Tuli, Mayte


Tuli and Elicheritath happen upon Mayte trying to coax Rhiscorath into a bath. Conversation ensues.


It is evening of the thirteenth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

You know who needs a bath? Well, Mayte does, but she's trying to quietly lure Rhiscorath into the water with her. "C'mon, it'll be good for you." Mayte is down to her necessaries and hopefully no one's giving her too many glances, but she's too busy working on getting the little gold to set foot into the water first. "You're starting to smell funny," Mayte replies to something, but Rhiscorath just sits, then spreads herself on a large patch of sand. Mine.

Mayte is doubtless growing accustomed to unsettlingly soft-footed dragons in her life. On the other hand, they're not usually eighty feet long. HI ELICHERITATH. The Spinner Queen comes skittering serenely along the dunes, cresting one small mound and coming to a halt. She enjoys watching things. And it's not creeper-behavior if you're watching your own offspring, right? Right. Compared to her silent LOOM of a lifemate, Tuli's is a noisier presence, her boots crunching and shifting on the sand. "Yeah, okay, so what's so fucking important that -" The complaint is cut off upon spotting FAMILIAR FIGURES. "Mayte!" A hand comes up in greeting. "Hello, Weyrling."

Mayte is used to the sound of … well, nothing, but the sound of spinners over sand is entirely a new one. Fortunately, Tuli's a lot more recognizable as noises go, and waves, then salutes, then waves again, "Evening, Weyrwoman Tuli!" Is it? Since time flies when you're mucking dragon couches, perhaps Mayte's surreptitious checking of Rukbat's position is a bit more understandable. Rhiscorath cranes her neck up from her splayed position in the sand to Elicheritath and offers a breathless hoot of greeting. Did you know people bathe in that thing? "How are you this evening? I'm just… trying to convince Rhissy," No one's getting convinced with that nickname, "that baths are good for her."

A soft maternal husking comes in reply to Rhiscorath's greeting: hello, progeny. Elicheritath pads over to perform an examination, legs jutting as she crouches low. "I take it she's no wilder about the lake than she is about the bathing pool," observes Tuli, drily following in her dragon's wake. "I'm well, thanks. Yourself?" The girl is eyed for a moment, before the older goldrider nods serenely - Mayte has evidently passed inspection - and turns her attention towards Rhiscorath. "Can't believe how big they've already gotten." She sounds faintly nostalgic, and regretful. Oh, dragonets. Why don't you stay pocket-sized FOREVER?

Rhiscorath pushes herself up out of her little resting dune to greet her mother, offering nose-touchies. Mayte, on the other hand, shakes her head, "Nope. Loves the sand, though." She observes a moment as Rhis tries to dig herself a little deeper into the beach. As for the dragonet's size, the Weyrling snorts, "It's like she grows another half-length a day! I'm starting to think I should just wait to start her straps when she starts slowing," and there's a brief pause of consideration: "But I already started, and if I don't keep going, Rhis starts chewing on them." That gets a faintly nervous look to Tuli: "Was Elicheritath, uh, as interested in chewing things when she was a dragonet??" A baby dragon, you mean.

Elicheritath's is the gossamer-soft touch, the faintest glimmer of webs descending down to wind their way through Rhiscorath's endless volumes. « Good evening, dear. » Maternal affection rings clear. A moment's pause, the skitter of spinners fanning out to explore within the depths of Dewey, and then she husks: « How are you farrrrrrrrring? »

Rhiscorath is hard at her studies, building a case, logic-block by logic-block, of why sand baths trump water, but the flip of pages pauses, a scritch of pen writing in an old tome. « Hello, mother. » There is fondness, perhaps a faint note of keenness to earn another supporter to her argument. « Mine wishes me to bathe again. » But the books might get wet! And the spinners too! The very idea of a spinner, safely the commander of his own little paper boat, floats by. « I am well otherwise. We have worked with firestone! And I tasted leather. And yourself, mother? »

"Weird. I wonder if she gets that from her sire?" Tuli taps her fingers idly on her chin. Tap, tap, tap. "I really should have asked El'ai more questions about Sekhaenkath…" WHOOPS. As her dragon returns the nose-nudges, then settles comfortably down besides her offspring, accidentally-on-purpose shoving a little more sand onto Rhis's dusty flanks, Tuli gestures for Mayte to join her in flopping down on the nearest dune. "She'll grow ridiculously fast. She's got further to go than any of her siblings, mind you. I remember when Elicheritath was only a foot or two longer than I was, when I laid down besides her. And now…" And now Tuli would fit comfortably inside her dragon's maw. Ahh, Anne science, with its lack of gravitational constraints! "As for chewing - well. No." Pause. Consider. "She's always been careful with property, actually…" Hastily added: "But every dragon is different."

Elicheritath wouldn't dream of discouraging her labors! But see her spinners skitter out to tidy a few wayward letters, see a mug of tea mysteriously appear besides the pages, a cookie or two discreetly added, while a subtle gust of comforting lemongrass-scent sweeps through. « Well. Riders have their notions. » No judgement hangs on Elicheritath's words: she seems quite content to let Rhiscorath make up her own mind on things. (It's not like she doesn't do so CAREFULLY, after all. Faranth, kid.) « Excellent learning experiences for you and your siblings. I am //very pleased at how well you're all growing. » There's just the FAINTEST touch of maternal cocooning. Elicheritath is not a suffocating mom. SHE IS NOT. But… BABIES. « I am well. » A pause. « You fare well with your studies, then? »//

Mayte looks over at Rhiscorath briefly and grins. "We didn't get a lot of time to talk with him, did we?" Mayte mentions distractedly, "But yeah. Even all the dragonets are so different, it's totally not like runners." The idea of Elicherath that small earns a coughing snort: "I can barely imagine when Rhiscorath was that size, now!" She accepts Tuli's invitation and sits, cross-legged on the sand, flicking some sand with fingertips stretched out. "I'm starting to wonder if queens are more… different than others?" Mayte ponders, then quickly, "She's great! Just, I keep having to… debate with her on things. Like baths. And firestone." Before the younger woman continues in her slightly exasperated tone, Rhis looks over. "Well, she's okay on the firestone so far. I think it'll be worse when everyone else starts chewing it."

Such a delightful reading nook! Rhiscorath sketches down the idyllic scene quickly, pausing for a moment. « Mine is awfully determined. » It's good, according to the smilie that follows those words. As for the maternality of it, Rhiscorath isn't retreating with a cry of « Mooooommm! » yet, because at least Elicheritath hasn't pulled out the embarrassing baby photos album. Instead, a notebook flies open, flipping to a certain page where quickly jotted notes over-run each other. « I do. They are fascinating! » S^ which, in conjunction to R will -> no reinforcements or punishments, and so on. (From Rhiscorath)

Tuli stretches her long legs contentedly out on the soft sand, hands bracing her upright. "That's a point of debate," the woman acknowledges, expression thoughtful. She squints over at the golden pair, Big vs. Small, together in the sand. "I'm not sure I believe they're actually smarter than other dragons, or naturally endowed with better memories, or any of the other things people will tell you. But they're generally very… pronounced… personalities. Strong-willed. I think it's because it's what other dragons need them to be. That potent maternal presence." Her lips purse in thought. "Elicheritath rarely debates with me outright - but," and this is said quite affectionately, "she tries to manipulate me into whatever she things is the appropriate behavior all the time." At the mention of firestone, the older woman snorts. "Flamethrowers are more fun, anyway. Though that ash vomit happens to be an excellent pesticide, for the record -" It always comes back to gardening with you, doesn't it, Tules?

Elicheritath can only husk, amusedly: « I hope she gives you a run for your marks. The best riders always do. » Elicheritath restrains herself from that baby photo album (she'll wait until Rhiscorath is OLDER for that, and around the hottest bronzes), though a subtle spinner does skitter sleekly off with a wayward letter or two. For safekeeping. In a nice fat cocoon. « And I'm glad. You'll be aloft and full-grown before you know it. » A tinge of that same nostalgia her rider earlier displayed? Maybe just a little. « What lessons do you like best? »

Draconis Major vs. Draconis Minor? Mayte follows Tuli's gaze over and hums a little: "Kinda has Elicheritath's look, though, doesn't she? With the darkness?" No mistaking Rhiscorath's mother, right next to her as she is. Tuli's theory gets a bit more thought though Mayte doesn't add to it, instead snorting a little: "Rhis can be like… like a stubborn wall. Like the water thing. And she's starting to get this idea of 'proper behaviour' too, but right now it's all about what the Weyrlingmasters have said so far, right?" Mayte shakes her head slowly and wrinkles her nose, "Guh, that ash… we haven't started chewing yet," and obviously that's a Weyrling-inclusive 'we', "but I keep hearing about how bad it smells. And on top of the poop?" Mayte pinches her nose shut and looks at Tuli with a little grin: "S'good for keeping the little buggers away, though, huh?" Perhaps that came out a bit nasally.

Rhiscorath can't quite roll her eyes, but there's exasperated amusement in her reply: « Then mine will be excellent. » And pride. A lot of pride in that tone. « We will still see you, Mother. » That rings with the confidence of youth, but Rhiscorath starts to bury herself a bit deeper into her hollow, watching those letters venture off to places unknown. She won't even try to dust them back into place. « I like the new lessons. Where I get to taste things! And see things. And the lessons where I try something new on my brothers and sisters. » Yes, Rhiscorath likes that new one best.

"She'll be prettier than Elicheritath," is Tuli's judgement, though a certain fondness in her tone suggests her dragon's… striking… appearance is one she views with affection. "But I'm glad she got that dark streak. It runs in the line, actually; Talicanitath, Eli's dam - and Rhiscorath's granddam - has a touch of it, too." The older goldrider absently scratches at the side of her nose. "Mind you, Hannah of Southern's Dhiammarath is Elicheritath's grandma times I forget how many generations… I think five…" TIME TRAVEL MAKES EVERYTHING COMPLICATED "… and that dragon is pale." After a moment's thought, the woman adds, amused: "That may be more information than you wanted. Sorry. Most goldriders become a little obsessed with dragon lineages after a point, I think…" Another pause. What were they talking about again? OH RIGHT: "Well, you'll learn to navigate it," she assures her, comfortingly. "It takes a little time to get used to each other. By the time you're full-grown, you'll've figured out what the trick is to get around her when it really needs to happen." More cheerfully, she adds: "I used to be in charge of a manure heap. I don't even notice bad smells, most of the time." Tuli that might not be a good thing to brag about.

Looking over, Mayte isn't about to say anything, just hmms quietly and grins. Instead, she listens intently to Rhiscorath's ancestry with interest, notably because Rhiscorath looks over too, and then blinks: "Hannah… That's the junior Weyrwoman at Southern, right? Shorter than me, pretty, likes big heels?" Mayte blinks a few times and shakes her head, "I met her a while ago. That's…" Great, Tuli. You just blew Mayte's mind. Onto safer topics, perhaps: "I can hardly wait for that time," the Weyrling confides with a little grin, "It's a little like how she tries to figure out her clutchsibs." As Rukbat starts to fade, Mayte comments, "I used to watch my dad work with his runners. He'd come back smelling pretty awful too, but then… It was kind of his scent, right?" So smelling bad is a part of being a parent? It's dusk before Mayte and Tuli are done chatting about bad smells and upbringings, Rhiscorath rising up and shivering off her sands. The younger pair make a respectful adieu to the Junior Weyrwoman and mother gold before slowly making their way back to the training grounds for the night.

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