The Sky Has Blues (backscene!)

Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves. The meadow continues with gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes, and eventually those hills grow higher and steeper, ending in a large ridge that provides a fine view of that meadow and the rest of the Weyr, gazing out over the multicolored roofs of the houses and the cliff that holds the caverns.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, and a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing. Trees border the northern side of the meadow, and more of those low, rolling hills can be seen to the northwest. A road passes through the meadow, coming from the east and used by traders and crafters alike. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests or ore from the mountains are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.

Zoom yourselves back by… almost two months, because this is a backscene to the weyrlings' first manned flight!

The skies above Xanadu are gloriously clear, on this warm summer morning - a distinct contrast from more than a sevenday of summer storms that have kept young dragons grounded. Sure, they've been able to take off and fly on their own a little, and C'iel and Meion have both spent some time being trotted around the training grounds in circles and for the occasional impressive leap, but the weyrlingmasters were adamant - no significant flights until the high stormwinds calmed, and certainly no flights with novice riders! Last night's heavy rains tapered off in the wee hours, though, and this morning the skies are cloudless and calm. That's not to say there's no sign of the storms, however. The meadow is still muddy in patches, to be generous - being less generous would require acknowledging that there's enough mud still left that it might be better to reserve the word "patches" for the parts that aren't muddy - and the Weyr itself is looking a little worse for the battering, with craftfolk already out surveying what bits of weatherproofing and fencing need to be mended in their wake. Nothing the Weyr hasn't seen before, of course, and utterly unremarkable - unless you're a weryling stewing with impatience at a first flight delayed!

Ceruadharth and C'iel are lucky for a myriad of circumstances that kept them from breaking their no-fly pact, storm or not. Sometimes the simplest deterrants are 'keeping one busy.' But now that the day has come the pair is right proper giddy. 'Soon' is much better than 'when!' Before that is strapping, and other such measures that have C'iel eager to clambor on and all around his Blue, who seems at most times to have the patience of a saint.

Weyrlings aren't the only ones that appreciate the fact that it's done raining! (At least for now.) Garouth has claimed a rain-washed rock atop the meadow ridge, his brindled wings stretched wide to capture the sunlight and reflect it like some golden-veined gargoyle. For the moment, he's as still as one - but citrine eyes open as others draw near, the dragon perhaps silent but no less aware in his absorption of Rukbat's tardy offerings.

Euclath's attention is spread across a collection of potential distractions - there's the thoroughly-soaked state of the meadow to be investigated, and all these interesting repairs going on. He's learned a little bit about building (or at least, he fancies he has), but in the aftermath of the heavy rains, he can see things like support beams in places where they're rebuilding wind-damaged panels of wall. It's terribly interesting! Meion, on the other hand, is much more focused on the prospect of taking to the skies, and she circles around Euclath, compelling him to keep still as all these straps and buckles and other contrivances get wrapped around, checked, re-checked. "C'mon. You were so interested in flying yesterday, when we couldn't…"

« IT IS ALWAYS MORE EXCITING TO DO SOMETHING WHEN YOU ARE TOLD THAT YOU CANNOT DO IT. » BOOMBOOMBOOM. Yep, that's Leirith, who is actually moving rather slow to keep up with Risali and D'lei's gait (SMOL, PATHETIC HUMANS WITH YOUR DISAPPOINTING LEGS). The Weyrwoman has her arm hooked through one of D'lei's as they approach, her head pressed to his in a quiet, private conversation that looks… almost heated, except that suddenly Risali's laughing and pushing away D'lei's face before turning her attention onto the gathered Weyrlings and their lifemates. One hand comes up in that time-honored, universal silent, 'Hello,' and Leirith breaks away from the leadership. She steps (rudely) over them so that she, instead, can pester BABIES. « LOOK AT THEM, GAROUTH. » That excitement, that giddy joy, that unfiltered pride that acknowledges that this is their progeny as much as they are their own dragons just before she plops herself somewhere right between Ceru and Euclath, tilting her head as she looks between the blues and watches Meion tend to those straps. « FALLING OFF MIDAIR WOULD NOT BE VERY BADASS. » IE: Good job! You got this!

C'iel peers over from where he's.. practically dangling backwards with a strap and Ceru is mercifully not dumping him on the sodden ground. "On the bright side, it's a nice reminder that nature is still leagues more troublesome than our bigger halves." He sighs dramatically Shakes his head a bit. Now that it's all coming together, his mind is SWIMMING with all the things they might do and be! A small tide in thanks against Ceruadharth's mighty shores. When he spies Risali and D'lei he reaches up to return the gesture of greeting! And in his excitement lets go a strap and aaaalmost ends up with a faceful of mud. The slight dip and catch of one of Ceru's massive sails prevents the worst embarrassment. «… is it more.. more… bad.. ass? If they choose to do it deliberately? Because I have heard stories.»

« Sometimes, the excitement may also be survived. » Garouth's here to rain on that parade… though there's more optimism than anything in that negation, the sparkle of soft raindrops that promise growth to come… unless, of course, one drowns instead. Which can also happen, but… that's why the straps are fastened, to help increase the chances of not dying yet! D'lei grins as Risali pushes him away, because this particular argument has definitely been won by… both of them. Garouth does indeed look at those babies, his eyes opening further as his wings give a flick and then settle toward his back as he answers Ceruadharth. « If there is a good reason, and they survive, it is more badass. If they do not have a reason, or they die, it is only bad. »

Meion puts a leg up and over Euclath's back with hardly more climbing than any equestrian would need to employ. She might need to do a little more dragon-scaling, in the fullness of time, but as the hatchlings grow, it's quite clear hers is the smallest. She's arranged her straps accordingly, in a forward-leaned position that has her close against Euclath's back, stretched out with arms to either side of his neck. It's not a standard configuration - at least, not according to any of the weyrlingmasters Meion's talked to - but it does seem to be properly secure. Settled in like that, she seems to be almost hugging Euclath, hardly able to look up and over his head, but securely held against his back, with her feet stretched out back alongside strong wing-muscles. "Can someone check me?" She's self-assured enough to run with a thoroughly non-standard configuration - but she's not foolish. She's still going to get a standard check before she takes to the air for the first time.

Leirith - and Risali - watch that near-hit when C'iel goes timber, and while the goldrider does not remark, Leirith offers a bombastic, « THAT WAS A GOOD CATCH, » to Ceru. And while Risali keeps up that slower stride on their way to weyrlings, Leirith listens to Garouth's input with… a thrum of giddy laughter, a hint of mischief, « THOUGH IT DEPENDS ON YOUR DEFINITION OF REASON. STILL, BADASS OR NO, THE OUTCOME CAN BE JUST BAD. » It's Meion's question about somebody checking her that has Risali letting go of D'lei's arm and giving the Weyrleader a gentle push in her direction, leaning forward to lean, "I feel a little bit more confident in your abilities than mine." Which is not to say that Risali doesn't know how to do it (because she does), but just that D'lei's line of work has always put him in that capacity of responsibility and Risa's has… well… lead her in different directions. "Are you excited?" She asks the party, raising her voice just a little to be heard over the distance that still separates her from weyrlings and dragons.

«Then it must be avoided.» Ceruadharth rumbles at his mum with a small, bemused chuckle. «This one gives me plenty of practice.» C'iel sulks a little, turns, and tightens a proper strap again before nodding. "… He made me promise, no more accident falling before anything more crazy. So." Where were they? Checks and doublechecks and making sure everything is in place. And they have to do this EVERY time? "Uhm. Best give me a once-over, too. I've been practicing but…" Swivel. "Very excited!" «Nervous.» "Nervouscited. This is sort of… the next step, huh."

D'lei? Knowing what he's doing? It's … pretty likely, actually. He nods to Risali - "The soundtrack's on you, though." …or maybe on Leirith, but… close enough! « Fear is wise. Letting it rule you is foolish. » Small animals move amid the forest of Garouth's mind - then freeze, as a hawk's shadow passes overhead - only to move again in its wake, returning to their lives as the danger fades. D'lei grins as he heads over to Euclath, then… "Huh." He sees those straps! They are not, however, straps he's seen before, not really… "Hmm." He pauses, sweeping his gaze across them, then up to Meion stretches out on top and the straps around her. "Let's see, then." And he does! It's rather more of an inspection that ordinary straps might get, because… well, these aren't ordinary straps! Instead of just checking the buckles and tightness, D'lei goes around and pulls from all the angles that he's used to feeling himself pulled as Garouth flies, making sure that there's an appropriate amount of resistance - which is to say, "Nothing feels wobbly? Or is cutting in?"

Meion turns her head to give a grin back toward Risali, with a nod to the question. "Very!" Euclath holds very still as he submits to D'lei's inspection, but he's almost vibrating in his mental space, little quivery threads of excitement all abuzz. "It all feels pretty snug. Euclath isn't feeling anything oversnug, either." She considers a moment, trying to share his perception. "I think maybe we could go a little tighter on that lowest strap, just to be on the safe side.." She nudges at the indicated strap with her toes. There's maybe an inch of play that could be taken up on it - certainly well within the realm of safety, but some caution is appropriate. « We don't want to get separated! »

There's a scrunch of nose, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between teeth as Risali smiles at D'lei, as she turns that smile onto Meion and nods before finally coming up on the group. "This is the easy part," Risali tells them both around a smile - though, perhaps more C'iel, for all that he's nervous. "Ceru is strong and capable - as is Euclath. They weyrlingmasters wouldn't have cleared any of this if they suspected even a fraction of a reason to keep you grounded. All you have to do is trust them, and trust your dragons, and ensure those straps really will keep you in place." Which, with some hesitation, Risali does start doing an inspection on C'iel's straps. "I'm still going to have D'lei double check them, but you two are going to be the best gauge. Does anything feel loose or, alternatively, too tight?" She's checking, of course, but well THERE IS SOMEBODY HERE MUCH BETTER AT THIS (D'LEI).

Ceruadharth feels the hawk's shadow and becomes mindful of his own, though it's a bit of a shift until there's a consciable, almost eerie brightness about his own mind-woods. «Wise, not unwelcome, but hardly pleasant either. What few things should bring it…» There's a huff and a shift, and a little obvious discomfort between the two. "I think the ones by his legs might actually be a bit too forward. And tight." He shakes his head a bit. "Sound…track, though?"

D'lei's just got this interesting assessment to make, he does! He nods to Meion, sliding his fingers along the strap to feel it, then drawing it tighter - checking with a finger under it - and then double-checking the buckle itself, because if something's going to give way… well, it's pretty likely that it'll be the part that's designed to do it sometimes doing it at the wrong time. "If something does start to give," he says as he stands back up and looks to Meion, "You come back to land, but careful." His gaze shifts to Euclath. "Meion can hold on to you long enough to get down safely," or so D'lei hopes, "but not if you jerk around and make her lose her balance." And then, unless it turns out there's something else to be done here, he'll head over and help check out C'iel and Ceruadharth!

Trusting Euclath is the easy part. Meion's been doing that since before he was hatched; no reason to stop now. She keeps a close hold as she listens to advice from Risali and D'lei, nodding as she considers it carefully. "If something goes wrong, the straps are independent, right?" She tugs with each hand, then each leg. "So it's not like suddenly they disappear - I just can't trust one strap or another, and we need to land with the ones we can trust." Euclath radiates his Very Serious Agreement. This is important stuff, and he can't imagine letting Meion down by dropping her. So he stretches and shifts under the straps, doing his own assessment of how secure they feel. If he can wriggle them loose here on the ground, then they're clearly not up to the work of holding them both together in the sky.

"Though, the other straps become significantly less reliable once the first gives way, because they all start taking on more stress. At least, that's what I was told." And all of this from where she's working to try and loosen up those aforementioned straps for Ceruhadarth, looking D'lei's way (and maybe even a little grateful) when she sees him approaching because SHE IS A STRONG, INDEPENDENT WOMAN, but that doesn't mean that D'lei won't have an easier time fussing over straps than she will. "He said these ones feel a little tight." That's for the weyrleader, and then, a little more loudly, "Let us know when they feel comfortable, okay? But you don't want them loose." WHICH MEANS Risali doesn't abandon the task, but TEAMWORK. RIGHT? She can tackle one, D'lei can tackle the other, they totally go this.

Ceru stands patiently while he is fussed over. Some small part of him might ~enjoy~ that much tending, even if it is delaying him from the itch. «We can always come back, fix things right up, and start again,» Ceru agrees. «Ahh… that's a bit better.» The thought of dropping neither occured to either of them! Though they don't exactly have reputations as daredevils. C'iel follows Risa around one side, and D'lei around the other, giving an oh-so-cautious look to Meion before wondering. "No one ever flies without them, right..?"

D'lei gets the 'weeell' face at Meion's question, then nods as Risali gives her answer. "Straps don't just give for no reason. If there's something wrong with one strap, there may be the same thing wrong with the others… and even if there isn't, you've taken the load on the broken one and redistributed it. So now, the rest are under more stress than they're supposed to be." His expression's halfway between grin and grimace. "Use them, but don't trust them." He nods over to Ceruadharth, as Garouth relays it. "Better late than dead." So cheery and encouraging, he is, and he does his checking-over of Ceruadharth's straps. C'iel's question has him look up. "…heh." D'lei glances to Risali, then back to C'iel. "I wouldn't say that." Does he look just a bit like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar? …yes, yes he does. "You can fly without them. It's uncomfortable and dangerous, and if you think you're good enough to do it, you're probably halfway to it only being reckless instead of suicidal."

Euclath listens intently as Meion considers the problems of cascading failure. "Mm. That makes sense. Still, if we're careful after a failure, it sounds like we can try to avoid letting the others fail. And they're not completely necessary; they're just a really good idea. In an emergency, we still have a lot of options for making it to the ground together safely." She stretches her legs and squeezes slightly, nodding to D'lei as she gets herself in position. "We're not going to try any of that out, of course." However confident she might be, she's also well aware that this is her first time flying without someone else arranging all of the important parts for her. Euclath takes a few steps forward, testing the feel of those straps in motion. « I think we're ready. Ceruadharth, what about you and C'iel? »

Risali ducks her head to stifle what is probably laughter at C'iel's question, and then catches D'lei's gaze. She has the good grace to look AFFRONTED with a, "Don't look at me, Dashiel. I always use my straps." NO YOU DON'T RISALI. « NO YOU DO NOT, MINION. » "Yes, but they don't know that, Leirith. Or, didn't. Until you." « THEY DID. THE WHOLE WEYR KNOWS. » SO WHAT if Risali throws herself a little more aggressively into that work? SHE IS JUST WORRIED, OKAY. But once Ceru gives the all clear, Risali is turning her attention momentarily onto her fellow executer of Sometimes Bad Ideas (sup, Dash), and onto the weyrlings. "Do you both have your helmets, and your goggles, and your gloves?" Because listen, it's hard to see, what if you fall (okay, so the helmet won't do much, but it's better than straight impact) or something gets unexpectedly tossed at your head with a nasty gust, and it is REALLY COLD the higher up you go, between or no.

C'iel looks purely blindsided by this response, and while his PURE WELL-MEANING INNOCENCE might evoke something of an uncertain smile, and a nod, there's an unsurprised vibratino of amusement from the blue. «Ah, yes, riders get their straps too.» He moves deftly to 'handle' C'iel a little bith with claw before he 'struggles' free and makes to properly gear himself as well. Riding without straps, sure, but goggles? That'd be madness. "Well. I'm just glad we're doing it together. Sad I haven't finished my cape yet." He stuffs himself in a helmet and puts both hands up. "All safe, all good! Promise." At least until they feel like they've got the hang of it. "What kind of trouble do ~you~ plan on getting into, Mei?" Because what else would they do with being off the leash, eventually. Sooner than he thinks.

D'lei nods to Meion, and smiles to her and C'iel both - not to mention their dragons. There are plenty of hazards to talk about, sure, but… he's not actually worried. Dragonriders have been doing this for centuries, and very few of them succumb to failure, cascading or otherwise, and crash! (And most of those - at least, in these post-Thread days - are a great deal more reckless than either of these bluelings.) "Here it is, then. The moment you've been waiting for… and the first of many!" D'lei steps back, the better to not get beaten up by dirt cast by the beat of draconic wings, and grins to Risali. "It's your twin that does those terrible things, of course. Lisari, we call her… or would, except nobody's ever sure when it's her and when it's you. And… we've never seen you both in the same place, either. Huh." Such mystery. Very mysterious.

Meion has neither helmet nor goggles on yet, but it's a quick moment from that reminder to getting both on. Technically, it gets worse before it gets better, since she takes off her gloves in the process of putting both on - but gloves go back on just as soon as goggles and helmet are secured, and she settles back into position along Euclath's back, holding her body in place with those straps and buckles. "Are we ready to go?" « Are we? » It's a question to Ceruadharth, as Euclath gives the air a few testing wingbeats and crouches back, gathering strength for that first ascent.

"Not all heroes wear capes, C'iel." If Risa's glance cast D'lei-wards gives any indication of who she's thinking about in that particular moment, well… "But they do look arguably badass." And while the weyrlings get themselves in protective gear, Risali moves towards D'lei, to press her shoulder in against his side and bring one finger to her lips around another smile. "Shhhhh. That was supposed to be our secret, D'lei. I don't know who's worse: you, or Leirith." SHOTS FIRED, GLOVES THROWN IN THE DIRT, ETC. ETC. But, as for being ready, Risali looks back to both blueriders, and then gives one nod. "I'd say you're both ready to go. But remember what D'lei said. If anything even feels wrong, you come immediately back to land."

C'iel blushes and hides his gaze. "It's not… I'm not… ah, right." Let the silly thought pass while he moves up. "Not to worry. I'm half decent at keeping a secret!" «Even though they seem to be one of our Weyr's finest exports…» Ceru teases blithley, while holding still and giving a little *Wiggle* for the (comparitively) little rider to position. The first time he did this at a trot he was shaking a little, now he's settling in with a weird sort of calm. Goggles come down and he gives a little nod to Meion. "Ready." And back to Risalei, and their whole big dragon family. «… ready.»

"I think you mean best," D'lei counters, and tucks his arm around Risali's middle. "And…" He grins. "It's her." Leirith, the worstbest dragon of all! But never mind her - for now - because there are two no-longer-babies (they'll always be her babies) that are ready to take their first flaps through the air with their riders! D'lei takes them in, sitting and crouching, wings spread and ready - and Garouth does the same, sitting on his perch to catch sunlight and cast a shadow that stretches out beneath. « This is you. Your ready to have, and your flight to share. » He's here, of course - as is Leirith, as are their riders - but the preparations and inspections have been made, the instructions given. All that remains is to… "Fly well."

Euclath takes a few steps forward, each faster than the last, kicking up a small wake of mud as he starts to run - and then wings and legs all push off together, and he's lifting himself into the clear air as Meion holds tight and watches. The disadvantages of her nontraditional riding posture are quickly apparent - she can't really look in most directions without making her neck ache, and some of the straps make it hard to move her arms much. But Euclath is free to soar, and he climbs quickly, his rider secure-held against him as he rushes upward. Anyone looking from the weyr could be forgiven for wondering which of the greens was rising, as teal Euclath shoots up like he's expecting Ceruadharth to chase him, rider barely visible on his back.

"I refuse to make that call. You're both pretty awful." LEIRITH IS GRATEFUL, THOUGH. She gives up her perch to come join riders, to press a snout in against D'lei in quiet camaraderie of terribaddies and… turns her attention back onto Ceruhadarth and Euclath. Is that pride evident in that thrum of bass and that boom of drums? It is, but she remains low, watching them climb, as Risali tucks in tighter against D'lei and holds her breath without realizing that she's holding her breath because well The odds of somebody failing in a tragic and irreversible way are arguably nil, but that doesn't mean that Risali is any less anxious to ensure they get off of the ground. DON'T WORRY, D'LEI. You will probably only bruise a little from that grip she's suddenly got while she watches the ascent.

In another moment, C'iel would just be… basking in the peculiarity of those interactions. But for those moments to come, between the go-ahead and the flight itself, there could be little else in the world than the rider and dragon pair. As if by some courtesy the bigger-blue waits for his brother to take wing, and then no more. Their joint elation is palpable, when a short bounding start and a wind-rush catches to propel them upwards! Ceruadharth does give in to that chase, although it will take him some time to do a proper fly-by. C'iel hunkers down as much as one can hunker for that ascent, and spread wings finally get to see full glory, catching shadow and sunlight.

D'lei reaches up, scritching along the underside of Leirith's jaw - though he doesn't really look in her direction. Theirs is a silent connection, united by an eternal bond of… well, okay, when you get right down to it, family, but still. He watches, and bruises, and as Euclath takes off he grins wide - gaze following the green-blue as he shoots unhindered towards the skies, shifting back to Ceruadharth just as his wings beat down for the first time as feet leave the ground to take C'iel high, high, higher!

Euclath climbs fast and far, making up for his smaller wingspan with enthusiasm and agility - and then, when he reaches some unmarked pinnacle, he banks hard to one side, starting to spiral out in a slow-gliding descent while his brother catches up, giving Meion a chance to appreciate the view from dragonback. There's the sea, and the rivers that run between it and the larger ocean. Down that way, mountains and the nearby holds and all the other places she's heard little word of while studying to be a rider. All of them are more vivid like this, but harder to distinguish, clear labels lacking when she looks over everything from so great a height.

Risali lets go of her breath, and then she breaks away from D'lei and Leirith both, throwing both hands up in the air as she JUMPS in her enthuse, as she hollars things that probably can't be heard over the howl of wind and probably leave her looking ridiculous as she cheers them on. But she doesn't care; that smile is wide and doesn't show and signs of diminishing soon, as if she's become a physical manifestation of Leirith's constant joy and just can't be dimmed. Pride, and… so many emotions. LOOK AT THE BABIES. LOOK AT THEM FLY. She's even jump-jump-hophophoping back to D'lei and grabbing his arm to jump so much in excitement. "They did it!" Like she hasn't seen this before. But it's never any less exciting. "YOU DID IT!" That's aimed back up to the sky, back up to those who, honestly, probably can't hear her at all.

They did it! We did it. And so another pair of Weyrlings is airborne, the first leg into wreaking untold presence into the world. Blue, like the sky they inhabit, and Ceruadharth gives a *ping* of forewarning before a glorious ROAR. At least only half lost to the wind. The sudden bank, that he makes with a flick and ease, slicing through the air smoothly. Perhaps it would do them to stop pushing *hard* and ease for a moment… yes. If only C'iel had parts to flutter. He eventually loosesn his grip, just enough to peer through the frame of Ceruadharth's horns. The anchoring call of the horizon, the little flier of Ceru's mind hopping to its edges and straining at the horizon is banked only by their chase on Euclath's tail…

Onward! Upward! Into a clear blue sky, bright to welcome them to its expanse. D'lei grins, and he catches Risali's hands as she comes back to him, spinning with her in a round-about so they can see the dragons from both sides - or maybe just share some enthusiasm, as this flight is shared between humans and dragons. "Left the nest and flown away…" he says, and grins. "I think they'll be back, though." Somehow. It's like they have reasons to land, and can't spend all their time on the wing… no matter how tempted they may be to try, in this rush of joy and exploration of the world stretched out like a hyper-realistic map drawn without labels or borders.

Euclath alternates between long sweeps of soaring on those outstretched wings of his, and little playful dives and bursts of speed as the little blue experiments with his own mobility now that he has his companion there with him to see. No need to return to the ground to make sure Meion is watching, this time - she's right here, carried along for the (amazed, excited, eager) ride. The blanket of Euclath's excitement covers mountains, lakes and weyr all together. « We're going to explore all of this! » That'll seem a less exciting prospect when its done as part of sweep flights in a few months' time, but right now, everything is so full of wonder it's hard not to be overawed.

And look at them go! So much majesty; even Leirith is enthralled by the flight, silent though she might be - for now - because even Leirith can be reasonable sometimes (and she doesn't want to distract them and be the reason for one of those utterly rare but no less devastating failings). "I have a feeling we're going to have more trouble keeping them on the ground now, though," Risali whispers. "At least for now." Because she remembers the thrill of that first flight too, the thirst of knowledge, the need to explore, the dire want of an adventure. And while she throws herself into a hug after that shared excitement-spin, right in against D'lei's chest, she turns again with one arm still around his hips, thumb hooking through loops as she jumpjumpjumps against his side and keeps waving. "Faranth, look at them, Dash. They're naturals."

No end to trouble. Because, let's face it, Ceruadharth always looks like he's… compromising with leg-based existance. This, though, feels so and quite right. Enough to sweep away that uncertainty in the rider's heart for a spell and for Ceruadharth to agree wholeheartedly. «Not alone you won't.» Something to be said for independence and the like… but all the same. The sibling does his best to weave a pattern parallel to his brother, close enough for someone ~else~ to probably hear C'iel laughing like a schoolboy. «It is so unbelivably big…» Even for the spanse of those imaginations. It just goes on, and on…

« Yes. » It's less a word, more an echo of the wind beneath wings, the feeling of air that is so clear and yet so supporting. Garouth may be on the ground - for now - but that doesn't mean he can't cast his mind to the blues in the sky, can't feel the way the wind moves. « Not all today, nor even tomorrow… but you will. » For today, well - Garouth can sense more than wind, and if that combination of eyes and mind tell him that young muscles begin to tire, he'll call them back to ground… but while their wings are strong, the winds are theirs to soar! D'lei laughs to Risali. "They've got to come back eventually. We're the ones who have food, down here." A grin. "We'd better hide the picnic baskets, though." Otherwise, they might just keep on flying! "…I'm not surprised, though." He grins. "They are dragons." …as opposed to what? Sheep in dragons' clothing?

Wingtips seem close enough to brush as Euclath flies alongside Ceruadharth and their thoughts brush one another's edges. A proper measuring device could easily note the good and safe clearance between either's wingspans, but there are no meter-sticks up in the sky, and so a poetic sense of flying wing-to-wing will have to suffice. Meion grins over to C'iel, laughing happily and loud enough to be heard back. "Okay, this is better than catching a ride." All her previous flights dragonback have just been downgraded in that sentence - merely rides caught with others who did the flying. Right now, like this, she's flying with Euclath, and the blue pair make a vivid spot in the sky, deep complex blues against the light, bright expanse of clear sky.

"One would hope they'll come back, but didn't Garouth have a hard time coming back to land despite creeping exhaustion?" It's an earnest question. "Because Leirith did. And so did I." There's too much out there to explore, to see, and while Leirith keeps her own vigilant watch over those up in the sky, she leaves most of that stalwart sentinel job to Garouth - who is much, much better at it. She simply enjoys, the whirling blue of eyes a compliment to the sky and the graceful forms of tiny dragons (and their 'mates) in it. Still, Risali smiles up at D'lei, and then squeezes him a little tighter. "One step closer."

One wonders what would happen the day one of these two decide to just… fly and see how it goes. But for now, for Ceru, being ~in the sky~ is enough. Presence will satisfy a gesture of kinship and radiated warmth. C'iel cranes his neck, face almost hidden beneath all that gear but there's a laugh. Higher, lower, turning towards the Weyr and back again. Flit, flap, tilt, and those lovely little freefalls that burst into forward momentum. "Everything is better!" He agrees. "Do you think we should go say hello…?" Because flybys aren't rude, right?

"He came back so the smaller ones would." D'lei smiles, the slightly crooked expression of memories good but also complicated. "Could hardly get them to follow if he didn't lead the way, now could he?" And now? Garouth remains on the ground, following with eyes and mind as his blue children make their own path through the skies, wing by wing (within a reasonable margin) and flying though their world of the skies, and D'lei squeezes Risali to him as he watches with his own eyes and the borrowed ones of dragon.

"We absolutely should!" Meion is only shouting a little to be heard over the rush of wind. With exaggerated courtesy, Euclath banks back and slows, letting Ceruadharth gain on him so that he can follow. « You lead! » It's a playful, eager suggestion - now that Euclath has been chased for a little while, it's time for him to try the chasing! This way, any fly-by greetings will be made in style, one after another, instead of trying to negotiate two near-visits side-by-side.

Coordinated swoops can come later. «Mind your feet! And your wings…» And your, uh, all of you. Ceruadharth would not do anything TOO crazy, not on a first time stunt with someone else in tow. The little dragon dance cloud-side turns back down and there's an almost lazy lap and a circle. "Do dragons do maneuvers? We should ask!" What's allowed, what isn't… well, they'll find out on THIS one when they swoop down sudden, coming low and quick enough (but not too breakneck) to stir up a fair wind. It helps that Risali and D'lei always pick such approachable perches! At least to fliers. And this one is getting a close wing, a sudden gust, and a greeting in what sounds like a quarrel of chirping birds all chattering at once for dragon and lifemates alike before they clear. And when it's past… well, he'll get to lead Euclath on such a merry chase, too.

Risali laughs, shouts cheers that get stolen by the wind and pumps fists at the glorious flight of those beautiful blue babies who have taken to the sky like it's their home and now come back to say hello! And D'lei grins beside her, wise enough to let expression speak for itself instead of fighting to get words out. From Garouth, the rustle of branches in that wind… and then a hawk's cry as he leaps, rising up in the wake of blues with his own burst toward the heavens - less agile than the smaller ones, but more practiced in the maneuvering of his bulk… and more powerful, his wings a greater span linked to broader muscles. Upward he flies, angle of attack a sharp one, and Leirith booms out her approval - « BADASS! » for him, for him, and especially for him as she lumber-leap-flaps into her own flight, ungainly yet powerful and eager to dance because have you heard this beat.

Euclath's enthusiasm is a bright-tangled streamer flowing out behind him - and off to the sides, and out in all directions, really, somehow managing to make every-which-way into a trailing-in-the-wind for him. He lets out a eager cry of response as Garouth and Leirith join the chase, and soon he's rising up after Ceruadharth, flying and chasing in exactly the opposite order as is described in all the best books and lessons about flights of dragons. It's a carnivale flight, led by the blues with a mighty gold at the rear, and the sheer fun of it makes Euclath try something fancy. He tucks one wing, shifts momentum, and Meion's stomach lurches as Euclath learns that he cannot, in fact, do a barrel roll. He rights himself quickly, with only his rider's slightly greenish complexion for long-term effect.

What pure, explosive glee for every dragon to be present up together! Ceruadharth rises as he can, sprightly for a Blue, but eventually losing to those greater, more grown, more experienced wings… and there is energy to be made for, too. Not eager to spend all to weary on one dramatic flourish, but to get to a comfortable height and turn. «Tricks later! Or maybe while yours watches…» While Ceru muses over maneuvers, he seems hesitant to do anything that would risk C'iel being tangled or thrown. The rider giving a sympathetic smile to Meion. "You've got this!" If 'this' is managing to hold onto one's lunch, at least. Dance and beat are appropriate for there seems to be no better purpose than to just BE and move, each turn or flap along to some internal music that is for the first time coming so gloriously alive.

Leirith is more than happy to be chaser instead of chased - « YOU FLY LIKE BADASSES! » she praises ebulliently, and - « YOUR MAMA MUST'VE ATE A CLOUD WHEN YOU WERE EGGS, BECAUSE LOOKIT DEM WINGS GO. » ….that makes no sense, in case you were wondering. None at all, and yet Leirith doesn't care, any more than she cares about those orderings of flights written in however-reputable books. They're flying, all of them, and it is glorious, and she will share her joy about it with anyone in her (impressive) range. The riders of gold and bronze may only be here vicariously, but they're still all here, sharing this moment. Garouth gains a higher vantage point, then tucks his wings in a glide that keeps surveillance-point and tastes the eddies left by other wings. Euclath's attempt at a circular frolic makes a talon twitch, the reaction of a rescue-flying dragon who miiight need to attempt an aerial catch if that roll goes a bit too far and wings find themselves inverted - but Euclath rights himself, and so Garouth won't need to demonstrate his skills at capture, arching his wings again to continue his soared company.

Euclath beats wings with strong strokes that make up for a lack of surface area, and he comes sweeping up into the air-currents that run beneath big bronze sire. He half-glides in that space, close enough that Meion could reach up and touch Garouth if she were feeling suitably adventuresome. (She is not.) Rolls and twists may be a challenge for him, but he's got swoops and dives rather more suitably - he tucks his wings and lets himself build momentum before deploying them again, rising fast with the redirected power of that fall, letting out a bright, eager cry that's likely to set all the birds nearby scattering.

Ceru looks UP at the clouds and ponders this. Is that how it worked? «Being part cloud is the best!» Though clouds are so fluffy… stationary… maybe they SHOULD be sheep for a day. Get in touch with their inner cloud. For a while, as their thoughts drift to more calm and silly things, their course evens out…. for a spell. «Cee wants to know if you get to do tricky maneuvers in your wing!» … which means he probably does too. And those birds? They knew what they were getting into when they roosted near a Weyr. With a quick snap-snap-snap of wing, Ceru bolts for his brother again to give a choral cry.

Fluffy sheep-clouds, against the blue-green sky! « YOU SURE ARE. » The best, that is. Leirith is sure of it, positive of it, joyously replete with it! Garouth arcs wings and extends them as Euclath glides in beneath him, the thrum of turbulence to either side as the small blue fits in that shadow - as might a green, in the moments before a different sort of catch than rescue-work. His thoughts paint the sky, shadows spun like stormcloud-wool into wisps that show the currents of air, the mighty thermals and currents, the still air heavy or warm… a knowledge drawn from his own senses, and from those of others - dragons, firelizards, even those birds whose minds he cannot touch but whose wingbeats as they flee in complaint from the draconic chorus shows him what the air must be that they pass through… all these sources, and the observation and extrapolation of experience to guide him in their gathering. There's more to flight than merely wings, and so he shows this to the blues, that they may see and learn. « Hardest is to fly amid a storm. » The winds, crashing about! The rain - or snow - or hail - stinging at sails and obscuring vision. It may not be aerobatics, but it is most certainly tricky maneuvering. « Steady flight, and precision… these are what is needed. » Garouth flicks his wings closed and swings his body in a curve - something like a dive that tumbles him forward as he falls, until his wings flex and spread again, a snap against the air as they catch him in a gust of adrenaline and glee. « The rest is just fun. » And/or terrifying. Trained stunt dragon, don't try this at home? Or… do, but be careful! And maybe practice normal flying a bit more first.

Euclath harmonizes with Ceru, and while it might not earn a transfer to become the first dragon-harpers of Pern, it's certainly more in-tune than not. The little blue is so enthusiastic it seems as though he might be all smile, radiating his excitement at this first eager, chasing flight as he soars through the skies above the weyr with Ceru and Garouth and Leirith all together, dancing in an excited improvisation with them all. Something seems suitably right about this chasing, and being-chased, and playing this aerial game that he's sure his body was meant for. There's something of that instinctual charge in his excitement, but he's hardly aware enough to distinguish it from the rest of the newness as he takes his most extended flight, carrying his partner and caretaker close with him. He darts from dragon to dragon in the sky, sweeping alongside blue-brother, then curving away to fly just out of reach of Lerith's great gold wings. Garouth's lessons are just another curiosity in a flight full of them, their full importance left to be discovered later, the first time those heavy winds come up, or that stinging rain.

How could they be anything less with such a parentage? And riders swept along for the ride. No, no, they're the best too by virtue. Let's not get TOO many dreams put into Ceraudharth's head before he has the sense to match them, 'lest their next flights take them all the way to the halls. «It ALL is fun! Hard, sometimes, but fun…» Tilt and duck, gold and bronze and blue. «This used to be impossible.» Months ago, and now it's not so impossible at all…

Leirith beam-booms her approval, sun-bright and joyous, and Garouth's shadows reach so very far - as far as the skies themselves! « And now, here we are. » In the possible! « Many possibilities remain. » Leirith breaks in - or at least cheers on - with a gleeful, « REACH THOSE POSSIBLES! » to which Garouth rumbles amusement. « Yes… but not today. » There's got to be something left for tomorrow, after all - and perhaps he's noticed something in the youngsters' flight, or perhaps he simply thinks it's time for some other reason. « We should land again, while your riders still remember what it is to have ground beneath their feet. » …and before wings start to strain and risk pulled muscles or fumbles in the landing. « You will fly again, and further. » But, for now, Garouth angles his own wings to carry him back down toward the slightly-less-damp parts of the meadow - and Leirith follows, because there's this bronze she intends to squeesh and now's her chance. Also because, while she's not exactly a rule-abiding dragon all the time (shocking revelation!) it would be kind of mean to keep flying while those badass blues have to land. So. « TOMORROW, THE WORLD! »

Euclath is disappointed, but he knows better than to try to disobey - especially when either or both of them could use their Senior Dragon Powers to ground him quite effectively. He makes his way groundward with a graceful spiral down. What? No, of course it isn't an excuse to fly just a little longer! It's just a nice graceful way to shed some speed so he can come in for a nice easy landing. And by the time he reaches the ground, the landing is, in fact, easy. Also, muddy, as airborne paws touch down on what looks like a perfectly nice patch of grass until contact is made, and then turns out to be a squelchy mud slick that leaves half his straps in need of cleaning as he settles down onto the land. But he's made it, safe and sound, back to land from his first flight with rider.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License