Log: Sailing Ideas
Who: Dekelvai, P'draig
When: 1/26/17
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy bumps into Dekelvai having a second breakfast after snake hunting and they talk dragons and sailing.
Fort Weyr Living Cavern
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.
Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.
It's a chilled winter morning, but fortunately for Dekelvai it appears his chores have kept him indoors - for now, at least. As he nudges open the door to the cavern with his foot, he swings a long hooked pole over his shoulder, propping it against the wall and settling it so it's not likely to flop over (or gouge) any unwary passerby. As he goes in search of something to fill his rumbling stomach, he tosses a heavy canvas sack slung over his shoulder, recently emptied perhaps, over towards the wall where it rumples up in the corner. Waving to a fellow Candidate, he bears over his tray of meatrolls and slices of cold roast wherry and klah to take a seat and set into his breakfast. Or second breakfast.
Coming in off sweeps, P'daig's cheeks are pinked with the chill of the upper skies, passing Dekelvai as he rids himself of the sack. "Hmm. Stores today?" he asks the Candidate following along with him as he gets his own mug of klah and leans a hip against a nearby chair.
Lifting a hand in greeting to P'draig, Dekelvai shakes in head. Around a mouthful of redfruit, he mumbles an answer ("thunol scnecks"?), holds up a finger - hang on! - and then swallows. "Tunnel snakes!" He clarifies, almost triumphantly, with a nod of his head towards his viciously-hooked pole. "Found a few way far back in one of the store rooms, got into some of the old dried seed. Got 'em good." Apparently quite pleased, the lad rewards himself to an extra heaping of sweetener in his klah. Hmming contently, he asks, almost unnecessarily, "Sweeps?"
That mumbled answer earns an amused grin and then P'draig's face clears of questioning. "Ahhh. Snakes. Good for you. Can't ever get enough good snake hunters." A nod about sweeps. "Mmmhm. Ruatha today."
Mm! Dekelvai puffs out a little at this praise, easily flattered today, and nudges out a chair. "Time to sit? Or are you on your way out somewhere else?" It seems he's asking this to his plate, addressing his slab of wherry, but after he's sucessfully navigated plate-to-fork-to-mouth, he tips his head back up towards the brownrider with a smile.
P'draig hesitates a moment, then nods. "Sure," leans forward, pulls a chair out across from Dekelvai and sits in it, careful not to spill his klah. The brownrider unclips his jacket and pulls arms out of it, tucks it back over the chair's back. "Not right away, got a little time before drills."
Noting the hesitance, the fisher boy chuckles, "Don't feel obligated, by any means. I'm sure Philyp'll keep me company, won't you, Phil- oh." But the rotund boy's not gone for long, just out filling his plate up again, and slips back into place with a red-faced half-nod to P'draig. "Hey, question for you, sir," Dekelvai says, picking up his mug and leaning back in his chair, "I keep hearing you - not you in particular, you as in dragonriders in general - talking about drills. Seem to do them quite a bit. But - excuse my ignorance - why aren't you slowing up on the drills, as Thread's gone for a while now? And what'd'you do for drills, anyway? No one's ever properly explained 'em to me."
P'draig shakes his head. "I don't, just sort of ... procrastinating," the Weyrlingmaster confesses with a grin. "I should be giving my report is all." He takes a sip from his mug and leans back in his seat, pulling the warm drinking vessel towards his chest. "Don't know for sure if we've seen the last of it. Winter's not through yet. Crackdust here and there still. Might get another Fall or two yet, before it goes for good. But we slil have to run drills with ropes to keep the knowledge of how to fight alive. You know, for the next Pass."
"Don't worry, sir," Dekelvai grins, leaning forward to pick up the last few crumbs on his plate with a finger and push them around, "Your procrastination's safe with me." At this mention of a top secret report, he brightens with interest, though the expression wanes with realization. "Oh, your - report. Sweeps. Ruatha. Right?" A long draw off his klah staves off his next answer, and he nods, thoughtfully, at P'draig's reply. "Right," he repeats, "That's- that's pretty scary, sir. That it could happen again, any time. No warning, just... Thread. Do they know at least when the next Pass is due to-" Pause, chew on his lip, and then he answers his own question - he's just a bundle of knowledge this morning, isn't he? "-Oh, the starstones...?"
Laughing a little for that shift of expression, P'draig nods. "Yes, my sweeps report, nothing fancy," the brownrider says with a wink and props his elbows on the arms of his chair. "The Pass? Well this is the 17th turn of the Interval. Interval's supposed to be about 200 turns, so the Red Star shouldn't be back for another uhhh 183 turns. And yeah. Star Stones tell you 'bout the Red Star. Shame they don't say a damn thing about random comets."
Dekelvai mimes scribbling on an imaginary hide, tongue caught between his teeth. "No... Thread... Today... Need... More... Ladies... In... Skimpy... Clothing. Bring beer." He folds up this 'report' and with a flourish hands it to P'draig. "There. Report done." A grin, a laugh, fade of both and a nod as he considers this information. "Right. So- if I Impress..." He shakes his head. "Won't be living long enough to see Thread, not unless there's any more freak comets. That's both reassuring and... kind of sad. After all, dragons were meant to fight Thread, not rescue drowning men or idiots trapped in caves."
That makes P'draig's head duck and more laughter follows. "Very nice. Beer's good. So're ladies." Chuckling, the Weyrlingmaster tilts his mug back up and listens as Deke continues. "Nope. Neither of us is likely to ever see Thread again. Your kids might, but they'd be really really old. And honestly? Good riddance. It screws everything up, Thread." Bluntness there and P'draig shrugs. "Sure, but those other things are important too. And helping move things around Pern. Maybe exploring some too."
"Hand that one in, I dare you," Deke chuckles, nodding towards his invisible hide. "Maybe they're reward you with ladies and drinks for your hard work." The lad finishes off his klah, stares into the mug for a long moment, swilling about the last thick dredges, and then shrugs, too. "Good riddance," he echoes. "Guess so. But of course I haven't seen Thread-" (or its fatal aftermath) "-Like- like you all have." But at this mention of exploration he glances up, a flicker of interest - maybe longing - across his aquiline features. "Hey, d'you know what I think would be absolutely amazing? To go out and explore the ocean. All the little islands no one's ever stepped on - see what's out there. See what's for to catch in the sea."
"T'rien'll just laugh and say 'No really, Paddy, what was the weather like'." P'draig winks at the Candidate again and smirks besides. "Maybe just," he says lightly. "Thread ... is mindless, and eats everything. Lives. Turns everything upside down." The brownrider frowns down into his own mug now, sighs softly. "Glad to see the back of it." A deep breath and he refocuses on the young man's face. "That, my friend, sounds like an excellent plan."
"Good, then you've given him a laugh for the day," a firm nod and hint of curling lips hints that perhaps that was the point. Much too serious talk, Thread and life-eating and such, and Dekelvai shuffles his feet, a little uncomfortably. "'s easier out at sea, Thread, too. Just falls in, and, bloop, it's eaten by a yellowtail or shipfish. Harmless. Gone. Not going to... eat anyone or destroy someone's only crop. Yeah, good riddance." At this approval, Deke glances up and blue eyes flick across P'draig's face. "You think? Would be useful, too, I figure. Mapping, charting."
"Yeah. Just have to make sure the boat's covered," P'draig acknowledges. "I sail actually. Haven't gone for a little while, but I do. Have a little boat up at Tillek. Been thinking of going up and getting it and sailing it around and down to Ista." The brownrider's head bobs. "Interesting at least and well, holders always look for more land in an Interval, right?"
"Boat?" Deke shakes his head, once. "I was thinking dragon. Could cover so much more land - sea - so much quicker. And then when nightfall comes..." A snap of the lad's fingers, "You're home again. But you could sail by dragon, too - have to talked to T'aren about dragonsailing?" There's a bit of a puckish glint to his gaze. "He took a few of us out to Shipfish Island and the Captain - Teusath -" (even the boy has to correct himself) "- Folded all up like a boat with a sail between his wings. Worked a charm. Even had a sea attack!" But he shakes off the memory, though with a cheery smile. "Why don't you? Ask for some time off - I'm sure you've earned it. Be a nice little vacation, wouldn't it?"
P'draig shakes his head. "Just meant generally, about being out on the sea," the brownrider clarifies. "Surveying would be faster a-dragonback. But you can carry more stuff on a boat if you're going to be settling someplace long." Paddy now just stares at Dekelvai, blinking. "He ... made Teusath ... into a boat?" Then Paddy laughs, shakes his head. "Not now, Dekelvai. Eggs. Eggs on the Sands, hatching soon. Vacation /after/."
"Oh," Pause, and then for this amplification, nod. "Right, gotcha. I suppose - but if you're a-dragonback, couldn't you just run back - oh, not if the load's too big, or... Hm. Don't suppose someone could bring a boat /and/ a dragon?" Another snap of his fingers, and Dekelvai sits up straighter, "Fix up one of those little fire-lizard boats, real big, and have it pushed along..." He trails off, grins over at P'draig. "Probably easier T'aren's way. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was Teusath's idea, originally. He's quite the Captain." Then, with an airy wave (though a 'just-kidding-sir' expression), he says, "Awh, Weyrlings can wait. Or bring'em along. I'm suuuure they'd all fit."
"Why not?" P'draig notes thoughtfully. "I mean, the dragon'd outpace the boat, but sure, could pair up." A little shake of his head about the Captain. "Well. If he had fun, guess that's what matters." His expression seems to say he thinks it's daft. "Hmm? Oh. Can't you know. First few months, baby dragons can't fly at all at first, then not that far. And no, they can't wait, Dekelvai." The smile there is patient.
"Well," suddenly playing devil's advocate to his own idea, Dekelvai ticks off on his fingers: "If the dragon tires out, what do you do with him? And if you need to go home again, can't very well pop the boat /between/, too - if nothing else, the sudden cold would damage the wood-" Only two points, but they seem valid enough to the fisher lad, who shrugs off the thought. "Would be a sight to see, though." And Teusath? Probably /is/ daft, but the whole ordeal was certainly novel - even the thought summons a half-smile to the boy's face, though he looks a little sheepish for the rebuff. "Oh, I know. Well, not the specifics, but I'm sure it'd be impossible to have Weyrling classes out at sea, anyway. Eggs won't wait, either, I suppose."
"Dragon can just pop home, yeah. Boat'd have to find a harbor or an anchorage," P'draig points out. "Though I s'pose a couple of dragons could tow a boat pretty fast." He finishes off his klah and smiles over at the Candidate. "Later on, do some exercises /over/ the sea. But no. Eggs don't wait."
"Without a rider? Can they? Go /between/, I mean. 'Cause if the rider's in the boat, and the dragon's tired, and the boat's out at sea-" Dekelvai's obviously got the entire thing envisioned in his head, and can't find a solution to this quandry, though he laughs at the thought of several dragons towing a boat. "Now that'd be a terrifying ride!" Deke nudges around his empty mug, asks brightly, "Really? Over the sea? What kind of exercises?"
"They /can/ in an emergency, but ... not really recommended," P'draig says carefully. "Rider'd be better off going with, see, because the rider's the one who remembers where they're going. But with a big enough boat ... just keep sailing you know," The Weyrlingmaster shrugs, chuckling a little as Deke thinks it through. A nod or two about the exercises. "Yeah, drills out over the water, can do. Makes for a softer landing."
Not recommen- oh. An unpleasant thought, shied away from with an easy gesture and smile. Dekelvai nods, though, at the proferred solution. "Probably wouldn't just be one person sailing, either. One dragonsailor wouldn't be missed, I'm sure, if the boat's big enough." But what if it's not? What if- the wheels are obviously still turning in Deke's head, as the frowns pensively. "Would be fun," he finally decides. "Sailing with your dragon. I think. I mean, I don't have - you know what I mean. Ah," and the boy tosses his head in understanding.
Letting the lad work his way through all that, P'draig finishes off his klah and ultimately gets to his feet. "Think it through some more. And ... meant more doing stuff in the air, over the water. But diving too. Can help to practice stuff in the water where you can't fall out of the sky." Paddy gives a little nod. "I'm off, need to go get that report in. Be seeing you, Dekelvai."
When: 1/26/17
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy bumps into Dekelvai having a second breakfast after snake hunting and they talk dragons and sailing.
Fort Weyr Living Cavern
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.
Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.
It's a chilled winter morning, but fortunately for Dekelvai it appears his chores have kept him indoors - for now, at least. As he nudges open the door to the cavern with his foot, he swings a long hooked pole over his shoulder, propping it against the wall and settling it so it's not likely to flop over (or gouge) any unwary passerby. As he goes in search of something to fill his rumbling stomach, he tosses a heavy canvas sack slung over his shoulder, recently emptied perhaps, over towards the wall where it rumples up in the corner. Waving to a fellow Candidate, he bears over his tray of meatrolls and slices of cold roast wherry and klah to take a seat and set into his breakfast. Or second breakfast.
Coming in off sweeps, P'daig's cheeks are pinked with the chill of the upper skies, passing Dekelvai as he rids himself of the sack. "Hmm. Stores today?" he asks the Candidate following along with him as he gets his own mug of klah and leans a hip against a nearby chair.
Lifting a hand in greeting to P'draig, Dekelvai shakes in head. Around a mouthful of redfruit, he mumbles an answer ("thunol scnecks"?), holds up a finger - hang on! - and then swallows. "Tunnel snakes!" He clarifies, almost triumphantly, with a nod of his head towards his viciously-hooked pole. "Found a few way far back in one of the store rooms, got into some of the old dried seed. Got 'em good." Apparently quite pleased, the lad rewards himself to an extra heaping of sweetener in his klah. Hmming contently, he asks, almost unnecessarily, "Sweeps?"
That mumbled answer earns an amused grin and then P'draig's face clears of questioning. "Ahhh. Snakes. Good for you. Can't ever get enough good snake hunters." A nod about sweeps. "Mmmhm. Ruatha today."
Mm! Dekelvai puffs out a little at this praise, easily flattered today, and nudges out a chair. "Time to sit? Or are you on your way out somewhere else?" It seems he's asking this to his plate, addressing his slab of wherry, but after he's sucessfully navigated plate-to-fork-to-mouth, he tips his head back up towards the brownrider with a smile.
P'draig hesitates a moment, then nods. "Sure," leans forward, pulls a chair out across from Dekelvai and sits in it, careful not to spill his klah. The brownrider unclips his jacket and pulls arms out of it, tucks it back over the chair's back. "Not right away, got a little time before drills."
Noting the hesitance, the fisher boy chuckles, "Don't feel obligated, by any means. I'm sure Philyp'll keep me company, won't you, Phil- oh." But the rotund boy's not gone for long, just out filling his plate up again, and slips back into place with a red-faced half-nod to P'draig. "Hey, question for you, sir," Dekelvai says, picking up his mug and leaning back in his chair, "I keep hearing you - not you in particular, you as in dragonriders in general - talking about drills. Seem to do them quite a bit. But - excuse my ignorance - why aren't you slowing up on the drills, as Thread's gone for a while now? And what'd'you do for drills, anyway? No one's ever properly explained 'em to me."
P'draig shakes his head. "I don't, just sort of ... procrastinating," the Weyrlingmaster confesses with a grin. "I should be giving my report is all." He takes a sip from his mug and leans back in his seat, pulling the warm drinking vessel towards his chest. "Don't know for sure if we've seen the last of it. Winter's not through yet. Crackdust here and there still. Might get another Fall or two yet, before it goes for good. But we slil have to run drills with ropes to keep the knowledge of how to fight alive. You know, for the next Pass."
"Don't worry, sir," Dekelvai grins, leaning forward to pick up the last few crumbs on his plate with a finger and push them around, "Your procrastination's safe with me." At this mention of a top secret report, he brightens with interest, though the expression wanes with realization. "Oh, your - report. Sweeps. Ruatha. Right?" A long draw off his klah staves off his next answer, and he nods, thoughtfully, at P'draig's reply. "Right," he repeats, "That's- that's pretty scary, sir. That it could happen again, any time. No warning, just... Thread. Do they know at least when the next Pass is due to-" Pause, chew on his lip, and then he answers his own question - he's just a bundle of knowledge this morning, isn't he? "-Oh, the starstones...?"
Laughing a little for that shift of expression, P'draig nods. "Yes, my sweeps report, nothing fancy," the brownrider says with a wink and props his elbows on the arms of his chair. "The Pass? Well this is the 17th turn of the Interval. Interval's supposed to be about 200 turns, so the Red Star shouldn't be back for another uhhh 183 turns. And yeah. Star Stones tell you 'bout the Red Star. Shame they don't say a damn thing about random comets."
Dekelvai mimes scribbling on an imaginary hide, tongue caught between his teeth. "No... Thread... Today... Need... More... Ladies... In... Skimpy... Clothing. Bring beer." He folds up this 'report' and with a flourish hands it to P'draig. "There. Report done." A grin, a laugh, fade of both and a nod as he considers this information. "Right. So- if I Impress..." He shakes his head. "Won't be living long enough to see Thread, not unless there's any more freak comets. That's both reassuring and... kind of sad. After all, dragons were meant to fight Thread, not rescue drowning men or idiots trapped in caves."
That makes P'draig's head duck and more laughter follows. "Very nice. Beer's good. So're ladies." Chuckling, the Weyrlingmaster tilts his mug back up and listens as Deke continues. "Nope. Neither of us is likely to ever see Thread again. Your kids might, but they'd be really really old. And honestly? Good riddance. It screws everything up, Thread." Bluntness there and P'draig shrugs. "Sure, but those other things are important too. And helping move things around Pern. Maybe exploring some too."
"Hand that one in, I dare you," Deke chuckles, nodding towards his invisible hide. "Maybe they're reward you with ladies and drinks for your hard work." The lad finishes off his klah, stares into the mug for a long moment, swilling about the last thick dredges, and then shrugs, too. "Good riddance," he echoes. "Guess so. But of course I haven't seen Thread-" (or its fatal aftermath) "-Like- like you all have." But at this mention of exploration he glances up, a flicker of interest - maybe longing - across his aquiline features. "Hey, d'you know what I think would be absolutely amazing? To go out and explore the ocean. All the little islands no one's ever stepped on - see what's out there. See what's for to catch in the sea."
"T'rien'll just laugh and say 'No really, Paddy, what was the weather like'." P'draig winks at the Candidate again and smirks besides. "Maybe just," he says lightly. "Thread ... is mindless, and eats everything. Lives. Turns everything upside down." The brownrider frowns down into his own mug now, sighs softly. "Glad to see the back of it." A deep breath and he refocuses on the young man's face. "That, my friend, sounds like an excellent plan."
"Good, then you've given him a laugh for the day," a firm nod and hint of curling lips hints that perhaps that was the point. Much too serious talk, Thread and life-eating and such, and Dekelvai shuffles his feet, a little uncomfortably. "'s easier out at sea, Thread, too. Just falls in, and, bloop, it's eaten by a yellowtail or shipfish. Harmless. Gone. Not going to... eat anyone or destroy someone's only crop. Yeah, good riddance." At this approval, Deke glances up and blue eyes flick across P'draig's face. "You think? Would be useful, too, I figure. Mapping, charting."
"Yeah. Just have to make sure the boat's covered," P'draig acknowledges. "I sail actually. Haven't gone for a little while, but I do. Have a little boat up at Tillek. Been thinking of going up and getting it and sailing it around and down to Ista." The brownrider's head bobs. "Interesting at least and well, holders always look for more land in an Interval, right?"
"Boat?" Deke shakes his head, once. "I was thinking dragon. Could cover so much more land - sea - so much quicker. And then when nightfall comes..." A snap of the lad's fingers, "You're home again. But you could sail by dragon, too - have to talked to T'aren about dragonsailing?" There's a bit of a puckish glint to his gaze. "He took a few of us out to Shipfish Island and the Captain - Teusath -" (even the boy has to correct himself) "- Folded all up like a boat with a sail between his wings. Worked a charm. Even had a sea attack!" But he shakes off the memory, though with a cheery smile. "Why don't you? Ask for some time off - I'm sure you've earned it. Be a nice little vacation, wouldn't it?"
P'draig shakes his head. "Just meant generally, about being out on the sea," the brownrider clarifies. "Surveying would be faster a-dragonback. But you can carry more stuff on a boat if you're going to be settling someplace long." Paddy now just stares at Dekelvai, blinking. "He ... made Teusath ... into a boat?" Then Paddy laughs, shakes his head. "Not now, Dekelvai. Eggs. Eggs on the Sands, hatching soon. Vacation /after/."
"Oh," Pause, and then for this amplification, nod. "Right, gotcha. I suppose - but if you're a-dragonback, couldn't you just run back - oh, not if the load's too big, or... Hm. Don't suppose someone could bring a boat /and/ a dragon?" Another snap of his fingers, and Dekelvai sits up straighter, "Fix up one of those little fire-lizard boats, real big, and have it pushed along..." He trails off, grins over at P'draig. "Probably easier T'aren's way. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was Teusath's idea, originally. He's quite the Captain." Then, with an airy wave (though a 'just-kidding-sir' expression), he says, "Awh, Weyrlings can wait. Or bring'em along. I'm suuuure they'd all fit."
"Why not?" P'draig notes thoughtfully. "I mean, the dragon'd outpace the boat, but sure, could pair up." A little shake of his head about the Captain. "Well. If he had fun, guess that's what matters." His expression seems to say he thinks it's daft. "Hmm? Oh. Can't you know. First few months, baby dragons can't fly at all at first, then not that far. And no, they can't wait, Dekelvai." The smile there is patient.
"Well," suddenly playing devil's advocate to his own idea, Dekelvai ticks off on his fingers: "If the dragon tires out, what do you do with him? And if you need to go home again, can't very well pop the boat /between/, too - if nothing else, the sudden cold would damage the wood-" Only two points, but they seem valid enough to the fisher lad, who shrugs off the thought. "Would be a sight to see, though." And Teusath? Probably /is/ daft, but the whole ordeal was certainly novel - even the thought summons a half-smile to the boy's face, though he looks a little sheepish for the rebuff. "Oh, I know. Well, not the specifics, but I'm sure it'd be impossible to have Weyrling classes out at sea, anyway. Eggs won't wait, either, I suppose."
"Dragon can just pop home, yeah. Boat'd have to find a harbor or an anchorage," P'draig points out. "Though I s'pose a couple of dragons could tow a boat pretty fast." He finishes off his klah and smiles over at the Candidate. "Later on, do some exercises /over/ the sea. But no. Eggs don't wait."
"Without a rider? Can they? Go /between/, I mean. 'Cause if the rider's in the boat, and the dragon's tired, and the boat's out at sea-" Dekelvai's obviously got the entire thing envisioned in his head, and can't find a solution to this quandry, though he laughs at the thought of several dragons towing a boat. "Now that'd be a terrifying ride!" Deke nudges around his empty mug, asks brightly, "Really? Over the sea? What kind of exercises?"
"They /can/ in an emergency, but ... not really recommended," P'draig says carefully. "Rider'd be better off going with, see, because the rider's the one who remembers where they're going. But with a big enough boat ... just keep sailing you know," The Weyrlingmaster shrugs, chuckling a little as Deke thinks it through. A nod or two about the exercises. "Yeah, drills out over the water, can do. Makes for a softer landing."
Not recommen- oh. An unpleasant thought, shied away from with an easy gesture and smile. Dekelvai nods, though, at the proferred solution. "Probably wouldn't just be one person sailing, either. One dragonsailor wouldn't be missed, I'm sure, if the boat's big enough." But what if it's not? What if- the wheels are obviously still turning in Deke's head, as the frowns pensively. "Would be fun," he finally decides. "Sailing with your dragon. I think. I mean, I don't have - you know what I mean. Ah," and the boy tosses his head in understanding.
Letting the lad work his way through all that, P'draig finishes off his klah and ultimately gets to his feet. "Think it through some more. And ... meant more doing stuff in the air, over the water. But diving too. Can help to practice stuff in the water where you can't fall out of the sky." Paddy gives a little nod. "I'm off, need to go get that report in. Be seeing you, Dekelvai."