Closed on three of six sides by delicate, whitewashed laticework, the quaint little gazebo is covered by tiny flowering vines. Small blooms are abundant on the vines, adding a subtle scent to the air. The three open sides open to the southwest, turned to view the beach and pefectly placed to offer a view of the beautiful Istan sunset as well as a good view of the evening stars. To aid in watching, a swing hangs from the center of the gazebo, just big enough for two to enjoy a romantic moment.

MOO Time: 2012-06-20 09:13:12
Your Time: 2012-06-20 11:13:12
Internet Time: @634 beats
And on Pern …
The time is 07:13.
It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of autumn.
It is the twenty-fifth Turn of the Tenth Interval.
It is an autumn midmorning.

This young man has 'brown' down like it's going out of style. Brown hair kept short enough for government work, brown freckles that wax and wane in intensity based on how much sun they flourish in. His skin tone beneath the freckles is a dusky brown as well, adding a bit of island feel negotiably complimented by blue eyes and furry brows. He's average in size and height, 5'9 and a touch stocky in the neck and jaw.
Perry dresses like a clean and comely commoner, or at least in the style of one. Trousers and tunics fit, though that's the best that can be said of them, he's removed the lace keeping his collar synched for a little ventilation in the heat and on his days to himself he might cut off the bottom feet or two of his pants to air out his ankles. Perry wears Perry's Listening Tube around his neck.
A tail, a loop, also a tassle, formed by double cordage? That spells Sr. Apprentice, colors Healer aligned.
He is a teenager of about 18. He is awake and looks alert.

Turns of practice have finally mostly tamed the rampant auburn curls upon Ilae's head. To keep them from becoming a hassle, the greenrider almost always keeps her hair no longer than her shoulders, and sometimes even shorter than that. Green eyes that once danced still show flashes of that youthfulness from time to time, but seriousness more oft than not is present within them. A jagged scar that has faded slightly over the turns is still visible on her left cheek, and the scars of threadscoring are still visible upon her neck. Narrow eyebrows and a gentle nose combine with a stubborn jaw and almost equally stubborn lips complete the woman, while calloused hands and tannish skin suggest she is no stranger to work or sun. Ilae stands at only five feet four inches tall.
A finely crafted pair of riding leathers adorn Ilae's frame. Neither sophisticated or simple, they are simply designed for comfort and warmth while riding. A pair of matching boots are upon Ilae's feet. Two firelizards are perched on her shoulders.
In as mint condition as a knot can be, the knot of a wingleader rests on Ilae's shoulder, in Ista Weyr black and orange. The badge below indicates her as the Wingleader of the Riptide wing. A thread of green through it denotes her as Suumanuth's rider.
She is an adult of about 30. She is awake and looks alert.
Ilae has no apparent threadscoring.

Misty light and deep forest green hide stretches tight and shiny over an arcing skeletal form, highlighting wiry muscles and elongated features. A narrow muzzle and prominent cheek bones widen the helm-like head; the neck twiggy in comparison. Strokes of sparkling golden flesh wrap down each antennae-like headknob, embracing an empty swatch of leafy hue in the center. Willowy ribs bow into an armored cage with a dusty rubicund breastbone. There, darkest emerald flows over wide, rounded shoulders along the wings, pale coral underneath. Verdigris stretches across the muscular trunk down to a rounded point on the lower abdomen, freckled flush and ruddy. Protracted hind legs, paws dipped in pine, join to narrow viridian hips; taut hide causing the socket stands in relief. Kelly banded forelimbs are further exaggerated, one claw nearly white and serrated, the other algae tainted and strong. A wisp of a tail lashes out from her back side, composed largely of light moss covered muscle and lightning green splashed, pea-tinted ridges that run from the back of the head down to the spade tip.
A pair of riding straps smelling faintly of flowers are fastened to Suumanuth's neck.
Suumanuth seems to be listening.

Don't mind the young man standing lurksomely at the gazebo's entrance, one finger poised to poke a small flower that by rights was pointing at him first. It's midmorning in fine trappings, lush blue sky and lush blue water reflecting it, a cooling autumnal breeze coaxing the lower hem of Perry's tunic to orbit his hips once like a lazy cloth hoola hoop. In the non-flower-prodding hand he holds a notebook tucked against his abdomen. Prod.

For all that she is wearing boots, this redheads approach is one of practiced quiet. Efficient for startling unruly wingriders, perhaps? A package held in one hand, a curious look upon her face, the greenrider pauses when she spots the young man, and eyes him. "Did the flower offend you so?" She questions, tone dry. While she awaits a reply, she glances about the gardens. Expecting to find someone else, as well? Perhaps. In any case, it's rather quickly that the woman's intense gaze returns to the healer.

Suumanuth's attention is drawn through their mindlink when Ilae addresses a young man by the gazebo. The green dragon says nothing yet, merely impresses upon her rider to allow her to continue to watch. Permission is graanted, even as the green takes to the sky, to circle far, far overhead.

"Can flowers be offensive?" Philosophical. Kind of. Perry doesn't straight away look up, perhaps registering the quiet approach in peripheral if not the forefront of his cognitive lobes. He bears the flower down and then releases it to bob on its stem back up to its proper elevation. "Anyway, I - oh." At this point he lifts his eyes, half-way to scratching his nose but paused with a glance to his visitor's knot. He crooks half a dry smile, folding free hand over notebooked hand in a lazy embrace of his knowledge. "It's 'wingleader' isn't it?"

Ilae continues to watch the young man with a curious sort of intensity, though she does quirk a slight smile at his words. "Some would say they can." She's quiet for a moment as the healer apprentice looks up, taking the time to examine his own knot as well. "It is." She acknowledges, "not that I let most people call me that. How old are you, senior apprentice?" While the answer is awaited upon, the package in Ilae's hand is shifted to the other hand. The newly freed hand rubs her neck absently while she waits. "You can call me Ilae." It's added as an afterthought, as if there are other, more important things weighing on the wingleader's mind. …Like how old he is, apparently.

Suumanuth's interest in the young man grows twofold as he answers and presses more intensity upon her rider while she circles above, much like she does when choosing a choice bit of meat for her meals.
« What do you want, Suu? We're just talking. »
Suumanuth doesn't answer.

A tip of head enables Perry an overt study of the side of Ilae's neck where she rubs, clinical curiosity common to his trade and he doesn't remember to muster apology while eyeballing the curious network of scars found therein. "Ilae, then. If you'd prefer. I'm Perry, and eighteen, ma'am." Two states of being, one more permanent than the other. "Do you need assistance? I can do more than harry the plant life, anyway." He's relaxing, not that there was tension, propping a shoulder against a gazebo post and raising his brows to look out along the water, "Or you could come up. There's a view." He's plucking a flower while saying it, and in completion he gestures forward, the flower bobbling towards the ocean to imply said view's direction.
Ilae sighs to herself as her eyes briefly gain a distant, unfocused look anyone familiar with dragons might associate with communication between rider and dragon. Far above, what had been a distant dragon circling high above loses some of her altitude, just enough to make her shape more distinct…if the viewer isn't underneath something with a roof. "I was looking for someone, but that's not important right now." The dragonrider says after a moment. "More importantly, I do believe my dragon wants to meet you." Her hand drops from her neck, to shuffle the package again as she glances upward. The offer of the view has a brief smile crossing Ilae's face. "I've seen it before, thank you."
Suumanuth thinks to you, « I bespoke Perry with « You sense that Suumanuth is a sudden presence whom gives no words, but rather the feeling leaves the sense of being intensely scrutinized. As the feeling and presence fade, a distant roar of thunder can be clearly heard. » »

Suumanuth soars overhead and lands upon an unoccupied space of beach, finally choosing to impart words to her rider. « Meeting. Yes. »

Cue Perry's bemusement, almost skeptical as if not entirely sure he isn't missing a joke, "You're dragon? Do you know that I'm a dentist?" He doesn't rush to come down from the gazebo, turning his flower on himself now and tapping it to rest beneath his nose as if for a sniff while he puzzles. But two shadows come. One in physical, for while a dragon above can't be seen from beneath the gazebo roofing, its streaking monstro-bat shape can be seen in relief against the sunlight beach. And with it comes a more subtle shadow that crosses the young man's face. Like origami, his expression folds inwards with a hesitant discomfort. "That would her, I assume," he says mutely. He compresses his lips and seems to for a moment consult with his blossom, swallowing privately. And then takes a brisk inhale and trumple-trots down the few gazebo steps towards the greenrider. "Flower." He identifies it. And then hands it over like it's a ticket.

Ilae chuckles, and shakes her head slightly. "She hasn't told me why, but she definitely wants to meet you." She informs him, mildly amused. He's watched by the rider now as the dragon shadow makes it's way back to the beach, where the green dragon quickly lands in an unoccupied spot. The young man's reactions are noted, but not questioned - at least until his statement. "..I keep telling her to let me know before she does something like that." Ilae sighs. "I'm sorry." She offers him a wry smile, and accepts the flower-ticker with a bit of a questioning look. "Yes, flower." Ilae sets off in the direction of the beach, stepping as quietly as she did before. Apparently, it's just assumed he'll follow.

Main Beach
This long stretch of white sandy beach stands pristine among the beaches around Ista Island. The sand stretches off into the distance on either side of you, disappearing into the horizon. Several large uprooted trees dot the beach where they were most likely felled in a big storm. They look as if they'd make great benches, for people or firelizards alike. To the east, the crystal blue waters of the Hold cove roll up in gentle waves onto the beach, hissing softly as they ebb and flow. To the south, Ista Hold juts out of the cliff. Just west of here, a low bluff leads up to the grassy field that serves as the Hold's main gather grounds.

« He'll do. » The green informs her rider confidently. « The Sands. He'll do. »

Suumanuth examines the pair as they approach, her eyes a bright, whirling blue. The green dragon croons finally, glancing at her rider, before settling on the beach's sands. Ilae rubs her neck again, her eyes distant. "Oh. She…says you'll do." Ilae says, glancing at the healer. "Ista Weyr has a clutch on the Sands right now." She says, watching him. "Suumanuth wants you for that clutch."

Perry is swept along like flotsam on a jet stream, his eyes on the sky to watch the dragon's descent and his feet settled into a stroll more casual than his furrow of brow might suit. He's stuck his book under an armpit and then tucked hands into pockets, elbows loosely jutting out to either side like chicken wings. He meanders a bit on his trail through the gardens, placing feet squarely in the center of specific cobblestones to avoid stepping on cracks, and the green dragon - by nature the smallest of the dragons - appears plenty big to a Healer. Not that he doesn't approach her, hands still in pockets. "So." Pause. Smile? Smile-then-falls? Eyes snap to Ilae, "Hm? The what in the who now?"

Ilae smiles slightly. "A clutch of dragon eggs. At the Weyr." Ilae replies, her free hand shifting to go into a pocket. Suumanuth simply waits, watching. The dragon and rider are patient, watching the senior apprentice for his response. "We want you to Stand for it." Ilae adds after a moment, smiling slightly. "If you'll accept, we're taking you to the Weyr."

"What." It's not even a question, it's more a stall while Perry's brow furrows. "Now?" He looks down at himself, in off-duty attire and sandaled feet. He flaps his chicken wing arm while looking at his book and then flicks a glance over his shoulder towards the distant looming Hall. Then tucks his book into the back waist band of his pants and seizes his hands onto Suumanuth's straps, "I'll just climb up then, shall I?" So… apparently his answer is 'hell yeah'.

Ilae grins when Perry does. "Yes, you do. Just a word of warning next time; most dragons will want permission before you suddenly grab onto them." Ilae tucks the package into a pocket of one of the bags on Suumanuth's straps, and once Perry's on, she mounts quickly in front of him. "Okay, you put the straps on like this…" She'll show him how, this time, and make sure he's in good and tight. "Suumanuth doesn't give much time before she goes between, just as a warning!" Stolen cargo on board, Suumanuth launches. Once she's barely more than a dragonlength above ground, they slip into between.

Candidates' Barracks
Long and low, this large room angles back into the mountain in a near-perfect rectangle, devoid of windows and hearth. A functional room — the black volcanic rock has been painted with a cheerful mural, with the other walls painted in green and orange thoughtfully, before resuming the stark simplicity in the seemingly endless rows of cots that scatter back into the shadows. A small clothespress sits at the end of each puce-covered bed — yes, puce. Every cot sports a rather gaudy and obnoxiously purple cotton coverlet, leftovers from PranksPast. Boys to the right, girls to the left. Enjoy.
All in all, it doesn't take long after landing for Ilae to lead Perry to the Barracks, and get him set up with a brand new white knot. "Pick out a cot, and get to know your fellow candidates. Lunch isn't too far off, and we have an hour rest after that. The schedule's over there." A board is pointed at. "Congratulations, Candidate. Don't get caught without that knot! And with that, Ilae leaves again. Probably to return to trying to deliver that package…

"Thanks…" Perry is a quiet ride, wandering off into the barracks with only a belated glance over his shoulder and flicker of smile. Overwhelmed is the name of the game, though, isn't it… Every bed he passes gets a tap on the head board. Decisions, decisions.

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