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.
Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass
Wedding bells ring out to celebrate the joining of Lord Callum to Lady Shuli. A grand gather has been put together with people from all over Pern coming to celebrate! Crescent is full to the brim with those who wish to show their support and those just looking to make (or spend) a few marks!
Copper Zelsk shook things up at the Copper Class graduation feast by beginning her run shortly after the knots were delivered to her handler. Bronze Osk won Zelsk's maiden run and now a sizable clutch lays on the sands hardening. Not to be outdone by the ground-bound copper, Copper Laanasuth took to the skies the very next day - though her flight was not as cut and dry as the wher's run had been. Offended by the force catch attempt of a presumptuous burgundy Laanasuth betweened to High Reaches Weyr where one of their dragons won her flight. Though she has returned to Dalibor and laid a large clutch for Dalibor's candidates the Weyr awaits the transfer of the dragon sire and his rider, Dalibor's newest Junior Weyrleader.
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives
Oreanda of Bronze Osk - 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.
Finding Nemosk., WI: 14; Red Class 3-6 Month Lesson
Wrangler of Muses
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They'd been down to the Harbor before; after the catastrophe with the Creeping Storms, Ijo had taken his Class to the dining hall for supper, and then down to the water for games and anything to get their minds off of what had happened. The last thing he needed was to face the prospect of losing any of his mini-Handlers because they witnessed something horrific.
Isk lead the troupe of Handlers and Wherets along the river towards the Harbor once more; the Brown was well aware of Slosk's presence close by, and Ijo had been warned. The Wherlingmaster carried a bucket of fish with him, using his feet to nudge overzealous wherets away. It was specifically for Slosk that he'd brought the treat, as a means to keep the...semi?...wild Iron away from his charges. Isk was there to make doubly sure that the slightly bigger male didn't get too close.
"You've all been here before," he spoke up on the walk, his saber hanging at his side as a means to thwart any would-be predators, along with Czervon and Czervosk; the Blue and his Handler were in accompaniment for a good reason - both as Crafter, and as extra protection from wilds. Czervon had also prodded his whermate and Prideleader, Der, with his Gray, Desk. The Fisher carried a full tackle box, and each one of the Wherlings, their Wherlingmaster, and the Prideleader had been gifted a cane-pole with attached line and weights. As any proper cane pole, it had no reel, only a coil of extra line; they would be fly-fishing off the coast, in the somewhat calmer waters of the harbor itself.
"Remember, there are Wilds around. The Iron that frequents these shores will probably not harm you or your wherets, but we aren't taking any chances. Please make sure you stay where you can be seen, your wherets do not wander off, and if you see anything, that either myself or Czervon are informed immediately. Oreanda, please inform your dolphin that we will be fishing here on the coastline, within the harbor. I don't want him or any of his pod being struck by hooks, lures, or otherwise. If they stay about a dragonlength off the end of the dock, I believe they'll be well clear."
As they reached the harbor, Czervosk ventured out with Isk to form a perimeter around the wherlings, while Desk had the option of following or staying to keep an eye on things. Czervon set his tackle box down, and popped it open amid the dusting of soft snow.
"Everyone come get a lure," he announced, laying one for each of them out on the top. "Now, some of you might be asking, 'why aren't we using bait?'. That's the trick - lures take the place of bait. It relies on your prey's sight, not their sense of smell. With the water being so cold, scent doesn't travel as well, but there's no haze in the water to keep them from seeing. The weight's made of glass, so when it's in the water, it's transparent. All they'll see is the lure, and when you pull the line like I show you, it'll move exactly like prey."
Czervon pulled up his bootstraps, hooking them into his belt as the leather went up his thighs to keep the water out, and the warmth in. He liked to fly-fish slightly away from shore, but for the sake of their clothing and their wherets, the wherlings would be fishing from just into the surf.
"Now," he spoke up, as Ijo got his own pole sorted out and waded in down the line, making sure to stagger his class. "This isn't like regular fishing, where you just bait a hook, toss out the line and wait. This is called fly-fishing, and the lure you're using is called a fly. It's normally done more in still water, but since there's a better supply of fish out here, and your Wherlingmaster wanted to get you out of the Weyr for a while, we're fishing the harbor. I know some of you have friends out here, too," he looked pointedly at Oreanda, "And having a bit of a survival lesson would probably be a good thing. We're going to catch our own fish, and then I'm going to teach you how to clean and cook it. This way, if you're ever wanting something that isn't herdbeast, or there's a need for fishing, you'll be another person who knows how to help."
Czervon took several steps further out, the cane pole's long length flexible in the soft breeze. The surf lapped at his knees and thighs, but he didn't let any of the others venture further in than he already was.
"You want to stay staggered, that way your line doesn't catch with someone else's. Hold the line firmly with your non-dominant hand, and use your dominant hand to whip the pole towards the direction you want the lure to go. Never go over your head, always from the side, like you're throwing a disc. Let the line slide through your fingers, this is why you have gloves on, even when the weather's warm enough not to need them. The idea is to bob the lure at the end of the line; let it sink a little bit, and coil your line with the other hand, then pull it back up towards the surface and let it sink some more. Eventually, coiling it will bring it back in to you. If you feel a bite, don't yank back as soon as it hits. You want your fish to go a little bit with the lure, that way it sets the hook and you've got a good bite. Lots of these fish are smart, if you pull the line as soon as they touch it, they'll know it's a trap and they'll let it go. Patience is as much a part of Fishercraft as knowing where to fish, what lure to use, and all that. You don't have to master the craft to be a good fisher, you just have to be patient and know what to do, when."
Czervon worked the line repeatedly, pulling back and instead of coiling the line in his hand, looped it loosely instead.
"Make sure if you aren't coiling your line, that it's not going around your leg, or your wheret. If you hook something big enough, and it catches a body part, the run out could cut all the way down to the bone. If you catch something, you want to wrap the line around the handle of your cane pole, to keep your fish from getting away from you. Then, you start to pull it in. Again, a reason why you wear gloves. Nothing that can be caught on his line will pull any of you in. The line will break if something too big hooks onto it, and trust me, you'll know when that happens. Anyone have any questions?"
Once everyone had caught at least one fish (Czervon waited until there was enough for everyone to have at least one), he moved to the dock to show them how to gut and de-scale it.
"First, you have to take off the scales," He turned his knife - a machete almost, given how large it was - to the backside, using the blunt end to scrape the scales off the creature's hide. "Most of them are already dead by now; they don't live long out of the water, if you want to be merciful to them, cut off their heads. We're going to have to do that anyway, but some people are squeamish about it. You can save them for the felines at the Weyr, or sometimes wherets like to eat them. Most whers, when full grown," Czervon chucked one of the smaller ones at Isk, who caught it between his teeth and sucked it down, "Eat them whole. For us, though, we don't, so we have to clean them. Now, you can eat them raw, most of them, but again, lots of people don't like the taste or the texture."
He used the end of his knife, holding the fish by the tail, and cut a line from the gills all the way to just shy of his fingers.
"You want to open it up, and for this part, you can use your hands or the end of the knife, but be careful with your fingers. It really stings if you cut them." He showed them how to remove the innards, flicking them towards the water. Seawherries were waiting to dive in and snap them up.
"Once everything's cleaned out, you have to contend with the bones. For some of these fish, you can just eat the bones, too. They're so small that they don't hurt anything, and you barely taste them. For others, though, you use your fingers and the knife. Cut the two sides along the backbone, but don't go all the way through. Just to one side of the bones, where you can feel them, and then the other side, once you flip it over. Then you cut it," he showed them, cutting just behind the head, "And then cut along the backbone to remove them. That whole piece, there, has all the bones in it. You can also cook the entire fish before you take the bones out, sometimes that makes it easier." He cut a piece of the whitefish, eating it off the back of his knife.
"Anyone want to try it? And are there any questions? Make sure your lures are secured with your lines, we don't want anyone tripping or anything, or getting hit with hooks."
"Once everyone's finished with their fish," Ijo spoke up afterwards, "We're going to have a bit of a relay race from the lower caverns to the Bowl and back. Your wherets will be giving you random items - prompted by myself and Isk - for you to find and bring back to them. We will be starting at the lake in the center of the Handler's Barracks, and you will have to run out to the Bowl, go retrieve your item, leave it somewhere in the Bowl - within the area you're allowed to be, and then return. You will tag your wheret, and they will have to follow the visible images given by you, to them, to show them - as you will not be allowed to tell them, only show them - what item is yours, and where exactly it's located. I encourage you to hide it, though not extremely - this will help the both of you fine-tune your mental communication. If they have not found it in five minutes, you are permitted to give them the name of the item, and a hint where it is. A HINT, not the location itself. You may give them clues, as far as what color it is, what purpose it has, or what it's made out of. Czervon will be patrolling the Bowl, Der will be stationed just inside the tunnel out, to make sure your wherets are protected and that nobody cheats. The first one to successfully find their item, hide it, help their wheret find it, and bring it to Isk, will get an extra rest day this sevenday, as well as being able to choose one other wherling pair for the same. Please be careful - do not be rude to the Drudges who may be working, do not run over one another, and please be mindful of the wherets who may be in the corridors at the same time. Der will be in the corridor; wherets must pass to his left, wherlings to his right. Be mindful, and safe."
[[Feel free to answer only one part of the lesson, or both. It's up to you! Ijo will have Isk tell your Wherling what item they are supposed to scavenge, and hide in the Bowl. Ijo will, in fact, be giving everyone an extra rest day this sevenday, for good behavior and their listening during the Creeping Storm plot event .]]
Items for Each Wherling:
Riyd / Riysk - A seashell
Einon/ Eisk - A garden spade
Galya / Gask - A stuffed teddy bear
Oreanda / Osk - A small bell
Runner / Rusk - A Mark
Liamaedra / Liask - A Baker's spoon
Yoris / Yorisk - A small mirror (any size)
Brandy / Brask - A glass bottle (of any size)
Irrin / Irrisk - A candle (any size)
Kelah / Kesk - A brush
Dabriye / Dabysk - A child's rattle
Vinlos / Visk - A pair of Fisher's knots
Carrolly / Carrosk - A Drudge's pair of gloves
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The sea. It was the cold season now, as Ijo led them down toward the distant docks she could feel the cool snowflakes drifting down to lay on her warm cheeks where they promptly melted, leaving behind only a fine droplet of water. The air was crisp, it felt good to breathe it in, like it was cleaning out every bit of what was inside of her and wiping away the dirt and grime. She had never really enjoyed the season before. Akke was a shallows dwelling dolphin, he didn't carouse in the depths like the bottlenoses, they had lived in the tropical areas of Pern for most of their life--which meant any winter they experienced was never comparable to Dalibor's season. Here, however, she had known the cold season as a time without him. He'd always been forced to migrate back to warm waters to avoid the chill. She would have been alone, if it wasn't for Osk. @Kiran
Even though she knew the waters by the docks would not hold her oldest friend, she also knew that this was going to be a new experience for her growing wher, and she was happy. Oreanda was attentive as they walked, her tongue fluttered curiously in her mouth as they went; she had no need for clicking right now, her fingertips lazily dragging across Osk's spines and delicate wingspars as they whispered past her general darkness. She promised him that they'd work more on seeing when he was larger--he'd finally outgrown her ability to manage his weight and length. Curiously, she wondered at when it had happened, but found that she could not place her finger on it: Sometime between now and the Creeping Storms she'd simply stopped trying.
She and Osk had angled for a lead position on the way out of the Weyr, falling just off Isk's flank, if not innocently vying to be abreast--he had a lot of Handlers to help him this time, but that hadn't stopped them from appearing as front and center as they could be. You know, just in case. Chores, studies, they devoured anything their Wherlingmaster seemed intent on giving them. Oreanda's body had been hardened by the sea, she did not shirk from hard work, and Osk was an even match of pride and duty. Her fingers told her all she needed to know about the way his muscles were filling out across his body. Food, oil, water, starlight, and work. Ijo would be stuck with them for the long haul. "The fishwher?" she accused, before laughing. "I took him into the Weyr with me during the big storm a few winters ago, we stayed with Selkyth and her Skalla."
Oreanda felt Osk's wing flutter against her hip and grasped the wrist joint delicately. "He likes to poach fish, I think Akke likes to feed him. If we lose any fish on the line it'll probably be him, he's a good swimmer you know. I'll let the pod know," she chirped, before falling into a silent remembrance of the smelly beast and all her brief meetings with him. She probably hadn't done anything but encourage his encroachment into the Weyr, but as far as she was concerned, he was no more dangerous than the dolphins. It was just unfortunate he couldn't speak. Osk, darling, will you let Endellion know we're fishing. She'll take care of the Bell. If I ring it, I'll have to take the pod's report, and that'll take too much time from the lesson. We have work to do here first
The wher pressed into her legs to signal that they were stopping, allowing the others to filter around them and reach the fishing equipment first--Anda was really only here on the principle of it being required. She could catch fish in her bare hands or with a spear--all this fancy equipment was just excessive to her. Endellisk, this Osk. Probably already know, but we are fishing. Some of these look very not promising for fishing with fish pounce, best keep pod away unless Endellion wants remove hooks instead of bloodfish. Also Oreanda and Osk say hi, is us Osk shook himself, breaking off the contact and then nudging his snout into his Handler's leg to urge her on. Going to pick fish pouncing my way, yes? Fish pouncing?
Yes, Czervon has said pounce for fish Oreanda laughed softly, under the carefully feigned glower of her wher. Tackle, not pounce, it's umm...bits and pieces of things that help lure and catch fish. We aren't going to actually jump on them. Well not now. I'll teach you how to pounce fish when you're bigger, though from what the others are saying, Riysk will be the best at the water. She could feel Osk bristle next to her, a wave of hurt pride washing around her. I will be as best as can be, doesn't matter anything else, Oreanda. Yes of course, we will both be the best, Osk she soothed, hooking her fingertip against one of his neck spines and allowing him to lead her to where Czervon had laid out the lures. That one the wher said, honing in on a wickedly sharp hook wrapped with bright yellow fibers and spotted wherry feathers falling over a gleaming weight of glass.
Oreanda plucked it up, using a quick click and Osk's vision to orientate to it on her third attempt, careful not to prick herself from the odd angle she was coming in. Why this one? Osk considered her question briefly before replying, I would eat, if I stupid. Oreanda giggled, waited for the others, and the followed their teacher down into the surf. She'd dressed warmly, but there was very little that would keep out the freeze of those waters, she honestly did not relish a dip into them, especially at night. You must not go out, do you understand? The pod might not be nearby, Akke isn't here. The ocean is a powerful force, it covers the whole world unbroken, if it gets a hold of you it will pull you out deeper and deeper and it's possible no one will save you. Akke and I will teach you all about the ocean in the summer, how to recognize the movement of the currents by eddies in the silt and the feel of it across your flesh. That day is not this day, don't stray from me, not even if I catch a fish and look like I'm going to lose it. All it'll take is just one wrong step and the sand will drop away from beneath your feet.
She had gone on something of a babbling rant, realizing all at once how vulnerable he would be, how vulnerable she had been when she was only five turns old, and that her saviour so many times over was not there for them. She felt Osk processing what she had said, his wingtips trembling though the snow was no more cold to him than the Sands of the Hatching Cavern. The ocean be like a predator, I will not being disrespectful of it he promised solemnly, earning him a tight hug from Anda as she crouched down to scoop him into an embrace. The wher chuffed under his breath and batted at her with one of his curled paws. If you lose fish, I let it swim away and laugh at you, understand? She nodded. Sounds wonderful
It wasn't wonderful.
The experience with the tackle and rod and the whole complex mess of it ended up being one of the worst attempts at accomplishing anything to join her resume. Along with being a Fishcrafter and nearly drowning on her first day at sea, and not eavesdropping on dragons. On her first cast she successfully hooked her own leg. Howling in surprise and dropping to the ground until some enterprising person came and removed the beastly metal from her leg--as Osk couldn't focus away from her pain and horror enough to give her a clear image. We'll practice seeing more, okay, I promise she soothed him after it had been removed while she waited for her leg to be bandaged so the blood would stop. Osk was convinced she'd be eaten alive by some horrific monster from the depths. The fishwher wouldn't eat me, she assured him.
On her second cast, she hooked her wher, and the entire experience was reversed and re-imagined while she tried to stay out of the way of yet another enterprising individual and still apologize profusely to her deservedly annoyed lifemate. I'm really not good at this, I'm so sorry, Osk tossed his head at the pair of hands working on his flank, where the hook had lodged itself deeply due to Oreanda's attempt to "set it" when she thought she'd caught a fish. Oreanda not think anything of it, find maybe better way for you to catch fish, not so good at pounce them I think His eyes flared crimson and his muscles rippled as the hooked was pulled free. No, you can't bite them, they are helping you the wher sighed. A great huffing release of air, his head dropping to the cool moist sand as he waited for them to finish. Would bite you instead, but would only hurt me too so no bother. She tried not to laugh.
It was somewhere around the fourth or fifth cast--Osk had removed himself to stand warily out of range of any of the other fishers present on the beach--when she finally caught a fish only to have it break the fishing line completely. Making a noise somewhere between the wail of a dying cat and the growl of an angry wher, she waded into the water until she slipped fully beneath the waves. Osk stood, warily looking out over the ocean lest it try to devour his Handler, but she returned only a few minutes later, brandishing a fish speared neatly through the middle with the pole. She stalked out of the surf, blowing water out of her nostrils, her short hair plastered against her temples and neck as she hefted the large fish while it bent the cane in an arc over her shoulder. "I know," she growled at Ijo as she passed him, using Osk's eyes to triangulate her relative location in the mess of wherlings, "double chores." Grumpily she stalked over to where the other more successful fishers were waiting to learn how to carve up their catch.
This, she at least would know how to do.
Osk trotted over to join her, the swirl of his faceted eyes spiraling to a point to meet Isk's gaze as he went past, where she had already accepted a blanket to wrap up in. He coiled around her where she sat, vibrating his warmth into her body. I think you be very bad fish pouncer, Oreanda, but good at making Ijo very angry. I am glad ocean did not eat you. Why have to clean fish, I don't care how nice fish look, just feed to me. Anda nuzzled into the spicy scent of his neck and laughed. It isn't for you, it's for me. Did you know I like raw fish? But the bones are very dangerous for me. Not so much for you. Osk considered this, Oreanda is also bad at eating? The girl's mouth dropped and she said "I am not," incredulously out loud before she realized that she had. She gave it a couple moments of thought and then conceded.
Yes. Humans are small and weak and can't just eat bones like whers can. We don't have chompers like you do, but we do like to eat the sweet marrow from inside the bones. You know, once we crack them open with tools. But tiny fish bones like the ones in this fish, they can get lodged inside of us because we don't have the hardy stomachs to digest them, then they can dig into us and cut us and cause all sorts of problems. I knew people who died from eating fish bones. They're only worse when cooked too. She nodded, all matter of fact, in the wher's general direction. Osk snorted softly, well try not wasting all fish to get out little bones. I won't, she assured him. I can get so much meat off this thing you won't even believe it, and I'm not even going to cut myself this time, just you wait and see.
To her everlasting credit she did wait just long enough for everyone to gather and Czervon to begin the lesson, before she broke down her fish. Descaling was the most time consuming part, she moved her sharp knife up and down the large fish starting at the tail, careful to snip away the skin around the puncture hole. This one won't win any awards for beauty, but I won't starve to death either, Oreanda admitted. One side, then the other, was shaved. These fish scales can be insidious, normally I would just skin it and be done with it, but they want us to scale it first. Once all the scales were gone, she dunked the fish off the dock and rinsed it in the surf before filleting it. Her knife slid in around the gills and curved up following the slope of its head to avoid cutting off any delicious meat. She hooked in along the spine, careful to follow the quiet hiss of metal one bone so she wouldn't leave much, if any, wasted flesh behind. Then she separated the fillet with a sharp jerk down to the tail and laid it skin-side down on the dock.
Don't you eat my hard work, or let anyone else eat it, she cautioned her young wheret. He took his guarding job very seriously, even though he did really want to eat the fish. Quickly, Oreanda finished with the other fillet. The actual cutting of the fish took her less than forty seconds to accomplish, and when she was done rinsing her hands in the briny sea she crawled back over to feel Osk's mental presence pressing around her with anticipation. What? Ready for eating now? Well, no. There are pin bones. Very small bones. If it's a small fish and you're cooking it they'll get soft in the heat, but I like to eat my fish raw, and, again, dangerous. But... Oreanda grinned. She never had been one for etiquette, she was raised by a dolphin and lived in the sea, giving one of the long fillets to Osk to enjoy, along with the head, she began eating her way around the pin bones of her own fillet.
They ate their fill, or rather, she ate her fill and Osk cleaned up the scraps, then they rested and waited for the others to finish and for Ijo to lead them to the Handler Quarters for the next part of their lesson. See, I told you I can't rely too much on your vision, they're splitting us up already. Osk chuffed just a little bit, conceding that sometimes his Oreanda was right, because she was a good choice and smart. It was an easy walk back through the falling snow, enjoyable even, but they both already had their minds on being good at this new trial. Maybe they couldn't be the best, but they were going to shoot for the top position. They waited, or rather, Oreanda waited for Osk to tell her what the item was...small bell
Isk has said, any small bell. Then you hide and show me images of where it is.
Did they forget I can't see?
Maybe this punishment for walking into ocean and always making Ijo mad?
Probably. Anda set out at once to find a small bell. She didn't even know what people did with small bells. Do you think if I took the Dolphin Bell...they'd notice? I don't think you can move that Bell Osk said, subverting her joke. She jogged lightly through the Wherhole Courts, clicking her tongue, and didn't even stop as she passed Der on his right. She did, however, give him a cheeky salute. "I have to see a person about a thing," she announced with a chuckle. If you can't laugh at yourself, who could you laugh at? She continued jogging for a few lengths into the Bowl and then stopped, to give the others more clearance. A bell. What in the sharding world did people do with bells. Maybe she should have just wandered into Handler Quarters until she'd found a bell to borrow.
Have you ever heard any bells?
Think I saw small fluffy feline with a bell on its collar but... ...they probably wouldn't appreciate me hunting down their pet, yeah. She'd never really explored Dalibor. She'd lived on the docks, and the bells down there were large--if she'd even be allowed to leave the Weyr again. She had to think. Bells were...used to make sound...to alert or...music? She could find one with the Harpers, if she knew where they were. Maybe at the stables...she'd heard they had a stables here somewhere...Oreanda felt her confidence waning. She didn't even know if she was allowed to ask for help--if she let go of her pride long enough to actually seek someone out. Could she use her firelizard? She stood there for several long minutes, rocking back and forth on her feet, thinking. Consuming herself in a mixture of annoyance and shame that she might not be able to do this. When she'd always promised herself she could do anything.
You can, the wher stated. There was a burning love there, with his words, and encouragement, but no coddling. He was not taking her hand and patting her like a child, he was simply affirming the belief that she had carried with her throughout her life. The very premise of which made her a nightmare for Ijo, and an annoyance for most everyone else. She was capable, and she knew it. He would be capable as well, when he was older, even if he felt somewhat capable now--feasting on her knowledge in the bonding of their souls. I can, she agreed, and set off across the Bowl, clicking her tongue. It was enormous. It could hold all 300 of Dalibor's dragons, the feeding grounds, the Candidate and Weyrling Barracks, and still have space for the lake, the river, and untold amounts of visitors. Crossing it in its entirety would probably take longer than fishing had, but...she didn't have to cross it.
She reasoned that the stables would be near the feeding grounds, and those lay down into the Bowl from the Wherhandler tunnel, straddling the river. She ran into nothingness until the fence showed up in her own sort of vision--echoed back from the clicking of her tongue. She was a dolphin, or dolphin-like, and had been for as long as she could remember. She could see. Maybe not like the others, but she could. She kept one hand on the rough boulder fence, her fingertips grazing the rough stone as she trotted next to it down, down south as if she were going to head to the sea. She'd heard runnerbeasts before, people liked to ride them and they wouldn't be kept with the cattle where dragons were landing and mauling surely. The stone building came into her view shortly after the fence ended, it was large, but low--it didn't need to house dragons after all.
She wandered it, clicking, hearing the curious snorts and feeling the soft noses of the relatively calm runnerbeasts. They lived amongst death every day, hearing the herdbeasts being bled dry outside. They had to be calm stock for sure. "Now where do you keep your bells," she cooed to them. If she had expected a reply, she did not get one. If there was a Handler on duty, she did not notice them, and nor did they announce themselves. They had probably already been informed. The stables smelled of dry grass and the runners smelled like musty sunlight on the forest paths that ran between the Weyr and the sea. It was an earthy smell, but foreign, she preferred salt and fish. There were other notes, some less savoury than others, and one in particular she followed with her sharp nose.
Tanned, cured, well-cared for and crafted. It was a smell she had always loved, as little as she'd had the opportunity to be around it. Leather constricted and killed when wet. Thongs of leather were moistened then left in the sun to tighten on fishing spears and poles at Cove; leather was to be avoided in the ocean, and the dolphins--Akke at least--had always been perplexed by humans wearing the hides of other animals. Why weren't human hides good at being warm? It smelled comforting, and aged, and almost seductive. As if she could recall the distant memory of seeking her mother's breast for milk and the scent of skin that brought her life. The tackroom was a warm, dry bath of leather scents, and her fingers went to work sorting through the trappings and bardings. It took her some time to find a bridle that had been outfitted with bells on its reins, probably for some form of pageantry, or ceremony. It was nestled in a chest of long-forgotten items, the leather cracked and neglected. They would not miss one bell.
She scurried triumphantly from the stables with her prize in her fist, scouring her mental map for a place to hide it that would be fitting, and a way to tell Osk without actually telling him everything. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, it would just take her time to jog there. Crossing the bridge opposite the stables she set out at a near-frolic towards the distant Weyrling Barracks. They were empty, she knew that, the last hatching had been a turn ago this season and the Weyrlings chose their own private weyrs when they were nine months old. All the dragon's she'd spoken to, and she'd spoken to a lot! Had confirmed this. Still, it didn't hurt to extend her Hearing out into the distance to ensure everything was quiet. Empty. She was certain she could have asked Pipperith for permission to hide her bell in the common area there, but now it didn't matter. They were dormant until Keth's hardening clutch hatched.
Several minutes passed as she traveled, it really was such a large expanse. She followed the opposite side of the feeding pen's stone wall on her way back north, listening to the curious lowing of the cattle within as she darted past--a waif of a girl, eyes closed, smile on her face. There was butchering being done somewhere, probably Handlers, maybe a dragon looking for a late night snack. She could smell, the metal in the air, taste it on her tongue, and hear the distant noise of bones being broken. It did not deter her from her mission. This was her life now. Osk was distracting himself in her mind. He was no cheater, he was arrogant and prideful and he was going to accomplish this without cheating of any kind--he even made sure to tell her multiple times, not to spoil anything with their near-constant connection. His attempts to withdraw himself made her laugh. They'd been close from the moment he'd tasted her blood, he couldn't take it back now.
The Barracks were nearly eerie in their silence, considering how noisy they were when filled with hatchlings. Weyrlings were adorable creatures, filled with promise and wonder, Oreanda had often sat down near the building just to listen to them bonding with their new Riders, enjoying their new lives. She knew what it was like now, that she had Osk, and she knew more than ever that she would never have minded someone listening in on her. She'd never met a Hears all Whers, as they called them, but if she did, she'd tell them they could always listen to Osk. He'd probably agree, if only because he was so worth listening to. She practically skipped through the common room, the enormous cavern that housed growing Kings and whole classes of Weyrlings within its walls. When she passed into the corridor of the rooms, it was more like she had wandered from one cavern into a longer cavern, her clicks echoing back at her like an enormous well had opened up and she could fall right into it. Every room was big beyond imagination, some of them far too large to even capture half an image, her clicks lost in the great distance from her tiny frame to the highest walls. It was there at the very back that she planted her item.
It was done.
She beat a hasty retreat back to the Wherhandler Quarters, again--a long trek across nearly the entire Bowl on a diagonal. When she finally returned to Osk's side, she was exhausted, but pleased with her performance. Are you ready? He gave the affirmative, uncoiling from where he'd been sitting and stretching with a chesty roar, his blue tongue splaying out of his fanged maw. She concentrated, gathered her memories, and began sending. The echo image of the corridor, distant corners of spaces fading into darkness where sound dissipated instead of bounced back. The slabs of stone laid in every area, the wide openings like mouths devouring the littlest creatures. Osk chuffed, dug in his claws, and took off down the tunnel. He was growing to be a heavy beast, but he was still young and small.
He extended himself up the cavern, hurtling past Der on his left side and out into the Bowl where he stopped, his bright green eyes illuminating the stone at his feet as he peered this way and that, sniffing. He could still smell her. If he wanted to, he could follow the entire path she had taken, but he was no cheater. He shook his head to clear her scent from his nostrils and forced himself to forget it. Spice and caverns, but it had to be in the Bowl. He zeroed in on the Candidates Barracks to the North and flattened out into a run. He wasn't even winded when he reached it, slipping in to the glowing commons, his thick milky eye membranes sliding over his eyes to clean them as he sniffed around the chairs and couches, and even any unsuspecting Candidates. There was nothing spicy here.
He rumbled at any present playfully, then turned and left, slipping back outside and heading even more North to the top-most bridge of the Weyr, caught between the thunderous roar of the waterfall and the distant placid lake. The Weyrling Barracks loomed ahead, his jaws dropped open in a playfully human grin and he was off again, slipping briefly on the thin film of ice which the waterfall mist had deposited there. It took time for a little body to make it so far, but he was not nearly as slow as Oreanda had been. She jogged, uncertain, he ran and stretched and sought to make up time. He still wasn't winded when he blitzed his way into the Barracks, swallowed up by the spicy scent of dragons. He began his search. He mulled over the oddly fuzzy image she had sent him, and ducked his head into each of the two corridors. Only one of them really matched what she had seen, so he chose that one.
He could see everything. Nothing escaped his notice, and there was nothing to see. It was a barren wasteland of stone. No glowbaskets, no belongings, just the distant memory of those who had lived here before, and the promise that it would be filled again soon enough. The bell was easy to find, he just had to walk long enough to reach the final chamber at the end, the one that had housed ages of Kings, and would continue to do so. Osk, vibrating under the pride of their accomplishment, dipped his head to delicately pick up the little bell, and made his way for home. He was like a powerful machine making his way back across the Bowl, skirting the lake to head for the middle bridge that lay just above the feeding pens. He wasn't going to slow down for ice on his way back. He left everything behind him, shed his skin, and tried to fly, even his delicate developing wings were used to cup the air and maintain his balance in his head-long flight home.
He whistled to Der in passing, but did not slow down, his bright eyes picking out any movement ahead of him and adjusting to avoid any slower parties, be they Weyrfolk, or competition. He didn't come to a halt until he was nearly face-to-legs with Isk, dropping the bell triumphantly in front of the Weyrlingmaster. Had they been first? He didn't know, he didn't care. They'd tried to get the best of her, but they hadn't, she'd risen to the challenge and he was more than proud. I told mother you be best choice, she didn't belive me but will soon, I know this yes.. The wher, now winded, joined his Handler in her exhausted sprawl near the hot springs, his tail flipping back and forth with a quiet hiss of hide on stone.
*click for plot page*
Irrin strode along listening to the crunch of her boots against the winter hard ground. A storm or two would turn the footsteps to an unpleasant squelching sound but for now it was good. The greater part of Irrin’s attention by necessity went to Irrisk. The outgoing and adventurous wheret had to be watched carefully with eye and mind Irrin had learned; otherwise she’d be off like a shot and into some kind of mischief.
Irrisk wriggled up between two of her siblings and closer to the bucket Ijo was carrying, she was sure she could get her jaws around a delicious fish is she just… There was a distressingly familiar sensation in her mind, and the cyan look back over her shoulder to see Irrin looking at her with an Irrisk-I-see-you-and-I’m-not-impressed expression. Awwww Just one The little wher flattened her spikes down as far as they’d go and let her stunted looking wings flop in an attempt to look cute.
Not faaair. Never let Irrisk do anything. The wher complained, but dropped back to walk beside her handler for a while. The little wher’s gait on her oversized feet was a jaunty trot, and her attention flitted back and forth.
Life is not fair. Irrin shared the observation so many parents and teachers throughout history had bestowed on their charges. We’re going fishing, you can have a fish later, if I can catch one. Those fish aren’t yours. Irrin sensed grudging acceptance of her statement, though Irrisk had already given up on stealing fish for the moment. Everything was just so interesting to her. Irrin dropped her hand in front of her wheret’s muzzle right as an unusual whersport caught the cyan’s eye. Irrisk bounded forward for one step, then found her handler’s hand covering her face. Stay with the rest of us Irrisk, or I’ll put you on a harness like a canine pup. Both of them knew it was an idle threat, Irrisk was probably already strong enough to drag Irrin anywhere she liked by said harness if she tried.
Irrin smiled slightly as Oreanda shared her thoughts on the wild iron in this area. She recalled when the wherhandlers had spoken about negotiating with the local wild whers, and how two of the kings had come to stay in the Weyr in the terrible snows of the following winter. She hadn’t known Slosk had stayed in somebody’s weyr though. The bronze Flask had occupied a storage room in the lower caverns until the floods came. She was aware though, that those two kings were unusual for wilds, and even they, non-aggressive as they were, would not take kindly to gambolling wherets around them.
The various equipment was given a curious look over by Irrin, she’d seen people fishing but never really tried it for herself, apart from the old game of trying to grab fish out of the water when they were resting, a game that usually ended up with somebody falling in the lake. She had no real idea how to pick out a good lure, and she wasn’t certain that any fish would really take a hook with threads and feathers on it for food. In the end she chose one with three feathers hanging from the top of the hook as being as good as any other. No doubt if she was an expert she’d know what kind of fish it would best lure, but if she could manage to capture even one fish she’d be happy.
Irrisk you stay back, and don’t go trying to swim out of your depth. This isn’t the lake, the sea can be dangerous. I’m watching you, and I’ll know if you do. Irrin knew the only way to get her wher to display even the slightest caution was to be firm with her. Irrin kept half her mind with her wher as she tried to follow the instructions. The pole and line felt awkward in her hands, she seemed to be very clumsy. The first try her line didn’t go out far enough, and the second she somehow got it around her own arm. It was no comfort that other people were doing worse than her either.
Irrisk squeaked in alarm and Irrin’s pole clattered down. ”Oreanda, you’ve caught Osk!” She called out although Oreanda undoubtedly already knew. Irrisk wriggled around her brother and nudged at him in concern until Irrin cleared the cyan forcefully out of the way. “Sorry Osk, this is going to hurt a bit. I’ll keep it neat if you don’t bite me.” Irrin worked carefully to avoid the barb ripping more of the bronze’s hide while Osk tossed his head. Irrin mssed the red flare of his eyes because she was concentrating on what she was doing. ”There. Done. You’ll probably want to get some salve when we get back. Sionask’s handler should have something, he works on wherhealing with herbs and what not. Irrisk bounced back over to nuzzle at her more serious brother and bound away again to play in the surf.
The work of fishing this way, once she had the hang of casting was well suited to Irrin’s patient nature, it was kind of relaxing, or it might have been if she could let her mind drift instead of watching Irrisk with half her attention. The fish she pulled out in the end was pretty small, but enough for a meal.
The work of preparing fish was something Irrin had done before, a familiar task, though not one she could do automatically like some of the kitchen work she’d dealt with over the turns. The head as flicked off to Irrisk, who made a selection of slightly vile noises while she gnawed on it a bit, then crunched it up. A circling wherry snatched the fish guts before they even hit the water. Irrin frowned with concentration as she ran her knife along the back of the fish, first one side then the other. She always liked it when she could pull out the spine and attached bones cleanly.
“If anyone wants to cook their fish later, I know a recipe for a good dipping sauce.” Irrin volunteered the information. She didn’t fancy eating a raw cold fish, not when a baked fish served with a spicy sauce would taste so much better. She cut bits off the fillets to feed to Irrisk while she waited for everyone else to finish up.
That what Isk say.
Irrin shrugged. It would be easier if Ijo wanted her to find something more common but she was sure there were some candles in one of the storage rooms. She just had to remember which one. The girl trotted purposefully out into the bowl, because the rules said she had to go that way, and dived back inside to as soon as she could to take the shortest route to the storage area she wanted. There were some scented candles there she recalled, overpoweringly floral with summer flower oils. They should be easy for Irrisk to find, if Irrin could find them. The storage caverns tended to smell a bit musty when they weren’t used for food storage so Irrin breathed deeply through her nose, seeking the scent she recalled.
When she found candles in the third place she looked the scented ones were easily located, though the scent was still powerful enough to be unpleasant to her. Maybe in a turn or two they’d be mellow and pleasant. Now to find somewhere to leave it before she changed her mind and took a plain one.
Out in the bowl Irrin checked that Irrisk was distracted, which was practically Irrisk’s ground state, and then considered where to hide a candle. Anywhere would do but it had better be somewhere distinctive so she could give Irrisk some landmarks. Ah she thought she recalled… Irrin loped along the rock wall keeping an eye out low, looking for a place that she’d poked stones and sticks into when she’d been a child. Yes, there it was still and it was big enough. The hole was more of a deep indentation in the rock that formed the greater part of the weyr. Near to the ground, it was big enough to hold a child’s treasures, or a wher’s puzzle.
Feeling pleased with herself Irrin trotted back, pausing every so often to look back the way she’d come so she could show it to Irrisk.
Irrisk was going to be the fastest at this! Irrisk was already so great exploring! The cyan wheret wriggled with impatience as she waited for Irrin’s return. At last! Irrisk took off like a sprinter, but had to slow down as soon as she was outside and puzzle over Irrin’s guidance images Irrin’s images were as she recalled them, and they were backwards in sequence since she’d been walking away. Irrisk found the first landmark, and the second easily enough but when she cast about for the third and could immediately see it Irrisk wailed and plopped down on the ground.
This hard! Why Irrisk can’t do? Irrisk expressed her despair to her handler.
Irrisk isn’t trying hard enough. Irrin’s tone was calm and even, a counterpoint to Irrisk’s exasperated whine. You can’t give up the second you fail. You get up and try again.
Do not want. Tired of this game now. Stupid Isk, stupid Irrisk.Irrisk rolled her head back toward the wher quarters to see if anyone would come out and help her.
Oh, so you want to come back and tell Isk you couldn’t find it? I’ll tell him you wouldn’t try and he’ll know how silly you are. Irrin tried a little shame to motivate Irrisk.
NO! Not tell Isk, please, please. Irrisk try hard now. The cyan all but leapt up and cast about. Now Irrin had always gone in the most direct way back from where she’d been. So if Irrisk went this way still… Yes! The wheret scampered up to her next reference point. Now what? Determinedly she reran the sequence in her mind. There!
When she plucked the candle from the nook in the wall Irrisk wrinkled her nose. Ew, she really had to carry this the whole way back? She did her best to keep her lips and tongue away from it as she sprinted back toward the wher quarters. Maybe she wouldn’t be the worst at this after all.
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Despite Ijo’s best efforts to take the wherlings’ minds off of the horror of the creeping storm, Yorisk had proved gamely incapable of being swayed. In the few free moments afforded them, the persistent Red would find excuses to drag her Yoris in pursuit of the gelatinous monster, exploring the labyrinthine passages of the Lower Caverns in hopes that they might find where the Beasthall had stored it. Yoris had little stomach for the idea of finding the blob, but until she proved capable of finding it it almost seemed prudent to let her go on searching. It at least kept her out of further trouble, trouble which she might have been able to accomplish as she grew larger and no less furious. And it was not as though their chances of finding it were especially great, given their lowly position in the Weyr’s hierarchy of knowledge and that they never had more than half a candlemark of unattended time in which to search.
By the time of that day’s lesson Yorisk was no closer to having found the captive creeping storm than on the day it had first been secreted away, and Yoris was beginning to suspect it had been moved to the Beasthall after all. He would have tried harder to convince Yorisk of this, but her attention was too zealously focused on the antics of her siblings to be worried about that now. Osk’s posturing was all too evident, and Yorisk was torn between wishing to push him over so that she might show away instead, and not caring a fig for what Isk thought, because she hadn’t forgiven Isk any more than she had forgiven the storm. With considerable confidence she whispered to Yoris, Someday I punish stupid Isk.
He rolled his eyes. She smirked with all her teeth.
Stop that. You know that there are consequences to your actions. They might cull you yet. Or hold us back to join a new wherling class. The toothy smirk disappeared.
Not do! Yorisk too useful, too good for Weyr. Not make learn with no-use babies.
They will too, and me with you if you don’t shut up.
Yoris realized that they had all come to a halt near the riverbank and Ijo had been instructing them in the use of fishing lures. He could not help but feel that Yorisk might be on to something. What sort of sharding dimglow went fishing in the middle of winter? He shuddered and pulled his many layers tighter over his willow-thin frame. It was difficult to hide his disdain with the emotion traveling so easily through Yorisk, or perhaps originating from her in the first place. While he only huddled down and drew his eyebrows into a glower, she lashed her tail like an impatient feline, her eyes simmering their usual red. Yoris could only hope that it was mistaken for hunger or had simply come to be expected of her. Strangely enough, despite a few poor first attempts, it did not take him long to get the motion of casting out his line. He could not get the lure out especially far, but there was a nice rhythm to the fling and twitch and reel and fling. He at least seemed to be faring better than some of the others, especially Oreanda, who had managed to catch only herself. When a fish struck his lure he let out an excited shout and set the hook neatly into its mouth.
“Look, I’ve got one! Nothing to it really…”
Right as he was slowly working the fish back to shore, Osk was the next “fish” to be caught. Yoris watched the scuffle with raised eyebrows and forgot entirely about the fish on the end of his pole, until he went to pull it in and found the line slack. Yorisk, who had been curled patiently around his feet, made a jeering lunge at the Bronze.
Look what Osk do, make lose tasty-fish, useless! she snapped, and Yoris bared his own teeth at the half-blind pair, Yorisk’s anger setting into him as easily as a hook. A half-second later he came to his senses and looked away, coughing to hide the expression and casting out again. It was unsettling how easily tendrils of the Red curled into him like that. Yorisk flicked her tongue dismissively at the Bronze once more before curling back around her Handler’s feet. It didn’t take long to hook another fish, although this one seemed smaller and less exciting than the first.
Unfortunately for Yoris, this would be the last task of the day that came naturally to him. He made a jagged mess of gutting the fish, despite or perhaps because of Yorisk’s enthusiastic help, and came very near to cutting her tongue in the process. While he did end up with what looked like two edible, if not elegant fillets, it was clear that there was nearly as much flesh left on the fish. Yorisk obligingly destroyed the evidence and neatly picked the space between her teeth with a bone while the others, better at taking their time, finished.
By this point Yoris was incredibly exhausted. That they were now, after standing in the cold for some candlemarks, expected to go haring all over the Weyr to steal knick-knacks and lead their whers to them with nothing but images was absurd.
You were right. They really are stupid, he thought to his Red, and she snickered with delight.
Maybe someday Mine punish Isk-His! Also Isk say is find mirror.
He was not so certain about the punishment bit, but hearing what they were to go looking for was enough to get him to groan. A mirror? What were they, lordly Holders? A true mirror was not an easy item to make, nor cheap. It was doubtful that a single one of them had one, much less one that they wouldn’t mind giving up for a few moments.
I don’t suppose you’ve been too loud and Isk overheard you and we’re being punished? he snapped at Yorisk as he began the long march towards the Wherhandlers’ quarters. Yorisk writhed guiltily at the scolding.
Yorisk never! Yorisk good at whisper and secrets. Not Yorisk fault Isk stupid, look, make girl can’t see with eyes find thing with eyes! She tore at the grass with her claws, all anxiety at having been thought incompetent by Hers. Yoris rubbed at his temples. Perhaps they could earn points for creativity? There was not a Thread’s chance in the ocean that he was going to sneak about and steal a mirror from some foppish lordling. Yorisk was reminding him every few moments to hurry up and send her to track down the item; she wanted to be the best! Better than these incompetent babies!
While the others made mad dashes about the Bowl, Yoris took a slower approach, meandering towards the Wherling Barracks as he thought. Surely the Wherlingmaster could not fault him for ingenuity? He went straight towards his own room, with its neatly laid out supplies—rearranged, yet again, despite Yorisk’s constant upheaval—and pulled out a small wooden bowl and some of the silver leaf that he used to embellish his manuscripts. He could not repress a shudder as he pressed the delicate gilding down into the bottom of the bowl. It was not inexpensive stuff, although neither were his paints, oils or parchments, and truthfully he would be able to scrape it off again with only a little work. Silvered bowl in hand, he abandoned the warmth of the Barracks once more to march back towards the Lake. Stooping down to the water, he scooped up a small amount into the bowl, just enough to smooth the images reflected back from the silver. He took a short look at himself in its reflection—blurry, but recognizable even beyond the ripples. He frowned briefly at his own reflection before tucking the bowl behind a small mound of river pebbles on the shore. Given the direction that she would be coming from, it would be invisible to Yorisk until she had come at it from a different angle.
As he walked back to where the wherets were waiting he began sending images to Yorisk. The bowl with silver in its concavity. The lake lapping at the shore. A small mound of stones. He had barely reached them when Yorisk took off like a flash, heedless in her haste, nearly bowling over several other wherlings. She bulled towards the Lake with a triumphant screech—she would find it the fastest, she would! Except that she didn’t. Too excited at the prospect of being the first, she ran right by the pile of stones several times, while Yoris sent her increasingly annoyed images. The LAKE. The BOWL you clod the BOWL. By the ROCKS, because it wasn’t as if there were rocks all over the shore arranged in little piles (there were). But it was difficult for them to see each other’s images clearly, much like looking into the facsimile of a mirror, and they only whipped each other’s irritation into a frothier sort of anger. When Yorisk finally found the bowl, she was so annoyed that she left toothmarks into its rim when she went to pick it up, and spilled some of the water. By the time she had reached Isk with it, many of the others had already returned, and most of their items could be immediately recognized. The silver bowl with its teaspoon of water would have to be squinted at to be recognizable as a mirror.
There, she hissed, spitting the bowl at Isk’s feet, there is stupid mirror for Isk to look at big head inside!
Carrolly didn't know what to think. She hadn't seen what happened, but the rumors and the things she heard, she didn't know if it was a good idea to think to much on it. Instead she had kept close to Carrosk and keep her within rang of her voice is she had to yell to get her attention. She felt like the weyr was falling apart in a way, but she let it go for a moment. Her thinking went back to her wher. The creature had done things for her and with her sense she hatched. Giving her confidence is a way that she had never thought she had. Sometimes when she was down she thought of how brave her wher was and started to try and be more like her. It didn't work all the time of course, sometimes like when she was in a crowd she was left to fend for her own mind, kinda, Carrosk would jump in and make her think of other things, snapping at her to get her to quite her antics.
Following the group of wherling's to the water, she had found that her bond didn't like the water, oh no, but she did find that like times like this, that the water was good for something. Today she watched as the master did his fishing show, showing them how to properly fish. She chose a pole and started to fish. Her bond took a spot next to her, laying down on the shore in the sand. Her claws digging at the sand trying to dig up anything she could. At one point, she found a crap and snapping it apart, the poor thing didn't stand a chance and instead would become her lunch. Her strong jaws breaking the shell and eating what was inside instead. Carrolly found that carrosk was having fun snapping at anything she found on the shore.
"What do you think now that you see why i love the water so much. There is more then just swimming in it." She chuckled. Carrosk looked at her, giving her something like a evil eye. She huffed and looked around, looking at the larger wher's that were around the weyr. She had heard the Wherling master say something about a wild wher and got to her feet. Her lips pulled back in thoughts of a wild creature getting close to what was hers. She looked around the area, looking at the large brown that was with them. Her head whipped back and forth.
"I don't think it will come out and get us, we are to close to the wherling master for it to take a chance." Carrolly said looking at her wher. She felt something on her line and tugged, pulling as hard as she could until it was on the shore with her. Carrosk snapped at it a few times before snapping the fish up into her teeth. "Now wait, let me get the hook first." She quickly grabbed where the hook was and pulled it out of its mouth. "There"
Carrosk had the fist like a trophy, showing it off as she followed suit over where they were gutting the fish. Carrolly quickly took a knife and took to cutting into the fish, she pulled the inards out and threw them to the birds that were waiting for it. making sure to pull the meat off the bones and quickly throwing them into the water as well. She wasn't sure if she wanted to got into finding things, Carrosk looked around like she wouldn't go far, her body language clear she was not happy with the thought of a wild wher getting to close to what was hers after all, it would die before it touched her bond. her snarl was almost quiet as she looked towards the trees and then back to her bond.
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Der's dour expression likely wasn't much encouragement to the gathered wherlings as they tried to progress through Ijo and Isk's lessons for the night. It wasn't because of them, or at least, mostly wasn't. Some was, because apparently some of them were either wherrybrained or spoiled til salt wouldn't save them, and he wasn't going to bother deciding which were which.
But the rest - well, the rest was that they were all sloshing around in water and he was not at all happy that he'd agreed to help Czervon with this, no he wasn't. In retrospect, that had been an awful decision and the bluehandler would hear about it after it was all over.
I hear now, Desk inserted dryly. Der fine. Walk off.
Would if I could. Thankfully, he survived without provoking any comment, which meant they could go back to the Weyr proper to keep an eye on the wherlings and wherets as they came and went. I'm still having words with Czer later.
Isk wants a spoon, Liask informed his handler, as their assigned scavenger-item was dutifully provided.
Liamaedra canted an eyebrow upwards, grinning a bit as she crouched in front of her wher, scratching his eyeridges and ignoring his rather fishy breath. "Kind of open-ended, isn't it? Anything more to go on?"
Big wood spoon like Liask's-brother have, he elaborated.
"Gotcha, gotcha. Alright, I'm off! I'll tell you when it's hidden." The petite young woman darted off, winding her way through the lower caverns to enter the kitchens, finding a big baker's spoon that wasn't in use. She was sure Kyrovin would have had words with her if she'd disrupted someone's baking for the sake of her lesson. On the other hand, if it had been his, she totally would have just to try to get a rise out of him.
Now to hide it. Liamaedra made tracks for the stables, not actually going inside the fences or building itself - she had no desire for Liask to potentially get kicked in the head by an antsy runnerbeast - but ducking around to the back of the building to tuck the wooden spoon snug against the stone foundation before rejoining her wher. Unfortunately, it didn't make for the crispest of mental pictures, a stone wall and dirt. Liask prodded her impatiently.
Picture: inadequate. Details are required.
She sighed. Wasn't she supposed to be teaching him, not the other way around? But she tried to widen up the sight-memory.
Good. Liask's perform acceptably this time. Will proceed. The iron took off like a juggernaut, heading for the buildings that housed Dalibor's livestock. A brief nose around the kennels drew him to the conclusion that the angles and composition of the picture he'd been shown were not identical. Then he went to the stables. That was more rewarding; after a few quick clawswipes to unwedge the spoon, he picked it up carefully in his jaws to bring it back.
Hopefully the bakers and kitchenworkers didn't mind a few whertooth-prints on the handle after this.
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Cbox Mods: Ruin, Rii, Ivy