Fort Area
All over!

Spring has certainly brought its fair share of trials to the Weyr and in various degrees. For some, it's nothing more than having to deal with the excess of rain and mud. For others, the troubles are far more in depth and worrisome. Namely, the supposed sickness among the herds between Fort Hold and Peyton Hold. It makes for troubled holders and when the Halls remain silent on answers, it's the Weyr who has to keep the calm as best they can. So what better an atmosphere to pitch a not-quite goldrider into? For that's exactly the task (and test) set to Thys on this surprisingly clear and bright spring day. M'icha has given her her full marks in everything needed to get her to where she needs to go. What remains to be seen is how the weyrling handles herself under pressure. And her mentor for the day's trials? The Weyrleader himself. Which could be reassuring or intimidating, as he's certainly dressed his part. Formal riding leathers and his usual dagger on one hip and his short sword on the other, Th'ero waits patiently by Velokraeth's side in the northern bowl. Her instructions would have been delivered the day prior, giving her time to prepare — not by much but… some.

Whatever preparation Thys has done is only partially visible when Rhenesath takes the leap from her ledge to land carefully in the muddy bowl, being conscious of her freshly-oiled hide and not wanting to muck it up. Thys, mounted atop her, would look to be dressed formally too; her riding leathers gleam softly in their supple newness, formal in style even if a little plain. « Mine asks if she can stay mounted, due to the mud, » Rhenesath passes on to Velokraeth, after giving him a warm greeting. Thys waves down at Th'ero - if he's looking up, that is! - then gestures to what she's wearing. She calls down to him with: "Hello, Weyrleader! Is this alright? Or do you think they'd prefer to see me all ladylike in a skirt and all?"

Velokraeth returns that warm greeting from Rhenesath twelve-fold, his mind saturated with sweet and honeyed wine that lies smooth and mellowing in contrast to his rolling voice. « Ah! Good morning, Rhenesath! You are looking remarkably splendid. She may, though where we are going may have mud too. » He remarks with laughter in his tone. « So they may not take notice or offence! » Th'ero, meanwhile, does look up and offers Thys a quick salute before he takes hold of Velokraeth's straps and begins to mount up. He'll answer her too, while he does, his voice carrying easily over the distance. "No, your riding leathers are fine! If they've issue with it, well…" That'll just be more for her to handle! It may be that he's more of a background fixture in this. As he settles into the saddle, he gestures with a gloved hand out towards the west. It's Velokraeth, however, that relays the orders. The Weyrleader isn't about to shout out sensitive information for all to hear! « We're to start with a small hold known as 'Keystone'. Lies westward of Peyton Hold and surrounded mostly by forests and many smaller cotholds. Rare that they have such a ranking rider to visit, so the reception should be welcoming. » A good place to start then! Or is it? Velokraeth has moved to a cleared section of the bowl so that he can stretch his wings in preparation to fly. « Care to bring up the image? You will lead. » As is proper.

Thys gives Th'ero a thumbs up rather than shouting back a reply, looking slightly green with nerves though she's trying hard to hide them. Rhenesath, however, is cool as a cucumber… or cool as the breeze rippling the mountainside grasses of her mind. « We will lead, » she replies to Velokraeth, sharing the image of where they need to go with him to check that it is, indeed, the right location. « When you're ready? » She flares her wings, showing that she's set to go whenever, while Thys watches Th'ero to check for when he's set to go. Then she gives the signal to take flight; Rhenesath leaps up, winging upwards to a safe height for betweening, sharing the image once more before they disappear into the nothingness for three heartbeats… emerging high above Keystone for a leisurely glide down. « We would like to give the holders time to watch our approach and prepare, if they need it. » They do, of course, touch down eventually, with Rhenesath picking somewhere that doesn't look to be entirely swamped with mud. Thys dismounts, checks herself over quickly, then approaches Th'ero and Velokraeth. "Weyrleader… they're having a problem with the beasts here, same as elsewhere… right?" Something in her tone suggests she probably knows the answer, though uncertainty drives her to ask again.

Velokraeth focuses on the shared image and there is a ripple to his mind, a sign of his approval that Rhenesath has, indeed, brought the proper destination forth. « Lead on, fair lady! » There is no mistaking the grin in his tone. At the signal for flight, the bronze unfurls his wings of reddish and golden-bronze and launches up after the young gold. With ease he jumps Between and when they reappear over Keystone, he rumbles approval. « Well thought! Mine approves of your tactic. » Velokraeth informs Rhenesath, fully expecting the gold to pass on the praise to her rider. Pleased for a chance at some leisurely gliding, he takes his time and lands after her. There is a slight sniff, almost a huff. « Quaint little place, isn’t it? Doubt there’s even a proper place for which you could sun yourself in comfort. » Velokraeth gives his wings a flick before folding them tightly to his side but he does not seem to be settling in. Is he not staying? Apparently not, as Th’ero dismounts as well to talk to Thys but does not step far from his bronze’s side. “You will discover that for yourself, Thys.” he tells her and while his expression seems stern, his tone is gentle. This is her test after all! The Weyrleader will not be guiding her. “Remember your lessons on politics and etiquette and you’d be surprised on what you may find. Be on your guard too. Keystone’s holders are a good lot.” In other words: they’re starting her off easy! “Velokraeth and I have to check on something but will be within reach. If you start to feel uncomfortable, Rhenesath can bespeak him. You’ll do fine,” he assures her, in case her nerves have returned. Reaching out, if she allows him to, he will gently clasp her shoulder. “We’ll be back within a candlemark. You’re here so that the holders can see their newest weyrwoman. We did this too with Dtirae, Inri and Jajen when it came close to the time that they assumed their ranks as juniors. Consider it tradition.” And a test. Always a test (and possibly a trap). Stepping back, he dips his head respectfully to Thys. “Good luck.”

When Th’ero reveals that he won’t be staying with her, Thys looks slightly green with nerves. She bites down on her lip, hands clasped tightly in front of her, and as she listens to him the frown on her brow continues to grow, fuelled by nerves. Rhenesath gives her rider a reassuring clucky sort of sound. « I prefer to sun myself somewhere dusty, or at least dry; with all this mud, all the good spots are gone. Dust feels far better on hide than mud does. » She sounds a little disappointed, the wildflowers dotting her mountainscape mind a little less bright. Then she settles herself, content to stay right where she is to wait - and far more at ease than Thys is. The young goldrider allows Th’ero to clasp her shoulder, nodding at him and trying to school her expression to show less of her nerves, and more of the confidence she’s mustering. “Alright, sir. I think… no, I mean, yes, I’ll - we’ll -” since there Rhenesath and Holders involved in this equation, too, “- be fine. I’m sure of it.” She takes a step back when he does, half-turning towards the holding. “Thank you, sir,” is her reply to his last comment, returning the dip of his head with one of her own. Then there’s little hesitation; without waiting for the Weyrleader to leave, Thys gathers herself together to start up towards Keystone proper. As she comes closer to the holding’s entrance, she walks a little taller, holds her head a little higher, and fixes a smile upon her face - one more step to combat the nerves she’s feeling.

Th’ero will keep his eyes on Thys, noting her reaction and the visible case of nerves she’s battling through. All of which seem normal to him and so the Weyrleader remains unconcerned — for now. When she fumbles through her answer, his mouth twitches into the faintest of smiles and a chuckle laces his voice. “Try to relax if you can. Breathe. If we felt you couldn’t handle this, you’d not be here right now. You’ll be alright,” he reassures her again and takes another step back. He’ll watch her gather herself and begin to walk towards Keystone proper before turning back to Velokraeth and mounting up the straps once more. True to his word, the pale bronze springs aloft and glides away over the trees, leaving only Rhenesath now in that clearing and Thys to her fate with the cotholders. She won’t have to wait long until the head of the family appears and presumedly the cotholder of Keystone. He’s an older man, lean and roughened by Turns of hard work and weather but his eyes are filled with warmth and kindness, if not a certain wry wickedness. His wife is short and heavy set but much like her husband: rough on the outside, stern looking, but kind in a sort of gruff, brash manner. They greet Thys with polite respect at first which soon turns into them treating her like long lost kin, welcoming her and the older man is not against claiming that his cothold is not much to look at but its ‘home’ as she’s led on a little tour’. “An’ you can see we’ve a modest herd too.” He waves a gnarled hand towards the small stone barn where other family members are hard at work about their chores. “We be modest folks, us, all through ‘n through generations. Been through it all, seen it all… Heard about the trouble up in Fort Hold ‘n Peyton Hold.” he asks shrewdly, while his wife just clucks her tongue at him, which he promptly ignores.

The warmth of the greeting she receives does set Thys at ease somewhat, and she’s able to keep her head held high as she formally presents herself to the folk of Keystone. Her reactions as she’s taken around the holding are all polite, interested, complimentary; praising of the way that things are run, and how the place does, indeed, feel very much like a home. And then the real work begins, when they approach the herd. “Ah, yes,” Thys replies, nodding her head. “There’s been trouble with the beasts there, yes. A respiratory illness, the Beastcraft said, though we’ve been assured that they’re working as fast as they can on a cure, and I can assure you that preventative measures to stop the spread are in place. Though I won’t lie, there have been a few isolated incidents within the area, but they have been dealt with as necessary.” It’s not a pleasant topic, so the smile and warm expression she maintained during her tour are dutifully schooled into something more sombre. “We also understand that it can possibly spread to people. Have you noticed any signs - any coughing, fever, anything like that, either in your hold or your herd?”

The old man’s mood sobers too when Thys elaborates on the news, scrubbing his hand along his stubbly chin while he mutters a few words under his breath. His wife shakes her head too, clucking her tongue once more as if disappointed. “Shame. Downright shame… Probably the too wet spring that done it! And likely someone out there keepin’ their beasts too crowded.” She sniffs and then smiles warmly to the young goldrider even as her brows knit together in puzzled concern. “Jumpin’ to folks now too? Well, that is troubling.” She looks up at her husband, who has gone silent with a deep frown etched on his features. Both end up shaking their heads, with the old man answering Thys. “Can’t say we have. Herd is fine and the illnesses have been nothing out of the ordinary. Just seasonal aches and pains. Are we to watch out for this, then? Who do we contact, aside from the Hall and Hold?” he asks and they’ve begun to move again in a slow pace towards the main building. If Thys isn’t careful, she’ll be invited in for brunch and tea, no doubt and likely never able to escape! Unless that is the plan? Not likely, as Th’ero did say he’d be back within the candlemark.

“Bad husbandry or the spring weather may have been a cause, ma’am, but there’s been nothing confirmed as of yet,” Thys explains, standing with her hands clasped gently before her; a serious sort of stance, but not one that’s too closed off. “It’s possible that it’s the same illness that’s inflicted a few people - we’ve had a little of it in our lower caverns, but it is the season for such things and as of this morning, the Healers hadn’t officially linked it with the herdbeasts’ affliction… but you can’t be too careful, can you? We recommend taking whatever precautions you can, to keep the illness out of your herd and home.” The better safe than sorry approach is one the goldrider seems especially keen on. As for who they can contact? “Well,” she says, walking alongside the holders, “besides the Beastcraft and the Healers, you’re welcome to contact myself or any sweepriders passing over. We’ll provide you with what aid we can, though it could be the case that if you haven’t had any incidents yet, you may remain free of it altogether. Fingers crossed, hrm?”

The wife seems to accept Thys’ answer well enough and even seems reassured by the goldrider’s openness. Both she and her husband nod their heads again, sharing glances and subtle and cryptic gestures only they are likely to understand. “Aye, we’ll be taking those precautions. We’ve always abided the Weyr and Halls, even the Holds when things like this come about.” The old man informs her, while his wife politely excuses herself and slips back inside. “Fingers crossed! All we can do at this point, eh? You’re too kind to offer your help and not to sound ungrateful but I hope we do not have to call upon you. That said, care to pop in for a bit? Should still have some food fit enough to serve and a cup ‘o tea or klah if you’d care for it?” He offers, in warm and welcoming hospitality. Just then, however, Velokraeth makes his return and comes to land neatly in the very clearing that Rhenesath rests. « She’s still at it? » the pale bronze inquires with rippling amusement to the young gold. « Must be going well then! »

Thys bobs her head at the woman when she leaves them, dipping into a shallow curtsey. To the remaining husband, she smiles. “I hope you don’t have to call on us, either,” she echoes, and she look almost ready to accept the offer of tea when she’s distracted by Velokraeth’s appearance. « It goes well! » Rhenesath bombards the bronze with one of her lightning-quick montages, recapping the events she’s been curiously keeping an eye on in a matter of moments. « And now they offer refreshments. Mine asks whether yours would care to join, or if she has to come away now? » While she waits for her lifemate to relay a response, Thys looks back to the Holder. “That would be the Weyrleader returning, sir. It may be that I’m required back at the Weyr, though if that’s not the case I would be delighted to join you for a cup of klah, so long as it’s not putting you out in any way?” Yes, he may have offered, but Thys is still politely hesitant enough to give him the room to change his mind should he have made the invitation out of politeness.

Velokraeth absorbs that lightining-quick montage with hardly a ruffle of his wings or a flick of his tail, even if it makes his head spin a bit. « I see that she has been well received and they do not waver on their generous hospitality to riders! » He rumbles to Rhenesath, amused and pleased. « She will have to come back and rejoin us. We’ve other holds to visit before the day is done. Mine says she can always offer to come back another time. » The old man remains oblivious to this conversation, his gaze expectant and curious as he waits on Thys’ response. He does not hide the slight disappointment but with a low chuckle he grins, “Understandable, ma’am! We’ll take no offence if you need to head off but know you’re always welcome! ‘N the Weyrleader too, of course. And nah, you’re not putting us out in any way! Always glad to host a rider, anytime!” he boasts proudly.

« She will come, once she gives a proper goodbye. » Whether that comes from Rhenesath or from Thys might be unclear. The gold stretches luxuriously, flexing her wings and arching her back with her rump in the air, like a satisfied cat. She doesn’t mind waiting a little longer, and she seems to expect Velokraeth and his rider to feel the same. Thys, unable to help grinning at the holder’s enthusiasm, dips into a curtsey for him. “It’s a pleasure to be here and be of service to you, sir. If I find some free time I’ll come back and have that klah, if you’ll allow it.” Then, back to a little more seriousness; “Please remember we’re available to assist, should you need it. Thank you kindly for the tour of your property, but I’d best not keep the Weyrleader waiting too long - I will let him know he’s invited to visit as well, of course.” She dips into another, more shallow curtsey, then looks over her shoulder to where Rhenesath is stretching. “Clear skies and good health to you and your family.” Her parting motion is a salute, before she turns to march smartly back to her lifemate, her face flush and her smile huge as she gets close to Velokraeth and Th’ero. “That wasn’t so bad! They’re all healthy, herds and people, and they know what signs to look for. We’re also both invited back for refreshments.”

« Of course, of course. » Velokraeth rumbles, not in the least bit ruffled or impatient and that could be partially because of his attention swinging to observe Rhenesath’s satisfied stretching, though for once it may be purely in innocent amusement. However long that’ll last, one never knows. The pale bronze is well known for his hot blooded appetites. Back at the hold proper, the old man bows in return to Thys’ curtsey and his features are alight with a broad grin. “We’ll remember! Thank you for your visit and well wishes! Clear skies to you too and good forturne to you and yours.” The salute is returned as well, though the old man makes it slightly less formal and more of a casual thing before he’s striding off to join his wife inside. As Thys makes her way back to Rhenesath and Velokraeth, a few children can be seen rushing from the trees, giggling and talking hurriedly amongst themselves and giving the young goldrider an awed and curious look (and maybe a hurried salute or two) before they disappear back towards the old barn. No doubt they were lurking as close as they dared to sneak a peek of the young gold and the Weyrleader’s bronze. “Keystone has always been very generous and welcoming to riders,” Th’ero admits to Thys, though his faint smile shows signs that he’s pleased none-the-less that she managed to go about her first political visit without much of a hiccup. “Now, we’ve other holds to visit. Mount up and Velokraeth will share with Rhenesath where we’re to go…”

Velokraeth does just that, while they wait for Thys to mount up and buckle in. The image sent over the link is of another cothold but in more open land. A minor hold lays in the distance, half obscured by fog. « We are to go here next. The cothold first and then the minor Hold. » Something in the bronze’s tone hints at displeasure, but if pressed he simply brushes it off with a ripple of amusement. « When you are ready, fair lady! Fly and I will follow. » She’s to take the lead again, of course and when they make the successful jump Between, they will arrive over the plains. The visit to the cothold will be brief. The folk there aren’t much for conversation and Thys may find her inquiries met with cool curtness that borders on rudeness. If that didn’t try her patience enough, the next visit might for the minor Hold that Th’ero has brought her too is none other than Gold Hill Hold. Infamous for their past corruption and almost allowing Laris and his men to take it from within, the previous Lord Holder, Unvar and his son, Unevyr, were tried and convicted to exile. Lady Holder Lleynn and her daughter Llunva now hold, neither of which have married and while Gold Hill prospers again, it is far from a welcoming place for riders. Though Thys is welcomed, its a hollow sort of welcome and despite the fires burning in the hearths of the great hall, the whole hold feels cold and Lady Lleynn’s mannerisms don’t help as she guides the young goldrider inside. This time, notably, Th’ero follows but the Weyrleader stays a few strides behind and looking just as stony in expression and blatantly ignoring Llunva’s attempts to gain his attention unless he absolutely must give her an answer or risk being (even more) impolite.

The progressive difficulty of the situations she’s being placed in is certainly noted by Thys, who stands before Lady Lleynn with the coolest expression she can muster. Hands clasped before her, stance somewhat demure without being submissive, she bows her head to the Lady Holder and then dips into a curtsey. “Lady Lleynn, I am Thys, gold Rhenesath’s of Fort Weyr. It’s a pleasure to be here to make your acquaintance.” She straightens up, offering the woman before her a warm smile. « This is not as easy, » Rhenesath comments to Velokraeth, from where she’s made herself comfortable once more. She’s mentally attentive, tuned into the proceedings her rider is involved in, with the tang of the forge heavy in her mind. “Beyond introducing myself, ma’am, I am here to see if all is well within your Hold, in light of the herdbeast sickness that has been found in several herds, from Fort to Peyton and beyond. Has anything been reported to you regarding any illness, ma’am? And is there anything that we can do to either alleviate or prevent it?”

“I know who you are,” Lady Lleynn answers with one of her cool, thin smiles as she regards Thys with an equally as cold look from over her narrow nose. Her eyes give the young goldrider the once over and she makes the tiniest little sniff that seems to say ‘so this is Fort’s latest rider to a queen? Hmph.’ Clearly, the pleasure is one sided, but the Lady of Gold Hill Hold knows better than to outright refuse hospitality to Fortian riders — if this can even be considered hospitality. Standing tall and stiffly straight, Lady Lleynn’s hands clasp together in front of her as she listens indifferently to Thys’ speech and even before she speaks again, it’ll be obvious that there will be nothing helpful or good that comes out of this spiteful old woman’s mouth. Only she’s making sure to sweeten it just enough so as not to give her grounds to call her on it. “I can assure you if anything was amiss we’d… alert the proper authorities. We’ve had no cases here, either beast or human. Do not trouble yourself needlessly!” In other words: mind your business, you meddling riders! Th’ero clears his throat, earning a sharp look from Lady Lleynn that turns to a barely concealed look of dislike that is hastily smoothed over as her mouth twitches into another tense, thin smile that never reaches her eyes. “You are, of course, welcome to see the barns and stables…” Words that seem to cost her to say and it’s a wonder she doesn’t grind her teeth in the process. “But I must leave you, as I have some business to attend too.” Unlikely. “Weyrleader, weyrwoman. Good day to you both. Llunva, come with me!” Lleynn beckons to her daughter, who looks sullen and pouty for being called away and for failing to charm Th’ero. Outside, Velokraeth rumbles so low it is almost a growl. « No, it is not. Gold Hill has never been warm to riders or the Weyr. We do not know why or how it came to be, but nothing has been right since it’s fall and the Lord exiled. » There’s a brief pause and the bronze’s mind ripples again, almost comforting, to Rhenesath. « We should go. »

“We’re glad to hear all is well for you and yours, Lady Lleynn,” Thys replies with a deep, solemn bow of her head, that requires her to brush her fringe from her eyes when she looks back up at the Lady. She doesn’t look at all bothered when the woman starts to excuse herself and her daughter. “Should you wish for any assistance, please know we’ll be happy to provide it. As you have clearly stated your beasts are in good health, we will take our leave.” Thys dips into a curtsey, looking up at their host. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lleynn, Lady Llunva.” While she waits for them to make their exit she retreats a little to fall in line with Th’ero, standing demurely by his side until they turn to leave. Then, though? She can’t wait to be free of the place and lengthens her walking stride so as not to be seen to be running. « Flame would warm them, » Rhenesath comments airily, sending a ripple of her typically present fire flickering across her mindscape and into Velokraeth’s. Once they’re beyond the Hold and away from keen ears, Thys huffs out a deep, long breath. “Faranth,” she gasps as she expels air, bowing her head. “I’ve heard of Holders not keen on dragonfolk, but that…” A shake of her head is all she can use to explain it. “Are there any more visits we need to pay today, Weyrleader?”

Lady Lleynn only curtly nods her head and then with turns with a hurried swish of her heavy (expensive) dress with her daughter trotting along on her heels like a well trained pup. Any of the drudges pay them no mind even now that the riders have been left alone in the hall, but one could feel their sidelong glances all the same. Definitely time to go! Th’ero’s gaze seems transfixed on the dim lit tunnel that the Lady and her daughter disappeared into and then with a snort, he comes back to the present and with a nod to Thys, turns on his heel to stride out of the accursed Hold. He’s about as eager as her to put as much distance between themselves and Gold Hill and so matches her stride easily. It’s not until the young goldrider has expressed herself a bit and they’re closer to the dragons that Th’ero finally speaks up and his voice sounds almost controlled. How could he not be ruffled by that meeting, even if it was Thys who bore the brunt of the brusqueness from the Lady Holder! “That is not the worst. Gold Hill’s relation with the Weyr has always been poor. This — was actually a reasonable meeting. You handled it well, Thys. Even Nyalle, I don’t think, would find fault with your behavior. You did your duty but more importantly… you did not rise to the needling from Lady Lleynn.” Glancing up to the sky as if to gauge the time, the Weyrleader then fixes Thys with a curious look and perhaps a touch of concern. Is he asking too much of her? “That would be up to you,” he offers instead. “We could continue the circuit, which would see us go back to the coast to Fort Sea Hold and then far north to Stonehaven cothold. Both, I assure you, are warmly receptive to dragonriders, especially Ezra Stonehaven. Then we can return to the Weyr. Or,” He glances off into the distance. “We can return to Fort now and save those visits for another day.” There will be no fault if she admits to have had enough of a taste of politics and formality for one day! “And… I believe Nyalle will wish to speak with you too by the day’s end. You’ve more than proven yourself capable and ready…” Which means…!

“It’s easy to ignore baiting when it’s done so blatantly,” Thys replies to Th’ero, with an askew grin. “And Lady Lleynn couldn’t have been more obvious that she was hoping for a rise from me, or us. I think her daughter had eyes for you, you know.” She laughs, giving the Weyrleader a cheerful wink and a click of her tongue in her cheek. As for if it’s her decision to continue or not, she gives a gentle shrug of her shoulder. “I don’t mind if we continue on now. It might be good to get all the meeting of people done now - if we’re talking to them about the sickness, then perhaps it’s best to check in sooner rather than later.” As for Nyalle wanting to speak with her, she grins, her cheeks colouring slightly. “Am I ready to join Phoenix’s ranks, sir?”

Th’ero smirks but chuckles dryly, “Observant of you and correctly so. Lady Lleynn barbs and baits but she is not dangerous despite the venom she may spit. It’s the ones who play a cryptic game who are dangerous and best to use caution around.” And he won’t be throwing her into that fire quite yet, if ever. He gives Thys a sharp look for her wink and he coughs, looking askance as he does. “Yes. Well. She cannot get a hint. You need to be — wary of those tactics too. From men.” Duh. Though he hazards a guess that Thys may have already assumed this. “Then we’ll continue on.” Th’ero agrees and offers her a faint and crooked smile. “You are, but you’ll get your knot and badge from Nyalle as is proper. You’ll be her junior, not mine. Shall we?” He gestures to their waiting dragons and the Weyrleader will mount up again once Thys gives the affirmative. As promised, Velokraeth will share the image of Fort Sea Hold first to Rhenesath and he was speaking the truth when he said their welcome there would be as warm as Keystone Hold. Stonehaven is much the same, even for such a small remote cothold up in the north. No signs of illness and many pleasantries are exchanged, which will hopefully wash away the ill reception given at Gold Hill Hold.

The rest of the visits are certainly easier than Gold Hill Hold, and Thys seems to continue enjoying them, right through until the final visit. As they leave Stonehaven, she takes a moment to lean against Rhenesath, smiling contentedly, if tiredly, at Th’ero. “That was enjoyable, if somewhat draining.” And yet she’s relaxed, stroking her lifemate’s hide. “Home now, though?” There’s a hint of hope in her tone, and the half-turns to mount Rhenesath - whether they’re homeward bound or heading to another hold, she shimmies up her dragon’s side to await the Weyrleader’s instructions. « I would like somewhere dry to sun myself after washing this mud from me. » Not that Rhenesath sounds all that bothered about the mud she’d picked up on her paws and belly during their visits. « My ledge is calling me. It wants company. » So that makes her preference clear, even though Thys leaves that decision up to Th’ero. Wherever he directs them to next, she gives the signal for them to go - to take off, rise, and go between.