==== July 13, 2013
==== Malaia, M'yck, W'rin
==== (I don't have the first part) W'rin interrupts a conversation between M'yck and Malaia about the jump forward.

Lake Shore
Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

"A weaver, right. But you're posted at the Weyr now?" He waits for a response quite impatiently before it clicks. "Ohh, no one talks to you about it." Shaking his head, "No. That's not why we did." Malaia and M'yck are standing near the lake's edge, the bright rays from Rukbat spilling down onto them. "They came with stories of what would happen if we stayed." The scowl temporarily disappears to allow a look of doubt. "Crap stories. But we came anyway, to help." A look around the Weyr, "Seems you lot weren't keeping the place up."

Malaia turns her head to glance towards the central bowl, then back again. "Not exactly my lot." Apparently slightly less than a Turn at Igen hasn't inspired a lot of solidarity within her. "And, well, it is a bit of a mess. Right. You mean the comet. Sorry, it's hard for me to keep track of all that stuff that happened…not now, you know?"

W'rin is at the end of a run, his steady pounding steps slowly as he reaches whatever invisible line he had set for himself in the sand. Perhaps he was using the two conversing people on the shore to track his end point, for when he reaches them he stops a few feet away to stretch. M'yck's words draw the giant wingleader's attention to the pair, "Weren't crap stories. At least none of the ones I told." He won't vouch for the rest of them. Taking an uninvited step towards the rider and weaver as he wipes sweat before it spills into his eyes, "Never said anything but giant comet is coming, and we fucking need fighting dragons." And that at least is the truth.

Allowing W'rin a moment to defend himself, M'yck then shakes his head and attempts to further persuade Malaia, "Crap." Turning towards the wingleader, the bluerider provides a salute before returning to a relaxed posture. "We came with fighting dragons. And we left a lot of good people behind." He's here, though.

Malaia ,lacking allegiances to both Now-Igen and Before-Reaches, is less inclined to be persuaded than merely curious. she nods politely to W'rin as he stops nearby and takes a step closer. "But couldn't they have come along too?" Forgive the naive crafter.

"Yes. You did. And we appreciate it." W'rin pauses, digging his tunic, tucked into a back pocket, out and struggling back into it. One should at least be clothed when having a serious conversation, even if it clings awkwardly to the dampness of his skin. "And for those who to fucking dumb realize it yet, I appreciate it for them too." His jaw sets and he regards M'yck one rider to another, the thought of lost friends is never far from the minds of those who have dragons. "I know." A grunted affirmation from a man who spent many days pulling both living and dead from caved in ruins before returning home. His eyes turn to Malaia for the firs time and he studies her for a moment before responding. "Everyone had to make choices, about where they were able to help Pern survive. Some made sure it made it till now. Some came forward to make sure it survives going forward." Time travel. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Snapping his gaze back to Mal, M'yck stares with hardened eyes. "Not easy to convince an entire people to uproot. We weren't moving across the plains, you know." After W'rin's words, "That, too." Affording himself a moment of silence for those left behind, his eyes fall to the ground and he shakes his head. "How long, now?" His question is to W'rin, as evidenced by his stare now upon the wingleader.

"Turn and a half." W'rin's assumption that M'yck is speaking about the coming Pass, it is after all where his mind constantly dwells. If those who chart the skies are right anyway. "Not much time." A somber tone to the woeful unreadiness of Igen Weyr.

"No time at all." As the two riders move on to rider business, M'yck squares himself to W'rin and nearly forgets about Malaia. "A Turn and a half…" The bluerider shakes his head as he turns his gaze to the blue splashing about in the lake nearby. "Going to be interesting. How many fighting dragons do we have by now?"

W'rin head lower and raises slowly in agreement. "No time at all." A shrug of hefty shoulders and a sigh, "A lot of dragons left with the queens for Southern, but with the clutch - We're still small but if we can get everyone to fly without running into walls we may make it." His arms cross over his barrel chest as he studies M'yck, another rider who at least seems to understand what they are up against. "How are the Helions doing?"

Hesitating before he responds, M'yck's mannerisms will likely betray his words. "Good. Ready." Though, anyone well versed in the Guard's nature could second guess his assessment. "We may make it, though not all of us." The somber thought results in the dipping of his head once more. "Will you be with the Whirlies when it happens?"

"Good." Is W'rin's grunted response, making no comment if he recognizes M'yck's disbelief in his own statement. Thumb and forefinger press against his eyes as he rubs them with a grunt. "It's thread, we wouldn't all make it anyway. Just want to minimize that as much as I can." The man's final question draws a short pause from the wingleader who eventually shrugs, "I'd like to be, but what I want may not be what the weyr needs." He shrugs, his preference will always take a back seat to that. "So I'll be where the weyrleader asks me to be. And you? You fitting in with the Helions?"

Nodding as W'rin emits his grunts, "Right. It's bound to happen. Shit, happens without Thread." His head nods this time, "Yeah. Helions are my home." As his blue Oroqaith exits the lake with a canine-shake, M'yck's focus is diverted away from W'rin. "Looks like it is time to head out. Keep at it, rider." Offering another salute, M'yck turns on his heel and makes towards his lifemate and weyr.