That Lesson
Who: Noemie, R'klen, T'ace, Izarit, Fadra, T'mic, Tegara
What: Noemie tries to explain the birds and the bees.
Where: Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr
When: Day 21, month 9, Turn 13, of the Interval. It is a autumn afternoon.
Note: Ends a little abruptly due to us all having to head off.
Weyrling Barracks -- Ista Weyr
This huge cavern is one in a long series along the north wall of the encircling mountain, all generally rounded in shape. Massive tunnels connect the caverns, each of which contains groups of large stone couches. Each couch has a corresponding glowbasket, and more baskets are scattered around the remaining spaces. The northern wall opens up into something resembling a stage area, in front of which are lines of oil vats and meat tubs. To the east is a well-drained area where fresh carcasses are hung each day. Slate boards and samples of various gear are spread around the cavern, mute witness to the organized chaos of the barracks.
The huge entrance in the south part of the cavern leads out into the northwest side of the bowl, while the east and west exits issue into caverns similar to this one in function and form.
Noemie enters the Barracks, waving greetings to a Weyrling here and there and making gestures to herd them towards the front of the cavern. "Evening! I'm sure you all know what today's lecture is on... I'd put marks that you've been anxiously awaiting it... or maybe dreading it? In case somehow you didn't hear, yes, we've reached the lecture on mating flights." She keeps to a light tone as she speaks, trying to not take the subject too seriously, yet.
Arsiloth rumbles something in response to Noemie's words, a look of smug amusement plan on his dragon face. R'klen gives a groan and roll of his eyes. "Yeah, course -you- are looking forward to it," the man mutters to his lifemate, crossing his arms over his broad chest in an outward display of his discomfort.
T'ace finishes scritcing a mostly sleeping Eldenth's eyeridge before he moves over towards the weyrlingmasters, smirking a bit as Noemie speaks as he clasps his hands behind his head. "I bet yer looking forward ta given us the lesson." He says, grinning slightly...he's teasing, obviously, and trying to get better at making it not seem like 'bad' teasing. It's a work in progress.
Tegara enters somewhat belatedly, smirking slightly at the weyrling's discomfort -- except for T'ace, who looks to be flirting with Noemie. She shakes her head with a sigh, but says nothing, merely settling in with the rest of the weyrlingmaster staff.
Izarit doesn't look uncomfortable at all as she turns about to glance at Noemie. "This should be fun," she remarks aloud, with a curious glance around as she settles in herself.
Rook leans against Arsiloth who has settled into a very attentive position. He slants a gaze at Izzy, sniffing in a moddy manner and then shaking his head. "Don't get too excited. You won't get to win every time," he chides her. Then, he furrows a brow at T'ace. "Ain't you a bit young to be talkin' like that?" he notes, smirking smugly.
"Of course," Noemie says to T'ace in a carefully non-committal manner, and she flashes a reassuring smile in R'klen's direction. "It'll certainly be /interesting/," she says to Izarit. "I'm sure you all know the basics by now, but a mating flight is when a female dragon-- gold or green-- rises, and male dragons chase after her to compete to mate with her. Not only does the 'winning' male mate with the female, but because of the strong mindlink between dragon and rider, the riders, too, mate." All of this is said matter-of-factly, and Noemie glances sideways to Tegara, checking to make sure she's covered everything. "I know you all have heard a lot of things, maybe some rumors, or have burning questions you'd like answered. So instead of me just standing up here talking, I'd like to see what /you/ want to know. Ask me anything, and I'll answer."
Fadra strolls in conveniently tardy with B'ryce, the old greenrider grinning blithely at her back and she clutching a wineskin. That it's contents are truly wine is dubious. She's looking long-suffering, if not particularly uncomfortable, and it shows as she drops a shoulder against the wall. She's there to field questions for the maleriders, not about being a silly green. Hmph. B'ryce reaches out with an elbow to jam it gently in her side. "You're the one who picked greenriders." Fadra grumps back, "I picked /capable/ riders. Isn't it about time y'retired or something?"
"Might be more fun to lose," Izarit retorts to R'klen with a smirk, as she settles in to listen to Noemie's lecture.
"Or I can answer as well," Tegara adds, scanning the ranks of curious expressions. In the meantime, Riaceth had lumbered over to the opening of the barracks, sticking her snub, sea-green nose into things, eyes whirling with curiosity.
R'klen snorts derisively at Izzy and then looks pointedly away, disinterested in the topic tonight and doing his utmost not to make any eye contact. Sil, lounges casually, his attention on the weyrlingmasters.
Blue eyes shift from Noemie to R'klen and T'ace wrinkles his nose at his fellow weyrling, then just smirks at him a bit before looking back to Noemie and listening. At the offer of asking questions, the youth considers for a moment, then shrugs slightly. Seems pretty straight forward, really...At Izzy's words he looks to her and tilts his head slightly, hands still behind his head. "Why d'ya say that?" He asks a bit quietly, so as not to interrupt any questions that others might be asking the weyrlingmaster staff.
It's not long with the lack of questions and the side conversations before Fadra sees fit to join the lession more...actively. She tips up and away from the wall, deftly tying the wineskin to her belt and stepping forward. "R'klen. What happens if'n a dragon - male or female - eats th'beast it takes down in the pens? T'ace? What on /Pern/ could be so important that y'need t'say it during m'staff's lessons? I hope you'll be gracious enough t'share the information."
R'klen's eyes shift to Fadra, expression wary and brows furrowed with displeasure. "Well, that'd be makin' them full and heavy, wouldn't it? Like eatin' a big meal and tryin' to do a fast race or taking a long swim," he relates, shrugging slightly and then lifting a curious brow to see if he's right.
Noemie watches Fadra as she confronts the Weyrlings in a way the greenrider never would, and remains silent until R'klen hazards an answer to the question directed his way. "Right," she says. "So it's important that you keep your mind clear during flights-- which is hard to do with all the emotions. You need to be able to control your dragon, and not let him or her gorge the way they'd like." From the back of the room, the rather timid voice of a greenrider pipes up, "Howd'ya know your drgaon's proddy in the first place?"
T'ace erks and looks to Fadra as she says his name, unclasping his hands to scratch at his head with one of them, the other dropping to his side. "Just...uh...making sure I heard something right ma'am..." He offers, looking quite innocent about it as well. He continues to listen as well, eyes shifting between those that speak despite the responding to the weyrlingmaster.
B'ryce looks patiently innocent as he steps away to lurk in the crowd of weyrlings. Helpfully, the greenrider leans forward to mention to T'ace, "There wasn't much to hear, now was there? Work on your excuses." But before T'ace might get his breath to answer, the man is ambling further through the weyrlings, carefully plucking up a still-gossiping Tademy (and possibly saving her life) to relocate her away from Patsy.
R'klen watches, remaining quiet and letting his eyebrows and other facial features rise and fall in an unsaid commentary. Occasionally, he glances around, trying not to miss any of the tidbits of scattered conversation, whisperings or the lesson itself.
"It's a little different for every rider," Noemie says, on the topic of greens being proddy. "You'll feel something from your dragon, although the first time you might not recognize it for what it is. You could change your behavior and not notice it. Some greenriders hit on anything with two legs. Me? I down drinks at the Sandbar like it won't be there tomorrow." She grins candidly-- yes, she really /does/ seem open to talking about anything tonight.
T'mic saunters into the barracks, whistling the tail end of a popular tune. Spying the group he heads over that way, eyeing first the weyrlings' faces, then those of the other teachers. On the tail end of Noemie's confession he puts in cheerfully, "I don't notice much of a difference when Aath gets ready to go. /She/ gets a bit pushier, though. Fadra? You notice anything when Aath's about to rise?"
T'ace glances at B'ryce as the rider passes him and opens his mouth, then shuts it again as the man simply continues on. Hmph. He looks back towards Noemie then and listens, then nods thoughtfully, "No wonder yer down there so much..." He mutters, though mostly to himself. He shrugs then before he asks, "So...what do the male dragons have ta do before hand? And I heard that sometimes dragons can get hurt...?" He ventures. Better to know before hand and be prepared.
Fadra's simmering - she's turned a slight shade of red at T'mic's greeting announcement, and for a moment it seems she's retreated into her office in outright shame. That's ousted immediately, however, when she returns with a huge cloth the size of a flag, green and slightly tattered. "Fine. If'n y'don't want t'participate, and y'think y'know /everything/ about flights, y'can all come outside. Now. Y'can show us how well you'll do it when you're graduated, then. OUT." She gestures outside with a huge wave of the flag, clearly expecting everyone to move and do it quickly.
Ista Weyr Bowl -- Northwest
The golden light of the evening sun outlines the corral's fences to the west. To the southeast, the bowl widens out as it approaches the far side of towering black rock and the high fingers, five jutting peaks, high above. The black and gray rock of the bowl is devoid of any green or colour, except for the hundreds of dragons seen on ledges all along the Weyr walls. The Weyrling Barracks to the north open wide in a double-arch.
The wet fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
T'mic hops to - he might not be a weyrling, but this is -Fadra- we're speaking of. He does let out a low whistle and shake his head at the others, but then he leads the way outside.
T'ace blinks as he follows everyone else out of the barracks, frowning a bit as he looks up at R'klen. "It's yer fault cause yer all scared of flights and stuff." He mutters for their ears only. "What're ya so scared about?"
Noemie gives a little herdbeast-spying-a-dragon look, like one of the weyrlings might give, but quickly collects herself and follows the rest of the group out into the bowl. Of course-- whatever Fadra says!
Aath isn't the only green in this side of the bowl, but from the way she lounges and watches the entrance to the barracks, she's acting like it. Mic heads immediately to join her, his hands reaching for her skin; only after he's gotten that tactile reassurance does he turn, calling to Fadra, "What do you want us to do, ma'am?"
Rook gives T'ace a hard look and snorts. "I ain't -scared-, kid. I just don't like the idea of beddin' someone I'm not into," he notes. "And it isn't a huge mystery, even to a holder. Dragons drink, chase, human partner gets stuck with Faranth knows who," the man quips, scowling.
Fadra drags the flag out behind her, letting it flap like a giant cape. Fadra, the bat in the night. Flap, flap. "Which o'you would like t'tie this t'your dragon and pretend t'rise?" Sulizath, blearily staring at his rider, declines with a grumble. "Shush, your too big anyways. T'mic? Tegara? Noemie?" She holds the flag out expectantly, and notes for the weyrling riders, "You. Y'all will chase and catch. Whoever's dragon catches th'green and th'flag has no chores for th'next three days."
T'mic exchanges glances with his green. Though she gives an interested rumble, Mic shakes his head. "Aath would, but she's not, um... particularly interested in -not- getting caught. Even in only this mock-flight. Tegara? Noemie? Either of your girls want to?"
T'ace glares at R'klen, then reaches out to try and poke him in the side, "Hey, I'm not a kid." He says, a little louder...but hopefully not to be heard over whatever else is going on. "And I think that when ya agreed ta be a rider, ya kinda had ta deal with that, yeah?" He asks, then turns to look at Fadra as she speaks, blatantly ignoring R'klen now. At what she says, he blinks, the hmms softly and nods slowly...
Naijath raises a dainty paw, looks over at Aath, and exhales loudly through her nose. "And Nai says that she'd rather not exert herself so much, at the moment. Riaceth, then?" Noemie casts a hopeful look over at the third green, then to her rider.
R'klen laughs, batting away the poking finger. "You are to me," he says simply. "Just cause it's a part of life now, doesn't mean I wanna talk about it with everyone and anyone. It'll be my business from now on," he notes. Then, he's silent again, brows shooting up at the mention of no chores.
What: Noemie tries to explain the birds and the bees.
Where: Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr
When: Day 21, month 9, Turn 13, of the Interval. It is a autumn afternoon.
Note: Ends a little abruptly due to us all having to head off.
Weyrling Barracks -- Ista Weyr
This huge cavern is one in a long series along the north wall of the encircling mountain, all generally rounded in shape. Massive tunnels connect the caverns, each of which contains groups of large stone couches. Each couch has a corresponding glowbasket, and more baskets are scattered around the remaining spaces. The northern wall opens up into something resembling a stage area, in front of which are lines of oil vats and meat tubs. To the east is a well-drained area where fresh carcasses are hung each day. Slate boards and samples of various gear are spread around the cavern, mute witness to the organized chaos of the barracks.
The huge entrance in the south part of the cavern leads out into the northwest side of the bowl, while the east and west exits issue into caverns similar to this one in function and form.
Noemie enters the Barracks, waving greetings to a Weyrling here and there and making gestures to herd them towards the front of the cavern. "Evening! I'm sure you all know what today's lecture is on... I'd put marks that you've been anxiously awaiting it... or maybe dreading it? In case somehow you didn't hear, yes, we've reached the lecture on mating flights." She keeps to a light tone as she speaks, trying to not take the subject too seriously, yet.
Arsiloth rumbles something in response to Noemie's words, a look of smug amusement plan on his dragon face. R'klen gives a groan and roll of his eyes. "Yeah, course -you- are looking forward to it," the man mutters to his lifemate, crossing his arms over his broad chest in an outward display of his discomfort.
T'ace finishes scritcing a mostly sleeping Eldenth's eyeridge before he moves over towards the weyrlingmasters, smirking a bit as Noemie speaks as he clasps his hands behind his head. "I bet yer looking forward ta given us the lesson." He says, grinning slightly...he's teasing, obviously, and trying to get better at making it not seem like 'bad' teasing. It's a work in progress.
Tegara enters somewhat belatedly, smirking slightly at the weyrling's discomfort -- except for T'ace, who looks to be flirting with Noemie. She shakes her head with a sigh, but says nothing, merely settling in with the rest of the weyrlingmaster staff.
Izarit doesn't look uncomfortable at all as she turns about to glance at Noemie. "This should be fun," she remarks aloud, with a curious glance around as she settles in herself.
Rook leans against Arsiloth who has settled into a very attentive position. He slants a gaze at Izzy, sniffing in a moddy manner and then shaking his head. "Don't get too excited. You won't get to win every time," he chides her. Then, he furrows a brow at T'ace. "Ain't you a bit young to be talkin' like that?" he notes, smirking smugly.
"Of course," Noemie says to T'ace in a carefully non-committal manner, and she flashes a reassuring smile in R'klen's direction. "It'll certainly be /interesting/," she says to Izarit. "I'm sure you all know the basics by now, but a mating flight is when a female dragon-- gold or green-- rises, and male dragons chase after her to compete to mate with her. Not only does the 'winning' male mate with the female, but because of the strong mindlink between dragon and rider, the riders, too, mate." All of this is said matter-of-factly, and Noemie glances sideways to Tegara, checking to make sure she's covered everything. "I know you all have heard a lot of things, maybe some rumors, or have burning questions you'd like answered. So instead of me just standing up here talking, I'd like to see what /you/ want to know. Ask me anything, and I'll answer."
Fadra strolls in conveniently tardy with B'ryce, the old greenrider grinning blithely at her back and she clutching a wineskin. That it's contents are truly wine is dubious. She's looking long-suffering, if not particularly uncomfortable, and it shows as she drops a shoulder against the wall. She's there to field questions for the maleriders, not about being a silly green. Hmph. B'ryce reaches out with an elbow to jam it gently in her side. "You're the one who picked greenriders." Fadra grumps back, "I picked /capable/ riders. Isn't it about time y'retired or something?"
"Might be more fun to lose," Izarit retorts to R'klen with a smirk, as she settles in to listen to Noemie's lecture.
"Or I can answer as well," Tegara adds, scanning the ranks of curious expressions. In the meantime, Riaceth had lumbered over to the opening of the barracks, sticking her snub, sea-green nose into things, eyes whirling with curiosity.
R'klen snorts derisively at Izzy and then looks pointedly away, disinterested in the topic tonight and doing his utmost not to make any eye contact. Sil, lounges casually, his attention on the weyrlingmasters.
Blue eyes shift from Noemie to R'klen and T'ace wrinkles his nose at his fellow weyrling, then just smirks at him a bit before looking back to Noemie and listening. At the offer of asking questions, the youth considers for a moment, then shrugs slightly. Seems pretty straight forward, really...At Izzy's words he looks to her and tilts his head slightly, hands still behind his head. "Why d'ya say that?" He asks a bit quietly, so as not to interrupt any questions that others might be asking the weyrlingmaster staff.
It's not long with the lack of questions and the side conversations before Fadra sees fit to join the lession more...actively. She tips up and away from the wall, deftly tying the wineskin to her belt and stepping forward. "R'klen. What happens if'n a dragon - male or female - eats th'beast it takes down in the pens? T'ace? What on /Pern/ could be so important that y'need t'say it during m'staff's lessons? I hope you'll be gracious enough t'share the information."
R'klen's eyes shift to Fadra, expression wary and brows furrowed with displeasure. "Well, that'd be makin' them full and heavy, wouldn't it? Like eatin' a big meal and tryin' to do a fast race or taking a long swim," he relates, shrugging slightly and then lifting a curious brow to see if he's right.
Noemie watches Fadra as she confronts the Weyrlings in a way the greenrider never would, and remains silent until R'klen hazards an answer to the question directed his way. "Right," she says. "So it's important that you keep your mind clear during flights-- which is hard to do with all the emotions. You need to be able to control your dragon, and not let him or her gorge the way they'd like." From the back of the room, the rather timid voice of a greenrider pipes up, "Howd'ya know your drgaon's proddy in the first place?"
T'ace erks and looks to Fadra as she says his name, unclasping his hands to scratch at his head with one of them, the other dropping to his side. "Just...uh...making sure I heard something right ma'am..." He offers, looking quite innocent about it as well. He continues to listen as well, eyes shifting between those that speak despite the responding to the weyrlingmaster.
B'ryce looks patiently innocent as he steps away to lurk in the crowd of weyrlings. Helpfully, the greenrider leans forward to mention to T'ace, "There wasn't much to hear, now was there? Work on your excuses." But before T'ace might get his breath to answer, the man is ambling further through the weyrlings, carefully plucking up a still-gossiping Tademy (and possibly saving her life) to relocate her away from Patsy.
R'klen watches, remaining quiet and letting his eyebrows and other facial features rise and fall in an unsaid commentary. Occasionally, he glances around, trying not to miss any of the tidbits of scattered conversation, whisperings or the lesson itself.
"It's a little different for every rider," Noemie says, on the topic of greens being proddy. "You'll feel something from your dragon, although the first time you might not recognize it for what it is. You could change your behavior and not notice it. Some greenriders hit on anything with two legs. Me? I down drinks at the Sandbar like it won't be there tomorrow." She grins candidly-- yes, she really /does/ seem open to talking about anything tonight.
T'mic saunters into the barracks, whistling the tail end of a popular tune. Spying the group he heads over that way, eyeing first the weyrlings' faces, then those of the other teachers. On the tail end of Noemie's confession he puts in cheerfully, "I don't notice much of a difference when Aath gets ready to go. /She/ gets a bit pushier, though. Fadra? You notice anything when Aath's about to rise?"
T'ace glances at B'ryce as the rider passes him and opens his mouth, then shuts it again as the man simply continues on. Hmph. He looks back towards Noemie then and listens, then nods thoughtfully, "No wonder yer down there so much..." He mutters, though mostly to himself. He shrugs then before he asks, "So...what do the male dragons have ta do before hand? And I heard that sometimes dragons can get hurt...?" He ventures. Better to know before hand and be prepared.
Fadra's simmering - she's turned a slight shade of red at T'mic's greeting announcement, and for a moment it seems she's retreated into her office in outright shame. That's ousted immediately, however, when she returns with a huge cloth the size of a flag, green and slightly tattered. "Fine. If'n y'don't want t'participate, and y'think y'know /everything/ about flights, y'can all come outside. Now. Y'can show us how well you'll do it when you're graduated, then. OUT." She gestures outside with a huge wave of the flag, clearly expecting everyone to move and do it quickly.
Ista Weyr Bowl -- Northwest
The golden light of the evening sun outlines the corral's fences to the west. To the southeast, the bowl widens out as it approaches the far side of towering black rock and the high fingers, five jutting peaks, high above. The black and gray rock of the bowl is devoid of any green or colour, except for the hundreds of dragons seen on ledges all along the Weyr walls. The Weyrling Barracks to the north open wide in a double-arch.
The wet fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
T'mic hops to - he might not be a weyrling, but this is -Fadra- we're speaking of. He does let out a low whistle and shake his head at the others, but then he leads the way outside.
T'ace blinks as he follows everyone else out of the barracks, frowning a bit as he looks up at R'klen. "It's yer fault cause yer all scared of flights and stuff." He mutters for their ears only. "What're ya so scared about?"
Noemie gives a little herdbeast-spying-a-dragon look, like one of the weyrlings might give, but quickly collects herself and follows the rest of the group out into the bowl. Of course-- whatever Fadra says!
Aath isn't the only green in this side of the bowl, but from the way she lounges and watches the entrance to the barracks, she's acting like it. Mic heads immediately to join her, his hands reaching for her skin; only after he's gotten that tactile reassurance does he turn, calling to Fadra, "What do you want us to do, ma'am?"
Rook gives T'ace a hard look and snorts. "I ain't -scared-, kid. I just don't like the idea of beddin' someone I'm not into," he notes. "And it isn't a huge mystery, even to a holder. Dragons drink, chase, human partner gets stuck with Faranth knows who," the man quips, scowling.
Fadra drags the flag out behind her, letting it flap like a giant cape. Fadra, the bat in the night. Flap, flap. "Which o'you would like t'tie this t'your dragon and pretend t'rise?" Sulizath, blearily staring at his rider, declines with a grumble. "Shush, your too big anyways. T'mic? Tegara? Noemie?" She holds the flag out expectantly, and notes for the weyrling riders, "You. Y'all will chase and catch. Whoever's dragon catches th'green and th'flag has no chores for th'next three days."
T'mic exchanges glances with his green. Though she gives an interested rumble, Mic shakes his head. "Aath would, but she's not, um... particularly interested in -not- getting caught. Even in only this mock-flight. Tegara? Noemie? Either of your girls want to?"
T'ace glares at R'klen, then reaches out to try and poke him in the side, "Hey, I'm not a kid." He says, a little louder...but hopefully not to be heard over whatever else is going on. "And I think that when ya agreed ta be a rider, ya kinda had ta deal with that, yeah?" He asks, then turns to look at Fadra as she speaks, blatantly ignoring R'klen now. At what she says, he blinks, the hmms softly and nods slowly...
Naijath raises a dainty paw, looks over at Aath, and exhales loudly through her nose. "And Nai says that she'd rather not exert herself so much, at the moment. Riaceth, then?" Noemie casts a hopeful look over at the third green, then to her rider.
R'klen laughs, batting away the poking finger. "You are to me," he says simply. "Just cause it's a part of life now, doesn't mean I wanna talk about it with everyone and anyone. It'll be my business from now on," he notes. Then, he's silent again, brows shooting up at the mention of no chores.