Welcome to Gaia! ::

You have arrived at the rooms of Remia, rider of green Trith. Remia has a small plaque hung up with a rhyming phrase that tells visitors to be respectful while they visit.

You may post here if you are a staff member Skies of pern, if you are an owner IC posting, or if you have prior permission from me. If these do not apply to you, please don't post. It's only polite.

The room is small, but it doesn't yet bother either of the pair, for neither of them are large. Yet. It is only one room, as you can see in the illumination of the glows just next to the door, but the imaginative use of fabrics creates spaces within the cavern.

Off to the right, there is the sitting area, which isn't much more than a rag-tied rug with a couple chairs and some pillows. It doesn't see much use, as the pair aren't in the weyr much, and they don't have many they call friend yet. When it is in use, the large bag of embroidery that is next to the most comfortable looking chair is generally the focus of the attention.

There is also a desk in this largest part of the room, with a top that shuts and locks, to keep any valuables safe. A glow basket is situated directly above it to provide optimal light for working. It is usually kept unlocked and open, as Remia doesn't have much that many would consider valuable. An inkpot and some parchment sit here, as well as a single book, bound shut with a leather tie. Just behind the desk, there is a small set of shelves that is mostly empty, but there are a few mementos. Some items bought at a gather, some pretty stones found while she was out gathering dye materials, the prize won at a contest when she was a child, etc.

In the back, there is a light blue curtain that stays closed when there are visitors, and that is where Remia and Trith sleep. There is a quilt attached to the wall that can be brought down, should Remia ever need to be warmer at night, but so far it has never been needed. There is also the chest which holds Remia's clothes. The sleeping furs are usually made, but can sometimes be seen to have been simply pulled up to cover the bed. A glow basket it also in this section of the room.

There is the opening to the Weyr bowl further back, and a curtain that is usually pulled back and tied divides the larger room from the ledge, where Trith can sun herself, if she chooses.

There is no attached bathing room, but that isn't a hardship, as Remia is used to getting up early for classes, both here and formerly at the Weaverhall.

~Name: Trith
~Age: Fledgling
~Color: Green
~Impressed to: Remia

~Personality: Trith is still an easy going creature-- for a green. She is interested in just about everything around her, and can often be found with her nose just about in whatever has currently caught her interest. She's excited about learning to fly, and looks forward to naps in the sun whenever possible... especially naps with Datiath around.

Remia turned her face into the pillow. Who in the world was up at this hour, making such a racket? As the noise continued, and she raised herself up to see just what the commotion was, the words pierced her sleep-fogged mind.

"Everyone out of bed, get dressed, and down to the sands! The eggs are hatching!" the candidate master called loudly, rousing the heavier sleepers nearby with shakes and shouting. Remia gasped, dashed the sleep from her eyes, and pulled herself out of bed, hoping she wasn't too far behind. As she did so, another noise filtered in through the sound of people talking excitedly and moving about to get ready.

The humming! That's the dragons!" Remia thought excitedly, and her breath caught in her throat as she fumbled at the leather catch on the trunk with her clothes. They'd each been given a set of white garments, little more than a large piece of cloth with a hole for the head and sewn together at the waist.

Remia pulled it from the chest, and shook it out of its folds, her Weaverhall trained eyes glancing over it. She was glad to see in her split-second examination that there were no creases in the fabric despite its storage. She had made sure to refold it daily, ignoring the mild teasing from some the other girls about her fussiness.

She glanced about, and saw that more than half of the other candidates were already dressing, and a couple had left, so she threw off her sleeping shift, not caring who saw what. This was a hatching! People should be concentrating on that, not on her!

Once out of her clothes, Remia pulled the soft white cloth over her head, settling it about her shoulders. She brought her hands up to free her hair from its captivity under the neck hole, shaking her head and finger-brushing it to settle the sleep-wild curls down.

She realized she was being nervously fussy, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Calm down, Remia. Remember, think positive, think of your beautiful hatchling and how wonderful it will be when you are together..."

Then she felt a hand on her back, and she was being pushed to the door, where she trotted down the hall unresistingly, if a bit distractedly. Her thoughts were speeding in circles, in a race with her heartbeat. It was like this that she moved through the tunnels with the other candidates, working on calming her nervousness that threaded through the excitement coursing through her. She saw the same expression mirrored on the other faces about her, causing her to wonder briefly who here would impress, who would be left standing...

Please, don't let me be left standing... she thought a bit desperately, then shook her head and made fists at her sides. No! I won't be left standing. I am Remia, daughter of Hegrin, and I can do anything I set my mind to! she told herself defiantly, and that emotion is what colored her face as she stepped out of the tunnel onto the hot sands.

It lasted only a brief moment as she realized just how hot the sands were, and Remia bit her lip to keep from wincing as the group was ushered out further onto the sands. Their arrival was accompanied by the sounds of the crowd noise and the thrumming of dragons. The deep, melodic sound made the air throb, and it was as if the mountain itself were celebrating the births of these tiny guardians.

Drinking in the sight and the experience of a lifetime, Remia felt the apprehension she had started out with -- the fear of failure -- melting away as her self-confidence grew. She could do no other than her best, and by the Egg, she wouldn't let anything keep her from doing just that! Somewhere on these sands was her partner, and she would find whichever fledgling it was.

Remia looked away from where she had been gazing up at the dragons and drawing strength from them, and down to the people seated in the bowl above. The heady feeling she was experiencing kept her from focusing enough to find anyone in particular, though she hoped her family was there somewhere... especially her brother, Tendor. Her gaze drifted down further, towards the objects of this event. The eggs were there, ahead of the candidates, and her eyes fixed on them.

They were familiar to Remia from the days of coming in with the other candidates to touch them, to familiarize themselves with the beings within. She recognized the mottled markings on several of them; they were the ones she had grown fond of, even if it was only her own fancy. They were all gently twitching as the fledglings fought their way free, dislodging bits of sand. She unconsciously mimicked their movements as she shifted from foot to foot in the hot Sands.

The Queen weaved her head over the eggs, hissing, keeping the candidates back from her eggs, at least for the moment. The huge great Gold was beautiful, gleaming in the light from the glows. Her eyes were red, whirling, and her tongue flickered out again and again in their direction. But Remia knew that wouldn't stop the inevitable, and she swallowed hard as first one, then another of the eggs increased their steady rocking. The humming drew to a fever pitch, and with a sound like the ground splitting, the first crack appeared in one of the eggs.

As if the first egg was a signal, the rest began to show signs of cracking. A split appeared in the top of one of them, a small hole was poked out of the side of another. Remia's eyes were drawn from one egg to the next, overjoyed at the hatching of these fledglings. She took a half-step forward, hand slightly outstretched towards them; a low cry escaped her, directed towards the eggs. She put every ounce of heart behind her thoughts of welcome, of joy, of excitement, and tried to put aside the last vestige of apprehension that clung to the back of her mind stubbornly.

The egg nearest her had split so that a great chunk of shell came from the side, and a green egg-wet leg and a tail emerged from the bottom. Inside, the little one continued to work on the egg, and after several more taps, another crack appeared on the opposite side. The sounds of hatchlings emerging surrounded the candidates. But Remia's eyes were focused on this one.

A great shove, and the egg split open, spilling the fledgling from its embrace. The small form flopped over backwards, then rolled over, struggling up with a creeling cry. Wet wings flapped weakly, and sand stuck to her body where she had lain in the hot sands. Her triangular head moved unsteadily about on the thin neck, as though the little green were looking for someone in particular, and it took a step first one way, then the other, uncertainly. Remia wondered desperately if she was the one being looked for.

Then, with a sharp cry, the infant lurched towards the Weaver girl clumsily. The movement was sudden, and little wings flapped to keep from bowling into the girl's legs. Such a blow would have taken her from her feet, even at the hatchling's young age. Remia reached down to steady the young one and as she did, her hazel eyes met a pair of large faceted ones gazing up at her, the action accompanied by a high-pitched croon. A feeling of joy suffused Remia, making her gasp with wonder. The joy was accompanied by an overwhelming love, unconditional and complete, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Remia felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she reached out a gentle hand to caress the wedge-shaped head as she sank down onto the hot sands, no longer even feeling them. Her arms encircled the small shoulders as she let tears of joy run down her face.

The large head bumped her own, and a thought intruded, one of hunger, painful stabbing hunger, and she clutched her own stomach, though she hadn't felt hungry just before-- Suddenly she realized it was the fledgling. Looking over at the shards of eggshell on the sands, then back at the little green, Remia silently promised the little one that they would get food as soon as possible.

[images]

She grew up in the Weaverhall, surrounded by dyes, wool, needles and thread, and her parents, of course, tried to keep all their kids in the family Craft. But when Remia was five or so, her brother announced that he was going to go to the Tannerhall to be apprenticed there. Her parents were upset, but gave it up after a lost cause after a few months of back and forth.

Finally, Tendor left for the Tanners, and her father exclaimed that "He'll be back, by the Egg! The Weavercraft is in his blood!" Too bad it didn't happen. Remia adored her older brother, followed him around everywhere, and was his ''little flit''. When he left, she was heartbroken, and because it was her brother's interest, she tried to learn as much about the Tanners as possible when he came home for visits.

The years went by, and she was Apprenticed at the Weavercraft, but she still holds an interest in the Tanners due to her brother. She was found on a Search not too long ago, and her Father was once again displeased about one of his children being ''lured'' away from the Weavercraft, though he takes it with good enough grace.

Remia doesn't mind being at the Weyr, even if it is nothing like the Crafthall. It''s made more bearable for her due to the fact that her sister Mimian is assigned to Rias Hold, so they can visit quite often.

Her brother, working under one of the Masters in the main Tannerhall, now makes sure that the best of the leather goes to the Weyr in the tithe, like it's supposed to, instead of a largish portion of it being held back for greater profit.

Dragonriders of Pern (and related) is (c) Anne McCaffrey. The Skies of Pern shop was created by Kolina, the art is (c) their respective artists as noted on certs/images or noted near them. The characters are (c) me, rimedragona. Layout for some journal posts borrowed from Mintaka and Naree! Thanks for the inspiration!