Who E'stel, Lhiannon
What E'stel and Hana take their dragons for their first aerial hunt and work to control impulses and flight skills.
When Winter, 2725
Where Feeding Grounds, Fort Weyr

 

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Fort Weyr - Feeding Grounds
Milling herdbeasts dot this lightly grassy section of the southern end of the bowl. Fences keep them neatly secured on all sides, even extending into the lake, allowing the beasts ample drinking water without granting them an escape. Dragons young and old come here to hunt on a fairly regular basis, though not all come at once of course. From here you can easily make out the entirety of the Weyr's lake as it spreads out south and southwest to the tumbled rubble of the far shore, while the rest of the bowl lies beyond the fences to the southeast, east and northeast.


Deep in the thrall of winter with roughly two sevens left before Turnover, Fort has seen enough snowfall in the last several days that banks have formed to the sides of oft-used paths, cleared both by workers on-duty and perhaps the movements of particularly obliging dragons who may enjoy walking through rather than flying over the snow. It's evident that Fjainoith is hardly one of the former; since her clearance first to fly, then to learn to hunt, she's been remarkably quick to (safely) build up stamina. She's easily beaten her rider to the feeding grounds this afternoon following a mostly successful ground kill from some days ago, waiting until Hana comes into view before taking off once more into a loose spiral over the milling beasts, the ever-present chill of her presence underlaid with a flash of something ironclad. Focused, fierce, delighted in the way some of the future meals below stamp a little nervously as her shadow hovers, follows, she takes her time selecting her first aerial target. Below, the harper (who was notably not at lunch today) leans against the fence, gloved hands curling about the nearest post as she observes her dragon's movements with a pursed-lip grimace.

A broad winged shadow drifts over the herd above the frosty green. It intersects her circle, eclipsing the wintry sun while passing overhead with the lazy wing beat here and there like that of some ominous carrion avian. As the young dragon passes, the pale bronzen hide of Roheith is revealed. He, too, has taken to the sky well ahead of his lifemate, though perhaps not as speedily as his sister green. A breath of dust and the hints of windblown prairie brush travels over his sister's mind in way of a preoccupied greeting as glittering eyes are fixed this way and that on potential prey below. "Well, moment they've been waiting for, huh?" Comes a familiar voice from behind Lhiannon. E'stel comes up beside her at the fence, brushing off some crusting snow from a fence beam before leaning over it as he's obviously done numerous times before. Though maybe not this particular fence. His face attempts to be jovial but tightness around his eyes betray apprehension. "Well, I guess second moment… first was definitely the flying for Roh." He glances skyward at the circling pallid bronze before casting his view out to the herd. "How'd yours do with the ground hunt? Was so focused on Roh, I didn't see."

Fjainoith barely spares Roheith a glance as he passes by, all but radiating anticipation as she makes another circuit. "The moment they've been waiting for, " Lhiannon repeats almost absently, mouth pulling into a momentary frown before she smooths it away. "I suppose it is, isn't it." Blue eyes slide to the golden bronze, then back to E'stel. Of the ground hunt, "She's been practicing, but really, aside from her first attempt, she seems to be — " Her reply ends in a sharp inhale as the wintry witch green shoots downward in an arced dive that almost overshoots the herdbeast on which her glittery eyes are unerringly fixed. There's a flash of steel and a triumphant clap of thundersnow as she manages to wrestle the frightened creature down onto the ground, using the relative disparity from her greater size to her advantage to make up for the not-quite perfect aim. In contrast, talons tear unerringly at their target, and Fjainoith is perceptibly pleased as she eagerly lowers her muzzle to start on a very fresh meal. " — doing just fine, " Hana finishes thickly in the aftermath, looking almost as disturbed as she did on the day they Impressed while feeding her lifemate for the first time.

It’s probably in some small way E’stel’s fault for not having a predator before, or at least he seems to think so as he is vaguely aware of the desolate calm of a sprawling desert that breathes through his mind from his shimmering lifemate. Or maybe he at least should have taken more of an interest in the behaviors of the barn felines? Either way, he finds himself dimly aware of every twitch and shuffle of several of the beasts, despite his gaze returning to Lhiannon as she speaks. The flash of glacial green catches his eye as much as the harper's anticipatory pause does. Roheith, too, is momentarily distracted, tilting his flaxen head to the side to better observe his sister's progress. "Yeah." E'stel's response is hardly audible over the lowing of the beasts and the thundering hooves of those scattering in desperation to the opposite side of the field. "Well she's definitely, ah, efficient?" It's offered in almost a conciliatory way, the bronzer's gaze on Lhiannon's disturbed expression. The movement of the herd has Roheith's attention again, following in dusty clouds of predatory thought as if it were that which was being churned up by the many feet and not the mud and chunks of ice. The scatter of the herd has revealed the easier prey, but this IS Roheith after all. E'stel finds his thoughts drifting to a young bull who has stopped he flight early. « Fool. » comes in an explosion of firestone dust. Tucking his flaxen wings to his side, he dives. He pulls his wings wide at the last second, but misjudges his distance, ploughing into the bull's side and knocking it over. Momentum pulls him forward ONTO the herdbeast, literally crushing it under his massive size. "Shells." Est groans. Roheith recovers his footing, revealing a spectacular display of mud and blood over his chest, the beast a crumbled shape in the mire. "Just… just eat it, man." Red that bleeds onto the snow also creeps over the beastcrafter's face as he covers it with his hand. The residue of firestone smoke blows through the air as the bronze settles into his meal, seemingly unconcerned. He did kill it quickly after all.

Efficient. It's the way Lhiannon certainly takes her meals - and at the moment, it's the way Fjainoith eats, too, once the initial rush of satisfaction gets overtaken with the pleasure brought on by eating. "Now that that's over, " says the female weyrling dryly in the wake of swallowing hard while the green does so easily. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she takes the opportunity while adjusting for comfort to tug her knitted hat down a little farther onto her head, attention shifting to Roheith as the young bronze makes his kill from the air. "Crushing seems to have been pretty effective for both of them, " she decides after a moment, carefully angling more toward E'stel so that she doesn't have to watch either dragon work on their repast. She's focused on some spot past him, however, perhaps to allow him time to recover his own composure. "I suppose the - finesse, " with a wrinkle of her nose, "will come with time and more practice."

The teen gives a snorting chuckle into his hand at Lhiannon's assessment of his lifemate's techniques. As he looks up at her, revealing his face there's a look of amusement mingled a little with relief. "That's one way to look at it." Meanwhile Roheith huffs and puffs through his meal, ripping shreds of meat from the carcass with no care for keeping clean. That's probably a moot point anyway given the state of his hide. Unfortunately bright near-golden hide shows off mud and blood all too well. « It's… gritty. » Comes a twang of disapproval. “Yeah… I hope so." E'stel eyes the bronze. "Because I am not looking forward to getting that off of him." That's later E'stel's problem though, as he turns to lean back against the fence. "I guess it could have been worse. I expected worse. I guess you did too… weren't partaking in lunch today?" There's a bit of a teasing smirk passed her way as he kicks some snow off his boots. Though he shouldn't be teasing since he hadn't eaten much himself.

Hana permits herself a small grin, even if it shrinks a hair with a brief side glance for the dragons' enthusiasm. Fjainoith carves while Roheith rips, slicing almost smugly with talons and teeth. Perhaps she hears something of that disapproval, or has some of her own to convey; whichever the case, there's a sound not unlike that of a knife being sharpened on a whetstone to accompany the puff of cold that wends his way in silent commentary: this is an excellent development. "Finesse in hunting, " she qualifies, likely unnecessarily with another look toward the icy green, whose activities have also consigned this pair to spending most (if not all) of the remainder of the day bathing and oiling. "And you have more to bathe, " she says sympathetically, shrugging as he mentions her midday meal absence. Offhandedly, "It was a strategic retreat, just in case she felt like sharing every sensation again while preening over her success. It's nice to know that she's content, but I would gladly go through the remainder of my days without knowing what it feels like to kill and eat a herdbeast."

"Honestly I'm not sure how you manage to keep the blood stains off her." E'stel nods towards the green. Though Fjainoith is not the one with over half their body covered in blood mud and now entrails as the bronze gets past the muddy exterior of his catch. Even the bones are easier to chew when you smash them! There's a minor wince from E'stel that may signify this has been shared with him, but he pushing past that to give Hana a somewhat sympathetic nod. "Yeah, he does that too a bit… but mostly it was about strategy… he did pretty well on the ground. Though he's still growing into those legs of his so I'm surprised that the flying hunt wasn't… better." Indeed the bronze continues to be lanky, though better proportioned. His method of eating includes an odd stooping of his neck and shoulders, again resembling the carrion avians- perhaps more so covered in blood and mud. "And he's not as disappointed as I expected with his bellyflop after all that." « I succeeded… it did not suffer. Fjainoith's said as much. » Comes the cool tone of clinking dusty glasses, but there's no annoyance. E'stel look back over his shoulder a second, then back to Hana and shrugs. "Guess he sees it the way you did."

"Lots of cleaning, " supplies Lhiannon wryly; Fjainoith isn't quite as covered as Roheith, but there are tell-tale crimson smears over her jaws and forelimbs, certainly accompanied by some mud underneath from her own body-slamming approach to snagging her quarry. She leaves the bones behind, though, clearly preferring to work her way through flesh and sinew instead. With an appraising look for the long-limbed bronze, "I wouldn't be surprised if he became more graceful later. The dragonhealer who did our last check-up told me that they're probably only a little over halfway to their full growth, at this point." It's a touch rueful, at the end; Hana will never have quite as much hide to oil as E'stel, but it's undoubtedly already an endeavor that takes up a significant amount of time these days. For his last, the woman raises an eyebrow, amused. "He does, does he. He'd forget about it soon enough, I suppose, even if he had been." Disappointed, that is.

"Yeah, I suppose." E'stel groans. Little over half way. "How do riders manage to get anything done?" He laments, obviously imagining what his lifemate's full size will be. "All the oiling and washing…" Roheith himself has already finished a fair amount of the carcass. Benefits of being large, having a large mouth. But even with plenty left E'stel finds himself vaguely aware again of the movements of the beasts in the distance. It takes the crafter a moment as he opens his mouth to speak to Hana and pauses. "Hey," This, while directed at her, isn't for her and E'stel is turning about to look beyond the fence. There Roheith has shifted to a prowling crouch, his remaining carcass left as he focuses one less than cautious cow-beast that has ambled out, seemingly forgetting the terror of moments before. "You can't honestly be finished yet." The bronze doesn't acknowledge Est's words, tail tip twitching in anticipation. "Roh, buddy, you still have some more left." Finally a gritty breath, like from a sandstorm, blows through: « It's… dirty. » There's a major eye roll for this. "Yeah… I know. You didn't care about that a minute ago." Of course he doesn't need to be speaking aloud, but seems like he still hasn't gotten out of the habit. "Drag it in the snow if you need it clean, but you need to finish it." An annoyed rumble and Roh huffs a sigh as he tears his eyes away from the clueless beast. "Jeeze…" Est mutters, turning back to Hana when he's sure Roh's returning to his carcass. "…speaking of forgetting. Like he didn't just kill one a moment ago."

Excellent time management skills? Assistance with the washing? "There must be a way, " Lhiannon reasons practically in the wake of his (probably) rhetorical question. "But at least neither of us will have to take care of quite as much as some others, " like Alexa and Inri. For multiple reasons, the harper is probably relieved that Fjainoith is, indeed, green. Eyebrows arch again in response to 'hey, ' to the shift in the other weyrling's attention; blue eyes follow the direction of his gaze to take in Roheith's change in posture. The corners of her mouth twitch faintly as she follows E'stel's side of the conversation. "It's very exciting for them, " she notes, as if this weren't already glaringly obvious, "and it's probably natural that they might want to try again." Especially since they're likely to do this again tomorrow. As Fjainoith's rate of eating slows, she turns her head slightly to sweep her chilly regard over the ambling bovine, perhaps more in study of its movements since her muzzle lowers again to her kill soon after. The high of success and satisfaction from feeding are less palpable as the edge is taken off of her appetite to be replaced with something more content. "Don't overeat, " Hana reminds under her breath, shifting to stuff gloved hands deep into her jacket pockets. "I think, " more audibly for E'stel, "I'll take her for a bath as soon as she decides she's through. I don't think I'm cut out for dragonhealing, but I want to look over those notes from yesterday's class again for her benefit."

Roheith seems to be taking out his frustration on the remains of the carcass, ripping at it a bit more intensely than before. So much so that the loud cracking spooks the previously oblivious beast, sending it loping quickly back to the safety of the herd. The brooding rumbles of a prairie storm mills harmlessly in the background of E'stel's mind as he nods his head vigorously. "Yeah, no kidding. Like the first time he did his flight and all he wanted to do was go up again." They may have gotten in trouble for E'stel's struggle to get Roheith back down after he got airborne the first time. At least this time he was listening, but that may have something to do with the absence of "the system" telling Roh and Est what to do in this instance. There was some comfort in that perhaps. At the mention of baths, the apprentice sighs. "Ugh, I should too really. If I'm lucky I'll be done in time for dinner. We may have to work on the finesse of just eating." He remarks a hint dryly. The added vigor to Roheith's eating certainly isn't making his job any easier.

As Fjainoith nears the end of her meal, eyes that whirl with more blue-green pick up speed as that oblivious beast is spooked back to safety, presence sharp and amused in the way of one who might smile predatorily with too many teeth. Run, run, as fast as you can, swirls around her as she watches its movements a moment longer, a sentiment that carries toward Roheith's prairie on a sudden puff of cold satisfaction. For all her aloofness and carefully held distance from the others, there's a flash of something that might resemble momentary camaraderie, if one were to squint, but it's here-and-gone so quickly that it may well have never been. Lhiannon has an odd, little smile for that mention of the dragons' first flights; there wasn't much struggle for control in the aftermath of her own lifemate's "first" attempt in class. Not enough to earn them any particular attention from their instructors, at any rate. Their clandestine, premature practice, however, would probably be another story entirely if it came to light. "Mm." That's her noise of agreement - for dinner, practice, all of the above? It's hard to tell. Eventually, the green signifies her readiness to go for that promised bath by abandoning her mostly stripped carcass to fly out of the feeding pens, unable to quite resist casting a shadow over the nearby herd on her way through. "I do hope she doesn't make a habit of that when we're outside of the weyr, " the harper observes with a little frown, exchanging farewells not long after before jogging off to catch up with her dragon.


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