Logs:After Hraedhyth and Cadejoth's Eggs Hatch
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| RL Date: 18 July, 2014 |
| Who: Cezveth, Evanthe, G'laer, G'var, Jadzia, Savroveth, Teisyth, Zvaraseth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: New weyrlings after the hatching. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr Tucked off the back of the training room, the barracks are a huge, high cavern that stretches far back into the stone of the Weyr. Both of the longer walls are lined with couches for the dragons, enough for a couple of Pass-sized clutches at once, each matched with a cot and press for the weyrling dragonrider. In this day and age, however, the couches in the back have been allowed to grow dusty with long disuse. Hearths are spaced between every few couches to heat the big room. For decoration, there are a number of tapestries on the walls, looking almost as beat-up as the couches out in the training room, but scattered flower pots with their bright blooming contents provide a cheery touch. Additionally, some of the couches have had graffiti scratched into them over the Turns that were never quite cleaned off: smears of chalk messages or even rough pictures, some not fit for young eyes. In many cases names and dates have been painstakingly carved into the rock, a record of those that once made their home here.
Savroveth has slowed down his eating by now, belly more comfortably full while he's doing that sort of half conscious picking at a piece of meat that only babies can truly pull off. Jadzia is oiling his hide, which isn't helping with the awake thing very much, and she's still looking a little dazed by... well, this whole experience, evidently. The sound of G'laer's voice, rather the sound of G'laer saying her name, makes Jadzia glance the greenrider's way for just a second before her attention is back on the hatchling. "No, sir." G'laer is exercising a certain amount of caution in speaking to this particular weyrling; it wouldn't do to rile up a less than hour old dragonet his first night on his trial period. So he simply tilts his head in that way he has of nodding, "Let me or one of the others know if you do." Simple. He starts to step away, but then thinks to say, "Teisyth is very pleased for you." And less dangerously, "Once he's asleep, if you want a bath or to get your things from the candidate quarters and stop in at the feast to be congratulated, it's a good time to do it. Just be ready to come back at a moment's notice." It's almost meditative, the way that Jadzia smooths oil over that newly hatched hide with her bare hands. Savroveth's eyelids are drooping and he has a shred of meat hanging from his teeth, so he's apparently not very worked up at all at the moment. "Tell her I said thank you?" asks Jadzia. She's certainly not used to the idea that she now has one of those things that could tell Teisyth that very thing. "Thank you, sir," she says to the greenrider, too. But for the other stuff he says instead of Teisyth's pleasedness. "I will. She'll be excited to talk to him tomorrow. It's all I can do to keep her from bothering him now." Is that a smile that briefly breaks through the so-neutral expression G'laer is wearing for just a moment? It is. It really is. It's most definitely Teisyth's fault though. Her excitement is palpable even when she's not directly touching any of the young minds inside the barracks. She's been banished to the bowl, because proximity just makes it worse. See, Quinlys? They're being very good On Trial But Not Really Assistants. "If I were you," unsolicited advice alert, "I'd also try to get some sleep. Teisyth didn't let me sleep much those early days." Jadzia glances back at G'laer in time to see that smile. Which is apparently almost as weird as all of this other stuff has been. Her eyes narrow slightly, but then her attention is snapping back to Savroveth when his head dips down enough to thump his muzzle, and the meat hanging out of his teeth, against the ground. « I'm awake! » he assures everyone quickly. No one else was trying to sleep, were they? Jadzia wipes her oiled hands on her robe and reaches for the meat hanging out of his mouth as she says to G'laer, "I'm sure we'll manage, thank you. If you could do this, there's no reason I'll have any trouble with it." Which might not be entirely relevant to the advice, granted. "He's asleep." The words come with a sort of breathless disbelief, as Evanthe eases away from her... her... lifemate. Her small, twisted little lifemate, from whom she cannot tear her gaze away. She sits, an oil pot in hand from having been rubbing it in to Zvaraseth's hide, and she just... stares. "He's asleep." It's not meant for anyone in particular. Just an audible observation, and about the level of complexity she's capable of at the moment. That Savroveth talked to her (okay, and everyone) first has to mean it's okay to talk to him, right??? But no, G'laer isn't loosening his mental leash and letting Teisyth bring her excitement to disturb sleeping dragons. "I'm sure you will." G'laer agrees this much with Jadzia, although it looks like there's a 'but' he doesn't say. Conveniently, Evanthe has spoken which allows the stony-faced greenrider to turn his attention toward her. He crosses the short distance with a towel in hand that he got from the pile, for her hands, offering it to the girl. "Need anything, weyrling Evanthe?" Jadzia sets the meat aside and draws Savroveth's head toward her as she settles down next to him. A glance is spared G'laer as he turns his attention to Evanthe, and Jadzia lets herself look at the other brown for a moment before her own brown lifting his head toward her face has her attention back on him. She scoops out a handful of oil so she can rub it over every inch of Savroveth's head, headknobs, chin and neck. He's properly passed out long before she gets very far, but she'll finish before she tries slipping away to tend to other things. Evanthe blinks a few times, clearing her eyes enough to rip her gaze away from the sleeping brown to look up at G'laer. She runs a hand back through her hair, a rather helpless gesture - unfortunately taken before she recognizes the towel. No matter, she doesn't realize it. A thanks is murmured as she takes the towel to wipe her hands and arms. "He's..." she begins, then hesitates, shooting a glance back at her - her - dragon. "He looks..." But the dragon shifts in his sleep, her expression softens, and she can't quite ask the question. "No sir. I think we're good." G'var is here too. Uncharacteristically quiet as he tends the bronze that has claimed him, his mind well occupied by another's thoughts now - most of them of food and oil and sleep, though that saved for the last. The brutish looking bronze has finally settled, leaving a normally stoic Geviaur as a somewhat dazed G'var. His claimed place is somewhere between Jadzia and Evanthe, and it's the former he speaks to, pitching his voice low so as not to rouse any of the now slumbering hatchlings. "Hey Istan," he says. "Congratulations." G'laer isn't the squishy weyrlingmaster's assistant. Technically, he doesn't even have the knot of the assistant. He's on trial. And trying very hard. Still, that doesn't sway his natural nature. To be candid. "He's deformed." He looks to the brown in question, "But he was strong enough to make it out of the shell, so that's something, isn't it." Maybe this is meant to be comforting? He looks toward G'var a moment and his bronze before returning his gaze to Evanthe. "Now that he's asleep, you may wish to take a bath or get your things. Or sleep. It may be some time before you do any of those things again," he advises without emotion or sympathy. Her nickname doesn't immediately draw her attention because, well, she's not really from Ista and one's mind being invaded is kind of distraction. Even if the invader is asleep. But Jadzia glances over at G'var once it actually processes and she offers a smile to the new bronzerider. "Thanks. You, too, Muscles," she returns softly with a glance to the bronze. It's a blunt response that makes Evanthe blink, but without any particular shock, or hurt accompanying it. Stark words, maybe what she needs. She nods slowly, rubbing a hand thoughtfully over her face. "That is something," she agrees softly. "Does this... does it happen often?" Not something you hear much about. Then the suggestions, so practical, break her reverie and she nods, reluctantly picking herself up and away from Zvar - slowly, as though she may jar him awake, though he's clearly soundly asleep. "Yes sir. Thank you." Is G'laer aware of the exchange between G'var and Jadzia? Almost certainly, but his focus appears to be on Evanthe. His expression has changed little from the neutral-but-serious that is his near-constant one, but now it might be perceived as grim because of his words. "No." Simple. "The dragonhealers will, no doubt, descend upon you both soon enough to sort what exactly the nature of his deformity is, and what can be done for him." As though he's not perfect as is. "You are permitted to stop in the hatching feast, too, if you like. To receive your accolades from those that watched you Impress, or visit family. But be ready to be back should he need you." And certainly she'll know if he does. G'var returns the smile, a slow crooked thing for the new brownrider - and wider still for his own lifemate, as he looks back to the bronze. A firm, gentle hand is applied, stroked down that well oiled neck and there's an unmistakable pride on the man's face. Congratulations indeed. Then his gaze lifts to Evanthe, and he'll give her her due as well, no matter the shape of her dragon. "You too, Little Bit. Won't your mom be proud." There's a note of joking in his voice, obviously. The bronze is soundly asleep now, and G'var stands, stretching tall - and at G'laer's suggestions for how to use their time, which Gev listens to attentively, he'll offer the semi-Assistant Weyrlingmaster a question. "How long do they generally sleep for? How much time can we hope to get?" Once she's done with Savroveth's head, the way Jadzia slowly extricates herself from underneath it is very careful so as not to reawaken the passed out hatchling. But that doesn't seem to be anything she needs to worry about. He's well and truly unconscious. As Jadzia stands, she glances at Evanthe, but it's an awkward, almost pitying smile that she offers rather than the standard congratulations. And then, to no one in particular, "I'm going to do some things while he's asleep." And off she goes without waiting for answers to questions that might be useful to her even if she didn't ask them. Well, that's a clear answer. Evanthe wasn't really expecting a different one, only a confirmation of her own suspicions, and she receives it with her own faint grimness. "Right, then," she says, with a note of distaste - healers, pokings, proddings. Already she knows this will not suit the little brown at all. "He'll be fine." Already a note of stubbornness in her voice, and no one's said a thing to her about Zvaraseth yet. This will go well. The newly impressed bronzerider's words catch her ear and she rolls her eyes, turning to look his way. "Stuff it, you mountain," she says. You know, in a friendly way. "That remains to be seen." Because that's the kind of encouragement Evanthe needs right now, right? G'laer then shifts to half-face G'var, even as his eyes flick briefly to follow Jadzia and back. "It varies from dragon to dragon, but generally this period is one of the best chunks you'll get since they're exhausted from fighting their way out of the shell. It'll likely be hunger or itchiness that wakes them, unless you do something stupid like drink or have sex; that's likely to wake them too. Which is why it's against the rules." Just putting that out there. G'var just winks at Evanthe, letting the obvious affection just wash over him. Given that time is limited, now that he has the answers to his questions, he'll do as Jadzia does. "Guess I'll get my things and check out the party," he says, tossing a casual salute G'laer's way. "Though seems like the best parts of a party are off the table now." Such a shame. He heads out, with the bronze slumbering peacefully behind. Evanthe isn't one to take kindly to that sort of response - G'laer's, mind, not G'var's. She straightens a little, a furrow appearing on her brow. The man may just be honest - is just being honest - but despite her own concerns she can't help a fainty sharp reply. "He will." Stubbornly said, and she reaches a hand out for her dragon - palm falling right on that misshapen area of his wings and spine. G'var's leaving gets a hesitant look, but she still doesn't quite make to leave, even though most of the other weyrlings have. "Guess I'll have a bath," she says uncertainly. She does have oil in her hair after all. "And sleep. Don't really want to see... people." G'laer looks oh-so-convinced. And does Evanthe see that rainbow blossoming out of nowhere? That's how convinced. He doesn't linger though, "If you need something, speak up. We'll be here all night." Presumably he means the assistants, among whom he counts himself even if he's not technically. "And ask questions." That's his other pearl of wisdom for her. And Quinlys is just going to love the last one: "Don't be stupid about anything. Get help when you need it. None of us knew how to do this right from the start." Maybe the last makes the first bit better. Maybe not. In any case, he's here, but not the type to hover, so he's starting to move off a distance, probably intending to help clean up the mess made by ten ravenous dragons and their inexperienced lifemates. Oil and blood everywhere, hooray! Stubborn, blunt, and suspicious she may be - stupid, Evanthe usually isn't. So despite bristling for a moment there, the rest of G'laer's words are listened to with thoughtful silence. There may even be a touch of gratitude in her look up at the man. "So, finally it'll be acceptable to inept and clueless?" she says wryly. "Looks like I'm in the right place." As G'laer moves away she spends a few more minutes looking at her dragon. Her dragon. Despite his malformation, or perhaps because of it, he is a wonder to behold. Finally she sighs and goes to do as she says - bath and bed, then whatever the future brings. |
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