Re: Three Men and a Note (attn: R'kyo, Get'ew, Sh'ain)


'Good day, sir
Let me first apologize for possibly adding more onto your plate after the recent Hatching, among other events.  Apparently you're one of three men who may've had some sort of...'relations'...with one Mezemme about 7 Turns ago that resulted in her first child.  A daughter that's since been named Mezea.  It was just in these last few days that we were provided the names of Mezea's potential fathers.

Mezemme has...already made her position on Mezea's care known.  And, though belated, we wanted to make sure all the other potential fathers also had a chance to have some say about that too...'

The note continued on by listing some standard care information.  There was no other mention about Mezemme or what her position was before the note had been signed by the crecheworker that'd written the note.


Mezemme... Mezemme. R'kyo turned the name over and over in his head but could not put a face to the name. Seven Turns was a very long time. But he would not let that stop him. If he had another daughter, he meant to meet her.

So the next time he had the chance, he headed to the creche to see whether he could.

"Hello? Hi. I'm R'kyo. I got a letter saying I may be a Mezea's father. I'd like to meet her if I may."

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


Zy'fen nodded. "It's weird to feel the ghost of my leg. Sometimes it feels like it's twitching, or itchy. Sometimes it just hurts. Why do I feel like it's still there?"

"Mixed up signals from your brain is our best guess," said Cuylar. "Makes as much sense as anything else, given what tends to help."

Re: You look like a match! (Tyne's flits/Sontal)


In seconds, the group had surrounded Sontal, landing on the table he was at, flapping their wings as they chattered and squawked at him. The image of the boy was being sent furiously back and forth between them as they peered at him. One brown, clearly the more confident of the group grabbed a hold of his sleeve, pulling insistently at it as though trying to urge him to follow them somewhere.

Sontal nearly fell backward out of his seat at the table where he sat doing his book learning when the firelizards appeared. What did they want? It seemed they were after him to do something, but he could not possibly imagine what.

"What do you need?" he asked the brown. "I don't have anything to eat." His voice had strange quality to it. He had not heard much of his own voice in a couple of Turns, and his muscle memory of speech only got him so far.

Welcome Aboard Elphith Airlines (jp: Attlin, Cuylar)

Laura Walker

Cuylar was not sure what he expected to find. But he had a job to do. He was going out to Garatt's father's Hold, and he was bringing the man in. He had a right to know what happened to his son, and it was not Cuylar's decision to make.

But the worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He could only play the Healer card for so long before he would have to release Garatt from his care. And then, he would no longer have that indefatigable arrow in his quiver. He would be mostly powerless to protect Garatt then if his father, this Attlin, insisted he be sent home.

But. Perhaps, if he did this right, he could convince Attlin that Garatt could stay. That being at the weyr was still best for him, despite what had happened.

Did he really believe that? It had to be true… did it not?

Elphith burst into the sky over the Hold and then came in for a landing.

It wasn’t exactly common for a green dragon to arrive - or any dragon. There were startled faces peering up at them from the fields around the hold, a few kids taking the initiative and bolting towards them. Sometimes after all dragons appeared and took kids away to get their own dragons.

And here came the Holder himself, a soberly dressed man in clothes that while well-made made a lot of use of a palette of greys with a bit of black thrown in for good measure. He walked with the quick pace of a man who was attempting not to visibly hurry but nevertheless wanted to be there extremely quickly.

“Well-met, rider! Are you here on Search?” The query was calm and courteous but there was tension in the way he stood and worry in his eyes; a man who very much feared bad news even as he sought to will it away by finding better explanations for a visiting rider.

"Good day, and well-met, sir," said Cuylar to the man who greeted him. "I'm Journeyman Healer Cuylar, this is Elphith, and we're here to speak with the Holder, Attlin." This man matched the description, but Cuylar had not expected a Holder to rush out to greet him. "Are you he?"

Elphith dipped her head to the man.

He was younger close up than he first appeared. From a distance the style of clothing and greying hair made him seem at least fifty, if not older. It was only when he was close enough to see his face that it became clearer that he was forty maybe, if not younger. 

That face was worried now, and trying not to be. Riders on search didn’t generally know Holder names. He turned a little, signalling to the children who had clustered that they should return to their chores and letting them scatter before he turned back to Cuylar. “Then yes, it would be me you’re seeking. Is there a problem?”

And what problem might there be so big that word of it could not be carried on a firelizard?

"Garatt is alive," Cuylar began, getting that out of the way first, "and is in no danger of dying." No father wanted to wait about while a Healer dilly-dallied in explaining why he was there when that most important bit of information was what they would be worrying about most.

"And he isn't in trouble. There has been an incident with a Candidatemaster who overstepped his authority, and the Infirmary had asked me to bring you to him such that you may observe him for yourself. I am his primary care provider. If you have any questions before we leave, I will do my best to answer them."

Attlin had paled at those first words, face going grey to match his clothing, but he pulled himself together with the air of someone well-used to being the calm head in an emergency. “This conversation would be better in my office.” Those words were clipped, the intonation crisp but hurried. “Please come with me. Will your green be all right?”

"Of course, sir," said Cuylar, bowing his head as well. "Thank you. Please lead the way." He had taken note of the brief loss of color. Cuylar would have expected such a reaction if he had told him Garatt was not alive. Surely, the man could not have been hoping to hear otherwise… 

Again, that brisk pace -- not running, never going so obvious as to go beyond a walk, but nevertheless hurrying their way through the corridors of the Hold. 

It was a nice Hold. The walls were hung with paintings, many presumably of family members, and there were rugs on every floor which while not the newest were both clearly of high quality and well-kept. The curtains were a similar story -- long curtains of heavy material with rich vibrant colours which had barely faded over time. There was clearly no shortage of marks here.

Attlin’s office on the other hand was small, and cluttered with papers and looked strangely sparse in its lack of decoration compared with the Hold outside its door. He waved Cuylar towards a seat, shutting the door behind them.

“Now. Tell me what’s happened. Is he badly hurt?” Less calm in his voice now the world had been shut out, far more anxiety.

"There are no permanent injuries that I am aware of at this time," Cuylar began again with the conclusion first. "One of the Candidatemasters was brought out of retirement to assist in a time when the Barracks were shorthanded. He took it upon himself to bully Garatt to make him an example. To… establish some kind of sick order." Cuylar wrinkled his nose, and that same fire burned in his eyes again.

"To give you an idea of how seriously he crossed the line, the Candidatemaster in question has been not only relieved, but also arrested."

"I'm more concerned about Garatt's mind going forward than his body," Cuylar went on. "But I mean to see through his treatment until he is entirely healed. He will not be returning to the Barracks while he is under my care." Or ever, most likely. But Cuylar did not want to have that argument any sooner than he had to.

Attlin had known it would be bad news, had known somewhere deep down that anything that brought a rider from the Weyr would not be good. He’d tried to brace for it, to prepare for the worst possible news as though that could save him when it came.

He still inhaled sharply though, and held onto the back of his chair tightly as though for support. “How did-- no, never mind.” How it had happened could be dealt with later, that wasn’t the most important thing right now. “How bad is it? Please.” He had to know all of it, had to have the bad news laid out before him now so that at least he could be satisfied that there were no more shocks coming before he started to deal with it.

"He has bruises and broken skin on his back, buttocks, and left hand. I am tending to the wounds," said Cuylar. "Nothing that won't heal." There might be some scars, but… "As I said, I'm more concerned with the trauma of this unfair treatment. He doesn't want to go back to the Barracks – he will not be made to do so. And he is afraid you will ask him to come home." He might as well broach that subject now.

As Attlin had been opening his mouth to say he could easily pay for a Hall Healer, the marks were there, he could be as safe and well-cared for at home as in the Weyr that last statement stopped him in his tracks. Oh. Well. He should have expected that perhaps.

“I see.” He’d been too well-trained in manners to let that flash of hurt show. The words were crisp, neutral, refusing to show visible reaction to that.

Cuylar titled his head for a moment. Nothing at all?

"I take this to mean he has something at the Weyr he wants to stay for," Cuylar ventured. "Though he did turn down my offer to apprentice in the Infirmary." He offered a smile.

"Are you ready to go see him?" 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Think. Calm. Process. “Give me a moment to go speak to my steward,” Attlin said after a moment’s thought. “Will there be somewhere to stay at the Weyr?”

"I can make sure you have quarters to sleep in," said Cuylar, "for at least a little while if you'd like to stay while Garatt heals."

That was a good sign, yes? Maybe not for Garatt getting to stay, but it seemed to indicate there was at least some worry there. Cuylar had expected… more than zero reaction at hearing these things. Especially that a dragonman had whipped his son bloody. But… nothing much.

In fact, the biggest reaction had come when Cuylar had told him Garatt was alive.

“He’ll want to see his aunt.” It pained him to admit it, but that was no more than fact. Attlin was well-aware of his own short-comings. “She’s a couple of hours’ ride-- oh well, I suppose not on dragonback of course.” Difficult to come around to that way of thinking. “Did he want anything from home?” It took a second before he answered his own question. “Books. He’ll want books. I can get those.” Anything to feel like he was doing something, achieving something by going, contributing somehow.

"I can bring his aunt another time, perhaps. This time, he should see you," said Cuylar. "I think he would like it very much if you brought him something familiar." Maybe not books… but Cuylar thought Garatt would appreciate his father thinking of him, one way or another. "Does he like to read?"

This was progress, perhaps…

“No. No, you don’t understand, his aunt raised him pretty much.” Attlin glanced around his office distractedly a moment. “He’d pick his aunt over me given the choice.” That was said as a simple statement of fact, in much the same way that Garatt had once calmly stated that his father would have preferred if he’d had brothers. Nothing around the office apparently struck him as useful because he gave a half shake of his head and reached for the door. “Library, I think.”

Cuylar followed after him.

"The Infirmary sent me after you," he said. "And I think I would agree with them." He was not sure just how hard he could push Attlin before he got angry, but if he was not angry already… who knew what would set him off?

“This way.” And Attlin apparently didn’t object to having a rider at his heels as he trotted back off down the corridor at a swift pace. “Who did the boy ask for?”

"He hasn't asked for anyone," said Cuylar. "But after what's happened, you deserved to be informed. I expected that you would be… angrier. At me." After all, he may as well have represented the Weyr, may as well have been the one who let this happen as far as Attlin was concerned.

“I’m sorry, I understood you were Garatt’s Healer, not in charge of the CandidateMasters?” That was politely enquiring as Attlin led the way into.. Oh. Well, that was a whole lot of books. Floor to ceiling, filling the room, a Holder’s ransom worth of books. And Attlin moved rapidly between the shelves, apparently without thought, quickly acquiring a pile picked out from various shelves.

"You understood correctly," said Cuylar. "But I suppose it's all the same to some Holders." He seemed so… cold.

"Oh." Cuylar froze as he saw the books. "Wow…" he breathed.

“You learn very quickly in this game that if you make a habit of shooting the messenger you stop receiving messages,” Attlin noted, still in that calm neutral tone. “When I’m at the Weyr, and I know who is responsible, then I shall be angry. But it would be foolish of me to upset the Healer I’m relying on to treat my son.” He offered a smile; small, polite and no more than that. “I can’t claim credit for most of the library, I’m afraid. My family collected them, not me. But Garatt liked it in here.”

"It… surprises me a bit to hear it," said Cuylar as he continued to look around the library with awe. "He seems to think he isn't very clever. And I never knew someone who wasn't very clever who liked to read. I can tell he's much cleverer than he thinks – which is why I offered to apprentice him. But. It is what he thinks."

“He’s bright enough,” Attlin observed, considering the pile of books on the table a moment and then adding one more. “Doesn’t particularly apply himself perhaps, but there’s nothing wrong with his brain.” He eyed the small stack, six books all with a well-thumbed look to them, then nodded to himself. “Will that be too many for your dragon?”

"She can carry them," Cuylar confirmed. "What are we bringing?" he asked as he looked at the spines in the stack of books.

There were two little books of children’s tales, both battered in a way which suggested they had been well-loved and passed down through a few generations. One book of histories. One bestiary (the shape and quality of the binding suggested well-illustrated and if so, that alone would be worth a decent chunk of marks). One book on runners, tracing their lineage and breeding rather than focusing on their care. And one book, added at the last with perhaps more optimism than hope, on the requirements for good management of a household. “He likes these ones -- well, most of them.” Attlin glanced at the last with a rueful twist of his lips. “Do we need anything else? Are his clothes suitable?” Being practical felt safe, as though he could at least achieve this much.

"They are," said Cuylar. "And we have plenty more to give him if he needs them. You know, these might come in a lot of handy for Garatt at the Weyr." Considering where he had found the boy, it seemed there was at least as much trust from him for Tolfast as there was for Cuylar. And evidently, Attlin knew him far better than Cuylar would have expected.

"Do you keep runners here?"

“A few. I know people prefer firelizards for message-running but sometimes a letter doesn’t convey what a voice will. And, well, we make sure the Harpers do their visits and the children get their lessons in but amongst the older cotholders especially they don’t always read well.” It was a functional answer, focusing on the runners’ purpose rather than the proud litany of breeding lines and form that might be expected from a Holder with the marks to invest in truly good runners if he actually wanted to. Attlin glanced again over the shelves, frowning a little, prompted by Cuylar’s words to look again. “I’m not sure we have anything on dragons though.” He sounded slightly peeved by this oversight, although it was truly a concern that a Hold which had little to do with dragons should not, nevertheless, have a ready selection of reference material on them if needed.

"I think Garatt would rather another book on runners than one on dragons, really," Cuylar answered. "There's a Master herdsman at the Weyr, too, who keeps the stables and oversees the pens and the like. And Garatt seems pretty interested in all of it. I bet he could learn a lot about runners from him, too."

It wasn’t imagination that said that Attlin’s face, that very calm mask that had seemed curiously unreactive to most of the news Cuylar had brought, twitched a little into a grimace. Annoyance? Or something else? “He went to the Weyr to Impress,” he pointed out, calm statement of fact. “A book on dragons would be more useful surely.” It didn’t seem to have penetrated that Impression was no longer a thing immediately on the table; possibly it had yet to penetrate at all how poor the treatment Cuylar had mentioned had actually been.

"Sir, I don't think Garatt will be Standing again," Cuylar answered. "But he could potentially make use of a time at the Weyr to learn quite a bit more about something that could be of use to him here. Two somethings, if I guess right. He could learn about how to manage a stable and care for runners, yes, but I think he could also learn the confidence to believe he could make–"

Cuylar stopped for a moment to reconsider that particular phrasing. He was not sure Attlin would be happy to hear Garatt did not think his father was proud of him.

"To believe he can be as good a Holder as you someday."

“But you said it was just bruises.” Those words came slowly, Attlin rerunning the conversation through his head for the part he must surely have missed. “Bruises and cuts, you said. Nothing permanent.” And Attlin had absorbed enough to understand his son had broken no bones, was not crippled, and failed to think further as to what those injuries actually described. “He’ll heal, surely? They wouldn’t get rid of him for a few bruises.” Still that mask, that controlled expression, but there was a hint of appeal in his voice, that of any patient or parent wanting to be told that yes, it was fine, nothing was that bad, things were going to be all right.

"He will heal physically, yes, but as I said. I'm concerned about how he will heal from the trauma. He was betrayed by someone he should have been able to trust," said Cuylar.

"If he wanted to Stand, he would be allowed back by the next Hatching, I'm sure. But he doesn't want to."

“I don’t understand.” And now Attlin spoke plainly, keen eyes on Cuylar. “He had a scare, got bashed up a little, nothing broken. What’s to heal?” It could have been said scathingly, in a way that made light of weakness, but this didn’t feel like that. Attlin sounded like a man truly trying to understand and failing, and knowing he was missing something somewhere but unable to quite locate the missing piece. “The CandidateMaster who let this incident, whatever it was, happen, he’s gone now?” 

"He has been removed from his position, yes…" Cuylar regarded Attlin curiously. He really seemed not to understand. But then, what else could Cuylar expect? This must have been where Garatt learned to keep everything inside. So Attlin had most certainly never felt anything like that overflow of emotion and pent up pain from Garatt.

Cuylar would not be surprised to find he had his own mental dam holding back even more Turns of sorrow.

"This man who did this to Garatt, it was more than just the blows. He made him feel like he was at fault for what was happening to him. And he laid all of this on top of his fear of disappointing you. He bore everything without daring to tell anyone because he thought you would be angry with him. Disappointed in him. He wants to meet your approval very much."

Cuylar hated to violate Garatt's confidence, but if there was ever going to be a reconciliation between these two, there were things they would both have to start telling each other. And Cuylar could get that ball rolling. Perhaps.

“..Blows?” Attlin held up a hand as though to stop Cuylar, needing a moment to process those words. “I don’t-- you didn’t mention blows?” Whatever he’d understood by Cuylar’s first explanation it hadn’t been this.

"If I was unclear, I apologize… but these injuries to the hand, back, and buttocks were caused by repeated blows with a cane," Cuylar elaborated. He had been a little too cautious in how he began, apparently.

There was silence, a long creeping silence where Attlin just looked at him, stared as though waiting for the punchline -- an explanation that somehow that Cuylar didn’t mean what he thought he did. He’d thought that perhaps the boy had been injured in some over-strenuous training exercise or something, not.. This.

“I don’t understand,” he said again after a minute or two, as slow horrified realisation started to creep over him. “This is..normal in the Weyr?”

"No. It isn't. Which is why the offender has been not only removed, but arrested… as I explained," Cuylar answered. "This is an extraordinary incident. And it's one that we're taking very seriously." While it had taken a moment for Attlin to realize what had happened, it was a relief to see he was more upset when he actually understood.

Cuylar would have to be careful not to leave anything else to deduction. But spelling everything out might not be much better…

“But it-- he-- that doesn’t need Healer help unless--” The calm was starting to crumble. Attlin had been switched occasionally as a boy; not frequently and not hard but just enough as a deterrent to serious mischief to understand how it generally went and to stare at Cuylar in confused horror now. Because this.. This didn’t sound like that. “And if it broke skin -- what the shards was he doing?”

"Abusing a child," said Cuylar with an apologetic wince. "Reveling in a power trip. Whatever it is that drives men to do things like this. I can assure you that Garatt did not do anything to deserve this treatment. And I hope you can accept my apology on behalf of the Weyr."

"If there had been…" Cuylar began, then sighed. "The Weyrleadership has been distracted with other things. A Hatching. A field trip for the Candidates. I'm sure you've heard of the attempted attack on the Weyrwoman at the Gather. What did they tell you about why they didn't come to bring you… oh, but they wouldn't have, would they? Garatt didn't Stand…" He sighed again.

"I tried to stop this sooner." Cuylar shook his head. "But events conspired against me, and it went this far because I failed. I am so sorry."

Words. They were words and reasons and excuses and it didn’t matter, none of them mattered right now because they couldn’t undo what had been done. Attlin took a breath and tried to pull racing thoughts under control. No point dealing with excuses right now. Fix this.. Somehow.

“He’s coming home,” he said flatly, caring little about Cuylar’s apologies at this point. “If he doesn’t want to-- he’s not thinking clearly, no-one could want to stay there after that. It’s safe here at least. I’ll-- I’ll get something. People. Those Healers who fix things when your head doesn’t work right. And he won’t have to think about it here.” An echo there of something his own parents had said once many turns ago, the same instinct they had had to wrench their son away from pain and put him somewhere he’d never have to think about it again. “I can’t, I’m not leaving him somewhere that can be missed. If he’s not Standing anyway, there’s no point, he can just-- better he be here.”

Now this was more like what Cuylar had expected from the first.

"Garatt asked me to help him stay. While he's still under my care, I must insist that you let me keep my promise to him," said Cuylar. He kept himself from standing up straight with his conviction – he was not out to physically intimidate a Holder. "And I ask that you listen to what he wants. It won't help him to heal just to be in the care of a different adult who won't hear him. Or for another someone he trusts to break a promise."

“He’s a child. He doesn’t know what he wants.” The anger was late to arrive but it was there finally and behind it its close companion, guilt. “If I hadn’t listened to what he wanted he would have been safe here, not at the sharding Weyr!”

"He is a child," Cuylar agreed. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he wants. I understand you have a duty to do what you think is best for Garatt. Every parent has such a duty. And so do I. This is why I'm only asking you to delay in making your decision until he's healed. He's not fit to travel now by dragonback, runnerback, cart, or wagon, regardless. Come see him. Talk to him," he begged.

Prepare yourself for the worst news and it shouldn't hurt so much. Brace yourself, dig your heels in in preparation, and you'd survive the worst of what life threw at you. 

It wasn't working today.

“He’ll want his aunt, not me.” From one extreme to the next; from wanting the boy back with him full time to being unsure it should be him dealing with this at all. “She’ll blame me for sending him to the Weyr, Faranth take her, but it's her he’ll want if he’s..” Scared. Hurting. Other things Attlin felt entirely unprepared to deal with. “We should fetch her.”

"Can I tell you something personal?" Cuylar asked. He went on without waiting for a response. "When I found Garatt, while I was treating the wounds when they were fresh, I offered Elphith's ear to him. I wanted him to know he could call to her and she would hear him if he ever needed help."

"And when he spoke to her, he said… a lot. It was like… a flood of everything that had been on his mind for… a long, long time. And everything she hears, I hear." That sounded better than that Elphith actually told him those things purposefully. So that he could share in those feelings.

"In all of that, he never mentioned anything about his aunt. But he did mention you. I think he would rather see you."

“Then take me as well. But if we don't fetch her now I'll have to get my steward to send a message to her. She’d be there within the day anyway, and she’d not forgive me for leaving her to start.” Attlin spoke more firmly now. “If you want me to listen to what the boy wants you need to listen to me. She fostered Garatt his first ten turns. He’d want her if he's hurt.”

"I'm not sure Elphith can carry all three of us," said Cuylar.

((I can, too – don't be ridiculous.))

[[Just work with me here.]]

"So if it's acceptable, I'll take you and then go to get your sister…in-law?" Cuylar amended at the last moment. Attlin likely would have called her his sister if she was.

“Sherall.” There was clear relief in Attlin’s voice at this concession. “There's a map in here, I can use it to point out where you need to be. She was my wife’s sister.” Was, in a time long ago that had now passed.

"Thank you," said Cuylar as he walked to the map. He would probably have to between back to Attlin's Hold and then fly overland, but it could not be so far away that this would be a problem. Unless he could find someone else who had the right visualization.

Two hours on a runner was barely fifteen minutes on dragonback, one of the advantages of wings. Attlin unrolled the map and pointed it out, tracing the distance from his hold with a finger lest Cuylar struggled with map-reading. It was a much smaller hold, but there were tiny holes embedded in the hide as though from old pins. Clearly - as was perhaps understandable - this was not the first time Attlin had plotted this particular journey.

Or had it been Garatt looking after he’d been moved from his aunts?

“They have animals.” Attlin looked at him seriously as though considering this might be a problem. “Runners and herdbeast and the like.”

"I'll land far enough away not to startle them," Cuylar promised. He was used to that, anyway.

“She's an odd woman but she's fond of Garatt and he of her.” Attlin regarded him anxiously.”You will go and get her as soon as you've dropped me off?” As though he needed to know back up was coming to manage this.

"Once I've made sure I haven't left you wandering alone in the weyr bowl, that is." Cuylar offered a weak smile. "Have you ever flown before?"

“When Garatt Stood the first time.” Attlin didn't look like a man exactly enthusiastic about the experience but he set his chin and stood, picking up the pile of books. “Not my favourite way to travel but I'll live.”

"Ready to get gone?" asked Cuylar. "Can I help carry anything?" He doubted the man would let him, but he could at least offer.

“..I’m going to need to put these in a bag, aren’t I.” Attlin looked at the books, frowning, the idea clearly just occurring to him. “No way to hold on otherwise.” He considered then tucked them under one arm, turning back to the door. “Eh. I’ll get one on the way out.”

One trip between later, Elphith circled in for a landing in the bowl near the Infirmary.

"Here we are." He slid down and then reached up to offer Attlin a hand. "Solid ground."

Attlin had done passably well for an adult who had barely ever been dragonback, which was to say he had neither screamed nor thrown up his dinner. Still he looked grateful to have his feet on the ground again. “Which way is the Infirmary?”

"This is it here," Cuylar gestured toward the entrance. Garatt would likely be with the beastcrafters, but Cuylar also wanted to avoid dropping his father directly onto his head without being there at the same time.

"We have klah and snacks if you'd like some while you wait for me to fetch Sherill," he added.

Attlin had been working himself up ready to have to see the boy alone. He deflated a little as this seemed entirely unnecessary. “Oh. I thought-- is it a bad time?”

"A bad time?" Cuylar asked. He tilted his head curiously. He had just thought to himself about keeping Garatt from having to see his father alone, but it did not occur to him immediately that this was what Attlin meant.

"Oh. He's just likely not here. He'd be with the beastcrafters unless he was in for me to check up on how he's healing."

Somehow Attlin had been picturing his son on bedrest. It made sense that he was not; bruises hardly called for it. Still, it meant adjusting his mental picture and he scowled a little unconsciously. “You mentioned them before.”

"Are… beastcrafters a sore subject?" Cuylar wondered. It seemed as though Attlin was not at all very pleased any time Cuylar brought them up.

“The boy’s bright. He doesn’t need to waste his brain fussing about in a stables,” Attlin said shortly. He was at least self-aware enough to understand that ‘and runners are dangerous’ made no sense from a man who had sent him son to be a rider even if his gut told him it was correct.

"Master Tolfast is a clever man himself," said Cuylar. He supposed there were apprentices who were really not cut out for progression in the stables, but one did not make journeyman in any craft without being a bit clever.

"Garatt seems to like him. Well, the stables are there." He pointed. "And the herdsmen's quarters are not far off. There, I think. But I don't often have occasion to visit."

Just walk in, find him and say--

What? He’d never been good at conversing with the boy at the best of times. Now his bank of easy topics felt almost empty. 

“..Maybe I’ll just wait for Sherill.”

"Would you like me to go with you? And then I'll go get Sherill?" Cuylar offered. If he could "reintroduce" them, so to speak, it might not seem so much to Garatt that Cuylar had let his father ambush him.

Attlin offered an uneasy smile, one that seemed almost nervous. “If the boy’s at -- chores, is it? Lessons? Maybe I shouldn’t interrupt.”

Cuylar smiled back reassuringly.

"By the time I get back, I bet he'll be ready to break for lunch. And then maybe you all can eat together." He wanted to include himself, but perhaps it would be better to wait to be invited. "Come on, I'll show you where you can wait."

Elphith leaned in slowly to sniff Attlin's hair.

It was a little unnerving to have a dragon sniffing at you when you weren’t used to it. Attlin didn’t flinch but he did edge carefully away, no sudden movements, nice and slow just in case the dragon should take it badly. “Ah. Does the dragon want something?” Hopefully she wasn’t hungry.

"I think she likes you," said Cuylar. He offered another smile. He had been around dragons long enough that it never occurred to him that someone might be uneasy.

((I think he is nicer than he lets on. He reminds me of the Runner.)) That was Garatt now to Elphith, the Runner.

"Yes, she likes you," he confirmed. "If she's bothering you, she can back up a bit."

“I don’t have any food or anything to give it-- er-- her?” If a dog were sniffing at him like that he would assume it wanted food. Similarly with a runner. Which made a dragon sniffing at your head a touch worrying. Careful still he retreated towards Cuylar, moving as one might be expected to around a dog that might suddenly decide to bite, very slowly, arms and hands very still. 

((I will not hurt you,)) Elphith said to Attlin. She was only a little offended that he would think she might. A little. She slowly backed up as well to give him his space.

"She was just trying to be friendly. Nothing to worry about," Cuylar explained.

Attlin startled at the voice in his head; the control required to not flinch back from the unexpected contact was like iron, holding still by sheer will.

And then he processed the words and relaxed a little. He risked a smile, small and hesitant. “I am sorry,” he apologised to Elphith directly, dipping back to well-trained Holder courtesy. If this dragon could talk to him like a person it was polite to reply as to a person.  “It’s just you’re very.. big, close up.” Not what most of the Weyr would have described her as perhaps, but it wasn’t as though he’d met many golds to compare her with.

Elphith bowed in return and refrained from speaking again. She did not want to disturb him.

"No worries," Cuylar assured him.

Or maybe she would speak again. ((You reminded me of the Runner. Your son. I should not have assumed the same familiarity. So I am the one who should apologize.))

“The runner?” Attlin’s eyebrows rose a little at that name, quirking slightly. 

"That's what she's calling Garatt in her head now. Dragons have a different sort of memory, so she remembers people more as… roles rather than names. Garatt is the Runner for her," Cuylar explained. He left out the bit about how that was true for the moment because he had just attempted to run away.

“Never noticed the boy running that much,” Attlin said quizzically as he turned, and hesitated as to where he was meant to be going. Well, maybe he had for the first little bit after he’d come from his aunt’s. But he’d stopped, and Attlin had thought of it as a piece of boyishness grown out of. 

"Well. Who can know the mind of a dragon?" Cuylar laughed. "Here. I'll show you to the waiting area."

Attlin looked at the Infirmary they passed through in much the same wondering manner that Cuylar had looked at his bookshelves. “You have a lot of Healers,” he noted, clearly struck by the busyness of the place. His hold was not a small one and still they were used to two Healers at most. This was somewhat awe-inspiring by comparison.

"Well. Thread does what Thread does," Cuylar explained. He had ever and always been near a lot of Healers. He noted their absence, not their abundance.

"I came here to heal and ended up Impressing anyway."

“Those -- the MindHealers we mentioned. You have a lot of them?” Attlin was viewing the area they walked through with an assessing eye, a man ready to prioritise good medical treatment for his child right now. If that meant paying, he could pay. If it meant the Weyr.. Well, he could think about that.

"We have plenty," Cuylar confirmed. "And Garatt will have free access to them, of course. I'll be prescribing sessions as part of his recovery."

“Hm.” Attlin contemplated that for a moment. “Do they work generally in your opinion?” It was a frank question, asked of a Healer he was able to accept as expert for now.

"They do," said Cuylar. "I have personal experience with benefitting from treatment with a Mindhealer." He was not sure how much he wanted to go into that, as it would only feed fears about the danger in a weyr.

Attlin scowled a little, but it was a thoughtful scowl, not really aimed at Cuylar. Just the way his face seemed to settle into a frown when he was chewing something over in his head. “I was always taught that the best thing was just to take your mind off it,” he observed neutrally. “You don’t think being here is just going to remind him?”

"I can prescribe a session for you," Cuylar suggested, "so you can test it out and see for yourself whether you think it will help Garatt." Considering how much Garatt had been taking his mind off all of the things that were truly weighing on him, Attlin could probably use it. Even if he had to trick him into it.

“Ah, no. Thank you.” Unsurprising perhaps that Attlin grimaced at the idea. A man got to that age without talking about his problems the idea started to look rather unpalatable. “More seeking your professional opinion.”

"My professional opinion is that the Weyr is a big place. Being in the Barracks would probably not be good for him healing. But the Stables are a safe place for him," Cuylar answered. He supposed it was a long shot to get Attlin in front of a Mindhealer, but it had been worth a try.

“And there’s the other problem,” Attlin admitted, rubbing his forehead and looking a little worried. “The boy might want to be at the Weyr sure enough, but if he’s not going to Impress there are things he needs to be learning. And he’s not going to learn them in a stables.”

"We have Harpers here, too," said Cuylar. "But you did already say Garatt was clever. What if he were to receive lessons on managing the Stables?"

“And if we were Callamere it might be useful for him,” Attlin said dryly. “But we’re arable, I’m afraid. The few runners we’ve got in our stables don’t take a great deal of managing. The men who work our fields on the other hand need looking after.”

"Stablehands, fieldhands… There's some amount of overlap here when it comes to managing people," said Cuylar. "He doesn't have to stay here forever, but that doesn't mean his time here can't be well spent."

“It’s time,” Attlin said frankly. “It would be different if there were more steps between him and the hold, but as it is if something happened to me..” He shrugged a little. “He wouldn’t be ready.”

Though Attlin didn’t really look old enough that this should be of significant concern yet; but then he was old enough to have inherited himself and have been running the Hold for some turns already.

"He's fourteen," said Cuylar. "If something happened to you, Faranth forbid, he would have a steward. Someone to help him. He won't just have to do it on his own. But you'll be living to a ripe old age, so it won't come up."

“Yes. Well, it would be nice to plan for that but sometimes things happen.” Attlin sighed. “Never mind. I need to talk to the boy about it anyway.”

"Of course," Cuylar nodded. "Should I fetch his aunt, then?" he asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Attlin was polite and settled himself on one of the seats in the room Cuylar had shown him into with the expression of a man prepared to wait a while. As long as it took in fact.


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: Trying to be Subtle atten: Tamalack/Kalain


"I know," Tamalak said as Chato crawled into his lap. "I'm even more surprised? Confused? Something, because this isn't something I expected. I've never been opposed to," he waved his hand around, "this. I just never thought about it. It's all new to me--the feelings, the wanting. I found myself wanting to ravage you." He grinned at Kalain. "I think that's why Chato got confused. I can't wait for them to be older."

On Mon, Sep 28, 2020 at 10:15 AM sailyn2 <empressoftheworld@...> wrote:
"It's just hard to admit the change in feelings, I think," Kalain said. "We've been friends for so long and I know neither of us want to lose this, but...I can't get rid of how I feel. Lying about it more would just have put a wedge between us." He wished he could touch Tam. Hold him, but not with Sleek worried at the back of his mind.

She got up and pressed her body against his, confused.

Re: Camping Trip Greenflight!!: Into the Unknown ((Attn: Kinara/Arendelth, any chasers))


As Kinara tensed and woke, D'vik who had been laying there, simply enjoying the aftermath of the flight patted her shoulder lightly and rumbled in his soft voice. 

"It's alright Kinara. You're safe." He left his hand on her shoulder but lightly. He didn't want her to feel trapped or pinned, merely like she was safe and supported. He yawned softly and stretched, grunting softly when a rock that he hadn't noticed decided to press itself uninvited against his rear. A couple shifts of his body later, he was free of the rock, but still very much undressed. In the middle of what had been some..ferns? Perhaps? At least they weren't something itchy.

"You alright then?" D'vik opened his eyes, got sun in them and closed them again with a soft groan. "Well it's morning then." Slowly he opened his eyes again and raised a hand to wipe his eyes, and to wipe the rest of the sand off of his face, or as much as he could anyhow. His hair, which certainly needed a trim was flat against his head on one side, the other sticking straight up in a way that could only be described as comical. Giving her another light squeeze with his other hand he yawned again, and slowly sat up. Groaning a little as over used muscles griped about the odd position and sleeping on the ground which leached away body heat.
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, , Vayka (Healers), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM), L'rin (Weyrling)

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


"He is. You're very good with him," Tam said, impressed with her ability to train him. "I think that he'd make a great Search and Rescue. Faranth knows we need them. Back during one of the earthquakes Arolos seems to have so often--I was pretty young--I got trapped with some other 'brats when a tunnel collapsed. The rockfall broke my leg." He wasn't proud of how babyish he'd been then, crying from the pain. He hadn't cried since, because one of the older boys had called him a baby.

"Whers found us. It was wonderful. And they're so strong, able to dig through the walls. These guys," he watched as Chato chased Cremmie, then in turn was chased by him, "I think they'll be good diggers. It'll be a while before we can breed them though, and breed enough of them." It occurred to him that Chato was going to be busy, since there were two greens and a gold amongst them all.

On Mon, Sep 28, 2020 at 9:01 PM Alyx <scottish.wolfecary@...> wrote:
Cremmie bounced and fanned his wings again before  flicking them closed and going for a swipe at Chato's forelegs. Growling his play growl. Alyx left the leash loose so that neither would get tangled up. Thankfully they both seemed inclined to keep it as play, and not get aggressive with each other.

"Oh I am too. I want to train him for that. With me being a healer, and I'm working on JM status. I think I'd be good to have along on search and rescues. Cremmie's going to be a strong one, and he's already so well behaved." Alyx said while the two played.
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, , Vayka (Healers), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM), L'rin (Weyrling)

Re: A lil chitchat never hurts a thing. (Vayka/Temeir)


"Hi, Journeywoman Vayka." Temeir greets respectfully, after a moment, blinking at the sudden deluge of words. "My name is Temeir. They said I had to pick a craft to work at while I'm a Candidate here, and I wanted to try being a Healer. They help everyone, and every Hold and Weyr need them. Is there a difference between Hold Healers and work in a Weyr? Do the dragons ever talk to you? No, I don't think being sick would be fun. The Weyrwoman comes in here? Is she sick?" Temeir wanted to know, following Vayka willingly over to scrub his hands clean. "Are flits allowed in here? I promise Volly won't be any trouble. I trained him good." 

Volly, hearing his name, perked up on his human's shoulder, chittered a greeting to the Taller One. 

A lil chitchat never hurts a thing. (Vayka/Temeir)


She'd just come on shift, and was getting ready for her rounds when one of the older apprentices wandered by saying they had a new candidate looking to join the healers, and that most of the other JM's were busy, would she mind terribly giving him the intro? Vayka nodded at the request, she always loved working with the new ones. They had so many questions and some of them were very Good questions. She told the apprentice to go ahead and send him to her there in the break room, she was mixing her klah when she heard a soft knock at the door as the older apprentice returned with the new lad and left him to shadow Vayka for the day.

"Well Hello there! Looking to join the healers here are we? Well it's a hard job sometimes, but it's worth it. Let's get you all suited up and you can follow me on my rounds today. I'm JM Vayka. You're lucky we've not had any, well major issues in the last bit. Though I highly suggest you steer clear of the Weyrwoman if she ends up here again. Lovely though she is, the Infirmary isn't her favorite place at all.  Not that I blame her, no one likes to be sick do they?"
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, , Vayka (Healers), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM), L'rin (Weyrling)

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


Cremmie bounced and fanned his wings again before  flicking them closed and going for a swipe at Chato's forelegs. Growling his play growl. Alyx left the leash loose so that neither would get tangled up. Thankfully they both seemed inclined to keep it as play, and not get aggressive with each other.

"Oh I am too. I want to train him for that. With me being a healer, and I'm working on JM status. I think I'd be good to have along on search and rescues. Cremmie's going to be a strong one, and he's already so well behaved." Alyx said while the two played.
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, , Vayka (Healers), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM), L'rin (Weyrling)

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


D'vik couldn't help a soft chuckle at her rambling, though there was nothing of cruelty in it. The egg in front of him seemed to almost wiggle in time with the chuckle. Fabio arranged himself happily in her lap, and the second bronze more or less ignored her. The leathery egg gave another great wobble, and split as if there was a seam down the side of it. From the egg fell a small blue wher. Unfortunately for it, it had landed on it's back. It gave a squeal that was half hunger, half disgust at being stuck upside down.

D'vik with his lack of fear around draconics simply reached over and with one of his large hands righted the little fella, completely ignoring the attempt to take a chunk out of his hand. "Easy there lad, easy. Here's something much tastier than a bony hand. Here you go." With those calm words he started feeding the Hatchling bits of meat. There was one more squeal, then the bond fell into place, and the tiny fellow made a low happy croon, which was immediately echoed by the two bronze flits. The blue briefly glanced at the two, then back to the hand with food in it. He gulped the next bit, and the one after that. The bowl seemed to empty far too quickly into the belly of the little fella. With the last bite of food the little blue gave a mighty yawn and crawled into the man's lap, barely keeping his eyes open, and was quickly dozing.

Now that the bond was formed, and the chaos settled for the moment. D'vik rose from his crouch, cradling the blue against his chest. It immediately became clear why the chair was so large, as D'vik himself was a large fella. 6'5 and broad shouldered. He towered over most of the people he knew. He walked slowly towards the girl in his chair, stopping by a table to open a drawer and pull out his own bottle of numbweed. 

"Sadly little Fabio there needs treatment quite often. He's a...special sort. Aren't you bud? Got yourself hurt again?" Fabio chittered happily at his person, completely oblivious to the words being spoken, responding instead to the obvious affection behind the words.
Have fun with any of my characters. Alyx, Lerian (candidates), Vayka (Healer), J'hen, D'vik, Teyra, Cotai (Riders), Rotasta (AWLM)

I spy with my little eyes... (Tyne's flits/Tolfast/Cuylar)


The swarm was becoming more agitated in their search. They had surrounded children across the Weyr and yet none of them matched the image they had been given. There was an ominous, low thrumming coming from the group as they plundered through the air and it seemed entirely fraught with urgency. More and more had joined the swarm, some wild, some Impressed but the calls between them contained the exact information. Find the boy. This boy. The one that the Queen needed them to find. The boy with dark, curly hair.

From within the large, open room of the main part of the firelizard clinic, Tyne waited. A spinner in the middle of a web. She felt the clamour within her mind, felt the strands of multi-coloured threads wrap around themselves until it was a rope of many colours, thick with emotion and imagery. Of all the flits that had left her, only two remained. Bobbin and the strange little bronze that she had taken to calling "Dune" for his sandy coloured hide. Both remained close by, Bobbin in her lap as the gold buffered the threads of anxious, quivering concern with calm, reinforcing the image of the boy that Tyne kept pressing to them whilst Dune watched with abject fascination.

She felt the disappointment when they realised that the children they had found were the "Wrong One" but praised their efforts nonetheless, urging them to continue. It felt as though time had slowed to a treacle covered haze but already she could feel the spikes of effort beginning to needle their way through, could feel her grip slowly becoming more tenuous. She would only be able to hold them for so long and then, she would have to let go. But for as long as she could, she would hold onto them, hold onto the buffet of emotion of pictures that filled her thoughts until it felt as though her mind was overflowing. 

And then...

It was chance. She knew that immediately. A small group of firelizards playing with glowbugs near the runner paddocks had caught the edge of the pull, caught the excited, urgent chatter of the swam and had been intrigued by the singular thread of control that ran through them all. Like a gold. But not. But with a gold. It was chance that a pair of blues glanced down as they span into the air, their attention momentarily caught by movement on the ground beneath them. And for a split second, Tyne saw it. The familiar shape of Tolfast and beside him... As they passed the glows hanging from the stables, Tyne saw the shape of the boy. The height, the build and the dark, curly hair.Heading towards the tunnel, headed towards the Weyr, headed towards...

... The office. Tyne knew it immediately. Tolfast's own quarters were a little further beyond the direction they travelled. And where else would you take a boy, possibly a very frightened boy, but to somewhere safe. Somewhere they couldn't run away from. Before she let go, Tyne summoned up the energy to push through a flood of jubilant gratitude to the swarm as the firelizards, feeling the grip slacken, began to break away from the group. And then, she released the rope. Immediately, she felt the chatter shift from keen focus to dull white noise. Felt the gleeful excitement of success as she stopped listening to the others. But already she felt the pressure in her head, the dull and throbbing ache of tension behind her eyes. Tyne's hand patted Bobbin's back and immediately the gold was on alert.

"Find Cuylar or Elphith, sweet one. Show him. And this." Tyne had seen Tolfast's office herself. Knew where it was. How to find it. "And then Cremsden. He'll know what to bring." And as she sagged back into the chair and Bobbin took to the air, vanishing in a quick blast of Between, her own faire was returning, their clamour muting as they felt the familiar mental exhaustion that pulled around their Mistress.

But they had found him. Now it was up to everyone else.

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: For Want Of A Horse Attn Tolfast

Laura Walker

"..M'ayen.." Garatt's voice dropped to a whisper as though to shield from malicious listeners. "None of them like me but he.." He swallowed, hugging himself for protection. "I don't want to go to his office again." Because bad things happened in there, awful things, and they were getting worse. "I don't.. I don't mind Healers if it's Cuylar, but I went to try and find him and he wasn't there." 

On Mon, Sep 28, 2020 at 1:43 AM Ariel Rogers <> wrote:
His office? The person Garatt was terrified by was an adult? Listening to the boy's tearful explanation of the threats made him bristle with anger, but it was glimpsing the caning marks across Garatt's hand that set his blood to boiling. He wasn't being bullied by another child, this was perpetrated by an authority figure. Suddenly Garatt's distrust of those in charge made a chilling amount of sense and he understood from where the fear of returning to the Barracks had come. The monster was inside the Barracks

"It's alright, lad. No dragon can see into your head unless he's your dragon," he tried to set the record right, knowing this much at least. "You can tell me. Do you know the name of the person who hurt you?" 

To comfort the boy with reassurance, he laid a coarse hand on his shoulder. "Don't you worry about Dara, it'll be our little secret. She would have enjoyed the exercise anyway." He managed a smile for Garatt's sake, but inside he was livid. 

"If.. if you'll let me, I would like to carry you down to my friends at the Infirmary. They'll take good care of you, and I won't leave your side." He didn't dare grab the boy without consent, but if Garatt's rear was in any similar state to his hand, Tolfast knew he needed Healer help.

On Sun, Sep 27, 2020, 4:27 PM Laura Walker <shewhoguards@...> wrote:
"He said if I told anyone else his dragon would know." And Garatt had believed him, at least enough to take the threat seriously, enough for the words to be sobbed out. "I'm meant to be out of the Weyr or I'll have to go to his o-o-office--" that word was choked out as though too terrible to contemplate "--I-- I was just going to borrow Dara to get to my auntie's, I swear, she would have sent her back--" Though Faranth knew how he thought he might have ridden her, when he could barely even sit down. He hiccuped, crying in a breathless pant that left him feeling lightheaded and a little dizzy. "Auntie wouldn't've been cross, she, I never meant to get into trouble.."

He hadn't meant to show Tolfast his hand either but for the moment his behind was hurting enough for him to have forgotten to guard it, the lines and swelling showing clear across the palm as he waved it trying to explain.

On Mon, Sep 28, 2020 at 1:13 AM Ariel Rogers <> wrote:
"No one's gonna send you anywhere, I promise." Tolfast addressed him very seriously, kneeling before the nigh-trembling child. He wanted so badly to pick the boy up in his arms for a solid hug, but doubted that this was the best solution. "They'll have to go through me first." 

Tilly, seemingly emboldened by her master's mood, let out a quiet little bugle as if in agreement. No one would get through her! 

There was no judgment in the Master's face, only deep concern etched into his lightly wrinkled forehead. "Can you show me where it hurts? Can you tell me what happened?"

On Sun, Sep 27, 2020, 3:59 PM Laura Walker <shewhoguards@...> wrote:
"It--" There could be no pretence of being fine this time. Garatt was trembling with reaction, reaching around as though to rub where it hurt and then hesitating before he got that for because.. because touching it was going to hurt, everything was going to hurt, it hurt like something was badly wrong and maybe it would never stop. It felt like the only time hurting stopped any more was when they got replaced by other bigger hurts. "It hurts." His voice wobbled and then broke on a sob. "If I go to the Infirmary they'll send me back but it hurts!"

On Mon, Sep 28, 2020 at 12:50 AM Ariel Rogers <> wrote:
Tolfast moved to the cookstove, lighting the stove from a tinderbox kept on the shelf nearby and starting to pour water from a skin into the kettle. He was quite ready to hear about missed essays, so when Garatt's shriek of pain met the air, Tolfast twisted around in surprise ashen-faced and wide-eyed. "What the-- Garatt, what happened? What's wrong?" The teapot clattered onto the floor with a muffled noise, dumping its unheated contents across the rug, forgotten as Tolfast hurried back to the boy. "Are you hurt?" He knew of the injured wrist, but that hadn't caused the boy to rocket off the chair. 

Tilly scrambled under the desk, cowering here at the shrill noise with her squat-nosed face peeking out from beneath only once the screaming had ceased. 

On Sun, Sep 27, 2020 at 3:39 PM Laura Walker <shewhoguards@...> wrote:

Tilly wasn't properly dissuaded until the boy swatted gently in her direction. She didn't understand why she wasn't allowed to sniff this smell, a perfectly ordinary fact-finding mission to the little green that small two-legs objected to. She rushed around to follow when he turned the first few times, trying to circumvent his efforts to keep her away, before giving a frustrated whine. {{Tilly want!}} She complained, scampering to keep up on her short legs even though the pace was slow. 

"They?" Tolfast asked, leading the way back to the stableyard. Garatt's absence had been noted after his visits had become like clockwork, but there hadn't been any reason to suspect wrongdoing - until now. No others were awake at this hour save for the occasional guard on patrol, leaving this side of the Weyr looking very much like a ghost town without even a hint of the uproar happening on the other. "If there's someone giving you a hard time, all you need do is let me know their name and I'll make sure the CM's know 'em." He could hardly be blamed for thinking the boy's bully was another Candidate.

The gravel crunched beneath their feet all the way up to the corridor where Tolfast kicked his boots against the wall to shed the stones trapped in his soles, beckoning Garatt in through the wide double-doors. His office was only a short walk further inside, the basket of glows he carried providing the only light as the wall sconces had long since been extinguished for the night. 

"Here we go," he introduced, turning the knob and swinging wide the door that squeaked gently on old hinges. Modestly decorated, there was little in the room that set it apart from any other moderately-sized room in the Weyr. Rather than dominating the center of the room, the large wooden desk had been shoved up against one wall where it was buried under stacks of hide that looked disorganized, but held no dust which suggested they were exchanged regularly. A tiny cookstove had capacity only for a pot of water, though he rarely used it. There was room for two comfortable chairs meant for guests placed around a beat-up rug in the middle of the floor, the third was extraordinarily plain and tucked against the desk. 

"Take a seat, I'll get us something warm to drink. I've got klah, but I'm sure there's some tea around here somewhere."

"Got behind on essays," Garatt confessed shame-faced to the floor, still not entirely convinced this wouldn't trigger a new wave of adult disapproval. "They wouldn't let m--"

He was tired, and the chair looked comfortable and he hadn't entirely been thinking. Despite walking oh-so-carefully up from the stables to try to avoid pain it was easy and automatic to let himself drop into one of those chairs.

Oh, that hurt. That hurt and he hadn't been ready, bracing himself for it to hurt, ready to hold his reaction in. The yelp was close to a scream and he was back up more quickly than he had sat down, breathing hard, close to tears again because oh. Oh that hurt *so much*.


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.


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.


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.


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.

Time To Seek! (atten: any searcher/Guard)


"All right, Kalisk. We have a job, okay? We have to find someone. He's missing. He could be hurt. You got the image, right? Search!" 

Keeping pace with his wher, Kalin set off, attention alert.

Release the Guards JP Kassia/R'tal/N'shen


Kassia checked in with T’rifoshe as soon as Andronda was gone and verified that Garatt was the boy who had been abused and who was missing. With Ma’yen’s victim safely out of reach of Ma’yen (if possibly not of who knew what else), arresting him right that moment wasn’t as necessary and Kassia wanted to talk with her Weyrleaders first.

((Mine, have Truenoth’s and Talith’s meet me at my office,)) she said, already on the way out the door with Brogan at her side.

Foreth grunted but passed the message.

N'shen could not imagine what else could possibly have fallen on their plates, but he gathered up his best stoic expression and reported to Kassia's office.

“What now?” R’tal was feeling less stoic, and more on the edge of wanting to kill the next person to add One More Problem onto their plate, so the question was demanded as soon as he stepped in. “I swear to Faranth, if it’s Ista I’m getting someone to give me a lift and flying over there myself..”

Kassia was pacing her office, her good hand on the Silk Dagger. She shook her head at the demand.

“Internal issue,” she told him. “Ma’yen’s been abusing the Candidates. One in particular who is now missing and hopefully not at his hand. I wanted to let you know before I went down there with guards to arrest him.”

She reached for Foreth again and the gold reluctantly sent the same images that Nekantiath had sent to her of what Ma’yen had been involved in.

N'shen folded his arms and scowled.

"Good. Yes. Good," he said. "Do you need any more escort, any more assistance? … Wait, are you sure it's a good idea for you to be there?" he amended as he began to think this through.

“It’s not a good idea for you to be there,” R’tal confirmed. “You’re not going. Nor are we. You didn’t convince me we need to spend this much on guards so that you can throw yourself into danger.” He paused. “Wait, only maybe not at his hand and the guards aren’t already there? What the shards are we waiting for?”

Mostly for the thread of denial that Kassia still wanted to harbor after her mistake, but she didn’t say that outloud. Instead she reached for Foreth and communicated what she wanted.

((Ardeth,)) Foreth passed on, using gold compulsion. ((You are not to let your rider know we are looking for him, but we need to know exactly where he is right now and if he leaves that place.))

The bronze sounded sleepily sated in his reply, quite content with the world. ((He’s just leaving the flight rooms.)) And the pair of them were clearly far too awash with flight hormones still for it to occur to Ardeth to be concerned. ((These ones.)) A quick flash to show the area.

Foreth relayed and it was distinct enough that Kass recognized it. She hurried outside to send one of her guards to get the message that Ma’yen needed to be arrested while still conferring with her lifemate.

((Who did you fly?)) Foreth asked the bronze.

((Shepeth.)) Ardeth shared that image as well willingly enough, a large lean green with pretty pale belly and legs. And young, only a few turns old.

Which meant the rider was also likely to be young. Not that it mattered much to Ardeth who saw no difference other than being pleased with himself for being able to beat off the younger competitors.

Kassia cursed at the new info and now had Foreth reach for the green.

((Shepeth, is Yours okay?)) the gold asked, only a little put out once she understood why she kept having to play relay service.

((He is… not severely injured,)) said Shepheth. ((But I think he feels gross,)) she explained. ((I do not like it. I did not mean for this to happen.))

((You did nothing wrong,)) Foreth replied, sending calming feelings to the young green. ((Mine is dealing with the one that made Yours feel that way.))

Kassia went back to the other two. “Guards are on the way to get Ma’yen. He just came from a flight with a young greenrider. Foreth is talking to the green right now.”

“...Feck.” R’tal did not like those implications, even as he mentally tried to talk himself into fairness. “He-- well, greenflights do happen,” he allowed begrudgingly. “What did the dragon say?”

“That His isn’t hurt but ‘feels gross’,” Kassia passed on, a pit of nausea settling in her stomach. 

"Then the Candidate is still missing? Is anyone looking for him – do we need to organize a search party?" N'shen asked. This was most certainly more than they needed on top of everything else.

“Need to get someone to check on that greenrider as well,” R’tal added. “I mean.. ‘Feels gross’ can mean a lot of things,” he added, still trying not to jump to conclusions. “I mean..everyone has a flight like that from time to time. Sometimes it’s just..not someone you would have slept with by choice. But it needs checking.”

“The ACMs are looking, but we should send some guards there, too,” Kassia said. “Who do you want to send to the greenrider?”

R’tal considered, thinking it over. “He’s definitely not hurt or in need of an Infirmary check over?” he verified.

Kassia conferred with Foreth who reached for Sepheth again.

((Are you sure Yours isn’t hurt? Doesn’t need to see a Healer?))

((He is soaking in the baths. He has decided if he still feels gross after, he will go to the Healers. Has M'nom done something wrong?)) Shepheth asked.

((Yours has not,)) Foreth assured him. ((Sometimes Ours get hurt while we fly and Mine wanted to make sure Yours did not.))

((Thank you for worrying,)) said Shepheth. ((Should I let you know if he does decide to see the Healers? Or if they say he is more hurt than he thinks?))

((Yes, please. Mine would like to know.))

Foreth pulled away and reported back to Kassia who passed on to the males, “Shepeth doesn’t think he needs a healer, but his rider will go if he’s still not feeling right after a bath.”

“Okay.” That was at least a little reassuring. R’tal grimaced. “You know it might just have been a bad flight. I know what we’re all thinking but..”

"We can ask the greenrider about it if it becomes necessary," said N'shen. "For now, do we not have more pressing things to worry about?" He was already fidgeting to get moving.

There was a knock then, indicating a return of the guard Kassia had sent off.

“We need to send guards to reinforce the ACMs for looking for the boy,” Kassia said as she headed for the door.

“You’re in charge of Candidates, Kass,” R’tal said.  It was rare that division was stated so plainly when they weren’t actually arguing. “If you want to interview him then I’ve got no argument as long as he’s surrounded by guards, but you need to decide if you want us there.”

Kassia poked her head out into the hallway to send the guard off again then closed the door again. “You might want to be there so I don’t do something I regret.” There was no joke in her voice. She’d even leave Brogan behind because she didn’t trust her emotions enough not to trigger the bronze’s protectiveness.

"I think… if we go in there, one of us needs to stay outside. Just in case. I don't trust that anything is a coincidence right now, not until we've caught whoever is trying to hurt us," said N'shen. "To hurt Kassia."

“Okay.” R’tal took a second to think it through. “N’shen, you want to go with her and I’ll run down to check on the search?” Because he didn’t exactly trust himself either with his temper right now.

N'shen nodded. "That sounds good," he agreed. He did not want to say so, but he was glad to be the one with Kassia. He would be worrying even more the whole time if he were not there to see she was OK.

“Let’s go then,” Kassia said. “Brogan, you stay here.”

~Go Kass?~ he said, picking up off of her agitation. He butted her hand.

“Yes, I have to go,” she said.

~Take Brogan~ he said, putting himself between her and the door. ~Brogan keep Kass safe.~

“Not this time, buddy,” she said and pointed to his bed. “I’ll have guards and N’shen. I’ll be safe. I promise.”

Brogan grunted and looked at her a long time before reluctantly moving off.

Re: Trying to be Subtle atten: Tamalack/Kalain


"It's just hard to admit the change in feelings, I think," Kalain said. "We've been friends for so long and I know neither of us want to lose this, but...I can't get rid of how I feel. Lying about it more would just have put a wedge between us." He wished he could touch Tam. Hold him, but not with Sleek worried at the back of his mind.

She got up and pressed her body against his, confused.

Re: If the shoe fits... (Tyne's flits/Kalniq)


The firelizards chattered and hurried, swarming about the boy. And then suddenly, froze like trundlebugs caught in a glow. Wrong. It filtered through the excitement as the image they carried sharpened with the subtle emphasis from Tyne and Bobbin that the image of the boy they tugged and pulled at wasn't quite right. The firelizards chattered amongst each other as though deliberating the information they were being presented with.

But there was no doubt about it. The boy they had found was not the boy they looked for. A green chittered in what seemed an apologetic fashion at Kalniq before the group suddenly jumped back into the air and shot out of the Dining Hall. Their search would continue. And no doubt leave a very baffled family behind as to what in the world had just occurred.

= End =

On Thu, Sep 24, 2020 at 9:02 AM Kouga <hanjikouga@...> wrote:
>>Likely to the bemusement of the patrons and dismay of the Headwoman, a cacophony erupted around the Dining Hall as the cluster of firelizards exploded into presence. Like colourful rocks they descended at speed, dropping over heads by a near miss until they clattered onto a table where a young boy was eating.

Plates were upturned, jugs knocked over. This one fit, this one was
the right shape. A blue and green were grabbing at the boy's hands,
chattering between one another as they inspected Kalniq. He must be
the right one. He looked right! More firelizards appeared, descending
on the table in agitation as they examined the boy. The hair looked
the same. Sort of right. And his face fit in the right way.

Chattering excitedly, the firelizards did their very best to convince
the boy to come with them.<<

Kalniq was in the middle of dinner with his family when it happened.
There were suddenly flits flying around getting to close to peoples'
heads, but the 10 turn old had barely been able to register that
before they were suddenly in his face. He saw a jug of something tip
spilling on his uncle and could only wince a he saw his aunt and
cousin's plates be knocked over. He hadn't ever been scared of a
firelizard before, only whers and only for a bit, but when there were
suddenly so many in his face he found himself suddenly very scared and
wanting Dom. Why had he not been able to bring his twin with him today
to dinner with family! He tugged a bit at the green and blue's grip on
him, but wasn't sure how much he could actually do that without being
hurt. He quickly glanced from Kiloka, to Kinara, to Melody eye wide
and not sure what to do, he knew of course his cousin wouldn't know
what to do, but he was also worried for her at this sudden appearance
and with no Dom here to protect him his courage was somewhat lacking.
"I think they want me to go with them." he offered in a low tone
barely heard over the chattering of the flits themselves. He didn't
know why they wanted him, but they were upset and you had to help an
upset dragonetic right? He thought you did so with clear reluctance he
did allow himself to be moved, and follow after them, but only after
another glance at his family to make sure he wouldn't be alone.

Kiloka had been about to scold the mass of flits for their antics when
suddenly he had had a jug of what he was sure was juice spilled on him
and the flits were converging on his nephew. He was tired, it had been
a few long days, and he would admit his reflexes were not what they
should be so it took several breaths longer then it should for him to
realize his nephew had spoken. By the time he had Kalniq was up and
moving and Kiloka didn't waste time getting up to follow the boy
glancing at Kinara and Melody. He didn't want to leave them, but he
also didn't know what was happening and he wouldn't let his nephew out
of his sight. He quickly reached out to Uncle Brown to pass on the
message to Kin since he didn't have time to talk to her.

From up in their weyr the brown was quick to pass on the requested
message to the Big Female for his queen ((Rara, my queen says he is
going to follow the flits and the hatchling. He did not know if you
would want to come with the other hatchling or come back to us with
Rende and see if our flits can find out what those fits want.)) Uncle
Brown informed Kinara.


Join the Aywas fun -

"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

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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 Watching You {Kaji, Tyne}


Well, you couldn't please everyone. Although Tyne was certainly a little surprised at how offended the firelizard seemed to be. But then they were all individual creatures with their own equally individual quirks. She was returning to what she was doing when the sound of a voice stopped her. "Fair skies to you, Dragonhealer," she offered politely. She couldn't exactly say he was familiar to her because she hadn't exactly spent much time on that side of the Infirmary barring the shadowing she had done with the likes of Ambrelli.

"There's nothing to apologise for, a lot of the firelizards get curious about me. Although I've not encountered one quite so standoffish before. Most of the time it's like fascinated children with a thousand questions." She offered Kaji a wry smile. "Both he and your green are welcome whenever they like. The faire tends to adopt temporary stragglers on a daily basis." To the peculiar white firelizard she gently pressed what she thought of as the "apology note" - a sensation she had felt from the others when Bobbin chided them for being too excitable.

On Sat, Aug 22, 2020 at 3:52 PM Kouga <hanjikouga@...> wrote:
>>The response intrigued her. It was different but that didn't mean it was unwelcome. Normally the firelizards were baffled by her, but she was rarely met with abject hostility. Still watching the flit, Tyne cocked her head as she watched it carefully. Carefully, she filled the mental space between them with a sensation similar to the one Bobbin used to comfort the faire. This new one was welcome in this space, safe, but welcome most of all.

The colour intrigued her. She had never heard of it being possible for
such an extreme discolouration but, in the realm of possibility, she
supposed it was possible. Amazing what factors could have an impact on
these things.<<

Kawaii offered another hiss at the second attempt from the woman
puffing up his chest and spreading his wings just a bit to look
bigger. No he didn't like this why did she keep trying. He only wanted
to see her not talk to her, but she kept trying to talk to him. ~~taky
huamn~~ he offered Kaji when his pet sent feelings asking what was

Kaji wasn't sure what was happening, but he was sure he needed to go
check it out, which luckly he had gotten the last the things he had
been working on stored so he could. It took him a moment to locate
which was Kawaii was and make his way towards his littlest FireMaker,
but he made it as quick as possible. "Kawaii." He called to get the
flit's attention off of Tyne once he realized what was happening.

The little white grumbled clearly displeased but at the appearance of
his Pet moved from his perch on the wall to Kaji's shoulder resettling
himself properly without the attempt to make himself look larger. He
wasn't sulking for being scolded, he /wasn't/, it wasn't /his/ fault
she kept trying to talk to him.

Kaji rolled his eyes at the little white lifting a hand to scratch
under Kawaii's chin before turning his attention to Tyne "I'm sorry
about him. He's too smart for his own good most days and not friendly
to most." he explained before offering her a hand "I'm Kaji one of the
DragonHealers, this is Kawaii, and I think I see Green Star over there
trying to flirt with a bronze, wondered why she had actually left too.
Neither of them usually go far."


Join the Aywas fun -

"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

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: Would you like some help? {Cl'rin, Tyne}


Looking up as the green alighted, Tyne offered a gentle smile and the warm sensation of cheerful greeting was shared with the firelizard. "Hello again, lovely. It's nice to see you. You know where the others are, don't you?" She shared the visual of the large perches built across the back of the room where the faire seemed to  be chattering quietly amongst themselves. But it was the soft concern of the blue that caught her attention and she turned to face Cl'rin properly. Only to blink in surprise.

She remembered his face.

Carefully her thoughts threaded through her memories, knowing which ones to avoid but Myrandith was threaded through the memories where the man was connected. Albeit a much younger, smaller Myrandith. "I remember you." It was a little flat, her brain rearing up and reminding her that this was one of the ones that had been "allied" with Jayden. But she shushed it again. Her eyes scanned him, taking in the small details that confirmed the memories. A blue thread - yes, there was a blue dragon. Small, almost sickly looking. Myrandith hadn't cared for him, no doubt feeding from a much younger Tyne's disdain for blueriders from the hot anger she carried for her blueriding half-brother. "I didn't realise anyone from the class was still in the Weyr. It seemed most of us were scattered to the four winds." Or dead. The blunt fact inserted itself like a heavy stone and tried to squash the common sense that of course some of her own weyrling class would still be within the Weyr. "It's been a long time."

On Sat, Aug 22, 2020 at 4:29 PM Kouga <hanjikouga@...> wrote:
>>Humming happily to herself, Tyne swept the large brush across the floor. The sensation and sound was deeply soothing. That and it was rewarding in itself to see the dust and debris pulled up and the floor left clear in its wake. Instant progress. Well, until the next time she had to sweep it again. The faire was "helping" having been put to task picking up and removing small items of debris such as small rocks, bits of wood and the like and were cheerfully swooping back and forth across the space. Hopefully in the next several days, her doors would be arriving, proper ones, made out of a sturdy wood and made to measure. They would definitely add a good touch.

Her back was to Cl'rin as he spoke and she didn't look up immediately.
"Yes?" Tyne called over her shoulder, stooping with a small pan to
sweep the small pile of dust and rubble into it. <<

Cl'rin wasn't sure if it was easier that she didn't even look up, but
decided that he needed to do this one way or another so he was going
too. "I came to see if you could use any help cleaning or anything
Tyne." Why did he suddenly feel like a boy trying to talk to someone
they liked for the first time? He resisted the urge to grown and just
hoped he didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

Fuzzy on the other hand was not nearly as reserved. She pealed herself
off her person's arm and all but launched herself towards Tyne
~~Hello!~~ she greeted before quickly following with a ~~Hugs!
Cuddles! Attention!~~ she had visited this one before after hearing
about her from some of the other flits and Fuzzy liked Tyne! This one
talked to them!

Gem for his part cuddled closer to his pet's neck offering a
comforting croon to Cl'rin. He knew his pet felt bad about not being
closer to the big ones's clutch mate's person, but he also knew his
pet was doing the right thing in coming to see her now. He offered his
pet feelings of comfort before finally chirping a greeting to Tyne and
chittering a scolding at Fuzzy that she clearly ignored.


Join the Aywas fun -

"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

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)


"Only to the cracks," she confirmed. "Ideally there would be a way to come up with something that could be applied to the entire shell for additional resilience but I think that's going to start interfering with too many other factors and potentially start influencing heat distribution and breathability. But something like this, could in theory provide a necessary reinforcement to prevent the development of additional fissuring and further damage to the original crack damage." She held up a finger, a gesture of "give me a moment" as she rifled in the satchel and pulled out a small board on which had been fixed several pieces of firelizard shell. "As we know, there's an element of natural expansion and contraction in the eggs in reaction to the heat. This is likely due to the semi-flexible state that that the eggs are in when they're first clutched in order to allow the Gold to pass them through the uterine tracts without being crushed by the muscular contractions..." She paused a moment and it was blatantly obvious that the topic was moving her far from the earlier black cloud of worry that had been all but hanging over her head.

"... So I inflicted damage on these egg fragments. They're all from eggs from the same clutch. They were viable at first but it appears that it didn't fully take." She wasn't going to mention the ugly mess of ichor stained yolk she had found inside them when holding glows to them had shown a lack of activity inside. "This was approximately a sevenday after clutching when the shell was beginning to harden. These shells on this side," And she ran a finger down shells on one side that were cracked open and brittle. "Were not treated, whereas these on the other side were. Both were then exposed to the same concentration of controlled heat over another sevenday." The shells on the opposite side by comparison, whilst the lines of cracking were still visible, also visible was a thin and shiny layer of gloss over the cracks. But the cracks themselves, appeared to be sealed. "Naturally the next step is to conduct a similar experiment on live eggs but we're looking at ethical quandaries there as it means willfully inflicting damage on firelizard eggs to see if it recovers with use of the lacquer. Whilst it would be likely possible to find damaged eggs in the wild, it's going to impact the experimental controls by not knowing the background of the firelizard that clutched them with regards to impact from health, general nutrition and so forth..."

Dytha paused, as if suddenly realising she had been talking and talking. She glanced back to Larsin and waited for his thoughts.

On Sun, Sep 27, 2020 at 2:27 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Larsin reached forward to pick up one of the jars, for the moment forgetting about Dytha's flight issues. "A lacquer, you say?" he asked, twirling the jar in his fingers. "Interesting. And the lacquer would only be applied to the cracks, correct?" The eggshells themselves were slightly porous; it was the membrane inside which mostly kept the albumen from leaking out over time. But the shell allowed the foetus to breathe, so it couldn't be fully coated, unless the lacquer itself was also porous enough to let air in and out.

On Tue, Sep 22, 2020 at 6:12 AM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
"He's had his kicks now. I'm sure he'll leave Ponth and me alone." And there was a twinge of hopefulness behind her words that seemed to teeter as if she were trying to convince herself more than Larsin. She knew his appetite had been whetted and that by the next time Ponth was ready to rise, he would be waiting. "I know it wasn't "nothing"," she said with resignation. "But if I let myself coil up with the realities, then I won't be able to fly with her ever again. Or I'll do something that affects her in the sky and she gets hurt because of something I felt. So if I convince her that this was just a bad moment, just something to be forgotten, then she won't be at risk of hurting herself because of something I did." It was a skewed sort of logic but it wasn't hard to see where she had been coming from. Hopefully. "I'm going to try and rig the next one. If he doesn't get a chance at catching again then he can't continue with this... whatever he's doing."

As she spoke she was setting out the jars and opening up the folder she had brought with her. "We've had two clutches in succession where the eggs have received some sort of damage where perhaps early intervention may have prevented further complications." Dytha gestured towards the jars. "I've only tested it on firelizard eggs so far. But I'm playing with a type of lacquer that can seal and hold minor cracks without adversely impacting heat dispersion or allowing further fluid to escape. In theory, it also shouldn't cause any negative response from the gold in response to it either. But that's mostly hypothetical at the moment. Either way, I think I'd like this to be the practical element of my Journeyman's project to go alongside my thesis."

On Fri, Sep 18, 2020 at 3:36 PM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
Larsin's eyes narrowed. "You're right. Rough flights happen. Flights that put your dragon and yourself in jeopardy do not." 

He pursed his lips, trying to think of how to get through to her without making her feel like she was being attacked again.

"I've seen bad flights. And I've seen abusive flights. You are the victim of an abusive flight, not a bad flight. A bad flight happens when it's someone's first time, or the dragons are over-enthusiastic. No. A bad flight doesn't put the green in danger of betweening." And he'd gone to see Ponth. She and Dytha had both been asleep, so he'd assessed Ponth from afar. Puncture wounds. Deep scratches. Even something that looked suspiciously like bruises. Bruises. On a dragon!

"You can play it off like it's nothing. Or you can come clean. But remember--if something happens to you, Ponth is gone. If something happens to Ponth..." He left that hanging.

"Now, what did you bring me?"

On Tue, Sep 15, 2020 at 3:08 PM Nutmeg <nutmeg.witch@...> wrote:
She had begun to step forward, carefully setting the jars down on the desk when Larsin had spoken again and her head snapped up. She could feign ignorance but that would only annoy Larsin. She knew he wasn't an idiot. "Because I didn't want to make a fuss over nothing," she said tiredly. "These things can happen and making something out of means it sticks around and doesn't get moved on from." Confession time. Of sorts. "I haven't been flying with Ponth until recently. That bed rest I was put on a few months back? Was because I hurt myself trying not to fly with Ponth when she rose. It's taken a long time to start doing what I should have been and turning this into something sets all that back again."

Because already she could hear the tempting whispers that next time, next time, she could hide like she had done so many times before.

On Mon, Sep 14, 2020 at 3:01 AM Laurie <Laurie.Lynne@...> wrote:
"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

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!

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!