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There had been a bit of a break in his day, so, naturally, G'non decided to head back home to check in on his two favorite girls, his lovely wife, Io, and his little darling dear, their five turn old, Iona. The familial break was as uplifting as a stout, warming drink. Fortunately, there was just enough time for the candidatemaster to take a little bit longer so that a certain little lady could say hello to her daddy's dragon.

'Torvarth,' G'non gave the mental call. 'Wing back by our place. The wee one wants to give you a kiss on the nose.' The feeling of amused delight hit him. So, without a doubt, his partner was on his way.

Scooping up the little curly haired blonde, he kissed the girl's forehead, raising an arm at the shoulder so his flit could have a platform to jump off to go to Io to get some scratches and a quick oil bath. "Let's go watch him come in." With Iona perched on his hip, G'non opened the door to wait outside to see Torvarth come in, unknowing of what damp surprise awaited them.

Two voices rang out in the shock of being doused with a bucket of cool water. G'non had ducked his head but his knee jerk reaction was to shield his daughter from the clattering wooden bucket as best he could, throwing his free arm to hook over the top of Iona's head. Having shouldered the brunt of the watery prank, he uncurled a little and gave his daughter a quick checking over before straightening fully, dripping wet and mad as hell. She wasn't hurt, but the startled enough to start tearing up.

Torvarth, who had been making his way back home without any serious urgency, had picked up his pace and snapped open his wings to catch himself for a quick landing. 'G'nonMine!'

The blue shifted his gaze to the teenage boy pressed against the wall. 'Mine, a boy.' The dragon lowered his head, motioning his muzzled towards where the boy stood before ducking down more in line with his rider's arms, checking on the little girl held there. He chuffed softly, laying down with his wings loosely folded at his sides.

A sniffling, teary eyed Iona fidgeted in her father's arms to go see his partner, so G'non eased her to the ground. Once free, she raced over to the blue dragon, throwing her little arms around his offered muzzle. The candidatemaster swiveled on his heel, his jaw set, seemingly oblivious to the water that dripped from his hair and clothing. His concerned wife appeared in the doorway, an agitated gold flit shifting around from shoulder to shoulder. Springing to the wing, Little Wing came and perched upon his shoulder, leaving Io to check on their daughter.

Folding his arms across his chest, G'non inhaled a slow, deep breath before huffing it through clenched teeth. Quirking an irate eyebrow at the teenager, G'non shook his head sternly, disapprovingly. "What do you have to say for yourself, young man? Have I not given you enough to study after?"

Like he needed any further indication of what had transpired. G'non shifted his weight to one foot as he took in the flipping out candidate. "Too late to change your story, lad. You're going to answer for what you did to me later, but if you're wanting to apologize for getting Iona with your little prank, you're going to have to apologize directly to her." He took a step to the side, gesturing to the little girl who was talking softly to the blue dragon that was propping her up on a forelimb, the girl using it as a bench as she petted his nose. Torvarth, for his part, kept his head low and reachable as he rumbled softly to her. Her mother rubbed her back before hustling inside, apparently set on getting her daughter dry clothes, a towel to dry herself, and maybe a warm drink.

"Did you do this on your own or was there someone else in on this, leaving you to take the fall?" G'non was well aware that being candidatemaster meant that on an occasion it made him a prime target for such shenanigans from the more mischievous or bored candidates, an even rarer occasion, a weyrling might get in on the action, but there were no recent weyrlings at present.

G'non narrowed his eyes as he searched the teen's face for signs of obvious lies or nervousness, well, above the nervousness one gets from being confronted with a PO'd candidatemaster. "Hm." He gave a little nod. "You may." Moving to the door way, he accepted a warmed up towel from Io as she passed by to drape one around her daughter.

The five year old snuggled into the warm cloth that her mother wrapped around her slim shoulders, continuing to love on her daddy's blue. Torvarth was a nice dragon. He like getting kisses and he let her sit on him when he was around. The older boy approached and she wiped her nose on the towel, leaning into the nuzzling nose of the dragon she was snuggling with. Blinking her large, dark eyes up him, Iona looked between the boy who knelt down to her level and her mother, who nodded encouragingly for her to answer him.

"Why did you do that, Tarel? Daddy was just taking me outside to see Torvarth." She stroked the blue's nose.

The candidatemaster set to drying his hair as he watched the teen interacting with Iona and Torvarth, eyes narrowed slightly with eagle-eyed alertness. Io sidled up to her husband and flipped an unused portion of his towel up in front on his face. "Don't leer, dear. He's trying to make amends, or is something else on your mind," She asked, her voice low enough to not disturb the apologies.

He sniffed grumpily while attempting to wring out the excess water that had soaked into his clothes. "It's just...he has a few tics that I haven't seen in a long, long while. Also, he's lying if the tics are any indication, but he's off to a decent start to making up for his prank."

Torvarth kept his head low, giving a soft rumble to the little blonde wrapped about his snout. He chuffed a breath through his nose at the teen reaching out to touch him. He didn't move away or make any defensive or otherwise motions.

Iona looked more fully at the older boy. "Be more careful, okay?" His mentioning of music brought the girl to cast a look toward her father as well before refocusing on Tarel. "I do like music! I love it. Daddy plays his guitar most nights when he's not held up doing rider or candidatemaster things. He's really, really good. He told me that he's played since he was younger." Looking back to G'non, she smiled over to him. "Could Tarel see your guitar, daddy? He says he plays too!"

G'non, who had been in the process of trying to peel out of his sodden tunic, paused and hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. Pretty sure that instrument is older than he is, sweetheart." This statement was answered with a drawn out please. Well...it was a ways off from the candidate quarters and he most certainly was wanting a word with the boy. There was going to be no getting out of at least some form of chores or task. He grumbled and scratched his jaw. "I guess so then. Io, could you grab it for me while I try to get out of this blasted thing?"

His wife smiled and kissed his cheek. "Sure thing." Slipping inside, it wasn't long before she returned with a guitar in hand. She extended it to Tarel with a quirk of her brow. "Why don't you show us what you can do then?"

Iona's expression became pinched with distaste. "Your uncle sounds mean. People should be what they want to be. Dragons are wonderful," She chimed while snuggling against Torvarth.

Relinquishing the guitar, she returned to help wrestle the shirt from her husband's back and wrung it out when they managed to get it free. "It's G'non's too. He cut his harper teeth with that guitar. He plays beautifully." She smiled at the candidate master who grumbled softly at the attention, but grinned a bit and quietly thanked her.

The little girl sat down upon Torvarth's forearm to listen to the older boy play. With his snout freed, the blue lifted his head again, looking rather like a nesting or roosting bird with the way he folded his wings.

G'non's brow furrowed slightly at the tune that Tarel began to play. He certainly wasn't unfamiliar with it. It was a favorite of Antara's. He hummed softly as he poked his head inside to change into clothes that weren't damp. It wasn't an uncommon tune, at least not as far as he knew. Io propped herself in the doorway to listen and watch the impromptu show, plus block the view into their home. Tarel did play with a degree of skill, she mused appreciatively.

Iona still didn't seem sold on the idea of this person. She wrinkled her nose with a shake of her head. "You can't make someone they aren't though!" Tarel's revelation that his mother passed away when he was a baby brought a gasp from the little girl. Frowning deeply, she looked over to her mother before retraining her attention on the teen. "I'm sorry," She said softly.

G'non's voice carried out from inside their weyr after somewhat of a drawn out pause. It had been long enough to warrant Io glancing over her shoulder to make sure he heard and was alright. "I was. Got Searched kind of late, but I was indeed a Harper. Fort was my old stomping ground before I was came here." He pulled on a new set of clean, dry clothes before creeping up behind his wife to plant a kiss on her shoulder. Seeing as he was properly decent, she smiled and scooted out of the way.

Iona hummed as she thought. She greatly enjoy just about whatever her dad played, but did she have a stand out favorite? "Do you want to hear Daddy play? He's really good! He sings nice too!"