Straight blond locks shine, freshly washed, framing an ovular face. Light brown lashes rim wide, pale green eyes with an air of innocence. Or naivete -- take your pick. That is, until she smiles, eyes looking 'demurely' down, half-veiled by those long lashes in an utterly coy expression. Other times, she is sunshine itself, red lips curving in a wide, bubbly smile as she gushes over one thing or another. But at first unnoticed sight, she remains a cherub grown up. Although not delicate featured, there is something both pert and graceful about the way she carries herself. A slender body with just enough curves seems to have just missed the coltish stage of many a youth.

A mist green sun-dress, just a shade lighter than her eyes, fits loosely below the waist, softened swirls emphasizing the gentle curves beneath. Thin straps cross slender shoulders above a rounded neck and then tie behind. She wears a pair of tan sandals with three thin straps around her ankles. Her hair is swept up atop her head with three plaits and a sandstone clip, a few liberated tendrils falling in soft wisps.

(Sarilee) "Because," K'mra explains patiently, "because I've tried to tell her, and I'm thinking that perhaps she'll recieve the information better from someone other than me." Her logic doesn't always work out, of course - but that's not too surprising. "You'll tell her, please?" she entreats.

(Sarilee) R'il just nods, woodenly, that is. "Uh, of course." Pity, that's it. Pity for his wingleader prompts him to actually confront someone else. He pauses, then asks catiously, "Do you think she'll take it well from me? Being just graduated and all."

(Sarilee) K'mra assures, "Of course she will." Anything's better if it's not from Kym, of course. A pause, and she considers, "Of course, it might help if ye've got one of these..." Brownrider rummages around in her pockets, scowling at the ground. "Ach! Where'd it get to..." At last, she pulls something from her riding jacket's front pocket, examining the contents of her palm. "Hmm, yes, this'll do." Bypassing any pomp and circumstance, she tosses over the wad of string and cord: a knot. A big one. A Wingsecond's, to be exact.

(Sarilee) R'il gapes. "But...are you sure? I mean, there are more senior members of the wing, and I did get scored on my second time in Threadfall...," he protests, holding the knot tentatively in his hands.

(Sarilee) Sarilee sniffs suddenly, eyes slowly opening as one finger traces across her chin, catching a little trail of drool. Seeing others awake, her eyes go stark wide, back stiffening, and a little crimson flush crosses her cheeks. Oh no, she was /drooling/. But then, maybe no one noticed, since something does seem to be going on.

(Sarilee) "I'm positive," K'mra assents with a slight grin. "Your scores were hardly your fault, R'il," she informs. "We saw what happened - I did, at least." Here, a hint of frown touches at lips -- she shrugs it off, however, and continues. "Besides, I got scored on my /first/ Threadfall."

(Sarilee) R'il nods politely and offers, "Many weyrlings do...practice is so much different from the reality of Threadfall afterall." Trying to make his wingleader feel better? You betcha.

(Sarilee) Sarilee rubs the back of one hand across her eyes, peering with open curiosity at R'il and K'mra. At last, it seems, her eyes take in the knot and she asks, "Is that yours?" Her voice, slightly groggy from sleep, is won over by youthful innocence, as opposed to the maturity of her training.

(Sarilee) K'mra dryly agrees, "Indeed. So it is." Especially if one's scared stiff. "Viewing the Red Star was /such/ a sight - and not altogether welcome." Here, she quips a strained smile, which brightens as she resumes, "Windscorcher is honored to have you as one of the Wingseconds, R'il. Clear skies."

(Sarilee) R'il smiles. "Thank you, WingLeader. Clear skies," he intones dutifully and honestly before he turns back to admiring his knot. Wow, WingSecond.

(Sarilee) Apparently, though, Meri is sleeping, lips incline towards a pout, before K'mra nods in response to Sarilee's queries. "Mm. Yes. We viewed it from Telgar, I do believe." And afterwards, many of the riders - K'mra, included - managed to get quite drunk.

(Sarilee) Sarilee nods slowly, "That seems so frightening!" Then, glancing over at R'il, she asks, "What a day for you, hmm? And how /are/ you feeling, as far as the threadscore goes?"

Cymri steps in, gaze sweeping swiftly across the room. Spotting Alanis, her shoulders square, though a smile does cross her face. She strides towards the trader, calling across the room, "Alanis! Heyla!" and waving one slender arm to get her attention.

(Sarilee) R'il inclines his head towards Sarilee. "Uh, yes it is. But I'm feeling fine, just a little stiff." And immediately blushes. You don't grow up with six brothers without hearing everything made into a joke.

(Sarilee) Sarilee blinks innocently at first. But at his blush, her own cheeks turned pink-tinged, and her lashes lower. "I'm glad to here you're feeling well now," comes the soft murmur, and then she looks up, pale green sparkling in her eyes, "And congratulations, of course." After a pause, she quickly adds, not quite stammering, "For the new position, I mean-- er, for the knot." Again, the adolescent looks away, embarrased for likely no reason.

(Sarilee) "It was," K'mra simply says, then leaves it at that. A nearby cot - unoccupied - is spied, and rider slips over to perch upon the edge. Amused, she eyes Sarilee, straight-faced, before inquiring, "And why have ye been in the infirmary ... " She pauses, brows knit, then apologizes, "I didn't catch your name."

Cymri smiles as well, dragging a nearby chair over and settling into it with a not-quite flop, "Hi, Alanis...I'm sorry, that I didn't have time to explain my leaving very well, but.." She shrugs, stopping off. There really is no excuse. "Ah..could you talk a moment?" She nods towards the book, as if sorry to interrupt.

(Sarilee) Sarilee gladly settles her gaze on K'mra, smiling, "Oh, sorry, I'm always forgetting that-- It's Sarilee," straightening her slim shoulders, she adds, "assistant to WeyrTrader Cymri." Then, with a slight frown, she adds, "I guess you'd call it more of an apprenticeship, really." Waving long fingers in dismissal, she continues, "I came in here to help the injured, if I could. Managed to get Cymri in here for a while, too." She comes to a sudden stop, "Oh, but I'm rambling, aren't I?"

(Sarilee) K'mra laughingly nods - quiet, as not to disturb the sleeping occupants. "Oh, I do that often enough," she reassures. "I'd be K'mra, lifemate to brown Tyranoth - one of the lumps outside, in the bowl."

Alanis nods." That'd be fine." her voice has a firm edge and she sits up, setting the book on the table and shooing the various firelizards put about her. She then pulls out a chair for Cymri and pats it, her eyes questioning.

(Sarilee) R'il looks up again from his knot-induced daze. Oh, introductions are being made. "Well met, Sarilee. I'm R'il." No title. WindScorcher WingSecond and DragonMiner is just too cumbersome a title.

Cymri settles into the chair, brown eyes serious and direct, "Well, I came into the weyr some time back, and had a long, thorough discussion with ... Gamma, Idris, Shiana." Tucking a strand of glossy hair behind one ear, she continues, "Apparently, we'd been refusing to tithe?" The last is question, yet assured, all at once.

Alanis sighs and sits back against the chair." Refusing to tithe..." she repeats the phrase with a certain wistfulness. Leaning forward, she puts her hands on her knees." The fact is...we can't afford to tithe. The wagon hasn't been making much profit and if we could get running again, we /would/ tithe. We're getting bad trades and no trades because of costs. If I could get all the traders together at once then this wouldn't happen, but since the traders in the agon have free reign..." she trails off, leaving the rest of the sentence to be filled with time.

Looking still curious, and faintly disturbed, as well as surprised, Cymri asks, "Can't afford it? Were we really all that poorly off? Which...which costs do you mean, Alanis?" She'd no idea. Seems she hadn't known about a lot of things, in fact... Ideas already beginning to form, she awaits a response first.

Alanis hmms." We were really all that poor off. We still owe Crom and Telgar tithe for the food borrowed. which is almost gone anyway. We have no way to get to outside contact, since every came from 'aroud', so to speak. We need to expand, but profits on't let us." Now for costs...." with every trade, there is a cost, wether it is to us, or them. Nothing is worth the same as anything else, unless their the same thing, so whoever's is worth more gets paid whatever amount is left from the less costly item. and usually ours are the less costly, therefore we have to pay money to some people. Some don't care..Holds and Weyr folks especially want the extra....." Hmm...maybe we can get a lesson in here,too.

(Sarilee) R'il has nothing else to say though, and looks back down at his knot. If only the oldtimers could see him now, they'd laugh. A bronzerider, Scored on his second Threadfall, a journeyman miner, a wingsecond with almost not experience, and as innocent as a twelve Turn-old. My, would they laugh.

(Sarilee) Sarilee laughs to cover the silence, her voice twinkling cheerfully out, "D'you know what I saw the other day? A firelizard stalking after a trundlebug! It was the funniest sight, of course." Red lips curving at the memory, she continues, "Because, when the little fellow finally leaned forward," Her hands gesture slightly as she speaks, "and /poked/ the trundlebug, ever so slightly, the critter jumped like you wouldn't believe!" Well, maybe not the most intelligent conversation, but it's something...

Cymri nods slowly, hands automatically smoothing her skirts as she listens, "So, what you're saying is that we need to..." Her hands come forward, counting off on her fingers, "Organize, and publicize? Basically?" Makes sense, and perhaps the weyr could help through its connections... Almost shyly, she offers, "Gamma made me WeyrTrader here, oddly enough. That's why I moved out..." Her voice trails off, and, looking down, she admits, "I'm not really sure /why/ she did it." But then, back to costs, "Alanis, you've so much more mastery than I." She's experienced, and knows plenty of the tricks, but she's also been used, trampled on, and otherwise mistreated in the meantime. Where she normally would keep up a confident, capable front, she'll go for honesty right now.

(Sarilee) K'mra quirks a faint grin. "Oh, did it really? Mine don't generally stalk after trundlebugs, but.." Shoulders shrug, and brown-eyed gaze slides towards R'il to observe his reaction.

"Mastery? " It helps if your parents are traders and you grew up on a train, but there really isn't much, too it." Alanis sighs, a finger messing with her growing hair. She's relatively young, but, looking older, she's been mistaken for a old timer. " Let's put it this way. Too many people demand, not enough people supply. It's as simple as that."

(Sarilee) Sarilee looks down slightly, as if unsure, and then looks back up at K'mra and R'il, "Oh, really? This one was a ...blue, yes, a blue firelizard." Glancing through her lashes at R'il, she prompts, somewhere between shy and coy, "You didn't mention what color your lifemate is...?"

Cymri nods quickly. Supply and demand... Yes, Baskir told her all about that. When he wasn't whispering false nothings, that is..." Again brushing back a wayward strand of hair, she agrees, "I've often found that problem myself--or else, when I've one thing to offer, the other person has something I've little or no need of, though it would /sell/ for the same price."

Alanis laughs suddenly, tension breaking." oh but that's where your wrong, that's where your wrong." she sits back. " Prices shoot up if trades go down, so things nowadays are actually worth more then they should be. There's to much competition, and not enough traders.." she sighs again.

Cymri listens thoughtfully, brown eyes obviously pensive, "Perhaps if we... put up postings? One series, just for traders, either asking for a meeting or simply declaring how things are to work." She shrugs slightly, mostly just trying to get the idea out, "And then another, at various holds and weyrs, explaining a general 'how you can get in touch...' idea?"

(Sarilee) R'il blinks and points to the bronze slumbering next to him. "He's bronze. And silly," he replies, smiling slightly. He suppose she didn't notice the dragon besides him.

Alanis sighs." It could work, but only if there is follow through...and there's something my traders don't have..." she puts her head in her hands and continues." The truth is.... we just don't have what it takes to keep up with the others.." she sighs.." I'm thinking of closing don the trading train.." Well, that's a thought...

Cymri shakes her head quickly, firmly cutting across, "Now that's not an option, Alanis. It can't be." Leaning back, her fingers tap hurriedly across her thigh, "We've /got/ to think of something. I refuse to let you guys just ... quit operating. Isn't there something?" Frowning, she quiets down, to think. Or listen.

(Sarilee) A rippling mosaic of creamy bronze weaves its tale from mild slope of muzzle to finely-tipped tail, molding his contours long and lean with stamina's stamp of strength. Subtle platinum dashes from headknobs to ridges in a precarious game of hide-n-seek, while a mirage of silver wisps along shoulder and haunches' silhouette. A silvery halo reflects tail's end, mirrored only in the cloak of translucent sails where elongated spars stretch beyond his lithe curves, emeralds and forests kissing crevice and joint alike: here, stout legs define a path to ample, active paws which host soft coal talons, flecked with iridescent mirth.

(Sarilee) Sarilee blushes, the warm color infusing across her cheeks in a delicately flattering manner, "Oh, of course. That's him, right?" One long finger indicates the large, sleeping mass. Smiling again, she does sincerely, admiringly add, "He's beautiful." And hey, what's wrong with silly?

Alanis sits back." if we can't get the wagon running, it may be the only option. If we could pay off tithes, the whole thing would be solved, but there's no trade alive between routes, so theres no trading being done..." she shakes her head." i just don't see how we can get most of the Perenese population to start trading again. Almost everyones converted to marks, since most places don't allow trading."

(Sarilee) Leigha stirs on her cot, and sits up, blinking at the light. She smooths out her tunic, creased from sleeping and drowsily regards the others. "Hello," she says quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

Cymri brushes back that strand of hair one last time, then sighs, frustrated. Venting that emotion on her hair, she tugs out the strap of leather, letting the glossy black locks fall forward, and shakes her head quickly back and forth. "Marks, so impersonal... Perhaps...perhaps if we could arrange something with a smith or other crafter, create a new ... toy, jewel, clothing article, ..." She shakes her head, "A new /anything/, and make it so popular that people all over Pern would want it? Only, they'd have to /trade/ for it?" Then, again shaking her head, she sighs, pulling her hair back once more and severely tying it up. "But..no, I don't suppose that would ever work."

(Sarilee) Sarilee laughs quietly and then turns to Leigha, blinking, "Oh, dear, did we wake you?" Without waiting for a response, she rushes on, "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you... could I get you anything?" Wide green eyes are light, smile amiable and set to please as she regards Leigha.

(Sarilee) Leigha blinks in return and a lopsided smile plays across her scarred face. "You didn't wake me at all," she says to Sarilee. Turning to R'il, a look of concern darkens her eyes. "And how are you and Ysaeth today?" she asks, in a voice which speaks of her and her lifemate's own anguished scoring.

Cymri begins to smile again, her own a reflection of Alanis's, "Do you think...do you think it could possibly work then? If we could, say, dig up some old, old records and recreate an object, or find a ... Oh, I don't know, a hidden 'something'?" Hope makes her brown eyes search the other trader's face for a response.

(Sarilee) R'il smiles slightly. "We're fine," he replies, making no mention of anything else. "Doing much better. How about you and Murath?" he asks politely, tucking away the knot in his hand with the rest of his things.

Cymri blinks suddenly, gaze unfocusing as if in memory, "Actually, there's...a ..." She pauses, smile lighting her face suddenly, "Oh, I talked to a woman at Telgar some time back. She mentioned... a journal, of some sort, which described secret passages all across Pern. Perhaps that could help? And, of course, we can always find something to offer and then talk to the heads of several crafts?" Nodding slowly, she considers, "Yes...if we do some of the dirty-work searching ourselves, we just might find something to keep you guys going."

(Sarilee) Leigha doesn't see the knot so cleverly hidden away as she smiles again. "We're much better, thank you. But we still haven't been assigned to a wing." Murath raises his brown head and croons, tail thumping against the cot. "Yes dear, I know you want to fly soon..." she says to the brown, glad that his injuries were not too serious. Turning back to R'il, she sighs. "I just want to get back up there."

Alanis smiles." Don't forget yourself. No matter where you are, you're still a member of the Train. I've got one at Crom, too." she pats Cymri on the shoulder." Dirty-work is always fun...especially for those who don't get dirty that often.."

(Sarilee) Leigha shakes her head, then pushes herself off of her cot. "The score is practically healed," she lies to Sarilee, making the pretense of being her old self again. But the wince as she moves the shoulder injudiciously, followed by an even stranger face as she stretches scar tissue on her cheek, speak volumes about her condition. She tries to wink at R'il. "Old cooking injuries, y'know."

Cymri smiles as well, a faint, seldom seen look of shyness crossing her face, "/Thank/ you, Alanis." Oh, perfect... "At Crom, really? That's where the journal was last seen, so I heard... And, yes, I think this new work will be a /good/ change of task." Definitely promises to be interesting, anyway...

(Sarilee) Leigha shakes her head slightly. "Well, R'il, I'm glad that Ysaeth's fine," she says heart-felt. "Murath was worried 'bout him, y'know. Wouldn't tell me, but I knew." She nods towards the brown who croons at the silvered bronze.

(Sarilee) G'tar saunters in, quietly, as is the wont of master harpers everywhere and stops at first the dragons, Ysaeth, Eratoth and Murath, one at a time, bowing, greeting, raising a hand ever so gently toward each to stroke, should they respond. Assisting in weyrling training has familiarized him with all these here, but Agalith. to this dragon, he just tilts his head, doesn't offer a touch. The talk beyond barely registers.

(Sarilee) Ysaeth snoozes on. Fortunately, his bodily functions also sleep. "Yeah, his injuries weren't that bad." R'il's were more severe. "I'm glad you and Murath are better too."