Logs:Little Tiny Dragons
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| RL Date: 24 October, 2015 |
| Who: Ellerey, Jocelyn, L'ton, Lys, N'klas, Pia, Quinlys, S'rin, Silva, T'gar, Telavi, Torlynna, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During the hatching, baby dragons are adorable. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
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| One-armed J'vain escorts Torlynna and her green into the barracks saying, "We'll get you some meat for her, all right? Congratulations, greenrider." Inside the barracks, the weyrlings from Niahvth's clutch are waiting, some excited and some more truculent; the same can equally be said for their dragons. L'ton is among the withdrawn ones, hesitant where his dragon is more eager. He watches behind a shaded hand, as if the lanterns lit in the barracks is hurtful to his midnight-desiring eyes. Ruiyath trundles over to the entrance to nose at the initially arriving brown and then turns to look at the green. Torlynna rubs the sand and egg mixture from her hands as she helps the messy little green with an expression that is both protective and also confused until the outside voice intrudes on what's going on inside. He lips tighten into a smile as she changes direction, falling in step to be lead. "Thank you. I -- " Being called Greenrider silences her and her cheek twitches, "Right, food! Thank you." Is it a surprise that Pia is one of the excited ones? No. It wouldn't be. Luishaeth's not, though; she may still be humming in her own quiet way, but she seems faintly suspicious, too. "Oh, can I help bring the meat?" Pia wants to know, excitedly. "Look at all the tiny dragons!" A blue weyrling from the previous clutch, steps forward, wearing a bloodied apron and carrying pails. "Here ya go, just feed her nice and slow, miss, yea?" He flashes a shy smile first at Torlynna and then looks to Pia, "I chopped enough, I think, just need to get them into the buckets." L'ton rouses himself from his uncertainty and moves to to the butcher table to grab some buckets himself. "Here," he says, helpfully, to Pia, and pushes one at the greenriding weyrling. Tela straightens from dealing with one of the others, her sigh as yet well-controlled; "Aren't they darling?" she says to the room. "Yes, yes, bring the meat, Pia. Just don't let her eat the tiny bits. Please.' Oh, please. "And what's your name?" she asks of Torlynn. "What's her name?" Torlynna eyes the older weyrlings, particularly if they come to close with something very unfriendly as though they might do something to the little dragon and growls an aside, "I'm just making sure." She assures aloud and then her expression softens a bit as she accepts the pail and turns to try to find a small enough strip without getting fingers chomped or choking her. "She's Violith." More important perhaps. "I'm Torlynn." Her eyes narrow slightly but she gets distracted for demands for more meat and her shaking hands are having a hard time of it for a moment. Pia's grin for L'ton is bright and brilliant. She takes that bucket cheerfully, turning her grin on Telavi a moment later, too. After that, it's straight to the new weyrlings, eyes bright: "Congratulations! Here-- more of this. They'll love it." "Tor... lynn. Is that with one 'n' or two? Or 'l'? Or 'r'? --oh, never mind, we'll cross-reference it later," Telavi sighs. "Violith. That's pretty, at least." Maybe she won't make her trade it in. Torlynna's eyes narrow but she must not think Telavi's question is real. "Who are you? Why are you--ow!" The distraction making her hands slow so the messy dragonmaw chomps and slobers messily on her hand. The little green burbles a meat-mouth appology and works extra hard to show chewing in apology for the slip of teeth. Tor frowns and uses the other and to brush at some of the sand glued on from the egg during the tumble. "She's quite a mess." "I am your boss," Telavi says loftily, and yes, there's a little mark going by Torlynna's name on her waxed-slate list. "I am Quinlys' right-hand--" sorry, J'vain! "--girl. And... ooh, more." Louder, to more of the room including those incoming, "Yes, they'll be messy for a long time, but after you feed them, careful with the bits! don't let them choke! you can clean and oil and then they will sleep and then it will be fabulous!" The barracks are a thrum of activity and the weyrlings from the last clutch are helping others with their new dragons and food. Their dragonets are trying to help, some of them at least. And in some cases, such as Ruiyath and L'ton, it's the dragon who is far more eager to assist the new arrivals than his, rather tired looking, rider. "I'm going! Seriously. You can stop shouting in my head. I hear you just fine even when you're not ... a hyperactive bouncy ball." He reaches out to the arriving Silva and the one behind her and holds out buckets. "You should find a place to sit and feed them, out of the way, there's more of you coming." Silva stumbles into the weyrling barracks, that hair she'd done so neatly askew. At least her makeup isn't undone? At her side comes a little blue dragon - so TINY, omg, and hungry. There is already disagreement? She just looks more than a little dazed. To Flurry dragons, Ruiyath projects « Hiiii!> He's young. He's up waaaaay past his bed time. He's excited. « The corner in the far back is the quietest. Up front is where the snorers sleep. Dragon and rider both. » Sharply: « I don't snore. » (To Flurry dragons from Luishaeth) Zaisyreth's eyes are clear, not dazed but delighted, full of blue amidst the hunger. He's lifted his head, trying to reach the hem of Silva's robe but just can't reach. If she'd only keep wearing it for another month, then maybe... To Flurry dragons, Ruiyath's rolling eyes can /practically/ be heard. T'gar is walking in, seemingly in a daze. His eyes fall on those there before him, but mostly, he turns to see where that little bronze has gotten to. Considering how the dragonet's behaved earlier, he probably shouldn't turn his back on the bronze. Pia is all bright eyes as she thrusts a bucket in T'gar's direction. "Meat," she says. "He'll want it, trust me." He won't have to reach for too long, because Silva's dazed expression is just going to get pulled downwards. There's a complete softness there for Zaisyreth, and forget whatever she may have learned, that little ball of dragon is going to get picked up in the teens arms. Okay, now her makeup is going to get smudged, Zaisyreth left with a hint of blush along his headnob. "okay, like. Okay. Food. You have to eat." First test of weyrlinghood. She moves towards those buckets and peers in.... "You... are... um." But the answer is YES PLEASE, and so with a twist of her lips Silva reaches in to try to grab a piece with just two fingers. "ew...." Torlynna seems used to her name and marks on it and she doesn't seem particularly worried about paying up for being snarky at the moment. She incliens her head to Telavi, "Ok Boss. it's T-o-r-l-y-n-n-a, for the record ma'am." Polite enough but clearly distracted with the effort to feed and scratch her young dragon and keep up with everything else going on around her, like others coming in off the sands. T'gar looks at the bronze, then heads over to get some meat as he says aloud, "You're making me hungry. You know that, right? Come on over." His Bitran accent's back, at least, though it's a light one. He takes the bucket from Pia with a nod and grabs a small morsel of it to pass on over to Asaroth with a little smirk. Asaroth is here, but he's following behind his new lifemate, studying in ominous fashion, everything they pass; scrutinizes in a way that suggest he may yet come back to them later. His eyes are whirling red as a sign of his hunger. "Thank you." That's more like it! Telavi even dimples at Torlynna before running to catch up, telling the arriving weyrlings what to do with the feeding and the cleaning and the oiling, even that kid talking to his blue over there. T'gar stares at Asaroth hard as he presents the bronze with food. He's studying the little bronze's features, mostly. To him, "Don't get testy, now," he states as he presents the meat to him beckoning him to eat. "Aren't you suppose to be adoring me or something?" Yes, he's in full blown conversation with his dragon. Torlynna doesn't smile back. It's just her thing, not a frown but just a flat look down that nose of hers before a creel demands more food and her expression softens, though there's still not a smile, not even for the dragon. Chewing another mouthful of meat, the green burbles and twists around, looking and looking at everyone, humans and dragons alike. Asaroth is standoffish until he notices the meat; glorious, bloody, red meat, all for him! His jaws open and snap on the chunk of raw meat, and luckily, T'gar escapes getting any of his fingers bitten off this time. While Silva is ew-ing, Telavi and her slate make her way over to the girl; "Which one are you?" the greenrider asks. "And who's he? We won't worry about spelling yet. His, anyway! It's so fun when you can carry them around like that." T'gar does manage to step back in time, glaring at the bronze now with a hasty, "Hey! Slow-like. You want to choke on it?" He even goes to try and break up for meat into smaller chunks - that's if he doesn't get his fingers nipped at. "I - think that is how it's supposed to be, " a shaky Jocelyn says as she and Aidavanth are ushered off of the sands. She's exhausted, but instruction takes over as she keeps a hand resting lightly on the gold's neck, edging up onto her toes to peer toward the nearest, unoccupied meat bucket. "Over here. If this suits, I mean. Would you - " And a sheepish little laugh escapes her. Aidavanth reaches up with her head to nudge at Jocelyn, and then nudge down at that meat bucket. Ooh! Yes, this will do nicely. Someone? Talking to them? Silva's taking her not-paying-attention-to-stuff to extremes, but only because she's hyper focused on the little blue all cuddled up in her arms, his tail hanging down to wrap neatly around one leg. Zaisyreth is probably the one that clues her in to the other person talking to. "Oh, um, like, yeah. Uh, Silva, and uh, Zaisyreth! That's him." But with a nudge she's reminded of what she's suppose to be doing. "I.. um.. are there like... gloves?" L'ton has taken over from the blue weyrling at chopping more meat for the incoming weyrling dragons. He's filling pails for other people to take out to the new Impressees. Meanwhile, his dragon is walking around the barracks like he owns the place and going forward to greet each new arrival. Evyth dances in by Lys, following the weyrlingmaster's direction to the barracks with an unerring obedience. Here, here, come here! Her urgency towards Lys manifests quite loudly on a mental level, reaching out to every dragon present. Telavi jots down something for Silva's dragonet's name, anyway, though it might look awfully like a scribble; meanwhile, Nik-- N'klas, now-- talks back and forth with his dragon, hardly any of it really coherent syllables. She'll deal with him later. "Silva, like 'silver' but all drawl-y? No, no gloves; it's horrible, it gets under your fingernails something fierce. But wash him really well before you get the oil on, or else he will itch, itch more I mean, it'll be furious." The first chunk is nearly swallowed whole in hastiness, but Asaroth advances towards T'gar, butting up against him in search of more; hunger unsated. Jocelyn is too engrossed in making sure that her new lifemate's needs are being met to pay much attention yet to what's going on around her, aside from stepping around someone else to reach that bucket with a hurried, "Excuse me. You won't starve, don't be ridiculous, " and although that last bears some resemblance to her usual brusqueness, it's considerably warmer for Aidavanth. There's no shying away here - she sticks a hand into the bucket, pulls out as large a handful as she can carry and says evenly, "Cautiously, now. I can't save you if you choke during your first hour." Ellerey is escorted in by her snarling, then cooing green lifemate, and a pair of Healers, who look after her bloodied form. The former trader appears both staggered and a little fearful. S'rin follows in after the blue who may as well be tugging him like he's attached to a leash off of the sands. "Okay, okay! Why isn't there much time?" He wonders, but looks about as lost as a person can while following a little dragon. T'gar has them all lined up and ready for Asaroth with a few more glares besides. "Carefully," he's still admonishing the bronze passing over a new morsel. "If you get sick..." He's looking around now as more Impressees enter the barracks, not having noticed until now. Quarinth is so tired, but so hungry! He tugs when he can, while moving all wobbley-legged towards where that next adventure is: the MEAT! Hurry! ALready his mouth is open, his little teeth baring. Torlynna holds onto Violith as the little green whirls towards the sounds of people coming in and starts to lean that way. "No, I think you can just stay here. Look--there's the oil stuff. that's the oil? Yes?" Lys is trying. She really is. It's embarrassing to still be weeping as she trails behind the dancing green. Sniffling and wiping her face with her arm, she moves to get the meat, dumbly following the instructions, looking at the green as if she-- just can't quite believe it. Awed. S'rin is certainly having some trouble keeping up with Quarinth, "Wait, wait!" He insists, before reaching for some of the meat to give it to that hungry mouth. "Make sure you chew it, alright?" He admonishes, lest the blue get too eager to do that. Evyth is jolted out of her fixation on finding something to placate that deep growl in her tummy and quite, literally, following her nose to what smells delicious. « You're crying, » she knows what crying is, she's quite good at figuring words out from Lys's own head. « Why are you crying? No no, no no, stop crying, see? I'm here and we're together, what else could be better? » The idea weeping could be a good thing is, however, something the little green does not understand. That and dialing her voice down several notches so the whole world does not hear. Quinlys follows the very last of the weyrlings into the barracks, pausing near the entrance to exchange a few quiet words with one of her assistants. Then, she reaches in to grab another bucket of meat, escorting her way around and offering assistance and advice as she goes. Quarinth What is this 'chew?' From S'rin's hands into the blue's mouth, Quarinth is bolting down those hunks of raw meat like he'll never see another. C'mon, man! Keep 'em coming! Uh-oh... Hack hack Cough- splort! Back up comes one of those meaty bits, along with a little snot...and a quick examination of it before the blue's trying to bolt it down all over again. Everett. Everett isn't Everett anymore. V'ret. V'ret comes in with a bronze and all is absolutely right in the universe and you'd think he'd really be smiling more than this, but his face registers very little but a sort of perplexed concentration. Meat is the next priority, and once he has some of that, he manages to get himself over to where T'gar is before settling in. Like there's something that requires proving, here. "Lucky," though, is all he says. "Ugh," It's probably a good thing that Zaisyreth is like, the most Zen in the world, because he's being oh-so-patient with Silva's reluctance to touch the meat and put it down. There's no sadness from him, or urging her to go faster. He's like the most calm little baby every born, that tail of his twining even more around Silva's leg and taking the bits she gives over to him. Lys's "I'm not," is a lame lie, scrubbing her face again. She stops as the dragon stops, only she has to look up at the ceiling and count quietly under her breath. "It's just-- you're so happy," which she makes sound improbable, wondrous and frightening all at once. "I'm just-- me," is a lame attempt to explain. Then, in an also embarrassing show of feeling, the blonde drops to her knees to wrap her arms around the green and pull her gently into an embrace. Still crying. Asaroth would appreciate the promptness and forethought, but.. food. Food he wants to devour as fast as he can get it chewed up with his sharp chompers. He doesn't show any interest in anyone else, unless, of course, they get too close. Jocelyn's carefully monitoring Aidavanth's meat input, one piece at a time. As that first feeding settles into a rhythm, the redhead's focus lifts enough to briefly glance over at Lya, even if it returns quickly to the burnished maw just there at her hands. "More?" She's already reaching into the bucket for another handful, if so. Telavi doesn't demand more of that pair, not yet; she starts to stop by S'rin and then-- no, moving on; she doesn't drop by the pair of bronzes either, now that she's spotted Lycinea and-- "Lya!" she breathes once she's near, hushed but not that hushed. "Congratulations! What's her name? Solith says she's loud, aren't you, cutie." S'rin groans as the meat hunk gets dropped at his feet after it gets hacked out. "Gross. /Gross/" He gives a bit of a glower to Quarinth before shaking his head. "Chew. Use your teeth, like.." He tries to make it look like he's chewing a piece of meat but really it just looks silly. "Back to the sands? I don't think so, you'll be tired." Well, not that the blue isn't on some level already. T'gar, locked in a glaring contest with his bronze, looks up in time to find Everett -now V'ret - there by him. He looks dazed, but there's a flash of smile for him when he sees the bronze following in. Leaning over, "Don't get too close to this one," he warns to him and his new lifemate. "He's nearly bitten me already, and I'm suppose to be his friend." He's passing over more meat as he warns about Asaroth. Just forget about Ellerey, please. Honestly, *please*. She's being bandaged up around legs and torso, while shakily trying to feed her feral green lifemate some meat. Virisceth hisses in agitation, plucks the gobbet from her human's hand - almost with a finger attached - and savages it before gobbling it down. Evyth does not suffer the embrace. She relishes it, her plushy pliable body warm in Lys's arms. Her heart beats. Her veins thrum with ichor. Her hide, sleek from being just hatched is starting to be less so, but she still smells like a dewy spring morning. And then her belly rumbles loudly, ruining the moment. Eventually Zaisyreth, even as small as he is, gets too heavy for Silva to keep holding. "I'm so sorry," but she gently puts him down upon the gound. The blue doesn't keep his voice quiet, as waving grass sweeps gently under a pure blue sky. « It is all well. My mouth is a little bigger though. » A gentle push for something a little more substantial please? Maybe? As he arranges himself on the ground, keeping his tail wrapped loosely around Silva, his head settles on the ground to watch the others. Nope, no biting from him. Lys's weeping briefly increases and the hug tightens before she lets go. It's really Tela's voice that has her getting up. "Tela," is relief, distraction and she swallows hard the rest of those happy feelings that are proving so unmanageable. "Evyth," is said with quiet pride and adoration, "this is my friend, Telavi. She and Solith are going to be our teachers," is explained as her hand reaches to rub across the little green's head. "She's hungry," is addressed to the assistant as a request for direction. Quarinth is tired? No he's not. He's *hungry*. The intrepid blue shakes his wings a little - nevermind his small stagger - to show he's just fine, his whip-like tail suddenly snaking around S'rin's calf and trying to tug him closer. Oh, okay: slower, then. He's not much for slow, really, so, in the end, the next hanks of meat are only accepted eagerly, instead of automatically bolted down, chewed a couple of times, then ingested. Telavi practices such things; she can copy Lys's, "Evyth," with nary a stumble and bright eyes to boot. "Oh, lovely." The writing of the name, that's more phonetic. "We have food over here, chopped the teensiest bits for the littlest ones, and I'm so glad," she directs them as best she can. "Wash after, and oil, and sleep, and... I'm so happy you're happy." She'll have to see to other weyrlings in a moment, but surely she can steal this one now. "Weird feeling around your toes, " Jocelyn repeats aloud, wiggling her own toes automatically in sympathetic response. "That - hang on. We'll find a way to fix it after you're satisfied here." So there's another handful presented, every bit as carefully as the first, until Aidavanth's rate of consumption slows to a halt. "Quite the itch, " she mutters as she ineffectually scrapes the sole of her shoe against the floor, glancing quickly around for the nearest - something. "Oil, " is the first brisk word out of her mouth when she next makes eye contact with someone on the weyrlingmaster staff. "I think. Her feet - " And there's another wiggle of her own. S'rin is tugged easily, taking a couple uncertain steps closer and searching through chunks of meat to try and find smaller ones for his blue so that he doesn't end up with more of the slobbery pieces at his feet. "That's a lot better." He pauses in giving meat bits to scratch at one of the blue's eyeridges. "Right, not tired." He agrees, and shakes his head. "You're going to be quite the handful aren't you?" Aidavanth's toes wiggle (hey, that's kind of fun! And isn't it great not to be inside an egg anymore? There's so much space!) experimentally. Of course, the meat is good, too; actually, life in general seems good, as she shares, cheerfully, with the rest of her clutchmates. Hi! Evyth chirrups, struggling to keep up her high spirits but failing in light of the deepening growl. Growl, here her growl! And then a bucket appears attached to L'ton's hand and a brief smile for the weyrling Lys. It's set down by the green who dives her nose into it with a delicious smacking, like she's slurping up the meat rather than chewing. "Easy there," he warns both Evyth and Lys. V'ret takes his time about selecting pieces of meat from those provided, and though Zoth takes hold of the first with a great and passionate fervor, as his hunger is sated the feeding process is able to become considerably more routine. "Don't worry, I'll keep my hands to myself--ah, is that all right?" His attention has quickly been diverted back, but it must be fine, just a momentary trouble with a gristly bit. Ellerey looks about as freaked out as someone of her robust character makeup can be, and still not lose it. She's drawn and yet repelled by her new lifemate, who's now curled her tail as far about the woman's legs as it can, the green suddenly told to, "Stop; Virisceth!" as the hatchling looks to try and snap another hank of meat from Elle's fingers. Red eyes blink...and the feral green does indeed stop. "Oh," is almost an afterthought to Telavi as she looks distractedly away from L'ton and his perfectly timed delivery, "I'm Lys now," which Tela will apparently just need to get used to, for Lya has a sunny smile for that. Happy. It means L'ton even gets a big smile, a real smile. "Thank you," even sounds so genuine as she goes to her knees again. "Evy, you have to chew," she insists, but gently. "Here," says Quinlys, coming to a halt in front of Jocelyn and her dragon, a small bucket of oil and a paddle in hand. "Try this?" Asaroth is finally taking his time, sating himself on the meat bits presented by T'gar. "I should probably, too," he notes to V'ret, looking relieved now as the fierce little bronze is eating his fill. It's enough to now have him really looking at those who Impressed, eyes slightly narrowing before something from his bronze draws him right back. Torlynna looks over at the sound of all the hissing and snarling and the wounded new weyrling and her dragon. "Are you alright?" She asks Ellerey, glancing from her around to all the weyrlingmasters who seem a bit overwhelmed with the task of so many new pairs to set up. "She seems--um--is she ok? I didn't think they were suposed to do that after they impressed." Because that's a little scary. Evyth's tongue lolls around the bucket, stilling suddenly at the directive from above. Her bloodstained muzzle lifts and she looks up and up at Lys in a cross between comical woops and meek acceptance. « Chew. But I liked how it felt on my tongue. » Her head disappears into the bucket again and two fore paws come up to try and pin the bucket in place as she catches a cut piece of meat in between her jaws and lifts it out to start chewing. As if Aidavanth's itch had caused the emotion to rise within Zaisyreth, the sensation of being itchy runs down the link to Silva. But unlike the newely made gold Weyrling, Silva doesn't have a clue what it means. It's okay. The blue has a clue about his own body and those wickly sharp talons reach around to scratch at his hide. Wickly sharp and newly-born soft don't go together and the movement leaves behind a thin green line against the pale white-blue. Pain is a new sensation to them both and Silva freezes, looking at it runing down to the ground. "What... what... what, help!" She is just gon to yell in high-pitched panic. 'Lys.' "Lys. Well!" Telavi murmurs to Lys then, even as she writes a version of that very name, "I don't know if you've met L'ton," but not as though she'll expect the girl to remember; the weyrling himself gets a quick, distracted smile before she's moving along-- make that, before Silva grabs her attention and she's hurrying back. "Careful, careful!" "I...I don't know..." Ellerey looks owlishly over at Torlynna's inquiry, the ex-trader's face still pale. "She's..." Cue a look down at Virisceth, who's now eating without getting too close to her lifemate's fingers, though the dark green still snuffles, growls, hisses some. "She's..." Like an animal? Torlynna lays a protective hand on her curious lifemate and edges her body in between her sleepy-eyed and well oiled little green and the wild thing. "maybe one of the weyrlingmasters will have a trick for that." Violith yawns, tongue rolling out and then flops into the backs of Tor's legs, crooning warmly at Virisceth, « You should get the oil. The oil will make you all better! » She fans out a short, strong wing to show the gleam. See. Jocelyn gives Quinlys an exhale and a grateful, "Thank you, " before taking paddle and oil bucket eagerly to lead Aidavanth some steps away from the meat, perhaps even now conscious that someone else may need that space. She's quick to settle herself on the floor once they've found enough room for the task, smoothing oil with hands that are still a trifle unsteady over those feet, first. Then legs, one at a time. Sides. Back. And anywhere else that requires immediate attention. A handful? « You got *me*, S'rin. You know how lucky you are? » Quarinth's cocky voice sounds off. A baby-chuff emerges, and he continues to eat that meat...*his* way. Oh, oh BLISS. The (tired) blue leans into his lifemate's scritching hand heavily, and then..the feeling starts crawling all over his body. Not the tender scratcing, but the « I *Itch*. » Another experience now underway! Wait, though. Unpleasant. Do something. Watch this all, because this is the only time anyone will ever see Silva drop all pretese of staying pretty and kneeling on the floor. Her hands press against her face as she is pale with worry, "What do I do! He cut himself! Oh shells, he's going to be okay right? Zaisy, you're going to be okay?" Her voice is going to get annoying really quick. "Well, you'll like this too, because it squishes around everywhere and gets the juice everywhere," Lys advises the green, bringing a hand to absently stroke down her back as she eats. "No," to Tela is quick, "Haven't," is almost a question to L'ton, before "Hi," which would be appropriate even if she had met him before. Her eyes are drawn toward the yelling and she makes a disgusted sort of face before looking away, eyes briefly finding Jocelyn and her new lifemate for the first time. Her reaction pinches her face together, trying not to smile or laugh or both, only not succeeding because there are too many emotions to try to rein in now. She probably just seems another kind of crazy now. In response? Aidavanth's pleasure is tangible, her mmm-mmm thoughts extending out towards her clutchmates and most especially to her Jocelyn; yes, this is exactly what she needed. Needs. « This is the good stuff, » she announces, brightly. S'rin grins and shakes his head, "The luckiest?" He asks, though it's not really a question so much as an answer to the blue's question. "You are pretty handsome, you know." He finally decides, as he offers food until Quarinth starts complaining about being itchy. Itchy. Itchy. What to do about that. He looks around to see what others are doing, before realizing. "Oil!" He then points to where there's a space for the blue to sit near one of those pails. "Let's try that."
Telavi swallows and does not let her own voice get high in reaction to Silva's, not even with all those emotions the baby dragons are throwing around; "Yes," she says very calmly, even before she's crouched for a better look. "He'll be fine. Settle down before you upset him; that's just a little thing, so press it with your fingers so the bleeding stops. It should be soon anyway. Was it his claws, or someone else's?" Ruiyath comes up behind L'ton and studies Evyth curiously. "Aye, lad, she is quite a little lady," says the rider of the barely bigger bronze. "L'ton. Bronze Ruiyath's. I slept a night in the barracks, close to the door, since those were the only cots left." Evyth's initial chewing is reluctant, the forced set of her jaws quickening as the meat squishes in a delicious fashion. Oh, her rider is so very smart to know this. The first piece is gone like that and the second follows quickly thereafter. « You got it, buster. » Is that a small wink from one of those blue and red eyes? Quarinth is all caught up in the 'itch,' now, however, and he's wobble-moving over towards the oil pots with *his* bestest buddy, his tail lashing a littl again, while the blue tries to also rub whatever part of him is closest on S'rin. T'gar finds the bucket of meat empty, but Asaroth - by the headbutt against his shin - is not finished yet. To V'ret, "Need another bucket yourself?" he offers as he stands, his hands bloody from the meat as he moves over to grab up some more by Quinlys. Zaisyreth butts his head against Silva, he's okay? Okay? It just... it hurts. Those breezes in his mind have calmed to just the smallest hint of cool air. "But like, oh shells, I, he's," a bit more handtwisting is Silva's reaction. But she can't just do nothing right? Hesitently she reaches forward and presses against the scratch. "Um, his talon. That one," the one with green on it, "he, um, like, um, he was itching. I think, you're itchy? Shells, I am so sorry." Sad Silva. SAD. The dramatics aren't getting any better. Her gaze is slightly wild (Guys, Silva is SO NOT cut out for this), "What if it happens again? Hes going to bleed forever." She's close to tears now, moisture gathering at the edges of her eyes. Quinlys, turning, gives T'gar a long glance. "You," she says, a little snippily. "here, have some more meat." Jocelyn manages to catch Lys's glance between maneuvers around Aidavanth to spread more of that soft, soothing oil over baby dragonhide. For the other's laugh-smile, there's a flash of answering emotion, accompanied by a little nod. Now that they're settling down, she can more properly take in more of their surroundings - including Silva's dramatics across the way, which earn both a wince and a protective lean toward her own dragon. "He is not," Telavi says very carefully, even if it's a little bit through her teeth, "going to bleed forever. It's time for oiling. Cleaning, just to get the worst off this time, and oiling. Come on, I'll guide you," and then quite possibly foist her off on J'vain. T'gar looks over towards a pushy Asaroth before looking back at that long look from Quinlys. "At least the daze seems to have left his demeanor enough for him to state, "Here I thought you'd be glad to find you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Thanks," as he takes up the fresh new bucket with one of his slight smiles. Aidavanth, half eager to stay awake and half beginning to fall asleep despite herself, nuzzles her head into Jocelyn; it's exactly where she wants to be. « Mmm, » she says. « Mmmm. » Torlynna remains as a protection between her young dragon and the red-eyed threat as mild as can be, though really, what could she /do/ if there was a dragon fight? Would there be a dragon fight? Her eyes jerk to her lifemate, "Easy for you to say, you haven't been in a fight before." But, hopefully the oil will do the trick and her fellow weyrling can relax a little. Quinlys opens her mouth. "Oh-- just go back to your dragon. Go." She's not scowling. She's just... tired. Flustered? Who even knows. Evyth's enjoyment of the meat gives Lys a whole new layer to the veritable glow of good feeling that she has. She looks away from her lifemate, though that hand still glides down her back, to find the young man again. "Well met, you and Ruiyath both," she pronounces with unusual care. "This is Evyth. I'm Lys. Was Lya-- Lycinea, that is." She squints at him a little, "Have I seen you before then?" Perhaps since. "You look familiar." Who can say why. S'rin scrunches his nose, "Is that what I sound like?" He wonders idly, and then sits so he can allow for Quarinth can rest his head on his lap should he choose to. Reaching for one of the paddles he looks like he doesn't know at all what he's doing and just smears some on the blue in far thicker swathes than is necessary. "Does that feel better?" Heavens, Silva's going to be the worst rider in the world. But a few gulped breaths and she is starting to bring herself together. She's missing ALL the social cues that Telavi is pushing towards her, but calming as Zaisyreth may be bleeding, but he isn't crying. (Or the dragon equivilent.) Instead he's all, « It's okay Silva. It only hurts a little bit. » So um, could they go? Get it taken care of? Please? Pulling herself to her feet Silva gathers up Zaisyreth into her arms and stumbles after Telavi. Chances of her letting go of the little blue again tonight? Doubtful. T'gar's only reaction is that smile growing evermore at the Weyrlingmaster. As he walks backwards with the bucket, "I think my dragon's a little crazy. Just so you know. I'll know for sure later." There's that. Then he pivots to face a waiting Asaroth, dropping back down to a seat to continue his feeding. And Jocelyn makes an answering, low noise of content for her drowsing lifemate, eventually just lightly pressing her forehead to the orange-gold's once the oil is set aside, nudged in another new rider's direction. "It's late, " she rasps, which nearly turns into a yawn of her own. "We'll find - somewhere." But there's a considering look given to the nearest set of couches: does choice matter much, here? This involves much more than choosing a bunk suitable for one. It's after Tela's shown Silva the basics and abandoned her to J'vain that she continues making the rounds; now she drifts over to Jocelyn, a smear on her sleeve but her snugly-braided hair intact. "How are you finding yourself?" she asks the weyrling. And for her slate, for the lists, for the lists that are Quinlys' and not the headwoman's now, "What's her name?" Ellerey slowly begins to get her marbles in a row as Virisceth continues to listen to her firm commands, the dark green hatchling now taking the time to truly look all around at her fellow clutchmates as her abominable itching is eased by lots of oil. Her body shivers in pleasure as Elle slathers the stuff cautiously all over the dragonet, and only occasionally does the feral green chomp her gleaming teeth at her human to remind her to also keep the meat coming. "Sleepy, " Jocelyn answers honestly as she turns her attention to Telavi, straightening up enough to lean back onto her heels. "Aidavanth." And the owner of that name straightens similarly - or, well, she tries to. The burnished creature lifts her head, peering up at the greenrider with eyes that gradually pick up a little speed, curious. "Can we - does it matter where we choose to sleep? My belongings - " And there's a sheepish shrug for so many inquiries at once, even if they're necessary. The bleeding gets stopped and Silva gets calmed down. It takes some time, and at the end of it, both weyrling and dragon are just tired. Even though that baby belly could probably use more than the snack Silva reluctantly tossed into his mouth, right now they could use the comfort of sleep even more. While Jocelyn and her little one work though where to sleep, Silva and Zaisyreth are going to be pointed in the direction of a couch. They make a cute pair, with Zaisyreth curling up into a ball against Silva's belly, all sorts of baby zzzs. (Just wait till he wakes up hungry in an hour or so.) Silva though, doesn't sleep. She's just going to lay there with his warm body against her and stare. Slow processing. Telavi spells it out swiftly, syllable by syllable; she waves her stylus in Aidavanth's general direction afterward, if not in talons'-- or tongue's-- reach. "Mmm, one of the larger ones. But other than that?" She keeps her voice down, intended to keep the peace if still with that subtle lilt of buoyancy, that hint of tiredness too. "Think of whether you want to be in the thick of things, or have a little... very little... peace. I will say that that one there," she points, "resonates awfully with everyone going by." Jocelyn exhales, gaze following where Telavi points to mark that particular area's recommendation - or lack thereof, as the case may be. "Not that one, then, " she's swift to reply, pushing slowly to her feet. "If there's a large one far enough back from the door, perhaps - " A glance is shared with the small dragon who stands with her, moving toward a couch that she, apparently, finds suitable. "That one?" That one. "That one's a little bigger," Lys' voice comes from the next-one-down, inviting Jocelyn and her lifemate to take the one next to them. She's perched on the edge of the couch while Evyth explores the pillows with nose, limbs and well, anything else she can wriggle and wrangle to the purpose, head poking up long enough to make an excited sort of sound toward the dragon of the pair. Accompanying them, Telavi looks the space over, the toe of her boot just dipping into the concavity of the couch proper; if her blue-green eyes might flicker momentarily, some old memory, when she steps back she leaves no mark. "That one," she confirms. Which doesn't mean that she doesn't half-turn at that other suggestion, and bring back a smile; "Another fine option. I think it'll go wonderfully, wherever you're put." Wherever they put themselves. Did blonde-lady over there just point at her? VIrisceth's eyeing Telavi with a certain predatory air, the dark little green hatchling's teeth clicking together subtly. "No!" Ellerey barks out low and with intense, strained fear and outrage in her voice, the woman squatting down and taking very firm hold of Virisceth's chin, almost yanking the hatchling's head around to face her rider. Growwwwl...cooooo goes the unsettling hatchling's voice as she suddenly rubs her nose into Elle's hand. More oil. Aidavanth has a sleepy noise for Evyth's excited one, but she's happy enough to shift to the bigger one that's next to the green. Whether it's some internal prompting from Jocelyn that causes her to change spaces or a shift in her own preference is unclear; being near others is all she desires at present, and that's the bulk of the feeling she lets slip back to her smaller sibling, even as she's settling into that couch that's a little broader, a little deeper than the other. "This will do, " for Jocelyn's tired, too. It's there in her voice, in the less guarded, "Thank you, " for Telavi, in the small smile she gives Lys. There's clothing to change into, and eventually, more feeding and oiling. But for now? Now there's sleep. Together. Truly, it doesn't take long for Evyth to settle once Aidavanth is in her new place. A few more wiggles, a few more turns, a low murmuring from Lys and then suddenly, the green is out. Lys doesn't seem, initially, to believe it and it requires a climb down to where the dragon is settled and test a limp limb. A giggle is smothered in her hand, (yes, a giggle) and then Lys is leaning to brush a kiss to the oiled green and moving back out of the couch to steal a little time. A bath, no doubt, and her clothes from the barracks are nearly as sorely wanted as sleep. But who can sleep with such a high? Not Lys. Not yet. Will the alert, smooth, unsettling Virisceth ever fall asleep? Even now, with her belly full and hide oiled, the dark green's eyes are wide open and swirling a lazy blue with hints of reddish-orange in the occasional facet. Perhaps unsettlingly, it it -she- who slowly steps away from Ellerey, moving directly to -her- choice of couches...the one right beside her golden sister's. At this point, the only sound she's making comes from the soft click of rear talons and the even breaths she draws. And Ellerey? -She's- finally grabbed a hold of herself, and is nodding grimly to her lifemate as she follows. And, within a few heartbeats of curling up on her chosen bit of stone, the green's suddenly out like a lightbulb. And Ellerey, still charged with the deeply mixed feeligs about her Impression, heads out to the Healers to get her wounds checked up on again. |
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