[Edela] Impatient
Zraith jumps the gun on his hunt for the day; Edela learns a fun new exercise with G'dri, and then B'kaiv shows up!
It is a summer morning, 9:19 of day 19, month 6, turn 23 of Interval 10.
It's early enough in the morning that the impending storm hasn't yet hit; the day is dark nonetheless under thick, overcast clouds, but hungry dragons aren't to be deterred! It's here that Edela might be found lingering too-casual-like against the wooden fenceposts of the feeding pen while Zraith paces eagerly just beyond the corral. Every so often he casts her a sidelong look, some communication passing between them, but each time, Ed turns just slightly green and shakes her head. "Not yet. Just wait -- wait a bit longer, Zraith." A hard swallow, an uneasy truce won between them, and then the brown chuffs and resumes his patrol, peeking through the slats at the wandering herdbeasts.
Excursions to the feeding pens with actual feeding in mind, are as yet supervised ones, watchful eyes being kept on both draconic and human weyrlings. So it is that G'dri walks along the fence, his own lifemate not immediately in evidence though presumably lurking nearby ready to play his own part in this grisly business called 'teaching the babies to hunt.' "Edela," the Weyrlingmaster hails as he comes within range, his gaze shifting between her and Zraith and back again. "You doing okay there?"
Her twitch of a response isn't Edela startling, not quite: she bounces her head to one side, diffident. "Uh," a chin jerk out over the pens, "Yeah. Sure. Mean, it's just, he ain't -- just there's... Yeah." She musters a smile for the Weyrlingmaster, scrubs a hand through her hair while Zraith pushes himself to his haunches, crouches at the fence's edge and takes a deep sniff of a passing cow. "'s makin' me lose my appetite, listenin' t' him eat. That's all." Then, air quotes, and she modifies slightly: "I mean, "listenin'". If y' know what I mean."
Dragon> Diesel fumes swirl toward Khameth's mind, seeking; idling engines grumble plaintively. << She doesn't want me to hunt, >> the brown grouses. << But man, I'm /hungry/. >> With it: meat! hunt! slice! eat! blood! All in a rush, a wail of electric guitar string struck hard. (Zraith to Khameth)
Given the location and situation, G'dri seems inclined to give her a pass on the failure to salute, a sympathetic grimace passing across his features. "So he's still sharing?" Or, oversharing. He casts the young brown another considering look, before turning his attention back to Edela. "Do the mental separation exercises not help at all? Or is he pushing through them?"
Dragon> A coil of mist clusters beneath tall jungle fronds and coils around massive tree trunks, Khameth's mind calm and serene with hints of strange birdsong rolling around his mellow chuckle. << Why does she not wish you to hunt? >> he queries in his turn, a curious rustle of leaves. >> (Khameth to Zraith)
Sneaking a look over at Zraith, Edela's mouth presses tighter; not quite a frown, dutiful consideration for G'dri's question. "Ain't pushin' through-like. He's just /there/. 's in his voice," again a hesitating beat, and fingers curled again in air quotations as if it needed clarification, "An' even just touchin' base with him it's -- /there/." For the lack of a better description. She waves vaguely, with a rueful sort of smile over at the Weyrlingmaster. "Short of cuttin' him out altogether, don't know how better t' deal with it. 'Cept work on my stomach o' steel."
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith mumbles, << Says she's not ready yet. /I'm/ ready. /I'm/ the hungry one. >> Stubborn in his conviction, the young brown's voice is raspy, darkened, a cheap whiskey shot taken too fast and searing down the throat. << Make him make her let me go, man, c'mon, I'm hungry. >>
G'dri nods, scratching thoughtfully beneath his chin. "Eventually you may become used to it, though some dragons do enjoy it rather more than others and I understand their pleasure can be... unsettling." So apparently he gets it, air quotes or not. "There are certain techniques, visualizations that can aid in... hmm. Dampening him, without closing him out. It will take practice to perfect, but shall we try one now? The longer he must wait, the worse the final sensations may be." He's such a cheery fellow.
Dragon> To Zraith, Khameth doesn't really chide, but a small puff of 'wind' rustles those fronds further. << Humans tend to be more sensitive; very few of them actually hunt, >> he offers wisely. << She will get used to it, in time. They all do. >> Or at least, according to /him/ they do. << You must also learn to control your hunger, young one. We can not always eat when we desire to. However-- >> The mist thickens, rising higher into a wall as he shields communication with another without dropping contact. << Just have a little more patience. He is attemtping to assist her in becoming ready, so that you may eat. Soon. >>
"Yeah, yeah," stiff nods punctuate Edela's agreement, a lifted-brow glance snuck once more at Zraith. Accompanied as it is by a certain distance to her gaze, her irritable, "cut me some slack," is likely directed at her lifemate and not G'dri; either way, once her attention's back on the Weyrlingmaster, it's with narrow-eyed intent and one more sharp nod. "Yeah. Okay. He and me get much more annoyed with each other an' he'll go either way, so let's do this."
Dragon> That wind disturbs slick, glistening puddles of oil, and the brown whines with the offkey dissonance of guitars, << Time, time. Always gotta /wait/ some something, me. >> But the blue's words seem enough, for now, and his engines grumble quieter to idle in the distance. He'll be patient, but somewhere further those guitars are tuning up, buzzing as they plug into amps, and the implication in it is an unspoken /for now/. (Zraith to Khameth)
G'dri ducks his head a little, his lips twitching as he bites back a smile, patiently waiting for the communication between the pair to end. "We can't have that," he remarks a bit too dryly. "If he gets too overeager, advise him that he'll be on half-carcasses from the butcher until such time as he can learn restraint." Cooling blood and no wriggling -- what a let down. Stepping to the fence and turning to lean a shoulder against it, the Weyrlingmaster finds a position that allows him to focus mostly on Edela, while still keeping Zraith in his line-of-sight. "This will be similar to the shielding exercises, but instead of visualizing a solid barrier between you, I want you to imagine something soft, flexible. A dense fog, or a thick blanket surrounding you, perhaps. Focus on the sounds around you, allow them to pass through that barrier but leave everything else outside it. Remove from your awareness the smell of the air, the pens; the feel of the ground beneath your feet and your clothing against your skin; even internal feeling. There are no emotions, no upset stomach. Just sound."
Dragon> Approval is a flash of dappled sunlight against vegetation, that low chuckle wound 'round with avian calls sounding once more. << As do we all, Zraith. There will always be something to wait for. There always is. >> So practicle. But while he's waiting, perhaps he'd like to let Khameth know: << Which one has caught your eye? Any? >> Oooh. He gets to pick out his meal instead of just take whatever's wounded, then. (Khameth to Zraith)
Edela says, "/Carcasses/, Zraith, d' you hear that?" G'dri's threat has Zraith's full attention even without Edela's reiteration, red-tinted facets reflecting his impatience but so put upon, the brown heaves a sigh and lowers his chin to the fencepost to contemplate his prey in (relative) silence. Edela quirks her mouth around her index finger while G'dri speaks, tugging at one fingernail with nibbling teeth, bobs her head to indicate some sort of understanding. The weyrling and weyrlingmaster are leaning against the fence, speaking quietly, while Khameth is yet some distance away; the young woman takes a visibly deep breath, half closing her eyes, and finally expels it at once: "Yeah. Okay." When a herdbeast lows nearby, she jumps slightly, and chuckles uncertainly with a quick look stolen toward G'dri. "Can I tell 'im t' go, yet?"
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith dismisses such wisdom with a smokey swirl of exhaust, youth's arrogance in his smug, << I'm never gonna wait, not when I'm big. >> Ignored is the thought that that, too, is something he must have patience for: instead, he fixes on Khameth's question with keen intent, dull hum of engines revving to a roar. << That one! -- no, that one. /That/ one. >> The last, a single cow milling outside of the herd on a patch of long grass. << Yeah. That one. Gonna eat it up. >> Om nom nom.
That big ol' sigh from Zraith has G'dri rubbing his hand across his mouth, eyes crinkling up at the corners to betray his smile. He remains silent, so as not to disrupt her concentration, turning his head to look out across the pen. When his gaze returns to the weyrling at her words, this time his smile is allowed to be seen, encouraging as he nods his head. "So long as you feel you are ready. I will tell you when Khameth is clear." His eyes lift again, to where a pair of deep blue wings unfurl as the elder dragon launches himself suddenly into the air. Wings beat to gain him some height and then he turns, swooping in a half-circle over the pens to get into position. his dive is sudden, picking out a single small cow who's gotten herself separated from her herd. When he comes down he lands /beside/ her, and his lightning-quick strike is not for her neck, but her leg, a single hard chomp breaking it. As she squalls in pain, he launches away again, the attack over as abruptly as it began. "/Now/ he may go," the Weyrlingmaster prompts -- even if, perhaps, his words come too late.
Dragon> << Then that one you shall have, >> Khameth promises right before he launches himself into the air, the jungle suddenly coming alive with calls and cries, the strange sounds of creatures unseen above and below. And then, before his attack, silence. The contact broken. (Khameth to Zraith)
With the weather threatening Obsidian drilled early--no point in delaying the day's work simply because of heavy rain!--which is likely why Chielyth circles the pens now, when she'd rather be sleeping. Rather than interrupt the lesson she settles on the far side of the fence, leaving Kai a longish walk to get to Weyrlingmaster and weyrling. "Hey," he offers, slowing, and squints at the trio before leaning his arms on the fence. "He's hunting, huh."
Edela's, "Wait--!!" comes a breath too late; Zraith surges over the fence with a lunge when Khameth's half-circle turns overhead, boldness making up for speed and grace in his approach. It's a crude kill, the brown bolting past the Weyrlingmaster's dragon just as Khameth snaps the leg, striking with a clumsy leap to her neck; he's a tangle of wings and legs as he brings down the cow with a trumpet. Ed cringes, burying her head in her hands, muttering something incomprehensible but sharp, and peeks up through her fingers at G'dri: B'kaiv, too, behind him, and Ed puffs out her cheeks. "Yep," she manages to croak, to her credit, too busy with her hands to her mouth to snap off a salute.
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith's pleasure is the rising howl of guitars through crackling amps to meet the calls of Khameth's jungle. When the blue retreats from his mind, Zraith stumbles briefly against the absense, glistening oil leaking into the darkness, but forgotten soon enough -- impatience overwhelming, turbines and pistons blasting alive with a roar, the weyrling brown takes off after his kill. Then: triumph! Did Khameth see that?!
Very much too late was that prompt, and G'dri's facepalm does little to hide the thundercloud that decides his brow is a much more fun place to rest than up in the sky where it belong. He may be slowing down a bit, but Khameth's leap still gets him clear in time -- he's not /that/ old or infirm, even with the impending storm undoubtedly making his shoulder ache. At least the thundercloud look is being directed at the young brown, and not his weyrling? "Perhaps, Edela," he begins in very, very careful tone, "we will start you a bit early on lessons in... containment." Corners of his mouth pulling down, he turns his blue eyes on her rather than watch the ah, youthful exuberance. It takes a couple moments for him to acknowledge, "Kai. No drills this morning?" Since he really isn't paying much attention to wings outside Quartz, unless he's roping them into a display to help his charges with their formations memorizing.
Dragon> While he had cut off that contact to spare the young one from his own spike of bloodlust engendered by the attack, Khameth does re-open that link once the kill has been made. With a swirl of heavy fog as he continues to circle overhead, trying to dampen the effects on his mind from the dull throb in his shoulder. << Sloppy, young one. Very sloppy. You have no patience and had I not been holding her attention-- >> is that what he calls it? << --she likely would have planted both hind hooves in your ribs. >> Oh yes he saw. He's just not impressed. (Khameth to Zraith)
The greenrider winces--at what, besides 'something in the pen' isn't clear-- and turns from Khameth and Zraith to face their riders. He's got an absent-minded salute for Edela, more to get it over with than anything, and a rueful headshake for G'dri. "Shells, should be so lucky. Nah, he moved 'em up. Woke Chielyth up. Woke th' whole sharding wing up. Figured as she should eat something before she gets a nap." Now he checks back to see how the baby's doing, but only peripherally. "She's already tired. Ain't like she needs this before she gets proddy."
Zraith appears for all the world blissfully ignorant of G'dri's thunderstorm vexation, neck deep as he is in his kill. It's his lifemate who shrinks back into her cupped hands, stoic and notably Not Looking at the young brown but instead fixing brown eyes on the Weyrlingmaster overtop of her fingertips as her eyebrows knit. "Think we'd both 'preciate that, sir," she mumbles, flicking a look at Zraith and regretting it immediately from the paling of her typically dark-skinned complexion. She clues in just after Kai's salute, and, better late than never, clips off two short salutes to both riders. "... proddy," she repeats softly after Kai, staring at the man as if this were something she would never have thought of on her own.
Dragon> Blood splatters into oil, and Zraith's unmitigated satisfaction cannot be dampened by Khameth's words. Except -- there's a moment of wavering uncertainty, tuneless modulation, and the young brown lingers over, << -- my ribs. I need those. >> He shakes it off, amps cranking with a nevermind-that dismissal. << Killed her, didn't I? >> So there. And he eats, sparing Khameth, at least, from the brunt of his 'sharing'. (Zraith to Khameth)
"It will not be particularly pleasant," G'dri warns, still stern though it is clear by the way he's controlling his voice and at least /trying/ to smooth out his scowl as he looks at the young woman, that he's saving his anger solely for the draconic half of the pair. "Especially if he's inclined to fight you on it. But perhaps, given his wilfullness, the extra time to work on the techniques will serve you well as he matures." With an odd look for /Kai/ after that last bit, his brows twitching faintly. "He will be restricted from further hunts for the next two sevendays, at least. Any longer and the lesson may well be lost on him entirely," he mutters, shaking his head. Next words as well directed at the greenrider, "You have informed him, I trust?"
Dragon> Mental winds shake curving fronds and large things slither beneath them in the shadows, Khameth's disappointment in the young brown still heavy. << Yes, you did. And what would have happened to *her*-- >> the image of Edela so sharp and clearly defined it's as if the old blue has studied every aspect of her -- which he probably has << --had you been hurt? Think on /that/, young one. >> A calculated pause, before a quieter, << Do enjoy your meal. >> (Khameth to Zraith)
Chielyth continues to crouch at the edge of the pens, alternately yawning and narrowing her eyes at the herdbeasts, but she makes no move to enter. Her rider shoots her looks now and again, but he doesn't try and send her into the air either, but continues the conversation with the others. "Shells, can't you control him yet?" is for Edela, complete with a what-is-this-world-coming-to shake of his head. The, "Huh, what?" is for G'dri, and Kai shakes his head again, scowling. "Yeah. He says as long as I don't let her do nothing 'inappropriate', he don't see no reason we can't drill until day before she's supposed t' go up." There's another thunderstorm gathering, this time on the greenrider's face.
Ed takes one great big deep breath, dropping her hands to grip the fence; the motion tightens to her shoulders for Kai's comment and she allows herself only one dark glance his way, teeth firmly setting into her lower lip to bite back her reply. "Nope," she says instead, tightly, and refocuses on G'dri with one shoulder lifting and falling. "'s okay. I'm all right with that. He won't be," with a jerk of her chin and another pointed not-looking-at-Zraith shift of brown eyes, "But. Yeah. Two sevens, got it. Uh. Might need some backup, though, if it comes t' that." With the slightest of nods toward Khameth.
Dragon> Slow at first to respond to that image of His Girl, there's a building tension, a tightness between strings whining out of tune, diesel tang harsh in the rising smoke before Zraith snaps in a discord bellow, << NO! >> The brown grasps for the image, mineminemine!, won'twon'twon't!, before retreating entirely, guitar strings snapping into darkness. (Zraith to Khameth)
"/B'kaiv/," G'dri says rather sharply, for that thoughtless comment, his head being shaken warningly. The 'control /yourself/' remains silent, contained in the set of his mouth and the slight tension deepening the lines at the corners of his eyes. Just a titch protective of his weyrlings, is the bluerider. Letting out a careful breath, he straightens away from the fence, and aims a pat of his hand at one of Edela's tight shoulders. "Of course, Edela. You have our support, always," he assures, his own glance flickering to take in Zraith and then lifting further to find Khameth, searching until he finds the old blue ambling over to pay his respects to Chielyth. As he looks back towards Kai, he nods shortly. "A very typical practice during a Pass. The attitudes of wingleaders have become much more lenient, even with... the reminder we received. Such a decision on his part doesn't surprise me."
B'kaiv shoots a glance G'dri's way, but the Weyrlingmaster's knot must be good for intimidating more than just weyrlings, for he pushes off the fence to face Edela square on before muttering, "Sorry. That's one thing me and her didn't have much problem with." He blows out a breath and turns to face the pens, continues on to include Khameth and Chielyth in the circuit. "She's in a real bad mood," he warns over his shoulder, adds another headshake and amends, "So'm I. Shells. Gonna go see if she can get that nap first, maybe. She don't hardly know what time it is no more."
Edela leans her shoulder into that pat for an instant and shifts weight onto one hip pressed against the fence. A tightening of her mouth, the faintest frown while she seeks out Zraith for her first lingering look at the brown, ends in a quick shake of her head and and a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes at B'kaiv. "'s okay. Feel better," is offered awkwardly for the phrasing of it, and there's a small wriggling of fingers across the pens to Chielyth despite the greenrider's warning. Settling deeper into her lean, Edela watches Zraith quietly; no indication she'll be leaving, not until he's done eating, at least.
A twitch of one corner of his mouth isn't even close to a smile, but the look in G'dri's eyes warms considerably for the apology when it's offered. "Noted," he says quietly, but doesn't give any outward indication of a mental warning to his blue. "Indeed," he continues, an echo of Edela's awkward sentiment. "It's off schedule, but perhaps if this storm opens up, she can catch up on some sleep during." He too doesn't look like he'll be leaving the pens any time soon, though he will give Edela some space, before time comes to escort her and Zraith back to the barracks. Just to make sure the brown actually /gets/ there.
It is a summer morning, 9:19 of day 19, month 6, turn 23 of Interval 10.
It's early enough in the morning that the impending storm hasn't yet hit; the day is dark nonetheless under thick, overcast clouds, but hungry dragons aren't to be deterred! It's here that Edela might be found lingering too-casual-like against the wooden fenceposts of the feeding pen while Zraith paces eagerly just beyond the corral. Every so often he casts her a sidelong look, some communication passing between them, but each time, Ed turns just slightly green and shakes her head. "Not yet. Just wait -- wait a bit longer, Zraith." A hard swallow, an uneasy truce won between them, and then the brown chuffs and resumes his patrol, peeking through the slats at the wandering herdbeasts.
Excursions to the feeding pens with actual feeding in mind, are as yet supervised ones, watchful eyes being kept on both draconic and human weyrlings. So it is that G'dri walks along the fence, his own lifemate not immediately in evidence though presumably lurking nearby ready to play his own part in this grisly business called 'teaching the babies to hunt.' "Edela," the Weyrlingmaster hails as he comes within range, his gaze shifting between her and Zraith and back again. "You doing okay there?"
Her twitch of a response isn't Edela startling, not quite: she bounces her head to one side, diffident. "Uh," a chin jerk out over the pens, "Yeah. Sure. Mean, it's just, he ain't -- just there's... Yeah." She musters a smile for the Weyrlingmaster, scrubs a hand through her hair while Zraith pushes himself to his haunches, crouches at the fence's edge and takes a deep sniff of a passing cow. "'s makin' me lose my appetite, listenin' t' him eat. That's all." Then, air quotes, and she modifies slightly: "I mean, "listenin'". If y' know what I mean."
Dragon> Diesel fumes swirl toward Khameth's mind, seeking; idling engines grumble plaintively. << She doesn't want me to hunt, >> the brown grouses. << But man, I'm /hungry/. >> With it: meat! hunt! slice! eat! blood! All in a rush, a wail of electric guitar string struck hard. (Zraith to Khameth)
Given the location and situation, G'dri seems inclined to give her a pass on the failure to salute, a sympathetic grimace passing across his features. "So he's still sharing?" Or, oversharing. He casts the young brown another considering look, before turning his attention back to Edela. "Do the mental separation exercises not help at all? Or is he pushing through them?"
Dragon> A coil of mist clusters beneath tall jungle fronds and coils around massive tree trunks, Khameth's mind calm and serene with hints of strange birdsong rolling around his mellow chuckle. << Why does she not wish you to hunt? >> he queries in his turn, a curious rustle of leaves. >> (Khameth to Zraith)
Sneaking a look over at Zraith, Edela's mouth presses tighter; not quite a frown, dutiful consideration for G'dri's question. "Ain't pushin' through-like. He's just /there/. 's in his voice," again a hesitating beat, and fingers curled again in air quotations as if it needed clarification, "An' even just touchin' base with him it's -- /there/." For the lack of a better description. She waves vaguely, with a rueful sort of smile over at the Weyrlingmaster. "Short of cuttin' him out altogether, don't know how better t' deal with it. 'Cept work on my stomach o' steel."
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith mumbles, << Says she's not ready yet. /I'm/ ready. /I'm/ the hungry one. >> Stubborn in his conviction, the young brown's voice is raspy, darkened, a cheap whiskey shot taken too fast and searing down the throat. << Make him make her let me go, man, c'mon, I'm hungry. >>
G'dri nods, scratching thoughtfully beneath his chin. "Eventually you may become used to it, though some dragons do enjoy it rather more than others and I understand their pleasure can be... unsettling." So apparently he gets it, air quotes or not. "There are certain techniques, visualizations that can aid in... hmm. Dampening him, without closing him out. It will take practice to perfect, but shall we try one now? The longer he must wait, the worse the final sensations may be." He's such a cheery fellow.
Dragon> To Zraith, Khameth doesn't really chide, but a small puff of 'wind' rustles those fronds further. << Humans tend to be more sensitive; very few of them actually hunt, >> he offers wisely. << She will get used to it, in time. They all do. >> Or at least, according to /him/ they do. << You must also learn to control your hunger, young one. We can not always eat when we desire to. However-- >> The mist thickens, rising higher into a wall as he shields communication with another without dropping contact. << Just have a little more patience. He is attemtping to assist her in becoming ready, so that you may eat. Soon. >>
"Yeah, yeah," stiff nods punctuate Edela's agreement, a lifted-brow glance snuck once more at Zraith. Accompanied as it is by a certain distance to her gaze, her irritable, "cut me some slack," is likely directed at her lifemate and not G'dri; either way, once her attention's back on the Weyrlingmaster, it's with narrow-eyed intent and one more sharp nod. "Yeah. Okay. He and me get much more annoyed with each other an' he'll go either way, so let's do this."
Dragon> That wind disturbs slick, glistening puddles of oil, and the brown whines with the offkey dissonance of guitars, << Time, time. Always gotta /wait/ some something, me. >> But the blue's words seem enough, for now, and his engines grumble quieter to idle in the distance. He'll be patient, but somewhere further those guitars are tuning up, buzzing as they plug into amps, and the implication in it is an unspoken /for now/. (Zraith to Khameth)
G'dri ducks his head a little, his lips twitching as he bites back a smile, patiently waiting for the communication between the pair to end. "We can't have that," he remarks a bit too dryly. "If he gets too overeager, advise him that he'll be on half-carcasses from the butcher until such time as he can learn restraint." Cooling blood and no wriggling -- what a let down. Stepping to the fence and turning to lean a shoulder against it, the Weyrlingmaster finds a position that allows him to focus mostly on Edela, while still keeping Zraith in his line-of-sight. "This will be similar to the shielding exercises, but instead of visualizing a solid barrier between you, I want you to imagine something soft, flexible. A dense fog, or a thick blanket surrounding you, perhaps. Focus on the sounds around you, allow them to pass through that barrier but leave everything else outside it. Remove from your awareness the smell of the air, the pens; the feel of the ground beneath your feet and your clothing against your skin; even internal feeling. There are no emotions, no upset stomach. Just sound."
Dragon> Approval is a flash of dappled sunlight against vegetation, that low chuckle wound 'round with avian calls sounding once more. << As do we all, Zraith. There will always be something to wait for. There always is. >> So practicle. But while he's waiting, perhaps he'd like to let Khameth know: << Which one has caught your eye? Any? >> Oooh. He gets to pick out his meal instead of just take whatever's wounded, then. (Khameth to Zraith)
Edela says, "/Carcasses/, Zraith, d' you hear that?" G'dri's threat has Zraith's full attention even without Edela's reiteration, red-tinted facets reflecting his impatience but so put upon, the brown heaves a sigh and lowers his chin to the fencepost to contemplate his prey in (relative) silence. Edela quirks her mouth around her index finger while G'dri speaks, tugging at one fingernail with nibbling teeth, bobs her head to indicate some sort of understanding. The weyrling and weyrlingmaster are leaning against the fence, speaking quietly, while Khameth is yet some distance away; the young woman takes a visibly deep breath, half closing her eyes, and finally expels it at once: "Yeah. Okay." When a herdbeast lows nearby, she jumps slightly, and chuckles uncertainly with a quick look stolen toward G'dri. "Can I tell 'im t' go, yet?"
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith dismisses such wisdom with a smokey swirl of exhaust, youth's arrogance in his smug, << I'm never gonna wait, not when I'm big. >> Ignored is the thought that that, too, is something he must have patience for: instead, he fixes on Khameth's question with keen intent, dull hum of engines revving to a roar. << That one! -- no, that one. /That/ one. >> The last, a single cow milling outside of the herd on a patch of long grass. << Yeah. That one. Gonna eat it up. >> Om nom nom.
That big ol' sigh from Zraith has G'dri rubbing his hand across his mouth, eyes crinkling up at the corners to betray his smile. He remains silent, so as not to disrupt her concentration, turning his head to look out across the pen. When his gaze returns to the weyrling at her words, this time his smile is allowed to be seen, encouraging as he nods his head. "So long as you feel you are ready. I will tell you when Khameth is clear." His eyes lift again, to where a pair of deep blue wings unfurl as the elder dragon launches himself suddenly into the air. Wings beat to gain him some height and then he turns, swooping in a half-circle over the pens to get into position. his dive is sudden, picking out a single small cow who's gotten herself separated from her herd. When he comes down he lands /beside/ her, and his lightning-quick strike is not for her neck, but her leg, a single hard chomp breaking it. As she squalls in pain, he launches away again, the attack over as abruptly as it began. "/Now/ he may go," the Weyrlingmaster prompts -- even if, perhaps, his words come too late.
Dragon> << Then that one you shall have, >> Khameth promises right before he launches himself into the air, the jungle suddenly coming alive with calls and cries, the strange sounds of creatures unseen above and below. And then, before his attack, silence. The contact broken. (Khameth to Zraith)
With the weather threatening Obsidian drilled early--no point in delaying the day's work simply because of heavy rain!--which is likely why Chielyth circles the pens now, when she'd rather be sleeping. Rather than interrupt the lesson she settles on the far side of the fence, leaving Kai a longish walk to get to Weyrlingmaster and weyrling. "Hey," he offers, slowing, and squints at the trio before leaning his arms on the fence. "He's hunting, huh."
Edela's, "Wait--!!" comes a breath too late; Zraith surges over the fence with a lunge when Khameth's half-circle turns overhead, boldness making up for speed and grace in his approach. It's a crude kill, the brown bolting past the Weyrlingmaster's dragon just as Khameth snaps the leg, striking with a clumsy leap to her neck; he's a tangle of wings and legs as he brings down the cow with a trumpet. Ed cringes, burying her head in her hands, muttering something incomprehensible but sharp, and peeks up through her fingers at G'dri: B'kaiv, too, behind him, and Ed puffs out her cheeks. "Yep," she manages to croak, to her credit, too busy with her hands to her mouth to snap off a salute.
Dragon> To Khameth, Zraith's pleasure is the rising howl of guitars through crackling amps to meet the calls of Khameth's jungle. When the blue retreats from his mind, Zraith stumbles briefly against the absense, glistening oil leaking into the darkness, but forgotten soon enough -- impatience overwhelming, turbines and pistons blasting alive with a roar, the weyrling brown takes off after his kill. Then: triumph! Did Khameth see that?!
Very much too late was that prompt, and G'dri's facepalm does little to hide the thundercloud that decides his brow is a much more fun place to rest than up in the sky where it belong. He may be slowing down a bit, but Khameth's leap still gets him clear in time -- he's not /that/ old or infirm, even with the impending storm undoubtedly making his shoulder ache. At least the thundercloud look is being directed at the young brown, and not his weyrling? "Perhaps, Edela," he begins in very, very careful tone, "we will start you a bit early on lessons in... containment." Corners of his mouth pulling down, he turns his blue eyes on her rather than watch the ah, youthful exuberance. It takes a couple moments for him to acknowledge, "Kai. No drills this morning?" Since he really isn't paying much attention to wings outside Quartz, unless he's roping them into a display to help his charges with their formations memorizing.
Dragon> While he had cut off that contact to spare the young one from his own spike of bloodlust engendered by the attack, Khameth does re-open that link once the kill has been made. With a swirl of heavy fog as he continues to circle overhead, trying to dampen the effects on his mind from the dull throb in his shoulder. << Sloppy, young one. Very sloppy. You have no patience and had I not been holding her attention-- >> is that what he calls it? << --she likely would have planted both hind hooves in your ribs. >> Oh yes he saw. He's just not impressed. (Khameth to Zraith)
The greenrider winces--at what, besides 'something in the pen' isn't clear-- and turns from Khameth and Zraith to face their riders. He's got an absent-minded salute for Edela, more to get it over with than anything, and a rueful headshake for G'dri. "Shells, should be so lucky. Nah, he moved 'em up. Woke Chielyth up. Woke th' whole sharding wing up. Figured as she should eat something before she gets a nap." Now he checks back to see how the baby's doing, but only peripherally. "She's already tired. Ain't like she needs this before she gets proddy."
Zraith appears for all the world blissfully ignorant of G'dri's thunderstorm vexation, neck deep as he is in his kill. It's his lifemate who shrinks back into her cupped hands, stoic and notably Not Looking at the young brown but instead fixing brown eyes on the Weyrlingmaster overtop of her fingertips as her eyebrows knit. "Think we'd both 'preciate that, sir," she mumbles, flicking a look at Zraith and regretting it immediately from the paling of her typically dark-skinned complexion. She clues in just after Kai's salute, and, better late than never, clips off two short salutes to both riders. "... proddy," she repeats softly after Kai, staring at the man as if this were something she would never have thought of on her own.
Dragon> Blood splatters into oil, and Zraith's unmitigated satisfaction cannot be dampened by Khameth's words. Except -- there's a moment of wavering uncertainty, tuneless modulation, and the young brown lingers over, << -- my ribs. I need those. >> He shakes it off, amps cranking with a nevermind-that dismissal. << Killed her, didn't I? >> So there. And he eats, sparing Khameth, at least, from the brunt of his 'sharing'. (Zraith to Khameth)
"It will not be particularly pleasant," G'dri warns, still stern though it is clear by the way he's controlling his voice and at least /trying/ to smooth out his scowl as he looks at the young woman, that he's saving his anger solely for the draconic half of the pair. "Especially if he's inclined to fight you on it. But perhaps, given his wilfullness, the extra time to work on the techniques will serve you well as he matures." With an odd look for /Kai/ after that last bit, his brows twitching faintly. "He will be restricted from further hunts for the next two sevendays, at least. Any longer and the lesson may well be lost on him entirely," he mutters, shaking his head. Next words as well directed at the greenrider, "You have informed him, I trust?"
Dragon> Mental winds shake curving fronds and large things slither beneath them in the shadows, Khameth's disappointment in the young brown still heavy. << Yes, you did. And what would have happened to *her*-- >> the image of Edela so sharp and clearly defined it's as if the old blue has studied every aspect of her -- which he probably has << --had you been hurt? Think on /that/, young one. >> A calculated pause, before a quieter, << Do enjoy your meal. >> (Khameth to Zraith)
Chielyth continues to crouch at the edge of the pens, alternately yawning and narrowing her eyes at the herdbeasts, but she makes no move to enter. Her rider shoots her looks now and again, but he doesn't try and send her into the air either, but continues the conversation with the others. "Shells, can't you control him yet?" is for Edela, complete with a what-is-this-world-coming-to shake of his head. The, "Huh, what?" is for G'dri, and Kai shakes his head again, scowling. "Yeah. He says as long as I don't let her do nothing 'inappropriate', he don't see no reason we can't drill until day before she's supposed t' go up." There's another thunderstorm gathering, this time on the greenrider's face.
Ed takes one great big deep breath, dropping her hands to grip the fence; the motion tightens to her shoulders for Kai's comment and she allows herself only one dark glance his way, teeth firmly setting into her lower lip to bite back her reply. "Nope," she says instead, tightly, and refocuses on G'dri with one shoulder lifting and falling. "'s okay. I'm all right with that. He won't be," with a jerk of her chin and another pointed not-looking-at-Zraith shift of brown eyes, "But. Yeah. Two sevens, got it. Uh. Might need some backup, though, if it comes t' that." With the slightest of nods toward Khameth.
Dragon> Slow at first to respond to that image of His Girl, there's a building tension, a tightness between strings whining out of tune, diesel tang harsh in the rising smoke before Zraith snaps in a discord bellow, << NO! >> The brown grasps for the image, mineminemine!, won'twon'twon't!, before retreating entirely, guitar strings snapping into darkness. (Zraith to Khameth)
"/B'kaiv/," G'dri says rather sharply, for that thoughtless comment, his head being shaken warningly. The 'control /yourself/' remains silent, contained in the set of his mouth and the slight tension deepening the lines at the corners of his eyes. Just a titch protective of his weyrlings, is the bluerider. Letting out a careful breath, he straightens away from the fence, and aims a pat of his hand at one of Edela's tight shoulders. "Of course, Edela. You have our support, always," he assures, his own glance flickering to take in Zraith and then lifting further to find Khameth, searching until he finds the old blue ambling over to pay his respects to Chielyth. As he looks back towards Kai, he nods shortly. "A very typical practice during a Pass. The attitudes of wingleaders have become much more lenient, even with... the reminder we received. Such a decision on his part doesn't surprise me."
B'kaiv shoots a glance G'dri's way, but the Weyrlingmaster's knot must be good for intimidating more than just weyrlings, for he pushes off the fence to face Edela square on before muttering, "Sorry. That's one thing me and her didn't have much problem with." He blows out a breath and turns to face the pens, continues on to include Khameth and Chielyth in the circuit. "She's in a real bad mood," he warns over his shoulder, adds another headshake and amends, "So'm I. Shells. Gonna go see if she can get that nap first, maybe. She don't hardly know what time it is no more."
Edela leans her shoulder into that pat for an instant and shifts weight onto one hip pressed against the fence. A tightening of her mouth, the faintest frown while she seeks out Zraith for her first lingering look at the brown, ends in a quick shake of her head and and a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes at B'kaiv. "'s okay. Feel better," is offered awkwardly for the phrasing of it, and there's a small wriggling of fingers across the pens to Chielyth despite the greenrider's warning. Settling deeper into her lean, Edela watches Zraith quietly; no indication she'll be leaving, not until he's done eating, at least.
A twitch of one corner of his mouth isn't even close to a smile, but the look in G'dri's eyes warms considerably for the apology when it's offered. "Noted," he says quietly, but doesn't give any outward indication of a mental warning to his blue. "Indeed," he continues, an echo of Edela's awkward sentiment. "It's off schedule, but perhaps if this storm opens up, she can catch up on some sleep during." He too doesn't look like he'll be leaving the pens any time soon, though he will give Edela some space, before time comes to escort her and Zraith back to the barracks. Just to make sure the brown actually /gets/ there.