Ilare - Wednesday, January 03, 2001, 10:36 AM
---------------------------------------------
 
Chanticoth
Oh what sweet, sweet treacle flavours his slimly elongated curves,
 lightening the glimmering patina of burnt pinewood; oh what bright, bright
 ridges carol along his snow and mistletoe back, kissing the gingerbread
 surface below. But it is the patterned decadence of brandy-butter that
 defines this rogue: toasted to perfection from the ruddy nubs that cap his
 head to the festive curve of that spoon-shaped tail candycane-striped with
 russet, his sweetly blunted snout is fairy-dusted with holly-crimson,
 which also reddens freckled cheeks. His chestnut hide roasts in the open
 air of winter's breath wings, along which a darker brown tracery gaily
 hunts for perfection. Smouldering embers of evening's end warm his
 underbelly, stretching dusky shadows except where disturbed by the rare
 sunburst of flames, breathing life into the whole of his enchanting body.
Richest green, the shade of deepest summer foliage and wintertime evergreen
 trees has been dyed carefully into the leather, giving the impression of
 mottled shadows and multiple overlapping leaves. The straps of leather -
 well oiled and made to fit this dragon alone - have been lined with suede
 and wollybeast skin to prevent chaffing, and are doubled over to allow for
 growth. Positioned between the forth and fifth of Chanticoth's lustrous
 brown ridges, the leather straps have been sewn with dedicated care, made
 to last and not fall prey to wear and tear. Polished shiny buckles glint,
 kept bright with care. 
Chanticoth is 7 months and 8 days old.
He is 37 feet (11m) long, with a wingspan of 61 feet (18m).
Chanticoth senses Ilare looking at him.

<< You sense that Chanticoth has awakened. >>

Bay> Chanticoth arises from the couch and vanishes out into the barracks.
Chanticoth clambers out of Chanticoth's couch.

<High Reaches Weyr> Chanticoth senses that Myrineth extends greetings
 towards the weyrling dragons - those of Ysbryth's laying, anyhow. 
 << Catia is ready for you. >> The shiver of snow is splattered across her
 usual soft forest-green shadings.

You go to the Training Grounds.
Training Grounds
The marks of thousands of claws give testament to the shuffling of the
 young dragons that have torn up what little grass once grew in this
 corner of the bowl. Tucked in between the feeding pens to the south and
 the curve of the Weyrleader's complex, the training grounds are home to
 daily exercises and classes, all taking place well out of the way of the
 hectic bustle of the rest of the bowl. Cut deep into the cliff face, the
 large, covered openings leading into the extensive weyrling barracks
 rise high over the heads of any who come near, although the height of
 the caldera's spindles far above cast their own reaching shadows across
 the hard packed earth.
  It is a winter midmorning.  The sky is a clear deep blue, no clouds in
 sight.  The air is cold, the sun not seeming to warm you up as it climbs
 low in the eastern sky.  Snow blankets the land, crunching underfoot.
Soaring high overhead are Shugogetten, Kiran, and Harme.
Green Kelitath, green Vespurath, and green Niamhyth are here.
Catia is here.
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Barracks     Northern Bowl     Corrals

Chanticoth pads with enviable grace in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Imbriath shuffles with the awkward gait of a weyrling in from the Weyrling
 Barracks.

Hyzen is led in by Imbriath.

Sasha strides confidently in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Sasha follows her newly precocious green onto the training grounds. "Ok,
 OK, so you are bigger than me and you move faster these days... you
 proved your point Branny!"

Ilare pulls the collar of her jacket up as she pads out of the barracks,
 not quite so sleep deprived this morn after the midnight snow fest. Hand
 remaining on Chanticoth's shoulder as the pair move out further into the
 training grounds, Catia is waved to cheerfully as she manages to avoid the
 rushing green. "Hello, Catia. Good morning, Myrineth!"  

Catia waits patiently against Myrineth's leg, stamping down the snow. "I
 know it's cold, shush...." she murmurs, waving a hand to gather the
 weyrlings around her. "Can everyone see me?"

Hyzen follows Imbriath towards the grounds, scrambling through the snow as
 she pulls on a warm jacket. "I'm coming..."  And she's not late this time! 
 Kicking her boots free of the white particals, she gazes towards her
 greenling proudly before moving so she can see Catia.  "Yup..."  Button,
 button, button.  There, she's not nearly so cold now.

Sasha rubs her hands together, grateful for the weyrhide gloves she is
 wearing and the thick cloak which covers her. And of course the huge
 draggie tail which snakes around her every so often to check that she's
 warm enough. "Hiya Catia! Yeah...we can see you fine."

Imbriath practicly prances forward, her tail wavering back and forth well
 off the ground. Even her wings are half unfurled. One could say she looks
 a bit dapper this morning. She croons a greeting t'wards her clutchmates,
 making sure to blow through her nostrils enough of flutter some snow.

Chanticoth pads along after Ilare, at one point glancing behing himself.
 ooh look. My tail makes a line in the snow...

"First things first then," Catia begins. "Your lifemates will have their
 first solo flight sometime in the very very very near future - and so
 we're going to talk about wings. Eventually. But first I want to discuss
 the ways in which you, as riders, can find yourself grounded and
 forbidden to fly. Anyone got any ideas?"

Ilare raises one hand. "By getting sick or injured?" Well, it IS one way of
 getting grounded, no?

Sasha nods at Ilare's response. "What about trying to go between without
 permission..or trying to time flights?"

Hyzen shifts her weight slowly from foot to foot, arms crossed across her
 chest as she watches the other dragons and weyrlings, giggling softly. 
 Shaking her head, eyes land then upon Imbriath at the greenling's motions. 
 Moving slightly, she stands to one side of her lifemate... better to block
 the wind, see?  "By being irresponsible?"  -That's- been drilled into
 them...

"You can certainly get grounded for that," Catia nods to Ilare... and then
 again to Sasha. And Hyzen. "Very good, all of you. Let's cover some of
 those cases... at least, the ones where sickness, injury, overflying and
 so on are involved. /I/ don't have the authority to ground you for
 misbehaving." She manages to imply that there are people who do, however.

Imbriath finds herself a nice cozy spot in a snowbank in which to nestle
 down -No, wait...better yet. She turns a neat circle about Hyzen, winding
 her tail about her lifemate. Dropping so sit upon her haunches, she arches
 a neck over Hyzen... all the better to breathe toasty warm *and not to
 mention a bit smelly* dragonbreath upon her.

Sasha ruffles a hand through her long fringe ....... must get that
 trimmed..."I know that if you are not well, especially with firehead for
 example that it is dangerous to fly, especially between" Leaning back, she
 realises that Branwyth has made herself comfortable in the snow and seems
 unconcerned by the low temperature. She hauls herself up to sit on a
 proferred foreleg and enjoys the deep green insulation from the cold.

Catia gives Sasha a nod of approval. "Just so.... If you're sick, you
 should see a healer. If they think you're very sick, they'll ground you,
 and your dragon - depending /how/ sick, you can probably fly around the
 bowl, but no betweening." Catia;s face turns solemn. "I hope I don't need
 to impress on you all how important it is to stay healthy... we don't want
 to lose any of you, or your dragons." Particularly the dragons. "We're a
 healthy bunch though, there hasn't been a serious sickness here since I
 came here.... 13 Turns ago? Something like that."

Hyzen makes a circle, stomping upon the piled snow as she does so, before
 turning back to listen to Catia's words.  Feeling the closeness of her
 beloved, she beams up into the bright optics of Imbri, offering a soft
 "Thank you," as she relaxes in the warmth that flows.  And the breath. 
 Nose wrinkles slightly and she hunches her shoulders a bit.  "Meat..." 
 That's all she offers, what it's the answer to everything.  "What makes a
 dragonrider sick?"  An innocent, if stupid sounding question... but she
 was raised in a hold most of the time... and was always made to think that
 'riders were immune to most everything but Thread.

Catia stares at Hyzen. "Ask Cayl or Sasha sometime.... Colds, coughs,
 firehead, same as the rest of the world. Plague. Unexplained fevers that
 kill." The healer frowns, turning away a little and stroking Myrineth's
 opalescent forearm gently. "And if riders die - their dragons die. Riders
 get a lot of injuries too - not just threadscore, but breaks and sprains
 and all that sort of thing. Comes with an active life."

Sasha hunches up her knees and wraps her arms around them, noting quietly,
 "Between makes a mess of any surface wounds too...its not advisable to fly
 when you are not fit."

Imbriath continues to breathe, great engulfing steam-heavy breaths of
 raniced odorous... well, we are getting a bit carried away there. So, she
 breathes, and upon Hyzen. Green turns her aqua-hued eyes upon Catia, and
 thats all.

Ilare gives a nod. "My mother was badly threadscored," she notes sadly. 
 "She went between and nver returned." Such is the life of riders though..
 "Can injuries be serious enough to ground riders or their dragons from
 ever flying again?" Lets change the subject slightly, eh?

Branwyth shudders a bit, unnerved by Catia's candid comments. Her head
 swings around to gaze into sasha's eyes in consternation and by the way
 Sasha's eyes glaze slightly, its obvious that she wants some answers.

Hyzen's arms slowly drop from their tight hug of her form... well, when you
 have a dragon breathing on you so heavily, you didn't remain cold for
 long.  Or nice smelling, for that fact.  Blushing sligthly, she nods in
 return to Catia's words.  She should have known... but it popped out
 before she could stop it.  Clasping her hands, she leans slightly into
 the bulk of her green, trying to think of a question that didn't make her
 look dumb.  Of which she doesn't find, as of yet.  "Any questions,
 Imbri?"  Quietly whispered to her greenling.

Catia is serious, but then, it's a serious subject. "You'll all be fine, if
 you're just sensible," she tells the weyrlings. "See a healer if you're
 sick.... it's better to not fly for a sevenday that to never fly again."
 Myrineth swings her head around to look over the weyrlings, breathing into
 her lifemate's hair.

G'deon quietly strides in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Nylanth carefully and as silently as possible tramps in from the Weyrling
 Barracks.

Imbriath will just let Hyzen worry about that kind of stuff. Something
 between a snort and a wuffle is offered, translate that as you will.

Ilare nods, stroking her dragon's neck. They'll certainly take those
 warnings to heart. Not that Chanti wouldn't tattle on her in an instant if
 she was sick. "Oh, we'll definately do that. Besides, being ill isn't any
 fun.." A wave is given G'deon and Nylanth, before attention returns to
 Catia.

At a prompt from Catia, Myrineth now stretches out one wing, angling it so
 that the faint winter light shines through the translucent sails. "Now....
 onto wings. Your dragons will be trying theirs out very soon.... does
 anyone know what we name the main parts of the wing?" And she reaches high
 over her head, pointing towards the main expanse of membrane.

G'deon lumbers alongside his lifemate as they slowly make their way out
 into the winter morning.  The weyrling nods to the others already
 assembled as Nylanth studies everything carefully.

Sasha waves absently to Gid and Nylanth as they arrive and then she turns
 her attention to this new topic. This is what she is really interested
 in....human anatomy is second nature now but dragon anatomy......she wants
 to learn everything. " Spars?" she ventures indicating Branwyth's wing.

"Mainsails," G'deon offers as he stops beside the other weyrlings.

Ilare raises a hand also. "Um.. Finger sail? And bone?" She turns and rests
 a hand on her dragon's furled wings, pointing at the parts she has named.

"Thanks for the help, Imbri..."  But a smile follows those words as Hyzen
 strokes the soft hide, never taking her eyes from Catia and Myrineth. 
 "Wingsails?"  Close to what G'deon said, who is offered a wave-- not cold. 
 Nope.  Just don't come too near her until she's had a bath though.

"The spars are the bones, Sasha," Catia supplies that bit of information
 before nodding to G'deon. "Yes, 'sails'. Like on a ship, don't ask me why.
 Spars are parts of a ship, too." Once a SeaHolder, always... "And we have"
 - she points going from Myrineth's body outwards: "primary mainsail,
 secondary mainsail, spar mainsail. And then the finger sail, as Ilare
 says, on the outside, past the spar bone."

Nylanth casually settles himself on the ground, seemingly without a care
 for the chilling weather. He studies Myrineth in a sidelong fashion.
 G'deon on the other hand carefully considers the other weyrlings, and the
 dragonhealer as well.

G'deon nods quickly to Catia as she continues her explanations, then leans
 against Nylanth, eyes unfocusing for a brief moment.  "Yes, those are the
 ones that float on water," he quietly explains to his curious lifemate."

Imbriath is more than happy to assist. At the mentioning of wingsails, she
 shifts in her position to unfurl said wings, utterly careless of
 blundering them into other weyrlings about her. With the creak of
 opening pinions, she angles this way and that to watch as the morning
 sun glances through the sheer sails. Her eyes swirl in a most delightful
 mix of cerulean and jade.

Catia ducks out from under Myrineth's wing, walking forward. "This part of
 the wing is the leading edge, and is what meets the air. Your lifemate can
 angle it, unconsciously, to go up... or down." One hand illustrates this,
 very roughly. "Any damage to this will keep you out of the air for a good
 long time."

Sasha hugs her knees tighter to her, glad to be perched on the warm foreleg
 of her lifemate. With a little shiver against the cold, she enquires,
 "Presumably the bones are not strong enough to take the dragon's weight in
 the early days....thats why we can't let them fly straight away?"

Catia tilts her head towards Sasha. "Bones, musculature, all of it. Same as
 you wouldn't expect a new-born baby to walk, or a new colt to bear your
 weight...."

This of course doesn't explain why firelizards can fly straight away.

Eyes turn sober as G'deon and Nylanth both turn attention to Catia's
 instructions.  G'deon nods slowly.  "Makes sense..."

They're lighter.

Hyzen watches as her lifemate does as requested, nodding as she slowly
 moves to one side.  Big.  That's all she's got to say about her beloved
 dragon's windspread.  Placing her hands behind her back, she listens to
 Catia's words as eyes travel the delicate wing, pin-pointing what the
 other was showing.  Retracting one hand from her back, she reaches out
 to trace gently along the said lines, nodding slowly.  "What's this for?"
 And she lovingly taps the 'thumb' part of the wing 'hand'.

Catia works her way down Myrineth's wing. "This is the fingerbone," Catia
 says, bestowing a faint glare on Hyzen for the interruption. "I'm sure
 you've heard the expression 'turning on a wingtip'? Well, this is it....
 most of the change of direction comes from this little part of thing.
 Damage this, and your lifemate might lose control of flight.... it'll get
 them grounded for a long while."

Imbriath curls her neck around and down in order to get a better look. At
 Hyzen's tap, the green immediatly conducts something which can only be a
 draconic giggle. Ohhhh, that tickles! Wings come in close to her body for
 a moment, then come back out just as quickly. And that would be just quick
 enough to send flutters of powdery snow about her and in other weyrling's
 directions... most notably Nylanth's.

Sasha nods and makes a few notes in her healer notebook, sketching and
 labelling the wing that Catia is describing for future reference. Cheeks
 rosy from the icy air around her, she pauses for a moment, biting the end
 of her writing implement absently, before continuing with her drawing. As
 a scatter of snow is sprinkled over her she blinks suddenly and starts.

Ilare nods, watching and putting to memory all the details. Then winces.
 "How long would it take the leading edge to heal if it was scored by
 thread?" Not something she  trely wants to contemplate,, but it IS
 something they'll need to know, right? 

Nylanth turns quickly whirling eyes towards Imbriath, the twinkling haze of
 amusement bright.

"Now, the other end of the wing is the forestay tip.... this too gives a
 lot of the maneuvrability. Threadscore or other damage - same problem as
 the finger tip." Catia explains. Walking now slowly down the back of
 Myrineth's wing, she caresses it gently. "I'll get to that, Ilare," she
 says in small annoyance. "/This/ is the trailing edge..."

Branwyth sweeps her head around to view Imbriath, her eyes whirling
 mischievously.

Ilare winces faintly.. Whoops, sorry.

Hyzen winces slightly at the glare, closing her mouth as her answer comes
 dispite her interruption. Moving closer to Imbri, she takes comfort in the
 green body that was so fully her's.  And in doing so, she gets snowed on. 
 Moving back to her stamped place, she dusts herself off as she mock-glares
 at her green.  "Imbri..."  Warning voice, but she's not going to really
 back it up. Not with that face.  An apology nod is given the other
 weyrlings... and the other dragons're eyed.  Oh dear.  Nodding at Catia,
 she waits for the other to continue.

Cayl silently, suavely, glides in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Mzadith trip, skip, lumbers ackwardly in from the Weyrling Barracks.

"In general, any damage to the wingsails is classed as serious," Catia
 tells them. "That includes the trailing edge and the leading edge...."
 Myrineth raises her wing again so Catia can stand under it. "A dragon
 can fly with half the outside edges scored, though if the leading edge
 is damaged, the dragon will have a hard time getting off the ground
 because it won't be able to get any lift." That's Ilare's question
 answered, but Catia's lecture rolls onwards.

Imbriath turns a most puppycanine-esque face to her most beloved, adored,
 and doted upon Hyzen. Who? Me? A lilting croons escapes...and at that same
 moment and well out of sight, a tail burrows into the snow, delving
 deep... only to flick upwards to shoot a lob of loose snow Nylanth-wards.

Sasha raises a hand. "I've known runners that have had to be destroyed when
 they broke a leg.....how easy is it to repair a break in a spar or even
 one of the leading edges, and is that a common injury?"

Cayl goes home.

Catia stops mid-flow to look at Sasha - though perhaps less severely than
 the others. "Haven't you seen me fix a bone, Sasha? Breaks aren't
 uncommon, really.... and they have to be splinted and the dragon grounded
 till it fully heals. That applies to any of the wingbones - and Thread
 can sever some of the smaller ones completely. The dragon will never have
 its full flying ability again, but it /will/ fly again." 

G'deon nods at that last comment then smiles at Sasha.  "Dragons are much
 better at taking care of themselves," he offers reassuringly.  "Runners
 don't know to stay off a broken leg."

"Dragons need reminding too," Catia points out tartly. "Though they are
 more intelligent than runners, certainly." Myrineth snorts at her rider's
 head. "Even you," Catia murmurs fondly before continuing. "Any damage to
 the inner wingsails is very serious - especially because Thread can go
 straight through the sails and into the body, and hit major organs. I've
 seen it, it's not good."

Sasha grins sheepishly. "Of course I have," she chuckles with a mock
 ingratiating tone, "and a lovely job you make of it I must say! (What a
 creep I am!) " Nodding at Gid and patting Branwy's head which has swung
 round to have her eyeridges tickled, she adds "Far more intelligent!"

Nylanth again turns an amused glance towards Imbriath, though this time he
 is far from still, as a full ten feet of tail swooshes a flurry of snow
 towards the mischievous green.

Branwyth chuckles out loudat Nylanth's retaliation, her amused snort
 blasting Sasha with hot air, and nearly blowing her off her perch.
"Nylanth, pay attention," G'deon quietly reminds his own mischievous
 lifemate.

MORE snowballing dragons? Didn't we have enough of that at Midnight?
 Staying hidden behind/beside her dragon's bulk, shivering a little even
 in her jacket, Ilare nods as she listens carefully to the lecture, keeping
 the words spoken in mind. Although perhaps the whole thing can be summoned
 up with the words: keep safe, stay flying. Or something. "You've a hard
 job, Catia." Faint awe is present in her tone. The care for so many
 dragons, and the ability to help heal them, is a job that commands great
 respect. In HER eyes at least. 

Hyzen doesn't notice the tail thing until too late... and she's too busy
 trying to keep the laughter abated for any proper dealing with her
 dragon's antics.  Biting her lip hard, she manages to pay attention to
 Catia, nodding slightly.  "So once something like that happens, it's back
 to the Weyr and right to the healers?"  Got to get it straight.  And then
 she's ... 'drenched' in the snow that was flung at Imbri.  She -is-
 standing right there.  Muttering softly, she shakes herself like a feline
 would and glowers towards G'deon and his bronze.  But says nothing, again.

"If Thread hit the dragon's lung, that would be fatal," Catia continues,
 too busy tracing the lines of Myri's side to notice the fooling round.
 "If you ever get hit by Thread, it's straight between and back to the
 Healers," she tells Hyzen sternly, turning then and frowning.

Cayl silently, suavely, glides in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Sasha grabs hold of Branwyth's hide and steadies herself, feeling grateful
 that her quick reactions saved her from slipping off onto the cold snowy
 ground beneath. "Bran!" She hisses, glancing nervously at Catia to see if
 she has noticed, and then glaring into her beloved's whirling eyes,
 knowing that more than anything in the world at the moment, she wants to
 flick a tailful of snow herself. "Don't even think it!" 

Hyzen blushes deeper this time... she did it again.  Shifting
 uncomfortably-- what with snow trickling down her back and into her boots
 -- she doesn't move under the frowning of Catia.  Imbriath snorts softly,
 folding her wing back to her side as she turns slightly, whuffling the
 snow off her 'rider before eyeing Nylanth.  Heee.  Innocently does she
 duck the readily untucked wing into the snow and sends it flying towards
 bronzeling pair.  And then she turns back.  Cause she didn't do it.
 "'m sorry," mutters Hyz towards Catia before turning on her greenlet and
 scolding her silently.  Imbri manages to look properly abashed, but
 there's still that lurk of mischief about her...

Myrineth's tail twitches. There's snow. There are weyrling dragons. It
 could be fun..... *pffffpf* goes a little cloud of freezing white dust,
 all over Catia.

Cayl strides towards the training grounds, books clutched across her chest
 before her stride slows and she comes to a stop.  Another class going on
 here as well?  She obviously wasn't very good at dodging these.  However,
 a small smile relaxes on her face, the knowledge that she won't have to do
 this one until later brighting her mood.  Scooping the rather muddy/snowy
 fields, she spots her blue hunk and gives a brief wave.  Looks like he's
 been rolling in the mud.  Again.  Then her eyes scan the group, remaining
 silent.

Chanticoth eyes the snow carefully, as if contemplating scooping it into a
 little ball again and fliping it at one of the other dragons. That'd be...
 interesting...

"Thank you Myrineth...." Catia scowls, poking a gloved hand into her
 lifemate's flank. "I've forgotten what I was going to say next.... Any
 questions, anyone?"

Ilare makes a face and swats her brown. "After class." And don't pout!
 Catia is gazed at again, and she ponders a long momnent. "At what age do
 riders and their dragons tend to retire from active service? If they live
 that long.."

G'deon stands carefully still as snow flakes off one half of his face...
 and hair, and shoulder  and arm and...  Not until later, Nylanth, is his
 only comment, barely heard in the windy morning air.

Catia brushes snow from her shoulders, like so much melting dandruff. "It
 depends, Ilare... generally in their seventies a rider might retire, with
 their dragon aged 50-60 Turns. It just all depends on how fit they've
 remained throughout their active riding life. A dragon with an injured
 wing might be retired at 20-something Turns."

Hyzen *sighs and has to go soon...

Branwyth takes Myrineth's tail flick as a sign and suddenly without
 warning, straightens the leg that Sasha is sitting on and unceremoniously
 dumps her in a heap of soft snow. <<Ooops!>>

Catia * does too, but we're about done.

Myrineth flicks another scoop of snow into the air at random. "Cut it out,"
 Catia hisses at the green, turning a smiling face back on the weyrlings.
 "Any more questions?"

Hyzen taps her chin in thought, moving to lean gently against the hide of
 her green dragon-- as much for a place to lean as to keep her rather
 still.  Silly beast.  "I think I've asked all my questions..."  Yes, and
 annoyed Catia to death probably.  Poor Catia.  Imbri grumbles softly as
 she's kept in one place, tail flicking in slightly agitation.. and
 flinging the stray mound of snow...

Ilare shakes her head. "No more questions here," she smiles, before eyeing
 her brown. 

"Well, if there's anything else, I'm always around somewhere," Catia
 replies. "I'd best... erm... go...." Before Myrineth splatters anyone else
 and ruins Catia's dignity with a snowball fight.

G'deon shakes his head as well.  "I'm sure there will be questions later on
 though."

Myrineth extends a foreleg, enabling Catia to mount easily and settle
 herself between two neckridges.

Giving a brief sneeze, the ling glances around at her fellows, scopping for
 those who -don't- have another class lined up right after this one.  Cayl
 knew she needed some break time.  She'd gotten hardly /any/ sleep all last
 night.  Mzadith didn't notice the wave from before.  He's passed out in a
 lump of mud and snow, completely asleep.  Not a chance of waking him up
 unless she didn't to.  Oh well.  

Sasha's face is a picture of angry embarrassment, tempered by a nervous
 laugh which stems from the complete adoration she holds for her
 deliciously naughty green. "...and you wanted an extra oiling tonight?
 I think not!!!"  Hauling herself out of the pile but still retaining a
 sereptitious handful of powdery snow, she looks seriously at Catia
 shaking her head. "I don't have any, but I'm sure I will later..." and
 with that she casually turns and custard pie style squishes the snow
 straight in Bran's suprised face! "Gotcha!"

Myrineth coils and then bursts upwards into flight.

Above, Myrineth bursts up from the bowl below.

Above, Myrineth heads out 'neath Spires' attentive protection, circling
 towards the central bowl.

Hyzen snaps a salute towards Catia before moving away from Imbriath and
 back towards the barracks, deep in thought.  Pain to her dragon causes
 this one worry, so it seems.  Which it should.  Keep her more alert in
 flight.  Murmuring softly, she smiles warmly towards Cayl as she passes
 her, flings a jaunty wave to the other weyrlings before entering the said
 place.  Greenling glances at her fellow sibs and ponders staying out...
 but she wanted to breath on Hyzen some more.  She so scampers as best
 she can back towards where her beloved had disappeared.

Hyzen *poofs now!  Maybe be back later!  Hugs!

Imbriath shuffles with the awkward gait of a weyrling to the Weyrling
 Barracks.

Imbriath leads Hyzen out.

As the dragonhealer takes off, Cayl dares to approach the group, giving a
 parting wave to Hyzen as she heads off, and then noding to the others. 
 "Anatomy again?"  She questions.

Branwyth retaliates by swinging her tail around and scooping a mound of
 snow with it as she turns....Now that Catia has gone......whoosh! The snow
 is aimed at Sasha but scatters over the whole group.

G'deon turns to run an inspective hand along Nylanth's right wing, studying
 the various areas they'd just learned about.  He nods to Cayl and smiles. 
 "Aye."

Nylanth slowly, ever so slowly lifts a slim tail high in the air... then it
 slashes down in a flash into the snow scooping most of it straight towards
 the greenlings.

Cayl is showered finally in a mist of snow, and she blinks upwards to see
 if it's:  "Snowing again?"  But now, there's no clouds in the morning
 sky..or at least not as many as warrents a blizzard.  Shaking off a bit
 of the powder, she glances back towards Sasha and Branwyth, blinking
 and then rolling her eyes.  "I swear I'll catch my death with all this
 snow."  She gives G'deon a nod and then looks over the bronze himself.
 She shakes her head a few times.  "He's grown so big!  I've seen full
 grown greens smaller then he."  

G'deon smiles back at Cayl, beaming like a proud parent.  "Actually, all
 our dragonets are growing very well.  Healthy, all of them, and growing
 stronger every day."  He sighs somewhat wistfully as he brushes a bit of
 snow from his shoulders.  "I can't wait to show 'em what we can do in the
 air."

Sasha should have seen that one coming. Duck? Too late! Spluttering she
 brushes at the now white cloak she wears to keep out the bitter cold, and
 with a look of agonising apology, towards the others. Opening her mouth to
 say sorry for Branwyth's indescretion, she suddenly find her face is full
 of Nylanth-snow! 

Sasha blinks for a second and then an evil gleam sparkles in her eyes.
 Pullling together the biggest lump of snow she can muster, and with a
 brief glance at G'deon, as if to say 'forgive me...but....', she heaves
 the snowball with forceful accuracy right at Nylanth.

A quick nod is given, glancing to her right at her sleeping dragon.  "I
 can't wait either.  It's soon from what I've heard.  They're over half
 grown, for the most part."  And Cayl doesn't know if she can take much
 more of this growing stuff.  Least Mzadith's hunger and growing pains
 had slowed down measurably.  A glance is sent over her shoulder towards
 Sasha and she coughs, a mixture of giggles and a cold she's starting to
 catch.  Eeep!  Incoming!  Cayl quickly steps back, making sure she's not
 inline for the SashaBall.

Nylanth opens massive jaws and *snaps* them shut on Sasha's missile, his
 eyes whirling quickly. His head tilts slightly at the young woman, as if
 waiting for another one.

Branwyth obviously picking up Sasha's discontent with the pathetic attempt
 to snow Nylanth, helpfully whips a quick tailfull in his direction just
 for good measure....but her aim is not as accurate as Sasha's, and Cayl
 and her lifemate are covered in the process.

The weyrling just stares as that wall of snow comes her way, and her mouth
 starts to part in protest far faster then her hands can fly up.  *THUMP* 
 Down goes Cayl for the second time today, covered in snow.  And farther
 behind her, her dragon likewize gets covered in the drift.  However, what
 does he do?  Not a thing.  Not even a nose twitch is given as he continues
 to slumber.  Which is stranger, a speechless dragon, or Sleeping Snowy?

Nylanth goes home.
G'deon goes home.

You click your heels three times.
Chanticoth's Couch of Cuddles
Cozy, if a bit roomy for its current occupants, this dragon couch was
 designed to fit the future needs of the pair sharing it. Rushes have been
 piled deep on the raised couch, their scent and appearance indicating them
 to be newly laid down. Arranged so they lie flat, the area has been swept
 clean and dust-free. Upon one end of the couch, several quilts cover them,
 each one in brightest royal blue and deepest darkest black, patchwork
 colors of the Weyr. The smell of clean rushes and aired quilts waft about
 here, carrying with it the scent of freshly oiled dragon hide.
Curled about the couch are Jolinar and Bay.
Obvious exits:
Barracks

Chanticoth moves out of the barracks and up onto the couch.

============================  End Log  ================================