Logs:Hungry Baby Dragons
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 19 April, 2015 |
| Who: Ilicaeth, Edyis, Farideh, K'zin, Keysi, Laine, Quinlys, Leiventh, R'van, T'mic, Knioth, Reisoth, Niahvth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Happenings in the barracks as the new pairs trickle in. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Yesia/Mentions, Z'kiel/Mentions |
              |
>---< Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr(#395RAJs) >-----------------------<
Tucked off the back of the training room, the barracks are a huge, high
cavern that stretches far back into the stone of the Weyr. Both of the
longer walls are lined with couches for the dragons, enough for a couple
of Pass-sized clutches at once, each matched with a cot and press for the
weyrling dragonrider. In this day and age, however, the couches in the
back have been allowed to grow dusty with long disuse. Hearths are spaced
between every few couches to heat the big room.
For decoration, there are a number of tapestries on the walls, looking
almost as beat-up as the couches out in the training room, but scattered
flower pots with their bright blooming contents provide a cheery touch.
Additionally, some of the couches have had graffiti scratched into them
over the Turns that were never quite cleaned off: smears of chalk messages
or even rough pictures, some not fit for young eyes. In many cases names
and dates have been painstakingly carved into the rock, a record of those
that once made their home here. Edyis heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Akluseth heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Edyis stares at the brown, moving awkwardly over to where the food is. "Akluseth." She repeats as though uncertian she heard him the first time. "You ... Yes. I suppose you want food." Arrayed in the weyrling barracks ready and waiting for the new pairs coming off the sands are buckets upon buckets of pre-chopped meat in globules that shouldn't, shouldn't choke any of the dragonets. There's vats of oil and rags to help with egg goo and itching once that becomes a priority. There with other AWLMs is K'zin, helping direct the new pairs. "Edyis," his grin is huge as she comes off the sands. "Congratulations. And Akluseth?" He must have overheard. "The food's this way, make sure he chews." The bronzerider advises. Edyis seems a little shell shocked s she makes her way over to the bowl under K'zin's direction. "Make sure he chews..." She seems dubious looking at the brown, but she fishes out a squishy peice of flesh for him to consume. Hungry. Yesss. Akluseth is very hungry. He's also looking around. « Have you ever seen anywhere like this before? I mean, it's like that other place, » the one they came from, « only different. » His observations are brilliant. He seems excited though, a whole new world, and all right beyond the shards of his shell. « What's chewing? » That sounds important, especially since he can smell the meat now and it makes his hunger pangs a physical hurt. One he shares with Edyis, of course. (to Edyis) Edyis says, "Yes. I mean. I've been here before, but chew..." Edyis shares sensations with him, the way jaw and teeth work together to make food into something that won't choke him. If she's concerned about the brilliance of his observations it doesn't quite show in her thoughts or expression. "What was it like, in the other place?"" Oh, ho! Well, don't mind if he does! Akluseth isn't exactly dainty, but he does seem to innately know the difference between finger and flesh for eating, so at least he doesn't snap at those that aren't for that. Still, once the meat is in his mouth, and Edyis! Edyis! Edyis! It tastes so good, all bloody and meaty and, and yuuum, but what exactly is he supposed to be doing with it? Oh, oh! Chew. He tries it. It comes easy. What do ya know. It's like he was meant to do this! Meant to eat. Laine heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Lifreyth heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. K'zin is hopping-to, helping those pairs already arrived get to the meat first, and hovering nearby, but not too near as to take away from these first very personal moments between lifemates. As Laine arrives, he leaves a moment's conversation with another assistant to greet her grinning. "Laine, congratulations. Who do we have here?" His eyes on the brown accompanying her. "There's meat," lots of it, in fact, in chunks in buckets. And then there's oil and rags to deal with egg goo and itches when it becomes pressing. Edyis feels the first stirrings of a smile at that eagerness. Not quite so much for the sharing of the sensations though. She seems to grow more relieved as he eats, not entirely sure of wht to do with that salt water mind. She pushes at him in her thoughts tentatively testing that bond. Dark eyes lift as Laine enters with brown in tow. "Looks like we are all stuck together doesn't it. You did just make me a ton of marks." She calls over to Laine. Lifreyth trundles in after Laine, always, always staying in contact with his new found companion. For life. For LIFE! His creel now doesn't even try to be anything but pathetic. He is pathetic. And hungry and he is channeling this on all the nearby draconic mindwaves he can channel it too, meaning not too far, but quite loud in his needs. To Edyis, Akluseth giggles. He doesn't mean to. It's not a very manly sound, after all, but perhaps he can be forgiven as he is yet so very young. The pushing of the bond tickles, though. He returns the push in kind, almost a headbutt, but wait! He can do that outside of his head; it's better that way anyway. Mid-chew, Akluseth stops and butts his head against Edyis. Egg goo! Just for you! Laine is grinning. It's a smile that's sunnier than her Best Smile(tm) and bright, bright, bright as she and Lifreyth spill away from the business, the heat, of the hatching sands. She manages, "Li--Lifreyth. Lifreyth." Then that smile, if it were possible, stretches further, faltering only when she says, "He's hungry." But there's meat. Meat! Go to the meat. Lifreyth might eventually grow up to be a smart dragon, maybe even an insufferably intelligent one, but meat. He sees it, he scampers to it, just barely not tripping over his own limbs, and........ then stops. And sniffs. And looks generally confused. « Help? » "Help?" Laine blinks. And blinks again. "With food? You eat it--look," the tanner scampers forward, not unlike that little brown, and kneels beside him. She's not queasy about plunging her hands into that bucket of meat, and she produces a bloody handful for the brown. "Um, you, like-- eat it." She proffers it, dripping, to Lifreyth, and past the dragonet, Laine grins and grins at Edyis and Zadkiel. Oh, Joy egg goo. Despite the glopiness of him she finds herself feeding him another bite, and letting her free hand reach to scratch just under that jaw line. "He's lovely." She says for Lifreyth. "You still hungry Akluseth, or would you like to get clean. She glances then to Z'kiel, frowning only momentarily. Before dismissing the thought with an easy smile. Akluseth only acts like he considers. For Edyis' benefit. Food, definitely food. In point of fact, he'll help himself, by shoving his maw into the bucket. It's probably more efficient that way. Check it out Lifreyth! He chews. Eat it. Eat it. Right. Lifreyth noses what Laine offers, getting a smear of blood on his nose and then snaps at the tip before tugging it away from his rider. There's a playfulness in his actions, in spite of that constantly radiating emotion of hunger, and a devilish twinkle in his orange-tinged eyes. « Right then. Thank you. » He'll sit here, finish that piece, and then stick his head into that bucket on his own for more like a bear to a honey pot. Roszadyth heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Farideh heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Laine sinks to her knees, then, and then to her butt, tucking her feet under her as she scoots next to Lifreyth and the bucket, sloppier and bloodier by the minute. By the second. "Chew," she says faintly, pointing at her jaw and demonstrates: like this. "Don't forget. Ohhh," and she exhales, a breath she didn't know she was holding, and rests her head back against the wall. She's only got eyes for that brown, that devilish little brown. K'zin continues to hover nearby the Impressed pairs in case someone needs something, and one of the greens takes his attention for a moment. It's obvious, the moment of the Impression of the gold on the Sands. He pauses, his eyes lift a moment, and the something in his shoulders just relaxes. He grins to himself, more than to anyone and then moves to meet the pair as they're delivered by the Weyrlingmaster. "Farideh and Roszadyth," he greets them. "Food is this way," he gestures to where the other dragonets are clustered around the many buckets of chopped meat. There's oil and rags for the goo and the itches when they come. Devilishly charming brown. If only he could hear what she thinks, except, he can, and a cock-eyed smirk, if dragons are even capable of such demonstrations, seems to peek above the bucket as Lifreyth stares whirling, adoring eyes up at Laine. The food and the need to start chewing it dives him back into that bucket, an unwitting mimic of Akluseth, his brother at arms. T'mic heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Jorrth heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Edyis doesn't appear to even remotely understand what to do about the bucket. Maybe thatis why she doesn't miss Farideh's entrance with the steely gold. The grin that spreads is unmistkable. "If I said, I told you so, would you hit me?" she c alls to Farideh, grinning at Laine. Another smile is flashed at T'mic. « I have, » is radiant confirmation of what Roszadyth's already said as they leave the sands. She's content to share the tickled touch of hair ribbons caught in the breeze and the dappling of sunlight over curtains (and unwillingly her hunger) as they move to the barracks. Then, there's that man greeting them. Roszadyth seems unsure, even if he is directing them to food, « Is it... strange, that he knows me? Do I know him and only I don't remember? » There's quiet concern shared with Farideh over what might be a lapse; not even an hour old and is she forgetting things she ought not? (to Farideh) Her face might cleave in half, that smile is so wide. Laine's hand reaches out, tentative, that hovers just over his muzzle, as though she's afraid to actually lay her hand on him--but she does, fingers resting gently on those chestnut headknobs, as he eats. Farideh? Zadkiel? Edyis? Yesia? They all get washed in that beaming smile. Laine is, it seems, rendered speechless. Maybe for the first time in her life. R'van heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Keysi heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Vadevjiath heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Neianth heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Quinlys heads in from Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr. Jorrth wraps his tail snugly about his T'mic's foot. His. All his. Perhaps it's that everything is happening so fast and everything is so new, but Farideh looks particularly distracted, barely able to lift her concerned hazel eyes from Roszadyth's form. She lifts her head at K'zin's words, opening her mouth to speak, until her gaze drop back down to the petite gold. "No. He knows me, and now he knows you, only if you want him to know you," the brunette assures her new lifemate. She has a timid smile for the bronzerider, after. "She's hungry," is all she says as she follows his directing, to where there are buckets of chopped meat. Except, her nose scrunches up, and she looks from the bucket, to K'zin. Well? T'mic might have followed J'vain in, but he's not seeing much of anything except for that little blue, whom he's trying, really hard, not to step on or anything. And also not trying to disentangle too much. He's even still got a big mit on that little dragon's head. Dragon-rider pretzel. T'mic-Jorrth pretzel! "Jorrth." They can get food in a minute. Well. They can get food in a minute, only... Jorrth is hungry, and that hunger extends on a band wider than it ought; can't they all feel it now? Still: he's got his T'mic. That's a good start! She touches him, and he stills. Lifreyth's eyes close, the many lids fluttering shut. Oh. She is still his, always his. He moves, leaning upward into those fingers, shaking his head in such a way so that his actions force a rubbing motion against his headknobs. K'zin, having just met Farideh and her lifemate, turns toward the next (T'mic), and the next (R'van), and the next (Keysi), making gesture to all of them toward the buckets of chopped meat. "Food, oil, rags," he announces helpfully before realizing Farideh's looking his way. He makes a gesture. It's probably meant to encourage her to hand Roszadyth some raw meat. Bloody, delicious raw meat. Vadevjiath might be making the whole walking/moving thing difficult, what with his uneven gait kind of pushing Rafe towards the left as they go. In comes Rafe--R'van--still holding fast to Vadevjiath's ridges, his port in the storm of the hatching's aftermath. "I didn't really see a need," he tells the dragon dumbly. "And at any rate, I don't think raw meat keeps well in these occasions." Because logic is assured to work on hungry new dragonets. Keysi is moving, but not with her guarded facade. Her focus, all of it, is on the brown as they leave the boiling, stiffling heat of the sands towards what is promised to be food to control that hunger. She could have sworn she wasn't hungry before, but it doesn't matter now. Confidence still carries her, but she might just run into something, or someone, given she has no sight for what's in her path. K'del's words might make a dent. Might. "Neianth." Is uttered again. So meaningful. The hand that's not on Jorrth's head goes to his belly. It's still there, still kinda round. "Yeah." It's nodded to his little blue. He must've seen K'zin, somehow. Or maybe he's following the crowd. But look, buckets. Look, food, held out by that one hand, the other still where it was before. "Make sure to chew it." Beat. "Jorrth." Aww man, he's grinning again. Again. Vadevjiath might actually not care about logic that much. Particularly when -- he can smell some of that meat. Nevermind that it's Neianth's meat. Stolen booty is SO MUCH better than legimate, right? He strains in that direction, and even if he's comparable in size to his brown brethren, he isn't going to let that put him off collecting his loot! Neianth goes where there's the promise of food. He's hungry. Very little else matters right now. Except that Keysi is there. He looks to make sure, even after she says his name, then starts making his way toward one of those buckets that smell so good. Laine doesn't stop. By request. That hand begins to explore; experimental at first, and tentative, but first it's headknobs then it's down cup the brown's jaw--since he's fallen still, those gnashing teeth no longer a danger--then along neck and neckridges. Then there's that voice and it's Laine's turn to freeze: her hand falls away and she looks sheepish, murmuring, "Sorry. Are you still hungry?" So good. You guys. « So good. » Akluseth is thrilled. He feels so full. It's good for about ten whole seconds. And then... itches. « Edyis! » It's shocked, because... what? Does she feel it? He shares with her, in case she doesn't understand. He doesn't know what it is, but ... « Help? » Did he know he echoed Lifreyth's earlier request? No, but sometimes a guy needs a little help. "Uhhh, wait," says R'van, and does his best to put himself between Vadevjiath and Neianth then, one knee braced on the bronze's thin side. This may not be the wisest decision, getting between two dragons after the same meat. "You need your own. We'll get something that's better," he tells his own dragon, that uncertain edge in his own voice still. Jorrth can chew. Well... he's going to do his best, anyway. When he's not still butting his head against whatever part of T'mic he can reach. It's a... process? Roszadyth steps along with Farideh to the food. She looks from the meat to Farideh and from Farideh to K'zin, since that's where Farideh is directing her attention, and then back to the meat. She probably doesn't mean to take that step closer, only it just smells so good and her hunger is so great. « Farideh... » is apologetic, but urgent. She needs food. Please. Please. Vadevjiath gives R'van a look as he bodily intercepts. You know, the sort of look you get from your higher-ups when you done fucked up, son. T'mic can nod along with every time his little blue kind-of chews. "Good, that's good!" Okay, that last grin, it hasn't gone yet. And T'mic is still bent over awkwardly to keep in touch with Jorrth. He reaches for more meat, and sweeps a glance over that little blue. "Your feet are great." Jorrth is pretty pleased. Pretty much the most pleased anyone could ever be. « You're the best! » he tells T'mic, loud enough that his words spread. « The best, the best, the better-than-best. Can we go see things, soon? Please? » Maybe once his tummy is full. And, to be fair, it's hard to argue with that logic. R'van struggles not to quail before the expression on Vadevjiath's face. It's probably only the sense that losing this first important battle with the dragon will go poorly for him, that keeps him from stepping aside. "You split it, that's the deal. He already has his share. This is yours." And fortunately, somehow, he's got a bucket of meat in his own hands, and R'van pushes a piece of it at Vadevjiath to distract him. Keysi finds herself seated amongst others. Others who matter, perhaps, but that she's only periphereally aware of. It's the bucket that dictacted her position over company beyond the brown. Her scarred hand without fail delves into the juicy, slimey bucket partially emptied already by the pairings that got out first. The brown snatches the meet from her fingers almost before her hand is out of the bucket. Sooner, perhaps, if he was any bigger. There's a grumbling hiss that accompanies the gnashing of the perhaps larger than appropriate piece, but he's certainly unwilling to say so. That hunger. "Watch it." Words, only met with a single whirling eye angled upwards at her. « More. » That's it. That's all she gets. And it's not kept from the dragonets nearby either. T'mic takes in a quick intake of breath, and nods, emphatically. "Oh, I wonder if Mirna made it. She'd love you. They all would. Her and Romin 'special, though. Oh, and the kids." More meat, and then the sudden remembrance to remind, "Chew, though, okay?" Vadevjiath might not be the largest bronze, but it's not that hard to look intimidating when you have sharp claws, and pointy teeth, and you're hungry, and someone's denying you all that glorious, glorious... oh look. Ok, so maybe the bronze will concede -- just this once, ok? Only because it's right there, and, well. Inhaling that first clump of meat is pretty good. Chew? Jorrth sighs, the mental kind that extends just about forever. But... ok. If that's what T'mic wants. He can do this! His tail flicks, idly, against the floor, as he chews his way through another mouthful. « Kids? » he prompts. It might be a coward's technique to waylay the bronze from his goal with such tasty distractions, but Rafe will take it. He keeps the meat coming, sliding down to a seat next to the bronze as he releases the tension that's plagued him for days. The mood isn't right to do anything more than stare at K'zin blankly, rather than fuss and complain like she might have usually, for his efforts, for his encouraging gestures. It's only Roszadyth's insistence that has Farideh moving to inspect he bucket of chopped meat warily, and finally conceding to pick up a piece of meat, using as few fingers as possible, to angle towards the gold in silent, reverential offering. She still looks shocked by it all, if slightly weary and still in adoration of her new lifemate. "All of them," T'mic confirms, nodding, and thinking about all their little faces, and also sort of dimly gesturing, with a handful of meet, out toward... somewhere. Okay, probably they aren't really in that wall. But Jorrth gets it, right? "The weyrbrats." Which makes him think of his hair, and the bracelet woven in there. He tries to touch it. With a handful of meat. "They were so excited," is thoughtful. And he wants to look at who else is there and feeding dragons, but at the same time... Jorrth's neck is so skinny and adorable. Edyis is overwhelmed, but when the brown has had his fill she is happy to start cleaning away the gore and egg goo. Still unsure about this seasalt mind tied to her own. "You know. You lost me a few marks." She sighs, not that her other bets didn't more than make up for that loss. Vadevjiath might be able to be bought for the time being, but don't think he's forgotten his overall plan, Rafe. He'll REMEMBER. But this meat is really tasty. Jorrth really is adorable. Maybe even the most adorable... though he doesn't seem wholly conscious of that; meat is too delicious. Meat is everything. And T'mic. And... okay, lots of things are important maybe. « You'll have to show them to me! » he declares, all bright enthusiasm. « Show me everything, T'mic. Everything and everything and everything. » Quinlys's quiet as she does her rounds, pausing to inspect one weyrling or another, and share a few quiet words. She's still cheerful, but the ebullience of earlier has faded; this is work, and she's concentrating. Laine is visibly affected. She's propped herself against a wall, her legs tucked under her body, one hand wandering, exploring those neckridges of Lifreyth's, while the brown resumes his gorging; the tanner (weyrling), meanwhile, is just staring at the dragonet. That lopsided grin never leaves her lips, but eventually the brown settles back from the bucket of meat, muzzle blood-stained, and settles back on his haunches to rub his chin against a wingspar. Itchy. T'mic nods. The enthusiasm; he's a little bit drunk on it. "Yeah. How much more do you want to eat?" Then, laughing, almost giggling, "You're so tiny." Oh, did he put meat in his hair? That's offered to Jorrth now. "And chew," may as well be 'as you wish', may as well be all the rest. "And everything, and everyone, too." Roszadyth takes the offering primly. Well, to a point. Once it hits her tongue, there's a surprised, « Oh! » because she hadn't expected it to taste quite so sinfully good. She chews, following the example set forth by her fellows, and swallows and... « More? Please? » She'd be ever so grateful, Farideh. « More, » is Jorrth's not-terribly-scientific answer; maybe he'll get better at precision later. He opens his mouth wide, wide, wider than wide to make room for the new meat... and promptly begins to yawn. Well, that just makes T'mic yawn, too. But still, he's going in for more. He'll wait, of course, until Jorrth's finished what's in his mouth. Because that's responsible. Jorrth manages a few more mouthfuls, and then another yawn begins to overtake him. Also? He itches. No doubt T'mic does, too. Wriggling, he turns those big, oversized eyes up at his rider. Help? Seeing those great big eyes makes T'mic smile all over again. He bends as if he's going to pick that little dragon up... but then doesn't. It turns into something of a hug. And then scratch. "Oil, right?" It's remembered, from out of somewhere. They can go find it. Somewhere. Keysi just barely withdraws her hand before jaws and a swipe of white talons take another piece. "Patience." As if that will have any effect, no matter the scolding that accompanies her stern tone. The scolding can't possibly be serious, and the brown obviously calls her on it as he pays no attention while he gnaws and, in fact, shakes the piece of dripping meat. Dark wings remain mantled as if protective of her and of.. well.. this spot. Whatever's in it. Eventually the feeling of hunger fades replaced by a growing dryness. She reaches to scratch an eyeridge over his slender face, almost reflexively. The touch of Lifreyth's mindvoice is the whump of an ancient tome falling open, dust shaking from the pages, settling on creaking wooden shelves. Satisfaction radiates from the scripted words, enthusiasm turning those pages; reeling, scrawling images--as though drawn with a child's hand--are crooked and thick in their youthful elation. There's no words, only... happiness. (To local dragons from Lifreyth) It is an unpleasant task by far, but Farideh is nothing is not doting on the gold, and selects another pieces which she holds out in offering, even as she shifts to knees next to the bucket, her nose scrunched; meat smells, mkay!? "As much as you want, need," is her fervent vow to Roszadyth, her free hand reaching to trail fingers carefully along the top of her pale, antiqued head. There's no words from the taciturn bronze up on the rim, but there is a rush of cold, wintry winds, that spirals amongst that dust and dissipates almost as swiftly. (To local dragons from Leiventh) To local dragons, Niahvth is joy made, well, mental? She exudes it from every touch and petal dancing. Free of the sands with a strong fully partnered clutch off to discover the world, the queen stretches out to bolster Lifreyth's happiness, magnifying it and spreading some of it across the Weyr. Edyis sighs, her hand against the brown's skull, "A proper scrubbing, is the only way to deal with this mess." She frowns, looking to the Weyrlingmaster and assistant. "Can we? Baths or Lake?" Egg goo is difficult to clean with oil. Quinlys steps away from the greenrider she'd been talking to, shaking her head. "Just use the water in the pails," she indicates with one hand-- they've only just been brought in. "For today, at least. You'd get partway to the lake and then he'd fall asleep, I promise." He's too hard and gritty to expose the lil' dude to much of his personality, so Ilicaeth 'graciously' blunts his return sending, letting only granite and warm earth support Lifreyth's elation. Way ta go, kid! (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) A tide of salt water drifts tossed by those winds and soaking those pages, permiated with itchy, itchy, itchy sensations. (To local dragons from Akluseth) Edyis puffs her cheeks at Quinlys but maybe she knows petulance won't work. moving over to a bucket. "Come on seaweed brain." Thus begins the liberal dumping of buckets over him. « Hey. What are you doing? » To local dragons, Rasavyth's mental ooze of charm is a balm to those itchy hides. It won't take away the itch, certainly, but it helps take the edge off, hopefully. He's pleased, and it may be felt. He's a warm presence lingering at the edge of the activity in the barracks, settled outside. There, if needed, but not intruding. To local dragons, Reisoth's pride is subdued. But the fact that it's there at all certainly means something for the bronze who rarely shares much in the way of emotions. Never mind that he's more proud of himself for his part in creating the new weyrlings than the weyrlings themselves as yet. It's basically the same thing. To Rasavyth, Akluseth salt meets ooze. Washing away the shimmery stuff. «goop irritates Edyis.» The sensation of being flooded by buckets of water shared mutally. Keysi finds shortly that the scratching is not enough. Those whirling eyes are on her. Demanding, criticizing. The words aren't shared, except the barred little row of teeth that are supposed to be in some manner intimidating. "You'll have to sit for it." The girl's brows are drawn, too distracted to guard her expressions. "Sit still, that is." Is clarified as she forces herself to stand and, harder, turn her grey eyes away from the tiny brown to find a pale of water. Oil. Anything. One of those dark wings flicks, annoyed, at the time it takes. To local dragons, Knioth projects « Silvery trumpets and the thundering march resounds. «Welcome young lady and squires.» » To Akluseth, Rasavyth is amused. He almost always is, but now especially. « Sometimes, at the start, we share our sensations and some riders dislike being dirty, » not that Rasavyth himself sees anything wrong with being so if that is Akluseth's wish. « You'll find the goo itches. » He doesn't actively remember, but K'zin is sure he does. « Best to have it off. Now dirt... That's a different story. » Rasavyth is avuncular. Helpful. Edyis will be pleased, won't she? Liberal amounts of soapsand start scrubbing at the brown hide, and Akluseth puts up with it much the way a good natured canine might though he doesn't seem to really want to sit still. More interested in what his siblings are doing. « Why is this necissary? » "Because you are a filthy mess." Edyis replies, content that for the time being there isn't much of him to scrub. She glances over at the healer, pursing her lips. "Well, is he what you wanted?" She murmurs to her friend even as she tries to find the oil. Relatively tiny Neianth moves with Keysi as she moves, step for step, as a shadow. Though his head swivels, eyeing the other dragonets as if evaluating them. Critiquing them. The girl stops at the bucket, and finds a familiar voice that isn't in her head calling her name. "..Edyis." Her mind so occupied, weighted, it seems a struggle to say even that. She focuses on the one now her fellow-weyrling. "What I wanted?" A beat, "He's everything." Impatience, though. Impatience of white talons clawing the bucket, threatening to knock it over towards Ed and hers. |
Leave A Comment