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A Touch of Class


Date:  September 6, 2004
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Central Bowl and Lake Shore
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:  Yay!  With this Weyrling group, mentors have thus far
been welcome to sit in on classes and even participate in a way, 
something I've been enjoying immensely. :)  Kassi's been assigned to
Claret, green Avrieth's Weyrling, and V'lano, bronze Volath's Weyrling,
as mentor; she thus has the chance to help out a little in getting 
them checked out before the class starts--it's groundriding this time-- 
and watching their progress during.  It was a great class, with a lot 
of great RPers in it, and an absolute blast for yours truly. :)

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The Log:

You fly downwards towards the bowl.

<*> Claret nods assuredly at Avrieth. "There, you see? You're nicer this
way." Nodding toward Eugenian, Claret adds, "Or if you didn't want to stay,
though I think that'd be lovely, you could still come and visit, right?
More frequently, I mean." Nodding in time with Avrieth's croon, Claret
murmurs, "All right, we'll go. I'm going to get food, and she's going to
get oil, before coming out again," Claret supplies, leaning forward so that
Avrieth can move without knocking her over. "It was nice to see you again,
Amarie, and awfully nice to see you again Eugenian. I do hope you come by
again!" Sending a wave to the others and a salute to I'sai, she follows
Avrieth back to the barracks.

<*> Eugenian listens to the chatter, curiosity obvious. He pauses, doing a
doubletake at I'sai, "What? Come back?" He furrows his brows, the concept
obviously striking him as odd. But then, did someone just offer him a job?
He looks even more wary of that. "But no, no..I didn't apprentice. I'm just
fortunate that Amarie lets me tag along after her." And he turns to see
Claret and Avrieth leaving and he ohs, "Good luck with the training and all
that, Claret!" He's struggling with some seriously conflicting emotions at
the moment, his expression clearly showing it.

<*> Claret walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

<*> Avrieth enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

<*> Amarie sweeps her hair back off her forehead, pushing it back. It falls
back into place a moment later as she calls out, "Good night Claret!"
waving at the young girl. To I'sai she says, "Eugenian hasn't apprenticed
anywhere as of yet and he's getting of an age where it'd be too late to do
so."

<*> Lysseth doesn't fly down so much as she glides, her wings cutting a
near-silent path through the air until physics require her to backwing into
a reasonably delicate landing. On her neck, Kassi gives the green hide an
appreciative thump and extricates herself from the straps, waiting until
she's en route--cautiously--to the ground to greet the Bowl with a
cheerful, "G'day, g'deve, whatever you'd call it, all."

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

I'sai dismisses Claret with an absent nod; he's still giving Eugenian that
assessing look, although at Amarie's comment he grimaces, suddenly boyish.
"Sound like my -mother-," he tells the girl, and then waves to
Lysseth-and-rider before replying to Eugenian himself. "So there's nothing
-there- in the way. Could try it out; see how it goes, and if it doesn't
work out - it's Interval. You can wander off again, given notice, of
course." He shrugs, one-shouldered, and there's that brief smile again.
"Lots of choices. Not scared around dragons, are you?"

Amarie smiles, looking suddenly pleased by I'sai's statement. "Do you
really think so?" Apparently she thinks of it as a compliment.

Cantaneth rumblecroons to Lysseth as the green wings in for a landing, his
eyes whirling with the deep blues of intense interest as he watches just
how she places wing, tail, and legs. J'len smiles up at Kassima as she
dismounts, timing his salute for when she's gotten her feet under her.
"Good evening, Wingleader." He can't hide his smirk at Eugenian actually
being offered a position at Telgar. But after a moment of thought he just
nods to himself as if finially piecing together the odd hint.

Eugenian lifts his chin slightly at Amarie's assessment of his age.
Sniffling slightly, he shakes his head, "No, not scared. Although, I think
I'd make a pest of myself with all my questions." He clasps his hands
behind his back. "Still. I'd have to think about it....I hadn't really
considered it, truth be told." He nods his head politely to the Wingleader
as she arrives, a glance given towards J'len as well, a moment to assess
the weyrling as his new lifemate while he's trying to avoid being saddled
with responsibility.

Kassima aims a casual, almost insouciant salute in exchange for the wave,
as Lysseth rumbles once likewise to the waver and again to Cantaneth.
"That," her rider warns Amarie with a fleeting grin, "is probably nay a
compliment. Probably. Heyla, J'len--" This time, the salute she gives is
rather more crisp; Eugenian is spared any salute at all, and given a
friendly nod instead. She asks J'len in a low voice, since he's watching
the conversation too, "What have I come in on?"

Akadi wakes up from a brief nap

I'sai shrugs yet again, "They are too - pests - or should be. What's one
more?" There's that grin, bright and sharp. "And you can find out 'most
everything you want to know so that, if someone tries sniffing you over for
Search the way they did your sister, you'll know whether to run, and where,
and how fast." He adds to said sister, darkly, "And yes." - "Anyway.
Eugenian. Think about it, and let me know. Meanwhile, we've got class
coming up." And with that, he starts to turn away.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth mentions OOCly here, 'cause
it's easier than mp - I misposted the class time, it should've been 10:30
ET instead of 9:30. My bad. Anyway, for all of you who relied on it, we can
start now (heading over to the lakeshore, after Ys' pose); if this is hard
on you, you can ditch and come back in an hour, and we'll take care of
those people then. Let me know what you'd like to do, please, here (pro
tgwl=msg) or in page.

Kassima is distracted: she looks over at that magical C-word. "Is this
one," she calls to the Weyrlingmaster, "that spectators wouldn't disrupt?"

Dragon> Cantaneth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << I'm good either way.
Would stick around for both runs in any case. >>

Eugenian nods quickly, "Yessir, I will definitely let you know. I'll have
to talk to my..uh..." Straightening his shoulders, he changes direction mid
sentence, "Uh..my friends back home." Conflict is clearly written on his
face as he considers this option freshly opened to him, falling silent for
once.

Dragon> Leonneth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << I don't mind joining up
now. Might be a little slo >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Daikoth has to run this week, but will
make sure to take her own car so she can come back in an hour.

Dragon> Daikoth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Hour-ish. It's debatable. >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Volath OOCly may be slow either way,
but can participate however. OK, now I have this vision of Daikoth driving
a car.

I'sai's teeth flash, "Not if they don't cat-call and make bets as to who
falls off first, Kassi. Groundriding. Although I'll warn you now, mentors
at the very least may be put to good use." He looks over his shoulder then,
says to Eugenian, "You do that," and mutters some more about bloody
-leather-, and where the shell can someone stick an awl so it's that lost,
anyway.

Yselle comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sarevith OOCly is good to join now as
well, if desired, or can wait.

Kharoth lumbers into the central bowl area from the lake shore to the north.

Dragon> Taralyth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Thanks. That's enough
that we might as well start in now; this isn't a big lecture class, so
we'll just get going, and you can have fun later, and I'll be available for
those who need code work. While I'll probably have an idle in the midst of
the scene too, Ys'll cover. (Go Ys!) >>

Teyal slides down from Kharoth's neck, stepping on his foreleg, and hopping
to the ground.

Dragon> Dianneth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << So guys, please don't
wait on pose order for this scene, OK? Just jump on in. :) Scene gets done
if we just keep up the pace :) >>

"Would I ever do such a thing?" Kassi demands, all large eyes and wounded
innocence. Which is followed up by a perfectly audible mutter of, "Where
they could *hear* me and skew the results? Methinks I can handle being
useful. 'Twill be there." And she permits herself an anticipatory grin that
shows at least as many teeth; her eyes flick back towards Eugenian and
Amarie, though, with curiosity not yet sated.

Kharoth rumbles a soft greeting to the dragons nearby, then heads back
toward the lake after a pat on the foreleg from Teyal.

Kharoth lumbers in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the
central bowl area of the Weyr.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth glitters a summons to those
awake, those about, whose who want to _ride_: he envisions the lakeshore,
lifemates, no more, underscored by an electric blue sense of urgency - 
<< Now. >>

Teyal holds out her arm to Akadi, who flies over to her shoulder, and wraps
her tail securely around her neck.

Amarie says aside to Eugenian as an aside, "You could stay here you know,"
She smiles at him. "You're quite familiar with this place after visiting
all the time and it is a good offer for a job.." She suggests helpfully.
"Mum would be proud and Dad..well he'd just be glad you got a job."

Yselle marches out of the barracks with the peculiar look of someone who's
expecting to be followed although, seems not to be just now. She pauses,
walks up to I'sai, salutes him crisply, and says "Weyrlingmaster, they'll
be out shortly, or at least they /will/ if they intend to ride their
lifemates today." Nary a smile on her face today. "Dianneth will be along."

Teyal stretches, mumbling something about cold spring lakes, and glances
over at the nearby group curiously.

J'len responds to Kassima in the same low voice, "Eugenian getting offered
a place at Telgar by I'sai." He half-smirks to show his view on that
without saying anything aloud. But I'sai's mention of class makes him all
business. And Cantaneth, also, as the bronze rises to his feet and bugles
insistently to J'len. He salutes Yselle as she arrives and then waves to
Amarie and Eugenian. "Time for lessons. I'll see you later, Amarie!"

I'sai's not 'Is' today, apparently. "Thanks, Ys," he says, nods briefly all
'round - beckons to the weyrlings, mentioning to others, "Like I said, no
cat-calling, but you can watch if you want," - and gimps across the bowl.
Now he's muttering, as a change of pace, about bloody dragons who can't be
bothered to fly over so he doesn't have to -walk-.

I'sai heads in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central
bowl area of the Weyr.

J'len heads in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central
bowl area of the Weyr.

Cantaneth lumbers in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the
central bowl area of the Weyr.

Eugenian stares at Amarie for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the
others nearby eventually, then back again to his sister. "Yes...I suppose
that's true enough. I'll think on it.." The promise of a class draws his
attention curiously, conflicting his desire to retreat. So he stays put.

Yselle heads in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central
bowl area of the Weyr.

Sarevith comes out of the weyrling barracks.

T'bay comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Claret comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Avrieth comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Kassima's head and Lysseth's both turn towards the Lake Shore in perfect
synchrony. "Sounds like a cue. C'mon, Lyss; I can't be expected t'be useful
*without* you--" Lysseth's rumble would suggest she concurs with *that*
statement. Without her stick today, her steps too are uneven, but Lyss
graciously walks beside her rider to be there for her, and likely be the
first to point and laugh should she fall.

You head in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central bowl
area of the Weyr.

Dragon> Dianneth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Don't forget your
dragons! :) >>

Claret heads over from the central bowl.

Lysseth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Tisiath lumbers in from the central bowl.

Avrieth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Dianneth flies in from above.

Lanisa heads over from the central bowl.

Sarevith lumbers in from the central bowl.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cantaneth was reading the part about
pacing out your dragon's size against something IRL. Now I'm trying to
imagine riding my apartment building :P

T'bay heads over from the central bowl.

Kharoth is stretched out near the edge of the lake, resting. He opens his
eyes slowly, not bothering to lift his head, with a distinctly lazy air,
watching the other dragons and weyrlings arrive.

A'tan heads over from the central bowl.

Leonneth lumbers in from the central bowl.

I'sai gives Kharoth the eye, and warns him, "Going to be noisy 'round
here," but he doesn't move to disturb Aerie's wingleader. Not with as many
Turns as he's got.

"Can't say I'm too surprised she did. And yeah, it was good to hear..."
Lani tells T'bay as she comes along with the others. But then she looks
ahead to give a sharp salute, at least until she's nudged in the back by
Tisiath. Well, she'd tried to do a good one anyway.

Kharoth yawns, and shrugs a wing slightly, having slept through more than
one noisy weyrling class in his time.

T'bay approaches at a run, chasing after the far-in-the-lead Sarevith. His
arriving salute, given as he is only panting lightly, hints at morning jogs
taken seriously. "Sure was," he agrees with Lanisa.

"You wake up faster than anyone I've ever met, and complain about it more
than your share," V'lano leans close to Volath's foreshoulder to hiss, the
dragon flinching barely a muscle to send a wingspar shivering in reply. His
neck cranes upward in silent consideration of the larger dragons, even the
sleepy-seeming blue farther 'round the shore; particularly at Dianneth, the
young bronze's eyes shade a deeper green and whirl a bit faster, pleasedly.
His rider, distracted equally by the riders of all these full-grown
dragons, works out salutes in time to each: "Weyrlingmaster, Weyrsecond,
Wingleader."

Dianneth spirals down, showing off, as usual, turning a sommersault mid-air
and much closer to the ground than most dragons would attempt. Satisfied
with her own wonderfulness, she perches herself at the shore, watching her
rider enter, her eyes fixed in place. Yselle, for her part, wanders after,
but not /with/ I'sai, and when she's reached the spot he chooses to end up,
she adopts an 'at ease' posture, allowing him the floor, such as it is. She
nods to V'lano's salute. "Weyrling."

I'sai's characteristic stalk is somewhat limp-impaired, but he does it all
the same, shoulders square and jaw set, starting off before all the pairs
even arrive. "All -right-, you lot. Groundriding." - "No, not you, E'tan;
Marbauth's neck was too patchy this morning, you're going to have to fix
that first." The weyrling grumps and leads his green back towards the
barracks, evidently not having luck with explaining why given how she's
craning a look back over her wings every few steps. "You've been doing
exercises with their necks, their wings, along with the rest - well, the
wings'll have to wait, but now you'll actually get to sit astride like real
riding pairs. Line up, please, two by two; Kassima, as you've the - fortune
- to be mentoring V'lano and Claret, I'll put you to work between 'em,
please. V'lano, in the context of weyrlinghood, she's 'Assistant
Weyrlingmaster' to you. Yselle, I'd like you to illustrate for me;
weyrlings, you follow along. If Dianneth doesn't mind showing off, that
is," and he gives the flashy green a quick grin.

A'tan walks over with the group and offers salutes where they need to be.
He scratches his head as his hair goes in several more directions than it
already is in. He smiles at Lani and the others.

Kassima, shadowed by Lysseth, ambles somewhat unevenly in on the heels of
much of the Weyrling melee. "Even without catcalls?" she murmurs with the
momentary gleam of a grin. But there's are salutes to be returned, and she
does so with a formality fitting the occasion. "Evening, Weyrlings."
Surprise steals across her expression--but not the displeased sort. "Works
for me, Weyrlingmaster," she agrees with an inclination of her head, and
the green pair alters course to find the place indicated.

Claret snaps salutes to all the riders as she follows the rest of the
weyrlings toward the lake. Rubbing excess oil off her hand and onto her
tunic, she shuffles closer to V'lano, Avrieth following with more alacrity,
her eyes whirling with interest.

Dianneth croons at I'sai, ruffling her wings smugly, apparently pleased
with the attention she's suddenly got from him, shooting her a glare,
Yselle mutters, "Oh shut up," then, with a glance at I'sai, "You're making
a friend," that in a sort of exasperated way. She salutes once again, and
walks over to the green, who, in response to Volath's appreciation, even
spreads her wings out to show them off.

T'bay watches Dianneth with rapt attention, he and Sarevith observing the
sommersault with an echoed woah-whuff of admiration on the part of each. It
is a moment of delay on T'bay's part which prompts another nudge from the
brown dragonet, urging his lifemate to join the line while the dragon
flexes his neck muscles via repeated swallows to prove he's prepared.
"Evenin' ma'am, sirs."

Volath, at V'lano's nudging, finds a spot very much like the one I'sai has
instructed, though both dragon and rider pause before really settling into
place to await Kassima's arrival, prepared to reposition at her
requirement. "Apologies," the Lemos youth directs toward I'sai, then bows a
shallow nod to Yselle and corrects himself, "Assistant Weyrlingmaster." The
last set of consonants in the latter word is fumbled a bit - well, it's
kind of a mouthful. Nevertheless the weyrling is suitably abashed-looking
for a moment, anyway. Volath attends more to Avrieth, arching his neck and
spanning out one wing in her direction most invitingly.

Kharoth perks up a bit, watching the greens... oh, and the younglings too,
of course, his head lifting from the sand as he rests, stretched out to his
full length, comfortably out of the way.

Kassima acknowledges V'lano and Volath's consideration with a flashed smile
as she and Lysseth come to rest equidistant between green pair and bronze
pair, with the precision long experience brings. She turns enough to share
that grin with Claret, and permits herself a moment of informality: "This,"
she murmurs to both mentees, "should be fun. Naught else quite like it.
You'll see." Lysseth's tail flicks, the only outward expression of the
amusement that sets eye-facets to gleaming.

J'len and Cantaneth are already in place when the rush comes from the
barracks. Helped that they were halfway there when the call came out. Both
he and his bronze are shuffling from one foot to another, their actions a
mirror of each other as they prepare for this first experience. Since
they've been instructed to line up two-by-two, he and Cantaneth settle in
beside Sarevith and T'bay with a smile to the brown and his rider. "You
ready for this, T'bay?" J'len's voice betrays his own excitement at what
they're about to do.

Lanisa, for her part, settles back in with the others. Just far enough
removed from the Weyrlingmaster and assistant to not draw extra attention
to herself -- just close enough to be able to watch with an unobstructed
view. Course, she doesn't need to work at drawing attention to them,
Tisiath has that well in hand with his head held as high as he can manage
and wings lightly spread. Lani just rolls her eyes at the blue an then
smiles, not able to keep up the serious/attentive expression she'd aimed for.

I'sai announces - it's not a shout, but that light tenor carries even
through the crowd - "First thing, is ask your dragonets to lower to the
ground, especially the base of their neck, and to hold very still." He
glances to Yselle, giving her the cue, before continuing to speak to the
group. "Yes, it's tempting to peek, yes, it's tempting to wiggle, but
you'll get to that. You don't have straps, because I want you to get
adjusted to -feeling- what it's like to ride your dragon without counting
on straps that probably aren't all that great by now anyway. And holding
still - well, let's just say they're a whole lot more flexible than
runners, and a broken leg's going to slow you down for _real_ flying, and
who wants that? Any volunteers? - Yeah, you in the back, very funny. -
Then, get up onto your dragon's neck: low on the neck, right near the body,
between the last ridge of the neck and the first of the back. Take it
-slowly-. Ease on up, nothing flashy, your dragon'll tell you if anything
hurts. Don't fall over the other side. Your dragon'll be distressed when
you do, and nobody likes that." Could it be that simple? He waves to Yselle
- show them the way! - while a nod encourages Kassima and more formal
assistants to wander around and give suggestions of their own.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Leonneth croons sweetly to the other
dragons. <<I may not be as big as all of you but I can carry mine. I will
show you all.>>

Sarevith's eyes whirl with curiousity and eagerness, his gaze flitting
about, though it momentarily settles on the elder sky blue dragon who rests
nearby. He dips his head politely, then stretches out his neck, bugling a
tenor's excited hello. His lifemate T'bay tucks a set of pathetic straps
into his pocket with a grin and a nod to J'len, and his voice squeaks
nervously, "Yep." He clears his throat, tries again, "Well, he's ready. I'm
working on it. Say, how about you go first, after Yselle? I'll watch and,
ah, take pointers."

Dianneth snorts, she is in an excellent mood, and only lowers her wings
slowly, as if to bestow all her loveliness on them for as long as possible.
Just as though she were taking direct orders from I'sai, and Faranth only
knows how such a thing would come about, she sinks low to the ground, much
lower than most of the weyrling dragons, clumsier in their youth, will
achieve. "Right, it'll be easier for you," Yselle calls out, louder now,
"Since your lifemates aren't anywhere near the size of Dianneth, but, try
and grab onto a neckridge, and pull yourself up. Ask for a forelimb if it's
too high and..." and with exaggerated slowness, she ascends Dianneth's
neck. From that vantage, she can wave down at them, and, eschewing dignity,
Dianneth turns her head to wuffle her hair. "Course she knows how to stay
still when I mount."

One of the assistants - where'd she been before? - says from Sarevith's
other side, "T'bay, I heard that." Ominous much? It's right out of harper
lessons, seems like: "No copying anyone other than Yselle up there. Do it
on your own - we'll be watching."

Kassima offers helpful advice of her own: "I've a Wingmate who managed
t'pull a muscle in a most inconvenient and embarrassing place when he was a
Weyrling, trying t'swing up too quick; I really don't recommend it. Unless
you've really always yearned for a humiliating nickname of your very own."
For all her lightness of tone, she watches the mountings keenly--mentees'
most particularly, and Lysseth's gaze is no less shrewd. "Greens have it
easier in that their necks aren't so tall, now or later. But there's less
width, too, so 'tis easier t'overswing. Be careful."

Volath's more than ready to crouch low, V'lano's hand on a foreshoulder
unnecessary to tell the young bronze what to do. "Like I've leaned over
you," the weyrling murmurs, more for his own certainty than for his
lifemate's. An impatient exhalation through the dragon's nostrils is all
provided for reply, and without any further preparations available to
excuse delay - dragon belly flat to the ground, head low, neck well within
reach - the Lemosian butcher's son catches a big breath in his throat and
swings up a leg. Volath's form is perfect. V'lano's is not: he clearly
expects the dragon to be shaped like a runner. Runners don't have wings.
The youth's boot catches a spar with a heavy thud and the mounting attempt
is aborted while the dragon rises slightly and regards his rider with
faintly betrayed green eyes tinged with a dash of pale around the edges.

Claret gives Kassima a bare nod at her comment, looking toward Avrieth with
a trepidation that the dragonet, who is wriggling happily, does not seem to
share. "Hold still," she admonishes. "Or I shan't be able to manage at all,
and will fall off directly." With a last wriggle and rustle of her wings,
Avrieth stills obediently, now torn between craning her neck around to
watch Claret, and inspecting the progress of the other weyrlings. Reaching
her hands to grab a neck ridge, she attempts to heft herself up, rather
than swing, and ends up slithering back down Avrieth's side with a little
thump.

Hardly waiting for the Assistant Weyrlingmaster to demonstrate, R'len eyes
his lifemate with some panic, "I don't think so," he says. "You're /way/
too big. Did you hear what the weyrlingmaster said? We could /fall/, and
you know what they say about broken legs," that of course, brings /his/
attention to I'sai.

T'bay straightens his posture sharply, the picture of school-desk
innocence, though the flush in his cheeks reveal that he's taken the
warning to heart. "Oh good. Overswing, get a sore in a place my mom
wouldn't say out loud. Or roll on your head. You stay real still, okay,
Sarevith?" Cooperatively, the excited brown leans his head forward, tries
to rest it against the ground flat. T'bay pats a few places where the neck
is cart-tall, Sarevith tries to lower them, whuffling low encouragement
even as T'bay blanches at R'len's outcry.

Leonneth narrows her eyes slightly as she looks at each of the larger
dragons who are her siblings. She snorts loudly and then nudges A'tan at
his backside. The young man jumps out of the way thinking he bumped into
his mate, but then realizes that Leonneth has already lowered her head. The
young man takes a deep breath, "Alright. This can be easy. Almost like
getting up on Nepenth. Just a smaller neck right?" He tries to talk himself
into it as he swings a leg over the neck and pats the greens head.

Kassima manages to suppress her wince. Well, most of it. "Your position's
good, Volath--just have t'be careful of the wings, V'lano. They take up a
lot of room." No, really? "Is he all right? --Oof. Nay worries, Claret; the
swing takes practice. Try it again?" As the sound of a brown Weyrling
misjudging the size of his dragon's neck completely and tumbling to a
rear-end landing catches her attention, she adds encouragingly, "You could
both be doing worse."

Does I'sai have eyes in the back of his head? Or the sides? Or what? His
pale gaze swings back to R'len, and he gives the lad a sharp grin, starting
to walk towards the pair. "Just be careful. Very, very careful." Not like
that fallen-off brownling over there, who gets up, rubbing his tailbone and
making quite a lot of faces. At the same time, T'bay's lucky assistant
tells -him-, "I'll say it out loud even if your mother won't. But you can
do it. Just take it easy, slow and easy. Sarevith, let him step on a
foreleg if he needs, he's not -that- heavy."

"Steady!" one of the assistants cautions A'tan. "She's not as strong as
your mother's dragon yet. Just take it slow, easy. Remember to pay
attention to what you feel from her. Is she uncomfortable where your feet
are? Did that climb hurt her? She'll tell you, but you should be able to
/feel/ it through her." Yselle, for her part, watches from her aloft
position, muttering, "Careful," as her gaze settles on the weyrling with
the tailbone.

J'len smiles back at T'bay, "Just keep calm and Sarevith will keep calm.
You'll do great." Then he's all business-at-hand as he turns back to stand
at Cantaneth's left side. "Ok, dearheart..." He lets out a long, slow
breath and brings to mind the image of how the bronze needs to go
belly-down in the sand; neck out straight, forelegs forward, barrel firmly
down in the sand. After a moment where he croons to his soon-to-be rider,
Cantaneth follows the instructions to the letter. "Wonderful. Now keep
still. Your part is done for now. It'll be my job to not fall over." He
steps up to Cantaneth's left foreleg; even with his height, Cantaneth is
just a touch large for him to feel comfortable mounting without the extra
help.

Staying still. Well, that's where Lanisa's trouble will start. And most
likely where it will end as she starts arguing with Tisiath under her
breath, "They wont be able to see us ride -anywhere- if you don't stop
trying to see who's watching, put your head down and let me get up, silly."
But all in good time, the stout little blue finally stops moving long
enough to lower himself as he's suppose too, but with far less grace than
their example. "-Finally.-" Lani teases in an exasperated tone before she
moves to mount. Tisiath manages to hold perfectly still now at least, a
forleg for a boost and it's not terribly long before, a smiling Lani is
carefully settled in place.

T'bay paces back and forth several times to inspect the line of Sarevith's
spread-out neck, delaying the inevitable. "Just like shimmying up a
stripling back at home. I can do this." A low grin, and a flush at the
reference to his weight, Sarevith shaking only slightly with an expression
of laughter. "We can do this." Thus reassured, he reaches up, grasps a
neckridge, puts his considerable upper body strength to good use, and pulls
himself upward, arm-over-arm. Finally, hanging from a neckridge above the
ground, feet pointed downward, cliff-clinging style, he murmurs, "I think I
missed a step somewhere. Yeah, we should probably try that foreleg idea.
Nono! Don't move yet. Not till I get down."

Volath's hurt is strictly temporary. After some soothing pats and caresses
to the bruised spar-joint from an apologetically murmuring V'lano, the pair
are ready for a second attempt. This time, the bronze thoughtfully lowers
his wings as much as he can without stretching them out into the space his
rider needs to stand in. Again, the neck is lowered and the head pushed
toward the ground. "He's good - a little bruise, maybe," V'lano calls over
to Kassima, grinning gladly for the interruption. Lower, for the dragon's
benefit, he adds, "Good thing we're not using those wings today." He puts
firm hands around a neck-ridge, steadies outer foot just above the talons
for a very low step up, and makes a second effort, bending his knee this
time to pull the inner leg close enough to his body to clear the wingspars.
Success! For a moment. Seated between the star-dazzled ridges of his
lifemate's neck, V'lano can beam triumph for only a moment before gravity
starts to nudge him sideways toward the ground. "Erp," he remarks. Volath
keeps his neck low and shifts it slightly the other way, assisting as best
he can in his rider's balancing act.

I'sai eyes R'len all over again, gives him a thumbs-up for no immediately
obvious reason, and as S'fin comes hurrying up, nods him towards J'len. The
bluerider sees the situation in a glance and tells the weyrling, "Slow and
easy. Remember. You have a lot of momentum to work with. You fall, you're
going to fall hard - so don't fall." The skinny man walks to the other side
and adds, "I'll catch if I have to, but -try- not to fall on me." And
through all this, T'bay's assistant offers a hand, make that two, "Need a
push up?"

Avrieth bends her neck a bit further to Claret, giving her a questioning
croon. "It's all right," she supplies readily. "We'll just try again. This
is when it's nice to be smaller, see? And a bit lower," she adds. As Claret
raises her hands to grab her neckridge again, Avrieth swivels her head
abruptly in the opposite direction to survey V'lano and Volath's problems.
"Hey, stop that!" Claret cries, her attempt at swinging up aborted as she
loses her hold. "Stay -still-" she repeats, and taking a deep breath, she
grabs hold and swings herself. Making it up onto Avrieth's neck, this time,
she clutches Avrieth tightly as she tries to steady herself by sliding her
leg over her neck fully.

Laughing, the assistant who's watching A'tan reaches out a hand for
Tisiath. "Hey, I know you're excited, but if you really want her on your
back, you're going to have to settle down," she ways. "Careful he doesn't
move before you've settled yourself, Lanisa. Mind you, it'd make a good
story later in the barracks, but your father might take a broken limb
personally, and /we/ have to work with him."

A'tan keeps his feet firmly planted on the ground as he waits and feels
what Leonneth describes to him. He smiles and nods his head, "Yes it does
feel weird. You aren't very big so its easy to touch the ground." He
scrithes her ridges for a moment, but then flipped over Leonneth's head as
she is anxious and lifts him up without warning.

Kassima offers to no one in particular, "That ridge in front of you can be
handy if'n you do feel unsteady; you can hang onto it, so long as it
doesn't make your dragon uncomfortable. Lyss has certes had t'put up with
me grabbing for it often enough." Lysseth's brief dip of chin might be read
as a nod. She arches her neck to peek over towards the Weyrling pairs all
around her, rumbling a note of approval for this mounting, stifling a laugh
for that--and getting a thump in the shoulder for her trouble. "He probably
won't be the only one bruised a'fore the evening's over," she grins back to
V'lano. "As you might imagine if'n you've ever ridden runners. Looking
good! Sit back against that ridge; clasp with your legs as tight as doesn't
discomfit him. 'Twill help. Almost there, Claret... there. That's the way.
But 'twill take a bit more practice ere she's ready t'mount with you moving
about, Avrieth!"

Yselle sits up straighter on Dianneth's neck, irritably smoothing her hair
down from the green's wuffle. "I said it and I mean it," she mutters under
her breath. "When you feel comfortable on your lifemate's neck, try
adjusting your position a little," she of course does not fall when she
moves about. One would hope not. Meanwhile, the woman keeping an eye on
A'tan and Lanisa says cheerfully "Oh dear, up you get dear," to the
greenling. "Any broken bones? How's that head of yours? Nothing leaking out
your ears?"

I'sai looks all around, listens briefly to a few comments assistants make
and replies just as briefly, then goes on even if everyone hasn't managed
yet. Maybe it'll be incentive. "All -right-. Nice job, Dia, Yselle,
everyone - " well, almost everyone. "Once you're up, and it may take a
couple more tries, it's time to enjoy the view, get comfortable - and once
you feel comfortable, _and only then_, ask your dragonet to rise up to all
four paws. Lads, careful with the neckridge in front of you; like a pommel
on a saddle, hit it the wrong way, it'll hurt. Once you're comfortable
there, you can look around, twist, turn, get used to the view - and how it
feels to you and your dragon for you to be up there. This is the first time
you'll ever be astride your dragon for real, or at least it'd better be.
Remember it if you can - but most importantly, just enjoy it. And don't
fall off." Yes, R'len and A'tan, he's talking to you.

T'bay reverses direction, hand-below-hand until he's on the ground, knees
trembling. "Maybe I'll give it a go with the--Thanks," he murmurs as the
brown extends his foreleg, just touching T'bay with its tip, "The foreleg."
T'bay steps up, pausing to get feedback regarding the placement of his foot
and the distribution of his weight. Methodically, he shifts about, testing
for Sarevith's comfort until he's within reach of the goal-neckridge.
Slowly, he braces, hops upward, and slides back down the dragon's side.
Intently, he tries again, Sarevith crooning, and this time, with an extra
push push push from the assistant, he's up, whitefaced, and sitting very
very still. Pommel, indeed.

A'tan rubs his head for a moment and then chuckles. "Oh I guess you were
really exicted there Leonneth. I wasn't quite ready for that." He gets up
and brushes off his pants before letting the dragonette put her head down.
He moves slowing and brings his leg back over and settles onto her neck a
little holding onto the neckridge like I'sai suggests. Yep, just like
Nepenth just a lot smaller. "There I think that is pretty good. Oh, shift
left a little bit." He moves his body a little, "Ok, yeah. That is better."
he says to the green.

Claret grabs for the neck ridge in front of her, as per Kassima's
instructions, murmuring, "You hear that, Av? Absolutely no wriggling about
or I'll end up in a puddle on the--ooh, stop that!" she breaks off as
Avrieth twists her neck, yet again trying to get a look at her rider. In
the midst of pulling herself more securely onto Avrieth's neck, Claret
starts to slide down the other side, hanging awkwardly for a moment before
Avrieth stills. Crooning apologetically, Avrieth doesn't stop trying to get
a look at Claret, but at least she stops wriggling long enough for her
rider to pull herself into what is more or less a steady perch between two
ridges.

Finally, and with much trepidation, R'len attempts to mount. Things look
really /good/ until the moment he yells, "Yeeha!" and his lifemate,
startled, tosses his head. He slides down the side ignonimously, his foot
caught in the neckridge, so he's teetering about on one foot. "I'm stuck!"
he yells.

V'lano sways one way, then the other as the dragon who is tenuously now his
mount attempts to help keep the rider's center of gravity somewhere
directly over his neck, twisting his head one way and then the other.
Something Kassima says breaks through, and at the apex of one artfully
swaying arc sideways, the butcher's son clasps tight with his thighs,
squeezing his legs around the shape of the young bronze's neck in that
unnatural curvature known only to people who ride large creatures. Volath
exhales a sigh sounding much like relief as his rider steadies, then slowly
upraises his neck just a few feet from ground to rest the muscles holding
it low and test those supporting his rider's weight. Said rider takes this
opportunity to stare around, having missed the best part of T'bay's
predicament and many others. "Hey," he realizes, and lifts a hand to wave
around at his fellows - and just as fast slaps it back down on that
foreward neckridge, not quite ready to go one-handed. "We're up," he breathes.

Cantaneth doesn't move, but the rumble in his chest-barrel is an
encouraging one as J'len carefully places his left foot up on the bronze's
left foreleg, leans forward and reaches up for the last neckridge. "Ok...
are you watching?" The remark is made in a far-away voice and clearly isn't
meant for his lifemate or anyone else present. But right after he breaths
the words, he's up and over in a single, smooth motion. He swings his
leading foot forward, not back as with a runner, to avoid the wingjoint and
spar, and then he's sitting between the last neckridge and the first
backridge. He holds a hand out to calm Cantaneth as the bronze starts to
raise his head then stops again. "Slowly. Carefully. Wait until we're told
it's alright."

"Good job," T'bay's assistant tells him. "Now, take it easy. Remember to
breathe. You turn much whiter, and Faranth never meant you to be that
color, you'll pass out and fall off and that won't be any help..." I'sai's
throat-clearing, after he's reached to help R'len's boot down with less
rolling of the eyes than one might have expected, and heard somehow even
through all this, causes the assistant to continue more reassuringly.
"You're doing fine. Take it easy. Remember to breathe." Even if it's
repetitive. At the same time, J'len's assistant tells him, "That's better,
lad. Tell him to lift on up once you're feeling situated. Up to his paws,
that is. No wings!"

"Doesn't feel that great if'n you're a lass, either," Kassi mutters, lest
any females get too hopeful. "Careful, careful... right," she says with
relief as Claret rights herself. "That's just it. Excellent. *Very* good,
V'lano, Volath! Looks as if'n you're ready for him t'stand, slowly. Uh-oh,"
is her response to R'len's plight, once Lysseth's farther-seeing eyes have
made it known to her. "...Well. Don't do *that*."

Leonneth twists her head and bugles at her lifemate with much excitement.
She has to show those bigger ones that she can do this too. As A'tan tries
to settle himself in he slides a little bit to the side, but the green
shuffles a little bit to try to help out and turns her head to try to see
him. The young man chuckles, "I think it would work better if I try to keep
my balance. We seem to work in opposite directions and I'll fall off again.
We don't want that dear."

Dianneth, after some smug rumbling to remind the weyrlings just /where/
they're supposed to look, ever so slowly begins to straighten her legs
until she's standing upright - and still Yselle does not fall. She moves
with the muscles of her lifemate, as if they were one and the same.
Meanwhile, with a laugh, the assistant near A'tan reaches over to Leonneth
to offer a steadying hand. "Now dear," she says to the dragon. "Did you
feel how much that hurt him? Be very very still. Feel him with you, adjust
your weight so when he moves, you support him, and A'tan," with a blinking
smile, "how does that feel? Wriggle about a bit, make sure you won't fall
again. Dear me, I remember when we did this. Out in the snow, I remember
dear F'liss, he broke his nose, and didn't he yelp when the healer set it
again... not that that will happen to /you/ of course dear, did make a
weird snoring nose after that though."

"Yes, ma'am." Lani manages, somehow containing an eye roll for once, that
might normally go with the suggestion of her da taking it personally if she
brakes a bone. Be it likely or not, the suggestion is enough she takes a
slow breath and just stops herself from looking his way. "Okay Tisiath. You
heard him, just careful like." Then murmured after, "I wont fall, but if
you can keep from bouncing, that'd be nice, eh?" The blue rumbles, mostly
to himself for once and then gets back to his feet. Bit by bit, and still
none to graceful, while Lani concentrates on keeping her position the whole
time. -- But so far, so good.

I'sai calls out, Taralyth enhancing the instruction dragon-to-dragons
through the chaos, "When you're comfortable moving around - assuming you're
even up at all - and you've gotten used to the idea and so has your dragon,
encourage your dragon to take a few steps. Just a few steps. Slow and easy.
No bounding." He eyes certain of the blues in particular. "If you look like
you're about to run into something, lake and us included, _stop_. Don't
turn. _Stop_."

"Lala look at you," the overcheery assistant turns back to Lanisa. "I
remember when you were just a little thing, still in your mother's arms. We
all said in those days that your father had a way about him, don't mind
telling you I thought he was quite dishy, and now there you are, on top of
your very own lifemate. Well, doesn't time fly, yes, Tisiath dear, nice and
gentle, she's such a sweet girl."

A'tan smiles at the assistant and nods, "Yes that feels better. I fit right
in between the ridges. It kind of locks me in nice and snug." He pats
Leonneth a little bit and feels himself rise up enough so his feet aren't
touching. The smile on his face grows so large, "This is great Leonneth.
You are doing so good. Just go slow. I don't want you to get hurt." The
young man holds on tightly and shifts just a little to make sure he won't
fall again.

T'bay takes a few deep and slow breaths, steadying himself. "Now that I'm
up, it's pretty good. Just that getting up here part that is hard." He
shifts a little side to side, quiet communication with his lifemate, who is
uncharacteristically still, as if he holds his breath as well, Indeed, a
great exhalation casts up sand as Sarevith relaxes as well for a long
moment. He looks around at his fellows, grins stupidly. "We're
dragonriders!" Sarevith decides that's enough procrastinating, and
commences the tightening of his neck muscles, slowly, slowly raising his
head, causing T'bay to hold on tight, grasping at neckridges before
remembering to be sure he's not hurting the dragonet.

Volath registers permission almost as fast as his rider does, such that
when he begins rising up - straightening forelegs first and getting his
limbs beneath him, making an ocean-wavy ride of it as the back end catches
up - V'lano stammers, "Hey, hey, I didn't say ready!" His hands clasp that
foreward neckridge for dear life, knuckles whitening, but the young dragon
only continues up. Now that the motion is smooth, the rider relaxes a bit
and very nearly startles himself out of the seat at /not/ sliding sideways.
His legs tighten in again, then loosen from the knee down, letting the
thighs do most of the gripping. Standing tall, Volath decides this is
appropriate time for celebration, and makes his most triumphant
vocalisation since hatching: a low bugle, rising toward the end, pure 'ta-da!'

Guess what? T'bay's assistant actually applauds, looking pretty gratified.
"You survived! I'm so proud!"

Claret holds herself as still as she can for a moment, knuckles white
around Avrieth's neck ridge as she assures herself that she's secure, and
won't go tipping off balance. "Right then. You can rise, now, Avrieth," she
informs her out loud, trying to envision a picture where the dragonet does
so and she remains steady. And as it happens, the picture isn't too far
from truth, as Avrieth starts to unbend her legs slowly. But as she
finishes stretching out, she gives her wings a proud little rustle,
rumbling happily and startling Claret into another, if smaller slide toward
her side. Pulling herself back up yet again, she admonishes, "Stop that!
I'm very pleased with you for holding me up too, but I won't stay for long,
you know, if you wiggle."

"Why I remember when you were first born," the cheery assistant gushes to
Lanisa. "-Oh that's wonderful A'tan, you're really getting the idea now.
Just take it slowly, don't bump that cute little head of yours. Doesn't it
feel wonderful to be on top of her, finally? And how's your poor head? It
still /seems/ to be the right shape."

One of the young brownriders - Doralle, the lanky girl who used to be a
harper - sits neatly astride her Cerdath as if she'd been doing it all her
life. Cerdath takes several neat steps forward, and Doralle just couldn't
look more smug. Showoff.

A'tan sits still as he holds tightly to the neckridges. He seems to have
stopped breathing, but finally lets out a breath. "Yes, yes. I know to hold
on. You just need to make sure you are alright." he speaks outloud to the
green. Leonneth raises her head higher as her eyes whirl brightly. The
young man nods to the assistant, "My head is good thanks." He then chuckles
softly, "Oh Leonneth, I knew you could lift me up. I didn't doubt that." he
pauses, "Oh you want the others to see that you are strong too. I
understand. Just don't hurt yourself."

Kassima calls to V'lano, "Relax! Move with him if'n you can; he'll do his
best nay t'unseat you--" She doesn't say anything aloud at the successful
ascent, but only beams, pleased as pie. Lysseth hums a brief, approving
note: not bad, kid. "Keep that in mind about moving with him when he's
ready t'step, too. Try and be in tune with what he's doing, if'n you
can...." Her attention's pulled to Avrieth and her rider then, and again
that beam flashes bright and broad. "Magnificent. She's right, though,
Avrieth. You can move soon--when she says she's ready!--but nay wiggling
then either, hey? Because if'n she falls on her rump, you're likely t'feel
it too. Most undignified."

Cantaneth waits just a breath to get the go-ahead from his rider. Then he
puts all those morning workouts to work as he mimics the motion the
weyrlings do with their push-ups and rises until he's standing at full
height on all fours. As his bronze rises up, J'len keeps a firm grip on his
neck with his legs, making sure to listen to be sure he's not holding on
too tight for Cantaneth's comfort. Once he's up, Cantaneth turns his head
to look back at J'len, his true rider now, and blows out a breath to ruffle
J'len's hair. "You're doing great, Cantaneth! Absolutely perfect!" J'len's
voice is full of pride for his bronze, but there is a moisture in his eyes
that isn't due to the success of the lessoning. "Now let's walk. Remember.
Stay slow and careful. First we walk... then later, when you're bigger and
stronger, we fly!" The bronze concurs with a bugle and turns his head
forward again to take a few slow, stately steps forward.

"No bounding Tisi. You heard him that goes for you too. Bound later, eh?"
Lani does glance then, but as she hears the assistant she proves she can
easily flush brighter than her hair -- Not that it's -that- bright in the
first place. "Yes ma'am. If you says so ma'am." That likely for 'dishy'
judging from her long suffering expression, "And here I am, yes, ma'am."
When in doubt, more ma'am's. Either that or she's reminding herself not to
say anything she'll regret. Not just now, at least. "When I was born, yes,
ma'am." She half hisses to Tisiath then, "Just please, let's go." As in,
anywhere but here?

Sarevith, not to be outdone, shows off rigid neck muscles as they work to
carry his neck, and his rider, upward. Ripples cross his haunches, brown
waves of desert shifting the relatively tiny shaking speck on his neck to
and fro. Thighs accustomed to clinging to trees keep him seated steadily,
T'bay even manages a grin to the assistant on the ground below, "So far.
It's getting down I'm not looking forward to, at all. Wow, you can really
see across the lake from up here. Ohh, hey Dora! Good show!" Without
waiting for a go-ahead, Sarevith decides it is walking-time, now please,
and he steps forward excitedly, lacking grace but making up for it with
enthusiasm, and bobbling his rider all about.

And J'len's assistant, watching, shuts up long enough to watch the bronze
step - and step - and once he's gotten far enough, calls, "Stop, now! No
running into the lake!" A few breaths later, T'bay's does the same, only
T'bay's is applauding some more, and at the boy's compliment, even Doralle
can be troubled to smile and wave encouragingly to the lesser beings.

I'sai lectures, "When you've had a chance to step forward a few steps - and
no, they shouldn't be this awkward in flight, they're not _meant_ for
walking everywhere with those big hind legs and little forelegs of theirs -
it's time to dismount. Just the reverse of before. Slow and easy, dragon
crouching first and letting you get down. Yeah, crouching isn't always
necessary, for you greens in particular, but I want you to set good habits.
After this, you'll be practicing on your own and in a group. Careful not to
overdo - don't strain your dragon, report any injuries to the weyrling
staff - _any at all_ - you might have to run some extra laps, but that's
better than a worse injury. And when you're done for tonight, definitely
check your dragon once they're finished working, checking for anything
swollen or dislocated or just not how it's supposed to be. Have any
questions after that - find me or one of my amazing and lovely assistants,
like S'fin." The bluerider grimaces, but seems used to it, not like he had
a clutch ago. "Those of you with mentors present, be sure to thank them
afterward; they have my thanks as well."

Kassima spies out the triumphant Doralle and gestures towards her. "Like
that," she suggests to V'lano and Claret both. "That's how it should be.
Except, y'know... nay quite so smug, unless you really want t'find the muck
from your couch moved t'your pillow some night. Just a suggestion."

Claret's attention is all too consumed with trying to keep herself from any
of the aforementioned undignified meetings with the ground, for her to
notice the progress of the weyrlings around her. Apparently it's not beyond
Avrieth, however, who does her best to turn her head for inspections
without unseating her rider. "Don't tell me how to stay on, Avri," Claret
mutters mutinously. "I'd be just fine if you wouldn't move." Wrinkling her
nose at the thought of muck under her pillow, Claret makes sure her hold on
the ridge on front of her is firm before taking another deep breath. "Okay,
you can move forward. But listen to what she said--no wiggling!" Crooning
with pleased assent, Avrieth takes one step forward, and then another,
before taking several more in a quicker stride.

A'tan mumbles to himself, "Bounding? I'm not sure bounding is an option
right now dear." The young man grabs again as Leonneth takes a few quick
steps forward. She is determined to make big foot prints on the beach. See
they are better because she is carrying her lifemate. A'tan shakes his head
as he tightens his legs to hold himself up. He is going to have to have a
chat with the green ball of energy. He leans back slightly as she wobbles
him to and fro. He can't even describe how it feels or even if it is
correct, but she doesn't complain of pain just happiness. "Alright Leonneth
we've made prints. Time to stop here. We have to practice my getting off to
you know. I can't sleep up here."

Flight is on several minds today - not V'lano's, as the butcher-no-more's
attention is half on staying aseat and half on attending to his mentor's
carefully humorous tutoring. Volath, however, has arched the majority of
his neck sideways and up, eyeing the sky above through one darkly whorling
eye of sudden midnight blue. He tilts his head the other way to change the
view, then points his muzzle straight upward. Unbidden, glimmering wings
span wide, spars stretching out sails to catch the lakeshore breeze. Lost
in his skyward daydream, it takes several nudges and pokes to that
pommel-servicing neckridge for V'lano to acquire his mount's attention:
"Want to walk, Volath? Volath?" The bronze shivers and arches his neck back
to eyeball his rider, then takes a single, pouty step forward, letting his
forepaw land thuddily with a scrawl of talons on the shore. There, took a
step. Can we go up yet?

T'bay holds on through the juggling about, though a particular wince as he
jars against the forward neckridge brings both rider and dragon to a halt.
"Ow," squeaks the baker's boy, blackness causing him to miss comments while
he recovers. A few moments of apologetic head-lowering nearly unseat T'bay
in the same manner as A'tan, and he tugs at neckridges intently until Sar
raises his head again. Moving much more slowly now, Sarevith continues one
careful step after another, pausing every other or so to croon or bugle
encouragement or admiration toward the other practicing pairs.

That assistant of T'bay's -tries- not to laugh, and it turns out more like
a choking noise. "Take your time, lad. Take your time. Good job. Slow and
steady. Good job." Cerdath rumbles proudly back, and even starts to turn
around and go the other way, until -his- assistant reins him in.

Kassima claps her hands once Avrieth's taken those steps, half-applause,
half try for attention. "Wonderful, wonderful, but methinks that may be
steps enough! Fantastic job. Claret, how're you feeling? Ready for the
dismount, or d'you want a moment t'savor?" She keeps an eye--well, two:
Lysseth's attention remains turned that way--on the green pair as she turns
to watch the bronze, her brows lowering into a slight furrow. "The sky,"
she says to the bronze, "comes later, and later yet if'n you don't follow
the directions now, if'n you get me. Walk a'fore you fly, get V'lano used
t'sitting on you. Else you're just asking him t'fall off when you *do* fly,
y'know that? I don't think you'd enjoy that much. Nor would he. Nor I."

"You were such a pretty little thing," Lanisa's assistant muses, smiling
benignly on the girl, "I don't know why you stopped wearing those gorgeous
little dresses. - Careful, slowly - one day... oh I'll never forget it,
bows /all/ through your hair, everyone said you looked just like the eldest
daughter of a lady holder. I just wanted to pick you up and pinch your cute
little cheeks."

I'sai's sharp eyes swing to Volath nigh-instantaneously once his wings
widen - but with his mentor on hand, and taking care of it, he doesn't say
a word... although there's a sudden electric ripple through the aether,
brushing by even the other dragons, that is Taralyth's own understanding -
and warning.

Amidst all this reminiscing, another assistant approaches A'tan, he glances
at the woman torturing Lanisa, and aims a disgusted look I'sai's way, as if
to say 'where'd you dig /her/ up?' "How're you doing A'tan?" he asks.
"Getting sore yet? It takes a bit of getting used to, and you know man," in
a lower tone, "Best to keep yourself intact."

Yselle watches all of this from Dianneth's back. The green, bored now,
leans her head /over/ another weyrling dragon to sniff at Volath, and make
a nudging movement with her nuzzle as if to say 'back down'. Yselle leans
forward, lying now against green hide.

I'sai just shrugs at that disgruntled assistant, with a brilliant,
full-of-teeth smile; even if he hadn't been listening to the woman, likely
he'd guessed - and a weyrlingmaster's got to have -some- entertainment,
after all.

Claret wobbles slightly but holds her seat, paling slightly as Avrieth's
movement quickens. "That's quite enough, thanks Avri," Claret says, prying
a few fingers loose to give her neck an assuring pat. "You moved
wonderfully." Attention drawn by Kassima's claps, Claret looks over with a
swallow, giving a small smile. "Good. I mean, I feel fine. A little
wobbly," she specifies, pointing to her stomach. "But I think I'm ready to
get down. Thank you, m--I mean, Wingleader," she hastily corrects before
leaning forward slightly and addressing Avrieth. "You can crouch down, now,
so I can get off. And yes, I'll be careful, only lower slowly, and don't
wiggle! Or I'll slide to the ground and that will hurt rather more."

J'len pats Cantaneth's neck as the bronze comes to a stop after walking a
full length. He doesn't seem ready to dismount just yet, though, and
settles into his seat on his dragon's neck looking out over the waters.
Cantaneth looks back at his rider, a touch of yellow joining the blues in
his eyes. J'len gives the bronze another pat, this one reassuring as he
backs it up with a silent coloquy with his lifemate. What he says must
settle the issue as Cantaneth's croon isn't upset but comforting. The pair
both look over as the ripple of warning comes from Taralyth, then J'len
decides it's best to climb down and Cantaneth reverses his movements of
before until he's leaning down far enough for J'len to swing his right leg
forward over the bronze's neck and slide down to the sand, landing in an
easy crouch before turning around and clasping his arms around Cantaneth's
neck, full of praise for his dragon's performance.

Lanisa groans. Just -groans-. At length she forces out though a miserable
excuse for a smile, "Sorry ma'am. Burned them. Not even fit for rags." And
she might have too, judging from her expression. "Tisi, -please-" Never a
good thing when Lani has to resort to begging. Get the feeling if the blue
was a runner he'd be getting one solid *thump* in the ribs about now to get
him running? Needless to say, he needs no excuse to get himself moving, so
moving he is. Maybe, just maybe Lani will be lucky enough they can leave
the assistant behind? Maybe...

A'tan chuckles and nods to the man. "Yes I know sir. Its hard to try to
explain that to a dragon though. If you know what I mean." He pats Leonneth
once again to show her he meant it when its time to stop. "Come on now
Leonneth. Lower down." He waits patiently as she snorts and opens her dark
wings up for a moment for balance. She finally lowers her head and A'tan
lets his feet touch the ground. He holds on to steady himself as he steps
into a wet spot and blanches, "Great wet shoes too." He brings his leg up
and shakes his head, "No you didn't do anything wrong. Just some water."

The young bronze keeps his wings spread, but tucks the spars just a little
- cowed adequately by the direct admonishment from Taralyth, he
nevertheless is defiant enough to keep his sails unfurled enough to savor
the breeze. Another step is made, with careful backward glance to ascertain
the steadiness of his rider; then another. V'lano, relaxing as the task of
walking proves enough to just barely contain his mount's desires for now,
breathes. "Thank you," he murmurs to the dragon, then shoots a belatedly
grateful grimace toward I'sai. "Yes, I'm slowing you down," he goes on for
Volath's benefit. "But this is how it's taught. Look up if you like - " And
pausing, one forelimb raised for a dainty next step to the mucky sand near
the lapping water, the young dragon does so. "But keep your wings to
yourself for now!"

I'sai calls over to A'tan, "Looks as though you've about had it - head on
over to the barracks and clean up, check her all over. There'll be plenty
of more practice tomorrow if she's up to it. Nearing time for everyone else
to wind up, too." His nod to V'lano is brief, not drawing more attention to
that pair than necessary, though pale eyes glint on those unfurled sails.

Sarevith shudders, half stretching his wings out, then drawing of them back
to his side, heeding the directions of Taralyth, though it may be more for
fear of dropping his rider on his head than intimidation. "That's right.
Whatever it takes to keep you right here," agrees T'bay, patting the
dragon's neck. "Besides, we've a bit of work to do before we're ready for
that." Sare stretches his neck about, regarding his lifemate with an
unblinking stare of slowly whirling blue, causing T'bay to stretch
carefully to give his closest headknob a brief scratch before he aims to
regain his balance, the moment of sharing finished as the moment of
dismounting approaches.

No such luck, Lanisa's assistant charges after her, "What a shame," she
says. "I always liked you in a dress, especially a pink one. How will you
ever get yourself a weyrmate dear, if you don't wear a dress? Now I've
heard rumours about you and that M'tri, but dear, you're a rider now and
you've got to show everyone what a lovely little figure you're growing."

Kassima's nod to Claret is an understanding one. "Takes some getting used
to," she offers. "Just like the mounting. 'Tis one of those things that
will get better every time you do it. Be careful now, aye? Both of you.
Avrieth, the less you wiggle now, the faster she can dismount, and the
sooner you can be free t'look about and wriggle all your heart desires." A
fleeting grin follows that; she adds, "You're welcome," and looks to Volath
again. "Good," she says to dragon and rider. "That's fine. Though walking's
apt t'be easier with wings furled, for future reference's sake. You can
stop walking now--how about you, V'lano, are you set t'come down?"

A'tan salutes to I'sai and nods. "She thinks that she has to outdo everyone
else right now. Thank you sir for all your help." He pats Leonneth and
smiles. "See it wasn't that bad and you did just as good as everyone else
did." He makes his way past the group slowly as Leonneth lumbers towards
the barracks. He salutes all those in his path that need saluting before
moving into the home he shares with the others.

"Welcome, A'tan. Leonneth." Once he's seen them off, I'sai continues to
walk through the pairs - giving T'bay an approving nod, given his
conversation with Sarevith, and then J'len; Taralyth must have seen that
reassurance, even if he himself hadn't. Once he's reached Lanisa's
assistant, though, he says briefly, "Save it till after graduation." And
although he moves on without looking at her again, and although his words
are simple - that cool tone is unmistakable.

"I don't doubt it," V'lano mutters good-naturedly, and reaches out - brave
enough now to take a hand off of that foreward ridge - to stroke the
dappled neck beneath him. The young rider pauses then and, after a moment's
concentration, wins assent from Volath that the ride is over. The upraised
forelimb drops to place and the dragon bends low, curving his neck around
to avoid putting his muzzle into the damp sand right in front of him. A low
whuff escapes flared nostrils, his eyes whirling rather quickly as V'lano
struggles and finally slips off of the crouched bronze, but slow strokes at
muzzle and rubs behind the headknobs soothe those eyes to a slower spin of
green. "All right, sweet friend. I'm on the ground again. Would you like
some oiling? A nice snack?" No, say those moody eyes, the great head
tilting sideways. Volath would prefer to gaze mournfully at the sky, thank
you.

Avrieth follows her duplicate instructions, lowering herself closer to the
ground at a fairly steady pace. That being done, Claret looks down,
shifting her hold on Avrieth's neck ridge in preparation for swinging down.
Nodding toward Kassima, Claret addresses Avrieth pragmatically. "See?
That's sensible. You can have a wrigglefest in a minute." Cautiously, she
starts drawing one leg back over Avrieth's side, holding herself up with
her hands as long as she can before slithering to the ground in an awkward
motion, landing with a thump and an "Oof."

T'bay returns a smile for the Weyrlingmaster as he passes, then swallows
hard and blanches once more as Sarevith slips back downward toward the
ground, extending his foreleg to 'catch' should that be needed. "Hoo boy,"
he murmurs, readjusting his position. Swinging one leg over the dragonet's
neck, he positions himself in an imitation of what he's seen the
experienced riders do, and all is well, a smooth slide downward bringing
the slowly getting fit youth down down down over hide, over foreleg, and
feet first, into the sand, where he continues his downward momentum until
he's on his knees, then chin-into-sand. "Ptooie," he spits, rubbing his
lightly bruised chin, triumphantly, "Made it!"

Lanisa might have wimpered in frustration, only she's clearly determined
not to. Not her style anyway. "Pink clashes with my hair." Well, maybe not,
but it's the best she can do without saying what she might really want too,
"And I don't need a dress. Doesn't go well with mucking and chores, ma'am."
She reminds, chin lifting a little as she tries ignoring now. Maybe that
will work? Or maybe it doesn't have to? At least this time... Tisiath at
least seems to flourish under the attention his rider is getting. No such
thing as bad publicity?

Kassima and Lysseth have switched focuses: it's the dragon who watches
V'lano dismount, and the dragon who lets her approval be known in a low
rumble once the Weyrling is safely on terra firma. She has no chide for
mourning the sky... not so long as those wings stay in place. "He's an
impatient one," her rider comments to V'lano in a low voice, a thread of
rueful amusement running under it. "Most young ones are, somewhat, but.
Does he feel well; hasn't strained aught? Nay sore muscles or bangings
beyond the bruised wing?" Returning her eyes to Avrieth and her rider,
she's evidently pleased enough with what she witnesses. "Grace can wait,"
she promises, "and you'll have plenty of time t'practice. Trust me. Both of
you did most well--be sure though t'be checking her for the strains too,
ere she gets too much wiggling underway."

Some of the assistants and the odd mentor stay in place, helping their
weyrlings out; as for I'sai, at S'fin's muttered comment, he herds a few
pairs towards the barracks with a last wave.

Since the weyrlings are doing a good job of dismounting themselves, Yselle
slides down in a more flashy, uncontrolled manner than that in which she
went up. She reaches to scritch Dianneth's eyeridge and begins to walk back
through the class, offering Lanisa a sympathetic grin. The assistant who
was so chatty takes one look at the Weyrlingmaster and says "Oh well, more
of that later," in a hurried manner and runs off. "Seems to have gone off
with a minimum of injuries," Yselle mentions as she walks past I'sai.
"Aside from the few excitable ones, they seem to be doing well."

"Hope it stays that way," I'sai agrees before he heads on off, just slow
enough to not be chasing that chatty assistant. She's learned. For now.

I'sai heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

"He's in love with the sky," V'lano replies, stroking the length of the
star-kissed neck as Volath raises his head and lumbers to his full height
with a low whuf of irritation. The eyes stay green, though, and not too
much of the stroking coaxes the young bronze to begin following his
lifemate toward the bowl, pausing nearest Lysseth. "I can't feel any hurts
but the elb - er, wing," the butcher's son reports, putting his hand across
himself to cradle the other elbow with an unconscious grin. "I'll heat and
cool it and oil it a little specially, and he should be fine." Volath, for
his own part, ducks his head more or less humbly to the Wingleader's green,
though the effect would be more appropriate if he wouldn't cant his head
sideways a bit to peer at her shape backdropped by the - yes, of course, sky.

Yselle snorts, and walks off in a different direction - not to the barracks
at all. There are still enough assistants about to watch the weyrlings, and
Dianneth stays, sulking now that her rider has left her.

Yselle heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

J'len and Cantaneth settle down onto the sand, Cantaneth pushing sand aside
for a wallow and J'len kneeling down on the pile of sand so he can run his
hands over the bronze's neck and shoulder; checking for soreness and strain
as instructed by the weyrlingmaster staff.

Sarevith blossoms at the murmured praises he overhears, raising himself up
and stretching out his wings, puffing up his barrel chest. T'bay climbs to
his feet, brushing off sand from his trousers, shirt, and even his face.
"Maybe some fresh water would be good," he explains, heading back toward
the bowl as well. "Then we'll look over you for hurts, Sare. Night, J'len,
well done there, and night, Dianneth. Thanks for teaching us. That was an
amazing experience." He blows her a brazen little kiss on his way past,
Sarevith making sounds something like clucking which turns out to be the
clacking of his teeth in admiration and maybe a hint of jealousy.

Claret regains her footing, leaning a hand against Avrieth to help steady
herself. "You did brilliantly, Avrieth. And I'll have a look all over you
once we get back to the barracks." Crooning happily, Avrieth now takes the
opportunity to wriggle freely, swiveling her head to whuffle at Claret's
hair, and then back to have a look at her clutchmates. "Thanks," Claret
replies to Kassima, a bright smile gracing her features. "And I'll be sure
to check and see if she's hurt anywhere. Oh, and thank you for being here
to help!" she adds, dutifully in accordance with I'sai's instructions
though she doesn't look at all insincere about it. Starting back toward the
barracks she offers a parting salute for Kassima, and a little wave for
those she passes, Avrieth ambling along happily behind her.

Sarevith lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

T'bay heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

"The sky's arguably the truest mate any dragon has," Kassima says, favoring
the constellations above with a long look of her own. "There's a time and
there's a place, is all. If'n it aches, a little numbweed might be in
order--but let the Weyrlingmasters know if'n it doesn't fade soon. You both
did well tonight. Lyss and I will likely be available from time t'time,"
and she turns to address this towards Claret too, "if'n you should need or
want someone t'practice with, though I suspect you'd do fine on your own."
The tilt of Lysseth's slender head, the arch of her neck, say much about
her recognition of the actual focus of Volath's regard--and how it amuses
her. "Always welcome," the rider assures to Claret with a smile right back.
"Completely m'pleasure. G'night t'you!" The salute is returned, briskly.

Lanisa manages getting down with far less fuss than she had getting up.
Even if Tisiath dances some again. But rather than look at -anyone- else,
she too is moving to check over her lifemate for strain. And the blue,
well, he doesn't mind that, not since it means he can be fussed over all
the more.

Claret heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Avrieth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Amarie heads over from the central bowl.

"I'm flattered you think so," V'lano informs his mentor, something wryly
mischievous dancing sparks in his dark eyes. "But I'd be grateful for your
experience to guide us. I'm not as confident as - some of us." A shot
glance at his lifemate, who's still largely concerned with the shape of a
grown dragon, one who's not yet scolded nor flattered him directly and is
therefore somewhat mysterious, green against the deepening sky. "Will we
run, or something, before flying?"

Telgar Weyr> Leeana says, "Hello, Telgar. How goes it?"

Telgar Weyr> I'sai greets! Good, over here, if tired.

Telgar Weyr> Leeana says, "Oh yeah? How are the weyrlings doing?"

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Excellent!"

Telgar Weyr> V'lano says, "Except me. I'm causing all kinds of ruckus and
should be expelled shortly. XD"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "I, personally, am still taking my moping time for
this evening."

Telgar Weyr> M'tri thought V'lano was in trouble!

Telgar Weyr> Leeana says, "Nice of you all to pitch in to the conversation.
How's all the stress of weyrlinghood effectin ya?"

Cantaneth enjoys the attention from his rider as J'len goes over every
spot, muscle, and joint used in mounting and riding for signs of strain or
discomfort. But he doesn't find anything; both he and Cantaneth have been
putting in more time to exercising and building up their strength than just
the morning drills and calistenics. "I know you could carry me longer than
just that, Cantaneth. But we've talked about this. You work out to get
strong, but the real thing is different from the drills. It will take some
time to get used to just how different but then..." And he trails off as he
and his dragon turn their heads in unison towards the sky.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth adds OOCly - next week will be
your dragon's first flight, unmounted! _That's_ going to be exciting all
over again. >:) (10:30 for real this time; poke me if I post otherwise.)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Dianneth pokes Taralyth just cause she
flies faster and can get away :)

Kassima lets herself fall into a lean against Lysseth's warm side with the
class over, folding her arms and grinning at her mentee. "Or as that
Doralle, either? Just as well. There's often a point somewhere along the
line where pairs where one member *isn't* nay quite so confident realize
they aren't as naturally good at everything as they thought." A shadow
flicks across her expression, but it's brief, easily missed. "Run?
Possible, but I doubt it. Mostly 'twill be riding longer stretches, around
both Bowls, getting comfortable; probably a repetition of what you've been
doing in formation on foot, only with you on their backs now. And you'll
have t'have straps, a'course, before you'll ever be permitted the air."
Lysseth doesn't seem particularly attentive to this conversation, with her
half of responsibility done. She's free to keep regarding Volath, part
entertained and part curious perhaps; free, too, to spread *her* wings out
a fraction, and let moonlight glow dimly through thin and dusky sails.
"--He wants the winds too, does he, J'len?" her lifemate asks, darting a
glance their way.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth glitters - well - smugness.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Daikoth is too scared to poke
Taralyth....yet.

Amarie enters the area quietly. She has with her the basket she formally
had abandoned when she drug Eugenian along with her to the weyrling
barracks. Now she slows down to regard the weyrling pairs a slight smile on
her face.

Tisiath just keeps basking in the attention Lani gives him as she checks
far more thoroughly than she likely needs too for what they did. After all,
he should be the one getting all the attention, right? "No Tisiath. It's
fine. Really." She mutters as she works. Likely missing she spoke out loud.

V'lano stretches out an idle hand to stroke a foreshoulder, Volath's head
craned upward out of reach. The smaller bronze mimics the greater green,
loosening his wings so the sails can whisper in the lakeshore breeze,
becoming a reduced, altered-colour mirror of Lysseth's pose. "So we're to
do more of this, in the afternoons. Shame we can't upend it and run
evenings, ride mornings; it'd be easier on my legs." The youth slaps at his
left thigh with a grin, shaking his head. "Thank you for watching over,
Wingleader," he adds, wincing a faintly apologetic look over the formality
of the title. He checks for Kassima's reaction, ready to temper the address
with a wink.

J'len nods to Kassima's question without looking back towards the others.
"Aye. We both do. Then I'll know..." His voice trails towards silence as he
speaks, then leans his head against Cantaneth's side. The larger bronze,
for his part, looks over towards Tisiath and Lanisa.

"Something wrong, Lani?" Either Kassima has sharp ears, or Lysseth does.
Maybe both. Though perhaps more likely the former, since the latter is more
interested in this mirror game, and spreads her wings wider yet until
they're at full extension as if to drink in starlight and night as by day
they drink in the warmth of the sun. "Quit that," Kassi mutters, but it's
without heat and Lysseth obeys not at all. "Hah. Could always suggest that
and see what they make of it, but since it nay being easy on your legs is
probably part of the *point*... you're welcome. And if'n the title bothers
you," with an abrupt, rather impish grin, "I *think* 'twould be all right 
for you t'go back t'calling me 'sir.' Whichever you'd rather, though I 
nominate you for explaining the latter should anyone ask." Spotting Amarie, 
she lifts her hand to offer a cheerful wave, though since the other woman 
is being discreet she doesn't yet call out a greeting; instead, to J'len,
"You'll know?"

Amarie nods to Kassima in appreciate of her silence. She remains hidden
somewhat behind Lisseth's bulk as she too waits to hear J'len's answer of
what he'll know when they find the skies together.

"I'm afraid only that it will bother /you/," pause, "sir." V'lano's eyes
are merry, and he shrugs off concerns of being fingered to explain the mode
of address. Volath's wings span wide, stretching the sails taut between
spars growing increasingly athletic as exercises merit, and he rears up a
little to make himself taller - the better to imitate the larger green. If
Lysseth's wings swallow starlight, the little bronze's take in attention,
thrilling to the grown dragon's interest, even if it is bemused. His rider
is slightly distracted by the wave, but so capably does Amarie hide that
V'lano, squinting over his shoulder toward where he thinks Kassima raised
fingers toward, sees nothing unusual in the darkness and looks back at the
Wingleader, nonplussed.

J'len might not have heard the return question. He's leaning full against
Cantaneth's side, his body rising and falling in time with the dragons'
breaths, and gazing out over the starlit lake. He's facing away from the
others and neither he nor Cantaneth have noticed Amarie's stealthy arrival.
The bronze, however, raises his head to gaze towards Lysseth at her rider's
words. His eye facettes are whirling slowly and there is a tinge of
worry-yellow in them as before. But it's just a touch and most of it is
greens.

Lanisa's attentions caught when she hears her name, and she shakes her head
before replying properly, "Nothing Ka...Wingleader, ma'am. Just got to get
used to things I didn't expect." She gives a wry smile and then gives up
the pretense of checking Tisiath to sink to the sand beside hi awhile.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Cantaneth's mindvoice is colored with more
question than confusion. What he picks up from his own isn't something
that's causing the bronze distress, he just doesn't understand it. << He is
thinking that he will know he didn't fail her? >> There is an image of a
shadowy, indistinct figure and the emotional overtones of close family that
he never got to know. << How can he fail a her he doesn't know? >>

Kassima ducks her head, laughing. "Unfortunately," she promises, "I'm used
to it--just avoid the ma'aming, that's all I ask. I don't *mind* either of
m'titles. 'Tis more that when rules don't demand it I have nay need t'hear
'em all the time. But when you graduate, you'll use m'name again instead,
aye?" Her answer to that nonplussed look is a low, secretive murmur: "A
visitor." Not particularly helpful. Lysseth rocks back on her haunches, the
better to allow her wings full and proper display and perhaps encourage the
same of Volath's; that pleasure is contagious, and she too would seem to be
enjoying the game. Kassi herself is amused by it, though she says nothing.
Not on that topic. "Just Wingleader," she tells Lani. "Or greenrider's
fine. Which things, or is that a nosy sort of question?"

Amarie steps forward and says, "Good evening Kassima. Lanisa, V'lano,
J'len." She drags that heavy basket with her and says, "I forgot to give
this to you earlier." Her comment is directed more at J'len although V'lano
and Lanisa are included with her smile, "I'm afraid Niella and Eugenian
both distracted me."

Lysseth> Cantaneth senses that Lysseth muses over this, her thoughts
spinning in a slow spiral of glittering, almost-midnight blue around a
crystal core. << It must be someone important to him, even if he did not
know her. Ask him? It is an odd way of not failing someone, to go into the
sky-- >> There's a pause, her mind's brilliance dimming slightly while she
consults with her rider. << My own says: not being a dragonrider is not
failing anyone. She thinks this might be relevant. >>

"Understood, sir," grins the Lemos butcher's boy, who turns then - taking
Kassima's attention to Lanisa as kindly dismissal - toward his lifemate,
blinking at the display of dragons, small and large, playing a game of
mimic-me against the starry sky. "Volath," V'lano chortles softly, and
slides his hand up over the very tip of an outstretched wing, following the
long spar as high as he can reach without tiptoeing. "Come on. You are both
beautiful, but we should see to your little ouchie before bed - and I'm
ready for bed!" The dragonet tilts his head just slightly, not enough to
break the scene, and considers his rider through one calm blue eye.
"Please?" This is enough, and Volath dips his head to the grown green, like
a courtier bowing to a lady after a dance. Only when the pair are headed
back toward the bowl does V'lano become aware of Amarie's presence, and
only because of her greeting. "Amarie! You get around," he says, startled.
"I'm headed off - but once Volath's tended I'll try to catch you before you
go." Not staying for a more drawn-out hello and farewell, rider and dragon
move off into the night.

Volath lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

V'lano heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Cantaneth considers that advice, then sends a
feeling of assent before turning his focus once more towards his rider.

"Sorry Ka..Wingleader." She has to stop herself again, "I should know your
preference by now, heard it enough before when it wasn't my turn." Lani
gives mild shrug, "Not too nosy, just. Just, I've got to get better at
having to listen to what I don't want to hear I guess. At least if some
people are around." Like chatty assistants? Yet Amarie gets a smile, "Am!
Hey! Got your letter, thanks." Then after a pause, "Sorry I didn't write
back yet. Just haven't gotten back it yet."

Cantaneth nudges J'len as Amarie announces herself. The bronze is crooning
to his rider at a level almost too low to hear, and J'len wipes his sleeve
across his face before turning around to smile at Amarie. His expression
holds a touch of quiet memory but that's all as he rises to greet her.
"Those two can be rather distracting, yes." He grins at Lanisa's remarks
about the chatty assistant. "As if having your own father as Weyrlingmaster
wasn't enough, right?"

Amarie's smile is just for J'len, one of encouragement and gentle support.
She didn't miss him wiping his sleeve. "It's okay Lanisa," she says, not
looking at the bluerider weyrling. "I only sent that letter the day after
my last visit so I didn't expect a reply just yet." She holds up the
basket, "But I did come this time bearing more treats. I figured everyone
would have gone through the last goody basket I sent through T'bay." If not
T'bay himself having gone through it. "Did your lesson go well J'len?
Lanisa?" She looks between them. "What did you get to do?"

"G'deve, Amarie," says Kassima with a smile, now that the visitor has
announced herself. "Saw you earlier, but didn't want t'interrupt whatever
was going on--what's in the basket?" Never one to let a secret just sit
there unpoked. V'lano's turn turns her own eyes that way, and she laughs
anew at the show; content to let him handle it, and grinning openly at
Volath's response. Lysseth bows her head gravely back, even stretching
wings out that much more in what might be the closest she can come to a
curtsey. "Where'd you learn *that* trick?" her lifemate wants to know once
the mentee pair have gone. The green only looks smug, much as Doralle
earlier, and closes her wings with a last fillip. "'Tisn't the first time,"
Kassi assures Lanisa with a wry grin. "At least Is settled our hash over
that Kalanisa thing, else ma'aming me would probably be *doubly* weird.
Your assistant was... a very talkative woman." Evidently she's groping for
tact. J'len gets a sidelong and speculative glance, but no comment, not yet.

"Aye." Lani replies, giving J'len that wry grin now, "He warned me he'd be
hard if. But he failed to mention the other...joys though." Joys, such a
polite term. She rolls her eyes a bit then, before turning back to Amarie,
"Well, I'll still write. Just maybe not as soon now, since your here, eh?
Congratulations though." She gives a smile again as she says so, "And well?
The mounting and riding did at least. For me anyway. Memorable for th
rest." For Kassi she giggles then, "Aye, that would have been weirder by
far." - "Talkative. Aye. She was that."

"Just some things I made for my friends," Amarie says to Kassima. "Would
you like some?" She pulls out a bag of candies and says, "Here catch,"
tossing them Kass's way. "Mum and I have been making these at home. She's
teaching me how to make food since I'm learning how to plan menus under
Headwoman Kaye's tutelage. I even added the baklava Pierron makes to our
new menu."

J'len nods with Lanisa, "Aye. Groundriding. Mounting, sitting, walking a
distance, then getting down again. Some of the others had... some clumsy
moments." He smirks as he says this, although his humor really isn't
entirely there. He glosses over this, however, in favor of keeping things
light. "That should make some heads turn," he says about the baklava.

Kassima confides to Lani, her wryness having softened to something of mixed
amusement, rue, and sympathy, "Methinks I'm gladder than Kiss could ever be
that she wasn't eyed by the Telgar dragons, for just such reasons. Joyful
though 'twould have t'be for her. Or Kim or Ky, did they have such
fortune." She unfolds her arms in time to snag that bag of candies neatly
out of the air, though dark as it is, she doesn't try to peek inside; she
asks instead with great interest, "What flavor are they? I cooked once, ere
Chaeth and then Lyss found me, but these weren't ever an art I mastered.
M'wagers are on every Weyrling pair having at least one clumsy moment," she
adds with a touch of dryness, though there's humor in it too as her eyes
flicker back towards J'len. "Do worry a bit about that lad who managed
t'get stuck, though."

Amarie grins, "Your favorite. Now you won't have to go raiding the healer's
mint stick tins all the time," Amarie says to Kassima with a smile. To
J'len she asks, "Did you have fun? Was it exciting to be mounted?"

[Editor's Note:  Of course, I have to include the pages which 
followed *that* comment. ;) ]


From afar, to Amarie, Kassima, and Lanisa, J'len is SO not going there :P

From afar, to Amarie, J'len, and Kassima, Lanisa heh!

Long distance to Amarie, J'len, and Lanisa: Kassima just. Dies.

From afar, to J'len, Kassima, and Lanisa, Amarie oh dears

From afar, to J'len, Kassima, and Lanisa, Amarie did NOT mean that the way
it came out!


"Ahh, well. Probably would have been easier, somewhere other than home,
eh?" Lani muses at length. Then sends a glance to J'len, a grin too as she
states the obvious, "Your spared that at least." But at a rumble from
Tisiath, she assures, "No. I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else,
Tisiath. That assistant maybe, but not you."

J'len's eyebrow finds purchase in his hairline as he absorbs Amarie's
words, bites down hard on a response that would not only get him hit but
might confuse Cantaneth t'boot, then swallows and affects an innocent
expression. "Aye. Was great fun," is all he says, although the corner of
his mouth is twitching with barely repressed laughter.

Please excuse Kassima while any reply she might have made concerning mint
is swallowed by a fit of all-too-convenient coughing, coughing that's more
than half choke. It's rather awhile before she manages to put a straight
face on and raise her head--and even then, her eyes are far too merry for
her mild-voiced, "I'm sure 'twas... thankee most kindly, Amarie, and the
Healers will probably thank you too for sparing them my antics for at least
a little while." She bobs her head to Lanisa then. "That's the thought. I
miss Kay, but there's part of me that thinks 'tis as well she Impressed at
Ista... but where your lifemate is, that's where you should be. All the
chattering assistants in the world are naught when stacked against that.
And soon or late, one hopes she'll see you aren't just the weyrbrat she
remembers as a baby anymore; and you aren't just Lanryi and I'sai's
daughter--you're Lanisa, Tisiath's lifemate and a Weyrling of Telgar."

"Goodness! Are you alright J'len?" Amarie looks very concerned by the look
on his face. "Are you sure the ride wasn't too long or hard?" she queries.
"Your face has this strange look upon it? Are you feeling well? Do you need
to rest after all that work being up on top so much?" She steps towards him.

Lanisa's glance between Amarie and J'len yields an ill disclosed smile. Ok,
she's fighting back more than a little laughter herself now, but at length,
she manage to reply to Kassi with the only now safe subject for her. At
least if she's going to contain the other, "One can hope." -- "At least
Y...Others finally got that I was Lani, not an extension of da or something."

Kassima carefully tucks the bag of candies into her belt pouch so that she
can bury her face in her hands for a moment, shoulders quivering. "She
*has* t'be saying that on purpose," she mutters to Lanisa in an aside.
"Doesn't she? --It must be... peculiar, dealing with persons who have a
certain interest." Could she word that any more obscurely if she tried? "It
might fade as a problem, the more you make a life for yourself independant
of him. I'm sure M'tri isn't your friend--" Was there a slight pause before
that word? "--because you're the child of your parents."

J'len decides to take pity on himself by just pointing something out.
"Uh... Amarie... remember what M'tri said to you the other night? That you
didn't quite realize what he'd meant until later?" He trails off his
comment, hoping that she'll pick up on the rest as she did before. He
exchanges looks with Kassima and Lanisa as he does, grinning at Lanisa
about the same time as Kassima's remark about her and M'tri.

Amarie looks blankly at J'len. It could be she IS that innocent. She asks,
"You mean about breaking you? He already explained that to me..he said.."
Her voice trails off as her brain attempts to make the connection together
between what he said and what she said. "Oh!" Her cheeks flame up,
realization dawning. Her basket drops to the ground with a thud, but
doesn't roll over. She buries her face in her hands embarrassment crossing
her features. "No no no.. Oh no." She peers at Kassima and Lanisa between
her fingers and then closes them to further embarrassment they had heard
her words and no doubt thought what J'len did.

Lanisa fights back still more laughter for the aside, it's a slowly losing
battle though Amarie's reaction allows her to manages a dry, "Maybe not."
She watches the other two a bit and then nods to Kassi, "It's always
been... peculiar. But even more so if they have to drag me into it. I don't
-belong- between him and whom ever after all. And I don't want to be
there." Ah but the last brings her up quick with faintly flushed cheeks,
"No. He doesn't care about that. Who they are."

"M'tri is a wonderful young man. I'd be proud to adopt him as my son
anyday," Amarie says peeping out of her fingers at Lanisa. She reaches down
to pick up her basket, her cheeks still pink. She walks up to J'len and
holds out the basket for him saying, "Here, please share this goody basket
with the weyrlings and nothing else. Not even Roberta is to know what
happened here tonight," she instructs carefully with a swift look at Lani
to keep her from gossiping as well. "I feel stupid enough already." Then
backing up she says, "I should probably get home. I wasn't supposed to stay
this long."

J'len steps forward, reaching to put his arm around Amarie's shoulders.
"You're not stupid, love." Yes, he said it. "I just didn't want you
thinking we were laughingg at you behind your back. I /know/ you weren't
trying to say those things like we heard them. And yes, it was great fun
riding Cantaneth. I hope you'll enjoy it as much when we can take
passengers." He accepts the basket and nods solemnly about not letting
Roberta catch wind of this. "That means you, too, Great Bulk." Cantaneth
croons his agreement, then leans forward to sniff at the basket's contents.
He smiles at Amarie as she turns to leave, "Take care, Amarie. It's been
good seeing you again."

"Don't worry," Kassi assures Amarie, a grin threatening to break despite
her attempts to suppress it. "We know there wasn't any, ah, long and hard
riding going on. So t'speak. If'n there had been, Cantaneth would more
likely than nay have let the whole Weyr know. And J'len wouldn't be
standing a'fore you in one piece right now. Don't fear that 'twill tell
Roberta. I'm always worried 'twill slip in the drool if'n I get anywhere
near her." A wink for that, and a grin for Amarie, before she says, "Best
of nights t'you--hope you can visit again soon. 'Tis always a pleasure. And
thankee again for the candies; trust they'll be put t'good use!" She shifts
into a more serious mein--at least slightly so--when she turns back to
Lanisa. "If'n these... persons... truly care for him--or your mum--then
they might take an interest in you; your parents love you and you're a part
of their lives, after all. But the sort of thing it sounds like you mean,
I'm inclined t'be agreeing with. T'van tried t'get Kisai's help in getting
m'attention--which is t'say, it being him, me into bed--once, but he did
keep it t'fairly innocent questions, for which I'm grateful. I rather
thought he wouldn't."

Kassima appends, "That M'tri wouldn't care, I mean."

"I will J'len," Amarie promises. "You take care too. And you too
Cantaneth," she says to the bronze to let him know she's not forgotten. "I
know you'll take care of him for me." She grins. "I will come visit when I
can. I think I've pressed my luck with two visits within one sevenday. It
might be some more time but I will write you." Then she says, "Oh and I got
your letter. I'm going to write you the story of the man in Belior and how
he got put there so that you can tell him the story." She grins before
waving in her departure.

"Roberta? Hardly. -- I still want to burn that pillow of hers." What was
that about not getting between her da and whomever? "We'll see you again
soon, Am?" As she realizes the other girl is leaving, even if she's too
late. But she sighs an nods back to Kassi, "Well some of them, I don't
really know most times if they see me as a way to him, or they see me as a
part of his life, but just the same. I'd still like it if they remember I'm
me." And who wouldn't? "T'van." She rolls her eyes at his name, "Did Kisai
tell him what for, I hope?" Then a slight grin, "Yeah. He's not that sort
to. Trii I mean."

Kassima rolls her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "Could be with some of 'em
that they just don't get children, though you scarcely qualify as that
anymore. The younger a person, the more people there are who don't think of
'em as having their own personalities, wants, and lives apart from their
parents or fosterers, methinks--which to an extent makes sense: the younger
they are, the less likely they are t'be independant in any way. But they're
still individuals. As you are, though now a'course you're also linked
t'Tisiath." An amused sound escapes her. "Nay quite. She was mostly
confused, I suspect, about why this odd man kept wanting t'know what her
mother liked t'eat. She did ask me if'n 'twas *sure* the bairn I carried at
the time was her papa's and nay this crazy person's."

J'len grins at Cantaneth as the bronze pokes his nose at the basket to get
a better sniff at the contents. "You'll see what's in there tomorrow after
drills, Great Bulk." The bronze snorts at the pet name but pulls his head
back up. "But for now I think it's time for bed." He smiles to Lanisa and
Kassima, saluting the latter with just enough of a hint of irreverence but
not going over the line. He's getting better at balancing the two. "Good
night, you two. Take care, Tisiath." Both he and Cantaneth head towards the
bowl and the barracks beyond.

Kassima laughs softly at J'len and Cantaneth's interplay, lifting a hand to
her brow to return that salute with one not irreverent, but somewhat
casual. "G'night t'you both," she bids, "and sweet dreams, mayhaps dreams
of the skies."

Lanisa nods slowly, "I suppose there is some of that too. And I know I've
been around him more than some, considering. Alain hadn't had the
opportunity, for one. Being at Igen til he was searched. But I'm still not
very good at dealing with people who can't see me for me, regardless." She
grins, "I can imagine she did, if that's the case." Tisiath's croon beats
Lani's wave by a heartbeat or two, but she smiles back, "Night you two.
We'll be along before it gets too late."

J'len smiles fondly as Cantaneth departs for his own amusements.

J'len heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

"I know Is went t'visit Alain," Kassima says, nodding, "as I'm sure he goes
t'visit Kysaila now--but still, a point. It isn't the same. Kaylira, Kisai,
and Kaisan all see or saw far more of their fathers than m'children whose
sires live away, even though they are or were much beloved. I don't know
what might help with that beyond time. Time for people t'be forgetting and
for you t'be establishing yourself clearly as a presence all your own, if'n
that makes sense; you won't live with him anymore, won't be needing him for
transport, will have an adult life and adult responsibilities. That might
help some; methinks 'twill. But you'll never entirely escape your father or
your mother. Truth be told, would you want to?"

"He did visit. But aye. It's not the same I think." -- "And no, can't say
as I'd want to totally escape. I like spending time with them both. Ma and
da. Even if I keep earning pushups for forgetting not to make a face at him
or something." Lani muses and then shrugs a shoulder, "I know I'll probably
always be little Lani to some people, and Lanryi and I'sai's daughter to
others. I don't totally mind that. But I can't really escape the ones who
are annoying about it right now."

Kassima grins a little at that. "It must be hard," she agrees, "much as
'tis necessary, t'forget for awhile that he's your father and think of him
as Weyrlingmaster. Likely as hard for him in reverse. That's true for
everybody, y'know--at least I think 'tis. I go home, Greystones-home, and
there I'll always be Keyran and Yvani's daughter. Wager Is would tell you
that at Harper Hall he's remembered by some as Saiya's son. The way of the
world. Sometime you'll be able t'escape it again for at least short
spans--and in the meanwhile, if'n anyone gives you trouble you don't want,
even an Assistant, mayhaps you should consider going to another? Bronwynn,
mayhaps. She could hear you out and pass the concern on if'n she thought it
warranted it. Lowest-ranked in the Weyr you all may be, but few would want
aught t'get in the way of your training."

"I didn't expect easy. Just yeah, didn't expect something like tonight. And
yeah, I know growing up some people didn't hassle me because of whose
daughter I was -- Just as others would more because of it. I just sort of
got used to handling it. Even if it was doing something incredibly stupid."
She pauses there, as if something is just beyond her grasp and then it's
gone again, "Yeah, maybe I will. If what ever da said to her tonight didn't
stop it. I think that got to me too. His having to. I mean, I know it's his
job to see nothing gets in the way...but like you said, hard, for it being
me."

"Well, for what 'tis worth... I wouldn't want," Kassima says, rather
carefully, "t'criticize I'sai's choice of assistants unduly, because he
knows at least eight times more about what Weyrlingmastery requires than
I'm ever apt to. At the same time, I don't think you should have had to
expect something like tonight. Weyrlings being singled out that way based
on their parentage isn't the norm as far as I've ever known it, and if'n
fortune favors, it may nay happen again." She shrugs. "Nay way of knowing
'til time shows it. Aye--that 'tis Interval now, if'n the Starsmiths are
right, is surely some consolation, but it doesn't change how he probably
has t'see it and treat you. Thread isn't the only way for Weyrlings t'die.
Nor riders."

Kassima adds, "Nay t'mention the issue of fairness even if'n the potential
fatality *weren't* involved, but death does provide one with a certain
added incentive."

"I've not had to see her at least much before tonight, course for a lot of
the early stuff before, I get left a lone a bit more. I know how to scrub
and oil, cut up meat and the like already. So maybe I was just unlucky that
tonight was when she had her chance to reminisce." Lani rolls her eyes, for
that, but then nods before she goes on, "Aye. I know he has to be. And I
don't mind. At least, not really." Quieter then, sober even, "I know it
isn't. And I know how he takes it if a weyrling doesn't make the jump
between like they should."

A thought occurs to Kassi; a wry grin steals across her face. "Your bad
luck, someone else's good--if'n she recalls you as a bairn, she likely
recalls *others* in this clutch besides, nay? So next time it might be one
of your clutchmates she's exclaiming over, telling all the world how he
used t'run through the Living Cavern without even his swaddling on." Pause.
"Nay, personally, that I want t'know who among the 'Lings might've been a
streaker in his youth. The trauma. The trauma. Anyway... aye. He couldn't
take it otherwise, nay and be him; nor and be a good Weyrlingmaster, one
could argue. 'Tis even harder on them t'lose one than 'tis on one of us--"
Her gesture indicates her Wingleader's knot. "Every Weyrling is his
student. Every Weyrling is his charge. He has t'teach 'em well enough
t'keep 'em alive; trust himself enough t'believe he can. And it *still*
isn't enough, because nay matter how great a job he does--and I believe he
does--there are always mistakes, or fools, or unlucky ones. It may nay be
any fault of his or the others'. But some part of him will never believe
that. That's my theory, anyway, as 'twas for May and Yash and Ursa. I could
be entirely off... but 'twould surprise me."

Lanisa might have outright laughed another day, but now she just has a grin
to match, "Aye, poor them if that's the case. -- I'd rather not know the
streakers either, though now that you say that, I do remember one..." She
shakes her head, and considers the other, "No. I'd say your right on that,
from what I've seen. Just back then I didn't think about it the same way as
I do now." She pauses there, "Tisiath's getting sleepy. I'd better get him
back before I can't get him to the barracks." She slowly gets to her feet
again, then offers, "Night Kassi. I mean Wingleader. And thanks, you know.
For the talk and all."

"After graduation," Kassima suggests, "tell me--if'n 'tisn't one of those I
tap!--so I can have a snicker over it without having t'picture it whenever
I see 'em in classes, would you?" She pushes away from Lysseth herself,
admitting, "And I'd best get t'sleep if'n I want t'be of any use tomorrow.
G'night, Lanisa. Dream sweet, and nay of streakers--and you're always
welcome."

Lanisa giggles, "I promise, I'll tell you right off." Then with a salute
followed by a wave, she and Tisiath are on their way.

Lanisa heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.