Trying to be Subtle atten: Tamalack/Kalain


For a long time Tamalack had been Kalain's best friend. They went a lot of places together and they had gone into the whercraft together. Now they had the only two tunnel whers in captivity and Kalain felt that made them even closer. Along the way somewhere he realized that his feelings had change from purely friendly, but he'd been hiding those feelings to try not to scare or drive Tam away. Now he was struggling. The urge to say something was strong, but so was the fear of rejection. Especially since Tam had never shown any interest in men.

Kalain was sitting with Sleak half in his lap, petting her as he brooded over the position he was in. The Whercraft barracks were nice and quiet for brooding.

Re: Is it ok to be happy and sad and mad? {Fellan, E'lis}


The thought actually made him feel even worse about everything
actually and he couldn't help frowning at himself and asking for the
who knew number of time ::Papa E'lis am I broken?::. He asked so many
times not all to E'lis, he had probably asked all the adult members of
his extended family at least once, but the problem was there was
always more to the thought that he forgot to ask in this case it was
his feelings about the hatching, but it had been other things before.

::No, my son,:: said E'lis. He had answered the question as such as many times as Fellan had asked. ::You are good enough just the way you are.:: He offered a hug, if the boy wanted one.

Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx


Brahn had settled on the nearby table and let out a little bugle of triumph as the first egg was revealed. It was clear that he was quite the proud father. Whether or not he would remember that come the next day was a different story. Flits and memory didn't often go together.

"This first one is an odd color," he said to Nyzara. Mostly green but swirls of a lot of different colors. I didn't know their eggs were as colorful as their larger cousins."

He hadn't had much experience with fire lizard eggs other than the one Brahn had hatched out of.

Re: Right Place + Right Time = Loneliness (Attn: Diagir/Ziya, Tamalak/Chato)


Ziya noticed the pair before Diagir did and sent the tunnelwher a welcoming call. Diagir, once he was finally able to see the pair, raised his hand in salute but tilted his head at the last thing Tamalak had said.

"Good advice, lad. But the question is, why is your wher wanting to bite?"

{Chato, yes?} Ziya asked. {Chato no bite, be good. Chato bite, no be good. Ziya no hurt Chato or twoleg.}
Out of the fire comes new life. Telgar Rises!

Are you afraid of the dark? Come play in the Shadow...

Right Place + Right Time = Loneliness (Attn: Any)


It had been three months since Tamalak's unexpected Impression to the tunnelwhere, Chato. The novelty for the other wherhandlers--both with and without whers--had worn off. Now he noticed that he was sometimes the recipient of dirty looks--usually when the others thought he wasn't looking.

This unfortunate circumstance had the detrimental side effect of turning him anti-social in the whercraft. When he wasn't needed for lessons or chores, he spent more and more time at the Weyr, where he was viewed as more of an oddity than as an object of envy. So when he saw someone heading towards him--Reirel, he thought--he put his head down and veered away.

~Why we go dis way?~ Chato asked.

"I'm avoiding people."


"They're jealous of you. They want to be the ones who have you and don't think I deserve you."

Chato sat. ~Dey can't have me. You all mine. Dey try, I bite.~ He showed his sharp teeth.

"No, you can't bite them. Then we'll both be in trouble."

By now, the other person was close enough to hear, if he so wanted to. Tamalak blushed, hoping he hadn't heard that last remark. Or any, for that matter.

This Is Unacceptable atten: Nayari/T'rif


Right after he finished his conversation with Andreya, T'rif took the note and marched right to Nayari's office to knock. He knew that M'ayen should never have been brought back and now he had proof.

What Were You Thinking, Boy? ((Attn: Asheran, Kassia, ))


"And what if you'd tripped and fell on an egg?" Kassia demanded with little rationality or pity left. "What if you both had and hit the eggs? Those eggs are still fragile. What if you'd hit the gold eggs. You would have deprived of potentially hundreds of eggs and dragons over that lifetime. Dragons that save your sorry arse from Thread on a sevenday basis."

Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx

Jessica Freise

Nyzara, who sometimes could be reticent, didn't mind C'lynx's chatter. She rather enjoyed his it, in fact. She squeezed his arm, excitement vibrating her slender, but tall, form.

"She has every right to be proud, as do we all." She smiled at him, unaware how very proud *she* looked of Flare even as the gold shifted around and revealed her first egg to C'lynx's probing gaze.

It was a wildly patterned thing, ranging from swirling greens to deep, almost bronze patches. While it certainly was no gold egg, it still seemed to have some majesty about it's form.

On Aug 18, 2020, at 6:22 AM, kepheren <kepheren@...> wrote:

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.

Threadfall: Balancing Skyfighter (C'fan, DRAGONHEALER, HEALER, any) #attnany


Your dragon fights to stay in place long enough to flame, succeeds, but tears some muscles in their right wing, sending you plummetting , barely in control towards the ground..

Threadfall had been good that day, nothing too terrible or at least that the bronzepair couldn’t handle. C’fan flew Resmeinth with the Direflames and helped burn plenty of good-sized clumps of Thread either completely or into bits that the blue and greenriders could handle. C’fan was watching the latest clump of char carefully to make sure that it was fully burnt when Resmeinth gave a screech and backwinged so sharply that C’fan bashed his nose on his dragon’s upraised back before he himself leaned back with his harness. He felt the rumbling in Resmeinth’s chest but also realized that the bronze was flapping irregularly now to keep steady. Resmeinth’s wings flew faster and more unevenly while waiting for the flame to come until, just as the gout of flame erupted and burned the thread, Resmeinth screamed as muscles in his right wing tore and sent him plummeting down to the ground.

C’fan held his own right shoulder in sympathy but let go in favor of hanging on to his straps as the ground approached swiftly. 

{{Resmeinth, pull up!}}

{{I’m trying!}} The bronze dragon spat back. {{Something is very wrong with my wing and I can’t move it!}}

C’fan had to act right now to save their lives. He unhooked himself from his riding harness, kept only his longest flight straps on, and started to climb up towards the injured wing. The wind tore at the man, pushing him and ripping right and left to dislodge him and take him away to his own death away from his dragon. C’fan held on, though, by nothing more than determination to save his dragon, and dared to climb out onto the injured wing.

{{C’fan, let go!}} Resmeinth begged. {{Another dragon will catch you!}}

He couldn’t let himself be distracted by the sound of the bronze begging. Resmeinth was too proud to beg but the human understood why the dragon was doing it. Still he kept on, getting to the thumb joint as carefully as he could and yanking the sail open and up. Resmeinth bellowed in agony but the stupid plan worked and the pair angled up just before hitting the ground. C’fan barely had time to see the brown dragon who had been angling to catch them before Resmeinth’s belly made contact with the ground. The sudden braking launched C’fan from his dragon as far as the cables would let him, but he had the greatest fortune to land in a numbweed bush. The plant immediately bruised and set to numbing what of C’fan was exposed and helped the physical pain.

What the leaves couldn’t help was the psychic pain that came from Resmeinth where his belly was torn up and bruised from landing. Yellow, red, orange, and white all swirled together in the bronze’s eyes as he moaned out in agony and reached a paw for his rider desperately. C’fan tried to struggle to his feet but couldn’t quite manage it.

{{I’m here, my friend,}} he called instead. {{See, you can sense me, I know it. Resmeinth, brave bronze, you are alive with me now. You’re safe! Stay with me…}}

{{C’fan, my C’fan,}} wailed the injured one, {{I need you! I need my rider!}} The last was broadcast so that anyone around could hear it.

Out of the fire comes new life. Telgar Rises!

Are you afraid of the dark? Come play in the Shadow...

Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx


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


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


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)


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.”


“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.