No doubt dragons have relayed in part some of the situation outside, and some of the drama that had ensured outside - not just whatever this particular pair were possibly up to, but the whole litany of situations, like some series of disparate illustrations at a Harper story convention. Zavyr and A'lira, escorted in by B'ram, pause by the door. Zavyr's been here before, both figuratively and literally; 'trouble', in its various forms, seems to be her second home. But she salutes Vosji and enters, sidestepping. Nynnth, at least, had trailed in as well, but he remains outside in the near side of the barracks proper - both the blue and Zavyr seem loathe to be very far apart, physically.

It has been A Day in the barracks. Or, rather, it's been something like a trying hour for the weyrlingstaff — but in those early days, this is what happens. Vosji is relatively unphased, just feeling bad more than anything that she's taking time in here rather than out there with the … fallout. Associated with other minor catastrophes, mostly. But she'd already been in the office, dealing with the administrative overhead that's far less fulfilling than direct interaction, and now she's got this particular dance to dance. Iskanzivoth is keeping a comforting, steady, silent presence in Kyprioth and Nynnth's minds: he's here, just everybody relax, it's going to be okay. Vosji glances at B'ram, dismisses him with that glance, and her gaze is direct on brownrider and bluerider: "Tell me what happened."

A'lira is also there, escorted by B'ram as well, and looking distinctly nervous. 'Trouble' isn't exactly his zone to exist in, yet he knows this will not be good. Hang-dogging it about the main barracks, Kyprioth slinks over to the door, snuffles, and lies down to await whatever doom might befall his rider. He salutes Vosji rather stiffly, figuring on formality being a safe bet when all else would likely fail. He'll volunteer to speak, all things considered. "We were… incautious. Or.. I was, more than she. I let my… desires.. get ahead of my good sense." How does one explain the breaking of a rule? Especially when that rule results in so much unrest?

Actually, Zavyr had drawn a total blank at Vosji's question. In the greater scheme of her life, what just happened was completely trivial (nobody died) and she's not entirely sure…What Happened. Except that Something must have, because she and A'lira are here. Her brain had ticked along quite some distance from the embarassing flurry of images and sensations that Nynnth had broadcasted to the local populace; it takes A'lira's reaction to focus Zavyr. She blinks, trying to mask the 'Oh!' expression that might briefly animate her expression, as she glances sidelong to A'lira. "Ah. You are referring to…" Zavyr recognizes Vosji's tactic. 'Tell me what happened' instead of specifying what happened, leaving to the other party the possibility of revealing more than what the questioner actually knows. "I suspect you are referring to Nynnth's …" Zavyr doesn't even know the word to describe it, waves a hand from her mind to the world in general, "What I was thinking?"

"I suspect," Vosji attempts to answer Zavyr's question, after giving A'lira an approving half-smile and nod for his summing up of the events and attempt to take a larger portion of the blame — she knows Zavyr likes to take the heat for others, what happens when they're both doing it? "That part of the issue here is that you weren't. Thinking, I mean. Between the impact of Impression and the muddle that are hormones and minds in general," she waves her hand dismissively. No good word for it. Except not thinking. "This is why we don't allow touching at all. Especially with someone you may have a history with." She sounds a little bit urgent, firm, but not really angry so much as put out and disappointed. These two seemed like they had braincells to rub together. Why make such a mess so early? Someone always does, every clutch just about, but … "The most important thing is that your dragons are all right. Nynnth? Kyprioth?" She's looking right at them: they're sentient beings who deserve to be included. "Please let Iskanzivoth know if either of you need anything or are feeling uncomfortable, all right? He can … explain things to you, if you need, while I talk to your riders. You're both welcome to stay where you are, though."

A'lira just doesn't trust his braincells right now. Apparently, they've gone on vacation at the worst possible time. He bites at his lower lip. "She did… gather her wits much faster than I did. Ma'am." He sighs, nervously begins to tug at a dredlock, and searches for the mental bulwark of his dragon — as new a thing as it is, already it helps, knowing there's someone out there who is with him no matter what. Outside, the brown lifts his head, tilts it, and croons softly, shifting closer to the door. A brief flurry of dogwood and petals twines about the edges of Iskanzivoth's mind, tentative assurance; what's done is past and the puppyish dragon seems more concerned with his rider's confusion than the goings-on of twenty minutes ago. Oh, the forgetful minds of the young. "Faranth. I ain't… quite… put as much stock in that rule as I should have." He admits forthrightly, with a soft sigh. "Didn't think beyond the want. I shoulda… but it's too late for dat, now, ain't it?" He asks Vosji, rubbing at his eyes irritably. "This gonna create trouble for dem?" He jerks his head toward the door, to the two waiting dragons.

Nynnth is, if anything, rather snoozy. The digging outside, the flamboyant emotions that raced through him, the heat of Rukbat on his hide and sensations of Sand under his claws…He's actually a bit hungry…? But well-being is manifest. Vosji and Iskanzivoth both will feel the return acknowledgemet of pleasure at being recognized, considered, as manifestation of chill and crisp darkness, hints of trickling fluid and a sense of wide-open space. Zavyr clears her throat at Vosji's words, but waits for A'lira to speak, sidelonging him another look, before addressing Vosji. "When we realized how much they were… Picking up on us… We figured. Yes. Bad idea. I shouldn't be thinking that kind of…Right now anyway. I'm just not used to the theater of my mind being shared by anyone. Much less shared to everyone." Droll, that. "Ma'am. The rule didn't make any sense during Candidacy. Of a sudden, it made ALL SORTS of sense… Today. But it wasn't just Aleri- Alar- A'lira." She does clear her throat. "And no history, ma'am, of…That. Just talk. We only met during Candidacy. And have behaved."

If anything, Vosji appears to be satisfied above all other emotions. She doesn't seem to be mad at them, which Iskanzivoth can pass to their lifemates: his shores-against-ship-hulls wafting warm seaspray for both of the weyrlings. Hunger will be satisfied, soon, and his Vosji is not angry and no one will be hurt and neither of them, the dragons, are in trouble. It's just a step in growing up. "The talk, nonetheless, made it worse. In candidacy, it is mostly a preparation for — this. And now it makes sense to you both. You have learned the hard way, rather than staying in line and not trying it out, but everyone will learn one way or another." She sounds disappointed, too. She is disappointed, shaking her head. "You have broken rules, and serious ones at that — I believe you need not listen to any more reprimand than you have likely suffered from their distress, but for their protection the consequences will be … you may find them to be rather harsh. I hope your appreciation of why we have these rules will allow you to accept what I'm going to do with you without too much complaint." They might think her ruling is harsh, but she follows the same protocol every time something like this happens in one of her classes and it's always worked. At least at Ista. May Igen not be different.

A'lira offers Zavyr a sidelong glance — at least they're both willing to bite the bullet on this. Right? Right. And — mystery solved! At least he knows, now, why that inconvenient rule was in place, even if he still hates it. "Ha. Found m'self wishin' it wasn't there, but… pff. I ain't no weyrman by birth, don't know half what I thought I did, which wasn't much to begin with." Well, since he's already under the eye of a weyrlingmaster, he might as well just not even try to hide. Lessons must be learned, even if they make the student cringe. "If.. it it's like apprenticeship in the Hall… we allus separated troublemakers… " He volunteers, slowly, disliking both the idea of being seen as a troublemaker and being separated from the object of his desire. But, too, there is rue: "Bought our own punishment, ain't we?" He asks in an attempt at levity. "Ain't your fault I acted the fool when I shouldn't have. Shoulda known bettah, y'all made it clear 'nuff y'all had rules we were to follow. I ain't do it, so… gotta swallow mah pill, don't I."

For once, the Fool decides not to talk. Zavyr, hence, settles into the stance they require during rests, at PT, and listens. Gold Joy flicks in from *between* and some quick communication has her settling hastily on Zavyr's shoulder. Maybe the firelizard's settling is the excuse for Zavyr to look over at A'lira, one brow slightly arching behind that curtain of hair that hasn't been cut yet.

That look of satisfaction does not disappear; Vosji seems pleased at this conclusion. Zavyr's firelizard appears well trained, so there is no reprimand yet for any interruptions. A'lira's maturity is gaining him points, here: he seems to understand what he's done and why she's going to make things hard but not impossible. "Precisely. Very good, weyrling formerly known as journeyman; the best thing for your lifemates' development and your own safety," because distractions make people die between, okay, this is very serious stuff and her face indicates it with the emphasis put on that word, "Is to keep the two of you separated. The protocol dictates doing so until you move into your own weyrs — your own weyrs," she repeats. "Which you would be able to visit each other in, but do not expect we'll be letting you live together." No doubt, she has also seen a pair try that, and it went poorly. "Not that that will be an issue for some time. For the next approximately six months, you will be isolated from each other except in groups. You will not be alone with each other; at a minimum, you will be with myself or a member of the staff or your mentor wing, all of whom will be notified that you are not meant to be interacting one-on-one." A breath, a pause for processing. "At least one must switch couches so you are as far away from each other in the barracks as physically possible without causing too much unrest to your classmates." Pause. At least all of the others hadn't gotten TOO settled yet. "Any attempts at passing notes will be intercepted — if you want to write each other notes you would be better off just turning them directly over to a weyrlingmaster, who will screen the content and then deliver it for you — yes, I did know someone was going to ask that," even if they didn't know they were going to ask about writing notes, it's another someone always does, "You may be in group lessons together, but if partners are required you may not partner with each other. You may not bathe together except at opposite ends in larger groups. There are no loopholes, so please do not expect to find any; for the duration of your junior weyrlinghood, you simply must separate as much as possible. This is partly a punishment, but because your actions were mostly idiocy rather than malice, it is mostly reparative." Can't be idiots again without opportunity to be idiots. She stops, then, and levels them both with a serious look: any questions? Comments?

A'lira takes a deep breath — considers arguing, ditches it as quicky — and lets it out, slowly. Sweet Faranth, this is NOT good news. Is that embarrassment he tastes? Ew, it's worse than unsweetened fellis. He doesn't like this — it's cringeworthy, indeed, to have such oversight at his age — and yet, knowing he deserves it, he will choose acceptance over objection. "Yes'm." Is all he will say, with another formal salute.

Zavyr's expression has settled into the absolute neutral of the finest of dragonpoker players. But - she forgets again; while she can hide her reaction - Nynnth simply channels it, so that the flush-crush of disappointment-irritation-frustration evokes the dragonet's instant physical response: He's up, with flared wings and eyes gone yellow as he scrabbles toward Zavyr. Almost as quickly, the woman has turned, chagrin writ across her features, as Joy flies up and Zavyr is kneeling, cradling the blue's muzzle against her chest, fingers drawing soothing strokes down his neck. "Oh, no, my sweet. I'm fine. It's fine. I'm just being stupid, love, shhh." She maintains that pose for a few seconds, until she's assured that Nynnth has steadied, is calm, and it's there that she'll rise to look over at A'lira, expresionless, and Vosji with a nod, "We'll move, ma'am. Obviously…" The brief display underscores that Zavyr, at least, needs to get a handle on herself.

"I have no doubt that you will both do well as dragonriders if you both learn to operate within the parameters that you are given," Vosji says, still all collected-boss-attitude about herself, her confidence in her weyrlings underlined with her disappointment that they have not measured up from the beginning. Iskanzivoth's got mental treasures to share with distressed Nynnth once he is assuaged some by Zavyr, offering up a few of his mindvoice's shiny-things for the dragonet's distraction: a sparkling sextant, a slightly worn-out gold coin from an old dusty box somewhere, a compass, and he has a real nice rock collection on his ledge you can come see when you can fly, kid. Zavyr's focus on her dragon over A'lira at least has Vosji relaxing some. They're only somewhat stupid. The dragons are still coming before each other. Good. "B'ram will help you reorganize your things. Is there anything else you'd like to say, before I send you back to your learning?"

Kyprioth flops over to his rider, keeping a bit of a berth betwixt himself and the outraged blue. Whining softly, ne noses at A'lira's leg like hey. Down here. Scritches are nice and wanted. Obediently, A'lira begins scritching, frowning down at the brown head upturned to him. The speed and tone of the dragon's eyes slow as some communication moves back and forth between them — and then the young rider looks up, and nods politely. "No no ma'am. Except — " He hesitates, plainly torn. "Perhaps we should… settle them fully? Don't want to… make him concentrate on lessons, after this. He still worried, a little."

Zavyr doesn't, actually, have any 'things', except a staff, belt, pouch and its contents, two knives and a wire that's back around her ankle. And the Weyr-issued uniform and boots. "No need, ma'am. I've naught to move." She doesn't look over at A'lira, now. Merely stands next to Nynnth, her own eyes half-lidded in some private communication between herself and the blue…Who is distracted by the Weyrlingmaster dragon's…Items.

"Yes," Vosji agrees with a soft smile, "of course, which certainly counts as learning at this stage — learning your bond is what we want you to be learning, more than anything else. Take some alone time with your dragons, and when everyone meets up later for basic hide care you'll both be along for that lesson. Sitting as far away from each other as you can manage." The weyrlingstaff are watching you. Seriously. Don't step out of turn. Iskanzivoth is only able to offer a mental neck-nose for Kyprioth, since he can't reach inside the barracks, but … consider it done. And those rocks are a promise for later, Nynnth. "You're both dismissed. Feed your lifemates in your own spaces, take some time to … calm down."