Who

A'kehm & Ahiardhath, Do'rn & Kazuth, Ulrika & Theidith

What

A'kehm wrangles some weyrlings to test out their wings.

Time fudgery and an OOC cameo by Ishevhaeth (peanut gallery, go!)

When

-- On Pern --
It is sunrise of the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Southern:
It is the eighty-eighth day of Spring and 94 degrees. It is sunny and bright. The skies are clear.


Where

Southern Weyr, Training Grounds

OOC Date 22 Apr 2019 04:00

 

a-kehm_default.jpg do-rn_default.jpg ulrika_default.jpg
ahiardhath_default.jpg kazuth_default.jpg theidith_default.jpg

« Face the wind, bear yourselves calmly. Feel it against your hide and someday you will know its source. »


training_grounds.jpg

Training Grounds

A broad and sheltered swoop of bowl lies bare for the talons and tread of countless weyrlings that-will-be, encased by stone scoured and scarred by those-that-were. Dirt lies as neatly as dirt can lie, swept and raked daily, at the mouth of the caverns that must indubitably be the weyrling barracks. Devoid of decoration, the place stands strangely absent of pressence when empty, the everpresent wind of Southern giving strange acoustics to those under the shelter of the towering bowl-wall.

It is the eighty-eighth day of Spring and 94 degrees. It is sunny and bright. The skies are clear.


Dawn spreads a watercolor wash over the sky as the weyrlingmasters begin to mingle among their charges. Soon, a ruckus is an understatement as young dragons and their equally young riders are told there dragons will be flying in short order. Between the small talk of weyrlings and the mental chatter of dragons, it's a frenetic pace as it's made known breakfast will be an affair after the flight exercises. A'kehm, hanging by the door, looks ready to bolt. Eventually one of the more senior assistant's says for the dragons to begin warmups. Each assistant, moving at different locations throughout the bowl, will be in charge of a group of about ten weyrlings. G'pol is sorting these groups, doing a roll call. "C'mon, this'll take all day." The back of Kehm's head thuds against the stone wall.

Theidith is not concerned with food, not when flying is an option. While she's far from being an anxious dragon, she's definitely excited and struggles to contain her enthusiasm. She gets it all the way down to her tail, though that tail is vigorously twitching and writhing. Her thoughts are dazzling; sunlight is bright on vibrant green leaves, blossoms erupting and swirling on internal winds to be shared with the other dragons nearest her. « Today, we fly, my brothers and sisters! » Ulrika is much more stoic about it - downright grim-faced, in fact, with a stony hardness to her jaw that suggests a slight lack of enthusiasm on her side. But, then, anyone that knows the gold knows just how difficult she can be when it comes to containing her confidence. If they get out of this without pulling a wing muscle, the Istan is likely to consider it a win. Salutes are offered as they're needed; confirmation of presence announced when roll call is made. Otherwise, the blonde stands where instructed, with Theidith performing the warmups as directed.

Kazuth's mindscape is alive with blossoms, gently warmed mists, and the music of flutes and stringed instruments. « We shall fly today? » there is a hint of excitement there as the bronze's mindscape twines into Theidith's, his voice echoing her own. Do'rn can't help the small chuckle that escapes as he places a hand against the side of his dragon, "Steady there Kazuth. We're not flying. You are flying, and I and all the rest of us without wings stay here on the ground," a grin is thrown towards Ulrika, "Watching you." Do'rn does listen to instructions, give salutes where needed, and makes sure Kazuth does the warm ups.

A'kehm is loathe to pull his head away from the wall, a material that's still cool to the touch. As his group of eleven are named and sorted from their peers, A'kehm feeds off every salute and stalks to the front of their little cadre. Watching Kazuth and Theidith, among others of his charges, extend their wings and practice several repetative beats, he critiques. "No rush, easy does it. Your Weyrleaders will tell you don't sacrifice preparation for haste." He personally doesn't care. "Not being loaded with food in their gullets will help." He pulls some dried fruit, nuts, and meat from somewhere and crunches, the no food rule doesn't apply to superiors.

In this, the gold is nothing if not dutiful in her performance of the warmups; it is as much for her benefit as to demonstrate for the other weyrlings. « You will do well, » she reassures Kazuth brightly, allowing the mists of his mind to mingle with the steam of her jungle. Theidith takes her role, presumed as it is, as seriously as her weyrling rider seems to. Ulrika cants a look to Do'rn with an echo of his grin, if tilted. Her attention returns keenly to Theidith, brow furrowed while she 'listens' to the gold - or, more accurately, keeps tabs on how she's feeling and offers reminders to go slow when it looks like she might be pushing too hard or too fast. "Aye, Sir," is called to A'kehm for his offering of advice. "Understood." There might be a sidelong look for his snack, but she'll just ignore the growling of her own stomach for now. There'll be time for something substantial later.

The young bronze is eager, but Do'rn keeps him from rushing the warm ups, « We shall all do well, » Kazuth answers. Do'rn gives a nod, "Aye, Sir," said smartly to the instructions. Sure enough, Kazuth's pace picks up just a little in his excitement only to be brought back to the pace he should be at, "Rush this part Kaz, and you'll hurt later. Never rush stretching, or other needed excercises. You pay for it later," this is said quietly to his bond, who grumbles softly in protest. The grumble sounding like soft rumble low in the young dragon's throat.

Ahiardhath's mental tones rally the weyrlings, a warm updraft smelling faintly of woodsmoke bolstering each of them. « Face the wind, bear yourselves calmly. Feel it against your hide and someday you will know its source. » A'kehm pivots his head to look at Ahiardhath and stoutly roll his eyes. You and your vague manifestoes. "Do'rn's right. If you or your dragons sense any pain or discomfort, have them land immediately. And speaking of landing, have them face northeast when it's their turn to fly so they'll have a headwind. If there's no questions," crunch, as he pops a few pecans into his mouth, "Do'rn, launch Kazuth up."

"Aye, you listen to him, even if you're not of a mind to listen to me when it comes to stretching." Ulrika knows her stuff - but even she pushes things a little too far, sometimes. She just won't let Theidith do it - if she can avoid it. The gold whuffs a bit and folds her wings, craning her head to look at Ahiardhath. The words are treasured as an offering, collected and scattered in the skies of her mind as a constellation to be viewed at all hours of the day, for all eternity - or until she forgets. "Aye, Sir," is promptly directed to A'kehm after and Ulrika stands at attention, with Theidith shifting in her position to better watch Kazuth and send out her vines and tropical bouquets of encouragement.

"Sir," Do'rn says as he gives Kazuth a silent command. The young dragon eagerly launches upward, wings snapping with each beat up into the air, « It will be good when we are both up here, » Kazuth comments, perhaps his words are a little more widely broadcast than he intended. Do'rn watches his bronze, anxiety warring with pride, "Oi, Kaz, not too far up. I got to keep you in sight!"

"Aim for that marker, there, Kazuth! Guess I should have mentioned that before." A'kehm points to a designated spot in their section of the bowl shaped like a circle in white lime powder. And just in case Do'rn needs a visual, A'kehm is profusely pointing. « Relax and propel yourself in even strokes, young dragon. » Ahiardhath's horsehead fiddle pulls one note and it reverberates through impressionable minds, a second time. A low bass metronome to find an inner cadence.

Theidith lends her own encouragement to Kazuth, though she is restrained from the kind of encouragement that might get the bronze in trouble - much as she might want to see him fly as high as he can! « Yes, brother! It will be glorious. Soon! » So it goes, for now; the gold fighting the urge to prance in place, while Ulrika looks on, as still as a statue and, for now, just as quiet. She does make note of that spot, at least, and silently reinforces its importance to her lifemate - and can only hope that she will comply with it.

Kazuth's wings beat a steady rythm as he heads towards the indicated marker. Do'rn watches and waits, when Kazuth reaches the marker his mists of his mindscape clears showing the snow capped mountain in all its glory before he's starting back. The bronze's landing could have been less fall, and more land, but it does get the job done and practice will fix it eventually.

At second intervals, A'kehm's mental accuity all but takes over Ahiardhath's presence he routinely monitors the young bronze for signs of weakness, tendon strain, muscle tears, Legionnaire's disease, whatever. Kazuth knows the mark, conducted a satisfactory first landing, and is headed back to their starting point. "Back up everyone, just in case." A'kehm lifts his dominant hand and waves it backward. How insulting to be injured without even having yet flown. « Good horizon orientation. » Ahiardhath lauds Kazuth, his throat latch pulsing from a dull thunder of triumph. "Alright," A'kehm pulls on the end of his beard as he selects Theidith next. "Ulrika, the sky is yours. Well, indirectly." He connects the young gold to a patch of the atmosphere with a glance's fine line.

Praises are rained down on Kazuth, of course - and literally, in the case of Theidith's mind. Sweet, sweet nectar is offered to her clutch-brother upon his safe descent. "Understood, Sir," is Ulrika's acknowledgement and confirmation. When she's called next - if indirectly - Theidith steps forward a pace or two, finding a safe point from which to launch. And she's soon up, with Ulrika tracking her progress tightly. There's a tension in the goldrider that isn't present in the gold; of a tether being held, but which does not trouble the gold in the slightest. One flap. Two. And she'll take more, if she needs it, but she does have that circle in her sight.

Just before Theidith crouches to jump into the air, A'kehm sneaks a peak at Ginger's distant group and compares the progress of their groups thus far. Oh yeah, Team Kehm is way better. By then Theidith's already aloft and the bronzerider snaps his head back to his own charges. « Good posture, the tail is useful to steer. » A'kehm washes his breakfast on the hoof down with a waterskin and tracks the young queen faithfully.

And that tail will be quite useful, indeed; perhaps not so much right now, when it's just a straight flight to that point, but in the future. Theidith's shoulders are strong and her flight is sure and steady - but just as her enthusiasm for the air threatens to be too great, Ulrika sucks her teeth and tugs that mental tether, threatening to pull the gold up just short of the mark. Not quite, fortunately, but she does falter a bit, a stutter to her wingbeats that swiftly transitions into backwinging and an eventual, neat landing. One more beat would have carried her over the line, so perhaps that is best. « I will do better next time, » she promises, a rare, sheepish note ringing in her voice.

One of Ahiardhath's mental strings is plucked and the resonance lingers. « One day you will command the feat of flight but you may try again today, now fly back to them. » A'kehm looks back over at Ginger who's on her third session. Cheaters. Theidith's first landing was one of the best he's seen but praise remains dormant. Let Ahiardhath be the cheerleader among them. "The breeze has shifted slightly but that shouldn't effect her."

« Thank you, » gracious and grateful for the opportunity, with Theidith ducking her head to the older bronze. She turns and backs up a half-pace, head cocked as she considers the distance with a better sense of space and speed. Fortunately, she is not fueled by praise as others might be; it's just the desire to do better that pushes her. To her wings again, into the air, wingbeats better measured this time. Ulrika doesn't need to tug again, fortunately. "I reckon it wouldn't," the woman observes. "But she's still figuring out speed and angle," so far as she can tell, anyway. There's more to it than that, but she's no Harper - nor a physicist - and the words escape her.

If A'kehm were Ahiardhath he'd be scouring the dragons' minds for minutes signs of stress but the bronze asks for their status. « Let that taste of freedom be your hunger for greater learning. » A'kehm scratches at his scalp while his bonded waxes philosophical. "That part will come later. The groups will be drilling more and more frequently as the dragons gain in experience and stamina. Until their riders are ready to join them. B'taq," naming a wildling bluerider, "go." As Etionth relaxes his wings from his shoulders, "so, how was it?" A'kehm tries an iota of small talk with Ulrika until it's time to coach the next set.

More words of wisdom; more constellations to be hung in her mind's sky and reflected on the water and sea of foliage below. Theidith's gratitude is expressed not with words, but with a feeling that's entirely too large for words alone. She lands much as before, touching down with a surprising amount of delicacy; there's something to be said for all of those exercises she'd done before to bolster the strength of her wings before flight was on the menu. Her wings flex a final time, then fold to her back, while her regard shifts to the next dragon that prepares to go. Encouragements are offered as ever, of course, while Ulrika turns her attention to A'kehm with a slight tilt to her smile. "Aye, well. I reckon a Harper'd have an easier time of describing it," she determines, but her nose wrinkles in thought and she tries: "Not quite the same as actually flying with her," she can only imagine that! "but it felt good. To her, it felt right, if that makes sense, Sir." A beat. "Was it like that for you, too?"

A'kehm harsely squints at the appearance, finally, of Rukbat over the Weyr parapets. Like a cowboy facing a duelist at high noon. "Let harpers stick to their teaching ballads and pretty prose. You, you have better skills to hone." No offense R'zel. A'kehm wasn't harper taught and he turned out just fine. "Though I might arrange to have one teach you mob breathing exercises." And handwriting for any deviants. As Ulrika asks for his own experience as a weyrling, A'kehm flips his stance back on his heels, balancing for as long as he can on the boots' thin rim. "It had… purpose. And if you asked me, not quick enough. Dragons can fly soon after birth though no one wants them to. Whoa, up tilt, B'taq! That's- there." Etionth self-corrects and lands short of the mark but fully on all four feet. "When does your goldrider training start, any idea?" Specializing will happen, even to some of the brightest bronze and brownriders as they're reigned in for lessons in leadership.

There's a quirked brow for the breathing exercises, but Ulrika doesn't ask for elaboration. If it's a lesson, she'll be involved in it soon enough. She watches A'kehm from the corner of her eye, her attention more or less fixed on watching the blue in flight. "I reckon we're of one mind as that goes, Sir," she remarks with a flicked look to the gold that is, in turn, ready and raring for another go - and, failing that, cheering on those that have yet to go. "I reckon it would make sense to have them wait a month or two- but why not have them fly as soon as they can and build the muscle that way?" She sucks her teeth and falls silent as the blue's course is corrected and, ultimately, lands on all fours. "Not sure," says she of her goldrider training, though, "Probably after we've moved into our own weyrs and the firestone training starts." Another suck of teeth follows. "Not long." And not long enough. Politicking and hidework? She's definitely not looking forward to learning all of that.

Etionth elects to walk back to the group rather than fly and immediately A'kehm dials into Ahiardhath to find out why. « No injury. Not even lying about one. He says mastery will take time. » A'kehm, while thinking all the wildlings seem to wind up with overbearing dragons, triggers the next weyrling. "Bieliovrorth and Kama, Kami, yes. Your turn, to the white ring." Perfecting the tongue-twister brown but mucking up his rider's name. "Those of you who've already taken their turn can report to," are there any free assistants left? He trades proper name for location… "The barracks. And go fill your maws and give us some room." He half turns to Ulrika, having to halve his concentration, "not long at all. But not today and not tomorrow."

A brown is summoned next and Theidith briefly extends her muzzle to nose at a particularly antsy little green. Some words of reassurance are offered and the young gold moves away - not into the barracks, but at least far enough away that there will be room for others to fly without her gilded bulk sucking up the necessary space. Of course, if she's told to go by the bronze? She'll go without question. "Aye, Sir. I'll get something to eat, at least." Her stomach snarls a bit, as if to remind her that, yes, it is empty. "I reckon she'll want to stay out here and watch." Even if she's not due to fly again any time soon, the gold still enjoys being involved, somehow, even if it's just offering moral support to her fellows. And of the rest? There's a crooked grin and a nod. "Aye, not today and not tomorrow." There's flying to learn, then flying together, then the ugly work. With a final salute, the blonde ventures into the barracks.

If Ulrika's leaving Theidith, A'kehm will have her on loan a little while. "Weyrling." A'kehm attests to Ulrika's departure back to the barracks, both eyes on Bieliovrorth. "Does he have a sixth toe?" At least it doesn't hinder his flight…

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