This Is Fine

Monaco Bay Weyr - Candidate and Weyrling Barracks
Huge in its own right, this series of interlinked caverns is the complex that houses both candidates and weyrlings. Fashioned out of a multitude of hollows, it serves as a central gathering area as well as classroom. A number of deep pockets have been laboriously smoothed to provide comfortable dwellings for the young dragons and their riders away from the weather of the central area, and affording them some privacy but not much. Above, the cavern opens to the sky, holding out the worst of the island's weather but allowing an aerial exit and providing natural lighting to the area. Branching off from this cavern is an opening that leads to the exercise yard, and another carved passage that leads onto the hatching sands - though this entrance is typically closed tight to prevent mischief.

Brohdan — « Don't start with that, my beloved B'anjo-boy, own your name! » — fine, B'an looks relieved to finally be off the sands, or away from the ash, or surrounded by his friends, or, « Impressed to me, DUH. », yes, impressed to Seksicanth whose name we still cannot handle but… there's something missing! "Where's Cassie?" « Oh, that old rag? He's still out there I think, » comes a voice dripping with chipper sarcasm, « but I wouldn't worry about him. I secretly think he wasn't intending to impress in the first place. » That last bit is whispered very poorly as the blue's tail whips around with a mind of its own to ass-smack Brodie into moving towards the food. « Besides, why hang with your lame family when we can hang with mine?! Hellooooooooo, sibbos! » Is that the mental impression of fingerguns in everyone's minds? It sure is.

Br'aby looks…. well, kind of lost, if we're being totally honest. He always looks a little bit like that, but today it's a bit like someone hit him in the back of the head with a rock. It doesn't help that the (admittedly large for a baby) Yevith thinks he needs to hover over his Chosen. He's not /quite/ big enough to hover, so there are numerous instances of wingspars to the back of Br'aby's head as he transports seemingly endless piles of meat to the ravenous bronze. « Seksicanth, » croons Yevith, as a chunk of something red and bloody goes down his throat with an audible gulp. « Why do you hit yours? »

It is an extremely dazed-looking Tyr'ie that sits on his cot — but a little head trauma never hurt anybody, Tyr, sheesh. "Yes," The weyrling mutters, staring at the still-sooty green and absolutely nothing else, mechanically feeding her neat little bits of meat. "I told her. She knows. It'll be here, now, can you please stop with that? I don't…I don't think the eruption's that bad." The newly-minted rider looks a little green around the gills, as Khaatxhath cranes her head in Seksicanth's direction, eyes narrowing. « Now, that's hardly kind, brother. Yours's probably worried about that old rag. » The green murmurs, slow, glancing around their siblings with an assessing eye. Do they maybe settle on Yevith, narrowed even further? MAYBE. What's it to YOU.

Seksicanth is thrilled that you asked, Yevith! « Because he likes it, » the blue trills with a cha-cha wriggle of his wings. Nevermind that the action nearly causes him to trip over himself - this is fine. "What? I do not," Brodie protests as meat glops out of his hands and back into the container he's pulling it from. « Don't lie to me, my precious little B'anana. I'm allll up in your brain now, remember? Tickle tickle! » Whatever Seksi does in his brain, it causes B'an to choke and drop everything, looking around helplessly for an adult, ANY ADULT. "S-say, do you think they do returns on dragons. I… I think this one is broken," he mumbles, shooting Khaatxhath a grateful look. "She's right you know. I am worried. And. Confused. This is a lot. Is your head okay?," he asks them BOTH, because of Tyr's head and the mild wing-cuffing poor Br'aby is currently receiving.

« I do not think he does, » Yevith echoes B'an's sentiment with a mild reproach… but really, he's far too interested in this meat to follow it up /too/ persistently. He doesn't even notice that narrow-eyed look he's getting! All is right in Yevith-land today. Br'aby, meanwhile, is looking a little harried. It probably doesn't help that he's currently smeared with soot /and/ blood. He looks up at the sound of someone making concerned noises. "Mm?" Blinkblink. Then his brows fly up. "Oh! Yes. /I'm/ fine. Are you all fine? That was all very dramatic?" Yes, that is voiced as a question. And another handful of meat is delivered bronze-ward. "I'm sure everyone else is fine. The weyrleaders will take care of them."

It looks like Khaatxhath is settling down on the meat front; the little green delicately accepts the occasional tidbit, but really, her attention is elsewhere. Tyr's isn't quite so wandering. "I don't think…that we can send them back?" The weyrling ventures, on Khaatxhath's drawled « Really, Seksicanth, let him breathe. Can't you see he's all green 'round the gills? » of dry reproval. "Terribly dramatic." Adds Tyr, whose cheeks are irritation-tear-smeared like some sort of particularly impressive rockstar — or clown, maybe? "Should I be seeing fire everywhere, do you think?" Beat. "Please, Khaatxhath, that's not…"

« Hmmmmmmmm. Nope. He likes it. And so do you, big boy. WOOPAH! » Yes, Seksicanth really did just make a whipping sound as he twirls his tail around to give Yevith a butt-spanking as well. Don't worry! He did it gently. « I'll save the good ones for later, » Seksi promises with a visual ;) from his brain to Yevi's, even as B'an makes a strangled noise and lunges to drag the white-eyed blue away. "I'm so sorry, m-maybe he's just hungry." Yeah, that's it! And definitely not that he's an, « Asshole. That's the word you're looking for to describe me, Khaatxhath. A-s-s-h— » "Ooookay, that's enough out of you, bottom's up!," B'an interjects, all but smothering Seksi to force him to shut up and eat. Brodie looks close to crying when he finally locks eyes with Tyr'ie and says, rather defeatedly, "I was afraid you'd say that." Not even worried when baby-teeth nip at his fingers, Brodie looks at Br'aby and says, "Understatement. It was intense. I couldn't see half of anything that was happening, didn't even know who to cheer for from the sidelines." Tyr earns a brow-raise for that 'seeing fire' comment, but he's almost out of food in his hands, and is desperate to keep Sek quiet.

Yevith heaves a long-suffering sigh at the tail-whipping. He must decide that the best course of action is to ignore the behavior, because his attention is soon centered on his Chosen. He's /finally/ slowing down on the food, and suddenly gives a jaw-cracking yawn. "/Are/ you seeing fire?" Br'aby wonders of Tyr, distractedly curious in a kind of absent-minded way that doesn't quite seem to register this as strange. Since Yevith seems about finished eating, the poor filthy fellow starts hunting for something clean off with. Surely there have to be towels somewhere, right?

« Well, call a polished shi— » "Oh! No, no, I don't think that's necessary, do you?" Tyr'ie cuts short what's surely a lovely ditty about turds, shoving the remnants of Khaat's bucket in B'an's direction like that might help. MAYBE. "Ah. Yes? It's not real. I think? I— I think it's her? She's…upset? I can't tell why." Maybe the sheer mass of the ash covering everything? Hatching in a volcanic eruption? General crankiness? Tyr doesn't look so sure; just as lost as poor Br'aby was, even. « Keep on eating and you'll see first hand 'bout those…what was it, Tyr'ie? Ah, » There's relish, here, as the ashy-bloody green blinks at the other hatchlings. « Turds. »

Seksicanth will not be ignored! … But also seems to be much more invested in food now that the initial wave of chicanery has passed, allowing everyone including his bestest-bro Yevith a brief reprieve as he makes Joey Chestnut look like an amateur. B'an, meanwhile, doesn't look at all relieved about the fact that the fire is coming from Tyr's dragon, shooting worried looks between the dragons and weyrlings in his immediate vicinity before looking at Seksi. "Do you think he'll catch on fire when he's angry, too?" « I hold only candles for you, my B'andito, » the blue purrs, a single flame flk-flkking to life like a lighter, swaying to and fro in his mind along with an old ballad that the blue sing-hums aloud in a very clear attempt to drown out Khaatxhath's SASS. Rude. Brodie takes that bucket slid his way gratefully, loading it up and pushing Seksi's snout into it as a distraction as he joins Br'aby in his quest. "What I wouldn't do for a bath right now. Did… did someone steal our towels?" Cause he sure can't find them, hatching-addled as he is.

Br'aby stares at Tyr'ie. This poleaxed look is becoming his normal face. "That sounds… unpleasant," he offers, sympathetically. "Perhaps she will sleep soon?" Awwwwkward. B'an brings his attention back to towels, and he frowns a little, looking around. Finally, he just gives up on the towel thing. Without a blink of remorse, he pulls a sheet off the nearest cot, finds some sort of water to dip a corner into (surely the dragons must have water, at least?), and starts cleaning himself off with it. "I think the dragons will need a bath, too. How /does/ one clean a dragon? Does anyone know?"

Tyr squints in B'an's direction, thoughtful, then at the blue — "Faranth, I hope not." The weyrling mutters, fervent. "It's fine." AWKWARD? What awkward. Tyr wouldn't know it if it bit him in the ass and tapdanced, obviously. Very obviously, since he's just kind of squinting at the ashy dragonets, thoughtful. "I…" Beat. "With water. I hope." Alright, sass. "Do you think they'll let us wash up?" Apparently deciding that the missing towels aren't a problem so much as permission, Tyr stands, and — sits, then, nodding to himself. Nope. No standing, then. « I wouldn't mind a bath. » The green admits, slow, standing to flick gross egg gunk-ash-sand-mixture off of her wings.

B'an is doing a pretty good Br'aby impression, then, staring blankly when the questions about bathing are asked and he asks, more than a little helplessly, "You mean they don't bath themselves? I thought the whole… Dragon-scrubbing thing they had us do as a like… right of passage. Hazing, you know, to scare us off." Oh… oh sweet summer child. He is in for a world of hurt. "Well, I don't see why they wouldn't let us get cleaned up. The beach isn't too far from here, really. If we take the buckets we can scrub the worst off, then bring a bucket back to dump over their heads when we're safe inside?" « Well, I'm certainly game, because one of us smells like Mama June's thigh sweat after eating a tub of barbecue baked beans and it's delightfully disgusting. » Sniff sniff. Sniff sniff. SNIFF. « Oh god it's me. Please, I beg you, get me to a washery. » And, well, since there's not an adultier adult than them in sight… Brodie offers his fellow weyrlings a supremely helpless shrug, lifts his mask back up to his face, and catches on to one of Seksi's shattered wings to keep him from getting lost in the dark and ashes.

Tyr'ie might have taken that bait at any other time — bless, the bumpkin, not-knowing of all the Weyr-ly terribleness, the sheer amount of washing that is to come. Right now, though, the poor guy looks like a frying pan would be kinder than the Impression-fog. "That's a good point." It's not. It's really not. But look. Who's stopping them? NOBODY. SUCKAS. « Think it'll clean up that mouth of yours, brother? » Is Khaatxhath's contribution to that bout of lovely imagery, sweet as honey, as Tyr stands, again, this time slightly more successfully. He wobbles, but he doesn't fall down, casting a wide-eyed look at Br'aby. "C'mon, you look worse than me. Why's there so much blood." It's…not a question, and no, he doesn't seem to realize that he, too, is covered in it! Why would that be important. What is important is that he may or may not wander off, if he doesn't stick pretty close on Brodie's heels. So obviously, he goes as slowly as shuffling feet can take him.

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