An Experience to Remember

Xanadu Weyr - Feeding Grounds
Sparse trees are scattered through this field on the western edge of the forest, not far north of the clearing. The pen extends partly up the hills to the southwest, and the trees grow sparser the further west one goes. Within the large corral are a variety of beasts - ovines, bovines, and wherries - free to roam and graze. The appearance of a dragon may send them one way or the other to try and escape. A small pond is set near one corner of the enclosure, and at times it reflects the low, bordering mountains.

Just at the forest's edge, set under the tree line, is a guest weyr for use in mating flights, a simple cottage made of weathered planking and grey stones.

Watching beasts get rent limb from limb and consumed by great big maws full of sharp pointy teeth is probably not everyone's idea of a good time, but that hasn't stopped Stefyr from perching on the safe side (SAFE SIDE, hear me?) of the fence, rather near the end of the feeding grounds that holds the small pond to watch just those events ongoing with a lithe blue some distance away. His expression is one of mixed fascination and nausea, but it also appears that he can't seem to make himself look away from the routine spectacle. The blue is being tidy, really, with his prey, it's just that there's only so much tidiness a dragon can manage with the naturally dirty business of consuming a so recently deceased ovine. Considering that it doesn't appear that there's any knifepoint pressed to Stefyr's back (he's really quite alone as far as human company goes), he's brought this pre-dusk gory entertainment on himself and is due no pity if he does lose whatever remains of his lunch on his boots.

THUNK. What's that sound you ask? LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT, STEFYR. Sup. That's a MASSIVE GOLDEN HEAD with WHIRLING BLUE EYES (and some pretty damn wonky headknobs) plopping her face RIGHT THERE BESIDE YOU, tilting her head towards you, and cracking her maw just enough to make it look like she'd be physically laughing if dragons were capable of such a thing. THE MORAL OF THE STORY: NOWHERE IS SAFE. Not from Leirith, anyway, who projects a booming, « HELLO THERE, MINI-YON. ARE YOU WATCHING THE BADASSES BE BADASSES? ONCE, I WAS SO BADASS THAT I TOOK I DON'T KNOW HOW TO COUNT BUT IT WAS A LOT OF THEM DOWN AT ONCE, AND I COULD TOTALLY SEE THE SADNESS IN THEIR EYES AS I BIT DOWN INTO THEIR — » "Leirith," comes FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF STEFYR. Sup bro. Don't mind Risali. She got here by magic, or science, or the art of scaling a dragon and being deposited by a paw but never-you-mind how she got there. SHE JUST IS, tucking her hands just slightly beneath her and tipping to the side so that she can bump her shoulder in against Stefyr's and then jerk her chin out towards the blue and its SAVAGE ANNIHILATION OF HERDBEAST MASSES with a raise of her brows and a slow hint of canines behind an almost-smile. "You alright?" Because listen. She will still pity him if he loses his lunch on his boots. She just might murder him if he adds a little of that lunch onto hers, which are currently starting to swing beside his.

"Oh shit!" It's probably a really valid response to being startled practically out of one's skin by the very sudden arrival of Leirith basically in what qualifies as Stefyr's personal space (which is a lot bigger in regard to dragons than humans, by the by, because they're bigger, especially this one). If he knew Leirith better, maybe he would dare swear at her, but it's just swearing in her vicinity at the moment, but the one swear word is very heartfelt. Given that the gardener is just that, a gardener, with no lifemate to speak of, and little experience with dragons in general, it's probably not surprising that he looks real dumb for a few moments after being greeted thus. It's okay, Leirith, he might be playing dumb to avoid becoming worthy of adoption, even though he set that fire for Risali, once. He actually looks relieved to see Risali appear because now he's not alone with Leirith, and any sane person would be pleased by that, right? After the shoulder bump, he reaches up one hand to touch her shoulder, and then slide that hand to her other shoulder, and then put his other hand on the other shoulder, so he can sidestep behind her. It's for a shoulder rub - which, to be fair, he begins lightly without delay. It's also so he can cower behind the goldrider (at least so far as her gold is concerned). "Yeah, fine," NOT, "I've just never seen something that large eat something that large. I mean, tunnelsnakes and trundlebugs are hardly a comparison." His eyes go back to the blue for a few wide eyed blinks. "Do they always hunt like that? I mean, do they do it when they're little? How many does she eat?" She, Leirith, who is not being directly addressed but is being given stolen sidelong glances. "She's huge," he whispers as though that will help the gold not hear his observation. How many herdbeasts would make one gold dragon in size? Stefyr's brain might break trying to count that high.

« NOT TODAY, » Leirith answers the swears, amusement doubled and REDOUBLED with every thrum of bass and beat of drum. « JUST LEIRITH. THAT IS WHAT MY FRIENDS CALL ME, ANYWAY. » A beat. « AT LEAST THEY WOULD, IF ANY OF THEM WERE ALIVE. » Another pause, another tilt of that draconic head. « OR IF I HAD ANY TO BEGIN WITH. » And she's laughing, laughing at the insults she levels on herself even as she wuffles an exhale of HOT DRAGON BREATH right all over poor Stefyr. FLEE. RUN AWAY. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Which… okay, he kind of does. He touches one of Risali's shoulders, then the other, then he sidesteps her and — "What are you — oh." Nope. You're not going to get any arguments from the weyrwoman — not this time. There's a soft sound in her throat, something more akin to a whimper as she GLADLY BARTERS THE PROTECTION OF HER SMOL BODY FOR A SHOULDER RUB. At first, Risali doesn't answer him — not with anything coherent, anyway. There's another soft sound, a tilt of her head to the side, a part of lips, a press of eyelids together as brows knit right in the middle and — "No." It's breathless, but she manages to speak. "I mean, yes. They… well, they're like their personalities, aren't they? They're all a little different. Some are more cruel, some… some struggle to kill anything, but they're taught from youth that they should be quick. They learn when they're still pretty young how to hunt anyway, but not too young. Exertion and prematurely utilizing their wings can — hnnn, Faranth, don't stop — can injure them so." So… so she lost track of what she was saying. SUE HER. It takes her a moment, another exhale, another whimper-of-sound before she manages another breathy, "Not as often as you'd probably think, but more than probably most." And then there's a huff of laughter, shortlived as Risali tilts back her chin so that she can see Stefyr HOGGING HER EYEBALLS-AND-HEAD SPACE. "She's a gold." That's WHY SHE'S HUGE. And, unfortunately for all parties involved, she's one of the biggest in existence right now. « I AM NOT HUGE. YOU ARE JUST TINY. AND FLIMSY. AHAHAHAHA. IT'S VERY UNFORTUNATE. FOR YOU, I MEAN. NO, NOT HIM. YOU MINION. » Making short jokes. STRAIGHT DISRESPECTFUL. "Do you want to see it more closely?" Like her rudeass dragon didn't just RUDELY INSULT HER. Or him. Both.

The lack of argument is possibly the entire motive behind the shoulder rub. Stefyr's keeping the only person he has to be faster than if, in fact, he does need to run for his life imminently complacently in a poorer position for starting that run. It's clever, really, if he's thinking that far ahead and not just acting on instinct (even if he hasn't shown a positive track record in regard to self-preservation instincts; maybe facing down a dragon lights up different warning signs in his brain than petit goldriders). He doesn't stop, not even when he looks perplexed by Leirith's discussion of possibly dead, nonexistent friends, probably because she stays right where he wants her - between him and Leirith. He's not trained for shoulder rubs, mind, but he must have one or two female relations for whom a shoulder rub was also a form of currency because he's not terrible at it. He listens with interest to the explanation, and seems to follow, even when her train of thought meanders to a halt. He blinks twice in rapid succession down at her with her last question. "N-" starts on his lips but with a flinch he changes it to a, "Yes," that isn't quite an uncertain whimper, but it has something of that tone to it. He gives her a gentle push forward and takes his hands from her shoulders to shove into the pockets of his slightly dirty work pants. Her first.

Risali makes a sound like she's actually bereft the loss of contact when Stefyr withdraws his hands — like maybe she would rescind her offer if it got her a couple more moments with those hands that, shamelessly, earn the attention of grey eyes with a timeless sort of wistfulness even as he tucks them away from her view. That is just rude. But then Risali is smiling, shifting so that she can stand toe-to-toe with the gardener and lean in towards him. It's not really impressive, actually, on account of the fact that it's probably about chest-high that her chin finds his body and she leans her weight forward still, onto the tips of her toes as her own hands tuck away into her own pockets. "I didn't think you were going to say yes." She is impressed. And then she's rocking backward and catching at his arm as she moves around him to Leirith and digs out — WHAT ARE THOSE? A HELMET. SOME GOGGLES. Thankfully, the seem to be spares, because Risali produces a second pair of the same that she shoves down on her head single-handedly. And then she's holding the second helmet out to Stefyr, wiggling it back and forth as brows rise JUST BEFORE her free hand snaps goggles in place over them. "Don't back out on me now, Stefyr." Leirith is already positioning herself for both gardener and lifemate to ascend, thrumming more laughter. « IT IS BETTER THAN BEING THE PREY, PROBABLY. I AM SURE THAT THEY WOULD LIKE TO FLY INSTEAD OF RUN ON THEIR TINY, INEFFECTIVE LEGS. THAT WAS ABOUT THE HERDBEASTS THIS TIME, MINION. NOT YOU. » So. Damn. Rude.

Stefyr leans back as she leans forward, not so much that Risali's chin doesn't find his chest or so much that he overbalances, but he gives obliging weight to some invisible part of her - possibly her knot, or maybe just the fact that she's Risali. Either way, he cowers a little. "I didn't want to," he confesses, of saying yes, but he doesn't offer an explanation as to why he did, nor does he hesitate to go with her. He does hesitate when she holds out the second set. Slowly, slowly, he takes the items, as if they might bite or maybe even mortally wound him. "I've never flown," he adds to the list of items he's confessing. Still he seems to figure out how the gear goes together in a couple of tries. His confession doesn't seem to have been a plea for her to go gentle on him, but possibly just fair warning in case he does puke on anyone's boots, or dragons. "Is she always like this?" He murmurs low, again as if he thinks she can't very well hear him. He doesn't, certainly, seem comfortable addressing Leirith directly.

"Never?" Risali asks, her surprise genuine (and void judgment). Now that smile is slow coming, rife with mischief. "It's absolutely terrifying." It's not, actually. Well, not too much anyway, but it's rude for Risali to SET THAT PRECEDENT just to see if Stefyr follows through with his offer. The only reason she doesn't help him with that rider-centric gear is because he doesn't ask. AND LOOK AT THAT. He doesn't need her help anyway (though she comes in to check regardless, because her recklessness does not extend to potentially harming others). It's when she steps back that Risali parts with breathy laughter. Leirith answers, « YES, » and Risali answers, "No." Dragon and rider look at each other, and Risali smacks that golden snout away before turning her attention back to Stefyr. "She has two different… voices, I guess. This one — the one you're hearing. It's like… her bluster. Her front. The face she presents to everybody else. But then… but then there's another voice that I can't quite explain. There are dancers, and beautiful dresses, and masks made of feathers. There's lights, and smells, and I don't think that there's anything on Pern quite equivalent to it. It's…" HARD TO IMAGINE, ISN'T IT? "Beautiful. But she shares it with very few. Garouth probably most of all." And her, of course. « IT IS LIES. I AM A BADASS THROUGH AND THROUGH. MY MINION ONLY MEANS TO LURE YOU INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY. AHAHAHAHA. » "Come on." TIME TO MOUNT, and she will LEAD BY EXAMPLE. Leirith, thankfully, is helpful. But once they've both reached those straps and buckles, it takes Risali a moment of adjusting and readjusting to make sure they're both not going to FALL TO AN UNTIMELY DEATH. "Ready?"

Stefyr gulps gratifyingly; he believes Risali when she tells him flight is terrifying. He's still going, of course, he went to all the trouble to put on the gear, after all, and he said yes, and evidently he doesn't take that back, no matter how much he might be replaying scenes from his former easy life doing hard labors on a farm. Light blue eyes bounce from goldrider to dragon, dragon to goldrider, the gardener's expression one of deep thought. He nods, slowly, uncertainly. He probably doesn't understand, but since it's hard to explain, that's probably easy to guess. The nod might be just acknowledgement of her explanation and equally his acknowledgement of Leirith's claimed badassery. Stefyr mimics the goldrider, though he seems afraid to grip too hard, as if he could hurt a badass gold like Leirith with his measly human strength. He probably wants to grip a lot harder than he even has to because this is high up once they get there. There's another gulp when he looks down and quickly looks straight ahead and only straight ahead. He works with her as best he can, trusting her, evidently, to help him settle into the straps and work the buckles and so on. "N-" he starts again, but swallows and changes it to, "Yes."

Nailii wanders into the feeding grounds, from the forest.
Nailii has arrived.

It's that drop-of-your-stomach, pit-in-your-throat feeling when that massive body undulates beneath them — and Risali. Risali is already bubbling laughter. HERE IS YOUR SET, SWEET NAILII: FEEDING GROUNDS. QUESTIONABLE IDEAS. RISALI, AND STEFYR ON LEIRITH. And that massive, impressively winged dragon is snapping out those sails that go on and on and on for-damn-near-ever as she turns her body around and then tucks them in again. « TEN POINTS IF HE LOSES HIS LUNCH AND HITS A HERDBEAST, MINION. » "Fifty if he makes it through no worse for the wear!" Risali calls back, because they are absolutely rude (and anyway, it's clearly meant for his benefit if they are not utilizing that private line of connection between them). And then Leirith takes one enormous bound that rocks them back and pitches them forward, that clears an alarming amount of distance, and then another, and then she's actually leaving the ground — perhaps not nearly as fast as a green, or a blue, or even a bronze might be capable of, but certainly with an electric amount of alacrity. Risali holds her breath as they climb, and climb, and climb, and then those sails snap out once more to catch the wind beneath them and Leirith banks a hard right, swinging them back towards the pens. Risali would probably ask Stefyr if he's okay, but the goldrider is much too busy laughing at that giddy twist of her stomach to be of much use. "Hold on!" she manages to call, though it remains to be seen if she's heard over wind, and wings, and the sudden tribal beat of a draconic mind preparing for the hunt.

Maybe Risali's laughter will cover up the steady stream of uncreative swearing (mostly things repeated) from behind her in a voice no longer in the same range of masculine as it was when they were safe on the ground. Stefyr was okay until Leirith actually left the ground, but since then, a litany of curses. The goldrider doesn't really need to tell the gardener to hold on because his knuckles are already white as they grip the shoulder straps that help hold him in. The only thing the possibly caught words serve to do is to make Stefyr's tanned face go whiter than it was moments before, but that could just be the duration of flight so far. On the bright side, he doesn't look green now. Yet. He might wish that it were closer to dusk and with less light to see by because this might be less terrifying if he could see less of the expanse of sharp pointy things here and there on the ground that could definitely break even a big man like him falling from this height. He briefly tries closing his eyes, but that is quickly proven a poor plan and he snaps them back open behind the borrowed goggles.

"I wuld prefer if you did not bring something home today… I don't have time to take care of another per of yours." Nailii offers as she walks on towards the feeding grounds with Talanoath following behind her. A faint rumble escapes the brown. « But Whiskey needs a friend… » The brown lifts his head catching sight of Leirith take to the air and looks rather confused it seems a just what is going on. Nailii is left watching the show in the sky blinking and glancing to her dragon then back to the gold. "Dare I ask just what is going on?" This question to her dragon. Talanoath has no idea but he continues on towards the feedin grounds none the less. « What is the happening Leirith? »

It's a GOOD THING, because Leirith climbs even as she banks, and at that peak of height, when she's soaring over the feeding pens, those wings seem to crumble in flight and suddenly they're falling. They're diving. Leirith is extending talons out before her and it happens — TALANOATH IS ALL UP IN HER HEAD, and the gold's attention snaps towards her brown progeny. All the warning Stefyr will get that This Is A Bad Idea is Risali's sudden, pitchy-shriek of, "LEIRITH, NO!" And then she's screaming, there's no words because those sails snap back out and bank too hard as the gold aims to use inertia to throw her back towards the sky instead of towards the ground at a point where it's not very clear if a gold can make it. BUT LEIRITH HAS FAITH IN HERSELF, and while she might not have the maneuverability of her smaller brethren, this gold has tested her limits just enough to be able to abandon that pursuit of food and climb high, high, high, too damn high again. And that's it. Risali's gasping down air and then she's laughing because wouldn't you just guess that those are the kinds of thrills the goldrider lives and breathes for. « WE WERE GOING TO CATCH US A HERDBEAST. THE TALL MINION WANTED TO KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO BE THE PREDATOR. NOW, AT LEAST, HE KNOWS WHAT IT MEANS TO FLY. » And she banks again, hard, swinging them back around but away — away from the pens this time, out towards Nailii and Talanoath before she circles down, down, down. The descent is, all things considered, probably the most relaxing part of this entire endeavor because there's nothing daring in the way the gold aims to land as gentle as she can. But then she doesn't land very gentle anyway because she's rude. She lands GENTLE ENOUGH THOUGH, okay. A little bit of jarring when gnarled talons hit the ground and she leap, stumble, BUTT PLOPS on the ground beside Talanoath is ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. So is the way she IMMEDIATELY shoves her snout in against the brown. Risali takes just long enough to smile, to wave at Nailii, and then she's turning towards Stefyr to whisper a breathless, "You alright?" SHE WILL HELP HIM OUT. … Eventually. Probably. If he's still alive. It's complicated.

Stefyr does not have faith in Leirith. Especially since it seems, however briefly, that Risali would agree with him given her negative. After a brief glance toward the new brown on the scene, there are no swears, only screaming right along with the goldrider. If the gardener ever gets on a dragon again after this pre-dusk ride, it will be an honest miracle. To the blond man's credit, he's not begging to go down to the ground when the gold climbs high again, possibly because Leirith dumped his capacity for words out one of his ears in her maneuvering. He does not join Risali in her thrill-loving, but instead after the screaming of the apparent near crash, he goes awfully, terribly silent. His knuckles are even more bloodeless as his hands remain locked on the straps. When asked if he's alright, Stefyr manages to turn his be-goggled eyes to Risali, but no words come out. Those begoggled blue eyes find Nailii next and there's finally something there: a plea. Help.

Talanoath watches and seems to be grinning and tilts his head with a warble escaping him all the while. "No you can not help her." Nailii says while she leans against the pen fence and watches with a laugh esacping her once the gold has landed. Talanoath rumbles and nosebumps his maw and head right back into his motherdearest (no wires hangers). Nailii is about to say something before blinking at the look from Stefyr and she offers a light smile as she is heading over to the well four, now and is moving to try and give Stefyr a helpng hand. "So.. How's it going Stefyr?" She questions with an amused tone and slight shake of her head before she points at his hands. "Your have to let go for us to get you outa the straps. Unless you want to go again?" « That was a BEAUTIFUL dive and swing of those wings.. He is impressed, look at him he doesn't want to get down! I think he wants to go again. » Talanoath offers while looking to the rather worried looking fella.

OH NO. Risali sees that face and that glance towards Nailii and while Risali's smile remains in place, there is certainly something that crumbles and shuts off behind goggled eyes. That smile shifts, turns into something that's more forced, half an apology, half something bordering on self-deprecation as she breathes out a whispered, "I'm sorry," and then moves. Look. He didn't look to HER for help, he looked to Nailii, and Risali unhooks herself to make more room for the brownrider because MAYBE STEFYR WILL FEEL SAFER WITH NAILII IN CONTROL. It's why she reaches out to squeezes the other rider's arm on her way, to squeeze even as Leirith thrums, « IT WAS, WASN'T IT? IT WAS BADASS. I BET THAT YOU COULD DO IT EVEN BETTER, MY TALANOATH. » CUE THE LAUGHTER. « AND I FEEL LIKE HE IS SO IMPRESSED THAT I HAVE STOLEN HIS WORDS. 'LEIRITH, YOU FLY LIKE SOMETHING THAT FLIES REALLY WELL' I AM PRETTY SURE HE IS SAYING. » a beat. « DEFINITELY SAYING. I AM POSITIVE. MY MINION HAS THREATENED ME WITH TERRIBLE THINGS IF WE TRY AGAIN. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD LET HIM FLY WITH YOU. » TRADDDDDDDDESSSSSSSSSSIES. But for all her talk, Leirith remains pointedly still while she waits for Nailii (and Stefyr) to figure out how to get the poor gardener free. Risali? She's… being quiet for once, busying herself with exaggerated movements to remove her goggles, and her helmet, and put them away.

There's a half-choked wheeze that might be an attempt from Stefyr at a word as Risali moves away, but it doesn't get to be more than that. Blue eyes lock with Nailii's and he seems to be forcing some measured breaths before he can get his fingers to obey the directive to let go. He's shaking his head a little. That might be no, he doesn't want to go again, or just no. With the brownrider's help, he manages to get out of the straps and unsteadily makes his way to the ground. He might slip a little, but it's not Leirith's fault (probably) since his legs look like they might be jelly. When he gets to the ground, he braces his hands on his knees and breathes, just breathes. On the bright side, there's no vomit. Still, there are no words. Maybe Leirith took a permanent victory. His eyes shift to Risali briefly and he looks a little pained like maybe he wants to say something, to fix it, but he really just can't yet. There's a gesture at the helmet and goggles and another pleading look to Nailii. Will she take further pity on him and help him off with the spare gear? His hands are trembling on his knees so it would probably take a bit of doing from him to get them free himself.

Nailii offers a smile back to Risali, a slight nod seen a well to show she ges it, she even offers the other a pat to the shoulder. She has no idea why she gets to be the one that saves Stefyr but hey she can help out! "It'll be alright, gona get you down from here ok?" The dragonhealer offers to Stefyr, her voice calm as if she's done this before? WHO KNOWS. Talanoath rumbles and bobs his head a few times. « INDEED! ALL THE FLYING! Though.. I don't want him to forget this moment so I shall take him on a flight at a later time. I don't think yours would actually have a problem if you took him again, though he might need to soak in this moment. Can't let him forget it! » Nailii works on the straps and once they are undone she moves to work on the helmet and then lightly pulls the goggles off Stefyr as well. "See? Not that bad… Please don't vomit on me though." Talanoath turns only slightly, his head looming over Stefyr and then lowers to offer some help to him. "You can lean against Talanoath, he won't do any quick movements ok?"

LEIRITH LOWERS HER HEAD TOO. SUP, MINI-YON. « YOU WERE A BADASS. MINION HAS REWARDED YOU FIFTY OF WHAT WE DEEM 'COOL POINTS'. » Welcome to Xanadu Weyr, where EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE AND THE COOL POINTS DON'T MATTER. You might not want to lean on her though. Talanoath is definitely the safer bet. If Risali notices pained expressions (she doesn't), she doesn't react to them; in fact, she really only turns back to face them so that she can grab the spare helmet and goggles once they're free and it's hard to gauge WHAT SHE IS SEEING because she has a lot of dark hair and it's super thick (and loosely curled), and all of that has colluded with helmets to make her face NIGH INVISIBLE BENEATH A CURTAIN OF DARKNESS. AND DESPAIR. AND WOE. Just kidding, it's not that dramatic by half, but she's certainly UNREADABLE AT THE MOMENT. "It might help if you try laying down," Risali offers then, hushed. "Leirith can help elevate your legs — or Talanoath, even." And there she is. She's leaning an elbow on Leirith's snout so that she can look over it at brownrider and gardener.

If only Stefyr knew of Talanoath's concern, he could assure the brown that this is one unforgettable experience. Blue eyes bulge a little bit at the offered, oversized help. Doubly when Leirith's head comes down, too. He looks so much like he wants to refuse, but instead tentatively reaches out a hand to use the brown dragon's head to help him straighten up. "Yes," isn't really to anyone in particular and who knows what it even means, but at least he's verbal again. He coughs then, but doesn't retch (hooray!), and seems to finally be gathering himself to be a little less wobbly, physically and mentally. "Are you sure I wouldn't end up upside-down?" His voice is hoarse now, but there's a tinge of dry humor in the question directed at Risali. He doesn't apologize for freaking out, but he does offer a not quite sure smile to the goldrider. "Thank you for your help, Nailii," he directs to the AWLM. He reaches up both hands then to push through his helmet-mooshed hair, letting it fall in all directions before he draws himself up to look at the condiment-colored gold. "Thank you for the experience, Leirith." See? He even talked directly to her this time, even if his tone is more bland than heartfelt. It was probably good for him.

Talanoath is the SAFEST don't you know? Well to some degree, and at the moment he is being rather nice. « Next time we should dive into the lake with them strapped in. » HE may or may not have done this before. Naili sends a glare towards her dragon, she HEARD that too. "Laying down would help, and something to calm your nerves, like ginger tea." Once the goggles and helmet is given to Risali, Lynn brushes her hands off and moves over to the side and steps down onto Talanoath's foreleg and offes both hands out to Stefyr to help him down, if he wants it. She smiels and nods. "Your welcome, I can understand how that might have felt. Believe it or not I still have a thing with flying at times, heights as well."

"Well," Risali offers up, aiming for her usual mischief and humor. She fails, but she tries. "No." No she CANNOT PROMISE he will not end up upside down. And now, now Leirith's mind bleeds out more gentle, the bass and drums no longer present; instead there's a whisper of fabric, the impression of beauty and grace behind masks made of feathers, in dresses taken out of Terran myth and eras long past. The scent of spun sugar and funnel cake seeps into every word — gentle despite the fact that she sounds no less sunbright, no less giddy, no less enthusiastic. « You are welcome. You were very brave. » And there's light — carnival lights, and mirrors, and a brush that's withdrawn too quick. BADUMBADUMBADUMBADUM. That thrum of BASS and DRUMS is back, that maw cracking as if she means to LAUGH AT HIM. « NEXT TIME, I WILL MAKE SURE THERE ARE NO STRAPS. » One up on the DANGER. AFFIRMATIVE ON THE DEATH. Look, she's probably just kidding, but it's hard to really tell. This is Leirith, after all. "I can also walk you to the infirmary, if you want." Though it appears Risali is going either way. Mostly because she's putting her hands on Nailii's shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple, breathing out, "Give D'lei the biggest hug and the grossest, wettest kiss you can if you're lucky enough to see him, will you?" And then she waits for Stefyr to decide. WILL HE GO? WILL HE STAY? DOES HE WANT THE HELP. HE CAN TOTALLY USE HER AS AN ARM REST. SHE'S SHORT ENOUGH.

"Lying down sound good," Stefyr picks up on at least that much of the suggestions being offered him by the women with whatever part of his brain is now functioning; it's surely not all of it since he goes on, "I think I'll do it in my room." Not the infirmary, then. This is a plan he seems to immediately wish to pursue and takes the steps to do so. He pauses only long enough to add, "I'm okay." It seems to be a pair of words for Risali, and it's followed by, "It's okay." But then he will step carefully (lurchingly? a little) toward her and put an arm over her shoulders - armrest-like - and take up her offer for at least some of the walk. "But talk later." Not now. He's easing off on the trembles, but he doesn't really seem to have enough of his words back from wherever Leirith might've cached them. "Thanks, Nailii." Did he say that already? Well. It never hurts to be sure. And off he goes, slowly, not quite staggeringly, but not really as saunter-y as his usual long-legged gait carries him.

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