Eastern Weyr - Paradise River 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.
No better time to be at the water, where the curve of the sea meets the mouth of Paradise River, sandy shore and gnarled trees, sunset is approaching. The turn of the season does bring a slight wind, with cold undertones on a cloudless day. Vibrant swathes of orange, pink and yellow illuminate the sky and somewhere in the dusky mist of the jungle leading towards the water Mahlia and Seracenath stalk. They travel, silent beams of light, clad in browns and greens, blending well. Leather boots tip-toe quietly behind slithering hatchling, who's night veiled form crouches low, stepping slowly, on the hunt or maybe just pretending they are. Mahl has tightly strung bow in her hand, a few quivers at her hip and is ever vigilant as they share images and thoughts of surroundings, plans of attack, picking your battles. They're not by any means perfect at this yet, a few twigs snapping here and there, a tree brushed against *theoretical orange sign:In Training*
Mahlia and her gallant green are not the only ones who prowl in the darkness; though the others that are out here are on a very different game. S'rok is just out to get some air; working on his nightly jog. He's got something on his mind at the moment and he is really putting it to himself — he's managed to go for a goodly longer time than he is used to and his calves and thighs are burning with the effort of it; chest not heaving but breathing laboured. His eyes are closed as he savors the 'good' pain of being well exercized and he isn't completely paying attention to where he is going. His footfalls will be heard, but probably a little too late as he rounds the corner about five feet in front of Mahlia — on a direct collision course at a full jog. He has time to make a yelp sound.
Mahlia is stunned at the sight, the chaotic panic shared between the lifemates, confused at this newly acquired acquaintance's random appearance at that very moment. It is just when they pounce out of their hiding spot, on to the beach, when the bronzerider just so happens to be jogging there. As fate would have it, Seracenath has made it out a few steps, that long tail that was appreciated yesterday trailing behind, at perfect ankle height, and of course with Mahlia following behind on the other side. She had just planted feet firmly after jumping over a tall log and on to the sand, realizing at this moment they have a lot of training to do if they missed the THUD THUD THUD of the tail end of a job. Labored breathing, sweaty, running, exercising and yelping, this causes her to squeal as they *kersmack* in to each other, and no matter how firmly those feet were planted, when the runner meets tail, and likely trips, the Weyrling will surely fall to the ground.
THUD THUD THUD THUD *BLAMMO*
That is what S'rok sees and hears. Then life is a complete blur as Mahlia goes down and he goes down with her; thudding into the ground with a smack. It is only by some base reflex that he manages to catch himself on both his hands on the ground on either side of her shoulders, though his head does make a pretty violent impact with the sand. Dripping said sand out of his hair and off of his forehead, stunned for the moment. It takes about fifteen, twenty seconds for him to recover as he slowly begins to dawn where he is. He opens one eye, shaking his head to clear it and spraying sand everywhere. The other eye opens. He looks down at.. Mahlia. "GAH!" He says; throwing himself upwards and rolling sideways onto his back. He's still not quite ready to get up though; waiting for the world to stop spinning. "Ouch." He offers. "Are, uh. Hey, ow. Uh. Well." When he's not snarking at her, or doesn't have a boat to talk about, communication really is kind of hard. "… are you still in one piece?"
Mahlia is crashed in to, slender frame easily knocked off balance from S'roks projectile closed eyed momentum and her post-pounce planted position. Reflexes fortunately fall with some semblance of avoiding injuries, eyes and mouth closing, hardly knowing what hit her, but glad orifices are closed for the head thump and sand storm that ensues. Seracenath grumbles and growls, already on edge from their mock hunting trip, she's quick to stand at attention as if guarding her lifemate. Pointed snout always reaches out first, heated glaze in eyes as presence, could this be an attempt at tiny hatchling scolding for closed eyed running? Whatever it is, the hatchling is not pleased, regardless of the glimmer of fond memory around this person who just tackled her Mahl. Once she catches her breath, and realizes exactly what happened, noggin shakes off dirt particles so eyes can open "What in Pern?" she says quite calmly for exactly how petrifying this is "It's ok Cenath.." she eases and the dragon pulls back from tackling him "S'rok?" she looks down at the predicament they're in and can't help but giggle a bit "Umm yeah.. m'alright.. y'just came flying outta nowhere.." she won't even ask if he was watching where he was running.
S'rok doesn't have the brains right now to worry about the green. If she is scolding him, he doesn't notice it. Instead, he's still blinking and if one looks hard enough he's got a bleeding abrasion on his forehead from the sand. It's not bad cutting or anything, just a little road rash that is letting a small trickle come out. He really did whack his head something fierce though. "Nrfb." He says to her eloquently as he stares at the sky. "Ow." He repeats; before rolling onto his side and peering at her from close range. "You're sure you're all right?" He's peering at her very quizically, still dripping sand from said abrasion. "That was really stupid of me. Wasn't really… was just thinking about something and … " His communication efforts are not going so well.
Mahlia would of course notice his abrasion the second crimson goo starts to seep through sandy sheen, her mother is after all, a healer. "Oh my.. are you alright?" That is the real question, seems the girl bounces well, but giggles are definitely stifled as it seems they didn't both get off scot-free. Jumbled words, confused hatchling and worried Mahl as he rolls to his side. Pushing herself to a seated position, their eyes meet for a moment "S'alright.." is muttered before she looks towards Cenath, summoning to approach and turn sides. A small pouch is strapped to her side, mostly dragonhealing essentials, but the basics of cleaning a wound have to be the same, right? "You've got a pretty nasty gash there.. it needs t'be cleaned out immediately and y'may even wanna see the healers if it's too deep." Jumping up she grabs a bottle of fresh water and diluted redwort, attaching a squeeze top and waiting for approval before treating "M'just gonna flush it out and give ya a lil numbweed salve for now.. if you'll let me that is?" Cordial it seems, slightly professional or something.
It's interesting. If Mahlia offered to douse S'rok in boiling oil, his reaction could not be more vehement. "NO!" He says; shrinking back. It's almost comical, given his size compared to her's. Then his eyes close as he looks to find some sort of other mental gear; to slow things down so that his brain can work appropriately. He lifts one of his hands, dabbing at the abrasion and frowning when it comes away not only bloody but still full of sand. He heaves a very long sigh. And his eyes open once for a second, then close again as he tries this communication thing once more. " … I didn't mean to . . " He stops, and then tries again. "I didn't mean to say it that way. I'm just not fond of being touched. I've . . got a personal space, you understand. You know how it is, right?" He dabs at the wound again; looking left and right with a little bit of an embarrassed expression. He even takes a second to stare at the green to make sure that she is okay as he crab-walks a few inches backwards while he watches Mahlia's face the entire time — a little rivulet of blood descending past his eyebrow. Then, he sighs and closes his eyes one more time. " … who am I kidding." He says, and shimmies a couple of feet until his back rests against a tree. "Go ahead." His eyes open, to study her face. "I've got this thing about being touched, that I need to get over, I suppose. I've been to healers before and all; but it's . . I have this personal space thing." He's repeating himself, isn't he? "Don't… usually get touched, or touch by anyone unless I'm, yanno…. /involved/ with them. But, I guess, if it's you or a healer, it doesn't make any difference so go ahead … and this way I don't have to explain the story."
Mahlia meeps, jumping back and almost dropping her belongings at the exclamation of protest, when all she's offering is some much needed help. She's puzzled, examining him with a comforting fronted interest, brows furrowing to a peak at the center. Gold glistening vermillion glimmers in her orbits and she is silent while he finds his mind and explains, a couple times. She'd stop him before he got too far politely, smiling and putting her hands up in an unassuming and non-confrontational way."It's ok, really.. it is. I completely understand.." she's simple and listens well at this moment, they're likely both a little shaken from their cosmic intersection of paths. She keeps her distance, staying calm and sending tranquility to Seracenath who is still huffing away a few steps to the side. Then his worries subside slightly for a moment and he gives her the go-ahead, dropping droplet of blood already streaking it's way downwards "I'll hardly have to touch you at all.. just close your eyes, you'll feel a cool flush of water and when it's done, one dab of numbweed and you'll be good to go." She too maybe rambles a bit, she is nervous slightly, but will respect his space.
"Now just hold still.." she says taking slow steps closer, waiting until eyes close to raise the bottle, sharing plenty of cues "Ok, now I'm gonna rinse" if he stays in place, the cool trickle of water will gently lift away all the sand particles, a slow then faster flush to make sure it's completely clean. There is enough liquid to wash it all away, revealing a wound that looks like it could leave a scar, but likely doesn't need stitches "Not too bad at all.. just gotta keep it clean. Prolly stop by the Infirmary for summore numbweed, but this should tie you over." A small salve jar is uncapped, alluringly scented numbweed and cellstimulating linament mix mixed with Inyasa during craft training earlier "Just one small dab ougghta do the trick.. ready?" She dips index finger in for a small amount, this one dot will be the only contact point, she will smile, and hope he handles it well. After this is over, she well tell him, blushing and avoiding the /involved/ comment, she in fact doesn't have much a rebuttal at all at this moment, staying very collected and respectful. The hatchling settles a bit as face becomes more recognizable not covered in sand or blood a few warbles sent as if it were an inquisition about one bronzen friend.
It takes S'rok some time to get used to this idea. For when she initially touches him, he draws back again. It's almost comical, given the differences in size between them — anyone who happened to see it would think she was threatening him with some sort of a stick or the like. He says fairly little as she actually begins the work; crossing his arms over his chest and letting her do what she needs to do. When she is mostly done, he seems to notice her blush and he raises his eyebrow at it — though he chooses not to comment. Elsewhere, Vrath responds to Seracenath with a simple sleepy sentence before drifting off again. « I am here if you need me. He will be fine, this is something he needs. » And cryptically, she will sense he drifts off again and back to somnolence.
Finally, S'rok addresses Mahlia directly. " . . I didn't realize you were a healer." Head is tilted to the side now in almost an avian fashion, questioning as he awaits her reply. All of that, her mumblings and the like and she gets one sentence in reply?
S'rok's movements does cause the first flush to travel mostly down his chest and in to his lap, but Mahl will definitely not try to assist in the cleaning of that realm. Deep focused breaths are taken as she trembles slightly, relieved that his eyes most close as the water trickles down, this way he can't see her shaking. Once all is said and done, hat question is asked and she stammers "I umm.. aspiring dragonhealer?" with much uncertainty before adding the caveat "But, umm, m'mums Master Healer of Benden Weyr so I've some experience with minor things of this nature." Unsteady ground for certain, with a gent who dislikes being touched, but at least the cleaning is already done. "So that's why it'd be wise to prolly see a /real/ healer." She's not embarassed, but is still uncontrollably pink, green eyes flcikering as they look away.
Seracenath is not quite sure how to take this, the playfulness experienced with clutchsiblings apparently bubbling over to the greenie who doesn't know how to pick up on sleepiness cues. « Me thinks need is relative yes?» is shared before a few wobbly lumbering steps are taken the bronze's way. So much for agaility training, human is distracted so it's out the window as she flops down next to Vrath, pointed snout extending from long neck towards him for a gentle but 'needy' nudge.
S'rok listens to what Mahlia says; watching her as she works. Again, the more she works the less he says — seeming to draw silence from her discomfort. He can't see it directly, but it's pretty hard to hide that sort of thing. "I see." He says to her; and again the awkwardness stretches out. Ten seconds leads through to twenty, then to fifty, then to a solid two minutes as she works with the cleaning. Little droplets trickle over his angular jaw and still nothing. Then, finally? "You'd have fooled me if you were trying. You do well." When she next looks back at him, she will find his eyes directly in her own. That is to say, that horrible thing called eye contact as he waits for her to look back at him.
Vrath is fortunatly not far off, just beyond a line of trees; lying full length in the sand to soak in some of the moonlit rays. « No, he needs this. Not relative. Sometimes is relative, but not this time. In time, you will understand. » Careful not to smush her, he offers her his tail to curl against if she so wishes. « Tell yours to try to relax. She is shaking like a leaf on the wind. »
Mahlia had looked away for a good long moment, even longer as the silent awkwardness ensues for a whole two minutes of eternity. Then, at last, he actually talking to her, and upon looking back his direction their eyes do in fact meet. The endless depths of callow jungle greens sparkle with glistening flecks of gold that wash across black rimmed irises, and as much as she's urged to look away, that gaze lingers for a few good moments, soaking up the compliment, and taking it well like any lady should. "Why thank you, m'mum would be proud t'hear y'say that." The connection breaks, as continued flush of sanguine shades nearly emanate heat from her cheeks and she moves to put away cleaning instruments in the saddlebag that was strapped to Cenath's side.
As the greenie wanders towards the bronze in the near distance, Mahl can't help but worry as the separation grows and she no longer has a distraction. They have been glued at the hips lately, but the message has been passed on that the Weyrling needs to relax more. Although still not extremely large, the hatchling has grown a significant size in the past fortnight, still nothing compared to Vrath's prominence, and tail is nuzzled up against slowly at first, then full fledged hatchling cuddle-lean, rays of emerald light shining as she warbles « I sure hope so.. I don't get all this human stuff, she is so strange some times, and ever more so around yours »
Enter T'us
It is early evening; just enough darkness to make the shadows long and force one to watch where they are going. Overhead, wispy shadows of dragons glide back and forth and the sea is invisible, though the waves can certainly be heard from some distance off. Depending on where one approaches from, one of two things will be seen first. One is an exceptionally spiky and bulky bronze and the other is a small dragonet; a hatchling from the most recent clutch who seems to be leaning against his tail with a confused expression. Where they to come from the other direction, they would find the source of the confusion. There appears to have been a bit of an accident, for S'rok is sitting with his back against a tree while Mahlia tends a nasty abrasion on his forehead that looks like it was caused by a rather nasty faceplant in the sand.
S'rok is peering at her from close range as she works and doesn't appear to be saying much at all. A moment before he had uttered one sentence, and now he utters only a single other one. "I think you would be correct to assume that. You would do her proud. Perhaps you missed your calling." There is another long pause of a minute or so. "Vrath informs me to tell you not to worry about where Seracenath has gone since you are supposed to have her within sight at all times this early in your weyrlinghood. She is with him." Meanwhile; the bronze is peering down at the far tinier hatchling. « It will make more sense in time. For now, do not concern yourself so much with it. Play. Learn. Do the things you enjoy and do not worry about what will come. What comes, comes. But you are young yet and it is the time to enjoy yourself before you need to have responsibility and work later on. »
A nervous glance from the Weyrling shoots Vrath and Seracenath's direction, to which she protests "I can see her.." or at least can feel her presence and slightly make out bronzen-green blur not too far away. All the wound flushing tools are neatly placed back in their pouch as she contends with the subject matter at hand "Seracenath is my calling.. mum's just worried 'bout Weyrlife.. pops is a bronzerider like yourself, so she knows it all too well." A shrug of the shoulders and shake of the head finalizes "I'm still going in t'healing, just finding m'own route y'know?" Who wants to be just like their parents anyway? Not this girl, most who met them on their recent visit would be thankful.
As the hatchling croons and takes Vrath's advice to dragon-hearts, eyes swirl at the cascading thoughts « Play time is nice.. and you're good at this stuff, sometimes it seems we're just barely getting by, figuring things out on our one, one by one, and as it comes. » Something prowling piques her interest, and the hatchling is quick to stand and bolt towards her lifemate's side. Mahl is turned away, putting belongings aside and puzzled by the urgency "What is it?? Who's here Cenath?" hand reaches to pat, as brow raises and she turns on both heels. Those vermillion eyes of hers go wide, expression telling all as she notices one familiar bronzen hatchling poking through the trees. "I uhh.. T'us?" she avoids pointing, certain the rider will turn round any moment to greet the close and sniffing company.
S'rok appears to be relaxing; loosening up somewhat from his nominal rigidity. This still isn't to imply that he's doing anything like, you know, talking a lot or having much to say. Even during their first meeting he spent most of his time talking to Seracenath instead of Mahlia, afterall. But the board like tension is thankfully gone. "If you ask nicely as part of your Weyrling duties when Seracenath is a little older, they will let you do work with the healers. I think it would be an admirable use of your time." He is peering at her from short range again, face lacking tension but also lacking much in the way of expression. "You have your roots in high places, don't you? Do you maintain family ties? Do you find pressure from them to …" Instantly, as someone else is rumored to be there, the mask slips back over S'rok's face and Mahlia is rewarded with no more conversation. At least for the moment. He can pick up from Mahlia's body language that someone is . . and suddenly hot breath is felt on his neck.
A broad hand reaches out to attempt to rest against the dragonet's nose, and redirect his breath a few inches to the right. "Oh, push off." He is saying to him. "What do you think you're doing?" Mahlia will notice though, that he's using that reasonably friendly tone that is explicitly reserved for hatchlings. "Where's your ride? Tell him to stop skulking around if he is, or that if he isn't, he ought to be ashamed of himself for letting you out of his sight and if he's sleeping, you ought to be ashamed for letting him out of your sight. Don't you know we men and women have no common sense?"
Meanwhile, Vrath is still talking to Seracenath. « I am not good at much of anything, but I listen and I listen very well. It is a skill that you would do well to master. Things . . people especially, tell you things without even them realizing it if you know how to listen. »
Awkward! That's the expression on his face as T'us does turn around, his spindly fingers gliding down and rubbing at his long pale neck. "Varu… why don't you give them some room… huh?" Varugoth slips around the tree, neck lowering as he continues to sniff and whuffle hot air at S'rok's face, yanking his blocky muzzle back as he gets a hand to the snout, taking a few hop steps aside to give S'rok a more concentrated stare. Varugoth's mindvoice opens for those in the area to catch the cool summer breeze and the spike of concern as hot coals snap « This man-thing is hurt. » More observation « And healed. » Prognosis: clean bill of health, which means the bronze weyrling is dismissing him and his lecturing by sliding back into the foliage, tail knocking ferns about as he sloppily makes his way back over toward T'us, slithering up in an arch behind the young man. Wings span out with a scathing slide of sails, earning a T'us-scritching underneath the chin. The redhead mutters, "I uh.. Hi Mahlia.. I..um.. well… good night… We'll get along now and leave you two…four… be." Does he sense he interrupted? Definitely! He may act the lone wolf but that doesn't mean he fails to miss the social cues, such as redirected or abruptly halted conversations!
Mahlia moves on from the conversation, storing the questions, possibly to be answered at a later date. She can't help but giggle a little at the hatchling rider interaction, an aspect of the gent now shown that he does not seem to easily share with humans. This is watched for a few good moments, special attentions paid to Varugoth who hasn't been viewed in quite some time, difficult to take sight of slinking spying night time dragonling. The whole situation is slightly comedic, hatchlings abound and ever curious, Seracenath is quick to get up in to the mix, verdant shimmering veil filling the air with tantalizing aromas of vanilla and cinnamon playing on olfactory senses « He hath been healed after taking down my human while running with closed eyes, silly humans » Dainty pointed snout is directed his way as she parts the trees and pokes lithe neck towards hiding bruffer and lifemate in the jungle night.
As the hatchlings wings are spread, T'us muttering scritcher comes in view and begins to speak. Mahl is happy to see him, many of the Weyrling's schedules off these days, and she smiles, beaming from ear to ear. Full lips curl at the corners, and tendrils fly as she shakes her head and flicks a wrist his direction "Oh come now T'us.. no interruptions here, s'been ages! Been wandering the darkness these days?" She stands facing the two, inviting and almost expectantly urging the company, the more the merrier, at least that's what Cenath keeps saying about flowers, animals, friends. The greenie chirps towards the Weyrling to quiet her busy mind before returning thoughts towards Vrath « I only hope to see things as wisely some day.. it is mostly confusion, these memories and feelings. Humans are quite strange. »
Vrath responds first; watching this all through both his eyes and S'rok's. « It is because you lack context right now, because you are young. Remember what I have told you today and you will go very, very far. Watch, observe and listen. Best skills you can have. » The bronze levers himself to his feet at this juncture, his own burnished wings stretching out their full length while he heaves a yawn and plods forward to loom over all present to see what is really going on. He offers no confirmation or denial to the statement made by Seracenath. Meanwhile, S'rok is flicks his gaze between the two of them. " … I see." He says, and is quiet beyond that. For a minute or two, then the stunted conversation sort of resumes. " … you need not leave on my behalf. I was simply receiving medical attention."
There's a vexed mutter under Tad's breath as he rubs his hand through his hair as they're systematically invited to mingle. Why Mahlia why!! There certainly is a frustrated look cast that way, thankfully only his brows catch the fractions of light amongst the shadows and they twitch down like they always do when this redhead faces the prospect of meeting others and more importantly, other riders. He has a slight aversion to riders, oddly enough - he wasn't one of those candidates to ever participate in washing dragons or talking to them. Somehow he always had an excuse to get out of it. He still doesn't look fit to move any closer than where he stopped, even as the stranger advises that he doesn't have to leave and it was a medical situation that was walked upon. T'us slides his hands into his pockets, scuffing the sand idly with the heel of his boot, talking lightly and privately with Varugoth, until there's a loud enough response to be directed at Mahlia, "Uh… yeah. Something like that."
Varugoth for his part settles his wings at his side, nudging the top of his head between T'us' shoulders, bumping the redhead affectionately before the weyrling dragon slithers back around to greet 'Cenath. Varu will bump his nose against the green's if she allows it before he darts off abruptly through the trees and lower foliage. It's surprising how quick he just disappears. T'us is straightening when Varu does go out of sight, but that's mostly because as soon as he could disappear into the night, the dragon has taken to stalking. T'us pulls hands out of his pockets to sway his head side to side and steeple fingers over his forehead.
Seracenath reacquaints herself with the distant familiarity of her clutchsibling, their noses meeting for one fleeting moment. There is a longing glance from the hatchling sent back towards the spiky-bronze and his lovely tail-cuddling spot, a gaze that can only be described as fondly grateful « Context.. watch, observe, listen.. and play right? » It is an invitation for the older dragon to join if he pleases, but the little greenie can't resist a good chase through the trees. Agility, and speed training, and pouncing all coming in to play, as she bounds gracefully past the humans, and towards the close darkness that shadows her inked emerald hide quite well. Varugoth, the stalker, may be stalked momentarily, glints of bronze specks and astute observations helping her to track him, her own camouflage helping to hid the small-ish green.
Mahl's thoughts extend and warn the hatchling to keep close, and there she stands, looking between the two gents, so endearingly awkward it is. "Well.." she claps her hands together, smiling and stirring up something to talk about since it seems she'll be doing the bulk of it. Reaching for a hideskin with her belongings, it is uncapped and offered "It's really good to see you T'us.. Redfruit juice anyone?" at least some refreshments might aid to make the situation more comfortable for everyone. Realizing how rude her lack of introductions is, she hops to, handing the skin to whomever shall take it, free hand motioning between the two "S'rok, rider of bronze Vrath, this is T'us, fellow Weyrling and lifemate to bronze Varugoth whom you've already met." There, that outta help, right? Hands go to hips and she places all of her weight on one foot, waiting for the two to make nice and start talking.
Vrath does not give chase, for he doesn't need to. Besides, he spends enough time running after greens as it is and today he just doesn't feel like it. But he can follow her with his mind to be sure. « Correct. You are a bright one for your age already. » He begins to lower himself to the ground again, settling down where he is completely blocking the path and absolutely not caring either. He is somewhat mean though, and projects to Seracenath where Varugoth is hiding because he can see him from his much-more-elevated position.
"Redfruit Juice?" S'rok asks, deadpan. "No." And that is all that she is going to get from him; the skin ignored until T'us is introduced to him and vice versa. The bronzerider shifts his gaze to that Weyrling, his eyes seeming devoid of plesantness or emotion. This isn't to say they are /unpleasant/ but certainly there is nothing welcoming in them. But one might notice he looks at Mahlia the same way. Only the dragonets are spared this. " … … . well met." He says, and stands to straighten up as though preparing to leave; brushing himself off.
Varugoth is all in for the game of stalking. He's mastering the arts of night prowling, using his own agility learned to keep down when Seracenath gets too close to him. He's right flat on his belly as his head goes to rest on his paws, eyes blinking and watching carefully to the ferns and foliage that may give Cenath away. Before she knows it, the bronze will pounce at her with his scalloped sails held aloft only to tag her once with a roll of his shoulder and then bound back away at full speed through the trees, weaving and dodging around in there.
T'us is trying to focus on his lifemate, the energy radiating off the young bronze enough to distract everyone. There is certainly a jovial mental wave coming from Varu. Yet, that doesn't necessarily pass to the young rider. Instead as the uncomfortable situation is made more so by the forced introduction - it's forced if he doesn't do it - the redhead shuffles in his stance and rubs the side of his face as hoping that would bring him some escape. The offer of redjuice is, like the other, waved off. He wasn't going to share GERMS with a stranger too! Then that other bronzer is looking at him, so cold, as if Tad was intrusive!! Talk about putting the red head off kilter. And this is why he doesn't like meeting other riders! If he isn't offending them, he's yielding to the other's dominance. Such is now - failing to notice that S'rok has regarded Mahlia in such a manner as well. Instead he clears his throat, to say a single worded response: "Same." That's when Varugoth gives him the escape he needs as the bronze yelps at something or another (he ran himself into a tree), stumbling back out of the foliage with his head shaking and his eyes showing hints of pain, flapping wings piteously. "No more. Time to go back-" T'us doesn't even register a departing word for the two he intruded on, going quick to his bronze with concern at first, chiding second - to the barracks where a trained eye can see to the playful Varu.
As quickly as the bronze and Weyrling slinked their way in, the continuation of an already awkward situation reemerges, redfruit juice was not the answer, but Benden, Mahl's usual choice, was not an option. She sighs and sips from the skin, feeling the curt dryness sucking up all the fresh air, aloof to the fact that between two of this nature, her seemingly natural introduction would surely end up this way. She's about to bumble something else, about the stars, or the weather, all so cliche she holds her tongue for one more excruciating moment. The sound of scurrying in the trees, unmistakably two hatchlings thrashing about, training out the window, playtime trumps all. Taking cues from Vrath, Cenath swoops those jeweled wingsails right in time and the dragons meet as if suspended in mid-air. They will wrestle, and she'll put up a good fight until the bronze gets away from her.
Mahlia is also distracted by this energy coming from the two dashing through the trees, and she sends warning, but just as the greenie backs off Varu's collision course takes him in to a tree. Cenath is rather worried, attempting to help her clutchsibling back to the shore, this makes Mahl's heart race. The girl is quick to grab her supplies and start for the pair of dragonets, but she doesn't have half a chance as T'us meets his lifemate and departs immediately. A half wave, but he's leaving and says nothing, so hand falls to side and she mutters something inaudible, looking to Seracenath with a tinge of dismay sharing some serious thoughts about the lessons she's been learning, growing in to their wings, and being careful! Ultimately, Mahl can't stay mad for long, and she smiles, reminding herself to check on Varu and T'us when she gets back to the Caverns. Eyes of both green hatchling and green eyed lass refocus from the distant gaze during their mindtouch… S'rok and Vrath remain, redfruit juice won't save her.
Vrath watches the two prowling dragonets, showing his bias by continually feeding the other information on where to find her male quarry. He settles down as they begin wrestling — he's paid his dues and done what he had in mind. Afterall, they are getting their exercize. Even as the other bumps his head he shows no real concern beyond projecting a reassuring feeling of warmth and a suggestion that he go to bed. Afterall; dragonets are hardy. Bronzes the most. They have thick skulls to help with their lack of brains.
Meanwhile, S'rok watches T'us leave so rapidly. He doesn't say anything else to him. Indeed, he might as well have left Pern. His right hand does reach out though, intending to encapsulate Mahlia's left wrist before she can wander off as well. Though he doesn't say anything immediately, taking his brain a moment or two to formulate what he wants to say.
Mahlia , though having no intention of traveling too quickly, feels the grasp and tug on wrist, and doesn't necessarily pull away, but is surprised by it. Seracenath, knowing there is nothing she can do for Varu at this moment, saunters back towards Vrath, a citrus and melon breeze wafting through senses of those who care to absorb it « Oops? » She waits for a reassuring welcome to cuddle back in the curve of massive ridged bronzen tail, she might even try to weasel her way up towards his side.
Mahl stands there frozen, but smiling at least, the emerald gems in her eyes fixed, long lush lashes batting lazily, maybe it's slightly sultry. Not sure what to say herself, she is silent, a semi-rare occasion.
That might actually surprise Mahlia indeed. S'rok is human. Or, is he? Is this the point where he clubs her over the head and then runs around for the next few hours wearing her face like a mask? Fifteen seconds stretch into twenty, while Vrath permits Seracenath to curl up as tight as she wishes. « Observe. Watch. » He says, using the tip of his tail to bluntly pat-pat her since he can't really afford that with any of his limbs given the difference in size at the moment. Either way, after forty five seconds S'rok finally speaks. If she's expecting a speech, she doesn't get it. Just a couple of simple lines, though for him two or three lines is actually quite the monologue.
"I'm sorry if I come across as being rude to you. I'm not trying to. I am sure you are a very nice person and you have just done good work on my head. Sometimes people think I am trying to upset them or ignore them or all kinds of mess like that, but it isn't true. I'm a little broken, never was put togeather right. Sometimes I can't make words come out to people. Just wanted you to know that, you seem nice. And thanks." And with that, he lets her go, and vanishes into the darkness. Vrath lowers his great head, applies a nuzzle. « Cover your eyes, lest you get sand in them. » And then with a great backwinging is in the air.