Difference between revisions of "Logs:Big and Small"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

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.

Some lectures are boring. Today's, however, promises to have some entertainment value. It's not so much that the topic of how to put straps on one's dragon is interesting, as the way the dragons react to the practical application. Divided into pairs, the weyrlings are to get their straps onto their dragons while they circulate between the pairs. It's an individual task, but divided into pairs at least they have access to another set of hands if they need it. G'laer is, as is typical, trying to do it on his own. Won't he have to later anyway? "Crackdust." He swears as one of the straps tangles with another. He doesn't even have them anywhere near Teisyth yet, just hefting them is proving to be problematic.

A'rist has figured out enough by now to know that when Lythronath is looking at things in that way, it's best to just let him look. This is why A'rist is (and has been for some time) simply holding the straps up to Lythronath's nose - but holding them in a stance that allows for no questioning, shoulders square, legs shoulder-width apart, and eye contact consistent. Lythronath is staring right back at his rider while breathing in, breathing out. So while G'laer's curse gets a wry grin from A'rist (just next door, you know how Lythronath and Teisyth are), there's no words just yet. He's busy.

G'laer, by comparison to other weyrlings, probably does well around Lythronath. It probably helps that his natural state of carrying himself is with composure and quiet but unmistakable confidence. He doesn't turn his back on the bronze when he's aware of his presence, and with him so neighborly, the older man has positioned himself so Teisyth is next to the bronze. Occasionally, though it's probably quite by accident her tail casts to the side and brushes against the bronze's, the hook of it not having found purchase there yet. Teisyth is interested in the straps, and more importantly, how funny G'laer looks as he tries to shift them and shake them, ending up with several strands around his shoulders and upper back while he tries to detangle with too few hands to really do the job. Maybe they should have taken turns.

Probably, they should have. Lythronath, at least, doesn't much seem to mind Teisyth's occasional brushes, though he doesn't go out of his way to return them. He, too, is busy, sniffing, staring. Finally, a decision is reached, signaled with a heavy scratch to the ground by his back right leg, leaving talon trails. « Tight, » the bronze decides. He also snorts all over those leather straps in A'rist's hands. The boy has been around this particular dragon long enough not to even flinch.

« Snug as a bug in a rug. » Teisyth agrees, though she's further off from getting to feel that snugness since G'laer's one-man showmanship is making the tangles worse and not better. He better count his lucky stars that he happened to be born male and never had to mess with things like braids. It might've been noted that he seems to have similar tangling issues with the thick threads used on the practice straps the tanners have been instructing them on making. The green turns her head and lets it come lolling toward the bronze pairing, obnoxiously involved, « Betcha you could fit two of me into those. You're all big and stuff. » She observes cheerfully.

Lythronath rolls his shoulders, stretches his legs, spreads his wings. Staring at the straps in A'rist's arms: « Small. » A'rist simply flicks his wrists, and a few loops open and fall. He's probably trying to show how not-small the straps are, how carefully they were crafted, how perfectly sized. Whatever it is, Lythronath ignores it in favour of swinging his big head over toward Teisyth. And then G'laer. « Hahaha! »

« Oh, c'mon now. Everything looks small to you. If you don't stop gettin' bigger, soon the whole world's gonna just be tiny little trundlebugs. » Teisyth's mind doesn't often carry images, but now she provides one that shows Lythronath grown so large that he takes up the entire bowl and the lake barely covers the talons of one of his hind paws. It's cartoonish and childish, but she enjoys it. That paired with the bronze's amusement at her rider has her guffawing. « If he'd just put 'em on the ground, he could straighten 'em out. Or your A'rist could help him. Only he won't ask. He's so stubborn. » It's affectionately said, of course as the green rattles on to her big brother in the way she's want to do, not seeming to mind (or perhaps even notice) the limited responses. Or maybe she just takes a lot more meaning from the simple words.

« Squish. » Lythronath is pleased, enough so that Teisyth receives a mighty whack from the bronze's long tail. That big head swings back to look at A'rist, and then returns once more to G'laer and his predicament. Back again. Returned again. And Lythronath's decision is, « Or watch. » A'rist, however, now that Lythronath's looked away (repeatedly), does manage a quick look over to G'laer. It makes him press his teeth together.

« Now what would you want to go around squishin' things for anyway? Then they'd be all flat. » And that's clearly not as interesting as when things are in technicolor and 3-D. She repaints the image in dreary white and like it was on the page of one of G'laer's boring, but not as boring as without pictures, books. She yawns, letting her wherry-breath waft right at the bronze's face. Take that, tail thwacker. It doesn't really seem like G'laer's making progress and the assistant is only two pairs over. Probably because asking A'rist is the lesser evil when compared with being embarrassingly behind the rest, G'laer finally does ask. "Will you lose your hand if you lend me one? They just keep tangling." Sharding stupid straps. Exasperation actually reaches G'laer's voice and face together. Which only makes him look a little sillier.

« Get flat, » Lythronath corrects. And when Teisyth opens her mouth, he snorts his own hot air right back into it. Whether or not he minds her breath will have to remain a mystery, because he is pleased with his counter, and so he thwacks her with his tail again, and makes a few happy stomps. "Only thing," A'rist answers G'laer, taking a step forward because, go figure, his dragon has moved in all of this, "is I gotta do his first or else I gotta stare him down all over again."

Well, the hot air return has Teisyth coughing. You know, sending that hot air right back to the bronze. At least they're not exchanging tail blows. Yet. Teisyth's tail does twitch, however. It's not promising. "That's--" G'laer starts to answer and then jerks his eyes to the green. "No." Flat. Firm. See? Flat's no fun at all. Teisyth sulks, her head ducking down along with the rest of her as she flattens herself to the ground. No fun at all. She was just going to thwap him back a little! To A'rist, "That's fine." Beat. "Thanks."

A'rist gives G'laer the short, quick nod of someone who's really concentrating on something else, and takes another step up to the dragon who'd started wheeze-breathing back at his green sister not half a moment before. Lythronath isn't so involved as not to notice his rider's approach, and looks back, daring. It's when he's distracted in delivering another thwap to Teisyth that A'rist tries to toss one of the loops over the bronze's head. Which of course means sidestepping. Into Teisyth, obviously. Who else? « Small! » This is going well.

« Get 'im! » Teisyth encourages A'rist. The thought doesn't go A'rist directly, of course. She's polite enough for that not to be a worry. But the way she shifts to give A'rist good back support and maybe a little nudge back toward the bronze is surely going to be helpful, right? In the meantime, while G'laer is so carefully watching the bronze and his rider and what's going on with Teisyth's front end, her tail leaps out to return fire.

"Stop being stupid," doesn't go much of anywhere with the bronze, and for a moment, there's growling and clicking and a few abortive head bobs from Lythronath, and a sincerely frustrated look from A'rist. It's a while, and probably a few repositionings, before they both settle. And while that first bit might have been entertaining on some level, G'laer gets to watch and wait until, by sheer force of, 'yes', A'rist manages to get that first loop done. Finally, finally, "Can I toss a strap over his back to you?"

Teisyth endeavors to be more helpful to the process as it goes on. She doesn't even bet Lythronath that he could keep his head out of the loop if he wanted, or anything! G'laer glances to the straps he never bothered to put down. They're already a mess so he simply shrugs the ones off his shoulder and lets them fall in a pile around him, before stepping toward Lythronath. He doesn't approach head-on, but rather along the side, the way one would with a canine, with the intention of having it not seen as a challenge. "Yeah." Simple. He's ready to receive.

Lythronath's not quite a canine, though, and he pins a hard glare on G'laer, the previous Rebellion of the Straps seemingly forgotten in place of this new intruder into his personal bubble. A'rist tosses the side without buckles for G'laer, and when Lythronath scrapes with the front claw nearest the greenrider, asks, "Teisyth?" without much thinking of whatever impropriety there may be in calling on another's dragon for assistance, least of all when that other is right there. « Close. »

« He don't snuggle. Yer safe. » Teisyth offers her assistance helpfully. It's more than just the words though, there's a certain soothing quality to her mind now. There's a sound that repeats, a sound that feels familiar somehow (or is meant to) even if Lythronath has never heard it before. Rhythmic, calming, even if it sounds akin to a rusty hinge caught in a gentle country breeze. « You can sniff him if you want, but he bathed this mornin' so he don't smell as good as if he hadn't. » Go figure that Teisyth likes 'em dirty. G'laer moves carefully, and really only so much as Teisyth deems wise. In this, he takes her advice. He doesn't catch the buckle because catching is too sudden a move, instead he waits for it to arrive and then slowly, but certainly, moves a hand to grasp it.

The bronze doesn't necessarily make it easy for G'laer to help out, turning partways in to keep at least one eye on that greenrider at all times. Even though he's now and again clawing at the ground, A'rist doesn't much seem to mind, ducking under his dragon's belly, and, once ready, saying, "Okay, pass that to me." Easy as pie? « Squish, » at least doesn't sound overly serious. Even if the bronze still has his eyes on G'laer.

Rather than bend and reach to pass the strap, G'laer sinks low. It's not so far as a crouch, but something more akin to a lunge as he leans carefully to hand over the strap. Teisyth's tail pokes at Lynner's rump. « You squish mine, I squish yours. » It's playfully fierce, but there's truth enough behind it. G'laer is under her protection; that's just how it goes. « Maybe I'll even get someone bigger'n us to squish you. Ma, maybe. » She contemplates and as she does cartoon images of Lythronath being leaned on and slowly compressed down to the ground by a gold dragon in a cooking apron begin to doodle themselves.

« Fast A'rist, » Lythronath answers, with all the certainty of one who knows from experience. « Big, » Lythronath reminds Teisyth, and that with a stretch of his wings while he swings his head to take in the whole bowl. A'rist, under the dragon, nods thanks, buckles. "You can step away," comes just as he's disappearing. A few more buckles, and then, straps! Reason for Lythronath to step away from Teisyth and start stretching and kicking every which way. Trial period.

« Bigger. » Teisyth points out, flexing her bulk. She's no dainty green, and even a growing dainty-green outweighs any of their fragile lifemates. « An' he cain't run ferever. » This is said with exaggeratedly dark certainty. She even adds « Muwahahahahahahahaha. » For effect. Because, you know, she's scary and stuff. G'laer, in the meantime, has taken his cue from A'rist and stepped away, not turning his back on the bronze, of course, and to the mess of his straps. Since the bronze is distracted with the testing, he crouches and starts untangling the mess. It's easier when he's not holding them.

A'rist lets Lythronath get himself well out of the way (and, oh look, forcing some blue to get out of his way in turn) before he makes his way over to G'laer. "Thanks." And then, with a grimace, "Sorry it took long, I was... thinking about it too much." He, too, crouches down, reaching to tap at a bit of tangled strap, but not actually taking hold just yet. "What do you need?" Once Lythronath has cleared his (new) space, Teisyth gets a little noise from his throat. « Small. »

G'laer glances toward Lythronath briefly before looking back to his rider. "It might get easier. Not him, just you getting used to how to approach him." It's not a suggestion that bolsters much hope, but at least it's not a comforting lie. "I think just to get things untangled. And then to hope she doesn't wiggle too much." « I'll show you small. » Teisyth declares, pushing herself up and spreading her wings and becoming just as big as she possibly can be. Which is still not as big as Lythronath. But. You know, she's trying.

A'rist sidles a bit closer to G'laer, offering up a little nod as excuse for too much proximity (Lythronath can sympathise), so that he can start near the same tangle. He does start trying to work his way away from the other rider, though. "Sometimes," is mused as he goes, "it's too easy, that approach." Lythronath, meanwhile, does his best trick, that of standing up on his hind legs (wings out for balance), and makes a show of looking down, waaaay down at Teisyth. « Show. »

« Off. » Teisyth dovetails his word without any space between his word and her own. If it weren't for two different voices, they might as well be one idea. Of course, it's the kettle talking to the pot. Then her tongue lolls out of her mouth. Neener neener! This is surely a gesture she learned from someone who is definitely not G'laer. "Is it?" Too easy, G'laer queries as his fingers work passing one strap under and the other over. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the proximity. Aware? Certainly, but bothered? Eh. Being bothered would probably take too much effort. Ghena's not the only one in his family who can be lazy, see.

Lythronath tries to take a few steps toward her, but overbalances, and finds himself back on all fours, loop clapping against his side. "Sure. No thinking or talking, all just doing and willing. It gets real easy to stop being a person." The boy's got darkly knit brows by the end of that. And has succeeded in at least some untangling, also. Another little hop from Lythrnath finds that one bit of strap slapping him again. « Loose, » is pointed at A'rist, but audible to Teisyth.

"Mm." The sound is understanding, "Feeling inhuman is problematic." To put it lightly. Sometimes the timing of things comes together just right, even if the results aren't ideal. With Lythronath needing attention (whether that was a request or just a note) to his straps, and G'laer still untangling, J'vain arrives in time to relieve A'rist of the helping hand position, even if the older man has only one hand to replace A'rist's two. Between he and G'laer, though, they get it sorted out and with step-by-step coaching and a cooperative dragon, G'laer even manages to put them on her by himself. Not that it's easy, anyway, but firsts seldom are.