Fishing For Weyrlings

Xanadu Weyr - Beach


The unerring range of subdued white rises and falls in a multitude of sandy dunes, creating an endless amount of tiny valleys constantly demolished and rebuilt by the frequent arrival or departure of a dragon. Smoothing out as it slopes gently to the edge of the deep blue water, the sand darkens and a shell here and there stands out for children to collect. The beach itself is set along a low cliff - the height lessoning as one heads eastwards, blocking a portion of the beach from direct access.
The wide wide stretch of water opens up to the east, the far distant shore way beyond the horizon and the beach curves ever so slowly round to east and west, distant arms of land embracing the wind-ruffled Caspian Lake. East leads up to the mouth of the Rubicon River, where the protecting cliff is merely an arms length higher then the sand, and beyond that, a winding road leading out of Xanadu's territory. Westwards, the beach narrows as the cliff swings out, leaving a path wide enough for dragons in single file before cutting in to the sheltered cove designated the Weyrling Beach. However, cut in the cliff face to the north are a variety of rough, wide staircases, providing access to the clearing and to the meadow.

A snow-capped mountain of dragon rests curled on the beach, craggy head-knobs and ridges visible beneath the thin layer of snow. At first it seems the brown's rider is not present, but as others near a small fire is visible beyond the brown, short muscular form prodding gently at a roast over the fire, and wrapped in flight leathers against the cold.

Phylicia looks comfortable, wrapped up in her long coat. But then again, the temperature is likely only just below freezing, enough for that snow to stick. Phy's hair has grown slightly longer with the inability over the last few months to see it cut. It doesn't seem like the healer-weyrling is out for any specific purpose today, other than to amuse the dark forest-colored green who is merrily trotting along in the cold shallows, watching the splashes she creates. "You'll be sorry if you keep doing that, if dragons ever catch colds, Faui." The girl calls out, her eyes not bothering to scan the beach for others as of yet.

Mickal has on a light jacket against the brisk winds that come up. It's zipped up all the way and he has hands shoved into pockets as he ambles along towards the beach. His gaze sweeps the area and spies a certain dragon. A smile lightens up his expression and he scampers towards Faraeth. "Bro…Faraeth!" he calls out, pulling a hand from pocket to wave eagerly to the brown.

Lonarith's stride is slow and measured as he treads the line between water and land; one half in water, the other out, it might seem that he's just walking some invisible line slung between the two. R'shed is on the land-side, thankfully; he's bundled up in a jacket with gloves, his now too-shaggy mop of hair hanging almost completely in his eyes. The pair are silent, as they so often are, but it's R'shed that slows when he first spots his fellow weyrling-pair and then … fire? What? He lifts a hand in greeting to Phy, a fleeting, tilted smile offered for her before his gaze turns to those unfamiliar others. Don't mind that the dark blue with him is now staring rather pointedly at those others — or maybe it's just the fire. Either way.

Faraeth's head lifts slowly to stare at Mickal, then blows a spray of snow at the lad. M'nol, though, is oblivious to Mickal at first, his head snapping up at the sound of Phy's voice. His eyes linger on her for a moment, then he blinks, looking away to tend the roast. It was too crowded to really talk to her, but congratulations were in order… when he got around to standing up.

Phylicia lifts a hand, returning R'shed's wave with one of her own, an easy smile on her lips. She pauses in her own slow wanderings to wait up for the bluerider weyrling. "Do you know if dragons /can/ get sick? I know dragonhealers exist, but… isn't that mostly for breaks and the sort?" She asks of the other weyrling, her eyes trailing towards the water again, where Fauikith has taken to standing in water that brushes her belly, one paw poised for the moment an unfortunate fish crosses her path, talons extended as she waits like a statue, the only thing moving being her twitching tail, which rests partially in the shallows, and partially on the beach. The fire is finally noted by the greenrider weyrling, though she makes no immediate move towards it for the moment. She's not particularily cold, with gloved hands now shoved into the pockets of her coat.

Mickal's grin is large enough to split his face in two. He shakes his head as snow covers it from Faraeth. "Hihi! Too cold for swimming." he notes, scooping up a handful of snow to toss playfully at the brown. Leaning a little to the side he spies the fire and the matching rider to the brown. His feet take him that direction. "Warmth!" he says, holding his hands out towards said warmth

It takes R'shed a moment to reply to Phylicia even if his feet inexorably close the distance between them, his eyes hazed as if in the throes of draconic communion. "Oh, uh. I don't … think so?" is ever-so-confidently offered up, with the lad glancing over in Phylicia's direction. "But, uh. At the least, I don't think they'd get sick from cold. Otherwise, they'd be sick all the time from going Between." Pause. "Right?" The lack of certainty is enough to draw the slow-whirling gaze of his bonded back to him to pin him for a moment with that unblinking stare. Some stammered, under-breath-spoken reply is given and Lonarith then turns his attention to Fauikith, deigning to tread out into that water to join her — and watch, of course. A wave is tossed over to M'nol, Faraeth, and Mickal after a moment, but the lad is quick to shove his gloved hand back into his jacket pocket. "He's going to have me read about all that stuff now, you know that?" is muttered, sidelong, to Phylicia.

M'nol chuckles at Mickal, "Enjoy it. Will you watch my roast?" He doesn't really wait for an answer as he turns, making his way carefully towards Phy. Even months later he was still awkward about them. How close was too close? Was a hug in order? Instead of dwelling, he grins, nodding first to R'shed and murmuring, "Bluerider." He'd probably seen the lad's name on a record, but remembering it and putting it with the face was a different issue. He turns to Phy, "Congrats, Phy. I haven't had a chance to say it yet, but she's quite beautiful." That's right, act natural.

Mickal shivers a little. He is only wearing a thin jacket after all. The fire though helps drive the cold back. He gives a nod to the brownrider and goes about watching the roast and ensuring it doesn't burn.

Phylicia takes R'shed's words into consideration before she ends up nodding. "That… sounds right. I don't think I've heard of a dragon having the sniffles." And as Lonarith joins Fauikith in the water, that paw crashes down, creating a huge splash which drenches the chests of both dragonets. But there's no fish in her grasp when the paw comes back up. With an annoyed little rumble, the green poses herself again, looking just about ready to dive into the water this time after a fish. "I'm sorry." Phylicia says to R'shed, barely containing a laugh at the situation. "At least he doesn't drag you out into storms. Faranth help me if there's ever a blizzard here." As M'nol approaches, he gets a careful look for a moment, before once again she smiles. A little softer this time. "Thank you, 'Nol. I'm still.. kind of getting used to her." Three months later. "Nothing is really the same."

"R'shed," is the blueriding weyrling's half-offered introduction, though he's smiling as he offers it up. The lad tips a look to Phylicia, then, and grins a little wider, head shaking. "Guess it could be, uh, worse." Pause. "Somehow. He's, uh. He's looking forward to hunting," a thought that brings a shiver to R'shed of the sort that no cold weather could, "but I almost don't want to ask him why. I'd rather he want me to be in the snow and the storms and stuff." Out in the water Lonarith simply observes, himself transformed into a shadowy statue that verges strangely onto being downright ominous for the duration

M'nol nods again, "Good to meet you, R'shed, and your Lonarith." Sure, now he remembers. Back to Phy, "How is Fauikith progressing? I've been wanting to come see you for a while. But with the restrictions on visitors I haven't been able. I…" He pauses, "Well, is it okay to give you a hug?"

Mickal simply basks in the warmth of the fire, sometimes leaning over to toss a stick in or to adjust the roast so it doesn't cook more on one side than the other. The chatter of the weyrlings is hardly noted by the weyrbrat.

"Maybe he wants to disect a herdbeast before he eats it?" Phylicia offers with a grin and a giggle to R'shed. "He does seem to like… examining things." The young pair in the water continues to be still, just waiting for the next fish who thinks they're just a part of the scenery. M'nol gets a measuring look from her for a moment as she seriously considers his request. "She's coming along fine. Though the silly git is afraid of the dark." Yes. She HAS been sleeping with a glow basket open in the barracks. And there's a certain amount of deflection as she looks over M'nol's shoulder to the child sitting by the fire. "Who's that?"

How they knew the meat was there is perhaps a question that'll never properly be answered, but a trio of chromatic firelizards blip out of Between and land, chittering, near that fire. Or, to be more precise, near Mickal, the keeper-of-fire and maintainer-of-meat. Brown, blue, and green, they all look imploringly up at the youth. Meanwhile, R'shed appears oblivious and just nods a little to M'nol with a mild, "Nice to meet you, too," though he's more or less silent until Phylicia speaks again. "Maybe. I think I'm just afraid that he'll be the kind that wants to collect animal skulls or, uh, something. Keziah mentioned that once. Uh, that another dragon was like that." A wary look is given to Lonarith, his mouth drawn to a side before returning to Phylicia. "And sometimes- I don't know. He's weird. He's just … weird. I keep waking up to the smell of smoke and I really hope that's just, uh, a phase."

M'nol extends a hand to R'shed, suddenly remembering his manners, "M'nol, brown Faraeth's." The explanation of Fauikith's habits draws a smile, "Every dragon is different, but that's a unique trait. I'm sure she'll grow out of it some. Farry stopped trying to chase people off not long after his first flight. It's very freeing for dragons… to fly, that is." He doesn't miss the evasion, but he lets it past. It might be turns before they were ever comfortable with eachother again. Her question has him glancing over his shoulder, then back, "That's Mickal. Ro and I met him the other day. Farry thinks he's part shipfish."

Mickal's head turns this way and that way as the meat sensing lizards pop out of Between around him. Looking from Brown to blue to green he grins at them all. "Still cooking." he informs in a no nonsense tone. "But…" an impish grin appears as he reaches into one of his many pouches hanging at his belt. "I had tibits." he breaks up a meatroll and tosses a peice to each

"I've heard there's a blue out there that speaks like there's blood oozing in your mind." Phylicia says, wondering if it's the same dragon that R'shed is talking about. But it brings a shiver to her form that has nothing to do with the chill. "I may be - have been? - a healer, but that's just freaky." It seems she's still a little confused about her position within the craft for the moment. R'shed's comment about waking to smoke sends another shiver down her spine, and she takes a step away without realizing it. "I'm really not sure where my dreams end and Fauikith's start. They blur together too well." It's been a little while now, since Fauikith has moved, but all of a sudden, her paw strikes out again. There's another big splash, but this time she hold a fish as long as Phylicia's forearm up above the water, letting out a deep bugle (for such a tiny thing) of triumph, her talons sinking into the squiggling fish. She doesn't start towards the fire just yet, though she's starting to think about it, surely. "The moment she learns to fly - and take me with her - I'm sure the Weyr will have a hard time keeping track of us." Which might lead to no small amounts of punishment for the girl. "Faui's clear on her want to fly /now/."

It's the green that claims her due first, warbling merrily up at Mickal for the offering. If she can get away with it, she'll even try to press her nose against his hand for a rubbing. The blue and brown are quick to take what's offered next, though they both give a look of longing to the roast itself. Figures; the girl just wants attention and the boys are too occupied with their stomachs to notice. R'shed's mouth turns into a soundless 'oh' and then he takes the hand, grinning back at the brownrider quickly enough. "Well met, M'nol." There's a tilt of his head in Phy's direction, his nose wrinkling suddenly. "Ma-aybe? I don't know, but it seems like it'd, uh, fit." Shudder. He sniffs the air dubiously when Phylicia takes a slight step away, confusion briefly claiming his features. "Flying- he wants to, but he knows it's not time yet. But, I can feel it, sometimes. His voice, it just runs bone-deep when he talks about how he thinks it'll be up in the air." Lonarith offers no vocalized encouragement for the green's victory, though his gaze does descend to the fish in her talons with disturbing interest.

[DTU/Project] Fauikith senses that Lonarith's satisfaction is a resonant, deep thing — the deep chime of a distant gong that positively vibrates with sublime pleasure and pride.

M'nol's 9 are there as well, watching the meat. So when tidbits are doled out, they take their share, cheeping happily and not letting on that this is their third round of said tidbits. M'no just nods, his mind processing a lot of conversation all at once, "Flying is the most glorious thing you'll ever do with your lifemate besides flights. Unfortunately V'dim will follow you around like a rabid dog once you start flying. No fun for quite a while. Can't even take up passengers for a month or more." He gives Phy a knowing look, but doesn't say what's on his mind, moving on to, "Keep track of your dreams, though. Anything you dream might be passed around to the others. I… learned that one the hard way." He half-grins, somewhere between cheeky and embarrassed, "There's nothing like flying your dragon and flaming aerial targets. You'll both love your first mock threadfall."

Phylicia blinks in her own confusion to R'shed's before she realizes that she had taken a step away, and she gives the other Weyrling an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I have… bad memories associated with smoke." A massive understatement that, but just the mention of it isn't enough to do more than make her a little uneasy. "I've had to scold her several time already, for trying to do more than her wings are ready for. I have to keep reminding her, if she tears something, it'll be even longer before she can fly, if at all." And Fauikith is eyeing that squirming fish almost as intently at Lonarith is. But the green seems to be a bit more audible than the dark blue. With a soft whuff, she holds the fish out to Lonarith, the fish's squirming growing less each moment. As Phy gets that knowing look from M'nol, she merely quirks an eyebrow upwards before a slightly embarrased smile spreads across her lips. "The rest of the weyrlings already have a fair chunk of my … personal doings from /someone's/ desire to talk." And on that stressed word, her head swivels to pin the foresty green with a look, suggesting they've had several talks on that already. Indeed, R'shed would notice (through Lonarith) the green's chattering has reduced in frequency.

[DTU/Project] Lonarith senses that Fauikith's pleasure is like redfruit blossom petals wafting pleasantly on a lazy breeze, leaves rustling faintly in the background, the petals stroking like velvet along his mind. Her actual voice is an echo of her rider's, though much, much hoarser and gravely. « Would you like this one? I can catch another. I think. »

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, it's, uh. It's not pleasant." Awkward? Just a little. Which is why R'shed's going to leave it there, one toe absently scuffing in the dirt until the others speak. "Lonarith doesn't seem too, uh, talkative. At least, not to the others. He's kind of, uh. Secretive. But he gets irritated if I try to talk to him like I'm talking to, uh, you two." Color the boy confused again. Or, better, just dye him that way. He does brighten a little for the mention of the flying and he grins, "I think it'll just be exciting to be /on/ him. In the air and flying, I can't even imagine, you know?" The blue's regard of the fish only intensifies as it continues to writhe towards its last, though he's soon turning his head away to study the water and the fish that swim just below the surface.

Mickal passes out the tidbits he has until he's all out. A lazy smile is given to all his new friends. "Just after my food, you all are." he tells them conversationally. Attention goes back to the roast and after a few minutes he declares it done. "M'nol!" he stands, looking over his shoulder at the trio chatting. "Got anything to put the meat on?"

[DTU/Project] Fauikith senses that Lonarith studies those petals, touching each and letting them spill into some distant and alien void to be consumed by his deeper curiosities. His voice seems to hold no echo of his rider's own, the words themselves manifesting from that strange resonance that might well feel as if it's speaking down to the very bones: «You have earned it, so you should keep it.» Golden and resonant, he continues, «I have learned from you. That learning will be put to use.»

M'nol nods solemnly at Phy's mention of smoke. His issues had come moreso from the flooding that followed, but part of him still blamed the combined event for what had happened between him and the now greenrider. Faraeth turns his head a little to stare a little at the trio, outer lid blinking from time to time, but it isn't his scrutiny that makes M'nol blush, glancing down at the ground, "Uhh… which… exploits has she been sharing?" M'nol may have given up even considering trying for what they once were, but that didn't mean he wanted her green spreading images of /them/ around the weyrlings. He coughs, "You'll, uh, be riding them," he coughs again, "Before you fly. Ground-level formation practice…" Then, thank Faranth for children, Mickal is yelling for him and he turns, "There are some plates in Faraeth's saddlebags. Front pouch." He turns back to R'shed and Phy, "Would you two like some roast? I'm a decent cook."

[DTU/Project] Fauikith and Lonarith sense that Faraeth reach out with a gentle touch of purple silk and a hint of lilac, « How is the hunting, young ones?

"aha!" exclaims Mickal as he finds the items he's looking for. Soon he busies himself with getting the roast off the fire and onto the plate and stuff. Sneakily though he tosses bits out to the various firelizards around him.

Whatever Lonarith said to her, Fauikith whuffs softly again, backing up carefully from the water. Just out of the water, the tiny green dragonet gives herself a shake like a wet canine, sending water flying. Thankfully, far enough away from both the trio and the fire where no one gets drenched, and the fire is unharmed. But then the fish is deposited next to the fire, and she watches it for a moment longer before she beheads it with a sharp talon. No more flopping fish. Phylicia lifts her shoulders in a shrug, looking to R'shed as she starts to make her way over to the fire. Rather than embarassing herself further however, she waves a hand dismissively. "A little of this, quite a bit of that.." As to what 'this' and 'that' is, it's for her and the other weyrlings to know, if they haven't blocked it from their own memories by now. "I'm just thankful it wasn't the whole Weyr she broadcasted to. And Fauikith is no longer interested in that dead fish, which earns a look from Phylicia. "You eat it. You caught it."
There's a rumble that's more felt than heard as Faui picks the fish back up, looking at it again. "When do we get to start all of that? I know they're growing still, but… they can't make us wait until they're fully grown, can they?" Because that would be cruel, cruel torment.

Yes. See, confusion is R'shed's natural state, but he's not one prone to poking or prodding about that kind of thing. A natural conflict of interest is soon at work, with the boy's eyes going hazy while Lonarith, no doubt, is attempting to wrest something or another free. "Lonarith, stop. /Stop/." The words are suddenly blurted out, with R'shed wheeling around to look rather pointedly at the blue — who, for all the world, looks unassuming and innocent of … well, whatever he's being accused of. He's not even looking back, he's oh-so-innocent. Nor are his rider's words meant to stop him from plunging his foretalons in the water to snare a fish; and, if they were, then they're simply not heeded. "Sorry, sorry. He's, ugh. He's curious, now, but he doesn't want anyone to know he's curious." Puzzled? A lot.

[DTU/Project] Fauikith and Faraeth sense that Lonarith's response is a single, bronzed chiming that spans outward contemplatively for a while, with words slowly forming in the aftermath: «The fishing is good.»

M'nol blushes a bit more deeply as he quickly slices the roast Mickal had plated and sends a few slices onto each other plate before passing one each to the other riders. The slice he passes to Faraeth, who gobbles it up quickly, is more a token than anything that could possibly keep the huge brown full, but he croons happily anyway as he munches on the spiced bovine roast. Finally M'nol murmurs, "Oh…" he's trying, and failing miserably, at acting unconcerned about what things about himself might be there, "Lonarith sounds… secretive… some dragons are less open than others, but he'll be willing to share most anything with you as his rider." Faraeth rumbles in a deep draconic chuckle, his mind continuing its gentle reach.

[DTU/Project] Lonarith and Fauikith sense that Faraeth's silken mind reach out further, « Fish are so /small/ though. Nothing like a good bovine or wherry. You will hunt soon. »

Phylicia hardly has time to do anything more than pick up a slice of the bovine before a green head swivels her direction. "What?" The girl asks, obviously not to either of the human companions. And she sighs, handing the plate back to M'nol. Fauikith is already starting back towards the barracks, with nothing obviously said. "I have to go with her…" Nothing else is offered, as with a brief wave, she's trotting off down the beach, catching up.

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