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Zunulth had been interested in the hatchling whites ever since they'd cracked shell. The brave one that had charged his bronze siblings, and much later the one who'd come to the aid of her sister after the one candidate boy'd died. They'd been far too busy to seek either out, of course, and similarly the weyrlings had been swamped with lessons. That didn't deter his interest though, and now they were really starting to grow! He'd seen one or two of the clutch flying, and then all of them, and then with their riders on their backs...how time did fly. Perhaps because his interests had been fixed on the smallest of the batch was why the change had seemed slower, more subtle.

They were nearly grown now though, in size if not through their training. Zunulth had asked Amna to go and see them time and again, and at last she'd had the time (and at a time when the weyrlings were free as well), so down they'd shot, together, into the bowl where several had been lounging about. A puff of dust and sand kicked up as they touched down, none-too-gently, and the white let his diminutive rider slip from his back to grin, wide and toothy, at the lady weyrling.

"It's Isilje, right? And Brancath? Hey! I'm Amna, and this is Zunulth! He's been super excited to meet you guys and the other white...Akeroth? Maybe?"

Amna's grin widened, her own sunburned cheeks rounding, numerous freckles flexing with the gesture. "Amazing! Well, I know we're sad not to have them around today too. But always next time, huh?" She thrust a hand forward, eager to shake an apparently entirely unbothered by the unusual looks of the girl in front of her. And why would she be bothered? She spent all her days with a stark white dragon—a stark white person was fine too, she figured. "If it's easier on your eyes to keep the goggles on, don't take'm off on my account!" She chuckled. "Figured you had'm on for a reason. Sensitive eyes?" The whers in her home hold had been photosensitive too. Not that she'd dare compare the lovely girl to a wher, but still. She understood how rough it could be out in the glare for some.

Zunulth had placidly been watching Brancath fly until the talking had begun. then the white'd fixed Isilje with an intense, but curious stare. He'd ever been less finicky with ladies—men, he found, tended to draw his rider's attention more often, and thus required more thorough vetting. Have you or the other, white's rider had any troubles in lessons? I will admit to knowing less of how Western rears their whites, as I was shelled in High Reaches. I should imagine your care and instruction's been much better handled here than there. Oh, yes, hello Brancath. The white's head turned, regarding the other white with a mix of analytical curiosity and...frankly eager excitement. Even here at Western, the number of white dragons was slim enough that every new one was an excitement to the older dragon.

I've been ready to meet you and Akeroth since I saw you shelled. Please, if there's anything I or my Amna can do to assist your training in any way, ask. His eyes twirled blue-green, simply delighted to be near another of his kind, all but brushing aside the markedly cool reception of the younger dragon. He'd ever been the cocky one, after all.