January 31, 2004
Nhiameth's first flight.

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You head through the narrow tunnel and into the bustling living caverns.

B'myr grins, "Well good afternoon Shiae ... how are you doing today? Care to join me for a drink?" He salutes her with his wine glass before sipping some down and motioning to the profusion of chairs around him.

Shiae blinks, bemused, but settles with a wince into one of the chairs near the end of the table. "I'll sit, thank you. I'm fine, Carianth's fine... Nhiameth's fine?" She looks back out into the rain, though she'd be hard-pressed to make out any details at this distance. "Isn't it a bit early for wine?"

It must be one of R'hyn's afternoons off - not only is there a laziness, a relaxation less likely to be in his step, but he's got one tiny hands of his little daughter in his, and the pair are walking together to the serving table. Admittedly, Rhyena stumbles a bit, and daddy has to walk v e r y s l o w l y -- but they make a cute, if wet, pair. "Wait a moment, Rhyena. Let daddy pour some juice."

B'myr ahhs, "Good to hear that you and Carianth are fine, Nhiameth is doing wonderfully, her skin has just the right shine, though the oil is coming off a bit in the rain." Taking a bemused look at his wine glass he chuckles, "Usually I might say yes but I had a craving for it I just couldn't resist."

Noon already vanished, the summer day lingers in the early afternoon. A blanket of gray clouds cloaks the skies: Rain might be forthcoming but, for now, the air is still and humid. Being summertime, it's humid and uncomfortable. (83F, 28C)

"I understand," Shiae agrees solemnly, though with a quirk of one corner of her mouth. R'hyn's voice brings her head around - slowly, thank you - and her smile broadens at seeing the pair of them. "Afternoon, R'hyn. Care to leave her here a moment while you go get that juice?" Yes, the formidable Weyrsecond is offering to watch a child. Probably knows she can hook the end of a cane around Rhyena's ankle and yank before the baby can get too far.

Or maybe she's just gone senile.

R'hyn turns, apparently noticing both greenriders for the first time. "Oh! Afternoon Shiae, B'myr. Er, if you could? I don't want her grabbing at anything and burning herself." Awful trusting of him. He leans down into a crouch, so as to be on a better eye level with his two-and-a-half-turn-old offspring: "Stay here with Aunty Shiae, Rhyena. Mind her, please! I'll be back soon." Standing again, he asks the adults, "Can I get you anything, while I'm up?"

B'myr nods toward Shiae, a bit of a wink following her smirk though his doesn't seem quite so understandable as hers does. Holding up his wine glass toward R'hyn he smiles, "I'm good, but thank you very much, it's appreciated."

Shiae grimaces at that 'aunty' crack, but holds out an arm for Rhyena to hold nonetheless. "Just juice, R'hyn, whatever you're having." To B'myr, "Did you have the dragonhealers look at her, or did you decide not to do that?"

R'hyn gives Rheyna one last glance - a somewhat stern one, though his face positively melts as he turns, trotting off to the serving tables. "Juice it is!" he calls back, hurriedly filling two mugs with juice, and gathering up a handful of napkins. Rhyena grabs for the end of one of Shiae's canes, bapping it curiously.

B'myr shakes his head, "I decided they didn't need to, or she decided she didn't want to, I think we came to a truce on that one. She's glowing just beautifully though, such a gorgeous green if this rain wasn't dampening it."

Shiae says, "She's lovely, B'myr, and I know what I'm speaking about." Without seeming to pay attention to the toddler still she tugs gently on the cane, almost - but not quite - removing it from Rhyena's greedy fingers. Ack! It's trying to escape! "If there's anything I can help with, let me know, all right?"

Rhyena reasserts her presence on the end of the cane, and pulls harder, more determined now. /Her/ toy. R'hyn arrives a few moments later, peering at her, but not commenting, as he sets the juice on the table, head turned to listen to the adult conversation. He pushes Shiae's mug towards her, wrapping his fingers about his own.

B'myr beams, like a proud mother when Shiae agrees on Nhiameth's beauty. "I'll let you know but I don't think there's anything right now, she's just fine really ..." She's just fine but B'myr's words are getting speedy and slightly mixed together because of this. Another reason he hasn't been successful in keeping much company.

Shiae nods her thanks to R'hyn but doesn't reach for her juice. Both her hands are full, one tugging on the cane and the other holding the edge of the table to keep her as still as possible. "If there is, though." Her eyes flick between the two men before she adds lightly, "Oh R'hyn, did you hear? I think Nhiameth's proddy."

Shiae just looked at you

R'hyn, without a word, reaches down to pry Rhyena's fingers from the cane, and scoop her up into his lap. "Let's leave Aunty Shiae's cane alone so she can have her snack, too, Rhy," he murmurs, jiggling her a little. "Oh, really?" He says, in a more adult voice, glancing from Shiae to B'myr. "Well, that's fine news, right? Good to get it over and done with. You look well, B'myr." His face has turned, very slightly, pink.

B'myr eyes Shiae for a moment, but his good humor doesn't fade. "Thank you," he offers her quietly. And now his attention is toward R'hyn, "Guess soo ... not sure when it will be over." Giving his own clothes a looking over he shrugs, "It's nice of you to say but I should have put something a bit nicer on today."

Shiae offers pleasantly, "Well, I have a lovely gather gown you can borrow, but I think it'd be a bit tight across the shoulders." Yes, she's still smirking, but it's a 'share your pain' sort of way. "Arisvath still interested in greens, R'hyn? --I ask purely from curiosity, of course. --And if you tell E'van that I let you call me Aunty Shiae, I'll make sure you're on dawn sweeps until Rhyena Impresses." She delivers the threat(?) in the same level, pleasant tones as the rest of it, and either man could miss her quick wink.

R'hyn makes a peculiar choking/laughing sound, which ends in a hiccup, and Rhyena's curious glance. "Erm," says R'hyn, "You look fine, B'myr. Good, even. Don't fret. Yes, he's still interested in greens - prefers Niaryth above any dragon, but he likes the greens, too. I, er," He pushes his mug out of reach of Rhyena's flailing reach. "Will keep that our little secret, I promise. So, uh, you have no idea when she'll rise, B'myr?"

B'myr laughs slighlty at Shiae and waves off the offer. A slightly worried look crosses his face before he realizes that R'hyn is laughing and nods, "again, appreciated." Another sip of wine fortifies him and then approaches the question. "She's been getting worse over the week, refuses to get out of the rain right now, wants to be seen, I think she's thinking about eating soon ... I'd have a better idea if I'd been through this before."

"First time's always the hardest," Shiae agrees, playing with her juice mug instead of drinking it. "If I had to guess, going from what I've seen of her... hrm. I'd say soon. Within a day or two. It'll be nice to be able to leave the Weyr, won't it?"

"Soon?" R'hyn swallows, "As in, this afternoon, soon, or in the next day or two, soon?" He's glancing down at Rhyena, almost nervously - she is reaching for his mug again, so he picks it up, dribbling as little as possible into her mouth, and, unfortunately, all over her face.

Shiae only shrugs. "Can't tell. Within the next day or two soon. Any more than that..." Another shrug. "I'm no dragonhealer." She studies B'myr as if he were some sort of interesting insect. "What do you think, B'myr? How is she feeling?"

B'myr nods toward Shiae, "I hope soon ..." Absently he rubs his forehead and looks slightly confused by Shiae's last comment, "What about leaving the Weyr?" R'hyn gets an absent shrug, "Really thinking it over I'd say pretty soon ..." He nods toward Shiae. "Very soon."

R'hyn's expression slides into a grimace, "Sorry, B'myr, but that's not all that helpful. Oh well -- whatever will happen, will happen." The pinkness has not left his face. He jiggles Rhyena again, using a clean napkin to wipe at her hands.

Shiae shakes her head at the pair, father and daughter, and stands. "That's no good, R'hyn, she's all over sticky. C'mon, Rhyena, let's you and me go get your face washed, all right?" A grunt as she pushes herself up from the chair and ta-da! Standing. She even goes so far as to hook one cane over an arm, and only use one to brace herself. Such a rebel.

B'myr shrugs, smile reinstated. "I'm sorry R'hyn, if I could be any more helpful I would really ..."

R'hyn looks pleasantly surprised, even amid his distraction, and since Rhyena seems eager at getting near Shiae again (or is it just her canes?), he agrees, with a half smile. "I'd appreciate it, Shiae. Um. Thanks." Shoulders shrugging, as he hands Rhyena across, he says to B'myr, "No, no, it's fine. Not your fault."

Shiae, with a roll of her eyes, comes around to 'collect' Rhyena. Exhibit A, the -other- use for a cane: towing toddlers. Off they go to the infirmary, the pair of them equally steady on their feet.

Shiae slips in through the wooden door to the infirmary.

B'myr nods, "Just all very strange." Quietness comes and he sips at his wine glass, rubbing at his neck absently. Listening he makes out Nhiameth starting to croon a bit outside and he shakes his head.

R'hyn watches Shiae and Rhyena depart protectively, then, tilting his head to the side, notes, "Arisvath's interested. He keeps saying she's lovely." There's another of those faint blushes creeping about his face. "Ah well. Good to get the first one over with, and all. Nervous?"

B'myr blushes slightly, though the color is hard to see since his face is already red from wine. "Nhiameth is certainly happy for the attention. And yes it will be good to get it over with and yes, for too many reasons."

"I'm sure she is," laughs R'hyn, sipping at his juice, sticky hands squeaking against the ceramic mug. "It won't be too bad. How's wing life? Have you properly settled in, now?"

B'myr smiles brightly, "Wing life is good, still have a little bit of time to go down and check on the animals, I'm settled in and know everyone a bit better now. It's all fallen into being very normal ... other than this."

R'hyn's expression is pleased. "Oh, I'm glad," he admits. "It's such a... difficult time, sometimes. Settling in to being a rider. Knowing that this is your job, from now on. Daunting, I found."

Dragon> Nhiameth senses that Arisvath's voice is like a warm, fluffy towel - soothing and warming, and drawled to the edge of the finest dark brandy. << Good afternoon, Nhiameth. Your hide is very pretty, today. >> He's sincere, to the very tip of his touch.

Arisvath> F'niah slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Saneth, the Green lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the she hops to the ground.

Dragon> Arisvath senses that Nhiameth is smoothly feminine, with the slightly tilt to her voice. <> The slightly swish of her voice and tail end her thought.

Dragon> Nhiameth senses that Arisvath sounds pleased, and yet humbled, as though the fact that she would speak to him has made him complete. << Oh, Nhiameth! >>

Arisvath> Saneth drops out of the rainy sky with a perfunctory wing-flare. It's /wet/ here. His rider makes short work of unstrapping and sliding off, then hurrying inside with scarcely a look toward the other dragons.

F'niah comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.

Arisvath> Nhiameth streaches slowly in the rain, tossing her head and sending drops shedding off of her smoothly oiled skin.

B'myr smiles, "It was a bit rough but it all happened so quickly that I couldn't help but fall into it. I had plenty of time to think about it those times I got left standing."

Arisvath> Arisvath seems to be enjoying the rain -- though, it's true, more attention is placed upon Nhiameth than the wet; Saneth, too, earns only a courteous rumble of greeting, distracted at best.

Arisvath> Saneth hunches and flicks his wings - a vain attempt, as they're promptly as wet as before. His attention's caught by the green; consideration lights his eyes as he studies her, then gives the bronze a quick, dismissive look. That green - she's much nicer to look at.

"Guess /that/ is true enough," agrees R'hyn, nose wrinkling. "Being left standing-- well, at least she did find you, in the end." He smiles, a somewhat tight-lipped smile, and lifts his mug to his lips again. "Sticky. Ugh."

F'niah quicksteps into the 'caverns, hurrying to get in out of the rain. He stops immediately inside and brushes fingers through his hair. Water sprinkles everywhere and earns him a sharp glare from a passing serving woman. "Ah... Fort's um, duties to Ista and her queens?"

B'myr rubs his stomach absently, "She did find me, and she'd better eat something soon ... is she supposed to eat?" His eyes are wide and suddenly confused.

"Ista's to-- Fort's," says R'hyn, in a semi-loud voice, after a long and pregnant pause. "What brings a Fort bluerider to Ista?" It's not that his voice is cold, just-- distant, perhaps. He's immediately distracted again, glancing back at B'myr. "Blood, maybe. If it's time..."

B'myr nods, eyes distant, "Soon." The Fort rider gets a wave and a slight smile. "Hey."

If the Fortian bluerider is aware of the emnity between his Weyr and Ista, he glibly ignores it as he squelchily crosses to join the other men. "I had a - have a message for E'v - for your Weyrleader. Package, actually. S'a surprise." Pale green eyes dart between R'hyn and B'myr, linger there. "Uh... Shells." The lanky bluerider folds himself into a chair - without asking permission, the heathen! - but immediately bounces up again. "Maybe I, um... now isn't a good time? I'm, uh, F'niah. Saneth's. He's blue."

Arisvath> Saneth sidles Nhiameth's way, all his attention on the green. Arisvath could grow purple horns and turn into a can-can dancer, and the blue wouldn't even notice.

R'hyn hesitates a moment longer, then - ah, there, look: an honest smile. "Not sure where he is right now, but you could take it to the council room, maybe. Except that--" He turns back to glance at B'myr, grimacing - and there's the blush again. "May get caught up, I guess. Well met. Er, I'm R'hyn. Um, Arisvath's. Hi."

Arisvath> Nhiameth spreads out her wings slowly, the rain water sheeting off of them as she moves herself forward. A soft croon is starting and she's eyeing the the males around as well as increasing glances toward the feeding pens.

Arisvath> Arisvath doesn't grow horns - though the can-can dancer idea... No, not dignified enough. The bronze turns up his wings, flapping them once in expectation, then settles back down to watch Nhiameth in contented rapture. Mmmm-MMmm.

Arisvath> Saneth, hugely daring, lifts his own wings and sidles toward Nhiameth. Will she, won't she, will she let him drape his wings over her and cut the bronze out entirely?

B'myr is much more distracted by Nhiameth's side of things at this point, surprise message for E'van or no, the bluerider is getting some attention for other reasons. "I'm B'myr, Nhiameth is mine outside."

Arisvath> Nhiameth isn't ready to make any commitments, she sidles away a bit and moves toward the feeding grounds.

Arisvath> Arisvath's tail twitches. His shoulders tense, as do his hindquarters, lifting towards flight -- best to be prepared.

F'niah hovers, shifting from foot to foot. "I, um... she's... um..." Gaze flicks to R'hyn: help! then back as if magnetized. "Lovely. Saneth really likes her. She's, um... small. Smaller than him." Clenched fists open, then rub against his thighs. "He likes... shells."

F'niah mutters to herself, "... sound... wherry..."

R'hyn's expression nearly mimics F'niah's -- though it's red, and pink, and somehow, a little white as well, and he's staring at B'myr. "Guess that's that. Um. Blood, remember, B'myr? Gah. Glad Rhyena's-- gah." He grasps at the neck of his shirt, tugging at it.

Arisvath> Saneth's wings drop. Don't you love him, Nhiameth? Well, if wings failed to coax the green, perhaps... He croons at her instead.

F'niah says, "Shells, she's that close?" Of course she is, though the bluerider glances out into the bowl as if expecting to find Nhiameth suddenly and completely unproddy. "She, I, um..."

B'myr sets his wine glass down and chuckles, "She's the smallest in the Weyr, fine boned ... your blue is quite nice himself, Arisvath is too of course ... she's going to blood soon."

"Bad luck," sympathises R'hyn, though only with half his attention - maybe even just half a brain-cell, since he seems pretty much glued to the greenrider. "Yes, she is." R'hyn finally manages to get another button undone, and fanns himself. "She's beautiful. Hot. Sweet. Sexy." Gah.

F'niah takes in a deep breath, throwing his shoulders back. "Saneth's the right size," he declares in the tone of one who's had his entire brain leak out through his ears. "And so am I."

Arisvath> Nhiameth jumps toward the feeding grounds suddenly, tail wagging at the males.

Arisvath> Arisvath's body mass at least allows him to muscle past a couple of smaller dragons to take the first dive into the feeding grounds, scattering animals as his talons go snicker-snack, and a fine buck ends up disembowelled upon the earthen ground. The bronze bloods with the fervor of the converted, entrails left in his wake as he seeks out the rich, metallic fluids.

B'myr turns and sits on the table, "Keep control ... but shells." Slowly and absently he licks his lips and pushes his hair back from his face. "Sexy ... yes ... getting very warm ..."

"Arisvath's better," boasts R'hyn, without thinking, rising from his seat. His sticky hands are wiped over his breeches - he's already looking quite the mess.

Arisvath> Nhiameth has choosen a few large bucks for herself, blooding one then another before voicing a large and long screetch that's sure to draw every males attention as she wiggles her legs and gets ready to fly.

F'niah flops gracelessly back into his chair without looking to ensure the thing's still there. "I, uhm... Shells, Saneth, I dunno. There." His fingers grasp the edge of the table, his mind now far, far away. Just at the other end of the bowl, but worlds away.

Arisvath> Saneth's late to the party, but he has an excuse. He's never been here before. The small blue dives toward a wherry and just manages to bring it down, his own form disappearing behind a large brown. Nhiameth will just have to take it on faith that her most ardent admirer is still ready and oh so willing.

B'myr looks toward R'hyn, "Only if he catches, and you've seen her fly." His face is a broad grin with one hand fanning his face gently."

Arisvath> Arisvath's attention is caught, that's for sure. There's little time, though - he responds in softer kind, a determined croon, then blooding another beast, with a savagery unlike his usual demeanor. The blood flows, and flies, and he readies himself for flight with another flick of his wings, muscles tensing as the blood drains away.

R'hyn has an almost kindly glance for F'niah, but oh - he's competition, and this is one fight the bronzerider seems disinclined to lose. "Yes, but he /has/ seen her fly. He knows her patterns." Is that a salacious grin upon R'hyn's face? And where have all the blushes gone?

F'niah's fingers dig into the table's edge, the words of the others completely passing him by. "Saneth can outfly any bronze, any day!" Or not.

Arisvath> Nhiameth takes it on faith that all the dragons will be watching and leaving them just a moment to finish their blooding she streaches out her wings and returns Arisvath's croon, as well as offering noises to a few other choice chasers, Saneth can count himself included.

B'myr nods, "He has and as long as she uses those patterns ... SHELLS ... I don't care about patterns and flights and this fight ... whoever catches catches but she's going up NOW ... you hear me ... NOW." With a quick move he tosses back the last of the wine and puts the glass down just managing not to break it.

Arisvath> Saneth counts himself the only one, thank you. His head pops up over the brown's back to return the green's croon, blood smeared over muzzle and down neck. This one's not the tidiest of eaters. But he has nice wings, see?

F'niah has partially disconnected.

F'niah throws up his head, mimicing Saneth, his lips pulled back to display unbloody teeth (thank Faranth). "Saneth can outfly any bronze, any green, any day."

Arisvath> Nhiameth straightens her legs and rises.

Arisvath> Nhiameth wings up to the sky, leaving the feeding grounds behind her.

Arisvath> Saneth wings up to the sky, leaving the feeding grounds behind her.

"You wish." Dark is R'hyn's tone, as he hovers. Tensing, he adds, "We should get out of here."

Arisvath> You spring aloft into the sky over the Istan bowl.

B'myr tightens his hands in his hair, "Where do we go ... someone help me get out of here then!"

F'niah stands as if goosed, a hand reaching out over the table for B'myr. "I..." Oh, crap. See the Fortian have no idea where to go next. "The, um... is there a, a room? Or something?"

R'hyn grasps for B'myr's arm, if the greenrider will let him. "This way. Come on, I'll show you." He looks a little dizzy, and his first step is quavery, as if he's so caught up in flight that walking is a difficult task.

Arisvath> Saneth shoots up after the green, his small size useful in getting him ahead of all those ungainly bronzes and browns. Ha-hah! Of a sudden his concentration's broken and he looks back and down as if searching for... but wait, no. Unluckily his slip's allowed several other dragons to surge past him.

B'myr lets himself be grabbed, "Thank you ..."

Arisvath> Arisvath's too large to get a quick start, but he's got power behind him, and reaches and pulls each stroke of air with determination, if not grace. The water slicks down upon him, slowing his path; it makes flying more treacherous, but that's not exactly what he's paying attention to, right now. Upwards and onwards - to Nhiameth, but not beyond.

You head out through the narrow tunnel to emerge in the bowl.

B'myr comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

F'niah comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

R'hyn leads the way, still wavering in his step. "I--" he murmurs, holding tight, still, to B'myr's arm. It's contact. He seems to like that; his hand is sweaty. "This way."

Arisvath> Nhiameth folds wings flat against her back to start, keeping her speed and then pushing forward with broadly spread wings and gaining height, a few lusty croons are spared to send back down toward the males but she pushes on rain helping wash away the blood on her muzzle.

B'myr has little time to think, and though his arm is held by R'hyn he spares glances for F'niah, making sure he's keeping up. Enough thought comes through that he realizes where they're probably headed, he doesn't want to be let go of yet though.

Arisvath> Saneth's easily overlooked in the rain; his coloring and the rain camouflage him nicely, thank you. After his first falter he

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