Crop Circles [Secret Ephemerae Meeting!]

[Lotty]

The long stalks of milo rustled together in the heavy night air, their yellowing, parched, leaves shaking with extra vigor as they opened up and gave way for the figure who moved against them. It was late in the season, the grain usually being reaped the month before, but as it was after a wet summer it was left to dry up, standing sulkily. Hanging... Waiting... Bowing under their own weight, and left to be taken the next week... next day... soon enough that any flattened beds the gathering left would go unnoticed by sweeps and left as only tall tale and myth. Halos in the crops were to be just another delusion of the Lighttower farmer, his rambles sure to go unheard, any stories told being just as ridiculous as that of invaders from beyond the stars, when the true culprits were no more than visitors of a very domestic sort. One way or another, the evidence would be gone with the harvest, and true fear presided only with that of getting caught in the act itself. A waning concern as one considered the sheer height of their cover - growing tall and almost wild, the sorghum even loomed over the rider's head. Even his dragon was sufficiently hidden amongst the blazingly red seed pods that dotted the tops of field.

The bustling stopped when he came to a natural depression in the ground where the boggy wetness drowned out the forage and the crop was unable to grow thick or high. In the sparse patch he would wait then, dropping a basket at his feet as the last of his actions before leaning against his cane so still, so very still as to be confused for nothing more than a scarecrow. He looked only once then - up to the sky, past the pointed tips of the grain - in search of a dark silhouette which could mask the little lights for a moment when wing beats made the stars flicker, but for now there was only nothing. But even the gentle brush of the wind or buzz of the insects were probably all more than he could ever hope for. This was after all something of a risky endeavor, and he wouldn't blame a soul for passing on the option to come... admittedly even he was afraid... just a little, not to mention the fact that baked good promises didn't seem like the best selling point in the world. But when one had nothing else to offer...

They will come mine... someone will... The paranoid filled in the trailed off sentence, If only to turn me in, bland as the reply was, it was considered that the rider frankly didn't care if he was, and long pauses started to punctuation the exchange. You underestimate your cohort. Not nearly as much as I do myself.

Silence again, filled by that faint familiar sound of the field's natural clatter. Mi'rah realized that he very well could be here all night to stew in his own thoughts, but then he was ready for that. After all he didn't particularly need the support of his long lost wing, but he sure as hell wanted it if they would give it. Hence the meeting. Hence the letters he had to distribute in the night, the odd messages that surely made the few surviving former members of Ephemerae snicker or groan, Is it possible the old man has lost his mind? Possible, but then, that wouldn't explain that sixth sense... the peripheral knowledge that someone or something was moving around back there, forcing the sorghum to drop it's seeds in patches as a body pushed past their grassy stems. It could be a friend... could also be a foe, but despite the nervous jitter the bronzerider was resigned to any fate that may befall him. Motionless he waited for the appearance of that first - if not only - arrival and the inevitable questioning that would follow regardless of who it was to break that line of stalks and show their face.

If you've ever had a character on the Ephemerae Wing they are invited via a note and the promise of cupcakes, I was just too lazy to send out a PM. If you are not sure, then basically anyone who was on Mi'rah's wing at any time pre-Wasteland. If you still aren't sure, just send them in anyway, we can make it up!

[Tashe]

Silence, like a cancer born of need, seemed to surround them. The wind clawed at the Rider's black hair, and the night chill bit at his face. They were flying in the higher altitudes trying to draw as little suspicion to their passage as possible, they hoped any eyes who saw simply turned away and called the flicker a trick of the eye. Lighttower Hold. An interesting place and an unwelcoming one. Perhaps a dangerously perfect place to hold a meeting in the cover of night. When K'thay had found the note on his pillow he had felt a sense of Deja Vu, he'd been wary of it until he recognized the scrawl. He would be, perhaps, the first to admit his surprise that Mi'rah would call together a secret meeting... he never thought the man had it in him to be so, whats the word, subversive? The Bluerider could only guess what this meeting would be about, but he knew what he hoped it would be.

There. He nudged Castidenloth gently with his mind, locating the Sorghum field that had been referred to in the letter. Swiftly they descended, dropping into the tall stalks and making use of the cover they provided. Hopping out from his harness, K'thay rubbed the Blue behind the eyeridge before pushing his way through the closely planted stalks. Castidenloth curled up into the smallest ball he could manage, reducing his size an covering his legs, tail and neck with one of his wings. He was, after all, just a big boulder.

K'thay had been hesitant at first, not entirely wanting to go. He'd worked so hard to not draw any sort of attention to himself throughout the last Turn that attending this meeting was practically dangerous. It was fortunate though, that he no longer flew under Ja'kin's leadership, flying for G'tor was a much more... easy thing to do. Less scrutiny, less suspicion, and more importantly more freedom. Covering his face as he sneezed, K'thay angled his arm so it would absorb most of the sound. Just because he knew Mi'rah was up ahead, didn't mean he could be loud. Shard blasting Sorghum, it messed with his nose on occasion. And then suddenly, the plants simply, stopped. Or rather, stopped being tall. The Bluerider caught himself before he stumbled, righting his footing and stepping forward. Locating his old Wingleader, he narrowed his eyes and smiled, offering the Bronzer one of his flourishing salutes as he moved to stand by Mi'rah. It was more of a playful gesture, not so much of a mocking one. But the other man knew it, it wasn't the first time the Bluerider had saluted him in such a fashion. "I heard there was cupcakes, I just couldn't resist." Then more seriously he said, "Whats the haps big guy? A super secret meeting in the middle of a crop field is kinda sketchy."

[Rowana]

Ruskeath's dark hide blending into the night very well. Not as well as if he'd been dark blue, but still well enough to keep all but the most observant watchers. The long brown circled down to land gently at the edge of the field, finding cover under the outlying trees and tall plants. G'tor let out a slow breath and slid to the ground. He was nervous. Sneaking around with the rest of Ephemerae before had been new and exciting. Now it was a deadly business with very real consequences if they were caught. Even so far from familiar ground and this late at night, it was still a big risk so many of them meeting like this.

It will be well, Ruskeath assured him with a nudge in the right direction. You hate doing nothing more. G'tor smiled sheepishly in the dark, earning a flash of Ruskeath's calm eyes. The brown was alert, but no more disturbed that he was any other day. He didn't take much stock in worrying about things he couldn't control, unlike his rider. G'tor left Ranchan on Ruskeath's harness to keep him company and slipped among the crops with Tervain and Star hiding at his shoulders. Fair skies, friends, Ruskeath whispered to the other dragons present, careful to keep any unwanted watches from hearing.

It wasn't long before G'tor found Mi'rah and K'thay hidden by the thick plants. He had to admit, this meeting spot was pretty good, even for their Wingleader. Hidden, far from home and civilization. It even had enough cover to hide their dragons. If only their luck would hold and no one followed them. "Cupcakes?" G'tor felt himself relax ever so slightly with the amusing comment. "I hope Kierjaarth didn't eat them all." Then he too became more serious, keeping his voice low. "What's the word, Wingleader?"

[Ruby]

Before Triage Wing, before Alpha Wing, before Wasteland, Serissa had been on Ephemerae Wing. It had been a fairly short stint, little more than a turn, and Serissa had never been close with her Wingmates, not even K'thay. She hadn't been sure, then, that he was the K'thay she remembered, and he had been equally wary. No, it was Wasteland that had shown his hand, when she'd been there to see it. Before, she'd been a defect Fort rider, afraid of getting too close to anyone. Honestly, she was surprised that Mi'rah remembered she'd been on his wing at all. It was curiosity more than anything that had her strapping Ildyth up so late at night; curiosity, recklessness, and that unending desire to torment Mi'rah. He was just begging for it.

So she went, Serissa and Ildyth betweening from within her weyr to the forest, then following to coordinates to... Lighttower? Maybe the old man had lost it, after all. Well, they were here already, and it would be silly to go back now. Ildyth was blathering the whole way about how he was so good at flying at night, he was better than everyone at flying at night. Even after Serissa told him to be quiet, the Blue kept it up, just at a lower volume. All in all, it was something of a relief to leave the hyperactive pale creature under the trees - he practically glowed at night, not a good thing to leave lying around a field in Lighttower - and trudge off into the... whatever this plant was.

It wasn't long before she found the gathering, they were quiet but in a field in the middle of nowhere they weren't THAT quiet. Mi'rah, of course, G'tor, and, oh how lovely. K'thay. Sliding in next to her fellow Bluerider, she hooked an arm through his, going up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek before shooting a distinctly cocky look at Mi'rah. The only woman, what a shame. She'd caught what G'tor and K'thay had said, and felt the need to add only, "So?"

[Lotty]

So there were three... Mi'rah didn't know whether or not to be disappointed or pleased. Statistically it was a good turn out, better even than he expected (he was going to be surprised if he had one), but still it hardly made even a small wing. He was holding out hope however that another may show... somebody... and for this reason he stalled a bit in his answers. It wasn't like that was a hard thing to do when you tie up your words as often as the bronzerider managed to, "Cupcakes? Indeed I do..." and with a poke of his cane, he flipped off the towel from his basket to show those sugary, sweet icing topped pastries he had promised. They were definitely not a product of the rider himself, he couldn't bake if he tried much less put in the effort to decorate the things with the lavish frosting and superfluous klah sprinkles, "a girl in the infirmary f-furnished them..." he explained to them with something of a shrug. He wasn't privy on why she had been so keen on making the dozen of them, but then he hadn't been all too forward on why he needed them. Secrets just seemed to multiply and thrive around the man, growing like weeds to strangle out his intentions.

"You flatter me G'tor," he said to the brownrider... it was a perfect segue way into what it is that he gathered them for. The fact was that he wasn't a wingleader anymore. He only was to those who regarded him as such, and he needed a tally on exactly how many people that is, "I... actually wanted to ask about that. About the wing," he began to explain, making sure to catch eye contact with those who had gathered. After all, he didn't know how much participation he could get with Serissa hanging on K'thay like that - as humored as he was by it, "I... had been thinking in the past erm few days about Ephemerae.... about - you know...." clearly he was rather stymied by his inability to just get the words out, and with a clearing of his throat he tried again, "When I was told to assemble the w-wing... and pick all of you... we were originally supposed to be the secret back up, to the back up," ridiculous it sounded to him at the time, but in this moment he understood, "We never served our purpose.... when Wasteland came, I assumed us dissolved," and now the words hung for a moment, "that was my mistake, I'm sorry."

"I should have asked all of you... consider me a turn late," for lack of elegance in his delivery he at least had some gravitas. This was the purpose of this meeting... he needed the will of his fellows before jumping head first into any silly suicidal plans, "but I'm asking you now if you're willing to stick with me. I - I um.... I understand if you won't... you may have obligations to which I can't relate to abide by...or y-you may even just thrive under the new regime... thats fine," not really, and honestly he doubted the gathering of Selenitas and Fort natives would care much for the C'leon-Crew. He had been very deliberate in picking his wing, "You can grow complacent... but I am not going that route again."

Mi'rah knew very well his own history, his own tendency to - much like the milo in the field - grow tall and go far only to be cut down and reaped for all of his worth, and he refused to be a victim again. It was old, and he had become too frustrated, "If you want out, you are free to go, but if you want to keep the wing together and say we got the job done..... because... well I am not waiting for S'rei or our exile friends to come save us."

[Tashe]

Wrinkling his nose as G'tor stepped through the curtain of plants, the Bluerider gave him a half-hearted salute as well. It was more than amusing that both his current and his ex-wingleader were here, it definitely boosted his willingness to proceed with whatever Mi'rah had planned. When the Bronzerider revealed the cupcakes, K'thay stooped down and plucked one out. It was blue with pink sprinkles. Mmm... it looked good. Speaking of good looking, Serissa was the next to arrive. He watched as she paced over to him and took up his arm, winking after he received a kiss on the cheek. Licking some of the frosting off of the cupcake top, he listened quietly as Mi'rah began to talk. So it was about their old wing. Not that he hadn't expected it to be, you don't meet in secret in the middle of a random Lighttower crop field just to catch up after all.

He slowly devoured his cupcake as the Bronzer finished speaking, leaving off by giving the three of them a choice. Whether or not to secretly reconstitute the Ephemerae Wing. Drawing a thumb along the sides of his mouth and licking off the collected frosting, K'thay sighed and looked between his peers. "Well its a mighty risky thing you're asking us to do." He planted a fist against his hip. "But... I don't like the Wastelanders regime. If the others were going to save us they'd have done it already." A pause. "I'm about as uncomfortable around them as a cat who's tail is too close to the fire. Always think I'm going to get burned if I even put a toe out of line." K'thay grinned. "So if I'm going to go down I'd rather do it spectacularly. You've got my allegiance big guy. Once a snowflake always a snowflake."

Shifting his weight he looked around, noting that no one else had shown up so far. "Also, we're a mighty small group right now. Didn't we have more wingmates?"

[Rowana]

G'tor was impressed. He hadn't actually expected real cupcakes. He wondered what Mi'rah had told the infirmary girl he wanted them for. Well, it was a shame to let her hard work to go waste, so he helped himself to one while his old Wingleader spoke. It was odd not to think of himself in Mi'rah's wing anymore. Granted, he only had a handful in his new Wing, but it was still more people than he'd ever thought to be leading by himself. Times had certainly changed if they were relying on him as a leader.

"We were all trying to avoid more violence, Mi'rah," G'tor smiled and shrugged. "Don't apologize. I think I was also hoping S'rei and the others would be coming back to help. But you're right, we can't wait for them anymore. What happens next time Millieth clutches? Or Nitrath? We nearly lost Behruth, not to mention the weyrlings." G'tor shook his head at the memory. "Pretty soon, no one will want to send their children to us." Not that that stopped some of the Wastelanders from taking them. If this went on, pretty soon people would be hiding their children when they saw dragons come, Threadfall or no Threadfall.

Nodding gratefully at K'thay's positive response, G'tor add his own. "So I'm in too. I couldn't live with myself, if I didn't at least try."

[Ruby]

Leaving an arm hooked through K'thay's, Serissa snuck a finger out, scooping a dollop of frosting off the top of the Bluerider's cupcake while Mi'rah spoke. Considering the sticky-sweetness - had to be Erilena that made them, then, not that she could really imagine Kalierre or Asharra or the others baking - she disentangled herself to swoop down and grab a cupcake of her own, polishing it off with surprising speed. How Serissa managed to keep her figure was anyone's guess; she loved sweets. And meat. And just about anything covered in butter.

She was done by the time Mi'rah finished his piece, but the Bluerider kept worrying at the paper liner, licking off whatever residual frosting she could. Interesting idea, and even more interesting that K'tahy and G'tor were ready to pledge themselves to some hidden cause without much thought. How did any of them know one of them wouldn't report to H'nes as soon as they got back to the Weyr? Then again, they'd probably already condemned themselves by coming here, Serissa doubted that rejecting the offer now would save them much, unless the one that did the rejecting also did the reporting. She considered the option briefly, but discarded it quickly enough. Mi'rah had brought cupcakes, after all.

Honestly it was K'thay's choice more than anything that decided Serissa, as much as she would have liked to blame the cupcakes. "K'thay's in, I'm in. I was never much of a snowflake -" She said it with a sardonic little smile, everyone knew it was true after all and denying it would just be suspicious "- but us ex-Fortians have to stick together, especially if it means I might get to poke holes in a few Bendeners." This time, her grin was pure evil. Serissa was a lot of things, but surprising would always be one of them. To see that sort of flippant bloodlust from the pretty blonde was certainly disconcerting.

Pursing her lips (prettily), she added, "But K'thay's right again, what are we going to do with only four of us?" She let the question hang, waiting for Mi'rah. She had a theory, but there was no way the Bronzerider was going to like it; better to see what he had in mind first.

[Lotty]

His senses were adjusting. The rattle of the stalks were drifting away into the low hush of white noise, his heartbeat subsided, and all but the most obtrusive of sound became the normal rhythm of the environment. A footstep there was not in the rows, nor a breath from anything but resting dragons and it was exactly these irregularities then that he would listen for in between the words and thoughts of the gathered, but little else. To be aware was one thing, but distracted was another, and Mi'rah was nothing if not a focused man. With a hand both gently thumbing at his chin and taking away from the 'aw geeze' grin of his - the one that was no doubt spurred by the absolute and total glee he derived from his attendees throwing their swords into the cause - he nodded along, shifting his pale eyes only momentary for the sight of something that may break the red dappled canopy above them. Confident that nothing was out and about he took a moment to softly clear his throat before elaborating first on K'thay's question before he got to his evil awful plans.

"You're right K'thay. W-we had a lot more... at one point anyway. We lost a few to both death and escape in the..erm initial take over. A couple others just haven't showed. T'san... Dorava...." but then he didn't really blame them, and on a lighter note, it meant that many more cupcakes could be shared amongst those who did show. The rather alluring sweetness of the pastries seemed to just radiate from the basket, to the point where the man was about to break his rule of not eating in front of people... but alas, "Perhaps they c-could... be persuaded eventually?" Though he really did not favor pressuring anybody into this. It was the sort of commitment after all that required a higher level of participation, and the bronzerider was not so sure that anybody whose hand needed to be forced would be an effective member of the team. If anything, he wanted to cut the fat and not be hindered, "I am... not too worried. We don't need.. many wingmembers." However he did need lots of support.

"I s-suppose, this means that step one... is we need to recruit," he suspected as much from the beginning though, "Natives, Fortians...." he paused and gave Serissa a mischievous look as he ever so subtly rebutted against her jab at Bendeners, "there are even those of the Benden persuasion who aren't so bad... you know. I trust your better judgment in finding riders... as well as your alibis," which was probably the more important group of people at this stage. Mi'rah already had his own, though, it came about largely through pillow talk. Kalierre unfortunately gave the man the gift of gab - though he suspected it was in part due to her mistake of telling hm that she liked his stutter. It was just all the more reason to use it then, "You are um... going to need them," and he was going to tell them why, "How do all of you feel about happy accidents? You know, whose to say that some of the Wastelanders don't check their straps before they fly?"

Certainly they couldn't win back an entire weyr this way. But it was however a start, and every day that the Wastelanders were set back was another day that they would not have to be launched into battle in the North.

[Ruby]

There were indeed more cupcakes for the rest of them without the other Wingriders K'thay had mentioned, so Serissa helped herself to a second one. The second cupcake disappeared as quickly as the first, leaving the Bluerider to lick the sugary frosting off her fingers (of course she ate the bottom of the cupcake first, leaving the top of the cake and the frosting for last - certainly the best way to dispose of a cupcake, if not the cleanest). She tried to be serious, given the fact that Mi'rah was discussing his lost comrades, but she could quite help looking a little too pleased about the food. It was just her way.

And then the Bronzerider finished talking, and there was a beat, and no one said anything. Serissa was waiting for someone else to speak up; she thought of herself as a junior member of this club, after all. Maybe they were just taking it all in, but Serissa wasn't exactly accustomed to waiting her turn if she had something to say, and as a Wingsecond she ranked right along with Mi'rah, technically. So what if it was triage wing. Maybe she was less of a junior member than she thought.

"So you're suggesting that we cause these happy accidents?" Just for the slow men among them, which apparently all of them were. "Wear out or score the straps, maybe a little fluxweed in the wine meant for the Wastelanders, that sort of thing? Are we talking scare tactics or seriously fatal accidents here? Flights might be a good time to put some of this into practice..." But now she was thinking aloud. Changing tacts with one of the sort of whiplash-inducing readjustments the Bluerider so enjoyed, she added, "I'd be your alibi, Mi'rah," Cue wink, "Except I'm already promised to K'thay. We're sleeping together, in case the entire Weyr hasn't heard already. Maybe we can set something up for you and G'tor?" The fisherman got an appraising look, but her mouth twisted sideways almost immediately. "We'll have to do something about that... manly quality..."

[Lotty]

To scare or to kill? Well, Mi'rah had definite opinions on this, though he wasn't so sure as to how his posse would take to a tactic so strong. With the night winds picking up, he took a moment to place his cane in the ground before him and lean his whole weight on it, rocking back and forth a bit as he considered his next words, "Well. Its as they say, dead men...tell no tales," unless one was the superstitious type and believed in ghosts. The bronzerider was most definitely not that type though, "We'll attract attention either way, at least if we aim to kill then we'll reduce the potential number of riders out for revenge, but uh, this is a p-personal philosophy..." Again he wondered how the others may take to this. Serissa was actually the one he was the least worried about, but K'thay and G'tor were being quiet.

Too quiet.

One could not blame him for being paranoid. It was in the nature of all bronzeriders on the planet, their days seemed to be ever numbered and Mi'rah always felt that he was already defying the odds and accruing a borrower's debt for every night that he got through. Worse yet was the fact that not many riders got to live out one life, and here he was starting on a second one. With this in mind he turned his eyes on the men, if the risk of betrayal wasn't there - he still had the hardest of times imagining the fisherman for one turning him into their Wastelander authorities - then there was still the fear that they would back out now before any plans could even materialize. So to them he directed his comments, "But yes, flights would be a good time act... just..." He wanted to tell them to use their gut, but it would seem unbelievable coming from a man who over thought everything.

Luckily he was interrupted, and by a smile no less. He couldn't help but laugh at yet another joke made about him and G'tor. It seemed to be some kind of theme around the weyr, did everyone have a secret fantasy going on? "I must say we could make one of the best looking couples around. A couple of b-bows in the hair could um.... go a long way I think..." he trailed off before switching gears again briefly, "On a more serious note... any more questions or c-concerns? If not you're free to...uh go."

[Rowana]

G'tor had been contemplating possible plans, so he didn't quite realize what Serissa was saying until Mi'rah responded. "What now?" he cocked his head curiously, trying not to smirk at the idea. "I don't know, Serissa," he shrugged with a wry smile. "How will I ever explain that one to Kaegan?" Not that he and the Weyrwoman were together of course, but he knew the rumors flew about that one too. Truthfully, he'd spent a bit more time with Dorova recently. It was less likely to incur the wrath of Wastelanders, but he did still like to see Kaegan whenever he could. The poor woman had more than enough to deal with without everyone suddenly avoiding her.

"As for the rest," G'tor's voice grew more serious. "While it's true it might be better to kill them, I can't say I'm a fan of that plan." He shook his head. It just wasn't in his nature to kill anyone without a very good reason, and not in cold blood. "No matter how bad they are, they're still riders and Pern needs all its dragons in the skies. That being said," he raised a hand to stop anyone from trying to change his mind. "I can't let what they did at Millieth's hatching slide. We need to show them that we won't simply let them change who we are."