You step out of the depression of Nallath's couch.
"/Again/?" Ilesyn sounds disgruntled, and certainly unamused; she steps away from the area around Nallath's couch after the brown, as he pads - precisely, and very deliberately - towards the meat bins. Her hands are rubbed upon her breeches, as she closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. "Coming," she whispers, "I'm coming."
A loud snore comes from Cyn's direction as she lays, or rather sprawls, on the stone couch next to her blue. Seems she fell asleep oiling - a large brush has fallen a few feet from her hand, and her weyrling outfit is oily. Temanth stirs, raises his head, and playfully hits his lifemate in the side with his snout. The new rider grunts, her eyes flickering open. "Now? I was asleep!" She sounds quite grumbly as she brushes herself off, getting wearily to her feet.
Nallath's head is tilted to the side, somewhat thoughtfully, as he catches sight of Temanth-- someone to watch! Ilesyn's more weary, less interested, and chops at the meat in front of her with haphazard motions; some pieces are nearly as large as the palm of her hand, others are hardly bigger than her fingertips. "I don't think they understand the concept of beauty sleep." /That/ is a dry comment - dry, and somewhat sarcastic.
"I think it would take a good deal more beauty sleep than I've ever gotten to help with my face." Cyn rubs at the little spill of oil from the brush, massaging it into Temanth's head as she moves towards the pile of meat. Temanth moves ahead of her, anxious as a child being given a sweet, and glances back at her as he reaches the pile, obviously quite huntry. Cyn quickens her steps in response, with a sigh.
"Same here." Ilesyn's more cheerful about that than anything else; no doubt, /it/ is a constant, whereas everything else seems to be changing. Somewhat warily, the new weyrling offers a handful of meat to Nallath, who regards it with great curiosity. "Aren't you going to eat?" It takes several more moments, until he finally accepts the offering, chewing upon it slowly. Very slowly. Ilesyn's expression turns impatient.
Cyn crosses her legs, sitting down against a crate and taking a handfull of bloody meat in her hand. She does nothing to try to stop it from dripping on her clothes as she hands it over to Temanth, careful to give him only the smaller bits she chopped with her knife. "Chew" she reminds him, moving her jaw up and down to demonstrate. "No choking." She speaks as she would to a stubborn child, but there's affection there as well. To Ilesyn, she sighs. "I haven't gotten out of the barracks yet. Just eat, sleep, chores, and oil."
"Eat it, don't dissemble it!" Rather sharper than apparently intended, Ilesyn's comment quickly results in a flush, her head ducking. "Well, do. It's for eating. You can examine it later, when you're not crippling me with your hunger." Nallath nudges his head at the meat, nudging it out of Ilesyn's hand, and leans down onto the floor to eye it carefully, turning this way and that. "Yes, it's red. Very red.-- I went to the living caverns, to eat. I'm not sure if I want to go back. People smirk at me."
"And no one here looks at you except your lifemate." Temanth tips his head sideways to study Cyn as he hears her comment before that, and Cyn hastens to add, "No, no, I love you. I just am looking forward to when we can go out. Together." Another few bites of meat are offered. Temanth seems to be getting on pretty well. To Ilesyn, she nods. "Same here. Never thought I'd impress. Even being searched...there's no way they could have known Temanth was there for me. I thought they had made a mistake."
Ilesyn sighs wearily at Nallath's curious examination of the meat, shutting her eyes to block it out. "I just want time to be just me, sometimes, you know? Not 'us', not 'we'. I wasn't /supposed/ to be Impress. I was supposed to walk off the sands, and come and be a Junior Assistant Weyrlingmaster, so that I could take notes on all of you, and write my paper." Nallath lifts his head, eyes whirling as he watches her, and she flushes. "No, no. I just--"
"I was supposed to go home. I can't bring Temanth home." She strokes his head affectionately as he studies her with a worried, red-whirling gaze, and feeds him a few more scraps. "I mean, I couldn't do without him now. But...I came here to earn money for my family. I can't send anything home now. And my parents aren't going to understand. It...Temanth is the best friend I could ever have. But there's nothing else now."
"Nothing else," repeats Ilesyn, her eyes still closed, as she leans forward, resting her head in her hands. "Yes, that's about the estimation of it. He--he's /everything/, but he's changed everything, too. I don't want to resent him for it, or anything, and I don't want to hurt him." Unspoken, however, there is a 'but', and it's audible in her voice. Nallath nudges at her leg, and she sits up again, offering another handful of meat.
Cyn glances over at Ilesyn, a faint smile appearing on her face. Wasn't that the same woman who was undercutting her words in fron't of C'daer. "You could still be a weyrhealer, couldn't you?" As Cyn turns away, Temanth slips around her, finding the pile, and devouring a large chunk hungrily. The rider turns back, eeps, and motions quickly for him to chew.
Ilesyn's expression turns rueful. "I hate feeling so out of control, and so soppy. It's not right. And no, I can't be. Not until the pass ends, anyway. Weyrs need all the riders they have." Nallath is still pondering his meat, viewing it from as many angles as he can manage, before he finally deigns to eat it - and Ilesyn turns green. "No, no, you don't need to describe the taste to me. Really."
"You're going to hurt yourself." Cyn fixes Temanth with a stern glance and carefully gives him much smaller bites than she was previously. He grumbles, sitting back on his haunches, and wrapping his tail around to touch Cyn's feet. She responds to Ilesyn without looking. "Exactly. I -hate- depending on other people." She adds, quickly, for Temanth's benefit, "Dragons. Not people. But I'm supposed to be in control. And I have no control like this." At the excuse, she shakes her head, risking a glance over, "You still could. The falls aren't every day. There's some time...as soon as they can actually feed themselves."
"Hurry up," complains Ilesyn - evidently towards Nallath. "You're hungry, I'm hungry, and you're just sitting there /watching/ it." Nallath huffs a deep, low breath, and leans down to scoop the next piece of meat into his mouth, chewing slightly faster. "Do you fear the lack of control?" the Mindhealer queries. "Is it something that you would go out of your way to avoid at all cost?" Shaking her head, she adds, "Oh, sure, I can do it on occasion, but ridering is a full time job. Sweeps, and drills, and flights, and-- so many other things. I won't have time."
"That doesn't mean you can't ask questions. Which you're obviously doing." Cyn appears more amused than annoyed as she guesses at the point of Ilesyn's questioning. She pauses to respond to Temanth's jabs, "Alright. I'm getting it!" Standing, she moves to the stone cot to retrieve the oil, before returning. "I don't...fear it. I just hate having other people control what I'm supposed to do. C'daer wanted to foster me. I'm plenty old enough to fend for myself."
Ilesyn's lips twist into a wry, amused smile. "I don't think I /could/ stop asking questions. That, you'll have to continue to put up with, regardless." Nallath is still eating. Well - he's hardly eaten anything, as yet, and Ilesyn pauses to shove a handful towards him. "Just /eat/. -- Foster you? You're not that young, surely. C'daer's an idiot." Musing, she adds, "So, you like to have control, but moreover, you dislike for anyone else to be able to have control over you. You don't like to be told what to do."
"Yes, exactly." Cyn returns with the brush and oil and gets that spot juuuust behind the neck that was bothering Temanth half to death. She snorts at that. "I'm glad I can find someone who's not fawning over him. I quite agree he's an idiot. Though he was quite amusing when the hatching was announced. Like a gold dragon hovering over her clutch."
"Oh, don't worry. He and I might have come to something of a-- impasse, but fawning I shall never be." Ilesyn offers Nallath another handful of meat, but he's back to his old ways, and he inspects it for a long time, as she gets impatient. "Yes, he was indeed. He /is/ rather amusing. It's one of his more endearing characteristics. Fascinating, really."
K'rain ambles in from the Weyrling field.
K'rain comes strolling in, his hands in his pockets, looking moderately cheerful. He does a turn, taking stock of activity in the barracks and nodding to a few weyrlings as he passes by.
"I quite agree. When he's not yelling at you he's not half bad. Not good. But quite amusing." Cyn begins rubbing the oil over Temanth's membranous wings, carefully, adding to her dragon, "Yes, you need this. It's to make the itching stop." To Ilesyn she sighs. "I suppose I'll get to like the weather. It's freezing here from what I've seen though. Don't know how everyone can stand it."
Ilesyn's not oblivious to K'rain, her head tilted forward in something of a nod as she continues to try and convince Nallath to eat, rather than inspect. "You'll get used to the weather," she prophesises. "Most people do. Either that, or you'll transfer down south somewhere. Me, I've lived in the Fort area all my life. Boll's too warm; I like it cooler." Amused, still, she adds, "It's odd. He's younger than me, but he's going to be telling me what to do."
Cyn glances up, spots K'rain, and nods, but her main attention is still for Temanth. "Yes, yes, I know. Look. I'm working on it." She gets the top of his tail. "Good. Now flip" and starts working on his belly. He wiggles, looking to be in danger of knocking over the table stacked with meat. Cyn, busy with the dragon, doesn't turn as she responds. "I've never been particularly good at listening to my relations. Part of the reason I'm here. I'm still not sure this is going to work." And she gives C'daer a rather dark look as he passes by.
"I hadn't thought of that," Ilesyn admits. "That /would/ be hard. Listening to your-- cousin, is it?-- tell you what to do. Well, if you ever need to talk about it, listening is what I do best." Nallath's fascination with the meat draws yet another sigh, and Ilesyn downright shoves it into his mouth. "Chew. Swallow. You can deliberate all you want over the stuff when you're not making me feel hungry in the process."
"I'll remember that." And Cyn even manages a small smile for the older woman as she stands. "I fear with Temanth, I'll need it. He seems determined to ask questions about -everything-." She gives the dragon an affectionatly sharp rub with the brush on his stomach which makes him jump, and his eyes begin to whirl. "No, you need this. It'll make this stop itching. Yes, I'll get your legs too, in just a second. And then you can have more meat."
K'rain pauses near where Ilesyn and Cyn are conversing, not so much to listen to their conversation as to observe their progress in feeding and oiling dragonets. He gives them both a small smile and another nod.
Ilesyn gives Nallath a wry glance, head shaking. "/He/ just wants to know everything about everything, by observing it. He's got to be worse than I am. So... precise." Another handful of meat is shoved down his throat, and K'rain, caught by her gaze once more, is turned upon. "Is there anything else I can do, to make him eat faster?"
"Here." With a disgusted snort, Cyn tosses him another few bites, poking him in the already distended stomach with her brush. "You're sleepy already?" She sighs, shaking her head. "I mean, I don't mind. I'm kinda sleepy too. But that's just from oiling you." To Ilesyn, she smirks slightly. "Like rider like dragon." K'rain is ignored for the time being.
K'rain blinks a few times, and puts a hand to his head, rubbing at the back of it. "He's... not eating fast enough?" he asks, perplexed. That's a new one.
Ilesyn rolls her eyes upon Cyn's comment and smirk, attention turned to K'rain. "He wants to inspect every bite, before eating it. And then, even once he's got it in his mouth, he has to try and describe exactly what it tastes like, before he'll swallow it. It all takes forever."
"Now you know how all of us feel hearing about it, hmm?" Cyn's tone is obviously teasing, very different from the bitter sarcasm she usually uses, especially with C'daer. She moves towards the stone couch, laughing at some comment by her lifemate, and Temanth follows.
K'rain would laugh, but he manages to stop it at just a grin. "Gynraeth is kind of like that when she hunts, sometimes," he says. "Although she doesn't eat /slowly/, I wouldn't say. Um. I don't know, just try to wait it out? If he's really hungry, he will eat. You aren't over feeding him, are you?"
Ilesyn opens her mouth to retort to Cyn, but shakes her head. "I'm not /that/ bad. I'm trying to help. He just wants to know." K'rain, however, has most of her attention - as one hand offers another few pieces of meat, her gaze is upon the Assistant Weyrlingmaster. "He hardly eats anything, unless I push. I guess I just have to be patient, then?" Grimacing, another handful is offered, but Nallath's hardly started to chew the one before.
Temanth flops onto the stone couch, spreading out his legs and laying out, head tipped to one side. Cyn joins him in a cot nearby, laughing again. "Temanth, that's not nice. Some dragon's eat faster than others. That doesn't make you better. Go to bed." And she seems to be following her own advice, hunkering down under the blankets.
K'rain frowns slightly, and the focus of his attention sharpens. He moves closer to look Nallath over. "He doesn't? How much is 'hardly anything'?" He rubs his chin, considering. "He doesn't really look undernourished. How much has he been growing, compared to the others, would you say?"
Ilesyn corrects herself, quickly, "He does eat, he just takes forever to eat anything, so it's hard to know how /much/." Pausing, she adds, "he seems to be larger than most of the other browns - not that I check - but..." Nallath nudges against her ankle with his muzzle, and, surprised, she nearly drops the meat in her hand, which he nudges at next.
K'rain rubs his nose. "Okay," he says finally. "If he's slow, but he eats enough, then he should be fine. I mean, tell C'daer, since you're worried about him." He looks over the brown once more. "It's probably okay, but we will want to watch him, just to make sure he's getting enough. He doesn't... when he finishes, he's not still hungry, is he?"
Ilesyn nods slowly. "All right," she says, after a pause. "I'll just keep trying, I guess. No, he isn't. It just takes twice as long as anyone else, and so he's itching while he's eating, and it's all a mess." Glancing at Nallath again, she mutters, "You /sure/ you don't want to talk about it? I mean, I'm listening. Just explain what's making you so slow..."
Osasune is currently giving Caledoth some food, sighing. "What? You didn't want the juiciest bits a few moments ago..."
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath's touch - deep, rich, and smokey - resonates thoughtfully, as he extends a tendril of thought. << Why shouldn't I discover which are the nicest pieces? Isn't it important, to find what is most beautiful? >> Dappling his touch are waves of red - bloody, gooey, warm. Delicious.
"He may not know," K'rain says with a small shrug. "But as long as he doesn't come away hungry, he should be fine. And he'll probably get over it."
Fort weyrling dragons sense Caledoth rumbles a reply, his baritone clear and concise and shaded with greens and greys. << Of course. I know I only merit the best, after all. Only the best will do! >>
Ilesyn grimaces, but dips her head into a nod. "Thank you. I'll keep trying." She stiffles a sigh, pushing another handful of meat towards the brown. "Just eat it. Please?" Osa and Caledoth are noted; a short nod of her head is made in their direction.
Osasune sighs, rooting through the bucket of meat she's chopped and offering another chunk to Caledoth. "How's /this/ one?" She waves a bloody hand at Ilesyn.
Fort weyrling dragons sense Sylviath purrs with a soft, quiet tone, <
Fort weyrling dragons sense Gynraeth projects << All the meat is good. It has been checked and cut especially for you. >>
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath projects << Precisely. >> He doesn't pause before adding, however, his voice as smooth and rich as the finest of wines, << Besides which, I don't understand it. Why does it taste as it does? What makes it so? >> Sylviath and Gynraeth both are greeted with a soft warble. << Meat, of course. It is a fine thing, is it not? >>
"Picky?" Ilesyn queries, tilting her head towards Caledoth. She all but forces her hand into Nallath's mouth, wincing as she does so - physical touch is not something she enjoys, apparently, but at least it causes him to injest some of it.
Fort weyrling dragons sense Gynraeth doesn't know the answers to any of those questions, other than the latter. << It is very good. *Wherry* also is good, and *porcine* and *ovine*. They are all different. When you are older you may taste them. >>
"Quite suddenly picky," Osasune replies; Caledoth's puffing himself up, head raised and wings rustling. She shrugs helplessly.
K'rain watches Ilesyn and Osasune. "Most people don't have this problem," he observes, torn between amusement and concern. "I mean. Most dragons, you have to keep them from wolfing it down."
Fort weyrling dragons sense Sylviath gives a reassuring warble. <<
Fort weyrling dragons sense Caledoth echoes, << Meat! >> He rumbles decisively, << I deserve the finest of the finest so I will be the finest of the finest! >>
Nallath considers Caledoth. Perhaps even more fascinating than meat? Debatable. "I think ou--they must just be odd, then." She grimaces - again - and tries to force more meat upon her brown.
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath insists, claret and bloody reds spinning and twinning within his voice, << Meat is more fascinating to watch, and learn about, than to eat - though it tastes very good. Where does it come from? >>
"Caledoth's not... not weird," Osasune says, blinking. "He's just... Caledoth!" She tries to feed the preening blue another chunk.
Fort weyrling dragons sense Sylviath gives warm, quiet tones, both amuzed and admiring. <
Fort weyrling dragons sense Caledoth replies, excitedly - blues swirling over the greens and greys, greens brightening, << I was shown images! Strange looking things. >>
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath projects an image of a running beast - and even without a word, he marvels over the symmetry of motion, the flawlessness and grace. << They are fine creatures. Worthy of our meals. >>
A weyrling in the back of the room yelps for help, and K'rain abruptly excuses himself to hurry back and see what the matter is. "What do you need?" he can be heard to ask as he enters conference with the weyrling.
"/He/ is." That, evidently, means Nallath - not Calledoth. Ilesyn draws her hands back, staring at Nallath warily. "Had enough, have you? It's about time."
"Is he?" Osa replies mildly, unstiffening a little. She roots around in the bloody meat bucket, Caledoth poking his muzzle in the root about, too. "Ssh, just wait," she tells the blue. "How so, Ilesyn?"
Ilesyn fetches the oil, beginning to paddle it over Nallath's hide as she speaks. "He wants to know how everything works. He's fascinated with that, and with movement, and how things come together." The brown's still watching Caledoth, head tilting this way and that as if to try and see him at different angles.
"That's not weird," Osasune says, grinning. "I mean, don't you wonder the same things?" She finishes out a piece, holding it up for inspection. Caledoth tilts his head, then opts to open his mouth. He'll take that one.
Nallath senses Caledoth rumbles, << Do you see how she chooses only the best for me? >>
"Yes it is," insists Ilesyn. "No, I don't. I don't wonder about stupid things like why meat tastes so good. I really couldn't care less."
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath warbles, calmly. << I do, indeed. She is very careful to give you only the best. But what makes it the best, I wonder? How do you and she decide? >>
Nallath senses Caledoth considers this. Greyish green rumbling returns, to note, << They are the biggest and the juiciest. Those are the best because... because. I may have to ask advice. >>
Osasune giggles a little. "I think it's kind of interesting. I mean, I wouldn't fret about it - he's not fretting, is he? - but it is sort of interesting."
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath is concerned at this - not fussed, exactly, slightly more intense, the colours of his thoughts swishing together more vigorously. << How can you not know? There must be an answer, or how else do you pick? >>
Ilesyn dips her paddle into the oil again, grumbling, "I'm only fretting because it means it takes him twice as long to eat anything, since he's too busy looking at the stuff."
Nallath senses Caledoth pauses again, then protests, << It simply feels correct! >>
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath huffs. << But how can a 'feeling' make something so? A feeling is only a feeling, not something solid at all. >>
"I hear that," Osasune says, whuffling. "We would be finished by now if he hadn't suddenly decided he only wanted the best."
Nallath senses Caledoth huffs back. << Nonsense. It is correct, just as it was correct for you to seek out your rider, and me mine. >>
"He'd rather watch it than eat it," adds Ilesyn, nodding slowly, from behind Nallath's sturdy build. "You'd think that you'd be able to understand someone who was in your head, but you can't. I can't."
You sense that Nallath senses Nallath's snort remains dignified; he is /that/, to a fault. << Things are not just correct for no reason. Ilesyn was mine, because she suits me. She /needs/ me. Besides which, she's beautiful. That's important. >>
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath's snort remains dignified; he is /that/, to a fault. << Things are not just correct for no reason. Ilesyn was mine, because she suits me. She /needs/ me. Besides which, she's beautiful. That's important. >>
"Does that bother you?" Osasune inquires, almost absently. She scritches Caledoth's eyeridge as the blue chomps down on a hunk of meat, blood squirting out of the corners of his mouth.
Nallath senses Caledoth considers this, and then says, a little more gray, << We could ask advice. Surely an older dragon would know. >>
Ilesyn hesitates, her nose wrinkling. "Yes," she says, eventually. "I want to help him get over these things, but I can't understand him."
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath considers the proposal, and sends out a soft extention of deep red - tacit agreement. << Indeed. Who shall we ask? >>
Nallath senses Caledoth ponders, grey and green swirling before parting. << Perhaps one who spoke to us earlier. >>
You sense that Caledoth senses Nallath's mind comes up with a name - Sylviath - and a questioning note? << That one? >>
Osasune digs around for another good piece. "Hmmmn. Well, I'm told they'll outgrow some things, but not others. I guess in some cases, we'll just have to accept little... quirks?"
Nallath senses Caledoth replies with enthusiasm. << Just so! >>
You sense that Sylviath, and Caledoth sense Nallath's mind touch reaches forwards, deep reds questioning as the nudge at Sylviath. << Sylviath? Can you answer a very vexing question for us? >>
Sylviath, and Nallath sense Caledoth ventures carefully, green and grey muted. << Excuse us a moment, but we have decided that we would like to seek an answer to our question from a wiser, older dragon. >>
Caledoth, and Nallath sense Sylviath says softly, calmly, <
Ilesyn swallows thickly. "Quirks. Yes, indeed." She's gone very silent - very thoughtful - as she continues to paddle the oil over Nallath, whose attention is still focused upon Caledoth, and his every move.
You sense that Caledoth, and Sylviath sense Nallath seems pleased, and queries, very calmly, << What makes some pieces of meat better than others? How can we /know/ what is best? It isn't just a /feeling/, is it? >>
Caledoth chews carefully - with exaggerated care, even. He will not fail at chewing! Osa smiles a little. "Right. Like we have quirks."
Nallath senses Caledoth adds, << Why are the juicy and big ones best? >>
Sylviath, and Nallath sense Caledoth adds, << Why are the juicy and big ones best? >>
Nallath, with exaggerated care, settles himself down upon the floor, wings outstretching so that Ilesyn can get to the itchy spots down his neck and back. "Well, yes. Except, I don't think /his/ thing is just a quirk. That's why I have to work at it."
"What's his thing? Asking lots of questions and trying to understand things?" Osasune inquires, corners of her lips twitching.
Ilesyn nods, quickly, as she works. "Wanting to understand /everything/."
"You like to understand things, too," Osasune says with a gentle smile. "Don't you?"
"People, not things," explains Ilesyn. "I try to /help/ people. He just wants to know, for the sake of knowing."
Osasune waves one hand a little, bloody bits spraying. "Couldn't that be a place to start, though? To start understanding him?"
Ilesyn wrinkles her nose, head tilting to the side. "Perhaps," she admits. "I don't know. He's so-- different. Intelligent, but not in the same way as you or I."
"Well, he's not human," Osasune murmurs. "I think Caledoth is smart, too. I mean, they're much smarter than we were as babies."
Nallath nudges at Ilesyn, since she seems to be dropping off on the whole oiling thing, not to mention the fact taht she's talking about him. "Well, no. But-- I don't know. Yes, they are."
Nallath, and Caledoth sense Sylviath projects << I have thought long on this. Each thing we may eat is different, and therefore the taste is different. And the texture. >>
"Really amazing," Osasune sighs. "But we're all pretty gushy mushy about it, huh."
You sense that Caledoth, and Sylviath sense Nallath considers. << But what makes some better than others? I still do not understand this, though I thank you for your candour, Sylviath. >>
Sylviath, and Nallath sense Caledoth projects << exclaims, greens brightening, << What wonderful advice! >> >>
Ilesyn mutters something beneath her breath, nodding. "I guess we are."
Nallath, and Caledoth sense Sylviath projects << Some things we eat have aged. A beast that is too old is stringy, and the meat is harder to chew. The younger ones are usually sweeter and more tender. Beasts that run hard and are scared will be tougher, too. >>
You sense that Caledoth, and Sylviath sense Nallath projects << Ah! >> This, it seems, strikes Nallath as more important; fluted thoughts, touched in red and brilliant blue, delight in it. << Of course. It is that, of course. My sincere thanks, Sylviath. >>
Sylviath, and Nallath sense Caledoth projects << Oh, yes. Very well explained! >>
Osasune smiles a little. "Sorry. Didn't mean to - well, um, right." She tries to flash a bright smile, then eyes Caledoth. "You're a mess now," she sighs. "Time for another bath, I'm sure."
Ilesyn shakes her head, apparently unconcerned - mostly - and turns her attention back to Nallath, who seems to be drooping slightly.
Osasune smiles, and adds, "I'm glad you're here, Ilesyn."
Ilesyn hesitates, glancing up from Nallath. "Uh," she says, blankly. "Uh, thanks. I guess I'm glad you're here, too, if I am." If she has to be? She pauses, smiling somewhat hesitantly.
Osasune smiles back at Ilesyn. "And Gretta, too," she says, lugging the meat bucket over to another Weyrling whose green has just woken up and started creeling.
"And-- yeah." Ilesyn nods. "I sort of missed everyone's Impressions. Didn't realise, at first, who was here." Her nose wrinkles, as she helps Nallath slip into his couch - though she stays out of it, sitting down at one of the tables again.
Osasune makes her way back to Caledoth, lugging another bucket - this with water - and a washcloth. The midnight blue croons as she begins to clean his head of blood. "Same here," she says. "I wasn't so terribly long after you. Which is good, because those sands were /hot/."
Ilesyn, heedless of the fact that her hands are both bloody and oily, draws her knees up towards her chest, arms wrapped about them. "They were," agrees Ilesyn, in remembrance. "But I didn't get to see as much of it as I wanted to. I mean, that was the /purpose/. Observing all of you. I didn't even catch a glimpse of most of the Impressions."
"There will be other Hatchings," Osasune says, smiling still.
"Yes," agrees Ilesyn. "But I shan't be so close."
"You'll be very close if you're weyrling staff, like C'daer," Osasune sing-songs.
Ilesyn's nose wrinkles. "I wouldn't like that. I don't want to be anything but a normal rider. I don't even /want/ to be a rider. What about you?"
Osasune snorts a little as she giggles. "Me? We'll see if I can handle be a regular rider first."
Ilesyn laughs. "Yeah, that's about the sum of it." A yawn is stiffled - then another. "I'm going to go nap. With him." Funny: she never does say his name. "I'll see you later, I guess."
"Hard to miss me," Osa agrees. "Have a good nap, Ilesyn. Nallath."
"Uh, yeah. Good luck with Caledoth." And then she's gone - shuffling into the couch-and-cot area, where she settles herself quietly.
You step into the depression of Nallath's couch.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:57 PM