Lessons in Patience [Tags R'wign]

[Rowana]

Farryl sighed deeply, knocking her head lightly on the desk in frustration. Outside, the rain was falling merrily. Peppeth was enjoying frolicking with some of the other young dragons and she was here. With Peppeth to care for, classes to attend, and all the stress of recent events, she had completely forgotten one other task she had to do. Learn how to read.

It hadn't been so bad at first. Saeo and Raylin had helped on occasion and by now she could manage to read most simple things. But reading them and writing them proved to be very different. She kept forgetting letters and her spelling was atrocious. Farryl swept away her work in disgust, scattering sand off the board. No one in their right minds would let her touch precious ink and paper. Why was it so important to learn this anyway?

[glamourie]

"If you keep bashing your head like that, you'll eventually start seeing things that aren't there, and then we'll have to strap you to a cot in the infirmary until we're sure you're not taken with madness. This would be most unfortunate as the food they give us to serve there is often some of the worst I've ever had the misfortune of smelling and, having been a patient once myself, I can safely say that I'd rather live off of rocks and sand than try to survive on what the drudges claim is edible for sick and injured folks. Take the hint and stop that."

Did he sound like he was lecturing? That was probably because, well, he was. With his arms behind his back, fingers curled together out of sight, R'wign looked considerably younger than his tone and words implied. His black hair had grown back out to around his chin in length, so unfortunately he couldn't keep it tied back effectively. Though he was born and raised in Nerat, the dark tan he sported spoke of Southern lineage; he'd been at Selenitas more than long enough for his skin to change shades. At twenty, he was one of the youngest healers on staff, and also one of the most experienced. R'wign was a quick learner, and unfortunately, that made it easy for some people to forget just how young he actually was. R'wign included.

The fact that R'wign managed to get so many words out without interruption was a miracle. The reason for that came in the form of four firelizards, three of whom glided around to perch at assorted places around the table. Collision the blue settled on one of the shelves of the book cases and fluted thoughtfully. However, he quickly lost interest in the girl that had his bonded's attention and curled up to go to sleep -- right where he was. Stumpy, on the other hand, settled on the back of Farryl's chair and chirped at her, clearly expecting an introduction. Roxie was less polite, going so far as to land directly in the path of Farryl's head, and she scolded loudly to make sure she wasn't overlooked. She wasn't one to be ignored. The fourth of the group was brown Hazard, who gingerly made himself comfortable on R'wign's shoulder and watched the others with a cool indifference - or perhaps 'patience' might have been a better word. All in all, R'wign rarely went anywhere without a colorful entourage.

Unfortunately, the fifth part of his group couldn't enter the Records Room. It was something that Checkoth was protesting, too, going so far as to try and cram his ever-growing body into the door. He didn't get very far, but he certainly put forth an impressed effort. The brown weyrling managed to wedge his nose in the doorway most efficiently so that no one could come or go. And, to his great irritation, he was stuck.

R'wignmine, R'wign... He didn't get an answer immediately because R'wign leaned on the table to look at Farryl, and he was too polite to explain his predicament. However, a low whine sounded from near the doorway that was impossible to ignore for very long...

[Rowana]

Farryl looked up in surprise. She was more than a little embarrassed that someone had witnessed her war with the table, but she had to smile at his reasoning. From what he said, he must be one of the healers. She didn't really recognize him, but that wasn't so surprising. She had never really had much reason to visit the infirmary, thank goodness. Though she did think she would remember anyone who had so many fire lizards. Her eyes lit up to see them perch around the room. It was already starting to look like a happier place.

"Thanks for the advice." She waved sadly at the remains of her work. "Though time in the infirmary might be better spent than time here." Her voice held a tinge of amusement as she spoke. She much preferred company to working alone and was more than glad for the interruption. Realizing she was forgetting herself in front of someone who was clearly her senior, she rose quickly and held out a hand. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "I'm Farryl. Weyrling to the bouncy ball of green named Peppeth."

Tille, who had since abandoned Farryl to her fate long ago, arrived back in the room with a tiny pop. Delighted to see so many of her kin to play with, she chirped amiably in greeting, before settling on Farryl's shoulder to nuzzle her neck. Peppeth, meanwhile, had decided to see how hers was doing. She was still small enough to fit inside most rooms if she tried, but was surprised to find something large and brown blocking her path. Oh! she exclaimed with interest, so that both hers and the mysterious lump could hear. She sniffed Checkoth curiously. What are you doing there? she asked innocently, after finally identifying him as a fellow dragon.

[glamourie]

R'wign smirked. "Time spent in the infirmary is not fun for anyone. Particularly not for the healers. We don't like it when patients come in with self-induced injuries, it makes us get prickly," he said with a light bob of his head, as though to confirm his words. In his experience, anyone who enjoyed the infirmary was lacking in intelligence. The food was terrible as he said, but also, the healers were not exactly personable when on duty. Yes, some of them could be pleasant, but he knew no one who liked having to tend to someone who caused themselves harm. When it was an accident, it was bearable, because the person couldn't entirely be held accountable for their actions. When it wasn't... well, that's when things got more ... touchy. R'wign was an impatient sort, too. He had a habit of being condescending. Normal injuries, not self-induced or the result of a person's idiocy, made R'wign one of the easiest people in the world to get along with. He was friendly, pleasant, talkative and flirtatious (with both sexes, despite his being heterosexual). But R'wign's patience did have a limit.

As for introductions? He quirked an eyebrow, smiled, and cocked his head to the side. "R'wign. That green -" Roxie was eyeing Tille unpleasantly; she'd never liked other flits much, despite Hers managing to Impress them constantly, "- is Roxie. The two blues are Stumpy and Collision respectively. This is Hazard." He lifted one hand to indicate Hazard on his shoulder, and the brown chirruped amiably in greeting. "Checkoth is somewhere--"

R'wignmine, I'm stuck!

"-- stuck. Stuck?" Blinking, R'wign turned and stepped away from Farryl (obviously distracted by the brown weyrling's discomfort). He made his way over to the doorway only to be presented with Checkoth's face staring right at him, his eyes whirling in distress. The healer paled slightly. "You - what - how - Check, what are you doing, how did you cram your face in there?" Without waiting for any response from the girl, he moved to circle his dragon, trying to figure out the best course of action to dislodge the brown. "What are you thinking? You can't fit through there!"

I thought I could squeeze, Checkoth admitted, making a low warble sheepishly. Now there's a female looking at my hindquarters. I feel rude. Swinging his tails back and forth, Checkoth crooned. The sound was muffled, but it was directed at Peppeth. I hope she doesn't think my backside looks big from this angle. Then he addressed her as best he could (since he was stuck he couldn't see which dragon it was at all) from his position. I was trying to get inside to R'wignmine but I don't fit and now I am stuck. I'm sorry if my backside looks big and is in your face. R'wignhis had taught him some manners. He squirmed, trying to pry his head free, but to little avail. The brown's two tails lashed again. Are you Peppeth? I can't see you to tell!

[Rowana]

Tille chirped indignantly and Farryl winced as the sound hit her ear. "Oh, and this is Tille," she added a little too late. Tille puffed herself up proudly, ignored Roxie's glare, and starting making sweet trills at the males. "It's not to meet you..." Farryl began, before she noticed that R'wign's attention was drawn elsewhere. "Wait. Stuck?" She rose quickly and went to see what the commotion was.

"Oh my!" Farryl had to cover her mouth with a hand to hide a bubble of laughter. She knew that the poor brown and his rider must be uncomfortable, but that didn't stop it from being one of the funniest images she's ever seen. Taking a deep breath to control her mirth, she spoke up again. "Can I help? Maybe you and I can push and I could get Peppeth to pull from outside." She sounded doubtful. Peppeth wasn't exactly very strong. Peppeth, dear? Can you come to the Record Room? Yes! Peppeth's voice loud and close. I am already here! Good. And when you get here can you...wait. You are?

Peppeth was indeed outside, examining every inch of Checkoth that she could see with intense scrutiny. She was thrilled to discover that her new, if somewhat odd, friend had figured out who she was. I am Peppeth! she cried joyfully. Her next out burst came without warning and with perfect innocence. An older dragon might have realized that Checkoth was embarrassed and said kind words of assurance. A smarter dragon might have simply denied the truth to make him feel better. A wiser dragon might have ignored the issue all together and changed the subject. Unfortunately for Checkoth, Peppeth was none of those dragons.

Wow! You are big!

[glamourie]

If Tille was trying to earn herself fans, she was unfortunate. Stumpy - the oldest of the males - was rather intelligent for a blue, and though he chirped back amiably, he did not otherwise respond to the green's attention. He knew Roxie well enough to know that to lavish affection on any other green would enrage her (though, strangely, she didn't mind his fixation on Millieth). Collision, having curled up and gone to sleep, did not appear to notice the green at all. It took a lot to make that little blue acknowledge anything. He was quite fond of sleeping, and anything that prevented him from doing so was immediately made into his nemesis, to be destroyed at all costs. Tille wasn't loud enough to wake him -- luckily. The last of the males, Hazard, simply replied with a casual flute that was polite, friendly even, but with a distant sort of composure that was very typical to him. It was rare for him to act anything short of dignified. Of the three males, Hazard was the most elegant... and he made Roxie look like the clutz she was. His perch on R'wign meant as soon as his person moved, so did he, and he flipped his tail as if to wave 'goodbye' to Tille. Pleasant as always.

However, as Checkoth came into the little brown's sight, there was one undeniable sound: scolding. Hazard flapped his wings in irritation and eyed the larger brown with contempt, letting loose with the firelizard equivalent of a good tongue lashing. R'wign winced, putting one hand over his ear, and eyed Checkoth. Hazard proceeded to tell him what's-what, not letting up until R'wign gently peeled the flit from his shoulder. The movement distracted him.

"Hazard, I think he gets the point." Turning back to Farryl, R'wign frowned. "I'm not sure there's much we can do for him, exactly. I mean, we can try pushing, but I don't want to hurt him.. or the doorframe. I doubt the Archivist would thank us for that. I wonder if there's a way we can, um... lubricate him enough that he can squeak out. Checkoth, how much can you move?"

Unfortunately for R'wign, while he was discussing tactics to free the brown weyrling from his confinement, said dragon was paying much more attention to the green talking to him. Her comment made him squirm visibly and his eyes whirled pink in embarrassment. Quickly he yanked his head, then flapped his wings repeatedly, trying to free himself. Peppeth's statement and R'wign's question came at once and in his distress, he keened loud enough that everyone in the Records Room would be able to hear him. His tail lashed around quickly.

I can't move very much, he answered his rider, his eyes whirling rapidly in what was quickly becoming panic. Peppeth says I'm big, is my backside really so big? R'wignmine, get me out of here, I don't want to be rude! Again he yanked, as hard as he could, hard enough to rattle the frame of the wooden doorway. At the same time, he flapped his wings, kicking up grass and sand from the ground of the Weyr. Obviously the little weyrling was putting all of his oomph into freeing himself, but... not with very much success. He quickly grew fatigued from his efforts and flopped right on his stomach, his legs sprawled beneath him and his wings lying lifelessly at his sides. Ow! Ow! That hurts, ow...

"Stop struggling," R'wign suggested, then turned to Farryl. "Um. Do you know of any oils or anything in here...? Something that can be used to help lodge him free? He'll probably have to turn his head slightly, it seems like his ridges are getting stuck..." And to Checkoth, "Don't worry, we'll get you out, you wherryheaded fool. Trying to get inside. Honestly. Buildings weren't made for dragons!"

[Rowana]

Farryl frowned, eying Checkoth critically. "Well, there's ink," she offered slowly. "But I don't think the Archivists would like us to use it for this." She thought a little longer. "There might be some soap here somewhere for cleaning. I did chores here last month and that was pretty much all I did." Farryl began hunting around in the corners until she discovered an bucket half full of old cleaning water. She brought it to show R'wign, her face screwed up doubtfully.

Peppeth seemed obviously to Checkoth's embarrassment, though this was probably because she could not see his face. She danced around behind him to avoid his desperate attempts to free himself. What is it like to be big? she asked curiously. I want to be big someday, but it is taking so long! She paused as Checkoth collapsed after his efforts. Now she seemed to realize how uncomfortable he must be. Are you alright? she crooned sympathetically. Are you hurt?

[glamourie]

"Uhm. No, ink isn't necessarily a good thing. Soap might work though," R'wign mused with a glance at Checkoth. He tried to imagine his brown's wonderful hide, which was colored like autumn with minglings of reddish brown and honey that were remarkable to behold in the Healer's opinion, completely plastered in pitch black ink. The superficial side of him was displeased by the very mental image that thought summoned up, and the logical side of his brain deduced that ink was also likely not good for the weyrling's still-growing hide. Just because he'd become positively gargantuan (well, in R'wign's opinion -- really, he wasn't all that large for a brown of his age, though) didn't mean he was through growing. Checkoth needed to be bathed and oiled regularly to avoid cracking, and... well, he strongly suspected that ink was not an acceptable substitute. Besides, it would probably stain and, as Farryl so observantly pointed out, it would also displease the archivist to lose supplies (and probably clean up big puddles of blackness on the floor).

The brown dragon crooned weakly to R'wign and his two tails wiggled back and forth. However, the majority of his attention was on Peppeth. He grumbled slightly, upset that he couldn't see the green he was trying to talk to. He knew from R'wignHis's explanations that she was from Aslath and Corinth's last clutch - the one with all the silly-looking eggs, as much as Checkoth could remember - but other than that, nothing. She was a green. That was really all that stood out in his memory. He gave a low whine that could be heard throughout the entire archives.

Um. It's unpleasant, Checkoth explained with one sharp slap of his tails to the ground. Checkoth's tails were among his most memorable features. About halfway down the length, it split into two separate (and equally maneuverable) tails that had the same forked end that was signature to dragons - as if he had, well, two tails, rather than one. Often he moved them together, but there were occasions where he would flick just one to make a point. He did not have control enough to do that often, though. Like all weyrlings, he was learning to master control of his body, but most of his clutchsiblings had something majorly different from him: they only had one tail. He had to learn to control two. It was frustrating. So was being stuck in the door. I got stuck because I am too big. Don't hurry to be big. You might get stuck too!

Was he hurt? He snorted, eying R'wign as his rider turned back toward the green's. I'm just stuck and I don't think I'll ever get unstuck. I'm going to be like this forever and they will have to bring food to me in here and then everyone will be mad at me because I got meat on the records, he lamented with a loud keening that surely could be heard all around. It was a wonder he hadn't attracted other attention yet. I'm never ever gonna get outta here!

"Oh, do stop. We'll get you out," the brown weyrlingrider said with a waspish tone. He nudged Checkoth gently before turning back to Farryl. "Can you by chance go get the soap? I think that will work just fine for our purposes, and I'll clean the mess up when we're through."

[Requiem]

Adjusting the staff across the broad width of his shoulders, the young brownweyrling shot an easy smile at Mencia, one of the many kitchen drudges he'd come to be on friendly terms with. "No, not too heavy. The infirmary, you say?" So many were coming down ill - and probably wouldn't be able to eat any of this, truth be told - but the kitchens were determined to help where they could. Just as M'ta was. Ever since the poisoning had hit the weyr, he and Behruth had devoted most all of their off-time to trying to ease the workload of all the shadowy wraiths that secretly ran the weyr. The weyrling was comfortable around drudges, after all, and Behruth always wanted to help. Indeed, now that they were flying just a little, it was much easier to help, and the brown could get in some more practice as well.

Said brown lay sprawled just outside the main hall, on one of the landing platforms, chatting amiably with the watchdragon. His more childlike tendencies were fading swiftly. Well, most of them, aside from his obsession with shinies. M'ta shook his head slightly when he felt Behruth's attention shift to the gleaming metallic kettles slung across the young man's shoulders. "Don't even think it." Huffing, the brown let his head fall back to his forelimbs. Should I fly you? the young dragon asked, a touch of anticipation in his mindvoice. M'ta let his hand fall on the brown's shoulder as he moved past. "I'm not so good that I could keep it from spilling, Ruth. Who are you talking to?" Daryeth. Hers is egg-heavy, she says, and it makes her grumpy. But soon she'll have a little Daryeth's. Behruth nudged His happily, causing M'ta to scramble to regain his balance before he spilled anything. When will you be egg-heavy? I want a little Mine. "I can't get egg-heavy, remember?" Behruth let out a little draconic sigh.

His disappeared in the direction of the infirmary, and the dragon found himself studying the passing water below and contemplating a swim. He surely did love to swim, though he preferred company. The weyr they had now was nice. Definitely. Big enough for all his pretties. But he missed his roommate, that he did. And Checkoth was getting so big! Or maybe Behruth was just small...he'd noticed he was only about the size of the larger blues in their class. Didn't bother him, though. Smaller meant you could get through tighter spaces, and that came in handy.

As if conjured by thoughts of him, Checkoth's keening split the air. Behruth's head came up, eyes whirling faintly orange in mild agitation. Checkoth? M'ta's distant mental presence sharpened. What's going on, Ruth? I don't know, but Checkoth's in trouble! The brown streamed to his feet, muscles rippling sinuously beneath his newly oiled hide. A few awkward hops and a shaky start brought him into the air, where he immediately leveled out into something a bit more...graceful. Hold up! Ruth, don't you be flying without me...you've barely even started to learn how! Behruth tuned out the further stream of invective, knowing it was just because His was scared. His was scared a lot. And Checkoth was...stuck?

Behruth wobbled a little mid-air, landing awkwardly with a scrabble of legs that nearly had him bowling over the little green lingering just behind his hatchbrother's wriggling hindquarters. The smaller of the browns sat hard on his rump to prevent that, and still ended up looking directly down at her, his wings still outspread. Muffled curses marked the approach of His, sprinting around the edge of the building, clearly wet from having swum part of the distance. Hello little sister, Behruth greeted happily, nuzzling her as if he hadn't just nearly made her into a small green Peppoth-sandwich. What are you doing, CheckBrother? Are you okay? Concern still laced his tone, but it seemed that Checkoth wasn't being slashed to ribbons like he first thought at the terrible keening, and now he was merely confused.

M'ta ran a hand through his wet hair and glared at Ruth. "This is what you were in such a hurry about? To see Checkoth's butt?" Behruth merely crooned at his, recognizing the irritation was just M'ta's relief that nothing had gone wrong. For everyone's benefit, the brown added, It is a very nice posterior, though, don't you agree? I can play with the tails and he can't do anything! Arching his neck, he delicately took one of the branches between his teeth and gave it a light tug. M'ta rolled his eyes.

"R'wign, why are you torturing your dragon?" the weyrling called to his former roommate, certain the healer must be inside the archives somewhere. That was one place M'ta definitely refused to go unless he positively had to.

[Rowana]

Peppeth crooned sympathetically at Checkoth, though he probably couldn't hear her. She was almost immediately distracted again, however, by the site of his split tail flailing behind him. Somehow she had completely missed this striking part of his anatomy and was fascinated. Oh! she cried joyfully. You have such a neat tail! She bent down to examine it more closely and was suddenly knocked to her belly by the sudden arrival of a second brown.

Peppeth was never one to take offense and immediately got back up and accepted his greeting happily. Hello! she greeted playfully. Have you come to see too? she asked, completely innocent of the fact that Checkoth probably didn't want people to see him like this. She lit up at the new brown's attention on the funny tail. Delighted at the new game, she carefully took the other end in her mouth and tugged it too. Is this a new game? she asked hopefully.

Farryl searched around until she found a container of soap and brought it to R'wign. "Here it is." She looked Checkoth over critically. "I think we're going to need all of it. Would you like me to help?" She didn't want to be presumptuous and touch Checkoth without permission, even in this situation.

Which reminded her of what she could sense Peppeth was up to on the other side. Peppeth, stop pestering Checkoth, she scolded. Can't you see he doesn't like it? Alright, the little green replied meekly, setting Checkoth's tail gently down. The other brown was doing it. she complained sulkily. What other brown? But she soon got her answer because a voice was calling from the other side. It seemed they had more company.

[glamourie]

I do? Checkoth inquired, then added. Oh! I do! It's one of a kind. Many of his clutchsisters and clutchborhters were... different. They weren't like Peppeth and Ciceroth and Salenth and Hepaticath and even Calistoth. They were more like Phremath and Adith. While it may have pained some creatures to look so drastically different from other dragons, it didn't bother Checkoth: he loved his two tails. It made him unique! That she liked them just told him that Peppeth had taste, because he had the bestest tails on all of Pern. That thought pleased him and pushed away some of the discomfort he felt at his so-embarrassing predicament. At least she didn't seem to be really mad at him for ... well, being in her way? Being in an odd position? Presenting her with his rump? So many reasons to be mad at him; he really was a very bad weyrling.

Wait, what was that sound? Flailing his tails frantically, Checkoth crooned. The sound was inquiring. Who's there?! he asked, only to have his question answered by Behruth's. A wave of relief washed over him and he relaxed slightly, his eyes whirling. I was trying to get to R'wignmine, but now I am stuck! And his tails were captured! The little brown creeled (but not in pain) and wiggled his tails as best he could with one of them seized. Noooo, my tails! My tails! Cheaters. I'm gonna get you both when I get outta here, you'll see!

R'wign gingerly took the offered soap bars. "There's buckets of water right?" he asked without waiting for a response. Immediately, the healer turned and headed toward the back of the records room, only to stop midstep at the sound of speaking calling through the walls. The source was easily identifiable and R'wign pondered for a moment before bellowing back - sure to be heard by everyone nearby. (It was a good thing there was no Archivist around or he would've been flayed for that.) "I HAD NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH MY TIME!" Durrrr? Wasn't his fault Checkoth was goofy. He cast an accusing glance to the brownling, then turned back to Farryl. "Can you get a bucket of water to help slather that soap in, please?" He hated to ask her for so much help, but with M'ta outside, he was beginning to form an idea - an idea he needed to translate to the other brownrider if it was going to work.

Comfortingly, he patted Checkoth on the nose. The weyrling crooned to him and R'wign moved around him as best he could to see M'ta. "Muta -- M'ta --" Remembering his name was difficult, even after so many months. For turns he'd been Mutasim, and R'wign knew him as that. It took a conscious effort to remember to say otherwise. "Checkoth is stuck. We're going to try to douse him with some soapy water -" I'm getting a bath inside? "- yes, Checkoth, you're getting an inside bath - and see if we can't push him out. Do you think you and Behruth can help us from the other side?" If the other brown, his rider and the green could pull, he and Farryl could pull and Checkoth could back up - hopefully to dislodge him without injury. R'wign fully intended to check him over to make sure, though.

I'm going to squeeze out? Checkoth asked for confirmation, before rumbling in amusement. Big things through little spaces. That's silly... I need to remember that Don't let me forget, R'wignmine?

[Requiem]

Actually, I came because he was making such distressing noises, Behruth told his little green companion matter-of-factly. She'd taken the fact that he'd nearly squished her pretty well, so he thought he owed her a straightforward explanation. Delighted that she'd joined in, even if she probably shouldn't have, Behruth responded to her next question in the infirmative. Yes, it's something like that, little sister. Of course, the smaller of the two browns had stopped after just the one tug, though he still hadn't released Checkoth's tail.

Ruth finally released his friend, amusement lacing his mindtone. You mean you tried to go through there to get to Yours? Checkbrother...you are much too big to fit, he commented needlessly. I don't think I could fit, and you are bigger than I am. Didn't you notice it was rather tight when you first started trying? Behruth cocked his head to one side, though of course Checkoth wouldn't see it. Of all his clutchmates, Checkoth was probably the dearest to him, but Behruth honestly couldn't figure out where the other brown got half his ideas from...or why he did these silly things.

M'ta, who was still in something of a peevish mood seeing as how he was sopping wet and he'd come sprinting across the weyr after a weyrling who shouldn't be flying to come face-to-butt with Checkoth, sniffed pointedly. He raised his voice to return R'wign's shout, though he couldn't quite match that tremendous volume. "I'm sure if you explain your problem to the weyrlingmasters they'll find plenty for you to do!" Which of course wasn't at all fair, given this undoubtedly wasn't R'wign's fault and the brownweyrling was running himself ragged at the infirmary, but frankly M'ta didn't care.

He eased around the building to a window, leaving Behruth to Peppeth, and leapt, levering himself up casually with his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world to enter the building through a window set higher than his head. Then again, he'd done things like this countless times in what seemed, now, like a former life. His body arched over the lower sill and he landed lightly on a desk in a crouch, spotting R'wign and the girl who likely belonged to the small green almost immediately. "Yeah. Sure. Probably will work better if I lather him down a little on my side, too, though." He paused and grinned, his dark curls clinging wetly around his face. "What you yelling for, anyway?"

Slipping down to the floor, he tugged briefly at the clothes hugging his short, athletic frame, and padded over to a corner to fetch the water buckets, hefting two of them easily. Working up a lather in one, he nodded to the taller girl with her curiously colored eyes and that scar that he had an impulse to ask about, before climbing back onto the desk with bucket in hand and working his way back through the window. It was decidedly more difficult with the bucket, but he somehow managed. Sure, most of Checkoth's rump didn't need to be lathered, but if he could work any between the brown and the doorframe things might come easier.

Smiling at both dragons - though it was a distinctly wry expression - he asked of the two, "You both think you can pull the silly out of his doorway when Checkoth's is ready?"

[Rowana]

Farryl was working the soap in the buckets of water into a nice lather, ready to cover stuck dragons with. She waved at one buckets and smiled at M'ta's entrance. "Help yourself," she said brightly. She hated to think she was actually enjoying this, but it was more fun then writing any day. She waved as the second boy vanished out the window again. She was going to have to remember that trick next time she wanted to escape lessons.

She started to work at covering Checkoth's hide with soap, paying close attention to the area that was stuck. She let as much soapy liquid as possible drain underneath the door frame. Are you ready to pull, Peppeth? Ready! the small green declared brightly, so that Behruth could hear as well. She took a hold of one of Checkoth's rear legs in her fore claws, being careful not the scratch him. She might not be strong, but she was ready to try her best.

[glamourie]

I noticed, Checkoth admitted, almost shyly, But Ruthclutchbrother, R'wignmine was in there for a very long time, and I wanted to make sure that he was okay. He doesn't spend any time anywhere I can't get to for very long except the stinky place. "Stinky place" in that instance referred simply to the Infirmary, which Checkoth detested for the simple fact that it kept him from His. That it smelled funny (usually due to numbweed) was an added repulsion, and he had trouble standing the long shifts that R'wign kept. While His was busy, the brown weyrling usually pranced down to the river and sprawled out, so that the little humanlings could play with him. They were funny! And loud! How he wished that R'wignHis had one. In the meantime, though, he'd settle for playing with the small humans and splashing them, letting them splash him. He never spoke to them (though it was tempting sometimes), but he knew they liked him. He liked them, too. R'wignHis called them children. He called them 'humanlings' -- because they were human hatchlings, of course. Children was an odd word.

"That's actually a good idea," R'wign mused out loud (though it was in response to M'ta's words). Yes, he worked in the infirmary for a long time out of the day, and what was left was spent with Checkoth or trying to sleep. Sleep, however, was a strange and elusive beast to R'wign. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to leave the infirmary... permanently. It was frustrating to find that people preferred Savitri to him, or Kalierre; just because he wasn't as formal as them and didn't fuss as much didn't mean he didn't know what he was doing. The south was almost the antithesis of the north: Women got treated with more respect than men, in some ways. He'd heard Ka'rys complain about it enough (in regards to the deceased Weyrwoman, may she rest in peace) that he was beginning to believe it. He wasn't less skilled. He just didn't lecture as much, or rant if he could help it. Yet everyone seemed to come into the infirmary wanting Kali or Savitri. He was just there, apparently, to make herbal concoctions... which he could do in his spare time, rather than spend a full set of shifts. More and more appealing.

He jolted around with raised eyebrows and peered at M'ta searchingly before locating a window. Exactly what was the other brownweyrling doing and how had he done that? ... Must have been part feral, R'wign deduced with a silent nod. It was the only explanation.

"While you're climbing around, I'd like to put in a request for you to filch me some mostly-naked and attractive women of the Weyr. I have a list you can adhere to in this kidnapping spree. I feel certain you could get them to my weyr, after watching you sneak in that way. I'll handle the drugging to make them immobile," R'wign stated with a perfectly serious face, despite the fact that he didn't mean a word of it; he'd never do anything like that. "We'll start the list with Kaegan of Millieth and follow it with Lauranna of Reysalth and then Miss Farryl over here, she's pretty enough too... I'm sure I can find more. You, sir, officially have a job." He cast a glance at Farryl then playfully smiled. "I'm kidding, of course. Besides. M'ta doesn't like me enough to kidnap one of the Weyrwomen, sadly. Or you or Laurie. Pity."

R'wignmine, why do you want to kidnap them? Millieth's would probably come visit you if you asked. Want me to ask Millieth if Hers will come visit? I don't mi--

"NOCHECKOTHTHAT'SALLRIGHT," R'wign replied hurriedly (and loudly). He put one hand on the brown's nose to soothe him. Multifaceted eyes whirled in confusion and R'wign's cheeks turned slightly red as he eyed the buckets again. "Let's, uh, work on getting you out of here..."

The brown weyrlingrider quickly moved to lather up the other side of Checkoth, while the dragon simply looked very, very confused. "Alrighty," R'wign said, putting one hand on Checkoth's front flank, which was half-wedged in the doorway. "On the count of three, me and Farryl will push, Checkoth will turn slightly, and then you all pull on that side. Hopefully we'll dislodge him. Everybody ready?" The brown gave an affirmative croon, and then R'wign counted off. "One... two... and -- THREE!" At that exact moment, he leaned forward to push on Checkoth as much as he could, while the brown turned his head and attempted to push himself backwards and out of the doorway--

[Requiem]

Normally (were he in a better mood) M'ta likely would have responded to R'wign's rather lengthy attempt at humor with some sort of snarky remark about the subject of naked women always being on the healer's mind. He let it go with nothing more than a roll of the eyes this time, though, as he was occupied with balancing a bucket through a window and wasn't much in the mood for a ton of banter besides. You actually had to think to exchange words with R'wign.

Fortunately, he was quite firmly on the ground when R'wign's loud shriek (no, he could hardly call it anything else) carried to him through the window. Or he might have just toppled over with the water and doused himself all over again. Now what was that about? Checkoth was fairly exciteable, but R'wign generally didn't fit into the shout and flail category. Unless he wanted to, in which case he seemed perfectly capable of out-flailing and out-shouting the entire Weyr. Sometimes M'ta wondered if R'wign ever showed anyone what he was really about, but since the short northerner wasn't big on openness either, he could hardly fault the older boy.

Behruth, who had settled for crooning reassuringly to his clutchsibling, backed up a bit to allow His some room to get at Checkoth's rear. M'ta managed to slick up the brown a bit, maybe get a little of the soapy water between the doorframe and his flanks, but the fact remained that the boy was far too short to reach very high on Checkoth. He sniffed in disgust and finally just tossed the last of the water up and over the brown's back and hoped that would do just a little good. There were some definite disadvantages to being vertically challenged.

Ah, the three-count. M'ta nodded to Behruth, who slithered forward and edged up beneath Checkoth, right in front of his hind legs, while the boy caught hold of the leg opposite of Peppeth's. They'd see how well this worked, wouldn't they? As R'wign called out, Behruth applied his weight, trying to force Checkoth's shoulders back through the doorway while M'ta tugged at the hind leg as best he could. Dragons were so obscenely big...even when not fully grown. He grunted and dug his heels in for better purchase.

Come on, Checkbrother! You can do it!

((^^ sorreh...major suckage I know ^^)