Painting A'ran's weyr

December 3rd 2004
Logged by Donis

Central Bowl
It is a winter noon. The chill almost seems balmy after the cold of the previous night, and the winter birds are busy with song in the bright and cheery sunlight.
Green Kelitath, brown Piccath, brown Sevareth, brown Cvinth, green Miravith, green Veriameth, green Chrideth, green Zoryanth, green Celvynath, gold Isamath, and blue Niwath are here.
Silas is here.

Taiith drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
A'ran vaults off Taiith's neck with no help whatsoever on the blue's part.

Donis tromps through the snow, dragging firestone bags with bad grace.

A'ran is trudging along slowly, weighed down by two large buckets. "Shards, this is heavy!" the bluerider mutters under his breath. But there appears to be hope. "Donis," he asks politely, "could you put those bags down for a second and help me out?" He stops to rest a few feet from Donis, waiting expectantly.

Silas isn't happy about being sent out to look for Dellena, /again/. That girl just needs to be taught a thing or two about responsibilities and doing chores. But more to the point, Silas is unhappy about being sent /outside/ to look. "Too cold…" he mumbles under his breath, which shows as a mist in front of his face. Spotting Donis, he comes over to the fellow candidate, "Donis.. Have you seen Dellena. She's late for chores /again/."

Donis drags the firestone bags up against the wall, out of the worst of the wet, and wanders back towards A'ran. "Morning. What can I do for you?" He half-turns towards Silas and shakes his head: "Not seen her."

A'ran unceremoniously thrusts one bucket toward Donis. "It's probably about the same weight as you were carrying, and it's much more fun." Oh. Look. Another. The other bucket is held out to Silas. "So what do you two say? I'll give you food if you'll help me."

Silas snorts, breating in too cold air, causing a chill to run down his spine. At A'ran's request, he narrows his eyes, trying to determine the content of the bucket being held out to him, "help with what?" he asks, taking the bucket, looking from rider to Donis and back again. Though the offer of food does sound good, there's plenty of that to be had in the lower caverns, "how 'bout a nice warm fire instead?"

"Food?" Donis is in agreement with Silas here. "You'll have to do better than that, A'ran, really. Is this official help we'd be giving you, or something we could get in trouble for." He makes no move to take the bucket and gives the bluerider a skeptical look instead.

A'ran shrugs. "My weyr is warmer than here." That alone should be bribery enough. "And while it's not exactly -official-, I can't see you getting into trouble for it. It's only a little painting. That doesn't involve dragon talons." His arms are getting very tired at this point. He bends his knees and lets bthe buckets drop into the snow. "You'd rather haul firestone than paint?"

"I'm no good at painting," Silas notes, shaking his head and glancing up toward the weyrbowl's sides. Then again, he'd never actually been up there either. Tempting offer. "But I can mend your clothes or knit you a scarf. Maybe even carve a figure of you out of a tuber." Perhaps this candidate needs to learn something from Dellena and stop /offering/ to do chores..

Donis winces at Silas's offer, and picks up one of A'ran's buckets. "Painting it is then - you only had to ask, A'ran, really," he shakes his head at the bluerider. "Not that I'm much good at artistic things, either. But if you want a wall painted, that's no problem."

"But I don't need a scarf!" A'ran pleads. "I want to move back into my weyr. A carved tuber would be neat, but…" He smiles at Donis. "Great! Don't worry. You can prime one wall while I paint another." He picks up the other bucket, using both hands this time, and begins lugging it towards Taiith. "You can do Donis's job then, Silas."

Silas is perhaps a little too naive for his own good. Or maybe he's just been well-training to do his chores? Noting Donis' wince, he straightens, trying to stand a little taller. His face falls with A'ran's suggestion, though and he glances toward the sacks of firestone. He'd probably just topple under the weight of those, "well.. You know. If you need a third pair of hands, I guess I could help out?"

"Oh, I'm glad it's just painting walls… Oh, come on, Silas," Donis replies and encourages, carrying the paint over towards Taiith. He can lift the bucket in one hand, nyah. He's strong.

A'ran grins and looks back at Silas. "I thought you might feel that way. Come on, then." Oh, Donis may be all strong from that guard training, but A'ran's still cuter. He loads the paint onto Taiith, balancing it carefully before pulling himself up.

"Right…" Silas notes and walks up to the Taiith, giving Donis a half grin, "'least it's better than running around the weyr looking for Dellena. Or logging firestone.."

Taiith hunches down, allowing A'ran to hoist himself up and onto his serpentine neck.

Donis passes the paint up to A'ran, and then scrambles up the blue's side without any trouble.
Taiith hunches down, allowing you to hoist yourself up onto the blue's neck. Settle in quickly. Who knows what perils you may meet on this voyage?

Taiith [Central Bowl]
Cool, he is, like moonlight on silver, with pale and fickle light gleaming along the blades of his spine and up the swift-drawn scimitars of his flashing wings. Shadows brand his belly and tail, burnt smoke and gunpowder that likewise boot his legs to black and darken his feet and claws. In contrast, the rolling, swooping, slooping Caribbean blues of his hide are seabright and brilliant; cerulean blazes across his muzzle, chest, and smooth sleek haunches where a dappling of cannon shot in sterling and brighter galleon's gold score his wave-tumbled hues. A swashbuckler, a rogue, a pirate king: nothing daunts the cheerful swagger of his step and flight, nor the wicked confidence awhirl in this scallywag's faceted gaze.
Astride Taiith is A'ran.

Taiith hunches down, allowing Silas to hoist himself up and onto his serpentine neck.

You take off.
Above the Bowl

The lake beckons, chalky but inviting nonetheless.
Above the Lake

Taiith's ledge is small. If yer navigation is a little awry, you'll be goin' into the brine.
Taiith's Port of Pleasure
This ledge is at the base of the wall, little more than a fathom from the chalky water lapping beneath. The glacial lake often reflects the sky, which can be viewed fom almost anywhere on the rocky outcropping. The only shelter from the elements can be found in a single corner, where the cliffside juts out to guard the darkened entrance to the interior. Everything seems to be in ship-shape, but one question lingers. Why is the rum gone?
It is a winter afternoon. The sun has begun its descent all too quickly, and although the afternoon sun is warm on the melting snow, the air is cold and will certainly reverse any work which the sun has done this short day.
Fluttering just above the water is a green firelizard.

"Here we are," A'ran states as he prepares to dismount. "Be careful not to spill the paint when you get down. I don't want a colored ledge."

A'ran vaults off Taiith's neck with no help whatsoever on the blue's part.

You vault off of Taiith with no help whatsoever. It's not /that/ far to the ground.

Silas vaults off Taiith's neck with no help whatsoever on the blue's part.

A'ran leaves all this insanity and goes in to the weyr.
Silas leaves all this insanity and goes in to the weyr.

You leave all this insanity and go into the weyr.
Just Plain Weyrd
Did a hurricane just pass through? It's more likely that the inhabitant of this weyr has a problem with organization. Food, hides, and articles of clothing are strewn about in seemingly random fashion. Under all this one can spot a few pieces of furniture, including a small hexagonal table and a cot with a chest at its foot. The dragon couch takes up the rest of the space. Despite the chaotic arrangement, the most shocking thing about the weyr's interior is the walls and ceiling, which comprise one huge mural. Other pieces of artwork are scattered among the more necessary things for existence.
On the ledge, you see a blue dragon.
Camoflauged against the paintings is a brown firelizard.
You see Bulletin Board and Doodle here.
A'ran and Silas are here.

Donis dismounts carefully, and lifts down one of the buckets. "So, which of these is the undercoat and which is the real colour?" he asks, eyeing the paint. "And where are the brushes?"

Silas follows after A'ran into the weyr, glancing backward with an almost disappointed look in his face. He'd expected someplace higher up, with a better view. A glance at Donis and he chimes in, "and what do you want us to paint? Nothing artistic, I hope?"

A'ran's usually cluttered weyr is completely bare except for a few trays of food in the corner and a plethora of painting supplies scattered in the middle of the floor. "Just pick one up and start painting that wall white." He points to the one furthest from the entrance. "I'll be doing the actual mural here." He pats a side wall that is already primed. "Help yourself to the meatrolls and klah.

"Oh good. You're doing the arty stuff." Donis sounds very relieved, and rolls up his sleeves before taking a very wide brush. "So, just a base coat then… easy. What does Taiith think of this?"

[OOC:] A'ran says "I hereby give you permission to destroy any of A'ran's possessions or vandalize any part of his physical person. For future reference."

[OOC:] Silas starts plotting, then.

Once inside, Silas pulls off his mittens, stuffing them into the pockets of his coat, which is then pulled off and desposited randomly on the floor. "I think it'd be wiser to use wall-hangings," he suggests, jutting his chin at the rocky walls, "keeps the heat in and still looks pretty." Well, he may not be much of an artist, but he's not the son of weavers for nothing.

A'ran nods. "I figured you'd like it better than normal chores." He dips a small brush into one bucket, which contains a pale green, and begins his task. "It smells awful, candidate, but it'll be glorious when it's done," he replies after a moment. He stops to explain. "Taiith's words, not mine. He actuall;y helped me with the design. And I'm a harper, not a weaver. I don't weave."

"I don't harp or weave," Donis comments rather vaguely, dipping his brush in the paint and applying it to the back wall. "Meatrolls and klah, hmm? Maybe when I've done half of this. Got a ladder anywhere, or do we just stand on Taiith?"

Taiith comes in from the ledge.

"No.. You guard," Silas replies to Donis, but adds a quick grin as he picks up a brush, dipping it in the bucket, then kneels by the wall, "I'll start at the bottom, if you don't mind, Donis? You're taller than me."

Taiith hurries in at this statement, having hovered just outside the entrance most of the time. "It's actually best to start on top," A'ran explains. "That way you pain tover the stuff that dribbles down from the top." He mixes the green with a dark blue to get an ivy tone. Taiith lowers his head. Nobody can say he didn't help with the mural. "I wonder what he's excited about," A'ran wonders alloud.

[OOC:] Donis says "And how are we supposed to reach the top, pray tell? :)"

[OOC:] A'ran says "Dragon step ldder. Or real ladder. Whichever you prefer."
[OOC:] A'ran says "Or you could just try to jump. lol"

[OOC:] Donis will use Taiith, if that's alright.

[OOC:] A'ran says "But of course."

[OOC:] Silas will just use the real ladder, thank you.

"Top it is then… Taiith, come here?" Donis displays a weyrbred's disregard for proprieties in addressing dragons directly. "And I'm not that much taller than you, Silas," he points out, pouring some of the white paint into another container, ready to clamber up the blue and start painting.

Silas gets up again with a sigh, looking down at the two masterly brushstrokes he's already made near the bottom. Yes, he's a genius, but then, he's never had to paint anything. He gives a shrug at Donis, backstepping to give room for the blue stepladder, then miraculously finds a real ladder and puts it up against the wall. "Start at the top. Right.. I'll remember that next time. The only time I had to deal with colours was when we dyed clothes. Entirely different process."

Taiith rumbles complacently and maneuvers himself into position to become a living stepladder. A snort is sent in Silas's direction. Too good for him, then? "The only time I've dyed clothes was during my own candidacy." Ah, memories.

Donis uses Taiith's straps to clamber up one-handed, bucket swinging from the other. "Good lad," he compliments the dragon absently, positioning himself between a pair of neckridges and then leaning precariously over to start daubing the walls with white. "Don't think I've ever dyed anything - what did you do during Candidacy, A'ran? I don't remember."

Silas glances over at the snorting blue and moves his ladder a few more feet away from the dragon. No telling what he might do, is there? Better to get some distance between them. He climbs up, paintbucket, brush and all and finds himself still unable to reach the top of the wall. With a resigned sigh, he simply begins where he can reach, looking back at the rider, "what are you going to paint here, by the way?"

"Well, there was that fort I helped build the second time around. But I was thinking more about the underwear." His eyes shift toward Silas. Getting ideas? Well, you didn't hear it from him. And don't try it on his underwea5r. But Pyrene's is fair game.

"Well, yeah. I helped with the fort," Donis points out to A'ran, adjusting his position on the dragon. "Was the underwear your first time then?" he checks, dabbing more paint on the wall and then glancing over towards Silas, on his ordinary ladder.

"Fort?" Silas asks, pretending not to have heard anything about underwear, though it does sound intriguing. Brush goes in the paint bucket and paint goes on the wall and he looks from Donis to A'ran and back again, "you two were candidates together?"

A'ran points to the pencil-lines already on the wall, not considering that from their distance his helpers won't be able to see them anyway. "I decided on a tropical scene. I wanted to do the bowl in winter, but Taiith said it felt too cold. So I decided to kove things to Ista." He begins dabbing on the leaves of the bush. "Yep. The underwear were with Palia's help. And yes, we stood together…How long has it been?"

"About six Turns," Donis answers A'ran after a moment's though, squinting obligingly towards the invisible pencil lines, and then giving up with a shrug and going back to his painting. "That was your first time then, if it was Palia," he ponders, and then his brain catches up to Silas. "You haven't seen the fort yet? You mean you haven't been down into the dark and scary and webbed caverns, to search for the peephole?"

On a clear night, one might have trouble determining the difference between the weyr's ceiling and the sky outside. Even the uneveness of the ceiling gives a good effect, making some of the milk-white stars appear dimmer and more distant than others. Below, on the lowver three-quarters of the walls, it is a lush summer night in a place far from High Reaches. Palm trees and oher vegetation sway in a soft breeze, and a bonfire burns in a clearing, where several people are seated. A bottle of Benden wine is lodged in the sand nearby. On the wall opposite the entrance, the ocean can be spied, gentle and inviting.

"Taiith's right," Silas agrees, nodding toward the exit, "if you want a scene from the bowl all you have to do is look out the door. And besides, this place needs a little warmth." He pauses for a moment, considering what he said, then adds, "the weyr in general, I mean. Not your home.." He attempts to look at the mural's pencil lines as well, but shakes his head, then turns to Donis, "No… Haven't had time. And I think I'd rather not get lost down there.."

A'ran raises an eyebrow. "You've never explored the caverns? You have to, sometime! There are all kindas of secret passages. You could disappear for the whole candidacy, if you really tried." Until some other candidate turned you in. "Do you think this color looks okay?" he asks. Taiith moves to have a look.

"I've tried and failed…" Donis comments dryly, referring to getting lost. "Somehow, someone always seems to find me… Hey, careful!" he calls out as Taiith moves and Donis grabs for the straps and drops his paintbrush. "Scorch it!"

"Maybe I should have a look around down there sometime, then.." Silas grins, shifting slightly on his ladder as the blue moves and Donis drops his brush. "I can always do it under the pretence of looking for Dellena, after all."

A'ran runs over to get the paintbrush and holds it up to Donis. "Sorry. I never thought that my question could injure you. Taiith says to hold on while he moves back to his original position."

Donis reaches for the paintbrush, and carries on holding tightly to the straps with his free hand. "Oh, don't worry - this isn't as bad as Dad's blue used to do to me when I was a kid. Maybe he was trying to dislodge me, I dunno." He doesn't really seem too uncomfortable. "I'll show you down there, if you like, Silas. And any of the other Candidates who want to come, too. I can show off our fort." He gives A'ran a grin.

Silas grins at Donis, nodding as he gets off the ladder, putting bucket and brush on the floor to head over for some of those inticing meatrolls, "I'd appreciate that Donis, thank you," he says and sidles over to get a closer look at A'ran's mural, squinting to see the pencil lines, tilting his head as he chews, "I think I'd like to see it when it's done, if you don't mind, that is?"

A'ran smiles and heads back to his own wall. "It's a masterpiece, that fort. Your balance is probably pretty good then, thank Faranth." He moves toward the snack trays, only to see that there's only one remaining meatroll. "Tell you what. We're out of food. Let's go on a snack run. And don't worry, I'll bring you up when it's finished."

Donis drops his paintbrush neatly down Taiith's side and into one of the pots - well, mostly neatly. It bounces off Taiith's knee, leaving a white streak. "Ooops. Sorry 'bout that, Taiith. Snack run sounds good, A'ran, and if my friend Teila is in the kitchens, I can get us some sweetrolls too, at least."

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