Talya, F'kan, Rocketh, Turahaimajusuth, Quaverilth,


Weyrlings are playing in the rain, Rocketh comes for a peek and to offer unsolicited advice.


It is evening of the thirteenth day of the sixth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Training Grounds, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 11 Jul 2018 04:00


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« It is! But you gotta make sure to get it in all the places. Don't forget the neckridges! »


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.

It is the thirteenth day of Winter and 57 degrees. The day is dreary and overcast. A chilly winter rain is falling down in soft drizzles.

Even the dreariest of days wouldn't be enough to keep all the restless young weyrlings bound inside the barracks. And sure enough, through the drizzle and puddles, inquisitive babies romp and their lifemates cringe or do whatever it is weyrling riders do when they're exhausted and their dragons aren't. And among the swirling chaos, a shadow falls as Rocketh carefully makes a landing where he hopefully won't squish anybody. Once he's checked under his talons to insure indeed no squishing happened, a happy warble is given to all dragons present. Any weyrlingmasters, mostly as a formality, but he'll unabashedly crane his head to peer over the closest of the tiny dragons.

Not at all bothered by the drizzle coming down, Quaverilth is lounging on a low ledge, just high enough to be out of the mud. He's watching over his charges as Rocketh comes down, welcoming the bronze with a friendly warble as he watches the large dragon land amoung the babies with care. From the ground, keeping his own watchful gaze over the weyrlings, F'kan looks up at Rocketh's arrival with a smile as he winces slightly as the large dragon sets down amoung the little ones. He's gotten used to some of the older dragons coming in for a gander since they hatched.

Talya and Turahaimajusuth wanders out of the barracks looking particularly miserable as she follows her lifemate into the cold drizzle. The young woman is probably not immediately recognizeable: her hair had been sheared off to above the shoulder length, no longer in a runnertail and long. It's hanging loose around her face, and she wears a sleek new outfit in weyrling uniform colors. It fits her nicely for once! The baby brown needed to get out of the cramped quarters, and Talya obligingly follows. "Hey, wait— no, don't you dare!" Tura goes straight for some nice mud, the immaculately cleaned brown suddenly bounding forward and then— plop, right in it. «I hear this stuff is good for the hide.» It may not be a warm bath, but Turahaimajusuth is going to give a mudbath a try! Tal just groans, looking away from the disaster, only to notice F'kan there. She gives him a sheepish salute and a "Afternoon, sir."

« It is! But you gotta make sure to get it in all the places. Don't forget the neckridges! » Sorry, Talya. Rocketh's gonna go ahead and be a bad influence. A bit of gentle sunlight and seasalt breeze reaches out to the young dragon to try and encourage him further to the mud. Although he won't be joining in the mudbath. For fear of possible consequences from Niamyth, the bronze will stay almost statue still. D'wane meanwhile, is still nowhere to be seen. Checking on weyrlings would probably be more fun than endless meetings though.

F'kan is still getting used to be the one saluted and 'sir'ed', but he returns Talya's salute smartly with a look of sympathy. "Did he just get done bathing too? Quav did that to me a few times," he rolls his eyes in commiseration. For his part, Quaverilth's mind voice almost seems to ring with laughter, « They really don't need your encouragement. » His long neck curves gracefully as he stretches in the direction of the little brown, « You better be careful, with all the little ones running about, that might not be strictly mud. » See? He's being helpful and imparting wisdom and stuff.

"Yes," Talya tells F'kan miserably with a face. "We were just going out to get some fresh air before going back in for oiling." Turahaimajusuth was focused on this mud that only now does he turn to the big bronze watching them. «Like this?» Comes his cool foggy touch. Apparently he takes those words to heart, stretching out his wings and drooping them into the mud, using his legs to dig into the soft wetness and kicking it up all along his marbled hide. "Oh Faranth, no! Is that D'wane's bronze, did he just get that idea from him?" Bad Rocketh! She throws her hands into her short hair, but the glare on her face is looking around for the man responsible to yell at. Tura, however, suddenly freezes in covering himself from nosetip to tail. His head jerks around to stare at the adult brown. Can a dragon look horrified? Tura does. A talon is raised gingerly from the muck and he gives a delicate sniff. «It isn't that kind of muck, right? Who would do such a thing?!»

Rocketh turns his unmistakeably (handsome) stubby snout over towards Talya. If a dragon could be grinning smugly, he would be. As it is, his eyes just whirl a contented blue. « You'll have to practice every day if you really want to make sure you're neckridges are always properly hydrated! » His mental waves splash a jovial dismissal towards the older brown. « Shush you. Not like you wouldn't have encourage them if your's didn't accept that knot… » And as for the muck well, the island volcano rumbles a bit and the numerous pulmerias seem to grow instantaneously. « Think of it as fertilizer! It's good for growing things! »

Don't laugh at the weyrling's misfortune F'kan, that's simply bad form. The brownrider pinches his lips against any kind of mirth as watches the little brown get the (alleged) mud everywhere. Looking over at Rocketh, he just nods while clearing his throat, "Yep that looks like Rocketh alright." Suddenly remembering something, he digs into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a thick letter addressed to Talya. "Here, this is for you. From a blueridering friend of ours," he'll drop the propriety long enough to drop a wink at the girl before straightening up again. Quaverilth reaches out to Turahaimajusuth gently, « Well your clutchmates are still young, some of them don't have the knack of getting to the midden. » Swinging his head in Rocketh's direction, he warbles conversationally, « But mine did accept it, so that means I have to set the right example to follow. » Someone is taking his job very seriously.

Turahaimajusuth may have been gullible the first time, but they're talking about… well, crap. His siblings' crap. He doesn't seem convinced by Rocketh and sends out a warm blast through the fog-covered countryside at the dragons, his eyes whirling faster in agitation. To remain or to go running out? «But that just smells terrible and will probably make me smell for days.» Who knows what Talya will do to F'kan if he did laugh. "I've got a few words to share to D'wane when I see him next!" she groans… Things can't get any worse, right? Thankfully F'kan distracts her. She shoots a glare to him, expecting to actually find a joke. Only to blink at the letter and taking it carefully, as if it will bite her. "From a blue— oh. Wait, Th'res? You saw him recently?" Distracted, she gives the grounds a look around, just in time to spy her lifemate deciding the risk of the mudbath is too great and go leaping out into the rain, grumbling loudly in displeasure. "Oh, go let the rain wash it off! You aren't coming like that!" Let her lifemate suffer for a bit for his actions.

« Once you start chewing firestone, you won't really be able to smell much else…» Rocketh's going to encourage him to look on the bright side or something? He at least seems completely content with himself as he sits backs and rumbles out cheerfully. Good thing he's being careful around the babies or there might be the draconic equivalent of hearty back slaps passed around. As for Quaverilth's good exampleness, that gets another splash of the waves. « So were you the one that taught him to swim in muck? » Nevermind it was totally Rocketh. He'll blame the one actually in charge here.

"Easy now girl," F'kan holds his hands up soothingly, "That's the Weyrsecond you're talking about. You really can't be 'having words' with him while you're a weyrling y'know." Stating the obvious in case it needs stating. As he hands over the letter, he nods, "Yep, earlier today actually. Bumped into him and he asked me to bring this to you." His smile is warm as he looks back over at the young brown as he finally steps out of his puddle to rinse himself in the rain. Quaverilth shifts on his ledge, leaning down over the training grounds as he looks at Rocketh with disbelief, « I did not! You just did! » The calm lake of his mind ripples with righteous indignation. How did this come back on him?

"We're here learning to control our dragons and his is putting horrible thoughts into mine," Talya growls out. She doesn't really want to yell at the big bronze himself… so she'll take the other half. The anger has at least drained as she watches her brown get some of the mud off, her eyes focused on him as she attempts to sooth mentally. It's a bit shattered though, because of other thoughts. Her dark eyes slide over curiously to F'kan as she tucks the litter under her arm. "Writes a letter but can't just come down here and see Tura himself?" She tries not to sound hurt by that, nonchalant. "Is he well?" she has to ask, while her mind is on that train of thought. Is Rocketh trying to make the baby brown completely miserable? Turahaimajusuth whirls around to face the big bronze, his tail flicking out some of that mud in Rocketh's direction (completely unintentional but the brown will take it). Some of the color drains out from his fast whirling eyes, almost as if he took ill. «No, no… that can't be possible. I'll still be able to smell. Right?»

Rocketh will oh so helpfully stoop his neck down so he's practically nose to nose with the little brown. « Sure, you'll still be able to smell! Firestone! » Even though today was not a thread day, there's even an ever lingering trace of the phosphorous stone on the bronze hide. But also, Rock's not completely heartless and will tack on, « And probably some herdbeast. And the sea. » You know, the things that are important. As for Quaverilth, his one eye facing the adult brown will quickly lid over and open up again. Somebody taught Rocketh to wink!

"Remember, you have to learn to control yourself as well Talya," F'kan warns gently as he sees the anger in his eyes, relaxes when it seems to dissipate. "And you really can't just go up to the Weyrsecond and yell at him for his dragon being a bad influence. That will get you in heaps of trouble, and all of us because we didn't teach you well enough about hierarchy and respect for rank." He tries to be as gentle as he possibly can, but he's definitely worried the girl might do something drastic. "And don't blame Th'res for that, I said you probably needed more time before you should expose Tura to the kinds of emotions his visit might bring up in you." He drops his voice then, so it's just Talya who can hear, "You really want him to pick out some image of the two of you together and project it to the rest of your class?" Quaverilth is still midly disgruntled despite the wink the bronze gives him, but he does reach out with a tendril of sparkling violet energy in the little brown's direction, « You will not loose your sense of smell. I haven't, and I haven't heard of any dragon who has. » he reassures.

Talya is going through a wave of emotions, both from herself and her lifemate, but she seems to be start stomping them down with some serious effort. Anger to annoyance to being a little perplexed at the brownrider's teaching. "I mean… it's D'wane. Oh alright, I promise I won't get anyone in trouble while I'm a weyrling." After weyrlinghood… well, she still had certain missions to accomplish with said Weyrsecond. She presses her lips tightly at the comments about Th'res, suppressing her own emotions there. "I wouldn't have any emotional outburst or anything— I mean, it doesn't seem to be like that any more." She looks nervously at Tura, as if those thoughts are exactly what is crossing her mind. But the brown is, thankfully, distracted even if unhappy. Woe is him! He looks between the bronze. Then the brown. Then the bronze. Who does he believe? «But what if I do lose my sense of smell, or I just always stink like him?» Fog turns to a miserable heavy cloud, echoing the drizzle in the air. A piteous whine escapes him, forcing Talya to finally move out into the rain. "You won't lose your scent, Tura, trust me. I won't let it happen," she says with a heavy sigh, moving to help wipe some of that mud off his nose.

« You say stink, but the ladies love me! » Rocketh practically crows a warble and then, his mischief done, the bronze takes a few steps back and launches himself into the sky before a certain lightning-bug green can appear to contradict him (seeing as he was kind of harassing her charges). And that sudden departure has absolutely nothing to do that D'wane and some of Jaguar's riders are currently making a circuit of the bowl that will be passing close enough to at least recognize a full grown bronze being where he shouldn't be before continuing on their PT laps.

"That's all I ask," F'kan says with an easy chuckle, "Just know that getting kicked back to weyrlinghood isn't at all fun." Trust him, the man speaks from experience. At her protests about not even thinking that way about Th'res anmore, he gives her a sympathetic look. "Don't blame Th'res though, it was my decision," he reiterates, which is sorta true. "We still haven't done the classes on working on your mindlink, and being able to get a little privacy in your thoughts. After you get at least good at that would probably be a good time for him to come and meet Tura." Quaverilth looks eminently relieved when the bronze takes his leave from the training grounds, grumbling quietly in his wake. Slipping off the edge now to sidle up to the younger brown, he whuffles softly, « Firestone stink does come off. No worries. Listen to your lifemate little one. Trust her. » Crooning softly, the brown looks over approvingly at his rider who returns the look in kind.

Talya smirks at the man on his comment about re-experiencing weyrlinghood. "Who knew being a fu— er, screw up would make you the best suited to this job though?" She doesn't seem to wait to believe it is just F'kan fault. "Right, he probably knows what this is like better than I do right now. And privacy would really be nice. I just wanted to see him around now that I'm not a candidate… you know, a friend to see after so long." She looks down to the moist letter under her arm. It will have to do for now. But she's got a dragon to comfort, and as she watches Rocketh go with a glare she closes the distance again to the weyrlingmaster with urging the dragon to shake off some more of that mud. «Trust her when she cannot even care for her own hide? She looked so good just a moment ago.» The misery doesn't seem to linger heavily on the brown's mide, avoiding a meltdown at least. He seems to have taken Quaverilth's words to heart: he shall still smell pretty. "Let's get you another bath and that nice smelling oil again before bed."

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