Staging a Race

Monaco Bay Weyr - Weyrling Beach
The mouth of the paradise river is broad, the water sluggish, as it finally reaches the sea. Though the far shore is relatively wild, with trees marching nearly up to the sandy banks, the near shore has been cleared and tamed. Stands of rushes dot the bank, intersped with low shrubs and dune-crawlers. The bank itself is gently sloped, with a well-lit stone path running the length between the lazy river and the great stone dome of the Weyr's caverns. There are several places where the bank has been scooped away altogether, presumably by draconic means given the regular shapes, to form shallow pools of warm, brackish water. One of these, nearest the exit from the weyrling barracks, has been roped off for use solely by young dragons and their new riders. There's even a lifeguard stand built up to allow a weyrlingmaster to keep a careful eye on the draconic playground, and a mesh net erected across the mouth of the pool's inlet to keep most things from being accidentally swept out to sea.


Morning lessons are over and the weyrlings have been fed and oiled. It's a hot afternoon on the beaches but that hasn't stopped Kith from taking her usual afternoon nap when the heat gets to be too much, as it normally would. She's excited, in fact, for what appears to be a favourite pasttime: racing! Granted that very few dragons can lumber along with much grace on the ground, but as the weyrlings are yet to be skybound, it's a compromise. The pale, jade-coloured green bugles out her announcement to all weyrlings who might want to rise to the challenge, standing upon the warm sands with wings arched out in a display of magnificence. « Who wants to have a race against me? It'll be lots of fun and good practice for everyone! » Her mindvoice is bright and cheerful, yet toned with the clear innocence of a youngling who just wants to play.

Somnolent with sun and sea, her rider having quickly retreated from the beach after laboriously coating the young gold in oil, Szetamirath lifts her head at Kith's request, blinking faceted eyes towards the green. « But if I race you, » she points out delicately, clearly loathe to disappoint her esteemed teacher, « I'll ruin my oiling. » She lifts one oversized wing, stretching it out to admire the play of sunlight along the rich butter-yellow hide. « Although, » she muses, tilting her wing this way and that, admiring the glint of light along her spars, « there is something to be said for a bit of exercise to run off that meal. Can't go getting chubby, after all. » A brief pause, then, hurriedly, « Not that there's anything wrong with chubby. Mine looks amazing. I'm just… not suited to it. You understand. »

Kith is past the age of worrying about how she looks as long as she's happy! Not that she's been that much of the eating type anyway. Usually it's other dragons offering her food instead! The green seems like she could care less for the fresh coat of oil either, crooning out to the sweet little gold who seems so set upon her appearance. « You can oil again later! You look pretty but imagine how pretty you'll look when you run! You can be the stars and I can be the moon and we can see which is best! » The logic is never always clear behind Kith's words, but the jumble of imagery showing a pale moon in a night sky and the bright glow of a shining star is visible as Kith tries to encourage her ward. « When you start to hunt for yourself then you'll be faster than everyone else too! » Yet further reasoning, but at this point the green is just trying to find any old reason to make Szetamirath join her.

The Star? Well, naturally. Szetamirath is always the star. And, after all, « It is true. I hear that that, » and the gold lifts her chin, nudging her nose skywards in the general direction of the afternoon sun, « is also a star, if not quite as fabulous as I am. And it does, somewhat, resemble me. » Her ego knows no bounds. With a drawn-out sigh, the weyrling lumbers to her feet, shuffling along the sand to where Kith stands. Clearly, she is agreeing to this only to humor her honored mentor, and not from any true desire to race. Still - she's willing, if less than eager, and tucks her overly-long wings to her back, scratching idly at the sandy turf. « What is involved in this… race? »

Hurray! Someone wants to race! If Kith had any excitement left in her, it's almost impossible to hide as the green practically bouncing on the spot like an overexcited infant about to get a new toy. Eyes whirling a rapid shade of blue, the sheer volume of the green's enthusiasm is noted by her rider whom, after a quick check and a warning, deems it safe to allow the exercise to proceed. With nothing restricting her now, Kith lowers her wings into a semi-folded position and begins to examine the length of beach provided to the weyrlings. It's easily a few dragonlengths long if you measure by the average gold's size, and perfect for a smaller gold to run on. « We can go from here to the far side? Mine will be angry if I make you run too far. » Kith motions with her snout to the end of the weyrling beach where rocks seperate it from the rest of the main weyr's beaches. « Is that okay? »

« It's your idea, » Szetamirath allows magnanimously, acceeding to the restrictions gracefully. Bending her head to nose at the sand, she snorts up a cloud and shakes her head, blinking her eyes several times to clear them of the dust. « So here to there, » and she peers towards the edge of the weyrling beach, « and back again? » The gold lifts one paw, then lays it back down again, sighing up a second cloud. « Alright, then. » In the background depths of their joined minds, a swell of music rises, the kind of stirring ballad frequently used by harpers to get the audience in the mood for action. Someone's trying to psych herself up, and as the gold paws again at the sands and echoes Kith's stance, it seems it's working.

Unlike the goldling's mind where music and melody plays, it's the growing cacophony of running water that comes from Kith's side of things. That glowing moonlight is exceeded only by the waterfall located deep within the rock pool of Kith's mind, which has rose from a bubbling stream to a near thunderous roar of crashing water and steam. With agreement made, Kith lowers her snout and draws a line in the sand with her nose, briefly snorting out the residue leftover afterwards. Here is where they'll start! « Get ready! » She croons, lining herself up alongside the young dragon. The green crouches, and waits for Szetamirath to confirm she's ready before she start a countdown.

Szetamirath heaves another sigh, creating another cloud of dust, but obediently crouches, tail lashing against the beach behind her. Ignoring the muttered complaints from two of her siblings impacted by the unexpected sandstorm, the gold eyes the finish yearningly and confirms her readiness with a simple, « On you, teacher. »

Kith is sweeping her tail eagerly back and forth, twitching like a feline ready to pounce! With Szetamirath set to run as well, Kith doesn't hesitate in her countdown, each number barely containing her excitement. « Three! Two! One! .. Go! » And they're off! Kith bounding forwards with one big stride and a bellowing roar in both voice and mind which would wake any poor sleeping weyrling. Her wings are semi-unfurled as if she's about to practically leap and soar towards the rocks, but rules are rules and if she wants to be a winner she has to abide by them! The first several metres are covered in moments by the green's lumbering gait, but it's clear that as she runs she's not going at full speed - to perhaps give the gold a bit more of a fair chance.

Even were she giving it her all, Szetamirath would likely need that handicap. As it is, the gold's lumbering gait has her several meters behind the green and steadily losing ground. Although she had entertained the concept of the race merely to indulge a favored teacher, as Kith's hindquarters fill her line of sight, her rather well-honed competetive instincts kick in. « Hey! You can't be faster than me, » she protests, wings half-furled against her back as she lengthens her stride, sand spraying behind her as she awkwardly runs along the beach. « I'm the girl! I'm supposed to win! » That's… an interesting way to look at it. And - wait, isn't Kith…?

Kith is a good teacher like that! If you make a competition fun -and- challenging, then folks will rise to the occasion! In this case, Kith is doing her best to maintain a speed which Szetamirath can easily keep pace with, which proves difficult for the larger dragon without coming across as just outright walking. After all, she's still the bigger one here! It doesn't take long for the pair to reach the rocks bordering the beach, but this is where the competition would -truly- kick in, for as they finally draw level, Kith makes her about turn to run the returning length of the beach and issues a bugle. « You won't win! You can't beat me! » It's all a playful tone and Kith would be laughing if dragons could, as she playfully taunts her student and begins to trot back.

There is no grace in Szetamirath's lunging, awkward run, and even less as she reaches the turn-around point and skids nose-first within centimeters of the rocky barrier. As Kith makes her return down the beach, the gold drags herself out of the sand, sneezing continuously, and wails piteously to all near and far, « It's not faaaaaair! I was had! It was a hack job! A hack job! » The deafening sobs of strings accompany her piteous cries as she lumbers in a circle, limping in the green's wake. « It's the sand! I couldn't get a grip! The air, it is too moist! The sun was in my eyes! » Indeed, it's everyone's fault but her own - or, to be fair, Kith's. She's not so far gone as to accuse the green of cheating - or worse, sabotage! No - clearly, the envrionment was out to get her.

Kith is such a heartbleed for the younglings that before she's even a quarter of the way back to the finish line she hears Szetamirath's wails, her eyes rapidly flashing to a panicked state as she fears upsetting the gold is her own fault. Time for dramatic circumstances! To give the young queen the ultimate advantage Kith puts on her best act of tripping, feigning tripping over her own feet and wings and she goes tumbling down into the sand with a thunderous crash. « Ow! Oh no! I fell! » Kith tries to abruptly interrupt Szetamirath's wails with her own facade. « I'm never going to reach the finishing line now! »

Astonished - perhaps by Kith's sudden clumsiness, perhaps by the appearance of a ham as big as she - Szetamirath skids to a limping halt at the green's side, hesitantly nosing out at her. Abruptly, she tries to shove herself under the other dragon's wing, her mind steeling with resolve as the basso voice of drums thud through her words. « No! We must press onward! I will not leave you, my stalwart friend. Lean upon me, and we will take this race together! » It's even-odds as to whether she's been taken in by the Weyrlingmaster's acting or she's simply carrying on the improv as she feels it should be played out.

Alas, no! Kith doesn't want to be -that- much of a burden to the gold (being heavier and all) and so when Szetamirath comes dashing to her side, the green keeps up the act of -just- being able to make it to her feet. « We must! If we can do it together then nothing can stop us! » Now it's a lesson in teamwork, apparently! And so, with a fake limp to accompany her movements, Kith lets the gold assume she's carrying the weight as they start to hobble towards the finishing line. « If I don't make it.. » Kith's mindvoice goes faint, clearly still part of her put-on display. She's making this a little -too- dramatic, but it's so much fun letting the gold's leadership qualities shine this way!

« Never fear! We shall make it together if I needs must carry you upon my back! » Someday, Szetamirath will actually be large enough to do so. That day is not today. However, with Kith taking most of the weight off of the little queen, she has no idea that she's not properly carrying her burden. Puffed up with pride - it's not every day a weyrling saves the life (and it should be interesting to see how much this gets blown up by the end of the day) of one of the weyrlingmasters! - the dragonling keeps even pace with the green as they approach the finish line. As they near the gouge in the sand left by the green, Szeta crawls out from under Kith's wing, turning one bright, whirling eye on her teacher. « Psst, » she says in a -very- loud whisper, « You should tone down a little on the melodramatics. You're really doing good though. A promising start. Keep it up! » And with the laughter of woodwinds ringing in Kith's mind, she plunges ahead and over the finish line.

Kith very much dreads the day when her little gold friend outgrows her! At this young age they're so much more playful! Kith is probably the most transparent of any actor though, simply because as they near the finishing line together, the soft humming noise coming from Kith probably indicates just how much pride she has for her little ward. Szetamirath might as just well be Kith's -own- hatchling! Then of course, it all goes topsy turvy with the little gold's final tricks as she's abandoned metres from the finish line and left to watch as the spritely young queen dashes over the line for herself. Still, there's no annoyance at the scheming trick, but ever-still the same pride and even a laugh of her own mindvoice, although it comes more as a more human-sounding alto that rings over the sound of running water. « Well done! You win! » Kith announces, abandoning her act and stepping over the line to join. « You were very fast and you looked very heroic when you helped me! » Such genuine flattery!

Preening before the praise, Szetamirath coyly tilts her head to the side and gazes at Kith with sparkling blue eyes. « I'm sooo glad I could help you, » she coos - although it's not entirely certain that she and Kith mean quite the same kind of help. Lowering her head, she scrubs first one cheek, than the other in the sand, burnishing the smooth amber tear-lines that trace across her muzzle to a soft glow. « You were stellar out there, truly you were, » she continues, willing to be effusive in her own praise, given that she's won the race and the day. « Everyone mis-steps now and then - we simply must take it in stride. » Or cheat your way out of trouble. That works too, in Szeta's book.

Inflating egos is what Kith is born to do when it comes to those young dragons! How else are they going to fly without the right encouragement? For all of Szetamirath's preening and cooing though, any ill-intent or sarcasm is simply thrown over Kith's head. She's genuinely proud of her little gold student! « You helped me! That's what being part of a Wing is about too. When another member of your wing falls, you have to help pick them up and carry them! » Figurately of course. « The same will happen when you're a leader too! You have to support them just like you helped me! » A croon follows as Kith, now content to let the lesson end there, settles down on the beaches again. There's enough time for an afternoon nap now, and she intends to catch up on it. With a gentle yawn, the soft whirling eyes settle into a content and happy blue shade as Kith curls up, leaving a space in the arch of her wing for any weyrling to occupy. « Nap time now. » She croons, letting her eyes close and allowing herself to drift off to sleep with or without company. The explanation to her rider can wait until later!

« … Night… » Szetamirath sounds a bit uncertain, as though not quite sure if she's been had or not. The attempt to process the lesson on the green's terms rather than her own - combined with the rush and exertion of the race - causes the young gold to yawn broadly. Still mulling - broodingly so - she drags herself to her favored nest by the water and lays down, watching the waves lap at the shore and allowing the soft rush of the bay to lull her to sleep.


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