Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sitting and being bathed was enjoyable, Mictecath thought. Nyara was not troubled by the extra amount of dragon, either- both she and her sister-cousin-Queen were outstripping most of their brethren by a rate of knots. She gave a contented sigh as her rider found a particularly itchy spot, and tilted her head in pleasure. One of life’s simpler pleasures… Mic murmured to Ana, faceted sea-blue eyes concealed beneath layers of protective lids.

Nyara was nothing if not passionate and energetic about her duties. Some, yes, she could happily do without (dragon dung was just about the worst thing on Pern, she was sure of it), but most of the time, being a weyrling was infinitely better than being a candidate, or anything else, really. She smiled as Marti began to speak, the scrubbing brush hovering inches away from the pale golden hide.

“Mic does look slightly bigger…” Nyara answered with a nod, taking a slight step back to study her dragon. “But she definitely looks somewhat more gaunt than Ana.” The bushy-haired young woman frowned, stepping forwards to rub Mic’s slender headknobs in a gesture of love and affection. Mic did not seem perturbed by the analysis, turning her contented gaze on Marti for a moment or two. I am never left hungry, but I must thank you for your concern. Her voice held poise and gentleness both.

Nyara shrugged her shoulders a little. “Perhaps I ought to encourage her to take a bit more next time? I have a better idea of when she'll be crossing into overeating territory, unlike those hatchling days... I don’t know…” Nyara gave a small sigh, falling back into the rhythm of brushing off dead skin. “You see it in runners, sometimes. Some are just built a little leggier than others. Could be Mic’s case.” Her bright smile returned, and she glanced over her shoulder back at Marti. “Ana’s looking really good. She’s shaping up to be a very fine dragon.” It was hard not to look at Ana and fall in love- although Nyara’s heart belonged very firmly to Mictecath.

At Anakumath’s question, Mic turned her head slightly, her mindvoice a touch pensive. My dearest, silly rider did catch a cold a few sevendays back. I barely remember it- but she has a lot of energy. That seems to fight off the worst of the weather’s more pestilent offerings. Mictecath gave a small snort of draconic laughter, stretching her wings so Nyara could inspect them more closely. Yours does not seem ill? If you’re worried, perhaps we could organise scheduled dinner dates for our riders… I hear people eat a lot at these things.

Mictecath turned swirling eyes on Martirae once more, as Nyara worked meticulously around the wing joints, sloughing off dead skin. Her thoughts were troubled, reflected in the red flickers of her eyes. You seem to have given our dear, sweet Ana a reason for concern. Perhaps this is something that requires more of your attention. There was a hint of sternness in her voice, and the young woman pursed her lips.

“Mic.” There was a note of warning in Nyaranau’s voice, and she tilted her head at her dragon, her eyes shifting to Marty to gauge how irritated the woman might have become. “Remember what we said about telling others what to do?”

Turning away, Mic watched the lake for a moment. I apologise. But please, do come have dinner with us. My rider enjoys studying and eating at the same time. The lesson-reward system works quite well. Ana, have you tried roasted wherry sandwiches? Delectable!

Nyaranau grinned, grabbing a cloth to begin working oil into the driest patches. “She’s stubborn, but she may have a point. Company is always good, and studying together might help us in the long run.” Nyaranau’s grin was bright and cheerful, as per her norm. The opportunity of getting to know Marty better was one that she didn't want to pass up- the young woman seemed to prefer being alone, and Nyara rather thought she needed more friends.