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Teach Me the Magic of Flight


Date:  September 20, 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.

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Kassi's Note:  This log starts with Kassi at the Lake Shore, gossipping
with two of her (NPC) Wingmates, and J'len and Cantaneth just ICly 
arriving; it includes many interesting things, such as T'van in tight 
leather attire!  T'bay getting punished!  M'tri accusing V'lano of 
hitting on his husband!  And most importantly, and perhaps most fun,
the third Weyrling lesson, wherein the young pairs fly together for 
the very first time. :)

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The Log:

With the still air and calm winds, it's a good day for flying. And
Cantaneth is taking advantage of it, at least for the distance between the
barracks and lake. The young bronze has his wings spread wide, the sunlight
shining through the gold-gilt sails. Below, on the ground, J'len keeps a
careful eye on Cantaneth as he walks down towards the lake with a laden
bucket hanging from one hand and a bundle of towels and clean clothes in
the other. There is a set of riding straps draped over his shoulder as
well. He seems to be ready for a full night of busy. Cantaneth begins to
glide over the water, dipping his wings from side to side as he does,
sometimes nearly bringing them into a vertical plane before he gets taken
to task by his groundbound rider.

Dianneth flies in from above.

Though Alicienne and R'huen have, by now, finished washing Kilvath and
Siuenth, the trio of Thunderbolt riders--the third of course being
Kassima--remains gathered around the shore, talking and gossipping while
their dragons swim. But the hour is late, and the brown dragon and one of
the greens have begun to swim towards shore in preparation for leaving.
"Just don't tell G'rignr *where* you heard that Amelyssan likes men in
tight leather," Kassi murmurs to her Wingmates, all wickedness. "That's all
I ask...." Lysseth surfaces with a silver fish disappearing between her
mouth, and directs a low trumpet to the new arrivals once she's swallowed.

"Oh Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassi," it's a voice out of Kassima's
nightmares? T'van, blue Faenth's rider dances across the bowl, and seems
intent on launching himself at the greerider. He's wearing leathers so
tight he must've spent most of the day getting into them. "Don't I look
just fabulous?" Is it coincidence that Dianneth is spiralling down? She
bugles bossily as she passes Cantaneth, even going out of her way to head
close enough that if he didn't swerve, they'd just miss. Well, maybe a
metre or so away, but the thought's there. She banks, and Yselle laughs,
calling, "You'll never guess where we've been." Once again, a sunburnt
nose. "Hey J'len, hi Kassi, hey Tel."

Yselle swings down from Dianneth's neckridges, and slides down her side.

Kassima notices that voice, of course. How could she not? Her shoulders
tense automatically, and before she turns away from her Wingmates, she
reaches to the knot of cloth that's turned her tunic from shirt to halter
and works at untying it. Of course, it's damp, so that's a bit hard to do,
and she's still tugging as she turns to greet T'van with a wary, "G'deve,
Te...." She trails off, seeing those leathers. Wouldn't you? "You, uh. Err.
You look like something else, certainly. Should I ask *why* you're
wearing--hey, look, there's Yselle!" Distraction! She throws Ys a 'help
me!' look along with her greeting smile; as for Alicienne and R'huen,
they're both hiding grins as they excuse themselves and their dragons and
exit the scene post haste. So too does Lysseth find it a good time to leave
the water, wading up onto shore to provide her rider with moral support.
Also, to point and laugh.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima waffles to the incoming. Or, no, wait, better idea:
throws T'van dressed in tight leathers at the incoming. 0:)

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa meeps and hides behind Trii ;)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle | T'van blows kisses all 'round.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima takes bets on how many kids T'van and M'tri will have,
now. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa sighs... How am I ever going to have my 4 if he's off
sleeping with everyone else? ;)

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Hey, what say three? I've got plenty of libido,
it's all good Lani."

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Your father had 11 or was that 13? M'tri can
manage."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima tries to figure out what the names of the four will
be. Latrine, Kalatrine, Malatrine, Alatrine? ;)

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa says, "11 ;)"

"Yssy!" T'van starts to mince. "C'mon, tell me Dianneth's going to let
Faenth catch him next time," Okay, he sounds a little sour, but he's
waggling his butt at all three greenriders, and eyeing the brownrider with
considerable interest. J'len gets a grin and a "Weyrling," from the
bluerider, who then asks Kassima "WHO likes men in tight leather?" Rolling
her eyes, Yselle slides down from Dianneth's side, and pulls off her
helmet, grinning. "Tel, you look stunning. Bet Sav'd like that," and as she
approaches the wingleader, Yselle hisses "He and Sav got together after
Dianneth's flight."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Ooh, no, wait. You could have a kid named
Satire! (And, for that matter, Satan.)"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri attempts to conceal joy.

Telgar Weyr> A'tan offers his services if M'tri's don't work :)

Telgar Weyr> A'tan laughs

Telgar Weyr> M'tri's services will work. Trust that.

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa just hides her face. Our poor kids ;)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "You're just Tel's type, A'tan :)"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "So what do we have? We have Latrine, Kalatrine,
Listerine, and Satire."

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "We could do Satine, too, like from Moulin Rouge,
which happens to be one of my favorite movies. :)"

Telgar Weyr> A'tan says, "Hmmm, might have to look into that" :)"

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa says, "We're having 5 now? :)"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "If that's what it requires to get all the names."

Kassima is carefully not watching that butt-wiggling. No, no, no. At length
she manages to get her shirt back into its normal order, and her pants legs
rolled back down; now all that remains is to find her shoes....
"Amelyssan," she supplies for T'van. "Nay me. Amelyssan. Have you met her?
Wingmate of mine; has the temper of a diarrhetic wherry? With gout? But oh!
You should keep the leathers for Sav, then, Tel. For his eyes alone. Make
sure he feels special." Murmured sotto voce back to Yselle, "Any hope of
Sav forgiving him?" Lysseth is not paying much attention to such
conversation. Assured now that T'van probably won't attempt to tackle her
rider in all that leather, she shakes water delicately from her sales, and
gives that young bronze across the way a considering, studying look.

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Not to mention the kids I'm supposed to have with
Kassi, now. And T'van. And I'm sure J'len wants into the First Annual Trii
Fest."

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa is sooo glad we'll have this all planned before
graduation ;) Not many weyrlings can say that ;)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima waves her ticket for Trii Fest! How many kids do I
get? I vote for at least four, so I can finally be the most prolific person
in all Telgar. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle has only got two. I'm envious.

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "It can be like burning man...without the
literal..burning."

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa giggles :)

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "COME ONE, COME ALL, COME TO THE TRII FEST AND
EARN YOUR KIDS THE FUN WAY!"

Cantaneth is returning Lysseth's bugle when he gets bossed aside by
Dianneth. The young bronze dips his wings, going into a shallow dive so the
green flies over him as he decides it's time to get out of the sky. He
glides low over the water, then tucks his wings and simply falls in with a
splash. J'len sets his burdens down before saluting Kassima and the otherr
Tunderbolt riders. When T'van arrives he cringes but dutifully salutes him
as well.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "D'you want some M'tri-spawn too, Ys? You and he
could have... hmm... well, if you named the kid partially after me (as
everyone should ;) you could have a Missile!"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri rolls!

"Sounds like someone with excellent taste," T'van grins, offering Kassima
an especially waggly butt-waggle. "Bet you really do like them though?
Don't be shy, Kassi-Wassi, I know you pine for me." Yselle rolls her eyes,
and snorts. "Well, they seem to get on pretty well after a flight," she
mutters back. "I think Tel misses him. He says Sav stayed a sevenday - he
might have, I don't know." She grins at Kassima's wingmates. Dianneth
meanwhile, croons to the brown and shimmies herself as if showing off.
"He's doing well," Yselle notes, now looking up at Cantaneth, her words
addressed to his rider. "You're going to love today's lesson, I think."

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa laughs!

Telgar Weyr> A'tan shakes his head and grins.

Telgar Weyr> A'tan says, "You all are crazy"

Kassima fixes her eyes quickly on the sky in an attempt to miss any and all
wiggling butts in the vicinity. "I pine for nay bluerider!" she protests.
"Nay even that unfaithful wife of mine! Leathers *can* be a good look, on
*some*, but that tight... seems a bit too apt t'cut off circulation to
important bits for m'taste, personally. You just know that anybody wearing
something like that is going t'have those bits *fall off* soon." Siuenth,
the brown, rumbles to Dianneth on his way out: woohoo! "Promising, then; so
long as Sav's sister doesn't see these leathers--oh, oh! Is it true, then?
Is this the day?" She salutes J'len in return as she speaks, and does an
absolutely terrible job of hiding her grin at his cringe.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Oh, oh, oh. M'tri. We *must* spawn. Because I
have just realized what child we could have."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "We could spawn... Kermit!"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Oh Lord."

Telgar Weyr> J'len says, "Hey, don't be like that, A'tan. /They/ are not
all crazy. /We/ are all crazy. ;) You're one of us, so join the maddness. :D"

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Missile? Tht doesn't start with K."

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "We'd need to borrow an s from someone Ys."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Well, Kamissile for long, you know. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "And of course, A'tan! Everyone's welcome to be
a lunatic. 0:) Or not to be. Whatever suits!"

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa dies! Kermit!

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Why? Why do my kids have to end up with the
horrid names?"

"What?" T'van looks horrified. "Kassi, you've turned to /women/ when you
have my gorgeous manliness at your every beck and call?" At her words, he
pales. "They won't fall off," he denies in a strangled, not quite certain
tone. Dianneth preens under the attention of the brown, and tilts her head
at him coquettishly. "You wouldn't know she'd just risen," Yselle mutters.
Still, she grins, "Waiting on the final word from His Weyrlingmastership,
of course, but it's looking good to me."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Because you're you, sweetums. *Such* a pity
that 'Lex is idle. You and he could've spawned the Matrix."

Telgar Weyr> A'tan running out of choices on the spawing. M'tri has got
them all :)

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "It's just that I'm the much coveted blooie. First
I was the much coveted candie in the mist, and now I'm the coveted
weyrling, and when I graduate I'm going to have to make a sign-up sheet for
entry to my weyr."

Telgar Weyr> J'len says, "Then there's Mellon somewhere in there."

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "I think I should be feeling used here, but I don't."

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "You thrive on the attention."

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Only on Lani's attention, but I thrive nonetheless."

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Well, then, Lani must be good for you. :) Looks
like you're in the clear, A'tan."

Telgar Weyr> Yselle imagines M'tri with a spawning card, like a dance card.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima sniffles. So what's my attention? Chopped liver? ;)

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Hilarious."

Kassima explains, patient and reason incarnate, "M'tri is m'wife." Quite as
if there were any reason to that at all. "Can you blame me? Truly, now?
*He* doesn't wear things that will make his extremities turn blue and then
black from lack of blood and oxygen, which is *nay* an attractive color for
such, I can assure you." Pause. "At least... I assume he doesn't. Probably
Daikoth would've had fits, had that happened. Right? A'course right." This
subject thoroughly explored, she flashes Yselle a grin. "Given how often
she rises," she teases, "I tend t'assume she's *always* just risen. Is is
the authority, a'course; only his t'say. Hope he'll let me spy again."

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa grins :)

Yselle giggles at Kassima. "He's your /what/? Does the weyrlingmaster
know?" she arcs a gaze towards the barracks. Meanwhile, T'van's pallor is
changing to a sickly, pasty green colour. "Got to go," he says suddenly.
"You know, make sure everything's okay down... well, down... down at Ista,
yeah," whatever Ista has to do with it. "Gorgeous as ever, Kassi," he
hastily, and not terribly accurately, attempts to kiss her before dashing
off. Yselle laughs, "You scared him, I think," she says. Still, the flight
comment has her blushing. "I think she likes the attention," she says.
Then, "I suspect the weyrlingmaster will be out soon and we'll know then."

J'len is all raised eyebrows and questioning looks as he gets in Yselle's
salute as well. "Oh? What kind of new hoops to we get to jump through?" He
lays out his bundles; dragon-washing gear to one side, dry clothes and
towels back away from the water next to the latest set of riding straps,
which he picks up to start checking while Cantaneth surfaces and begins to
swim around. The bronze seems uninterested in the talking on shore. He's
got some heavy swimming to do and that holds all his attention.

"I *think* so. But," Kassi admits, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, "I don't
rightly know. Think he'd mind? I mean, a'course 'twas married t'him
*first*, but 'tis still all right, because he's my *husband*. M'tri's my
*wife*. So they don't overlap, y'see?" Uh-huh. Because she's laughing, she
doesn't even try to duck away from that not-too-accurate kiss, getting it
on the cheek. "Hope you find everything in order, Tel!" she calls merrily
after him. "--I *live* t'scare that man. Dianneth? Oh, probably. Mayhaps
Lyss rises so comparably seldom because there's only one male's attention
she particularly cares for. Nay that she objects when other males decide
t'pay fitting homage t'her gloriousness, you understand... don't know for
sure, J'len, but I've a guess. Better make sure your straps are in good
order." Speaking of which, she stoops to pick up Lysseth's, to start the
process of replacing them on the green's dark neck.

Yselle grins at J'len. "Want to bring me those straps?" she asks. "Are
these your latest finished ones?" That's not an answer, is it? She smirks
at Kassima. "You know he's going to be bragging about how you two were
making out all day, don't you?" The whole husband/wife thing she lets pass,
probably because she's too busy watching T'van's retreating back. "Oh well,
Dianneth has her favourites of course."

Kassima protests at once, "We were nay *making out*! That would require me
t'kiss him *too*! Shells and stars and falling bits of half-flamed Thread.
At least anyone who knows better isn't apt t'believe him. I hope." She
doesn't sound all that certain, mind you. To change the subject, another
tease: "Watching that leather-clad rump, are you?" Back, butt, who can
tell? "Lyss nigh always has one favorite. There've been three, over time."

I'sai heads over from the central bowl.

Lanisa heads over from the central bowl.

M'tri heads over from the central bowl.

Tisiath lumbers in from the central bowl.

Daikoth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Yselle arcs a grin at Kassima, as if she was waiting for that reaction. "I
think you're safe, most everyone knows how much credence to give his
tales," as for the comment about T'van, she snorts. "Yes," she deadpans, "I
live to watch his butt. - Oh Dianneth's always had a few, she collects
them, I think. She always has a soft spot for those who've caught her, too,
although, some more than others, and if they've caught her more than once,
it's stronger," she smiles warmly, and offers the green a caress. Dianneth?
She looks smug.

J'len nods to Yselle, "Aye. I tested them out on the Great Bulk earlier
this morning." He picks up the straps and brings them over for her
inspection. He's been getting more together lately, so he asks, "Is this
the day we might go up with them?" Cantaneth picks up on his held-back
excitement and comes to the shore, shaking off vigorously and
rumblecrooning a question at his rider.

V'lano heads over from the central bowl.

Volath lumbers in from the central bowl.

Sarevith lumbers in from the central bowl.

T'bay heads over from the central bowl.

"Good thing," Kassi mutters, giving the strap-leather a last tug. "And I
*knew* it! Been suspecting that for Turns. Bet he's been suspecting it,
too. Funny thing; some of those who've caught her, Lyss is nigh indifferent
to--all her favorites did catch her first though. But only one's ever
caught her more than the once. And of males who've caught her more than the
once, only one was a favorite. Go figure." Lysseth does her best to look
mysterious: unknown and unknowable are the ways of greens; and once she's
satisfied that she has gotten this point across, she rumbles her
salutations to the Weyrlingmaster and Weyrling pairs as they all appear.

A'tan heads over from the central bowl.

Leonneth lumbers in from the central bowl.

M'tri mutters grumpily as he trails Daikoth to the lake shore, examining
his straps closely, as though seraching for anything, /anything/ that might
get him in trouble with them. Likely, from the way he's staring and
restaring at seams, he's finding little that may qualify. Frowning, his
thoughts are interrupted by an elated bugle from the very awake and very
hyper Daikoth, who isn't trudging but positively bouncing along. Cheeky
blue that he is.

Volath replies a smaller rumble, though not until after his human has
managed to toss off a couple of salutes. The one for the Weyrlingmaster
himself is accompanied by a nonplussed, wide-eyed, brow-raised expression,
but V'lano schools it and raises a hand, murmuring quiets to his lifemate.
The smaller of the bronzes leans just slightly that way, putting a stretch
of his upper foreleg into patting range, and curves his neck this way and
that to consider the other dragons and their reflections in the lake's
surface.

A'tan walks to the lake carrying his straps. He looks down at Leonneth and
holds them up to her and shakes head his. His hair ruffled everywhere
making him look like he hasn't sleep in days. He mumbles to himself and
shakes his head, "I can't tell Neth with you moving." He frowns as Leonneth
nudges him almost knocking him over.

Yselle glances over at Cantaneth, assessing. "Think he's up to it? He
hasn't tired himself out with all that earlier flying and now swimming has
he?" she offers a gentle smile, "As soon as I-the weyrlingmaster okays you,
and... yes, the weather's good. Well if he says it's okay, yes today's the
day you'll be flying together," she frowns over the straps, muttering, "Hm,
they'd /look/ better without so much blood, and if you put any more
stitching in, they'd chafe. Better put some padding in anyway just in case,
but /after/ the class. Not so bad it'll interfere with /this/." She gathers
the entire length of them, looping, examining closely, and only after a
long time looking up and saying, "I'll pass these, with that caveat, if the
Weyrlingmaster clears you for flight. Hope you haven't been doing any more
rock practice?" she arcs an eyebrow. Kassima is offered, belatedly, a
shrug. "I don't think she'd settle for just one. It's the way she is."

I'sai casts a wave Lysseth's and Kassima's way, at that rumble - and keeps
walking towards the lake in the crisp late-afternoon sunlight, enough to
nod to Yselle upon seeing her already at work, and then intercept S'fin,
who's carrying a good-sized sack; the bluerider talks briefly to him, and
he nods. "Well enough." He looks over the assembling line, his mouth set,
yet not precisely a frown.

And Tisiath bounds right along behind as the slightly smaller, stocker
member of team blooie. Guess that makes him the side kick, if you go by the
natural order of things. More likely he just doesn't want Daikoth to hog
the lime light be cause -he's- here too. With an amused shake of her head,
Lani doesn't bother to keep up. She'll get there in good enough time on her
own without dragging her straps on the way. "Should have made him carry."
She says quietly before sending off a salute to the riders all as she takes
her place in line.

T'bay trot-jogs to keep up with Sarevith's rapidly-lumbered entrance, the
motion coming more smoothly though he is still winded upon arrival. He
repeats the wave of salutes, passing them around generously, the echo of
his breath obscuring overhearing of occuring conversations upon his arrival.

Leonneth bugles happily to Tisiath as she seems to bounce. She looks from
Daikoth and then to Tisiath as she tries to fit her head into the hole in
the straps still held firmly by A'tan. He chuckle softly and pushes her
head away gently, "Not yet Neth. You have to be patient." He shakes his
head again and huffs softly before looking over to Lanisa, "How are your
straps?" He spots I'sai and Yselle and suddenly snaps off a salute to all
those around that require it.

J'len shakes his head, "No, we haven't. I was given the advice by... I'm
sorry, but I forget her name. The Assistant Weyrlingmaster who has all
those stories about Lanisa as a child? That having Cantaneth work on his
exercises in the water would be safer for him. She's been keeping an eye on
us in the evenings." He pays careful attention to her advice about the
straps, looking where she indicates the over-thick stitching. "Aye. Would
feline fur work, if it were properly sueded?" Cantaneth bugles a greeting
to his clutchsibs as they all arrive, shaking himself off quickly from his
abbreviated dip in the lake.

Kassima straightens to snap I'sai a formal salute, and to return Weyrlings'
salutes with equal crispness as they're given. There's a grin and wave for
the Weyrlingmaster after, though, and a sideline grin too for Yselle.
"Whatever works. Lyss seems content with one only--so long as 'tis a *good*
one." But the time for such chatting is coming to an end, and she excuses
herself to head--with Lysseth--on closer to the Weyrlings, particularly
V'lano and Volath. "Afternoon, mentee--think you're ready?"

I'sai calls swiftly over to Kassima - the usual sort of thing, it seems,
the initial mentorly check for an assistant to assess after - and then tugs
out a good-sized hunk of leather from the strap S'fin holds. Leather for
strap-making? Likely not; not being cut into strips isn't a problem, but
it's too patched to hold. He takes it from him and heads for M'tri. After a
grin to Daikoth, he tells the young bluerider very seriously, "Take this."
And he thrusts what turns out to be a riding jacket at him, a shabby
hand-me-down riding jacket, but a jacket nonetheless. "Wingsecond." The
oval badge on the jacket depicts a triangular glacier-topped mountain based
in sunrise's lingering purple shadows, with a warm blue sky as backdrop;
from the glacier, a single drop of silvery color is white melting into a
lake's mountain-reflecting blue.

M'tri falls back into a position in line beside Lani after dropping his
salute, letting Daikoth prance to and fro, because he has a sidekick. And
he's just that good. "Daikoth, stop making a fool of yourself," M'tri
mutters. He looks more than a bit bewildered as I'sai thrusts out that
jacket and assigns him the position. "Wha--?" Daikoth is just more thrilled
though, and he stops making a fool of himself indeed to make a fool of his
rider, poking at the jacket and wuffling Trii's hair. "Ooookay." Blink.
Blink blink. The weyrling leans over carefully to say, "At least this one
is real."

"Ready for...?" V'lano hefts straps from one shoulder, the many-parted
leathery bits draping into the crook of his elbow and over both hands as
patting Volath's leg is left off for holding the gear out for presumed
inspection. Slow to catch on, perhaps, he muses softly, "They're hard
enough to carry around. Must be part of the test that we can bundle them up
well enough." A wan smile is offered the greenrider, but hesitant pride in
the eyes softens the expression. Volath stretches, muscles shivering along
either forehaunch, distracted by the wind and Lysseth's approach.

"It won't last forever," I'sai says, half warning, more likely reassurance.
"Icemelt. Don't worry about it tonight, but tomorrow you and your
wingleader - and the other 'second - are leading dawn drills." At least, in
name. With that, he heads over to similarly tap the young know-it-all
brownrider Doralle as wingsecond, and from there, he walks to Yselle and
J'len with S'fin following along. "How's he look?"

Yselle hands J'len back his straps, "We've some padding in the barracks,"
she says. "Best to use that, some of the dragonhealers study this stuff you
know, they've come up with a few options, so Cantaneth and you can decide
which you like the best." She seems unsurprised about Doralle and M'tri's
sudden elevation in rank - maybe she has insider information. She looks
around the shore, assessing each weyrling, so I'sai's approach doesn't take
her by surprise. "It'll do," she says. "About as good as we can expect at
this stage, weyrlingmaster." She doesn't try to take the straps back to
show him though, just waits for the verdict. S'fin, he's offered a
reasonably friendly nod.

A'tan nods to himself as M'tri gets the position of WingSecond. He lowers
his eyes to hide disappointment, but is happy for his friend. He reaches
down to touch Leonneth and shushes her as he listens to I'sai speak.

I'sai glances at those straps of J'len's - what he can see of them from
here - but more important are rider and dragon; he eyes them up and down,
then marks Yselle with a nod. "All right. He can fly." Another nod directs
S'fin, who passes out J'len's jacket after some rummaging around, also
bearing Icemelt's badge but with a simple weyrling rider's knot.
"Congratulations." And without further ado, I'sai heads to look over what
A'tan's got.

A'tan stands at further attention as the Weyrlingmaster comes in his
direction, "Shh, Leonneth." He tries to hold onto the straps and has quite
a bit of it draped over his shoulder. He salues I'sai again, not sure if it
is needed.

Kassima bobs her head at once, agreeing, and steps up to inspect that gear
indeed: she takes the straps from him, the better to run her hands over the
leather, study the stitching, and give this bit and that bit an
experimental tug. Lysseth's muzzle hovers just behind her rider's shoulder,
as if she'd inspect that leather too. "For flight," she answers, grinning
sidelong. "If'n these test and you're lucky. They won't get much easier
t'carry as he gets bigger, I'm afraid." Back to the straps her attention
goes, fingers fiddling with rings. "These will fly, methinks, but... these
rings--" A thought she doesn't finish before gesturing towards a nearby
Assistant, calling him over to say to them both once he's in earshot, "I
believe these rings will *serve*, but they haven't been attached straight,
and the spacing isn't quite even. This one and this are almost too far
apart, aye?"

The assistant in question takes the straps from her to study them himself,
muttering. "Agreed," he says at length, offering them back to V'lano. "They
pass, but watch it with your next set. You've done well enough with your
stitching, at least."

J'len salutes I'sai and S'fin as they approach, then tries to stand calmly
as the Weyrlingmaster staff passes judgement on the state of himself,
Cantaneth, and their straps. He accepts his straps back from Yselle and
drapes them carefully over his off-side shoulder, keeping them from
brushing against the ground. He accepts the riding jacket with a brief,
respectful nod, "Thank you, Weyrlingmaster." Cantaneth settles to the
ground enough for the straps to be set across his outstretched leg while
J'len shrugs into the Icemelt Wingrider's jacket.

Yselle watches I'sai's departure with very little expression on her face.
Then she turns once again to the group at large, taking a bunch of jackets
from S'fin. They mutter together for a moment, the greenrider a little
irritated at whatever transpired between them, and she waves a group of
weyrlings over, Lanisa and T'bay amongst them. "Welcome to Icemelt," she
tells J'len. "Best put his straps on him if you want to start flying.

Tinker darts in from the central bowl.

"Welcome," I'sai says to J'len as he departs, and when he reaches A'tan
tells him in turn, "Doing fine." Though not, 'At ease.' He considers the
younger man for a long moment, then reaches for those straps of his to look
them over, taking his time with it; he tugs on straps, assesses the polish
of buckles, pokes at a bit with a blunt thumbnail, and yanks even harder at
the seams to see if they give. "They'll do for now," he says, though he
does point out a couple spots here and there where his stitching hasn't
passed complete muster. "Put 'em on her." He half-turns to call out,
"Everyone who's got straps approved, put 'em on if you haven't already."

T'bay moves a few additional paces forward, shuffling and tiptoeing to peer
at Sarevith's hide to be sure those telltale blotches are all oil-soaked
and in the process of improving rather than worsening. Satisfied, and
reassured by a low and eager croon from the desert brown, T'bay offers a
quiet wink to the named Wingseconds, each in turn followed by a low,
innocent whistle as he strides in the direction indicated by Yselle,
calling cheerfully to both M'tri and Doralle as he passes, "First day on
the job. You two'll get to show all of us how it's done, neh?" As T'bay
approaches, Sarevith hunkers down into the sand, then shakes out his wings,
showing them off against the sunset.

"Flight - " But the assessment of his straps steals the time he might take
to add more clever thoughts about that subject, and V'lano's jaw hangs
slack while Kassima and then the assistant consider the rings in question.
"More evenly," he summarizes to prove understanding, nodding respect to the
assistant while putting his hands out to take back the drapes of leathern
straps and belts. "Thank you," is directed more at his mentor than the
assistant, and the weyrling takes a moment then to stare up at the
increasing height of his lifemate. "Did you hear," he breathes. "We're
going up." Volath, only somewhat impressed, flicks a deep-green glance away
from Lysseth to consider his rider, then primly raises up the joints of his
wings, already prepared for the application of the straps.

Doralle raises her nose into the air a little, and says, "Watch your talk,
T'bay, or it's pushups for you!" Despite the attitude she'd like to
project, however, she's blushing at the attention and the teasing, too.

A'tan nods to I'sai and takes the straps back. He moves over to Leonneth,
who has finally settled down and begins the process of putting on her
straps. He talks to himself, "This goes under here...... oh and then this
over over your head." He holds two parts of the straps in front of him
seeing to forget for a moment where they need to be attatched. Leonneth
croons as she tries not to poke him with one of her wings. "Alright, now
this goes here. Hmmmm, Neth I think I'll need to make the next ones bigger.
Or you've been eating quite a bit lately."

Lanisa doesn't waste any time in heading over to Yselle when she's called,
though she whispers a 'Congrats Trii." on her way by. Her straps still
draped over her shoulder and carefully kept off the ground. Tisiath just
shuffles around where he's left in line. Mostly trying this pose or that
while he waits.

Yselle watches T'bay and Sarevith approach, and if she glances over to the
weyrlingmaster and the greenling for a moment, it's only a glance. After
all, Lanisa's on her way too. "Are your straps ready?" she asks both of
them, an edge creeping into her tone. A glance at S'fin might reveal its
source.

M'tri shrugs in his jacket after a bit of studying of it again, then rubs a
hand along Dai's muzzle, agreeing something or other with a nod to the
blue. He's paled slightly at the fact that he's got /more/ responsibility,
but looks at his straps shortly once more. "Ready, then, I'd say?" M'tri
asks of the blue as he starts putting them on the eagerly wiggling dragon.

Judging by the way Kassi's eyes dance, she doesn't miss that slack-jawed
moment, either, for all that she may not comment on it directly. "If'n you
want," she offers, "you can look me up--or call through Volath--when you're
ready t'start your next set, and we could work on 'em together, since
Lyss's are nigh in need of replacing. Nay that m'straps are things of
beauty, but m'own Weyrlingmasters *eventually* managed t'get the art of
making functional ones through m'head. And you're welcome, a'course."
Lysseth hums a note to second her rider's approval, watching young bronze
more than young rider now that those straps are out of her range. Her
dusted pine sails rustle, unfurling slightly and then furling again, as
though she, too, might fancy flying. "Methinks you'll find it wonderful,"
Kassi murmurs, smiling at both. "But you've surely already guessed that."

J'len nods to Yselle, then picks up the straps, straightening them out and
draping them over Cantaneth's lowered neck. He climbs up onto the bronze's
leg so he can reach well enough to bring them around and back up. As he
buckles them in place, he gives each joint a test-pull, putting his weight
against them. He takes time to look at the spots where Yselle showed him
might chafe. "You be certain to let me know if these start to hurt you,
Cantaneth." Once he's sure the straps are on, he steps down and the pair
move over until they've joined the line of their fellow Icemelt riders.

A'tan clambers around on Leonneth and buckles the straps. He slides down
the other side and tugs on the noticing slight movement. He frowns slightly
and crouches under the green tightening the buckle under her body. "Yes you
will get to fly today with me Neth. I know you can't wait. All that
practice jumping and soaring a little. Your wings are stronger now."
Leonneth looks over at Lysseth and warbles happily at the larger green.

I'sai walks around Leonneth as A'tan works, assessing even while the young
rider's in progress, and the soft green hide beneath those straps, too.
He's begun to smile a very little, perhaps linked to the weyrling's talking
to himself, or rather to her, and at last he assesses, "Aye. Better start
tonight, in your 'free time.' For now, I think you can get that one buckle
a notch loosened and it'll hold; no more, though." S'fin doesn't need to be
beckoned, heading over I'sai's way and safely away from Yselle, and when
I'sai passes him another shabby but sufficient jacket with the Icemelt
insignia, this one bears a wingleader's knot. "Hope you recognize that.
Drills'll come mighty early."

"I'll have to. Just when I think I have something down - " V'lano's thumbs,
made supple from many oilings yet worn from weyrling work, slide over the
smooth, carefully stitched leather spanning irregular widths between badly
placed connecting-loops. He shakes his head, the sentence permanently
aborted, and jerks his head up from contemplation to visualize a plan of
attack for getting those straps onto Volath. The bronze solicitously lowers
his head and bends knee-deep for his rider to begin, putting out feet
awkwardly sideways to use as step-stools, all the while keeping his head
canted just such so he can watch Lysseth watching him. "Well, /I'm/ excited
to get into the air. For /someone/ it's all about whether we get to go
higher, farther, faster or not," the butcher's son remarks sidelong to
Kassima as he starts up the dragonet's foreleg.

T'bay is quick to produce his straps, unwinding them from where he'd
carefully and loosely encircled his shoulders and half of his waist
earlier, almost as if he wore the ribbon of his mantle 'cross his chest.
"Here you are, ma'am," he rapidly replies, smoothing the edges where they'd
curled over his shoulder and holding them up off the ground and out where
they can be examined. A curious glance is given to S'fin, though he curbs
it, instead grinning for Tisiath's posing and Daikoth's wriggling
eagerness. Despite his own hopes for approval, T'bay can't stifle his grin.

Lanisa nods as she stops, shifting the straps on her shoulder, ready to
hand them over when Yselle's ready for them, "Yes, assistant
weyrlingmaster." She agrees readily enough, though her gaze drifts to
follow that glance to it's source and after a momentary lifted brow, she
looks back as if she's decided not to ask and waits her turn.

Lysseth turns her head about to rumble back to Leonneth, a pleasant sort of
note; her rider glances that way too, and laughs softly. "First
Wingleader's a greenrider, huh? Always knew Is was a wise man," and there's
a definite tease in that, for all that the Weyrlingmaster likely can't
hear. "--Believe me, you're nay the only one. I'd nigh collapse and die
twitching of shock if'n anyone has the ideal straps right now. Lyss, make
sure he can see yours--" The green dutifully arches her neck and lowers
wings enough for that, displaying her straps as an heiress might display
her diamonds; and of course, she watches the watcher. "Higher, farther, and
faster, is it? Higher, farther, and faster than *whom*?"

Yselle takes T'bay's straps with scarcely a word, although her irritation
fades as she concentrates on them. "Hm, you'll want to make it a little
less padded here," she notes thoughtfully, holding them up to demonstrate.
"It's fine for today, but you're going to want them as snug as you can when
he's really high - without being too tight, of course. And..." she frowns
and picks at a stitch "... /that/ will come loose in time. Best get onto it
tonight, okay," that mild smile is on her face as she glances at her
holdmate. "Here," she offers them, and then from the pile of jackets in the
crook in her arm, she selects one, and offers it. "Welcome to icemelt,
wingrider." Grinning, she adds, "I never thought I'd be saying that to
/you/ Tobay," and that name? On purpose if her grin is anything to go by.

A'tan comes out from under the green belly and reaches for the jacket. He
pushes his hair from his eyes and then drop the jacket by accident. He
rushes to pick it back up, "Ummm, this has a wingleaders patch on it sir.
Are you sure you are giving it to the right person?" He looks at the patch
more closely as his lips turn up into a gentle grin. He nods to himself,
"Yep more drills," he says softly. He looks back up to I'sai and salutes
again. "Thank you sir"

"Would you sit -still-?" M'tri emphasizes from where he's tugging to check
the security on each of the latches. Daikoth's still wriggling, and shows
no signs of stopping, looking like an eager canine whose master's just come
home, writhing this way and that and making his rider's work very hard.
Somehow or another, M'tri manages to fix everything properly and
double-check. "You have to be careful, y'know. If you're not we're going to
get hurt," he tells Diakoth sternly, and the haughty blue raises his head,
looking insulted that the thought could even cross Trii's mind.

"Knot, not patch; patch is the same for everyone. But you're going to prove
whether you're the right person," I'sai tells A'tan, and gives him a wry
sort of nod. "Good luck; you'll need it - even more than M'tri and Doralle,
your 'seconds." And with that, he heads to V'lano, S'fin trailing behind
him, and with the bluerider's assistance offers over another Icemelt
wingrider's jacket: patchy on the elbows especially, the fleece lining
showing hide in spots, but his. "Yours."

Yselle turns to Lanisa next, the smile still on her face. Once again, she
inspects the entire length of them, testing a buckle here, stretching a
seam there, and at one point, frowning and bringing a section closer to her
eyes. "Hmmm," is all she says for that. "Lani, you've been spending time on
these," she says, offering them back. "Much better than your earlier
efforts. The seams could be straighter, and be careful - this part will
weaken much faster than the rest, see how thin the leather is just here? It
was probably a faulty piece, we get them occasionally. Careful when you
pick your pieces, and let us know if you see anything you're not hapy
with." Those straps are handed back too. She pauses, glancing over to I'sai
as if waiting to see if he's watching, and if he's not quick enough for
Dianneth's liking, /she/ bugles. "Welcome to Icemelt Lanisa," she says,
once she's satisfied, offering the jacket.

A'tan mumbles as he looks at the knot and then to I'sai. "Yes sir," he
replies softly as he shrugs himself into the jacket. He looks around at the
group for a moment, his brown eyes resting on everyone briefly before
turning back to Leonneth. He grins as he finishes checking the straps and
scritches the green affectionately. He speaks quietly, "We've got a lot to
do now. So you make sure you listen and don't get too excited. Remember all
those extra laps I had to do last time." Leonneth warbles softly and butts
her head into him. Nope she didn't have to run those laps....she got to
watch him shuffle around the bowl.

"Everyone," sighs the bronze's rider, pausing while hanging one-handed from
a neckridge, one boot stable on the shoulder, the other hand affixing a
strap through a ring that is barely in the right spot around Volath's neck.
With both parts of the strap in hand, he looks up past the dragonet's head
to the larger green example, then tugs the straps taut and belts them into
place at the next joint down. He climbs down from the leg, ready to round
about to the other side to complete the work, but halts at the approach of
Weyrlingmaster and assistant. The jacket gets a few blank blinks, then a
sudden start of recognition. "Yes," he agrees, a hand flashing out too-fast
to accept the leathery mark of status, then adds, "I mean. Thank you, sir."
Another hapless blink, facing I'sai directly then.

"You can always salute," Kassi murmurs to V'lano by way of straight-faced
suggestion, "if'n you're feeling the need for a more formal response." And
while S'fin's so near, why, she'll just grin at him, shall she? Lysseth
meanwhile watches this strap-adjusting most carefully, and any time they
threaten to go awry, gives a rumble to alert the partners to the fact.

T'bay chews on the corner of his lip as the evaluation of his straps by his
former holdmate is completed, and he even lapses in to a bashful grin at
the ribbing and use of his non-elided name. "Surely I didn't imagine it,
Assistant Weyrlingmaster," he half-laughs in return. "I'll try to do the
name well. Icemelt, have we? Not so bad sounding. Beats 'I'saiClub' which
is what I think Roberta was hoping for." This said sotto voce, he accepts
the jacket, even its worn leather coming as a longed-for prize. "Woah.
We're all official, now. Us and you too, Lani." Sarevith shares his elation
by bugling almost voicelessly, the airy sound full of uncharacteristicly
marked restraint. Thus approved, T'bay takes advantage of the stretched out
neck, toss-slipping the neck loop up and over while he then trods under and
around the growing dragonet's neck.

"Welcome," I'sai tells V'lano, and then grins just a touch, slantwise.
"Save the swaggering for after class. Although I can't say the kitchen
drudges'll give you any more dessert for it than they would've already." He
studies the weyrling for a long moment, and then his dragon, and finally
nods to them both. With that, he leaves to look over the others getting
their jackets, several still remaining in the sack, and then tells A'tan,
"Signal 'em to mount up. - Those who're approved, at least." He doesn't
wait to see the weyrling wingleader comply, instead turning back to the
rest, eyes narrowing on T'bay for a moment. Overheard? Relayed? Instinct?
Anyone's guess.

Lanisa murmurs A 'yes ma'am' and gives a smile at the noticed improvement,
but it fades to a frown as the weak point is found, "They'll do thought?
For tonight? I will watch the leather closer, aye." She gives a wider grin
then as she accepts her jacket then, "Thank you, ma'am." Another grin for
T'bay. "We are. Imagine that, eh?"

A'tan nods to I'sai as he looks over Leonneth's straps one last time
quickly. He looks around the group and smiles at his mates. "Alright,
everyone ready! Mount up!" He gives the signal and then stands for a moment
to watch the other weyrlings. Leonneth warbles happily and crouches down so
A'tan can clamber up. He reaches to the neckridges and pulls himself up and
settles down into a comfortable postion.

Yselle grinning at T'bay, and then Lanisa, Yselle says, "Strap them up -
yes, they'll be fine for now, they'll just break early, you'll get more of
an indication than that before they fail. - and then we'll get on with it.
They must be desperate to get up there with you by now." A smile for her
lifemate, a nod to the watching Weyrlingmaster, and then she's out testing
the last of the straps, handing out jackets - even a few to riders whose
straps don't pass muster. "Watch your wingleader," she calls back.

Most of the weyrling pairs comply, though some are jittery enough with
nerves that it takes them more than one try to mount up despite how they've
practiced, all in all forming a raggle-taggle line where every other
weyrling faces the opposite direction, just as they had done in practice
before.

J'len is watching the passing of the Wingleader's knot to A'tan. When A'tan
looks his way, he offers Icemelt's first Wingleader a brief but crisp
salute and a wink. Then he tugs briefly at his new/old riding jacket,
trying to get it to hang right since it feels a bit tight. Or maybe that's
just nerves. At A'tan's signal, he steps up onto Cantaneth's leg and
reaches up to take hold of the straps. Swinging his leg forward, he settles
inbetween the ridges and buckles the riding straps to his belt.

A'tan makes his way onto Leonneth's neck.

V'lano coughs, chokes, and hiccoughs softly, each antic an increasing
effort to stifle a short laugh. He takes his mentor's suggestion to heart
and manages a weak salute to the Weyrlingmaster and assistant as their
attentions turn elsewhere, then raises his hands to let the jacket's
well-worn arms fall onto his. Shrugging his shoulders into the matted
fleece lining, he doesn't get much time to luxuriate or examine that
chilly-looking badge before Volath gently exhales hot breath onto his head
- V'lano may be oblivious to A'tan's rank and order, but the bronze got the
message quite clearly. Curls slightly displaced, the youth treads around to
the dragonet's other side to finish up the strap-placing, then for the
first time uses straps to assist his ascent, swinging a bent-up leg over
the broad neck.

Overhead, a dragon swoops down from the Star Stones, nothing unusual - but
then it - _he_ - veers overhead, easing into low, steady circles above.
Waiting. Overseeing. Prismatic wings catch the afternoon light - Taralyth
for certain, then, and down below, his rider abruptly looks up and -grins-.

From Leonneth's neck, A'tan snaps off a salute to J'len and nods with a
thankful smile. He pulls the straps around him. "Alright, around the waist,
check the buckles." he continues to mutter to himself. He looks up at
Taralyth as does Leonneth. She lets out a bugle to the dragon and his rider.

Kassima and Lysseth watch that mounting keenly, the former smiling slight
approval when it's done; she seconds Yselle's command with an, "Always keep
an eye on your Wingleader, V'lano--he'll give signals that you'll need
t'follow. Looking good up there." Speaking of looking good, Lysseth looks
away from the Weyrling bronze briefly to watch a certain pair of shining
wings, eyes shining to match as she warbles an utterly shameless note of
appreciation. And gets Kassi's elbow in her side for her trouble.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Leonneth croons in amazement as she watches the
ddraon as the moonlight reflects off its wings. <<Are we going to do that?>>

T'bay tugs at the places where he'd stitched in extra padding, trying to
loosen some of it, but he'd fastened it down so securely that none of it is
easily coming free. Rather than risk damage to the straps, he leaves off
the suggested modifications for later, nodding to Yselle's directions and
double checking his fastenings before heeding the call from their fledgling
wing's leader. Missing I'sai's glare entirely, he return's Lani's cheer,
continuing the alternative list, "Also beats DungShovelers. Or ThickTails.
Or LapRunners. We were way lucky." Thus babbling, he tugs himself mostly
competently up onto Sarevith's neck, the brown helping out by offering a
foreleg for climbing and stretching his neck out cooperatively. Once the
duo are mostly prepared, Sarevith stamps his feet restlessly, excited by
the flurry of activity beside and above them.

A'tan slides down from Leonneth.

Dianneth, likewise warbles to Taralyth, smug and sure of herself, still,
she watches the flying appreciatively.

Lysseth> Leonneth senses that Lysseth's thoughts are full of prismatic
bronze and a simple aesthetic pleasure taken in watching this one she calls
her mate fly, but she can and does draw her attention away from him enough
to reply in a tumble of silver and amber: << Perhaps not so smoothly at
first, >> she says, << and perhaps not for so long. But yes, you will. And
it will be joyous. >>

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Leonneth sends warmth of green grass and still
water. <<Will you fly with us?>>

M'tri grins, taking a last, obligatory glance at his straps before swinging
himself with practiced ease onto Daikoth's proffered foreleg. Obviously the
pair haven't been letting thier free time go to waste on just straps.
Lowering himself into a brief crouch, Trii hoists upwards and onto
Daikoth's neck, strapping in with more care than his characteristic of him.
As he settles in, he allows his own glance to roam over the mounting
weyrlings. Daikoth sounds off a greeting for Taralyth as his arrival is
noted by the other dragons, before he very patiently sits still to follow
thier surveying, grunting and rumbling to clutchmates as he sees neccessary.

Lanisa gives Yselle a bright smile when she agrees that they at least do
for the day, and makes her way back to start setting them on Tisiath. "I so
agree." She manages for T'bay, in passing along the way. "Icemelt's good."
As she works on the prancing blue, holding still still such a problem at
times like this, she steals glances at the others to keep up with the class
as a whole.

Lysseth> Leonneth senses that Lysseth cannot answer that straight away; the
spill of jewels briefly stills. << I do not know, >> she admits after the
pause. << It will depend on what the Weyrlingmasters wish of us. >>

Yselle watches them all, smiling, herself now, and exchanging a glance with
the other weyrlingmasters, even S'fin. She shoves her hands into her
pockets, walking between them, as if inspecting. As she passes Lanisa, she
says, "Best hurry up, you want to be one of the /first/," there's
half-concealed exitement in her expression. /She/ remembers this.

A ringing trumpet returns - but rather than land, Taralyth circles and
circles and circles; his rider mutters under his breath, then steps into
line as well, once it seems as if all or almost all have mounted up.
Pitching his tenor to carry, though it's also dragon-reinforced, he calls
out, "All right! Just like the first time they flew alone - remember it,
that long ago? Tell your dragon: _three_ wingbeats, no more, no less, and
then land." More or less? Laps or worse. More importantly: "You'll be
-real- riders now." - "Icemelt Wingleader, cue them, and _fly_."

"Thank you again," V'lano grins down at Kassima while belting himself to
the straps, then laughs outright as one of T'bay's choicer comments,
probably those alternative wing-names, reaches his ears. He tosses a fist
of a wave toward his holdmate, his balance steady enough now to keep him
aseat while making such a gesture. Volath's turn for distraction, staring
upward at particular wings, wings pointed out to him more than once by his
rider for reasons he can never quite recall. The dragon's gazing draws
V'lano's too, and at the sight of Taralyth the rider sucks in a low breath.
"Just like that," he assures his lifemate against some unheard remark, and
strokes the glimmer-dappled neck fore of his own left knee. "But for now, a
little hop. Just to get me accustomed. Fair enough?"

A'tan shifts in a little tighter and takes a breath. He nods and then gives
the others in his wing the cue to take off and fly. He holds on tightly as
Leonneth remembers the lessons and crouches herself down to take off. She
pushes up off the ground and takes one wingbeat as she goes a little
higher. She bugles loudly, two wingbeats as she turns. A'tan hold on
tightly and turns to look at the others. She flaps once more and comes back
down to the bowl. As her claws hit the bowl floor they skid a little and
she uses her wings to catch her balance. Not beautiful, but they flew!

Lysseth modulates her warble into a low, almost thrumming croon before
finally breaking it off, though the *look* Kassima gives her probably has
less to do with that than her renewed interest in the flight of Weyrlings.
The rider folds her arms, preparing to watch--flicking glances already to
V'lano and Volath to her side, and hiding a grin of her own. 'ThickTail.'
Indeed. "Just like that *eventually*," she cautions, directed more to
dragon than rider. "For now, just the three; but 'twill be a splendid three."

Yselle does have the sense to get out of the way once flight is talked
about. There's Dianneth after all, dividing her attention between weyrlings
and the circling bronze, turning to her to bugle bossily. Yselle heads over
to the other weyrlingmasters, her own glance at Taralyth, and one for his
riders' muttering, then a smile to herself, and, looking straight ahead,
notes, "Well at least he's not bugging you about being confined."

T'bay is jostled side to side, and he sways, thigh-muscles tightening
reflexively to assist in keeping him seated. "Easy, easy," he murmurs,
hoping it might have some soothing effect on the perky sand-shaded
Sarevith. "You heard him," he repeats, somewhat non-sequitur, command-tone.
"Or we'll be real latrine cleaners, and you can't push a shovel, so guess
how you'd have to clean." That warning delivered most genially, T'bay
returns the wave from V'lano between sideshifts, pointing upward as if the
group hadn't already noticed the bronze high above. But Sarevith has other
ideas, for he's already hunkered down, shuddered his shoulder muscles, and
is ready to make a leap into the air, leaving his rider to cling to the
straps and to gain a whole new appreciation for their value.

Encouraged to look by T'bays point, V'lano spends a bit longer admiring
Taralyth's flight, obviously pleased to see his searcher-dragon out and
about on outstretched wings. Volath ripples a momentary thought of
light-and-dark approval for any of the dragons to hear, then another one
for Leonneth's short trip airborne. A few jittery strokes of his neck from
his rider and finally he prepares for takeoff, lowering his head and
streamlining his form, powerful rearlegs bent deep in readiness. "Woah,"
V'lano remarks quietly as the neck beneath him dips in a manner to which
he's not accustomed, then grins as he recognizes from a new perspective the
shape of his dragon's body prepared for flight.

A'tan turns on Leonneth to watch all his mates in their flights. His face
lit up with a grin as he gets to see the expressions on each of their faces
as the dragons take off. Some hesitantly and others like Serevith more
enthusiastically. He leans over and hugs the green the best he can in the
straps. She bugles happily as she watches the others for encouragement and
excitement. Leonneth shifts from side to side folding her wings in tightly.

Daikoth is already crouching in preparation, his haunches bunched and the
rest of his muscles rippling beneath that cerulean hide. His wings are
slightly unfurled, allowing light to catch and shine through the sails in a
brilliance of blues, waiting for thier cue, even if M'tri appears to be
reining his dragon in. Daikoth recieves his cue sooner than his rider
notices it, and only a half-second after Leonneth leaves solid ground, so
does Daikoth in a snap of wings that is purely unneccessary show. That
first, all important downstroke is even and steady, balancing him out. The
second and third are even more confident, and M'tri isn't so focused on
hanging on as he is keeping his lifemate in the three-stroke limit. So
Daikoth doesn't flap; he glides as elegant as he's allowed to, attempting
to copy Taralyth's actions much higher, spiralling neatly towards the
ground and finally landing. It's a bit top-heavy, but he was in the sky,
and he knows he didn't lose his rider, and so preens proudly. He even has
the cockiness to take a bow for all his adoring fans.

"Hold tight to those straps if'n you need to," Kassi suggests to V'lano
from below. And, "You saw that cue? You're ready? Best go!" Lysseth
half-unfolds her wings beside her, as if she just might take to the air
herself... but no. Not the time. That's later. She'll warble to Leonneth
instead, and Daikoth, and each Weyrling pair as they complete that first
aerial journey.

A'tan grins at M'tri as he watches Daikoth's display and landing. He yells
over to him. "How was your ride wingsecond? Daikoth is strong so got more
height than Leonneth." Leonneth croons to Daikoth, We flew! She shifts
again wanting to take flight again, not one for patience when wanting
something. A'tan reaches down and scritches her on the ridges, "Easy now,
we have to let the others take their first flights. We enjoyed ours and
will watch them enjoy theirs as well."

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Taralyth glitters brilliant blue, echoing
an image of lower-level sky as seen from above with the lake beyond -
wordless, but with a distinct sense of, _Watch out, world._

Sarevith springs forcefully into the air, attaining enough abrupt height to
cause T'bay to gasp aloud. Brown sails unfurl, leaving edges tinged with
blue to mingle with the air as wings beat, fanning sand beneath in his own
effort at creating a windstorm. So distracted is he by the rise of the sand
and by sharing the experience with his wide-eyed, open-mouthed rider that
he has lost count of his wingbeats, measuring several in a row while the
duo attain little additional altitude and instead hover just far enough off
the ground for wingbeats to be made safely. When the realization hits the
duo, it comes harshly and simultaneously, and Sarevith practically drops
like a stone to the lake shore before recovering and breaking their descent
with spread wings. T'bay, despite the rapture in his expression, also
mirrors a worried horror for the consequences of their travel-less extended
flight.

Lanisa's just finishing up getting her straps set as she pauses to watch
A'tan's turn. And then has to calm Tisiath down so that she might check
them again before she slips up on his back at last to fasten her straps
about herself now as the blue all but prances in place once more. "Tisi.
You'll have no energy left to fly, I swear." A slight exaggeration maybe,
but her point is taken as he settles then, crouches a little and waits for
the go ahead from his rider. For Lani's part, when she's ready, she gives a
glance about to be sure they are in the clear. Who's above, beside and in
front. All that good stuff, an then she waits a moment for something more
before she leans forward with a lopsided grins and whispers "Go!" And
Tisiath needed no more than that as he finally has release for his
anticipations. Spread winded crouch turns into a spring that rocks his
rider back in her seat. Yay straps, even if she's used to flying. And with
wing strokes slightly erratic from excitement, they rise in the sky the
required the strokes, and an start of one more before he listens and
settles into a glide back to the ground.

Yselle doesn't address any other words to the other weyrlingmasters, just
slips over to where A'tan and M'tri and their lifemates have ended up,
calling, "Okay, time to dismount. Check your lifemates to make sure they're
okay. Wings, legs, just like you did for unmounted flight, and check under
the straps for discomfort and chafing." She misses Sarevith's antics, but
Dianneth does not, growling low in her throat.

J'len keeps an eye on A'tan and when the signal to life is given he turns
his eyes forward. Cantaneth immediately springs forward, his gold-gilt
wings spread out wide as he picks up speed. Then with a bounding upward
leap and a strong downbeat he's in the air with a lunge that sends J'len's
body snapping back and leaves him trying to lean forward to regain proper
balance. One wingbeat and the pair is two lengths up, Cantaneth holding his
wings out tight to glide long enough for J'len to regain his balance and
lean forward in the straps. The second and third wingbeats are taken
quickly to gain some speed and enough height for him to enter a banking
turn. As the level out and begin to glide downward, the bronze turns his
head to one side to bugle at Volath, reveling with his fellow bronze.
J'len, too, turns his attention away from the landing at just the wrong
moment and lets out a cry of warning to Cantaneth as they come in too low.
Cantaneth tries to cup his wings and airbrake but he's too close to the
sand. He slides forward on the ground, his forelegs taking the brunt of the
force and getting scoured by the sand as he pushes upward to keep from
falling into a full-out tumble.

Volath returns Lysseth's wing-stretching with a low, throaty rumble of
anticipation. It is cut off by an intake of dragonly breath as his rider
nods, the mental agreement between them precursory to the young bronze's
sudden leap into motion. He races a few steps forward to get the speed that
will make three wingbeats all he needs, then pounces into the air with a
powerful and far more coordinated liftoff than his first three-flap trip.
"That's riiiii - " The long vowel is stopped only when V'lano runs out of
breath, the wind coming into his mouth and opening his grin wide, making
his saucer-large eyes look slightly panicked. One beat, two, a third -
perhaps Volath's counting has improved, for it's not reasonable to assume
any help is coming from the shock-dazed rider on his neck. The young bronze
backwings a little, cheating some wing-wiggles out of the descent and
making the landing less harsh for V'lano. Who appreciates it, when a full
ten speedy heartbeats after his lifemate's all four paws are on the ground,
whoops an abrupt cry of triumph.

I'sai is looking - Taralyth's looking - and he laughs into the wind of
their wings, although a few moments more he calls over to A'tan,
"Wingleader. Tisiath, but particularly Sarevith." He nods to Yselle,
already over there, and then lopes right past shocky V'lano with just a
brief look, headed for J'len. "Give us a look. Cantaneth, let's see."

A'tan dismounts from Leonneth and catches Cantaneth's akward landing. He
takes a few hurried steps towards the pair, but looks over at Yselle before
moving back over to Leonneth to make sure she is alright from her flight.
She warbles happily to him in her singsong tone as she extends her wings so
he can inspect them. "So they don't hurt. I wasn't too heavy was I?" He
asks her as he walks around looking at her legs and wings.

"You, my friend, are the biggest show off I've ever encountered," M'tri
says with no lack of affection and pride for his blue. Who is still
preening with at least as much dignity as any gold could muster up. At
Yselle's orders, M'tri unbuckles the straps (which may have just saved his
life with such an eager partner-in-crime) and barely touches the
again-offered leg as he hops to the ground, ordering with a finger point
that Daikoth spread his wings. The blue does so obediantly, and after a
glance between A'tan and I'sai, then winces at the not-too-smooth landing
of Cantaneth. Again, there's a look to A'tan, and then a nod for Daikoth.
The blue snorts as his inspection begins. "Aye, I know. But we have to make
sue you don't hurt first or it's all to dust."

Alerted by I'sai, and her lifemate, Yselle looks up from post-flight
inspection, frowning. Still, she doesn't deliver any chastisement herself,
instead, glancing now at the new Wingleader. "This is your department,
A'tan," she says quietly. "Two of your wingmates have disobeyed orders.
It's up to you to deal with it."

Kassima is already grinning even before that cry, and setting off towards
where the V-intensive pair have landed at a lope--Lysseth having more
dignity, and trailing at a stately walk. "*Very* good," the rider
wholeheartedly improves. "Very good! That backwinging, that's useful--can
make for a more controlled landing, as you might've noticed... but a bit
early for it, though. You might want t'walk wary, making variations like
that, lest you catch someone in a mood to count it as extra flaps." There's
a meaningful look towards the nearest member of the Weyrlingmaster team, as
if it weren't obvious enough what sort of someone she might mean. "Might
want t'come back this way. Couldn't hurt t'hear what A'tan has t'say t'your
Wingmates."

A'tan looks over and catches I'sai's eyes. He nods in silent understanding
as he makes his way over to T'bay. He nods to Yselle as he looks at his
friend, "What happened up there T'bay? Saravith took too many beats and
could have been hurt. I've assigned extra laps for you before drills in the
morning."

J'len wastes no time in unstrapping himself and vaulting down from
Cantaneth's neck; his concern for the pain he felt echoed down their link
causing him to send decorum to the wind and clear the distance from neck to
ground in a single leap. Then he's kneeling between the bronze's forelegs,
trying to tell both from looking and Cantaneth's mind just how bad the
scraping is. When I'sai lopes over, he moves to one side and indicates the
places just above the first joint of each foreleg where the hide has been
scraped in places.

Kassima adds, "And examine his wings and muscles, while you listen. Doesn't
look like he did aught that should've caused a strain, but 'tis hard t'be
sure, sometimes. Growing wings can be fragile."

Emilly heads over from the central bowl.

I'sai crouches - looks - and assesses, glancing up from Cantaneth to J'len,
"He'll be fine. Need help calming him? Get 'im over to the infirmary,
_walking_, and they'll likely have you wash it out, tell you to be careful
with flying for the next few days, and shoo you out again."

T'bay sits guiltily astride Sarevith, hoping against the unlikely that he's
been unseen, but that doesn't last long, as displeased sounds from Dianneth
indicate otherwise. "Sorry...we, uh, were distracted? I forgot to pay
attention to..." He leaves off his lame excuses to A'tan, his voice
trailing into the air, hangs his head slightly, though he does scratch
Sarevith to soothe his worry-wide eyes. A moment later, flight-triumph
fading, T'bay slides to the ground to begin the post-flight inspection, his
mouth first opening in preparation to protest until he recalls the new
ranks within their order. "Yes Wingleader," he agrees stiffly, stifling the
groan, all the while guilty until his attention is drawn by Cantaneth's
landing, a worried frown then supplanting his self-pity.

S'fin follows T'bay's look over at Cantaneth, and says with as much cheer
as his long face ever gets, "Could be worse!"

M'tri, finally satisfied that Daikoth has not strained anything, cues one
flap before allowing the blue to fold closed and survey the scolding that
needs to be doled out, eyes whirling as he watches his rider take position
up a few steps off. He looks completely indignant at the punishment, but
his head swings 'round to examine J'len and Cantaneth; back to Tisiath and
his rider, now. Just not enough eyes to watch everything.

"Understood," V'lano chokes out, his first word cracked over a throat dried
by the wind. He slides down from the dragonet's neck, barely remembering to
loose himself from the straps before moving, and hops from knee to paw to
ground, rubbing spots here and there to check for strain. "I think he
copied - someone," the butcher's son declares with a sidelong look toward
Dianneth. More consideration of possibly-sore muscles waits until the pair
draws close to the rest of the group, where the bronzeriding weyrling
blinks at the guilty-looking T'bay. "I missed something," he determines,
still blank-faced. Volath exhales into his dark locks then, and reminded,
V'lano begins the young bronze's inspection in earnest, looking often over
his shoulder or the dragon's at his holdmate and Sarevith, occasionally at
his mentor and Lysseth, and once in a while upward toward the shape
circling high overhead.

Emilly approaches the lake shore cautiously, sort of sidling around to
avoid getting beaned by any still-landing dragons. Eyes dart here and there
to check on the progress of the lesson.

A'tan nods to T'bay as he glances back over to Cantaneth for a moment
before making his way over to Lanisa and Tisiath. "Lanisa, I guess Tisiath
was almost too exicted about his first flight with you and seemed to extend
himself. Is he alright?" He stands and watches Lani for a moment.

"Is it true he's sweet on her?" one of the girls asks. "Is she gonna get
off light?"

A'tan hears the words, but ignores them as he watches the bluerider and her
dragon. "Since he only took one extra beat of his wings you will be
assigned to clean up the barracks tonight and ask if anyone needs any help
with their straps." He shifts a little uncomfortablly.

"Sarevith took too many flaps," Kassima murmurs to V'lano by way of
explanation. "Nay sure how many too many. Tisiath, too?" The question's for
her dragon, who rumbles a vague note. "You're certes helpful. Would be more
so if'n you stopped watching certain fliers." By Lysseth's saucy
tail-flick, one might guess this doesn't serve to chastise her at all. "Any
sign of warmth in the muscles? Wings and shoulders and leg-joints all,
don't forget."

Tisiath certainly doesn't see anything wrong with his flight -- From the
proud arch of his neck and the bright excited blue whirl of his eyes,
though Lani's already shaking her head as she alights the ground and starts
checking the stout blue over, "You did too, Tisi. Now stop and hold still."
That a harsh whisper, but still out loud as she runs her hands down his
legs as she looks for anything amiss. Along the way she glances at M'tri
quick, before A'tan comes to her next. "He tried to take an extra beat,
wingleader." This as she straightens and then adds, "But he didn't complete
it when I told him not to."

M'tri simply gives a transitory nod to Lani, assuming his own at ease
position and jabbing an elbow into what is becoming Daikoth's bulk. The
blue looks very disgruntled indeed, swinging his head to and fro between
dragons and riders.

"Ah," V'lano murmurs to his mentor, hands pausing over Volath's left
wingjoint. "Not that I can feel. He'd be happy to let you, if you want to
check - ?" But the butcher's son can't let the discussion between his
weyrlingmates go by without participation, now that he's got his mind
working again, and once the weyrling Wingleader's made his pronounciation
he pipes up with "Well, I need help with straps, Lanisa. You'll have to
help me get some rings on evenly with the next set Volath's growing into."
A grin curves his mouth, though he dips his head in respect for his wing's
commander and even adds a salute for A'tan's benefit. The grin's all for
Tisiath's chastised rider, though. So much for getting off easily.

T'bay watches sidelong for enough time to determine that Cantaneth is not
too badly injured, then throws himself into the inspection, poking and
prodding until the last vestiges of redness have faded from his face. Only
then does he come around Sarevith's side into view of the others. "A'tan's
been generous in not assigning us latrines for our extra air-time," is his
quiet summary, brief, but reinforcing of their new power-structure, and not
without a trace of humor to lighten the otherwise flat statement. Sarevith,
for his part, rumbles quietly, perhaps in agreement with Lanisa about
Tisiath's halted beat.

A'tan looks over at Daikoth and his rider with a slight frown and dark look
in his eyes. He turns his head back to Lanisa, "I noted that he didn't
complete the extra beat, but cleaning the barracks might bring a little
more control." His eyes hold firm before nodding as he turns from her and
walks over to I'sai.

"Yes sir." Lani doesn't seem to really care about the punishment though,
after all, she was just answering the question put to her, not arguing. She
goes back to her check as he walks away and glances again to M'tri with a
slight shrug as if she expected no less and then a nods for V'lano, even
grins in return. "Sure, I'll do that."

Yselle glances over at I'sai, and Dianneth rumbles. The greenrider shoves
her hands in her pockets, and watches the new wingleader go, thoughtfully.

Cantaneth's eyes are whirling with overtones of yellow as he pushes himself
up slowly at J'len's direction. J'len keeps a gentle hand on the bronze's
side, muttering in a calm voice to help him from sucumbing to panic. "Aye,
Weyrlingmaster. Will he be alright to walk there? I mean, it doesn't look
deep, but..." Here he finds himself at a bit of a loss for words. It's not
Cantaneth's first injury, but the others were strains, stretches, and
general aches. This is the first time he's felt the pain echoing down like
this.

Yselle clears her throat. She eyes A'tan meaningfully, and glances at
Leonneth.

Kassima inclines her head, accepting the offer, and steps forward to lay
gentle and practiced hands on the soft bronze hide. "Thankee, Volath," she
says for his permission. She traces fingers along the underside of wings,
the muscles of each shoulder, and the curve of the knee, slightly slower
than she might be in performing the task with her own lifemate. She's not
as familiar with Volath's build, after all. "Hmm... hmm. All feels as it
should t'me. If'n you or he have any doubts, though, one of the Assistants
or Is should do a check." With a definite droll humor, "And don't enjoy
your Wingmate's sentence *too* much. Just think: next time, it could well
be you."

"Take it easy, J'len," I'sai says, Taralyth-reinforced in a warm maze of
light. "Cantaneth." - "And aye, he will be. I'll go with you. Take it easy,
take it slow. Let's go." A quick nod to Yselle passes command to her, and
with that, he leads the young pair off towards the infirmary.

A'tan looks at Yselle and then moves back over to Leonneth. He begins the
task of removing her straps and talks to her quitely. He frowns to himself
a couple of times and keeps to himself as he immerses himself in the task.
When he is finished with the straps over his shoulder he looks at Yselle.
"Anything else ma'am?"

M'tri is very obviously biting his tongue, and Daikoth is too as he eyes a
passing Lani. Ruffling his wings in a display of his distaste, Daikoth
returns to eyeing the rest of the dragonets, occassionally pinning in on
one for a bit and then moving on. As Lani passes, he adds, with a small
smile, "I need help with my straps, too."

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

T'bay works his way around Sarevith to his wings, which the proud and
playful dragon, so quick to forget so no wonder his rider needs the
reminders, is quick to spread. T'bay turns his head, copying the motions he
can see Kassima making across the way, feeling the hide for any damage
beneath. Sarevith croons reassurance and support for Cantaneth while T'bay
removes the straps and begins checking them over, noting the places where
the padding seems needed and where it can be lessened.

"I know." V'lano's reply to Kassima is almost affectionate, tempered with
respect and just a touch of impertinence. "But if it is, I'd better not get
strap-helping duty. Assuming anyone wants their straps done properly." He
flicks a grin over his shoulder at Lanisa, offering a wink to soften his
request and offer gratitude for her good humor, then attends more carefully
to his mentor. "I don't feel any burning," he decides, "Though I think he
hasn't really landed exactly like that before. He didn't want to get his
head too far down and spill me." The Lemos meatcarver puts out a hand to
scratch a bronze chin lowered precisely for that purpose. "Just some
practicing on the ground, imitating the grown dragons."

J'len nods slowly, taking strength from I'sai's calm tone while Cantaneth
takes the same from Taralyth's thoughts. "Aye, sir." The pair start towards
the far end of the bowl and the infirmary, Cantaneth's strides a bit choppy
as he tries to keep as much weight as possible off his forelegs.

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

Yselle sees that nod from I'sai, but passes it on to Emilly and S'fin
almost immediately. "A'tan," she says, "Head back with me? Time we took
care of Leonneth," and with that, she walks back to the barracks,
apparently assuming the greenling will just follow.

A'tan nods to Yselle as he maneuvers the straps on his shoulders. He lets
Leonneth wander a little bit as he follows alone. Leonneth croons as she
bounds after Yselle.

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.

Lysseth settles in now that the bulk of the excitement is completed, her
posture rather like a resting feline, or riddling sphinx. She offers gentle
rumbles to the departing Cantaneth and Sarevith for good measure, as blue
eyes speckled with hints of green study each Weyrling dragon within her
line of sight. "Hah," says Kassima, looking back over her shoulder to grin
at V'lano. "That *is* a point. I'd guess that he's fine--and soon you'll be
able, both of you, t'take soaks in the Springs after practices, which can
be just the thing if'n he *does* feel any strain or tiredness. But nay
until the Weyrlingmasters say. What he did was called backwinging. When
Lyss and I learned this, Meroth--he and T'fian were Assistants for our
group--taught her t'do it specifically; it is a good landing and a useful
skill t'know. Just watch that you walk a'fore you run, and all that." Now
that the lesson seems mostly over, she feels free to turn and say to other
Weyrlings near, smiling, "Felicitations, by the by, on your brand new Wing."

Emilly blinks a little at the sudden shifting of responsibility, all
without a word being spoken. She scratches at the back of her neck a
little, as if still trying to get her bearings and moves toward the
remaining pairs. "Err ... any questions?" she attempts, eyes sliding off
after the departed rest of the Weyrlingmaster's team.

M'tri snaps off a brief salute to the departing weyrling Wingleader and
AWLM as they depart, weaving 'round his dragon, taking off the straps.
"Yes, yes, I /know/, be /quiet/." Trii looks exasperatedly at his lifemate,
carefully checking beneath the straps and making note of what needs fixing
and what is fine.

Lanisa smiles to M'tri in return as she finishes her check and then nods,
"Of course." With a glance at Diakoth she adds, "What's gotten to him, eh?"
V'lano gets another bright grin, as she doesn't seem to mind the comment in
the least. She pauses for a concerned look after J'len and Cantaneth.

T'bay completes the ceremonial rewrapping of the straps across his chest
like he's Mr. Telgar Weyr, despite the assignment of a set of extra laps.
Sarevith rumbles warm agreement with apparently something Kassima has said,
"Thanks," he grins, dusting off the jacket with a flick of his fingers,
aiming to lighten the worry about Canteneth as the duo head slowly toward
the bowl and away from the lake. "First day as a wingrider, I'm in the
stocks already." After considering for a moment, he looks at his straps,
then toward Emilly, "I've got one. I've stitched these bits of padding down
firmly. Really really firmly. How do I get them off without cutting the
straps? Cause I'm sure I won't sleep tonight if I'm worrying about it."

Emilly seems relieved to have a direct question to answer, and bustles over
to examine T'bay's straps. "Hmmm ..."

Volath raises his head, stretching his neck as the inspection is more or
less concluded successfully. V'lano begins the tast of removing the riding
straps, clambering on leg and shoulder while unbelting from this loop then
that. "I haven't been in the springs in /so long,/" he moans
good-naturedly. "You can't take us, can you, Wingleader?" A wary glance
over his shoulder at Kassima, almost a note of anxiety in it, but it fades
as he moves on to the next strap-loop. "Not that I couldn't ask one of the
weyrlingmaster staff. But I hate to trouble them. I just love to trouble
you," he adds with brashness to cover the foot-in-mouth structure of his
comment.

"He disagrees with his wingleader," M'tri says with a small smile. "He's
got a whole lot more than two marks to put in, and he's quite ready to give
it out." Trii fondly scritches at his dragon's eyeridges, muttering, "Calm
down. C'mon...we'll go lay down, and you can rest while I oil you, oh King
of the Shiny Stuff." Daikoth seems flattered at his title and shows it by
craning and holding his head up high, all but prancing in the direction of
the bowl. "I'm being summoned," the weyrling says with a shrug towards
Lani. And then, with hurt look towards Kassi and V'lano, he demands, "And
you say /I'm/ cheating? You, bronzer, are hitting on my husband, I'll have
you know."

"If'n it makes you feel any better," Kassi drawls to T'bay, "the first day
'twas a Weyrling Wingleader--though since we only held it for the duration
of a Fall then, 'first day' is a stretch--I muffed things up in rather
worse fashion. But I survived the stocks, and I'd wager so can you." The
grin she flashes him is one of sympathy. As Volath stretches his neck, the
greenrider lifts a hand to offer, not examination this time, but muzzle-rub
or eyeridge-scritch should he be inclined to accept. "Would that I could,
but I can't--*yet*. You have t'be going with I'sai or an Assistant first.
When they've escorted you, methinks I'm allowed then--" She doesn't seem to
mind the question, and she laughs, fully amused, at this last. "D'you now!
Well, well. Once the prerequisites are met, I could likely arranged t'be
troubled. Hey, M'tri, does it count if'n *you* had an affair with him
*first*?"

Emilly runs her hands lightly over T'bay's straps, inspecting them closely
and testing the weft of his stitches. "I think T'bay, that you could just
snip through the thread here ... and here ... and get it loose so you can
pull out the padding and then re-stitch it. Just be careful not to shred
the leather while you're doing it." She looks over her shoulder as other
comments from the Weyrlings reach her ears and she starts chuckling for
their byplay with Lysseth's rider.

Lanisa lifts a brow at this, glancing between M'tri and Daikoth, her gaze
lingering on the blue, "Does he now?" Then she gives M'tri a grin, "See you
later Trii. I'm sure were not far behind you." For the other exchainge she
then giggles, "She has a point, Trii. You and your affairs..." Mock
admonishment, of course.

"Yes," M'tri says stubbornly, planting his hands on his hips. An
announcement of impatience from the bowl catches the bluerider weyrling's
attention again, and he says, "Fine, have an affair; but when your
fertility yeilds another kid, don't you come crying to me!" M'tri winks as
he ends off his banter, and making a conscious effort, swishes his hips as
he leaves to answer the calling of his partner.

M'tri heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

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

T'bay gives Kassima an almost grateful grin for her anecdote. "Well, if you
can make it and come out still able to have great adventures, I'll have to
manage, lest we make you somehow look bad," he comments before he leans
inward, noting intently where Emilly is indicating. He tucks one hand into
his pocket, removing a small white stick which leaves a powdery residue
behind. Using this, he marks little slashes in granules where the
Assistant's gesturing, intent enough to miss some of the laughable banter.
"Like that? This thread? Oh. Oh! I get it. I was just pulling on it
before...no wonder I couldn't get an edge loose. It's all connected!" After
this, he adds his thanks, and wanders off after Sarevith before he forgets
where she marked to make cuts. "Good night all. Repairs now, laps
early...ugh. Better get some rest. Thank you!" Straps still in hand, he
salutes, then plays catch up with the larger-strided dragonet.

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.

"But he, I, we." V'lano either fakes at being flustered and mouthbound very
well, or the continued suggestion of an affair between himself and the
blueriding weyrling makes him truly uncentered. He watches the departures
of his classmates with a blank grin, then shakes his head and finishes
getting Volath's straps off. Looping them over his shoulders and behind his
neck, he notes, "T'bay and I will have to add verses to that nice little
song one of these days. When we have time." A squint for that. Time?

Emilly nods at T'bay. "Yep - just like that," she says with a grin and
steps back as the Weyrling makes his way off into the barracks. She shoves
her hands in her pockets then, checking in briefly with another greenriding
Weyrling who needs her dragonet checked over. She steps back again and
looks around. "Anyone else?" then she's drifting Kassima's wayish, with a
smile of greeting for the greenrider.

Kassima laughs and waves after T'bay and Sarevith as they go, and is amused
again by that fluster, real or feigned. "What," she teases her mentee,
"about how a certain bronzerider came between Metri and his oh-so-dashing
and daring true love, rendering the trousseau all for naught?" She had to
say it, didn't she? "Someday there'll be time again. Mayhaps one of you
could work on it if'n elevator duty's slow, one day, once you start that,
and show it to the other for approval. Only if'n you *do*, then I want
t'see it too. Or hear it sung, better yet. Isn't he just terrible, Lani?
I've lost track of how many affairs M'tri's having now. There's V'lano and
J'len, quite possibly I'sai, I still suspect Roberta, probably T'bay while
he's at it, and I could've sworn he was giving A'tan the eye...." Her smile
back to Emilly is considerably more sincere than such concerns.

"Now, that's not a bad plan." V'lano loops up the last bit of the straps
and lifts a hand to wave at Emilly, noting, "I think I'm fine. We need a
dash of oil and a slab of meat. It's good not to be in charge - or
punished, at the moment," smirks the momentarily smug young man.
"...Elevator duty? No, no," he interrupts, lifting a hand to close off the
conversation before it begins, his eyes shutting to block out information.
Volath lowers his muzzle for Kassima's rub, but stretches a wing out just
enough to nudge his rider: hello, it's oil-me time. "You'll have to excuse
us. Maybe I can, uh, steal some of M'tri's quiet time while Lanisa works on
his straps and mine." The tops of the butcher's ears shade a slightly
darker hue, but he starts for the bowl anyway, grinning. Volath does not
hurry to catch up.

Smugness gets a chortle, relatively harmless smugness as it is. Kassima
agrees, "You'll learn soon enough," while stroking that proffered muzzle
briefly. "*Do* try nay t'delight m'wife too much, would you? I'd be just
heartbroken if'n he left me for you," she adds, a last, grinning tease just
as they depart.

Emilly smiles at V'lano as he walks by. "Good luck with the oiling," she
says and turns slightly to look out toward the lake. Some pairs head that
way to scrub off after the exercise of flying, while many more stream
towards the barracks. Her eyes roll slightly heavenward for the "romantic"
banter.

"He is." Lani's quite willing to agree, "But I don't think Bertie's on his
list, eh." She always says that and then a mock salute is tossed off to
V'lano with an accompanying grin. "That's it. You keep him out of trouble
for me while I work, eh?"

Volath reluctantly lifts his muzzle from the greenrider's hands and turns
to trod heavily after his rider, turning his feet over here and there to
make that scrawling talons-on-stone sound he likes so. Wincing as that
sound catches up quickly enough, the dragon's large steps soon overtaking
his small ones, V'lano asides to Lanisa, "You can count on me!" The bronze
pair dally no more then, heading back for home and oil.

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

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

[Editor's Note:  There was more to this log--mostly conversation
between Emilly and Kassi--but I've snipped it out at Emilly's
request, so the scene ends here.]