Fort Weyr - Weyrling Barracks
The rounded ceiling of this set of barracks is high enough to accomodate growing dragons. Lining the walls lengthwise are sets of stone couches and cots for their riders. At one end of the room are cabinets holding supplies for bathing and oiling young dragons, as well as the weyrling manuals. Against the opposite wall is a table with scraps of leather and leather-working tools. Tacked up on the wall is a diagram of riding straps.


The doors are wide open to the barracks to let the chilly night air in. It's a clear night with no rain or snow expected in the overnight hours and some weyrlings are lucky enough to have their newfound life mates sleeping. Typriaeth, however, is not and therefor neither is Anique. "Shhhh…" can be heard from the couch near the front for that's the one that Typriaeth chose. It's a smaller couch but she likes the fact that she can be see so easily. Rolling over and moving to a sitting position on the edge of the cot, Anique pulls the discarded pair of pants and slowly stands, still waking up. « Hurry…all the best oil will be gone. » urges Typriaeth with an insistent tone that's no more private than someone shouting across the barracks.

Having chosen the berth next to Typriaeth and Anique, Solan and Sharuth are hunkered down for some rest and relaxation. It's been a long day and the almost-gold bronze is curled around his rider, So'l having forgone the cot to rest against Sharuth's silky hide. Instead of sleeping, however, the pair seems to be caught up in intense discussion. "No, it doesn't quite work like that. You earn /marks/, which you then spend on things like food and clothing." «I see. So you should give them all away to the needy since food and shelter are given to you as a rider?» Sharuth asks in response, eyes whirling with curiosity. "Well, it's not that simple. We-" But then Typriaeth is noisily questing for oiling and the attentions of both So'l and Sharuth turn towards the green and her rider. "Early dragon gets the campfire scents?" the former-woodworker smirks.

Oh, Typriaeth has reason to worry. For a certain brown has woken his rider up especially early to ensure that he gets good oil and smells absolutely wonderful. Well, maybe he woke her up so he could get there early and feel all smug toward his siblings. Either way Lana and Rauskazeth are already in the oiling area, the girl beginning to rub fresh wood-scented oil all over her dragon. However, it is interrupted by a wild chirp and a /splash/ as Opal dives straight into the bucket. With a wild string of cursing Lana stands up, fishes the now squawking green out of the oil, and hurries back toward her cot. Once there she grabs the rag that she had set on it and begins to clean her pet off. Meanwhile Rauskazeth bounds into the room, a angry huff leaving him. His voice is annoyed and able to be heard by all dragons in the room as he snaps, « I wasn't done! And now that /thing/ has contaminated the oil! I told you that you shouldn't keep her. »

Zeltenith was sleeping still, which was giving As'tre a few minutes' break. HE'S awake, because he's used to being up and about early, so the time without the bronze digging through his mind was a welcome break. However, as soon as Typriaeth starts being noisy, he's awake….. especially now that Rauskazeth is also being noisy. « You two woke me up, I was having a wonderful dream! » he complains, but then immediately gets up. As'tre chuckles. "Seems like she was beaten to it already anyway." and then there's the itching, and he goes to rub at a spot. "Yeah…. they all need it. Never saw anything grow this fast, or large!"

Anique groans a bit, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she stands once she's completely dressed though shoes? She simply shoves her feet into them without bothering to lace up the boots. "Okay okay..,oh hey Solan…So'l." she says of the bronze rider residing in the berth by them, Typriaeth quickly raises her head and croons a soft hello to the handsome bronze. Lookit her! Isn't she beautiful…well she will be more so with a fresh coat of oil. « Do hurry I have a flaky spot that I fear will become worse before it gets better! » quickly the pair shuffle to the oils where worry now flickers in her quickly whirling gaze. « It is not a thing but I do agree it should not be in /our/ oil. » she informs Rauskazeth as well as everyone else in the barracks. « This can be fixed. » and before her rider can stop her she's using a claw to tip over a barrel to let oil spill out everywhere. « Good morning Zeltenith! You should always waken early to ensure as much that can be done in the day can be! We must exercise soon as well. »Anique adds, amused as she overhears Typriaeth. "It /is/ the middle of the night love…."

It would seem that the pre-dawn hours were not meant for resting after all. Nudging So'l to a standing position, Sharuth has decided that he'll have some oiling as well. However, he isn't exactly happy about how this whole thing has gone down. «Others oiled earlier, so that the space might be free now for early risers. We shouldn't reward their foresight by waking them up,» the bronze sends /only/ to his clutchmates. So'l nods affirmatively, walking alongside his sunlight-fashioned dragon and smiling at Anique. "Good 'morning,'" he quips, using the term loosely. "Hey Lana, As'tre," he nods, smirking at them both. Except suddenly a bucket of oil has been tipped over and is spreading across the floor, pooling around both his feet and Sharuth's front claws. "What…was that really necessary?" So'l asks, rolling his eyes at the now wasted oils. "Those cost hard earned marks…" «Which apparently do not 'grow on trees,' as we might think,» Sharuth adds with slight disapproval.

Rauskazeth turns his head toward Zeltenith, blinking once before responding, « well, I'm better than a dream. And Tie is a /little better. Maybe. » Then there's a pause before, « but not as good as me. » Meanwhile Lana has successfully cleaned off Opal and is heading back to the oil buckets. She nods So'l in greeting as she goes and arrives just in time to see Typriaeth knock over an oil bucket. A groan leaves the Weyrling, but her dragon lets out a happy snort before calling, « well done. Oh, and my oil. I just choose to share with you. » Sharuth only gets a snort from the brown at first, although when he says that marks don't grow on trees he replies in a puzzled tone, « yes they do. My Lana says that marks are made of wood, and trees /are/ wood. » Lana, who is not happy with all this oil spilling. A scowl makes it's way onto her face, one that, combined with the bandages and scarring beginning to peek out from under them, makes her look a bit like something out of a Weyrbrat's nightmare. "Yes," she says in a blank tone, "according to him it was necessary. Because /apparently/ even though we'll now have to clean up this mess and possibly pay for it they absolutely /couldn't/ use oil that a /perfectly clean firelizard/ had been in."

« Trees? What are trees? Ah…. that's what trees are. » Zeltenith answers his own question by taking a peek into As'tre's thoughts. « I know what trees are but he doesn't think money grows on them either. But…. he also says marks are made of wood and so are— HEY I WAS GOING TO SAY THAT. » he sounds annoyed that someone else made that connection first. As'tre shakes his head, waving a greeting to the others now that they're all awake. When the oil bucket is knocked over, though, he sighs. "Hope there's more where that came from… Zeltenith has a few itchy spots." and then in comes a bluish-green firelizard, who chirps and goes to splash in the puddle of oil. As'tre sighs at her.

"You shouldn't scowl like that Lana." Anique says cheerfully despite the oil now pooling at her feet. "You're face will freeze in that unhappy position and I'd like to think that you are capable of being a happy person." Typriaeth crooks happily at the…mess she made. Clearly she thought it was needed and doesn't explain why she did in words but simply sits down first then lays on her belly, wings spread fully out which will make walking a bit hard until Anique clears her throat, eyes glossing over a bit. Then the wings are retracted with reluctance. « Oil for /all/! » she says energetically. « To share. » she'll not have anyone, not even Rauskazeth, claiming oil for himself. As the fire lizard dares though to come into the oil /she/ spilled, Typriaeth casually whips her tail towards it, clearly intending to sweep it away!

«They are our /friends/,» Sharuth grumbles at Typriaeth, gently admonishing her insistence that firelizards not be allowed to partake in the oils. «Or at least they're mine,» the bronze looks at the 'offending' pets kindly. «So'l, I don't mind using what has spilled. It should not go to waste.» Nodding, the brawny weyrling crouches to the ground, cupping what oil he can into his palms - it takes some doing, it seems - before reaching up to spread it around the bronze's right fore-pit, where an intense itching has apparently taken hold. «Better,» Sharuth croons, caught up in the intensely good feeling of his rider's rubbing. "So physically speaking, yes…wood is used for marks, and wood does grow on trees. But it isn't the wood that makes marks valuable: it's the implied guarantee of currency," So'l picks up the conversation, trying to clarify.

Lana glances at Anique and narrows her eyes when she says that her face will get stuck like that. After a moment of silence she mutters, "Faranth, you sound like a creche worker." However, she does allow the scowl to fade, her face falling into a more neutral position. Meanwhile Rauskazeth glares at the fireloizards landing in the oil puddle, a slight hill leaving him as his rider's brown, her other, smaller brown joins them. At Typriaeth's words about the oil being shared he snorts before grumbling, « my, aren't we a martyr. » When Sharuth allows his rider to use the spilled oil he wrinkles his nose and takes a step back, as if the dragon himself is now absolutely filthy. However, as soon as So'l starts speaking his attention is all on him. Once he's done he says to his clutch siblings, « so this 'currency' as Sharuth's calls it is nothing more than a mass illusion. If everyone stopped believing in it it would be worthless as the wood it's made from. Really I don't see the point, we can just hunt for food and fight for land. » Lana groans at this before commenting, "no, Rauskazeth, society doesn't work that way." With that she adds, "and I think I saw another barrel of oil somewhere around the barracks. Maybe the storage area?"

Jeans squawks and disappears *between* as she gets swatted, and As'tre flinches. "Ah… careful, you don't want to…" he trails off, not really wanting to give orders to another's dragon as it were. Zeltenith picks it up however. « Don't do that, she's little but she is As'tre's! » he informs the green, then moves to rub his nose in it too. So THERE.
Set.

Anique peers at Lana a moment before simply looking away and pointedly ignoring the girl. With a sigh she simply drops to her knees as Typriaeth now sprawls on the oil covered ground. "This will need to be cleaned up." she tries to sound stern as she reaches for an itchy spot to take care of. Typriaeth croons happily, seemingly not too worried that the little green disappeared once her tail made contact with her. "Sorry…"Anique adds with an apologetic tone towards As'tre. "She gets so very jealous of mine." explains the woman. "I doubt she meant to really harm it." Typriaeth seems content to share with the other dragons, not minding when the bronze sticks his nose into the oil on the ground. The entire conversation of marks and the 'point' of them is ignored by both rider and green as oiling continues even if it means scooping oil from the ground!

«Typiraeth is very selfish,» Sharuth observes, commenting openly. «More oil on my neckridges, please,» the bronze asks, relaying the final bits of the currency conversation to his rider. Sensing the matter somewhat of a lost cause, So'l instead decides to change the subject. "Hard to believe that, just a few days ago, we were playing with that playset of yours, Anique," he smiles over at the green rider, "all worried about what would happen when the eggs hatched." His eyes flick then to Lana, "Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"
You paged (Anique, As'tre, Lana, So'l) with 'How late can all of you stay today? The lesson may not yet start for a few hours but I want to be sure we don't loose folk or if we need to start earlier.'.

Lana does not make a sound when Anique looks away from her, instead crouching down to the puddle of oil. At the sight of this Rauskazeth snorts before exclaiming, « no way! Nuh-uh, I am not going to be oiled with spilled oil that had a /firelizard/ in it. » In response to this Lana narrows her eyes before saying, "yes you will, now get over here." The brown is still for a silent, mentally trying to get his rider to give in to him before finally coming to terms with the fact that he itches and needs oil, spilled or not. So with a wordless grumble he makes his way over to her and flops down. The brown Weyrling then proceeds to rub oil across his dry spots, remaining silent until So'l speaks. "Yeah," she murmurs. Then a smirk twitches across her face and she asks, "I can't remember, did I already say I told you so?"

As'tre sighs and goes to the puddle, clumsily emulating So'l and grabbing as much oil as he can, going up against all the itchy spots on his own bronze. He battles them out, vanquishing them, and Zeltenith wriggles happily now that he's not being bothered anymore. Once he's all oiled, however, he starts for the door. "Zeltenith no, stay here for now!" « But…. outside! »

« I am not selfish. » insists the young green as she lumbers awkwardly upwards off her belly. Typriaeth turns whirling eyes towards the bronze and adds in clarification towards him. « I shared the oil. I do not like the little ones as much. They steal time from /my/ time. » Anique follows some of this, curiosity within her gaze as she listens and finishes oiling. Lucky for her though the green is much smaller and takes less time. "Go on over there…back to your couch. I need to start cleaning this up." Anique shoos Tie over towards the chosen couch.

Sharuth whuffs at Typriaeth and says, «Thank you for your charity in sharing what belongs to all.» The green is right, after all. She could have chosen to knock over /all/ the buckets or try to block the other dragons from using the space. Clearly, she sacrificed /immensely/ and thus should be anointed as a draconic saint If a dragon could roll its eyes, Sharuth would.

"Hey now," So'l smiles warmly, placing a hand on the bronze's still-in-need-of-care-hide, "let's not keep this going, alright? Here," he says, slathering more oil on another itchy spot. Then Lana is smirking his way and the weyrling can't help but laugh. "Only seven times - make that eight?" And then As'tre's bronze is bounding away and So'l can't help but snicker. "Excitable, that one, eh?"

There is a sort of kindness that he hasn't shown to anyone other than his rider so far in his voice as Rauskazeth says to Typriaeth, « I don't think you're selfish, just practical. » Lana rolls her eyes as he says this. Because Raus was /so/ qualified to judge what was selfish and what was not, given how own personality. She then laughs at what So'l says. "Well it's true!" Then Zeltenith is running off and Rauskazeth, who had already been partly oiled and so doesn't need as much, is jumping to his feet. He breaks out into a clumsy little dragon-run as he calls, « I'll get out there before you can, Zeltenith! » Immediately Lana gets to her feet and calls, "Raus! You get back here!" Of course, his response to this is to completely ignore her and slam his body against the door, only to jump back and hiss when it fails to give way. « Someone tell theirs to fetch the firestone! /I'm gonna flame it./ »

"I think I might've influenced him in the egg or something…. he wants to go as far as he can and out and about. I don't think he'll want to stay here a minute longer than he has to no matter what…" As'tre laughs, shaking his head, then grabs a bit more oil to slather over other spots that don't itch YET. Zeltenith, for his part, comes to a halt before slamming into the door itself, scrutinizing it carefully. « It's locked somehow! » he declares. « Don't flame it, that's just stupid. I bet I can figure it out, just stand back! » and so he….. looks at it. Then looks back at As'tre. "No… I'm not going to open the door, stay here for now!"

Back on her couch and looking like she's no interest, yet, in seeking the great outdoor, Typriaeth lounged with her tail swishing back and forth lightly as she watches the others. Anique, for her part, has gotten to work on cleaning up the mess her life mate made. « Thank you, I am indeed quite the practical one. » agrees Tie over towards the brown. Her tone is calm and hardly ever flustered the words sounding almost echoey like as if they are coming from far off. « Why flame /or/ fight when you can have them opened for you? » she questions the logic of the others.

"It's possible, I suppose," So'l smiles back at As'tre. He doesn't know the man well yet - or, in fact, very much at all - but he's happy to be sharing weyrlinghood with him. "Wait til he's bigger…doors like that won't be able to stop him," the other bronzer chuckles. «I am itch-free now. Thank you, So'l,» Sharuth nuzzles his rider, slowly flaring out his wings to test the oiling of their joints. «So much better!» Turning about, he, too, makes his way towards the door, only residual oils on the floor combined with his gangly legs sends him into a sprawling fall to the ground. «Not graceful at all,» the bronze whuffles at himself before rising. "S'alright, Shar," So'l smiles back, mopping up the leftover oil along with Anique. As the bronze meanders over to rest on his couch, his rider is looking at those remaining in the oiling area. "What a mess," he snerks.

"Er, anyway. We should probably get some sand to clean up that oil, that'll soak it up and make it easier to scoop away." As'tre suggests, reaching out and grabbing the wingtip of his bronze, tugging gently. Away from the door, you. "Yeah, I don't think the entire Weyr would contain him for long. Especially when we start getting flying lessons." mental images of the bronze soaring out or the Weyr to disappear causes him to grimace. Zeltenith immediately turns around and nuzzles him. « I wouldn't do that without you! » but he didn't deny he'd do that sort of thing. Sigh.

"Aha…sand!" Anique disappears into the back of the barracks then emerges with a bag of sand in which she simply dumps all along the oil spill. "Good idea Jas…As'tre." she gets to back to work cleaning up the mess. "Thanks So'l." is murmured gratefully as he also comes over to aid in the cleanup. From her couch Typriaeth stretches out her wings carefully to avoid hitting anyone else. Streeeetch they go then up as she works on the muscles. "Careful." warns Anique with a glance over. "Sorry she knocked this over. She really did think she was helping."

"She's young," So'l smiles warmly. "This won't be the last mess we clean up but each one's a learning experience, right?" The woodworker-turned-weyrling scoops up some of the oil-soaked sand and deposits it into a large trash bin. With a big yawn, So'l says, "Should probably try to get a bit more sleep before M'icha wakes us up in the morning. I don't think I'm quite ready for exercises yet." «Neither am I,» Sharuth yawns as well, looking then to Typriaeth. «Pretty wings,» he comments.

"Well hopefully there won't be a repeat of this now that she hopefully knows it's not a good thing to do?" As'tre asks. He moves forward to help as well, and with an aggrieved sound Zeltenith climbs onto his own couch. « My wings are bigger. » everything about him is bigger than the green, duh.

« Thank you. I think my wings are perfect for me. » replied Typriaeth with a mighty yawn suddenly. Anique looks surprised at this but also a little thankful. Poor Anique only sleeps when the green does and that's only for short bursts at a time it seems! So quickly Anique finishes up the last of the clean up and moves to find rags to wipe down her hands, offering some to So'l and As'tre as well. "Well perhaps she knows this isn't good to do…" says Anique with a rueful shrug. "Learning curve for us all. " « You are bigger than I so of course your wings are bigger. They are quite the right size for /you/. » emphasizes Tie.

So'l takes the offered rags and wipes himself down, thankful for Anique's foresight in handing them out. "Much appreciated," he smiles back at the woman. Catching the conversation via Sharuth, the weyrling chuckles and says, "Oh boy. They're comparing wings now," he snerks. Putting away the cleaning implements and used rags, he stretches a bit and then nods. "I think we're going to catch a little more sleep . Have to take advantage of these moments when we can, right?" So'l smiles, an eyebrow arched. Moving towards the couch, he climbs up to nestle in with Sharuth, who now smells like woodland pine. "I love you, Sharuth," he looks up at the bronze's head with great tenderness. "Get some rest." «Of course,» the bronze replies, settling down with his rider-to-be. «And I love you more than humans can understand.» With another whuffle, both dragon and weyrling allow themselves to drift away to the forests of their dreams.

As'tre watches some of his fellow weyrlings settle back down to sleep, and Zeltenith is already on his way, so washing off his hands to get all the oil off, he goes to follow their example. Sleep is good.

Sleep is good and soon Anique is snug in her cot and Typriaeth is softly snoring sprawled gracelessly in her couch. No one tell her she isn't looking her best right now!