Post by Tig on Dec 26, 2015 1:27:17 GMT
Njord, Rae
Two figures made their way into the Dining Hall in the early morning hours. The drudges, cook, and certainly the esteemed Headwoman Laera were all still asleep. In fact, it would be surprising if any were awake but these two. One giggled childishly as the other nudged him sharply in the ribcage.
"You are acting like an unpracticed Weyrling! Shards man, get it together, you are the Weyrleader now," hissed a melodious, distinctly feminine voice. The other person giggled still harder as he ran along in the darkened room, and there were faint clanks and rustling noises to be heard.
"You're making too much noise," moaned the previous feminine voice accusingly.
"And you're not, with all the talking you're doing? I swear you don't know how to whisper. You Harpers are all alike -- booming voices to be heard across a room. Not good for pranking. Not good at all."
"What?" queried the female.
"Never mind," hissed the male a little louder. He clanked, clunked and there were a few angry animal squawks.
"How did you manage to get the wherries anyway?"
"Ah, a Weyrleader is permitted everywhere, my dear Oakley," K'lian said, waggling his brows outrageously before forgetting that in the scant light, the other rider probably couldn't see him.
"By the first Shell, what were they thinking when they went and made you Weyrleader anyway?" groused Oakley. She would never be heard when others were around saying such. She had too much respect for her friend. But she could and would tease him about it heartily when they were alone. The two of them had gotten to know each other in the past sevendays and months of preparing the Weyr for habitation, and to the delight of them both, had discovered a mutual affinity for trouble-making.
"It's all Zira. Trust me," K'lian said. His tone shifted before he spoke again. "Okay. I think I'm ready to release the wherries."
"Laera's gonna kill you, you know."
"And you!" retorted the Weyrleader, "I'M Weyrleader. You're only a Purplerider!"
"Only?!" scoffed the Purplerider indignantly. Indeed, their voices were climbing in volume, so clamorous in fact, that they were in danger of being caught.
Mine. WHAT are you doing? Apparently the great Silver had awakened from his slumber next to his Queenly mate. He lifted his head from hers begrudgingly, an almost canine growl pulsing in his draconic throat.
"Faranth," K'lian said, "Krauth's awake. He'll tattle on me to Quiroth, and then Zira'll find out." He sounded for all the world like a winy child who was caught with his hand in the cookie dish.
"Release the wherries and RUN!" screamed Oakley, prompting her companion to drop the cage, unhook the latch and take off running and screaming from the room. "K'lain! WAIT!" The Purplerider shot after him, "I'M NOT GOING DOWN ALONE!" As they escaped into the dimly-lit corridor, the crazed flapping of five or so wherries could be heard behind them. Both were laughing now as they ran. Above them, Green and Purple blurs flew, chittering their laughs as well. The pair of fire-lizards were always willing accomplices.
Two figures made their way into the Dining Hall in the early morning hours. The drudges, cook, and certainly the esteemed Headwoman Laera were all still asleep. In fact, it would be surprising if any were awake but these two. One giggled childishly as the other nudged him sharply in the ribcage.
"You are acting like an unpracticed Weyrling! Shards man, get it together, you are the Weyrleader now," hissed a melodious, distinctly feminine voice. The other person giggled still harder as he ran along in the darkened room, and there were faint clanks and rustling noises to be heard.
"You're making too much noise," moaned the previous feminine voice accusingly.
"And you're not, with all the talking you're doing? I swear you don't know how to whisper. You Harpers are all alike -- booming voices to be heard across a room. Not good for pranking. Not good at all."
"What?" queried the female.
"Never mind," hissed the male a little louder. He clanked, clunked and there were a few angry animal squawks.
"How did you manage to get the wherries anyway?"
"Ah, a Weyrleader is permitted everywhere, my dear Oakley," K'lian said, waggling his brows outrageously before forgetting that in the scant light, the other rider probably couldn't see him.
"By the first Shell, what were they thinking when they went and made you Weyrleader anyway?" groused Oakley. She would never be heard when others were around saying such. She had too much respect for her friend. But she could and would tease him about it heartily when they were alone. The two of them had gotten to know each other in the past sevendays and months of preparing the Weyr for habitation, and to the delight of them both, had discovered a mutual affinity for trouble-making.
"It's all Zira. Trust me," K'lian said. His tone shifted before he spoke again. "Okay. I think I'm ready to release the wherries."
"Laera's gonna kill you, you know."
"And you!" retorted the Weyrleader, "I'M Weyrleader. You're only a Purplerider!"
"Only?!" scoffed the Purplerider indignantly. Indeed, their voices were climbing in volume, so clamorous in fact, that they were in danger of being caught.
Mine. WHAT are you doing? Apparently the great Silver had awakened from his slumber next to his Queenly mate. He lifted his head from hers begrudgingly, an almost canine growl pulsing in his draconic throat.
"Faranth," K'lian said, "Krauth's awake. He'll tattle on me to Quiroth, and then Zira'll find out." He sounded for all the world like a winy child who was caught with his hand in the cookie dish.
"Release the wherries and RUN!" screamed Oakley, prompting her companion to drop the cage, unhook the latch and take off running and screaming from the room. "K'lain! WAIT!" The Purplerider shot after him, "I'M NOT GOING DOWN ALONE!" As they escaped into the dimly-lit corridor, the crazed flapping of five or so wherries could be heard behind them. Both were laughing now as they ran. Above them, Green and Purple blurs flew, chittering their laughs as well. The pair of fire-lizards were always willing accomplices.
