Close Encounters

Xanadu Weyr - Meadow Ridge

The meadow continues its gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes. Each hill seems to grow a bit higher, a bit steeper, as eventually, the meadow works up to a large ridge, the top flattening out at its new elevation.

From the top of the ridge, the view is certainly something to be admired - higher than the majority of the trees, one can look out over the rest of Xanadu Weyr proper. The houses in the lower meadow - each roof a different color - and the clock tower peeking upwards from the its forest surroundings are all visible, as is the cliff that houses the Weyr Caverns themselves. And yet, the ridge also holds an amazing view of the night sky - horizon to horizon - unaffected by the light pollution of the more heavily traveled regions.

Settled upon the ridge is a rather distinctive looking building - nearing three stories tall, circular grey walls have carefully been erected, and a large dome is settled upon this solid foundation. Large panels make up the roof, aside from one section which remains open, and from which the telescope the struction houses peeks out. Sitting adjacent to the tower is a long, low building, meant to serve as offices, record rooms and dorms for those who man the observatory, as well as providing a handy platform for those who seek to use smaller, hand-held 'scopes.

No exaggeration: Desri is /lost/. One would think that the gradual upwards slope of the ground might have clued her into the fact that she was going the wrong way, but no. There's a building up there, see. Surely that is an outpost of civilization. But the Istan nanny has so very far to go. She's made it halfway up the ridge and has now decided to take a breather, collapsing into the high grasses and leaning back on her hands while she fights to regain her breath. The morning winds on, clear and temperate, softened by a light breeze; if winds had a sense of humor, this one would surely be snickering as it ruffles Desri's hair, the grass and the clouds scudding so high above both. It isn't a bad place to collapse, really.

…or it would be, if not for clumsy weyrling dragons. The agility of greens is a marvellous thing, and the just-flighted celadon pretty manages to /not/ skim Desri with her wings as she and a few other weyrlings fly in formation over the ridge. It's a close thing, though, and she flies off bugling what's probably an apology. Their leader, astride a small, dark blue dragon, shouts an order and they land further down the meadow, while the rider circles back. This time, it is with decided purposefulness that the dragon approaches, landing a 'length or two away and allowing his rider to dismount. R'iahn's expression is torn between exasperation and worry as he heads towards Desri, a hand shading his eyes. "You alright, there?" The 'rider calls, squinting and crossing his arms over his chest.

This morning, as most of her mornings have been over the past many months, has Amelia exercising runners along the meadow ridge. Unlike most mornings, today she rides her favorite mare, a dappled gray of mixed lineage. They've been trotting along the crest of the ridge, and had just begin to make their way downhill when the weyrlings flew overhead. The mare, being the stoic sort, merely stops still and watches with some nervousness. After they've passed, Amelia urges her to continue down the hill and near the time R'iahn reaches Desri, Amie recognizes the Istan. "Desri?" she calls, "What're you doing all the way out here?"

Yes, Xanadu has been an adventure and this isn't the first time Desri's succeeded in embarrassing herself in front of witnesses. This time, it's due to exclaiming, "Gleep!" and curling like a pillbug when she's buffeted by unexpected winds. The first the formation might have missed but she's only just uncurling from the second by the time R'iahn approaches and someone calls out her name. The Istan ends up slapping on what she hopes is a genial smile, behaving as if her face hadn't just turned several shades darker. "I'm fine," she assures the bluerider as she scrambles to her feet. The brushing off she performs then is more from nerves than necessity. "That wasn't nearly as close as I'm sure it looked, really…ah…oh, hi Amelia." The smile grows broader, though it narrows her eyes into a near-wince. "I was…exploring?"

R'iahn gives Amelia and her mare a long, pursed-lipped look, then glances towards the weyrlings making their way back Weyr-ward on foot. Jaesriuth lounges in monarch-ly repose, arching his neck and peering at the grouping with amusement. "Jae." Is Riah's warning to the dragon, as he peers at the runner, then huffs, turning to amble a ways down the hill. "Good morning." Both young ladies get eventually, as the bluerider eyes them warily. "Good. Sorry about that — second day flying. They're not allowed to fly high. It was close enough." The explanation is muttered vaguely, the man's expression pained. "Exploring. Er." A beat, and he shakes his head, huffing what's either a laugh or a groan. "Well. I'm R'iahn."

Once the mare is close to the other two, Amelia swings out of the saddle and, reins in hand, she walks near enough to chat comfortably. "Exploring? I love doing that! Have you seen the gardens? Though they're much betterin the springtime and summer than they are now." Amie grins a little, then nods toward R'iahn. "Hi… R'iahn, is it? Is my mom teaching with you today?" A moment later, she thinks to clarify, "Kirilla, I mean. And Pheriannath. And you don't need to send your lifemate away- Stormy's rarely ever scared of dragons, she's been trained not to be." The mare, proof of the statement, is standing quietly, nibbling on the grasses where Desri had just been curled up.

That he began with exasperation and ended with laughter (or a groan, really, it's all the same) leaves Desri regarding R'iahn with a more polite version of the same emotion. Mannerly caution? Somehow the nanny manages it. A second smile is attempted, this one slightly less flustered. It helps that Amelia is quick with the lubrication of less awkward chatter. "No harm done," she tells the rider, "Really. I'm sure she'll know better next time…it's nice to meet you. I'm Desri." Except that's already been pointed out, and she's left to shift awkwardly, clearing her throat while dipping her head to Amelia. "I haven't found those yet, no. I was just…out walking and looked up, and I wanted to see what that was." The observation tower is indicated with a broad gesture to complete the lie before she returns to picking grass-stalks out of her braids. Stormy, the zen mare, is given much the same look she'd given the dark blue who's just lumbered off; mingled caution and the same clinical admiration one might turn on a fine statue.

"I saw her earlier — she had the other group of 'em, think she was giving the flight lecture." R'iahn cracks a smile at this, glancing back towards the Weyr with a roll of his eyes. Then his eyes flick to Jaesriuth, and he snorts. "Ah, Jae thinks all of 'em should be like the one I own, likes to bring it flowers." His eyes might roll out of their sockets if he keeps it up, as they turn towards Desri. Eyebrows make a jaunt upwards and he's huffing another vague laugh. "I should hope so. Next time she might hurt somebody." This gets a wince, and he rubs at a temple for a moment, eyes closing briefly. The observatory is eyed after a moment, and the man's face clears a little. Lie or not, he nods towards it. "Telescope. My weyrmate works there. Starcrafters and all." So descriptive, R'iahn. Not at /all/ socially awkward, honestly. At least he's not shouting.

"Well, do check those out. And well, from here you can see the clocktower in the forest- it's really pretty down there." Amelia grins merrily at Desri, obviously ready to go on and on about the pretty things around the weyr. The exhilaration of riding always leaves her happy, and being on her favorite mare doubly so. But R'iahn's answer has her attention back on the rider, and she nods. "Oh well. I'm sure I'll see her later anyway. Gotta get a ride to the Hall when she's free." Then Amie squints a little, expression thoughtful. "Yours? Which one of them is yours? Is it the bay one? I know someone on the weyrling staff owns him."

"Oh?" Awkward and undescriptive appear to be the way to snare Desri's interest, possibly because she fits so well into those categories herself. That or it's a far better subject of conversation than the prospect of being brained by a careless weyrling's spar bone. She cranes her neck to get a better look at the building, the same building she hadn't really been interested in before. "I'll, ah…the gardens might be a better place to poke around then, yes. And the clocktower." She mouths the word with a tourist's grace but keeps her smile firmly settled, at least. There may even be a glint of amusement in the glance that slides towards the absent blue. "Flowers, really. Does that actually…" But here Desri trails off, not wishing to preempt Amelia's question even as she looks at R'iahn and awaits an answer.

R'iahn peers towards the forest curiously, then nods, absently kicking a clod of dirt down the ridge. "She'll probably be done, soon. Doesn't take long, that lecture. Might want to avoid the empty weyrs the rest of the day, though." …he's socially non-awkward and politically correct, too! We have a winner, here. And he doesn't even crack a smirk at that. "We keep ours at our weyr, I got one with a big ole' yard and she's a tiny little thing. Fat, black and white, eats anything she sees." He snorts, then eyes Desri. "Aye. Watch stars and whatnot from there. Used to from the Yokohama. In /space/." This is muttered with a shudder, and he's crossing his arms over his chest once more. As for the garden, he only shrugs, squinting vaguely in that direction once more. "Does it actually? Hm?"

"Right, maybe I'll go find her then." Amelia smiles a little, then about his runner, "Oh! Not in the stable. Right then." Amelia nods in understanding and reaches over to scratch Stormy's neck. "I'd like to hae enough space for that someday." Stormy whickers a little, enjoying the scratches, and Amelia listens to them chat about the stars and tower and shrugs. "Well… it was nice seeing you again, Desri. R'iahn. I'd better get Stormy put away so I can out to the Hall once Mom's done teaching."

It doesn't take a brilliant mind to get at what R'iahn is implying, and the threat of amusement becomes a full-fledged chuckle. Or it would have, if Desri doesn't ruthlessly cut off that sound by tucking her chin down into her throat. "Does it actually work. The, ah, dragon bringing flowers to the…runner." It was funnier when the thought first sprang into mind. She dismisses the need for an answer by opening her mouth to ask another question…only to have Amelia effectively end further inquiry on the gardens by /leaving/. She watches the other girl go and then slowly shifts her gaze back to the bluerider. Two awkward people and no more chatterbox. This should be interesting. "Ah…you don't like space?" She winces as soon as the words have left her lips. To her ears, that sounded even worse than the flower question. "I mean. I'm not a crafter but star-watching was…the beaches in Ista, you get a good. View. I'm sorry, I'm not good with people. Grown people."

R'iahn makes a vague noise that could either be assent or dissent — honestly, it's not entirely evident. "Just takes a bit of work to work it out." Well, you know, if you're a rider. "…a turn and a half's work, sometimes." After a beat, but he shrugs, then lifts a hand to wave off the runner-rider. "'Bye." Might as well be a grunt, before he's eyeing Desri for her strangled almost-chuckle. For a moment, the rider looks like he might like to ask as to her health, but then the question gets a faint smirk. "Does, until the fat brat eats 'em. Jae sulks for hours." He shrugs and snorts, glancing up as the dragon wanders back of his own voliton. Far more gregarious than his rider, Jaesriuth makes a happy chuffing noise and peers at Desri, fanning his wings handsomely. "Ham." The man grumbles, and Jae preens a little. "Space," Riah chews on the word, spits it out like it might be a curse. "Is dangerous. Flying around above Pern in little more than a tin can…" Here, he shudders, glancing towards the telescope. "Watching 'em's one thing. I — she — O'rly…knows all the names. Could tell you." …like that has anything at all to do with anything. Oh, bless him. "No. Don't worry. I'm — told I'm not the most…personable." Ha. Lies! Coughcough.

While we're blessing things, let's also extend some to the blue for his exquisite sense of timing. Desri might well have strangled on anxiety and embarrassment for having blurted out what she did, but for Jaesriuth arriving to provide a distraction. "Handsome," she says to counter his rider's grumbling, fond though it no doubt is. "I don't think I've met a blue as dark as you," she adds for good measure. The preening, the wing-fanning, these are prompts that every wise Weyr resident must recognize. Apparently her variety of awkward doesn't extend to dragons. She can only dawdle for so long before having to look back to the human half of that pair. At least R'iahn's explanation inspires a knowing sympathy; she too is all about stressing over situations she may never find herself in. It is a kind lie offered when she says, "Oh no, you've been very nice. You didn't have to come check on me when the…when she flew…ah. Yes. It's all right. I'm happy to meet you anyway, D'son said I should get out and meet more people."

That's Jaesriuth — exquisite. Riiight. The attention-fishing blue makes happy noises that are /obviously/ agreement, then bends down to swiftly pluck a scraggly-looking weed. It /might/ have once been some sort of flower, but mostly, it's crushed — and presented to Desri as if it might be some great treasure. R'iahn looks like he might like to either dig a hole and bury himself, laugh, or maybe just run away, for his part, closing his eyes and muttering pained-ly. "He says." A beat, a breath. "He says you're pretty, for a human. The prettiest he's seen today. Outside of 'mine'." He doesn't /quite/ facepalm, but there's definitely a face-scrubbing with both hands, as he sighs. Jae just preens some more. "You can never be too careful." This is grumbled quietly, after a long and almost certainly awkward pause. "She says she's very sorry, by the way." Another long pause, and he huffs, nods, smirking just a bit. "Funny, they tell me the same thing. You're from Ista, then?" The last might be just a /bit/ desperate, a straw grabbed vaguely. "My son was fostered there for a while. Got friends there. It's…nice."

It's a safe bet from Desri's reaction, which involves both staring and having the tip of her ears turn as pink as her face, that this may well be the first time a dragon's turned on the charm in her direction. This just isn't covered in the Harpers' etiquette classes. She opens her mouth, flails awkwardly upon realizing she has no idea of what to say and finally settles on very carefully accepting the offering. The crumpled vegetation is cradled in her hand; she's doing her best to try to pretend there isn't a clump of crumbly dirt hanging off of the end of the torn root system. "Thank you, Jaesruith. That…is the sweetest compliment I've had in months," she eventually says, after a long, long, long silence. Let's discuss Ista now, yes, please and thank you. "It is nice, isn't it? This is my first time away from the Weyr. I mean, except for short trips. I, ah…didn't get out of the nurseries much." Oh, how it shows. "It's…different here. Everything is so…spread out."

For once, R'iahn /grins/, and oh, it's just mean. Trying to mask it and his own snicker-turned-cough, he turns to glare at the dragon. Jaesriuth just watches the human with bright fascination, warbling brightly when she eventually speaks up. Yes, he knows he's good. "He," Riah clears his throat and tames down his smirk into a more friendly smile — /almost/ sympathetic. "Says it's not a compliment if it's true." Only slightly pained goes his expression, as he rolls his eyes and snorts. "Ignore him. He's a pain in the ass." As to Ista, the man nods, arms crossing over his chest once more as he absently kicks another clod of dirt downhill. Watching it go, he eventually peers back up, nodding. "Xanadu is…unique. Yeah. Nice here, though, I guess. Ista's more…stormy. Terrible to clean up after 'em, I imagine." Here, his lips curl into a faint grimace, before he's squinting towards Desri thoughtfully. "Did you say you were a nanny? I've got three in the nurseries now and then."

The grin is every bit as caution-inspiring as the expression he'd been wearing when approaching her for the first time. Desri blinks slowly, at something of a loss for how to decipher all of this. Clutching the weeds tightly is probably not the best way to start; they scrunch in her hand and a fair sized clump of dirt falls to bounce against her shirt before plummeting towards the ground. "He…you…have a way with words. Thank you, Jaesruith. It's a pleasure to meet you as well." She steals a glance at R'iahn. Ignore him? Easy for the rider to say. "Not so terrible, with everyone chipping in…the little ones like it anyway, it's almost a holiday after spending that time inside waiting out every storm. Ah…yes. I mean, I was. There. I may help here too, if they'll have me. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't, children are…they like their routines, familiar faces, and I've only been here a couple of days." She's babbling and realizes it; her bottom lip ends up caught briefly between her teeth. "How old are they?"

R'iahn huffs a vague chuckle, absently swatting at the dragon's wiggly wing as it nearly knocks him over. Jae turns to peer innocently at his rider, then flops into a boneless sprawl, wiggling like an overgrown canine until he's finally comfortable. "He's afraid of my weyrmate's dragon snapping if he tries to charm any /dragons/." The man seems to think that might be comforting in some way. He's probably wrong. Jae huffs, shooting his rider a venomous look, and said rider smirks. "You are too." He snickers, then winces, glancing sidelong along the ridge. It's another long, awkward pause before he speaks again, adressing the ground. "Ah. Sure. Yeah, not so bad. I guess." Right — that should clear everything up. Of course! Thankfully, the next topic is more familiar and comfortable to the man, and he smiles a little, nodding. "Aye, that's the truth. Still, they could always use more help, I'd imagine. Lots of kids, this place has. Out the ears." He flaps a hand vaguely and snorts, likely not realizing his /own/ rambling. "Five and…five months. Shells."

Rylavi arrives from the Forest
Rylavi has arrived.

Late morning, and it's pleasant enough. Clear skies, no mud and a meadow full of grass that's only slightly crunchy. A deep midnight blue dragon is sprawled upon the meadow ground, about halfway up the ridge towards the observation tower. He appears to be gleefully harassing the man who can be presumed as his rider, R'iahn, while a young woman stands nearby looking at the two with befuddled bemusement. Desri is clutching a scraggly clump of weeds, their roots still attached and very dirty. "That's not a bad thing. My mother used to say a lot of children meant the Weyr was getting along well. Its people," the Istan says, the ghost of a smile flickering there and gone over her lips. "It sounds as if you have your hands full, if you haven't fostered them out. Five is a good age. Five months too."

Late morning brings a small line of runner stock plodding up the hill. Three big drafts - one black mare and two bay geldings - follow placidly behind a small blonde teenager. With hair cropped short and gangly limbs all skinny and bony, it looks to be a young lad. The slightly odd parade stops within a fair distance of the blue, though the drafts seem incredibly less than bothered by his presence. "Black Rock's duties to Xanadu and her queens," the youth says with the stilted cadence of someone who hasn't had to use the traditional greeting very often at all. "I've three heavy beasts I'm supposed to be bringing the stablemaster here. Would either of you know where I'm to find him?"

Jaesriuth is good at harassing, he is. The blue is making doe eyes at Desri — much to his amusement and not so much Desri's. R'iahn's expression is somewhere between resigned and exasperated at this point, as he eyes Desri with a chuckle. "Oh, I imagine she's right." He huffs. "More mouths to feed, though. Still. 'Least the nannies keep 'em in line." There's an amused twist of his mouth, then, as he tosses a wistful look back towards the weyr. "Fostered my oldest boy out, he needed more…direction. Lory'd gut me if I tried to foster any of the rest of 'em out." He chuckles gruffly, then nods once more. "Aye, aye. It is." However, the sound of more clomping hooves has his attention pretty quickly, and he watches the trio of runners and their handler approach with vague curiosity. "'lo." R'iahn might once have been required to stand on ceremony, but now he just lifts a hand in greeting, while Jae rolls over onto his back and twists so he can peer at the runners and their leader curiously. "I'd guess at the stables." …so helpful, R'iahn. "They're down the meadow some, can't miss it if you head towards the Weyr. Fine beasts, are they?" The bluerider eyes the drafts with half-narrowed eyes, then waves a hand vaguely. "R'iahn. That's Jaesriuth." Names? Possibly. Probably.

Desri is likewise doing her best to ignore her oversized suitor, for all that she's still holding the gift Jaesriuth had given her. She ducks her chin and casts an angled look at the odd train approaching. Distractions from stilted and uncomfortable conversation abound this morning! Talk of children and fostering are put on hold in order to attend to the greeting ritual. "Desri," she offers by way of her own introduction. A small smile is found a moment later to cap the polite effect. She spares a look for the direction indicted by the rider's gesture and then draws a breath to commit herself to an offer. "I could lead the way if you'd like." At least with the way pointed out first, she's less likely to get the poor lad lost. "I mean…R'iahn has weyrlings to see to," she adds with a glance at the man, "I didn't mean that I would…I'm not from Xanadu but." She'll just stop now.

"Rylavi." It's a name, but since she's fairly convinced there's no reason for anyone to bother remembering it, she doesn't really make much of an effort. Her eyes are mostly kept downwards, averted. When R'iahn first gives - what sound like - purposefully unhelpful directions, then clarifies and asks about her animals, the teenager draws up and looks him in the eye. Her eerie cat's-eye green irises flash once as a ray of sunlight hits them the right way. "They are my father's beasts, sir." As if that would answer any questions on quality. She maintains politeness, but it's a touch sullen and still stilted. Desri's offer is considered for a moment, the lad-who's-not-a-lad looking confused before hesitantly nodding. "That would help. I'm supposed to be back before noon." Not that this time-table will be kept, but the closer she is to noon, the less trouble she'll be in.

Riah peers between the two girls and the runners for a moment, looking at a loss for words. "Er," He nods after a moment or two, fishing up a smile from somewhere or other. "I do. Aye. Right you are, Desri." The bluerider even manages to look a little sheepish — here he is chatting, when there are Weyrlings to be shouted at! Rylavi is given a thoughtful look, then the runners a squinting nod. "Right. My regaurds to your father." He at least manages sincerity there, before squinting sky-wards. After a moment, a prim green firelizard appears overhead, and he holds out an arm. "Ashaya here can show you where they are. Smartest firelizard I ever saw." A half-smile for the green, and she launches herself into the air once more, hovering a dragonlength or two overhead. After a moment, Riah nudges the dragon with a boot and the inky blue ambles downhill a ways. "Well met, Desri." The girl gets a faint smirk, then Rylavi a slow inclination of his head. "And you, Rylavi. Good luck." So saying, he trots off after his dragon, and they're off, off to…torture some Weyrlings, probably.

"Good luck," Desri echoes, somewhat heartened by the appearance of the green firelizard. She glances up at the wee beastie before doing the same at Rylavi. After a moment's hesitation, she approaches. Still holding onto the weeds, let it be noted; there's no telling if the blue might glance back and catch her casting them aside before they're out of sight. Her inexperience with runners is shown in the way she looks at the string of animals, gnawing on her lower lip. "If they get spooky because of the dragons, I'm afraid I won't be of much help but…shall we?" Her head tips towards the Weyr, and the presumed stables.

Nodding once, Rylavi makes a chckchckchck noise in the back of her mouth and walks forward. The three draft horses move in a steady plod behind her, though the gelding at the rear gets a sharp wake-up call from his momentary nap. It's a few steps into the miniature journey before Rylavi decides to say anything. "They're draft breeds." It's an explanation but not one. "We call them cold-blooded because they're nowhere near as high-strung as the racing runners or even the endurance runners. They don't have the 'hot blood' as it were." Eyes are kept firmly ahead of her as she walks, but always at a downward tilt; careful not to meet other gazes. After another moment, she concludes with the point she should have made at the beginning. "The dragons won't bother them."

The slow, deliberate explanation is not a bad thing. Desri falls into step, managing somehow to nod in a way that doesn't make it seem her head is just bobbing around as a result of being on the move. If she minds the lack of eye contact, she gives no sign of it. Less awkwardness is being exhibited now than there seemed to be previous to the bluerider's departure. "I think I just learned more about runners in a few sentences than I've learned all my life," she says with a trace of soft amusement. "Is your Hold far? You weren't given a lot of time to deliver these, if they're as slow as that." A glance over her shoulder gauges the creatures' speed; it's a belated gesture but it shows her that she wasn't far off the mark.

"They've got long legs." At first, Rylavi's dry, half-arsed attempt at humor is left to sit on its own. Realizing, however, that based on the other girl's comment she knows very little at all about runners, Rylavi continues explaining. "They're herd animals. They naturally follow the most dominant member of their herd. For this group, that's the mare." She nods at the black animal on her right. "All I had to do was bareback ride at an easy lope for a while." She shrugs. "Black Rock's not so far out as all of that."

From the way Desri's eyes widen, it's clear she hadn't even considered that this wee slip of a youth could possibly ride the beasties. She slides a look over at Rylavi before doing the same at the mare. "That doesn't seem entirely safe, does it? Without a saddle or the…the things for your feet. She's huge." Ah, ignorance. Walking at least is safe enough, the way clear ahead and the path marked by the green's swooping, with the occasional encouraging cheep thrown in for good measure. "You should stay long enough for some water or juice after you deliver them," she adds, covering the lapse with a more mannerly remark. "Especially as you won't be able to…ah, ride on your way back."

"Stirrups." Rylavi seems rather a bit smug at that. "They're called stirrups." It's a pleasant change, this; at home she's the kid who knows nothing at all and on most deliveries she's the invisible handler behind the goods, but here is someone who knows less than she does. It's a bit of a heady sensation. "You don't have to be big to ride them." Her tone is a bit sulky - the high ruined as she (unknowingly correctly) guesses the source of the surprise. "I think it's easier to ride bareback. You can feel what your mounts going to do before they do it, if you know what you're looking for." Again, there's the hint of smugness to her tone; the sense that she does, in fact, know what she's looking for. "It depends on the time," Rylavi answers. She's not anxious to leave, now, but she is anxious to be back before too much trouble comes down on her head. "And whether the mount my brother left last time has healed up from where he foundered."

"Stirrups, right. Thank you." Wonder of wonder, Desri actually sounds genuine in expressing her gratitude. Being schooled by a youngster doesn't trouble the nanny. She's far more at ease now, in spite of that display of dubious surprise just a moment previous. "I've never ridden, I don't think I'd know what to look for, much less how to stop it if it happened." Whatever it is; no doubt some calamitous (and vague) imagining of wild gallops that end with the hapless rider tossed off to break their neck. A soft puff of breath indicates the anxiety she feels by just picturing such an event. It's only then that she thinks to cast aside the bundle of weeds, absentmindedly wiping her hand off on her trousers afterwards. The Weyr is closer now, the sound of it and the sight of it as the cliff-face rises in the distance. Given the neighing, the small cluster of buildings near the clearing's entrance is probably the stables; at least, that's where the green 'lizard zips off to. "I suppose we're here. I hope your beast is sound, foundering sounds nasty."

And now that the building is in sight, a little bit of tension bleeds from the youngster's shoulders. "It's not a bad thing to know how to do," Rylavi replies with a shrug, as if she could care less whether or not Desri learns. "Heck, even I could teach you how to not be completely awful." A bit of hubris, perhaps, but the youngster is not keen on letting go of a chance to be important to someone. "Anyway, I'd better go. I'll see you around." And with that, she leads her string of placid beasts into the stables.

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