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Not-so-sekrit message to sithjawa:

There are imps. On our desk. As well as Herr Drosselmeyer and Rose Red. They are all demanding attention, and we have to leave for work!

We woke up as a rather stiff, but very warm, tangle of limbs. There was sort of a collision as we raced for the phone, and we've been sorting out who's who ever since. We can't all go to work at once, and someone's got to keep an eye on Naomi. Glad we thought to make enough spare keys for all of us.

Ack. The time!
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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