Ilare - Thursday, January 04, 2001, 4:31 PM
-------------------------------------------

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. 
Deep royal blue, crisp and bright, colours the silken fabric of Ilare's
 shirt. Darkest midnight buttons hold the practical fabric in place at the
 neckline, with long sleeves tapering to small wrists, ending in a cuff
 that keeps them safely out of the way when working with her life mate or
 allows them to be shoved up to her elbows when the work becomes messy.
 The hemline is tucked neatly into trousers made of sturdy strong
 wher-hide, hued to darkest black of a midnight starless sky. A belt of
 matching black is fastened 'round her waist, while knee high black boots,
 lined with soft down, fit her feet comfortably, barely noticeable as
 their black fades into the rest of the ensemble.  Nestled in Ilare's hair
 like a crown is Kairo.  Perched on Ilare's shoulder is Sethe.  Watching
 alertly from Ilare's shoulder is Bay, eyes whirling in fun friendly 
 colours.
A double twisted cord, one strand the shade of royalty's blue and the other
 blackest midnight, have been braided as one and coiled into a single loop.
 A ribbon the color of butter brandy, chestnuts roasting on a fire and
 deepest, richest brown, is bright in contrast - the colour of her
 lifemate, Chanticoth.
She is awake and looks alert.
You notice Ilare looking at you.
Ilare is 18 Turns, 8 months, and 12 days old.

Chanticoth
Oh what sweet, sweet treacle flavours his slimly elongated curves,
 lightening the glimmering patina of burnt pinewood; oh what bright, bright
 ridges carol along his snow and mistletoe back, kissing the gingerbread
 surface below. But it is the patterned decadence of brandy-butter that
 defines this rogue: toasted to perfection from the ruddy nubs that cap his
 head to the festive curve of that spoon-shaped tail candycane-striped with
 russet, his sweetly blunted snout is fairy-dusted with holly-crimson,
 which also reddens freckled cheeks. His chestnut hide roasts in the open
 air of winter's breath wings, along which a darker brown tracery gaily
 hunts for perfection. Smouldering embers of evening's end warm his
 underbelly, stretching dusky shadows except where disturbed by the rare
 sunburst of flames, breathing life into the whole of his enchanting body.
Richest green, the shade of deepest summer foliage and wintertime evergreen
 trees has been dyed carefully into the leather, giving the impression of
 mottled shadows and multiple overlapping leaves. The straps of leather -
 well oiled and made to fit this dragon alone - have been lined with suede
 and wollybeast skin to prevent chaffing, and are doubled over to allow for
 growth. Positioned between the forth and fifth of Chanticoth's lustrous
 brown ridges, the leather straps have been sewn with dedicated care, made
 to last and not fall prey to wear and tear. Polished shiny buckles glint,
 kept bright with care. 
Chanticoth is 7 months and 16 days old.
He is 39 feet (12m) long, with a wingspan of 65 feet (20m).
Chanticoth senses Ilare looking at him.
Chanticoth seems to be listening.


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 Jolinar.
Brown Chanticoth is here.
Obvious exits:
Barracks

Ilare has given up tiptoeing. There are enough of the latest batch of bebes
 to last at least a month's worth of sleeplessness here. Sitting on the
 edge of her couch, she gives a sigh. "You were never that much trouble to
 me," she smiles at her lifemate, reaching over to scritch an eyeridge.

Chanticoth blinks up innocently. Of course he wasn't. Chanti was always a
 nice little... well, not so little now, dragon. Practically perfect in
 every way. Honest.

But of course! Besides, he's so much more.. clean. And big. And how big!
 "You itchy, hun? Or hungry? If not, want to go and practice some
 stretching outside?" Ilare fiddles with her hair a long moment, pondering
 in silence as several of newer lifemated weyrlings peer at her. 

Chanticoth flips his wings slightly, as if thinking about stretching them.
 Yes... stretching might be a good idea. But not with all these little
 weyrlings peering. Grr. They make too much noise.

Yes they do... But aren't they kinda cute too? Well, Ilare remembers how
 small and adorable Chanti was once upon a month. "Good, lets go. More room
 outside.. even if there's snow. So take care - no slipping because you
 decided to rush.." A hint of a tease, and a wink. Reaching for her jacket,
 she pulls it on, mane removed from the collar. "Let's go."

Slip? Chanti? But he's so graceful. See how carefully he clambers off his
 couch? First one leg, then the next, until all four are on the floor.
 After you...

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 Kelitath, Vespurath, and Niamhyth.
Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are nine firelizards.
Brown Chanticoth is here.
You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here.
Obvious exits:
Staff Office     Bowl     Couches

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

Chanticoth pads with enviable grace in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Ilare crunches across the ground carefully, buttoning up her jacket as she
 looks about her, hmming. "Why don't you stretch out your legs first and
 then stroll a few laps about the bowl?" She suggests, turning to her brown
 with a thoughtful expression. "That way, you'll warm up nicely."

[Elementalings] Ilare: hmm? no? funny? :)
[Elementalings] Chanticoth snerks. A little.
[Elementalings] Ilare: oo! new Buffy and Angel on Sky tomorrow! Finally! I'm
 so happy! ;^^;

Chanticoth looks at his forelegs and stretches them out as far as they'll
 go. Ooh, don't they go far. Ok. Laps. Promise, no dancing this time. Let's
 see if Ilare notices he skipped the backlegs. But he's moving, so that's
 stretching, right?

Lyri wanders in from the Northern Bowl, keeping an eye out for Weyrlings on
 Patrol.

Ilare noticed, but she's not going to spoil his good mood. And that was a
 good stretch. Tilting her head as he paces the bowl, she blows a wisp of
 fringe from her eyes and waves to Lyri absently. "That's it Chanti! Really
 stretch your legs. When you're done, come back and lets stretch your
 wings!"

Chanticoth pads right round the training grounds at a reasonably quick trot
 and comes to a halt near Ilare. But beind careful to angle himself so that
 he's not going to hit her when he opens his wings. That would be a bad
 thing.

Lyri makes her way back onto the training grounds, shaking her head at
 Niamhyth's greeting rumble, obviously dissagreeing with the unspoken, and
 gives a nod at the actions of Ilare and her practicing lifemate.  "Nice to
 see someone applying themselves."  Ooh, bad day? Maybe. Run.  

Bad thing indeed. But at least her landing would be soft, neh? "Well, it's
 a bit loud in the barracks, with all the new weyrlings," Ilare shrugs
 slightly, taking a step back to get a good look at her brown - he's so
 BIG! -  "And Catia said we needed to practice the stretches to keep
 their wings strong.." Oblivious to other peoples bad days today, it seems. 

Lyri nods approvingly.  "Well, at least this lot seems to have their heads
 on right."  Of course, this is slightly muttered.  "So, you've been
 practicing, eh? Care to put that practice into purpous?"  A grin spreads
 over her mouth as Niamhyth perks and makes her way to the small gathering.  

Chanticoth slowly unfolds his wings, stretching them out. Cooo... big,
 ain't they. Well, so Ilare's says. A slight air disturbance is created
 as he rapidly draws his wings back in.

Sasha strides confidently in from the Weyrling Barracks.

Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily in from the Weyrling Barracks.

<Local> Chanticoth senses that Niamhyth wafts an amused shower of rainbow
 sparkles carried on a breeze of freshly cut grass.  <<You will do.>> This
 is to whom?  Well, she's not saying.  <<Just make sure to follow the
 instructions precisely, no deviating.>> 

Sasha sees Lyri, Ilare and thier lifemates and wanders over , a happy grin
 on her face. "hiya!"

Ilare blinks, then looks to Chanticoth, a bright smile lighting her
 features. "Really? Can we? Chanticoth says he's more than willing to try!"
 Sasha is waved to, and motioned over. A flying lesson? Wooohah!  

Lyri motions Sasha over as well, giving her a slight wave.  "Flights." 
 Well, now /that's/ helpfull instruction, isn't it.  A shake of her head is
 given Ilare.  "No trying. Doing. He will fly, how well is up to your
 practicing and his instinct."  Apparently she's also quite encouraging. 
 "Now, it's a running start, jump into the air, three wing beats, and a
 glide. Got it? Nothing fancy, the only thing you'll get by 'proving
 yourselves' is extra chores and as much mucking as I can give you."
  
<Local> Chanticoth senses that rich vines, dripping with the
 juiciest of grapes entwine Branwyth's thoughts. <<Flying? Today?>>

<Local> Chanticoth senses that Niamhyth stifles her amusement, showering
 the two with a sunrise tinted burst of encouragement.  <<You will fly, and
 well. But no over doing it.>> Images of certain weyrlings elbow and knee
 deep in mucking and various other unplesant things are shared.  <<Follow
 the instructions.>> 

<Local> Chanticoth senses that his words are tangled up in happy yellow.
 << I will. >> Of course, he /does/ want to fly, after all.

Ilare winces. More chores? Butbutbut.. "Here that, Chanti?" She directs her
 voice softly at her brown, both verbally and mentally.  "You get to fly
 today. So, no over doing it!" Running start, big jump, three wing beats, a
 glide.. hmm.. We can handle that, right? "Yes, ma'am," she nods to Lyri.
 Nervous? Yup, but it's a GOOD kind of nervous. 

Lyri gestures toward Ilare.  "Alright, Chanticoth first, and stick to the
 instructions."  As if /her/ particular notion of giving extra chores
 weren't warning enough.  "Everyone else step back, you'll get your turn."  

Sasha grins with an excited glint in her eyes. "Flying? Today? Oh
 Branwy....do you want to try?"

Ilare gives a sharp nod, and takes a breath. We can do this.. "Ready,
 Chan?" she gives a hint of a giggle, moving to one side as she mentally
 directs him to the other side of the bowl. Needs a good run-up, no? 

Does Branwyth want to try? As if the excited whirling of her eyes, quite in
 tempo with the glint in her 'ling's, wasn't enough, a sinous green tail
 snakes happily about Sasha' waist, whilst many exited nosings are ofered
 as well.

You think to Chanticoth, >> Remember, a run-up, jump into the air - really
 push off your hind legs - three beats of your wings, then just glide.
 Understand? <<

Chanticoth thinks to you, << I do. Run, jump, beat, glide. I can do
 that... >>

You think to Chanticoth, >> of course you can! << There was NEVER any
 doubt. Ever. >> Don't over-do it though. No more than three...  <<

Chanticoth ambles over to the far side of the bowl. First extending one
 wing, then the other, giving them a little experimental wiggle. Ok, they
 move like that. He looks to Ilare. Now?

Sasha watches Ilare her eyes huge, willing her friends on, and dying to try
 for herself....with her beloved Branwyth. One hand settles on her
 deliciously misty green neck and in silence, communicates all her
 excitement through a simple touch.

Lyri just leans back against her watching lifemate and nods at Ilare before
 looking over at Sasha.  "You see, being second means you get to learn from
 the mistakes of others..Not that I think they will make many."  Beam. 
 This she can do. 

Ilare gives a single sharp nod. He's ready? She's ready. Lets go! Time for
 him to try out those big ol' wings of his.. 

Chanticoth senses Sasha looking at him.

Branwyth
Triskells of misty green ensnare her headknobs, tattooing mystic power into
 every line of this dragon's charismatic frame and scribing spirals of
 stillwater blue across the solidity of solemn oak. She's as lithe and
 sleek as smoke, this witch of the woods, with the burning strength of
 incense imbuing her slender limbs with sensuous and seductive curves.
 Zeal radiates from the glossy mistletoe that spikes her 'ridges and
 'spars, while nightshade saves its dark venom for the crescents of
 dagger-sharp talons. But that poison is drawn by the pristinity of
 'sails as white as a virgin snowfall; drawn by the soul-deep mystery
 that revels her dark-shadowed eyes.
Worn with enormous pride around Branwyth's neck are a set of brand new
 riding straps. A deep shine alerts the observer immediately to the
 meticulously oiled leather, which is deepest royal blue, embossed
 painstakingly with a design of twisting vines of glossy ebony, the colours
 of High Reaches Weyr. Light glints off the highly polished surface of the
 silver buckles which keep the straps fitted snugly against the green hide,
 and yet allow for further growth. 
Branwyth is 7 months and 18 days old.
She is 23 feet (7m) long, with a wingspan of 38 feet (11m).
Branwyth seems to be listening.

Branwyth is practically quivering, such an undignified state for this young
 lady, but... to FLY?!?! More nosing at Sasha, as if reassuring herself
 that she'll remain watching when it is time for her to take triumphantly
 to the skies. Sasha will most certainly be the one in charge of making
 sure that the greenling doens't tire herself... Bran's too excited to
 care.

You think to Chanticoth, >> go on, hun! you can do it! <<

Chanticoth takes a tiny little step back and then starting his run-up. Not
 hard, he's been practicing that bit, after all. Run... then a /big/ jump
 into the air, pulling his legs up to keep them from trailing. Oh yes, the
 wings. One beat, two beats, oops, the third one didn't go so well. With
 the uneven stroke, Chanti starts wobbling in the air and only manages to
 get a few meters before rather unceremoniously crashing to the ground. Ow.
 He's ok, didn't get that far up, but that probably wasn't meant to happen.
 Ow...

Sasha balls her fists.....watching Chanti and admiring how enormous he has
 grown, she wills him to take to the air....."Come on Chanti...you can do
 it!" As Chanticoth unceremoniously lands, she sighs in sympathy "that was
 a really good try! You'll have it in no time!!!" she calls encouragingly.

<Local> Chanticoth senses that Branwyth winces mentally, excited spangles
 of silver and emerald suddenly collapsing in a crumpled little ball. 
 <<Ouch... Are you all right, Chanticoth?>>

Lyri winces.  "Alright, go check him over, make sure nothing hurts."  Or a
 certain dragonhealer will have her head.  "When we're sure he's alright,
 have him try it again."  That said, she moves over to the dragon as well,
 looking for any signs of damage.  "Of course it was a good start, a
 marvelous one, really.  After that hurt he'll try twice as hard to get it
 right." 

<Local> Chanticoth senses that he projects a definite feeling of
 embarrasment. << I'm alright. The ground moved. >> It wasn't him. It was
 the ground. Honest.

Ilare winces, before making her way across the snow, crunch, crunch,
 crunch, towards her lifemate. "Chanti! Oh, well tried, love..." Praise is
 given mentally as she checks... "Of course it moved, you were in the air!"
 Logic? Nope, but she's happy he started so well. "C'mon, hun, lets try
 again, huh?"

<Local> Chanticoth senses that Niamhyth restrains her more humorous
 responces in favor of encouragement.  <<This time you will catch up with
 it.>> Ok, so she didn't hold back all of the humor.

You think to Chanticoth, >> you okay, hun? <<

Chanticoth clambers to an upright position, sitting back on his haunches
 for a moment, and shaking his head to clear it. Yes, of course, try again.
 After all, he's not going to let the pesky ground get the better of him.

Chanticoth thinks to you, << Of course I am. I would tell you if I was
 not. >>

Lyri moves back to her previous position and settles in to watch, grinning
 slightly.  "Alright, no time like now for getting things going, it'll keep
 him from getting sore."  

Of course not! Because you let the ground take an inch, it'll take an
 entire mile instead! "C'mon, Chan, let's try again. Start this end and
 head back the way you came.. And remember to flap your wings.. three, not
 one, not two, but three times!" Strong, helpful Ilare reminder, neh? 

Branwyth hums encouragingly at Chanticoth as he readies for another
 attempt, leaning her head on Sasha's shoulder, 'though now she needs to
 duck to do so. Eyes whirl intently as she watches, no doubt hoping to
 avoid any mistakes made.

Alright, from the beginning. Chanticoth back up once again, watching to
 match sure that Ilare is well out of the way again. Wings out, quick glare
 at the ground and start on the run up again...

Sasha flings an arm up and over Branwyth's neck, becoming distantly aware
 that this isn't going to be possible for much longer....."Watch him
 closely, Branny.....you are going to be next!"

Chanticoth seems to be going a bit better this time. The run's the same, he
 didn't do that too badly first time round. Then he jumps up, and almost
 beats his wings unsteadily on the first time. But there's no crash this
 time, as Chanti manages to correct himself with the next two beats. The
 glide bit's easy, smoothly descending, even if the wings do seem to be
 wiggling a bit uncertainly, and the landing means that he has to scrabble
 for purchase on ground, coming to an abrupt halt, wings flapping to halt
 him. Look! He did it! And didn't crash!! Yay! Take that, ground!

Sasha leaps into the air, cheering for all she is worth. "Oh
 wow....Chanticoth you great brown monster...you did it!!!Whooooooooo!!"

Ilare steps away, watching, thinking with him - run, jump, beat one, two,
 three, Glide!! And didn't he do well? A happy cheer escapes her, and she
 bounces. "Oh, well done, lad! We'll work on your landing of course, but
 that was excellent!" Shining gold eyes glitter with pride - well done to
 him!  

Branwyth offers a bugle of triumph as well, rearing back on her hindlegs,
 and fanning her wings, although the action is considerately toned down, so
 as not to knock her Sasha off of her feet.

Lyri claps once.  "Good show, very good. You are now cleared to fly about
 the weyr on short practice flights at first, longer as he strengthens. No
 going out of the weyr and no mounted flights until you're given the go
 ahead. Got it?"  Sasha is gestured toward.  "Alright, you two next,
 remember what I said to Ilare and Chanticoth, because the same goes for
 you."  

Ilare giggles very happily. "Yes, Lyri!" Oh, how proud she is! Didn't he do
 well? Motioning him to move aside, and over to her, she beams, before
 turning. "Good luck Branwyth!"

Sasha grabs hold of Ilare and gives her a huge hug! "Oh you must be so
 monumentally proud of him!!!!" Shielding her eyes from the glare of the
 snow, she gazes exstatically at the huge brown, almost forgetting...but
 not quite, that it is Branwyth's attempt at flight next.

Chanticoth rumbles with happiness as he hurries back to Ilare, this time by
 the old-fashioned method of moving the legs. That was fun. Can we do it
 again?

You think to Chanticoth, >> well done! Oh, well done, you beauty! << Lots
 of praise? Yup! >> No more now, but later we can have you flying! I don't
 want you to over stretch yourself too early, okay? <<

Chanticoth thinks to you, << *sighs* Alright. But it's still fun...  >>

Branwyth hums to herself as she abandons Sasha with a final nudge, and
 carries herself more or less gracefully to the 'takeoff area', stretching
 her wings a few times, attempting a warmup of sorts before the real
 action.

Chanticoth swings her head in Branwyth's direction, eager to see the other
 dragon's attempts. Watch that ground, now.

You think to Chanticoth, >> I don't doubt it!  <<

Ilare * lets Chanti stay to watch. ;)
You click your heels three times.

[~~ At this point I had to D/C, but my lovely PD was still online, and
 kindly forwarded me what she'd logged of the rest of the class. ~~]

Ilare goes home.

Chanticoth *blinks. /Let/s me??

Niamhyth *snickers. Humans. Give them an apposable thumb and they think
 they run things.

Branwyth flaps her wings a few more times, before setting them in place for
 her run. With less grace than speed, she manages a decent sprint, then
 it's One, Two... whoops, can't forget Three! And the greenling takes to
 the air, a trifle unbalanced owing to the slightly-off rhythm of her
 beats, quickly corrected as she takes to gliding, showing promise of
 future grace, until the moment she makes contanct with Pern once more.
 'Rough' would be an understatement as *whump* she settels to the ground,
 narrowly avoiding a faceplant.

Chanticoth bounces on his forelegs, making rumbling noises of happiness.
 She did so much better than he did! Nice landing.

Sasha leaps up and down cheering a whooping and sprints to Branwyth,
 slipping here and there on the icy ground "That was soooo good! I knew you
 could do it!" she enthuses as she flings her arms around the lowered neck,
 and kisses Branwyths nose repeatedly.

Lyri would chuckle, but she's managing to hold it on. "And there's where
 the light weight is an advantage." Snerk. No, really, she didn't laugh.
 "Check her over for any damage, the we'll get her into the air again." The
 kissing is only given a slight wince... she's getting used to it, honest. 

kissing=dragon kissing. 

Branwyth rumbles quietly, carrying a pleased air about herself, and
 accepting kisses, hugs, and assorted congratulating with a regal air,
 as if she'd only been doing what she was supposed to be... why all the
 fuss. But the act could use a little work...

Sasha hurridly scans Branwy all over for any signs of damage....."There's
 nothing that I can see wrong with her..." she calls back to Lyri, bursting
 with the excitement of the moment. Swirling to gaze into Branwyth's
 beautiful eyes, she whhispers loudly..."Wanna do it again?"

Branwyth hums to herself and to Sasha, and quickly frees herself to head
 off for another try, as soon as the word is given. Wings rustle again in
 eagerness, as she privately endeavours to do better still.

Lyri stands back, eyes locked on the young weyrling in flight, though it's
 clear that she's double checking everything with her own lifemate. "I
 believe she'll do better this round." Hopefully without injury. 

Sasha wanders back to join Lyri and she too gazes with quiet excitement
 glittering in her dark eyes. "Go On Branwyth!" she calls.." Get that
 lovely green bottom up in the air!"

Branwyth once more speeds herself forward, leaning into the wind. Momentum
 is a good thing, right? More attention is paid to her wingbeats, this
 time, and with a count of three, she's once more aloft. This time better
-balanced, she manages a glide of quite respectable length for a green on
 her second flight, settling to the ground a little more gently, although
 it's still a /very/ good thing that she's not carrying a rider...

Sasha glows with pride and pleasure and cannot disguise her violent
 admiration for her lifemate. "Isn't she perfect!" she whispers half to
 Lyri and half to herself."Wonderful Branwyth!!!!it will be second nature
 in no time and I promise you we will get in lots of practise now!"

Lyri gives a clap, "Very good, Branwyth, very good," then turns back to
 Sasha. "You can practice this now, but no long flights. No going out of
 the weyr and no trying it mounted. Trust me, you'll get enough time in the
 air soon enough." 

Lyri walks to the Weyrling Barracks.

<Local> Chanticoth senses that Branwyth thinks << sends bursting, exicited,
 triumphant swirls of vibrant green, blue and gold. <<Chanticoth, we
 /flew/!!>> Obvious, yes, but still noteworthy to her thinking. >>

<Local> Chanticoth senses that he's mindvoice hugs excited and happy gold
 and silver threads. << We flew! I did crash... but that was not my fault.
 >> Let us not forget the ground, after all. << And we will get even
 better! >>

Sasha pats Chanticoth and Branwy, in congratulation. "The first out of our
 weyrling group to fly....I'm sooo proud of both of you!"

Branwyth accepts the patting with a regal nod of her darkly-emerald head.
 Flying /is/ what dragons do, after all. But the excited whirling of her
 eyes rather ruins the effect, as she's rather more than a little pleased
 with herself, personally.

Chanticoth makes a sound deep in his throat. Half rumble, half.. purr?
 Well, it's definitely happiness, that's for sure. And he's just about
 recovered from an intimate encounter with the stone ground.

Sasha grins manically at the two dragons, towering over her, even though
 still relatively young. "Come on - lets go and ogle our success on the
 Weyrling board!"

Sasha strides confidently to the Weyrling Barracks.

Branwyth shuffles a little unsteadily to the Weyrling Barracks.

You go to the Weyrling 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 Kelitath, Vespurath, and Niamhyth.
Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are nine firelizards.
Green Branwyth is here.
You see Weyrling Progress Record and Dragon Wing here.
Sasha is here.

Branwyth offers an approving look at the progress board. Yes, another
 lovely mark has been added at the spot that Sasha says is theirs.
 Incomprehensible, of course, but nice to have nonetheless.

Sasha gazes with a deep sigh of satisfaction at the board. "I think we are
 doing alright!"

Chanticoth eyes the board with a slowly whirling eye. Which one's Ilare's
 and his line? The long one? Ooh... but there are two long ones...


------------------------------  End Log  ------------------------------