Log: Fight in the Barracks
Who: Avey, Neraset, Leisath, Vaylith, P'draig, Jekzith
When: It is a summer afternoon, 12:17 of day 27, month 6, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr
What: Neraset is suitably condescending and Avey retaliates. The fight gets broken up by P'draig who puts both girls on disciplinary detail.
Bali - left room for follow-up from the WLM.
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.
Avey sits on the floor with Leisath, soothing her with her hands, a pot of oil nearby. "I know it's cold," she says, "but you have patchy spots. They'll stop itching if you let me oil them. The sooner we get started, the sooner it's over, right? You can do it," she urges. "Watch: I'm going to rub the oil in my hands to warm it up." And she does, pouring a good handful of oil into her palm and rubbing her hands together, slicking them up good.
A cot or two over, Neraset is flopped on her stomach in predictably short shorts, though her top is at least fully buttoned today. Bare feet swing back and forth as she reads through the next set of formations that have been assigned to the weyrlings to learn. Blond curls flip to the side as she turns her head to look over at the other greenpair. "Is she /still/ fussy about that? Vaylith got over it ages ago, though she /did/ want warm oil when she was first shelled," Neraset announces airily. Vaylith herself is curled serenely on her couch, watching the comings and goings in the Barracks with peaceful blue-green eyes. The tone on her rider though lifts her head and she turns to look at Neraset with what seem like almost maternal disapproval.
Never a fan of Neraset even in the best of circumstances, Avey bristles and narrows her eyes at the other weyrling. "Well, we all have our issues, don't we?" she says coolly, raking her eyes over Neraset in such a way as to imply that /her/ issues are far worse than others'.
Looking taken aback by that response, Neraset sniffs and flips her hair again, turning over the next page of homework. "Not really. Vaylith and I are doing /very/ well now. And I think I've sorted out any /problems/ I was having, nicely. After all, P'draig told me that I was doing good work." Which is stretching the truth, but that might be what Neraset actually understood out of all the things she was told the other day. "At least my dragon isn't afraid to go out in the rain," she adds on archly, one foot dipping lazily towards the covers. "Or just bizarre like Chadamalith." Vaylith rumbles lowly and dips her muzzle down to nudge at Neraset. << I am terribly sorry, Leisath. Neraset simply wishes to be thought well of, >> the cloverleaf green reaches out to her sister.
Avey turns back to her dragon and rubs oil with both hands on Leisath's patchy spot under her chin, but Neraset's words have her whipping her head around, and then launching to her feet in an angry challenge. "She is not either afraid to go out in the rain. Say that again and I'll beat your head in," she threatens. "You're a fine one to talk about anyone being bizarre." Leisath acknowledges Vaylith with palpable discomfort at her Avey's sudden surge of anger. << She should not say such things >> she says uneasily.
Neraset is still reading, or at least, seems to be. That hopping up to feet earns a roll of eyes from the blonde. "Oh please, we're not /allowed/ to fight," she says superciliously. "Besides, that's just /so/ childish." Fingers flick loosely towards Leisath. "I'm sure she'll catch up to all the other dragons /eventually/," she says with an expression on her face that looks like in her mind, she's being kind and generous. Eyebrows lift faintly at use of the word bizarre to describe her. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me," she says with a little lift of her chin and rolls up onto one hip, flipping the formations book closed and looking Avey right in the eye. Vaylith gives Neraset another nudge, rumbling her own discontent and sliding to her feet as well, protective but also warning. << No, she should not. And I /am/ terribly sorry. She is /shutting me out/! >>
Avey's fists clench, but there remains the logistical difficulty of beating someone's head in while they're lying on their cot: it's hardly sporting. She closes the distance between them with a few steps, and reaches out with oily hands, fulling intending to grab Neraset and drag her off the cot, and /then/ beat her head in.
That forward charge widens Neraset's eyes and she shrinks back a little, mouth making a little O of surprise as Avey approaches and reaches for her. It still hasn't penetrated her brain that yes, Avey does intend to grab her. The blonde lets out a little shriek and Vaylith's wings suddenly flare wide as Avey takes hold of her rider. << Please! Tell her to stop! This isn't right! I will try to get her to apologize! >> Batting hands try to fend off Avey but Neraset probably isn't the most buff of the weyrlings, especially not yet given the physical exercises are only just picking up in earnest.
Avey's grip slips on Neraset's arms, so she grabs her clothing instead, and hauls her off the cot and brings back her arm, intending to punch her hard in the face. "TAKE IT BACK!" she roars. "YOU TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!" Then dragons are shrieking and other weyrlings in the barracks are exclaiming in alarm or in awe (because hey, cool, fight!) with several rushing over to watch, or perhaps to intervene.
"Get OFF ME!" Nerasaet shrieks, duly dragged off the cot. Wild-eyed and flustered, she's still flailing her arms and trying to bat Avey off, maybe hitting her ineffectually by mistake. << Stop it! Stop it! >> Vaylith exclaims loudly enough that most would probably hear. Outside Jekzith lands in the Bowl and sticks his head in through the door to take in the situation. It's probably a good bet that his rider isn't far behind. M'ljen is eyeing the conflict round-eyed and plows in to try to separate the two by slinging an arm around Neraset's waist to drag her backwards and out of the line of fire.
Avey charges forward, still throwing punches, some of which land and some of which do not. "Take it back, you stupid skirt-flipper! HEY! Get out of the way!" That was for M'ljen. Leisath makes a loud, fingernails-on-chalkboard screeching sound and covers her head with her wings. << Stop! Avey, stop! Vaylith! Make her apologize! >>
Poor Neraset. So proud of her looks. That pop to the jaw and one to her eye are not going to be pretty at all. She shrieks in between each blow, lifting an arm in vague defense. "OW! OW!!!!!" she hollers and smacks back, kicking for Avey's shin's and aiming to pull hair. M'ljen's got a good grip though and is pulling her back steadily. "Neraset, stop," he pleads with her. "Look at Vaylith. Come on, this is why we're not supposed to fight!" the young bronzerider says urgently. << This will stop. NOW! >> Jekzith fixing a look on each of the young dragons. << Calm please, both of you. >> And a few seconds later, P'draig pounds in from the far end of the Bowl where he was leading another group in some exercises. He eyes the situation with raised eyebrows and wades in, hand extended for Avey's shoulder. "Both of you, STOP RIGHT NOW."
The noise from the dragons gives Avey pause just long enough for her to be grabbed by P'draig, though she's immediately trying to get free of him and at Neraset again, poking him with elbows. "She insulted Leisath! Take it back, you stupid..." she uses a series of words fit to burn the ears of those hearing, mostly relating to Neraset's private parts and their availability.
P'draig's other hand drops to Avey's shoulder. He's a pretty big guy and definitely in good shape, enough that trifling with him probably isn't a good idea. That firm grip aims to still Avey as he leans down to say quietly and calmly to her: "I said stop, Avey. Weyrlings don't fight over insults. If you don't want to be on Barracks restriction for the rest of your natural born life, get a grip." Meanwhile Jekzith is reassuring both greens and trying to soothe ruffled feelings in that quarter. Neraset's stopped flailing and flapping and is clinging to M'ljen instead, trying to put him between her and Avey. "Oh! Help me! Help me!" she's squealing now, big fat tears running down her cheeks. "She /attacked/ me!" Paddy looks up between the two girls and around at the chaos in the Barracks. "All of you, outside now, go run a lap," he says calmly, but firmly. "M'ljen stay put for now," is the only exception granted.
Avey at least stops trying to get away to hit Neraset again, but she stomps her foot and blazes at P'draig, "I am NOT letting people get away with insulting Leisath! She has to apologize," she insists.
The other weyrlings head outside, some wide-eyed, taken dragonets with them. A few look back over their shoulders and P'draig just gives them a /look/." M'ljen only nods, keeps a grip on Neraset who is by now, weeping and burrowing her face into the young man's shoulder. Paddy keeps hold of Avey, but lessens the firmness of his grip. "That may be, Weyrling, but right now you have bigger things to worry about. Both of you are on Barracks restriction until further notice. Avey, you'll be in that corner, Neraset, over there. The Weyrlingmaster'll be here shortly to tell you what you're both facing for breaking fighting rules." Neraset looks up from M'ljen's shoulder and stares at P'draig in astonishment. "B-b-but she started it! She /attacked/ me, she /hit/ me!" the blonde wails, cheek and eye already swelling up and purpling. Paddy eyes those wounds, looks down at Avey thoughtfully. "Doesn't matter who started it. A fight's a fight and you both have to suck up the consequences. M'ljen, take Neraset to the infirmary to have that shiner seen to," he instructs. "Then you're to come straight back here to see Balinne, understood? Avey, go to see to Leisath then go sit in that far back corner."
Avey huffs at P'draig, "Fine!" she says, and stomps back over to Leisath muttering something under her breath about stupid crybabies. She puts her arm around the green's neck to soothe her, whispering quiet words of encouragement. Leisath quiets easily enough, folding her wings to her back. And no, she does not remind Avey about the forgotten oiling.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath shares a presence, a wall of emotion, the intensity dampened out of courtsey so as not to overwhelm: it's Avey, a small tight ball of fear concealed under roiling waves of anger. Leisath is discontented and uneasy. << Does yours ever do this? >>
Neraset's mouth snaps shut under that firm tone from P'draig and she just nods, sniffles a little and leans all the more on M'ljen. Vaylith snakes her head downward and nuzzles against her rider. THe blonde wipes a hand across her nose and then shifts angles to lean into Vaylith instead. "I'm fine, I promise, I'm fine," she tells the green chokily. Slowly, Vaylith's wings drop down and after a moment where she looks over at Jekzith, the pair exit with M'ljen to head to the Infirmary. Paddy waits, hands on hips while they go, then ambles after Avey, picking up Neraset's book which got knocked off the cot in the shuffle. With this placed again, the brownrider comes over to stand near Avey's cot, waiting for Leisath to be soothed before he speaks. "So. She finally got under your skin?" Brows lift along with the question.
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith soothes further, golden tones infusing his sending to the young green. << Not for a very long time and not very often, >> the brown answers taking in that image thoughtfully. << Comfort her, try to find out why she is so afraid and so angry, but don't be afraid yourself. I'm here and P'draig is here. Everything will be all right. >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath reports with relief, << She is much better now. >> As to the why, though, she knows, even if she doesn't understand it fully: << It's because I am smaller than the others. I didn't mean to be small! >> she says in a tightly focused beam of thought that's meant for Avey not to be able to hear. << I can do everything the other dragons can. >> But there's doubt there.
Avey looks stubborn. "Yeah. But she /still/ doesn't get to insult Leisath," she insists. "I don't care." About the punishment, presumably.
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith listens as Leisath reports back and extends that soothing touch again. << Good, that's really good. Nice job, Leisath, >> the brown compliments sunnily. He seems surprised though by the admission and feels out this idea. << There is nothing wrong with your size, Leisath. You are dainty and lovely, >> the brown says confidently. << When you are grown you will probably fly better than many and will be amazing in the air! >>
"No, insults shouldn't be given," P'draig agrees, "but if you're having that kind of problem, you solve it with words or you bring it up with one of us. You don't hit or fight." He eyes the girl for a moment, clears his throat. "I'm not final judge here, but if I was, you'd be grounded from flying until you shape up that attitude," he tells her plainly. His eyes unfocus for a moment and he furrows his brows, re-centers his gaze on Avey. "What's this about Leisath's size though, Avey?"
Avey stiffens. "There's NOTHING WRONG WITH HER," she says through her teeth, a much-too-vehement denial. Leisath croons, and stretches out her head to nuzzle Avey's ribs. "She's just small! Like I'm short! That's /all/. She can do everything the other dragons can," she insists, completely unaware that she's echoing Leisath's words from just a moment ago.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath accepts that for further evaluation: she's not arguing, but neither is she entirely convinced. << And I do not like the wet. I do not like rain or oil. I just do not like it. >> She's even less confident about this difference, knowing that it perplexes and frustrates Avey. << I just do not like it. It's too cold and dark. Everyone has some things they do not like? >> The last bit turns into a question. But then Avey is doing the fear-anger thing again, and Leisath's attention is deflected toward her, as she tries to emulate Jekzith's sunny-soothing reassurance to calm her rider, with only a corner of her attention still on the brown.
"Stay. Calm." P'draig reminds slanting a meaningful look at Avey. "No one's said there's anything wrong with Leisath. She's a small green but she's not the smallest I've ever seen in over ten turns of training weyrlings," the weyrlingmaster's assistant says with a non-chalant shrug, like it's no big deal. "Has someone been saying that to you? Teasing you about her size? Because if they are, they're off their rocker. Small greens are valuable in a fast-moving wing, especially during a Pass, because they're so agile in the air. It's easier for them to avoid getting scored and move fast to fill in gaps," Paddy says in a measured tone. "Is that what started all of this?"
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith takes all that in too and soothes some more. << Does it feel funny? >> Jekzith asks about those things. << I don't share that, I like to swim, out in the ocean. >> And he projects the feeling of soothing warmth against hide, the lap of waves. << And of course we like and don't like different things! We're different dragons! >> Again sunniness in his tone and then he subsides as Leisath retreats to comfort Avey and he waits before winding a pretty green tendril her way. << Of course, the only problem is that water and oil are meant to keep us clean and our hide looking nice. >>
Avey loops an arm around Leisath's head, lowering her own head to regard the green with frank affection. She rubs her eyeridge fondly, glancing up only briefly to answer P'draig. "Kind of," she mumbles, and then adds in a clearer tone, "/You guys/ said it even. I heard, when Balinne's door was open. Talking in there about how she was behind in curving her growth." A scowl.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath replies with resignation, << Yes, that is what my Avey says. >> There's a distant mental caress, one meant for Avey, not Jekzith. << I do not like it, but I let her wash and oil me. >> Usually. << She says it is best. >> And Leisath trusts Avey.
Up go Paddy's brows again. "I'm pretty sure I said no such thing, Avey," the brownrider says gently. "And just because a dragonet's a little behind the curve, doesn't mean there's anything wrong unless she stops growing altogether and never you know, grows up. But I don't see that, do you?" He looks over at the little green, assessing. "Picture of health. Nice color. And she's got a good strong mind touch with Jekzith."
"/Someone/ did," Avey insists. "Maybe T'mic or that B'ryce guy." She strokes Leisath's head some more. "She's the prettiest green ever," she says stoutly. And woe to anyone who says differently!
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith shifts colors, more yellows and ambers infusing green as he floats bubbles brightly for Leisath. << That's good. Cracked hide doesn't feel good, >> the brown claims. << And you look so nice when you're freshly bathed and oiled. >> There's silent approval for that trust in her rider too.
"Mm. Well, I'm not sure why, or who, and I doubt T'mic would, I mean, he's a greenrider and Aath isn't the biggest green in the world either," he says with a little lift of his shoulders. "Overall, I really wouldn't worry about it," the brownrider continues. "Unless she stalls out, then there could be a health problem or something, but just being a little smaller than everyone else, it's nothing to get in a twist over." He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You're still on restriction though, so stay put over here until Balinne comes. I'm going to go check on Neraset. Okay?"
Avey rolls her eyes. "Fiiiine," she says, with the obligatory display of teenage defiance. But, she seems just as content to stay there and pet Leisath, all the same.
"Drop and give me twenty, the right answer there was 'yessir' with a salute," P'draig says as he stands, waits, arms folded until Avey gets to it. Once she's gotten started, he slips out, leaving Jekzith on watch or just trusting that she'll actually do all twenty pushups."
Avey sighs again, but she drops to begin her pushups. When P'draig turns to leave, she sticks her tongue out at his retreating back, but she does complete all twenty, whether it's out of mindfulness of Jekzith's presence, or just simple pride.
When: It is a summer afternoon, 12:17 of day 27, month 6, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Weyrling Barracks, Ista Weyr
What: Neraset is suitably condescending and Avey retaliates. The fight gets broken up by P'draig who puts both girls on disciplinary detail.
Bali - left room for follow-up from the WLM.
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.
Avey sits on the floor with Leisath, soothing her with her hands, a pot of oil nearby. "I know it's cold," she says, "but you have patchy spots. They'll stop itching if you let me oil them. The sooner we get started, the sooner it's over, right? You can do it," she urges. "Watch: I'm going to rub the oil in my hands to warm it up." And she does, pouring a good handful of oil into her palm and rubbing her hands together, slicking them up good.
A cot or two over, Neraset is flopped on her stomach in predictably short shorts, though her top is at least fully buttoned today. Bare feet swing back and forth as she reads through the next set of formations that have been assigned to the weyrlings to learn. Blond curls flip to the side as she turns her head to look over at the other greenpair. "Is she /still/ fussy about that? Vaylith got over it ages ago, though she /did/ want warm oil when she was first shelled," Neraset announces airily. Vaylith herself is curled serenely on her couch, watching the comings and goings in the Barracks with peaceful blue-green eyes. The tone on her rider though lifts her head and she turns to look at Neraset with what seem like almost maternal disapproval.
Never a fan of Neraset even in the best of circumstances, Avey bristles and narrows her eyes at the other weyrling. "Well, we all have our issues, don't we?" she says coolly, raking her eyes over Neraset in such a way as to imply that /her/ issues are far worse than others'.
Looking taken aback by that response, Neraset sniffs and flips her hair again, turning over the next page of homework. "Not really. Vaylith and I are doing /very/ well now. And I think I've sorted out any /problems/ I was having, nicely. After all, P'draig told me that I was doing good work." Which is stretching the truth, but that might be what Neraset actually understood out of all the things she was told the other day. "At least my dragon isn't afraid to go out in the rain," she adds on archly, one foot dipping lazily towards the covers. "Or just bizarre like Chadamalith." Vaylith rumbles lowly and dips her muzzle down to nudge at Neraset. << I am terribly sorry, Leisath. Neraset simply wishes to be thought well of, >> the cloverleaf green reaches out to her sister.
Avey turns back to her dragon and rubs oil with both hands on Leisath's patchy spot under her chin, but Neraset's words have her whipping her head around, and then launching to her feet in an angry challenge. "She is not either afraid to go out in the rain. Say that again and I'll beat your head in," she threatens. "You're a fine one to talk about anyone being bizarre." Leisath acknowledges Vaylith with palpable discomfort at her Avey's sudden surge of anger. << She should not say such things >> she says uneasily.
Neraset is still reading, or at least, seems to be. That hopping up to feet earns a roll of eyes from the blonde. "Oh please, we're not /allowed/ to fight," she says superciliously. "Besides, that's just /so/ childish." Fingers flick loosely towards Leisath. "I'm sure she'll catch up to all the other dragons /eventually/," she says with an expression on her face that looks like in her mind, she's being kind and generous. Eyebrows lift faintly at use of the word bizarre to describe her. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me," she says with a little lift of her chin and rolls up onto one hip, flipping the formations book closed and looking Avey right in the eye. Vaylith gives Neraset another nudge, rumbling her own discontent and sliding to her feet as well, protective but also warning. << No, she should not. And I /am/ terribly sorry. She is /shutting me out/! >>
Avey's fists clench, but there remains the logistical difficulty of beating someone's head in while they're lying on their cot: it's hardly sporting. She closes the distance between them with a few steps, and reaches out with oily hands, fulling intending to grab Neraset and drag her off the cot, and /then/ beat her head in.
That forward charge widens Neraset's eyes and she shrinks back a little, mouth making a little O of surprise as Avey approaches and reaches for her. It still hasn't penetrated her brain that yes, Avey does intend to grab her. The blonde lets out a little shriek and Vaylith's wings suddenly flare wide as Avey takes hold of her rider. << Please! Tell her to stop! This isn't right! I will try to get her to apologize! >> Batting hands try to fend off Avey but Neraset probably isn't the most buff of the weyrlings, especially not yet given the physical exercises are only just picking up in earnest.
Avey's grip slips on Neraset's arms, so she grabs her clothing instead, and hauls her off the cot and brings back her arm, intending to punch her hard in the face. "TAKE IT BACK!" she roars. "YOU TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!" Then dragons are shrieking and other weyrlings in the barracks are exclaiming in alarm or in awe (because hey, cool, fight!) with several rushing over to watch, or perhaps to intervene.
"Get OFF ME!" Nerasaet shrieks, duly dragged off the cot. Wild-eyed and flustered, she's still flailing her arms and trying to bat Avey off, maybe hitting her ineffectually by mistake. << Stop it! Stop it! >> Vaylith exclaims loudly enough that most would probably hear. Outside Jekzith lands in the Bowl and sticks his head in through the door to take in the situation. It's probably a good bet that his rider isn't far behind. M'ljen is eyeing the conflict round-eyed and plows in to try to separate the two by slinging an arm around Neraset's waist to drag her backwards and out of the line of fire.
Avey charges forward, still throwing punches, some of which land and some of which do not. "Take it back, you stupid skirt-flipper! HEY! Get out of the way!" That was for M'ljen. Leisath makes a loud, fingernails-on-chalkboard screeching sound and covers her head with her wings. << Stop! Avey, stop! Vaylith! Make her apologize! >>
Poor Neraset. So proud of her looks. That pop to the jaw and one to her eye are not going to be pretty at all. She shrieks in between each blow, lifting an arm in vague defense. "OW! OW!!!!!" she hollers and smacks back, kicking for Avey's shin's and aiming to pull hair. M'ljen's got a good grip though and is pulling her back steadily. "Neraset, stop," he pleads with her. "Look at Vaylith. Come on, this is why we're not supposed to fight!" the young bronzerider says urgently. << This will stop. NOW! >> Jekzith fixing a look on each of the young dragons. << Calm please, both of you. >> And a few seconds later, P'draig pounds in from the far end of the Bowl where he was leading another group in some exercises. He eyes the situation with raised eyebrows and wades in, hand extended for Avey's shoulder. "Both of you, STOP RIGHT NOW."
The noise from the dragons gives Avey pause just long enough for her to be grabbed by P'draig, though she's immediately trying to get free of him and at Neraset again, poking him with elbows. "She insulted Leisath! Take it back, you stupid..." she uses a series of words fit to burn the ears of those hearing, mostly relating to Neraset's private parts and their availability.
P'draig's other hand drops to Avey's shoulder. He's a pretty big guy and definitely in good shape, enough that trifling with him probably isn't a good idea. That firm grip aims to still Avey as he leans down to say quietly and calmly to her: "I said stop, Avey. Weyrlings don't fight over insults. If you don't want to be on Barracks restriction for the rest of your natural born life, get a grip." Meanwhile Jekzith is reassuring both greens and trying to soothe ruffled feelings in that quarter. Neraset's stopped flailing and flapping and is clinging to M'ljen instead, trying to put him between her and Avey. "Oh! Help me! Help me!" she's squealing now, big fat tears running down her cheeks. "She /attacked/ me!" Paddy looks up between the two girls and around at the chaos in the Barracks. "All of you, outside now, go run a lap," he says calmly, but firmly. "M'ljen stay put for now," is the only exception granted.
Avey at least stops trying to get away to hit Neraset again, but she stomps her foot and blazes at P'draig, "I am NOT letting people get away with insulting Leisath! She has to apologize," she insists.
The other weyrlings head outside, some wide-eyed, taken dragonets with them. A few look back over their shoulders and P'draig just gives them a /look/." M'ljen only nods, keeps a grip on Neraset who is by now, weeping and burrowing her face into the young man's shoulder. Paddy keeps hold of Avey, but lessens the firmness of his grip. "That may be, Weyrling, but right now you have bigger things to worry about. Both of you are on Barracks restriction until further notice. Avey, you'll be in that corner, Neraset, over there. The Weyrlingmaster'll be here shortly to tell you what you're both facing for breaking fighting rules." Neraset looks up from M'ljen's shoulder and stares at P'draig in astonishment. "B-b-but she started it! She /attacked/ me, she /hit/ me!" the blonde wails, cheek and eye already swelling up and purpling. Paddy eyes those wounds, looks down at Avey thoughtfully. "Doesn't matter who started it. A fight's a fight and you both have to suck up the consequences. M'ljen, take Neraset to the infirmary to have that shiner seen to," he instructs. "Then you're to come straight back here to see Balinne, understood? Avey, go to see to Leisath then go sit in that far back corner."
Avey huffs at P'draig, "Fine!" she says, and stomps back over to Leisath muttering something under her breath about stupid crybabies. She puts her arm around the green's neck to soothe her, whispering quiet words of encouragement. Leisath quiets easily enough, folding her wings to her back. And no, she does not remind Avey about the forgotten oiling.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath shares a presence, a wall of emotion, the intensity dampened out of courtsey so as not to overwhelm: it's Avey, a small tight ball of fear concealed under roiling waves of anger. Leisath is discontented and uneasy. << Does yours ever do this? >>
Neraset's mouth snaps shut under that firm tone from P'draig and she just nods, sniffles a little and leans all the more on M'ljen. Vaylith snakes her head downward and nuzzles against her rider. THe blonde wipes a hand across her nose and then shifts angles to lean into Vaylith instead. "I'm fine, I promise, I'm fine," she tells the green chokily. Slowly, Vaylith's wings drop down and after a moment where she looks over at Jekzith, the pair exit with M'ljen to head to the Infirmary. Paddy waits, hands on hips while they go, then ambles after Avey, picking up Neraset's book which got knocked off the cot in the shuffle. With this placed again, the brownrider comes over to stand near Avey's cot, waiting for Leisath to be soothed before he speaks. "So. She finally got under your skin?" Brows lift along with the question.
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith soothes further, golden tones infusing his sending to the young green. << Not for a very long time and not very often, >> the brown answers taking in that image thoughtfully. << Comfort her, try to find out why she is so afraid and so angry, but don't be afraid yourself. I'm here and P'draig is here. Everything will be all right. >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath reports with relief, << She is much better now. >> As to the why, though, she knows, even if she doesn't understand it fully: << It's because I am smaller than the others. I didn't mean to be small! >> she says in a tightly focused beam of thought that's meant for Avey not to be able to hear. << I can do everything the other dragons can. >> But there's doubt there.
Avey looks stubborn. "Yeah. But she /still/ doesn't get to insult Leisath," she insists. "I don't care." About the punishment, presumably.
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith listens as Leisath reports back and extends that soothing touch again. << Good, that's really good. Nice job, Leisath, >> the brown compliments sunnily. He seems surprised though by the admission and feels out this idea. << There is nothing wrong with your size, Leisath. You are dainty and lovely, >> the brown says confidently. << When you are grown you will probably fly better than many and will be amazing in the air! >>
"No, insults shouldn't be given," P'draig agrees, "but if you're having that kind of problem, you solve it with words or you bring it up with one of us. You don't hit or fight." He eyes the girl for a moment, clears his throat. "I'm not final judge here, but if I was, you'd be grounded from flying until you shape up that attitude," he tells her plainly. His eyes unfocus for a moment and he furrows his brows, re-centers his gaze on Avey. "What's this about Leisath's size though, Avey?"
Avey stiffens. "There's NOTHING WRONG WITH HER," she says through her teeth, a much-too-vehement denial. Leisath croons, and stretches out her head to nuzzle Avey's ribs. "She's just small! Like I'm short! That's /all/. She can do everything the other dragons can," she insists, completely unaware that she's echoing Leisath's words from just a moment ago.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath accepts that for further evaluation: she's not arguing, but neither is she entirely convinced. << And I do not like the wet. I do not like rain or oil. I just do not like it. >> She's even less confident about this difference, knowing that it perplexes and frustrates Avey. << I just do not like it. It's too cold and dark. Everyone has some things they do not like? >> The last bit turns into a question. But then Avey is doing the fear-anger thing again, and Leisath's attention is deflected toward her, as she tries to emulate Jekzith's sunny-soothing reassurance to calm her rider, with only a corner of her attention still on the brown.
"Stay. Calm." P'draig reminds slanting a meaningful look at Avey. "No one's said there's anything wrong with Leisath. She's a small green but she's not the smallest I've ever seen in over ten turns of training weyrlings," the weyrlingmaster's assistant says with a non-chalant shrug, like it's no big deal. "Has someone been saying that to you? Teasing you about her size? Because if they are, they're off their rocker. Small greens are valuable in a fast-moving wing, especially during a Pass, because they're so agile in the air. It's easier for them to avoid getting scored and move fast to fill in gaps," Paddy says in a measured tone. "Is that what started all of this?"
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith takes all that in too and soothes some more. << Does it feel funny? >> Jekzith asks about those things. << I don't share that, I like to swim, out in the ocean. >> And he projects the feeling of soothing warmth against hide, the lap of waves. << And of course we like and don't like different things! We're different dragons! >> Again sunniness in his tone and then he subsides as Leisath retreats to comfort Avey and he waits before winding a pretty green tendril her way. << Of course, the only problem is that water and oil are meant to keep us clean and our hide looking nice. >>
Avey loops an arm around Leisath's head, lowering her own head to regard the green with frank affection. She rubs her eyeridge fondly, glancing up only briefly to answer P'draig. "Kind of," she mumbles, and then adds in a clearer tone, "/You guys/ said it even. I heard, when Balinne's door was open. Talking in there about how she was behind in curving her growth." A scowl.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Leisath replies with resignation, << Yes, that is what my Avey says. >> There's a distant mental caress, one meant for Avey, not Jekzith. << I do not like it, but I let her wash and oil me. >> Usually. << She says it is best. >> And Leisath trusts Avey.
Up go Paddy's brows again. "I'm pretty sure I said no such thing, Avey," the brownrider says gently. "And just because a dragonet's a little behind the curve, doesn't mean there's anything wrong unless she stops growing altogether and never you know, grows up. But I don't see that, do you?" He looks over at the little green, assessing. "Picture of health. Nice color. And she's got a good strong mind touch with Jekzith."
"/Someone/ did," Avey insists. "Maybe T'mic or that B'ryce guy." She strokes Leisath's head some more. "She's the prettiest green ever," she says stoutly. And woe to anyone who says differently!
Dragon> To Leisath, Jekzith shifts colors, more yellows and ambers infusing green as he floats bubbles brightly for Leisath. << That's good. Cracked hide doesn't feel good, >> the brown claims. << And you look so nice when you're freshly bathed and oiled. >> There's silent approval for that trust in her rider too.
"Mm. Well, I'm not sure why, or who, and I doubt T'mic would, I mean, he's a greenrider and Aath isn't the biggest green in the world either," he says with a little lift of his shoulders. "Overall, I really wouldn't worry about it," the brownrider continues. "Unless she stalls out, then there could be a health problem or something, but just being a little smaller than everyone else, it's nothing to get in a twist over." He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You're still on restriction though, so stay put over here until Balinne comes. I'm going to go check on Neraset. Okay?"
Avey rolls her eyes. "Fiiiine," she says, with the obligatory display of teenage defiance. But, she seems just as content to stay there and pet Leisath, all the same.
"Drop and give me twenty, the right answer there was 'yessir' with a salute," P'draig says as he stands, waits, arms folded until Avey gets to it. Once she's gotten started, he slips out, leaving Jekzith on watch or just trusting that she'll actually do all twenty pushups."
Avey sighs again, but she drops to begin her pushups. When P'draig turns to leave, she sticks her tongue out at his retreating back, but she does complete all twenty, whether it's out of mindfulness of Jekzith's presence, or just simple pride.