Here There Be Doll Fins


Donal.jpg Gaelene.jpg L'ron.jpg

Date: June 26th, 2011
Location: Landing: Cove
Synopsis: After the storm, a discovery is made.
Rating: G
Logger: Donal/Gaelene

The soil gets softer and sandier as one wanders closer to the cove to the north of Landing proper, eventually simply turning into low dunes of patches of long grass that is often whipped about by the wind coming off the water. A cart path leads away from the road through the low dunes and to the beach proper where the water laps in an easy, gentle rhythm on most days when there are no storms. The beach of the cove winds in a wide curve, allowing both swimmers and those seeking to fish from one of the piers able to enjoy both at the same time without crowding one another. The main pier stretches from one of the taller and more substantial dunes all the way out into the deeper waters of the cove while a few shorter piers branch off on either side to allow for small boats to moor.

Oh the winds blew high, and the winds blew low, and the winds blew all over Landing in a fury that even the old aunties and uncles cackling by a fire couldn't dredge up from their dimly-remembered memories. The beach area is a right mess as the last of the winds thrash the waves of the cove a bit, but it's apparently safe to be out and about… and to work on clean-up chores. Landing itself, with its Ancient buildings, had withstood the lashing of the epic storm in fine fashion, but the beach area… not so much. One of the ships that had anchored in the harbor was on-shore, on its side, its rigging limp and skewed by gravity in a fashion that was never meant to be. Seaweed and shellfish are strewn all over the beach, as are a few unsecured items that found their way here due to the storm. There's someone's knickers out on the sands, for example. One of the children's minders has them out on the beach with cloth bags, looking to salvage what could be salvaged. Several adults are also around, working on righting the fallen ship, if it can be.

Gaelene is one of those on the children's chain gang, assigned the task of picking up the driftwood and such so the smaller children can pick up the random useful stuff under it.

A dragon-shaped shadow casts across the littered sand, just moments before an Eastern blue lands enough of a distance away so as not to squish any small humans. "Wooooah, looks like we missed all the fun," his rider states almost too cheerfully as he unclips and slides down his bonded's side. "Whaddya think, Bal? Wanna help clean up?"

One of the adults helping out on the beach is the Masterstarsmith. Donal's with the ship's crew, doing some math for them that's a little bit out of his area of expertise, but math is math, and the physics of gravity and figuring out the best place to sort out where to put ropes and such, that's within what he knows. Once he delivers his official verdict, he leaves the actual hauling to those big burly men seconded from nearby Landing and meanders along the beach towards where the dragon has alighted and a few of the kids are working on their cleanup detail. This part of the beach seems a little secluded from the rest. "Clear skies," the starsmith says with the same distant courtesy one might expect from someone who isn't all that fond of dragons and their riders. "Starsmith's duties to Eastern and her queens," he adds, the formal phrase spoken carelessly and emotionlessly upon sight of the knots and other rank insignia the rider holds. Meanwhile, he seems to be watching the children's progress, the closest one to him being Gaelene. Some adults might have a slight smile on their face at the dutifulness of a child, or because they're a parent. The starsmith has neither expression on his face, just the same sort of look someone who's supervising a worker might have, but with emotional detachment. "Was the storm bad at the Weyr?" he then asks the rider out of the blue.

Gaelene looks up when the dragon shadow appears, and when he lands, she greets the bluerider politely, also giving Landing's duty to Eastern, then returning to her collecting. She's making a small pile of driftwood off to a side, presumably for those who like carving the stuff, and tossing seaweed and such back into the water. She also pauses when she hears Donal's voice and again politely greets, saying dutifully, "Hello, Master Donal."

The ship leaned over on its side is what first captures L'ron's attention and he looks set to put his and Balkrith's energy to use there. However, when it looks like the ship's crew have it all in hand his focus lands on the Mastersmith as he approaches. "Eastern's duties to Landing and the Starsmiths, " he returns a grin and a wink going Gaelene's way in response to the child's greeting. With the ritual of greetings exchanged, the bluerider strips off his flight jacket and slings it over a nearby log that had washed up. Balkrith, still with his straps on, extends his neck and sends a whuff of hot air in greeting that hopefully doesn't end up down the back of Donal's neck. "The Weyr? It got pretty bad but…" L'ron starts to reply and then his gaze lands on the pair of knickers lying nearby and he can't help the snicker that spills, "not nearly that bad."

Donal squints over the cove's waters for a few moments but then looks back at the other two. "Hello, Gaelene. Find anything interesting yet?" Unlike more of the adults, he doesn't really care about useful… at least, not useful as many people might consider. He's more curious about interesting things, the unusual, the unexpected. And when he gets whuffed by Balkrith, a closed look surfaces on his visage. "Hello," he greets the dragon quietly. Not rudely, but certainly not as welcomed as the two people are. He nods to the rider's answer to his question. "And Randi is well?" he then asks casually, since everyone knows he was at the Weyr shortly after the two eggs were shamefully destroyed and was friends with Kaseth's rider.

Gaelene says regretfully, "Nothing much interesting aside from the knickers," she can't help but giggle, being a twelve-turn and all. One of the younger children runs up to the Master Starcrafter, greets politely, and holds out a piece of hide. "The adults told me it wasn't worth saving," he confides, obviously thinking otherwise. Gaelene grins, and asks the little boy, "Think it might be a Renegade's treasure map?"

Balkrith is not a dragon to be too concerned about whether people are comfortable in his presence or not and soon turns his attention to the little human. Galene he finds interesting and even tries imitating her giggle which ends up sounding much like he's choking on something. L'ron turns an amused look over to the pre-teen, but his reply goes to Donal and is carefully phrased, "As well as can be expected." Not because he knows of the goldrider' s escapades through time but rather because he's not about to let anyone think that his Weyr is lacking in any way. Treasure map? That immediately draws the bluerider's attention and he's soon trying to peer over the Masterstarsmith's shoulder to get a look at it.

Donal gives a brief alarmed look at the dragon, but as L'ron doesn't seem to be acting like anything is wrong, he settles back and examines the scrap of hide with due consideration, taking the matter very seriously, which is what most children like to have done around them. "It's possible," he affirms after a moment of looking the hide over and then handing it back. "If not, it's still good for practicing your writing upon. Just because we have paper a-plenty, that doesn't mean we should necessarily forget older methods of practice and penmanship." He shows the hide to the dragonrider, very mindful of how the little boy might react to a careless gesture or an inappropriate dismissal of his imagination. However, the cautious answer from L'ron is enough to cause his brows to furrow. "Perhaps we should speak privately," he suggests, his tone a little bit harder. To the children, he says, "You should get along with your work. There's plenty of time to go hunting for treasure later on."

And along the shore, where the sand meets the sea, there is a glint of metal from a deep pool formed by the action of the waves and the winds during the storm.

The glint catches Gaelene's eye along with that of every child on the beach, and en masse they head for it, the little boy who found the map chattering about treasure. When they get there they can see that what they want to identify is, in fact, buried, and they industriously begin digging around it, totally forgetting the order to look for useful things.

Catching Donal's look of alarm, L'ron flushes a little, and then explains, "He's uhtrying to laugh like Gaelene here." A smile forms for the way in which the Masterstarsmith handles the little boy and following suit he too gives it closer inspection, "Definitely could be a treasure map." He looks about to add more but the something appears to have caught the children's attention and the little guy goes barrelling off with them. "Uh, okay?" the bluerider gives in slightly hesitant response to speaking with Donal privately.

Balkrith may as well be a big kid for with an excited trumpet of sound he's waddling off hot on the heels of the children.

Donal keeps a weather eye on the children as they swarm over the half-swamped thing that's still underwater for the most part, but enough to allow just the right angle to have attracted the children's attention. And the dragon's. A brief shake of his head is given at the blue's antics, but then, his own long-lost bronze was too dignified to act like that. As the children's efforts seem to be uncovering themselves something rather big and metallic, a rounded thick shape that's hollow inside, he continues the private conversation with the bluerider. "'As well as can be expected' implies that something isn't the way it ought to be, Rider," he says, keeping his voice down because of how sound travels over water and to truly keep the conversation betwixt himself and L'ron. "I'm a friend of the Weyr, so it's not like you're telling some traditional muffinhead secrets or anything out of line." There's a fine line of worry to his query, more than anger or any hostile emotion.

Even with the childrens' minder trying to get them back on track, the erstwhile cleanup crew has become a digging crew, and already the guesses are being discussed. Among them, the favorite is a broken ball meant for dragons to play with.

L'ron's usually smooth brow furrows into a frown and he turns a wary look onto Donal as if the man were trying to trap him into saying something he shouldn't. "No, it means that given the situations and circumstances of being such a new Weyr and the absence of our senior Weyrwoman along with the resignation of our Weyrleader, Randi's doing a damn fine job of keeping it all together!" Loyal to the last despite some of the strange goings on of the past few sevens and the rumours the gossip mill has been churning out.

The more the children excavate, the more excited Balkrith starts to get until he's almost hopping up and down while emitting little bugles and trills of glee. « L'ron look!! It's a…it's a…giant TURNIP!! » awe and wonder accompanied by a sound akin to that of a heavenly choir being emitted across the airwaves between dragon and rider for this is a truly celestial moment for the blue. Quite Scrat-like in fact. So much so that the bluerider is left gawping at his blue and going several shades of red as more than a few of the adults turn snickers and strange looks his way.

"I'd hardly expect anything less of her," Donal accedes with a nod. "Now what on Pern has gotten into your dragon?" he asks as he has to break off the adults' conversation due to the antics of that very strange blue. He moves over to the kids and says, "Move your fat arse," to the dragon in a curt tone of someone who can't see because something's in the way, ducking around the blue's bulk to get a gander at what they've found. "Now why would this have been in the cove?" he asks, looking over the newly-revealed shape, now obviously identified by all as a bell missing its clapper. Or a dragon-sized drinking bowl, but the metallic shape can be nothing else. Crouching next to Gaelene, he peers at the rim of the thing, pulling out a pair of spectacles and perching them on his nose and peering again, using his thumb to wipe off some excess dirt and revealing, "Cast by the Whitechapel Bell Foundry, Earth." He looks at the bluerider and Gaelene in genuine amazement. "This came with the original settlers to Pern!"

Gaelene's jaw drops and she says in an awed voice, "Whoa! I wonder what it was used for?" She taps on it with her fingers, which renders a soft musical tone of a bell well-made, even without its clapper.

Scratching at his head, L'ron tries to explain Balkrith's odd behaviour, "He uh…, he thinks they've found a…" cue the quick clearing of throat and drop of voice that goes with being highly embarrassed, "giant turnip," he ends up muttering as he strides off after Donal. Balkrith is less worried about the fat arse comment, and more worried about the treatment of what he is now convinced, is a great big shiny turnip. And so while he does shift out of the Masterstarsmith's way, the blue's attention remains firmly fixed on the bell, his head twisting to one side as he utters a little chirrup of keen interest when Gaelene taps at it. « It sings! » he declares in a clash of pots and pans. "No way!" L'ron breathes, "Earth? This thing must be ancient! Why do you think it was left here?"

"Well, obviously for making noise of some kind," Donal replies, sounding a little bit impatient with the child's slowness of thought. Which makes his very irritated look at the adult dragonrider even seemingly more crotchety. "Do they actually teach you to think over there at Eastern? Who on Pern would leave a giant… did you say turnip?!?… What?" This time, his amazed expression is solely for the blue, and it's not a good kind of amazement. There's a brief moment where he glances at Gaelene and shakes his head, sharing a quick moment of commiseration that they're in the presence of insanity. "It's a bell, you dingdong! It's probably what they used to send messages before someone came up with the idea of drums. Or lost contact with firelizards." A chittering carols in as a blue firelizard, as if called by name, flits over the unusual trio and plops himself down on Donal's padded shoulder. "So. It. Makes. Noise. And don't smack it," he warns one of the children with a long finger pointed at the boy. "It's not a toy."

Gaelene says, "What kind of messages, though? Why didn't they just use drums like the Harpers do?" She's perhaps over-excited, because she looks around, picks up a rock, and uses it to tap the bell more soundly. It is apparently louder than she expected, because she winces and covers her ears, guessing, "Maybe to warn of threadfall… across the continent."

L'ron is generally an easygoing sort, that is until someone insults either himself, his dragon or his Weyr directly such as he perceives Donal to have done. And so it is that the young bluerider's expression closes and with lips pursed he takes a step backward, "I think," the very edge of anger slipping in, "that we are taught to respect our elders and those with rank amongst the crafts and so we'll bid you farewell rather than ask any further stupid questions and besmirch the good name of our Weyr."

Balkrith could care less what anyone has to say to or about him, his rider is a different matter and so with a low rumbling in his chest and much as he's loathe to leave the Great Turnip's presence, he too backs away as his bonded does. "I'll be sure to send someone else down here to help you move it. Good day to you, Sir," L'ron utters and with a stiff salute, retrieves his jacket and in no time at all is mounted up and gone with just the cold depression of air to signal the blue pair's jump Between.

The sound goes on and on, causing a number of people on the beach to look toward the source of the noise. "Come on, you lot, get back to work!" one of the children minders says, shooing most of Gaelene's friends back to the cleanup, but pausing at the shaken head from the Starsmith. L'ron's departure is given little notice by Donal, he's far too absorbed in the bell and its possible uses. "That's a very good notion, actually," he affords the girl an approving reply. "Much better than a giant turnip," he adds. "What do they teach riders these days, I wonder? Never mind. So, it's a bell." His firelizard hops down to examine the metal object from all angles, chirruping with deep curiosity.

And the sounds of the firelizard seem to be echoing very loudly over the bay, for little squees and such can be heard, perhaps magnified by the bell's mouth pointing out over the water. Indeed, little Tarrie makes a few more noises to see how they echo… but they don't seem to be the source of the volume.

Gaelene giggles as she watches the little blue explore. "He's having as much fun as we are!" she exclaims. Then she cocks her head at the echoes. "I think they're getting louder rather than quieter." She screws up her face in concentration, and then guesses, "Maybe the bell is magnifying the sound?" Too bad she hasn't learned the word "amplifying" yet.

Donal frowns and squints over the bay. "No, I don't think so…" he says, standing up straight and bringing Tarrie with him, gently quieting the firelizard. "Listen." The squees and clicking aren't the firelizard. It's not the sound of the surf. It's something else.

"BELLILLL!" a voice cries out from the waves. "SQUEE! BELLILL!" And suddenly a shipfish leaps from the water, landing with an almighty splash. "We come! Bellill! Bloofish scraaabbings?" A couple more shipfish get into the play as the pod comes splashing in toward the deep pool, crowding around and chittering in an cacophany of sound that staggers the senses and threatens to deafen all. "Repooooorrrrriit?"

Gaelene, an avid shipfish watcher, gasps as she realizes there are some approaching. It's a day for jaw-dropping for her, because once again she does. "They're talking!" she says excitedly, not caring if she's stating the obvious. "Who knew shipfish could talk?"

The other children who had been herded back to work are once again distracted, running over and laughing at the odd sounds. No effort from the minders is able to distract them now, and some of the bolder ones make as if to go into the water.

"I didn't," Donal admits with a shrug, still trying to keep his firelizard from getting into trouble. "The seacrafters I've known would tell stories, sure, but they were more alcohol-induced than anything else… or so I thought…"

The shipfish are quite happy to see the young ones approaching the water, squeeing and clicking happily, although their spoken words tend to be drowned out by the general noise. The one closest to Gaelene pokes his nose out of the water. "Repooorrrrit?" he asks hopefully.

"Reporit?" repeats Gaelene. She looks confused for a few seconds, and then it clicks. "Report? What kind of things would you like a report on, shipfish? Other than the fact that we may all have firehead," she adds as an aside, though her voice is more filled with wonder than anything.

The children who had started to wade in are encouraged by the playful animals and soon are giggling and splashing around.

The starsmith seems rather baffled, although avidly watching the big old mess of kids and shipfish.

"Everrrrrrythiiiiiiin!" the shipfish nearest Gaelene sings out. "Looooongtime no spaaaaaeeeeeek!" The other kids aren't having as much luck being heard or actually making sense of what they're hearing, but the shipfish don't seem to mind, happy as they are. "Where did you go?" That question is quite clear, sounding rote, as if they were all taught to ask that question, and the linguistics of the words are a bit out of skew, the accent all wrong, the syllables mangled, but the grey nose poking up out of the water, the sleek form doing its best to get close to the girl, seems rather sincere.

Luckily Gaelene has paid attention to her Harper lessons, in that she knows the south was unsettled for a very long time. "We went north when thread started falling," she answers. "But recently… well, longer than I've been alive, but not so long in terms of history, we came back. AIVAS never told us about shipfish, though. I wonder if it knew?"

Indeed, if anything the other children are making more squealing noises than the dolphins at this point. The minders are watching bemusedly, by their expressions wondering if Gael's firehead theory is correct and they're all hallucinating, but still keeing a careful eye on the growing group in the water as even the most timid of the youngsters begin inching in.

Donal listens sharply to anything being said, but he clearly has no connection to the shipfish, unlike the children. Too old and set in his ways, so he drifts back with the other minders with a shrug. "Don't look at me, I dunno," he says to one of them as they begin to ask him a question.

"Ship? Fish?" the one male asks Gaelene, craning himself out of the water to cast an eye on the beached ship over yonder. "Thrrrrrread! Good eatings!" the others squeal out when she mentions it. While some of the minders might be a bit concerned that the kids will get swamped by the splashing critters, the more observant will note how the shipfish are actually very careful and keep the young humans afloat and their heads above water. Aside from the occasional splashing. "Doll-fins!" the first one calls out over the general ruckus. And then the mangled word gets passed around cheerfully.

"Doll-fins," Gaelene dutifully repeats. "I'll have to ask the Computerers if they have ever heard of doll-fins." Then, in a flash of inspiration, she says, "I'm Gael. What's your name? Or do doll-fins have names?"

There's an expression on Donal's face, a mixture of sorrow and regret, as the question of names comes up. He closes his eyes and looks away when the shipfish… er, doll-fin… answers.

"Dare! Name Dare!" It almost sounds like a kid's name, but then other words crowd out the noise, the word 'name' followed by what is apparently each doll-fin's name. Some can't be made out, others make no sense, but they're all one or two syllables, quick and easy to say, like a dragonrider's. "Name Dare, Gael!" And young Dare flashes back out to the deeper waters to do a backflip, then back to Gael, prodding her with his nose. "Fish?" he then asks, and of course the others take up the chorus, acting like they hadn't been fed all turn long.

Gaelene giggles, and several of the children follow suit and even laugh at the dolphin's trick, and some of them try out the other dolphins' names. Gael concentrates on Dare, though, asking a bit dumbly, "Fish?"

One of the men working on the ship over yonder has meandered over to see what the fuss is, appearing quite nonplused by the children and the shipfish. "They eat fish, kiddo," he says, turning and whistling sharply to get one of his apprentices' attention. "Bucket!" he bellows, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard, and then jerking a thumb at the shipfish. The lad waves and soon trots over with a bucket of small fish, goggling a bit at the antics of the others younger than he and the shipfish. "We keep one'a these on board, shipfish are good luck, y'know, so we toss 'em a fish or two in thanks if the fishing's gone well or we got out of a storm okay. There's all kinds'a stories of sailors gettin' saved by a shipfish and brought back to shore, but until now, I'd'a thought someone'd got firehead. Here, just bring the bucket back when you're done with it, but I've gotta get this old girl back in the water." He ambles on off, pointedly steering his apprentice to come with him, although the lad gives the other youths an envious look over his shoulder.

Gaelene calls out a "Thank you" after the seacrafter, then grimaces at the sight of the raw fish. She gingerly picks one up tosses it toward Dare, watching to see how the dolphin reacts to being pelted with fish. Several of the bolder children also take fish from the bucket and toss it toward the new friends expectantly.

And the crowd goes wild! Chittering happily, the pod, including Dare, gets the various fish that are tossed to them. No one fights over the meal, because they're normally well-fed anyway and this is a treat, and no one seems upset that they didn't get one of the very few fish. "Bloofish skraaaab?" Dare asks hopefully as a couple of the dolphins move closer to the children, presenting their sides and bellies for view, where the parasites have latched on.

Gaelene stoops and picks up some sand from the sea and scrubs off the hand which held the raw fish. She recoils when she sees the bloodfish, asking automatically, "Does that hurt? Are those things bloofish? And what is scraaab?"

"I think it means 'scrape'," Donal interjects from the sidelines. "Like scraping off a leech or a tick on a canine." He offers his belt-knife, suitable for the removal of the parasite, but not really a weapon or suitable for getting oneself hurt.

"Skraaab! Skraaab!" the chorus of dolphins sing out, chttering, although Dare himself remains a little off to the side, since he doesn't have one of the bloodfish attached to him.

Gaelene takes the belt knife dubiously, remembering to say "Thank you," and wades over to where one of the infested dolphins is. Although she is not formally Healer apprenticed, she's picked up a lot from being the daughter of two Healers. More importantly, she knows that with things like leeches you can't just cut off part of it. Using the dull edge of the blade she gingerly tries to scrape off tthe bloodsucking fish, unsuccessfully, though she does succeed in magling the bloodfish while she's at it.

"Get sucker!" Dare enjoins his new friend, his voice still enthusiastic, but not entirely happy and cheerful as the others. He's watching this carefully, wanting it to go right.

Gaelene finds the sucker and tried to scrape it off, still using the blunt side of the knife. She finally realizes the futility, though, and tries digging it out with her fingernails. Only when that doesnt work does she wince pre-emptively and start digging with the knife, as tense as if it was her skin being cut into.

The dolphin being worked on doesn't wince or cry out with pain, but the sucker does pop out when Gaelene manages to get it in the right spot with the knife. "Thaaaaaaank yoooooo!" the dolphin question enthuses, and the other one needing help promptly takes her place under Gaelene's hands, turning to present the offending parasite for view.

Gaelene lets out a sigh of relief as the sucker comes out without seeming to hurt the dolphin. Her expression becomes comically horrified when the next dolphin presents herself but, after taking a deep breath, Gael this time starts near the sucker's base rather than trying to pull the thing off. The other children all ring around the afflicted dolphin, trying to see what their cohort is doing.

The second dolphin is more easily tended to, and many happy chitterings and squees are given, the children also being thoroughly soaked by this time. Many of them are solicited for scritches on their chins and the dolphins are quite shameless about this. Some of the others start coursing further away in the water, and calls of "Fish come!" can be heard. The seamen working on the ship over yonder start cursing and working more quickly, because the tide is going out, and they still have a beached craft to sort out.

Gaelene whews as the second one comes off more easily. Scooping up another handful of sand, she scrubs off the blade and wades out to offer it to Donal, hilt-side toward him. "I think the doll-fins say "Thank you too," she remarks. Some of the children try to follow the dolphins, and their minders have to call them in. Gael watches as the pod departs, and it's obvious where she's going to spending all of her free time from now on.

"Curious," the starsmith remarks as he dries the blade on the sleeve of his coat before sheathing it absently. "And quite astonishing. I had no idea they could talk like we could." As he watches the retreating pod, following them with his brown eyes, he says, "They came when the bell was struck loudly, so logic suggests that's why the bell was brought to Pern." He once more crouches by the ancient metal 'turnip' and touches it gently, making sure neither he nor his firelizard makes enough noise with it to cause the pod to return. "This should be kept muffled, don't you think?" he asks of Gaelene, the other children dismissed from his thoughts for the moment. "And you should see if someone in the Computerer's craft knows anything about this, or the harpers. There has to be some scrap of knowledge from that wretched thing that will shed some light on this."

Gaelene nods,saying, "Muffled, or close off this area of the beach. The former is probably easier, though. And I know just the Computerer to ask, too — Xantin. He often watches when I use the terminals, and now that we know they call themselves doll-fins maybe we can find some references to them. Come to that, I don't know that anyone has ever asked it about shipfish, either." She glances over at the bell and asks, "Should I go ask the Seacrafters or some burlap when I return their bucket, or would that be too rough?"

"It wouldn't know the name shipfish, I don't think," Donal replies with a shrug. He knows more things than most people, but this is where he's completely out of his depths. "Not if doll-fin was their name originally. I'm sure you and this Xantin character will figure it out," he adds, nodding to the final question. "Burlap might be too rough, I dunno. If not, the weavers probably have something suitable. Now off you go."

Gaelene picks up the bucket and scurries off to the shipwreck to return the bucket with appropriate thanks, and then heads for the crafter area, presumably to hit up the Weavers for the appropriate cloth. The minders don't seem to mind that she was sent off, but they do start getting the children re-oriented on their earlier task.

Donal gives one last look out to the sea where the pod of shipfish, doll-fins, whatever, can be seen going about their business. With a shake of his head, the starsmith goes back to what had originally brought him to the beach after the storm. He finds the broken farviewer half-buried in sand and says a word not heard in a long time under his breath. Taking the precious item with him, he stalks back to Landing with an intent expression on his face.

Log posted on Donal's behalf by Gaelene.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License