Cleaning the Galleries

November 22nd 2004
Logged by Pyrene

Row upon row of stone benching rises above the Hatching Grounds, seats for those who come to watch the incredible experience that is a hatching. Each individual seat is embellished with a worn cushion, the only concession to comfort in a place that traps heat, holding it within so that those who watch are inflicted with its intensity, though on a milder level than those who must stand and face the dragonets. The expanse of sand that is the hatching grounds spreads out in front of the benches, a huge stage for a spectacular show.
Donis, Rysta, and Sylara are here.
B'au is on the gallery ledges.
Desba is on the sands.

Sylara glances up at B'au. "I don't understand you." She admits, but then again, that's a common failing with her, and riders from Ista. "What are you talking about?"

Donis is cleaning the benches. So's Rysta.

From the sands, Desba raises and eyebrow at B'au, "Is there any male alive that you don't think is good looking?" Desba scuffs as she leans on the railing from the sands side? "I never though slinking was considered 'attractive'," But come to think of it….Desba shakes her head roughly and glares at B'au, "You're sick!"

Pyrene doesn't slink in, it should be noted. She strides up the stairs with great forthrightness of attitude. "Hello, hello," she greets High Reaches folk expansively. "Duties to Ista," she murmurs with a little more reserve to B'au.

Donis looks vaguely ill, as if physically unable to contemplate the idea of /anyone/ being attracted to Marond. He scrubs away diligently with just a nod of polite, fairly deferential greeting for Pyrene.

From the sands, Tiareth stirs from the nap she was having, her calm, blue eyes slowly swirling as they open. The gold gets up and stretches a bit and shakes her head for any sand that may have gotten on her while she slept before looking around to make sure her clutch is alright, and finding where her mate was at the time.

Rysta has been keeping herself busy with the cleaning, her attention mostly on her work this whole time. She glances around at all the others who have made their appearances recently and suddenly realizes that there are a few more people here then before. Still, she concentrates on the cleaning for now, letting the conversation happen around her.

From the sands, Pyrene is given a starched salute from Desba, "Greetings Weyrwoman, I hope you and yours are well." But her face turns to the same disgusted look as Donis, they may be friends but she can't imagine anyone finding Marond actractive, in the least.

On the gallery ledges, B'au is rather outnumbered, isn't he? Ah well, he's still going to remain strong for his One True Love! "He's…. all… evil and stuff…" and it seems to make B'au's knees turn to goo.

"Why all the sour faces?" Pyrene asks, eyebrows raised as she realises she's missed something. "Michel's not rationing food again, is he?" At B'au's words, she winces. "I don't want to hear what X'ian's done now."

From the sands, Desba grunts, "B'au seems to find Marond extremely sexy and won't stop telling us about it." The brown rider shakes her head and turns to Pyrene for help, "I mean, I'm friends with the man, but he's…not pleasant to look at."

"B'au finds Marond attractive," Donis confirms Desba's words with a rather strange expression. "And X'ian's done nothing as far as I know, except let Morchainth catch Isamath…"

Rysta looks around again as Pyrene, B'au, Desba and Donis all speak. For a few moments, she takes a break from her cleaning and listens instead.

"Marond's not evil," Pyrene catches up and immediately disagrees with the topic at hand. "Nor is he attractive, although you /could/ do a lot worse. I'd not say he was great company, however I can't give you any opinion of him in bed. Has B'au approached Marond about this?" She sits down on a clean (but dry) seat, smiling blithely at the candidates who worked to make it thus.

On the gallery ledges, B'au beams at Pyrene. Someone who understands! At least, more than anyone else. "I haven't told him yet, no. I'm going to,though! At the oppertune moment…" When Marond won't come after him with something sharp.

"Cushion, Weyrwoman?" Donis offers with a rather snide grin. "And whether Marond is evil or not is rather subjective, I think," he adds blithely, wiping away at another seat.

Sylara glances around, too, not sure about the topic of discussion. "Ah, ehm…." She repeats her question to Desba. "Desba, do you need anything? I could send someone to bring you some water, or some juice or…" The riders on the sands need taken care of too. "Hello, Pyrene." She nods, respectfully, trying as best she can to ignore the talk around her.

From the sands, Desba laughs, "I think he's good company, but I wouldn't want to know what he's like in bed. Ever." She gives Pyrene a smile, and nods, "But he is most assuredly not evil." And she would know spending a good amount of time with the man. B'au is given a raised eyebrow, she seems perturbed by the notion the blue rider is going to chase after Marond, but why she can't put her finger on. "It's not subjective. Things that are subjective are whether things taste good or not, or whether someone is good looking, evil and good are not, there's just a lot more gray area." Desba turns to Sylara and grins, "Water would be wonderful thank you."

"Few people are truly evil." Pyrene affects a worldly-wise tone, ignoring the offer of a cushion. "The important thing about Marond is that he's actually very capable - he's a doer. And that's why he's headman. What do you think of him, Sylara?" She fixes the girl with an eagle eye. He's her boss after all.

From the sands, Dyamith turns as his mate awake and croons a good morning too her, and a reassurance that the eggs are fine. His short tail wraps lightly around her tip of her's.

From the sands, Tiareth is quite satisfied that everything is going alright with her clutch and so looks over at the humans that are talking while apparently viewing her lovely children. Leaving her mate alone, though having a tail trail around one of the brown's legs, she goes over and lightly nudges Desba in the back, if the brownrider stays still long enough for it to occur. She also giving a slight whuffle at the same time before looking up at those in the gallery.

Donis lets the subject drop from his point of view - he has to, else words would be said that might result in the removal of his white knot. He just picks up and examines some cushions, tossing the threadbare ones into a heap.

From the sands, Desba smiles at Donis and shrugs, "Look, so we differ on this point? Is it that big a deal that you aren't going to be my friend anymore?" Which is how she interperts the boys aggistation. "Come on Donis, lets just agree to disagree on this one." Look she's even, compromising the great and evil Desba.

Sylara is headed down to get the brownrider a drink of water, but at the weyrwoman's words, she stops, and turns around. "Oh, he's a good man to work for, but I don't find him attractive in that way…" She pauses. "I suppose someone /could/." If they really tried hard. She thinks for a moment, "I don't think he's /evil/, though. Although I don't know him very well. He gives us lists of things to do, and disappears." Presumably to do his own list of things.

Donis has to smile at Desba's words, and he dangles a cushion over the rail as he speaks to her. "Of course we can differ on this, Desba. Marond's your friend, and I can't stand the man for what to me are very good reasons, and we won't talk about him again?" See? This is Donis shutting up. Sort of. "At least we agree that he isn't attractive, anyway."

Pyrene shrugs. "Exactly. It's what a headman does. I don't think evil enters into it. Attractiveness, well, there's no accounting for taste." Particularly not when it comes to blueriders. "And I don't mind if he isn't everybody's best friend - I'd be more worried if he was. You can't trust somebody who everybody likes. If you're in a position of authority, you /have/ to make unpopular decisions."

From the sands, Desba nods, "No more talking about him, unless we /have/ too." Which she can't see happening, but no reason to make promises one can't keep. "Well that's one thing we've got." Not to mention a respect, at least from her side, but to honour her newly made pact with Donis she changes the subject, "What are the chances of Isamath clutching before Tiareth's hatch Py?"

Rysta seems to think that at this point being quiet is the best way to go and she does remain that way. Her hands continue with their work, albeit rather absently.

On the gallery ledges, B'au has disconnected.

Pyrene is caught off guard by the topic change and makes vague gestures with her hands before her brain clicks into gear. "Ahhh… nil. Unless Reth's decide to overcook themselves. However, Cadge keeps telling me she'll go up this year, and as there's not much of the year left, I'm expecting /we'll/ be on the Sands with Isamath and Ashli. And X'ian and Morchainth. So… do they snore?" She sends the quiet Rysta a grin and adds to her in an aside: "Clutchmates always know these things."

"Goldriders always snore," Donis comments rather baldly, and tosses a few more cushions onto his growing pile. Astute observers might notice him looking up the gallery levels as if judging whether jumping from them onto the pile of cushions would be feasible.

From the sands, Desba grins, "Ashli does, I don't remember X'ian ever sleeping while we were in the barracks so I don't know." She gives the weyrwoman a sympathetic smile, "Duty is duty though, eh?" A vague statement to be sure. Raises an eyebrow at Donis as he appraises the pillow situation, but for the moment says nothing, she is after all not the highest rank here.

Rysta catches Pyrene's aside and offers her a bit of a grin. "They do?" She questions it mostly. Of all those here, she's the only one not originally from the weyr. Catching sight of Donis' look to the pillows and the gallery levels, she raises an eyebrow and doesn't want to debate the odds of that.

Sylara throws her thirtysecond mark in to the conversation. "I don't think X'ian makes any more noise than he has to." She comments, wryly, stepping out quickly to grab Desba some water. Moments later, she returns with a pitcher and a glass. The pitcher does have a lid on it to prevent the sand from blowing in. "Here you go, Desba." She holds them out to her.

From the sands, Desba nods a thank you to Sylara and retreats farther on to the sands, replacing the old empty pitcher with the new one and bringing the empty one back. "Thank Sy." Is said almost happily and a grin at the gold dragon, "Look who's up!"

Pyrene grins at Rysta. "Well, you know which of the other candidates snore by now, right? If you end up in the weyrling barracks, you'll learn which of the new dragons snore…." She grimaces. "I often thought it was the reason they tired us out. So that we would be able to sleep through the noise."

"I'd better go and get some people to help me carry these cushions to the seamstresses," Donis decides, rather wistful as he looks again from the seats to the large pile. And with polite little nods to those important to warrant them (i.e. everyone), he heads out.
Donis goes out.

Rysta nods and looks to Pyrene again, chuckling. "I see. Yeah, I guess you have a point there." She waves to Donis as he moves out of the galleries, then turns back to the others. "So, dragons snore too? Wow…I didn't know that."

From the sands, Dyamith rumbles at Pyrene, "He says he doesn't snore at all, but just to set the record straight he does. Loudly." She grins at the gold, "Just ask Tiareth, she'd be happy to tell you I'm sure."

"Dragons snore?" Sylara asks. "I didn't know that." She decides to go ahead and sit down for a bit. "I suppose it won't matter in the grand scheme of things if I sit down for a moment and rest."

Rysta laughs and nods to Pyrene. "I'll keep that in mind. If I'm not back at the healer hall and all." She doesn't seem to think she'll be here beyond the hatching. Looking around, she realizes that those left are all girls and she settles into a seat and murmurs, "So…are all flights like…well…like yesterday's?" There's a faint pink on her cheeks as she asks.

Pyrene nods. "Cadge snores on occasion - that's a noise, I can tell you. But the hiccups are worse, I think. Or when they have," she pauses, for delicacy's sake and lowers her voice: "Wind."
Pyrene adds to Rysta's: "Greenflights tend to be a little quieter mentally, but goldflights are frequently noisy. Not being around for Isa's I can't say how she was - what did you think, Des?"

From the sands, Desba blinks, "Wind?" But then the conversation moves on, "Oh I don't know, I was too busy keeping Dyamith preoccupied. But the males do seem to be more vocal during gold flights, I guess theres more at stake, though I can't say why, rightly."

Rysta nods a bit and looks at the many pillows. "Well, I see. I think. It was …very confusing and …" She shrugs a bit and summons a bit of a smile. "I think I'm rather glad my firelizard came and grabbed me from the caverns."

Sylara just listens to the conversation, not believing they're discussing the bodily functions of dragons. However, she does have a comment on the flight recently. "It was really noisy." She says. "Of course, that lout G'dal was here again, and his Fanneth is one of the noisiest bronzes I've ever seen." She says frowning. "I wish they'd send someone else over…" She pauses. Maybe she could ask next time she was there. If she goes again.

Dragons have bodies, and thus they have bodily functions. Pyrene sees no point in not demystifying them in front of a prospective candidate - Sylara obviously missed out on this last time! "Oh, you'll learn to enjoy it when you're not on enforced celibacy restrictions," she assures Rysta. "It's a good excuse to celebrate what the human body is capable of." She winks. "But at least you're warned for whenever Cadge goes up, assuming you're still here then."

From the sands, Desba returns from getting herself a glass of water, "How is Marond treating you, Sylara, well I hope, otherwise I'll have to have a stern talking to with him." She grins returning to her conversation with Sylara now that Donis is gone. She turns to Pyrene and answers with a grunt. The only time she ever gets involved in human body capabilities is when Dyamith catches, or in Sylara's case, doesn't.

Rysta nods slowly and this time blushes fully. "Right," she murmurs. She is glad when Desba returns and talks to Sylara. "So…golds rise often then?" There's a bit of confusion at that then she realizes that the name of the dragon is different then either dragon currently on the sands. "Wait…how many golds are there here?"

Sylara shrugs, looking on to the sands to see Desba. "Oh, he treats me pretty well. I have no complaints." And really she doesn't. She enjoys working with him. "I like this job." She says, smiling.

From the sands, Desba grins and nods, "Once you get past his rough exterior, and understand him, he's easy to get along with." She crosses her arms leaning against the railing, "He shows his affection differently than most people." He did after all stand up for her, somewhat, against X'ian and for that she has to give him props.

"Six currently. Tiareth, then Ysbryth - Areiah's Ashli's mother you know. She and Nuff were my predecessors. Nuff was Sr Weyrwoman when I first came to Reaches, and Areiah succeeded her a few turns later - she was /very/ young at the time. Chayath and Cadge come next, then Vaeli Impressed Nissionath and our youngest gold is Isamath. It was her maiden flight." Pyrene finishes totting up. There'll be a test later.

Rysta nods slowly and counts them off in her head. "Six. Wow." She coughs just a little. For a moment, she seems to be trying to memorize the various dragons and their riders and she is silent as she does so. "So, you said that the greens were less noisy?" Despite everything, curiosity is getting the better of her and she's never had as much of an opportunity to learn about dragons as while she's been here. "They rise too, then."

Pyrene stands. "Oh, all dragons rise to mate. Just the males chase while the females… go into heat. And greens don't broadcast their emotions on the same scale - usually. Some do." She grimaces. "At any rate, I've sat chatting for long enough. See you later."

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