====January 30, 2013
==== Lendai and Yules
==== The night before Talicanitath's clutch hatches, Lendai finds Yules in the Galleries, trying to do some work.

Who Lendai and Yules
What The night before Talicanitath's clutch hatches, Lendai finds Yules in the Galleries, trying to do some work.
When The night before Talicanitath's second Southern clutch hatches.
Where Hatching Galleries

lendai_5.jpg Yules10.jpg


galleries.jpg

Hatching Galleries
Stone benches rise, black and showing the lack of polish from a thousand seats — by the look of it, these have not been used in… forever, if ever indeed.


It’s quiet in the Hatching Galleries, and the various gawkers and clumps of curious folk have wandered off to find their various beds, hammocks, slings, cots, and whatever. Which is understandable because it’s a bit past the middle of the night, making it a prime place to do some hidework in the presence of warmth, eggs, and memories, so there is Yules, stripped down to near-immodesty - a loose shirt and short trous that no amount of washing will get the stains out of. She’s got hides on either side of her and one in her hand. In the other, a stylus that is in danger of smearing ink along one cheek, and off to one side, a mug that’s in danger of falling off the seat. Every so often, Yules looks up to observe the eggs, nod politely at Talicanitath, and make sure NO ONE else is there to see her.

Whether it is the nightly visitor that has Talicanitath calling to her rider, or some other mysterious reason, it matters not, as Lendai enters onto the sands. Much like Yules, she’s adorned in something barely decent. In the Weyrwoman’s case, it’s a simple silky looking nightgown and her pink riding boots. Totally fashionable. The dragon and eggs are checked up on first, a mental conversation going on between rider and beast before the moment passes, Talicanitath is given a loving scratch before Lendai moves up and into the galleries. It takes no time at all for the goldrider to reach the brownrider. Arms cross at her chest as Yules and her wardrobe is scanned, an eyebrow lifting. “Surely you do not sleep in such a thing? How do you expect to seduce a man to your bed, brownrider? Unless you prefer to sleep in nothing at all?” Nothing like inappropriate midnight conversations!

Yules was entirely entranced into her paperwork - despite the brilliant splash of Lendai-pink, the woman was deeply intent on some calculation that’s been scratched out several times. Her huff of annoyance becomes a GULP! of surprise: Yules doesn’t quite leap into the air but she starts violently, settling down to blink at Lendai for a long moment. Oh yeah. The other half of this Weyr. Expressions flit between bemused, worried, and just a little resigned, because this really seems to be happening. “Ahhhhhh, I don’t?” And then because Yules is TMI embodied, she corrects, “Expect to?” Because truth is the right answer, right? The brownrider looks down at herself, then back up to Southern’s Fashionista: “And it’s way too warm to wear this to sleep.” Does that make the latter the only other option? Yules doesn’t answer that. Instead, she’ll ask politely, “How are you doing, Weyrwoman?” A nice, neutral question, right?

Not just the other half of the Weyr. The BEST half of the Weyr. “Pfft, that’s no answer for a young dragonrider with her entire life and numerous flights ahead of her to say. You’ve got a big brown, I’m sure you’ll be winning a fair share of flights before you have to head between.” Or she does HORRIBLY in Threadfall. Whichever comes first! Lendai makes herself comfortable right next to the brownrider, probably sitting a little too close for comfort. But it’s in the Weyrwoman’s nature to be annoying, even if she doesn’t intend to be. “It is, isn’t it? The humidity of Southern was refreshing at first, compared to the dry heat of Igen and the frigidness of High Reaches. I find it gets old fast.” And sweaty. Oh so sweaty. “I’m well, thank you. Talicanitath has a feeling the eggs will hatch tomorrow, maybe the next day. She wouldn’t let me sleep until I came out and had a look. Can’t say I’m unhappy about that. I’m quite sick of the sands.” Elbows rest on knees and her chin chests on her hands. “And you, Yules? What brings you to the hatching caverns this late at night? A midnight tryst?” Eyelashes flutter, eyebrows waggle. The teasing is fun!

The unfortunate thing about riding is that a rider has a lot of time with his face under a scarf to keep out unpleasant things. This means Yules’ complexion has paled somewhat, and with the light of glows in the Galleries that drudges put out (after their own peek at the eggs, of course), Yules’ slow blush can’t be hidden. “Um. Yeah. Desmeth has been pretty, ahh, active on those.” Maybe Lendai can sympathise: “He says he’s perfecting his technique, or something.” The eggs! Eggs are a safe subject! Yules turns quickly to examine them, as if they’ll hatch just to break some tension, “That’s good. Good to get those Candidates dragons of their own, instead of asking to bathe Desmeth.” Jealous a little, Yules? “And he just adores helping the young ones out.” That blush that was starting to abate flares up again, Yules holding up a sheet, “Unless I’m trysting with work…” A joke that falls flat once Yules realizes who she’s saying what to, and tries to stop herself before that final ‘k’ is out, “The sheets! I’m between sheets, I mean! But… not?” Let’s just let Yules lapse into confused silence here.

“Has he won any yet?” Lendai asks, tilting her head to the side as she keeps her eyes on the brownrider’s own. “Makes me envious sometimes. Getting to chase. Seems a lot more exciting than getting chased. Though being proddy is fun.” The look of a cat that ate the canary crosses Lendai’s face. “Good excuse to do what I want with little repercussions.” A saucy wink to Yules. “Yes! It will be good. Plus Bailey is a proddy little mess at the moment, so her gold will hit the skies soon meaning even more eggs. It’ll be nice to have a small reprieve of candidates before her dragon clutches.” A very, very small reprieve as it were. “It’s good though. We need all the riders we can get, even if this next batch won’t be ready to fight Thread for another turn or so.” Laughter bubbles out of the Weyrwoman, sitting up straight and clapping her hands. “Oh you are too cute!” Just to emphasis this, Lendai leans over and gives Yules’ cheeks a pinch with both hands. D’awww! “Getting all flustered!” This all just tickles her pink. “So there another rider that has your attention? Perhaps a certain someone special?” Nothing like prying into someone else's love life!

The question of whether Desmeth has won a flight might be answered by Yules’ suddenly flaming scarlet cheeks, or her looking anywhere but at Lendai, but draconic pride demands a response, “Yes… A green up at Igen while we were visiting, but he’s started chasing more since.” Quiet pride of her brown’s ahem, conquest smoothes into Yules’ explanation: “He really enjoys the thrill of it.” Enough of that, though; Yules huhs, “I thought Desmeth was being a bit more, ah, gentlemanly than usual.” A changing expression might indicate thought or a need for the latrines, but she don’t get to relate either, because suddenly her cheeks are getting pinched and Yules freezes. A quick look at Talicanitath - halp? - but she’s probably on her own here: “Ahhh, there are some nice-looking young men in the Weyr…” Trying to hedge her words, Yules falls for it: “There’s a nice young Trader I see sometimes, or…” Who else is there? “Uhhh, El’ai is growing up into a nice young man?” Is it that Yules hasn’t settled down, or she’s running through a mental list of Attractive Men in the Area?

(ooc The fun part of Gdocs is you get to look through your pose more thoroughly before finalizing it)

Ah, youth. To be part of that club once more. Alas, Lendai is pushing forty so she’ll just need to suck out the youth of those around her. In this case, poor Yules. “That’s fantastic! Congrats. A lot of times the younger dragons do not catch until they are a bit more… practiced in flights. Desmeth is a special one!” Lendai’s words are genuine. “It’s also quite nice to see a brown with some manners, I must say. Whether brought on by a proddy gold or not.” So many jerk dragons. Seriously. Talicanitath is absolutely no help to the plight of Yules. She’s busy mucking around on the sands, removing sand from around her eggs to give them better leverage should they decide to ‘free the beast’ as it were. “There are, aren’t there?” is her response to the brownrider’s comments. “A trader, is it? You be careful with those relations with nonriders. It can get… difficult. They don’t always understand the demands on a rider. More so a rider with a dragon that enjoys chasing.” A small smile lifts on her lips. “He has, hasn’t he? Hard to believe he is Bailey’s brother sometimes. They are like day and night.” Evil and good. Angel and devil. “Is there any that you have… oh, what is the word? Intentions on? El’ai is a good-looking young man… if you like the untried type.” Pause. “Do you?”

Yules shrugs, looking a bit like she might not have known what was going on either: “I… there weren’t a lot of other riders there,” is her very simple reasoning, “So maybe there weren’t a lot chasing.” Way to down-play your dragon. A little snort, followed by, “It’ll last until just before the flight. Ahhh, he tends to get rude in that overly nice way.” Like a Victorian gentleman studying the art of fisticuffs, perhaps. Yules watches the moving of the eggs and wonders, “Are the Candidates having the same experiences we did? With nightmares and stuff?” Fond memories, now; Yules can grin just a little, until Lendai speaks of liasings: “Iain’s nice,” she defends quickly, and then adds, “He had cookies.” We all have our breaking point. After a pause, the head of prematurely greying hair (Lendai can totally have some of that) nods slightly, “I haven’t seen many working out, so far.” Rider/non-rider, that is. El’ai is a rider, but… El’ai - Yules looks a little flummoxed on that topic, “He’s just so… nice.” Nice guys may not always finish last, but is El’ai even in the game? “And Ocelot. And, Bailey’s, um… intimidating.” To put it mildly. Definitely a considering factor. Lendai’s last gets wide-eyes and an awkward silence for just a moment, “Noooo. No. No young’uns for me.” How did we even get onto this topic? Oh yeah: Lendai. “So, what are you planning to… do once the eggs are hatched?” Small talk, Yules’ favourite masochistic hobby.

“Be proud of your dragon’s accomplishments! Who knows, perhaps it will be a gold he catches next and you will get the joy of sitting on the sands, sweating profusely.” There is also all that pride of your dragon’s babies and blahblahblah, but seriously. So hot on those sands. Lendai wiggles a little in her seat, trying to find comfort on the stone bench. A soft snort leaves the Weywoman. “Nightmares, please. Some of your lot simply did not have what it takes to be a rider if they were letting the flitting thoughts of unborn dragons disturb them. What will come from the skies and kill us all is far more terrifying. Should so many candidates have complained of dark images and being scared when I was a candidate, we would have been removed from candidacy!” Lendai is old school. Candidates need to be tough. “If any of them are having problems, they are doing well to keep it to themselves lest I boot their weakling asses from my Weyr. We have no need for the soft in these times.” Getting all serious up in here, the Weyrwoman appears grave for a few moments, only to shake it off and try to air out the tension her words may have brought on. “You are correct, they really do not work. It’s simply too difficult for nonriders to understand the complexities of having another being that matters more than anyone else could ever.” Shoulders are shrugs. A wry smile appears on her lips. “Back in the day, I would go on vacation for a sevenday or so, sadly with Thread near to start, I need to get better with my flame thrower. So once those eggs are hatched, I’ll be practicing with the queen’s wing.” Lendai crosses her legs in another attempt for comfort. “Are you prepared to help lead a wing?” Yules promotion hasn’t been lost on the goldrider.

Yules’ face goes from quiet anticipation and eagerness to relative dread: “Sitting… on the Sands.” Bemusement follows, “I remember Talicanitath’s first clutch,” anyone else remember the awkward cook playing secretary? “That was quite hot.” Tell the woman who knows this intimately, good job. Ahem. Yules’ head starts to nod in agreement with Lendai, though she adds, “Well, I haven’t heard much about it, and they said each clutch is different.” That seems to be a good wrap-up on Candidates in Yules’ estimation because she waves the hide in her hand as if to chase the thought off. A vacation? Hazel eyes brighten a little, “You used to get a seven-day off?” Clearly this is revolutionary but perhaps, “It must be good to be Weyrwoman sometimes,” the brownrider muses. Anyways, “Well, except now there’s no time for that, with Thread.” Speaking of which, Yules draws herself up as Lendai probes the new knottery: “I am prepared,” she replies seriously, but then an uneasy shift in her seat reveals the crack in her demeanor, “I’m just working to ensure the rest of the wing is, too.” Did that sound a bit too pat, a bit too rehearsed? She tries to cover with, “And it will be!” Fo’ sho’!

Lendai nods slowly, “Yes, hot. And sweaty.” Has she mentioned sweaty enough times yet? Probably not. “True enough, each clutch is different, each egg is different, each dragon is different. And every reaction a candidate gets is different. I wonder… you think it might be telling? Should an egg react so violently against a candidate, that they should simply not be a candidate?” It’s a good question to ask, perhaps one she’ll bring up to Hannah and Bailey later on. “Well, it’s the only vacation we generally get,” Lendai gives a cheeky grin. “One every two to three turns and all.” Legs are crossed and uncrossed and then crossed again. A yawn is given from the Weyrwoman as the time continues to tick away and night keeps on moving forward. Yules words get an even more genuine smile from the goldrider, her head rising a notch at the brownrider. “Good! Good. Q’fex, for all he’s a fucking asshole of a person… he’s a passable Weyrleader. He wouldn’t have put you as wingsecond if he didn’t think you competent.” She pauses. “Are you worried? At all?” Her lower lip is worried between her teeth as she contemplates her next words. “I am, some. I never led a wing, now I find I must to some extent with the queen’s wing. Though at least it is so very much smaller than what you must deal with.” Lendai scoots closer to Yules, her voice hushing, “The last time I practiced with my flamethrower I flamed Hannah’s pants off.” And not in a good way.

Does the egg know? Yules’ lips purse as she ponders that possibility: “I… don’t think so,” she replies slowly, “Myself. Or then they wouldn’t have been Searched, right?” Furrowed brows relax back to an easier expression. “I mean, Search dragons can be wrong, but that wrong?” Like she’s been compiling statistics or something. In any case, Yules eyes Lendai’s yawn, trying hard to resist making her own: “We,” one finger twirling about the Galleries, “I mean, Ocelot will do the Weyr proud.” There’s a head-tilt of almost-modest acknowledgement of Q’fex’s decidings with a faint, proud grin. Yules does lean in slightly to Lendai’s small confession - just between girls, and gives her own: “I… I am, just a bit.” Just a little bit. That sheaf isn’t trembling in her lap. “After what happened to Jiamoth…” Now Thread is a real thing. Though flaming Hannah’s pants off? Yules’ eyes go round with shock, “Her… pants?” And then, because Yules likes to look on the slightly less negative side of things, “Well, she doesn’t look like her pants got flamed off. No scarring. No limping.” The shrug is a bit casual but Yules does add, “But, ahh, I won’t mention it to anyone.” Eyebrow waggle of conspiracy. And then another yawn, leaving Yules looking faintly horrified.

Eyes are rubbed briefly, Lendai’s eyes starting to get that bloodshot look of exhaustion. “They can, it’s true. I don’t believe they were terribly choosey either. Don’t have that, what’s the word? Liberty? Yeah. Liberty. Need bodies for the dragons and holders and crafters aren’t always willing to give up their children to the dangerousness of Thread.” No matter that being asked to Stand is an honor. Arms are stretched up and over the Weyrwoman’s head, her back getting a crack. Someone is getting too old to stay up this late. “Don’t let what happened to Jiamoth get to you. That, in my opinion, was rider error through and through. Also complete stupidity by the dragonhealers and, again, the dragonrider. Amputation. For a dragon. Seriously.” Lendai grumbles this, before dropping it, her own opinion of that matter rather volatile and not for this late night conversation. “You’ll do just fine! As shall I.” Hopefully. “Yeah. Luckily it only singed Hannah’s skin. Though she got my hair.” The Senior sadly pats her now shorn locks, kept short for the sake of future Thread fights. “I miss my pigtails.” Sniffle. Another yawn breaks free of the woman, eyes blinking furiously. “Shards and shells.” Lendai gets to get feet, again with another stretch. “You and I should get to bed, young lady. Talicanitath tells with assurance they will be hatching soon. She bets in only a few candlemarks. Get a little shut up while you can, there will surely be a party afterwards and appearances by those of us with rank will be required.” The new knot upon Yules’ shoulder is gestured at, as is her own.

“Well,” Yules says almost tartly while looking off over Lendai’s shoulder, “Once Thread starts falling, they’ll realize the necessity.” So far from the young, Farm-grown little cook she once was, Yules wonders, “Are there any records from… earlier this Interval about how to Search? Like,” thin lips twist into a wry grin, “a recipe, perhaps - dash of kidnapping, two teaspoons of lies, and a dredging of trickery. Even if we shouldn’t have to.” Hmph! The brownrider does start to shift a little uneasily in her seat, whether from the sound of Lendai’s back cracking or the criticism of Cerise and Jiamoth, her shoulders hunching a little and her tone is low: “Some lay the blame at the Wingleader’s feet.” There’s a bit of anger in her voice, but Yules stops abruptly, eyeing Lendai’s hair with new understanding: “That’s why everyone’s going around with short hair!” As Lendai rises, Yules starts to collect herself and her hides, using them to hide a third yawn, and then uses the back of her hand to wipe away yawn-tears. “Bed sounds like a good idea,” she’ll admit, then huhs, eyeing Lendai’s knot and then craning her neck to examine her own: “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that aspect of the WingSecond job.” A bemused blink, and Yules pushes herself to stand, “I’d just figured with Q’fex as the Wingleader too…” but that trails off into Yules nodding seriously, “I’ll be there.” Possibly glowering.

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