|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:12 am
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:14 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:14 am
The weyr
Right now Verianne lives in the Candidate Barracks rather than an actual Weyr. She lives simply; she has a bed, a trunk full of clothes, and a pile of papers scattered as much as she can get away with.
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:15 am
The Flits
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:16 am
Important Dates (OOC)
01/31/2010 : Verianne was applied for. 02/01/2010 : Verianne was Approved. 0/0/2010 : Journal set up!
Important Dates (IC)
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:20 am
Roleplay History
Looking Good : + Yulu Gathering Threads : + Folen
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:21 am
Gallery
There are no real images of Verianne yet!
[ToC] [Verianne] [The weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:24 am
+1 for luck!
[ToC] [Verianne] [The Weyr] [The flits] [Important dates] [Roleplay History] [Gallery] [+1]
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 10:05 pm
REFLECTIONS
Her first day in the Weyr had been simple enough. She dismounted from the dragon, and was whisked into the care of the Candidatemaster of Telgar Weyr. He was cool, but pleasant enough. And the facts were laid out for her clearly. While she was here, in Telgar Weyr, she was not a Tailorcraft Apprentice anymore. She was not Verianne anymore. She was a Candidate, and her duties would be what he told her. Typically, she was assured, the chores were diverse. Laundry, mending, cleaning, cooking, latrine duty, shoveling wherry dung and even babysitting. She may have the opportunity at some points, should she show aptitude, to assist the Weyrharper; that task was highly unlikely and normally given to Harper Apprentices.
Age was not regarded as he turned, scowling. Sexual intimacy was strongly discouraged, and if she was fool enough to get with child, she would be immediately stripped of her Candidacy and returned to the Hall. If she acted badly, it seemed the same thing would occur. There were apparently enough Candidates for the little gold anyways, they weren't going to pause to consider one little girl in the bigger scheme of things.
She had been allowed the rest of the day to arrange her things and get comfortable. The next day would be the Touching; she had arrived just in time. She'd been provided a clean white robe for the Hatching, and the majority of the wardrobe she'd brought was able to fit into the chest at the end of her bed. Well, that was a positive, for all that she'd culled her clothing options in half simply to come here in the first place.
Sitting on the end of her bed, she stared at the wall and thought. She had come here to become a dragonrider. Why? What was her motivation? Had she really been under the impression that this would be easy, and that becoming a rider meant that she would be able to spend more time focusing on other things. When she was a child she'd been a regular little tomboy. And then her mother had impressed upon her the importance of being a lady. It had taken a while.
And from it had come something she'd never expected! Still, that was reminiscing for another day, perhaps. Instead she sat there, mind blank. It was never quiet, not since she had arrived here. In the background she could hear footsteps, and the cries of dragons. Cooing of the little flits that seemed to be so prolific. The noise of other people in the rooms near her own. With a sigh she brushed her red hair back from her face, resting her slightly broad chin and thin cheek against a half-balled fist, relaxing and trying to adjust her mind to the rules and regulations of this new home of hers.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 10:38 pm
THE TOUCHING
Verianne was slow, somber as she bowed to the Queen dragon and slipped towards the eggs.
The Grey Speckled Egg was first for her, and she smiled as she relaxed slightly. So tired, it almost struck her as laid back. Hopefully, the dragonet within was not just lazy. That would be no good, considering whatever lay within was a fighting dragon.
She moved over to the Streaked Sky Egg next, running her hands over the rough outer shell. It was pretty enough, and the color was gorgeous. Even though it sent forth a feeling of distaste, it didn't deter her. And the feeling of avoidance of the other egg made her smile, lean in closer to it.
Next, naturally, the Pink Charcoal Egg was approached. This one was too friendly. Too involved. If the dragonet within chose her, what if it made her be sociable? She wrinkled up her nose. Well, she guessed she wouldn't mind too much. The dragonet could be the social one, and she could sit back and sketch. Or do what all weyrlings supposedly did and oil the heck out of it.
Letting go of the egg, she moved for the main group. Hello, Three Spots Egg. Nice to meet you. Small, rough hands stroked the deeply colored shell. And her face broke into a smile. It was a feeling of amusement, that seemed to transfer to her. But what was it amused by? And why was it laying on its side like that? She tsk'd, very lightly tapping the egg with her fingertips. Would this one be a jokester, or was it just unlucky enough to keep falling onto its side? Hopefully it would have a better sense of balance when hatched!
Next was the Spicy Red Egg. And certainly, spicy it seemed to be! Nothing vicious in the sensation she got as she touched it, just impatience. still, it didn't feel right for her, so she removed her hand quickly. She wouldn't touch the Queen egg yet; save the best for last, wasn't it?
Blue Earth Egg it would be. She reached out, fingers stroking along the area where the blue met the green. Earth and Water. As she touched it, she thought she felt a kicking inside, but nothing more. Like a thumping, a pulse or a heartbeat. And what might this one be? It took her a moment to let go of it, reluctantly.
On to the New Grass Egg. Again, she didn't get too much of a sensation from it. It was almost eager, too eager. It startled her a bit. Spotlight... was nice enough, she supposed. Or maybe (and this thought perked her up) it was an informer for its future Queen, whispering in her ear the things it knew. The thought almost made her giggle, but she caught herself in time. This was her second day at the Weyr, and she didn't want to get kicked out for screwing up already.
And then the Orange Stripe Egg. It felt unhappy, an impression that other Candidates around her seemed to catch as well. Not that it was something bad... still, she left its side quickly to stare at the goal of her journey here.
And she continued to watch it, gnawing uncertainly on her lower lip.
Finally she stepped forward, her grey eyes on the Golden Stag Egg. She closed her eyes, breathed out, and placed her palms on the reddish-gold shell. So calm. So accepting. It was not what she had been expecting, not with the whispers she had heard of the older Telgar golds. She had been expecting a feeling more fierce. More determined. Not something so relaxed. Huh. One pale cheek was pressed ever-so-gently against the hard shell.
Verianne finally stepped away from the clutch, giving a final bow to the golden Queen on the sands. As she walked away, they Weyrwoman and her Weyrleader both got a shy little smile. Stepping off the sands was stepping onto something cold and unfeeling. Now, the afternoon of her second day at the Weyr was going to be spent in the latrines, followed by kitchen work in the evening.
She would need to stop off at her room to get her gloves and to change... walking away from the Sands, she almost skipped, oddly perked up by the morning she'd had.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|