OoC: Set around current time. Feel free to hear the commotion and come to see what is going on.
---You can't make me.
Oh for the love of... Suppressing a growl, Dytha tried to move around Ponth to throw her straps on. For the umpteenth time, the tiny green quickly rolled away. It was easy to do when you had a wallow meant for an 8th Pass green and therefore were lying in a luxury sized bed.
It was the smugness in Ponth's tone that did it. "Fine!" Dytha snapped, exasperated. "You won't let me put straps on, then we don't fly. Which means you don't get bathed, you don't do drills and you don't get to have fun." Her voice was getting louder with each syllable, echoing around the wallow. She wasn't in the mood for this nonsense, her feet were aching today, the tell tale sign of having done too much.
Don't care. I can fly to the lake if I want to.
"Urgh! You are being such a child today!"
If she didn't know better, Ponth was showing the early signs of being proddy and if that was the case, Dytha was going to resign herself to a miserable few days locked in her weyr until it was all over. And live in a cold bathing pool. She just wasn't in the mood for this, all she wanted to do was fit Ponth with these new straps, make any adjustments and do a test flight if necessary. But clearly that was too complicated.
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.
I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!