Scraps of Beginnings

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.

Airin thought Kay had enough food on the sands, but by the time she helps him get to the barracks…last of course, as he has short leg, big wing and long tail issues, he's hungry…again!

Finding his feet was very difficult, you see, and getting off the sands required guidance and direction for which Zyddagath found unnecessary and demeaning. He can do it himself. Although the human, on the other hand… Kaellian- Ki'lian- isn't that incapable, though there's some part of him that is more lost somewhere in that mindlink, only brought to his senses by the incredible HUNGER that pangs in his own gut. This in and of itself is confusing, where the last meal he'd had- it has been awhile. So much has happened in the past couple of days. So much has come to pass, and yet it seems so little, so insignificant now in the face of the ghastly looking bronze that is no longer staring at him but at the bowl of meats at the table they eventually found. Zyddagath nudges at the bowl with his sharp snout, rattling the thing against the tabletop loudly. Obnoxiously. Demandingly. It's not Ki'lian who is hungry after all. Maybe he is, but not to the degree that MUST be met right now, the rest of the world be damned. Etched tail thrashes back and forth in a singular, displeased motion. Too-obvious is the touch of the bronze's mindvoice across EVERYONE in the barracks. Cold, clammy. Distant. Detached. Dark. That eerie feeling of fear ticking up your spine. If Zyddagath realizes there's no restriction on that vague touch of his immense presence, he doesn't quite care as maw snaps down on the next piece of meat offered. "Bloody hell, watch me fingers."

Tineangrath must still be hungry, because she's the largest of the freshly-hatched dragons and she didn't eat excessively on the sands, but now that they're back in the barracks there are so many new things to distract her. Sure, her tummy is rumbling, but WHAT IS THAT? Her nose is buried in a pile of bedding as she roots around in it, inspecting. Nessalyn just sort of stands there, shell-shocked and too disoriented by the sudden shift in her life to do more than stare at the little gold. There probably should be some encouragement toward eating something, but… nope.

Kayinth really is walking as quickly as he can, spurred on by his hunger, but STEVE keeps getting in his way! He looks behind him at the offending tail, as it has decided to snake off to one side and off balance him. « Steve! Behind me behind me. » Ri..Airin quickly reaches down to shift his tail to a better balance point. "Better?" It must be because Kayinth continues his short legged waddle, headed for the food.

Ki'lian strongly considers just putting the bowl on the ground. Well, he's not entirely sure it's his idea to put that bowl on the floor, but some inkling of reason in the back of his mind- that whisper of sense that has been overwhelmed and rendered almost absent- is there just enough to-. Nope. The man of the sea lifts the meat-container and starts to lower it for Zyddagath's pleasure when a hand of an assistant weyrlingmaster stays his hand. The baby bronze (though how /loathe/ would he be to be called /baby/?) curls the hellfire-charred lips of his muzzle, baring tiny savaged teeth of skeletal face. It almost looks like that reaction is to both his Bonded and the weyrlingstaff that kept him from likely dying of choke. It would have been WORTH IT. Another few pieces are handed down in turn, Ki'lian's gaze absent from the room again, until one might find them both staring at Tineangrath as she roots around in the bedding. Zyddagath rises from his haunches, one tattered wing shaken as if to unstick some of the remnant goo as tongue licks over teeth of the last of the meat-juices. His path takes him past Kayinth and if he almost steps on 'Steve', well, we can blame that on being a hatchling. For now. That presence presses heavier against the young gold.. in curiosity, « You found something? »

Tineangrath whuffles just a little too hard, and her head shoots back suddenly as she lets out about the daintiest little dragon sneeze that one can imagine. Ah-choo! She shakes her head a bit as though startled by the sound, looking to Nessalyn for an answer. "You sneezed. That was a sneeze." The words try to carry a hard edge of them, but she can't maintain it in the face of that curious innocence and instead lapses back into silence. « Everything is a something, » she informs Zyddagath, seemingly oblivious to her brother's darker side. « So yes, I found something. Have you found something? » Unable to - or perhaps simply uninterested in - moderating the extent of her mental reach, that question is offered to the room at large. Has anyone found anything?

Kayinth watches, not perturbed at all, at Zyd's presumption of stepping over Steve. Perhaps it will teach Steve a lesson if the skeleton-ling did indeed step on him. He notes to Tinean, « I found Steve. Or he's found me. And now I shall find some food. » He munchkin walks over to where the food is, finally…and Airin is only too happy to feed him small tidbits of meat. He takes them so gently and with a look of as much adoration for her as she has for him.

Meion really should not have had that extra-strong klah right before the hatching. Really. In her defense, she didn't know she was going to impress an avatar of curiosity. She didn't actually expect to impress at all, now that she can look back on her feelings with the distance of having actually been through the hatching. But. Here she is, and here Euclath… where is Euclath? Right as a look of puzzlement is just threatening to form on her face, there's a blue head peeking up from under the pile of oiling-cloths across the room from her in reply to the gold. «I did! I found - » and then he's looking straight at Meion, though his voice is unmoderated as he asks «What are these?» The little blue sniffs at one, not waiting for an answer, then curiously tries tasting it, recoiling with a scrape of his tongue against mouth. «They aren't food!» he announces, all confidence.

Zyddagath will be interested in finding his own something later. Right now, everyone elses' something should be his, and this needs to be rectified. He's too young for grand scheming, too new out of the shell to hatch a deal (love my puns or else), so the next best thing.. is to just take what he wants. One of the top blankets the gold had displaced in the initial examining is hooked by silver'd talon and dragged towards himself, long skeletal legs not exactly balanced and thus he kind-of stumbles back when he tries to take the blanket. Death become you if you ever speak of this, or any of his short-comings in the next weyrling months. Or ever. He's done a lot of falling today, but the consequence of this is a tearing sound as the blanket ends up with long raggedy slices through it from talons that don't exactly know how (or don't care to) unhook. "I'm sure you can find something better." Ki'lian murmurs quietly, his voice low, rough, tired. Or at least, ruin something more worthwhile than blankets. « And you will decide what is better? »

C'iel is already used to being C'iel. Or maybe it's more like he never wasn't. And as for why he is dragging his feet, he is perhaps LITERALLY dragging his feet as he joins everyone along with his momentarily sated Blue. C'iel with a look of serenity, Ceraudharth of cheerful dignity which is only maintained as long as they take it oh-so-carefully and don't mind the wings occasionally dragging along. "And this is… everyone," Cielo nods, smiling. «Certainly not everyone…» To which Cee's cheeks tint and he murmurs, "Everyone that is here." And another joins the fray.

Oh! Euclath's announcement draws Tineangrath's attention almost immediately. There are other somethings over there. And really, these blankets aren't hers (and she'd share even if they were!), so it doesn't bother her in the least when Zyddagath 'steals' one. She's too busy bounding over toward her blue brother, only her wings are too long and feet become tangled and DOWN SHE GOES. Splat. "If he chose you, I doubt he-" But whatever snide comment Nessalyn is about to make to Ki'lian is cut off when Tineangrath trips, and there's a flash of pure panic across the techcrafter's face. She takes a few steps toward the gold's side, but Tinean is already in the midst of sorting herself out by the time she's there, hovering by her dragon's side awkwardly. Self-awareness has caught up with her, and Ness suddenly realizes the vulnerability of her momentary fear. She takes a step back, forcing herself not to inspect the gold too closely for injury, instead allowing her to make her way closer to Euclath. « Steve is very handsome. » Kayinth isn't forgotten, even if Tineangrath is now invested in these things Euclath has found. « What should we do with them? »

Kayinth understands, already, the trouble with wings. His drape him like an overly long cape, and have been stepped upon repeatedly. Of course that has nothing to do with his stubby legs. No..don't look. His legs are fine. He asks even as he enjoys his meal, « Are you ok? » He looks back at Steve who has decided to snake over in Zyd's direction. « Thank you. But he is misbehaving. Steve, leave him alone. »

Meion calls out from across the room, still not quite used to answering her dragon's voice without using her own voice. "They're rags, it looks like. But I don't know why they're here!" Computercrafters don't spend a lot of time pondering the details of dragon-care, so much of what's in this cavern is an absolute mystery to Meion. Euclath takes the answer in stride. «We'll figure it out!» Is that an answer to Meion, or to Tineangranth? Both? The small blue carefully prods at one of the cloths with a claw, rather like he saw Zyddagath doing to the blankets - and with rather the same result. Glee! Claws can be used to change the world - or, at least, small pieces of it, assuming the change desired is tearing. It will do for now.

"You doubt he could make any error, aye, I know." Ki'lian finishes that for Nessalyn, even as she's taking off to her gold dragonet's side. The man shadows after his bronze a few paces behind, entranced in some way that he doesn't entirely appear aware of the on-goings of the rest of the room. He never really intervenes despite the vague commentary. Despite himself, Zyddagath is caught up in the fact that adding more talons to the blanket does not actually free him from the first, but just continues to add holes and tears and now both his forepaws are caught up in a meshwork of strands that have all but knotted around them both. The bronze uses wicked, uneven teeth to free himself, and pulls so hard with his jaws that when it finally tears fully free of him, it will fly to land on Kayinth, or in the brown's food, or both since it's in a tattered mess of cloth. As for that intruding brown's tail, it doesn't earn his wrath just yet, because he's moving on, head down as if faintly stalking, faceted eyes slowly a'whirl to draw closer to the Euclath and Tineangranth. Observing. Waiting. Playing off the fact he's not made much of an intimidating entity of himself quite yet.

« I'm fine! » Tineangrath watches Euclath for a moment, head cocked to the side as he begins clawing at that blanket. It's fascinating, and she curiously reaches out with one leg to do the same. Riiiiiiiiip. Oh, that's fun! Nessalyn pinches the bridge of her nose, shooting a glare in Ki'lian's direction. That is definitely not what she meant, but she isn't going to waste time correcting him now. There's the more pressing issue of, "You know we're the ones who will have to clean this up once they get tired and pass out…" The change in Tineangrath is almost instantaneous. Claws disengage (or just rip their way free) with the sudden panicked realization that she might have done wrong! Her Nessalyn will have to do extra work because of her! A muscle jumps in the techcrafter's jaw as the young gold draws close, nuzzling her apology.

Ceruadharth watches the cloth sail and curls his own claws down against the floor as he considers what would be good to touch, and what is good enough to simply see. The blue is content to explore for now, though he stares and turns his head to watch Zyddagath watching the others in turn, the dark mask making his expression aaalmost unreadable. Curious. Everything is so CURIOUS. For once, C'iel is not trying quite so hard to find and latch himself onto someone immediately.

Kayinth finally decides he's had enough food, and just in time, as the sad remains of the blanket fall about him. He isn't bothered about it, but as he is full, it is time for a nap. He looks around but sees no spot that might be particuarly warm, and even as Rin works to pluck the shreds of blanket from him, he walks with as much dignity as his short legs…and Steve…allow him, to inspect the various couches. Or at least…that /was/ the plan. As Airin tosses a bit of blanket to the side it catches his eye and he is unable to resist. With an awkward, for now, turn that involves his overly large wings spreading wide, flinging more blanket pieces, he pounces on that particular scrap.

Meion gives a weary nod to Nessalyn at that - but gets a rather different reaction from Euclath than the gold gave. Up pops the inquisitive head, looking Meion-ward. «Should I stop?» And a little head-shake from the computercrafter. "If you're going to claw something, that's one of your better options." Oil-soaked cloths are, at least, plentiful and easily replaced. «What shouldn't I claw?» And then Meion is in for it, with her head sinking into her hands. After a pause: "Um. Lots of things. Ask before trying?" That's probably optimistic - and she probably wouldn't be able to manage it herself, in his stead - but it's the best she can manage.

Ki'lian finally lets his gaze and mind stray from the focus of his bronze, taking in more of the room than the tunnelvision granted to him by the violent pleasure of the dragonet in his feeding frenzy and exploration. He determines that, yes, this spot right here is fine. The place he picks is selected for the proximity of it. The usefulness of the fact that he only needs to stray a few paces and he can sit himself on the bed there. The cot creaks beneath him, and his elbows set on his thighs where he leans forwards, looking like he'd just swam for hours trying to make landfall (who knows, perhaps he had). It likely won't be his final resting spot, considering it has one of the smaller dragon wallows, but it's going to be good enough for the night, because it's unlikely he's going to move unless someone makes him. Zyddagath just.. stands there for awhile. Watching. For a few heartbeat's time, it's like he barely needs to breathe, he's so still. The only thing that appears to budge are those oversized wings that slowly.. so slowly.. fall until their ragged edges rest on the ground, as if they're too much to keep holding up at his sides to avoid tripping on them yet again. « You won't discover much if you must ask before trying everything. » In the faint rush of tainted water that makes up his mindvoice, there's humor- a similarity to his Bonded that will only become ever-more obvious. There's a snort before he turns, though he seems to surprise himself by it, shaking his head as if to make it go away. Then he's joining Ki'lian. On the bed, not in the dragon couch. More blankets with more holes. He curls around the man, tail ending up across his lap.

C'iel knows ONE thing that the dragons shouldn't claw and—ahh, he catches that thought like a butterfly before it gets away. That does not stop Ceruadharth from going still and nearly bolting himself to the floor while clumsily curling a a wing-end around his legs. The blue even SNAPS suddenly at a scrap that sails their way. Space open, space closed, the little floor-circle around the pair getting almost foreboding for a moment. 'til C'iel leans down and reaches out with a hand to compare nail to claw. «Oh. Ooh. No, you're not going to get a lot done with these.» Thus he will have to make sure to make up for mankind's puny claws, so he decides. The dragonhealer peeks over at Nessa and shakes his head. "I'll clean up." «We'll clean up.» "I don't mind, really. Plus I don't think sleep is in my future for a bit…" Almost as if in response, the Blue starts eyeing couches.

Nessalyn rests an uncertain hand on Tineangrath's hide, still somewhat bewildered by the young dragon's mere existence, not to mention the unfettered affection the gold seems to have for her. "It's fine," is murmured in a low tone, before she sort of elbows the gold to go rejoin her blue brother. There are probably worse things than picking up a few torn scraps, especially when it seems to bring Tinean such pure delight. Even Nessalyn doesn't want to entirely douse the flame of that curiosity so soon, not when she's still charmed by everything that Tinean is. "Probably if you see Kael-" Nope, that's not right. "Whatever his new name is, if you see his dragon doing it, it's probably a bad idea." She offers this to both Tineangrath and Euclath as a suggestion, jerking her thumb in Zyddagath's direction. "I don't really care if you clean up or not, I was mostly thinking about me," she admits to Cielo, shrugging. (But Tineangrath cares! She cares about ALL OF YOU.)

Meion finds one of the smallest couches, and settles herself down on a cot next to it. She hadn't meant to sleep quite so soon, but as she stretches out the cot is making a hard-to-refute argument for the beauty of rest. And that very-strong klah she had is wearing off, and there's this unfaimilar sense in her head… She laughs a little, and the very strong thought comes to her mind - Euclath. You've never slept, have you? You come try it, it's great. In her sleepy haze, she doesn't actually manage to say it - but there's the sleek blue coming up alongside her anyhow, inquisitive. «Is that what you're doing?» He hops up on the cot, curled near Meion's head, and starts trying very hard to sleep. Thankfully, Meion provides an excellent example, and - after a brief mental shout of «Hey, you should try sleeping!» more-or-less aimed to Tinean and Ceru - Euclath even manages to actually try it himself. What dreams may come, with dragon and rider barely-able to keep thoughts apart? Morning may provide that answer, but for now, the experiment needs to be conducted.

Airin is amused by Kayinth's pounce, and has a seat on the nearest couch, just so she can watch. But his hunt done, and tummy full, Kayinth wants that nap. And he wants it….on his lifemate. Rin is in for, perhaps, not the most comfortable sleep, as he curls up in her lap like a rather large feline. She's not all that big, and though for a brown, neither is he, it still forces her to lay down on the couch. He wraps that long tail around himself and covers them both with those wings. He rests his head against her shoulder and promptly drops off to sleep. As any cat owner knows…one must never disturb the cat. Ever. So it seems she is done for the night whether it was her intention or not. Smiling fondly she caresses his head, fingers tracing in loving amazement the patterns she finds there and to the 'mane' about his neck. Somewhere in there, she falls asleep too. Not really because she's tired, but because he is.

With an already-large bronze hatchling on the complaining cot, it may be that neither man nor beast wants to move for sake of the legs of it giving out. As it is, one of Zyddagath's back legs hangs off, the digits and curled talons rested on the ground there, forgotten. Ki'lian never lays down, just leans back instead of on his forearms. At some point, his eyes close. At some point, that leads to sleep. When exactly that line is passed, it's impossible to say… except for the way that Zyddagath's eyes finally lid, extinguishing the presence of that wrathful orange-red that breathes some essence of life into his deathly, corroded frame. The dragonet may be well rested tomorrow, but the man is bound to be more sore than he already is, stuck in a position such as that against the unpleasant curves and edges of his darkness-bound young dragon.

Ceru responds to Euclath with an almost-flutter of wings. «In a moment, promise.» And C'iel smiles and shrugs to Nessa in turn, before going to picks up scraps, threads, and whatever errant debris he can find. Ceru helps. Sort of. With his usual slow deliberateness, the occasional (and admittedly too satisfying) stab of claw to pick up a larger piece. Really, it's not THAT much of a mess yet. Whatever happens after they turn in, though, that can't be helped. A new life with a new lifemate and he only seems ~more~ insistent on butting in and making himself useful. The collection goes… somewhere, neat. He's sure to remember later when the Blue is not strongly compelling him towards one of the couches, adjacent Meion, perhaps. Later, they will need to find a proper roost, with a proper view that makes it easy to look out over all their siblings and friends. "It's… not quite sand…" «But it will do.»

Tineangrath returns to clawing at the cloth for a moment longer after the other debris has been picked up, fascinated by the way it falls apart now that permission has been granted. But once she understands it, well, it loses some charm, and the oddly-proportioned gold noses at the ruined cloth before picking it up gingerly and carrying it over to Nessalyn in her mouth. "Thanks," the techcrafter mutters dryly, balling the ruined material up in her hand. It looks as though she might toss it… but no. She holds on to it as she moves over to their designated sleeping area, finding a spot to squirrel away this odd momento of their first night. SHE'S NOT SENTIMENTAL, YOU'RE SENTIMENTAL. And then, still slightly hesitant, Ness will move to join Tineangrath on the largest couch the room has to offer, sitting with one hand upon that golden hide until they both drift off to sleep.

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