Rear Guard(s)

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrling Barracks
A long and roughly oblong cavern. About a third of the space is open, used for classes or chores as required. The rest of the space is filled with couches of varying sizes, all with plenty of space between them. Some couches are obviously intended for the very young weyrlings while the largest ones at the back are for the older weyrlings.

There are supplies for the care of dragons tucked back against the walls. A barrel of oil sits with scrub brushes and soft clothes, and a thick hardwood table is used to prepare meat in bite-sized pieces for the young dragons. There's also a few supplies for the weyrling humans, like bedding for cots or extra pillows for those sleeping on their lifemate's couch.

Undoubtedly a lot of questionable sounds have been filling the air around the barracks lately. Currently, one dominating the nearby vicinity may be something that sounds a lot like a saw. ZZZZZzzzzzZZZzzzzzZZZZzzz!!! Followed by a loud and wet snort only to then be picked back up. ZZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzz. Rinse and Repeat. It's not hard to find the source as Inasyth has SO HELPFULLY claimed not one, but TWO couches. Wings and legs and tail are everywhere as she sprawls like a gelatinous golden ooze. Her hindquarters might be on the first couch, but she's still stretching across the aisle way to get to the other. Rhodelia meanwhile, has been trying to battle this for a while judging by her sweaty, red face. The former assistant leans in to put her back into again as she tries to push back one of those wings. It works for… a minute, but for tries to focus on moving another bit of sleeping dragon and the wing falls right back to where it was before. "One step forward…" And two wing flaps back.

« ALLOW ME, helpless handler. » Never let it be said that a damsel remained long in distress with Glorioth around. His big head is pushing right into Inasyth's rump (or side, or wherever). « HEAVE! » Where is F'yr? Nowhere. Good luck, Rhody! At least the young goldrider got plenty of warning when Glorioth was coming. It wasn't his habitual cry this time, but rather his newest VERY HEROIC (very LOUD) theme song. The clash of weapons and cries of dying foes is especially prominent in his current off-key rendition of … well, who the shell knows what, but something obviously superior in its superiority.

There's warning and then warning. Rhodelia was distracted enough with her own effort and maybe just accustomed enough to the ever present LOUDNESS of Glorioth that she's still caught off-guard as the bronze head buts right around her, but not as much as the sleeping Inasyth who flails as her bum is heave-hoed into the air. «< AHHHHHH!!!! THE EARTH! THE EARTH IS SHAKING!!! » She scampers and scramples to try and right herself. There may or may not be a kick or two to her brother's so helpful snout unless he ducks particularly quickly. Once all four legs are on the ground, the little gold puffs herself up and unfurls her wings. « RHODY! GLORIOTH! EVERYBODY UNDER MY WINGS!!! I'LL PROTECT YOU!!! » Chicken little is ready for any falling skies.

Glorioth radiates his joy his triumph, his heroic victory to EVERYONE. It's painfully intense, but maybe, just maybe, why F'yr is managing to scrape along with his new lifemate because it is beautiful, even if the choirs singing his praises are still regrettably off-key. Even as he wiggles his head comically after receiving a smack to the snout, he scoffs. « You'll protect me? » She is a gold, it's what she does, and maybe on some level, some visceral level, he knows that. But that level is not one that currently connects with his brain, not outside of true emergency anyway. « I am here to protect you! » Is that why he came? Well, NOW IT IS. He's sure even if the rest of you can't keep up with his dizzying intellect. And so it is that he turns to face down whatever the new dangers is. THERE IS NEW DANGER, RIGHT? It can't be F'yr, no matter how F'YRSOMELY he's huff-puffing down the aisle from the direction of the outside world, his arm cradled close to his chest and not just because he's trying in vain to protect ribs that may never heal at this rate, but because there's a slightly grayish tiny brown firelizard huddled against his big chest. ONLY A FEW DAYS OLD, LOOK AT THAT. "Glori! What are you doing?" He demands, eyes wildly flicking to Rhodelia, panic and strain in the lines of his face.

« But… but… » Inasyth is for a moment miraculously without words as whatever maternal instinct she was born with wars with Glorioth's oh so persuasive argument that he is the one to do the protecting. She flaps one of her wings out towards him. « But I'm bigger than you? Or we can take turns??? » The image flashes like a rough flipbook. Two stick dragons, alternating who is cowering under who's wing. And as for danger, she's still eyeing the rafters as if the DANGER MIGHT COME ANY MINUTE. Rhodelia gives a sigh and collapses on the edge of the couch, criss cross, redfruit sauce. "They're protecting each other." The cradled chest is eyed carefully. "For what that protection is worth?"

« Ahhahahahaha hahhahahahah hahahaha, » Inasyth is hilarious, and Glorioth thoroughly enjoys a good joke. « It's not about the size, it's about the use. You have these effeminate claws, while I have mighty ones! » He flexes them, so she understands just how very mighty they are, though he doesn't turn to look back at her. HE'S GUARDING FOR DAN— « AH! Roderick, my pebbly midget, » he greets the grotesque little brown firelizard cradled in his rider's arm. « Is he once again ready to adventure? » "No, the dragonhealer says he needs to rest. « REST? » The bronze sounds appalled. « BUT OUR QUEST- » "…will have to wait," F'yr uses his firm voice, hear him? That doesn't stop a big bronze nose from pushing into OWPAIN ribs, trying to get at his companion. "Hi," is wheezed greeting for gold and rider.

Inasyth spreads out those effeminate claws. If dragons grow anything like puppies, she'll probably have a lot of growing to do to grow into those feetsies. Once she's done peering for any hint of what might not be suitable for guarding, she spins around so she can slap a wing over her brother's back. « I'll guard your butt!!! » Even as she's doing the very important butt-guarding, she'll twist her neck so she can watch for any updates about this new quest and her eyes whirl with excitement. « Ooooh! A Quest. You gotta rest, rest, rest up for your Quest, quest, quest!!! Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be the best! » Rhody meanwhile just pats at the spot on the couch next to her, all the invitation anyone needs, right? "You look like you could also use some rest."

« If you think you can, » Glorioth sounds dubious, but he won't stop her. Sometimes a team can be useful. He noses at F'yr whose eyes grow tear-bright with pain as that nose presses presses presses on his chest, "Stop," he finally says, reaching up his free hand to push at the too-big-baby's nose. The rider skirts the bronze as he turns his attention on his golden clutch sibling to begin regaling her with the adventure of the barracks trek, complete with dragonly heroics and sound effects to make the experience more real. Meanwhile, F'yr sinks down onto the couch, leaning back and letting the very strange looking brown curl in that crook of his arm. "I'll just close my eyes for a minute." Evidently he trusts Rhody to wake him if Glorioth starts to do anything too rambunctious.

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