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Mei woke up shivering, her feet writhing beneath her too-thin blanket in an attempt to seek out the familiar warmth of her Weyrmate. It wasn’t until her searching limbs found nothing more than an expanse of cold sheets that she belatedly remembered that Hennory had taken an early watch shift that morning.

It was even more belatedly that Mei realized what the storm bell clanged ominously.

“Tes?”

It is not thread. We are all sure of that. But, everyone is waking.

The dragon could not remember all of the details of the earthquake that had caused such damage, but there was a resonation of unease in the face of natural disasters that spiked Tesrinth's mindvoice with alertness.

"It feels like a cold front blew in from -between- itself." Mei grumbled, snatching a pair of pants from the end of her cot and squeezing into them. It took a moment to realize they were Hennory's, and she threw them to the side with a huff before going off in search of her own.

I do not think cold fronts come from -between-. Tesrinth pointed out with great humor.

"Yeah, yeah... Are we being called to action for anything?"

Not yet, but I am listening for change.

Her hair was frizzed all about her head as she stepped out, fully clothed out onto the ledge, immediately glad for having donned her wherhide jacket because the wind blew little bites of cold into her face. Said bites stuck to her clothes and hair, giving her a reason for pause.

"Shells, Tesrinth! It's snowing.."

I haven't seen snow. The dragon snaked her head out next to her rider to offer her bodily support against the whipping winds as well as to test out these things known as 'snow', opening her great maw and catching the things in her mouth.

They don't taste like anything. The green stated, disappointed.

Mei laughed and mimicked the motion, finding that catching snow on her tongue was much more pleasing than getting slapped in the face with them. It was like getting slapped in the face with sparks from a fire, but cold instead of hot.

"I haven't seen snow before either, unless you count the mountains. We only ever fly over, though... come on, Tes. Let's get you strapped up. I get the feeling we'll be called out for one reason or another."

Even with the claxxon ringing, Mei couldn’t help but make a quick detour towards the kitchens. Tesrinth thought it all for the better that her rider opted to fill herself a metal canister of klah to keep her warm, because the green was keen to find her own source of warmth. Whatever people may say about dragons surviving just fine in winter, a dragon always was more content if they were warm.

It just so happened that the warmest places to perch where on the exterior of the hatching sands, which heated the stone outcroppings a few degrees hotter than the air. No doubt the Sand’s cliffs was a mosaic of multicolored hides.

Of course, this left Mei walking on her own, her metal mug swaddled in a cloth wrap to save her hands from a burn. Striding back across the weyrbowl, she spotted Ionan and T’rel. Or rather, T’rel and an oversized coat practically swallowing Ionan up. She chuckled to herself and waved at the pair across the way. “Hiyo there!”

Jasiline frowned out the window of her weyr as she threw on her riding jacket. At first a trickle of fear had brushed her spine when she'd seen the small particulate falling from the sky. With the recent quake her first thought had been of the volcano. They would have known if it had begun to erupt though, long before the resulting ash fell. Her second thought was thread. Crack dust. Black dust. But this was pure white, tiny and fluttering like motes of dust in a sunbeam.

It took her far too long to realize it was snow. By the time she was dressed she had gone from fearful, to confused, to flabbergasted. She mounted Voracath and within moments she and the brown were landing in the bowl. "Voracath! Direct the wings to standard hurricane procedures. All able bodied weyrfolk are to assist! Bring indoors whatever can be carried, lash down whatever cannot. Close storm shutters on all windows and make sure all seals are tight!" She hummed as she thought for a moment. "Better seal off the damaged parts of the weyr from the inside. Have people converge in the dining hall if they've no where else to go. It's warm and protected in there. Oh, and set a wing to check on the Holds and report back if they need assistance. Shore patrol as well, make sure all the ships are safely in port." She spoke out loud as she approached the group so the humans present could hear her orders even as Voracath's mental voice addressed the dragons of Ista.

"T'rel." Voracath stopped repeating her words as she spoke to the weyrlingmaster directly, offering a smile to Mei and ruffling Ionan's hair in an absent way when she got close enough. "Why the shells is it snowing in Ista? Have you ever seen this before?" She'd certainly not. Not in the valley her home hold had been in. Low in the tropical paradise that was Ista Island snow was a mere harper tale. "It is snow right?"

“Oh it’s snowing.” Daimon said languidly, as he emerged from the weyrling’s temporary barracks. He yawned; snow was nothing new to him, being from the far north. He didn’t even bother throwing a fur or his riding leathers on over his light long sleeve. He tended to run hot anyway, and this was hardly anything compared to the weather up there. Mask was no more impressed than him. Small as he was, the little bronze was more than used to flying in the wind and snow. Kleimeeth, on the other hand, found this turn of events infinitely amusing.

She pranced around, snapping at the white flakes, until Daimon (worried about her still-healing tail injury) made her stop. Still, when some small amount settled on the ground, she reared up on her hind legs and lunged forward at it.
“Kleimeeth, what did I just tell you?” Daimon snapped, but he was grinning. She looked just like a canine seeing snow for the first time.
What is it? What is it D’mon? It feels so strange.
“It’s snow.” Kleimeeth turned her head at him. Clearly the word meant nothing to her. “It’s the same thing as rain.” he told her. “Only colder.”

When Voracath relayed the message, Kleimeeth conveyed it as best as her limited attention span allowed. Do we count as ‘able-bodied’? she asked afterwards.
“Me, yes. You, absolutely not. I don’t want you straining yourself, Kleimeeth, you understand me? I don’t care if the weyrwoman herself orders you. No physical exertion. Got it?”
If the weyrwoman’s dragon ordered me, I wouldn’t have a choice. Kleimeeth pointed out.
“Okay, bad example.” Daimon admitted. Looking ahead, he noticed several adult riders standing in the bowl (although he failed to recognize the weyrleader among them). “I’d better go figure out what they want us to do.” he said.

He bit back the ‘Oi!’ he was about to yell at the group (See? He was trying) and shouted “Hey!” instead.
“Where do you want us to start?” he asked, directing the question to T’rel. He didn't know if weyrlings were responsibility for something specific during situations like these.

(Is Thali!)

"This is new to me," T'rel admitted, glancing about. He gave a shiver. "Mountains, yes. Here, no." Jasiline seemed to have settled into her position well, he noted, taking in her orders. "I don't know, Jasi. I've heard strange weather can happen before a storm, but I've never seen anything like this." He hesitated. "It's snow," he affirmed.

He glanced towards D'mon, considering the boy's question. Where did they start? There was so much to do! And he didn't like the idea od splitting up his weyrlings. He didn't think anyone should be alone in this weather. "Make sure the barracks are protected. Windows and any openings sealed." He paused, and then added, "Weyrlings will be bunking in the lower caverns until the storm ends." It was safer that way. The temporary weyrling quarters weren't made for the heavy winds of a hurricane. He took the proffered mug, taking a swallow. "Better," he said.

"Jasi!" Ionan smiled at the Weyrleader as she ruffled his hair. He was oblivious to the adults' worry. Snow was pretty! Cold, but pretty! "I've never seen it before!" He beamed up at Mei, hugging her.

"I'm getting bigger!" He informed her, as she picked him. He looked to the sky, in hopes of spotting Hennory's dragon. "T'rel'll be nicer now that he's had klah. It's cold and early." He grinned as he was set down, and instead of apologizing for his weight, took her hand. "It's pretty, Mei. But I want to help. Can I help?"

Taisuld.

The usual dawn warbles from the wherries near the kitchen windows were delayed. Tais woke sharply from a dream involving a ground nut dust and klah; for a long moment he lay abed, confused and more than a little disorientated. The thin light that shed through his room said it was not yet dawn, but he sensed he'd overslept a little. The aspiring chef and candidate sat up abruptly; recognising the sound of the storm warning bell and quickly brushing the sleep from his eyes. He'd gotten to the weyr only recently, apparently missing some of the worst earthquakes in a long while that Ista had suffered.

Tais didn't bother changing his shirt- he'd worn it yesterday and while it still bore flour handprints and smudges on it, he wasn't concerned. He shrugged into a warm vest and tugged his breeches on, tying them hurriedly. The head cook would have words if she'd known he overslept the morning shift until a warning bell. He smiled lightly at the idea of being scolded and considered dwardling just to see what she would say- but no, a storm could be bad for business.

He got to the kitchen at the same time as the apprentices, pleased that he wasn't late. He was here to impress the cook; never-mind the dragon riders or the dragons, this was a good chance to earn his own stripes and while he liked it when a sharp-tongued cook took to him for a lashing of their mind, he did need to behave until his position wasn't so shaky. After-all, who needed another baker when there was Thread falling and a dozen apprentices who would make-do?

Tais caught sight of the dreary world outside, not surprised that the wherries hadn't woken with the dawn, but shocked they'd been quiet at all; animals were so sensitive to the weather, how had they not sensed the approaching storm. He'd seen snow before, but he'd never really worried too much about it. Jobs and chores were issuing from every corner of the room and Tais was quickly ladened with a serving tray and a dozen mugs of klah to distribute to the weyr- they'd need something to wake them up and keep warm. He paused to sprinkle some nutmeg across the surface of the drinks for some added flavour before he whisked out of the kitchen with light baring.

The tricks to serving in a Hold and a Weyr, he believed, were simple enough; stay quiet, stay steady and appear when someone yawned. He made for the rider's bedding area, sweeping through with the ease of a servant. Hopefully the snow wouldn't lead to thread; but everyone seemed to be in a hurry to button down the hatches- Tais scratched his head in curiosity as everyone hurried to bring in the live-stock, talking about the storm on-coming. He was sure someone had said something about it in the kitchen; but really, he hadn't been listening.

The teen dodged out of the way of an opening door as a rider rushed past him and he caught sight of a group of riders all congregating in the Weyrbowl. Now, he paused, not sure if he should take his tray of drinks in that direction or not- there were places the crafters, even those with fresh, hot klah, were not supposed to go. He was standing in the doorway now, not quite blocking it but puzzling over this dilemma- would bringing the gathered and important souls out there their measly kick-starting drink be a breach of etiquette?

"Damn, I should have listened during the tour," But he'd been thinking of a gravy- a spiced gravy, with green vegetables for a new type of eel or wherie pie. What had it been...?

Tais was spacing out, standing in the doorway with all the sweet timidness of a new servant; the spiced klah steaming in mugs on a tray.