Ilesyn's straps go clunk as she more or less drags them upon the ground beneath her heals; Nallath strides ahead, wings twitching about his sides. She comes to a halt, shortly after he does - though his stop is in order for him to nudge, with his nose, a particularly interesting piece of jagged stone. "Oh, stop that," she mutters.
Into one of the rare clear days of this fall, Daer steps out of the weyrs and directly into a mud puddle. With a quiet curse he advances onward, catching sight of Avila, calling to her. "It's group three for the initial manned flight today, right? And two for the practice on landings?"
Osasune emerges from the barracks with Caledoth, looking over her straps as she walks. The blue stops and croons, and she stops walking at the same time. "We're here for landing practice! Still a little jouncey. No, I know. I know. No - hey."
Avila is waiting, rather impatiently. She's got a roster in her hand, and her long stick in the other, tapping the ground in a stacatto rhythm. Really annoying. Glancing up, she sweeps her hand across the arriving weyrlings. "Line up. Group three over here. Group Two on this side. I hope you've been practicing, because this is one of the most highly dangerous days of your young lives." Turning, she smiles brightly. "Oh, yes, C'daer. There and there." She points with her stick. "No fatalities so far, but I really don't see how our luck can hold much longer."
Daer rolls his eyes surreptitiously, and folds his arms across his chest to survey the weyrlings. "No," he answers pointedly, "no -fatalities-, but what about the numerous gashes, bruises, contusions, broken bones, and that one concussion? Hmm? Oh, good - Come along, Osasune," he calls her way, and, "Hold those straps off the mud, Ilesyn!"
Ilesyn, evidently part of group three, is almost reluctant to join the others, though Nallath's in posession of more enthusiasm. "Yes, yes," she mutters, evidently in response to C'daer. "Whatever."
Osasune starts to trot over to the Group Two position, Caledoth trundling along behind her. "Lack of fatalities is good."
Avila shrugs a shoulder. "Well, Hinia did lose an awful lot of blood the other day. But the healers say she'll eventually recover. It's not as damning as that awful red mark on our records though. Injuries eventually get erased off when they recover. So... I guess it's going well." With a smile, she turns to the group and claps her hand merrily. "So! Who here is ready to learn to fly?"
"What, you spilled blood on the records?" C'daer niggles back, and looks over the row of weyrlings. "Avila, I do hope you're not going to treat them like four year olds forever. And don't dare forget to check their straps first." That said, he eyes off towards group two. "All right, you lot check your straps and mount up."
"Me, I guess." Ilesyn's enthusiasm is catchy - watch out! "Oh /stop/. No. /No/." That must be directed towards Nallath.
Osasune resumes looking over her straps, head bobbing, then slings them onto Caledoth and starts to buckle them up. She clambers up after one last look.
Osasune climbs up onto Caledoth's back.
Kourieth lands a distance down the field, and ambles towards the groups somewhat sheepishly.
Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune buckles herself in, nodding. "Ready, Weyrlingmaster!" she announces. Caledoth seems to perk a little, holding his head higher.
Ilesyn puts Nallath's straps on, without much enthusiasm; the brown does his best to sit very still, and be patient, while she struggles through the exercise.
C'daer gives Kourieth a version of his Weyrlingmaster Stare, and clears his throat. "All right! Group three, hold out your straps for inspection. Group two, go ahead one by one and start practicing your landings. Simple landings in the square," he indicates a large, marked-out square, "first. Oh, Ilesyn, I didn't mean your group," he says as he notes her actions. "Gotta check yours first."
Ilesyn's face falls. Dramatically. She positively glares at C'daer, as, very slowly - deliberately so - she pulls the straps off of Nallath. "Oh."
Mounted on Caledoth, "I did that, too!" Osasune calls out in Ilesyn's direction helpfully. Well, it's probably intended to be helpful. She's hanging on as Caledoth's butt wiggles a bit, and then the blue launches upwards, dark wings spreading and beating about four times before he tries to land in the square. He manages to be about half in, half out, and Osasune rocks back and forth in her seat.
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth watches, and volunteers, << Think of the square as a big, juicy wherry, and pretend that you're very, very, very hungry. >>
Kourieth senses Caledoth projects << Oh! Of course! What a wonderful idea! Thank you, good fellow. >>
Returning a sweet smile to Ilesyn, Daer and an assistant work down the line of strap inspections. Ilesyn's pass without comment, and the weyrlingmaster hollers, "Group three, strap them up and mount. You've been practicing for ages, so don't even think about being clumsy or it's double duty."
Not helpful. Not at all. Ilesyn's all glowers, now, even towards Osasune - and C'daer fares even worse, as he inspects her straps. The second attempt at strapping up goes no faster than the first, and Nallath goes impatient, though he is, it can be noted, rather fascinated with staring at his new pet rock, and nudging at it with his great muzzle. She mounts, equally reluctantly, without a word towards Nallath.
Ilesyn clings to Nallath's straps as she scrambles up his Polished Mahogany Brown forelimb, settling between two of his front neckridges.
Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune's too busy keeping her seat as Caledoth engages in a weird sort of trot away from the square before galloping and launching himself skywards again. Flap flap flap flap, turn, turn, turn, POUNCE! Down he goes onto the square, smack dab in the middle, but forepaws first and with force. Osasune grimaces at the impact of the landing. "Umn, gently. Gently. The ground is not actually a herdbeast. Yes. Herdbeasts and herdbeasts and grounds are grounds and... well, no, that's /pretending/, she informs the air, eyes rolled upwards beseechingly. Caledoth hrrrmphs.
Kourieth watches Caledoth's progress with great interest, giving a half-satisfied, half-irritated snort. "All right, group three," Daer says to them, hands on hips. "Launch from hindquarters, three or four flaps, land. You riders, just hang on and let the dragon do his thing this first time." He points out a green, then another green, then a third green, and after they've all flown, Ilesyn's included in the next round.
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth hints, << But, uhm, remember that your -rider- doesn't like raw herdbeast much. >>
From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn's expression turns even more dark - murderously so, in truth - as she's forced to wait, and wait some more. Nallath's perfectly content, but then again, he /would/ be, being as distracted as he is. When it's /finally/ his turn, he pushes off from his powerful hindquarters, flaps three times, and then lands, rather heavily. Ilesyn's not heavy, but she's certainly more than he's used to - and she rather bounces a little, jolted around. "Ow. Idiot." He huffs at her. Moron.
Kourieth senses Caledoth emits a mental sigh, a sort of ripping grey and brown. << I suppose. >>
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth muses, and amends, << Unless your rider is very different from mine. In any case, do try to jolt her around a little less. Pretend, well, pretend you're landing on water. Smooth like. >>
Kourieth senses Caledoth projects << Oh! But I have never landed on water. >>
Avila sniffs, watching the pair. "She must be crushed, not doing all that well right in front of you, C'daer" She jabs a finger Ilesyn's way. "I'll bet you're not particularly impressed. It'll probably upset her no end thinking that she disappointed you." Avila steps forward, with a little encouraging wave. "C'daer liked it, Ilesyn!" She turns and winks. "Not to encourage her crush, but...well... if it keeps us from having dead weyrlings and J'van on our back, it's a small sacrifice, no?"
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth, taken aback, answers after a moment, << Oh. Well. It's softer. And wetter. >>
C'daer eyes Avila, the corners of his lips tensing. Amusement, possibly, or embarrassment; he's trying to keep his reaction neutral. "Go get Elaesyth strapped up," he tells her. "We'll take them all up for a round of the bowl. Two and three. I'd like you to take group two a bit higher, though, and let them play in the winds a bit."
From the lower bowl sky, Elaesyth wings in from Weyr shared by Avila and Green Elaesyth.
Elaesyth wings in from the central sky.
Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune nods, patting Caledoth's neck twice before the blue launches upward; he does okay for taking off. Beating his wings, he soars higher, eyes whirling blue-green.
From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn opens her mouth to blurt something, but bites it back - physically biting at her lip to avoid saying it, though her gaze remains bitterly unimpressed. She's even more tetchy than usual - perhaps it's that time of the month, or perhaps she's just feeling that way. Hunching her shoulders, she glares towards Nallath's neckridges, all but boring holes in the straps that hold her in.
Avila nods, then trots over to her dragon, expertly tightening the straps, muttering to herself. "After all, it says in The Guide to Ultimate Weyrlingmastering that you should use every tactic for encouragement. I personally think that that's a particularly good one for Ilesyn..." Elaesyth swings her head around and snorts in agreement, as Avila swings up and mounts. "Ready, C'daer. The winds are a bit unpredictable today, so I'll keep them out in the middle. Remember what happened a few turns back, when one of the weyrlings got too close to the bowl wall and then got caught in an updraft. Splat!" Avila smacks her hands together with a dour look. "It nearly gave the old woman napping in the weyr just below the impact a heart attack, too. They flashed into between as they were sliding down the wall, and were never seen again... just over there." She points, then smiles brightly to the weyrlings. "Well! Ready to go?"
Caledoth wobbles in a thermal, Osasune's eyes popping wide with surprise. She's luckily too far up to hear Avila's horrible horrible story.
Checking Kourieth's straps hastily, Daer mounts up and swivels his head in a half-circle to check on all the weyrlings. "Right, Avila," he mutters, half to himself, with another eloquent rolled-eye plea to the heavens. "Watch your airspace up there," he yells to the first-timers, "stay at least three dragonlengths apart." With that, Kourieth launches.
Sweeping streaks of gold-orange, rust-red pour over Kourie's hide between your legs; his neck before you is the same streaking, until near his head they seem to blend to russet bronze, for your eyes cannot separate the colors from this distance.
Forearm out, Kourieth steadies his attention on you long enough to let you mount.
Beyond the bronze, Avila climbs onto Elaesyth's neck.
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn rolls her eyes at Avila's story; she's uninclined to really listen. In fact, she's really not inclined to do anything but glower -- particularly at Nallath's exuberant, rich warble, as he lifts off into the air. Jolted around about on takeoff, Ilesyn's expression does not change. Ho hum.
Beyond the bronze, Elaesyth bunches her hidequarters and effortlessly launches into the air. Avila is almost noncholant as she swings her head around, taking stock of the weyrlings. "Back off from Hilloth, there... that's a little too close now. Ch'lin? Is your dragon getting tired? If so, take him down."
Beyond the bronze, Elaesyth wings upwards to the the lower bowl sky.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth follows after the others, winging his way into the line.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth wings upwards to the the lower bowl sky.
Beyond the bronze, Nallath wings upwards to the the lower bowl sky.
You wing upwards to the the lower bowl sky.
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Kourieth takes over as mouthpiece for Daer, given winds and distance; << We will simply make a large circle. Group three, you are instructed to look about and note the location and direction of things on the ground. >>
Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath's touch - rich with shadowed wine, soft darkness - asserts an acceptance of this, an image projected of all that he sees, with rather too much emphasis upon the starstones above.
Beyond the bronze, From Elaesyth's neck, Avila hangs back to be the last person on the line. Easier to keep an eye on everything this way. Elaesyth is content to keep quiet, not to confuse the youngsters, you see. She's much more intent on watching that they're keeping proper distance and being safe.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth soars merrily, bugling every once in a while - happy, happy, happy now that he's getting his way and flying. Osasune peers about herself, smiling, hair blowing about.
Beyond the bronze, Nallath beats his wings carefully, gaining something of a smooth gait as he gets used to the weight of Ilesyn upon his back. The weyrling, her gaze focused upon nothing but the neckridge in front of her, crouches lower, ignoring the wind in her hair, and the steady motion of the brown's neck beneath her. There seems to be another disagreement going on between them, for her lips move every so often, even if words are impossible to catch through the fierce winds.
Beyond the bronze, Kourieth soars, wings outspread, for the youngsters' slower, more awkward flight. Careful, he turns into the initial bend to circle the bowl, the older riders avoiding the weyrlings easily.
You sense that Nallath senses Kourieth seeks through the first-time group and asks, << Where are the hunting grounds from here? That's an easy one. >>
Kourieth senses Nallath extends his tendril of thought towards all of his group, expressing an image of the feeding grounds towards the southwest -- there!
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn's voice is raised - though still not quite audible through the winds - and Nallath's trumpet is not entirely thrilled. Even so, his wingbeats remain mostly fluid, if wavering at times with a lack of practice, and he follows the motion around as best he can.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth tries to make a tighter turn and bugles his triumph merrily, reveling in his comparative manuverability to the bigger dragons - but beating his wings faster to keep up.
Beyond the bronze, Kourieth wings on around the bowl, the one class tagging along behind him as the others lift and test their wings. Coming up again towards the weyrling area, they slow appreciably and Daer lifts his hand to gesture descent.
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn sits in stony silence - but apparently she's won her battle, for rather than descend with the rest, Nallath lifts higher, stretching upwards. His wings widen, and he pulls, gaining speed.
You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Kourieth instructs by rote, not yet noticing Nallath's AWOL, << Those with Elaesyth's group can stay up longer unless tired; the rest descend. >>
Fort weyrling dragons sense Nallath does not respond, though his presence holds a difficult, uncomfortable silence - he continues to lift, higher and faster.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth starts to descend, but once he realizes he's allowed to stay up, he ascends again. Osasune's forehead wrinkles as she watches a brown split off and start going upwards. "Uh oh," she mumbles into the wind. "No, not you, too."
C'daer turns between bronze neckridges, counting the weyrlings behind him - his forehead wrinkles as he counts again quickly, then he yells, "IL-E-SYN!" The cry flies out on the wind, and Kourieth's flight slows suddenly as he prepares to turn after her.
You sense that Nallath senses Kourieth, tense, << Get down here right now. >>
Kourieth senses Nallath, hesitant. << She wants-- I /don't/. >> Then, a break. << Ow. >>
Kourieth senses Caledoth cheerfully tattles. << Nallath's rider has said that she wants to go up alone! >>
You sense that Nallath senses Kourieth reaches out, trying to sense what the matter is, and a stronger command, << Down! Above me! >>
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn does not turn - she's steadfast in ignoring C'daer, leaning further forward. Nallath, however, is interrupted; he lunges forward, his wing goes taut, and then loose, and he slips in the air, teetering downwards, lopsided in his attempts to regain control.
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth acknowledges, withdraws, tenseness felt loosely through the bond.
Beyond the bronze, Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune makes a face, peering upwards and mumbling something.
Kourieth senses Nallath projects pain - a sharp, pulling sensation; foreign to the brown, but not something he likes. Sparing no time for words, a single thought of agreement is sent.
Beyond the bronze, Kourieth brakes abruptly, lifting upward so that the young dragons bypass beneath; Daer bellows, "Avila, take them," as the bronze wheels and wings frenetically, straining to intercept Nallath from below.
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn's expression, for the first time, turns to panic - her eyes grow wide, she turns back, she winces. Nallath's best efforts are put to use, as he attempts to control his descent towards Kourieth, pain evident through his strained rumble.
Beyond the bronze, Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune grimaces further, remembering to look away from Nallath and around at where the other dragons are.
Beyond the bronze, Underneath the young brown, Kourieth backwings once to hold position and then splays his wings wide, angling his head to watch Nallath's descent. C'daer's mumbling to himself under his breath as he likewise watches, hands anchored tightly - white - around his straps.
Beyond the bronze, From her spot between Nallath's neckridges, Ilesyn's panic is not invisible; her eyes are shut. Nallath, thankfully, has more control over the situation, and descends onto Kourieth as carefully and safely as he can, a faint sound resonating from his throat as the pressure of flight is released.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth's eyes whirl with distress, and he starts angling downwards to land as well. If Osasune's pursed lips and clenched fists are anything to judge by, she's the source of Caledoth's distress.
Beyond the bronze, Kourieth is jolted by the extra weight, but hurriedly rumbles reassurance as he glides carefully down, gently turning into the central bowl area. Daer yells something unintelligible, then shuts up.
You wing downwards to the center of the bowl.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth wings in from the central sky.
Beyond the bronze, Caledoth backwings for a landing, doing a little better but still bouncing Osa.
Beyond the bronze, Once safely landed, Nallath gingerly slides down from Kourieth, ending up upon the bowl floor again. Ilesyn is silent, though her eyes have opened again, and her nose is in the air.
Beyond the bronze, Kourieth's landing is rough, under the circumstances, and Daer turns out to be sweating profusely as he yanks off his straps and dismounts. "Where's he hurt," he demands of Ilesyn, roughly, "Get off him, let's get him into the infir - no, Osasune," he hollers, "go find a dragonhealer."
Beyond the bronze, Ilesyn clings to Nallath's neckridges as she scrambles gingerly down to the ground.
Making sure Kourieth knows you're dismounting, and so won't be distracted and move, you swing down carefully.
Center Bowl - Fort Weyr(#100RIJM) The bowl is roughly oblong, stretching from the northeast where the mountain ranges to its highest, to the southwest where the scar of an old earth slide gouges the stone of the caldera, the rock and dirt long settled where it landed in the lake. The lake is a large pool of water that cuts across most of the southern part of the bowl, butting up against a meadow and the feeding pens. Jagged rock points up into the sky over the northeast like a dragon's craggy tooth, sloping down sharply on either side. Southeast along the side of the slope the edge of the bowl rises a few meters where a small ledge for a Watchrider and the massive eye of the Star Stones resides -- the herald of a new Pass when it brackets the red star. To the west along the floor of the bowl is the field where weyrlings train and the large cavern that houses them. South of field is the feeding grounds where the beasts are kept and the lake. Northeast almost directly below the 'Tooth Crag', is the large entrance to the Hatching Cavern. East is the wide entrance to the Living Cavern. North is the Weyrleader's complex as well as the ground weyrs of junior queens. The weyr bowl holds many hundreds of weyrs within its sharply defined boundaries. The rocky walls are shadowed with many levels of large caverns and ledges, gouged from the stone. The setting of the sun in the partly cloudy sky warms the light to a golden hue as the angled rays send shadows leaping across the Weyr. The moons and stars peek out between patches of clouds that dot the sky overhead. The winds are light, and the fall air is frigid. Contents: Ilesyn Caledoth Nallath Kourieth(#600abeq$) Obvious exits: Northeast Bowl Southwest Bowl Living Cavern INFirmary Weyrling Field
You sense that Nallath senses Kourieth's somewhat tentative, asking now, << How are you hurt, where? >>
Mounted on Caledoth, Osasune nods to C'daer, eyes unfocusing for a moment. And then Caledoth's leaping into the air, flapping his wings and soaring toward the other end of the bowl.
Kourieth senses Nallath struggles, attempting to isolate the pain - his mind seethes with it, rippling through his touch, as, finally, he projects an image of his right wing, and the junction between tendons and bones there.
Kourieth senses Caledoth reports, << My rider says that Gdeth says he saw Fiana working in the northern bowl not to long ago. We go to fetch her. >>
"Here," says Ilesyn, promptly, indicating the junction between wing and torso, on Nallath's right side. There's a montonous note in her voice - as if she's isolated herself from the experience. She's still very, very pale, however.
You sense that Caledoth senses Kourieth hurries to reply, << Good. Numbweed with her if she has it. >>
C'daer hurries up, not quite running, to inspect the area; he stands back, doesn't touch. "We'll have a dragonhealer here in a minute," he says tersely. "Don't agitate him."
Caledoth comes winging back shortly with a portly woman with greying hair mounted behind Osasune. He makes a hurried, jouncing landing, which makes both of his passengers wince. The woman - Fiana - clambers off him and trots over toward Nallath, clutching a large pot of numbweed.
Osasune dismounts Caledoth.
"I'm not." Ilesyn's almost defensive in that, standing back, though her gaze rests upon Nallath's head, watching his eyes with a wary worriedness. "He says it hurts."
"Of course he does," Daer almost snaps towards Ilesyn, and waves at the dragonhealer. "This portion here - probably a bad sprain," then he backs off to let her work, gesturing Ilesyn to get out of the way. Noting Osasune again, he says a hasty, "Thanks."
"Here?" Fiana inquires, holding the pot of numbweed out to Ilesyn like she expects the Weryling to take it. "You'll want to apply numbweed to the area. I'll need a closer look, I think, but numbweed right now." Osasune follows a little more slowly, rubbing her hands together fretfully. She nods to C'daer.
Ilesyn merely nods, very slowly, accepting the numbweed from the Dragonhealer, then taking another step closer. "Uh, yes. All right." Nallath's eyes whirls, another pained croon escaping from his throat. "Oh, hush. You're not dying or anything."
C'daer moves up behind Fiana's shoulder. "Grounding?" he enquires in an anxious voice, then coaches, "Slap it on there, don't be shy, Ilesyn," with a definite note of sternness and things-to-come in his voice.
Ilesyn patently avoids glancing back at C'daer, as she rapidly follows his instructions, doing her best to coat the area with numbweed - although it makes her sneeze, as it always has done.
Fiana nods, peering at Nallath and frowning. "Grounding until further notice, yes. Need to get a better look. Is he feeling a little better? We'll go. Slowly. To the infirmary."
"Nallath can go ahead, Ilesyn, I'd like a word with you," the Weyrlingmaster says, stepping aside. "Thank you very much, Dragonhealer." Kourieth watches from several yards back, eyes whirling rapidly.
Ilesyn, already making to leave, stops short and turns around. "Yes, Weyrlingmaster." Her chin goes in the air again.
Fiana nods, turning to head off with Nallath.
Osasune frets a little more, peering back at Caledoth and trotting over to start removing his gear.
C'daer crosses his arms and stands, trying to loom, though his voice almost remains deceptively placid. "What, exactly, was that?"
Ilesyn takes a deep breath. "I needed some time alone. He was coping fine. He said he could cope with it, even if he didn't like breaking the rules." She's calm.
Osasune unbuckles her straps and winces.
"And you like breaking rules, I take it?" Daer looks Ilesyn up and down, and says stonily, "You are assigned to muckpit cleaning duty for ten days, for endangering yourself. Ten more days, for endangering your dragon. And ten days of infirmary chores, for the extra work you've just made for the dragonhealers."
"Only when it's for the mental well being of a person," retorts Ilesyn - rather more sharply than might be advisable. "As you wish."
Osasune turns about, leading Caledoth toward the barracks again.
C'daer pauses. "Oh, I'm not done," he says smarmily, although he was until that point. "You're restricted to the inside of the weyr until your dragon is completely healed and you've finished your twenty days of mucking duty." Kourieth croons quietly as Caledoth passes.
Ilesyn gives a shrug of her shoulders. "Fine." She shuts her mouth, but can't help it; she continues, to add, "Obviously, you don't care about the mental well being of your weyrlings. May I go and see to my lifemate, now?"
C'daer's eyebrows jump up his forehead. "Go," he commands, curtly. "And watch your mouth."
"As you wish." Ilesyn glances back at C'daer once, shakes her head, and shuffles towards the infirmary.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 05:04 PM