Chavel - Resident Mindhealer and Psychotherapist

[Hanyousblood]

~Journal Entry 1~

Unfortunately it seems I left my old journal somewhere back in Fort Weyr during the fervor of relocation, so I'll be starting a new string of entries here, tonight, in this new bundle. I'll admit, I'd almost forgotten the sight of paper lacking age stains, but that's not important.

Settling in has gone well, more or less as expected. My business quarters in the Weyr are smaller than what I'd grown used to over the last couple of turns, though they are far from uncomfortable. Pavo has taken to the office like a fish to water, and I dare say that he has made greater social strides than myself thusfar with the local riders! I also know for a fact that someone in the kitchen has been spoiling him rotten with scraps, and he's been sharing the crumbs and bits most generously with all my documents.

Digressing from there, however, I'm happy to report that the great queen Cheoth has clutched in the sands-- quite a number of eggs, too-- and I've even indulged in a little betting game for the sake of what could be my next project. I look forward to seeing the ultimate thrill of youth impressing upon their lifepartners soon enough... though the lack of any Touching implemented beforehand concerns me slightly.

From what I learned through the weyrwhispers and gossip, it has something to do with a young lady's antics before the shells hardened. Shame, that. I hope to Faranth that the Hatching itself is a peaceful affair, for the sake of both the dragonets and those poor youths walking the sands.

Maulings can leave some dreadful scars on more than just the body, after all.

But I'm wandering all over the paper again, so I'll cut this entry short here. If there's one thing I've ascertained from this Weyr thusfar, it's that I definitely have my work cut out for me.

 

[Hanyousblood]

~Journal Entry 2~

In all my turns of Weyr observation and study, I find myself hard-pressed to recall a hatching quite so paining as the last. Not only did several poor young boys and girls suffer significant injury from mauling, but a newly hatched blue-- perfectly fine and intact looking, for what I could discern-- was lost between, and another egg left dead in shell. My sympathies extend to all involved in the event which, were it not for respect to the handful of newly impressed riders, I would easily deem a catastrophe.

On a slight upside, however, it seems my guessing skills have remained head and shoulders above the norm since moving, and I managed to earn myself a splendid flit's egg for the trouble. He just hatched the other morning, actually-- a bronze, of all things! Stunning little creature, too, if not excessively mouthy.

I've named him Tolo, and despite his antics, I've already fallen head over heels in love with him. He's really quite sweet deep down; in fact, he happens to be sleeping on my lap as I write this very entry. With a bit of proper training, I'm sure he'll become a wonderful therapy flit in time, just like Pavo who, might I add, has accepted his new sibling with grace and aplomb.

On that note, I still need to investigate the identity of his generous benefactor, whomever they might be. I'm going to hazard a guess that it's probably some kitchen worker or drudge from the lower cavern-- someone with proper odd-houred scrap access, anyway.

But again, I digress. The Weyr as a whole appears to be settling down once more after its civil trauma and, for those who can't move on so easily, I'll surely do my best to assist.

Tolo is starting to stir now, so I'll end things here. He tends to be fussy when he wakes.

 

[Hanyousblood]

~Journal Entry 3~

Last evening, I discovered the identity of the generous friend.

Her name is Shalaera-- a cook from the kitchens, as I half-suspected, and a terribly well-spoken, pleasant, clever one at that. It wasn't difficult to see why Pavo had taken such a shine to her; soon, I myself was swayed by her charm and openness, and learned a number of things within mere hours which would usually take days of discussion to bring forth otherwise.

To begin with, she stood as a Candidate for many turns, but failed to ever impress. This seems to have taken a grave toll on her psyche, and made for one grand mess of a complex; simply put, she has labeled herself a failure, and despite her good nature, seems terribly lonely inside. Perhaps she clung too fiercely to the dream of a dragon's unrivaled intimacy in her childhood, just as I once did. It would certainly help to justify the woman's desperate yearning for a flit of her own.

I write all of this because it is relevant to the story, of course. You see, rumor has been buzzing around the Weyr that some nesting Gold firelizard has been spotted down at the beaches, and many a young and hopeful soul have already gone out searching for it. Needing the fresh air, myself, and thinking she could use the same, I proposed heading down as well... not expressly to hunt for eggs, but for a picnic instead.

After all, I'm not foolish enough to bait the hopes of one so needy knowing full well how stacked the odds are. Two people, scouring countless lengths of rocky beach and cliff? It would be cruel to tell her there was any real chance... but I figured we could search regardless, after a nice late-night dinner. The outing was pleasant on all ends then; Shalaera and I had been chatting for some time, Pavo was delighted to hang off our shoulders, and even Tolo seemed more sedate in the fresh clear air.

Eventually I sent Pavo flying to search for signs of a nest, firmly believing it would be a fruitless effort, but much to my surprise, he grew wildly agitated and took off toward a maze of eroded shore-stones with Tolo in tow. Sure enough, somehow, he managed to find some green's clutch that the tunnel-snakes were already fast devouring. Sharding creatures nearly devoured him as well, the poor dear, but they were swiftly dispatched.

By some miraculous chance a pair of eggs had even managed to survive the ordeal, of which we took home in my rucksack to examine later. For what I could tell, both were still viable, too, and I was elated to send Shalaera off with one in parting. The lone remainder is still incubating near my hearth.

Pavo suffered several injuries from the tunnel-snakes-- most of which are minor, thank Faranth-- that I've treated in the office with numbweed and linens. He's been understandably lethargic since the incident, and seems hesitant to fly given some bites on one wing-- but his appetite remains strong and his temper pleasant, so I can't worry too much.

When he's not physically attached to me somehow (I'll admit I've been babying him terribly since the incident), he seems to enjoy mothering that egg in the sand, oddly enough. Tolo on the other hand has just been ignoring it, but so long as he continues to improve during his command exercises, I won't press his social skills.

Not for the moment, anyway.

It's been a long day and I'm growing weary as this page grows shorter. Perhaps I'll close the entry here.