Some considered them a nuisance; more trouble than they were worth. Others… well. Emra was used to reading about awe and fear of the Scientist and his creations.
But at long as they did not trespass in her domain, she did not care too much.
As long as they did not trespass.
Like this large giant of a man.
| Name Emra | |
| Age Young | |
| Appearance Small and unassuming with pale skin and dark hair usually worn in a neat and proper bun, Emra is neat and tidy, and barely takes up any physical or psychic space. She prefers to wear dark colors in shapes that do not highlight her figure. Prone to making small, tight movements, she is efficient; wasting very little movement and energy unless necessary. | |
| Personality Emra is quiet. Studious. She is easily lost in a crowd and gathering and sometimes hard to remember. Although some people have made passing comments that she looks very much like the flashy and flamboyant Tiskaya who is of Shy’s employ, their personalities are so vastly different that people do not realize how identical they are. Emra is quietly shy. She does not like to draw attention to herself and especially does not like to be part of loud, boisterous gatherings. If she could have her way she would remain lost in the crowds and forgotten. | |
| Ability Emra is human, although incredibly detail oriented. Ari enjoys her company and often tries to wile her away from her work, promising her riches if she would only help her take care of ‘the damn scientist’. |
The Scientist was back.
It was no surprise to Emra when the city seemed more chaotic- the scientist had been loud and sparkly always throwing grand events and ‘announcements’ to unveil his latest line of creatures. His projects, the beautiful and somewhat alien golden eyed people spilled through the city, fighting Death Court dragons, repairing buildings, and building a name for themselves.
Some considered them a nuisance; more trouble than they were worth. Others… well. Emra was used to reading about awe and fear of the Scientist and his creations.
But at long as they did not trespass in her domain, she did not care too much.
As long as they did not trespass.
Like this large giant of a man.
The Archivist stood with her arms crossed tightly around her chest, her foot tapping an impatient staccato on the floor. A frown marred her brows as she stared at the bear with the bushy blond beard. He was too big, too noisy to belong in her domain.
The books, the history belonged to her.
“You are one of his?”
Stoic grey eyes stared back and met her own, without that signature flash of molten gold. He nodded his head once. “Atlas.” he answered, his voice a low rumble that was too loud for her library.
“Emra.” she did not like that he had trespassed, but she was polite.
“The Archivist.” he answered.
She continued to stare.
“I… know of you.” he hedged, his words clumsy. “The Blood Court records keeper. I heard you have been keeping track of the Wars, and protecting the older records. That you might have information I need.”
Why would a Project need information? Emra’s frown deepened. “I have tried. The War-” she let out a noise that was half a grumble, half a sigh. “We managed to protect some, although many archives have been lost.”
Advanced technology at their fingertips, and what had the older record keepers decide to do? Keep handwritten scrolls. Scrolls! That could be damaged! “I’ve been moving most of what remains online, into servers.”
A small, odd quirk on the bear’s face that seemed to resemble a smile. “Traditionalist have always been fond of more… physical ways of preserving tomes.”
Emra nodded. One sharp movement of her head as her frown deepened. “Yes, quite.” she agreed. “What is it you need from me?” did he want to see the tallies and stories of the War? The devastation that had broken her heard to write of?
“Access to your old records of Pern.” he answered.
Pern?
The Archivists brow rose. “Which Pass?”
“Which timeline?” he asked back. He took her pause as an answer, and pushed forward. “I’ve been doing my own record keeping, of the multiple timelines that keep appearing. Alternate Passes, Weyrs that exist on top of Weyrs- I impressed Hereth in a different Pern, in a different Weyr.”
Impressed. Not bonded. A deliberate choice of words that had the Archivist pause again, and nod. “Let us speak, bear man.”
—
It was not such an odd friendship that sprung between the Cartographer and the Archivist. Both were quiet, stoic people. Both were passionate about tracking timelines and preserving events. One was a giant of a man (or bear man now, as he began to be known through the Vella Crean), and the other was a woman who seemed to have the history of the Vella Crean in her memories.
It was not such an odd friendship when one considered their similarities.
—
“Emra.”
“Bear man.” The Archivist greeted, a smile on her lips as she nodded her head. “Is it true then? Another timeline?”
Atlas grinned. A bright smile as he walked over to hug the smaller woman. “Benden Weyr. But different. Some type of magic, a little bit of the Nexus ‘other’, more so than the other timelines we have confirmed.”
“A classic name for a Weyr though, no?” she asked.
The Cartographer shook his head. “We definitely picked up on magic. Something unknown that makes this timeline unique.” his grin widened. “A vow of sorts, and an unusual way of keeping the unusual … unnoticed. You would find it interesting, Emra. Maybe something we could introduce here.”
The Archivist let out a snort of laughter. “The unusual is the usual at the Vella Crean, bear man. Especially with the new clutch your Scientist has on our sands.”
The Cartographer did not miss the highly possessive our. “They have different inhabitants that seem to arrive at the Weyr. A waypoint that brings in stragglers. Shy wants to send some of our people to the Weyr, ambassadors, of sorts. To better identify if there are people, riders who might belong to us, who have been missing.”
“The Council will not be happy at the thought of the Scientist sending off more Ambassadors. Seeding his people out there.”
The Council had not been happy with the Scientist for some time now. Some said he had lost the favor of the Empress; that his plans on ending the war threatened too much devastation. Others said it was just the season. The Empress and her Scientist fought all the time. This was the norm.
Emra privately did not care very much, because they did not trespass into her domain.
“They would like me to go.”
That was not an answer she had been expecting.
The Archivist looked up. “You? To Benden?”
Atlas nodded. “Hereth can blend in. I’ve met people who seem to see him as a ‘brown’ dragon. I have the most knowledge of Pern. Aki” the man shrugged. “The girl is too enamoured in the timeline she has ended up on, to want to move just yet.”
The bear man would move to Benden.
The thought puzzled her. Not because it was hard to grasp, but because she felt annoyance.
The bear man would move to Benden (and leave her).
“The council agreed?” she asked instead. Because she was polite.
“With a caveat. You know how they have been. Always sending one of their own emissaries.”
An emissary to follow (her) bear man to a different world. Who knew how long he would be stationed? A month, a year? Maybe he, like Aki he spoke of would be too enamoured to return.
“Oh?” Oh.
“A Light Court ambassador has left for the Refugium, a Dark Court general to Falas. It would only make sense to send a Blood Court emissary with me.” how smooth and mellow his tones were, how practical.
“And who is this Blood Court emissary who will be going with you?” her tone was tight.
“I was hoping it would be you.”
Emra almost missed the words, busy rifling through her memory of the young and overly ambitious members of her court. How many would delight at representing the Vella Crean. How many would jump at the chance! How many would-
“Me?”
Emra craned her head to stare up, up, catching grey eyes that flashed just a hint of molten gold.
“Benden Weyr?”
“With me.” he answered.
“Pern?”
“With me.” he repeated, the molten gold spreading in his eyes.
“I could-“
“Go.” The Cartographer’s eyes seemed more molten gold with streaks of grey. “With me.”
The Archivist paused, and nodded. A small, sharp movement.
—
Emra was not sure what she had expected at Benden Weyr. A silver dragoness with no bond and a unique form of her own magic? Definitely not. But the Weyr was traditional enough that Atlas seemed to move with ease, and herself, well. There were tomes of records, events and oddities to track across a parallel Pern that delighted her.
Who knew what secrets she could uncover?
It did not surprise her when the glint eyed raven haired Scientist made his appearance. He was possessive of his Projects, after all, ambitious to prove himself and introduce him to people who did not know of his infamous reputation (yet).
He pandered and simpered, cajoled and bribed. It made the Archivist smug to know that while some of the more traditional leaders might bend sway to his words, Mara did not.
When a pale queen and her “night” blue clutched on the sands, Emra was delighted. Ryslen genetics! So similar to the beginnings of the Light Court back at home. Her fingers itched to capture the hatching, to see what unusual colors or varieties would hatch, especially in this new timeline.
When she was asked to stand, Emra did not find it unusual.
Candidates often stood, and did not impress.
When the dragons began to hum and she joined the other candidates on the sands… well.
That was a different story.
—
Scribed from the Hatching Records
As the amber debated which eggs to try to recruit next, several rocked at once, with a large one slamming into a smaller one – spilling three dragonets from two eggs onto the sands all at once. The smallest, a deep blue, scrambled out of the way of his two pale gold sisters before beelining for the candidates and hiding behind the legs of his G’ran. Lorianth wasn’t sure if he’d offended them, but he was extra sure his rider would protect him!
Seeing the golds picking themselves up, the amber bristled. Those would certainly draw attention from her, and she couldn’t have that!
Snaking towards the still-wet pair, the amber seemed like she would snap at the tail of the more serious looking gold — up until a white robed figure abruptly got in the way! Or, more accurately, a white robed back. The candidate took the amber’s claws valiantly, emitting only a muffled gasp as the duller of the two golds raced around to defend her bonded. I am Saiyoth, and you will LEAVE US BE! She demanded, bolstered by the arrival of her sister, Kaiyoth.
Hissing at being thwarted, the amber backed up enough to allow Haad alGer to stand, blood streaking his white robes, as Saiyoth bristled and hissed in return at the amber. Kaiyoth took it a step further, darting towards the amber to run her off, causing her to careen into another egg.
More hissing joined that of the females, as a bright hint of buttery-silver glinted in the light of the cracking shell. When the amber tripped over the half-hatched egg again, the platinum male all but burst from the confines – slashing at the amber with a snarl.
Akyth, for all her patience, apparently had enough of the squabbling, and warbled a warning to her hatchlings – particularly the amber. Kaiyoth snorted in response, then trotted off to find her bonded from among the candidates. The platinum seemed intensely annoyed that he’d been rattled, rolled and now disciplined – because of his sister. Hissing at the amber one last time, the platinum marched towards the back of the candidate pack, sitting at the feet of an equally surly fellow who felt Just Right to Kaluth. Hello Gray.
The gall of that one to get in our way. The voice that filled her mind was imperious, bold, so different from the more gentle and polite tones of dragons who had spoken to her. Emra’s eyes widened as the pale gold stopped in front of her, one paw raised and placed against her leg. Had Nayareth hurt Saiyoth’s rider I would have the pale gold snapped her teeth towards the amber, her eyes whirling with irritation. Don’t you agree, Emra?
The oddest, most wonderful feeling flushed through the Archivist when the pale gold turned swirling rainbow eyes towards her. A punch of emotion that had Emra feel drunk and giddy as she leaned down with a laugh.
“Yes, yes Kaiyoth. I agree.”
Female ⭒ 67′ 3″ L ⭒ 11’4″ H