Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ennrik - E'rik, now, he had to keep reminding himself - had not gotten much sleep the night before. Not that he often got more than four to six hours of sleep in a night, simply because he was too restless for that, but last night had been more sleepless than most. After the hatching feast, he and Daramulath had found one of his solitary spaces and they'd spent much of the evening getting to know each other. Mostly it was Daramulath getting to know E'rik, which was almost as overwhelming an experience as their Impression had been. E'rik felt as though the very essence of his being was under scrutiny during this exercise. Daramulath called forth all of E'rik's memories, good and bad, as he learned who his bondmate's history.

As a result of their nocturnal getting to know each other session, Daramulath was exhausted and had remained asleep after E'rik woke up. Because E'rik really did wake up in time to be early to their first Weyrling lesson. He couldn't even dress while he waited for his bondmate to wake because Daramulath was sprawled across him like a large canine, effectively trapping him in his cot and cutting off the circulation in the lower half of E'rik's body. Reluctant to wake the sleeping Dragonet, E'rik had managed to convince one of the other boys in the dormitory to pass him a top from the trunk at the foot of his cot, and he'd donned that, but until Daramulath shifted he could do nothing more.

Once Daramulath finally shifted, E'rik was out of bed, dressed, and in the kitchens begging portions of meat for his dragon's breakfast. The kitchen staff was understanding and gave him a large bowl of bloody bits. They also allowed him to steal a piece of fruit for his own breakfast. He was halfway back to the dormitory before his mind was invaded by Daramulath's distressed cries. It had not occurred to him that his dragon would not figure out where he had gone through their bond, but he felt Daramulath's distress as though it was his own, and it forced him to hurry back to the dormitory, where he found that his brown had already begun to make his way to E'rik.

I thought you had left me, Daramulath informed his human as he gobbled up the meat E'rik fed him piece by piece. E'rik wasn't sure if he was hearing words in his head or interpreting the dragonet's feelings into words.

"I don't think I can," E'rik answered dryly. "But we have to hurry. We're already late for lessons."

They arrived late enough to miss the Weyrlingmaster's first words, but in time to overhear the warnings to latecomers. It seemed that he would be staying after to clean up. From the look of things, they were going to be butchering meat. E'rik could think of more thrilling lessons, but considering his experience that morning, he supposed it would be important. It would also be important to learn the names of Daramulath's clutchmates and their bondmates' honorifics. It was a shame he hadn't arrived early enough to converse with anyone.

As he worried, Daramulath sent soothing feelings toward him, letting him know that they hadn't missed anything important, and that the meat at the front of the room smelled very good.

Do we get to eat it? Daramulath inquired hopefully.

E'rik didn't know how to reply silently and mentally, and so he shook his head in negation and tried to think repressive thoughts of denial. He also tried to remind his dragonet that he had just been fed, though he had no idea if Daramulath understood. At least the dragonet didn't try to help himself to the dead wherry.

Coriath? Standing in the front row at her rider’s feet, Inannath arched her neck backwards to follow the weyrlingmaster’s nod, lifting her chin so high that she had to sit down. What she saw was an impossibly vast bronze whose head was bigger then her entire body. Her reaction was instantaneous: She reared up on her hind legs with an enraptured bleat, which was cut off by Emori’s hands as they closed around her snout. The little creature had no fear—she really wanted Coriath to notice her. Luckily, she was distracted before she could start up a largely one-sided conversation with the great beast. It’s hard to do much of anything when someone has a hold on your headknobs, and Emori’s grip was quite firm.

“Pay attention to S’kagi,” she hissed at the dragonet. “We can socialize later, I promise. Just… please, be quiet.”

But how can I be silent when Coriath is such a magnificent creature? If only I could be so grand! And I told you I smelled food, do you see it there? Oh, Emori, it looks delicious, will Coriath eat it all in one powerful bite? Will there be any left for the rest of us? The babbling voice in Emori’s head drowned out everything S’kagi said about oversleeping and firelizards. She was beginning to seriously worry that she’d walk away from this lesson with nothing to show for it… except maybe a headache.

R'dan had been woken up by a rather impatient Coatlicueth, who'd insisted upon being oiled because she was hungry and she itched and itching was bad and shouldn't he make the itching stop because that was what he was for, right? Only... not in so many words. In fact, the conversation had been more like "Mine, food. Make itch stop."

Then it was almost time for their lessons and R'dan just knew they were going to be late. "Coatlicueth... we're going to be late. We need to get going."

But... I like this~ Don't stop! She demanded, crooning a bit as he rubbed oil into her hide.

R'dan sighed. "If we're late... you'll be late in getting fed." THAT caused the green to vacate the weyrling barracks so fast that R'dan was still sitting on the floor where he'd been rubbing oil into the green's hide. "HEY!" He quickly ran to catch up to the green, who was determined that she was going to get there and eat before all her clutchmates ate it all, because they were all pigs and fat and she was so thin....

So they managed to arrive just in time for class, R'dan quickly grabbing Coatlicueth about the neck when several drudges brought a wherry over. "Not for you..." He muttered.

But... I'm so hungry~ The green looked up... up... up at the bronze. Can I eat it, please~? She asked Coriath, straining her neck towards the food. I'm so hungry and it smells soooo good!

R'dan blushed as he realized that his green was talking to the large bronze... the weyrlingmaster's bronze! "Coatlicueth!" He hissed, trying to get her to stop.

BUT I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT!!! The green whined, flopping her body to the ground with a rather loud cry, causing R'dan to blush even more as he tried to hush Coatlicueth.

S'kagi paused long enough to allow the stragglers to find their places, lifting his chin slightly and following them with his eyes, letting them know in a somewhat imperious fashion that he was aware they were late, and that in this at least he was going to make sure they knew it.
He was perfectly capable of being social and friendly, but they also needed, he felt, to know how serious their new role was.
"Our first lesson, like it or not, is going to be teaching you how to butcher a Wherry to feed your dragons. When they grow older, this won't be necessary, but for now the care of your hatchling is in your hands. They know they're hungry, they know they want food, and they want a lot of it, but you need to monitor what they eat and when they eat it, or they can make themselves sick or hurt themselves, and none of us wants that. I have other carcasses available, but for now I'd like two volunteers to come up here and I'll explain what you'll be doing. Then I'll partner you up and you'll introduce yourselves to your partner if you haven't already met, I realize the weeks of being a candidate have been busy and you may not have had time before now.
For those who may have the inevitable question: "Why can't the drudges do this..." A question I was arrogant enough to ask myself the first day, although I'll save someone the resulting chores from asking it out loud." He let his eyes drift around the room again. "The answer is this. Being a dragon rider does not absolve you of the need to work, and the drudges have a lot to do without spending their waking hours butchering meat for your dragon, since they're also preparing your meals. Also this will help you further your bond with your dragon, and help you keep a better idea of how much they've eaten.
Lastly while it's a bit unnerving, it's slightly less unnerving than finding out that a more grown dragon will pretty happily eat a dead Wherry in the state you're looking at it. Consider it a bit of getting used to things as well."
A wry smile at this. He'd been there, he'd had his own moments of being repulsed, irritated, and exceedingly tired, though Inannath's bleat made him have to stifle a laugh.
I don't see why you think it's funny. I think it's flattering. Coriath, now apparently more invested in the situation, sat up slightly, shifting and making a slight show of demonstrating how magnificent he was.
Oh it is. But she's also still a hatching.
She has good taste. Coriath insisted, looking pleased, but also casting S'kagi a sidelong look.

"So why don't we start with Emori and..." He let his eyes wander the crowd again, though this was a bit deceitful. He had already picked his first victim, and it wasn't a late comer. "C'ym, isn't it?"

E'rik could think of any number of things he'd rather learn than how to butcher a wherry. For example, how to communicate with Daramulath mentally, so that he didn't appear to be having a one-sided conversation with himself. It was surely a common enough practice in the Weyr, he'd found, with so many people having flits and dragons, but elsewhere it would be less usual. Not to mention, it would mean he could converse with Daramulath without having to be close enough for the dragon to physically hear him, which would be more convenient for everyone involved. Not to mention, as S'kagi had brought up, there were drudges to do this work, and if they could figure out what parts of a wherry to hack off, surely a lesson in doing so was unnecessary. It was with an effort that he reminded himself of the lesson he had learned in Harper Hall, that no knowledge is wasted.

The look the bronzerider directed at latecomers like himself had little effect on E'rik, who had grown up in various sorts of trouble once he figured out that he was too valuable as a voice for the Harpers to throw him out for misbehavior. Now, it seemed, he was equally indispensible because of his bond to Daramulath, who couldn't be taken away from him.

Daramulath, always listening in on the edges of E'rik's thoughts, said distinctly, momentarily overwhelming E'rik and making it difficult to concentrate on S'kagi, Let them try to take me away from you. I will fight and bite and slash. You are mine.

E'rik smiled, which was an inappropriate expression for what was going on in the lesson, amused by the ferocity of Daramulath's statement. He tried to fill his mind with reassuring thoughts, that no one would ever make such an attempt, and was somewhat proud when he could pick up on his brown bondmate's satisfaction. Not that he'd had any difficulty so far in understanding what Daramulath wanted, but it was an unfamiliar exercise to try to express himself emotively and telepathically, as the dragonet did.

He tried to make himself attend as S'kagi called up two Weyrlings to be walked through the bloody procedure that was the subject of the day's lesson. It interested him that S'kagi was familiar with Emori's name, but not with C'ym's. Perhaps because C'ym had only been using the shortened honorific for a day or so, and it was still new, but more likely because the bronzerider simply had more interest in Emori. Idly, E'rik wondered what kind.

When S’kagi said ‘why can’t the drudges do this?’ it was perfectly clear that the same question had been rolling around in C’ym’s mind. The new bronzerider colored at the correct accusation and shifted around in his seat, his thoughts as plain as the nose on his face. And, even worse, the older Bronzerider had asked for volunteers, which C’ym correctly understood to mean, ‘I’mma pick someone to humiliate now…’. He had been hoping that S’kagi would pick on those who had arrived late; it would’ve been a fitting punishment for them, right?

Please don’t pick me, don’t pick me, don’t pick me… It was a common enough mantra, one that was probably going through more than one head at that moment.

Since C’ym had yet to master the technique of keeping some thoughts separate from mental-conversation, Hanumanth caught the maddened plea easily. With a slight trill, he lifted himself up onto his haunches, so he could look at his lifemate in the eye. It’s important that we do this. I hope we do get picked! It’ll be wonderful to learn this… he said excitedly, the voice of both optimism and one who had no idea what lay ahead.

Besides, we are Bronze, yes? Like Coriath. We must be good examples for others. Now, scratch me. I itch. with another rumble, Hanumanth forced his head onto C’ym’s lap.

Any scratching didn’t go on for very long. At the sound of his name, C’ym briefly considered simply refusing. But that, no doubt, would mean a lecture from Hanumanth. And it was just embarrassing to get a lecture from one’s own hatchling. With a sigh, the young man stood up from his chair. “Yes, I’m C’ym. Um… should our dragons come too?”

C’ym gave the dead wherry a disdainful work, clearly wishing that S’kagi had picked someone else for the ‘honors’. No matter what name the older Bronzerider gave it, it was still disgusting work and something, the Weyrling felt, best left to drudges. He could handle feeding Hanumanth well enough, but… butchering the wherry? Eww. Just… eww. As far as C’ym knew, animals were food in the primary stage; aside from that, he didn’t really know much about it. He certainly didn’t know how much pressure was needed to cut through the tough tissue and muscle of an animal.

Still, complaining now would only result in disaster, he figured. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was, in some ways, the perfect person to choose for a demonstration. Being older than some of the other Weyrlings meant he had to serve as some sort of an example, right? Rolling up his sleeves, C’ym felt that simply not barfing would be a good example right about now. He accepted the knife and prepared to cut.

I’m itchy! Hanumanth announced. Thus far in his life, he had always been the center of C’ym’s attention. Therefore, it was a bit odd when his Mine didn’t instantly look down at him. Feeling slightly put out, the Bronze let out a few pathetic mewls, hoping to attract some scratches or at least some sort of attention. When that didn’t work, the dragon grumbled softly. While he didn’t want to distract his rider, there was no getting around the fact that his hide was itchy. Horribly itchy.

Looking around furtively, the Bronze attempted to slink off. Unfortunately, this was rather impossible given the whole… you know… ‘striped Bronze’ thing, especially since he kept grumbling. In the end, he simply attempted to rub himself against the table leg, making the table shake at the worst possible moment.

“Han! Please… don’t do that right now… I know you’re itchy…” for the time being, C’ym switched to a more vocal speech, since it was easier than using mindspeak. He glanced down at the little dragonet, just to make sure he was listening. Hanumanth gave him a downright baleful look, or about as baleful as the hatchling had ever been.


I itch, he complained with an audible squall.

C’ym just sighed and tried to ignore it. He’d gone through this phase with Lytah, although the little green firelizard hadn’t been as… well… demanding as Hanumanth. At least the Bronze dragonet quieted down enough now. Hanumanth continued to mewl and grumble, but at least he didn’t make the table wobble. C’ym wasn’t very good at butchering though. At first, he failed to apply enough pressure to cut through the thick skin. Then he did exactly what S’kagi had warned him against and perforated something.

“…Umm… it’s… oozing. Should there be oozing?”

Farnath above, the dragonrider had seen him sneak in! H'dek cringed, mentally berating himself for falling back asleep once he had been woken up. He knew there were lessons! But moaning over it now would do the new rider absolutely no good. He just had to bite his lip and take the consequences. And make sure he was never late for another lesson, that would help too. But, honestly, he'd made such a bad first impression, wasn't he supposed to be-

Mine! Bondyeth barked, bumping his rider's leg. You are thinking too much. Too much thinking and not enough doing, he complained, looking up at H'dek.

H'dek just rubbed his face, afraid to say anything out loud. He'd rather not be singled out like that green and her rider.

Bondyeth snorted and shook all over. As if. Like anyone could ever compare me to a green. I'm a bronze. The finest bronze.

Clearly, H'dek thought dryly, shaking his head. His dragon was proving to be more of handful than he'd ever imagined. Yes, he had been informed the baby would be needy, hungry at impossible hours, itchy when least convenient, things like that. However, no one ever warned him how much attitude the little beasts came with!

Another annoyed huff drew his attention back to his dragon. "What?" he asked, forgetting for a moment he was supposed to be watching a demonstration. "Are you itchy?"

No, Bondyeth replied disdainfully, though he didn't turn away the offered scratch. They are doing it wrong. I told you we were much better. Another annoyed grunt. H'dek sunk to the floor and hoped no one would notice him. Things would be much better that way.