Logs:Of Role Models
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| RL Date: 25 April, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin, S'din, Shaylar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 6, Month 7, Turn 7 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 15:26 on day 6, month 6, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer afternoon. You climb down from Leiventh's Couch and R'hin's Hammock. Weyrling Barracks(#430RAJs$) This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets. The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl. Contents: Maxeoth Vesereth Shaylar Gruvfeath Feedback Box Firelizard Perch(#8812JSae$) Obvious exits: Weyrling Training Room Bowl Leiventh climbs down from Leiventh's Couch and R'hin's Hammock. Leiventh has arrived. R'hin, true to his word, has gone to the effort of snagging the much-loved hammock from the candidate barracks and installing it next to Leiventh's chosen couch, pushing the accompanying cot out of the way to make room. Leiventh's dozing, and R'hin is too, to a degree - he's relaxing in his hammock, one arm behind his head, eyes on the bronze as if ensuring the dragon hasn't moved as yet. The faintest twitch from Leiventh results in a abrupt surge upwards from R'hin, setting the hammock swinging wildly. The weyrling is looking exhausted, eyes red-rimmed, relaxing back only when the dragon is still once more. Shay's clothes are bright and geared to comfort. She has on a bright yellow tunic and a belted with a nice green hide belt. Her leggings are of a green similar to the belt, as are her well-worn boots. She has a polished wooden bracelet around her wrist, inset with carved green jade runners and on her neck is a matching jade pendant swinging from a plain leather thong. She wears a small but ornate beltknife with a jade carved dragon head hilt at her waist. A well worn beltpouch of red hide bulges at the seams with her ever present charcoal sticks and small bits of scraped hide. Her knot is of black and blue strands that herald her at Weyrling at High Reaches Weyr. The narrow brown strand that winds through signifies her lifemate's coloring. Shaylar is at this moment tossing a multitude of large, colorful pillows into Gruvfeath's couch. He's sitting back on his hind quarters, warbling his encouragement and occasionally Shaylar will raise one pillow for him to see and he'll point a wingtip to one side of the couch or the other with a decisive half-trumpet. The quick movement from R'hin makes both Weyrling and Dragonet turn to look, though. "Hey, R'hin...wow. You look tired." Gruvfeath warbles a question at Shay. She walks over and rubs his headknobs affectionately before heading towards the oil vats for a bucket and paddle. "Master of the obvious," R'hin retorts, a little sourly. Unfairly, too, and he seems to recognise that a moment later. Swinging carefully out of the hammock, he moves towards Shaylar, apology unspoken but visible in the considerate query that follows, "Do you need a hand? Leiventh's still asleep," he begins, pausing briefly through the words to turn and make sure that's the case. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's mind is a quiet, unbroken hum inside yours - distant. Nothing to indicate he's awake. Shaylar raises one eyebrow at the Weyrling's retort but relaxes at the unspoken apology. She lugs the oil back towards her couch and manages a smile, "Sure. You help oil my dragon, I'll help oil yours later. I understand the tired, though. I actually started sleeping with Gruv so I can put a hand on his hide. At least I can sleep when he does and if he moves a lot, I wake up." Gruvfeath tilts his head at R'hin, eyes whirling a slow greeny-yellow. Scooping up a paddle, R'hin passes by the empty couch between them before stopping next to the pair. "Deal," he agrees. He seems to stiffen throughout Shaylar's words, particularly when she speaks of sleeping close to her dragon. His voice is careful, controlled, as he observes lightly, "You two seem like a perfect match." The weyrling, in turn, is examining Gruvfeath closely, his expression odd, almost like he's envious. Shaylar shrugs, "I pretty much cater to his every whim and he's decided to keep me." She's obviously attempting to make a joke. Gruvfeath seems to find it funny because his warble sounds very much like a chortle of laughter. R'hin's gaze is not unnoticed, however. Gruvfeath returns the gaze, tilting his head this way and that. His broad muzzle is developing a patchy spot and he dips his head towards the paddle in R'hin's hand and butts it. The movement unbalances the dragonet, though and he wobbles. Shay's hand hovers over his shoulder but she doesn't touch, giving Gruv time to recover his balance on his own. Those large wings mantle a bit and he sits back hard on his hind quarters. Those words earn R'hin's sharp attention, frown resulting. Belatedly - and unusually, for him - he recognises the joke for what it is, and offers a faint smile in turn. The not-too-subtle reminder from Gruvfeath earns a grin, as the bronze weyrling leans over the pot to scoop out some of the oil with the paddle, turning towards the brown. "He seems fond of colors," he observes wryly, head jerking towards the couch, as he waits for the dragon to still in order to apply the necessary oil. There's a faint twitch of movement from the bronze dragonet behind him, though with his back to Leiventh, R'hin remains oblivious. Shaylar grins, "That's one thing I don't mind too much. I could do without a few of the colors that make the eyes bleed, though. But he thinks they're great. Obviously our tastes don't mesh completely." Gruvfeath leans forward to let R'hin apply oil to his muzzle, first set of eyelids sliding closed to avoid getting oil in his eyes. Shay starts on his wingsails with her oil paddle and she hums softly. Gruvfeath makes a low, rumbling noise that is almost a hum in imitation. "I'd imagine they see colors differently. See -everything- differently," R'hin corrects himself adroitly, applying oil to Gruvfeath's muzzle with the expertise of a sevenday's practice - which is not all that considerable, considering plenty of it dribbles onto the floor. Shaylar and Gruvfeath's hum is joined by a third voice - a deep baritone, Leiventh's lids opening slowly as he stirs, R'hin freezing in reaction. There's a few moments of awkward flailing, the hum dying as Leiventh rolls eyes plaintively towards his rider, clearly overplaying his inability to get out of the couch. Maxeoth walks over to R'hin on seeing the oiling paddle, and nudges him lightly with his head, crooning softly. Seeing him do this, M'wen calls over, "If you wanted me to oil you, just ask...R'hin's got enough to do at the moment for you to be bothering him." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Limbs leaden... energy flagging... cannot move! Request backup! » Shaylar chuckles softly, "I suppose your right about that." Gruvfeath seems to be enjoying the oiling until R'hin stops. He warbles a question and then peers around at Leiventh, his warm warble of greeting obvious. Then he gives Maxeoth the same warm warble of greeting. Shaylar just smiles and continues to oil, but she's watching Leiventh curiously. R'hin snorts abruptly, darting a look over his shoulder at Leiventh. "I'm not going to-- you can move perfectly fine." More sorrowful looks are bestowed by Leiventh upon his rider, and R'hin weakens finally, setting aside the paddle with an apologetic smile to Maxeoth. "His Highness calls. However, I'm willing to rent out my services... for a fee." The latter's directed to M'wen, as R'hin awkwardly steps into the couch, trying not to stand on Leiventh's tail. This is made difficult by the fact that Leiventh deliberately begins squirming, shoulder knocking into the weyrling, dumping him unceremoniously on his behind. Leiventh, clearly delighted with the intended result, cheerfully greets his fellow dragons with a brassy rumble. Shaylar watches the scene in the couch with a thoughtful expression. She manages to hide her smiles at R'hin's tumble and averts her eyes to a particularly itchy spot on Gruv's shoulder. Once attended to, she gives Maxeoth a warm smile and then calls out, "Hey, M'wen. I've got plenty of oil if you want to share." Gruvfeath perks up at the sound of Leiventh's brassy rumble and he answers with a cheerful tenor one of his own that slides down towards said brassy rumble, as if he were testing out his own deeper ranges. He gets close, but falls a bit short. That doesn't seem to upset him. He warbles proudly anyway. Shaylar snorts softly, "Silly dragon." "You--!" R'hin's breathless comeback is sorely lacking, and in retaliation, he grabs Leiventh's tail, wrapping his hands around it. Leiventh shoots R'hin a look that is very obviously, 'Are you -sure- you want to do this?' before the bronze, suddenly very able to move, climbs up onto the lip of the couch, wings spread for balance. "You wouldn't." R'hin's eyes widen in abrupt alarm, "I give!" he squeaks at whatever intentions Leiventh imparted, letting go of the bronze's tail. Looking satisfied, Leiventh steps down from the couch, King of the World, until his long limbs get the best of him, and he stumbles awkwardly to the ground. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's stealing a memory from you: flat bread. He's rolling the idea around in his head. Flat R'hin? Shaylar makes certain to hide her smiles at the dragonet's tumble as well. She's not sure how sensitive the bronze is. As she swipes over the last of Gruv's hide, the brown dragon slips from under her hands and moves forward to greet his clutchmate. He is careful to move slowly, perhaps learning from Leiventh's mistake. Shay finds a rag to wipe off her hands and pads over to the edge of R'hin's couch, "Need some help?" she asks with a wry smile. R'hin can't help it; he's snickering as he climbs out of the couch after Leiventh, so the bronze can't be that hurt. "That's what you get for playing overlord. He's fine," he's quick to assist Leiventh this time, the dragon righting himself again with his rider's help, undaunted by the spill. Leiventh proceeds to lean heavily against R'hin, deliberate, putting his rider off balance before moving towards Gruvfeath with the awkward, lumbering speed of a recently hatched dragon. "I am not going to race you!" R'hin retorts, once he regains his balance, glowering with arms folded across his chest. Leiventh gives a pointed look over his shoulder, and continues, directing the challenge to Gruvfeath instead, eyes whirling with curiousity and delight. "I think I could use plenty of help, but probably not the help you mean," he answers Shaylar with a wry, tired smile. "You think they'll always be like this? Yes, I -know- you can hear me, Leiventh." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Hello? First-born in earshot. » Shaylar chuckles softly, "What, overeager and awkward? Or did you mean something else? Leiventh certainly seems to have personality and lots of it. I doubt he'll grow out of that, much. Like Gruv's love of color. Some things they won't outgrow, I imagine." As she talks, Gruvfeath bugles lightly at the obvious challenge, mantling his wings further and setting off at a clumsy run to match Leiventh's speed. Shaylar actually covers her eyes with her fingers, peeking through, "I will NOT coddle him if he breaks his neck. I won't." R'hin leans back against the edge of the couch, studying Shaylar sidelong. "Yeah, that," he agrees far too lightly, "And Leiventh's got personality in spades, which is half the problem." He exhales long-sufferingly at the other weyrling's guess, expression rueful. "Thanks for the comforting words." Pale blue eyes are drawn to the race, lips twitching despite himself. Pleased by the encouragement and company, Leiventh's awkward lumber continues, largely matching Gruvfeath's speed until - abruptly, and one might guess deliberately - he stretches one wing, knocking the oil barrel over. This, of course, creates a slick, slippery surface, and Leiventh goes skidding for a big before falling into a heap. If the pleased warble is anything to judge by, the bronze is uninjured. "Shellin' dragon," R'hin's half muttering, half laughing as he pushes himself away from the couch. "Who do you think has to clean that up? Don't play injured, I -know- you're fine." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Whups. Did I do that? --Oh, I mean, oww, my leg! » Shaylar gasps as Leiventh empties the oil in the floor and slips into a heap. Inevitably, Gruvfeath is caught by the spill as well, and his overlarge wings snap to their full span for just a moment, allowing Gruv to glide/skate a bit farther than Leiventh before his wings are too heavy and they fall, dragging him into a rolling, tumbling heap. He ends up splayed against the far wall, emitting a comical, questioning creel just before he falls on his snout. Shaylar burst into laughter then. Gruv is obviously okay, "Yes, you beat him, silly dragon. But I don't know if that's a compliment or not." Maxeoth looks at Leiventh with a challanging glare upon hereing R'hin mentioning racing, and walks over quite steadily for a dragonet towards Leiventh, until he encounters an oil slick and falls over in a heap. M'wen chuckles at the mayhem in the middle of the room and walks over nearer to the others, carefully avoiding any oil on the ground. Leiventh seems distinctly pleased by the results - the mess, as well as Gruvfeath's win. He trills a congratulations to the brown, sorting out his limbs before starting to stand again... and slipping right back into a heap as the slick oil prevents him getting a proper footing. He couldn't look less like the member of a proud, upstanding protector of Pern if he tried. "He's fast," R'hin compliments Shaylar as he moves towards the edge of the spill, grimacing. "I'll get the mops," he adds, trotting off to the side of the barracks to retrieve mop and buckets. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Uh, a little help here? » Shaylar snorts, "I'm surprised he didn't trip over Leiventh and make a bigger mess. He's still wobbly." She says this very quietly, so as not to let Gruv hear. She sighs and thanks R'hin for her mop and beings to clean up. She gives Gruv a stern look as he looks about ready to move back into the mess and 'help'. "You rest right there, Gruvfeath. Until we've cleaned this up. Then it'll be time to eat, I'd wager." Yup, she's got her 'nanny helper' voice on. Gruvfeath looks a little disappointed to the point of pouting as he sits on his haunches, wings spread about him. Maxeoth acts the good little dragon and hop's down into his couch, so as not to spread the mess anymore. M'wen looks over at R'hin, "Would you like some help with that? I'd be happy to...well not really, but might as well show some common courtesy." "No way I'm ending up on my behind again," R'hin says, apparently directing this towards some comment of Leiventh's. "Besides, you needed oiling anyway. You can just wait until we're done with -your- mess," the bronze weyrling takes his own mop and starts at the edge of the spill, working his way inwards. Leiventh, not content with R'hin's advice, makes another attempt at standing, and manages a step or two before sliding into another comical heap. M'wen receives a faintly surprised look from R'hin, though he recovers quickly, "Thanks," he says, not hiding the surprise in his voice, either, eyes flickering towards Maxeoth. "Maxeoth seems well behaved," he observes, and there's something like envy in his voice. M'wen grabs a mop, starting on the side opposite side of the oil. "It's no problem...I know the troubles of having an over-active dragon. But Maxeoth is getting better daily, but still eats like crazy." He continues mopping, humming to himself, with Maxeoth lying in the couch humming along, slightly off tune. "Over-active is one way of putting it." R'hin slides a pointed glance in Leiventh's direction, the dragon affecting an innocent expression, one no doubt learnt from his rider. Leiventh stretches out a wing to try and balance himself as he makes another flailed dash for the edge of the spill - again unsuccessful. He pauses, turns his head towards Maxeoth, and contributes to the tune with a bassy hum - though his is less off tune. "I can't wait until they can hunt," he says, fervently as he rinses out the mop in the bucket, starting on a new section of the spill. Maxeoth does a little bugle at Leiventh, that sounds almost as if he was scolding him for spilling the oil. M'wen says, "Yeah, constant feeding is quite tiring, but I won't complain about spending time with my dragon, whether it be feeding or whatever..." Leiventh doesn't have the grace to look sheepish; if anything, he looks pleased at the rebuke from Maxeoth. His attempts to move largely hindered by the slick oil, his head turns in R'hin's direction as his rider slowly nears him with the mop. The considering look R'hin gives M'wen could be easily unnoticed. "So you're happy? I mean, it's like all the Harper's tales, a perfect match?" It seems, perhaps, an odd question, but he could simply be concerned for his fellow weyrling's wellbeing. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You want to swap me for -him-? He can't even hold a tune! » M'wen shrugs his shoulder, "Maxeoth chose me, and I don't regret it a bit...I don't know about perfect, but I think it was.", then he looks a bit confused, "The way you say that it almost sounds like you aren't happy with the goings on..." R'hin's head swings sharply to look at Leiventh, tense all of a sudden. "No," he says firmly, in response to the bronze's silent query. He leans on the mop for a moment, looking tired as he shakes his head at M'wen's observation. "I'm just tired, M'wen. Haven't been sleeping all that well." Leiventh, for his part, is staring at R'hin intently, perfectly still, earning another darted glance from his rider. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You forget, R'hin, I know you better than anyone. » It's an odd echo of the words spoken while he was sleeping on the night of his hatching; perhaps he was digging in your memories again. « You're uncomfortable. » M'wen nods his head, "I don't know how you couldn't be happy with your dragon but...well I was just asking is all..." Then finishing up mopping his half, he cleans of the mop and returns it to the corner. Maxeoth gives a little creel of hunger and M'wen rolls his eyes. Throwing a piece of meat down to Maxeoth, M'wen mentions, "Just try and get some rest, from what i'm guessing, it'll only get harder...so might as well keep up your energy." R'hin nods to himself at M'wen's words, as if having confirmed some sort of theory. His eyes, however, are still on Leiventh's. "He knows me better than anyone," he acknowledges, an odd if truthful kind of answer. He exhales slowly, at much the same time as Leiventh turns attention back to the problem at hand, wings held out for additional balance, neck twisting as he peers down at his underbelly. Grinning abruptly, R'hin agrees as he resumes mopping, "So -they- keep saying. We can only do what we can do, though. Just because we belong to the 'Reaches, doesn't mean we have to conform." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You're off the hook for now. Keep mopping, I've got oil dribbling in -very- uncomfortable places. » M'wen's eyes narrow at R'hin's last comment. "Does it make you feel better about yourself breaking every rule in sight? We have to be together for who know's how long, and I'd appriciate it if you didn't cause trouble wherever it is to be found." Sensing M'wen's irritation, Maxeoth's eye's show a small whirl of orange. Shaylar comes back from somewhere with Gruvfeath and eyes the two Weyrling's who seem to be having an argument, "What's rules are we breaking tonight?" This is a cautiously curious question. Gruvfeath trails along after Shaylar sluggishly. The baby dragon is tired. R'hin's worked his way through the puddle of oil with M'wen's help, and has almost made it to Leiventh's side. "I didn't say anything about breaking rules," he corrects, adroitly, acknowledging Shaylar's return with a flickered smile. "There's a difference between following the rules and being an unquestioning drudge, that's all I'm saying." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « I'm pretty sure they don't get it, you know? They're not like you, or me. They have... » he pauses, sifting through your thoughts for a suitable adjective, « ...morals. » Maxeoth yawns and lays his head back down on his forearm's. "There is a difference, but from what I've seen from you before, you don't seem to be capable of either." M'wen counters. After exhaling loudly, "You know what...I'll get off your back, do what you want, it'll be you on the line, not me. I'll try to stop pushing my morals onto you." Shaylar ponders R'hin's words and nods, "Depends on the situation, I suppose." With that, she scritches Gruv's eyeridges a bit and points towards the couch, "If you're sleepy, go sleep. No, I'm going to stay here. I'll be right here. Oh comeon! You're always in my head. I'll always be with you, silly wherry." R'hin pauses to consider M'wen's observation, and concedes, "Guilty as charged." The grin he's got is directed towards Leiventh, and as he mops around the dragon, one hand unconsciously brushes over the dragon's hide as works. With a wink to M'wen, he responds, "Why stop now? Maja does it all the time. You could start up a fan club together." The words are offered facetiously, accompanied by a breezy wave of hand in the direction of Vesereth's couch. He does, however, nod towards Shaylar, "Very true. I'll take that." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You think I could get a fan club? » Gruvfeath dives into Shaylar and Gruvfeath's Pillow Pit Couch. Gruvfeath has left. Maxeoth climbs down into Maxeoth's Couch. Maxeoth has left. On the perch, Aurum chatters, because that is something firelizards do, even the gold ones. Shaylar glances up at the firelizard on the perch and wriggles her fingers her before she raises an eyebrow in the direction of her couch, "Yup. Still here." Then she glances down at the oil mess and grabs a mop to help R'hin finish the last little bit of it. "What rule were we not breaking, anyway?" she asks as she swishes the mop about. M'wen narrows his eyes again, "I am -not- like Maja. I have no grudge or disrespect to you, but it seems whenever there's a comment about any such rule or disipline, you just start going off on how you don't have to follow it. -You- are no better then the rest of us, and thinking like that won't help you in anything except your own ego." R'hin's amused snort is accompanied by an absently fond brush to Leiventh's muzzle, working some of the oil in. "You've -got- a fan club, Leiventh, but he's busy cleaning up after you right now." A few more passes clears the floor of the remaining oil, before he puts mop and bucket away. Leiventh's curiously watching his fellow clutchmates, a little warble of disappointment escaping him at their departure. "Nothing in particular. It was just a general observation, not well taken it would seem." Crouching by Leiventh, he begins working some of the splashed oil into the dragon's hide, no small task given the copious amounts he's acquired. He pauses in the task long enough to give M'wen another considering look, taken aback at the reaction. "Sorry," R'hin apologises, surprisingly, "I didn't mean to compare you to Maja." He doesn't, noticeably, apologise for anything else he's said. Shaylar looks from M'wen to R'hin and back again. She relaxes a bit when R'hin doesn't seem inclined to argue with M'wen. She does glance at Maxeoth's couch though, "Is he sleeping, M'wen? You know we shouldn't upset them. The WeyrlingMaster's said so. Let S'din handle R'hin. I'm looking forward to watching that battle throughout Weyrlinghood." This last is said with wink in R'hin's direction. She then leans down and offers her hands helping smooth oil on Leiventh, "Hey, I promised to retaliate the favor. Need help?" M'wen shakes his head at Shaylar's question, "No he's not sleeping, just pretending to be asleep so he can hear all what's going on without anything bothering him.", Then after some thought, "I'd rather not start any arguements with R'hin this early into weyrlinghood, or at all in fact, as it really won't achieve anything. But if he cares to continue, I won't back down." "Thanks," R'hin says, sincerely, accepting Shaylar's offer with a grateful nod of his head. Leiventh turns to examine Shaylar curiously, shifting his weight slightly to deliberately nudge her with his shoulder. "It will be a battle of epic proportions," R'hin continues, arms spread grandly, "With only one left standing!" His hands drop, and he resumes his ministrations on Leiventh, casting a grin at M'wen, pleased by the other weyrling's stalwart stance. "Shall we schedule for later, then? I've got a pretty full plate, what with owed business to Maja, too." Shaylar rolls her eyes, "Men and Maja." Then she begins to smooth oil over Leiventh's neckridges with a warm smile at the bronze dragon. His shoulder nudge is returned gently with one of her own before Shaylar plants her feet a little more firmly. She sighs at what seems like nothing after a moment, "Yes, I'm still here. No I don't want to come see that lovely green and purple star-shaped pillow. You're picture in my head is quite enough, thank you." Her smile is wry and she shakes her head a bit. Maxeoth climbs up from Maxeoth's Couch. Maxeoth has arrived. Maxeoth nudges Shaylar's arm, hoping for a bit of the oil. "Can I have a bit of oil?" M'wen asks, walking over to where Maxeoth is. "As you can see, I think he needs it." R'hin flashes a grin at Shaylar over Leiventh's back. "She'd be -very- upset if she heard you put her in that category," he observes wryly, expression changing as eyes flicker back to Leiventh, and he asks, "Where? Hm. There? Okay." He rubs at a particularly rough patch. Chuckling at Shaylar and throwing a glance in Gruvfeath's direction, he adds sympathetically, "I'm a little disturbed, and I can't even see the pillow. Remind me to close my eyes whenever I pass by Gruvfeath's couch?" Leiventh puffs a little, peering around Shaylar to eye Maxeoth, though he seems welcoming enough; he simply wants to impart the opinion that the brown should've dived in when he'd thoughtful spread it all over the floor. Shaylar chuckles softly at R'hin, "Yes, do. At least I mostly only sleep in there. Its distracting when I need to read or do hidework." To Maxeoth, she offers an oil slicked hand in greeting, right over the closest eyeridge. She then gestures at the buckets of mopped up oil, "Help yourself, M'wen. There's plenty to go around." "Hidework?" R'hin picks up on that, in dismay. His attention, however, is swiftly distracted by Leiventh, and he resumes oiling, concentrating on that for the time being. Maxeoth closes his eyes, enjoying Shaylar's eye-rub immensely. M'wen puts a bit of oil on Maxeoth's side and rubs it in, Maxeoth crooning in enjoyment. "If Gruvfeath isn't too tired, you should bring him out, I'm sure he'd love an oiling." Says M'wen, smileing. Shaylar snorts, "He was sleepy a moment ago, and swore he wanted to sleep. At the momemt, he's trying to lure me back to the couch by showing me images of his 'favorite pillows'." At that moment, Gruvfeath's head pops up over the edge of the couch, a pillow balanced carefully between his headknobs. This one is a fluffy pink, round one. Shaylar can't help but laugh. M'wen laughs at Gruvfeath's antics, while rubbing oil into Maxeoth's hide. "Is that better then?" he asks him. Maxeoth turns his head so he's looking directly in M'wen's eyes, and M'wen scratches his eye-ridge. Then Maxeoth jumps down into his couch. Maxeoth climbs down into Maxeoth's Couch. Maxeoth has left. Shaylar smiles at M'wen and Maxeoth, "He going to sleep now?" As she pays attention to someone else, Gruvfeath diappears again. That little poof of pink stays near the edge of the couch, though. He hasn't moved much. M'wen shakes his head, "Nah, he just likes frolicking about, and jumping in the couch seems to be the activity of the day." And true to his word, a big brown head pop's up and bugles loudly, causing all nearby to wince. Shaylar winces a bit and then narrows her eyes at her couch, "Don't you..." too late. A matching bugle echoes from Gruvfeath's couch, "Little showoff." It shouldn't be any great surprise that Leiventh, too, joins in the chorus, much to R'hin's dismay, since he's standing beside him. "...ow!" Shaylar giggles even as she winces and then sobers when one of the other Weyrlings yells epiteths from three couches down. "Gruv, shush! You're keeping your clutchmates up." "You and I are going to have a serious talk about volume, very soon." R'hin says, eyeing Leiventh meaningfully. The bronze, however, seems distinctly pleased with himself, craning his neck around to peer at his clutchmates in obvious relish. With a snort, R'hin resumes wiping away the last of the excess oil from Leiventh's hide. "Don't worry, it's only Priya. She's always sore about -something-," the bronze weyrling says, none-too-quietly. The yell that follows the remark earns a grin from R'hin, "See?" Maxeoth looks a bit sorry about causing discomfort to his lifemate, then when M'wen turns and scratches his eye-ridge, he looks happy again, crooning softly as to not bother anyone. S'din strolls in from the weyrling training room. S'din has arrived. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Esrieth says that her rider isn't sore. She's just misunderstood. » S'din strides into the barracks and pauses just inside the doorway to see what, if anything, happens at his entrance. Maxeoth lets out a little rumble towards the new person who just walked in. R'hin hunts around for a rag to wipe off the oil coating his hands, glancing anew at Leiventh and choking back an abrupt laugh, turning it into a pointed cough. Judging by the flickered glance both he and Leiventh send towards the green weyrling, Priya seems to be the object of discussion. "Women -never- say what they mean," R'hin mock-confides to Leiventh. Judging by the glare Priya's giving them, she's well aware of the attention, and very unhappy about it. Neither of the weyrlings in question seem to notice S'din's entrance. Shaylar smiles a bit at R'hin's observation and the confirmation thereof. She moves over to the edge of her couch and looks down, "Either go to sleep or come out here, silly." She rolls her eyes. People outside the couch will see the bright pink poof of the pillow still resting between Gruv's headknobs as he moves towards the edge of the couch. Then his whole head is visible. Shaylar abruptly spins and sees S'din, obviously tipped off by her lifemate. She salutes. Its not a great salute and she's not at attention, but its a salute. S'din sighs and shakes his head slowly. He steps out into the center of the barracks and shouts suddenly and loudly, "Attention! Weyrlingmaster present!" M'wen jumps a bit at the shout, wheeling about on his heel, and stopping abruptly, facing S'din. Maxeoth jumping down into his couch from the noise. Slinging the rag over his shoulder, R'hin turns, the loud voice gaining his attention. "Ow. See, Leiventh? -That- was loud. No, don't--" Leiventh appears to take his rider's words as challenge, and lets out another bugle. R'hin, for his part, sighs, straightening as he faces S'din. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « I win! » Shaylar straightens up a bit more and Gruvfeath climbs out of the couch to stand beside her. She glances over a bit and her eyes widen. She reaches over and knocks the pink pillow off Gruvfeath's head. It falls back into the couch. Then both weyrlings face S'din with serious expressions. S'din slowly stalks down the ranks of new Weyrlings, shaking his head. After a full pass and review, then turns once again to look the whole class over. Probably looking for anyone collapsed on the floor yet. It's hard to tell if he's happy or disappointed to see no one face-down yet. He takes a breath and says, "To be honest, I'm a little surprised at how quiet it is in here!" He wait long moments before continuing, making you wonder if he'd expected a response, "Carry on!" "It's not a competition," R'hin's muttering under his breath, a quiet rebuke. Leiventh seems undaunted - in fact, he's looking rather smug. The weyrling, though not face down, certainly looks exhausted, if his red-rimmed eyes are anything to judge by. In the pause offered so tantalisingly by S'din, he points out of the quiet, "You wanted our attention." A brief, but noticeable pause of his own. "Sir." S'din strides over to R'hin as the Weyrlings begin to go about their own exhausted ways again and slaps the young man on the shoulder, "Ah, I too was once like you, full of myself and sure of my knowledge and how much more right I was." He flashes a broad smile at the Weyrling, "But trust me, Weyrling: if you try to go toe-to-toe with me, you'll lose." He turns his back on him and begins to circulate around the barracks, seeing how everyone is settling in. "That's what everyone keeps telling me, sir." R'hin's eyes narrow briefly, but only when S'din slaps him. His voice, however, remains politely even: "I'd hasten to say that you're still very sure of yourself and your knowledge of people you barely know. Sir." He even adds a salute at the end. Leiventh's watching S'din fixedly, but probably only because R'hin's attention is focused on him, too. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's thoughts are focusing on the Weyrlingmaster, with some bemusement. « He is very full of something, don't you think, R'hin? » S'din glances back over his shoulder and says quietly to R'hin, "Yes, you could say that. However, *I* know what you're in for for the next two turns and I have a whole sharding lot more turns on me than you do on you. Jays, you don't even completely know *yourself* yet, how am *I* supposed to? And by that same token, I know myself a whole lot better than you do. So don't *you* go making snap judgements either, boy." Shaylar smacks Gruv lightly with the pillow and laughs, "You won't ever look that silly, I promise. Unless you decide to try wearing my gather dress. Not that it would fit..." Shaylar trails off but keeps gesturing as if conversing with her lifemate. She finally tosses the pillow back into the couch and Gruvfeath follows it. Shaylar seems to relax a bit after a few moments and a final glance back into the couch to make sure Gruv's asleep. "I'm only following the example you set," R'hin points out evenly, his eyes following S'din, "Sir. You are our role model, are you not?" S'din barks a laugh, "Oh, that I am, young one, but I am what you *will be*, and not what you *are*! Remember your place and how much you have left to learn. Don't worry, I'll tell you when you've gotten to where I am." "Isn't that what I just said?" R'hin's face is a picture of confusion. He even glances to Leiventh, whose expression is a comical blankness; the bronze is busy trying to hook the rag from R'hin's shoulder with his teeth, and freezes when he's busted. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You could try hiding behind me? » Shaylar gives R'hin a look that clearly says 'You Are Crazy'. Then she settles on the edge of her colorful couch and pulls a journal from under a bright red pillow. She pulls her knees up and uses them as a writing surface. S'din chuckles and shakes his head, "Apparently not. Carry on, Weyrling." and this time, he really does turn his back and walk away, this time toward Shaylar. "I'm fairly sure that's what I just said," R'hin repeats, muttering. "Maybe I need to use shorter words." Mouth twists wryly as he eyes Leiventh. "You need to be bigger for that to work. Give it a couple of turns." He quickly snatches the rag before Leiventh can get it. S'din either didn't hear what R'hin said or is ignoring him wonderfully. He stops in front of Shaylar and nods to the dozing Gruv and says in a soft voice, "How are you both holding up?" Shaylar looks up and sees that S'din is coming over. She scrambles up, journal dangling from her hands, "Hello, sir." The greeting is cheerful but a wee bit unsure. "Um...how's your lifemate today?" she asks suddenly. S'din chuckles and says, "Melisandeth's fine. Practicing up on your rider small-talk?" Shaylar grins wryly, "Seems like a good thing to do, don't you think?" A quiet warble from behind her makes her roll her eyes, "You are supposed to be asleep, Gruvy," she mutters. S'din chuckles and says, "Don't expect too much in the way of obedience this early on, Weyrling. Just try to make sure he doesn't hurt himself is all. That's the best you can hope for currently." With a nudge, R'hin jerks his head towards Leiventh's couch, his intentions clear. "Definitely not pulling the couch over to you. You'll just have to walk," he says, before adding, "No, you can't borrow another's couch. It's not -that- far." His words subside to muttering as he coaxes Leiventh along, before the bronze abruptly seems to decide he -wants- to go, and his skittering, awkward lumber is almost as fast as the race of earlier. Shaylar nods, "I try to keep him out of trouble, but he's a bit of a show off. Luckily he's happy making a fool of himself with or without the physically challenging tricks." She glances over at the oily splotch on the far wall of the barracks with a grin, "Most of the time." Leiventh finally makes it to his couch, and R'hin's not too far behind. |
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