Kyara, Majel; Dyxath, Liareth


Paying a social call to their self-defense students, Kyara and Liareth fuel one blueriding pair's simmering anticipation of flight and further exploration.


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


Weyrling Training Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Weyrling Training Grounds

Here, a wide and spacious field, devoid of all but more of the glare of ubiquitous, fine white sand of Igen: not even a blade of grass dares lift its head against centuries of clumsy draconic antics. To one side, ever-present firestone bins are set, kept supplied by many a hand, while agenothree tanks line the curving angle just outside the barracks, primed and ready for use. Very often, a glimpse of classes in session or dragonets at play may be caught under the open sky under the watchful eye of diligent Weyrlingmasters and older dragons.

Kyara has been around the weyrlings a fair amount as of late, helping with their physical training by being one of those teaching them self-defense as part of thier workout routine. Liareth has been keeping attentive watch as well, so it's not as if the green pair isn't familiar with the forty new dragons and soon-to-be-riders. However, the pretty green has decided that now is a good time to just visit the young ones for the sake of doing so, traipsing across the Bowl with her rider trotting along beside, smirking. Kyara has no objections, of course. She's just wondering why Lia's chosen now in particular, and why the insistence. At least she didn't decide to do it in the middle of the day.

As the skies purple into dusk and the temperature edges from hot and dry to slightly-cooler and dry, some of the weyrlings keep their stroll an easy one as they trickle back to the barracks after dinner. Majel, ever-prompt in most functions, is already seated somewhere outside the edge of the training grounds with Dyxath, back leaning against the closest patch of wall. Knees hugged to her chest, she's likely engaged in a silent conversation, pointing up at the sky every now and then with a half-smile or a little furrow of her brow where appropriate. The little blue, who nearly comes up to her shoulders by now, turns from their not-quite stargazing to rumble a most polite greeting as Liareth nears. "There's nothing like a … " Majel echoes aloud, surprised, then promptly gets to her feet to salute the green's rider. "Ma'am. Good evening."

By the time Majel and Dyxath come into view, Liareth is walking leisurely, ever-graceful steps nearly soundless as she circles around to draw near Dyxath with a croon to greet him in return. A gentle tendril of pale, warm steam insinuates itself carefully into the younger dragon's mind. « Hello, Dyxath, » comes her rich soprano. « What has your eye this evening? » she asks, having become rather aware of the growing blue's habit of close observation. Kyara salutes back and immediately waves Majel back to her previous position. "Good evening, weyrling," the greenrider replies as she draws near the wall. "As you were; it's fine." Smirking thoughtfully, she hops up to sit on the stone barrier. "Just a bit of down time for you?"

Dyxath cants his head upward again to aim a keen blue-green look at Liareth, then onward to the skies that are steadily swallowed into twilight. That warm steam is met by a not unsimilar roll of fog; when it clears, there's a comfortable sense of being settled, of watching a nocturnal view that stretches darkly into the vanishing point, lit only by faint lights that reflect upon the rain below. « Nothing in particular, ma'am, » is his sheepish, if gravelly reply. « Maybe everything. It just feels like a good night to watch, you know? » Like dragon, like weyrling; the glance Majel asides as she propels herself up to sit next to Kyara is equally sharp, if polite. "A bit, " she acknowledges. "We do like to practice seeing through one another's eyes before lights out. I think I'm done with the physical requirements for today between the running, your efficient class and putting one row of seams down half of a leather strip." There's a rueful half-smile. "It's certainly rougher on the arms than sewing muslin."

"'Efficient?'" Kyara chuckles a bit, letting one leg swing to knock a boot against the wall. "I'm glad you see it that way. I hope you're all getting some helpful things out of it. Other than just the exercise, that is." She nods approval for the seeing practice. "Just wait until you get to fly! That adds a whole new dimension to it. And the straps…yes. And the hands. Faranth, I stabbed myself with the awl so much at first." She holds her hands palm up, spots of slightly lighter skin on her thumbs a subtle indicator of what she means. Liareth settles onto her stomach next to the young blue with a content rumble, the steam of her baths mingling carefully with Dyxath's fog with relaxed heat. His might be one of her favorite minds out of the lot, those mists seeming so familiar. « Indeed, » she agrees, turning her own eyes skyward. « Sometimes, that is all that needs doing for the moment. »

"The art is admirable and terribly practical, " Majel says earnestly of those classes. "There's something to be appreciated in the form of what can be accomplished with an economy of movement, a minimalistic strike. I think I would have felt more comfortable working in the bazaar had I had some training like that when I was a kid. As it was, " and there's a shrug where she allows her silence to finish her sentence, crossing her ankles comfortably. "We look forward to flying." It's short, simple, but her eyes convey what her words and tone do not: They, like most others who have come before them, yearn for the day. "I thankfully haven't stabbed myself yet, " she adds, leaning over slightly to peer at the other's proffered hands, "but it's undoubtedly a matter of time. It's quite impossible for someone to never do so, after all." Dyxath adds a puff of earthy cigar smoke to curl thoughtfully into that place where steam and fog meet, silent but for a soft crackling as if from a distance. It's nice to meet someone who gets it.

Majel's observations about what Kyara is teaching them earn a pleasantly surprised raise of eyebrows from the greenrider. "I had a very good teacher," she murmurs, giving a quite sigh carrying hints of nostalgia and melancholy both. "I wish I could have learned all of what he knew, but there just wasn't time. He'd get such a laugh out of the fact that what he taught me is getting passed on like this." She grins at the eagerness for flight that shows in the weyrling's eyes, and she flexes her fingers, eying the tiny scars before setting them back in her lap. "Probably, but you'll probably do it less than most. If I remember rightly, you were a tailor in the Bazaar, weren't you?" Liareth is comfortably silent in that moment of mingling mists, the remote babble of fountains and subdued conversation within her baths whispering through the dimness of Dyxath's mindscape. « How much of our home have you been able to see now? » she questions. She can't remember her own time in weyrlinghood, really, save for the vague impression of joy to finally be out and around after a time.

Majel is an attentive and sharp-eyed listener, studying Kyara silently throughout the other's reminiscence. "It is an honorable way to pass on his knowledge and something of his memory with it, " she replies carefully, relieved enough to shed the emotional topic for a safer one. "I was, yes. Hopefully, it'll work in my favor and save me a few trips to the infirmary." And she'll never have to hire a tailor of her own. There's a moment where Dyxath pauses before floating an organized wisp of thought Liareth's way; it's similar to his, but brighter and carrying just the faintest impression of sharp mint. Majel. In its wake, the blue includes images of the places listed therein - there's a quick flash of the weyrling training area, a wet, rippling view of the lake, the uneven crevices that make up the sand on which they now rest, various views from different points in the northern half of the bowl. « And that's not even the half of it, she assures me. »

Kyara nods, smiling at Majel's first. After the affirmation of what the weyrling used to do, the greenrider looks over at her. "You'll always be amazed at the ways your previous life will help you out in this one," she observes. "A lot of them unexpected. It keeps life interesting. As if Impressing doesn't make it interesting already." Looking over at Dyxath, she smirks. "Is he getting any better at keeping his wings and his feet separated?" she asks with good humor, examining the baby blue's angular frame. Liareth, in the meantime, studies those images from Dyxath curiously before trying something similar, the blanket of steam hovering over her baths clearing somewhat to reveal different views reflected in the water of other places in the Weyr and outside of it. « She is correct, » the pretty green intones coolly. « Soon, there will be the air to consider as well. » A view of their home from above briefly coalesces before steam obscures all once more. « But that will come in time, of course. »

"Far more interesting than any of us could have negotiated for, " Majel agrees lightly, the corners of her mouth tugging upward as she, too, peers over at the dark, boxy blue. "He's improving. I'm not sure that he'll ever learn to be graceful about it, but he's learned to be careful and move a little more slowly to try to forestall any incidents." As if to prove a point, Dyxath holds his wings up and partially unfolds them before settling once more, tail curling gingerly about his feet. The views shared by the older dragon are suddenly brighter, as he adds a little illumination to better get a feel for all of the details that she'll provide. Three half-steps climb together somewhere in the background to burst into a brief major chord as the aerial image appears and vanishes. « It's something to keep in mind. » Yes, that's fascinating.

Grinning at Dyxath's little display, Kyara chuckles. "He'll probably surprise you there," she surmises. "Our clutch had a blue that ran into absolutely everything. It took a while, but eventually he got the hang of things, and seeing him fly, no one would have thought he was the same dragon. Dyxath," she says, turning her eyes to the little blue again, "may never not look gawky, and it might take a while for him to get past being clumsy, but I'd guess he'll be pretty impressive when he finally gets in the air." She opens her mouth as if to say more, but her eyes go suddenly vague as her lifemate relays a thing or two…and she laughs. "Ohhh, Lia likes talking to him," she says, amused, "and for good reason. His mind… The blues here have the most fascinating voices."

Majel's look for her own lifemate is at once measuring and speculative, but there's a quiet confidence in that subtle eyebrow-lift of hers. "I expect so." Having already been privy to some of Dyxath's end of the conversation, she has a small smile ready in response, fond. "He's certainly distinctive compared to the fainter echoes he sometimes shares with me of what others sound like. It's a bit odd to experience. But he likes talking to Liareth, too. She's lovely." Perhaps it's a sincere compliment from both, as the smaller dragon reflects the sentiment with all the politeness of a child telling a friend's older sister, 'gosh, you're really nice.' Swift on the heels of that thought comes a wavering, baritone hum, faintly hovering in the well-known cadence between a root and a fourth, a drowsy alternation. "Bedtime for little blues, " Majel announces aloud, reaching up to stifle a small yawn, herself, as she hops down from the wall, brushing carefully at her trousers. "It was nice talking with you and Liareth, ma'am, " she says sincerely. "See you in class." There's a salute, a little croon of farewell from Dyxath and the two begin trekking to the barracks, steps slow but steady.

Slipping from the wall as well, Kyara smiles as she watches Liareth whuffle lightly, almost proprietarily, and Dyxath, her croon of farewell quiet and melodic before she pads over to stand before her lifemate, blue eyes giving a slow blink as she looks down at Majel. "Thank you," the greenrider says, her chin ducking a little. "From her as well. Have a good evening, Majel. See you then." The pair watches Majel and Dyxath for a moment before Kyara reaches out to rub a nose drawn near. "Alright, Lia. Anyone else you want to to chat up?" And with that, they wander on.

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