Tilarekna - Tuesday, December 12, 2000, 10:25 AM ------------------------------------------------ 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 Seth, Jolinar, and Kairo. Brown Chanticoth is here. Obvious exits: Barracks 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. To the southwest, you see Zaqith and Niamhyth. Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are nine firelizards. Brown Backstreeth, blue Recounth, and blue Catiminith are here. You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here. Obvious exits: Staff Office Bowl Couches 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 1 month old. He is 6 feet (1m) long, with a wingspan of 10 feet (3m). Chanticoth senses Ilare looking at him. Ilare A bright smile filled with warmth shines out from creamy-tan skin, framed by red-gold curls that fall in waves to the middle of her back. Locks once always in total disarray, obscuring amber eyes light enough to be considered golden, have finally become tame and controllable. Tanned skin is clean with a row of freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones, the final hints of childhood pudginess fading to the faintest hint. Not willowy, she'll never be that, but strongly built and sturdy, as agile on her feet as a dragon midair. Having reached 5'6, she gives the impression of being taller through sheer smiliness and an insatiable friendliness. Alert and cheerful, her eyes seem to sparkle more since her Impression of Chanticoth, glowing almost bright gold when they're together. Royal blue, bright and crisp, has been fashioned into a silken shirt, long sleeves ending in neat cuffs, buttoned neatly down the front. Tucked into darkest shadow-tanned wher-hide trousers, which cling to her elegant not-so-long legs, close fit snug but not overly tight. Black belt is worn, with a gold buckle that glints faintly, while knee high black boots, lined with soft down, fit her feet comfortably. Watching alertly from Ilare's shoulder is Bay, eyes whirling in fun friendly colours. Nestled in Ilare's hair like a crown is Kairo. Curled snuggly about Ilare's neck is Jolinar. A double twisted cord, one strand blue and one black, in a single loop, with a ribbon the color of Chanticoth - deepest, richest brown - threaded into it. She is awake and looks alert. You notice Ilare looking at you. Ilare is 18 Turns, 5 months, and 4 days old. Chanticoth senses that he stirs, rich warmth like fresh klah bubbling to the surface as his thoughts reach out to others. <> Chanticoth senses that Sardrinth chuckles sleepily, a faint echo of the tingling bells when he's awake << Now look! The little ones can talk! >> Chanticoth senses that he bubbles, mind voice rich and warm, soothing.. And very sleepy.. <> Well, he doesn't think so. But he's not really seen any other dragons but those he hatched with. Forgive him. he's only a bebe. Chanticoth senses that Trydanth joins in Sardrinth's amusement, the crack and fizzle of sparks underlying his drowsy tones. << Little. Very little. But you will grow. >> Chanticoth senses that he is silent a moment, warmth swirlling idly, thoughts stirring as he considers the words of these dragons he can 'hear'. A faint crackle of heat coats his words. <> Chanticoth senses that Trydanth wakes a little more, a tail-flick melding with his answer. << Bigger than me. >> Very helpful, of course. Chanticoth senses that he blinks his sleepy eyes, not moving from his couch, tail flicking a little, earning a gently swat from his lifemate. <> Little thought echoes back. Chanticoth senses that Trydanth gives his answer as a perfect image: a brown dragonet, next to a full-grown brown. << You will become that big. >> he states with perfect, bright blue clarity. Chanticoth senses that he is silent once more, a hint of brightness appearing in his thoughts, as though he had just discovered what was under the wrapping of a present. Shiny awed-ness fills his mind and reaches out to others. <> A dragon bebe of many words, neh? Chanticoth senses that Trydanth adds into the image, crowding it with a superimposed Trydanth, copper-tinges and all, and a leviathan Tiareth. Just for contrast. << You will see. Soon. >> he promises. Once a WLM's dragon, always a WLM's dragon.... Chanticoth senses that he burbles sleepily, amazement in his 'voice'. <> Chanticoth senses that Sardrinth snickers, his amusement a wind-chime in the morning's breeze <> Nylanth climbs down from Nylanth's couch. Nylanth carefully and as silently as possible tramps to the Bowl. Nylanth leads G'deon out. 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 an autumn before dawn. It is a cold dark morning, promising a chilly autumn day ahead. Soaring high overhead are Satyr, Shugogetten, and Harme. Green Zaqith, green Niamhyth, and bronze Nylanth are here. G'deon is here. Obvious exits: Weyrling Barracks Northern Bowl Corrals Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles in from the Weyrling Barracks. G'deon blinks somewhat. "It seems so big out here." Ilare blinks as well as she emerges from the barracks, pausing to adjust her eyes to the light. Chanticoth's eyes whirl, and he follows closely, nose against Ilare's thigh. Ooooo.. Nylanth looks around curiously, his eyes whirling quickly as he glances back at G'deon who simply laughs. "Yes, you have seen this before, Nylanth, just a couple sevendays ago." You notice G'deon looking at you. Ilare chuckles at G'deon's answer, even as she steps slowly out into the bowl, brown nose practically glued to her side as they meander away from the barracks. "Can you believe it? A month!" Shaking her head, she pulls her braid over one shoulder. G'deon G'deon appears at first glance to be quite calm and collected, though a mischievous gleam seems to tint his baby blue eyes from time to time. He shows signs of growing into what is now a somewhat lanky build, standing at 5' 11'', but many Turns of hard work have helped his shoulders to fill out considerably, along with his arms and hands. His legs however are still the wiry limbs of his youth, which he'll probably never lose. His sandy blond hair is kept quite clean but seems to have been forgotten lately, small tufts beginning to grow past his ears, managing to look a bit tousled at times. The calmness of his eyes makes up for that, however, clear and blue as the summer sky over High Reaches. Sturdy black boots, darker than deepest night, give way to rather thick, close-fitting black trousers which are dotted at various areas and heights with pockets. From there is found a thick, black, wherhide belt cinched tightly at the waist, holding a rather tight royal blue shirt in place. The shirt is a bit coarse but appears warm. The rather loose sleeves fall to the wrists in modest bellows, tied firmly at the cuffs, and the collar comes together in a V-shape below neck, tied firmly together with cords like those at his wrists. Unwavering shadows intertwine with the deep dark blue of glaciers, the two cords forming a single loop. Mingling with the cords is a fine ribbon of shimmering bronze, naming G'deon as a bronze junior weyrling of High Reaches. He is awake and looks alert. G'deon is 20 Turns, 1 month, and 23 days old. G'deon grins at Ilare. "Yes, I know. The time has absolutely flown by," he says, to which a bronzen head bumps rather hard against his thigh. "Oh alright," the weyrling replies to Nylanth then turns to the fellow weyrling and lifemate. "He wants to see what else is out there. Care to walk to the lake and back?" Ilare grins, while a faint croon escapes Chanticoth. Eyes gleaming gold a moment as they unfocus, the brownling blinks then grins. "Chanti says he'd like to see more, too. Sure, lets go." She gestures for the Bronze pair to lead the way, before resting the hand upon the head knobs of her bebe dragon. G'deon grins at Ilare and Chanticoth, then has a hard time keeping up with his dragon. Nylanth heads west towards the Northern curve of the bowl. Nylanth leads G'deon out. Heading west, you wander back across the bowl 'neath spires' spikes. Northern Bowl Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds. It is an autumn before dawn. It is a cold dark morning, promising a chilly autumn day ahead. Clinging wind-blasted to Council arch are Orphan and Nina. Gold Rhyath and bronze Nylanth are here. G'deon is here. Obvious exits: Training Grounds Council Rooms Sands Queens' Ledges Central Bowl Chanticoth survives the trek across the weyrling grounds. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Nylanth meanders south 'neath spires' watchful spikes. Nylanth leads G'deon out. Central Bowl Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area. To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold. It is an autumn before dawn. It is a cold dark morning, promising a chilly autumn day ahead. Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Zhaneel, Gavin, Wilt, Beats, Immie, Mosfet, Gyahaahaa, Vanitas, Sentanta, and Gunwalloe. Green Yshanth, brown Druseth, and bronze Nylanth are here. You see a wagonmaster, Cattysaur, Box, Gigi, Atticus, and Wagon Two here. G'deon is here. Obvious exits: Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ Heading south, you wander across the bowl beneath spires' watchful peaks. Chanticoth meanders in from the north. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Above, Ysbryth takes off from Ysbryth's Ledge. Above, Ysbryth drops down towards the Bowl. Ysbryth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*. Elehu steps out from the Weyr's living caverns. You notice Elehu looking at you. Chanticoth senses Elehu looking at him. Elehu Elehu is a wanderer, a traveler of the world. She is of slender build at 5'6'', and her skin has been tanned to a golden bronze. Her rich brown, shoulder-length hair contains streaks of gold, bleached by the sun, (and strangely enough, streaks of purple as well) that seem to make her hazel-brown eyes shine with an inner fire. Her ever-present smile will quickly show that there is little in this world that can overcome the spirit of this adventurer for long. Elehu wears a dark blue skirt that fits loosely, hardly making a sound as she walks. She wears an off-white blouse with wide, loose sleeves that have been rolled up and tied at her elbows. She wears light but sturdy-looking wherhide boots. A dark brown belt encircles her waist, and a slender dagger, about six inches in length, hangs at her right hip, with a small wherhide pouch at her left. Perched on Elehu's shoulder is Donner. Watching closely from Elehu's shoulder is Ref. Perched on Elehu's shoulder is Klee. She is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Elehu's rucksack Ref Donner Klee Elehu is 17 Turns, 4 months, and 12 days old. Ysbryth Buttermilk pours, pale gold, along the drawn-out length of her; runnels of clotted cream churn down her attenuated throat to broadened withers, where starlit motes -- paler still, though more intense -- freckle her hide. Their heat steams milky gold to white-hot froth, boiling over shoulders and spine, foaming along the base of 'spars and lathering haunches, before cooling again to softer, condensed shades that settle comfortably into the hollows of her flanks; stars crossed; stars lost in the mellowed warmth of profound tranquillity. A well-oiled pair of riding straps are fastened to Ysbryth's neck. Astride Ysbryth is Areiah. Ysbryth is 9 Turns, 11 months, and 14 days old. She is 80 feet (24m) long, with a wingspan of 133 feet (41m). Ysbryth seems to be listening. Hyzen meanders in from the north. Imbriath meanders in from the north. Elehu comes walking in slowly from the caverns when her eyes light up and she drops her light bundle. She takes off running for G'deon, full speed. "Gideon!" she calls out. G'deon laughs softly and takes his eyes away from Nylanth just long enough to see Elehu heading towards him, and to catch her before she falls, giving her a huge hug. "Ele! It's good to see you!" he cries out, finally setting her down. "Have you met Nylanth yet?" he asks, kneeling next to the young bronze. No thumping and thudding for Ysbryth; no, her landing is smooth and graceful, haunches first, then forepaws. Back she goes, stretching up, folding down broad buttermilked wings, revealing her beaming rider. "Now /that/ felt good!" Areiah whoops, patting her lifemate's neck before going to work on buckles and buttons and bows. The crowd is eyed with much interest, but no greeting, yet. She's busy scooting down. Lowering into a crouch, Ysbryth dutifully extends one narrow foreleg, assisting Areiah to the ground. Elehu laughs softly and kneels as well next to the little dragon. "So, you're Nylanth?" she says, peering into his eyes with curiousity. She smiles and looks over at G'deon. "May I touch him?" she asks, blushing slightly as she glances at the other weyrlings, then Ysbryth an Areiah. Ilare giggles, following behind G'deon. Chanticoth peeks out behind her legs, eyes whirling as he gazes at the girl who's just run towards Nylanth's lifemate... and Ysbryth is spotted. A happy croon to Momma-Dragon, and Ilare glances back and waves to Areiah. "Good... well, Morning." she calls, eyes glancing skywards and a faint shiver esacping her. Well, Reaches is colder than Ista in autumn.. G'deon looks to Nylanth for a moment, his eyes unfocusing, but not loosing the amused twinkling so often in place lately. "He says that's fine," he tells the young Healer as he stands, the looks at the other two weyrlings. "This is my sister, Elehu," he offers quietly, then waves as Areiah drops to the ground. "Aye, good morning to you, Areiah!" Elehu carefully extends one slender hand toward the little bronzen head, her fingers lightly caressing first his tiny headknob, then the area behind his eye ridges... she gives a quiet, but delighted laugh. "Oh Gid, he's amazing," she says in a hushed voice. Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth ebbs and rolls in gentle currents of sapphire, washing over darker hints of ameythyst, emerald, and a cloudy, dusky onyx. << You are new. >> Not a question, but a statement, put forth in a honey-soaked contralto. << It is nice to have new minds. >> Hyzen lags behind the other two weyrlings, head turning every so often to make sure that Imbriath was following closely. Young green, unused to such big, open places as the bowl, is creeping slowly along and examining things as she goes. Like that rock. Oh, and that sleeping firelizard! Pausing in her forward motion, greenlet chuckles softly before mentally urging her youngling on. Finally reaching where the others were, she smiles brightly towards Areiah, offering a sharp salute before beaming at Elehu. "'lo there, Elehu..." Yup, niiice person. She's the one that gave Hyz her physical. Ilare grins, and nods. "Hello, Elehu. I'm Ilare." She winks and strokes the head currently resting against her thigh. "This is my life mate, Chanticoth." The little brown croons happily, eyes whirling at the Elehu-person. G'deon grins at Ilare and nods as an involuntary shiver rushes through him. "And an early morning as well." He smiles down at his sister and nods. "Aye, he's perfect," he replies quietly. He turns to nod to Hyzen, his face brimming with cheerfulness. "Mornin' Hyzen." "Morning, folks!" Areiah calls brightly, returning Hyzen's snappy salute with one of her own, and a quick wink. "Good to see you've finally been set free of the barracks. How's weyrlinghood treating you? Enjoying mucking out couches and whatnot?" Yes, the little weyrwoman is wicked, but it's such fun to harass weyrlings. They're all just so darn cute! Errant twists of midnight are brushed from bright eyes before she leans back, against one large forepaw. Dragons make great leaning posts, yessir. Iriaguen steps out from the Weyr's living caverns. Iriaguen lopes easily (with only a hint of a swagger in his step) to the Lakeside. Kinecha silently walks in from the Guards Headquarters. Erzulie blinks in from ::between::! Elehu laughs softly as she stands, her eyes moving first to Chanticoth, then to Imbriath. She sighs softly, her head tilted somewhat. "They're just amazing," she comments quietly, leaning on her big brother for support. She smiles at Ilare and holds out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Weyrling Ilare," she says, eyes sparkling, "and it's good to see you again, Hyzen," she adds, then holds on to G'deon's arm tightly. Chanticoth senses that he glances around and looks up.. and up.. and up at the warm voice, spinning eyes a multitude of colour. A deeper voice than you might expect, flickering with vivacity and warmth, touches the minds of others. <> polite greeting, if a little awed at the size of the golden one. <> Awed. Yes, is Ysbryth not a big big dragon? Sasha meanders in from the north. Branwyth meanders in from the north. Sasha wanders slowly beside her dragon, with soft words of encouragement as they make their way towards their friends. "Hiya!" she grins as Branwyth's faultering steps lead to her nearly being knocked over. Ilare smiles and accepts the hand, shaking it. "Pleasure's mine," she replies, before chuckling. "Weyrlinghood's fine, Weyrwoman Areiah. It's a.. a great learning experience." Truth and irony? Maybe.. Little brown head butts her side, before those two little eyes gaze upwards at Ysbryth again. "Yes, she is big.. she's a queen dragon," is the soft reply, filled with good humour. "Morning, Sasha!" is called. Kinecha smiles as she sees weyrlings and their lifemates in the Bowl. "Hi all, how are you?" Chanticoth senses that Nylanth looks up as well at the golden queen beside them. Dark swirls of cloudy midnight walks blend with a mellow tenor << Greetings, are you new? >> comes the hesitant reply << I am Nylanth... you seem familiar to me >> G'deon just continues to generally beam from one new face to an old one as more people enter. He gently caresses the soft bronzen head, hie eyes unfocusing from time to time. Imbriath gently butts against her lifemate's hip, eyes whirling those fasinating colors of deep, dark emerald and a light azure. Laughing, Hyzen turns her eyes towards the golden one then back to her greenling. "Yes," is all that's offered to the silent question. "Morning G'deon! And you, Elehu." She's still deeply grateful that Elehu had been kind enough to spare Hyz the embarrassment of having Kariel do it. *shiver* "It is good, Weyrwoman Areiah... lots of work, but not really more than we had to do during candidacy. 'lo Sasha!" Chanticoth senses that Branwyth thinks << :sweeps her head around to view Nylanth and looks slightly quizzically at him. <> >> Chanticoth senses that Imbriath's bright face turns to Ysbryth, mind-tones dancing with the laughter and free joy of a young child with hints of wisedom within the depths. << Hello... Ysbryth. My name's Imbriath... >> There's deep respect in the young green's tone, taken from her lifemate. "The pleasure is mine," Elehu replies to Ilare, again holding on to G'deon's arm tightly as she glances around at all the new people. And new dragons, as green Branwyth enters beside her weyrling lifemate. She waves at Kinecha as she enters, but other than that seems content to stay beside her own bronzen weyrling, from time to time glancing to the other side to look at Nylanth. Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth is, in fact, large. But in a rush of well-chosen scent - calming lavender - she proves herself thoroughly unintimidating as that rich voice lilts to giggle. << Chanticoth. Nylath. Excellent names. I am sure they will suit you well. >> A curl of ameythyst, to match the lavender, and then; << I am not new. I watched you - all of you - arrive. >> Twice, in fact. << Imbriath! >> Delight colors, in shimmering silver bubbles. << Another beautiful name. >> Kinecha is given a warm smile, before a laugh escapes her as Chanticoth relays words to her mind-to-mind. Covering her mouth, she looks down, giggling. "No, darling, you're too young.." is the response to the unheard question, and the brown croons, clearly a little disappointed. Cuddling the head to her side, Ilare smiles again, before straightening. "How are we all today?" "Perhaps that's what Candidacy was really for," G'deon replies to Ilare, laughing softly. "Our constant chores may have been quite a shock if we'd been allowed to lounge about all the time." He glances again at the little bronze head at his side and laughs yet again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Sasha reaches up to gently caress the eyeridges that overshadow her lifemate's exquisitely whirling eyes. "Oh it is good to get out of the barracks finally!" she smiles at Branwyth, "not that I have been allowed to get bored!" Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << Ysbryth... /you're/ Ysbryth >> the silent question surrounded by moon lighted clouds, fluffy and soft << It is a pleasure >> Chanticoth senses that he is not large. Or big. Or anything. Yet. Flickering embers, warmth swirling and reaching out to the others. <> There is a pause, and eyes whirl softly, before he continues again. <> Ooo, nosy bebe. "An experience, aye - that's what we called it. The weyrlingmasters seem to take that as an appropriate explanation." Other explanations falling under the 'oh, ew!' category - but that's neither here nor there. The weyrling group is given a conspirational, if rather lopsided grin, and then, Areiah looks to Ilare, giggling outright. "That's the first thing they come up with, I think - what are these big wing things for, and how do I use them." G'deon is given a bit of a giggle, too, and the petite brunette shakes her head. "Candidacy was invented to help us 'riders catch up on our laundry. We're busy folk, you know." Heh. Hyzen smiles at the deep welling of amazement that Imbriath generates to her for Ysbryth. Compliments go far, it seems. "I'm good, Ilare. You?" Must always be polite. Always. Imbriath, still curious with this big outdoors world, wanders slowly towards Ysbryth, whuffling softly at the great golden one. Would Imbri be this big? Areiah is eyed thoughtfully before Hyz begins to sidle the way of her dragon. Elehu smiles at the Weyrwoman's reply, then glances up at G'deon and hugs him tight once more. "I'm so happy for you Gid... can I still call you that?" she asks, glancing down at Nylanth. Kinecha calls to Erzulie, who flies over and lands on her shoulder. Above, Leannan drops down towards the Bowl. Leannan drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*. Cayl meanders in from the north. Mzadith meanders in from the north. Ilare covers her mouth, echoing the giggles of the Gold Rider, before winking at Hyzen. "Good - although chilly. The warmth doesn't last long here, does it?" Ah, it's all that Istan blood again. Chanticoth rubs her leg, and croons a question, which is answered with another giggle. Her reply is unheard, even as she waves to the blueling pair. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth swirling dark navy begins to overtake the moonlit clouds as the light tenor invades in the light rumbling of distant thunder << Ysbryth, Chanticoth, Imbriath, Branwyth and Mzadith >> the little voice seems to chant << join us for a swim. G'deon promised a swim in the lake if it isn't too cold. Why is it cold? >> Chanticoth senses that Branwyth looks around at the gathered dragonets and at the much larger Ysbryth. <> Sasha staggers slightly at Branwyth's insistent headbutting, at her hip sighing affectionately and indulgently, "Oh not again Brannie!" seeing Cayl, she waves. G'deon glances down at his lifemate for a moment, mumbling distractedly to Elehu, "Yes, of course you can call me Gids," though quickly added, "Why, would you rather stay on the sands? There's no water there, and you'll have to get used to the cold here," he says, laughing softly as he again kneels next to the little bronze. Elehu smiles down at G'deon as his attention is called elsewhere. She looks around again and takes a couple steps backward, content to watch the little scene for now. Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth exudes a sense of gentle amusement - but interest, too - in hints of azure so faint, a mere breath could nearly dispell it. << I am Ysbryth, yes, and I was there. >> Heat rises, and an image coalesces, all foggy amber and slate grey stone; clearly, obviously, the sands. << I remember. >> The image drifts, fades, replaced by a richer version of the blue found previous. << A swim. >> That is all that is said, it's all that needs to be said. She's in. Brr...brrr...brrrr...and more brrrr...: She'd /always/ be Istan born, even if she /had/ to adapted to the cooler climate of Reaches. And, like the rest of her, this adaptation was more stubborn then not. "Is it my imagination, or is it colder then a few minutes ago?" Eyes unfocus, and a plaintive, "But yes it is..." Comes from ling. Glancing around at the gathering, Cayl blinks a few times, giving a cautious (cold) wave. "What's going on?" Again eyes unfocus, a rather unnerving tendency. "Oh no: The barracks are much warmer then the lake. I'm /not/ getting in there..." Her leer towards towards G'deon. "Why? Why did you have to promise them that?" Chanticoth senses that Branwyth answers slowly, not able to decide on whether her rumbling hunger is more of a priority than the incredible itching sensation all over her hide...<> Chanticoth senses that Nylanth quickening swirls of lightning hot flashes intrude as Nylanth looks to his lifemate. << Swim, G'deon >> Buttermilk tones subdue the heat and again the darkness of deep navy surrounds all << She said swim >> G'deon just grins, rather impishly in fact, as he shrugs at Cayl. "He said he wanted to see what else was out there other than the barracks. I mentioned a lake, told what it was, and he was hooked," he explains, loving fingers caressing the little bronze's headknobs. Chanticoth senses that he gives a bebe-sized whuffle, before butting his lifemate in the legs. <> Mental imagery, of lots of water - water, water everywhere! - echoes through the warmth of his mind voice, before he ponders Nylanth's question. <> Kinecha gives a slight wave to Cayl as she comes in with her lifemate. "Hi Cayl, you cold again," she says stating the obvious. "Congratulations, by the way, I'm so happy for you. For all of you," she continues to all the lings. Hyzen reaches Imbriath's side and slowly strokes the long head as she listens to the conversations... the ones that are aloud of course. Greenling transmits the rest for her and slowly a grimace spreads young, childish features. Like Ilare, she was used to Istan weather-- warm most of the time. Now, they wanted a swim? Oh dear. "Just as long as you keep your water to yourself, Imbri..." comes the soft mutter before bright optics focus upon Cayl. "'lo Cayl!" Swim... fine. She'll live. "Let's swim." Dazed slightly... is it the cold? Mzadith teetortotters quickly after Cayl, crooning in his ever so brassy, ever so sweet-autumn voice. But he wouldn't mind a swim, no he wouldn't. He'd already eaten and been oiled, but he wasn't /as/ tired now. Swimming sounded /good/. However, his whirling eyes are on all except his ling. This world is /big/! Look at all those /big/ creatures! (Ignore the fact that he's the large baby) Discussions of cold, from both his debating weyrling, and the other 'nets, are shrugged off. He knew he'd get his way, simple as that. Elehu's eyes sparkle somewhat as she leans against the wagon beside her, head propped on her arm as the silent exchanges seem to bounce from dragon to dragon, and between riders as well. Hiliza steps out from the Weyr's living caverns. Hiliza is in utter suprise. Not only is there a huge group of people, it's just barely sunrise. Short tiny Hiliza shivers in her coat, and the waves to everyone, "'Morning!" Drudge girl bites her lip but offers up one of her smiles anyhow. She's not moping any more, see? Cayl spots Hyzen between various wings and pinks of bodies and waves broadly, a large smile crossing her face. "Thanks! Even /if/ all he wants to do is eat and sleep. And swim. In the cold." Yes, obviously that was the answer to the other's question. Cayliscicle glances around towards the other weyrlings and then locks eyes on G'deon. Prey. GlareGlareGlare. "It's your fault, /you/ wash 'em. I'm sure Mza won't mind." Wings open, just a tiny bit, and Ysbryth cocks her huge wedged head to one side, whirling eyes settling on Imbriath. A light bit of a rumble, and long, long neck is stretched - well out of the way of the crowd, mind you. She's had Turns of practice. She hardly ever knocks people over these days. "You can go ahead and risk frostbite if you want, and I'll be more than happy to watch, but there's no way on Pern I'm going in," Areiah announces, giving her lifemate a sound bump with her hip. Cayl is given a halfway sympathetic grin; oh, the trials of weyrlinghood. "If you can convince Mzadith to stay close to shore, you might not have to take a dip?" Sky blue eyes scan the rest of the bowl as G'deon glances around. "Hiliza!" he calls out, seeing yet another familiar face. "How are you?" Chanticoth croons happily, and eyes whirl. Swim? Pwwweeeeease? How can anyone refuse such cute eyes? Well.. Ilare's going to try. "You've got a nice warm pool in the barracks, you don't want to swim.. but.. No you... Chaniiii..." *sigh* Eyes flick and glare at G'deon too. Darn darn darn you. Now he wants a swim as well!" Sasha has disconnected. Sasha falls asleep. Hiliza shrugs and moves closer to the group, "Gi.. G'deon.. Hi. I'm all right. How are you?" Besides for cold? She hugs the coat even closer to her body, and teeth chatter, "I always get used to the summer weather... and then autumn comes and it just seems so much colder.." Elehu quickly but quietly walks to the Caverns. Ilare blinks and looks around, and a bright smile touches her lips. "Hiliza? how are you?" A hand is extended towards fellow former candie, and the little brwown peers up at her. crooooon? "Chanticoth says it's a pleasure to meet you," she ads. G'deon smiles, then almost staggars as Nylanth decides he's tired of waiting. "Aye, the summers here don't last long," he replies to Hiliza, then glances down at Nylanth. "Alright already," he says, laughing softly. "We'll swim." He glances back at Hiliza and smiles again, waving, then heads in the general direction of the lake. Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth's laughter is much like fig pudding; thick and rich, yet light, sweet. << Cold is better experienced than explained. >> And that's all she wrote. Err - said. Err - mindvoiced. Whatever. Off to the lake! Nylanth carefully and as silently as possible tramps to the Lakeside. Nylanth leads G'deon out. Slowly, so slowly does Imbriath stretch her own slender and short neck out towards her mother, eyes whirling slowly and full of the content colors, almost reaching the deep hue of her hide. Whuffle. Oooh. Ysbryth smelled nice! Only Imbri... Hyzen rolls her eyes slightly, but laughter threatens to bubble up from her. "You'll get used to it Cayl!" Coming from one that is shivering in her boots and hunched in the collar of her shirt. Ilare follows G'deon, Chanticoth following close by. Beach Ancient dunes have been flattened by the endless parade of people and dragons that tramp northwest across the bowl, leaving a mere skiff of sand here along lake's beaten edge. Footprints litter the curve of beach, some left turns ago and caught frozen in the heavy clay earth near the water's edge. As the sun sets, shadows invade, creeping like fingers across the gently sloping ground and darkening the distant ledges on the far side of the lake. To the north, dust rises from the redolent pens while the flattened disc of the main bowl is just a step to the northwest. It is an autumn sunrise. The sun rises, clear light spreading from the east, clearing the shadows, and raising a thin mist in the cool morning air. To the north, you see Revnath and Alymath. Darting here and there are Aeneas, Flip, Kyutu, Irvine, Icculus, Kernow, Bow-Wow, Windu, Kazul, Slipper, and Talyn. Brown Zenzorath, blue Wiranth, brown Anwyllth, and bronze Nylanth are here. You see Ayashii, Hatchling Rules <-- read this!, Fingerroot plant, Redfruit tree, and Robin Goodfellow here. G'deon is here. Obvious exits: Stables Feeding Pens Central Bowl Lake Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles in from the Central Bowl. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Hiliza bounces with a smile in from the Central Bowl. [WeyrlingmonsterEdibles!] Ilare grins and likes her dragon's @motile messages :) Chanticoth senses Hiliza looking at him. Kinecha silently walks in from the Central Bowl. Imbriath shuffles with the awkward gait of a weyrling in from the Central Bowl. Hyzen is led in by Imbriath. Hiliza shivers even more, "Swim? In this weather?" Hiliza is incredulous, at best, but not rude. "I'm fine, Ilare... Chanticoth... it's nice to meet you too," And she addresses the dragon himself, and takes Ilare's hand, too. It was offered, you know. Areiah strides in from the Central Bowl. Ysbryth lopes in from the Central Bowl. Ilare beams as hand is accepted, and the brownling shakes it, clasp firm but warm. Unlike the waters of this lake, she fears... Chanticoth croons happily to see... Lots of wetness. Yes. he's a real bath-time dragon. Nylanth cranes his head over to Hiliza, his eyes whirling quickly in deep blue as he wuffles softly, his head bobbing ever so slightly. G'deon grins at the young woman. "He says it's a pleasure to meet you," he informs her, just before Nylanth goes crashing into the water. Mzadith trip, skip, lumbers ackwardly in from the Central Bowl. Cayl is led in by Mzadith. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << It /is/ cold G'deon... I love it! >> Cayl grumblebumbles, but obviously she's going to go along with this. And, aside from the cold-thought-processes, she's not upset. She'll just have Mza splash Gids a few times: Saying the 'wise' blue would do so. Watching the others head away, she glances back towards Kinecha. "Wanna come? M'sure Mzadith won't dunk you." But she's too late, as she sees the other already heading towards the lakeside. Oye: Always last. She, and Mzadith, jog (stumble in Mza's case) towards the lake. Cayl has disconnected. Cayl suddenly goes into a quiet daze... Standing off to the side, Kinecha watches the dragons and their weyrling with a smile on her lips. Grinning to Cayl, "in there," she asks nodding at the lake. "I don't think so." Not that it's too cold, no, just that there're too many dragons in there. Hiliza grins and lets her eyes sparkle for her friends, though taking a step back to keep from getting splashed, "And it's a pleasure to meet him too...." She finds a perch on a flat-ish rock and observes, mentally, that all the dragons seem awfully nice. And she smiles, "It's a pretty sunrise, this cold morning.." she muses, and then louder, "How have you all been? Busy, I'm assuming." G'deon begins laughing softly as Nylanth begins splashing around in the shallow part of the lake. "Try to stay close to shore, Nylanth," he calls out, arms crossing as a slight breeze blows off from the lake. He grins as Cayl and Mzadith come trundling over and carefully steps to the side. Nylanth bugles a welcome to the others just before dipping his own snout in the water and flicking the cold droplets toward his lifemate. Quickly and quietly, Areiah is mounting up again, balancing precariously atop her lifemate's neck. Fortunately, Ysbryth is good at sitting still. Buckles are unfastened, and midnight blue straps fall away as the large gold lowers herself as close to the bank as possible. Taking a leap of faith, her 'rider lands with a thud in the soft sand. Then, she straightens, pulling back the last of the well-oiled straps and giggling as the large dragon makes her way toward the water, minding the smallers. Ilare watches on, moving well away from the water as her brown dragonling near-bounces his way towards the wetness, and splashes about with his limps, tail and wings. Almost like a wherry taking a bath. Except without the whole fluffy feathers bit. Hyzen follows Imbriath as she waddles as fast as she can to the lake, crooning and chirping happily. Swim! The little pool in the barracks was nice, but this was even better! Lookit it! See how -big- is was? Just like Ysbryth! Enough room for them all and lots to spare! Flinging her wings away from her gleaming fey green body, youngling slowly steps into the coldness of the lake. Hyzen, the smart one, stays well back, knowing that once Imbri had tested the water that she'd go thundering in, sending sprays every which way. One... two... three, and in she goes! Wincing, Hyz watches as water goes showering up then down as Imbriath plows through the water. MmmM. Inching towards the shallows, weyrling doesn't step in, too cold. She just watches, careful of any 'stray' streams of water that may fly her way. The housekeeper arrives to cart Cayl off to bed. Hiliza's fair has been watching the dragons with intense interest and now all three launch themselves into the air to circle above and warble playfully. Green chirps and dives in, sending blues chasing after her, a play of later life occurances, perhaps. Hiliza herself simply watches with a grin, mentally etching this in her mind, perhaps for a picture later. And shivering. "I'm not leaving the Caverns during winter, I hope everyone understands this. I'm too little and it's too cold!" Nylanth begins venturing farther out into the lake, seemingly unaware of the depth as he continues to excercise his churning legs, his neck again and again splashing to the water playfully as his wings are spread out to either side. Suddenly gives a startled look at G'deon. Kinecha wanders over to sit next to Hiliza, "Morning," she says, "you cold too?" Smile spreads across her face. Lots of people seem to be cold already and it's not even winter yet. G'deon's head staps back to glance at Nylanth and in a flash his boots are off and he's running towards the chilled water. "I told you not to go so far, of /course/ there's no ground," he shouts out and splashes into the water, regarless of the temperature. He wades quickly over to the presumably floundering bronzeling when suddenly Nylanth cranes his neck to G'deon, a small forearm flashing to the man's shoulder. A moment later G'deon is under the water, then up again, spluttering next to the now serenly floating dragon, his eyes whirling quickly with amusement. Areiah finds herself a prime spot in the higher, drier sand. Shucking her jacket, brave soul that she is, she spreads the thing out and promptly settles down upon it - just in time to see G'deon get dunked. Helpless, hopeless giggles ensue. Chanticoth paddles like a canine, head high above the water, wings flapping, and occcasionally remaining still as he floats. OO, look, it's his swan impression again! "Don't go too deep, Chanticoth!" is callled as a warning, and the little brown turns about, tail aiding him as he heads back to sure, eyes whirling. It's big watery dragon playground! Hiliza chitters to Kinecha, "Good morning...and of course I'm cold. I may be from Crom and used to cold but.." she grins, "it's still cold, you know?" Eyes follow G'deon out and she giggles softly, "It's so fun to watch..." And remember. G'deon shivers slightly as he regains his footing, sparkling blue eyes darting to those of his lifemate. "What was that for?" he asks in a quivering laugh, splashing Nylanth lightly as he ducks farther under water again, the chilling water warmer than the breeze blowing across. Kinecha shrugs. She's not cold yet. However she nods in agreement with Hiliza, "yeah, they are fun to watch aren't they?" Kinecha releases Erzulie, who launches into the air. Imbriath makes her way away from the two male weyrlings, sputtering as water makes its way into her nose and over her head. Closing the first lid over her delicate optics, she forges through the cold liquid and towards the center of the lake. Mrowl. Nice. And she was nice and soaked now. Turning near the middle, she gazes towards the land and the dry people there. Hrm. Swimming as fast as she can, she skirts where her lifemate is standing and arrives out of the water to head in the direction of Kinecha and Hiliza. See her? She's curious as to why -they- don't have dragons. Doesn't everybody? Hrm. Moving as close to them as possible, she stretches her neck out as far as it will reach... and whuffles. Drip drip. Erzulie dives into the water churning with dragons. Coming out again she chitters with joy over the privilege of swimming with her (much) bigger cousins. Chanticoth senses that he croons, happily ducking he nose under the water and firing the droplets into the air. Warm swirls and flickering vivacity colour the deep 'tones' of his voice, as he looks over to Nylanth. <> Chanticoth senses that Nylanth splashes happily in the water, light drops of azure slowly swirling with the dark navy below as bluegreen eyes whirl in Chanticoth's direction. << Yes, he likes it... and he scratches in /just/ the right place >> Hiliza eyes the dragon whuffling at her, and then smiles, "Hello..." Two blues and one green come whistling out of the lake, green carrying a small fish. Seeing a dragon by their humanpet, they glide down to their various resting points and chitter nonesense about how they're all she'll ever need. Or maybe it's not nonsense. Strange, tho. Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily in from the Central Bowl. Sasha strides confidently in from the Central Bowl. Nylanth rolls slightly on his side as G'deon clings to his neck, the weyrling's hands gently splashing water over the bronzen hide and rubbing softly. "How does that feel?" he asks, laughing softly. "Aye, /that's/ why you really wanted me out here, isn't it?" Light blue eyes and whirling dark ones turn as one towards the dry strand dotted with people. "It /is/ cold you know, Nylanth," G'deon answers to some silent question, his hands rubbing now just below his wing. Ilare uh ohs, and starts to giggle, before cupping her hands and calling across the water and the noise of splashing dragons. "G'deon! Look out! You've a Chanti heading in your direction!" Amused beyond belief, she settles against one of the drier rocks, watching the havo---err, fun her dragon is having.. and causing. The brown dragonet bugles before dipping his nosse in the water again, flicking it at Nylanth and he paddles towards G'deon. Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth shimmers, shines, sparkles with amusement, in bright glitzes of silver and white-hot gold. No words, really, just a sense of jovial companionship, in hints of spicy sage and sharp ginger. A bit close this dragon isn't she, Kinecha thinks. Not moving an inch though, she just stares at her. "Errm, hello," she mumbles to the dragon. Sasha grins as she strolls slowly down to the beach, on hand resting nonchalantly on the neck of Branwyth, who although still unsteady, has a happy air about her...as if she has just eaten....As if answering a question put to her silently, Sasha giggles. "Oh look at them! You want to go in too, Bran?" Ysbryth seems to have paddled her way close to the middle of the lake, wings stretching as she drifts weightlessly along on her back. "We'll need blankets and cider for all by the time everyone's through, no doubt," Areiah lilts, laughter at last having settled to the occasional titter. Swimming in the fall is a spectator sport. G'deon back paddles quickly, splashing at the quickly charging brown dragon in self defense. Just in time, he ducks under the water, immerging on the other side of the bronze as he laughs softly. "You want to play too, do ye," the young man calls out, splashing at Chanticoth over the back of Nylanth who is not helping the weyrling's cause, and instead splashes his lifemate with a big woosh from his slender head. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth allows a soft amusement, like a gently mossy mist to envelope her, and she looks uncertainly at the spectacle before her. <> Streeeeetch. Imbriath is full of curiosity for these two females. Sniffle. Hrm... strange smelling-- nothing like her own Hyzen. Surprise litters the young one's face and expressive eyes when firelizards appear from behind. All she'll ever need? Huff. Dragons're the best! Moving closer, she crouches slightly before sending a glance towards Ysbryth. Hyzen was busy with something else. Question is asked of the golden one. She'd know, yes? Even though she was swimming? Wings ruffle, dislodging some of the water that clings. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << We're playing! Join us! >> Chanticoth senses that Imbriath's mind-tone swells with a question, dark colors and light, mingling and dancing together. The giddy laughter is still there... seems it always is. << Ysbryth, why don't these two-legged ones have dragons too? >> Chanticoth senses that he bugles, flapping his wings and sending waves at G'deon, eyes whirlling. <> Nah, they're not REALLY picking on G'deon.. Honest. Water drips slowly from the rather rakish hair hanging from G'deon's head, which he quickly shakes, sending droplets flying. An amused grin creases his face as he ducks to the side in front of Chanticoth, barely escaped another loving splash from his lifemate. Despite the coolness of the air, Sasha is already shedding her new blue shirt and black weyrhide trousers in favour of the shorts and vest beneath. She splashes into the shallows turning around and enticing her lifemate to follow her, knowing she will not allow them to be separated for long. and she is right...nervous though the little green dragonet is, she begins to wade into the water, finding that its increasing bouyancy allows her far more grace than she has so far managed to achieve on land. "We're coming!" calls Sasha to the others who alredy seem in full water fight mode! Sasha strides confidently to the Lake. Ilare giggles, shaking her head, although her eyes glow as they unfocus and she communicates with her lifemate. A grin crosses her face as she watches, and nod occurs. In the waters, a happy burbling splash is sent back at Nylanth, before he ducks his head again and takes water in his mouth, swimming about, he throws it at the rider - lookit! Perns first water-breathing dragon! Sasha scrambles out of the lake, slipping slightly on the bank's slick clay. Hiliza strokes the eyeridges of her first little blue, and tilts her head to the side, studying Imbriath slowly. "She's awfully curious, isn't she?" Hiliza speaks as much to her fair as to Kinecha, and perhaps even the little dragon. Why doesn't everybody have a dragon? Because then how special would they be? Chanticoth senses that Ysbryth edges closest to Imbriath in softening shades of smoke and baby yellow, wrapping 'round in something of an arm around the shoulders type gesture. << Not all are paired, >> she begins slowly, sagely, as if carefully considering each word. << You are perfect for yours. I am perfect for mine. They are perfect for theirs. Those who are not paired are either not meant to be paired, or have not found their match yet. >> There. That fits. Grinning at the little dragon, seemingly so interested in her and Hiliza, Kinecha nods at the other womans comment, "yeah, she is." Wanting to reach out and touch the dragon she catches herself before doing so, she contends herself to just looking at her. Which is quite fascinating in it self. Nylanth bugles his amusement to the Weyr... well, the beach anyway, as he joins in on this watering of his beloved. Water splashes from bronzen head and neck, skirting away from gently flapping wings, though the little one is carefull not to fold them. G'deon quickly forgoes trying to keep his head above water and begins splashing back at the pair of opposing dragons with as much amusement as they seem to be having. Erzulie dives once more, coming up with a silvery fish. Fluttering to a rock, she starts munching on her snack. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth watches Ysbryth closely, admiring her size and colouring, and experiences a hanging pale mist in a valley, kind of sense of wonder, as the water around her lifts her, and she begins to swim towards Sasha, glowing with emeraldine pride to be at her side. Chanticoth bugles also, eyes whirling as he rears upwards, turns, and flops belly up, wings folded and back to the water in the lake, sending wavees and water _everywhere_ and upon everyone. Laughter echoes from his lifemate, shaking her head while she watches. "Careful, Chanti!" Hiliza goes home. Sasha swims strongly to where the others are and giggles as she realises the joy that the dragons are experiencing for the first time...so easy to take for granted. With a reasuring wink at Branwyth she takes a deep breath and dives deeply, enjoying the cold sting of the water as her face is submerged. Chanticoth senses that he bubbles as he flips over in the water, eyes whirling. <> Yup, much fun indeed. But there is a hint of tiredness to his voice, and he looks towards the rocks and the beach bit of the lake. <> he informs all, flicking his tail at Nylanth and G'deon. <> Imbriath moves her gaze away from Ysbryth, but doesn't return it to the two sitting people. She stares off into the distance is if thinking deeply, offers a thoughtful thank you to Ysbryth and finally returns her gaze to-- wait a moment! Wasn't there two at one time? (o..O) Shaking her wedged head, the young green crouches even lower when Kinecha reaches towards her. But... hey! Why'd ya stop?! A strong few words go flying towards her 'mate and Hyzen turns, studying the two and grins. "You can, Kinecha! Imbri won't mind." Branwyth looks alarmed...her life mate has disappeared...whipping her head around frantically she searches for Sasha, not understanding why there is no sense of Sasha feeling fear...As her lifemate resurfaces, the dragon bugles with relief. Kinecha smiles as she once again reaches out to scrath Imbriath on one eyeridge, knowing that her lizard likes it, she hopes that dragons do too. Being somewhat bigger than a lizard, Necha uses four fingers to scrath instead of just one. "Does she like this, Hy?" Nylanth and G'deon both watch Chanticoth head back to shore, and a glance between rider and dragon passes. "No, you can stay, Nylanth, but I should really dry off," G'deon tells his lifemate with chatter teeth behind purple lips. A large tanned hand rises from the water to caress the bronzen head as G'deon leans forward and kisses the little one's nose. Carefully wading back towards shore, Nylanth still manages to give his lifemate one last splash before paddling over to Sasha and Branwyth. Sasha gasps as the cold air hits her face and seeing Bran's concerned muzzle, she approaches her and her hand immediately goes out to her head, to stroke and reassure. Then with a wicked but loving laugh, she flicks a handful of water at Branwyth's suprised head, which darts backwards , almost colliding with the approaching Nylanth. "Oooops!!" Sasha bursts out laughing. "Sorry Nylanth!" Chanticoth senses that Branwyth apologises to Nylanth with a hint of dark mossy velvet, <> Chanticoth senses that Nylanth whuffles softly as blue-white icicles dot a flowing picture of navy swirls and cloudy puffs. << The water is too cold for G'deon now, but I'm not done playing yet >> Soft twirling spirals of green meander through throughout as Nylanth's eyes whirl with amusement. << I like the water. I like the splashing. >> Ilare welcomes her paddling dragon back to shore with a rub of his eyeridges affectionately, before leading him over towards the dryer rocks, away from where he might get splashed once more. He butts her with his damp head, almost knocking her over mid-step, earning a surprised giggle. "Oh, Chanti, it's okay. Mind yourself on those rocks.." "She'll let you know if she does or doesn't like it!" comes the replying call of Hyzen as she squats down in the sand and begins making something. Surely enough, Imbriath begins to croon lowly, bright eyes whirling with the deep contentment of blue/green. Ooh yes, she likes this! Of course, no one but Hyzen gives the best scritches, but this was close! Curling her tail slowly around her little bulk, the green butts her head against Kinecha's hand. Just right... no, move-- right there! Somedragon's in bliss... G'deon smiles a bit unsteadily as he climbs out of the water, water soaked arms wrapped around himself as he glances around for the towel... ah, there they are. A large purple towel is plucked from the sand and quickly brushed over weyrling's head then left to drape as yet another towel is taken. G'deon continues to try drying his water soaked clothes, eyes watching his lifemate acutely. Kinecha is grinning. She likes this too, and luckily her own little green lizard is busy stuffing herself or she might get jealous. Nodding she comments, "I think she likes it..." Suddenly seems that way doen't it? Branwyth gazes as if hurt by Sasha's splashing, but then, turning as if to swim further away to avoid it, she flicks her tail and an arc of water drenches both Nylanth and Sasha. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth sparkles like sun glinting off emeralds..<> Areiah goes home. Ysbryth goes home. Nylanth quickly flicks his own tail back at Branwyth, sending water flying everywhere. Suddenly however his gaze is diverted to the shiver man left standing on the beach. The whirling eyes slow down for a moment before resuming their hectic course. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << G'deon is cold... we must go warm him up. >> Startling images of licking flames edge the calmness of blue that again surrounds the picture image as an amused tenore speaks up again. << The water was fun. Thank you! >> Sasha splutters, caught utterly by surprise, and attempts to swim to shallower water, where she will have more control. "Wow! You two can sh-sh-ift some gallons when you want to!" she remarks her teeth beginning to chatter. Chanticoth senses that he giggle-croons, the bubbling flames tilting sideways and whirling as his thoughts brush those of others. <> The tired note wobbles in his mind-voice. G'deon stands shivering in his towels as Nylanth lumbers out of the water, dripping everywhere. "Don't you dare," he cries out, just before Nylanth begins shaking his head... then shoulders, then tail and each of his back legs, again drenching his lifemate in the chilling water. "Okay, /now/ you're done," G'deon says, eyes sparkling as he waves to the others and begins leading his bronze charge towards hopefully warmer parts of the Weyr. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth begins to follow Sasha, concern creeping into her mind like bluey green icicles. <> Chanticoth senses that Nylanth gives a sleepy gaze to those around him. << Perhaps a nap is a good idea, and the couch is so warm... >> Nylanth carefully and as silently as possible tramps to the Central Bowl. Nylanth leads G'deon out. Ilare nods at her dragon, arm moving across to stroke his neck. "Yes, back to the barracks. You can relax while I oil you..." She tilts her head at the others. "Anyone else need to go back to the barracks?" a wave is thrown after G'deon. Sasha staggers out too, grabbing a dark red towel that she brought from the barracks. Wrapping it around herself she nods in answer to Ilare "We are coming!" Imbriath mutters softly, still crooning as she inches up on the sands and offers a slight nuzzle to Kinecha. Hyzen, finished with whatever she'd been doing, stands and dusts her hands off before moving towards Imbri and Kinecha. "We've got to go back to the barracks..." trailing off, she offers an apologetic smile to the one caressing her green. "Maybe we'll see you later?" Imbri, watching her clutch-sibs start to leave, turns from Kinecha and nuzzles her lifemate's back. Yes. This person was good with scritches. Nodding, Kinecha says "I'm sure you will." A smile is given to Hy and her lifemate, "Thanks for letting me scrath her, she wonderful:" Imbriath shuffles with the awkward gait of a weyrling to the Central Bowl. Imbriath leads Hyzen out. Branwyth shakes herself all over finishing with the tip of her tail and water is scattered in all directions. A wuffling head is put over Sasha's shoulder and they begin to make their way back to the barracks. Central Bowl Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area. To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold. It is an autumn midmorning. The mist clears as the sun rises higher in the sky. The air remains crisp and cool, and a few fluffy clouds float lazily across the sky. A breeze blows down from the mountains, stirring dust and leaves. Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Zhaneel, Gavin, Wilt, Beats, Immie, Mosfet, Gyahaahaa, Vanitas, Sentanta, Gunwalloe, and Leannan. Green Yshanth, brown Druseth, and green Imbriath are here. You see a wagonmaster, Cattysaur, Box, Gigi, Atticus, and Wagon Two here. Hyzen is here. Obvious exits: Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles in from the Beach. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Meandering further 'neath spires' watchful spikes, you head north. Northern Bowl Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds. It is an autumn midmorning. The mist clears as the sun rises higher in the sky. The air remains crisp and cool, and a few fluffy clouds float lazily across the sky. A breeze blows down from the mountains, stirring dust and leaves. Clinging wind-blasted to Council arch are Orphan and Nina. Gold Rhyath is here. Obvious exits: Training Grounds Council Rooms Sands Queens' Ledges Central Bowl Chanticoth wanders in from across the bowl. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Watch your head! Weyrlings are not known for their flight skills. 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 an autumn midmorning. The mist clears as the sun rises higher in the sky. The air remains crisp and cool, and a few fluffy clouds float lazily across the sky. A breeze blows down from the mountains, stirring dust and leaves. Soaring high overhead are Satyr, Shugogetten, and Harme. Green Zaqith and green Niamhyth are here. Obvious exits: Weyrling Barracks Northern Bowl Corrals Chanticoth wanders in from the Northern Bowl, keeping an eye out for Weyrlings on Patrol. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. 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. To the southwest, you see Zaqith, Niamhyth, and Chanticoth. Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are nine firelizards. Brown Backstreeth, blue Recounth, and blue Catiminith are here. You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here. Obvious exits: Staff Office Bowl Couches Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles in from the Training Grounds. Ilare is led in by Chanticoth. Imbriath shuffles with the awkward gait of a weyrling in from the Training Grounds. Hyzen is led in by Imbriath. Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily in from the Training Grounds. Sasha is led in by Branwyth. Branwyth goes into Branwyth's couch. Hyzen has disconnected. Hyzen slowly slumps over, her knowing gaze being shut off... ZzZzZz... Hyzen has connected. Hyzen slowly wakes up and looks about, brilliant optics full of love and life. Chanticoth wanders across the barracks and vanishes into Chanticoth's couch. Seth> Chanticoth moves out of the barracks and up onto the couch. Imbriath pokes their head into Imbriath's couch before mounting the step and entering. Sasha has connected. Sasha wakes up. Imbriath hops out of Imbriath's Couch, careful of the small step there. Hyzen hops out of Imbriath's Couch, careful of the small step there. Hyzen pokes their head into Imbriath's couch before mounting the step and entering. Imbriath pokes their head into Imbriath's couch before mounting the step and entering. You move out of the barracks and climb up into the blue-black couch, home to Chanticoth. 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 is Seth. Brown Chanticoth is here. Obvious exits: Barracks **Later** Chanticoth> Ilare arises from the couch and vanishes out into the barracks. Sasha comes out of Branwyth's couch. 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 an autumn midmorning. The mist clears as the sun rises higher in the sky. The air remains crisp and cool, and a few fluffy clouds float lazily across the sky. A breeze blows down from the mountains, stirring dust and leaves. Soaring high overhead are Satyr, Shugogetten, and Harme. Green Zaqith, green Niamhyth, and green Myrineth are here. Catia is here. Obvious exits: Weyrling Barracks Northern Bowl Corrals Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles in from the Weyrling Barracks. Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily in from the Weyrling Barracks. Sasha strides confidently in from the Weyrling Barracks. Sasha wanders out of the barracks, and grins at Catia. "Hello! did you meet Branwyth yet?" Myrineth looms - comparatively speaking - in the training grounds, giving little encouraging warbles to the weyrling dragons spilling out of the barracks. "Not yet, Sasha," Catia replies to her ex-apprentice, strolling over to eye the young green approvingly. Ilare blinks, then waves to Catia as Chanticoth wanders after her. "Chanticoth wanted to meet your dragon," she explains, winking at both green dragon and rider. Chanticoth senses that Myrineth looks down at the weyrling dragons, letting her pine-scented thoughts waft gently across the training grounds and in through the doors of the barracks. << Greetings, little ones. >> Chanticoth senses that he croons, mindvoice whirling and rich, warm yet flickering with hints of tiredness. <> is a polite response. If a bit sleepy. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth glitters dark forest green shyness, as the older, and considerably larger dragon than her takes an interest.<> Proof blinks in from ::between::! Proof * will NPC her NPC. ^_^ "Anyone still need the dragon care class?" Catia asks, perching herself on Myrineth's forearm as the green stretches out in the cool sunshine. Dragons make useful podia. "Sasha, I haven't seen you yet...." Catia * will @emit her dragon pros for Hyzen's benefit. :> "Come on Sheepith..." comes the voice of R'am as he emerges from the Barracks, leading his little blue. The dragon bleats softly, nudging his lifemate in the leg before gazing around shyly towards the others. Male 'rider frowns slightly when he hears Catia's call, sighs, and goes to join the group. He really dislikes female teachers... 'riders... anything! Hrmph. Proof *thankies. ^_^ Sasha nods, approaching Catia. "Oh yes please! I need all the help I can get!!" "Gather round then, kiddies...." Catia calls, though she seems to be using the term fondly rather than patronisingly. Myrineth echoes her lifemate's summons: << Listen well to my rider. She will say important things that yours must learn. >> With an affectionate slap for her green, she looks over the massing weyrlings. "I want to talk to you about how your dragons are growing, and how you should care for them." Sasha runs an absently caressing hand over her lifemate's neck...enjoying the feeling while Bran is short enough for her to reach.....and the way she is growing it won't be too long. She nods to Catia waiting patiently to hear what she has to say, as Bran whuffles quietly. Sheepith warbles softly as he gazes at the big, big green, shyly offering her a greeting with his fickle, deep mind-voice. R'am shakes his head slowly before squating down and drawing the blue head towards him. He waits now. No questions yet... "Your dragons are growing fast..." Catia begins, as usual. "Literally growing out of their skins, which is why they have to be bathed and oiled so much. Anyone know why oiling's so important for a young dragon?" Myrineth harrumphs, indicating /her/ opinion that it's important for older dragons too. K'sair has been here a while, you know. As has Raveth. We're here. Yup. Since the start. Mainly because Raveth was nosy. Silly brown bebe. A nod is given Catia as he takes a seat on the ground by his dragon, and he watches all. He hmms at the question, and raises a hand. "It helps prevent itchy, flaky hide?" Catia waves a hand vaguely in the air. "Well.... yes. Of course. And why do we want to prevent itchy, flaky hide?" << Because it itches. >> Myrineth inserts a comment that causes Catia to frown a little. R'am looks towards the small blue head that was gazing intently at the teacher and dragon. That was the truth. Growing overnight and complaining about itches in the morning-- not that R'am didn't mind Sheepith's. It was the other dragons that were so vocal. "It'd leave them with large sores." He doesn't frame it as a question, but as a direct answer. "Sores, yes, and weak, brittle skin which might crack and be a danger between. Dragonhide is designed to protect against between's cold, you know.... and once they're older, it's important that you still bathe and oil them regularly." Catia replies to R'am, nodding to the young bluerider. "Bathing and oiling is the best time for you to check their hide, too.... tell a Weyrlingmaster if you find something that isn't right." Sasha nods slowly, glancing down at hands supple from long applications of scented oil already. One hand scratches her lifemate's green hide, knowing the effect it invariably has on her. "Branwyth generally itches more after a meal....I've been slathering oil on all week....is it just me or does everybody feel itchy too...I mean as well as their dragon? Because it's driving me crazy at night!" G'deon quietly strides in from the Weyrling Barracks. Catia laughs at Sasha. "You should've seen G'deon in the class the other day, trying not to scratch when I was talking about dragon itches.... We all went through it, Sasha. It stops though, believe me, it does." Believe her. And ignore the way one hand's dropped to rub her hip. Not missing a beat as G'deon himself appears, she continues the lesson. "Alright, so your dragons are growing out of their skins.... To do this they're eating a lot." Nylanth carefully and as silently as possible tramps in from the Weyrling Barracks. G'deon blushes softly as he hears Catia mention his name, but he grins and waves to her, taking a seat behind the other weyrlings as Nylanth settles beside him. Sasha snorts! "No kidding!" she grins As G'd and Nylanth make their way onto the training grounds. "Hiya!" she whispers. "They eat... and eat... and you have to chop the meat into pieces," Catia states the obvious. "As they get older they'll need less meals though, as their rate of growth slows down - dragons do most of their growing in the first four months of their life," she informs the class. "Which is good news for you.... as they get bigger, they need to be oiled less often, but it seems to work out about the same amount on average," she adds with a grin. G'deon grins at Sasha as he takes a small bottle from his /dry/ pair of trousers. Nylanth rumbles quietly, but not loud enough to intrude on the others. He sets his head on G'deon's lap, his eyes lidded by all but the outermost set of lids. "There's a dragon growth chart in the barracks somewhere," Catia rattles on, "but by the time this one" - she points to Branwyth - "is 18 months old, she'll be Myrineth's size." Compare and contrast time. "Nylanth over there will be as big as Myrineth by the time he's about 12 to 14 months old." Ilare giggles, Chanticoth's head resting on her lap. Yup, G'deon did itch. K'sair chuckles, but pays strictest attention, Raveth butting his arm once with his head, before eyes whirl at the healer-lady. "How often will they need feeding when they're full grown?" Sasha leans back and smirks at G'd..."You have soooo much more oiling to do than me then!" she whispers playfully! "They'll eat every sevenday or so, depending on how busy they are, eating anywhere between two and four whole beasts." Catia answers K'sair. "But once they learn to fly, they'll go with an older dragon and learn to hunt, first in the pens, and then elsewhere." G'deon smirks right back at the lot o' them, content for now to oil the "tiny" head in his lab and the quickly growning neck beyond that. Branwyth restlessly shuffles beside Sasha and plants her head on her shoulder...before it too slides down into her lap, to be caressed by loving hands. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth yawns slowly as he shifts his head a bit. << Yes, right there G'deon >> Lazy swirls of gold and silver mesh with dark navy hues. << The oil feels better each day >> Catia hops down off Myrineth's leg, walking down to the dragon's tail and giving it a poke. Myri obediently curls it round, fork pointing towards the weyrlings. "All this eating has an unpleasant by-product... and until your lifemate's old enough to go between, at about a Turn, you're going to have to keep clearing it out," Catia states, waving a hand towards the manure heap over at the side of the grounds. "As you probably notice, dragons excrete from the fork of the tail," - pointing to that area of Myrineth's - "and you should watch the tail for signs of thickening, since that means constipation." Sasha sighs contentedly....hacking up meat....oiling.....she'll do it gladly for the one creature she has ever been able to make any kind of loving bond with....still not able to believe her luck she nods, listening carefully to Catia's words."Whoa!" she jokes goodnaturedly, "don't point that thing in this direction...i know what one of those can do!!" Raveth whuffles his hair, earning a skritch of the eyeridge, all the while K'sair listens intently to the lesson. Wincing at the word, 'constipation', he urfs. "How do you treat a dragon with constipation?" Ilare grins at that. She asked the same question yesterday.. "With some very nasty green stuff, that gets poured into a funnel and down your dragon's throat, shortly producing an end product, at, well, the other end," Catia replies pleasantly. "Your dragon gets purged, and you get to clean up." G'deon wrinkles his nose up at this point, then glances down at Nylanth. "No, I hope that never happens either, Ny." His fingers deftly continue massaging globs of oil into the bronzen hide. Sasha shudders slightly but knows it comes with the territory. "I saw some of that go on after the last hatching here...I had a chance to help out one day....Not pleasant!" "Lyri says a couple of you lot have had the pleasure already," Catia says with a wry grin. "Don't worry, it's not /too/ bad... just not pleasant. Your dragon can get sick if it overeats too, so mind out how much you're letting them wolf down." Ilare nods, giggling at Chanticoth who burbles something in bebe dragon-tongue. Well, it makes Ilare giggle at least. K'sair runs a hand through his hair, nodding at the weyrhealer and chuckling at his dragon. "Told yer, mate. No wolfin' down those slices of meat or you'll get sick." << Do not eat too fast and get sick. My rider does not like it. >> Myrineth tells the young dragons solemnly. And that of course is that best reason not to get sick. Cayl silently, suavely, glides in from the Weyrling Barracks. "Let me see.... ah yes. You have to keep reminding your dragon of things like this, due to their short memories," Catia tells the weyrlings, grinning wryly. "I bet those of you who've heard this chat before have already forgotten it, no?" She seems to be addressing the dragonets. Mzadith wanders in from the Northern Bowl, keeping an eye out for Weyrlings on Patrol. Chanticoth senses that Branwyth sends out flashes of scarlet and yellow as she broadcasts to no one in particular <>> Ilare shakes her head instantly. "I've not." she instantly replies, and a sigh echoes from the little brown dragons lips. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << I haven't seen it happen... but it /smells/ bad! >> Chanticoth senses that Branwyth doesn't remember so listens hard just in case she does remember something..... Chanticoth senses that he warbles softly, flickering flames of warmth spilling forth with his mind-voice. <> This earns him a playful bap from Ilare, and he turns to gaze with rapidly whirling eyes. <> is the sheepish bebe voice. Catia chuckles, rather. "I meant Chanticoth," she tells Ilare patiently. "But in any case - you're the one who'll get punished, not your dragon. Remember that." Returning to lean against Myrineth's leg, she concludes, "We'll talk more about dragon anatomy before your lifemates learn to fly - in a few months. But for now, any questions?" Proof suddenly poofs into ::between::! Chanticoth senses that Myrineth soothes with waves of gentle green. << Remember to chew. When you eat whole herdbeasts, you will like to chew the bones. >> Someday.... Chanticoth senses that Branwyth glistens deep burgundy red with hungry excitement....<> Chanticoth senses that Nylanth peers at the larger dragon with curiously whirling eyes. << What's a herdbeast? >> Chanticoth senses that Myrineth is patience personified. << A herdbeast is what you eat, Nylanth. >> And into the conversation comes the image of a herdbeast.... one that's swiftly dismembered. Blood, guts and gore. Chanticoth senses that Nylanth thinks << Tasty >> "Myrineth...." Catia groans, as she shares in the bloody image. "Don't. Please." Thumping the dragon's arm lightly, she asks again, "Any questions?" Chanticoth senses that Branwyth bristles with excitement and her stomach rumbles audibly. "Nothing? Nothing? Nothing." Catia doesn't sounds totally worried at the lack of questions. "Well, if you need anything... ask a weyrlingmaster." And scrambling up Myrineth's side, the green shuffles into takeoff position. G'deon waves to Catia as he shields his face from dust with the other. Myrineth extends a foreleg, enabling Catia to mount easily and settle herself between two neckridges. 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. Sasha waves and calls "bye..and thanks!" to Catia. Cue Cayl's arrival! Perfect timing doth she have! She watches as the green springs into the air and glances around, sour-faced. /Obviously/ Mzadith didn't take no for an answer and now she was -completely- drenched in freezing cold lake water. Whimper. Poor ling. "Lo guys: What's up?" Besides the dragons. And skies. And everything else. Sasha grins at Cayl..."Myrineth by the look of it! you missed a lesson..." G'deon glances over at Cayl from his position on the ground. "You'd better change clothes soon, Cayl," he says with a knowing grin. "That wind is viscious." Chanticoth holds his wings and tail high, careful not to trip as he shuffles to the Weyrling Barracks. Chanticoth> You move out of the barracks and climb up into the blue-black couch, home to Chanticoth. 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. To the southwest, you see Zaqith, Niamhyth, Branwyth, Nylanth, Mzadith, and two people. Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are nine firelizards. Brown Backstreeth, blue Recounth, blue Catiminith, and bronze Soquilith are here. You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here. R'ave is here. Obvious exits: Staff Office Bowl Couches You move out of the barracks and climb up into the blue-black couch, home to Chanticoth. 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 is Seth. Brown Chanticoth is here. Obvious exits: Barracks *** Disconnected ***