Logs:A Tale Of Firsts
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| RL Date: 5 April, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hraedhyth, N'ky, Cailluneth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hraedhyth cheers Cailluneth on during her first hunt. Azaylia tries to help N'ky cope with the same. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 6, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
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| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. Rukbat has blessed the Weyr with more light and warmth than some may remember, certainly little dragons who have yet to know what summer is. It's when the sun begins its slow descent that Hraedhyth decides she's had enough, tawny hide carrying with heat earned from sunning herself for hours. The gold takes to the air to avoid most of the bowl's traffic only to land a short ways outside the feeding pens, which has to confuse the poor beasts within. It isn't the main structure, but the one with the old creatures waiting to be culled that draws Hraedhyth near. Once she's settled on her belly, her pale head is placed on the ground as the queen lays in wait. Today is a day that Cailluneth has been desperately waiting for, and the tubby green bounds ahead of N'ky as they head to the feeding grounds. She runs ahead, stops, turns to look for him, waits for him to catch up, then runs on again - until Hraedhyth. With a gleeful growl that turns into something like a happy howl, she greets the gold from a distance and makes her intentions to hunt oh so clear. N'ky calls her to his side as they approach the fence, dipping his head with nervous politeness to his lifemate's dam as he leans against the side, not quite confident with letting his over-eager little girl in with such seemingly huge beasts. For her part, Cailluneth is chomping at the metaphorical bit, rearing up to rest her forepaws on the top run of the fence (she's that big now!) and... making a scrabble-hop over it. "Cailluneth!" The graceless fall onto the other side leaves her unhurt, but it's got the job done: she's in the pen, she's with the herdbeasts, and she hunkers low, a growl reverberating from her throat. Hot hot hot - Cailluneth's colours are aflame, curling excitedly towards her dam and liberally laced with the eager anticipation that she's kept not-so-tightly bottled up for so long - her whole life! Erratic starbursts of gold and orange colour a chili-hot red background, whirling too fast as the terrified heartbeats of so many herdbeasts throw her off, distract her, fill her head and her heart and her soul with their need to have their crimson hot blood spilt into her waiting silver maw. (Cailluneth to Hraedhyth) Oh? What is this? Just as the queen's second lids begin to lower during her lengthy wait, there's movement. Cailluneth's greeting has that large head lifting, a deep rumble in Hraedhyth's throat turning into a full bellow that sends the animals in the pen into a fearful frenzy. N'ky earns just as much of the gold's attention, watching the two as if they are one. Muscles tense as the green rolls herself over the fence, prompting dam to rise and take a few steps closer-- just to get a better seat. She's much closer to the weyrling now, settling back onto her stomach and watching with a calm gaze. There's a thunderous cheer that reveals just how excited the otherwise still queen is. YES. HUNT. BLOOD. Her nightmarish troops are worked up into a frenzy, drums pounding fast and hard as she feeds off of the green's enthusiasm. Contralto rasps with crackling flame, not struggling for surprisingly calm words to be heard, « To become too excited leaves room for mistakes. » Taking her own advice, her energetic thoughts begin to quiet, not wanting to give away their position. Shhh. Focus. (Hraedhyth to Cailluneth) "H-hraedhyth." N'ky greets the gold distractedly, because, well, Cailluneth is in the pen with a herd of frenzied old herdbeasts and he's worried. His fingers grip the upper rung of the fence with white-knuckle tightness, body tensed and ready to spring over should he have to. For all he's tensed and anxious, Cailluneth looks in her element. She crows happily, spreading her wings to scare the beasts into more of a panic, her eyes whirling with blue excitement and huntress red. Her head whips back and forth as she identifies her prey, and then she stalks. Forward, low, slinking; not that it makes a difference to the creatures that know she's there and can see her coming. She lunges, taking a play-swipe at the nearest herdbeast and grazing its flank, letting it slip away through her talons with the rending of its flesh. The blood on her paw fascinates her, and she drops her muzzle down to flick her tongue between her toes, tasting it; and that's all the fuel she needs to lunge again - toying with her food-to-be as she purposely avoids a strike that instinct tells her will kill. To Hraedhyth, Cailluneth's whirl of colour becomes fierce, her heartbeat a staccato rhythm of excitement wound around her dam's drums. Calm? No, not so much, but thoughtful? Yes. She may be new to this, but she knows, as her thoughts and actions make clear. She knows, and yet... she doesn't follow, giving in to the babyish instinct to play. Her moonlight pale and calm are tucked away, fire and flame in its place, certainty and bloodlust instead of coolness and peace. No mistakes. Calculated movements. The huntress, awakened, and all too thrilled in sharing the taste of her first blood, presented in a whirl of golden, shimmering bliss. A growl sounds right after N'ky greets her by name, possibly returning the favor. Or it could be due to Cailluneth's successful strike, even if she doesn't actually bring the beast down. Hraedhyth stirs only after the green has finished cleaning her claws, bone clubs half-cocked as she lurches forward, and decides against it. She settles back down but doesn't relax, the rumble in her throat too low to sound pleased. There's celebration for that first blow, for the first taste, drums rhythm fit for dancing, for whooping in the glow of a bonfire. Hraedhyth accepts the blood sacrifice, drinks it in and revels in Cailluneth's hunt. As for her bloodlust, that is not shared, and the gold growls low, primal wisdom passed down, « The one you marked. » Flames dance around the vision of a bloodied flank, growing smaller and smaller as it makes its escape. « Do not make them suffer. Do not be wasteful. » The green is to not harm another, as she is not yet able to eat two. (Hraedhyth to Cailluneth) Cailluneth growls over her shoulder to Hraedhyth - I got this, mum. She slinks low, wings tucked tight to her sides, slinking in as close as she can... and giving chase when the herdbeasts run. One lags behind, its bloodied flank slowing its escape; the little green pulls on an extra burst of speed, slamming herself bodily against the failing beast, knocking it sideways. It falls with a pitiful cry, legs flailing, hooves catching Cailluneth's hide in several sharp blows in its final desperate attempt for life. Each thud of hoof on hide is ignored as Cailluneth lowers herself over the beast, whiplash-fast to snap her jaws around its neck, body buffeted by her kill's death throes as its life bleeds into the heat of her throat, through her deadlocked grip. The last twitching movements are met with a shake of Cailluneth's head, one final sharp twist ringing with the snap of bone - and she's done. Bloodied maw gently eases open, letting the herdbeast's head drop to the ground with a deadweight thud, before she circles her trophy, sniffing and bumping her muzzle curiously at it. And N'ky? He's barely moved, but his eyes are huge and he doesn't look entirely well, with a chalkiness to his complexion and his lips drawn into a tight, thin line. But he's quiet, and still, and watching. Obedience is pushed aside for a triumphant copper whirl, bright sparks reflecting off its glinting surface as they explode in white-hot glee, laced with blood - tangy, metallic, heated, sweet blood. The sensation of it wells up and over, bubbling throughout her mind and into her dam's, filling the space between them in a glorious torrent of lifeforce rouge. Her kill. Her pride. Her blood. The desire to repeat is there but suppressed, her queen's orders forcing compliance, while hunger creeps up in ebony to wind its way through the thrill of the kill. (Cailluneth to Hraedhyth) Well excuuuse me! Hraedhyth pulls her head back in surprise at that growl lobbed over Cailluneth's shoulder, giving a snort. There's no change in her faceted gaze to hint that she's taken it at all personally, likely amused by the dragonet's independence. N'ky will be able to hear the large dragon shift, too distracted to realize that she's shed her own calm, caught up in the joy of a hunt that is not her own. The gold twitches as her daughter gives chase, claws attempting to to sink into the earth as if the ground were an overgrown 'beast. When Cailluneth makes her first kill, Hraedhyth lurches to her feet and gives a snarling cry worthy of any spectating mom. Thatta girl! To Cailluneth, Hraedhyth's pride threatens to overwhelm, kept under the cover of thick black smoke so as not to step all over the green's moment. It is Cailluneth's time to shine. Drumbeats echo far and wide, telling the tale of Firsts as her plains are flooded by the sweet crimson shared between them. She does nothing to stem the flow, untouched by influence of dam or queen, trusting in the green's hunger to keep her focused on her fresh kill. « Feed. » She nearly coos, encouraging, dark smoke carrying with it the scent of meat. Hraedhyth's noisy and makes N'ky jump - so focused on his lifemate that he'd forgotten she was there, perhaps? He winces up at her, tearing his eyes from Cailluneth for just a moment; a moment that ends quickly when he gets a fresh taste of blood filling his mouth as the thickset green sheds her curiosity to sink her teeth into the thick hide of the old 'beast, rending flesh from its haunch. The weyrling's eyes close and he drops his head down onto his arms, leaning heavily against the fence as he tries to control his breathing, control his urge to bring up his last meal. Cailluneth focuses on eating, using tooth and claw to tear through meat, messy enough that she has blood across her muzzle, paws and chest. When she gets to the herdbeast's belly she's surprised by the mass that spills out when her claws slash through hide, stepping back from the steaming entrails with a snort at her dam. Would you like this bit? To Hraedhyth, Cailluneth captures Hraedhyth's pride, weaving it into a golden skein that she settles over both of their mental presences. Her time to shine, yes, and she does so in tones of platinum brightness and buffed copper brilliance, but this is Hraedhyth's moment too; for isn't she there as well? Smoke is turned to fine silver in her mind, from dark to light, appreciative and comforting, the warmth of her kill's blood extended from cub to mother, running from thoughtvein to vein in an invitation to share - share the thrill, the desire, the joy, the kill, the spoils of it all. Shimmering pride wells up, the throbbing beat of a bursting heart, and the hot, hot blood that pumps through it - all for her. All for Hraedhyth. Hraedhyth touches with a heat that is not at all unpleasant. Far from it. She shares her joy, her pride, all of which is just as much Azaylia's as far as she's concerned. But, « Her Heart is made ill by this. » There's confusion carried by the wafting scent of cooked meats that only serve to make Hers hungry. (Hraedhyth to Azaylia) Movement causes the gold's head to tilt down, a subtle shift from watching the green to watching her weyrling. Hraedhyth aims a reassuring huff at N'ky's back. Hopefully it's delivered from such a height that her carrion-breath might not reach the nauseated boy. Cailluneth steals her attention all too easily, gold carefully choosing her steps so that she's able to near the pens without crowding the boy. Her neck may not be as lengthy as some, but it serves her well in reaching into the pen without having to step over it. The herdbeasts crowd the wall furthest from the two, the gold's tongue flicking over the entrails thoughtfully. She decides against it, muzzle giving the carcass a nudge that has more spilling forth. Eat up! It's the best part. Numbers. Numbers and names and places and people and... « What? » Azaylia doesn't understand, not until she follows the trail of smoke, the fiery beacon of her lifemate's thoughts. « Oh! Poor thing... » Sympathy winds around Hraedhyth's smoke, dark plumes blocking out thoughts of duty if only to serve another. « I'm coming. » (To Hraedhyth from Azaylia) Cailluneth moves her broad paws out of the way of the spilling guts, snorting unsurely at them, then turning whirling eyes up to Hraedhyth. She drops her muzzle in amongst the steaming pile, testing and tasting, rooting around... and as she does that, N'ky finally turns and retches - twice. Cailluneth then she pulls her head back. No. She doesn't like that. Her dainty nose is rubbed against her blood-spattered paw to clean it off the entrail residue, her tongue flicking out in distaste before she sneezes to clear her nostrils. Nope. Not nice at all. Instead, she turns to flesh once more, eating with gusto and little regard for cleanliness, while a happy growl rumbles deep in her throat. To Cailluneth, Hraedhyth would not steal from her own yung, but she is happy to take what is willingly offered. There's unrestrained marvel at the colors that are shared, this moment -- their moment -- immortalized by the green's bright palette. Of course, this is also why a lifemate is useful. Though she does not take part in devouring the physical beast, the gold savors what Cailluneth shares. Drums match heartbeat, allowing the pup to lead for now if only to stress: All for Cailluneth. A silvery growl reverberates through Cailluneth's mind, happy, shiny ripples like mercury amidst her colour-swirled thoughts. The happy, sleepy content of a belly filled with hot meat lends colour to the very edges of her thinking, watercolour soft in lilac and lavendar, soothing, quiet, comfort and peace. A heartbeat tattoo of yellow pain as she realises the bruising left on her by flailing hoofbeats; but pain worn in pride, held high in glowing reverence for the valiant struggle put forth by a worthy opponent. Honouring the dead, honouring her kill, celebrating the sacrifice: is that not what she's been taught? (Cailluneth to Hraedhyth) Hovering on high, Hraedhyth's oversized jaws snap at the empty air. Just like that. When Cailluneth finds them unpleasant, the queen carefully (so, so carefully), touches the green's muzzle with her tongue. She doesn't lick, doesn't upply any force, but the wet wall of muscle is there to help clense her muzzle of residue. Her muzzle will eventually retreat, allowing the dragonet her meal as the gold lifts her head to watch as a figure nears. Azaylia isn't running at full force, but she is moving swiftly across the bowl, her legs a blur beneath the fabric of her dress. "N'ky!" Not out of breath though she sounds it, "Oh, N'ky. Here." Clearly concerned, she tries to hand him a 'skin, her other hand holding a chunk of plain bread. That isn't offered, not yet. N'ky still has his head hung low between his arms, leaning heavily against the fence, and so he doesn't notice Azaylia's approach until she's right there. He swallows hard, holding out a hand to stop her from getting too close and stepping in...well, something unpleasant, then he looks up with watery-eyed embarrassment, rubbing his hand over his mouth before drawing in a sharp, ragged breath. Swallowing again, he reaches for the skin with a pained, if thankful look, taking first a tiny sip, then enough to swill out his mouth and spit. "S-sorry," he then says in the tiniest, cracked whisper, dropping his gaze to the toes of his dusty boots, shoulders sunk miserably. Cailluneth is far more happy, holding out her nose for her mother's lick, even daring to return the favour with a quick flick of her own tongue along her dam's chin as she pulls back. Having cleaned one side of the beast of those parts that she wants, she then attempts to nudge it over, butting hard at the point where neck meets shoulder, carefully avoiding the guts she has no desire for. The bulky beast is going nowhere fast, and this seems to frustrate the green. « YES. » Hraedhyth's answer is not tempered, flames leaping with joy, smoke blown on a heated breath of relief. There are so many of their tribe who do not follow the same teachings, who do not take the time to appreciate the sacrifice made by those they hunt. The differences in her people are accepted, are encouraged by the gold. It still does not rob her of the happiness felt to find that Cailluneth understands. Yellow pain is reflected in dam's watchful gaze, « You are not badly hurt? » She has to be sure. (Hraedhyth to Cailluneth) To Hraedhyth, Cailluneth shows her hurt as dulling to ochre; there, but insignificant, tucked aside and hidden behind steely blue strength. That blue builds up, strong and unmoveable, proud and bold, just like she is, darkened and strengthened by her dam's smoke and the sense of belonging, of being a member of the pack. A howl of moonlight flutters moth-like across the sheet of blue, fading into smoke that curls back in on itself, forming a circle of knowing, understanding, love, respect; she hurt her kill, and he hurt her in return, but she is made stronger by his sacrifice. Careful not to step in anything, Azaylia's empty hand reaches for N'ky's shoulder only after he's spit. "Shh. Nothing to be sorry for." Her voice is even softer now, trying to sooth the clearly shaken weyrling. "If it helps... I once fainted just watching a bronze in the feeding pens." Strong fingers creep from one shoulder to the next, trying to hook and gently guide him away from the fence. "It must be hard for you to actually feel it all." Either the goldrider is made of heartier stuff, or Hraedhyth doesn't share quite as much. Cailluneth's affection has the gold giving a low croon, her motions almost delicate as she eases her muzzle down once more. Waiting for the green to give her room, she'll successfully flip the herdbeast as well as move it a few feet that way. Oops. Azaylia will have no resistance from N'ky as she leads him away; he's far too sniffly and embarrassed to put up a fight. Before trying to reply to her he has to clear his throat a few times, and even then the first syllable is a failed squeak - a throwback to his younger days that does nothing to ease the crimson that stretches from his cheeks to his ears. "It's the f-feeling, n-not the w-watching," he stammers quietly. "The t-ta---" He lurches forward, shoulders hunching as he battles down the need to be sick again. He's successful in keeping everything down, but it does leave him breathing shallowly and looking pale, save for his blushing. "Sorry," murmured again, barely a whisper, as he reaches for Azaylia's wrist to give it a gentle squeeze. With the herdbeast flipped, Cailluneth rasps appreciation up at Hraedhyth, not even minding that it's now there. There is just as delicious as everywhere else, right? She lowers her muzzle to tuck in once more, making a rumbly-happy purring sound as she eats. No pain is ever insignificant, but as the saturation fades, so does some of Hraedhyth's concern. Pups get hurt, it's how they learn. Strength is acknowledged, respected, and even then... A tongue of flame washes over it all, affectionate and warm as she grooms and strokes over the green's thoughts. Who's the big, bad huntress? Yes. The gold only indulges for a moment, otherwise pulling back and allowing Cailluneth her dignity. (Hraedhyth to Cailluneth) Azaylia is no stranger to squeaking, though the sound does have her giving him a small smile. It falls away as he lurches, the weyrwoman following him down if only to keep her hand on his shoulder. Her palm finds his back, rubbing it up and down at a slow pace, one that unintentionally keeps time with her gold's content drums. "Have you tried asking her to stop?" It comes with a faint wince for the obvious, but she has to start somewhere. "Would you like it if Hraedhyth asked her to?" As he squeezes her wrist, she remembers the bread, lifting both her hand and his in a silent offer. Hraedhyth answers the green's gratitude with a huff, her tail thumping against the ground behind her as Cailluneth feasts. An awkward folding of too-long limbs has N'ky sitting on the ground, knees crooked and elbows resting on them as he rubs over his face with sweaty palms. Both of Azaylia's questions are met with a shake of his head - the second more emphatic. "N-no," he says softly, looking up at her. "I-I'd rather n-not, if it's all the s-same, ma'am?" He reaches for the bread with a thankful little smile, tearing off a tiny morsel to chew on. "I'm g-getting better with the blood. B-but that wasn't j-just blood... that w-was... o-other stuff." He winces, swallowing down another little bit. "She's so h-happy when she does it, ma'am. How c-could I ask her not too?" Dark eyes seek out his lifemate, and he breathes out a heavy sigh. "I'll g-get used to it, f-for her sake." Without realizing it, Azaylia's gone and torn off a healthy chunk of the bread that's meant for N'ky. "If you're sure." She doesn't push, taking a bite of her stolen starch only after she's scooted closer. "Drink more water. You lose a lot when you get sick." Not meant to be an order, gentle tone has her words sounding more like a suggestion than anything. Her eyes follow his, looking from green to gold and then back again. Sympathy morphs into something much more experienced, "You don't want to squash her spirit." Surely Hraedhyth's rider knows a thing or two about what that is like. "But she loves you, N'ky. Just like you're willing to do this for her, I'm sure she could keep from sharing so much and still be happy?" Once the last bit of stolen bread is done away with, she doesn't reach for anymore, fingers brushing at the air. "You know what's best for you, though." She won't make the same mistake twice. N'ky sips at the water as asked, frowning down at the skin. "She... she w-will stop. I th-think she'll stop, once she knows I know how excited it m-makes her to... t-to kill. But, um, this," he waves his hand at the pens, where the crack of Cailluneth's teeth crunching through bone can be heard, "is new." Another little morsel of bread is torn off, rolled into a doughy little pearl between his fingers until he pops it in his mouth. "Um... she thinks v-very highly of Hraedhyth, ma'am. And Cadejoth. From wh-what I pick up from her, I th-think Hraedhyth is... similar? In some w-ways?" The teen turns his gaze hopefully to Azaylia, while rolling another piece of bread into a tight ball. Azaylia is happy to hold onto the bread and let him pick at it, smile gaining strength when she catches him sipping at the water. Since he seems so sure that Cailluneth will stop, "That's good. Let's hope the next few 'firsts' of weyrlinghood aren't as hard on you." The weyrwoman begins to relax, accepting the unplanned break in her otherwise busy day. A gentle reminder as he manages to slip more ma'ams into the conversation, "Azaylia, please." While there isn't any surprise at Cailluneth's thoughts of her dam and grandsire, her smile tips into a fond grin. "They certainly act like they're related, don't they?" All three dragons mentioned, that is. "It happens about as often as there are babies who act nothing like their parents. Hraedhyth is just as crazy about her, trust me. About all of the babies." Including the ones that aren't rightfully hers. "Azaylia," N'ky concedes, giving her a shy smile. "She," Cailluneth, of course, "likes to p-play with Cadejoth. It's k-kinda like watching... p-puppies." That brightens his smile a little more, and he even has a whispery little laugh for the weyrwoman. "I th-think she's very different to the others, ma-- Azaylia. She lets me s-see what they're like, sometimes... in her way. S-some of them are... unsettling." Where there was quiet amusement moments earlier, there's now a frown. "I'm n-not sure I, um, l-like all of them. D-do you think it's alright, to l-like a rider, but, um, n-not their dragon?"" Of course there's a coo for that mental image, "Oh! That... sounds like Cadejoth alright." Azaylia says with a laugh, eyes turning up as if she might be able to pick the familiar bronze out of the sky. "Hraedhyth looks forward to playing with them when they're bigger. When she's sure she won't accidentally hurt them." It's an explanation for why the otherwise intense gold is so careful when around the weyrlings. Giving up on her search, the weyrwoman catches N'ky's frown, her own lips keeping to a thoughtful purse. "Actually..." She admits with some embarrassment, "I find that I sometimes like the dragon more than their rider. If I'm allowed, I can't see why it doesn't work the other way?" Those rare times she dislikes anyone, that is. Over in the pens, Cailluneth is finished with her meal, snuffling about what remains for curiosity's sake, rather than in search of more to eat. She growl-snorts happily, then stretches out sleepily, wings, neck and forepaws stretched to their limits. With her belly full she looks up at the fence she scrambled in over, as if debating how to get up and over it now that she's even heavier with meat. "Hraedhyth c-could play with her now," N'ky assures Azaylia, watching his dragonet with a look of concern. "I think she, um, l-likes being able to play with a b-bigger dragon. They're more... resillient. She likes to b-bite and scratch, and, um, s-stuff. The other babies will get hurt." His frown deepens, and his bites down on his lip. "Oh, sh-she, um, she can't get out." Cai's got her front feet on the top of the pen, but she's making no moves to jump like before. N'ky gets to his feet, dusting dirt off his butt. "There's a gate, right?" "I'm sure if she was careful, Cailluneth would be fine. But she isn't sure." Which is enough of a reason for Hraedhyth to be willing to wait. Babies grow fast! Azaylia nods, "I've talked with her about it. She won't budge. At least there's Cadejoth?" Both N'ky and Hraedhyth make her aware of Cailluneth's plight, roughly in the same instant which has her biting back a giggle. Once she's on her feet, a hand reaches back to dust herself off in a similar fashion, "I'll show you where it is. Though, I need to head back after I do." Hraedhyth seem especially worried, even if there's some unease at the thought of her pup being trapped. That's what lifemates and their handy thumbs are for. Cailluneth doesn't seem overly worried herself, though she does lumber eagerly over to the gate when it's opened for her. She presses her bloodied muzzle out towards Azalia, snorting hot breath at her happily - a very 'look what I've done!' proud moment for the little green. N'ky gasps when he sees the bruises showing on his lifemate's chest and side, reaching to run fingers featherlight over them, even through the blood that masks them. "Oh, Cai..." The rub of her head lovingly against his chest reassures him that she's fine... and leaves him with a dirty dead animal smear across his tunic. "I n-need to get her washed up, um, b-before I get her to bed. But, um, ma'am? Azaylia? C-could I maybe, um, c-come by sometime and, um, s-speak to you? About... some, um, stuff." Azaylia doesn't shy away from the blood, hand reaching out to stroke over Cailluneth's eyeridges once the pudgy green is free. "Yes, I've heard all about it." As many dragons have, and will, the next time Hraedhyth is there to watch a dragonet make a successful kill. Her worry stems from N'ky's own, "I'm sure she's alright. Hraedhyth says they're not that bad..?" It takes her a moment to banish the subtle grimace when the green decides to share all over the lad's shirt. "Oh. Of course." Brown eyes lift to catch N'ky's own, "If I'm not too busy, I'm happy to talk with you about... stuff. You, and any of your classmates." Unfortunately, what time she's put aside has just run out, "I should get back. Goodbye N'ky. Cailluneth." A smile for both, before she's turning and heading back in the direction of the weyrleader's complex. |
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