Light chatter
It is an autumn dusk, 18:00 of day 22, month 10, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr
There is a little more grass in this section of the bowl than at the center, though this can be attributed to the lake that's not too far off and not to any improvement to the sandy soil. More weyrs can be seen high along the mountain walls to either side, though there are none in the massive earthworks that spill down the southernmost section of the volcanically created valley.
The sandy lake shore is further to the southwest, creating a vast half-crescent that contains the blue-green waters of the lake proper. More to the west would be the feeding grounds that contain the animals designated for being consumed by both dragons and humans alike. Off toward the distant northeast would be the weyrling barracks, the Weyrleader's complex, the hatching complex, living cavern, and infirmary.
Obvious exits:
Northern Bowl Weyrling Barracks Lakeshore Hot Springs Guest Weyr Infirmary Feeding Grounds
Evening paints the bowl in purples and greys; though it's chilly, there is still plenty of activity in the bowl. Near the infirmary Kai's helping one of the older Healers from Chielyth's back, the little green staying /very still/ despite having her head cranked around to watch the dismount. "...And thank you too, Chielyth," the man says, which earns him a pleased whuff and wiggle, before he heads into the brightly lit cavern of his calling.
It's an unfamiliar figure who's walking in the direction of the infirmary, though at an oblique angle that suggests she intends to walk -past- and isn't intending on actually going -in.- Unfamiliar, only until she gets close enough for her features to be made out, and for one to realize that the figure belongs to Kaida. In trousers. And a bulky sweater. And a scarf. And it's not even properly winter! She spares a brief glance for the charming little green, but neither does she seem inclined to stop and visit her, either. At least, not with B'kaiv in attendance.
Chielyth's attention slips from boring walking-away-from-her man to that far more interesting scarf-and-bundled; she whuffles at Kaida too, and settles her wings on her back. Kai glances over incuriously, says, "Hey," in the tone of voice that declares how much he doesn't recognize her. "You need a lift anywhere? We're on duty t'night."
Not quite as bundled up as Kaida, but certainly layered already against the autumnal chill, T'rev makes his way /out/ of the infirmary with noticeable other layers aroud his hand: the white padding of bandaging. Has someone been misusing his tools again? There's a glance sent B'kaiv's way but it's Kaida who wreathes his face with a smile. "Hey Kaida," he calls out and adds on a nod for Kai as he draws near. Simply: "Kai."
Sigh. Even under the layers one can see Kaida's shoulders slump. "B'kaiv," is all she states, her roughened voice and Igen cadence a dead give-away as to her identity. With the helpful little nudge of T'rev, there, if the weyrling still doesn't twig. "T'rev," honest pleasure there, at least until her gaze dips and those bandages are spotted. The Weaver picks up her pace to a trot to close the remaining distance, "Shells. What have you done to yourself!?" she demands.
Does the weyrling's face fall at the Weaver's identification? Well, maybe a little. "You don't need no ride, then," he states more than guesses, ducks around Chielyth's front to offer the Wingleader a grimace and a salute. "Sir." Does he ask what T'rev's done to himself? He doesn't. Nor does he leave Chielyth's side, though the little green has stretched her neck out toward the bronzerider, sniffing with interest at those bandages.
"Transport tonight, Kai?" T'rev inquires politely though he's holding his bandaged hand out for Chielyth's sniffing and grinning wryly at Kaida. "I was in a knife fight and doing stupid things," he teases, laughs a little. "Actually, just caught my hand on a twist in a buckle on Mecaith's straps coming back from sweeps. Have to hammer it down, but it sliced in a really inconvenient spot on my palm. Won't damage up permanent-like, b ut it's annoying. Needed some stitches."
If the appropriate reaction is widened eyes and disappearing eyebrows, Kaida obliges. Briefly. The expression swiftly transforms to a narrow-eyed scowl, but there's absolutely no force behind it. Token glower, along with, "Oh, T'rev, you're as bad as Su." With that, the bronzer can consider himself scolded. B'kaiv? B'kaiv who? Oh, him. "You made up your mind about that sweater, yet?"
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth announces with delight that T'rev's hands are white!
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith is up on his ledge actually, watching the stars start to come out. But his attention descends. << Good evening, Chielyth. I believe it is only the one, but you are correct as to the color of the bandaging. >>
B'kaiv's expression lifts, briefly, at the knife fight, only to drop back into lines of disgruntled neutrality when no, it wasn't anything nearly as interesting. Chielyth arches her neck so she can get an up close and personal look at those bandaged mitts, rumbles something and blows hot meaty breath on the man. "Hope you ain't gonna lose no use of it," Kai supplies, before looking back to Kaida. "...Yeah. Only - it gonna be cheaper, you don't try t' match th' color? Blue, or somethin'. Maybe that red. I got," he adds, rummaging at his belt, "Th' marks. Was gonna come see you, after."
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth brushes the correction off easily - one hand, both hands. The /important/ bit is the color! Like clouds! And she promptly sticks clouds on the end of crayon-T'rev's sleeves. Big poofy clouds. Like sheep!
"It's just been bad luck lately," T'rev says with a laugh. "I go trompin' around Nerat with my Da and don't even get a bug sting. Slide off Mecaith wrong, slice my hand, go figure," the bronzerider says with a shake of his head. "And nope, won't. Not so deep it should, just right across the middle. No tendons though." He looks curiously between the other two, brows up. "Sweater?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith takes this in with all due seriousness. << I am not sure that sheep make good hands but the material that the bandages are made from looks somewhat like a cloud. >> He envisions cotton puffs.
Dragon> Yes! Like sheep! And to show him, T'rev's hands grow four black lines each for legs, and here are ears with pink in the middle, and ooh! Black eyes, too! Once she's done, she displays T'rev-with-sheep proudly. Ta-da! (Chielyth to Mecaith)
Kaida's expression meets that disgruntlement, raises it to annoyance. "Blue. Or that red. B'kaiv, do you -want- to look a Harper's motley? Maybe you'll want a few coloured ribbons added, so you can dance for the children? This genius," turning now to answer T'rev, "dared some other genius that his dragon couldn't hit his sweater with a gout of flame." It's the sheer offence of perfectly good knitwear being used as -target practice- that's got her ire up. Still. "He's lucky there's anything left to salvage." Poor T'rev. Even injured and he's still not getting the attention he deserves. But Kaida does choose to stand next to him, at least?
"S'only a shirt," says Kai with a careless shrug that's bound to raise the blood pressure of every Weaver in a fifty-mile radius. "Said yourself it weren't gonna be fit t' be seen. Didn't think Saulienth were good enough with his flame yet," he adds to T'rev, by way of explanation. "Only burnt off th' arm; didn't do no real damage." Which reminds him of the other topic, and back to Kaida: "So's it gonna be cheaper, you don't try t' match the rest of it?"
Back and forth. Kai. Kaida. Blue? Red? "I vote red!" T'rev says cheerily. Because of /course/ he always votes red. "And yeah, really? Heh. Someone's butt got singed in my class when they dared about the pants. 'Course it ain't so funny when someone loses their eyes. That happened up at the Reaches," T'rev says more seriously and nods at Kai solemnly. He doesn't seem put out about the lack of female drapery about his injury.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith is again patient though there's a dry rustle of sands at the thought of sheep hands. << I think that fingers work better. >>
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth projects, << Not if you want a snack! >> Helpful T'rev holds out his sheepy hands for a scribbly bronze Mecaith to have a bite. Scribbly Mecaith even says, << Mmm, tasty. >>
Dragon> Further sandy rustling sounds in Mecaith's mind. << But then T'rev would have no hands anymore and would not be able to oil me. Those are however, very good sheep, Chielyth. You have quite the sense of humor. >> (Mecaith to Chielyth)
"And most of the front! Five holes, B'kaiv, one for each finger." The implication being that even he should be able to count that high. Kaida sets her hands on her hips, but oddly enough it's a snort of laughter instead of a snap. Being due, entirely, to T'rev's cheerful interjection. "You would. I should make you something in bright green for your Turnday so you feel obliged to wear it," she teases. Mercurial? Her? Back to the greenling, "And no, I said the colouration difference would be noticable, not that it wouldn't be fit to be seen. Fine." The next figure she names knocks a whopping eighth-mark of her original price. "I don't think he was actually wearing it when," squint "Sariath? torched it."
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth has to think about that for a few seconds. << Oh, >> she finally allows, << That's right. >> So she leaves little sheepy legs kicking out of scribbly Mecaith's mouth, and colors in proper hands for T'rev. Not white.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith beams sunny approval Chielyth's way. << Very well done. Healed hands no less! >>
"Weren't nobody near it," Kai's quick to assure T'rev, before casting a puzzled look up at Chielyth. "Dunno what she's talkin' about, sheep for hands," he says in an undertone, nods to Kaida. "--Saulienth. An'... shells. That's all?" Still he shrugs, and uses both hands to draw the appropriate amount of wooden disks from his pouch. "How long's it gonna take t' fix?"
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth wriggles, pleased. << I see Kai's hands all the time. So it is not hard to pretend *T'rev* has Kai's hands. >> Even if they're sheepy just at the moment.
"She's ... doing funny things with the bandages," T'rev claims with a laugh. "Made 'em into sheep. It's kind of funny," the bronzerider says then looks over at Kai again. "Accidents happen with flaming. Just you know, be careful," he says quietly. "Wouldn't want to hear about you really getting damaged." To Kaida: "Bright green? Like olive better."
"Right," Kaida says absently, not really caring a whit about the strange dragon's name. "Yes, that's all." Hand outstretched, she'll wait until the marks are safely exchanged before she notes, "Because I'm not going to use either blue or red, or any other ridiculous colour. Depends. A seven or two. When I get around to it." Her words don't match her work ethic. When she accepts a job she does it, promptly. Back to T'rev, a grin, crooked and full of devilment, "Yes, but that wouldn't be any fun. The point is making you wear a colour you -don't- like. Much."
Those guarded walls that B'kaiv so frequently sports are back, his voice two shades shy of disrespect. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen t' me, or her. Or nobody," he tells them both as his arms fold over his middle. "An' /you/ said th' price was so high 'cause you was gonna be settin' stuff aside t' do it." Glower, glower.
Puppy dog eyes. T'rev is making puppy dog eyes at Kaida. "But ... okay. If you really have to. Hot pink. I really don't like hot pink." BEat. "On me." The wingleader looks back over at Kai. "Why do you do that when people say things because they care about you Kai?"
Guarded walls are something Kaida knows about, so if B'kaiv receives a suddenly sharper look than the dagger-edged ones she's already been giving, he's only got himself to blame. Relenting, just a little, her voice modulating down to something with a lot less snap to it, "You're right, I did say that. It is still going to take time, though. Three days." She almost sounds like she actually cares. And her expression will match her voice as she looks up at T'rev's puppy eyes, though tinged with amusement. "Oh, don't worry dear one. I'm not that mean." To him.
If Kai narrows his eyes at T'rev's 'hot pink' quip, it's only a flicker. Maybe he got smoke in his eyes from the Healer's bonfire. His manner certainly isn't any improved. "'Cause I already know t' be careful 'round flames. You ain't got t' treat me like no dimglow." Kaida's words, at least, mollify him a smidgen; he drops her a nod and looks to the other end of the bowl. Is anyone waiting around for transport? No, no one is. Or at least, no one with a light. Chielyth snorts and flips her wings, tilts her head to put both T'rev and Kaida in her line of sight.
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth imagines T'rev /as/ a sheep, only a pink one!
"I wasn't, Kai, I was expressing concern for your safety, since y'all decided to do the dare thing, if I was treating you like a dimglow, I'd actually use the word, dimglow," T'rev claims. "Could be kind of funny though. Hot pink. Bright green. Orange," the bronzerider musters a teasing tone for Kaida, then looks up towards his ledge. "I am /not/ a sheep!"
Kaida's just going to stay out of the dimglow discussion, because that's the wise thing to do as it won't end up in Su being mad at her again. And since her business with B'kaiv is pretty much concluded, she dismisses the weyrling from her attentions. Not that T'rev's going to get them for very much longer, either. A light chuckle for his suggested colour combination, "Ask Su to show you her Turnday present. Tell him," she then advices in the wake of that shouting-to-the-air, "that you are rather lacking in fleece, and what you do have is much to fine to be spun into anything useful. Not that you'd look good -at all- with a shaved head." And with that, she turns and abandons the men to their more serious dragonridery conversation, lifting one hand in a wave over her shoulder as she wanders off.
B'kaiv glowers after Kaida, dropping her a nod of farewell once she's too far away to appreciate the artistry. "Dunno what's got int' her head," he observes to the air as he leans back against Chielyth's chest. "S'pose I better go see if anyone needs us." Someone at the other end of the bowl, he means, giving a nod that way.
"She's just funning around," T'rev says about Chielyth. "It's fine, you know. Mecaith's just kind of ... well he's teasing me. Anyhow, I should go see about readin' stories too. I'll see you, Kai. After my hand gets better. We can go a couple of rounds," the bronzerider says and lifts his non-injured hand in a wave. Mecaith ... he just nudges that sheep image again, amused. << We will have to go get sheep snacks sometime. >>
"Teasin' you," Kai repeats, bemused, and squints one eye nearly closed. "Didn't think him t' be th' sort. Not like," and he jerks his head up at the green, who is staring up at Mecaith's ledge. "S'prised there ain't more people walkin' around in rags," he adds, "If it takes that much just t' repair one sweater. Shoulda just told her t' use it for rags."
"It's ... subtle. His teasing," T'rev says with a wry grin. A breath in a breath out. "I'm ... not goin' to get in the middle of all that. you have a good night now, Kai," he says sincerely and ambles away towards the caverns.
Dunno what he meant by that. Ought just go and get my marks back, but shells. Didn't know prices was that high at the Weyrs. Oughta just... shells. I dunno.
Him having sheep for hands was pretty funny, though.
Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr
There is a little more grass in this section of the bowl than at the center, though this can be attributed to the lake that's not too far off and not to any improvement to the sandy soil. More weyrs can be seen high along the mountain walls to either side, though there are none in the massive earthworks that spill down the southernmost section of the volcanically created valley.
The sandy lake shore is further to the southwest, creating a vast half-crescent that contains the blue-green waters of the lake proper. More to the west would be the feeding grounds that contain the animals designated for being consumed by both dragons and humans alike. Off toward the distant northeast would be the weyrling barracks, the Weyrleader's complex, the hatching complex, living cavern, and infirmary.
Obvious exits:
Northern Bowl Weyrling Barracks Lakeshore Hot Springs Guest Weyr Infirmary Feeding Grounds
Evening paints the bowl in purples and greys; though it's chilly, there is still plenty of activity in the bowl. Near the infirmary Kai's helping one of the older Healers from Chielyth's back, the little green staying /very still/ despite having her head cranked around to watch the dismount. "...And thank you too, Chielyth," the man says, which earns him a pleased whuff and wiggle, before he heads into the brightly lit cavern of his calling.
It's an unfamiliar figure who's walking in the direction of the infirmary, though at an oblique angle that suggests she intends to walk -past- and isn't intending on actually going -in.- Unfamiliar, only until she gets close enough for her features to be made out, and for one to realize that the figure belongs to Kaida. In trousers. And a bulky sweater. And a scarf. And it's not even properly winter! She spares a brief glance for the charming little green, but neither does she seem inclined to stop and visit her, either. At least, not with B'kaiv in attendance.
Chielyth's attention slips from boring walking-away-from-her man to that far more interesting scarf-and-bundled; she whuffles at Kaida too, and settles her wings on her back. Kai glances over incuriously, says, "Hey," in the tone of voice that declares how much he doesn't recognize her. "You need a lift anywhere? We're on duty t'night."
Not quite as bundled up as Kaida, but certainly layered already against the autumnal chill, T'rev makes his way /out/ of the infirmary with noticeable other layers aroud his hand: the white padding of bandaging. Has someone been misusing his tools again? There's a glance sent B'kaiv's way but it's Kaida who wreathes his face with a smile. "Hey Kaida," he calls out and adds on a nod for Kai as he draws near. Simply: "Kai."
Sigh. Even under the layers one can see Kaida's shoulders slump. "B'kaiv," is all she states, her roughened voice and Igen cadence a dead give-away as to her identity. With the helpful little nudge of T'rev, there, if the weyrling still doesn't twig. "T'rev," honest pleasure there, at least until her gaze dips and those bandages are spotted. The Weaver picks up her pace to a trot to close the remaining distance, "Shells. What have you done to yourself!?" she demands.
Does the weyrling's face fall at the Weaver's identification? Well, maybe a little. "You don't need no ride, then," he states more than guesses, ducks around Chielyth's front to offer the Wingleader a grimace and a salute. "Sir." Does he ask what T'rev's done to himself? He doesn't. Nor does he leave Chielyth's side, though the little green has stretched her neck out toward the bronzerider, sniffing with interest at those bandages.
"Transport tonight, Kai?" T'rev inquires politely though he's holding his bandaged hand out for Chielyth's sniffing and grinning wryly at Kaida. "I was in a knife fight and doing stupid things," he teases, laughs a little. "Actually, just caught my hand on a twist in a buckle on Mecaith's straps coming back from sweeps. Have to hammer it down, but it sliced in a really inconvenient spot on my palm. Won't damage up permanent-like, b ut it's annoying. Needed some stitches."
If the appropriate reaction is widened eyes and disappearing eyebrows, Kaida obliges. Briefly. The expression swiftly transforms to a narrow-eyed scowl, but there's absolutely no force behind it. Token glower, along with, "Oh, T'rev, you're as bad as Su." With that, the bronzer can consider himself scolded. B'kaiv? B'kaiv who? Oh, him. "You made up your mind about that sweater, yet?"
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth announces with delight that T'rev's hands are white!
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith is up on his ledge actually, watching the stars start to come out. But his attention descends. << Good evening, Chielyth. I believe it is only the one, but you are correct as to the color of the bandaging. >>
B'kaiv's expression lifts, briefly, at the knife fight, only to drop back into lines of disgruntled neutrality when no, it wasn't anything nearly as interesting. Chielyth arches her neck so she can get an up close and personal look at those bandaged mitts, rumbles something and blows hot meaty breath on the man. "Hope you ain't gonna lose no use of it," Kai supplies, before looking back to Kaida. "...Yeah. Only - it gonna be cheaper, you don't try t' match th' color? Blue, or somethin'. Maybe that red. I got," he adds, rummaging at his belt, "Th' marks. Was gonna come see you, after."
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth brushes the correction off easily - one hand, both hands. The /important/ bit is the color! Like clouds! And she promptly sticks clouds on the end of crayon-T'rev's sleeves. Big poofy clouds. Like sheep!
"It's just been bad luck lately," T'rev says with a laugh. "I go trompin' around Nerat with my Da and don't even get a bug sting. Slide off Mecaith wrong, slice my hand, go figure," the bronzerider says with a shake of his head. "And nope, won't. Not so deep it should, just right across the middle. No tendons though." He looks curiously between the other two, brows up. "Sweater?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith takes this in with all due seriousness. << I am not sure that sheep make good hands but the material that the bandages are made from looks somewhat like a cloud. >> He envisions cotton puffs.
Dragon> Yes! Like sheep! And to show him, T'rev's hands grow four black lines each for legs, and here are ears with pink in the middle, and ooh! Black eyes, too! Once she's done, she displays T'rev-with-sheep proudly. Ta-da! (Chielyth to Mecaith)
Kaida's expression meets that disgruntlement, raises it to annoyance. "Blue. Or that red. B'kaiv, do you -want- to look a Harper's motley? Maybe you'll want a few coloured ribbons added, so you can dance for the children? This genius," turning now to answer T'rev, "dared some other genius that his dragon couldn't hit his sweater with a gout of flame." It's the sheer offence of perfectly good knitwear being used as -target practice- that's got her ire up. Still. "He's lucky there's anything left to salvage." Poor T'rev. Even injured and he's still not getting the attention he deserves. But Kaida does choose to stand next to him, at least?
"S'only a shirt," says Kai with a careless shrug that's bound to raise the blood pressure of every Weaver in a fifty-mile radius. "Said yourself it weren't gonna be fit t' be seen. Didn't think Saulienth were good enough with his flame yet," he adds to T'rev, by way of explanation. "Only burnt off th' arm; didn't do no real damage." Which reminds him of the other topic, and back to Kaida: "So's it gonna be cheaper, you don't try t' match the rest of it?"
Back and forth. Kai. Kaida. Blue? Red? "I vote red!" T'rev says cheerily. Because of /course/ he always votes red. "And yeah, really? Heh. Someone's butt got singed in my class when they dared about the pants. 'Course it ain't so funny when someone loses their eyes. That happened up at the Reaches," T'rev says more seriously and nods at Kai solemnly. He doesn't seem put out about the lack of female drapery about his injury.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith is again patient though there's a dry rustle of sands at the thought of sheep hands. << I think that fingers work better. >>
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth projects, << Not if you want a snack! >> Helpful T'rev holds out his sheepy hands for a scribbly bronze Mecaith to have a bite. Scribbly Mecaith even says, << Mmm, tasty. >>
Dragon> Further sandy rustling sounds in Mecaith's mind. << But then T'rev would have no hands anymore and would not be able to oil me. Those are however, very good sheep, Chielyth. You have quite the sense of humor. >> (Mecaith to Chielyth)
"And most of the front! Five holes, B'kaiv, one for each finger." The implication being that even he should be able to count that high. Kaida sets her hands on her hips, but oddly enough it's a snort of laughter instead of a snap. Being due, entirely, to T'rev's cheerful interjection. "You would. I should make you something in bright green for your Turnday so you feel obliged to wear it," she teases. Mercurial? Her? Back to the greenling, "And no, I said the colouration difference would be noticable, not that it wouldn't be fit to be seen. Fine." The next figure she names knocks a whopping eighth-mark of her original price. "I don't think he was actually wearing it when," squint "Sariath? torched it."
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth has to think about that for a few seconds. << Oh, >> she finally allows, << That's right. >> So she leaves little sheepy legs kicking out of scribbly Mecaith's mouth, and colors in proper hands for T'rev. Not white.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Mecaith beams sunny approval Chielyth's way. << Very well done. Healed hands no less! >>
"Weren't nobody near it," Kai's quick to assure T'rev, before casting a puzzled look up at Chielyth. "Dunno what she's talkin' about, sheep for hands," he says in an undertone, nods to Kaida. "--Saulienth. An'... shells. That's all?" Still he shrugs, and uses both hands to draw the appropriate amount of wooden disks from his pouch. "How long's it gonna take t' fix?"
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth wriggles, pleased. << I see Kai's hands all the time. So it is not hard to pretend *T'rev* has Kai's hands. >> Even if they're sheepy just at the moment.
"She's ... doing funny things with the bandages," T'rev claims with a laugh. "Made 'em into sheep. It's kind of funny," the bronzerider says then looks over at Kai again. "Accidents happen with flaming. Just you know, be careful," he says quietly. "Wouldn't want to hear about you really getting damaged." To Kaida: "Bright green? Like olive better."
"Right," Kaida says absently, not really caring a whit about the strange dragon's name. "Yes, that's all." Hand outstretched, she'll wait until the marks are safely exchanged before she notes, "Because I'm not going to use either blue or red, or any other ridiculous colour. Depends. A seven or two. When I get around to it." Her words don't match her work ethic. When she accepts a job she does it, promptly. Back to T'rev, a grin, crooked and full of devilment, "Yes, but that wouldn't be any fun. The point is making you wear a colour you -don't- like. Much."
Those guarded walls that B'kaiv so frequently sports are back, his voice two shades shy of disrespect. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen t' me, or her. Or nobody," he tells them both as his arms fold over his middle. "An' /you/ said th' price was so high 'cause you was gonna be settin' stuff aside t' do it." Glower, glower.
Puppy dog eyes. T'rev is making puppy dog eyes at Kaida. "But ... okay. If you really have to. Hot pink. I really don't like hot pink." BEat. "On me." The wingleader looks back over at Kai. "Why do you do that when people say things because they care about you Kai?"
Guarded walls are something Kaida knows about, so if B'kaiv receives a suddenly sharper look than the dagger-edged ones she's already been giving, he's only got himself to blame. Relenting, just a little, her voice modulating down to something with a lot less snap to it, "You're right, I did say that. It is still going to take time, though. Three days." She almost sounds like she actually cares. And her expression will match her voice as she looks up at T'rev's puppy eyes, though tinged with amusement. "Oh, don't worry dear one. I'm not that mean." To him.
If Kai narrows his eyes at T'rev's 'hot pink' quip, it's only a flicker. Maybe he got smoke in his eyes from the Healer's bonfire. His manner certainly isn't any improved. "'Cause I already know t' be careful 'round flames. You ain't got t' treat me like no dimglow." Kaida's words, at least, mollify him a smidgen; he drops her a nod and looks to the other end of the bowl. Is anyone waiting around for transport? No, no one is. Or at least, no one with a light. Chielyth snorts and flips her wings, tilts her head to put both T'rev and Kaida in her line of sight.
Dragon> To Mecaith, Chielyth imagines T'rev /as/ a sheep, only a pink one!
"I wasn't, Kai, I was expressing concern for your safety, since y'all decided to do the dare thing, if I was treating you like a dimglow, I'd actually use the word, dimglow," T'rev claims. "Could be kind of funny though. Hot pink. Bright green. Orange," the bronzerider musters a teasing tone for Kaida, then looks up towards his ledge. "I am /not/ a sheep!"
Kaida's just going to stay out of the dimglow discussion, because that's the wise thing to do as it won't end up in Su being mad at her again. And since her business with B'kaiv is pretty much concluded, she dismisses the weyrling from her attentions. Not that T'rev's going to get them for very much longer, either. A light chuckle for his suggested colour combination, "Ask Su to show you her Turnday present. Tell him," she then advices in the wake of that shouting-to-the-air, "that you are rather lacking in fleece, and what you do have is much to fine to be spun into anything useful. Not that you'd look good -at all- with a shaved head." And with that, she turns and abandons the men to their more serious dragonridery conversation, lifting one hand in a wave over her shoulder as she wanders off.
B'kaiv glowers after Kaida, dropping her a nod of farewell once she's too far away to appreciate the artistry. "Dunno what's got int' her head," he observes to the air as he leans back against Chielyth's chest. "S'pose I better go see if anyone needs us." Someone at the other end of the bowl, he means, giving a nod that way.
"She's just funning around," T'rev says about Chielyth. "It's fine, you know. Mecaith's just kind of ... well he's teasing me. Anyhow, I should go see about readin' stories too. I'll see you, Kai. After my hand gets better. We can go a couple of rounds," the bronzerider says and lifts his non-injured hand in a wave. Mecaith ... he just nudges that sheep image again, amused. << We will have to go get sheep snacks sometime. >>
"Teasin' you," Kai repeats, bemused, and squints one eye nearly closed. "Didn't think him t' be th' sort. Not like," and he jerks his head up at the green, who is staring up at Mecaith's ledge. "S'prised there ain't more people walkin' around in rags," he adds, "If it takes that much just t' repair one sweater. Shoulda just told her t' use it for rags."
"It's ... subtle. His teasing," T'rev says with a wry grin. A breath in a breath out. "I'm ... not goin' to get in the middle of all that. you have a good night now, Kai," he says sincerely and ambles away towards the caverns.
Dunno what he meant by that. Ought just go and get my marks back, but shells. Didn't know prices was that high at the Weyrs. Oughta just... shells. I dunno.
Him having sheep for hands was pretty funny, though.