Who F'inn, K'zre
What Dragonhealing. Dragon-mindscapes.
When Summer - Month 7 of Turn 2718
Where Center Bowl, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Center Bowl
The wide center of the bowl is often bustling with activity as riders come and go. Off westward can be seen the entrances for the candidate barracks and the guest weyr, while to the east is a large opening that leads into the dragon infirmary. The bowl stretches off both to the north and to the south, where the sheer stone walls rise steeply to the sky.

F'inn and Nymionth were up before the sun and out of the barracks while everyone was still asleep. Course, feeding Nymionth had been priority one and, in the wake of that, they'd made their way over to the infirmary. It is not lost on F'inn that what was once (at least with humans) his least favorite place, is now calling to him like a siren's song. Fortunately, there seem to be dragonhealers there at all hours of the day or night and it had taken very little convincing for them to put the pair to work. F'inn? He got the ever so glorious task of cleaning out wallows and making sure that the cots for the riders are clean and undamaged. Nym? He'd been sent off with one of the dragonhealers to use his particular abilities with a very old dragon needing to have yuck pulled out of his teeth. Eventually, after hours and hours of drudge work, one of the dragonhealers had taken pity on F'inn and given him a book of dragon anatomy to read. It is this that has both him /and/ Nymionth occupied. At the moment, Nymionth has one wing extended and curiously watching F'inn comparing the wing with the pictures in the book. F'inn? A little bit frustrated- particularly since this is absolutely nothing like what he is used to. "Well, if you'd /stay still/ it would be easier to match things up, Nymionth." The tones are a bit on the frustrated side and promptly followed with the book being put down in favor of hugging Nym's massive head. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "You're doing fine, I promise. It's me." Drawing back in the wake of eyeridge scritching, he goes back to comparing the picture with the actual wing. "Who named this stuff," he sighs. "I think I knew girl named Aileron…"

While Nymionth and F'inn have been occupied with drudgery in the infirmary, Yasminath and K'zre have staked out a sunny patch of grass in the center of the weyrbowl. Recently awoken from a nap, and still glossy from a recent oiling, the green has been spending her time (CAREFULLY!) exploring the center of Fort's weyrbowl while Kez, seated on a blanket and surrounded by bits of leather, has been attempting to piece together his straps. It's slow going, especially as every time Yasminath finds a new flower she likes, Kez must pause in his work to jot a note in the small notepad he's brought with him. Nymionth's appearance was an incredible distraction, but while obviously curious about what they're doing, Yasminath has kept her distance at the insistence of K'zre. It is only after the umpteeth-time of telling her 'not yet' that, with a sigh, Kez tosses aside the half-finished riding straps and hauls himself to his feet and makes his way over. "Yasminath wants to know what you're doing," he offers by way of greeting. It is unnecessary, given that the second that K'zre was moving towards the pair, she was bounding (CAREFULLY!) across the field to stuff her nose into the situation. « Why is F'inn hugging your face? Why is your wing outstretched? Is that a good story? I want to hear it! » She's entirely misunderstood the purpose of that book.

F'inn is aware of Yasminath in the distance. Course, he's mostly aware of that because Nymionth has been tracking her like a bloodhound. The moment she is close enough, however, any hope of studying is lost and Nymionth is promptly stretching out his neck to croon at her adoringly. « F'inn is silly. He is learning about our anatomy and using my wing as a guide. The story is not so good as your flowers. We should play.» All of that is returned with a wash of roses and a none-to-subtle wiggling that frees him from F'inn. For a moment, F'inn just stares at the pair, his lips fighting not to twitch into a smile (And failing). "Go on and play," he urges Nymionth and Yasminath. "I will read you both Benjamin Bunny before you go to sleep tonight." Freed from studying, Nymionth bounds toward Yasminath, catching himself at the last moment and trying for more sedate as he nudges her toward the flowers. « Show me your flowers, Princess. » As they move, F'inn's smile warms as it sweeps over to K'zre, the book held up with a playful grimace. "Dragon anatomy." Setting the book on the bench, he rolls his shoulders, his hands slipping in his pockets as he makes his way closer to Kez and settles in comfortably at his side. "She's the bright spot in his day," he notes with a smile that could only be called dopey.

« Anatomy? K'zre knows all about anatomy! » Thankfully, that is as much as Yasminath is going to discuss on the subject, despite feeling incredibly pleased and proud of her weyrling and his learnings. « Yes, let's play! » Carefully. The word hangs in the background of all she does, a constant reminder by Kez to keep herself from harm. There's no annoyance for it, just an affectionate whuffle of messy brown hair before she turns to Nymionth and offers, « I like these ones over here… » with abundant glee. Kez follows the dragons with a critical eye until he's certain that it is flowers and now rough-housing that will occupy them. And then it is F'inn and his book that has his gaze, an eyebrow twitched upward in mild surprise. "You've been in there all day." It's not a question, and yet it is. Kez is /curious/ about it. "Was it interesting?" As for brightspots and dopey smiles… there's a long, long look toward F'inn before Kez just turns and heads back to his blanket and it's abundance of leather goods.

« K'zre will have help to F'inn study it then. F'inn needs the help. » Nymionth, however, is happy to let the matter go, crooning at Yasminath as she leads him around to introduce him to her flowers. « Have you named them? » He is all to happy to snuffle at the flowers, though, relishing the scent. "He won't let her get wild," F'inn assures in quiet tones. Glancing toward the infirmary, F'inn's lips twitch in a quiet smile, spikey blond hair flopping onto his brow as he nods his head. "It is. Weirdly, even doing drudge work was interesting in there." Stepping closer, he dips his chin in question toward the blanket, asking silently before just taking a seat. "They gave me a book on dragon anatomy to study, as well. Course, weyrling stuff needs to come first, but I'm free to come and go and help when I have the time to do so." Which, the Weyrlingmaster can shut down in an instant if F'inn doesn't take care of the things he needs to do. Falling silent for a few moments, his gaze sweeps back to the dragons, one knee drawing up to provide a brace for his arm as he watches the pair. "How are the straps coming along," he asks curiously.

Yasminath is being /very/ considerate of those flowers. But even so, it is likely that several will end up tramped beneath her feet. She can't help it. Even as a tiny, baby green she's still got some giant paws. « I think they already have names, » she confesses. She means the actual names of the flowers, which she does not recall and K'zre does not know. At least, he doesn't know them beyond the ones used in healing. « I like the little ones. » Let's be real, they're all little compared to the dragons. On his blanket, it takes K'zre a moment or two before he offers a quick, "You can sit," in answer to that unspoken question. For a little while, he works at piecing together the straps, eyes darting to where Yasminath and Nymionth are inspecting flowers. He's listening though. Even if he doesn't necessarily give any of the typical signs as such. No nodding of his head, or 'mmhm' that indicates active listening. Just silence and the occasional glance toward the dragons as he works at his straps. "Do you have a strong stomach?" he wonders, squinting briefly as he matches up two pieces of leather. "It's slow," he says for the leathers. "But I will be done soon." And indeed, despite having taken a considerably long time to get started, there is nothing sloppy about those straps. Each cut exact, each stitch surgical in precision, though the entire thing lacks anything that might be called embellishment or decoration.

« Daisies. » Nymionth provides as he inspects the flowers. « And these are bluebells, » he explains as he swings his head around to nose at the tiny blue flowers. Course, he only knows /that/ cause F'inn is the only male in a family of very girly girls who love flowers. "Thanks," F'inn laughs as he slants a glance at K'zre and smiles wryly. "Hrm?" Confused by the question for a moment, his brows furrow before he notes pointedly. "You've seen me eat, Kez. I have an iron stomach." Granted, he knows what Kez is asking and adds in more serious tones. "Blood, ichor, I guess in this case, that stuff doesn't bother me." Falling silent, he watches Kez working with the straps. "They look great," he admits. "Mine are not quite that neat, but they're close. Shockingly," is added with wink.

Delighted with the names, even if she's certain to forget them in a day or two, Yasminath carefully examines each as it is named. And on the blanket, K'zre pauses in his task, sets the leather aside and reaches for the notepad to make a quick note on her behalf. She might forget, but he won't. « K'zre says the flowers will not last forever, » she laments, moving to carefully sniff at a little pink primrose. « But that they will come back next Turn. » Which seems like a very, very long time away. "I have," and for a moment, there's a grimace and a slant of his gaze toward F'inn as he recalls just such a thing. It MIGHT be that sweater-frosting-sucking incident. Scarred Kez for life, that. (Not really tho). "Have you ever seen…" but he pauses, frowns. Reconsiders how he ought to approach his question and decides to ask, "What is the worst injury you have seen?" Running his fingers over the place where two pieces join, Kez reaches for the abandoned needle so that he can begin permanently affixing them together. "What do you mean, shockingly? You've been very diligent in your work. I'm not shocked at all. Well," he amends, pausing in the sewing to frown thoughtfully. "I am not shocked that your straps are neatly done. Perhaps shocked that you were so diligent in doing them." It is not MEANT to be an insult, just an honest confession.

Nymionth considers the words, conferring with F'inn for a moment before assuring. « They sleep in the winter time, but they do come back with every spring. How could they not come back when they know you will be here waiting for them? » Crooning soothingly in the wake of her lament, Nymionth is content to watch her delicately sniffing the flowers. "The worst injury?" Considering the question, F'inn is silent for a bit before frowning. "Once a kiln exploded. Shards of hot, molten clay went everywhere. An apprentice was so badly burned it looked like there was no flesh left on his arm, at all.. Just like.. twisted grey muscle and bone." At the time, it had been horrific. Even now it is not a particularly pleasant memory, but the impact has worn off considerably. "That was the worst," he admits. "Although Mena fell and broke her arm when she was very little and the bone stuck right through the skin." That was a bit grosser in his opinion, but maybe cause it was his sister. "I saw the twins born," he admits. "But that wasn't an 'injury'. Lots of blood, though." It's the last, however, that has him flashing a broad smile at Kez, his brows rising and falling in a playful twitch. "I kinda like that I managed to shock you in a not gross way."

Sadly, Yasminath cannot really smell those flowers. Not as well as her human might. But she makes the attempt and pretends that she can appreciate the subtle differences between each. « Do the roses sleep, too? » she wonders, lifting her head to regard Nymionth. While the green considers flowers, and builds a makeshift garden in her mind, K'zre considers F'inn and his experiences. A frown, though it is more the 'thinking' sort, than the sympathetic sort. In the end, there's a thoughtful "Mm," before he ducks his head to return to his work. "You should be fine, then," he concludes, passing the needle easily through the pre-punched holes and deftly stitching leather to leather. After a beat, two, three, he thinks to ask. "Is your sister alright? Is the apprentice?" Stitch-stitch, and then a careful knot to ensure the work does not unravel. A pause, a glance, but Kez isn't terribly sure how to respond to the last and it shows in his expression; a puzzled sort of look that knots his brow and draws a frown across his mouth. In the end, he decides, "I'm sure it won't be the last time," and goes back to his work.

« My roses never sleep, princess. » The assurance is coupled with a warm wash of brilliant colored roses wafting around Yasminath's mind. « I will always have roses for you. Always. » Without a hint of hesitation, Nymionth welcomes her into his own garden mindscape, letting her take what she pleases in the construction of her own. « See there, the fountain? And the trellis? You need those for the flowering vines.. And the pillars? They stretch up high enough to greet the moons when they rise.. » Nymionth clearly loves his sanctuary, the majestic expanse warm and welcoming. For a moment, F'inn is swept up in that 'other' place, exhaling a breath as he shakes his head and glances back at Kez. "Mena? Oh, yes. It happened years and years ago. The apprentice is scarred, but he recovered. His arm will never be what it was, but he's still quite skilled. I don't know where he is now," F'inn admits. It's the last that has F'inn smiling a bit more, his chin dipping in a nod as he folds his arms atop his updrawn knee.

Yasminath knows all about sanctuaries and is careful in her approach to Nymionth's. Polite deference is given to the garden shared with her, a happy hum in her throat as she briefly ignores the real flowers in favor of those within the bronze dragon's mind. That it is shared with K'zre ought to be a given; there is no boundary between them. He pauses in his work, head tipped to the side as his gaze goes distant. « It is very pretty, » compliments the green. « I have pillars, too… » But they do not greet the moons. They are on the moons. A clearing of his throat, and Kez pulls his mind back from Yasminath, cautiously introducing a few of those mental walls everyone is so adamant that he utilizes. "Do you think you will be able to handle it, if you see such injuries on a dragon?" He's curious now, gaze lingering on F'inn as his hands move methodically down the length of leather to the next joint. "I've seen them come in injured." Dragons. "But that was before…" and his gaze darts to Yasminath, lips pressed briefly into a line as he cuts off his thinking before it reaches her.

« If you stand just here, » Nymionth points out from the very center of the garden. « At night and look up, you can see the moon in all her glory. Like it is close enough to reach out and touch. » Aware that Yasminath is sharing, K'zre is welcome, but given space in favor of gazing upward. "I think so," F'inn answers honestly. "I mean it will hurt my heart knowing any of them have been injured, but I can't think of anything more worthwhile then helping them recover." Following the line of Kez' gaze to the dragons, his expression softens. "I'm glad Nymionth and I were there for you both when she was hurt," he admits. "It was… It was.. there was something.. I dunno," he admits quietly. "It was everything."

The weyrbowl is now ignored in favor of exploring this mental garden. Yasminath does as bid, slipping into that place amongst flowers and pillars and tipping her head to regard the sky. Is it the real sky? Is it Nymionth's sky? It does not really matter to the green, she's delighted to be here and delighted that he's sharing it. The importance is not /lost/ on her, but the nuances and significance of it might just be. K'zre? Is politely staying out of that mental space, for more reasons than one. The disconnect, the mental separation that he's placed between himself and Yasminath is slightly uncomfortable but not as dreadful as he had originally assumed. "You have to detach yourself from the situation at hand," offers K'zre. "Or you will not be able to work effectively. In the moment… You have to shut down that part of you that wants to comfort or coddle because… you might have to do things that you know will cause pain, in order to fix it. There's time later to… to process." To freak out and envision all the ways it might have gone different. Gone wrong. To see the faces of friends and lovers in place of strangers. A quick breath, held and then exhaled, and Kez clears his throat and drops his eyes to the leather in his hands. Thankfully, enough time has passed, and enough processing has happened, that the mention of Yasminath's own trip to the infirmary does not conjure up the emotions it had at its occurrence. That does not mean that Kez is any quicker in replying, or that he doesn't look a little pained and pinched at the thought. But after contemplation, he admits that, "I am glad you were there, and that he was there, as well. It… helped."

Every part of the ancient gardens surrounding them is Nymionth. It is warm and welcoming and peacefully still, the air, at the moment, warm and scented by the dazzling array of blooms filling the expanse. It's everything he is, in the entirety of his being, and he's more then happy to share it with Yasminath. « F'inn loves the spot by the fountain and pillars, » he shares. « We spend a lot of time talking there. He says that they do have such places in their minds. » A fact which both surprises and saddens Nymionth. « But he has this place, now. » That F'inn is listening to K'zre is clear from the tilt of his head and the serious gaze he turns on his face. Eventually, he nods, drawing in a shallow breath before releasing it slowly. "I think that might prove to be the hardest part of it all," he admits. The learning? Well, he's not a stupid man. And while the information might be new, he knows he will be able to absorb it. "I'll have Nymionth there to help me, though. He's.. he's so good at keeping things calm and assuring that everything will be alright." It's the clearing of K'zre's throat that has F'inn's attention sweeping back to his face, the flicker of concern in his gaze obvious. "I'm glad to," he admits. "No one should have to go through something like that alone." It doesn't matter that it was not a serious injury. The fear and the pain and the worry? They are all just acute and real.

« They do not, » acknowledges Yasminath, who feels just a little bit sad about it as well. That such places exist only in the minds of dragons. That K'zre did not have such a garden, or sanctuary, to retreat into before she came into his life. He has tried to explain it before, but his idea of retreat and hers, are two very different concepts. « K'zre has a favorite place, too, » she contributes, pleased and delighted at this commonality, though she knows better than to share more than this. It is sacred. Hidden. A space only for them. A pleased sound from the green, accompanied by the shine of moonlight amongst a sunlight space and the tinkling of bells, and she ventures amongst the ancient gardens with innocent curiosity. And perhaps those mental walls are good for something, because while K'zre's thoughts might briefly darken, it does not touch the green whose mind he is joined with. "It just takes practice." It probably takes coping mechanisms too, and some of those that K'zre employs might not be as appropriate as others. "He was very good with her," he recalls, able to think back on the situation with more objective eyes, now that the emotions have been separated from it. "It would have been very unpleasant to be there alone," he agrees, which is as close to a real thank you as he's likely to get, if just because the idea of offering it in this moment does not occur to him. "She doesn't really remember. She's… good at that. At not remembering the unpleasant things."

"That's not a bad thing to be able to do," F'inn muses quietly. "I'd rather that then think that she would have any fear lingering in her." Even the words inspire a frown, the expression completely odd on F'inn's lips. "Nym remembers. But only because he is driven to protect her." Which he is no longer as hesitant to admit. At first, it had been odd, and a little uncomfortable, and more then worrisome, that Nymionth was completely and utterly devoted to Yasminath right out of the gate. But, now? It's just Nym and F'inn accepts that whatever is going on is going to happen. "I'll get it," he assures on the matter of being able to seperate himself from the moment. "It's to important not to." « Special places are important. » Nymionth agrees entirely and makes no attempt to even consider prying further. Settling in amidst the warm grass and brilliant blooms, the massive bronze exhales a soothing croon as he watches her explore. There is no place in his mindscape that is not open to her and he clearly finds her curiosity charming.

"No," agrees K'zre. "It is not a bad thing." And perhaps it is a thing that he wishes he was capable of, himself. "I remember. And that is enough. She doesn't need to." Nymionth's protection has him frowning, a wash of confusion and uncertainty and a whole host of other emotions that Kez is just not ready to dive into. But he has come to accept that the bronze will be in her life for a long time to come, and there's no resenting him for it. "You will, or you won't," decides K'zre, whose voice does not seem to offer an opinion one way or the other, on how he believes F'inn will do. "It can be very challenging," he admits. "And it takes time. But there is also no shame in failure. Plenty of apprentices leave the Healer's because they cannot handle the realities of the craft, once they are faced with them. It doesn't… mean anything other than they weren't suited for that particular profession." He's trying to be encouraging. It's probably not working, and the result is that Kez is frowning once again and looking a bit uncomfortable. Yasminath is anything but. Oblivious to her weyrling's conversation, and currently oblivious to the fact that she OUGHT to know what is going on (there might be some hysterics once she realizes there's a mental wall between them >.>), she quietly explores Nymionth's mindscape with polite curiosity. She does not go far; does not attempt to wander down the pathways that lead from the garden, or venture much further from the fountain. Whether she is welcome or not, she's at least learned the value of privacy from K'zre and seeks to respect Nymionth's own. Or perhaps it is F'inn's privacy that she wishes to maintain.

Once upon a time, F'inn might have found K'zre's manner off-putting. He's come, however, to value the directness. And, admittedly, there is an odd sense of relief in being around someone who says exactly what they are thinking. There is no wondering with K'zre, no obscure meanings couched in polite words. It is refreshing. "I'm looking forward to seeing what happens. Either way, I am doing something that matters. If it turns out that I am not suited for the profession? I'll at least have tried." Stretching, he glances toward the dragons, vaguely aware that Nym is still entertaining Yasminath in Elysion. It's weird, though. He knows he should be jealous. He should be worried. Or, at least a little put out. But, he's not. That much is clear when he spills onto his back and exhales a breathy sigh. "We should sneak them out to the lake tonight," he decides. « Are you bringing Luna to the lake with us tonight? » Nymionth's query is quiet and relaxed, his face turned up to the sky in a pose that is almost whimsical in nature.

Not everyone is so appreciative of his manner. It is a fact that K'zre is aware of but feels unable to do anything about. He says what he says, people react badly, and he's left to wonder what exactly it was that caused such a thing. That F'inn does not take offense? At least allows him to carry on without confusion. "There is a lot of time between now and… when such decisions must be made." They've got a lot of weyrlinghood left. "And whatever you learn can still be applied to Nymionth. The knowledge won't be wasted. Do you have that book?" because he might just be curious about it and done with wrestling leather into obedience. And he might need a distraction from the weird, fuzzy disconnect between him and Yasminath as he leaves her to explore hidden spaces without him. The discovery of different flowers is put on hold at the mention of the lake, Yasminath's attention snapping to Nymionth with a decisive, « I can! She would like it. » Yasminath is well aware that Luna is not a sentient, living thing. But it is fun to pretend. "We should," agrees K'zre with very little thought on it, that mental wall of his evaporating in the face of strong emotion from Yasminath. "I could use the… space. Sometimes the barracks feels very confining."

"Tell me about it," F'inn laughs. "I'm in the barracks as little as possible." Rolling to his feet, he grabs the book and returns to hand it to K'zre. "It's interesting. The dragonhealers want me to read through it and they'll quiz me later. Once I have the anatomy down, they'll move on from there." Dropping back down on the blanket, he folds one arm beneath his head as he sprawls. "It's a whole lot easier to remember the parts with Nymionth right there," he admits. Warm laughter floods Nymionth's mind, the sound joyous and not the least bit mocking. « I have no doubt that Luna will enjoy it a great deal, » he admits. « I am excited to see the moons full. » He's been waiting and waiting and waiting for that. "You know you could always come with me to the dragon infirmary," F'inn suggests. "It would be a good way get Yasminath used to being there and see how she handles it. Couldn't hurt that Nymionth's there to keep her distracted, as well?"

K'zre is a very literal person. So when F'inn asks him to 'tell him about it', despite it being a turn of phrase and not an actual request, the healer might just wonder if he is meant to do exactly that. But as the other weyrling continues, Kez ascertains that it was not an actual request to divulge further details. "I noticed." Because he has. A consequence, or side-effect, of Nymionth and Yasminath's unusual attachment is that K'zre is often very aware of where Nymionth is and, by extension, F'inn. The book takes his attention when it's offered, leather straps set aside so that Kez has room for the large text. "If he is not cooperative," he murmurs, "with standing still, you may be able to persuade Ferb to act as a model. Or I can have Aloe do it." The green firelizard is much more accommodating of K'zre's wims than his blue Vera is. « Me, too! » agrees Yasminath, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect. « And over the water! » which she has not seen, but imagines will be very beautiful, if K'zre's memories are anything to go off of. "Maybe," he concedes, gaze lifted from the text so that he can watch Yasminath briefly. "When she's older…" He is determined to keep her young and innocent for as long as possible.

F'inn does his level best not to look pleased at the fact that K'zre has noticed his absence. Really, he's smart enough to understand that that has far more to do with Yasminath and Nymionth then it does with him. Instead, he folds his arm under his head, using it as a pillow as K'zre flips through the book. "Nymionth's pretty cooperative," he admits. Course, the moment that he sees Yasminath, all bets are off. "He is a firm believer in excelling at everything we do." Course, if Nymionth had his way, they would be doing everything. It's the last that inspires an easy nod of his head, his lips twitching in a smile as he follows the line of K'zre's gaze to the dragons. « When we are older, » Nymionth begins in warm tones. « And able to fly. F'inn says we can travel all over Pern to see the moons from every angle. » Clearly, the thought is very appealing to him. « There are places where there is no water, at all, just sand as far as the eye can see. I wonder if they glow in the moon's light. »

"This is fascinating." The book. The anatomy of dragons that goes deeper than simply 'wing, tail, headknob and eyeridge'. Of course K'zre would find it fascinating, and he's slowly flipping through the pages that detail bones and muscles, that map out the structure of internal organs in great and graphic detail (at least it is drawings, and not actual photographs? One can hope, at least). Now and again, there's a glance toward the dragons but, now with the book in hand, it is less of a check-in and much more of an application of budding knowledge. "I doubt Yasminath would sit still for me," considers Kez, his voice undeniably fond. "Even if she wants to. She's too… wiggly." Which, he does find adorable. Because he finds everything about Yasminath adorable. But it does make it difficult to do simple things like bathing, and oiling, with any sort of ease. "You said something similar, before," he adds, flipping to the next page. "About excellence. About not… failing." The conversation is a distant memory, clouded by K'zre's preoccupation with Yasminath, but he remembers enough of it. The idea of endless expanses of sand, and no water, has Yasminath both delighted and somewhat apprehensive. She can't conceive of such a thing, and while Kez knows it to be truth — that a desert does exist, somewhere — he has never seen it and cannot supply her with the image. « I want to see everything! I want to fly through the night, with the moons and the stars, and see everything there is to see! »

« We will do it one day, » Nymionth promises. « As soon as we are able. But right now, we should go and eat something and maybe get a bit of oil. » He's starting to get a little itchy in places. "He knows we won't succeed at everything we do," F'inn notes as he rolls up to sitting. "But he insists that we both give it everything we have. It's good for me," he adds in serious tones. "I mean.. I know I've changed /alot/ but honestly? I like the changes. I think they needed to happen." Aware that Nymionth is both hungry and itchy, he sighs as he rolls to his feet and stretches. "Nymionth will stay still for you. He thinks I should be serious and focused like you are." That? Earns a flashing smile from F'inn and a low chuckle. "Clearly he has very high expectations." Which, all things being equal? It's quite alright with F'inn. "I'm going to take him to eat if you and Yasminath want to come?"

There is a long, long look for F'inn. K'zre's hands remain on the book, finger poised over whatever piece of information he was currently attempting to commit to memory, in favor of studying the other weyrling. "You have changed," he agrees, a quiet assertion as though he has only just noticed. Or at the very least, has only just now given voice to the understanding of it. As to whether those changes are for the better, he does not say. But there's a silent appreciation aimed at the bronze weyrling, that lingers for perhaps a *bit* longer than appropriate. It is the mention of food and oil, though Yasminath is less inclined towards either for herself but is happy to accompany Nymionth, that brings him back. "He does?" But whether Kez takes that as a compliment or not, it may be difficult to tell. Still, he gathers up the bits of leather that have been littered around him, bundling it up so that he can haul it all back to the barracks. "We will come," he agrees, already packed before the acknowledgement is made. "Yasminath is not hungry, but she is ready for a nap."

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