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Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx

kepheren
 

He watched, rather fascinated by the little gold. Brahn was cheering her on in his own inimitable way and C'lynx gave Nyzara's shoulder a little squeeze as the first egg was laid.

"I can't quite see what color it is," he said after a moment. "Hard to tell since she is still sitting on it and it's covered by the nest. I bet she will lay a lot though and she looks so very proud of herself."

No doubt Nyzara would already know that part but C'lynx, like his bronze flit, could be a little overly chatty sometimes.


Re: Come See the Eggs...If You're a Male Candidate atten: ANY/Asheran/Foreth/Kassia

kepheren
 

The thought of a Hold without drudges didn't quite register with him. Ronhim had always been told that people like him, those who weren't born to the right people he supposed, were the lowest sort of people and meant to do the words of the physical labor. A place without drudges must be...interesting. He let that idea go though to focus on the eggs again when Asheran spoke.

"I never thought dragon eggs would look like this," he mused after a little moment. "Yeah, I figured they would be this big but thought they would be just dull white or grey like the eggs smaller creatures lay. These are so....bright and full of personality."

Maybe not the best of descriptions but the best he could think of in the moment.


Re: Party: Pardon My Clumsiness attn Miacca / Ronhim

kepheren
 

He tried to remember the smell of numbweed but was coming up with a blank. It wasn't as if he had ever been hurt often and when he was a simple drudge, particularly one nobody cared much for anyway, hardly merited fancy medicine. Oh, he had experienced it once or twice from a distance but the memory didn't stay with him so well while he was already distracted.

"I'll have to take your word for that," he said thoughtfully, putting the numbweed question aside for now. "But that must be helpful. To have been here for a few turns and to have an uncle who can heal dragons. I just got here and am still just amazed by everything I see.'

Ronhim was still nervous but her easy manner was doing a lot to help set him at ease.


The Blame Game ((JP Asheran, Namieh))

 

Several days had passed since Namieh's ‘accident’ on the Sands. Initially she had been heavily dosed with fellis while they set the broken bones in her right arm and collar, and assessed whether the gold had ruined anything *vital*, but there was little to be done for her ribs other than to wait for time to do its work. She was allowed something she didn't know the name of for the pain, but only enough to dull it. For her wounded pride, for her shame, there was no salve. 


Namieh was left to stew in her own thoughts, and she certainly had much to consider. The healers left her alone for the most part now that they were sure she wasn't going to die, but she was almost ready to beg them for conversation. To be cut off from everyone was almost as bad as the injuries themselves, but a social creature isolated by her own actions could blame only herself... if she were thinking rationally. Instead, she lay in the Infirmary bed seething. 


Despite the illusion she had successfully donned, her hair was a long ultra-light brown that fell messily around the pillows she had been propped up with, unbrushed. Sharp green eyes could not have looked more bored, staring at the ceiling while her fingers fussed with the top edge of her now cast-encased arm. You were only allowed one of their frumpy ‘gowns’ during your stay in the Infirmary, Namieh was annoyed to discover. The pain required to redress forestalled any rebellious desires to look otherwise.


Asheran had been dragged away before learning the identity of the injured candidate on the sands, and he had been yelled at, and he had stewed, and stewed, and stewed. There had been the recriminating looks, the whispers in the hallways, that had pursued him even back to his quarters, where he had lain staring up at the ceiling, alone, until Felix's pitiful creeling had roused him long enough to feed her scraps leftover from breakfast. Then he had gone back to bed, feeling the cuts and aches and bruises everywhere in the quiet, sleepless dark.


Several days had passed in this unreasoning, unrelenting fugue, and then Asheran had made up his mind. Protected from the worst of the gossip by his craft, busied with his work to avoid the bitterness that twisted at his heart, he decided to go visit the boy in the infirmary who had cost him his chance to Stand. Part of him wanted to make sure the boy was okay - and part of him, keenly aware of the scuffs on his hands and face, wanted to beat the everloving shit out of the boy.


So, in a free period between work and dinner, he made his way down to the infirmary and begged in with minimal cajoling to see the other candidate. His firelizard, fat and guilty for having abandoned him to die earlier at the first whiff of a gold dragon's fury, nuzzled up against his neck and gripped his shoulder with fierce, apologetic affection, crooning into his ear. He made his way past several cots, studying the occupants for a face he might remember, and then stopped at the end of the last row, bemused. Where was the idiot? Had he really died, after all?


"Excuse me, where's the - that boy?" He asked finally of one of the bed-ridden, a girl who looked like she had had a rock dropped on her. "I need to -" beat the shit out of him. "-talk to him."


"What boy?" Namieh asked, arching a brow from where she sat. Her gaze had followed him as soon as he began walking past and didn't falter when he turned her way. "This is a big Infirmary," she said, pausing to take a slow and pained breath before continuing. "Maybe some context would help." The stone that settled in her gut was a sneaking suspicion she knew already to who the young man was referring - herself in disguise. There was something strangely familiar about the lad, but Namieh couldn't place him. Her head throbbed. Better to play it safe.


"The one who got me barred from the sharding sands," Asheran snapped, then drew in a breath. He reached up to stroke the long neck of his dumb green flit, fighting for calm, and shut his eyes, trying again: "Sorry - that's not fair of me. You're hurt. I meant - the one that got hurt trying to run out and touch one of the bloody eggs."


Namieh tensed visibly at the glimpse of his anger, her reaction involuntary and a hint at just how on-edge she was. She could lie to him, just allow him to continue believing they were different individuals, and yet… It was his voice that finally stoked the embers of her memory. She had not a chance to see his face in the middle of her mad dash across the Sand, determined to press forward no matter what, but Nami remembered his shouts in hot pursuit. "You…!" She blurted, hate filling that one word.


She went from idle to outraged in a flash, days of pent-up frustration and aggression bubbling out all at once. "You're the idiot who followed me!"


Buuwwwww? Part of Asheran short-circuited at the admission, and he floundered, completely lost. This wasn't the boy, because she wasn't a boy. She was a girl. He wanted to punch the boy in the face, which was uncharacteristic of him, but he would have never in his darkest dreams ever have even indulged in the fantasy of punching a girl in the face or - or anywhere. Not even the girl who had mocked him in the dining hall.


So he stood there in uncomprehending silence for longer than was reasonable. His eyebrows furrowed; his mouth turned down. He stared at the girl, slowly putting two and two together - the ribs, the arm. His bruised face broke into a scowl of sudden understanding.


"But you're a girl," he blurted out thoughtlessly, and felt his face flush afterwards with a sudden, hot shame.


She was a girl, and he hadn't stopped her from getting grievously injured. A girl - who needed protecting, naturally - had gotten badly hurt on his watch.


Nami felt some sliver of satisfaction to watch him flounder, but the rage behind her eyes was all-consuming. "Yes, I'm a girl," she spat the obvious at him like venom, like she hadn't worked hard to pretend to be a boy. "You ruined everything! I was so close, I got so close! If you hadn't raised your stupid voice-- feck! If you hadn't followed me out onto the Sands, I wouldn't have hesitated! That fecking dragon wouldn't have even known I was there!" It all came pouring out in a fury, an admission and a plan - albeit a hastily made one. 


Her dusky skin was bruised, but that didn't stop the emotion from playing out across her face nor the daggers she glared at him. She tried to sit upright with indignation, but the move was a poor one. Pain lanced her ribs and she hissed a sharp groan out between her teeth, stalling her tirade. 


"If I hadn't - what?" He repeated, starting to feel like he was doing that a lot recently. Was she delusional? Was she insane? "If I hadn't come after you, you'd have -"


What he wanted to say was if I hadn't come after you, you'd have gotten hurt, or you'd have died. But that's what had happened anyway, so he bit his tongue sharply and felt a wash of - anger. Of helpless, indignant anger - not directed at her, not most of it, but at himself, and outwards at… at everything, at the world, at everyone. He had tried to be the big damn hero again, and this time it hadn't worked. He worked his shoulders, feeling tense and - and just angry. He didn't have a good outlet, so he shouted.


"I can't stand for this clutch because of you! Do you know how f - how old I am? Twenty turns. This is it, this was my last Thread-scored shot at being somebody! Your stupid, selfish sharding idiot behaviour - I was trying to save your stupid life, and… me? You're angry at me? I've been here since I was sixteen. I've… sweated, and worked, and I've tried really bloody hard to be the best - to… My ma doesn't even believe I can Impress a dragon. My pa never did, and this was it. I don't Impress, I go home. I go spend the rest of my fething life as somebody who mends harness straps and makes belts on my brother's farm! All my friends - here - who have… Even my girl has a brown. Other boys, they show up and they rank bronze, and I'm - I'm stuck here waiting, and now you've gone and - what's wrong with you? Don't you understand? You've ruined me."


The last bit came out as a choked whisper, surprising even him, and he sagged down to sit with his back to her cot, on the floor, punching a hand against the floor. It hurt, but then he had wanted it to, because the alternative was choking the life out of a girl, and that was unfathomable.


"Good!" Nami shouted in return, tears burning at the edges of her vision. "Now you know what it's like to be me!" She didn't mean these words, she would come to regret them, but the hurt was something she couldn't confront. She hadn't meant to hurt him, he was an innocent bystander-- no, better. A good Samaritan punished as a result of interfering with her machinations. He didn't deserve anything that had happened. Acknowledging that meant letting in the ocean of guilt and shame she kept walled off behind only by the tentative hold of her anger. She had failed, but she had also nothing to risk by losing, save for her life - a life which seemed devoid of purpose even before Candidacy. 


"At least you have a home to go back to. I've got nothing, I've always had nothing! I've had to fight for every sharding scrap I've ever got, no one handed me shit. You think I could just sit here while another of those stupid hatchings went by without Impressing? I know what the world thinks of me," she snarled, but pain leaked into her voice turning it hoarse. Rumors had already begun trickling in, though she had no idea the depth of the resentment she had earned beyond this room. "--What it has always thought of me! What all of you sharding Holders always think of me." She affected a nasally tone, clearly imitating someone from her past, "You're so pathetic even your nomad Ma' left you behind. Like I haven't heard it all before!"


Staring at his back hunkered low where he sat on the floor, Nami spent a few moments breathing raggedly to reclaim some air. With her unhindered hand, she scrubbed away the fresh rivulets that streaked her cheeks and tore her eyes away from him. Though she was quick to yell back, she had heard his story. She empathized with his pain even if she had been the one to cause it.


"...Feck it all," Nami said quietly with a telling sniffle. 


Asheran tipped his head back and let her words wash over him. In a way, she was right - he didn't understand, not wholly. He had his Hold-born biases, and she certainly hadn't gone out of her way to subvert them, but if this was where his thoughts went while she ranted tearfully at him, then at least he was too polite to say so. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, still staring up at the stone ceiling overhead.


"I'm sorry I didn't run faster," he said finally after listening to her sniffle, feeling gutted - as much as he might not have liked her, she sounded like she was crying, and that was mollifying. It was hard to stay angry when girls cried. Then, because he wasn't sure what else to do, he asked uselessly:


"You okay, though?"


Nami stiffened as if she'd been struck and the jostle made her suck in a breath through gritted teeth to keep from yelping. That was the last thing she expected from him, an apology that he hadn’t been able to save her. Bright eyes narrowed with suspicion, darting back to his form where they remained fixed with all the intensity of a cornered animal. 


“Do I look okay?” She demanded with more vehemence than she really meant, disarmed by his sincerity and frightened by that fact. No one ever truly cared, she had learned this lesson many times the hardest ways. His kindness was regarded with apprehension she masked with outrage. Anger was easier to give in to, made her feel less helpless and needy, but it was also exhausting to maintain. Convalescing took more out of her than she realized and already the exchange had begun to make her tired. “No! ...No. I’m not,” she added more softly after a few moments. “I’ll be stuck here for a few months. If.. I’m not banished entirely.” Nami knew what she had done. She wasn’t a complete idiot, though it was hard not to feel like one in her position and she was sure most of the Weyr leadership saw her that way by now. 


Faced with a young man whose life she had quite literally ruined, by his own words, she felt that fiery conviction of righteousness waver. She had been so sure, so confident her plan would work, but in the candlemarks of recovery since the incident, there had been much time to review what went wrong. Foreth had been so… big. So much bigger than Nami could have imagined, having seen only her daughter Razelth up close. The mother dragon had been fast and furious in her defense of the clutch. No human could have beaten that, no, it was underestimating the gold that foiled her efforts. Not this man. 


Namieh swallowed hard. “Look, I didn’t-- I didn’t mean for you to get involved.” It wasn’t quite the I’m Sorry that Asheran truly deserved, but it was as close to an apology as this girl would ever give. “It should’ve only been me.”


"Well, I got involved," Asheran retorted, his guilt washed away by a fresh bout of annoyance. No, of course she didn't look okay. He more meant - meant that, maybe, internally, emotionally, if she was okay. He raked a hand through his hair, swept it back, then sighed. Felix, feeling his frustration, shuffled closer to his ear and pressed her long, fat body up against the side of his face, wings flared out and swaying slightly, the idiotic display clearly meant to intimidate the invalid girl in the cot.


He had come, said his piece, and there was work to do. He wasn't sure if he felt better now about things, or worse, but at least he had seen for himself that the other candidate wasn't dead. So he pushed back to his feet and turned to face the cot, looking down. He wasn't going to offer to speak up on her behalf, or try and lead a heroic defense to prevent her from getting kicked out on her arse. No, she had definitely messed up, and she deserved whatever punishment the Weyrwoman had planned for her. But - she was also there because he hadn't been good enough. So he compromised.


"I need to get back to work, but my - I know somebody who works the infirmary. I can ask if she'd stop by and talk to you sometime, make sure that the apprentices aren't spitting in your food, if you want."


Nami watched the flit’s performance unfazed, far from intimidated by the creature many times smaller than herself. She wasn’t a tall girl by any means, but she wasn’t about to let some little ‘lizard sass her. Distracted momentarily from her guilt by the display, she stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose at Felix while Asheran’s back was still turned. When he did straighten, Nami hurriedly fixed her face so that she didn’t appear quite so goofy in front of him.


The offer he gave felt like a slap in the face after everything she had unintentionally done to him. Not because she wouldn’t need the help - she’d likely face a wide variety of clever vengeances from other Candidates long before she ever returned to class, if she returned. No, it was her pride that took the hardest hit. Accepting his assistance was akin to admitting how vulnerable she truly was laying in that Infirmary bed, and her desperate need to feel in control wouldn’t allow for it. 


“I don’t need your help,” she retorted. “You don’t even know me.” Had she not been missing the functionality of one arm, the way she folded her left across her chest might have had more impact. Though she may have craved interaction mere minutes before, now she just wanted to see the man gone. “Go find someone else who needs saving.” Namieh turned her head away in dismissal.


After everything he had done, after - 


"What's wrong with you?" He asked in pure exasperation and disbelief, but didn't give her the chance to enlighten him. No, she certainly wasn't disavowing any old stereotypes today.


With a frustrated growl, and a dismissive wave - refusing to acknowledge that he had been dismissed first, Asheran turned and left, leaving the cot behind, leaving its occupant behind.


He'd given up his future so that an ungrateful girl could yell at him.


Or - 


No. He wouldn't let his life be martyred for her disdain.


So he hatched a plan instead.

 


Re: She's Always Like This ((Attn: S'nen, F'nel))

 

((Of rank?)) Lileth asked in a sultry tone, suddenly intensely curious. ((What a fascinating development, my dear Sekerth. I happen to find leadership qualities very attractive.)) Twisting her head around so that she could see the second man approaching, she didn't even mind when the brown's attentions ceased, distracted by the sudden flood of emotions she felt from her rider.

F'nel's eyes bulged in disbelief before he even turned around, recognizing instantly the voice from the Wingsecond he'd left behind. Every muscle in his body went taut with barely bottled rage and when he finally spun around on one of his heels, the expression on his tanned face was merciless. "No," he ground out. "Absolutely not. This is not fecking happening. Lileth, we're leaving!" F'nel moved stiffly to his green's side, but the dragon had not moved from where she lay sprawled. 

((No, I like this one.)) Lileth objected, matter-of-factly. ((I'm staying.))

Clenching his fists as his sides, F'nel stared murderously at Lileth's triangular face. His own was the color of redfruit. {{That's HIM, you lard! That's the Wingsecond who just ran into me, and you're busy cuddling up to his dragon!}}

((I like his dragon.  And his dragon's name is Sekert.))

"I DON'T CARE WHAT HIS NAME IS!" F'nel shouted aloud in frustration. 

On Fri, Aug 14, 2020 at 2:30 PM Steelsilver <theglitteryone2@...> wrote:

"My type?" S'nen raised a brow, at the fresh insult, and in the back of his head, Sekerth grumbled. ((You should sit on him.)) the brown huffed. ((We rank him, even more so, now.)) 

"No. Not yet." S'nen answered, absently, some part of him registering the other's departure, but most of his attention on his dratted brown. --Now, where the shards are you, you lump?-- 

((Over here.)) Sekerth responded, sent a brief image of the lakeside, before the brown snorted and turned his attention once more to the green and her rider. ((I am certain Mine will tend my hide with all due dignity. I am a dragon of rank.)) He was rather proud of his uniformity. ((He comes now.)) 

He left off grooming Lileth, stretched his neck out a little toward S'nen. ((Mine! See this beautiful green I have found!)) 

S'nen looked up. "Oh you have *got* to be sharding joking." 


Re: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others ((Attn: Namieh, Kassia, Any Boys))

Jenna Cunningham
 

Well, those words of quiet reassurance he had distantly expected went right off the ledge at the Weyrwoman's snapped questions. Asheran winced, then tucked his hands up under his arms, wedged in his armpits, to stop his shoulders from shaking so much. She'd understand if he just explained. He was confident she'd see reason if he just explained himself.

"I saw him start running, so I thought I'd catch up and... stop him from hurting himself out on the sands, Weyrwoman," he said honestly, without much thought. "I thought I could catch up, and then I'd tackle his legs and pin him down, or he'd listen to me and come back before he got hurt."


Re: Come See the Eggs...If You're a Male Candidate atten: ANY/Asheran/Foreth/Kassia

Jenna Cunningham
 

"We didn't have any drudges on the cothold," Asheran said easily, unwilling to let something that bothered the other young man trail away like that. "Too small. But I was the youngest out of four, so you could say I was the drudge." He smiled again, then drew his hand back and let it rest draped across his knee. Ronhim was probably right, he thought after some consideration. The egg did look angry, and for whatever reason, the bronzes seemed to hatch out of angry looking eggs. It must suck, being twisted up inside a shell for so long. Maybe that was why they came out angry. Too little space for something so imperious and large. It made him wonder what a gold would look like in comparison. Not as grand, probably, but just as big.

"I bet you're right."


Re: Hair today, gone tomorrow. (Attn: D'vik/Fabio- Calyse)

Alyx
 

Fabio watched the preparations curiously. But hurt too much to really move much. But the GoldPet seemed to want to help, even though he make the gold smaller. He truly felt bad about that at the moment, though he'd forget soon enough. As soon as the brush hit his hide he squealed with indignant pain. But didn't try to bite, or go between. But he did hunch down on himself, making a smaller target. While making the most piteous sounds.
--
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, Lerian (candidates), Vayka (Healer), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM)


Re: Hair today, gone tomorrow. (Attn: D'vik/Fabio- Calyse)

 

Calyse carried the injured flit through the Barracks without wasting time, navigating to the Infirmary with practiced ease. This part of the Weyr, at least, she always knew how to find. The stink of her burned hair followed them, curling her upper lip, but she had compartmentalized the damage to her pride and would deal with that once caring for the stupid firelizard was done. She was a dragonhealer, after all, even if she was just an apprentice. Flits were almost dragons, and she felt compelled to help even if he *had* done this to himself. "You'll be okay soon, dummy," Calyse said without a hint of malice. 

Arriving on the dragon side of the Infirmary, Calyse found the cabinet in the back rooms where jars of numbweed were always kept and took one down. She set Fabio on the countertop nearby, fetching a brush to apply the cream with - useless hands would help neither of them. "Alright, you." She approached and setting the tools she had collected beside him - a pot of numbweed and brush, a jar of redwort, linen for bandages, and a cloth. "This'll sting to start, b-but then we can apply the soothing cream. We have to clean those burns first or you'll get an infection." Dousing the cloth in redwort, she set about gently wiping his burns with the astringent. 

On Sat, Aug 15, 2020 at 2:34 PM Alyx <scottish.wolfecary@...> wrote:
Fabio simply chittered sadly. He hurt too much to think of much more to do. But he didn't squirm when picked up. On close examination, it was obvious that this was far from the first time he'd been hurt and tended to. At least he was calm and used to it by now. Of course, he was an idiot of a flit, and that calm could change at any moment.
--
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, Lerian (candidates), Vayka (Healer), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM)


Testing Bonds (ATTN: Trifali/Andreya)

Jessica Freise
 

The day after her talk with T'rif, Trifali sought out Andreya. She was not one to hide her emotions, not if she'd previously shared them. It was because of this that she knew her face looked grave when she caught up to her sister and said quietly, "Can we talk?"


Setting Up A Friend (I'des/Cremsden)

Laura Walker
 

I...Hi.” I’des greeted the Healer. “I’m here for my scar check, make sure I’m not dying.” he added. 


“Oh, you’re definitely dying, just hopefully in a way that will take at least fifty turns to reach the end point.” Cremsden was in a good mood today, and gestured to his office. “Come on in and take a seat.”


There was a one-winged blue firelizard already curled up on the desk. He raised his head long enough to peer at the bronzerider.


I’des tossed out a jaunty salute as he followed Cremsden in and sat where indicated, brightening at the sight of the firelizard, though he didn’t reach out to try and touch. “He’s cute! What happened to his wing, though? Lot smaller than my wherpup.” he chatted. “I’m I’des, of bronze Sunstreath. Nice to meet you.” 


“His name’s Bitey. I wouldn’t touch unless he invites you to,” Cremsden warned automatically. “He’s got strong ideas on how to enforce personal space. Wing got taken by Thread so he moved in with me.”


Bitey laid his head back on the desk but kept a watchful eye on I’des.


“Sure.” I’des responded, kept his distance but gave the blue flit a little wave. “Hi, little guy.” A brief look of confusion, before he shrugged it off. “I thought you couldn’t Impress flits as adults.” 


“You can’t, or at least I didn’t,” Cremsden confirmed. “He’s not mine as such he just.. lives with me.” In fact, it might be more correct to say Cremsden belonged to Bitey. “Right. How have you been feeling?”


“Good, actually. I don’t feel half as tender as I used to, even if my scars kind of itch.” I’des admitted. “Sunstreath fusses more than I do, though, and I’ve been taking it easy- I help the Weyrwoman with her paperwork and stuff right now.” 


A pause, and a quick grin at the Healer. “Honestly, I’ve been sort of bored. I miss flying Thread- or just a nice long flight.” 


“Yeah. The itching is a thing.” Cremsden looked rueful, half-gesturing to the thick scar tissue around one ear-lobe. “I know, believe me. It’ll go off in time though.”


“Got anything to make it stop itching?” I’des asked, hopefully. “I mean, I could just jump in a vat of numbweed, but I don’t think that’s Healer-recommended.” 


Sunstreath snorted, from where he was sprawled out on one of the warm rocks on the Rim. ((You itch worse than I do. Tell the Healer, or I stay up here.)) 


I’des sighed. “Sunstreath said to tell you that I itch worse than he does.”


Cremsden shrugged. “I’ve got friends who threaten to kick me when I scratch,” he offered. “And one who does actually hit me with a stick. I can give you some dilute numbweed to take it down a level but mostly it’s time.”


I’des sighed. “I can take the dilute numbweed?” he asked, after a moment. “And I don’t have a weyrmate who’ll kick me if I scratch. Just me, my wher, and my dragon.” 


“Well. He also nips if he thinks I’m misbehaving,” Cremsden admitted, nodding to the firelizard. “But I’d maybe not try that with a wher. Ask your dragon perhaps. You mind taking your shirt off?”


“I thought you’d never ask.” I’des teased, playfully. “And nah, Nuffink is a good boy. Plus I think he’d take my hand off if he nipped, and the Wherhall says not to allow any kind of biting.” He paused a moment, to obediently tug his shirt off.

“I’m not as handsome as I once was, oops. But at least it gives me character?” 


“You’ve still got internal organs and they still work. Count yourself lucky.” Cremsden washed his hands quickly with redwort before he came to take a look. “Hm hm hm. Yes, those look to be healing nicely. No redness or inflammation.” He reached to trace one gently. “And no heat. Excellent. How have you been feeling in yourself?”


I’des blinked, twitched a little at the touch. “....You know, if you wanted to get all handsy, you coulda just asked?” he teased again, before letting out a long sigh. “Little bit tired at the end of the day, kind of worried that my stamina’s all gone.” he admitted. “I mean, I was laid out flat for over a month, and I still haven’t done drills, or flown Fall. Sunstreath and me are going to get fat.” 


“Stamina will build back up slowly,” Cremsden reassured. “Don’t worry about taking a lot of long naps right now. Your body is using a lot of energy just to try and heal up right; you might not feel like you’re doing anything but it’s working as hard as it can just to set you back to normal.” It was a reassuring Healer tone, soothing by habit. “When you’re ready we’ll ease you back in slowly, and you’ll still probably start napping all over again. You able to keep up with taking care of-- Sunstreath, is it?”

I’des let out another long sigh. “...I’m bored though. Bored and itchy. It’s like I’m a Weyrling all over again, but I can’t even do fun stuff.” he responded. “And yes. I’m I’des, and my dragon’s bronze Sunstreath.” 


“Well, at least we’re not barring you from drinking and sex this round?” Cremsden suggested, smiling at his exasperation. “Really though, I know, it’s annoying. Try to view it as a holiday if you can.”


“I can drink again?” I’des brightened immediately. “So… I don’t have to keep Sunny out of greenflights anymore?” he added. “Because getting him to back down is a pain and a half.” 


“Mmm.” Cremsden ran an assessing eye over the scars again. “That depends. How badly do you usually get scratched up in greenflights?” Some people tended more towards rough flights than others. “You might be better starting when you’re fully in your own mind first.”


“Sunstreath doesn’t chase often- he prefers golds.” I’des responded. “We’ve won a few greens before though- never a gold yet.” He paused. “...I can do that. Or only let him fly if I know the green’s rider is gentler.” 


“You do that. Take it easy for a bit; nothing to stop you enjoying yourself but try not to get hurt,” Cremsden advised. “You can start taking a few trips out of the Weyr as well as long as you stick to flying straight. And if you do get in trouble, get your lad to shout for help rather than trying to get back.”


“...Vacation. Right.” I’des sighed. “At least I won’t be as bored- and hey, I can start working more with Nuffink again. Poor boy’s been cooped up too long.”


“Surely you’ve got a few friends with rest-days you can convince to come for a day out?” Cremsden suggested. “Have fun for a time.” Not that he’d taken that advice. He’d gone straight back to the office as soon as allowed. But Healers were different.

“Maybe.” I’des shrugged. “I’ll have the big lug ask around.” 


“Don’t act too thrilled,” Cremsden said drily. “Here, you mind if I check your pulse while you’re here?”

“Sure.” I’des shrugged. “And come back in if my scars start hurting, right?” 


“Mmhm.” Cremsden reached to take I’des’ wrist between his fingers. “Hurting, or if they’re hot to the touch, or if you feel hot and shivery, or if they start looking inflamed. Or anything else that just seems off to be honest.”


“You got it.” I’des responded, and offered the Healer a wink. 


Cremsden smiled at him distractedly but was busy counting the pulse for a moment. Job done, he reached to write it down. “Good enough.”


“Do I come back and see you, if that happens? I certainly wouldn’t mind.” I’des responded. 


((Flirt.)) Sunstreath huffed. 


“Mm, yes. You’ll need to come back anyway.” Cremsden was jotting down notes quickly as he spoke, eyes on the paper rather than I’des. “You’ll need someone to sign off that you can try drills and again that you’re good to be in the air in Fall.”


“....Fine.” I’des sighed. “When’s that?” 


“Give it a couple of sevendays I’d say.” Cremsden looked up again at the sigh. “Sorry. I know it’s slow but an infection there isn’t worth thinking about.”


“Not your fault.” I’des responded, with an attempt at a grin. “Think this is the slowest pace I’ve lived, like, ever.” 


“I know the feeling.” Cremsden reached to touch his ear absent-mindedly. “Still. You’ll heal.”


“You tried to bandage me once.” I’des blurted, suddenly. 


Cremsden raised his head from his notes and looked at him. His blank expression said he had no memory of this. “I..did?” It seemed entirely possible he’d forgotten a patient somehow, though why this was important.


“You did!” I’des confirmed. “Woke me up, talking about whers… I think you were sick. I was half asleep- I was just recently hurt, and it was night time, cause Sunstreath was sound asleep.” 


“..Ah.” Cremsden looked a little sheepish. His hand crept up towards his ear again but Bitey had been watching from the desk, suddenly less sleepy and more alert. He made an annoyed muttering sort of noise and Cremsden hastily removed his hand. “Yes yes, sorry.” That apology seemed aimed at the firelizard rather than I’des. 


“Sorry about that,” he said more directly to I’des. “I hope I didn’t manage to do any damage?”


“Nah, you’re fine.” I’des assured him. “I think I was more confused than anything else. And that other Healer- that one with green Elphith- came and got you before you could do more than confuse us both.” 


“Cuylar!” Cremsden grinned at that, looking faintly relieved. “Yes, Cuylar would. I think he ended up spending a few days basically babysitting me, bless him.”


I’des grinned back. “Good. We need our Healers. I don’t think Sunstreath and Elphith get along though.” he added, reflectively. “Both strong personalities.” 


“Oh, I’m honour-bound to take Elphith’s side in any argument,” Cremsden said jokingly, relaxing again now it was clear no damage had been done. “Mostly because she actually likes me.”


I’des’ grin relaxed as well. “Good on you. Sunstreath’s a proud son of a wherry.” he added. “I’m not sure what happened, by the time I was aware enough Sunstreath had forgotten the details, but I think the big lug started it.” 


((Did not.)) Sunstreath huffed. 


Oh.” And a vaguely remembered gossip session suddenly rang bells and Cremsden glanced at the name at the top of the notes again, refreshing his memory as to the name. “Oh. You’re I’des,” he said as though that suddenly just made sense. “Right. Yes. He might have mentioned you.” In a very specific way, and his gaze was suddenly slightly more assessing. 


“....Yeah… that’s me.” I’des responded, suddenly wary. “I’des of bronze Sunstreath.” 


“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” Cremsden said hastily. “Just-- mentioned you two were getting on well.” He was still looking I’des up and down consideringly. “You know, he’s not been taking enough time off lately. If you’re needing a way to occupy free time you could convince him to come with you on a beach trip or something. Do him good.”


“Really?” I’des perked up a little. “I’ll have to track him down in a bit.” A pause, another glance over Cremsden. “You could always come too, if you want.” 


Cremsden laughed at that. “I’ve got a small baby and very little free time I’m afraid,” he said cheerfully. “But Cuylar’s shift finishes in about three hours if you were wanting to catch him.”


“...Could always creche it?” I’des suggested, uncertainly, but then let the subject go. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 


“I don’t like the creche.” That was very firm. “Not more than absolutely needed in any case. Besides, I actually like him, wailing and all.” He smiled again. “Do the pair of you good though.”


I was creche raised.” I’des’ turn to frown, slightly. “And I got a bronze out of it. Creches aren’t bad.” A slight pause. “I could use some distraction, get some wind under our wings. Sunstreath’s going to get fat, lazing around.”

((Hey.)) 


“Yes? Just a..personal dislike.” And Cremsden’s smile was polite now, but he wasn’t apologising for the statement. “Bad experiences at another Weyr. Don’t let me put you off if you have kids.”


“Kids?” I’des’ expression scrunched slightly. “I don’t really… go for interacting with anyone under Candidate age. What do I even say?? And no, I don’t have or want any of my own. Maybe a weyrmate. Someday. But kids? Nah.” 


Cremsden laughed. “I won’t bother trying to convince you how much you can enjoy them when you’re not using a Creche then. But do approach Cuylar. Do you both good.” He stood up to see the other man out.


I’des grinned. “I’ll definitely do that.” he responded. “Put in a good word for me?” He rose, nodded a farewell to Cremsden, and trotted out. 




--

Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.


Re: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others ((Attn: Namieh, Kassia, Any Boys))

Laurie
 

"Oh sweetie, you won't die," Rulynn said gently. "But we need to move you. Come now, let's get you to the Infirmary." She glanced at T'rif, hoping he didn't want the girl to be kept there for any other reason. She needed to get those ribs bound before one punctured something they couldn't fix.

On Mon, Aug 17, 2020 at 2:44 PM Ariel Rogers <ariel.aurora.rogers@...> wrote:
Namieh responded to the cajoling by cooperatively ceasing her cries, which both lessened the amount of pain she was (albeit just a little) and helped reassure that she would at least capitulate when certain death was the alternative. The adults discussing the possibility for punishment sailed over her head, her attention only for the apprentices that had begun to move her. What Rulynn had said was true - this was far worse than before. She tried not to fight against Healer hands, understanding that it would only exacerbate her pain, but the survivalist in her wanted to resist. As they lifted her into the stretcher, Nami burst into new weeping that abated into shuddering sniffles once she was settled. Every breath hurt! "P-Please," she whimpered piteously. "It hurts-- so much!" That she might soon feel relief once in the Infirmary hadn't registered in her terrified mind, focused only on the present and how agonizing her own injuries were. "Don't let me die."

On Sun, Aug 16, 2020 at 5:53 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Ru nodded absently at T'rif. She breathed a sigh of relief when the feet moved, but winced at the evident agony Namieh evidently felt. When she started sobbing Ru shook her head.

"Enough of that. You can cry after we've got you put back together, but for now, you're causing yourself even more pain." But the injuries were bad. It was going to be excruciating to be moved onto the stretcher, and carried back to the Infirmary. But initial examination showed that she wasn't paralyzed--yet--and her breath sounds were good, so the ribs hadn't punctured a lung--again, yet. Fellis would relax her, but she didn't want her too relaxed before getting her to the Infirmary.

She sighed. "OK, I hate to do this to you but you think you're in pain now? We need to move you now, and the pain is going to be so much worse. But I promise, after we get you there I'll make sure you won't have any pain for several hours, at least." She gestured for the apprentices to move the girl to the stretcher. "Gently!" she admonished, steel in her tone. She could easily make their lives miserable in the Infirmary, and even though this Candidate had done something illegal and unconscionable, Rulynn wasn't sadistic. There were better ways to punish a wayward Candidate.

"I know you want some sort of punishment for this child," she said to T'rif, "but for now, the amount of pain she's going to be in should be enough. She will also definitely not Stand for this Clutch, and depending on when the next queen rises, possibly not the next one either. For today, that knowledge will have to suffice."  

On Sun, Aug 16, 2020 at 9:18 AM sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:
"She must have snuck in pretending to be a boy," T'rif guessed as she got out of the way. "I told her not to move until you got here." He was worried about her, but also furious.


Sneaking In Amongst Runners (Garatt/Tolfast)

Laura Walker
 

Sometimes, when you were a Candidate, you got sent on errands. Sometimes, when Garatt was lucky, the errands took him right past the runner fields. And sometimes they didn’t and he “got lost” or engineered a shortcut  that took him past there anyway. It only meant a five minute stop but five minutes could be a blissful thing.


He had his own particular runner he’d been working on making friends with, a lovely dark brown creature he’d quietly fallen in love with. Swiping a piece of fruit or vegetable from meals was doing well for him; she was already starting to recognise him as ‘friend’ or at least ‘food’ and canter over when he passed by. And that made life easier because it meant he could make the most of that five minutes rather than spending most of it leaning over a fence staring at her and making hopeful calling noises.


Tolfast had become accustomed to the faces that frequented the stable yard, as they tended to be either under his tutelage or owners of the animals he oversaw. He was aware when a candidate had begun lingering near the runners occasionally, standing out like a sore thumb in his well-oiled machine. As the boy had not caused any trouble, he had made a habit of letting the journeymen know not to shoo the lad off too fast whenever he arrived. He would have to go back to his lessons, but Tolfast saw no harm in allowing him to dawdle *a little*.


Informed that the boy had shown up again, Tolfast decided it was time to make an introduction. Stuffing a few sweet cubes into his pocket, he made his way out to the runner pens in search of him. Before intruding on the scene by making himself known, though, he waited a short distance away and merely watched the interaction between candidate and beast. 


"What's your name?" He asked at last. 


Garatt had been quite happy scratching the runner behind one ear. With no idea of what she was called he’d been trying to think up a name for her but nothing seemed to fit. He startled guiltily at the question.


Responses flickered through his head ranging from denial (I was just passing through and she was friendly!) to excuse (It was only an orangeroot and those are good for you!) to self-justification (Anyway, she was hungry!) The ‘oh shards, I’ve been caught’ look was quite quite clear for that moment before he remembered himself and drew himself up as his father had taught him to. Not that standing straight made any difference when you were talking to a veritable giant but still.


“Garatt.” No ‘sir’, his father had been stern on that, you started greeting stables-folk with ‘sir’ and even if you were a small boy it didn’t look good. Still, even as he was trying to look like someone who didn’t have to justify himself he was blushing.


Tolfast watched the boy without a hint of amusement on his face, though that guilty expression had made it hard to suppress laughter. Looking him up and down as though weighing how best to proceed, his gaze left momentarily to the runner standing placidly on the other side of the fence. He knew that one, not the friendliest mare he'd ever met - that she was waiting patiently indicated to Tolfast that the boy had done his work in earning her trust already. His lips twitched in the effort of hiding his smile. 


"Right then, Garatt. Where are you s'posed to be right now?"


The guilt intensified. Garatt had been scolded often enough for standing around dreaming over runners and canines when he was meant to be working. Here came another one. He resigned himself to it, shoulders hunching a little unconsciously in preparation for the likely lecture. “Back with the Harpers,” he admitted. “But one of the journeymen needed a message running and she came to say hello so I stopped.” And had just happened to have an orangeroot in his pocket. And definitely had never stopped before.


The runner, impatient with so much attention not being shown to her, whickered and leaned to nose at him, hoping he might be hiding more snacks.


Tolfast finally let crack his smile, glancing between the runner and the boy while Garatt spoke. "She's choosy, that one. Doesn't like just anyone," he explained, fixing the boy with a softened gaze and a quirk of his eyebrow. "Got to have the right touch to lure her in, otherwise she'd ignore ya all day. You can call me Tolfast, Garatt." That look on the younger's face, the defensive posture as he prepared for a tongue lashing - he knew them well. No need to spook him with the authority of Tolfast's rank.


"Have you had many chances to see runners before?" He asked, hazarding a guess. "Used to spend every moment I could find in the stables at the old Hold, when I was your age. They're lovely, ain't they?"


“When I was a kid.” Because fourteen was clearly far beyond being a kid. Garatt relaxed as it seemed no scolding was forthcoming, twisting a little to try to settle the runner with one hand. “My aunt let us muck around on them.” 


Unsatisfied with only getting half his attention the runner blew an exasperated snort down her nose at him and he laughed, turning to look at her. “It’s no good complaining when you ate it already.”


Tolfast smirked at the mare's insistence. The boy's response told him just how long he'd been lingering there, and he couldn't help but be reminded of himself many Turns ago. He'd been right where this lad was then, facing the stablemaster, but Tolfast wanted to make sure that this time things went differently. 


"Say, you want to spend a few candlemarks here every day? I could sure use the extra hands." Tolfast was certain he could speak to Nayari about some sort of arrangement. There was no justice in denying the boy his dreams. "And I bet our gal here wouldn't mind the steady orangeroot deliveries."


Can I?” Garatt’s eyes went wide and hopeful for a moment before he wilted. “Thanks, but I’m not meant to,” he said, even as one hand went to stroke the mare’s neck. His father would undoubtedly be displeased if he ever somehow found out.


Tolfast couldn't hide the laugh that left him to watch the sudden change, the boy's face so starkly different from one moment to the next. "What makes you so sure?" He asked, grinning from ear to ear. "I've got some weight to throw around, y'know." Shifting one shoulder forward so they were easier to make out, Tolfast pointed to the Master's knots pinned thereon. "I've got a good eye for folks and I know someone with a love of the beasts when I see it." His hands settled with his thumbs casually caught in his pockets, looking around with a playfully conspiratorial glance. "A little flit told me this ain't your first visit, and I'd like for you to have a chance to feel out what it's like to work this side of the Weyr. Maybe you'll want to stick around. Or.. maybe you'll find it too tough." Tolfast shrugged, pretending not to care though he very much did, prodding at the boy's pride. "Not just anyone can stick it out."


“My father doesn’t like me to,” Garatt admitted, and maybe there was a whole explanation just there in the way he referred to him; ‘My father’ rather than Da or Dad or even just Father. “I’m not meant to waste time messing around with them when I ought to be doing proper work.” And even here, where it was unlikely his father would ever come without a Hatching to bring him, he had kept obediently to those restrictions, ducking the disapproval of an invisible father figure even as he crept out to the runners when he could.


“I could though,” he added fiercely, pride successfully pricked. “They used to let me help at my aunt’s and I was only little then.” He turned his face towards the mare, and his expression said the ‘yes, oh please, yes’ that his words said no to. “She’s really lovely though, isn’t she?” he said wistfully, as she nosed at his uniform, clearly debating whether buttons were edible.


Tolfast caught the note of implied authority when Garatt spoke of his father, and he scrubbed at his beard absently in thought. A parent who thought of work like this as 'messing around' wouldn't have taken kindly to the boy's interests from the get-go. He could empathize with that a great deal. As the boy straightened his spine, the smile on Tolfast's face reappeared. "Ah, well I didn't know that. You *do* sound like you have some idea of how things ought to go 'round here already." He drew out the next pause, this time in playful suspense, before curling his fingers in a thumbs-up gesture. 


"You leave it to me. I'll find a way to get you some extra candlemarks here. Can't go lettin' a brave lad like yourself go to waste when there's a mare here who needs ya'."


The hopeful smile teased out by that promise suggested that all Garatt’s birthdays had maybe come at once. “I’d love that,” he breathed wistfully, staring at the runner. “I’d work at anything.” He stroked her neck again, looking a little shyly at the terrifying adult authority figure turned unexpectedly friendly. “What’s her name?”


Grinning broadly now, Tolfast inclined his head. “Good. It’s settled.” He would speak to one of the candidatemasters later that day to work out the details, but for now, the boy could be allowed to stay a little longer. At the query, he glanced toward the mare craning her neck to stick that big head over the fence. “That one I call Dara, but I imagine she’ll answer to just about anything if you’ve got a handful of her favorite treat.”




--

Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.


Re: A Few Of My Favorite Things ((Attn: Andreya, Trifali))

Jessica Freise
 

"Can I join you?"

Trifali asked from the doorway, one hand behind her back. In it was curled the small gift she had bought Andreya; pretty and delicate, she had thought the hair accessory would fit the girl. Her gray eyes danced with inner mischief as she waited for Andrey's answer.


On Aug 3, 2020, at 6:42 PM, Rosiegirl <rosiegirl872@...> wrote:

Andreya had been a bit shaken by the ending to the Gather, but she was back in the now familiar Candidate barracks and she'd already checked on her mom by flit to find out that her mom had made it home safely. So she was slowly relaxing again due to the routine of being a candidate with the classes, chores, studying and everything else, despite the worry she now felt toward her cousin's safety. 

It was actually in the free time hours after dinner, just a few days after the Gather, when she was studying in her favorite smaller, lesser used study room in the nook she'd claimed. Both her flits were with her because they sensed that their person was still unsettled, Ellysetta draped over Andreya's knees under the table and Colzar perched on the back of the chair she was sitting in as if he was standing sentry. 

In front of Andreya was spread out her study materials, and her head was bent over the hides with her damp hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. After her bath after dinner, instead of her candidate uniform she'd dressed in more casual, relaxed clothing very much not her typical style...an outfit that would be more likely considered loungewear with her flowy, light blouse and loose wrap skirt that hung down to her knees at its highest point in an asymmetrical hemline.

Virus-free. www.avast.com


Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx

Jessica Freise
 

"Thank you," she said, honestly touched. She let herself relax into the arm around her shoulders while a companionable silence fell between them. It was punctuated by a soft hiss as Flare rose to her hind legs, depositing te first mottled egg in the nest.

On Aug 17, 2020, at 6:28 AM, kepheren <kepheren@...> wrote:

"Every lady deserves an audience," he said with a smile of his own. C'lynx laid a hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"And since she can't see for you while she is otherwise occupied stay close to me and I'll be your guide."

With that he put an arm around Nyzara's shoulder, hoping she wouldn't object. He found himself rather fond of the healer though they didn't know each other all that well. Perhaps he should work a little harder to get to know her better.


Re: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others ((Attn: Namieh, Kassia, Any Boys))

 

Namieh responded to the cajoling by cooperatively ceasing her cries, which both lessened the amount of pain she was (albeit just a little) and helped reassure that she would at least capitulate when certain death was the alternative. The adults discussing the possibility for punishment sailed over her head, her attention only for the apprentices that had begun to move her. What Rulynn had said was true - this was far worse than before. She tried not to fight against Healer hands, understanding that it would only exacerbate her pain, but the survivalist in her wanted to resist. As they lifted her into the stretcher, Nami burst into new weeping that abated into shuddering sniffles once she was settled. Every breath hurt! "P-Please," she whimpered piteously. "It hurts-- so much!" That she might soon feel relief once in the Infirmary hadn't registered in her terrified mind, focused only on the present and how agonizing her own injuries were. "Don't let me die."


On Sun, Aug 16, 2020 at 5:53 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Ru nodded absently at T'rif. She breathed a sigh of relief when the feet moved, but winced at the evident agony Namieh evidently felt. When she started sobbing Ru shook her head.

"Enough of that. You can cry after we've got you put back together, but for now, you're causing yourself even more pain." But the injuries were bad. It was going to be excruciating to be moved onto the stretcher, and carried back to the Infirmary. But initial examination showed that she wasn't paralyzed--yet--and her breath sounds were good, so the ribs hadn't punctured a lung--again, yet. Fellis would relax her, but she didn't want her too relaxed before getting her to the Infirmary.

She sighed. "OK, I hate to do this to you but you think you're in pain now? We need to move you now, and the pain is going to be so much worse. But I promise, after we get you there I'll make sure you won't have any pain for several hours, at least." She gestured for the apprentices to move the girl to the stretcher. "Gently!" she admonished, steel in her tone. She could easily make their lives miserable in the Infirmary, and even though this Candidate had done something illegal and unconscionable, Rulynn wasn't sadistic. There were better ways to punish a wayward Candidate.

"I know you want some sort of punishment for this child," she said to T'rif, "but for now, the amount of pain she's going to be in should be enough. She will also definitely not Stand for this Clutch, and depending on when the next queen rises, possibly not the next one either. For today, that knowledge will have to suffice."  

On Sun, Aug 16, 2020 at 9:18 AM sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:
"She must have snuck in pretending to be a boy," T'rif guessed as she got out of the way. "I told her not to move until you got here." He was worried about her, but also furious.


Re: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others ((Attn: Namieh, Kassia, Any Boys))

sailyn2
 

Kassia turned to make sure that the Caverns were clear of Candidates and other people who shouldn't be there. Then she rounded on Asheran.

"What the feck were you thinking?" she snapped. "What could possibly make you put Foreth's eggs at risk?"


Re: Party: Pardon My Clumsiness attn Miacca / Ronhim

Mya L. R.
 

On Tue, Jul 28, 2020 at 7:37 AM kepheren <kepheren@...> wrote:
His smile grew brighter as Miacca tried to reassure him. He wasn't very skilled in social matters but he could tell she was being kind to him and that made Ronhim happy. Happy and just a bit nervous if he was honest with himself. The blush was still there and his stammer but she seemed willing to talk to him for a few minutes despite all that.

"Numbweed?" he replied with a smile as she giggled. It was such an endearing trait to him and the big fellow actually chuckled a bit in reply.

"If you say so. Thank you for saying I'm sweet. A pretty girl has never said anything like that to me before. Your....really sweet too."

It sounded clumsy but it was the best he could do.

Although clumsy, Miacca still found it adorable, especially in combination with the chuckle.  "Yes Numbweed."  Her tone came out rather lighthearted now about the topic, made even lighter by the bright smile on her face.  "My uncle is a Dragonhealer and I've been a Candidate since I turned 12, so I've been around when Numbweed is being prepared enough that I'm sure that Numbweed is where disgusted expressions originated from."
 

--
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Member Name: MyaL
Discord: Neffeyn#8723


Re: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others ((Attn: Namieh, Kassia, Any Boys))

Jenna Cunningham
 

Asheran tripped along beside Kodah, saying nothing for the moment, and the shakes got progressively worse as all of that adrenaline finally faded, leaving him feeling wrung out and weak and numb. He wasn't sure what the Weyrwoman had to say to him - maybe condolences, or words of quiet reassurance? He'd tried his best to stop the other boy. Maybe she'd be disappointed he had failed. Or angry. Her gold certainly had been, and he knew by rumour that she had a temper, too.


Re: Opportune Conversations Over the Buffet Table ((Attn: Ko'ssen, Valesa))

Laurie
 

The first thing Valesa noticed was Ko'ssen drawing his hand back, and for the first time she blushed in embarrassment. She hadn't even seen him offer his hand! How could she be expected to do anything if she was this un-observant?

Also, his questions had her realizing that maybe she had jumped the gun on this AWLM thing. What did she know, after all? Except...she was good with people. Her Healer training had that down, and she enjoyed it, but she didn't care for having to bandage up her friends and wingmates. Though sending out fresh-faced students into danger wasn't much better...

Dragonriding was dangerous. She was starting to understand why there were so many alcoholics in the Wings. She bit her lip, for the first time feeling unsure of her wants.

"Honestly, I was Searched, came to the Weyr, and Impressed at the first Clutch I Stood at. I barely got a chance to be known in the Infirmary--I was an apprentice Healer. And I don't dislike Healing, and if I'm not right for this, that's what I'll do when I'm not being a dragonrider." She cast her eyes down. "I get bored easily. That's why I didn't go into the Bakercraft like my mother. It's too routine, unless you're trying to make something new. The new is what excites me, and even though there will always be routine in every Craft, this seemed to be something I could really get into."

Crossing her arms, she leaned toward the Weyrling Master. "I know I'm young and inexperienced. But in a way, isn't that what you might be able to work with better? I'm not set in my ways yet.  And maybe I don't become a full AWLM at first. How about an assistant to the assistants? Maybe you should think about a mentorship for those newly graduated riders who have the potential to become good teachers. Grab us while we're young." And now, she wasn't even talking about herself, but about anyone who could be groomed early for this job. Training Weyrlings could be a delicate process, at the very least.


On Sun, Aug 16, 2020 at 5:25 PM Rosiegirl <rosiegirl872@...> wrote:
Seeing her wide eyes and laugh as Ko'ssen asked for her to introduce herself, even though she'd not taken his offered hand of greeting, the WLM couldn't help his own smile widening in response. As she introduced herself, the mention of the 'Feast Crashers' told him (through his study since becoming WLM) that she impressed about 4 and a half turns ago, meaning that unless she'd been held back from graduating Weyrlinghood for whatever reason that she's been a full fledged Rider for only around 3 turns....

Shells, only 3 turns out of Weyrlinghood herself and she wants to be an AWLM? Well, at the very least she'd have it a bit more fresh in her memory than his own Weyrlinghood experiences, and that *could* be helpful. But the other potential problem is...based on how old Ko'ssen thought she looked, some of the potential weyrlings who impress could be *older* than her, so how would she manage a class where she could be younger than some of the weyrlings. But, she also had a point about weyrlings possibly being able to relate to a younger AWLM better...

When she finished speaking Ko'ssen pulled himself out of his musing and said with a smile as he lowered his previously offered hand back to the table "Well Greenrider Valesa, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

With that, Ko'ssen straightened up slightly and turned to the topic of conversation. He gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement as he began with "While you do have a point, that some weyrlings could potentially be able to relate better to a younger AWLM, there's a bit more to being an AWLM than that. Beyond getting them to feel comfortable enough to confide in you about any problems they are having, you need to be observant enough to be able to detect changes in each of the weyrling's behavior that could be indicative of them having some kind of problem that they *havent* confided in one of the WLM team. I'm under no illusions that each weyrling is totally and entirely honest with us when they are struggling, despite the clear emphasis we've put on the fact that issues in Weyrlinghood can possibly cause them some real, possibly even life threatening, trouble down the road. And that's even before the 'teaching, issues & conflict resolution, and even discipline' aspects of the job."

Looking at her for a moment, considering his next words, Ko'ssen continued with "I'm not sure how much you're aware of regarding some of the structuring changes that we've implemented recently, but I'll go ahead and explain. While we *do* still have the large 'class-wide' lessons that you'd be familiar with from your own weyrling training, that's only the beginning part of each lesson now. After one of the WLM team leads the 'class-wide' lesson, then each class breaks up into their small 'mentor groups' for more in depth discussion and questions/answer sessions. Each smaller 'mentor group' is assigned their own specific AWLM, so ideally you get a chance to *really* know and connect with those specific weyrlings who are your mentees, which should help you to be able to see any of those small behavior changes hinting at possible issues that I mentioned before. And it's a bit of an easier system to help the shyer weyrlings actually get a chance to speak up in their smaller 'mentor groups' too, compared to the 'class-wide' lessons. However, I say this because each AWLM does eventually lead one of the 'class-wide' lessons for whichever weyrling class they are assigned to, not just their small mentor group."

Giving her a moment to absorb all that information, Ko'ssen took a sip of the juice in front of him before asking a mostly simple few questions "I know you've not been a full Rider for more than a few turns, based on your weyrling class, but how long were you a candidate before impressing? Have you had a chance, either as a long-term candidate or since joining the Wings, to shadow someone or be their assistant? And just to clarify *why* I'm asking this, I'm not just asking for the paperwork side of being an assistant, but for being able to observe someone in a more 'leading' type position handling the people that fall under them, similar to how an AWLM would be handling the weyrlings under them."

Overall, with his words and attitude Ko'ssen wasn't giving off the impression of declining her request to be an AWLM, he was only trying to not just give *her* more information, but also get more information himself of the rider seeking this AWLM position. He was trying to be *careful*, considering this next weyrling class would have 2 gold weyrlings in it...

On Wed, Aug 5, 2020 at 6:21 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Valesa's eyes widened, and she laughed. It never occurred to her that he didn't know who she was. Not that she considered herself popular, but over the Turns since she'd Impressed she'd made a lot of friends, and it was rare to go anywhere someone didn't know her.

"I'm sorry Weyrl...Ko'ssen. I'm Valesa, rider of green Elioth, of the Feast Crashers." She put her hands on the table and focused on him. "I know that I've only been a rider for four Turns, and I'm probably a bit young for the job, but sometimes people can relate to a younger person." 

{{And you're not shy, and not easily flustered,}} Elioth added. Valesa grinned, mentally shushing her dragon. Elioth was right, but if he didn't know her, he'd find out for himself.

On Tue, Aug 4, 2020 at 9:15 PM Rosiegirl <rosiegirl872@...> wrote:
Watching the young woman as she slid into the offered seat across from him, when she just started talking without taking the opening he'd left to introduce herself it actually took a second for Ko'ssen to catch up with her unexpected words. 

So, as she rambled before that first breath, Ko'ssen just blinked at her as he tried to listen, probably looking a little more awkward than he had before she had started speaking. 

When she finished the rush with asking about becoming an assistant weyrlingmaster, Ko'ssen sat there for a moment looking her over as he worked through everything she's said in such a rush. She looked young...much younger than any of his current AWLMs, but he wasn't sure how old she really was, and realistically she *could* have impressed very early as a candidate and so could have more years as a rider than he thought, so age wasn't necessarily an issue. 

However, instead of answering her initial question Ko'ssen held his hand out to her and said with a friendly smile "With such a large clutch on the Sands, I appreciate your interest in becoming an assistant weyrlingmaster and we can certainly talk about that. However, I apologize Miss. You know who I am, but I've not had the pleasure of meeting you before. Please, call me Ko'ssen. Even now it's still a little odd to just be called 'Weyrlingmaster.'"

On Tue, Aug 4, 2020 at 11:15 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
That was all she needed, just a way in. Without hesitation she slid into the seat across from him.

"I've been thinking...I need more to do. And even though my training has been mostly Healer, and some meal preparations, I'd rather be out and about with the dragons. Impressing Elioth changed my life--for the better, of course--but I've noticed that not everyone feels that way at first. Sure, they love their dragons, but it's a huge change, even though the Candidatemasters warn us about that change."

She stopped to take a breath, then chuckled. "Usually the most hardheaded ones are the ones Impressed. Probably because they have the mental strength to handle a dragon. So, I was wondering, what would it take to be an assistant weyrlingmaster?"

{{A bit rushed, but not bad.}}

(ooc: Short isn't bad. Some conversations are short, so...)

On Mon, Aug 3, 2020 at 1:00 AM Rosiegirl <rosiegirl872@...> wrote:

Sitting there at an out of the way table in the Dining Hall instead of his office, Ko’ssen was actually very surprised that he’d managed *nearly* a full meal without interruption. He was just finishing up the last of the roast herdbeast and steamed tubers when he heard a respectful voice asking after him. 

 

Pulling his head up, focusing not on the plates in front of him but on the tall, pretty, young woman, a greenrider based on her knots, who had approached the table he was sitting at, Ko’ssen straightened up even as he raised a napkin to wipe off his hands and then wipe at his mouth. It only took a moment cleaning up before he was saying politely as he gave a wave of his hand in silent invitation toward the seat across from him “Yes. How can I help you, Miss..?”



((OOC: Apologies for how short this reply is! Ko'ssen just...is surprised by a random greenrider approaching him and has no idea why she sought him out. Which was the plan. *grins*))

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On Sat, Aug 1, 2020 at 7:42 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
bump

On Wed, Jul 29, 2020 at 7:38 PM Laurie Hicks <laurie.lynne@...> wrote:
Lately Valesa had been wanting more. More what, she didn't know. While it didn't bring her down, she hadn't been quite as bubbly as normal. 

Maybe it was the eggs on the Sands. Ever Hatching, she remembered hers, where the earth moved, and all the dragons hatched at once. It was scary, but it was wonderful, with Elioth becoming hers. And maybe that was the thing: she wanted others to feel about their dragons the way she felt about hers.

{{Awww. You really like me,}} Elioth said, humor threaded through the words.

[[Well, yeah. It's been too quiet lately. I want to do something.]]

{{There are eggs on the Sands, and a Weyrlingmaster in the dining hall.}}

[[I'm too young. They won't take me seriously.]]

{{We've been together five Turns. Plenty of time to learn how to teach someone. Go. Zelenth's is in there.}}

That was an idea. While she'd rather talk to an assistant, talking to Ko'ssen would speed things up--for good or bad.

He was at an out of the way table. Perfect. She waited until he was almost done before walking up to him.

"Weyrlingmaster?" she said. Not exactly shyly; she wasn't a shy person. But with the right amount of respect.

On Mon, Jul 27, 2020 at 12:30 PM Rosiegirl <rosiegirl872@...> wrote:
It seemed...almost planned that Ko'ssen would run out of klah in his small office klah-pot right around the same time that his stomach rumbled, letting him know that he'd spent *much* too long in the office today. He'd had breakfast, but he'd been so focused he'd worked through lunch and now it was toward the end of dinner time when he unburied himself from his work enough to focus on the world around him. He slowly stretched in his chair, back popping as tense muscles and joints were pulled, and let out a yawn so wide his jaw sounded like it creaked. As he straightened up and let out a sigh of relief at the stretch, Ko'ssen decided he needed to follow his stomach's instructions and go and get some dinner. Then he'd be able to keep working. 

So, with the decision made, Ko'ssen quickly made his way out of the barracks and over to the dining hall. He headed through the large cavernous room to the buffet tables set up for dinner and, having skipped lunch, filled a plate with not just some meatrolls but a thick slab of roast herdbeast, some steamed mixed veggies, and a couple of fresh bread rolls. He'd even scooped into a bowl some thick meat and tuber stew. With that, he left the buffet table and headed to one of the small, back out of the way tables. On his way to the table he'd spotted, he asked one of the passing kitchen staff if they could please bring a small pitcher of chilled juice and a mug to his table, which earned the WLM a brisk nod. 

With that, Ko'ssen reached the table and before he could even tuck into his food the juice he'd asked for had arrived, which he thanked them for. Pouring himself a mug from the provided pitcher, he took a sip of the cold juice, letting it refresh him a bit in the heat, before setting the plate to one side and beginning on his bowl of stew. 


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