Ilare is being followed out onto the snow, by not just her dragon, but
three of her four fire lizards. Each of whom keep scolding her when she
won't let them perch. Breath crystalising into clouds about her, she
turns back to her brown lifemate, not noticing P'rru. "You.. *yawn*
seriously want to practice at this hour?" Gold eyes blink several times -
she's just a lil' bit tired.
"I don't do before dawn, Soq. It's just.. not right." The bronze doesn't notice, nor pay much attention to his weenie-- er, lifemate's complaints, instead stretching the formidable breadth of his wings with a lazy sort of grace. "You give me five minutes of sleep a month, I tell you." At this lament, R'ave recieves a mouthful of tail-slapped snow. Ungh.
Dsalth watches with interest as P'rru descends carefully
Chanticoth half dances along just behind Ilare. Tired? At this hour? What about this hour? It's a good a time as any... Granted it's somewhat /cold/ but no one's about. Of course he wants to practice. Flying is fuuun....
P'rru drops to the ground with a slush. "Ilare? Oh and that you too R'ave?" broken straps in hand, the brownrider turns about, his head shrouded in a disgustingly /bright orange/ beenie. Just don't ask. Dsalth rumbles a quick greeting to the draconic halves of the pairs and goes back to snorting at P'rru. He didn't break them, honest.
Ilare rolls her eyes at her dragon's early morning chirpiness, amused inspite of herself. "Yes, I know, I know. Go do your laps and wing and leg stretches then while I talk to.. Hey P'rru!" Bronzling pair is waved to as she starts across the snow towards the other brown rider, peering briefly at the.. thing.. on Dsalth's rider's head. Huh.
Soquilith raises his head toward the elder brown, lowering his tail 'round staunch haunches. Heh. R'ave is gagging on snow, at the moment, but will greet P'rru. Really. Sputter. Choke. "Mmf.. good morning.. night.. morning," the bronzeling answers, trailing after Ilare. People. Peeeeeeeeople. R'ave's a zombie. ((O.o))
Chanticoth eyes R'ave as if wondering if the zombie will come after him. Ah well. Off he goes on his little laps around the training ground. Oh what a beautiful morning...
P'rru simply clucks his tongue at his great lughead lifemate and tucks those straps into a bottomless pit of a coat pocket. "Guess now they can fly, you won't be getting much sleep.." he notes wryly, faint amusement ticking at the corner's of his lips. And since P'rru is also awake, it's a testament that sleeping-in isn't a trend among many wingriders either. "Hope your both faring well?"
Ilare is trying, really she /is/ trying, to ignore the orange.. thing.. on P'rru's head, which explains why she's staring at his dragon, not him. "Something like that, yeah. Gotta make him do his warmups first though - don't want those muscles cramping because I didn't make him stretch enough." Owie. Shifting in the snow, she chuckles. "D'argo and Luxonth have offered to give us another longer flight class this afternoon if Lyri can't manage it, which will make things... interesting." To put it mildly.
R'ave looks up sleepily at P'rru. "I'm tired." You see, he's always been a sort of a ... afternoon sleeper. Soquilith snorts, situated and across the bowl, where's he's rolling in snowbanks, dark wings extending to make.. snow-dragons? Hrm.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth snorts and rustles his wingtips against sorrel hide. << It would be more constructive to /fly/, Soquilith >> he suggests drolly.
Chanticoth seems to have picked up a dusting of snow from his movements, so his top half seems to be covered in white, while his tail swishes back and forth, creating zig-zags in the snows as he finishes his lap. Done!
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Soquilith's mindslur is swamped with musky smoke, perhaps more of an herbal scent and thickness than anythign rendered by tobacco. << Says /you/... the snow feels /good/. >> And that's what it's all about.
Ilare chuckles at the 'Done!' that resonates so clearly in her mind. "Uh huh," she smiles in her dragon's direction. Well, he remembers what comes next, right? Stretch those wings! Looking back to P'rru, she eyes the beenie thingy, before listening to the elder brown rider. And giggling at Soquilith's snow-dragons. "He looks like he's having fun, R'ave."
P'rru nods, glancing over his shoulder at the half-lidded eyes of his lifemate. "He's certainly energetic" he notes, master of the obvious, of Chanticoth. "Just wait until you can both go between...they'll rarely have you home at the weyr at all.." speaking once again from experience. But maybe it's just his bag of bones lifemate who can't stand the snow. Even now, the older brown is lifting his feet continually out of the slushy ground. Eww.
R'ave grins absently, those dark circles that've become a sort of hallmark fading abruptly. "He is. Don't let him know you're watching, though." Tough guys don't play in the snow, right? Soquilith rolls, grunting loudly as he lumbers to his feet, completely covered in a dusting of snow. Beam.
Yes, Chanti knows. Stretch those wings, work those muscles. Wave them about in the air, try to avoid hitting people...
Ilare gives a cheerful nod to P'rru, tiredness drifting into non-existnace as her dragon's energetic-ness spills over to her a little. Just a little, mind. "Aye. To fly with him, anywhere! That'll be a real pleasure!" Beam. The both of them are looking forward to flying. Eyes look now away from Soquilith and towards Chanticoth, a grin pasted on her mug as the wing stretches begin. "His wings are huge now - much bigger than Akilth's." But then, her brown is much bigger than Akilth, so that's not really saying much.
Dsalth stretches open his own wings as if to say. Um, excuse me, I'm bigger. P'rru just chuckles and taps gloved fingers on the tip of his lifemate's muzzle. "Yes we know your larger, but then again your about 22 turns older 'salth" Broken straps and the frigid cold are almost forgotten, however, when there are weyrlings to provide plenty of entertainment. "And I'd bet R'ave's boy has bigger wings still.." than Chanticoth he's talking about.
Soquilith looks tacit, for a moment, eyes flickering from his lifemate toward the sky. "Sure." And then the bronze quietly rustles his wings, dark surfaces glinting dully as he removes himself from the ground with a few hitches of gut and 'sail. You see, he was stretching when he was rolling around down there. And getting frozen. But he's not frozen any longer. "You can't fly all morning. You have to eat!" Little R'ave looks indignant. "Oh. Er.. yeah. He's big. And... wide." R'ave has his very own post-earth army tank. Hoorah.
Chanticoth spreads his wings wide and peers at the transparent membranes with whirling eyes. They're big enough. For now. But they'll get bigger. Or so he's told.
Ilare makes a noise. Well, of course Soquilith's bigger - he's bronze, isn't he? And of course they'll get bigger! He (Chanticoth, that is) still has a lot of growing to do, after all. "When you're ready Chan.." Don't collide with Soquilith now.. not that he would - he's a very graceful dragon. "Not too long up there now, or Catia will have my hide!"
P'rru raises his eyebrows, which basically traps them under his ridiculous beenie thing. Which actually has a pom pom on top. (It just got so much worse didn't it). "He takes to the air well, R'ave, you should be immensely pleased!" again with the obvious statements from the ex-igener corner. Dsalth whuffles a question, neckridges bristling and the brownrider deftly answers it with a shake of his head "You'll make them nervous Dsalth..."
R'ave eyes Chanticoth's wings thoughtfully, gaze shifting upward toward his indolently circling lifemate. "Thanks, P'rru," bronzeling manages, modestly offering the brownrider a winning smile. "It's good he worked so much on building up his wing muscle, or he'd never get off the ground... His wings seem so different from Chaticoth's. They're not transparent at all. They're like.. I dunno. They're really thick, for wings." Blink. "I guess they have to be."
Chanticoth snuffles a little. They're not entirely see through... just translucent, alright? Alright, he's here for flying isn't he? Up, up and away...
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth huffs, a musty cloud lilting over a voice that /could/ be sulking << But I could show them how it is done properly, Purr... >> words fade and drift before a final breathy comment swills through << It's too cold just to sit and /talk/, we never have fun anymore... >> Guilt trip?
Ilare makes a noise. "Not transparent." Protective, much? Hmm.. Just a little. Up he goes, and Ilare watches quietly, smile on her lips as she speaks mind-to-mind, encouraging Chanti do do his best. And she really isn't looking at that... bobbly.. thing.. on P'rru's head. Although there must be some reason - not necessarily sane, but a reason at least - as to why he's wearing.. It. Not IT, but It.
P'rru folds his arms across his chest, leathery sounds muffled by his thick coat. "Soqilith is a much heavier dragon afterall" he reason, inclining his head (and in the process making that bobbly pom pom bobble?)"So tell me how the new weyrlings are going? I've not had a chance to get to meet many of them..." Cadgwith spawn apparently makes Dsalth nervous.
"It's not a bad thing, I think that's how they were meant to be," R'ave clarifies, wincing as Soquilith hooks a wing left, swinging his mass in that direction a bit too swiftly. "He's going to give me an annuerysm, I swear by his shell.. yeah. If he ever ate, I would be terribly afraid of how much more weight he'd hold." Shudder. "The new weyrlings.. are interesting?" Via is interesting. A-heh.
Cadgwith spawn makes /anyone/ nervous as far as Ilare's concerned. "Most of them seem.." well, she can't say that! "They're settling a little more - not waking the rest of us up as much. Usually." Via makes her skin crawl. Yuck! Nasty green rider girl! But since Ilare has a strange fondness for the dragon that spawned them, she says naught about the gold.
P'rru has had enough of the sulking and haranguing that he turns around and grips either side of Dsalth's snout with his hands, tugging that great lughead down to look at him. "You're not serious, so stop it, your giving me a headache" he says quietly while Dsalth's tail flickers and smooshes in the snow. "He wants to fly with them..." brownrider notes over his shoulder to the weyrlings. "I'm not positive it'd be a good idea..." ahem. But resigned to the fact that /he/ always wins, Dsalth will probably continue pestering the beenied rider.
The desert-red dune of Soquilith's shoulder inclines, a foreleg providing R'ave secure support.
Soquilith goes home.
Ilare looks sympathetic, before looking towards her dragon above them. Does he mind if Dsalth shows him some tips in the air? Or at least lets him see how established flyers do it? "Well, I don't object.." She waves as Soquilith lands (finally), and R'ave follows his dragon back into the barracks, before taking a breath.. "And what IS that on your head?".
Chanticoth blinks down at Ilare... the little speck on the ground she is... as he beats his wings again. Of course he doesn't mind.
P'rru chuckles and before he can really give his consent, Dsalth takes a few steps backwards and launches into the air with nary an effort. "Well..he'd better take it easy on your boy" P'rru notes, hazel eyes following his lifemate. And as for the beenie, the brownrider lifts up fingers to tug at the pom pom "Ahem...well my daughter gave it to me..she'd made it herself...and it is so chilly at night..and I couldn't well refuse" he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth glides easily towards high airspace, giving Chanticoth a wide berth. << Listen to the wind, it will help you >> he advises, wingtips canting slightly to bring him in an arc in front of the weyrling << Listen and feel, don't look >>
Ilare ahhhs, a daughter-father gift. How many things of hers did her dad wear back at Ista? Well.. not a lot. And speck she may be, but she's an important speck, no? "I'm sure he will. Bessides, Chanti's getting good in the air." Preen. She's so proud of him.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that he sounds definitely curious. << The wind speaks? >> If it does it's very quiet... But listen and feel are easy, even if the don't look part is fairly... scary? After all. There are nice big rock faces around here.
P'rru pinkens slightly at his beenie and the attention and odd looks is conjured. Ahem. "As long as Chanticoth follows his instructions, Dsalth won't push him far" was that the rider admitting his lifemate was a know-it-all. Well..er..yes. Dsalth levels out, tossing a glance back towards Chanticoth every now and then.
Ilare just nods, watching the dragons, trying not to give her fellow brown rider strange.. looks. "I'm sure. Although he'd better be clear with the explaination - I don't want Chanti to end up like a dragon pancake." *shiver* Unpleasant thought indeed!
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth sends out amber melts, confident and assuring << Level out...feel the air under your wings...and see with your senses not just your eyes...you can not see in between afterall >> and slowly he veers to the side << You will not hit a rockface for you are a brown >> and he says that as if colour lends them some sort of magical powers.
P'rru shrugs and chaffs his hands up and down his arms. "Well, I have no idea how to explain flying...they are born to do it, and it's mostly instinctual afterall...you'll have to trust him in flight anyway.." he notes, eyes all the while ahead on his lifemate. "Be careful" he mouths, eyes shifting.
Chanticoth knows Browns are da best. Is he not brown? Is Dsalth not brown? See. Case in point. With smooth movements, Chanti slowly levels out.
P'rru steps away for a moment to scrawl out a message to someone.
P'rru returns, sending a firelizard off to deliver the message.
Ilare trusts her brown completely. How can she not? Besides, he's practically perfect in every way! "True, but I'm not worried. He's very good at it!" Just look? What amazing wings! Seeseesee? Just aa little proud of her brown - but can you blame her?
Dsalth downbeats slightly and with the rudder of his tail he's propelled to a slightly higher level, above Chanticoth and yet still ahead. P'rru mumbles something and nods "Oh of course he is..." he replies.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth regards Chanticoth with a muted umber << Precision is the key...with a tiny movement you will be able to go higher and level out in one stroke >> words blurr slightly as a more private conversation shifts to his little lifemate but then, << Show me >>
Ilare raises an eyebrow slightly, before nodding. Uhhh huh. She may or may not have been paying much attention to P'rru's reply, but regardless, she watches her brown glide along the air currents.
(Chanticoth) Ilare thinks to you, << take care, love. Let me know when your muscles start to hurt - I won't have you injure yourself in the weather! >>
Chanticoth rumbles quietly to himself as if considering, then pushes downward with his wings gently, but firmly, moving him to a higher level. Ooh... did Ilare see that?
(Chanticoth) You think to Ilare, >> They're not hurting. I like flying. <<
P'rru washes his hands together, eyes lighting. He saw it. Of course he's getting a running commentry on the weyrling's progress. "Oh that was well done, indeed" he says, a smile on his face. "I'd always admired the more precise dragons...speed and agility is one thing, but well controlled precision is quite another" his version of glowing praise. Apparently.
(Chanticoth) You sense that Ilare saw that! << Oh, well done! Very nice! >> And she's glad their not hurting. << Still when you tire, tell me. We might get to fly together today! And you don't want to be too tired to do that, do you? >> and they don't want to get grounded for overflying, right?
Ilare beams slightly, delighted in her dragon's precision. And elegent use of wings. He's getting so good at this! "The more precise they are, the better able to avoid getting seared and threaded during a fall they are." she murmurs absently, father's 'brain-washing' from an early age as well as part of the lesson information she's learned replaying in her head.
Dsalth cants off to the left in one stroke, then the right in the other. Swerving it seems. P'rru raises a finger, pointing up there. "Your very right..he's a natural...just have to train yourself to move with him during these motions" and that brings an amused tic to the corner of his lips. Somehow something is funny.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth regimental flow of instructions follow each other in warm, glazed ripples << now try that, side to side..it will get easier when you are fully grown of course >> ugh, knot-it-all.
Something P'rru finds amusing? Ilare raises a single eyebrow at that, chuckling faintly. "Well, I'll have the straps to aid me until I'm used to his rhythmn." she shrugs, smiling her pride at the compliment paid her lifemate. She watches Dsalth moving from side to side. "Perhaps next clutch you should see about an assistant weyrlingmaster job? Dsalth is very good at explaining these things."
P'rru shakes his head "No, no...I haven't the...patience really to train unruly weyrlings...a few of you at a time is entirely different" that little glib jest is finished with a smile. "Dsalth would relish the extra duties however I am sure..but no, we've enough here as it is" and with that, rider pulls the hem of his beenie down further on his forehead. "Is he getting tired? that bag of bones of mine probably won't take his stamina into consideration.." he says, glancing at the fellow brownrider with a cocked eyebrow.
Ilare's lips twitch in amusement, and amber orbs burn golden as she consults with Chanticoth. "Not yet, he says," although her tone is slightly doubting. "He will be soon, though. You can tell when he's tired - his wing beats get slightly uneven or he gets lower in height." she knows these little bebe quirks about her lifemate. She giggles at the response to /that/ from her lifemate, before crossing her arms. "A few more minutes! Then get back down here! We don't want to make D'argo mad at us! You know how Luxonth gets.." Eeep. That bronze pair are very moody, you know..
Chanticoth follows Dsalth's side to side motions carefully. You know, an inexperienced dragon could get dizzy like this... He peers down at Ilare-speck on the ground. Aww...
(Chanticoth) You think to Ilare, >> I can't stay up longer? <<
(Chanticoth) Ilare thinks to you, << We'll be flying lots, today. You
don't want to be too tired, do you? >>
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth snorts, fusty scents of old libraries and books dusting over his voice << Well done...and we should land now...descend with the wind, not against it >>
(Chanticoth) You think to Ilare, >> Oh alright... <<
Chanticoth really isn't going to argue with /both/ Dsalth and Ilare. Maybe separately, but not both. Picking out a suitable place to set down, he starts descending.
Dsalth begins a long open spiral as he descends over the training grounds, wingspan slightly clipped to allow Chanticoth more room. "Dsalth says that he's had enough of teaching your boy.." he says, chest puffing slightly. See what /his/ dragon can do? Now that is a proper dragon. Marching steps garner the brownrider closer to the place earmarked for his 'salth's landing.
Ilare chuckles at the resigned not in her dragon's voice, and sends mental promises of lots of flying after they've rested to him. "Indeed," she replies to P'rru, amused at the tone of her fellow browner. And he's been a proper dragon 22 turns. Chanti's only 8 or so months old. He's still got some ways to go..
(Chanticoth) You sense that Ilare smiles upwards at you, tilting her head as she admires your landing approach. << We will fly so well together. You don't want to be too tired to do that, do you? >>
Chanticoth backwings a little in order to set down roughly where he intended to. See, he's getting better at those landings.
(Chanticoth) You think to Ilare, >> Of course not! I do wish to fly with you! <<
Dsalth lands aways from Chanticoth and P'rru is there, rubbing his muzzle in congratulations. Fustily rumbling, the dragon passes the same sentiments onto the weyrling pair. "Well he's hungry now...I might let him have a wherry or two.." P'rru tosses over his shoulder probably puffing with as much pride as Ilare will be.
(Chanticoth) You sense that Ilare beams happily, and sends lots and lots and lots (etc etc) praise towards you! << What a lovely landing! Well done! >>
Ilare is definately proud - see at that grin? "Oh, well done, love! That was a very good landing!" No nose-in-snow this time, or any more times! "Looking about towards P'rru, she smiles. "Please tell him thank you for me, and Chanti." She still thinks he'd make a good teacher..
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth rushes the senses with images of warm desert air columns, his voice rustling << You will be a marvelous flier, Chanticoth, and your rider will be splendid >> glowing praise again.
P'rru chuckles and whumps that sorrel'n'khaki shoulder affectionately "Aye, he knows, Ilare and I think he enjoyed it as much as anyone could" brownrider's eyes shift, unheard exchanges obvious between the older pair.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that he happily twines his words with yellow. << Thank you, Dsalth. >>
Well, if that doesn't make her morning.. Ilare rests one hand on her brown's muzzle, a faint giggle escaping her as she mindspeaks her partner. The imge of a surprised D'argo and Luxonth at their improvement is shared happily, before a nod. "Chanticoth also had fun." Is her brown hungry too?
Chanticoth's eyes whirl. Foood.... Food good.
< Local > Chanticoth senses that Dsalth sends out the unmistakeable scent of warm freshly killed wherry. << Hunting... >>
(Chanticoth) You sense that Ilare thought so. << Shall we go in and
eat? I'd take you hunting, but.. >> She hmms. Don't they need weyrling
staff for that?
(Chanticoth) You think to Ilare, >> I don't know, dear. Why don't you
ask? <<
P'rru nods "Alright, old man, let's head to the pens" and brown Dsalth almost charges towards the corrals...
Ilare nods at Chanticoth, "Okay, just a moment.." Looking to P'rru, she giggles as the older brown tears off. "Can we come watch? I don't know if Chanticoth is allowed to hunt without supervision.. Well, I know he's not, but I don't know who is supposed to supervise.." Eeek. Please don't say D'argo and Luxonth!
P'rru inclines his head, following after his all too eager lifemate. "Your welcome to join us...although has he hunted by himself yet?" he checks.
Ilare shakes her head. "Not yet. That's why I'm asking." She pauses then, and looks back to her dragon. "Never mind - we'll eat indoors. He's a little tired." And being fed in the warm is better than trying hunting when you're cold and tired.
P'rru washes his hands together trying to steer warmth back into them. "Yes, that's an idea...of course as soon as he /can/ hunt Dsalth will surely offer to show him the correct way to do it..." which basically means the opposite to all the miraviths and druseth's out there. :) Brownrider bobs his head "I best catch up with him..have a wonderful day both of you..." and with that he clips out of the grounds.
Ilare giggles, and nods. "Thanks again!" she calls, before ushering her dragon indoors. Time to rest. And eat!
P'rru swings up to ease himself between defined neckridges
Dsalth goes home.
Chanticoth scarpers in the direction of the barracks. I'm going, I'm going...
You go to the Weyrling Barracks.