Stranded on the Starstones

Xanadu Weyr - Star Stones

Looming up above the weyr stand the spindly spires called the Starstones. Jagged grays and brown are stately, if a bit dull and uniform. These rocks have stood for as long as records stretch, being used by millions of dragons across time and space to come home, or to herald the coming of Thread by the circular hole drilled there by the first people of Pern. As the Red Star creeps across the sky, an enemy still very real, if perhaps just a memory now, to line up with the circle and sing of the Pass' beginning.

There is room here for a few dragons to land although there is no shelter for man or beast. It is a magnificent prospect out over the weyr and across the lake, the sky often occupied by dragons and firelizards, many flitting in and out of *between*.

The star stones might not be the most popular place to lounge during dinner, but they seem to work well enough for Rhasmir. The patchy sky overhead is pleasant, if not as perfect as a cloudless sky, as the sun's glow starts to leave the sky and the stars come out. It's pretty, breezy, and a little bit on the cool side (okay, maybe more, but not if you ask no-coat there), but the breeze and chill make for space to lounge and…work? It appears that that's what Rhasmir's doing, sprawled against one of them with a wide array of equiptment spread around him. One side holds a saddle and various bits of runner-tack and oil, the other, what appears to be a taken-apart guitar. A glow, too, is positioned conveniently — apparently somebody listens when the aunties tell him he'll go blind working in the half-dark. The lad is eyeing the neck of the taken-apart guitar closely, muttering darkly to himself. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to what was a lovely sunset; go figure. The layabout's late working on something, you could bet on it! But at least he seems to have found a nice place to do it? Firelizards scamper overhead on the breeze, occasionally earning a quick glance, but other than the occasional drifting avian, they seem to be the only thing around.

Avaeth wings up onto the star stones, on her back is Zevi who is carrying a light with her. The gold lands with a slight grace that's be practiced, and with a rumble, she crouches so that her rider may dismount. Zevi is off in a moment, smiling at her lifemate before she's turning that light on and eyeing Rhasmir as he's settled there, with a frown she tilts her chin up slightly. "What are you doing here?" She questions as Avaeth does attempt to peek at him closely, but after a moment, the gold is taking off into the sky on her own.

The snap of wings flapping again stirs the evening's peace, claws scrabble and there's a gold landing on the far edge of the firestones. Thea dismounts from the far side, over the sheer drop to the Weyr's floor. She grabs the flight straps, kicks a leg over the top of Seryth's back and pushes off in a wide, swinging arc that brings her round the front of the gold and back over the safe footing of the starstones to land lightly on her feet. There's a cheerful note to her voice as she hums, pats Seryth and turns to head for the spires. She blinks. Zevida's here and… there's a person crafting here - of all places. "Uh, Rhasmir? Didn't really… expect to see you of all folks up here." A tiny frown of confusion forms on her brow. "You know we have craftrooms for this sort of stuff?" Seryth, meanwhile, drops off the stones and glides down to the sands.

Rhasmir doesn't really look up at the sound of dragons arriving, and is quiet for a long moment after he's asked a question. Muttering something along the lines of 'mum's going to skin me if I get this wrong', he carefully taps a bit of metal into a slot on the fingerboard of the guitar's neck, eyes wide and wary. But when he has to reach for snips to cut off the wire, there's the immediately damning sight of not one but two gold dragons drifting off — and two dragons were the number that arrived. Leaving the unanswered question to have come from, of course, a goldrider. The lad's expression freezes for the merest of moments like a herdbeast before a dragon, and then he's blinking over at a more familiar face, wincing. "Uh," Smartly. To Zevida, a sheepish, "Evening, rider. I'm just getting some busywork done. Being cooped up inside's not really for me." The last is directed partially towards Thea, as both of them are awarded with a bright smile, now that he's got his wits back.

Zevida eyes Rhasmir, quirking a brow up. "And.. You know it's winter, right?" She questions slowly, but, she dismisses it as Thea arrives and she's looking at the other junior with a smile. "I hope you and what's his name made up." Before, she's moving away from the other woman and settling up against the wall. A glance upwards before she's smiles, only slightly. Then, Rhasmir is the focus of her attention again as she looks him over once more. "Where are you from? What is your job here?"

Thea glances at Zevida with a bit of a surprised look before her lips curve into a bit of a smile and that 'ah ha' look in her eye as she nods briefly, then it's back to the perplexity of a Rhasmir in his very own outdoor craft shop with air conditioning and a one-way ticket Between if he should mis-step. She follows Zevida to hunker down on the other side of Rhasmir, tilts her head to await the profundity that he will enlighten them with should he care to explain the bizarre notion of freezing his butt off while crafting. "Comfortable seats up here too," said dryly and with sage nod. Good thing she's wearing her flight leathers and boots tonight. "How'd you plan to get back down?" Not asking how he got up. Not even going there.

Rhasmir's smile for Zevida is bland as he plucks his vest. "Aye. It's not so cold. Stuffy inside though, you know." It's not despairing, but pleasant — obviously, working on a little spit of rock is…fun? Of course. The talk of whats-his-name flies right over the young man's head, as he carefully rasps the edges of metal down, before setting down the neck and carefully straigtening his supplies. "Trader caravan, not really from anywhere." Is his explanation, given with another serene grin. Thea's is closer to impish; she gets the briefest of smirks. "Uncomfortable, yeah. But quiet, eh? I hadn't gotten that far, though." Does he wince just a touch there? Probably. Oops. "What are you ladies out for in the cold?"

Zevida chuckles softly, nodding her head at that smile. There's nothing more to say on that subject as she stretches out her legs to listen to Rhasmir. There's a slight grin as she awaits the answer, "oh, very. We should see about putting some real seat up here if we're going to be entertaining people up here.." She muses with a hint of sarcasm. Thea's question has the woman eyeing Rhasmir all the more. "Hm.." But, she's nodding her agreement, staring at him before she answers. "Looking at the sky. This is the best spot."

Thea has to agree with the stuffy rooms and she's nodding about that. "Not anymore, though, huh?" Her impish grin right back holds a bit of satisfaction, wonder why? Casually, "Not from anywhere presently, no." Her eyes sharpen just a tad, "Who's caravan exactly?" Her eyes have a lazy, could-really-care-less expression, perhaps feigned, perhaps not. As to his exit she muses absently, "Watchrider would've found you in the morning, likely." After an uncomfortably cold night. "Healers might not have been able to do much for ya though." She doesn't answer as to what she's doing up here. Hot sands not being to blame or anything. She nods to Zevida's comment, "And add a firepit or something." To keep certain folks from freezing to death up here.

Rhasmir quirks a bright grin. "But then where would I work?" It's woebegotten in theory alone, it would seem, as he peers up at the Goldrider curiously and without any pouting. "The sky. Well, I guess you're right, there. Not from your dragon, though?" An eyebrow is lifted just slightly, before he's smirking at Thea. "No, not any more." He agrees, glancing back out over the Weyr "Family caravan. They can cover more ground if they leave me to do business." Because who wouldn't buy something from this guy? He's perfectly trustworthy, honest. His eyes widen a touch, and there's a glance between the pair of them, eyes then narrowing a touch. "Huh. Is that so." Admit he was dumb? Pffft. "Well, it's perfectly warm /so/ far…"

Zevida chuckles at Thea, "And that too. Should help keep it a bit warm." She nods in agreement before tilting her head towards Rhasmir. "You're liking the quiet, then?" She asks, chuckling. "You could.. I don't know, find another secret spot." She retorts.. Then, she's looking at Rhasmir frowning warily. "What caravan? What family name?"

"They do say that the folks in the midst of freezing to death feel warm," Casual, offhand. Thea does nod in response to the other, though. "Sometimes, yes adragonback to see the sky is nice. But other times… less wind is nicer. The younger wyewoman's eyes narrow just a tiny bit at the smooth evasion Rhasmir executes, "Family name being, what exactly?" She speaks at the same time Zevida does, so she pauses to hear the answer to this. Hmmm…

Rhasmir is surrounded, surrounded! And with no likely rescue, unless that friendly bluerider decides to check and make sure her new friend isn't being devoured by a pair of crazy goldriders…alas, no dice. "Quiet is nice, had to do a bit of fixing up that guitar, done now. Figured I'd bring the tack up for an oil while I was up here. But, do they? Well, that's comforting. I guess a lack of wind could be a good thing; don't see how you lot don't faint in the air, anyways." There's a brief, impish grin for the pair, before he's eyeing them curiously for their wariness. "Calmir family. Deal mostly in guitars and a few other instruments, starting to get more into the runners though. Got a herd of draft runners." It's supplied with a nosewrinkle and a flap of a hand. "Nothing interesting, really. They sing sometimes."

Zevida quirks her brow at Thea, chuckling softly. "Since when did you become a healer?" A chuckle as shifts that gaze towards Rhasmir, colder as she examines him. "Don't faint in the wind? The wind isn't harsh, at least I haven't noticed. Riding, you don't notice." AS the family name is given, she nods slowly. "Alright then. You're welcome here."

Thea relaxes as well, suspicion apparently forgotten as her attention turns to Zevida, "Can't grow up back of High Reaches Hold without hearing that one." She snorts gently, "Ma always said if your're warm and sleepy get indoors." She headtilts at Rhasmir, "Your… draft runners… sing." Flatly said with faint disbelief. The young man gets a squint, "How long've you been up here?" Oh! Oh! She has another question! "And do all these singing draft runners refuse saddles too?" Sweetley and innocently the question comes.

Rhasmir's grin is back, mystified as it might be. "You don't notice? Shells. Well, if not the wind, the height. The height doesn't bother you? Shells. At least here you're still…connected to the ground." Nod-nod-nod, unashamedly. "Thanks." A quick smirk, before he's eyeing Thea warily. "I hope to never go anywhere near the 'reaches. Too sharding cold. Too sharding cold at Fort, I don't want to know how bad it is there." There's a brief pause, in which he's staring blankly at the goldrider, before reckognition sparks and he hovers for a moment, teetering — "They sing." He answers solemnly. "Not near long enough to go wherry-brained. They shardin' well do, wouldn't you know it?"

Zevida chuckles, "I see, never been to High Reaches. From Igen." She grins before she's eyeing Rhasmir as if fully understanding /what/ he just said. "They sing?" A look at him before she's looking at Thea. "What are you talking about? Runners /don't/ sing." Blank look from the woman, "you're both out of your minds, shells."
Thea's lips quirk with amusement, then Zevida's got her chuckling and she just shakes her head, not saying anything more about singing runners. Instead, she shrugs, "You get used to the height." (says she who looks at the trader choosing to work atop the highest place in the Weyr) There's a bit of a shudder then, "Insane to ride a critter who isn't mindlinked to ya." But she doesn't go on with that, instead she's picking up on something else, "Fort, huh? Born there or been there?" Just simple curiosity there.

"Properly warm, Igen." Agrees Rhas, before winking and waving a hand. "Nah." He laughs, "Not unless you make 'em really mad, but if they kick you it doesn't really count as them signing, it's in your head…" Apparently amused with himself, he chuckles for a moment, before eyeing the pair of them like they might be tainted or diseased. "You get used to it." Drawled in disbelief, the lad shakes his head. Riiight. "Hmmm." Dubious still on the second, he snorts. "You dragonrider types. All the same. All of you." They both get a grin, here, as he stretches and leans against the rocks, crossing his arms. "Met a man once, terrified of getting off the ground. But boy did he love to fly!" Eyeroll, but then another grin. "Visited."

Zevida smiles, "flying is great." She states, blissfully, "the height is amazing." A slow grin before she nods her agreement to Thea. "Can't see why you'd want to ride a runner." A pause, "'specially not after /that/ incident." Towards Rhasmir, she lifts her brows. "Right." He's given a /look/ at the comment about dragonriders being all the same. "Strange man. I'm not afraid of heights." Or anything.

Thea smirks. Afraid of taking off but loves to fly? "Is he related to X'hil?" In that case, not surprising. Thea's voice is dry, "Oh, yeah, we're all totally alike, certainly." To Zevida, "-Want to- being the critical words there. I never -wanted to- in the first place." There's a philosophical shrug then, "It was actually Seryth's idea." And brief pause and a very thoughtful moment later, "I think she was just looking for an excuse to eat another runner." Her eyes scan the darkening sky for a moment before returning to Rhasmir. Casually, "So, how long you staying? Or are you?"

Rhasmir's expression is priceless — he flinches as if kicked in the face at mention of height, but catches it after a moment and grins instead, though it's pained, indeed. "Amazing." He repeats, a touch strangled, with something that could possibly be a smirk, but is more a grimace. "Runners aren't complicated. You take care of 'em, earn their trust, they trust you. And," Here he regains his smugness, with a grin. "They smell nice and aren't in your head all the time. They're not bad, you know." But they're just determined to let the air out of poor put upon old Rhasmir, and he's once more eyeing the two women warily after a moment. But maybe he's getting wiser, as he apparently decides not to pursue the 'all alike' line of thought, instead snickering faintly after a brief pause. "Another runner? Shells, she make a habit of eating 'em?" A wince. Sure, eating bovine is just fine, but Runners? Nooo! He's thoughtful for a moment, at the next, glancing out over the Weyr thoughtfully. "Dunno. I like it here." Grudgingly, but there's hesitance. "Nice to rest."

Zevida laughs at that, grinning after. "That man is afraid of everything, isn't he?" She looks almost wicked at that statement, perhaps ready to cackle even. "Ah, I see.. Seryth liked the taste, then? Avaeth doesn't enjoy eating runners." A pause, "just squishing them." A glance towards Rhasmir at his dismay, "nah, the dragons don't eat runners much. Unless they cause problems."

It's Thea's turn to look smug (tho it's really directed at poor Rhasmir) as she answers Zevida, "She likes the taste better than bovine. And wherries." There's a nod to the man then, "Handier to have 'em in your head sometimes, tho." She doesn't go into that though. "It's late," She stands, stretches and steps towards the end of the stones, turning back to face the pair midway there, "What do you think, Zevida, could find him a place on staff, if he's wanting to rest awhile?" It's a question, left open-ended for either of them.

Rhasmir makes a decidedly undignified face at Zevida, all but sticking his tongue out and blowing a raspberry. "Hmph!" He huffs, but grins all the same, rolling eyes skyward. Women! He's still blanching, though, as they go on on the subject of dead runners, wincing delicately. "Squish." Repeated weakly, eyes narrowing warily at Zevida. Who knows when the crazy goldriders are teasing! "My best guitar I swear for a shoulder of wild ovine." Murmured wistfully, before there's a thoughtful glance between them again, this time not as wary. "Is it?" Curiosity, here, but not much understanding. "But they…can hear everything you think?" Still, he's nodding in agreement to the 'it's late', wrinkling his nose and opening his glow a bit more. At the last, though, his eyes narrow and brows lift curiously. "Hmmm?"

Zevida grins at Thea, nodding her agreement. "Always know where the other is. Can see through their eyes, just as well." There's a soft sigh and she pauses. "On staff? Sure. Make him Steward and give him paperwork. I'm sure the Headwoman would love him." And then she's rising, moving over to the ledge where Avaeth snuck up (yes, the stealthy gold). She's moving over and patting the gold lovingly before mounting up. "You can block your thoughts, have to if you don't want them constantly stressing. Take care, Rhasmir." And, the pair is off to who knows where.

"They don't panic and tear off at silly things, either." Thea adds before Zevida's mentioning a job. She appears to seriously consider this, "Steward. Let us know if you're interested." Then she dismisses the question with a flick of her fingers and a shrug, "Up to you." Seryth isn't quite so sneaky as she wheels in sight overhead, her belly caught by the glow's light, swooping with a curve to alight on the spot vacated by Avaeth just a moment ago. Thea grabs a strap, puts a foot on Seryth's foreleg, the queen assists with a boost as Thea springs off it to lightly vault-pull herself aboard. "See ya!" And they too are gone, leaving poor Rhasmir to find his own way down.

Rhasmir is left eyeing the 'stones around him with a vaguely mystified expression, shaking his head vaguely. "Women." He mutters to himself. "You two'd better hope Alli remembers I'm up here. Not that they could stay around and talk when they try and tie you down to something, old boy. Nah. Women. Shells." Mutter mutter mutter goes the lad, opening his glow a touch more and setting to the task of putting the guitar back together. Eventually he'll be rescued by said bluerider, but he might have even learned a lesson? …or possibly not. Who knows.

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