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Post by Maykat on Aug 8, 2010 10:46:50 GMT -5
Rolling bandages. If there was a worse chore, R'tel didn't know what it was. Mind numbing, repetitive, sedentary. He hated it. He also hated that he had to do chores at all. He still had another Turn of this nonsense. Ineth was no help; the green was playing in the ocean with two other young dragons and unintentionally rubbing R'tel's face in her freedom. He paused and shifted his vision to see through the green's eyes. She was under water, sneaking up on some brown. He sighed and refocused on his work. Sharding dragons had all the fun.
His head snapped up when two of the weyrlings that were supposed to be helping finally decided to enter. "There you are," he barked. "She's got us rolling bandages today." He nodded to the large hampers full of clean strips. "Wash your hands first, though."
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Post by Maykat on Aug 8, 2010 10:33:26 GMT -5
Batavia followed Tess, mentally cataloging the turns they made. Cerulean was certainly different from Southern. She knew northern Weyrs were carved into stone like Cerulean, but so far she wasn’t liking it very much. Her mood improved once she stepped into the infirmary. Being in her familiar world eased away her previous traces of claustrophobia. She relaxed and took a deep breath. All infirmaries smelled the same; redwort on top, numbweed in the middle and little bit of urine underneath everything, no matter how clean it was. She loved it.
Batavia followed Tess and dropped her bag in a corner of the office, out of the way. She surveyed the infirmary while Tess drew up a map. Pretty straightforward; like Tess had said they were all the same. It didn’t look like they had many patients, always a good thing. At the woman’s wave, Batavia joined her and leaned over, looking at the map. She paid special attention to the important stuff: kitchens mainly, also S’lain and Tess’s living areas and the quickest route from the candidate barracks to the infirmary.
“V’mio’s usually good about letting me put dragonhealing before the candidate stuff, at least until the eggs are clutched. I’ve been standing for five Turns so there’s not a whole lot of new information for me to learn on that side of things,” she said with a flick of her fingers. Not like in the infirmary. Batavia was glad that the bronzerider had preceded her to Cerulean. V’mio might have funny ideas about some things, but at least she knew his methods and moods. “So after the Hatching I should be able to work whenever.”
She felt her hair prickle and move and shook her head slightly before she saw the firelizard around her. Batavia laughed as some of the flowers fell out, catching on her clothing. "Well thank you, Jaser. I did need some decoration."
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Post by Maykat on Aug 5, 2010 17:10:57 GMT -5
Hehe
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Post by Maykat on Aug 4, 2010 21:05:24 GMT -5
Batavia: Late winter
V'mio: Late spring Felath: Early autumn
R'tel: Early summer Ineth: Late spring
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Post by Maykat on Aug 3, 2010 19:15:30 GMT -5
R’tel just waved away Toven’s demand. “Don’t worry about it. She’s forgotten already.” No way was he telling a wherhandler that Ineth thought whers stunk. In his experience, handlers were very sensitive about things being said about all whers, not just their own. He let Ineth know the man was interested in talking and the green instantly perked up. She turned her body, angling it across the waves and swinging her head to look at Toven. She spread her wings wide, then settling them on her back with a rustle.
What color is your wher? She asked, including R’tel on their conversation. Is she a green wher? I think green really is the prettiest color, don’t you? It’s such a good contrast against the white of a cloud. Not that your wher can fly, but it could lay against the white sand and you could see how pretty green and white look together that way. Unfortunately for Toven, Ineth didn’t have to stop for breath. Ever. You know, I hear that something or someone has been attacking people at night. And some herdbeasts. Does your wher know what it is? R’tel, as customary, Ineth showed Toven a mental picture of her rider rather than say his name, says it’s a feline but I heard Felath tell Pyfeth, another mental picture of two bronzes gossiping, that it’s actually a wild wher. I didn’t know that whers could even be wild. How strange is that? The idea of a wher just running around the forest by itself. Ineth clearly didn’t approve of such nonsense. She chirped and wiggled her head from side to side. I’m glad my weyr is up on the cliff face so no whers can get to it. Especially not wild ones. I don’t like having other animals in my weyr. Actually just a bit ago I was telling about how I don’t like things in my weyr so I kept snorting at this stinkbug and eventually blew it right out of my weyr. Do you think if I snorted hard enough I could blow a wild wher out of my weyr? I doubt it, it would probably catch its claws in the stone and hold on and not move. My weyr doesn’t have a very smooth floor so there’s lots of bumps for it to catch on.
R’tel was trying not to laugh at his green’s mile-a-minute ‘conversation’ with Toven. The boy was used to Ineth’s style of communicating but it was always funny watching someone else get a full dose of it. “If you want to answer her just talk out loud,” he said. “If you can get a word in edgewise, that is.”
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Post by Maykat on Aug 3, 2010 17:47:33 GMT -5
Character: Batavia Job: Journeyman duties and candidate duties Link: Chores/job LessonsCharacter: V'mio Job: Candidate wrangling Link: Lessons
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Post by Maykat on Jul 27, 2010 18:50:21 GMT -5
I'm leaving on a fantastic little vacation (to Missouri woohoo ). I'll check the board if I have a chance and I'll be back Sunday night.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 26, 2010 17:40:11 GMT -5
R’tel huffed, took a bite of his meat roll and leaned back on his elbows. “I’m not sixteen yet,” he said. “And even though Ineth could out fly every one of those dimglows we graduated with, they held us back. You oughtta see the stuff she can do. Turns and rolls that would snap a queen’s wings right off her body.” Knowing she was being talked about, Ineth swam closer, stopping where the waves started to break. “Wait till you see her Flights.” R’tel grinned wickedly and shook his head.
Ineth preened, arching her neck and tossing her head. Tell him I would come up and meet him but he probably smells like a wher and I don’t want to stink too.
“Uh, she says hi,” R’tel told Toven. This wasn’t the first time the boy had been forced to selectively edit Ineth’s side of a conversation.
The green smacked her tail on the water in irritation. That isn’t what I said at all, she told Toven directly. Turning her head away from the beach, she looked like a pouting weyrbrat. But now you’ll never know.
“Sorry about that.” R’tel blushed a little. “She likes to talk to people. I’ve tried telling her not everyone wants their mind invaded by a talking lizard.” Ineth snapped her head back to look at R’tel, then chirped disapprovingly and turned away from his again. “But she doesn’t listen.”
Realizing he, and especially Ineth, was hogging the conversation, R'tel tried to turn it back to Toven. "So, uh, have you been at the Weyr long?" He could feel Ineth rolling her eyes at his lame attempt.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 25, 2010 20:54:19 GMT -5
R’tel sat up when he heard someone nearby. He reached out for the man’s hand. “R’tel, and that’s Ineth out there,” he said, pointing to the green still floating in the water. He hesitated a little before admitting his real rank. “We’ve graduated,” the word was sharp, almost a snap, “but I’m too young for the fighting wings yet.” He looked away from Toven, out over the ocean to watch Ineth.
“We’ve got about another Turn,” he said, his voice a little more gentle. “We’ve been ferrying firestone and carrying messages in the mean time.” He pulled some meatrolls out of his picnic basket and offered one to Toven. “Isn’t this awful early for you? I thought wherhandlers only came out at night.” R’tel was ambivalent about whers; he didn’t think he’d spent enough time with them to form an opinion other than that they were ugly.
They smell, too, Ineth added, picking up her rider's thoughts.
When have you ever met a wher? R'tel asked, his eyes going unfocused and his lips twitching into a brief smile.
I don't know, I just know they smell. Ineth had a similar complaint about wherries and canines. R'tel shook his head and focused his attention back on Toven.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 25, 2010 15:47:06 GMT -5
Who: R'tel and Ineth What: Enjoying the day off When: Afternoon Where: Beach
But then I thought, why smash it and make a mess and leave a nasty smell? So instead I snorted at it and moved it a little, and then snorted at it again and moved it a little again, and snorted again and finally it fell off the ledge. Ineth finished her story, sounding a little smug at having such a good idea. R’tel, only half awake and having no real idea what his green was talking about, something about a stinkbug maybe, still made the appropriate noises, sounding very impressed by her cleverness.
Both R’tel and Ineth were floating on their backs in the warm water, rocking as gentle waves passed them by. He held on to her wingtip gently to keep them from getting separated. It was the day after a Fall, a particularly good one for the Weyr, and a day to do nothing but the barest necessary duties. After running a few messages for some of the Weyr’s crafters, the pair had packed a picnic bag and taken to the beach. R’tel let go of Ineth and back-stroked his way to her head. Are you going back to the beach now? she asked, looking at him through her inner eyelid. I’ll have nobody to talk to.
“Wherry-head, you can always talk to me.” R’tel grinned and scratched under her chin. “I’m just going in to get out of the sun.” He took a deep breath and swam underneath her, resurfacing at her wing tip. He gave her wingsail a tweak before heading for the shore. He rode the waves onto the shore, almost losing him short pants as he hit the sand. He kicked through the sand and flopped onto his blanket in the shade at the base of the cliff. He looked down the beach, watching the other weyrfolk. In the sevenday since their transfer to Cerulean, he had managed to not get in any trouble, mostly because he had kept to himself. He flopped back on the blanket. It had been the most boring sevenday of his life.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 23, 2010 23:13:45 GMT -5
Player: Name: MayKat Are you 17+?: Yes Contact Information: AIM: Email: Past RP Experience:
Character: Name: R’tel Age: 16 Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Occupation: Weyrling Description: Gangly and awkward, R’tel is all knees and elbows. He recently hit a growth spurt and while he appreciates his height, it’s made him even more clumsy than normal. Pretty is a very good word to describe R’tel, and one that he’s heard a lot. With his blonde hair, tan skin, green eyes, and smooth face he could even be described as girlie. Which, of course, he hates. He keeps his hair shaved close to his head but it does little to hide the fact that he is a very feminine looking boy with soft lips and long eyelashes. Weyrling training defined his muscles but added little bulk. He likes to wear open-throated tunics to show off the scattering of chest hair that (he thinks) makes him look manly. He wishes he could grow a beard and has fallen for many a snake-oil promising to give him facial hair. His wardrobe consists of dark green trousers and white or cream tunics. Pastels are not tolerated in his weyr and he’d rather go naked than wear purple.
Personality: Despite his two Turns as a dragonrider, R’tel is still trying to come to terms with himself. Still wanting to prove himself to be a traditional, masculine man, he has a tendency to be defensive and aggressive. He respects older, authoritative women but dismisses girls his own age, assuming he knows better. He’s critical of what he calls ‘girlie-boy’ behavior and frequently makes rude remarks about effeminate men. Being held back from the fighting wings does not help and has only added to his frustration.
Under his prickliness, R’tel does have a soft side, in a way. Once he makes a friend he is loyal to a fault. He can be very thoughtful, remembering someone’s favorite food or bringing friends trinkets from different places. He may be begrudging and act put-upon, but R’tel hates to disappoint people and has a hard time saying ‘no’ when asked for a favor. He likes children and weyrbrats quickly realize he's mostly bark and very little bite.
History: Relatel grew up in a less-than-fully sanctioned logging camp along the Honshu river in the Southern jungle. Logging is dangerous enough work on its own but once the Pass began it became even more deadly. Thread burrows were common, and since the area was ‘uninhabited’ the wings were more lax about checking the ground. It was a very rough and tumble world, attracting men who didn’t want questions about their past and who might have to take off in the middle of the night. A journeyman harper would come by occasionally if he felt up to the trip, and the logs would be floated down river to the sea several times a Turn, but it was a very isolated place. The whole camp was stunned when a pair of Southern Searchdragons landed and took off with an older boy with a Keroon accent and almost thirteen Turn old Relatel.
Practically going from the Searchdragon’s neck to the Hatching Sands, Relatel was stunned to find himself Impressed, and to a green to boot. He never questioned the rightness of Ineth for him; he was extremely ill-prepared for the all consuming bond that came with her. They had difficulties through almost every stage of weyrling training. Craving privacy R’tel would block her out, causing Ineth to panic and throw the entire class into an uproar. She would push against him, demanding more food, not wanting to participate in practical lessons and being clingy and needy. Things finally got better after their first paired flight. Something clicked for both of them and they worked together after that.
Once their bond was sealed by the flight, they began to excel at flying. With her small size Ineth was an acrobat in the air, completing loops and hair-pin turns with ease. While they did well in drills, R’tel’s attitude earned him latrine duty after latrine duty for insolence and disrespect. The pair survived their first Fall without injury and graduated without being tapped into a wing. The only one in the class too young to be held back, R’tel tried not to see it as a personal insult. He hated seeing pairs he knew were worse than Ineth and him getting to really fight Thread while he was stuck ferrying firestone.
Stuck carrying messages and drilling with the weyrling wing, R’tel’s frustration finally bubbled over. He said the wrong things to the wrong person, who turned out to be a goldrider’s beloved baby brother, and soon found himself shipped off to Cerulean. He arrived in the new Weyr with a bag of possessions and a glowing, if not entirely truthful, letter from the Weyrlingmaster about how good of an addition Ineth and R’tel would be to the Weyr.
Fun Facts: Ever since learning to read as a weyrling, R’tel loves to read. During his down time he can be found in the library, curled up with a book on any subject. He copies out passages he likes and reads things outloud to Ineth.
Bonded Critter(s): Type: Dragon Name: Ineth Color: Green Age: 2 Turns Description: Ineth is small and compact, and is an agile sprinter. She tires easily and sleeps most of the day after a ‘Fall. She’s bright grass green with lighter patches under her wings and stomach. An ugly Threadscore scar twists across her back right leg, a reminder from one of their first ‘Falls. Ineth is fidgety, constantly rustling her wings, flicking her tail and tossing her head. Even in her sleep the tip of her tail will twitch, mirroring something in her dreams. Personality: Ineth is a noisy dragon, both mentally and physically. She chatters to R’tel, to other dragons, and often to other people. She trills, chirps, warbles and can even whinny like a runnerbeast. Ineth is airheaded, having a bad memory even for a green. She’s prone to hysterics and is a complete hypochondriac about herself and R’tel.
Despite her ditziness, or perhaps because of it, Ineth is a ferocious Threadfighter. Fearless to the point of carelessness, R’tel has to rein her in and remind her that their job is delivering firestone, not actively fighting. She’s equally vicious during her Flights, lashing out at chasers that come too close before she’s ready.
Fun Facts: She shows some promise as a Searchdragon, although none of the candidates she has picked out on her own have Impressed yet.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 23, 2010 17:14:04 GMT -5
“We’re doing well, Raelwyn,” he answered. “How are you feeling? You must be glad to be up and moving around on your own.” He was glad to see her mobile. He had seen her being carried into the Feast by one of the weyrlings. “I want you, all three of you,” he said, looking to Valee and Batavia also, “to follow the healers’ instructions down to the letter about treating your wounds. You’ll be on light chore duty until you’re cleared.” Infections seemed to be more common in the south and he didn’t want one of his charges getting sick due to carelessness or pride.
V’mio looked at the three women sitting in a row. They’d all be on very light duty for a good two sevendays, plus Zandalorian who was still in the infirmary. It might have seemed like an excessive amount of damage from two dragonets, out of a clutch of only eight, but V’mio knew the outcome could have been a lot worse. Despite their injuries they looked to be in good shape, except for Batavia. But that was due to her self-sustained injuries, not the fault of the little brown.
Batavia sighed a little and closed her eyes at V’mio’s words. She still had her duties as a journeyman, but getting easy chores as a candidate would help to balance it out a little. She grunted at Raelwyn and wished again that her seat had a back. Instead she leaned her head on Valee’s shoulder. “Did either of you see me leave last night?” she asked quietly. “I don’t know if the gal I went with was good looking or not.”
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Post by Maykat on Jul 22, 2010 18:21:44 GMT -5
Batavia handed Tess the needle, then backed away when she took over and S’lain moved to assist her. She had a bad feeling about things and was beginning to wish for her quiet, boring night back. If the nightwatch leader had no idea what had gotten the man, it had to be a rare animal. Hopefully the man had seen what attacked him and would be able to describe it. She watched Tess work, glad dragons offered large swaths of hide to work on, rather than small places. Dragons also cared less about getting scarred, allowing for faster work.
With slashers ruled out, and wild whers unlikely, their most likely culprit was felines. There could be a smaller breed that had developed just on the island. While most of the continent had been explored, new types of animals were still popping up. Even though she was quiet, and gave all outward indications of being absorbed by watching Tess, Batavia was following the conversation around her closely.
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Post by Maykat on Jul 21, 2010 17:25:15 GMT -5
“Good morning, Valee. How are you feeling?” V’mio’s tone made clear that it was not just a routine pleasantry. He worried about his wounded candidates like they were his children. He had talked with the healers after all the candidates had been treated, and he would keep up on all the wounded candidates’ progress behind their backs. From experience he knew that candidates usually said they were fine when they weren’t, and played up their illnesses when they were fine.
Batavia slunk in, reeking of sweat and stale wine and earning herself a look from Felath as she took a seat next to Valee. Her stomach, heavily dosed with numbweed, was actually the least of her aches and pains. Her head pounded, her stomach rolled, and her mouth tasted like a tunnel snake had crawled in and died. Her hair hung down her back in a thick and heavy braid, which was odd, because the last she could remember it had been loose and flowing. But then again, the last she could remember was eating with the other candidates. If she hadn’t spent the night with a worker who had to get up for the morning shift, Batavia would have completely missed the lesson.
She exchanged pleasantries with V’mio, updating him on her condition. Once his attention was removed from her and taken by some other candidates, Batavia slumped, wishing the bench had a back. “I think I died last night,” she muttered to Valee. "I feel like it anyway."
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Post by Maykat on Jul 19, 2010 21:31:50 GMT -5
Who: Candidates What: Lesson When: Morning of the day after the Hatching
The first lesson after a Hatching was always the hardest. The candidates were dealing with their feelings of rejection, disappointment and embarrassment. So V’mio usually kept it short, just a review of the rules and schedules they would keep to until the next Flight. Sometimes he did a quick round of introductions if several candidates had been brought in just before the Hatching. He sat down on his stool, leaning back against the wall of the candidate barracks. It was a nice day, not hot yet but with promises to be a scorcher. To catch the breeze, V’mio had moved the lesson outside, to the back of the barracks. It was shady and somewhat private, enough to block out most distractions.
Felath lounged beyond the rows of benches and stools, creating a back wall for the ‘classroom.’ He enjoyed listening to lessons, or at least dozing nearby and pretending to listen. His scarred wing was stretched out wide across the ground. It had been aching lately, not bad enough to cause V’mio sympathy pains but sore enough to give the bronze discomfort. V’mio blamed it on the near-daily rains but the Felath it was just another part of life. Felath moved his head slightly as he heard the first of the candidates arriving.
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