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Weyrling Barracks(#1745RAJL)
This massive cavern is connected to the main bowl of the Weyr by a short, yet large tunnel. Some weyrlings might complain that the tunnel lets in too much sand and wind, but never in the presence of the Weyrlingmaster! The walls of the cavern are patterned with the swirled sandstone that's unique to this region, and although the cavern provides some respite from the heat of the desert, the warm yellow and red colours seem sometimes to enhance the weather. Couches, worn smooth by the hides of many young dragons, line the eastern wall of the cavern, each accompanied by a cot. In the eastern corner a study area has been set up, with scrolls, a few long tables, and benches.
The tunnel leading out opens at the southwestern end of the cavern.

M'val pokes his head around the cavern's entrance, and follows it with his body after a few moments of peering in.

Jazeth is lying lazily in his couch, graciously /allowing/ Teria to feed him lump after lump of meat, patiently. She glances up, seeing a new head, and salutes automatucally.

U'yn is spreading fresh reeds across the indentation he shares with Kismith. The bronze dragon is watching him with mild, blue eyes. He, too, salutes. "Weyrsecond, sir," he says, just as a whuffle from the bronze rearranges the reeds.

M'val winces and returns the salutes. "Shards, does Siara make you salute even in the barracks?" After a moment, he adds, "Good afternoon, U'yn, Teria, Jazeth, Kismith."

Teria says brightly, "It's not a salute, it's an involuntary muscle spasm in the hand. Incurable."

U'yn can't help snickering at that, and adds, "If I don't always salute, sir, I'm sure to forget at the wrong time."

M'val laughs at Teria's answer. "I see, Teria. Well, that's good to know, anyway." U'yn's answer gets a thoughtful look and a nod. "I was pretty good at remembering, but then, I'd been used to so much privacy that it was a relief to come here." He glances around the barracks. "Hasn't changed. Not that you have privacy here, but at least you don't have everyone in the Weyr crowding you, in here, when all you want is to sun beside your lifemate or whatever."

Teria stuffs another chunk of meat into Jazeth's maw, noting ruefully, "Sunning in here isn't much better then out there - the wind blows the sand right into your face.

"I admit, sir," says U'yn, "That I've been dreaming of life with my own weyr. Though it seems like the far distant future. Still," he amends, lookinga t Kismith, who looks right back, "I can't believe how big he is, already."

Kismith(#9251JOVaepqs)
He's made for air and wind and sky, this one, solidly muscled from neck to tail, and though not ungainly on the ground, his frame hints at greater airborne grace in his deep chest and slightly angled wings. Bright near-gold notes, glints of light green-bronze, warm and coppery middle hues, still more darker antique bronze, and weathered bronze so dark it's nearly a leathery brown-black: all are woven in a tapestry of harmony across his hide; one predominates in places -- near-gold brass blends seamlessly with warm coppery bronze at his face and neck, shadowed by antique bronze at both eyeridges and headknobs. Bars of green-bronze shine at his shoulders, trailing back and fading into darker hues before returning again at his flanks and tail, rising and falling into a fascinating blend, indicative of calm warmth that is belied only by his sheer joy of motion..
Kismith is 0 Turns, 4 months, and 5 days old, with a length of 21.31 metres, and a wingspan of 35.52 metres.

M'val laughs again. "You're supposed to lie - leeward, I think it's called. Ask Livia, she'd know. The side the wind's *not* coming from." He looks over Kismith and Jazeth both, a quick look-over. "They *are* getting bigger. You have, oh, a Turn or more before you get your weyrs. *Those* are a real relief." He adds, "He's gotten so big, have any of the dragonhealers given him his checkup yet? He'll need clearance in just a month or so at most, I'm betting."

Teria pats Jazeth's muzzle proudly. "Bigger? They're getting huge! There's just so much more to oil now. But I've not seen the dragonhealers." She glances at U'yn - has he?

U'yn shakes his head, "No, sir, he hasn't, either. Is it just me, or is he as large as a small green, already?"

M'val flashes a grin. "I'd better look at them, then, if either of you want. Yes, he is - a pretty small one, but there are plenty smaller, now. It's amazing how they grow, though at least now they should start slowing down a little. I imagine you're tired of all the oiling it causes."

Teria nods emphatically. "Oh - not that I mind! But there is just so much to oil now!"

U'yn looks at his bronze again, who still returns the gaze. "Kismith is willing, sir, and now is a fine time. He's awake, and oiled, and not hungry."

M'val drifts a few steps closer to Kismith and nods. "All right, then. First things first. How does he *feel*? Any aches, pains, itches, weird feelings that he isn't sure what they mean?" He starts looking over Kismith much more intently than on his first arrival.

U'yn focuses intently on his lifemate as well. "He /always/ needs a lot of oiling and scratching behind his neck. And he had sand between his claws that was chafed, but I've gotten that cleaned out, and it's better. Nothing that's worried me, sir."

Teria scrambles to her feet, scrubbing off her hands. "All done! So that's why he was stepping on you, U'yn?"

Jazeth comes back into the weyrling barracks, from Jazeth's couch.

M'val arches his eyebrows. "All right. I'll take a look at his claws. Lemme see your eyes, Kismith, and then your teeth?" He looks from Kismith to U'yn as he asks that. "I'll make sure those're all right, then start in on the body proper. Teria? Shall I do Jazeth at the same time?"

Teria nods enthusiastically, hair falling haphazardly into her eyes. "Yes, please. I'm sure he's in good health though."

Kismith rests his muzzle on the reeds, his lids open. His eyes now whirl slowly with a turquoise curiosity. "Go ahead, sir," says U'yn.

U'yn bobs his head to Teria. "Twas the easiest way to get real close to those claws," he explains to her, in answer to her inquiry.

Teria links her fingers together behind her back, watching uietly.

M'val steps up right next to Kismith's eyes, body little more than a foot away from the dragon, and meticulously examines them, paying careful attention to the liquid each facet has. "Jazeth, you're next, so if you could be ready for me too... Now, I know Kismith can't see how many fingers I've got here," he lifts his fingers and spreads four out, "not this close - their eyes just don't work quite that way. Have you had him look at things that are farther off, and show you pictures of them? He can see better than we can, farther away. If you can both look at something," he looks around as a green firelizard pops into existence by the barracks entrance, "thanks, Koli - both of you look, and him show you what he sees, you can be sure if his eyes are seeing what you see. At that range he should see about the same as you, maybe a little finer detail. Jazeth, Teria," he looks at the brown weyrling, "if you could do the same? And let me know about any aches, pains, etc that he might have, too."

U'yn closes his eyes, while Kismith obediently moves his head enough to focus on the firelizard. The young bronzerider concentrates a moment, before opening his eyes and looking himself. He squints at the firelizard, "He sees more variations in the colours than I do," he says.

Jazeth obligingly turns his eyes toward the little green, rumbling at her. Teria justshakes her head. "No aches, no pains, not even a twinge, sir."

M'val backs away from Kismith's eyes and walks over to Jazeth. "Good. No problems so far, U'yn, although you might want to take him swimming this afternoon to be sure he has enough water - are they swimming yet? I think I've seen some of them, I don't know if all of them are." He repeats the process with Jazeth's eyes, the close inspection and very intent expression a bit at odds with his usual casual demeanor.

You say "Jazeth has been swimming, but I need to wait for a weyrlingmaster to take us the first time.""

Chayil comes out for air and to refil her hands with yet more oil, huffing a little as the job nears completion for the day. "Whoo. Keturath, I never would've believed it," she pants, "but you really /can/ sit and watch you grow. No wonder riders are so strong -- just when you get done oiling one end, you gotta go back to the other end and start over."

M'val chortles at Chayil's words as he backs away from Jazeth. "His eyes are fine, too. U'yn, we'll have to see if we can't get you with them soon; Kismith could use the lubrication, I think. Now, let me look at your claws, Kismith, since U'yn says you had some sand there."

Chayil hurriedly salutes as she notices M'val's presence in the barracks, straight and sharp and proper, before relaxing and going to get that last scoop of oil to pour ont Keturath's snout, head knobs, and neck. Naturally, the young gold eats up all this attention, beginning to thrum in her chest and throat almost, but not quite, as if eggs were beginning to hatch somewhere.

U'yn looks around, as if to see if a weyrlingmaster who's not already tied up with lessons or other duties might magically appear. "I'll be sure to mention that to them, sir." Kismith extends a foreclaw, claws splayed in a most awkward way.

M'val says, cheerfully, "I will, too." He ducks down a little, not responding to Chayil's salute - perhaps he didn't notice it - and peers at Kismith's claws. "Hmmm. They're a little swollen - not badly, just a little - here and here - is that where the sand was?"

U'yn is bending over to see, too, and jumps back just in time to avoid smacking M'val's head as he moves. "Right there, yes, sir."

Teria gives Jazeth a searching look herself, nodding. "I think he just grew again!"

Chayil casts her suspicious eyes from one dragon to another, nodding as she agrees with Teria's assessment. "I think he did. And I /know/ Keturath did. Didn't you, sweetie?" She leans forward to kiss Keturath's upraised, unrepentent snout.

M'val moves back again. "Whoops. Sorry. I'll send over some redwort, and there's usually some numbweed around, I think." He glances vaguely around the cavern. "Wash those areas, right at the base of the claw," he turns his own finger over and prods at the pad at the base of each finger, "twice a day, he's growing so fast and into so much we don't want to take chance. Should go away in a sevenday."

U'yn bobs his head at each point. "Will do, sir. Thanks. I'll keep a close eye on it." He inclines his head towards the brownrider with a grin. "Ask her, I've been down under his claws to make sure they're okay."

Teria confirms with a grin, "He has been under, though I'm not sure you can trust whate he says about the reason."

U'yn snorts. "Oh, sure, I just roll about underneath dragonclaws just for kicks and grins. Since we're not permitted more usual entertainments."

M'val grins at the two weyrlings. "Well, the redwort'll keep them from getting infected. Now! Jazeth, show me your claws, too?" He looks at Teria, then at Jazeth, as he asks it.

Chayil massages the last of the oil into Keturath's face, throat, and neck while watching with great interest the examination of the other dragons. Keturath's claws extend and retract repeatedly as she cranes her neck way out to get the most out of the attention, heaving a great sigh of contentment. At last, she's large enough for her unusual thrumming sound to be considered a proper rumble, and she makes the most of it.

Jazeth lifts a foot, angling it toward M'val.

M'val ducks under to look at it with the same attention to detail that he gave to Kismith's foot. "No problems here," he murmurs, after lightly touching the same area that on Kismith was swollen, however slight. "Much better." He backs off and starts circling the brown, examining him just as carefully, occasionally touching spots. "Teria?" He stops at the left wing, eyeing the tip. "There's little scrapes here, very fine - did he bang into something?"

Now that his own dragon isn't being inspected, U'yn lightens up a bit, and quips, "Well, I watched her smack into walls th'other day, and you know what they say: like rider, like dragon."

Teria catches her breath. "He fell over once - he said he wasn't hurt though!" She gives the brown, then U'yn, and accusing look. "He said he wasn't hurt - and I didn't notice..."

M'val gives Teria a reassuring look and a soothing gesture, both. "They're very small. I only notice because," he casts a glance out towards the Bowl, "I've seen enough of them to recognize them. See, here, you can probably tell when they're pointed out. He's growing so fast, though, it could easily look like he just needed oiling there."

Teria sits on her heels to get a better look, still frowning. "I see them. They'll heal okay?"

Chayil gives U'yn a teasing grin and tosses her oiling sponge towards him. "Does that mean we'll catch your Kismith dancing in the living cavern to placate proddy weyrwomen?" Naturally not including /Chayil/, of course. So far, every reference to weyrwomen has meant "the grownups," the people who, as it were, actually get proddy.

"Oh, sure," says M'val breezily, "they need some washing and maybe a little - you were placating proddy weyrwomen, U'yn? Good job! - What was I - right. Washing with the redwort I'll send over, and he oughtn't get sand on the tip for a few days so he doesn't aggravate them, but they're no problem. Happen all the time, well, not all the time, but I've seen my share of dragonets with similar things."

U'yn catches the oiling sponge, which sends a splattering of oil every which way upon impact. His face reddens at Chayil's taunt, and even more at M'val's comment. "Kismith," he says with as much dignity as he can muster, "Will do his dancing and tail-wiggling in the bowl, thank-you-very-much."

Teria mumbles, "No, he was chasing after cute weyrling greenriders!"

Chayil gives U'yn an exaggerated bow like the ones people use to begin dances. "Oh, I /beg/ your pardon, bronzerider. He'll be placating proddy queens in the bowl." Then she goes back to listening to M'val, surprisingly quick at utterly switching full focus.

M'val says cheerfully, "Nothing wrong with that, either, Teria." He gives the brownrider-weyrling a smile. "All right, now, I'm going to listen to them breathing and their hearts, so pipe down a bit." This doesn't take very long, with the bronzerider's ear against them - he does mutter something about not bringing along proper tools - and then he's moving around their backs to check hind legs and tails. "Each of you, spread your wings out, lift them up, and _slowly_ - and without much force, just about like you lifted your feet for me - bring them down. Both of them producing sufficiently large quantifies of muck?"

Teria wrinkles her nose. "Oh, yes. Lots of muck." She still has a beady eye on U'yn.

Chayil leans forward, then walks all the way around the dragons to get a better look, though making the effort to stay well out of the way.

U'yn splutters in protest, which he has to quiet for M'val's sake. Once he can speak again, he levels Teria a look. "/Strapwork/," he protests. "I told you it was strapwork." He tells Chayil, still a little testy, "Kis and I are practicing a duet," and then, with a sigh, "Healthy amounts of muck, sir!" Kismith obligingly spreads his wings, a little more enthusiastically than asked, perhaps in response to U'yn's mood, and then slows down with an apologetic rumble.

M'val pages to Chayil, Teria, and U'yn: See you later, then, Teria! I'll +mail the right people abou the checkups.

Teria says sweetly, "And what were you doing with the straps, U'yn?"

U'yn is easily baited, it seems. "Stitching," he grumbles. "I'm a..." he corrects himself, "Was a tanner, remember?"

M'val looks more amused than irritated by Kismith's reaction; he watches carefully, looking not at the wings but at the muscles supporting them as they move. "Just fine for current development. Siara and T'al undoubtedly will start them all on wing-strengthening exercises, anyway." The byplay between Teria and U'yn seems not to phase him, though the twitching of his lips indicates that he has, in fact, noticed it. "Looks good," he announces, "and anyway, chasing cute greenriders isn't bad. Nor is placating proddy goldriders - if you can!"

Teria has disconnected.

U'yn splutters all over again. "I wasn't chasing her!" is his outburst. "Strapwork!" he repeats. "We were stichin' on her straps!" But as Teria gets called away, he calms, a bit, and admits, "Placating Junni was fun... a little."

M'val asks Chayil, "Are you interested in dragonhealing? Chasing is still good, U'yn. Helping with straps is, too, if Siara and T'al are all right with it - we'd a bit of help from each other while we were learning, too."

Chayil watches M'val examine Kismith, and then scoots back over to Keturath, mumbling on the way, "And you were good at it, too. Keturath, spread up your wings nice and slow, like this. I want to see if yours look the way Kismith's look." She demonstrates by raising up on her tiptoes and lifting her arms in twin arcs, up and out and slightly back, as if she too had wings. Keturath obediently spreads her wings, knocking Chayil's hat off. "Good," Chayil says, not at all irritated, and picks up her zucchetto again. "Wow...you've got a /really/ big spread... Sir?" she breaks off at the question. "Yes! I mean, if I could learn it. Do you think A'deth would let me?"

M'val tilts his head and smiles at Chayil. "Yes, once you've graduated; and you'll all learn basic care as they grow - not just hatchling care, but what to do with the adult dragons, light scores, that sort of thing. I doubt you'd have time for it before then."

Chayil's head bobs. "I wouldn't want to shortchange Keturath's training, or mine, right now. But later on, I'd really like to do it. I heard that golds get less injuries than most of the other dragons because they fly lower, so that goldriders are usually free to see to other people's dragons right away."

M'val smiles, and nods slightly. "They do - which is a good thing; if queens were getting injured frequently we'd never get through a Fall. It upsets the others horribly when a queen's injured, distracts a lot of them."

Terrilia strides in from the Bowl.

"I know how they'd feel," Chayil says, stroking at Keturath's upstretched wingsail thoughtfully. The young dragon's eyes pulse from pale green to a deeper, bluish shade.

Terrilia steps inside and blinks, letting her eyes adjust after the bright sunlight. She looks toward the voices. "Afternoon..."

Chayil quickly turns about and salutes sharply. "Weyrsecond on deck," she warns just in case. Keturath, bless her, lifts one wing, trying for a salute like her rider's.

M'val waves over his shoulder. "Afternoon, Terri." He adds to Chayil, "That's why you can't be distracted by dragonhealing beforehand, of course. Although I admit to thinking it wasn't the best use of our skills to prohibit me and Delia from working on dragons after Fall *ever* while we were weyrlings - we were already both pretty good, by then. Top-rank, I think; I know Delia was."

Terrilia's smile brightens as she returns the salute. "Chayil--just who I was looking for. Hi M'val--dragonhealing?" She chuckles at Keturath and glances toward M'val curiously. "Don't let me interrupt."

Chayil drops her hand (and Keturath, her wing) and steps forward. "Ma'am, what can I do for you, ma'am?" Behind her, Keturath relaxes, tipping forward to rest on her belly and forelimbs. The young queen's tummy makes a bit of a slapping sound as she descends, stirring a bit of a breeze in the barracks.

Terrilia's eyes linger on the gold for just a moment before she smiles at Chayil again. "She really is growing. I've got something for you--just a second." She ducks out for a second and returns, shoving a trunk in front of her. The way it moves, it seems light for its size. "I was at the Harper Hall the other day and they said you had left a few things. MasterHarper Jenufa passes on her greetings, too."

M'val swivels around to look at Terri, eyebrows going up; he opens his mouth with obvious curiousity, then snaps it shut again and assumes his usual cheerful, casual air.

Chayil brightens, and then immediately becomes concerned, trotting forward to help drag the trunk. "You carried it all the way here? Ma'am, I'm so sorry. I'd have come for it, honestly, I promise. It must've been heavy."

Terrilia didn't miss M'val's look--both eyebrows arch and she smiles sweetly at him, eyes twinkling, though she doesn't say anything. She waves a hand at Chayil as she shoves the trunk farther into the barracks. "Oh, it's fine. A lot lighter than the firestone bags we toss around, don't worry." She gives it a final shove and stands straight again, grinning. "There you go."

Chayil nearly bends to open the box, but instead straightens up again to ask, "Did Master Jenufa say anything else? Maybe about...visiting?"

M'val gives Terrilia a wide-eyed look, then smiles around at the weyrlings without any pretence of being innocent of, well, anything. He mutters to Terrilia, "Ha.... something!... there?... just heard..."

Terrilia smiles warmly and steps back out of the way. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you--she seemed happy for you." She blinks at M'val a moment, apparently caught off-guard by whatever he said, then nods once, quickly, and smirks.

Terrilia steps a little closer to M'val and speaks quietly. She mutters to M'val, "... right--N'ren... arm around the... How's that... I... shouldn't spread that around..."

U'yn is standing by Kismith, listening, observing, not contributing, since he's not interested in having any more reasons to blush right now. His bronze dragon has lost interest in the proceedings and his lids are starting to close, one by one.

M'val bounces on his heels, looking pleased or perhaps amused by whatever Terri's answered. He mutters to Terrilia, "... great.... wonder... good..."

Chayil's eyes flick from one weyrsecond to the other, and one would be highly unobservant not to notice suspicion creeping into her small face. "Yes, ma'am. I should write to her again, and my parents. My parents, by the way, want to honor the Weyr by sending several...pairs of...Ma'am?" she asks, as the pair continue to whisper.

Terrilia laughs, eyes twinkling. "I've created a monster. Well, she does now, I suppose, " she says cryptically to M'val. She shakes her head at M'val and clears her throat as she moves out of the way, a little closer to the door. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sure she'd like that, sure. What about your parents?" She smiles brightly at U'yn and Kismith, too, nodding appreciatively as she notes the bronze's growth.

U'yn bobs his head politely in return. Obviously he hasn't perfected the art of becoming inconspicuous while trying to overhear what might be quite interesting sidechatter.

M'val gives both weyrlings a smile, still obviously amused, but this time he seems to take more note of the fact that they're the only ones currently around; everyone else isn't crowded close enough to hear. "I wanted to ask you two how you were settling in, and whether any of the, hmmm, whether the colors of your dragons was causing you any issues or worries or anything like that."

Chayil repeats herself, edging nearer so as to perchance overhear the next bout of whispers. "My parents would like to honor the Weyr by donating several pairs of shoes. I think they said they'd give ten pairs of shoes or boots, free of charge, in addition to the Tannercraft's usual tithe.

Chayil adds, "Made to order, and whoever gets those ten pairs just needs to send them a tracing of their foot."

"Oh! That would be wonderful!" Terrilia says, smiling. She looks toward M'val for his opinion, too. "We're always in need of good shoes. Thank you, Chayil. And many thanks to your parents--we'll send a more formal thanks, too, but..." She leans against the doorframe and glances around the barracks, a small, nostalgic smile on her face, listening for the answer to M'val's questions.

U'yn leans against his dragon's side, even while Kismith drifts off to sleep on the reeds. "Well, sir," considers the lad, "Some people seem to expect..." he begins, considers, then starts over, "Like that greenrider we were discussing. She seemed to think I couldn't possibly want to help her practice her stitches." He rolls his eyes, "Of course then I get in trouble for /helping/ her practice her stitches." And he bobs his head in the direction of the drowsing Jazeth, though Teria's long gone.

M'val looks down at his own feet, sticking one out to regard his boots dubiously. "A tracing, I bet that'd tickle. Sesla could use some, she's just gotten old enough and self-conscious enough that she doesn't want to get someone else's hand-me-downs, but the ones she's been using are wearing through. I got that," he pauses, then ticks off three names that are apparently his chain of information about Sesla's shoes.

Chayil's head bobs rapidly. "They're as proud as punch, sir, and they aren't the sort not to show it. And as it happens, my sister was one of the Smiths who helped make our rings, too. They're proud to be beholden to the High Reaches, but Mama said she's just as proud to have her youngest girl at Igen Weyr. She was from Igen Sea-Hold before she was a tanner, you see, and my father's from a cothold near Benden, so you see, it's sort of cyclical."

M'val switches his attention back to U'yn, grimacing. "Ah, yes. That one." He looks over at Terri, smiles faintly, and turns back to the weyrlings. "Not much you can do with that one; all you can do when it comes to being helpful is, well, be yourself. Don't let them tease you too much - if *you* know why you're doing it and are satisfied with that, that's enough. Whether it's a subtle chasing or just helpfulness, or a mixture of both. Lots of people tease bronzeriders about that; they seem to think it's fun, even if the bronzerider's not much of a flirt."

Terrilia nods thoughtfully to Chayil as she tries to follow all of that, and continues nodding to U'yn. She flashes a quick grin back at M'val.

The tips of Chayil's work boots wiggle a tad. "Anyhow, ma'am, they'll get started as soon as I can get Headwoman Natasya to point out the ten people who need shoes the most, and get tracings of their feet. My parents are crackerjacks with shoes." She rocks back and forth from heel to toe. Behind her, Keturath leans forward to lay her chin over Chayil's shoulder. Fortunately she's learned not to rest the full weight of her head upon the child's bones.

Terrilia grins at Chayil and nods again. "Wonderful--I'll mention it to Natasya if I see her, or M'val will--" Another grin in M'val's direction--or a smirk maybe, that time-- "or you can, if you see her first." She chuckles at Keturath and glances out to the Bowl briefly.

M'val winks back at Terrilia, not at all discomfited. "I'll tell her if I do." He, too, looks out at the Bowl. "Riolth says," he says resignedly, "something about V'lien and Sarai and meetings." He looks at Terrilia, questioning now.

Terrilia sighs sadly, though she's still smiling. "Sounds about like what I heard from Cyameth. Think they'd miss us if we skipped?"

M'val chortles. "Maybe not. Then again, I suspect Val would at least notice *you* weren't there." He gives both weyrlings a rueful look. "I think we'd both better go, eh?"

U'yn salutes. "Thanks for the checkup, sir. Good day to both of you."

Terrilia grins. "He probably would, at that." She stands straight and nods. "Probably so. Clear skies U'yn, Chayil." She raises a hand and salutes.

M'val waves, much more casual than his usual response to the weyrlings saluting him. "Good day to all four of you." With a bit of a grimace, he turns towards the exit, muttering, "Meetings," as he goes.

Terrilia walks through the tunnel and out to the Bowl.

M'val walks through the tunnel and out to the Bowl.

Chayil gives M'val a smile and salute, followed by one for Terrilia, and then a glance towards U'yn. "G'day, sir and ma'am," she calls after their retreating backsides, then mentions to her fellow weyrling, "Don't you hate it when folks tell secrets /right/ in front of us?"

U'yn snorts. "Like we don't exist," he responds.

"Or as if," Chayil says, naming her own particular bugbear, "we're too little to understand whatever they're talking about." She strolls towards her couch and leaps onto it with a poof of blankets, on her back, and props her feet onto Keturath's couch as the dragon heaves herself onto it to nap away the afternoon. "Except that you're almost their age! And I'm...not as little as I look."

U'yn still leans against Kismith, "But we rank so much below them," he shrugs.

Chayil thinks about it, and immediately is back on her feet, searching for something to keep her hands busy. Straps. Perfect. She picks up a half-made set of straps and sets to work stitching, though not extremely well. "We do, but rank's got nothing to do with people's feelings. They could wait till they're apart from us, or ask their dragons to share messages. Or they could pass notes during their meeting, if it's that important, like we did at the Hall. Of course, you have to be careful with that sort of thing...but anyway, it's just mean not to share with us."

U'yn shrugs. "You're right, it is. When we rank, you can complain," he says, easily. "Hey, I need to go find a weyrlingmaster that's not wrapped up in lessons, and talk about a few of the things M'val said. Catch you later?

Chayil's head bobs; her hat no longer falls off when she nods. "Sure. And maybe I can ask for your help with the straps, too? Yours look so good, and mine so far are a big flop."

U'yn agrees easily. "No problem. I like working on straps. Catch me some time soon." and he hurries off.