F'kan, Ginger, Katrya, Kyriatis, Talya (and dragons)


The first full day of weyrlinghood… goes.

It's a 10 hour scene. Proceed with caution.


It is the twenty-ninth day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Weyrling Barracks, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 06 Jul 2018 23:00


f-kan_default.jpg ginger_default.jpg katryana_default.jpg kyriatis_default.jpg talya_default.jpg
omair.jpg turahaimajusuth_default.jpg

"Normal baby dragon behaviour 101."


Weyrling Barracks

Natural entropy lies restrained by sheer force of will within the chaotic spiral of Southern's weyrling-barracks. The large entry hollows out into an immense common area at the front of the barracks, where sustenance can be procured for both sides of the lifebond: tables are typically set out with at least the trimmings for sandwiches, and often carcasses lie in the hollowed pit for fresh weyrlings to carve chunks of meat for their new lifemates. Beyond, the couches are set within a U-shape around a long pool, spring-fed, large enough to bathe growing dragons.

Heavy tapestries line the stone walls towards the rear of the barracks, while space is at a premium towards the front: shelves and pegs hold leathers and tools, books and useful trinkets of the dragonriding trade. The narrow-point of the U branches into two hallways: one for the candidate barracks, and one for the weyrlingmaster's office.

Tiny dragons are… actually not that tiny, even though they're going to grow much, much bigger. And with thirty-five of them sharing the barracks with an even larger number of older weyrlings, the place is starting to look a bit full. Fortunately, most of the older group are out at the moment, and the new class have the largest space to themselves. Typically, given their age, there's a fair amount of chaos. Some of the 'babes' are sleeping, not necessarily on their couches: they seem to have the ability to drop off anywhere. Some of the new riders are chopping meat, while others are engaged in feeding, bathing or oiling their lifemates, while a few are just sitting with their dragons, lost in the togetherness of it all. Ginger's bathed Shokravanth and is now at the oiling stage. She has oil in a small bucket, and she's gently smoothing it over the striking marbling of his wingsails. He's being quite good about it, but little movements suggest he's ready to be up and doing. "Just hold still a little longer," Ginger says tenderly. "Almost finished here."

By contrast, Omairhuith has curled himself placidly about Kyriatis' knees and appears (truthfully or not) to be dozing there, so still is he. It's actually causing the younger weyrling a bit of trouble, because she's attempting to oil the blue without moving him or herself in the process; not an easy disadvantage to work around. Her fringe is sweat-and-oil clued to her forehead, and the standard weyrling uniform that was clean (and far too large) this morning is now far from clean (but still far too large, cuffs rolled up several times to keep them out of her way). "So is he everything you dreamed of, Gin? Brownrider."

Ginger tears her eyes away from Shokravanth for a moment, but she's back to oiling before she's got half a dozen words out. "Still can't get used to that bit. I was sure I was gonna get a green, if I ever Impressed. But he's amazing. It's like he's got a whole vast universe in his head, and yet he's this… baby. All at the same time. And I just love the colours in his hide and the shape of his wings, and… everything, really." Smitten, much, Ginger? "How about you? Is it what you expected?" Shokravanth flexes his wing muscles and she's immediately contrite. "Sorry, darling, you can fold it now. I'm just going to do your tail, all right?" She listens. "Yes, yes of course."

Kyriatis', "No," is more wry than anything, but there's certainty despite that, and it's not as if the gaze she's got fastened upon her blue isn't absolutely adoring. "Not even close to what I expected, but… still right, somehow, I think. He's perfect, if only I could figure him out." As if on cue, the blue stirs, shifting about as he repositions himself on the brunette's lap, his head turning so that he can regard the world - Shokravanth included - with silent, inscrutable scrutiny. He doesn't speak, but there's a lurking moisture in the air, deep water rippling around shadowy reeds. "Ok, you're going to have to move," his rider says to him. "Else I can't get your belly. Come on."

Ginger nods. "I think working them out is going to take a while. Like, something in my head /looks/ different when he's happy from when he wants something, but I can't quite see it yet. Not clearly. I guess they teach us all about that stuff. Bonding, and all that." She shifts round Shovrakanth, regardless of the fact that he's better placed to move than he is, given that bits of him are - or rather were - draped over her knees, and need to be gently lowered to the ground. Then she gets to work on oiling his hindquarters and tail. "And I feel like my hands are going to be permanently oily. I shall be oozing the stuff whenever I touch anything."

Kyriatis and Ginger are oiling their respective dragons, settled in a not-too-busy part of the barracks while the more senior weyrlings are out in classes, and the juniors continue to get their heads around all these changes. The brunette rests a loving, oily hand upon one of Omairhuith's over-sized feet, nodding along to what Ginger has just said. "I feel like Omair's mind is impenetrable to me. Water— deep, murky, impossible to understand water. He doesn't even speak to me most of the time, not even to answer my questions." She's clearly frustrated by this, but not enough that it stops her from sounding besotted. "At least the oil is helping our hands stay soft?"

"S'pose so, if you like them like that." Ginger sounds dubious. "Shokravanth talks to me. Quite a lot, actually. Says some strange things, though. Kind of poetic, almost. Or dramatic, anyway. And I think I'm getting better at hearing it." She lifts the tail to oil underneath, and the young dragon complies. "Actually, you could do that for me," she tells him. "Just keep it off the floor, will you." Shokravanth obliges. "See, that's better: now I can use both hands."

Doing his rounds of the Weyrling Barracks, keeping an eye out for anyone who may need help, F'kan is sauntering over in the direction of Kyriatis and Ginger and catches snippets of their conversation. With a widening smile, he comments "Some use words more than others, each one has their own way to communicate." Inspecting the jobs they are doing with the care of their dragonets, he nods briefly, satisfied with the work they are both doing. "And it takes time for the two of you to really understand each other, and like Ginger said, we'll be giving you lessons on improving the bond."

For a moment, Kyriatis' expression is caught between envy and dismay, and the gaze she lowers back towards her expression shifts steadily towards guilty in the moments that follow. Perhaps that's why she redoubles her efforts in the oiling, bodily lifting Omairhuith out of her way in order to get his forelimb into a better position. He's remarkably pliable! "So it'll get easier to understand what he wants?" she asks F'kan— after hastily dropping what she's doing in order to give the assistant weyrlingmaster a smart salute. "Sometimes I think he's mocking me, or just being deliberately obtuse."

"It just takes practice," F'kan assures Kyriatis with a bob of his head, "Dragon use all kinds of ways to communicate, he's not using words so much, but that should change the more you communicate with him. And even if he's never a talker, I'm sure you'll soon be able to understand him better as long as you keep working at it." Pep talk number one of the day under his belt, the brownrider returns the weyrling's salute with a smile.

Kyriatis presses her lips together solemnly, but nods. Omairhuith may be inscrutable in many ways, but he's also in love with his rider: as if sensing her disquiet, he turns, moving to burrow his head into her belly— which has the end result of making the girl laugh, her eyes shining. "What kind of lessons?" she wonders, which may be a not-very-subtle way of asking: can we start them now, please? Or yesterday?

Ginger would go for that, too. She's not saluting, though: Shokravanth has draped his already-not-inconsiderable tail across her lap and is leaning against her, and she can't quite see the way of it with hands full and body canted to a 45 degree angle. "When do we start those lessons, please, sir?" She hastily moves the oil bucket out of the way as Shokravanth decides to turn round in the fashion of a cat on a lap. "I'm hearing him just fine, though I'm not always seeing what he wants me to, and I don't think I've quite got the way of talking back to him without actually speaking yet."

"You can start right now," F'kan says with a smirk, "Cause the lesson really just boils down to talking as much with your dragonet as you can. Care for them well, which you both are doing, And if words don't work," He's looking at Kyriatis now, "Just be together, get used to their minds without trying to interpret. They will find a way of letting you know what they need or want." He nods his head at Omairhuith with a chuckle, "Like that, he's trying to reassure you and it worked."

Kyriatis gives Omairhuith's headknobs another good rub, chewing at her lower lip as she does so. "I suppose so?" She's clearly not 100% convinced. "I've barely even started trying to talk to him mentally— half the time I'm not even sure if he can hear me, so it's easier to just keep talking out loud. You can't really communicate properly without words, though. I mean, it's not precise, is it? It's just thoughts and feelings and it's not like they ever get confusing." That bit's sarcasm, though she sounds more resigned that upset about it. "His mind's really unsettling, too. I keep feeling like something gross is going to jump out at me."

"I do all right with my firelizard," Ginger reflects. "When he's around, that is: he came to find me after the hatching, took one look at Shokravanth, and hasn't come closer than the rafters since." It's true: brown Walnut is actually in the cavern, but he's on a high perch. "But I don't think much in words to him, it's more pictures. Guess I do think that way a lot. Maybe it's why I get on being - that is, got on being - a Smith." She's wittering and she knows it, so presses her lips together to make herself shut up, and carries on oiling the young brown's rear end.

"I think you'd be surprised at how much can be communicated with images and feelings," F'kan chuckles again, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Don't force it, or question it," was that a pointed look in Kyriatis' direction? "Just keep doing what you're doing, and give it time. They won't grow up overnight, although it will feel like that at times." Smiling then at Ginger, he nods his head, "Whatever feels the most comfortable, keep it up."

Kyriatis' expression is mulish, because she clearly has interpreted F'kan's look as being pointed. "Maybe," she allows, quite as if it is some grand gesture she's making, by even acknowledging the possibility. "My firelizards haven't been interested, either. Maybe they'll come back later. Or Omair'll draw them in somehow. If he's all about the images, they might like communicating with him." Aware of the near sulkiness of her words, she shuts her mouth again, hastily redoubling her efforts: her blue is going to positively gleam.

Ginger is thinking hard about this. "I guess babies don't communicate a lot at first, and parents learn to understand them just like they learn to understand what people say. Makes sense that there'd be something a bit like that with dragons." Her hand stops moving as her thoughts become more distractng, but Shokravanth turns his head to nudge her back into action, and she resumes dabbing on the oil and spreading it with the cloth. "And it was with Walnut, too: he didn't get much at first, and I didn't get much from him, but now we understand each other pretty well, for the things he /can/ understand. Shokravanth's got a lot more brain than a firelizard."

Really trying not to smile at the ex-gardener's mulish expression and sulky behaviour, F'kan turns his attention to Ginger and the very good point she makes, "Exactly! And just like babies, they need a lot of patience and nurturing." A bit of a disgruntled sqwawck comes from the direction of the bathing pool, where a green refusing her bath pushes her lifemate into the water with a splash. Wincing a little bit, he gives Ginger and Kyriatis one final, approving nod, "Keep it up ladies," before heading off to help the boy deal with his stubborn dragonet.

Kyriatis' gaze follows F'kan as he leaves, though maybe it's the green that's caught her attention. "That's one problem I definitely don't have," she comments, diverting the topic. "Or rather, my problem is that I can't get Omair out of the water. He loves it in there. Crazy water dragon." It makes her tone more affectionate, her expression shifting to follow suit. "It's hard to believe they're going to be the same size as the full-grown dragons one day. Oiling takes so long already."

"Doesn't it! I suppose we won't need to do it all the time, like we are now. Or that's what it seems like." Ginger's working her way towards the tail-tip now, wielding her oily rag in long strokes. Shokravanth has bent his neck round to watch. "He has a bath, he needs oiling. He sleeps, he wakes up, he itches, he needs oiling. He eats, he itches, he needs oiling. Don't you?" The last's to the dragon, and it's delivered with a slightly dopey smile on her face as she talks to her lifemate.

"Omairhuith's the same— aren't you?" There's something exaggerated and deliberate in the way Kyriatis addresses her blue, words clear and over-enunciated. More quietly, "I'll be glad when they're a little older and able to do more things. But then I'm aware that they'll stop being babies and I don't know if I want that either. They're… I mean, they're cute right now, aren't they?" Omairhuith may not be traditionally cute, but he's clearly cute in his riders eyes at least.

Ginger giggles. "They so are. I can't wait for people to be able to meet him. If he keeps that smooth curvy look, he's going to be a handsome guy, too." She turns her attention to Kyriatis's blue. "And your Omairhuith - how are you going to spell that, by the way? - He's such a gorgeous color - brilliant blues. Is blue what you wanted? Not that it makes the slightest difference now, of course."

Kyriatis licks her lip, admitting, "I'm not even wholly sure. It's like… I feel his name more than anything, if that makes sense? O-m-a-i-r-u-i-t-h? But maybe there needs to be an h in there, too. Omairhuith. The blues aren beautiful, aren't they? He's…" She's studying him again. "Not classically beautiful, but I think he's perfect. I sort of figured blue or green, because they're the most common. And I'm happy. We probably won't have to fly a full 'fall, which is an advantage. No pressure, you know? But you're right, your boy is gorgeous."

"I think Shokravanth is S-h-o-k, and then what it sounds like," Ginger says after a moment's thought. "And I'm happy, too. Don't know why I was worried about having a boy in my head; by the time he's old enough for that to be a… thing, I'll be so used to him it won't matter. But we've got a lot of girls on brown in this class. Blues, too. That's kind of brilliant." She's right down to Shokravanth's tail now, smoothing oil all over the little fins.

"And almost all the people I wanted to Impress with, too," says Kyriatis, utterly satisfied and more than a little smug. "I feel a bit bad for Lystia and— well, you know, all the others." It's hard not to make friends across a whole group of candidates, even if they're not your //closest/ buddies. "I remember how it feels. I don't want them to feel neglected." But it's only a passing though, the kind that may never turn into any action. "So many girls on browns. Half the browns or something!"

Ginger counts rapidly on her fingers. "Four out of seven. More than half! Except I suppose you couldn't have an actual half. And you're right. Remember what we said, before, about our friends who Impressed? When we can get out a bit, we should make a point of tracking them down, the ones that are still here. And talking about them, not about us and our dragons." A final wipe of the cloth on Shokravanth's tail-tips, and, "There we are, all done!" The brown rubs his muzzle against her chest. "What's that? Your nose itches?" She rolls her eyes. "Here we go again!"

Kyriatis gets up, and then moves into a kneeling, crouching position so that she can better reach Omairhuith's wings. The blue doesn't seem to like this much - being on her lap was much better - but she frowns at him, and, more or less, he stays where he is. "Oh right," she agrees. "I remember. We'd better, as soon as we're able. I don't want them to feel the way I did." Glancing side-long at the other girl, she asks, "Did he really just say 'my nose itches'?"

"Muzzle." Ginger corrects herself. "It was more, muzzle, really, him not having a nose as such. Let's be-" She breaks off, and tries to speak to the dragon in her head only. He raises his head so that she can get at the itchy spot with her rag, and then croons in relief as the oil is applied. Ginger waits a few seconds to see if any more problems surface, but then says, "Well, that seemed to do the job." She leaves her hand resting on the brown's warm hide.

Kyriatis' face is too expressive for her to entirely hide her ongoing envy of a dragon that actually says what he needs, but it's not envy in an active sense: she doesn't want Shokravanth, just for Omairhuith to share that trait… while still being himself. Evidently the blue is paying some attention, because he hops up and shoves his head into her shoulder again— and she laughs. "I think he's finally happy, too. The waters cleared a bit, and I'm not itching. But how long before he falls asleep again?"

Ginger shrugs. "If they're like human babies, they'll sleep most of the time for a while. Except when you want them to. Think I might take a nap when he does, seeing as he woke me up four times in the night. Oh, do you itch when he does? I had some of that earlier. D'you think I should have felt it just now?" She frowns: clearly she's not immune to worrying about her bond.

"At least they don't cry like human babies," decides Kyriatis. "Though maybe the itching is just as bad… human babies don't do that." She rubs her oily fingers over her arm, not quite scratching: perhaps she has a phantom itch. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter, if he tells you? Maybe I'm just feeling it because that's Omair's way of telling me." But her brow has creased now, concern visible. "We need like a manual or something. Normal baby dragon behaviour 101."

Ginger purses her lips in thought. "Pawla said, you have to learn to distinguish what's them from what's you. Like, if he's hungry, and you feel hungry, is it you being hungry, or you feeling him being hungry." Which is probably clear as mud. "I was feeling him being hungry earlier on, but I knew it couldn't be me because I got breakfast in while he was asleep, so I knew I wasn't hungry, so it had to be him. Besides, he was asleep and I was fine, and then he woke up and I was suddenly starving? Had to be him, really. But it didn't feel much different - maybe it gets so it is? Or maybe we learn to filter it out somehow."

"Or they get better at not sharing everything. I mean, that's why we're not supposed to have really strong emotions, isn't it? Because they can't filter. Everyone's heard stories of baby dragons sharing embarrassing things with the whole Weyr." Kyriatis gives her own dragon a somewhat dubious, wary glance, gathering him closer against her chest (this whole ensemble is going to need to be washed: she's covered with oil by now). "I don't think I have any terribly overwhelming emotions at hand, but it makes me nervous."

"And they get upset, and upset everyone in the barracks," Ginger agrees, nodding. She's settled back to sitting on the floor with her legs in front of her, and Shokravanth's head is gradually working its way more and more onto her thighs. He's starting to blink sleepily. "And nobody wants to be the person that caused that. But we've all heard stories of weyrlings that couldn't resist some girl or guy for a few months. Don't see it, myself."

Nose wrinkling, "Me either. I'm not fussed at the best of times, but this is weyrlinghood. It's important! What kind of a dragonrider are you going to be if you can't control your impulses and get the job done? It has to come first." She has the strident tones of a true believer, a convert to this dragonriding cause (no doubt the uncertainty will come back in future).

Ginger's tone is dry as she goes on. "Besides, the things they all seem to get fussed over are drinking and sex, and if you've been an apprentice, those are kind of frowned on anyway. And if you do actually like those, you're not going to do without for nearly as long now you're a rider. But that's not a problem - it's more things like not getting really angry that worry me." Ginger practically never touches alcohol, and hasn't yet been involved with anyone in a way that might bend or break those rules.

"And even if you weren't an apprentice, it's not that long to wait, and shells, I don't think I'm going to have the energy, you know?" Kyriatis sounds a little superior as she says this: no temptation here! Of course: "I hadn't really thought about the anger thing, though. Omair seems pretty chill at the moment, but… I mean, he shares so little at the moment I'm not sure. It could get awful." She frowns.

"It's more me getting angry I'm worried about than him, but I suppose anything might make them afraid. New things. Storms. Hope we haven't got anyone who's stupid about spinners or tunnelsnakes. One screaming… person could set the whole lot off." Ginger's tone is becoming gloomier by the moment. "And I bet the Weyrlingmasters wouldn't be thanking them for that."

Is Kyriatis now desperately thinking good, happy, supportive thoughts at her dragon, however uncomfortable and foreign that is right now? Maybe. She chews on her lip, uncertain. Finally, "Hopefully they'll help us regulate that, right? They'll actively teach us that one. Because it's important. Because one upset dragon in here could cause all kinds of issues." The gloom, alas, has descended.

Ginger and Kyriatis have just about reached the end of the latest bout of dragon-oiling, and their lifemates are at the snuggly stage, with Shokravanth further down the path of sleepiness than Omairhuith. The conversation is taking a slightly pessimistic turn, however. "Well, if we can't all learn to control our emotions now, I don't know what we're going to do when we actually, you know, see Thread. Or go Between for the first time - 'cos that's going to be seriously scary." And then she realises what she's doing, and takes deep breaths. "Uh, sorry. Maybe better not to think about that right now!"

Kyriatis' eyes go wide. "Shells," she breathes, and evidently these thoughts are enough to rattle Omairhuith, whose eyes open, whose tail begins to flick, and whose thoughts begin to sweep outwards. It's a low tide, for now, rather than a raging torrent, but there are shadows lurking beneath the waves. Flick. Flick. Flick. "Shhh," says his weyrling, hurriedly straightening. "Nothing to be afraid of. We're going to be fine, aren't we? We've got lots of lessons ahead of us, so when the time comes for everything, we'll be ready."

Shokravanth turns a red-tinged eye towards Ginger. "Yes, yes, we will, we'll totally fight what needs fighting. But now's not the time for that - we've got growing to do first, and learning." The brown head settles back into her lap, and eyelids start to droop again. Ginger shakes her head. "So, careful means really careful. Right."

Vinodestroth's after-oiling sleep is disturbed by the sudden disturbance in the waves, static anxiously buzzing to life in the background. Katrya pauses in her cleanup and gives the dragon an affection pat and a soothing thought which he echos. «We have much studying to do before we're ready to fly,» he crackles on a wide band to his clutchmates, «so it's a waste of energy to be worried now.» Pragmatic, for a Hatchling. His rider plops on the ground next to him, leaning against his warm form and humming contentedly. "I think you're right, though, Ginger. We're going to have to learn that control now."

Turahaimajusuth and Talya were getting some good shut eye done after a good long oiling, the latter actually beside her lifemate and looking deep in sleep for once. The conversation seems to have awoken one of them though, whirling eyes opening and tinged red at the thought of Thread and fighting. And then he looks down at his lifemate… and gives a displeased warble. Talya jerks upright, alert and looking around— "What? I… Y'all are already talking about /Thread/?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes and blinks towards her fellow weyrlings. Turahaimajusuth isn't upset about that however, and gives a grumble and nudge to the young woman. "We went over this, Tura. I'm not changing. This is the only thing I have right now. Would you rather see me go naked?" The brown cocks his head and she narrows her eyes at him. "I'm /not/ going naked."

Is Omairhuith worried? It's hard to tell. He is unsettled, though, and the briny deeps of his thoughts reflect that, oozing out towards his clutchmates in gentle wave after gentle wave. His words are few, and deployed the way those of a toddler's might be. « No, » he says, sulky, storm-clouds and shadows, his meaning obscured. Kyriatis squints, furrowing her brow, probably at her dragon though it's difficult to tell. "Sorry if he disrupted you," she says, answering Talya, though the apology is more general than that. "It just… came up. Hard not to think about it, I guess. But it's fine." The last is clearly for her blue.

A void with strands of flickering color touches lightly, a rich, Fortian accent cutting through the static, «Clothes in general seem highly impractical. We don't wear clothes, after all.» A rumble of laughter is almost lost to the background noise. (from Vinodestroth, to Turahaimajusuth)

"We were talking about what we needed not to think about, sort of," Ginger explains to Katrya and Talya, with an embarrassed little shrug. "But it's kind of hard to do that without actually thinking about it. And we discovered that they can pick up on scary stuff even if you're just talking about thinking about it, which caught us out a bit, but I guess it's useful to know they can do that. How are you and yours doing, anyway?"

It's a roll of fog and scent of brimstone that answers in reply, steaming in anger and yet agreement. «Her skin is no where near as drab and disgusting as what she clothes herself in, at least it is smooth and luminous. Mine would be better in nothing than that.» (from Turahaimajusuth, to Vinodestroth)

Katrya gives her lump a pat, for all the world possessing the countenance of a doting mother, a look that's nigh-comical with how baby-faced she is. Think the face you see on a little kid when they fall in love with a stray feline kitten. "Awake, now!" It's said without imprecation, though she sticks her tongue out at Ginger and Kyriatis for being the harbingers of the end of naptime. "Who knew it was possible to be so hungry? I guess they've got a lot of growing to do, though, huh?"

Talya shoves a brown nose away that is trying to pick at her baggy clothes with sharp teeth, likely to shred them. They are as close in proximation of the weyrling uniform as she can get currently. Seeing he was not going to win makes him trumpet loudly, right in Tal's ear. Who needed nap time anyway? "Oh, go on, make a fuss, Tura. If one of the other dragons bite you, don't come crying to me." Sulfur fills the minds of those weyrlings awake and Turahaimajusuth slumps in defeat in grumbles and whines and— Did someone say hungry? Talya gets up, ruffled though bright awake, as she looks towards the others. "You could have at least thought of /nice/ stuff right after instead of having them all scared," she snaps, then rubs her face again. "Sorry… I mean, Tura isn't so much scared, just now annoyed. Apparently I need to find weavers first before worrying about Thread."

Kyriatis, like Talya, is in a uniform that's just a little (more than a little) too big: her sleeves are rolled up several times over, trousers cuffed and cuffed again, and held up with a belt. "Sorry for not being perfect," she snipes back at that particular weyrling, though only half-heartedly; she's more resigned than upset. The same, no doubt, goes for Katrya. Omairhuith's waves recede as he settles again, though he's alert rather than giving in to sleep, prowling fish like so many prying eyes on the lookout for anything amiss. "It's nuts," she agrees, more generally. "They tell you and tell you what it's like, but…"

An undulating static-scape flashes colorful emotion, blue and yellow, light cutting through the rolling fog. «Well, now. Even accepting that premise of yours, mine insists that this is what they must wear for now, so say the powers that be.» The strands of color shift to form circles, like the metaphorical turning of gears. «Though what exactly constitutes a uniform? Is it just the colors? The shape? This seems like a decent experiment, to determine what is within the realm of 'acceptable' for our temporary overlords, don't you think?» (from Vinodestroth, to Turahaimajusuth)

Ginger looks at Talya in near-disbelief. "He's worried about your clothes?" She's in the fortunate position of being taller than the other three by enough that her uniform actually fits, inasmuch as anything as intentionally baggy as her shirt can be said to fit. "Wow. I hope Shokravanth doesn't start worrying about that." Nobody ever accused Ginger of being too fashion-conscious. Or even remotely fashion-conscious. Shokravanth finds something else to think about, however, and a sleepy starscape wafts towards the other young dragons. « They should have proper hide. So much better than those things they are covered with. »

Svelte as she is, Katrya's struggles aren't quite as pronounced as the shorter members of her class but are still present. Her pants are being held on by the grace of belt alone and her green shirt is askew on her shoulders, constantly baring one or the other. "To be fair, I think he may have a point." She shimmies her shoulders for demonstrative purposes, her shirt slipping further down her right arm. "I wouldn't say we're exactly in fighting shape." Vinodestroth extends his band of communication, white noise coupled with Fortian-accented voice of a young man, « Precisely, my dear Shokravanth. This soft flesh not very practical at all. I do hope they've something more sturdy than, » the brown curls his head around in the real world, taking the sleeve of Katrya's shirt and replacing in her shoulder, « these scraps of thing. »

Turahaimajusuth is in a torn state: full blown tantrum or more food? The first wins when his siblings' minds touches his own. «I do not care who insists on uniforms, because she is mine and she should be in only the best.» This anger is now stretching to the others. Burn, rage, burn. The fiery flames lick at their minds, burning through a fog. Outwardly he's slinking after his lifemate now, making little hiss and puffs of disagreement. His attitude definitely transfers onto the young woman, who is trying to remain calm. "I definitely thought I knew what to expect, but there's no /privacy/." It's not that she doesn't want Tura in her head, but she does give a look to the displeased brown. "He's angry, I'm angry. /I/ couldn't care less about clothing so long as it covers and keeps me warm." She slides a glare over to Katrya, obviously still roiling in her brown's emotions. "It's practical and keeps us clean… for the most part. We are not fighting, we're mucking shit and feeding and getting oil everywhere."

Turahaimajusuth's rage spreads, leaking in to Omairhuith's waters and setting them to churn and boil. There's a boom of thunder and a wave of water as he announces, using his words out of nowhere: « DON'T CARE. » Tap, tap, TAP goes his tail upon the floor, increasingly agitated. "Shells," says Kyriatis, grabbing at her dragon to pin him down in her lap. "They're just clothes, damn it. Mine are already ruined anyway, so it wouldn't matter if they fit properly. Can you cool him down, even a little?" She lifts her head from her blue to glance warily at Talya.

Something roils redly in the darkness of space as Shokravanth also picks up Turahaimajusuth's emotion. « We will get them something better! » he declares in his precise tones. « It has to be done! » Ginger raises her eyebrows at what she's hearing from both her dragon and her classmates. "If he's angry, that's him," she tells Talya. "It's up to us not to get the same way. Or we'll have the Weyrlingmaster down on us." She takes her young brown's head between her hands and looks at him, mouth a little open as she things how to calm him. "All right, look…." She falls silent, trying with only partial success to send calming thoughts and images. Shokravanth isn't entirely placated, and it's not clear that he understands entirely what he's been told, but some of the red fades from his eyes as he tells the others, « The meat has hide! They wear the hide from the meat because it is strong. Mine says it is good for them! »

Katrya quails at the anger radiating from Tura and Talya alike, which has Vinodestroth bristling. A whip of static lances out, « Please! Peace! You're upsetting mine over a trivial matter and I ask that you do make some effort to contain yourself. It's not befitting of a man of your stature to be acting in such an uncooth manner. » He snorts and exhales sharply, laying his head on his 'rider's lap. The static dies down Shokravanth's words, « See? Now that's much more sensible. Thank you for your insight, Shok, good chap. » There's a subtle, playful jibe there, the mental equivalent of bumping shoulders. Katrya manages to regulate herself, too, bolstered by her mate's calm. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances for fashion innovation in the future. I'm sure with all the muck we'll be shoveling and all, we'll be wearing through them fairly quickly."

Don't care? Don't Care!? Turahaimajusuth only seems to be taking Omairhuith's words in the worst possible way, «I CARE.» is exploded back in a bonfire, filled with sharp smoky anger. And therefore it is the most important thing EVER. The brown drops in full blown temper tantrum, tail whipping and wings flared out. Who ever thought this weyrling thing would be easy? Talya definitely is letting him have his way with her emotions, and it is only the mention of the Weyrlingmaster bearing down on them that seems to make her snap out of it. She glances to her classmates and sighs. "Shells, I don't want to coddle him either and give in to his demands but… Fine, fine." She takes a deep breath and turns to drop down to her knees in front of her lifemate. "Listen, I'll ask for some new clothes as soon as I can," she says in her best soothing voice. "As /soon/ as I can. We're weyrlings, they have to accomodate us. I'll focus on making you look good for the both of us." The hissing fit seems to be chilling and Tura's mind pulls away from the others as he focuses on what his lifemate is saying.

The storms continue to rage in Omairhuith's mind right up until Turahaimajusuth thaws; in that moment, just like that, his winds drop and the waves of buffetting water drain away until mere droplets, splattering here and there. Kyriatis' sigh is one of immediate and determined relief, her glance towards Talya genuinely sympathetic. Perhaps she's feeling better about her own dragon's foibles, now! "We'll all get better fitting clothes," she agrees. "And real leathers, eventually. I'm looking forward to that. For now… Kat's right, we'd just ruin anything nicer I think."

"Leathers are good," Ginger agrees, glancing round as if expecting a weyrlingmaster to appear at any second - which wouldn't actually be too surprising. As far as Shokravanth is concerned, the starscape phases from red to a cooler blue as the human halves of the partnerships all seem to be exerting calming influences and Turahaimajasuth pulls back his fury. « Leathers are good, » he echoes, and then, succumbing to weariness like the very young creature that he is, adds, « sleep is also good. » He leans more of his weight on Ginger, who tries to encourage him to his feet. "Better to sleep on your couch, love."

Vinodestroth's white noise heightens in intensity in sync with Turahaimajusuth's escalation, taking on an anxious, wheeling pitch that continues to rise before abruptly being reined in, leaving a crackling void and the cleansing scent of ozone. Katrya's let her eyes flicker closed, focusing on breathing in a calming rhythm and avoiding a weyrlingmaster's appearance. She draws the slender wedge of Vino's head into her lap, stroking his eyeridges. "Exactly," she adds to the conversation, not opening her eyes. "Which is still a while off. Man, it's surreal right now. I still can't believe we're all here, you know?" Vino snaps something that has Kat jumping to sooth him, stricken, "Of course not, heart of my heart!"

Talya and Turahaimajusuth seem to stay staring at each other for a good long moment, whether having a mental fight or simply sharing calming thoughts, only the two of them would really know. Tal's hands frame his head, just under the curved headknobs and stays with him nose to nose just like when they had Impressed. It seems to be doing the trick, the tension in the young woman's shoulders ebbing away and the dragonet slowly folding his wings down. There's nothing left but a gently creeping fog tickling the edges of his brothers' minds. Talya makes herself comfortable right where she landed on the ground, allowing Turahaimajusuth to rest his head in her lap so she can get to rubbing out the rest of the tension. "Surreal is a good word for it. "I have to think hard to remember what it was like on the hatching grounds before Tura found me finally. You all had gone off and Impressed and—" Dark eyes look down to the brown's head with a laugh. "Yes, Tura, you were just waiting to have the spotlight."

"I was saying that to Gin earlier," agrees Kyriatis, lifting her head from her Omairhuith-shaped lap-warmer, to return to the conversation more agreeably. "Everyone I was close to, and most of the people I was friendly with, too. There are a few— we're going to make sure we go and say hi to the ones we know, as soon as we can, so that they don't feel neglected and abandoned the way we did, in the past. But… I kind of get how that happens, too. It's a different world. A different life. I'm glad we all get to do this together. Everyone always says you stay close with the people you Impressed with, even after you're in the wings." Omair may be beginning to fall asleep again, but they've settled into a comfortable position here: she's not ready to try and move him.

"Yes, all that waiting and worrying - and now we've got a whole other set of waiting and worrying-but-let's-not-think-about.that." Ginger rattles out the words to preempt any further problems, even as she extricates herself from under her dragon and persuades him to his feet. "I'd better get him settled if I can - looks like he needs a nap, and if he has one, maybe I can. Didn't think there could be anywhere noisier than the candidate barracks, but I think this place beats it." She looks almost as weary as Shokravanth, who is starting to sway. "Come on, love, let's get you to bed." She steers him towards their couch, both of them now intent on sleep.

Katrya nods enthusiastically and shakes her hands out, earning a discontented snuff from Vino on her lap for jostling the nigh-snoozing dragonet. Ginger gets a look before she trails off, making the teen breath a sigh of relief to not have to open that container of worms again. "Yes, for sure, Kyri. I don't want anyone to feel that way. Journeyman Matrell — my journeyman, previously, I guess — didn't seem happy. I mean. When I was on the Sands. I saw him." She shivers, anxious. "Though I guess there's little to be done there. This is our life now." Beam! "I'm glad we all Impressed. I don't know what I would've done if any of us were left Standing."

"Not sure where you'll find the time to talk to anyone that isn't right here," Talya says to Kyriatis, heaving another sigh at the idea of all that awaits them. She is not going to be having anymore lazy days any time son. Turahaimajusuth croons in approval when her hands find a spot on a ridge that is particularly nice, thrumming through the woman's whole body and making her look down fondly at him. She glances up to give Ginger a wave as she departs to sleep in the proper place instead of the middle of the barracks. Not that Tura is sleeping, just resting after an exhausting temper tantrum. "Everyone I know is right here, as riders, but I guess we won't really be seeing much of them either until we're larger ourselves, right? Not that I want to anyway, I'm tired already, and I just woke up." Even if she was startled awake. "No use thinking about being left behind now, we're here now."

"That's the thing," Kyriatis confirms. "I get now how it happens, how you just… don't have time to keep up with people you used to be friends with. I just want to try, if we ever get the chance." She makes a face, sympathetic, in response to Katyra's comment about her journeyman, but offers: "You'll be able to be a dragonhealer now, though, which is exciting. But… it's all exhausting and overwhelming, isn't it? And I don't know if I'm ready to try and explain it to anyone who hasn't been through it themselves." Omairhuith is definitely asleep now, dreaming of placid waters.

Katrya's bright mood bubble is popped as reality sets in, leaving her fairly subdued. Moody teenage sigh. "You're right, Talya. I don't want you to be right, but you are." Hands are clapped together as a thought strikes her. "There's so much to learn though! That's exciting." Vinodestroth's signal bumps, picking up on the wave of enthusiasm and carrying it out into the aether. "I hope the tiredness doesn't last forever. It's just like having a newborn human child, but thankfully, they grow a bit faster. And the cleanup isn't quite as bad."

Turahaimajusuth is not actually falling asleep like his siblings, and the enthusiasm in the room makes him open a gently whirling eye. At least this time he doesn't have anything to say about her clothing. "Oh, I have a feeling we'll learn so much that we're going to explode. I know my brain is already full and it has only been a day, aren't you two already there?" Talya's free hand lifts up to rub at a temple. "Dragonhealing doesn't come until after the initial growing-up-and-learning-period, right?" She snorts down to her baby brown, head still cushioned in her lap. "I have no idea what it is like having a newborn human child but at least those you can foster off. Er, no, my love, I won't hoist you off on someone else. I don't want to leave your side for a moment." The last is said tenderly to Tura who lifts his head up as the thought of fostering fills his mind.

"The cleanup is still pretty gross," is Kyriatis' opinion, nose wrinkling, but she can acknowledge the rest with a grin: tired as she is, overwhelmed as she is, it's still one of the best days of her life. "Oh, I'm exhausted. And… shells, I don't know how we'll be ready to learn anything. But I think I'm going to enjoy some of the doing lessons… and Kat will love all the studying ones." The traces a line down Omairhuith's neckridges, fingertips only, and smiles at him. "Everyone says it gets easier."

Vinodestroth is fading in and out of sleep, tendrils of colored signal buzzing off of him as the conversation flows. "Oh, no, I'm not denying that it's gross. But at least we don't have to wipe dragon ass." So there's that. Katrya draws fingers down the side of her face from her temples to her jawline, "Gonna have to make room for it all. I don't know where, though. My mind is so full of him. It doesn't feel like there's a place for it to go, yet." She pushes her boots off and folds her feet under her, looking fondly at her own lapwarmer. "Dragonhealing is a field of its own, not Healing, but I suppose they're connected. I'd love to." Her words are punctuated by a yawn. "First thing's first, though." Glancing up at Kyri and Talya, "What are you most excited to learn about? As a weyrling, I mean."

Talya answers the others even as she stares down at her lifemate, sinking back into that completely awed feeling of him being there, with her. "I think they say easier just to make us feel better about it all. I wouldn't have it any other way, but I definitely have a feeling it's going to be more work than anyone could ever explain it to you." Maybe it was just her, with her temper tantrum brown. It wasn't his first in the day and it wasn't going to be the last, considering the fact that he was still a baby. Turahaimajusuth thankfully isn't picking up on that, and eventually stretches out onto his side so that he can demand more caressing in different spots. Tal's eyes snap up to Katrya, brows raised high and she asks as if it was obvious, "You mean other than flying and going :between: to anywhere on Pern? What else is there to be excited about?"

Kyriatis' feelings on wiping dragon ass go unspoken, but they're still pretty plain: ew! "I'm not saying I think it'll get easy. But I think things'll balance better, later. I mean… they have to, right? Omair will start actually talking to me instead of emoting, and… and Tura will have fewer tantrums. Vin will learn whatever he needs to learn. And we'll learn. But," she's straightening, now, eager. "It's flying I'm definitely looking forward to. I don't care about leaving Southern, but I want to be able to explore the continent. There are so many plants out there no one's even ever seen!"

"He wants to learn everything," Katrya expresses with a wide-eyed look — something between awe and dismay or perhaps a mix of both. "They are just babies, after all. And we'll learn to help them better, guide them." Vinodestroth pops open a eye, fixing Katrya with a acerbic look, "Well, you are! You just hatched and that makes you a baby, no matter how you feel about it. That's indisputable. A fact." She leans further back, melting back onto the dragon sliding down his hide to puddle on the floor with him. "Flying will be exciting, and exploring. There's so much to see. I've barely been outside of Southern."

"They have to," Talya agrees with a determined nod, even though she's holding a ticking time bomb in her lap. She gives the brown his desired caresses. "Flying is defintiely going to be the best lesson of them all. That's also when we get a lot of restrictions lifted from us, right?" She is a little unclear on the time table of weyrlinghood, only having enough sense to know what she should be doing right at the moment. Like scratching at that spot on Tura that seems to suddenly be itching him fiercely. Even the woman shakes herself at the itchy thought. Tura's mind dips gently into Vinodestroth, a gently rolling plain to relax his brother even as he says, «Let them pamper us and please us as children should be.» He isn't going to complain about the treatment yet.

Kyriatis' opinion of the matter? "Southern's the best place on Pern, but I suppose it's worth having comparisons just to reinforce that. We're Southern riders now, and that stands for something." For what, exactly? Who can say. "Eventually, we'll get to live in weyrs, too. I've never had a space that only belonged to me." Pause. "I mean, it'll be both of us, but still. I wonder what it's like to sleep in a room with no one else in it."

Katrya groans at Kyriatis' oft-repeated opinion, "If Southern caught on fire and burned to the ground tomorrow, you'd still claim it was the best place on Pern, Kyri. We don't even know what's out there!" She rolls her head around her shoulders, flopping it to blink at Talya, "I don't know, actually, but that would make sense. I don't know what I'll do with that much freedom. Between the flying and the weyr and being a person who's, I dunno, not a kid or an apprentice and actually has some //rank/. Not for a while yet, though." The gentle hiss of static returns, answering Tura in tired tones, « I suppose we must, eh? »

"Southern is pretty great," Talya agrees. "I've seen two other places in the past, but can't say I've really gone exploring. I mean, it could be worse. We could be weyrlings in the winter of High Reaches." She shudders at the thought and seems to curl over her lifemate. He's nice and warm at least. "I know exactly what I'll be doing with my own private place finally. I'll be sleeping in when I can and make sure Tura keeps everyone well clear of my weyr when I don't want to be disturbed. Shells, it'll be nice to be quiet when that time comes." Turahaimajusuth is quiet on the fact that he is already being regulated to watchdragon, and will probably decline said position when the time comes. Instead he lounges even more heavily and demands more attention. There's a new spot, and Talya has to stretch far to make sure to itch it this time.

"There is nothing out there that could beat Southern, absolutely nothing." Kyriatis is sure of it; determinedly. "I've visited a few places, with dad, and nothing came even close." The possibility of rank is an unnerving one, and perhaps that's why she bypasses that comment altogether to laugh in answer to Talya's comments on having a weyr. "I think I'll be terrified to sleep alone," she admits. "So it's a good thing I'll have Omairhuith. We're… never really going to be alone again, are we? For ever and always."

"Talking about quiet places to sleep?" That's Ginger, bleary-eyed and on her own. Shokravanth is on his couch, fast asleep, but his rider has found sleep elusive. "I never had my own space - must have been in with my parents until my sister came along - but I was in small rooms with just my sisters, not big dorms, until I apprenticed. Even a tiny room of my own would be so nice, though. I was looking forward to making journeyman for that, but now it'll be even sooner. No more sharing with snorers." She glances towards her dragon, who is emitting a regular low whistle as he breathes out. "I guess he's allowed!"

Katrya continues melting onto her half-dozing dragon, his presence in her mind a calming background noise. "I guess we won't, will we?" she muses in wonder. "Be alone, that is." The comment about snorers gets a laugh, "Well, at least once we're out of here. I'm sure someone here is a snorer. But a few months is different than a few Turns. At least in the dorms, I didn't have to share with Talusian anymore. He's such a butt." Little brothers, man. Gotta love 'em.

Talya looks from one weyrling to the next, brows raised. "None of you have ever slept on your own?" This seems to be strange to the ex-Guard, her lips pursed tightly. "I mean, not that you'll still get to experience that chance. No, definitely never alone," she agrees fiercely, very much happy about this fact. "Even if they are loud and sometimes obnoxious in our head. And have no privacy anymore." Turahaimajusuth seems to be insulted by this train of that and he whuffles up to the young woman, making her chuckle and gently push him back down for his scratches. "Oh, whatever. But really, I guess I had a little time on my own back in the Hold, since my Father was always out drinking. It's nice to have space." Her eyes turn to Ginger at her return and she says, very happy with the thought, "No more /snoring/, thank Faranth for that. Unless your lifemate snores, then I pity you."

Kyriatis glances up as Ginger returns, her expression sympathetic, her nose wrinkling. "I didn't notice who snored, last night. Too exhausted, I guess, once I was finally wound down enough to sleep. I don't know many people who've had the opportunity to sleep alone… I guess, Jaymes— J'ay, that is, I mean, he would've, because he was a Journeyman." Her dragon, at least, does not seem to be a snorer: he's resting peacefully. "I want to get a weyr where I can grow plants on the ledge. As long as he lets me, anyway. He's a water dragon more than… you know, something earthy. But I think it'd be okay."

"Oh yes, someone does," Ginger confirms, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Several someones - I was treated to the lot when I couldn't sleep last night. I think the one who was really bringing the roof down was from the other class, though." She turns her gaze on the former gardener. "Oooh, Kyri, a balcony garden! That sounds great! I want… somewhere I can potter and do projects in the evenings, I think. And a view. It's got to be up high." She glances back towards the couch, unable to take her eyes off her dragon for long.

"I dunno if those are the circumstances I'd want to be alone in," Katrya comments dubiously with an eye squint, regarding Tayla's… parental situation. "My foster mom tried to make sure we had space, or at least that I had space, but it didn't work out so well. I'll be glad to be able to leave the glows on and read all night, though." Because those are her dreams. Vinodestroth wiggles, extricating himself and clambering to his feet, leaving Kat scrambling to untangle herself with his baby limbs. "Oi, what gives?" The dragon fixes her with a look before trodding off to his couch. "Well, you didn't need to dump me on the ground, Vino. That was highly //unnecessary." Exasperated sigh. "Yes, it was highly efficient, but also rude. People get upset when you do things like that, I've learned." Backrest gone, Kat settles for flopping on the ground. "I don't know what kind of weyr I want; as long as I can have space and quiet, I'll be happy. That idea sounds lovely, though, Kyri."

Talya gives a shrug to Katrya's words, not really bothered at all by it. "Just had to learn to cope, and better to be alone than with that kind of person, trust me." She seems to be considering what kind of ledge she can request when the time comes, even if it was a good long while away. "High up is nice but…" She tries not to remember distressing things, but still it seems to happen. Turahaimajusuth jerks his head up, regarding his lifemate intensely. Talya is trying to look anywhere but at him, probably focusing on something /other/ than falling off cliffs and tall heights. "You can maybe request one on the ground, Kyriatis. A ship-turned-weyr like Vani's… I used to stay with her for a time, but I'd hate to be somewhere that people can just barge in at any time."

"So someone who will move out soon, I hope. That's a relief." Kyriatis gives a nervous glance towards the dragon couches, now. It's one thing to share a candidate barracks with dozen and dozens of people, and quite another altogether to move into a space where it is weyrlings and dragons together. Katrya's need to untangle draws the twitch of a smile from the blue weyrling, but she's too polite to comment. Instead, "Ooh, a ground weyr. Maybe that would work. Really, all I want is a space somewhere. Wouldn't it be lovely? Lots of plants for me to grow. Perfect."

"Maybe the river cliffs," Ginger says, in a pensive tone. "Or, something I could climb up to if I got the urge. But we don't have to think about that yet - plenty of time to decide. And it'll depend on what's free, anyway." She does not let herself mention - or think about - how weyrs become free. Another glance at her oh-so-fascinating dragon, who is still sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

Katrya is pensive as she lays on the stone floor, letting the conversation flow around her. Ginger's words about weyrs freeing up snap her back, causing a wave of static signal to radiate off of the resting Vinodestroth, zaps of anxiety and fear. "Oh, shards." She peels herself off the ground to go sit beside the dragon, pressing her weight down on top of him. "Shh, shh. It's not something we need to worry about right now." An apologetic glance is sent to those around her, even as Vino's projection abates. "And we'll get more options as older riders, too," she offers, "I mean, once we aren't barely-graduated. Seniority and all."

Still being awake, Turahaimajusuth's mind also seems to roil at the sudden dark thoughts that plague Talya. Cliffs and back to why weyrs suddenly grow empty. "I don't care where," Talya insists, if anything to help calm her dragon's mind again. "So long as it's the two of us." Seeing that the brown was not going to settle back down, she slowly removes herself from his weight and gets up. She tries her best to adjust her baggy clothes, wrinkled now and gets a sharp glare from her dragon. The rumbling starts up again and the young woman tries to cut it off, "Snack? You want a snack, Tura?" He's up on his feet in no time, making his way to where there's meat prepared early for the young weyrlings. Meltdown prevented! "I'm going to stuff him til he passes out, then get a nap in myself."

Vinodestroth's zaps of anxiety and fear are enough to make Omairhuith stir— and that's enough to push Kyriatis into motion. "Shh," she reassures the blue. "You're fine. We're all fine. We've been talking about the future, and how much exciting stuff there is waiting for us. Come on, let's get you settled." She gives her fellow weyrlings a cheerfully rueful smile, drawing her blue into her arms (sort of - half carried, at least) so that she can get him off to his couch, ready for sleepytimes.

"I'm going to get some meat ready for Shokravath's next meal, I think," Ginger says. "Seeing as I still can't sleep. Maybe if I stay awake now I'll sleep tonight. Of course, if he does what he did last night, someone's going to have to drag me out of bed in the morning." She ambles off towards the meal preparation area.

Katrya flushes as her inability to control her thoughts sends the barracks into relative chaos, mental chastisement so severe it's got Vinodestroth's broadcast doing a 180, and it's suddenly all soothing waves of greens and blues and carefully modulated void. Thankfully, moping is forestalled by him catching wind of an impending meal from his clutchmates. She pulls herself up from her faceplant on his hide, giggling, "Of course, food, yes, we can do that!" Let's get these growing dragons some lunch! Or naps, as the case may be.

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