Fort Weyr - Rockslide

This ancient rockslide slips a little beneath your feet, not all that stable - it requires someone with great dexterity to get around. Several large boulders are secure enough to offer perches for watching the Lake from, and some nooks and crannies would make excellent hiding places for treasured objects.


Grey whisps of clouds partially cover the pale blue of the sky, threatening to turn into something later in the day. However, the soft rays of the sun will not be detered as they warm the surrounding region, spreading golden hints across the lake and rockslide nearby. It may not be enough to fully get rid of the slight chill in the autumn air, but it's enough that those used to the weather of the region are out and about. Ely is one of those, having settled on a huge flat slab of rock jutting out of the jumbled rock slide. It's large enough that she's able to sit comfortably with her legs dangling over the edge like she were some child sitting in a seat too big for her. Slouched forward, she seems to be working on a notebook, long fingers wrapped around a pen as she scribbles notes. Every so often a chill breeze stirs, catching at her loose amber hair and sending it twirling above her like some fiery flag. Though the chill is mild, she's bundled in a fleece-lined jacket of pale brown over her usual clothes. Spread onto the rock next to her is a small cloth napkin with what remains of her lunch.

Pralius is at least looking clean shaven, shirt tucked in and pants straight despite the rings under his eyes. He's got a book tucked under one arm, clearly not one of his healer manuals since it's actually a reasonably small size. He's almost to Ely before he blinks a few times, actually noticing her, "Oh, hi Ely. I'm not… woop!" his foot slips a little on the loose scree with a yelp. He's silent for a moment, breathing slowly, then he straightens, "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Ely scratches at something with a distinctively sharp movement, lteting out ad isgusted onise deep in her throat, "Shells." Breathing out a sigh, she flips to the next page in the notebook and rapidly scans the thing with her mismatched eyes. She's concentrating so much on the written words that the sudden sound of another voice has her nearly dropping the pen. There's a mad scramble and a flurry of hands as she makes a grab at the thing, partially crinkling a page in her notebook in the process. "/Shells/, Pral," she breathes, gripping the pen with white-knuckled intensity as she breathes out a sigh. "Don't sneak up on me like that, will you?" Something of the tenseness in her posture relaxes a little and she eyes him thoughtfully, "Try not to go falling down the rockslide, either, as I don't know if I'd want to try to chase after you." There's a hint of wry, sarcastic humor in there as her customary smirk returns. She flicks the pen at a space next to her, "There's enough rock for two. I'm just going over the breeding records so far. There're only a few more pairings to be done … but I need to check off things and … " She wiggles the pen in the air, " … y'know. Do the whole goat matchmaker thing."

Pralius snorts softly, running his hands through his tousled hair, "I'll try not to. Faranth knows Milo'd be upset if I upset you and I'd rather not fall." He flops himself down to avoid further slippage and shrugs, "I didn't really expect anyone else to be here." He sets the book aside, revealing the embossing on the front, St George and the Dragon. Instead of reading it, he peers over Ely's arm at the notes, "Any particularly fruitful pairings so far?"

Sitting there next to one of the larger rocks that make up the great rockslide of Fort's lake was Joan. In one hand he had small chisel and in the other a hammer, and he was slowly chipping away pieces of the various rocks that surrounded him. Or atleast, that's what he WAS doing. He stopped after hearing a rather large and peculiar thudd. Looking up from his spot he sees both Pralius and Ely, opposite of himself and a slight distance away from where he actually was. "He guys, what are you doing here?" he accidently blurts out.

Ely smooths the palm of her hand over the page, pressing the paper back down into some semblance of order. For a while she frowns down at it, as though the expression would help her with the task. "As long as you don't push me down the rockslide," she quips with a smirk at Pralius, " … then I don't think I'd get upset at you enough to do anything /drastic/. Besides. I think I'd prefer if you went home to Wyn in one piece now that you're a father." Curling her fingers around the pen, she trails the tip of it down the edge of the page and tries to find her place again, "Bojangles has had a profitable season. Four matings. He's the one who headbutted R'oc in the balls." This is alls aid in a calm voice, as though she were talking about the weather. Wind whips, sending some of Ely's amber hair flying around her face. Thus, she has to swipe at it several times to actually see Joanethen coming towards them and she blinks, "Hey there." Not knowing the man, she doesn't say much further and glances back at Pral, "How's the baby, then?"

Pralius shakes his head, "The hill I pushed you down is much safer. And you have one hell of a right hook." He nods that odd little nod, "Yeah… still not fully used to that… especially not with the newest bombshell from my father… has me all discombobulated." He roll his eyes a little, then he pauses, blinks twice, and starts to giggle, "Oh, Faranth. You'd better tell him Bojangles stole his fertility or something." Joanethen's arrival draws his glance up and then he nods, "hey, Joan. Just loitering." He smirks, glancing back to Ely, "Already trying to hold his head up."

"Whats this about a baby?" says Joan as he comes up upon the pair, shaking his head side to side as if he had heard wrong. "I don't remember hearing any thing about any births up at the Weyr." He adds in with a slight shrug "Then again i've been locked up in the smithy for a while so i'm not quite up to date yet with everything." With a congratulatory look on his face, he turns to give Pralius a praise, "Well regardless, congratulations my friend! I'm sure if he's anything like his father he'll turn out to be a decent lad." Realizing that the woman was still there, Joan quickly apologizes "Oh i'm sorry about that, I forgot to introduce myself. The names Joanethen, it's a pleasure to meet you miss," he says with honest sincerity.

Ely clenches her right fist and shakes it in a menacing way in the air, casting a sidelong glance at Pralius, "It's had a bit too much use lately, though. Shells. I'm still recovering from the guilt of my last proddy cycle." Shuddering a bit, she drops her hands back to her notebook and sets back to scribbling, checking a few more things on the list in front of her. Batting irritably at some stray amber strands, she glances up and eyes Pralius skeptically, "Bombshell from your father? What has that idiot got to do with anything? I still can't believe he tried to /kiss/ me at my birthday party." The memory has her clenching her fist around the pen and scowling. "And I'd rather /not/ talk to R'oc if I can help it." Atleast baby talk has her relaxing and letting out her breath slowly, "That's good. Is Wyn breastfeeding alright? I know it was difficult enough for me with the twins, but I had to do it twice as much." Flipping to the next page in her notebook, she glances up at Joanethen and blinks, "Miss?" Grimacing, she shakes her head and corrects, "Call me Ely. Miss is too /formal/. Nice to meet you."

Pralius' face remains fairly impassive as Joan talks, "My son, Darius. Wyn gave me a beautiful boy around a sevenday ago now." He pauses, then smiles, still deadpan, or is that tired, "Thanks… on all counts." He glances at Ely and raises one brow, "Apparently I have another sister. Flavia." He nods, "She's managing, still a bit sore, though."

"Well alright then, it's a pleasure to meet you Ely." Hearing Pral's last comment, he stares out to space for a few seconds, blinks a couple of times, then turns to Pralius. "Flavia, the girl we met earlier today down by the lake? Wow…well that's something you don't hear everyday," Joan tries to say in a reassuring manner. Trying to change the subject, he notices Ely's notebook, "Oh hey, i was meaning to ask what you guys doing up here anyways. I came up here cause i thought some of these rocks might contain some ore samples that i could use for my smithing," Joan says impassively.

Ely scratches absently at her chin with the blunt end of her pen, lifting her mismatched gaze to peer at Pralius with a creased brow, "Another sister? What?" Surprise is replaced with disgust as she lets out a scornful snort, "I'm sorry to say, Pral, but your father is a man-whore. A /man-whore/." This is said as though it might as well be some fact that had been written in a book somewhere. "Hopefully he'll stay away from Wyn until she's un-sore," she notes with a scowl, tracing a finger down the list of goats in her notebook and making a note by one particular one. A chill wind gusts again, causing a stray bit of amber hair to fly in front of Ely's face. Sighing with frustration, she shoves the strands behind one ear and leans to one side to peer at the giant rock she and Pralius are sitting on, "I'm not sure how much ore'd be in these things. I'm sure this has been here for turns and any useful stuff has been grabbed by now." Settling her pen onto her notebook, she reaches to pluck a piece of fruit from what remains from her lunch on the napkin next to her, "So … Joanethen … you work as a smith?"

Pralius nods, "Thankfully she seems to only take after him physically. And she agreed to help me punish him for it somehow since, apparently, he's known since Prail told him about me." He rolls his eyes slightly, then peers at the rocks, "Aren't they just rocks… like the whole caldera?" He blinks at Ely, then begins laughing again, "Not news, Ely. But thanks for agreeing. At least Noelle was Prail's by another rider… this is my first surprise sibling." Though likely there are more. He winces slightly, "I can hope he stays away from Wyn forever, but I never seem to manage it."

Joan gives a nod, "Yep, been at it now for about 3 and half turns," He says with a tone of pride in his voice. "Oh your probably right, there probably wouldn't be alot of material in any of these rocks," he admits truthfully, "But if they do contain any traces of raw ores, then that could mean a vein may be close by." He says with a slight grin, "And i'm sure the smiths down at the smithy would be more than happy to know if there were less than a stroll away from a huge supply of raw ore." Making a slight joke at Pralius, Joan goes "Hey Pral, just think you could, even be related to me through some way. How'd that be for a surprise?" he says with a devil-may-care look on his face, trying to lighten the mood.

Ely rolls her eyes at the sky, breathing out her breath in a sharp gust, "I repeat. /Man-whore/. He's addicted to women." Licking the tip of one finger, she uses it to flip easily to the next page in the notebook, eyes dropping to peer at the page, "Maybe you can get a mind healer to examine him? Maybe they have therapy for being a dirty wherry." Furrowing her brow, she concentrates on her work for a moment, jotting down a few notes in a rather elegant handwriting - a style that doesn't seem to fit her volatile nature. It takes her a while to glance up at Joanethen, smirking a little as her mismatched eyes fix on him, "Honestly. You'd be worse off being related to me. Then you'd be related to my /brother/. Who might not be a man-whore, but is still quite the wherry's behind." The mere thought of her sibling has her scowling. Time to cheer herself up - she deigns to sneak a small cookie from her lunch stash and pop it into her mouth. Cookies make everything feel better and it seems she's finally over being sick of eating them.

Pralius blinks at Joan… "wouldn't mining the Weyr be… bad? And a miner's job, not a smith's?" He glances at Ely and rolls his eyes again, "The only cure for that is death… or castration." The rest of Ely's comments are kind of lost behind Joan's suggestion… or moreso Pralius' gawping at Joan's suggestion, mouth hanging slack, eyes wide, "uhh…"

Seeing the look that Pralius had just made, Joan could help but let out a howl of laughter. In between fits of laughing, he finally manages to say, "Relax Pral, my father is a trader at Ierne, not a dragonrider. But your right about one thing, this would be a concern for a Minecraft." "But still," he says as he wipes a tear from his eye, "it'd sure be alot better than having to import our metals from somewhere else. A local source of metal would make our smithing go much more efficently!" Turning to Ely, "Well, i wouldn't know anything about that. This is the first time we've met after all. Just then a sudden whoosh of air is made, as a tiny brown blur makes it way to Joan's shoulder. "Oh, hello Clott. Did you have a good nap little one?" he asks the tiny, runt-like Firelizard as he takes off the note that the little brown had brought.

Ely flicks the end of her pen in the air and then makes a snipping motion with her other hand, offering up a faint smirk at Pralius, "Castration? It just so happens that /I/ know how to do that. Granted … I've only worked with herdbeasts, goats, ovines and the like." Breaking into a chortle of laughter, she manages to add, "I'm sure Kr'ius' balls can't be that much different." Shoulders still shaking with laughter, she goes back to jotting down notes on the notebook, pausing every so often to glance at adifferent page to check something or other. She only glances up at Joanethen at his last few comments, blinking once, "Pral's right, though. I doubt anyone in the Weyr would approve of ripping up anything here for mining. There're a bunch of whers around here, too. I'm sure one of /them/ would've sniffed out any ore long ago." She glances curiously at the firelizard for a moment before going back to her work, one hand sneaking out every so often to steal a cookie or a bit of fruit to nibble on.

Pralius' hand comes up, pushing his jaw shut, "Not… sorry, not funny, Joanethen… My relationship with my father is bad enough." He swallows, then glances at Ely, "Can I have a cookie?" Awww, he's so pitiful.

"Well I'm sorry to hear that Pralius." Joan says with a truely sympathetic voice. Glancing over the note, he lets out a sigh, "Seems i'm needed back at the smithy. I guess i'll see you all some other time then. Pral good luck with the new born. I'm sure he'll be a fine lad." Turning to Ely, "And Ely, it was nice meeting you. And good luck with that castration. If you need any help holding that /man-whore/ down, i'll be more than happy to lend a hand." And with that he makes his way down the rubble, with Clott's tail wrapping around his neck tighter as he moves from rock to rock.

Ely wiggles her pen from side to side as she stares fixedly at the pages of her notebook. It takes her am oment to realize Joanethen is leaving and she blinks once to break her concentration, eyes glancing upwards, "Good luck then. Nice to meet you." She wrinkls her nose and flicks a hand in the air, "I was joking about the castration. I don't want to /look at/ Kr'ius' balls, let alone touch them with gelding shears." Hunching her shoulders, she goes back to her work and mutters on the end of a snort, "Man-whore." There's a few more moments of writing until she registers Pralius' request. Stopping mid-sentence, she glances up and arches a brow at him, "Well. I don't know." She taps the tip of her pen against the notebook, as though contemplating, "You didn't push me or upset me today, so I suppose you can have one." Picking out one of the smalls hortbread cookies, she holds one out over Pralius and drops it - presumably on his stomach. She gives a falsely cheery grin, "Enjoy."

Pralius smiles, chewing happily on the cookie and swallowing before he nods, "Naw, if you can corner him, go ahead… it was Joan's joke that didn't… sit right…" He watches the smith retreat, still frowning some, "And now I have this odd desire to defend him to Joan… I think because he doesn't actually /know/ K'rius…"

Ely hms absently as she taps the end of her pen against her pursed lips, bringing her eyes up to peer at the dparting smith. "Well. I think you're right," she muses absently, glancing back down at her notebook. "Only certain people have the right to call him man-whore. He tried to kiss me. I have the right." Making a noticeable checkmark next to some entry in the notebook, she adds with a smirk, "I've got the right to slap him, too, but I've not had the chance. I'm just glad he didn't decide to come to Mags' flight. Maybe he was off cavorting with someone else at the time." She rolls her eyes and snags another cookie to munch, "Don't let him near your kid. He might rub off and you'll have raised a womanizer."

Pralius nods, "Maybe that's it… I think it's funny when you do it because you've experienced it." He smirks slightly, "I'm still shocked you /didn't/ slap him that day… maybe you should introduce /him/ to Bojangles." He rustles in his jacket for a moment, then comes up with a bottle of water and takes a drink, "Thanks for the cookie." He smirks slightly again, then chuckles, "I think he was riding sweeps over the mountains." He sighs softly, "He's honestly not a bad person… he just thinks with his pants too much."

Ely brushes a hand over her notebook, smoothing out the paper. "Milo got in my way," she says matter-of-factly, glancing up to smirk at Pralius, "Or I might've had time to slap him. But better to let Milo handle that kind of thing if he's around to do so." Trailing her ifnger along the page, she adds with a further smirk, "He can be sexy when he gets protective. More than usual, of course." not that Pralius might be interested in her feelings for her weyrmate, but she doesn't seem to care. "Bojangles is currently occupied," she remarks dryly, tapping a finger on the book, "He has his own libido to worry about. And his four goatly girlfriends." Writing a neat note across the top of the page, she adds, "And he's not available for nights, weekends or limited time engagements to attack men's balls." Glancing up, she jabs her pen at Pralius and smirks,, "And it's not his /pants/. It's what's /in/ his pants. Shells. You should know that." Chortling slightly, she adds with a touch of amusement, "Not that it's likely big enough to provide room for much thinking in there." Glancing up, she arches a brow, "Is he ever going to move back to Telgar or is he here for good?"

Pralius chuckles, "I wouldn't know… probably best that way, anyway." He blinks twice, then snaps his fingers, "Too bad, probably more than a few men in the Weyr who could use his therapy…" There's a pause, then a nod, "True… I was just being non-descript." He flushes slightly, "My mother, ah… implied differently… much to my embarrassment… But he did basically save my life the day I fell…" He smirks more, "And I got to see Vlad poke him with that toothpick." He shakes his head and sighs, "Seems he's here to stay."

Ely twirls her pen between her fingers as she flips to the next page in the book, scanning it diligently like the rest. "Well," she adds in a thoughtful tone, cocking her head to one side as she reads something in the notebook, "Maybe his manhood'll shrivel and fall off from overuse. Or from some festering disease." She then blinks once and eyes Pralius, chortling slightly, "Your mother actually told you about the size of him? /Shells/ and I thought /my/ mother was nuts." Still laughing, she reaches out to snag a cookie and pops it into her mouth. "Mmmf," she murmurs through a mouthful of sweet goodness, "And I'm lucky that they all stay in Bitra. Mots of the time. Who knows why Orice shows his ugly face here." Scowling, she rolls her eyes, "Maybe he has a girlfriend he's sleeping with." The thought has her shuddering.

Pralius shudders slightly, "Part of me would worry about what that might mean for mine… or my son's…" He nods slowly, "Moreso implied his prowess therewith…" The mention of Orice, actually processed this time, brings a slight scowl, "That wherry head? He's just vile. I can't believe he was being so mean about Mags." The insinuation of a girlfriend just draws a shrug, "There're always women interested in courting a rider." Ivy appears from /between/, chittering at him imperiously, but not worriedly. He frowns slightly, then stands, "So much for reading, looks like Darius and Wyn are up from their naps. It was good talking to you, Ely. I promise I won't fall this time… much." He grins, then picks his way carefully down the slide and towards the bowl where Shisuth is waiting for him.

Ely taps the tip of her pen against her chin as she considers, eyes remaining on the paper on her lap, "Prowess? Maybe she was just trying to be /nice/. Or maybe she believes that 'size doesn't matter' thing people harp on about." Snorting a bit, she glances up as Pralius starts to walk away, calling out after him, "Say hello to them for me!" There's a breif pause before she adds with a scowl, "And call Kr'ius a man-whore if you happen to see him!" Then, crouching over her work again, she goes back to notating the log of goat breedings. The chill wind picks up a bit, tugging at her amber hair and having it dance slightly against the grey of the sky. It's another half hour atleast before the first raindrops start to fall and Ely is driven from her rocky perch. Then, as nimble-footed as a goat, she picks her way down to the ground and trudges back towards the Weyr.

'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.