Who

Ryott, T'quil, Wrayth, Myrraith

What

Wrayth has been trying something she's not supposed to do. The results are not good!

When

It is midmorning of the twenty-second day of the first month of the seventeenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Lower Bowl, Southern Weyr.

OOC Date 19 May 2019 23:00

 

ryott_default.jpgt-quil_default.jpgwrayth_default.jpgmyrraith_default.jpg

bowl.png

Lower Bowl

Cobblestones sweep as far as the eye can see, a unique feature to the lower section of the bowl — but necessary, perhaps, as the stepped western bowl drains off into this high-trafficked area. The shallow bowl is bounded by craggy-black bowlwall with entrances pockmarked - and some boarded over in an effort to prevent entry from un-renovated caverns. Directly south, the wall neatly crumbles away to roll southerly into rollicking fields of soft hills; a glance of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge that spans westward.


Midmorning and all is not well with a certain rose-masked almost fully grown queen who is slinking miserably through the bowl, stopping every couple of steps to lift her head and open her mouth fruitlessly before continuing her trek. « Oh no! » she exclaims without warning or filter to her rider and those dragons nearby, before her body curls upon itself and she expels a steaming pile of grey mess in front of her. Trying to act cool, Wrayth takes a powerful hind claw and scoops a pile of soil over it covertly, before continuing her path. Alerted though with those two little words she's learned she never wants to hear from her queen, Ryott excuses herself from a class on maintaining ledgers and is heading towards the Bowl as quickly as she can while trying to get Wrayth to talk to her, but her lifemate is returning any efforts of prying with a block of pure white granite blocking the path.

T'quil isn't in that particular class as nobody thinks there are many ledgers in a greenrider's future. He has, however, just been doing some practice with a couple of other weyrlings, and as he's opted to check the fit of Myrraith's straps in the shadow of a spur of the bowl wall, he's now on his own apart from the green. It's Myrraith who first notices the approaching gold pair, and she's already watching when Wrayth has her little…. shall we say, accident? Except that she's entirely familiar with such incidents by now, as it happens to her regularly after certain exercises, and she doesn't think for a moment that there's anything accidental about it. She extends some curling fronds of vegetation towards Wrayth, and says bluntly, « That only happens to me when I chew firestone. Why have you been chewing firestone? Queens don't do that. » And of course, she lets T'quil in on the question, too. He's been running his fingers under her neck strap, checking for any tightness or roughness, but turns sharply when his dragon alerts him, to see what's going on. There's Wrayth, now moving on. And there's Ryott. He looks from one to the other, and inserts himself in between the two so that he can intercept the goldrider. "Is she all right? Myrraith says she brought… something… up." He sounds a little uncertain about what the something is, but sends an enquiring look towards Myrraith when she tells him the same thing again.

Moving subtly away from the scene of her incident, Wrayth reaches her red glow in the direction of Myrraith's fronds, casting them in an eerie light « SHHH! I must not have done it right. » The last is more to herself than anyone else, as she starts to go a bit grey around the edges and there's a strained look as she clamps her jaws together. Ryott is intercepted by T'quil and puts on the breaks as dark eyes grow wide and she shoots a look at her queen. "Did she? What've you been eating?" Ryott asks sharply of Wrayth who turns her head stubbornly, trying to quell the roiling in her stomach, but to no avail. Another pile of faintly steamy sludge is deposited in plain view of everyone, and Ryott blinks several times before slapping her palm against her forehead. "Faranth save me from you Wrayth, we've been over this!" Turning a sidelong glance at her clutchsibling, she winces slightly, "Is that what I think it is?" Cause they didn't have those lessons, for good reason, but she has a sneaking suspicion as to what happened.

T'quil knows that grey sludge only too well by now. "If you think it's chewed firestone, then it's exactly what you think it is. The smell's pretty hard to mistake. Though… Myrraith's is usually more ashy." Myrraith's leafy tendrils twitch curiously. « Did you make a long flame? If you didn't, then you didn't do it right. » She's already forgotten her first distinctly feeble attempts! « But mine is thinking that you shouldn't be able to flame at all. » There's the faintest of pauses. « And now he's wondering if what they have told him about that is right. Especially if you did flame. » Apparently she has no compunction about sharing her rider's thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, Ryott scrubs at her face with her hands, grumbling under her breath, "Of all the wherry brained ideas. I thought so. I really thought she was getting close to outgrowing this kind of shit." The teen weyrwoman-to-be drops her hands to her hips and tilts her head with an exasperated sigh up at Wrayth. « No…I didn't make flame, I just chewed and swallowed, tried to flame, but my stomach just started to hurt instead. Maybe didn't use enough…. » Hearing that Ryott snorts derisively, "Or you could believe me when I, and everyone else, have been telling you that queens can't flame. I'm sorry dearest, but that's the breaks." Tossing another head shaking in T'quil's direction, she furrows her brows a bit, "How do I know if she still has any in her?" she asks, hoping he will have some sort of answer for her and so she won't have to face the dragonhealers…again.

Myrraith feels the need for a quick conference with T'quil before she replies. Her curious leafy tendrils withdraw into a soothing landscape of green fields and fluffy clouds. « I don't think it's going to work, » she says gently. « Flaming is my job. Being a queen is your job. And eggs. I can't do that; you can't flame. It's only fair, really. » T'quil considers Ryott's question. "I don't really know, but Myrraith and the others seem to bring it up without any bother, and I don't think any of it stays down. If she's finished regurgitating, it's probably gone. But if I were you I'd err on the side of caution and talk to a dragonhealer. I mean, I don't think anyone's actually proved that theory about firestone being why greens are sterile, but I don't think they've disproved it either." T'quil may not be inclined to believe anything that doesn't have strong empirical evidence behind it, but it's a popular belief.

Wrayth really doesn't seem to want to accept Myrraith's words, a flash of stubborn sparks against the ruddy glow of her mind. « Fair? Yeah right. » The young gold closes the rest of them out as her mindscape shifts to the stark white marble of desolation, dust blowing on weak breezes over a barren, dying landscape. To escape her humiliation, Wrayth snaps her pyrite veined wings wide and leaps into the air, climbing only a couple dragon lengths before finding a ledge where she can have a proper brood without anyone watching. Ryott, who was smart enough to take a few steps back as soon as the marble started to materialize, lowers her arm that was shielding her face from the queen's backdraft. "Well at least this is familiar enough, time for a sulk," there's a harshness to her words that are tinged with the worry her gold causes in her. "I'll try to track down Katrya, and probably get another lecture for my troubles. If she couldn't flame, maybe that's all there is to it. That queens can't flame and that's why they don't?" She's reaching, that's obvious.

"Maybe." T'quil's tone is non-committal. "I believe firelizard queens can, but I don't suppose we can assume dragons are the same. Talking to Katrya sounds like a good idea." He eyes Wrayth in a speculative fashion. "I wonder if they actually have a second stomach but it doesn't function, or if they don't have one at all and what Wrayth chewed went the same way as her food. Maybe Katrya would know that, too." He's wearing a thoughtful frown. Myrraith is cheerful and coaxing. « Oh, don't sulk: that won't make you feel better. Have you got any more to spew up, or are you finished now? If you're still feeling miserable maybe there's more to come. »

"Right, you were a healer weren't you?" Ryott asks with a speculative tilt of her head in the greenrider's direction. "I don't know about second stomachs and all that, we didn't have those classes," the teen schools her expression back to neutrality before lifting a single shoulder in a half-shrug. "Anyway, I'm sure Katrya will known. How're you doing? Got any Wingleaders sniffing about you and Myrraith for tapping?" She's not trying to sound bitter, since she already knows which wing they'll be joining once they graduate, which is coming up faster and faster. For her part, Wrayth merely revels in her bleak palace of white stone, voice echoing as if from far away, « I'm fine. it doesn't hurt anymore. » Well maybe not her stomach, but her pride's been definitely pricked.

"Oh, yes, they have one for food and one for firestone. When they were learning to chew, we had to tell them to think of their second stomach, but it seems to come naturally now that they've had some practice. Oh!" The implications of that have struck him, and Wrayth gets a sideways look before he lowers his voice to a whisper. "It's possible she didn't, and that's why…" He nods towards the second pile of regurgitated stone. "But I'm thinking you don't want her trying again. Better to talk to Katrya." He raises his voice again and answers Ryott's question. "Not that I've noticed. I've told P'quil that I'm interested in continuing to serve as a healer, though, or maybe in training as a dragonhealer, and he says that might affect where I end up. He said I ought to talk to someone called Rielle, too - apparently she's a healer who used to be a wingleader."

Leaning in to listen to T'quil's whisper, Ryott frowns again a bit, but makes sure she keeps her thoughts away from her lifemate. "Could be, but you're right. I really don't want her trying again. Maybe Vinodestroth can talk some sense into her, and we'll see what Katrya has to say," that was a very reasonable response coming from Ryott, at least one of the pair seems to be maturing….slightly. But her dour mood doesn't linger long before she nodding along with T'quil's reply, "Sound plan, keeping up your training. I'm not sure my pre-impression skills are that transferrable," she adds crytically before shrugging once more. "Haven't heard of Rielle, but she must have been good to be a wingleader." With a tilt of her head up in the direction of the ledge Wrayth ended on, she wrinkles her nose slightly, "Sorry, I think I better go find Katrya right away, she's got me all worried now," even though her tone is still mostly impassive. "I'll let you know how it goes." she remarks walking backwards a few steps before spinning on her heels and trodging her way towards the Dragonhealers'.

"Thanks, I'd like to know." T'quil gives a nod to the departing goldrider, then turns back to Myrraith with a meaningful look as he silently forbids the green to mention second stomachs to Wrayth. Of course, it could be way too late. Myrraith is helpful like that.

Add a New Comment