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 Posted: Sat Jun 20, 2009 10:18 pm
C'miel, I itch, it's annoying and you're ignoring yours. C'miel get up. C'miel...
C'miel cracked his eyes open at the incessant voice rambling in his mind. He had finally, finally, gotten a break from his weyrling duties and had promptly passed out, sprawled across his beds furs, not two candles ago. Blearily he squinted down at the flit currently curled atop his belly, turning his head to the side to come face to face with Lureniths large head resting on the bed not currently occupied by C'miel himself. Twin furrowed brows starred back at each other before C'miel sighed, apparently loosing in the silent battle of wills.
Groaning, C'miel dry washed his face with a hand before hoisting himself up, Toad giving an echoing shriek of protest at the movement before being muffled by the bed furs being tossed over him. Snatching the first clean tunic from the bedside floor C'miel shrugged it over his head, Lureniths voice grumbling about his apparent sluggishness in satisfying the browns needs in the back of his mind.
"C'mon," C'miel waved at Lurenith to follow, making a note to bring at least a small jar of oil back with him, tired of the constant treks to the weyr bowl whenever Lurenith got the itch. Which was often, he mused as said brown ambled along beside him, bumping against his legs periodically. The brown was growing rather rapidly, though all his size seemed to go straight to his wings, his body leaner than most browns occupying the Weyr.
C'miel belatedly acknowledged the soft coos and trills entering his ear, reaching a hand up to idly run a finger over Toads eye-ridge. Casting a glance about C'miel straightened as a drudge approached, smiling his thanks as she passed him a rather large jar of oil while Lurenith made a beeline for the first patch of sun he could find.
"That's just going to make your itch worse," the Jr. Weyrlings observation was met with a rather half hearted grumble. Opening the jars top C'miels eyebrows quirked up from their normal scowl, grin growing at the smell of lavender coming from the jars contents. "You'll smell as pretty as a gold," C'miels grin grew as Lureniths grumbles grew in petulance.
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Posted: Sun Jun 21, 2009 8:51 pm
Mornings for E'rik had always meant the same routine. He rose an hour before he had to and found some secluded place or other to practice singing and playing. It was in many ways a pointless exercise, destined to come to naught, but he needed music in his life like he needed air, and even Impressing Daramulath a turn ago hadn't changed that. Daramulath reaching adulthood, however, meant that he didn't have to sneak around to practice his music, since a Wingrider was allowed to do as he pleased when not drilling or caring for his bondmate. He appreciated this more than he could say, even though drilling and caring for Dara still occupied the greatest percentage of his waking hours.
Today he was in the Bowl, rubbing oil over the cracks that formed as a result of his riding harnesses. Since the large brown had achieved his full growth there had been significantly fewer dry patches or cracks for E'rik to oil on his hide, but the riding harnesses were still relatively new hide and had a tendency to chafe when worn for excessively long periods of time. Yesterday's drills had been excessive, as far as E'rik was concerned. They had worked from immediately after the noon meal through the evening meal, and E'rik's muscles were still sore.
That feels lovely, Dara crooned. His second eyelids had closed with pleasure and his wings were limp, drooping toward the ground. A little harder to the left, please.
"My left or yours?" E'rik muttered as he grimaced. His muscles ached, and rubbing Dara hard made them hurt worse, but he couldn't deny his dragon anything, and he knew the risks of cracked hides when going between. He would never knowingly expose Dara to that kind of risk. So he rubbed harder, wincing as pain shot through his back and shoulders.
Mine, Dara replied apologetically, forcing E'rik to shift his attentions from one side to the other. Also, look at the other brown. Have we met him?
E'rik hadn't even noticed C'miel and Lurenith, and couldn't have said whether they preceded them to the Bowl or followed. His mind had been elsewhere. Mostly on his sore muscles, and on how he ought to have soaked longer in the baths the night before, except Cobalt had been making things difficult. The young firelizard was almost as much work as a young dragon, and not as good at articulating his needs.
Which reminded him...as he glanced over at C'miel and his dragonet he saw that the blue firelizard was making his slow, awkward way across the grounds to make their acquaintance. E'rik hopped down from Daramulath's back and took a few jogging paces to scoop Cobalt up and settle him on his shoulder.
"Hello," he greeded C'miel.
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