Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bathing Bedlam"

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.

Summer has finally come, and while even summer at 'Reaches can be a little chilly to some, with Rukbat shining so brightly, anywhere with the sunshine is luxuriously temperate. K'zin and Rasavyth must have just come out of the lake. K'zin's pants are back on, at least, a towel running over his shortened locks. He and some of the others got released a little early from lessons for the day, and the picnic blanket with basket and large jar of oil says K'zin's going to great lengths to properly enjoy the free time this afternoon brings. Rasavyth is glittering wherever droplets of water remain on his burnt cinnabar hide, waiting at the edge of the blanket for what must surely come next: oiling.

Waist-deep in the water, Telavi's been laughing with a cluster of other early-released weyrlings, which does slow down the scrubbing of Solith though she's kept diligently at it. The no longer quite so little green may have proved to be a surprisingly avid hunter, but Tela keeps finding frustrating flecks of wherry-ichor lodged in crevices between neckridges and headknobs, the joints of her wings and more, all made increasingly difficult to see with the shining summer light that picks out Solith's hide in a yellower green. Still, eventually both have had enough, and Solith escapes her to scamper up along the edge of the shore. Of course, she would have to eventually meander towards that jar and everything else that's near it. Of course, her wings are still very wet, just like the rest of her. Of course, she could shake them out all over. Of course... she probably won't.

Rasavyth's warble to Solith is friendly and inviting. Yes, indeed he has been extra friendly to any of the dragons who excel in hunting (and often seen following them in the feeding grounds to take advantage of already corralled, wrangled, or panicked beasts. His own skill is pitiful. He's improved since the start of the month, but is still missing more often than he's actually getting a good meal. He stretches his darker shaded wings so the sun can hit them more readily, which inadvertently (or possibly intentionally) shades K'zin, "Heeeey." comes the former Smith's complaint and he tosses down the towel onto the blanket and starts towards the oil. "Hey Tela!" K'zin greets cheerfully, the annoyance with his lifemate lost as he sees the green weyrling on his way to pick up a paddle. "How's it going?"

Well, then! Solith continues her path with greater purpose, her returning warble pleased, her light-sensitive eyes doubly lidded but not enough to truly conceal just how blue they are. Of course, she'll be an even better hunter when she actually has the mass to pull off what she'd like to do, but in the meantime... there's been a sort of mutual generosity: she may wind up killing for Rasavyth at times, but it's partially offset by how she also gets to kill more things. But there's that towel, and suddenly she's distracted, nosing it: maybe it needs killing? Oh, it probably won't bleed, but just for fun! Her rider misses all this, at least until K'zin calls her name, and which point her glance quickly catches on what her dragon's angling to get up to, "Not again. Be right there!" She rolls her eyes towards the dragons by way of apology to the other weyrlings, and abandons them in favor of checking on Solith. Weyrbred or no, the weyrling hasn't been going naked, though her sleeveless tunic is drenched just as much as her admittedly short shorts, and she doesn't quite manage to stomp in sandals, but it's a close call.

And a ferocious towel it is. The way it just lays there until Solith starts nosing it. Then its folds are falling to one side, movement. Clearly a dangerous threat that needs to be eliminated. Rasavyth's lidded eyes track the green as she moves, flicking his tail after a moment, in one, smooth purposeful move. What is the purpose? Why, to see if it's only towels Solith is interested in chasing. The pose of Rasavyth's crouch has subtly changed, prepared for the possibility of a pounce by the smaller dragon. "Again?" K'zin asks, first confused, then his eyes follow as she moves and he's laughing. "Happen to you often?" He queries pleasantly, stirring the oil with his paddle to correct any unwanted settling.

Clearly! Solith isn't bothered by how the towel isn't truly clean anymore, either, and gladly if delicately sinks her teeth into it like the scruff of some beast she hasn't quite yet decided to kill. With Rasavyth's eyes on her, she shakes it. Broken neck, now! Not that she's difficult to mesmerize, her narrow head tracking the tail-flick. She crouches, too. The muscles in her hindquarters tense. It's wholly unsubtle, but at least her maw is occupied by the towel instead of, oh, those dark wings, even if she generally doesn't go all out in a tussle. Through all this, Telavi's continued approaching, stopping just short of actually stepping on the blanket. "Never," she says, rolling her eyes again but for K'zin's benefit this time. "No, she stays by my side every waking moment and is constantly cooing, 'Tela, Tela, what can I do to help?!'" And then, right then is when Solith makes her move.

Poor K'zin. So sweetly oblivious. He'd begun to lift the paddle with a heaping lop of oil on it, half way to Ras' shoulder, right when Solith makes her move. Ras may be fairly clumsy when it comes to the physical, but his slender build makes him fast, and he turns his crouch to face Solith. Whether it was Solith's pounce or Ras' whip around and hunker down to playfully engage the green who knocked the oil pot on the ground, the world may never know. It's all happened too fast, leaving K'zin splattered in sandy oil as dragon limbs splash into the mess, too focused on the play and less focused on the mess they're making. K'zin looks downright dumbfounded; not by Solith, but by Rasavyth who has his undivided attention for the moment, jaw slack and gaping.

He looks dumbfounded. Telavi, newly if not as thoroughly splattered, looks horrified. "Solith!" Solith is cheerfully oblivious of the humans, being busy grappling with Rasavyth, wings spreading for balance and thereby flinging more water into the mix. So excited!

Alida has arrived. Ilicaeth has arrived.

Some of the weyrlings have gotten off a little early from lessons today and are starting their "free time" (har, har) with bathing and oiling their mates on the shore. Most of the weyrlings are still in the water on the bathing phase. K'zin and Telavi and their lifemates, however, seem to have made and effort towards phase 2: oiling. It has gone horribly awry. K'zin and Telavi stand near their lifemates, K'zin thoroughly splattered with sandy oil, and Telavi also splattered, though not as thoroughly. Their dragons are playing. That's right, Rasavyth is hunkered down growling, grappling, and batting at Solith. He uses his greater size to his advantage as he throws more of his bulk against her, toppling the pair into sandy oil (a result of a just overturned oil vat; certainly a draconic donation to the whole situation). K'zin looks dumbfounded, and Telavi looks horrified. It's clearly all just happened because the only thing that's been done to stop this is that Telavi has yelled her 'mates name. That's it. The shout, however, is enough to snap K'zin out of his slack-jawed gawking. "Rasavyth, stop!" His Smithly mind is working fast. What's sandpaper made out of? And what do you use to sometimes lubricate whatever you're sanding to get an even finer smoothness? Chances are neither dragon signed up to have their hides buffed, spa-style. To reinforce his thoughts, the man spews logic at his lifemate. "You're going to rub your hide raw. Cut it out!"

Whereas Telavi, unthinking, runs right into the mess and tries to bodily separate them, like that's going to help matters when Solith's wings have barely shut in time but her tail is lashing and her neck is twisting and there's more of that batting going on, never mind that she's so much lighter, she's gleeful. Not to mention Rasavyth. Claws? If there are any, Telavi doesn't see them, trying to get a better hold of the young green's neck by her shoulders to drag her back. Only thing: oil. Not so good for grabbing, even with the sand.

It's almost Summer on Pern's northern hemisphere, but the weather... well, for High Reaches, apparently this will have to settle for 'warm.' Ilicaeth is preceding his lifemate out to the lake, the blue intent on grabbing a quick bath and oiling...Alida trailing him while lugging a small oil pot and a paddle. She looks more resigned than anything else, while the brick of a blue appears in better spirits, his slatey self striding along with a quick and efficient step that leaves the blonde a bit in the dust. When 'caeth notices the other pair of weyrlings sparring, he gives a solid, yet airy bugel to Ras and Solith, the blue switching over into a draconic gallop, while his human half simply sighs, and barks out to Waki and Telavi, "Incomiiing!" Yep, the warrior-dragon's barreling along towards them all, intending on joining the playful fracas of his siblings.

Ilicaeth's coming might be fortuitous for Solith, for she's starting to lose her original playmate. Logic is something that Rasavyth's mind is far too clever to ignore. The surprise of his lifemate actually pointing something important out to him for a change is enough to get his attention, and the fact of the matter is that he doesn't want a raw hide (he already has enough trouble with certain itch spots). So as Tela wades in, Rasavyth is trying to disengage, untangle limbs. Withdraw is one option, though perhaps the better would have been submission - but physical submission is not his specialty. He's leading with tail and wriggling hindquarters trying to get out of the mess when Ilicaeth is on his way in. The bronze realizes the presence of Solith's rider in the melee, and tries to keep her from harm, but there's so many limbs and wings and tails and heads everywhere that a stray hit of some kind might be impossible to avoid. K'zin is suddenly less concerned with his own dragon (knowing he's on the retreat) than he is with seeing Telavi moving in and the approaching blue. "Tela!" He shouts, cautioning, moving himself into the fray to try to bring her out of it!

Seconds pass like minutes. There's something about a good tumble that's gotten Solith's adrenaline up, and with Rasavyth backing up and Ilicaeth audibly approaching... she bugles challenge and rises to her hindquarters, forepaws up but claws in, hopping as she scuffles after the bronze. Never mind that she's not even as long from muzzle to tail as he is to the shoulder! If her hide will be scuffed later, if she's even heard, it doesn't seem to matter... and there's plenty of room for Ilicaeth to get into the fray. Plenty of room, too, for him to get conked by a stray limb like Telavi's shoulder just did, sending her staggering out in surprise.

Alida's keen of sight, but she's too far away yet to see the details well. She *does*, however, hear the shouting and moving all about, so when she bellows like a drill instructor "ILICAETH!", the broad and craggy blue immediately slams on the brakes, his eyes changing instantly from happy blue to purple anxiety. It would've worked decently, given that he slowed soon enough... except for the sludgy, slippery mess on the ground, which the dragon's just stepped into. Immediately, he goes down in the front quarter, his chin hitting the ground soundly, while the blue's rear half, slip-slides and claws all about, a bawl of protest and fear flying out of his lungs as his oversized wings open partially to try and help him slow down, maneuver. The screech-scratch of coppery claws upon stone sounds off upon the air, magnified by the nearby water. For Alida, it's all in sloooooow-moooo...the pot of oil and paddle dropped to the ground and left behind as she launches into a run after abandoning her flip-flops. Ilicaeth skids, slides, careens just barely past Telavi and K'zin, but the last foot of his long tail manages to swipe the male across one thigh, likely staggering Waki, or more. As for the green and bronze...well, they're much bigger, thus 'easier' targets. One big wing looks like it will likely whap Rasavyth upside his head or neck, and poor Solith will probably feel the impact of one of the blue's strong, square haunches to some part of her as he spins around...all four walking limbs having gone out from under him, by now.

Sudden fear and concern blasts over all the mind in the Weyr, the weyrling blue managing to sound like both an adult and a child as he trumpets loudly, « Get out of the WAY! » (Ilicaeth to all High Reaches dragons)

To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth is there. « WHAT. » Comes the bellow, heard above her viciously loud drums, all that she is, all that she is able to do offered to the pup who has cried out. If only she is able to know what it is that causes Ilicaeth such fear.

There's no words this time from the stalwart blue, simply a flurry of images he sees while spinning about, the sensations that come with slip-sliding, crashing into other weyrlings, the oil thick under his body and scrabbling claws. Oh, and there's the pain too...in his lower jaw and chin, in front leg muscles, one wingsail and a haunch...as they all impact something hard in one way or another. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth, Rasavyth, and Solith)

« Mother!! » Rasavyth's tenor is jumped in pitch as he is caught in a melee of emotion and confusion. « Mother, please! Hold us still! » What starts as confusing image becomes clear for a brief moment: three dragons, bronze, blue and green, two weyrlings, male and female, all tangled together in a mess on the sands of the lake shore, and then it dissolves into chaos once more. Instinct, the unseen bond between mother and child prompts him to reach for Hraedhyth instead of Iesaryth, and to ask for her influence that he found uncomfortable to the point of pain before. (Rasavyth to Hraedhyth)

Difficult as it may be to understand, there is order to that chaotic fury, the protective surge that reaches to greet Rasavyth. Fiery embrace is maintained even as she struggles to understand. She is here. It is going to be okay. Stubborn nature steels itself, savage confidence forcing a warrior's calm when faced with battle. She hears him. (Hraedhyth to Rasavyth)

Rasavyth froze. The moment everything started going haywire, he hunkered down and braced. That being the case doesn't lessen the whack of wing to noggin, probably not pleasant for either of them as Rasavyth can't help a raspy growl of pain and protest. K'zin's arms encircle Telavi in what would be a protective hold, starting to try to lift her out of the tangle of bronze tail and-- is that green too? snaking unknowingly around their feet. No sooner does he have her lifted up does blue tail contact his right thigh. Then the world speeds up all too fast as he fall backwards, Telavi with her back to his front, still closed in his arms. Arms release only after impact, and the man groans.

Hraedhyth is quick to launch herself down to where the three are, heavy landing followed by a possessive, protective bellow. It is meant for those who would try to interfere. Keep away. Flames are whipped up into a frenzy, reaching out to the tangled mass of oil, flesh and hide. Jaws clamp down onto their scruffs, minds free to roam while bodies are kept-- ordered-- to fall still. For all of her might, it is experience that keeps those flames from scorching, though it may not be at all pleasant to be met with a gold's influence. « Do. Not. Move. » Drums thunder on, a refrain for the command they have no choice but to obey. (Hraedhyth to Ilicaeth, Rasavyth, and Solith)

Hraedhyth has arrived.

The tiny, transparent bugs of Rasavyth's mind that had been walling out the touch of his dam for days now, are in action. No wall, they're working on something else. The influence doesn't hurt this time. It's not even all that uncomfortable. As the bugs furiously work to bring patterns into being, sense from nonsense, order from chaos, the reason becomes clear: this time he was intending to obey; was in fact, already obeying when her order came. This time he knew to expect it. This time, he can see it clearly for what it is. The metallic clinking of bug coupling to bug to make that odd ooze of his begins to process this new information. (Rasavyth to Hraedhyth)

That wasn't supposed to happen. Already-precarious Solith's knocked airborne by the sheer power of Ilicaeth's involuntary push. Rather than claw Rasavyth, her hindpaws reach up instinctively and her wings beat hard as her mind pushes, lifting her two paces, three... Telavi's slamming backward and here's hoping her skull didn't bang K'zin's nose before she can roll loose... the weyrlings out in the lake are shouting... and then Hraedhyth's order kicks in, and the green squeaks, and it's a good thing the lake's below her now because she's not moving. Except her body still is, all hail momentum.

He's a tough, strong-willed kid, but still, Ilicaeth is mostly untested and juvenile, like his clutchmates. And so, when his dam takes him mentally by the back of his neck, and issues her edict to them all, he does nothing but simply slump and let most of the tension flee his sore body as it finally slides to a halt...now partially immersed in cold lake water. The blue's eyes whirl a raging yellow splotched with bright red as he gaze all about him, his calls of consternation and pain sounding like groans and breathy chuffs upon warm air. It's a good thing that he's only in the shallowest part of the lake when Solith flops down into it, since she's only about twenty feet from the blue...the wave the green creates with her sudden belly-flop cascading over Ilicaeth like a miniature tsunami. Alida finally comes to her own, more cautious halt just before stepping into that sludge of suds and oil that sent her lifemate flying - so-to-speak - her quick but mincing-careful feet picking their way through the litter of bodies to bring her to her blue's side. Instantly, she's running her hands all over him while moving, the blonde's features deeply pinched, her eyes wide with honest fear and her dragon's leftover pain. "'caeth...'caeth..." is chanted like a mantra against the fear that threatens to engulf her.

« I hurt! Owww... Am I okay, 'lida?! » His words are wavering between adult competency and childish panic, and whatever *she* feels will push him one way or the other. (Ilicaeth to Alida)

« You're going to be okay, my life. You're...fine. Listen to me and your mother. Stay calm. You're with us...safe. » For the sake of the other half of her heart, Alida remains in control, as calm as possible. (Alida to Ilicaeth)

Rasavyth remains frozen, hunkered low and still braced from before he reached for the help of his dam. He's compliant to her order, staying absolutely still, barely even breathing. His is a clever mind; the best way out of this for everyone is to halt the chaos, calm the storm, and then untangle the pieces. Rasavyth, though bumped, seems no worse for wear. K'zin? K'zin is not so lucky. It's well documented in the Healer's log book that K'zin's nose has no luck; none at all. If there's an object near it that isn't a pretty girl's nose about to (or already) engaging him in a kiss, K'zin's nose is going to feel it. While Telavi counts as a pretty girl, the back of her head can't possibly be construed as the same thing as her nose. So with a smack that sounds none-too-promising, head meets nose and then there's blood. She'd better get her precious hair out of there fast if she doesn't want to take a bit of K'zin with her! K'zin just lays on the ground, moaning. "Why is it always the nose?" He mumbles to no one in particular. Oh, and where they fell? Well, now K'zin is coated front and back in dragon oil and sand. Gross.

There is little hesitation in her trespass, Rasavyth's mind unbothered by his dam until now. Hraedhyth vaults over the wall, intensity surpassing that which he has felt, but this time she is expected. She understands. Smoke smothers maternal fear, keeping it seperate from minds that would feed on such panic-- all is pushed aside in order to do her duty. (Hraedhyth to Rasavyth)

Hraedhyth does not give an order that she herself would not obey. As they slip and slide the gold does not come any closer. Instead, she paces, bone clubs held high as tension causes dark sails to quiver. Crimson dances in her gaze, oversized jaws parted for the rapid, growling breaths that escape.

Flying... good? Falling bad. Bellyflop worse. Solith's worryingly silent for a long moment, but then her pained creeling becomes audible as she bobs back up to the surface and gets her breath back, unable to really paddle the way she normally would under the queen's tight hold. Tela's clutching her midsection like something's banged into her there, but after completing that roll to the side, ignores her poor injured savior in favor of stumbling towards her dragon. And yes, there's a big red stain on the back of her head, mixed in with all the grit.

The little green struggles, hunting for air, for room to move, to swim, but those struggles are weakening. (Solith to Hraedhyth)

She's experienced some terrible pain a few times in her life, and as such, Alida uses the memory of those times as a kind of 'report' to guide her through the blue's injury assessment, which she conducts both by hand and eye and with her mind. The palest-blonde shares her lifemate's pain as she sinks into his mind enough to ferret out exactly where he's hurting, her eyes distant and muzzy with some unshed tears and concentration devoted elsewhere. The plight of her fellow weyrlings isn't even registering, at this point.

« Alida says I'm okay... But it hurts... owww... » Open and vulnerable, the blue tries to bear up under his pain as well as he can, but his lower jaw is the most sore, followed by his forelegs. His wing and rump are smarting, but their pain is diminishing even as he shares it all with his dam. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth)

To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth reaches out, gathers him up as tongues of flame stroke over the blue's injuries. Their pain. « I know. » More of a soothing rumble than actual words. All will be well.

Azaylia has arrived.

They wouldn't be dragonriders if any of them spared so much as a thought for the other humans in the equation before thinking of their own lifemates. Rasavyth is certainly the least injured of the bunch, bruised here and there, hide a bit scratched up from the oily sand, and a nice bump to the noggin, but he's not spewing pain. But sharing of pain goes two ways, and so Rasavyth's swiftly whirling eyes are anxiously on K'zin and his bloody nose, and split lip as a bonus! K'zin is moving too, though, the moment's shock over and he rolls onto all fours, crawling through the muck to Rasavyth. "Ras. Your head. Are you--?" As K'zin crawls, shirtless, it can be seen that, like Ras, he's got some scrapes from the sandpaper mess they've made.

He's calming down, bearing up as stoically as he can with the pain, the combined influence of both lifemate and dam making Ilicaeth *believe* with all his heart that things will be fine. Still... Ow. Owww. Finally, the irresistable force (the blue) has connected with the immoveable objects (his cluthmates). (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth)

To Solith, Hraedhyth's embrace stretches to include the green, « Careful. » The pressure eases, if only slightly, allowing the stiffest of motions. « Swim. Carefully. » She's watching, she's waiting, but there's no desire to see the little green drown.

There's the force of a queen, and then there's the will to live. And a lifemate's will, besides. Telavi's made it to the water, she's wading in, she's reaching for her dragon's head-- for Solith may be longer than she had been, but she's not massive-- and then simultaneously the queen relents just enough as Telavi tells Solith to put her feet down, already and there they are, pained but alive. Telavi's got her own scrapes here and there, though not nearly as bad as K'zin's, and Solith... right now, Telavi's just working on getting her safely out of the water.

An armful of papers does nothing to slow Azaylia's run-- it just makes it look really awkward. Hraedhyth gives another bellow as her rider nears, quieted by a hand pressing to the queen's front leg. The sight she's met with has the weyrwoman pointing, "Stay. Here." Two breaths needed for such a bellow, reminiscent of her lifemate's own forceful command. In the next instant, she's bolting for the infirmary, arms still laden with the work that was interrupted by all of this.

Now that she has her breath back, has solid ground beneath her, Solith peels the excitement of being airborne mostly out of all that shock and pain and shares it. If there only hadn't been that bothersome landing part... (Solith to Rasavyth)

She's just enough with it on the outside to bark out crisply to the ordering, retreating Azaylia, "Dragonhealers, too!" Alida not taking any chances, since her blue is apparently the most injured. At least Hraedhyth's easing up just enough from her injunction to allow the youngins to get to their feet and such...though Ilicaeth winces and groans in his own draconic fashion as he tries to rise, then walk away from the cool waters. "UH-uh Alida near-instantly clips off in a beyond-firm manner to her lifemate, her own winces echoing his. "Stay in that cold water...it'll keep the swelling down." And for once, the blue doesn't protest this, simply giving in to what he knows is common sense, and settling back down in the water. At this point, the young woman's still in emergency mode, her mind and form functioning on overdrive, though quite smoothly. While remaining at Ilicaeth's side - her hand firmly atop his first 'ridge, those intense, utterly focused green eyes scrape over her fellow weyrlings, the guard finally inquiring with crisp efficiency, "Who else is hurt, and what're the damages?" Well, beyond the obvious busted nose Waki's sporting.

Rasavyth is likely next to have the influence let up; he's on the sand. No immediate danger except the puddle of sludge he's half-in/half-out of. As soon as it eases up, his neck is extending to close the distance between himself and the still crawling K'zin, croon soft in concern. "Not worse than I've had before, Ras. Let's move. Carefully. Slowly." Both of those words are heeded as Rasavyth, in a near belly-crawl (though enough space is allowed as to not cause friction), he backs off the puddle, K'zin following at a crawl. "Any deep cuts?" He queries, one eye having to pinch shut as oil drips down towards it from his drenched hair. "Alright then, into the water with you. No roughhousing." This last has never needed to be said to the bronze before, but after his wholly unexpected playful bout earlier and its rather disastrous end here now, it's worth mentioning. Rasavyth's move to the water is careful, and he sinks in slowly, hissing softly as tender flesh ends up in cold water, until the water has a chance to help numb the pain. K'zin's pushing up onto his feet, a little unsteady. Then there's the choice: take care of the oil that now all over him, or take care of the injuries first. Figuring the healers can't do much with such a dirty mess and the lake is right there, he moves toward it. He's got to keep the oil from getting into his eye, in the very least. His trousers are dropped and he's into the water, with one of the other weyrling witnesses coming over with the floating tray of soapsand they'd been using for their lifemates. It's not as kindly forgiving to human skin as dragon, but it's something to get clean with since oil doesn't like to come off with water alone. He's too involved in the world of his lifemate and himself to think much clearly, or hear Alida's inquiry. But he does have the presence of mind to ask the weyrling who brought him the soap to get a couple of the weyrlings to pile more sand onto the oil on the beach and bury the problem, so no one else experiences traction issues like Ilicaeth. Five and their lifemates set to the task - after all, digging in the sand is kind of fun!

To Solith, Rasavyth's mind is a mirror. But as his attention is sought by the green, his mirror splits in two, a mirror of a mirror. The mirror focused on the contact with the green ripples into a pleasant feeling of sunshine and fresh air. He's interested in what she experienced, exploring any of the sensations shared. « You shall have to tell me more, » He purrs, but then: « Perhaps once we and ours are settled, though, would be best. Is your Telavi hurt, Solith? »

What is less fun is when digging in the sand leads to kicking up more sand across already-scraped hide. Solith hisses, and it may be that sheer unusualness coming from her that has the other weyrlings adjusting their direction and focus with more care, even before Telavi steps in. Which she does, acerbically, until finally all is going well and the greenrider slumps to sit onto the filthy sand, waiting for the healers or dragonhealers or harpers or cooks for all she knows to show up. She does glance after Rasavyth and K'zin, and then at Alida. Solith is stable enough to lean against now, though, so she does."I don't know," she says wearily. "And if you're talking to me, don't snap. I don't like it."

Well, at least both bronze and his rider have their marbles together enough to stay low and get clean, Alida nodding at the pair even if they don't verbally reply, then flicking her clear, deep greens onto the greenpair. For a moment, those cool eyes almost glare at how Telavi responds, but then the blonde remembers how things 'are' in this particular situation, and she simply nods once, then noting to the other female, "You c'n obviously feel how..." insert pained blue dragon offering proper green name here "...Solith's feeling. Feel her pain, if any, 'n locate those areas and the intensity. Be ready ta' report it to the dragonhealers." Yep, the guard's in 'the zone.' A sudden, intense look at the back of the other weyrling's bloody head evokes an intense, "Didja' hit yer head? Any problems with yer vision?" Even as she's assessing, the ex-holder's stroking Ilicaeth's muzzle constantly, keeping her dragon calm and as still as possible as he wallows in chill waters. At this point, she could care less about the sloppy condition her lifemate's oily-sanded hide's in. And soon enough, those folk Azaylia promised are running along, crossing the Bowl as fast as they can while carrying all they need to tend to humans and dragons. As they draw up with cautious feet (apparently they've been warned about the conditions that caused this pile-up), Alida's noting crisply to whoever's in charge the injuries she's noted upon her blue, and the others.

To Ilicaeth, Rasavyth's mind sends a cool, soothing breeze, sand caught in it gentle - the sloughing kind, not the kind that has so recently injured them. « Mine wishes to know if you and yours are hurt? » Though Alida was not in the fray, it is worth asking, according to the bronze's lifemate. « Is there anything we can do to help? » The thoughts are comforting, all of Ilicaeth's favorite images to project that Rasavyth has seen reflected back to him.

What does the mirror truly mirror, when there's nothing to see? Still, the ambiance is familiar enough, welcome, that Solith answers freely. « I would! I will, I would be happy to, Rasavyth. » Quieter, « She is refusing to think about that. » Perhaps the smaller dragon is unaccustomed to deliving directly? And then, from that insubstantial nothingness that is the manifestation of the green herself, a misty object forms as through from condensation on invisible glass: a hand mirror that reflects what he shows her, not so much darkly as in a still-blurry haze. Mirror reflecting mirrors reflecting mirror reflecting mirrors, over and over and closer and closer and blurrier and blurrier... until abruptly it disappears, as though wiped clean. (Solith to Rasavyth)

For once, the blue's not cautious of his bronze brother, the sore and stiff little dragon rumbling his pain and acknowledgement to Rasavyth. « Alida isn't; I am, but not badly. » Here, feel a small echo of the blue's pain, and be a bro, Ras. « She says she thinks I strained the muscles in my forelegs a little when I fell...and I hit my chin kinda hard on the stone, too. » His other, fading pains in haunch and wing barely even register, now. « Thanks for asking after us, brother. How are you and your K'zin? » (Ilicaeth to Rasavyth)

K'zin's making busy with the soapsand, getting it out of his hair and his eyes. There was mention that entering this month of training there might be more of a team-ly feel to everything. This does seem to be true, to at least some extent. A pair of weyrlings have moved to Ras to try to give him a scrub, "Careful with his head, and thanks," is K'zin's only direction to them, sincerity in his voice. Then there's the matter of his back. "Hey, Tela?" Beat, "Or Alida?" His tone was hesitant in calling the first name, and might sound just a little scared at the second when the request is: "Would one of you soap my back for me? I don't want to-- make it worse. It being the sand and the oil and the scratches. Thankfully, with the soapsand being a little harsher to human skin, it's also better at cutting the oil faster. The cold of the water has helped to close the busted bits of his nose that were gushing blood, and now it's just a slow trickle from his nostrils. He's had a banged up nose before and knows that's not the danger. Rest assured, Rasavyth's attention is more than just casual. He's keeping damn sure that K'zin doesn't get dizzy and do something dumb, like passing out in the water. Then all the healers are arriving and after a rinse the bronze is making his way to his lifemate. K'zin is left soapsand in one hand, and looking perplexed. Does he stay and get his back washed? Does he go to the healers?

Telavi may or may not be taking in all of what Alida has to say, but she's not arguing, so it's liable to have helped. She keeps sitting, anyway, letting those running people draw up around them, not moving off and not making things worse. After a little while, she reaches up, and Solith whuffles at her hand. Tela also may or may not have taken in all of what K'zin had to say, but she can say, "Later," easily enough. 'Later' for something, anyway: they all shouldn't hold their breath. It would be easy for Alida, or a healer, or a cook, or a drudge, or even Jo to help him first. She's got answers to give to the dragonhealer, before that, lots of questions to try and translate, taking longer than really it should. Longer than it would, if Solith had gotten into more scrapes earlier, if they had gotten used to having to explain instead of floating along.

Though she's fiercely protective of Ilicaeth, Alida can't get near the blue right now, given the small swarm of dragonhealers that descend upon him like locusts, the blonde simply noting to the experts, "I'll be close by; he isn't panicy 'r fussy." Beat. "Stay still until I say otherwise, sugarbeet..." is murmured to the occasionally huffing Ilicaeth, who then croons to his lifemate before stilling. Note that his gaze never leaves her, though, even as she steps smartly out towards K'zin, and finally dumps that soapsand into her palms, wetting it and applying the scrub lightly to his back. She's relieved to have something physical to do to keep her alert and burn off some energy, since the guard is so tightly strung, right now. While attending Waki, those intense greens are scoping out everything around her, all the people and dragons and going's-on kept track of.

K'zin's skin flexes in uninstructed movements that indicate his discomfort when Alida goes over some of the deeper scrapes (no matter how gentle she might be being, that stings!). His face is almost comedic in its shifts from determined (not to cry out) and the flinches of pain. There's an occasional catch of his breath that coincides with the flinching. For the most part he stays still. One of the dragonhealers is waiting patiently on the beach for Rasavyth. "Ras, go let them check you out. I'll be fiph." That last comes out garbled because he's finally put a hand to pinch gently on his nose to try to stem the rest of the bleeding. "Afeda won let me dran." He hopes, anyway. The nock to his head? It could mean a concussion for the weyrling as well as the bronze.

Over in Solith's end of things, which admittedly isn't as far as all that, there are more questions. More answers, not all of which pass muster. More fussiness, or at least the beginnings of it, from girl and green. There are palpitations of her wings, there are notes made of this scrape of that, there is cleaning that makes Solith wince and numbweed and all sorts of things. Here and there, Tela's gaze has drifted to Alida, who works with such energy and efficiency, to K'zin and his slight contortions who has to go through it, back to Azaylia and thence to Solith. Finally, "Are we done? Please let us be done."

Count on a doctor (or Healer, in this case) to go to the emergency, and after de-shoeing himself and rolling up his pants some, the expert moves out to K'zin as he stands in the water, the Healer beginning his triage and assessment of the bronzerider and all his ills. And Alida? She just (rather gently, perhaps surprisingly) attends to carefully scrubbing at the young man's back to try and clear it of gunk so that the Healer can move there after he done with the worst of Waki's injuries. A few moments here and there are given more to asking Ilicaeth to shift or move when the Dragonhealers want him to, the blonde giving a couple of grunts or winces when she cannot help but share his pain. He too, like Solaith, gets prodded and petted, numbweeded and peered at, but with more vigor, until they've done all they can, and are finally looking towards Alida, and asking her to coax him out of the water.

Once the healer is done assessing, K'zin's directed to wade out of the waist deep water. He's weyrbred, and all that. There's a reason he wasn't wearing pants to bathe Ras earlier, but now? Now it's like there's an audience. And this water is cold. With crimson cheeks (matching that ruby trail from his nostrils), K'zin puts his shoulders back to stride out of the lake with purpose. His purpose? To steal the towel of one of the other weyrlings. They surely won't mind if it makes K'zin a little less inappropriately attired. The towel works out for the best as it's pulled around his waist because then the healer is checking over the wide thick bruise appearing on K'zin's upper thigh. He definitely took a wallop there. With worry for concussion for both bronze and rider, enough numbweed is applied to get them comfortable, but they're in for a night at the infirmary, and K'zin needs to get his nose sorted, in any case. A concerned glance over his shoulder towards the others involved in this pandemonius incident is all he's given the chance for before he's herded off by a pair of healers, a dragonhealer walking beside Rasavyth. To the infirmary with them! Will any others follow? Who knows.

There may be an audience, but would he feel better to know that it's not currently an exciting display? Or at least, Telavi, who is watching, doesn't seem particularly impressed. Disappointed, possibly. Or maybe that's just lingering malaise from earlier. Or for effect. When she lifts her gaze to try and catch Alida's, though, it's with the first actual smile she's had since the crash. Not that it lasts beyond her wincing stretch, after which she uses Solith's side to help herself up. The green, though she's glanced after the departing pair, is at the moment focused far more on Ilicaeth and his reappearance from the water. She watches very carefully, still crouched, her wings furled even more guardedly athan usual. So they wait, until all appears well if it does appear well, and Telavi's just started to accompany Solith off to the barracks when... one of the healers spots the drying blood in hair, and she's hauled off to the infirmary despite her protests instead. Of course.

As for Alida and Ilicaeth? *She's* fine, but *he's* not. With their typical fussing and clucking, the Dragonhealers finally accompany the numbweed-relieved blue along to their part of the healing complex, his gaze muting back towards lavender now that he's out of pain. One of the blonde's arms is lightly slung over her lifemate's shoulders, soft words of encouragement and love offered to him as the pair move at a sedate pace towards their own overnight goal. What a day...to be further compounded when Ilicaeth remembers that he hasn't had his proper bath and oiling. Oh gadZOOKS!

Oh, and btw, Alida totally saw Waki's ass before he covered himself. Horrors!