[Log] Warnings
Who: Aivey, Cassiel, Derek, E'sere, Islay, J'lor, K'tric, L'vok, M'cay, P'dian, Riseli, Shanti
When: Day 24, Month 10, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Beach, Western Islands; Weyrling Clearing, Western Islands
What: Cassiel returns, badly damaged, to the exiles.
On a Western Island, Beach
The island's south-facing beach is long and narrow, tapering in broad curves to the east and west. The grey sand slopes up toward a short, rocky precipice. The cliff is about the height of a tall man, and several paths have been worn or cut into it. They lead to the treeline of a tropical forest, tall and shadowy even in the brightest sunshine.
Three islets are visible to the south, separated from the big island by relatively calm and shallow sea. The two nearest islet frames the silhouette of the farthest one and could be reached by capable swimmers. The third islet is far beyond the other two, a mere shape visible out to sea. Boats await at the shoreline for fishing and travel to the islets.
In the dry season, the tropical island can truly be viewed as a haven. The weather is warm to hot; green flourishes everywhere and is peppered by various other vibrant colors. Sun stretches over the island during the day, and bright stars wink down at night. The cool winds blow and swirl, providing a pleasing counterpoint to the heat.
Obvious Exits:
Training Clearing (TC) Narrow Path (NP)
It's late morning, the sun shining down on the sand and water, and a pair of weyrlings are settled near the tide with their newly impressed dragons. The bluerider and weyrlingmaster-in-a-pinch J'lor comes gliding on his Vellath from his weyr, the blue setting down lightly in the sand a few meters away from the weyrlings and lifting his head high as his rider dismounts. The broadcast goes out to all of the hatchlings: it's time for one of those oh-so-popular reading lessons. Those who cannot are expected to come learn. Those who can are expected to come help teach. No ifs, ands, or buts. J'lor is sitting down, crosslegged, in the sand, Vellath settling himself behind his rider with a low and lazy rumble.
M'cay scrambles hastily to his feet when J'lor and Vellath arrive, with Tenzinth rising shortly after. Glancing to L'vok to see if he's going, the pair head towards the older rider and the blue. M'cay lifts his hand to salute sharply, and his dragon rumbles a hello. Hesitating a moment longer M'cay walks closer, "Morning, sir," he says, lowering his salute.
E'sere is one of those who can. As one of the best-educated exiles, and as someone always eager for a hand in the weyrlings, he's been quick to volunteer his services and is on his way down to the beach now, stride jaunty as Morelenth keeps pace overhead. The bronze lands nearby in the sand, rumbling toward the other dragons, while E'sere hails them with a lifted hand, finishing his approach.
Islay is one of those who can read, and fishing will be set aside for the time being. They weren't biting anyway, so she heads toward the beach, intent on doing her duty. Not that she's had much practice reading in the past few turns, but she knows her letters and can write. Watching the blue dragon land, she pauses, then doggedly comes up the beach toward J'lor and at least two weyrlings, one of which she recognizes as L'vok. The other is unknown to her, but she nods a greeting, and also adds a, "Morn'in', sir," to the bluerider.
The summons draws Shanti from where she was finishing feeding Toth; the little green is notable missing as she makes her way towards the pseudo-weyrlingmaster sitting in the sand. With a crooked, impish smile she drops down into the sand nearby. "Good timing, old man. Toth had just decided that a nap was in order."
It's a broad-band transmission, to say the least. The rage, the panic, the PAIN. Chiavelth emerges from between above the island, shrieking her protest, pale and almost grey from a lack of food, and spreading her feelings about the matter as loudly as she can. Images are spread to dragon minds, of pain and blood and violation, but the outrage is tangible even to the unimpressed, much as a flight rouses the blood. The green seems to be in a hurry to land, weak wings driving her towards the sands of the beach at a breakneck pace. Between her ridges there is a form, but whoever it is doesn't seem to be moving much.
L'vok nods at M'cay and turns towards J'lor, moving towards him with his brown as well. Seems like the little chat is over for now and he smiles at M'cay. "Morning, J'lor." L'vok is one of thos who knows the basics and a little more, so can help the beginners, but needs help with the more advances reading and writing. Especially writing more clearly.
"Sirs and old mans," J'lor moans with a headshake, "Doesn't anybody use names anymore? Perhaps that's what we should--" PAIN. Vellath is up on his feet, wings spread, eyes flashing red and whirling quickly. His rider is fast to follow, head turning towards the sky and the screaming dragon that plunges downward. "Cass..." the name is just a whisper. He's running towards where the green looks to land, Vellath gliding past him, weyrlings and reading lessons utterly forgotten.
And as quick as she sat down, Shanti is back up. Pale and shaking now, her eyes are closed, sending reassurance to the little green of hers; Toth, at the first hint of the pain, has forgotten her nap and comes charging for Shanti,wings wobbling along as she does so. As they reassure each other of who it's not - Riseli, J'lor, P'dian - all tallied with the flick of an eye, before they think to look up and see the approaching pair and isolate them as the source. "Shards." Shanti says, in a tense voice as she rests a hand on Toth.
Morelenth's head jerks upward at the transmission, even as E'sere's steps falter and he look upward, too, eyes narrowing. Rather than the group of weyrlings, he glances at the bronze and steps to his side, even while he continues watching the green. Already, his crisis face has descended, masking his feelings in neutrality. "Morelenth," he says simply, an unspoken request to the dragon. And then, after one more look to the green descending, he heads toward the weyrlings, leaving J'lor to chase the hurt arrival.
M'cay pales and cowers against Tenzinth at the arrival of the green. While he wants to hang back, his dragon tries to run forward, gawky and not graceful on the ground. Tenzinth heads for the source of the pain, hoping to help in some way. M'cay clenches his fists and then runs after, calling for him to come back.
Morelenth> To Chiavelth: Morelenth offers no questions now, only contact, as warm and comforting as he can make it, and maintains that sensation even when his overt attention turns to others.
Islay at first smiles at J'lor's comment, then blinks as his dragon suddenly rises and looks angry. And then J'lor's running toward another dragon, a green she recognizes. Turning quickly, she watches J'lor running but has no idea what she should or shouldn't do. So, like E'sere, she turns to the weyrlings, concern etched on her face. "What --?" Questions, but no time for answers.
L'vok blinks as Benreth gets the wave of pain and is next to the young brown, calming him as he glances up to the direction J'lor is headed and the green. The brown is definitely seeking his lefemates support as L'vok tries to steady and calm him. The once guard is speaking in hushed tones, trying to calm his brown, reassuring him.
Morelenth> To Tenzinth, Benreth, and Toth: Morelenth's voice is sharp, commanding--not his usual warm tones for the moment. << Weyrlings. Stay back, please--let us older ones help. >> Then, reassuring: << It is okay; she will be okay when they can see her. >>
Morelenth> To Kasvatuth: Morelenth says quickly, voice sharp, << Kasvatuth! Tell yours to hurry--bring his healer supplies. Chiavelth. >>
Shanti has just taken a few steps towards the descending pair, quickly in J'lor's wwake, when ommand comes from the blue and she and Toth stop. Still, they watch keenly, the little greens eyes whirling in worry and distress.
Morelenth> Kasvatuth, confused, upset, still manages a burst of affirmation that tints her thoughts rose, along with an image of K'tric, coming out of the infirmary now at full speed.
Morelenth> Tenzinth's mind is chords of dissonance overlaid over a confusing jumble of dark colors, << I wish to help, >> he says firmly. But as things begin to calm around him his mind relents, and he backs off, deferring to Morelenth's judgment.
Tenzinth stumbles to a stop when a mental command reaches him. Turning, he walks back towards the other weryrlings with M'cay fussing over him. Still, his eyes whirl with grey and red. "I'm sorry," M
Morelenth> To Tenzinth: Morelenth, his mind still heated, answers in a kinder tone, << Help us by staying here. Keep your siblings calm, too; that helps as well. >>
Morelenth> Tenzinth, eager for something to do, leaps on that suggestion. His mind breaks contact as he seeks to calm the others.
Chiavelth plummets towards the sand, and it's already clear that she isn't likely to land well. She barely manages to bank away from the gathering of weyrlings, and there's a spray of sand nearly to her shoulders when she stumbles on her landing. More pain is shared, and the images that flicker from one mind to another are jumbled, the impressions fuzzy, as though even they are shielded from the green's mind, little as it helps. The hard landing is even harder on the rider, and there's a sharp cry from her back, though no motion.
Tenzinth stumbles to a stop when a mental command reaches him. Turning, he walks back towards the other weryrlings with M'cay fussing over him. Still, his eyes whirl with grey and red. "I'm sorry," M'cay stammers, nervously rubbing his dragon's hide. "You really shouldn't have done that," he whispers to the dragon. Tenzinth snorts softly and turns to watch the green keenly. When she lands heavily his body gives one twitch, and then is still again.
Kasvatuth> Tenzinth's mind isn't exactly entirely calm, but it's steady, << They say she will be alright, >> he reassures.
Kasvatuth> To Tenzinth: Kasvatuth's thoughts aren't calm, exactly: there's an underlying worry to them, but she seeks to bury it for the well-being of the bronze. << My K'tric is a healer; he will make her all right, >> she agrees, coloring her tones with cheerful pastels.
Kasvatuth> Tenzinth cautions, << Ask before you let him go though. They told us to stay back. So I do not know...Ask Vellath. >>
Kasvatuth> To Tenzinth: Kasvatuth is still calm and reassuring, noting, << Morelenth asked for mine to come, to help her. It is okay. >>
Kasvatuth> Tenzinth is pleased, << Excellent. >>
Shanti may not be allowed to approach, but that doesn't stop her dragon from doing her best to help. Distressed she may be, but her base personality will always win out, and she is sending thoughts of strength and support to the old green, a wave of soothing light comprising her voice. Shanti is kneeling by Toth now, watching with an arm around the dragonet's neck.
L'vok almost blanches when the green hits the sand as he reassures his brown more and has his back turned some towards the spray of sand. "Yes, we stay here for now. We'll only get in the way..." he tells his brown and whispers more to him.
There's no doubt there's an injured person aboard the green, and Islay peers at the incoming until she's forced to turn away from the sand thrown up by her hard landing. She turns toward Chiavelth almost instinctively, not really knowing what she could do to help, but more than willing to try. But, then, there are others to consider, and she's torn between staying and running to where help may be needed. So, she does the best thing, and remains there, between the weyrlings and the trouble. Her hand goes instinctively to the knife in the sheath at her hip, if only to make sure it's still there.
J'lor is reaching up as soon as he can, grabbing for the limp figure on Chiavelth's back, fingers seeking straps. "Get a healer!" the bluerider shouts, his normally warm and rolling voice elevated into a bellow. "And meat for her green!" Vellath is slinking, crooning, eyes red and orange and spinning at a frantic pace as he attempts to inch closer to the smaller and grey-tinged Chiavelth.
E'sere seems to have taken it upon himself to shepherd the weyrlings caught up in the mess, coming to a halt near the group. "Everyone all right?" he asks, keeping his voice calm and reassuring, resisting the urge to look around at the green. Morelenth is watching that much for him at least. "Keep them calm--you remember how to block your emotions from transferring, right? Morelenth." A look to the bronze; he's already taking flight again at J'lor's order.
From the main settlement comes another weyrling: K'tric, running, with Kasvatuth stumbling in his wake as he heads straight for Cassiel and J'lor. "I'm here. What happened, what's going on? I came as fast as I could," he says as he skids up to a stop, healer-trained eyes already studying the woman on the dragon. Kasvatuth catches up then, but at a caution from her rider stays back a few feet, at least, her eyes whirling a rapid yellow.
Tenzinth picks up on his green sister's idea and adds his reassurance and strength to hers, projecting it to Chiavelth. Looking around he spots one lone fish trapped in the fishing net they had been working with earlier. Whipping his head around he bugles to Morelenth. Here's food!
Morelenth> To Vellath: Morelenth clips his words now, voice heated as he notes, << I will hunt for her. >>
Shanti is tense next to Toth, and looks up at E'sere with a frown. "Ours, yes, but they're sending enough out to make it rather moot." She turns her gaze back to J'lor and Cassiel, eyes narrowed with concern as she wordlessly soothes her own dragon, while Toth continues her own outpouring of emotion. "Shh, Toth, dunno that she's gonna hear you just now." Shanti murmers softly.
Morelenth> Vellath projects, << Yes! Good Quickly! >> Relief that he can stay. Annoyance that he cannot be the provider. But mostly unhappiness. << I will keep her here. >>
Meat? Fish! Yes, Islay knows where there are fish waiting to be cleaned. The camp cooks won't like it, no, but she knows there a morning's catch at the settlement. In a flash, she's off and running, up the path toward the camp. "I'll get some, J'lor!" she cries, running past K'tric as he arrives, disappearing in a matter of moments.
Derek cannot have been far away. But he comes down the path that leads down from the weyrling clearing, of all places, at an unhurried pace. He has no apparent mind for what's on his heels - only an eye, steely and grey, for what lies ahead. He stops up on a sandy shelf, a few feet above the beach, where grasses and rock keep a tiny cliff from collapsing. His gaze is drawn swiftly, of course, to the weary green, and a single nod tips his chin. "Now we know," he murmurs, for his own benefit or perhaps a shadow's. Then it's the rest of the assembled he's got eyes for, and who else would he fix a bead on but the newest-arrived bronzerider. That bead is a narrow one, and the leader's moustache twitches, but for a moment - knowing - he keeps his post.
Cassiel is curled in a careful ball on Chiavelth's back, her hair fallen around her face. "J'lor," she murmurs, voice hoarse as the bluerider approaches. "You are the dumbest man I have ever known." Her left arm is held close to her chest, but she makes an effort to push her hair from her face with her right hand, revealing a split lip, a black eye, and various cuts and bruises. Not to mention what looks like a broken nose. "Careful," she says then. "I- I don't know if I can get down."
L'vok snorts at E'sere and nods at Shanti's response, "Yes, I can block mine. Benreth wants to help though and I've told him not to." He strokes the brown's nack and glances at M'cay to see if the boy is doing okay and nods at him.
Not being a weyrling, or even having a dragon attached to her head, what brings Aivey to the beach is the island leader who was spotted and doggedly followed. As the scene on the beach comes into view, she stops just long enough to take a quick study of the gray-green and her rider before looking back to Derek whose path she more slowly closes in on. She's in time to catch his murmur, or maybe she just greets him with those assumptions she's quite fond of. Either way, a quiet murmur of, "It's bad," is her greeting to her father.
M'cay is pale to say the least, but relying on Tenzinth's stability and support to keep him from passing out or being sick.
Chiavelth's eyes whirl red still as she stretches her nose towards Vellath, a low whine coming from the green. The anger is still there, the panic, but she's broadcasting on a narrower signal now, at least /trying/ not to bludgeon the weyrlings with her feelings.
As the greenrider's state comes to view, the reaction in Shanti is obvious. Eyes narrow, reflecting now the anger creeping into Toth's whirling eyes. "So she didn't flee to better pastures." She says to the dragonet. "Knew it was gonna get ugly." She glances at E'sere then, and then over to M'cay and some of the other kidnapped boys and their dragons.
"It could be worse," Derek points out without cheer. "They haven't done lasting harm to the animal as far as I can see." Maybe only Aivey would understand without pause what the island leader refers to so simply. "Your dragonrider's making a lord of himself."
For the insult, Cassiel is awarded a weak smile as J'lor works to undo her straps. "Yes you can," he says softly. "I'll help you. Come here. You can't hit me if you're way up there." He's half climbing and half-reaching to pull the girl into his arms. Careful of that curled arm of her own, dark eyes taking in her face, the wounds. But the tiny smile holds, stiff and stubborn. The others, poor others, are left to do what he asks without getting checked in on just yet.
Vellath touches muzzles with Chiavleth, warbles again, rubbing his head frst along her nose and then under her chin, and then along her throat. A tactile reminder that his friend is back. Is here.
"Good, that's good," E'sere continues, nodding to Shanti, still as even of voice and expression as if this were just a casual object lesson for the weyrlings' benefit. "As long as you can separate yourselves from them, you can keep them calm." To L'vok: "Thank you. With J'lor and K'tric, I think they can manage, for now. It's more important you deal with your dragons just yet."
"We'll get you down," is K'tric's reassurance, the weyrling's voice softening as he slips seamlessly into healer mode. Kasvatuth hovers behind him while he approaches, nearly quivering with repressed energy. "We should get her to the infirmary--I've more supplies there, and it's out of sight," K'tric says, teeth setting to his lower lip while he watches J'lor help the greenrider down.
L'vok glances at the green and her rinder as he reassures Benreth some more and nods at Shanti, "Me too. Just wasn't sure when." He glances at M'cay then, asking, "You doing okay there?"
"Not that I can see," Aivey's nod is subtle, small, maybe even accomodating the shift in her stance. She does glance toward E'sere upon the later of Derek's words, "He's in his element. Did you expect different?" Then, it's back to J'lor and Cassiel, a moment's silence before, "It's going to be a rough few days, now."
M'cay's eyes widen when he sees more of her injures, "She was attacked?" he whispers the question to L'vok. "Why? Who is she? Who would do that to someone?" He watches K'tric a little nervously, shifting his weight with his hand tapping out a nervous rhythm on Tenzinth's shoulder. Tenzinth turns his attention fully to his rider then, rumbling softly. M'cay takes a deep breath and nods, lending and taking support from the young dragon.
It takes longer to get back to the beach with a basket of fish than it did to get to the settlement. Her ears still ringing from the shouts of an angry cook, and threats of dire punishment. But, Islay doesn't care. She'll deal with that afterwards. The fish may only be a small token for the grayish green, but it's at least something. So, she lugs it back, hurrying as fast as she can with the load, half dragging it back to the beach. And then she wades through the sand, making a slow, awkward progress toward where J'lor and K'tric are helping Cassiel down from Chiavelth. Winded, panting, the basket is dropped about halfway there, and she's scrambling to gather fish that have fallen from the basket. Everyone and everything is ignored but her chosen task.
The anger doesn't fade from Shanti's expression as she turns towards E'sere. "We're fine, J'lor has taught us well. But thank you for your concern." There is scorn and dismissal in the girl's tone, clearly resentful of the newcomers interference. Her words spoken, she nods to L'vok. "Sooner, knew it would be sooner. Wonder what'll be next?" From within the circle of her arms, Toth's croon escapes again towards the hurting dragon and her rider.
Cassiel holds back a sob as J'lor starts to lift her, though the sound of a cry still escapes her throat. "Ribs," she whimpers. "Shoulder, fingers, ah!" The greenrider cries out again, flinching from the touch. "Back," she hisses through her teeth. A wild-eyed look is cast towards K'tric, and then towards J'lor, pleading. "Not him. I want E'hran's woman, the healer." It's only with stiff, slow motions that she manages to start to climb down, and her own weakness is obvious.
Within a few minutes, Morelenth is back, too, the bronze carrying a pair of goats carefully in his jaws. He lands as close to Chiavelth as he can, extending his neck to drop the food in front of the green. He croons, comforting as he can, as he takes up a protective post near, close but not crowding.
Morelenth> To Chiavelth: Morelenth maintains his earlier warmth, as comforting as he knows how to be as he ecourages the green, << Eat. Let Kasvatuth's help, just for now. >>
"His element's leading weyrlings?" Derek pops up one side of his moustache in a smirk that looks nothing at all like it could be happy, and tilts a severe gaze over at Aivey. He's quiet a moment, then looks down, then bends his knees and hops down. "Distract him," he suggests - well, it could be said to have the tone of a suggestion - and starts into the fray.
L'vok nods at Shanti, "Yes, so it seems. Sooner it is." He turns to M'cay then and whispers to the boy, "She disappeared after returning some of the boys. So, it probably was some from the Weyrs not happy with their disappearance. Looks like they wanted some answers." From they looks of the greenrider, it can be seen how they tried to get those answers.
J'lor's hands finch back as Cassiel flinches away and he hovers, waiting, teeth gritting ever tighter as each new injury is listed. He looks over his shoulder to take in the scene and the one that Cassiel is rejecting. To K'tric J'lor asks, calm and solemn, "Can you find her? E'hran's...the Healer." And then he notes Islay and the returning bronze. "There's food for Chiavelth. We should get you to the infirmary. Easy, Cass, easy now."
As food arrives, Vellath tucks himself close to Chiavelth's side, just enough back that he won't interfere with it arriving or with her eating.
M'cay shakes his head slowly, his mouth forming soundless words. His whole world is being turned upside down. On the one hand, he can see how the Weyrs would be angry and want answers. But violence? He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few more deep breaths before looking around - anywhere but at the green. He nods slightly to L'vok.
Aivey doesn't have the opportunity to respond to her father. She frowns softly as she watches Derek head off, before she follows him down, though heads toward E'sere. A look over her shoulder to her father is all that passes, before she puts his activities to the back of her mind and approaches the bronzerider coralling the weyrlings. "How about we get them back, E'sere? Away from here," From behind him comes such a suggestion, with Aivey appearing near his shoulder moments later.
It's hurt that flashes across K'tric's face, the former healer just staring up at Cassiel. He hardly even hears J'lor; it takes a croon from Kasvatuth to bring his gaze around to the bluerider. "I--yeah--yes," he fumbles, though it takes him another moment to get moving, telling Kasvatuth, "Stay here, please, Kas." Then, he turns, and sets off again for the settlement, at a less frantic pace than his initial arrival.
E'sere, for his part, offers Shanti a wry, forced smile, nodding. "Fair enough--I know that. Forgive me if I'm a little redundant at the moment," he says. Then, half-turning: "Aivey." He sounds a touch surprised for the first time. He looks at her, then back toward the scene, and--ah. There's Derek. "Orders from Derek?" he says then, giving Aivey a Look, before glancing back to the weyrlings. "Well."
Gasping for breath, Islay brings the basket close enough that Chiavelth can reach it easily, then backs away as the bronze brings in more meat. She stumbles backwards, her legs aching with the run, and her side cramping. She wraps an arm around her midsection and stops to just breathe as Cassiel is lifted gently down from the dragon. When K'tric's told to fetch the other healer, she gasps out, "She's ... back at ... the camp ... last I saw ... her." How long ago that was is anyone's guess, but at least it's a place for him to start looking. "Is ... is she going to ... be all right?" she asks no one in particular.
L'vok nods slowly at M'cay as he glances at Shanti and then E'sere. He looks around at the other Weyrlings making sure they're okay, but not really saying much for now.
Chiavelth doesn't look like she wants to eat, but the presence of the goats is too much temptation. Instinct and hunger win out over fear and concern, and she turns ravenously into the delivered food even as Cassiel slides off the green's shoulder. The greenrider barely makes it to the ground before she's stumbling into J'lor, crying out again and biting down hard on her lower lip. "Get me out of here," she whispers to the bluerider. "I can't stand the watching."
M'cay glances to E'sere and Aivey, blinking a few times. He waits for orders one way or the other, not wanting to stand out for the moment. He looks to Tenzinth and his eyes unfocus before he looks up sharply, as if expecting more dragons to appear.
Shanti nods curtly to the bronzerider, but makes no move to move away from where she is. Her gaze watches the scene with rapt attention, as if commiting every detail of the green's return to memory - which she very much is.
Among the weyrling dragonets curious enough to inch near is Rodhaketh. Silly thing. He comes behind a fish that's managed to slide out of the green's reach. With a timid motion, he flicks his nose forward, sending the slithering thing flying toward the pile set out for Chiavelth. After, he slinks back to the patch of gawking youths and stands beside a resolutely quiet, crestfallen P'dian.
Once Derek's almost through the group he turns around and looks from this closer, if not better, view. His gaze is unerring in finding a focus on Cassiel. Her words, naturally, he can't pick up, so he keeps looking, and the longer he looks the darker he gets. A hand balls by his hip, then springs open in a violent clawing and closes again. But for now he's just quiet, hardly a leader at all, letting the crisis unwind itself before him.
"More like keeping certain people from becoming too upset by what's over thataway," A mild gesture of Aivey's head behind her indicates what she doesn't in words, and then she's studying the weyrlings anew, "Did you take a head count? Make sure nothings happened? None of them are missing?" Not suggesting much of anything there, she then adds a quieter whisper: "Show yourself capable, E'sere, get in while you can."
By now some of the other riders have come. About ten of them, six with dragons (four greens, a blue and a brown), to stare, wide-eyed at the crowds. "What the shells--" this from a short black-hired man. "It's Cassiel." "It's...it is. Chiavleth looks like sh-" "Shut up," the fourth elbows the third in the ribs. "J'lor, what do we-?"
"See E'sere. He's watching the weyrlings. All of you! Back to the clearing. I'll follow shortly. Listen to E'sere and the others until I'm back." Dark eyes find the bronzerider and narrow slightly. Don't screw this up. Then J'lor's turning back to Cassiel. "Can you walk?" he murmurs, "How do I lift you so it hurts the least, if you can't?"
Islay is finally able to stand upright after a few minutes of calm breathing. At that point, she moves backwards again, giving J'lor and Cassiel plenty of room to pass. The bluerider seems to have everything pretty much under control, and so she sidles back -- but doesn't turn away. Oh, no. Her eyes are riveted at J'lor. And then to Derek as he appears. There's a worried expression on her face now, and not just for the injured rider. No, it's not just concern. It's downright fear. Catching the orders from J'lor, Islay glances toward E'sere. "The reading class..." She murmurs. Maybe just carrying on with what is planned might be best for all concerned. So, she heads toward the weyrlings, approaching E'sere. "I can help teach reading an' writing," she says, her voice trying hard to sound normal.
For a moment there is rebellion on Shanti's face. But it's J'lor asking, and so this once she listens, turning Toth towards the mountain clearing and guidinger her int hat direction. "Yes, J'lor." She says, stressing the name. She looks to the other weyrlings witha a small nod, urging them on.
The other healer arrives soon; K'tric doesn't return with her. Kasvatuth, looking worried, heads off after him after a couple more minutes.
E'sere, though, is looking over the weyrlings again, even while he nods to Aivey and her whispering. "All of them that were down here. Morelenth is contacting the others, checking on them." As he turns to nod to J'lor, soberly, he takes in the scene with Cassiel again, then looks back to the weyrlings. "All right, let's head back. Islay, thank you--" He waves the islander over to join the group, while he sets the weyrlings to moving.
Derek allows a slim smile to narrow his eyes. J'lor's order draws his gaze to E'sere, then to certain of the weyrlings: L'vok and M'cay get special note. Still he says nothing, and moves less, waiting.
P'dian steps in beside Shanti, mossy greens still pointed toward the injured woman. "But I wanted to help her.." He says quietly, voice shielded by Shanti's body as, reluctant, the boy turns, placing a hand on the bronze neck beside him.
"Right shoulder," Cassiel murmurs to J'lor, drawing in a deep breath as she tries to straighten to put her left arm around the bluerider's shoulders. "We're gonna be fine," she calls out in a hoarse voice, trying to force a smile through thick lips. "We're home, we'll heal. Everyone just...Thank you for your concern, but we'll be okay." The short speech seems to take most of the energy out of her, and her weight falls heavy on J'lor.
M'cay rests a hand on Tenzinth and casts one more look skyward before he nods at E'sere. He's ready to be herded about like a goat at this point, mind full with all that's happened, plus the implications of what might be coming. He catches Derek looking at him and flinches. Uh-oh. Did he do something wrong?
L'vok nods at J'lor, and starts doing as he's asked, but frowns some at the mention of E'sere. "Yes, J'lor." He starts motioning to the Weyrlings he knws to back to the Training Center, and watches M'cay go as well before he himself returns. He notes Derek finally and nods at him when he gets the chance and raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
Aivey doesn't move with the weyrlings. She stays planted where she's at, watching them for a short while before she turns to head back the way she came, stopping only come Cassiel's speech, to watch her briefly then to once more set off to places unknown.
There are moments when what's called for is simple doing. Having heard E'sere, Islay nods, outwardly calm, but shaking to pieces inside. "I'll help," she says simply, and tries to make her leaden feet move toward the clearing. Seeing Shanti, she offers the girl a smile -- albeit a faint one. "Toth all right?" she asks the girl. "Everyone all right?" she then asks, looking at M'cay and L'vok. That worried expression is still there, though, and it's obvious she's ... well, maybe not as all right as she'd like everyone to think she is.
Shanti nods to P'dian, "We all do, Padi, but all we can do now is what J'lor tells us, to get out of the way." A speculative glance at E'sere, and then back. "Though I don't know that I like some that seek to fill his shoes." She says, in a much quieter voice for the boy next to her. Louder, "C'mon, guys, it'll be fine here." She looks to Islay as she walks and nods. "TOth is, rest of us seem to be getting by ok. How about you? Good job witht he fish-fetching. Hope she doesn't choke on a bone." A poor attempt at lightening the mood for at last one person.
M'cay shrinks a bit under all the attention and shuffles along after the rest. Tenzinth turns one last time to gaze at the green and her rider, before doing as he's asked. When he's bigger...oh, when he's bigger no one will be able to stop him from helping.
His arms come around Cassiel now and J'lor bends down a bit, grunting softly at the new weight suddenly leaning up against him. "Right shoulder," he repeats, his hands instead trying to settle, lower and light, on the arm. "You set the pace, I'll come with you." He's quiet a moment as they begin to set out, turning once to look back over his shoulder as the weyrlings start to get shuttled by the ten native riders and one foreign bronze. He looks, too, to Aivey, and then there is a long moment where his eyes meet Derek's, before the gaze breaks and he's back to looking ahead. "I rigged up a pulley. For the fish net. It wasn't as difficult as I'd worried it would be. The tricky part was finding a way to keep the wheels secure but mobile. Then I thought..." the rider's voice rolls, low and easy and a gentle cadence as he speaks of trivialities. The female healer falls into step beside them, watching Cassiel as she moves. Assessing her injuries.
Morelenth> To Kasvatuth: Morelenth allows some of the concern to seep through his voice now that the worst shock is apparently over. << Kasvatuth? >> he queries. << Where is yours? We're worried about him. >>
The bone comment at least gets a small smile from Islay. "Hope not," she says, nodding. "They were mostly cleaned an' de-boned already. Cook gave me grief fer takin' 'em, but I'll survive any punishment," she adds, offering a small nod to the green Toth. "She's a pretty thing. Yer real lucky to've found one another." She casts one last glance toward Cassiel and J'lor, and then one toward Derek, and then she just looks ahead. Put one foot in front of the other. That's the order of the day, all right.
Morelenth> Kasvatuth's voice is muted, the bright colors of her thoughts dull and grey. << We are here, >> she offers, along with an image of a distinctive looking outcropping of rock. K'tric and herself are pictured underneath it.
L'vok helps to guide a few of the stragglers towards the training center, finally seeing P'tor and nods. Knowing M'cay is on his way as well, he moves a little faster towards the training center, guiding his brown, who seems to trip every few steps and almost faceplants at one point, bringing a worried expression to L'vok's face. He nods at Islay when he notices her, "Everything's fine." Yeah, sure.
Morelenth> Kasvatuth adds, << He's upset. Can you--Toth's likes him. And Rodhaketh's, I think. >>
The injuries are many. Three broken fingers on the cradled hand, a swelling around her right shoulder that indicates recent dislocation. Broken ribs are obvious, and the hem of her tunic, hanging below the edge of her riding jacket, reveals spots of blood. Still, Cassiel does her best to limp along with J'lor, concentrating on moving and breathing.
In that long moment where blue eyes pale meet brown eyes dark, Derek nods once. It is his first move in some long minutes, and it sets him into further motion, breaking his gaze shared with J'lor and turning a new one, speculative, on E'sere. And then - because she's no longer at his side - looking up, toward the treeline, to scout Aivey's disappearance. He frowns; his head shakes. But what he does next is aim a path that will follow the weyrlings.
On a Western Island, Clearing
Set off and away from the main encampment, a broad path leads tothis clearing is of generous size. The lack of vegetation is mostly natural with the edges cut back to provide a bit more room. Located off to the side and in the shade is a large lean-to of sorts. Not much more than four supports with a thatched roof, said roof is big enough to cover a space that allows thirty three cots and ample room between each for growing dragons. A large pile of dried grasses and palm leaves is available for those young dragons that wish to construct a nest of sorts. There are also ever present barrels of oil.
The portion of the clearing that is not used for this makeshift barracks is empty space for dragons and their riders to move or land. Near to the main path but off to the side, there is a circle of staggered flat rocks and old tree stumps. A seating area for talking, lessons, or studying.
In the dry season, the tropical island can truly be viewed as a haven. The weather is warm to hot; green flourishes everywhere and is peppered by various other vibrant colors. Sun stretches over the island during the day, and bright stars wink down at night. The cool winds blow and swirl, providing a pleasing counterpoint to the heat.
Obvious Exits:
Beach (B)
M'cay shuffles up towards the clearing and the shelter, heading instinctively for his and Tenzinth's area. "Do you think more will come?" he whispers to L'vok. "I hope not..." He doesn't know if angry mainland riders would stop to ask if he was an Exile or not before...dispatching him.
E'sere is content to follow along the weyrlings, chaperoning now, silent to watch them, and after a moment ask, "Shanti? P'dian?" He quickens his step to catch those two, frowning now.
Riseli follows along, her face a mixture between shock and smoldering anger. She sets her jaw, and without a word, heads for Ralkoth. The green is restless, and meets her half way, head butting her impatiently.
Shanti walks along with Toth, though they seperate as the clearnign approaches. Toth, moving back towards her resting place, Shanti towards the others. E'sere's approach and use of her name has her giving him a polite look, pausing her steps. "Bronzerider." She offers him politely. "Is there soemthing you need?"
L'vok shrugs at M'cay as P'tor settles near them. He strokes Benreth's neck as he whispers to M'cay, "Eventually they will. They know we have more boys here and why. I expect they'll be here eventually. Hopefully it will be some time before they do though." He sighs then and settles on honesty, but his voice is reassuring to the younger bronzerider.
Islay moves with a singular purpose. She positions herself at the back of the group, letting E'sere take the lead. She'll look for any stragglers, and that way not interfere with anything planned by the bronzerider. She watches the path, and remains rather quiet, just observing, nodding to anyone she knows. Derek is given a respectful nod if he even notices her, but mostly she just walks. One foot in front of the other. When she reaches the clearing, she stops, then looks at E'sere. "They gonna have questions," she says quietly. "I leave it to you t'give 'em th' answers they need," she says. "You just tell me what you want me t'do an' I'll do it."
"I could sure use a hug." P'dian replies swiftly to Shanti's question. She didn't specify /which/ bronzerider, mind. "That was the most disturbing sight I've ever seen." And that's saying something. He's woken up in goat poo before.
With an arm looped over Ralkoth's neck, Riseli makes her way towards the group, muscling her way (it helps when you have a noisy dragon) towards the front. She passes M'cay and L'vok, and just rolls her eyes at them.
"Morelenth is talking to Kasvatuth," E'sere explains. "K'tric's... upset. I'd feel better if he weren't alone just now, and Kasvatuth said he knows you well? If you'd rather not, of course, I understand, but." For the moment, he casts Islay only a quick nod, focused for the moment on the pair of weyrlings.
M'cay nods slowly to L'vok, tucking that bit of information away. He begins to feel that he's just a small part of a grand scheme. Dare he say, a game? Hopefully he won't get killed. He looks to E'sere for guidance. All that mainlander training. Older bronzerider = leader.
There's two odd folk out here. Islay is apparently the kind to step up and offer her services to the man left in charge. Derek's the kind who comes after everyone else, and who stands in the middle of the path right where the clearing lets out, like he's a roadblock. There's still his fist pulsing open and shut by his hip, but his expression has lightened and the tension in his shoulders, ever-present, has loosened the least fraction. His eyes track E'sere - mostly. M'cay and the other abductees get looks from time to time. And L'vok, too.
Shanti looks a bit surprised at that request; whatever she expected from the bronzerider, that wasn't it. "Of course, I'd not leave a friend bereft." Though there is wariness in her tone, and a glance towards Toth full of subvocal communication, before she turns back towards the path out. "I'll go look in on him, and be back soon." It's offered to the group at large as she makes her way back away
L'vok just gives Riseli a quick glare before returning to M'cay, "Don't worry about it right now. Not much we can do fw." He glances up the aisle and nods at Derek, nodding to him in greeting. He turns to make sure his brown is okay and then looks at Derek again.
For L'vok, Derek offers that mouthless smile and a fractional nod. Permission, maybe, or approval. Not much. It will have to do.
Islay doesn't do much of anything to begin with, just watching and listening. This is the first time she's been in the clearing, and has, to be honest, avoided it. She feels very much the outsider here. On the beach, with J'lor -- well, that was different. Here, now, this isn't her 'territory' and she's a little uncomfortable. Still, she's not a coward, and if she can help, she will. Derek is given the briefest of glances, enough, perhaps, to see the expression on his face, determine, perhaps, the mood. The fist is given a look, and then she seems satisfied and looks back to E'sere.
"Thank you, Shanti," E'sere says at once, grateful. "I'll have Kasvatuth tell you where he is--I don't think I know the spot myself." He offers her a relieved smile, and then turns back to the rest of the group, studying them, then picking the nearest two to approach first: M'cay and L'vok. "How are you two doing? M'cay? How is Tenzinth feeling right now?" He focuses particularly on the mainlander bronzerider.
M'cay smiles faintly, "Better than me," he admits, patting the young dragon's hide. "He really wanted to help, sir. He's real tired though, and his mind's...fuzzy." He struggles to describe his dragon's emotions without overlaying his own. The bronze rumbles softly, eyes loosing their grey and red tinges and shifting to a sleepy pale blue.
Toth settles in next to Shanti's cot, her eyes whirling with some small lingering distress as sh takes up a sentinel-like posture, draconic eyes watching her brothers and sisters, their riders, and especially the outsiders.
Riseli strokes Ralkoth's wiry neck absently, the green whirring along with the motions. Her riders eyes find Shanti, find E'sere, and then Shanti once again. There's a tightlipped look that follows the other weyrling as she leaves, but no words are given. Ralkoth offers a soft headbutt (pat attention to ME woman!) and Riseli refocuses her attention.
L'vok shakes his head slightly when E'sere starts chatting with M'cay and looks at Benreth then. He nods then and edges towards Derek, nodding when he gets there. "Greetings, Derek. How are you?" Not much more is said and he waits for the man to respond.
"I know he did," E'sere agrees with the younger bronzerider. "We all did. But he did good, thinking of the fish; that will help Chiavelth a lot, to get some food in her. You ought to get some sleep now, though, if you want to be able to help out more later." This, to Tenzinth himself, whom E'sere regards mildly. L'vok's words nearby draw his attention to that weyrling, and then to his target, Derek, whom E'sere regards for a brief moment before he turns back to his charges.
Toth turns her gaze on Riseli, and offers a croon towards her and her green, a wash of green affection passing over them from her and her rider, ringed with worry for their friend. Her gaze moves away then, back towards Derek and E'sere, watching.
E'sere's regard will find the same face that Derek gives L'vok: impassivity. "I'm interpreting," the island leader informs the young man, his prior guard, now a weyrling rider. "The signs they gave us."
Ralkoth's head swings around, regarding Toth for a brief moment. Riseli largely ignores it, her gaze glazed as she appears to be thinking, of conversing. She strokes Ralkoth's neck still, but it's with the absentmindedness of someone lost in thought.
Islay remains on the periphery of the clearing, easily in hearing distance if she's needed, but far enough away she won't be considered one of the weyrlings. Quiet. Observing. Watchful. Maybe useful, maybe not. For the moment, just ... there.
L'vok nods slowly at Derek and raises an eyebrow, "Signs? What signs?" He's not sure what Derek is talking about right now, but is definitely curious. "What do you mean?"
When Tenzinth sleeps, E'sere leaves M'cay to tend him, turning instead to converse to a couple of the other older riders nearby, then the weyrlings again, as he works his way through the group. "Riseli? How are you and Ralkoth?" he checks up on the next, voice quiet to keep from startling the lost-in-thought greenrider.
Riseli is startled, out of her thoughts and back into reality, when E'sere addresses her. "She's fine," is her quick answer, a glance going to the dragonet. "What's going to happen now? Are they going to come after us? Or leave us alone and pretend we don't exist again?"
"It means something. We knew they'd get information from her. We knew they'd take from Chiavelth everything she could show them." Derek looks away, as if what the greenrider who just returned has gone through troubles even him, though perhaps on a level not entirely concerned with the treatment of humanity. His voice drops, becoming very sandy and quiet. "When they put us on trial they cleaned us up first. We saw healers. Baths, new clothes. We were made presentable." A pause, while his focus goes distant. His fist at last relaxes, as if the topic soothes him in some awful way. "They didn't bother, with her. So it's a warning. Not just a threat. Not just, 'If you come back, we'll beat the tar out of you.' A warning."
Islay listens closely. She knew the weyrlings would have questions, and her brow knits as one of her own inner questions is spoken aloud. But before she can hear E'sere's answer, there's another voice speaking. A voice that commands attention whether or not the man intended it to. Islay's not so far away she can't clearly hear Derek's answer to L'vok's question. And, yes, he probably has the right of it. She sinks to the ground, drawing her knees up in front of herself, and wrapping one arm around them. She stares up at the sky, the other hand loosely resting on the hilt of the knife she got from stores -- as if she expected mainlanders to drop in suddenly and wreak havoc. Or revenge.
Morelenth> To Vellath: Morelenth, having had some time to calm himself, slips his voice in quietly now, unintrusively, so as to not interrupt more important things. << How much shall we tell the weyrlings? They ask questions about what happened to Chiavelth's and what those on the mainland intend. >>
L'vok blinks and nods at Derek and shakes his head some before responding, "Yes, I did notice they didn't clean her up or anything, which seemed.....odd." He sighs and glances at M'cay, "Some of the boys from the Mainland are even more worried now from the couple comments I heard. Some don't want to go back and others fear how they'll be treated when their families will see them. It won't settle good with them." He glances at M'cay and J'o then as well as P'tor, of which he's spoken to. "What will we be preparing for?"
Morelenth> Irritation. All of Vellath's focus should be on Chiavelth and his own rider. he doesn't need this cr-...oh. Weyrlings. Right. Uh... << Tell them they must wait. Tell them J'lor will answer their questions. That he sees to Chiavelth's and gathers information. >>
"I'd rather not get into it just now," E'sere tells Riseli apologetically. "J'lor will want to speak to you himself, I imagine, as soon as we do know more. But don't worry about them attacking us just now: they'd not have sent her back at all if they were planning on coming straight here themselves to capture us," is his reassuring answer.
Morelenth> To Vellath: Morelenth answers, << I will, >> and then, with a burst of encouraging warmth, retreats again.
"What would they want from a bunch of weyrling dragons, anyways?" Riseli asks, a hiss of anger behind her words. "Let them come. I'll give them a good piece of my mind, and my fist." Another hiss before Ralkoth interrupts with a sharp poke. Riseli strokes her absently, and sighs.
"I wouldn't worry about their families much," Derek says in his soft, sandy voice, a glance off to M'cay before returning his gaze to L'vok. "There's reason they came from cotholds out of nowhere. More innocent the hearts they left behind." It might almost sound like a kind thing to say. After that he steps forward, a nod to L'vok all it takes to just about dismiss him, or at least dismiss this line of questioning. Derek's headed for the others, and E'sere, then.
"I don't know myself, anymore, what they want," E'sere answers, shaking his head as he watches Riseli. "But for now, this moment, I think we're safe. I'll let you tend to Ralkoth, though; I'm sure she could use some reassurances, too. And Toth," he adds, noting the other green nearby, and favoring her with a small smile. Then, having noted Derek on the move a moment earlier, he takes a step away from the green weyrling to look to the exile leader.
"Why would they do something like this? I would think they'd be happy that their sons became dragonriders." Padi says from the side, sitting against the ground with his head on the shoulder of the sturdy Rodhaketh.
Islay's head moves back down and she regards P'dian for a long moment before saying simply, "Ain't their dragons their sons're riding." With a quiet sigh, she looks at the ground, picking up a stick and scratching in the sandy soil. Writing. Letters. Meaningless, just writing. After that, it's back to silence, especially when Derek starts moving toward E'sere.
L'vok nods slowly to Derek as he's dismissed. Definitely used to stuff like this as he checks on Benreth again, rubbing the brown's neck. He looks at Padi then, "They see us all as Exiles." He stops then and nods at Islay, "Even the ones who were kids when they came here. They judge us all the same."
Riseli pauses, her hand stopped on Ralkoth's neck as she turns to regard Toth. Silently, she walks over, Ralkoth keeping pace, until she's at Shanti's cot. She takes a seat and leans down, one arm draping over Toth's neck, while the other remains on Ralkoth.
Toth has been quiet, ilently watching. E'sere's mentioning her name drew a look, but Riseli's approach distracts her, and she gives her sister and Riseli a soft croon, resting her head under that arm.
Derek stops a couple paces away, when it's obvious E'sere's noticed him. His chin comes up a little more, though in fairness there's as much a tendency to tilt his gaze - the bronzerider's taller - as there is one to provide the appearance of pride. He mouths words, for the rider alone. 'Mind-bound,' maybe. 'Drudge' is hard to pick out from moving lips alone. 'Telgar' is easy to read. And then he says that one aloud, as a question, and goes on: "Telgar, you think?"
"Not everyone is unconditionally fond of riders, either," E'sere answers P'dian, without looking away from Derek. "J'lor tells Morelenth he'll explain to you as soon as he's able." Then, when the man stops in front of him, he studies him once, lips pursing. He closes the distance between them to lower his voice when replying. "S'lien's capable of it," he answers quietly, nodding once. "Of all them, I'd say most likely, too. He'd be vehement to hurt you for daring to intrude on him again--and to hurt me, if he could."
P'dian turns his head to Islay and the blonde brows furrow in confusion. "What's the difference? Maw says dragons don't judge other dragons by where they come from.."
L'vok looks at Padi then and answers, "Dragona may not just dragons, but people do just other people. It is the people that did this, not their dragons." Padi may not of addressed him, but he did feel like commenting about it.
Riseli strokes Toth gently. Ralkoth settles in nearby, curled up but alert. Riseli is mostly silent once again, soothing dragons, but looking toward the group with an intent gaze.
"Dragons don't, but people do," Islay answers simply. "I been told dragons don't remember like we do, an' people don't forget easy." She shrugs. "Don't think they'll be comin' now, but --" She shrugs again, that one shoulder rather eloquent. "Ain't gonna be pretty when they do, but ain't nothin' t'worry about now." She looks over at Toth and the other small dragons. When L'vok speaks she glances to him, nodding. "Yep. It were people what did this, not dragons."
Shanti returns after a short while, K'tric not far behind. A nod is sent to the bronzerider, E'sere, but it's distracted as she makes a beeline for her loved ones. Coming up to her cot, she offers Riseli a small smile as she settles next to her, claiming Toth's head for her own lap. "Thank you, love. She's still shaken, but... She agreed, he needed us more, this once." A light lean against her. "You ok?"
Derek nods once. "We'll discuss it," he informs the bronzerider, no longer troubling to keep his voice low. Then he slides a grey glance around, taking in the weyrlings and Islay in no order obvious, before coming back to level a new look at E'sere. "So good of you to take over, son. I imagine J'lor will think to look in on you soon." That's all, from him. Another nod, and he turns, heading for the path again.
"Me?" Riseli asks, snorting. "Oh, I'm just dandy. Really." Sarcasm runs rampant, but it earns her a sharp head butt to the leg via Ralkoth. She mouths a soft 'ow' as she bends to rub it. "How's K'tric? We seem to be doing well here," she notes, looping the entire group into her sentence.
"Better." Shanti says, nodding a little. Arm arm goes about Riseli's waist with a light squeeze. "It'll be ok, dearheart, really. J'lor'll make sure of it, he always does. This... It's very unpleasant and hard. But she'll be ok, we all will." A soft sigh.
When Shanti returns, K'tric and Kasvatuth at her side, E'sere favors them with a nod and then glances back to Derek. "Yes, sir," he agrees simply, watching the guard leave, before he turns back to study the weyrlings again. While K'tric curls up with Kasvatuth, the bronzerider ventures to check on a few more of the numerous weyrlings.
Morelenth> To Toth: Morelenth's voice is warm and grateful. << Thank you, for seeing Kasvatuth's, >> he notes.
Morelenth> Toth projects, << They are friends, it went without saying. >>
Rodhaketh snorts dragon-goobers on the older bronzerider as he passes. Padi, blissfully unware, looks to Shanti and says quietly, "She's been so good. Very patient." In regards to Toth, of course. Or maybe it's Riseli. c.c
L'vok blinks and watches Derek leave, but stays near his brown and watches M'cay and then P'tor. Seems like he has a couple of the new ones that he watches over himself.
Riseli glances first at Ralkoth, and then Shanti. "I think 'unpleasant' is putting it mildly. Did you /see/ her?" A small shudder runs through her body, and she quietly slips off the cot to nestle in between Ralkoth and Shanti. A small smile is given to P'dian. "So much for reading."
Morelenth> Morelenth projects to Toth, << Still, you didn't have to be friends with him, either, >> he points out. << Many wouldn't do that much. >> >>
"Ain't no better time than t'learn," Islay says, rising as Derek takes his leave. "They think we're ignorant and stupid. We all learn t'read, an' they can't say such," she adds. "Think Cass'd want us to worry so? She's a strong woman, an' so're y'all. I be willing t'help them what needs help learning t'read an' write." She stands straight and proud. "We can let this scare us, r' we can do what J'lor wanted us t'do." For her, it's simple. She doesn't have a distraught dragonet to worry about.
Shanti nods softly. "There are no words to do it justice, so I am not trying." She looks over at P'dian and offers him a smile. "She is very strong." She agrees; and she, too, could mean either. Her gaze moves to Islay. "And we will, in good time. For now... For now, it's best we all let our too-jangled nerves settle, especially those whocan't shield their partners."
Riseli's nod is accompanied by Ralkoth's wide-mouthed yawn. "Go sleep, then," Riseli decides, prodding the green fondly. Ralkoth tucks her head under her wing, and promptly falls asleep. Riseli stays put, her head leaning against Shanti's shoulder, and she nods absently. "Reading can come later. If at all."
Toth, too, doesn't take long to sleep; her earlier nap was inturrupted, after all. Shanti leans against Riseli, then with a glance around, lays back on her own cot, pulling her along. "They have the right idea." She declares softly, with a yawn. "So hard to stay awake when they sleep, anyway, and today... Aie.
Islay shrugs. "Then I got no place here," she says flatly, looking toward E'sere. She watches the bronzerider for a long moment, seeing the way he interacts with the weyrlings. "Nope, no call t'be here at all," she repeats. And, for a moment there's an expression not often seen on her face: jealousy. It's gone almost as soon as it registers, and she jerks her head around. Then she walks over to E'sere. "If you got nothing f'me t'do, I best be leaving you dragonriders t'do what it is you do," she says, and if there's a slight edge to her voice, it's belied by the smile that's on her face, at least.
Riseli snuggles in, and while she doesn't sleep, she does doze a bit.
E'sere, talking quietly to one of the mainland boys, glances around when Islay speaks, nodding once and offering her a sympathetic smile. "All right," he tells her. "Thank you for coming, though, Islay. Give the cooks our apologies, please--they'll understand, I'm sure."
L'vok shrugs at Islay, "Would love to get more than the basics. I know how to read, though not great and can write some. Maybe after I make sure eveything's settled here, I can search you out?"
"Sure." It's a simple answer for his thanks, and she turns away. L'vok is paused beside and she nods. "I be on th' beach somewheres. Ain't gonna be hard t'find me." She nods to him and moves away, toward the path, toward escape from the clearing.