LOG: Obeying Orders
Date: Day 27, Month 3, Turn 24
Location: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: S'ren and Cerveath are grounded, grounded, grounded.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
The snowfall is light and intermittent throughout the day until it tapers off completely into a frigid night. The ground is damp, though very little sticks.
Word in the barracks is that it won't be very long at all before the dragons begin to be able to fly for /real/ - not just the gliding they've been doing in increasing amounts of late. This afternoon, lessons are less about actual gliding, and more about strengthening exercises, which is, for most dragons at least, distinctly less interesting. Meara has only half the group with her on the lake shore; she walks between rows, examining the stretches with a practiced, if not terribly excited, eye.
S'ren and Cerveath are both there, the first watching the latter as he tries to keep Cerveath focused on the exercises and stretches. "No no, not like that, yer supposed to do it more like this." S'ren says for the fifth time, holding his arms out like wings and showing Cerveath. The blue seems to be getting some kind of sick joy out of making Sho continuously mimic a dragon. Sho doesn't seem to realize it, but others nearby find it rather entertaining.
Certainly, some particularly high-pitched giggles from one of the greenriding weyrlings draws Meara's attention. She abandons her more orderly progression to turn back to look at S'ren. In truth, her own lips quirk in amusement, though - but there's sympathy as she says, "Cerveath, why don't you have a look at what Ninath is doing, and follow her, mm? You wouldn't want to stay grounded because your wings weren't strong enough, after all!"
Cerveath turns slow whirling, humored eyes on Meara and offers a slight nod to the weyrlingmaster before looking in the direction of Ninath. Well, he knew what he was doing really, but this way at least he can make it /look/ like he didn't. Ayup. S'ren drops his arms and runs a hand through his hair with a soft sigh, glancing at Meara and smiling at her. "Hello ma'am." He offers in greeting.
Meara is focused on Cerveath, it's true, and with the kind of eyebrow-raised glance that suggests she hasn't entirely fallen for his deceptions. But S'ren's greeting draws her attention towards the teen, and she gives him a nod. "S'ren. How /are/ his wings going? Seems like he's growing a bit, at least."
"Yeah, he's growin'. He'll be big, I'm sure." Well, that's not too likely, but at least he and Sho kind of fit in that way. The weyrling reaches out to rub the dragons eyeridges as he stretches, the dragons head only a little above his own now. "He's been glidin' good though. He's a lot faster'n more agile then the others, at least that's what everyone's sayin'." He looks at Meara then and grins. "He'll be flyin' in no time!" Nothing like a good attitude, right?
"Agile is good," agrees Meara, evenly, though it doesn't - necessarily - provide support to S'ren's assertion about flying. "For actual flying, though, it's more about strength - at least to begin with. Strong wings." She indicates on Cerveath with her hand, without actually touching the blue, pointing out the muscles about his wings, as well as his haunches: all important. "Still, as long as he works hard. As long as they /all/ do." This last is said with a meaningful glance around the group, some of whom have to hurriedly get back to work.
S'ren looks at the muscles she points out, and all in all the blue is in good shape for his size. "He says he's good and ready anytime." Sho says, grinning and he pats Cerveath and removes his hand. "He's pretty eager ta try an' actually fly. He wants ta do it as fast as he can, says it'll make him stronger so he can carry me even if he ain't big." The weyrling seems to agree with this and looks at Meara, almost as if trying to garner her permission.
"Ah, S'ren, I can promise you there's barely been a weyrling in any of my classes who hasn't said the same." But still: Meara seems amused by it. "Regardless, it won't be today. Perhaps next seven. Perhaps. If you all work hard enough, at any rate." Again, /that/ is for the whole group, but no one really seems to need the reminder, this time. "At any rate, I shouldn't think there'll be a problem with him carrying you eventually, though that won't be for a while yet, either."
S'ren seems a bit dissapointed by the denial, but Cerveath...well, he's ready. Without warning, the dragon crouches low and lunges into the air, flapping his wings. Sho realizes it only at the last minute and turns to try and reach a hand out to stop the dragon. He fails miserably however but Cerveath...well he's not to bad off really. He flaps a few times and actually gains some altitude before he glides back down for a landing next to S'ren. The weyrling is shocked...yet quite happy. Until he thinks about what kind of bad things might now happen. Er...he looks over his shoulder at Meara and almost seems to pre-cringe a bit.
Meara's roar of, "NO!" startles a good number of the other weyrlings; her fury is barely constrained. "Is he hurt?" Her tone is clipped to the point of dagger-sharpness as she reaches out to feel the blue, testing muscles, checking for damage. If there's no outright lecture delivered at the weyrling, well, it can surely only be a matter of time: the blue's health clearly matters more.
Cerveath is just fine and seems MORE then proud of himself, extending his wings for Meara to look. Apparently his size gives him at least some advantage. Sho, on the other hand, tries to slowly and 'without trying' put the blue between himself and the weyrling master, mentally chastising his foolish lifemate for getting him in trouble. Again.
"Grounded," Meara gets out, finally, once she seems comfortable that no actual damage has been done. "Grounded-- and I'll have it enforced by the queens. You will be doing /no/ flying until I am satisfied you can obey orders. Both of you. Now: back to the barracks before I add anything to that. If you ever /dare/ to do anything like that... you could have broken something. You could have /lamed/ yourself forever, Cerveath. /Go/."
Sho winces at the way Meara tells them the news and he frowns at Cerveath, thumping him in the side. "Good job you sharding dumb dragon, now we can't even try'n fly anymore. Yer gonna be behind the rest of tha class." He says, glaring at the blue. Cerveath seems to be surprised by the news and rumbles uncertainly, his wings ruffling a bit before he settles them back, staring down at Meara. "No, I'm not gonna tell her anythin'. Ya got us in trouble, it's yer fault. Dun try an' talk yer way outta it."
Meara is perfectly happy, apparently (though 'happy' is perhaps not the quite word: she's obviously fury) to stare down any dragon, especially a small and troublemaking blue. "/Barracks/," she repeats, gaze fastened on Cerveath. "Any protest, and it'll be worse. Get out of my sight." Isath, watching over, is a mental wall, unmoving and unmoved.
Cerveath's eyes turn a shade of orange and begin to whirl faster, Sho grabs the a dragons snout and turns it towards him. "No, let's go. Don't ya even think about it." But apparently the blue doesn't care to much for either of their thoughts, and since a dragon has yet to actually force him down, the blue turns and walks a few steps, then crouches and spreads his wings and takes flight again...towards the barracks. Sho just runs a hand through his hair and looks for a high place to jump off of. Probably be easier then what's going to happen.
As soon as Cerveath tries to take off, there's an intense pressure on him from an external source: not just Isath, but Iovniath, too, pushing him back down, compelling him to the ground. It's not the kind of thing that can be ignored. "If he /ever/ tries anything like that again, S'ren, you can forget graduating before you're twenty-five." Meara is beyond furious, now, perhaps as close to backhanding a weyrling as she's ever been, though that's hard to know from her stance alone. "Forget weyrlinghood. You're in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, until I say otherwise. And Cerveath stays in the barracks unless feeding or being washed. Out of my sight."
Cerveath lands quick and agile, the force within his skull making even his head duck down a bit. S'ren just watches the blue and sighs softly, looking back at Meara for a moment before simply nodding. He has nothing to say. He can't apologize, it really doesn't do much good. He did all he could after all. Cerveath is just...to much like him at times. "Yes ma'am." He says. Cerveath flicks out his wings once before setlling them behind him and stalking towards the barracks. Sho follows after to change for his kitchen duty. Sigh.
Meara's eyes are on the pair all the way to the barracks. The rest of the weyrlings? They're watching on in horror, apparently unable to move. As the blue pair disappear from sight, Isath stretches out a tendril, dark and unhappy: << Never again. You will obey orders, or you will never fly. >> And then she's gone: a brick wall, impossible to reach, impossible to respond to. Apparently this punishment involves isolation, too-- or as much as the senior queen can enforce.
Location: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: S'ren and Cerveath are grounded, grounded, grounded.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
The snowfall is light and intermittent throughout the day until it tapers off completely into a frigid night. The ground is damp, though very little sticks.
Word in the barracks is that it won't be very long at all before the dragons begin to be able to fly for /real/ - not just the gliding they've been doing in increasing amounts of late. This afternoon, lessons are less about actual gliding, and more about strengthening exercises, which is, for most dragons at least, distinctly less interesting. Meara has only half the group with her on the lake shore; she walks between rows, examining the stretches with a practiced, if not terribly excited, eye.
S'ren and Cerveath are both there, the first watching the latter as he tries to keep Cerveath focused on the exercises and stretches. "No no, not like that, yer supposed to do it more like this." S'ren says for the fifth time, holding his arms out like wings and showing Cerveath. The blue seems to be getting some kind of sick joy out of making Sho continuously mimic a dragon. Sho doesn't seem to realize it, but others nearby find it rather entertaining.
Certainly, some particularly high-pitched giggles from one of the greenriding weyrlings draws Meara's attention. She abandons her more orderly progression to turn back to look at S'ren. In truth, her own lips quirk in amusement, though - but there's sympathy as she says, "Cerveath, why don't you have a look at what Ninath is doing, and follow her, mm? You wouldn't want to stay grounded because your wings weren't strong enough, after all!"
Cerveath turns slow whirling, humored eyes on Meara and offers a slight nod to the weyrlingmaster before looking in the direction of Ninath. Well, he knew what he was doing really, but this way at least he can make it /look/ like he didn't. Ayup. S'ren drops his arms and runs a hand through his hair with a soft sigh, glancing at Meara and smiling at her. "Hello ma'am." He offers in greeting.
Meara is focused on Cerveath, it's true, and with the kind of eyebrow-raised glance that suggests she hasn't entirely fallen for his deceptions. But S'ren's greeting draws her attention towards the teen, and she gives him a nod. "S'ren. How /are/ his wings going? Seems like he's growing a bit, at least."
"Yeah, he's growin'. He'll be big, I'm sure." Well, that's not too likely, but at least he and Sho kind of fit in that way. The weyrling reaches out to rub the dragons eyeridges as he stretches, the dragons head only a little above his own now. "He's been glidin' good though. He's a lot faster'n more agile then the others, at least that's what everyone's sayin'." He looks at Meara then and grins. "He'll be flyin' in no time!" Nothing like a good attitude, right?
"Agile is good," agrees Meara, evenly, though it doesn't - necessarily - provide support to S'ren's assertion about flying. "For actual flying, though, it's more about strength - at least to begin with. Strong wings." She indicates on Cerveath with her hand, without actually touching the blue, pointing out the muscles about his wings, as well as his haunches: all important. "Still, as long as he works hard. As long as they /all/ do." This last is said with a meaningful glance around the group, some of whom have to hurriedly get back to work.
S'ren looks at the muscles she points out, and all in all the blue is in good shape for his size. "He says he's good and ready anytime." Sho says, grinning and he pats Cerveath and removes his hand. "He's pretty eager ta try an' actually fly. He wants ta do it as fast as he can, says it'll make him stronger so he can carry me even if he ain't big." The weyrling seems to agree with this and looks at Meara, almost as if trying to garner her permission.
"Ah, S'ren, I can promise you there's barely been a weyrling in any of my classes who hasn't said the same." But still: Meara seems amused by it. "Regardless, it won't be today. Perhaps next seven. Perhaps. If you all work hard enough, at any rate." Again, /that/ is for the whole group, but no one really seems to need the reminder, this time. "At any rate, I shouldn't think there'll be a problem with him carrying you eventually, though that won't be for a while yet, either."
S'ren seems a bit dissapointed by the denial, but Cerveath...well, he's ready. Without warning, the dragon crouches low and lunges into the air, flapping his wings. Sho realizes it only at the last minute and turns to try and reach a hand out to stop the dragon. He fails miserably however but Cerveath...well he's not to bad off really. He flaps a few times and actually gains some altitude before he glides back down for a landing next to S'ren. The weyrling is shocked...yet quite happy. Until he thinks about what kind of bad things might now happen. Er...he looks over his shoulder at Meara and almost seems to pre-cringe a bit.
Meara's roar of, "NO!" startles a good number of the other weyrlings; her fury is barely constrained. "Is he hurt?" Her tone is clipped to the point of dagger-sharpness as she reaches out to feel the blue, testing muscles, checking for damage. If there's no outright lecture delivered at the weyrling, well, it can surely only be a matter of time: the blue's health clearly matters more.
Cerveath is just fine and seems MORE then proud of himself, extending his wings for Meara to look. Apparently his size gives him at least some advantage. Sho, on the other hand, tries to slowly and 'without trying' put the blue between himself and the weyrling master, mentally chastising his foolish lifemate for getting him in trouble. Again.
"Grounded," Meara gets out, finally, once she seems comfortable that no actual damage has been done. "Grounded-- and I'll have it enforced by the queens. You will be doing /no/ flying until I am satisfied you can obey orders. Both of you. Now: back to the barracks before I add anything to that. If you ever /dare/ to do anything like that... you could have broken something. You could have /lamed/ yourself forever, Cerveath. /Go/."
Sho winces at the way Meara tells them the news and he frowns at Cerveath, thumping him in the side. "Good job you sharding dumb dragon, now we can't even try'n fly anymore. Yer gonna be behind the rest of tha class." He says, glaring at the blue. Cerveath seems to be surprised by the news and rumbles uncertainly, his wings ruffling a bit before he settles them back, staring down at Meara. "No, I'm not gonna tell her anythin'. Ya got us in trouble, it's yer fault. Dun try an' talk yer way outta it."
Meara is perfectly happy, apparently (though 'happy' is perhaps not the quite word: she's obviously fury) to stare down any dragon, especially a small and troublemaking blue. "/Barracks/," she repeats, gaze fastened on Cerveath. "Any protest, and it'll be worse. Get out of my sight." Isath, watching over, is a mental wall, unmoving and unmoved.
Cerveath's eyes turn a shade of orange and begin to whirl faster, Sho grabs the a dragons snout and turns it towards him. "No, let's go. Don't ya even think about it." But apparently the blue doesn't care to much for either of their thoughts, and since a dragon has yet to actually force him down, the blue turns and walks a few steps, then crouches and spreads his wings and takes flight again...towards the barracks. Sho just runs a hand through his hair and looks for a high place to jump off of. Probably be easier then what's going to happen.
As soon as Cerveath tries to take off, there's an intense pressure on him from an external source: not just Isath, but Iovniath, too, pushing him back down, compelling him to the ground. It's not the kind of thing that can be ignored. "If he /ever/ tries anything like that again, S'ren, you can forget graduating before you're twenty-five." Meara is beyond furious, now, perhaps as close to backhanding a weyrling as she's ever been, though that's hard to know from her stance alone. "Forget weyrlinghood. You're in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, until I say otherwise. And Cerveath stays in the barracks unless feeding or being washed. Out of my sight."
Cerveath lands quick and agile, the force within his skull making even his head duck down a bit. S'ren just watches the blue and sighs softly, looking back at Meara for a moment before simply nodding. He has nothing to say. He can't apologize, it really doesn't do much good. He did all he could after all. Cerveath is just...to much like him at times. "Yes ma'am." He says. Cerveath flicks out his wings once before setlling them behind him and stalking towards the barracks. Sho follows after to change for his kitchen duty. Sigh.
Meara's eyes are on the pair all the way to the barracks. The rest of the weyrlings? They're watching on in horror, apparently unable to move. As the blue pair disappear from sight, Isath stretches out a tendril, dark and unhappy: << Never again. You will obey orders, or you will never fly. >> And then she's gone: a brick wall, impossible to reach, impossible to respond to. Apparently this punishment involves isolation, too-- or as much as the senior queen can enforce.