Fort Weyr - Living Caverns

This cavern, having been created by bubbles in the volcanic flow of this extinct volcano, has a breathtaking ceiling — a vast dome that arches high above the heads of the weyrfolk that scurry around beneath it. A hollow echo can be heard from loud enough noises, and the chatterings of various firelizards are consequently multiplied into a chaotic babble. All in all, the living cavern is a loud place.
Tables are scattered around the room, apparently in no particular order. Over to one side near the kitchens, two medium sized serving tables are constantly spread with snacks, klah, and other goodies. The tables look worn, yet perfectly fitted to the atmosphere of the caverns. In the 'corners' of the cavern, smaller two and four place tables are set up for more private talks or just a less chaotic atmosphere in which to eat.


It's mid-afternoon and the Weyr is full of a strange sort of energy on this hot and humid summer day. Early yet for such temperatures and many are not surprised that the weather is beginning to shift and with it the gradual build of tension in the air. Within the hour, the skies are darkening rapidly and most weyrfolk are scrambling to finish the last of their duties if they're to be outside. Lightning flashes, the thunder rolls loud and ominously and for a moment it seems to be all light and sound in this storm — and then the rains come. Great heavy sheets of it, falling so heavy at times it reduces visibility. The winds pick up and the storm rages on. Surprisingly, not many have ventured into the living caverns though from the sound drifting in it seems Shenanigan's is bustling with more activity for once. A few drudges are by the entrance to the caverns, doing their best to keep the rains from flooding the floor when the wind shifts and sends it inside. Th'ero has settled himself in the farthest table possible, almost a small alcove, that not only backs onto a wall but is turned to face all entrances and exits of the caverns. The Weyrleader's soaked jacket is hanging up on a nearby peg and his hair is also soaked and drying. His mood seems as black as the storm outside and one could see why — the paperwork he had looks, well… damaged. The leather binding did little to protect some of the pages and now he's carefully spreading out the worst of them to salvage what he can. Which must be important, if he's going through such care.

Kimmila enters from the lower caverns, and the bluerider is nice an dry and warm. Which is a blessing, given her somewhat fragile health these days. Plus, she's carrying a baby-shaped bundle against her shoulder. Pausing in the entrance, she winces at the sight of the rain coming into the cavern, and then her sweeping gaze spots Th'ero. Ignoring the Weyrleader's black mood, the bluerider walks over towards him and hovers by an empty chair, staring at the paperwork as she shifts Kyzen to her other shoulder. "That sucks."

Perhaps he had been on his way back to the weyr and was caught midway through, but the living caverns are not usually Th'ero's choice and less so when he has work with him. So lost is he in his thoughts that when Kimmila speaks, he starts a little and his hand accidentally tears one of the sodden papers. Exhaling heavily, he lifts his hand instead to sweep back his soaked hair and try not to explode into a fit of cursing as he leans back into his seat and glances up at her. His surprise is not that it's her who is standing there, but rather the bundle she is carrying and instantly he's getting to his feet. "Only the result of my stupidity," he mutters glumly, casting a quick glance at the paperwork though his focus is now rapidly shifting to her. "Sit, Wingmate. Do you want me to take him for a bit?" It'll be awkward, but he feels the need to offer. He frowns a little then, "Is everything alright?"

Kimmila grimaces when he tears the paper, shaking her head. Nudging out a chair with the toe of her boot (unless he pulls it out for her), she sits down slowly and gingerly. "Please," she says, shifting the newborn baby (well, a week old by now) towards his father. "I'll see what I can do for this…" she adds, nodding to the paperwork. "It's fine. He's just eaten. Oh, here," she adds, putting a towel over Th'ero's shoulder. "Put him there, and pat his back. He might spit up." Joy?

Of course he'll pull out the chair for her, turning it too so she can have the easiest access to it. Th'ero will also reach for the newborn before she's managed to settle, so that her hands are free at least. The towel though is unexpected and he turns his head a little to where she places it on his shoulder. Maybe he thinks it's for him? He's partially soaked after all. But then she explains and he tries so hard not to grimace in disgust and fails — somewhat. He does as she instructs though, not quite as fumbling with handling Kyzen as he was before. Still not comfortable and at ease, but neither is he as rigid and tense. "Wonderful." Th'ero drawls with obvious sarcasm as he settles back into his seat, one hand lightly patting the infant's back. "And good luck with the paperwork. What isn't damaged is just as bad as what is still whole…" he grumbles, his mood swiftly turning as sour as the weather outside. Sure enough, she'll notice it's supply lists and budget records. There is an unsettling amount of red versus black and some hastily scrawled reports with unsettling words such as "shortage" and "miscalculated" and "more supplies needed".

Kimmila makes sure both Th'ero and Kyzen are settled before she turns her attention to the reports, gently shaking out her arms. Tired from carrying the baby? "Huh," she says with a growing frown and sense of unease. "What happened here?" Carefully laying the papers out, she sends a drudge for some dry towels and rice (of all things) and tries to sort through the mess. "What are we low on?"

Th'ero's attentions drift from Kyzen to Kimmila, though linger the longest on her rather than the infant. Harsh, but true. He only checks to be sure the infant is comfortable and then his focus changes. No fawning. "Jajenelja happened," he mutters with obvious distaste. "Stupid girl figured she'd try to be nice and somehow wheedled herself some of the work that is kept for more… experienced hands." Elara and Dtirae, in other words. Seems now that the goldrider has gone from her rebellious state, she still poses a problem with her "kindness". The Weyrleader snorts, "Even Inri could have done a better job and she's not even a tapped and fully recognized weyrwoman yet." Ouch. He doesn't question Kimmila's orders, though he adds in a few rough ones of his own. Klah, mulled spice wine and some hot food. Is he cold? Probably. "From what I read before trying to make for the offices we are low on a few key staples. How /that/ happened I do not know. Some are medicinal but seasonal. Others are food stuffs. Spices, preservatives." Annoying things. "We're low on materials as well." This is not his field either, as far as rank goes. But he knows "bad" when he sees it and is likely trying to work something out prior to dumping it all on the Weyrwomen.

Kimmila scowls as she listens, glancing up only when the towels and rice are brought (along with Th'ero's klah, wine, and food). Laying out a towel, she sets a paper on it and then sprinkles rice on top, before another towel, another paper, rice…and so on. And she reads as she goes, frown deepening. She does snort though, nodding. "I'm sure she could," she murmurs. "So how can we fix it? Do we have extra money set aside that we can just go…buy things?" It's then that Kyzen burps. And it's cute, kind of. A tiny little baby burp. But then he's spitting up over Th'ero's shoulder, and the towel.

Th'ero watches with a sort of keen interest when Kimmila begins to work on the papers with her technique. He doesn't question it, too curious to see it unfold and not wishing to disrupt it. That and his mind is preoccupied with other things. Namely, his growing frustration and temper and the onset of a slight headache. Which, of course, he will medicate with wine. He takes a single sip of it before returning the glass to the table and pushing the food more towards the bluerider. Eat. The klah seems to be hers as well, as he doesn't even so much as glance at it. "Shards if I know," Th'ero grumbles irritably. "I don't dabble in this usually. It's the duties of the goldrider's to look after the supplies and budgets. I worry more on the riders. But the Headwoman caught me this morning and was rather flustered when she handed me the report for Dtirae." Wait. Waiiiit a minute… did he just imply he looked into something he technically shouldn't have? "I'd imagine there are funds set aside for such blundering. Not much, I'd think. We may have to wheedle out a few trades or…" Grimace. "…loans, perhaps. There is—" He never finishes, as Kyzen gives that sort-of cute little burp and Th'ero blinks, pausing to glance sidelong and down at the infant. Only to then be spit up on. Sigh. At least the towel was there?

Kimmila glances up briefly to take a sip of the klah, nodding her thanks, and to get some food into her as well. When the papers are stacked she leans gently back in the chair with a soft exhale, tiring easily these days. Glancing at him, she arches a brow. "So why don't you just give it to Dtirae?" Simple question, right? When Kyzen spits up the bluerider leans over to wipe his mouth with the rag, briefly running her fingers over his dark curls. Then she's settling back once more.

"Because Dtirae is away at the Holds again," Th'ero points out and sure enough, Zuvaleyuth will not be found on her ledge or the Weyrwoman anywhere in the Weyr. That only brings a heavier frown to Th'ero's features, though there is a momentary side glance to Kimmila when she begins to look tired once more. Concern, no doubt. But he does not press her — for now. "And I was curious." So he did peek at things that were not his to see. "I suppose I will have to deliver it to Elara then and Neyuni…" The knowledge he has now though, it's gnawing at him. He knows it's not for him to dabble in, but such matters /could/ ricochet to his riders, right? Shifting forwards in his seat, he leans in so that Kimmila can reach Kyzen easily, taking care of the soiled towel as she tends to the infant. He will then settle back, cradling their son in his arm with almost no second thought to it.

Kimmila nods her head slightly. "Yes, my mother will know what to do with it…still. It's…it makes me uncomfortable to know we're short some things. Because yes, that is going to affect folks…" Exhaling, she fortifies herself with some more sips of klah. Turning to look at him, she smiles a little bit. "You look natural."

Th'ero grimaces and likewise seems to share the same unsettled feelings as Kimmila. Doesn't help that the storm is causing the atmosphere to be tense and charged — literally. Though the rains seem to have abated, there is still the sound of thunder rolling overhead and outside it is growing rapidly more humid and sticky. "So we are at an awkward stage. Unless we call for Elara now to discuss matters, if she is not occupied." Which may be the case, if they both have Kyzen at the moment. "I do not want to go begging to other Weyrs though… or Holds for that matter." he mutters, eyes shifting to take in the papers that are still drying under Kimmila's layers of rice and towels. Skeptical, perhaps that they'll be salvaged? Or maybe suddenly wishing they will be ruined and this matter can just … go away. A childish thought, but the Weyrleader's mood is making him irrational too. Kimmila's smile and comment have him sluggishly pulling from his brooding though and he blinks, only to suddenly become awkward. "I don't feel natural." he murmurs.

Kimmila is ignoring the drying papers, letting the towels and rice soak up the moisture. "She's busy," she agrees with a small nod. She has to give her mother a break sometimes, from the care of Kyzen. "Not begging. Buying. Trading. It's good…actually. Builds relationships and all that." Sipping her klah, the tired bluerider smiles. "Well you look it. Do you…love him?" she asks, brows furrowing slightly.

Th'ero exhales softly. He should have known the answer to Elara's current unavailability, but it doesn't keep him from being mildly disappointed. "It can still seem like begging," he replies stubbornly, though he does relent a little and his smirk is a little less grim. "True. It does form better relationships… so long as we do not ask too much or cause insult." He shakes his head then, freeing one hand to carefully reach for his glass of wine for another sip. "So where to start, then?" he murmurs as he sets the glass down again carefully, giving her a curious look. One that abruptly goes blank and startled at her question and furrowed brows. "He is my son," he replies without hesitation, "Our son." That is a yes? Frowning, he looks puzzled and concerned. "Have I… made you doubt that?" he asks quietly, hesitantly. So awkward.

Kimmila shrugs, "Let Elara handle it." Seems Kimmila - the Weyrthird? - is too tired to deal with such matters right now. But then she looks guilty. "Make a list of what we need. And then see what places would logically have excess…" Then looking at Kyzen, she studies the back of the boy's head before she looks up at Th'ero. "It's hard to tell how you feel about him," she says honestly, "since his arrival was so…traumatic."

Th'ero is surprised again when she shrugs off the matter at hand, though it doesn't last long. Soon, his focus is honing in on her with much more interest. Studying. Concerned. "That would be the easiest way to go about it. I could do that… at the very least. Leave if for them," The Weyrwomen, that is. "To sort it out or change it. Then perhaps I won't feel as useless on this matter…" Or he'll make it up to them for snooping into their business. Leaning back into his seat, he continues to hold Kyzen in his arms and while he has held Kimmila's gaze readily, her honest remark has him dropping his gaze to the side and away guiltily and ashamed. No, he's not been very good in that respect, has he? "His arrival has nothing to do with my feelings towards him. Of course I care for the boy. If I didn't, I would not be holding him. I would not care for his well being and I certainly would not be offering my help in tending to him while we wait on the fostering…" he says, his tone low and quiet but his bluntness no less harsh. Which, of course he instantly regrets and his mood just sours further.

Kimmila nods, "That would help I'm sure. So they know where to begin and don't have to sort through all of those." She nods at the drying papers. And they are drying, the towels and rice drawing out the moisture. Looking at him over the rim of her mug, her smile is understanding. "True," she says with a little nod. But she still watches him. Looking, perhaps, for some sign of affection? Something other than just contact, as Kyzen falls asleep on his shoulder.

"Then perhaps I… we," Th'ero pauses for a moment, uncertain but carrying on all the same. "Can review that later." he finishes, glancing again to the drying papers. He seems reassured now on the matter, though his features are still heavy and clouded. They twist too, as Kimmila watches him and he unknowing of her close scrutiny. She will see that he looks unsettled and a sort of anxious worried look shows in his eyes and the way he sets his mouth. And there is affection there, not so much in his features but just from the way he tilts his head, quickly checking on Kyzen and then the way his hand rests gently on the infant's back, supportive and comforting even if it seems so casual and subtle. He's not a man to fawn or coo or fuss. He's awkward, out of his element but he is trying. "I told you I would not be a good father…" Th'ero murmurs, attempting some humor though it falls horribly flat as it comes off more as a voiced self-doubt than a jab at his behavior.

Kimmila frowns at his attempt at humor, shaking her head. "You're a great father. You brought him into this world, after all. Tended to him, to me. You've already…done so much for him. And right now they're boring," she admits, staring at the back of their son's head.

Th'ero does not look entirely convinced, self doubt still clear in his eyes even as she reassures him but neither does he challenge her. Not here. He snorts softly and his lips curve into the faintest of smiles. "There is not much to be interested in when they only sleep, eat and cry." And make messes, though he's not about to go that far. Catching her staring at Kyzen, he gives her a questioning look. Rather than ask though, he assumes… which could be either bold of him and correct or bold and entirely wrong. Carefully, Th'ero will rise to his feet, their son still cradled carefully against him as he moves with a cautious step. Not that he has far to go, he is only settling into a chair next to her, rather than across. He shifts Kyzen then, ever so carefully so as not to rouse the infant and arranges him comfortably in his arms and against his body rather than just his shoulder.

Kimmila nods, "Exactly. They don't start getting interesting until they're around two…" And she wasn't thinking anything, other than being happy that the boy has his father's hair. She watches as he moves, smiling gently when he resettles himself. "You are a great father," she says quietly, leaning over to brush her fingers against Kyzen's cheek.

"Don't they become unreasonable at two?" Th'ero murmurs with a faint smirk, attempting some humor again and perhaps succeeding this time. Leaning back in his seat, he quietly observes as Kimmila leans over to brush her fingers against Kyzen's cheek, but for her quiet comment he remains stubborn. "A great father can show love and affection for his child. I cannot." he says quietly, his voice tensed. "And it's not that I do not feel those emotions." he amends. Because he does. He's just horrible at expressing it.

Kimmila nods, "Unreasonable, yes. But interesting. And don't, wingmate," she says softly. "You will learn to show them. Either outwardly, or in other ways. He will know you love - /we/ love him. Even though we won't be…as open about it. He will know. And he'll have the love of his foster family as well. He will want for nothing. Just you sitting here holding him is an expression of love."

"Interesting how?" Th'ero asks before he falls quiet again, guilt once more lingering in his eyes and concern as well. He really is stressing over it, it seems. "I hope you are right," he says quietly again, almost as low as a whisper. He's wanting to believe it, but his current state mood and temper wise has left him sullen and broody. Could be the stormy weather outside too, though the first storm seems to have blown itself out. The air is still tense and charge though, which means another one may be fast approaching on the heels of the first. So it makes for a rather hot and humid late afternoon, with most folks choosing to stick close to shelter even if the torrential rains are gone — for now. Th'ero is seated at the furthest table, almost within a small alcove that backs onto a wall but faces the entrances and exits of the cavern. Another is at his side, and the Weyrleader is holding what looks to be a small bundle in his arms. On the table, there's a strange stack of what looks to be papers pressed between towels.

Kimmila sits beside her weyrmate, nursing a cool mug of klah and nibbling on some food items on the table. "They can talk, and learn, and…do more than sleep and poop." Then, in a rare gesture of public affection, she reaches out to rest her hand on his arm. "It'll be fine, wingmate," she murmurs quietly. The bluerider looks ill. That unhealthy look, but her extra flesh from the pregnancy hangs on her, sunken cheeks and tired eyes. She's in warm, comfortable clothes, without regard to rank or how she /should/ look. Baggy and cozy is the theme of the day.

M'lo's cheery whistle preceeds him into the living cavern by several seconds. He's heard about the baby, of course, but as soon as his eyes light on the little trio, his whistle falters and he stops in his tracks. After only a moment of pause he fixes a smile on his face that's mostly genuine, and approaches. "Hello," he says softly. He takes in how they both look, tired and tense. "Is that him?" he asks, nodding to the little bundle in Th'ero's arms.

Th'ero does not have much time to reflect on Kimmila's words or her reassurances, having just turned his head to regard her with an uncertain glance when the whistling catches his attention. His demeanor changes instantly as the Weyrleader shifts in his chair to sit a little straighter. More alert and much like his usual self… save for the tiredness and stress lingering there. Enough that anyone with a keen look will see it, despite his efforts to hide it. He's dressed in comfortable clothing as well, though his jacket is hung up to dry and his tunic and pants still show evidence of drying. At least his hair is damp now? "Afternoon, M'lo." he murmurs by way of greeting, offering only a slight smile to the Weyrsecond though that is his usual habit. At the nod to the bundle in his arms, Th'ero glances down for a moment as if to confirm what he is holding. "Yes, it is." Awkward. So awkward. There is a side glance to Kimmila then, as if he's expecting her to step in just then.

Kimmila looks up at the whistling as well, and when she sees M'lo she does smile. "Hi, M'lo. Thank you for the flowers," she's quick to say, following their looks to the bundle. "Yes, this is Kyzenviro," she says, reaching over to fuss briefly with the boy's head of thick, curly black hair. Th'ero's son, for sure. There is no doubt, not that there would be any. "How are you?" she adds, looking back to M'lo.

"You're welcome," M'lo says to Kimmila. "I hope they brought a smile to your face." He peers down at the little infant and then grins. "Wow, look at all that hair," he comments. "Eldann was mostly bald when he was born, though both the girls had some." He observes the baby a few seconds longer, and observes Th'ero holding him, notes the awkwardness. He opens his mouth for half a second, as if he might say something, and then shuts it again. "So how are you feeling, Kimmila? Is there anything I can do for you?"
Flowers? That has Th'ero's interest for a moment as he glances between Kimmila and M'lo, though his attention drifts as the bluerider leans in to fuss over the infant's hair. "Kyzen for short," he amends softly, though for the most part the Weyrleader seems to have grown silent. He does motion for the Weyrsecond to take a seat, at least, with a slight tilt and gesture of his head to the vacant chairs.

Kimmila nods, "They did," she assures the Weyrsecond, sipping her klah and easing back into her chair once more. "Were they? I can't remember with Ziani, but yeah, Kyzen has his father's hair for sure." And it's clear Kimmila adores that about their son, reaching out to play with it again. Maybe playing with Kyzen's since she can't play with Th'ero's? At least not in public. "I'm feeling really worn out, but I'm recovering, if slowly. But I'm fine right now, thank you. Got everything I need. How are you?" she asks, studying him and noticing his hesitation.

With a grateful little nod to Th'ero, M'lo has a seat. "Kyzen," he repeats. "Hello, little Kyzen," he says in a voice that he pitches higher and softens, a sort of croon that comes instinctively to most people when they talk to babies. He flashes Kimmila a quick smile that only grows when she fusses with the baby's hair. "Well, that's to be expected," he comments. "I'm sure you'll be back to your old self in no time." He bobs his head a couple times. "I'm fine. Irelanth has been pestering me lately to take him to the Southern Continent. He wants to go swimming in warmer waters and explore a bit." He rubs his chin. "I'll have to find the time."

Th'ero tries not to blush or look too embarrassed when his hair is brought into the discussion, though he seems to have no issue with Kimmila playing with Kyzen's curls. He will simply quietly observe though, his gaze shifting from bluerider to Weyrsecond. There is a bit of a concerned glimmer to his eyes when he focuses back on his weyrmate when she mentions her recovering state. Shifting a little in his chair, he tries not to grimace too much when M'lo croons to the infant. Don't be awkward… don't be awkward. The Weyrleader does lift his head a bit though to give the brownrider a curious look. "You only need to ask," he says in a low tone. "I'm certain we can attend to matters here while you are away. The Southern Continent has some great waters and much land to explore." And many dangers, but most riders would know if these.

Kimmila chuckles, her smile a bit wry. "You sure folks /want/ me back to my old self?" she asks teasingly. "Oh yeah?" It seems to puzzle her slightly, as she studies M'lo for a moment. "How's your family doing? You taking everyone with you?"

"It has been a while since I've had a proper vacation," M'lo says slowly. He's looking rather tempted. "But I don't know. I mean… there's a lot to be done." He rubs his chin again, and then he chuckles with Kimmila. "They're good," he says. "Eldann is turning into a rather brilliant writer," he tells them. "He's been writing a book about a puppy exploring a cave. The Harpers tell me that given half the chance they can turn him into a real author. I have to discuss with Ely whether we should apprentice him, or not. And the girls are good. Daniela has a crush on some boy. She's not quite 11 turns, though, so I'm pretty sure it's harmless. Mila's as brave as other. The other day she killed a tunnel snake."

Th'ero snorts softly at Kimmila's teasing and murmurs a soft, "I wouldn't mind." in a tone that is both equally amused and serious. The Weyrleader gives M'lo a curious glance then and a knowing smirk, "There is always a lot to be done. You cannot wait on a quiet spell or else you will never go. So if the time is good for you and your family, you need only give us warning and we will adjust." Seems only fair, right? Given that Th'ero has taken time here and there. Who doesn't need a break? "If he does apprentice to Harper Hall, he will be close by at least?" he says, though a little hesitantly. These sort of discussions are not easy for Th'ero.

Kimmila grins at Th'ero, a brightness briefly returning to her eyes before it's taken away by her tiredness. "You need to take one then, M'lo," Kimm says firmly. "Yes, Harper Hall isn't that far. Is that what he wants to do, though? Or is he just having fun?" Her eyes turn back to Kyzen, watching the baby boy sleep on his father's shoulder, and her expression softens. It's just too cute for words, really, the curly haired boy on Th'ero's broad shoulder. Awkward or not, it's adorable.

"Well…" M'lo says thoughtfully. "You're right, Th'ero. I'll talk to Ely about it. Maybe we will go. In a couple of weeks or so. I'd have to find someone to fill in for me. A few someones. Delegate. Hm. And Ely would, too." He seems to be happy pondering the logistics of taking a vacation, actually. He nods when they talk about Harper Hall. "The Harpers have been regalling him with stories about the Hall. He does seem interested. But he's so young. I suppose there would be plenty of other children his own age, there…" he grins a little. "And it's not like we couldn't go visit him whenever we wanted." He takes in the look Kimmila gives to her newborn and her weyrmate. "So… is the foster family due to arrive soon?" he asks. "We've already got a room ready for them."

It probably is quite the cute and adorable little picture though no one better tell Th'ero that. It's taken him this long to relax enough to speak that such a comment is liable to send him into an awkward quiet spell again. "I'm sure it would not be too difficult. We do have the Weyrlings… unless you are looking for experienced riders." he offers, all but leaping at the chance to talk of things he knows and understands well enough not to fumble. There is also a subtle tilt of his head, meant for the Weyrsecond to see, towards Kimmila. There's another choice. "P'rius is Wingsecond of Simurgh, isn't he? I'm sure he can lead the Wing in Ely's absence." Why else have a second? "There is no harm in Apprenticing young… or so I am told. Probably best to leave it to him to decide for now though?" Logical, right? Th'ero casts a quick and darting glance then to Kimmila for M'lo's inquiry and the Weyrleader sort of half shrugs. He can't really move with Kyzen resting there.

Kimmila nods, "Sure. The weyr will survive without you," she says with a smile. "Delegate, or just…leave. Things will get done. The weyr has run with far less staff, it'll be fine." As for the kid going to Harper Hall…she just shrugs. "Maybe take a trip there with him? See if he likes it?" It's like visiting colleges! "A single?" she asks with a small frown. "I thought it was going to be a suite, in the crafter's area…? And they should be here in the next few days. A sevenday at most. They are bringing furniture with them, so it's slow going."

"Nice to know how important I am around here," M'lo jokes with a bit of a laugh. "I'll have my assistant do most of the paperwork, but perhaps there's a Weyrling who might be interested in learning a bit." He shrugs. "I guess after vacation we can take him to Harper Hall and let him get a feel for it. See if that's really what he wants." He grins a little at the baby. "I said room. I meant suite," M'lo says to Kimmila. Whatever details had been worked out ahead of time, he'd have seen to them, certainly. "It's really quite nice, everything's clean. You can visit it if you want." Then he holds out his hands. "May I hold him?" he asks, fairly eager to cuddle the baby, but not pushy. If Th'ero wants to keep at it he certainly won't complain.

"It can't hurt. The Weyrlings will be ready soon for shadowing in the Wings. Might as well allow some to have a taste of what it's like to be on the administrative side of things as well. Supervised, of course." Th'ero suggest and with a slightly narrowed look towards that odd stack of papers. "I'm sure all is in order, Kimmila," he says in a low and almost reassuring tone to the bluerider and shortly after M'lo corrects his previous statement. That has the bronzerider smiling faintly. See? "I trust that it's been all tended to." Th'ero murmurs and then as the Weyrsecond holds out his hands, he seems to hesitate for a hair's breadth of a second. Carefully, he will gather Kyzen up and gently pass him to the brownrider. "Of course." he says, though as he leans back to settle in his chair, he looks… awkward again.

Kimmila shrugs, "Has nothing to do with importance, but things still get done." Relaxing a bit as M'lo elaborates, she nods. "Excellent," she murmurs. "I'm sure it's all fine." She watches as Th'ero hands Kyzen over to M'lo - not that she distrusts either of them, but she wants to make sure the handover goes smoothly.

M'lo nods. "If any of them are interested," he says. Then he beams when the infant is passed over. Clearly, M'lo has a lot of experience in holding a newborn. He's gentle and deft, and tucks the little boy into the crook of his arm. "Oh, look at you," he croons. "Hello, little man. Kyzen, I'm M'lo. I'm a friend of your mom and dad. You look just like them. Aren't you cute?" He starts to rock the baby, almost unconsciously slipping into the soothing motion. "What a fine little lad," he tells the new parents. "You two must be so… proud…" he trails off at the end, suddenly not sure if they are proud, or just inconvenienced by his early arrival. "Er…" He actually blushes a little bit, and covers up his embarrassment by gently tucking the blanket around the baby, not that it really needs it.

Th'ero will only watch M'lo in complete silence for the most part, his expression difficult to read though that should be nothing new with the Weyrleader. At one point, he will lean forwards to reach for his glass of wine, long since forgotten but now apparently much needed as he drains half the cup in a few long sips. "We are proud," he interjects neatly, before things can become any more awkward. Not that he's helping things really, sitting as stiff and tensely as he is in his chair.

Kimmila watches M'lo with a little smile, and she is quick to agree with Th'ero. "Very proud, and happy," she adds, sipping her klah and signaling for a drudge to bring her another. More klah! She has MISSED it. "I really wanted to give Th'ero a son. And I am thrilled he has his father's hair…" Kyzen shifts a bit, but does not awaken. Already the boy is used to being passed from person to person, finding sleep no matter who is holding him.

Relief swims across M'lo's face. "Great," he says. "That's good." Awkward pause. "And how are the dragons taking it?" he asks. "Irelanth is always so /interested/ when Ely is pregnant, and he was very intent on getting to know the children. He's a terrific babysitter, too." He grins. "Once they're old enough, of course."

Th'ero catches that relief in M'lo's features and that brings forwards another frown, "We were never displeased," he says softly, his tone slightly confused as if he's trying to grasp at something that may not be entirely there. Awkward, indeed. As he lifts his glass again, he makes a low sound in his throat, not unlike a slightly amused huff at Kimmila's remark. "I am just thrilled he is healthy," he remarks, only to add with a low chuckle. "And a son." Firstborn. Who could not be proud of that? "Velokraeth did not seem to take all that much interest, though he was politely inquiring about Kimmila's well being. Same with Kyzen. He will ask at times and if something strikes his curiosity he will press me for more. Otherwise he is much his usual self."

Kimmila also notices that relief, and her head tilts slightly. "What? You were worried we would…" What? "Hate the child?" As for Varmiroth, the bluerider shrugs. "He's already moved on to other things. Other projects. Which is good, honestly. If he were fussing over the baby then no one would get any rest."

"No, that's not it," M'lo says. "It's just… when we talked about it before, you didn't seem too keen on the idea of taking care of him yourselves. And now that the foster family is still days away, here you are, doing exactly what you had so carefully arranged not to do. I just hope that you're coping well. If not, you both know that I'm here for you. Anything you need, just let me know." He grins at Th'ero. "Oh, sons are great," he agrees. "But so are daughters."

Th'ero grimaces, his frown growing heavier as he bristles a little defensively — though really, it's not M'lo's fault. They perhaps didn't quite make it clear as to what their intentions were in the previous conversations. "Not for the long term. Our plans were for his long term care. His arrival was… early." And obviously not part of the plan. They figured they still had time! Such is fate, it seems. "We are coping just fine." he says, perhaps a little stiffly though he tries to soften it with an almost apologetic sounding. "Thank you. For the offer." Sore spot much? But how was the Weyrsecond to know of the discussion moments ago before his arrival that had the Weyrleader doubting himself. "I'm sure. I would have been pleased with either. But it seems we have been blessed with a son." he says, turning his head slightly to give Kimmila a slightly lingering look.

Kimmila also frowns a little bit at M'lo, and shakes her head. "I had always planned to nurse him for the first few sevendays. Plus my mother is helping. We are doing what's best for him." And she believes that, completely and without hesitation. And she is so focused on M'lo that she misses Th'ero's lingering look. "It's not like we were going to abandon him to the nannies. He showed up early, so we're caring for him."

"I meant no offense," M'lo says, grimacing with worry over his faux-pass. He rocks the baby a bit more. "Of course you are," he agrees with Kimmila. "You've always made it clear that you're thinking of his well-being. I never doubted that for a moment." He sighs. "I've stuck my foot in my mouth. I'm sorry," he says.

Th'ero clears his throat slightly, finishing the last of his wine and then setting the glass aside at the edge of the table. "It's not entirely your fault, M'lo." he points out in a low tone. "We weren't exactly too clear or open about our plans. Misunderstandings. That's all there is to it." Which means that there is no offense given really. The Weyrleader certainly doesn't seem as defensive as before.

Kimmila arches a brow and starts to say something, but changes her mind at the last moment and just nods. "Okay." A silence settles, and then Kyzen shifts, squirming, his face screwing up and getting all wrinkly. Someone's pooping. And it's not a pleasant sensation for the boy, as he begins to kick and then start to cry and fuss.

"Well… I'm glad that's cleared up, then," M'lo says. He gives Th'ero a little smile, which he switches to Kimmila, too. As the baby starts squirming, M'lo automatically shifts him so that his head is resting on the brownrider's shoulder. He supports him carefully, letting gravity help the process and gently patting Kyzen's back. "There you go, little man," he croons. "You're alright." He glances around for a diaper bag, and not seeing one, looks to the new parents. "He's going to need a diaper change," he tells them. "Until the foster family takes over his care, you may want to bring a bag with diapers and wipes around with you, for cases like this. So you don't have to go… after he goes." He grins a bit. "Less running around, you know."

Th'ero only nods his head, before grimacing again. Such is life? The Weyrleader makes no comment though, simply pushing back his chair and rising. There's a bit of a puzzled look for the suggestion of a bag, but he leaves that for Kimmila. Instead, his focus seems to be on taking Kyzen from M'lo. "Here then, I'll take him." he says without hesitation. Lingering only until he has the infant supported well and comfortable, he then turns to give the bluerider another long look. "I'll be back. Mind the papers." And then he's gone, though he has to take the long way around. The weather is still not entirely pleasant outside and he does not want to risk getting caught in the bowls again.

Kimmila has also started to push to her feet, but Th'ero beats her to it. Sinking back down again, her look is mixed as the bronzerider takes their son. And then she looks at M'lo, frowning. "I know," she says, sounding a bit insulted. "I've raised a child before, you know. I just forgot his bag."

M'lo relinquishes the baby as soon as his father wants him to. He nods at Th'ero's back, and then looks at Kimmila. There doesn't seem to be anything he can say. So he gives her an apologetic smile.

Cue some awkward silent time? It will seem much longer than necessary before Th'ero returns… almost too long. One may begin to wonder where the Weyrleader has gone or if all is well. Just before too much concern may build or anxiousness settles in, he will appear again and looking a little more tired and worn and… empty handed. He does not seem concerned himself though, as he returns to his seat and settles into it. Turning his head, he glances to Kimmila first and then M'lo and speaks low but clear enough for both to hear. "Kyzen is fine. Cleaned, changed. But I decided to spare us all the headache of a screaming infant… Well. You two, anyhow." he muses with a bit of a smirk. No, he's got a headache alright. "He is sleeping for now and I figured he's had enough public exposure for the day. He's being watched now."

Kimmila is content to sit in silence with the Weyrsecond, their relationship seeming to always take these awkward turns, despite their best efforts to avoid them. She sips her fresh cup of klah and nibbles on food, looking up when Th'ero returns. And yes, she does notice the lack of baby. "By whom?" she asks as Th'ero sits down once again, and she signals for a refill of his wine. "He screamed?"

"I wouldn't have minded," M'lo assures Th'ero. "But I'm sure the rest of the folks in here probably would have. Thanks." He'd spent some of that awkward silence time getting food for himself and filling his mouth with it in a steady rhythm. Nom.

Th'ero didn't seem to pause for food along the way or seems too interested in it now, though he does look gratefully to Kimmila for signalling for more wine. "No need for the thanks," he drawls softly to M'lo, though he sounds almost amused. If he wasn't grimacing faintly from the headache. Turning back to Kimmila, he rests a hand lightly on her leg, hidden beneath the table. "A'rtomus." he tells her simply, "He was not particularly thrilled with me cleaning him…" he adds, still sounding puzzled over the whole ordeal. "He wasn't screaming. That was a poor choice of jest. He did cry and fuss though. Which is why I figured some quiet time would do him well." But now he seems uncertain.

Kimmila ahhs, nodding. "Grandpa time," she says with a little smile. "That was probably a good call, wingmate. Sounds like he needs a nap. Thank you." And she goes quiet again, glancing at the two men and then sipping her klah.

"Eldann was like that, too," M'lo says sympathetically to Th'ero. "I think maybe the change of cold air and all the jostling around?" It's a guess, that's clear from his tone. He fills his mouth with more food.

Th'ero looks relieved, if not a bit pleased, by Kimmila's thanks. Reassured at the very least. He didn't screw things up! "It was rather kind of A'rtomus to step in," he murmurs and then glances up to M'lo, smiling softly. "It could have been. Or the storms. I caught a glimpse of the sky and it seemed dark…" He pauses, distracted for a moment and his head tilting ever so slightly as if listening in. Classic rider to dragon reaction. "Velokraeth tells me the watchrider says another storm is brewing. Looks to be heading for us but it may go around." Oh the joys of summer. As his wine finally arrives, he accepts it and graciously downs a good portion of it before he takes a more respectable sip. Ahh.

Kimmila shrugs, "I can imagine I wouldn't want someone wiping me when I was flat on my back," she says dryly. She shivers a little at the talk of another storm brewing, shaking her head. "Not that we can't use it, but…"

"Rain is good," M'lo agrees. "Our crops could use it." There are a trio of small pops as his firelizards appear directly over his head, gold, green, and blue swirling about each other like jewels, chittering exitedly. The land on the table and start cavoring, all cute-like. "Aw," M'lo says, charmed by their antics.

"But?" Th'ero presses Kimmila gently, not about to let her escape so easily. "Rain is good for the crops. Not too much of it though… and not all from storms." Storms bring high winds and hail and other nasty surprises. As the firelizards begin cavorting over the table, the Weyrleader hastily reaches for those still-drying papers and placing a rather protective hand over them. His two have remained up in the rafters, the ugliest brown who looks more tunnelsnake than firelizard and a tired looking green. Both have their attention drawn to the hearths though it seems and their chitterings take on a curious and keenly interested tone. Which can be heard easily enough, even with the hour being late in the afternoon the caverns are not overly busy. Most of the day has been hot and humid, unaided by the thunderstorms rolling through. The first has passed, but another is building and approaching. Th'ero is seated with Kimmila and M'lo at a far table by the wall, turned to face most of the entrances and exits in the cavern.

Kimmila shrugs, "But it's damp and cold," she says with a little smile. She also leans back when the firelizards arrive, saving her klah and the food. Her firelizards are nowhere to be seen, as usual. Wild things that they are.

M'lo's firelizards jump up from the table, led by gold Lucy, and flit through the air toward the hearth, where they find perches that will give them a good view. The Weyrsecond follows their progress with his eyes and blinks a couple of times. "You think they'll start humming?" he asks his table companions.

Yurolt saunters in from the bowl. He's less than his usual clean self, as having been helping train recruits…Yes in the rain and such, it's good for them to get used to the elements. The startled look on his face gives tale that he was not expecting so many people to be in the caverns. Quickly wiping some much off his uniform he salutes the Weyrleader and company. "Ma'am, sirs."

Eirwyn is coming up from the outside, well soaked by the storm outside. Before stepping too far in she stops near the entance and squeezes the moisture from her hair. "It sure is wild out there today." She declares to noone in particular as she gives her hair a shake and starts to squeeze out her top as she heads towards a Klah pot. There is a glance over to the gathered riders as she hears a familiar voice, "Hey Kimmila, congrats! Heard you rattled the baby right out of you on the road!" Out of the mouth of teens.

"Pity we do not get the warm rain like in some of the southern regions," Th'ero murmurs, "Perhaps then it wouldn't be so miserable. Though I do hope this next storm does something about the humidity. We'll be as awful as Western at this rate." Clearly, the Weyrleader does not miss the humid climates at all. Blinking a little, he turns in his seat and leans forwards slightly to peer a little closer at the hearths. Sure enough, a few baskets are resting there, filled with sands and now twitching eggs. Must be a common enough sight, for the bronzerider not to even notice. "Huh. Must've had some folk leave 'em to harden. Suppose they will start." he murmurs, leaning back in his chair once more and reaching for his wine. His other hand still remains against Kimmila's leg, though hidden from view. Sure enough, a few firelizards do begin humming and as if on cue, fresh meat is brought from the kitchens. Good timing that there is dinner being prepared! "Yurolt," Th'ero greets the young guard as the man approaches, though a quick glance and he amends his previous words, "Or should I say Private First Class? Congratulations." He lifts his wine glass in a salute then, half way through the sip just as Eirwyn's comment reaches his ears and he promptly chokes. Literally. At least he turns his head politely away from Kimmila and Yurolt as he coughs and struggles to catch his breath.

Kimmila eyes Yurolt and winces a bit, shaking her head. "Kimmila," she corrects. "But yes, congratulations." At Eirwyn's arrival the bluerider smiles, and then winces. Again. "Uh, well. It was a bit more complicated than that." And traumatic. Very traumatic and painful. "But yes, and thank you."

The look on Yurolt's face now shows that he hadn't yet heard of Th'ero and Kimmila's good news. He must be tired not to have noticed Kimmila's less than pregnant state. "I'm sorry, Kimmila. Congratulations to you both, and thank you." He looks towards the hearth and the warming sands, he's never been to a hatching before, dragon or firelizard. Turning to Eirwyn he nods and introduces himself, "PFC Yurolt." He offers a hand in greeting, though his is rather grimy.

"No doubt it was." Eirwyn says witha more sombre nod, "But you look ok, you are ok now right?" She asks before she looks to the guard offering his hand. She has no hesitation offering her own dripping digits to the man, "Eirwyn, drenched rider to the drenched Xucieth." She greets before looking quickly to Th'ero, "We grounded when the wind came up, don't worry on that." She says quickly before she gets in trouble for flying in this storm. Well she had to get back right?

Feathery Fronds Egg gives a little shake and then goes still again. Just a little taunting for those close enough to catch it's brief little stirring.

Kimmila actually looks rather haggard and not very healthy. "I'm mending, thanks." But then she gets an odd look on her face and pushes slowly to her feet. Whispering something to Th'ero, she slips back into the lower caverns.

"Thank you," Th'ero manages to say between gasps to Yurolt, still trying to clear his throat against the sting of the wine he choked on. That does little to help his headache or the fact that the firelizards really are humming now and the eggs in their baskets by the hearts are rocking. Most of them, anyhow. Giving Eirwyn a long and lingering look, the Weyrleader nods his head. Seems she's off the hook this time, though his attention seems to focus on Kimmila as the bluerider makes a quick exit after whispering to him. Judging from his heavy frown, he's concerned, but he does not follow her… physically at least. His eyes do until she's out of sight. "Either of you been through this?" he says to both Yurolt and Eirwyn, a hand coming up to rub his forehead briefly before gesturing towards the hearths. "Seems someone's left their eggs and they're hatching." Obvious statement is obvious?

Hone Those Deadly Weapons Egg gives a little trembling shake as well, enough to shake off some of the sand coating it. Then it goes still, only to repeat the process again seconds later. On, off, on, off.

Yurolt looks after Kimmila. To Th'ero he asks, "Is she alright, sir?" He looks at Th'ero then to Eirwyn and finally to the eggs. His expression is somewhat frightened but he quickly brings it under control. "I uh…I haven't sir. What needs doing?"

Eirwyn bites her lip as she sees Kimmila fleeing and glances up to the Weyrleader, "She alright?" She asks, "I am sorry…" She starts before pausing At Th'ero's question. There is a glance to the eggs and then a look around the room before looking up at the Weyrleader. "Well…from what I have seen at the hold, those chosen to receive the firelizards are gathered and given meat to feed the babies when they hatch. Know who these belong to?"

Th'ero looks a little perplexed as he's asked the same question by both Yurolt and Eirwyn, his smirk returning and a slight wince to follow as his headache gives another jab to his temple. Which means, of course, that he must sip more of his wine. "She is mending, but the birth was hard on her." he says to the guard and green weyrling. Hard on them both. "She is healing though. It will just take some time." As the firelizard's raise the pitch and urgency in their humming, the Weyrleader nods to Eirwyn, "I don't think I've ever heard of folk being chosen prior unless the eggs are a gift. As these have been left unmarked and in the open, I only assume they're for the public to claim. So… have at it, if you two are wanting a go. The drudges have set a few bowls of meat on the lower tables." He points to where they rest. "Once they hatch, you just grab some and try to entice them over. Keep your thoughts and emotions welcoming. Loving if you can."

Feathery Fronds Egg shakes again but more visibly this time though it's rhythm is erratic at best. It will move and then pause, then abruptly start up again. Shake. Hey. Shake. Hey you! It's as though it's purposely taunting and toying with anyone happening to glance at it.

Loving thoughts, welcoming, should be easy enough. Yurolt takes Th'ero instructions, though he gives a slight frown as he sees the Weyrleader wince. He doesn't know what it means and he doesn't ask. Instead he nods and steps towards the bowl of meat. Grabbing a gloppy handful he moves a little closer to the eggs and sits. "They'll come to us, sir?"

"Just how ma did it I guess. They had a bronze and gold between them and yeah…they were either gifted or people would be chosen amoung the residents. I wasn't considered old enough." Eirwyn says as she looks to the eggs with a curious look in her gaze. Old habits mixed with old desires. "You sure?" She finally asks, but even as she asks she is heading over to grab a bowl of meat. There is another brief hesitation before she moves back to the table with the eggies. She glances up to the Weyrleader, "Mom mended well enough even when things went bad, I am sure Kimmila will be fine." Really? Trying to comfort the Weyrleader?

Hone Those Deadly Weapons Egg stirs again and the best way to describe it is that it, well… wiggles. It's not really shaking, though it's moving. That's a good sign, right?

So one thinks it's easy enough! Who knows what'll hatch from those eggs. It's likely for the best that Yurolt does not ask, as Th'ero may simply wave off the concerns and give no straight answer. "If they like what they see and feel from you, they'll come. If not, well… they'll find another or they'll go wild." he says with a slight shrug. To Eirwyn, he gives her response a thoughtful frown as he tries to mull over her words through the din of humming and his headache. "Ahh, they were likely gifts then if it was gold and bronze. Though it's difficult to say which eggs hold which color." he remarks and then chuckles dryly. "I'm sure. And if they were meant for others, well… the owner should know better." Too bad, so sad? "Indeed. Kimmila is strong. It is just time and rest that she needs," Th'ero murmurs, too tired himself to really notice that Eirwyn is comforting him.

Feathery Fronds Egg begins a rather chaotic dance — or spasm, really — of movement. Shake, twist, twitch, wiggle, shake and shake some more. Energetic at first and rapidly taking on an impatient spin once the occupant grows weary. The shell finally begins to crack, starting with minute little fractures that gradually give way as more and more of the shell crumbles until it just splits and out tumbles the egg-wet hatchling.
Feathery Fronds Egg hatches, revealing a egg-wet hatchling.

Whoops-a Daisy-Green Hatchling
Pale, watery emerald green cloaks this small hatchling's form. Limbs are long and gangly, neck and tail a bit too long, wings a bit too broad. She is awkward, poor thing, but she makes up for it in charm. Over her face and around her wide, expressive eyes, her color darkens, deepening even more to a rich jade along the edges of her headknobs and down along the outsides of her neckridges. Outlined, almost, as the color continues down to pool between her shoulders before it fades completely, leaving the rest of her a rather monochromatic pale green.

Not that Yurolt is trying to be rude, but he is purposely avoiding the subject of Kimmila and her rough birth. Though he's sympathetic, his own mother did just recently die in child birth. He's grateful for the distraction of the imminent hatching. He grins widely as the first egg cracks open.

Hone Those Deadly Weapons Egg seems to pick up it's cue from the first egg to hatch though it goes about it much more subtle. It's shell simply splits and cracks without much fanfare and out pops the hatchling, who winds up rolling onto it's back into the sands with a squeal of protest.
Hone Those Deadly Weapons Egg hatches, revealing a egg-wet hatchling.

Risks? What Risks? Brown Hatchling
Where most browns are stocky and heavier in builds, this brown firelizard seems to have borrowed from his smaller brethren and adopted their tastes for sleekness, though his size makes any agility moot. His broad and tapered head with it's slightly blunted muzzle tip is dipped in a rich dark brown that gradually fades to a lighter hue that in some lights carries almost a golden hue though in most lights it's more of a dull reddish chestnut. This coloration seems to center mostly along his features or along the inside of his neck, to his well muscled chest and lean sides and down over his powerful haunches, leaving his limbs and ridges to darken again in a gradual fade. His wings, long and gracefully tapered, boast that rich dark hue on the topside, though the sails underneath hold more of the lighter shades and his long, slender tail remains solidly untouched, a pure rich dark brown right to the very tip. He holds himself with an almost exotic flare, though there is a keen and playful intelligence to him even if his tastes for daring risks makes many think otherwise.

"Mostly crafters and the like. Leaders of the patrols and such. People she wanted to communicate with or needed communication from." Eirwyn explains of how her mother did things, anyone who would have met her, would not likely be surprised. Not just gifts, but useful tools. She quickly shuts up as she notices the green hatchling come out of an egg and followed quickly by a brown. "Oh, they are even smaller than I remember.." She responds and looks awestruck for a moment before her eyes unfocus and she bursts out a bark of laughter. "Xucieth worried I am trying to replace her." Of course she would have an overdramatic response to a firelizard hatching.

Th'ero will only take Yurolt's silence as an indication that the young Guard is focusing on trying to lure one of the firelizards over. The Weyrleader is making zero effort. With two already bonded to him, he has his hands full enough. "Hmm, all logical choices." Th'ero agrees with Eirwyn's explanation and likewise can see the intentions behind such moves. Tools — exactly what is likely coming to the Weyrleader's mind. "Best quiet that thought in her," he warns, giving the green weyrling a stern look despite the girl's obvious amusement over her lifemate's reaction.

Whoops-a Daisy-Green Hatchling shakes herself free of the last of her egg, wings unfurling to dry as her tiny little head swivels to and fro to take in her current locale. Eyes whirl with the red of hunger and as her nostrils flare and she catches the inviting scent of meat, she gives a creel of desire. She /wants/ that! She takes a step, then another and then… promptly falls out of the basket, screeching as she tumbles head over tail and then somehow lands on her feet, stunned for a moment. Ow?

Yurolt vaguely hears what Eirwyn and Th'ero are talking about. Though he's not had a firelizard he can't see how they're tools, more like pets. Perhaps that's a bit naive, but his family's hold never had a lizard either, so the lad has no prior expierence. He watches the little hatchlings with obvious amusement and even gasps when the green falls. Loving, welcoming thoughts. He makes no move toward the little beasts but does open his hand with a glob of meat upon it. Come and get it.

Risks? What Risks? Brown Hatchling is the opposite of his little sister (if she is even that) and once he gets his feet under him, the little brown shakes as much of the sand lose from his hide before neatly bounding from the basket that held him. Skittering on the stone floor for a moment, he pauses only long enough to get a half-sense of where he may be before he's off again, awkward and gangly and already trying to half-fly on wings not quite ready for that sort of motion. He's /hungry/. And something smells gooood!

"I have, I gave her an image of a full grown firelizard and reminded her I would never be able to ride one…despite the obvious…I could never be rid of the crazy girl." There is affection in her voice as Eirwyn speaks of her crazy green. As the little green falls out of the basket, Eirwyn gasps and turns her focus back on the flitterbabies. "Oh my…aren't they cute.." She says and tosses a bit of meat towards the green at first, then down toward the brown. They both sound so hungry!

M'lo has been rather quiet during the entire hatching. He's absolutely not interested in gaining any more of the flying stomachs. He's content to sit back and watch the newborns crack their shells and bond to other people. "They are kind of cute," he admists. In the rafters his firelizards are all excited, crooning and humming and vying for good viewing positions.

"Good. I have no doubts, but it's best that she is soothed." Th'ero explains to Eirwyn, when the weyrling reassures him that Xucieth will not be crashing the hatching due to jealousy. The Weyrleader doesn't seem to be watching much of the chaos by the hearths, focusing instead on his wine, his headache and the bits of conversation drifting in. "I suppose in their own way they are," he admits slowly, not entirely wanting to say that he agrees. Though if any of them caught the full sight of his brown firelizard they may retract their opinions rather hastily.

The mention of how adorable the little critters are is something Yurolt does hear. "I agree, rather cute." He sees Eirwyn toss some meat and wonders if he should as well, though he'd be afraid of hitting one of the babies. Against his better judgement he tosses a piece towards both hatchlings. Oh my, is that piece going to hit one?

Whoops-a Daisy-Green Hatchling regains her senses just in time to see the brown firelizard bound and skitter with effortless ease away from the hearths. Well, that just won't do! So try the green does again and manages to get a little further from the hearths before she's awkwardly bumping into something and losing her balance again. The piece of meat is lost to her attention as she creels in frustration instead and rather than pause to gather herself, she charges on ahead. Blundering as she goes, but she moves at least! And at last she sees it, a glob of meat and so tantalizingly close. First she'll bump into the host's boot though, before realizing her claws are good for latching and climbing. Poor Yurolt is about to have his foot wear scaled!

Risks? What Risks? Brown Hatchling bounds and leaps as though he's fully aware of what he's doing when truthfully he's not at all prepared for such antics. Most of the time he just harmlessly bounces off things, but a few times he comes dangerously close to toppling off some precarious perch on a chair leg or whatever else he's grabbed before he's regained his footing and zips of somewhere else. Until a piece of meat flops into his view. Hello. What's this? It's gobbled promptly, possibly the leftover from the green too and then he's zigzagging his way to the source: Eirwyn. Settling back on his haunches, he peers up at her, not wholly convinced but he can /smell/ more. Share?

Eirwyn looks to the firelizards as they sort out their footing and her attention gets drawn by the brown hatchling. Definately the safer choice of the two. Bringing home a 'minime' to the jealous dragon, probably not the best idea! As the brown attention shifts to her event at that moment she crouches down and grins, "Want some more?" She asks as she dangles another bit of meet within reach of the flitter's maw. "Here ya go."

Th'ero lifts his wine glass once more as two of the hatchlings are already making their choices after pinging all over part of the caverns. He's relieved that there are shields — err, available folk — to bond to them, though his growing headache is making it difficult to focus. "Don't forget to feed them to drowsiness." he tells the two of them. Setting his glass aside, he reaches for the stack of papers set to dry between layers of rice and towels. He lifts the corner of one, only to promptly set it back. Not yet. Sigh.

Yurolt looks down at the green beauty currently climbing his foot. The brown is completely forgotten and the guard thanks his lucky shards he's wearing his high boots. Those tiny claws would easily pierce his flesh. He bends slightly and offers some meat to the green. "Aye, thank you, sir." He nods to Th'ero for his reminder. With his other hand he deftly scoops up another portion of meat.

Whoops-a Daisy-Green Hatchling creels and chirps with an eagerness to her tone when Yurolt offers the meat he has, quickly gobbling it down though some falls to the floor. That has her clumsily twisting off his boot and landing with a soft 'fhwumph' to the ground to clean up. Second time around, she scales his leg a little more easily. Nothing like some food for motivation! Up and up she goes until she's carefully settling herself more or less in his lap and reaching with forelegs and muzzle for the new handful of food. More!

Risks? What Risks? Brown Hatchling can't answer with words, but he can certainly answer with action! That dangling meat is pawed at, missed, then swiped at and missed again. Growling, the little brown suddenly crouches and then awkwardly springs upwards, wings half flapping in some strange attempt of flight. But it gets him to his goal — sort of. Eirwyn's going to have an armful of hungry brown firelizard, as he perches there to get the meat she offered him. No more games!

Whoops-a Daisy-Green Hatchling looks into Yurolt's eyes. Impression!
Risks? What Risks? Brown Hatchling looks into Eirwyn's eyes. Impression!

Furry Little Thing Egg shivers in it's little hollow, a small bit of movement before it truly begins to rock in earnest. It seems to be the last of eggs rocking.

Yurolt grins down as the little green settles in his lap. He continues to feed her meat until her belly bulges. With a hefty sigh, for a hatchling, she closes her eyes and rests her head. The guard looks at her lovingly and then grins around the rooms at no one in particular. He notices the brown lizard is gone and see Eirwyn heading off. Again that stupid grin as he looks back the green in his lap.

M'lo's own green firelizard swoops down and land on his lap, and M'lo trades a sappy grin with Yurolt. "I remember it like it was yesterday," he says wistfully.

Th'ero watches as Eirwyn goes off to a quiet corner and his words likely follow her departure, "It's not quite the same, but similar in some respects." Obviously the bond goes much, much deeper with a dragon. "Not so difficult, is it?" The Weyrleader asks Yurolt with a bit of a smirk. But the humming is continuing and they are short on shields — err, available humans. M'lo's whistful remark is met by a low chuckle from the bronzerider, but he makes no comment.

Furry Little Thing Egg shakes and shakes away, rolling a little in it's little spot in the sand as if being knocked from side to side. Small little cracks form on it's shell, gradually widening before small flecks of it break away. No egg can withstand such punishment for long though and soon it splits to dump it's occupant as well.
Furry Little Thing Egg hatches, revealing a egg-wet hatchling.

Bring It On Blue Hatchling
Like the different layers of an ocean viewed from above, this blue hatchling's hide is multi-hued. A base of sky blue is cut by bands of dark sapphire, draping down over his back and banding around his legs and his tail. The stripes are a little indistinct at their edges, giving him a more flowing appearance rather than stark lines that have a clear beginning and ending. The dark blue continues over his face to frame his headknobs, and lines strike down over his forehead to give his brow a permanently creased look.

Yurolt nods to M'lo, returning his grin. To Th'ero he says, "No sir, I thought there'd be more involved." His eyes light up as the blue is born. He glances around quickly and notices that potential 'parents' are rather low. The guard knows that people can have multiple firelizards but is it rude to try for two at the same hatching?

Rude or not, it's either try or watch it go wild. Th'ero doesn't make any effort for it, though his gaze seems to linger on Yurolt as if expectant or simply curious to see what the Guard will do. "Not with firelizards, no. Have the food ready to lure, keep your emotions in check and so long as there aren't too many around you warring for their attention… It usually works." Usually. "At least you do not have as much to fear from a firelizard hatching. Too small."

Bring It On Blue Hatchling frees himself from both his egg and the basket and hops down awkwardly, only to have a claw snag on the way down. But rather than creel piteously about it, he instead chooses to lash out at the offending object, spitting and hissing with a burst of fury! He frees himself, jumping away and then facing his "opponent" in a stare down until he's certain he's "won". Other needs win over though and soon the blue is on the prowl, sniffing and immediately drawn towards the tables.

After learning how to this with the baby green, Yurolt is quick on the draw and tosses the blue a chunk of meat. He's careful not to disturb the green on his lap but he does lean closer and focuses his thought. His lips can be seen moving and if one listened very closely they'd hear, "Come on little one. Come on." Yurolt is all grins.

Th'ero only breaths a sigh of relief that the blue has something to focus on… or someone rather. The Weyrleader wasn't about to try but neither did he wish to wait for the hatchling to clue in and turn wild. Instead, he checks on his paperwork again and discovers that the pages have now dried sufficiently enough that he can begin to gingerly pull them free of all the layers of rice and towels.
Bring It On Blue Hatchling doesn't waste time, it seems and the moment the offer is made, he closes in on Yurolt, eyes whirling red with hunger (hopefully) and tail lashing. The first piece is gobbled down and then he greedily charges forwards and much like his previous sibling, he scales his way up. But he's far from gentle like the green, he's rather rough and shows little fear. Even the green will get jostled about, the blue not seeming to care if he "accidentally" steps all over her.
Bring It On Blue Hatchling looks into Yurolt's eyes. Impression!

Yurolt smiles again as this rough and rowdy blue scampers up his leg. Though he does try to divert the little bugger from stepping all over his clutchsister. Food and more food is offered until the blue is saited and passes out. Yurolt decides that he ought to move away from the hearth lest he be the focuse of any other hatchlings, though he's not sure how many eggs remain. Better safe than sorry. He scoops up the little sleepers in the crook of his arm and moves past where Th'ero and M'lo sit. "When will they learn to fly?" He asks because he suddenly realizes that though they're his now, he still has a duty to the Guard corps. Wouldn't want to have to carry these little guys around for fear of waking all the time.

"Immediately," M'lo says. "Firelizards are self-sufficient as soon as they hatch. Dragons were designed to be more dependent on humans, according to the history." His other two firelizards join them and peer at the little ones in Yurolt's arms, curious about the newly hatched.
It seems as though the eggs are a mixed bunch, as the humming soon dies down and the adult firelizards drift away. No more eggs are moving, though none look unhealthy or defective. Th'ero does frown a little, likely making a swift mental note to have someone candle those eggs just to be sure none are empty duds. Having extracted the first pages, he's just glancing up as Yurolt approaches but M'lo beats him to the reply. So he simply nods his head, "You can pretty much start training them now too. Which is advisable." he points out, though he gives the Weyrsecond a curious look. "I thought the dragon's were held back just to avoid unnecessary injuries or strain on their developing muscles?"

Kimmila finally returns, looking a bit pale, but she seems okay. "What happened?" she asks as she returns to Th'ero's side, sitting down gently nearby. "Did they hatch?" she adds, eyes noticing the tell tale evidence of such. "Yurolt, two?" Is she done with the obvious questions yet?

"Yes, Th'ero's right," M'lo agrees. "Train them immediately. Three or four times a day for five to ten minutes, with lots of rewards of food and affection when they do what you want, and mostly ignoring when they do what you don't want." He glances over at Th'ero. "That, too," he says. "I mean, there were a whole lot of reasons to do that. But think about it — you have these enormous creatures who are capable of reasoning and intelligence, and who are also capable of a huge amount of destruction. In fact, their entire purpose is to burn Thread from the sky, to breathe fire upon Pern's age-old enemies. Making them dependent upon their human lifemates is a safety precaution. Just like making greens infertile so the planet isn't overpopulated, and instilling the instinct to fly against Thread. Dragons /must/ fly when Thread is in the sky," he quotes.

Yurolt nods and thanks M'lo and Th'ero. "I'll be sure as soon as they wake up, sir. There are enough people with them around the weyr for help should I need it." He hopes. The lad has no clue how to care for them but he is a quick learner. Yurolt nods to Kimmila and gives her a worried smile. He's arrogant but he's also reserved when it comes to personal topics. He decides to go ahead and be polite. "How are you? Is there anything I can do for you?" Perhaps he's stepping on Th'ero's toes, but he's just trying to help.

Th'ero's attention turns to Kimmila as she joins them again, concern in his eyes and in the slight frown he gives her. He waits until she has settled beside him again before bending his head down to whisper to her, quick and brief, though his response to her question is clearly heard. "Only three of them. The others haven't moved and the humming stopped. Could be a mixed assorted clutch." he murmurs. Glancing back to M'lo, the Weyrleader chuckles dryly. "All true as well. Whatever the reason, it was done for the best intentions and has worked for generations. No sense mucking with it now just for curiosity sake." There's a snort when there's mention of greens overpopulating the world, though it brings a brief wince. His head is probably still aching a bit despite the effects of all the wine he's had. Yurolt's offer does perhaps cross slightly over the line, but Th'ero does not correct him. He leaves that to Kimmila, focusing instead on gingerly pulling a few more pages free from the stack.

Kimmila reaches over to rest her hand on the back of Th'ero's neck, massaging gently. "I'm fine, thank you for asking, Yurolt. Congratulations are in order again, I see? Your first, yes?" She nods to M'lo as well, giving him a small smile.

Yurolt grins and nods vigorously. "Yes, ma'am..I'm sorry, Kimmila. They are. No one in my family has had one." He smiles lovingly at the little buggers sleeping in his arms. His eyes dart over the papers Th'ero keeps messing with, but it's probably something above his pay grade. Instead he gently stands and grabs a mug of klah before returning to his seat.

M'lo nods back at Kimmila with a grin. "So… Yurolt, is it? I don't believe we've formally met, before. I take it you're not from here?" Kind of an easy assumption to make if he's the first in his entire family to ever have a firelizard.

Th'ero doesn't relax under Kimmila's touch but stiffens instead as he's startled by it. He glances sidelong at her, curious and a little puzzled, but he's a wise enough man not to pull away. So eventually it will do as it's intended though he looks between M'lo and Yurolt for a moment, as if nervous. "Brave of you to take on two at once and at the same stage of their life," he muses to the young Guard, once he's cleared his throat slightly. Again, his gaze seems to linger on Kimmila but he seems assured now that the bluerider is fine.

Kimmila smiles more warmly at Yurolt, nodding her head and looking pleased. She stubbornly keeps up with her hand on Th'ero's neck, watching the others, gaze lingering on the firelizards Yurolt holds. "Sorry, M'lo, this is Yurolt. Yurolt, this is our Weyrsecond, M'lo." Leaning over, she whispers something to Th'ero in reply, and then she's rising. "Sorry, gentlemen, I'm going to go check on Kyzenviro."

Yurolt waves a goodbye to Kimmila and looks to M'lo. "Pleasure to meet you sir. PFC Yurolt." He thumbs his shoulder knot. To Th'ero he replies, "Is it going to be rough, sir? I hadn't thought of that."

For some reason, Th'ero's comment about Yurolt's bravery to take on two baby firelizards sends M'lo into a snickering fit. He has to wrench himself back under control, though the merry twinkle in his eye doesn't fade much. He nods to Kimmila as she leaves, and then turns to Yurolt. "PFC, eh?" he says. "Well met, well met. Say… I think I've heard your name, before." He glances back and forth between the young man and his boss, but then only grins at Th'ero and lets the man answer the question.

Th'ero's frown again turns to one of concern as Kimmila whispers to him again, but he does not stop her when she rises and says her farewells. "Give my thanks again to A'rtomus, will you?" he says softly, waiting until she is gone from his sights before turning his attention back to Yurolt and M'lo. "Could be. Some find it difficult and others find it easy. It depends on your level of patience." he tells the young guard, his tone serious with just a hint of amusement there now. M'lo's snickering fit is given a curious glance, one brow arching up though the Weyrleader says nothing.

Yurolt senses something between the Th'ero and M'lo. Perhaps that infamous sparring match Yurolt and the Weyrleader had? "I've..uh…developed a bit of patience these last few weeks. Hopefully I'm up for the challenge, sir." He sips from his mug of klah and savors the taste.

M'lo leans forward, careful not to squish his firelizards - between the three of them they're taking up nearly his entire lap - and fixes Yurolt with a grin. "Th'ero's right, you'll need a lot of patience with them. But as someone who's raised his fair share of firelizards, kittens, puppies, and a dragon, and three children - two of whom are twins, I'll have you know - I can tell you that it's not impossible. But the most important advice I can give you is this; be consistent. If you aren't consistent, they'll never respect you."

Th'ero hasn't said a word about the sparring match between himself and Yurolt, though undoubtedly there is gossip about it. Very little can be done inside a Weyr that doesn't get witnessed or passed along eventually. "I'm sure you have," is all he says in a cryptic remark to the young guard, all while glancing sideways to M'lo again. He dips his head though in agreement to the Weyrseconds advice, "And there is the key to anything, really. Respect."

Yurolt takes the full meaning of Th'ero's comment. Both comments. Perhaps rumors have been spread…perhaps some by Yurolt himself. He nods knowingly to the consistancy statement and respect. Though Th'ero could probably see the glint in Yurolt's eye, the glint of hero worship. Not too extreme, but still there.

"Respect, yes," M'lo agrees. "You will never find a leader who hasn't the respect of those who follow him. Some would say that the best leaders know how to make their people love them, too. Loyalty is a unique kind of love. You may raise those firelizards, and they may respect you, but if you don't gain their loyalty they'll eventually go back to the wild. That's really the only way to keep a firelizard, and I've seen many a man or woman lose theirs because they failed to grasp that." He gestures to Th'ero. "Take Th'ero, for example. He's a leader, and everyone respects him. And though he's a hard man to like, if you ask those around here they'll say they're loyal, because he's proven himself to be fair and just."

Well this has become awkward again. Th'ero coughs slightly as M'lo uses him as an example, a little taken aback by the Weyrsecond's words though he schools his expression well once he's recovered. "I wouldn't say everyone," he tries to say, modest and a little uncomfortable. "And it has taken Turns and a few blunders along the way." he points out, glancing to Yurolt as he does and perhaps catching that glint and while he doesn't wholly understand it, it's enough to make the Weyrleader a little edgy. "But there is wisdom in what M'lo has said. It's a learning process and it does not just apply to leadership." But it certainly helps. "If you two will excuse me? I really should get this paperwork to the Weyrwomen," Plural. "And perhaps check in on Kimmila and Kyzen. Congratulations again Yurolt and it was nice speaking with you both. Clear skies… and try not to get caught in the storm." Th'ero murmurs as he rises to his feet and gathers those papers he so meticulously dried and kept safe all this time. Nodding politely and respectfully to both, the Weyrleader then takes his leave.


'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.