Logs:That First Feeding
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| RL Date: 19 July, 2008 |
| Who: Paige, D'kai, Berit, A'riste, X'den, Jendel, Nerine, P'draig, S'fox |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The bewildered weyrlings, stumbling in one by one, give their new lifemates their first meals and settle into the weyrling barracks. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 2, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
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| "Keseth," Jendel proudly replies to P'draig, the smirk on her face getting bigger by the second. Keseth eagerly accepts the meat Jendel offers. He chews happily and pushes Jendel's hand for seconds. « More, more! » A'riste pretty much just starts shoveling food into Valioth - with his hands - as fast as the bronze will devour it. "Fine," he whispers. "Fine. Ah, Shards, I didn't expect this at all." Jendel looks back down at the wedge-shaped head pushing against her hand. "Aye, aye, hang on!" Jendel is quick grabbing another piece of meat for the brown, and giving it to the ever hungry maw - repeat process! "Keseth and Valioth," P'draig echoes and moves to intercept a bucket of oil being lashed by a little blue's tail. "Careful there," he murmurs to both weyrling and dragon. Valioth looks up at A'riste briefly, examining him further. « What /did/ you expect, boss? » There's actually a hint of humor in that question as the bronzeling keeps on eating. X'den has arrived. Keseth pauses eating long enough to stare at Jendel. « You're good at this. Can I have more? » It's a madhouse in the Barracks. Hungry dragonets eating with bloody muzzles. Oil already being applied in a corner here and there and there's one bucket that P'draig didn't manage to save from a spill. The Weyrlingmaster looks up again as more Weyrlings and dragonets flood the space. He moves to intercept the latest pairs, a bowl of meat in each hand. "Food here, make sure they chew before swallowing and that they don't bite their tongues. Paige half-stumbles in, face still green-tinged and lunch - still splattered all down her robe and feet. But the newly sick is also the newly Impressed, and so her wavering smile is brilliant, even if her appearance is anything but. And there's a tiny green accompanying her. Still, the new weyrling looks utterly lost when she first gets in; it takes a moment for her to take a bowl of meat from P'draig, but she soon does so, squirming through the chaos to try to find a spot to start that first feeding. Berit has arrived. Acadia moves through the increasing crowd, giving advice on how to oil squirmy dragonets, and reminding the weyrlings to get into the little cracks and soothe the itching. Jendel looks at Keseth, blinking, as if wondering how much more she needed to fill this thing up! However, she winks at the brown, "Got it," and there's more of the bloody stuff going down the eager, gaping maw of this hungry brown! A'riste studies Valioth right back, his expression perplexed. "I don't know. Not this, not you-" And because those words could be taken hard, he adds very softly, "Not that I regret you, oh no." He hasn't smiled since he's stepped onto the sands and he still isn't, but there's something quite tenderly gentle in his gaze. Tiasheth picks her way carefully across the messy floor, looking a little ... aghast at the state of the place, but she nudges gently at Paige once they've found that spot and looks up expectantly, maw daintily open. She's a lady and not about to make /more/ mess. X'den sweeps in...not really. It's more like a dazed shuffle and he's getting his hands rather messy on the sticky-sand-egg gunk on his new lifemate's lovely blueness. He doesn't say anything, he's a man on a quest here. He goes right for the food, not so delicately pushing his way between two other weyrlings so he can get food. He's not too...shy about getting food for his lifemate. More chaos! More craziness! One brown has started playing with his food over there in the corner and P'draig lifts his voice to carry. "Food in mouths please! If they're not hungry anymore, oil and encourage a nap!" Then it's back to meeting the incoming. "X'den, what's his name?" And another set of bowls put out with cubes of meat inside. Keseth slows down as his stomachs fill up. But now his tail keeps twitching. « I don't like how this feels. What's wrong with my tail? It won't stop moving! » Nerine has arrived. S'fox has arrived. X'den delicately offers out a strip of meat, careful not to drip. Or at least that's his thought of things. He doesn't look up right away as his new name is called and it's only a sharp jab in the ribs from a fellow weyrling that brings his head up, "huh? Oh. Zhoroth!." Dazed, that's X'den right now. Paige hunkers down a bit and carefully begins placing a few pieces in Tiasheth's expectant maw, greenness fading to be replaced with an immediate concern. "They said y'gotta chew, " she says softly, reaching up with the non-bloody hand to touch the little dragon's head wonderingly. "And dun bite yer tongue. And be careful." Babble. Dekelvai has arrived. Jendel says, "Erm..." and now even she seems confused, as she kneels down to inspect the tail. She looks it over really well, before trying to feel it, "Maybe it's... itchy?" T'aren has arrived. Nerine stumbles in, still surprised that Zerith is with her. Warned by the dazed expression on her face, one of the Weyrling staff brings her a bowl of meat and shows her how to feed her new lifemate. Valioth looks back at A'riste, keen-eyed himself and munches on the next bit of meat. « Better not, boss. You're stuck with me. » And he'd grin devilishly, likely, if he were human. As it is, he just chews and narrows his gaze out at the others. « Interesting, maybe? » Keseth's tail stops moving for a minute. « Itchy, huh. Can you make it stop? I can't eat any more until it stops. » "Food here, oil there!" P'draig's still calling out those instructions as the last of the Weyrlings trickle in. "Make sure they /chew/ when they're eating and get the oil on all over when they start telling you they itch!" He looks up as T'aren and S'fox make it in too and waves. "When they've all eaten and you're oiling, gather around a little, I've some things to tell you before you all keel over!" Tiasheth is a smart dragon, or perhaps simply a mannerful one: chewing poses no problem for her, and she picks up the new skill readily. She tips her head to brush her glowing headknobs against Paige's hand as she eats. « Thank you, dear. I will be very careful, but please, watch your fingers, too. Are you feeling better now? Earlier-- » The green trails off, with an unpleasant twist of her own stomach in sympathy. Jendel's gaze fixates on P'draig for a minute as he repeats his announcement - again - though only now she takes action on the announcement. "Shure, jus' a sec," and with that, Jendel makes a mad rush for the oil, and a mad rush back towards Keseth. She slobs some oil onto a paddle, and then begins slathering it all over the already itching tail. "'sit feelin' better?" Zhoroth saunters lazily behind X'den, when the pair enter the barracks, but the tantalizing smell of the meat soon has his full attention. Gitar strains race into higher pitches, though no less pleasing to the mental ear. « X'den, what is that delicious odor? I cannot really 'splain it, but I would like whatever it is to touch my tongue. Is that possible? » Hints of an exotic accent accompany the blue's deep-voiced words as the spice which laces through his touch only intensifies. A'riste looks up, too, his eyes still wide and nearly unseeing. "...You're very interesting, if that's what you mean." Xhai- X'den, he counts among the others. Nerine, Paige. Somehow, he manages to feed Valioth, his movements absolutely automatic. But he looks for others, too. Promises were made; were they kept? "Bit better, " Paige admits with a softer, more easier smile, continuing the steady feeding each time the green's maw drops open again. "I - I've jus' been so /scared/, " she adds in a hushed, rushed whisper; even if her words aren't too audible above the hungry dragonets and scurrying weyrlings, there's a reflection of that thought heavily in her head - and a sigh of relief, both mental and verbal. "But yer here now. Yer here. I'm here. We're here." After getting the last little weyrling set up, S'fox flops inelegantly down himself, sprawling his long legs somewhere just out of the way, lest he end up tripping a clumsy baby dragon. "Well, that was fun," he announces as he gains a few minutes of break. Just until someone's calling for oil or more food, when he has to get back on his feet and start that way, too, with a good-natured sigh. Keseth's tail calms down as the soothing oil stops the itch. « Much better. This is oil? I like it, but not as much as food. » His eyes are spinning more slowly now, and his belly bulges with food. D'kai's still stunned, running hands over Mikhuth's angular shape, even as the bronze shakes himself off and steps away with an amused whirling glance cast up the boy's way. « What're you, then, boy, too dazed to feed yer own dragon? This way, this way, I ken smell it and ye should be well able, too, then, hup hup off to it aren't we? » There's nothing Deke can do but nod in agreement, rather overwhelmed with this barrage, and he's nudged and pushed towards the meat-laden bowls, which he accepts rather mechanically and slumps, cross-legged, to the floor next to the bronzeling, who promptly opens his mouth and sets up again with the chatter. D'kai can manage only a weak smile to the room at large before he sets to work, carefully instructing Mikhuth to chew, Micky, chew! But for along moment his gaze lingers on A'riste, and he smiles, carefully, to the other now-bronze weyrling. X'den gives his head a bit of a toss and waggles the strip of meat just a little so that his lifemate can see it. He takes a deep breath in, as though he really can 'smell' it too and then crinkles up his nose. "Ah...it's meat. Okay, open your mouth...and when I put it on your tongue, hold it out....ok...then you put your teeth on it and grind it up." That seems like a resonable way to explain it. Jendel smirks at Keseth's relief. Ah, good. "Now, lessee... I shuld prob'ly jus' oil ye now, b'fore y'get any more itches." And Jendel sets out to do just that, taking the paddle and smearing the oil all over the young brown dragon. « No, you don't have to be scared now, » agrees Tiasheth, with a bright laugh for the reassurances of her rider's health. But a moment later, she considers, « You don't mind handling this food, do you, Paige? I'm sure I can do it for myself, if it makes you feel ill again. » She reaches her foxish nose over to nudge some of the meat, lipping a piece up to eat herself. Nerine manages to feed Zerith amid reminders to chew slowly, until her little green belly is full. Zerith is content to drape herself as best as possible over Nerine's lap for the oiling, enjoying how it feels on her headknobs. « You are very good at this. I like it. » Paige shakes her head vigorously, even if her stomach still feels like doing cartwheels. "Naw. I mean, yeah. But - s'doesn' matter anymore, Tiasheth. I wanna feed ya. I'll do - anythin' fer ya, even if'n it dun sit well with me." But she can't help giving the little green a proud look as she pulls up a piece for herself. "But tha' might help yer feedin' go faster, " she concedes a moment later, offering up a few more chunks. Zhoroth seems slightly perplexed by the directions he's given, but the trust given X'den is implicit, so the dragon's tongue lolls out. The tongue touches the meat and a shiver of pleasure ripples through his mindtouch, « Ohh-ho-ho! » And then the meat is regarded as though it was some coy mistress playing a game. All the while, the sensation of blood invades X'den's mouth through the touch. The blue snatches the meat, drawing it into place it amongst his teeth and grind he does, taking his time at first, « Like dis, X'den? » Chew. Chew. Chew. Chew. Chew. Chew. « Is der a point at which dis is-- eh, too much? » A'riste stares as D'kai comes into view, and nods once, sharply. His hands are full of dripping red gooey stuff that he'd normally be squealing in dismay about touching, and yet he's just stuffing his bronze full. "We all- all of us." And he looks to X'den, next, and then Berit, and Nerine, Paige, Jendel. "...I'll have to write us another song now." X'den shudders a little at the...'taste' and his shoulders do a little hickup movement as he sares at his dragon, "oh shards..." he closes his eyes, looking a little ill at ease now. "that's good. Ok, now you swollow it." Weakly he does a gulping movement and points his hand to his throat so the dragon can see and then offers out another bit of meat. "I really hope that it starts tasting better to /me/ soon though." He lifts his head once he's sure that his lifemate is not going to suck down the piece whole and grins weakly. "Good luck with the dragon names fitting in." T'aren calls to Aeriste as he moves across the room carrying an oil vat, replenishing supplies. "Might as well just go zzz-zzz-zzz through part of it." The man's voice is raised in jest and he flicks fingers towards the gold, blue, and green in turn who share that particular starting sound, despite how different all the names sound when pronounced. Valioth takes another bite from the handful that A'riste extends then looks away, chewing and swallowing. « Think I'm full now, boss. » A little pause as he squints over at Mikhuth, assessing the other bronze. A moment later his head whips back around towards his Weyrling though and he pushes his muzzle up close to the lad's face. « Song? » Whirling eyes might be just a little disconcerting that close. « Also, my back itches, boss. Gonna do something about that? » Zibeth, for her part is already tucking away into the meat. Where usually she'll be quite lady-like in her consumption, its as though she hasn't eaten for days (which, really, she never has!) so her appetite is voracious and there's no sense in wasting good manners when everyone else is ovining things away just as she is. Cream paints a backdrop as she speaks to Berit, « Oh my, this really is most divine, Berit. Will there be more like this? I-- ooh! » She stops short in surprise, back arching and wings wiggling a bit. « Well /that/ is far from divine! » The sensation of suddenly being quite itchy is shared to the former weaver. Zerith grows impatient with the oiling and shifts her weight off Nerine's lap to nudge at an empty bowl. She licks it a couple of times with her tongue before accidentally flicking it into a spilled oil puddle. She flicks her tongue in and out a few times and shakes her head, but can't get rid of the taste. « Yuck! This food does not taste good at all! » Nerine gets more meat from a Weyrling staff member and lets her eat that. "That was oil on the floor, Zerith. You don't eat that, you wear it on your hide." Zerith emphatically agrees as she finishes off the new food, careful to keep her tongue in her jaws this time. For Valioth's look, Mikhuth has one of his own, unimpressed and undaunted before he jerks his head in a greeting of sorts. It's all the attention he can spare from D'kai--or perhaps more accurately, the food D'kai offers. « Yeah, yeah. 'M workin' on it already, » he answers the demands to chew by doing no such thing. Instead, he reaches to slap at the meat, enjoying the splatter it makes before he wolfs it down--which at least makes him shut up, just a little, for the time being. A'riste sets the rest of the meat down, and then stares down at his hands in dismay- now he notices. Ugh. The smell of it on his dragonet's breath is no better, but he controls his face enough not to wince. Fortunately, he's tended to an itchy dragon before, so he looks around. "P'draig." He still sounds a little disconnected. "Valioth itches. I saw someone with oil... That's for your hide," he adds to his bronze. "Don't eat it." Tiasheth is still endeavoring to feed herself -- she's clumsier at it than she would perhaps like, but she's also persistant in trying, waving off Paige with a flick of her tail. « Perhaps you'd like to oil me instead, » the green suggests, « and I can finish eating. And we'll be done all the more quickly if we work together--and then we can go rest. I'd like that very much. » Though she's still clearly thinking of Paige's own well-being at the same time. A'riste adds quite distractedly to T'aren, "The alliteration'll help, actually, build up a rhythm, I'll space out the others between." Bearing through a whole hatching is tiring enough without adding a dragon to it! Berit is sitting back on her heels, her robe spread in a most unladylike manner, as she watches Zibeth closely with heavy-lidded eyes. It is a new, filling sensation, or it was, until that itching is passed along. "Oh, dear. What are we going do about that.." she says with a frown, looking around for an easy solution - even if she has new counterpart, she is still the same, untried girl she was before. "Are you *positive* that *stuff* takes divine? I rather think it looks.. disgusting." As she says it, she peaks into the nearest vat of meat, wrinkling her nose, and her stomach growls in protest. « Ahh, swallow. » Zhoroth responds watching the motion and mimicing it, sharing the sensation of the meat sliding down his throat, the maracas 'shh'ing rapidly in his excitement and enjoyment of this new activity that is so fulfilling. « More, please, X'den. I still have hunger. » He shares that feeling too, and why not? Its not as though these basic things need be kept a secret. But-- then-- there's this other odd sensation. That is not shared. Instead, the blue begins shifting uncomfortably, hide twitching here and there. Keseth relaxed under the influence of a full belly and oiled hide. In fact, he relaxed so well that he fell asleep, curled up next to Jendel. "Y'sure?" Paige blinks, giving the tiny green a surprised look. "Alrigh', we'll try." And with an anxious glance back for the eating hatchling, she ducks around people and small dragons alike, returning with oil and a small paddle to spread it with. Uncertainly, the slim girl carefully slathers a bit onto Tiasheth's neck, using her other hand to rub the oil into the verdant hide. "Like - like this?" "Vats just there, bucket /here/," P'draig answers A'riste, handing over a bucket of same. "Make sure to get into all the folds, like when you helped with Jekzith. Then P'draig is heading up towards the 'head' of the room a little and he clears his throat for attention, Jekzith repeating the call gently to the dragonets. « P'draig needs to talk to everyone. » And the Weyrlingmaster claps his hands to boot. "All right everyone, I know that you're all a little overwhelmed right now, but I need to let you know a few things. First of all, once your dragons are fed and oiled and /asleep/ you're welcome to change and join the Hatching Feast in the living cavern. You may also stay here, there's food being brought." He pauses and looks around at the group. "For today, all you have to worry about is them and maybe getting a little shut-eye. If you do go to the feast, one glass of wine or ale /only/ please and no hard liquor. At all times for the next little while, stick close to your dragons, they'll tire easily. There's other rules we'll need to talk about, but those're the only ones that'll probably stick right now. So. As you were." D'kai pulls back with a snort as he's sprayed and splashed by little bloody droplets, splattering his preciously-sewn white robe with crimson beads, though seeing as it's /Mikhuth's/ fault, it's okay. Really. He takes the break in mind voice babble to lean back and breathe, and absorb all of the bronze's hard, rangy form. "Hey-" but he's quick to sit up at Micky's swift inhalation of meat, "Really. Chew. You'll choke otherwise." And we can't have that, not so soon, can we? X'den looks around to see if anyone else is 'enjoying' the sensation. "You really....ug...I wonder if they would cook this for you. Now /that/ is good." He dangles another bit of meat for his lifemate, "I guess there is enough for you to have...until you're full." He watches the shifting, frowning. "What's wrong?" His eyes lift at the clapping and he pauses in his 'chores'. « Exactly, » agrees Tiasheth, with a pleased hum to her words. Helpfully, she even leans into the little hands that rub along her neck, wings bobbing encouragingly while she dips her head to take another little bite of meat. « That's wonderful--it feels so much better. Thank you. » Valioth gives Mikhuth another brief look, no head-bob from him and then he's tracking the Weyrlingmaster, feet shifting back and forth beneath himself. « What's he mean you can leave when I'm asleep, boss? Maybe I don't like that idea so much. » T'aren nods towards the vat of oil he was lugging, "Over here, Berit," Having overheard the human end of the conversation. "Take a bit of this and rub it into her hide. It'll sooth the itches." Zerith isn't ready to sleep. She looks at the other dragons and people and puts her muzzle in Nerine's lap. « So who are all these dragons? Why are they in here with us? » She halts her commentary when P'draig speaks, giving Nerine a chance to explain a few things. "These are our clutchmates, Zerith. P'draig will teach us all about being riders, and we'll all work together when you're grown." A'riste moves to slather oil, too, onto Valioth's itchy places, strangely feeling where they are in his own self as much as he sees the roughness in his bronze's changeable hide. "I'll eat here," he assures him. "If someone can get my gitar and my things. We don't need to lack for entertainment just because we're here, and those whom I wish to see are all here anyway." P'draig pauses by Nerine, a discarded oiling rag held in one hand. "How're you and your green doing? I'm sorry, I missed her name," he says quietly. Paige's uncertain look turns into a relieved smile, both at knowing that she's doing it correctly, and to mirror her dragon's relief. "Yeah, I - I can tell, " she breathes, clearly amazed by how feelings transfer so easily between the two. And so she continues her ministrations with cautious wonder, easing oil into Tiasheth's back and shoulders, making sure that the creases of hide between joint and sides are well-filled. "Y'sure y'dun need help t'get more food down when I'm done with the oil?" Unfortunately, the warning is a second too late for Mikhuth. Even as D'kai says it, the headstrong bronze is coughing and wheezing as he half-chokes on a piece of too-big meat. « Ack, D'kai. Get it out, get it out! » he calls, finally hacking it back up himself. This time, the chunk earns a swat that sends it skittering across the floor, and him pouncing on it like a dog with a toy as he rips into it again. This time, it's blood and spit that go everywhere. « You see that, man? » he asks, with a cocky, smug look back at D'kai for his resounding victory. Nerine looks up and says, "Her name is Zerith. She's wonderful, isn't she?" The green dragonet looks up at P'draig, then puts her head back in Nerine's lap. Nerine hastens to apologize for her. "She doesn't mean to be rude, sir. She's just a little tired now." Berit has disconnected. "No problem, Nerine," P'draig says with a chuckle. "Zerith. Nice. Keep up what you're doing and if you get tired, just curl up on a cot, wallow for her." And the Weyrlingmaster moves on, comes to a halt in front of D'kai and Mikhuth. "Food goes down into bellies," he notes calmly. "D'kai, you'll need to clean up after him." « But dis is already good. » Zhoroth points out to his lifemate, seeming perplexed at why X'den would seek to improve that which is already sufficient. Perhaps that is something he'll come to understand in time. « Nothing is wrong. » The conveyance of the lie is seamless, but the continued movements from here to there to there, twitching and itching indicate otherwise. Finally, « Ok, perhaps der is something a bit wrong. I am-- *this* all over. » And the feeling of being itchy introduced into the mindtouch. Tiasheth considers this for a moment, then agrees with an adoring, « I would like that. It shouldn't take too long -- there isn't much to oil! » Bemused, she continues to lean into the hand that oils her, a gentle touch lest she knock Paige over instead. Valioth's still eyeballing his surroundings as if he's figuring out where all the exits are and sizing up his fellow clutchsibs though his eyes have shaded to blue green contentment from the oiling. « Feels good, boss. Keep it up, yeah? And sing in a little bit. I want to hear that. » D'kai hovers, anxiously, uncertainly, unsure if he should just grab and pry open Mikhuth's jaws and reach for the offending hunk of meat himself, until there it goes! trip-skid across the flagstone, and after it, Mikhuth in a great bound. Deke fends off the resulting spray with a gurgling laugh and a wave of his hands, "Saw it, Micky, way to go!" What a cunning, fast bronze! "You got that meat good, but you'll chew next time, yeah? Can chase the meat lat-" And, breaking off with a glance upward to P'draig as the man strolls by, D'kai grins, a titch sheepishly, "Or, ah, something less messy. Will do, sir, no worries." A little wagon-train of Weyr-staff come in while the Weyrlings are busy feeding and oiling and start dropping off trunks and bags from the Candidate Barracks. P'draig gives D'kai a brief, meaningful look. "See that you do. Blood on the ground is a slipping hazard. There's a mop and bucket over there." Pointing he also catches sight of the arrival of the Weyrlings' gear. "Your stuff is here, Weyrlings! Pick out a cot and couch for yourselves and when you're ready you can move in here. You've permission to go get anything that may've gotten left behind when you're through here though." X'den's eyebrow arches at his lifemate's lie. His shoulders jerk up and he lets out a sharp grunt at the sensation of the itches and his eyes widen, "you don't have to hide that stuff from /me/." He sounds a little hurt and rubs his hands over the hatchlings muzzle and head, "I'll get the stop-itch stuff." With a smirk he does just that. "What do we do when they are hungry /and/ itchy?" He asks as he gets to work soothing the icky parts. "And...when can we give them a bath? This egg-schmutz can't be good-feeling." "Naw, not too much t'oil, " agrees Paige with an equally adoring beam. Aww. "At least fer now, " she adds with a small grin. "Ya'll grow big and strong one o'these days. Much bigger'n me." And truly, it doesn't take her long to finish covering most of the tiny dragonet in the soothing substance. Scooting around slightly, she uses the bloody hand to scoop up more meat to offer, the oily hand rubbing lovingly atop Tiasheth's head. X'den's question makes it over to P'draig's ear and that's his next stop. "Set a bucket down in front of one end while you work on the other?" he suggests with a hint of mirth on his face. "As for baths, it's a long walk across the Bowl and through the Inner Caverns to the springs. There's buckets of water in here for now, X'den if you want to sponge him down. Jekzith'll also flame out a bit of the lake until it thaws so you can fill up buckets if they're too tired to head over to the springs, or after they've gotten too big to walk through." Nerine has disconnected. « Ended up 'ere, » Mikhuth points out, with a bark of laughter for the sport. Incorrigible, he trots back to D'kai's side, bumping a shoulder against the meat bucket to make it rattle, but luckily not tipping /that/ over. « Spoilsport. Didn't want no more anyways, » is his opinion of P'draig. « C'mon, oil me up. Oughta be good. » Obligingly, Tiasheth nibbles the next few pieces from Paige's hands, but it only takes a little bit before she's slowing down and stopping. She tries to hide her big yawn by sliding her face under one translucent wing, offering, « Excuse me, » afterward. And with a thoughtful look toward the people bringing the weyrlings' things in. « Perhaps we should go find our belongings, and rest, » suggests the green. "I was really worried," A'riste says quietly to Valioth, "That singing might be over. Or that whoever looked to me didn't care for music." He oils, and oils, until there are no more itchy spots left. "...How can you speak in complete sentences if you were just born?" X'den scrubs a bit on a bit of the itchy part and sighs in as much pleasure as though he were having a scratch itched on himself. "Right. Bucket-baths for a bit. I think he'd fall asleep before we get there." Indeed his lifemate is heavy-eyed as the oiling relaxes him. "Ok sleepy, lets get you on a couch before you sleep." With that he leads the heavy-legged young blue to a good couch, after a few rejected choices. "I can't wait to see him try swimming." "Probably a good idea," P'draig replies with a grin for X'den and nods as the pair head off to find a couch. The Weyrlingmaster wipes his own hands down on a rag and does another round of checking in, this time pausing by Paige. "Everything going okay, here? Got any questions Paige?" "Did, didn't it?" D'kai replies, a bit facetious, while letting a hand rest on that clattering bucket as it jiggles to a slow - he's enough to clean up, already, thank you, Mikhuth. An echo of the bronze's opinion in D'kai reveals itself in a little poked-out tongue at the Weyrlingmaster's turn back, though surely that's just in concentration as he sets to oiling up his lovely fellow? "All right, let's try this," And in goes the hand, out it comes with a glistening coating, and the slick oil is smeeeeaaaared, carefully and tenderly, starting with Mickey's flanks but soon moving on to neck and working slowly up to his brighter-hued head. "How's that, then?" « Worried. Hmm. Nah, you don't have to worry with /me/ around, boss. » Valioth's chest puffs up a little and he looks back along his own body, seemingly pleased with the gleaming coat of oil to be found there. « Hey, not half bad. Not half bad. So. Singing's not over. Let's hear it. » Demanding. And Valioth struts away, noses at a couch, sniffs, walks on to the next and shakes his head. Ultimately he chooses one towards the back. Where he can see the door. And everyone else. There he curls up and looks at A'riste with laser beams for eyes. Waiting. « I can just talk. Don't know why. Maybe I learned before I came out of that egg. You tell me, boss. How does a dragon learn to talk? » Paige giggles a little, rubbing the last of the oil off of her hand into Tiasheth's chin, trying to wipe off a reminder of the dragon's meal with the other. "You're excused, dearest Tiasheth. Tia. Can I call ya tha'?" Pushing herself to her feet, the former candidate follows her dragon's look over toward the people bringing their things in. "O'course, " she agrees. "Restin' would be - would be good for ya. I'll go get clean and get somethin' t'eat fer me, too." And then there's P'draig, and she beams at him, despite being covered in oil, blood and vomit. "She's so smart, " is the first thing she blurts out, happy. "I - s'it alrigh' if'n /we/ go t'the springs t'get cleaned up fer the feast? Sir?" "Smart? Heh, good. Seems like you to are getting along pretty well," P'draig replies, looking over Tiasheth, eyes on that coating of oil. His gaze shifts back to Paige though and he nods. "Absolutely. If she's asleep and not likely to miss you for a while, please do. Wouldn't be much fun to go smelling like the insides of a Barracks, would it?" He winks at the girl and bends down to swipe at a bit of trailing oil on the floor. "Just watch your step. Gets slippery in here after a Hatching." "What, right now? I can't sing and answer- I don't know." A'riste looks over to P'draig, even as he trails after the wary Valioth, and then sits on the edge of the couch. "Sir? How do dragons learn how to talk from the moment they're born?" « Good, s'good, » answers Mikhuth, fair twitching with excitement the more oil is smeared on him. He pushes back against the hand roughly, but just as quickly is shaking his tail, his wings, each of his limbs in turn, as though limbering up for another go at that bucket. « Shake it off. Time to get a move on -- c'mon already, rush it up. » He eyes the door to the bowl, ready to rove. X'den looks pleased once he's got his lifemate tucked in and his world seems to 'still' enough that he can look around and see what the others are doing and actually pay attention. Looking down at himself he sighs heavily. "I'm afraid my clothing will never be the same." Disapointment rings in his voice as he goes about looking his things over, coveting his lovely blue cloak before putting it away in a safe, clean place in his press. « Tia, » Tiasheth repeats. « You may, of course. You can call me whatever you like. Here, let me settle in. » She's rising fluidly to her feet and gliding over toward the cots and couches, pausing there to wait for Paige. « And then you can go wash up. You do need it, dear -- you'll want to look your best. » Paige shakes her head quickly. "Not at all, " she agrees. "Can' go a'dancin' lookin' like - " and she gestures down at herself sheepishly. There's a nod and a grateful look for the warning as she carefully steps around smears on the floor, following Tiasheth over to the rows of cots and couches. Fetching her belongings, of which there are few, she hastens back to her tiny green, all smiles again. "Yeah. I - I do." But if there's any reason for it other than looking nice for a nice event, she doesn't include it, tipping her head instead toward one of the smaller couches. "Maybe one o'those?" she suggests. "Which'un d'ya like?" « Mm. I like this one, » agrees Tiasheth, stepping over to the one Paige points out. « It will do nicely. » And she hops up into it carefully, turning about a time or two before she lays down. It takes only a few seconds after that before her eyes are flickering shut, and she's relaxing into sleep. With a nudge of his own, D'kai pushes back, bidding the bronze to at least stay still long enough for him to finish head to tail, and keeps a hold on a jostling foreleg to finish spreading the oil along tender feet - though obviously not tender enough to be affected by the heat of the Hatching sands. "Shake off the- you're-" Deke faux-grimaces with a laugh as he's bespattered by excess oil flung off by the motion. He spreads a last daub across Mikhuth's chest, he notes the gaze outward, and puffs out a little, almost proudly. "Not tired, are you, then? What're you thinking?" If anything. X'den has disconnected. Paige's gaze is one of utter adoration as she watches Tiasheth settle down and relax into sleep and slowly, she moves her belongings into the press at the foot of her newly claimed cot, leaving a carefully wrapped bundle for the last. This, she plucks from her cot and with another look back at her little dragon, ducks out of the barracks to hasten for the springs. |
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