Of Haircuts, Dresses and Aunties

A'zric tells his sister he may make her an auntie yet again, while Ouryn cuts Mouse's hair and Radar delivers Zyna's new gather dress as promised.

Zynassa - Monday, April 16, 2001, 11:18 AM
------------------------------------------

Zynassa comes in, nose a trifle sunburned despite the wide brimmed hat she wears. A carrysack is bumping against her knees, leavily laden with things that make muted clacking sounds.

A'zric sits at a table, hidework spread around him as he works, the start of a silly grin upon his face, inspite of hidework. He looks up at the muted clatter and the grin beams, "Nassa! How are you this fine day?"

Zynassa stops and gives her brother a faintly suspicious look. Apparently hidework and a grinning Weyrleader do not usually go hand in hand. "I'm good. Been hunting claws today. It's gorgeous out, even if it's hot enough to fry a dragon egg on the beach sands." A trifle warily she asks, "Why?"

A'zric laughs, "Because I'd like to know? Is that not a good enough reason?" he seems to be in a remarkably good mood, "Good catch? Join me for a glass of wine?"

Zynassa's eyebrows reach her hairline. In a tone that doesn't quite dare to believe her good fortune at being offered wine she says, "Sure. Can I get you anything from the kitchens while I drop this off with the cooks?" Suiting actions to words, she's already moving. Don't give him a chance to reconsider the wine.

A'zric considers and then requests, "Maybe something to snack on, cookies or something? Whatever's handy."

Zynassa nods and ducks into the busy place. She emerges a moment or so later, without sack, and bearing fruit, cheese and a small selection of cookies. "These were all they'd give me. Said I'd have to wait until dinner otherwise." She deposits them, and then flomps comfortably down across from A'zric.

A'zric has poured two glasses of red in the interm, "Mmm, that looks just fine, some nibbles to go with."

Zynassa eyes the wine, and takes it up with a nonchalance that is entirely feigned. "Gelth didn't lose a flight this morning, did he?"

A'zric laughs, lifting his glass in a toast gesture before sipping, "Mmm, that scamp was right, this is a nice sweet one. No, no Flights lost, mores the pity."

Zynassa echoes the gesture and takes a cautious sip of the wine sniffing carefully at it before she does. A swallow and she asks, "So what's got you in such a good mood?" The wine is studied, held almost possessively, as though he might decide the decadence is too much for the afternoon.

A'zric grins, "How would you feel about being an Aunt again?" he blurts before adding, "Well not quite yet, but hopefully."

Zynassa arches her eyebrows, considering in silence for a moment or two. Then she says loftily, "Well, I figured with Tamina grounded...." A grin follows and she asks, "What'dya mean, not quite yet?"

A'zric chuckles, "Well the healers havent said yea or nay yet, but we're hoping sooner rather than later, but we both think Yina needs a sibling."

Zynassa quips, "Even if she doesn't, it's fun practicing." A pause and then, "What's Yina say about this?"

A'zric laughs, "And Mina's grounded anyhow, so that does nothing but help the odds." spoken like a true Bitran, "We havent told her yet, we wanted to wait until it was a little more definate before telling her."

Zynassa says gravely, "Never wager on a sure thing. I had a feeling when I saw her on crutches..." She can't help teasing her brother a little. "Faranth's rear - Have you told mother yet? And are you just waiting on the healers to tell you it has already happened?"

A'zric frowns a little, "And she tromps all over the place on those crutches, down to the waterfall and everything!" he laughs, "No, I havent told Mom yet, nor Lekky, nor the twins. You're the first."

Zynassa tips her glass to her brother. "Well then, here's my wishing for the best. And don't worry about 'Mina. Honestly, Yaz. If she can fight thread, a baby really shouldn't be that much of an issue." She rolls her eyes a bit.

A'zric nods, "I just dont want her falling on the crutches and reopening that score up."

Zynassa cracks a half smile at her brother. "Just like she didn't want you pulling yours back open when you were scored. So when should you hear back from the healers?

A'zric does manage sheepish, "Mine wouldnt pull open by walking!" he protests, "She's going to talk to them in the next few days I think, perhaps."

Zynassa grins. "So I have to wait that long to find out?"

A'zric laughs, "So do I, so I figure, I'll celebrate until I know for sure."

Zynassa chuckles. "Sounds as good of a reason to celebrate as any. Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but did you get to the Harpers the other day? K'dar mentioned something about there being a bunch of things going on, and I was wondering if Jae had her nose in it."

A'zric nods, "A few Istans went, I didnt, apprently Jaeleka won some lyrics contest."

Zynassa mms. "I really should get over there to see her." She grins. "But I'll wait until the healers get their final word in. Then *you* can go tell her, and I'll tag along. Good reason to head up to Telgar as well, to see the rest of the family. Isn't the twins' turnday coming up?"

A'zric shakes his head, "Naw, you're half a turn off for the twins." he laughs, "I think Zaemina might not understand being an aunt yet."

Zynassa grins. "You think? She should be crawling soon. Wonder who mother's going to foster her with."

Ouryn enters from the narrow corridor.
Ouryn has arrived.

Your location's current time: 14:59 on day 6, month 8, Turn 35, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer afternoon.

Zynassa is settled at a table with A'zric. There is a plate of nibbles between them, and both have glasses of wine.

The hot, muggy breezes off the seas blow through the living cavern in listless breaths, bringing upon their tides a certain Steward armed with a leather satchel strapped over one shoulder. Setting the bundle upon a spare table, Ory takes forth a few pairs of scissors and bottles of ointment; a few kitchen women know what this means. "I must get this cut!" one of them says, shaking her shaggy locks at another worker.

Mouse enters from the narrow corridor.
Mouse has arrived.

Zynassa gives Ouryn a faintly apprehensive look, overhearing the comments about cutting. She surrupticiously sits on the end of her long braid, using the pretext of reaching for a bit of cheese. "Afternoon, Steward. My, isn't it hot today?"

"Six foster sisters is what taught me this trade," Ory grins amiably to a honey-haired lass of fifteen turns perhaps, a hearth-woman whose long hair makes it difficult to turn the spits and work about the fires. "Aye, it is indeed," he calls over to Zynassa, playfully snipping towards her with the largest shears.

Mouse steps in, head ducked despite the fact that there's no need to get through that entryway.

Zynassa waggles a finger at Ouryn. "Don't even." The warning is amiably enough given, and she offers a smile to Mouse as she comes on in. "Brought it a couple of sacks of 'claws today, Mouse, before it got too hot out to hunt 'em." A finger rises up to her pink nose, "And I imagine I'll be in to the healers for some aloe afore the day is over."

Radar enters from the narrow corridor.
Radar has arrived.

Wiping his brow with the back of one hand, Ory whistles between his teeth as a gust of sultry wind teases through the cavern, and shivers up his back. The honey-haired Musa sits patiently, eyeing with furtive glances the locks that tumble to her feet from the flashing scissors in the Steward's hand. Soon enough, he is finished, and with a grin holsd out a piece of polished metal so she may look at herself.

Radar walks out of the bathing pools, hair still dripping water down his shirt. "Hey, everyone! How are things going today?"

Musa gives first a little shriek, though the outburst is one of surprise and delight, as much as shock that her waist-length tresses now come no further than mid-back. Layered and waved over her ears and high off her crown, its a cut that can be held back by a ribbon and kept from the flames of the hearths. Giggling like a little, and kissing the blushing Ory on one cheek, she runs back to her post to gossip about the experience.

Mouse flinches at the pitch of the shriek, but nods to Zynassa. "Oh good," she offers after a moment. "We could always use more, I know that. Why don't you go there soon before it starts to peel?"

Using a little broom to neatly sweep up fallen hair, Ory casts his soft sea-green gaze upon the assistant headwoman ... and her tumbled, wild mane of untamed locks. Finishing his chore, the Steward scrubs a large hand through his spiked crown, and approaches. "Heyla, Mouse," his deep voice is a little shy. "I'm cutting hair today. Maybe you would ... like to have a go?" He sounds hopeful.

Radar nods and says, "Go on, Mouse. It looks like he does good work."

Zynassa nods to Mouse, after another sip fo her wine. Someone's taking an afernoon easy, it seems. "I likely will. It's not bad though." As for the hair cutting, she offers no opinion, save to eye Ouryn's shears mistrustfully.

Ouryn flashes a grin of thanks to the Weaver journeyman, and nods to Mouse, hoping she will agree. "You have lovely hair," he coaxes. "I promise not to leave you bald." That last remark is paired with a saucy wink as Ory chuckles at his own joke. Well, he's trying at least. "And then of course you, Zynassa. What a long braid," he cannot help teasing, snipping with the shears again.

Mouse blinks, looks at the scissors as well. "It's - um - just hair. It doesn't matter what it looks like, does it?" She starts to run her hand through her hair, but stops when she gets caught in a knot that hasn't been brushed out lately.

Radar sees Zynassa in the corner and calls out, "There you are! I've been looking for you today." He gets up from his seat and walks over to her, laying a large package on the table.

Ouryn sets the shears upon the table, gently. "It matters what -you- look like," Ory is quick, though soft, to emphasize, reaching out with one large hand to try and detangle the knot with deft fingers. "You are an assistant to the Headwoman .. its a position of some pride and authority." Hopefully Mouse will not be insulted by his words, and the Steward bites his lower lip in consternation. "So what do you say?"

Zynassa makes sure said braid is tucked well under her. "I've not had my hair cut in about five turns. And I'm not about to start now, though thank you for the offer, Ouryn." This last is said a trifle primly. As Radar puts the package before her, however, all sense of propriety is lost. She actually flutters. "Oooh! It's here? Really? Can I go try it on?"

Mouse hesitates again. "I should probably at least comb it," she admits. "What are you going to do? Just trim it? I like it long - it doesn't get in my way. Just knotted."

Radar grins widely and nods. "It's all finished. You can try it on whenever you're ready."

A'zric has disconnected.

Ouryn covers his mouth with one hand at Zynassa's squeal, obscuring whatever emotion played out upon his features. To Mouse, the Steward gives a little courtly bow. "I'll not do anything you wish me not to do," he promises solemnly, "simply a trim so you may care for your hair more prope- more easily," he decides to say instead.

Zynassa gathers up the package and hurries off to the dorms, calling over her shoulder, "I'll try it on, and get my pouch as well. Back in half a moment!" She is gone in a whirlwind, fairly sprinting in her eagerness.

Zynassa(#6784PJOce$)
Before you is a young woman in her middle to late teenage turns. Tall and quite slight, she looks as though a strong wind might blow her away. Her hands are work roughened, with strong, thick wrists - a trifle out of place on her slender frame. A quicksilver smile comes easily to her lips, though laughter isn't always to follow. Deep blue-grey eyes, the color of a summer storm, are quiet and a trifle reserved. Her dark brown hair has sun-streaks at the temples and has been braided for practicality, the plait reaching nearly to mid thigh. A set of cords holds the braid fast, twining up into the rope - the colors of Bitra Hold.
Hanging from Zynassa's shoulders is a light, fluttery Gather dress. The linen is a soft blue-gray, matching her eyes. The neckline is a shallow V with thin shoulder straps. A diagonal hemline flows from about knee knee-length on the right side and down to mid-calf on the left side. The dress is just loose enough that it skims her body instead of hugging it, the narrow skirt showcasing her slender legs. A translucent layer of sisal is sewn over the linen, dyed in lighter swirled shades of blue and gray, allowing the linen to show through. The sisal hemline is about 2" higher, and flutters every time she moves. Sandals dyed to match with thin linen straps complete the outfit. She always wears a small silver bracelet on her left wrist. The delicate links hold two charms: one in the shape of a runner, the other in shape of a tiny dragon. About Zynassa's shoulder is a simple knot in orange and black, showing her to be a resident of Ista Weyr.

Zynassa(#6784PJOce$) owned by Zynassa(#6784PJOce$) looked at you.

Mouse eventually goes over to the bench, and brushing any of the blonde hair that may litter it, sits down. "All /right/," she says after a moment. "It'll probably look better when I bother to wear a dress anyhow."

A dress? Mouse in a dress? Ory's powers of persuasion are even greater than he imagined! Nodding eagerly, the Steward gestures to the bench, as his newest client sits down. "Of course, of course!" he grins, taking up a brush and gently <surprising for such a large man, with such thick fingers> untangling the unruly locks that tumble from Mouse's crown. "When -did- you last comb this?" he peevishly asks.

Zynassa is back in a flash, fussily brushing at skirts and a sisal overlayer. Easy to tell she was fostered in a Hold, from the quick change. "The sandals fit just *perfectly* Radar. And the dress sits just right, I'd say?" Her tone arches upwards on that last, inviting others to judge.

Mouse admits after a moment, "Don't remember. Probably last day I slept in. Um - eight, nine days ago." Her eyes look over to Zynassa, even if she can't move her head right now. "It's much nicer then my dress."

Radar looks over Zynassa from top to bottom, and smiles. "It looks like it fits just right. And that color really brings out your eyes."

Ouryn whistles his appreciation, even as he works on Mouse's head. "You look lovely," he admits without preamble or obsequious flattery. "Like some kind of avian," the large man blushes, feeling foolish at having said something like that. He concentrates instead on the tumbled locks before him, running the brush through with even strokes until the hair is surprisingly soft and smooth. "Next I'll trim the ends ... if the hairs split, it can be unhealthy as well as difficult to manage," he explains softly while working.

Zynassa beams at Mouse. "Well, just talk to Radar here about a new one. He's the one all credit is due for this." To the weaver she says, "I'm *so* pleased. I really am. I can't wait to have a good excuse to wear it." Her pouce is snagged, and she passes the marks owed deftly to the weaver. Ouryn's comment gets a pleased little grin and a quiet, "Thank you."

Radar pockets the marks discreetly and smiles. "You're welcome. Feel free to let me know if you need anything else." He pauses and says, "Well, in a few sevendays. I have another commission to finish first." He rises and says, "Have fun in here!"

Radar walks down the corridor.
Radar has left.

Mouse sits very still and patiently, even if at first she /does/ flinch every time the brush actually touches her head instead of her hair. "I'll have to," she states. "The only dress I have is blue and too - um, low - to wear everywhere."

Ouryn chuckles softly, wondering where Mouse would have aquired such a thing in the first place. Soon her locks are brushed, gleaming, and laying across her shoulders like a mantle. And then the shears begin to snip. Snip, snip, snip. And the curling fingerlength bits fall about her feet like little scavengers seeking a home.

Zynassa confides to Mouse, "He really does do nice work. And he's fairly reasonable. I've already won back half of what this cost me. But: I better run and change. Faranth knows, I'd likely get something on me if I just sat in the caverns with it on." She is gone again, and for some moments before she meanders back in to take up her seat once more.

Mouse probably took it from Stores. Not much sized for people her height and build, so no harm done. She peers down at the bits as they fall, but doesn't move away from the scissors. "How much are you taking /off/?"

Ouryn chuckles, though gently, lest Mouse become alarmed at his humor. "Enough so you can manage this mop into something attractive, and still be able to keep yourself healthy, and clean," he replies in a brisk, no-nonsense tone tinged with warm mirth. The shears continue to trim, layering, the long locks somehow suddently becoming fuller under his ministrations; "Close your eyes," the Steward warns, as he begins to snip at her crown and bangs.

Zynassa curls a hand about her wine glass, and watches quietly. "It looks just fine Mouse, honest." Is her tone a trifle surprised? Well, perhaps, but only a trifle.

Mouse obediently closes her eyes. "Why? - I know that tone of voice, what'd he do to my head?"

Ouryn sighs resolutely as he finishes his work upon the crown and bangs of Mouse's locks. "Do you really think I would deliberately ruin your appearance?" he asks a little tersely; probably tired of so many people doubting his sensibility. "I had -six- foster sisters, you know," the Steward confides to take the edge off his words. "And I got to cut -all- their hair. You think if I messed up on them, they would let me go?"

Zynassa quips goodnaturedly, "Depends on how fast you can run?" She grins then, settling down more comfortably. "I just like my hair the way it is.. That's all."

Mouse says, starting to shrug but stopping half-way, "No. Not on purpose. But by mistake, maybe. I have seven brothers and they all did stupid things by mistake."

A pair of ribbons are fished out of the satchel, and left to lay on the table as Ory finishes snipping at Mouse's locks, layering along the bottom curve of her sweeping hair, tousling her bangs and finishing his work before he takes up the silky blue lengths of sisal and begins to plait. He grunts at the mention of stupid brothers.

A few more brushings, a snip here and a snip there, a tying of sisal ribbons, and Ory is done with Mouse's head. "Here you go," he sighs a little, handing the assistant headwoman the polished metal mirror for inspection. The large man holds his breath, wondering what she will say.

Ealia walks in from the bowl.
Ealia has arrived.

Mouse's hair has been cut and styled so the tumbles which once reached mid-back now only layer in soft locks a fingerlength below her narrow shoulders. A high crown of bangs similarly cut frames her face, long tendrils brushing just above her brows and softly curling to her throat. A pair of slender plaits are beribboned at her temples, and tie off at each shoulder.

Mouse takes the mirror and looks in it briefly. "It looks much better then before!" she says with a smile as she tilts it around so as to see the side of her head. "Thank you!"

Ouryn blushes, glad his work was recieved ... well. "And now its more easily managed," he adds shyly. "And you can use the plaits to hold back the rest of your hair, like so," he demonstrates by taking the braids, and pulling them back to hold away the rest of her locks, and securing them at the nape of her neck. "You look much more like an assistant headwoman now," the Steward's comment is gentle.

Zynassa mmms, nodding approvingly. "It does look rather responsible and grown up, Mouse. I like it. Easier to see your face like that," she teases lightly. "And that's always a good thing."

Ouryn winks at Zynassa over the head of the assistant headwoman. "Yes," he mouths the word, nodding eagerly. With short shrift the Steward gathers his shears and such together, placing it all back into the pack. "And now I think I will rest a while, and look over some hides, and perhaps get a bite to eat," he pats his flat belly in anticipation. "I'm glad you like it, Mouse."

Mouse smiles, moving the plait around so it settles well. "Why would you want to see my face? It's not /that/ nice to look at." To Ouryn, she nods, standing with a smile. "Thanks for convincing me to do it."

Ouryn nods, smiling, and takes off down the corridor with a jaunty whistle.

Ouryn walks down the corridor.
Ouryn has left.

Zynassa gives a wave to Ouryn, a relieved expression flickering across her face as the shears are packed away. Then she says to Mouse, "I always like to see who I'm talking to. Then again, I like to try to read people's eyes. Maybe it comes from being a Bitran." She shrugs wryly.

Mouse laughs at that. "Probably. I've never been up to Bitra - how is it?"

Zynassa smiles. "Terribly different to here. It doesn't get nearly as hot, and there's not as much greenery around. There's always a game or two to be found, and folks willing to start one if there isn't. You birthed here, Mouse? Or from somewhere close by?"

Mouse shakes her head. "Twin Hold near Keroon. I was - um - Searched here a few Turns back, and after I went home I wanted to come back here because I liked it better."

Zynassa ahs. "Lucky - to be searched I mean. Mother, father and brother all riders, and a dragon's never twitched so much as an ear in my direction." Her tone is bemused. "Even if you didn't impress, just means your dragon's not been shelled yet. How old were you? If you don't mind talking about it, I mean?"

Mouse shakes her head. "I don't mind... I was ten. I turned eleven while I was here though. Da thought I was too young, but Ma thought I should go anyway, so I went."

Zynassa whistles. "That is young. Twin hold, you said? Don't suppose your family raises runners, do they?" Her tone is hopeful as she inquires.

Mouse shakes her head. "Just one, and it was Da's. We raise ovines. And herdbeasts. And we had one caprine who always got lost. And a couple egg-layers."

Zynassa ahs, her expression a trifle disappointed. "So how'd you end up as assistant headwoman here? If you don't mind me asking." She grins. "I'm full of nosey questions today."

Mouse laughs. "That's all right, I didn't think I was that interesting. When I came back home after the Candidacy, I got bored. It's a little place, and except for my brothers, not many people to talk to and none my age. I have seven brothers, by the way. They found out about the nickname I got and I hadn't heard the end of it in Turns, so I came back and worked in Stores 'till Grissa decided she wanted me to help out.

Zynassa nods sympathetically, "I've three and that's more than enough for me. Are they all older? Or are you a middle kid?"

Mouse isn't very tall, and appears to be going to lengths to make herself smaller. Mouse's hair has been cut and styled so the tumbles which once reached mid-back now only layer in soft locks a fingerlength below her narrow shoulders. A high crown of bangs similarly cut frames her face, long tendrils brushing just above her brows and softly curling to her throat. A pair of slender plaits are beribboned in blue at her temples, and tie off at each shoulder. Her eyes, now revealed, are quite large and a variable hazel; usually quite green, at times they appear more brown or grey or blue then usual. Her face is fairly slight, that of a slim young woman. Standing about five feet and an inch, Mouse's stature isn't helped by the half-slouch she carries herself in at almost all times.

Mouse wears, at present, work clothes a few sizes too big for her; she tends to look rather like a sack in them, as they completely hide her form. They're brown, not particularly well-made, and frequently patched from mishaps. A colourful contrast is the knot of a resident at Ista Weyr, orange and black stark against the plain brown.

Mouse shrugs. "Middle. Three older, four younger. Two of the youngers are twins."

Zynassa blinks at Mouse, warming. "Really? I've two older, three younger. And two of the younger are twins too." She laughs, "Maybe it was an epidemic or something? How old are your twin brothers? Mine're like three turns younger. Be sixteen in abouter few months."

Mouse giggles. "Why do you think we're called Twin Hold? - They're the youngest. They turn eleven this Turn; I'm seventeen. The oldest is twenty-five."

Zynassa laughs. "Point taken. Remind me to avoid the place - I don't think Yaz is ready to be an uncle just yet." Her tone is positively wicked and she relents, "Not as though I'm looking or anything. I'm more interested in breeding runners than I am people."

Mouse flushes, briefly. "All the families around there are big; I think it's from boredom." she admits. "You like working with runners?"

Zynassa nods, grinning a bit at the comment about boredom. "I do, yes. I've been considering apprenticing with the beastcraft, but I'd rather *just* learn about runners, and I don't think you can pick and choose there."

Mouse nods. "Ah. Well, maybe you can; I don't know. Anyhow - I have to get back to work, I didn't budget to have my hair cut.

Zynassa rises, carefully finishing off he last drops of her wine. "And I'd better get to the healers for that aloe, or my nose'll peel worse than a tunnelsnake's. I'll see you around dinner, Mouse. And the haircut does look just great."

Mouse nods, smiling. "Thanks. I th ink I like it too. I'll see you then."

Zynassa gives a wave, and heads off in the direction of the infirmary.

Description | Logs | Links | History | Email

All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern™ is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Many thanks to Alec Johnson for his assistance with this information!