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

Fort Weyr - Candidate Barracks

Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this cavern has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants in comfort. Set into one of the long walls is a natural hearth area, not as large as some but more then enough to warm the cavern. Before it lays an old, well-worn rug that's colors have faded over turns of being un cared for. Mismatched chairs, an old couch, and a few randomly placed floor pillows finish up the sitting type area where candidates can relax after a long day of chores.
Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses with curtains dividing them for privacy, each made up to the standards of the Weyrwoman. The left hand row of cots is made up with coverlets of brown and trimmed in black for male candidates, while the right hand row is made up with a lighter brown coverlet that's trimmed in white for the female candidates.
Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours, while basket of emergency glows are stored in corners around the cavern for use during power outages.

Who just took an odd-hour bath and is tracking into the barracks with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his hips? Why, that would be Khyonai, of course. The guard-candidate scruffs a hand over his damp hair, obviously zombied-out and not exactly looking where he's going. This cannot spell anything but C-H-A-O-S in the near future.

Harmony is curled up on her cot, her hair tied up in ridiculous pink bows, blond tresses affecting a perfectly "messy" look. Dressed in a cute little outfit, she's focused more on something in her hand: an old hide. It seems to be the recipe for something, but more importantly it's the tool which allows the girl to give her fellow candidates looks askance from beneath the fringe of blond lashes. Assessing the bigger ones for their meat-shield ability. That day. That big day; it looms.

Lies! Or at least, Khyonai isn't the only candidate so "dressed" — he isn't even the only guard-candidate suffering through that. Kazulen, for one, is at least also wearing a second towel around his shoulders, and he remembered to wear sandals. Yes, they're the sandals he'll be wearing out onto the Sands, too. No, the towel isn't his robe. That's … in front of Khyonai, ready to be stepped on. Oops. "Anyone have anything to eat?" he calls out.

Inyri has some time off today; not /all/ day, but she's got a little bit of time before lunch, apparently. So she's perched on her cot, legs crossed, brushing out her hair from the tight braid it had been in. One side is exploding in a mess of frizz, and the other is relatively flat against her head. Both firelizards are at the foot of her cot; Liechten's eating something, and Lyonette is actually asleep curled up against the brozne's side. "You look like works of art," Inyri tells the firelizards, and then looks up when Kazulen speaks — "Uh, he does, you can fight him for it. I'm not sure what it is."

One big bare still-damp footprint is heading DIRECTLY for Kaz's robe. Khyonai does step on it, owlishly blinks down at it, and removes his offending foot to show a somewhat grimy footprint. Whups. "Ask Harmony. I'm /s-uu-uu-uuuuuure/ she has /something/," he valiantly attempts to redirect Kaz's attention to the errant blonde, and not his now-besmirched robe, skirting around said article to address his own cot.

Mikal oomphs a bit as he plops down across his cot. Free time from the kids. For a bit! Heaving a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and finds bits of mashed tubers. "Ewww." he complains. Elsie hops over to inspect this food that's coming out of her pet's hair!

Edani probably ought to head /to/ the baths, because he's been working in the beastpens today and so the scent of herdbeast clings. First, though, to unlock his press and get the clean undies he's keeping safe from Hotaru.

A glare is reserved for Khyonai, the implication of fatness adding heat to sugar'd confection of Harmony’s voice, "Me? Have /food/?" Psh! She turns back to the thing in her hand, ignoring everyone. Except. Head lifts. Two fingers point to her two eyes, then one finger points back to Inyri. Secret language, yo! Then surreptitiously, she jerks her head towards the bigger guys. Then? Back to her hide.

Abigail can be found on her cot, dozing it seems, one firelizard is draped over her neck while the other is curled up at the end of it chewing on something that looks like food. A slight yawn escapes Abbey and she lifts her head peering out over the others curious like. "What are ye all talking about?" Is questioned with a faint grumble while she sits up, her firelizard falling into her lap with a faint warble escaping him.

"Khyonai." Kazulen's voice is flat, shocked, downright horrified — just a tiny bit pissed off, and underneath all of that, a few shades of reluctant amusement.

The fact that Edani has to hide clean underwear from Hotaru is uproariously hilarious — good thing Khyonai /doesn't/ know that yet. "What, sweetling?" he faux-titters towards Harmony, and owlblinks at Kaz. "Look. What /really/ is the likelihood that the eggs are going to hatch /right now/? Seriously, man."

After glancing over at Harmony and shooting a wink in the baker's direction, Inyri puts her hairbrush down and turns all the way to face the guards. "I'm pretty sure you just made it a lot more likely by saying that," she tells Khyonai, deadpan.

Eirwyn is getting ready for the day and despite her mopiness of the last few days, one look at the choreboard put a bit more life into her. The Stables, her most favorite chore. She is getting dressed in some of her older clothes and she goes over to Zaala's cot and sends on the end of it. "It looks like they learned and put me back on stables today." She murmurs and then glances around at some of the others and trying to figure out what is going on.

"The odds were pretty good that I'd have time to get that cleaned right up until you said that!" is Kazulen's answer, of course. And because this is supposed to be his Big Day — there's a bronze out there with his name on it! — he's now promptly freaking out and slinging his sopping-wet hair towel at Khyonai, in full-on whippy mode. It slings water across everyone and everything in its path, naturally enough.

Edani has to hide his pants too! Which is… really mystifying to tell the truth! What would Hotaru do with those anyway? Probably have every fourteen turn old in the Weyr sign them in purple-inked girly scrawls and hearts, who knows? "They'd better not," he all but growls about the eggs.

Oh the withering of the glance Harmony shoots Edani. But see, the girls have formed a Plan and it's a mighty plan for whatever shall happen when Inyri and Harmony put their heads together. Sugar and spice and /everything/ not nice. So Edani is treated to a sugary sweet smile, a confection of cotton candy and knives. "Oh, Edani." Sympathy from the girl should start the warning bells of suspicion. Meat shields!

Zaala looks up from where she's brushing her hair, immune to the chitter of the others in the barracks. After all the long weeks, a person learns what is interesting and what is not. And that means she's currently absorbed in herself. Her eyes lift from her long wild hair, still frizzy because of the snow, peering at Eirwyn, "That's good. Or maybe someone did it on purpose because they knew you liked oogling." She winks, teasing her friend, brushing away calmly, not feeling all the jazz that everyone else is.

Abigail blinks while peering at Kazulen and Khyonai, a brow lifting while she folds her legs close to her and tilts her head. A soft chuckle escapes her. "I'm sure it'll come off; just give it a good shake?" Well that is what she would totally do with it. Hearing Eirwyn talk to Zaala she grins to her. "I'm sure I'll see ye there soon enough." A soft snicker escapes her as the 'oogling' bit.

"Eargh," is Khyonai's so-appropriate reply to all the grar headed towards him, but most especially to that wet towel that hits him directly in the face. "You /could/ have worn mine, in the hypothetical condition that the hatching was pre-eminent," the guard offers to his fellow, "Except that you just -hit me in the face- with your -used towel-." He balls up said article and pitches it back towards Kaz. If it happens to miss him and continue trajectory past to Harmony, no big deal, right?

Inyri unsuccessfully ducks water-trajectory, though at least she doesn't get hit right in the face by it. And the towel totally misses her, so thank Faranth for small favors. "And then what would you wear?" she demands of Khyonai, though at least there's laughter behind it, rather than anything accusatory. That or she doesn't want to know.

"I'd like to see you stop me from taking it!" Kazulen retorts, rapid-fire diving past
Khyonai in an attempt to shuffle through his things and find his robe. You know, the one that doesn't have a wet-grime footprint getting rubbed into it. Also, the one that's tailored for someone of slightly different proportions to Kaz — if he actually succeeds in getting it on, it's going to be on the short side. "He can wear mine! He's the one who got it filthy!" It's been upgraded from 'slightly soiled', now.

Mikal also is ignoring most of what's going on within the barracks. Just another crowded, typical day it seems. Still though one doesn't always get to enjoy the brief break in nanny duties so he takes advantage of it. Once his hair is free of any food, or so he hopes there's no more up there, he fishes out a meatroll from his pouch to offer to Elsie. That done he pulls out his candidate robe to add some last minute stitches. It's nearly done! Mostly. Just a few more stitches left….

The humming of dragons fills the air around Fort Weyr. With each passing second the thrumming grows in volume, which can mean only one thing: it's Hatching time! And if that weren't a clue, there's a small AWLM running in only moments later, shooing a couple of Candidates into the barracks. "Time to get changed into those white sacks dears!" Miki leans against one of the walls as her lips curl up into a wide smile. "And don't forget your sandals, we wanna avoid burnt feet."

Eirwyn is braiding her own hair to get it out of the way for her work of the day as she talks to Zaala and Abigail. "Oh Zaala…you didn't mind so much either. Remember the shaggy haired one?" She asks and nudges the blond with her foot. Abigail gets a smile, "I think the Nanny's must like you, you are on kid duty again! Reckon that is about as messy as the stables some days and I certainly would rather herd runners instead of kids." There is a glance to the others and the plotting going on, "That poor beastcrafter has been teased so much by those girls."

Oh what a fine tither the tather of the towel tossing causes. "You no good—!" Harmony squeals, soprano voice rising to it's ear-piercing highest pitch. A heated glare of sharp beryl eyes would fry Khyonai in his boots were looks to actually have the ability to kill. Shooting off the bed, her little hide fluttering to the floor, she makes to hook claws (fingernails) into Khyonai. Seems our little baker's a mite touchy today. Is she stalking? Advancing? She's the girl with the pumped up kicks… Maybe. It's comical how quickly she comes to an arrested halt at the sudden hum. "THE VOLCANO IS ERUPTING!!" Um.

Rounding up candidates is a bit easier than herding cats. At least most of them know what they ought to do when the dragons start to hum. That doesn't stop A'lin from rushing around frantically as things start to be set in motion. In fact, the assistant weyrlingmaster comes bursting through the barracks door with such ferocity it's a miracle that it's still on its hinges. Under one arm he's got a rather small male candidate, who has no choice but to lay limply as A'lin carries him along and set him onto his cot. "Let's go candidates! The eggs with not wait for you! Put on your robes! Put on your sandals! Make sure your hair it out of your face! Look lively!" He claps his hands and trots about the room. "Line up at the door when you're ready!"

Inyri throws one of her pillows at Khyonai.

Wait, whut? First a withering glance, then a sugary smile? Edani has whiplash from the rapid change. He knows nothing of any plans, but for that footprint on the robe, his consolation is, "It's just dirt." He's got the key in the lock of his hamper. CLICK! The shirt comes off, shoes kicked off and socks peeled off right after. Those go in the dirty clothes and the lock is snapped back. Then there's that sound. "Oh no," he groans.

Humming? The look on Khyonai's face is PRICELESS. He immediately redirects all attention into whipping off his towel — he's shameless, hello — and diving headfirst into his own robe. "It's not my fault!" is his muffled comment, followed by an "Ow" as Inyri clocks him with a pillow. Needless to say: poor Kaz is on his own with his Terribly Soiled Nasty Footstep-wearing Robe.

Hotaru scrambles into the barracks from apparently the caverns. She's got a sandwich hanging out of her mouth, and it stays there even as she's pulling on her robe and her sandals. Every so often she takes a bite and hangs onto it from another corner. Thankfully nothing is falling out of it, otherwise she'd end up with a big splotch on her supposed-to-be-white robe. Even as they start lining up, Hotaru is still munching away. Well, no one wants to go to a hatching on an empty stomach, right? One is likely to pass out in the heat that way. Yes Kazu, Hotaru has a delicious sandwich. BE JEALOUS.

Borodin blinks his eyes open from a nap at the voices - and a moment later, that hum. Right! Robes, robes, here's his, and he pulls it on (backwards, but who's going to be paying attention, right?) and shoves his feet into sandals and makes for the door!

Etzlix is one of the candidates being shooed in by the greenrider. She immediately makes her way to her cot, hopping about as she wiggles out of her clothes and slips into her robe and sandals. It doesn't take her too long, and soon she's lined up and ready to go. The quiet woman glances around, looking for familiar faces. There are nervous smiles and waves for them. But for the most, she's just quiet.

Zaala gives a gusty sigh, "Yes. He's still cute I think, but not worth the smell at the end of the day." She teases, looking over to Abigail with a small smile and finger wave. But before she gets to say much else, that noise starts and the humming causes her to get to her feet. "Wyn!" she says with excitement, "This is it! It's time! Oh Faranth's golden tail!" She practically lets her brush fall to her feet and jumps to grab her robe, "Quick." And that's her struggling to get into her robe, "I hope I don't look too stupid in this!" Join the club, everyone looks like white sacks.

Mikal blinks as Elsie stops eating the meatroll and starts humming. "Huhh…what?" he's just got that last stitch in and now it's time to wear it. With a startled yelp he hops up to kick off boots and slings the curtain around his cot to change though it only gets halfway across before he's already out of his clothes and shoving on his robe.

Harmony is quick when she needs to be. A robe so pristine white it may as well be woven of whipped cream is thrown on, as well, sandals of graham-colored goodness are adorned to small feet. Blond hair still has bows of sweet pink, forgotten in her haste. "We're gonna /die/," she wails, loudly. Then, to Inyri she cleaves.

"I am going to kill you," Kazulen tells Khyonai with a smile born of gritted teeth and malice. "Just so you know that. In the walk to the sands, I am going to kill you." All of this is said, of course, as he abandons his vain attempt to find Khy's robe — how DARE he put it THERE! — and very, very begrudgingly pulls himself into the now-damp, thoroughly-grimy robe. He keeps the towel, of course. Maybe he can use it as a disguise. Artful draping, at its best. Right? — Mikal's meat roll is getting a desperate look of longing, for that matter.

At least you don't smell like dragonfood, Khyonai! There's no time for a bath now and all Edani can do is grab the towel he'd had and wipe his face, chest, armpits and go for his robe. Hotaru at least has no interest in THAT does she?

Pillow dispatched, point made, Inyri has to give up on her hair — which means that half of it is a frizzy mess and the other half looks fine, but it's down, which she hates — in order to find her robe and slip into it. She's the master of the quick-change, but that doesn't mean she's entirely delicate about it; there's some loose hair getting tangled in buttons, and maybe a dislodged fingernail or something. All but her smallest necklace get removed, sandals are found (one has decidedly been chewed by a certain small bronze) and she moves to attach herself to Harmony as promptly as possible.

Khyonai is wet but clothed, and now he moves to headlock Kaz if the other guard isn't ready for it, in a rare show of comraderie. Then— it's go time!

Abigail makes a face at the nanny bit. "Yes I think so.. An I'm going to wind up losing most of my hair if this keeps up." A soft sigh escapes her at the thought. At the sudden new voice in the mist of everyone she looks up and erks sharply. Robes…that would be good to have now! She pushes the firelizard away that was just starting to fall back asleep and goes about pulling out her robe, which is given a good shake and pulls on her sandals while hopping on one foot and nearly stumbling down onto her cot for her efforts. Sandals on, robe sort of wrinkled but another shake is given too it and she is getting it on as well.

All of this is to say that no, Kazulen hasn't even noticed Hotaru's sandwich, or he'd be willing to reconsider the boyfriend thing if she'd share it. Instead, some careful, quick work of knotting a long chunk of white cord around his waist — and around that towel — means that now he has something of a loincloth on over his robe. "Personal item," he mutters to whichever AWLM is closer, and dashes out to the sands. Good thing he never had to take off his sandals!

Edani wanted a BATH, dammit! But nooo, the eggs had to ruin that little plan, so out onto the sands he goes smelling like herdbeast ripe for the slaughter. He’s got bare seconds to throw his white robe onto his filthy self, stuff his bare feet into his sandals and scuff them on the stone floor to settle them properly on as he follows the others out. It’ll be a miracle if he isn’t the one mauled despite Harmony’s wailed worry she’ll be the one.