6/22/2011
11:09 PM
Logfile from Flandynn.
Xanadu Weyr - Weyrling Barracks(#9140RAJs)
A long and roughly oblong cavern, about a third of the space is open, used for classes or chores as required. The rest of the space is filled with couches of varying sizes, all with plenty of space between them. Some couches are obviously intended for the very young weyrlings while the largest ones at the back are for the older weyrlings.
People: Fl'ynn
Dragons: Kagenaith and Uirath
Firelizards: Requiem, Aria, Amaretto, Bloodstone, and Kioku
Other: DragonHealer's Toolbelt, Weyrling Progress Board (WPB), and Dragon Setup
Obvious exits:
Grounds <G>
Fl'ynn has taken up some floor, Kagenaith has taken up even more floor. In fact, there the blue is, sprawled upon his tummy, legs splayed out behind him, tail drawn out further, even his wings just sorta akimbo and unfurled to either side. They sit, face to face (well, one sits and one sprawls), with Fl'ynn looking down quite seriously at the leather tangle that might supposedly be riding straps. Possibly. Awl over here, woolen fluff over there, twine and sinew and just stuff everywhere. Yeah, working on straps.
It would seem after the split of allegiances, Ers'lan had moved to the secluded part of the barracks, in the back more or less. That is where he currently is, having passed out some time prior from the arduous tasks that both man and beast have went through. Zhaoth had finally been allowed to have his first flight, inspected from top to bottom, thus, it was no surprise that the beast was curled up fast asleep, exhausted as much as his rider had been. Only, Lan starts to twist and turn in his cot, tossing about as some nightmare or another haunts his sleep yet again. Most of the weyrlings would be used to it by now and were glad for him to move far off from them. Unlike most times, he merely rouses after a time, pushing himself up in his cot with a hand rubbing his face. Legs shuffle, tossed soon over the edge of the bed as he sighs, hand rubbing his forehead and then pinching the bridge of his nose. Sitting there on the edge, with hands eventually placed on either side of his thighs, his head lifts, blurry dawn blue eyes regarding the mess and tangles of woolen fluff all over. There's a quiet tweak of a smirk on his lips for Fl'ynn's attempts, his rugged voice reaching over toward the bluerider, "Reckon ya used a whole sheep thar…"
Glowlight plays with Fl'ynn's features, adding an age to a typically boyish countenance. Tanned fingers fumble along the floor, pressing against the cool stone 'til he encounters the awl, taking it by the handle. He pauses, glancing up at movement 'til dark eyes find that of the sleep rumpled Ers'lan. "Chafing blows," the teen remarks, as some sort of explanation for all of the wooly fluff. Kagenaith exhales slowly, blowing air from flared purple-tinged nostrils, a clump of that padding propelled away like some kind of tumbleweed. "Well shells, I hadn't heard anyone mention the use of a caprine in such a questionable way since back home. I didn't wake you with my cussing, did I?"
Ers'lan pushes himself up from the cot, stepping over the lump that is Zhaoth's head in the process. The brown doesn't stir, completely dead to the world. Bare foot, Lan pads over toward one of the sinks in the barracks, turning on the taps to splash his face, hands hanging onto the sides of the sink as the water beads down his face. Peering up into the mirror set above the sink, he regards Fl'ynn through the reflection. The latter comment from Fl'ynn has the former-sailor laugh, "Aye, reckon that be the truth…" he finds a clean towel to dab off his face, swinging it around his shoulders as if debating a dip in the lake, even at this hour. "Nah, ya didn't… tis the same old thing…" he absently wanders over toward Fl'ynn and Kagenaith, stepping lightly over a clump of wool that had been blown askew from the rest.
Fl'ynn resettles upon his rump, for the floor is a hard, cold place to be sitting, but a wide open one at that. He stabs the awl through part of the leather, making another hole in a rough line. Dark eyes slide back upwards, lost in the fall of evening's shadows to be but a flint-polished shine. He remains quiet for a long moment, considering in perusal, "Still, hrm? I'm not some old auntie with tales for every thing that ails you, but a haunting like that, for so long… just as vivid?"
Lan takes a seat on the end of a bed near Fl'ynn, likely the bluerider's for all he knows. An absent glance is shot back toward Zhaoth, squinting at the dark mound in the faint light of the barracks. Larger arms cross over his thicker chest, due to the military schooling he's been put through by Zhaoth, as his face turns back toward the action, watching the awl create another hole in the punched line of. "Zhao be helpin. They be gettin better. He be forcin me ta face the reason behind it…" A defensive shrug is lifted, "Nay… narh as vivid as they be once."
There is a soft rasping sound, hide and sail against rock as Kagenaith slowly draws closer his great wings, lavender sails darkening to cloud-shrouded moonlight. Fl'ynn drops the awl, reaching over for come flattened cording and the dull glint of an unpolished brass buckle. "And have you seen that reason?" the blueriders asks, his eyes falling back down to his work upon the straps. Lan should watch out for that sharding cot, the same damn one that Fl'ynn had since candidacy, the one with the wobbly leg that seeming no amount of folded cloth underneath can manage to set to rights.
Considering that Lan was sitting off balance on the cot, the wobble doesn't immediately become an issue, since he isn't moving his position. Observation is the name of the game now, perched there on a borrowed cot, considering the process in which Fl'ynn uses to continue the work on the straps. The question does cause dark lines to shadow along Lan's face as he scowls, the initial reaction to some unseen hinderance. The answer comes with a throaty voice, "Aye… Reckon I lived through the reason." Only then, as he reshifts his weight on the cot, does it give him trouble, the wobble off setting his balance, having to catch himself with a hand back on the mattress, "Ya still have this bloody thing?"
"It has character," is Fl'ynn's rather defensive answer as to his cot's rather dilapidated state. "I figure, sooner or later, someone will rescue me from it, if only out of pity." A glance is cast back over to Lan, "I don't know squat about anything like that, but I expect it'll be with you awhile. While I wouldn't want to relive it time after time, I also wouldn't want to forget it, and I don't expect you ever will." He reaches a hand over to take up some of the padding fluff next, fingers splaying… only to have Kagenaith exhale and there goes another wannabe tumbleweed to places unknown. Blink. "Really?" Questioned to the dragon, and said dragon just breathes again. « I have to breathe. Should I stop? » "If you do, you'll turn blue." Wait… Both dragon and human look at each other for a long moment, and there is a wealth of conversation just in that look.
"Thar be some empty ones…" he responds blandly enough, pointing to the vacated cots in the barracks, a building that once could hold thirty to fifty pairs, but needed to only hold a quarter of that amount. Zhaoth starts to awake at this point, large maw opening in a giant yawn that shows glinting teeth in the warm light of the barracks, talons flexing and stretching out much like a feline's would. Ers'lan unsurprisingly remains vague on what his nightmares stem from, a sore subject if avoiding it was the best method. That or Zhaoth was staring at Lan, in the most challenging way possible, their own words exchanged in that silent way between rider and dragon. Ers'lan rises from where he roosting, while Zhaoth is already testing each wing as he pulls it in furled to his sides, appearing refreshed when rider is not. "Be off to the feedin grounds," is the short explanation given, sharing a small smile for the bond between Fl'ynn and Kagenaith.
There is suddenly an explosion of chatter directed right into Fl'ynn's head, causing the teen to suddenly drop what he is doing and splay hands, palm to dragon as if to placate and shush the creature. "Hoi, wait. Waaaaaaait," he drawls, stretching out the importance of the word. With Kagenaith's literal interpretation of yet another saying, the dragon's sides bloat with an indrawn breath, that is held, and held, and held. Not breathing! Gotta stay blue! Fl'ynn clambers to his feet, head bobbling much like his cot from time to time with a glance to Ers'lan in something of a farewell acknowledgement. But yeah, back to trying to convince his dragon that breathing really is important.