Girls Gone Wild
Who A'ster, Ibreily, Leimna, Thys
What Those girls are wild.
When Spring, Turn 2711
Where Center Bowl, Fort Weyr

029.png thysicon1.png


Fort Weyr - Center Bowl
The wide center of the bowl is often bustling with activity as riders come and go. Off westward can be seen the entrances for the candidate barracks and the guest weyr, while to the east is a large opening that leads into the dragon infirmary. The bowl stretches off both to the north and to the south, where the sheer stone walls rise steeply to the sky.


It's morning in Fort Weyr, and activity is picking up in the central bowl as the breakfast rush comes to an end and business as usual begins. Dragons are being loaded, ready for deliveries, a flight of Thunderbird riders are preparing to set off for sweeps, and, close to the living caverns, Thys is there with Rhenesath, both waiting patiently as sacks are being strapped to the brown-gold queen's straps. Thys herself is sipping on a cup of tea while holding an umbrella and overseeing things, trying to stay dry under the incessant, if light, drizzle that falls across the Weyr. She's in a fancy set of leathers, suggesting she may have somewhere important to go to.

It's morning, and Ibreily has that look. The on-her-tenth-mug-of-klah look. "I don't care!" She laughs loudly at a man with a greying beard and amused eyes. "Tell mom I said I'll visit before next turn. Tell her I ran off and joined the circus, actually." The harper waves an airy hand, casually waving off the rider — who rolls his eyes and sets off for the other side of the bowl with a laugh. With a spring in her step, the journeyman meanders around the sweeps-readying wing, making for the caverns in a roundabout kind of way. The young woman almost passes Thys, intent on the caverns, but she pulls up short — eyeing the fancy leathers with raised eyebrows. "Who did your leathers?" The harper greets, pauses. Right. Propriety. "Good morning, ma'am." There, that's better. The sketching of a cheeky salute probably just about ruins it, though.

It should be illegal, looking this good in a guard sergeant's uniform; that being rained on only adds an air of devil may care rather than turning the whole affair frumpy is just, quite frankly, rude. A'ster enters on easy strides, long-legged and beat-cop steady, his lifemate a mahogany-rich wher-coupled partner keeping pace behind him. Thys, they spot; A'ster steers their course near with a charming-rogue grin and a salute - just - shy of cheeky; Kle keeps his attention on the harper-girlthing, instead. "Great weather we're having," he opens with, bright and only a little bit sarcastic. Tiny bit.

Thys pauses pre-sip, mug up at her lips when she's greeted. "Good morning," she replies to Ibreily, taking a sip of tea before she looks down at what she's wearing. "Oh, these? Ah… I think it may have been a leatherworker in Ierne. To be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure, but I do tend to go to him for more formal wear." They are pretty nice, and she flaunts herself just a little when A'ster arrives. "Morning, brownrider." And a wink for him, too. "We're admiring my outfit. What's your opinion of it?" She says it teasingly, giving Ibreily a sly wink.

Ibreily notes the new dragon first, head tilting up in a little smirk-nod of greeting. Upside-down, because why not. The harper looks down just in time to catch the salute, and sketches another of her own that really isn't. So much a salute. As a gesture one might use in place of removing a tophat, ridiculous and over-done. "If it were any better," The harper starts, glancing up at the sky serenely. "Well." And she leaves it there, completely unhelpful, eyes skittering back on over to Thys. "Ierne? I know the area. Is it the guy next to the pickled vegetables stand?" Rei wonders, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet as she contemplates. The riders get huff of amusement from the journeyman, who raises her eyebrows, face splitting into a sharp grin for that wink. "Yes, rider. Your dress taste seems decent." Rei cajoles, rocking back onto her heels and eyeing the both of them.

Akleteyth is all hulking physicality in a truncated, compact package: he uses it now in squaring his shoulders and flaring stubby, green-laced wings as he looms, inquiring, into Ibreily's space. A'ster ignores him. "Goldrider," is warm, near enough to affectionate that it nearly turns it from title to term of endearment. "I think any answer I give is bound to get me in trouble with someone," he answers, just shy of cheeky - but the assessing look he gives Thys in her fancy leathers is, oh! it is appreciative.

Rhenesath turns her head to puff a hot breath at Akleteyth, flexing her wings a little while being careful not to move too much, since she's still being loaded up by careful weyrfolk. "Not the one beside the pickled vegetable stand, though I do know who you mean," Thys replies to Ibreily, handing off her empty tea mug to a handy person nearby. She twirls her umbrella, beckoning A'ster closer after returning his greeting with a nod, and responding to his trouble comment with an amused quirk of one eyebrow. "I remember who it is - his name's Fl'zyr. Rides an adorable green, owns a boutique just on the outskirts of the Weyrhold. He's got fabulous connections, even if he doesn't do leatherworking himself. He's more of a fabrics man."

BABABABA BA BA BABABA. BABABABA BA BA BABA. BA BABA BA BABA BABA DUN DUNNNN. BOWNOWNOW. BOWNOWNOW. That's the Rocky Theme in case you were wondering - completely appropriate to the arrival of Leimna who REALLY. JUST. CAN'T. From /WAY ACROSS THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BOWL/, there's an UNGODLY screech of sound that might be better suited for some kind of B-rate horror flick with flying goat-bat monsters. It's obnoxious. /Truly/. And it only gets worse when the death-by-fanged-goat turns into something that /might/ depict excitement, except that it, too, sounds horrific. "IBBY. IBBY, IS THAT YOU?" She doesn't bother to cross the distance separating them, but she /does/ bounce excitedly trying to be seen - because her carrying voice was not enough. She waves an entire arm with over-the-top excitement, takes a deep breath, and then yells, "I SMASHED A PIE IN THE WEYRLEADER'S FACE!" Because this is a feat. Only /too late/ does she notice the two dragonriders, pausing almost as if out of respect but - "HE PINNED ME TO A TABLE!!" Nope. No respect from this one. /Rude/.

Look, he's looming — deliberately telegraphing her motions, Ibreily will poke Akleteyth square in the nose if he doesn't dodge, dimpling a grin at the hovering dragon. "Heyla." She greets, highly amused, squaring her shoulders right back at the burly brown. Whatcha gonna do? "Ach," The harper turns a little, smirks for A'ster. "Where's your brevity, guard?" She teases, and winks — she's only kidding, and turning the amused look on Thys now. "Ah! I think I know the one you're talking about. His green is gorgeous. I need a gift for my ma for —" Oh no. She knows that screech. She's known that screech since she was a wee toddler. Poor Thys; poor A'ster, poor dragons, poor everybody except Ibreily. If she was bouncing before, the harper actually hops, taking a few steps so her flailing arms don't actually hit anybody in the face. "LEIA!" She hollers, flailing hands going to frame her mouth. "YOU DID!? HE DID? YOU'RE NOT IN JAIL, EVEN!" The journeyman laughs wildly, now bouncing a little and making get-over-here gestures, settling only a little to beam at the dragons and riders. "She's family!" Apologize? Pfffft. What for? "I'm sorry, I was saying. He's right near the one that used to be an art gallery, right?" Beat. "GET OVER HERE, LEIA."

It's the beckoning that moves A'ster to stride to the goldrider's side, under her umbrella; it's the ungodly ruckus that has him stepping into her space, one hand steady and broad at the small of her back as he pivots them both, neatly placing himself between her and the source of the noise before he's finished registering its lack of threat. Kle, already paying attention to the harper has already put this together; he turns to raise those short-sparred wings just a smidgen higher, as one might eyebrows. Dragon studies incomers - with an amused twitch for Ibreily's brashness - while rider grins down at junior weyrwoman, only a touch abashed; it gentles the roguishness of his charm, warms it the way his rain-chilled hand has warmed at her back. "Well. They seem very excitable, this season." A breath, and he adds, "I do admire the craftsmanship, though," as he thumbs the cuff of her nearest sleeve with his free hand.

"Dear Faranth, what is that noise?!" Thys is shifted by A'ster, but not for long - she's not the hiding-behind-boys type, and she steps out from behind him to eye the yowling from across the bowl. She does touch A'ster's arm gently as a thanks for his protective move, while she frowns over at the loud-mouthed little lady who's coming right at them. "Oh, Faranth. I remember you." Or at least she remembers the story about Th'ero and table-pinning, as that's the only point at which recognition dawns across her expression. Sorry Ibby, but the talk of fashion is out the window for the time being. "You were incredibly lucky that the Weyrleader didn't have you arrested." And that's said in her stern voice, with a frown to match it… well, at least for a moment, before she cracks and has to try and stifle a giggle. "It was funny. Just don't do it again. Which reminds me…" Thys looks at A'ster, touching his arm again gently. "We have a knicker thief loose in the Weyr."

Deep breath, "HE DID!" And the Leimna is drawn in by the powers of gestures that beckon her hither, moving with her own bounce that looks /almost/ like a skip, but a lot more awkward. "THERE WERE SO MANY MUSCLES AND," she's closer now, weaving a path through groggy-eyed folk that look zombie in complement to her horror-film-screeches, and so her voice lowers. "I think he /would/ have thrown me in jail, except that he must have realized how much I appreciate a man with handcuffs." The red head's hair is up in a messy bun, strands tugged down purposely in artful intervals to frame her excitement flushed face. The smaller woman is gathered up in an excitable hug as Leia bounce-bounce-bounces and then pulls away holding Ibby by the shoulders, only to pull her into another hug again - and get interrupted by the scolding tones of a woman who knows her stuff. Leia stiffens almost imperceptibly before letting go of her cousin and turning almost sheepishly to face the riders. One, two… the giggle stifling, the admittance that she is FUNNY all earn a smile that /could/ be considered shy, except that she ruins it by leaning towards Ibby and whispering in a whisper-that's-not-really-a-whisper, "He has a /really/ nice ass." AND THEN SPRING FORWARD! She salutes Thys, and A'ster, and points to the goldrider. "I remember you also! You were the three-sheets-to-the-wind voice of reason that liked -" Pause, dismissive handwave (she really shouldn't go there), and so she focuses on A'ster. "I like your outfit. It should be outlawed, looking that good in a uniform." BEAM. She will just link arms with Ibby and rock on her heels awkwardly. HELLO WORLD.

A'ster looks aggrieved, and oh it's unfair, the things that does to his fair-featured, square-jawed face. Unfair. "Of course we do," he says to Thys, determinedly ignoring the goings-on that his lifemate is so delightfully enraptured by. That is. That is. That is until Leimna happens; there is only so much one can ignore. He pins her with a frown, all furrowed pale brows and rain-dark blond hair splayed over his forehead; he points, to emphasize the pin, and says, "No. Down."

Who needs umbrellas? Ibreily's hair might be plastered against her neck, but she looks amused, even halfway to soaking from long exposure to the damp. She's totally missed the riders' maneuvering, and is instead flashing a grin for the brown's mantling, waggling her own eyebrows merrily. "I like you." She informs Kle, brightly, but isn't distracted from Leimna's approach for long. "I BET HE LIKED IT," The harper yells, bouncing as the taller Leia approaches. "Who doesn't like bubblies?" The bouncing hugging has Ibby as an enthusiastic participant — she bounces too, squeezing the life out of the youngest of them. Ibby opens her mouth to respond, but Leimna's letting go, a little off, and Ibreily shoves herself in at her side, making innocent doe eyes at Thys. Big, giant, terribly innocent doe eyes. Look at them. They couldn't hurt a fly. Aaaand there it is; Rei elbows Leia, cackling. "He's a rider, of course he does." The innocent doe eyes are probably not terribly effective, on the tail end of that cackle, but the journeyman tries them on the riders anyways. SHH. Talk of drunken goldies gets a bright grin, and by the end of it, the cackle has turned into a highly amused giggle — half-hidden behind a hand. "You're gonna scare them off, Leia." She's. Not actually reprimanding. If that manic grin is anything. Wait. "…underwear thief? You're kidding, right?" What. Scoff. "Amateur hour. They can do better than that."

Thys clears her throat, stiffening her posture a little when Leia almost repeats what she said she liked about a certain black-wearing bronzerider's tush. "Yes. I was a little… inebriated." Throat-clearing. Ahem. Must have a frog in it, or something. She looks sidelong at A'ster, running her gaze not so subtly over him in his uniform. The sight makes her nod in approv- agreement with the comment about him looking good. "Our guard's uniform is quite a flattering one." Rhenesath is finished being loaded by now, and she huffs a warm breath over the last person to leave her side, before turning her attention to the giggling girls. She's amused. Thys is… bemused. Especially with those doe-eyes being made her way. "Your friend here," you, Leimna, "claims that the reason she assaulted the Weyrleader with her bubbly was because she believed him to be the one who stole her knickers. Clearly," she turns to A'ster, "we must find the thief before more of the Weyr's leadership is bubblytacked." Bubbly attacked. She's clever with words!

A'ster says, "Faranth's tits," because that is clearly the appropriate response here.

AND THERE IT IS. A'ster is telling Leia /down/, and the red head blinks as blue eyes follow the indicated point on the ground. "Down? Like on my knees?" The woman affects the same doe eyes as Ibby, blinking down at her cousin in a way that says, 'IS THIS MAN SERIOUS?' with lips /slightly/ parted for feigned surprise, and then she's turning her attention back onto A'ster with furrowed brows. "But you haven't even bought me a drink yet." ONE, TWO, THREE, and that's all she wrote. Leimna is cackling with just as much IT'S A TRAP glee as Ibreily, rubbing her arm as if to silently communicate, 'OH HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU' as amusement turns back onto Thys and Ibby's comment about knickers has her stifling laughter that starts with a rather unflattering SNORT. "Wish that they were. While they figure out how to lure knicker thieves out of hiding, come." And Leimna tugs lightly on Ibby's arm without dislodging the lock, waggling fingers in goodbye to the riders as she tries to steer her cousin towards the living caverns. "I want to show you where it /happened/. Do you have any of those candles on you? I want to build a shrine." SO THAT NEITHER SHE, NOR THE WEYR, CAN EVER FORGET. And off she goes, amid much plotting and unnecessary witch cackling.

HE LOOKS SERIOUS. Ibreily's eyebrows are all the way up in her hair as she meets Leia's eyes, shrugging exaggeratedly who knows and somehow managing not to cackle at any of it. With barely-holding-it-together dignity, Ibby eyes Thys. "Oh." She nods, overly-solemn, effecting a poker face that would make Sanldoth proud. Or actually, scratch that. Sanldoth must never know of their Shenanigans. "I'd certainly want to capture them, then. Especially if it is the Leadership." You know, just in case. Nope, she can't manage. Leimna's glee is infectious, and Ibby cackles, tossing a wave over her shoulder and letting herself be dragged off. "I'm sure we can find some. The headwoman can't deny the request, surely. It's a noble cause." Her voice probably carries, pitched high with amusement as she tugs them to avoid a collision with a rider. ONWARD.

Thys is left somewhat speechless by the two girls, the talk of shrines and the possibility of the Weyr's leadership pinching folks' panties when they're not looking. She watches them as they walk off, brown eyes wide, and waits until they're out of earshot before leaning towards A'ster and saying, in a lowered voice, "Faranth help the Weyr with those two in it." The goldrider shakes her head in disbelief, and reaches out to stroke Rhenesath's muzzle when the gold lowers it down towards her, breathing warm breath through the cold drizzle. "In all honesty though. How on Pern would we go about catching someone with a fetish for underwear? If that Leimna girl is even telling the truth?"

"I mean down, as in down, girl," A'ster says, because this is going to be helpful; Leia and Ibby are already on their way to terrorize someone else. "Terrifying baby-children," he pronounces them both, indignant; it's not his fault he's genetically predisposed away from the drowned rat end of the visual spectrum when wet. But it does him no (all of the) favors. "I like the uniforms," he also tells Thys, keeping petulance out of his voice, but barely; it's aggrieved again, as Kle trundles his own approach. "He likes them. Apparently. Faranth's soggy knickers, why is someone stealing underwear?"

"The uniform suits you," Thys comments in return, allowing herself a quick up-and-down glance over the brownrider once again… she's got to be sure she's telling him the truth that he looks good, after all! Then she snorts a laugh, shaking her head as she looks in the direction the girls just went. "Faranth, I hope Akleteyth doesn't like them too much, what with Kayeth about to clutch and all… I'd pity the weyrlingmaster who got stuck with them. Poor M'icha." Shaking her head, she brings her attention back to the guard-rider beside her. "I have no clue. Some strange fetish, perhaps? A practical joke? Maybe… actually, forget maybe. I'm going to put signs up in the lower caverns, the baths, the laundry… people need to know their underthings aren't safe. Who knows what could go missing next? One day knickers, the next… uh…?" No clue what could be next.


Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License