Log stolen shamelessly from Madri. Thank you!

Center of Fort Weyr's Bowl
Grey volcanic cliffs tower neckbreakingly steep to all sides of this gigantic
ovoid that is Fort's Bowl, creating a vast haven--stretching over three
thousand feet to the northeast and to the southwest--from the full impact of
the cutting mountain winds. To the northeast, dominating the rest of the
mountain range, looms the immensity of Tooth Crag; to the southwest, beyond
the lake, the crumpled rim reminds of a catastrophe from ages past.
The airspace above is comparatively crowded, whether by wings or singletons;
likewise, the packed earth and rock that grounds the Bowl sees virtually
constant activity, particularly just to the east where the living caverns
lie. Along the northern curve yawns the hatching grounds, and the lingering
reek of blood on the western breeze is a tell-tale pointer to the feeding
pens.
It is a fall evening. Strong winds pierce the clear sky.

Madri seems to be readying Elsveth for some sort of trip. Straps are already
secured, and there are several pouches attahced, albeit most look to be on
the empty rather than full side. She's dressed casually enough and there is a
certain lack of haste in her actions. One could even dare to say she's got a
smile happening as the last of the satchels are tied into place. Glancing up
she'll spy her daughter and wave her over, "Thari! There you are." She had
been just about ready to send off Talia in search of the girl, but evidently
the girl found them first.

Thari was, for the umpteenth time, hiking over to the Weyrling barracks, the
to the lake, then to the Sands, then to the Infirmary (Uncle T'jano is
hopelessly odd and does put her to work often), and then back. So on the
Infirmary-to-Weyrling barracks section of the endless jaunt, she did see
Elsveth. "Mama!" Thari calls, sending a grin to Elsveth. The grin dims
somewhat at the sight of the satchels. Another trip. Everyone gets to leave,
but Thari.

Except this time. The grin broadens and Elsveth will echo her rider's jovial
mood by fanning her wings in mock impatience and craning her neck out first
in greeting, second to usher Thari along. "If you don't hurry up, Elsveth is
going to leave us both behind." She pauses, thumping the greens hiding
thoughtfully, "Unless of course you'd rather stay behind and do..." Boring
stuff?" Madri raises an eyebrow mischeviously and leans in when her daughter
nears. "I've been in a mood to go to weaver for sevendays, care to come
along?"

"Going somewhere?" Thari looks at the dragon and reaches to brush whatever
part of green hide she might reach, as she cocks her head to her mother. "You
mean, me too? Get to go somewhere? Out of /here/?" Thari may never be a
dragonrider, because she's sure she never wants to spend another day, ever,
in a Weyr, ever again. Ever. "Really?"

"Well no, I thought I would just tease you about going somewhere." Madri winks
to her daughter despite Elsveth's move to ensnare the girl with her tail. Her
girl. /Her/ Thari. See the reproachful look Madri gets? Laughter follows and
Mom can't help but shrug, "Aye, I have a need to get out and away and have
some fun." She points up to the straps, "Get yourself up unless you want us
to leave you behind." Elsveth with keep her tail wrapped for another moment
or so, then encourage the oldest of Madri's children to mount up when ready.

Thari does! She launches toward the dragon straps with a sense of ownership
that came from long practice in a time that this Madri doesn't remember yet,
because for her, it hasn't happened yet. But Thari, who spent a lot of turns
climbing up Elsveth, does so and settles in in /her/ spot, reaching down to
hug the green dragon. "Weaver?" Doesn't matter. THey could be going to
shovel dung and as long as it was out of /here/, she'd be thrilled to do it.

You feel soft mental reassurance as you mount your dragon.
Elsveth(#440op)
Elemental wonder composes this young dragon's rugged, grey-green contours,
curving capability into the eager arch of neck, the flare of ribs. Smoothly
defined muscles convey haunches' resilient strength, shifting easily beneath
their veil of basalt-greyed beryl; that uneven camouflage extends even to the
precisely angled tips of her translucent wingsails. Only in winghooks and
talons does the pure sea-green shine through, echo of the complex geometries
of her crystalline gaze.

"Weaver! Unless of course you have a preference for somewhere else?" Madri is
of course just looking to nab some quality mother-daughter time in a place
away from all other interruptions, and really nothing says that more than a
trip away to do something fun among 'the girls'.

"Don't care! Away from /here/." Thari will double-check her straps because
she's been told to, and always does, because she tends to do as she's told.
"Away away away away! I don't care where we go or what we do, Mama. Just
away. I thought /you/ were going away again." No guilt-trip thrown there, no.
Hah! Thari loves her brother and sisters, but enough is enough and she's
missing her own studies, playing Auntie and parent, when her parents are gone
and busy.

Madri will make sure her daughter is wrapped up in the spare flight jacket she
brought along and once the pair are settled securely into place, Elsveth will
be given the go ahead to take flight and go between. As always that time in
utter blackness seems like an eternity, but when they do appear the sky will
be bright and weather significantly warmer. "Weaver!" There is a sense of
freedom that washer over the woman and she will open share this with her
daughter as she points downwards to their destination. "Can't have a harper
daughter of mind dressed in drab clothing." Again she passes a glance to
Thari and winks, allowing Elsveth to work her own magic in creating a smooth
and delicate landing for this girls' day out.

Thari hates that *between* business and she's always relieved that, in fact,
Reality Happens after that wicked darkness, stillness, lack of sensation.
"Clothes don't matter! And I'm not a Harper if I don't get Trained--" But
she'll stop at that, always thrilling to the motion of dragon movement and
the gradual loss of altitude. "Dad doesn't wear fancy clothes. He gets the
job done. And *I* help." Probably the key ingredient, in her father's
management of the Weyr, Thari's filing. She is ever so careful with it.
"Look! That's the Enlander camp! I lived there for a turn, Mama. Did you
know that?"

Madri cocks her head to one side and chuckles, "Aye, I believe it was
mentioned to me yes." Not one to mind the Enlanders, Madri's thought on this
experience was a good one for her daugther. Straps are undone and she'll be
off and at the ready should Thari need any help. The guess is not, but still
a loving parent will always be at the ready and Madri loves Thari beyond all
else... so to her daughter she watches and waits. "Yes well your father is
not exactly a harper, now is he? Never worry though, you will be trained soon
enough dear heart and part of a Harper's job is to /look/ the part." At least
that's her view on the matter.

Thari manages an 'off' about as well as she did 'on' and she'll stop to hug
Elsveth's foreleg, a habit of hers developed turns ago. "You're the best,
Elsveth." Xanth is kind of stand-offish and always in a twitter about his
gold mate. Thari grins up at the lovely green before she turns to her
mother. "Now then. I'm not going to get in trouble if they get dirty, these
clothes? Because," she murmurs with earnest sobriety, "They might. Get
dirty. I have been living at a Weyr, you know."

Elsveth thinks Thari is the best and will give her 'little one' an
affectionate blast of her that rouses the hair and sends a cascade of fresh
air about Thari. The green plays favourites too, and her two are present and
in attendance so all is well. Madri eyes her daughter suspiciously and perses
her lips together, "Well I don't expect you to wear all your new and good
clothing for doing dirty work. It's not like we're taking away your old
clothes." She'll motion inwards casting a glance to the hall, "I wonder if
Ezri is about." A weaver of some notoriety, the rider favoured her clothing
and use of colours.

"Who?" Thari reaches to knuckle the green lightly on the muzzle, then kisses
that away, lightly, before she'll arch an eyebrow over eyes her father's
exact shade, to the green, and turn to follow her mother. "Sounds like a
disease. Ezri. Man." Thari intones, "I went to the Healers today and he
put me in quaritine. Says I have ezri, need to be treated. It is, you know,"
her voice pitches lower and she grins, "Sometimes fatal."

Oh that does it. Madri turns on her daughter and steps closer waggling a
finger, "Careful who you tease daughter of mine, else I let her have her way
with your clothing and you'll be dressed in daught but the girliest of pinks
possible." Not to mention outfits too. Madri has some respectable sense of
style, though it runs the more subtle and classic and really, far too much
black these days. "Just because she's got a... rare name, doesn't mean she's
a woman to be triffled with." Another warning, if mischevious glance is given
Thari-ward.

"That like," Thari grins, "Truffling with someone?" She is, yes, spending far
too much time around T'jano and evidently it's a recessive gene, punning,
that was passed down through both her parents, unnoticed. "Seriously sweet,
isn't it, to truffle with someone?" Thari assembles her features into that
tweenish innocence that almost always works with her father. Then again, he
has only one eye.

Madri groans and makes a note to herself to talk with the greenriding uncle of
Thari's because really, who else would teach her such things? "Triffle." And
equally sweet depending on the ingredients. Then again Madri is a well
practiced Mom at this stage and she'll dare to tweak her daughter's nose in
passing, "Don't even go there or /I/ will dress you in pink frilly things
myself." And let Robbin see it. She'll cast that threat towards Thari and
step towards the hall with a wave of her hand, "Oh come on, how often do you
get a chance to dress your dear old mother?"

"Much better, I think, than dear old mother dressing me." Thari responds,
cheekily after a failed dodge for the nose-tweaking. She will step up to her
mother's side though, and dare to enter the Weaver's hall with more than just
curiosity. Whatever marks or importance that Madri carries is quite enough
for Thari as well. Shop on!