'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.

Fort Weyr - Training Complex

The remnants of a historic collapse are apparent here, as the slope face of the bowl has a predominant downward curvature. It's likely long ago, that a cavern larger than any Fort currently has was where the training complex currently is. A probable cave in triggered a fissure on the bowl wall which lead to a great chunk of it dislodging, thus creating the rounded slope.
Yet, many centuries later, all that remains to give evidence is the pocket made into the bowl wall. It seems that the inhabitants of Fort Weyr have made best of the created space. Rock on the ground proper has long since cleared, but pebbles and loose shale are constantly underfoot. Still, the sprig of some green leafed vegetation isn't too out of the ordinary in these parts, as long as it doesn't get trampled by the comings and goings.
It's clear that this area has been designated for the training of young minds, whether human or dragon. Surrounded by rock on all side, it's like a personal weyr bowl for the youngsters to minimize distraction and danger. The candidate barracks have been built across from the Weyrling barracks, so that one group can educate the next. Finally, placed in the center of the two entrances of the opposing barracks, near the rock face, is a statue with a memorial plaque.

It's the morning after the Hatching, and the weyrlings are allowed to sleep in late. Well, as late as their dragons will let them, of course. Food is brought by drudges for both dragons and riders, and a leisurely morning is spent - as leisurely as this group gets, that is - and none are allowed outside just yet, as a thick snow falls. "To keep you warm," is the reason why, but as the morning continues and the snow abates, the weyrlings are nudged outdoors into a new world. New for two reasons. First, the field of snow has blanketed everything, and second, because the training grounds is full of…well…junk. Clouds hang low overhead and the temperature is chilly, but the clouds protect young eyes from the glare of sun against snow, so it's a blessing despite the cold. Now back to the junk. A thick rope divides a section of the grounds down the middle, and each side has its own set of junk. Old barrels, bits of rider gear, jackets, bales of hay, sacks of firestone, and even a few old wagons have been spread out across this section of the grounds. That's odd. And standing in front of it all, looking rather smug, is Kimmila. She is dressed in a heavy jacket and no knot as usual, her casted arm crossed over her front while her other rests casually on her dagger hilt. "Morning!" she calls, and Varmiroth, nearby, rumbles a happy greeting as well, extending a mental brush to the new dragons, curious and gentle, tinted with nighttime magic and serenity.

"What the —" That's Inri talking, and that's not her reaction to the snow. The snow's not a surprise, except for how everything about Fort's weather can be a surprise; the stuff, though, is. Wasn't she just out here yesterday? It didn't look anything like this at all. Did it? Instinctively, she looks to Kouzevelth as if the baby dragon has an answer, which just as obviously, she does not — she's stopped dead a few steps out of the barracks, holding still and spreading out her wings and taking in this new sensation. Waves of curiosity answer Varmiroth's brush (though she is very young, and so it is every dragon in the vicinity that gets everything she projects), accompanied by a gentle fall of rain. "Kouzevelth," Inri tries, turning around and ceasing the whole 'walking' thing. "You spread your wings like that a full-size dragon's gonna walk into 'em and get hurt. Move."

Dremkoth has slept laaaaate because he kept D'ani up into the wee hours of the morning while he pattered around the barracks checking everything out from Crosenturath's wee little blue feeties to the toilets in the commode. Yeah, he even made D'ani flush them while he inspected the pull-chain and then pressed his head to the pipe to listen to the water gurgle down to the bowl. D'ani drew the line at demonstrating, just how the thing works though! So when they're ushered outside into the bright-white, his eyes are a touch bleary but his step is quick to follow his eager lifemate out there. Because who knows what the little bronze is going to want to inspect? "Hey, hey slow down…" He spots Kimmila and snaps a hasty a salute to her as they've been told they will do in the presence of all riders. "Ma'am." It's rushed because Dremkoth keeps going and he lunges forward to keep pace with him. The brush from Varmiroth is felt and the little bronze skids to an uncertain halt, peers up, up, up and stirs twinkling stars with a breath of experimental wind, testing and yes - all can hear his, « You are… fat? Why are you fat? » Nono, wrong word the bronze seems to think but can't come up with the correct one.

Late to arrive but there in the end come Velokraeth and Th'ero, though the pale bronze is first. He settles himself near to Varmiroth, managing to somehow pull off the maneuver given his limbs and not disturb much of the snow or stumble. Wouldn't that be embarassing? The Weyrleader is dressed in his heavier riding gear, the collar pulled up close and tight to his neck. "Did you do all of this?" he asks Kimmila as he comes to a stop not far from her side. He too has his dagger at his side and unlike the bluerider, wears his knot. "Or did the Weyrlingmasters have a part?" He keeps his gaze focused on her curiously until Velokraeth rumbles his low and rolling greeting to the weyrlings as they venture out. The pale bronze's mind also brushes up against the younger minds, but his is tinged with spice and the rich, heavy taste of a full bodied red wine. Curious, welcoming. Amused. Th'ero however is simply observing with his usual reserved manner, though there is perhaps a hint of a smile there, both to D'ani and Inri, as they are among the first to venture into the snow with their lifemates.

Abigail is rather use to the snowy weather around the weyr, though for Niumdreoth this is a whole new experience. With Kouzevelth paused a bit outside the barracks Abbey is looking around her, and Niumdreoth is eyeing a splotch of snow that is at one side of the gold. Head tilting he leans forward to poke at it with a forepaw and quickly pulls his paw back and looks up to his person seeming to question it. "Its snow, it's alright." This is murmured out softly and the brown seems alright with the answer. An then there goes Dremkoth out so Nium figures he best follow, can't let the others get too far ahead. Abbey follows, sore and tired thanks to her dear brown wanting her to sleep with him, and he refused to take no for a answer until she gave in. Everything around the area is caught sight off and once she sees Kimmila and Th'ero Abbey offers a smile and salute. "Good morning." Niumdreoth catches the greeting from Varmiroth and the brown soon offers one back, an he seems a wee bit unsure of himself.

Varmiroth shifts a bit in the snow, glancing at the tiny little dragons and then down at himself. A ripple of uncertainty blows through his nighttime mindscape. « Fat? I'm not fat. It's… » and his voice trails off into uncertainty as he whispers, « am I fat? » And he swings his head around to his rider to ask her this question. "What?" Kimmila says, blinking at her lifemate, and then frowning. "You're not fat. You're bulky." « I'm bulky. » Bulky, see! New word! Glancing over, her grin quirks up a bit when Th'ero arrives, and she nods, "Did it myself." Because…she can? She's stubborn? Because surely the weyrlingmaster staff had nothing planned, right? Or maybe she checked with M'icha first. Who knows. "Well," she adds when the blue snorts, "Varmiroth helped a lot. Okay!" she says, lifting her voice and totally taking charge, even if she's not supposed to. (What does she DO around here, anyway?) "This is going to be fun. Line up on that line there, on this side of this long rope." So line up all together, facing one stretch of the junk. "This is a scavenger hunt. I have," and she digs a paper out of her pocket and waves it," a list of items that are alllll out there. Things your dragons probably have /no/ clue about. Unless you were up all night reading a dictionary or something. I'll give you, weyrling riders, this list, and then when I say go, you have to stay where you are and your dragons have to go find those items, and bring them back to you." Chaos? Awesome. "This is practice for them, walking, moving around, lifting things, and also practice with your mental link. You'll have to describe, for example, what a wagon wheel is. Or picture it in your thoughts so they know what to look for and can bring it back over the line. Questions?"

Inri is just /staring/ at Kimmila for a moment there, as Kouzevelth thankfully gains enough sense to step out of the way and quit blocking part of the exit with her wings. It's not open-mouthed abject-horror, though; she actually looks impressed. Incredibly. "That is the most brilliant thing," she says. "It's also going to be a giant mess, but I never even thought of that they wouldn't know what simple stuff was." Of course they don't, and her dragon is definitely not going to get left behind. There's a mental reflection of the concept of 'bulky' sent out amongst the group, and then she repeats, actually cocking her head slightly to the side as she does so, « Wagon wheel? » What's a wagon, what's a wheel, and what do they have to do with each other? Thunderclap.

Somehow Dremkoth has managed to weasel out around those outspread wings and D'ani then eased past barely seeing them, go figure! The young man is STILL walking about in a bit of an oblivious daze. « Bulky! » Dremkoth seems to roll the taste of the word around in his mind with Velokraeth's spiced wine and when he eddies it questioningly towards the MUCH bigger dragon, it is damp with the nighttime dew clinging to grassy thought, « You are… bulky-er! » He sounds very certain of that despite the bronze's physique. Kimmila starts speaking and so D'ani places a hand on his little bronze (hopefully that will keep him in place) while he listens, dark brows lifting in interest. He heads towards the 'line up area' slowly, thoughtfully while the bronze follows with pouncing hops - he's finally discovered the snow. "Do we have to use words?" he hazards uncertainly.

Faranth. For all the wonder in Kh'nai's eyes, there is also a deep element of — deep-seated panic? wide-eyed panic? gut-wrenching panic? Well. It's panic all the same. The /reason/ is clearly evident: Lyrienth, pushing her way through the snow with hapless determination, her tiny form laboring to keep up with much bigger dragonets. Her call is a touch of disorienting mist and tall forests, never-experienced but yet still so eerily rendered: skybrooms reaching to the sky, surrounded and enveloped in that perception-skewing fog. In the midsts of the mist, a disembodied voice like etheral chimes: « Ooh, and what is /this/! » Awkward charge past Dremkoth, of course precipitating Kh'nai cutting D'ani in line with a vaguely apologetic (or maybe that's apoplectic) look. "Lyrienth—" is his choked-off utterance.

Velokraeth chuffs in amusement from his vantage point not far from Varmiroth, settling himself into the snow with a bit of a groan. « Nothing wrong with bulky. Adds character! » he says in his honeyed tone, the sense of a grin implied in his mental voice. At Dremkoth's observation, the bronze cocks his oversized head towards the oh-so young bronze and if he /could/ grin broadly, he would. « How about… stout? » he corrects gently, mind rippling in obvious mirth. Oh this is going to be /fun/! Th'ero only glances between the two dragons, then back to the weyrlings before refocusing on Kimmila. Now he does smile, a bit more of a smirk by the end but the Weyrleader at least looks on in approval to all the junk arranged about. Perhaps he has a sense of the lesson or exercise to come? He figures it would be at least cleared by M'icha. Th'ero allows Kimmila to take charge too, perhaps curious to see what tortu—- instructions she has planned for the group. When the details are laid out, he looks both surprised and impressed, snorting. "Interesting way to go about it," he murmurs to her, before offering Abigail a polite nod for her salute. Good morning. "You'd be surprised on how much they don't know…" Th'ero points out to Inyri but pitches his voice enough for all to hear, though he leaves D'ani's question for Kimmila to answer. This is her lesson to lead, he is more of a spectator and possible help should it all dissolve to chaos. Which of course seems to herald the arrival of a awkwardly charging Lyrienth, with Kh'nai in tow. That earns a rather pointed look from the Weyrleader, but no comment is made — yet.

Abigail follows along towards where there are all suppose to line up, though her pale gaze turns back to watch Niumdreoth whom is more interested in the snow. «Why is it white? Why is it cold?» These are the questions that are questioned not only to Abbey but the other dragons that are close by. His mind is calm and peaceful, almost like the snow around them. "Its frozen water, and water doesn't have a color so snow doesn't either." Good answer, right? At the bulky comment Niumdreoth looks up, his muzzle covered in snow, which he was attempting to eat. «Who's bulky?» He was inspecting the snow, so of course he didn't catch all of discussion on whom is bulky. Abbey grins slightly and leans down to work on brushing the snow off the brown while listening to Kimmila and what is to be done today. Well this should be interesting! At the questioning from Lyrienth, Niumdreoth is quick to offer a answer. «Its snow!»

Kimmila grins, almost wickedly, at Inri. "Yup." She's brilliant. Oh, say it again. "No," she answers D'ani. "You can use pictures, or…anything. The end goal is the important thing. Figuring out how to /get/ there is the challenge." Varmiroth tilts his head at the little dragons, his mind a gentle and welcoming brush of night time and calm, stars sparkling above an empty clearing. Kimmila clears her throat, grinning over at Th'ero. "Thanks, I thought it'd be fun." Chaos. "You'll all be working together on this, so huddle around, Weyrlings, because here's the list." One list, for all of them to complete. It's a team challenge, not a rider vs. rider competitive challenge. And she bestows the list upon them, thrusting it into…Abigail's hands, randomly, and then she retreats back to Th'ero's side to watch it unfold. To see how each rider and dragon pair work together (or not), and also to see how they work (or not!) as a group. Muahahahaha?


Blue riding jacket
Empty firestone sack
Candidate knot (good luck in the snow!)
Wagon wheel (NOT attached to a wagon)
Copper pot (not steel!)
Gloves with a hole in them (not the gloves /without/ the hole)
A pretty blue rock the size of your fist, that Varmiroth found and is VERY proud of

Leaning over Abigail to try to get a good look, Inri squints at the list — and has to shove Kouzevelth's snout out of her way a few times, the weyrling dragon immediately trying to get in on the action. "You can't even read, shove off," she mutters, and hopefully all of the other human weyrlings can, or it'll really look like she was talking to the wrong person. "Well, she's all curious about the wagon wheel thing already, so maybe I should get to work on that one. And — they're serious about the candidate knot."

Dremkoth is mid-pounce when Lyrienth charges past, which sends him skid-sprawling in her wake most ungracefully as he manages to avoid landing ON her. He lifts his head, which now wears a small heap of snow and snorts after her, the chuff blowing snow out of his nostrils before he cocks his head to Velokraeth, « Stout! » He's SO pleased!. «He is! » he tells Niumdreoth with a stirring of breezes towards the bronze. Watch him call all full-grown bronzes that now! D'ani can only smirk at Kh'nai as he passes him, not minding at all that they've been cut in front of. If anything, he's grateful something slowed Dremkoth down a little. There isn't room for Dremkoth's head in the huddle as they're studying that list, so the little bronze contents himself with sidling up to D'ani's backside and eyeing it over his shoulder. "We'll try to find the knot," D'ani volunteers, taking the most challenging item.

Forceful, the emerald-touched snout of Lyrienth, pushing her way in towards the paper — until Kh'nai is there with very similar actions to Inri to fend off her physical assault, shooting her a Very Severe Look. There's something of a cringe as he reaches the end of the list in his brief reading; "She'll take the saddle." Notably, /she/, not /he/. The impulsive little green is already trying to detangle herself from Dremkoth's proximity, striking out towards the nearest snowdrift in obvious anticipation. Kh'nai opens his mouth to say something, thinks about it for a moment, shuts it. Lyrienth skids face-first into the bank and emerges from the other side coated in a fine powder of white, all but spluttering. Her lifemate's eyes are oh-so-innocent, blinking up at Abigail (and definitely avoiding eye contact with either Kimmila or Th'ero). "I think we can get this." His voice — is a little resigned, nonetheless.

Brilliant. Brilliant indeed and Th'ero is trying so hard not to grin though Velokraeth is exuding so much amusement that he makes up for his rider's lack of outwards display. The pale bronze's mind becomes headier, almost intoxicating with reds so deep and rich, a robust wine, mulled and spiced yet smooth. "Fun?" is all he quips back to Kimmila, a faint quirk of his mouth the only hint of a smile but his eyes tell all. Chaos. And fun. Best way to learn, is it not? "Candidate knot?" That much he overhears from Inri and then Th'ero is turning to give Kimmila a look that so plainly reads: seriously? Velokraeth only chuffs again, almost beaming if a dragon could beam to Dremkoth. Atta boy! You go tell the world it's stout! Then his attention is off to watch more antics, specifically Lyrienth. Th'ero however is only shaking his head a little and coming to stand closer to Kimmila's side as she returns, reaching out to lightly rest his hand against the small of her back. But his gaze is focused on the Weyrlings now, watching them as they choose their items off the list.

Abigail is surprised when she is given the list, she blinks and peers after Kimmila, about to comment but stops. A soft ah escapes her before she holds the list out enough so the others in the group are able to look over it. "How about we each pick something different and work on one thing at a time?" Kouzevelth and Lyrienth are not the only ones trying to look at the paper as Niumdreoth is sniffing at a corner and leans up to try and get a hold of it. "Hey, no, stop that." Escapes Abbey while she lifts the paper up just high enough from the browns grasp. "So it seems, and with all the snow around here the knot isn't going to be easy to find." The list is pondered once more. "We're work on the blue rock." Which means Nium and herself. Niumdreoth glances over towards Dremkoth at the stout comment now, and he finally catches sight of Velokraeth. «Stout!» Yay for new words! "Sure we can. We can help one another out." Abbey offers with a helpful tone to Kh'nai.

Kimmila suddenly shoves her hand into her pocket and then breathes a sigh of relief. "Yeah. And I almost forgot to put it out there, but I did." Good thing, too, because wouldn't that suck, looking for a white knot that isn't even there? Leaning a bit into Th'ero's touch (ZOMG PDA) she grins, watching them work things out. To the side, Varmiroth rumbles, amused, and tosses out another word. « Stocky. Burly. » Oooooh.

It's a really good thing that Inri focused hard enough on the part of the list that was careful to exclude the wagon from the wagon wheel, and that Kouzevelth is distractable enough to not be pressing on what the wagon part is — she hasn't connected to that they're two different items, so much as that a wagon wheel is a thing that someone talked about once and now she's supposed to find it. That sounds like a decent enough game. After a few moments of utter failure at actually describing one out loud — "Well, it's round, like a circle — no, /round/, I know you know what round means — yes, like an eyeball, good —" she switches to the mental image, which leads to Kouzevelth's first childhood moment of using her resources: the gold trots up to Varmiroth and looks up at him hopefully, sharing the image Inri gave her. « Where is this. »
Inri just puts her face in her hands.

Dremkoth is shuffled off to one side by D'ani, who has already spent the better part of the night answering endless questions, so now he's just going to SHOW Dremkoth what he's going to find. He removes his weyrling knot and holds it up so the tiny bronze can inspect it. "But it's all white. Like the snow-" He catches what Kouzevelth is asking via his own lifemate's brain and hastily adds, "Out there somewhere." Lest he, too, ask the 'stout one' where to find it. Thankfully D’ani's taken it off and so not picturing it ON someone. The bronze trots off a few paces then, nose down, begins snort-ploughing a furrow in the roped area. He SAID like the snow, therefore it has to be in it right? « Burlyburlyburlyburly… » Dremkoth is committing that second word to memory. Yay multi-tasking!

Succinct, the wording — even if Lyrienth's mindvoice is anything but, a whisper of mist curving out to touch Varmiroth's mind in the eerie shade of ageless trees, a forest's gloom hanging grey over her touch — « Big. » Who needs adjectives? One word is /entirely/ serviceable. Oblivious to Velokraeth's attention, she proceeds to bull her way through several snowdrifts, ending with a muzzle-first bump into a wagon. Shaking her head as if to reorient jostled synapses, she proceeds with a little more caution, stalking around the wagon as if it is /personally/ offensive, a dark ribbon of dark grey-green against the snow. Kh'nai rocks on his heels, craning to follow that ribbon against the snow, oblivious to his teammates at the moment. What is she /doing/? (Not sharing the fact that she found the wagon with Kouzevelth, for one.) Distracted, Lyrienth reiterates her previous statement to Dremkoth with all the startlingly placid confidence of a newborn: « Big. » There's a derisive undertone, as if he really /needs/ another word for it. Words. Pfah!

All things were going so well, too, when Harmony emerged with Crosenturath from the barracks. "Ew." She tugs on a lock of golden hair, a pink cap keeping the top of her head nice and toasty, and makes a disgusted face. "/Snow/. Ugh! It's in my — wait, noooooo." Crosenturath has managed to hop-lunge forward, little feets scrab-scrab-scrambling in the snow, digging furiously while long, thin snout is /pressed/ to the cold stuff. Icy flakes decorate an already icy-blue hide as a series of excited chirps, chitters, chatters, and excited heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh's come from his quivering form. Thick tail /quives/ while jelly haunches dance. "Stop," she tries to grab a neck ridge and tug. "/Doing/ that." Is she chagrined that she's the only one not fully focused on the list? Maybe. But Cros? IS NOT DETERRED one iota. The aura of vast, frozen tundras leak out from his youthful mind, all in varying arrays of frozen-ness. There is even a squirrel-rat-dragon forever immortalized in shiny, blue ice with the comical bulge-eyed face pressed up against the invisible pane of ice. « EEE-Hheeee-eeee-heeee-eeee-aaaa-eee-hehehe-eee-hhheee - eeee-ehhhe - eeeee. » Chitter, chatter! Harmony looks to the others, at a loss. "Um." What was that again?

Or would that be the creme de la creme of the joke? Oh, how cruel they would be to set the Weyrlings up on a hunt with no end. Then just sit back and watch the show… Th'ero snorts again, "Hopefully you remember where. Else it will never be found." And there's a pointed look given to D'ani then. Good luck? As Kimmila leans into his touch, he may actually just slip his whole arm around loosely and still as subtly as a gesture like that can be. OMG more PDA! "They seem keen enough." The Weyrleader murmurs after a moment or so of silence between them, dark eyes still observing with clear curiosity. « Burly! » Velokraeth all but crows mentally, the deep red wine's of his thoughts rippling out with amusement, much like a deep, hearty chuckle. « Nice one, Varmiroth. Since we're practicing our words… how about gangly? Lanky? Sleek. » Distraction? Oh you bet it is. Then Kouzevelth is approaching Varmiroth and Th'ero's attention drifts to peer around Kimmila. He can't hear the exchange, but enough can be assumed — or Inri's reaction tells all. The Weyrleader can only smirk a little, perhaps a little sympathetic for /all/ of them. He was in their place once! Both Velokraeth and Th'ero's heads seem to lift at the same moment as Crosenturath makes his debut with Harmony more or less in tow. The pale bronze reacts only with a paused sense of being stunned and baffled both before his wine-heavy thoughts erupt into heavy gales of laughter, sending the reds bubbling in an intoxicating manner. The Weyrleader however has a bit of a smirk set on his features again, but one that may edge towards the sympathetic. Maybe… as it's always hard to tell with the bronzerider.

Abigail holds onto the list and now works on getting Niumdreoth's attention, which takes a few moments. So starts the explanation on what the blue rock looks like, which she tries without words at first. "It's blue, and hard, like yer bed." She holds up her hand, making a fist and point to it. "About this big." Niumdreoth is trying to pay attention, truly but then a new word is offered. «Sleek!!» He pauses, blinking, his eyes a swirl. «What is blue?» Abbey ahs and then points towards Varmiroth. "Varmiroth and Crosenturath are blue." With the explanation given Nium seems to understand a bit more and turns to trot after his clutch mates. Though his attention is grabbed by a bale of hay for who knows what reason and he proceeds to snuffle and push it about, and even bite down onto it. The taste is enough to send the brown spitting and pawing at his mouth, where pieces of hay now stick out, one even goes up his nose and he drops into a play bow type of position and snorts trying to get it out. "Not the hay!" Abbey's warning is a bit too late, and even though she is attempting to keep her attention on Niumdreoth, Harmony and Crosenturah's entrance cannot be missed.

Varmiroth tilts his head and peers down at Kouzevelth, and then he rumbles an amused sound. « Out there somewhere, » he says, nodding his head towards the stuff. Kimmila actually laughs, pushing hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Clever. But no, you have to go find it." And she leans against Th'ero's side, grateful for his warmth as a little breeze picks up, blowing some snow about in whirls and little snow-devels. Watching the group get to work, the bluerider has to blink and pause at Crosenturath's entrance with Harmony, and Varmiroth's head tilts even more to the side at the blue's…words. Huh? "Is there something wrong with him?" Kimmila hisses up to Th'ero, a genuine frown furrowing her brows.

Kouzevelth mentally echos this; not the words themselves, but the general concept of having to go wander around through a bunch of stuff and look for something. Of course, doing so, she walks carefully through the snow and flails her tail about, knocking things around to try to get rid of the snow and manages to find a few of the other objects that had been previously mentioned. The ones no one was looking for, of course — most notably a pot. Maybe it's the steel pot instead of the copper pot, but whatever it is, she's carrying it around in her mouth and meandering Lyrienth-wards, curious about what the green has found even if she hasn't realized that it's actually the wagon.

Absolutely Dremkoth needs adjectives! Lots and lots of lovely little words! He freezes when he hears Crosenturath's glee, his head pops up from the snow-sniffing and although he can't relate to the phrasing, he can certainly appreciate the thrill of adventure the little blue is feeling. This beats the barracks by lightyears! For him though, whether he finds that knot isn't the main thing. It's in the SEARCH that he's finding such joy. He tosses a glove back over his shoulder. « Look what I found! It is SLEEK. » Off again he stumbles over… something round. Pfffff! Whateeeeever! « That was lanky! » Who cares if he's inventing new definitions for those new words? Not he! All D'ani can do is… watch, try to re-emphasize that white string and die a little at Harmony's plight. "Thank Faranth Kazulen threw you out there first," is his mildly understated sentiment.

The sudden cessation of forward movement should be clear enough to anyone who has seen the— not necessarily fidgety, but certainly propulsion-oriented Lyrienth. Her head swings towards her clutchmate and she just stares for a moment, undoubtedly alarmed due to her lifemate's reaction to the scrabbling laughter and the echo of Velokraeth's wine-sotted rumbles. She dodges her head downwards to peer under Kouzevelth's neck before becoming entirely distracted by the shininess of the pot. « Oh! That's pretty! » She crowds her golden sister to get a closer look, craning her head UP to peer DOWN into the pot, having no qualms in invading the other's personal space. Meanwhile, Kh'nai is trying not to choke on his own reaction to the Harmony/Cro appearance, making little strangled sounds in the back of his throat and going faintly red in the face from the effort of throttling it back.

Sniff. Sniff-sniff. Sniff-sniff-sniff-sniff. Crosenturath moves two inches forward and sticks his front baby dragon teeth in the snow and /pushes/ forward. Ignoring his lifemate /entirely/. Harmony throws up her hands and /wails/, "Scrat, /stop/ — we — have — AUGH." The blue is not to be /deterred/ at /all/. He's on a mission and his quivering little body is excitedly /sniffing/ something out. The ice around the squirrel-rat-dragon-thing melts in shiny little drips, his internal monologue rising in crescendo, « Erg-aaaaugggh - eeee-hehhehhheh - rrrrrg—-rrrrrgnn - eeerrrggghhh-erk! » And then: « Ahhhhhhh-heeeeeeee! » What comes up is the end of the rope. The now chewed end of the rope, narrow snout and baby dragon teeth happily nom-nomming at what he shouldn't be nomming on. Harmony, meanwhile, mistakes everyone's titters, giggles, and finally D'ani's words as criticism and lets loose a girlish sniffle. LOOK. A tear. "That's not funny — I don't know — He isn't — he's got a /one/ track /mind/." To say that the newly minted bluerider is /beyond her depth/ is an understatement. That single tear is enough to cause even more chaos as Crosenturath is suddenly /right/ there. Squishing Harmony against his blue chest, letting out all sorts of strange, high-pitched chittering sounds. « HARMONYHARMONYHARMONYHARMONY, I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE THE BESTEST AND MOST AWESOMENESS. » So he *can* talk. Ain't that a relief. To the others, Abigail and Inri get her first look. "Help," she begs of them, in a (not really) stranglehold. Kh'nai might just be glared at. He was supposed to be bait.

Th'ero only glances back to Kimmila and gives her a blank look for a moment before his brows knit together. "I don't think so," he murmurs back in a hushed voice. "He seems perfectly fine." To which Velokraeth adds his opinion by snorting sharply. Of course he is! Though the Weyrleader may soon be eating his own words… though he certainly is speechless when Harmony is all but crushed by her own lifemate. Now he really does flinch. Does he intervene though? No, of course not. But there must be some relief that the blue /can/ speak. Velokraeth will keep up with those helpful (and not so helpful) adjectives too. Perhaps some nouns or verbs thrown in eventually or randomly, given the bronze's mood. Which seems stuck on permanent amusement as he observes his offspring mill about on their scavenging. And that is how he'll remain, until they've all tired themselves out or completed the task. Th'ero remains with Kimmila of course, unless he's needed to step in. Otherwise the Weyrleader is quiet, also observing but he'll speak up if spoken to. And maybe, just maybe by the end of it all he'll actually /smile/ for once. An actual smile.

Abigail winces slightly as she watches Harmony and her rather interesting blue. She isn't sure what she can possible do to help but she will try! Niumdreoth finally gets the bit of straw out from his nose, which is promptly rubbed down into the snowy ground. "Niumdreoth may be able to help." Though the brown has caught sight of something blue! Happy thoughts run through his mind, a faint breeze through some trees which makes Abbey swear she can see flowing lights of pink, blue and green. Niumdreoth has his nose pushed down into a pile of riding clothing, and is bounding back towards his lifemate dragging the blue riding jacket back with him. «Rock!!» Abbey looks back to Niumdreoth and eyes the blue riding jacket. Well it is blue, but not a rock. "It's blue, yes but sadly not a rock dearest." The brown pauses and chomps down more upon the sleeve of the riding jacket and sits there pouting. "Good job though, ye found the right color!" This seems to help perk Niumdreoth up a bit. "Now, why not try to get Crosenurath to help find the rock?" With this idea planted Nium does turn to his blue brother and with the jacket dropped he bounces over. «Help me find the rock??» The image of said rock is passed over to Crosenurath, its blue and about the size of a fist.

« Crosenturath is blue. » Kouzevelth is just pointing that out, you know, in case anyone hadn't caught it; she overheard some kind of comment about blue and about the dragon who was blue, so there must've been a connection, right? "Maybe if we distract him," Inri tries, and looks hopefully over at the brown's efforts. Her own dragon is mostly not paying attention, because she is holding this incredible shiny thing and Lyrienth needs her to hold it so she can keep looking inside it. She shares the image of the wagon wheel with the green, then swivels her head toward the wagon — huh. There's one attached to it, but that's not right, is it? "No!" Inri calls over, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands again, or fall on Kh'nai laughing. "No, do /not/ try to move the entire wagon. That's not the right wheel —" But the pot is nice! Kouzevelth tilts her head a little, changing the angle.

Oh maaaan. D'ani made Harmony cry. That's all he can think of right now. Dremkoth is on his own as his lifemate mentally dis-engages. Dremkoth hones in on the chewed… rope? He's searching for…well, string IS rope right? RIGHT? And so the little bronze HAS to sidle up to Crosenturath and sniff at what he's found. « Is it… gangly? » He really means white, but… there ya go. D'ani meanwhile opens his arms and offers a sincere, "I'm sorry Harmony. I just… couldn't deal (with teh crazy he means but is wise enough not to say it like that). You're doing a great job though?" She… is, isn't she? He'd have happily throttled Crosenturath by now. If Harmony allows, he'll give her a comforting hug with murmured reassurances - sincerely meant assurances - that she is indeed coping well. And she is! She's not gibbering heeheheheheaaaheeerging, after all! Yet.

Because Lyrienth is helpful like this, she turns with no little excitement to the wagon. Enthusiastic: « We can pry it off! » This must be Inri's worst nightmare. Kh'nai's expression is priceless as his lifemate turns away from the cluster of Cro and Harm to attempt to manipulate the nearest wagon-wheel by expedience of placing her maw over the top of the wheel and pulling. "Oh—" the weyrling half-wobbles, a hand out to Inri to prevent him from slumping over onto the other. "This isn't going to end well." His eyes flicker from his lifemate (who he is not even attempting to stop, by the way, because he knows better than to stand in between a woman and what she wants) and the sight of D'ani comforting Harmony and Cro — crowding. His eyes may be a little superior at the last. His lifemate may have a property-damage-prone streak a mile wide, but… ha. Who's the bait now?! (Bait for craziness, maybe.)

Niumdreoth comes not a moment too soon, distracting Crosenturath so much that those skinny little limbs let go of his lifemate (who's been partially soothed. Some internal monologue of how awesome she is has done the trick). So when D'ani opens his arms for a hug, Harmony is still malleable enough to allow it. Sniffling. MILKING it for all it's worth. "It's just so hard, all he thinks about is " Pause. " well, me. Or something else, and it's like the /only/ thing he focuses on." Chaos has calmed enough that Scrat-rat-rat is now once more sniff-sniffing the ground, butt high in the air, the sunlight glinting off the banding in his plump, slightly curling tail. His front teeth — baby fangs — drag in the snow. « Errrrg-eee-eeerrrr-heeee-heehehehhehhehe-rockrockrock—rock-heeeee-arrrrkllleee » Everyone else's other wise distraction? Totally ignored for the ROCK that must be HIS. Sniff-sniff. Snifffffffffffffffff. He pauses. Bulging eyes going wider, looking near to the point of popping out of their sockets, his skinny snout twitching. Frozen in position, whirling eyes roll in their sockets to see if he's been noticed. Total prey animal behavior here. Harmony, to her clutch mates: "Is it… like this… for you?" This girl? She be floundering. Special /glare/ to Kh'nai for his choked back laughter.

"… no," Inri agrees, sounding weak and not actually moving to interfere with the green and the gold as they wreak havoc on the wagon. She doesn't want to get killed by the falling wagon, which is undoubtedly going to fall at some point — because now both dragons are trying to separate the wheel from the wagon, and they are both pulling in the same direction on the same part. "It's /really/ not." Yank, goes Kouzevelth, tugging and trying to separate screw from wagon. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FIND ONE THAT ISN'T ON THE WAGON," Inri tries yelling over there, just in case that actually helps, but any ability she has to be stubborn and clamp down on the baby gold? It's really not working. The battle of wills is in Kouzevelth's favor.

«Yes, Crosenturath is blue, but not the rock!» Niumdreoth offers back to Kouzevelth, while he works on getting his blue brother to try and help him still! Finally Crosenturath lets go of poor Harmony and a soft breath escapes Abigail. "Yes, yer doing a great job Harmony." This is offered with a smile to the girl while D'ani also comforts her. Niumdreoth trots off to go searching for the rock, a few steps away from Crosenturath. The brown poking and shoving his head down to knock a few things around, the rock must be hidden well! The sudden knocking over of a crate gets Abbey's attention back towards her dear dragon and she sighs softly. "Don't have to tear the place up!" At least he isn't trying to pull a wagon wheel off. While Nium is knocking the crate around he manages to kick up a few things, a bit of wood and then what looks like a blueish rock is bouncing over to smack into Crosenturath's hind leg. "Well I imagen we're all having certain things that we are working on…" Though not really like Harmony, someone give the girl a super big gold star.

D'ani patpatpats Harmony's back in a 'therethere' fashion. He means it, even if he can't relate to all of what Harmony;s going through. But waitwait!!! "He's thinking about you all the time?" He holds Harmony at arm's length and peers at her, no little confusion. "This is a problem… how?" So yeah, he has her pegged at self-centered but he's not judging her by any means. "Uhh not exactly," he answers about it being 'like this for you'. "Dremkoth sort of takes breaks to examine things, but…" Not helping, is he? His dragon, meanwhile, after not getting an answer about the rope continues his snow-burrowing search until SNIFF-SNORT!!! He finds the candidate knot. It's… up his left nostril. WAY up. The bronze flounders towards D'ani. « HELP ME!!! There is something LANKY up my nose!!! » With that it's off-to-see-the-wizard with the pair of them to extricate it. Wizard (don't tell Dremkoth) is one of the AWLMs or maybe a dragonhealer.

"Oh, Faranth." That's Kh'nai's half-reverent breath as the combined efforts of green and gold - even babies as they are! - resound with a sudden cracking sound. He can't help but lunge from his spot in the "line" as Lyrienth goes sprawling backwards with — er — /part/ of the wagon wheel proudly held in her mouth. It's worse when she springs up, all-but-prancing around Kouzevelth while crowing her superiority to the universe. She has the wagon wheel! She has — a spoke! Nevermind the wagon wheel, she has a SPOKE! She is the master of the uni— oh shit. Darkling green is dragged off by incensed lifemate, and as such, Kh'nai and Lyrienth exit, stage left.

Crosenturath has found his rock. It's his rock. His, his, his, his. He cuddles his rock, hugs his rock, and curls around his rock with happy glee. His lips peel back, revealing more of those baby fangs. The day's lesson is lost for the blue weyrlings as Crosenturath is already onto something else. Something new that he focuses on, the rock as quickly abandoned as it was caught. "I—" Harmony's answer to D'ani is cut off before she can even formulate anything resembling cohesion, and with something like a resigned sigh, she chases after her blue, through the /snow/. Scowling at the start, by the time she catches up with him, she's positively glowing. He must be telling her how much she rocks. For reals.