Log: Weyrling Visit
Who: E'rik, Illya, P'draig, T'mic, Aath, Seith, Jekzith
When: 8:06 on day 16, month 8, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval.
Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
What: Out for a walk, P'draig and Illya are having a serious sort of chat about recent events when E'rik and T'mic drop in from Ista. T'mic macks on Illya. Paddy tries to be pleasant.
It's still relatively early when P'draig ambles down the lake shore with Illya on his arm. "So then Jekzith almost collided with Sh'vrit and Bandalth but he managed to roll out of the way in time. The method's a good idea, but it does get a little tricky sometimes. Still, we're learning it. Ankles doing any better?" That last is asked considerately and in a lower tone than the rest of what he was saying.
"Better if you're a tree." Illya replies rather sourly, her mood not at its best. She sighs for a moment, rubbing at her wrist with her free hand, "Method's all very well, but if they're not careful there's going to be a lot of injured dragons. We're already down in numbers just because the golds aren't laying enough."
The Weyrlingmaster gives the greenrider's arm a light squeeze. "Hopefully this will help." P'draig's voice is soothing, calm then he nods and sighs as well, looking out over the water. "I know. It's why we're practicing it all so much. The whole point of this is to save lives, not incur yet more losses we can ill afford. Especially after what happened up at Crom. Everyone's on edge even more than they were."
Illya nods, though she's most definitely not certain that anything will help at the moment. "I never thought I'd say it but I hope Ciath goes up soon. I wonder if they're going to try to ground the browns so that she'll have a chance of a gold egg. It won't help now, but...." She breaks off and shrugs, "Hopefully they'll not make us fly at night. So far I think the queen's wing is he only one not trying it."
"Mm. I don't know, honestly. Though the more golds we have, even with clutches smaller, the more dragons overall. Could be one way to get around the lower numbers, /if/ a gold is laid. It's almost a shame that greens can't lay." His mouth twists wryly at that thought. "Though I suppose we'd be up to our eyeballs in dragons in no time flat if they could and there'd be more than one clutch on the Sands at a time. Messy." He makes a face about the night flying. "Mph. Well it has to be done. Just in case. Though I admit, it scares the pants off me, flying Thread blind. Even if dragons can see a lot better in the dark than we can."
Illya laughs at that thought. "Don't say it too loud, Azath would love to be able to have an egg even if it's only one. Hopefully the baby will distract her, though she does like singing to it even now. She doesn't quite understand that once it's born it won't have to hatch, but we're getting there." Sadly her laughter doesn't last too long as more serious topics come back to the fore. "It scares me a lot. Even the thought of practicing it without thread. It's too dangerous, but of course nobody is allowed to tell the Weyrleaders that."
"I'll be careful not to mention it around Azath. It's ... kind of sweet that she wants that. Maybe when Lady goes up next, she could watch some of her eggs? They're a lot smaller, but ... they'd hatch and all." P'draig says that musingly, smiling for Illya's laughter until solemnity resumes. "The practice ... yeah. Well it'd suck to wind up crisping each other. And sure we're /allowed/ just doesn't mean they have to listen."
"Only if you take them away before they need fed." illya replies quickly, "I'v never been too keen on firelizards. Too messy." She nods to the next, "You would think if enough people told them the same thing they might stop and think, but I suppose that will never happen. You have to wonder how many accidents it'll take before they actually realise."
"Of course, just line up some folks who want to Impress them. There's that whole program they're running out of the Reaches, they're asking for lizard eggs all the time to have available for the program." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Well ... it's a tough balance to strike really. I don't envy M'yr and Jenna all these difficult decisions. Either way, no matter what they decide, they lose. We lose."
"Well call me selfish but I do not want my child growing up without a father because of a scheme that everyone is against and thinks dangerous." Illya replies, tone harsh with brutal honesty. "They can lose because of a stupid decision, I don't want to lose because of it."
P'draig stops walking and slide his arm around Illya. "Hey ... it'll be okay, Illya. Y'know, I'm pretty sure it'll all get sorted. But ... it is a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If they decide we don't fly at night, Thread will fall unhindered and people will die if they get caught out in it." He clears his throat once and tries to drop a kiss onto her forehead. "That said, I am not keen on dying either. Got too much to look forward to."
"Why can't they just make a curfew." Illya suggests, "Fix up the holds and then make people stay in." She pauses and looks up, frowning, "And you're not allowed to die. Not now. If you even...." Another pause and she shakes her head, "Just don't, okay?"
Above the southwest area, Seith folds his wings and dives into the waters below, surfacing in the shallows.
Above the southwest area, Aath spirals down and comes to a landing on the lake shore.
"They can try to do that, but if the Holders don't agree, they can't enforce it. It's all ... diplomacy and politics." P'draig makes another face then nods solemnly. "I am not planning on dying Illya, or doing anything foolish enough to put me in the way of it." The Weyrlingmaster gives the greenrider a hug then looks up as the shadow of dragons passes by overhead. "Oh shells ..." he mutters after a moment, recognizing Aath and the rider on her back. "Looks like we've got company from Ista."
Seith follows behind Aath quickly, at one point gliding past her as he zips around eagerly. He slows to let Aath pass him and then follows to land on the shore beside the Ista green. E'rik undoes his buckle, dismounting and jumping off. He punches a fist into the air excitedly, though he's just a tad pale. "That was awseome!" he grins boyishly. "P'draig!" he beams.
E'rik climbs down from Seith's neck.
Illya blinks, looking up and wincing at the mention of Ista. "Do I need to get ready to leave quickly or is it safe to stay?" Her eyes follow the movement of the Istan green and brown, tracking them till they land. As E'rik dismounts she untenses a little, though keeps her eyes on Aath till her rider is seen as well.
Aath settles down a little way from the exuberant weyrling, her entire manner that of ballgowns and debutantes. On her back Mic unstraps, sliding down to land easily. "Manners, weyrling," he calls as he approaches the Fortians. Then, to demonstrate, "Ista's duties to Fort and her queens."
T'mic climbs down from Aath's neck.
E'rik ohs quickly, hastily saying behind T'mic. "Ista's duties to queens and her eggs." he stammers. "Er, I mean to Fort and her queens."
"Enh, T'mic's mostly harmless, though I don't think he likes me much since T'rien and I dunked him in the ocean that one time he was drunk as a wherry and bothering some folks. Anyway, looks like he's brought one of the Weyrlings ..." he squints some more and then laughs as E'rik pumps his fist and waves and calls out. "That's E'rik. He's a good egg. C'mon, come say hello?" So saying, he reaches for Illya's hand to draw her after him towards the Istans. "And Fort's back to you, T'mic, E'rik, it's good to see you."
Illya relaxes visibly when neither name is the one she was dreading. She nods politely to the two men, "Fort's duties." She's a litle stiff, formal even. "What brings you to our door today?"
"Weyrlingmaster," T'mic agrees politely, but it's Illya his smile blossoms at. "Some basic *between* lessons. Lucky for us. I'm T'mic, that's Aath, and who might -you- be?"
E'rik strides up, glancing and noding to Illya. "Training. Seith and I did good!" he says proudly.
It's P'draig's turn to tense up a little as T'mic immediately puts on the charm for Illya, but he smiles and performs introductions correctly. "T'mic, this is Illya, green Azath's rider. Illya, T'mic's managed his own introduction but the young fellow on the brown is E'rik and that's his Seith. T'mic's assisting with the Weyrlings at Ista and E'rik Impressed out of Jekzith and Nalaieth's clutch." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "How've you both been? About ready to get out of training E'rik?"
"Congratulations." Illya's tone is perhaps not the happiest ever, but the accompanying nod shows at least a little approval. Her nod to T'mic is one of greeting, "Pleasure to meet you T'mic. I hope the weyrlings aren't giving you too much in the way of trouble."
Since P'draig has E'rik well in hand, that frees up Mic to continue paying court to Illya. "Not as much as I gave my weyrlingmaster, I'm sure. Illya, he said? Beautiful name. Azath, Aath - do they look alike, as well as sound alike?"
E'rik grins lopsidedly at P'draig, clearly pleased to see the Fortian brownrider again. "I think Seith and I will be ready when they say we are." he say smugly of his lifemate who's now lounging where he landed. "We've firestone training soon."
Illya flickers a quick smile, "I'm sure it's the job of all weyrlings to make their weyrlingmaster's life as difficult as possible. Some of us never stop." At his next question she quickly glances over to where Aath is sitting and shakes her head, "Azath's more of a true green, far less yellow in her hide."
"Before you know it you'll be tapped into a wing," says P'draig encourgaingly to E'rik. Through all this, the Fortian Weyrlingmaster hasn't released Illya's hand in spite of T'mic's usual flirtation. He looks over at Aath, lips quirking ever so slightly at Illya's typically honest reply and nods. "They're proportioned a little differently too. Both lovely greens though."
E'rik nods, his expression totally serious. "I can't wait to be tapped into a weyr. The Weyrlingmaster is training us very well. I know we'll be able to fight well." he assures. Seith lumbers to his feet, preening a little bit as he watches the two greens.
T'mic glances P'draig's way, then straightens, turning to ostensibly study Aath. /She/ is busily arranging herself Just So on the beach, complete with minute adjustments of wing and leg, tail and neck. Of -course- she doesn't know she's being watched. "I love the yellow on her - reminds me of sunshine. But I'm sure your Azath is lovely, too. Whose clutch is she from?"
Aath wears the two-tone glow of forest green satin and sun-drenched chiffon with all the decadent sensuality of a negligee, as though she revels in the feel of her own skin. Gleaming yellow spreads here and there about her curves: radiates from the curve of her jaw, flickers along her neck and shoulders, accentuates the round line of her haunches, and lends definition to a shapely build. Her limbs are delicate, legs and tail slender and wings dainty. Chips of sunlight and blue-green baguettes are strewn across her wingsails like a flimsy peignoir draped across her fine spars. Her headknobs and neat little neckridges sparkle like diamonds draped enticingly down her spine. That soft glimmer of silken light gathers around the base of each bump along her neck and offsets their dark green glint. Her faceted eyes have heavy lids and arched ridges, giving her a perpetual come-hither countenance.
"She is, yes." Illya replies, then adds, "She was from Soldreth and Niyath's clutch. Hatched and Impressed first." Yes, she's very proud of that fact. "Your Aath is younger, perhaps. Though not by much I wouldn't think."
Watching Aath rearrange herself, P'draig lets out a soft chuckle. "She certainly seems to know she's a looker too. From Niyath and Soldreth's second clutch." The Weyrlingmaster adds for Illya's explanation then smiles again for E'rik's exuberance. "I'm sure you both will be welcome additions to the fighting ranks at Ista."
E'rik beams lopsidely. "Seith was the first one hatched too." he says quickly. His gaze slides from Illya to P'draig, puffing his chest out proudly. Seith adds a low bugle of agreement from where he is.
T'mic gives E'rik a long sidelong look. "Once he's finished his training," is all he says. "They're a ways off from being ready to be tapped, no matter how big the dragons are,"
Illya turns away from T'mic, flickering another smile to E'rik. "First hatched tend to have the most sense, or so it seems. I'm sure you'll do well whenever you're ready so long as you stay away from bad influences."
E'rik grins. "I'll be careful." he assures the Fortian greenrider. He glances back towards Seith, casting a loving look to his lifemate. "We've still a lot of training left I am sure."
"So he was!" P'draig nods a few times, remembering the most recent clutching. Jekzith drops down out of the sky then, caroling a bright greeting to Seith and a more polite warble for Aath. As always interested in /his/ offspring. "Oh so it's sense that first hatched have huh?" Paddy teases Illya a little and squeezes her hand lightly. "At any rate, Seith looks like he's growing very well and it sounds like everyone's progressing right on time."
Seith looks up and greets Jekzith with a hearty bugle. Spreading his wings a little to show off his larger wingspan as he's growing so quickly. E'rik chuckles a little at the brown's antics.
Aath gives the older brown a warm rumble, turning her head to show off the arch of her neck. "We ought to be going," her rider says, regretful as he makes his farewells to Illya. "Perhaps we'll be lucky enough to see you the next time we visit. --And you, Weyrlingmaster," he adds, remembering manners.
E'rik seems oblivious to T'mic's flirtations with Illya as he's too busy taking in the sights of the lake and everything else around it. He is quick to hear T'mic's intentions to depart, a small sigh escaping. "I will be able to go to places with the other riders now, T'mic?" he asks.
"Sense and looks." Illya replies to P'draig with perhaps a touch too much sincerity, "Though that does depend on the parents." As T'mic announces their leaving Illay turns to him and nods once more, "I'm sure you will, I'm rather a fixture here these days. And there will definitely be a lot more of me to see very soon."
"That's something to look forward to," Mic says with another brilliant smile. E'rik's question drags him unpleasantly back to the lakeshore. "--Huh, what? Oh - depends on what Fadra has to say. We'll see."
E'rik offers a salute to P'draig and Illya. "Well met Illya. Good seeing you Weyrlingmaster P'draig! Come by and see the other weyrlings sometimes!" he grabs a hold of Seith's straps and mounts up.
Touching noses briefly, Jekzith settles down to trade some light chit-chat with both Seith and Aath though his enthusiasm is all for Seith. P'draig smiles down at Illya and nods. "There you have it E'rik. Sense and looks. You're set for life." He winks broadly then lets out a long breath as T'mic announces the intent to head back to Ista. "Of course, first Betweening is always something to be careful about and rest up after. Hope we'll see you again sometime both of you. Clear skies, T'mic, E'rik."
Upon Seith, E'rik grins that boyish smile again. "I'll get more girls that way!" he declares to P'draig. "Clear skies!" he waves down to both riders.
Illya echoes P'draig's sentiment with a "Clear skies, gentlemen." of her own. She falls silent, waiting till they're out of hearing to comment any more.
With another grin for Illya, Mic swings back to join Aath, who slowly pulls herself from her ever-so-pretty display. Goggles and gloves on, he pulls himself onto her back.
Dragon> Jekzith and Seith sense that Aath 'accidentally' lets the older brown in, saying, << Up again, Seith. Then have yours give you the image for home. >>
Dragon> Jekzith and Aath sense that Seith eagerly projects the Ista weyr image to both Brown and Green. << We have the image! Jekzith can come play at our Weyr soon?>> He asks hopefully.
Seith launches himself up quickly and carefully, spiraling up slowly.
Aath takes her own sweet time going up. Of -course- she's merely setting a good example for Seith. Has nothing to do with her audience at all.
Above the southwest area, Seith disappears into Between.
Above the southwest area, Aath disappears into Between.
P'draig lets out another long breath as the Istans depart and hugs Illya one-armed again. "So yeah. That was T'mic." He shoots a look over at Illya, something a little funny about his manner.
Once the others are safely out of the way Illya adds, "Vile man. Next time I think I might throw up on him and see if he still flirts then." She pauses, then asks, "I think I'm going to go in. Do you mind?"
P'draig laughs a little and drops a kiss onto her forehead. "Sure, go have a rest. I'll talk to you later."
When: 8:06 on day 16, month 8, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval.
Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
What: Out for a walk, P'draig and Illya are having a serious sort of chat about recent events when E'rik and T'mic drop in from Ista. T'mic macks on Illya. Paddy tries to be pleasant.
It's still relatively early when P'draig ambles down the lake shore with Illya on his arm. "So then Jekzith almost collided with Sh'vrit and Bandalth but he managed to roll out of the way in time. The method's a good idea, but it does get a little tricky sometimes. Still, we're learning it. Ankles doing any better?" That last is asked considerately and in a lower tone than the rest of what he was saying.
"Better if you're a tree." Illya replies rather sourly, her mood not at its best. She sighs for a moment, rubbing at her wrist with her free hand, "Method's all very well, but if they're not careful there's going to be a lot of injured dragons. We're already down in numbers just because the golds aren't laying enough."
The Weyrlingmaster gives the greenrider's arm a light squeeze. "Hopefully this will help." P'draig's voice is soothing, calm then he nods and sighs as well, looking out over the water. "I know. It's why we're practicing it all so much. The whole point of this is to save lives, not incur yet more losses we can ill afford. Especially after what happened up at Crom. Everyone's on edge even more than they were."
Illya nods, though she's most definitely not certain that anything will help at the moment. "I never thought I'd say it but I hope Ciath goes up soon. I wonder if they're going to try to ground the browns so that she'll have a chance of a gold egg. It won't help now, but...." She breaks off and shrugs, "Hopefully they'll not make us fly at night. So far I think the queen's wing is he only one not trying it."
"Mm. I don't know, honestly. Though the more golds we have, even with clutches smaller, the more dragons overall. Could be one way to get around the lower numbers, /if/ a gold is laid. It's almost a shame that greens can't lay." His mouth twists wryly at that thought. "Though I suppose we'd be up to our eyeballs in dragons in no time flat if they could and there'd be more than one clutch on the Sands at a time. Messy." He makes a face about the night flying. "Mph. Well it has to be done. Just in case. Though I admit, it scares the pants off me, flying Thread blind. Even if dragons can see a lot better in the dark than we can."
Illya laughs at that thought. "Don't say it too loud, Azath would love to be able to have an egg even if it's only one. Hopefully the baby will distract her, though she does like singing to it even now. She doesn't quite understand that once it's born it won't have to hatch, but we're getting there." Sadly her laughter doesn't last too long as more serious topics come back to the fore. "It scares me a lot. Even the thought of practicing it without thread. It's too dangerous, but of course nobody is allowed to tell the Weyrleaders that."
"I'll be careful not to mention it around Azath. It's ... kind of sweet that she wants that. Maybe when Lady goes up next, she could watch some of her eggs? They're a lot smaller, but ... they'd hatch and all." P'draig says that musingly, smiling for Illya's laughter until solemnity resumes. "The practice ... yeah. Well it'd suck to wind up crisping each other. And sure we're /allowed/ just doesn't mean they have to listen."
"Only if you take them away before they need fed." illya replies quickly, "I'v never been too keen on firelizards. Too messy." She nods to the next, "You would think if enough people told them the same thing they might stop and think, but I suppose that will never happen. You have to wonder how many accidents it'll take before they actually realise."
"Of course, just line up some folks who want to Impress them. There's that whole program they're running out of the Reaches, they're asking for lizard eggs all the time to have available for the program." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Well ... it's a tough balance to strike really. I don't envy M'yr and Jenna all these difficult decisions. Either way, no matter what they decide, they lose. We lose."
"Well call me selfish but I do not want my child growing up without a father because of a scheme that everyone is against and thinks dangerous." Illya replies, tone harsh with brutal honesty. "They can lose because of a stupid decision, I don't want to lose because of it."
P'draig stops walking and slide his arm around Illya. "Hey ... it'll be okay, Illya. Y'know, I'm pretty sure it'll all get sorted. But ... it is a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If they decide we don't fly at night, Thread will fall unhindered and people will die if they get caught out in it." He clears his throat once and tries to drop a kiss onto her forehead. "That said, I am not keen on dying either. Got too much to look forward to."
"Why can't they just make a curfew." Illya suggests, "Fix up the holds and then make people stay in." She pauses and looks up, frowning, "And you're not allowed to die. Not now. If you even...." Another pause and she shakes her head, "Just don't, okay?"
Above the southwest area, Seith folds his wings and dives into the waters below, surfacing in the shallows.
Above the southwest area, Aath spirals down and comes to a landing on the lake shore.
"They can try to do that, but if the Holders don't agree, they can't enforce it. It's all ... diplomacy and politics." P'draig makes another face then nods solemnly. "I am not planning on dying Illya, or doing anything foolish enough to put me in the way of it." The Weyrlingmaster gives the greenrider a hug then looks up as the shadow of dragons passes by overhead. "Oh shells ..." he mutters after a moment, recognizing Aath and the rider on her back. "Looks like we've got company from Ista."
Seith follows behind Aath quickly, at one point gliding past her as he zips around eagerly. He slows to let Aath pass him and then follows to land on the shore beside the Ista green. E'rik undoes his buckle, dismounting and jumping off. He punches a fist into the air excitedly, though he's just a tad pale. "That was awseome!" he grins boyishly. "P'draig!" he beams.
E'rik climbs down from Seith's neck.
Illya blinks, looking up and wincing at the mention of Ista. "Do I need to get ready to leave quickly or is it safe to stay?" Her eyes follow the movement of the Istan green and brown, tracking them till they land. As E'rik dismounts she untenses a little, though keeps her eyes on Aath till her rider is seen as well.
Aath settles down a little way from the exuberant weyrling, her entire manner that of ballgowns and debutantes. On her back Mic unstraps, sliding down to land easily. "Manners, weyrling," he calls as he approaches the Fortians. Then, to demonstrate, "Ista's duties to Fort and her queens."
T'mic climbs down from Aath's neck.
E'rik ohs quickly, hastily saying behind T'mic. "Ista's duties to queens and her eggs." he stammers. "Er, I mean to Fort and her queens."
"Enh, T'mic's mostly harmless, though I don't think he likes me much since T'rien and I dunked him in the ocean that one time he was drunk as a wherry and bothering some folks. Anyway, looks like he's brought one of the Weyrlings ..." he squints some more and then laughs as E'rik pumps his fist and waves and calls out. "That's E'rik. He's a good egg. C'mon, come say hello?" So saying, he reaches for Illya's hand to draw her after him towards the Istans. "And Fort's back to you, T'mic, E'rik, it's good to see you."
Illya relaxes visibly when neither name is the one she was dreading. She nods politely to the two men, "Fort's duties." She's a litle stiff, formal even. "What brings you to our door today?"
"Weyrlingmaster," T'mic agrees politely, but it's Illya his smile blossoms at. "Some basic *between* lessons. Lucky for us. I'm T'mic, that's Aath, and who might -you- be?"
E'rik strides up, glancing and noding to Illya. "Training. Seith and I did good!" he says proudly.
It's P'draig's turn to tense up a little as T'mic immediately puts on the charm for Illya, but he smiles and performs introductions correctly. "T'mic, this is Illya, green Azath's rider. Illya, T'mic's managed his own introduction but the young fellow on the brown is E'rik and that's his Seith. T'mic's assisting with the Weyrlings at Ista and E'rik Impressed out of Jekzith and Nalaieth's clutch." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "How've you both been? About ready to get out of training E'rik?"
"Congratulations." Illya's tone is perhaps not the happiest ever, but the accompanying nod shows at least a little approval. Her nod to T'mic is one of greeting, "Pleasure to meet you T'mic. I hope the weyrlings aren't giving you too much in the way of trouble."
Since P'draig has E'rik well in hand, that frees up Mic to continue paying court to Illya. "Not as much as I gave my weyrlingmaster, I'm sure. Illya, he said? Beautiful name. Azath, Aath - do they look alike, as well as sound alike?"
E'rik grins lopsidedly at P'draig, clearly pleased to see the Fortian brownrider again. "I think Seith and I will be ready when they say we are." he say smugly of his lifemate who's now lounging where he landed. "We've firestone training soon."
Illya flickers a quick smile, "I'm sure it's the job of all weyrlings to make their weyrlingmaster's life as difficult as possible. Some of us never stop." At his next question she quickly glances over to where Aath is sitting and shakes her head, "Azath's more of a true green, far less yellow in her hide."
"Before you know it you'll be tapped into a wing," says P'draig encourgaingly to E'rik. Through all this, the Fortian Weyrlingmaster hasn't released Illya's hand in spite of T'mic's usual flirtation. He looks over at Aath, lips quirking ever so slightly at Illya's typically honest reply and nods. "They're proportioned a little differently too. Both lovely greens though."
E'rik nods, his expression totally serious. "I can't wait to be tapped into a weyr. The Weyrlingmaster is training us very well. I know we'll be able to fight well." he assures. Seith lumbers to his feet, preening a little bit as he watches the two greens.
T'mic glances P'draig's way, then straightens, turning to ostensibly study Aath. /She/ is busily arranging herself Just So on the beach, complete with minute adjustments of wing and leg, tail and neck. Of -course- she doesn't know she's being watched. "I love the yellow on her - reminds me of sunshine. But I'm sure your Azath is lovely, too. Whose clutch is she from?"
Aath wears the two-tone glow of forest green satin and sun-drenched chiffon with all the decadent sensuality of a negligee, as though she revels in the feel of her own skin. Gleaming yellow spreads here and there about her curves: radiates from the curve of her jaw, flickers along her neck and shoulders, accentuates the round line of her haunches, and lends definition to a shapely build. Her limbs are delicate, legs and tail slender and wings dainty. Chips of sunlight and blue-green baguettes are strewn across her wingsails like a flimsy peignoir draped across her fine spars. Her headknobs and neat little neckridges sparkle like diamonds draped enticingly down her spine. That soft glimmer of silken light gathers around the base of each bump along her neck and offsets their dark green glint. Her faceted eyes have heavy lids and arched ridges, giving her a perpetual come-hither countenance.
"She is, yes." Illya replies, then adds, "She was from Soldreth and Niyath's clutch. Hatched and Impressed first." Yes, she's very proud of that fact. "Your Aath is younger, perhaps. Though not by much I wouldn't think."
Watching Aath rearrange herself, P'draig lets out a soft chuckle. "She certainly seems to know she's a looker too. From Niyath and Soldreth's second clutch." The Weyrlingmaster adds for Illya's explanation then smiles again for E'rik's exuberance. "I'm sure you both will be welcome additions to the fighting ranks at Ista."
E'rik beams lopsidely. "Seith was the first one hatched too." he says quickly. His gaze slides from Illya to P'draig, puffing his chest out proudly. Seith adds a low bugle of agreement from where he is.
T'mic gives E'rik a long sidelong look. "Once he's finished his training," is all he says. "They're a ways off from being ready to be tapped, no matter how big the dragons are,"
Illya turns away from T'mic, flickering another smile to E'rik. "First hatched tend to have the most sense, or so it seems. I'm sure you'll do well whenever you're ready so long as you stay away from bad influences."
E'rik grins. "I'll be careful." he assures the Fortian greenrider. He glances back towards Seith, casting a loving look to his lifemate. "We've still a lot of training left I am sure."
"So he was!" P'draig nods a few times, remembering the most recent clutching. Jekzith drops down out of the sky then, caroling a bright greeting to Seith and a more polite warble for Aath. As always interested in /his/ offspring. "Oh so it's sense that first hatched have huh?" Paddy teases Illya a little and squeezes her hand lightly. "At any rate, Seith looks like he's growing very well and it sounds like everyone's progressing right on time."
Seith looks up and greets Jekzith with a hearty bugle. Spreading his wings a little to show off his larger wingspan as he's growing so quickly. E'rik chuckles a little at the brown's antics.
Aath gives the older brown a warm rumble, turning her head to show off the arch of her neck. "We ought to be going," her rider says, regretful as he makes his farewells to Illya. "Perhaps we'll be lucky enough to see you the next time we visit. --And you, Weyrlingmaster," he adds, remembering manners.
E'rik seems oblivious to T'mic's flirtations with Illya as he's too busy taking in the sights of the lake and everything else around it. He is quick to hear T'mic's intentions to depart, a small sigh escaping. "I will be able to go to places with the other riders now, T'mic?" he asks.
"Sense and looks." Illya replies to P'draig with perhaps a touch too much sincerity, "Though that does depend on the parents." As T'mic announces their leaving Illay turns to him and nods once more, "I'm sure you will, I'm rather a fixture here these days. And there will definitely be a lot more of me to see very soon."
"That's something to look forward to," Mic says with another brilliant smile. E'rik's question drags him unpleasantly back to the lakeshore. "--Huh, what? Oh - depends on what Fadra has to say. We'll see."
E'rik offers a salute to P'draig and Illya. "Well met Illya. Good seeing you Weyrlingmaster P'draig! Come by and see the other weyrlings sometimes!" he grabs a hold of Seith's straps and mounts up.
Touching noses briefly, Jekzith settles down to trade some light chit-chat with both Seith and Aath though his enthusiasm is all for Seith. P'draig smiles down at Illya and nods. "There you have it E'rik. Sense and looks. You're set for life." He winks broadly then lets out a long breath as T'mic announces the intent to head back to Ista. "Of course, first Betweening is always something to be careful about and rest up after. Hope we'll see you again sometime both of you. Clear skies, T'mic, E'rik."
Upon Seith, E'rik grins that boyish smile again. "I'll get more girls that way!" he declares to P'draig. "Clear skies!" he waves down to both riders.
Illya echoes P'draig's sentiment with a "Clear skies, gentlemen." of her own. She falls silent, waiting till they're out of hearing to comment any more.
With another grin for Illya, Mic swings back to join Aath, who slowly pulls herself from her ever-so-pretty display. Goggles and gloves on, he pulls himself onto her back.
Dragon> Jekzith and Seith sense that Aath 'accidentally' lets the older brown in, saying, << Up again, Seith. Then have yours give you the image for home. >>
Dragon> Jekzith and Aath sense that Seith eagerly projects the Ista weyr image to both Brown and Green. << We have the image! Jekzith can come play at our Weyr soon?>> He asks hopefully.
Seith launches himself up quickly and carefully, spiraling up slowly.
Aath takes her own sweet time going up. Of -course- she's merely setting a good example for Seith. Has nothing to do with her audience at all.
Above the southwest area, Seith disappears into Between.
Above the southwest area, Aath disappears into Between.
P'draig lets out another long breath as the Istans depart and hugs Illya one-armed again. "So yeah. That was T'mic." He shoots a look over at Illya, something a little funny about his manner.
Once the others are safely out of the way Illya adds, "Vile man. Next time I think I might throw up on him and see if he still flirts then." She pauses, then asks, "I think I'm going to go in. Do you mind?"
P'draig laughs a little and drops a kiss onto her forehead. "Sure, go have a rest. I'll talk to you later."