Tornado Weyrling Wing

[Tashe]

Stretching his arms above his head with a sort of stiff relaxation, the Wingleader rocked back slightly before using his weight to bring himself up onto his feet. Straightening up from his crouch, F'rah slowly popped his joints, listening to the soft cracks that resulted. /Have a nice nap Rahmine?/ Why yes I actually did. /Well thats good... because you were supposed to call the Wing in for training about a quarter of a candle mark ago./ "WHAT? You didn't wake me up?!" /No. Because this is the second time you've done this and you deserve to be chastised for your lack of focus./ Damn it all. Quickly sound the call for the Weyrlings to assemble. /Sure thing./

/Weyrlings of the Tornado Wing, please assemble in the large meadow between the river and the jungle. It's time for training./

"Thanks a lot Styth. You're such a big help..." Jerking his head up slightly as a thought struck him, the Weyrlingmaster quickly patted down his pockets for a small leather satchel. After almost frantically missing it in one of his deeper pockets, F'rah sighed in relief as he pulled it out and into the light. /Almost thought you lost it didn't you?/ Oh be quiet. I made a mistake and I really don't need you of all beings to be making fun of me right now. /Sorry Rahmine. But you make it just so... easy sometimes./ Haha. Making an annoyed face at the Brownie colored Brown, the man abruptly turned so that he faced away from the dragon, proceeding only then to let out a sigh. He had been surprised when the Weyrwoman had upgraded him to a wingleader, but that emotion had foundered when he realized it was going to be a weyrling wing. It wasn't that he disliked working with weyrlings, it just felt a little to much like a Child's wing, a soft copy of one from Benden. But the amount of trust he had been willing to invest in Shmee told him that the Weyrwoman would do nothing of the sort, even though it looked so much like one.

"Now all we have to do is wait for them to arrive." Lifting the small pouch toward the sun, F'rah watched as the rays of light played tricks with the Selenitas symbol embossed onto the front.

--

Tornado Weyrling Wing
WL Brownrider F’rah of Styth
WS Bronzeweyrling C’lryn of Minoath
Brownweyrling R’lor of Yiminth
Blueweyrling Beka of Thoth
Greenweyrling K’lir of Calistoth
Greenweyrling Alaid of Aorath
Greenweyrling Cezine of Brennath

[randi]

We are being called to wing drills, came the voice of Aorath. The green flicked her tail, watching her bonded glancing at the sand-carrying box that contained her precious egg. She could sense Alaid's worry that the firelizard inside might Hatch while the girl was out, and, sadly, it had given the girl a legitimate excuse to stay within the barracks as long as she could be allowed to. Alaid whimpered, the green nuzzling at her gently. The little one will wait for you, she assured the girl, relieved when she tore her eyes from the box to nod.

Moments later and Aorath landed near the brown dragon, the green glancing the male over while Alaid shrunk on her back, trying to be as unnoticeable as she could be. She knew better than to try and run now, as this was something they had to do, but that didn't mean the scared girl would be happy about it. She'd be happier when they were in the air, though the idea of being open targets with distractions to keep others busy was not her idea of fun.

Calm, Mine. Aorath ordered, reminding the girl gently of the egg back in her room. Serving to calm her slightly, though she was still refusing to look at either the Weyrlingmaster or his dragon. However, she did straighten enough to be seen, her eyes lowered at the dark spot on Aorath's back. She could only hope that someone with whom she was familiar would be in the wing, but a cynical pit in her stomach told her that she would be surrounded by strangers, despite Aorath's snort and insistence that she was never surrounded by strangers, not while she was there.

[glamourie]

"Where's everyone going?"

K'lir squinted as he stepped to the end of his Weyr, not quite on the ledge but close. He'd just gotten dressed, and doubtlessly it showed, his hair tousled and falling all around his face. From his spot he could see at least one other dragon swooping down and away; Styth. Followed by another - but that wasn't Reysalth. Confusion painted its way across his features. Last he checked, Lauranna and F'rah were seeing one another. (Seeing as K'lir had been nursing something of a child-like crush on the greenrider, he made a point to keep track of what dragons caught Reysalth - without actually asking and appearing like a creepy stalker, anyway. He was fairly sure she'd not appreciate that.) Why was Alaid going to visit him.. alone...? Suspicious. He was tempted to hunt down Lauranna and ask her if she knew, but he settled for turning to look over his shoulder, at Calistoth who was pointedly sprawled across the Weyr.

"Do you know why F'rah is meeting with Alaid?"

Calistoth lifted her head and crooned before fluttering her wings - fully showing off, with no shame whatsoever, Styth said something about Tornado Wing drills. And she pointedly rolled over, as if that was the end of the discussion.

Unfortunately for her, K'lir's eyebrows met his hairline and he jumped visibly. "TORNADO WEYRLING WING DRILLS AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!" he shrieked, throwing the towel he'd been carrying (to dry his hair) to the floor. Across the weyr he dashed, flinging Showoff from his wrist and straight into his furs. A loud string of unpleasant curses erupted through his mind, but he ignored the protesting salamandyr to pull his riding gear on quickly. "That's us you wherry-brain, how come you didn't tell me?" All of his worry about Lauranna was completely brushed aside; funny how quickly his paranoia (and jealousy) parted. As soon as he got his boots on, he scattered back toward Calistoth, still ignoring Showoff, who was making it a point to leave no doubt to how angry he truly was. How dare his throw him. "WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

I didn't think it was that important, Calistoth replied haughtily. We can be late; what will they do, start without us? Laughable. You worry too much. I don't want to go to drills. I don't like Styth.

The yelling in the back of Lir's mind continued with Showoff's fury as the salamandyr scurried across the ground and displayed his frill vividly. THROW ME BAD DUNGHEAD THROW BAD DUNGHEAD! His vocabulary was far from impressive but the displayed frill and angry whirl in his eyes made it clear he was most offended. When they got back, doubtlessly Showoff would climb onto K'lir's back just between his shoulder blades where the greenrider could not remove him. He'd show him.

"You don't like any dragon that doesn't worship the ground you walk on. Or any people. Creatures. Living entities. Inanimate objects," K'lir commented as he climbed onto Calistoth. She grunted and flared her wings, clearly displeased, but stood up anyway. K'lir turned to look over at Showoff before pointing at him, "Sorry, Showoff - you can't come to drills! I'll see you later. You can, I don't know, bite my nose or something." He waved and Calistoth rumbled - clearly mocking the salamandyr - before throwing herself off the weyrledge. Her wings caught the air and she soared down to the practice grounds with startling ease. She was a lot of things, but graceless wasn't one of them.

BAD DUNGHEAD-MINE!

The shriek was the last K'lir heard from Showoff, and Calistoth landed neatly away from Styth and Aonith. Her wings flared and she lowered herself, but with no small amount of pride as her eyes whirled. Her gaze lingered on Styth, almost as if daring him to totally ignore her (not a wise choice considering her vicious streak), but she didn't speak. K'lir dismounted and then turned to nod politely to F'rah, but he didn't speak. He lingered near Calistoth to make sure that she didn't do anything he'd regret... like start trying to garter Styth's attention. Honestly, she had Thoth who worshiped her. Why wasn't he always good enough? Lir would be glad when Beka arrived. Thoth usually at least distracted her...

[boober]

“How’s that? Is that good?” C’lryn gave an experimental tug on the tightening lines of his fighting straps. Minoath shifted slightly, the tips of his tail swinging around slowly to curve across the stone of the ledge. He seemed almost to be thinking about the response.

Yes, Mine, that is good. Are you ready? Styth has called us for the drills. Nodding in response, C’lryn buckled and snapped the leathers briskly before giving them a test tug. His bronze waited patiently, knowing that His was only being thorough. It was a good habit to be in. If C’lryn was nervous about being appointed wingsecond, he did an excellent job at hiding it. Lifting his head, the bronze weyrling grinned up at his beast in his usual amiable manner before giving a final affectionate slap to the dragon’s shoulder.

“Yup! Let’s go.” With that, he jammed his helmet onto his head and vaulted astride Minoath, who got to his feet and stretched his wings before pointing his nose downward and tipping right off the ledge. Naturally, his large wings caught them easily and the bronze was gliding easily toward the meeting place with a few lazy wingbeats. There was no hurry; they weren’t late.


Mine, the Weyrlingmaster has called us. Brennath watched calmly as her rider dashed about the weyr in what looked very much like a panic. Cezine was indecisive for the first time since she’d Impressed her lovely green. Mine. You cannot simply not show. The green’s tone was almost gentle as she spoke to Hers, causing the young woman to stop and look at the dragon as if she’d forgotten the green was there. Finally she released her breath in a rush of air.

“Of course not. You’re right.”

But we must hurry; the call has already gone out. Brennath swished her tail somewhat anxiously, even as Hers nodded and stepped forward. In a few short minutes, Brennath was wearing the flighting straps and Cezine was pulling on her own gear. It wasn’t wing practice that Cezine was worried about. No, she had something far more pressing on her mind. Once she was ready, she mounted and Brennath pushed off, taking them to meet the rest of the wing. As soon as the green touched down, her rider slid down her shoulder and landed neatly on her feet. She hesitated only briefly before a nudge from Brennath sent her in F’rah’s direction.

Tugging off her helmet, Cezine nervously ran her fingers through her much shorter curls. “Weyrlingmaster, may I speak with you for a moment?” Going by voice alone, no one would have guessed that she was nervous at all; but the restlessness in her fingers gave it away. Well, hopefully it wouldn’t last very long. Really, she didn’t know what she was feeling so nervous about in the first place. She toled herself it was silly, and it helped. A little.

[missa]

We have drills. Mine? You can't take Anai you know that, come on Mine, we can't be late.
Who are you worried about displeasing, Calistoth or Styth. Beka of course, recieved no reply, just the patient croon as she took her very sweet time gathering things. Stupid riding jacket, it wasn't big enough, not at all, but if she stood on one side of Thoth it wouldn't show.
You're starting to get frustrating BekaMine. It's not a crime you know, you don't have to hide it.

Thoth of course, opted to land next to Calistoth, greeting her with a soft, almost adoring croon before crouching to let Beka off, despite the fact that she would end up haviong to talk to F'rah, just like Cezine. She wasn't saying a word to F'rah until Cezine was done though, assuming Thoth didn't show his new skills and blurt it out again. Leaning against Thoth's shoulder, Beka was sufficiantly surprised when teh blue grumbled mentally and shoved her gently.
You can't avoid huim forever, Calistoth's is a friend, besides, better talking to him than F'rah.

"Hello Lir." Despite Thoth's words, Beka was reluctant to actually talk, but another nudge had her moving closer. He'd lost Troublemaker not long ago, and it was mostly this reminder that made Beka feel surprisingly guilty as she reached out to tap K'lir's arm.
"How're you doing?" Managing to bring a smile up, Beka glanced over at Cezine and F'rah again, wondering if she could possibly use the need to talk to him as an excuse...

[Tashe]

"Styth why didn't you tell me about this?" Kneeling down so that he was eye level with the offending splinter, F'rah sighed loudly, it wasn't the first time Styth failed to mention a minor injury. /I was going to go to the DragonHealers after practice./ Geesh. You shouldn't wait. Standing so that he could retrieve the medical satchel in his saddlebag, the Weyrlingmaster felt the wind of the wings of an arriving dragon. Pausing to observe the Green land, F'rah gave a small wave before climbing his way up the side of his leathers to reach his bags. Sliding down a few moments later, the Wingleader watched two more of his weyrlings arrive before unclasping the top of the leather medical satchel. "I'll be with you all in a moment. I need to tend to a small injury..." Glancing unhappily up at his Brown, F'rah quickly moved toward the large splinter in the dragon's leg. "You know that because you failed to mention this to me before we are going to start even later now." /I'm sorry Rahmine./ "Its fine... I suppose."

---

/Ah good, you have arrived. It is good to see you all again... practice will assume shortly./ Announcing this to all of the collected Weyrlingdragons, he proceeded to greet each of them individually.

/Aorath./
/Calistoth./
/Minoath./
/Brennath./
/Thoth./

---

"Weyrlingmaster, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Looking up from the thin incision that he had just made, F'rah smiled before turning back to the mission at hand. "Hold on for one moment Hun." Gently working his sterile knife into the hard skin above the splinter, F'rah eventually was able to work the intruder out of Styth's leg. Extracting a gauze from inside the bag, F'rah wrapped and secured the cut before shouldering the bag and standing to face the young woman. "Its fine with me Cezine. What do you need?" Retrieving a small cloth from inside the kit, the Weyrlingmaster proceeded to wipe the ichor off of his hands.

(blech.)

[boober]

Cezine waited patiently, watching as F’rah apparently worked a splinter out of Styth’s leg. The green weyrling resisted the urge to give the brown a soothing pat; that looked like it hurt! And she knew from experience that splinters were never fun. Behind her, her green snorted and gave a rather short greeting to Styth in reply. But hopefully he would be used to her by now; not much had changed about Brennath’s attitude toward males, even though her first Flight had come and gone. Currently, only one blue in particular could get past the green’s chilly exterior.

The green rider’s thought process was disrupted when the Weyrlingmaster finally turned his attention to her, having finished prying the splinter from his dragon’s hide. “Ah, I was just wondering if we would be doing any jumps between today.” Cezine paused, almost as if waiting for F’rah to say something. Would he catch on, or would she have to come out and say it? It didn’t bother her either way, but she didn’t want to make him feel stupid by blurting out something that he might have seen as obvious.


On the other side of Styth, at a respectful distance, Minoath issued a polite greeting in return to the brown before looking to one side as his rider rechecked the fighting straps. You do not think all this attention to the straps to be excessive, Mine?

Hey, we’re wingseconds don’t forget. We should set an example.

To be obsessive? C’lryn looked up at his bronze pointedly, resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him.

Cautious, Minoath. You can’t be too careful you know. So there was a serious side to the bronzeweyrling after all. Minoath snorted. It was a rare thing indeed. But the bronze felt a vague sense of pride in His. Some people were foolish all the time; His was only foolish until something needed to be taken seriously. The ‘excessive’ strap checks were forgotten, and the bronze merely settled down to wait until the drills began, C’lryn leaning against him comfortably.