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All That Lies Between


Date:  October 4, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Central Bowl
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Many thanks are due to Lanisa, because if she hadn't 
provided the bits in the sky that I was missing, this would be a much 
less complete record of the Weyrlings' first class in going 
*between*. :)  I've doctored those parts a little so that they meld 
with the rest of the log.  The Weyrlingmaster team takes the Icemelt
Weyrlings *between* for the first time, with mentors Kassima and 
K'ran watching--as well as discussing the Wing reduction situation--
on the ground.  It's an ultimately successful exercise, but one not 
without its hazards for some....

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The Log:

You head in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

Lysseth lumbers into the central bowl area from the lake shore to the north.

Lanisa comes out of the barracks, basically on M'tri's heals. And at the
sight of everyone awaiting their arrival, she gives a sharp salute before
she and Tisiath are falling in beside the other blue pair.

M'tri can get in enough trouble with Daikoth's help; a salute is
perfunctory as he hurries out after his dragon, falling in at a point where
he hopes the center of the line will be. Anything to avoid being
conspicuous. As Lani falls in beside him, he grins widely. Wee, lessons!

I'sai looks to Claret, "Line 'em up, facing in so everyone can see me. Hear
me." He nods to a few observers, horizontally-held hand lowering: the
weyrling will need to concentrate. And then he says to everyone, "We're
*betweening* tonight. Change of knots, first. I'll wait till you're
settled," and he glances to Bronwynn and Emilly with a hint of smile, as if
wagers had earlier been made on just how fast they'd do it.

K'ran walks here from the south.

For once not dusty, nor damp, nor flower-crowned, Kassi's instead
reasonably presentable and wearing flight leathers; her riding helmet's
tucked beneath her arm. Either she's been keeping her ear to the ground or
employing spies again. "Weyrlingmaster, Assistants, Aide," she greets first
and quietly with a crisply formal salute for each such personage present;
"Weyrlings," next, and salutes returned as they're given. No further
comment, but she cocks an eyebrow at the Weyrlingmaster team: may she attend?

Emilly folds her arms across her chest, watching the weyrlings hustle out
and line up. It may be that she looks a little nervous around the edges
herself, though she's trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

Claret turns her head, ducking around Avrieth's side so she can see those
that have followed as well as those that preceded her. Saluting dutifully,
if in a somewhat haphazard fashion, she makes her way to a spot that looks
like it might function well as the head of a line, Avrieth trundling behind
and giving a little rumble of greeting to the other dragons. Waving her arm
in an overly expansive gesture, Claret echoes I'sai with a, "Line up!"

K'ran, approaching the lakeside from the far end of the bowl, slows his
steps when his eyes find the arrayed weyrlings and instructors. What had
been a smile-lit expression sobers; he remains off to the side, then,
sufficiently close to observe, with arms folded across his chest.

T'bay falls into line as well beside his comerades, repeating the salute
for the weyrlingstaff, then for their Wingleader, and even the Weyrleader
as he, too, is observed. Sarevith offers a warm, hearty tenor bugle of
greeting, T'bay mostly grinning nervously at the echo and at the gathering
of folks present, facing as he'd been directed, feet shuffling back and
forth before he stills the habit in favor of inhaling and exhaling several
slow breaths (in with the good air, out with the bad air. Repeat).

Bronwynn falls in to I'sai's side, watching the weyrlings arrange
themeselves. At the weyrlingmaster's mention of knots she holds up a
handfull of 'em, waving them around so that little glimpses of the
dragon-colored threads catch the light. She tosses a glance over at Emilly,
a 'we'll see' sort of look, behind I'sai's back.

Salute, salute, salute - I'sai, Emilly and Bronwynn each get one. Another,
accompanied by a wry grin, is afforded Claret. Kassima just gets the
leftover grin, broad and winky without a wink attached, and then V'lano
falls into line, which Volath has already done. The Weyrleader goes
unnoticed in the young rider's effort to get into place and split his
attention between the 'masters and his wingleader.

S'fin ushers observers like Kassi over to the side, near K'ran: just the
right distance to watch the weyrlings who'll be putting their lives at
stake, and yet not distract them. Hopefully.

Lanisa glances from one riders face to the next and then stifles a quiet
groan as she watches the expressions. In her case, she fidgets a little,
then clasps her hands behind her back and looks straight ahead as she waits
to hear what's next.

Kassima flashes V'lano a smile back, and there's a similar smile for Claret
for all that the Weyrling Wingleader's doubtless preoccupied, then accepts
S'fin's ushering with a nod of thanks to him; Lysseth follows, the green
pair taking up a station suitably unobtrusive without a single quip or
catcall beyond a sincere-sounding murmur of, "G'luck," to the Assistant.

Emilly slants a grin Brynn's way and nods once, though her arms stay firmly
folded. Perhaps she needs to hold onto her own hands to keep them from
shaking. She looks toward the onlookers then, smiling at Kassi and nodding
K'ran's way as well. Then her gaze returns to the group, one foot absently
digging into the dirt of the Bowl.

M'tri pales a bit at the announcement. Betweening. Twiddling his fingers a
little as he assumes an at-ease stance, Trii looks cautiously at the
weyrlingmaster staff. The looks on thier faces don't help much to ease him.
Oh goody.

I'sai looks them over, a long, slow glance that encounters each pair in
turn; at length he says, "Good job, Claret," and nods Brynn to give her the
plain rider's knot, and give -him- another knot. It matches the
greenrider's old one in complexity, but in this light, it's hard to
distinguish the exact color of the thread. "So. *Betweening*. It's like
stepping sideways where you never knew there was a step before. Up until
this point I've - we've - trained you, we've spent a whole lot of time with
you, we know you. And it's our duty to do so. But this time, it is
absolutely and completely up to you. Anyone fooling around tonight -will-
be grounded." Even well-trained weyrlings don't come back, they likely
might have heard; this is the lesson in which most die. "I want you to take
a moment, just be quiet and look around you and look at your friends,
steady your breathing and get yourself grounded. This is natural for
dragons, and _I believe you can do it_. But you won't get into trouble for
running back to the barracks now."

K'ran answers Emilly's nod with one of his own, should she glance back his
way; otherwise, though, he's quiet, lest his presence distract. He makes
another survey of the line of weyrling riders, perhaps measuring.

A low exhalation escapes V'lano, worried and relieved at once. The emotion
behind it must be mixed, for Volath's head whips sideways, the growing
dragonet eyeing his rider with a wary eye. That eye remains deep green, but
a roiling motion to its facety swirling suggests a muted echo of his
human's anxiety.

T'bay clears his throat and does his best to look prepared, aiming to stay
calm for the sake of Sarevith, who is fluttering his large wings in a
half-show off, half expression of eagerness and mixed agitation. "We're
good," he murmurs. "We've practiced and been approved a dozen times. We
read each other. We listen to each other. We can do it." Funny it should be
T'bay giving the reassurance when he's the usual lesson doubter, but he
seems to be extending and sharing that energy to those nearest him in line,
who might be M'tri and Lanisa on down one side, encouraging those who are
likewise prepared to stay and avoid the Barracks return run. And look! No
references to the rock-weyrling-incident. No no, won't think of that.

Claret darts her gaze nervously from the Weyrlingmaster staff and
accompanying riders to the other weyrlings, chewing her lip anxiously.
Fidgeting her way to Avrieth's side for comfort, she tries to take a deep
breath, though the effort is rather shaky.

Bronwynn wears little expression as she looks over the sobering weyrlings.
She exchanged knots with I'sai and goes about quietly reorganizing the ones
in her hands with only a little sideways glance to see if anyone runs.

Kassima flicks Emilly an answering smile, and if it's a brief one, that can
be blamed on the gravity of the moment. She folds her hands in front of her
with her helmet dangling from one wrist. It's a formal posture, and her
survey of the Weyrlings is at least as solemn. Lysseth's regard is closer
to impassive.

Sionath on the other hand, a distinct contrast to her rider, looks
positively brimful with energy. She's sitting up, wings half-furled as if
she can't wait to get going. She radiates confidence at the group of young
dragons and even paws at the ground a little impatiently.

Lanisa looks straight ahead another moment more before she too looks down
the line. A faint grin for those on the one side of her, and then a
slightly more reassured one for T'bay and lastly M'tri. A nod, as she looks
there a moment longer and with a quick glance to Kassi, she finally settles
her focus again on I'sai.

Daikoth's small croon of comfort is enough to make Trii untense and lean
into the nearby head, rubbing the muzzle firmly. T'bay's quiet words earn a
small, anxiety-tinged lash of Trii's tongue as he whispers back, more
sharply than the word was even intended, "Yeah." Daikoth makes a small and
consoling whuffle into his rider's hair, earning a shakily released breath
that rattles a bit as it leaves.

Doralle, of all people, wrings her hands, but although she looks uncertain,
the young brownrider stands pat.

I'sai explains matter-of-factly, the way he's explained for those other
classes, as if this were just as simple as them, "What we're going to do,
is - after your wingleader's tapped - fly up in formation. Up to above the
Star Stones. And we're going to look at it, just the way we've practiced.
And you're going to get that image in your mind, just the way we've
practiced. And then we're going to fly back towards the central bowl, just
the way we've practiced, and you're going to give us - the weyrling staff's
dragons' - the image, just the way we've practiced. And, just the way we've
practiced, we'll correct the images and send them back to you. But this
time, while Fehuth and Sionath help you hold the images, Taralyth and I are
going to *between* to your version of the image," and fly well out of the
way, just in case, "and send you how it _feels_ to *between*. And then
you're going to do it. Just like that. Any questions?" And even while he
waits for those questions, he moves: to T'bay, as if confirming what that
change in the brownrider's demeanor has earned, with the wingleader's knot.
In lower tones as he hands it over, "Your 'seconds will be J'len. And
Roberta." - "Good luck, man."

One more salute, this one accompanying a smart ninety-degree turn to the
side. T'bay'd probably have to see though Sarevith to see it, but V'lano's
accepted the new leadership - and looks somehow all the more relieved for
it, his shoulders rounding and chest beginning to move again with the rise
and fall of regular breaths. Volath, eased by this, stretches his neck out
low and long, wings twitching in the anticipation of air beneath their sails.

T'bay clamps his mouth shut, realizing his words may not have had the
comforting effect for his lifemate and those nearby like he might've hoped
it would. Settling himself instead, T'bay smiles, forcing it to be a strong
smile of reassurance, though it weakens when the knot approaches and
doesn't move on down the line. After a held breath, T'bay intentionally
exhales strongly, reaches out a hand that only shakes for a moment, and
accepts the temporary position with the knot, instantly masking his first
instinct response by biting down hard on his bottom lip when Roberta is
named. Recovering, he squeaks a requisite, "Thank you, sir."

M'tri, for once, is completely silent, tilted up against the comforting
solidity of his dragon, his eyes half-lidded. No doubt in conversation with
the blue, focusing, getting consolation from him instead of scolding him.
T'bay's upgrade is completley missed, as a result.

Emilly lets out a deep breath and finally releases her elbows from the
deathgrip she had on them, letting arms swing to her sides, she sends a
grin T'bay's way, then she eyes her lifemate sidelong and shakes her head
just a little, perhaps musing on the vagaries of said green.

Lanisa sends another glance T'bay's way, and another smile, then she's
nodding to the rest, repeating it to herself quietly as she unclasps her
hands to rest one on the blue hide beside her. Tisiath however just looks
eager as he always does. -He's- ready at least.

Avrieth seems, for once, to have adopted a portion of her rider's anxiety,
evident in the rustling of her wings and quickly whirling eyes. Lowering
her head so her breath ruffles Claret's hair, she gives a low croon,
prompting Claret out of her anxious reverie. Thoughts broken, Claret sends
a bright smile to T'bay.

I'sai recognizes T'bay's restraint with an approving nod, squeak or no
squeak; "You'll do fine," he tells the brownrider, and reaches to clap him
on the shoulder, though he doesn't stay to help him don it. "All right,
everyone! Mount up. T'bay, get 'em in the air. Up above the Star Stones.
Brynn, S'fin, Emilly, let's go." -Here- he nods to wingleader and
weyrleader, and as Taralyth stretches in a long-winged rustle, gets set to
ride.

I'sai swings up to Taralyth's neck.

Doralle mounts up with the others, although her knuckles are white as she
carefully straps in, and now and again she glances over to the two who
might be her wingleader, someday.

Kassima nods slightly in approval of the latest Wingleader choice, and
turns her head long enough to murmur some inaudible comment to Lysseth. The
green's tail flicks once. They both look forward again in time to catch
I'sai's nod; Lysseth returns it, and Kassi brings up a hand to salute not
only him, but all of them.

Emilly takes a deep breath and moves over to Sionath, tightening a strap
and then swinging up onto her back.

Emilly hops up onto Sionath's back, .

Sionath shifts slightly as her rider mounts.

Bronwynn climbs atop Fehuth, giving him an affectionate pat as she settles
between his neckridges.

T'bay is efficient, at least, in applying the knot to his jacket's shoulder
before he waves his arm above his head in a stolen gesture indicating the
group should mount up. After he's done the same, he steels his own nerves
by taking the time to check in on the group, giving an encouraging gesture
to Doralle as well as calm smiles (they're best for covering his own
worry!) to the rest of Icemelt's riders who've joined them in the bowl. "Up
we go," he waves, this gesture ending with the wrist's turn and a finger
pointing upward.

A small smile curves K'ran's lips for the selection of Wingleader, but then
he's bidding a quiet, "Clear skies," up after I'sai. His more emphatic,
"Good luck," is presumably for weyrling ears.

M'tri swings onto Daikoth's neck with the help of a proffered foreleg.

Lanisa makes her way onto Tisiath's neck.

T'bay makes his way onto Sarevith's neck.

Sarevith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

V'lano, entranced momentarily with perhaps one last visualisation exercise,
comes out of a faint daze with a shake of his head at the sound of a voice:
K'ran's, as it turns out. Dark eyes widen, and the youth turns a salute
into the first upward grab onto Volath's foreleg. The Lemos butcher swings
around his dragon's barrel, then pulls himself up the other side, hidden
from the view of his fellows until he appears between those glimmering
neckridges.

V'lano makes his way onto Volath's neck.

Volath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Claret clambers onto Avrieth's neck as the dragonet turns her head to
inspect her progress.

Daikoth nudges M'tri into motion. A couple more deep breaths, and he checks
his gear, then, using the foreleg as help, swings onto Daikoth's neck, his
usual ease making way for a bit of clumsiness. Eventually, and without
injury, the boy makes it up and buckles in with hands trembling so much he
gets rather frustrated and has to completely stop the process to start
again. Finally, he's buckled in, gives his straps a once over, twice and
third over, and then looking to T'bay for his cue. Daikoth is already
poised to spring, his wings half-spread, eyes swirling anxiously, perhaps
eagerly. But he waits for M'tri to give his own cue before uncoiling and
springing upwards.

Taralyth swings his head over to eye the young pairs - and then all at once
leaps, prismatic wings brilliant in the bright autumn sunlight, and takes
to the skies.

Sionath spreads her wings wide and -trumpets- brightly then springs lightly
into the air, she hovers, hanging back until all the weyrlings are in the
air, edging in from behind to keep them moving upwars.

Taralyth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Sionath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her
aloft.

Daikoth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Above, Sionath soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Before V'lano appears ready, the bronze's wings outstretch, his head
crooking upward to guide his takeoff. A powerful leap sends him onto his
sails; then he turns and beats, climbing into the air behind the brown.

Above, Sarevith soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Tisiath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Above, Volath soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Above, Daikoth soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

>From Avrieth's neck, Claret buckles herself in nervously, her movements
quick, but far from deft as her fingers slide of the buckles every few
moments. Taking several deep breaths, she makes a conscious effort to slow
the motions of her hand. Settling herself in, she presses her lips in a
straight line as Avrieth springs into the air.

Avrieth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her
aloft.

Fehuth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Above, Taralyth soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

K'ran tips his gaze upwards, even as he raises a hand to shield his eyes
from dust, to take in the weyrling dragons' ascent. "They look good," he
remarks, mildly, to no one in particular -- Kassima, perhaps, as she's
closest.

Above, Tisiath leaps eagerly after the others, and never mind if Lani's a
bit pale on his neck. They stay in formation and then take their time with
the rest.

Above, Tisiath soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

"They do," Kassi agrees, eyes on the sky and the swiftly-retreating flashes
of blue and green, bronze and brown within it. "Most of 'em have been doing
excellently, they say, with a few exceptions." After a pause she says more
quietly, "Would be nice if'n they all came back this time. I always hope."

Above, V'lano's expression may be startled, but his grip on the ridge in
front of him is easily firm, his seat on the bronze's neck solid and
balanced. Even as Volath shows off a little in a slow arc before falling
back into place among the other dragonets, luxuriating in the chilly air
with broad-spread wings shimmering in the bright light, his rider seems at
ease in the sky.

Above, Daikoth wings with relative ease into the open sky, even taking the
time to do a bit of carefree spirals for his rider's sake, an attempt to
calm the barely breathing young man between his neckridges. "I'll be okay,
Daikoth," he assures quietly, though he's copied Doralle's death-grip on
the riding straps. He realizes it, however, and loosens his grip, inhaling,
exhaling, both deeply. Daikoth wings nearer the Star Stones without either
a verbal command, or a cue from any of the rest of the group.

Above, Avrieth soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Above, Fehuth soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth circles slowly, leisurely, his
pattern around the formation without disturbing it; while waiting for the
last pair, he sends the by now familiar cue in a gleam of reaching-out
wordless thought: -here- we are. Just like this. Memorize it; -know- it;
and when all are prepared, Sarevith - a flicker-image of the brown, there,
a sense of how his mind tastes - will lead them lower towards the central
bowl again.

"Would be nice," K'ran agrees, though his tone carries the pessimism of
experience. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for it, at least. You been
spending much time around them?"

Above, From Tisiath's neck, Lanisa clenches and unclenches her hands a time
or two. Then takes a deep breath to let out slow. She's doing her best to
relax and focus, but she glances now and again at the others and then has
to refocus. Tisiath just hovers in place with the wing and finally gives a
low rumbling croon that seems to help his rider settle more than anything
else as she nods, pats his neck and murmurs something to him.

Above, On Sionath, Emilly continues to trail behind the weyrlings, keeping
a close eye on how they move. She dips this way and that though, as if
enjoying the flight above the Bowl.

Kassima darts a brief glance to Lysseth, some wordless communcation passing
between them. The dragon is as intent on watching the flying pairs as her
rider. "It can happen," that rider says without so very much conviction.
"M'clutch graduated intact. But the last bunch so lucky was long enough
ago, methinks, that I can't recall it. Aye, as much as other duties and the
occasional break will spare--watching the mentees, mostly. But with the
others too when the chance is presented. They're all worth knowing, though
a'course I've the ulterior motive."

Above, From Sarevith's neck, T'bay has a tight hold on the much-amended set
of straps that keeps him close to Sarevith, whose blue-tipped desert-hued
wings are widely beating at the air. Once in a suitable semblance of his
new spot in the formation, T'bay, with the help of Sarevith, begins casting
about to see if the rest of the group is assembled, then continues
breathing exercises to contain his nerves. Adrenaline driving him, T'bay
grins at the rest of the group, nods, then commences the memorization
portion, his study of the area intent.

"Ulterior motive?" K'ran inquires, his expression resolving into an
uncertain smile as he tips a glance over toward Kassima. "Just trying to
figure the best fit for Thunderbolt, or something more?"

Above, Fehuth follows the last of the weyrlings into the sky, weaving back
and forth behind them as if one might break off at any moment and go
darting away.

Above, V'lano leans low over the neckridge his hands are wrapped around,
gazing past the bronze's broad neck at the Stones. Volath, too, obeys
Sarevith's instruction, shuddering on an updraft with anxious wings. It
takes his rider's intensity to reconnect him with the view and disconnect
him from the threat of competitive edge, but soon this pair, too, is
clarifying an image in memory.

Above, From Avrieth's neck, Avrieth hovers, her position staying more or
less static while she gives Claret an anxious croon. Her attempt to smile
in assurance is tight and rather unsuccessful, but nonetheless she murmurs,
"I'm fine. Don't fret." Though her white knuckles give lie to another
sentiment, Claret doesn't spend overly much time focusing on her
discomfiture, instead looking around her with the greatest attention she
can muster, trying to visualize the star stones adequately.
  
Above, From Daikoth's neck, M'tri is gazing upon the Star Stones in
silence, perusing every detail as much as he can, one hand flat-palmed
against the neckridge in front of him while he commits the image to memory.
Daikoth glides along and occassionally flaps when he gets too far away from
what his lifemate is trying to memorize, but is indeed on his best behavior
at this point, with his rider leaned off to the side for a good view.

Above, Tisiath gives a second low croon as Lani stares at the Star Stones.
Fixing that image now, even as Tisiath does. This is something neither of
them rush, but the stout blue is clearly more ready to try than his rider.
She keeps her gaze locked until the signal comes for them to move on.

"Mostly that," Kassi assures, with a wry half-grin for him. "Certes that
most importantly. But a bit of guessing whom the other Wingleaders might
choose, too, so I can prepare m'arguments in advance should I need 'em. Or
in case the opportunity for a wager presents itself."

Above, From Sarevith's neck, T'bay waits for a few long moments after his
own study of the area is complete, allowing the weyrling group the time
needed to fix the image in their heads. When most have raised their gazes
anew, he passes the signal, leading the group toward their next
destination. Sarevith, for his part, croons reassuringly, though his voice
cracks and burbles with excitement.
  
Above, Sarevith glides down from above.

K'ran nods, for that, though remarks, "It probably makes the planning a
little harder, not knowing exactly which wings will be recruiting. I ought
to hurry up and settle that. Also ought to talk to I'sai about getting the
Wingleaders some time with the weyrlings, to introduce themselves and their
wings."

Above, From Daikoth's neck, M'tri allows his gaze to linger for a few
seconds more while Daikoth spins to follow thier new wingleader, resisting
a delighted bugle in favor of a quiet warble-croon as he glides along after
the brown.

Above, Daikoth glides down from above.

Above, Tisiath glides down from above.

Above, Sionath continues to hover, weaving back and forth a little as the
young ones wing down below, she watches them go, then snakes her head
upward, gazing at the Star Stones intently herself for a moment.

Above, Taralyth wheels past Sionath and back after the formation, speeding
just enough to try and catch up with Fehuth.

Above, Taralyth glides down from above.

Above, Avrieth glides down from above.

Kassima inclines her head in acknowledgment, allowing mildly, "I've chosen
t'assume 'twill be. Less harm preparing for that eventuality than the
other. I've guesses for who might nay be... but I'm still scanning for all,
though--harder, with Skyfire." On the other topic: "Would think he'd be
game for that; certes couldn't hurt. They might have questions we could
answer."

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth focuses on their thoughts -
not just the random flotsam and jetsam, but the single, singular image they
choose to project. Anticipation sharpens the diamondine light of him, waiting.

Above, Volath glides down from above.

Above, From Sarevith's neck, T'bay, along with his lifemate, enjoy the
downdraft of dragonwings that signify the arrival of the rest of the
selected members of the wing. The boy wraps the straps around the white
knuckles on his hand an extra time for good measure, fights back a shiver,
then concentrates on what they've just seen, aiming to share it with
Sarevith, who will share it with the dragon lifemates of the weyrlingmaster
and his staff.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sarevith rumbles reassurance, far
deeper than his tenor bugle, as light flickering on sand. Blending from
this is a crisp image, slightly overconfident, even, of the star stones,
with just a hint too much shadow behind them.

Above, From Volath's neck, V'lano, listening for instruction through his
lifemate for once rather than the other way around, just grins broadly as
the wind passes him by. That breeze uplifts the young bronze's sails and
whips a bit in the skin around his mouth as he, too, opens his maw for a
taste of the sky. They slow, sailing easy in the wake of other dragons, and
join the mass concentration of one image, echoed through so many minds.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Volath glimmers dark on light,
sparkling dapples of black reflection reversed off of a blinding surface.
Those dapples slip into a stony shape, spires emerging from the surface of
his thought, from a position just behind that represented by Sarevith's
image. Overinstructed by his rider, an undragonly perspective blends with
the shapes, making them warped a bit.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tisiath exhibits a confidence all his
own as he too projects an image. Presentation is everything and the edges
kept crisp and clear. The Star Stones, the sky surrounding them, the
watchrider in place. Every detail carefully cataloged, and a little -too-
eagerly displayed.

Above, From Avrieth's neck, Claret looks upward as she relays Avrieth a
final visualization. Features waxen, she doesn't take much notice of her
immediate surroundings or Avrieth's downward flight, instead trying to keep
her mind fixed on her thoughts.

K'ran hitches his shoulders up in a shrug, and supposes, "I doubt I'll get
a chance to make a formal announcement about it anyway, so -- I may as well
just let you and the other Wingleaders know, and let you pass it down to
your riders. We're going to retire Skyfire, Starblaze, and Sunstrike.
Riders in those wings'll get reassignment in the next sevenday; I'm looking
to have a kind of banquet so we can hang flags over the hearth and do this
right. I'll be taking over Icewind from Sericia, who wants to retire."

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Fehuth considers Sarevith's image, the
workings of his mind deliberate and careful, then he returns a similar
scene, tweaking little other aside from lessening those heavy shadows.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Daikoth's own confidence doesn't waver
in the least. His own image is just as confident as his clutchmate's, if
not moreso, detailed and practically chisled as it is puzzled together with
each intense attribute tweaked until it's just /perfect/ in his opinion.
Even with such meticulous work along his own sent image, it is completed
quickly, with the sunlight *blindingly* bright off to the side, the very
solid and large shadows of the stones a bit more on the other.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth takes in Tisiath's thought,
reflected in one of his facets - and swiftly shines it back to him, just
him, with some of those details blurred as unimportant or distracting: if
that watchrider lowers his arm from its lifted gesture, the weyrling needs
it not to matter. << There. Remember only what is important, Tisiath. >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sionath takes in Volath's impression
and then breathes it back out again, stripped of overlay and sparkling
clear with only dragon's eye view, of Stones crisp against the sky.

The corner of Kassi's mouth is tugged into something that's not a frown,
nor quite a grimace; simply a wry face. "Well," she says at length, "at
least I pegged two out of three. Skyfire grieves me, but Starblaze
surprises me. Your Wing's track record was good the last I knew; why nay
Icewind directly?" The tone of the question is curious more than
argumentative. Nor can she go long without asking, "Any idea how the
reassignments might shake out?" She's not watching the Weyrlings quite so
carefully now--at least, not with her own eyes; Lysseth's have never swayed.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Avrieth's tone is devoid of confidence
or eagerness that seems to permeate the tone of her clutchmates, instead
presenting with an air of greatly focused practicality an image of the Star
Stones that fades from sharpness into a slight blur.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sionath reviews what Avrieth sends,
contemplating the details and tweaks those blurs, so that all of her image
is clear. << Make it so that I can see it all, or you may lose your
reference point. >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Fehuth checks Daikoth's image next and,
like some flamboyant artist, goes smudging all over it with swathes of fog.
The perfect clarity of lesser items has been washed away. Changeable things
have been muted, given less importance, while the integral features remain
crisp and clear.

Above, From Tisiath's neck, Lanisa sits still now, waiting, watching. Hands
reasting on the handy neckridge that's close, she and Tisiath look to
Taralyth at nearly the same moment and she nods while the blue rumbles
quietly. Then she leans forward to murmur quietly to Tisiath once more.

Above, Doralle leans into her brown's neck, and the image he projects is
clear though shaky - but all at once he breaks formation, returning to it
only to signal to Sarevith and Taralyth, and then fly headlong down towards
the barracks. There, the girl hides against her dragon even as S'fin
crosses towards her, still looking pale but hugely relieved, the brown
crooning to try and comfort them both.

Above, From Sarevith's neck, T'bay, too, sighs with relief as his
peripheral vision catches Doralle when she decides to play it safe for the
evening, then his attention is back on maintaining that image, with tweaks.

Above, Astride Taralyth's neck, I'sai sits back, watching the pair fly down
- and pale eyes slide across the formation as if waiting for any others,
one by one. At last he nods to Fehuth and Sionath, and calls out,
Taralyth's reinforcing projection making it easier to hear: "We'll go. And
show you. And then it's -your- turn." And with that, the dragon disappears
into nothingness.

Above, Taralyth disappears into Between.

Above, Taralyth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the south, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Taralyth
and his rider, I'sai, welcoming them home. 

Above, Volath echoes the improved image, dragon and rider both set
obviously at ease as the stomach-twisting warp of the visualisation is
removed. V'lano's distracted by Doralle's break away from the group, but
soon Volath's intent focus on Taralyth draws his lifemate's attention back
to the task at hand - just in time to see the mighty, o mighty bronze fade
into thin air.

Above, Fehuth glides down from above.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth shows, -shares-: the peculiar
slide-slip that is *between*, entering an alien yet somehow familiar
country. Black, blacker, blackest - and then even the winds' chill are
warmth and -home-.

K'ran pulls one shoulder up into a shrug. "A few different reasons, really.
The big one is that I know this isn't exactly the most popular process, and
neither me nor any of Starblaze's riders wanted anybody thinking that I was
giving my own wing special treatment."

Above, Taralyth flaunts his wings wide, then veers into formation with
Sionath as Fehuth takes his place with the weyrlings; his rider pumps his
fist, then, watching: _go!_

Above, Sarevith disappears into Between.

Above, Sarevith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the south, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Sarevith
and his rider, T'bay, welcoming them home. 

Above, Sionath flies up a little, waiting for the dragons to pop out of
Between, watching closely in fact, to make sure that each does, neck
extended somewhat as if she could look into Between and help each to find
his or her way back out again.

Above, Sarevith takes wing, raising up higher, then extends his blue-edged
wings in an effort to imitate the positioning of the great bronze who
vanished before them. In a flash, and with a terrified moment of absolute
terror taking over any semblance of calm on T'bay's face, the duo vanish.

Above, From Daikoth's neck, As hard as he tries, M'tri is momentarily
distracted by Doralle's running back, and there's a moment when he seems to
be grappling with Daikoth--the blue, though, holds fast, despite whatever
quarrel they may be having. The bluerider weyrling slumps back against a
neckridge in surrender, in the end, and Daikoth holds fast to his returned
image, even against the projection from Taralyth and his rider. M'tri,
however, shivers atop his lifemate. "Hold it, Trii..." he chants to himself
for a moment, watching for I'sai and Taralyth and, unneccessarily, exhaling
a breath that he wasn't aware of holding. Leaning forward solidly, M'tri
nods his readiness, despite his horrified pallor.

Above, Tisiath disappears into Between.

Above, Tisiath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Tisiath and
his rider, Lanisa, welcoming them home. 

Above, Daikoth disappears into Between.

Above, Daikoth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Daikoth and
his rider, M'tri, welcoming them home. 

No argument from Kassi for that point; she inclines her head again instead.
"Arguably nay way t'win there," she says. "It spares Icewind when other
Wings losing Wingleaders weren't spared, which could be seen as special
treatment too; but it had t'be one or the other. I'll admit heartily t'bias
in saying there were certes worse choices for dissolution." The amusement
behind that statement is gently self-mocking. It's also cut altogether
short as the first pairs disappear: her eyes are on them again, watching
keenly above a bitten lip.

Above, Dragons disappear from the sky before Volath's swirling eyes.
Aboard, his own eyes useless for flying now, V'lano closes weary-looking
lids, jaw setting in intense concentration. Their shared vision is so
intense it leaks out in mental rays of white-hot light, the dragonet's mind
utterly focused. A swift beat of his wings and the pair break formation
only to join the ranks of the vanished, his rider visibly tense from
shoulder to toe.

Above, Volath disappears into Between.

Above, Volath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Volath
and his rider, V'lano, welcoming them home. 

Above, From Avrieth's neck, Claret's anxiety seems to increase as the other
dragons begin disappearing Between. Taking a deep breath and trying
consciously to keep her eyes from squeezing shut, Claret grasps the straps
tightly, murmuring under her breath as Avrieth's wings beat and she
disappears Between.

Above, Avrieth disappears into Between.

Above, Avrieth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished
bronze Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Avrieth
and her rider, Claret, welcoming them home. 

Kassima does spare a distinctly relieved look, though, for the returned
Doralle. "Wise lass," she murmurs, as soft as her dragon's uncommonly
gentle croon.

K'ran's smile turned wry, he mentions, "One suggestion I got was to just
dissolve *all* the Wings, and start from scratch. I said that not only did
I not want to deal with the whole weyr wanting to string me up, but I
didn't want to have to come up with nine new Wing names." His gaze climbs
skywards, too, as weyrling dragons begin to wink from view. "Think
Thunderbolt will be able to handle three or four new faces? Transfers from
the other Wings?"

Above, Tisiath bugles his arrival on the other side of the trip. Tada! Here
he is! The showman to the last. And Lani? Well she's gone from pale before
to giggling in relief as she leans forward to hug what she can of the blue
neck. They hover there a moment or so, and then Lani nudging, or Tisiath is
fixing on his own. A few wing beats forward and a slight adjustment to the
side. There. -This- is the right place. And only then do they remember to
see who else made the trip alright.

Above, Fehuth soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Above, From Volath's neck, Volath's arrival is more startled, the bronze
murmuring an unusual rumble of disconcertment at the Star Stones coming
into view below - and just a bit to the side of where they should be. He
shivers at the chill clinging to his wings, his talons, his - rider. The
rider in question has gone dread pale, but as cold sunlight mocks warmth on
his skin he shudders once, violently, and all but slumps into the neckridge
afore him, hugging desperately to his lifemate's star-dappled hide. At
this, Volath finds cause for true celebration, and trumpets a low note of
triumph before beating a hasty flap toward the spot he should have been, as
if getting there is urgent and important even now they're on the 'other side.'

Above, Sionath sends out a bright greeting to Tisiath and Volath as they
re-emerge, eyes whirling with excitement and perhaps also, relief.

"Aye, I recall Yselle saying as much in the Galleries. You've m'certain
thanks," Kassi agrees promptly and fervantly, "for nay going that route.
Probably the thanks of plenty of others besides." A moment passes before
she adds in a tone more thoughtful, "I'm just nay ready t'retire. Even with
the good fight effectively done. Oh, we should be; been open to the
possibility since the rumors first started, and a'course with the 'Lings
coming we'd have new ones anyway. Anyone in mind? Is it too soon t'ask
that?" Some tension leaves her shoulders as she speaks, less from the
conversation than from the reappearance of one Weyrling after another.

Above, From Daikoth's neck, M'tri made the trip, all right, but M'tri is
stunned for a minute. It's not because of the cold, or even the trip. It's
because he's leaned down and peering at the Star Stones closely. "Would you
lookit that..." Daikoth, who had, for M'tri's sanity, resisted bugles
previously, emits a triumphantly gleeful one now because he can.
"We're...this is it, right, Dai?" Shifting to his rear half-a-flap, Daikoth
rumbles assent, and a bit of warning that there will be none of that
dreadful clinging from /this/ pair; it's embarrassing.
  
Above, From Avrieth's neck, Avrieth appears from Between, unruffled but for
a stay of several moments longer than she ought to have been. Giving a
little bugle of satisfaction, Avrieth hovers in place while her lifemate
finds her bearings. Expelling a quivering breath, Claret takes a long look
around her, as if assuring herself that she really has escaped unscathed. A
convulsive shiver shakes her shoulders lightly in reaction to the extended
cold. Not yet thinking to check and see if the other weyrlings have arrived
safely, Claret looses a tense hand to rub Avrieth's neck for comfort.
  
Above, From Sarevith's neck, Time passes, long seconds before the return of
the overeager, confident boy who donned the wingleader's knot only moments
before. When the desert brown finally does break into the sky above the
watchrider and the Star Stones, it is a few more than five heartbeats that
have passed, and the sheet-white T'bay and his only slightly humbled mount
are headed right for the spot they'd chosen, which takes them directly into
the path of the hovering green Avrieth. Fear present in both T'bay, noted
by a howling yell, and in the whirling eyes and warning mangled bugle of
Sarevith, the duo blinks back *between*, unprepared, to avoid a collision.
  
Above, Sionath trumpets in answer to Daikoth. Yes, yes he did!

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth's been keeping close call on
his weyrlings' mental signatures all this time, and now he reaches -out-,
<< Sarevith! >> a new image a lifeline to grab onto, to come home.

Above, Sionath flaps backward a bit as the near collision takes place and
lets out a bugle of distress. Her rider though, holds her back, letting
Taralyth handle the suddenly missing Weyrling.

Above, Volath shudders mentally and flashes a soundless shriek made only of
light, his wings trembling in time with the sudden -absence-. V'lano's
slower to react but less capable: up off of the neckridge he'd been
hugging, stock-straight again, back arched. His eyes widen in dark dismay,
and he lows a murmuring moan of distress far more appropriate to the dragon
than to his rider - but Volath's struck mute, and sails in shaky formation,
helpless.

"Mmm," muses K'ran. "You know, I'd say, but it might be better to make all
the assignments at once. Suffice to say that I don't *think* you'll be
unhappy." Now that weyrling dragons have begun to *re*appear, relief begins
to creep into his expression by dribs and drabs. "So far, so good up there,
that I can see."

Kassima allows herself a momentarily smile. "So long as they're good riders
and nay H'tor, I doubt I'd be too displeased." She seems about to agree
with this latter statement, but pauses on the verge; her brows draw
together in puzzlement that swiftly becomes concern, nearly alarm.
"Something's gone amiss with Sarevith, Lyss says--but he isn't *gone*."
Which last statement dispels the alarm somewhat, but she doesn't seem ready
to relax.

Above, From Daikoth's neck, Daikoth's glory at his performance is
short-lived as thier wingleader disappears once more. M'tri, all dignity
aside, *clings* to the blue neck before him as he watches, breath baited
and eyes wide and unblinking. His mouth is moving soundlessly, and even
Daikoth is too shocked to protest to anything his rider does; rather, he
croons near where Sarevith had been only moments previous, gliding
anxiously to and fro.
  
Above, From Avrieth's neck, Echoing Sarevith's bugle with a loud trumpet of
her own, Avrieth drops down a short ways as she realizes the proximity of
the brown. Claret gives a muffled yelp as Avrieth's quick motion, though
insignificant and not nearly enough to have avoided collision if Sarevith
hadn't snapped Between, jars her off balance, causing her to slip and then
scramble to regain her hold on Avrieth's straps as she looks over her
shoulder fearfully for any sign of the other pair.
  
Above, From Tisiath's neck, Lanisa's relief is gone as quick as it came and
she's twisting to look about her. "T'bay..." Either mouthed or too soft to
carry, as if any would hear her just now. She glances to Daikoth and Trii,
and then to Taralyth, before scanning about her once more. Tisiath stays
quiet, barely hovering as Lani seeks.
  
Above, Astride Taralyth's neck, I'sai's gone very still on Taralyth's neck,
eyes narrowed on the near collision; as Taralyth bespeaks, he himself is
silent. Waiting.
  
Above, From Sarevith's neck, It is a loud bugle of a wail that announces
the return of brown Sarevith, some winglengths off of the initial mark, his
lifemate astride rather short on breath and pale as a ghost. Helpless to
explain, or even to comprehend, what just occured, T'bay is gasping for air
as Sarevith's wings beat against that same air just as frantically. When it
finally occurs to him to do so, T'bay looks worriedly about to locate
Claret and Avrieth, wondering if they, and the others, made it more safely
than his maiden trip, or two, *between*. Once they're safely locate, bugles
of fear turn to relief, amazement that they didn't end up somewhere really
unpleasant.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sarevith reaches outward in a
mirage-wave haze, seeking the comforting presence of the minds and beings
that are the other dragonkind, linking to them.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sionath broadband sends out quiet,
calming waves of reassurance. << I am here .>>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Volath is among those minds, shuddering
still with pale flickers of shock upon a smoothed night-sky ripple of relief.

Above, I'sai relaxes all at once, even as Taralyth trumpets in his turn,
welcoming Sarevith home; there's deliberate confidence in it, security, and
a dragon-underlined call: "Made it. Knew you would - we'll practice more
later. That was the hardest one; let's head back down."

"Trouble?" K'ran tries to clarify, all the while squinting urgently at the
darkening skies. "Any idea what's wrong?"

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Daikoth is not particularly /quick/ to
offer his own mind as anchor, but does relent as the haze touches him.
Comforting and burnished, the croon that had been in his throat mildly
makes the transition through into a comforting mental vibration. He, too,
is there, another offer of security.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Lysseth offers a warm outpouring of
light from below, meadow-green and glowing and welcoming: << You are 
here, >> she sends. << You are home. >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Taralyth gleams pure blue - and if it's
darker deep down, near the heart, it's bright above - << Sarevith, >> he
names. << Avrieth. Daikoth, Tisiath. Volath. Fehuth. Sionath. >> All here;
all home.

Above, Sionath echoes relieved bugles with a pair of her own and starts
herding weyrlings down to the ground briskly. << Everyone to the ground,
down. Down. Everyone. >> It's a "nothing to see here" sort of action on the
part of the green and her rider, also pointing down.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tisiath's mind is there to greet
Sarevith's return as well. Part of the reassurance wrapped in a calm presence.

"Of some sort," Kassima confirms, rocking back slightly on her heel. "But
they're here now; back, safe. Methinks they may have gone somewhere else by
error, but Lysseth isn't sure."

Above, Sionath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Avrieth glows outward in response to
Sarevith's return, though the warm tone is layered with remnants of anxiety
at the near miss.

Kassima adds with considerably more pleasure, "They're *all* back safe.
There's a poke in the eye of the odds."

Above, Taralyth wheels wide-spanned circles about them: no hurry, just go,
go. After Sionath; back to the barracks and down. As they pass the
watchrider, I'sai does look away to trade salutes.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Indrath shares a proud note of vibrant
green thought, now: << Welcome back, young ones, >> he offers, rich emerald.

Above, Sarevith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Above, Daikoth snaps back 'round as Sarevith returns once more. His welcome
is more subdued, a shuddery sound that mimicks his riders very quiet,
"Thank Faranth." The blue appears reluctant to follow Sionath's orders. It
means little, though, because flying is no fun with a shaky rider atop.
Slowly, to allow time to gather wits and feelings, Daikoth angles his wings
and glides towards the ground.

Above, Daikoth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Above, Astride Volath's neck, V'lano whoops a thrilled holler of relief
unworded, lifting a fist into the air. That hand is promptly slapped back
onto the strap left idle on his thigh when the dragonet wheels and tails
chase after Sarevith toward the ground, for once all too happy to be
heading out of the air.

Above, Volath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

K'ran exhales quickly, tensely, and nods. "You're not kidding," he says.
"Maybe... maybe with the Pass over we'll see more bucking the odds."

Above, From Avrieth's neck, Claret expels her breath slowly as Sarevith and
T'bay reappear. Safety secured by a measured glance, she then turns her
head to make sure the other weyrlings came through safely. Fingers flexing
on her straps, Claret looks considerably relieved to hear the order to
return to the ground. With a low croon of reassurance, Avrieth, whose neck
had been twisting to satisfy her own curiosity, focuses her attention on
winging downward.
  
Above, Avrieth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Above, Tisiath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Above, Taralyth sees them all down, and veers on after.

Taralyth backwings for a landing.

Fehuth backwings for a landing.

"We can hope." Kassi hesitates. The realist, the Wingleader in her has to
point out, "They didn't all make the first jump tonight... but if'n they do
get through it, if'n they do, then without Thread t'threaten we might see
'em all there on graduation day." Then Taralyth's landing, the others soon
to follow; she stands up the straighter to watch them come in.

Astride Taralyth's neck, I'sai sees the others landed, more southerly along
the bowl, and waves down. "Made it," he says briefly.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sarevith sends out warm waves of sun
across sands, gratitude.

Kassima flashes a sudden, wide smile, relief and delight in near equal
measure. "So 'twas told," as Lysseth rumbles her pleasure and her pride. A
salute later, "I'm glad of it, Weyrlingmaster."

K'ran's, again, left to shield his eyes from wings-swept dust as the
weyrling wing descends back toward the floor of the bowl. "Congratulations,
Is. They're well-taught."

Tisiath lumbers here from the south.

I'sai slides down from Taralyth's neck.

Daikoth lumbers here from the south.

Avrieth lumbers here from the south.

Emilly walks here from the south.

Sionath lumbers here from the south.

Sarevith lumbers here from the south.

Volath lumbers here from the south.

I'sai lands heavily. "Thanks," he says, trading salute to salute. "Now
we're going to go on in. Afternoon, all."

Bronwynn slides to the ground, giving Fehuth a loving pat.

M'tri slides off Daikoth and jumps to the ground, gently caressing an
eyeridge as a thank-you.

T'bay slides down from Sarevith.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth sends on a narrower band than all
that earlier green, << Mine would have yours know that if he wishes
anything to drink, >> the underlying thought beneath shining crystal being
that successful or no, the first *between* is a tense endeavor, << he's
welcome to whatever she might supply; but it went so very well. >> Her
approval is as bright and clear as her rider's. << She has news for him
besides, of Skyfire--but that's for another night, >> and purely Lysseth's
comment, no relay.

Lanisa slides down from Tisiath.

Emilly stands, running hands over Sionath's eyeridges, and looking a little
peaked around the edges. Sionath however is crooning now.

Daikoth lands neatly at this point; by no means perfect but very neat with
minimal bouncing that is easily disregarded. Not even a stagger after all
that. Nevertheless, his rider is shaking like a leave on his neck, and more
tranquil crooning is in order before M'tri can even lift his hands and stop
shaking long enough to undo his buckles. When they are unfastened, the boy
doesn't move right off. He sits there, slouched back against a neckridge,
his head tilted back and eyes closed while he breathes and controls his
adrenaline. Daikoth is patient, too, waiting for his boy to be ready. And
when he is, Daikoth lowers and watches with cautious eyes while M'tri
slides off, lands unsteadily, and then takes to leaning against the chisled
head. He straightens only long enough to give his own return salute, and
then it's back to that undignified clinging with his infinately patient blue.

>From Avrieth's neck, Claret crouches over so that she's supported by
Avrieth's raised neck, gaining her composure for a moment before she tries
sliding to the ground. Yet again taking deep breaths, she steadies herself
before taking hold of the straps and sliding down.

Claret slithers down from her perch on Avrieth's neck.

Bronwynn walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Fehuth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Emilly takes a deep breath and then moves away from Sionath to approach
M'tri, murmuring quietly to him as she draws near.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth sends quick acknowledgement, a gleam
of blue, quick assent. << I shall tell him. >> Though perhaps not about
-his- wing, just yet.

Emilly mutters to M'tri, "... right... it..."

"G'dafternoon," Kassi bids him, nodding her understanding--and as he
passes, "Congratulations." Then there are Weyrlings, Weyrlings to grin at,
so clearly pleased it's a wonder she doesn't burst with it. Formality?
What's that?

Volath's landing further south and subsequent stroll north allow his rider
time enough to regain his composure, not to mention enough control of the
stress-stiff muscles in his back and shoulders to force himself out of the
straps and down off of the dragonet's neck. "T'bay," he says as soon as
feet hit his lifemate's forelimb, then once he's on the ground, "That was -
wild!" Leaving room, with a shaky and wan grin, for the suggestion it could
have been intentional (!). Cued by late realization of Kassima's
characteristic voice, he turns a slow and uncertain three-sixty in place,
saluting at proper intervals as he goes.

V'lano slides down from Volath.

I'sai eases inside - but then, after all, re-emerges some minutes later;
when he does so, it's with a platter of thimble-sized glasses, some sort of
liquor gleaming darkly potent within. "Enough to celebrate," he mentions.
Nowhere near enough to get drunk, even with this. He starts making the
rounds for whoever wants some, though soon enough he'll return inside.

Lanisa slides down from Tisiath and looks about for the others, how they
are. She starts for M'tri and stops cold as Emilly goes there first, and
then turns back to her blue -- To give him a scritch as if that's what she
was planning to do all along.

T'bay's efforts to dismount are perhaps a touch too rapid, as his knees
crumble before him and he spends a moment near-seated on the ground before
he rises. Sarevith takes that moment to nudge him, just to be sure he's
still there, hasn't been lost, whuffly noises ensue. Once he's back on his
feet, T'bay is quick to offer praise to the rearrived weyrlings, pleased
that nothing more worrisome befell them, though his voice trembles in a
hollow vibrato, "Wel--er, hm. Well done, group," he manages, saluting his
betters. Toward Claret, he offers a smile and a mouthed, 'sorry,' followed
by a thumbs up of encouragement. Sarevith echoes the sound to Avrieth while
T'bay raises a hand to I'sai's offer, "Please, sir, if we may," then steps
toward Claret and V'lano. "Wild is not the half of it. Ground. Ground good.
Oh, did we misjudge. Claret, you all right?"

M'tri pulls away from Daikoth, frowning thoughtfully as he leans in to
answer, making very sure there are no peers within the area that can hear
him. He mutters to Emilly, "... so.... was--I can't... get... was,
though.... to... say... my..." 

Emilly nods at M'tri's murmured response and reaches over to squeeze his
shoulder lightly, before dropping her hand to her side again, still
speaking in an undertone to the weyrling.

Claret leans against Avrieth, orienting herself to the safe, hard feeling
of the ground below her before. Sending Kassima a wan smile for her
congratulations, Claret's gaze quickly travels to T'bay and she edges a bit
further down the length of Avrieth so that she's closer to T'bay and
V'lano. Summoning a faint grin, she nods. "I'm all right. You must have
just had the worst scare of it all, and I'm dreadfully sorry. I hope that
doesn't happen a lot, I might simply expire from fright. But you're fine?"
she asks, before tilting her chin toward V'lano. "And you look like you're
just fine, too."

Emilly mutters to M'tri, "... Between is... you pictured and everything
that... that,... It's... enough in some... get any... Though it... more..."

Kassima is only too pleased for once to return all salutes sharply, calling
out, "You did so well--!" And if she turns her beaming on both her mentees
in particular, she certainly has plenty of smiles to go around for everyone
else. Even *before* the liquor arrives. "How magnificently useful," she
says with feeling, though she has the manners not to take one when there
are Weyrlings yet to claim theirs. The delight does falter a trace when she
seeks out T'bay with her eyes, concern replacing it.

K'ran echoes Kassima as the weyrlings dismount. "Congratulations, you all,"
he says, pleasantly. "Excellent job. Excellent, excellent."

"You made it," I'sai repeats, handing T'bay that tiny glass, letting Claret
and anyone else around take some as well; even the observers can get their
share if they choose, the liquor rich and fiery. Plenty of glasses. He even
offers one to Lanisa, with her keeping from the other two.

"We were only a little bit off. Gave Volath more of a startle than me,"
V'lano replies to Claret, easing a bit at T'bay's display of coping through
humor. "We're both glad to see you - all you - " Nodding his head at
Sarevith and Avrieth to include them - "We're glad," he finalizes, no words
adequate. His color darkens a bit as the glasses come by, but that doesn't
stop him reaching out for one, hand shaky but quick not to lose the chance.
"Something to steady us, huh?" The drink is lifted, then, for his fellows'
approval and join-in.

T'bay nods, solemnly. "I think we know just what we did coming out of it
that set us up in the wrong spot. Which is good, for as frighted as I am,
it's tempting to not want to do that ever again. At least if we know," he
dips his head, we can try to fix it, and it might not be so scary next
time." He smiles toward his comerades, then gratefully accepts the
thimbleful of distraction and celebration. As reassurance, he comments, a
trace of his humor returning despite his ashen complexion, "Sorry,
Wingleader. I didn't find the trousseau, though we tried to look twice."
After a wink, his raised hand joins Vel's. "To Icemelt, dragonkind, our
Weyrlingmaster and staff, successful trips between, and not crashing!"

Lanisa almost looks ready to refuse the drink, but then with another glance
at M'tri and back to I'sai, she takes it and downs it quick. Coughing a
little as it slides down, as one not used to it might. Then as she returns
the glass, she adds her own brief comment, pitched low and with a slight
grin. She mutters to I'sai.  Never mind if it's obvious or the rest.

Claret takes a glass without hesitation, nodding emphatically, though in
agreement to what is anyone's guess. Stretching her lips into an
increasingly relaxed, if tense smile, she observes, "I'm all for avoiding
such incidents in the future. I suppose we shall be able to work better to
keep it from happening, anyway." Raising her glass in an echo of T'bay's
and V'lano's gesture, Claret doesn't hold it for long, instead downing it
quickly with a little splutter.

Kassima may not need the alcohol so much as they, but she's glad to claim
it once it's clear she'll be depriving no one else of their share--claim it
and put it to good use, lifting it gladly to the Weyrling Wingleader's
toast. "You'll have more chances," she assures T'bay with a startled laugh
for the unexpected jest, a warm and reassuring grin to follow. "Rest
assured that I certes appreciate your devotion to the quest, but such
measures really aren't necessary." In more of an undertone she offers,
"If'n you feel the need t'talk about it--" But lets the thought trail off
there, instead echoing his toast: "To Icemelt!"

M'tri straightens himself up a bit, still a bit shaken, frowning. He
murmurs something more to Emilly before siezing a bit of I'sai's offering
himself, pleased to note that most of his shaking has abated. He chuckles
at that last bit, edging 'round back to Daikoth in his attempt to avoid
looking like he's as shaken up. "And you," he informs Daikoth as he leans
back against him, "You make too detailed images." Daikoth just huffs
affectionately while M'tri raises his glass and then knocks back the entire
thing, not coughing or sputtering, just making a small throat-clearing
sound as he gets reaccustomed.

Emilly nods at M'tri's words and claims one of those tiny glasses when the
tray passes, and lifts it to join the toast. "Hear, hear," she echoes and
drains the glass in one go. Embarrassingly enough she starts coughing
immediately. "Shells Is ... what is that stuff?" she exclaims, eyeing the
glass with some suspicion.

"Yeah," I'sai agrees with the strawberry-haired bluerider, and then after a
moment he smiles at her. "Yeah. Better've." He, too, toasts to the wing and
all, and then waits long enough for everyone to have their share. "Secret,
Em. Maybe I'll tell you later." A quick nod around - a brief smile - and he
heads into the barracks.

I'sai walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

"And to the still-missing trousseau!" V'lano's addition, echoing T'bay's
remark with hearty laughter threatened in his tone, is intended loud enough
for the other weyrlings to hear, and therefore quite loud enough for
everyone else present as well. He offers clinks of glass on glass to anyone
taking, then swallows the treat-portion of alcohol. Volath, already
strolling homeward with enormous draconic yawning underway, is soon
followed by a slightly more relaxed, slightly more merry V'lano.

Emilly rolls her eyes skyward and mutters something that sounds
suspiciously like "Typical" then she's stepping back Sionath's way and
stripping straps off the green, still shaking her head and muttering to
herself.

M'tri that elicits a cough from M'tri. The bluerider narrows his eyes at
the pair shortly, frowning and saying, "It's not missing, I misplaced it."

Taralyth leaps up, all at once, arrowing for his ledge.

Taralyth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him
aloft.

Lanisa smiles a bit more as she watches I'sai head off and then she rests
her forehead against her blue's lowered head, to say softly, "We did it,
Tisi. We really did."

Volath enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

V'lano walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

"There's a story behind that, if'n I don't miss the guess," Kassi comments
to M'tri in an aside, looking at the pair keenly for a moment despite the
amusement in her words. She tosses back the contents of her glass with the
lack of sputtering befitting a practiced lush. "--I vote," she says
afterwards, eyeing the emptied glass with new respect, "that we pin him
down someday and make him tell us, Em. Hah! Always to the trousseau,
V'lano. G'night, g'night, and may you dream of its mystical gloriousness."

K'ran demurs on the offered drink, himself: "I ought to be heading home,"
he says. "Hey, T'bay -- send your Wingsecond my way, will you? Not Roberta,
the other one. When you see him next." And then, then he's heading back
toward the southern end of the bowl.

K'ran walks south.

T'bay clinks Vel's glass cheerily, then downs the tiny cupful, then coughs,
then ahhhs loudly. "That'll help settle the nerves all right, burns like
firestone?" A laugh, which seems to relax him even further, and a shared
nod of certainty with Claret, though he does match eyes with Kassima for
just a moment, indicating his appreciation of her offer of discussion
later. "We're off for a cleanup, methinks. Got a little scent of fear on
us, we have. Once again, whew! Great job." For M'tri, "Missing, or lost.
We're on the job! Only, after some rest." To the Weyrleader, T'bay nods,
salutes, grins. "Aye, sir. Will do."

Claret stands a bit more solidly after the tiny portion of alcohol, but all
the same, her face is still pale and her posture a bit shaky. "I'll rest,"
she mutters under her breath, glancing back at Avrieth. "We'll rest," she
corrects, moving off toward the barracks, Avrieth at her side. Lifting a
hand, she gives a weak salute to those remaining.

Claret walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Avrieth enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Emilly looks up as Taralyth takes wing then looks over her shoulder,
grinning at Kassi. "Sounds like a plan Kassi," she winks and slings straps
over her arm. "Good night ... good night," she wishes to the weyrlings
heading for the Barracks.

"If'n you're all very good," Kassi suggests to the Weyrlings in mischief,
"then mayhaps Is could be bribed t'bring larger quantities t'graduation, so
you can display that you can breathe fire just as well as your lifemates
do. Really, remarkable stuff." Her eyes acknowledge T'bay's appreciation,
as does her fleeting small smile, and shenods assent to this. "Wouldn't
want the greenriders hereabouts t'smell fear on you," she deadpans. "That
could be lethal. G'night--" she calls after Claret, too late. "Shells.
G'night all of you, why don't I just say, a'fore I miss again."

Feigning indignance, Trii looks sharply at T'bay. "I don't need help
finding my trousseu, I'll have you know," he says, managing a couple
hip-swishes for good show as he agrees with Daikoth, "Yes...we'll go back."
Lifting a hand in a wave, and tipping a nod specifically to Lani, Trii
sighs and turns with his dragon to head inside as well.

Sarevith leads the shaky-legged duo, the dragon eager for a bit of rest in
familiar sleeping space. T'bay waves to the remaining, salutes where it
might be wise, grins weakly toward Emilly, "Goodnight, ma'am. Thank you for
your guidance, and Sionath's." T'bay's spirits are somewhat cheered by the
return of M'tri's hip-swishing antics, and he relaxes a grin. "Especially
not when fear smells like my dank sweat. Ee-ew. But I suppose I'll have to
stop digging around in M'tri's...ah, trousseau. On that note--night."

Sarevith enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

T'bay walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

"I don't want t'know what else of M'tri's he might have been digging around
in," Kassi feels obliged to note once T'bay's made his exit.

Lanisa glances up to smile at M'tri's jest, hip-swishes and more for the
nod too, nodding back. And then it's a giggle as T'bay heads off, before
she grins at Kassi. "Neither do I."

Emilly smiles at T'bay as he passes and waves at other departing backs then
she turns her steps away as well, but toward the lake.

Emilly heads in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central
bowl area of the Weyr.

Kassima wiggles her fingers after Emilly, though that gesture too is
belated. "Off t'seek her own peace," she supposes, speaking as much to
herself as Lanisa. "--Well. Clearly you and Tisiath did all right; you're
*here*, but how'd it go?"

Sionath lumbers in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the
central bowl area of the Weyr.

Lanisa only glances after Emilly before turning her attention to Kassi. "He
tried to put too much in the image, and Taralyth had to cut it back some.
Too many details. Then we were a little off the mark up there. Like a
dragon's length off. So, you know. Not bad..." But not perfect?

"Right," says Kassi, nodding at once. "Too many details and you risk going
*between* times. You want more... the general look, feel, sense of a place;
you probably gathered as much. For what 'tis worth, I'd have been fair
surprised if'n you'd managed t'make the jump in perfect formation. That all
of you who made the jump this time *survived* is wonderful. Nay the most
reassuring thought perhaps, but there 'tis."

Lanisa nods slowly, "I know. I mean. I know we were fortunate. T'bay.. Well
those two scared me a bit for a minute there. But I'm happy enough with the
fact we did it to not worry about perfect just yet." She tips her head
towards the blue, "He's already planning the next trip anyway"

Kassima delicately prompts, "We couldn't really see *what* happened t'him,
below.... Aye. With the first jump made and successfully, you'll probably
do well enough, next trip and next, though a'course you must always be
cautious. Faranth knows they'll drill caution into your head as hard as
they can."

"They came out really close to another. Avrieth I think it was. That part
was so fast, and then they were gone again. It took a while, seemed like
too long for them to come back after that." Lani says softly, "Tisiath
wasn't too worried, but for a moment I thought." She pauses there, glancing
off at the barracks and then back, "They're fine though. We all are. And
aye. We'll be even more careful next time."

Kassima nods slowly, taking this in. "Lyss said there was something about
Tear throwing out a line t'him. Mayhaps he didn't have his visual, that
second jump. If'n he didn't--bloody, *bloody* good thing Tear could reach
him." Her shudder is not feigned. "If'n he'd died, if'n he had, Tisiath
would know fairly quick. Fairly. So 'twasn't too concerned that he'd died,
below; but something was clearly wrong." It seems a good time for a change
of topic. "Now that you can jump *between*, you may be able t'visit places
outside the Weyr soon. Anywhere you're particularly wanting t'go?"

Lanisa nods slowly, "Well, we made it. That's what counts, right? Even if
it took a little luck in with the rest." She considers the question then
and shakes her head. "Not really. Not yet. Weaver at some point maybe. Some
where warm to sit on a beach. But other than that? No. Not anyplace specific."

"It is," Kassima agrees. "So long as 'tisn't luck *next* time, or you don't
come t'depend on luck. Only now I'm getting lecture-y, so never mind. Is it
you who wants a beach, or him?" she asks, tipping her head towards Tisiath.
"And have you seen F'hlan since your Impression? You might visit Benden
if'n nay, if'n you want a suggestion. A'course, I'd suggest everyone visit
Benden *anyway*. But I'm sure he'd be pleased, and a'course most of his
other children are there... shells, I don't even know for sure, d'you have
any contact with 'em?"

"No. Better skill than luck." Lani agrees. Then she pauses and shakes her
head, "Grandda? No. I've not seen him lately. Not since then. Ma went to
tell him, but I've not seen him myself. Then she shake her head, "I see far
more of Da's side than Ma's."

Kassima mutters, "The dread Grandmum Saiya," and makes an amused face.
"Kiss and Kai--and I, by default--see plenty of her too. They're good
people; I'm biased towards saying that, a'course. K'star's m'cousin, did
you know? 'Lani's--Mehlani's--weyrmate? And F'hlan was m'first Wingsecond,
besides being Thunderbolt's original founder. So I'd almost have t'be fond
of the family. Nay your Grandmum Ryi either?" She pauses a beat. "If'n
you'd rather I nay speak of such things, just say so. I don't want t'get
all fluttery or cheek-pinching or busy-bodied on you."

Lanisa shakes her head, "I don't mind this sort of thing. It's hearing
about me in a pink dress at three when I hardly had a say in the matter..."
She gives a wink and then shakes her head, "Used to see a lot more of
grandma Ryi when I was younger. Just not as much later on. She's been to
see me though, and Tisi." Then lifting a brow, "K'star is? I don't think
I'd realized that."

Kassima rolls her eyes skyward. "Shells, nay. If'n you *want* such
recollections, you're always welcome t'ask, but t'be honest methinks m'mind
tends t'blot people in pink dresses out of memory." She crinkles her nose
and grins at the bluerider, returning that wink. "Here's hoping 'tis the
best of things that keep Ryi busy. She deserves 'em. He is; I introduced
'em, after a fashion. He and his brother E'rian, who still rides here on
green Milleniuth, are m'father's sister's children. Lyss went and Searched
'em both for the last Benden clutch a'fore the move. They both romanced
Mehlani for a time; so did Jorenan, Ofira's husband now, which made for a
lot of interesting gossip. She and K'star eventually moved t'Benden, which
is where she Impressed her Marioth a'course."

Lanisa shudders, even if partly in jest, "No. I tend to try and forget such
things too. To the point I refuse to ask if I was ever really in one." She
listens to the rest, nodding along and looking all the world as if filing
it away. "So we are sort of related, even if distantly, besides through my
sibs of course." As an after thought, "Yeah. I think Gran just keeps busy.
She goes to see Ysaira and the like a lot."

"Aye, though methinks daughter's sister is probably the closer bond than
cousin's weyrmate's niece," Kassi quips, and she has to laugh. "I love Weyr
trees. They're *nuts*. For what 'tis worth, Lanryi has never struck me as
the frills-and-lace sort of lady, so I do doubt it. I should ask Ryi
someday whatever became of Rylan. I haven't seen him in Turns."

"Well yes. But it's still neat to know." Lani grins "Aye. They are great
fun, especially for confusing the slow witted." And Lani'd -never- do that,
would she? Much? "Yeah, I think that one assistant confuses some of us
sometimes. But I guess, that's easy to do." She considers the other. "Not
seen him much either myself. Not recently, like for a couple turns at least."

Kassima nods her agreement and understanding. "Now and then m'crew takes an
interest in the sides of their families that they don't know so well. I'm
glad t'help out when I can, but the sad thing is that for most of 'em, I
don't know that much either. I know more about your kin than their fathers'
as a rule. Lyss Searched Mehlani, even, though she didn't Impress on these
Sands." She shakes her head quickly. "This is threatening t'become
nostalgia. Wonder if'n that Assistant ever gets confused enough t'tell one
of the lads he used t'run about in a pink lace dress... well, more recently
than I have, then. Did he ever tell you that he used t'have a crush on
Ofira too? Shells, 'tis like people in your family or connected to 'em are
destined t'be or want t'be involved with Ofira."

Lanisa blinks and waves a hand, setting aside the rest after a laugh about
the assistant. A lopsided grin in place she asks, "Wait. Who else had a
crush on Ofira? Da you mean?"

"Nay, nay," says Kassi with a vehement headshake; the idea gets a laugh, in
fact. "Nay as far as I know! Though 'tis possible, come t'think on it. Nay,
I meant Jorenan, Mehlani's beau who eventually married Ofira. But Is *was*
at her bachelorette party."

[Editor's Note:  Lanisa's 'Net cacked out at this point, 
so the scene ends. :) ]