--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Try Your Wings


Date:  September 13, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr 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.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kassi's Note:  Kassima is weaving flower-chains at the Lake when this
log starts, which puts her in a good place to observe and once again
participate in a Weyrling class; whether that was by accident or 
design, neither of us is telling. ;)  Another very fun lesson, in 
which the young dragons get their first chance to glide without their
riders.  Some unpleasantness towards the end of the scene doesn't 
detract too much--it was still, all in all, a lot of fun, and an 
example of why the Weyrlingmaster team rocks my world. :)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Log:

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth seeks out a few particular
minds - and glitters an image of the lakeshore, and the possibility of
_flight_. Come, then, and bring your riders.

Cantaneth lumbers in from the central bowl.

J'len heads over from the central bowl.

Dianneth flies in from above.

Yselle heads over from the central bowl.

Claret heads over from the central bowl.

Avrieth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Tisiath lumbers in from the central bowl.

I'sai heads over from the central bowl.

Lanisa heads over from the central bowl.

Emilly heads over from the central bowl.

It's useful, sometimes, to have an eavesdropping dragon; it's certainly
useful for Kassima now, since it allows her to stop weaving flower-chains
and get to her feet before *most* of the Weyrling crew arrives. It even
allows her to tug the chain from Lysseth's headknob in a semi-stealthy
fashion. Pity she forgot the floral crown atop her own head. Lysseth's
rumble of greeting to the young dragons as they arrive is thus decidedly,
understandably amused.

Sionath lumbers in from the central bowl.

A'tan heads over from the central bowl.

Leonneth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Dianneth spirals down at Taralyth's call, Yselle, apparently has been on
some sort of errand, and it's only now when she has to be here, that she
arrives. She slides off Dianneth's back easily, fluffing her hair. She has
the bad manners to have a /sunburnt/ nose too.

I'sai claps his hands, summoning them into line, his gesture marking some
distance away from the lake. "Inspection time! C'mon, line up." Taralyth
swooshes down to a landing, mantling his wings behind him, -eyeing-.
"Kassima. Lurking or accidental? Either way, be ready to be pressed into
service, unless you protest, like those sea-renegades that steal men -
women - to run their ships. Sail them, I mean. Oh, and everyone? Salutes,
please; class hasn't formally begun -yet-." He glances towards his
assistants with another gesture towards the weyrlings, this time a: you get
first dibs. If you hurry.

A'tan moves quietly and points to a spot for Leonneth to settle into for
the inspection. He scritches her lids for a moment and thens stands tall
next to the other weyrlings. He grins at Claret and Lanisa. "This is going
to be great."

Emilly walks over, having been lurking around waiting for class to start.
Sionath ambles along not far behind her, warbling merry greeting to both
greens and sending an especially sweet croon Taralyth's way. She nods at
I'sai's words and waves Yselle's way then grins at Kassi. "Lovely
headgear," she remarks, quite solemnly.

Lanisa and Tisiath slide into line, but somewhere in the middle of where
it's shaping up. Buried? Out of sight, out of mind, salute well in place of
course. Course, Tisiath is less restrained about drawing attention to the
pair of them as he keeps needing reminders not to open and show off his
wings. One very excited little blue, yep. Lani does spare a glance and a
grin for A'tan's comment, but then her attention is where it belongs.

Kassima is all cheer as she informs I'sai, "You can torture me if'n you
want, but 'twill never tell--and 'twill have you know, I always wanted t'be
a sea-renegade. Any chance knife-fighting or swinging from masts will be a
part of this service?" Well, a lady can dream. Lysseth draws herself up
into a less casual and more formal posture, the better to set example. If
her wings extend in a leisurely stretch that happens to display their dusky
sails, well... tonight, for this class, perhaps that's not such a bad
example to set. "G'deve, Weyrlings," the rider adds, returning salutes as
they're given. "And Weyrlingmaster; Assistant; Aide. Lovely--oh." She
flushes, offers Emilly a sheepish grin. "Nay exactly intentional, but
thankee."

J'len jogs to keep up with Cantaneth's long strides, the bronze's
excitement showing in his rapid pace across the bowl. The pair come up
short at I'sai's brisk announcement of inspection, J'len taking a quick
moment to give himself a quick once-over; hair, clothes, boots, clean.
Check. Then he sets his hand on Cantaneth's leg and gets him to settle into
place; wings slightly flagged, head up and alert. They both show the
build-up of muscle from the daily drills and extra exercising they have
each done to prepare.

Claret follows a step behind Avrieth, who chooses her own place to settle,
eyes whirling green. Snapping a salute obediently she rattles off a list of
titles, beginning, "Weyrlingmaster, Assistant Weyrlingmaster, um,
greenrider? And, oh, Wingleader." Lowering her hand she walks up Avrieth's
side, placing a hand on her shoulder as she gives A'tan a bright smile.

A'tan brins his hand up in a salute for the riders and his weyrling masters
and assistants. He tries hard to keep his excitement to a minimum and
glances down quickly at Leonneth. She is sitting fairly still as her eyes
whirl quickly at her excitement as well.

"Kassi," Yselle says, cheerfully enough. Emilly's offered a grin too, a
thumbs up, whatever that means, I'sai, well, she just salutes him briskly,
"Weyrlingmaster," she says. Dianneth snorts, /she/ isn't shy about
expressing her feelings, and that snort is directed at a certain
Weyrlingmaster. She looks around, and then heads over to a group of
weyrlings around Lanisa. "Hey Lani," she says. "I think you can call Emilly
"Aide," she tells Claret helpfully on her way past.

Emilly moves in among the grouped weyrlings, taking up position near J'len,
and the others near him. "Hey there," she greets cheerfully and turns
slightly, to await the next set of instructions from the Weyrlingmaster.
Sionath seems quite impressed by Lysseth's display, but she only settles
down, hunkered in fact, herself, tail wrapped neatly about herself.

-Taralyth- spins gleaming eyes Sionath's way, pausing only to whuffle at
Lysseth's rider's flowers; his rider offers, "You can swing from -her-
neck, Kassi. Go ahead and take Claret; I'll give a once-over when you're
done, but you know the basics. We're looking for proper muscle
development." Dianneth snorts at I'sai? Taralyth snorts at Dianneth, but
somewhat more pleasantly. I'sai's pale eyes meanwhile mark A'tan, and that
late salute manages to get there -just- in time. "J'len," he says for that
weyrling's lack. "Drop and give me ten." Pushups. "While he's doing that, I
want the rest of you weyrlings - humans - to bend your knees and jump to
set a good example for your dragons while they're being inspected. Focus on
the landing: that's where most injuries happen, unsurprisingly, and they
need to be nice and supple. Keep jumping till I tell you to stop," Is notes
to the others.

"Assistant Weyrlingmaster." Lani replies politely to Yselle, but at the
same time, with a hint of a grin. She slants a glance from Ys, to her da,
then lifts a brow, just slightly and that's all before she complies with
directions. What ever it is she was thinking, that's the only give away to
it before she starts with the expected jumping.

A'tan lets out a sigh of relief and drops his arm from the salute. He looks
over at Leonneth, "Alright Leonn, I'm going to show you how you should
land." He listens to her for a minute, "No, I'm not going to flap my arms.
I don't have wings like you." He rolls his eyes as he scans the group
before swinging both arms behind him, concentrating on the jump, bending
both knees. He jumps up and then comes down a little unsteady.

T'bay heads over from the central bowl.

Sarevith lumbers in from the central bowl.

Volath lumbers in from the central bowl.

V'lano heads over from the central bowl.

Kassima laughs at the whuffling, raising a hand to offer a rub to that
diamondine muzzle--brief, though, even if accepted: there's work afoot.
"When the class is done," she agrees with his rider. "Lest I give the young
and impressionable Ideas. Got that--" And she meanders towards her mentee's
place, Lysseth trailing after as an unusually large shadow. "She can
wriggle her tail a bit while she jumps," Kassi offers to Claret, grinning.
"But nay too much. This would be a terrible time t'wrench something."

The weyrlings are more or less lined up some distance from the lake in the
late afternoon light; the humans are for the most part jumping up and down,
of all things, while their dragons are being inspected, although J'len's
been set to pushups for some infraction or other. I'sai meanwhile walks
around Leonneth, and after a few narrower glances says, "-She's- doing all
right, A'tan, for the most part; but you've both got to get more sleep.
Tell her the stars are stuck on with flour-water paste if you want."

Claret wrinkles her nose, though she nods her head briskly. "Right, Aide."
Attention drawn quickly enough from that, though, she eyes the other
weyrlings as they start jumping, and bends her knees preparatory to doing
so herself. "Like this, Av," she says, nudging the green as if to help gain
her attention. "Bend and then..." Trailing off, Claret starts jumping,
adding at Kassima's comment, "Hear that? You can wiggle. Only not -too-
much. Or you shall get hurt and then you won't be able to fly at--oof."
Breaking off, Claret kicks away a stray pebble that obstructed one landing
jump. "And don't do that."

Dianneth, once she's got that off her chest, turns /her/ gaze on Taralyth
with much more interest than she did on his rider, and offers him a
pleasant wuffle, if slightly miffed for Sionath's greater attention, then
/hers/ is caught by the weyrlings and she bugles loudly at them in an
extremely bossy manner. Yselle seems disinclined to elaborate on any
strangeness on her part, at least to Lanisa, because all she says is "How's
Tisiath doing?" and to the blue, "I'm going to need to take a look at you,
I'll need you to extend your wings fully, and let me take a good look at
your legs as well," pausing to grin at him, she adds, "I'll need you to
stand as still as you can. The quicker we do this, the sooner you fly."
After a pause, she adds, "He's looking good, Lani," with a glance at I'sai,
she adds, "You can probably stop jumping now, if you think he's got the
idea from you."

A'tan chuckles softly and looks at I'sai with a nod. "Yes sir I will. She
is just so curious is all." He reaches down to touch Leonneth as she
unfurls her wings carefully for the weyrlingmaster to inspect if he would
like. She croons softly at him as her eyes whirl in excitement to be able
to try these out finally.

Emilly waits for J'len to finish his push-ups before doing a close
examination of Cantaneth, but she does walk around him slowly to get a
general idea of his color and health. "Looking good," she says for the
benefit of both dragon and Weyrling. Sionath dips her head a bit lower and
croons gently to the young bronze, then sits back again, eyes swirling
slowly blue-green.

Kassima takes a couple of jumps herself, for further encouragement; whether
she keeps the bounces to two out of care for her leg or a wish to preserve
*some* dignity is a question for the ages. "All right, let's just see...."
Lysseth keeps a close eye on the jumping while her rider walks a slow
circle around the young green, inspecting legs, joints, wings, hide, all.
"This place above her right flank," she says at last. "And there, just
behind her shoulder--how do they feel t'her? Look a bit patchy. Like
mayhaps she's nay been sitting still enough during her oilings. And that
claw, how'd that happen? But her wings look good. Her legs do. And Lyss
approves of her motion. I don't see aught that should hinder her flight
tonight."

J'len drops down with a brief flush at his lapse in courtesy, catching
himself with his hands out and moving straight into the pushups to avoid
getting sand all over himself. He gets out the ten ordered pushups in the
space of a couple breaths and is back on his feet with a slightly harder
push on the last one and a quick pulling of his legs to get his feet under
him. To be certain of avoiding the same offense, he snaps off a crisp
salute to I'sai, Yselle, Emilly, and Kassima, then waits for Emilly to pass
judgement on Cantaneth's condition before he releases the breath he was
holding. Cantaneth returns Sionath's croon with one of his own, his head
held up at a rakish angle as he regards the mature green with his own
green-whirling eyes. With a grin for his dragon's flirtation, J'len joins
the others in showing his bronze the idea of how to get a good upward jump
by demonstrating himself.

V'lano's no longer covered in meat-stains and beast-blood on a daily basis,
but you'd think Volath - so obsessed with that tantalizing sky! - could
have picked a better time to get his muzzle all bloody from an enthusiastic
light snack. Anyone who saw the resulting efforts at hurried cleaning in
the barracks might just have expected them to be late. When the pair
arrive, at least the dragon is spotlessly clean, and V'lano - well, he's a
little wet. He pauses within sightline and yelling distance of the
lakeshore and directs salutes in the appropriate directions while Volath
makes lumbering steps forward, anxious to catch up with the others.

T'bay marches toward the lake shore rather resolutely, a scowl marring his
features. Meandering along behind him is Sarevith, who seems completely
unconcerned about their tardiness. T'bay snaps off a precise set of salutes
to the weyrlingstaff and wingleader, Sarevith saucily imitating with an
unfurling of his wings in just such a manner that coats T'bay with lake
shore sand blow upward. "Stop it," he hisses. "Don't make it worse." He
takes a few steps toward Yselle and Lanisa, sheepish, watching.

There's a ruckus over by the Barracks and Emilly looks that way. "Be right
back ..." she says, nodding I'sai's way to let him know she'll handle it
and slips away.

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

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

A'tan watches as Leonneth stretches out her wings moving them back and
forth. The shimmer of the dark unside of her seems almost black. She stands
very still as she lenghtens the wings out fully for inspection. A'tan
smiles warmly as he does one more jump for her. "See that is how it will be
done. But you will flap your wings. Unfortunately I don't have wings or I
would show you better dear."

Tisiath warbles pleasantly, with such attention on him! Ever the showman he
makes much of spreading his wings to display them to what he figures is
their best advantage. Standing still is tougher, but something he manages
after Lani gives him a 'look' when she stops with her jumping, "Yes ma'am."
After all, it's easier to reply when not doing the required exercise, "He's
very excited about today, wanted to look his best... As usual." And oh no,
she still so doesn't ask about the other. Not too surprising that, is it?

Avrieth keeps her eye on the jumping as well, though a swerve of her head
and a low croon of greeting to recognize the presence of Kassima and her
much more interesting shadow is slipped in. Claret meanwhile dutifully
keeps up the requisite jumps until hearing a direct order otherwise, though
she looks a bit harassed about it for a few minutes. "I don't know if
you'll have to jump and jump. Maybe. For practice." Lengthening the time
between each jump as Kassi inspects Avrieth, she bits her lip, craning her
head to look at the patchy spots and the claw. "She says a little itchy,
but that she doesn't mind right now. Well, you will tomorrow," Claret
offers to Avrieth with a decisive nod. Jumping again before looking at the
claw, her brows contract in thought. "I expect when she was wiggling?"
Claret offers uncertainly. "When we were practicing mounting," she adds,
though she doesn't sound much more sure of that statement.

"I'm sure she is," I'sai says rather dryly. "Curiosity is good and all, but
I don't want to see you nodding off in class; I don't care -how- tedious
those formations can be." He observes those wings - reaches to touch,
gently, that green hide unless Leonneth moves - and then gives the pair a
nod. "You're good to go. But after class and before dinner, A'tan, I want
you -both- to run laps around the bowl until you're both tired out." With
that, he circles around to Claret, confers briefly with Kassima, and
approves with a second nod. "Oiling for you, during your free time
tonight," he remarks before directing J'len and T'bay over to Yselle,
V'lano over by A'tan. To the latecomers he says, after an ill-concealed
laugh for Sarevith and his sand, "To remind you to get here on time, you'll
run laps before breakfast with S'fin. In the opposite direction from each
other." Which makes it hard to talk. "In the meantime, start jumping up and
down while your dragons are inspected. - Rest of you who've passed
inspection, your dragonets get to jump up and down, now. Wings still to
their sides, please. Jump, jump, focus on the landing first, then see what
height you can get." One weyrling pair wanders back to the barracks,
disconsolate, not having survived inspection.

Yselle lets the 'other' pass, grinning and saying, "Dianneth approves,"
something the green is sure to echo. "She believes in looking your best for
everything," Yselle ducks under Tisiath's wing, checking the insertions and
flight muscles very carefully, and then, given that the blue doesn't look
like moving, or kicking, leans down to inspect his legs, and joints, making
thoughtful "Mm," noises, and if he doesn't get away from her, touching them
in an exploratory manner. "Seems ready to go," she says, standing. "He can
start jumping now," she turns now to J'len, and notes, a little sharply,
"Cantaneth /must/ learn to pay attention. No ogling greens during classes,
okay?" As for T'bay, he at least gets a rueful grin, and a "You'll be fit
anyway. Who's next?"

Kassima takes advantage of Lysseth's eyes to whirl about and return J'len's
salute without missing more than half a beat; T'bay and V'lano get salutes
too, her second mentee also receiving a quick smile. Her attention doesn't
stray from Avrieth for long, however. "Well," she says after her conference
with the Weyrlingmaster, bending to inspect the claw again, "'tis minor;
you'd likely have noticed if'n 'tweren't. Let her know if'n it bothers you,
Avrieth," with another smile up in belated exchange for that croon. "The
jumping's good for your legs, as you'll see when you go aloft."

Leonneth warbles at A'tan and folds her wing in tightly to her body. She
nudges him to show her again and he nods his head as he jumps up into the
air and lands easily. "See it isn't that hard. Go ahead and try it. Just
don't open your wings. Practice jumping. I'll do it with you." The green
tilts her head as she looks over at Tisiath and wuffles before moving over
a little ways. She folds in her wings and stands for a moment then takes a
tentative hop. She lands and warbles at A'tan who is smiling. "Good, now
just a littel higher."

J'len nods attentively to Yselle as he and Cantaneth join her, T'bay, and
Lanisa. "Aye, Assistant Weyrlingmaster." Cantaneth stands still at J'len's
instruction and obediently brings his head down a bit so he can more
closely watch both his rider and Yselle. While the other dragons are
getting their inspection, J'len shows Cantaneth a few more times how to
bring his weight down over his heels then spring upward explosively. Given
his own size and the extra muscle mass he's put on doing extra exercises
and running, he gets respectable height on his own jump and his bronze's
eyes whirl a rapid green in interest as he sits back on his haunches,
anxious to join the other dragons in their own pre-flight jumping.

Kassima throws her own lifemate a *look* over her shoulder. Whatever silent
impetus is behind it leaves Lysseth momentarily nonplussed, but after a
moment the green jumps as example--once, twice, wings tucked in close, with
all the grace that the action will allow. Which is to say, not much.

V'lano can't help but laugh, adding another salute to the Weyrlingmaster in
an attempt to make the reaction less disrespectful. "Opposite directions,"
he echoes under his breath, then jogs to catch up with Volath, who's
already moving toward Leonneth. The young bronze flicks his wings just a
few feet away from his sides, shivering musculature to make the sails catch
the light, and tenses the bulkier muscles along the front of each foreleg.
The contraction sends his fore half up just a tiny bit, and he relaxes it
after, then repeats: stretching up and down in a motion somewhat mirroring
A'tan's, head bobbing with an arching and unarching neck in time. "Stop
it," V'lano hisses, falling into line near A'tan and waving to demand his
lifemate's whirling-green attention. Then the butcher's son, too, begins
jumping.

"Tisiath is rather insistent about it, not that I mind, ma'am. Keeps me out
of trouble." Which is, of course, saying something where Lani's concerned.
And Tisiath's only problem with the inspection is he turns his head around
to try and get a better look at where Yselle looks. Self inspection? But
after another look (tm) and presumably a few words of her own, the blue
stops and waits until Ys is done. A puff of air blown Leonneth's way as
they wait for the assistant weyrlingmaster to be clear, and Tisiath takes
his turn at the jumping.

T'bay moves in the direction he's pointed, his anger fading into a deep
sigh as the consequence for their tardiness is assigned. Whirling
discontent from Sarevith prevents his anger from lasting, as he's drawn in
to comforting the large sad-eyed manipulator. "Yes'm," T'bay responds to
Yselle, "I think Sare's ready." His tone is a trifle unsteady, as though he
were not so sure himself. "Laps. Right. And jumping? Jumping. Okay." He
studies those to either side, imitating their motion, and joins the
jumpers, while Sarevith busies himself watching the other dragonets with
fond fascination.

Claret nods, pausing in her example to remark, "Well, I guess I might have
noticed and then forgotten when it happened. Do tell me, Avrieth!" Going
slowly through the process of another jump, Claret instructs, "Now your
turn. Bend your knees, just like Lysseth, there," she points out, "And then
up!" Avrieth eyes her rider with interest for a moment before obligingly
following instructions. Bending her knees she's used to. Switching the
focus of her attention to Lysseth, now, she mimics her actions, jumping up
a meager height and then landing not quite as softly as could be wished.

I'sai circles 'round Volath with an assessing eye, ducking those
light-catching wings; "Patchiness is doing a whole lot better - I can tell
you've been working on it," he says at length, pausing here and there to
ask token permission and touch. "You know he'll need a recoating after
class; I want you to focus on areas where his hide rubs against his hide,
especially legs against belly. And if he'd eaten much more, he wouldn't be
able to fly with us - remember that, and if he starts feeling any stomach
upset at all, or you notice it in yourself for that matter - could be
relayed - then stop. His turn to jump, now." He glances over to Tisiath,
and then Leonneth, "That's it, keep at it. Good job with showing her,
A'tan. Make sure she has enough distance from the others - careful! -
and..." his voice rises. "Once you've had more practice with jumping with
wings back, your dragons can try it with wings out. Careful not to do too
much of a downsweep, though, this time - don't want any wingtips hitting
the ground."

"Wait until he starts fussing over what /you/ wear," Yselle mutters, her
tone as she addresses Lanisa, rueful. She watches him jump, especially the
landings, muttering again, "mmhmm. Make sure you bend your knees as you
come down, Tisiath, straight knees and you'll be walking funny for days,
and definitely grounded." Then, to J'len, she adds, with a quirk of a grin,
"You too, actually, although we won't ground /you/ since you're grounded
anyway, but the Weyrlingmaster might get upset if you're not up to doing
your pushups," which may be just said Weyrlingmaster's form of humour
rubbing off on her. "You've been doing extra exercises haven't you? Stay
still Cantaneth," she repeats the inspection, in much the same way as she
did for Tisiath. "- Don't go anywhere T'bay, you and Saverith are next. Let
him watch you jump whilst I finish up here." Once she's satisfied with
Cantaneth, she says, "Okay, have him copy your jumps, J'len, care with the
landing, as I just told Tisiath." She'll clap the bronze on the flank, if
he'll allow, before stepping back to watch.

Tinker darts in from the central bowl.

"That's good!" Kassima encourages, not-too-soft landing and all. "Just
watch how you land, Avrieth--make sure you bend your knees enough, let the
joints fold, absorb some of the impact of your weight. You don't want
t'break any bones. But you'll get the hang of it. Mayhaps one more jump
like that, and then you can try for distance; after, with the wings out.
Lyss, show her?" The adult female spreads her wings again--glad enough, it
might seem, of any excuse to do so--and repeats the jump, her shoulder
muscles tensed enough to keep sails from drooping and tips from touching
the earth.

S'fin smirks Yselle's way; "Someone's rubbing off on you, Ys," but the
bluerider's smart enough to duck behind a suddenly wide-eyed weyrling
immediately after.

A'tan nods and smiles warmly at Leonneth. "See you've got the hang of it.
Go ahead and try with your wings out. Feel the wind catch in them so it
will take you off the ground." The little green warbles and moves farther
away from the other dragons. She takes two steps and then lifts her wings
up. She croons as she curls her body underneath her and lets the tension
spring her up into the air. She seems to float there for a moment with her
wings full out. She flaps them once and glides about 10 feet before one of
her legs touches down. She looks back at A'tan and then ends up almost face
down in the soft sand. She tries to get up but stumbles around a little.
A'tan chuckles, "you should have been paying attention."

Sionath lumbers in from the central bowl.

Emilly heads over from the central bowl.

"Don't give him any idea's, ma'am." Lani replies in a hushed undertone, as
if keeping the idea from the jumping blue. And Tisiath obliges, he so wants
to get it right, so knees bend more, and he keeps on jumping. "That's it,
Tisi," Lani praises him, forgetting herself maybe to say so out loud, "Can
he try with his wings open now, ma'am? He's ever so eager to."

Emilly return, looking oddly enough, amused. Her lips are twitching and her
eyes twinkling with merriment. She waits a moment, assessing the lesson
from the sidelines, arms folded.

I'sai, seeing Leonneth take off, takes off running towards her - after a
quick inspection, "_Careful_. A'tan. Take her back to the barracks. When
the rest of the class is practicing flying tomorrow, you'll be giving her
an extra-good rub and then - what the shard, polishing your fellow
weyrlings' boots tonight if they want it. You were lucky, this time."

Volath holds mostly still for the inspection, muscles beneath the smooth
hide shivering at some of the more potentially ticklish touches. "He's
gotten better at telling me where to pay attention specially," the bronze's
weyrling replies between two deep-kneed jumps with a nod, dark eyes
glinting with a trace of pride at the compliment, however faint. "Or I've
improved at determining what he means by it." V'lano leaves off jumping
once permission's given and turns his focus from the Weyrlingmaster to his
lifemate. But Volath's seen the little green next to him swirl a few feet
through the air, and it's inspired him: translucent wings stretch broad,
the motion repeated by a widening of the once-butcher's eyes. "No," he
breathes, at once awed by the dragonet's span and by his sheer gall. "Don't
even think about it." But the wings stay out, and Volath does more of that
up-and-down bobbing, threatening to make his first jump an airy one.

"And just /who/ would that be?" Yselle narrows her eyes at S'fin - or where
he /was/ - and suggests, "Don't even say it." When Lanisa speaks, though,
she's quick enough to snap her attention back to the weyrlings. "Wait until
the Weyrlingmaster gives the word," she says, quite firmly. "What we're
doing is making sure he knows how to /land/. If he sprains something,
you'll feel it Lani, and you won't hear the end of it if he misses out, I'm
sure."

T'bay nods respectfully to Yselle, stepping aside and directing his
repentant (for the moment, anyway) lifemate to the side of her group where
there is a bit of room for them to practice. Watching the other weyrlings,
T'bay's own jumps into the air gradually gain form as he begins to grasp
the point of the lesson, and he coaches softly, echoing Yselle's advice to
Tisiath. "You'll bend at the knees, right Sare? Then flex the muscles as
you jump, up, like this." T'bay hops, hops, hops, then rests, continuing
when the late-arriving dragonet has watched Lysseth demonstrate, gotten
somewhat eager, and nudged his lifemate to proceed. See? I'm paying attention!

Leonneth tilts her head and looks at I'sai with a small croon. See I did
it! Didn't I? She looks over at A'tan who looks so dejected and realizes
she did something wrong. The weyrling nods to I'sai and stands at attention
giving him a sharp salute. "Come on Leonneth. Let's head inside so I can
check your wings." He looks at the rest of the class and lowers his eyes as
he makes his way back to the barracks. Leonneth lumbers behind him and
warbles not understanding why they have to leave the rest. He is heard
trying to explain.

A'tan heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

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

Avrieth rustles her wings impatiently, arching her neck towards Claret who
puts up a stilling hand. "No, sorry, I didn't mean that! That's next. Keep
them folded now," she instructs, and gesturing very pointedly to Lysseth,
adds, "Just like that, you see? Land lighter. I mean, bend your knees when
you hop and up and when you come down. Oh, good!" Claret exclaims happily
as Avrieth bends her knees and jumps up quite enthusiastically, flexing her
legs more carefully as she lands, if somewhat awkwardly. "I mean, was it?"
Claret inquires, turning her head in Kassi's direction.

Yselle keeps an eye on J'len and Cantaneth, but is apparently satisfied
enough to divide her attention, now turning to Sarevith. Dianneth has
ambled over to watch what her rider is doing and occasionally wuffle
possessively to make sure the weyrlings know her rider is only on loan.
Before Yselle even gets a chance to inspect the legs and wings, the green
leans down and, eyeing Sarevith's back, rumbles to her. "What?" Yselle
frowns. "T'bay, have you been oiling him properly? Dianneth says it's all
patchy over his back. That'll cause serious problems for him later." She
glances at I'sai, and tries to wave him over.

I'sai's laugh is abbreviated, but genuine as he returns to hear V'lano's
reply; when Volath starts to take matters under his own wings, those pale
eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything just yet - only watches the
lifemates' interaction, and afterwards gives a firm, equally brief nod. And
maybe it's because of not tempting fate that he steps towards the front of
the group. After a while of watching them jump, and jump, and for the most
part gradually improve, he calls out, "Halt, please!" He gives Yselle a
brief nod as well. "All right. What we're going to do next is, when I give
the cue, you're going to turn so that every other weyrling pair is facing
the opposite direction, so you won't run smack into each other. And then
you dragons are going to run straight ahead, -not- towards anyone or
anything breakable such as, oh, myself or my trusty assistants, and do the
crouch-jump-_high_-spread-the-wings thing. And then do precisely -three-
wingbeats and then land. Why three? So they don't strain themselves, don't
get too high or far to make their first landing easily, and they don't get
hurt and the others get to fly while you don't. Any questions?" With that,
he heads over to listen briefly to Yselle, but where he can still hear.

I'sai adds, "Kassima counts as an assistant for the purposes of this class.
Don't land on her either."

J'len nods to Yselle as she finishes her inspection of Cantaneth. He and
the bronze step slightly away from the others to give him room as he bends
his legs. J'len corrects him firmly as he tries to open his wings too
early. "Keep them at your side, Great Bulk!." Cantaneth complies and jumps
up, his feet clearing the sand by almost J'len's full height due to the
extra muscle they've put on with their exercises. J'len makes certain to
keep a clear image of bending his legs on the way down to absorb the impact
and the bronze manage to comply just as he settles back to the sand. He
still lands a little hard and J'len is quick to step up and run his hands
along the bronze's flanks, checking them for any strain. Finding none, he
steps back again, admonishing Cantaneth to be a bit less enthusiastic. On
his second jump up, Cantaneth puts a bit less energy into it and manages a
much more smooth landing; legs flexed well but with a bit of over balancing
that he has to catch himself with his front feet.

Kassima grins at Claret, her head-bob causing the petals of her flowers to
sway. "Very much better. Nay perfect, nay yet, but better, and she'll get
better the more she does it. Her first landing from the air will probably
be a bit off too--which isn't t'say she shouldn't *try*. Ready t'try the
air just a bit?" Behind her, Lysseth obligingly jumps again. She clears
more ground in the doing than last time, and her rider confides, "Between
you and me, Her Magnificence is having fun with this. Nay that I think
she'll ever admit it--*thankee*, Weyrlingmaster. You have m'eternal
gratitude for m'lack of messy, squished death."

Tisiath keeps hopping, wings still closed, though he flips at the edges
with them one or twice as if considering opening them anyway. "Tisi, you
heard her." Lani reprimands as she sneaks a glance or two at the others,
though mostly watches her stout blue jump, jump, jump until I'sai calls for
the halt.

Yselle is frowning, but for a change, not /at/ I'sai, or at least, it
started before he got here. "We've got a problem," she says. "Sarevith's
back is dry and patchy. It's /way/ too far into weyrlinghood to pass that
off," but then he knows that. She glances at T'bay, assessing, whilst she's
usually quite relaxed with the weyrlings, she's getting better at not
passing things like this off. "You've already punished him for the other,
and I don't want to step on your toes, but I think this needs separate
attention. He'll still be able to fly with it, if the rest of his
inspection's okay."

T'bay gives Claret and her mentor a warm smile as Avrieth begins to master
the upward motion, calling a "well done!" to accompany it. Not that he
knows, and his own form in jumping to demonstrate for Sarevith is quickly
corrected by one of the circulating assistants. "Oh, er. Sorry." Winded, he
is panting when Dianneth, formerly most ultimately adored Dianneth, points
out his flawed oiling pattern. Sarevith quickly turns his head around to
evaluate his own back, chasing his tail for a moment while he tries to get
a good look, all the while crooning worriedly. T'bay just chews his lip
furtively, "Sorry? I'll do better," he mumbles, waiting for the latest in
the string of extra calisthenics to be assigned.

Emilly sees that Yselle's got J'len and T'bay firmly in hand and slips over
by Lanisa. Sionath, unwraps herself slightly from the sleepy pose she'd
adopted as her rider approaches. "Hey ... how's Tisiath doing there with
the jumping?" she asks with a smile. "He's looking like he's got that part
down pat from where I was standing." A wink is added at the end of that
sentence.

I'sai pauses to give Kassima a dry, amused bow, and then gives Sarevith a
good looking-over once he stands anywhere close to still; "What you're
going to have to do," he says finally, "Is be extra careful to oil him as
soon as he's dry when he's out of the water, and give him an extra oiling
during your 'free time' after dinner every night for the next sevenday.
We'll see how he's doing then, reassess." - "Thanks for bringing it to my
attention, Ys." And if it's not calisthenics as such, well, given Sarevith,
it'll likely mean a lot of stretching.

Volath bobs more and more meaningfully, but just before he really jumps,
the wings slide inward, smoky spars tucking closer to the bronze's sides
while V'lano cringes, then gapes at his lifemate's sudden alteration of
course. The jump is simple, deeply-bent at the knees, the landing a little
rough - Volath spans his wings again to catch air, using it to steady
himself from finding the ground with one pair of feet much sooner than the
other. "Another one?" V'lano's query is as much to the Weyrlingmaster and
assitants than anything else. For no apparent reason, Volath arches his
neck high and stares in Cantaneth's direction, then exhales a long-stifled
and much-fussy whuff.

Claret smiles happily, echoing Avrieth's excitement. "There you have it.
You've done perfectly well, for starters. I bet we get to practice that a
lot. Now you can spread your wings." Extending her own arms in example,
Claret raises them up to demonstrate the concept of height. Rumbling
lightly in counterpart, Avrieth unfurls her wings, holding them up as high
as she can, swiveling her head every few moments in Lysseth's direction to
get confirmation of what she should be doing. Following Avrieth's line of
attention, Claret wrinkles her nose in a smile. "She likes jumping up and
down? Or maybe everyone watch--Oh!" Attention wavering as she hears T'bay's
call, she sends a little frown in his direction when she sees that Sarevith
is being so thoroughly inspected. "Hope nothing's wrong," she murmurs
before her attention shifts yet again as Avrieth makes another, and
uninstructed hop.

S'fin gives the weyrlingmaster a sideways look, and then tells V'lano,
"Think you're set. The landing didn't look that good all by itself, but
what it tells us that he's learning how to adjust. And besides, -he- said
to halt." And S'fin's already survived baiting Yselle: more than that might
be pushing his luck.

I'sai steps back from the pair, then, and reminds the class as a whole,
"Face opposite ways - run - crouch, jump high, spread your wings - _three_
wingbeats, land! Go for it." And, even as he moves to where he can better
watch Volath, he glances over his shoulder towards Tisiath for a long
moment along the way.

Kassima bows back at least as deeply in full formal mode, one hand kept
behind her back and all, and if she manages to keep a straight face still
the whirl of blue in Lysseth's eyes does nothing to conceal the pair's
amusement. Straightening, the human half flashes T'bay a smile back that
has much of sympathy in it, spares an interested glance for Volath's
progress, and twists back to watch Avrieth. "Methinks you're ready," she
says, though with a meaningful look towards Avrieth: don't think she didn't
see that hop. "Go ahead; face thataway, and when you're sure--*both*
sure--of clear space... if'n you like jumping, Avrieth, you'll *really*
like this." She lowers her voice to murmur, "Something about patchy hide,
methinks. Mayhaps you and he can commiserate over the extra oiling later."

Yselle nods to I'sai, registering the thanks, if not necessarily smiling
like she may have done not so long ago. "Let's get the rest of him looked
at," she says, her tone brisk. Dianneth snorts, but whilst her wuffle isn't
apologetic, she does aim it where it just might muss T'bay's hair up more
than the jumping did. With no further staff discussion, Yselle's walking
around the brown, checking, feeling if she can, muttering under her breath
and checking again. "Okay, go on with the rest of them," she tells Sarevith
eventually, stepping back. S'fin may have survived so far, but the day
isn't over.

Lanisa starts a little, not having seen Emilly approach as she keeps an eye
on the others. Possibly a glance bacK to T'bay as well, "He'd like to try
with his wings open, but he's fine. Yselle said to wait for... the
Weyrlingmaster's say." Course that's when the next set of directions come
along and she nudges Tisiath to face round as requested for the next step.

S'fin does get further out of her immediate vicinity, though, glancing at
Kassima and evidently deciding she might be even more dangerous before
moving to take care of a weyrling on Emilly's other side.

Emilly catches I'sai's instructions to the group and nods at Lanisa. "And
there we go ..." she says with a bit of a laugh. "That's it ... make sure
you're not pointing at anyone else ... and lots of room ... and don't
forget, just three wingbeats," she reminds, trying to be brisk, but only
winding as friendly as usual.

T'bay stands very still as Sarevith is inspected, as if he had been called
to attention and wished to encourage good behavior on the dragonet's part,
and almost a genuine grin of relief comes over his features as the logical
consequence follows. Oiling! "Yes sir!" he pipes, his voice a bit high with
renewed enthusiasm, which only redoubles as Dianneth restyles his hair.
"Thanks. I'm sure it's for the better, but sometimes, Sare's all hide, you
know?" Sarevith, delighted to have mostly-passed inspection, joins the
lineup, boinging almost in place to test his muscles, tips of his
blue-tinted wings tucked tight while he maneuvers into place.

"We hadn't practiced yet," V'lano retorts before thinking. After thinking -
it takes him all of a half a heartbeat - he snaps off a saltue to S'fin and
adds, "Sir, but sorry anyway, sir." The grin that follows is shared only
with Volath, who, his consideration of Cantaneth complete, straightens his
neck and ducks his head, putting them into a straight line along the length
of his body, making his shape as aerodynamic as a dragon of such age can.
V'lano stands aside, checking over his shoulder to make sure that his
lifemate's path is clear, then focuses on the bronze, sharing his vision of
the task to be completed.

Kassima, with all of a predator's instinct for wary potential prey, finds
this a good time to flick a grin towards S'fin. It's a cheerful grin. And
one that shows plenty of teeth. What danger, where?

Claret glares at Avrieth, though in the face of her wriggling enthusiasm it
doesn't last long. "C'mon, Av," she instructs, marching a little ways and
turning around to give Avrieth the right impression. "You wouldn't want to
squish anyone, you see. Not Kassima, or any of the weyrlings near, and most
certainly not me. That wouldn't be good at all; I don't think I should like
being squished though I've never tried being a puddle.

Lanisa doesn't seem much to notice the tone one way or the other. And only
her "Yes, ma'am." Shows at all that she heard the repeated instructions
while she tries to figure out where she should be do she's not run over by
one attempt or another. Tisiath on the other hand is on display. Rumbling
for attention, spreading wings to check his spacing as he gets into place,
the whole nine yards.

That apology's enough to mollify S'fin - somewhat - even with the back of
his neck prickling under Kassima's grin; it's I'sai who says, low, "He
doesn't want Volath injured, y'see, V'lano." Not 'Vel.' "You can give his
boots a good polish after class." - "Now go." He steps back,
surreptitiously rubbing just shy of where that scar must itch, the better
to watch Volath give it a go.

Emilly keeps a close eye on Tisiath as he moves into position. She looks
around to make sure he's got a clear flight path and checks behind her tp
make sure none of the other dragonets are going to try to take off over her
head. "Should be all right just this way," she notes to Lanisa and nods.
"He's clear to go."

T'bay watches Sarevith get in a few practice jumps in place, concentrating
his images of what needs to be corrected about the dragonet's posture or
positioning while he studies each jump. "Bend, bend," he urges, tapping the
knee, then moving clear. Sarevith obliges, landing almost gracefully from
his initial straight-up hops. "Good extension of the back legs," he
praises, before ducking his head toward Yselle, "Er, I mean, it looked like
the diagrams we saw of good extensions?" Not eager for his fellow
Lemos-born Telgari to think him guilty of neglecting his dragonet /and/
being a dimglow, he just grins stupidly while Sarevith rumbles a warm
encouragement in response to Tisiath.

Giving her wings a little flap, Avrieth follows Claret and turns herself
about, inspecting the space in front of her with great care. At Kassima's
murmured reply, Claret turns again to look at T'bay, smiling this time.
"Oh, good. I mean, bad, but that's ever so much better than some things. I
think. All ready, Avrieth?" she asks needlessly as the dragonet crouches,
waiting for Claret's next instructions.

Cantaneth doesn't seem to notice Volath's appraisal of him as he lines up
facing the opposite direction from his bronze clutchsib. No point in having
the two largest young dragons going in the same direction and getting
wing-fouled. J'len attempts to catch V'lano's eye and sends his fellow
bronzerider a grin. Here's where it finally happens for their dragons.
Cantaneth continues to fidget, his wings opening and closing while they
await word that it's there turn to go. To keep the bronze from getting a
case of nerves, J'len starts giving him silent instructions to check to
either side, spread his wings to make sure he's not overlapping with hits
neighbors, and flexing and straigtening his legs in preparation of that
all-important jump-off.

Kassima seconds ever so helpfully, "Squishing Kassima would be bad. And
squishing Claret even worse, Avrieth, at least so far as you're
concerned--admittedly, I'm torn on whether I personally agree--because
puddledom? Nay fun at all. Make sure you both check the space *up*, too,
Claret. Every time you fly." Lysseth has finally ceased her jumps, and sits
to watch with wings folded in as neatly as if she'd not just been bouncing
at all. "When you're ready, then... go! Remember: three flaps!" Three shall
be the number thou shalt count, and the counting of the number shall be three.

Yselle seems to have done her bad-weyrlingmaster bit today, though, because
she grins back at T'bay, sharing his excitement. "That's it," she
encourages, even Dianneth warbles approvingly. "Give him a few more jumps
to practice, and then pick a spot nobody else is going for - it wouldn't do
to crash - and have him try it." As for J'len, she turns to him and says
"If you think he's ready to try it, give him a go."

Volath's muscles tense, then send him hurtling forward in a dead run, wings
spanning, spars piercing the air. "Thank you, sir, I understand, sir,"
V'lano replies in a toneless mumble. He nods at Cantaneth's rider, eyes
wide with anticipatory terror. Volath's pace eats up ground until an uptilt
of the leading edge of his wings draws air in beneath them and the young
dragon bends his run deeper, closer to the ground, then hurtles off of it.
Barely high enough to do so safely, his wings sweep a powerful downstroke,
slightly uneven and sending him in a curve to port. Untroubled by it, he
beats again, better this time and raising well clear of land. His rider
counts, softly, with great weight in his voice, "Two." For the one so
anxious, so desperate to own the sky, it's enough. The bronze tugs his neck
toward the straight line he should have flown in, and eventually his bulk
follows suit. One wingbeat short of a completed exercise, Volath coasts
downward on outstretched wings and drags talons through lakeshore sand to
attempt a landing. It is not wholly unsuccessful, but does include a great
deal of braking with the foot-dragging method, making the dry sand squeal
from friction.

Claret and Avrieth crane their necks up in relative unison to check the sky
for obstructions. "I expect, if there was something there, then you would
be the one squished," she informs Avrieth. "And then you'd be the puddle
and I don't think either of us would like that very much. Now, three times
you flap, and then come down, straight away! Only not too fast, I don't
think, because then you might hurt yourself." Barely waiting for Claret to
finish speaking, Avrieth crouches even further, jumping up and beating her
wings in time, awkwardly for the first stroke as she struggles to hold them
up perhaps a bit too high. Rising and falling slightly with the following
two strokes, Avrieth strains for another. "No no!" Claret exclaims, setting
off at a run underneath her. "Three is -perfectly- good, you don't need to
do any more than th--uh oh," she drops off as Avrieth listens to her and
plummets the short distance down, freezing her wings in mid-air, her legs
buckling as she attempts to bend them upon landing.

T'bay winds up somewhere in the open space between Claret and Lanisa,
facing opposite, "Here's to not being a puddle," he calls to Claret, "and
no doubt oiling's better than that bout of thicktail Berta's lifemate had
last afternoon." A shudder and a headshake, "Talk about ick." He hastens to
Sarevith's side, then grinningly supervises a few more directly-upward
jumps with the blue-tinged wet-sand brown wings open, reflecting lake and
lakeshore sand in their depths, but not beating. Sarevith answers
Dianneth's warble with a bugle, celebrating the progress of the group,
which echoes until he's distracted by T'bay's urging him to copy the
pre-run crouch of Avrieth. The desert brown is eager to do so, his one-day
rider nearby, though both take on expressions of worry as Avrieth rapidly
meets the ground.

I'sai's narrow glance assesses Volath's flight with the same cool
detachment as ever, if lit likewise by anticipation - when he glances away,
it's only to meet Taralyth's swift-whirling gaze, and back - and when the
young dragon lands, he says only, "Didn't get all three in, no, but he
managed the landing - better safe than otherwise. Let's go over, see how
he's doing, check over those talons; he'll need wash and oiling between
them particularly, after." And if -Taralyth- notices Avrieth's sudden
freeze, and pale eyes flick over thereafter - they're forced to return to
the task at hand; others are closer, and capable.

Kassima murmurs to Claret, purposefully keeping her voice low, "That, and
dragons have been known t'go *between* suddenly when faced with a collision
they didn't expect. Alternatively," more audibly, and considerably more
light, "she might get beaned in the head with a fire-lizard, and how could
either she or it ever live that down?" She steps back to watch Avrieth make
her ascent, nodding approval of the first stroke, the second, the third,
the--whups. Wince. "Nay quite the ideal landing!" she calls as she runs
after the pair, her limp more noticeable at that gait. "How does she feel,
Claret? Joints all right; any muscles feel strained?"

Tisiath rumbles brightly in reply to Sarevith, settling in as Lani merely
says another "Yes ma'am." In answer to Emilly. But her glance goes
elsewhere, checking maybe before she whispers, more to herself, and her
lifemate than anything, "Okay Tisi, you can do it." And that's all he's
been waiting for. The stout little blue sets off and a run that might not
seem as graceful as the leaner members of the clutch, but none the less,
covers the ground well as he bounds along. Another, "Come on Tisi." from
Lani, and the blue makes one more bound, gathering into a crouch as he
comes down and jumps with his wings almost fully extended. As he clears the
ground, you can hear Lani count along, quiet, but our loud still, as the
wings are employed, one, two, three times before Tisiath settles into a
mini downward drifting glide that wobbles just a little from side to side
as he tries to hold steady with this new sensation. And now Lani's
muttering, "Legs, legs, legs. Come on, Tisi, bend them..." The blues a
little slow to respond, so busy trying to get the hang of the other, but he
does get them mostly in place to land with a clumsy hop/bounce before
warbling to all his success.

Yselle offers T'bay a cheerful, "Good luck, remember, /three/ flaps, only
three, then glide down. It'll be enough for a first go, and be /careful/,"
she eyes Claret's descent, taking a step or two that way before noting that
another weyrlingmaster has headed over, and so, turning her attention back
to Sarevith and Cantaneth. "He can do it," she tells T'bay.

S'fin, seeing some of those others with their hands full, takes off after
Avrieth likewise - even though it means daring Kassima's vicinity. While
the greenrider asks the pertinent questions, he looks Avrieth over, then
reaches to touch those muscles if she'll let him without bothering to ask
permission first.

Emilly watches Tisiath's flight closely, eyes scanning the length of the
blue and the sweep of his wings. "Nicely done ... though he'll need to
practice getting those legs under him better to avoid injuries on landing,
Lanisa. Have him come over for a check ..."

V'lano's turn for running like the wind, or as best an imitation of it as
he can manage. He follows his lifemate's path, small steps dashing divots
into the sand between the larger ones left by Volath, then in the unmarred
space where the bronze's path sailed into the air. Soon the pair is
reunited, the young man's hands upraised to offer a cradle the ever-growing
great head of the bronze. Volath arches his neck and, muscles shivering
still, bends to place his muzzle into that caress. "You did good," the
weyrling tells him, summarizing I'sai's grade of the bronze's performance.
"Did you sandburn your knuckles? Pads? We'll oil them smooth tonight, I
promise." A quiet pause, and V'lano impulsively puts his forehead against
the dragon's chin. From each, a shuddering breath escapes; in each, anxious
muscles are forced to relax. Finally, they turn as one to watch the
progress of others, the dragon thoughtful, the human awed.

Claret finishes her hurried steps to Avrieth's side, consternation plain on
her features, tinged with a bit of wry irritation. "Listening too well,"
she mumbles at Avrieth, laying a hand on her hide and looking up to her
eyes instead of her legs as she gets Avrieth's response. Avrieth, for her
part, seems relatively unconcerned, shifting and rustling her wings as she
folds them, looking dually pleased with herself, and curious as to what the
commotion's all about. Nevertheless, she stills obligingly as it appears
she's about to be inspected. "She says, no, she feels fine," Claret tells
Kassima. "But on the other hand, she's so excited she might just not be
noticing or something, I don't know."

Sarevith croons softly toward Avrieth, his neck extended and his eyes
shades of yellow until the pair is surrounded by capable hands. T'bay leans
upward, tugs that great head toward himself, scratches at Sarevith's eye
ridges until the color smooths out. "She'll be all right. You can do it.
See, look at Tisiath? He's upright. And Volath, way over there." Sarevith,
reassured, urged on, lifts his head high, paws at the sand as if kneading
it, checks the upward path, the forward path, then the upward again to be
sure, then lowers his head. He starts off in a clumsy-footed, uneven
overeager run, confuses the proper order of his actions and early-stretches
his wings, thereafter mimicing the failed flight of a folded aircraft as he
tries to jump midrun, one rear leg extended, the other taut, and fails.
Still running like a bandylegged fowl, he comes to a gradual slow stop,
completely befuddled about why he's not in the air.

I'sai slows to watch that pair - the reuniting, the embrace - and then
glance briefly beyond before saying, light voice low-key, calm, "Let's see
those wings of yours. How's he feeling to you, V'lano, what'd he say?"

Yselle manages, somehow, not to laugh at Sarevith, offering T'bay, if he'll
allow, a clap on the arm. "Hey, he'll get it next time," she says. "Is he
okay? How's he feeling?" she makes encouraging gestures to J'len and
Cantaneth too, as she walks over to the brown and has a good glance over
the brown. "Is he feeling up to trying again? Sarevith, you need to open
yorur wings, tilt them /this/ way to catch the breeze." Dianneth rumbles.
"Yes, I know you can show him, dear."

Kassima is luckily too preoccupied with Avrieth to tear out S'fin's throat
with her teeth just this minute--but her eyes do flick his way as he checks
over the green. Maybe it's a temporary reprieve. "This is a good time
t'check her muscles," she says to Claret, "as S'fin's doing there, t'feel
for heat or aught out of the ordinary--in case 'tis just as you say and
there's something she's nay noticing. D'you know what t'look for? The
Assistant does. Watch him." And while he's studying muscles, the greenrider
bends to inspect claws.

Lanisa is already running over to hug what she can of the blue's neck, "You
were marvelous, Tisi." She murmurers to him, and Tisiath couldn't look more
pleased at the attention. Rather laps it up, this blue. It's only then that
Lani seems to remember that Emilly was speaking to her moments before, and
sheepishly she looks back to where the Aid might be before starting the
check over of her lifemate on her own.

Emilly only smiles for Lanisa's dash forward and joins her by the blue.
"May I?" she inquires, hovering a hand over the blue's left haunch as
greenrider and blue weyrling get down to the business of making sure
Tisiath is as well now as he was when he took off.

V'lano is not leaning against his lifemate's foreshoulder; rather, Volath
has nudged closer, then closer, then so close to his human that clothing
and hide have come in contact. His tail curls, looping a low fence around
the young man. "He's...uh." The dark-curled young man's head tilts a bit to
the side, as though listening; a wince proves there's an exchange in
progress. Finally V'lano manages, "He feels good. It was different than he
expected." But the bronze spans his wings for consideration, one of them
forming a gathercart-awning high over the weyrling's head.

Cantaneth and J'len both check the sky in the bronze's direct path before
J'len steps aside, fully out of the bronze's way and nods once. "Run, leap
up, /strong/ downbeat, then /only three/ wingbeats in the air before down!
Go!" Needing no further encouragement, Cantaneth pushes forward, his large
feet tearing up chunks of sand and dirt and flinging them in his wake as he
runs forward. After running a few lengths, he unfurls his wings and spreads
them out full. A breath after the sails come taut, he half-hops a bit
clumsily to bring both of his rear legs in line with each other without
slowing down, then leaps upwards and pushes downwards at the same time;
with J'len behind him mirroring nearly ever single action, right up to
flapping his arms downward and jumping upwards as Cantaneth takes to the
air. The first precious allowed-wingbeat is spent getting him some space
away from the ground. But he waits a long breath before taking the second
wingbeat, keeping his wings out taut to catch the wind and glide until he
loses a bit of altitude, bugling proudly the whole time. Then another
stretch of gliding after the second wingbeat, but less this time before he
takes the third. Obediently, he doesn't attempt a fourth wingbeat, but
instead lets his glide take him downward again. Half a length from the
ground, he cups his wings carefully to act as airbrakes and settles to the
ground with a scattering of sand. But J'len isn't running after his bronze
to rejoin him at his landing point.... because when Cantaneth took off, so
did he... jumped straight up in an exact echo of the bronze's actions and
of course landed face-first in the beach sand. As the bronze flies his
first time, J'len pushes up from the ground, covered in sand and spitting
it out of his mouth.

S'fin gives the greenrider a wary glance, but the bulk of his attention
stays on Avrieth: "There's some warmth in her shoulder," he says. "Just
here. Reach up and feel it." He steps back to make room for Claret to do
so. "She's pulled it a bit, would be my guess; no flying for the next...
ah... two days. We'll check again then and see how it feels."

Avrieth returns Sarevith's croon, giving the dragonet and his weyrling the
attention that her rider is too distracted to allow as they make their
first attempt at flight. Still at a loss to understand the anxiety, Avrieth
rustles her wings again, then swiveling her neck to inspect each of the
attending humans in the vicinity. "I don't know what to look for," Claret
replies, her forehead wrinkling as she watches S'fin's movements. "Are you
sure you're not hurt, Avri?" she asks again, though she doesn't raise her
eyes.

Kassima's smile to S'fin is sunny, sweet, and oh-so-innocent, given as she
retreats a step from the dragon. "You'll learn," she promises Claret.
"Pretty soon, too, because you'll probably want t'feel her wings a'fore and
after every flight for awhile. She did do well on the whole. You should've
seen *Lyss's* first landing--" A fond look, directed towards the dragon in
question; Lysseth clears her throat and busies herself with looking
thoroughly incapable of ever muffing a landing. Ever. Not she. Hey, look at
all these other flying Weyrlings!

Niella heads over from the central bowl.

I'sai loops thumbs into his belt and looks over that fence; "Different
how?" he asks, even as he looks up, checking with sight first before
reaching up to test for any suspicious warmth himself - not the hide, this
time, but to see how easy that stretch goes, check for any pulls. "Larger
dragons have it harder," he mentions, "More mass to boost, greater
likelihood to strain."

Yselle turns her attention momentarily from Sarevith to watch Cantaneth and
his flying. Her eyebrows arc. "J'len," she says, a little stiffly, turning
to nod at T'bay and Sarevith before heading over to the bronzeling, "Are
you sure that's the /first/ time he's done that? I've noticed he's bulking
up fairly quickly." She looks stern.

T'bay watches eagerly, leaning toward the direction of Sarevith's run. By
the time the dragon is waddling back toward the group, the
not-quite-as-round youth is smothering laughter to be polite, grinning at
Yselle. "He's okay. He's bewildered." Sarevith seems to be giving Dianneth
some attention, mastering what he missed via interrogation. "He wants to go
again." Sare, indignant, repositions, rustles his wings, stretches, and
prepares for a go with a pleased return bugle for Avrieth's croon. Much
more deliberate and controlled steps carry him, this time, his wings
opening, tilting back and catching the wind as he jumps. Momentarily
stunned, he forgets to flap, but his jump is high enough and his wings
spread and angled well enough that it sustains him. He gets in the three
fast wingbeats, gliding forward and almost getting control of himself
enough that he's clearly considering a fourth, muscles along his flanks and
back twitching, but instead, he restrains the impulse, coming in for a
sand-spreading rapid-approach landing which is only tempered by a sort of
reflexive self-preservatory backwing motion, Sarevith coming to rest with
only a bit of a whump of a landing noise on the sand while T'bay whoops
aloud in a most unrestrained manner.

Claret slides her hand along Avrieth's hide until she reaches Avrieth's
shoulder, frowning when she feels the warmth. "How do you tell how badly
the muscle is pulled? Hey, stop that," she admonishes as Avrieth shifts
impatiently beneath her hand. "You can't fly for two days, now. No
opportunities for collision with firelizards, and I guess that's a good
thing, if it would be so hard for you to live down." Avrieth's response to
this is a disapproving rumble and another rustle of her wings as if to say
she's perfectly fine, and ready to give it another go. "Ought I to be
feeling her wings now, too?" Claret asks, turning her gaze away from
Avrieth to Kassima.

And just to show just how unbiassed she is, Dianneth lets out a pleased
bugle for the brown dragon. As Sarevith lands, she does her own, much more
professional version of the short flight, landing near him, and sniffing
him in a companionable manner.

"Harder," V'lano answers, apparently without permission; the bronze lifts
his head and whuffs self-importantly into the air, irritably refocusing on
Sarevith's plight and flight. The once-butcher grimaces an apologetic grin
and continues, "I think he expected something more like sailing
effortlessly leagues above the world, watching humans reduced to specks and
stuff." The poetic rhapsodic cut short by 'and stuff,' his attention is
briefly pulled toward Sarevith by a pleased rumble from Volath. V'lano
celebrates with an upraised jerk of a fist, only slightly more restrained
than T'bay's whoop. Volath raises his wings incrementally, then lowers them
so the shade provided for his lifemate and the inspector is close enough
for better consideration. Perhaps the spared wingbeat saved them from
strain, but the bronze is idly scratching at the ground with one rearpaw,
talons bathed in sand and small stones from the foot-dragging landing.

S'fin tells the green Weyrling, "The amount of warmth, the range of motion
she has... and if it's a very bad pull, chances are she *will* feel it.
Ever pulled your shoulder? Or knee? Definitely feel her wings. The more
familiar you are with 'em, the easier to figure when something's not right."

Lanisa doesn't really answer as she checks, but then Tisiath is cooperative
for his check up anyway, and Lani busy looking over his feet, one at a
time. Somewhere along the way she gives a light giggle as she herself moves
around to the far side.

Kassima nods agreement with this, flowers bobbing. "At least the grounding
will give you more time to work on your straps," she offers with a rueful
grin. "If'n that can be called a bright side. But don't you even think of
pushing it, Avrieth, even if'n you feel all right now!"

"Hear, hear," S'fin seconds a touch dryly. "Best get back to the Barracks
now, both of you. Ask for numbweed if it starts to bother her... and I seem
to remember something about an extra oiling due, too."

Niella shuffles into the area, having forgotton that there was anything
going on at all. She tended not to pay a terrible amount of attention to
what the Weyrlings were doing. They truly didn't affect her in any way,
other than being people she tended to avoid. She ducks suddenly as she
notices where she is, and looks arther....irked about it, to be honest. She
ducks as one of the weryling's takes off, and hits the ground. A set of
tools rolls from her hand, as she looks around. She mutters something,
probably unkind.

Emilly runs her hands over Tisiath's haunch then looks up, asking, "Please
have him stretch out each area you're checking .. including wings to be
sure he hasn't overworked anything, Lani ... looks good so far over here
..." Then she chuckles. "Yes Sio ... he's a handsome little blue."

"Eh, he'll get to that," I'sai says amiably enough, looking beyond likewise
as Sarevith takes wing - "Thanks, Volath." Testing, then walking around to
test some more with a cool, quick touch, he pauses in the other side's
shadow. "That paw, though. Would you turn it over, please, so your V'lano
can take a look at it. V'lano, you've seen a runner shoed? Like that."

The blonde girl, the one whose ponytail had recently been chopped off,
looks hurt at Niella's comment. The assistant calls watchfully, "Careful.
This is practice area. Wouldn't want you squashed on accident," and then
reassures the blonde.

J'len is in the middle of trying to simultaneously stand up from his
completely undignified face-plant and stare wide-eyed at Cantaneth as he
comes in for his landing when Yselle walks up and questions him sternly.
His eyes come back into focus on the here-and-now with an almost audible
*snap* and he looks up at her and shakes his head in protest. "Nay,
Weyrsec... Assistant Weyrlingmaster," he slips a bit in titles from the
shock of the question. Cantaneth, meanwhile, has turned to face his
clutchsibs again and raises his head full-length to bugle loudly at what
they've all just done! J'len makes it to his feet and is clearly caught
between wanting to join the bronze and needing to explain their innocence.
"He's not so much as left the ground before today, I swear it on his shell!
He's just been paying close attention as other dragons take-off and land.
And..." here he quiets a bit, looking down at his feet briefly before
meeting Yselle's gaze again. "We've been doing extra runs and drills and
such. Things like practicing how he needs to hold his wings and getting a
good, strongg downbeat while holding onto a rock so he wouldn't take-off by
accident." He might continue in that vein but he manages to gain a bit of
self control and closes his mouth, standing at a slightly pained attention.
Pained more from the embarassment of his face-plant and getting dressed
down at this of all moments.

Claret reaches upward toward Avrieth's wing to start running her hand along
it, but falling short she steps back, waggling a finger at Avrieth. "Hear
that? Absolutely no trying to push it." Ducking her head in a nod to S'fin,
she remarks, "Oh, yes, there's that. C'mon, Av. Let's go back for an oiling
and a good look at you. And soon you'll be right as rain." Heading off,
Avrieth follows Claret's deliberately slow place with reluctance, giving
the remaining dragons a little bugle of goodbye.

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

Lanisa glances Emilly's way, but with Tisiath between them now, she merely
pokes the blue's shoulder. A short of you heard her, comment, while she
replies, "Yes ma'am." She's apparently getting better at that anyway.

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

T'bay continues his whooping all the way across the sand until he reaches
Sarevith's side, making better time than the same boy as a candidate ever
could've. He grins as Sarevith puffs his barrel-chest proudly for
inspection by Dianneth, then cooperatively opens his wings for examination
by one and all, returning yet another triumphant bugle to Avrieth's and
Cantaneth's.

Kassima salutes after Claret and Avrieth's departure, grinning at the
overheard words with a certain reminiscence; the grin turns too-sweet again
when turned on S'fin just prior to her walking back to where Lysseth
sits--and a bit beyond, craning her neck to regard this pair and that with
bright-eyed interest. She ends up not too far from her second mentee and
settles in to watch, wordless as yet.

Yselle folds her arms. "If you need extra drills," she says, unbendingly,
"I'sai or I or one of the other weyrlingmasters will supervise you.
Injuries this early in a dragon's development can lead to permanent
problems later. We haven't been training with rocks because of the risk of
strain to your lifemate." Then, a little gentler, "How's he feeling?"

"I have? I mean, oh." Volath lifts the worried foot and outstretches his
leg a bit so he can stretch the talons upward and out, turning the pad side
up as best he can. V'lano frowns and stares at the dragon, then - answering
some silent order - circles slowly around to the Weyrlingmaster's side and
the upturned paw. The appendage in question is bathed in sand, some of the
grit having worked into tender crevices between toes, and a few gravelly
bits cling in the creases where foot-muscles make much-worked lines.
Understanding registers on the youth's face. "I clean that, and oil it - or
does it need - ?" The young man puts in a gulp in place of the word
'dragonhealder.' The dragon barely registers this conversation, or even the
interest in his foot. He's watched most of the other weyrling dragons fly,
a few of them flop, and attended somewhat to those of their riders he finds
more interesting. A green-whirling gaze takes in the tool-spiller, then
moves on to abstract appreciation of the lake's glinting surface.

"All of that," I'sai says, not without a certain dry sympathy; "If it turns
out to hurt him, later, a bit of numbweed wouldn't go amiss. If you see
ichor, even just a green smudge on the cloth, then yes, a dragonhealer - "
if nothing else, so they can give him a talk in their turn - "But they're
not so bad. Kindre, Kena, even Saskia," there's a bit of a smile, there. "A
good swim in the lake might even clean him out, and it's not as if you
didn't have him to oil again anyway. Why don't you go do that, maybe some
of the others'll want to keep you company, and let one of us know if you
need anything after; he'll be fine."

Meanwhile, so that he's not forgotten, the chatty weyrlingmaster who's just
sent another pair back to the barracks for a good oil down, waddles over to
T'bay. "Oh what a lovely dance," she enthuses. "Now, dear, how's he
feeling? How're those wings of his? And his legs, mustn't forget those.
Dear me, what a sight, I remember when my Genth flew for the first time,
fell right /on/ his wing, but, luckily, he only flies a /little/ crooked
these days."

Kassima cranes her neck to peek towards Volath's foot, and slants a
moment's amused look to the Weyrlingmaster: Saskia, indeed. "Good show,
Volath," she tells the dragon himself. "Good flying. Or so Lysseth tells
me." After another quick look about, she remarks to no one in particular,
"All of 'em seem t'be faring pretty well, and--oh, dear." That's as her
eyes fall on the woman who's just joined T'bay. Under her breath, "Hope she
isn't from Lemos too. I really don't want t'find out what streaking he
might have done as a baby."

T'bay, in an imitation of the tasks of the others post-landing, has set
about attempting to inspect the brown dragonet from eyeridges to tail,
feeling with his hands all over for warm spots or for what else he isn't
sure, but hoping damage would be evident if he felt it. When the enthused
one approaches, he looks rather grateful for the guiding questions, and
moves his patting down motions to the indicated areas of wings and legs.
"He seems to be all right. He's much more certain he got into the air this
time. He maybe landed a little suddenly--the way he moved his wings
strangely like that, does that hurt them? Should I check? I mean, he
doesn't feel like it hurts, but I want to be sure." Chatting right back at
her in a bubbling cheer, T'bay leaves little room for her to get words in
edgewise and is oblivious to the rest of the world around their little
patch of sand. Sarevith just holds himself up on his back legs, allowing
for thorough beautiful blue-tinged wing inspection.

Emilly continues her insection of Tisiath, hands as gentle as eyes are
sharp to spot aby problem areas."How's he say he's feeling, Lanusa>"

"I don't know if I like the way you say 'even Saskia,'" V'lano grins,
reaching out to brush some of the most loosely-attached stones from the
foot. This attention is enough for Volath, whose leg twitches with
suppressed irritation or - could it be? - ticklishness and retreats, the
foot headed for the gritty ground again. "Sir. Maybe Kindre or Kena. But a
swim would be good, and ease us some - thank you. Excuse me, sir?" The
weyrling moves around the dragon's bulk again, ducking under the bronze
neck to walk back into the fenced-off area in the loop of the tail.
"T'bay!" This is hollered not quite at the top of the lungs with a grin and
an upraised arm in accompaniment. Again, Volath whuffs, his services as an
attention-getter apparently forgotten.

J'len looks chastised at the reprimand, then at the question about
Cantaneth's condition, looks up after a second with a suprised look. "I...
I can't tell. I can't feel what he does right now." Then he realizes that
he completely missed his bronze's first flight, instead spending the
moments inhaling sand and answering Yselle's questions. When he lost the
normally iron-strong connection with Cantaneth, who is right now walking
back to rejoin his lifemate, he can't remember, but he swallows the
disappointment and looks to Cantaneth, then to Yselle. "What do I need to
look for, Assistant Weyrlingmaster?"

"Long story," I'sai says rather wryly, his nod excusing them in turn; he
turns back, checking on the others, Sarevith and Tisiath among them.

"I'm /sure/ he won't have any permanent damage," the bubbly one chatters as
she puts her hands on the brown, if Sarevith will let her, "He'll almost
/certainly/ fly again. Let him tell you how he feels. Any aching? Strain?
Can't move his legs or wings all of a sudden? Talons snapped off? Don't
worry, they regrow - unless they've come right out. Or maybe they still do
then."

Niella looks at the pretty chap haired girl, and shakes her head. She
collects herself tother, and looks with an angry glance at the assembled
weyrlings. "Taking up all the space" she mutters, and starts to walk
quietly towards the lake. She doesn't have any proper care for staying out
of the clumsy weyrling's way. She looks over her former companions. She
wonders why they never talk to her, even any more. She glances over all the
dragons. Still beutiful, she can't understand that she's standing here, and
not there. A single tear drips down her cheek, as she heads in the
direction of the lake

"He says he wants to go again, ma'am." Lanisa replies, "And don't worry.
I've already told him no. But he insists he's fine." She's most likely seen
the routine before after all, so she just gives a grin in passing as she
pats the blue's neck and glances at the others.

After surveying the young bronze one more time, Kassima grins, tucks hands
into pockets, and heads back to her dragon, who so-obligingly shifts into a
lounge so that her rider might lean back against her side as she sits.
Which Kassi does, the better to stretch out her legs and watch the Weyrling
pairs that yet remain.

Yselle frowns at J'len, "Take a deep breath," she says. "And wipe the sand
from your face. Now, I want you to pay attention to him, touch him if it
makes it easier. Let him tell you, feel from him how he feels. Let's go and
check him over together," and she heads off, waiting for him to follow, so
that she can show him how to check for strain and swelling of the wings,
and later, if Cantaneth will lift his legs, the legs and feet.

I'sai stays well out of that bubbly assistant's range - he must've selected
her, but there are times and there are times - pausing by Tisiath in his
turn. "Exciting?"

Emilly completes her once-over of Tisiath and pops around his side to grin
at Lanisa. "That sounds familiar, yeah," she says amiably. "I want to go
-again- Emilly!" she mimics her interpretation of Sionath's mind-voice, as
impossible as that might be. "Pssh ... she barely listened to me when I
told her no and she was already running for another leap before I could
hold her back." She lifts both shoulders. "Dragons are meant to fly ... we
just have to be careful and help them et there, right?" She offers her hand
to Tisiath for a scritch rather than the pokings and proddings of inspection.

T'bay moves to the side as Sarevith settles down a bit, the dragonet
allowing himself to be inspected thoroughly. "He seems to feel all right,"
he comments, after a moment's pause for thought. Sarevith tests by
stretching out his wings, isolating and working first one, then the other.
"No wing soreness, but he's--we're--pretty giddy still. I'll give him a
bath, rub him down and oil him well, then we'll have a better idea. He'll
probably feel the strain then." Momentarily distracted, Sarevith croons at
the solitary figure moving toward the water. T'bay lifts his voice, calling
to her, "Miss? Niella? Is that you? Sarevith says you dropped your things,
I think? He thinks? You missed something, over there."

V'lano's attempt to get T'bay's attention is followed by an effort at
J'len, made with similar structure: yelling of name, waving of hand. This
time, Volath is somewhat helpful, cocking his head to one side and curving
his neck to give himself a good one-eyed view of the other bronze. V'lano
moves on: "Anyone want to swim?" One small butcher's voice carrying across
a lakeshore breeze: it might easily enough be lost.

Niella glance sove rat T'bay wihtot really anything showing on her face.
"Than your lovely dragon, Tobay. I'm sure that he'll be a far flyier, and
you will all fight thread...oops, that's right, you're traiining to NOT
fight thread. I'm sure you'll find glory there, somehow." She turns
quietly, and startes tiredly at the assembled

"An oiling is just what the healer ordered," bubbles T'bay's assistant.
"And after all, if he /is/ permanently injured he may not be so bad that
you can't get a nice job watchriding one day." After satisfying herself,
she wanders off to another pair to share the special information, "When
your dragon walks like that after flying, it's not always a sign that they
were born a little deformed."

I'sai turns abruptly on his heel - "Niella. You're not to attend any
further weyrling classes until and unless you apologize. Check with one of
the assistant headwomen if you'd like to learn manners." His pale glance
sees her - dismisses her.

"Aye." Lani replies, her grin widening as she adds the title only a heart
beat later, "Weyrlingmaster. Did you happen to see him? Was there anything
specific we should have done?" Probably not really what she was asking, but
close, so close. She gives Emilly a glance and another, "Yes ma'am." While
Tisiath decided on if he wants to be scritched or admired.

Cantaneth submits to Yselle's inspection, his attention half on her and
half on J'len as the weyrling cleans the sand off of his face and returns
V'lano's wave and shout with a nod and a gesture that they still need their
own post-flight inspection before taking a swim. After a minute he relaxes
as he starts to get echoes of what Cantaneth is feeling again as he watches
Yselle inspect wings, joints, and legs for damage. The bronze is
accomidating in moving and lifting his feet and legs for the close looks.
"He says he doesn't feel any stretching, but I can't be certain if he is or
isn't since I'm still feeling my own from the sand." So he pays that much
closer attention for what Yselle is looking for so they can be certain
Cantaneth didn't injure himself on that flight.

Emilly gives Tisiath a gentle scritching, then steps away to help another
weyrling with checking over his dragon, allowing the Weyrlingmaster space
to interact with Lanisa. When the young brown is fully checked over and a
small muscle strain found, she accompanies him and his rider back to the
barracks to find something soothing for it.

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

T'bay nods to his ebullient helper-assistant, wiping his hand across his
forehead as she finally takes on another vict--er, student. At Niella's
comment, the Lemos lad's warmth turns fades to a look of surprised hurt,
and he blinks a few times to be sure he heard her right. "I'm up for a
bath, I think. And Sarevith, too," he mumbles. A few of his own steps take
him, and a whirling-eyed confused Sarevith, first toward Niella's dropped
tool, then to Vel and the lake's shimmering water. "We used to be in the
same barracks, Niella, working side by side. We're still people." He holds
out the dropped object, a peace offering.

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

I'sai keeps an eye on the others, but he does say back to Lanisa, "I saw
it. - Aye," and a hint of amusement there. "I don't have anything to add to
my assistant, beyond that. Keep it up."

Niella looks over at I'sai, looking entirely puzzled at the statement.
"Might I ask what you find lacking in my manners? I might ask the
headwoman, but without knowing what in the first shell you're talking
about, I doubt it will do me any good. Also, so you're banning me from
anywhere weyrlings are? I don't understand what you mean about Classess.
She looks over at Togay. "And giving you complements seems to have suddenly
become a travail" she says, looking hurt at Tobay's cruelty. She looks at
the carving head Tobay offers, and shakes her head. She takes it, and puts
it back in her pocket, without even a nod of thanks.

Yselle nods to J'len, "Well," she says, "I think we'd better organise some
more sensing lessons for you. It's hard, I know, with the distraction, but
you've got to manage the discipline to keep contact even through
distractions. How do you think we managed to keep our lifemates from
betweening when we were scored?" she glances significantly at I'sai, he of
the recently-itchy scar. "When you feel, check for warmth, swelling, and
pain to the touch, they're the signs that something has been strained,
sprained, or at worst, broken, although you won't miss /that/ through
falling in the sand."

With some decision made in a seemingly abrupt manner, Volath uncurls his
tail from around V'lano and daintily - for a dragonet of his increasing
size - picks his way in a careful arc around his rider toward the lake,
leading the movement toward a cleansing swim. The weyrling startles,
nodding with emphasis at J'len to indicate understanding, then starts to
lope after his lifemate. T'bay's consternation and interaction gets a
raised brow, then a frown. Again, he calls out his old holdmate's name,
following the yell with, "Come swim! Volath needs to wash off rocks
anyway." And if he'll be up all evening with the oil, why shouldn't
everyone else?

T'bay, after a moment of stunned silence, adds a quiet, "You're welcome."
Turning back to the group, he blinks, understanding about what might make
the young weyrlings need to be sequestered becoming obvious as his distress
provokes a low croon from Sarevith. "Shh. It's all right," he murmurs.
"I...I thought we were friends, that's all." Shaking it off, he moves
toward V'lano, and Sarevith follows, stepping in beside Volath and
regaining some of that buoyant mannerism of one who has just achieved his
first (albeit very very short) flight. "On our way. Celebratory bath time!"

I'sai mutters at Lanisa, "Excuse me." He heads toward the barracks, pausing
along the way only long enough to say, "The rudeness and resentment doesn't
help. -He- was trying to help. Of course not just where any weyrlings are;
classes, like harper classes, where they learn things - if you see them
drilling, if you see them instructed, _don't bother them_. There are so
many more -positive- things about which I could be talking with the
headwoman, on whose sufferance you reside at Telgar." And with that, he
seeks out Yselle's gaze briefly - taps his shoulder, corresponding to the
one on which she'd wear her knot - and heads off to escort another pair
back to the barracks.

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

Kassima tips her head back to look at her dragon: "Going t'abandon me," she
teases, "for swimming?" Lysseth's rumble is noncommital, more a 'not yet'
than a 'no,' and she gazes out towards where those still waters run deep.
At some length Kassi stands to head that way herself, alone; and though she
watches the tableau of Niella and T'bay, that's been well taken care-of,
and she offers no comment beyond narrowed eyes and a thinned mouth. "Be
sure t'let them drown you in splashes as a prize," she calls out to the
swimmers, lightly, lightly. "They've earned as much!"

J'len nods to Yselle, "Aye..." He focuses on the instruction and on
listening to what Cantaneth is feeling, the connection once more becoming
the iron-strong, hard-to-block link so he has to concentrate to feel only
the parts that are being inspected. "I feel a kind of tiredness in my
shoulderblades, his wingjoints. Not sore, but tired like he'd stayed up too
long before bed." He pats Cantaneth's nose as the bronze nudges his rider
about finishing this so they can swim with Volath, Sarevith, and the
others. "Patience, dearheart. First we make sure you came through flying
alright, then we get a dip and good scrubbing."

"Ooh," V'lano murmurs, but at what it's hard to say. T'bay and Sarevith's
willingness to celebrate their achievement? I'sai's scathing retort? The
coldness of the water lapping at the one foot he's got unshod while hopping
to pull the boot from the other one? Maybe just at Volath's thrill to do
everything, including this, first: the young bronze lurches into the deeper
water and immediately rears up, letting the lake support him while he
arches out his growing wingsails and fans water toward nothing in
particular, just for the sheer thrill of watching the droplets fly.

Sarevith is quick to join the bronze in the water, his not-scraped but
somewhat impact-tender feet reaching the water accompanied by a cheered-up
croon of pleasure. Worries of the previous moment forgotten, Sarevith is
all about the pure pleasure of the moment, repeating his fowl-type running
dance of earlier as he splashes about in the lake, drawing even T'bay into
his improved humor, indeed, a young dragonet at play.

Lanisa comes down from her post flight high as she watches the exchange
between Niella and her father. Distracted enough that after she gives him a
nod she mutters something that looked more like 'Sure da' than 'Sure,
weyrlingmaster' to any watching close. But if that's the case, at least it
wasn't out loud for once. For her part, she nudges Tisiath with a hip,
"Let's go with the others, eh? Want to swim, Tisith?" He for one doesn't
need asking twice, and Lani folds her arms across her chest as she heads
down towards the water behind him.

Niella settles quietly, watching the weyrling's play quietly. She doesn't
know just what she did to make everyone so angry at her. She tries, and
every time it seems she says the wrong thing, or does the wrong thing. She
sighs heavily. She misses having friends. Her life has been pretty much
alone since she failed to Impress. She's not really even met anyone else
who resides at the Weyr. The only one's she sees are the Weyrlings, and
they're often too busy to even talk to her. Perhaps that's led her to be a
bit resentful at them.

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.

Niella moves down the shore, away from the lake, to ensure she obeys
I'sai's instructions. She's not sure if the class is exactly over, so she
decided that moving away probably would be better. She'd kinda wanted to
talk to Tobay some more, maybe clear up why her greeting to him made him
happy. She'd seemed to have that sort of effect on people, lately. She
wasn't really sure why.

V'lano watches Volath depart.

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

Niella walks out carefully out into the Shallows.

Nodding, Yselle says, "Well that's fine, as long as he's not hurting. Give
him a good rub-down, and if you're concerned over the next few days, please
let one of the weyrlingmasters know, and we'll get a dragonhealer to look
at hi." She glances at the barracks and says, "In fact, I'm heading back
now." She smiles at him. "Good job, but keep the practices to supervised
ones?"

J'len nods to Yselle solemnly, "Aye, Assistant Weyrlingmaster. We'll make
sure to do that." He gives Cantaneth a light pat on the leg and the bronze
heads for the lake to join the other dragons already splashing there after
their first time off the ground. J'len salutes Yselle crisply, his
expression only slightly relaxed due to his string of missteps today.

Niella notes the class is concluding, and figures ths is her chance to get
past politely. She walks over to J'len, and bows to him as well. "I am
sorry if I was disruptive to you today" she says, hoping this is what the
weyrlingmaster meant as an apology. "Is there anything I can do to help
make up for my rudeness, Dragonrider?" she asks. She turns and bows to
Yselle. "I did finish that embroidery for you, Ma'am. But, on the other
side, I did finish a stole, and realized It was for Dianneth, and she was
quite adamant that she didn't want decoration. Might I offer it to you as a
bed cover.

"G'night, Ys," Kassi bids from her seat on her favorite perching rock,
casting a half-smile over her shoulder. "Class went well, heya? Great job,
by you and all the others."

Yselle grins for J'len's salute, and says, "Feel free to come to me if you
need any assistance with him." Then, on another note, "It's exciting that
first flight isn't it?" On her way back, she encounters Niella. "Well, it's
very kind of you," she says, seeming surprised. "It must have taken you a
long time. Wow, it must be huge. Dianneth won't wear it, and I feel awful
putting you through all that work," Dianneth rumbles, "Yes, dear, I know. -
I've got to go," that's apologetic. She grins at Kassima. "Thanks for your
help wingleader," she says, although she's grinning for the title. Then
she's heading off.

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

Niella bows to Kassima, and seems to be moving out

Kassima nods slightly to Niella. After a moment's consideration, she slips
down from the rock. "Methinks," she says, looking towards the Lake, "Lyss
and I are for a flight of our own a'fore sleep. G'night, you lot."

Lanisa settles in nears the water's edge. Slipping off her boots and
rolling her pant legs up enough she might put her feet in with out the rest
of her getting wet, assuming Tisiath avoids splashing her. But as she wraps
her arms around her knees, she calls out, "Night Wingleader."

Niella bows to Lanisa. "Good night lanisa"

Kassima smiles, salutes towards Lanisa and Tisiath, and heads to Lysseth,
who rises and extends her foreleg to aid her rider in mounting.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly.
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered
foreleg.

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up
dust as she takes to the skies.

You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor
to carry you aloft.