LOG: Get The Running Meat
Date: Day 15, Month 5, Turn 22
Location: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Cadejoth's feeding time interrupts hijinks between baby dragons.
Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.
Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.
Szadath stumbles a few times in his headlong pursuit of glory (and dinner!), and is only saved from a nasty nosedive by virtue of the counter-lift provided by those half-unfurled wings. << Get it get it get the running meat! >> His jaws are partially open, and he's practically drooling with eagerness. << Little more-- >> An image is flashed towards Iskiveth: if she aims /this/ way he'll head /that/ way and they can meet in the gooey, meaty center. "Fuck-- fuck! /SZADATH/!" Taikrin doesn't really do this helpless worry thing well, and she's bouncing on her toes as if a hair's breadth away from hopping the fence and chasing after the brown. And as for the herdbeast? It's doing the only sensible thing that a herdbeast /can/ do, which is running the hell away from the two crazy dragons. Except that this ground, it's pretty soggy, and herdbeast aren't known for their graceful movements. Whether or not the weyrling dragons' plan can succeed or not is rendered moot when the beast catches a hoof in a patch of mud and trips. Awkwardly. And soon to be /very/ painfully.
Teris is already standing just on the other side of the fence. Right on the other side of a section with the uppermost railings busted out. Conveniently big enough to have let a young gold through. The blonde is just staring at this point, even her cursing fading off until she gasps and takes a few steps in the direction when the herdbeast trips. Iskiveth screeches an unpleasant battle-cry as she closes the remaining distance and flings herself onto the downed beast with hungry enthusiasm. Her talons make messy work of her path over the poor creature and it's liable to bleed out before she figures out how to actually /kill/ it. It looks so much easier when the big dragons do it!
A low glide brings Cadejoth into the feeding grounds just in time to see the two little dragons bring down their quarry (sort of); it shifts his path slightly, as though in surprise, and he comes down to an awkward landing as a result, craning his neck forward as he settles his wings. << Are you… >> Pause. << /Supposed/ to be killing like that, yet? >> Also: << Kill it quick. Don't let it suffer! They feed us, and we look after them. It's only right. >> K'del's not in sight, not yet, but if the uneasy shifts in Cadejoth's wings and tail are anything to go by, he may not - now - be all that far off.
Szadath roars his triumph as the beast goes down, flailing to a mud-and-dirty flinging stop more or less on top of its hindquarters. It's a good thing for him that the beast is weak enough that the defensive kick it lands on his side hasn't much strength left in it, though it'll undoubtedly leave a bruise. He's all jaws and sharp teeth as he attacks its flank, though he's not exactly getting any mouthfuls, either. And with the way he's gasping for breath? It's not like he could swallow anything even if he did get it off. "Crap." With that eloquent statement, Taikrin shoots another dirty look at Teris then slips through the gap in the fence to run towards the triumphant dragons. "Bloody /shells/ Szadath what're you flaming /thinking/ y'could'a gotten /killed/." Finally, between Cadejoth's arrival and Taikrin's furious ranting, something seems to sink into Szadath's head, and then? Oops. Cue the guilty expression. Still, he can't help but boast, << Look at the running meat we got! >>
A familiar voice startles Iskiveth into distraction and she cranes her head around to look at Cadejoth. Then a moment later has her taking a defensive, albeit gasping for breath, stance over their not-quite-kill. << It's mine! >> she tells him. Though she probably means 'ours' since Szadath is apparently allowed near the groaning beast. Her blazing-eyed attention returns to it and she pounces toward it's head where there's a satisfying crunch of bone before their prey goes still. Teris is still just standing there and watching, looking a little pale and ready to be sick. She probably already would have been if she'd eaten anytime recently.
Time seems to have given Cadejoth the certainty he was admittedly lacking admittedly; << You are not supposed to be killing, yet, >> he chides them both, padding closer with his tail swinging behind him to tower above them rather unfairly. << It wasn't yours to kill. It was /mine/. Because this is /my/ weyr. /Your/ food is available in the weyrling barracks, and until your weyrlingmasters decide otherwise, that is where you should eat. >> Not so much playful Cadejoth today, then. It's a long walk - or even run - from the Weyrleader's complex; there's still no K'del visible on the approach.
Taikrin draws short a good dragonlength away from the scene of the crime, now that Cadejoth has decided to be all aggressive and loom-ey, arms folding across her chest and crinkling that nearly forgotten paper all the more. << But... we got it? All by ourselves? >> Szadath isn't nearly so sure of himself, now, and he drops himself low to the ground, edging around to crouch as near to Iskiveth as he can manage. Blood-spattered head swings over their kill, then cranes /way/ up towards the bronze. << It was awesome? >> A memory is offered, strangely tentative for the brash brown: blood pumping, wind whistling, pure joy of the hunt in pursuit of meat-that-runs.
Iskiveth is, perhaps, somewhat intimidated by the looming bronze but she's trying very hard not to show it. If she weren't so tired, her wings would probably be spread out possessively over the carcass but, as it is, they're drooping along the same area. << But we did! So it should be mine! >> Her tone is less defensive now and a lot more petulant. She still hovers over the herdbeast and slightly in front of her clutch sibling as though protecting them both. Teris finally takes a few more steps forward, looking up at the bronze and then toward Taikrin. Finally she manages to say in a voice that's harsh and cold and angry and afraid all at the same time, "Iskiveth!"
It's not that Cadejoth isn't drawn in by the sensations Szadath shares: indeed, he positively /leans/ in to them, his ichor pumping in recollection and joy. Like father, like son, apparently. But then, with great reluctance, << You still shouldn't. What if you got hurt? >> Teris' word draws him to recoil slightly, turning his gaze on her for just a moment before he slides it back towards Iskiveth. << I'm not going to take it away. But K'del's going to tell the Weyrlingmaster. >> There's a brief pause, the sensation of clanking chain against clanking chain, and then he adds, << You'd better eat it before it goes cold. Under my supervision. Until K'del gets here. >> K'del, the man now visible in the distance, jogging frantically towards the pens.
Despite his continued heavy breathing, Szadath is still worked up enough in the excitement that he doesn't yet conceive of the multitude of aches and pains that he's surely soon to meet. << We didn't get hurt, because we were great. Right, Iskiveth? >> He's content to remain a bit behind his larger sister, though not so much that he doesn't snake his neck out to poke tentatively at the gut of the kill. << We can eat it? Because we got it, right? It's ours fair? >> Taikrin edges slowly closer towards the dragon trio, still unusually quiet, though her expression echoes the anger and fear Teris' call expresses. A glance over her shoulder, then, towards her fellow weyrling, is accompanied by a muttered, "They're gonna kill us."
The pointy gold breaks away her whirling, blazing eyes from Cadejoth to look toward her rider who is doing very well in the whole not shaking with anger or throwing up thing. Since her lifemate has not been killed by a herdbeast, Teris seems to prefer this bit of distance and once Iskiveth turns her head back to the kill, she turns away entirely to go find a not broken section of fence to take hold of and let her legs give out so she can sink to the ground. "Don't be so dramatic," she snaps back without much conviction. Meanwhile the gold takes their sire at his word and dives in greedily to enjoy the spoils of war.
Cadejoth is going nowhere: in fact, he plants himself on the ground, stretched out, to watch the two young dragons warily. Not that this stops his tail from going twitch, twitch, twitch again. /Finally/ K'del makes it up to the fencepost, swinging himself over it before he comes to a panting halt, his eyebrows raised and his attention turned towards the pair of weyrlings. "The /fuck/ do you think you're playing at here, risking their safety like this?" It'd probably come across a lot better if he /weren't/ panting so much between words.
Szadath does apparently take some comfort from this, though he's obviously taking cues from Iskiveth. He flattens himself as low to the ground as a dragonet his size can manage, but tentatively begins to tear into his kill. But Taikrin? She's not about to follow Teris' lead. At K'del approaches, she drifts closer to the fenceline with arms folded tightly across her chest and blank poker-face. "Not like I /let/ 'im, he was just lookin' an' then /she/ got 'im all worked up an' next thing I know they was in there runnin' their fool heads off an' I couldn't stop 'im!" Well, that /was/ a poker-face: by the time she's half way through her breathless explanation, her expression has contorted through fear and guilt and anger and landed, finally, on deep frustration. "S'like he couldn't even hear me!"
<< We were great, >> Iskiveth finally returns to her brother, her mind voice more quiet and calm now that her hunger is being sated so satisfyingly. She doesn't let the arrival of the Weyrleader interrupt her feasting. If anything, it makes her more greedy about it. Cadejoth did say until K'del got here, after all! Teris glances up briefly toward the young man, then glares in Taikrin's direction and finally bites back at K'del, "It's not like we told them to go out there! I wasn't even here." Which may not be her best bet at a defense. Especially considering where she was taking that bath of hers. "When I did get here, she was already out /there/ and--" she sucks in a shaky breath but manages to maintain some semblance of composure despite being on the ground, "and she wouldn't listen."
"You have to /make/ her listen," K'del tells Teris, sounding a little more composed now that he's caught his breath. "You, too, Taikrin. If you can't control them now, they'll get the upper hand on you, and you'll never be able to." He scrubs at his forehead with one hand, shaking his head. "Shouldn't let her wander off without you, either. Not given--" Well. She already has a kind of reputation already, doesn't she? Presumably, that is back at Teris again. "Going to have to tell Meara what happened. Got to find a way to control them, or they /will/ get injured, and we'll end up with lame dragons… and none of you want that, right?" Cadejoth sounds sulky, now, as he adds to the two smaller dragons, << Hurry up! I'm not allowed to go eat until you're done and back in the barracks. I have to /watch/ you. >> And he's /hungry/.
Anxiety is not an emotion Szadath does well, particularly when it's interfering with his enjoyment of this bountiful feast of herdbeast. He can't seem to do more than snatch a mouthful before he's staring guiltily at Taikrin, whirling gaze streaked with white. But Iskiveth's assurance is taken to heart, and he can't help but add, privately, << We're the /best/ meat-killers. >> Glare for glare Taikrin matches Teris, though some of the potency is lost in her obvious worry. "But-- how? Everythin' got so loud an' I don't reckon he could even /hear/ me none." Her dark gaze lowers as shame floods in. "Don't want 'im t'get hurt," she echoes. Perhaps she's not as cowed as her demeanor would suggest, though, because the white-knuckled fist that's clenched around her crumpled paper is squeeing so hard it's shaking.
At least now that Teris is being distracted from her lifemate's overly strong feelings on this whole killing thing she can find the rest of her composure to stand up even if she keeps one hand on the fence. "I /tried/," she returns to K'del, the pitch of her voice raised with some of her lingering anxiety over the whole experience. "She's been good," she protests somewhat. And she has been, more or less. That's all she's going to say for now, though, jaw tensing at the mention of Meara and this time the glare she shoots is sent into the blood-stained gold's direction. Iskiveth has no regrets. Not /yet/ at least. There will probably be some later. << The /best./ >>
"Not saying you didn't," retorts the Weyrleader, gaze sliding from one weyrling to the other, though his action words probably answer Teris. "Try, I mean. Just shows you don't have enough control over them yet… /that/ shouldn't happen, not until flights, maybe." He sinks both hands into pockets, which makes him look rather more casual again, though his words remain serious. "/I/ can't tell you how to control your own lifemate, Taikrin. Teris. Meara, Aleis, the others? They'll know better. And that's why I'm going to tell them." Mostly. probably. Cadejoth yawns, casting a glance behind him at the cowering herds, then back at the little dragons, moodily.
Taikrin's gaze remains stubbornly lowered, her expression flat once more though her breath is coming suspiciously fast. "We'll do better. Sir." She moves towards the gap in the fence with a posture that's stiff as a board, though she doesn't launch herself over just yet. "Can I take 'im back to th'barracks, now? Want t'make sure he ain't hurt 'imself none." Szadath was just starting to enjoy this whole eating business when his head jerks up abruptly as if he'd been slapped. He's still got a mouthful of gory redness when he rises and trots quite stiffly himself back towards Taikrin, radiating a silent combination of confusion and guilt.
The vigor with which Iskiveth eats slows until there are at some points several long moments between swallowing and her next bite. But she's really probably not drawing anything out just to keep Cadejoth waiting. Surely not! That would require forethought, something that she's lacking in most everything else that she does. She lingers even after Szadath starts moving away but not for very long after her head snaps around to look at Teris. There are thoughts there that Iskiveth has to sort through before she finally turns to start following and moving toward Teris. "I can control her," says the blonde once her lifemate is close enough to nudge against the woman's hip with her blood-covered muzzle. Teris keeps her gaze lifted, almost challengingly now, to look at the Weyrleader for a handful of moments, then she's moving down along the fenceline toward the nearest gate as though they've been dismissed.
K'del waves a hand, dismissing the group, though his eyes keep careful measure on them. "Prove it," he tells Teris. Although: "Both of you. But I'm /still/ going to tell Meara." With his charges /finally/ finished, Cadejoth, shoves off the ground with a mighty push, and darts back into the herds to take down his own meal. "Keep 'em away from here in future. Avoid temptation. And /watch/ them." But they're dismissed.
Taikrin nods, curtly, in response to K'del's admonishment, though she remains determinedly silent otherwise. A gesture is made towards the fence, and then she's clambering over it with Szadath hot on her trail. It's not apparently as easy for him to get his mass up and over now as it was when he had excitement running through his veins, though he manages it with a minimum of grunting and flailing. Once they're on the other side, Taikrin looks up briefly, but only long enough to spot Teris and direct a look of jaw-clenched anger at the gold weyrling. "Keep 'em away. Yessir," Taikrin echoes, voice rough, before she's ducking her head again and trotting back towards the barracks, Szadath lumbering anxiously at her side. But ever so quietly he directs towards Iskiveth, << ... bet I would've caught him first. >>
"I will," Teris bites back, letting Iskiveth and herself through the gate before she closes it again and the pair are heading toward the barracks. Teris is doing her best not to look toward Taikrin or her brown at the moment, or she's just lost in conversation with her own lifemate. If that's the case, she probably doesn't appreciate the little time out Ikiveth takes to flicker back, << Next time, we'll see. >>
It's probably a good thing Cadejoth isn't privy to those final draconic comments - though perhaps, now that he has dinner of his own, he might not care too much. K'del, though, he stands where he is, watching after the weyrlings until they're well out of sight. He /scowls/. Life's tough.
Location: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Cadejoth's feeding time interrupts hijinks between baby dragons.
Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.
Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.
Szadath stumbles a few times in his headlong pursuit of glory (and dinner!), and is only saved from a nasty nosedive by virtue of the counter-lift provided by those half-unfurled wings. << Get it get it get the running meat! >> His jaws are partially open, and he's practically drooling with eagerness. << Little more-- >> An image is flashed towards Iskiveth: if she aims /this/ way he'll head /that/ way and they can meet in the gooey, meaty center. "Fuck-- fuck! /SZADATH/!" Taikrin doesn't really do this helpless worry thing well, and she's bouncing on her toes as if a hair's breadth away from hopping the fence and chasing after the brown. And as for the herdbeast? It's doing the only sensible thing that a herdbeast /can/ do, which is running the hell away from the two crazy dragons. Except that this ground, it's pretty soggy, and herdbeast aren't known for their graceful movements. Whether or not the weyrling dragons' plan can succeed or not is rendered moot when the beast catches a hoof in a patch of mud and trips. Awkwardly. And soon to be /very/ painfully.
Teris is already standing just on the other side of the fence. Right on the other side of a section with the uppermost railings busted out. Conveniently big enough to have let a young gold through. The blonde is just staring at this point, even her cursing fading off until she gasps and takes a few steps in the direction when the herdbeast trips. Iskiveth screeches an unpleasant battle-cry as she closes the remaining distance and flings herself onto the downed beast with hungry enthusiasm. Her talons make messy work of her path over the poor creature and it's liable to bleed out before she figures out how to actually /kill/ it. It looks so much easier when the big dragons do it!
A low glide brings Cadejoth into the feeding grounds just in time to see the two little dragons bring down their quarry (sort of); it shifts his path slightly, as though in surprise, and he comes down to an awkward landing as a result, craning his neck forward as he settles his wings. << Are you… >> Pause. << /Supposed/ to be killing like that, yet? >> Also: << Kill it quick. Don't let it suffer! They feed us, and we look after them. It's only right. >> K'del's not in sight, not yet, but if the uneasy shifts in Cadejoth's wings and tail are anything to go by, he may not - now - be all that far off.
Szadath roars his triumph as the beast goes down, flailing to a mud-and-dirty flinging stop more or less on top of its hindquarters. It's a good thing for him that the beast is weak enough that the defensive kick it lands on his side hasn't much strength left in it, though it'll undoubtedly leave a bruise. He's all jaws and sharp teeth as he attacks its flank, though he's not exactly getting any mouthfuls, either. And with the way he's gasping for breath? It's not like he could swallow anything even if he did get it off. "Crap." With that eloquent statement, Taikrin shoots another dirty look at Teris then slips through the gap in the fence to run towards the triumphant dragons. "Bloody /shells/ Szadath what're you flaming /thinking/ y'could'a gotten /killed/." Finally, between Cadejoth's arrival and Taikrin's furious ranting, something seems to sink into Szadath's head, and then? Oops. Cue the guilty expression. Still, he can't help but boast, << Look at the running meat we got! >>
A familiar voice startles Iskiveth into distraction and she cranes her head around to look at Cadejoth. Then a moment later has her taking a defensive, albeit gasping for breath, stance over their not-quite-kill. << It's mine! >> she tells him. Though she probably means 'ours' since Szadath is apparently allowed near the groaning beast. Her blazing-eyed attention returns to it and she pounces toward it's head where there's a satisfying crunch of bone before their prey goes still. Teris is still just standing there and watching, looking a little pale and ready to be sick. She probably already would have been if she'd eaten anytime recently.
Time seems to have given Cadejoth the certainty he was admittedly lacking admittedly; << You are not supposed to be killing, yet, >> he chides them both, padding closer with his tail swinging behind him to tower above them rather unfairly. << It wasn't yours to kill. It was /mine/. Because this is /my/ weyr. /Your/ food is available in the weyrling barracks, and until your weyrlingmasters decide otherwise, that is where you should eat. >> Not so much playful Cadejoth today, then. It's a long walk - or even run - from the Weyrleader's complex; there's still no K'del visible on the approach.
Taikrin draws short a good dragonlength away from the scene of the crime, now that Cadejoth has decided to be all aggressive and loom-ey, arms folding across her chest and crinkling that nearly forgotten paper all the more. << But... we got it? All by ourselves? >> Szadath isn't nearly so sure of himself, now, and he drops himself low to the ground, edging around to crouch as near to Iskiveth as he can manage. Blood-spattered head swings over their kill, then cranes /way/ up towards the bronze. << It was awesome? >> A memory is offered, strangely tentative for the brash brown: blood pumping, wind whistling, pure joy of the hunt in pursuit of meat-that-runs.
Iskiveth is, perhaps, somewhat intimidated by the looming bronze but she's trying very hard not to show it. If she weren't so tired, her wings would probably be spread out possessively over the carcass but, as it is, they're drooping along the same area. << But we did! So it should be mine! >> Her tone is less defensive now and a lot more petulant. She still hovers over the herdbeast and slightly in front of her clutch sibling as though protecting them both. Teris finally takes a few more steps forward, looking up at the bronze and then toward Taikrin. Finally she manages to say in a voice that's harsh and cold and angry and afraid all at the same time, "Iskiveth!"
It's not that Cadejoth isn't drawn in by the sensations Szadath shares: indeed, he positively /leans/ in to them, his ichor pumping in recollection and joy. Like father, like son, apparently. But then, with great reluctance, << You still shouldn't. What if you got hurt? >> Teris' word draws him to recoil slightly, turning his gaze on her for just a moment before he slides it back towards Iskiveth. << I'm not going to take it away. But K'del's going to tell the Weyrlingmaster. >> There's a brief pause, the sensation of clanking chain against clanking chain, and then he adds, << You'd better eat it before it goes cold. Under my supervision. Until K'del gets here. >> K'del, the man now visible in the distance, jogging frantically towards the pens.
Despite his continued heavy breathing, Szadath is still worked up enough in the excitement that he doesn't yet conceive of the multitude of aches and pains that he's surely soon to meet. << We didn't get hurt, because we were great. Right, Iskiveth? >> He's content to remain a bit behind his larger sister, though not so much that he doesn't snake his neck out to poke tentatively at the gut of the kill. << We can eat it? Because we got it, right? It's ours fair? >> Taikrin edges slowly closer towards the dragon trio, still unusually quiet, though her expression echoes the anger and fear Teris' call expresses. A glance over her shoulder, then, towards her fellow weyrling, is accompanied by a muttered, "They're gonna kill us."
The pointy gold breaks away her whirling, blazing eyes from Cadejoth to look toward her rider who is doing very well in the whole not shaking with anger or throwing up thing. Since her lifemate has not been killed by a herdbeast, Teris seems to prefer this bit of distance and once Iskiveth turns her head back to the kill, she turns away entirely to go find a not broken section of fence to take hold of and let her legs give out so she can sink to the ground. "Don't be so dramatic," she snaps back without much conviction. Meanwhile the gold takes their sire at his word and dives in greedily to enjoy the spoils of war.
Cadejoth is going nowhere: in fact, he plants himself on the ground, stretched out, to watch the two young dragons warily. Not that this stops his tail from going twitch, twitch, twitch again. /Finally/ K'del makes it up to the fencepost, swinging himself over it before he comes to a panting halt, his eyebrows raised and his attention turned towards the pair of weyrlings. "The /fuck/ do you think you're playing at here, risking their safety like this?" It'd probably come across a lot better if he /weren't/ panting so much between words.
Szadath does apparently take some comfort from this, though he's obviously taking cues from Iskiveth. He flattens himself as low to the ground as a dragonet his size can manage, but tentatively begins to tear into his kill. But Taikrin? She's not about to follow Teris' lead. At K'del approaches, she drifts closer to the fenceline with arms folded tightly across her chest and blank poker-face. "Not like I /let/ 'im, he was just lookin' an' then /she/ got 'im all worked up an' next thing I know they was in there runnin' their fool heads off an' I couldn't stop 'im!" Well, that /was/ a poker-face: by the time she's half way through her breathless explanation, her expression has contorted through fear and guilt and anger and landed, finally, on deep frustration. "S'like he couldn't even hear me!"
<< We were great, >> Iskiveth finally returns to her brother, her mind voice more quiet and calm now that her hunger is being sated so satisfyingly. She doesn't let the arrival of the Weyrleader interrupt her feasting. If anything, it makes her more greedy about it. Cadejoth did say until K'del got here, after all! Teris glances up briefly toward the young man, then glares in Taikrin's direction and finally bites back at K'del, "It's not like we told them to go out there! I wasn't even here." Which may not be her best bet at a defense. Especially considering where she was taking that bath of hers. "When I did get here, she was already out /there/ and--" she sucks in a shaky breath but manages to maintain some semblance of composure despite being on the ground, "and she wouldn't listen."
"You have to /make/ her listen," K'del tells Teris, sounding a little more composed now that he's caught his breath. "You, too, Taikrin. If you can't control them now, they'll get the upper hand on you, and you'll never be able to." He scrubs at his forehead with one hand, shaking his head. "Shouldn't let her wander off without you, either. Not given--" Well. She already has a kind of reputation already, doesn't she? Presumably, that is back at Teris again. "Going to have to tell Meara what happened. Got to find a way to control them, or they /will/ get injured, and we'll end up with lame dragons… and none of you want that, right?" Cadejoth sounds sulky, now, as he adds to the two smaller dragons, << Hurry up! I'm not allowed to go eat until you're done and back in the barracks. I have to /watch/ you. >> And he's /hungry/.
Anxiety is not an emotion Szadath does well, particularly when it's interfering with his enjoyment of this bountiful feast of herdbeast. He can't seem to do more than snatch a mouthful before he's staring guiltily at Taikrin, whirling gaze streaked with white. But Iskiveth's assurance is taken to heart, and he can't help but add, privately, << We're the /best/ meat-killers. >> Glare for glare Taikrin matches Teris, though some of the potency is lost in her obvious worry. "But-- how? Everythin' got so loud an' I don't reckon he could even /hear/ me none." Her dark gaze lowers as shame floods in. "Don't want 'im t'get hurt," she echoes. Perhaps she's not as cowed as her demeanor would suggest, though, because the white-knuckled fist that's clenched around her crumpled paper is squeeing so hard it's shaking.
At least now that Teris is being distracted from her lifemate's overly strong feelings on this whole killing thing she can find the rest of her composure to stand up even if she keeps one hand on the fence. "I /tried/," she returns to K'del, the pitch of her voice raised with some of her lingering anxiety over the whole experience. "She's been good," she protests somewhat. And she has been, more or less. That's all she's going to say for now, though, jaw tensing at the mention of Meara and this time the glare she shoots is sent into the blood-stained gold's direction. Iskiveth has no regrets. Not /yet/ at least. There will probably be some later. << The /best./ >>
"Not saying you didn't," retorts the Weyrleader, gaze sliding from one weyrling to the other, though his action words probably answer Teris. "Try, I mean. Just shows you don't have enough control over them yet… /that/ shouldn't happen, not until flights, maybe." He sinks both hands into pockets, which makes him look rather more casual again, though his words remain serious. "/I/ can't tell you how to control your own lifemate, Taikrin. Teris. Meara, Aleis, the others? They'll know better. And that's why I'm going to tell them." Mostly. probably. Cadejoth yawns, casting a glance behind him at the cowering herds, then back at the little dragons, moodily.
Taikrin's gaze remains stubbornly lowered, her expression flat once more though her breath is coming suspiciously fast. "We'll do better. Sir." She moves towards the gap in the fence with a posture that's stiff as a board, though she doesn't launch herself over just yet. "Can I take 'im back to th'barracks, now? Want t'make sure he ain't hurt 'imself none." Szadath was just starting to enjoy this whole eating business when his head jerks up abruptly as if he'd been slapped. He's still got a mouthful of gory redness when he rises and trots quite stiffly himself back towards Taikrin, radiating a silent combination of confusion and guilt.
The vigor with which Iskiveth eats slows until there are at some points several long moments between swallowing and her next bite. But she's really probably not drawing anything out just to keep Cadejoth waiting. Surely not! That would require forethought, something that she's lacking in most everything else that she does. She lingers even after Szadath starts moving away but not for very long after her head snaps around to look at Teris. There are thoughts there that Iskiveth has to sort through before she finally turns to start following and moving toward Teris. "I can control her," says the blonde once her lifemate is close enough to nudge against the woman's hip with her blood-covered muzzle. Teris keeps her gaze lifted, almost challengingly now, to look at the Weyrleader for a handful of moments, then she's moving down along the fenceline toward the nearest gate as though they've been dismissed.
K'del waves a hand, dismissing the group, though his eyes keep careful measure on them. "Prove it," he tells Teris. Although: "Both of you. But I'm /still/ going to tell Meara." With his charges /finally/ finished, Cadejoth, shoves off the ground with a mighty push, and darts back into the herds to take down his own meal. "Keep 'em away from here in future. Avoid temptation. And /watch/ them." But they're dismissed.
Taikrin nods, curtly, in response to K'del's admonishment, though she remains determinedly silent otherwise. A gesture is made towards the fence, and then she's clambering over it with Szadath hot on her trail. It's not apparently as easy for him to get his mass up and over now as it was when he had excitement running through his veins, though he manages it with a minimum of grunting and flailing. Once they're on the other side, Taikrin looks up briefly, but only long enough to spot Teris and direct a look of jaw-clenched anger at the gold weyrling. "Keep 'em away. Yessir," Taikrin echoes, voice rough, before she's ducking her head again and trotting back towards the barracks, Szadath lumbering anxiously at her side. But ever so quietly he directs towards Iskiveth, << ... bet I would've caught him first. >>
"I will," Teris bites back, letting Iskiveth and herself through the gate before she closes it again and the pair are heading toward the barracks. Teris is doing her best not to look toward Taikrin or her brown at the moment, or she's just lost in conversation with her own lifemate. If that's the case, she probably doesn't appreciate the little time out Ikiveth takes to flicker back, << Next time, we'll see. >>
It's probably a good thing Cadejoth isn't privy to those final draconic comments - though perhaps, now that he has dinner of his own, he might not care too much. K'del, though, he stands where he is, watching after the weyrlings until they're well out of sight. He /scowls/. Life's tough.