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Formal In Formation


Date:  October 8, 2008
Place:  Igen's Weyrling Training Field
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Bad luck took me away from the Internet for two weeks
right after the Weyrlings Impressed.  This wasn't the scheduled class,
but a mini-class we ran for 'Lings who couldn't make the proposed 
date.  It happened the day after my return and saw H'sen, Lekath,
T'nnusen, Dustenyth, and (a bit later) Ch'ton and Mobeth experiencing
two vital moments in a dragonpair's life--the time a rider first sits 
astride his lifemate, and a dragon's first taste of flight.

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The Log:

Formality be sharded, Kassima's leaning against Lysseth's shoulder as the
Weyrlings arrive, and the green hovers a protective head over her rider at
all times. "I haven't missed too much," she murmurs to A'deth. "If'n I
recovered in time for this... we'll see how they've done with the straps. I
certes trust *you* t'be finicky about stitching!"

A'deth's leaning on his cane, and he stands near Kassima; Jaelith looks on
from somewhat further away. "Indeed." His smile is faint, but warm for her;
nonetheless, he keeps his commentary restrained.

H'sen and Lekath arrive as instructed, the former snapping a crisp salute
to the Weyrlingmaster and her Assistant. "It's good to have you back,
Weyrlingmaster," he says. He figures a few nicities wouldn't hurt,
especially if they're going to be looking over his work in the strap
department, which has been something he has struggled with.

T'nnusen hauls his latest set of straps out along with various other
weyrlings who trail out at the same time, Dustenyth wandering out behind
him. He sketches a very formal salute to the both of the waiting
green-riders once he's about as close as the rest of them, his other hand
holding all the leather and bits over his shoulder so that it's not
dragging on the ground.

Kassima keeps her answering smile to A'deth fleeting, with Weyrlings
present, but the warmth she sends him back is more personal than a
Weyrlingmaster's appreciation for her skilled Assistant. She turns to face
the class and crisply salutes them in turn. "'Tis very good t'be back,
H'sen. Now! Groundriding. A'fore you can get on your lifemates for the
first time, we need t'be seeing you put those straps on your lifemates.
Then inspecting 'em, so I hope you've put in the work they need. Everyone
spread out--give us room t'see you--and buckle 'em up."

A'deth salutes the Weyrlings, too, and then looks on in silence.

Putting on riding straps is pretty far from being H'sen's favorite thing,
partly because he knows just how important it is. Lekath seems to enjoy it,
though, mostly because it feels like they're getting down to business.
H'sen starts by laying out the straps in their general configuration, just
so he can make sure all the tangles and twists are out. Then with Lekath's
assistance, he begins bringing them around onto the dragon's body,
fastening and testing them carefully. It's a good thing this isn't a timed
test.

Dustenyth and T'nnusen shuffle around with many of the others, spreading
out, and then Tannu goes about silently doing as everyone else is doing:
putting straps on his dragon and trying not to screw it up.

K'tel checks out the Candidates' paintings.

"Look over that group?" Kassi asks A'deth quietly, nodding towards the half
of the class including H'sen. She means the half including T'nnusen for
herself, evidently. Of course, that means she has to move... and she does:
straightens up from her lean and walks steadily, though not brisk, to watch
the young bluerider in silence. Mostly silence. "Remember t'keep still,
Dustenyth, especially when you're bigger; you'll have t'lower your neck
then t'be reached." It's not a correction, but a note for later. "Does it
all feel comfortable?"

A'deth moves off to inspect said half, and when he pauses by H'sen, he does
so for a while. "You'll need to make that stitching much more regular," he
says finally, quietly. "Or it'll pull too hard at some places, and not
enough at others, and put strain on the straps. It's tiresome, but you'll
appreciate not splattering yourself against the ground."

H'sen tries directing Lekath into helping by pointing, little nudges, and
silent instructions. The bronze is a little too stiff to be very effective.
At A'deth's advice, H'sen nods. "This stretch is the part I did first, and
that's the worst of it. It gets better in this area." But it's true he
doesn't want to be a splat on the ground. He gives Lekath a nudge with his
shoulder. The bronze wiggles a little, and the line he was having
difficulty with falls into place.

Dustenyth rumbles in reply, which doesn't seem to be him complaining, as
his weyrling buckles and straps and overcomplicates things accordingly. "He
says he's getting used to it, Weyrlingmaster." T'nnusen replies for him,
quite formally.

Kassima nods to both the dragon and the human halves of the pair. "Riding
leathers take getting used to too. Which reminds me, if'n you lot don't
already have wherhide pants--" She raises her voice to address this to all
the Weyrlings. "Pick some up from Stores. You don't need jackets yet, but
neckridges can dig, and your thighs chafe. Dragon hide's pretty smooth but
they can wriggle around a good bit beneath you." A second survey and
T'nnusen's straps get a thumb's up. Kassi continues down her line,
adjusting this piece of leather here, correcting a buckle's placement
there; in one case, shaking her head at a Weyrling and gesturing for the
straps to be removed. The crooked stitching and poor knots could be seen
from space, so it's not much wonder. Once she's done the round she returns
to Lysseth's side and again talks to all of them. "D'you know, the only
thing I can sew is straps, and the only reason I can sew straps is that
I've had t'do it over, and over, and over, as a Weyrling and now. The gear
you make doesn't have t'be beautiful and you don't have t'be talented.
Dogged persistence *will* get you there. A'deth? Are we ready?"

A'deth considers. "For this, yes. For flight, no," and he addresses H'sen,
and the others, too: "We'll want to see better stitching in the next few
days. You've seen Jaelith and Lysseth's straps. Make sure they match that,
or you'll stay grounded until they do."

H'sen triple-checks the strap buckles, making sure they're at the right
setting and they're secure. Lekath grows quickly enough that he can even
need to have his straps let out from day to day. "Yessir. I'll work on it."
He'll have to work on his speed putting these strap sets together or he'll
spend the rest of his weyrlinghood working on finishing a set of straps.

It's testament to T'nnusen's mood that he doesn't immediately make a
comment about leather pants, leaving it at a simple eyebrow-raise
Dustenyth's way.

"Indeed." Kassima nods to A'deth. "Well-made straps take practice; you'll
practice until you get it right, or explain t'your lifemates why you aren't
flying together. Those of you who've passed inspection...." This excludes
M'dras. His brows lower; clearly, he's fighting a scowl, but he wins the
battle--probably as much to his own surprise as anyone's. "We're going
t'mount up first, get into a simple formation second. A'deth, if'n
'twould--I'm thinking you can demonstrate mounting best. Your lifemates
will forgive you if'n you kick 'em by accident, Weyrlings, but I know how
badly you'd feel for that. Watch closely." Does she make any leather pants
comments herself? No, but her fight against a half-grin doesn't equal
M'dras's victory.

A'deth inclines his head to Kassima, and proceeds to clamber atop his
dragon-- without his cane, which he slips into a loop of her straps. No
flash, no vaulting, he just grabs the proper straps, uses rings as
foot-holds when he must, and climbs up quickly and neatly.

"Excellent," Kassima says, flashing A'deth a bright smile from the ground.
"Your turn," she tells the Weyrlings, "climb up as soon as you're ready."

H'sen watches A'deth go up, still somewhat amazed that dragonriders can
climb up and down so easily, a hundred times a day. "Go easy on me," he
says quietly to Lekath. "I don't have any of those special pants yet." It's
not like "special pants" will make that much of a difference in their class
today, but just the idea that he's missing them makes H'sen a little more
nervous. "Okay, stay still. I mean, help me out. Or, whatever." He hauls
himself up the straps, until he finally reaches Lekath's neckridges and
settles himself in.

Which leaves T'nnusen as one of the weyrlings still on the ground some few
minutes later, after a few aborted tries. But he climbs up without much
issue after that rough start, and sways a little once he's up there.
"Shards, you're tall," he murmurs to the blue, clipping himself in and then
peering down. Dustenyth might not be fully grown yet, and he's been atop of
Jaelith and probably others besides, but it's different when it's the one
in your head that you're perched atop of!

"I should," Kassi muses, watching Weyrlings mount up one by one, "have
provided all of you with poof pants a'fore this class started. Plenty of
give in those and it would've been a sight...." Trailing off, she sighs far
more morosely than poofy pants ever, ever call for: oh yes, such a sight
for the ages. It's when the Weyrlings are mostly busy mounting that she
turns to climb quietly up onto Lysseth, doing so carefully. The green holds
absolutely still. The most enormous jade statue ever carved would show no
less movement than she. "Congratulations," Kassi calls to them from on
high. "You're dragons and *riders*, as it should be! How does it feel?"

"Igen riders," A'deth echoes firmly. "All of you." He slews around so that
he can observe, too, most especially Kassima until she's securely in her
seat. "And we can give them poof pants for flying practice. They'll look
like they'll have wings of their own."

A'deth adds after a moment, "And they can use them to float down if their
straps break."

H'sen looks around, casting a grin at his classmates. It feels like they've
come a long way since that nervous day on the Sands. Surprisingly, he
doesn't even feel like he's that far off the ground, not with Lekath there
with him at virtually the same line of sight. "What's that? Poof pants?
What's that?" For some reason, "pants" and "poof" don't seem to go well
together.

"...You've no ground to call /me/ heavy," T'nnusen says to his dragon, "I
shovel more than my weight of what comes out of you every day, now." At the
poof pants bit, the blond just snorts, the action mimicked by the
black-blue dragonet under him when he apparently shares what /that/ means.
He won't comment about being a rider, choosing instead to look down at the
straps he's secured by and then to scritch Dusty's neck from this new vantage.

This is an idea that appeals to Kassi! She laughs, and she laughs, her
shoulders quivering for several seconds after she's managed to silence
herself. "Oh, beautiful. You and I will have t'be wearing 'em too,
a'course. We're Mirage too. I wonder if'n I can find any in sisal? Silver
stitching?" Uh-oh, H'sen's asked for details. "They're pants with legs so
loose--but the cuffs are tight, the waist is tight, 'tis just the legs that
billow out all over the place. W'adru invented 'em, as far as I know. Nay
truly appropriate Weyrling class wear, but I can *picture* it... I'm off on
such a tangent. We'll line up now in a V, Weyrlings. Usually positions in a
formation are chosen according to a dragon's size. In a forward V, the
largest dragon is at the point. The smallest are at either end. Let's see
you arrange yourselves appropriately, aye?" Lysseth provides a starting
point, moving into place in that 'largest dragon' position; green or no
she's still got something in size over the dragonets.

A'deth inclines his head quite agreeably to them all, and Jaelith moves
into position near Lysseth. He remarks, perhaps pondering that matter of
size, "For now, the arrangement of colors is not what many wings will be
like once you graduate. Bronzes, browns, blues, and greens, though it might
be different depending on who's your wingleader... but we'll teach you the
mechanics of that then, and how size affects fighting techniques then.
Having all of you lot move in a straight line'll be challenge enough for
today. Mind your wings and tails, now. Don't want anything stepped on or
anyone whacked in the face."

H'sen frowns a little as Kassima describes the pants. "Sounds like they
would flap around a lot in the wind." He doesn't actually believe they will
be forced to wear the poof pants, but he has been wrong before. Lekath
vocalizes a soft warble--sort of like the rumble the larger dragons do, but
in a teenager's breaking voice. "Fine, all right. There," he says softly to
the bronze, and they move into position near Jaelith, given that Lekath is
larger than any of the other young dragons besides Sislyth. "How's that,
Lek? Now do as they said and mind your limbs."

Dustenyth takes an experimental step forward, and when T'nnusen doesn't do
anything embarrassing -- like fall off -- he takes a few more, ending up
near the end of one side of the V. Lots of baby blues to choose from in
this bunch, as far as order goes!

"There are mixed Wings; there are Wings that specialize, in
maneuverability--so they end up mostly blue and green--or endurance, bronze
and brown. In the middle of a Pass a full Wing would have many members. As
the Interval goes on they're likely t'thin out more and more." Kassima
speaks of Wings with a sort of casual authority. "As A'deth says, we'll get
more into it later, and for now we'll focus just on this. *Think* about how
much space is between you and the next dragon in formation. D'you have
enough room t'maneuver, if'n 'twere in the air? Would you be running into
each other? This takes practice too! Your lifemates may have a better sense
of how far off a clutchmate is than *you* do, because they can sense each
other with more than eyes. Trust 'em," she advises. "For now... nay too
shabby, young riders. We're going t'move forward now one dragonlength.
*Keep position*." Lysseth's remarkably steady, remarkably poised in walking
forward, even though ground locomotion isn't her strength. She jostles her
rider not once during the short journey.

Jaelith keeps precisely one dragonlength between herself and Lysseth; those
who observe closely will notice that length is roughly the same as either
green. "You must," says A'deth, "Be aware of everything and everyone around
you at all times. But for now, think just of your fellow dragonpairs. We'll
throw things at you some other day."

Lekath is highly attentive to this process, his head held high, very
careful to keep the right distance between himself and the dragons around
him. If he has a fault, it is because he seems to want to break into a
jaunty gambol, and H'sen has to keep reminding him to slow up. The bronze
makes do with lashing his tail with great enthusiasm, despite the fact that
it creates somewhat of a hazard for the dragonet behind him.

Dustenyth similarly steps forward, settling into a slow semi-march that
matches Lysseth step-size for step-size and count. He acted militaristic
straight out of the shell, so this dutifulness isn't much of a surprise.
Tannu murmurs his encouragement, far enough down the line -- a brown,
another blue -- from Lekath to avoid that lashing tail. The dragonets
between them, though, might have something else to say about it...

Kassima agrees sunnily, "And you'll all turn *orange*." Oh-kay. Whatever
she's imagining there, it amuses her. She checks frequently on the
Weyrlings spread out behind her, and so she catches Lekath's tail in
motion, and calls to the young dragon, "If'n 'twere in the air you'd
probably send yourself out of formation and off-course with that! Be formal
in formation, young bronze, save the play for when you and H'sen are
running across the Bowl alone." His enthusiasm for the task wins a quick
grin anyway. Soon enough they're all in place, assembled, at least after
she's gestured for Salvadath to move more to the right if she pleases. She
nods satisfaction, then, "Well done. Dismount! T'nnusen, Dustenyth, come
forward. You stayed in place well, Dustenyth. You'll be the first t'try
your wings today."

H'sen gives Lekath a few stern thoughts, and the bronze settles down a bit.
He seems to act like this every time they try something new, but
fortunately he does improve. H'sen, for his part, has a little difficulty
climbing down, but eventually he makes it down without breaking any limbs.
He smiles faintly as he watches T'nnusen and Dustenyth have their try at
the next part of the lesson.

A'deth dismounts, too, showing the way down as efficiently as he had the
way up.

Tannu exhales silence instead of whatever comment he might normally have
made, and climbs down just as slowly as he'd climbed up. He gives the blue
a hearty pat on the foreleg, though, and comes forward as asked, dragonet
included. "I'm sure she'll tell you what to do," he says to Dusty, who
despite his careful pace to not leave his human behind, has fast-whirling
eyes and is undoubtedly peppering Tannu with questions.

Kassima's dismount is like her mounting too: cautious and careful, and her
green watches every second. She, like the Weyrlings, achieves the ground
without incident; "Very good," she assures them. "You'll gain polish." Now
the Weyrlingmaster and her lifemate move out of the formation too, though
not very far since there was already room enough for the Weyrlings to see
and Lysseth to ascend--and Kassi waits for T'nnusen and Dustenyth to
approach before she speaks to the blue. "You're a fine young dragon, like
your clutchmates. You absolutely can do this. From where you are, you'll
take off and fly one dragonlength, as much as we walked forward, and land.
You'll then return t'where you are. Lyss will show you, and Jaelith,
please, if'n you'd follow suit?"

Lysseth is willing enough to do this task. Many Turns from Weyrlinghood she
may be; she still loves flight. The long charcoal-edged wings spread out;
she makes a show of checking her airspace, and then--a jump--she's up, not
so much flying as coasting such a short distance, landing very neatly
exactly where she intended.

Dragon> Igen Weyrling Wing sense that Lysseth's voice is crystalline, long
and tapering spires sparkling in shades of blue, violet, green. << To land
is the most difficult part, >> she cautions all the young dragons. <<
You'll probably bobble. That's fine, it's better to look a little clumsy
than hurt yourselves trying to make it perfect the first time. >>

H'sen watches with the other weyrlings, Lekath taking a great interest in
Dustenyth's attempt. The young bronze looks like he trying to keep himself
from wriggling in excitement at the prospect of flight at last but he
confines it to the twitching of his tailtip.

Jaelith does precisely as requested, slowly, slowly, her wings moving with
deliberate care, a slow-motion demonstration in how it should be done. When
she lands, she does the same, using her wings to catch the air and slow her
descent, letting her weight fall back onto her haunches as she settles down.

Dragon> Igen Weyrling Wing sense that Lekath returns, his mindvoice like a
breath of cool wind, << That flight is a very short hop, though. I want to
fly far, as far as the ocean. When will we be able to do that? >>

Dragon> Igen Weyrling Wing sense that Lysseth flashes a sapphire facet at
the young bronze. << When your wings are strong enough, your heart and
lungs big enough, and your rider is ready to go along. Remind him to work
hard on those straps, Lekath. >>

Dustenyth lowers his head a little in concentration as he watches the two
bigger greens take off briefly and land, particularly Jaelith's more
exaggerated demonstration. He flares out his stained-glass wings and then
jumps, a little skewed, and when he lands it's a few meters longer than
he'd intended and the landing itself is hard. Though he /tried/ to mimic
Jaelith's scoop with his wings, it's a lot different in real-time!

And T'nnusen trots forward quickly to check the dragonet's talons for
cracks at that landing, though he can't help but smile at Dusty's first
airborne moment anyway!

Dragon> Igen Weyrling Wing sense that Dustenyth's mindvoice is all silvery
crystalline moonlight, as cool and remote as a midnight winter sky; as if
one flew among the stars with no land ever in sight. There's that purr,
too, already, a piece of T'nnusen's own voice -- << You're all distracting,
>> proclaims Dustenyth, << and that's harder than it looks. >>

Kassima doesn't appear to mind the flaws, or the smile either. In fact, she
claps with open pleasure in their success. "He did it! There! Did you all
see?" she asks the other Weyrlings, as if they wouldn't have been watching!
"Don't *worry* that they don't look like grown, adult dragons doing this.
All that needs t'worry you is whether they're hurt, have any scrapes or
twisted any muscles, with the ankles and wings being most likely for that.
Always run your hands over your dragon's joints after a stumble or any long
exercise. Fall, drills. Even grown they may be too *tired* t'be knowing
if'n they're hurt... you probably know the feeling, waking up with some
bruise you didn't notice the day a'fore. *Very* good. Lekath! C'mon up,
you're next."

Dragon> Igen Weyrling Wing sense that Lekath seems to puff up a bit. << My
wings get stronger every day. My H'sen... he will be ready soon. I will
make him do the straps right, even if we have to spend a long, long time on
it. >>

At her rider's silent request, Lysseth once more springs into the air from
her landing point. This time she backwings to touch the ground right in
front of the Wing of Weyrlings: this, here, is how to angle the wings; this
is when to slow yourself; she hasn't Jaelith's skill at doing it slowly to
show them beat-by-beat. Her form, however, is faultless.

Without being asked, Jaelith simply repeats what Lysseth does, just as
slowly as she had the first time. A'deth just beams at T'nnusen, and then
H'sen-- he seems minded, evidently, to think that the young bronze should
do just as well.

Lekath is already at attention, but having his name called makes a little
excited wriggle slip out of his control. "Now, you have to do excactly as
the Weyrlingmaster says. Go only as far as Lysseth showed us. If you don't
behave, you'll get is in trouble and we'll never get to the ocean." This
reminder seems to have its desired effect, and the young bronze settles
down. Lekath hunkers down and readies his wings. After a test wriggle, he
leaps up, spreading his wings out in a flash of bronze. He is airborne for
one shining moment, and then he drops--suddenly, heart-stoppingly, catching
himself at the last second with the backwing technique, more out of
instinct, self-preservation, or maybe luck than actual skill.

T'nnusen takes a step forward at that, from back in his place next to
Dustenyth in the formation, but then stops himself and looks A'deth's way.

Ch'ton heads over from the beach.

[Editor's Note:  Ch'ton decided to join the class, so ICly he'd been
there all along. :) ]

Again Kassima claps, but her delight in Lekath's flight is mixed with a
worried furrow for what almost went wrong. "Dustenyth was right," she tells
H'sen. "'Tis harder than it looks. Check him--claws, ankles, wings!"

H'sen feels his heart in his throat as Lekath drops, only to catch himself
at the last instant. He runs over to his lifemate to check him over
anxiously. "Shells, you almost gave me a heart attack! Be more careful,
would you?" he scolds. The young dragon looks sheepish, but all of his
parts seem intact. "I know, but they want you to take baby steps, just to
make sure you don't get hurt. Be more careful next time, all right?" Lekath
whuffles his rider's hair in damp apology, and inspite of his earlier fear,
H'sen gives a soft laugh. "Yeah, I know. It was cool."

A'deth nods to T'nnusen, and then observes Lekath closely, watching for any
sign of injury, and nodding with satisfaction when there is none. "Good
enough for your first flights, both of you... the first half, anyway."

Ch'ton flinches, and sighs at the near-disaster. "Wow. That was almost
unfortunate." he says, reaching up with a scratchy sleeve to wipe the sweat
off of his forehead. He glances over to Mobeth, his eyes semiglossy for a
second as he has a quick, private exchange, then he looks up. "And sweet
flight, H'sen. Lekath."

Tannu just stands where he is, one hand on Dustenyth's leg, his shoulders
relaxing a little when A'deth doesn't end up having to rush up to the
bronze over a torn wing muscle, or any other number of things that probably
went through both dragonhealers' minds.

It seems called for for Kassima to cross the span to Lekath herself,
Lysseth trailing after as a dusky pine shadow. "In the Infirmary," she says
to the bronze, "there are probably drawings somewhere of what happens
t'young dragons who can't stop being overeager. I'm sure someone could find
'em for H'sen t'be seeing. I'm nay upset with you, but I want you t'*try*
and be cautious in what you do. I want t'get t'witness your sight of the
ocean." Rather than not witnessing it, because he's crippled himself and
can't fly that far. "D'you ken? ...But 'tis true. The flying was good.
You'll remember the backwinging next time!" Her smile for dragon and rider
doesn't take the gravity out of her words, but supports her claim not to be
upset. She returns to her prior place and scans the Weyrlings who haven't
yet flown, deciding, "Mobeth, you're next. Remember! One dragonlength. Land
with care."

Ch'ton snaps his head up slightly, and a grin across his face. "And
carefully!" he says to the blue, aloud.

Lekath seems to grow more serious as the Weyrlingmaster addresses him. He
will do better, he will be more careful, and he will show more control.
H'sen smiles at Kassima. "He says he'll do better next time. But, um... he
wants to know when we'll be able to practice flying again." It doesn't
occur to him until after he asks that the question itself might delay their
next practice.

Ch'ton and the Blue Mobeth step foreward from the others. Ch'ton nods his
encouragement, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "Go for it." he says,
his voice betraying some anxiety, though. Mobeth, taking a quick look at
his rider for support, and folds down into a crouch to push off from the
ground with his hindlegs. A few wingbeats and the colbalt blue is into the
air, though with only a slight faulter as a poorly timed communique from
Lekath makes him skip a beat in the pattern, but he's quick to correct and
begin his glide. One meter, two, three.... twenty... twenty two... The blue
starts his landing, preparing. A check here, a glance down, right. He comes
closer to the ground, anticipating it.... and.... he backwings, slowing
himself near the one-dragonlegnth mark and comming down, bending his legs
to absorb the impact. He stumbles a little, though, getting his tail caught
underneath him, but quick-thinking prevents a total head-over-tail tumble,
and he ends up just looking a little foolish.

A'deth nonetheless begins to move Mobeth's way, looking rather concerned.

T'nnusen yet again takes a step forward and then pauses, though this time
he's watching the senior, only, to see if he's going to need any
assistance. He's been a dragonhealer longer than he's been a weyrling, but
he knows who the real expert is!

Kassima chuckles softly, under her breath. "Tomorrow," she says. "Every day
after that so long as he and you follow the rules, and neither of you is
sick or hurt. You'll all do this again tomorrow--and we'll increase the
length you fly a bit every day. You'll practice your formations on your
dragon's neck, and you'll ride around the Bowl, on the ground, t'be
toughening up your thigh muscles. Congratulations, Weyrling-riders. Your
workload just got that much worse." She teases them with the truth and lets
them all see her wry half-smile. Of course, as soon as Mobeth's taken off
all her attention is for him: she starts to call something, but A'deth is
on it and that satisfies her. "Go," Kassi tells Ch'ton. "Check him with
A'deth, make sure he's all right."

Ch'ton doesn't really know wether to laugh or to be a worried mess,
because, in truth, the poor blue did look rather silly. He steps foreward,
moving in-step with A'deth, towards his lifemate, his eyes glossing over as
they spoke. "Well?" a pause as he reaches the dragonet, listening to the
responce. He nods once. "Mobeth says that he had fun." pause, "and that he
stepped on himself. His tail." another pause, relaying the information,
"Uh... and that his tail aches, but he thinks it's nothing." Ch'ton
crouches down to take a look. "Think you hurt the ground?" he asks his
dragon teasingly.

H'sen listens to Kassima and then flashes a grin at Lekath. "See, I told
you we'd get to do more. But keep thinking baby steps." The bronze tries
out a high-stepped trot in place, just barely inching forward, and the
weyrling just shakes his head. Some distance from them, when Mobeth has his
turn, the two watch. "Good try," H'sen calls, then he tilts his head
slightly as he tries to discern if they are finding any injury.

Ch'ton shakes his head and stands up. "Mobeth's fine, but I think the poor
ground's gonna need a bandage." he teases, giving a loving pat to his blue.
"C'mon you!" he says, patting Mobeth. The pair return to the others.

A'deth watches them go, peering quite critically at that tail. "All you
dragons," he informs them and their riders, "Will go bathe in the hot
springs when this is all over. If anything is stiff or sore in the morning,
you /will/ let me know immediately."

Dustenyth rumbles at that, and Tannu translates for him by nodding.

H'sen looks up at Lekath, who doesn't look like he's ready to relax in a
hot spring any time soon, but he nods to A'deth. "Yesssir," he says.

"Seconded," Kassima says. "You'll let me know as well. When 'tis a question
of dragon health you go straight to A'deth." Two more pairs remain, with
straps approved, to take their flights, and she gestures them up one by
one; it doesn't take more than a few minutes until both are finished
without mishap. "...That's enough for one class," Kassi says when all are
done, "unless anyone has any questions?"

H'sen reaches up and pats Lekath's shoulder. "No questions here," he says,
then to Lekath, "You did a great job. Things will just get better and
better from here on out."

"None here either," T'nnusen adds quietly.

A'deth wanders back over to Kassima's side, and looks /her/ over as
intently as he had the dragonets-- perhaps her, er, tail is busted? Or a
wing torn? Or maybe he's just fretting needlessly.

No questions asked, so, "Class dismissed." Kassima grins full-out at the
Weyrlings, briefly--and tiredly. Her pleasure in their performance is
nonetheless evident and real. "Get off to the hot springs and celebrate
with a soak." Turning to face A'deth, she reaches for one of his hands to
hold, and squeeze, silent assurance that she's all right. Her tail's just
fine, thank you.

H'sen motions to Lekath, encouraging him to follow. "Come on, you heard the
Weyrlingmaster. A long soak for you and few more long hours restitching
riding straps for me." They head off.

T'nnusen for one gives a curt nod to all, and then wanders off with
Dustenyth to do as told.

T'nnusen heads towards the lake to the west.

Dustenyth heads towards the lake to the west.

H'sen strides towards the center of the Bowl.

Lekath strides towards the center of the Bowl.

A'deth lifts her hand to his lips. "And you," he informs her gently,
"Should rest, my dear Weyrlingmaster."

Ch'ton strides towards the center of the Bowl.

Kassima turns her wrist to glide the backs of her fingers along his cheek.
The Weyrlings have departed, and she's free to look at him the way she's
wanted to, weary, yes, but that open love and deep affection could light
wearier eyes than hers. "Probably true. M'most considerate Assistant. Would
you keep me company in resting?"

"With pleasure," A'deth whispers, and he leans down to kiss, this time, her
lips. That she is here with him is still not something he takes for
granted; he will undoubtedly never do so, if he ever even would have. That
they should stand together in the Bowl, looking on as Weyrlings file off...
such mundane things, in her presence, are a treasure. As is she.