Difference between revisions of "Logs:Grand Theft Sand: High Reaches Weyr"

Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr

Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.

It's snowy, it's windy, and all too soon it's dark at High Reaches Weyr, sun disappearing behind the surrounding peaks. On top of it all, for any dragons nearby, it's noisy. Outrage thunders on across Hraedhyth's blazing plains, flames too easily freed from her hearth. « THIEF. YOU DARE. » The roar is echoed physically as she looms right at the ground entrance into the galleries. The bellowing does not cease, and whether it is joined by the clutchparents isn't readily apparent. Those who wish to investigate will find Azaylia, holding a mug and waiving her skirts at a young teen. The junior is shooing the girl away from the galleries, as well as out from where Hraedhyth's pinned her against the wall. The teen looks terrified, tears streaming down her face as she rushes through the terrible weather, back to the main caverns. Hraedhyth watches, jerky jolts of her muscles threatening to continue the chase, eyes whirling rapidly red.

It's enough to pull Iesaryth out of the warmth of her weyr to her ledge, all the DRAMA and bellowing and general Hraedhythness. The sound of the ocean is ever-present, tide rushing out to dim the fires that blaze out of control. What is the problem? What has such a tiny person done? And does the other gold not see her rider shooing the girl away? Iesaryth's rider is coming from the main caverns, so is fortunate enough to catch the hysterics as the girl rushes by... but in this weather, she's not about to stop her. Maybe not even in better weather. "What's going on?" Brieli calls out to Azaylia, giving the angry gold a sidelong glance.

Iesaryth and her tides are always welcome, while not always effective. Doesn't she see? Doesn't Sister understand how important this is? Ysavaeth's lost clutch may be forgotten by the brawny queen, but the lesson of how fragile eggs are lingers still. Azaylia smooths the skirts of her dress with the hand she had been using to hold them, turning a concerned eye to her lifemate. "Hraedhyth-" The queen will not be soothed, not until what has been taken is returned. The junior lifts fingers to her temple, wincing at the beat of Hraedhyth's overly loud drums. With a glance toward Brieli and a subtle motion, she turns to walk further into the galleries. The dragons on the sands are likely upset by the young queen and perhaps by what has occured. Azaylia looks over her shoulder to see if her friend has followed, the young woman crouching and emptying the mug of golden, (stolen) sand.

Iesaryth can't immediately see the issue, no - unless the girl can carry away an egg, or is creeping near them without permission. And does Hraedhyth not trust Rielsath and Svissath to protect their clutch? Any thoughts of lost clutches drift away on sea winds. Her rider looks at the gold askance - really, must you? - before she follows Azaylia in quickly, out of the sleet and wet. Why wouldn't she, given the weather. Watching the other junior empty the sand out as she shakes off her coat, she's totally bemused. "What happened? Or maybe, why?"

Azaylia is upset, but the faint frown on her lips and the jutting lip are nothing compared to her lifemate's display. "Oh... I don't know." Quiet voice is heavy with annoyance, or perhaps the lingering headache courtesy of a certain queen. "Maybe it was a prank, a dare?" The why isn't important. "I couldn't see if she was a candidate or not- but she snuck in while we were asleep." We, meaning Rielsath, Svissath, and the goldrider herself. Hraedhyth flares at her sister wetly, sooty black and sulking now that her flames are somewhat under control. Clearly she needs to be here, when the two are sleeping. She just caught a sinister and sickminded sand thief!

Sand thief. Yes, Iesaryth can see how that's something to get herself all riled up about, though the cadence of the ocean doesn't change, sun sparkling on the waves. « It is done, Hraedhyth. Guard if you must, but calm yourself; she's gone. » Terrified, even! Looking back outside with a wrinkle of her nose, Brieli says, "I couldn't see anything when she ran by, between the sleet and her crying... If she is a candidate, I don't know if she'll want to come back anytime soon." That brings a wry smile to her lips. "Might be counter-productive. You sleep in here?" She arches brows at Azaylia curiously, though she's really no one to judge about what goes on in the galleries.

« She is lucky. » Is what she is, as far as Hraedhyth is concerned. Over time, her drums will lower in volume as her inner flame simply simmers. Azaylia makes sure to run a finger along the inside of the mug to dislodge any stuck sand. Satisfied, she stands and gives a tired little exhale, "Just because it's a small clutch..." Said gently, and with her back faintly turned to both gold and brown on the sands, she is still unable to finish the thought out loud. "I... dozed off. It's warm and cozy." She explains, somewhat embarrassed. She walks up a few steps to reveal a little work station in the stands. A candle flickers next to a stack of hides, light blanket crumpled atop a cushion where it was likely thrown off at Hraedhyth's explosion.

Iesaryth will accept that as victory, though she's not budging from her ledge for the time being, not with Hraedhyth still angry, though muted. Once the worst of the wet is shaken off her coat, Brieli tosses it over one seat and takes another, looking at Azaylia concernedly when she sighs so tiredly. "Yes, well. I think that's a general concern, she needn't worry with everyone else on the job," Bri notes, kicking up wet boots on the seat ahead of her. Her attention shifting to the workstation, pursing her lips, "It's warm enough, yes - but I can't see this being good light. Are you all right?" A glance flickers to the entrance again, towards Hraedhyth.

Ever vigilant, Hraedhyth will continue to guard the clutch, the clutchparents, as well as the two goldriders within. The awful weather is no match for the queen's will, simply tucking her wings in close and resting her head between her paws. "I-" Fingers splay in front of Azaylia's wide mouth as she's caught in a yawn, "-know it's kind of odd, having her worry so much. But after what happened last time..." She can't blame the poor creature. Then again, when does she ever? Through yawn-watery eyes, she peeks over at her friend and gives a smile that's only slightly strained. "Just tired. I think it might be the weather." Or the junior pushing her limits when it comes to her duties, though that's nothing terribly new. She sits, slumping some with another airy little exhale, "How're you?"

Though she gives full credit to her sister gold for bearing up under the weather, Iesaryth is not going to watch her brave the elements all day; eventually she shifts herself up and makes her way in, though the ocean lingers on Hraedhyth's charred shores. Her rider has a flicker of... something for 'last time', concerned where her lifemate isn't. "Well, when it all goes well, she'll know she doesn't need to worry anymore," Brieli says lightly, confidently. "And the weather." She gives Azaylia a skeptical look before, "Try to hand off some more work? The headwoman has some assistant boy now, make him do it." With a wave at whatever 'it' is, she shrugs. "Well enough. Not bored. I hear you're doing well with your wing."

The tide slips out under the cover of wet, dark smoke of the variety that might come from saltwater dousing flame. No less bubbly than usual, but /bemused/, Iesaryth wonders if Vhaeryth might see the problem with 'stealing' sand - the gold can't really figure out how one can own such a thing. But still, there is an image of Hraedhyth, stubborn thing, hunkered down in the cold and snow-slash-rain outside the hatching caverns. As if there's not dragons /inside/ on the Sands themselves. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

Hraedhyth will eventually give herself to the calming tide, alert eyes whirling slowly as she lets her black smoke play within Iesaryth's sea breeze. Azaylia gives a soft laugh, "It kind of worries me for when she's... you know." Dare anyone to try and steal sand then. "I will be relieved when there are baby dragons instead of eggs. I'm sure I'kris feels the same. Poor thing. It's almost like he's a goldrider with how he seems stuck." And here she is, working in the warmth by choice. "Oh... I don't know. He's the headwoman's assistant, not mine." She seems skeptical, or perhaps subconsciously reluctant at the opportunity to lighten her work load. "Oh, yes!" Talk of her wing brings a little life back into her eyes, "We're enjoying ourselves. Even if it's hard work sometimes, having sweeps and weyrwoman duties."

"Mm. I know. I was asked what I thought Iesaryth would be like, if she'd be broody, but it's so hard to tell with her. Sometime she doesn't care, and sometimes she does, too much so. I imagine we'll find out sooner or later." By Brieli's tone, wry and rueful, she's thinking it's sooner than later. "And I'kris? I don't know. He seems like he's doing all right, just feeling a bit out of place. It's not as if they expect him to do much in the wing, I'd think, given it's temporary. But yes, I suppose it'd be nice." Given she's got fewer issues, she doesn't seem too concerned with the timing of the hatching. "And isn't that just the reason to get help? You duties are different, it stands to reason that you might need a hand."

Azaylia leans back, stretching her own boots out onto the tier in front of them, mindful of her paperwork. "Iesaryth will make the cutest little babies..." Given that she isn't trying to predict the sunny gold, the junior is also stumped by what the future might hold. "It doesn't seem like his dragon likes to leave the sands. It's sweet, but..." Can't be much fun for I'kris. She still isn't sold on the idea of using an assistant for work that she has been able to do before. Who needs sleep? "Mmm... maybe." She gently chews her lip, "I'll think about it. I mean, with four weyrwomen, there isn't so much to do." Except what Iolene might forget, or overlook for all that she's seemed to improve in her role as Weyrwoman. Or, that could just be Azaylia's optimism.

/They/ have clear skies, skies clear as a bell, though why the humans say that when most bells are usually anything but see-through... is a question Vhaeryth passes right back to Iesaryth. But this is not just sand, this is mud. Yes. « Why does she not find a beach of her own? » Why? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

With an arched brow for her friend, skeptical of cute little babies, "How can you tell? And I'm sure Hraedhyth... will as well." Brieli has a marked lack of enthusiasm for eggs or dragon babies at the moment, but it's possible that she's just heard enough over the weeks of the clutch. Shrugging, still unconcerned with the travails of brownriders, "It does seem that way, though he'd just be cold anywhere else. Other than the greenhouse, I told him about that." That's her preferred haunt, when not lurking in the gallery shadows. "And if there's not so much to do, just stop being the one to do it all. You're allowed to take breaks. In fact, I'll have Io make you. She can order that sort of thing, you know."

There's a surge of longing for clear skies anywhere, though she would happily take Vhaeryth's if given the option, but apparently she doesn't have that tonight. Not right now, anyway. As for bells, the reference causea a silver fish to jump from the waves before, « I think they mean the sounds. But sound is not sight. » People are so stupid sometimes. « She watches lest anyone steal sand from the grounds. » A beach sounds better, especially to Iesaryth. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

"Because Iesaryth is so beautiful." Azaylia answers, without hesitation. It might make Brieli's more obvious, which has lips playfully thinning and a look tossed at the other goldrider. Hraedhyth will make... perfectly viable babies. Ahem. It doesn't last, her smile dimmed only slightly by her half-lidded gaze. "True. I can't imagine getting used to 'Reaches winters after living in Monaco." It takes time, even for someone from Keroon! With an even longer, slightly more dramatic sigh, "Okaaaay. It's just- this weather is work weather." Says the junior who can teleport anywhere on Pern. Even she realizes how weak her excuse is, glancing off to the side sheepishly.

Bells resound in the distance now, of course: huge copper bells, tiny silvery bells (one with a curling ribbon attached), and a few bells as glassy-clear as water. There are, pointedly, no sandy bells. « So she does not steal it herself. » It's obvious, but the young bronze asks /just/ in case. « Cannot she watch from inside where it's warm? » Also, dry? Would that not make more sense? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

"In so far as they're really beautiful. And you can't tell how they'll turn out. It's like children. Gorgeous people can have perfectly hideous children." Brieli has a point, if a harsh one. Leaning back to look up at the darkened cavern ceiling as she unwinds her scarf, she misses Azaylia's look entirely, but notes, "I'd bet at least one of them is sort of unattractive." The eggs, she means. "Monaco is fairly nice," she admits. "There's another one from there, now. A Baker. It's starting to make me wonder." She doesn't specify what, but the suspicion on her features is likely enough. "We should go there sometime. Or anywhere. You can even bring your work."

More pleasant - or perhaps a nice /change/ from - war drums. The ocean shifts, changes its cadence to fall in rhythm with the ringing of bells. « No. » Iesaryth is certain of that, but there are some things about her sister that she no longer tries to understand; her need to sit out in the elements amongst them. She pictures the ledge just inside the cavern that they perched on nights ago, the view from there - certainly good for sand-watching. (Not eggs, for some reason.) (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

This exhale is a different one, tolerant but only just barely as Brieli continues to argue. Rather than throw herself into a battle against pessimism (or, reality), Azaylia lets it go. "Oh? Maybe there's something wrong with Monaco after all?" Said with no insult in mind, simply wondering out loud. "Make you wonder..?" Catching sight of that suspicion only has her head tilting to the side in silent, but obvious confusion. "That'd be nice. I'm sure the weather is also making Hraedhyth a bit cranky." Though the dragon seems unaffected by it now.

If Azaylia is getting to 'tolerant', Brieli will likewise leave it alone. As she unwinds her scarf, "I didn't like what the humidity did to my hair, but I doubt that's a concern for everyone. I just wonder why more people, if..." She glances around the galleries to see if anyone's nearby before quietly, "If they've been sent? Monaco generally has a particular interest in Reaches' business. I mean, it's just odd, first the flight, then others come along..." She might be paranoid - when isn't she - but she might actually have a point. Out of nowhere, "She ought to watch from the ledges, while they're asleep. It's warmer. And let me know when you want to go. You're the one with the heavy workload, apparently." She flashes a grin.

If only they were war bells... no? Something of that suggestion enters their cadence for a moment, then departs with far more speed, the tiny silver bells chiming like laughter. But he's also noticing what she's not looking at, and his voice carries nothing like bells at all: « Is it that you would rather look at the sand, Iesaryth... or have you had your fill of eggs? » Eggs? Tedious? Could it be? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

There's a distant shake of war drums, an echo of her own... only, no. Bells. (Vhaeryth to Hraedhyth)

Azaylia gives a knowing smile, "I'm sure your hair was as lovely as always." Even in Monaco. She blinks and takes a moment to look around as well, if only because Brieli has. "It... hm." Before the flight, she might have brushed it off as a coincidence. Now? "It is kind of strange. Like, funny?" But her light tone goes to show that the junior doesn't think any of it at all sinister. "New people are always interesting." Pushing forward, she gives her arms a stretch and ends up straightening up her pile of hides, just because. "I don't think I'll be able to convince her of that tonight." Not with sand thieves about!

The sound travels across charred lands, recently scorched by Hraedhyth's fury. Her drums are steady, fire only simmering in the aftermath and once again restrained to her heart's hearth. The foreign chimes make her tense, thumping increasing to possibly drown out the bells. (Hraedhyth to Vhaeryth)

If there were a way to ring a war-bell, certainly the brawnier gold might find it. Light dances on the waves as the smoke begins to clear, and Iesaryth considers. She just doesn't see what is worth getting that wound up about. « It is not her clutch, nor her sand to worry over, so why? » And now that she's seen the eggs sitting there, uninteresting, they do lose some of their allure. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

"But, wouldn't she see anyone trying to steal sand from the ledges?" Brieli is trying to be helpful, but it'd likely be better to leave such things to Iesaryth. Even so, "My hair was not lovely. But thank you for saying so." Tilting her head, "Funny? Suspicious. Though I don't know why to send a Baker... other than the best gossip is usually in the kitchens..." The goldrider can make up conspiracies out of thin air. "New people can be interesting. I just don't doubt someone's doing something to try to get... an edge." With a purse of her lips, "If more riders from there show up, then something is definitely going on." There's a pause. "Sorry." Then, "Maybe you should take some time to visit your family, instead of just going to the beach or something of the like."

So they drown out the bells. Look at that! So easy! Maybe she imagined the whole thing. (Maybe.) (Vhaeryth to Hraedhyth)

Certainly Vhaeryth can see that, both the lack of need to worry and the lessened allure: been there, seen that. « Someday, she will get tired. » And until then, perhaps Iesaryth can fly rings around her. Or just do what /Iesaryth/ wants to do, whatever that i... « What would /you/ like? » (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

« Perhaps. » Iesaryth wouldn't count on it, though; exhaustion versus obstinance is a tough call. And what would she like? Clear weather to start, so she could choose to look at the skies above if she chose to stay. She would go to where there's not only clear skies, but warmth and sand along with bright ocean stretching forever, if she could. And if there were dragons to fly circles about, she might, lazily. « What would you like, Vhaeryth? » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

Azaylia gives a shrug, one corner of her lips lifting higher than the other in some amusement for her dragon's oddities. "Oh, what could they possibly do?" She teases lightly, carefully, given Brieli's moment of paranoia. "Think that they're coming over to make half-Monaco babies and outnumber us 'Reachians?" Nevermind that she's from Keroon and Brieli, Crom. The idea still has her giggling, giving a shake of her head when her friend apologizes. "I was thinking I might." Visit her family, that is. "But, I get it. I'll take a break very soon." Despite the resistance, she's grateful for the other goldrider's concern.

To Vhaeryth, Hraedhyth growls low, a rumble of annoyance that has her burnt plains trembling. Vigilance is high, patience the exact opposite. Still, the queen will slowly but surely settle back into her semi-alert state. Guarded and guarding.

Wrinkling her nose, Brieli points out, "That's what they're likely counting on people asking. What can they possibly do? A lot of things. It depends on the timing." She has a grimace for 'babies' as well, noting, "I doubt that's the plan, but I'kris is weird about that, you know. When I said I didn't want children, he went on about how dragonriding might run in the blood, and on and on. They believe that sort of thing, I think." Azaylia's giggling at possible threats has her looking a bit put out, but the agreement has that fading. "No one can fault you for a family visit."

"...Interesting." Azaylia notes with a gentle drawl for I'kris' beliefs, though it doesn't seem that she's disregarding them right off the bat. "I don't know that anyone else in my family has- Oh. I think maybe my great grandpa? But he, uhm, doesn't get talked about much." Simply impregnating a hold girl and flying off tends to leave a stain on a person's reputation. Wait, "You don't want bab- Oh but Brieli..!" Whiiine! "You and N'rov would make the cutest curly-haired darlings." How could she snatch that possibility away from Azaylia? Cruel! With a little tsk, she waves a hand, "You might change your mind." There's hope.

Clear skies, those are easily had if one flies high enough (and ignores that brief rumble in the background, nothing to do with him or her at all), but warmth and sand and ocean? Those Vhaeryth might sign onto also, amiably, but in his head... all those imaginary dragons, or snowflakes or sand-bits or whatever they are, stop being slow and instead fly with. Much more entertaining. Though (it's possible) perhaps she sees something he doesn't? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

Definitively, "I know no one in my family has been a dragonrider, unless it's a long way back. We're... not riders, really." Brieli's given about as much information about her family as she ever has... and it's still not very much. "Any--" She's about to continue with her paranoid theories, but Azaylia's sudden shift in topic has her both stunned and horribly embarrassed. "Azaylia, please." She's never thrilled about discussing her relationship, and this apparently goes over the line. "We-- I-- It's awfully early to talk about." A turn or so is too soon? Pained, "I don't imagine your potential children, give me a break."

Azaylia is interested in anything Brieli has to say about her family, "No?" She also knows how her friend is, and leaves her question to be answered or ignored. Hands find her skirts, gripping and bunching up the edges in her lap as she leans over to coo, "Brieli. N'rov. Reili. Brev... No, B'rev will probably be the dragonrider, you need to give him a decently long name before his Impression." With such a wide smile, it's painfully obvious that she's only teasing now. It doesn't last much longer, not one to make someone uncomfortable for too long. "Aw, why not? Don't you want to be Auntie Bri?" Asks wannabe-auntie Azaylia.

It's nicer to fly that high and see everything far below, watch as she glides. Above the clouds only leaves a fluffy wet blanket below, not as interesting. Iesaryth would prefer to glade over the water, see what swims beneath the waves, lit by the moons. And she can agree that flying with is better, for all she still might choose to glide and watch - but then there's the option to chase and dart over and above. If her companions themselves were entertaining enough, she would make the effort. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

"As far as I'm aware, but it's not as if I can really ask." Brieli is still wincing, especially when Azaylia goes on to start coming up with names - she buries her face in her hands briefly, as if she can hide her embarrassment. When she can look up again, "What about you and that big guy with the fur coat? What's his name? You two seemed awfully friendly at Taikrin's class, and I know she's not interested." Shaking it off, trying to regain some of her usual cool, "I'd be more than happy to be Auntie Bri. I just don't want to go making you Auntie Azaylia any time soon." A pause, then curiously, "Will you have children?" It's not something she's actually thought much about.

Certain agreement, for the not as interesting. The only thing about swimming above the waves is... along those waves? It's not just them that's visible, it's a smooth golden underbelly that threatens to block the view, details made blurry for Vhaeryth's lack of examining that feature in particular. Does she mind? Would she like looking at herself, would /that/ be interesting? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

Azaylia eases off well before Brieli's face reaches her hands, stifling her giggles and feeling a little bad. She feels even worse when the other junior recovers, though it's what she says that has her sputtering. "He..! I..!" Huff. "His name... He says his names is Bones." Flustered, though not in the manner one would expect, she talks over her slightly more pronounced lower lip. "He... is new." She's said that before. "And, I'm always friendly." Discomfort thoroughly shared between them, the junior gives a straight answer, "Uh hum. Lots. At least... four's a good number?" With a weak smile as she tries to recover, "I just haven't... I don't know. It doesn't seem like the right time. Or the right guy." Guys? Who knows.

The water moves, might reflect the sunny hide blurrily anyway. And though her vanity is not quite the same as her rider's, Iesaryth is /of course/ interested in looking at herself from another perspective. Shan's is always appreciated, but that's /different/. Would he like that, a molten reflection on bright waves, brighter than his shadow? (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

Vhaeryth might, Vhaeryth /has/, Vhaeryth shows her again: something fun that can be done with one's reflection, the flight higher, higher, making it smaller, smaller... and then suddenly, plunging down, it's /huge/. And splashed into. And up again, glittering moonlight all through it in his wake. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

Giving a smirk, "That's not a name. That's an alias." Because Brieli knows so much about these things? "What is he doing here? And you're too friendly, it's a good think Taikrin is teaching you. Though I told her I'd make time for her next class." Since when are her wingmate and the goldrider all friendly? Moving on, she flashes Azaylia a smile that borders on apologetic before, "Four seems like a lot to me, but as has been pointed out, the Weyr will help raise them. And see? It's too soon." Never mind about the right guy, or guys, or whether either of them have that lined up. A pause, before, "Will you miss the wing, when..." She nods her dark head towards the sands. "It'll be different, for you."

And all the fish that might be swimming beneath mirror-Vhaeryth go scattering, quick little tails propelling them /away/. Not so fast they can't be eaten. The moonlight glitters that much more for the thought of diving, flying again, trailing the salt and scents that only exist in her mind in her home. Iesaryth would /like/ that, especially with the steady snow-rain falling outside. She might push her rider a little to make that happen. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

Azaylia gives a light hum in her throat which loosely translates to: I know. As if Azaylia was going to demand his real name, or anything from the big and loud brute? "I don't know. Uhm... Said he was looking for work?" Or something. Eager to move on to another topic, "Oh, good. She can make you throw her next. I didn't like that part." Mental images, ahoy! "Four to start." She corrects, though she could be making another joke. Lack of sleep makes everything funnier. "I'll agree that it's too soon." As always, the two juniors come to stand on sort of middleground. Her gaze is drawn to the sands, giving another hum that's far more thoughtful. "Probably. I'm more worried about Hraedhyth. But it's only a few sevens." A glance and a smile for Brieli, "Weyrwomen have been doing it for ages. I'll be fine." Lips part to say something else, cut off by an audible, wet churn from her stomach. "...ah. Want to get something to eat?" Already gathering up her work, blowing out the candle and such.

"That's comforting." Brieli's tone is distinctly not comforted. "Someone should look into that." By her expression, that someone might be her - or whatever person she manages to delegate that task to. "Just to know what we're dealing with? And Azaylia, you need to learn to throw people. I'm... I don't really need the help in the same way." She's serious enough about that, though she doesn't elaborate, just agreeing, "It's a little while off before we worry about offspring of any kind. And..." Her lips twitch, but she doesn't smile at the other junior's stomach. "All right. I'll go back out in that, though I can't stay long. Iesaryth is being insistent about water... Anyway. She wants to go." Picking up her still-wet jacket and slinging her scarf on, she readies herself to follow her friend out into the cold.

Well. If they could be /eaten/. Down goes the jaw, /scoop/! A mouthful and up, up, up! ...until Vhaeryth spits them out again, unhurt by his teeth at least: flying fish. Falling fish. Not too far? Not too far down and, perhaps, not too far from Iesaryth getting fish of her own. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth)

"Someone." Azaylia agrees with a little serious-but-scared nod. Someone not her, thank you very much. "I have Hraedhyth... And we live in a weyr. There's dragons, and riders and just... good ol' weyrfolk to call for help. We're perfectly safe." Still not sold on the idea behind Taikrin's lessons, or the idea of hurting anyone. She hasn't been paying much attention to how she's gathering things, ending up with a big blanket-bundle in her arms. Hides are in there somewhere. "That's fine. It's nice when we get to talk, even for a little bit." Said over her shoulder as she leads the way down and out into the miserable weather. There's a hot meal at the end of the trek, and when Brieli has to leave she'll be wished well through a mouthful of stew.

Falling fish, unless the fish can sprout wings, but something tells Iesaryth they need water to survive... though if they're to be eaten, survival is not necessarily an issue. She'd rather watch fish fall, splash and swim away, silvery bright than eat them. And suddenly pleased; she /will/. Perhaps she'll scoop fish up herself to see them fly. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)

After a time, there's the sense that Iesaryth's gone from just thinking of the ocean to skimming over it, landing on a familiar darkened beach; Monaco. Though there's also the sense of some kind of stealth, inasmuch as a dragon so large can said to be stealthy. Her rider would prefer she not pass this along, but surely Vhaeryth doesn't really count. Who would he tell? (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth)