Fort Weyr - Galleries
The galleries are carved right out of the rock face, the rows and rows of benches rising high up into the air on a slight slant. Stone and wood benches that used to be known for offering little in the way of comfort, are now padded with cushions in Fort Weyr's colors. Placed along the railing at regular intervals are antique looking baskets filled with cheery fabric flowers. The curving walls sport tapestries in warm vibrant colors that seem to add a dash of color to the otherwise dreary stone. Where the galleries curve slightly at the ends, affording those attending hatchings or clutchings a decent view of the sands, shaded laterns offer warm lighting along the rows of benches.


It's been rainy today, and so the people coming in and out of the galleries to view Zuvaleyuth's clutch have been tracking around all sorts of mud and dirt on their way in, out and around. It seems that someone, likely a small child, has also spilled some kind of fruity, sticky sweet thing on one of the bench cushions, leaving the potential for staining. Inyri, candidate for long enough she's figured out the routine now, has come to the galleries this afternoon in order to continue her cleaning spree of the northern region of the Weyr — a job she /chose/ to take on when given a chance to select her chore. Her first task is sweeping the steps, but sooner than later she gets to the stained cushion and makes a face. "Ew." And out come the sponges.

Having been distracted by stain-scrubbing (thankfully, Inyri was already wearing short sleeves), the candidate didn't hear approaching feet until they were also accompanied by a voice. A voice she recognizes, in fact, and so after a quick confirmatory glance over her shoulder Inyri stands up to properly salute the Weyrwoman. "Thank you, ma'am," she says, with a somewhat self-conscious grin; apparently she's memorable! Must be her drinks. After being asked a question, she looks briefly upward as if the ceiling of the galleries holds the answer, "I know who she is, but haven't seen her real recently — I can keep an eye and ear out. If she's standing, I'm sure we'll run into each other."

Dtirae gives Inyri a look and frowns, shaking her head all the while. "Told ya not ta all me ma'am. But, if yer so inclined cause yer a candidate now. Feel free." A hand waves in a sort of dismissal before she's striding to one of the seats and settling down, where it's clean. "She ain't standin', far as I know. Tell 'er ta report ta the Sands if you happen ta see her." That's that, apparently as the woman is leaning partially back where she sits, using her legs as a sort of support to keep herself from falling. "How's the knot treain' ya?"

"I remembered, I just thought maybe —" That the change in rank changed things, yes. Inyri just nods rather than finishing her sentence, though she doesn't give any confirmation as to whether she plans to switch back to first-name-basis or stick to 'ma'am.' "I will let her know and spread that around, though," she can promise, and as Dtirae sits, Inyri returns to the scrubbing of the errant cushion, wrinkling her nose at it a bit. She's alternating between looking at it and looking at her conversation companion, though; she may like things clean, but she's not particularly rude about it. "I'm getting used to it," she elaborates, "and I'm mostly getting chores I can handle pretty well. Cleaning and gardening and nannying and the like." She smiles at the goldrider, appreciative of the question — "Thanks for asking."

Dtirae shakes her head, but, she doesn't insist one way or another. There's another shift and she leans forward to consider the eggs from the galleries. "Thanks. She'll find me eventually, then. You really don't get much of a view up here." The woman shrugs regardless and considers Inyri's cleaning with a thoughtful gaze. "Could always try ta pawn it off." For shame, Weywomwan, encouraging slacking! "Luckily you ain't got the latrines, yet." A smile is given in return, "I enjoyed bein' a Candidate. Touchin' the eggs. The Sands was a dazin' experience. Was one of the first few to Impress, too, so the experience was kinda short."

Scrubbing now has turned into scraping with something that appears to be either a paint scraper or a spatula — it's not clear from looking at it where it is that Inyri got it from. Kitchen? Stores? Who knows. It is doing a good job of getting gunk out of that cushion, though. "I don't mind it yet. Cleaning. I probably will mind it when it involves latrines. Has anyone done that yet?" she asks, looking a bit curious about the whole 'touching eggs' part. "The eggs, I mean, not latrine cleaning. Or does it have to wait until they're a certain — size, age? Hardness? I heard they talk to people, kinda. Do things to your mind." She's evidently not asking if /that/ is true. Not directly, anyway.

Another candidate makes her way up to the galleries. Slow uncertain steps at first as if she is still unsure she should be here. Seeing others here, Eirwyn relaxes and takes the last few steps more confidently. As she notes the Senior amoung those here, she offers a salute to the woman before hunting down a seat, settling a notebook upon her lap as she does so. Her gaze is swift to take in the eggs down below.

"Cleanin', I always bailed for fishin'." The woman muses, "hunters shouldn't have ta clean, in my opinion. But, I did, when I didn't get someone ta trade with." Lips curl in a devious sort of grin before settling into some a little more friendly after a moment. "Yeah, they touch 'em. You'll get to touch 'em as well. Not for awhile. They're still a little squishy." She's tested. "I don't really remember many of the other eggs, but… I remember Zuvaleyuth's. She offered forever. A solid ground, unending partnership. Was drawn ta her egg… And, shells. She came out of it and found me. That was somethin' else." Eirwyn is given a look and then a friendly nod, but as the other candidate says nothing, the Weyrwoman offers nothing in return. For the moment.

Inyri only glances briefly at Eirwyn as she enters and gives a nod, a mouthed 'hi' — this isn't someone that she really knows, so much as a face she's maybe seen a time or two, so while she isn't unwelcoming she doesn't interrupt either her conversation or her bench-cleaning. "No, that's something that I thought kind of strange; shouldn't those of us who have jobs around here get to keep doing our jobs, for at least a little while? I hate to question tradition, but with the eggs still really soft," she's learned, at this point, that they harden more than they grow, at least, "why /can't/ I be tending the bar? Not that I mind the cleaning bit, and I can fish okay too, my father's a fisherman — but so long as I'm not getting drunk, and I never drink on duty, I don't see why …" Inyri trails off, finishing getting the stuck goo off the cushion and taking a momentary break for the sake of her wrists. When she speaks again, it's not about working: "That? Sounds incredible. She recognized you and everything?"

Eirwyn's study of the eggs down below is quickly distracted by the words of the Weyrwoman. The teen can't help but smile as she listens to the moment of impression. "Our watchrider looked the same way when he spoke of his impression. He was a stern old man, but when he talked about that moment…it was like he was lost in the joy of it." She shifts to look between the people and the eggs a thoughtful look upon her face in that moment. "What if someone can't stay once they touch the eggs? What if someone has made a connection like that…will they go to someone else?" She can't help but ask as she looks up to the weyrwoman.

"It's to learn 'bout discipline, duty and what not. Really, it's important ta learn 'bout what everyone does in the Weyr by doin' it. As a rider, you won't be subject to it and you'll be a higher rank, but knowin' what everyone does means you ain't goin' ta lord your rank over 'em." That's the woman's theory, at least. "You can't be tendin' a bar because yer not supposed ta be 'round alcohol, really. Might be temptin', or somethin'. 'Sides, the others would get jealous." The question earns a shrug, "ain't sure if she recognized me. But, that's what the touchin' is for. Less maulin' if the dragons recognize yer presence." Eirwyn speaks up and Dtirae looks in her direction, grinning widely with a touch of fondness for her lifemate for the recollection. "Plenty of people can't stay after they touch 'em. Some eggs are real emotional. Some are.. Different. It's okay ta step away and think over 'em." A pause as she considers. "Hard ta say if the connection will always end up with Impression. Sometimes, many connect to one egg."

"Or one connects to many could happen too, yeah?" Inyri guesses, satisfied for the most part with Dtirae's answer as regards her other job. Maybe /she/ never drinks, but she would be around alcohol all the time, so — fair's fair, if it's got to be. "I can imagine that could get confusing if it meant a huge amount to all the dragons. If they liked more than one person the same and they were both there; maybe it would depend on how they acted on the sands — oh, I don't want to think too hard about it, my brain might melt out my ears." The bench is almost clean, at least, looking near as good as the formerly mud-stained floors. "They've got to Impress someone, anyway."

Eirwyn listens quietly to the explanation from the Weyrwoman about their chores and can't help but smile, "Gives some of us clueless people an idea of how to do stuff around a weyr." She waggles bandaged fingers, "Hopefully next time in the kitchen will be better, if they allow me back in." At least there is some amusement in her tone at that. She sets her notebook down to move to the railing to consider the eggs more closely."They are real pretty to look at either way." She suggests in a softer voice as if speaking a thought outloud. She grins over to Inyri whenshe mentions that her brain might melt out of her ears, "Just came from the harpers and he gave me all this stuff on dragons to study…they are definately more complicated than I first thought."

"Impression is complicated. Best not ta think on it and let it be. It works out one way or another. Sometimes yer first time, sometimes yer second. They'll all Impress, either way. Zuvaleyuth says it is a strong clutch. 'm sure of it, to. Definitely going ta have a good pair of bronzes." Poor betters, not sticking around the Weyrwoman to hear her predictions, unless the Candidates choose to heed her words. "I got kicked out of doin' some chore… Ah. Infirmary duty. I was too rude, they said." A laugh and the woman beams a smile once again. "Dragons are complicated. Hopin' none of 'em inherit Zuvaleyuth's tongue."

Having heard all about it, Inyri laughs at the Weyrwoman's commentary re: the dragons' potential propensity for talking. "/That/ would be something, wouldn't it? But yeah, it's a bit wild; I'd never really interacted with dragons before, and even after moving here I was kind of — not anywhere as /inundated/ with dragons. On the outskirts, because the Tavern's not in the midst of the Weyr." She has to stop bench-washing for a moment to shove some hair that's fallen loose of the bun out of her face. "So I'm pretty much getting used to it now. And haven't even tried washing any of 'em bigger than the greens."

"I reckon I am glad enough to be searched. This is as far as I have ever spent from home for any length of time. Quite the adventure." Eirwyn says as she looks out over the eggs. "Do they change you?" She asks after a bit of silence before looking over her shoulder at the Weyrwoman. "I did not think the tubers would be such a challenging enemy to cross blades with, but they certainly got the better of me. At least I know it does not mean I am not worthy of a dragon." She says with a half smile before looking back out of the eggs then to Inyri, "This is definately the most dragons I have spent more than a couple days with. We had a watchdragon and sometimes we would travel down to Xanadu. I was there not even a sevenday as staff before I got searched for here."

Dtirae snorts, "they'd be takin' days just ta finish one conversation. But, she'd /adore/ it." There's a rumble from the sands in appreciation of that thought from the gold settled amongst her eggs. "Never interacted with 'em much even when I grew up here, not until Search and not until Zuvaleyuth." The woman shifts positions, arm folding across her chest. "Golds take forever to wash. Sometimes I get some of the brats ta do it for me." Eirwyn's question has her considering her, a thoughtful frown crossing her features. "Sometimes. The eggs? Not so much, some just really make you think. Yer lifemate? For sure. I talk better'n I did, when I feel like it, compared ta when I was not a rider. Learned a lot, not as blunt, can hold my tongue better. But, I still love hunting and playing games as well as havin' snowball fights." Whether or not that was the question, the woman is content with her answer.

"I can imagine you might need a small troupe to wash a gold," Inyri quips, expression brightening slightly at the mental image, smile quirking upward. "And I can't imagine having a dragon that talked like that, like. I think my head would explode, or I'd have to write everything down to keep up, if it's as bad as it sounds like." Despite that, though, she's smiling, which means the idea may or may not bother Inyri /that much/. The mental image of a gang of people washing dragons might still be what's making her laugh. "Everyone should love snowball fights," she adds, before giving the bench a good long look and declaring, "This is clean. I should probably get to the tables in the living caverns before I get scolded for not having 'em done by dinner." Mildly displeased face.

Eirwyn nods at the answer, seemingly satisfied with it. Eirwyn laughs at the mental image of washing a gold as well, "Oh dear…I can't imagine washing a dragon in the cold. We would sometimes help with the watch dragon, but so did the dolphins and dolphincrafters. It was a fun day at the beach for us." There is a soft sigh before she turns back to the stands to grab her notebook. "I suppose I should get onto the caverns myself." She salutes to the Weyrwoman before heading off once more.

"Almost. They have fun, Zuvaleyuth indulges them." The goldrider chuckles a moment before she shakes her head. "It took me awhile ta get what she meant. Didn't get a chance ta write it down, she'd talk so fast." A glance to Eirwyn and the salute is acknowledged with a nod before a wave follows. "Take care." A glance to Inyri, "best be off b'fore you get in trouble, hmm?" A wink towards the younger woman, while amusement plays in her smile.

"I never get in trouble." Inyri's return smile as she draws herself to her feet and gathers her supplies indicates just how true that /isn't/. "It was nice talking to you — Dtirae," she tries on for size, again, with a parting wave and glance over her shoulder before she heads off toward the Living Caverns. All the tables /will/ be clean and clear before dinner!


'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.