Current mood:	pensive
Entry tags:	moll, niena, snowstrike

Masoth Has a Wing Now

Sometimes, the rotation of riders who watch over the Weyr change so that H'am and brown Llanarth are relieved of such monotony and on such a day Moll is found leaned casually against one of the Starstones while Vmireth does a sweeping round of the bowl's perimeter. It's during the tourmaline green's flight that the dragon extends a cheerful invitation, a request backed by splashes of vibrant colors, to Masoth. << It's a beee-yoo-tiful afternoon, and you can almost see the snow melting far away. Wouldn't you like to enjoy it with me? >> A moment later finds the addition of, << My rider would like the company of yours as well. >>

Not long afterward, Niena and Masoth emerge from their Weyr, Niena wearing her new riding leathers over her normal clothes. Masoth springs from his ledge even as he greets Vmireth with a sunny << We come! >> Not long afterward, the two land on the ledge, Niena unbuckles her straps and slides down, while Masoth warbles brightly.

Vmireth basks in the sunny greeting, her wings spreading wide to the blue to showcase the wingspan, to entice him to join her in her lazy flight about the Weyr. All's well at High Reaches this morning, the storm clouds held at bay by a bright sunlit late winter afternoon. When Masoth arrives, Moll gives Niena enough time to unbuckle herself, a big smile and an easy wave sent to the bluerider. "Hoy there!" calls the once assistant weyrlingmaster, "Stunning view isn't it? I can't remember how much time any of you had to spend shadowing the watchrider." Curious blue-hazel eyes look to Niena for an answer.

Masoth takes the invitation, nuzzling his rider once before launching to catch up to the green. Niena smiles after her dragon, then turns to Moll. "Usually once a month, thought the schedule rotated so once or twice we watched twice. He would also call us to view certain weather patterns and warning signs." After a few moments she says, with an impish smile, "How does it feel not babysitting any more?"

The smaller dragon doesn't show off any acrobatics as she wings to one side and then to the other, creating leisurely 'S' patterns in the sky. Moll doesn't need the moment she takes to answer the question, her gaze riveting to the two dragons and watching Vmireth with fond affection transparent in her eyes. "Hmmm? Oh! That. Well, obviously, there's more free time now that we're not consoling E'dro every night, or hoping K'zarin doesn't try and break curfew, but...," the greenrider's features shape into an impish smile years too youthful for her age, "I have to admit, I've missed the lot of you and hearing all the different breathing in the barracks late at night. How're you? Adjusting to not being in classes anymore? And your own place?"

Masoth keeps up, just happy to be flying on this glorious day. He doesn't so much bespeak as radiate exultation to any dragon who cares to notice. Niena also gives him a fond gaze as she forms her answer. "It's been really strange getting used to not being in a dorm -- I've pretty much lived in one or another all my life. The free time was refreshing at first, but time is weighing more heavily on my hands now. Even as a nanny I often worked more than played on restdays."

There's a sympathetic glint in the older woman's gaze, her hazel eyes disappearing into a squint as her entire face conveys understanding. "I think most of us all are in the same boat. If I were still at the Hold, I bet I wouldn't even have my own room now. Stuck in the dorms with all the noises and people and-," Moll pauses to smile ruefully, "I miss all those people around sometimes, but," she shrugs and gestures vaguely to where Vmireth continues her sky dancing: what can you do when attached to a massive creature. "Moving into our own weyr was definitely an adjustment. You get used to it though and once you've a wing to report to, you'll be thankful for some moments to yourself."

Niena nods fervently "I imagine so. I think Masoth adjusted far more quickly, and made it not so lonely for me. He's pretty sociable, so we get lots of visits, so at least it's not some looming aloneness, more of a "nights without snoring" sort of thing.

"And somehow, you've gotten used to all the snoring. It's like a lullaby to put you to sleep?" Teasing, Moll leans down to tie the laces of her boots a little more securly, and on her way up, tucks her hands in her pockets. "For dragons, it must be spades easier. They can talk to anyone they wish without depending on proximity, but it's not as easy for us." In her pockets, one hand curls visibly and withdraws. "But perhaps this might fill your empty hours a little more?" The hand opens, the knot of a full bluerider with the badge of Snowstrike, a little wrinkled, on top.

Niena's eyes widen. "We're ready for a wing, then?" Her expression is at once apprehensive and joyous. "I'm honored" without a trace of irony that the words might sometimes imply. "I guess now we'll have to face thread for real," she adds, explaining the hesitation with which she takes knot. Masoth, out in the bowl still, pauses to give a triumphant warble, before catching up to Vmireth again.

Vmireth allows Masoth to catch up, but at the last second veers upwards, shooting straight up into the air with all the speed her small frame can attain. Triumph that the blue feels finds additional, correlating outlet in the green's flight and her joyous bugle into the sky. "Well, I'daur sure don't want you in Flurry no more," says the greenrider, mimicking and poking a little fun at the weyrlingmaster's expense. "And you're probably tired of flying resupply, but Masoth looks to be in great shape and you," the curly-headed rider tips her head with a bright grin, "You need something more challenging now that you seem to have mastered weyrlinghood." But her hesitation is noted, the grin diminishing just a bit, and the hand that's extended the knot remains there while her other reaches up to clasp Niena's shoulder, if allowed. Reassuring. "Everyone has fears. You know your new wingleader, B'yan, and your clutchmates, and even I'daur, Persie, and myself... we're all here to talk it out if you need."

Masoth almost keeps flying in the curve, but quickly changes direction to keep up with the green. Niena does not draw away from the pat and, in fact, seems rather relieved for it. "I may have to take you up on it. I'm not so much afraid of thread myself as I am of seeing Masoth hurt. Those dragonhealing lessons are definitely more personal now."

There's a touch of solemnity in Moll's naturally impish face, the older rider's brow knitting as her eyes sneak over to catch sight of the flying Vmireth. "I never had much aptitude for dragonhealing. Some of us are more inclined towards that stuff, like second nature. But aye, I think I might understand what you mean. The dragons, though," she cracks a small, perhaps slightly sad smile, "They're fearless sometimes." Vmireth, attuned to her rider's moods, comes sweeping back from her sky weaving, passing Masoth on the way down with a friendly warble and timely-like, H'am's Llanarth seems to wing up from his ledge. "I've a few duties to attend to, but I'll be sure to let B'yan know of your official tapping. Drills tomorrow, don't forget which wing with though." Ever the tease, the last joke is cracked a little less brightly as she moves towards her dragon.

Masoth also comes to a landing on the ledge, bugling to Llanarth and Vmireth before he nudges his rider again. Niena scritches him fondly on his itchy eyeridge, then calls out "Thank you again!"

"You're welcome!" But something in Moll's expression remains pensive even though her wave is jaunty from atop Vmireth. Then, the green wings down slowly to the bowl, where a teeny tiny Moll figure can be seen tripping along into the dragon infirmary.