The sky's gorgeous above the dark stone of the Weyr; this close to the cliff, it's like blue water in a well. Too bad the weyrling dragonets are only allowed to glide in the very lowest part of it, just above the ground, but at least they are gliding at last. There are a few 'naturals' within the class, but with Zmeyth known to be one of the more normal variety, Telavi's still supervising one-on-one... or rather pair-on-pair, especially given that Solith's glad to set an example even if she'd rather go up. As the green wafts to her latest landing, making it look simpler than breathing, Tela signals V'ros to let his brown know to go for it.
Other dragons might be delighted by this newest turn of events. It's sort of like flying! It's using their wings! But Zmeyth, he doesn't take losing too well. He has, at this point, been pushed to the point of frustration, an emotion that is easily noted in his agitated weyrling, who is busy pacing back and forth on the sidelines. So the brown gives it another go, after Telavi signals to V'ros, and while he gets off to a great start, he sputters out midway through and hastily comes to a wobbly finished; he's lucky he doesn't fall on his snout, really. Another dark expression passes over V'ros's face, his brown eyes flicking to Telavi, his brow knitted. "What are we doing wrong?"
Telavi is staying positive here. "It's not like last time, where the wind kicked up partway. I think one thing he can do is to keep his wings not quite so taut so that the wingsail can fill up more," she curves her arms out from her sides in illustration. "And-- I know this is annoying-- don't let it get to you, either of you, that it's not working out quite yet. Don't overthink. It's like... trusting, in a way? To the air, which isn't always easy." Then, "How do you relax when you get tense, what works for you? Have you tried," wryly, "'deep breaths'?"
Zmeyth is ready to try again, anxious to 'get it right'. "Right," V'ros says, looking blank, but he turns to his brown, an intensity replacing the blankness. "It's not that easy. At all." He shifts, uncertain, as the gangly dragon starts his next attempt, this time getting a little farther, with a less safe landing. "Damn," the weyrling mutters, shaking his head. "Are you.. telling me to take deep breaths.. right now?" His face could lead one to believe she had asked him to dance in the weyrbowl naked, instead. Tensions are running strong between the bond, creating a charged environment, but only V'ros lets the emotion surface.
"I am now," Telavi tells him after a wince for Zmeyth's landing-- "Flex your knees!"-- and this time gives the human weyrling a longer look. "Do you feel more relaxed after you've done a lot of running, say? Swimming? Listening to music in the caverns? What did you do before you were V'ros, did you get tense at hard things too, or is this new?"
Somehow it always comes back to his state of mind - and that really pisses V'ros off. Or, it could just be the lack of success that pisses him off. Or, life in general. Whatever the case, he looks increasingly aggravated. "Relaxed? Do I feel 'relaxed'? I can't remember the last time I was 'relaxed'.. ma'am," he throws out carelessly, adding the bit at the end. "Before I Impressed, I was a no body, and I never had time to relax." That's not true, of course, but it takes him a minute to gather an appropriate reply. "Back.. then, I would go outside and walk around. 'There'. Not here. Here.. there's nothing relaxing, but 'there' is all hills and trees and quiet. Just solitude," followed by a sharp inhale, deep exhale, and shifty glance at Zmeyth.
His pissiness doesn't seem to bother Telavi all that much, or maybe it's not that it surprises her that much; "Which you're never going to get again," she notes. "Even if you fly out to hills and trees and firelizards flocking in the breeze, you won't get to be alone... which isn't to say you won't get to relax, at least if you get this training down pat. Have you hit anything lately?" She's cocked her head; maybe she's volunteering! "Do you want to?"
By the defensive crossing of his arms, it's obvious V'ros isn't taking her stating the obvious too well. "I know that. Zmeyth will be with me forever." No one can forget 'that' dragon in their head. But then she mentions hitting and he blanches, paling and shrinking back a few steps. "No. Why would I? I can't do that. Why would you suggest that?" Then paranoia, "Did Quinlys tell you to say that?" He's giving her some crazy stink eye right now, while Zmeyth is calmly watching them, waiting for them to pay attention to 'him' again - nevermind that they're discussing him in the indirect fashion.
"You really, really can," says Telavi, and she's advancing as he shrinks as though she's suddenly decided he's prey. She, the bright, cheerful, helpful blonde that some might have dismissed as a lightweight. She's not paying obvious attention to Zmeyth, though Solith certainly is, even as the green preens the inner curve of her wings. "Here." Telavi holds up her palm to V'ros, up and a little out. "Hit my hand. No, seriously. Use your good arm." That question about Quinlys, that just doesn't get an answer.
Distrust flares in V'ros's eyes as Telavi comes closer. "I don't.. this is.. what?" He stands there stiffly, unsure of what to do next. Here is one of Quinlys's assistants, telling him to take his aggression out by punching her, when all this time he's supposed to be working on his temper - surely this is a trick. "I.. I.." To please her, he takes a swing, though it is obviously weak and laughable. "There.. I think.. I'm fine, really, we don't need to.." He winces, shifting uncomfortably.
There's the slight impact of hand to palm; Telavi doesn't dodge, just stays bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Harder this time," she says cheerfully.
V'ros works his mouth like a fish out of water, but he finally swallows his fear and tries another punch. Weak. Another. Better. Third time is good enough, solid, without too much power behind it. Zmeyth is still watching, still and silent like a statue.
"Better," Tela says approvingly. How long has it been since he got approval like that, approval that's meant? "Hear that thwack? Feel it? Go for more."
It's something. Listening, taking notes, receiving praise. V'ros gives another few round of punches, concentrating more for each new hit. As he comes off the last one, he gives his head a shake, frowning. "Ok.. I get it. That helped." Maybe someone else knows what they're doing besides Quinlys, but he won't say those words out loud.
The more solid he gets, the more bouncy Tela gets. She doesn't demand any out-loud words, she certainly doesn't highlight how she was a volunteer unlike certain other people, she just grins. "Good. Now, what I want you to do is do this," and she illustrates by putting her feet apart and bending down to touch each one in turn, her blonde ponytail flopping. "And Zmeyth? You hop. Follow Solith." Solith gives her a longsuffering look, but her eyes are blue. She hops.
Hop? Zmeyth? No. He sits where he's been sitting, watching everything unfold. Even a glare from V'ros can't tempt him to do something as 'ridiculous' as hop. But V'ros, he watches and learns quickly, following the greenrider's moves with a sudden fervor; perhaps he's trying to make up for his dragon's lack of cooperation. "Ok," he says, breathing fast, "what's.. this.. for?"
"I'll tell you afterward. Now, stretch further, try to get your actual toes. Not too fast, not jerky, smooth motions," says Tela. She doesn't look at Zmeyth, but Soith notes in a very Telavi-sounding if friendly-enough way, fire flickering around the edges of her airy breeze, « If you wish to fly soon, you will do this. If you would like to sit there like a bump on the ground until Zvaraseth beats you to it... » it's his loss, no skin off Telavi's nose or her own slender muzzle. Her hop is even elegant. She has confidence that this can be done. « You may shelter behind me if you wish. »
"Toes," V'ros says as he does just that - tries to reach his toes, mimicking Telavi's movements as best he can. He's making some progress at least. Zmeyth, on the other hand, is adamant about not participating. « You look stupid. » He's smoke and ash, burning heat, all suffocating thickness and searing flame, but he's quick to react to the insult, « Zvaraseth? » And then to rub salt in the wound, she suggest he 'hide'? Oh, no. Zmeyth does a half-hearted hop. That he tries is progress in and of itself.
Flame doesn't mind flame, soaring higher on the oxygen of her breeze-- and was that an insult of Zmeyth's? Maybe Solith really is airheaded enough not to notice. Solith also doesn't praise Zmeyth, but pleasure keeps that breeze fresh where it's not actually touching the befouling smoke; as she keeps hopping, she shares the sensation of long, strong legs flexing, of increasing height, of being able to see higher and further... of balance. "Mmm, better," Tela assures. "Now touch the opposite, like so..."
Zmeyth simply 'is', he's not humored by her imagery or of thoughts of strong legs, but for now he keeps up the hopping, much like a sullen child who rolls their eyes as they eat their spinach. V'ros is sweating from his exertions, breathing more rapidly the more he moves. "Ok, the opposite," he repeats, adjusting his body to the new set of exercises.
Humor may not be her intent, rather how it feels right to distinguish from not-right and not-effective, but Solith doesn't pause; he's doing it, that's enough for now. « Now leap, » she says once he's gotten high enough-- if he's gotten high enough-- in a great arching bound. Now they're getting somewhere... or at least she is. "This time lead with your elbows," Telavi changes it up. She keeps her own pace even, though she does slow down somewhat if his breathing starts to get rough as well as rapid.
« You're kidding me, » the brown relays, whirling eyes contemplating the green. « What good is that ? » V'ros isn't tuning into their back-and-forth, he's too busy concentrating on not falling on his face as he does his best to imitate Telavi. Elbows down towards his toes, switch, repeat it again. She's got the upper hand, being in much better strength, but he is 'trying', which is better than not.
Her eyes aren't as blue as they used to be, as they whirl back at Zmeyth. There's that flicker of fire again. « Zvaraseth, » she reminds, though pleasure starts to replace pointedness as soon as her wings sweep down, this time, at the high point of her leap. Solith glides, and she does it beautifully. Not that Telavi's looking; Telavi's continuing with the stretching. If V'ros seems to have too much trouble, or conversely it starts to look so easy that he might start thinking about dragons, she'll change it up. Trying is all she needs.
A terrible, awful grinding and clicking sounds starts - could it be he's trying to annoy her? Zmeyth lifts his head and chuffs. « Zvaraseth, » the brown snaps, but it does put his gears into motion, his hulking brown frame doing exactly as the green has said: he leaps. Not gracefully. Not with poise. Gangly, awkwardly, with a faltering ending. That earns a rumble of displeasure, a flicker of fire. V'ros is starting to reach his stopping point, hands on his knees and swallowing great mouthfuls of air. His brow is furrowed, face red and dripping with sweat. "I.. I can't," he says, shaking his head.
Certainly Solith gives the scale-patterned brown a reproachful look before that mental noise fades away, though not as though there's a thought in her head that he might have made it on purpose. Her subsequent warble is more approving, and she notes ingenuously-- surely she couldn't be trying to incite him?-- « You might even outdo Savroveth, with enough practice. » Unless Savroveth practices too, though she doesn't imply that. « This time, extend your wings when you are up! » He's almost there! Telavi, for her part, stops and just looks at V'ros in all his sweat for a long moment. "Say, 'I did.'" That's her instruction, and she doesn't have to look down to unhook the waterskin at her belt; walking towards him, she'll as readily pour some of that cooling draught over him as offer it to his mouth.
« I can outdo Savroveth any time of the day, » Zmeyth provides, pride struck up from the insinuation that he has anything to prove. No matter which of his brothers, he's up to the task. He'll do as she says for now, lifting wings wide when he leaps next, showing that he is at least teachable given the right incentive. V'ros welcomes the rush of water, the cooling effect instant. He releases his breath in a great swoosh, closing his eyes as the water trickles over his face. "I.. I did, ok?" But he's still bent over, resting his palms on his knees, breathing less rapidly.
Her encouraging sunlight-sense may readily, and quite possibly rightly, be read as agreement; luckily for Solith, or rather for Zmeyth's progress, the young brown has several brothers. « It is good, » Solith says now, and this time when she leaps-and-glides, she all but floats. She doesn't look back; Telavi does, and between the rush and the glide, the swoosh and the results, her grin is wide before she reins it in. "You did better than okay," she assures, even if that's not exactly how he'd meant it, and crouches to hold the waterskin in front of the weyrling's nose. "Drink some?"
They're leaping and gliding, now! Zmeyth doesn't even appear to notice the change; he's just doing, because he has to prove his rightness. Other browns be damned. "Thanks," V'ros mutters and grabs the skin. He takes a long pull from it, standing up with a pained expression. "I'm going to be sore." It's a statement, not as much of a complaint, as he hands the waterskin back to Telavi. His eyes find Zmeyth and he is - stunned. "That ...happened?"
"You will," Telavi confirms as she straightens like that's a good thing, and her smile's that much sunnier for that astonishment. "While neither of you were paying attention. Yes. See, you can do it." It's followed by, "And I'm for shade and letting them be." So if V'ros would like any last words with her, it should be before she strides off to get some.
"Yeah," is spoken idly as he starts following Telavi, but his brown eyes are still on the progress of his dragon, that same astonishment present. V'ros stops before he gets to the shade, like he's going to go back; just as suddenly, he gives his head a shake and slips into the greenrider's shadow. Let them be.
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