Saria walks in from the bowl.

Saria sweeps in imperiously, her eyes darting this way and that, surveying the condition of the barracks.  She stops in a central location, plants her feet at hip-width, and crosses her arms in front of her - and her eyes fall on D'baji.

D'baji lounges rather indolently in the unoccupied section of Nverath's couch, a hide on a hard backing across his lap, charcoal in hand and smudged along his jawline. The bronze, youngest bronze in the Weyr if one goes by the time of individual Hatchings, is just in the process of waking, tail twitching, wingtips quivering, and little whuffles coming from him. Weyrling rider stands, heading towards the oil with his own personal jar in preparation of the bronze's awakening, taking a rather poorly thought out course of action in standing and then tossing the charcoal back towards the couch, which of course causes the inevitable shatter, and giving a minute shudder. And ah yes, in classic Baji fashion, he completely misses the Weyrwoman, rubbing at his head while pondering what to do about the mess, and hefting the little oil jar idly.

"a-*HEM*!" Weyrwoman's throat is cleared pointedly, and arms remain crossed as she keeps her piercing gaze trained upon the bronze Weyrling.

D'baji whirls about, not at all happy to have been distracted from his thoughts, turning a little scowl right over to the 'ahemmer' and growling a "Well, I'm gonna clean it up!" before doing one of those lovely double-takes he's so prone to doing. "I mean, sorry, I didn't mean to drop it, just that Nverath is groggy and it rubs off and d'you have a broom of some sort?" An innocent little smile wins a battle with a scared look on his face, and then he adds a hasty, and of course, awkward, salute, turning away from the goldrider as an audible yawn comes from the bronze on his couch.

The Weyrwoman barks, "Weyrling!" The faint wisps of grey striating her dark hair speak of a long life as a rider, but the fire's not gone from the bits of red that also grace those auburn tresses, either.. not even bothering to ask Quarith for his name, Saria stands firmly, and her next statement comes through quietly gritted teeth, "You will present yourself to me, /NOW/." One long, elegant index finger points at a spot directly in front of Herself, at arm's length and no more.

D'baji furrows a brow slightly for the title so aptly used, sending one last look towards the black dust that now coats a good square foot of the floor, and then shuffling, on purpose, as one might tell from the hint of an upturned lip on the left corner of his mouth, to a step or two behind the place indicated. That can be blamed on self defence. "Forgive me again," is said smoothly, an eyebrow twitch as Nverath's head emerges from the couch, the bronze awkwardly making his way out, with a slow glance toward the charcoal and hide. "D'baji. Nverath's rider." Nevermind the colour of the dragon, because that might be considered a tad more proper than leaving it out. 

Saria's extended finger remains pointed at the spot she had previously indicated.  "Here," she repeats, "not there.  Step forward two paces, and show me a proper salute, Weyrling."  Again, not bothering with name, not caring what colour his dragon is.

D'baji gets halfway to grimace before bursting into a grin, stepping forward three little paces, enough that would make two normal ones, of course, to land neatly in the spot designated, and, crossing his hands behind his back, turns to peer over his shoulder at Nverath, who stretches silvery-white tinged wings, and, keeping those as outstretched as would be safe in the barracks, wanders on forward to finally come and stand beside his rider. Which takes some time, during which D'baji rocks back and forth, and doesn't look back. Because he is feeling rebellious without cause, and is embracing it. "Right," is given in a rather satisfied tone, chest puffing out and a slow, but at least precise, salute given after the saluting hand's thumb is wriggled from the thumbhole worn in the uniform. 

Saria watches the salute carefully.  Sadly, she can't find fault with the salute itself, but she can find fault with quite a lot of other things about this one, now that he's given her reason to look more closely for them. "D'baji, is it?  Well, it seems we've need to go back to square one with you.  D'baji, answer me this: what is my title?"  She lowers the finger that was pointing in front of her and raises it to gesture to her knot, as a hint.

D'baji knows how to salute, ah yes, when he can become less slothlike and puts some thought into it. Bronzerider descends the salute, making a note of using both hands to stick his thumb back through the whole, and then tilts his head from side to side while eyeing the knot. "Well, your a goldrider, so obviously a Weyrwoman. Of some description." He gives her a quick smile, relaxing his stance and stuffing both hands into convenient pockets. "And y'know, since candidacy, if you give me your name I can tell you your dragon's." A wink of pride for his skill follows, and he actually holds his breath, awaiting the response. So perhaps his mood is turning a bit less rebellious and more evil. Nverath offers a rumble of greeting, however, and a toss of the rider's head goes to silence any reprimanding from his dragon.

"Well, /well/, aren't we impressive!  Yes, indeed," Saria says, her tone appearing to have softened.  "Ah!  Kita.  Just in time.  Perhaps you need to do a bit more drilling with this one.  Is he holdbred, then?  He doesn't seem to know his knots very well at all.."  She pauses, waiting for a greeting and response from the brownrider.

Kita's eyes shift from the Weyrwoman to the new bronzer and back again a few times, hastily assessing the mood.  A sharp, smart salute is sent in Saria's direction (lets not antagonise the situation after all) as she reaches the pair.  "I believe so, Weyrwoman.  what have you done now, D'baji?" she asks, tone stern but eyes registering slight amusement as she stands a little behind the goldrider.

Saria quirks a bit of a smile.  "Yes, let's hear you, D'baji.  What do *you* think you've done?"

D'baji absolutely glowers at Saria, not at all enjoying having his intelligence insulted by people other than himself. Jaw is jutted out, and teeth firmly clenched against any possible remark, as he's not wont to go wandering into a situation to disprove ignorance. Kita is given a forced smile, Nverath offering a quick tap of his tail for the brownrider, though unsure as to what else to do, the bronze remains silent vocally. "Nothing, ma'am," he allows, giving a bit of an accent on the somewhat respectful name, which he's got no problem in giving to someone other than the Weyrwoman, "I was simply in the process of cleaning up a bit of charcoal that, through rather unfortunate occurances, shattered, and was off balance for /her/ entrance," headnod to Saria. "And I haven't had much reason to know the intricacies of the knots, I can identify the colours, and that's good enough." The last directed towards the goldrider.

Saria glances at Kita.  "I'll take this."  She steps up to D'baji and looks eye-to-eye with him. "Weyrling, you have EVERY reason to know the intricacies of the knots.  You are a dragonrider, and that means that every single one of these knots means something to you..."

"...and most ESPECIALLY, this one!"  She emphasizes her point by turning her shoulder to him and holding the intricate braided loops up to his face, extremely closely, for him to scrutinize.  "Now.  First.  You will never, EVER again address me as '/her/'.  My name is 'Senior Weyrwoman Saria'.  And every fardling time you see me, for as long as you live (if you manage not to get fatally scored, that is), you will stand straight, salute me *properly*, and address me, "Good day, Senior Weyrwoman Saria," in a *properly* respectful tone."

And as if that weren't enough, she continues on, quiet fire building in her voice.  "Second.  You will *never* again lie to a ranking rider when they ask you what has been going on. You had no intention of cleaning up that mess you made, and worse yet, you had the gall to ask *me* to get you a broom? As soon as we're done, you will go and clean up that mess, and then you will do your classmates a 'favour' and you will muck out EVERY single one of their dragons' couches, whether they need it or not!"

"And Thirdly, but not least, since you don't seem to find it very *important* to know the knots and the ranks they indicate in a Weyr, I'm going to give you a little project.  You'll make a knot for every possible rank and color of dragonrider, from Jr. Weyrling all the way up to Senior Weyrwoman, and everything in between.  You will present them to me in rank order from lowest to highest, organized and labeled clearly. This will be done on your own with no help from anyone else other than the Weyrweaver, who will give you the supplies to do this and who will instruct you on the basics; if I hear of anyone else helping you, I'll ask you to start over again.  You will complete this task within the next two months - which means you'll be doing an awful lot of knot-tying in between your lessons.  Now, are we /clear/, D'baji?"

Kita just stands there, mouth slightly open, eyes gaping wide in stunned silence at the end of the Weyrwoman's tirade.  Eventually she comes back from her muted shock.  "Er...yes, what the Senior Weyrwoman said."  And that has to be the first time Kita has ever used her full title.   The brownrider then falls silent.

D'baji blinks with a rather serene attitude picked up from his dragon, who is a bit less than calm at the moment, even getting to the point of being worried, which, for Nverath, is quite something. "Well, thank you for pointing that out to me," is said with a nod. "The knots really /do/ mean a lot. I can't believe I'd forgotten." And his somewhat jovial mood is quick to leave him as she continues. He'd thought that was it. So, in the midst of gazing at the knot 'presented' to him, he nods curtly, to every demand, deflating more and more with each, with only a few things to say, which he actually manages to hold until the end of the speech. "Yes, /Senior Weyrwoman/ Saria. Although I would like to point out that I did have intentions of cleaning it up. It'd be tracked all over, and a charcoal as nice as that was deserves a decent burial." And somehow he's perfectly serious there. "And forgive me for that request for the broom, I hadn't realized your rank." Hopefully that on't give away too much about him having recognized it, and having been in a bit of a mood. "Well, the mucking's alright, but really /all/ the knots? Although I suppose... I mean, Yes, Senior Weyrwoman Saria." So maybe all his mood has yet to dissipate. But at least it's respectful rambling now. Sort of. "But if you don't mind, Nverath has a terrible itch I'd like to attend to before I start on the charcoal?" The bronze does itch. But he's a bit busy stepping well behind his rider. Now just hope there's not trouble for distressing the dragon.

"Absolutely.  Your first duty is always to your lifemate, then to the Weyr, your fellow riders and then yourself.  So tend to your dragon's needs fully, though don't let me hear of you dawdling.  Then clean up the charcoal, muck those stalls, and I'll let the Weyrweaver know you'll be coming to see her as soon as you're finished to get started on those knots.  I'm sure once you've learned how to make them, you'll find it surprising how quickly you won't have any more trouble distinguishing between any of them ever again. Now, Nverath's rider, you had best get yourself to work if you want to finish what you've got to do and still have time to get some supper in the 'Caverns tonight while it's still hot."

Kita still remains silent, but casts her gaze over the young itchy bronze for any sign of cracking hide.  She then takes a step back, removing herself from the tense situation even further and quite happy to play the observer and watch what goes on.  She does however, clap a hand over her mouth lest her pitying amusement leaks out into a verbal noise.  "*Snerk*" oops what was that? Too late, methinks...

Saria has too much affection stored away for her student to do anything more than give Kita a sidewise, raised-brow glance before clapping her on the shoulder, "See that he follows my orders to the letter - foremost with his lifemate."

Saria murmurs something else as she claps heels smartly together and turns on a dime to exit the barracks, something only Kita would be able to hear as the Weyrwoman exits.

D'baji nods Nverath towards the oil vats, finding little bits of courage gathered from the recent explosion of his self confidence to give a flourish of a bow to Saria, with one of the slow but almost sorta nice salutes he can manage upon returning to full height, and then happily scurrying off after the rather confused, and despserately itchy dragon. if anything, he oils his dragon well. 

Saria walks out to the bowl.

"Aye, that I will Weyrwoman," Kita answers formally, then assumes a severe stance of observation with her hands behind her back and a fierce expression on her face.  When she thinks the Weyrwoman is gone, Kita's harsh demeanor softens, and she takes a step forward as if to assist the Weyrling.  Until she is whispered to.  Whatever her mentor said, it has an effect: Kita's eyes widen, and looking a little guilty she stays where she is, sighs and stands authoritively again.
You paged Saria with: D'baji pages, "Oh, thank /you/. Now /that/ is gonna be a log to cherish, right there... And yes, we won't go there. I'm feeling particularly big with the first comment, so..."

J'den has arrived.

Heliuth has arrived.

Nverath stretches his wings nervously, some of his rider's obvious unhappiness rubbing off on him as eyes are, well, less than a happy blue, as he regards the brownrider. D'baji busies himself with getting paddles and oil, and dutifully smearing the draggie lube over those terribly itching neckridges, to start. "So you, uh... You gonna sit and watch me do this whole thing?" bronzerider finally gets up enough courage to ask of Kita. His oiling of Nverath is their special time.

There couldn't possibly be a more difficult question to be asked of Kita at that moment.  Of course, D'jabi had to find it.  The brownrider looks pained for a moment, and completely unsure.  "I..." she begins, plonking her tightly leather clad tush upon a table and swinging her legs underneath.  "I...don't know, Deb," she almost moans, using her old nickname for him.  "Please believe me I want to...but I just can't.  The punishment meted out to you was a lot harsher than I would dish out...than any of us would dish out...but that is Saria's way.  She has a reason for punishing you in this way...and if I help and she catches me at it, I'll be riding the night patrols for sevendays!" But Kita is still looking terribly, terribly torn.  Her distressed expression fades slightly as she gazes at the young bronzes, and lifts a hand to wiggle her fingers in a greeting a human might employ with a child.

J'den enters the Barracks (with Heliuth in tow) just in time to witness the very end of the Senior Weyrwoman's exit. He now stands near the entrance, almost gaping. "What the..." he begins, before spotting Kita. "I mean, hello, Asst. Weyrlingmaster Kita," he murmurs with a salute before turning to his fellow bronzerider. "/What/ in Faranth's name happened?" Oh yes, that's curiousity written all over his face.

D'baji shudders and Kita's observation, doing his best to finally ignore it, and rubbing at neckridges. J'den's comment gets an angry finger-point, and he shakes his head. "Don't even /ask/. Don't even go there. Nverath's upset as it is, and I am in /no/ mood." So there.