(no subject)
It is a spring afternoon of day 9, month 3, turn 21 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
Khazioth contemplates this for a minute. << Ellasyn-- >> Apparently At're's mother is enough of a force to the young man's mind that Khazioth can recall without compulsions her name, << She sends things. They are... different. >> The images he shares could very well be from a cheap disposable camera used in the field: gritty images, that display content without worrying about how grainy they come across. Sturdy boots, heavy grade pants in an assortment of dark browns, shirts of every color of autumn. A few belts. A peculiar item: a ring, delicate and obvious a woman's creation. << Practical. >> Khazioth approves of practical individuals. << Wait. You don't get her respect, or you just don't feel that she's respectful to anyone else? >> Khazioth, the soldier trying to puzzle it out. "Since I was--" At're's talking about running, standing in front of Jiella sitting on a boulder, their two dragons offset a bit. "--damn, must have been ten or eleven, I started chasing after the guards," he mulls aloud. "Since twelve, for sure. That's when I-- apprenticed, I suppose, in a fashion, to the guard." He smiles, briefly; "Push-ups aren't that bad." Says the man with the guns. "...wanting to-- do everything?" Inquisitively, as if At're doesn't exactly catch her meaning.
Orisoth is looking at At're like looking at him might help figure something out, near Khazioth in that dragon-conferring sort of way. << Some are practical, for her. She considers jewelry practical, though it is not quite seen as such at the moment. >> Perhaps Jiella is not all that different from other holder girls! << And she does not have much respect for her parents, at times. >> THe blonde's posed herself on that boulder attractively, looking up at the other weyrling with a slight smile, definitely flirty. With her own disbelief now, "You wanted to run? And I guess you actually wanted to be a guard?" She's not sure why someone would go picking that by her dubious tone, but she's not going to criticize, though she will note, "Not bad for /you/. For me?" A shudder before, "He... He wants to see things, experience things, figure things out. He wants to know."
Chielyth glides over from the lake, strapless and still dripping, to land a little way from the babies. << Hi! >> says she cheerfully, accompanied by the sunshine that's slowly getting more common as Spring approaches. Other than that she doesn't interrupt the boys' conversation, though she fidgets from foot to foot, tail twitch-twitch-twitching. B'kaiv's not too far behind her, and while he -does- have straps, they're over his shoulder instead of being worn. Spotting the weyrlings he heads over, dropping Jiella a nod and At're a crisper one - but no salute for either. "Hey. Got some free time, huh?"
<< Well hello there, sunshine, >> Khazioth, for all his youth, isn't without a rather appreciative flicker of swamp water at Chielyth's landing. To Orisoth, << Hmm. Well, maybe she'll grow out of it. >> His words are frank. << You don't appreciate somethin' till you don't have it, right? That's how it goes, ain't it? >> The peaceful chirrup of crickets can be heard, not quite the battleground his mind typically is. "I love to run. If you'd try it, and stick with it, you'd understand," Trey states to Jiella, with a slight smile. "There's a certain freedom in not worrying about anything but how long you're gonna make it to, this time." Regarding Orisoth, At're's brows furrow, and he starts to say, "Well, that doesn't sound to--" before B'kaiv's there, and he's snapping to, offering the greenrider a salute while his face falls into a mask of perfect neutrality.
Orisoth is somewhat less appreciative in Khazioth's way - but has his own mellow candlelight welcome for Chielyth, watching the green's landing. << Good afternoon. Are you enjoying the weather? >> The brown is - he has a warm rock to lie on and things to puzzle over - he's good for the day. For the bronze, he allows, << Perhaps. Perhaps nine times out of ten. >> A spark of amusement. Jiella's eyeing At're like his running, for all he's making it sound good, is a hard sell before she's tipped off to B'kaiv's approach; less formal, she has a salute and a smile for the greenrider. "Class ended a bit early - I think partially because it finally feels like it might be warm again. How're you?" To the other weyrling, "If I said I'd just take your word for it, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"
<< I'm Chielyth! >> in case they didn't know. And tempting, tempting... << Do you want to play with me? It was sunny today! >> in case they didn't know that, either. And while it might be too cold for people just out of the bath to run outside and play, Chielyth isn't people - she's wriggly. "Hey," her rider says again, this time with a proper salute that he promptly uses to wave the others back to ease. "Doing good," to Jiella. "You thought about what I said? And how you both been? --All of you?" Belatedly, with nods of apologies for bronze and brown. "Shells, Jiella, think he's grown a foot since I seen him last."
Khazioth is entirely too lazy after his run to want to actually do anything. Like play with Chielyth. << Khazioth, >> he reports his name however. << Maybe later? I think I may have strained a leg. >> To Orisoth, << When do we get to fly, again? >> A certain impatience underlines the bronze's green-glow-on-black-water presence: a yearning for the skies. At're glances towards the three, a neutral gaze shifting to Jiella, first- unreadable, but longer than just a glance- and back to B'kaiv, his expression not quite it's normal placidness. Something tense lies just behind grey eyes. "We're good. Sir." The words are quiet, tight-- sufficient to the task, to steal Khazioth's words.
Orisoth is more interested in all this wriggly energy confined in the green than playing; regretful, << I am content here. Though she reminds me to say thank you for sharing your wherry. >> That's already fuzzy and far-off, he's just doing as he's told. For Khazioth's impatience, << When they tell us we are strong enough. It will not be long, in the end, I think. >> Jiella begins to ease herself off the boulder, sliding down to lean on it and cross legs at the ankle - somewhat nearer to At're. Filling in the conversational holes, giving B'kaiv a nod, "I've thought about it. But I tried to hit something once and it /hurt/. I don't know that I'm meant for punching people." With a glance back to the brown, brow furrowed, "Really? It's hard to notice when you're around them all the time, I guess. We're fine. He's great."
Chielyth promptly stretches out her neck toward Khazioth before lolloping awkwardly closer, her wings flared. << Did you? Does it hurt? Do you need to go lie down? Do you want me to get Imoth? Or Khameth? >> Kai watches her for a few steps before turning uncertainly back to At're: "She says he's hurt?" He'll give the bronze an eyeing as well, though he can't exactly see anything from here. Jiella gets an absent nod and a reply even if the bulk of his attention is on the bronzerider and by proxy, Khazioth. "Yeah? Can, if you don't do it right. You kept your thumb on th' outside, yeah?" His own is held up as a demonstration model.
Khazioth's interest rises with the word 'wherry'. Oh wait. Food? Where? << Not long now isn't fast enough, >> the bronze informs his clutchsib, the rumble of far-off detonations beginning to once again mark his mindscape. To Chielyth, he's almost taken aback, drawing his head to a side and down, squinting up at her in a rather defensive position. << That would not be necessary, >> he states, tone clipped yet confident. << I'm tough. I can take it. >> Without the almost prerequisite of bitching about it? Amazing. At're, meanwhile, is having a hard time not rubbing his temples. He glances sideways as Jiella advances, so to speak, then up to B'kaiv. "He's fine. Just trying to show off," reported to the greenrider. His gaze turns, hard, to his lifemate, who silences a certain smugness that was previously radiating through the link.
Orisoth just watches Khazioth get mother-henned by the green, shifting to sit up a little more fully to take it all in. << Time will not move faster for wishing it so. >> Candlelight flickers merrily, glad he's not the focus of concerned attention. "Trying to show off by... ?" Jiella's a little fuzzy on that, given the bronze hasn't really /done/ much - she gives At're a sidelong glance, equal parts curious and concerned. Eyeing the fist B'kaiv holds up dubiously, she nods slowly, "I did, yes. It still hurt. Not sure if that's something you get used to, or..." Her own fist? A lot smaller.
<< If it hurts you should get looked at, >> Chielyth says firmly, and draws for both of them a nice crayony picture: big brown, big blue (IMOTH --> and KHAMETH --> respectively) looking at a smaller bronze's leg (KHAZIOTH -->). It's probably good that she puts in the names, because otherwise? The dragons are pretty much blobs of color. B'kaiv looks back at her and her outstretched neck fondly, but hooks his thumbs into his pockets and leaves the whole mess be. Well, except to say, "Yeah, an' if his leg's broke you're gonna be behind on lessons." At're's loss, says his tone. "You should feel it in your shoulder," he tells Jiella instead. "You wanna come hit me, an' I can show you?"
"Excuse me," At're states quietly. "I have to have a talk with my dragon. Nice talking with you, Jiella," he states, with a smile, and then a, "Sir," to B'kaiv, with another neutral salute. Then he's off to collect his wayward dragonet-- << Later, guys, >> -- and off the pair trots.
Orisoth is just a soft glow in the background, enough light to read Chielyth's picture by, though eventually, he does feel the need to point out, << I think he will be fine. >> Despite the brown's efforts, it appears Khazioth's going to get looked at or told off - one or the other - so the green will perhaps worry less. Jiella just stares at B'kaiv at the offer, really unsure how to answer that. Narrow brown eyes widened, "I-- I don't think I've hit anyone before. I don't think anyone's asked me if I want to hit them either." She collects herself enough to murmur a farewell At're's way, watching after him a moment before, "What's with you guys?"
The little green continues to watch worriedly as Khazioth gets hauled off, all the way back to the barracks and a bit longer. Only then does she blow out her breath in a huff and settle into a meatloaf, tail wrapped tightly against her side. << Kai says I shouldn't tell Khameth or Imoth or Naimath. So I won't. You're very... bright? >> Flare of sunshine. << But not like me bright. I like you, Orisoth. >> Her rider scowls after the bronzepair, muttering something probably uncomplimentary under his breath; shakes it off and amends his expression to something slightly less growly. "He's Gar, an' he's a sharding bronzerider. But it don't matter." What does matter is him settling into a wider stance, and inviting her up with a closed-finger wave. "C'mon. Ain't like you're gonna hurt me. There ain't nothing like it, neither."
The brown himself settles back down now that there's no Khazioth to amuse himself with, watching the regular bowl traffic. << If he is hurt, they will know soon. One of them will see it. And I can be. >> His light is now low, flickering in dim light, companionable. << Thank you, Chielyth. >> The blonde is still a little bemused by the whole situation, caught between questions and the total weirdness of B'kaiv trying to get her to take a swing at him. Jiella looks back towards the barracks and back again in a flurry of blonde locks, pointing out, "Being a bronzerider kind of makes him Fort, doesn't it? But that's the issue?" Dubious as he settles into the fighting stance, she furrows her brow, looking around the bowl. "I don't... This is /weird/, okay?"
Chielyth comes over to flop down beside the brown, tail flipping idly as she watches the bowl. It may not be as much fun as playing, but she'll settle to it. For now, anyway. "I ain't gonna say nothing," Kai avers with another shake of his head. "Just... for every bronzerider I met as is decent, there's two or three as ain't fit t' talk t' nobody. --An' shells, not like that." Out of his own stance and turned about, so she can see his form more clearly, though she's probably not supposed to crane her neck over her shoulder. "Elbows in, fists up. Keep everything close an' tight."
Orisoth is pleased enough to have company, though the brown has his own little tail twitch - once, twice. Jiella takes that in with a thoughtful tilt of her head, unsure what to say to that; after a moment or two, "I guess I'll see? And... Look, I really don't know..." She looks at B'kaiv demonstrating with some dismay, then just shakes her head, protesting, "This is weird - I don't get why..." The blonde uncharacteristically takes a moment to collect herself before, "I know you want to help, and I think I might need that, but I'm still trying to get used to - everything. And I can't be that person yet. You know?"
Sneak, sneak, sneak goes Chielyth's foot toward that tempting twitching, while the green so-casually pretends not to watch every movement the smaller brown makes. Kai turns about again, his scowl back and frustrated this time: if he had bangs to push out of his eyes he probably would, but plants fists on his hips instead. "No. Whaddya mean, you can't be that person? /What/ person? I ain't asking f'r you t' go out boozing an' f- uh, wenching, just... shells. You're gonna have t' do this. You said yourself you ain't gonna be no good at it. So how come you ain't...?" He can't finish the sentence, but probably means 'why aren't you leaping upon this opportunity with glad cries'?
Orisoth doesn't even seem all that conscious of the twitching, occasional and random - perhaps preface to an itch. As Kai turns, Jiella does well not to look too intimidated - her height does allow her some little poise she might not have otherwise - but she does take a half-step back, eyes still a little wide. "Um - a girl who /hits/ people? That's the person I can't be? And yes - I'll suck at it, but I don't know that I /want/ to be good at it. Why should I be? Who is seriously going to try to fight me?" She gestures to herself, head to toe - look at her! Does she inspire /violence/? "I appreciate it, but it's a long way from where I was to 'take a swing at me', and I'm not at punching yet."
Sneak, sneak, sn-whap! << Got you! >> Chielyth crows, whether she truly has or not, 'laughing' in arpeggios of twittering birds. Her own tail waves triumphantly, daring him - inviting him - to reciprocate. When Jiella steps back Kai's scowl deepens; a heartbeat later he looks almost abashed and takes his own step away. See? Harmless. "Shells - you ain't... look." He may not have her vocabulary but he's trying, working on forcing the words out anyway. "Pretty girl like you, shells /yeah/ you oughta know how t' take care of yourself. Middle, foot, nose, uh, fork," with gestures to his solar plexus, foot, nose, and groin. "Make any man back off right quick. An' you could throw me over your shoulder, if you knew how. Ain't got nothing t' do with how strong you are."
Orisoth is amused in a flare of candlelight, and though the little green's happy twittering might entice him to play, the tail twitching that continues is accompanied by a discontented rumble. Regretfully, << I think we will have to retire for now, Chielyth. But it has been nice to spend time with you. >> Like a breeze of fresh air in a dusty room. Jiella is uncertain for a moment or two, watching B'kaiv as he speaks - and she offers a slight smile. "I can take care of myself, for the most part. But you have a point - it's not as if I've been on my own before... I just didn't think of it like that. It's all so - different." With a little shudder, she looks over towards the brown apologetically. "I've got to get him in - his tail's all itchy. But - thanks. And I'll try. I'm not saying it'll take, but I'll try."
Pouting just a little, Chielyth retrieves her foot, nudges encouragingly at Orisoth's side with ink-splashed muzzle. << OK. We can play later. And maybe Khameth, will play too! >> That'd be fun, yay! B'kaiv must be catching some splash back of this, 'cause he tips half of a smile at the dragons before looking back at the weyrling. "S'different for everybody. Even them as was weyrbred. Ain't nothing like it," with a vague wave at his head. "--Trying's all you got t' do. Well, ain't /all/ you got t' do, you want a passing grade, but it's a sharding good place t' start." A pause, then, "Better get him in before he's itchy all over. Night, Jiella." Voice pitched louder, "An' night, Orisoth."
Orisoth tries to imagine Khameth playing, but that thought is fleeting as he gets up to go, making his way into the barracks in his gangly way. << Have a good day, Chielyth. >> Jiella has a mirror of B'kaiv's smile, but a moment after his - maybe not /harmless/, but maybe not totally weird and way too into punching people. "I'll see how it goes. And it's really nice of you to offer, if a little strange. Night, Kai. And Chielyth." Her backward steps are now to wave to the green, and then she turns to rush on back to the barracks to get the brown sorted.
Shells, if she'd just sharding -try- it. Maybe I'll ask G'dri if I can come show them, let him throw me around a little. It ain't like this is hard, or nothing.
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
Khazioth contemplates this for a minute. << Ellasyn-- >> Apparently At're's mother is enough of a force to the young man's mind that Khazioth can recall without compulsions her name, << She sends things. They are... different. >> The images he shares could very well be from a cheap disposable camera used in the field: gritty images, that display content without worrying about how grainy they come across. Sturdy boots, heavy grade pants in an assortment of dark browns, shirts of every color of autumn. A few belts. A peculiar item: a ring, delicate and obvious a woman's creation. << Practical. >> Khazioth approves of practical individuals. << Wait. You don't get her respect, or you just don't feel that she's respectful to anyone else? >> Khazioth, the soldier trying to puzzle it out. "Since I was--" At're's talking about running, standing in front of Jiella sitting on a boulder, their two dragons offset a bit. "--damn, must have been ten or eleven, I started chasing after the guards," he mulls aloud. "Since twelve, for sure. That's when I-- apprenticed, I suppose, in a fashion, to the guard." He smiles, briefly; "Push-ups aren't that bad." Says the man with the guns. "...wanting to-- do everything?" Inquisitively, as if At're doesn't exactly catch her meaning.
Orisoth is looking at At're like looking at him might help figure something out, near Khazioth in that dragon-conferring sort of way. << Some are practical, for her. She considers jewelry practical, though it is not quite seen as such at the moment. >> Perhaps Jiella is not all that different from other holder girls! << And she does not have much respect for her parents, at times. >> THe blonde's posed herself on that boulder attractively, looking up at the other weyrling with a slight smile, definitely flirty. With her own disbelief now, "You wanted to run? And I guess you actually wanted to be a guard?" She's not sure why someone would go picking that by her dubious tone, but she's not going to criticize, though she will note, "Not bad for /you/. For me?" A shudder before, "He... He wants to see things, experience things, figure things out. He wants to know."
Chielyth glides over from the lake, strapless and still dripping, to land a little way from the babies. << Hi! >> says she cheerfully, accompanied by the sunshine that's slowly getting more common as Spring approaches. Other than that she doesn't interrupt the boys' conversation, though she fidgets from foot to foot, tail twitch-twitch-twitching. B'kaiv's not too far behind her, and while he -does- have straps, they're over his shoulder instead of being worn. Spotting the weyrlings he heads over, dropping Jiella a nod and At're a crisper one - but no salute for either. "Hey. Got some free time, huh?"
<< Well hello there, sunshine, >> Khazioth, for all his youth, isn't without a rather appreciative flicker of swamp water at Chielyth's landing. To Orisoth, << Hmm. Well, maybe she'll grow out of it. >> His words are frank. << You don't appreciate somethin' till you don't have it, right? That's how it goes, ain't it? >> The peaceful chirrup of crickets can be heard, not quite the battleground his mind typically is. "I love to run. If you'd try it, and stick with it, you'd understand," Trey states to Jiella, with a slight smile. "There's a certain freedom in not worrying about anything but how long you're gonna make it to, this time." Regarding Orisoth, At're's brows furrow, and he starts to say, "Well, that doesn't sound to--" before B'kaiv's there, and he's snapping to, offering the greenrider a salute while his face falls into a mask of perfect neutrality.
Orisoth is somewhat less appreciative in Khazioth's way - but has his own mellow candlelight welcome for Chielyth, watching the green's landing. << Good afternoon. Are you enjoying the weather? >> The brown is - he has a warm rock to lie on and things to puzzle over - he's good for the day. For the bronze, he allows, << Perhaps. Perhaps nine times out of ten. >> A spark of amusement. Jiella's eyeing At're like his running, for all he's making it sound good, is a hard sell before she's tipped off to B'kaiv's approach; less formal, she has a salute and a smile for the greenrider. "Class ended a bit early - I think partially because it finally feels like it might be warm again. How're you?" To the other weyrling, "If I said I'd just take your word for it, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"
<< I'm Chielyth! >> in case they didn't know. And tempting, tempting... << Do you want to play with me? It was sunny today! >> in case they didn't know that, either. And while it might be too cold for people just out of the bath to run outside and play, Chielyth isn't people - she's wriggly. "Hey," her rider says again, this time with a proper salute that he promptly uses to wave the others back to ease. "Doing good," to Jiella. "You thought about what I said? And how you both been? --All of you?" Belatedly, with nods of apologies for bronze and brown. "Shells, Jiella, think he's grown a foot since I seen him last."
Khazioth is entirely too lazy after his run to want to actually do anything. Like play with Chielyth. << Khazioth, >> he reports his name however. << Maybe later? I think I may have strained a leg. >> To Orisoth, << When do we get to fly, again? >> A certain impatience underlines the bronze's green-glow-on-black-water presence: a yearning for the skies. At're glances towards the three, a neutral gaze shifting to Jiella, first- unreadable, but longer than just a glance- and back to B'kaiv, his expression not quite it's normal placidness. Something tense lies just behind grey eyes. "We're good. Sir." The words are quiet, tight-- sufficient to the task, to steal Khazioth's words.
Orisoth is more interested in all this wriggly energy confined in the green than playing; regretful, << I am content here. Though she reminds me to say thank you for sharing your wherry. >> That's already fuzzy and far-off, he's just doing as he's told. For Khazioth's impatience, << When they tell us we are strong enough. It will not be long, in the end, I think. >> Jiella begins to ease herself off the boulder, sliding down to lean on it and cross legs at the ankle - somewhat nearer to At're. Filling in the conversational holes, giving B'kaiv a nod, "I've thought about it. But I tried to hit something once and it /hurt/. I don't know that I'm meant for punching people." With a glance back to the brown, brow furrowed, "Really? It's hard to notice when you're around them all the time, I guess. We're fine. He's great."
Chielyth promptly stretches out her neck toward Khazioth before lolloping awkwardly closer, her wings flared. << Did you? Does it hurt? Do you need to go lie down? Do you want me to get Imoth? Or Khameth? >> Kai watches her for a few steps before turning uncertainly back to At're: "She says he's hurt?" He'll give the bronze an eyeing as well, though he can't exactly see anything from here. Jiella gets an absent nod and a reply even if the bulk of his attention is on the bronzerider and by proxy, Khazioth. "Yeah? Can, if you don't do it right. You kept your thumb on th' outside, yeah?" His own is held up as a demonstration model.
Khazioth's interest rises with the word 'wherry'. Oh wait. Food? Where? << Not long now isn't fast enough, >> the bronze informs his clutchsib, the rumble of far-off detonations beginning to once again mark his mindscape. To Chielyth, he's almost taken aback, drawing his head to a side and down, squinting up at her in a rather defensive position. << That would not be necessary, >> he states, tone clipped yet confident. << I'm tough. I can take it. >> Without the almost prerequisite of bitching about it? Amazing. At're, meanwhile, is having a hard time not rubbing his temples. He glances sideways as Jiella advances, so to speak, then up to B'kaiv. "He's fine. Just trying to show off," reported to the greenrider. His gaze turns, hard, to his lifemate, who silences a certain smugness that was previously radiating through the link.
Orisoth just watches Khazioth get mother-henned by the green, shifting to sit up a little more fully to take it all in. << Time will not move faster for wishing it so. >> Candlelight flickers merrily, glad he's not the focus of concerned attention. "Trying to show off by... ?" Jiella's a little fuzzy on that, given the bronze hasn't really /done/ much - she gives At're a sidelong glance, equal parts curious and concerned. Eyeing the fist B'kaiv holds up dubiously, she nods slowly, "I did, yes. It still hurt. Not sure if that's something you get used to, or..." Her own fist? A lot smaller.
<< If it hurts you should get looked at, >> Chielyth says firmly, and draws for both of them a nice crayony picture: big brown, big blue (IMOTH --> and KHAMETH --> respectively) looking at a smaller bronze's leg (KHAZIOTH -->). It's probably good that she puts in the names, because otherwise? The dragons are pretty much blobs of color. B'kaiv looks back at her and her outstretched neck fondly, but hooks his thumbs into his pockets and leaves the whole mess be. Well, except to say, "Yeah, an' if his leg's broke you're gonna be behind on lessons." At're's loss, says his tone. "You should feel it in your shoulder," he tells Jiella instead. "You wanna come hit me, an' I can show you?"
"Excuse me," At're states quietly. "I have to have a talk with my dragon. Nice talking with you, Jiella," he states, with a smile, and then a, "Sir," to B'kaiv, with another neutral salute. Then he's off to collect his wayward dragonet-- << Later, guys, >> -- and off the pair trots.
Orisoth is just a soft glow in the background, enough light to read Chielyth's picture by, though eventually, he does feel the need to point out, << I think he will be fine. >> Despite the brown's efforts, it appears Khazioth's going to get looked at or told off - one or the other - so the green will perhaps worry less. Jiella just stares at B'kaiv at the offer, really unsure how to answer that. Narrow brown eyes widened, "I-- I don't think I've hit anyone before. I don't think anyone's asked me if I want to hit them either." She collects herself enough to murmur a farewell At're's way, watching after him a moment before, "What's with you guys?"
The little green continues to watch worriedly as Khazioth gets hauled off, all the way back to the barracks and a bit longer. Only then does she blow out her breath in a huff and settle into a meatloaf, tail wrapped tightly against her side. << Kai says I shouldn't tell Khameth or Imoth or Naimath. So I won't. You're very... bright? >> Flare of sunshine. << But not like me bright. I like you, Orisoth. >> Her rider scowls after the bronzepair, muttering something probably uncomplimentary under his breath; shakes it off and amends his expression to something slightly less growly. "He's Gar, an' he's a sharding bronzerider. But it don't matter." What does matter is him settling into a wider stance, and inviting her up with a closed-finger wave. "C'mon. Ain't like you're gonna hurt me. There ain't nothing like it, neither."
The brown himself settles back down now that there's no Khazioth to amuse himself with, watching the regular bowl traffic. << If he is hurt, they will know soon. One of them will see it. And I can be. >> His light is now low, flickering in dim light, companionable. << Thank you, Chielyth. >> The blonde is still a little bemused by the whole situation, caught between questions and the total weirdness of B'kaiv trying to get her to take a swing at him. Jiella looks back towards the barracks and back again in a flurry of blonde locks, pointing out, "Being a bronzerider kind of makes him Fort, doesn't it? But that's the issue?" Dubious as he settles into the fighting stance, she furrows her brow, looking around the bowl. "I don't... This is /weird/, okay?"
Chielyth comes over to flop down beside the brown, tail flipping idly as she watches the bowl. It may not be as much fun as playing, but she'll settle to it. For now, anyway. "I ain't gonna say nothing," Kai avers with another shake of his head. "Just... for every bronzerider I met as is decent, there's two or three as ain't fit t' talk t' nobody. --An' shells, not like that." Out of his own stance and turned about, so she can see his form more clearly, though she's probably not supposed to crane her neck over her shoulder. "Elbows in, fists up. Keep everything close an' tight."
Orisoth is pleased enough to have company, though the brown has his own little tail twitch - once, twice. Jiella takes that in with a thoughtful tilt of her head, unsure what to say to that; after a moment or two, "I guess I'll see? And... Look, I really don't know..." She looks at B'kaiv demonstrating with some dismay, then just shakes her head, protesting, "This is weird - I don't get why..." The blonde uncharacteristically takes a moment to collect herself before, "I know you want to help, and I think I might need that, but I'm still trying to get used to - everything. And I can't be that person yet. You know?"
Sneak, sneak, sneak goes Chielyth's foot toward that tempting twitching, while the green so-casually pretends not to watch every movement the smaller brown makes. Kai turns about again, his scowl back and frustrated this time: if he had bangs to push out of his eyes he probably would, but plants fists on his hips instead. "No. Whaddya mean, you can't be that person? /What/ person? I ain't asking f'r you t' go out boozing an' f- uh, wenching, just... shells. You're gonna have t' do this. You said yourself you ain't gonna be no good at it. So how come you ain't...?" He can't finish the sentence, but probably means 'why aren't you leaping upon this opportunity with glad cries'?
Orisoth doesn't even seem all that conscious of the twitching, occasional and random - perhaps preface to an itch. As Kai turns, Jiella does well not to look too intimidated - her height does allow her some little poise she might not have otherwise - but she does take a half-step back, eyes still a little wide. "Um - a girl who /hits/ people? That's the person I can't be? And yes - I'll suck at it, but I don't know that I /want/ to be good at it. Why should I be? Who is seriously going to try to fight me?" She gestures to herself, head to toe - look at her! Does she inspire /violence/? "I appreciate it, but it's a long way from where I was to 'take a swing at me', and I'm not at punching yet."
Sneak, sneak, sn-whap! << Got you! >> Chielyth crows, whether she truly has or not, 'laughing' in arpeggios of twittering birds. Her own tail waves triumphantly, daring him - inviting him - to reciprocate. When Jiella steps back Kai's scowl deepens; a heartbeat later he looks almost abashed and takes his own step away. See? Harmless. "Shells - you ain't... look." He may not have her vocabulary but he's trying, working on forcing the words out anyway. "Pretty girl like you, shells /yeah/ you oughta know how t' take care of yourself. Middle, foot, nose, uh, fork," with gestures to his solar plexus, foot, nose, and groin. "Make any man back off right quick. An' you could throw me over your shoulder, if you knew how. Ain't got nothing t' do with how strong you are."
Orisoth is amused in a flare of candlelight, and though the little green's happy twittering might entice him to play, the tail twitching that continues is accompanied by a discontented rumble. Regretfully, << I think we will have to retire for now, Chielyth. But it has been nice to spend time with you. >> Like a breeze of fresh air in a dusty room. Jiella is uncertain for a moment or two, watching B'kaiv as he speaks - and she offers a slight smile. "I can take care of myself, for the most part. But you have a point - it's not as if I've been on my own before... I just didn't think of it like that. It's all so - different." With a little shudder, she looks over towards the brown apologetically. "I've got to get him in - his tail's all itchy. But - thanks. And I'll try. I'm not saying it'll take, but I'll try."
Pouting just a little, Chielyth retrieves her foot, nudges encouragingly at Orisoth's side with ink-splashed muzzle. << OK. We can play later. And maybe Khameth, will play too! >> That'd be fun, yay! B'kaiv must be catching some splash back of this, 'cause he tips half of a smile at the dragons before looking back at the weyrling. "S'different for everybody. Even them as was weyrbred. Ain't nothing like it," with a vague wave at his head. "--Trying's all you got t' do. Well, ain't /all/ you got t' do, you want a passing grade, but it's a sharding good place t' start." A pause, then, "Better get him in before he's itchy all over. Night, Jiella." Voice pitched louder, "An' night, Orisoth."
Orisoth tries to imagine Khameth playing, but that thought is fleeting as he gets up to go, making his way into the barracks in his gangly way. << Have a good day, Chielyth. >> Jiella has a mirror of B'kaiv's smile, but a moment after his - maybe not /harmless/, but maybe not totally weird and way too into punching people. "I'll see how it goes. And it's really nice of you to offer, if a little strange. Night, Kai. And Chielyth." Her backward steps are now to wave to the green, and then she turns to rush on back to the barracks to get the brown sorted.
Shells, if she'd just sharding -try- it. Maybe I'll ask G'dri if I can come show them, let him throw me around a little. It ain't like this is hard, or nothing.