Who

N'iel, R'sk and Kismaraeth, Amani and Zymuraith, Ana and Lochanth, Th'res and Jedameth, N'ox and Tozkoth, F'kan and Quaverilth

What

The weyrlings' first firestone lesson proves to be anything but boring (for most of them).

When

It is midmorning of the tenth day of the second month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Training Grounds, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 03 Oct 2017 06:00

 

n-iel_default.jpg r-sk_default.jpg kismaraeth_default.jpg amani_default.jpg zymuraith_default.jpg ana_default.jpg lochanth_default.jpg
therst_default.jpg jedameth_default.jpg n-ox_default.jpg tozkoth_default.jpg f-kan_default.jpg

"Smell that?"


training_grounds.jpg

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.


Mid-morning, and N'iel has brought out a small group of weyrlings for that terribly fun lesson about sorting firestone. Yaaaay! But you're dragonriders now, so you have to learn it! The man stands out in the bright sunshine, in a loose linen shirt and shorts, a broad-brimmed straw hat keeping the worst of the sun off his head and shoulders. What a look! Thoughtfully, he's also got a stack of waterskins with him, too. The main focus of the lesson though will be the two wheelbarrows of what, at first glance, looks like rock. Closer inspection (and no doubt the distinctive smell) will soon make it clear that this is firestone, unless one has lived completely under a rock(!) The weyrlingmaster fiddles with one of the numerous bags in their own stack, but straightens as he sees the weyrlings coming towards him.

"Don't eat it. No. Didn't you hear me…" R'sk has corralled his green and is using his foot to nudge her face away from something on the ground. Is it firestone? Unlikely if they're in piles and in wheelbarrows. However, there's a lovely looking rock that looks like it'd serve as a modern day carpet staple. "Dammit, Kis. DO NOT EAT." He smacks her on the nose with the flat of his hand, realizes a lull has happened and looks up. What? Oh right, they're supposed to move forward. Kismaraeth wanders the opposite direction and R'sk huffs. Give him a moment. He'll be back of the class, all right.

Amani has caught whiffs of firestone before, to be sure; it's a bit unavoidable at a Weyr. But today, as she ventures out onto the training grounds with her ever-growing golden lifemate at her side, she can tell there's a lot more going on than whiffing. Once they're out there in front of N'iel, a salute rendered, both the dark-eyed girl's eyes and nose can't help but turn toward those wheelbarrows. The scent is concentrated enough that her body is trying to decide how to react, and she fervently hopes her stomach isn't going to end up speaking louder than her head. Zymuraith sniffs as well but sees no problem - or potential problem - with what lies before them. Both halves of the pair will sit attentively for the moment, though Amani can practically feel the impending questions looming near the front of her lifemate's bonfire-lit mind.

Ana has lived under a rock since moving to the Weyr. Before that it was under a thumb, so 'under a rock' is an improvement. She makes a show of hustling along with the other weyrlings, but in truth, she is exhausted. It takes an awful lot of concentration to put one foot in front of the other and she blears along in the gaggle of weyrlings, stopping belatedly when the person in front of her stops. OOMPH. "Sorry," she mumbles. The admonition of 'don't eat it' sends a jolt of adrenaline through her and she startles to wakefulness to a suspiciously still and innocent looking Lochanth sitting quietly at her side. As quiet as he ever is, he's warbling quietly, draconic equivalent of whistling. Ana blinks owlishly at Lochanth, suspicious, but trying to turn her attention to the lesson at hand. Lochanth did, in fact, eat a small hunk of firestone. Notably down the wrong gullet and painfully passed. The blue's nostrils flare and he stretches his head towards the wheelbarrows, warbling quizzically. AAAahhhh, deciduous draconic memory.

Jedameth as always is excited, though he isn't fully bringing that colorful mind to bear on the others as he and Th'res have been working to keep it localized. There are plenty of questions but now is time to listen and learn and make notes. He will move to sit where he can see the wheeled containers of the stuff that smells like his bonded's old clothes, because really you can't get the firestone smell out after working with it for turns. Th'res on the other hand looks at ease with the smell, as for the first time since the impression this is the most familiar thing he has been around. Snapping a crisp salute to N'iel he stands next to Jedameth, putting a hand on the blues shoulder lightly pating it.

Properly straightened, N'iel returns salutes thrown his way with a crisp one of his own. His focus shifts to R'sk as the man deals with his wayward green, but they'll be back with the class soon enough, in his experience. Back to the group as a whole, then! "Smell that? For those of you who don't know, it's firestone." He pauses, smiling, and then adds, "but don't get too excited - your dragons aren't eating it just yet. Today you'll be learning how to determine the different grades, and find out what their individual uses are." All in the name of learning of course, and not also because the weyrlings can then become handy firestone packers, nope! "Has anyone worked with firestone before?" He asks, looking over the bunch of them expectantly.

R'sk returns just in time to hear, "… it's firestone." Harper born, his lessons carry him well here, though his expertise lie in the stringed instrument and the once sweet-sound of his voice. Changed now, with puberty and growth into a man. Kismaraeth lunges, wings flapping — does she hit a neighbor? — before R'sk corrals her back. Her tail lashes. She wants it. Wannnnnnnts it. Her eyes whirl bright and curious and mischievous, delivery of a warble to her siblings in earnestness. Hunching, crouching, her haunches wiggle. "Stoppit," R'sk hisses through clenched teeth. He's paying attention. Really. Promise. He doesn't raise his hand for it would be untruth, but his attention lies divided. Dark eyes hold desperate on N'iel, struggling through Kismaraeth's distractions. Doot, doot, doot. He then eyes askance his fellow weyrlings, rubbing the side of his jaw while studiously ignoring whatever litany of bad ideas his green delivers through the mind link.

Amani shakes her head with a, "No, sir," added almost belatedly. At least the words come out at all; with the work she and Zymuraith have been doing on mental-only communication and restricting the "loudness" of her mindscape, sometimes Amani doesn't realize when words haven't made it past her tongue. The gold weyrling glances aside at R'sk and his rambunctious green, a sympathetic tilt of her lips given. Zymuraith swings her head around to blink at Kismaraeth, uttering a contralto rumble as she addresses her overeager sister with the glow of white fire fading to a scene of odd serenity - past the heavy flaps of an expansive black and white tent, dust motes swirl within slants of warm sunlight through a tall forest impossibly contained within. « What makes you so restless for this, Kismaraeth? If you're still and watch, you'll learn where best to pounce, after all. »

Ana belatedly salutes. There's a weyrlingmaster here. When did that happen? She straightens to listen and refrains from raising her hand. The scent of firestone is one she's known since birth and it raises uneasy pangs in her gut. She shifts closer to Lochanth and he turns from his sniffing to look up at her with a querulous chirrup. He nudges at her leg and she clears her throat and straightens to make an attempt at paying attention. It isn't long before her eyes are drifting in dozing slew and more than one suspicious jerk of wakefulness coming upon her of a sudden.

Jedameth is nothing but a ball of barely contained happy energy that seeps out in dazzling displays of lights and oddly built shapes, he wants to play and the fact there is another that is just as excited as he is isn't helping the self control he is practicing. Th'res will raises his hand in acknowledgement to the question if anyone has worked with firestone before, but can't seem to find words as he is currently helping Jedameth keep his minded focused on the lesson.

Tozkoth is eyeballing that firestone mighty curiously, as his jaws casually chew whatever it is that's stuck between his teeth today. Probably another large splinter of wood. Oh, what a group of wonderful misfits these weyrlings be. N'ox snaps off a salute with the rest for N'iel; he's probably worked with firestone before, a bit, having grown up at a weyr, but of course this is like next-level stuff. He'll nod his head. He's worked with it before!

F'kan saunters in, late for the lesson, his Quaverilth already snoozing in the Training grounds, half-listening to the lessons he has already been through. The brownrider comes up on the group and stands irritably in the back, throwing a half-hearted salute at the weyrlingmaster before crossing his arms over his chest and listening to the lesson.

Okay, not bad. There aren't too many blank looks. Though one weyrling does seem to be nodding off. Is he that boring already? Eh. N'iel alternates between looking over the group, and focusing on Ana to make sure she's not sagging again. "Good. You were a miner, Th'res, before, so this may not be brand new to you, but you'll be looking at it with a rider's eyes today." Right then! He's prepared three rocks at the top already, and picks up the first, which is almost indiscernable from a stone just lying around the training grounds. "This is low grade firestone." He holds it out to R'sk first. "Feel how heavy it is. If you look, it's mostly rock, with very little of the ore that makes firestone useable by dragons. Pass it around so you can all get an idea of it." He leans against the nearest wheelbarrow. "You'll get familier with this type of firestone better later on - you'll be using it when your dragons learn to flame." Though he does give Amani a little look and nod to acknowledge she's the exception here. F'kan gets a glance as he joins them, before N'iel looks back over the class to make sure the chunk of stone is making its way round them all to have a look.

R'sk manages a crooked smile that also seems to be self-induced reassurance when Amani looks his way. Kismaraeth ignores everyone, hyper-focused on the THING she wants. That is until her lids lower and she takes on a sultry, lazy air. She stretches one paw out and touches a rock. That's it. Boop. One boop. Kismaraeth's mind is cloaked in shadows, though a winding yowl penetrates along with milk-teeth precision of emotion. Claws jab the soul, but it's rambunctious rather than malicious. Words fail, but here we are, standing on the rickety edge and R'sk is desperately trying to push past his distractions. Firestone, firestone, firestone. He straightens, lean form angled forward. He'll learn; he excelled in the Hall. Determination lights dark, velvet eyes. For the moment, his emotions are bundled up within, his meta world etched in physical: intensity of attention, casual run of his fingers through hair he's brushed back out of his eyes, and a steel-grit muscle pushed against the flesh of his jaw. When the stone gets into his hands, he takes it and rubs his fingers across it. His hands are a blend of soft and rough, texturing at the cause of his new lot in life though the instrument callouses still exist.

Ana's chin dips, eyes slowly closing. There will be even MORE extra lessons. Lochanch, co-consipirator, sidles up to her, bracing with wrap of tail and curve of neck to keep her upright. Dreams come quickly, crowded dormitories and the stench of firestone on workclothes. Darkness.

When it's Nox's turn for the firestone, he makes the mistake of offering it to Tozkoth to sniff. The dragon unleashes his tongue with apparently razor-sharp precision and frog-like pulls it back into his mouth. Is that canon or cartoon? Not sure. Either way, N'ox is left standing there with an empty open palm and a confused look on his face as his dragon SWALLOWS THE FIRESTONE. "Um." Hand goes up. "Sir?" Tozkoth belches out the side of his mouth.

F'kan waves the chunk off as it's passed around, he is well versed in firestone. He sighs heavily from the back, rolling his eyes, muttering rather uncharitable stuff under his breath. As one of the bronze weyrlings decides to take it upon themselves to spice up this class, F'kan straightens up a bit, his old smirk on his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

N'iel's jaw opens, then closes. How did he not foresee this happening with Tozkoth, eater of all the things? "We shouldn't have to worry about him breathing any flame," the weyrlingmaster says reassuringly, though he's straightened up from his lean and is attentive, though not panicked. "Can you ask him to try and feel where it is inside him, N'ox?" Since if it's stuck in the bronze's gullet somewhere, that's gonna be fun.

Zymuraith snorts softly in amusement at Kismaraeth's anticlimactic conclusion to all that wriggling and hyperfocus, swinging her head back around to observe N'iel alongside Amani. The dark-eyed girl gives a nod of acknowledgment back to N'iel, her gaze momentarily following F'kan before she's back to focusing on the firestone getting passed their way. Her nose wrinkles reflexively as the odor becomes stronger, and she turns the chunk over in her hands, examining it…until Zymuraith lowers her nose and gives gentle huff, sitting back on her haunches expectantly thereafter, forepaws lifted off the ground. Amani presently looks extremely amused and curious, and holds the rock out toward her lifemate. Zymuraith takes it in a her talons, inspecting it in much the same manner as Amani just did, though her tongue flicks out as though to taste the air around it. Amani blinks at an internal question, blurting, "No you may not-" And then their mutual attention swings to N'ox and Tozkoth. The young queen rumbles pointedly, entering the bronze's mind with a pronounced flare of sparking white flames, admonishing. « Tozkoth! You don't even know how to swallow it! »

"Um," N'ox closes his eyes to better connect to his dragon's oceanic mindlink. An empty and vividly coloured coral reef is suddenly shared with the class, which switches shapes into a curious digestive tract with a fish swimming down it - a piece of coral is lodged. The curly-haired lad opens his eyes and sighs. "I should reach in and get it then? It might be stuck. Open it, mate." Tozkoth belches again and opens his mouth - at least he's agreeable. N'ox reaches in, doing the thing that's almost second-nature by now when his dragon swallows things he shouldn't, and pulls it out, with a lot of gross squelching sounds. He holds it out for N'iel, then pauses, perhaps reconsidering this decision, that he might not want it back. « There's another way to swallow it? » Tozkoth chooses a blue lobster to answer the white flames of Zymuraith.

R'sk stares at N'ox and Tozkoth. And looks at Kismaraeth, thanking his lucky stars that the green has sprawled on her back. Not eating firestone. A thrumming purr echoes through the lushness of velveteen night. It's the promise of what's to come — Forest primordial. Yet for now, it is kittenish claws that rake the minds around her that showcases her presence. « Is it delicious? » Her words are soft and sweet — youthful pitched and trilling with high-notes. A deeper promise holds sway but for now, childlike curiosity masks blooming maturity. Curiosity and mischievousness.

Roxeauth is listening in mentally, of course, and through her N'iel gets the - er - picture of what's going on inside Tozkoth. N'ox is on it though, and N'iel watches calmly as the weyrling retrieves the item. at least it's in one piece, unlike all those paddles, right? "Ah - thank you, N'ox." He will take it, though this piece of stone is not going back round the class. Nope, it's going on the ground under the wheelbarrow it came from. N'iel will deal with that later. After wiping baby dragon saliva off onto his shorts, he reaches into the wheelbarrow for the second lump. "Now, please don't let your dragons eat this one. We're getting to the more serious stuff, now." Though his tone is light, he gives N'ox a significant look. R'sk's green has calmed down at least, and the other dragons haven't yet shown any sign of trying to get a taste. "This is a lighter rock, with more ore in it - can you tell the group the grade of this one and the flame it will produce, F'kan?"

Quaverilth unlids one eyes to look at the younglings as they have their lesson. A rumble deep in his throat, his own kind of laughter, as he starts to watch the lesson intently. F'kan chuckles as N'ox has to reach down his bronze's gullet. And then he hears his name, turning his attention back to N'iel and looking at the piece. With his arrogant smirk, he answers with confidence, "That is medium grade, and it produces a small, sustained flame."

Amani retrieves the chunk of firestone from Zymuraith's grasp while the young queen focuses upon her bronze brother. Still the bonfire flares, though a shade less intensely, shadows dancing beneath the cauldron that contains it and between the looming forms of black and white tents, subtle murmurations of hushed voices wafting about. A black kitten makes a momentary appearance, bounding out to give Tozkoth's blue lobster a swat on the carapace before darting lightining-quick back through a closed tent flap. « Yes. So pay attention and don't try to eat anymore before you hurt yourself, » she tells Tozkoth matter-of-factly before looking forward again alongside Amani. The girl herself has been watching N'ox remove what his dragon swallowed with a sort of semi-disgusted fascination, dark eyes somewhat wide as they regard N'ox before facing front once more. It takes a good deal of effort to not roll her eyes at the smirk F'kan displays, but she'll take his anwer to memory nonetheless, peering at the chunk of medium-grade rock to see if there's much of a noticeable difference from the previous sample.

As Kismaraeth falls into a lethargic doze, R'sk's eyes brighten, sharpening. Interest swells within his expression and when it is his turn to take the stone, he does so. Each instruction given is categorized and filed away. Standing there, he passes it along and rakes his hands through his dark hair once more. Streaks of firestone dust are left in imprint.

Personal feelings towards F'kan kept professionally aside, N'iel will give credit where credit is due. "Very good," he tells the mature weyrling, before handing this chunk of stone to Th'res, first, this time. Hopefully Jedameth doesn't have an empty stomach that wants filling with firestone! "So you can feel this one isn't as heavy as the last, and you can see more of that ore in it. Get a good look at it from all angles." He's already reaching for the last of his example pieces of stone.

Jedameth has taken to watching and learning right now, even his explosively expressive mind is focused on what is going on. To Tozkoth mirthful yellow faces are seen chomping on glowing orbs of light « You need to chew it better that way you don't choke. » Turning his odd shaped head towards the remaining firestone there is a curious sniff but the impulse to chew things luckily hasn't landed in his mind. Th'res is busy helping explain the differences between the two stones to the pair of weyrlings who just barely had time to learn there studies properly during candidacy.

Ana startles awake and salutes reflexively. She blinks and lowers her hand. Maybe no one noticed that she dozed off. She pieces together what she can of Lochanth's attempt to fill her in. White flame. Blue lobster. Yellow faces. Eating firestone. Delicious. Ana's eyes narrow suspiciously at Lochanth. She is suspicious of the 'eating' bit — having been put VERY straight about when that would happen in their training, but she only puts her hand out to scratch at his eyeridges and try to unobtrusively attend the lesson. Maybe Weyrlingmaster N'iel didn't notice.

Smugness, thy name is F'kan. Yeah, that's right. He knows his shit. If a dragon could roll his eyes, Quaverilth's would be in the back of his head right now, as it is, he gives a little huff at his lifemate and reminds him on a tight band, that he is the reason they have to do this, again. And the smirk suddenly leaves F'kan's face as he takes up brooding again.

N'ox belatedly thankfully doesn't say you're welcome to the assistant weyrlingmaser as he hands off the slimy stone, but rather nods politely and keeps a closer watch on his dragon as they listen with the rest of the class. His expression is one of interest, eyebrows up - innocence personified, don't mind the flush in his cheeks. The young bronze belches once more - that's three times, he should be good for a bit. « Not delicious, mate. » The bronze sends to curious Kismaraeth. « Forgot to taste really… » He glances up at N'ox curiously, who is really his boss in all of this, above his clutchsiblings Zymuraith and Jedameth, who are looking out for him with their advice. "No." The teenage weyrling is trying not to laugh. He looks over each stone that's passed by in turn.

How did it happen? Did anyone see? One minute, Kismaraeth is sleeping — dozing, really — with her inner eyelids closed and outer ones slit. The next, she's up and moving like hell on wheels. She pounces a small round thing — firestone? rock? — and it shoots off, nearly decapitating some poor fool wandering close. It tumbles and bounces, and R'sk's last words are, "Faranth be damned." And then he is off, chasing after Kismaraeth. It will be a while until the green wears herself out. He will have to do a remedial lesson later — another time. Being a weyrling is hard. And that's R'sk, exiting stage left with a boom.

And finally, the final piece! "And this," N'iel states, holding the rock aloft, "is the high grade stuff. As you can see, it's the lightest in colour, as it's mostly ore. It's also the lightest in weight - but it produces the strongest, longest flame. You won't be playing with this until your dragons are much older." He pauses, considering passing it round, then apparently changes his mind. Once the medium grade chunk is back in his hands, and not in a dragon's stomach, he starts handing out bags, one each. "Right, Th'res, R'sk, and Amani to this wheelbarrow please; N'ox, F'kan, and Ana to the other. You'll be sorting the stones into bags. Red label is low grade; yellow medium; green is high." The weyrlings will find each trio has one bag of each colour. "Put the biggest rocks at the bottom, and don't overfill the bags!" N'iel will be keeping a close eye on them as they practise, to make sure there's no funny business. And also to give pointers, of course!

« It's more than just the chewing, » Zymuraith amends to Jedameth's assertion, but doesn't elaborate further in what Amani is coming to recognize as her usual cryptic manner. The young gold withdraws the intensity of her focus from Tozkoth's mind but remains a presence at the edge of all, a subtle wafting of caramel and bonfire smoke sent Quaverilth's way in belated greeting. He is different from the rest, but among them now, all the same, and so she is getting used to including. She is not quick enough - yet - to catch the sudden ball of veridian speed that is Kismaraeth on her way out and huffs a sigh, sitting back on her haunches again as she returns her attention to the lesson. Amani takes the chunk of firestone in her turn, letting Zymuraith inspect it as before…and then comes the bag and the order to head to a barrow. Except R'sk is gone. She looks to Th'res with a lift of dark brows. "Guess it's just you and me!"

Once bags are handed out and his team is minus one but that is fine, Th'res says to Amani, "Not a problem, you take the green bags, and I will start with the red." The miner turned rider will head over to the wheel barrow and start to pull the heavier more dense rocks out first as this is old hat to the young man. Jedameth on the other hand has found something new to distract himself with, he is currently laying down using his tail to flatten the ground near him before he makes small mounds of dirt like he is trying to build something but just can't find the right way to do it.

With an exagerated sigh, F'kan drags his feet over to the wheelbarrow to which he has been assigned. Sorting firestone? Really? This is what he has been reduced to? It's bad enough that he and Quaverilth have to crowd into their couch in the weyrling barracks, he now has to do such menial tasks. His grump is strong as he immediately gets to work, grabbing the green bag and quickly picking out the highest grade and making a pile of it on the ground next to him, sorting the bigger pieces from the smaller ones.

N'ox get to work quietly, not talking much, just making sure Tozkoth doesn't eat any more rocks. He hasn't said much to F'kan at all since he was brought to the barracks, and doesn't say much now, although he will send Ana a half-hearted smile. ISN'T THIS FUN? Except for not really. He'll try to make it a bit more interesting tho, balancing rocks on his person before dropping them into bags.

"Give yourself the easy job, why don't you?" Amani teases as she gets to work with her green-labelled bag. It's easy to tell what's heavy, but the difference between medium and high isn't quite as easy to discern by weight alone. She does her best to inspect for ore content, taking care and therefore more time than Th'res likely will. In the meantime, Zymuraith takes interest in watching everyone at their sorting, ambling around the barrows and the weyrlings attending them. At one point, however, she pauses by Th'res and Amani's barrow and briefly flicks her tongue out, actually tasting a chunk of stone. "Zymuraith!" Amani exclaims, pausing to stare at her lifemate in consternation. The queen warbles, not indignantly, but with a definite air of practicality being offended. « I'm not going to eat it! I just want to see if the difference is something I can taste; it might be helpful. » With a huff, Amani sets her bag down for a moment and closes the distance between her and her dragon, expression stern as she holds Zymuraith's head in both hands to focus on her eyes, the internal exchange obvious.

N'iel is going to ignore F'kan's behaviour for now. It's not being disruptive at least, so that's a relief. "Good work," he'll say to Th'res as he has a look over what the former miner is doing. For Amani, with her gold's tongue examining a piece of stone, the man looks alarmed for a moment. But the gold doesn't eat the stone, so he's not at full blown panic. He'll say nothing for the girl's way of getting the message across to her dragon - whatever works for them - but passes them by to go have a look at the other group. "See the way you can tell there's more ore in it?" He tells Ana and N'ox, picking out one of the pieces F'kan has selected and turning it this way and that for them to see. "Remember you can help one another to figure out the trickier pieces." His path will continue to bring him in the middle of the two groups, keeping a watchful eye to make sure no firestone goes missing."

Once he's got a sizeable pile of bigger pieces, F'kan starts to fill the bag with them. No, he's not being disruptive, but he is not being enthusiastic either. Rather than act like the 19 turn-old he is, he has regressed to a child being told to do their chores full of huffing and puffing, ignoring those 'lings he's working with as sure as they have been ignoring him. That's fine. He's just there to keep his head down and get through this punishment, besides, his kind of making friends isn't acceptable at the moment.

Ana slinks after her sorting partners, watching them for cues about what to do and trying to piece together N'iel's lecture from dream fugue snippiets. She growls at F'kan, "Was it worth it?" Ana's voice is as gravelly as the 'stone they're sorting. She flashes a look across at N'ox and then at F'kan. She squints at the experienced 'weyrling' and tries to follow what he's doing. She might as well take advantage of his experience, right?

Th'res chuckles and shakes his head at Amani, his reply is lost as he looks up from his sorting duties to see it is just him. He will glance at the golden pair before looking over to his blue who is fake sleeping on the dirt. It is easy to tell he is not really asleep as his mind starts passing pictures of what the others are doing. The freeze frame of Zymuraith with her tongue out gets projected to anyone near by with happy glowing colors and shapes that have yet to befully defined.

It's a long moment before Amani steps back from Zymuraith, the young gold's eyes whirling amber. There's soft rumble, however, as Amani still gives the shimmering nose a rub despite the scolding. Then she's back to work, Zymuraith resuming her inspecting circuit around the weyrlings and barrows…but with no further attempts at tasting. The growl from over in the direction of the other wheelbarrow draws Amani's attention. She didn't hear the words, but she can read Ana's demeanor well enough. Half an ear is kept open in that direction, the back of her neck prickling with the potential for conflict that she's really hoping doesn't escalate too much, unimpressed with F'kan's behavior though she may be. There's more to making friends (or "friends") than being pretty, though that's apparently beyond the brownrider…unsurprisingly.

F'kan is being adressed? Well this is new. But the words aren't very friendly at all. And it may be his short fuse already by having being demoted, but in an instant he snarls back with. "No, Xanthee was certainly not worth this." he says with a snort, as he turns back to his task at hand, now adding medium sized rocks of the highest quality to his sack, pointedly turning his back on Ana.

N'iel slides himself in to the beginnings of this spat between Ana and F'kan, though his focus is on the former of the two. "Ana," he says, quietly to her, though despite his best efforts to be discreet it's difficult not to be heard with the others so close by. "You'll be repeating the lesson with another class, tomorrow. Please try to get more sleep before then." Soft as his words are, the disappointment is there that she's missed enough of the beginning of the lesson to make this job harder for herself.

And that is how the fight almost started, there is a brief moment where Th'res wonders if the other blue riding weyrling is going to try to stuff F'kan into a sack. But with the Weyrlingmaster steping in all seems ok, Jedameth on the other hand seems to latch on to something N'iel said and asks in his bright colors and maybe even something that could be hearts « Can we do it again too? Or did Ana do something Awesome and she gets to do it again? » The young blue moving slightly from his spot to look more to see if Ana is doing something different than his bonded.

Ana stiffens at N'iel right suddenly very there. She schools the disapproving expression on her face of F'kan's response to her pointed query to stillness. Her cheeks heat at being called out, she wasn't as smooth as she'd hoped. Protest batters at her teeth, but she's looking blankly at the 'stone in her hand and only answers with a quiet, "Yes, Sir." After the weyrlingmaster moves off, she picks up the spat, happy to turn her frustration on F'kan. "Asshole." Ana says the word as if to herself, but it's entirely audible. "Are you going to be useful, at least?" Barbed. She snorts, the snort serving double duty of blasting the pungent firestone reek. Lochanth has wandered up to Quaverilth, little blue muzzle poked at muuuuch larger brown. « 'ey. » He's bowing up. It's sort of adorable, except, there's a flare of yellow in neon blue eyes.

Perhaps he has a nose for trouble? P'quil has arrived on the scene, the senior Weyrlingmaster now keeping a stern eye on the class. N'iel will remain, too, moving aside to speak quietly with P'quil. Both weyrlingmasters will stay to monitor things as the weyrlings continue packing firestone.

Kismaraeth - *My face is too pretty to mess up.

Quaverilth sniffs gently at the little blue that has wandered up to him, his mind sending out gentle waves lapping at the shore, « Hello. You are very tiny. » he says in greeting, his eyes whirling gently blue/gree with amusement. F'kan hides his smirk as the blueling gets told by the weyrlingmaster for sleeping during class. When she calls him that most uncharitable name, he just snorts and continues his packing, "Oh you need help now do you? Maybe you should have thought of that before you called me an asshole after falling asleep in class." He shrugs and sends a cheeky wink in Ana's direction.

Red dot starts floating on F'kan's back.

If circumstances were different, Amani would probably be right there next to Ana doing some growling of her own. All things considered, however…F'kan is worth far less than the well-being of her lifemate, and always will be. Zymuraith has stopped to sit at a midpoint between the wheelbarrows, watching the exchange between Ana and F'kan curiously…and concernedly, though only Amani is aware of that facet of it, given how outwardly placid the young queen looks at the moment save for the orange edging her gaze. Amani pauses to clear her throat a bit. "We've got an empty spot here, Ana. And a former miner," she offers, thumbing at Th'res. "He can obviously do it all himself." So why not leave F'kan by himself? Dark brows lift as though to silently add that fact.

Ana narrows her eyes, glaring at F'kan, "You might." Ana leans down and grabs one of the filled sacks by it's bottom corner and slowly straightens, dumping the lot of it out as she straightens, "Whoops." She gives him a look and moves off to the other cluster of her clutchmates. "F'kan, if you can sort faster than we can by yourself, we'll do your chores for a seven." Way to put everyone on the hook, Ana. Lochanth rears up on hindquarters and spreads the fanning branched breadth of wings. OH SO IMPRESSIVE. The thrum of a vibrant, growing city thrills electric through his thoughts, the gentle waves, dampen the challenging ire whickering through him from Ana, « Aye. So? »

"I am not here to take up silly bets. I am here because your little friend flipped her skirts at me and I was dumb enough to take her up on her offer. F'kan says under his breath as he starts to refill the sack which Ana dumped. Quaverilth snorts as the young blue tries to impress him with his wingspan. « Nothing, just stating the obvious. » he says with a mental rumble of laughter.

Such hating on a brown rider, Jedameth for all his clumsiness is rather fast when he wants to be. Shuffling of wings and clicking and popping of shoulder joints as he moves to between his clutch brother and the larger brown. Calming rays of blue-white lights will sooth out from Jed's mind, as there is that clicking and clacking of a picture being made « Hey Lochanth look at this isn't this AMESOME. » He shows that time he flew (but not really) off the book case. Th'res is doing what he does best right now and that is work.

Ana snorts, she doesn't catch all of F'kan's words, but it doesn't take a starcrafter to work it out. "Coward." The blueling cuts eyes at the wheelbarrow before her. "Let's make a game of it. Might as well have fun." She holds open the red sack and move a pace away holding it open. "I'll catch." And that way she doesn't have to actually identify the 'stone. Bonus! They have to practice throwing at some point. Nevermind that it's throwing sacked 'stone.

Amani would be relieved that Ana does come over to join them…except the blueling has to go and make that remark. Dark eyes are somewhat widened beneath furled brows as she watches the shorter girl start in alongside them. "Why would you say that?" she hisses under her breath as she shoves another chunk of high-grade (she hopes) into her sack. Being used as a bargaining chip (or part of one) is one of the myriad things about her old life that rub Amani absolutely wrong, so this from her classmate is highly unappreciated, enough that it elicits a soft hiss from Zymuraith that echoes the tone of her bonded's question. Fortunately it doesn't seem as though F'kan is interested in banking on it, so Amani ignores any asinine rejoinders from the brownrider and her classmate and continues her sorting, jaw clamped shut, until she finishes and steps away to wait with Zymuraith between the wheelbarrows, pretty features tensely pensive.

F'kan continues with his sacking of the high grade ore. He breathes a sigh of relief as the blueling moves off to do some sack tossing, not having to field inane comments and insults when all he wants to do is get this over with as quickly as possible. His brown settles back into a snooze as he sends off one more snarky comment to his rider about making his bed and laying in it.

And so the inaugural firestone lesson soon draws to a close, excitements and tensions all winding down as well beneath the vigilant gaze of the weyrlingstaff. Well. Perhaps not the tensions so much. What happens with those in the end remains to be seen!

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