A Tale of Two Encouragements

A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves. The meadow continues with gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes, and eventually those hills grow higher and steeper, ending in a large ridge that provides a fine view of that meadow and the rest of the Weyr, gazing out over the multicolored roofs of the houses and the cliff that holds the caverns.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, and a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing. Trees border the northern side of the meadow, and more of those low, rolling hills can be seen to the northwest. A road passes through the meadow, coming from the east and used by traders and crafters alike. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests or ore from the mountains are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.

A bored bronze, his golden sister, and two too-trusting weyrlings in blindfolds. WHAT COULD GO WRONG? What's supposed to be happening here is some variety of practice with silent communication between rider and dragon, what's supposed to be happening is each dragon guiding his or her rider to find the other blindfolded participant. At least they picked the meadow where despite occasionally uneven ground, there is something of a lack of obstacles for anyone to stumble into, except for, you know, Inasyth or Glorioth themselves. WHAP. (That's F'yr walking into Inasyth. It probably feels like some boops of hands before his face lands against golden hide, too. "Glori," is complaint. It's not the first time. It probably won't be the last time. "You're supposed to be leading me to Rhody, not Ina." « I don't see what difference it makes. You found one of them. This is the dullest of the dull and we are not making any progress in my quest. » Irritable in the extreme, there's sharp clashes of weapons and a too-hot heat of the fires of battle. That musk of his that is usually so DRAGONLY is now a little sour and there's something of a very dragonly pout to the bronze who has been wrangled and put upon to do something as dumb as this particular exercise. He's surprisingly good at communicating with F'yr alone when he wishes to, but the thing is that that is so rarely the case that the rest of the world is treated to his mood as well. It's to Inasyth that he attempts to appeal, again, « We should venture to the place of murder and mayhem. » DOESN'T THAT SOUND GREAT? He makes it sound dangerous and sublime all at once. He means the feeding grounds, which may still be too far for still relatively little dragons to get before getting to tired, but this is a bronze with big dreams.

Trust, but verify. Golden words that may very well have been given as the excuse for this ridiculous exercise. Rhodelia is busying doing a great deal of verifying but very little trusting as she stands in the middle of the meadow, sweeping her foot out for obstacles but not really going anywhere quickly. IT's an odd circle-sweeeeeeeep, then a little hop for her gait. Inasyth is probably the only one out here who isn't just tolerating the activity, but enjoying it. The growing gold wiggles her butt to a fiesty beat, occassionally yelling out instructions. « To the left this time!!! Take it back now, Rhody! One hop! Ohhh… » The lyrical instructions break off suddenly as the music comes to a screeching halt as F'yr bumps into her hindquarters and Rhodelia whips off the blindfold, blinking in the sunlight. "Ohhh, what?" Inasyth contorts her neck back to give a boop to those questing hands with her snoot. « I think this one's trying to get fresh with me! Don't worry though, I'd grab me too. If I had hands! » Alas, she does not, but also she thankfully has very little idea of a personal bubble so any wayward weyrlings are perfectly welcome too. Her brother's suggestion gets an abrupt tilt of the head. « If you're not making progress, change the quest! » And then in a little voice, quiet enough to (hopefully) only be heard by Glorioth. « We won't be small forever. Practice guiding your's to where you can't go! Like smaller mayhem places! » Mayhem she can do. Murder maybe a bit too far…

Maybe this is the secret: F'yr only recognizes flirting when it's from a dragon??? He colors, his hand coming up to pull his blindfold off and give a sheepish smile to Inasyth. "You are a beautiful dragon," he compliments and means it, offering a headknob caress or eyeridge scritch by way of apology for his forward hands. All of which is met by a snort from Glorioth. For all that his annoyance is notched up by F'yr touching the other dragon, a terrible habit he's slowly learning to tolerate for short bursts at least, Inasyth's suggestion is met with an almost thoughtful attention. « Go to the place of murder and mayhem, F'yrless friend. ONCE THERE, BRING FOR ME A VILE HERDBEAST TO SLAUGHTER. » He. stares. F'yr. down. F'yr looks blandly unintimidated and his feet don't move. And thus Glorioth starts moving toward him because maybe all he needs to get going is a HEALTHY DOSE OF ENCOURAGEMENT. This might be a signal for F'yr to run, only he's distracted himself by looking to Rhody with apology. "I'm sorry. I thought he could be convinced to do this. Maybe if we made it more exciting somehow? We could hide meat chunks and make him lead me to them so he can have them?"

« I think I'm a little young for you! » And the flirting continues as Inasyth lowers her eyelid into a wink and Rhodelia groans, balling up the blindfold and tossing it in the general direction of the gold. "Don't encourage her. She'll just get more brazen." Words of experience there! But now that she's tossed her blindfold, she has to actually walk closer so she can fetch said blindfold. Inasyth is all for watching Glorioth's attempt to convince F'yr to MURDER HELPLESS HERDBEASTS IN HIS STEAD is just met with a snort. « Nice try, but you just jumped to the finale. That never, ever works. Folks love a good show! It's about the story. You gotta get some exposition! A little bit of rising action! THEN FINISH IT OFF WITH THE GRAND FINALE! » Which of course needs a near deafening bugle as she turns her head towards the sky. Rhodelia was at least able to get a hand up to block one ear before she tilts her now temporarily hard of hearing head towards F'yr. "What? Ohhh.. are you saying you want to train your dragon like a canine?" Just cause Rhody never actually trained her poof of a puppy doesn't mean she doesn't know how they would be trained in theory!

Ah, but Rhody, F'yr is just being F'yr. "What do you me-?" he starts to ask, but is interrupted simultaneously by that deafening bugle and by a whack his head into the big blond's back which only buffets him into Inasyth with a groan. Glorioth spares enough attention from the lifemate he's angling to whap again, heedless of the collateral that may be Inasyth getting a nose-full of F'yr. At least he smells like meat from their most recent feeding? « NONSENSE, » is the sentiment he has to spare for Inasyth. « He just needs a little more ENCOURAGEMENT. » Encouragement is code (a completely non-secret code) for bapping F'yr until he does what is wanted. "Glori, stop!" It's protest, but that meets with a booming, « AHAHAHAHAH HAAHAH, SEE? » as if that's confirmation that the dragonhandling is working. Whatever F'yr might have said to Rhody is lost in his attempt to sidestep and duck around Inasyth to at least get her out of the crossfire of what is bound to be a very physical contest between man and dragon. "If you re-break my ribs before they're even done healing, you'll have to wait again," he tries to reason with the dragon who only advances on him. He shoots Rhody a helpless look because he still hasn't worked out the trick to curtailing this one. His words just means Glorioth whips around to slap F'yr's bicep with his tail, "Shell!"

Rhody can't really help with the whapping bronze, as she's too busy having her jaw gap in a little bit of awe even if the sight might be all too familiar around the barracks, she's still not used to it. F'yr can try to get Inasyth out of the way of any crossfire, but SHE KNOWS WHERE SHE IS NEEDED. The young gold is only small in comparison to full grown dragons, but definitely big enough to take a few galloping steps to catch up with F'yr and then fold her wings around him. If he doesn't object, there may even be some forepaw-hugging action for a little extra protection as she tries to pull him to her non-existent bosom. « Save the wrastling for someone your own size! » Rhody is going to stay on the outskirts of this whole situation, but tiptoeing to get a better look. "You alright in there? Should I call for Ila'den? Or maybe Ajral?" Is a healer needed in the house?

Bouts of encouragement are woefully common. To Glorioth's credit, he's been hitting less hard in the last month or so since he developed an interest in his lifemate's ribs actually healing instead of just telling F'yr that pain is just encouragement, because it is, guys, this is 100% sure and certain if you're Glorioth. The bronze does not appreciate having his encouragement session interrupted, thank you very much. He sits back on his haunches and flicks his tail in irritation, that sword point down his spine swaying. « That is my F'yrocious lifemate you are clutching, you misguided mother-hen. Kindly release him to my tender mercy. » DON'T LISTEN, INA. MERCY ISN'T REAL. HE'S FAR TOO BRAVE FOR MERCY. "I think it's about time to eat, don't you?" the bronze weyrling tries from this new place of protection, "Or… Glorioth, don't you have an itch behind your wing that you can't reach?" Or even, "I think I saw an evil doer doing evil heading for the training grounds." It is, of course, this last that really gets the bronze's attention redirected. « WHERE IS THIS FOE, MY F'YRVENT FRIEND? I SHALL RAIN MY MERCY DOWN UPON HIM. IT. » Whatever. Whoever. The bronze is already charging off back in that direction, with or without company. "I think it's safe to let me go, Ina." The bronze weyrling offers before finally answering Rhody, "I'm okay." He always is, Rhody. Always. "I'm not sure about any strangers in the training grounds right now, but…" That's a problem for a few minutes from now F'yr, not the one standing here and looking to duck out of the gold's embrace.

Insult away, Glorioth. Inasyth is a big girl and she can totally take it as she inhales to try and make herself look even BIGGER. She won't release the precious F'yr, although she will peel back a wing just a smidge so he can shout out his own instructions and the bronze can see she's not like… sitting on him. She's careful, most the time. UNLIKE SOME-DRAGONS. « Finders, keepers, Glorioth! And I'm not misguided! He NEEEEEEEDED ME! » And the shelter of those big, magnificent, barred wings. « Besides. You can just bap at me and it'll pass the encouragement on to him. That's called ohs-may-toe-sis or something! » Close enough. Once the baby bronze is charging off, Inasyth will unclutch F'yr so he can leave if he really wants to, while Rhody ducks under the wing to give a very unceremonious poke at those ribs. "Does that hurt any more than yesterday?" While waiting for an answer, she glances in the direction of the training grounds and shrugs. "Hopefully strangers know better than to lurk around by now. Or can move quickly."

Rhodelia's poke prompts a wheeze and a flinch of his entire face. "It does when you poke it," he complains now to his still-technically-a-co-worker. Then F'yr pokes her ribs. "Does that hurt any more than it did yesterday?" He returns, trying for humor, trying for some flavor of normal. "I'm sure it's going to be fine. He really is mostly letting them heal. Leirith was very helpful." WASN'T SHE JUST. Since these seem to be sort of the results. "I'd better get to following him just to make sure no one gets scared within an inch of their life." Not that Glorioth would actually do that. … right? RIGHT? Oh, move fleetly F'yrsome Companion. The man is looking a little green now, though that may be the flare up of the rib pain in all this. "I'll see you later," isn't a question and it is all at once. It might be code for a check in after the babies are in bed. It has to happen eventually, no matter how Glorioth always protests that he's not even a little tired as his long stretch of wakefulness finally surrenders to total unconsciousness. Unless she seeks to stop him, the young bronzerider will be giving Ina a pat of thanks and Rhody a brief touch to the shoulder that might be silent thanks for her (UNNECESSARY, SAYS GLORI EVEN THOUGH HE'S NOT EVEN HERE ANYMORE, look at that silent communication in action!) concern before he's heading back toward the barracks at a long-gaited walk that's ground-eating without being overly rib-jarring. Maybe he'll arrive in time to save any ne'er-do-well in the wrong place at the wrong time, or just his own pillow. WHICHEVER.

"Nope!" Rhodelia gives a toothy grin as F'yr strikes pokes back. "Sure, mostly. Are you like bathing in numbweed at this point?" At least she doesn't sniff to find out herself. As for the possible disaster in a making, she gives a very dubious raise of the eyebrows before looking back at him, totally sending a completely opposite message from the words about to come out of her mouth. "Nah…. I'm sure they'll be fine." She gives a dismissive shrug. Inasyth will return the pat with the gentlest of boops, while Rhody gives a nod. "Sure, see you tonight. Or for lessons or something." At some point, eventually, they will see each other and maybe there will actually be some sleepy dragons so more than five sentences can be said before damage control must start!

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