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Second Pass Weyr - AU Canon Pern

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Messages - Jisralna

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1
Craft Hall / Everyone should have a little pretty! (open)
« on: 23 Sep 2012 at 07:54 PM »
For all that she loved sewing—it was relaxing—mending and resizing the same boring clothing everyday did tend to get a bit tedious. Two years it had been, almost to the day, since she was lured into a not so unpleasant trap but a not so pleasant bluerider. Though, if she had her druthers she likely wouldn’t change the outcome of that day. Since moving into the Weyr she’d made better friends than she’d ever had between High Reaches Hold and Weaver Crafthall combined. At both places she’d been surrounded by half-siblings and never quite belonged. Landarkin had been a superb father and her half-siblings by him had been adorable and loving. In stark contrast, her biological father and his array of bastards had been far less welcoming though Jysandar had warmed up to her a bit once he’d learned she possessed a rare talent for embroidery.

In short, while the situation hadn’t exactly been ideal, she couldn’t exactly complain about the outcome. Her only wish was that she could send word to her mother and father—Landarkin not Jysandar—not to worry; that she was safe. However, there were days she wondered how safe she truly was. She shared her roommate’s reservations about the public lashings as well as her aversion to Flights. Men high on hormones weren’t the easiest to avoid, she’d come to discover, though she’d managed well enough so far. In fact, she’d done quite splendidly when it came to avoiding too much attention and keeping to herself. She had her few friends, of course, but outside of Seijin and Aparicus, she hadn’t particularly gone out of her way to initiate very many relationships. She’d just kept her head down, repaired torn tunics and taken in trousers.

Of course, every now and then, when she’d finished her pile of clothing and if she had a bit of stashed away floss to spare, she would embroider some of the nicer clothing, using her fairly good memory for color and figure to make renderings of various dragons about the weyr. Her favorites were the blues, of course. As of yet, no one had caught her at it and she wasn’t quite sure how anyone would react. It was just that she’d run out of places to embroider her own clothing without it looking utterly ridiculous and Apari's nice clothing was bedecked in an array of flowers; Shards, even Seijin had let her at his clothing. Surely no one would begrudge her a bit of beautifying and she’d done her best to make sure that she at the very least didn’t do something like put a green dragon on a brownrider’s tunic. Somehow she rather doubted that would go over well.

She was embroidering just such a tunic—a rather handsome brown she’d seen lazing about earlier that day—on the cuff of a tan tunic when she became aware of the increased chattering around her. The Weavers were assembled in a sheltered alcove that opened directly onto the Gather Square allowing the maximum amount of light in as glowbaskets weren’t always the best to see by. The only reason she even noticed the chatter was that she was certain someone had said her name. Blinking, she looked up from where she was carefully stitching the leading edge of the dragon’s wing and became acutely aware of the sound of clipped boot steps heading in her direction. She was slightly off to the side from the others and slightly turned away to dissuade any idle chatter.

Had someone finally discovered her little hobby and come to protest? Surely the other Weavers knew her skills by now and could identify her as the culprit. An image of B’jin bound to a post flashed in her mind before she shook her head and chastised herself for being fanciful. Listening more carefully to the murmur of the other Weavers as the boot steps halted, she bit down on her lower lip and carefully bunched the tunic in her lap so that her project was hidden. Would the lash a woman for sewing?

2
Dining Hall / Re: Reading & Ruling the World [Open]
« on: 24 Sep 2012 at 07:36 PM »
Contemplation of the future and where to fit in around the Weyr seemed to be a popular subject of thought that day. Having gotten caught up in a project—a beautiful little doll for one of the Weyrbrats—she’d arrived late for the midday meal and with her mind wandering, she settled herself at a table across from a young woman who seemed intent on reading some dusty old tome as she ate. It wasn’t what Jisra noticed first of course; being the Weaver she was, she noticed the woman’s clothing first and approved of the style and fit—it suited her shape quite nicely—and secondly she noticed the rather plain sleeve cuffs and her creative mind set to work imagining all sorts of designs and patterns that would look lovely wrapped around the belled sleeves before her backside even touched the seat.

Carefully setting down her plate and cup of cider, Jisralna made an attempt to see what it was the woman was reading before deciding that it was none of her business and retreating into her own thoughts. Though she was certainly mild in temperament she did hope to elevate herself to something more than one of the menders that sat outside the craft hall and patched clothing all day. It did, after all, get tedious, even for those that rather enjoyed it.

As the young woman set about cutting up her food into bite sized pieces—an assortment of meat, tubers, and a decided lack of anything green—she considered her options. The Weyr would need someone to oversee the making and use of fabrics and thread of course and while weaving wasn’t her core craft, every weaver—and any woman whether in the craft or not—knew how to make a basic weave. They would also need a person to oversee the making of garments. Perhaps her nomination for the Masters exams and the title of Honorary Master would help her in this. It never occurred to her that someone might think she would lie about a thing like that; she was far too honest.

As she thought, her eyes strayed to the jacket that was draped over the woman’s chair and just barely visible. It too could use a bit of decoration, but then Jisralna was of the opinion that everything could use a little decoration. It lent character and beauty to something that might otherwise be ordinary and rather plain. Her gray-green gaze shifted to the woman whose clothes she was so closely inspecting as she contemplated a design that would suite her.

“Something geometric.” Jisralna mused to herself, her voice soft and barely heard above the din of the dining hall. She hadn’t realized that she’d spoken out loud and was a little startled by the sound of it. Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her plate and spearing a tuber slice, popped it delicately into her mouth and chewed thoroughly.

3
Craft Hall / Re: Musings [Open]
« on: 24 Sep 2012 at 07:51 PM »
The blurider wasn’t the only one to be about the task of mending clothing. As it would happen, Jisralna—one of the Weyr’s young women with training in the Weavercraft—had just acquired a new load of clothing to hem, patch or scrap entirely. With a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a spring in her step she moved, mostly by memory, towards one of the more secluded yet still well lit corners of the craft hall, barely able to see over her pile of clothing. In fact, it became quite clear that she hadn’t been able to see when she unceremoniously dropped the pile of clothing a few feet from the Weyrling then stopped mid hum on a squeak.

“Shards!” She blushed and a long-fingered hand shot up, fingertips covering her mouth as color rose in her cheeks. Sucking in her full lips, a sign of chagrin, she let her hand fall and quickly rearranged and smoothed her full skirt, quite embarrassed to have been caught so off guard as to curse and in front of what she was sure was a rider. Delicately clearing her throat she offered a sheepish smile and bowed her head, auburn bangs glinting in the mid-afternoon light that streamed through the nearby windows. “Beg your pardon, Sir. I did not see you there. I can move elsewhere if you wish.”

Of course she could always go and join the other weavers and women who mended the clothing but for some reason they always insisted on gossiping. Jisralna didn’t mind so much; she liked to know what was going on in the Weyr, but when they tried to drag her into the fray she did get a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t her place to say things about another person behind their back and most especially not a dragonrider! Ducking, she began to gather the pile of clothing into her arms once more; she’d just have to find a different place then.

4
Western Forests / Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 24 Sep 2012 at 08:59 PM »

It had taken much more convincing than Jisralna had thought would be necessary to garner a ride from a dragonrider to the edge of the Western Forest and she’d garnered no promise of receiving a ride home as she did not know how long it would take for her to finish her task. It was probably just as well because the walk home would be invigorating and refreshing. So, with a polite thank you to the rider as they took off, Jisralna secured her jacket more tightly around herself and gathered up the basket and folded satchels she had brought with her.

While she knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea to go traipsing off into the jungle alone, she justified it in her mind by pointing out that she had tried to get several others to join her and they’d all declined. Besides, very little was known about the dying properties of the Southern Continent plants so really this was just a short expedition to gather what she thought might work well in stead of more familiar Northern ingredients. Her solitary state was also justified by the fact that she’d registered her whereabouts with the proper people and she didn’t intend to venture too far into the forest. From what she’d been told, the more dangerous species of wildlife were generally only encountered deeper into the vegetation.

It was a beautiful clear day and Jisralna took a moment to simply breathe the air; so very different from the crisp air of High Reaches or the salty air of Southern Boll. It smelled of lush vegetation and very faintly—if the wind shifted just right—of dragons. And, as she often did when she was alone and content, she began to hum a tune that was familiar to all of Pern. The Duty Song swelled until the words broke free, clear and delightfully in tune.

”For our world be lost or our world will be saved, from those dangers that are by the dragons braved.”

She finally stepped into the forest, eyes scanning the undergrowth for anything remotely familiar or anything that caught her eye as being potentially useful. And as she continued on her way, she sang. There had always been something comforting about The Duty Song. Maybe it was the promise inherent in the words; that dragons would always and forever be the salvation of Pern even when they were shunned and forced to live like savages in an unforgiving land. In her child’s heart she’d never stopped believing that dragons were out there and then two years and seven days ago her childish hopes had come to be true. B’jin and Larriketh had brought her here. It hadn’t been perfect or anything like she’d imagined but she was still grateful. If given the chance she would have followed the Greenrider all over again.

”Weaver and farmer and miner and smith, tanner and herdsman, all Lord Holders with. Our harpers attuned to the lessons we learned—remember our duty to those who saved Pern.”

Spotting a promising looking stalk plant she hurried over and knelt down, thankful she'd chosen to wear a sturdy brown gown that day. Grabbing a nearby stick and reverting to humming once more, a word or two slipping out as she began to dig at the base of the stalk, she was pleased to find a root bulb very similar and much larger than anything she'd found of its kind on the Northern Continent.

5
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 24 Sep 2012 at 11:13 PM »
Still humming, Jisra smiled to herself as she set aside the stick and carefully pried the root bulb from the ground unmindful of the dirt beneath her nails. Inspecting it, her basket behind her; her hummed melody erupting into words once more.

”…aloft in the sky; Bronze, Brown, Blue, Green and Gold. Wheeling and turn—eek!”

As she turned to place the root in the basket she caught a glimpse of a figure from the corner of her eye certainly not expecting anyone to be so close she was rightfully startled. The root fell into her lap and rolled to the ground, almost back into the hole from which it had come as she placed a hand to her chest as though to still her suddenly galloping heart rate. It only took a few moments to recognize the young man. It was Seijin, a man she counted a dear friend since they’d met on the Isle two years before.

“Dragons above, how long have you been standing there?” Jisralna exclaimed, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. He’d obviously been there long enough to hear her less than perfect singing of the silly old teaching song. Of course it probably wasn’t the first time, or the last that he’d caught her doing something silly. After all, one had only to watch her as she sewed for a length of time to see her make the most ridiculous faces.

Turning back so she could hide her embarrassment, she made a great show of inspecting the other plants in the vicinity, pulling the root bulb back into her lap.

6
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 25 Sep 2012 at 02:14 AM »
Despite his intent, he had cut off her song, though it was no real travesty. She wasn’t the best of singers; the only thing she could boast was decent pitch. As Seijin tried to assure her that he hadn’t witnessed too much of her ridiculous singing, Jisralna kept her eyes trained on the plants before her and her blush deepened when he asked whom she’d come out to the forests with.

“Well, a bluerider brought me out but he could not stay…” She ventured, not looking up. She knew it wasn’t wise for a woman to venture in to the wilds unescorted but she had tried to find someone to come with. And had Seijin not already left, she now knew, he’d have been her company.

As he approached she ventured a glance over her shoulder and as he knelt beside her, her face went slack as she stared at the flower. If that wasn’t the reddest flower she’d ever seen! Her eyes lit up as visions of embroidered flowers just that color danced through her head. Twisting around, unmindful of her skirts as they bunched slightly at her waist though not terribly so, she reached out and touched a delicate petal with her fingertip. “Oh!”

Perhaps not the most elaborate of answers but it held in it her very sudden desire to replicate that color. With an adequate amount of the blooms as well as some red berries that seemed to grow in the area it might very well be possible! Grey-green eyes sparkling, she grinned, her dimples appearing in the dappled sunlight as she fumbled for her own root, a simple ingredient that would bleach the fabrics when soaked in the stewed pulp. “Nothing so beautiful as that. Are there many of them; the flowers?”

7
Dining Hall / Re: Reading & Ruling the World [Open]
« on: 25 Sep 2012 at 10:17 PM »
Oh wherry feathers! The younger woman had heard her. Cheeks still flushed, Jisra bit down lightly on the insides of her cheeks, lips parting slightly as she lifted her head slightly, and shoring up her confidence in the face of the woman’s tone, she offered a smile despite the less than kind look she was receiving. Clearing her throat softly once more, Jisralna set down her utensils and as a force of habit, smoothed her skirts. “I did not mean to intrude. I was just thinking out loud. You have beautifully made clothing.”

Despite the fact that she felt like squirming under the amber gaze of the other girl—which was ridiculous as she’d done nothing wrong—Jisra held herself with her back straight and fingers interlaced in her lap. While she actively strived to avoid conflict, this was far from a conflict and truly she had nothing to worry about. As if to prove it—more to herself than anyone else—she lifted her chin ever so slightly.

Baby steps; that’s what it would take in order for her to emerge from nearly twenty-five years spent in a shell. If she was going to get anywhere in this place she was going to have to learn to speak up for herself when called for. This situation, however seemed easily enough handled with an explanation.

8
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 25 Sep 2012 at 10:36 PM »
Utter delight blossomed across the Weaver’s face as Seijin informed her that there were blooms a plenty and it was all she could do not to jump to her feet and take him up on his offer to show her. Taking a deep, calming breath she tried to settle herself. It was all well and good to be excited about something but that was no reason for her to go bouncing around squealing like a little girl half her age. As he ran his fingers through his hair, Jisra reached up and compulsively smoothed it back down without comment. Though she’d loved dearly every one of her siblings in High Reaches, she adored Seijin more if only because they shared several key interests, amongst them the merit of proper dying techniques.

“If you will help me look? Perhaps if we find some of those red berries, the red color will remain vibrant longer.” Really it was more a process of trial and error on the Southern Continent. Sure there were a few plants that seemed to exist on both continents, however, there were a great deal more that she had never experienced before and so experiments were called for if they were to find what they wanted. If they couldn’t, then the Weyr would just have to make due with plain, undyed cloth and thread and somehow she rather doubted that would go over well with many of the riders. “I will just gather a few more of these white roots; they are much larger in the South.”

9
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 26 Sep 2012 at 12:03 AM »
A throaty chuckle—well meant of course—was the only acknowledgement that Jisralna gave to Seijin’s embarrassment. Not for the first time she wondered how her family was faring both in High Reaches and Southern Boll though after two years at Katila, even if she were given the chance to leave, to return to her old life, it would not be an easy decision. Though she knew her Mother and Father were likely worried and that the siblings that remembered her might be concerned, she’d made a life for herself. She wasn’t assisting a bitter older half-sibling or trying to please a biological father with unrealistic expectations. She could be herself and her skills were taken at face value, used to the benefit of many rather than the frivolous desires of a single family.

“There always seem to be berries about; otherwise there would not be so many bubbly pies.” And anyone who knew Jisralna knew that such a scenario would be devastating. It was truly her greatest weakness; she was unable to help herself when she smelled the tangy sweet aroma of bubbly pies. She just had to have one…and that often led to an all out raid on the supply unless someone was there to moderate her. “Everything here is just so much more…vibrant!”

Setting back to work digging out the largest of the white roots, she settled them in her basket and then when she was sure she had more than enough for the laundry as well as to bleach some thread, she pushed herself to her feet, slapping at her skirts to shake loose as much dirt as she could though the dress would need a thorough washing when she returned home. “So, how have Candidate Lessons been?”

10
Craft Hall / Re: Musings [Open]
« on: 27 Sep 2012 at 08:04 PM »
Still a little flustered and embarrassed that she’d sworn in front of a dragonrider—or anyone at all for that matter—Jisra continued to fuss with her skirts and the apron she’d tied over them, keeping her gaze downcast until he extended an offer to share the decently lit place. Blinking, cheeks still flushed, she looked up from beneath lashes and offered a shy smile. It of course was her intention to get out more and meet people she had not properly met before, but that didn’t make it any easier. “My name is Jisralna and I would be glad to keep you company, Sir.”

It slipped out, a force of habit really. Not only was he dragonrider but he was likely a ranked man otherwise. In truth, it was probably not a habit she was likely ever to break. Nearly twenty-five years was far too long to be doing something to change on a pin drop. Though, when he offered to help with the mending, her eyes went a little wide, looking more grey than green in the slanted sunlight. Perhaps he was a Weaver though she rather thought that she would recognize him if he were. That’s not to say she knew every Weaver there ever was, but if he’d been to Weaver Crafthall in the past decade surely she would recognize him?

“Oh! That is remarkably kind of you, but you do not have to.” Stooping once more she began to form the pile so that it wasn’t so sprawled. She was of the opinion that while currently it was necessary—what with the shortage of able bodied individuals—that dragonriders should worry about one thing only…their dragons and that together that had far more pressing matters than things like mending. This was one young woman who took her Duty Song very seriously. “You would be surprised how quickly I can finish a pile like this.”

Her eyes twinkled, reflecting the faint smile that curled on her lips. She wasn’t a Weaver for nothing and the needle was almost like an extension of herself just as a hammer was to a smith or a guitar to a harper. While she was fussing with the pile, she caught a man waving to her from the corner of her eye and turned her head, auburn braid sliding over her shoulder and down her front. Seijin! Smiling, she returned the wave, beckoning the man closer. “Dragonrider, I do no know if you know my friend; this is Candidate Seijin.”

11
Dining Hall / Re: Reading & Ruling the World [Open]
« on: 27 Sep 2012 at 11:26 PM »
There was something about the other girl’s demeanor that Jisra recognized. Something overly confident and assured. It was a demeanor common to those people of the Blood; those closely connected with the Lord Holders of Pern. Having worked in close contact to the Ladies of Southern Boll, she felt fairly confident in her observation of the girl’s origins. What was more, she seemed to respond quite well to earnest compliments which wasn’t entirely surprising. Aside from that, Jisra wasn’t sure what to think of the younger woman, especially when Kuminari made eye contact rather…forcefully. Yes, this one was used to being in control of the women around her at the very least.

Not one to initiate battles of will—or any battles for that matter—Jisra glanced down at her plate before looking up again. When she did, she was slightly startled by the intent look on the other woman’s face. Blinking, she compulsively fussed with her skirts again, smoothing them though they already laid flat. The woman’s question caught her off guard and for a moment Jisra stared, her own head mirroring Kuminari’s; tilting as she tried to determine if there was a possible connection. After a moment, Jisra gathered her thoughts and shook her head. “I do not believe so. My name is Jisralna; I am a Weaver. Are you a Weaver as well?”

12
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 28 Sep 2012 at 12:55 AM »
For all that her figure didn’t show it, Jisra never turned down a meal if bubbly pies were involved. It hadn’t taken her long after arriving on the Southern Continent that bubbly pies made from Southern fruit were oh so much better than she’d ever tasted and her addiction had only doubled. With something close to a dimpled grin, she nodded at Seijin’s suggestion and listened intently as he began to speak of his time as a Candidate. Of course she’d been a Candidate herself, however she imagined that it was thoroughly different being that she was a woman. More than one rider had expressed their doubts that she would Impress a fighting dragon which was just as well for her as she had no desire to fight anything be it Thread, feline or a stupid drunk who didn’t know when to shut up. If anything she was far better suited to the background; mending and patching and soothing.

When Seijin confessed that he had his own reservations, the young Weaver woman frowned and turned to have him as he stood, basket clasped in front of her and her lower lip sticking out in the faintest of pouts. Her expression was a study of concern to be sure. His nervousness about Impression was understandable though she had faith that he would Impress. He still had several years left in which to find his dragon. What was more, he’d been dragon picked which meant something. They’d all been dragon picked. It was only a matter of time—though admittedly her own time was running out. “Seijin, that is all pointless worrying. You were chosen by a dragon. Dragons only chose those whom they see promise and potential in. If you were a waste of time, they would not have bothered bringing you here.”

It was a crazy, roundabout logical and exposed the woman’s almost blind faith in the dragon species as a whole. Smiling, she reached out and briefly touched his upper arm before returning her hand to the handle of her basket. The encouraging smile that curled her lips was short-lived as the Tanner asked a question of his own. For a moment she stared, dumbfounded then color rushed to her cheeks and she spun away in a swirl of brown skirts. That he would ask her…she pursed her lips and tried to muster up the proper indignation but it wouldn’t come. Instead she sighed and glanced over her shoulder. “Do not smile at me like that.”

Of course now that he’d uttered the question, she couldn’t seem to think of anything else. Whom did she prefer in the Weyr in regards to appearance? Of a certainty there were a great many handsome men though as she thought about it, she found herself biased to the dragonriders. Perhaps it was their connection with their dragons that so enhanced them? There was B’jin of course, but she’d discovered rather quickly that his only interest in her would be mildly friend and R’nd only liked her for her embroidery skills. There was the Bronze Weyrling Allendris, he was rather handsome and carried himself well. There were also a handful of others that she found herself appreciating and when she thought about it even more, she was surprised to find that at least half of the men she found attractive rode Bronze dragons. And of her mental list, she’d never actually met any of them officially; only observed them from afar. “There may be one or two, but I doubt that any of them notice me; which is fine.”

13
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 30 Sep 2012 at 07:01 PM »
Sighing, Jisra turned to face Seijin, her basket clasped demurely in front of her. Why would he want to know about who she thought was attractive anyway? Tilting her head slightly she tried to seek out his reasons but his smile gave nothing away though she had a feeling perhaps he had devious—if harmless—intent behind his question. When he finally spoke, claiming to simply be curious she raised an auburn brow slightly and smiled slightly. She understood being curious, it was what led her to do quite a few things that would otherwise seem far out of character for a meek young Weaver woman.

“Well, Seijin. If you must know…” The flush returned to her cheek as she mustered up the courage to at least admit she found some of the men attractive. It was far more forward than she was used to being and a great deal more open as well. “I will give you three names, though I am not sure what you would want with them.” Again she paused as though considering reneging her offer before finally she spoke the names, uncertain if Seijin even knew any of the men or what he would do with their names once he had them. She certainly hoped he would not run about shouting her opinions to the entire Weyr. At least she was certain that he likely wouldn’t take pleasure in humiliating her like her sister had when informing her of her first love interest’s infidelities. Face aflame, she finally spoke the three names—only three of perhaps a half dozen—then turned away again, hiding.

“Echlerov, R’nya and Allendris.”

14
Craft Hall / Re: Musings [Open]
« on: 30 Sep 2012 at 09:46 PM »
Manners, it was something she valued highly and rather appreciated in dragonriders. There were some that seemed to not fully grasp the concept of manners, but then that could be said for non-riders as well. More than a few Candidates and Weyrfolk had much to learn in the art of courtesy; but not this one. His frank honesty was quite refreshing as well, she’d come to rather admire the trait as Seijin possessed something of the same in his nature. “I think we all suffer from homesickness at times to varying degrees. Distraction does usually work quite well.”

It was then that Seijin finally joined them, and Jisra turned a warm smile on the younger man as he greeted the dragonrider in proper fashion. Though, the quips between the two men, while nearly lost on the young woman, were suggestive enough to make her blush. She was still getting used to the concept of male-male relationships and did her best not to dwell overly much on the fact that Seijin seemed to prefer such relations. Blushing, she suddenly became very interested in her pile of clothing and settled herself quietly beside it, consequently in the middle of the two men.

“Oh, I do not mind, Seijin, please say you do not mind the company, Sir. After all, you did say you wished for a distraction.” Her voice still soft, she glanced up at Seijin, a dimpled smile flashing just a glimpse of well kept teeth. She turned her smile rather innocently to Echlerov, green-grey eyes eager. Pulling out her sewing supplies even as she waited for a response, Jisra pulled several tunics into her lap then deftly threaded a needle with the proper shade of thread and turned her attention to her task. Holding the needle carefully between her lips, the tail of thread fluttering slightly with each breath, she lifted the first garment and made quick work of locating the places she would need to mend or patch then glanced up again, first at Seijin then at Echlerov as she took the needle from her mouth. “If you do not mind my asking, Sir. Would you tell me of your dragon?”

15
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 30 Sep 2012 at 10:08 PM »
By now Jisra’s face was completely red, not exactly the best look for her. Her ears burned and she was certain that at any moment she would burst into flames she was so embarrassed. Despite two years to get used to it, Jisralna had spent the majority of her life oblivious to same gendered relations and now seemed to be surrounded by them. That Seijin practiced such relations did nothing to dampen her borderline familial love for him, but nonetheless it was still a bit awkward for her to even fathom such relations. But she was nothing if not discrete and she refused to make him feel uncomfortable about himself simply because she wasn’t quite used to something. Still, the very idea of competing with him for a man was…well it was embarrassing.

“I do not have my eye on anyone, Seijin.” She answered softly, staring at cluster of pale purple flowers. “And even if I did, I confess I know nothing about such things. It is better that I leave romance alone entirely as men here seem to have entirely different ideas about such things.”

It was true, of course. Marriage was quite rare at the Weyr from what she’d seen. People gave of themselves more freely and only a few of the riders seemed to be paired off into what was referred to as Weyrmates. It was something of a romantic notion in her mind—if a little scary from her experiences during flights—the joining of both riders and dragons in something akin to marriage. But her mind was firmly set in the tradition of the Holders; marriage and then children. So it was hard for her to accept the decree that in order to Stand for Impression she was to bare a child. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with the need to populate the Weyr but her own personal morals did not approve of the order of things in the Weyr.

She imagined she would get over it eventually but she couldn’t imagine when. “As of yet I have only met one of them in person and he seems nice enough. You met him as well of course.”

16
Western Forests / Re: Autumn Gatherings (open)
« on: 01 Oct 2012 at 12:36 AM »
Flight pairing was not something that Jisralna had ever thought of aside from avoiding the amped up losers of a flight and it wasn’t likely to be something she ever considered until she was presented with it. Though it would be easy enough to surmise that she would find the concept alarming; copulating with a person she was not married to, much less not of her choice. It wasn’t likely to be something she would have to worry about until the time she Impressed; if such a time ever came. Of course, that did mean that someday soon, Jisralna was likely in for a rude awakening to the way of the world as it was at Katila but until then she lived in her sheltered little world where things made sense; observing the crazies as they scrambled around.

Looking over her shoulder, Jisra caught the faint blush that appeared on her friend’s cheeks, enhanced by the dappling of sunlight that worked its way through the trees. Smiling slightly, though she herself was still flushed, she made a mental note not to encourage any flirting between herself and Echlerov for it would seem that at the very least, Seijin was interested. “Yes he was nice.” She said softly, taking several calming breaths before turning to look back at Seijin once more, hoping she wasn’t nearly so flushed. “Come, I think we should go look at those flowers now. I am not seeing much of interest around here at the moment.”

17
Gather Square / The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 01 Oct 2012 at 01:17 PM »
The Hatching had been quite lively despite its small size and Jisralna left the Sands with a dreamy smile on her face. Baby dragons always seemed to do that to her; more so than baby humans. That there had been a small Gold born of a Gold/Brown pairing had seemed to be quite the shock for all of the riders and she imagined it was because most Golds turned up in Gold/Bronze clutches. In her opinion she was just grateful that all of the hatchlings Impressed and no one had gotten hurt.

Knowing that everyone was going to leave around the same time, Jisra had kept to the back of the viewing area and had slipped away the second the last hatchling had picked their lifemate. Walking at a sedate pace across the Gather Square, the young weaver woman made her habitual pass by the bulletin board and paused when something caught her eye. It was a scrap of paper that hadn't been there before--as she did pass the board several times a day.

Walking over to the board, she reached out to smooth the hastily pinned paper and keep it from fluttering in the wind, though as she began to read, her eyes went wide. Snatching her hand back with a gasp she shook her head, uncertain of how she was supposed to react other than to be horridly embarrassed that she'd read something so private. With her hand pressed to the base of her long neck, she took to steps back then squeaked as she bumped into something--or someone--and spun around, eyes wide and lips parted looking for all the world like she'd just been caught doing something horribly indecent; which she technically had. As her mouth worked, trying to form words that she couldn't possibly even think of, she flushed deeply.

18
Craft Hall / Re: Everyone should have a little pretty! (open)
« on: 01 Oct 2012 at 02:50 PM »
Twisting around at the waist where she was seated on a floor pillow, Jisralna stared up at the dragonrider who had come up to her, green-grey eyes flicking towards the shoulder knots pinned to his tunic. Her stomach lurched; bluerider. Her fingers reflexively clenched around the material in her lap and before she could think of someway to stall him, he’d reached out and snatched the tunic from her hands with little effort though she had tried to cling to the material. Her face paled as he shook out the garment, revealing the brown half finished brown dragon on the cuff of the tunic.

As he spoke again, a strangled squeak escaped her as color flooded into her pale cheeks. She was in for it now! She should’ve been more careful about where she embroidered the dragons! She should’ve just stuck with abstract designs at least then something like this wouldn’t have happened. Her eyes began to sting, certain that she was about to get yelled at, despite the dragonrider’s mild tone. She couldn’t handle yelling; not even in the least! As she began to compulsively smooth her skirts, she otherwise held very still, staring at the rider’s knee of all things. If the dragonrider didn’t yell at her, she was certain that if he complained one of the older weavers would do the honors. For the most part they’d kept their mouths shut about her little side projects but if she started stirring up trouble with mistakes such as these, she doubted they would stay silent much longer.

When the rider spoke once more, Jisra missed the humor in his eyes—staring at his knee as she was—and flinched slightly, sucking in her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Though when she finally found her voice, it waivered precariously past as it had to force its way past the terrible lump in her throat. “I did not mean to, Sir. They did not tell me it was your tunic, they just said hem the sleeves, so I hemmed the sleeves and then I remembered the brown dragon and I had some thread that was the proper shade and…I am sorry, Sir. I can redo it. I can make you a new tunic if you wish.” Her frazzled nerve shown through as she finally looked up, a misty sheen over her eyes. Had she not been so averse to yelling—if it did not make her cry—she likely would have been as calm as ever, but as it was, she’d do anything to avoid being yelled at that very moment.

With her attention on the dragonrider, Jisra was oblivious to the little verbal stand-off that was taking place just beyond the bluerider. Instead she alternately clenched her hands in the material of her skirts and then smoothed them, looking very much like an abused puppy.

19
Gather Square / Re: The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 01 Oct 2012 at 03:25 PM »
Pressing her lips together to keep her mouth from opening and closing like some sort of awkward land fish, Jisralna looked up at the face that belonged to the strong hands that steadied her. After a delayed second recognition flared and immediately clasped her hands in front of her, not quite sure what to do about that recognition; how did one go about properly addressing a person whom they had seen publically beaten? Deciding that ignoring the entire ordeal would be best she blushed further as he mentioned the posting on the board. Clearly he hadn’t read it…he intimated as much with his words but as he jokingly offered to take the blame, her embarrassment was replaced by acute confusion.

Why on earth would someone do such a thing; more importantly why would a man do such a thing? Uncertain if he was being ironic or attempting to be funny, she fidgeted as she tried to think of a proper response. After several awkward seconds she realized there really wasn’t a proper response to this entire situation and unceremoniously blurted out the first thing that made it to her lips. “I do not like yelling.” Blinking, as if startled by the irrelevance of her statement, Jisralna blushed again then cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn’t comment. “I mean, I do not think we will get in trouble…unless we are accused of posting that…” She couldn’t even begin to fumble for a suitable word it was so very out of her league.

20
Gather Square / Re: The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 01 Oct 2012 at 04:35 PM »
Clearly flustered and out of sorts, the Weaver woman continued to fidget; smoothing her gown though there were no creases, fussing with the end of her braid, retying the embroidered sash that cinched in the waist of her rather plain gown. Convinced that she’d more than made of fool of herself—which wasn’t something she was particularly used to since arriving two years prior—she lowered her gaze and nibbled lightly on the inside of her lower lip. Clearly this “getting out more often” idea was going to take a bit more effort to implement. Socializing was proving to be far more difficult that Jisra had expected. Of course it didn’t help that almost every last man and woman in Katlia seemed to have been born with or developed a rather substantial amount of sarcasm.

When the Candidate—she remembered him from before the beating though she doubted she would ever get that image out of her mind and the thought of it made bile creepy up and tickle the back of her throat—skirted around her to inspect the board, she slowly turned and finally lifted her grey-green eyes and moved alongside him, studying his reaction. There was no reaction. Blinking she interlaced her fingers in front of her to keep from fidgeting and once again her cheeks were flushed with color. He’d read the post and…was critiquing it?

“But it should not be up there. What would R’nya or S’kef say? It is very rude to put something like that up for everyone to see, regardless of its verity.” Her voice was soft but marked her as both concerned and a little distraught by the whole situation. There was, after all, only so much a woman could handle. With a sigh, she contemplated taking down the post, but hesitated as the bulletin board was for Weyr officials to post on and she’d not been given permission to do so. Perhaps she’d seek out R’nya and discretely inform him of the post so he could deal with it. He was one of the new Wingleaders and so had far more authority than she ever would in regards to the board.

“I am Jisralna. Would you be so kind as to remind me of your name? I remember that you arrived shortly before I was transferred to the Weyr from the Isle. I hope you are doing well.” She tactfully skirted around the prominent event that most people knew him from. She would not lie and say she didn’t see him in her mind’s eye, strapped to a whipping post, but neither would she offer up the information and shame the man without cause. While the reason for punishment if not the severity of the punishment might have been warranted, it was never a good idea to fling such things into the face of the men who had suffered them, especially not ones who had been rumored to have gone a little mad. The subject of the Hatching, however, was safe enough. “I thought it was a lovely hatching. The little Gold seemed to cause a stir. I rather liked the blue though; I think I harbor a childhood fondness for them, though. What about you; did you enjoy the Hatching?”

21
Gather Square / Re: The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 02 Oct 2012 at 01:39 PM »
Grey-green eyes went wide as Seijin read over the blasphemous posting and then commented on it in a most unexpected way. Once again her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she wondered if this wouldn’t be a constant state for her in her journey to venture out of her comfort zone. Second guessing her intentions to seek out a man of husband material, she pressed her lips together and did her best to smile without it looking like a grimace as Sanderon spoke. She was glad that he was doing better, but was so utterly distracted that she barely heard his opinions on the Hatching and almost missed his admission of treachery against dragons. Almost.

Eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open on a gasp. He had shot a dragon…with an arrow?! Indignation and something close to anger bubbled to the surface only to be expressed in a rather pathetic display involving a huff. He’d shot a dragon! A blue dragon! As she sputtered and once again managed to look like a startled fish hauled onto the shore, Seijin continued to speak though she barely heard him. True she understood the potential reasoning behind Sanderon’s attack, but nothing—nothing—excused an attack on dragons; especially since there were so few left!

So intent was she on making vaguely fish-like faces at Sanderon in her disbelief and indignation that the sudden arrival of one of the blueriders startled a squeak out of her. D’hys, rider of blue Zeianth. Had he heard what Sanderon had said? A second later it was confirmed as D’hys declared himself to be the rather upset rider of Zeianth. Snapping her mouth shut, Jisralna took half a step back, fingers interlaced and in front of her as she wrung her hands. The tone of the bluerider’s voice put her on edge and made her more than a little nervous. At any moment she was sure he would start yelling…she really did hate yelling.

Though, when the rider advanced on Sanderon, clearly intent—at least in Jisra’s opinion—on doing him harm, she pursed her lips and glanced over at Seijin, unsure what she was supposed to do. True, while she would love to smack Sanderon upside the head for shooting a dragon—and she probably never would because she wasn’t particularly violent—the boy had been lashed, and quite severely. Of course she agreed with D’hys’s sentiments but she rather thought his threats were a bit much. Still, his summation of her as meek was accurate and all she could do was clear her throat, hoping to distract the bluerider from beating Sanderon to within an inch of his life. He’d paid for his transgression and while she was upset that he’d caused harm to a dragon, she didn’t want to see the lad killed. Certainly not in front of her, that was for sure.

But something else distracted the rider and he left off with a warning, glancing briefly at the post on the board before scolding them for writing it…well of course they hadn’t written it! Her face, which had been pale a moment ago now flushed with color once more as D’hys stormed off leaving her staring after the blue dragon and rider pair. As she did she caught sight of a rather prominent member of the Weyr. Shards! The word, though only thought in her head caused the color to deepen and once more Jisralna began to fidget and fuss with her skirts in a compulsive manner, unable to keep her hands still. Despite Sanderon’s earlier snip and her own desire to bring the rather rude piece of literature—if it could be called that…which it couldn’t in her opinion—to the bronzerider’s attention, she was now terrified that he would accuse them as D’hys had.

When he finally came to a halt, Jisra dropped her gaze, finding a small dip in the ground beyond fascinating. She couldn’t look the man in the eye after the few raunchy lines she’d read on the board behind her. When he greeted her, she bobbed an awkward curtsy and her voice squeaked out a polite, if strained “Sir”. When he stepped around her, the young Weaver spun around, opening her mouth to protest, to say something to warn him but all that came out was a strangled squeak. Fingers twisted in fabric. Would he explode into a rage and blame them all because they happened to be there? Would he have them punished? Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the bronzerider as he turned around; she couldn’t even avoid his gaze as she would’ve preferred.

Sure that he was going to shout, despite his calm demeanor—that would make it so much worse—Jisralna flinched slightly, closing her eyes when R’nya opened his mouth to speak. When his calming tone and simple words washed over her, her eyes snapped open in surprise. No snarling or growling or threats? Blinking twice and then a third time for good measure, Jisralna shook her head slightly, averting her gaze once again. “I do not believe so, Sir.” Her voice was soft and wavered just a little from her frazzled nerves. By now she was ready to run all the way back to her room and stay there for the remainder of the week.

22
Craft Hall / Re: Musings [Open]
« on: 04 Oct 2012 at 12:36 AM »
The young woman’s face lit up as Echlerov agreed to tell them of his dragon. It was almost silly how giddy even the sight of a happy dragon made Jisralna; it brought her back to her childhood, before the dragons had disappeared, banished to the Southern Continent as she now knew. If the older man had promised a visitation with his young dragon, the Weaver probably would have agreed to anything. As it was, she nodded eagerly, any awkwardness from the moment before evaporating. Of course when Echlerov revealed the color of his dragon a grin split Jisra’s face, dimples appearing in either cheek. She adored blues! And the second he gave a physical description, Jisralna knew exactly which dragon he had been claimed by.

“I have seen him, he is beautiful!” Her voice was breathy and her eyes took on an adoring gleam. She had seen the blue—Pistoth—frolicking in the air and had used his form and motion more than once in the simple charcoal sketches she did; ideas for future embroidery. When he finally finished the description of his lifemate, Jisralna had a wad of fabric clutched to her stomach and looked almost…well nostalgic might have been the kindest word. She really did love blue dragons; more than was probably considered normal especially since she would never, ever Impress one, nor would she want to.

As Seijin took the lead in sharing about himself, the young woman took a moment to compose herself—once she realized how silly she must look, of course—and taking a deep breath, settled her features into friendly interest. Of course she already knew much about Seijin and he wasn’t very forthcoming with details. By the time he finished, however, she was blushing once more and she shook her head, making a shooing motion with her hand. “He exaggerates. It is more of a hobby really.” Or it would be once she finally started a family. “But I do suppose it is my turn.

I was raised in High Reaches and I suppose that’s where I developed my fondness for dragons, especially blue ones. When I was old enough, I was apprenticed at the Weaver Crafthall in Southern Boll. B’jin and Larrikith found me there and brought me here and while it is rather different from anything I had known I think I quite like it. To be near dragons is a gift that I will never take for granted.” Perhaps her words were a bit too heavy but they came from her heart. Shrugging to dispel some of the seriousness, she smiled and turned her attention dutifully to her mending pile, beginning with one of the smaller tunics, mending a tear with tiny stitches that disappeared into the coarse cloth. “And yourself, Sir? What were you before you were a dragonrider?”

23
Craft Hall / Re: Musings [Open]
« on: 07 Oct 2012 at 12:46 AM »
Jisralna raised a single brow ever so slightly at the dragonrider’s words about those of his caste and wondered if he was liberally applying them to himself as well. True enough he was handsome—only the blind might dispute that—but there was something to be said about modesty. Then again, there was also something to be said about confidence and Jisra rather agreed with the man’s words to Seijin. Tanners were invaluable to a Weyr, especially one such as Katila. Of course the young Weaver couldn’t play the skeptic much longer as Echlerov extended an offer to meet his dashing dragon.

Grey-green eyes sparkled as a grin split the young woman’s squared features, dimples coming out to play a second before Jisra jabbed herself in the finger with a needle. With a squeak, she returned her attention back to her task, a bit embarrassed that she’d stabbed herself in front of the two men. Thankfully when she inspected it, she found no blood to stain the clothing. When he asked a question of her, she glanced up through dark lashes, her expression thoughtful.

“I stood once before, and I imagine I will again.” Her voice was soft and perhaps overly serious but that was nothing new. Lowering her gaze, a faint tinge of color on her cheeks she continued. “However, I will do my duty by the Weyr first.” While she might not the suggested order of things—namely birth before marriage—she was more than willing to supply the Weyr with the next generation. It was just a matter of finding the right man to settle down with; something that she had a feeling would prove to be quite difficult. With a shy smile, she looked back at her project. “In the meantime, however, I would be more than happy to make the acquaintance of your dragon, Sir.”

Listening quietly as Echlerov spoke of his life before Jisralna smiled once more and nodded then glanced up as Seijin voiced a sentiment that she shared. She was extremely pleased to be a part of the Weyr. For so long she had hoped that dragons were not gone and one rather boring afternoon her wishes had been granted by a rather charming greenrider. “The entertaining jobs are rarely the necessary ones, Seijin. I cannot imagine that farming or healing is particularly entertaining, but both are needed for life to flourish.”

24
Gather Square / Re: The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 07 Oct 2012 at 01:36 PM »
Grey-green eyes darted up to the Bronzerider’s face at his advice, flashing with indignation though she kept her mouth shut. She might listen in on the gossip from time to time but never once had she indulged in the act of gossiping since her arrival here. She certainly would never get involved in gossip about someone so prestigious as a bronzerider. Nodding mutely, a show of her compliance, she then glanced away from his intense blue-grey eyes to look at Seijin and Sanderon. Would they keep this incident to themselves? She rather hoped that Seijin wouldn’t put the dragonrider in an awkward position, but Sanderon…what was she supposed to think about a man who had shot an arrow at a dragon, even if it had been in self defense? Still, she would not pass judgment on him until she got to know him a little better.

When R’nya brought up S’kef, Jisralna wondered how the brownrider would react. According to the gossips—several of the older weavers—whom she listened to on occasion, he wasn’t exactly the friendliest of men and R’nya seemed to think the same. Would the brownrider get upset? Would he laugh it off? Perhaps he would go on a manhunt until the perpetrator was found. Wincing slightly at the thought of another public punishment, Jisra shook the thought from her head as R’nya excused himself. Quickly bobbing in a curtsy she murmured a polite “Sir” before glancing at the two younger men.

“We should keep this to ourselves.” She wrung her hands in front of her, her voice soft and her gaze indirect. The last thing she wanted to do was humiliate someone as hardworking and level-headed as R’nya and she doubted it would ever be a good idea to humiliate S’kef.

25
Gather Square / Re: The Bulletin Board (OPEN)
« on: 11 Oct 2012 at 02:42 PM »
Keenly aware of Sanderon’s failure to verbally agree with her in regards to discretion, Jisralna tilted her head slightly and studied the man’s face for several seconds. He was a tricky one to peg down. She wasn’t some grand reader of people, but she was good enough at it that she could generally have some idea of what a person was like; however, this boy…he was different. He seemed to stubbornly refuse to accept his new lot in life to the point where he’d subjected himself to punishment; he admitted to bringing harm to a dragon and had seemed ready to put up a fight had the dragonrider carried through with his threats. While she certainly didn’t approve of some of his actions, she was inclined to approve of the underlying structure of the lad’s personality…but still.

When he spoke she straightened herself and finally blinked her several seconds of intense scrutiny over. “Will you be attending, Sanderon?” Her fingers twisted in front of her as she glanced over at Seijin who was bidding the reluctant Candidate farewell. “Yes, it was good to meet you. I am surprised I had not met you before.” Though really she wasn’t. She’d spent a relatively short time on the Isle compared to some and with the boy’s persistent attempts to escape it was no wonder they’d kept him on the island so long.

When her close friend and companion spoke again, offering to escort her to the feast in a rather embarrassing manner; especially in front of another man which neither of them knew particularly well. Blushing, she frowned and lowered her gaze. “You should not be so silly, Seijin. I am far too talk to be swept off my feet, I am afraid.” And a bit too cautious as well, especially given her past experiences. There would be no being swept away by some contrary or faithless man; she’d decided that much. “I will go to the feast with you, however, if you wish it.”

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Happily Plotting For

7 Years 3 Month and 19 Days

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