Who Aignes, F'inn, K'zre
What The weyrlings work through a challenging exercise on teamwork (they sorta pass?)
When Summer - Month 7 of Turn 2718
Where Room Name, Area Name

icon1.jpg finn_default.png kez_default.png


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.


"Well, fuck." If K'zre had a mug in his hand, he would likely be throwing it at the wall right out. Just for the minor satisfaction of seeing something shatter and break into itty, bitty pieces. But Kez doesn't have a mug, sadly. What he DOES have, is a discombobulated pile of leather bits and pieces that he THOUGHT was his work-in-progress straps but, turns out, is really a jumbled mess of EVERYONE's leathers. Cause M'icha. Thankfully, while Kez looks like he needs to take up meditative, deep-breathing exercises to abort a potential burst blood vessel, Yasminath is snoozing away on her couch, dead to the world and none the wiser. With a sigh that sounds suspiciously like it might have been a growl, the healer-turned-weyrling dives into the pile and starts pulling out strips of leather that clearly do not belong. "I think this is yours, Aignes." Is Aignes even IN the barracks? Well, regardless, a leather strap is going to be sailing toward her cot right about *NOW*. "This is definitely F'inn's…" comes with another subsequent leather-strap-throw in the general direction of Nymionth's couch. And then, "Ugh, I really /hope/ that's Szorvilkyth's slobber…" and not, you know… something a bit more questionable.

Aignes is definitely in the barracks, although possibly easy to overlook since she's currently under an equally large pile of jumbled straps. She slowly raises her glance up from the pile and over at her fellow weyrling, then back to the mess in front of her. "I don't think… hey!" The hey is for when things come flying her way. "I already have more than enough. Take it back." She'll reach over and toss it back towards Kez, but it was a rather lazy toss and her aim isn't great to begin with. Where it lands, anybody knows! Czarduinath meanwhile is giving an equally mournful look at the pile of cast off leather scraps Aignes is currently working with and a green mist of rain begins falling on the emerald city, with no firelizard shows to be seen today. « How can they be expected to make anything usable out of that??? »

Fortunately, Nymionth is snoozing, as well. So F'inn is free of his dragon's running commentary on the importance of excellence. Unfortunately, whether Nym is asleep, or not, F'inn is still subject to his dragon's unnaturally large empathic nature and K'zre's anger and frustration? It hits him like a wave. "Oi." Immediately, his hands go to his temples, his weight shifting as he rolls to his feet and raises his hands in a calming gesture. "Alright, it sucks," he assures. "But take a breath. We can come at this logically…. Toss the larger straps into a pile, those are either mine or Kaets. Aignes should be able to recognize her stitches. C'los' will be more whimsically cut and yours will be the ones with precise cuts." "Aignes!" he chides when the leather throwing continues. "That's not going to help." Wading into the pile, he starts pulling out the larger pieces and tossing them into a pile near his cot. "If we do this systematically it will be fine."

K'zre huffs and just… glares at F'inn. The logical healer does not want to hear logical things right now, thankyouverymuch. He wants to be pissed off and kick things! Like that leather strap right there. KICK. It goes… exactly nowhere because it's rather large and tangled with the other straps. But at least it was leather, and therefore unable to really inflict injury in return. "What?" he shoots toward Aignes, scowling. It's a much more convincing expression since Yasminath is asleep. Much more in line with his 'pre-Impression' expressions. "It's yours," he asserts. And while he might not say so? K'zre might just be sharing Czarduinath's thoughts on the matter. How *will* they make anything decent out of this madness? As F'inn joins him in the pile, Kez at least starts sorting through it once again. This time, it's much more methodical as he actively seeks out the larger pieces to shove into 'F'inn or Kaet's' pile and pulls the prettier ones into a 'probably Aignes maybe C'los' pile, and the 'this was done with militant, surgical precision' into a 'definitely Kez' pile.

"And I think it's your's. And even if it wasn't now… you can still use it," Aignes huffs herself as she tries to deal with her own gordian knot of straps. And considering how similiar in size the two greens are, it's probably even true that it could still be used. The former weaver rolls her eyes as F'inn has to go and bring logic into this but since he is volunteering with the sorting she'll place (and not throw the next piece she'd gotten free into the Kaet/F'inn pile. Maybe a belly band of some sort? There's definitely half a buckle still attached that jingles as it's set down and she gives the bronze-weyrling a 'are you happy now?' look.

F'inn flashes a lopsided smile in the face of that glare, his demeanor utterly relaxed as he goes about the business of helping K'zre sort the jumbled mess of straps. "It's not that bad," he assures. "We'll have this sorted in no time." Drawing out the pieces he 'knows' he made, he drapes them carefully over the end of his impeccably made cot, the others that are far to large for any of the greens finding their way to Kaet's cot. At Aignes -look- he arches a brow returning it with a very pointed -are you serious- look aimed right back at her. "A little organization goes a long way," he points out as he picks up the belly strap and drapes it over his cot. "You /both/ need a nap." Or a spanking if this keeps up.

"I *did not* make that strap," insists K'zre, eyeing the returned bit of leather as though it might bite him. Or he might bite it. SOMETHING is gonna get bit, okay! "And I don't want to use it, if I didn't make it. That would be… cheating." Or something. He's just irritated, and not at all opposed to making that fact very obvious. Another glare, this time toward the pile of leather bits. He's halfway to drawing a rather long, skinny strap from the tangle when he stops and just… looks at F'inn. "Did you… did you really just say that?" There's a very 'who are you and what did you do with F'inn' look. Only on Kez, it's kind of… serious rather than sarcastic. "I don't need a nap. YOU need a nap." Grump-grump.

"Then maybe it's C'los." Aignes shrugs. Luckily for her, that latest piece she was tugging on seemed to be the lynch pin holding the whole tangled discombobulation together. Now she's just got a pile of flippity-floppity pieces, but that's a lot easier to sort. "These aren't going to be the ones we actually use right? Surely we'll need more practice?" She glances over at both the guys under the fact that they've lived in weyrs longer. Then her glare is back at F'inn as she huffs again. "A nap won't solve anything. There would still be a mess to deal with. And I wouldn't be able to fall asleep regardless."
"My point, exactly," F'inn notes in the wake of K'zre's retorte. He does not mention that if this were the nursery, someone would be in a timeout. He's thinking it, though. Oh, is he thinking it. "Looking at me like I've grown a second head, when I simply behaving /exactly/ how you -both- thought I should be behaving before all this started is ridiculous." And maybe a little bit amusing given the twinkle in pale blue eyes. "These are practice," F'inn assures Aignes. "We'll probably have to make them over and over again before M'icha allows us to use any of them." At the glare, he sighs and ruffles a hand through spikey blond hair. "We're getting through the mess right now," he reminds. "There is no need for being surly."

That strap is C'los' strap? "Sure." Kez is not going to contest that, and the absent (or possibly snoozing) weyrling can make the final decision. For now? That strap is just going to be ignored. Pointedly. "I don't know," he huffs. "Why would they take all the practice pieces and turn them into… this," counters Kez, who tops off the complaint with a sweeping gesture of his hand to indicate both piles of mess. "What's the point?" Maybe… working through frustration? Teambuilding? Learning to breathe through stress?! At least K'zre is maaaaaybe calming down with some manual labor and an end in sight (there might be floor beneath those leathers!). Which means the idea of repetitive practice is met with only a little annoyance rather than mug-shattering fury. Even if he's shooting another look at F'inn for that last comment there. Progress comes in that he does NOT snap back something unhelpful but rather snaps his mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth and just… gets to sorting.

That strap might be ignored, but that's just fine with the strap. Since K'zre isn't moving it and Aignes isn't moving it, it'll just chill out where it was tossed, half hidden underneath the edge of the cot to be found at a later time. Aignes is also ignoring it although she keeps staring at the straps she's sorting as if trying to add things up but eventually coming to a stop. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say this seems like some sort of cruel prank. Maybe it wasn't the weyrlingmasters that did this…" Her eyes dart over towards F'inn and his way too chipper self. "I'd have no problem practicing over and over again. It's the whole untangling things that weren't tangled when I know I carefully put them away that's the problem."

"Being able to work together as a unit is important," F'inn points out. "I suspect we'll be doing this very task over and over until we can get through it without biting off each other's heads." Glancing between the two, F'inn frowns, /sighs/ pointedly and steps over to pick up the strap and drape it over C'los' cot. "And if we don't do it /right/," he points out. "We'll probably have to repeat it more times then you'd like." Really, all things being equal? LOOK at the size of Nym, F'inn's gotten very good with patience just having to bathe and oil that massive bronze lump. "Do it right the first time and we're a step ahead of the game."

At least some of those straps are making into the 'this is mine' pile that Kez has going. And they are just a surgically-precise in cut as might be expected. And utterly devoid of anything that might make them 'pretty'. "A prank?" He's not so sure about that, and the skeptical look gets aimed at Aignes rather than F'inn. "Unless it was R'hra…" because Kez has not forgotten the mug-to-hand incident. He's still looking surly, but at least his grump is not interfering with his abilities to sort through the straps. A squinty-eyed look for F'inn at his suggestion that this is for their benefit, though the expression is less for the bronzerider and more for the thought that this will be repeated. "What do you mean 'get it right'?" He stands with a long strap conveniently draped around his shoulders, an apprehensive frown pulling dark brows downward as he glances between F'inn and Aignes. "I *was* doing it right. I had everything cut perfectly, laid out…" It was going to be awesome! Now it's a mess.

For now, Aignes' straps are strictly utilitarian, but doubtless as soon as she can put ornamentation on a set, Czarduinath will absolutely insist that she have it. Utterly bedazzled straps here they come. Aignes groans at the reminder of R'hra's pranking. "It could totally have been R'hra. Maybe if we stay really quiet, we'll catch him cracking up around the corner." Even as she is tossing out conspiracy theories left and right, she has mostly freed her pile of all the not-green sized pieces. There might still be a few of Kez and C'los, but she's getting there. "And I agree with K'zre." Look, agreement. Not head biting. Even if they're only united in their disagreement against F'inn. "I had it right. I was almost done…"

"Working /together/," F'inn points out. "Without strife and discord. All things being equal, something like this /feels/ like a teambuilding exercise." Glancing at the precisely cut straps, he slants K'zre and Aignes a long look while noting. "Everything is still precisely cut and perfect, laying it back out is not going to be that tedious. I doubt it is a prank. Even R'hra would not risk pulling a prank right under M'icha's nose." It would be impractical, at best. Tugging the bigger pieces out of the remaining pile, he sets them on his cot before gathering up the rest and settling the pieces aside for Kaet.

K'zre and Aignes. United in thought once more. Just like the good ol' days! At least no one's licking crumbs from the floor. >.> But really, nothing curbs anger like manual labor. It's hard to be pissed off and wrestling with leather straps, but Kez gives it a try anyways. His glares are aimed at the straps, his occasional snort of disagreement coming for internal complaints rather than voiced once. But the mention that this is a teambuilding exercise has him hesitating, straightening once more and looking somewhat torn between alarm and dismay. A moment later and he's shrugging it off and diving back in, working through the thinner pieces that are especially insidious in their ability to get spaghetti-like tangles. "How would they even know if we worked as a team? It's not like they're watching…" Right?!

Nymionth shelters Yas under a wing and sighs. « They're tarnishing their own reputations, princess. »

No human at least. No crumb may be too small for a certain brown clutchmate to inhale after all. "It's not like M'icha didn't know that R'hra was a prankster before making him his assistant. Maybe it was a plan…." Aignes is just going for the whole blame everyone and everything for your problems. Grand Evil Machinations of the world against her and her fellow weyrlings (unless F'inn actually is the prankster which she hasn't completely ruled out). As for how would they know, she points upwards. "Plenty of places for firelizards to hide. Besides, we haven't done more that forcefully toss a few things. And the straps are getting sorted. Team, built."

"What makes you think they are not watching us," F'inn notes in matter of fact tones. He would not be the least bit surprised to learn that there are spy holes in the barracks. He does, however, cast Aignes a level look at her last, one brow twitching mildly. "If you heard apprentices grumping and complaining like what has gone on here, you would not be pleased, Aignes." None of them would, and he knows that for a fact. "Still, I could be wrong." He's pretty certain he is not wrong. "And the work is getting done." So there is that, at least.

"My firelizards are not adequate spies," declares K'zre. Apparently the Aignes-Kez Mind-Meld has already dissolved, cause he's definitely not agreeing with her on this one. "I doubt their firelizards are any better at it." But maybe? Who knows? The idea of holes in the wall has not even occurred to Kez, who looks rather confused by F'inn's question. "Because…" and there's a look up one side of the barracks, then down the other, "They're not here…" Of the grumbling of apprentices, he cannot argue. And he knows it. So he just takes to looking sullen and annoyed once more, rather than conceding to the bronzer's point. "It's almost done," he sighs in resignation. "And then we can get back to actually making straps." Or feeding, bathing, oiling or playing with Yas, who seems to be stirring just a little bit. Just a twitch or two of her tail, a rustle of wings.

It's probably a good thing the Aignes-Kez Mind-Meld has a limited shelf life. Imagine their combined nay-saying powers if it remained full strength? There'd be no fun anywhere! and Safety always first! The former weaver just shrugs again as she starts assembling what she assumes are her straps. "Just because someone isn't here doesn't mean they aren't watching. Besides, if Aycheth simply asked Yasminath or Nymionth how things went today, what do you think they'd say?" Nevermind the dragons (even the formerly awake Czarduinath) all seem to be drowsing.

F'inn just glances at K'zre, his shoulders rising and falling in an easy shrug. "They are not," he agrees. "But I am certain they have some method of monitoring what we are doing." He would. Well, he would /now/. Pre-hatching? Not so much. "Nymionth is asleep," F'inn points out as he perches on his cot and starts organizing his own straps. "But he'd ask me and promptly inform them of what happened." He's not being rude, just honest. "On the upside, we have made it through the task, no one is bleeding or crying and our straps should come together relatively quickly."

A snort and Kez replies, "Nothing. Because she is asleep." He'll even take a peek at her to make sure that is the case and, while there is definitely some signs of life, Yas is the 'slow to rise' sort. It'll be a little while longer before she's aware enough to be telling anyone anything. K'zre must judge himself to have enough time to sit down and start sorting through his pile of 'this is mine' straps, because that is exactly what he does. Ignoring the (considerably smaller) pile of leather left to be sorted, he drops himself to the floor of the barracks and begins organizing his pieces in a manner that must make sense to him. A rough, suspiciously 'grunt' sounding noise from the healer-weyrling for F'inn's last, and while he shoots the other weyrling a long, long look, it's less scowly and more… petri-dish-specimen study.

"Nothing yet…" Aignes let's the yet just drag on out a little longer for emphasis. "But you're right. We made it through it. we all have straps. Or will." And nobody died. Success! And now she's just going to be very, very quiet as she focuses on the strap assembly. Maybe she'll finish early and actually get that nap she apparently needs.

"What?" F'inn's rejoineder is coupled with a lopsided smile aimed at K'zre, his shoulders rolling in a fluid shrug. "Nymionth likes things done the right way. Honor is important and I'm not about to disagree with that thought." To prove his point, he sets in to securing the buckles on his own set of straps, his nose wrinkling mildly as he realizes that, by the time he finishes, Nym will already have outgrown them. "Oi."

Whatever K'zre was going to say is aborted when Yasminath lifts her head and offers a huge baby-dragon yawn. « I'm huuuuuuungry! » she whines, in pitiful tones. And just like that Kez's focus shifts from leather-and-weyrlings to the little green and her stomach. Duty calls!


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