Learning a new step (Lotty

[dragon]

Bare feet padded slowly across open stone with light and silent grace as Rukbat rose high enough into the sky to just send a few stray rays down into the canyon. Playing through the spray of the ever flowing waterfall, rainbows were formed to grace the cool morning air. It really was a lovely thing to behold. Which was exactly why Dorava was where she was, at that very moment.

Moments like these helped to remind a body that there was still hope for a better day. That life went on, that the sky was blue, that Rukbat would still rise. And that no matter what, there would always be rainbows somewhere.

She stretched and twisted, flowing into a bend and into a seamless shift of weight to the other foot that made no sound as it landed, bare skin on stone, behind her. Turning and flowing in the new direction, ever movement was slow and graceful, as if a dance caught in clear molasses. Most of the Weyr was still asleep. Barring those who went out for their own exercises. Usually elsewhere, in the trees somewhere. Dorava was pretty sure there was no one to see her, not that she really cared either. This was her moment. Her moment in the world that was worth living for. The world worth getting up predawn to see, enjoy, and become a part of her.

She stretched in the other direction now, arms flowing up past her head as she leaned over in a sinuous movement. For a breath she held it before moving on to flow gracefully to a new position, shifting her footing in due time of the motion to never be off balance.

There wasn't a whole lot to her garb yet. It was too early to be donning her riding leathers. Drills weren't yet started for the day. She would put them on in due time. For now, she wore only a short sleeveless blue shirt that was gathered about the bottom, leaving her midriff bare. If only because ... as slow as it might be, what she was doing could really whip a sweat on a body, and she wished to stay cool. Loose trousers of a light, grey material were the only other thing she had on, her hair in its customary thick braid down the back. Only today she'd decided to french braid it down the back of her head, instead of tying it into a runner tail and then braiding the remainder. The end was tied off with a short bit of black ribbon, dancing about near her hips when she straightened enough for it to follow gravity anywhere near her spine.

She should probably cut her hair. Unbraided it was even longer. But then, she'd been telling herself that for turns. She hadn't done it yet. For thread flight it was coiled around her head under her helmet, out of the way. So it wasn't much of a problem there.

Bringing herself upright again, Dorava stretched upward, up onto her toes, before settling back down to a relaxed standing position, hands dropping to prop on her hips. For a time she just stood there and looked out at everything, with nary a thought in her head. For a moment the peace lived on in her mind.

Then a rather unhappy thought from Aonith's sleeping form invaded rather rudely. Inocenth. Not exactly what she'd been expecting to suddenly picture in her mind. But understandable ... the green had been just a touch upset that she didn't quite know where the blue was of late. Shaking her head, Dorava grabbed her braid and flicked it behind her shoulder and turned to pad silently back into her weyr as the last of the rainbows faded in the growing sunlight.

The water was gold, oh Faranth it was cold. But she toweled off anyway with the wet rag. Throwing it over the back of a chair, she walked out into the hallway. Might as well go get breakfast before drills started. She marveled at the texture of the hall floor as she walked, wiggling her toes as she went. For whatever reason, she'd never wandered around barefoot before. Not in the Weyr itself anyway. Passing like a ghost in the dimming, exhausted glows, she made her way to the mainhall to swipe a few fresh, hot sticky buns. Still too hot to tear into with her fingers, she decided to take them back to her weyr. By the time she got there, they would be that just right temperature. Warm and sticky, but not so hot as to sear the roof of her mouth ... or her fingers. Grabbing a pitcher of warm klah, she set off back down the hallway again, a small smile playing upon her features.

Life was good, when it wasn't in upheaval. When she didn't have a thought to bring a care to mind.

On her way back up, her thoughts went over the routine she'd accomplished this morning, picking out places where she knew she'd slipped off balance a bit. Places where she'd have to improve. Other places she could try to push a tad further. There was a point to the exercise ... to build stamina and strength to her muscles, all while building her sense of balance. Never mind she was already pretty good with balance. Everyone had room for improvement.

The train of thought led her to think of something else, though. A time when she'd suggested the sort of thing, maybe a tad different, to Mi'rah. To help him get his gimp under control. With that thought, she unconsciously turned her steps in that direction, never quite making it to her own weyr.

Once she arrived at his door, she came back to the now and realized where she was standing. For a moment she blinked, and then looked at the things she carried. Eh ... what was she doing here? She'd see him soon enough at drills, why had she come here? Oh well. She was here. Might as well wake him up, make him grumpy. Maybe give him the klah to mollify him afterward. What then? She had no idea. But shard it. Might as well roll with it.

So balancing on one foot with a plate of sticky buns in one hand and a pitcher of klah in the other, she banged on his door with the heel of her toes. A rather awful sounding thudding that created, and Dorava winced a bit before returning both feet to the floor.

Okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

[Lotty]

Waking up. Nobody liked waking up; to be jolted from a nice slumber and a sweet dream. To have not a care in the world and then be roused into reality where there was work to be done and duties to uphold. When one went from fantasy land to the harsh truth that was life on Pern, it was no wonder that a man would be grumpy. The fact of the matter was however that a prerequisite to waking up was that one had to be asleep first. Mi'rah wasn't asleep. He hadn't for a good few hours...hours that melded into well over a day, and if one were to excuse the times he had passed out in his chair then one could argue that he had been a bit of a walking zombie ever since the Wasteland take over. Appropriate, because as far as he was concerned, he had died all over again.

And he still had drills to run...

Everything about this was the worst.

Drifting off to sleep at this point was not an option. Nor was tuning out Kierjaarth's broken record about Rajnith, or Doppelganger's longing for Mimic, or even squelching his own worries over Tenlie amongst other things ...if anything a knock at the door was welcome even if it was particularly loud and did distract from his studious observation of the door's wood grain. Not that he would show any thankfulness, instead he let out a breathy sigh, one mostly inaudible to human ears, and called out to the person beyond the door, "J-just a minute please," all the while forcing himself to get up. Up up up! Who knew exactly what was waiting for him beyond the threshold after all.

One pajama-ed leg hit the floor, and was slowly met by another that fell into line much sloppier and looser. His body began to follow suit, but his hair was another story all together; sticky and smooshed in places while cowlicks were free to have their way in others. Case in point: a sprig of taupe-ish colored hair was unapologetically sticking up from the back of his head. The swelling of his face had at least gone down, and his nose had been somewhat reset by the healers since his little "run in" with Ba'sun, but he still looked every bit as beat up as one could possibly be. Paired with that sloppy white night shirt and threadbare brown robe he tossed on for appearance, he hardly looked the part of a man who strove for mathematical perfection in every day life. But life was hard and he was in the midst of a major existential funk. One could only ask so much of him.

Opening the door he was surprised see Dorava and not a superior as his Bendenite brain had trained him to expect, and his head immediately drifted off to the side sleepily as he examined her hands; the contents not effectively registering in his mind, "G-good morning?" He sort of wanted to collapse on her, but instead opted for the door frame as he invited the woman in. It wasn't safe after all, for him to have his speech impediments bouncing up and down the halls, "Sit for a minute?" That was allowed wasn't it?

[dragon]

Dorava had expected to see Mi'rah answer the door. What she hadn't expected was a Mi'rah that looked like he'd been run over by a whole tithe train. Shardit ... maybe she should have let him sleep in. "Good morning." She answered, stepping over the threshold. She was beyond any backing out now ... he was awake and up. Might as well not make it worse by leaving again. She walked over to the nearest hard surface not otherwise occupied by something, and set down the jug of klah. "I thought I'd ..." what? " ... bring you breakfast." Well ... lame, but it worked. At least she did have said breakfast. Keep it from being too bad.

Turning, she looked at Mi'rah again. Faranth he looked bad. Of course, she'd seen him every day, but today he just looked ... well ... bad. The state of the rest of him made his face look even worse than usual. "I have some ... rolls. Stickybuns actually. I don't know if you like those, but they were warm." She offered. Hot was more the operative word, or at least it had been when she'd picked them up. Now? Who knew. She hadn't touched them yet to determine how much they had ... or hadn't ... cooled off. The klah was still good, she knew that. "And some klah, too. Thought maybe it would help."

Feeling a tad awkward now, she folded her hands together before taking a quick glance around. Spying a chair, she unfolded her hands again and grabbed it to drag over. "Sit. You look terrible." Probably not the best thing in the world to say, but it was the truth. Faranth was it the truth. A second glance told her a little more; it didn't look like he'd been sleeping. Really, everything was mussed, but she didn't see any signs of sleep having happened. Unless Mi'rah was one of those that slept hanging upside down from the ceiling or something equally bizarre.

[Lotty]

Breakfast? He sort of cocked his head. He didn't normally eat in front of people. It made him nervous - that feeling of vulnerability, the idea that just anyone could point at him and snicker and say "thats why you're fat". He hadn't agonized over it as much in recent turns, but the appearance of Wastelanders (or rather for him, the re-appearance of some rather terrifying Benden ghosts) had him reeling from the rest of the Weyr and taking up his old peculiar habits. He had to pinch himself sometimes and remind himself that he wasn't a scared twenty something in C'leon's office. In this case he had to remind himself that Dorava was unlikely to say anything mean to him.

Rubbing the back of his head he sleepily followed her in, nearly banging his head on the door frame, but careful to close the door behind himself with little fanfare. He was only picking out bits and pieces of what the woman was saying. Keywords really stuck out to him and he like a monosyllabic caveman mumbled something along the lines of, "Klah's good," as he considered the stickybuns. He wouldn't mind one really, it just felt much too decadent while he was trying to be miserable. With a decided change of direction he walked over to a table and meticulously began moving his books and papers to make room for the breakfast.

Of course he was notoriously clumsy and early morning was no exception. As soon as he dropped a handful of hides he gave up ad left it for the greenrider to deal with it, making a zombie walk over to the offered chair and replying to her quip with a comment that could almost be mistaken for a joke, "Terrible...You've never seen me try and grow a mustache then," a comment that really couldn't go without elaboration. In his youthful innocence he was of the mind that he could and should grow something of a dignified beard...that was until his then wingleader N'na told him he looked like a deranged pervert. The man had never been away from a razor blade ever since.

"What are you doing up so early? There is no drills for at least...." well until he so decided, but he typically did follow a strict schedule, "a couple of hours...." he wasn't going to ask if everything was ok. THAT was a stupid question. Doppelganger meanwhile popped up from the inside of Mi'rah's shirt - he was just so warm and cuddly - and greeted the strange woman. He didn't know this one! HI! Rahmine's friendly?

[dragon]

Goodness, she really must have awakened him from a rather deep legarthy if not actual sleep. She was quick to do whatever it was he looked like he was trying to accomplish before finally settling into a chair. Picking up dropped items and sort of heaping them precariously atop other heaped items, she soon had his new mess and some of the old mess moved aside where it wouldn't get ruined. Goodness ... but she'd never been in this room before to even know what it looked like normally. So she couldn't make any educated guesses as to just how shambled it was. Klah and rolls safely settled on a more or less flat and hard surface (a few parchments in between didn't count), she looked at him a bit more directly.

"A moustache?" She asked, a but bemused, the corner of her mouth tipping upward. He'd said klah was good, so she rooted around until she found something to pour some into, wiped out the inside with a finger just to be sure, blew it out and then filled it with some of the warm liquid. This, she offered to him. "Don't drop it." she said, carefully turning it so he could grab the handle instead of trying to grab the smooth side. She said it not as a jab at his usual semi-perceived clumsiness, but more out of he looked like he would have a hard time holding his head up if it weren't attached to his neck. "But seriously, Mi'rah. You look like you haven't slept in a week. Much less this last night. Drink, it'll make you look better if not feel better." If only for the increase in circulation that might reduce the pale factor in his features.

My she was being bossy. This ... really wasn't normal for her. But, there were a few reasons why ... he looked like runnershit for one. And she had been training as a Healer at one time. So ... oh well. If he objected he could always tell her to leave, she supposed. At least he was sitting again, and not appearing as if he was just going to totter and fall.

At his question, she paused, and tugged on the bottom edge of her shirt for a moment, thoughtfully. "I am normally up early, unless I'm not feeling good." She answered. "Exercising, things of that nature. I don't just get out of bed in time to be late for drills, you know." Again she tipped a half smile, trying to lighten the conversation with a bit of humor. Really, she was used to being far busier than she now was. Either infirmary duty, or searching duty or something. This business of just being a wingrider and that was it ... it left her with gobs of free time that she had to figure out what to do with. "I know when drills are." She assured him, before peeling one of the sticky buns away from the group and offering it to him. "I'd like it if you'd eat." Yes, she'd noticed that he hadn't mentioned the food at all ... just the klah. She also knew that an overabundance of 'orders' wasn't liable to get anywhere ... so she asked nicely.

At the sudden appearance of the little brown, however, she went completely still, gaze fixed on the small creature. After a moment some portions of her face moved, but only minutely. Finally, she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, as she shoved the pangs of loss back down into the small dark corners of her consciousness where she tried to keep it locked. "Well hello there." She answered, cheerily, if a tad bit touch of strain did color her otherwise cheerful voice and features. "And this is?" She asked, deliberately redirecting her gaze away from the mandyr and back toward Mi'rah.

[Lotty]

"Yeah...it's a long story, just....it just looked very, very bad. I was....I had to have been nineteen? Twenty?" It wasn't so much that he couldn't remember as so much he just didn't want to remember, and while in his age things could have changed, he wasn't willing to take that kind of risk. Bare faced forever was his decision, and besides it kept up his youthful composure, even if his current pallor and exhaustion did little to help, "I t-tried to grow some facial hair and was promptly. I mean promptly told I looked....looked like a creep," and he shrugged before reaching to take the cup and hook the handle around his fingers.

He took a drink and thought very little of the fact that he was being bossed around. That kind of feeling was almost second nature again, and being so tired left him vulnerable to other people's commands. Maybe trying to lead anything much less a wing was a bad idea for him, and he began to wonder if he was under the three strikes and you are a live target rule. Would feeling so bad be a legitimate excuse? Who would know if he was the one who took care of attendance? Bah it was all theoretics, and he was more interested in sucking down the klah in the hopes that it would make him feel better, "I look that way because I probably haven't slept in a week. My brain just won't shut off."

The sticky buns were given a glare as she pulled one away and offered it to him. He was busy with klah thank you very much, but as not to be rude he took the snack and held it in the opposite hand of his drink all the while inwardly cringing at how melty sweetener was now rolling down his fingers. Gross. Now not only did he have to eat in front of someone else, but he had to lick up the mess too and well that just made him so uncomfortable, "But...I'm not hungry," it was borderline whining as he considered his method of attack on the roll. Should he just shovel it in and be done with it? No, the he would definitely look like a fat herdbeast. Maybe he should pick at it little by little but then that would become so messy and there would be crumbs. Not fair, that is unless, "If I have to eat then you have to eat one too."

Ultimatums. He was not always the best at giving them.

Doppelganger had gone mostly unnoticed, if only because the brown mainly stayed out of trouble. He had little idea of any pain the mandyr might have been causing Dorava if only because Mi'rah was much too oblivious to know all of the pets that belonged to his wingriders and he definitely didn't know when they met their demises. That was personal, those kinds of woes were what he usually left to his Wingsecond. Sorry G'tor, but Mi'rah was not well equipped to deal with people's more erratic emotions. With little thought the bronzerider answered, "That's Doppelganger. Peccadillo is mostly nasty, but Doppel is a sweetheart. He loves shiny things, babies, and most of all his twin brother. He has been quite upset without Mimic...one of the many factors in my inability to sleep."

[dragon]

"Like a creep?" Dorava repeated doubtfully. "I don't think I'd go that far. Besides don't you know definitions like that are based solely on opinions and two different people can have two very different opinions on the self same thing? Anyway, my point is ... I doubt it was that bad. Not that I'm trying to convince you to do anything differently, mind you. You do whatever you're comfortable with." Still, his story was a little funny. Even if it wasn't supposed to be.

She was both pleased that he took the klah, and surprised at the fervent way in which he attacked it. Really, was he that thirsty? Sheesh. When he lowered the mug from his valiant attempt to empty it, she leaned over with the pitcher and refilled it again. Mi'rah seemed somewhat amiable toward doing what she told him to do, which also surprised her. She wasn't accustomed to anyone listening to anything she said, much less following it. Very odd feeling, that was. To be obeyed. "You haven't slept in a week?" Dorava asked, more than slightly horrified. The sentiment registered on her face, as well, blatantly revealed. "Mi'rah, you do realize that that's pushing fatal, right?" Maybe he didn't know that, but it didn't make the result any different. "I ... I can get you something to help you sleep. A tea. You need to sleep. You shouldn't be flying or walking or, Faranth forbid, betweening while sleep deprived." She was completely unable to escape the slightly scolding tone that edged into her voice. But really she was worried for his welfare more than anything else. "Why didn't you say anything if you weren't sleeping?"

Not hungry. And looking like he did, with no sleep behind him ... Dorava found that very hard to believe. But what could she do? She'd already pushed him pretty far this morning, making him to stuff. What could she do? Dorava balked for a moment, not sure what to do with his refusal of the food, even though he'd actually taken the thing. What to do? At a loss to what to do, she was quite surprised by his condition offered afterward. "... me?" She asked, surprised. "Oh, well." straightening, she reached over and peeled another bun away from the rest, and offered it up in a tiny salute. "Then eat one I shall." Lowering it slightly, she considered the roll for a moment, before finding the end of the spiral rolled sticky bread, and picked at that edge with her fingers. It came apart readily enough, and she broke a section off of the outside of the roll, following the twist of the rolled dough. A few dried fruit bits were revealed as the outer layer fell away, and she was careful to catch those lest they get away. Popping the piece into her mouth to chew, she looked at Mi'rah expectantly. Goodness, but she felt really funny ... it was almost like trying to coax a cranky child to eat, not her wingleader!

Maybe men really did never grow up.

Dorava looked at Doppleganger again, and then nodded. "I've met Piccadillo, I remember her temperament." She confirmed. "So this is the sweet one then?" Hm, so the mandyr was a factor in Mi'rah's inability to sleep. That ... wasn't good. Tea would help but it would still be a fitful sleep in that case. She would have to figure out some way to get the 'mandyr to understand he was hurting his person, fretting like that. "Let's see if he can get any sweeter." She joked, busting off another - if considerably smaller - bit of roll, and offering the spice and sweetly sticky confection to the little brown. "Want some?"

[Lotty]

"Well... it's a moot point, I'm never going for that look again, even should it be an order of..." he trailed off, still very bitter about the takeover and he doubted that he would ever be ok about it at all really and he bit his tongue. A pained moment later, he excused his blabbering mouth and took a reluctant bite of the stickybun, though he was embarrassed to note that he had to force a fake smile onto his face for the sake of being polite. Even if it tasted good, his stomach was still in revolt, if he couldn't eat before then he definitely couldn't now that his mind was on how everything in his life had gone wrong. Swallowing, he considered half of the roll a job well done and set the left overs back on the plate while he debated a way to get the sticky off of his fingers. If only he was wearing real clothes, there would be bound to be a handkerchief in there somewhere, as it was he meekly licked his fingers just at the tips to remove that gross sensation.

He was quick to wave off Dorava's concerns a moment later, "A week, a few days... leave a man to his hyperbole, I'm sleeping enough to stay alive," albeit not very functional, but breathing and heart beating nonetheless, "I don't tell anyone because there is nobody around," anymore, "that is going to care. I'm sure that the Wastelanders' hearts will pump purple piss for me should I meet my demise," he was grouchy to say the least, and though it was no fault of Dorava's she was just unfortunate enough to meet the man at a very sensitive time. He typically wasn't so...morbid or rude or dark in general, but he couldn't very well laugh or smile as per usual. Being on his wing though she should know by now that cynicism was not his usual thing.

Note that he didn't outright deny the offer for the tea. As he sunk deeper into his seat he thought about how nice it would be to sleep...and not just a nap as he had been prone to as of lately, but a real legitimate rest. The concept was alluring, but he realized that it may not be in his interest to ask after being so rude, "I apologize Dorava....if I sound awfully cross with you. I'm worried...about things," and people especially, but like a typical male he wasn't quick to go into details, he didn't want to sound whiney after all, "I know that is hardly an excuse all things considered. Everyone has their concerns now. I just can't help but think that I should have been able to prevent at least some of this..." he stopped knowing he already spilled too much, he already started a pity party. He hadn't meant to at all, and he feared that the woman would read too much into him as being emotional now.

Faranth no therapy sessions please.

"I don't know how much sweeter Doppel can get..." he replied watching as the long bodied mandyr popped over to the bit of roll and took it after an inspective lick. He might have taken a bite for himself, but the leftovers were very decidedly for Mimic. Just like everything else he had been encountering lately too. By now there was a second pile accumulating in addition to the pack rat's original one. For Mimiclove yes, keep. Thank you Rah-friendly. Mi'rah sort of rested his face in his hand as the perpetual motion machine hoped off in the direction of his collection.

[dragon]

Dorava listened to what Mi'rah said, and was actually a tad surprised that he was willing to say so much. Especially to her of all people. She placidly discombobulated her roll, eating it bit by bit as he talked, watching and listening. Finally, as he wound down to silence, again, she lifted one shoulder slightly in a not-quite-a-shrug gesture. "I don't give a tunnelsnakes' tail what our new leadership thinks." She stated quite bluntly. "They're a bunch of morons if they think this method of acquiring a Weyr is any kind of successful method. It just breeds ... whatdoyoucallit. Discord, malcontent. That sort of stuff." She gestured loosely toward him as a sort-of example. "Not loyalty. All that aside, we care, Mi'rah. Those of us who are left. The wing. We care about you. Speaking for myself, I'd be a tad upset if you took the coward's way out." And it was true. Besides how it would be rather demoralizing to suddenly lose their wingleader.

"But really. No apology necessary. I understand." She answered, with a small, true shrug. "I completely understand. I recently had to go find someone to cry on myself, before I could get it back to any kind of facade of semblance of order. So don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone if you won't." She offered a small smile, trying to lift his mood even if only a little bit.

"As for the rest of it?" Dorava looked toward the ledge, and sighed slowly. "Live to fight another day is the only thing I can figure." She looked at him again, mind racing through all the various things she could go get that might help him get the rest he needed. "We're here, remember. You're not alone." Somewhat surprised to discover she'd wiped out the last, center section of her roll, she licked the sweetness off of her fingers, and where it'd drooled down in between. Agh, but she was going to need to wash now. Sweet stickiness never really did lick off completely.

Somewhat amused by the mandyr's antics, Dorava shrugged at his notion of stashing a section of sweetroll. "Your quarters are going to start smelling really interesting if he does a lot of that." She nodded at his retreating tail. Note to self: don't encourage this by giving him more. "You were supposed to eat that yourself, silly. I have a whole other roll I'm saving for your friend." She sent after the mandyr, hoping he would stop with the stashing of the section, and just eat it.

Getting off of the edge of the table she was leaning on, Dorava wiped her hands off on her pantlegs in an effort to get most of the residue off of her fingers. It worked, mostly. In lieu of water, it would have to do. Walking over toward where Mi'rah was slumped in his chair, she stepped around behind him and gently touched his shoulders with her fingers. "More than anything, Mi'rah, I think you need to relax. The world isn't ending today, I promise." She started gently massaging his shoulders, knowing that with all the stress of late, he was bound to be so knotted up he could hardly move with any kind of ease.

That, and maybe, Faranth willing ... all he needed to sleep was a massage. It worked, for some people.

[Lotty]

"Well...it isn't the worst method. It's just not the tactic I would have used..." he said in regards to the Wastelanders' strategy. Was it bad that in all of his grandiose battle plans he had it exactly worked out how he would conquer another Weyr? He wasn't about to go into it with the greenrider, but he liked to call it colonization as opposed to invasion and it was a slow methodical process. One he would never undertake...the brains were there, but never the desire, he cared little about presiding over an entire force of dragons. One wing was exactly enough for him and as it was he was rueful of his own abilities to command that much. Despite what the woman was saying to him he doubted the loyalty of his wingriders outside of G'tor and herself, "How loyal can they be Dorava? How can anyone think highly of me at all when we failed as a wing...they came and we did nothing. I suck." And he had the paranoid feeling that nobody left trusted him, a particularly painful conclusion considering he had his chance to escape and never took it.

Sighing, again, and more heavily than before he then so cynically commented, "But I am a coward. Isn't that what everyone says about me?" Not that he had been contemplating any type of suicide before this, if anything he was just as likely to die by lightening strike or a sudden seafood allergy as he was by his own hands and really he didn't want to play into the rest of the Weyr's expectations. It would be much too routine, it would make entirely too much sense for someone like him and for just once he wanted desperately to wow everyone. He had crazy inklings of how he could do just that, but nothing that would materialize into an actual plan. Just fantasies was all.

"Hmmm. I'm uhm reluctant to take away his pile..." he began to explain, "I ruined it not long ago..." for a flight...definitely stole some of Doppelganger's best shinies and he was ashamed of this. It was like taking candy from a baby, so wrong, "S-sometimes I clean out the bigger messes but just a snippet of roll like that will turn to dust before it reeks, so I see little harm in it." Doppel seemed to agree with his owner and frilled goofily at Dorava from his spot wayyy across the room. What was she thinking? Mimic wouldn't want the whole roll and nicely as he could let the greenrider down, No, no! This best. Doppel-brother keep...licked, tastes good.

Distracted by the brown mandyr he missed the woman getting up and moving around to give him a...."What are you doing?" He wasn't alarmed or being contrary, he was more so surprised. Human contact that was not preceded by a flight? What the shards was going on? Rather than fall into her hands he instead decided to change the subject, "The world is ending though...maybe not tomorrow, but maybe the day after tomorrow and that makes it even worse....and and..uhm..." he was at a loss for words, "If you keep this up I'll definitely fall asleep and then I won't make it to drills and then poor G'tor will be stuck running them and...uhm. Then he'll hate me for sleeping and leaving him to do the work."

[dragon]

Dorava thought about what he said for a moment, trying to make an effort to do something besides open her mouth and insert her foot all the way up to the hip. It was possible that she, too, was yearning to break out of the mold that she was seemingly stuck in? "Well, I imagine everyone would do it differently. But, really. Don't be so down on yourself. Be logical." She could say that no one had murdered him yet, but that was probably not a good thing to say. Paranoid as he already was. "We're all still here, we're still a wing, are we not? As for not doing anything... it's hard to do anything as a wing when the Queen orders all the dragons grounded. The best we could have done was run around and gotten ourselves knifed, and you know it. It was hardly your fault. We did nothing, but there was nothing we could do. As a result, we are still alive, we are still together, and in the future, maybe we can do something about it. When the wind blows in our favor, hey?" It really was sad when the wingleader was the one needing the peptalk, not the one giving it. But everyone had their days. She wouldn't tell anyone about it. He needed every bit of face saved, the way he was tearing at it himself.

"I have not heard one soul utter a single peep about anything even slightly related to your courage levels." She answered, plainly and honestly. She did not say, however, that she didn't talk to people either. That would just ruin the whole effect. Really. "Keep your chin up, walk the walk. My ma used to say that if you're going to walk into a room, walk into it like you own it." Not that she had ever figured out how to do that, exactly.... but it had worked for her ma. Nevermind her ma had never really left the vicinity of the Hold either. She had commanded the respect of all of her husband's workers though.

Dorava could definitely sympathize with the troubles of interfering with mandyr plans. So she merely nodded and shrugged slightly. "If it doesn't bother you I guess. More power to him." She did smile slightly at the goofy way the little brown was looking. "Nice job, Doppel. I bet your friend will really like it a whole bunches." she praised, knowing that if the pet felt good, the feeling would overflow and probably help Mi'rah out too. Making him feel better about himself was probably very necessary right now. Gosh, but all this thinking in circles was difficult. She really wasn't cut out to try her hand at mind healing. Really.

Dorava laughed lightly. "It's called a massage, Mi'rah. Surely you've had one before." She answered, gently working her fingers across the meat of his shoulders. At least he hadn't had a hostile reaction for it, even if he did seem confused about the whole thing. So long as he didn't outright yank away - which she didn't really think he was capable of doing in his current state - she would keep on. "The world is not ending, if it ever does get around to ending it probably won't be in our lifetimes. Okay? So far as G'tor, I really don't think he'll mind that much. If he does, I'll take care of it. You need the sleep." Dorava was more than a little glad to hear his admission to being sleepy. It was what he needed. More than anything else that anyone could offer him. Food, sleep, rest. It was all good. "I'll tell him it's my fault, okay?"

[Lotty]

Ok, so it was a little hard to argue with someone who was giving you a massage. The endorphins did a lot to quell whatever frustration the man naturally felt when backed into a logical corner. He didn't like being told to be 'logical' because of course he thought himself the most logical of men, and though it was quite irksome to his ears - because certainly in a world made of great alternatives there had to be something that could have been done - he leaned into the hands like she was a miracle worker. All the while Kierjaarth nagged on him about this and that, Don't you know Rahmine that no matter what choices you make you will regret them, the important part is that you make choices at all. I believe I've told you this before... alot of times maybe. Don't start with me on your existentialism. Exista-what? Do not cheat by using your big empty words... Its always a contest with you.

He sighed heavily, between his dragon and his nonsense and Dorava sweetening up the truth for him, he certainly felt like he was at a loss and was going to get nowhere with anything he said, "You're very kind to me...and it is...its nice of you to say all this to me but..." he trailed off never really meaning to finish his thought. He had intended to tell her that she was just putting make up on his obvious flaws, but that would betray the original premise... the part where he had called her kind. He instead resigned to her wishes and feigned some sort of positivity; reaching up and catching one of the woman's hands to pat it briefly. "I certainly hope you are right Dorava..."

Doppelganger meanwhile had effectively rearranged the piles to his liking and had scurried his way back over to where the two riders were, happy to return love to the greenrider in exchange for the praise. The brown climbed up onto her shoulder even, all the while crooning, Mimiclove not friendly...eggbrotherlove. You friendly! You Rah-friendy... A tongue reached out to lap at the skin of her neck as he happened to do to wayyy to many women he had met. Friendly taste good! Rahmine taste! Words to wake him up, that was for sure. To think that he might have been on his way to slumberland, "W-wha...Doppel no. Stop asking me that and stop doing that to people...I just..." he twitched and shot out of his seat, "Not to say...I'm just. You don't want me licking you.." and he sort of wobbled with his unsteady stance until he unfortunately blurted, "Take me to bed..."

He was horrified to realize what he had just said, and it didn't help when the sentiments were echoed by Kierjaarth, Oh? But what about Rajnith's? His mouth dropped and his hands reached out in front on him, palms forward, "No Faranth I don't mean it that way! Nothing against you...I-I-I am going to start...stop. Um...I'm not talking from now on," he wanted to hide in his robe...just curl up there forever and hope that some day he wasn't cursed with the worst of tongues. Spontaneous combustion would be a really nice sort of fate right about now.

[dragon]

Dorava smiled contentedly when her efforts seemed to be working. He was starting to finally relax, unwind a bit. Even if he wasn't really putting much effort into being understandable at the moment. But that was alright. That was the point, after all. Mi'rah needed to relax, get some sleep. Of course it pleased her to no end that her efforts were actually going in the right direction instead of backfiring like usual. Poor Mi'rah needed all the help he could get.

"You wait and see." She assured him, though anything else she might have said was cut off by having Doppleganger clamber up her arm and lick her on the neck. "Oh!" The clambering she was used to - she'd had a posse of pets herself. Two of the mandyrs. But to get licked? On the neck? She twitched to the side, already reaching for the little brown even as Mi'rah lurched to his feet. "Don't do that!" She squeaked. It wasn't something she freely admitted to people but her neck was a rather sensitive thing, and getting it licked just messed her up and sent tingles all up and down her spine. Her attempt to grab the tiny creature was completely halted by what Mi'rah said afterward though. Paused mid-motion, she blinked and looked at him, not quite sure she'd heard him right.

But she had. Judging by the stumbling spiel that fell out of his mouth afterward. Which... was just too funny. Dorava laughed lightly, and finished her motion of taking Doppleganger off her shoulder. Gently setting him down on the nearest surface that was semi horizontal, she picked up the chair that Mi'rah had been sitting in and set it to one side. "Don't worry about it Mi'rah. I understand you're tired... and I understand pets. I do." She chuckled. "But, all that aside, you do have a very good point." He looked like she often felt like, and she was sad to admit it, but she found it funny. She completely understood the feeling of wanting the ground to open up and swallow a body whole, so she wasn't going to antagonize him about it. He was tired, and he really did need to go to bed.

The poor guy looked like he was going to fall flat on his face at any moment. Between being exhausted, half-massaged, and having a bad leg ... it wasn't a good combination. Trying to be helpful even still, she stepped over to his furs. Lifting them, she shook them out. Sometimes there was no telling what people kept in their beds, and it was better to make sure they were clear. Especially given when there was a packrat pet like Doppleganger around. Once she was sure the bedding was clear of any potentially sharp (or squishy) articles, she stepped back and reached out to take Mi'rah's elbow with one hand even though she half expected him to move away. "Come on, you need to rest." The last thing she wanted was to leave him staggering around like that, where he could potentially crash into something and make his list of grievances even longer.

It was too bad that he was so badly injured, so worn out, and her wingleader. That was honestly the first time any fellow had made that request of her. But this was no time for wistful thinking, much less in any such direction as that! It just ... figured. That when the request came around, her conscience kept her from obliging. Ah well. Such was life. He'd probably never ask again when he was healthy, either.

[Lotty]

Sharding Doppelganger. The brown had him standing there awkwardly in his own weyr, and Dorava airing out his sheets. At least there was nothing horribly incriminating in there, it wasn't like he was sleeping in there, and when he was that was all that happened. Just sleep. Besides, he couldn't be too mad at the salamandyr, he knew that he felt awfully guilty for all the trouble, and the little guy had even gone as far as to jump up onto his shoulder and nuzzle there against his neck. Doppel sorry Rahrah. Love youuuu~ "I love you too you little bugger..." it was whispered back, but the sentiment was all the same as if he yelled it off a mountain top.

Now as for the greenrider. Well he was sure that he put her in quite the pickle. He did just - however innocently and accidentally - proposition her, and then quickly took it back. Awkward. The bronzerider had never claimed to be very good with social affairs, and this was no different. He tried to brush it all off with a joke regardless of the fact that he was completely awful at those too, "Oh, are you checking my bed for tunnelsnakes now? Are you going to look under the bed for the boogie man too?" He shuffled there for a moment not really knowing what else to say before having his arm taken and led to the bed where he plopped down on the edge not ready to fall asleep.

"I'm sorry, I'm an awkward person and it sucks everyone...its...uhm. Like a black hole of unbearably maladroit bungling...." but he was probably sure that he had told her this before and she refuted it. By now he should have learned to stop beating a dead horse, "Anyway, you are going to tell G'tor I am sorry yes? And uh... tell him not to teach anybody anything we learned before the wings were rearranged, all of those plans were specifically for the old wing and ugh..." it was like the thought alone gave him a migraine. Must. Stop. Thinking.

He had barely managed to shuck his robe off before he was teetering over onto his side and the safety of a pillow. He had wished to stay afloat longer, but alas he had seemed to get more and more sleepy every time Dorava made mention of it. Into his pillow he made an exasperated declaration, "I'm going to kill him. Ruining my life like this..." he peeked his eyes over to see if she was even still around. he hadn't noticed her leave or anything but he wouldn't have blamed her if she wanted out.

[dragon]

In a weyr that was mostly silent, even a whisper was like a thunderclap, and Dorava glanced over at him from what she was doing. At least this time he was talking to his pet, and not her. That could have been really strange to have to answer! She smiled though, at the expression that went with the words. Now that was completely adorable!

And so was his attempt at a joke, but she played along with it. "Yes, of course! I never really did like tunnelsnakes. They give me weird dreams when they start twisting around my legs. You know? Of course getting awakened abruptly by the boogie man never helped any either." She glanced at him, with a grin on her face before checking under the bed, too. Just for kicks and giggles. The man needed a little humor in his life, that was for sure.

Dorava was honestly surprised when he sat on the bed without much resistance. But she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth either. He was going to bed, that was all that mattered. She nodded at his instructions, not bothering to even acknowledge more of the self depreciation he was spewing. He was just tired. He'd be better in a few hours. "I'm sure he knows already, but I'll tell him." She assured him, picking up his furs and pulling them up over him as he rolled over and laid down. Pillows ... such wonderful things. Draping the upper edge across his shoulder and folding it back down just a bit, she hesitated at the last thing he had to say.

Kill him ... she hoped he was meaning their new Weyrleader and not G'tor. That was the logical assumption anyway. Leaning over so she could see his face - and consequently the peek too, making her grin again, she answered; "Let me know when and I'll help." Dorava dropped a light kiss on his cheek, patted his shoulder lightly, and then straightened to go dim the glows that were lighting the room.

Drills weren't for another few candlemarks, so she fully planned on staying until she absolutely had to leave to get ready. Just to make sure he actually did get some rest even if it was only laying there in the dark. No getting up once she was gone, no sir. He needed to sleep.