Sesa, Nasrin, En'rys


The proverbial vultures circled the senior weyrlings.



It is evening of the tenth day of the second month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Feeding Grounds

OOC Date 31 May 2018 04:00


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"Are your ears burning? Or arms and scalp perhaps?"


Feeding Grounds

Here thar be pens, in a variety of shapes and sizes fit for all manner of beastie. The largest pens are those housing plump herdbeast for human or draconic consumption. A few of the smaller pens are unoccupied, though there are remnants of their former occupants still evident on ground and fence. The actual pens themselves are made solidly constructed, proof of Igen's resilience in improvements. In each pen there are troughs for feed and water, and they appear again by the stableside.

The pens, this late day of no frost, is an unofficial scouting grounds for no fewer than three of Igen's wings. There was a green flight earlier on which lead to those who didn't chase or win, to linger and Talk Weyrlings— after their lusts had dissipated. Nasrin is here only recently out hunting Rajakhelath. She stands slightly apart, neither intrusive nor antisocial, but is overcoming that tight throat and journey to a dragon's satiety.

Speaking of Weyrlings, one happens to be in the area. Sesa, and her blue Edleveth. Edleveth is nestled down, whirling eyes watching the animals in the pens whilst Sesa sketches him at it. She's focused, and tense, whether that be from earlier events or just that she's really trying to get the wing spars right, she seems a bit…out of sync with the world around her. Nasrin isn't noted quite yet, but Sesa will get there.

Nasrin could be thinking of a dozen places she'd rather be, but observing Rajakhelath eat is another opportunity to notice the dragon's form and condition, how much she truly eats, and makes herself known to the herders who made need to review herd status. Both hands on the railing, the junior tries to think of the bellows and snorts of the prey animals as a response to the light snowfall and not the demise of some of their number. In businesslike fashion, Rajakhelath makes a kill quick but is reluctant to release it from her mouth just yet. The queen's got her sights on Sesa. Nasrin, trying to see around her dragon, questions her lag.

But wait, there's more! En'rys, too, has wandered out, post-Fall, post-Score, post… everything. Somewhere near the pens crouches Briamiorth, sulking that she is not yet cleared to fly, though her score is but a mere dark spot on the wing — 'twas her antics that led her bondmate to ban flight for that much longer, lest she set herself back; and, more importantly, to encourage patience and listening, the impatient child. Slowly, he wanders along the fence, weaving through the small knots talking here and there, until he fetches up near Sesa, catching sight of her sketching pen.

Sesa may be focused, zoned in, but anything coming up right next to her is going to catch her attention. And almost immediately without looking she notices who it is. "Hello brother." She remarks, hand still moving over her sketch despite the light snowfall. "Out for a walk?" Eyes flick upward to narrow at Edleveth, trying to sort out some detail or another. It is the blue that notices the Queen nearby, his inky head lifting to turn whirling eyes in her direction. « Greetings Golden lady, creature of sunlit hide, beauty, even the snow becomes you! » Sesa has to stop herself from laughing and rolling her eyes at her poetic blue, ever the romantic gentleman.

"Focus." The instruction falls quick and quiet like a scythe over wheat. Nasrin's impatience is a calm fog of self-retreat. « It's not every day I watch fingers make images of lines. » Puzzled, the junior walks along the coarse fenceline until she can see what Rajakhelath sees. As one of Sirocco's wingseconds starts a tangent on pregnancy in fighting wings (about as frenzied as politics or religion), Nas extracts herself from earshot. It takes her some time to travel more of the fence's circumference to catch up to Sesa and En'rys. "Are your ears burning? Or arms and scalp perhaps?" With a scarf thick around her neck, it almost hides a hairline smirk. « I can tell you are of Wendryth's loins, dear blue. » Rajakhelath borrows a human term and partially spits out the fallen herdbeast, inviting Edleveth to share her meal.

"Hello, sister." Hello muddah. Hello faddah. And so on. En'rys turns his head as a brief brush of Briamiorth's mind against his, questioning. And then his gaze settles on Rajakhelath, brows arching in wry amusement. How undignified for a queen! But he will say nothing of the sort, for it would be unforgivably rude of him to speak so aloud. Instead, he'll answer Sesa's question. "Mhm. Anything but sitting in the infirmary." He peers about, looking for Nasrin: has she decided not to stand by her queen just now? And then she pops right up! Oh hai thar. "Um. I suppose they ought to be, by now. We're under the microscope, for certain." He's just going to ignore the pontification over there.

Blinking, Sesa looks up at Nasrin's greeting, a sharp salute given after she moves her sketching utensil from her hand. Wouldn't do to lose an eye now. "Should they be?" She says in tandem to her brother's reply, an eyebrow quirking up in question. Edleveth is more than happy to share a meal! More than happy. Ink drips into the blank canvas of his mind, spreading as if dropped in water, blue and black tendrils creeping out to form a picture near as masterful as the sketch in Sesa's hands, a feast laid out for dining, a wild boar skittering across the ground, a dragon devouring it's kill. Yup. He's definitely hungry. «Many thanks dear lady.» He says of the food, for you don't turn down a Queen's invitation to dine. Right? Right.

Rajakhelath has her moments of carnage and callousness, less noble attributes for her station in life. But she's being generous, En'rys, spare a kind word. "…more males on green…" someone from the peanut gallery says strongly, and Nasrin looks immediately to En'rys for his reception of that comment. "Time is drawing short, that's true, as they discuss your class like a herd of broodstock. I can't quite identify with the uncertainty of getting sorted to a wing for mine was only one choice. But," she drags a thumbnail over the tips of some other nails. "I do know what it's like to have every decision and step probed." In that much they can commiserate, Nasrin adopting a slow inhale. "Any inklings on where you'll be recruited?"

"We're all under the eye of the entire Weyr." En'rys points out, all too helpfully. "Haven't you noticed?" Oh, wait: ere he teases his sister further, he ought to present Nasrin with a proper salute, and it's done, fingers angled briefly over brow, and all. He has learned it behooves him to do these things, lest the prickly ranker-types lose their minds over it. Briamiorth curls her tail round her feet as she crouches, turning a lambent gaze on the herdbeasts milling about. Oh, how she'd like to give chase — but there are others in there now; she cannot hunt properly, lest so many bodies crowd her predations. Indeed, the queen is a generous lady! What. En'rys will eye Nasrin right back, amused and uninterested in someone with sour grapes. He's got his perfect dragonmate. "That much I'm used to." Prodding, probing, questioning: all are things the Weyrbred children grow up learning how to handle. "I'm hoping for Arroyo."

Sesa shrugs, and nods. "Aye, we are, but there's no sense in worrying over it, it's not going to change the fact that they talk about us like broodstock, or that they are nitpicking who to tap and who not to tap. It's maddening just to list out, let alone think about." Sesa smiles at Nasrin. "Though the commiseration is definitely appreciated Ma'am." Now that Edleveth is munching, and there is conversation to be had, Sesa just holds her sketchpad and continues talking. "I have my hopes, but I don't want to spoil my luck by listing them out loud yet. I'm just trying to do my best." And still recouping from that score to the upper arm. She didn't lose any function, and it's near healed, but she is still a bit stiff and sore.

Nasrin bends at the neck to recognize the weyrlings' salutes. "I think Wingleader Zaria would appreciate that," she responds to En'rys's preference with a slow sympathetic reaction to the wing's recent rash of bad fortune. Having cornered and taken another herdbeast into her mouth, Rajakhelath starts to rend it with her mouth. As the yanks and pulls seem to stretch her own tendons, Nasrin floods her mind with the good graces of graduation. "You're soon to have the full freedoms and graces of any rider, that's progress well earned. And," with a nod to the injured of this class, "you know the pitfalls, too." A moment, and she segues with a quirked eye and head tilt. "You really are siblings?"

"We really are!" En'rys will nod agreeably to Nasrin's question, and a little shrug for what Zaria might enjoy; secretly, he hopes she comes to think of this weyrling of one for her wing. In the meantime, though, Briamiorth has decided that they simplymust stroll on. With another little salute, he's off, followin after his lady.

Sesa almost echo's En'rys' words, grinning at her brother when the words are out. "Half siblings, but siblings nonetheless." She turns that grin on Nasrin and chuckles. Sesa nods at the goldrider's last, her expression becoming a bit more serious. "Aye, we know a bit of them now. I'm sure we still have plenty of learning to do despite graduating." Not that Sesa minds that at all.

"Clear skies, weyrling," Nasrin's voice trails after En'rys like the vapor wisp from her breath. "Your parents must— " Nasrin rethinks how forsaken her parents felt when their two children became dragonriders, and lets the original expression of thankfulness die on the proverbial vine. She'll spare them both any embarrassment. " —that's really quite a feat for a family." It's an okay cover up as she checks in with Rajakhelath who's gnawing on a hoof, but sated and able to move on. "Well, we meet again, it's a small Weyr, right?" She stretches each sleeve down to steel her skin against a wind coming off the Central Mountains. Taking some steps back, "see you at graduation at the very least!"

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