The Weyrwoman's Sister {Open}

Sister, I hear you laugh,
My heart fills full up,
Keep me please,
Sister, when you cry.

The Weyrwoman had been away, but she had told no one but her weyrmate and Avalle. The trip was not a long one and the business to which she was going to attend was personal. With the only threat to her Weyr in the water, Kalith had been happy for the distraction, or at least agreeable to it. They had left at dawn, the winter light shining weakly, remembering that it would later where they were going. Fajra remembered, anyway, and Kalith was easy to rouse as Rukbat rose. On silent wings, they left, their presence innocuously disappearing from the bowl. Afzal, the Weyrwoman's flitter, was watching, but he did not go with them, though he knew where they were going. Osro was sleeping and he would not leave the boy, the most dutiful father to a child who was not even the same species as him. With his bonded away, he had to stay alert.

A few candlemarks later, the chilly winter morning lessening as noon approached, three dragons appeared high above the bowl, Kalith amongst them. The other two, flanking on either side, were a foreign bronze with a bright amberish hide and black with not a tinge of tint to his color. With the Queen at their head, they dipped down, moving to land in the bowl while they held formation in a perfect triangle. Fury in the copper, pride in the bronze, and sense in the black, they were not about to make a mistake and fudge their grand entrance. Kalith landed first, signaling that they were okay. She was followed by the bronze and then the black. For a moment, everything was very, very still. Then there was a yelp of joy and a passenger wiggled out from behind Fajra on Kalith's back, undoing the riding straps with the ease of some experience.

The guest, who was actually now a candidate, was a lanky, wiry teenager with a striking resemblance to the Weyrwoman, which made sense. They were sisters. If anyone at Dalibor had known Fajra as a teenager, it would have been all the more amazing, just how similar they were in build. Of course, the candidate behaved nothing like the Weyrwoman. Her name was Fahra and she moved with a bounce, landing and springing back up to face all that was in front of her. The shadows of a Queen, a King, and a black behind her didn't even make her twitch, making her Weyr heritage quite apparent. No dragon was going to scare her! A lopsided grin on her face and a twinkle in her dull blue eyes, she took a step forward offering Kalith's shoulder an affectionate pat. They were old friends, the two of them; the Queen expected her rider's sister to do well.

The three dragon's three riders dismounted a moment after Fahra settled on the ground. Fajra was the eldest. The other two were boys in their late teens or early twenties, one with red hair while the other was a brunette. Despite that, the bronzerider wore the knots of a wingsecond. Both wore Bay Weyr's emblem on their riding gear. "Welcome to Dalibor;" Fajra intoned as she pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair. She'd chopped it short again, but the curls clung annoyingly to her face, at least in her mind. The two men, her brothers, tipped their heads back to examine the Weyr appreciatively, aware of Kalith's gaze. Their dragons held their tongue, though bronze Wicneth looked like he was having trouble with it. To make the King's jumpy demeanor, his rider, M'jar, was smirking, hardly looking like the respectful guest.

"Very nice;" the bronzerider innocently chirruped. M'her of black Mosecoth shot his brother a look, but kept his peace, having learned to deal with the little twerp's shenanigans when they were still children. Having regularly kept them from wreaking general havoc on Pern when she was just a child, Fajra ignored them with amazing ease, her often fraying patience somehow extended in the presence of her family. They never got to see enough of each other, not that she minded having her mother at a safe distance of two continents from her. However, now Fahra was going to be at Dalibor. It did the Weyrwoman proud, though she knew not to interfere in such matters. She would offer no special treatment to her sister, no matter how much she loved her doppelganger of a sibling. She had always shown them love and caring, not kindness.

"So, where's our little nephew?" M'jar drawled after another moment, sticking his hands into his pockets to strike a dramatic, soulful pose to complete his bad boy image. He wasn't about to let things grow dull. Anyway, he did genuinely want to meet Osro, as he'd only ever seen pictures of the sprout. Even M'her agreed, nodding eagerly. However, the Weyrwoman was busy watching her sister and kept her eyes fixed firmly away from her brothers. She wasn't about to indulge them. Besides that, she had left her son in capable hands that he had doubtlessly evaded at some point during the last few hours, unless O'sho had recently taken hold of him. Though M'jar would doubtlessly approve, she wasn't about to encourage any of the bronzerider's childhood antics to help his ever expanding ego. She knew all his little secrets. She knew all.

"Hopefully sleeping or in the creche or with his father;" Fajra replied, tone cold but tolerant. Smirking faintly, M'jar settled back into his badness. M'her just shook his head. Given how useful their mother and father had been in their lives, they were open about parent strategies. Personally, Fajra hoped that M'jar never reproduced; M'her would be the responsible one. Though Fahra was listening to them, she kept her mouth shut for the time being, a million emotions playing across her face. Kalith was also listening but playing it quiet. However, she was merely bored with the conversation, uninterested in the two dragons standing just back from her. She settled onto her haunches and snapped her jaw in a yawn. All she wanted was for Fahra to stick around, Impress a weaselly but agreeable tan or something, and be a source of pride.

"Wow, you're a wonderful mother;" Fahra finally said with a giggle, skipping forward. Though Fajra sent her a less than subtle glance of disapproval, she continued off, unafraid of the mysterious Weyr in front of her. She turned on her heels, eyes fixed on the rim so that she could scan every inch of it. "I mean, I'm sure you are. It's just so very unlike you, falling in love and all of that. Falling in love with the actual Weyrleader too! I always swore ya'd stay stubborn and pick some odd bluerider." There she went, chattering away. An awkward but kind smile coloring her face, Fajra nodded to M'jer and M'har. They ruffled Fahra's hair in passing, knowing better to mess with their older sister, and then hopped up onto their dragon's back. The black and bronze rose up high and then winked out. Turning to watch them go, Fahra waved goodbye.

Just by walking away,
Playing like we used to play,
Like it would never go away,
I feel you beating in my chest.