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 Posted: Tue Dec 18, 2018 5:25 am
Quote: Nyaranau [HR] - 19 - she/her/hers - Weyrling of Gold Mictecath The early morning starts were refreshing, as was the snow that piled high upon the bowl. Nyara so dearly loved the sight of the Weyr, wrapped up in a soft, white blanket. Those stories her mother had recounted, of a birthhold filled with heat and scorching sands… well, they were as distant and the Red Star As far as she was concerned, High Reaches was the only home she had ever known- and the only one she needed. Mictecath was not quite so impressed with the weather, though she loved her home regardless of its tiny ‘imperfections’. As Nyara sprinted forwards, tossing her arms up as a gentle flurry danced overhead, Mictecath marched towards the lake in stoic silence. It would be cold… but this was necessary. Bathing and feeding was necessary. She knew she was growing bigger with every meal- though they were a mere month from the shell. “We could do a little dance, to warm ourselves up whilst we wash you.”I don't see why I simply cannot bathe with you in the lower caverns. I still fit. Mic declared, not entirely satisfied with the solution. The sight of her rider, practising some skipping step in the shallows, amused her. The young woman was splashing water to her knees, but she didn’t seem fazed by the cold. The dragonet supposed she ought not be either. “Not sure folks would take too kindly to dragons being bathed there- even one as beautiful as you, my dearest heart.”I don't see why not. We live together, don't we? And she stepped into the cool lake, a slight hiss the only sign of her discomfort. It, too, passed, and she masked the flicker of orange annoyance that crossed her swirling eyes, forcing herself to endure with only the green-blue of contentment. She tried following Nyara’s steps, imitating a rather decent one-two-skip before synchronising her back legs as well. Ah, see! I have it. No human dance is too much for Mictecath.“You're a natural!” Nyara exclaimed, rolling up her sleeves as she wetted the brush and began to apply sweetsand to the golden hide. “It must be in your blood. Imagine your granddam Eveleth, dancing as a dragonet.”I suspect she was incredibly talented. Perhaps even almost as good as me. Mictecath boasted, in a rare moment of selfishness. Dancing was fun- and she didn’t even notice the cold anymore. This was a far better distraction than anything- except perhaps singing.
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2018 8:49 pm
Izdubath tugged his rider along by his tail. He was going for a bath he did not care what time it was. He was dirty from the last lesson and he didn't want to think that others would look at him in a poor light for smacking into that large rock during a ground drill, he wasn't hurt but the rock was and now it stood an unfixable testament to his iron thick skull. Oh the shame! Hopefully the water would wash the dread of laughter away. "Oh come on it wasn't that bad! That blue did the exact same thing! They just were not big enough to crack the rock never mind break it in two. You will learn! People cant even walk when they are born, it took me months to crawl!" I'll not have it, I'm washing all the evidence away!D'mon tried to dig his heels in but it was like a fly trying to hold back a great bronze tide and his sparkly shimmery muddy dragon was moving forward at basically an unhindered pace. Izdubath reached the lake and sunk himself promptly before he even noticed anyone else was there. D'mon smartly let go of him before he was dragged into the depths by the would be kraken of his heart. He put his hands on his hips. "You already had a bath, my elbows are sore." He let his arms fall limp dramatically. He at least had noticed they had an audience and would use any excuse to get a laugh out of someone. I don't care, they must not hurt that much for you to hang on so hard. D'mon waggled his eyebrows at the gold pair and slumped to the ground, only to be nearly swamped for real when his dragon rushed to his side. I didn't mean it D'mon, are you really faint? Hungry? I always say you should eat more food, your such a tiny thing. Izdubath nudged him gently, his 'gentle' pushing his rider around on the sand. D'mon was almost shaking from suppressed giggling.
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2018 3:44 am
As they continued to jig, the morning’s solemn quietness was broken by the arrival of another weyrling pair. Nyara, who was expertly trained in the art of multitasking, watched D’mon’s progress as she flipped the brush from sweetsand-pail to dragonhide, smile quirking at its edges as Izdubath dragged his rider on. Sloughing off dead skin and relieving itchy hide had a similar motion to brushing herdbeasts or sweeping, and the familiarity made it almost easy. Oh, I do hope Izdubath is careful… riders are irreplaceable. He’s going to be very upset if he breaks him as well, I just know it.Nyara grinned, chuckling to herself as she shook her head. “Well, it was a very impressive display. I’m surprised they haven’t made a study of the rock. Or Izdubath’s head.” Nya murmured, glancing at the shattered geological remains some distance away. It was hard to see the crack from the lake, but even now the rumours were spreading that perhaps Izdubath had been infused with some godly strength. But it was not Izdubath’s feat of strength that amused her- no, it was D’mon’s whole… being. He had a way of acting, especially around Izdubath, that warmed her heart to see. His flair for the dramatic never failed to amuse. And it was fun to watch him play with his bronze bondmate. “We’re going to have to oil you after this. Look… you’re growing so fast, your hide is showing a crack there.”What?! Like a Lady shocked to find a tear in her favourite dress, Mictecath dropped all dancing-pretense and kept her wings firmly stuck to her sides. Absolutely abhorrent! Her hide- cracked? Disgraceful. “No, come on, silly… lift that wing up, otherwise I can’t brush you well enough to help.” Nyara sloshed a little into the water to comfort Mic, grinning as, nearby, D’mon dramatically slumped to the ground. And, oh- it appeared as though Izdubath was growing distressed. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Izzy.” Nyara offered, as Mic, in a moment of self-conscious shyness, hid unsuccessfully behind her rider. “I think the best thing your rider needs to revive himself is a big splash of water. Nothing more rousing than that on a sleepy early morning.” She hadn’t been privy to their conversation, but watching Izdubath fuss over D’mon had definitely given the young woman some inclination of the situation. Plus, Izdubath was sweet. Mic had told her so (then again, she seemed to think most were sweet, save for a few ridiculous, angry siblings of hers). He seemed like the type who might mother the lanky D’mon. Izdubath, my dear, it’s lovely to see you. Are you fully recovered from your injury? The young gold asked, trying to make her voice seem sweet and soft to cover her own self-consciousness. Was it time for oiling yet? She made her way back to dry ground, Nyara following at her side. It had not occurred to young queen that her bronze brother would be just as self-conscious about the rock-incident as she felt about her hide.
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Posted: Wed Dec 26, 2018 3:16 pm
Izdubath perked up at the gold riders idea, shifting his haunches back and forth like one of the great felines, he flicked his tail forward and thoroughly soaked his rider. Izdubath then grinned at the pair when D'mon sat bolt upright sputtering indignantly. Upon hearing the gold, the growing bronze tried to twist himself into a pretzel to hide the bump on his head.
Quite fine now thank you.He liked to fuss, he was not accustomed to other dragons fussing over him. He was a protector not a protectee... though perhaps if Mictecath were to continue to check up on him that would be okay. The dragon healer had said to keep alert for signs of concussion after all... oh dear. He peeked out at Mic from beneath a wing. D'mon, dripping, poked his dragon in the ribs. "No sign of complications so far." he smiled, then bowed. "Nyara, Mictecath, how pleasant to see you outdoors at this beautiful lake which I now seem to be wearing. I never thought dragons would be so hard on clothing but here we are." He side eyed his dragon hoping to distract Izdubath from his sulking. "My dear Mictecath, please come take a look for yourself, perhaps your keen eyes will find something our kind healer did not." D'mon winked at Nyara. He did not do shy. He pulled Izy's great wedge shaped head out from beneath the bronze wing that cowled it, giving his dragon a stern look to hold it here while he ran his calloused hands lovingly over the skull. "A brisk day for a swim, I do hope spring comes early this year." Izdubath eyed the gold, all but holding his breath for her inspection. Surely this unknowness was worse than actually hitting the rock to begin with. But he knew in his heart of hearts that she was a kind dragoness, that her care was sincere. But he wished he hadn't actually broken the rock... oh what would they think? D'mon lay a calming hand on his dragon. "Your fine my love." He whispered. He loved the feel of the smooth hide beneath his hands. "For surely there is no greater gift than that of dragon hide save draconic regard." D'mon murmured to himself, determining to write that down for later. Having dragon hide at all meant having a living beast to protect pern and his regard meant that you were a rider or were deemed worthy at a search at least. What more magic could a humble man ask for?
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2019 5:19 am
It was… hilarious. Everything- from the way Izdubath prepared himself, to the resulting splash- couldn’t have been more perfect unless it had been entirely premeditated. Nyara howled with laughter. Mic gave a slight creel, at first surprised, then utterly embarrassed for both Izdubath and his rider on behalf of her own rider. I’m terribly sorry if your rider has gotten more soaked. My rider’s counsel has a tendency of being… rather interesting, I think.“Oh, hush, Mic. See? He’s just fine. D’mon is tougher than he looks- otherwise he would never have Impressed such a handsome hero like Izzy over there.” Yet, Nyara found herself caressing those familiar gold headknobs, pouring reassurance into their shared bond, asking for forgiveness without speaking a word. Mic leaned her head ever so slightly into her rider’s chest. It seemed that the matter was settled. “It’s great to see you too, D’mon, and you Izdubath. You do look well-drenched. I’d say ten out of ten for water fashion.” She grinned at him, giving him a small thumbs-up. “At least you don’t have latrine duty- that dung smell is hard to get rid of.” The lazy grin on her face indicated that she, too, was not on latrine duty- and was all the happier for it. At the invitation to inspect her sibling, Mictecath peered up at Nyara, still attempting to hide behind her slightly. Could you oil me as we go? I would dearly love to ensure Izdubath is well.No words were needed here, either, for she picked up the pail and began to apply herself without any prompting. Mictecath stepped forwards, reaching to touch her nose to Izzy’s, before gaze at his head. She sniffed it, then gave him an experimental lick. You look and taste and fine to me. And the healers found no bruises? The young Queen double-checked, drawing away to study him a little more. Nyara worked soundlessly until Mic had finished her inspection, then smiled brightly at D’mon. “I didn’t know you were a poet. Harper as a past occupation?” Her question sounded airy, but she had a fondness for harpers since discovering her father’s penchant for guitars. Mic stood still as Nyara continued to oil her, tilting her head ever so slightly. I’m glad you’re not hurt. It would have been very distressing. We would have needed to have visited you in the infirmary, and you would have missed out on lessons, too… The certainty in her voice, coupled with a hushed kind of affection, made her seem almost possessive in a weird way. Go to lessons, get good grades, become the best: that was her expectations for her kin. And no fighting- yes, that was definitely important too. And making time for overt displays of affection... oh, okay, fine, there was a whole list that needed to be checked and done. Izdubath, for the most part, was par for the course; an exemplary brother.
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