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 Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 1:12 pm
One of the best things about being a weyrling was that you could nearly always get away with slipping down to the lake, with the excuse that your dragon needed a bath. And it was true! S'dekai loved Pioth... but there was a LOT of him to love. Really a lot. If he wasn't hungry, he needed oiling. If he wasn't itchy, he could use a quick once-over at the lake to get that nice rich gleam back into his bronze hide. At least that initial frenetic growth spurt was slowing down a little, as he progressed from Junior to Senior Weyrling... though it just meant that oiling and bathing took longer due to the larger quantity of hide that needed attention.
"Not that I'm complaining," he remarked to Pioth aloud. While he'd mastered the curious form of telepathy that dragon and rider shared, when the two of them were alone he still defaulted to talking. It was something to break the quiet, and sometime Pioth would respond with a rumble or a croon. "I wouldn't trade you for anything."
Of course not. There is a patch right under my wing that has been bothering me - there, right there. Pioth rolled over onto his side, half-floating in the waters of the lake, S'dekai perched on his shoulder. The rider had abandoned his shirt and shoes and was already quite thoroughly soaked from the process of bathing his dragon. He leaned over and obligingly scrubbed at the itchy patch, and was rewarded by a pleased noise from Pioth.
Circling above the bronze, popping in and out of between at erratic intervals, were S'dekai's two flits, Cress and Quickfire. They were chattering as usual, fighting over something or another... At a soft call from the bronze, though, both immediately stopped what they were doing and came down to investigate.
There is an interesting plant over there. Could you fetch it for me? I don't want to knock Mine into the water by moving too much. With another burst of noise, the blue and the green sped off.
"...How d'you get them to listen to you? They only ever yell when I tell them to do things."
I ask politely. Also, they know that you will get them extra meat scraps if they are good, Pioth responded with faint humor in his mindvoice.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 2:09 pm
Sometimes it was very pesky, being of a freckly sort. It usually meant that when it came time to bathe and oil the great gigantic girth of Ianath, Inaari had to wait for the sun to dip down below the bowl of the Weyr so that she might escape a burn or massive explosion of the tiny spots. Sadly though, that meant that unless T'ron and Cavenath had waited for her - which they often did! - Inaari was alone down in the water with her dragon. Eirlyn had stressed her getting to know her dragon's clutchmates better, and she'd been trying. But sometimes it just was not that easy to catch people, and there was always that odd deference that got in the way. Apparently that was the lesson to be learned?
So it was a great surprise when Ianath bugled a quick greeting down towards the lake, interest apparent in her mental voice. Mine, Pioth is bathing with his as well! We will have company today, and I have not talked to Pioth yet. At least, not outside of the lessons, where he was always very kind, which was in turn very important to the ceaseless attitude of the gold. So instead of the running down to the lake with Inaari on her back as was their custom lately, the queen dragon tried to make herself look stately and proud.
Looking down the hill towards the water, the girl only sighed. Well, the extra exercise would not go amiss at any rate. She was already too big in the back, she didn't need more weight to go with it! Reaching the edge of the water, Inaari waved as she tied her nut brown shift up into a pair of rather baggy shorts. Very quickly she had learned the dangers of a white shift in water. "Hey there! I didn't expect to see anyone down here, it's really rare. How are you doing, Pioth? You're almost as big as Ianath now, that's really impressive." And it really was - Ianath was huge!
I am still growing, Inaari. I will get bigger yet! Sigh.
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