Log: Lieryth and Mikhuth's Weyrlings
Who: Avey, Balinne, Idraila, Javeri, P'draig, T'mic, Leisath, Sivrenth, Chadamalith, Jekzith
When: High noon through early afternoon, 3/21/18
Where: Barracks, Ista Weyr
What: In the Barracks during/after the Hatching, new Weyrlings get to know their dragons. (This is /just/ the Barracks RP, from Paddy's POV.)
Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr(#431RAIJMa)
This long cavern was once a series of smaller lava bubbles along the north wall of the mountain, but work and time have smoothed the walls into a single, massive room. Couches and cots line the walls, each serving as home to a growing pair until they are old enough to have weyrs of their own. Supplies for the weyrlings are neatly arranged in bins and shelves spaced along the back wall while windows cut into the rock open onto the bowl and provide both light and air. The main classroom area opens to the left of the main doorway while the door to the Weyrlingmaster's office is straight across from it. Vats of oil and hooks for carcasses can be found near the far doorway. There is little purely for decoration here: even the tapestries that hang on the wall demonstrate strap-fitting or various formations.
Inside the Barracks it's busy. Not chaos quite, but busy. P'draig and B'ryce seem to move in a fairly well coordinated dance: one catching the incoming and starting them on meat, the other working with oil then trading off with some unspoken signal. So it is, that P'draig is just setting down a rag when Avey and Leisath come in and he bends to grab a bowl, moves to intercept the pair. "Hey there Avey, what's your girl's name?" he asks with a bright smile.
Leisath croons gently at Avey, but her eyes are looking everywhere, not just at her new lifemate. P'draig and B'ryce both get long looks before the green peers serenely back at Avey. She follows wherever Avey goes, her dainty paws lifting up high, almost like a happy trot.
Avey beams delightedly at P'draig. "Her name is Leisath! Isn't she the prettiest green ever?" she babbles excitedly as she reaches out to take the bowl. "Jakkal said she was prissy and clumsy," she adds. "I'm going to beat him up later." Despite the threat, she practically trills with delight when she speaks.
"Leisath, nice," P'draig agrees laughingly and hands the bowl off. "She's really pretty and she doesn't look any clumsier than any other new hatchling I've met before," he says encouragingly. "All right, so here's meat, feed her a piece at a time, and help her figure out how to chew. Be careful she doesn't bite her tongue and goes slow at first. Too much to eat can lead to all sorts of nasty tummy upsets." He gestures with one hand. "Why don't you two come over and sit here on this couch, okay? And if she starts to itch, we've got oil." Jekzith from just outside pokes his thoughts in. << Hello Leisath! Welcome, welcome! >> He sends a bright blue bubble of happy thought to the youngster.
"Okay," Avey agrees to P'draig, and heads over to sit down, watching to make sure Leisath follows, and talking to her along the way. "I'm... wow, I'm like, /starving/," she says, sounding surprised about it. "Weird. Well, I didn't have lunch. Hehe. Oh, it just means uh... well there was this boy who said some stuff he shouldn't! So I'm going to sit on him until he says sorry, that's all. Here," she says, scooping up some meat in her hand and poking it into Leisath's mouth.
Leisath's large eyes stay firmly focused on the newly presented meat. She sniffs curiously at it, then glances between Avey and the bowl. Interesting stuff, this eating business. She's delighted at the bubbly thoughts coming her way, which she happily returns with a bright flash of light. << Hello! You are the first person I have spoken to, besides mine! That is interesting, isn't it? >> She politely opens up her mouth and starts to chew chew chew once the meat is in her mouth.
"That's something we'll work on too," P'draig says calmly, "it's normal to feel what she feels at first and learning when to let that be close and when to kind of separate is important," he notes matter-of-factly. He stays nearby for a few moments, waiting to see how Leisath takes to the meat, then takes a few steps away, quietly props a plate of meatrolls and a glass of water up nearby for Avey. "If you need them," he says, resting a hand on her shoulder for a moment, then steps away as Neraset comes in with Vaylith declaring loudly that they need to eat /right now/ and that Vaylith /must/ be oiled, /right now/. "Everyone gets a turn, Neraset," Paddy says firmly.
Jekzith floats another bubble over for Leisath. << Great meeting you too, Leisath. I look forward to /seeing/ you later. For now, eat! >>
Chadamalith stumbles along behind his Javeri, his nose bumping into her calves as she walks.
Avey wows. "Thanks!" she says quickly to P'draig, though for now her attention is on Leisath and her meat. She waits for one mouthful to be fully chewed and swallowed before offering another, all the while carrying on a one-sided conversation that probably makes very little sense. "Just stupid stuff. And sure! You can help," she says. "Eat first though. You gotta be super hungry after being in that egg all that time." She looks up briefly when another weyrling pair comes in, but not for long before she's gazing back at Leisath again.
B'ryce takes Neraset aside with a little nod towards P'draig, thrusting a bowl of meat into her hands and pointing to it. "Feed her. With your hands." That makes the blonde gape and she stares at the Weyrlingmaster's assistant for a moment, stupefied. "But it's /bloody/" she whines. Paddy just turns away, chewing hard on his lips as he catches up another bowl of meat and moves towards the entrance as another pair appear and this time he laughs. "Jaaaaveri, lookit you. Congratulations! What's his name?"
Javeri finally does get sweat wiped from her eyes so she can see better. Thankfully there was no stumbling on her way off the sands. Especially amazing considering the nose at her calves. "I'm going as fast as I can," she promises the blue as they appear together. P'draig gets a sunny smile when she hears his voice and she tells him, "Chadamalith! Thank you!" Enthusiasm will carry her far right now! "Oh, food! That's great! Thank you so much!"
Leisath plays the part of a perfect hatchling, obediently opening her mouth and chewing whenever it is proper. Is she that polite, or is hunger just making her behave? Her tail swishes out behind her, the pace increasing the more her stomach is filled.
T'mic isn't far behind Chadamalith and Javeri, all but herding the still-flouncy blue and his partner, who is looking overwhelmed. "There's food," he says in the tone of one who's said this countless times before. "Get him some food and find a place to settle. The rest'll be along in a bit, a'right?" He pauses to search out P'draig with his eyes, a fond smile cracking his face.
Avey is clearly fascinated by what Leisath is telling her; the feeding is absent after the first few chunks of meat. "Ha, yeah, that makes sense. I bet it was nice. Well, your dam and sire were there like the whole time you were in your egg, and sometimes they let us come and visit and touch the eggs. I touched yours a few times. I thought it looked lucky! Guess I was right." She beams at Leisath, and pops the last bit of meat into her mouth, then frowns down at the empty bowl. "Huh. That's it, I guess. You're not still hungry, are you?" she asks her green.
Sivrenth follows after his lifemate, looking one way then the next until scooting close to Idraila. Almost literally having her back. But then the sight of meat sends him venturing a few feet away from Idraila, looking back toward her. << What's /that/ Idraila? >> And then to Jekzith, << And who are /you/? >>
Javeri turns so her hand can rest on top of her blue's head as she blinks several times before her free hand rubs her eyes. "Oh. Oh, my head. I promise you can have it. Poor starving fellow. I'll take care of you right now." Right now is as soon as she gets the bowl of meat in her hands and can find a spot for the two of them. The spot would be the closest place out of the line of traffic and as soon as she can she's holding a piece of meat out for Chadamalith and telling him, "You have to chew, ok?"
"Sure thing, Javeri," P'draig answers the newly Impressed pair. "A piece at a time," he warns, "make sure he doesn't bite his own tongue. Chew all the way through. Too fast and too much can make for an upset stomach." He looks up as Mic pulls in and grins over at the greenrider. "Hey Mic." And there's Balinne too. "Avey and Leisath're there," he jerks a thumb, it's actually note total chaos in here, B'ryce and P'draig seem to have been handling weyrlings as they came in and most are spaced out well in the barracks, either eating or oiling. Except Neraset. Who is whining and flouncing audibly and B'ryce is doing his best to curb her.
Leisath looks into the empty bowl before taking a few steps back, peering down at the ground as she does so to watch her footing. When her head raises up again, she notices two of her brothers and croons happily towards them both.
With the last few dragons preceding her, Balinne finally wanders off the Sands and into the barracks, looking satisfied. "Phew," and a hand rubs at her sweaty forehead, pushing back her hair. A bob of her head at P'draig, a bright, "Wonderful," for the scene at hand, and she's moving among the new pairs, looking to assist where needed.
Jekzith pokes his head in through the door from outside to have a gander at the hatchlings. << Hello, hello! >> he greets as more and more arrive. Sivrenth earns himself a fresh bubble, this one bright green. << Jekzith. P'draig is my rider. Welcome! >>
Idraila, for all her experience as a candidate, is entirely new to this situation. Her eyes dazedly follow the brown that is, somehow, hers, but eventually her gaze darts away to notice P'draig, her fellow weyrlings. "Food," she answers Sivrenth audibly, her feet unconsciously leading her to those buckets, near which she plops herself on the floor, little care left for the ragged robe she wears. "Come here," she urges the brown quietly, as if just realizing the words aren't needed. Still, she repeats, "Come here."
"Hey, Paddy," Mic returns, watching fondly as Chadamalith gets settled. He turns at the commotion of the last few hatchlings, his words to Balinne left forever unsaid when he catches sight of Tosolla and her green. He gapes, mouth hanging open like he's catching flies, and it's not until Solla says, "Papa, Tyalith's hungry," that he shakes sense back into his eyes. "Uh... here, baby - um. Paddy?" So there's a note of uncertainty in his voice as the greenrider calls for his weyrmate. Food. Now. Daughter!
Avey hears herself and her dragon being introduced and waves absently, but she's watching the green, tilting her head and nodding. "We will! Totally," she agrees. "You're -- you're the best green I've ever seen. You're awesome," she says, grinning broadly. "Even if you are little." She reaches out to stroke the hatchling's head fondly.
Sivrenth returns a serene pool of liquid silver back, complete with the chiming of metal on metal to Jekzith in response to that bubble sent to him. But then Idraila's speaking again and ambles toward Idraila, opening his mouth for her. << Yeah. Hungry. I get that. >> he tells Idraila, his thoughts to her bathed in silver light. But that doesn't stop him from exuding feelings of immediate hunger too.
Keeping an eye on Javeri and Chadamalith as they get settled, he looks back up again too as Mic goes quiet and /that/ voice sounds and he spots the color on Tyalith. "Oh boy," he murmurs under his breath and lifts a hand to scrub at his face. Like no one saw /that/ coming. Uh huh. There's another look to check on Javeri and Paddy nods. "Keep at it, you two and when he itches, the oil barrels are there, or holler for help." He moves to get another bowl of meat, takes a hold of Mic's shoulder and gives him a gentle push towards another pair. "I've got it, Mic." That's lowly said near the greenrider's ear and then he ambles on over to Tosolla. "Here you go, 'Solla. Meat in mouth. One piece at a time. Tell her to /chew/ and go slow."
Leisath's tail begins its swishing again as Avey starts to stroke her head. Her blue-green eyes close in contentment as the young dragon begins to croon softly, barely audible.
Javeri catches sight of Solla and turns to grin at her quickly. "So much for sailors," she calls over before refocusing on the task at hand. Former plans are not as important and it's only between feeding bites to Chadamalith that she finally looks around to see who else is in here with her. When the oil is mentioned she looks around for that as well, but since Chadamalith is still hungry she just makes a note of where that can be found for a little later on.
Sliding along, Balinne pauses by Avey and Leisath, grinning brightly at the green. "She looks content," she tells her. "Is she itching anywhere yet?"
T'mic shakes his head again as Paddy takes 'Solla in hand; this time his brains rattle back into place long enough for him to head over to Idraila and her brown. "Looks like your boy finally decided to be clutched," he quips with a grin, crouching down beside the pair. "What's his name? I didn't catch. He's a handsome one, isn't he?"
Avey looks suddenly very startled. "No!" she tells Balinne rather abruptly, and blinks, and then laughs. Grinning, she says to Leisath, "It's good to have someone who thinks so! Hee. So, like," she asks, tilting her head curiously, "did you ever hear people when you were in your egg? Or talk to your mom or anything?"
Leisath's head tilts curiously, her eyes lazily switching their focus between Balinne and Avey. At the mention of potential itching, she suddenly tilts her head downwards, hiding her chin against her chest as best she can.
Idraila gropes uncertainly through the bucket of meat. It's not the gore that gives her pause, but the vast array of sizes available in the meat chunks. "Let's see," she mutters to herself, "they told us... that small..." She picks up P'draig's advice and nods absently, confirming what she's remembered herself; a small bit is fielded over to Sivrenth, and then another. She focuses her eyes on the brown's and, with all the focus of her thoughts, impresses on him the importance: Slow. "Sivrenth," she answers T'mic humbly, glancing up at him only briefly, not willing to let her focus leak from her dragon for very long. "He's, um... surprising," she decides on an adjective.
Balinne just grins. "Well, if she starts to itch, here's oil set aside to sooth them. And baths, later." Much later. Much much later. With a final glance at the pair, and maybe an arched eyebrow for Avey's question, Balinne continues on. A few hasty "Smaller chunks," tossed out for advice, and she pauses by Javeri. "Hey, how's he doing?"
Beaming, just /beaming/ up at P'draig, Tosolla takes the bowl and plops herself down on the nearest cot and roots through the bowl to pop a piece of meat into Tyalith's mouth. "Why /thank/ you, Paddy," she says happily and sits there, totally absorbed with her greenling. "Holler when she's full or itches, and don't forget /slow/, 'Solla," he reminds her with another little shake of his head and swings back on by Javeri and Chadamalith with a bucket of oil caught up by the handle. "Everything going well here?" In the background B'ryce has gotten Neraset settled /finally/ though she's still huffing as she feeds Vaylith and he sees to tucking in an early pair who are already drowsing, popping sandals off the weyrling and shifting the blue dragonet's tail into the couch.
Javeri wipes her hand on her robe without thinking leaving a bloody smear the whole way. Then her hand is right back into the bowl to find a new piece to hand over. "He's fine. Doing fine. We're doing fine. He's not itchy yet." She heard, most likely, what's been said even if she doesn't seem to have been paying attention to anything but what she does. "Going fine," she says again when asked with a cheerful smile turned up at the inquirers.
Sivrenth doesn't have to be asked twice or even prompted once. When he sees that meat, he eats. Quickly. << Good stuff. >> is his response to it, as he eats. And eats. Then he hears that one word. Slow. And soon he's doing as asked. Every bite a slow one now. His right front leg lifts and drops, curiously looking at that crease on his body. But then food receives his attention, eating more.
Avey nods her head. "Hazy," she says, "Yeah, that makes sense with the shell... hey, you /do/ itch," she observes, faintly accusing, and grabs for the oil. "Why didn't you say so! Here, lift up your head and let me um..." She calls out to Balinne (or whoever) "Hey, do we just smear this stuff on with our hands, or what?"
"Handsome," T'mic repeats, grinning at Sivrenth's sl-lo-owness, and pushes back to his feet. "Soon as he's fed he'll probably be itchy. Oil's over there." A nod toward the buckets and the greenrider calls toward Avey, "Hands are good, let me get you a rag though, too." One last nod for Idraila and her brown and he picks his way through the madness to fetch a rag for Avey.
A decisive, "Good!" for Javeri. And Balinne answers, probably not the only one, to Avey, "Yeah, if you don't mind it. She's small enough, shouldn't take long." Being... little hatchlings and all.
P'draig sets the bucket down with a wink for Javeri. "Here it is for when he /is/," he says with a laugh and moves on again, hunkering down by one of the other greenpairs as the hatchling overbalances and bumps her nose. "Calm her," he advises, calm himself, to the weyrling, "think soothing things at her." He stays there for a moment, waiting until things seem settled there, then looks up, nods as Mic handles Avey's request. Jekzith warbles happily and has his own opinion to offer. << Sit still for the oil, it feels /really/ good. >>
Idraila nods vaguely at T'mic, an agreement and perhaps a bit of an apology for all but ignoring him just now. She settles into a rhythm with the meat, a rate at which both she and Sivrenth feel comfortable. Right now, she's just floating in that liquid silver of his thoughts, but she surfaces long enough to send a wordless query at him. Itchy?
Leisath looks down again, her talons clicking against the floor as if she's somewhat ashamed. Jekzith gets a worried response of, << But it is wet...isn't it dangerous? >>
<< Another good reason to hold still! It /can/ be slippery, >> Jekzith answers though his tone is mild, infused with calming blues and greens, paler shades than the bright happy welcoming ones of before.
Sivrenth lifts his leg again, that crease between his leg and body looking awfully dry. Or at the very least very itchy. There's wordless agreement sent back toward his lifemate. Comfortable is the right word for it. No longer hungry. He just appears itchy now as he leans against his girl.
Avey takes the rag from T'mic with a brief, "Thanks," and dips it in oil, all ready to smear it onto Leisath's chin -- but she stops, blinking. "Leisath? Um." She's perplexed. "The oil?" she asks. "You don't like the oil? Uh. It'll feel good. It will! It'll stop you itching." By now she feels the itching, too, and reaches up with her free hand to scratch ineffectually at her chin. She looks around for someone, anyone, and says, worried, "She's afraid of the oil!"
Javeri feeds a last piece, a tiny one dug out of the rest, to Chadamalith before she sets the bucket down and wipes her hands on her robe again. It's not like /she'll/ be wearing it again after all! When her hands are mostly clean and after she's scratched the back of her neck she nods to something the blue says. "Right. Of course. I will. Just tell me where it itches the most and that's where I will start." The bucket of oil gets pulled closer and she reaches both hands down into it before getting started.
T'mic crouches immediately beside Leisath, his voice calm and even. "Now now, no reason for that. Avey, you know there's nothing to be afraid of. You need to tell your girl that too, so she believes you. Let her sniff the rag, wipe some on your arm. There's nothing wrong with the oil, and it'll stop the itching."
Leisath sniffs suspiciously at the shiny liquid, balking, but only slightly. The rag gets a sniff too, but the young green seems perfectly alright with it at least. Her head tilts up at Avey, trust in her bright eyes.
Balinne's eyebrow arches at Avey, but T'mic's on it before she can get there. So onwards to doing another round of 'are you OK'es and 'Do you need anything?'s and she's back at Javeri, watching the dunking of her hands. "Just be careful," she cautions. "I don't think you can over oil a dragon, though. Just keep an eye on the floor if he moves."
Avey blinks and grins at T'mic reminds her of what she knew: that the oil is harmless. She wipes the rag on her arm, and shows Leisath. "See? It's kind of... goopy is all. Let me try it on your chin, okay?" She reaches forward slowly with the rag, not wanting to scare the green.
P'draig straightens after helping deal with that bruised muzzle and looks around. There's another drowsing pair leaning against each other and he moves in that direction, gently encourages the dragonet into the couch and catches the slumping young man to tuck him in under the blanket, sandals dropped to the floor. Then Paddy's wandering again and comes to hunker down by Idraila and Sivrenth. "Getting sorted here, Idraila?" he asks quietly.
Leisath watches closely as Avey applies the oil to her own arm. After a careful sniff of that too, she sloooowly lifts up her head, making her chin nice and easy to reach.
With a sharp nod, Idraila takes care of it. Shoving herself into a lean, she snags herself a pot of oil from the line of them and nudges it closer to her. Sivrenth rumbles and shifts, the itching escalating now that she's brought it to his attention, but she's soon easing it with oil-slicked fingers. "Yes, sir," she answers P'draig, looking up at him only a second later. "I'm... um, we're just fine." They are, aren't they? She sneaks an uncertain glance back at her brown, just to check. Yep, fine.
Javeri looks at the floor before she's started and then at Balinne. "I'll be careful!" she promises before going after the first itchy spot she's directed to. It might have been easier to work from one logical spot to the next, but instead she'll be moving forward and back and here and there as spots come up until she's got them all.
T'mic approves, "Good," and flashes another of his grins, this one reassuring. He lingers in case he's needed, but he's already looking around to see if he's required elsewhere. Farther back in the barracks, B'ryce has the older weyrlings who remain in the barracks involved in something - studying, perhaps, or a pop quiz of some sort.
Avey carefully swipes the rag across Leisath's chin, smiling encouragement. "There you go," she says. "Is that better? Here, let me rub it in." She uses her fingers to do that, gently but firmly, looking much relieved as the itch is eased.
P'draig nods and stays put, observing. "When you've worked it in well, wipe off the excess with a rag," he offers up by way of advice. "Looks like a nice, strong brown you've got there," he compliments Sivrenth and Idraila both. Jekzith's thoughts wind towards Sivrenth then, touching gently, blue-infused again. << The itching will go away soon. Promise. Then if you're sleepy you can sleep. Or we can talk. >> Over by Tyalith, Tosolla's about out of meat and is wrinkling her nose at bloodied fingers, wiping them thoughtlessly on her robe. "Itchy? Oh right!" and she bounces to her feet in quest of oil.
Her smile kind, Balinne nods at Javeri. "Of course," she tells her. "How are you handling everything, feel alright?" is her next question. A quick little glance hits T'mic first, and then P'draig. All good. B'ryce, it seems, doesn't need a glance.
Leisath's head twitches as the cool oil connects with her itchy hide, but she resists the urge to pull away. Avey's touch helps and the dragon calms down noticeably, her haunches relaxing some. Her voice is filled with streaks of white light, but it's still blotted out with a few dark spots as she responds to Jekzith, << I like the itching more than the oil, but if Avey tells me to do something, I will do it. >>
Javeri's head tilts over as she works oil into the base of Chadamalith's tail. When she looks up at Balinne she grins at the weyrlingmaster. "I'm fine. Yea. If I can keep track of all his questions this will not be so bad. What? No, I don't think so." Another grin as she shakes her head. "Definitely a lot of questions. But he's worth finding the answers so that's fine for me!" And then she's directed to another itchy spot so she gets a little more oil.
Idraila snags a rag as directed, and swipes it gently across Sivrenth's hide, as if he might break were she to press too hard. "He is," she agress with P'draig, a slight touch of pride in her quiet voice. The mention of sleep pushes te brown into a wide yawn, a motion that surprises both Idraila and himself. << What is there to talk about? >> Sivrenth questions Jekzith, curious enough to get all his options straight before he comes to a decision about it all. "I'm kind of hungry myself," she notes to P'draig, glancing at the raw meat nearby with a curious mixture of disgust and desire. "Is that normal?"
There's a gentle nudge Leisath's way, from Jekzith, an image floated in a bubble of smooth shining hide. << It's good for your hide, makes it all pretty. >>
Avey discards the rag and uses her hands. She takes advantage of the oiling to caress Leisath all over, the love and affection there for anyone to see on her face. "There you go. I'm sorry you don't like the oil. It's good for you though, it's good for your hide. It helps you have healthy hide, and you'll need that because dragons grow really fast," she explains as she oils and strokes her green.
Bouncing? Bouncing catches Mic's eye, and he's over to intercept the bouncer and catch her elbow before he makes the identification. "Calm down there... Oh." Father and daughter exchange looks - his bemused, hers decidedly cheeky - before he releases her arm and steps back. "Tyalith needs oil, Papa," she says, and Mic, still a little flabbergasted, waves her to the barrels before moving to join P'draig. "Perfectly normal, Idraila. First off, s'noon, right? And second, you're feeling what he's feeling. So get him fed, first, then oiled, and once he's asleep you can head out to the hatching feast to get yourself fed."
"Yeah, they do that," says Balinne about the questions, expression fond as she remembers her own Impression. "He's likely going to itch all over, so you may want to work from nose to tail," she offers. "Nice and oily." Slimy.
Nodding as Idraila gets that rag out, P'draig just smiles at the pride in her voice and rises. "I'll get you a plate," he says equally soft-voiced. "It's because of your bond. You feel what he feels, especially right now. For now, just roll with it, but we'll work on helping you figure out what's you and what's him over the next little while." He's not gone long, back in a moment with another glass of water and some tidbits from the table to the side. "Here you go, for when you've a hand free." There's another rag offered over, for oily hands. << All sorts of things! >> Jekzith floats more bubbles for Sivrenth too, each one with its own separate image of things to be seen outside and a one or two of Sivrenth's own rider, walking around the Weyr, plants under hands, ink on her fingers.
"But he doesn't itch everywhere the same way," she tells Balinne with a rueful grin. "And, oh, right. There, ok. I was getting to it." She moves forward to take a paw extended out to her by Chadamalith and sits down on the ground to start to oil his paw. "All over," she repeats and then shakes her head at the next question. "I don't know. But we'll find out, ok? But let me oil you first. We can't do anything else until that's done."
As she oils Leisath, talking and cooing to her, Avey gathers the green hatchling into her lap for a good cuddle. There'll be oil spots all over her robe: oh well.
Sivrenth absorbs all of those little bubbles with quicksilver excitement, but that is quickly subdued by more pressing matters. In response to a quick creel, Idraila hands over another few morsels of meat, finishing stuffing her brown while P'draig is away. He announces he's finished with a contented and sleepy burp. << Later. I think, >> Sivrenth responds to Jekzith, his voice already fading with the sudden onset of weariness. "Thank you," Idraila says, first to T'mic, then, again, "Thanks," to welcome Paddy back. With her fingers, wiped but still slick, she gingerly transfers a cracker to her mouth and chews while she continues to wipe Sivrenth down with the oil-rag.
Tosolla just beams again and takes care of getting oil for Tyalith, humming a little as she works. Neraset ... not so chipper. Vaylith's weyrling is complaining again and loudly too. "This oil doesn't feel right. It's too cold. Vaylith needs /warm/ oil," she says with hands propped on hips and chin jutting out a little. The nearest weyrling over just rolls his eyes at Neraset's manner. "Stuff it," he tells her, straight up. "Just get the damn oil on her and shut up. No one wants to hear your caterwauling right now."
"Sure," P'draig tells Idraila with a smile and eyes Sivrenth. "Looks like he might need a couch," he tells her, "before he passes out right where he is" and tilts a look up at Mic, favoring the greenrider with a brief grin. Jekzith's thoughts touch lightly again. << Later, >> he agrees. << Go find a spot to sleep for now! >> he encourages and draws away, awareness skipping over all the young minds inside as he curls up in the doorway still, just keeping an eye on things.
You sense T'mic leans in to whisper, amused, "Tempting, but I'm a little busy just now."
T'mic meets Paddy's grin with one of his own before leaning down to murmur something into the brownrider's ear. He claps P'draig's semi-clothed shoulder and ambles away toward Neraset to try and smooth over the problem of imperfect oil.
Javeri stops oiling and looks over at where Neraset complains. "Rub your hands together," she offers to the annoying girl. Then she rubs her own hands together to get the last of the oil from them onto a back paw to settle Chadamalith down. When that is done the blue nudges against her with his muzzle and looks around. "No, I don't think that's going to happen. Let's just find you a spot? Ok? No, not outside." A pause and then, "Because we can't. Look. There's a spot." She gestures to an open couch and tries to get Chadamalith up to move over so he doesn't fall asleep where he is at.
Avey has and Leisath have already unwittingly taken Jekzith's advice. With Avey leaned against the wall and Leisath curled up contentedly in her lap, the two of them are fast asleep.
Huffing, Neraset rounds on her fellow weyrling. "Don't you /dare/ talk to me that way," she tells him snidely. Javeri's suggestion pulls her up a little and she eyes the other girl for a moment and opens her mouth to say something when T'mic approaches and suddenly there's a smile, sweet as sugar on her face and blonde hair brushed over her shoulder, her best coy look surfacing out of nowhere. "Oh sir, won't you /please/ point out where the /heated/ oil is?"
Idraila nods acquiescently and struggles to her feet, ignoring her oil- and meato-slicked hands and the plate of food near her, and helps guide Sivrenth to one of the only dragon couches left open. Only once he's settled into a coiled position, drifting off already, does Idraila return. She bends to pick up the rag and carefully wipe her hands clean before she picks up the plate and glass P'draig got for her. "Is everyone already at the feast?" she asks in a murmur, blinking her way further back into the present. With a ravenous snap, she bites off a hunk of bread and chews it down quickly. "There are a lot of people, yeah?"
T'mic's remark to P'draig draws out a sudden, badly withheld bark of laughter and Paddy rises, watching as Idraila settles Sivrenth and nods. "There you go," he says to her with a smile, looks down at himself, all oil and blood too and shirt all unbuttoned too and incongruously, takes a moment, to fasten up his shirt. Wherever he was before the eggs rocked, apparently he wasn't dressed for the occasion. "I think so, Idraila, a bunch anyway. If you want to clean up, go get your stuff and change, you're welcome to go over there."
"Don't -you- talk to the other weyrlings like that," T'mic tells Neraset calmly, hunkering beside Vaylith and extending his hand to her. As she nuzzles hopefully at his fingers Mic looks up at the petulant blonde. "Nope, no heated oil. She doesn't need it. What she -does- need is for you to take care of her, and if she's itchy as I think she is, she wouldn't care if the oil smelled like fish. So take your rag...," he waits until, pouting, she's done so, "Good. Aath likes it when I wring it out a little so it doesn't drip, and then you just smooth it over her hide." Not surprisingly at all, Neraset decides that -Vaylith- doesn't like drips either, and with Mic's constant stream of encouragement, the clover green gets her itchy spots tended to.
Idraila glances down at herself. Sweat-streaked robe and blood-streaked hands don't exactly make for good party-wear. "I think I might," Idraila agrees with a slow set of nods. She stuffs another bite of bread into her mouth before she begins to meander in that direction, expression all but vacant.
A petulant sort of pout starts to build on Neraset's mouth then smooths over and yes, she does as she's told, though she doesn't seem overly happy about it. Meanwhile, Tosolla's gotten Tyalith settled and is sitting with the green's head in her lap, one hand roaming over headknobs while she murmurs something quietly under her breath and Tyalith drifts off. P'draig nods as Idraila heads off, grinning and clears his throat. "Don't get lost on the way back." And as more and more weyrlings tire, dragonets fall asleep, he leans a shoulder against the wall and takes a breath. It's only a moment though before he's pushing off again, bending to pick up rags and buckets and lost shoes.
It takes a bit of pushing at the end to get Chadamalith towards an empty couch and Javeri gets him settled down before yawning. "For a little guy he sure is solid," she remarks before wiping oily hands down her robe the same as she wiped bloodied hands before. What a mess! "Will he stay sleeping?" she asks with a mother hen worried look down to the slumbering blue. "Because while I don't mind a mess I really would like a bath right now."
Mic stays with Neraset until Vaylith is gleaming; only then does he rise and move on to another weyrling. Javeri's question coaxes a quick laugh from the greenrider. "You'll know when he wakes up," he answers, pausing to lift an exhausted brown's drooping wing back into his bed. "So go ahead and get a quick bath, something to eat, too."
B'ryce's assistant - now Balinne's - moves back to the older weyrlings, joining them and the bluerider to provide low-voiced distraction.
With a pleased grin Javeri pats Chadamalith one more time before she heads off for a bath. Maybe she'll get something to eat before falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon, but she definitely is going for a bath. With a wave to everyone still around she heads off to get clean.
P'draig lingers, cleaning up, leaving B'ryce and Mic in the Barracks as he goes off to get a wash in himself and change his clothes. When he comes back a little later in the afternoon, he's looking more presentable and ready to tackly duty.
When: High noon through early afternoon, 3/21/18
Where: Barracks, Ista Weyr
What: In the Barracks during/after the Hatching, new Weyrlings get to know their dragons. (This is /just/ the Barracks RP, from Paddy's POV.)
Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr(#431RAIJMa)
This long cavern was once a series of smaller lava bubbles along the north wall of the mountain, but work and time have smoothed the walls into a single, massive room. Couches and cots line the walls, each serving as home to a growing pair until they are old enough to have weyrs of their own. Supplies for the weyrlings are neatly arranged in bins and shelves spaced along the back wall while windows cut into the rock open onto the bowl and provide both light and air. The main classroom area opens to the left of the main doorway while the door to the Weyrlingmaster's office is straight across from it. Vats of oil and hooks for carcasses can be found near the far doorway. There is little purely for decoration here: even the tapestries that hang on the wall demonstrate strap-fitting or various formations.
Inside the Barracks it's busy. Not chaos quite, but busy. P'draig and B'ryce seem to move in a fairly well coordinated dance: one catching the incoming and starting them on meat, the other working with oil then trading off with some unspoken signal. So it is, that P'draig is just setting down a rag when Avey and Leisath come in and he bends to grab a bowl, moves to intercept the pair. "Hey there Avey, what's your girl's name?" he asks with a bright smile.
Leisath croons gently at Avey, but her eyes are looking everywhere, not just at her new lifemate. P'draig and B'ryce both get long looks before the green peers serenely back at Avey. She follows wherever Avey goes, her dainty paws lifting up high, almost like a happy trot.
Avey beams delightedly at P'draig. "Her name is Leisath! Isn't she the prettiest green ever?" she babbles excitedly as she reaches out to take the bowl. "Jakkal said she was prissy and clumsy," she adds. "I'm going to beat him up later." Despite the threat, she practically trills with delight when she speaks.
"Leisath, nice," P'draig agrees laughingly and hands the bowl off. "She's really pretty and she doesn't look any clumsier than any other new hatchling I've met before," he says encouragingly. "All right, so here's meat, feed her a piece at a time, and help her figure out how to chew. Be careful she doesn't bite her tongue and goes slow at first. Too much to eat can lead to all sorts of nasty tummy upsets." He gestures with one hand. "Why don't you two come over and sit here on this couch, okay? And if she starts to itch, we've got oil." Jekzith from just outside pokes his thoughts in. << Hello Leisath! Welcome, welcome! >> He sends a bright blue bubble of happy thought to the youngster.
"Okay," Avey agrees to P'draig, and heads over to sit down, watching to make sure Leisath follows, and talking to her along the way. "I'm... wow, I'm like, /starving/," she says, sounding surprised about it. "Weird. Well, I didn't have lunch. Hehe. Oh, it just means uh... well there was this boy who said some stuff he shouldn't! So I'm going to sit on him until he says sorry, that's all. Here," she says, scooping up some meat in her hand and poking it into Leisath's mouth.
Leisath's large eyes stay firmly focused on the newly presented meat. She sniffs curiously at it, then glances between Avey and the bowl. Interesting stuff, this eating business. She's delighted at the bubbly thoughts coming her way, which she happily returns with a bright flash of light. << Hello! You are the first person I have spoken to, besides mine! That is interesting, isn't it? >> She politely opens up her mouth and starts to chew chew chew once the meat is in her mouth.
"That's something we'll work on too," P'draig says calmly, "it's normal to feel what she feels at first and learning when to let that be close and when to kind of separate is important," he notes matter-of-factly. He stays nearby for a few moments, waiting to see how Leisath takes to the meat, then takes a few steps away, quietly props a plate of meatrolls and a glass of water up nearby for Avey. "If you need them," he says, resting a hand on her shoulder for a moment, then steps away as Neraset comes in with Vaylith declaring loudly that they need to eat /right now/ and that Vaylith /must/ be oiled, /right now/. "Everyone gets a turn, Neraset," Paddy says firmly.
Jekzith floats another bubble over for Leisath. << Great meeting you too, Leisath. I look forward to /seeing/ you later. For now, eat! >>
Chadamalith stumbles along behind his Javeri, his nose bumping into her calves as she walks.
Avey wows. "Thanks!" she says quickly to P'draig, though for now her attention is on Leisath and her meat. She waits for one mouthful to be fully chewed and swallowed before offering another, all the while carrying on a one-sided conversation that probably makes very little sense. "Just stupid stuff. And sure! You can help," she says. "Eat first though. You gotta be super hungry after being in that egg all that time." She looks up briefly when another weyrling pair comes in, but not for long before she's gazing back at Leisath again.
B'ryce takes Neraset aside with a little nod towards P'draig, thrusting a bowl of meat into her hands and pointing to it. "Feed her. With your hands." That makes the blonde gape and she stares at the Weyrlingmaster's assistant for a moment, stupefied. "But it's /bloody/" she whines. Paddy just turns away, chewing hard on his lips as he catches up another bowl of meat and moves towards the entrance as another pair appear and this time he laughs. "Jaaaaveri, lookit you. Congratulations! What's his name?"
Javeri finally does get sweat wiped from her eyes so she can see better. Thankfully there was no stumbling on her way off the sands. Especially amazing considering the nose at her calves. "I'm going as fast as I can," she promises the blue as they appear together. P'draig gets a sunny smile when she hears his voice and she tells him, "Chadamalith! Thank you!" Enthusiasm will carry her far right now! "Oh, food! That's great! Thank you so much!"
Leisath plays the part of a perfect hatchling, obediently opening her mouth and chewing whenever it is proper. Is she that polite, or is hunger just making her behave? Her tail swishes out behind her, the pace increasing the more her stomach is filled.
T'mic isn't far behind Chadamalith and Javeri, all but herding the still-flouncy blue and his partner, who is looking overwhelmed. "There's food," he says in the tone of one who's said this countless times before. "Get him some food and find a place to settle. The rest'll be along in a bit, a'right?" He pauses to search out P'draig with his eyes, a fond smile cracking his face.
Avey is clearly fascinated by what Leisath is telling her; the feeding is absent after the first few chunks of meat. "Ha, yeah, that makes sense. I bet it was nice. Well, your dam and sire were there like the whole time you were in your egg, and sometimes they let us come and visit and touch the eggs. I touched yours a few times. I thought it looked lucky! Guess I was right." She beams at Leisath, and pops the last bit of meat into her mouth, then frowns down at the empty bowl. "Huh. That's it, I guess. You're not still hungry, are you?" she asks her green.
Sivrenth follows after his lifemate, looking one way then the next until scooting close to Idraila. Almost literally having her back. But then the sight of meat sends him venturing a few feet away from Idraila, looking back toward her. << What's /that/ Idraila? >> And then to Jekzith, << And who are /you/? >>
Javeri turns so her hand can rest on top of her blue's head as she blinks several times before her free hand rubs her eyes. "Oh. Oh, my head. I promise you can have it. Poor starving fellow. I'll take care of you right now." Right now is as soon as she gets the bowl of meat in her hands and can find a spot for the two of them. The spot would be the closest place out of the line of traffic and as soon as she can she's holding a piece of meat out for Chadamalith and telling him, "You have to chew, ok?"
"Sure thing, Javeri," P'draig answers the newly Impressed pair. "A piece at a time," he warns, "make sure he doesn't bite his own tongue. Chew all the way through. Too fast and too much can make for an upset stomach." He looks up as Mic pulls in and grins over at the greenrider. "Hey Mic." And there's Balinne too. "Avey and Leisath're there," he jerks a thumb, it's actually note total chaos in here, B'ryce and P'draig seem to have been handling weyrlings as they came in and most are spaced out well in the barracks, either eating or oiling. Except Neraset. Who is whining and flouncing audibly and B'ryce is doing his best to curb her.
Leisath looks into the empty bowl before taking a few steps back, peering down at the ground as she does so to watch her footing. When her head raises up again, she notices two of her brothers and croons happily towards them both.
With the last few dragons preceding her, Balinne finally wanders off the Sands and into the barracks, looking satisfied. "Phew," and a hand rubs at her sweaty forehead, pushing back her hair. A bob of her head at P'draig, a bright, "Wonderful," for the scene at hand, and she's moving among the new pairs, looking to assist where needed.
Jekzith pokes his head in through the door from outside to have a gander at the hatchlings. << Hello, hello! >> he greets as more and more arrive. Sivrenth earns himself a fresh bubble, this one bright green. << Jekzith. P'draig is my rider. Welcome! >>
Idraila, for all her experience as a candidate, is entirely new to this situation. Her eyes dazedly follow the brown that is, somehow, hers, but eventually her gaze darts away to notice P'draig, her fellow weyrlings. "Food," she answers Sivrenth audibly, her feet unconsciously leading her to those buckets, near which she plops herself on the floor, little care left for the ragged robe she wears. "Come here," she urges the brown quietly, as if just realizing the words aren't needed. Still, she repeats, "Come here."
"Hey, Paddy," Mic returns, watching fondly as Chadamalith gets settled. He turns at the commotion of the last few hatchlings, his words to Balinne left forever unsaid when he catches sight of Tosolla and her green. He gapes, mouth hanging open like he's catching flies, and it's not until Solla says, "Papa, Tyalith's hungry," that he shakes sense back into his eyes. "Uh... here, baby - um. Paddy?" So there's a note of uncertainty in his voice as the greenrider calls for his weyrmate. Food. Now. Daughter!
Avey hears herself and her dragon being introduced and waves absently, but she's watching the green, tilting her head and nodding. "We will! Totally," she agrees. "You're -- you're the best green I've ever seen. You're awesome," she says, grinning broadly. "Even if you are little." She reaches out to stroke the hatchling's head fondly.
Sivrenth returns a serene pool of liquid silver back, complete with the chiming of metal on metal to Jekzith in response to that bubble sent to him. But then Idraila's speaking again and ambles toward Idraila, opening his mouth for her. << Yeah. Hungry. I get that. >> he tells Idraila, his thoughts to her bathed in silver light. But that doesn't stop him from exuding feelings of immediate hunger too.
Keeping an eye on Javeri and Chadamalith as they get settled, he looks back up again too as Mic goes quiet and /that/ voice sounds and he spots the color on Tyalith. "Oh boy," he murmurs under his breath and lifts a hand to scrub at his face. Like no one saw /that/ coming. Uh huh. There's another look to check on Javeri and Paddy nods. "Keep at it, you two and when he itches, the oil barrels are there, or holler for help." He moves to get another bowl of meat, takes a hold of Mic's shoulder and gives him a gentle push towards another pair. "I've got it, Mic." That's lowly said near the greenrider's ear and then he ambles on over to Tosolla. "Here you go, 'Solla. Meat in mouth. One piece at a time. Tell her to /chew/ and go slow."
Leisath's tail begins its swishing again as Avey starts to stroke her head. Her blue-green eyes close in contentment as the young dragon begins to croon softly, barely audible.
Javeri catches sight of Solla and turns to grin at her quickly. "So much for sailors," she calls over before refocusing on the task at hand. Former plans are not as important and it's only between feeding bites to Chadamalith that she finally looks around to see who else is in here with her. When the oil is mentioned she looks around for that as well, but since Chadamalith is still hungry she just makes a note of where that can be found for a little later on.
Sliding along, Balinne pauses by Avey and Leisath, grinning brightly at the green. "She looks content," she tells her. "Is she itching anywhere yet?"
T'mic shakes his head again as Paddy takes 'Solla in hand; this time his brains rattle back into place long enough for him to head over to Idraila and her brown. "Looks like your boy finally decided to be clutched," he quips with a grin, crouching down beside the pair. "What's his name? I didn't catch. He's a handsome one, isn't he?"
Avey looks suddenly very startled. "No!" she tells Balinne rather abruptly, and blinks, and then laughs. Grinning, she says to Leisath, "It's good to have someone who thinks so! Hee. So, like," she asks, tilting her head curiously, "did you ever hear people when you were in your egg? Or talk to your mom or anything?"
Leisath's head tilts curiously, her eyes lazily switching their focus between Balinne and Avey. At the mention of potential itching, she suddenly tilts her head downwards, hiding her chin against her chest as best she can.
Idraila gropes uncertainly through the bucket of meat. It's not the gore that gives her pause, but the vast array of sizes available in the meat chunks. "Let's see," she mutters to herself, "they told us... that small..." She picks up P'draig's advice and nods absently, confirming what she's remembered herself; a small bit is fielded over to Sivrenth, and then another. She focuses her eyes on the brown's and, with all the focus of her thoughts, impresses on him the importance: Slow. "Sivrenth," she answers T'mic humbly, glancing up at him only briefly, not willing to let her focus leak from her dragon for very long. "He's, um... surprising," she decides on an adjective.
Balinne just grins. "Well, if she starts to itch, here's oil set aside to sooth them. And baths, later." Much later. Much much later. With a final glance at the pair, and maybe an arched eyebrow for Avey's question, Balinne continues on. A few hasty "Smaller chunks," tossed out for advice, and she pauses by Javeri. "Hey, how's he doing?"
Beaming, just /beaming/ up at P'draig, Tosolla takes the bowl and plops herself down on the nearest cot and roots through the bowl to pop a piece of meat into Tyalith's mouth. "Why /thank/ you, Paddy," she says happily and sits there, totally absorbed with her greenling. "Holler when she's full or itches, and don't forget /slow/, 'Solla," he reminds her with another little shake of his head and swings back on by Javeri and Chadamalith with a bucket of oil caught up by the handle. "Everything going well here?" In the background B'ryce has gotten Neraset settled /finally/ though she's still huffing as she feeds Vaylith and he sees to tucking in an early pair who are already drowsing, popping sandals off the weyrling and shifting the blue dragonet's tail into the couch.
Javeri wipes her hand on her robe without thinking leaving a bloody smear the whole way. Then her hand is right back into the bowl to find a new piece to hand over. "He's fine. Doing fine. We're doing fine. He's not itchy yet." She heard, most likely, what's been said even if she doesn't seem to have been paying attention to anything but what she does. "Going fine," she says again when asked with a cheerful smile turned up at the inquirers.
Sivrenth doesn't have to be asked twice or even prompted once. When he sees that meat, he eats. Quickly. << Good stuff. >> is his response to it, as he eats. And eats. Then he hears that one word. Slow. And soon he's doing as asked. Every bite a slow one now. His right front leg lifts and drops, curiously looking at that crease on his body. But then food receives his attention, eating more.
Avey nods her head. "Hazy," she says, "Yeah, that makes sense with the shell... hey, you /do/ itch," she observes, faintly accusing, and grabs for the oil. "Why didn't you say so! Here, lift up your head and let me um..." She calls out to Balinne (or whoever) "Hey, do we just smear this stuff on with our hands, or what?"
"Handsome," T'mic repeats, grinning at Sivrenth's sl-lo-owness, and pushes back to his feet. "Soon as he's fed he'll probably be itchy. Oil's over there." A nod toward the buckets and the greenrider calls toward Avey, "Hands are good, let me get you a rag though, too." One last nod for Idraila and her brown and he picks his way through the madness to fetch a rag for Avey.
A decisive, "Good!" for Javeri. And Balinne answers, probably not the only one, to Avey, "Yeah, if you don't mind it. She's small enough, shouldn't take long." Being... little hatchlings and all.
P'draig sets the bucket down with a wink for Javeri. "Here it is for when he /is/," he says with a laugh and moves on again, hunkering down by one of the other greenpairs as the hatchling overbalances and bumps her nose. "Calm her," he advises, calm himself, to the weyrling, "think soothing things at her." He stays there for a moment, waiting until things seem settled there, then looks up, nods as Mic handles Avey's request. Jekzith warbles happily and has his own opinion to offer. << Sit still for the oil, it feels /really/ good. >>
Idraila nods vaguely at T'mic, an agreement and perhaps a bit of an apology for all but ignoring him just now. She settles into a rhythm with the meat, a rate at which both she and Sivrenth feel comfortable. Right now, she's just floating in that liquid silver of his thoughts, but she surfaces long enough to send a wordless query at him. Itchy?
Leisath looks down again, her talons clicking against the floor as if she's somewhat ashamed. Jekzith gets a worried response of, << But it is wet...isn't it dangerous? >>
<< Another good reason to hold still! It /can/ be slippery, >> Jekzith answers though his tone is mild, infused with calming blues and greens, paler shades than the bright happy welcoming ones of before.
Sivrenth lifts his leg again, that crease between his leg and body looking awfully dry. Or at the very least very itchy. There's wordless agreement sent back toward his lifemate. Comfortable is the right word for it. No longer hungry. He just appears itchy now as he leans against his girl.
Avey takes the rag from T'mic with a brief, "Thanks," and dips it in oil, all ready to smear it onto Leisath's chin -- but she stops, blinking. "Leisath? Um." She's perplexed. "The oil?" she asks. "You don't like the oil? Uh. It'll feel good. It will! It'll stop you itching." By now she feels the itching, too, and reaches up with her free hand to scratch ineffectually at her chin. She looks around for someone, anyone, and says, worried, "She's afraid of the oil!"
Javeri feeds a last piece, a tiny one dug out of the rest, to Chadamalith before she sets the bucket down and wipes her hands on her robe again. It's not like /she'll/ be wearing it again after all! When her hands are mostly clean and after she's scratched the back of her neck she nods to something the blue says. "Right. Of course. I will. Just tell me where it itches the most and that's where I will start." The bucket of oil gets pulled closer and she reaches both hands down into it before getting started.
T'mic crouches immediately beside Leisath, his voice calm and even. "Now now, no reason for that. Avey, you know there's nothing to be afraid of. You need to tell your girl that too, so she believes you. Let her sniff the rag, wipe some on your arm. There's nothing wrong with the oil, and it'll stop the itching."
Leisath sniffs suspiciously at the shiny liquid, balking, but only slightly. The rag gets a sniff too, but the young green seems perfectly alright with it at least. Her head tilts up at Avey, trust in her bright eyes.
Balinne's eyebrow arches at Avey, but T'mic's on it before she can get there. So onwards to doing another round of 'are you OK'es and 'Do you need anything?'s and she's back at Javeri, watching the dunking of her hands. "Just be careful," she cautions. "I don't think you can over oil a dragon, though. Just keep an eye on the floor if he moves."
Avey blinks and grins at T'mic reminds her of what she knew: that the oil is harmless. She wipes the rag on her arm, and shows Leisath. "See? It's kind of... goopy is all. Let me try it on your chin, okay?" She reaches forward slowly with the rag, not wanting to scare the green.
P'draig straightens after helping deal with that bruised muzzle and looks around. There's another drowsing pair leaning against each other and he moves in that direction, gently encourages the dragonet into the couch and catches the slumping young man to tuck him in under the blanket, sandals dropped to the floor. Then Paddy's wandering again and comes to hunker down by Idraila and Sivrenth. "Getting sorted here, Idraila?" he asks quietly.
Leisath watches closely as Avey applies the oil to her own arm. After a careful sniff of that too, she sloooowly lifts up her head, making her chin nice and easy to reach.
With a sharp nod, Idraila takes care of it. Shoving herself into a lean, she snags herself a pot of oil from the line of them and nudges it closer to her. Sivrenth rumbles and shifts, the itching escalating now that she's brought it to his attention, but she's soon easing it with oil-slicked fingers. "Yes, sir," she answers P'draig, looking up at him only a second later. "I'm... um, we're just fine." They are, aren't they? She sneaks an uncertain glance back at her brown, just to check. Yep, fine.
Javeri looks at the floor before she's started and then at Balinne. "I'll be careful!" she promises before going after the first itchy spot she's directed to. It might have been easier to work from one logical spot to the next, but instead she'll be moving forward and back and here and there as spots come up until she's got them all.
T'mic approves, "Good," and flashes another of his grins, this one reassuring. He lingers in case he's needed, but he's already looking around to see if he's required elsewhere. Farther back in the barracks, B'ryce has the older weyrlings who remain in the barracks involved in something - studying, perhaps, or a pop quiz of some sort.
Avey carefully swipes the rag across Leisath's chin, smiling encouragement. "There you go," she says. "Is that better? Here, let me rub it in." She uses her fingers to do that, gently but firmly, looking much relieved as the itch is eased.
P'draig nods and stays put, observing. "When you've worked it in well, wipe off the excess with a rag," he offers up by way of advice. "Looks like a nice, strong brown you've got there," he compliments Sivrenth and Idraila both. Jekzith's thoughts wind towards Sivrenth then, touching gently, blue-infused again. << The itching will go away soon. Promise. Then if you're sleepy you can sleep. Or we can talk. >> Over by Tyalith, Tosolla's about out of meat and is wrinkling her nose at bloodied fingers, wiping them thoughtlessly on her robe. "Itchy? Oh right!" and she bounces to her feet in quest of oil.
Her smile kind, Balinne nods at Javeri. "Of course," she tells her. "How are you handling everything, feel alright?" is her next question. A quick little glance hits T'mic first, and then P'draig. All good. B'ryce, it seems, doesn't need a glance.
Leisath's head twitches as the cool oil connects with her itchy hide, but she resists the urge to pull away. Avey's touch helps and the dragon calms down noticeably, her haunches relaxing some. Her voice is filled with streaks of white light, but it's still blotted out with a few dark spots as she responds to Jekzith, << I like the itching more than the oil, but if Avey tells me to do something, I will do it. >>
Javeri's head tilts over as she works oil into the base of Chadamalith's tail. When she looks up at Balinne she grins at the weyrlingmaster. "I'm fine. Yea. If I can keep track of all his questions this will not be so bad. What? No, I don't think so." Another grin as she shakes her head. "Definitely a lot of questions. But he's worth finding the answers so that's fine for me!" And then she's directed to another itchy spot so she gets a little more oil.
Idraila snags a rag as directed, and swipes it gently across Sivrenth's hide, as if he might break were she to press too hard. "He is," she agress with P'draig, a slight touch of pride in her quiet voice. The mention of sleep pushes te brown into a wide yawn, a motion that surprises both Idraila and himself. << What is there to talk about? >> Sivrenth questions Jekzith, curious enough to get all his options straight before he comes to a decision about it all. "I'm kind of hungry myself," she notes to P'draig, glancing at the raw meat nearby with a curious mixture of disgust and desire. "Is that normal?"
There's a gentle nudge Leisath's way, from Jekzith, an image floated in a bubble of smooth shining hide. << It's good for your hide, makes it all pretty. >>
Avey discards the rag and uses her hands. She takes advantage of the oiling to caress Leisath all over, the love and affection there for anyone to see on her face. "There you go. I'm sorry you don't like the oil. It's good for you though, it's good for your hide. It helps you have healthy hide, and you'll need that because dragons grow really fast," she explains as she oils and strokes her green.
Bouncing? Bouncing catches Mic's eye, and he's over to intercept the bouncer and catch her elbow before he makes the identification. "Calm down there... Oh." Father and daughter exchange looks - his bemused, hers decidedly cheeky - before he releases her arm and steps back. "Tyalith needs oil, Papa," she says, and Mic, still a little flabbergasted, waves her to the barrels before moving to join P'draig. "Perfectly normal, Idraila. First off, s'noon, right? And second, you're feeling what he's feeling. So get him fed, first, then oiled, and once he's asleep you can head out to the hatching feast to get yourself fed."
"Yeah, they do that," says Balinne about the questions, expression fond as she remembers her own Impression. "He's likely going to itch all over, so you may want to work from nose to tail," she offers. "Nice and oily." Slimy.
Nodding as Idraila gets that rag out, P'draig just smiles at the pride in her voice and rises. "I'll get you a plate," he says equally soft-voiced. "It's because of your bond. You feel what he feels, especially right now. For now, just roll with it, but we'll work on helping you figure out what's you and what's him over the next little while." He's not gone long, back in a moment with another glass of water and some tidbits from the table to the side. "Here you go, for when you've a hand free." There's another rag offered over, for oily hands. << All sorts of things! >> Jekzith floats more bubbles for Sivrenth too, each one with its own separate image of things to be seen outside and a one or two of Sivrenth's own rider, walking around the Weyr, plants under hands, ink on her fingers.
"But he doesn't itch everywhere the same way," she tells Balinne with a rueful grin. "And, oh, right. There, ok. I was getting to it." She moves forward to take a paw extended out to her by Chadamalith and sits down on the ground to start to oil his paw. "All over," she repeats and then shakes her head at the next question. "I don't know. But we'll find out, ok? But let me oil you first. We can't do anything else until that's done."
As she oils Leisath, talking and cooing to her, Avey gathers the green hatchling into her lap for a good cuddle. There'll be oil spots all over her robe: oh well.
Sivrenth absorbs all of those little bubbles with quicksilver excitement, but that is quickly subdued by more pressing matters. In response to a quick creel, Idraila hands over another few morsels of meat, finishing stuffing her brown while P'draig is away. He announces he's finished with a contented and sleepy burp. << Later. I think, >> Sivrenth responds to Jekzith, his voice already fading with the sudden onset of weariness. "Thank you," Idraila says, first to T'mic, then, again, "Thanks," to welcome Paddy back. With her fingers, wiped but still slick, she gingerly transfers a cracker to her mouth and chews while she continues to wipe Sivrenth down with the oil-rag.
Tosolla just beams again and takes care of getting oil for Tyalith, humming a little as she works. Neraset ... not so chipper. Vaylith's weyrling is complaining again and loudly too. "This oil doesn't feel right. It's too cold. Vaylith needs /warm/ oil," she says with hands propped on hips and chin jutting out a little. The nearest weyrling over just rolls his eyes at Neraset's manner. "Stuff it," he tells her, straight up. "Just get the damn oil on her and shut up. No one wants to hear your caterwauling right now."
"Sure," P'draig tells Idraila with a smile and eyes Sivrenth. "Looks like he might need a couch," he tells her, "before he passes out right where he is" and tilts a look up at Mic, favoring the greenrider with a brief grin. Jekzith's thoughts touch lightly again. << Later, >> he agrees. << Go find a spot to sleep for now! >> he encourages and draws away, awareness skipping over all the young minds inside as he curls up in the doorway still, just keeping an eye on things.
You sense T'mic leans in to whisper, amused, "Tempting, but I'm a little busy just now."
T'mic meets Paddy's grin with one of his own before leaning down to murmur something into the brownrider's ear. He claps P'draig's semi-clothed shoulder and ambles away toward Neraset to try and smooth over the problem of imperfect oil.
Javeri stops oiling and looks over at where Neraset complains. "Rub your hands together," she offers to the annoying girl. Then she rubs her own hands together to get the last of the oil from them onto a back paw to settle Chadamalith down. When that is done the blue nudges against her with his muzzle and looks around. "No, I don't think that's going to happen. Let's just find you a spot? Ok? No, not outside." A pause and then, "Because we can't. Look. There's a spot." She gestures to an open couch and tries to get Chadamalith up to move over so he doesn't fall asleep where he is at.
Avey has and Leisath have already unwittingly taken Jekzith's advice. With Avey leaned against the wall and Leisath curled up contentedly in her lap, the two of them are fast asleep.
Huffing, Neraset rounds on her fellow weyrling. "Don't you /dare/ talk to me that way," she tells him snidely. Javeri's suggestion pulls her up a little and she eyes the other girl for a moment and opens her mouth to say something when T'mic approaches and suddenly there's a smile, sweet as sugar on her face and blonde hair brushed over her shoulder, her best coy look surfacing out of nowhere. "Oh sir, won't you /please/ point out where the /heated/ oil is?"
Idraila nods acquiescently and struggles to her feet, ignoring her oil- and meato-slicked hands and the plate of food near her, and helps guide Sivrenth to one of the only dragon couches left open. Only once he's settled into a coiled position, drifting off already, does Idraila return. She bends to pick up the rag and carefully wipe her hands clean before she picks up the plate and glass P'draig got for her. "Is everyone already at the feast?" she asks in a murmur, blinking her way further back into the present. With a ravenous snap, she bites off a hunk of bread and chews it down quickly. "There are a lot of people, yeah?"
T'mic's remark to P'draig draws out a sudden, badly withheld bark of laughter and Paddy rises, watching as Idraila settles Sivrenth and nods. "There you go," he says to her with a smile, looks down at himself, all oil and blood too and shirt all unbuttoned too and incongruously, takes a moment, to fasten up his shirt. Wherever he was before the eggs rocked, apparently he wasn't dressed for the occasion. "I think so, Idraila, a bunch anyway. If you want to clean up, go get your stuff and change, you're welcome to go over there."
"Don't -you- talk to the other weyrlings like that," T'mic tells Neraset calmly, hunkering beside Vaylith and extending his hand to her. As she nuzzles hopefully at his fingers Mic looks up at the petulant blonde. "Nope, no heated oil. She doesn't need it. What she -does- need is for you to take care of her, and if she's itchy as I think she is, she wouldn't care if the oil smelled like fish. So take your rag...," he waits until, pouting, she's done so, "Good. Aath likes it when I wring it out a little so it doesn't drip, and then you just smooth it over her hide." Not surprisingly at all, Neraset decides that -Vaylith- doesn't like drips either, and with Mic's constant stream of encouragement, the clover green gets her itchy spots tended to.
Idraila glances down at herself. Sweat-streaked robe and blood-streaked hands don't exactly make for good party-wear. "I think I might," Idraila agrees with a slow set of nods. She stuffs another bite of bread into her mouth before she begins to meander in that direction, expression all but vacant.
A petulant sort of pout starts to build on Neraset's mouth then smooths over and yes, she does as she's told, though she doesn't seem overly happy about it. Meanwhile, Tosolla's gotten Tyalith settled and is sitting with the green's head in her lap, one hand roaming over headknobs while she murmurs something quietly under her breath and Tyalith drifts off. P'draig nods as Idraila heads off, grinning and clears his throat. "Don't get lost on the way back." And as more and more weyrlings tire, dragonets fall asleep, he leans a shoulder against the wall and takes a breath. It's only a moment though before he's pushing off again, bending to pick up rags and buckets and lost shoes.
It takes a bit of pushing at the end to get Chadamalith towards an empty couch and Javeri gets him settled down before yawning. "For a little guy he sure is solid," she remarks before wiping oily hands down her robe the same as she wiped bloodied hands before. What a mess! "Will he stay sleeping?" she asks with a mother hen worried look down to the slumbering blue. "Because while I don't mind a mess I really would like a bath right now."
Mic stays with Neraset until Vaylith is gleaming; only then does he rise and move on to another weyrling. Javeri's question coaxes a quick laugh from the greenrider. "You'll know when he wakes up," he answers, pausing to lift an exhausted brown's drooping wing back into his bed. "So go ahead and get a quick bath, something to eat, too."
B'ryce's assistant - now Balinne's - moves back to the older weyrlings, joining them and the bluerider to provide low-voiced distraction.
With a pleased grin Javeri pats Chadamalith one more time before she heads off for a bath. Maybe she'll get something to eat before falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon, but she definitely is going for a bath. With a wave to everyone still around she heads off to get clean.
P'draig lingers, cleaning up, leaving B'ryce and Mic in the Barracks as he goes off to get a wash in himself and change his clothes. When he comes back a little later in the afternoon, he's looking more presentable and ready to tackly duty.