Hunt Me Some Huntness

[Admin]

Do you have a clue?
You don't have a clue,
I've seen you talking with your friends,
Clever young jokes in a world that never ends.

"Why;" Fajra inquired again, voice stiff and commanding. She grudgingly, but fluidly so as not to allow it to seem like she was being dragged along, followed W'al. Off on the rim, Kalith had decided to take a nap. She would expect progress when she awoke. Her rider expected to have a full report to offer.

"Take a leap of faith, Weyrwoman. It's what we've got;" the purplerider assured her with a playful grin as he stepped into the weyr of a certain pinkrider, peering about like a spy on a secret mission. He was enjoying himself. Helping the thorough woman that lead the Weyr, in all the ways he was asked, was fun.

"Anyway, it's doubtful she would have booby trapped her own weyr. She might be an evil genius, but she's too off the wall, as is Oorth, to make such an idea smart;" he added, attempting to be logical than he was feeling quite spur of the moment. Kerath informed him that he sounded good, watching from nearby.

Conceding that he had some sense, Fajra brushed past him. She had no fear. No fear of discovery. No fear of retribution. All she had was a feeling of competition, a feeling of the need to win. She headed for the bed. They wasted time that could be used if they were wrong. If. She trusted W'al. She reached for the pillows.

Don't make me smile,
All the stars in the sky,
Just crossed your eyes,
All the blood to your brain.

[kyrillion]

Something strange happens!

A dragon who must be painted to look like a bronze (because he or she is much smaller than any real bronze) flies by at that precise moment. The rider is wearing a hood to disguise their identity, and as they pass throws some sort of package into the weyr.

It lands near W'al and Fajra, breaking open and spilling a fine white dust in the air all around them, something that might have been pilfered from the healers -

Itching powder.

[Admin]

Curled with my teeth against my knees,
I am scratching at my consciousness,
Like a dog with fleas,
I think you'll be greatly pleased.

Fajra lunged to the side at the shower of itching power, with W'al right beside her, both of them hurrying to get away. That was the extend of the Weyrwoman's reaction, except for very pursed lips and a tense posture. The purplerider, however, began to itch at his arms and body. "Stop that. Go take a bath;" she chided him, brushing powder from her arm to try to relieve some of its potency.

"What;" he said, still itching away though he made a small effort to slow down. He stared at her, squirming all about as if dancing some odd jig, while she stood there calmly. Irritated, but in control. "How can you not even be twitching?

"This isn't bad. Itching powder is simple. There's plenty of bad things you can mix in;" she said mildly. He stared at her. She headed out of the weyr. "Now, trust me. Go take a bath;" she ordered as she walk away. He hurriedly went to comply.

Kalith awoke with a roar, outer lids flaring open as she surged to her feet, as her rider was attacked, or at least attacked from her point of view. However, the perpetrator was already long gone. She settled for making most everyone on the rim run for cover from her wrath. Kerath had considered catching the false gold, quick of wing and large than the individual as he was. In the end, all he did was stretch languidly and flutter his wings. He saw no reason to ruin the fun. He rumbled faintly with innocent laughter for the predicament of his rider, taking flight only to head for their weyr. He was in for a wait, since his rider would be needing a thorough bath.

I've mapped out my course,
Looks like it's all uphill,
I've got a heavy heart to carry,
But a very strong will.