Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is an autumn midmorning. As the sun creeps up in the sky, the gentle breeze blows through the trees, their leaves green with fringes of brown and golds as the fall cooler nights prepare them for the winter.
Branwyth takes off.
Above, Branwyth dissipates ::between:: as lithe and green as mystical green smoke.
Above, Myrineth takes off, with a snap of wings, from Myrineth's ledge.
Myrineth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Catia slips down Myrineth's side, using the dragon's foreleg as a step.
Anwyllth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Catia bustles round, as always, calling out to weyrfolk just which supplies they should have handy - for threadscore and all that. She also seems to be caught in her new duties as Wingsecond, fussing over her fellow Infernal riders.
Above, Ftoranth winks into ::between::!
Anwyllth takes off.
Above, Anwyllth gains momentum and vaults ever higher, vanishing ::between:: at the pinnacle of speed.
Above, Chanticoth takes off from Nylanth's ledge.
Chanticoth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Ilare swings a leg over Chanticoth's neck and slides down his shoulder, landing gently on the ground.
Myrineth extends a foreleg, enabling Catia to mount easily and settle herself between two neckridges.
Lis putters about like a good wingsecond, going up and down her wing in support of Tai's efforts. Straps are checked, firestone distribution officiously monitored, and general anxious fidgeting occurs. Alymath manages to stick a muzzle next to her rider, keeping her grounded and sane. A change from the usual, anyhow.
Swinging his wings out of the way, Chanticoth offers a foreleg to aid Ilare, who swiftly clambers up and settles between Chanticoth's neckridges.
Using a twiggy forelimb, you manage to get yourself up onto Alymath's silver-brushed neck.
Myrineth takes off.
Above, Myrineth disappears abruptly ::between::!
Chanticoth takes off.
Above, Chanticoth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.
You take off.
Above the Bowl
The ocean's tranquil thermals settle within the center section of the bowl's airspace, unusually smooth and bouyant -- though oft to switch as the seasons shift. Lingering beneath spires' constant presence, the perpetual activity of the weyr can be observed from every direction: from the testing rustle of dragonet wings, to the playful games sent aloft.
It is an autumn midmorning. As the sun creeps up in the sky, the gentle breeze blows through the trees, their leaves green with fringes of brown and golds as the fall cooler nights prepare them for the winter.
You visualize Sky Over Nabol Hold for Alymath.
Alymath thinks to you, << Ok, I am now envisioning... >>
Alymath winks her silver'd green self ::between::, leaving empty sky in her place.
:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...
Sky Over Nabol Hold
Below, the mountains stretch on to the east covered in the precious softwoods tended carefully by the Nabolese. Below Nabol Hold is enfolded protectively in the moutains that stretch north blending into the lush greenery of the Esvay Valley. Grasslands lie to the south and west running in sweeping, cultivated fields to the ocean.
It is an autumn midmorning. As the sun creeps up in the sky, the gentle breeze blows through the trees, their leaves green with fringes of brown and golds as the fall cooler nights prepare them for the winter.
Blue Trydanth, green Branwyth, brown Ftoranth, brown Anwyllth, brown Chelath, green Myrineth, and brown Chanticoth are here.
Alymath turns a patch of sky platinum green as she appears from ::between::.
And here's Inferno... and Tsunami... and Suncrusher... and even the weyrling wings below, dragon colours blinking bright in the midmorning sunshine, as bright as the Thread that flickers closer and closer... as bright as the first burst of dragonflame.
Ftoranth is ready to play. He's learnt a few extra tricks now and wants to show that Thread that he's a winner.
A delicate spiderweb of Thread plummets out of the sky in front of Ftoranth.
Branwyth bugles in greeting as her friends arrive, watching carefully for signals to get into formation.
Curling movements pulsing with every contorted twist, a clump of Thread reaches out towards towards Branwyth.
A small knotlike bundle of Thread blossoms, reaching out like a fisher's cast net, hoping to ensnare Trydanth in its hungry grasp.
Ftoranth flames the Thread, shearing it as he pounces and swerves away from it. <
Aloft at Anwyllth's vantage-point, "Here's for good luck," Daeyn murmurs under her breath, shoulders tensing slightly. She chuckles then, cocking a brow at her dragon. "All right, all right. But luck can't hurt ..."
Chanticoth rumbles faintly as he winks in from between's frigid nothingness, wings automatically sending him towards his wingmates. A bugle of challenge is offered the falling threads, even as his rider preps herself for refueling him on his mark.
Branwyth eyes the curling, twisting thread with contempt, and with a flash of red in her dark orbs, flame erupts forward to sear it before it can pass.
Chelath skips ::between::!
Trydanth can take that bit of Thread, no bother... Banking left, he flames easily, ignoring D'renn's shouts as the raspberry-clad rider grabs hastily for the straps.
Chelath blinks in from ::between::!
A knotted tangle of Thread cascades downwards, tumbling past Anwyllth with silent grace.
A ropy clot of Thread drops silently off Chanticoth's wing.
Alymath growls ferally at the menace, as if it could be so easily scared off. Most males are, but this requires an extra impetus of flame. Keeping her dragon from darting ahead, Lis reins in the green who lets out a satisfying belch of flame that immolates a chain of clumping Thread.
A long white tendril of Thread sinks in deadly silence, just ahead of Alymath.
Tumbling end over end like a dandelion, a delicate wisp of Thread dances on the wind, bouncing past Myrineth as it drifts lazily downward.
From betwixt brandy-butter ridges, Ilare gives a scowl as threads plummet past, her brown ready as a blast of flame ripples through the air and singes the nasty silver death-ribbons. A grin of triumph as black dust skitters down instead of deadly rain.
Chili Pepper flys around sporadically. This is this lil guy's first fall and boy is he excited... His eyes turn a red, which brings out the slightly redish tint in his hide as he prepares to let loose the flame from the firestone he had just chomped on before getting here.
Anwyllth twists with liquid ease, shoulders plunging downwards ... then blasts an anticlimatic stream of flame, quite controlled, but more than enough to leave the strand a memory.
Myrineth puffs out a wisp of flame as delicate as the threads that skittered by her. Alert in her wingsecond's place, Catia looks round and back, relying on her lifemate's skill to keep them safe.
She missed one? She /missed/ one?! Alymath creels furiously, chasing the tendril of Thread with her usual turn-on-a-tailtip agility. Lis, accustomed to such acrobatic feats, is still jarred by the suddenness, letting out an 'urp' that's drowned out by the sounds of dragons.
A long snaking filament of Thread descends above Chelath.
An angry, hissing knot of Thread falls into Branwyth's path, writhing in eerie gyrations as it seeks the lush earth below.
Chelath, with the wisdom of turns upon turns, calmly aims and lets an adequate blase to char a Thread filament.
Chanticoth flames again, large spike of fire engulfing a clump in its grip, before he cants sideways, dipping a little to get ready for the next piece of thread to fall his way.
Sejith blinks in from ::between::!
Branwyth banks sharply to avoid being scored and with a split second to manouver curls quickly beneath the deadly sizzling thread, flaming with white hot intensity, reducing it to black dust....harmless.
From Branwyth's neck, Sasha's eyes are flinty with determination and a couple of hearty thumps to Branwyth's side, acknowledge her pride in her dragon's agility. Glancing around, she notes carefully the positioning of the other riders and urges Bran to fall into place.
Shango darts here and there like the lizard he is, and nimbly avoids both threads and dragons' breaths.
There's a pained cry from Suncrusher wing - one of the greens has caught herself some Thread against her shoulder. But a moment winked between, and she's back into the fray.
Asca flies around, determined as her dragon cousins. Her eyes changing color drastically, she lets the flame be conjurred from inside of her, thank goodness for that firestone! Chirping wildly, she is prepared to help in the fight.
From Sejith's neck, T'rell arrives with a whoosh of frigid wings from nothing, along with the Istan relief wing. In a synchronized V, the dragons sweep into the onrushing silver, bright flame flashing the Thread to char.
From Ftoranth's neck, Dea directs Ftor to a cluster of Thread, only to see that Ftoranth had already heading that way. She sends waves of encouragement to her favorite imp. Ftor flames the Thread, looking for more.
Aloft at Anwyllth's vantage-point, Daeyn's lips move without sound, reciting to herself as she tightly grips the straps. She seems to be ... counting? ... but not in sequential order as her eyes dart to assess the winged fray around her.
Squashed between Trydanth's neckridges, D'renn's happily shouting at the weyrling wing far below - old habits refuse to die. Trydanth's busy though: flame, flame, fire!
A snakelike filament of Thread hisses its way past Sejith, slithering across the sky towards the ground below.
A silvery clump of Thread falls near Ftoranth, fanning out as if to ensnare him.
Tangled into a convoluted knot, a clump of Thread races by Alymath, as if to elude her dragonfire by its speedy descent.
A young gold wheels around to let her rider catch an incoming thread.
Two dragons flame in unison, completely obliterating a clump between them.
Sejith flames strongly as the wind captures and tosses tangles in his way; and nothing remains but ash.
Lis attempts to turn around to spot the Tsunami rider that ducks between, still cringing at the sound of pained-dragon. Alymath presses on mercilessly, seeming to pause between charring only to inhale. Another stomach-churning drop ensues, and the green cuts it close between scoring and burning as hot ash drifts against her flank. Lis grumbles something inaudible, admonishing Alymath under her breath.
From Myrineth's neck, Catia winced as that green shrieked her way between, but she concentrates now on Myrineth, leaning forward to toss more firestone into her own green's maw... the lump of stone fielded and crunched expertly by Myri.
Ftoranth seeing no escape, flames what he can then ducks betweeen... Heheh can't catch me like that.
Ftoranth skips ::between::!
Ftoranth blinks in from ::between::!
As a brown dragon disappears ::BETWEEN:: as it is hit, a green manages to catch the rest of the clump it missed.
A tangled mass of Thread drops alongside Chanticoth.
Backstreeth's back, baby! Brown arrives, flaming away, N'sync already in rhythm with the flight and thread fighting. Several tangles a singed before boyband pair skip, hiding in between.
Asca suddenly disappears ::between::!
The Istan wing crosses over the breadth of the Fall, bright colors glinting in autumn's slanting light. The formation weaves and changes, a smoothly sliding pattern between the steady High Reaches Wings.
From betwixt brandy-butter ridges, Ilare shifts 'tween her dragon's ridges, giving Chanticoth's neck a thump in warning. Fire blasts forwards as head is raised, but not all the tangled mess of mass is caught. With a rumble, Chanticoth flickers between.
Chanticoth skips ::between::!
Chanticoth appears from ::between:: with a florish of his wings and a cheerful bugle.
"No, you cannot be serious!" shrieks T'nis - his notorious catchphrase - as Racqueth fails to avoid ash drifting from above. Her green hide's instantly spattered, as are T'nis' white leathers....
From Sejith's neck, T'rell wipes ash from his goggles, clearing his vision in a momentary lull. His dragon glides, whirling eyes red, and he dives to capture slithering silver in his firey embrace. So much for clearing those goggles...
A delicate spiderweb of Thread looms before Branwyth, waiting to ensnare her.
A green rider yells a warning as an unseen patch approaches another dragon.
A long, thin strand of Thread slips past Anwyllth, writhing in hungry eagerness to reach the ground below.
From Branwyth's neck, Sasha darts forward flaming furiously to catch the evilly twisting filaments.....Ooops too fast...she vbeers slightly, and find herself in their path...flaming them swiftly she disappears between to avoid any that were missed....
Branwyth skips ::between::!
Branwyth erupts into the atmosphere, with a sudden rush of swirling, spiralling air.
A seething mass of Thread sinks, almost lifelessly, past Myrineth.
Ash scatters as a huge clump is hit with flame.
A sheeting ribbon of Thread tumbles like a dandelion past Chelath, twirling downward towards the ground.
Myrineth skips ::between::!
Myrineth appears from the blackness of ::between::!
Chanticoth returns from between, jaws dropping open to lash out at thread with rapid fire shots. As the black dust drifts below, he returns to the formation, head turning to accept more firestone from his waiting lifemate.
Thread's shadows pattern the sunlight, the harmless light a reminder of the enveloping presence of the deadly, mindless foe.
Trydanth holds position in Zephyr, not far behind Chanticoth, not enough below that he's not about to singe the brown's tail, even with the furious flame that he sputters forth.
From Chelath's neck, Z'diah mentally directs his 'mate to char a new set of thread with mammoth blast, eyes keeping track of his wingmates about him.
A new dragon flames his first patch of thread, and his rider grins proudly.
A tumbling ball of Thread kites past Ftoranth, fluttering as it sails downward.
Anwyllth growls low in his throat, the expression just a herald of fierce conflagration as the brown whips around, nearly too fast for Daeyn to stay balanced ... straps or no straps. But his efforts are rewarded, though his rider is likely to have bruises ...
Icy-blue Sigmunth flames bright, like a winged candle, as he cuts a fire-and-ash arch in the oncoming Thread. F'reud yelps a sudden heat thermal brings a clump bearing down on them, but quick, cool logic of the blue takes them between and leaves the Thread for Alymath to clean up easily with a well-place tounge of fire.
As a dragon disappears ::BETWEEN::, another moves over in the formation to cover for her.
A tangled mass of Thread tumbles downwards towards Sejith.
Sejith spirals upward in the Istan formation, instinct and skill combined in a dangerous dance. Small on his brassy neckridges, T'rell readies the ammunition, but it is the dragon himself who expels the gouts of golden death and destruction.
From Branwyth's neck, Sasha reaches into firestone sacks, slung alongside her, for more ammunition, and feeds it quickly to Branwyth's waiting jaws. Worried eyes watch the storm, trying to calculate the next moves Branwyth will have to make....
A bronze dragon trumpets alarm and disappears ::between!::
Trydanth dives, ducks, wheels.... tilts his head back to accept the stone D'renn's offering.
Pallid grey streaks the skies, glinting downward toward the harvest below. Only the fighting wings stand between it and its next meal...
Weyrling dragons flit in and out - it's that time in the Fall when dragons need refuelling and so do their riders' sacks. Heavy bags of firestone are tossed through the air, lobbed and caught with the ease of much practice.
A green and a blue both go for the same patch of thread, and the green quickly dodges as she sees the other dragon.
A silvery tendril of Thread tumbles on the winds, spinning close to Anwyllth in its fall.
A writhing knot of Thread descends stealthily, slipping silently past Chanticoth in its downward fall.
Alymath hovers in place briefly, great wings making elegant sweeps to keep her aloft as she cranes her head back to Lis. The greenrider leans forward to restock her lifemate, satisfying sounds of crunching stone coming muffled from inside the green's maw as she moves forward against the next wave. Grey is lit briefly with color as its seared, ash swirling with the flap of Alymath's metallic'd wings.
Ftoranth pounces, dodges, flames as all of his former confidence returns. He'll let no Thread get past him. Nope, nope. So there.
A meal the threads won't be getting any time soon. Thanks to asteady turn of practice, refill sack is caught by Ilare and thumbs up given, before she gives her mindmate a mental nudge as threads try and descend without notice! While she secures the sack, Chanticoth lets loose flame once more, charring the nasty grey mess to cracked dust.
A brown backwings to flame a large clump of thread.
Trydanth skips ::between::!
Trydanth appears from ::between:: like a bolt of blue lightning.
Trydanth comes fast out of between, wings folded tight to plummet after the Thread that threatened. Hah. Take that!
From Sejith's neck, T'rell snatches a sack of firestone midair, the weight of it caught by rider's arm and dragonwing. The bronze, powerful in flight, catches and updraft and lifts gracefully to meet and sear the descending foe.
Anwyllth curves almost lazily through the air this time, a vowel-yawning drawl made physical as he twists around, a casual burst of flame making short work of the Thread's erratic path. Daeyn somehow finds a moment to rub her side, but no more than that.Two greens break formation briefly to flame several clumps..
A large chunk of Thread plummets out of the sky in front of Alymath.
The charred thread drifts down from the sky, covering the land below in black ashes.
Twirling around like some spiraling child's toy, a group of Threads spin dizzyingly down past Anwyllth.
A nearby brown is caught in a clump and blinks ::BETWEEN::!
Dragons flick :between: and back again, dipping and swirling in their appointed rounds to sweep the skies clear of Thread. A blue, inexperienced in the ways of the wind, only has time to let out a strangled cry before he blinks out; he does not return.
<< PAIN!! >>
Alymath receives a medium score on the mainsail!
<< PAIN!! >>
Lis receives a slight score on the foot!
Lis catches a glimse of the hold below, only allowed to meditate on the people hiding inside and the crops she's protecting before another one of Alymath's stunts causes her to grip the straps for dear life. The green attempts a barrel-roll at the oncoming Thread, but it's not completed in time, and the pair skip between with shrill calls from each.
Alymath skips ::between::!
:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...
Alymath turns a patch of sky platinum green as she appears from ::between::.
Anwyllth matches the spiral with one of his own, pursuing the clump for a short but corkscrew distance, until he seems to be one with its movements ... and then a blast of fire, leaving ash to splash the ash of his hide.
From Myrineth's neck, Catia wavers in the wing formation, dipping below Inferno's assigned level for a moment before pulling up sharply back into position: that blue who blinked out is past her help.
Myrineth wavers in the wing formation, dipping below Inferno's assigned level for a moment before pulling up sharply back into position: that blue who blinked out is past her help.
Much to the horror of a brown's rider, his dragon swoops around a clump, barely missing it.
Sejith reappears from :between: in a burst of blue fire and ash, a sizzling tangle of Thread disintegrating before him in the thick of the Fall.
A group of Threads fall past Chelath, one after another, plodding downward with mindless determination.
A notable clump of thread falls before a bronze; the dragon barely pauses to flame the clump.
A delicate spiderweb of Thread cascades downwards, tumbling past Ftoranth with silent grace.
Chelath darts down and flames the group that thinks it shall get past him. he returns to formation quickly.
The Istan Wing takes the middle of the field in gliding lines; High Reaches dragons above and below to weave protection over the hold below.
Ftoranth dives after the grey spiderweb flaming. YOu can't get away that fast. Tag! you're flamed!
Alymath attempts a few more flaps, valiantly spouting a few more Thread-destroying flickers before she's convinced - both by the pain, and by her rider - to return to the weyr. A quick note of the pair's departure is mentally sent through the wing, and they blink between - the greenrider uttering a few tasteful oaths under her breath.
You visualize Above High Reaches for Alymath.
Alymath thinks to you, << Ok, I am now envisioning... >>
Alymath winks her silver'd green self ::between::, leaving empty sky in her place.
:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...
Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is an autumn midmorning. As the sun creeps up in the sky, the gentle breeze blows through the trees, their leaves green with fringes of brown and golds as the fall cooler nights prepare them for the winter.
You abandon the view from high above the bowl and circle lower, passing the Spires and Star Stones on the way down.
Central Bowl
Branwyth drops down towards the Bowl.
Myrineth appears from the blackness of ::between::!
Sasha slides from Branwyth's foreleg clutching her upper arm....."Shards!" she spits angrily as she winces with pain from the score she has just received.
Myrineth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Catia slips down Myrineth's side, using the dragon's foreleg as a step.
Catia slithers down Myrineth's side in a hurry, calling out - as usual - to all the waiting weyrfolk. "Numbweed! Redwort! Gauze!" All around is the usual post-Fall bustle - there seem to be no serious injuries.
Branwyth's head swings around to nose her lifemate in a worried fashion....<< My fault...I should have been quicker...Oh my Sasha...!! >>
< Local > Alymath senses that Myrineth hmmmphs, softly. << Do not berate yourself, young one. Mine will look after her. >>
Lis dismounts from Alymath, deciding hopping down to the ground from the last ring of the straps isn't such a good idea right now. The uninjured foot stretches towards the ground, finally making contact with the ground after some helpless feeling around. "Ooh, /ow/," she gasps, peering down at her boot - now scored beyond repair - and up at Alymath's torn mainsail. "Six Turns without accidents, and now...." If she's setting an example for /anything/, it should be as wingsecond; Faranth knows her personal life is less-than-exemplary.
"Sasha, Sasha, Myrineth says you're hurt?" Catia fusses after her ex-apprentice, not having yet noticed poor damaged Alymath.
Sasha releases her tightly clenched fingers gingerly from her arm and looks with dismay at her singed arm. "Well thats knackered a perfectly good flying jacket" she winces through clenched teeth, nodding at Catia.
"Here, let's take it off you," Catia responds, reaching to help Sasha out of the jacket. "Was Branwyth hit too? No?"
Above, Mzadith heads in from above the lake. Mzadith drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Above, Trydanth drops in from Spires' height.
Lis leans heavily against Alymath's side, her face suddenly falling in dismay as the green informs her of a pressing biological urgency: regurgitation. "Aw... Not /now/..." The greenrider makes in gingerly to a rock, sitting down with an 'oof' as the green scurries away to the ash pits, like a good dragon.
Above, Trydanth drops down towards the Bowl.
Trydanth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
D'renn slithers down Trydanth's side with only minimal help from the blue.
D'renn dismounts hastily, pulling off goggles and helmet as he runs towards Lis. "Lis, Lis, love, are you alright?" Course she's not, she was hit. Trydanth follows Alymath in the direction of the ash pits, stalking her solicitously.
"Cayl, come over here...." Catia summons her young wingmate at the top of her voice. "Are you any good with Threadscores?" She's busy trying to remove Sasha's jacket, to get to the greenrider's injured arm.
Mzadith backwings and lands with a light thud upon the ground; little energy for anything of grace. Cayl unbuckles and slides down from her dragon's soot-covered sooty neck. Having taken him to the ash pits first, she's saved herself the troubles of Mzadith chasing in after Alymath (That wouldn't have been a pretty dragon-chain) Hearing Catia she stands a bit taller (More because she was nearly slumping over at first) and heads over. "Yes'm. Dealt with them back at Ista." She busies herself with removing scarf and helmet and goggles, revealing a less then cleanly face.
Mzadith hugs the ground and watches placidly as Cayl clambers down the straps-'ladder' and lands easily upon the ground.
Luckily for Trydanth, Alymath returns to be cosetted over. At least she hasn't lost her ground mobility, like Lis, who's confined to the rock she's sitting upon. "Mmm... for the most part," she tells D'renn, trying to smile despite the pain lines around her mouth. Her boot is tugged at, the greenrider attempting to get it off to view the whole scope of carnage.
D'renn kneels down, mouth set in a rather stern line as he tries to unfasten the wreck of Lis's boot. "Of all the places to get hit," he scolds softly, looking around for a healer rather than at the injured foot. "What about Alymath?" Trydanth seems to want to know, too... at least he will once he's got rid of that nasty mess of firestone stuff.
Quara, who's been a rather low-lying presence this Fall, is dashing back and forth between one and another of the injuries, looking distressed and generally worried; she finally settles on hovering by Lis. "D'you want some fellis?" she inquires, before it occurs to her to /ask/, "Catia! Fellis is good, right?" Thank goodness for wingseconds who know what to do.
Sasha peels her jacket off slowly with Catia's help and snorts at the wound beneath. "Shardit! this wasn't supposed to happen!" angry at herself, she is in no mood to be gentle, but it does hurt...."Its alright Branwyth...this happens...its all aprt of being a rider...it had to happen sooner or later..its not your fault" she reassures the worried green.(repose in case you missed it..)
Lis cowers slightly under the invasion of well-wishers; granted, it's only D'renn and Quara, but the latter ought to count as two, if not three, for all the fussing and fluttering she does. "Can someone check on Alymath? It's just my /foot/," the rider grumbles, sending a look towards the green who's making a show of holding her injured wing out from her body - to better display the hurt bits.
"Only if she's in a lot of pain," Catia calls back to her wingleader, busy herself with Sasha. "Oh, it's not too bad," she tells her patient. "Cayl, can you get some numbweed on it - Branwyth did the right thing in skipping between," she adds to Sasha. "I think I need to look at Alymath's wing though...."
Sasha nods to Catia, still annoyed with herself. "You go..I'm not dying anytime soon....I probably could have stayed with a score as minimal as this...I just panicked." she looks at her arm again, not enjoying the sight but grateful that it was not a worse injury.
"Looks like Alymath's is the worse injury," Catia announces, looking up at the green's wing without having bothered to answer D'renn. "Apart from that poor blue and his rider, of course..." Her expression becomes angry as she waves weyrfolk to carry over a table for her to stand on.
Mzadith 's eyes whirl a deep banana in color while he follows every motion of Cayl, and the rider gives a quick nod to Catia. Probably best to slip into the old, still familar mode of healing then to think about how evilly cruel it was for thread to take a /blue/. (BLUE!) Taking up a pot of the numbweed, she regards the wound on Sasha's arm with that intence detachment of earlier days, and nods. "Hold still, Sasha. You know the drill." She states as she begins to smear the weed upon the score.
"Oh! Oh, dear, I was so busy fretting over you, and Sasha, and that /poor/ blue, and I never thought..." Quara is certainly the equivalent of two at least, fussing and fluttering all over Lis, her dragon, and anyone else who appears in her view. "Lis, dear... Do you want fellis? I can get some of that... And something to eat. Oh, shards and shells, and all this just at your turnday, too," she mutters, before going over to help the table-carriers. "Catia? What'll you need?"
With a bucket of redwort-tinted water, D'renn starts to wash Lis's foot himself. Greater love hath no man, and all that.... "Ooooh, it's nasty," he moans at his weyrmate.
Catia scrambles onto the table as Myrineth crowds in against Alymath, Trydanth still on the green's other side. "Well.... leave Lis for the moment, and pass me up some numbweed, please Quara? The thin stuff?"
Sasha winces slightly as the numbweed touches the scored limb...and then as it begins to work she relaxes slightly, allowing Cayl to apply more. "Can you believe it?" she hisses, still venomously angry at her own stupidity. " If only I'd alerted Bran sooner we could have avoided this."
Branwyth keeps nosing at Sasha with a frightened look in her eyes. and getting in the healer's way...<
Alymath hunkers down for Catia's convience, instructed by Lis to let the dragonhealer see her wing. Wingsail is held limp between wingbones, though the injured bit is offered for mending. Meanwhile, Lis is alternating between going mushy over D'renn's thoughfullness and biting through her lip as tender skin is washed. "It can't be my Turnday... Or do I get bad ones every five Turns?" The wry babble is cut of by a pained squeak, echoed by Alymath's contralto.
"Another couple of days, love," D'renn answers mildly, lifting Lis's foot from the bucket into his lap, so he can look at it. And wince. "Erm... should I dry this before putting numbweed on? Someone? Anyone?" The bluerider sounds almost panicky in his indecision.
Checking the table to make sure it's secure, Quara hunts for the appropriate salve for a moment before finding it and handing it up; to reach the dragonhealer's level, she has to stand on tip-toe and prop herself slightly against the table. "Here you are... if you need anything, just yell," she offers, before wincing and averting her gaze slightly from Lis's foot. "I'm almost positive it is; mine's four months and a tenday before yours, and it's been a little over four months since mine. And do you want a little fellis and wine to take the edge off?" she inquires, solicitously, before half-snapping at D'renn, "I don't know, I'm not a healer. Catia!" she bellows, again. Poor Cat.
Kalette appears from ground weyr's overhung shadows.
Kariel appears from ground weyr's overhung shadows.
The bluerider nods her head softly as she slauves a bit more onto the wound while she talks. "Oh, I can believe it. You're talking to someone who's suffered those her fair share of score wounds." She attempts a smile, though it's weak at best. "Everyone gets hurt eventually, Sash, don't let it get to you. Besides, this is only minor. And it's not your fault, you -know- that." The healer turned dragonwoman turned healer reaches over for the cleaning mix and turns back to the wound. AS she scrubs lightly to remove dead skin and the rest, she nods. "Besides, I saw how quickly Branwyth skipped. She did well."
"Use one of those cloths - /gently/! There's no lint to get into the wound..." Catia calls down D'rennwards, a bit absently, as she starts to slosh numbweed onto Alymath's injured wing. "Thank Faranth there weren't worse casualties today," she mutters down to Quara.
Lis glares up at Quara for her lighthearted rambling, bitting out a bitter statement of, "Fellis tastes like yesterday's dragon-droppings. I'm all for something potent and exotic. It's traditional to get drunk on your Turnday, isn't it?" If not, they can make it one. Alymath whimpers slightly before the numbweed sets in, peering curiously at her wing to make sure it really and truly is there, as she can't feel parts of it.
Kariel scuttles on out from the weyr, glancing around as he totes his first-aid kit out. "Sorry I took so long..." he insists, casting an accusatory glance back into the ground weyrs and sighing. "I had to find someone to watch Sephne while I left." Cute little bugger, but she can't be left alone for even a moment. "Who needs attention?" he queries, looking around and casting a thankful look to Catia...
D'renn flaps his hands about for a moment, then spots the healer. Perfect person. "Over here, please? Lis's foot.... I washed it, but...." The poor man's distraught, and why should he be doing Kariel's job anyway?
Trydanth edges closer to Alymath, crooning softly as her pain disappears. The blue doesn't seem to be picking up his rider's distraction, but then, he's used to D'renn.
"Well, we've certainly made it something of a tradition, dear. And if you don't mind, I can mix up a little concoction quick." Quara'll even put some fellis in it, but hopefully not enough to taste. And spotting Kariel, she waves him in the general direction of the Lis-related clump. "Over here! And then... is someone seeing to Sasha?" she asks, distractedly, before hunting down a drudge and giving the poor girl very explicit directions. "And make /sure/ you bring them all," she finishes, before returning attentions to Catia. "Oh, dear. That doesn't look too good. What d'you think?" As if the dragonhealer doesn't have enough to do, she's got to field Quara-questions.
Lis leans forward to pat D'renn reassuringly on the arm, balanced awkwardly on one hand. "Shh, love, you've done a wonderful job," she assures him, trying to stifle the occasional wince - though it's easier now, with Alymath calmed if highly curious. "Put it in the creampuffs, Quara, and I'll owe you for life!" she calls clutchmate-wards.
Catia has enough to do, that's for certain. Lower lip bitten between her teeth, she's busy threading a needle. "Alymath'll be fine... just grounded. And in the ground weyrs for a little while," she adds, glancing over towards Lis and D'renn before starting her careful, patient stitching.
< Local > Alymath senses that she burbles happy, curious bubbles with temporary iridescence. << Oh, I do so like this... This numbweed. It makes all the pain go away, and it feels like... >> The bubbles suddenly cloud over and pop as she hears her sentence. << /Grounded/?! >>
< Local > Alymath senses that Myrineth is firm. << Grounded. >> she answers softly, carrying the weight of her lifemate's knowledge and decreee. << Till your wing heals for you to fly... just a few days, >> she relents after a moment.
The numbweed that Cayl is so carefully applying is beginning to work...the sting of the score is beginning to dissapate and Sasha nods gratefully in thanks. "You OK Lis?" she calls over as she scans Alymath and her fellow greenrider with a concerned gaze.
Kariel scurries over towards D'renn, nodding as he kneels beside Lis' foot and looks it over. "You doused it with water and such and cleaned it? Good. Very good." And then he begins to trundle through his bag-o-healer-goodies, setting random jars beside him on the ground. "Mosstea. Numbweed. Comfrey salve... and cayenne salve." HE leaves the sterile bandage in the bag... wouldn't be quite sterile if he laid it on the ground. Rubbing a bit of redwort on his hands, he then grabs the numbweed and, delicately, begins to apply it to the burn. "And Alymath with have Cadge to keep her company, at least?" Dagblamed gold won't leave until Pyrene leaves the Infirmary.
"Pyrene still in the infirmary?" D'renn asks, voice rather high and strained. Not that it's any of his business, but.... "Lis, Lis, if you and Alymath are grounded, will I have to look after the children? Will I?"
Bella steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
Quara is at this point calmed enough, mostly through the expenditure of nervous energy. The last of her adrenaline rush is dropping off quickly, and she's left with the usual exhaustion that follows a Fall; she does, however, have the time to take the rather copious amount of edible and potable items the drudge brought her and set them down by Lis. Involved for a moment in pouring a mix of fruit juices, the new cider, and a bit of wine, as well as the aforementioned fellis -- that last in small quantity, but hopefully enough to dull the pain -- and handing the drink to Lis. "Down that, dear, and then I've got some creampuffs and cookies for you. Might not be the best food, but the sugar'll do wonders for you. And then you won't be drinking on an empty stomach."
"Can I have some? Please?" D'renn makes hopeful eyes at Quara - why should Lis get all the good stuff?
Kalette waddles on out behind Kariel with a look on her face that betrays confusion, pure and simple confusion. Rather than worry herself over it all, she slides towards Kare, and looks are shot in every possible direction. "S'there anything I can do to help?" she murmurs, a hand going to her stomach as she stares, blankly, about the crowd.
Lis purses her lips in a grimace at Alymath's protests echoing in her head, the green's eyes rippling with licks of red and orange at her imprisoment. "Oh, shut /up/," groans the rider at last, adding, "No, not you, Kariel. Alymath." D'renn is looked up at, and eyes close for a moment as she takes a deep breath, telling her weyrmate, "The kids were at Thiyo's during the Fall. I'll stay with Pyrene in the infirmary, and help out with the children. Stop by, whenever you like. I'm not going to stick you with Pyrene until Alymath can fly." It'd be like cats and dogs within a candlemark. The drink is eyed with speculation, and downed with practiced ease. "Mmm. Thanks, Quara."
Cayl finishes her cleaning of the wound, and inspects it carefully before she begins to apply the final mix of comfrey and numbweed. "And you are...." She finishes and turns to set the pot down, smiling back at Sasha. "Finished." She glances towards Lis, though wouldn't dare try to pick her way through that congragating (sp) crowd that circles her. She even manages to chuckle weakly to Sasha. "Oh, I think she'll be alright." She motions towards all the people before looking at Sasha's green. "Branwyth made it through alright? Any burns or such?"
Sasha begins to shiver slightly in the cool autumnal air...and without a jacket too...or is it just shock? "Bran...your OK aren't you? I'd know surely...." she looks searchingly at the green but can see no sign of damage.
Catia finishes her work, nodding at it with self-approval before hopping off the table and heading towards Sasha. "Everything alright? You're fine to fly, with an arm score, although I'd rather you didn't go between for a couple of days..." That's an order disguised as a suggestion. "Branwyth /is/ fine, isn't she? Myrineth tells me she is."
Bella takes a deep breath, half amazed at the nomber of dragons surrounding, half amazed at the number of people. Ooh... Fall. She's content to stand at the side and watch, very much interested in hte ahppenings at the Weyr. She looks first to Cayl, then around at everyone else. Interesting... leaning up against the side wall of the bowl, she peers.
Quara rolls her eyes at D'renn; luckily, she'd had the foresight to have several extra glasses brought out, and she ends up filling those with more of the heavily-spiked fruit mix. One is handed to D'renn, and then she tosses one down herself, before putting a touch more of the fellis in another glass and taking two, both the drugged and one of the others, and trotting over to Catia. The dosed mix is handed to Sasha, and the somewhat less potent stuff offered to Catia. "Drink that. It'll do you good." She may not be a healer, but she knows her drinks.
D'renn takes the glass hastily, swallowing whatever Quara's put in it without comment. He trusts her, clearly - bluerider camaraderie again? "Healer, Lis's foot will be alright, won't it?"
Branwyth snakes her neck further down to Sasha and buts her slightly with her headknobs, to indicate her worry. She shows no sign of being scored.
... and here I had to leave. Lis was grounded for a time, but has recovered, as has Alymath. Both are sporting scars, though they're not often noticed.