Date   

Re: This will have been worth the wait (Tyne/R'zzon)

Laurie
 

"I remember coming upon the two of you, talking. I remember being surprised. I don't remember anyone else around." He stepped back from the painting, also lost in the colors. "He captured both of you so...real. And...I love it."

Panagath stuck his head through the Weyr door from outside. {{I like it,}} he said, eyes whirling blue-green. {{I like it a lot.}}

R'zzon led Tyne back to the couch, where they could all look at it. He took his eyes off for a moment to kiss her deeply. "I love it. And I love you,}} he said.

On Mon, Sep 14, 2020 at 4:20 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
Leaving their dinner to simmer on the comandeered klah stove, Tyne had poured two glasses of wine, setting one on a low table for R'zzon and taking the other for herself to the couch as she curled up in the corner and waited. It had clearly delighted her to see the manner in which R'zzon pounced the package, pulling away the paper and strings that covered it. When it was finally uncovered, even she had momentarily been lost in a sea of colours, her dark brown eyes widening a little.

The canvas was reasonably large, approximately one yard square and what Fenlyn had captured wasn't what she had idly imagined could have been his choice from the sketches he had shown her. But at the same time... she wasn't surprised. And she remembered that moment. The whole piece was light, and colourful, projecting a feeling of deep intimacy and quiet calm. It was clearly the Lake but with a little artistic licence to play with the lighting in the background. And there, right in the middle was an image of herself captured in deep and animated conversation with Panagath. The blue's head was swung towards her, clearly paying attention to what was being said. There were no sombre undertones and even from the slight distance, as though captured through the eyes of a passerby, it was clear that Tyne was relaxed and lucid, even smiling slightly and whatever she was telling Panagath, she seemed enthusiastic and happy.

Getting quietly to her feet, Tyne slipped an arm around R'zzon's waist, feeling the warmth from his skin through his shirt as she pressed gently against his side. "I didn't know he'd picked that one," she said quietly, her eyes captured by the canvas. But she didn't seem remotely upset by that fact. Because she remembered that day. That moment. That conversation. And it was a good memory.


On Mon, Sep 14, 2020 at 3:29 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Truth be told, R'zzon wanted to tear into the package that minute, but he did want to get cleaned up. "Let me go change first, then I'll open it," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Several minutes later he came back and gleefully tore open the package. On the one hand he would have liked to savor the moment, but he could see the anticipation on Tyne's face, and the pleasure she got out of his eagerness.

Painting fully opened, he stepped back and stared at it. "Oh, Tyne," he said, his voice husky with emotion

On Sun, Sep 13, 2020 at 5:45 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
As soon as the bluerider walked in, it was as though a light had been turned on inside Tyne. She seemed to glow from top to bottom and the huge smile touched her entire face. Even her eyes. Wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing, Tyne stepped lightly across the room and slid her hands behind her waist. He had the distinct aroma of someone who had just been working very hard in flight leathers and it was a familiar scent that over time, she had remembered was one she was allowed to like. Pressing her lips gently to his cheek, Tyne's eyes held a glimmer of mischief. "Present. You can open it after you wash up, dinner will take a little while yet. Or you could give in to curiosity and open it now." Part of her wanted to make him wait, another part wanted to see the canvas in the next second.

"Dinner" was nothing extravagant. But was going to be hearty and most importantly, comforting. She had comandeered R'zzon's klah stove into a makeshift oven on which a pot was bubbling. She had put together a soup with chunky vegetables and several different types of fish including smoked yellowfish, whitefish and some of the shelled curlfish that the kitchens had been happy to deskin and vein for her before she had collected. All served up in a creamy, flavourful broth that would be served with thickly buttered slices of bread made fresh that afternoon. No, nothing special. But was the sort of meal that just... seemed to make everything feel a bit better. 

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 9:57 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Drills were over, and for a moment, R'zzon was disappointed. Drills were familiar. They were routine. Nothing bad happened during drills, rather, they were a constant that could be relied upon.

But, Tyne was going to be at his weyr tonight. She was welcome at any time, of course, but it made him happy to know she would be there. It was something he could easily get used to.

{{Me too,}} Panagath said brightly. 

It was nice that she and his dragon got on so well. Weird, but nice. Pan had never taken to anyone else he'd slept with...

{{Because they weren't going to last,}} the blue said. He landed on his ledge and R'zzon unfastened their straps. He wanted nothing more than to go see Tyne, but he also was not about to leave the straps just laying about, or Panagath's ledge messy. No, that was how one ended up hurt, or dead. He remembered the tale during Weyrling classes of people who left their straps lying around, then getting their feet tangled up in them and falling to their deaths. It could have been a story made up by the Weyrlingmasters, but it didn't matter. If someone thought of it, it could happen.

Soon, but not soon enough for him he entered his weyr. "Mm, something smells good," he said, then stopped. "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the package.

On Thu, Sep 10, 2020 at 6:16 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
IC Date Reference: Set approximately 4-5 days post hatching. Approximately IC date 8.28.9.2.

She had actually received the parcel from Harper Fenlyn several days before the explosion that had rocked the Caverns. Initially there had been all sorts of ideas as to how to present it to the Bluerider but they had gone on the backburner as the dragons keened. Desperate to escape the clawing tension in her mind, Tyne had spent several days throwing herself into the final work that the firelizard clinic needed before it could be opened to the Weyr's denizens. It had been a much needed distraction.

When the Hatching had finally come, they had sat there in the middle of the night, watching the dark shadows on the dimly lit Sands as disaster after disaster seemed to ensue. And all it did was fulfill the prophecy in her mind that the twin golds were nothing more than an omen of ill portent. As the screams of the blood-covered Candidate had rung around the Caverns as the Healers half carried her down the tunnels, it had been hard to stop her thoughts ricocheting to the parallels that she tried to conjure up in her own memory. Ironically, it was the girl who stuck in her thoughts far more than the poor boy who was ripped to pieces in front of their eyes.

It was clear that the Hatching had affected her and Tyne had been quiet and sombre in the immediate aftermath. But as the churning emotions settled, Tyne had turned her thoughts back towards the good things she had in her life. And after days of what seemed like endless sorrow, it felt as though now was the perfect time. 

She hadn't seen the finished piece herself but some preliminary sketches. The truth was, she couldn't wait to see it herself. She had every faith that what had been created would be something spectacular. So, Tyne had casually asked if R'zzon would like to have dinner at his weyr and if he would mind her letting herself in early whilst he was at wing drills so she could prepare it. Of course. part of that letting herself in early also involved carefully setting the large square package in the corner of his sitting area where the bluerider would spot it the moment he walked in. And as if there were nothing unusual going on, she had busied herself about with preparing their meal.

OoC: Hope you don't mind me setting this one up :)

--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


The unexpected arrival of a new friend. (SA Tyne)

Nutmeg
 

IC Date Reference: Set approximately three days post Hatching. IC date approx 8.28.8.31.



After the Hatching, she had found it easier to retreat to the solitude of her working space. It was almost finished. With the help of Panagath the wood for the doors had been collected and the doors assembled and hung. All she needed was to arrange a few more things and the doors would be open for the denizens of the Weyr to come with all and any firelizard enquiries. But for the moment, just this moment, it was a much needed place of solitude and quiet.


She was sitting in the Stands, arriving with the barely awake occupants that had heard the dragons begin to hum. And like many others, she had seen it all. Just like many, her eyes had been glued to the grisly scene that unfolded and she had been able to take little joy in the distraction that was the jubilant realisation that both golds had Impressed unharmed. Once upon a time, she had gotten in the way of a green hatchling too. One that she had spurned and still had the scars to show for it. The entire scene had struck a nerve that she had not thought about for many a Turn. For Tyne, she had spent the rest of the Hatching wondering about the fate that had befallen the girl that was taken from the Sands, resisting the urge to run and hide as the blood-curdling screams of shock and pain began echoing up the tunnels before they were abruptly silenced. 


But even in the days after, it had loomed in her thoughts and the thoughts were ugly. The firelizards could see it and had clung to her more than ever. Although she had spent the nights with R’zzon and Panagath, needing and grateful for the comfort that their presence brought her, it hadn’t stopped her waking early one morning that it was still possible to think of it as the day before. She had lain there in the dark, listening to the soft and familiar sounds of R’zzon’s breathing, had tried to will herself back to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come and already she could feel the dark churn of thoughts beginning to swirl and skitter behind her eyes. Rather than disturb him, Tyne had slipped out of bed, thrown her clothes on and had quietly left the weyr, leaving a small note to tell R’zzon that her “mind had been swirling and she had gone to do some work in the clinic”. The Bluerider knew her well enough by now to interpret its meaning and wouldn’t be given cause for worry.


So, with a pot of tea set to brew and the glow baskets uncovered, Tyne had pulled out some of the small boxes of supplies that the Infirmary had provided her with and set to quietly sorting and inventorying them. It was nothing hugely important, bottles of redwort, jars of numbweed, vials of dragon oils and boxes of simple dressings designed for the most straightforward of wounds. But they were essentials and the task of needing to know what there was and where it had been stored was enough to begin to distract her thoughts from the dark needles of her memories and keep them pinned down in the present. The majority of the faire had stayed piled up on Panagath, sleeping in a pile of multi-coloured hides. But Bobbin and Tubber had woken when she had and had instinctively followed, softly chattering quiet nothings to one another as they hopped back and forth across the large table she had had made that would serve as a practical examination platform and in this case, somewhere to lay out the contents of the boxes she went through. Although the large outer doors and smaller inner door were closed, the light of the glows cast a soft outline around the edges to the rest of the world, the only indication that someone was there.


Deep in thought and absently sipping from the steaming mug that staved off the early morning chill, it was the clinking rattle of something being disturbed that brought Tyne’s thoughts out of numbers and cataloguing and saw her head jerking upwards. Bobbin and Tubber had heard it too, the gold and brown stopping in their relay of small bottles to search for its source. For a moment, a long moment, there was nothing. And just as Tyne was about to put it down to something falling of its own accord, she felt it. The tiny prickle of fear that wasn’t hers, the confusion. And the loss. It was small compared to that of even a human, but it was there. And it was raw and scared. The sharpness of it was palpable and despite its small size, very real. For the thousandth time, Tyne remembered why the firelizards were so much more important than people realised.


She didn’t recognise the thread that she felt. It wasn’t one of the wild regulars that popped in and out, nor the familiar thread of one she had encountered belonging to someone. It was hard to explain because so much of it was just feeling. But wild felt different to Impressed, just as Impressed felt different to Bonded and this one… this one was not quite right. Because part of it was there. Just as part of it was missing. “Where are you?” It was a quiet voice that spoke up, her head turning in the direction that Bobbin and Tubber seemed to have focused their own on. A dark corner of the clinic that the light of the uncovered glows didn’t quite seem to touch. But as her eyes adjusted, she caught the glimpse of glowing, whirling eyes. 


“Oh, sweetheart. I feel it. I do.” 


Reaching gently out, Tyne felt the familiar shift in the part of her head that was learning better and better how to let feelings do the talking for her. Much of the tools she had borrowed from those she had used with Myrandith but it had been a learning experience. And a very steep learning curve. The proverbial “olive branch” was gently reached out, one wrapped in commiseration and gentle colours of sympathy. She didn’t know what the newcomer had lost, but in firelizards it could be anything from the loss of their faire, feeling ousted from a human family after a new addition - even a babe and for those that had found humans, the loss of the one person in the world that they looked to for everything. She didn’t have to ask for Bobbin to extend the gentle wave of soft and walming calm; the gold had begun the moment she felt the grief and pain surrounding the interloper like a thick cloud. But the eyes stayed in the darkness, watching and whirling. And the echoes of pain ripplied around the stranger.


Without warning, the glimpse of the Caverns from high in the rafters flickered into view. Staring down at the bodies clad in their white robes but centred in its attention around one in particular, a blond haired boy. The surge of love and pride was twisted around the boy like an overlay of colour. His boy. Tyne’s first instinct was that perhaps this was a firelizard who had found the overwhelming and possessive stake of a dragonet too much to contend with and had severed the bond, fleeing in panic. But as the images shifted and flickered, she realised that she was so very, terribly wrong.


The boy, that boy was now coloured in red, the light of life leaving his eyes as the Healers clustered around him and like a glow finally dying, Tyne felt the colours of connection wilt and fade, tainted with the fear and pain that… were the boy’s last moments. The realisation was heavy as she realised that she felt the echoes of someone dying within the spaces of her mind. And the firelizard had felt it all. Had felt the rips and tears but had been compelled by its own terror to do nothing but stare and scream before exploding into darkness as the coldness of Between nipped and stung. And when she saw the Sands again in her mind’s eye, there was nothing left but the blood stains in the sand. The boy was gone. The firelizard had returned only to hunt through the sand as though what was lost, could be found again by coming back to that same spot over and over again. And every time it didn’t, Tyne felt as though things were a little further away than the time before. The sting of loneliness reared up, of not being sure what to do now that the light the firelizard tried desperately to find again refused to come back. Of considering the cold blackness, of escaping, of… of… something. But there was a different pain there as well, one that was sharp and fresh and spoke of… actual hurt. Not just emotional.


“Will you let me see? I promise you’re safe. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”


The soft and thrumming croon that Bobbin rolled around the room seemed to deepen and reverberate as though to emphasise this point. That they could help. That this was somewhere it was possible to feel safe again. But the newcomer didn’t seem to be quite convinced, the rattle of jars and bottles suggesting the fidgeting of limbs and the anxious remantling of wings. But slowly, agonisingly slowly, a shadow began to shift and move. Eventually, a small bronze head the colour of sandy dunes appeared, eyes blinking in the sudden shift from dark to light. The rest of him was hidden as the head stretched forward, dark smudges on his neck suggesting that his colours shifted from sandy bronze to something darker along his body.


“Well, aren’t you the handsome one?” And Tyne fed it with subtle undertones of admiration, supplemented by Bobbin’s warbling croon and warm feelings of agreement. He was very handsome. Bolstered by the compliment from not one but two females, the bronze chirruped quietly, hopping forward a little more. He was slim, not bulky with heavy muscle but his forepaws were raw and sore from the hot sand that he had dug through again and again. “Oh, sweetling.” Tyne saw the glisten of wet underskin and the greenish tinge of ichor. How many times had he looked? Had pushed through hot sand in desperate search of something that was never going to be there regardless of how much it hurt? And then the prickle of shame and the bronze moved his paws as if hiding them from view like a child hiding an injury caused by doing something they knew they shouldn’t have been in the first place. Bobbin was quick to offer the reassurance that a gold knew how to do best and felt the strained thread of connection ease just a little, relaxing under the buffet of the gold’s calming influence. “You have nothing to feel ashamed of, beautiful boy. I know what it is to search for something you already know will never be there again.” She felt the hot swell of emotion in her chest even as the tiny sliver of comparable loss was threaded along the connection like a thread going through the eye of a needle, received with surprise at the bronze by the other end to feel something so very similar in a human. The shape of it was different, but oh how similar the raw feelings running through it were.


Tyne felt a shift, something that felt like a sagging of relief that finally someone could understand. The wild firelizards often didn’t as they had never felt it. The Impressed ones often couldn’t because they couldn’t imagine it. Inch by inch, more of the small bronze - the one that had to Sorho, been known as “Sanji” - appeared into the light. Beside Tyne, Tubber had offered his own small contribution, gently nudging along to the bronze that this was perhaps the safest place they had. That no harm would be allowed to come to them, that safety and unity and family were the most important things in this place. Their family was strange with their two-legged “Queen” but she understood all of them best of all. Because she listened. 


As the small bronze slowly made his way across the room, carefully hopping from shelves to boxes, Tyne encompassed him with the sensation of being welcome. That from her and those with her, he had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. That all she wanted was to ease a little of the pain that she could and if he wanted, he would be free to go afterwards. There was no obligation, no trap. Just the deep desire to be there for him. Settling carefully on the table’s edge, Tyne could feel the nervous desire to flee but that it was growing curious about Bobbin, about Tubber and not entirely surprising, about her. “Will you show me, handsome boy? I just want to took.” She laid her palm on the table but not immediately near the firelizard, felt the surge of suspicion and the thrum of reassurance from Bobbin in response that all would be well if he did. Taking one tentative step at a time, the bronze hopped forward before pressing the tiny forepaws into Tyne’s hand, the brighter light showing that they had been all but skinned raw by the hot and abrasive sand in the Hatching Caverns. “We can make that feel better for you, sweetling. And then you are welcome to do as you please.” Her discerning eye already noticed the beginnings of a slight patchiness to the bronze’s hide, no doubt dried out further if he had been in the hot caverns. And her heart ached again.


With the gentle emphasis from Bobbin that the bronze would need to stay for just a while and then he would be allowed to leave if he wanted, it hadn’t taken Tyne long to gather a small bowl of water, clean dry rags, a jar of salve and another jar of dried meat. The bronze’s nose had lifted sharply into the air the moment the lid was removed and the gurgle from his gullet spoke as loudly as the flicker of hungry red that skittered into his eyes. “I thought as much.” Food seemed… pointless. Unimportant compared to the aching need to search for what you knew should be there. Again she felt the flicker of surprise at the understanding but it didn’t stop the bronze snatching up the dry meat that was brought carefully to him by Bobbin, the gold clutching small fistfuls as she hopped across the table, chiding him to slow down as she might an errant hatchling fresh out of the egg. The promise of more afterwards was as much a lure as the promise of easing the burning ache in his paws and despite the curiosity about him, the bronze tentatively pushed his paws into the cool water where the fine grains of ingrained sand were able to float free. 


This time, it was Bobbin and Tubber who stepped in, Tyne not wanting to startle the creature. The pair of firelizards used their own paws to gently agitate the water around the bronze’s forelimbs, crooning softly at him and Tyne felt the warm cocoon they wrapped around him, that they would help, that they weren’t anything to be afraid of and neither was their human. The bronze seemed to droop slightly, even as Bobbin butted him gently with her own tiny head and Tyne felt some of the burning, stinging ache relieve just a little in the cool movement of the water and felt the tension it caused ease just slightly. The pair of firelizards guided the bronze to the waiting rags, using their own tiny paws to pat gently at the raw paws of the bronze before Bobbin nudged him gently but firmly towards Tyne. He was going to let her help. It was a small thought, no, a sensation from the gold. Like so many other exchanges it was a wordless shape of understanding. 


As the bronze hesitantly stepped closer, Tyne spooned some of the salve into a small pot, briefly sharing the idea that he needed to submerge his paws just as he had in the water as she nudged the pot towards him. The sensation of the relief it caused was immediate and Tyne watched his body sag forwards as the burning faded in the cool and slightly tingling sensation that the salve elicited. Even as he drooped forward, Tyne tentatively pushed forward more pieces of meat that would be within reach. He managed a few but as the pain ebbed, the tendrils of exhaustion were quick to creep up and fill the spaces that the pain had claimed. Bobbin settled beside him, chittering softly as her paws gently preened the bronze and Tubber hopped onto another shelf and quickly found one of the soft scraps of fur that Tyne kept about for makeshift blankets. A box, Tyne was instructed by the rotund brown. They needed a box. The imperious demand from the normally lazy brown made her raise a brow in some surprise. But she complied, fetching a box that she was informed was the correct size. For what, she had no idea. But even as she did, Bobbin had gently instructed the bronze to remove his paws and was now, just as gently, patting them with the corner of a rag, removing the excess of the salve.


As the box was set down and the scraps of fur dropped into it by Tubber, Tyne was a little surprised to realise that both Bobbin and Tubber were instructing her to leave. Even as Bobbin guided the exhausted bronze towards the box on the table, nudging him to climb into the furs. He was going to sleep and they would stay with him. He needed a different type of comfort that humans, not even Tyne, could give him right now. And when he was ready, they would call for her. But not until then. He needed to rest. As the bronze collapsed into the furs, aching from the tiredness that clung to his bones, Bobbin and then Tubber climbed in around him. Immediately the gold and brown wrapped themselves around him, the gold suffusing him with comfort as Tyne pushed her seat back from the table, taking the cue to leave.


All she could do now, as she stepped outside to a world that was beginning to wake, the hustle and bustle of its denizens beginning to go about their day. Stopping by the kitchens for a breakfast basket, Tyne returned to R’zzon’s weyr where she would spend her day waiting for… well, she wasn’t sure what it would be. But she would wait, nonetheless.


= End =



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Meeting of accidental thieves {Qabil, Trifali}

Kouga
 

"I wondered," Trifali said, "If you'd seen a small figurine when you came by. My sister gave it to me and I regard it as precious."<<
Qabil considered for a moment weather she knew anything about a
figurine before shaking her head "No. I have not seen any figurines."
she offered considering the other female "Where was it? I can help
look while they get more ready to go." she added looking around the
room and at the other people in it.

ooc; ah yay auto correct, also sorry delayed reply, but here it is if
ya wanna continue

*Kouga*

Join the Aywas fun - http://aywas.com/register.php?ref=768

"My personality is 30% the last anime I watched." - Tumblr
"Remind me never to get out our bad side. It seems to be ...
unhealthy." - Varric
"Death By Apple Pie a lovely poem by our friend Cole" - Dorian


Re: Clutching Time: attn Nyzara / C'lynx

kepheren
 

"Much larger of course," C'lynx replied with a chuckle. "But more than that. No offense to your little gold but there is a certain majesty to the full sized ones. A sense of....power I suppose. You can almost feel the little minds inside growing and yearning to be free."

It was a hard feeling to explain really.

"Oh. I think the next one is here."


Re: Trying to be Subtle atten: Tamalack/Kalain

sailyn2
 

Kalain was never going to stop being red, was he? He felt shaky all over, but in a good way. He'd never felt anything so perfect in his life except his bond about Sleek.

Sleek! He checked in with her quickly, but she was sitting and watching, her tendrils vibrating.

"I liked that," he said now that he knew his lifemate was okay so far. He raised his hands to wrap around Tam's waist as he leaned in for another kiss. This one was deeper and more probing like he'd heard people did.


Re: This will have been worth the wait (Tyne/R'zzon)

Nutmeg
 

Leaving their dinner to simmer on the comandeered klah stove, Tyne had poured two glasses of wine, setting one on a low table for R'zzon and taking the other for herself to the couch as she curled up in the corner and waited. It had clearly delighted her to see the manner in which R'zzon pounced the package, pulling away the paper and strings that covered it. When it was finally uncovered, even she had momentarily been lost in a sea of colours, her dark brown eyes widening a little.

The canvas was reasonably large, approximately one yard square and what Fenlyn had captured wasn't what she had idly imagined could have been his choice from the sketches he had shown her. But at the same time... she wasn't surprised. And she remembered that moment. The whole piece was light, and colourful, projecting a feeling of deep intimacy and quiet calm. It was clearly the Lake but with a little artistic licence to play with the lighting in the background. And there, right in the middle was an image of herself captured in deep and animated conversation with Panagath. The blue's head was swung towards her, clearly paying attention to what was being said. There were no sombre undertones and even from the slight distance, as though captured through the eyes of a passerby, it was clear that Tyne was relaxed and lucid, even smiling slightly and whatever she was telling Panagath, she seemed enthusiastic and happy.

Getting quietly to her feet, Tyne slipped an arm around R'zzon's waist, feeling the warmth from his skin through his shirt as she pressed gently against his side. "I didn't know he'd picked that one," she said quietly, her eyes captured by the canvas. But she didn't seem remotely upset by that fact. Because she remembered that day. That moment. That conversation. And it was a good memory.


On Mon, Sep 14, 2020 at 3:29 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Truth be told, R'zzon wanted to tear into the package that minute, but he did want to get cleaned up. "Let me go change first, then I'll open it," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Several minutes later he came back and gleefully tore open the package. On the one hand he would have liked to savor the moment, but he could see the anticipation on Tyne's face, and the pleasure she got out of his eagerness.

Painting fully opened, he stepped back and stared at it. "Oh, Tyne," he said, his voice husky with emotion

On Sun, Sep 13, 2020 at 5:45 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
As soon as the bluerider walked in, it was as though a light had been turned on inside Tyne. She seemed to glow from top to bottom and the huge smile touched her entire face. Even her eyes. Wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing, Tyne stepped lightly across the room and slid her hands behind her waist. He had the distinct aroma of someone who had just been working very hard in flight leathers and it was a familiar scent that over time, she had remembered was one she was allowed to like. Pressing her lips gently to his cheek, Tyne's eyes held a glimmer of mischief. "Present. You can open it after you wash up, dinner will take a little while yet. Or you could give in to curiosity and open it now." Part of her wanted to make him wait, another part wanted to see the canvas in the next second.

"Dinner" was nothing extravagant. But was going to be hearty and most importantly, comforting. She had comandeered R'zzon's klah stove into a makeshift oven on which a pot was bubbling. She had put together a soup with chunky vegetables and several different types of fish including smoked yellowfish, whitefish and some of the shelled curlfish that the kitchens had been happy to deskin and vein for her before she had collected. All served up in a creamy, flavourful broth that would be served with thickly buttered slices of bread made fresh that afternoon. No, nothing special. But was the sort of meal that just... seemed to make everything feel a bit better. 

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 9:57 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Drills were over, and for a moment, R'zzon was disappointed. Drills were familiar. They were routine. Nothing bad happened during drills, rather, they were a constant that could be relied upon.

But, Tyne was going to be at his weyr tonight. She was welcome at any time, of course, but it made him happy to know she would be there. It was something he could easily get used to.

{{Me too,}} Panagath said brightly. 

It was nice that she and his dragon got on so well. Weird, but nice. Pan had never taken to anyone else he'd slept with...

{{Because they weren't going to last,}} the blue said. He landed on his ledge and R'zzon unfastened their straps. He wanted nothing more than to go see Tyne, but he also was not about to leave the straps just laying about, or Panagath's ledge messy. No, that was how one ended up hurt, or dead. He remembered the tale during Weyrling classes of people who left their straps lying around, then getting their feet tangled up in them and falling to their deaths. It could have been a story made up by the Weyrlingmasters, but it didn't matter. If someone thought of it, it could happen.

Soon, but not soon enough for him he entered his weyr. "Mm, something smells good," he said, then stopped. "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the package.

On Thu, Sep 10, 2020 at 6:16 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
IC Date Reference: Set approximately 4-5 days post hatching. Approximately IC date 8.28.9.2.

She had actually received the parcel from Harper Fenlyn several days before the explosion that had rocked the Caverns. Initially there had been all sorts of ideas as to how to present it to the Bluerider but they had gone on the backburner as the dragons keened. Desperate to escape the clawing tension in her mind, Tyne had spent several days throwing herself into the final work that the firelizard clinic needed before it could be opened to the Weyr's denizens. It had been a much needed distraction.

When the Hatching had finally come, they had sat there in the middle of the night, watching the dark shadows on the dimly lit Sands as disaster after disaster seemed to ensue. And all it did was fulfill the prophecy in her mind that the twin golds were nothing more than an omen of ill portent. As the screams of the blood-covered Candidate had rung around the Caverns as the Healers half carried her down the tunnels, it had been hard to stop her thoughts ricocheting to the parallels that she tried to conjure up in her own memory. Ironically, it was the girl who stuck in her thoughts far more than the poor boy who was ripped to pieces in front of their eyes.

It was clear that the Hatching had affected her and Tyne had been quiet and sombre in the immediate aftermath. But as the churning emotions settled, Tyne had turned her thoughts back towards the good things she had in her life. And after days of what seemed like endless sorrow, it felt as though now was the perfect time. 

She hadn't seen the finished piece herself but some preliminary sketches. The truth was, she couldn't wait to see it herself. She had every faith that what had been created would be something spectacular. So, Tyne had casually asked if R'zzon would like to have dinner at his weyr and if he would mind her letting herself in early whilst he was at wing drills so she could prepare it. Of course. part of that letting herself in early also involved carefully setting the large square package in the corner of his sitting area where the bluerider would spot it the moment he walked in. And as if there were nothing unusual going on, she had busied herself about with preparing their meal.

OoC: Hope you don't mind me setting this one up :)

--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: This will have been worth the wait (Tyne/R'zzon)

Laurie
 

Truth be told, R'zzon wanted to tear into the package that minute, but he did want to get cleaned up. "Let me go change first, then I'll open it," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Several minutes later he came back and gleefully tore open the package. On the one hand he would have liked to savor the moment, but he could see the anticipation on Tyne's face, and the pleasure she got out of his eagerness.

Painting fully opened, he stepped back and stared at it. "Oh, Tyne," he said, his voice husky with emotion

On Sun, Sep 13, 2020 at 5:45 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
As soon as the bluerider walked in, it was as though a light had been turned on inside Tyne. She seemed to glow from top to bottom and the huge smile touched her entire face. Even her eyes. Wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing, Tyne stepped lightly across the room and slid her hands behind her waist. He had the distinct aroma of someone who had just been working very hard in flight leathers and it was a familiar scent that over time, she had remembered was one she was allowed to like. Pressing her lips gently to his cheek, Tyne's eyes held a glimmer of mischief. "Present. You can open it after you wash up, dinner will take a little while yet. Or you could give in to curiosity and open it now." Part of her wanted to make him wait, another part wanted to see the canvas in the next second.

"Dinner" was nothing extravagant. But was going to be hearty and most importantly, comforting. She had comandeered R'zzon's klah stove into a makeshift oven on which a pot was bubbling. She had put together a soup with chunky vegetables and several different types of fish including smoked yellowfish, whitefish and some of the shelled curlfish that the kitchens had been happy to deskin and vein for her before she had collected. All served up in a creamy, flavourful broth that would be served with thickly buttered slices of bread made fresh that afternoon. No, nothing special. But was the sort of meal that just... seemed to make everything feel a bit better. 

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 9:57 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Drills were over, and for a moment, R'zzon was disappointed. Drills were familiar. They were routine. Nothing bad happened during drills, rather, they were a constant that could be relied upon.

But, Tyne was going to be at his weyr tonight. She was welcome at any time, of course, but it made him happy to know she would be there. It was something he could easily get used to.

{{Me too,}} Panagath said brightly. 

It was nice that she and his dragon got on so well. Weird, but nice. Pan had never taken to anyone else he'd slept with...

{{Because they weren't going to last,}} the blue said. He landed on his ledge and R'zzon unfastened their straps. He wanted nothing more than to go see Tyne, but he also was not about to leave the straps just laying about, or Panagath's ledge messy. No, that was how one ended up hurt, or dead. He remembered the tale during Weyrling classes of people who left their straps lying around, then getting their feet tangled up in them and falling to their deaths. It could have been a story made up by the Weyrlingmasters, but it didn't matter. If someone thought of it, it could happen.

Soon, but not soon enough for him he entered his weyr. "Mm, something smells good," he said, then stopped. "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the package.

On Thu, Sep 10, 2020 at 6:16 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
IC Date Reference: Set approximately 4-5 days post hatching. Approximately IC date 8.28.9.2.

She had actually received the parcel from Harper Fenlyn several days before the explosion that had rocked the Caverns. Initially there had been all sorts of ideas as to how to present it to the Bluerider but they had gone on the backburner as the dragons keened. Desperate to escape the clawing tension in her mind, Tyne had spent several days throwing herself into the final work that the firelizard clinic needed before it could be opened to the Weyr's denizens. It had been a much needed distraction.

When the Hatching had finally come, they had sat there in the middle of the night, watching the dark shadows on the dimly lit Sands as disaster after disaster seemed to ensue. And all it did was fulfill the prophecy in her mind that the twin golds were nothing more than an omen of ill portent. As the screams of the blood-covered Candidate had rung around the Caverns as the Healers half carried her down the tunnels, it had been hard to stop her thoughts ricocheting to the parallels that she tried to conjure up in her own memory. Ironically, it was the girl who stuck in her thoughts far more than the poor boy who was ripped to pieces in front of their eyes.

It was clear that the Hatching had affected her and Tyne had been quiet and sombre in the immediate aftermath. But as the churning emotions settled, Tyne had turned her thoughts back towards the good things she had in her life. And after days of what seemed like endless sorrow, it felt as though now was the perfect time. 

She hadn't seen the finished piece herself but some preliminary sketches. The truth was, she couldn't wait to see it herself. She had every faith that what had been created would be something spectacular. So, Tyne had casually asked if R'zzon would like to have dinner at his weyr and if he would mind her letting herself in early whilst he was at wing drills so she could prepare it. Of course. part of that letting herself in early also involved carefully setting the large square package in the corner of his sitting area where the bluerider would spot it the moment he walked in. And as if there were nothing unusual going on, she had busied herself about with preparing their meal.

OoC: Hope you don't mind me setting this one up :)

--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Guess Where I Was Yesterday? (Attn: Dytha/Mendl)

Laurie
 

"That would have been helpful to have," Mendl said. "It was hot there, too. I'd had to send several bronzes out to bring her ice from the North. She needed water, and she was overheating. Plus, what she didn't eat/drink I used at the end to help bring the swelling down."  She thought for a moment.

"Might be something we want on hand. Always have ice brought in during a Clutching. Foreth went after the ice like a starving feline.Not all golds tell their riders if they need something." She shrugged. "Maybe even she didn't know."

On Sun, Sep 13, 2020 at 5:18 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
Her friend's enthusiasm was a pleasure to see. Not many people would think of such a thing as practically an adventure. But then, Mendl was made of better stuff than some of the fluffy Apprentices they had that seemed to think Dragonhealing was a glamorous Craft. No, most of the time it was messy. And ugly. Dytha knew well enough what fed her friend's enthusiasm and it hadn't stopped the grin that unfolded on her face.

"Nice save," she commented with a chuckle. "I'm going to have to take notes from you to add to my Journeyman's project. I could use a section about observations from the time of clutching. Could lead to some insight about potential treatments to have on hand or whether it might be worth implementing a regime of encouraging a Gold to take in bone broth to keep up her strength. I've already drawn up some speculations that long delays between eggs could be attributed to internal muscle cramping from lack of nutrients. I imagine they burn through a lot of energy."

On Fri, Sep 11, 2020 at 1:18 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
"Yeah, that makes sense. And, when I helped with the Gilded Cage egg, boy did my hands get in there. As well as arms." She beamed. "But it was glorious! Just to be there! It might be the only time I get to help a queen with her eggs, and it was just so exciting." 

Realizing she sounded less than sympathetic, she dialed down her excitement. "I wouldn't wish that on any dragon, flit, canine, feline, whatever, though. It really was hard on her."

On Thu, Sep 10, 2020 at 5:08 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
"From what I understand, the dragons have uterine horns, not dissimilar to canines and the eggs develop along them," Dytha said. "I found a partial drawing in some of the old hides the Old Timers left behind." Of course, it wasn't as though they'd ever be able to take a look inside a dragon for themselves to confirm if that were true. But she had a needling suspicion that the Second Pass "scientists" - whatever they were - had had no such qualms.

"It seems to have a lot of similarities to canines in that respect. I've looked at some notes side by side. Much as a large pup can cause issues for a bitch, a large egg can cause issues for a gold - and causes a back up if not risk of serious complications if not remedied quickly. Beastcrafters have to get their hands in there so it makes sense that Dragonhealers might have to adopt a similar response in some situations."

On Thu, Aug 20, 2020 at 12:48 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Mendl wished she could give Dytha something to help her, but she knew there was only so much anyone could do. She was a couple Turns younger than her friend, so figured that anything that could be tried already had been tried. Though there were some of the medicinal plants from Old Sef...

"Fascinating. She gets really uncomfortable at first, and then pushes, just like a human would. But there are a bunch of them, and some are bigger than others so harder to push out. It didn't seem like it hurt...until the gold egg. But then, she was pretty exhausted by then."

On Wed, Aug 19, 2020 at 4:46 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
"Rather you than me, I think!" Dytha said with a laugh. "I always find myself feeling I need eyes in the back of my head whenever we do anything with the ranking dragons. Maybe that's why I like eggs so much!" She shifted in her seat a little, clearly trying to make herself comfortable and her face grimaced slightly, the only response to the family stab of pain that cheerfully told Dytha she had managed to pop another lesion open. She was soaking her feet tonight if it killed her. 

Mendl got a playful wrinkle of her nose in reply to her jest. "No, I didn't have visitors. R'bor is currently drowning in paperwork. Besides, I know how to deal with it. I don't like to see him worrying. That and I like swearing to myself when no one can hear me." The twinkle of good humour was tainted by the tiredness in her features, already it had been interfering with her sleep and reluctantly, she knew that soon she would have to speak to the Healers about getting her nightly dose of fellis tea.

"So go on then, what was it like to actually see a dragon laying?" 

On Sun, Aug 2, 2020 at 1:10 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
"Actually, no. I'm not going to go as far as to say Foreth likes me, but she seems to tolerate me better than any of the other apprentices." She shrugged. "Maybe she respects the fact that I'm not afraid of her? I don't know. All I know is, she asked for me!" Mendl did a little hop-skip at that.

"So, I got to watch. And wait. With the Weyrwoman. Which was kind of uncomfortable at first, but in the end, it really wasn't too bad." She felt bad for going on about her good luck, not dreaming that no one else would view it that way.  

"I'm sorry to hear your feet were bad. Did you have any visitors?" She waggled her brows.

On Tue, Jul 28, 2020 at 4:27 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
Dytha frowned a little in mild confusion as though a sentence had been skipped somewhere. "Having trouble? You mean with the clutching?" She had known that Mendl had been assisting in the recovery of the gold's recent leg injury. Rather Mendl than her, to be honest. Something about Foreth made Dytha feel she needed eyes in the back of her head. Listening carefully to her friend, it took Dytha a moment to put it all together. "Wait, she asked for you to come to the Sands by name? Jumping flits, weren't you afraid you'd get eaten?!" Dytha chuckled with amusement but it was more influenced by the starstruck expression on her friend's face.

On Sat, Jul 25, 2020 at 3:24 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
"We-ell," Mendl said, drawing the word out, but she couldn't take it anymore. 

"Foreth was having trouble, and you know how I've been taking care of her leg? Well, she told Kassia--I mean, the Weyrwoman--that if any healer-types were going to be in there, it was to be me." She beamed. Not only did the most powerful dragon in the Weyr like her, she asked for her. Specifically. And Mendl was having trouble just getting over that little fact.

On Sat, Jul 25, 2020 at 5:29 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
Immediately Dytha could tell that something was going on. With an expression of mild bemusement, she glanced at Mendl, her lips curling slowly. "Unfortunately I gave it a miss. Chose a night of feet up and some fellis tea over trying to dance." She turned in her seat to face the Candidate, saying nothing for a moment as she inspected the girl, taking in her entire demeanour. "However I get the distinct impression that you're not actually remotely interested in the party." It wasn't an accusation, not the way the blue eyes twinkled. "And you're bouncing like you've been swimming in klah. You don't bounce. Ever."

Of course, she could completely appreciate that it was entirely possible that the girl was just over the moon with the news and for a moment, Dytha almost wished that she had had that experience herself but quickly shushed it. It was like wondering what it was like to feel the sun on your face for the first time after already having gotten used to it for turns.

On Sat, Jul 25, 2020 at 12:33 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
"Oh, there you are!" Mendl chirped, peeking into the prep room. She'd already tried several others, but the dragon Infirmary wasn't that big.

Okay, it was. At least, the enclaves where they kept the sick dragons were. And the outside-facing rooms that dragons could come into, if need be. Inclement weather was a way of life and neither human nor draconic wanted to be looked at in the cold, or wind, or rain.

She bounced into the room and pulled up a seat. Since Mendle had never bounced, or chirped, in her life, anyone who knew her would know something was up. She grabbed a few small, empty jars and began filling them with powdered willowbark. "So," she said casually, "how was the party?"


On Fri, Jul 24, 2020 at 10:48 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
It was hard not to feel the undertones of excitement that were trickling about the Weyr. Even Ponth was curious, demanding to know how ONE gold could have TWO gold eggs. It just didn't happen! She had started shift early that morning and with her feet playing up, had been set to dispensing assorted treatments and salves into bottles and jars. That way she could keep the weight off her feet and still be doing something productive.

She was tucked in one of the small prep rooms off the Infirmary, carefully measuring out the amounts she needed and funnelling them carefully into the jars. Oddly, she found the astringent smell about her to be rather comforting, making a mental note to keep one of the jars of numbweed to one side to be signed out for herself. She wasn't quite at the point of needing her crutch, but the dull and constant ache in her legs was somewhat alleviated by not spending the day running around.

On Mon, Jul 20, 2020 at 11:47 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Mendl got back to the Candidate Barracks tired, dirty...and elated. She would happily miss every party in the future if she got to experience this type of thing every time. Imagine! She saw all of Foreth's eggs laid. She saw the two gold eggs! She got to hold (well, briefly) one of the two gold eggs. 

Granted, she wouldn't wish this on Foreth ever again, but, well, shards and shells! 

She went into the bathing pool in the Barracks to wash off the dirt and fluids. She felt so grubby, but she didn't care. 

The pool in the Candidate Barracks was always the perfect temperature, but when Mendl fell asleep and fell under the water, spluttering her way back to air, she decided it was time to sleep. Some candidates were quietly talking; some were still at the party. She just wanted to go to bed.

*****
The next morning, the first thing she did was seek out Dytha. Her friend had to be dying to know what Mendl experienced!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: I'm working on something, something big (Dytha/Larsin)

Laurie
 

"Yes, yes, I'm interested to see how this is going," Larsin said, "But first, when were you planning on telling me what happened to you?"

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 7:09 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
As the door slowly opened, Dytha carefully shuffled in. Larsin had probably already spotted her about her Infirmary and realised that her feet were giving her trouble. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir. I was... hoping you were free to talk about my project a while. I've got some new ideas." For someone already ridiculously short, everything about her seemed to make her a bit smaller in the room. Maybe it was the unassuming posture that seemed to pull in on itself. Or the fact she was struggling to meet Larsin's eye.

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 11:18 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
It had taken Larsin every bit of self-control he possessed to not go check on Dytha, not say something, act like everything was fine after Mendl had come to him with her concerns. He didn't want to break Mendl's confidence, even though Dytha probably wouldn't be all that upset about it. 

But if she came in to see him, all bets were off. Putting down his pencil, he leaned back in his seat.

"Yes Dytha? Come in."

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 5:15 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
IC Date Reference: Set approximately 8.28.9.4

There was two reasons she had waited around a sevenday after the Hatching before she went to speak to Master Larsin. For one reason, it meant that the bruising around her face had almost completely faded, leaving only a hint of discoloration. Oblivious to the fact that Mendl had already spoken to him, Dytha didn't want to give her Master any cause to question her. Of all people, Larsin was someone she didn't know how well she would be able to hold herself together if needled. For the other, she had wanted to finalise some notes and put together some of the samples she had been working on before she went to speak with him.

If she got this right, Dytha knew that it meant her Journeyman's knots would be in the bag in a few turns' time. Providing it all went to plan. With a small document folder under one arm and a small bag secured by the other, Dytha had decided to forgo the crutch in favour of being able to navigate door handles. And besides, it would do her good to have something to distract her from H'lan accosting her in the tunnel a few nights earlier. Thank Faranth that other Healer had come around the corner when she had. That's all she could say.

With a deep intake of breath to steady herself, Dytha knocked sharply on her Master's office door. "Master Larsin? Are you there? It's Dytha,"

--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Trying to be Subtle atten: Tamalack/Kalain

Laurie
 

He'd never kissed anyone before, other than the occasional peck on the cheek from his mother, and then Margana, when he was little. His insides got warm and gushy, and he had a melty feeling all over.  

"It was nice," Tamalak said. "You're the first person I've ever kissed. I like it; I feel all fuzzy-but in a good way. Let's do it again?"

On Sat, Sep 12, 2020 at 6:27 PM sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:
Kalain thought he'd go up in flames and he felt a bit dizzy. He'd imagined this a lot and now it was happening and his brain couldn't quite process it. He slid his own arms around his best friend and returned the kiss. They remained locked together until he had to pull away, breathless.

"How...how was that?" he asked nervously.


Rule-Breaking Regrets (Garatt/M'ayen)

Laura Walker
 

It had been a miserable day. Garatt had spent most of it desperately trying to think of anything he had ever known to make M’ayen go away.


And he had.. Nothing. Not what Asheran’s girlfriend had been called. Not who Asheran had kissed. Not who he might have planned it with. Not a thing. Just the knowledge that somewhere out there Asheran had brothers and a sister and the bewilderingly exciting memory of Asheran going on and on about naked wet girls. Which was probably not going to help.


(Leave aside whether he would have given up that information to save himself, leave off his conscience what it made him that he would have in a heartbeat if it got him out of another session like the last. Asheran was big and M’ayen wouldn’t dare touch him and also Asheran had left, and left Garatt with his firelizard to explain what had happened. This was not Garatt’s fault; even if the fact he was ready to blurt anything he knew if he had known anything to blurt felt like betrayal.)


He had nothing, and he still had nothing when he took himself to M’ayen’s office after dinner that night (better to take himself than be dragged, even if he threw up the little he had eaten first). All he could do was take himself and pray the little information he had to give yesterday was enough (it was never going to be enough).


He was bewildered all over again when he was called in to find what looked like a selection of his essays spread over M’ayen’s desk. The ACM gestured with a finger that he should stand in front of his desk.


“What are these?”


“They’re-- my essays?” He kept his hands safely clasped behind his back, not wanting to touch them. Hands felt like something that should be kept away from M’ayen wherever possible. Still, he could recognise his own handwriting.


“Are they now?” And M’ayen smiled as though he’d just won a gold flight. “Fetch me your notes for them, please. Just those.”


 It felt like a trap, but Garatt was confused by it. He bent his head over the essays, skim-reading the first paragraph, trying to work out which notes he would need.


For a few minutes he was confused. It was his handwriting sure enough, but not for a moment could he remember writing it. He’d been so tired that day, so desperate, he’d almost forgotten copying out the essays at all. It felt like something that had happened in a dream. 


M’ayen was watching for the moment realisation hit, for that horrified second of shame and guilt and terror because oh Faranth, he had hadn’t he, and oh Faranth, they had noticed.


“Who wrote the essays, Garatt?” M’ayen’s words were a soft terrifying sing-song.


“I--” He should have protected her at least, she had only been being kind. But it made no difference whether Garatt had intended to or not; he couldn’t remember her name, he could barely remember her face. “I’m sorry, I--” Apologies didn’t work on M’ayen, not ever, just like pleading and begging didn’t. Garatt could feel panicked tears prickling at his eyes again.


“Sorry that you got caught?” M’ayen raised his eyebrows. “Quite the little rule-breaking spree you’ve got going on there. First helping Candidates sneaking on the Sands, now cheating. Do you know what they do to Candidates here for cheating, Garatt?”


Nothing good. Not when it was M’ayen. Garatt shook his head, not daring to speak.


“Now, I should tell the CandidateMaster. She of course would be obliged to write to your father. Mmm, what do you think your father would say, Garatt?”


It felt as though his tongue were too big for his mouth, as though it had somehow had all moisture sucked out of it and glued itself to the roof of his mouth. Garatt couldn’t speak. What would his father say? His father who, if he valued little else, valued listening and working hard? His father who already looked at him as though wondering how this disappointment belonged to him.


“Or--” M’ayen said, and the words were not a surprise, “we could just deal with this one between ourselves.”


And Garatt felt his stomach drop as the ACM walked past him to lock the door.



--

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: Who wants eggs {Fellan, Isirdux}

Kouga
 

Isirdux had been confused for a moment, when the younger lad hadn't responded to his greeting. Then, when the firelizard on his shoulder - a gold! - had nudged him to alert him, and the boy had picked up a slate, the candidate had an inkling of what was up. Some of the elderly uncles and aunties at the hold had gone deaf, and used similar slates and such to communicate when just plain shouting and gesturing wouldn't suffice. Reading the words on the slate, Isirdux nodded eagerly.
"I am," he said out loud, affirmingly.<<

At the nod Fellan offered the other male a grin before clearing his
slate and writing again "There are three eggs left. Did you want to go
see them? Or would you just like any one?" he questioned ignoring the
way Sharp was watching the other boy and hunkering down on his
shoulder though also glad that the candidate didn't seem to mind
having to read. The other one who had come by didn't seem to mind
either and it really was nice to find people who didn't mind his
'issue'.

*Kouga*

Join the Aywas fun - http://aywas.com/register.php?ref=768

"My personality is 30% the last anime I watched." - Tumblr
"Remind me never to get out our bad side. It seems to be ...
unhealthy." - Varric
"Death By Apple Pie a lovely poem by our friend Cole" - Dorian


No, This Meeting Couldn't Be A Flit-Mail (JP R'tal/F'loran)

Nutmeg
 

IC Date Reference: Set approximately 8.28.9.1


If neither he nor Kass (and N’shen, mustn’t forget N’shen) mentioned it then maybe, somehow, wonder of wonders, a Conclave wouldn’t have to happen. Maybe the world would somehow forget that someone just tried to kill the Arolos Weyrleadership, maybe they could deal with it privately in their own way.


And maybe tunnelsnakes would fly.


There was no way it could not be discussed. Not so much to blame Arolos but to protect every other Weyr from danger. But right now what R’tal felt was the possibility of eyes assessing him up again, checking his fitness for the job and maybe -- once more -- removing him. Because he -- because Talith -- wasn’t up to standard.


And once in a lifetime was enough for that.


So stubbornly, pig-headedly, he pretended it didn’t need to happen. Covered the blindness as long as he could (though after Hatching, that secret was likely out of the bag). And set up contingencies to protect them from other Weyrleaders as much as from attacks from outside. Sooner or later, they were going to come asking. He needed to be ready.


It was probably not much of a surprise to anyone that barely a few days after the Hatching that a familiar Weyrleader’s dragon winked into the sky and began to circle to land. Truth be told, it was probably a wonder that F’loran and Antelath hadn’t turned up days ago. Wygelle had probably firmly insisted, using that voice that only Weyrwomen seemed to know how to use, that he was absolutely, under no circumstances, going anywhere near Arolos until the Hatching was done. Well, now it was. So now there were no excuses. Besides, F’loran wanted to be the first at the door before the rest of the Weyrs started turning up. Because it was probably a guarantee that at some point, they would.


Expecting to be directed in the familiar direction of R’tal’s office, F’loran was somewhat surprised when instead, he was sent towards what looked like… Hatching Caverns? Well all right then. As he approached the entrance, the guards positioned there didn’t go amiss. Guards who immediately stiffened to attention when they spotted the Weyrleader knots on the shoulder of the approaching Bronzerider. “Afternoon,” F’loran commented with his usual joviality. “Don’t suppose you could do me a favour and turf R’tal out. Tell him F’loran’s here with that delivery he promised.”


In normal times he’d likely be waved through. As it was one of them vanished in for a few minutes before returning to his position with a polite ‘he’s on his way, Weyrleader’.


And R’tal was on his way, much preferring to meet a visitor away from Talith than where they could stare at him. Usually delighted to see the High Reaches Weyrleader, the look he gave F’loran today was wary, verging on hostile. “F’loran,” he greeted, also polite but a lot cooler than usual. “You should have mentioned you were coming.” And today that felt like more than a ‘so we could make sure there was cake and good alcohol ready’. Today he really would have liked that warning.


The surly countenance was spotted immediately. But if you wanted to faze someone like F’loran, it probably involved something more terrifying. As it was, he didn’t bat an eyelid. “Wygelle wanted me to bring down a congratulatory package for your twin golds. She’d have done it herself but Ormanth’s gravid and set to pop any day. Antelath couldn’t wait to get a day to himself before he sits guard over the Caverns for the next month and a bit.” Lazily the big man jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where the bronze was cheerfully letting several staffers unload several large crates from his harness. “One of ‘em’s got your name on. A lot of babies heads to wet.”


If R’tal’s smile, even at that, looked a bit forced then things were probably fairly bad. “Let’s walk over my office,” he suggested. “We’re just tidying up what’s left in the Hatching Grounds, no point hanging around here too long.” And he could have taken F’loran home except he’d been in there for such brief flyby periods of late that there was every chance it might look like Thread had been falling in there. “Sorry, if you’d told us you were coming I’d have set time aside.”


And that would fool no one. Tidying up the Caverns his foot. But, he could understand the other Weyrleader’s hesitance. He would probably be the same if someone tried to blow up Wygelle, let alone if someone had tried to blow up one of Ormanth’s clutches. “You look like a walk will do  you good. You forgotten what sunlight looks like?” It was the same, cheerful tone as ever. As if all were good and right in the world. “Besides, it was a bit of an impromptu one as Ormanth said she thinks she’s clutching soon. Wanted it done before that. Was half expecting her to wake Antelath up at stupid past the candlemark this morning.”


“You sure she won’t be calling you back?” And R’tal tried to relax, tried to sound cheery as they started to walk -- followed at only a short distance by the tail of guards. He liked F’loran. He did. F’loran was a friend. 


Except right now F’loran was another Weyrleader which meant that F’loran felt like a pair of eyes sent to spy on him.


“It’s been a bit of a sevenday or so.” And F’loran had been joking, but he was indeed squinting a little as they stepped out into the sun. 


“Doubt it. After much bribing for information she sulkily admitted we’ve got a couple more days. Been in a right snit this time around for some reason. Even Wygelle’s baffled by it.” It was banter as lazy as the stride he settled into as they meandered out of the Caverns. “She finally relented when I promised I wouldn’t be longer than a day and then she can have Antelath back. Wygelle doesn’t know what to make of her right now.”


“Golds are golds. Foreth nearly drove Kass demented with this last one,” R’tal admitted. He glanced back over his shoulder as though checking everything back there was in place but kept talking. “Had a sudden fish craving. Had to get Weyrlings to bring them in.”


Noticing the glances, F’loran acted as though he either hadn’t seen them or thought them entirely normal. “Then I’m glad she’s not close enough to give Ormanth ideas. You know, this time she demanded that the Caverns be lined with our warmest furs because “I can feel the cold starting”. It’s like - sweetheart, it’s always cold here, furs aren’t going to do a sharding things.” The man rolled his eyes in a mock dramatic gesture. “Glad it all went well on your end. All things considering. You got two golds out of it and I heard they’re doing all right. That’s one way to stick up the finger to ‘em.”


“We lost a few.” And if it hadn’t been Talith’s Clutch maybe R’tal would have barely felt it - would have put it in the part of his mind that logged the ever growing number of dragonpairs lost to Fall and stopped thinking there. But it was Talith’s Clutch, and Talith felt it so R’tal felt it. The smile, even the forced one, faded. “Eight.”


“I heard.” F’loran’s cheerful voice took a turn for the sombre now. “It’s a damnable shame. I know it’s not worth much, but for what it is, I’m sharding sorry, R’tal. Don’t know what I’d do if it were me so I’m not going to even act like I know how it feels.”


“We’re waiting for the dragons to forget,” R’tal admitted, dropping his voice to a quieter tone. “You know, this is one of those times I thank Faranth they can do that. Given time and it’ll be a far distant memory of ‘something bad happened a long time ago’ and nothing more.” And once the dragons forgot the humans could try to start forgetting.


“They will.” His voice was kinder now. “It’s one of the small mercies. They’ll forget long before we do. And as their hurt fades, it makes it easier for ours to.” And he didn’t blame the man for counting every day until that happened. “Come on. I’ve already told your lot to send a crate by way of your office. And no, I’m not going to drink you under the table this time.”


“Good. I haven’t got time for the hangover,” R’tal said honestly, picking up the pace again. He tried to shift his mind again away from the thought of the eggs, of tiny broken corpses left behind after-- after--


No. Don’t think it, let that one go. He could feel Talith shift at the memory and clamped hard on the thought, pushing it out of his brain. Change the conversation, think of something else now before you push it back onto Talith. “Weren’t you doing something with Ista last we spoke? How’s that going?” Sharded if he could remember even what it was now; had they been lending Ista a gold or was it the other way around?


Nice change of subject. F’loran couldn’t help but wonder if R’tal hadn’t liked where his head was going at the mention of the lost eggs. But he certainly wasn’t there to make the man sit through unpleasant memories. Well, not of eggs anyway. “Ista is being, well, Ista. Albeit with a dollop less shell-cracked toomfoolery. We made an arrangement to send them a contingent of transfers - all volunteers who wanted a fresh change of pace. They’re currently trying to negotiate more out of us and getting a bit huffy that we’re putting our foot down and saying no. But they’ll settle. It’s not that she-wherry Eilid at the helm any more so I think it’s a bit of jostling to prove they’ve got it under control.” F’loran shrugged as they walked, a gesture that seemed to say “so we’ll have to wait and see”.


“They’re managing Fall all right, I take it? Otherwise we would have heard something.” R’tal could relax more when it was someone else’s Weyr they were talking about, picking over. “Any Clutches there?”


“Seem to be. No worse than anyone else. They’ve had some rough weather of late which obviously makes it a bit of a faff at times but then, could say the same of us with blizzards or you lot with whatever natural disaster decided to rear its head.” The nonchalant tone suggested that F’loran was privately of the opinion that Ista was making waves because they seemed to think they warranted some sort of special treatment. “Clutch-wise, couldn’t tell you. I send that stuff to Wygelle because I get bored counting eggs. But from what I hear they’ve got a small group of mature golds. Possibly waiting on one to go up the first time. But they’re no worse off than the rest of us at the moment.” 


“Well, give us a couple of turns and when our new babies are fighting with the rest of them for who should be in charge maybe we’ll have a gold or two to share,” R’tal said with a touch of his usual dryness. “They don’t stay tiny and cute for long, do they?”


The High Reaches Weyrleader chuckled at that, his burly frame shaking with the noise. "Don't I know it. I think Wygelle is quietly hoping Ormanth is brewing a gold to explain her mood. Me, I could go another five turns before the next. Easily been a couple turns since Silarath was hatched and even that feels too sharding soon!" There was no real animosity to his words but Weyrleader to Weyrleader, gold eggs and hatchlings brought a unique kind of stress that put turns on you overnight.


"I reckon Ista will settle when they realise the Weyrs will happily leave them be when there's so suspicion of skullduggery going on. And no goldflights ending in disaster." He waved a hand as if to stall any interjecture. "It's all in the past now. No amount of hunting hides and heads to blame will bring either of 'em back. These days, I'm just grateful that some small amount of positivity came out of Tyne being able to resettle here. And I've got to be content with that."


“As long as they’re not going to go crazy on us, I’m quite happy to ignore them,” R’tal admitted. “No-one wants another Fort but beyond that.. They can get on with their business.” And if he left other Weyrs to get on with their business unbothered, maybe they would leave him to get on with his. “No point getting too interfering. They’ve got to learn to handle things themselves.”


"True enough," F'loran conceded. "But only to an extent." They were coming up a familiar piece of tunnel and he could see the recognizable door to the man's office coming up. Unfortunately for R'tal, F'loran wasn't going to be beating about the bush today.


F’loran had been in R’tal’s office before, which meant that he knew that while Margana kept it tidy it was usually a fairly busy place. Paperwork came in, paperwork went out, both in tray and out tray were usually stacked with a few pieces of half-completed work here and there.


Right now, the room felt.. Empty. No Margana or Candidate hanging around ready to run for klah. No stack of documents. R’tal had barely been in there for a couple of sevendays and it felt eerily tidy as he closed the door behind them.


R’tal glanced about as though just realising Shalia wasn’t there. “I’ll get someone to run for klah. Or--you prefer juice, don’t you?”


Although his eyes were taking in the stark difference in the office compared to the last time he had been here, F'loran's hand was sheepishly going into a pocket in his flight jacket and brought out a small pouch. "Just a pot of hot water. Healers have me on a tea concoction for some acid problems. Nothing serious, apparently I need to cut back on the amount of cheese I'm putting away." 


“Sorry to hear.” R’tal was automatically polite. “Sure you don’t want juice to wash it down with?” The guards were getting used to their junior members being used as errand boys on occasion. Talith was remaining uncooperative on message-passing.


“Doesn’t taste too bad, just a bit of an embarrassing reminder that I’m closer to fifty turns than I am twenty.” F’loran gave R’tal a wry chuckle as he dumped his large frame into a chair, sprawling over the leather as though it were almost too small to fit. “Wygelle wants me to go on a diet. Told her where that idea belonged and that we North men need a bit of padding come winter!” 


R’tal poked his head out of the office. A quick murmur to one of the guards and he came back in. “Told them to make sure there was no cheese on the tray. No point taunting you,” he said, taking a seat himself. “Somehow I find the older I get the more important snacks in meetings feel.”


Looking about him, F’loran had the crumpled expression of a disappointed Apprentice who had hoped to see their friend in the yard during a break. “No Ty?” He asked, the plaintive hopefulness in his voice baffling from a man who had to stoop to fit through doors. 


“He’s keeping Talith company.” Again, R’tal had that cagey look to him. “They’ve been buddying up together lately.” Highly encouraged by R’tal’s hope that any threat Talith couldn’t see Tyren might smell. If he couldn’t be there to protect his brown then Tyren being there helped.


The disappointment was probably amusing, complete with sad pout. “I get that. If firelizards can pick up on things, whers probably can too. Shells, animals in general are funny like that.” He shifted about a bit to make himself more comfortable, tactfully not commenting on the cagey expression that flitted over R’tal. His “Thread Sense” was tingling all right. And once again, his Weyrwoman had been far more astute than he was that something was “going on”. He inspected R’tal for a minute. “Right. We’ll wait for snacks and then we’ll have a chat.” Unless he was kicked out the door the moment he said the word they were all dreading.


Here it came, that moment where they both admitted that F’loran wasn’t here for a nice social visit and delivering alcohol. R’tal tensed visibly, scowling a little. “A chat?” That wasn’t precisely a friendly response. He wasn’t a wingrider to be called in for a friendly dressing-down if his performance was under par and it was too easy to go on the defensive.


"Well, more a head's up." F'loran's casual tone belied the fact that on the inside, the visible defensiveness concerned him. What the shards was going on?! As the door opened and a small tray was hastily brought in, the Weyrleader paused, waiting for the door to close again before he spoke. "Whether you announce it or not, you've got the Weyrs landing imminently on your doorstep. And yes, I'm talking Conclave. Because we've all been quietly watching, quietly waiting for Arolos to announce it. And since it hasn't been… well, lets just say that Arolos is under more scrutiny than ever.";


“It's an internal matter,” R'tal said flatly.”Begging your pardon, F'loran because I like you well enough but I don't see that it's anyone else’s business outside of this Weyr and that includes you.” He did. He’d been doing this far too long to claim not to understand how things worked. Still if it came to it he would try anyway.


Leaning to pour hot water into an empty cup, F’loran fished about in the pouch and dropped a small herbal bag into it. “Now I know you’re just being a stubborn arse. You know as well as I do that that won’t fly. It wasn’t as if your Hatching Caverns collapsed from an earthquake. They blew up. And people are all a-twitter as to whether it was accidental or intentional sabotage.” He poked the bag forlornly with a spoon. “Now, we could probably all smile and cheerfully say it was internal when that incident at the Gather happened - and yes, the rumours have hit Reaches, because lets face it, your Weyrwoman has probably pissed off a lot of people over the turns. But you of all people have been playing this game long enough to know that the very second that a gold yielding clutch was threatened, everyone sat up and looked worried.”


The High Reaches Weyrleader fixed R’tal with a firm look. “So either deny all you like and be caught on the back foot when they arrive, or get your head in the game and be ready for whatever drama they’re bringing to the table.”


“I don’t suppose it's occured to anyone that we might be just a little bit too busy investigating to host a Conclave.” R'tal was being unfair and he knew it as he said it. Of course it had occurred to them. That was why they had waited until after hatching. 


“Unfortunately you lot stayed too quiet for too long. They’re getting impatient now. As far as they’re concerned, they gave you the Hatching and a few days to let things settle down a little and get the new Weyrlings settled. They’ve still not heard a peep so toes are tapping.” F’loran flipped out the bag of herbs onto a small plate and took the steaming cup. “As it is, they don’t think you’re going rogue. But you know what they’re like. They’re twitchy and nervous.”


“Shells, no, we’re not going sharding rogue!” That denial was quick and horrified. R'tal knew too well where that kind of talk went. “We got attacked for Faranth’s sake, we're just trying to get our feet under us again.” Despite all his talk about snacks in meetings being important he'd been ignoring the tray. Something about this conversation didn't inspire an appetite.


“And if “we got attacked” is the official line, that’s exactly why the Weyrs are going to be turning up. Because that’s exactly what they want to know. Is this an Arolos specific issue or is it something all the Weyrs need to up their own vigilance on. You know better than most that after Fort, after Ista, after Fort again and that sharding goldflight, they’re not going to sit on their hands and wait. We did that too many times before when we said that what happened at other Weyrs was not our problem. Until it became everyone’s problem.” F’loran’s expression was stern, not at R’tal but at the whole situation as he sipped calmly at the tea. He wasn’t really feeling it just as R’tal wasn’t feeling snacks - unfortunately a Healer would probably smack him if he missed a dose.


“Ah, fecking shells.” The polite semi-formality R'tal had been trying to keep up slipped for a moment and his shoulders slumped. He sighed. “How many of them at your door?” Because there was no point pretending he didn't know how it worked. Once the concern level rose suddenly everyone was casually dropping in on each other for klah and a chat.


“New Fort is mostly perplexed and confused. They’ve not seen a Conclave yet but they’re not idiots. They’ve picked up that something is in the wind. Benden is twitchier but they tend to be a bit more sensible about wanting all the information first before they get too committed. Not heard much from Telgar or Igen and Ista is, well, looking supremely smug that it’s not them being talked about for a change.” F’loran could feel for the man. Conclaves were a bucket of stress in and of themselves. That magnified a thousand fold when it was your Weyr in the cross-hairs “Wygelle has discreetly been advising New Fort as to how it rolls. She’s determined to show up even if it means leaving Ormanth with a minder and making sure we get this done and dusted as fast as possible. Otherwise she’ll have to send Nerila and she isn’t really quite up to a Conclave solo.”


For a moment R’tal was quiet, and his scowl said that he actually might consider telling F’loran to just feck right off out of his Weyr and not come back. Then he sighed. “Kass is pregnant,” he admitted, conceding that much. “Twins, and she’s old for it, and has had a few bad ones as it is. And then this.. She’s out of the Infirmary but she needs rest.”


Something about the way R’tal spoke told F’loran that now was not the time to congratulate R’tal on what F’loran could only assume was his impending progeny but filed the note away for Wygelle. She could manage the women stuff. “And won’t be fit to deal with the chaotic and very stressful event that is a Conclave.” He finished, reading between the lines. “So who gets to be thrown into the fire? Delysia?”


“At the moment she’s insisting it’ll be her and Healer advice be sharded,” R’tal said, spreading his hands in a gesture that indicated the difficulty of arguing with a determined Weyrwoman. “If she concedes I suspect it’ll be Andronda.” He stood up. Something about having this conversation seated felt wrong. He wanted to pace; wanted to move, and shift around and possibly kick walls if the conversation went that way. “I wanted-- shells, I just wish you’d wait until we actually had something resembling useful information to give you!” Frustration there; people were going to arrive wanting answers and it felt as though he had very little to give.


“To be honest? I think right now their main agenda is establishing what is believed to be the cause of recent events - as in, accidental or sabotage and what steps you are in the process of devising to make enquiries if believed that something sinister is afoot. I’d like to think that at least some of them have enough of a brain to realise that you’re likely still going to have very little idea as to specifics. And discuss what measures they all need to be considering as well as sharing information that they may have picked up about possible concerns from any outside parties. Unfortunately, with the Redstars known to lurk on your doorstep, you can guess where half of them have probably already been going with it.” F’loran paused, watching the man pace around the room. He’d probably be doing the same.


“If Kassia is being that… gold about it,” he said diplomatically, “Then I strongly suggest a discreet chat with your Weyrmate. Because the general feeling I’m getting is that backs are up, people are suspicious, they’re scared and that means they're going to be argumentative and hostile off the bat. So I would anticipate you to need the brandy I have actually brought with me by the time it’s over. And if she can be convinced, I don’t think that it will do Kassia any good to sit through that.”


Right now it felt as though R’tal could use that brandy before the Conclave even started. “Officially, as far as the Weyr knows? Could still have been an accident, we’re just being very careful. Off the record?” He shook his head. “Right now I haven’t got a sharding clue who it was, but it’s someone. And after the Gather attempt-- honestly I’d rather not have anyone new in the Weyr just now and that includes a whole bunch of Weyrleaders!”


F’loran watched R’tal thoughtfully. Despite the man’s ranting - which to be fair, he could empathise with a lot of it, it still didn’t shake the feeling that something was afoot. For several moments, he sat and drank his tea. “Well,” he began after clearly some thought. “Wygelle wants to attend but is reluctant to leave Ormanth. You have a pregnant Weyrwoman and an understandable concern about a mass arrival of the world’s Weyrleaders turning up during what could be a safety crisis.” You could hear the man’s brain ticking from across the room. “So what if I suggest we bring it to neutral territory and bring them to High Reaches? Not to mention, New Fort will probably be more comfortable attending too as they’re familiar with us now and know where they’re going. And if there is a genuine Weyr-Wide threat to be concerned about, taking it out of Arolos might actually keep things a little more… low key.”


It should have been a kind helpful suggestion. As it was, R’tal stopped in his tracks, face freezing for a moment as he too-obviously searched for the lie, the excuse that would get them out of that situation without explaining why he needed it. Kassia’s pregnancy had been a useful excuse but for this? He searched for an easy get out clause and failed to find one. 


The hesitance was what F’loran didn’t realise he had been waiting for until it happened. When it did, he leaned forward in his chair, the firm expression changing to one of more concern. “Whatever you say now stays in this room between you and me. Not even Wygelle hears it. But there’s something you haven’t been saying since the moment you came out of those Caverns.”


“Talith.” The word was almost a croak, and R’tal swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth. “Talith, he-- the Healers say it’s temporary.” Probably temporary, likely temporary, and that other possibility that it might not be was keeping him awake at night already. “But--the explosion-- he can’t fly, not right now.” In the end, it was almost a relief to say it.


Ah, shells. The moment the Arolos Weyrleader mentioned his dragon’s name, something in the pit of F’loran’s stomach froze in place. For such a big man, F’loran could move surprisingly gracefully at times as he eased up out of the chair in a fluid motion to drop a manly, companionable hand on R’tal’s shoulder. “You’re afraid of them finding out, aren’t you? Because if your dragon can’t fly, how can you lead a Weyr?”


“Truenoth too.” Confess one, confess both, easier to get it over with all at once now he’d started. R’tal sagged under F’loran’s hand, releasing the lie finally. “They’d been helping Foreth with the eggs -- it just came from nowhere.” If he’d looked unhappy when discussing the lost eggs that was nothing to his stricken expression now. “I’ve got one of our old Weyrleaders leading Fall, and T’ryn -- you remember T’ryn? - taking WeyrSecond duties. We’re handling things. But I don’t know if they’re going to see that.”


And things just went from bad to worse, didn’t they. Shells, no wonder the man was on the defensive, he probably thought that the Conclave were going to steal his Weyr out from under him “No reason why the official line can’t be that your dragons sustained temporary injuries during the incident that has impacted their ability to fly, but are on the road to recovery and that in the meantime, you have made suitable arrangements for other duties to be covered by suitable Riders of appropriate knowledge. Drop names if you have to. Shells, if you don’t want them coming here, have someone bring the lot of you up in a couple evenings’ time and I’ll hole you up in a guest weyr so you don’t have to arrive under scrutiny of “but where are their dragons?”” F’loran hadn’t the slightest idea of whether any of this was going to appeal to the man, but he would at least try.


“I..can’t.” It was a kindly suggestion, made with the best of intentions and still R’tal shook his head. Not out of stubbornness, out of the creeping fear that left him to leave his wher to guard his hurt dragon, that meant he’d moved almost all work to the Hatching Grounds where Talith was only ever a few seconds out of reach. He looked up at the High Reaches Weyrleader, expression bleak. “Shells, F’loran, this happened when I was only up at my office. If there was something-- and I was half a world away..”


Realistically, F’loran recognised that a part of him had expected such a response. “Then I suggest that you make the entrance to the Caverns look suitably under construction but unaccessible. Because there’s talks of wanting to inspect the extent of the damage. Tell them Talith received temporary injuries but he is resting and strictly not to be disturbed. They don’t need to be told where he is.” And F’loran was not above a little tactful elimination of information at times when it was needed. “End of the day, the primary concern is about potential cause of the incident. Keep the focus on that and away from the impact. If needs be, redirect it to the fact that the Hatching was still a success. Because to be honest, I don’t give a wherry’s feathery arse if a Weyrleader’s dragon is out of commission for a while. If something like this happens, I’m more concerned about whether what happened in one Weyr is at risk of happening in my own.”


“Feck.” He hadn’t even considered them wanting to inspect the Caverns. That much had escaped his attempts to plan around. R’tal, ran a hand back through his hair, trying to think, rearrange, plan, pull himself back together enough to feel like a Weyrleader and not like a barely disguised wreck. Breathe in, breathe out, pull it together. He forced a weak, entirely unconvincing smile. “..Did you mention asking them to send some of that brandy up?”


He watched as R’tal visibly tried to pull himself back into one piece. The hand didn’t move until the weak smile and query came his way and F’loran nodded towards the door. “Aye, surprised you didn’t trip over the crate on the way in. You’ve got enough to pickle the Weyr.”


“Had my mind on other things.” Like how many lies it might take to make this go away. R’tal took another breath, released it. “Grab it? I’ll remember where Margana hides the glasses now. I need a drink.” Needed it to blunt the edge off all the fears this conversation raised, everything he’d been burying unspoken in a corner of his mind and trying not to think about.


Sticking his head out the door, Floran hefted the crate as though it contained nothing but pillows. It clinked and rattled as he did, giving away the contents even as he set it down behind the desk. Just discreetly enough out of sight so someone sticking their head in wouldn’t see a suspiciously large crate of alcohol hanging around. “Don’t worry, I’ve already got more put to one side to bring with me that I can conveniently forget to bring home again.” 


Normally that might have prompted a laugh, maybe a joke about whether F’loran’s true intention really was to drink him under the table. There was no such laughter today. R’tal might have managed to force a smile but his expression shifted back towards grim as he located the glasses and set them on the desk, reaching as he did so to check Talith - making sure the brown was still there, still safe, still protected. Shells, but he hadn’t felt this antsy about being a distance from him since they’d been Weyrlings themselves.


It took little effort to crack the crate open, a bottle appearing as if out of nowhere. With far too much expertise, F’loran popped out the cork and the dark liquid appeared in glasses. “By my reckoning you’ve got two, maybe three days. But I’d err on the side of caution and prepare for two. Because some people are more than champing at the bit.”


“No chance you can delay them further?” It seemed so unlikely as to not be worth asking and R’tal asked anyway, pleading for time, pleading for breathing space. The first glass was picked up and thrown back with almost indecent quickness, the burn of alcohol reassuring. Right now he could use a bit of bolstering and good High Reaches brandy did the job.


“You kidding, I’m amazed I’ve gotten them to sit tight this far.” There was a snort of annoyance at that, as though the huffing and puffing of dignitaries had annoyed him greatly. F’loran nursed his brandy. He knew all too well his own tolerance but Wygelle would also have his head if he came back smelling of too much booze. “Ista idly asked why it would be so terrible to have it before the Hatching. Because Ista.” The man rolled his eyes with obvious extravagance. “End of the day, R’tal - it’ll be better to rip it off quick and kick them out again. The longer you try and fob them off now, the longer the rumours have to pick up speed. At least this way, you can stand and look pretty whilst they all die of heat sickness. Except maybe Ista. You sure you won’t come to Reaches?”


“Honestly?” With a refilled glass in his hand to hide behind R’tal took a chance and told the truth. How much worse could things get, really? “Right now being as far away as this office is hard.” He shrugged helplessly, knowing how that sounded. Beyond weyrlinghood, mostly, riders could rely enough on the mental bond to cope. “Until we work out who’s behind this - every minute I’m not there watching him feels like time where someone could try something else. If I was there and something happened..” It would be a long time before distance would dull the memory of the world going from perfectly fine to screaming unseen panic in the blink of an eye. 


"Fair enough. Offer's there if you feel the Weyr has come down with a strange and contagious illness by morning." And he didn't push it. As it was, this Conclave was going to be hard enough on all of them. "If there is anything you want High Reaches and only High Reaches to be aware of before it all kicks off, you know how to find us anyhow."


Drink your brandy - second glass more slowly than the first - gather your mind, pull in your courage because it felt like these words needed to be forced out and yet they needed saying. “Listen. Your focus might not be on Talith and Truenoth but if they work out something’s up-- they’re not all going to follow that lead.”


“End of the day, you’ve been to enough of these that you know it takes a certain amount of persuasive speaking to keep them looking at the shiny pebble and not pay attention to the man behind robbing them blind. If you come across as confident in your dragon’s recovery and ability to return to duty then who are we to doubt it? So practice your more convincing smile. And maybe bring out a uniform that hasn’t been slept in for a sevenday straight. As much as I hate to use it as example - but the goldflight Conclave. Look at the differences the appearance of Tyne made compared to Breda. Cool, calm and confident. And I know full well that Tyne was so nervous she spent half a candlemark emptying her guts down the privy afterward. This is going to be one of those times where looking as though you’ve got it together and not as though you’re clutching desperately at strings is going to make all the difference. Because they will be looking at you and asking themselves if it looks like you’re quietly falling apart. And right now, yes it does.” F’loran spoke with the candid ease of someone who knew someone else well enough by now that they knew it wouldn’t be perceived as an insult. 


“You’re telling me it’s not going to go down well if I spend the whole thing very slightly pissed on your brandy?” It was meant to be a joke but came out too tiredly to not fall flat. Right now R’tal felt exhausted, worried and downright paranoid. Cool, calm and confident was an area he might not even be able to find on a map. “Other than with your weyrmate of course.”


“Depends on whether “slightly pissed” means you’ll be less tense and able to hide the smell of brandy on your breath.” Was F’loran’s response in all seriousness. Wygelle would probably make him sleep out in the snow if she found out he was possibly encouraging a Weyrleader to turn up to a Conclave mildly drunk.


“...Possibly,” R’tal admitted after a moment’s long consideration. “Though I suspect Kass would kill me if she knew I was even thinking of it.” He grimaced, and made himself sip from his second glass rather than just downing the remnants and refilling. “I know, I know you can’t give me more time. But Faranth, what I’d give for another couple of sevendays to just pull it together.” It felt as though given time to just sleep without bolting from one crisis to the next, to breathe and pull his head together he could actually mean that confidence rather than blundering bli-- no, don’t think that word -- clumsily  through a facade of it.


“I suspect the intent was to turn up unannounced to prevent any hasty pulling together. But I don’t agree with that. Because that stinks of treating another Weyr of guilty of something without finding out the facts. But just remember to look surprised.” F’loran’s nose crinkled with distaste as he took a sip of the brandy that burned all the way down his gullet. “Shells, it’s not like it’s another secret Fort takeover and we’ve all been quietly watching the shit going down for turns.”

“Faranth.” And that plan in itself didn’t bode well as to people’s attitudes. R’tal looked a little sick. “Who’ve we pissed off enough that they want to pull that on us?” But it took only a second’s thought to have the answer. “The new lot at Fort, I suppose. And Ista. And anyone else who doesn’t like how many golds we’re putting out.”


“Not even that. People hear gold eggs almost get taken out and they stop thinking sensibly and start thinking “what if that was in my Weyr, or my dragon?” Emotions are kicking in because they’re all sat there asking themselves the “what if” questions.” He resisted the urge to knock back the brandy and pour himself another. “Besides, the lot at New Fort aren’t all that bad. Still finding their feet and struggling a bit with the fact their dragons are working harder because of the size and their golds only manage small clutches from what I hear. But all in all, seem to be getting stuck in.” He shrugged, he’d met with the Weyrleaders and others a handful of times now and thankfully, there seemed to be no suggestion of “issues”. “We’ve got a handshake agreement that we cover our border onto their territory with some additional backup when the weather really kicks off.” The Weyrleader shook his head thoughtfully. “I honestly think that right now it’s a whole lot more about people thinking of the worst possible thing than it is about grudges.”


“Yeah? Because I’m sitting here staring out and all I can think is ‘who’ve we made hate us enough to do this?’.” Alcohol brought frankness, allowed the paranoia that’d been hiding underground to come to the surface. “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s been another Weyr.” Wouldn’t be the first time it had been F’loran’s own Weyr come to that, even if time and Wygelle as Weyrwoman had smoothed over those scars. “I thought we’d been fairly inoffensive lately but-- clearly not to somebody.”


“And we’ve all got enemies from outside of the Weyr. And how many times has Weyr involvement involved the direct attempt to kill golds? Goldflight not withstanding. Weyr involvement in the past normally involves getting a hold of something because we’re covetous feckers who get jealous of another Weyr’s gold fortune. But we usually want it for ourselves in some way, not to destroy it entirely. Shells, if you told me that someone had tried to threaten one of the gold eggs as a distraction to try and take the other? Sure, I’d be looking suspiciously at people.” F’loran didn’t have the slightest clue if any of this made any sense whatsoever.


“I thought maybe..something like the Fort involvement.” It helped a little to say it out loud, speak the old nightmares that had been returning the last sevenday. R’tal had never truly recovered from that invasion, had had K’ren carefully not suggesting mindhealers for decades, and this past sevenday had brought terrors he didn’t even know he still had back to the surface. “Take out Kass, injure Talith and Truenoth, leave a nice gap in Weyrleadership and then move their own people in.” Sip again at the brandy, know it was loosening his tongue and stop caring so much if it did. Sometimes you needed to name the anxieties before you could let them go. “You don’t need to take the gold eggs if you can take the whole Weyr with them still inside.”


F’loran shifted on his seat, suddenly sitting more straight in his seat. “Right,” he said, tossing back the rest of his brandy and setting the glass on the desk. “What I’m about to say does not leave this room as it’s nothing more than speculation. No one’s thoughts but mine about this whole thing.” He didn’t need to wait for R’tal to say anything. They’d known each other long enough that they knew how these things were done.


“You want to take out a Weyrleadership you do it quick and you make sure it sticks. Poison the klah. Slit throats in bed. What you don’t do is use a tool as unreliable as an explosion. If you want to take over a Weyr, you want people to know it’s taken over because the efficiency of a fast kill is a message in itself.” F’loran paused, sitting back as he stared R’tal dead in the eye. “If you think this was intentional. Then I think it went off early. Because a Hatching Cavern doesn’t just fill up with Weyrleaders. It fills up with Lord Holders, Master Crafters and a whole mess of other people from all around the protectorate. I think this was meant to be a message where the aim was to take out a lot of people in one fell swoop and to incite mass panic across the entire board. Not just in a Weyr, but in Holds and Halls. I think your explosion was meant to be a lot bigger, do a lot more damage and be a bigger statement to make everyone scared. Inside the Weyr and outside.”


R’tal thought about that, thought about the damage that truly could have been done if it had gone off a little later, and shuddered as he pictured it, stomach turning a little. There were no words, nothing equal to responding to that potential amount of damage. That wouldn’t just have wiped out the Weyr; that could have come near to wiping out most of the rankers of the South.


Silently, still digesting that, he drained his glass and reached to refill them both.


“Now, I know when something harms us we automatically think it’s Weyr targeted. But I have spent far too many candlemarks considering the logistics. And using a tool as clumsy as a planned explosion is too ham-fisted if the intent is for a specific target. There’s no guarantee they will get caught in the blast, let alone killed. But if mass damage, mass death and it doesn’t matter who or what gets caught up in? Then an explosion fits that target. It’s big, it’s scary and if the blast doesn’t get you, getting trampled to death in a frenzied crowd of panic will. It’s a sure fire way to bring harm when there are a lot of people in the vicinity. But for a specific target that might not even be in there or could get out? No, I can’t see it. It doesn’t send enough of a message if “and only one or two people got hurt” - not for something as dramatic as that.” He sat back in his chair, taking the refilled glass as he did. 


“It wasn’t an accident.” R’tal’s voice was quiet, his expression shaken as he spoke. “We found the explosion site. We’d had them - I’d suggested digging a route for the water from the Lake to make a pond closer to the Hatching Grounds.” And maybe he’d regret that suggestion to his dying day but at the time it had seemed harmless. “Because of the fish. Because Foreth wanted to fish so much.” He shook his head. “I’d had them check everyone into and out of the Weyr after the Gather attack; thought if we knew who was here we’d be safe. But the workmen; when they said they needed access to make sure it wouldn’t flood the Sands no-one thought twice.”


“If you’re talking construction then you’re talking Stone Cutters. Which means you’re talking Crafters. So the big question is, who’s got their thumb in the Crafters and might have a bone to pick with a Weyr? And what better time than a Weyr due to have a Hatching when all different rankers are going to be sitting in the Stands?” F’loran’s face was dead serious as he watched the other man. 


“Feck..” It hadn’t occurred to him before, hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now he could picture it all too clearly. R’tal shivered as though a cold draught had blown through the room a moment. “Someone with a grudge that big isn’t going to let it drop either.”


“And in all honesty? I think they know it got fecked up. And now they’re going to lie low and let all of this blow over.” He shrugged, it was a useless gesture. “But like I say, this is just wild speculation on my part. No basis in fact, but what I did was step back and consider what this might have done if it wasn’t just about the Weyrleaders and their dragons.”


And stepping back right now was exactly what R’tal was struggling to do. His mind was fixed on Talith, on eight hatchlings that never got to hatch, on danger that felt like it might approach from any direction. “I hoped that might be what happened after the Gather attack,” he admitted. “That was so clearly not what they wanted that I thought maybe--” Maybe they’d overreached and would go away, maybe the Weyr would step up security measures and find it was for nothing. And then this, despite the stepped up security. He bent his head, staring into his full glass as though it might be about to produce the secrets of the universe. 


“I’m struggling,” he confessed quietly after a minute. “I realise that’s not news to you right now, but-- My judgement’s off. I’m not trusting it. I’m jumping at shadows and either I’m going to grab someone innocent because something circumstantial points to them and I can’t let it go, or I’m going to miss something because I think it’s a shadow and it ends in this.”


“You aren’t going to like my next suggestion. Because I’ve been wondering if the two are even related, R’tal. To go from targeting the Weyrwoman specifically to a mass incident? It’s a huge change of direction. Anyone can buy a hired blade if they’ve got the marks for it. Setting up explosives? That needs a whole different type of expertise and a whole different strategy.” F’loran was solemn and it looked strange on his usually cheerful expression. “The Gather incident? I think it was a blade for hire and yes, Kassia was the intended target. This? This reeks of something else. Something with a much bigger agenda.”


He sighed, enjoying the burn as the brandy rolled down his throat. He was definitely going to have had far more than intended by the time he went home. “Do you have anyone in the Weyr who might be in the know? Any one you’ve used in the past to do some digging around but knows where to look? Because you need to set the canines on the right scent and you don’t know what you’re looking for. And you also need to get your head together for Talith. You’re no good for digging up dirt if you’re thinking about where he is. If you’ve got people who know what you need, delegate it to them.”


“That part I’ve done already,” R’tal admitted. “Day one, right after I realised that if someone did take out N’shen and I there was no-one at the helm and did some succession planning. There’s people looking at it, just I don’t trust one of them to be me right now.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, face lined with exhaustion. “Didn’t take long to remember why I don’t want this job.”


F’loran looked about him as if for a second, he was worried he might be overheard. “I’m not talking about official channels, R’tal. I’m talking about the very unofficial channels that we don’t tell anyone about but who might have connections in the right places to have picked up something that people are talking about.”


“We absolutely wouldn’t have any of those.” R’tal did manage to raise a slight smile at that. “But if we did - theoretically - have one or two of them, then yes, they would be looking at it.” He grimaced again. “Problem being that if I’m honest, at least one I don’t trust as far as I can throw him and might actually have known before things were kicking off. And I can’t tell if that’s my paranoia talking again either.”


“Either way, if the others start talking about this being an attempt on Weyrleaders, that’s the theory I’m going to give them. Because I don’t think you were the intended target - not on your own. Will it shake the klah out of them? Probably. But I think if that they stop looking at it as “yes but maybe it was just…” and more a “this could have been something that hit any of us if we were about to have a Hatching” then I’m hoping that will prompt less suspicion and more ears to the ground to figure out what the sharding Between actually happened.” There was a faint twinkle in F’loran’s eye at R’tal’s smile, however small. Because they didn’t talk about the people that they absolutely knew were possibly the sort of people that could be the very wrong sort of people.


“Shells. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, even if I do want to strangle a few of them once Conclaves are over and done.” R’tal sat a little straighter again at that. “Maybe we should all think of cutting down our Hatching guest lists a bit while we work through this one.”


“I don’t think anyone would be surprised if Hatchings were “by explicit invitation only” for a while. Although I’m sure of the more contrary Holders will love not having to give up their children.” The chuckle was wry and cut off abruptly. “And R’tal… if a lead lands in your lap that seems too good to be true. Then I think it’ll be just that. And I think it will be purely designed to make you stop looking and drop your guard. Because if they’re willing to do it once and fail? Then whoever they are, I think they’re going to be willing to try again.”


“You think I don’t know that one? Shells, that’s why my head’s in such a state,” R’tal admitted. “My brain gets halfway down thinking through something and then the doubt creeps in with ‘but anyone who knows me well enough know that’s precisely what I would think’. And then I second-guess, and suddenly the world is full of potential enemies.”


“And everyone outside the Weyr thinks we’re a bunch of emotionally driven hotheads fuelled by our dragons. I’d be willing to bet my knots that whoever this is? They’re counting on rage and anger and something will land in your lap that you can exact your pound of flesh and think it’s all over.” The twinkle was gone again, taken over by the grim set of his jaw. “Call me half-cracked, missing a glow or whatever. But I don’t think this is a world full of enemies. I think this is a very specific group with a very specific purpose. And there aren’t many of ‘em that have sway with Crafters to do something as bold as plant explosives in a Weyr.”


Again R’tal was quiet for a moment or two, sipping his brandy, thinking. “After the Gather, Kass wanted more guards,” he admitted. “Guards on all of us, guards on anyone related to her -- Faranth knows that seems to be a good quarter of the Weyr sometimes. Told her no because I was worried about packing the Weyr with heavily armed people the Guardcaptain doesn’t know well enough to vouch for.” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “Faranth knows, I’ve had cause to second-guess that one but-- I still think that’s a path they would have taken given the chance.”


“There’s ways and means to infiltrate a Weyr, Faranth knows we saw what happened at Fort. But a group of Crafters called in to get some work done and then quietly leave again never to be seen? Perfect way to get in and out again before the damage is done.” F’loran wasn’t sure whether he should be indulging in this theory of his. Because it was entirely that. A theory. And nothing else. “Regarding that Gather job? I don’t think you’ll ever find out who was the blade for hire. They’ve taken their marks and they’re gone. And I think it’s even less likely you’ll find out who made the contract.”


“But they couldn’t plan on us suddenly deciding we needed a pond. And whoever did this didn’t wait until Foreth was gravid before they started planning it,” R’tal pointed out. “So either they’ve been waiting for an opportunity at some Weyr, any Weyr, or they already had something resembling a plan and this one was just..better.”


Whatever F’loran was about to say next, he clearly didn’t want to. “I… think. And again, just me thinking. That whoever they are? They’re patient. And have links to the one group that not only interconnected but is spread out across continents. People think nothing of a Journeyman from the Northern Hall travelling to the Southern one. I think someone is quietly watching and waiting with a variety of options on hand. For when they need them. But they will wait for the right moment to open up for as long as it takes.”


R’tal closed his eyes a moment, let his head drop into the hand that wasn’t securely holding a glass. “I hate this,” he said. “I mean, I know that much is obvious. But shells. I hate this so much.”


“And as much as I hate to say it, if any of my crackpot theory has any basis in possibility, then that’s exactly why a Conclave needs to happen.” F’loran was staring at his brandy as though he hoped it contained the secrets of the universe. 


“Why is the world so full of sharding bastards?” R’tal asked theoretically, head still leaning against his hand. “I thought fine, I’m stuck with the job one more round, Kass and I might kill each other but we all know what we’re doing now so how bad can it be?” He gestured with his glass. “This. This is how bad it can be.”


“Eh… could be worse. Could have happened the way it was meant to.” There was no humour in F’loran’s face as the brandy vanished. “Right. I should probably think about giving you time to practice your best surprised face. Like I say, you’re looking at two to three days. If it’s any consolation, I doubt New Fort will be coming in looking to point fingers - more try to figure out what the shells they’re meant to do. You know Reaches won’t be either.”


“Guh.” R’tal grimaced but nodded at that. “If you can convince Wygelle to let you, sit next to me. I could use someone to give me a kick if I’m looking like I need one.”


“Just don’t take it to heart if she looks like she wants to kill you for no reason. She’s got a bite on her at the moment. I only want her to come along because she’ll get bored and tell all of ‘em to pack it in and it’s time to go home.” This time the chuckle was something resembling genuine.


R’tal stood as though to see him out and then hesitated. “Listen. If we can’t pull this off, looking like we’re in control of this, if it comes to a choice of what’s best to do for the Weyr -- I’d rather it be M’gal and T’ryn in charge here than going down fighting for the sake of looking fair and ending up with someone imposed from outside.” Because sometimes resisting something because  it wasn’t what you wanted ended up with you getting something so much worse.


“Don’t worry, I could always convince them that they’d rather Wygelle came back. I’m sure that would make M’gal or T’ryn seem a much better option.” F’loran had slid to his feet, filling the space as he loomed upwards. 


“Hah. I’d have to stop Kassia stabbing you in the break if you tried that.” R’tal wasn’t looking happy but at least was markedly less hostile as he offered his hand. “And--thanks.”


The proffered hand was taken in a firm and entirely manly shake, complete with non-committal grunt. “Eh, some of us have to stick together. Especially when there’s headless wherries running around. And when you next see me, it will have been, shells easily a few months since last we got together. Not been in Arolos forever and already hating the heat.”


R’tal snorted. “Good job Ty wasn’t here. He’d have given you away in a minute.” He reached to open the door, letting the other man out first. “Guess I have to find a large room that’s coincidentally clean and also in a really good spot to guard.”


“But it was for the Conclave you were going to announce. You just wanted to be ready. Really.” With a nod and an internal sigh of relief that things seemed to be ending on a far better note than they had been when he had arrived. F’loran headed out of the office. It wouldn’t take long to make the jump back to High Reaches. Hopefully he wasn’t about to get his ear chewed off for the obvious scent of brandy on his breath. But shells, today and been a brandy day and then some. And when he got home again, it would be time for a little bit more.


= End =



--
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Recluso#6042 on Discord

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!


Re: Who wants eggs {Fellan, Isirdux}

Jerzy Tobin
 

He looked up when Sharp knocked him on the side of the head with her wing offering an image of the other male blinking at him catching just the last couple of words. The image Sharp offered of her eggs up in Rena's weyr assured him he was probably right in what he had caught. He settled down the hide he had been going over and picked up his slate and charcoal sitting to his side writing out a quick 'You are here about the eggs?' and holding it up for the other to read as he himself focused on the other's mouth.
Isirdux had been confused for a moment, when the younger lad hadn't
responded to his greeting. Then, when the firelizard on his shoulder
- a gold! - had nudged him to alert him, and the boy had picked up a
slate, the candidate had an inkling of what was up. Some of the
elderly uncles and aunties at the hold had gone deaf, and used similar
slates and such to communicate when just plain shouting and gesturing
wouldn't suffice. Reading the words on the slate, Isirdux nodded
eagerly.

"I am," he said out loud, affirmingly.

--
"Life is NOT a journey to the grave with the goal of arriving safely
in a prettily preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways in a
shower of gravel and party shards, thoroughly used, utterly exhausted,
and loudly proclaiming: "F*** ME, that Rocked!!" -unknown

Whizzy: Jerzy
Aim: Yue146


Re: Luicion

Kouga
 

Luicion stared at the sign a minute, curious about what it was for before realizing that maybe the other couldn't talk. "Yeah! My guy here," he gestured at Morgisu, "Could use a friend. He's only been with me alone since Fort an' Lady Tyne said he might be lonely an' could benefit from a friend." As he spoke, Luicion's hands moved to gesture. One hand was used to resemble his firelizard and it wilted to show he was sad. Then his other hand was used to simulate another firelizard; Luicion moved that hand closer to the other and the wilted hand perked up.<<
Habit had Fellan trying to watch the hands but he quickly realized
that it was like most and while apparently the other had realized he
couldn't hear and was trying to help he didn't know how to talk like
Papa E'lis had taught him. He did appreciate the effort all the same
even if it wasn't something he was really used to. After all lots of
people talked with their hands, but most even one they knew his issues
didn't try and use them to help him. And it did help because the other
male definitely had some words that did not look like he was used to
them looking when trying to lip read. After a brief pause he nodded
before cleaning his slate and writing again "They are up in Rena's
weyr, it was where Sharp insisted on laying them, did you want to go
up and see them all or did you just want any of them?"

*Kouga*

Join the Aywas fun - http://aywas.com/register.php?ref=768

"My personality is 30% the last anime I watched." - Tumblr
"Remind me never to get out our bad side. It seems to be ...
unhealthy." - Varric
"Death By Apple Pie a lovely poem by our friend Cole" - Dorian


Re: Luicion

Ren
 

OOC: Oh that's actually pretty neat

Luicion stared at the sign a minute, curious about what it was for before realizing that maybe the other couldn't talk. "Yeah! My guy here," he gestured at Morgisu, "Could use a friend. He's only been with me alone since Fort an' Lady Tyne said he might be lonely an' could benefit from a friend." As he spoke, Luicion's hands moved to gesture. One hand was used to resemble his firelizard and it wilted to show he was sad. Then his other hand was used to simulate another firelizard; Luicion moved that hand closer to the other and the wilted hand perked up.
--
Out of the fire comes new life. Telgar Rises!

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


Re: I Wish It Had Been Me (F'lo, T'son)

Ren
 

"Yes, please. Thank you." F'lo took the pitcher and oured himself a glass. "I saw that Sigyth went up for her first flight... How did it go?"
--
Out of the fire comes new life. Telgar Rises!

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


Re: On my foot again (attn Zy'fen/Cuylar)

Aaron
 

"I need to get up out of this cot and back on my...foot. I need to take care of Nerenth. Could you find some crutches and help me stand up? Please, I need to get moving." Zy'fen was glad it was a Male healer who had stopped, it was less embarrassing, somehow.

Cuylar smiled broadly. That was the attitude he had been hoping to see from Zy'fen for... well, for at least a couple of months.

"Of course, sir," he said. The Healers had already set aside crutches for this very purpose, keeping them ready for when Zy'fen was. They should have been fairly close to the right height already, and they had pins that could be moved to adjust the height a bit, too.

"Here we are." Cuylar returned. And if Zy'fen was ready to get started, Cuylar's thoughts already turned again to fitting him for a prosthetic like Haygen's. He leaned the crutches against the side of Zy'fen's cot. "I'll sit next to you and then stand up with you. Good?"


Re: Luicion

Kouga
 

Firelizard eggs, eh? Luicion thought about that sign for his chore day while Morgisu hovered nearby or overhead. Lady Tyne had suggested he could get another, so best to go ahead and scope out what was on offer. That thought had Luicion heading to the Tailor's to talk to Fellan, having to stop a few times to ask for directions for him. Morgisu scented the queen and went to land on Luicion's shoulder out of anxiety. Would she be like Bobbin and Jevensha who were nice, or would she just see "bronze" and run him off of her eggs? Sensing his friend's uncertainty, Luicion put a hand on the bronze to calm him down.
Finally finding Fellan, Luicion knocked on a nearby door post to get
their attention. " 'Scuse me, yer Fellan, right? I'm Candidate Luicion
an' I'm here ta ask about yer firelizard eggs."<<

The knock was enough to get Storm's attention and he quickly reached
out to poke his pet on the arm offering an image of Luicion to go with
it. Fellan blinked before he realized which way the blue was looking
and glanced up at the older male. He was honestly both a bit surprised
and yet not that the candidate had been able to find him, though he
did wonder how many odd looks Luicion had gotten for trying to find
him of all tailors. He offered the boy a smile and quickly pulled his
slate and writing stick over jotting down a quick 'Were you looking to
get one?' that he held up for the other to read. He hadn't caught
everything the other had said, but he had caught that he was a
candidate named Luicion and firelizard eggs so he would just have to
assume the rest.

ooc: heh sorry about the title ... apparently I only /thought/ I gave
it a title .. oops ... also FYI Fellan is deaf

*Kouga*

Join the Aywas fun - http://aywas.com/register.php?ref=768

"My personality is 30% the last anime I watched." - Tumblr
"Remind me never to get out our bad side. It seems to be ...
unhealthy." - Varric
"Death By Apple Pie a lovely poem by our friend Cole" - Dorian


Re: Who wants eggs {Fellan, Isirdux}

Kouga
 

Isirdux had seen the notice on the board, and had felt his heart leap into his chest at the thought of maybe claiming one of those eggs for himself. He didn't have a single thing to offer as a trade, though... But the notice didn't specify any kind of price attached... Were they just giving the eggs away? The thought made the boy's mind reel. He couldn't imagine anyone just giving away something so valuable! But.. this was the South, and there were tons of the little creatures all
over the Weyr, so they probably had more eggs than they knew what to do with.

And wouldn't Impressing and taking care of a firelizard be something?!
He'd be the first person from his hold to have a firelizard, and he'd
heard stories about them being able to carry messages, so he could
write his mother all the time! *If* he could get an egg. There might
be a line, they might all be gone by the time he got there...

Of the three people listed, Isirdux decided he would go look for
Fellan, rather than bother a rider or a guard. A tailor wouldn't be
so intimidating. He was glad this was his free afternoon, because it
took him a little bit to actually find where he was looking for, and
then go and find Fellan.

"Excuse me?" Isirdux querried politely. "Are you the one with the flit eggs?"<<

It was one of the times when Fellan wasn't with Bronwynn, as usually
was with the older apprentice when he could help it since it made
things easier for him and other people both. Though he was glad though
that he had been able to pry Sharp away from her eggs, though he
supposed that was become Mama Rena had been free and she and Seek were
watching the eggs, because it was harder when he relied on Storm the
blue just wasn't as good at staying he needed him. Still while someone
had directed Isirdux to him, probably giving him a weird look for
looking for Fellan in the first place, it wasn't until the older male
was there and talking that he had any idea he had company.

He looked up when Sharp knocked him on the side of the head with her
wing offering an image of the other male blinking at him catching just
the last couple of words. The image Sharp offered of her eggs up in
Rena's weyr assured him he was probably right in what he had caught.
He settled down the hide he had been going over and picked up his
slate and charcoal sitting to his side writing out a quick 'You are
here about the eggs?' and holding it up for the other to read as he
himself focused on the other's mouth.

ooc: fyi Fellan is deaf

*Kouga*

Join the Aywas fun - http://aywas.com/register.php?ref=768

"My personality is 30% the last anime I watched." - Tumblr
"Remind me never to get out our bad side. It seems to be ...
unhealthy." - Varric
"Death By Apple Pie a lovely poem by our friend Cole" - Dorian