==== September 15th, 2013
==== Safra, Saevasanth
==== Safra and Saevasanth stretch in the training grounds.

Who Safra, Saevasanth
What Safra and Saevasanth stretch in the training grounds.
When Morning
Where Training Grounds



Training Grounds
A broad and sheltered swoop of bowl lies bare for the talons and tread of countless weyrlings that-will-be, encased by stone scoured and scarred by those-that-were. Dirt lies as neatly as dirt can lie, swept and raked daily, at the mouth of the caverns that must indubitably be the weyrling barracks. Devoid of decoration, the place stands strangely absent of pressence when empty, the everpresent wind of Southern giving strange acoustics to those under the shelter of the towering bowl-wall.

Out on the training grounds the hot sun is hidden behind an overcast gray. Though the weyrlings are tired - it is pleasant enough to be outside in the open air. A few weyrlings are working, stretching, checking straps - reading for the next few weeks. Soon they will fly! The young dragons are fanning their wings, lifting their weight off the ground in controlled burts, but not using legs to assist. Others are practicing launching.

The morning's exercises are done - the runs are getting farther and farther. The riders making a circuit of the bowl and then setting straps and mounting up before riding out into the upper bowl and back. Finally time for breakfast, Bless Renalde and Nora. Afterwards, some collapsed for a nap. Others went out into the training grounds while it was only sparsely occupied.

Safra and Saevasanth are standing, stretching. Sort of. They are standing in mirrored poses, still as statutes. Holding each strange pose and breathing steadily until, at a mental cue, they shift.

Horizon, Safra, one leg on the ground, one stretched behind, arches her back and stretches her arms upward and looking up at the sky between her hands. Saevasanth does the same, lofting instead a foreleg and it's opposite hindleg while stretching his neck up and head up, his wings stretch foward and up, holding a position that is like the forward-most stroke of a backwing. The hold the position for a dozen breaths. Safra's forehead beads with sweat and her limbs tremble. Similarly, the sails of Saevasanth's wings show tremors as he strains to keep the position.

Tunnel Snake, dropping to her stomach, Safra lies in a line, stretching her legs behind and pushes up, leaving her hips on the ground, back arching, head back. Saevasanth, pulls in his wings with a gusty sigh and mimics the girl, wings folded against his flanks, breathing heavily.

Images and thoughts flash through Safra's mind unbidden. Blowing up at Nika. Working in the dragon infirmary. Focus. Let the thoughts go. Breathe in, breathe out.

Chair, Safra hops up into a squat, balancing on her flat feet and stretching forward arms extended, her light hair is darkened with sweat and her breathing more labored. Saevasanth crouches on his hindlegs, extending his tail straigh back behind him to offset the bulk of his forequarters and wings stretched forward and up, his head flanks begin trembling immediately, eyes whorling with many colors.

More thoughts intrude. Male riders with chips on their shoulders about women riding fighting dragons. Renalde's kindness.

« Safra, please focus. This is… difficult. » the dragonet grunts.

The heat of the smithy. The frightening rumors of mind sickness that no one is talking about. Which is scarier. A clutch on the sands. Would they be infected? Was Saevasanth infected?! Breathe in, breathe out. Hold. Let the thoughts go. Breathe in, breathe out. Hold.

« Safra…»

Let the thoughts go.

Skybroom, Safra straightens, one foot on the ground, one foot cupping her knee, leg angled out to the side. Hands meeting to make a steepled arch over her head. She focuses on her breathing. Calming her breathing. The dragonet mimics her pose, legs sticking out at strange angles, balance wobbling, wing spars meeting in a dramatic fan.

Safra's breathing slows, deepens. Saevasanth's matches her. Watery muscles tremble but are loose and free. Stronger today than yesterday. Flexible. It didn't matter… the other things didn't matter. In this moment, the bond, the repose, the oneness.


They hold the pose for a long, beautiful moment.

« Uh oh!» That spike of alarm is all that Safra gets before Saevasanth tips over and spills into a pile of limbs and spars and sails. Safra murmurs to Saevasanth and she helps him untangle himself.

He peers at her, embarrasment whirling in his eyes a bright yellow, «I hope I'm better at flying.»

A flare of excitement flutters in Safra's belly and holds the beautiful blue's head in her hands, flooding their bond with faith, looking deep into his eyes, I can't wait to find out!

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