Follow that lunch

East Bowl
Stone slabs slope gently from one to another as the bowl floor extends outwards. The bowl is a mix of bare patches of darkly hued stone and grittier bits of dust and pebbles. The pebbles and dust combine into a rough dirt which has been slowly worn down over time and settled into the lower spots slowly evening out the bowl floor. The rustle of the Weyr's herd can be heard, and often smelt, to the northeast where behind the grounds the closest part of the bowl wall rises majestically toward the sky. From here one also gets a good view of the seven spindles curling about the rim to the north, spreading east and west like fingers safely protecting all within. The chilly lake waters sparkle invitingly behind its pebbly shore to the southeast, while much of the activity about the Weyr can be seen distantly in the northern portion of the bowl.


Nadiath hop-glides her way into the eastern bowl and settles companionably next to Matajith. The two greens begin what could only be thought of as a gossip, with casual movements of tail and wing and odd-lot passages of sound. The late evening sun has long since passed off the bowl floor and Nadiath especially seems to be trying to leech the last of the heat off the ground by sprawling as widely as possible.

With the thick clouds looming, and the possibility of an afternoon summer storm building, Mohria is returning towards the stables leading a bay gelding, the runner moving with the lazy, slow pace of one that has had his day's exercise. Saddled, the sweat stains on his body show a full workout, and Mohria has chosen to walk rather than ride back to the stable, keeping the pace nice and slow.

Nadiath is much too well-manner to do more than watch after the meal-on-the-hoof. Another deep rumble from the delicate green brings the food and guardian to the attention of Matajith and finally Noth. Now three pairs of interested eyes whirl as they watch the passage across the vast bowl floor. Should the pair get even closer, it's quite possible one of the greens or even the blue might just stir enough to stand but for the moment it's all thoughtful appraisal.

Mohria has to pass by the dragons to take the most direct route to the stables, and after considering for a moment and squaring her shoulders, she murmurs to herself and steps forward. "It's good for you," she says quietly to the runner, who lifts his head a bit and flicks his ears at the dragons. "They're not going to hurt you." Dipping her head in due respect to the dragons, she continues on past.

Well hello! Manners are important and the appropriate response when someone brings you a gift is to accept it politely. So Nadiath surges up onto her feet, wings furled tightly. A soft warble is sent to the kind one feeding her though the green waits patiently for her surprise meal to arrive. When it seems as if shockingly the girl has missed and passed by, Nadiath slips forward, following behind Mohria and her meal. Wait! she croons sadly.

Mohria stiffens nervously when the dragon rises to follow and the runner gets a bit skittish, dancing on the end of his lead. Mohria gives him his head and lets him prance and turn, eyeing the dragon warily. The stable hand, meanwhile, is looking around hopefully for Nadiath's rider. But with Emmaline nowhere to be found, the girl looks mighty uncomfortable and does something very taboo. Speaking to the dragon directly, though she /actually/ talks to the ground. "This isn't for you!"

Nadiath skids to a halt, golden claws digging into the dirt. It causes her to go back on her haunches, tail wrenching and wings spreading to counteract gravity. The sound she releases is some weird cross between a rumble and a croon and sounds more like a squawk than anything. Matajith gives a hissing sound, drawing Nadiath's attention and snarling response back. The younger green properly suppressed, Nadiath loops her head back around and drops it low to the ground, curious now at this shy stable girl.

Mohria draws back, mortified at her brazen behavior, muttering to herself and the runner as she tries to draw him away to the safety of the stables. Other people passing by pay them no attention though, hurrying on and not wanting to get involved. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she whispers, tugging on the bay's lead rope. Eager to be gone, the animal moves forward to the stable, giving the rope a little tug.

Nadiath drops her head lower still, warbling as she does. As this is likely to cause the runner to panic, it's probably not the best thing to happen for Mohria. But Nadiath seems to find it delightful and should Mohria turn her attention away to the dangers of the skittish runner, Nadiath will creep a bit closer. Now however, her attention is clearly on this strangely conflicted girl who seems to have dinner or not, and also be angry at Nadiath or not. It's all very exciting for the emerald green who's eyes whirl wildly beneath velvety ridges.

The runner does not like this at all, and Mohria's nervousness only exacerbates the situation. So when he gives a yank on the lead rope, Mohria goes with him, giving Nadiath a fleeting look before they're moving with a swift pace away from the dragon and into the safety of the stable, where the girl is quick to hand the gelding off to a more experienced stable hand. Peeking out the door, she looks to see if the green is still there

It's at this point, as poor Mohria is being dragged into the stables that an exasperated Emmaline hurries out of the infirmary. She's wearing her protective coat, her hands are full of odds and bits and there's a trail of bandage flapping along behind her in the rising storm winds. "By the egg, Nadiath! What are you playing at? No one has stolen your food. And you're not even hungry anyways!" The greenrider charges over to the green who's now attempting to head into the stables, while the more experienced hands and herders are waving the green away with a great deal more confidence and anger. "Nadiath! Stop that this instant!" When Emmaline arrives at the green's side, Nadiath reluctantly steps back. The rider sighs. "I thought you said they stole your food? What do you mean the food stole her?"

Firmin arrives from the west bowl.

Mohria is currently hiding in the stable, while Nadiath is just outside. Emmaline - along with some stable hands and herders - are trying to get her to back off, lest she scare all the stable's animal occupants into a panic. Peeking out through the doors again, Mohria grimaces. "I didn't mean to speak to her, I'm sorry," she calls.

Not quite sure why there's a green at the door of the stables, Firmin edges around and walks on in. He does give a respectful nod/half bow to the dragon, but he's been around Zhirazoth a few times now, and isn't suffering from the fear that some non-weyr folk exhibit around the beasts. Or that some runners exhibit. "This's a fine way t'treat y'r friends," he says jovially as he looks around for Mohria after being pointed towards the stables. "Y'get a wingleader t'bring me up an' look at eggs with y', an' y're hidin' away when I get here."

Nadiath has reluctantly backed up a few more steps but no more. The green stubbornly drops down to her haunches, refusing all entreaty to back farther away from the stables. Firmin must have passed by while Emmaline was busy dealing with the nasty looks and comments from the head stableman. "I'm trying!" Emma whines, clearly at her wits end. "She keeps complaining about having her girl stolen!" The rider turns back to the green and glares at her for several seconds, finally shouting out. "People are not toys!" The green croons sadly and Emmaline sighs. Turning back to the head stableman, she asks "Is there a girl? Short brown hair? This one is convinced she's in the stables."

Mohria is peering out through the door, so she's about to respond to Emmaline when Firmin is there and the girl squeaks happily, giving him a hug. "That dragon tried to eat the runner I was leading," she whispers in a low, quick voice.

Firmin stumbles back one step as his arms are suddenly filled with a girl that has short brown hair. He turns to look towards the door and the dragon, a puzzled frown on his face. "Y'sure? I gathered from Mr'az an'Zhirazoth that dragons know which're f'r eatin, an' which aren't." Emma's question does draw his attention, though, and he lets go of Mohria to stand half in front of her, protectively keeping himself between the girl and the green. "Mohria's got short brown hair," he says carefully. "What'd'y'be wantin' with her?"

With her attention temporarily aimed at the stable Emmaline actually hears Firmin's comment whereas Mohria's previous comments were lost in the shouting and mental arguments. "Mohria? Well, can you bring her out please? I need her to explain to this lump that she's already signed up." The rider shoots a baleful glare at the emerald green, but Nadiath is much too busy trying to snake her head over or around in just the best way as to get passed Firmin to Mohria behind. Since she's already been chased too far away for this to succeed it just makes her look a little goofy.

Mohria isn't so shy that she has to hide behind Firmin, so despite his best efforts she stubbornly places herself beside him, rather than a bit behind. "Signed up?" she asks, tugging Firmin forward with her as she leaves the stable to approach green and rider. "Signed up for what?"

With a roll of his eyes as Mohria insists on being in front leading into possible danger, Firmin tags along with Mohria. He's still a bit stiff and wary, but not saying anything more, yet. Mohria already asked the question he's thinkin, and he's waiting to hear the answer before he speaks again.

Emmaline is looking decidedly relieved when Mohria makes her appearance, while Nadiath just gets more excited. "Yes, yes." Emma mutters softly before addressing the girl. "Signed up for the clutch. She's absolutely insistent that if she can't keep you that one of the eggs should." The rider gives an exasperated but affectionate look at the green. I told her that I'm sure you were already going to stand but she won't leave until you tell her as well." Now the greenrider looks entreatingly at the young girl.

Mohria blinks a few times in rapid succession, swaying a little bit on her feet. "Signed…for the /clutch/? No, I…I haven't…I wasn't…she wants me to Stand?" Eyes wide, she stares at the green, half in awe and half in 'are you /crazy/?'

Perhaps it was good that Mohria was so 'eager' to get ahead of Firmin, so that he can reach a hand out to her shoulder to steady her as she sways. His blue eyes glance between his friend and the green dragon, to the rider, and he asks the question she's thinking out loud. "Are y'crazy? Moh with a dragon?"

Emmaline's brows shoot up in surprise. "Hrm." She says, clearing her throat. The greenrider straightens, tugs her coat into place and looks straight at Mohria, blocking all other activity from her attention. "Yes, she would like you to stand. Would you like the honor of standing for Xaeth's and Mwoth's second clutch, currently on the sands?" With this formal request out of the way, Emma's eyes shift quick like to the young man. To him she gives a slight frown, possibly at the crazy comment. Then her attention is back to the girl. "There's no promise you will impress of course, but as long as you meet the criteria for a candidate, you can continue to stand for High Reaches, should you not find your lifemate this time."

Mohria turns to frown at Firmin, and then she sharply elbows him in the side. Then she's gaping at Emmaline again, eyes wide as she stares. For a long moment, she is silent, and then she begins to nod. "Yes…yes…of course I'll stand!" she babbles, before abruptly silencing herself and only continuing to nod.

Firmin grins and mouths 'ow' as he's elbowed, and that grin is undimmed even by the disapproval from Emmaline. He waits for her to say yes, before he gives her a congratulatory hug around the shoulders from behind, shaking her roughly back and forth a bit in his exuberance.

Only a small amount of relief is visible on Emmaline's face but Nadiath compensates by bugling. Of course this leads to all kinds of noise and distress in the stables and a screamed "Get that pest out of here, Emmaline, before I call O'mohe!" Emma flinches. In a rush, she tells Mohria, "Good. Go find Weyrlingmaster Yh'val or his assistant, P'wyn and tell him that Nadiath recommended you stand. He'll likely have some questions for you and maybe some lessons. Also make sure to get your candidate robe. The 'master will give you more information when you speak to to him." She turns back to her lifemate and shoos the green away with hand motions. "Go back to your ledge before we end up on endless sweeps again." The green finally accedes, launching upwards towards a weyr high up on the bowl wall. Emmaline visibly relaxes. "You too, Mohria. Shoo. Go get set up. I have patients." Then, without even waiting to see if the girl complies, Emmaline rushes back to the infirmary.

Mohria is shaken and she yelps a bit at the shake and the green's bugle, reaching up to grip Firmin's hands hard. As the greenriding pair depart, the short haired Candidate just blinks, and then she fidgets, unable to keep still before turning to beam at Firmin. "I'm gonna go get…do…do all that stuff! Meet you in the galleries?"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License