Difference between revisions of "Logs:We're All Very Tired"

Nathalia laughs, but there's something wrong with the sound. She's sitting at the bar with Kesil, rather intoxicated herself for the early hour. "Wouldn't want to be under the thumb of such a shady lot, no you're quite right about that." Another drain from her glass, "I don't think the weyr leader killed her, he seemed too set on getting them all to be happy here for that." As for the smith hall there's a snort. "Lots of reasons, but mostly it was my own fault. Too much ambition not enough discipline." Something like that anyway. At the laugh she just shakes her head. "No I don't think the weyr leader would have killed her. Though, I wouldn't put it past all the riders, Convicts have impressed before you know." She slurs, sloshing another round into the glass. "There's some shady islanders too, some talking like Lord Fax was some sort of hero."

Hypatia slips in to the Snowasis quietly, carrying a bag over her shoulder that seems to be full of yarn. She slips over to the bar in order to order a drink -- a nonalcoholic fruit smoothie of some kind that the bartender seems to have been expecting well in advance -- and ends up sitting right by Kesil and Nathalia. Close enough to overhear, and respond: "The Weyrleader didn't kill her, I saw him run out after the dragons started going crazy." She's entirely somber and certain on this matter, though of anything else she says little but, "One of the convict riders hangs out with one of the exile riders. Or did before she was a rider. Fairly frequently."

Sa'zl heads in from the patio ledge. Sa'zl has arrived.

Kesil leans back, rolling his shoulders as he sighs softly as his conversation is interrupted. Idly playing with the mug on the bar, he turns, asking none too politely, "And who're you?" With attention back on Nathalia, he responds to her remark, somewhat cryptically, "The Weyrleader isn't the Weyr." As for her ending remark, he gives nothing short of a smirk, "Shady doesn't seem to even do justice these days."

"I'm Hypatia," the name's owner tells Kesil as she receives her smoothie and sips at its straw cautiously. "Apprentice healer." She doesn't say much of anything else, merely inclining her head in return to Nathalia's gesture and consuming her drink. After a moment she's pulling out her knitting, too -- seeing nothing wrong with knitting at the bar. After all, she's sort of participating in a conversation. "I don't know who they'd be being paid /by/, but I believe it."

/Someone/ has slipped the leash of a baby dragon. As long as little blue Yggdratth is asleep, Sa'zl is free -- and is apparently taking his brief freedom to steal into a /bar/. How scandalous! It's a good thing he isn't trying to order anything more mischievous than a fruit-based smoothie of his own, though -- and, as he waits for it, and taps his fingers restlessly (and exhaustedly, let's be fair) on the bar, he scans those closest to him -- cue a brightly-beaming smile at both Hypatia and Nathalia, seeing as how he recognizes them both, and he also promptly flaps a hand in a cheerful wave at them. "Hi!" Their previous conversation has flown entirely past him.

"Fair enough." is offered in response to the Healer. Kesil frowns at Nathalia while considering her comment, "I think that is silly. No one would pay to keep the exiles in the Weyr, and for that matter, I doubt the Weyr would take it." He knits his brows, attention on the young woman as the drink is forgotten, "Which exile is this? That is bad business? I clearly am quite ignorant." He gives what could be considered a self-deprecating grin. The Weyrling is currently ignored, the greeting directed at the others and all.

Nathalia offers a lazy shrug. "Considering that there's blooded folk amongst the Islanders? That little queen rider is one of them. It isn't too hard to imagine that there's lots of folk who would profit." She offers the apprentice healer. There is a glance at the weyrling, "I wouldn't be breaking rules. Never know when that will bite you in the tail." She should know shouldn't she? Her speech continues to slur a little but it seems the conversation has put a halt to her liquor guzzling for the moment. She studies Kesil a moment with a shrug. "That would be Rhaeyln with that Gimp green. Oddly all three that were involved in injuring that egg impressed. Says something for egg touching I think does it not?."

Hypatia squints as Nathalia talks, tilting her head sideways a little. She stops knitting in order to drink, and then speaks up. "It's not a nice word, first off -- gimp. And egg touchings were, I thought, designed to stop the hatchlings from mauling people. So it's more the maulings that are easier explained. Because I was under the impression that, well, Impression wasn't something that could be questioned. Meaning they'd pick the same people regardless -- oh, hi. I thought you had a baby dragon!" Hypatia has seen Sa'zl before. She does not know his name. She probably never did.

Sa'zl beams, if they're going to be talking about dragons. (Not that he was really less-than-beaming before.) "I do! His name is Yggdratth, he's adorable." If by 'adorable' we mean 'has been trying to explore the ENTIRE WEYR for the past twelve days, when not eating his body weight in bloody meat twice a day, pooping everywhere, itching like mad and sleeping', anyway. Sa'zl leans in a little bit closer to Hypatia to offer confidentially, "He's asleep right now, though." And now he has a smoothie, much as Hypatia herself does! How delightful. He looks quizzically at Nathalia, now. "Rhaelyn's nice," he volunteers.

"Interesting..." Is all Kesil has to say in response to Nathalia's remark. A faint flash of surprise crosses his features at the mention of the goldrider, offering a small, "Her too?" He stands abruptly to his feet, a frown on his face as his thoughts get the better of him. Absently, he waves a hand behind him at the gathered, "Well... met." He strides quickly towards the exit, most likely leaving confusion -and surely his drink- at the bar.

Nathalia lacks the subtleties of political correctness while inebriated and she just shrugs. "Probably not the kindest term no, but it's still the truth. I was told it was lucky that the egg hatched at all. Made quite a small fortune when it did." She laughs, for impression there's just a shrug. "Don't claim to understand the mind of dragons, I just meant that it wouldn't have been pretty to have one of those hatchlings trying to get at her in the galleries, with as much mauling as happened this hatching. As the discussion turns to baby dragons the former smith goes a little quiet. "Didn't say Rhae wasn't nice." Well she was not nice in the conventional sense of the word. "I like Rhaelyn, I miss her now that you lot are all holed up in that barracks." There is a forced cheerfulness to that grin. The too in Kesil's little comment catches her attention more firmly and she watches as he leaves.

Hypatia is, by her expression, still trying to wrap her head around that name. "Ig-drat-th?" she repeats, eyeing Sa'zl oddly. "That's kind of unfortunate. How do you spell that? Because I'm willing to bet it's -- unforutnate, probably has a double t which is going to have all hosts of people pronouncing it wrong. But he did look cute. Enjoy his nap while you can." She says nothing of Rhaelyn, largely because she doesn't agree and isn't in the mood to argue.

Spelling? Sa'zl wilts a little bit, and has to stop and actually think about that, sipping at his drink. By 'sipping', what we actually mean he's doing is slurping -- his straw is /noisy/. "Why gee gee dee are ey tee tee aitch," he says with care. Nathalia gets a curious look. "Why don't you want to be kind to her? It isn't her fault that her wing is funny."

Nathalia sighs. "Not a matter of kind or unkind, It may not be the poor hatchlings fault but you can bet it's her riders." Okay perhaps not completely but there's enough. "She'll do fine, just wait and see." The woman adds. "I'd hate to have a dragon with a name like that, can you imagine trying to spit that out up high enough where it's harder to breathe? Its good that Dragons and Riders don't have to communicate vocally I guess." Drinking resumes.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter if they /don't/ have to talk," Hypatia replies diplomatically. She gives Sa'zl a sort of 'really?' look at his noisy drinking, and gets back to her knitting. Right now, the object in question is -- a square.

Sa'zl looks utterly heartbroken at Nathalia's /cruel/ and /callous/ dismissal of his dragon's name. "What's wrong with it?" he asks. "I like it! It's very sweet, I don't understand why you don't like it." Sluuuuurp. He cranes his neck, meanwhile, to peer at Hypatia's knitting. In a very loud aside, he whispers, "What are you making?"

Nathalia says, "Shells." The former smith breathes. "I have to find something useful to do with myself." The words are quiet muted and under her breath, because who she was at the moment. "Nothing, Its just more suited to a big strapping young man like yourself." Because flattery is always the answer? She too studies the knitting with interest. "Yes what is it?""

Hypatia is actually mildly taken aback at all the sudden curiosity in her square -- she hesitates, taking a sip of her drink before answering, "A square." And then pausing for another row before adding more informationally, "It's going to be a bag, eventually, if that was what you actually wanted to know." Now she's got a bit of a smile on.

Sa'zl is prompt, nonetheless, in making his request, now that things are all straightened out with Nathalia -- "Will you make /me/ a square?"

Nathalia says, "A bag sounds interesting." The former smith notes, pulling from her seat and grabbing the bottle popping the cork in. "You both enjoy yourselves; I have to go clean something." More likely pass out but that was another story. "Have a good rest of your day.""

Hypatia is about to answer Sa'zl when she's distracted by Nathalia's departure; she offers a wave and then gives the weyrling another weird look. "Just a square."

"Whatever size you like!" Because Sa'zl is easy to please. And looks really excited at the idea, too.

"Why do you -- just want a square?" Where Sa'zl might be excited, Hypatia is extremely dubious; she has both stopped knitting /and/ stopped drinking just to look at him funny, as if it takes all her mental resources to do that.

"Because there's so much you can /do/ with that!" Sa'zl /stays/ excited, too, and slurpy. "You can put it on your bed, you can put it on your dragon or firelizard, you can hang it on the wall, you can put it on your pillow, you can put it on your head..."

And Hypatia actually does not remain dubious; instead, she merely looks amused. And perhaps a little concerned for this young man's sanity. "I -- sure. I can make you a square. I don't see any reason why not. You don't have a size preference, so how about a color?"

Sa'zl beams again. And, once more, leans in conspiratorially. "Would you believe me if I said I like blue? -- And, more than that, that I liked blue even /before/ Yggdratth found me?"

"I think," Hypatia tells him, with a wry grin, "that I would, yes. Because I think you don't have a reason to lie about what colors you like. And if you /do/, I want to hear all about them," she admits enthusiastically, before returning at least half her attention to the smoothie.

"Hear all about ... reasons to lie?" Sa'zl puzzles out. "Or hear all about /all/ the colors I like? And I hope you realize that you could say no, or you could make something that wasn't just a square, whether or not that's because it's a rectangle instead. Right?"

"Well, I was thinking I'd either use scraps or charge you for the materials," Hypatia replies evenly. "So if /that's/ a problem you may prefer I say no! But I meant the reasons to lie, although I suppose if a color was a reason to lie the color might also be interesting."

"Maybe... some people are ashamed by their favorite colors?" Sa'zl is obviously guessing, here. "I know some boys like pink but they're afraid to admit that. But I don't have a problem with pink," he confides. "Or any color, really, but I really do /like/ blue! And Yggdratth is such a /pretty/ blue. Did you get to see him?"

Hypatia nods. "I saw the hatching. Not after that, though." Knit. Sip. She is not the world's most interesting company, not at present generating her own conversation content so much as just working off him. Belatedly, she remembers to add, "I like pink."

"So will you make me a really big rectangle?" Sa'zl persists, smiling hopefully and cheerfully at her. "In any colors you like. I changed my mind."

"A really big rectangle," Hypatia prompts, "or -- a /blanket/? Because that entirely changes the stitching pattern. I'm not a weaver, also. Don't expect professional."

Sa'zl looks uncertain, now. "I was thinking /like/ a blanket," he admits, "but -- it's up to you? It doesn't have to be fancy! And I think I can pay you for the yarn. I think." Maybe. Depending on how much it is.

Hypatia seems to be taking this in, nodding as Sa'zl talks. There might be a little bit of a mock to her tone, though it's not mocking him so much as the situation: her voice makes it seem as if this is the most important thing ever. "A very large rectangle that is not, in fact, a blanket. But could be used as one in an emergency. Meaning it does not have blanket trim, but it's warm."

"Exactly!" Cue relief. "Unless you /want/ to make it have blanket trim," he adds, anxious to cover all his bases. (He'd still be slurping, but even the last dregs of his smoothie are long gone, to the extent he can't even make the obnoxious rattling sound with his straw anymore.) "And if it's faster without then maybe leave it off because I want Yggdratth to know what blankets are like." He stops to consider this, and adds, "Handmade ones."

Hypatia can't seem to be able to prevent herself from starting to giggle, then, at Sa'zl's intentness on /not/ actually knowing what he wants. "So," she says, once she's recovered her somber seriousness, "you actually /do/ want a blanket. And not a square. Or a rectangle. Except what you want is an extremely /boring/ blanket. Cheaply made by someone who is not a weaver."

Sa'zl wilts. "I -- not when you put it like /that/!" he protests.

"So you don't actually want anything?" Hypatia grins, then takes pity on him. "What you want is a large knit rectangle made up of my scraps."

"Yes, please," Sa'zl says meekly, and belatedly leaves his smoothie cup behind on the bar's countertop. "I think you're a very good knitter," he adds cautiously. She might bite.

Hypatia likely does, at times, or at least verbally; but this doesn't seem to be one of them. Instead, she smiles. "Thanks. I take it you've seen the hats around. The winter ones. The -- long hats. I make those." From her one very impressive hat came three or four more for the Weyr's children. "And I'm not good enough to be a professional, but I wouldn't want to be anyway, because if I were, I'm certain I would hate doing it afterward."

"Hats? You made those?" Cue Sa'zl brightening and perking up again. "Could you make me one of those, too, when you have time?" Hopeful face!

"How would you know I was a good knitter," Hypatia pries, back to sounding wary, "if you hadn't actually seen anything I'd made except for the hat on my head that I figured must have been obvious I made, and this square?"

"It's a very well-knitted square!" Sa'zl answers very earnestly. "And I don't know anyone who knits in public confidently who /isn't/ good at it -- people who are just learning do it in private so nobody can distract them!"

"I suppose," Hypatia admits, finishing off the last of her smoothie and (just barely) resisting the urge to rattle her straw around obnoxiously, "that you might be right about that point. What's it like," she decides to actually ask, because he might actually have an opinion, "with all those exiles?"

Sa'zl tilts his head at her. "What do you mean?"

Hypatia says, "I mean, they're a bit --" and then finds that she isn't entirely sure what she means. After all, she's no gossip. She's not the best at conversational tactics in general, often waiting for them to come to her. But she is not going to sit and discuss squares forever, so there must be something -- "Unusual, yes? And not all that fond of people from outside their group. Clan. Whichever you'd call it. So it must be odd, sharing a barracks with them."

Sa'zl actually does stop to think about it, fingertips tapping on the bar he's leaning on once again. (By magic and mistake, another smoothie appears. He doesn't seem to notice.) "I guess it might be," he says slowly. He's still studying Hypatia's knitting, as she perches on a stool next to him. "I don't really know. They're /people/, just the same as you and me -- they just came from someplace with funny rules, and so they didn't know what everyone here takes for granted. /I/ don't know how to live at a Hold," he tells Hypatia solemnly. "I wouldn't think I did! I think people are mad at them because there are a lot of them and they don't know how to live here, without giving them the chance to learn. A lot of them died when they got sick, you know. I think it must be very scary for them, being stuck here."

"Oh, I know," Hypatia responds as if people dying and getting sick is so entirely run of the mill she can afford to be airy about it. Which: she can, because she is her. And is going to be airy about most things,a and has always been airy about that sort of thing -- unless she is, instead, showing enthusiasm. Which, right now, she is not. "I was taking vital signs daily for weeks. On what felt like a hundred people. I wasn't really surprised so many died, though; so not used to the climate. The introducing was handled pretty badly. The re-introducing, to things like food? That wasn't, so much." This she can talk about with much more readiness than the idea of the exiles Impressing. "I mean, I can't really understand how the barracks work anyway. What if there were a terrible illness? You're all too close together. Which was part of the problem with the exiles as well."

"I think we'd all end up sick," Sa'zl agrees solemnly, and -- for once -- doesn't look full of good cheer about it. "So I guess," brightening up again a little, "that's what you and the other Healers are for -- to help us not get sick! Or to help us get better if we do get sick. I don't really know what it's like," he confides. "I don't remember being sick." Ever. "But I broke my arm when I was five."

During what has turned into a semi-frantic search, Azaylia finds herself stepping carefully into a winter wonderland. Eyes wide and ears assulted by the unexpected crowd, the unfamiliar cavern is as good as anywhere to continue her Quest for the Missing Journeyman. Keeping her head low, she ducks and weaves around folks, pausing only to peek at what could possibly be a familiar face. When proven wrong, she makes a hasty retreat towards the bar, an life preserver in a sea of bodies and oddly enticing decor. Reluctant to leave the bar, the apprentice catches sight of something that looks... really good. "What's that?" The murmur is paired with a pointing finger directed at Sa'zl's smoothie.

Hypatia, uncaring about things like 'manners,' answers the question addressed toward Sa'zl for him. She used to have one of those, after all: she ordered it first. "It's a smooth drink," she says cooly. "Fruits and some cream and -- something else. No alcohol." She's not explaining what it's like to be sick, nor is she really responding to what might have been a compliment, but she does idly pat Sa'zl's arm. "Bet it was the left one, 'cause it's longer?"

Sa'zl's eyes widen, all right. "How did you /know/? I always thought it made more sense for it to have come out shorter!" And then he twists around to look for the source of the quiet voice, and is surprised to find someone as large as Azaylia. "They're good!" he tells her exuberantly. "Did you want to try it? I didn't know it was there."

Azaylia gives a start, nearly matching his height with that little jump as Sa'zl turns to look at her. Hypatia is familiar enough, though just barely. Still, it's a safe place for her gaze to settle, only after answering the lad with a quiet, "Oh, no thank you. It's yours." But she's certainly intrigued by the idea. The other apprentice earns a tilt of her head, "Fruits and cream?" The want is certainly there, though she steps back a bit to peer down the length of the bar. Another murmur, "Do they cost a lot of marks?" Quest? What quest?

"No, they're pretty cheap," Hypatia relays to Azaylia with an encouraging 'do it' sort of smile. Everyone should like smoothies, clearly. "And if you don't want this one, bluerider whose name I can't remember, I'll drink it for you. As I don't think anyone actually paid for it -- oh, did you actually want me to explain, about the arm?" She has one eyebrow ever-so-slightly raised.

"Yes, please," Sa'zl says, and scoops his smoothie up protectively. It's not as if he doesn't /want/ it! He was just willing to share it for the good of the stranger. Who gets a welcoming, friendly smile from the big blond wall. "I'm Sa'zl," he says, for the sake of both of them. "What's your name?" Technically this is directed more to the newcomer, since he's pretty sure he knows the healer-apprentice's name.

Azaylia can't keep the smile from cautiously creeping onto her lips. "Hypatia, right?" The keeper of knowledge, when it comes to what will hurt a beastcrafter's allowance and what won't. Her lips straighten, smile scampering in fright at Sa'zl's greeting, coaxed out only by his genuinely amiable nature. "Azaylia. Nice to meet you." Her hands move to the bar, body stiffly turning in the right direction to figure out how to get one of those smooth things.

"Hypatia," agrees Hypatia. "Very bad with names. Well -- not /very/, but they slip my mind, and I also knew it was Saz-something but had no idea what your name had changed to," she adds in Sa'zl's direction. "Speaking of which, isn't one of the brown weyrlings still saddled with his old name? How does that work?"

The haggard expression of one of the weyr's newest bronzeriders explains everything that is going on in Kh'ry's world right now. For some reason he is here rather than the living caverns -- maybe that's another obvious nod to his current state of mind. Zombieland. Yeah, that's right -- he's in ZOMBIELAND. And he's walking towards the knot of people, maybe just a little glassy-eyed.

"I think it's because Jaques is so short," Sa'zl says. Meaning the name, of course -- but to him, just about /all/ his other weyrlingmates are short, anyway. He waves at the bartender, which will help Azaylia out -- Sa'zl is a good bit bolder and more visible, after all. And in the waving, he spots Kh'ry, who looks substantially more asleep than Yggdratth still is -- so when the bartender shows up, Sa'zl orders "klah for Kh'ry, first of all," and /then/ turns to Azaylia. "Did you want one of the smoothies?"

Azaylia never tries to eavesdrop, it just seems to be that people like to talk about interesting things nearby. Does it count as spying if she's introduced herself? Caught up in the dilemma of whether or not she's being rude, the bartender's appearance catches her by surprise. Squeak. "O-oh. Yes, please." Fingers dipping into her pockets, she glances to she-who-knows-all. "How much was yours?" Nevermind that the 'tender likely has the answer, Hypatia has been reliable so far. Kh'ry? A blink, and she peeks over her shoulder at the bronze weyrling. "Oh, Khorde." Slow to pick up those rider names.

Emme heads up a short flight of stairs from the Weyr entrance. Emme has arrived.

Hypatia bites her lip. Shrug. "A quarter-mark, I think? I have a tab. I pay it off sometimes. When I can." She is, of course, so well-informed about so many things; but Hypatia could probably know more about money. As it is, she rarely remembers how things cost and is terribly poor at getting things priced. She spins around on her stool to look at poor Kh'ry, and looks -- well -- a bit concerned. "Oh dear. Maybe get him water, too?"

Kh'ry turns a grateful expression upon his clutchmate, slumping down into a chair in his general vicinity. He folds his arms onto the surface of the table - bar? - whatever, and goes face-first into it. Mumbled: "Tmraanwaantluffmaloneyjstfwaannslfff." He lifts his head only to wearily stare at Azaylia for a long moment, and comment, "Hi, 'zaylia," before letting his forehead drop back down to his folded arms once more. Zombie, here, yes. "Mmmfss." That may be a 'yes' for water. Then again -- it could be mindless gibbering.

Sa'zl very carefully reaches over to pat Kh'ry on the back of the head. He even uses the hand that isn't covered in condensation, because he's just that friendly! The bartender is smart enough to bring the water without even being asked, and it -- and the lifeblood klah -- are left in easy reach of Kh'ry, while not so close that sitting upright is /likely/ to leave them knocked over. Azaylia's iteration of the fruity smoothie takes a moment longer, but it shows up quickly, too, before she can decide whether a quarter-mark is a good price or not. "Did you eat anything today?" Sa'zl asks Kh'ry gently.

Oh my. Tabs are for ruffians and unseemly types who frequent seedy bars. So Azaylia can't help but giggle at the fact that Hypatia having one, even as she places the wooden disks onto the bar. Once she's paid up front, the beastcrafter takes the time to look concerned. Shy and hiding a bit behind Sa'zl at the impromptu nickname, and then concerned again. "Hi." She greets, not wanting to pile words onto Kh'ry's ears, as she's not sure he can handle it. Before she can point out the obvious, her smoothie arrives. Happysqueak, Azaylia is distracted.

Emme is the next weyrling to shuffle in from the bowl. It seems that it is generic dragonet napping time. She too appears a big haggard. Hair twisted up into a bun with tendrils falling out messily, dark circles under her eyes, and a perpeually dazed look. Completely unlike her usual. Which is why she slumps down into a spot right near Kh'ry without actually thinking about i first. Frenemy alert!!! All she sees is: fellow zombie. "H'lo."

It is now a weyrling invasion: from just Sa'zl to now Kh'ry and Emme, Hypatia's space is really, really be-weyrling'd. She is silently grateful for Azaylia, though doesn't actually even consider it enough to comment; and of course she has a tab. She has a smoothie tab. Hypatia would never drink alcohol. "Does anyone know," she asks lightly, to the group at large, "what it is he just said? Something won't leave him alone and he just wants -- what?"

Kh'ry is patted on the head. Any reference to how much of a dog he is should wait until at least the next pose round, right? Eventually he unglues his face from his arms -- the smell of fresh klah is rather revitalizing, after all. He cups the precious liquid in his grip, nodding silently to Sa'zl's inquiry as he sips on the still-foreign-tasting liquid. "'Tender," Kh'ry even manages to croak, after a few sips; "Another klah?" He points at Emme. A few more sips, and he's slumping back over, evidently unaware that Hypatia is actually talking about /him/.

"Sleep. I'm ... pretty sure he wants sleep," is Sa'zl's translationary effort. He's used to not sleeping much -- apparently. That, or else he can't tell that he's exhausted, and is actually vibrating slightly due to too much time spent awake and too many nutritional-supplement smoothies keeping him awake. Hard for anyone to tell. "You're supposed to sleep when he sleeps, you know!"

Azaylia is busy making noises that aren't squeaks or stutters, for once. No, they are nummy-noises. Mmn. Mm! Hmmm. She's tugged away from her creamy, blended paradise once she remembers her manners. "Those were words?" Impressed by the translation, the apprentice turns and catches sight of Emme and her stiff journey to the bar. A few steps are taken back, giving Sa'zl enough room as more of his brood arrive. "Hi Emmeli... Emme." A sip gives her time to pause and correct herself. "Congratulations, to you both." A glance. "Uhm, all."

"Yes, that word. That one right there." Emme agrees, with a spark of life in her eyes when the magic 'k' word is uttered. In slow motion, her head pivots towards Azaylia and... give her a moment here. Recognition! "Thank you, Azaylia." is said sincerely. "But we can't do anything *unless* they are asleep. Like bathe, or eat something other then meatrolls, or... you know, that sort of thing."

"I'm pretty sure," Hypatia says with an assessing nod at Kh'ry, "that those were words. I have no idea what words they /were/, but they were without a doubt words. Or an attempt at words. Most sleep-deprived people sound like that, so if it was 'sleep' like Saz thinks it's reasonable that it was only an attempt at words."

Complaining: "He /dreams/." Obviously, Temrianth's couch is of close proximity to Ysavaeth's. "And it makes /me/ want to sleep." He slumps over -- and Emme's closest, so she may end up with his head snuggled against her arm. What? They were Islanders together. He can get away with it ... right? Ahem. He blearily blinks at Hypatia. "You're pretty." He MUST be sleep deprived. Cuddling with Emme AND hitting on a strange girl? Faranth. Kh'ry, obviously.

"Thank you!" Sa'zl says first, to Azaylia, with a beam of a smile. New friend! And then Kh'ry gets patted atop the head again. Good boy. To Emme: "I always thought that climbing into the tub with a dragon would be a good way to get both of you clean, and I'm happy to say that so far it seems accurate."

Azaylia mumbles around a full mouth, "Whelchom." Hand quickly rising to check and see if any of the creamy goodness has escaped. No, still clean. The exposure to something so new and delicious seems dangerous, proof being that once she's swallowed the girl offers everyone a big, beaming smile. Goodness! "Hopefully the klah will help," She nods towards Hypatia, before her attention is ripped away. "...your dragon dreams?"

It's safe to say that yes, the primary reason that Kh'ry gets away with resting his head on Emme's arm... especially *that* arm, is because he's an Islander. And also a zombieling. Both of those combined make him immune to her customary wrath. "She is pretty." the former harper agrees, of Hypatia, perhaps not thinking clearly when she says it. As surely it will only fuel the boy's, uhm, very specific obsessions. "Dragon dreams are unusual?" Huh? Azaylia has captures her attention with that question. But then, so has Sa'zl with the ingenious idea to climb into a tub with a 4 foot long dragon. "Well... yes. But sometimes it's nice to bathe in hot water, with soaps and nice smelling oils and..."

"Your dragon won't fit forever," Hypatia was already saying before she registered Kh'ry's comment; and then before she registered Emme's. Well. Evidently, everyone thinks she's pretty today, so they all get a winningly sweet smile: "And thank you. I've never been complimented so thoroughly by sleep-deprived weyrlings before." Sleepy Kh'ry actually gets patted on the head. Again, really, bu tthis time by Hypatia.

Kh'ry lifts his head enough to stare fuzzily at Emme, since -- something she just did blew his worldview. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again -- and there's Hypatia patting his head. /This/ finally rips Regular!Khorde out of Zombie!Kh'ry, and he tosses all of them a disgruntled look. "What is /wrong/ with you people? I know my hair is awesome, but -- really?" Or -- something to that effect. It likely isn't as potent since he kinda mumbles it all together. And then, since he's that awesome, he takes his toys (or just his klah mug) and goes home.

Sa'zl is left blinking in surprise, not to say astonishment, at Kh'ry's abrupt departure -- but at least he's /pretty/ sure it isn't his fault, and is probably mostly based on lack-of-sleep, so Kh'ry's departing backside is given a cheerful wave of farewell before Sa'zl turns back to Emme. "You know, while they're little, in the middle of the night when they wake up and are all itchy, you can still sneak them off to the bathing chambers," he confides, in very-nearly-actually-this-time a whisper. "And then you're both warm and soaped!"

"I don't know what's unusual." Azaylia answers promptly, though gently as she peers back at Emme. A thought, though it's possibly an excuse to steal another sip. "Especially about baby dragons." Those two words alone carry the heavy, round weight of babytalk, the herder managing to refrain. Just barely. Kh'ry's grumpy expression catches her off guard, "Maybe he's just cranky?" She offers as a quiet explination. Though as there's talk of hatchlings and secretive bathing, Azaylia inhales sharply, eyes widening at the possibility. She may have to change her routine of morning baths, to nightly.

Emme just blinks guielessly at Kh'ry, obviously not understanding the stare. She's not thinking. Hello! "Puhlease. Your hair is not that awesome. Specially not when it's sticking up at different angles." There she is; good ol reliable snark-Emme. But Sa'zl, he has successfully imparted the best idea ever. "We can sneak them in?" she whispers back, leaning forward despite realizing everyone can hear them. "I will totally sneak Rhazekth in if others will sneak theirs in." She nods a few times about this. -Totally- loving the idea!

Hypatia diplomatically pretends, as she watches Kh'ry depart, that she cannot hear Emme and Sa'zl's exchange /at all/. "I'm guessing that he, the departing weyrling, is just completely exhausted and therefore allowed to feel however he wants, as -- tired people do that. It's a serious health condition, overtiredness."

Sa'zl looks attentively at Hypatia, after casting a wink at Emme. "Do you have any advice for us, then?" he asks. After all, she /is/ the healer! ... apprentice. Whatever. "We're all very tired." Even if he doesn't seem to know how to show it.

Azaylia gives a moment of silence for her fallen beverage, startled to see the bottom of the mug looking back up at her. "It is?" Distracted, she places the once-a-smoothie down, her own gaze settling on the apprentice healer as well. "I know it's dangerous to overwork runners..." But usually people have a bit more sense about when they should sleep. Usually. Seeing Emme and Kh'ry's condition has the beastcrafter squinting, vision glazed by tears as she covers a mighty yawn with the tips of her fingers.

Emme just wraps her hands around her own mug and drinks deeply of the klah there. "Supposed to get better after the first few months though, right? If I read correctly. Which, I mean, I really might not have." Because she wasn't prepared at ALL for any of what's been happening. "Also hard to tell sometimes if we're feeling what they are, or if it's something we really are experiencing."

"I don't know a /thing,/" Hypatia admits with absolutely no shame about her, since why /would/ she know, really, "about dragons. Or about growing dragons. Or how things change when you have a dragon. All I know is that sleep deprivation can cause delirium which is very serious and very dangerous! So you should try short-lasting sleep draughts for when your dragons are sleeping, or something along those lines. Because I don't know anything about dragons, though, I really don't -- know. Weyr healing is new, still."

"That sounds like it makes sense," Sa'zl begins tentatively, and then -- his eyes cross, and he sets down his half-finished second smoothie on the bar top with an unsteady click. "Oh, and I meant to take a nap /before/ you woke up," he mumbles to himself.

Azaylia tentatively creeps up to Hypatia's defense, though it's against the apprentice's own words. "You're smart. I bet you could know about dragons, if you wanted." Though that may not be the case. Not everyone is animal crazy like a certain herder. Another yawn slips from her lips, this time ending in a surprised squeak. "Uhm?" Weyrlings are weird.

"Delirium. That is suddenly making a lot of sense." Emme murmurs, once Hypatia has spoken. Like maybe some of what she's seen the past few days have been nothing more then mind tricks! "Yours woke up, didn't he." She casts a glance at Sa'zl. "Once one wakes, they all start to. It's like a big internal social alarm. I'mma haul ass back to the barracks." Sigh. The last of her drink is drained and she shuffles towards the bar to return the cup. But not before waving to everyone at the table!

"See you guys later," is the first thing Hypatia says, even as she is gathering her own knitting back into her bag to rise. "And thank you," is the second, to Azaylia, leaving out the explanation for why she is just yet packing up her things. "I appreciate that! I simply /haven't/, because I've never learned -- I suppose I'll have to learn some about the health issues of dragonriders, now, since I might stay here forever or something." A shrug; and then she remembers that she is departing without explanation and it tends to be considered a good idea to explain why you are leaving. "-- Them taking off reminded me I do actually have classwork," she tells Azaylia, guiltily. "Sorry to abandon you!"

"Blue," Sa'zl says out of the -- well -- blue, to Hypatia, before grinning at her, draining his smoothie all in one go, and dropping his glass back off. And then he's wincing and clutching at the top of his head from a freeze-headache as he scampers past the crowds to get back to the barracks as quickly as he can, so little Yggdratth won't be lonely anymore!

Azaylia blinks. As quickly as her (and Sa'zl's) smoothie has disappeared, so have her companions. Nothing can wipe the uncertain, lopsided smile off her face, steadily growing wider as it all washes over her. She /knows/ people now! More than before, and some even twice. Warm fuzzies build in her gut, tumbling down as her forgotten task returns with a vengance. "Oh!" And she's off, back to searching for a certain Journeyman.