Logs:First Manned Flight
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| RL Date: 15 May, 2007 |
| Who: P'draig, Illya, Zahava, Zi'ya, V'ryce, C'ael, Alakent |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Most of the Weyrlings do their first manned flight and start practicing formations in a group. Tension between Zahava and Illya continues. Azath's bad landing causes Zahava a minor injury that sends her to the Infirmary. |
| Where: Weyrbowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 1, Turn 12 (Interval 10) |
| Roughly half of the Weyrling class is assembling out in the Bowl in front of the Barracks. From behind them comes P'draig's voice: "... yes, come out in a few minutes, don't forget your straps. C'mon everyone, this is the fun part, getting to fly /together/ at last." The Weyrlingmaster emerges fully from the Barracks, hands propped on hips, a set of straps slung over his shoulders. Jekzith is already out in the tamped down snow, waiting with bright eyes and an air of barely contained excitement. Azath trots out of the barracks, ready strapped and practically bouncing with excitement. Her first few steps in the snow are quick, but she slows down placing each of her feet very slows so she can make the maximum footprint each time." Illya seems in less of a hurry to get outside, she looks quite pale and in her hands is a small bag. Coming to a stop next to Azath she gives a quick salute to P'draig, then sets about attaching the bag to Azath's straps. The other Weyrlings are in varying degrees of preparation, Tally's got straps on blue Sperth but hasn't fastened them up completely yet. She looks as excited as her blue does. Andamy and J'ffny don't have the straps on their dragons yet and Kassey's still trying to get Blyth to sit still long enough for her to finish buckling her up. "All right everyone!" P'draig's voice lifts up over the small crowd. "Get your straps on your dragon if you haven't already. If you're strapped up, do a safety check!" Y'var and Dorth come trotting out, breathless and a little late, the Weyrling's got straps slung over his shoulder and he hurriedly urges Dorth to a stop to start getting him ready. Ciath steps out of the Weyrling barracks. Ciath sets out across the northern reaches of the Bowl, towards the area around the junior and senior queens' weyrs and the Hatching Ground. Illya attaches the bag, steps back and frowns, then moves the bag higher up on the strapping -- something that requires Azath to bed down quite a bit. Once the bag's settled to her liking she begins to go over the straps, tugging eah on in turn and pausing for a reply from the little green. Azath's excitement seems to be building with every twitch of the straps, and she shuffles her feet in the snow causing little snowdrifts around her talons. Zahava steps out of the Weyrling barracks. Zahava and Ciath emerge from the barracks together and then part ways, the young dragon taking flight and veering off towards the east and the distant Weyrleaders' Ledges where she lands on her mother's ledge, the woman walking out across the bowl by her own power. Zahava begins the half-mile trip southeast, towards the center of the bowl. Alakent walks over from the center of the bowl. P'draig walks over to Illya and Azath since they're all strapped up. "Ready to go, Illya?" he inquires, giving Azath's setup a once over. Y'var's still struggling with Dorth's straps, though the rest of the group have caught up and the dragons are at least strapped up, safety checks in progress. Illya doesn't look too confident, but she nods. "I think we're fine, so long as it doesn't start snowing again. She has a tendency to try to catch the snowflakes on her tongue." Azath shuffles her feet once more, this time deliberately digging a little trench in the snow. Alakent is positively giggling as he crosses the snow, bending over to take the white stuff in his hands, forming it into a ball. Blinkblink. Oh, people. He offers a wave to the others, curiously moving over, "I've been waiting all turn for snow!" "All right, then Azath, no snowflake-catching for this first time up with Illya on your back, got it? When you get used to it all, /then/ you can." P'draig winks at Illya and moves on to check in with each of the other Weyrlings. "Looking good," he says to Tally, stops to help Y'var turn one of the straps on Dorth back around the right way, then turns as Alakent arrives. "And we've had plenty for you for weeks, Alakent. Is it all you'd hoped it'd be?" He grins and returns the stablehand's wave, then steps back and clears his throat. "All right, each of you, mount up when you feel ready and then you'll take turns crouching, taking off and doing a circle around the Bowl and coming in to land. Jekzith and I will demonstrate." Azath turns her head as she hears Alakent, warbling a cheery greeting in his direction before crouching down so that Illya can mount. Illya takes a moment to nod to Alakent, but it's pretty clear she's distracted for the moment. Slowly and carefully she scrambles up onto Azath's neck. Glancing down she seems unhappy with something and slides back tot eh ground for a moment. Detatching the small bag from the straps she mounts once more and this time tucks it into the straps in front of her. "It's certainly /cold/! I'm about ready to head back to ista." he wrinkles his nose as he fingers the substance, letting the snow drop to the ground and wrapping his arms about his chest. "Flying all ready? Shards, she's huge." He murmurs, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Sharding cold." "Cold indeed," says P'draig with a grin for Alakent as he heads over to Jekzith and vaults up into the straps, makes a show of clipping in. "Want to come up for a ride?" he offers to the stablehand. "We're just going around the Bowl to demonstrate for the Weyrlings. It's a different view of the snow." "Actually she's very small." Illya replies, though for once there's little trace of sarcasm -- she seems quite pleased of the fact. Straps are double and tripple checked again now that she's settled, and she barely reacts when Azath shuffles sideways dragging a little trail in the snow. Alakent wrinkles his nose as he clears his throat, "Come up? Sure, I wouldn't mind a ride, even if it's a quick one." He moves over to P'draig, "I've never seen so much snow, not really sure I like all the white." He turns to Illya, shrugging, "She's grown since I last saw her, that's for sure." P'draig leans down to give Alakent a hand up. "C'mon up behind me and clip in," he looks around at the group, some of the Weyrlings are stamping their feet with cold. "Go ahead and mount up, it'll be warmer a-dragonback. Illya nods to Alakent. "She does that, but she'll stop soon." Azath takes another sidestep, dragging one foot along in the snow, then begins to move backwards still dragging that one foot. Illya shivers slightly, "Will we be getting leathers soon? I think it's actually colder here than on the ground, sir." Alakent smiles happily as he takes the offered hand, pulling himself up onto the dragon's back and settling in. He absently moves to fiddle around with the straps, securing himself in. "I hope so, I'm not used to such cold weather." P'draig turns a little to help Alakent get strapped in. "You can get spares from stores Illya until they finish weavering up your individual sets," the Weyrlingmaster calls down and then gives the stablehand a brief word of warning and Jekzith takes off, circling the Bowl slowly. Illya nods, making a mental note to do that as soon as possible. As Jekzith takes off Azath finally stops dead in her tracks, the pattern she was drawing in the snow completely forgotten. Her head tilts upwards, following Jekzith's path, and she begins to shuffle her feet in nervous anticipation. Enjanth steps out of the Weyrling barracks. C'ael steps out of the Weyrling barracks. Alakent snaps his eyelids shut as the dragon suddenly takes off into the air, but the momentary surprise wears off after a moment and he's soon leaning over the dragon trying to get a better view of the ground below, "It looks so much different up here! Everything's /white/. No color at all." "Yep, white everywhere notes P'draig as Jekzith makes the slow easy round and then swings in for a landing, sending little gobbets of snow flying. "All right then, who wants to go first?" He looks around at the waiting Weyrlings with a jaunty smile. C'ael doublechecks he's settled in tightly. No loose straps. Enjanth trembles slightly beneath him, eager to show his stuff in the air. While Azath may be ready to try, Illya is hesitant and does not offer to go first -- in fact she point across at Tally as if volunteering her instead. Azath bespoke Jekzith with « 's touch trembles with excitement. « I want to dance with the bits that fall. Will they fall when I go up? » » C'ael reluctantly, or so it seems, raises his hand. He's willing to go first. After all, what is the worst that can happen? Besides faceplanting in the bowl and embarassing himself and Enjanth. Alakent pouts ever so slightly when the dragon makes its landing, pulling at the straps holding him on absently. He turns to eye the weyrlings, arching a brow, "Can't believe they're flying all ready, last I knew they were smaller than me!" He shakes his head, moving to slip from the dragon's side and onto the ground again. "'spose I'll get back to work." Zi'ya steps out of the Weyrling barracks. Gryth steps out of the Weyrling barracks. P'draig covers a grin as he unclips from Jekzith's straps at Illya's reticence. "Need a hand down?" he asks Alakent as he gets back down to the ground himself. "All right, C'ael, Enjanth, go ahead, crouch, leap, take off, and once around the Bowl!" Alakent shakes his head as he manages to get to the ground, dusting the snow off his clothes. "No, I'm all right, thank you for the ride, it was fun." He smiles absently up to P'draig, moving to shuffle away. The stablehand offers a quick look to the weyrlings before scuttling off quickly. Alakent begins the half-mile trip southeast, towards the center of the bowl. Enjanth quivers as he crouches, his haunches showing the slick lines of muscle beneath the hide. At C'ael's urging and P'draig's bidding, he leaps into the air, using his outspread wings to catch at the air and carry himself and his rider into the air. Flight with a rider isn't quite the same as by himself, though! There is quite a bit of wobble to Enjanth's fight around the bowl, though by halfway around he's righted himself into steadiness. Illya isn't first. Her slump of relief is almost exaggerated, and she leans herself against Azath's neck as the green watches Enjanth take off. Illya sits back a little as the brown wobbles in the air, but tries her best to look uninterested. Zi'ya has been here the whole time, quietly waiting patiently for his turn. He grins when C'ael takes flight with Enjanth, supressing a small cheer. Jekzith> I bespoke Enjanth with « Get a good amount of speed going right at the beginning that can help with the wobble. » P'draig watches closely from the ground as C'ael and Enjanth take their turn around the Bowl. Jekzith sits up on his haunches once Alakent's safely down and the Weyrlingmaster gives a wave as the stablehand moves off. "That's it," he murmurs as Enjanth comes around. "And now back down ..." Enjanth has caught onto this flying this on the back round of the flight. Catching himself a great bit of air he comes to a (mostly) graceful landing not too far from where he took off. Gracefull, that is until the couple running steps it takes to stop. He almost faceplants in the dirt. Almost, but catches himself before disaster asserts itself. C'ael, for his part gives a whoop of excitment. "We did it!" P'draig waits until the pair are well down, then walks over. "Okay, good job, now give Enjanth a once over." He turns and nods at Zi'ya and Gryth. "Want to go up next? Everyone'll take a turn around the BOwl and then after that I'll group you up and we'll do some group takeoffs and landings." Illya applauds politely for C'ael as Enjanth comes down safely. Leaning forwards once more she whispers somethign to Azath and tehn goes back to waiting -- if anything she looks paler now than when she first came out. As Zi'ya is called forwards she looks in his direction and nods slightly. Zi'ya grins. "You bet I do!" he says with a smile. "You ready there Gryth?" he asks the dragon who just turns and gives his rider a look that says, 'I've been ready since I hatched, what took /you/ so long?'. Zi'ya grins and climbs up onto the large dragonette's back. He catches a movement out of the corner of his eye and grins back at Illya. He glances down at P'draig. "You gonna give us a signal or do we just... take off?" he asks. "Just go when you're ready," says P'draig with a brief wave and then steps over by Illya. "Everything okay here?" he asks in an undertone. Tally's starting bounce a bit impatiently atop Sperth, clearly wanting to get the first takeoffs over with. Zi'ya climbs up onto Gryth's neck. C'ael slips from his perch on Enjanth and, as bid, checks his dragonet over. Gryth needs no more than the weyrlingmaster stating they can take off at will when the pair leap into the air. They are more steady than Enjanth and C'ael were and they take a slow even glide around the bowl. The landing is also smooth as the pair return to their take off spot. Zi'ya lets out a loud "Whoop!" as they arrive safely back on the ground. "That was fantastic!" he beams. Illya nods down at P'draig. "Oh yes, just cold. But we're fine, aren't we? Absolutely fine." She's babbling, babbling with Illya tends to mean not fine. Zi'ya climbs down from Gryth's neck. P'draig reaches up to give Illya's ankle a gentle pat. "You'll be fine. Promise. Though if you want, Jekzith and I can fly along with you. Just in case." He steps away from the green enough to pump a fist Zi'ya's way. "Good job you two, that looked nice and smooth. See how Gryth did that?" he notes to the rest of the class. "He made sure to get enough lift, then let the glide carry him. All right. ILlya, Azath, up you go." Zi'ya slips from Gryth's back, beaming. "Go on Illya! You two can do it!" he offers, buouyed by his own well recieved flight. He grins at P'draig. Illya takes a long, deep, breath. Almost before she's ready Azath begins to run along in the snow, wings flaring out behind her. Another step, then another, then she jumps. Wings catch in the air and the pair lifts, and as another flap takes them even higher Illya leans forwards to pat Azath gently on the neck -- or at least that's what it looks like from one side. She stays sat forward for perhaps a moment too long to be just being affectionate before Azath begins her descent. With a couple of hops the green once more touches down and begins to trundle her way back to the others. Now Illya has stopped looking pale, she looks green, and the bad she's attached to her straps looks rather more full than it had previously. Zi'ya grins until he spots the color of Illya's face. "Oh... oh dear..." he murmurs, but he keeps his place, letting P'draig deal with this one. Ciath comes along the wall from the east. P'draig beams as Illya and Azath return. "There you go! Good job." He pointedly ignores the fact that Illya needed to make use of her barf bag en route. "All right then, next!" The rest of the Weyrlings each take their turn without mishap, the last to go Y'var and Dorth who have the most spectacular landing of the bunch, sliding into a stop and throwing up a wave of snow that pelts some of the others with flying half-frozen bits. "Grah," says the Weyrlingmaster as one of these hits him. Zi'ya heads in Illya's direction as the others take their turns. "You alright there?" he asks her with a grin. His causal comments are cut short though as a pile of snow comes pelting at him. "Ack!" he shouts, holding his arms up in front of his face. "Nice..." he smirks. Illya stays sitting in place on Azath's neck, slumping slightly forwards after P'draig's cheerful praises. Studiously she makes sure she can't see anyone else in the group, even those who pass up above, though Azath watches each one in turn. As Zi'ya speaks she suddenly sits up, "I'm fine, why shouldn't I be?" And then comes the ice wave and she silently praises Dorth for his timing. From across the bowl, Ciath launches off of her mother's ledge, pale wings beating as she carries her rider back towards the barracks. Her landing is neat, requiring only one extra beat of her wings as her feet settle to keep her balance. She lands well outside the space that the other weyrlings occupy, turning to look at them curiously as her rider moves to unbuckle from the straps and slip down to the ground. Zahava climbs down from Ciath's neck. V'ryce steps out of the Weyrling barracks. Loketh steps out of the Weyrling barracks. P'draig brushes scattered snow off of his shoulders and fishes a bit out of his hair. "Whoa there, Y'var. Okay, you and Tally and J'ffyn, group up and you'll work on take off and landing. I want you to pay close attention to Tally and Sperth in your group. Tally's in charge, okay?" The Weyrling nods sheepishly, eyes a bit rounded at the mess he's made. "All right then ... Zi'ya, Illya and ... Zahava, welcome back. Hope it all went well with Jenna. Join up and the three of you practice group takeoff with a particular focus on gliding." Zi'ya glances at Illya, giving her a skeptical look then grins at Zahava's return. "Hey there Za!" he calls cheerfully. "Nice landing you had there." he smiles at her. There's a nervous glance between Illya and Zahava, but then he shrugs his shoulders and nods for Gryth to head towards the indicated spot. P'draig wanders over to Illya again and he doesn't say anything, but he passes something to the Weyrling greenrider discreetly, before heading off to intercept V'ryce and Loketh. "Greetings slowpoke," he teases. "Ready to mount up?" Illya senses "P'draig slips you some ginger-mint tabs, commonly meant to help settle an upset stomach. Apparently, Illya's not the first, nor probably the last to get airsick on first flight." Illya makes a point of not looking towards Zahava at all, even Azath for once is deliberately ignoring the gold pairing. The two head over to join Zi'ya, pausing only as P'draig passes, then taking up position on one side of the bronze pairings. Slowly, and with very little success in concealing the action, Illya puts somethign in her mouth and then looks back to P'draig with a faint smile. V'ryce appears from the Barracks as fast as Val can run, Loketh preceeding him easily since all the bronze has to do is fly. Panting, the young man snaps a salute to Paddy as he pulls up, taking time to get his breath back while Lo' rustles his wings impatiently. Zahava salutes P'draig as he addresses her, nodding confirmation of his his words, but that's about when his group assignment sinks in and she falters, a look of dismay flitting across her face. Open-mouthed for a moment, she stares at Illya before heading reluctantly towards the other two weyrlings, the opposite side of Gryth from Illya. Zi'ya catches sight of P'draig's handoff to Illya but says nothing. He smiles at Zahava and takes a step towards her to whisper something then, there's a wave in Val's direction before climbing atop Gryth. "You two mind if I take the lead on this on?" he asks them, hoping that if perhaps he does so he might be able to keep some sense of peace in the group. Illya simply shakes her head to Zi'ya, chewing on something and not quite willing to trust her voice. Azath shuffles her feet nervously, head drifting to the side occasionally then snapping back as she glances a glimpse of gold and remember they're not talking. His breath back, Val looks around to his companions, and spies the 'problem.' Ah yes, a green and a gold one. A smile for Zil and Za, a more reserved nod for Illya and all V'ryce can do is stand ready next to Loketh, who offers a soft croon to everyone. "All right then, Zi'ya, you're leading your group, Tally you're leading yours. Form up in an arrow formation like we do in ground drills. Take off together, do a round of the Bowl, land together. That's it. Jekzith and I will keep an eye on you." P'draig jerks a thumb at Loketh. "Ready to hop aboard and give this a try, V'ryce? Straps all ready?" Zahava shoots a look over at Illya at Zi'ya's whisper, then gives him a shrug. She steps over to Ciath, reaching up a hand for the gold's straps. Ciath, for her part, seems unconcerned about the triad she's been assigned to, fidgeting with energy. Zi'ya nods. "Ok guys. I'll signal and we all take off together, ok?" he asks, raising an arm in preparation. He glances over his shoulder at each of them for a moment, sure they are both ready. With a mental and physical signal he pumps his arm down at the same moment Gryth informs Ciath and Azath to take off. Gryth, moments later, is in the air. Zi'ya glances around to see if the others follow him. Illya's face set in a look of sheer determination, and on the signal Azath leaps skywards before snapping her wings out to take them in a gentle glide. Illya's expression stays fixed even as the colour drains from her skin, but she stays resolutely upright with her eyes fixed straight ahead. V'ryce gives a sneaky smirk, nodding to P'draig. "Mhm, more than ready, sir." Loketh's already crouching down deeply, snorting at his rider as if to say, 'Hurry up, already.' The first thing Val does is check all the fastens of the straps, though, tugging and testing before he climbs aboard. Strapping himself securely into jingling buckled straps, he double checks them too. Loketh stands tall on all fours, both he and his rider waiting for the signal. There seems to be some sort of issue with Zahava and Ciath, the former frowning down at the gold from her spot on her neck, the latter rumbling irritatedly, evidently refusing to take flight with the other two. It's not until the gold turns her head towards Locketh and V'ryce that the impasse seems to shift and she spread her wings to take flight after the other two she's supposed to be flying with. Thus the glide does not begin at once, having first to catch up to them before she can catch the wind on still wings. P'draig gives V'ryce a short salute. "All right then," the Weyrlingmaster steps back well out of the way. 'Take off, glide around the Bowl and land." A frown builds up on P'draig's face though as he notices Ciath's reticence and his eyes go vague for a moment. Jekzith> Ciath senses that Jekzith touches minds gently. « What is the matter Ciath? » Zi'ya is about to smile when he spots Illya and Azath in formation, but he frowns with Ciath is behind, not with the group right away. He makes note of that before turning the group, gliding for a few more moments before signaling them to land. "Ok guys, that was good, but let's try it once more, ok? See if we can all get off together." he says, not placing blame. Azath lands with her head held high, and trots around in a little circle before once more taking her place beside Gryth. A rogue snowflake is snapped at, but on the whole she seems happy. Illya looks slightly green, though not as bad as before, and quickly puts something else in her mouth -- an action she doesn't try to disguise thie time. She doesn't say anything, but as Azath takes her place once more there's a definite smirk on her face. V'ryce gives Paddy another salute, Loketh spreading his wings wide. Val braces himself quite obviously, and with hard downstrokes, the bronze lifts the pair skyward. Snow whorls beneath Loketh, the white stuff left behind as he gets comfortable altitude. The bronze proceeds to van almost lazily about the Bowl, his glide more of a soar, except for a few random flaps to hold his sky. All too soon, he's back above the group, waiting patiently for the triad to land, then gliding down with not a hitch, to backwing and send skiffs of snow in the air. Val grins widely, slapping Loketh on the ridge before him, the bronze warbling happily as he stills, retracting his wings to his back. Jekzith senses that Ciath's response is a muddle of pleasure at flying and amusement over something undefined, threaded through with a touch of rebellious ill-content, « I ought to be in front. I don't wish to follow Gryth. » Ciath ends the flight with the others in her group, though there is something business-like about it, folding her wings and turning briskly about to face the same way as the green and bronze. "Good job V'ryce, Loketh, okay, join up with Zi'ya, Illya and Zahava, and make it a diamond formation." He walks back a few steps, nodding to Zi'ya. "All right, try it again, but swap up leaders, it's up to the four of you to pick." He reorganizes Tally's 'wing' too and then perches on Jekzith's forelimb to observe. Jekzith> Ciath senses that Jekzith returns the sending, echoing the amusement, but not the mal-content. « When we're weyrlings, we take turns doing lots of things. Including leading. You'll get a turn. When you are full grown though, we'll all look to you. » Zi'ya nods and Gryth gives way without much complaint. There's a rumbled greeting to Loketh as he joins their group. "Why don't we let Illya give it a try." he offers, not likely the smoothest move, but he is trying to help meld their group. He looks skeptically at Zahava then a glance to Illya and one grin back to Val. Illya shakes her head, "I think V'ryce should go next. He's more likely to be a wingleader in the end." Azath takes a step forwards, but somethign passes between Illya and the green and the forwards step is turned into a quick turn instead. V'ryce grins to Paddy, giving him an exuberant salute, then having Loketh waddle over to the group of three. The only slightly smaller bronze chuffs a greeting to Gryth, eyes looking at both females present. Both Val and Lo' seem to wait patiently as the other Weyrlings sort things out, a faint smirk touching the rider's handsome features as he waggles brows at Zi'ya. A look of slight shock follows Illya's announcement, Val then making a small face. "Mmf, Faranth forbid," he grunts. Loketh seems to like the idea, however, giving a warble and a wiggle. P'draig doesn't interfere in their discussion though he's not far off, observing the group, waiting to see how they sort things out. The other set of Weyrlings have settled on Y'var to lead this time and are fixing to get aloft already. Zahava presses her lips together for a moment, giving Zi'ya a look, though she utters no complaint. Ciath snorts sharply, wings rustling as she shifts to make room in the formation for a fourth. Zahava shoots a surprised look towards Illya, herself, eyebrows arching. Zi'ya shrugs. "Suit yourself. But greens can be wingleaders too." he says simply. To Zahava he offers a warm smile, despite the look sent in his direction. He takes up a spot wherever the pair winds up and nods to V'ryce. "All yours then buddy!" he grins. Jekzith senses that Ciath rumbles softly, then announces with beneficence, « I suppose /they/ must learn to lead. » Likely the thought came from someone else, but she's adopted it as her own. « They will need to know, too, perhaps. » V'ryce gives a shrug, nodding at Zil, then directing Loketh to the 'fore of the rest. "Mm, okay, but I do it under protest," Val murmurs. "Mhm, greens are quite capable of being Wingleaders, Illya. I think all of us should take a turn in the lead, no matter," he adds as Loketh settles in the forward point of the diamond. Val brings his arm up in preparation for the order, looking back to see eveyone's in proper formation. Illya simply shrugs at the mention of green wingleaders. It's pretty clear she wants to add something else, but doesn't for the time being. Instead she urges Azath forwards to take up a place in the diamond, then gives Val the ready signal. Zahava turns Ciath to take the pace at the back of the diamond as the formation shuffles about to put Loketh at the fore. After a moment, she unfurls her wings, ready to take flight with the others this time, perhaps. Zi'ya looks somewhat uncomfortable, but he nods to V'ryce, signaling he is ready to take off. There's a glance to the two females in the group and he sighs. "All ready." he murmurs, likely not loud enough to be heard by either of the other two. V'ryce looks decidedly uncomfortable, but gets it over with. Once he's satisfied everyone else is ready, he gives the pump down of his arm, fist closed - while sending the order to rise to Loketh. The bronze sends the same to his clutchsibs, and hopefully, the all rise in that diamond together. Azath gets the order and leaps up once more, wings snapping out to catch the air as she glides forwards. Illya stays silent, pale, but resolutely upright. Ciath is right with the others this time, evidently having worked out her issues by now. She vaults skyward with a mighty sweep of her wings and settles into the glide, careful not to ride up to close on Azath's tail with her greater wingspan. Gryth is also in the air, on time, with the others, though there is a slight wobble this time, perhaps because of his riders misgivings about... something. Either way it's quickly gone and the pair are gliding in formation as if nothing had happened. V'ryce keeps looking over his shoulder with an expression torn between optimism and hesitation, relaxing once things seem to stay in order. Val gives Loketh the directions for bringing the gliding formation about as all of the pairs continue out, then back towards their point of origin. Soon enough, the diamond must descend, Val's arm again giving the signal to land. Loketh glides on a downward plane, then backwinging, landing almost in the exact spot he took off from at the fore of the diamond. Azath slides slightly on landing sending up a wave of snow as she tries to compensate. On her back Illya clings on as if her life depended on it, and once that pair have come to a full stop she unbuckles herself and swings down. "I think we're done for now." She moves out of the group, a slightly confused Azath following after her. "I think she strained something when we landed." P'draig comes over as the wing sets down. "Good teamwork," he says emphatically, noddding at each of the Weyrlings and meeting eyes briefly, though he slips between the larger dragons to approach Azath. "A limb or a wing, Illya?" Ciath flaps heavily as she lands, distracted by Azath's skid enough to make her landing a bit clumsy, though she keeps her feet. Zahava, however, wasn't ready for it and gets tossed forward to knock her sternum into Ciath's ridge. Wincing, she sits up, hand going to her chest as she looks towards Illya and Azath. Zi'ya grins. "Well... that went better than expected...." he ponders, though likely not loud enough to be heard. He glances in Illya's direction, but lets P'draig ask the questions. He looks slightly concerned but the stumble from Ciath has him snapping his head in that pair's direction. "Za... are you ok?" he asks, his voice colored with concern. V'ryce groans softly, but nods to Illya and Azath. "Have her looked at right away, Illya. Mmf, I guess that part's some of the Wingleader stuff about being responsible for your wingmates," he temporizes. A sympathetic wince for Zahava's sternum-knock, his own hand rising to his chest to rub. Yeah, been there, suffered that. "Right foot." Illya replies, leading Azath away from the others. She flinches slightly as Zi'ya seems more concerned about Zahava, but V'ryce's words receive a slight smile. "I'll take her inside if you don't mind, Sir." The latter comment is directed solely at P'draig. P'draig's head swivels towards Zahava and he makes a wincing face too. "Please do, Illya, have S'kris take a look at her foot. He's still leading the formations lecture. We'll swap out with that group when they're done. You're excused from afternoon drills." He gives the Weyrling a light clap on the shoulder and then moves back towards Ciath. "You all right, Zahava? Do you need to go to the Infirmary?" Illya tosses Zahava a glare for stealing her sympathy, and leads the still confused Azath inside. V'ryce gives Illya a weak smile and a wave as she departs with Azath, then looking at P'draig pointedly. 'Here, the reins are yours,' his gaze seems to say, then shifting over to Zil again. Zahava waves her hand, catching Illya's glare and sighing. "No, I'm fine," she assures, her tone almost impatient. "Just hit the same spot I bruised that way the other day. It's fine." Zi'ya glances towards Illya, frowning for a moment before he turns his attention back to Zahava. "Well..." he says, apparently at a loss for words. "You sure there Za?" he asks, still looking worried about her. P'draig offers a hand up to Zahava. "C'mon down all right. I think you should get it checked anyway, especially if you bumped it yesterday. That sort of bruise can build up." He looks around at the other two. "D'you want to run one more, fall in with Tally, J'ffryn and Y'var and do a slightly more complex arrow formation?" Zahava's forehead furrows but she doesn't offer further argument, unbuckling and climbing down to take the offered hand and hop the rest of the way to the ground. V'ryce appears a touch concerned about Za, too, looking down at the woman for a few moments, then nodding to Paddy. "Mm, I guess so, sir." Zi'ya frowns, as Zahava gets down from Ciath's back, but the offer from P'draig gets a nod. "Sure. I could do that." he says, though he seems more concerned about his fellow weyrlings than interested in joining the others who seem to be doing fine. "All right then, form up in a double arrow and run it with V'ryce leading this time." The other Weyrlings look about as thrilled to have their cozy trio crashed, but there you go. Dragonriding is all about teamwork. In a quieter tone of voice, P'draig addresses Zahava. "Can you take a deep breath without pain, Za?" V'ryce groans softly as he's put in charge again, trying to hide his disapppointment. Giving a soft sigh, he directs the other trio over, having the happy Loketh pad over into the point spot. "Mm, okay, form up into a double arrow, please, everyone," he murmurs, sounding generally unenthused. "It's a bruise," Zahava says dryly, shaking her head. "They'll look at it, agree that it's a bruise and tell me to put on some more of the bruise balm I've already got in my trunk. Go practice." The latter part of this she directs at Zi'ya and V'ryce with a glance at both of them before she turns back to P'draig. She takes a breath and lets it out. "Just a little ache," she says quietly. Zi'ya frowns then turns to the other weyrlings with a grin. "Alright then..." he says and finds a spot in the group, though Gryth seems to need a bit more space in the formation making ever so slightly lopsided. P'draig ignores Val's less than enthusiastic response, though he does cast a glance towards the group to make sure they're forming up as asked. Still in that quieter tone, he nods at Zahava's response. "All right, I definitely want you to get that checked out, Za, just in case. It shouldn't even ache, sounds like the bruise probably goes down to the bone. It's a common enough injury during the start of manned flying. Ciath'll get better at landings, or you can put on a couple of extra layers of sweaters to help cushion things." He lets her hand go then and nods towards the formation. "Watch this one and we'll get you back up there tomorrow. Give the bruise a rest for now." V'ryce makes certain everone is where they should be, checking his straps once again. Finding all's in order, he has Loketh relay the signal to the other dragons, just as he pumps his fist to the air in signal to ascend. Loketh give a huge downbeat of patinaed wings, sending him smoothly skyward. Zahava frowns slightly but nods. "Alright," she agrees. After a beat, she changes that to a "Yes, Sir. She usually does pretty well, and all, just, with Azath slipping..." Her lips press together for a moment as she shoots a glance towards the barracks where the green weyrling has gone to. Gryth is in the air right in time with the formation, though weather the others are there with him has yet to be seen. Zi'ya is still reveling in the thrill of riding on Gryth's back. The formations, having been practiced on the ground for so long, seem to come easily to the pair. Enjanth holds his place in the formation, though he seems to be snapping at the bit, so to speak. C'ael steadies the brown, keeping him in line as they go aloft and follow V'ryce's lead. P'draig clears his throat. "You said you got a bruise there the other day though," he reminds gently. "It's not just from today and it's the repeat injury I'm most concerned about, not just today's. I'll come talk to you later about Azath and her rider." V'ryce seems to be taking the basic flying portion of this exercise all in stride, and Loketh nearly warbles with joy to be aloft. Val keeps rubbernecking to check on the formation, asking Loketh to have one blue pair adjust some and keep tighter. Finally the formation of two arrows wheels about, heading towards 'home,' and Val gives a twisted frown when things seem to bobble a bit, the neat formation losing its crispness on the edges. Zi'ya does what he can to keep from stepping on Val's toes, but he keeps Gryth sending Loketh pictures of the formation so he can make any needed adjustments, unconciously taking on the wingsecond position. Gryth, for the most part, is able to stay in formation, except when the dragon in front of him starts to lag a bit, causing the larger dragon to drop back to keep a safe distance from them. Enjanth lazily holds his position, taking to this formation flying almost without second though. C'ael looks to be more concerned about how they're doing, looking about the two of them to visually ascertain that they haven't slipped out of place, or blurred the edges. Jekzith> Loketh senses that Jekzith twitches an image of the formation from the ground up your way. « Dorth lags. He needs to pull in to make room for Gryth. » Unaware that he's likely echoing Gryth himself to the young bronze. « If you send them a picture before you turn, it helps them to stay in place when you do. » Zahava nods slightly. "I'll just put away her straps, then and go by the infirmary, then, Sir," she says, reaching up as Ciath crouches, to unbuckle the straps on both sides, gathering them over her shoulders. V'ryce is all too happy to have backup, the young man not being the sort to get prickly about that sort of thing. A grin back to Zil from Loketh's neck, and he nod his understanding as he gets the picture from Loketh. A rumble from the bronze has the formation carefully tightening up again, Val wanting no one to collide during such a simple exercise. Finally, on the last part of this pass, they seem to get it right, keeping the proper crispness of the formation. Sighing in relief, Val gives the signal to land, Loketh backwinging to do so with a lazy ease. "You can stay through the lesson if you like Zahava, but that's fine. We'll be doing a lecture on more advanced formations, trading off with S'kris' group, so the afternoon should be a lot less physically demanding. Let me know what the healer says, okay?" P'draig steps away from the goldrider then with an encouraging smile and returns to Jekzith's side, watching the formation coming down out of the air. Jekzith senses that Loketh rumbles with curiously at the image, giving a nod of jungle foliage. « I see that. Yes, it's a good idea. » Zi'ya grins at the back of V'ryce and Loketh and he and Gryth land easily with the formation, a silent encouragement sent to the group as they all seem to be fairly well in line at the practice. "Well done!" he grins to the others. Jekzith> Loketh senses that Jekzith re-orients his picture to one of the formation from above, not theirs specifically but generic dragonbacks flying as one. « It helps everyone to remember. Steal it from your rider's mind if he doesn't give it to you. » There's a sense of amused sneakiness in Jekzith's tone. Enjanth backwings, lowering down to the ground smoothly, his landing sure unlike earlier. C'ael beams, reaching down to pat the brown hide of his lifemate fondly and proudly. To the others he calls out, "Great job!" Fort weyrlings sense that Jekzith warmly, Jekzith forwards his congratulations. « Nicely done. If you tighten up a bit more next time, that will be just right. Mine asks me to tell you all that we can go inside now to warm up. Go get something warm to drink and then come to the Barracks for lecture! » V'ryce remains seated on Loketh's neck, giving a loud call and a huge grin to his fyling companions, then smiling down to the poor, bruised Zahava. "Meet you all in the Barracks!" he calls out, urging Loketh skyward once again, the bronze drifting on the air towards home. |
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