Ilare - Thursday, December 14, 2000, 10:01 AM
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<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he burbles, rising heat
 flickering through the sleepy, awakening mind. Warmth, rich in its
 colours, stretches sleepy-hazed tendrils outwards, Weyrwards. <<......>>
 One second, he'll think of something. <<......?>> No, really, he will.
 <<'Morning....?>> Well, I never said it'd be original...

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's voice simply
 /melts/ into ebon, liquid azure fire dripping into a pool of pure void. 
 <<Morning!>>  Sparks ignite the liquid and it rushes onward, full
 unstoppable force.  Can't you just /hear/ him crooning?  <<Very very good
 morning.  Cayl's awake and mucking my bunk!  Then I'll be fed.  And
 washed.  And oiled.  And taken outside.  And get to sleep.  And she'll
 do it all again!>>  Purrrrrr

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he absorbs the words
 flickered towards him, the heat coating them and flickering like embers
 being stirred. Deep voice, rich as fresh klah, bubbles with amusement,
 still sleepy. <<I have eaten, and slept. While I bathed, my bed was
 cleaned. My lifemate now sleeps, while I wait for her to awaken so I
 may be bathed again and oiled. Life is good.>> A smug warmth, and adoring
 emotions are sent tenfold to his slumbering lifemate, before he rests his
 head atop his folded front limbs.

<High Reaches Weyr> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith runs to steal back his
 warmth, a viper in the ebon-lit sky.  His liquid fire, his.  No klah. 
 Whine.  <<Cayl wants /me/ to muck at the couch?  How?>>  Suuuuure, he only
 created the mess, he wasn't up to cleaning it out.  Visions of a /huge/
 pool of oil melt through the link at his 'ling's next outrageous
 suggestion.  <<Ooo, that's no bad idea!>>  Bubbles of indigo abate as he
 poings off again, a hyper child of the frost.

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he blinks, head rising,
 whirling fire of mind cooling and spinning as he contemplates the images
 sent him. oooo... <<An oil bath... such an invention would be a wonder..>>
 Approval is spilt forth in rich scarlet. Then.. <<My lifemate says that a
 pool is not wise... why would it not be?>> 

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith  Confusion, but great
 anticipation lits the dragonet's mindvoice and images of the world filter
 through.  They're on the move, faint outlines of the barracks is seen. 
 Through this jumbled together mosaic, cool blue fire filters.  <<It is a
 wise idea.  My weyrling is very wise.  She says she will attempt this
 marvel.  I do not know why your's disapproves.  Mayhaps she can help? 
 Cayl becons me ask.>>  Like ancient, wisened wood, his voice 'poings'
 off again, enveloped by that mosaic.

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he blinks again, then
 amusement echoes across time, space and the inside of the weurling
 barracks. <<She says that Catia would not approve..>> An image of the
 Weyrhealer and her green dragon comes to the forefront of his mind, and he
 tilts his head, nudging the body beside him, still feigning sleep. <<She
 says she wants a longer nap. I am not hungry, or itchy. I will wait till
 she is ready before I make her make me an oil bath with your Cayl.>> 

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's amusement filters
 through as he watches his Cayl watching the dragonet's bathing pool, evil
 flickering through her eyes.  <<Aaaah, you're  Ilare needs no sleep!>> 
 Sure, they're invincible!  <<Just think how much sleep would be gained if
 us dragonets could simply jump into an oil-pool and come out oiled?  They
 would only need to muck and feed, and Cayl assures me she'll teach me how
 to muck.>>  Facefault.

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he doesn't like the sound of
 that. <<But I do not wish to muck.. or wake my lifemate..>> Not sleepy he,
 but his Ilare is. Bubbles on amusement echo and dance across the barracks,
 mind to mind. <<It is but an idea. And I do not wish to fill our bathing
 pool with oil just now.>> After all, it's a heated water source, no?
 <<When it is.. winter?>> an image of the Weyr covered in white.. stuff..
 is projected, <<We will want our inner bath. And I like my lifemate to oil
 me.>> 

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that Mzadith's voice melts into
 hues of utter amusement and childish laughter.  <<But the pool water
 drains away!  Oil would not stay.  We have bigger plans, me and my Cayl.
 And I won't muck, she will, but don't tell her that.>>  Eeeee

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that he just bubbles in amusement.
 His clutchmates and their Chosen are so strange.... :)

<Junior Weyrling Wing> Chanticoth senses that Soquilith finally spins an
 silently audible rejoinder toward the minds of his clutchsibs, bemusement
 slurred in hues of sea foam and tangerine. <<You are /odd/.>>