Log: Too Soon To Fly
Who: A'riste, D'kai, Nerine, P'draig, Valioth, Mikhuth, Zerith, Jekzith
When: 4/6/17
Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr
What: Zerith's a little too fast off the block into the air and suffers the consequences requiring intervention from the Weyrlingmaster and an abject lesson for the rest of the Weyrlings in waiting until the dragonets are ready before hitting the sky.
Spring is working up to full swing, it's a sunny morning after a lot of rain. The ground is still a little damp from the last rainfall and P'draig is out in the Bowl setting up for the morning's lesson. He's setting out markers on the ground at regular intervals, poles with bright red flags on top and pacing off the distance in between each as he goes. Jekzith watches and yawns now and then, the brown streeetching out long then looking up at the sky to sniff the cool breeze.
Who: Nerine P'draig D'kai A'riste
Swearwords are heard as one of the weyrlings enter's the Bowl. "You aren't trying it today and thats. . ." Silver blue eyes widen as she glances over to P'draig. ". . .that" Perhaps more suprised to see the Weyrling master than usual She gives an offhand wave before tossing an icy glare at her life mate, who genty tucks her wings back into place innocently.
Another marker gets placed and Jekzith warbles Zerith's way. P'draig looks up at the sound and likely the mental warning from the brown. "Good morning," he calls over to Weyrling and dragonet. << Hello there Zerith! >> is Jekzith's counterpoint bright greeting, painted in rainbow colors.
Zerith gives a cursory glance at the markers, before returning the warble from Jekzith. << Greetings Sir >> she returns her customary reply. The bubbly rainbow that is His thought speech intermixing with her own vaporous sparks in a myriad of color and light. Nerine glances to the markers, the frustration still not quite washed from her features. "Today's lesson?"
Pausing before he starts pacing out to place another marker, P'draig nods in answer to Nerine's question. "Well, we're going to run some ground drills this morning. Something else that'll start to become regular," the Weyrlingmaster explains an takes a closer look at the Weyrling. "Everything all right Nerine?" Jekzith conveys amusement, thought bright-lit still. << Sir? I get a sir too? >> He's probably forgotten again that she says this every time. << It's a nice day today. Lots of sunshine. It means the ground is mostly dry though. No mud. >>
"Ground drills?" She asks curious, then at the question shoots and involentary glance to her lifemate. "No more than usual I suppose, Zerith just makes up her mind and thinks I will drag along, but not this time." the girl seems determined but hardly a match for the weyrling. << Yes Sir. Your in command at the moment after all. >> Her mood seems lifted a bit by the whirls of color, and she nods at mention of the pleasant weather which brings her back to why she had gone into the bowl in the first place. Though for now it seemed her plan to be foiled. << Perfect day for flyin really. >>
"Mm. You guys walk the patterns of air drills together on the ground. Riders drill this way all the time. From now until you don't drill in a wing anymore at all," P'draig explains with a little chuckle. "Today you'll be learning the first of many, many patterns, down on the ground and then that'll get taken up into the air when they learn to fly." He tips a curious look over at Nerine, one brow lifted. "Having trouble with that? Her leading and you following and not managing to strike a balance?" Jekzith's amusement increases, but he puffs his chest out a little. << You know, you're right. I /am/ in charge. >> He muses on that for a minute then nosily pokes at whatever it is that's poking through her mind, electric happy blue zinging around. << Oh you betcha. It's great up there. Not too hot and the wind is good. Gets right under your wing and lifts you right up. >> Oh. So not helping.
"Aren't the patterns in the air three dimensional though? How do you compensate for the tiers on the ground?" The once scribe is genuinely interested now. She nods firmly shooting a cautionary glance over to the green that seems to have deemed it appropriate to spread her wings. << And a striking Capitan you are too, Brave, handsome, cunning >> Had Nerine the capability of listening in to the conversation she might have caught what was going on a little sooner, instead she simply nods to P'draig. "Down right impossible at times, if I ever get my hands on V'delin it will be a miracle if I don't wring his neck." A closer glance at the weyrling shows developing wing muscle, a product of the flight exercises that were supposed to be taught in a few months." Zerith nods bright blue sparks floating suspended in violet and electric blue. << I bet you're a real sight in the sky too, >> Zerith flicks her tail. Just what exactly is that green up to?
"The basic patterns aren't, no," P'draig replies. "And many of them are flown in levels without moving up and down between them." He aligns his hands one on top of the other to demonstrate, then drops them back down to his sides and paces off distance again, sinks another flagged pole into the ground. "V'delin? What happened there?" the Weyrlingmaster asks casually as he shoves that pole down firmly into the irt. << Why thank you, Zerith! >> Jekzith's rainbow sparkles with little hints of happy gold. << It's fun up there. You'll be up there before you know it! >>
Nerine nods and sighs, "Imirath happend and thats part of the. . ." Alarm registers in her eyes as she looks back to her lifemate. << Soon, Yeah! >> Without warning Zerith rocks back onto her hindlegs pushing forcefuly into the air, launching dangerously upward, wingsails catching the air easily and lifting her up. "ZERITH WHAT IN FARNATH'S NAME!!!" Nerine bolts over but by then the green is already in the air, and she can do little but watch horrified. She shoots a glance back to P'draig whincing at each wing beat. "How do I get her down!" Zerith is enthralled, the feel of the air in her wings, everything is exactly as it was described to her. << This is. . .>> but she cuts off as a sharp pain seizes in her left sholder.
Might be that Imirath's not the only one to get to one of P'draig's weyrlings, and flight seems to be on the brain as D'kai and Mikhuth break into the bright spring sunlight, blinking away the blindness. The bronze - now well outlengthing his rider at nearly twenty feet - spreads his wings, knocking into the tall lad and buffeting him around with a hefty downdraft, and only after Deke rights himself and swats at one of those translucent wingsails does Mickey slow his fluttering. A low, questioning croon from the dragonet brings D'kai's attention up from brushing dirt from his trousers, and suddenly the boy shouts aloud - perhaps cautionary, perhaps congratulatory - at the sight of Zerith hanging awkwardly in the air. The pair start off at a run towards Nerine, and Mikhuth's got his own wings spread wide as though threatening to take off, too. "You stay right here on the ground," Deke barks as they draw up to the Weyrlingmaster and fellow weyrling. "Ner - what is she /doing/?"
A'riste and Valioth both peer out of the barracks, the former summoned by the latter, who'd sensed the dismay outside. At the sight of Zerith in the sky, both of them step outside, shocked. Valioth bugles, but doesn't try to follow, perhaps because A'riste's grabbed at his head. "Oh, fardles."
Standing out in the spring morning sunshine after days of rain, P'draig seems to be setting up some kind of exercise on the Bowl floor. Flagged poles are set at intervals and he's got more of same under his arm. Right now though, he's paused and is looking back over his shoulder at Nerine and Zerith: "Imiriath huh, I -- whoa!" The weyrlingmaster drops the poles and walks over to Nerine, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath and tell her to stay put a second." Jekzith's suddenly letting out a surprised squawk and then he's up and into the air and gliding in under the green dragonet. << You're hurt! Careful! >> The brown settles into a supportive position and then P'draig gives Nerine's shoulder a squeeze. "Tell her to half-fold her wings and let Jekzith guide her down. It might be a little bumpy and it might hurt more," he says calmly. No yelling or lecturing. Yet.
Nerine says, "I am going to skin V'delin alive and feed that dragon to the wherrys" She snarls under her breath, "Flying" She answers dumbly to D'kai's query. She seems somewhat torn between tears and rage. "Stupid thing won't listen . . .Inorath. . . Wherry" anger blurbs her speach. As P'draig rests a hand on her sholder she takes in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. << You should try this sometime Neri Honey. >> Nerine feels a sharp pain in her back muscles, and knows the green is faking being fine. "P'draig says to stay put a minute, Now you will do this because you are going to listen to me for once in your life!" The green doesn't so much respond in words. "Why wouldn't you listen?" the girl mutters more to herself than anyone else. "P'draig says to half close your wings and let Jekzith guide you down. It is gonna hurt." Zerith does as she is told, remarkably, and gives a sharp cry as she folds her left wing. << I will be fine, thank you Sir. . . . >> She gives lamely."
"Flying, right." Dumb question, D'kai, wasn't it? But he tilts his head up to watch, and winces sympathetically at the green's squeal of pain. Next to him, Mikhuth anxiously hops from side to side, his wings still held out straight, trembling, and his own neck arched back to see his clutchsister's descent to the ground. Deke lays a hand on the bronze, who leans into his side, eyes whirling a sallow, unsettled yellow.
"Imirath," A'riste says quite soberly, echoing his own dragon's thoughts and stating the absolute obvious, "Is someone to watch." Out for, but he doesn't add that, and he likely doesn't have to. Valioth folds his wings tightly: he's not flying anywhere yet, nope. Even if he'd like to.
"No, you will not," P'draig tells Nerine quietly and firmly. "You will tend to Zerith and the two of you will come to an understanding about the directions that you give her and my rules," he continues, watching as the two dragons descend, with Jekzith bearing Zerith's relatively slight weight. With her no longer holding her wings out she's not so much flying as being 'carried' by the older brown. And here comes the ground. "I will speak with V'delin about Imirath, but the two of you /will/ be working more closely on your bond and Zerith following orders. Is that understood Nerine?" The Weyrlingmaster's hand drops off of her shoulder. "Now, let's go see to that injury. Hopefully, you'll both only need to be grounded for a couple of weeks." Paddy infuses his tone with the dire there and moves towards the incoming dragons. "D'kai, A'riste. Good morning. If you'd care for a little lesson in dragon wings and injury care, come with us if Valioth and Mikhuth are able to mind themselves."
Nerine is obediant, and nods to P'draig's instruction, Feeling embarasment at D'kai and A'riste's presence during her dragons rebellious interlude. She forces herself to remain as calm as possible, she won't cry not even as she feels the twangs of pain shared between her and Zerith. "Yes sir" she answers quietly, eyes not leaving her dragon as she is carried down from the sky. Zerith on the other hand though Injured seems pleased her clutchmates were there, << I flew! >> there is a wince then, but the green seems to disregard it.
Shooting Mikhuth a stern glance to emphasize P'draig's last words, to which the bronze huffs and flicks his wings tight to his back, D'kai moves forward slightly - well out of the way, but near enough to watch the Weyrlingmaster's ministrations, and close enough to Mickey that he might restrain the dragonet if he got any... ideas. That Zerith's well enough to bugle her triumph calms Mikhuth so that the revolving facets of his eyes pale to a more tranquil blue, and he even replies to the little green with a jubilant - though restrained - warble of his own, << Y'did, 'n we saw it, lass! >>
Valioth freezes; he'd begun to slink quietly toward Zerith. A'riste catches at one of his wingspars. His expression shows no mockery, no disdain for the green and her rider, only concern. "Certainly," he says to P'draig, he and his own bronze silent save for that.
When: 4/6/17
Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr
What: Zerith's a little too fast off the block into the air and suffers the consequences requiring intervention from the Weyrlingmaster and an abject lesson for the rest of the Weyrlings in waiting until the dragonets are ready before hitting the sky.
Spring is working up to full swing, it's a sunny morning after a lot of rain. The ground is still a little damp from the last rainfall and P'draig is out in the Bowl setting up for the morning's lesson. He's setting out markers on the ground at regular intervals, poles with bright red flags on top and pacing off the distance in between each as he goes. Jekzith watches and yawns now and then, the brown streeetching out long then looking up at the sky to sniff the cool breeze.
Who: Nerine P'draig D'kai A'riste
Swearwords are heard as one of the weyrlings enter's the Bowl. "You aren't trying it today and thats. . ." Silver blue eyes widen as she glances over to P'draig. ". . .that" Perhaps more suprised to see the Weyrling master than usual She gives an offhand wave before tossing an icy glare at her life mate, who genty tucks her wings back into place innocently.
Another marker gets placed and Jekzith warbles Zerith's way. P'draig looks up at the sound and likely the mental warning from the brown. "Good morning," he calls over to Weyrling and dragonet. << Hello there Zerith! >> is Jekzith's counterpoint bright greeting, painted in rainbow colors.
Zerith gives a cursory glance at the markers, before returning the warble from Jekzith. << Greetings Sir >> she returns her customary reply. The bubbly rainbow that is His thought speech intermixing with her own vaporous sparks in a myriad of color and light. Nerine glances to the markers, the frustration still not quite washed from her features. "Today's lesson?"
Pausing before he starts pacing out to place another marker, P'draig nods in answer to Nerine's question. "Well, we're going to run some ground drills this morning. Something else that'll start to become regular," the Weyrlingmaster explains an takes a closer look at the Weyrling. "Everything all right Nerine?" Jekzith conveys amusement, thought bright-lit still. << Sir? I get a sir too? >> He's probably forgotten again that she says this every time. << It's a nice day today. Lots of sunshine. It means the ground is mostly dry though. No mud. >>
"Ground drills?" She asks curious, then at the question shoots and involentary glance to her lifemate. "No more than usual I suppose, Zerith just makes up her mind and thinks I will drag along, but not this time." the girl seems determined but hardly a match for the weyrling. << Yes Sir. Your in command at the moment after all. >> Her mood seems lifted a bit by the whirls of color, and she nods at mention of the pleasant weather which brings her back to why she had gone into the bowl in the first place. Though for now it seemed her plan to be foiled. << Perfect day for flyin really. >>
"Mm. You guys walk the patterns of air drills together on the ground. Riders drill this way all the time. From now until you don't drill in a wing anymore at all," P'draig explains with a little chuckle. "Today you'll be learning the first of many, many patterns, down on the ground and then that'll get taken up into the air when they learn to fly." He tips a curious look over at Nerine, one brow lifted. "Having trouble with that? Her leading and you following and not managing to strike a balance?" Jekzith's amusement increases, but he puffs his chest out a little. << You know, you're right. I /am/ in charge. >> He muses on that for a minute then nosily pokes at whatever it is that's poking through her mind, electric happy blue zinging around. << Oh you betcha. It's great up there. Not too hot and the wind is good. Gets right under your wing and lifts you right up. >> Oh. So not helping.
"Aren't the patterns in the air three dimensional though? How do you compensate for the tiers on the ground?" The once scribe is genuinely interested now. She nods firmly shooting a cautionary glance over to the green that seems to have deemed it appropriate to spread her wings. << And a striking Capitan you are too, Brave, handsome, cunning >> Had Nerine the capability of listening in to the conversation she might have caught what was going on a little sooner, instead she simply nods to P'draig. "Down right impossible at times, if I ever get my hands on V'delin it will be a miracle if I don't wring his neck." A closer glance at the weyrling shows developing wing muscle, a product of the flight exercises that were supposed to be taught in a few months." Zerith nods bright blue sparks floating suspended in violet and electric blue. << I bet you're a real sight in the sky too, >> Zerith flicks her tail. Just what exactly is that green up to?
"The basic patterns aren't, no," P'draig replies. "And many of them are flown in levels without moving up and down between them." He aligns his hands one on top of the other to demonstrate, then drops them back down to his sides and paces off distance again, sinks another flagged pole into the ground. "V'delin? What happened there?" the Weyrlingmaster asks casually as he shoves that pole down firmly into the irt. << Why thank you, Zerith! >> Jekzith's rainbow sparkles with little hints of happy gold. << It's fun up there. You'll be up there before you know it! >>
Nerine nods and sighs, "Imirath happend and thats part of the. . ." Alarm registers in her eyes as she looks back to her lifemate. << Soon, Yeah! >> Without warning Zerith rocks back onto her hindlegs pushing forcefuly into the air, launching dangerously upward, wingsails catching the air easily and lifting her up. "ZERITH WHAT IN FARNATH'S NAME!!!" Nerine bolts over but by then the green is already in the air, and she can do little but watch horrified. She shoots a glance back to P'draig whincing at each wing beat. "How do I get her down!" Zerith is enthralled, the feel of the air in her wings, everything is exactly as it was described to her. << This is. . .>> but she cuts off as a sharp pain seizes in her left sholder.
Might be that Imirath's not the only one to get to one of P'draig's weyrlings, and flight seems to be on the brain as D'kai and Mikhuth break into the bright spring sunlight, blinking away the blindness. The bronze - now well outlengthing his rider at nearly twenty feet - spreads his wings, knocking into the tall lad and buffeting him around with a hefty downdraft, and only after Deke rights himself and swats at one of those translucent wingsails does Mickey slow his fluttering. A low, questioning croon from the dragonet brings D'kai's attention up from brushing dirt from his trousers, and suddenly the boy shouts aloud - perhaps cautionary, perhaps congratulatory - at the sight of Zerith hanging awkwardly in the air. The pair start off at a run towards Nerine, and Mikhuth's got his own wings spread wide as though threatening to take off, too. "You stay right here on the ground," Deke barks as they draw up to the Weyrlingmaster and fellow weyrling. "Ner - what is she /doing/?"
A'riste and Valioth both peer out of the barracks, the former summoned by the latter, who'd sensed the dismay outside. At the sight of Zerith in the sky, both of them step outside, shocked. Valioth bugles, but doesn't try to follow, perhaps because A'riste's grabbed at his head. "Oh, fardles."
Standing out in the spring morning sunshine after days of rain, P'draig seems to be setting up some kind of exercise on the Bowl floor. Flagged poles are set at intervals and he's got more of same under his arm. Right now though, he's paused and is looking back over his shoulder at Nerine and Zerith: "Imiriath huh, I -- whoa!" The weyrlingmaster drops the poles and walks over to Nerine, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath and tell her to stay put a second." Jekzith's suddenly letting out a surprised squawk and then he's up and into the air and gliding in under the green dragonet. << You're hurt! Careful! >> The brown settles into a supportive position and then P'draig gives Nerine's shoulder a squeeze. "Tell her to half-fold her wings and let Jekzith guide her down. It might be a little bumpy and it might hurt more," he says calmly. No yelling or lecturing. Yet.
Nerine says, "I am going to skin V'delin alive and feed that dragon to the wherrys" She snarls under her breath, "Flying" She answers dumbly to D'kai's query. She seems somewhat torn between tears and rage. "Stupid thing won't listen . . .Inorath. . . Wherry" anger blurbs her speach. As P'draig rests a hand on her sholder she takes in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. << You should try this sometime Neri Honey. >> Nerine feels a sharp pain in her back muscles, and knows the green is faking being fine. "P'draig says to stay put a minute, Now you will do this because you are going to listen to me for once in your life!" The green doesn't so much respond in words. "Why wouldn't you listen?" the girl mutters more to herself than anyone else. "P'draig says to half close your wings and let Jekzith guide you down. It is gonna hurt." Zerith does as she is told, remarkably, and gives a sharp cry as she folds her left wing. << I will be fine, thank you Sir. . . . >> She gives lamely."
"Flying, right." Dumb question, D'kai, wasn't it? But he tilts his head up to watch, and winces sympathetically at the green's squeal of pain. Next to him, Mikhuth anxiously hops from side to side, his wings still held out straight, trembling, and his own neck arched back to see his clutchsister's descent to the ground. Deke lays a hand on the bronze, who leans into his side, eyes whirling a sallow, unsettled yellow.
"Imirath," A'riste says quite soberly, echoing his own dragon's thoughts and stating the absolute obvious, "Is someone to watch." Out for, but he doesn't add that, and he likely doesn't have to. Valioth folds his wings tightly: he's not flying anywhere yet, nope. Even if he'd like to.
"No, you will not," P'draig tells Nerine quietly and firmly. "You will tend to Zerith and the two of you will come to an understanding about the directions that you give her and my rules," he continues, watching as the two dragons descend, with Jekzith bearing Zerith's relatively slight weight. With her no longer holding her wings out she's not so much flying as being 'carried' by the older brown. And here comes the ground. "I will speak with V'delin about Imirath, but the two of you /will/ be working more closely on your bond and Zerith following orders. Is that understood Nerine?" The Weyrlingmaster's hand drops off of her shoulder. "Now, let's go see to that injury. Hopefully, you'll both only need to be grounded for a couple of weeks." Paddy infuses his tone with the dire there and moves towards the incoming dragons. "D'kai, A'riste. Good morning. If you'd care for a little lesson in dragon wings and injury care, come with us if Valioth and Mikhuth are able to mind themselves."
Nerine is obediant, and nods to P'draig's instruction, Feeling embarasment at D'kai and A'riste's presence during her dragons rebellious interlude. She forces herself to remain as calm as possible, she won't cry not even as she feels the twangs of pain shared between her and Zerith. "Yes sir" she answers quietly, eyes not leaving her dragon as she is carried down from the sky. Zerith on the other hand though Injured seems pleased her clutchmates were there, << I flew! >> there is a wince then, but the green seems to disregard it.
Shooting Mikhuth a stern glance to emphasize P'draig's last words, to which the bronze huffs and flicks his wings tight to his back, D'kai moves forward slightly - well out of the way, but near enough to watch the Weyrlingmaster's ministrations, and close enough to Mickey that he might restrain the dragonet if he got any... ideas. That Zerith's well enough to bugle her triumph calms Mikhuth so that the revolving facets of his eyes pale to a more tranquil blue, and he even replies to the little green with a jubilant - though restrained - warble of his own, << Y'did, 'n we saw it, lass! >>
Valioth freezes; he'd begun to slink quietly toward Zerith. A'riste catches at one of his wingspars. His expression shows no mockery, no disdain for the green and her rider, only concern. "Certainly," he says to P'draig, he and his own bronze silent save for that.