Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.
Winter, 18th Turn, 11th Pass
Winter is in full swing as the Northwest reaches the middle stages of the cold month, and Dalibor, taking full advantage of a crackdust filled break in Threadfall, is back at it again. Delving into the Southern ice and snow, they have paired with Grove Weyr to fully explore the lands they only slightly uncovered the previous turn during the Jungle Expedition. This, however, will not be a warm and relaxing waltz through the woods; although was it ever that to begin with?
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii
Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives
Oreanda of Bronze Osk & Blue Oresk - Ruin
Der of Grey Desk - Rii
K'ton of Blue Ironth- Jenn
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta
Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ives
Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo
Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin
. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.
Sweet Nothings, SU:18 (Cat/Sakoru)
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| No one had ever accused Ruane of being generous. Similarly, no one had ever suggested that she might be fair, warm-hearted, loving, or most other sorts of positive adjectives that went with them. However, she had rather frequently heard the implication that she had a wicked sense of humour, so perhaps that was primarily what drove her.
Did you just spend five hours digging through the Bowl looking for… that? Emath dubiously leaned over his rider’s shoulder to see what she had in her hands. Sensing his scrutiny – because the big crimson head hovering over her wasn’t enough of a giveaway – Ruane held up the firelizard egg in her hands. Even for a flit egg, it wasn’t very big, but it looked like it was in pretty good shape. How did you even find it?
I didn’t. Tigrea did. Now that the cyan flit was passed out on the floor, apparently oblivious to the fact that she could be crushed at any moment, her owner eyed her thoughtfully. I don’t know where she found it… Had she bothered to get any sort of an explanation from the cyan, Ruane might have had an answer to her question. But being the sort of person that preferred to live a life of mystery, she asked no questions and was told no lies, and here she was with her inexplicable flit egg.
…It’s got a dent in it. Emath paused, and then realized the judgment he was passing on the poor little egg, and snorted, reaching down to gently nose it – so carefully that it didn’t even move in Ruane’s hands. What if it’s like me, Ruane? What if she doesn’t like it?
Shifting the egg into one hand, the weyrling reached up to scratch her dragon’s chin with the other, planting an affectionate kiss on the side of his face as she stood up. She’ll love it – especially if it’s like you. Now, let’s go down – but land across the Bowl. I don’t see Koeneth anywhere, but forty marks says they both appear out of nowhere if you get too close. So saying, Ruane carefully placed the egg into a pot of sand, and then the well-padded satchel she’d slung over her shoulder, along with a little scrap of hide covered in charcoal scratchings.
Down they went, Emath’s glide occasionally interrupted by an anxious flutter of his little wings. During these brief moments, they would pause and drop a few feet as the burgundy almost tried to land and stop flying. Then they would continue before the next halting burst of nerves, and so on – but they made it safely to the ground. Emath was much more fond of landing than flying; he touched down gracefully, and with an affectionate slap to the burgundy’s neck, the rider was off and striding toward the barracks.
Rather deliberately (in case anyone was watching), she took a meandering, indirect route, and slipped into the barracks more as an apparent detour than anything else. Ruane was only inside for a few moments – long enough to verify that Nia wasn’t around, and she wasn’t in danger of getting caught.
When she left, roaming away aimlessly, she left behind a pot of warm sand, on top of the bit of hide so that it wouldn’t get dragged off by some ill-intentioned creature.
When Nia found it, Ruane would be long gone, but the note left behind said simply:
If you don’t know what this is, it’s a note. Probably you already found the egg on top. More than likely it’ll hatch out the world’s stupidest firelizard, judging by the dent.
Made me think of you! Enjoy your idiot pet. You could use another problem in your life.
ooc// Cat, this can be either a one-shot or we can make a real thread -- whatever you like! <3
"Branches may stop the ordinary man, but B'tor "slapper of jungle cats" is no ordinary man."
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