Who

K'rev, Ginger

What

Discussion after a weyrling rope drill.

When

It is afternoon of the tenth day of the first month of the seventeenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 16 May 2019 04:00

 

/icon_defaults/spacer.png


beach.jpg

Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the seventieth day of Summer and 115 degrees. It is sunny and bright. White fluffy clouds drift lazily across the china blue sky.


Timor: moon6.jpg
Belior: moon8.jpg

On the beach, and more especially in the water, CatMint is cleaning up. It's rather harder work today than the usual dragon ablutions, as the weyrlings have just had their first rope drill - trying to flame painted strands of rope and suitable equivalents, that have been dipped in paint before being dropped from above by a team of helpers. That's a lot of rope - and a lot of paint, a significant amount of which is now on the hides of the inexperienced dragons. Almost everyone is trying to remove the evidence of missing at least one strand, which is hardly surprising as it's the first attempt. They will improve! Meanwhile, the droppers have of course also picked up their share of paint from the bundles they were carrying. Ginger and Shokravanth have been in charge of that group today, so the brown has streaks running down his sides from where the paint has dripped. He's hip-deep in the water, and Ginger is sitting on his back, scrubbing briskly.
The brown Mnaranth glides low over the water, K'rev, his rider seated between the last two neck ridges leans back ever so slightly as they slow down and drop closer to the warm sand. As the pair approach, it is possible to see several splotches of multi-paint coloring the young dragon's hide. Now they are just hovering, and Mnaranth barely has to back wing, allowing most of his speed to bleed off in their casual glide. The brown settles to the sand with barely a bump, and the rider straightens up in the straps. Mnaranth takes several more steps, just enough to get himself stopped, and behind him, tracks stand out vividly from his passing. K'rev unbuckles the straps from his belt and dismounts, looking over his dragon's hide, noticing several spots, and one in particular along a wing tip. He looks around dispassionately, noticing the crews at work picking up their supplies. They turn, K'rev following his dragon who intends on joining Shokravanth in the water.
Ginger spots the approaching weyrling pair and calls cheerfully, "How many got you?" She's surveying the young brown's hide from her vantage point on Shokravanth's back as she speaks. "One on the wingtip I can see, and… oh yes, there, and there…. Don't worry, everyone catches a few at first. Worked out what you needed to do differently, though? That's the important thing." She lifts her leg over Shokravanth's back and then slides down into the water, following a trail of paint with her brush.
"A fair few", K'rev nearly shouts as he enters the water. In a lower voice, he says, "But that was when we first started out. As things progressed, we got better. He quickened his pace to walk beside his dragon and reached up, patting the brownling on his right shoulder. «I must learn to see where they fall and turn away quickly to avoid them», Mnaranth adds privately to his rider. We will all get better with practice, be sure of that. K'rev walks with his eyes half closed as he communes with his dragon, attempting to soothe him. Then the weyrling finds a brush in his pack and gets down to the work of scrubbing the paint off his lifemate's hide.
"Yes, it can take a while to get your eye in." Ginger has her back to K'rev as she scrubs Shokravanth's flank, but partly turns to speak over her shoulder. "Paint on wingtips often means you need to be more aware of what's falling around you, as well as right in front. Some people leave it too late to skip Between, as well - there's nothing as good as a rope drill for practising your timing on that. You'll be getting plenty more chances to avoid getting painted. Did you get any on you?" She's curious: every line of paint on dragon or human is a simulated injury. "Don't let it rattle you, if you did."
Turning slightly, K'rev points out a line of paint running down the left shoulder of his wherhide jacket. "Just that one", he says. He continues to scrub his dragon, who seems to have taken most of the paint, but then again, there's more of the brown than of his rider.
"It'll get better with practice," Ginger assures him, still scrubbing briskly. She's finished that particular paint trail, though, and Shokravanth holds out a foreleg to help her scramble back onto his back. "You'll find you get less paint on you every time, until you hardly ever get caught at all. And remember, it's better to skip Between and let the rope fall than to try for one you can't avoid and get scored. Painted." Same thing, really. Shokravanth, floating placidly in the mental vista of a distant spiral galaxy, tells Mnaranth, « It is good to prepare oneself for the fight, is it not? »
«It is», Mnaranth responds, the same serenity spiraling about him now that he is in the water and being cleaned. To Ginger, K'rev replies, "We'll have to go between more often, I think Mnaranth wants to improve his precision flying skills a little too much." A slow smile creeps across his face at that. In return, an heir of rebuke issues from Mnaranth to his rider, «I wouldn't get scored for flying better, I also would not hurt you by flying stupidly.» At that, K'rev leans into his dragon, his smile fading a degree or two.
"Well, practising's best done when there's no Thread in the air, but for now, concentrate on doing whatever it takes to come back from rope drills with no paint to scrub off. " Staying alive comes first, to Ginger's way of thinking. "So if you need to skip, make sure you skip." Shokravanth turns round in the water, so that when Ginger follows another paint trail down into the water on his other side, she's still able to coninue the conversation. "How's everything else going?"
"Well enough. We've been busy with drills every day, and after that, we generally come here to wind down." Mnaranth flattens himself, ducking down fully into the water, the waves just breaking over his back. K'rev, who stands by his side waits for him to pop up. It seems that after a few more strokes of the scrub brush, the brown is clean.
Shokravanth is clean too. Ginger gives him an affectionate slap on his flank, and he starts to wade towards the beach. She stays to talk a little longer. "That's good. And your weyr's working out? Some of the ones they gave our class were real shockers - hadn't been touched since the Weyr was abandoned. Don't suppose there are many of those around now, though - we must have used them all by now."
"Mine's got what looks like tunnel snake burrows in it but they look long abandoned. Whoever was "weyred there before I was had a lot of stuff jammed up in those holes. I've taken cues from them and done the same." K'rev walks in step with his dragon, water dripping off the pair of them as they make their way back onto the sand.
Ginger says, "Sounds like useful storage." Ginger follows her dragon onto the sand of the beach. "Right, I'll go and see how other folks have got on while he's drying. Clear skies, K'rev." While Shokravanth gets himself settled in the sun, Ginger wanders off to talk to some of the other weyrlings, using the time to give some opportunities for individual discussions."

Add a New Comment