Tilarekna - Monday, December 11, 2000, 3:09 PM ---------------------------------------------- *** Connected *** Weyrling Barracks The large covered entryways open into two immense U-shaped caverns that stretch back deep into the rock of the cliffside. Glow baskets lining the cavern walls cast a soft light dispelling the shadows and illuminating the home of all High Reaches weyrlings. Stone couches, some smaller for the greens and blues and some, for bronzes and the occasional gold, so large they have to be climbed into, rise up to loom over the walkways of well-packed dirt. Along the walls nearest the entrances, shelves and pegs sport several sets of leathers and various books and tools needed when teaching and practicing; crates and supplies also take up residence in various nooks and crannies. Toward the back, a large, man-dug pool for use by the dragonets and their lifemates and several large containers kept full of fresh meat serve as conveniences for the busy residents of these barracks. Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are ten firelizards. Brown Backstreeth, blue Recounth, and green Imbriath are here. You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here. Hyzen is here. You notice Hyzen looking at you. Chanticoth senses Hyzen looking at him. Hyzen Glowing amber/gold embers flash brilliantly in the rounded face of this small weyr-child, hinting at truths untold and the mysteries and joys of being a kidlet. Short bangs decorate the high forehead then lengthen back into her usual ponytail, banded together with a small runner-clip. Pert little nose tips slightly up at the end and small mouth is usually pulled into a thoughful and reflective line. Gentle neck extends downwards, drawing ones eye onto the flat chest of a child and towards the jutting shoulders. Short arms, not showing anything in the department of muscles, lead unobtrusively into delicate hands... uncalloused and seemingly fragile, they do hold the almost unnoticable knobs of the paintbrush and stylus resting spots. Curving waist leads completely into legs, not stopping for the waist of which there doesn't seem to be... as is with most children. Resembling arms as much as is possible, her legs are also short and unmuscled to the eye. Small feet poke out from the ends of her legs, not highly noticable to one how only gives her the cursory glance as is common for the quiet and thoughtful. The clothing that covers the small form of Hyzen is specially tailored to fit her, from the very looks of it. Hugging around her throat is a long necked shirt, pale cream in color and containing a galloping runnerbeast hand stitched just to the left of her windpipe. Nothing more of that shirt is seen for it is covered by a heavier, woolen sweater of some of the finest material-- softened llama fur! A deep forest green, different patterns race across and around it, circling Hys body. A few of the rows contain black Hs on the green background which are bordered by a softened brown while the other two rows have black Os on a creamy white background. Hugging about slender waist is the beginning of her softened, dyed wher-hide pants. A slim, furry black belt keeps them tightly to her, but it is obvious that is it only for show. Colored the deepest green that is possible without going into black, they set off her figure well... not skin tight, but rather loose and flowing, with a crease down the middle of each leg. Thick socks can be seen peeking out every now and then, same hue of the pants and finally finished off with thick, brown-dyed wher-hide shoes. Happily stuffed in his little pouch, wedge head poking out, is Phoenix. Tucked safely where he can do no harm is Nauvoo. Perched proudly upon Hyzen's left shoulder is Xena, the green princess. Perched on Hyzen's right shoulder with his tail curled around their neck is Proof. She is awake and looks alert. Hyzen is 16 Turns, 9 months, and 18 days old. Imbriath Over hill, over dale, through bush, through brier; over park, over pale, through flood, through fire: midsummer green wanders everywhere, swifter than a moon's sphere to illuminate the mercurial elegance of this fey green. Emerald shadows dapple her dreamy hide, kissing the curvy sweep of her rump and tail, and freckling her underbelly with elven gold, while foxfire spins its tricksy fancies in amongst the thicket of her crafty 'ridges. Like love, every shift in hue from pixie's head to laughing tailtip savours the effervescence of her puckish frame, and creeps down to hide in the acorn cups of her earthy paws. Moonlight tangles in the wild forests of her wingsails, even as tomfoolery spangles the starlight sheen of her whirling eyes. Imbriath is 20 days old. She is 6 feet (1m) long, with a wingspan of 10 feet (3m). Imbriath seems to be listening. 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. Chanticoth is 20 days old. He is 6 feet (1m) long, with a wingspan of 10 feet (3m). Chanticoth seems to be listening. "Come on, Imbri... I've got to clean off your rushes and it'd be easier to do when there wasn't someone blocking them, lovey." Hyzen, backing out of her couch, arms reached and pulling towards her as she leads her green out. The little dragonet, tired and walking slowly and awkwardly, follows as she yawns hugely. Moving off to one side, she slumps upon the floor and rests her fey green head upon her forelegs and watches her young weyrling. Beaming, Hyz moves towards the buckets and forks and drags a pair back to her couch and begins her work, whislting softly but happily. YAWN. Two figures emerge from a different couch, one small and human and not entirely awake, the other clumsy, brown and far far bigger. Two large eyes whirl, and the hand of the brown dragon's Weyrling scritches the requested eye ridge. "Easy, darling, mind your tail," smiles Ilare, hand moving to cover yet another yawn, before the neck and shoulder of the young brown is given a fond pat. "Let me do your bed and then you can eat.." A tuneful rumble emerges from the dragonet, who turns his head and thrums cheerfully at Imbriath. Hmm, looks like he's a Morning Dragon, this one. "Stay right there, Chaanti... I'll sort out--Oh, morning, Hyzen." His lifemate is equally chirpy at this hour it seems. Well, nothing's changed there. < Local > Chanticoth senses that he yaaaaawns again, before he folds up his wings completely, and flops onto his belly, tail curling about him as he crosses his paws. << Morning, Imbriath >> his mind chimes like cheerful sleighbells, eyes warmly whirling. Hyzen pauses in her cleaning to turn and offer a bright grin to her friend. "Morning Ilare. How're you and Chanticoth?" So she's a morning type too... but that much can't be said for poor Imbriath, who has two of her three eyelids closed. One pair snaps open at the brown's welcome and she angles her head to peer at him, only offering a soft grumbling in greeting. She's too tired to -think-. Sigh. Chanticoth croons at Hyzen, eyes whirling a little faster at the greeting, before clutch mate is 'smiled' as as only a cheerful dragonet can. "I'm well, thank you. And Chanticoth says to thank you for asking; he's well, but a little hungry." Meaning breakfast is soon to be served. Which means mucking out will be quick. Yup. Ilare fetches herself fork and bucket, pausing before she starts to remove the soiled rushes. "Where do we dump these, may I ask?" she wonders quickly, while Chanticoth rests his head atop his folded front talons. Hyzen winks towards Chanticoth as she scoops and dumps, scoops and dumps-- making sure the rushes are as clean as she can possibly get them. Finishing, she sets the fork against the wall and gazes down at the bucket then towards Ilare. "I... don't know. I can't remember if they told us or not." Taking the bucket by the handle, she moves towards her friend, eyes glancing between her lifemate and Ilare. "Imbriath says she doesn't remember either..." Go figure. "Would it be on the board or something?" Ilare ahhs, and eyes glaze over a moment, gleaming gold. "Chanti can't remember either, the love," Well, he was only hatched a while back, wasn't he? Propping her tools against the couch, she pads over and runs a finger down the board, scanning the papers posted there. "Hmm... Ah! Outside," she nods, glancing with a grin over a shoulder. "There's a manure pile outside." Moving back to the cot, she starts to scoop out the damp and soiled rushes, dumping them in the bucket with her pitchfork. Cayl comes out of Mzadith's couch. Hyzen bobs her head as Ilare checks, smiling towards her half-asleep little dragon. "What's it like having a dragon that doesn't mind getting up so early? Imbri's almost alseep on her feet." Adoring gaze runs over the emerald hide of her mate as the dragon slowly rolls onto her side then her back, letting out soft noises as she does so. Eyes open fully and the growing green makes some of the oddest contortions, scratching her back against the floor. Taking her bucket again, the ex-fosterling trots out the door, coming back a few moments later. "Yup, tis out there." Depositing the bucket and fork where they belong, she looks around slowly then focuses upon the squirming Imbriath. "She's hungry... Mzadith comes out of Mzadith's couch. Ilare giggles, before carefully lifting her bucket and half-dragging have lifting it out the door. barely a moment later, she returns, before Chanticoth can start rolling his eyes and making worried sounds. "I'm back, Chanti, it's okay," she chuckles, stopping by the brown and cuddling his head to her. The brown rumbles happily, and she obliges with a skritch. "Oh, him? He likes the mornings as much as I do, I think.. He's.. very chirpy when he wakes up." Something about her expression indicates she doesn't know if this is a good thing or bad thing, but *heh* he's her life mate and she'll forgive him. "And I think your Imbriath's not the only hungry bebe in the building." Stumble..grumble..anyone see that? Lumbering out of his little nook of the caverns, (little being, of course, relative) Mzadith flashes his embered wings a few times before heading maticuously towards the food 'area'. "I can testify to -that-." Follows a whimperingly tired voice. Cayl, cloths barely tugged on, scurries after her babe, shaking her head softly. They woke up -too- early, if you asked the ex-healer. "Hey Hyz, Tilar." Regardless of the others 'now name', the poor blueling would never get used to these changes in her life. "Yes, I'm coming dear." Lumber lumber lumber-over to the supplies trough she goes. G'deon stubbles after Nylanth, nodding apologetically to the others up at this hour. Turning to the bronze he softly rubs his tiny headknob while herding him over to a good spot. "Yes, in just a moment," he answers the little one frantically, then leaves him and hurries over to the slabs of meat. Chanticoth rumbles deep in his throat happily, eyelids dropping shut as the eyeridges get itched, and hunger is, momentarily, forgotten. Happyhappy bebe brown dragon. A light giggle, as well as a sympathetic grin, are sent to Cayl, and no correction of name is made. After all, her name is as new to her as it is the rest, even if she's very comfortable with it. A second croon emerges from Chanticoth and the smile widens. "Thank you, Chanti," Ilare giggles, before hugging the dragonet about his neck. Thank you for what, she does not say. Straightening, she pauses, and starts to chuckle, caressing one of his tiny head knobs affectionately. "Yes, love, I'll get you food right now." Breakfast time for all it seems.. Hyzen stretches as she moves towards the pails of food, looking over the assorted sizes and finally picking out the ones that was prepared for her young green. "Morning Cayl, G'deon," comes her bright chirp as she lugs the still warm and steaming meat to her rolling Imbriath. "Sit up love... you can't eat upside down." Fey green warbles softly as she twists back around, now almost fully awake as she croons greetings to her newly arrived clutch sibs. Taking out a chunk of the bloody food, she offers it to Imbri, who promptly bolts it down. "You know... they seem to grow by the day..." Ponder, ponder. G'deon laughs softly as he takes one of the long sharp knives near the hanging slabs of meat, unsheathes it, and begins quickly butchering a breakfast for his lifemate. With quick long strokes he cuts off strips of the meat no longer than his hand and sets them in a bucket, careful not to drip on his uniform. Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's soft twists of azure fire freckle within your mind, embrassing in ancient warmth. As images of things past and present seem to hint at the edges, his voice takes shape. <> His voice ebbs away, a slowly dying fire, warmth left. Nylanth peers around the room for a moment, but eyes quickly return to G'deon, his tail twitching fitfully as his eyes whirl in a muted red. Cayl seems to already be starting on her own carving, moving with the skilled hands of a healer -which is also unfortunately too slow for the dragonet beside her. Still, Mzadith is patient: For a few more seconds that is. Finally, indigo dipped muzzle ruts against his 'ling's thigh, and the woman chuckles. "I'm hurrying. Yes, it tastes goo...I mean no, it doesn't. Maybe to you, but I never enjoyed the flavor of raw meat in my mouth." She takes this conversation mentally, instead of embarrassing herself with words she might happenstantially say. As she slices, Cayl looks around towards the others. "How long they had you up? Mzad waited for a long time, but then he said he could 'wait no longer'." Take the knife out here, slice the meat like this, slice slice slice slice, thunk! Meat is dropped in slices into a pail, and rosy brown nose is bapped when it tries to filch a sliver. "Now now, waiting a moment more won't kill you, darling," giggles Ilare, almost absently cutting away at the meat. Well, looks like a little bit of that short stint as a baker paid off. Chanticoth's eyes begin to whirl with hints of red, and a tinkling croon is admitted. Hers is a most vocal dragon, no? Whatever reply is obviously made mind-to-mind as eyes unfocus, and she pauses midslice. Then giggles. "Oh, alright. Open wide..." Meat is placed between waiting jaws, with a stern warning. "Don't just swallow, chew. Chanti!" "Nylanth got me up first thing the next morning," G'deon replies, laughing softly. "But that's probably a good thing, I had so much to do, the first of which was feeding myself." He plops a few more pieces of meat into the bucket, now full, and carefully cleans off his knife before resheathing it, much to the annoyance of his lifemate who is quivering now, waiting for the food. "See, patience makes perfect," G'deon tells the little bronze, returning with a rather large bucket, full of "breakfast". "Careful now, Nylanth, don't eat it too quickly." Chanticoth senses that he's mind voice - deep and soothing, for all it's flickering vivacity, illuminates against your thoughts, taking shape. <> Oh, yes, he really had something to add to the conversation. Cayl nods absently as she continues to cut. "I almost forgot to feed myself! Couldn't figure out why Mza was still hungry, even though he was passed out on a full belly. It's the weirdest thing." She chuckles, her eyes shining as they had never done before that impression day, and begins to scoop the meat scraps into a 'Mzadith' sized bucket. "Yes, I'm sure it's enough. Remember last time? And the time before?" Each time the dragonet had gotten to the bottom, he was stuffed. "Oh, and I /do/ need to get you oiled. Sigh." There was so much to do! The ling turns around and eyes the rest of the dragonets. "How do they all fair?" However, at this change in conversation -which obviously wasn't leading him any closer to the food, dragonet gives up and dives his muzzle directly into the bucket. Munch. Crunch. Gag. "/Mzzzzadith!/" Cries out Cayl as she quickly yanks the bucket out of blue's reach. (or as far as she can for a 6 foot dragon) "Sigh." G'deon firmly keeps Nylanth's head out of the bucket and begins handing him pieces of the raw meat, though he suddenly need two hands to keep up. "Are you chewing, Nylanth?" he asks, to which the little bronze simply wuffles and opens his mouth for more. Hyzen was lucky... she still had meat left over from her chopping last night. Evil her. She didn't want to waste time to hack at the beast this early. Not her. Slowly she feeds her loved one, chuckling softly at the cries from the other three weyrlings. "Should make a little extra at night... then you have leftovers." And they stay warm if you cover them. Stroking Imbri's head, she's finally finished with the bucket of meat. "Done!" Woo. Taking the food holder, she places it where it belongs and grins at her friends, just noticing that she was the only greenling awake. Lucky her? Imbriath, stuffed and stroked and itched, meanders towards her clutch-sibs, eyeing their food. Maybe she could fit a little more down? Mwah. Sidling along, she reaches out to sniff at Nylanth's portion, murmuring softly. Nylanth stops suddenly, a long piece of meat hanging from his mouth, dripping on the ground. He swings his head towards Imbriath and looks at her for a moment, eyes whirling slowly before he sets the piece on the ground, his head snapping back quickly towards G'deon who is only to happy to oblige, his own eyes twinkling as he suppress his laughter. "Good, Nylanth, maybe we can make a gentleman out of you after all." To which the bronze whuffles again with a full mouth of food, spraying little bits of blood on G'deon's clean shirt. Ilare grins, shaking her head. "Chew." Whuffle. "Not unless you chew. Or you'll choke. And then what will happen?" *snort* "Uh huh, chew Chanti. I mean it. Don't gulp it down so fast, you hear?" *Whiiinnnneee* "*Sigh*" Little jaws open, and meat is placed between those rows of teeth. Whuffling, the little dragon chews and gulps, and soon it becomes a race to keep that hungry maw filled with food. "That a lad - see? told yo-- CHEW, Chanticoth! I mean it!" Her little brown's eyes whirl at the scold, and she instantly softens. "Now now, it's okay. I just don't want you getting an upset stomach." Head knobs are rubbed, and her nuzzles her, before jaws open and food is once again placed into the near-bottomless pit. It doesn't take long till pail is empty, and a sleepy happy dragonling and his Weyrling are done with breakfast. Hyzen was busy rearranging rushes or else she would have stopped her little greenling from making a glut of herself. Imbriath, careful to be quiet as she chews -- she's a good girl-- manages a warble in Nylanth's direction. She's talented, see? Swallowing that bit, she whuffles towards bronze's hide before meandering towards Mzadith. Will blue share too? She's such a pretty and enchanting little green... who could resist such a lovely little face? *Beg* Before long the bucket between G'deon and Nylanth is also empty, though the bronze seems content for now to lick his chops clean and slowly stretch. Eyes now whirling in blues and greens watch the others carefully before a large yawn escapes his mouth, his jaws snapping shut with a snap. "See, Nylanth, I told you it'd be enough," G'deon tells the little bronze with a wink. "Yes, a nap sounds like a wonderful idea." Oookay, let's try this again: Carefully (and guardedly) Cayl lowers the bucket back to the ground. "See, everyone else is finishing up. I haven't even started. No don't give me those mournful eyes...allright.." She drags out, very easily defeated by those whirling eyes of his. Mzadith croons happily as his 'ling begins to 'dish' out slivers of meat. He'll chew, he'll chew, no need to remind him. Chewchewchew (gulp) chew (choke) chewchew (burp). Cayl rolls her eyes and looks helplessly over to the others. Imbriath lifts her head proudly... and then she's ignored. Well! Flicking her tail, the greenlet moves away from Mzadith and towards... dun, dun, dun: Chanticoth! Shareshare? See, she's being tortured here and she's starving for want of food. Really! Don't look at that empty bucket over there... Hyzen ate some too, you know! Meanwhile, finished with her cot and Imbri's bed, Hyz turns and looks around-- spotting her begging dragonet. "Imbriath! You just -ate-, silly one. Stop that." Pretending she didn't hear her lifemate, the fey one marches towards the brown with purpose. He'll share, won't he? Ilare gives Cayl a sympathetic grin as a little burp escapes the lips of Chanticoth, before he rubs against her torso with his head, eyes whirling in the more friendly blue-green shades. Now lost in those spinning orbs, she nods at him. "Aye, yes, a nap is a good thing, darling-one." Ooo, mush. Well, until a little me-me-me green waltzes her way towards them. Eyebrows arch in amusement, while amused little Chanticoth burbles at her. Nope, no food. All gone. *burp* G'deon reaches out towards his lifemate, whose head is now bobbing somewhat, the first pair of eyelids already closed. With gentle strokes G'deon cleans off some bits of... food hopefully, that Nylanth missed, then rubs his little headknobs affectionately before standing. "Time to clean up," he mumbles looking down at his rather messy clothes. Imbriath huffs as she moves away from Chanticoth, glancing towards Nylanth's bucket as she passes him. Gone too? Sheesh. Well, at least the bronze had -shared-. Stretching her wings as far as they'll reach, she yawns widely as wedged head butts against Hyzen's side. Okay, she'll be good now. Stroking her lifemate's head, she slowly lowers to one knee, reaching the spots that itch horribly. A groan of relief escapes Imbri as those spots are soothed. Oooh yes, this was what having a weyrling was for! Mzadith missed the crooning, begging green? Hah, well, more food for him. Munch. Crunch Burp. --> Hours later (minutes later) blue has had his fill: Mostly because the bucket has been bottomed out. As she sets asside the tool, she reaches for another. "Yes, I know you're itch: Don't you -see- me reaching for the oil. No, no, I'm not cross. No, I don't need to calm down. Alright." Gotta love those onesided conversations. Glancing over towards Hyzen and Imbriath, Cayl chuckles and shakes her head. "Better be careful: I heard if you feed them to much, they'll need to be purged." Ewwww. As she dips her hand into the bucket of goods, she kneels down and begins slathering under that indigo crossed chin. "Right here? Good." As Nylanth curls up neatly next to the bathing area, G'deon goes about cleaning off what he can from his uniform, washes his hands... and face, then walks towards the other end of the barracks where the "other" food is waiting. "Anyone else hungry for something that /isn't/ raw?" he asks the others. It's bloody, messy, and burping is going on. Must be feeding time! "Ah, I see that you're learning the joys of weyrlinghood." Lyri simply beams. She was doing this not so long ago. "How is everyone?" Apparently by 'everyone' she's including dragons because those are the individuals looked at first, inspecting glance going over each hide. "Make sure you use the oil, that's what it's there for, and their hides need to be kept from cracking." Or she'll never hear the end of it. Cayl is completely covered in slime now, so of course she's alright: Because most of Mzadith is as well. "We're...fine." she states towards the weyrlingmaster, then blinks, jumping up (kinda) and her hand snaps in a strange salute. One that ends up smearing slauve all over her brow. Oooch. Chanticoth croons, before shuffling towards the bathing area and HIS spot. Right in the middle. Just by the water. Yup, yup, yup. Now, nap? Then bath? Yes? And this eyeridge itches most abominably. "If you didn't eat so much, you wouldn't outgrow your hide and make yourself all itchy, love," Ilare giggles, walking by the little dragon, minding he doesn't catch his wings underfoot. While he's settling himself by the bathing area, Lyri's voice is heard and both dragonet and Weyrling turn to smile at Lyri. "Chanticoth says he's not hungry anymore," a blessing, "But he's a little bit itchy," Which is why she's going to get some oil, "and wants a nap." With his head on her lap, no doubt. "But otherwise, he says to tell you we're both fine." A bright smile is directed at the older rider, along with a polite nod. "How're you?" Only polite to ask, no? Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's soft, withered-rose voice once more intrudes his thoughts upon you. <> He doesn't sound unsure; mostly curious. So inthralled with Imbriath is Hyzen that the new weyrling doesn't hear Lyri's entrance until she speaks. Turning to offer a bright grin to the 'rider, she offers a salute-- much cleaner than Cayl's-- and reaches towards the pot of oil. Greenling rumbles softly, whirling eyes focused upon Lyri before they turn towards the pot. Oooh yes, that's the good stuff! But Ilare's brown directs her to look towards the water... which was looking rather fine. Smooth words in Hyzen's mind draws the girl to look upon little green then towards the water. "Yes, go ahead. I should have thought about that." Motioning Imbri towards where Chanticoth was bathing, she opens her trunk and moves things around before drawing out a rag and scrubbrush. She was prepared! Nylanth opens one eye slightly to see what's going on, but then tucks his head farther under his forearm. G'deon also watches off to the side as he begins assembling a rather large breakfast for himself, an unconscious smile creasing his face as he nods. Lyri stifles a chuckle at Cayl's actions. "No need for that, especially while you're busy with your lifemate.. oiling's more important, you know.." Besides, she's just never going to get used to that. Ilare is given a chuckle. "Well, outspoken, isn't he? Good, good." Beam. She likes big mouths.. she /is/ one. "Good, now that I've recovered.." From the hatching and the following hangovers. "And since you are all settling in well..I suppose things must be going quite well." Chanticoth senses that Imbriath sweet and smooth tones inflict upon the other weyrlings, a hint of childish and giddy laughter pinging in the distance as she responds to Mzadith. << Is it because of the new one? The one that just entered? >> But then... confusion is there now since Hyzen wasn't showing the same signs. Cayl lowers her hand, groaning as her other reaches up to pluck a sliver of slauve. "Yay." Well, she /was/ well oiled now, as for Mzadith: That's a different story. The ling glances down at the blue-boy (I'm blue dadadee dadee dum!) and reaches out both hands. "Here dear, you take this. And this. And that." Eeee. As she continues to smear the left over slauve over her dragonet's ridges and neck, she glances back towards Lyri. "Going well, but still not quite settled in. I guess m'still in shock." And would likely be so for her remaining turns. Emperiously the cobalt beside her arches upwards, crooning lowly in a greeting that hides a hint of childish respect. Tail dances pleasantly behind him and wings flutter the sound of falling leaves. Obviously Mzadith's happy to see Lyri as well. Bathing? Ooo... Wistful eyes turn to Ilare, who blinks as a request is relayed.. "You want to... But I thought you we--Wait! No!" //SPLASH// Too late! Not only does Chanticoth have a big 'mouth' but he also makes a big splash, soaking his Weyrling as he slumps into the water. Spluttering, Ilare misses anything about her dragon as she stares at the slightly contrite brownling, currently peeking eyes and nostrils just abouve the water, eyes whirling in apology. "Chant-iiii.." and this is a brand new uniform, too! *sigh* "You could have waited a mo--uh, wai--" *SPLASH* A glare is directed at Hyzen now as a green dragonet joins her bebe, and Ilare ends up a sopping wet Weyrling. Bleah. "You lot... are all out to get me," she mutters, but her mouth forms a smile. You notice Lyri looking at you. Lyri laughs at Cayl. "Welcome to being a rider.. it never really wears off... just be glad that he's blue." Whatever that means. The antics of the other pair are noted and she simply shakes her head. "Well.. so far everything's normal..." Wince.. oh boy, this is going to be a /long/ weyrlinghood. "Right.. well, if you'll all excuse me? Nia needs to be oiled as well and..." And she needs wine.. lots of wine. "I need to get a few things put together." Run. Now. Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's voice pools in liquid flames of cobalt and the choking, vined amber of hinted worry. <> G'deon returns to the weyrlings and rider, a small plate in his hands piled with rather haphazardly assembled sandwiches on it. "Anyone still hungry after that?" he asks, setting the plate down nearby after taking one for himself. He turns to watch the two dragons in the water, an amused smile on his face. He grins at Lyri. "This is normal, right?" Lyri nods to G'deon as she leaves. "Very." Moohahahaaa. Be afraid. Chanticoth senses that he croons an apology to his lifemate, and deep voice crackles like a popping log fire as the warmth of his mindvoice echos about. <> Curiousness tinges his voice. <> Hyzen holds up the two articals proudly before following Imbriath towards the water, holding back as the green goes darting in... and soaks Ilare. Biting her lips to keep back the laughter, greenling shakes her head slowly. "Sorry, Ilare. Didn't know she'd get you too..." Cough. "Imbri, that wasn't very nice. Maybe Ilare didn't want to get wet again." Looking away to hide the laughter in her face, youngest weyrling approaches the edge of the water carefully, eyeing the two playful ones within its depths. No splash. "What, you aren't going to help us, Lyri?" She's teasing of course... right? Yup. "Imbri, don't get me overly wet, you." And in goes Hyzen. Lyri walks to the Bowl. Cayl glances back towards G'deon and thinks about it. "I might pick me up somethin' later, but I'm not really hungry now." No surprise since she's spent the last half hour trying not to think about how she could still 'taste' the morsels she put in Mzadith's mouth. Shiver. As she continues to slauve, she watches the other weyrlings with a proud smirk. "Already got that done earlier today." Towards which she shouldn't be so proud: Mza'd woken her up because he wanted 'to be clean'. Groan. Chanticoth senses that Mzadith pipes in, this time more cheerful. <> Problem, whatever it was, is solved. The dragonie settles down for his 'nice oilin'. Ilare rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, plaited mane swinging. "Bah, foo. Well, never mind. I'll dry off soon enough..." Chanticoth's head doesn't rise any higher from the water, eyes still whirling, and she smiles at him, heart melting. "Oh, you're forgiven. Just warn me next time. And it's not that funny, 'Zen!" Then why is her voice brimming with laughter? Wandering towards her couch, she removes a scrubbing brush as well, and sliding off her boots and rolling up her sleeves, she slides into the water by her bobbing dragon, doing his best Impression of a swan. If there were swans on Pern. Crooning, eyes whirling at Ilare, he turns to gaze at Hyzen and Imbriath flicking a wing, sending a wave towards his green bathing partner. Chanticoth senses that his mindvoice bubbles with soft chocolaty velvetness, richness coating his words. <> Oh dear, what's that look his lifemate's shooting at him? <> His mental tone is amused, and he ducks his nose into the water, sending a flick at the greenling Weyrling and his clutch mate. Cayl shakes her head as she comes back from a long, private conversation with Mzadith and glances around his sleeked form. "I think we're done. At least with that. Oh..alright. Go ahead. Though don't mind the pitchfork. I have to clean your rushes still. Wait, better yet, go sleep in Chanticoth's couch." Beamk. Weyrling looks over to Ilare with a devious grin, snickering before she shakes her head. "I'm sure he won't mind. Oh, alright. Just curl up here while I clean out the couch. I'm sorry if it's a lil uncomfortable." She rolls her eyes and heads off for the couch. Imbriath basks in the water that is thrown her way, arching her head and closing the first lid over her whirling, green-blue eyes. Wings, which had been drawn out of the wing, slowly and languidly dip into the swirling liquid as if testing the warmth of it. Reaching her head towards Hyzen, the young one gently clamps onto the greenling's shirt and draws her even closer. Mrrr. Laughing, Hyz glances towards Ilare, nodding her head. "It was too that funny. You should have seen your face!" Uh oh... "Imbr--!" *fwoosh!* Sighing heavily, Hyz looks down at her drenched self. Ilare blinks from the water, before an indignant squeak escapes her. "Cayl! I've just cleaned that!" An equally indignant bugle is trumpeted, hitting an unexpected high note, and brownling pair glare. That's OUR bed! Chanticoth senses that Imbriath's lovely tones of sweet things with that deep aspect of secrets known and well kept reaches out towards the minds of those of her siblings. << Guess not... >> Laughter there, now, twinkling and light as any child's will be. Chanticoth senses that he warbles in amusement at Imbriath, before blue clutch-mate is glared at. <> Possessive much? Think this is bad? Watch him bicker with Ilare over his lifemate's fire lizard. (<>) Coming from the slightly rised platform, Cay stares over the edge and snickers. "Well, /you/ be the one to remove the lumez. He's a lil' heavy to carry, especially on a full belly." Mzadith, as if on cue, climbs up into Chanticoth's couch, rumaging around like he owns the place. Hey, he's just following orders. Wings flop above and behind him, uselessly fanning the air and sending a few rushes scattering. Oye, Cayl's gonna pay for this one. Chanticoth senses that Mzadith croons in near delighted shades of passive azured velvet. <> And the firelizzen within made such /good/ snacks. Ilare frowns, not finding it funny. Of course, that doesn't explain the eye-twinkling. Her life mate bobs upon the water, placing forefeet on the lip of the pool. "Tell your blue to move his tail out of there before Chanticoth and I drag him out." Cool, casual threat, don'tcha know? Chanticoth hauls his drippping body out of the waters, before he and Ilare exchange a glance... And the brownling grin. "Wonderful idea, Chanti!" Chanticoth senses that he huffs and puffs, and wanders towards the couch of Mzadith. <> Brown dragonling wanders across, eyes the couch, glances at Ilare... and shakes himself, water flying from his wings across allllll of the couch. And any other objects within. <> Cayl snickers evilly and nods her head. "Sure, alright." She looks over down the line of couches as her eyes unfocus. Meanwhile she grabs the pitchfork from it's tight 'corner' spot and sets to work on her own couch. Ewwww: She /didn't/ want to know what that was in a previously life. Unfortunately, she -did-, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Moments later, a long, cobalt tail swings over the edge of the couch, muzzle still rumaging around. Swing, swing, swing. Chanticoth senses Mzadith thinks << I removed my tail. >> to him. Chanticoth thinks to you, << I bespoke Mzadith with: Chanticoth thinks << <> >> to him. >> Chanticoth senses Mzadith thinks << That would be, unfortunately, impossible without detaching it from my muscle. And I refuse do go -that- far to please. >> to him. Chanticoth thinks to you, << I bespoke Mzadith with: Chanticoth rumbles a little, eyes whirling faster. <>. to him. >> The horror! With a startled squeek, Mzadith leaps off the room-facing side of the couch and tumbles to the ground with a soft 'thud'. Picking himself up with practiced ease (he's always falling), the bluelet stares at Chanticoth with unrefrained shock. -Not- funny. Snort. The 'calm, collected' creature puffs out his 'mannly' chest and straightens himself up completely. Tail flickers behind him and he hovers beside the couch protectively. Mine. And Cayl mine. This all mine mine mine! (spoiled brat phase) G'deon releases Rei, who immediately launches into the air high as he can go, then stops, hovering, overlooking the area before finding a discreet perch. Well, lookit. Mzadith moved! Chanticoth turns his slightly drier head towards his chosen, and Ilare shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "You, darling, are impossible. Play nice now, Mzadith did move." Whuffling, brown 'snickers' mentally, eyes whirling, before shuffling back toward Ilare. Well, it DID get that blue clutch-mate of his out of his bed, no? But lookit... "Oh, I'm sure Cayl will be more than happy to clean up her dragon's messes, darling," she sooths, leading him back to the lip of the pool, and the oil. He gently nudges her side, and she nods. "I know you're itchy - let me oil you first, then you can nap." Chanticoth senses that he warbles contently, eyes fastening on Mzadith. <> is crooned a tad too sweetly, before he turns to his lifemate. <> All is not well in paradise, however, as a midnight hued tail snakes its way up towards the lip of the couch once more. Snort. Mzadith? Beat so easily? Not likely. Eyes whirl a frustrated yellowish green before the babe follows the rest of his tail and leaps back into the couch. Then right back out. Pay no attention to the leapfrogging dragonet: Cayl certainly isn't. If she'd known what her ling was up to, she'd probably stop him. As it is, she's messing with something particularly... unfathonable. Yuck! Chanticoth senses that Mzadith thinks << You put your right tail in, you put your left wing in, you jump all the way in and you shake your rump around. You do the couch-leapy>> Okay, obviously he's not in tune <> Ilare blinks and watches over her brown's shoulders as she oils him down his neck, bewteen ridges and the folds of his wings, trying not to laugh. "Um, Cayl?" Well, it will be her who tidies up the mess.. "Cayl, I think..." A little help here? Chanticoth forgets the need to kick some tail and protect his couch; Mzadith is far more amusing to watch. Cayl peers over the edge of her couch, an exasperated look upon her features. "What now?" Oh, wait, where's her dragon? Eyes scan the room and the weyrling drops the shovel of..well..you don't wanna know, and falls backwards in a fit of laughter. "Mz...mza..-what- are you doing?" This is said between the rolling thunder that is Cayl's laugh. Meanwhile, quite delighted to have pleased everyone -he doesn't realize that all the rushes that fall to the floor will /have/ to be cleaned up by his ling-, the bluelet delights in his new game! He continues chanting the non-sense song as he wiggles his little stuff, wings flapping about like paper-mache. Chanticoth senses that he watches, whirling his eyes. <> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's voice melts like cookied carmel over azure-lit flame. <> Obviously keeping the muzzle on the couch wasn't a good idea. Ilare gives a wince, and a croon escapes Chanticoth - one of sympathy. Ow! Rubbing a ridge on her dragon, she shakes her head. Owwie. "He okay?" Chanti's eyes whirl in colours and he nuzzles his lifemate, earning a rub of oil between eyeridges. Mzadith's eyes whirl a franticly dizzy twist of red and blue, green and nearly gold! Obviously he's more startled then hurt, but that doesn't stop Cayl from leaping down from her couch and coming to her 'ling's aid. "Oh Mzadi..." The croons out softly, rubbing that spot of indigo under his chin, the contact point. "Are you alright dear?" her eyes unfocus and a little giggle comes out. "Yes, they are 'perty colors'. Come now, les' put you in your /own/ bed. I've still got work, but you're more important. Yes, I know you know that. Come now. You sure you're okay?" The bluelet wobbliedy day's over to his own couch and precariously -with some assistance from Cayl, pulls himself up. He's out like a lightbulb moments later, Cayl curled around him. Awe, how sweet :) Mzadith goes into Mzadith's couch. Ilare shakes her head, before giggling as a oiled nose nuzzles her face. "Hey, easy klah-bunny, my skin doesn't need oiling like your hide does!" Giggling, she moves out of the way as he rises to his feet, lifting tail high. Looking at the couch, she scowls. "Cayl!" Too late, it seems.. Getting a broom, her brownling watches as she sweeps up the scattered rushes, tidying their sleeping area and flattening the bedding. Once she's done, the brown dragonet clambers up and settles himself, curling up nose to tail, head resting on his forefeet/paws/talons. Smiling, Ilare strokes his eyeridges soothingly, watching all three lids slide shut. There... Sitting on the edge of the couch, she sighs and glances down at her damp, oily self. "Seems I'm the one in need of a bath," she mock-complains. G'deon scrambles back out of the couch in a pair of shorts and grins at Nylanth. "Alright, just hold on a sec." He splashes into the pool and beckons for the bronze to follow. Nylanth bugles softly and splashes in, making a general wet mess in the process. Nylanth yawns slowly as he stretches his front forearms in the water... but a bit to far and his snout enters the water. Shaking his head vehemently the young bronze looks at G'deon almost accusingly. Laughing softly, G'deon just shakes his head. "You had plenty of time to stretch up there... where it's dry," he tells his lifemate, rubbing his droplet-speckled nose affectionately. "Now let me get this done and we'll get some oil on those places that itch," he adds, reaching up to scratch at his own neck. Catia walks slowly in from the Training Grounds. Catia Slender and of average height, turns of dragonriding keep trim the ripened curves of motherhood. Maturity may have softened Catia's figure, but it has sharpened her tongue: finely-curved eyebrows are more ready than ever to arch in disdain or amusement. Near-black locks frame a generally solemn face, cropped back from waist-length waves to mere jaw-skimming wisps. Almond dark eyes glint with an occasional mischief that can light delicate features with a warm glow; dusk-rose lips quirk with a relaxed smile that seems ever more frequent these days. Long, lightly-tanned limbs move with an easy, confident grace; shell-pink nails are still ragged and chewed, even though the myriad tiny fish-net scars that criss-cross capable hands have faded to mere pale lines. Fitted pants of deep blue display toned legs to their best advantage, fine woven cloth made and sewn with a Master's expertise. Untucked as always, a white shirt of softest linen billows around Catia's torso, brushing her hips; the first two of its polished horn buttons undone. She is awake and looks alert. Catia is 38 Turns, 9 months, and 16 days old. Catia enters the barracks with a cheery call of "Any weyrlingmasters here?" Spotting Lyri, she heads towards the greenrider, asking, "Are they all set for a lesson, d'you think? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Lyri has just walked in as well, a moment before, and is looking about the barracks, inspecting the floor for signs of any sort of mess. "Looks like you've all been busy." Which is good, because that means little work for her. Catia's entrance is noted and the rider given a smile. "Oh, more than ready." Interrupting? "Not interrupting at all, I'm just looking the barracks over, making sure everything is as it should be." Yeah.. see? Working.... um.. right. G'deon quickly finishes rubbing oil into Nylanth's hide just as the little bronze decides it's time for yet another nap. The weyrling looks up and nods at Catia, his eyes twinkling. "Great." Catia looks around at the weyrlings with a sideways smile, recognising most of them... if not yet their lifemates. "Can everyone come up to the front of the barracks then," she hollers, loud enough almost to be heard at the other end of the rank of couches. She herself takes up a table perch, to see and be seen. Ilare blinks up from her couch, eyes focusing away from the napping dragon there to smile at Catia. Lyri is giggled at, and the bebe brown whuffles her wrist lightly, earning a caress across the nose. "Coming," she calls, patting Chanticoth once more before standing in her still-damp clothes and sliding on somee light black slippers as she pads towards the dragonhealer. Hyzen has been quietly scrubbing the hide of her young green, finishing a few minutes before Catia walks in the door. Moving out of the water, she gazes down at her drenched clothing and sighs softly before moving to the couch she shares with her love. And then the hollar comes. Smiling at Imbriath's complaint, she quickly takes out a rub rag and goes over her greenlet's hide, not too fast as to miss a place, but fast enough to not keep Catia waiting. Done, she puts the rubrag away and scampers towards the front of the barracks, Imbri on her heels, letting out happy little noises as she does so. G'deon looks to see if Nylanth is comfortable, then heads over to the directed area, water still dripping from time to time from his shorts, a towel draped around his neck. "Dragons too," Catia calls, beckoning the group forward. "Come and sit down...." One foot taps the air as she swings her legs, waiting for them to get settled. Lyri just grins, she's been through this before. A seat is taken away from the others and she watches, amused and a bit distant, as if she were conversing with someone silently. "This is going to be interesting," the others are informed. Nylanth is all to happy to follow behind his mate, his scolding whimpers directed at G'deon who just beckons after him, then grins at Lyri. Dragons too? Glancing over her shoulder, a twitch of a wing is all the answer she receives. Frowning faintly, her eyes unfocus, and a sigh escapes her dragon. Well, Chanticoth wasn't REALLY napping. Rising from his couch, his oiled hide glinting, the brown sliding off his couch and making his way over to Ilare. Morning dragon he may be, but boy he's cranky when forced out of bed.. Rubbing his headknobs affectionately, Ilare turns her smile on Catia. Hyzen already has her dragon with her... the two not liking to be separated even over such small distances. Coming to a halt near Catia, greenling stands tall and offers the two a salute before she settles down for the lesson, lifemate right by her side. Imbriath folds her wings gently and settles her head upon Hyz's lap, a soft purr-like noise escaping her. It /might/ be interesting. Catia gets started anyway. "Your dragons are now... what, a couple of sevendays old? And I'm sure you've all noticed how they've grown. Well, what I'm going to talk about is how much more you can expect them to grow... plus some pointers on taking care of them properly." Looking out over the weyrlings, she smiles. "All your dragonets do at the moment is geared towards their growth. By the time they're four months old, they'll be nearly half their adult size - and they don't reach that till they're 18 months old!" G'deon nods slowly as he takes a seat on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him just before Nylanth can lay his well-oiled head in the weyrling's lap. Lyri snaps her fingers to get the attention of a pair of bluelings in the back, giving her sternest look before turning back to Catia to listen, her eyes flickering back to the crowd every so often. Ilare smiles, as Chanticoth lies his head on her lap, eyes whirling. Yes, he's grown from the hip-high bebe he hatched as. Smiling gently, she gazes and nods at Catia in understanding. "To do all this growing, they do a lot of eating. Some dragonets are also keen to overeat, too," Catia lectures, looking across the young dragons as if spotting for fat ones. "Which isn't a good idea... they'll get sick, or constipated, and either which way, /you/ get to clear it up." She points a finger generally into the crowd... then waves her hand towards the mucking-out forks. "Something that you'll have to keep doing anyway till your dragons are old enough to go between - generally at about a Turn or so." So work out how much manure that's going to be! Hyzen has noticed had fast Imbriath seemed to grow over the days they'd been together. Not surprising, considering what her final size would be... -big-. Catia's comment about orver-eating makes Hyzen blush slight before a mock-stern glare is given the green head on her lap. "You hear her, Imbri? She knows what she's talking about." Greenling rumbles softly, eyeing Catia before closing the first lid of her eyes. Yawn... she's tired. G'deon's face falls just a tad bit, but still noticable. "A whole Turn?" he mumbles, looking at the knobby head in his lap. Nylanth just glances up at the lad, his eyes whirling blue, then sets his head back down, his eyelids drooping half way. "Anyone have to be purged yet, Lyri?" Catia calls over the assistant weyrlingmaster. "I know I haven't been called in, so I guess if there was, it wasn't anything you couldn't handle..." Assuming a stern expression, she announces to the 'lings: "Keep an eye on your dragon's tail. They excrete from between the fork, so if the tail's got thicker, that means they're constipated and will require a purge. Which Lyri and her colleagues will administer - or I will - but you have to clean up the results." Just like everything else. Ilare grins at that, remembering the tales her father told her, and an affectionate rub of the nose is given her dragon. "Told you..2 she murmurs under her breath, before, nodding in understanding at Catia. Raising a hand, she tilts her head at the healer. "Purged?" Blinkblink. Ooooo, not pleasant. Lyri eyes the 'lings, her expression amused; it took her a while to get used to that too. None of that matters now, Nia can go between. Catia is given a nod, her expression going from amusement to a forced levity. "Two." Yuck. Fun. "I'm sure that I won't have a repeat." Glare. The brownling and the bronzeling are given the _look_. G'deon absently rubs behind the eyeridges of the little bronze head in his lap as he watches Catia attentively. Catia grins at that. "Well, good luck to you... I doubt you'll be that fortunate though, Lyri." The dragonhealer's feet kick idly as she adjusts her seat on the table. "Purging involves a funnel and some nasty tasting stuff made from pergin berries.... and that's as much as I'll say. But keep a watch on your lifemate's tail, and don't let them overeat." Chanticoth's eyes whirl at Lyri: Him? Overeat? Rush his food? But she won't let me! Mournful colours fill his eyes, and Ilare makes soothing sounds. "Now now, silly. I won't let you over eat.." "You'll have to keep telling your dragonets, too. One of the good things is that they have very short memories - which is also one of the bad things," Catia continues to lecture. "They might forget Threadscore quickly, but they also forget that they musn't eat too fast. It's up to you to discipline your dragons, and I'm sure Lyri will agree with me that it's important you do so - you're the ones who get punished, not them." Hyzen slowly runs her hands along the soft and bumpy head that rests trustingly in her lap, purring noises slowly drifting off when weyrling silently wishes it so. Seems Hyzen missed the _look_, lucky her, though she might've needed it this morning. Sigh. Imbri just wouldn't give up sometimes. If she wasn't bother her mate about it, she was begging from others. "Why is that so? Why do firelizards are good memroies and dragons bad? Aren't they related?" G'deon winces slightly, his nose wrinkling up into a suddenly boyish face. "Yes, that's a very good thing to remember," he mutters, glancing down at Nylanth pointedly. Lyri steps away for a moment to scrawl out a message to someone. Lyri returns, sending a firelizard off to deliver the message. "Good question... erm.... Hyzen," Catia tells the girl with the green in her lap. "I have no idea... I'm not sure anyone does. Perhaps dragons gave up memory in favour of size.... I don't know. But their short memories are blessings in Threadfall, as you'll find out." Lyri nods to Catia. "Very." Of course, she's one of those who will be giving out the punishment, so be afraid. Ilare winces briefly, ouch! Well, Chanti won't get a chance to forget. "I agree," she chuckles at G'deon, and a warm whuffle of air from Chan frees her of the chill caused by her damp clothing. Catia's foot moves back and forth, back and forth. "Another part of the dragons eating so much to grow is that their skin doesn't grow quite so fast, hence they need regular baths and oilings. I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that as they get bigger and their growth slows down, they won't need to be oiled so much.... You're probably all getting those itchy sensations from them right now." Lyri wasn't going to let them in on /that/ part just yet.. let them figure it out on their own. Well, not really, she wouldn't do that. A grin curves her lips as she eyes the young dragons, a chuckle emerging from her for a moment. Nylanth looks up at Catia, his half-lidded eyes following the motion of her swinging feet for a moment before a long slow yawn cracks his jaws open just before he can close them again with a snap. G'deon just grins at the woman and nods, his own hand quickly snatched from his other arm which he'd been scratching at the moment. "Check where they're itching though," Catia grins at G'deon. "When you're bathing and oiling them is the perfect opportunity to check their skin for imperfections... lumps, bumps, loose bits, broken skin, etc. Be very very careful when washing their wings - I'm sure you'll get shown how to do it properly." Hyzen ponders the answer given her, nodding slowly as she soothes her little green into a light sleep, smiling warmly at the soft hum that drifts to her ears. "Size over memory..." Personally, she'd rather keep her memory. Oh well, she'll be Imbri's for her. "Could you oil your dragon -too- much?" Imbri certainly doesn't think so... but she's young and silly. Whuffle. He's BEEN oiled, see? See the shiny oil? Chanticoth bends his neck, and extends his wings a little, while Ilare chuckles. Silly brownling. "How often will they need oiling once they've reached full growth? Or even half growth?" she wonders aloud, not picturing the size her baby might be when he's older. G'deon promtly sits on his hands, the lightest tinge of pink touching his face before quickly disappearing as he grins up at Catia. Hyzen's question brings his head around to glance at her as he nods, looking again at Catia. "No... their skin's soft, but it'll only soak up a certain amount, same as your own skin, or your firelizards'," Catia answers one questioner, frowning as she momentarily loses track. "And as often as they want you too, Tilarekna... Oiling after bathing, to stop the skin cracking. Anyone know why cracked skin is dangerous for dragons and firelizards?" Time to turn the tables and ask /them/. Lyri grins. Yep, they all get to get in and bathe with her.. and their dragons, of course. A nod is sent Catia-ward before her gaze goes to G'deon, questioning; does she even /want/ to know? "It can hurt them ::Between::?" G'deon asks. Catia waggles a hand in the air. "Well... that's about right. The cold can get in, and certainly can damage the tissue beneath - like very bad frostbite. Even if they're not a long time between, their hide's developed to protect what's beneath, same as the riding leathers we wear..." Ilare chuckles softly, and Chanticoth makes a noise. "It's Ilare now, ma'am," she corrects, before putting the answer to memory, and trying to answer the question. "Itchy hide is uncomfotable, and hurts when they wear their leather straps. It can cause rubbing and wounds.." Is that right? Lyri shudders, even /those/ don't keep her backside warm enough. "Between.. more like protecting them from the weather here," she mutters, her voice quiet so that she doesn't interrupt. "Ilare," Catia repeats quickly. "Well, that wasn't what I asked, exactly, but that's right. You'll learn about the right material for straps and so on soon, when you come to make them. Riding straps are padded to minimise discomfort to the skin..." Yes, Catia talks like a textbook sometimes, but she's been teaching for more years than some of them have been alive. "Let me see now... Oh yes. If you do spot something that doesn't seem right, ask a weyrlingmaster to check it, and they'll get me or Thesy or L'shil if it's serious." Hyzen is silent for a time, listening to the others as they speak up and voice their opinions. Imbri's going to love -that-... that one couldn't oil her -too- much. If she found out. Evil Hyz. "Not to mention we'd never hear the end of it from the other 'riders and our dragon..." She found out that an itchy dragon was -loud- when it wanted to be. Ilare ahhs, and nods. "I get it now, thank you." A second rub of her dragon's nose earns her a prod in the sides. Luvluvluv.. Winking at her dragon, she nods again to both Catia and Lyri. "Report anything to them or you. Got it." "Itching's not fun," Catia sympathises, with a glance outwards.... to where Myrineth waits patiently. "In general, tell Lyri and R'sli and so on first... they'll get me if they need to," she tells Ilare, picking at a loose thread on her knee while she tries to recall the lesson plan. "The only other thing I wanted to mention is about flying.... Your dragonets will learn to fly when they're about 10 months old. Don't even /think/ of trying to let them into the air before then." And hopefully her voice and face are stern enough. Nylanth lifts his head lazily at that and turns it slowly to look up at G'deon. "Yes, she's serious," he tells the little bronze in a hushed voice, massaging his little head and neck. Ilare gives a smile and a nod. Chanticoth just gazes at the Catia-person. No flying? Vat ist dis flying you speak ov? Looking backk to Ilare, she give a soothing smile. "Don't worry, I won't." Heck, she won't feed him unless he chews his food! "I mean it, klah-bun.. No flying.." Lyri adds a stern look to Catia's words, sending it toward the weyrlings. "There'll be sever punishment for those who break that rule." Just a friendly reminder from you sweet little AWLM. Having glared at everyone, she settles back to listen, watching the weyrlings and their dragons. Catia shrugs both shoulders. "I'll be holding another class before your first flying lessons, to talk about wings and how to treat them. But the weyrlingmaster's will start giving you exercises to do, to strengthen wing muscles." Dragon aerobics - very entertaining to watch. "Now, I'm done for the moment... any questions? Any /more/ questions?" G'deon smiles at Catia for a moment before resuming the gentle massages on Nylanth's head, who by now is emitting a very faint rumbling sound. "Thank you for the class, Catia," he remembers to say. Ilare shakes her head. "Not at the moment, Ma'am." But when she DOES, she can always ask later? Or sooner, whichever comes first. "Thankyou for the class, Catia." Her brownling croons, eyes whirling sleepily at the green-riding healer. "Nothing more, ma'am." But later... that'll be a different story. Poor weyrlingmasters! Shifting slightly under the rather large head, Hyzen peers at the two before them. "No flying..." Whispered words... but more in hope for when they were -allowed- to do so. "They're all yours again then, Lyri!" Catia declares, hopping off the table. "I hope I don't have to come here again too soon...." G'deon nudges Nylanth out of his dreaming and stands, helping the little bronze to his feet. "Aye, hopefully you won't," he tells the rider with a smile. Lyri has disconnected. Lyri falls asleep. Ilare nods, "I hope so as well.. No offense," she adds, before rising, minding the head on her lap. "C'mon sleepy, lets finish that nap of yours, hmm?" Lyri is nodded to, but not stepped towards, and Catia grinned at. "Thanks again," before shooing Chanticoth to his couch. Catia heads out, nodding at the weyrlings genially. Catia walks slowly to the Bowl. ==================== End Log ====================