Reunion

DragonsFire - Azarin - Tuesday, February 26, 2002, 10:28 PM
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Azarin
At a height of nearly 5'10 this young man is hardly one of the shortest people on Pern. His cool gray eyes look out from underneath dark, straight eyebrows. A fairly straight narrow nose lies right in the middle of his face, a minute scar on one side only perceivable because it is lighter than his tanned skin. High cheekbones make his cheeks look hallow, giving him an almost gaunt appearance, which his sharp chin does nothing to amend. Wiry muscles of arm and leg, and a slim overall figure gives him an rather menacing look, though the light in his eyes is quick to turn warm. Hanging to his shoulders is dark greasy hair, in dire need of a combing (and maybe even a washing), which falls over his eyes constantly.
Dressed from top to toe in green shades, Azarin blends in well in a forested area. His tunic is the same color as dark green pine-needles, while his wherhide trousers are even darker and blended here and there with brown. His soft, calf-length boots are dirty-brown, though underneath the layer of mud, the color appears to be tan. Slung over his shoulders, he wears a cloak, woven from white wool, though dyed to a deep green. Basil regards you, perched atop Azarin's shoulder.
Azarin is 19 Turns and 24 days old.
Carrying:
Basil(#13392p)

The twinned doors reflect your approach, amorphous blur growing larger, larger as you draw near... to your touch they glide open on well-oiled hinges, and release you into the world.

Fort Hold Courtyard
Grey stone rises high and stark to enclose this immense courtyard: over four stories high are the man-made wings that define three sides of the quadrangle, but towering steeper yet is the natural palisade of the cliff itself. Shuttered windows climb nearly up to the fireheights, their placement shifting from steady symmetry to natural irregularity as they rise. Within this expanse of grey, all is not entirely barren of hue; beneath the wings' eaves glints gaudy, painted scrollwork, and though the stone's kept ferociously free of other greenery, pots of herbs -- easily shifted in time of need -- sit out in accomodating weather.
Bisecting the northwest face, rounded steps lead up to the wide doors of bronze-hued alloy that ward the Hold's inner reaches; opposite, eroded wagon ruts trace a path into the passageway out to the rest of Pern, and just to the south, a narrow gate guards the trail down to the landing area.
It is a fall afternoon. Strong winds pierce the clear sky.
You see Jinae, Fatso, Excalibur, Dathe, and Smeela here.
Obvious exits:
Great Hall Landing Area Road

Above, Suryareth pops out of ::between:: with her usual lack of subtlety, dipping that golden head to announce her arrival with a rich, brassy trumpet.
Above, Suryareth angles her route, bearing down towards Fort Hold's courtyard.
Suryareth glides down from above, then lands with a screech of talons.

Suryareth
The moon and sun juxtapose themselves over velvety hide, blending together in shades of chill and warmth. Softest dawn comes as a pale specter over a narrow, aristocratic muzzle, buttery flavors that slowly increase in richness over straight, dainty headknobs. The slightest hint of roseate tinting washes over neck and gilded 'ridges, blending with the tincture of day's arrival - sky's burning orb bursts in golden splendor over back and haunches with radiant clarity, melting away all other colors to remain pure, intense, blinding. The luminous glow of moonlight drifts along her belly, echoed in the opaqueness of star-spangled wingsails of opaline, tracings of sunset's vibrancy contrasting along wing spars in subtle hints of ochre and apricot, which slowly fade away into twilight. Deep brown aventurine settles over sharp talons with gem-like hardness, gleaming darkly against brighter gilt, and a whipcord tail balances the entirety of a sinewy, svelte form, lessening in tone until its pellucid shadings imitate that of pearly moonstones.
Astride Suryareth is Zureile.
Suryareth is 3 Turns, 10 months, and 11 days old.

Azarin is sitting near the Hold's doors, on the ground with a knife in his hand whittling away on a piece of wood. Feeling, rather than seeing, a shadow crossing, he looks up to see a dragon come in for a landing. A gold dragon, no less. Dropping both jaw and his piece of wood, Aza can do nothing but stare at the creature.
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Suryareth really hates landing in this courtyard. There's hardly enough room here for a green, let alone a slightly overweight gold. But Zureile's lazy, and doesn't want to walk all the way down the fireheight steps, so Suryareth obeys. "Come on honey, it's not that bad. I'll get you out of here soon." Zureile's fingers pick at the straps, unbuckling them as quickly as she can. Because she can tell when her dragon's getting irritated, and it's starting to happen. Maybe it's the fact that the gold has to balance on her hind legs in order to not crush the other occupants of the courtyard. Maybe it's the fact that the tip of her tail is resting in the runner watering tray. Whatever it is, Zureile makes certain that she's off of Suryareth in record time, and shielding her eyes to avoid getting dust as the gold launches herself into the air.

Zureile unbuckles her straps and swings a leg over the side of Suryareth's gleaming neck, sliding down the smooth hide to land lightly at the gold's side.

Suryareth crouches, then leaps for the skies in a flurry of wing-driven wind.

Above, Suryareth beats strongly up from the confines of Fort Hold's courtyard.
Above, Suryareth spirals down to the fireheights.

Zureile
Tall--but no longer gaunt--and with features that are probably too strong to ever meld together smoothly, the end result is that Zureile is more arresting than beautiful. Her skin is creamy and pale, with a small smattering of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. Large gray eyes peer at the world with an unnerving intensity from beneath a thick fringe of lashes, and her hair falls in thick, chestnut curls past her shoulders. Generous lips are usually pulled back into an infectious grin, giving her normally earnest face an impish expression. Her previously slender body is slowly reemerging after the recent birth of Catrina, though she's still a far cry from the scrawny specter she used to be. In fact--- looking past the still-drooping segments and the stretch marks---she seems to have actually benefited from motherhood, the rigors of childbirth and a nursing child softening her shape to a pleasing roundness.
High on her left shoulder is a knot of black and orange, the braided gold looping indicating her status as one of Ista's Jr. Weyrwoman.
Awash in gold and bronze, these sleek leathers mold to a long-legged figure honed by riding. Clever stitching runs decorative silver crescent moons across the sun-bright gleam of sueded trous and jacket. Silver toggles follow a diagonal to close the jacket at her shoulder, angled hem revealing the lunar grey of woolen tunic beneath. Pale, delicate gloves contrast the bold glow of her helmet and the gleam of polished boots.
Zureile is 19 Turns and 2 days old.

Watching the queen lift off the courtyard after disposion her rider, Azarin sit immobile for quite some time, then quickly scrambles to his feet, not sure whether he should follow the dragon's flight to the fireheights, or greet the rider. Suddenly realizing his wide-open jaw, he clamps is shut, with an audible sound of teeth smacking together. "Hullo..." he starts off, hesitantly. "W-welcome to Fort Hold.."

Zureile winces. Oooh, that sounded like it hurt. Teeth aren't supposed to make quite that loud of a click when they meet. She eyes Suryareth's flight path for a moment, carefully stripping of her flight gloves and tucking them into her waistband. "Hello there." It seems the polite thing to return his greeting, especially since she probably interrupted whatever he was doing by her arrival. Placing a warm hand against her cold-stained cheeks, she shivers. "It's a little windy to be sitting out here, isn't it?" Uh-oh. She's said hello, and she's commented about the weather. Once she introduces herself, she'll be fresh out of polite conversation.

"No." Shaking his head, Azarin lifts a shoulder in a shrug as he clances up at the sky, then back at the goldrider. "I'm used to this kind of weather, y'know, coming from Tillek and all." Going off on a rant, Azarin puts his knife in its sheath, not really polite to stand in front of a queen's lifemate with a drawn knife is it? "Of course, I didn't always live at Tillek," he continues, though he doesn't tell her /where/ exactly he /is/ from. Eyeing the rider's knot, he tries to remember where the combination of colors belong. "Ista, right?" Pointing to the knot, he tilts his head slightly, one eyebrow lifted in a questioning expression.

Zureile continues to stare at Azarin in silence for a few, brief moments after he's finished speaking. There's something about that guy... Something she just can't quite place her finger on....Hmm. Oh well. "Yeah, I'm from Ista. I've been living there since Suryareth hatched. What with the hot summers, and the time I'm stuck on the sands..." She gives a mock shiver this time. "My blood has completely thinned. I used to be able to stand cold wind and weather, but now?" She gives a short laugh, and rubs her arms. "If I'd known it was going to be this windy here, I would have wrapped myself up from head to toe." It's not exactly like her flight leathers are a pair of shorts and a tank top, but her blood really has thinned. "So, you're from Tillek, hmm? They brew a nice mango wine up there."

Azarin's eyes flickers as he notices the way the woman is staring at him, but off he goes, rambling again, "no, no.. Not /from/ Tillek. I only moved there..." Pausing for a moment, his lips move as he counts the turns inside his head, "seven.. No six turns ago, I lived at Benden before then," he continues, grinning broadly at the goldrider. "Benden's wines are better, if you ask me." But then he's horribly biased to his childhood's Hold.

Zureile's back to the staring again. Poor Azarin. She's got an intense gaze at is, but add to it the fact that she's trying to figure out just what it is about this guy that's bugging her. She could /swear/ that she knows him. At the mention of Benden, though, her face lights up. "Oh, nobody makes wine like Benden does. Nobody even comes close." And nobody makes Benden wines quite like her dad, but she'll keep that biased bit of information to herself. "You know, I love Benden wine, but I just don't have the head for the stuff. Every time I even look at it, I go tipsy---" Her voice trails off as her brain catches up. Seven years ago. Which would make her thirteen. And the guy in front of her looks about her age... and those grey eyes.... Her eyebrows lower, and her voice turns suddenly suspicious. "/Who/ are you?" She's just curious, but it's coming out more like she suspects him of some horrible crime.

Azarin nods in total agreement on her assessment of Benden's wines, grinning foolishly as he suddenly remembers his manners (reminded by Zureile, of course). "M'name's Azarin," he says, waving toward the doors, "and I shoulda really asked you inside sooner. I s'pose it is cold for someone used to Istan heat."

Zureile dismisses all propriety in a flash. "Aza!!" Her voice is exultant, and there's an ear-to-ear grin plastered all over her face. Did he want to count her teeth? Now would be a good time. Completely ignoring his offer to go inside, she launches herself at him in an attempt to give him the hug of his life. Oh, and he'd better have a firm stance, because he's about to get an armful of overly-ecstatic goldrider.

Azarin is almost tackled at that, managing to keep upright by taking two or three steps back with the woman still clung to him. "Yes?" he mutters, voice cracking even with that little word. "That's me..." Patiently waiting for the goldrider to finish her hug, he searches his mind as to who this crazed woman might be. "Zurry..?" he finally ask, worried that he might be guessing wrong, becuase this woman certainly looked nothing like the Zureile /he/ knew.

Zureile, who's still hanging from his neck like a determined leech, laughs. "Nobody's called me that in ages." Okay, either she's going to have to stop hugging him soon, or there's going to be some incredibly off-based rumors flying around Fort Hold. As it is, they've already drawn a small crowd, with faces peeping out of windows to see what all the commotion's about. Stepping back, Zureile holds her arms straight out, still grinning. "But it's me. Here I am." She drops her arms, shaking her head in disbelief. "Shards, Aza, you're the last person I thought I'd come across. What are you doing here? I thought you were back in Tillek all these turns."

Azarin gapes, his face turning slightly red as he notices those watching. Nodding wordlessly, he just stares at Zureile, the points at her and then up at the gold on the fireheights and back. "What.. You.. You're.. How?" Looking bewildered poor Aza, looks around at the crowds again, giving him his fiercest look (which wouldn't scare a puppy), shooing them away with waving hands. "You think I thought to see you on a queen dragon?" he asks, finally gaining control of his speech. "I was at Tillek for a while." Grimacing, he shrugs, glancing down at the ground. "I missed you, y'know?"

Zureile follows his glance up to Suryareth's distant form, and laughs. "Believe me, I'm the last person who thought it was going to happen. Would you believe me if I told you the only reason I ended up a weyrwoman was because I decided to be a boy?" Yeah, Azarin's going to get the inside scoop, because that's actually about how it happened. "But shards, Azarin, I missed you too!" She pokes an escaped strand of hair back behind her ear, only to have it immediately blow back into her eyes. "You're the one who up and left us there in Benden, with practically no warning whatsoever. And you never wrote!" She tucks the hair back again, then gives a frustrated sigh as it immediately blows back into her line of vision. "Could we continue this inside? This wind's starting to get to me."

[AzaZur] Zureile hmms. The quick-quick backstory on Zureile is that her mom, who was always ill, died when she was about thirteen (I'm thinking right after Azarin left), dad remarried about two years later, Zureile hated the stepmom, ran off, ended up trying to pass as a boy so as not to be found, lotsa stuff in between, and then got searched.

"Well, it was my parents who made me leave," Azarin says plaintively, turning his best puppy eyes up at her, with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And you know I don't really write too well." Motioning to the doors, he continues, "you're the one who attacked me before." Looking over his shoulder he offers a familiar wink, followed by a smile, "what's this about wanting to be a boy?"

As you make your way up to the landing, and through the cliff's doors, the latter's weather-worn embossings draw into focus if not clarity; as you enter, lighting and ambiance alter from stark stone to very human habitation.

Fort Great Hall (#1414J)
Opulent, immense: vaulted so high its etched ceiling is lost in the dimness of glows and Turns, in this cavern the best of Pernese artistry is on casual, workaday display. Painted, byzantine knotwork sets off the many archways into other rooms of the complex, and likewise the niches that display works of art from exquisitely chiselled sculptures to a child's first-carved boat. Relentlessly pastel tapestries of peach and cream and cornflower blue, though masterfully stitched, soothe the grey stone; similar tones light the stained-glass glowsconces, as well as the lush, pillowed couches drawn near to the hearth (if not the plainer, more functional benches that also share this hall). Narrow windows, unshuttered on clear days, watch over the broad looms set up permanently nearby.
A grand staircase spirals up along the southern wall; to the southeast, wide doors of bronze-hued alloy ward the courtyard.
You see Punkin, The Hatching Room (#7631J), Blazal, Porter, Bedeviere, Berty Bots everyflavor bean Egg, Cholate Frogs Egg, and Fizzle Pops Egg here.
Obvious exits:
Courtyard Residential/Office Stairs Kitchen

Zureile emerges from the courtyard.

Zureile laughs, shaking her head. "It's a long story. Let me get a mug of klah first. Want one?" It's not like she's going to actually have to make it herself, so she can afford to be polite and offer to get him one. In fact if her luck holds out... Ah! She won't have to even stand up at all. Waggling a finger at a nearby drudge she calls out, "Two mugs of really hot klah, okay?" That way, if Azarin doesn't want any, the second mug will still be warm enough to drink when she's finished the first. Easing her weight down into a chair, she motions him to the one beside her. "I don't even know where to begin, really. It's just so good to see you! It's been forever!" Her expression sobers. "You know my mom passed away, right? My dad remarried?" She's not really sure how good the Tillek gossip chains are.

Azarin turns his chair around, leaning elbows on the backrest, grinning at the way she orders the drudge around. Face falling at her news, he shakes his head as the look in his eyes darkening. "No... " he says, hesitating before moving on, grabbing one mug of klah as the drudge comes running back, "I didn't hear that. That's horrible news.. I mean, I knew she was sick n' all, just not..." Not /that/ sick, is the unfinished sentense he leaves hanging in the air.

Zureile takes a fortifying gulp of klah before continuing. A little too fortifying, as she learns just /how/ hot of klah they can make at Fort Hold. "Oooh...ooooh..." She places the mug on the table hastily, fanning her mouth as she sucks in air. "Hoooottt...." Just a little explanation to ake sure Azarin didn't think she did this on a regular basis nowadays. It takes a few moments, but she's able to compose herself again. "Yeah, she passed away right after you left. I think it was only a month or two." Zureile is /not/ going to cry! She's had turns to learn how to deal with it. "My dad remarried about two turns later. Remember Moira? The artist?" Pretty little blonde thing only ten or fifteen turns older than Zureile? "She and I didn't exactly hit it off, so I ran away."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Zurry," Azarin say, reaching out his hand to touch her arm. "I won't bore you with all the stuff that happened after I left then." Lifting his mug, he takes a swallow of klah, then composes himself and puts a smile on his face. "I'm a hunter here, y'know? It's a great job for me, I get to spend lots of time in the woods. You remember, I always loved the outdoors?"

Zureile's smile is genuine. "That's wonderful! I can't think of a more perfect job for you. And you're not boring me, trust me. Hey, just seeing you is a treat." She leans back, studying him intently. "When did you get so tall?" Not that Zureile's much shorter than him, but she was always tall for her age. "And your hair!" She almost reaches out to give it a tug, but manages to restrain the impulse. "I see you still look like you need a few meals under your belt. Me? Well..." She gives a wry laugh, glancing down at her figure. "Well, I'm still losing the weight from Catr---Hey!" Oooh, more news! "I had a baby! A little girl, she's almost five months old now. I named her Catrina. Remember, mom's best friend? The one that would make those bubblies?" Sheesh, there's just too much to catch up on!

Azarin laughs, his eyes glimmering with joy again, "well, I'm not the only one who's grown," he says, leaning back in his chair, giving her a long look, until the mentioning of a child has his eyes go wide, "you?! You have a baby?" Laughing again, he shakes his head, long hair dancing around his shoulders, "you really are full of surprises aren't you? I don't even have half that much news to offer," he continues, draining the rest of his klah in one swallow, then digs in a pocket to find a leather-cord with which he ties back his hair. "I guess I do need a haircut.. But it helps keep my ears warm in winter." Winking, he tilts his head to one side, smiling warmly at her as he watches her carefully, "so you're a mother now, eh?"

Zureile's laughed more in the past hour than she has in weeks. "Well, it wasn't really on purpose. It just kind of happened." She tinges slightly red. She may be a weyrwoman now, but she was holdbred and raised, and probably isn't ever going to forget that. "But she's beautiful and sweet. And noisy and demanding, so I know she's got to be my kid." She grins, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. "But no more surprises. Just Suryareth and Catrina." At least, that's the only thing that's coming to mind right now. So, are you parents around here? I haven't seen your dad in ages. And why'd you guys leave Tillek? How long have you lived here?" She cuts off her flow of questions. "Okay, okay, one thing at a time."

Azarin blinks, having a hard time even keeping up with the barrage of questions. "Well," he starts off, trying to decide where to begin, "after leaving Benden and going to Tillek... I didn't really make any friends there. So I just wandered around the countryside there." Raising a hand to pull a strand of hair out of the runners-tail, he twists it around his finger as he speaks, "so after a while, I joined the tithe train going to High Reaches Weyr, and from there I went with some traders to Nabol." Releasing the strand of hair Aza scratches his chin, looking back up at Zureile, "my sister's a journeywoman now, and my brother, he's a senior apprentice, last I hear anyway." No need to mention in which craft, is there? "I never really wanted to be a vintner, but you know that.."

Zureile nods sympathetically. "I can't say that I blame you. I was never much of a vintner myself. That's great about your brother and sister, though. I always knew your sister would do well. My dad said she had the knack." And what Gavin says, Zureile believes. "I think you've really found your niche here, being a hunter. I always wondered..." What she always wondered is apparently going to remain a mystery, because Zureile's voice trails off and her eyes get that half-glazed look. Yeah, it's that classic 'another voice in my head just interrupted me' look. Setting her mug down with a sigh, Zureile comes to her feet slowly. "Shards, Aza. Suryareth... well, I've got to get back to the weyr." Her eyes light up suddenly, and she chews her lip uncertainly. Say! She's got an idea! "Do you want to come back with me? I can have you back here in a day or so. It just seems horrible to have to leave like this, and I'm not sure when I can make it back. Besides, it was my turnday two days ago! Consider this a belated turnday present!"

Azarin's happy face falters as Zureile delivers her news. "You'd take me back with you..?" he asks, then blinks once, twice, thrice. "I can't, Zurry. I have duties to the Hold, y'know? I can't just take off as I please." Looking almost as if he's pouting, the hunter crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking this way and that, then comes up with a mischievous grin. "Of course, I /could/ be going out on an extended hunting trip?"

Zureile's grin widens. Come on, Azarin. /Do/ it. /Everybody's/ doing it. "And you know, you don't have to come back empty-handed... We /do/ have wherries and herdbeast in the pens. Who's going to miss one little wherry?" Suryareth goes through at least three of them a week as it is. "And when's the last time you had a chance to go between on a queen?" Yeah, Zureile's pushing all the buttons. And now the last, and final one... "And I'd be really dissappointed if you couldn't make it. Come on, Aza. And if they /do/ find out about your visit, well, I'll take the blame for it!" Oh goodie. Just what she needs, more trouble in her life. She extends her hand to him, jerking her head in the direction of the courtyard. "Suryareth's waiting just outside, and she said she'd be more than happy to take you...." So? Whaddya say?

When's the last time he had the chance to go between on /any/ dragon. The answer being never, Azarin allows himself to be dragged off toward the courtyard his silly grin still plastered all over his face. And if he /was/ caught, who could deny the impulses of a weyrwoman?

Zureile heads out into the courtyard.

The twinned doors reflect your approach, amorphous blur growing larger, larger as you draw near... to your touch they glide open on well-oiled hinges, and release you into the world.

Fort Hold Courtyard
Grey stone rises high and stark to enclose this immense courtyard: over four stories high are the man-made wings that define three sides of the quadrangle, but towering steeper yet is the natural palisade of the cliff itself. Shuttered windows climb nearly up to the fireheights, their placement shifting from steady symmetry to natural irregularity as they rise. Within this expanse of grey, all is not entirely barren of hue; beneath the wings' eaves glints gaudy, painted scrollwork, and though the stone's kept ferociously free of other greenery, pots of herbs -- easily shifted in time of need -- sit out in accomodating weather.
Bisecting the northwest face, rounded steps lead up to the wide doors of bronze-hued alloy that ward the Hold's inner reaches; opposite, eroded wagon ruts trace a path into the passageway out to the rest of Pern, and just to the south, a narrow gate guards the trail down to the landing area.
It is a fall sunset. Strong winds pierce the clear sky.
You see Jinae, Fatso, Excalibur, Dathe, Smeela, and Suryareth here.
Zureile is here.
Obvious exits:
Great Hall Landing Area Road

Zureile scrambles up Suryareth's sun-kissed hide with her usual lack of reserve, leaping from forelimb to neckridge to land on her belly with a slight grunt. Her long legs come in handy as she stretches to hook a leg on the other side. From there all it takes a helpful shift of weight on Suryareth's part, a few buckled straps, and the pair is ready.

You clamber up Suryareth's neck and set yourself between two neckridges.
Astride Suryareth is Zureile.

Zureile grins back at Azarin, helping him with his straps. "Look, that one right there needs to go a little tighter. And this one," she says, giving the strap a hard yank. Oh, does that hurt? Zureile, being female, doesn't really think about things like that. She just wants to make certain he's not going to fall out. Finishing with his straps, she tightens her own. "Ready?" The hair's whipping her hair about as she puts on her gloves, but her grin is more than evident.

"Ready," Azarin says, nodding, though he doesn't look all too convinced as he glances down the side of the queen. Long way down, and they hadn't even taken off yet!
It gets worse. Wait till they do a barrel roll.

You crouch -- leap -- and, beating your wings strongly, fly up and free of the stone confines.

Sky Above the Fort Hold Complex
High above Fort Hold's fireheights, you're afforded a view of not only the complex below, but also of the surrounding countryside from Fort Weyr to--in the east--the rolling hills and fields of the Hold and, just the tiniest of specks, Fort Sea Hold.
The favored places to land for dragons are the fireheights (thanks to its being a great place to sun) and the landing area; the Harper and Fort Hold courtyards are crowded and cramped, so please don't stay long; you may also gain in height to the rest of the region and Fort Weyr.
It is a fall sunset. Strong winds pierce the clear sky.
Obvious exits:
Region Landing Area Fireheights Fort Hold Courtyard Harper Courtyard Harper Watchrider Weyr

Zureile has to yell in order to be heard above the wind. "Okay, we're going between now. Just hold on to me, and by the time you count to ten, it'll be over, alright?" She doesn't realy wait for his answer. She's cold, and she wants to go home.

Suryareth gives one final, mighty push against the air with her star-spangled wings, levelling out into a graceful glide before disappearing ::between::

:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

High Above Central Bowl
The rough, chipped rim of the bowl arcs its jagged-stoned expanse around the dark sands far below. Peaks of weyr-filled cliffs rise up to the east and south, shading at times the weyrling-worn training grounds off to the northwest. North of the sprawl of dragons that keep watch around the bustle of the eastern caverns, dark shadows betray the entrances to the queens' weyrs near the sweltering black of the hatching sands. But it is the rough crack to the north that draws the eye, black stone crumbling down around the rushing waters as they cascade to the forest far below, leaving behind the wet scent of the waterfall. Not to be outdone, a spark of deep ocean blue beckons far off to the west.
It is a fall evening. The wispy clouds move lazily across the sky.
You see Weezer here.
Obvious exits:
Western Gap Star Stones Ista Forest Eastern Bowl NorthEastern Bowl Southern Bowl Feeding Grounds

Suryareth pops out of ::between:: with her usual lack of subtlety, dipping that golden head to announce her arrival with a rich, brassy trumpet.

You spiral downwards towards the Northeastern portion of the bowl.

Above Northeastern Bowl
Just off the Weyrleaders' ledges, the thermals scream and howl their protest up against the beaten Werywall. A maw opens, spewing out hot air from above the Hatching Sands out through the broad windtunnel, while to the west the a trail of dusty earth swirls up from the training ground and barracks. Beyond, towards the southwest, the centerbowl lies flat and silent while fruther south activity squirms: insect bodies around the lounging sentinels of sleeping dragons as they wait outside the bustling living caverns.
Various 'ledges' dot the cliffside.
It is a fall evening. The wispy clouds move lazily across the sky.
Obvious exits:
Centerbowl Living Caverns Training Grounds Windtunnel Weyrleaders' Ledge

Suryareth's Ledge (#13312D)
Weather-worn stone offers a smooth surface, wide and spacious enough for a full-grown queen to relax and soak in the warm, tropical sun if it's the right time of day, or cool off in the shadow of the rising weyr wall above at other times. Scrapes and scars from countless talons have left their individual design along the edge, like a whimsical necklace. The weyr bowl sprawls not too far below, a quick jaunt down the slim stairway that borders the weyr wall brings one to the ground.
You see Leo here.
Obvious exits:
Weyr Sky Stairs

Suryareth's Weyr (#13315D)
A fresh scent pervades this spacious weyr; the previous year's reconstruction efforts have breathed new life into the darkest corners and chased all but the most daring rodents away. Veering off to one side is an indented hollow, the walls curving gently outward to make it even more of a private niche. The depression is wide; room enough for a full grown queen to sprawl in luxury or curl up with another of her kind if she preferred. Scented reeds soften the ancient rock, vibrantly colored pillows strewn in disarray about the relaxing couch.
In the other direction, and beyond, are the main living areas. The furniture is sparse, but well chosen - sturdy and decorative. A slightly worn, stuffed chair is set apart at an angle, the small table beside it nearly invisble under the stack of hides. The newest additions to this area is a wooden rocking chair and a small bassinet. The largest area offers a table with two chairs. A simple setting, were it not for the large, impressive 'rug' that sprawls beneath offering a soft, warm haven from the weyr's stony floor. More glowbaskets than are typical adorn the walls, helping to light the many crevices and grooves in the unevenly cut walls that give the weyr its distinctly unique structure.
Directly from the queen's couch, the wall turns sharply, as if the designers took advantage of a natural shape within the ancient volcano. A high curving archway introduces a smaller area beyond, a more private space obviously meant for sleeping. A comfortable looking cot resides there. As with everything else it is practical in design, but the quality of the thick blankets and fluffy silver and gold pillows suggest a touch of indulgence specifically chosen in honor of the weyr's golden occupant. A wardrobe, with drawers below, stands like a sentinel beside the bed, too large and bulky to have been moved for longer than anyone can remember. The dust of turns has been brushed away, but still the aged wood and creaking hinges give this timeless antique it's charm.
You see Kriminic, Catrina, and Ariesca here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge

[AzaZur] Zureile: Okay, unless you've got a pose you really want to do, Azarin and Zur sit around her weyr chatting for a couple of hours?

You slide gently down Suryareth's neck and land with a soft thud.

*** Disconnected ***

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