The Weyrlings graduate in drag

27th August 2000
Logged by Pyrene

Central Bowl
It is a summer midmorning. The sky is a deep clear blue, and as the sun ascends, it begins to get hot. Only a faint breeze stirs, offering little solace from the bright sun.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Zhaneel, Vanitas, Kya, Miki, Antietam, Tremayne, Rydia, Immie, Archimedes, Maksim, Sentanta, Gyahaahaa, Psychopathe, and Lihai.
Green Kelitath, brown Sevareth, green Miravith, brown Revnath, and gold Cadgwith are here.

Long shapely legs flow into full hips and melt into curvy waist, showing that, indeed, Auri has developed that perfect hourglass figure that little body has always promised, with rounds and a bust that rivals even Lis. Still, the totality of the frame is still decidedly petite, and sweet childlike face is almost unchanged. The epitome of innocence times three, she is lightly tainted by just a pinch of maturity dispersed about her features. Cherubic heart-shaped face has slightly elongated, but the single dimple on her right cheek, rosy cheeks, and pouty, pink, full lips remain untouched. Snub nose seems to have lengthened as well, though the mischievious lilt is still there. A pair of huge, liquid cerulean eyes take up half her face, deceptively demure, lined with thick dark lashes. Bountiful locks of gold curls, a cascade of shining sunlight, frame her round face and flow down past her shoulders, twisty locks a perfect summary of a bouncy, curvy, happy appearance.
Skintight rasberry leathers, seemingly painted onto Auri, reveal something surprising. Auri? Figure? And a quite nice one, actually, especially for one of her Turns. The color of the leathers leans towards pink, though still enough like a certain WLM's outfit to make a person stare. White weyrhide boots are abandoned for shiny balck ones, as well as a bright, multi-colored striped scarf that holds back blonde curls, its long fringed tails draped over her shoulders playfully. Auri's Basket hangs heavily from Auri's shoulder.
A knot of double cords: new and crips, piercing sky blue, with silky ebony, pressed and tied pertly as always, while a snake of pale spring green snakes through it both innocently and deviously.
Auri is 15 Turns, 10 months, and 22 days old.

Slight and spindly, from skimpy legs to sharp chin, her frame is nevertheless held as stubbornly tall as possible, falling only just shy of average height. Lank tendrils of dark brown hair plague a pointed-nosed, thin-lipped face as they escape the limp plait that struggles to keep them under control, only serving to emphasise the peakiness of her complexion. Yet if there were any doubts about her vitality, the grey eyes that snap out from beneath dark brows eliminate them as effectively as twin thunderstorms.
Summertime is an excuse to show off muscles for certain 'men', however pale and skimpy they may be - and that's precisely what Pyrene's doing, in a strange color combination of acid-green shorts and orange-and-blue-flower-patterned shirt. Ahem. The fact that the shirt is open to her skinny waist doesn't help matters, but at least some careful stitching (and quite probably judicious use of adhesive) is keeping everything decent. Brown leather sandals complete the charming combo… Keeping watch from Pyrene's shoulder is Gunwalloe. Poldhu is playing with Pyrene's knot.
The knot of candidate white is replaced with a single weyrling loop of blue and black along with a discoloured gold ribbon to entice a certain pesky fire lizard.
Pyrene is 21 Turns, 6 months, and 10 days old.

A slight girl, barely reaching 5'8, with short, ebony tresses that have been allowed to grow out to just above her ears. Her jade green eyes are her most noticeable feature, looking out from under long, thick, lashes. High arching eyebrows stand out against skin tanned to a yellow brown while soft, ruby lips curve gently. A small, upturned nose compliments her angular chin, which is often tilted defiantly and gives her a rather impish look. Farther down, her frame, while rather frail in appearance, does carry the curves that show her to be female, though little else about her presence would indicate it. Her arms are a bit long with tapering fingers and rather short nails and her legs seem to be a bit much for her to control.
Sun kissed lavender writhes across her form, lean contours shaped and wrestled down, flaring into brilliant sunset of melodious violet. Light hues dim, limning the edge of frayed leather cuffs before losing itself around tightness of this rider's leathers that cover her frame in tie dyed splendor. Few stray threads of the black and blue of High Reaches weave themselves in, picked stitchery keeping attire together. Sheathing boots of mundane black climb up her legs, legs of trousers sliding to cover those into obscurity. Cut to be noticed, the material Clinging to Lyri's right arm is Columbia. Perched on Lyri's shoulder is Cyclone. Clinging to Lyri's left arm is Amulet.
Lyri is 18 Turns, 11 months, and 25 days old.

Rygel steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Sugar comes in from ::between::, swooping around in small circles.

Druseth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
A labyrinth of dragon to climb down, Lylia descends slowly down from the safety of Druseth's neck, to land on the ground with a soft *thud*.

Alymath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Lis tries not to bump 'gainst any sharp joints as she slides down Alymath's forearm.

A pair of piercing, forest-green eyes stare out from a pale face, the orbs reflecting her relaxed yet mischievious personality. Hints of ocean blue are in them, diluting the emerald color. Her reddish-blond hair is in a slightly loose braid going past her shoulders, and hanging partway down her back. A few stray wisps that escape the plait frame either side of her face, if not getting in her eyes. There's a sense of tranquility about, but her grin that occasionally creeps up is one of a wilder inner fire. The rest of her body is a bit skinny to appear anything but awkward on the tall girl, even while standing still, even if some muscle is there. Surprisingly, her movements show subtle grace.
Juicy raspberry red drips and pools down leather's fitted length, fading to a ghostly pale pink or blushing near maroon in some crevices: near the creases of elbow, seat and knee. Various whorls of marauding dye leaves unique patterns of starbursts, waterfalls and hurricanes - all in that same delicious shade somewhere between magenta and vermillion.
Dark cerulean and coal-black cords twist together, winding into a pair of loops while silver thread peeks through. A small black tassel hangs closely to the knot, which also contains one last touch: a single, murky brown ribbon is woven into it, blending in with the other dark shades. Pinned just beside it is a badge, a blue wave against white, marking her of Tsunami wing, while the coloring for the rest shows her to be an assistant weyrlingmaster for the High Reaches Weyr.
Lylia is 20 Turns, 2 months, and 7 days old.

Lis' oval-shaped face is filled out with a pleasant pudginess that adolescence couldn't melt away, upturned nose sitting 'tween mud-puddle brown eyes. Half-spirals of brass unwind into soft waves just above her shoulders, trimmed for practical riding purposes but long enough to satisfy her vanity. Skin fades to a honey'd alabaster, pouring over her now-smooth face and any uncovered skin.
Milk does a body good, but raspberry does Lis' better, comfortably coating the greenrider's form with a syrupy, berry-bright pair of leathers. Spartan in design, their most notable feature is an overall snuggness of fit, usually hinting of her shopping in other people's closests. The collar and top few togs are undone, letting the greenrider's greenest tunic show off it's vibrant grassy hue. Boots from her usual black leathers are retained for the jingle of buckles just below her knees, and a scarf of entirely too many colors drapes its coils around her neck.
Midnight's black coils in a single loop around the blue of twightlight, flashes of celestial silver seen through nights colors. Soaring through an evening sky is a garish green ribbon matching Alymath's hide, and sitting just beneath it a wave-decorated badge, marking Lis a Tsunami Wingrider for High Reaches Weyr.

Nekomieth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Asher steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
Daeyn steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Wiry and lean, her form is as streamlined as mercury, the lines of corded muscles and sparse curves melding and melting into each other. Lithe and elongated, she must stand over six feet tall. Her face glows light golden beneath its soft sandalwood tan, as if lit by some inner incandescence. Her pale blue eyes are of disconcerting lightness, sharp and keen. They leap out starkly in a face composed of angles … a face rough, harsh and faintly mishapen that is further marred by the outline of a deep knife-scar across her left cheekbone. Sunkissed mahogany tendrils curl about her tendrils, escaped from the tight braid that falls to midway down her back. Dark, thin brows expressively accent her expression, though her face tends towards the hidden neutrality of a mask. When she speaks, her voice is even blended between alto and tenor, cool and androgynous.
A royal blue shirt falls loosely around her, austerely cut in a manner reminiscent of guard's uniform, with close-fitted sleeves of three-quarter length that end in tight, narrow cuffs. Plain-tailored obsidian trousers fit her expertly, even as they defy the cast of her form and smooth what few hints of curves she has into a sleek, androgynous line. Boots and belt match the latter in hue, rounding off the look. Perched on Daeyn's shoulder is Cytherea. Perched on Daeyn's shoulder is Liulfr.
Daeyn is 19 Turns, 7 months, and 4 days old.

To the greater relief of Nekomieth, Kamaria judges the distance from mount to ground too far and, causing the soft hide to twitch in a ticklish fashion as hands trail down shoulder in support of a wriggling slide, she alights under the attentive gaze of the green, accompanied by a soft thump.

An abundance of long limbs and deprived of all but the most gentle of feminine curves, Kamaria's lithe form is very rarely the purported fount of grace; rather a vast bundle of energy at odds with itself. Her lot is not entirely a bad one, however -chance dealt generously in the way of facial features, lending round, luminous eyes, a small, pert nose, and full, well shaped lips. Silver sheened, obsidian tresses are partially pulled into clever knots on either side of her head, long fingers occasionally reaching up to brush back brow length bangs; the rest of the silky mass ripples in faint waves just past her shoulders, no longer the vanity it once was.
Slightly oversized, the borrowed clothing still does the purpose for Kam. Thick, baggy trousers hang loosley on the young woman's hips, kept in place only by her usual, worn belt. The legs are tucked into soft thick boots, just like the owner recommended. Her fur lined jacket, a rusty brown, is buttoned from collar to hem. Can never be too warm, ya know. Perched on Kamaria's shoulder is Tainn.
Kamaria is 28 Turns, 4 months, and 16 days old.

Anwyllth paces with measured step in from the Beach.

Lis wanders in, /with/ Lylia. Insofar as two dragons taking off and landing seperately can be considered 'with'. "Ooh, Lyli-love, they're /graduating/." It's so cute - she was just in their position, a few Turns back.

Lyri leans back against Niamhyth's slightly radiant hide and, with a half hearted wave, greets the others as the make their way into the center bowl. Her leathers a bit tight for her normal style, the greenrider simply glowers.

Pyrene bounces lightly on her toes, her arms resolutely crossed over her midriff. Maybe after a few drinks she'll be happier. Cadgwith resides calmly and looks… present. Very much so. Make room people.

Lylia and Lis arrive sorta at the same time? Anyway. Once Lylia's slid off Druseth's neck, she's immediately sauntering over to Lis, giving a misty little smile. "We were them not to long ago, weren't we?" Aww. Her kiddos are /graduating/. Lovely bunch. Though she's quick to eye the bunch nervously. And D'renn. Gotta be scared of that one.

Miravith flops green dragon paws over to Pyrene, baby chubby face leaning in to snuffle towards the goldrider. Porridge smell…Auri, on the other hand, is unusually sedate, simply standing still with a hand on her green's side, a humongously bright beam never leaving her face.

D'renn is there too of course. And damn right you should be scared of him. Not raspberry, but /lime/ today… a delightful taffeta concoction with a plunging neckline to show rather hairy cleavage. Whose idea was the cross-dressing again?

Daeyn leans against Anwyllth's side, head bent into the massive forelimb and eyes closed for the moment. She's either in rebellion to the theme or too staid to even consider the idea: take your pick.

Kamaria hits the ground, shuddering slightly at the impact, a bit jarring on the feet. Impish smile in place, she's content to lean against Neko for now, and watch the proceedings. A redfruit is fished out of some inner pocket. Never be without food.

Yolk blinks in from ::between::!

Pyrene ducks green dragon face and tries to scowl at Auri - difficult when she's smiling nearly as widely as the perky greenrider. "Thought we'd never get here, huh, brat?" she asks in friendly fashion. Anything to distract her from what /D'renn's/ wearing.

Etain steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Sardrinth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Thesy gently slides down Sardrinth's neck, startled by a huge frosted muzzle sniffing at her, and lands with a soft thud.

Almost 6 feet tall, the young blue rider is still quite slim, but over the last turns she has developed strong muscles and female curves, to which her recent motherhood has added nicely. Short black curls frame the small face with its high cheek bones, straight nose and determined chin, dominated by huge, deeply set eyes of dark blue.Thanks to a lot of time spent outside her skin has taken on the golden tinge of a soft tan. Long-legged and graceful like the runners at her native hold on the wide plains of Keroon, she strides with a confidence that only the bond with a dragon awards.
The tunic, matching the blue of the silk hair-ribbon, is embroidered on the yolk in varying shades of blue, from summer sky to just lighter than the fabric of the tunic itself. The neck-slit of the tunic runs to the middle of the breastbone, allowing a few tendrils of silvery curls to peek out past the fabric when R'gis wears it, but not now, only smooth skin. Tailored in the poet's fashion, the body billows in every breeze, as do the sleeves except where they have been tied tightly around the wrists. The tunic is tucked into cream colored wherhide trousers where it blousons over the waistband. The trews have been cut to fit snugly to each curve of the figure from waist to knee where they tuck into lightweight, softsoled wherhide boots of the same color. There is a band of embroidery, carefully stitched into the delicate leather of the opening of the boot. The embroidery is the same pattern and shades of blue as the embroidery on his tunic.
The double cord of royal blue and black, a strand of midnight blue intertwining, bound by gold thread and tied to a double loop with one tassle indicates that Thesy is a Wingleader of the 'Reaches.
Thesy is 24 Turns and 4 months old.

Psychopathe suddenly disappears ::between::!

D'renn skulks his way over to the Lylia and Lis pairing, albeit reluctantly. Not even a leer toward Lis as the sheepish bluerider mutters toward Lylia, "You want to do the honours?" Reasons for this request are omitted, although most people would think that keeping his cleavage offstage would be good one.

Peorth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
R'gis slides down Peorth's shoulder, hopping lightly from the proferred forelimb.

His long, white-blond hair is twisted up into a complicated braid and tied with a dark blue, silk ribbon. It is reminiscient of the cascade of a sunkissed waterfall when allowed to flow loosely down his back, falling to nearly his knees. His large, cloud-grey eyes sparkle with mischief when content or happy and snap sparks when angry. His sensuous lips quirk in a perpetual smile, flashing snowy white teeth whenever he has reason to genuinely smile…and you'll /know/ when he does. His hands are slender and graceful - -and seem quite dextrous. He is very slender for his height, a mere 135 lbs on a light 5'8 frame. His shoulders, broad and strong, taper down to a thin waist and long, well-muscled legs. Around his right wrist is a woven bracelet in black and white with Harper blue beads interspersed with the threads making up the body of the bracelet, a gift from Ambar. Clasping the ringfinger of his left hand is a small gold ring, a gift from his weyrmate. Though it is not the usual shape of a ring. The top of the ring is a small heart, slightly overhanging the rest of the gold band. The heart is being held by a hand on each side that extends from the top of the band. On the heart are two stones that have both been brilliant cut. The stone on the right is a brilliant ruby that is about half the size of a pebble, the other stone is a sparkling blue sapphire. On the top of the heart is a crown with part of the heart extending through it.
Soft and billowing, this garment gently surrounds him in a nimbus of dark blue with just the hint of green. The gauze like fabric ripples and flows with each breeze and movement, light and airy enough to remain cool even on the Hatching Sands. The low scooped neck and short cap sleeves are trimmed in dark yellow, a matching braided cord belt holding the dress in at the waist. Reaching down to below mid-calf, it reveals the soft wherhide of elegant boots a shade darker than the blue of the dress. The low scooped neck shows a goodly amount of silvery curls and the short sleeves exposing lean well-muscled arms denote better than anything else that he is indeed male. Otherwise, he could pass as a rather flat-chested woman.
A braid of and a deep blue are twisted together into a single loop, a long tail hanging down from his shoulder. Wound thru the loop is a ribbon of emeraldine, indicative of his beloved Peorth.
R'gis is 22 Turns, 5 months, and 8 days old.

Lyri just _looks_ at D'renn, but doesn't say much about it at all. Instead, her eyes turn toward Niamhyth for a moment before she gives a firm shake of her head, as if to dismiss something completely. Others are noted and her frown deepens, though she has yet to say anything outwardly.

Sugar does a few loops in the air before diving dizzily ::between::!

Auri blinks a bit at Pyrene. "Here? But we've come to the central bowl /tons/ of times, Nanrene," she pipes up good-naturedly, as Miravith continues to examine Pyrene with swirling, curious, hungry eyes…. The little greenrider eyes D'renn. Perhaps Tyara and Lylia were right when they first told her about the weyrlingmaster. Auri's innocent eyes shouldn't be seeing such…cleavage.

Lylia remains oh-so-innocently stuck to Lis's side. She has to defend her greenrider, after all. It's that Druseth protective instinct rubbing off on her. She can't hide a tiny giggle as she /stares/ at D'renn, choking back a laugh. "Certainly." He might scare the crowd…. But the girl can't help a little leer. Lime /is/ his color. "Get the crowd's attention, and I'll start talkin'. The knots are all up there?" She blankly peers towards the front of the crowd.

Etain looks at all of the people as she walks from the caverns to the bowl. "Am I interupting anything?" She looks at all of the peopple curiously and smiles, knowing them.

R'gis sighs in exasperation as he dismounts. "It's sharding -hard- to dismount in this getup…." he mutters. Peorth curves her head around to nudge him gently, wuffling at the dress curiously and apparently complimenting her rider when he blushes prettily, accentuating his feminine features.

Pyrene chuckles, eyes dancing wildly at R'gis and Thesy. She's slightly hysterical… nerves combined with her 'seemed-a-good-idea-at-the-time' outfit. "I meant graduation… from weyrlinghood, Auri love. Faranth knows the first time I met you and advised you not to tell the other brats you didn't like mud, I never dreamed we'd be here."

Zai walks in.

Short, sienna colored curls are chopped short, held back from Zai's face with an ever-changing assortment of hair clips. Misbehaving tendrils escape from their ties, to hang in her face, or stick out wildly. Her skin is tanned a deep golden color, from hours spent outside, and freckles liberaly dot her pert nose, and sweep across her high cheekbones. Long and dark lashes surround her sapphire eyes, so pale they edge on an icy-white hue at times. Small and lithe describes Zai, although by no means petite. Arms and legs are short, but muscular, ending with small hands in feet and long, deft fingers. Despite her turns, Zai's subtle curves remain mostly hidden under the muscle of her upper body.
Borrowed tunic, several sizes too large for Zai, is drapped over her upperhalf, although it hangs much farther than intended thanks to its large size. A dull, faded gray, the tunic looks like it was taken from the Weyr's lost and found. And it most likely was. Legs are clothed in a pair of also too large trousers, the startling purple material billowing out from her legs. Waist to wide indeed for poor little Zai-let, a pitiful brown belt wraps around her waist but does little for her. Instead, a pair of colorful boxers peak out over the top of the purple pants. Cuff turned up at her ankles, plain brown, and very male boots stick out. Curled upon himself, with tail snaking about Zai's neck, is MiniPui.
A single looped twist of obsidian and cobalt twists together with an added dash of silver, and a single strand of brown - the color of Zai's Puizuth. Added to the mix of colors, a virulent crest of water decorates her wing badge. All combined, it marks her as a Tsunami Wingrider at High Reaches Weyr.
She is wearing a silver chain bracelet with the Apprentice charms.
Zai is 21 Turns, 8 months, and 15 days old.

Thesy fiddles with the neckline of her borrowed tunic, still not convinced that it doesn't show too much. At least the belt is taking care of the too wide trews, keeping them from slipping down. "Pretty this is but definitely not my size," she mutters on her way over to the group of weyrlings and their masters. A look at D'renn and she doubles up, "Shells, D'renn! Where did you get /this/?"

Daeyn snorts softly as she observes her fellows dealing with their outfits, an odd smile gracing her features the only hint by watching the brownrider that this is at all an unusual moment. She does, however, make a fairly concerted effort to look anywhere but D'renn. A…hem.

D'renn rustles a lime taffeta path towards Thesy. "Found it left in my weyr," he admits tugging ineffectually at the neckline. "I suspect Nuff… Or Shawn maybe…" and he glares through the crowd, searching for said riders.

Kamaria casts a furtive glance at D'renn. How could he? The greenrider stifles a giggle in her redfruit, juice dribbling down her chin, staining the front of her tunic. Men definitely have the short end of the stick. Kam glances down at herself, feeling, all in all, quite comfortable. Not like D'renn. He might be feeling a bit of a draft.

R'gis glances around him once he's straightened the dress so that it at least looks as good on him as is possible and strolls toward the group, recognizing one outfit in particular. Smiling, he slips up next to the bluerider who's obviously stolen his clothes and slips an arm around her waist. "You look lovely, dear." he murmurs, leaning close to Thesy's ear. "I never thought that would look as good on you as it does."

Lyri gives one more glance toward D'renn and then just shakes her head as she tugs the neckline of her own outfit down a bit; it's the heat, honest! "Sharding warm," she mutters before giving yet another _look_ in R'gis direction. Perhaps she should cover Auri's eyes now?

"D'renn, D'renn, D'renn…." Lylia just shakes her head, scooting forward as she lets out another little giggle. Oye. Never know 'bout them blueriders. But with a definite bounce in her step, she discreetly makes her way to where the small table rests near the entrance to the 'caverns, a few knots piled on it. Tentatively, she clears her throat. "Um…. Ahem? Hello?" Speaking in front of crowds. Greaaaat.

"Not Shawn," Thesy is still laughing and actually forgets about the tunic, "She'd never wear something like that." She's not so sure about Nuff, though. "Ummm … I hope you don't mind?" The bluerider blushes and remembers the neckline, a hand going up to it immediately again. "Thank you, I always liked it a lot. Maybe I should get me some leathers like that. The colours are so pretty." And go so well with her colouring, no?

Pyrene flashes a grin to Etain spotting the other former brat, before blinking worriedly over at Lyri. Her own hand starts to cover Auri's eyes, but then she restrains her nanny reflexes, and wanders over to Kamaria instead. "Got anymore redfruit?" Oh, wait… it's starting. Cadge raises her head and resonates her response to Lylia's 'hello'.

F'ish swishes in in full drag, dark black velvet skirt extending in a train trailing after the man a good 2 feet, a savage basque of crimson tied around the poet's gaunt frame, though the cape, and his queer little cap remain on him, as do his purple tinted riding goggles. And the heels! Black weyrhide sandals with stud spikes raising him high into the air. Amazing the bluerider can walk, really. Gray eyes turn to D'renn. "For once the poet has no words to describe the horror of this day. …yeah…."

Zai is here! To save the day? No probably not. She slips in as she tugs at the too large tunic decorating her frame and wanders over to the other Weyrlings. "Have I missed anything?" She wispers to the group at large, hoping one of them will return an answer. Eyes scan the assortment of costumes, widening at some, and smirks growing on her face at others.

Peia and Morie fidget in lad's tunics that are indecently tight and revealing. The girls aren't bothered by the fact that they're flaunting their nascent figures… the problem is that the person who's supposed to see them isn't /there/. Namely M'rin.

Etain smiles. She's the best kind of brat, the former kind. No, nix that. She's the second bets kind, The bets kind if a dead brat. That's what she's been told anyway. Many times actually.

Just when you thought it was safe to leave the shadows of your dragon … Daeyn shudders at the sight of F'ish … though the quirking of her lips is not laughter, really. "Valiant effort …" the brownrider murmurs under her breath, finally drawing up her courage and joining her fellows.

Kamaria grins at Pyrene, taking the required few steps to offer her the extra redfruit. She only carries two, you know. "Here." It's a whisper, meant to be quiet and unobtrusive to the speech giver, since no good has ever come of interrupting anyone. Not for Kamaria, at least.

R'gis grins and kisses Thesy's cheek. "Not at all, love…I'm glad you like it so well." he murmurs, eyes following Lylia though his attention is elsewhere. "I see that you're having a bit of a problem with the neckline though…..Does it bother you that low?"

Pyrene snatches the redfruit hastily and then ducks into line beneath the shadow of her dragon, flashing a grin to Kamaria by way of thanks. "It's alright Daeyn," she murmurs to the brownrider's silhouette, before nervously clasping her hands about herself again.

Looking relieved that Lylia's going to handle things, D'renn takes the time to notice what everybody's wearing… including Thesy's neckline. After all, she /does/ keep tugging at it like that. He could hardly avoid noticing it.

Lylia taps her toe lightly on the makeshift stage, leaning against the small table as she stares at the group. /F'ish/… Oooh. She likes that one. With a tiny grin on her lips, she claps her hands together in an attempt to call some attention to the crowd. Or not. "Hello! In case you didn't know, we're here today to see our weyrlings graduate, and officially become full wingriders!" And if they don't know that…

Tatoria walks in.

"Oh, all right then. But thanks." Thesy smiles until she notices D'renn's look. So motherhood does have its adavantages, huh? Oh well, she'll survive even /that/. After all, it's only for this event. "No, not really. I'm just not used to it. But you better get over to the others now, no?" She chuckles as her eyes give R'gis a slow look over. Dang it, she never looked that good in that dress.

Auri jumps in the air, a great feat for someone wearing as tight rasberry leathers as Auri. "Yippeee for us! Hip hip, hooray! We're so cool! Yay, us!" Riiight. Blonde curls fly up and down as Auri does her little cheerleader dance, ending with her hands clasped in front of her and eyes on Lylia. See? She's being a good little girl and listening now.

Lyri sighs and rolls her eyes. "As if we couldn't guess." Don't mind her, she's just a little agitated, that's all. The others are eyed and Zai given a brief smile before she leans back, it's as if she weren't bothered by the proceedings at all.

Etain looks over at Tato as she walks in and waves to her friend, smileing. Red lips are curved and dimples show on cheeks. "What brings you up here because I still haven't figured out what is going on."

Lis, deprived of her Lylia-ornament, now has to find some other victim to latch onto to. Or be latched onto. It's all relative, so long as there's latching going on. Clapping idly for each of the weyrlings that graduate, she fidgets awkwardly, silently snickering at each of the males in attendance. Most noteably, however, D'renn.

Pyrene catcalls appropriately at Lylia. After nearly two turns, she still has no respect for the poor girl. "Calm down Auri," she mutters, fidgeting eagerly herself. Then she squeals: "Tatty! Tat! You came! How did you know??"

R'gis sighs and nods. "I suppose so……I'll see you in a little while, dearest." he murmurs, giving her a parting kiss before he falls into the weyrling line a bit late. He blinks and shakes his head slightly as he passes D'renn though, scary.

Zai gives her outfit one last tug, and picks at a invisible speck of dust before turning her attention to Lylia. At the mention of full riders, she stands a little strighter and tries to look, well, important. And, of course, she fails misrably.

Daeyn folds her arms behind her back, inclining forward slightly and letting her attention flicker from one sight to the next, lips twitching but expression otherwise smoothed over, even solemn. Someone get the brownrider to relax.

D'renn rustles some more as he tugs at his skirt. "How do you manage to keep these things straight?" he asks Thesy - or her chest anyway. "Mind you, it keeps my legs cool." Nice and breezy under there….

A little brat boy scampers into the crowd, toting his sister in hand. The little girl poitns at Lis' outfit, commenting loudly to her brother, "She's wearing the clothes that that D'renn rider always wears. Why's she wearing his clothes?" Her brother hushes her, hissing, "Oh, you know Lis and D'renn. They do all sorts of weird stuff…" His sister blinks. "D'renn? Wh-" And before the boy can turn around, his sister is running off screaming. Poor traumatized girl.

Thesy simply ignores the fact that only her bust is getting talked to and replies equably, "It's easy, D'renn. You only need to keep your legs together when you're walking." And with this little piece of wisdom she slips in a chair beside the weyrlingmaster.

Tatoria sidles in, attention focused more on the ground under her feet than anything else. It's important you know. Want to avoid those rocks. At voices, she glances up, eyes automatically widening in surprise. A crowd? A crowd full of people she /knows/? "Um… I'm visiting Lili for a bit," she whispers in respons, sidleing feet carrying her toward Etain. "Kaz actually gave me /permission/." Her voice holds obvious deisbelief, though it doesn't last long as someone else speaks her name. "Py!" she shrieks, flying in that direction. "How did I know what? What's everyone doing? Oh, it feels like /forever/ since I've seen you! How's Cadgwith?" The questions come pouring out.

Taptaptap. Lylia keeps up her sharp stare, breaking her pleasant facade for a moment to glower at Pyrene. "I can keep that knot, y'know." Hmph. But she goes back to that plastered-on smile, aided by a little wine before getting up there. "Anyway. It's been a long Turn and a half since the weyrlings first Impressed their dragons. They've gone from new lifemates who could barely feed their dragons, to true riders, flying in Threadfall and doing many of the duties that will be required of them from now on. I know that I and the other weyrlingmasters are proud of them. They've grown up a lot. Even Auri." Snicker. There's something impressive. "The weyrlings and their dragons have been studying hard, and now they're ready to take their new positions."

Etain watches D'renn and is on the verge of laughing. She bites down on her lip to keep herself from bursting out. "Who's idea was this whole theme anyway?" She looks at Tato in disbelief. Oh gosh, Kaz gave her premission. Wow, just, wow.

Did someone mention Lis, D'renn and 'weird stuff' in the same sentence? The greenrider's eyes seek out the screaming girl's brother for a particulaly withering glare as she heads towards - ooh, Tatoria. Fellow Starcrafter, though Lis has been out of the craft for Turns. "'Lo, Tat!" she calls amiably, even if she's got to run into Py at the same time.

D'renn sits and very quickly discovers the wisdom of that advice as his skirt rides up. Snapping his legs together and tugging at the skirt, his attention wanders from Thesy to the cleav - outfits of other riders. Hmm.

Tatoria clears her throat, skidding backwards at Lylia's words. Perhaps she shoudl just stay.. back… for a while. Safer. Next to Etain. Yes, that's it.

Kariel steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Before you stands a rather quickly growing individual, about five foot eight. The once well-proportioned boy has grown rather rapidly into what you see before you: an incredibly lanky, skinny adolescent. As your gaze trails over his lithe body, you first arrive upon his straight, if often mussed, platinum blonde locks. From beneath his shaggy bangs, simply ravishing sapphire eyes eagerly look upon the world, a twinkle in them at all time. Rosy cheeks, which glow when he's smiling, grace his usually meticulously cleanshaven face. Upon noticing your gaze, he casts you a sheepish grin… who can resist melting?
Kariel has abandoned all sense of sanity… and for that matter, morality… in choosing his outfit for tonight. Having raided Siannen's closet for his attire, he didn't care to think about the height difference between them, which is about a foot and a half, before squeezing his big rear end into it. He has chosen a baby blue jumper… sleeveless, with a scooped neck. He being so much larger, it seems he's about to burst out of it, the outfit skintight all the way down to his waist, where it begins to flare a bit, trailing to just about halfway between knees and… well, the next area up. He wears no shoes, not being able to find any to fit, but instead wears matching frilly socks. Oh, my. And being a semi-furry guy for a 16 year old and all, legfur, chest fur and underarmfur are pretty ghastly appearances. Be /afraid/, everyone, be very afraid. Kariel's Bag o' Healer Stuff hangs heavily from Kariel's shoulder. Kariel wears Kariel's Listening Tube around his neck.
Purple and white interweave in a double cord, trailed by a single loop and a long tassle of blue and black, signifying him as a Senior Apprentice of the Healercraft, posted to High Reaches Weyr.
Kariel is 16 Turns, 5 months, and 7 days old.

Pyrene winks at Lylia unrepentantly but not rudely. Tatoria gets a wave and she hisses "graduation!" in case the former candidate hadn't guessed. Cadgwith is evidently in good health, watching the goings on with idly bemused fascination.

R'gis is having little trouble keeping his skirt straight, it's just him to keep his knees together when he walks. He keeps his ear tuned to Lylia but his eyes wander the crowd, taking in all the odd outfits people are wearing. Stray wisps of silvery hair escape his carefully tightened braid, making him smooth his hands over his head to keep them out of his face.

Lyri just sits and waits, her foot tapping out an impatient rythm as she leans back against Niamhyth once again. Her throat is cleared rather loudly as she gives the leathers another tug downward.. simply because of the heat, you understand. Her lifemate gives a few unsettled shuffles before resting her head on the ground to watch the humans, her draconic expression rather nervous.

Kariel slides out from the living caverns, tugging uncomfortably at his dress… sighing in frustration. Well, he managed to get it on- even if he'd rather take it off. Whine. Toes wriggle in his frilled socks and he tries to stay along the outskirts of the group… nope, not here. Not in a dress. Nope.

Puizuth pads quietly in from the Beach.

Kamaria is licking her fingers when something catches her eye…and she just /stares/. Kariel. That is definitely a match for D'renn. Even Nekomieth whuffles a bit at that. Fearing to interrupt the proceedings with an uncontrolable bout of laughter, Kamaria turns foward, refusing steadfastedly to look anywhere but straight ahead.

Lis' eyes wander, perusing the crowd - and their outfits - with a healthy appreciation of one purple-clad gal. "Wonder what color she rides…" A little more staring, and she's recognized as Lyri. Oops. With a visible flush, the greenrider keeps her roaming eyes on Lylia. Though, D'renn in a dress…

Tatoria glances at Etain, catching the question whether it was intended for her or not. "Theme?" she questions, returning Pyrene's wave with a slightly silly smile. Her eyes scan the gathering to catch anything that might be a theme running through them, then begins to grin. "Um.. knowing these ones, it could have been any number of people…"

Merra steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Slightly slanted, wide, deep forest green eyes peer at the world from an extremely tan, oval-shaped face. Thin and dark pink lips that can either intimidate or offer comfort sit under a faintly curved nose. Well-formed cheekbones tinged with just a hint of color. Although only 5'2, well-defined muscles are visible on arms and and legs, and slight work-callouses are visible on her delicate hands and feet. She is slender, but two pregnancies have defined her hips and chest a bit more.
A white tunic of her mate's is quite baggy on her, but she's managed to pull it off, lacing the ties a bit tighter than Araamis might. The tunic is tucked into black trous that are secured with a black belt. The bottoms are tucked into calf-high black boots. Her gold hair is braided and secured out of the way, covered by a black hat with a feather a la three musketeers. Perhaps oddest is the sheath at her waist bearing her mate's sword Amalthia, mostly because the sword is half her height. A gold and silver handfasting ring, the physical symbol of her union with Araamis, encircles one delicate finger perfectly. A silver necklace, a Turnday gift from one of her closest friends, hangs around her neck. Lazing about on one shoulder is Lythander. Lazing about on one shoulder is Cavan. Balanced on the top of her head is Myrddin. Perched on Merra's shoulder is Macha.
A single dark blue cord knotted once around her shoulder marks Merra as a resident at High Reaches Weyr.
Merra is 21 Turns, 6 months, and 8 days old.

Zai is nervous. Yep. Squriming uncomfortably in her outfit, she licks her lips and watches Lylia. One hand tugs absently on a curl and one foot kicks absently at a rock at her feet. Zai reaches down to tug her trousers up after a moment, both hands fumbling with the old belt around her waist as she tries to tighten it. Who's idea was this cross-dressing thing anyway?

Aztek winks in from ::between::, a harsh sun of bronze spreading below him.

Lainnoth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

With a hand on her pink leather-clad hip (rather raspberry, really. Cough), Lylia gives another bright smile. "Anyway, they're a wonderful group, and I'd like to call the first up here to receiver her knot. Weyrling wingleader Lyri, would you come up?" Ly's pokin' at the knots.

Pyrene nibbles on her redfruit. It's hot, but she has a dragon for shade and a juicy redfruit to cool her throat. Not bad. Of course, she's dripping juice right down her semi-exposed front, but you can't have everything. Her eyes flicker about the gathering, before she catches Ly's words and whoops loudly. "Lyri!!"

Sardrinth rumbles in an almost scared way, instinctively backing away from that healer appy appearance. The blue is used to quite something but this apparition seems nearly overwhelming him. His rider, though, can't help laughing at seeing Siannen's outfit on Kariel. She wouldn't have thought that something could be worse than D'renn today. But a not very friendly look from Lylia silences her laughter pretty quickly.

Lyri caught that look, yes she did, but she's far to preoccupied to react to it just now. Niamhyth's insistent nudging for attention takes any semblance of attentiveness away until, hearing her name, she makes her way toward Lylia… just don't look anywhere but her face.. that's really more of Lyri than was ever ment to be seen…

Daeyn didn't come up with the cross-dressing idea, so please send the lynch parties somewhere else. She watches every party out of the corner of her eye, not quite believing the assortment of … outfits around her. She blinks in astonishment when she notices Merra, just staring for a moment. Seems another voice of sanity has been lost … Lyri garners soft applause from the brownrider.

D'renn espies Lyri for the first time in that outfit and applauds dutifully for her achievements in weyrlinghood while eyeing her other 'achievements'. It's possible he started drinking earlier. He probably needed it, the way he's shifting uncomfortably in the dress. It's too tight… although at least this garment doesn't have any pockets.

Aztek hovers middair, the sun spirit of the land, and in a wink, is eclipsed ::between:: with a cold flush of air.

"Lyri!" Tatoria's voice raises in a semi-soft cheer, and a faint smile tugs at her lips as she remembers to be grateful for the reminder - Lyri. Shorter name, now. Her applause is barely there beyond the one word cheer - a faint slapping against her thighs as she watches.

Lylia scoots forward slightly, hovering quickly towards Lyri. She's beaming, proud little weyrlingmaster girl that she is. "Lyri, you've been a wonderful leader to the weyrling wing, and I'm proud to present you with the knot of a full rider." With a flourishing grin, she neatly replaces the current knot with a much nicer one. Even if it doesn't have tassles.

Kariel tugs at the bottom of the dress as he tries to find a dragon's shadow to hide himself in, halfway squatting in order to make the skirt longer. He should hold dresses up to him before he puts them on, he's decided. Toes wriggle as he timidly offers a smile to all those staring him… curling up into a smaller type cringing position. Hehe. Ehehe. Eeeeep.

Merra sneaks out from the Weyr, looking like a miniature version of her mate, Ara's sword Amalthia swinging at her side. She waits for a moment to catch Daeyn's gaze, smiling encouragingly at her friend before finding a spot where she can see but is out of the way. R'gis is noted, but Thesy's around to support him, so her convoluted logic has her sticking to Daeyn. She applauds Lyri and sits back, nearly falling over when Kariel is spotted.

"Yay Lyri!" Lis warbles happily for the once-wingleader greenrider. She was there herself, once, and at least her embarassment only consisted of some prominently diplayed boxers.

Lyri can do without tassles in /this/ outfit.. though a little more material may have been a bit more helpfull. The knot exchanged, she gives a quick smile and a barely audible "Thank you." before stepping down to rejoin her slightly glowing lifemate, who has also added her own croon of happiness.

Zai puts her uncomfortable outfit out of mind as Lyri recieves her new knot. "Yay! Lyri! Congrats!" Clapping loudly for a moment, Zai beams at the newest wingrider. But it doesn't last for long, because Zai hurridly has to reach back down to clutch at agian falling pants. Is the pants around the knees look 'in' on Pern?

The underwear look's always in around the weyr… at least in some people's eyes.

"Congrats, Lyri." With another grin, Lylia scans the crowd. "Weyrling wingsecond Daeyn? You're next!"

Pyrene grins at Lyri, peering with interest at the new knot. It represents so much… most pressingly freedom from D'renn's command. Cadgwith's pleased rumble alerts her to Daeyn's call-up and she cheers again. She's good at cheering.

Kariel timidly squats, clapping his hands for Lyri. Then for Daeyn. "Congrats!" Yeah. He then scurries over innocently to Alymath, hiding behind her tail. You don't mind, do you, Aly? Of course not. Don't let anyone see me. Egh.

Daeyn returns the smile somewhat weakly, almost missing the mention of her own name. She draws a deep breath and moves forward, her pace midway between hurried and forcedly casual. Yes, those are contradictions and she does manage both.

Thesy claps her hands for the new wingriders also but her cheers come a bit muffled since the bluerider is watching that tunic that threatens to reveal too much when she moves her hands like this.

R'gis applauds both Lyri and Daeyn as they receive their new knots, both having been outstanding as wingmates and friends. He blinks slightly, surprised by a dampness in his eyes, now why would he be crying?

D'renn is there for Thesy if she needs an extra pair of hands to hold down that neckline of course.


Lylia just keep taptaptapping that foot of hers, dangling the new knot in front of her own face. "You've been a brilliant 'second, Daeyn. And it's the best position, you know." Wink. Brownriders make perfect wingseconds, you know.

Zai decides to leave her hands safely attached to her trousers for the moment, and settles for a hapy cheering. "Daeyn! Woo!" Blue eyes dance as she squirms just a bit more. But not too much, for that might cause the purple trousers to slips even further down her legs.

Merra hears her friend's name called and lets loose with a piercing whistle. "Congrats, Daeyn!" she calls out, grinning broadly. Amazingly, she is the least revealing female in the bowl, next to Daeyn, although unlacing that tunic completely would have it open to her stomach. Short woman, tall mate. You do the calculations.

Kariel continues to applaud… the most revealing person of all, or so it can be taken, in the bowl. NEver again, he vois, never again. He peers over Alymath

Daeyn smiles with more amusement than anything at Lylia. "If nothing else, there's always someone higher to blame when something goes wrong." Ah, the lessons of life. "Thank you," she adds as she accepts the knot. "I'm sure you're delighted to get rid of all of us." Her tone is definitely tongue in cheek. She gives small almost-bow as she moves away.

"Daeyn!" Tatoria raises her voice in another cheer, again echoing the name that others repeat, despite the foreign feel of it. She grins, lips lifting in a small snicker as Daeyn's words drift toward her.

Etain claps loudly, smiling. "Go Daeyn!" She sounds truely happy, which she is. Her friends and other people are graduating from their weyrlinghoood and all. Go them. GO all of them.

Kariel continues to applaud… the most revealing person of all, or so it can be taken, in the bowl. Never again, he vows, never again. He peers over Alymath's tail, refusing to come out under any circumstances. Especially since his dress is itching. And static clinging a bit. Ugggh.

"Good, good." Lylia gives an approving grin, once more peering out at the crowd. "Oh, Pyrrrreeeeeneee." The former nanny is next. Hmph. Lylia waves the knot in the air, tossing it up and catching it casually.

Lis nearly chokes as she sees what Pyrene's wearing. Granted, it's tamer than some… but it's a side of the goldrider she's never seen before. Coughing discreetly, she finds some anonymous, dress-wearing brownrider to make small talk with. Until she gets Lylia back.

Pyrene ohs softly, one hand going up to tap Cadge's chin lightly as she leaves the shade for the stage, trying not to look self-conscious about anything and everything. Brats, former charges, are eyed from this dizzying position and a slow smile creeps over her face. Nevermore… A salute is snapped to Lylia, however mockingly.

"Ooooo! Pyrene forgot to button her shirt!" carols one brat brightly, as the others around him respond with a chorus of 'Ooooh!'s.

Does Thesy smirk at the brat's remark? Nah, not her. She just can't hide her amusement when the former nanny takes the couple of steps Lyliawards.

Rauve steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Sundry lengths of bangs extend in askew tendrils 'cross his slowly paling forehead, rich tawny ends nearly brushing against the rouge-softened and effeminate curves of his cheeks. A braid of coiled, dusky tresses lies 'tween his shoulder blades, the fawn cluster of hair making up the tail nearly touching the small of his back. Newly adorning that ginger-toned tail of hair is a band crafted of woven linen strands carefully braided together. The light band is centered by a disc-held knot of simply carved, moss-green jade: a gift, perhaps. Features are unseasoned, bereft of any tightness or discoloration that might provoke one into considering him older than he is. Despite this appearance of perpetual juvenility, he carries himself with a fluid series of gait and gesture, certainly not a quality that would denounce his age any further. His eyes are, perhaps, the most catching things about him. Twilight pools of murky orchid, mildly misaligned, are set in orbicular sockets, shadowed by a serried cluster of lashes, and shaded further by the ragged shroud of bangs always intruding upon their view. Flesh has not lost its sun-touched dusting of color, but it is slowly being drained by 'Reaches' lack of vibrant sun: a pity really, it was a charming hue. Sumptuously thin body is pliant in aforementioned movement, the beginnings of 'buff' musculature beginning to shape and mold slender limbs and torso.
Slinking indiscreetly along his angular, lank contours are bolts of vivid carmine material, clinging to boyishly slender thighs and flaring out around similarly thin calves. The sleeveless gown's neckline is criss-cross'd with tiny threads of ebony, ending in a circular spiral at the wedge-like point where the black filaments intersect and loop. This curling obsidian pattern continues on down the front of the scarlet dress, calling unwanted attention (?) to his completely level belly, and serpentine hips. Hair is left down, fawn waves spreading over bared shoulders, curling toward the small of his back. Black riding boots are still worn, but nearly hidden beneath the gauzy crimson skirts, which seem to have been made for a taller /woman/. Perched on Rauve's shoulder is Hoshi.
Stark and simple black and cerulean twist together in a mundane knot, portraying the wearer as a resident at High Reaches Weyr.
Rauve is 16 Turns, 7 months, and 3 days old.

The mocking salute is greeted with a weyrlingmaster-worthy leer from Lylia. The rider dangles the knot just above Pyrene's head, beaming innocently. "It was nice to have you as a weyrling, Pyrene, and to see you become one of us riders. And it's even nicer to get you out of my hair now."

Zai dares to release her pants for a moment to clap and cheer loudly for Pyrene. "Pyrene! Yay! Woo-hoo!" Wait, does this make Pyrene a Jr. Weyrwoman? Maybe she shouldn't be cheering quite so loud. Either way, the clapping comes to an end as pants slip agian, and more of her colorful unders are reveiled than necessary. Hands hurry to jerk them back up, and a blush begins to spread over her face.

Pyrene ostentatiously ignores the brat's comment, and if pink spots of colour appear on her cheeks, she still has the nerve to deliberately remove her hands from covering her torso to a saucy position on her hips. "And not a bluerider either," she observes lightly to Lylia. Nothing's perfect. And, quite composed now, at last, she takes the knot.

"Lylia never was good at lying." A pouting greenrider whose lifemate never managed to raise Druseth's interest, hisses the words to her companion, "I just know she can't wait to see the last of this goldrider."

Kariel can't help but peer over Alymath's tail to laugh at Rauve… head tossing back into a cackle. "Rauve!!!" he yells, catching his breath… then cackling again. "Raaaauve! You look like a /giiiirl/…. hoo… oh, Rauvina. want to go out for some wine later on the beach? Whoooo!" Kari's lost it. Again. This is becoming a common occurance.

Merra cheers for Pyrene, noting her outfit, noting how most of the females around here are dressed. Taking a -deep- breath, she tentatively unlaces the tunic until it's open dangerously low. Almost mid-torse, in fact. Let's…just not look at Merra, huh?

Etain claps again. It's her former nanny. They were akk her former nannies, but this is Py. "PY!" She calls out in happiness. Py graduated, go Py. Another graduite. She continues to cheer.

Rauve saunters in, attempting to be discreet, but alas, it was not meant to be. Orchid eyes flicker petulantly, and what was once a quiet rumble of annoyance is now a fairly unmodest stream of obscenities. "Oh, go soak your head Kariel," he mutters darkly.

Chueii steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Alymath wiggles her tail idly, concious of Kariel hiding behind it. Sunlight glints off the gilded pathces as she moves, but surely she's not drawing any attention to that area….

Lylia relieves herself of that silly knot, grinning slightly before winking at her former candidate friend. "G'luck, Pyrene." And she means that, though her gaze travels out to the crowd. She may not be a good liar, but there's some other things she's good at…. "Zai?" Brownriders next.

For the first, but probably not the last, time today Thesy forgets about that irritating neckline, and clapping her hands for Pyrene, D'renn might even enjoy the view. "Congrats, Pyrene!" She calls, hoping the newest weyrwoman will hear her. Weyrwoman! Pyrene! For a moment Thesy looks utterly terrified.

Daeyn applauds more loudly for Pyrene - she's regained her composure - a softly called congratulations easily lost in the din around her. She tugs idly at the knot, a sudden memory returning to her of a discussion of color coordination. She'll pass …

Kariel pokes Alymath's tail as he continues to cackle… "Oh, Rauve! You look so sexy! Hoooo-yeah! You should wear your hair down more often, I've always like a /girl/ with long hair… ooooh yeah…. haaa!" He collapses against Alymath's tail, arms flopping over to the other side, only his upper chest and higher showing… "Heeeee!" Somebody sedate him.

Pyrene takes the knot and flashes a giddy grin at the crowd, seeing many faces, recognising none in the blur. Ducking down the steps she whispers a "We've done it!" to Zai in passing. A return to her place, to her dragon… and a final smile gets sent out. This one a smirk in Thesy's direction as she catches the bluerider's expression.

Zai blinks, peering up at Lylia. She did hear her name, right? A gulp and she makes her way forward. One hand attached to her pants at all times she arrives in front of Lylia. A tenitive smile, and a reassuring glance back toward her Puizuth, and she's ready. Fidigiting slightly, she waits. Oh boy.

Sugar comes in from ::between::, swooping around in small circles.

R'gis applauds the newest goldrider, so glad that she'll not be chasing when Peorth rises. Not that he doesn't like Py, it's just…..wierd. He shifts from one foot to the other, tugging slightly at the skirt as nervousness mounts and the boots that are a bit too small for him begin to pinch.

D'renn winces right along with Thesy at the thought. At least she's out of his hair though now… Be grateful for small mercies and all that. Attention returns to the others and applause goes to Zai.

Lyri gives a rather glowering look of congratulations to the others and then eyes the lauging Kariel. "So mature." She notes in a disgusted tone before moving away from the main crowd with Niamhyth, muttering all the while.

"Zai…" Lylia gives a light smile, just shaking her head. "It's been a wonderful thing to have you up here. You were born to be a brownrider, dear." And Pui's a pretty darned cute one for a brownrider to be attached to. Without a further word, she slips the knot into her hand, pinning the new one to Zai. "Congratulations."

Rauve wrinkles his nose eloquently, hips absently swiveling into a rather.. saucy? angle. "I appreciate that, Kariel," he growls softly, wiry forearms crossed over his stomach. He comforts himself in eyeing R'gis, who is also skirt clad. Kariel is again eyed, though he offers a belated smile toward Pyrene.

Lyri clambers up Niamhyth's neck and settles in between two neckridges.

Lis calls out the usual 'Congratulations (insert weyrling name here)' with exuberant clapping. And, unlike some others, the outfit she's wearing allows her to clap without the fear of indecent exposure.

Pyrene's smirk gets returned just as it was given. Somewhere deep down, and she's not going to admit it easily, Thesy's rather proud of the ex-nanny, after all they have been friends. Kinda.

Puizuth puffs himself up, /his/ Zai is getting promoted, see? And he happens to agree about the cuteness thing. Zai smiles agian, and admires the knot for a moment. "Thank you," She whispers softly, before making her way back to the comforting presence of her dragon.

Her part over, Pyrene settles into enjoying the day and the outfits, applauding her friends eagerly (her outfit remains decently in place at all times, no matter it's cut. 8 turns as a nanny leaves you with the oddest skills). Rauve's outfit gets it's own applause as does Kariel's. And Thesy's friendship of sorts is remembered. After all, it was Thesy's idea that she Stand again.

"Next….." Lylia peers out in the crowd, pinning knots on B'east, J'ck, and F'ish in succession, F'ish getting a rather odd glance. "Now…. R'gis?"

Rauve applauds Zai and Puizuth quietly, lopsided grin broadening slightly, but it does have a rather… maniacal tinge to it. A hand is idly flipped through his hair, another wiggle to coerce the gown to.. fit.. looser? Or not.

R'gis catches Rauves gaze resting on him and smiles slightly as he hears his name. He glides easily to the stage, hips swinging seductively as is natural for the greenrider. Though who it's for… may never know.

"That's great! Work that groove thang, Rauve! Woooo yeah! Hahahaaaa!" Kariel just gloats, lightly beating on Alymath's tail for accentuation. Not hard enough to be of too much bother, mind you. "Hee heeeee! Shake it, Rauve! Again! Hahaha!"

Pyrene lets out a whoop for R'gis. A not-proddy greenrider at least. Unlike certain others… Morie and Peia get glances as well as Lyri.

Alymath lets out a snort at the giggling boy behind her, giving her hide a ripple under Kariel's thumping, equine-like. Twitch. Lis, meanwhile, finally gives Rauve a look. And a look. And still more look.

Thesy chuckles and shakes her head slightly. R'gis just can't resist, now can he? Still, there is more than just a little pride in her smile as she watches him coming up on the stage, silently envying him that sway of hips.

Kariel winks up at Alymath, still giggling as he pets her hide. Hehehe. "Isn't Rauve just so desirable, Alymath? I mean, look at that stance! That hair! That…" And he loses it. Again. As if he ever had it back… "Haaaaa!"

Rauve sighs quietly, -nearly- missing R'gis's splendid little hip-swing. Shells. Clapping is slightly lethargic, jaw dropped 'til it almost meets his diving neckline. At least doesn't have any chest hair. Or maybe that's -not- a good thing. Ah-heh. Lis's stare is dismissed, cheeks nearly neon in their ever-blossoming… pinkness.

Zai, finished admiring her new knot, glances back towards her fellow Weyrlings. And former weyrlings. "Whoo! R'gis!" Having given up on clapping for good, Zai settles for slapping one hand agianst her leg. Although the sound is mostly muffled by the yards of purple material that are serving as trousers.

Daeyn edges away from Kariel. Not that she's particularly close in the first place, but one can definitely never be too careful. She applauds for R'gis, perhaps hinting at a smile … they're rare in crowds this size, after all. "Well, if he'd forgotten his name, he's in luck now," she murmurs to no one in particular.

Merra looks up in time to see R'gis get his knot, and lets off another whistle. "Yay, R'gis!" she calls, clapping. Which shifts the tunic. Which reveals a good (or bad) portion of her chest. Le sigh.

"R'giiiiis." Lylia lets out a throaty little call, swinging the knot around as she smirks. But the smirk quickly melts into a soft smile as she extends her hand towards him. "It's been lovely, R'gis. You've been a good greenrider to have. Much more sane than the others."

Etain claps some more and cheers for the newest graduite. "R'GIS! COngrats!' She smiles and continues to cheer. Sane? A green rider? If that possible? She hears bits of Ly's words.

Kelitath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Mhari slides from Kelitath's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Crinkly masses of blonde hair are pulled back into a rough knot at the base of Mhari's neck, an elegant, long fingered hand habitually going up to brush away an errant curl. Her skin is tanned, and freckles are liberally scattered across a slightly snub nose. Two splashes of bright blue are her eyes, cheerfully inspecting all around her with interest. Her figure is lithe and slender, and perhaps starting to develop, although if she notices, she doesn't admit it.
Crimson wherhide encompasses Mhari in sleek brilliance, a close-fitting jacket of eye-catching fire. Soft fleece in contrasting cream peeks out from the high collar, the lining made especially warm for High Reaches' winters and the long colder void of ::between::. Orange and gold flames lick up the long sleeves in tasteful embroidery: neither too flamboyant nor overly subtle, they match the flames which flicker over the Inferno Wing badge as well as the embroidered emblem on jacket's back, an exact replica of the wing's chevron shaped insignia which rides high and proud on one crimson shoulder. Fitted black wherhide trous tuck neatly into knee high fleece lined black boots, completing the outfit. Perched on Mhari's shoulder is Chewy.
Mhari is 21 Turns, 11 months, and 14 days old.

No, Rage certainly couldn't resist. The greenrider returns the soft smile and reaches out for the knot, catching the brownrider's hand along with it. Reminiscent of his bronzen mate he bows over Lylia's hand and kisses the back of her fingers lightly. "It's been a pleasure, Lylia……" he purrs, no he's not proddy believe it or not. "Perhaps you'll have me again when Peorth rises?" He just can't help getting in a little dig of innuendo, maybe his little princess -is- starting to luminesce a little.

D'renn just looks at Lylia after her comment about greenriders and refrains from adding his own. Lis is present after all.

Pyrene chokes first at Lylia's greenriding comment then at R'gis' rejoinder. Thesy gets another glance and she mouths 'watch him' to the bluerider. Then another catcall - this one aimed at Lis. She can't /really/ resist that.

Lis' brows raise in appreciation of R'gis' style. Too bad he rides green… "Yeah, Lylia!" she catcalls appropriately up at the assistant weyrling master MC, having missed her comment about greenrider's. "Same to you!" is whipped back at Pyrene.

Oooooooh. Yes, Lylia /likes/ this one. With an innocent little smile crowning her face, she just flutters her lashes. "Perhaps." Eeheehee. Yep, very much. But the next knot calls… "Morie!" Ooh. This is fun.

Not if Sardrinth has a say in this. Thesy grins, giving Pyrene a wink. The blue has quite a reputation himself, no? Although she also is a little surprised, now that's a new facet of R'gis and she can't say that she doesn't like, even if Lylia's the one who gets the treat.

Gavin steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Morie flashes a smug look to Peia. She got called /first/. It means she's better. Tight men's clothes and all, she flounces up onto the stage and poses as if she's got a figure worth posing. Which she hasn't, but give the child a bit longer.

R'gis makes his way down from the dias and slips easily thru the crowd to his bluerider love's side. As he reaches her side he rests his hands on her shoulders as he stands behind her, leaning down to brush his lips over her cheek. "Well…..that's over, dearest….Just a little while longer." he murmurs.

D'renn is unbiased in his leerings and is happy to eye up R'gis too. Don't forget Trydanth's prowess in the air either.

Tatoria is still here, standing next to Etain, applauding at appropriate spots and adding her voice to the cheers of others, all the while sporting a grin. *Never left ICly. ;)*

Kariel clambors his way up onto Alymath's tail, finding it quite a comfy perch as he swings his feet, watching the proceedings. But he doesn't consider he's in a dress as he sits rather…. un ladylike?… giving everyone a rather good… or rather bad… flash. Oh, smoothness. And he doesn't even notice…

Rauve toys with a loose wave of fawn contemplatively, a small - swoony? - smile thinly curving his mouth. Yes indeed, he would pass for a girl at the moment, what with the rosy cheeks and swaying hips and… well, adrogynous facial features. So sue him. "Kariel, you should cross - and shave - your legs," he comments drolly, glancing up toward the healer. "Nice jumper. Is it Siannen's?" Giggle. Gah. He /giggled/.

Leaning, for the moment, against her blue's side, Celeste fidgets with her now-short hair. Shorn to less than an inch, the limpid straw-colored locks look half-masculine in cut. Her outfit - leathers with what looks like a sock stuffed in them, and a slightly less-than-usually-noticeable bust, makes her figure a little more masculine. Mostly, though, she just looks uncomfortable in the attire, as she waits for her name to be called.

"Morie…." Lylia starts something, but then stops and shakes her head with a sigh, extending the knot. "Here." It gets her out of Ly's hair, at least. "Peia?" The next of the brat patrol.

Peia straightens her shoulders and looks loftily down her nose at Morie, taking her time to stride up onto the stage, treating it as her catwalk as she also displays her burgeoning curves. All the while, eyes scan for M'rin but are destined to be disappointed. Not very disappointed though, judging by the way they linger over some of the men.

Thesy tilts her head back, resting it against his chest, and she grins up at R'gis, "Congrats, pet. But there's still the party?" Now her hand goes up to her hair, the hair band not meant to tame short curls, hopelessly sliding down. So much for a coiffure.

Nothin' like men in drag, eh? Lylia holds out the newest knot, grinning lightly. "Here you go, Peia. I'm sure M'rin will be impressed…." With a sly wink, she flips the knot towards Peia with a flick of the wrist. "Congrats to you and Morie… And now… Celeste!" Fun.

Lis' attention is torn by the center ring of this circus - where Lylia's giving out knots - and the interaction between Kariel and Rauve. Luckily, though, she's got Alymath to be her eyes, the green peering down at the two boys - who look much like girls towards a rather confused dragon.

Loren steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Petite and child-like, Loren stands, and most likely will remain to stand, a diminuative five foot two and a half. Soft, thick golden-brown hair, streaked with a darker brown in some spots, hangs in smooth, shimmering waves down to just below her shoulders, blending pleasantly with her heart-shaped, lightly tanned face. Childish countenance is oft lit up with a shy, but still cheerful smile, bottom, rosy-pink lip tugged in a bit to be nibbled on. Crystalline amythest eyes peer out at everything with shy curiosity over a small, pointed, and slightly upturned nose and a light sprinkling of freckles, and a prominant chin carries its own little layer of baby fat 'neath, belying Loren's sixteen Turns. Muscled arm are often kept behind her back, and long, slender fingers are usually kept hidden deep in pockets when not reaching for cookies. Kind-of chubby legs, well-proportioned to her small frame, are well-muscled, testimate to two Turns of running for Tillek Hold.
Black replaces usual purple garb for the evening, ebony colors manifesting themselves in riding leathers that are.. a size or two to large for the runner's petite form. Sleeves are shoved up to the elbows, cuffs flipped upwards to reveal an off-white underside that matches a small patch of color peeking from the tunic's stiff collar. Shirt's hem is invisible, tucked into the waist of trousers pulled tightly against Loren's form with a thin, ebony belt. Pants poof, for some reason, at the hips, and would, most likely, engulf runner's legs in a bundle of fabric were it not for the knee-high riding boots pulled over them. Poor Loren. What she does for the sake of.. stuff. Who knows.
A single loop, double-corded with threads of ebon and navy, graces this girl's shoulder, tassle and tail signifying her to be a runner for the Weyr of High Reaches.
Loren is 17 Turns, 2 months, and 7 days old.

Gr'tel is hiding as best he can 'neath Hanselth. His normally mussed-up, longish locks have been tamed, makeup applied to his face, and his short, skinny body has been clad in… a dress. Poor boy; it looks like the girls had a good time with him. So he hides, and eats his latest munchie, and hides some more. He can survive.

Peia preens her little brat-rider self as she struts back down off the stage to start giggling with Morie - jealous rivalry forgotten.

Pyrene applauds rather dryly for her ex-brats, but cheers with more sincerity for Celeste. She owes her after all… Celeste took a blue for her.

Zai watches quietly for a while, brown tail wrapped posessively around her ankles. As Loren enters, she shoots a smile and a small wave toward her before her attention turns back to her pants, which are slowly being dragged down by the well intentioned dragon tail. Belt is once agian tightened, for all the good it does, and then she's back to watching the action.

Celeste perks up at the mention of her name, and straightens up, walking up to the platform with more than her old shyness, and a share of self-confidence. And besides that, she looks positively exuberant as she bounces - yes, bounces - up to Lylia to get her knot, shooting a proud grin to a small, grubby-looking boy in the crowd.

"Here you go, dear." Lylia gives a warm grin, fastening the new knot to Celeste's arm. "You're such a lovely girl, I do wish you could be in Tsunami with me…. Best of luck to you." With a gentle wink, her glance barely flickers over to the crowd before she calls the next. "Gr'tel!"

Kariel looks down at himself at Rauve's commenting, and chokes up… legs quickly flying together as a cerise flush creeps up his neck to his cheek and ears. "Umm… yeah." And legs are crossed rather awkwardly, he tottering atop the green's tail uneasily. How do girls /do/ this, exactly?

Celeste bounces down, waving again to the tot, before grinning at Gr'tel. She thought /she/ was discomfited…

Merra walks to the Caverns.
Tai walks in.

What was once white was bronze and is white again; skin's been sun-starved and has therefore gone pale, alabaster creaminess claiming skin save around ears and cheeks, where reddish bronzes still lurk. Yet, she's managed to hold onto a memento of Istan sunshine; those red highlights have remained. Crismon'd, strawberry'd tones sweep forth, claiming wispy tendrils that have been trimmed, tamed, now curling delicately o'er tops of shoulders, barely sweeping the tops of 'blades. Work-roughened hands still hold mysterious, dark aristocracy, as do slender arms, muscled legs. Womanly curves have become all the more evident, especially as style-of-dress alters. Eyes gaze - azure, sapphire pools of sight, clear and laced with a silv'ry lining.
Tai is wearing… well. The same black leathers as always… but her hair has been tied back and tucked under a small dark cap, and a thin black mustache has been charcoal'd on. No questions. Okay?
A double cord of black'n blue - obsidian'n midnight - loops twice in a brand new knot that's complete with a long tail and two tassles. A slender ribbon of earthy green weaves through, reminiscent of the color of Tai's lifemate Yshanth, and it's all brought together by the Tsunami patch and a wispy gold thread - Tai is Wingleader of the Tsunami Wing at High Reaches Weyr.
Tai is 24 Turns, 3 months, and 20 days old.

Tatoria shifts, her feet managing a slight rearranging dance without stirring her skirt /too/ much - yes, this is one girl who's still dressed as such. She leans toward Etain slightly, hissing a whispered comment in her direction. "And here I thought graduations were supposed to look /dignified/." The comment is followed by a soft giggle and a bit more rearranging. Interested or not, this StarCraft apprentice is never happy about waiting.. particularly when it requires /standing/.

Loren shuffles quietly in, settling herself into a spot.. somewhere… where she can see. Zai gets a cheerful beam, as well as the others the runner knows. Yay. She gets to watch something. Even if she doesn't quite remember what's supposed to be going on.

Tai makes her way in from another area of the bowl, grinning sheepishly as she slips in among a throng of people. She cranes her neck, spying those weyrlings she knows and arching her eyebrows. Ooooh.

Etain tries to hold back a snicker but fails. 'You can say that again' she whispers back. Oh my, oh my, everyone looks sillyish, especially the graduates…and Rauve. Her eyes dart around and she sees another person graduating into the life known as riderness. She claps momentarly.

Rauve smiles cheerfully at the healer, spry hips shifting in the other direction. A glance is aimed toward Tatoria, a bit miffed. He looks quite dignified. Well. He would if he were a girl. Sniffing, he offers Loren a buoyant little wave, and belated turns to applaud the 'riders.

Chueii glides to the Caverns.

Most girls don't wear skintight jumpers, unlike Kariel. Lis, however, is just snicking politely at the boy's misfortune, informed of all by her lifemate-spy. "Go Celeste!" is cheered for the bluerider - heck, even Pyrene likes her. The sock in the pants deal? Well…

Thesy dutifully cheers for the rest of the weyrlings, her interest fading rapidly now that all her friends have been made riders. There are so many more interesting things to do. Peeling that dress off a certain greenrider for example. Ahem.

Tatoria scans the crowd with a small smirk, finding the clothing of those attending an adequete distraction for her short attention span while she waits until she can actually /talk/ to the friends she hasn't seen in months. The corner of her eyes catches Rauve's glance… and her smirk spreads as she smooths at her skirts, subtly - or subtly for /her/, at least - adjusting her outfit, which she is /sure/ looks better on her than Rauve's does on him. She does have /some/ curves, after all. "Maybe we should teach them /how/ to wear dresses.." she suggests to Etain in another whisper, given as she leans toward her friend. "At least the girls don't look silly when they try to walk and sit."

Tai reaches up a hand and straightens the grandpa-esque cap on her head, grinning faintly at the slew of new riders. Stupid trends. This thing doesn't really fit.

Asher stares at the new graduates, while inching his way to an isolated corner. He keeps his face straight, as usual, but is laughing internally at the guys in the crowd. Asher squints to see, but can't, so he sits and tries to listen.

Gr'tel makes his way up, munching on a handful of cookies and leaving a trail of crumbs behind him. Oh dear. At least he'll be able to find his way back. Flashing a grin at Celeste, he dutifully stands. Lylia just eyes him, shaking her head as she pins the knot on him, and then he's heading back into the crowd. Lylia just stares, before getting on to the next. Auri, Fye, Shawn, M'rice, and the others all go up and receive their knots in turn. And after the blond fuzzball of Auriness went up there, Lylia might never be the same. Shudder. But with a final pin, Lylia gives a broad smile, eyeing the newest ones. "Thank you, everyone. Now, this last clutch of Tiareth's has graduated. Everyone give a round of applause for our new riders! And for our weyrlingmaster, D'renn." Gotta mention him. "And there's refreshments in the caverns!" Lylia will go pass out now.

Pyrene spots Tai and hisses in the greenrider's direction: "Least you could have done was shave!" A finger brushes her upper lip in explanation and she winks. Applause is given obediently, possibly more for the drinks than D'renn.

Etain nods in agreement with Tatty. "They just aren't made for it. I do think Kaz would look good in a frilly pink one, wouldn't you?' Tato, the president of Kaz Haters' Anomyous [KHA], out to be able to do /something/ abou tthat.

Zai aims a wave in Tai's direction, with a smile to match. Mistake. She shoulda used the /other/ hand. Like, the one not busy holding up her pants. But too late now, Zai agian gives the crowd a nice view of her boxers. Ah well, as long as they're down there she may as well clap for herself. A quick applause and a little cheer, and then her trousers are yanked back up agian.

Kariel slides off Alymath's tail, skirt riding up to his upper thighs as he does… Kari dutifully trying to tug it down. Eghhh. The back does ride up, however, causing a bit of discomfort as he shifts his skirt back down to its rightful place. How do girls ever do this? He scuttles over to a familiar face for protection… choosing Lis, of all people, to scramble too. Ohhh, heeeelp, Lis. His feet hurt and his rear hurts and he can't cross his legs and keep his balance at the same time. Meeeep.

Tai applauds, grinning widely, and then laughing a little at Pyrene's joke. "You don't like it? It's my new look. I think it suits me. Hi, Zai!" the greenrider calls, one eyebrow arched with too much amusement as the crowd gets flashed.

So, perhaps, will Daeyn, the brownrider vanishing to Anwyllth's side. With the length of the shadows and the brown's size, she more or less vanishes from view. Granted, anyone who comes near gets a greeting from what seems to be a disembodied voice, but one could accuse her of hiding out.

D'renn in D'rag squirms at the applause. Great. The whole idea of Lylia doing the presentation was to take attention away from him. Of course, the lime green taffeta that persists in riding up his thighs doesn't help. He stands, tugs down the skirt /again/, and wanders off towards the Living caverns. D'runkenness will probably help.

Tatoria starts at the announcement, strangely enough giving Etain's comment only a short giggle and a nod, along with a whispered "He sleeps too heavily for his own good…" Her hands rise, applauding heavily now both in anticipation of parties and friends… and perhaps dancing? The apprentice can hope. "Congratulations!" she calls, voice having little trouble carrying above the noise.

Rauve sends Tatoria what is surely not a pleasant smile, rather a wicked grin. And that definitely /not/ a kosher swing of his carmine-swathed hips. He does not appear to be in any need of help. Well. He applauds respectfully enough, smile growing and fading alternatively.

"Oh, Kariel…" Lis greets the boy as if she'd just run into him in the bowl. "Um, nice outfit." It's the best compliment she can think of at the moment, not sure exactly what to say regarding him wearing Siannen's clothes. Or at least, that's what she's /heard/.

Etain begins clapping and cheering again for the next new rider. "Wooo-whooo!' She calls out for the fun, okay so someone had a little /too/ much 'juice' earlier. "Defenitly" she turns to Tat and smiles. Oh the plans.

Tatoria's ever-roving gaze does, of course, catch that swing of the hips, and her nose inches upward as she rolls her eyes in Rauve's general direction. Her head tilts toward Etain with a secretive smile. "And I rather think he'd be a better pupil in the ways of walking and such than some of /these/." Is that a pointed glance toward Rauve? Was her voice pitched louder no that the ceremony's over? Couldn't be.1

Pyrene laughs at Zai and Tai and D'renn too. My the world looks good all of a sudden… sweet freedom. Cadgwith is more composed about it all, radiant and content in the sun and the company of the Weyr's other dragons. "Let's go get drunk then!" the newest weyrwoman calls. Let's start being a role model, shall we?

"It's horrid. I tried it on and couldn't get it off. So I was stuck with it." Kari lets out a dismal little sigh, running hands down along the dress. "I should have just worn the black and pink leathers." Problem is, he actually /liked/ thouse…

Lucas walks in.

Etain nods in agreement with Tatoria. Drink, that perks her up. "Drink is good!" Okay, so she's also hyper at the moment, who's fault is that? Not her's/

Zai blushes a bit at the look she gets from Tai, glancing down to glare at defective belt. Mabye she should have just shelled out the marks for a real one. But then, that would have been to easy. 'Sides, at least there is some entertainment value in her attire. "Hrm, a drink /does/ sound nice." Nevermind that the brownrider's never had a drop of anything exciting in her life. But now's a good a time as any to start!

Rauve has no hang-ups in the subject of movement, any longer. Saccharine smile remains focused toward Tatoria, leck cocked at an impatient angle. A drink? Where? Not that he /needs/ any more. Took him enough to get him -in- the dress. Let's up it doesn't take as much to get him -out-.

NOTE: D'renn @emitted by Pyrene.

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