[Log] An interruption of studies
Who: Javeri, Chadamalith, P'traul, Yjimeth
What: It's wingleader-imposed exile for Javeri, and dragon-imposed exile for P'traul. The dragons discuss flights, and so do their people. Javeri has a proposal of sorts for Paul, and he is awkward. (As usual). Then: lunch!
Where: Star Stones, Ista Weyr
They are supposed to be shadowing Tempest today. That was the assignment anyway and early in the morning Chadamalith and Javeri reported like they were supposed to. But my midmorning it was all over. Chadamalith was not interested in doing drills. He had no use for what they were learning. And his constant attempts to change things only left the wingleader annoyed. Despite his rider's attempts to settle him down he would not do so. With a scathing cutting down the pair were sent to duty on the Star Stones. Completely unbothered on the outside Chadamalith lazily glides over the bowl despite the fact he is supposed to be grounded. Javeri's gotten mostly over being upset and any latent redness to her eyes is likely just because of the wind. More dejected than her blue she sits with her elbows on her knees and watches the blue who's only asking for trouble by not exactly obeying what they were told to do.
P'traul, on the other hand, doesn't appear to even know what he duty was, is, or would be: instead, he's just sort of dazedly perched atop Yjimeth while the brown drops precisely down from the sky and crouches. Nothing outwardly leaks from the pair, although the sharp shake the dragon gives in response to Paul's hesitant pat on his shoulder maybe would indicate there's something going on, and once he's seen his rider safely delivered atop the Star Stones, Yjimeth launches off away without a backwards glance. P'traul sighs, running a hand through his hair, before he gets a proper look around. "Oh, Javeri. Hi." He offers a wan, shaky sort of smile to her as Yjimeth angles his wings down to meet his clutchbrother in the air, swooping under him. "Um. How's it going? You in exile, too?"
Eyes busy on Chadamalith it gives Javeri an excuse for missing the brown's entrance. She pulls her eyes away from the sky and smiles at P'traul. "Oh, umm. Yea, we were shadowing Tempest. You been with them yet? Well, Wingleader Norza didn't appreciate Chadamalith's attempts to make her drills better. So we were sent here and she plans on talking to the weyrlingstaff about how horrid we are." There's a slight sigh the wind mostly carries away after those words, but she shakes her head to clear her mind. "What'd you do? Or did /he/ exile you?" In the air the blue greets the brown by spiraling down and then up to come behind and on top of the brown once more. Chadamalith sends a delighted greeting that's all wind and citrus with no words. He's quite happy to not be drilling now.
"Tempest, Tempest -- oh, yeah. Norza. Yjimeth was on one of his good days when we were with them, but I think we're due up again next rotation. Oh, shards." P'traul cringes in sympathy, setting himself up against the eye rock after a tenuous push with two fingers against it, as though to be sure it wasn't going to topple over from his weight. "I'm sure it'll come out in the wash. The weyrlingstaff, uh. Know how Chadamalith's like. And at least maybe this way you can narrow it down to which wing you'll be tagged into, eh?" Always look on the bright side, right? "By, like, who can put up with him." Then Paul looks a bit crestfallen. "Um. Well. Yeah, I'm stuck up here until I apologize. I 'interrupted his studies'. Except," and here he just sounds downright pathetic, "it was /Nielath/ he was studying and she's so close to going up it's just so /distracting/ and I was trying to write my /report/ and --" he huffs into his cheeks. "Yeah. So. Exile until further notice." He waves a hand over the ledge, where Yjimeth responds in kind, his wings catching an updraft to send him level with the blue as vibrant, coloured puffs of steam go up in mild excitement and disappear again into his mind. The sun is warm. The day is good.
"He really was getting better!" Javeri says quickly as she lets out a louder sigh. "But I think he really does not like Oreilleth. I do not think there's a chance at all we'll wind up in Tempest after today." Shaking her head she grins and gestures up overhead. "But he's doing better now. I think it was just a bad day. He still has those restless days and being in formation was just too much. I know we probably should be better about that and-" And then the rest of what he says sinks in and she turns to look at him all sympathy. "Oh. Shells, P'traul. I am so sorry. It's hard the first time, huh?" She sounds like the first time is over and done for her. "Chadamalith's been chasing for months now. He hasn't won yet. The first time was...it caught me by surprise. I got all banged up because I couldn't even walk right to the guest weyr and then he got knocked out of the way by some brown and went into a tailspin and we were locked so close I threw up." Her grin is sheepish, embarrassed, but maybe she thinks it will help? "And it was one of the ones from the earlier weyrling class. Gia? Anyway...yea. Not only was he an early bloomer, but he also picked a green with a female rider. It's hard. I guess he kind of digs in, huh? Chadamalith gets more distant when he's real interested and then all at once I'm hit with this...you know." Under her tan she blushes and then looks away to spot where the blue is at. He's overhead, spiraling around and then extending his wings to catch an updraft. The scent of citron is overpowering in the breezy thoughts he shares with his clutchmate. It is indeed a good day for flying.
P'traul nods just as quickly, earnestly; he's sympathizing, at least, and really, Chadamalith /is/ getting better! "So's Yjimeth. I guess. A little. Same here: good days and bad days, though, but he," Yjimeth "doesn't get restless, just -- picky. And decides he knows better. And he gets so headstrong, telling the wingleader he knows best and wouldn't it be better if they did /this/ or /that/, and, oh, he's just a sharding bonehead dragon!" This last is shouted much louder than the rest, over the ledge and clearly directed to the passive brown overhead. The holderbred boy stomps a foot hard against the stone underfoot, too, for emphasis, but then sags harder back against his resting place and offers an ineffective smile across to Javeri. "Months, really? And it's like this is the first time that he's been interested," Paul says, a bit defensively, "but only he hasn't even bothered /trying/ yet, chasing I mean, but even his interest is just so -- so invasive and distracting." That expression falls suddenly following Javeri's description, replaced instead with one of horror, perhaps dismay. "Oh -- oh. That sounds awful. Is it any easier, now?" For her, for him. In Yjimeth's mind, the smell of citron dissipates on contact with those puffs of smoke, emitting from bronze-glistening smokestacks, although he offers in return a drifting cloud of sensations and scents for Chadamalith's inspection. Glistening oils, the rumble of cogs, the clack of metal feet. Every day is good for flying, is it not?
Javeri turns a smile on her fellow weyrling and says, "I know it's horrid and all, but I guess I'm glad you can kind of understand where I'm coming from. I don't wish you the headaches, but it's hard to really explain to people who don't get it, you know?" Shaking her head she looks up overhead to watch Chadamalith do another sudden downward spiral. Looking back at P'traul she laughs before telling him, "Shards, P'traul, I wish he had not been interested before this. But it does get easier yea. I can tell most of the time when he's withdrawing for a green and when he's just doing it to think. It gets easier. Just...you know how they warn you about losing and finding something to do? None of their ideas might work for you. When he loses I want to punch things. So I go off by myself and usually wind up crying for half an hour before we settle down." Eyes roll as she brushes braids off her face after a gust of wind thoughtfully rearranges. "I guess if you lose and want to, you know, work it off you can come see me. I don't mind. We're wingmates and all, yea?" The blue does not gobble up those thoughts shared with him, but he does take them and carefully arrange them in his mind before turning them upside down and around. << You watch Nielath >> Chadamalith says around a dizzying whirl of images of greens in flight. A fact, not a question, and one he doesn't seem particularly interested in. Just an observation.
"Yeeeeaah," Paul draws out slowly, twitching his head into a shake, looking thoughtfully at Javeri for a long moment. He might even laugh, even if it's a bit of a breathy one, and repeat 'early bloomer' though if he does it's in a low voice and quiet enough. "And even... I mean, the weyrlingmasters are awesome and all, but they've been proper dragonriders for how long now? That sort of thing must get hazy afetr a while, so while their advice is useful... Right. Sometimes it's not so applicable. To us. T'mic told me the other day to do a lap around the bowl when Yjimeth gets too -- you know -- but I'm not going to drop everything I'm doing and put on my jogging pants just because he's getting a little randy." Beat. "Yjimeth, I mean, not T'mic. Sorry. I'm just -- ranting. Frustrated. He's frustrating. It's nice to have a sympathetic ear, though." His smile in response is looser, more open though accompanied by a bit of a blush when he answers her, ah, proposition with, "Right. Wingmates and all. I'll, um, keep it in mind, Veri, thanks. And, uh. You too, I guess. If you promise you won't punch me or anything." Now he squints upward, shading his eyes against the sun, while Yjimeth pauses and beats his wings against the hair, remaining in place for a long time; his mind occupies itself with those images Chadamalith sends, although it's ever-clinical, analytic as he processes each and shuffles them, like sheaves of paper into the proper drawer. << I do. I did. He, >> /he/, P'traul, Yjimeth's, << said I must not, but Nielath is... pleasing. To observe. To study. >> This, accompanied by an experimental tendril sent along the line between them to the blue: does not Chadamalith find her pleasing as well?
"Do you have a hobby?" Javeri asks curiously as she gives her fellow weyrling a look. "When he gets a little too interested it helps to work with my clay." Shoulders shrug as she looks up at the sky. "Don't have to. I mean come see me. I'm just saying I won't mind not that I'm desperate to get you into bed. And thanks for the return offer, but I don't do that. Won't sleep with someone if my mind's on someone else." So few rules about that sort of thing for a holdergirl. Wait, that could be her only rule about it. "But yea. When Paddy gave me the talk it was hard to really...he's so not bothered by it now, you know? And I was freaking out waiting for it to happen. It is kind of fun in its own way. You really get to see what they see and know...it's just we're closer then." Eyes turning down the bluerider mumbles, "That's all." A heavy sigh escapes before she looks over with a grin. "Or read a book? If there's some topic he's interested in you can try reading a book and direct his head to those same words as you see? I wish I had better advice." Because she's been where he has and knows what it is like. << She is pleasing >> Chadamalith agrees and shares his own view of Nielath all wings and tail and pretty hide. << She will be fun to fly with. Will you chase her then? >> The blue is only curious, cautiously so, like he is not sure how the brown would take too much interest on his part in a green he finds pleasing. << Do you talk to her? >>
"Not really," the brownriding weyrling admits, kicking a toe at the hard stone underfoot. "Everyone keeps telling me to get one, but nothing really jumps out to me as -- /me/. But I bet it really would help. Reading's all right, works well enough until I've run out of words to read and my mind wanders back to other things. I hadn't've thought of trying to redirect /him/ with reading though," and P'traul looks up with an expression of faint surprise and gratification to his fellow weyrling, "and that might work quite well. I'll give it a shot, next time." He even chuckles softly for her shrug and explanation, nods once for his understanding. "Ah... well. All right. Just thought I'd... return the favour, as it is." Now that wry smile returns again. "I suppose even now it's nice enough, when he gets in his moods, when I've the time for it. And when I'm alone, rather than out shadowing a wing or on some delivery run. I guess I'm... looking forward to it?" Paul's brow crinkles upward. "Finally really /knowing/ what it's like. If I'm to be perfectly honest, all the waiting and dalling about is the worst part of it all. Like, I wish he would just go! Do something about it! Rather then just sit and watch and be silent." He sends Javeri a hopeful, half-embarassed look. "You know?" Yjimeth, meanwhile, lofts gently higher, skipping from draft to draft, thoughtfully quiet. Suddenly the images of Nielath are all reflected at once: in polished bronze, in mirrors, in glinting silver. No possessiveness here, only a shared, mutual interest between mature minds. Right? << I may chase, >> Yjimeth murmurs slowly. << I may watch. Both are equally intruiging. I do not talk to her. >> This last comes out a bit more stilted. << I am not -- easy. With words. Or with this thing, flattery. >> Such a foreign concept!
"Hobbies are hard," Javeri admits with a nod. "I was always told to find one because they said being a potter meant working with clay could not be a hobby. But thankfully now that's not the case. I /like/ working with clay is all. So why shouldn't I do it?" There's a smile to the brownrider then as she says, "I'm happy to help. I feel like these days all I do is run to someone for help. Kind of nice to feel all adult-like and such instead of a scared kid." Then there's knowing and not knowing and for that he gets a rapid succession of head nods. "Shards! I know that feeling. I was so relieved when it was over the first time just because it was over. I don't quite look forward to them yet, but there's not that knot in my stomach there used to be. But see? I don't know about the problems beforehand like that. Like I said he directs all his focus on the green and sort of cuts me out and then wham!" She claps her hands together loudly and grins. "Then after a whole day or so of cutting me off what he's feeling for her it just hits me all in a rush and I can't hardly tell myself apart anymore." Overhead Chadamalith is not so interested in dips and dives. He's enjoying slow circles and even tries to mostly stay close to the Star Stones since he's supposed to be grounded there. An amused melody trickles from blue to brown as he tells his clutchsib << You are, I think incorrect in that assessment. It is much more intriguing to chase than to watch. To feel the wind under your wings with purpose. To see that glorious hide before you and know it might be yours. To wonder, Yjimeth, is all fine, but to know the truth of a thing you must experience it. >> He shares then the peach again to prove his point. Only when he had tasted it did he know the truth.
P'traul pulls a bit of a face at that, 'hard', but looks across at Javeri anyway with a slight smile. "That's sort of funny. You were supposed to be a potter, and find another hobby, but now you're a dragonrider, and pottery /is/ your hobby." Funny to him, at least, because Paul laughs quietly at the thought and repeats: "Why shouldn't you? You like it, after all, and we should all do what we like." Then he's quiet again while Javeri talks, and he indicates his own agreement with a sharp nod. "Well. Yes, I do suppose I am grateful for that. That would be an awful jolt, I can't imagine. With Yjimeth it's like a ... slow build-up. Kind of the opposite, really. And," he tacks on, with an ingenuous sort of grin at the bluerider once he recovers from the startlement at her sudden clap, "grateful for the advice. Or at least a willing ear. Sometimes all the weyrlingstaff in the world can't reassure you that it's perfectly normal to fret. At least knowing someone else is fretting too, or /was/ fretting even, is kind of... reassuring." Yjimeth has no such boundaries to stay within, and instead he angles his wings away so that he swoops away and down. << Perhaps. Yet I would much prefer to be patient and be successful in my first rather than make a novice error which may be avoided with more careful observation. >> But Chadamalith's words, especially 'purpose' resound with the brown, echoing back and forth until they are all drowned out until the passive ticking of machinery. Yjimeth is unfazed. << I do not wonder. I theorize. I speculate. Experimentation follows with time. It will be soon, however, I think. I would like to experience this thing first-hand. >> Or wing, as it is.
"The idea," Javeri explains as she likely had it explained to her, "Is to find something to take your mind off your work. To help you relax. And I couldn't very well tell my father that I had a way to relax. Because I was not supposed to be picking sailors up at the Sandbar and docks." And yet she was anyway. The floozy! "I guess...I don't know. Take advantage of this time you know? Not knowing what's going on and there's a certain thrill to waiting for the chase. Turn it into anticipation instead of anxiety. I wish I had. I was just so nervous. Now I sound like I'm giving advice from one of the assistants, huh?" The bluerider laughs and rolls her eyes. Chadamalith circles low, slowly, head down to watch the ground. Since he doesn't really remember his first he's got no offense to take at the brown's words. << You wonder >> he tells back to the larger dragon with more amusement than before. It echoes in the faint blue of his mind and around the imagines of flying alone and in the company of others all with the same purpose. << You do not understand >> Chadamalith goes on with a shake of his head even though the brown won't see it. He likes the head shake thing he learned from his rider and delights in getting to use it. << She is well formed. She will fly well. We shall fly well after her. >> He does not include the brown in that we rather there's a reference however slight to his rider. << She will be mine. >> Even if he had no interest in her before now he finds the idea intriguing.
"Relax, right. Pottery's probaby not for me, in that case," P'traul aims across to Javeri, though with a tone that proves he's got no offense intended, "since it's just much too messy for me. Slimy between the fingers." He wiggles his fingers at her with a bright laugh. "I used to play guitar, back before Yjimeth. Maybe I'll see if I can't get mine sent out from Black Crag. That's distracting, it's pleasant, it's -- relaxing. Sounds like a hobby to me, eh?" Not /quite/ like Javeri's hobby, but hanging out at the docks isn't really down P'traul's alley anyway. He blinks thoughtfully, once, twice, and finally acknowledges her suggestion with a slow inclination of his head. "Mmm. Anticipation rather than anxiety, yes. I suppose I could give it a shot. Not that it would be that diffcult; it's just a matter of giving over a little more to... him. Rather than me. Working with him rather than pulling away from it. Or something like that." He gives himself a good shake all over. << Naturally I do not understand, >> Yjimeth replies, placidly, with a dry cough that might be laughter of his own. << I do not have the same experience as you. >> Ever imperturbable, his mind turns to curiosity in the form of metal-legged spiders skittering, prodding at the blue's mind: if Chadamalith is so confident, if he is so sure, how many greens has /he/ won, then? It is serene interest, nothing more, nothing else, and Yjimeth likely means no offense with the probing thought, but his response to his clutchmate's confidence is only a dry, distant, << perhaps. Or another's. >> Yjimeth's, maybe?
"Pottery's not for everyone," Javeri agrees with a nod of her head and a laugh. No offense taken at all. "I love the messy part. Clay all over and making something so you can look later and remember the fun of making it. Also it can earn a few spare marks." She tilts her head and then nods. "Guitar would be good. I have no talent for music really, but I imagine if you do it's real relaxing." There comes an impish grin then to her features as Javeri says, "And girls like guys who play guitar. Wouldn't hurt to come to the Sandbar some night and see. Actually we should go get a drink sometime anyway. I feel like with us all shadowing and everything we're not seeing each other so much. While in some cases that's good I'd hate for us all to lose touch. Anyway I do hope at least some of my advice helps. Then I won't feel so bad about being banished up here." Chadamalith looks up then and angles his wings to gain height. An updraft makes it easy with only a few beats of his wings to get there. << We cannot have the same experiences for then we would be the same people. And- >> The blue's words are cut off suddenly and then he comes back with a mental sigh. << Oreilleth says I must land. He says I was not supposed to fly. I asked him if I was not supposed to fly why I had wings. He did not seem to know. >> Future flights and talking of such must be put on hold it seems.
"'Course you do, you wouldn't be Javeri if you didn't like the messy part." P'traul even dares a bold wink for the blueriding weyrling, just a playful show of course before he's pushing himself off from the eye rock and brushing at the backside of his trousers. "I don't imagine I was terribly good at it, but it was nice enough. And with practise, maybe, I can," he waves dramatically, "unveil my talent to the public at large! I'll be irresistable! Women will flock to me when I make my appearances!" Okay, maybe not. But he laughs anyway, begins to pick his way to the steep, dark stairs leading back down, although turned towards Javeri so he can answer enthusiastically, "Oh, sure! I mean, with our own weyrs and all, it's not like we're living on top of each other like we used to, but there's such a thing as /too/ much distance, too. Of course, really, we're only a thought away, dragons willing to co-operate. And don't worry. It was a useful banishing. To me, at least. You're a great help, Veri." He finally acknowledges his sidling attempt at a depature with a tilt of his head, "It's nearing lunch. I bet they wouldn't've wanted you to /starve/ up here, would they? Join me?" One elbow is offered, gallantly, and he flourishes the other hand to the stairs. "Since this exile is about as effective as a room with a locked door and an open window." Noting his lifemate trying to make an escape from his dragon-imposed prison, Yjimeth stutters an irritated bugle and drops a 'length or two in the air, wiggling his wings, though Chadamalith is not forgotten. << Hmm. Perhaps Oreilleth is not very wise. >> A moment of thought. << Yet conceivably he intended it only temporarily. Not intended to fly /now/. Intended to fly /later/. As a punishment of some sort. >> Yjimeth snorts softly. << It is se-sem-->> his mind disappears, retreating into P'traul's, and he returns triumphantly with the word he sought, << semantics. But the breeze is stiff. >> A non-sequitur at its best. << I will follow it to where it may go. Farewell, Chadamalith. >> And with that, the brown drifts higher and further away.
"I suppose I'll be in trouble no matter what," Javeri says with a laugh as she stands up. The elbow will be taken and despite getting in trouble later she still leaves now. Lunchtime after all. Overhead Chadamalith circles down to land where his rider was after she leaves. That way they can technically still be there.
What: It's wingleader-imposed exile for Javeri, and dragon-imposed exile for P'traul. The dragons discuss flights, and so do their people. Javeri has a proposal of sorts for Paul, and he is awkward. (As usual). Then: lunch!
Where: Star Stones, Ista Weyr
They are supposed to be shadowing Tempest today. That was the assignment anyway and early in the morning Chadamalith and Javeri reported like they were supposed to. But my midmorning it was all over. Chadamalith was not interested in doing drills. He had no use for what they were learning. And his constant attempts to change things only left the wingleader annoyed. Despite his rider's attempts to settle him down he would not do so. With a scathing cutting down the pair were sent to duty on the Star Stones. Completely unbothered on the outside Chadamalith lazily glides over the bowl despite the fact he is supposed to be grounded. Javeri's gotten mostly over being upset and any latent redness to her eyes is likely just because of the wind. More dejected than her blue she sits with her elbows on her knees and watches the blue who's only asking for trouble by not exactly obeying what they were told to do.
P'traul, on the other hand, doesn't appear to even know what he duty was, is, or would be: instead, he's just sort of dazedly perched atop Yjimeth while the brown drops precisely down from the sky and crouches. Nothing outwardly leaks from the pair, although the sharp shake the dragon gives in response to Paul's hesitant pat on his shoulder maybe would indicate there's something going on, and once he's seen his rider safely delivered atop the Star Stones, Yjimeth launches off away without a backwards glance. P'traul sighs, running a hand through his hair, before he gets a proper look around. "Oh, Javeri. Hi." He offers a wan, shaky sort of smile to her as Yjimeth angles his wings down to meet his clutchbrother in the air, swooping under him. "Um. How's it going? You in exile, too?"
Eyes busy on Chadamalith it gives Javeri an excuse for missing the brown's entrance. She pulls her eyes away from the sky and smiles at P'traul. "Oh, umm. Yea, we were shadowing Tempest. You been with them yet? Well, Wingleader Norza didn't appreciate Chadamalith's attempts to make her drills better. So we were sent here and she plans on talking to the weyrlingstaff about how horrid we are." There's a slight sigh the wind mostly carries away after those words, but she shakes her head to clear her mind. "What'd you do? Or did /he/ exile you?" In the air the blue greets the brown by spiraling down and then up to come behind and on top of the brown once more. Chadamalith sends a delighted greeting that's all wind and citrus with no words. He's quite happy to not be drilling now.
"Tempest, Tempest -- oh, yeah. Norza. Yjimeth was on one of his good days when we were with them, but I think we're due up again next rotation. Oh, shards." P'traul cringes in sympathy, setting himself up against the eye rock after a tenuous push with two fingers against it, as though to be sure it wasn't going to topple over from his weight. "I'm sure it'll come out in the wash. The weyrlingstaff, uh. Know how Chadamalith's like. And at least maybe this way you can narrow it down to which wing you'll be tagged into, eh?" Always look on the bright side, right? "By, like, who can put up with him." Then Paul looks a bit crestfallen. "Um. Well. Yeah, I'm stuck up here until I apologize. I 'interrupted his studies'. Except," and here he just sounds downright pathetic, "it was /Nielath/ he was studying and she's so close to going up it's just so /distracting/ and I was trying to write my /report/ and --" he huffs into his cheeks. "Yeah. So. Exile until further notice." He waves a hand over the ledge, where Yjimeth responds in kind, his wings catching an updraft to send him level with the blue as vibrant, coloured puffs of steam go up in mild excitement and disappear again into his mind. The sun is warm. The day is good.
"He really was getting better!" Javeri says quickly as she lets out a louder sigh. "But I think he really does not like Oreilleth. I do not think there's a chance at all we'll wind up in Tempest after today." Shaking her head she grins and gestures up overhead. "But he's doing better now. I think it was just a bad day. He still has those restless days and being in formation was just too much. I know we probably should be better about that and-" And then the rest of what he says sinks in and she turns to look at him all sympathy. "Oh. Shells, P'traul. I am so sorry. It's hard the first time, huh?" She sounds like the first time is over and done for her. "Chadamalith's been chasing for months now. He hasn't won yet. The first time was...it caught me by surprise. I got all banged up because I couldn't even walk right to the guest weyr and then he got knocked out of the way by some brown and went into a tailspin and we were locked so close I threw up." Her grin is sheepish, embarrassed, but maybe she thinks it will help? "And it was one of the ones from the earlier weyrling class. Gia? Anyway...yea. Not only was he an early bloomer, but he also picked a green with a female rider. It's hard. I guess he kind of digs in, huh? Chadamalith gets more distant when he's real interested and then all at once I'm hit with this...you know." Under her tan she blushes and then looks away to spot where the blue is at. He's overhead, spiraling around and then extending his wings to catch an updraft. The scent of citron is overpowering in the breezy thoughts he shares with his clutchmate. It is indeed a good day for flying.
P'traul nods just as quickly, earnestly; he's sympathizing, at least, and really, Chadamalith /is/ getting better! "So's Yjimeth. I guess. A little. Same here: good days and bad days, though, but he," Yjimeth "doesn't get restless, just -- picky. And decides he knows better. And he gets so headstrong, telling the wingleader he knows best and wouldn't it be better if they did /this/ or /that/, and, oh, he's just a sharding bonehead dragon!" This last is shouted much louder than the rest, over the ledge and clearly directed to the passive brown overhead. The holderbred boy stomps a foot hard against the stone underfoot, too, for emphasis, but then sags harder back against his resting place and offers an ineffective smile across to Javeri. "Months, really? And it's like this is the first time that he's been interested," Paul says, a bit defensively, "but only he hasn't even bothered /trying/ yet, chasing I mean, but even his interest is just so -- so invasive and distracting." That expression falls suddenly following Javeri's description, replaced instead with one of horror, perhaps dismay. "Oh -- oh. That sounds awful. Is it any easier, now?" For her, for him. In Yjimeth's mind, the smell of citron dissipates on contact with those puffs of smoke, emitting from bronze-glistening smokestacks, although he offers in return a drifting cloud of sensations and scents for Chadamalith's inspection. Glistening oils, the rumble of cogs, the clack of metal feet. Every day is good for flying, is it not?
Javeri turns a smile on her fellow weyrling and says, "I know it's horrid and all, but I guess I'm glad you can kind of understand where I'm coming from. I don't wish you the headaches, but it's hard to really explain to people who don't get it, you know?" Shaking her head she looks up overhead to watch Chadamalith do another sudden downward spiral. Looking back at P'traul she laughs before telling him, "Shards, P'traul, I wish he had not been interested before this. But it does get easier yea. I can tell most of the time when he's withdrawing for a green and when he's just doing it to think. It gets easier. Just...you know how they warn you about losing and finding something to do? None of their ideas might work for you. When he loses I want to punch things. So I go off by myself and usually wind up crying for half an hour before we settle down." Eyes roll as she brushes braids off her face after a gust of wind thoughtfully rearranges. "I guess if you lose and want to, you know, work it off you can come see me. I don't mind. We're wingmates and all, yea?" The blue does not gobble up those thoughts shared with him, but he does take them and carefully arrange them in his mind before turning them upside down and around. << You watch Nielath >> Chadamalith says around a dizzying whirl of images of greens in flight. A fact, not a question, and one he doesn't seem particularly interested in. Just an observation.
"Yeeeeaah," Paul draws out slowly, twitching his head into a shake, looking thoughtfully at Javeri for a long moment. He might even laugh, even if it's a bit of a breathy one, and repeat 'early bloomer' though if he does it's in a low voice and quiet enough. "And even... I mean, the weyrlingmasters are awesome and all, but they've been proper dragonriders for how long now? That sort of thing must get hazy afetr a while, so while their advice is useful... Right. Sometimes it's not so applicable. To us. T'mic told me the other day to do a lap around the bowl when Yjimeth gets too -- you know -- but I'm not going to drop everything I'm doing and put on my jogging pants just because he's getting a little randy." Beat. "Yjimeth, I mean, not T'mic. Sorry. I'm just -- ranting. Frustrated. He's frustrating. It's nice to have a sympathetic ear, though." His smile in response is looser, more open though accompanied by a bit of a blush when he answers her, ah, proposition with, "Right. Wingmates and all. I'll, um, keep it in mind, Veri, thanks. And, uh. You too, I guess. If you promise you won't punch me or anything." Now he squints upward, shading his eyes against the sun, while Yjimeth pauses and beats his wings against the hair, remaining in place for a long time; his mind occupies itself with those images Chadamalith sends, although it's ever-clinical, analytic as he processes each and shuffles them, like sheaves of paper into the proper drawer. << I do. I did. He, >> /he/, P'traul, Yjimeth's, << said I must not, but Nielath is... pleasing. To observe. To study. >> This, accompanied by an experimental tendril sent along the line between them to the blue: does not Chadamalith find her pleasing as well?
"Do you have a hobby?" Javeri asks curiously as she gives her fellow weyrling a look. "When he gets a little too interested it helps to work with my clay." Shoulders shrug as she looks up at the sky. "Don't have to. I mean come see me. I'm just saying I won't mind not that I'm desperate to get you into bed. And thanks for the return offer, but I don't do that. Won't sleep with someone if my mind's on someone else." So few rules about that sort of thing for a holdergirl. Wait, that could be her only rule about it. "But yea. When Paddy gave me the talk it was hard to really...he's so not bothered by it now, you know? And I was freaking out waiting for it to happen. It is kind of fun in its own way. You really get to see what they see and know...it's just we're closer then." Eyes turning down the bluerider mumbles, "That's all." A heavy sigh escapes before she looks over with a grin. "Or read a book? If there's some topic he's interested in you can try reading a book and direct his head to those same words as you see? I wish I had better advice." Because she's been where he has and knows what it is like. << She is pleasing >> Chadamalith agrees and shares his own view of Nielath all wings and tail and pretty hide. << She will be fun to fly with. Will you chase her then? >> The blue is only curious, cautiously so, like he is not sure how the brown would take too much interest on his part in a green he finds pleasing. << Do you talk to her? >>
"Not really," the brownriding weyrling admits, kicking a toe at the hard stone underfoot. "Everyone keeps telling me to get one, but nothing really jumps out to me as -- /me/. But I bet it really would help. Reading's all right, works well enough until I've run out of words to read and my mind wanders back to other things. I hadn't've thought of trying to redirect /him/ with reading though," and P'traul looks up with an expression of faint surprise and gratification to his fellow weyrling, "and that might work quite well. I'll give it a shot, next time." He even chuckles softly for her shrug and explanation, nods once for his understanding. "Ah... well. All right. Just thought I'd... return the favour, as it is." Now that wry smile returns again. "I suppose even now it's nice enough, when he gets in his moods, when I've the time for it. And when I'm alone, rather than out shadowing a wing or on some delivery run. I guess I'm... looking forward to it?" Paul's brow crinkles upward. "Finally really /knowing/ what it's like. If I'm to be perfectly honest, all the waiting and dalling about is the worst part of it all. Like, I wish he would just go! Do something about it! Rather then just sit and watch and be silent." He sends Javeri a hopeful, half-embarassed look. "You know?" Yjimeth, meanwhile, lofts gently higher, skipping from draft to draft, thoughtfully quiet. Suddenly the images of Nielath are all reflected at once: in polished bronze, in mirrors, in glinting silver. No possessiveness here, only a shared, mutual interest between mature minds. Right? << I may chase, >> Yjimeth murmurs slowly. << I may watch. Both are equally intruiging. I do not talk to her. >> This last comes out a bit more stilted. << I am not -- easy. With words. Or with this thing, flattery. >> Such a foreign concept!
"Hobbies are hard," Javeri admits with a nod. "I was always told to find one because they said being a potter meant working with clay could not be a hobby. But thankfully now that's not the case. I /like/ working with clay is all. So why shouldn't I do it?" There's a smile to the brownrider then as she says, "I'm happy to help. I feel like these days all I do is run to someone for help. Kind of nice to feel all adult-like and such instead of a scared kid." Then there's knowing and not knowing and for that he gets a rapid succession of head nods. "Shards! I know that feeling. I was so relieved when it was over the first time just because it was over. I don't quite look forward to them yet, but there's not that knot in my stomach there used to be. But see? I don't know about the problems beforehand like that. Like I said he directs all his focus on the green and sort of cuts me out and then wham!" She claps her hands together loudly and grins. "Then after a whole day or so of cutting me off what he's feeling for her it just hits me all in a rush and I can't hardly tell myself apart anymore." Overhead Chadamalith is not so interested in dips and dives. He's enjoying slow circles and even tries to mostly stay close to the Star Stones since he's supposed to be grounded there. An amused melody trickles from blue to brown as he tells his clutchsib << You are, I think incorrect in that assessment. It is much more intriguing to chase than to watch. To feel the wind under your wings with purpose. To see that glorious hide before you and know it might be yours. To wonder, Yjimeth, is all fine, but to know the truth of a thing you must experience it. >> He shares then the peach again to prove his point. Only when he had tasted it did he know the truth.
P'traul pulls a bit of a face at that, 'hard', but looks across at Javeri anyway with a slight smile. "That's sort of funny. You were supposed to be a potter, and find another hobby, but now you're a dragonrider, and pottery /is/ your hobby." Funny to him, at least, because Paul laughs quietly at the thought and repeats: "Why shouldn't you? You like it, after all, and we should all do what we like." Then he's quiet again while Javeri talks, and he indicates his own agreement with a sharp nod. "Well. Yes, I do suppose I am grateful for that. That would be an awful jolt, I can't imagine. With Yjimeth it's like a ... slow build-up. Kind of the opposite, really. And," he tacks on, with an ingenuous sort of grin at the bluerider once he recovers from the startlement at her sudden clap, "grateful for the advice. Or at least a willing ear. Sometimes all the weyrlingstaff in the world can't reassure you that it's perfectly normal to fret. At least knowing someone else is fretting too, or /was/ fretting even, is kind of... reassuring." Yjimeth has no such boundaries to stay within, and instead he angles his wings away so that he swoops away and down. << Perhaps. Yet I would much prefer to be patient and be successful in my first rather than make a novice error which may be avoided with more careful observation. >> But Chadamalith's words, especially 'purpose' resound with the brown, echoing back and forth until they are all drowned out until the passive ticking of machinery. Yjimeth is unfazed. << I do not wonder. I theorize. I speculate. Experimentation follows with time. It will be soon, however, I think. I would like to experience this thing first-hand. >> Or wing, as it is.
"The idea," Javeri explains as she likely had it explained to her, "Is to find something to take your mind off your work. To help you relax. And I couldn't very well tell my father that I had a way to relax. Because I was not supposed to be picking sailors up at the Sandbar and docks." And yet she was anyway. The floozy! "I guess...I don't know. Take advantage of this time you know? Not knowing what's going on and there's a certain thrill to waiting for the chase. Turn it into anticipation instead of anxiety. I wish I had. I was just so nervous. Now I sound like I'm giving advice from one of the assistants, huh?" The bluerider laughs and rolls her eyes. Chadamalith circles low, slowly, head down to watch the ground. Since he doesn't really remember his first he's got no offense to take at the brown's words. << You wonder >> he tells back to the larger dragon with more amusement than before. It echoes in the faint blue of his mind and around the imagines of flying alone and in the company of others all with the same purpose. << You do not understand >> Chadamalith goes on with a shake of his head even though the brown won't see it. He likes the head shake thing he learned from his rider and delights in getting to use it. << She is well formed. She will fly well. We shall fly well after her. >> He does not include the brown in that we rather there's a reference however slight to his rider. << She will be mine. >> Even if he had no interest in her before now he finds the idea intriguing.
"Relax, right. Pottery's probaby not for me, in that case," P'traul aims across to Javeri, though with a tone that proves he's got no offense intended, "since it's just much too messy for me. Slimy between the fingers." He wiggles his fingers at her with a bright laugh. "I used to play guitar, back before Yjimeth. Maybe I'll see if I can't get mine sent out from Black Crag. That's distracting, it's pleasant, it's -- relaxing. Sounds like a hobby to me, eh?" Not /quite/ like Javeri's hobby, but hanging out at the docks isn't really down P'traul's alley anyway. He blinks thoughtfully, once, twice, and finally acknowledges her suggestion with a slow inclination of his head. "Mmm. Anticipation rather than anxiety, yes. I suppose I could give it a shot. Not that it would be that diffcult; it's just a matter of giving over a little more to... him. Rather than me. Working with him rather than pulling away from it. Or something like that." He gives himself a good shake all over. << Naturally I do not understand, >> Yjimeth replies, placidly, with a dry cough that might be laughter of his own. << I do not have the same experience as you. >> Ever imperturbable, his mind turns to curiosity in the form of metal-legged spiders skittering, prodding at the blue's mind: if Chadamalith is so confident, if he is so sure, how many greens has /he/ won, then? It is serene interest, nothing more, nothing else, and Yjimeth likely means no offense with the probing thought, but his response to his clutchmate's confidence is only a dry, distant, << perhaps. Or another's. >> Yjimeth's, maybe?
"Pottery's not for everyone," Javeri agrees with a nod of her head and a laugh. No offense taken at all. "I love the messy part. Clay all over and making something so you can look later and remember the fun of making it. Also it can earn a few spare marks." She tilts her head and then nods. "Guitar would be good. I have no talent for music really, but I imagine if you do it's real relaxing." There comes an impish grin then to her features as Javeri says, "And girls like guys who play guitar. Wouldn't hurt to come to the Sandbar some night and see. Actually we should go get a drink sometime anyway. I feel like with us all shadowing and everything we're not seeing each other so much. While in some cases that's good I'd hate for us all to lose touch. Anyway I do hope at least some of my advice helps. Then I won't feel so bad about being banished up here." Chadamalith looks up then and angles his wings to gain height. An updraft makes it easy with only a few beats of his wings to get there. << We cannot have the same experiences for then we would be the same people. And- >> The blue's words are cut off suddenly and then he comes back with a mental sigh. << Oreilleth says I must land. He says I was not supposed to fly. I asked him if I was not supposed to fly why I had wings. He did not seem to know. >> Future flights and talking of such must be put on hold it seems.
"'Course you do, you wouldn't be Javeri if you didn't like the messy part." P'traul even dares a bold wink for the blueriding weyrling, just a playful show of course before he's pushing himself off from the eye rock and brushing at the backside of his trousers. "I don't imagine I was terribly good at it, but it was nice enough. And with practise, maybe, I can," he waves dramatically, "unveil my talent to the public at large! I'll be irresistable! Women will flock to me when I make my appearances!" Okay, maybe not. But he laughs anyway, begins to pick his way to the steep, dark stairs leading back down, although turned towards Javeri so he can answer enthusiastically, "Oh, sure! I mean, with our own weyrs and all, it's not like we're living on top of each other like we used to, but there's such a thing as /too/ much distance, too. Of course, really, we're only a thought away, dragons willing to co-operate. And don't worry. It was a useful banishing. To me, at least. You're a great help, Veri." He finally acknowledges his sidling attempt at a depature with a tilt of his head, "It's nearing lunch. I bet they wouldn't've wanted you to /starve/ up here, would they? Join me?" One elbow is offered, gallantly, and he flourishes the other hand to the stairs. "Since this exile is about as effective as a room with a locked door and an open window." Noting his lifemate trying to make an escape from his dragon-imposed prison, Yjimeth stutters an irritated bugle and drops a 'length or two in the air, wiggling his wings, though Chadamalith is not forgotten. << Hmm. Perhaps Oreilleth is not very wise. >> A moment of thought. << Yet conceivably he intended it only temporarily. Not intended to fly /now/. Intended to fly /later/. As a punishment of some sort. >> Yjimeth snorts softly. << It is se-sem-->> his mind disappears, retreating into P'traul's, and he returns triumphantly with the word he sought, << semantics. But the breeze is stiff. >> A non-sequitur at its best. << I will follow it to where it may go. Farewell, Chadamalith. >> And with that, the brown drifts higher and further away.
"I suppose I'll be in trouble no matter what," Javeri says with a laugh as she stands up. The elbow will be taken and despite getting in trouble later she still leaves now. Lunchtime after all. Overhead Chadamalith circles down to land where his rider was after she leaves. That way they can technically still be there.