Weyrling Troubles
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Xanadu Weyr - Weyrling Grounds

Cradled in a cup shaped bite out of the mountain, this wide, grassy flat has become home for Xanadu's weyrling dragons. It's set surprisingly high above the level of the beach, visible from the eastern side of the grounds where a long path snakes its way down the hill to the sand dunes below. All other sides to the grounds are bordered by the hard granite cliffs, two entrances clearly visible. One is merely human sized and leads deep into the mountain, to the Caverns. The other is broad and high, the entrance to the Weyrling Barracks.


Rakirikath sprawls on the beach, her limbs splayed and her wings twitchily limp. F'alk sits atop her, smoothing numbweed over and under wing joints with begloved hands and a restless expression.

Cirilia travels down the beach, Tamasth in tow. The blue cocks his head at the green curiously and cautiously approaches. Cirilia's brow raises, though she can assume why the numbweed. Jealousy taints her voice as she asks, "Did you convince her to give it a go?" Behind her, the blue takes a tenative sniff «What /is/ he doing to you?»

"She wanted to go. I just acceded," F'alk clarifies as he makes long circles around the left joint. Rakirikath lifts an eyelid and glitters her eye greenly at Tamasth. « Dampening the pain in my wings. I don't need it, but Weyrlingmaster insists. »

«Pain??» The blue cocks his head further. «Why does it hurrrt. Did you fallllll?» Cirilia mutters, "Maybe she can convince Tamasth" She glares at her lifemate, "She's probably sore because she flew, you big lump. But she'll get better. At least she had the guts to go up."

« I flew with my rider atop, » Rakirikath struts in her voice, as F'alk echoes, "She had the guts to go up with /me/ on her, in fact."

Cirilia's eyes widen, "You flew WITH her? Faulk! They'll have your hide!" Tamasth notes «I woullld go if you woullld join me» Cirila whirls around, "You're not ready. Your wings aren't strong enough, and I'm not going anywhere near your neck until you take a few tries on your own."

"Weyrlingmaster was there. We /said/ we were ready. Of course, now we're getting used as an example of how not to do such an exercise," F'alk says, his voice swaggering despite it all. "It was worth it, though. We /did/ fly." « Coward, » Rakirikath purrs without heat.

Tamasth grunts, much like Cirilia «I am NOT a cowarrrd» To prove this, he opens his wings to their fullest extent and looks to the skies. Now, Cirilia's resolve melts into concern, "And we're going to be used as an example next. Tamasth, we should have the Weyrlingmaster before you try that." «I do not need the Weyrrrlllingmasterrr» he says simply. With a cat-like spring, he launches himself to the air, much to Cirilia's horror.

"He should be ready by now," F'alk says, the very antithesis of concern, even if Rakirikath raises her avian head to toss a glowing glare at Tamasth. « No, you don't » she says as Tamasth rises, her greys a cat smug-soothing. F'alk laughs and raises his head. "It's time!"

Cirilia grasps for F'alk's shoulder, "F'alk! He's going to fall!" Tamasth doesn't seem to agree. He glides easily and looks down at the green, her lifemate and his own lifemate «I willllll not fallllll. I have wings.» his own smugness conveying. As he swivels his head back to look in front of him, his flight falters slightly, and reds swirl across his faceted eyes. "Watch where you're going," the girl calls.

"Why should he fall?" F'alk dismisses this possibility and draws himself away from the grasp, as he also starts to draw himself off his dragon, who is still watching, rapt. "He's large enough to fly. Been large enough." « Yes, watch where you're going, » Rakirikath hisses lightly. « You don't want to look foolish, do you? »

«Definitellly not!» Tamasth agrees, a spark of filigree edging his words. He seems to be testing what he can do aloft, dipping a wingtip to circle shakily before dipping the other to circle in the other direction. Cirilia is a wreck on the ground, though, "His wings haven't been inspected. And the Weyrlingmaster's going to write my Ma. And she'll come and take it out of my hide. He hasn't been cleared!" And she thought F'alk was the anal-retentive one???

« Then fly. Fly well. Show yours that you're able, and not afraid, » Rakirikath says, coming awkward and slow onto her feet as she "speaks." F'alk flicks his gloves off, pure unconcern indeed. "Well? Why haven't they been? You shouldn't be letting your dragon fall behind just because he's antsy." Ah, yes, anal-retentive. In the other direction.

Well, this wasn't nearly as hard as he had thought, but Cirilia's concern can be felt by Tamasth, so he glides slowly to the ground. With a soft thud, his feet hit the ground, and his wings fold against his spine. Cirilia runs to him and throws her arms around his neck. «I am fine» the blue intones. His eyes whirl yellow and green as he looks at Rakirikath, for he seems to be set on impressing her. «I flllew wellllll.»

« You did. But late, » Rakirikath says, imperiously. She begins to walk in a slightly dragging circle around the more purely observational F'alk, who is now rubbing at the back of his bald head in mild confusion.

Tamasth deflates only slightly. Cirilia hasn't yet released the blue. "Yes, you flew well, but you should have waited. You needed to be checked first. We're going to be in so much trouble." «I flllew wellllll. We willllll not be in trrroubllle. Rrrakirrrikath did not get in trrroubllle for flllying with herrrs. You shoullld fllly with me. I am strrrong enough.» Woah there, cowboy.

"What's a little trouble?" F'alk says with that uncharacteristic devil-may-care, although his expression is still faintly confused. Rakirikath continues to pace.

Cirilia glares at F'alk, "What's a little trouble? You're lucky. They just let you off with numbweed salve and being made an example of. They're write my Ma. They'll tell her I'm ruining the dragon they trusted me with, and she'll come." She shudders, odd for someone like Cirilia to be afraid of anyone. «I willllll prrrotect you. She willllll not hurrrt you.» Tamasth's eyes whirl the colors of concern, his triumph forgotten.

"Cirilia — I didn't just mount my dragon and go," F'alk says, his voice explanatory and flat. "The weyrlingmaster was right here. He told me I could. If they're letting me fly atop her, and she a mere green," and here his flat voice goes sarcastic, "unless Tamasth has a frail chest and weak wings, I don't think you'll be torn apart because he finally flew."

Cirilia calms, but only slightly. She glances at Tamasth's form then looks at F'alk. Of all the things he's said, the one that made it through her panic echoes on her lips, "A mere green?" The blue's whirling regard begins to slow and deepen to more a green. He looks at his chest then noses a wing. A glance to Rakirikath «I do not have a frailll chest, do I?»

"Mere in size, in general commonality," F'alk dismisses. "I use the term with some irony." He scratches his chest with the pads of his fingers as Rakirikath pauses in her pacing. « No. But perhaps you see weakness in yourself which isn't there. »

«I wanted to be cerrrtain that no one elllse woullld failll inspection.» Tamasth explains. «It woullld be a shame if one werrre llleft behind.» Cirilia shakily takes a seat on the ground. She shakes her head in bewilderment, "I can't believe he did that."

« You're the one left behind. No more excuses, » a near whipcrack, a near order. And F'alk just laughs. "I'm glad he did. You're too afraid for him. Not that I have any idea what we're training toward other than being the fastest transportation on Pern, but you can't keep him walking forever."

Cirilia looks at F'alk curiously. "What happened to you? You're… relaxed," she notes. The blue cocks his head at the green. «I willllll not be llleft behind. I willllll finish beforrre you.»

F'alk raises his fist and lightly taps the side of his skull with his knuckles. "I'm not sure /relaxed/ is the word," he says. Rakirikath resumes pacing, her steps unusually heavy. « I don't think so, Tamasth. »

Cirilia watches the gesture with curiousity. She glances at the green for a moment. "Have you been tasting the numbweed, F'alk?" she asks. Tamasth's eyes narrow as he looks at Rakirikath «I willllll fllly cirrrcllles arrround YOU, dearrr lllady. And outhunt. And out…» he looks at Cirilia «What else do we do?» "Transport and emergency," Cirilia sighs. «Yes! I willllll out-trrransporrrt and securrrity!» Such resolve coming from the formerly cowardly blue.

"Nng. Why do I bother." F'alk drops his hand and shrugs. Rakirikath lets out a light hiss and « You will not. You will be waiting for permission, or for someone else to do it first. You are afraid, » she announces.

«I am not afrrraid!» Tamasth insists, gold flecking and turning red in his protest against cowardice. «And YOU willllll not be afrrraid forrr me!» Cirilia stares at Tamasth in shock. She clears her throat, "No one ever told me about that." She shakes her head. The older Tamasth gets, the more she realizes that her mother left some BIG holes in the things she should know about dragons.

"About what?" F'alk asks, with a hint of his old sullen challenge. Rakirikath stands straight, head low and out, hissing. « Then /prove/ it. Prove you're not afraid. This flight you took today was a start, but only a start. » Her mindvoice is a slow, pressing red. « You must be strong and brave. »

Cirilia nods at Tamasth, who glares at the green with a deep red riding his faceted eyes, "That. He ordered me not to be afraid for him. Can they do that? Order their 'mates?" The blue's thoughts are filled with anger, and one may get the impression of a wild feline backed into the corner of a hold «What must I do to prrrove it to you?»

"What? Tamasth hasn't ever told you what to do before?" F'alk is almost, well, aghast at this. He scrubs the back of his head. And if Tamasth is backed into a corner, Rakirikath is a great hunch winged presence, boring sharp-eyed and assured of her supremacy. « Keep up » at a beak-clack.

«I am keeping pace» Tamasth snorts softly. Cirilia shakes her head, "Not that venhemently. He's usually much more agreeable." She glanes at the green, "Then again, he has something to prove right now. I guess that's the difference."

« A pace behind. Keep up. Let me see you keep up. » Clack, clack, roiled reds. F'alk snorts. "Ah, yes. The love of a man for a woman."

Cirilia frowns only a bit, "Or the lust of one." «I willllll keep up and surrrpass.» the blue comments firmly. His normal purr rolls like thunder, each wave crested with red before deepening to black. She stands up and hefts a sigh, "Well, if his wings don't fall off, we should be fine. Where'd you find the numbweed?" A pause, eyes on the blue who is now puffing his chest out in self-importance. "Just in case."

"Whatever. All one to me. All theoretical." F'alk sketches theory in the air. « Show me, » Rakirikath booms and disconnects. "Numbweed's in the infirmary — at least, that's where I got it."

«We must fllly togetherrr» Tamasth states clearly to Cirilia, letting Rakirikath hear the conversation. «It willllll be shorrrt. And Rrrakirrrikath's knows wherrre the numbweed is if I need it.» The color drains from Cirilia's face. "But," she looks at F'alk pleedingly, "the Weyrlingmaster!"

"What about him?" F'alk's eyebrows raise.

Cirilia tries to protest, "What if he finds out.. our hide.." «You willllll not be afrrraid for me.» Tamasth states clearly. «Now mount!» Numbly, Cirilia goes to Tamasth's side. She had his straps on today, just to show Denna how nice they looked against his pale hide. Now, she wishes she had forgotten to tack him up.

"You're letting him order you around," F'alk warns, suddenly taking a step forward. Apparently, he's two minutes slow of the loop. "You /can/ say n—" Rakirikath coughs low in her throat and F'alk cuts off, laughing. "Faranth."

Cirilia glances at F'alk. She was so taken aback by the blue ordering her that she wasn't even paying attention. She glares at the green, "What have you been filling his mind with this time?" To the blue, "You already flew today. Unless you want to be grounded for sevendays, we're staying on the ground." To F'alk, she grumbles, "If it were just one of them.. but they feed off of each other." The blue grumbles in turn «I cannot prrrove it if she does not compllly.»

"What do you think she's been filling his mind with?" F'alk says, as his voice calms away with laughter. "She does as she thinks fit. She doesn't understand if it's not what anyone else thinks fit." Rakirikath's voice returns, low, grey-blue, soothing. « Wait until the Weyrlingmaster is there. She'll have to comply then, if she asks and he says yes. »

«The Weyrrrlllingmasterrr is surrre to lllet us. I am strrrong. She is brrrave… most of the time. We willllll fllly togetherrr.» Tamasth replies, the purr returning to its gentle tone. Cirilia huffs, "They all speak as they see fit. He can't help but state the truth. She can't help but goad him into" she breaks off "We're going to do WHAT when the Weyrlingmaster gets back?" She sighs heavily. "At least I won't have to try to convince him into manned flights now."

« Good. Good. » Rakirikath withdraws again with a whiff of breeze. F'alk smiles crookedly. "See? It's all to the good. She's always right."

Cirilia shrugs and grumbles, "I guess I should be grateful she got him to stop worrying so much." «It was you who was afrrraid» he replies. «You stillllll arrre.» "Terrible things happen to dragons who move too quickly and without supervision, Tamasth. That's why I'm afraid. Ma lost one between once. I'll not lose you."

"He's not moving too quickly," F'alk says in final reassurance. "Don't worr— … Rakirikath is, indeed, all about dispelling worry. Oh, how many ones I've slowly lost hold of."

Cirilia shrugs. She looks at Tamasth, "Well.. we need to make sure those wings are gleaming if the Weyrlingmaster is going to let us fly together." To F'alk, she offers a small smile, "Perhaps I'll lose a hold of some of my own one day."

"Heh. It's a little scary," F'alk warns, and pivots a brisk pivot toward the green.

Cirilia nods slowly in agreement. "Aye," is her simple reply. She and Tamasth head off towards the barracks, the blue muttering «Cowarrd, indeed.»

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