/ fish go. She's already claimed it. "Oh! I didn't think of that!" She hasn't taken to having any stuffed creatures in her weyr, but now she seems to be genuinely considering it. No further commentary, because that fish is one tricky trickster. After they finally haul it in, she's gaping at it. The spear is what draws her attention. "Right." This? This she knows. There is no hesitation in driving the spear through the head. "There is no way we can eat all of this…"

D'ani would applaud her if he didn't have one arm in a sling. Instead she gets a sincere, "Nice shot." The Her fish is dead and it is far too big for the two of them to lift aboard. So his next-best option is to lash it to the mooring cleats on the side of the sailboat. Unfortunately… this also take two hands, so he hands her a coil of rope and nods from fish to cleats, wisely saying nothing beyond a dry, "Aye," about them not being able to eat all of this. When the fish is secure, he'll set the sail, turn the boat back towards Fort Seahold, catching the onshore breeze to get them back to the harbor.

Dtirae nods her thanks for his praise, grinning widely despite her disappointment that the whole fish is far too big for two. With his indication, she nods and ties the rope to the cleats before she's taking her seat again. "Ah well, the cooks will have some fish to cook tonight, then." Though, she does not sound as disappointed as she could be. The smile still lingers on her lips and she is looking the definition of content. "That was fun."

D'ani is pleased to see that relaxed contentment on his Weyrwoman's face. That was, after all his goal. Her earlier comment about cooking the fish for him is recalled and he reminds her, "You can still cook some if you'd like to go with that picnic basket? We just cut cross-wise over on one side of the back fin to get loin steaks." He's nonchalant, easy with the suggestion, leaving it totally up to her as he mans the tiller. At least that is do-able with one hand.

"Hmm." She considers, tilting her head slightly before she shrugs. "Nah. Speaking of food, you hungry?" There's a gesture to the basket before she leans over to peek through it. A sandwich is drawn from the basket, a rather plain one as anything fancy likely wouldn't have lasted as long. "Can't think of much else to ask you. Got any questions? Seein' as we're out in the open, just us, and time to ourselves."

D'ani is a growing boy - he's always hungry! So to her question, his eyes crinkle with sudden humor. "Are you offering to feed me, Weyrwoman?" he asks her cheekily. After all, he's piloting with the only free and able hand he has. That she could pilot the sailboat is also an option he's willing to risk (Ahhh!!! Woman driver!) as he gestures to the tiller if she'd like to give it a try while she eats. Questions… he could think of a few. Like, "So… tell me why you ran away from the Weyr?" This is asked with a sudden drop of his teasing humor, in the same gentle way he uses with skittish bovine calves. Not that… he's thinking of her as a heifer!

"I certainly could, if you'd like." Dtirae gives a cheeky smile right back. "I'll even cut it up into nice pieces for you." She gives him a look, questioning if she should follow through or not. The drop in humor is noted and she shrugs, not avoiding the question but certainly not answering right away. "Well, to answer that… You have to understand that when I was younger, I never took on anything I didn't know I could handle. That way, I never let the Weyr down by not being able to accomplish a goal. When I Impressed gold, that changed but I learned I could handle being a Junior." Her gaze drops to the sandwich, which she begins to cut into small pieces, regardless of his answer. "When Th'ero pointed out that I was the Senior after the flight, all I could remember was being cold. And scared. And all I could think was how I was going to mess up and so I ran. Not the most logical thing, and only proved that I did mess it up."

D'ani gives her a bright-eyed wordless challenge, maybe just to see what she'll do: he opens his mouth in baby-bird-like fashion. Feed me? Just… please not worms! If anything - within reason - is popped into his mouth, he chews and swallows with aplomb. He absorbs the explanation, taking the time to digest it (no pun intended). "That's the thing about leadership flights," he says thoughtfully. "The abruptness. There's nothing gradual to adjust to. For the newly stepping-up Weyrwoman or the first-time Weyrleader. Even if we do know impressing gold or bronze makes that a possibility. It's understandable it'd be unsettling." He's equating it with his own experience in the beastcraft, obviously when he says, "Sudden change can throw a person (or, y'know, a bovine. Cough). Being scared is perhaps the healthiest response; it's a big responsibility." They might worry over the cackling glee and headlong rush to grab the Reins of Power? He tilts his head and regards her frankly, "Don't be so hard on yourself. I don't think you running for what? A day? A few hours? Is necessarily messing anything up. Nothing catastrophic happened as a result, right?" He's calmly reasonable, persuasive. "Why not give a person suddenly-thrust into being the Big Cheese some time to adjust?"

Dtirae meets his challenging look with one of her own as she moves to stand next to him and very diligently places bits of sandwich into his mouth. There's no teasing, yet, at least. "It is abrupt and unexpected. But, logically: Zuvaleyuth was the only gold who COULD rise. She was a maiden, not yet risen. The only other option hasn't laid clutches in Turns and the other recently had her flight" There was no question of who would become Senior. It was just a matter of /when/ "I was gone for… Three days. Maybe longer. Nothing /bad/ happened, but the fact is that I still ran." She smiles and offers a bit of sandwich. "They didn't chase after me until three days passed, so, they let me adjust. I was still on edge and I still punched the Weyrleader…"

D'ani is being fed a picnic by Fort's Senior Weyrwoman. And he's enjoying the humorous aspect of this immensely. She'd once told him he needed to lighten up. Ha! She fled for three days! And punched Th'ero. That settles it! "Loser," he teases swaying to bump her shoulder with his, "They should boot your ass to Ierne." Obviously he doesn't mean a word of that; he's seeking to put her at ease, if only a little bit. "Perfection is… not human, Dtirae." And that's all he says about that. This rider doesn't fault her. As for the rest of the trip in, if she'd like to try her hand at the tiller, he'll relinquish it to her, coaching her on sailing techniques if she needs it and when they return to port, he'll find a handy staircase to assist his mounting of Zuvalayuth, hopefully a little more gracefully.

'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.