==== November 14th, 2013
==== Nevelyn, Nevach NPC, Jithan, T'ral, Esanth
==== Esanth gets an oil bath from an industrious helper. New friends and old meet on the beach.

Who Nevelyn, Nevach NPC, Jithan, T'ral, Esanth
What Esanth gets an oil bath from an industrious helper. New friends and old meet on the beach.
When Before Sunset
Where Southern Weyr

swim.jpg nevach.jpg jithan5.jpg t-ral.jpg


An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the thirty-ninth day of Autumn and 84 degrees. Partly cloudy, the storm seems to have almost pass, occasional short falls of rain painting the ground.

The sun is falling towards the horizon. Twilight comes later here at the beach than in the bowl. It's quiet and peaceful. Which is a big change from the weyrling barracks and the trainging grounds. The beach is a popular place for weyrling pairs and several others are spread out down the beach, and where there are weyrlings and weyrling dragons, there's weyrling staff. T'ral is singing quietly to himself, possibly to keep awake, as he gives an oil bath to the blue dragonet sprawled groggily on the damp sand near the water's edge. He striaghtens to examine an area of hide and dashes a forearm across his brow to clear the sweat. Nodding to himself, he moves to another quarter of the dragon and begins again. The dragon's tail is twitching slowly… left… right… left… right… a low hum rumbling from the deep chest.

This evening is all about the peace and relative quiet. Certainly less noisy and rife with squalling than the children's caverns within the Weyr. A woman and child seem to be strolling through the surfs edge. Growing ever closer to reveal Nevelyn and her young son Nevach. The little boy seems content to dash ahead of his mother. Chasing the ebbing waves toward the sea and then running back up the beach as they chase him ashore. Nevelyn herself has no such energy and simply slogs through the waves when they rush over her feet. After a time she notices Nevach getting close to T'ral, where the weyrling works on his lifemate. "Nevach leave that 'rider alone now hear?" She doesn't want him causing trouble for the man.

T'ral straightens, looking around at Nevelyn, eyes widening a bit at the skin her swimwear shows. His ears color and slew towards Nevach. He looks exhausted, but gives the boy a lopsided grin. He rolls his shoulders and flicks a glance at the young woman, "He's no bother." He turns back to work, "Esanth, say hello to… Nevach?" He looks at the boy, to the woman, back to the boy. Doling out a measure of oil he leans back to work, rubbing it into the shoulder-wing joint. Esanth's eyes open in a needlessly slow sliding of multiple membranes. Eventually the blast doors have opened and faceted eyes wheel towards Nevach, brow ridges canting towards the boy, while the dragon's head stays planted on the sands. He whuffs.

Much as a child his age is known for. Nevach has no clue how close he's even gotten to the blue dragon until his mother calls out to him. He halts in his tracks and blinks from T'ral, Esanth and then turns wide eyes on his mother. Nevelyn doesn't take long to sashay her way across the sand and come to a stop beside her son. "As long as he doesn't get in the way," she tells T'ral and pushes her hair back over her shoulder when the wind blows it forward. Nevach looks at Esanth and when the dragon whuffs at him, he breaks out in a huge grin. "Oh wow! He sure is neat mister!" At a nudge from Neve the boy blanches and pops off a prober salute, "I mean sir."

Wow. Totally disarmed. T'ral returns the salute and grins over at the boy from where he's working on Esanth's shoulder joint. The lopsided grin turns sweetly sly and he looks up at Nevelyn, "If you're… uh? I'm sorry, forgotten my manners," He grimaces down at his hands and straightens, bowing slightly to Nevelyn and the boy, "T'ral, blue Esanth's."

The image of Nevelyn's swimsuit could possibly be offset a bit by the small rucksack slung over her shoulder. Or perhaps it enhances the view? She wouldn't presume to know. The sly grin slanted her direction by T'ral is met with a flash of even white teeth. "Well met T'ral and blue Esanth." She places a hand on her son's shoulder. "I'm Nevelyn and this is my son Nevach." Nevach shrugs off his mother's hand in favor of imitating the 'rider and bowing himself. It seems the thing to do after all. "Well met," he murmurs even as his eyes merely flick to T'ral. He's a bit fascinated with dragons at his age.

Jithan wanders down to the beach, obviously enjoying this continent's idea of autumn. He's wearing sandals and a pair of swimming trunks, with a towel tossed over one shoulder and a skin of some kind of beverage hanging from the other. He, of course, spies the 'little' baby dragon first, and then the humans, only really recognizing Nevelyn because of Nevach's presence. The rider is completely unknown to him, although the wave he gives encompasses all four of them.

There are all sorts of new people today. New to T'ral anyway. He raises a hand in greeting to the man walking down the beach. Probably someone to salute, but… He settles for a nod. "Well met, Nevelyn and Nevach." He leans over to Nevelyn (eyes carefully averted, mostly), "Do you think he'd want to help?"

Nevelyn turns to have a look when T'ral waves to someone up the beach. Jithan is spied and his approach earns him a welcoming grin and wave. She doesn't get a chance to call a greeting as T'ral is claiming her attention by leaning toward her. "Keep a close eye on him. I'd be mortified if he damaged your blue somehow." She knows very little about the beasts and her son knows far less than that. Nevach as always huffs and crosses his arms. Sullen because the adults are speaking above him like he's not right here! He really is right darn here and stomps a small foot in the sand to prove it to himself if to no one else.

Jithan wanders closer to the group and grins at Nevelyn and Nevach. "Hello, Nevelyn, enjoying this warm autumn?" he asks, then dropping to a knee at the foot-stomping little man. "Hello, Nevach. Are you excited to meet…" his voice falters for a bit, and then he grins. "Are you excited to meet Esanth?" Eyes are cast up to the bluerider, and he chuckles. "Don't recognize me, do you, Apprentice Taralde?"

T'ral picks out a dry-looking patch and shows Nevach how to spread oil and what the hide looks like when it's done. He grins up at Nevelyn. There's no real way to screw it up. Use a lot of oil, spread it around. "If you see anything that looks like a wound, tell me, okay?" He's wrapping up the 'lesson' when a startlingly familiar voice comes from over his shoulder. He turns slowly, feet unmoving and looks at, "Journeyman Jithan!" Years of reflex spin him around to salute, "What are yo- Uh, how are you, Sir?"

Nevelyn looks at Jithan when he speaks to her and nods her head in response. "I'm rather relieved there is a break in the rain. I was afraid I was to be cooped up in the Weyr yet again." Well that or traipse around in the rain, which she has been known to do. She shifts her stance when Jithan kneels down to address Nevach. Moving herself out of the line of sight as much as possible. Nevach is distracted from the dragon by the sound of his name on a stranger's lips. "He sure is neat!" The child bounces in response to Jithan's question. "I member you!" He peers at Jithan for a moment before blurting out, "You made Mama blush in the lib-ary." Ahh the things children say that make their mother blush now! Nevelyn squeezes Nevach's shoulder to hush him up and looks away from Jithan in favor of the interesting conversation happening between the Journeyman and Weyrling. Nevach's attention is diverted by T'ral and he squirms away from his mother to oil a dragon for the very first time. His smile can't get any bigger! "I'll tell ya," he assures the 'rider and a nod as his little hands smooth over the fascinating blue hide.

Jithan draws himself back up to his feet, intentionally looking T'ral up and down. "You don't have to 'Sir' me now, though I appreciate the respect. I imagine that you'd rather T'ral instead of Taralde too, eh lad?" He's chuckles softly at the weyrling's reaction, though he's watching Nevach oil the blue beast. The kid's words just get a chuckle from the Journeyman, and he shoots eyes towards Nevelyn. "I made you blush, did I?" he asks, amusement in his voice. "Well, that's promising." Turning back to T'ral, he nods. "I'm doing well, thank you. And I'm here spying on you heretical Southerners for the Hall."

T'ral glances at the sky, nodding at Nevelyn's appraisal of the weather. Though the drills and work don't often seem to take weather into account. "Best dragon in the Weyr, Nevach." He means it, but adds, "Which is just what every 'rider will tell you." At all the talk of blushing, T'ral's ears color, he's a sympathetic blusher and there's lots of lovely skin about. How about that break in the rain? T'ral winces good-naturedly at Jithan's response and scratches at his chin. "I'm a weryling, Journeyman, everyone is 'Sir' to me." He leans beack into going over Esanth's slatey hide. "Spy on us, eh?"

Nevelyn no longer has her son to use as a barrier. And while she stands there a tad uncomfortably, she can hardly be upset. Watching the awe on her son's face is worth any blushing moment of embarrassment. Her eyes cut to Jithan when the Journeyman teases her. She admits to nothing and lifts a brown shoulder in response. Though it's telling the way her eyes dart quickly back to her son. Nevach is pure and simply fascinated. Uncaring of the oil smearing on his face he leans forward and lays his cheek against Esanth's side to listen to the dragon breathe. Nevelyn extends a hand as if to snatch her boy back even from this distance. Not wanting him to annoy Esanth or T'ral. "Someone's going to need a bath when we get back," she mutters as her hand flutters back to her side. "Thank you T'ral for giving him the chance to get close to Esanth. You'll have to excuse him. I've never let him get so near a dragon before." Nevach ignores the adults completely as he peels his face off the oily hide and smooths his fingers where his face had been. "Hey!" His voice is suddenly loud and concerned, "T'ral sir?" He leaves the dragon to tug on T'ral's pants leg. "He's got a bump on his leg," he announces with a chubby finger point.

Jithan rather likes the break in the rain, having been told stories of the sevenday-long deluge of last winter. "A weyrling you might be, T'ral, but you're not an apprentice any longer. You can call me Jithan, as long as you forgive me using your old name now and again." He chuckles, nodding. "Somehow, higher heads at the Hall have gotten the idea that there's all sorts of… interesting things going on down here. They sent me to report on them. I've written them that, regretfully, I've found no evidence of the expected atrocities." Wordy sumbitch, ain't he? Grinning at Nevelyn's worry about Nevach's cleanliness, he gestures out towards the sea. "Pern's biggest bath right here, and you're worried about scrubbing some hide oil off the lad? He's lucky, Nevelyn. I didn't even see a dragon this close until I was nearly 20. Who knows, maybe they'll like him and he'll Impress."

"Oh, Nevach, come 'ere, lemme get that," he scrubs a somewhat less oily forearm down the boy's cheek doing some good. At least it won't spread. Much. He shrugs, wincing, "Sorry, ma'am." He watches Nevach sidelong, "I fell asleep like that for about a solid month." He looks at Nevelyn and back to Nevach, "Well, so long as we're not working, you're welcome to say 'hi' anytime." He squints at where the boy is pointing, an angry looking spot in the crook of Esanth's foreleg. "Hey, good catch." To the dragon, "And when were you going to mention this?" The dragon whuffs, wings rustling. He grabs a smaller crock from his pack and dollops some - from the smell - numbweed on the wound, "Spread it out?" he offer a smooth paddle that comes away with the lid of the jar. "It won't hurt him." T'ral nods at the Harper, grinning, "Yes, Sir, Jithan." He grins, "You're forgiven in advance." He cocks his head, watching Nevach if he decides to adminster the numbweed, a glance at Jithan, "Have you met any of the Oldtime Harpers yet? That's what I, uh… came down here to do. Before," he gestures at the dragon.

Nevelyn has no idea why a Hall would be so fascinated by the goings on of a Weyr they don't even live at. She's grown up with similar happenings on the ship she'd grown up on and never understood much of that either. Still she listens attentively, her eyes bouncing back and forth between T'ral and Jithan. At least until Jithan pins his gaze on her once again. And his lips are moving.. what'd he say? She gathers her wits and chuckles. "I'm more afraid he'll annoy the blue or T'ral." It's a bone deep worry that Nevach will get underfoot here too and they'll be sent packing yet again. She blinks at Jithan in surprise when he mentions Nevach Impressing. "Oh," she shakes her head, "surely not. He wasnt born to the Weyr after all." Yeah she has no clue how Weyrs work, but she's gradually learning.

Nevach is uncaring of baths or the oil smeared across his cheek and bare chest. Hes more interested in being good at the job T'ral had put him to. Approval is everything to a seventurn old. Especially male approval which he sorely lacks. So he stoically accepts T'ral swiping the oil from his cheek. "Thanks," his voice is proud at the praise from the rider. Little chest puffing up. He dutifully steps forward to take the paddle when asked. "Just on the sore right?" Little hands grasp the paddle handle as he bends forward in concentration. Spreading the numbweed carefully over the sore spot. When he's finished he leans forward and blows on it like his Mama does to his own bumps.

Jithan hmmms softly, watching the care taken with the dragon. "Ahhhh, we had wondered. There was a bit of consternation at your departure, T'ral. But, I see that it's all been for the better." He bows his head a little in thanks for the forgiveness, then shakes his head. "I've not had that pleasure, though I hope to soon. They seem to be an… interesting bunch." Carefully chosen words, oh yes. "Well, one never knows. T'ral here was holdbred and Hall trained, weren't you, 'rider?" he asks, voice a little amused. "One thing I've noticed, Nevelyn, is that the 'riders never turn down an offer of help with their dragon's upkeep."

"Nevelyn, this is no trouble. It's a help." He nods at Nevach, "Right, just the wound," At the blowing, Esanth's skin shivers, a quick twitch of skin and muscle, like he's shaking off a fly. T'ral grins at Nevach, "He says 'Thank you,'" He leans back on his heels, chucking the kid lightly on the shoulder, "Wounds like that can be big trouble if you don't catch, them." His brow furrows, but he's not going to discuss Hall business in front of others. He has moved on to Esanth's tail at this point and addresses himself to Jithan, face composed once again, "No, Sir. Benden Weyr, then Harper Hall. And some other places while I apprenticed. But people from all over Impressed. Even mountainfolk." At Jithan's rejoinder he shrugs helplessly, "Can you blame us?"

Nevelyn herself hasn't laid hand on a dragon in her life. That honor remains her son's alone at the moment. She chuckles and shakes her head at Jithan. "Don't say that too loudly. I'll never in life track my son down again. He'll be off chasing after every 'rider in the Weyr asking to help." It's one thing she frets over but admires about her son. He's a helpful lil' snot. "I don't know that I've met old time Harpers as of yet. But I've met one or two others an' they seemed real nice." She waves a hand at her apparel, "Even gave me some clothes the one woman did." After all she'd never thought to own a swimsuit before arriving here. The crew just stripped and dove in on days when anchor was dropped for the purpose. She grins at T'ral and nods her acceptance of his assurance.

Nevach had watched where T'ral got the paddle and carefully lays it back where it belongs. "Will you tell him he's welcome for me?" Wiping his hands off on his swim shorts before helping himself to more oil. He smoothes it along Esanth's leg. Careful to avoid the sore spot he'd just helped with. His mother's words reach his ears where Jithan's hadn't and his little head pops out from 'round the dragon. "You won't let me ask to help or I would." He disappears once again to focus on oiling the blue's hide. A little sea tune hummed while he works away.

Jithan ahhhhhhs at his mistake, shrugging. Hundreds of apprentices, he can't be expected to remember much more then their names, right? Right. "My apologies, T'ral. Even my memory fails me sometimes. And no, I don't blame you in the least." He casts a smile at Nevach's helping, and then over at Nevelyn and T'ral. "Well, lady, young lad, and rider, it's been nice running into you. I'm afraid that my need for a swim calls. I'm sure that I'll see you around." And with that, he off towards the water, dropping his towel and doffing his sandals just above the high tide line and wading out into the sea.

T'ral isn't offended in the slightest. At signs that Jithan is departing he hustles to his bag and wipes his hands on a towel trotting back over so he can give Jithan a proper if still somewhat oily handshake. "Good to see you too, Si- Jithan." He nods at Nevelyn, earnest, "It's probably best if you wait for a 'rider to ask." He looks up across Esanth's sprawled form at Nevelyn, his head cocked, squinting, he's come around to quarter where he began, "Don't think you're off the hook," grinning. He looks at Nevach, "You can tell him. He'll understand."

Nevelyn smiles sweetly at Jithan, "Enjoy your swim." She watches the man wade out into the water before turning 'round to walk herself farther up onto the sand. Making her way around to where Nevach is playing in oil on dragon hide. She knows full well if she doesn't get him washed and in bed he'll be a terror come morning. "It's about time for your bath lil' man. Please thank T'ral for letting you help, eh?" She looks over at T'ral with an apologetic smile, "All the children have morning lessons. And it's time I get this one washed and return to my own post." She's spent all the 'mommy time' she can spare with her son for the moment. "I really appreciate you, T'ral. It's been a pleasure."

"You sure are welcome, Esanth," Nevach gladly informs the dragon and even gives the beast a soft pat. He looks up at his mother and scrunches up his face. "Aww man! Do I have to?" Clearly he already knows the answer to that as he rises to his feet with a frown. "Thank you T'ral for letting me help with Esanth. I'd sure like it if you'd let me help again sometime." He would happily kick the sand but he refrains in difference to Esanth. Instead he stomps over to his mama's side. Nevelyn lays her hand on her son's shoulder and steers him toward the Weyr. "Have a pleasant evening, T'ral."

T'ral stands, nodding. Post? Questions for another time. A time when he'd rope Nevelyn into the work too. He bows at Nevelyn's thanks, "You're quite welcome," eyes studious north of the collarbones. Mostly. Esanth lifts his head to turn and regard Nevach with slowly churning blue-green eyes. He whuffs, stirring the boys krinkly hair, and then turns away, stretching his head out flat again. T'ral chucks Nevach on the shoulder again with the back of an oily hand, "You're always welcome to ask Esanth and me, Nevach. We'll let you know if it's okay." He bows to Nevach, "Likewise." He watches the two walk away, one bounding, one sashaying. The sunlight is falling golden across everything. Beautiful. Everyone left before the hard stuff. "All right, pal. Get those wings stretched out." T'ral plants fists in his back, leaning back to stretch tired, complaining muscles. Assessing Esanth, he rolls one shoulder then another. He is standing at Esanth's tail, the dragon stretched out before him, sprawled, snout towards the water, tail towards the strand. Esanth raises his wings, blotting out the setting sun. It's the golden hour and his wingsails grow luminous. T'ral's heart skips, struck still for a moment. But just a moment and then he's back to his work.

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