Ride the Dragon {Blizzardbaiters Lesson}

[Chek]

Weyrlings. Bring your riding straps for inspection, and wear full flight gear. Hurry hurry hurry! Sprawled in the mid afternoon sunshine, Girieth, also wearing all straps, lounged in place while F’reki paces around in front of him, marking out lines with chalk dust and then drawing large – very large – boxes nearby.

By the time the first geared up weyrling arrived, he was done. For the Blizzardbaiters, arriving one by one, those markings were the first sign that, maybe, this wasn’t one of F’reki’s normal gear inspections. Once they were all assembled, F’reki stopped in front of their ragged line and cleared his throat, “Yesterday, you all finally had your riding straps at a satisfactory level, congratulations, Today, we are going to actually have you use them for the very first time somewhere other than on the ground; that’s right, today you actually become dragonriders in more than just name. Get your dragons strapped up and yourselves secured.”

F’reki watched as the Blizzardbaiters scrambled; this wasn’t the first time he’d had his weyrlings get into full gear, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had them fully strap in and walk around, but he had to watch carefully today. The excitement of first flight could lead to…things being overlooked. Once it seemed like everyone was settled in and ready, he walked through them, checking one by one to make sure each one was secured safely to their dragon; mostly, everyone seemed to have done well, F’reki only having to issue command for small fixes here and there.

Inspection complete, F’reki strode back to Girieth and climbed his dragon’s shoulder, strapping himself in and then waving at his weyrlings, then pointing to Girieth. Obligingly, the blue took over the speaking park of the lesson, Everyone, form two lines behind these lines, F’reki pointed at the two lines he’d drawn, his blue shifting so the weyrlings could see what his rider was doing, One at a time, you are going to take off, lap the weyr once, and then land in the landing square for your side. Don’t take off until the previous flier lands. Then, go get in the other line and do it again, and so forth. There are riders on the Rim waiting to help if you need it. When you get tired, come sit by me. My hatchlings, you have flown unmanned, but you must be more careful lest you shake your rider around too much. Riders, brace yourselves in a relaxed manner on takeoff and landing; there is much force being inflicted upon you, and more than one weyrling has broken their face on their partner’s spinal ridges.

Once all weyrlings shuffled into line, F’reki pumped his fist skyward, the signal for the first dragons to take off.


OOC: Feel free to have F’reki have you adjust whatever on your straps. No posting order, you can have everything you want to do in one post, or you can break it up smaller, whatever you prefer. Calling this one at the end of the month, unless everyone decides it’s done before that. Only two weyrlings will be in the air at a time, and here is a sucky mspaint layout of the lesson area.

SPOILER: Click to show

Have fun!

[kireon]

Ooh...[/i]

Child-like delight mixed in with a sense of faint incredulty gave Aylina pause mid-stitch through the repairs on the harness she was making. The day was wonderful out, full sun, a few puffy clouds for her beloved to enjoy while sunning herself, and perfect weather to just sit out and make repairs on some gear while enjoying a breather. Brown eyes blinked once, twice and a third and fourth time to adjust to the brighter light as she came out of the shade of her resting place and on to the ledge her dragon perched on.

One hand automatically went to the broad, sun warmed arm as she leaned out enough to see what had caught Wenth's eye away from her favorite passtime. One, two, three... well, she'd be a wherry hatching out of a golden egg; had it really been that long since her girl'd hatched all those gorgeous dragonets? "Well, lookit that, Wenth." She mused aloud, a grin spreading across her face, chest swelling with a sense of pride over the full class of Blizzardbaiters. Why the name'd been that was somethin' she was still privately tryin' to figure out herself. How did someone bait a blizzard, per say? Storms didn't, to her understandin' anyway, have any kinda sentience and couldn't be.

Wenth gave a quiet, thoughtful croon in response to the distracted train of thought and blinked once. They are flying today, Pretty, yes... they are...[/i] Something quick and fleeting raced across the tan's slow to catch up mind, disappearing just as suddenly as it had cropped up. The tan's eyes shaded deeper to blue, small pools of green poking through in the center facets. I hope they will love the sky, yes... I do... it is a very nice sky, and they can learn how to play in the clouds, yes... they can... do you remember how we learned to play in the clouds, AylinaPretty?[/i]

There was a soothing rub against the tan's hide, Aylina's calloused palms moving in slow, firm circles. Yup, I definitely r'member that. Near broke m'nose that firs' time, prolly screamed like one o' them Southern felines runnin' rampant down there in them tropic areas. She chuckled at the memory, hoping all her darling's children learned to love the sky the way their mother so did.

And wished the best of luck on the riders who'd Impressed as well, each and every single one of 'em, as she plopped down to watch and mend her harness as before. Might as well keep her darlin' girl company while they overlooked this lesson.

[lee]

"Wait, how does this g—GACK" Fwump.

Helplessly tangled in the dragons-sized straps, T’yer tripped himself (again) to land in a tumbled heap of boy and hide.

Lenticuth sighed.

Here. Hurry up. Delicately as he could, he bit the straps and tugged, untangling T’yer in one fluid unravel and holding the piece up where it was supposed to go. The order was quick and snappish, but T’yer knew it was eagerness that made the tone of his viridian turn sharp. The tall weyrling clucked his tongue and hopped back up, dutifully buckling the strap Lenticuth was holding into place, and didn’t respond, knowing that if he did his partner would only snap right back to stop chatting and pay attention to what he was doing so he could get it done. The fastidiously cautious dragon wasn’t about to let His make any mistakes, not when what was at stake was the sky. T’yer wasn’t quite as cautious, but he was, by nature of his prior craft, resignedly meticulous, and he did, eventually, get it all sorted out.

…and if his hands shook a bit while he tightened one of the buckles on the neck strap, Lenticuth pretended not to notice.

Riding belt to chest strap, both neck straps, and, T’yer smiled sheepishly as their Weyrlingmaster pointed to one last one, the bridge straps as well, because T’yer had made something of a reputation for himself as being as clumsy as his partner was effortlessly fluid. Lenticuth was not so broad in the chest as some of his fellows, but he was large enough that T’yer had added a fourth bridge strap (after getting himself untangled from it), constantly resisting the urge to glance over at Girieth and check to see if he had done it right. He needed to know how to do it right, without a reference, and they had practiced the straps enough that his hands and arms and eyes knew, even if his mind doubted…because this time it really mattered to be right.

They were going to fly.

They were going to fly.

When T’yer pulled himself up atop the viridian—with considerably less grace than Lenticuth would have liked, but Lenticuth kept getting bigger and T’yer hadn’t really worked out a good method for getting up there—a breathless laugh escaped his lips like a bubble in water, a mixed brew of exhilaration and sheer, unadulterated terror. T’yer had been on precisely one dragon in his life, and then he’d been in such a state of shock that he’d been as cold as the brief blink between and remembered very little of it. And that dragon had been experienced, had know what they were doing…

But as always—always! What a wonderful word—Lenticuth was the mild, cool presence in his mind. That’s terribly insulting, you know.. The dragon snorted, though T’yer tasted the amusement under it. Chuckling weakly, T’yer’s white knuckled grip eased. Lenticuth had done this before, even if T’yer himself hadn’t. He’d watched him. Lenticuth danced in the sky, taking to it like…well like a dragon to the sky, but then, T’yer had never been particularly adept at metaphors. They stood at the front of the line, the pair of them, both lanky lines and awkward angles, and Lenticuth despite his anxiousness to go, to get in the air, took a moment to share it with T’yer, and T’yer swallowed, infected by his usually taciturn viridian’s willingness to share something as private as the bone-deep joy, slow and warm like a sunning feline. T’yer swallowed once more—why, oh why was his throat so dry?—and shifted himself in the still-uncomfortable stance astride his partner. Okay. Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s do it!

White as a sheet, but grinning stupidly, T’yer waved to F’reki to show he was ready, and Lenticuth tore his gaze away from the lazy, puffed clouds in the sky to watch their instructor as well.

Ready?

Ready.

Lenticuth’s swirling eyes jumped to a frenetic pace, body crouched, tensed, ready as his gaze locked on F’reki’s hand, ready for the signal.

One… Oh faranth, the ground was going to drop away. two…

[/color] It was going to be so far away. T’yer panicked. three! "WAI—" GO! BANG! "ACK!"

Not quite concussed, but dazed, T’yer—whose nose had been saved only by the great viridian contorting his neck underneath him, so that the unbraced boy whalloped the side of his head and not the front—gulped, and tried not to shriek, blinking rapidly. Oh shards, oh shards, oh shards, they…they…

Faranth.

They were flying.

Smugly, Lenticuth started at a lazy pace, low hum in his belly as he held back the silly urge to bugle his glee, catching a current to slide harder and show, show T’yer the sky, the view, the Weyr, and T’yer was breathless. See?[/color]

T’yer did. With a whoop that was as loud as any hatchling’s bugle, the fear evaporated, and T’yer didn’t even notice the steady stream of warm liquid dripping into his eyes from the cut his helmet-to-hide collision had created. He flung every bit of love he could at his dragon, his beautiful dragon, his wonderful dragon, his flying dragon, and Lenticuth, amused, craned his head, and T’yer caught only a whiff of the wicked intent, enough to go white again and open his mouth in a horrified ‘o’, as Lenticuth tucked his wings and rolled, then flung them open again as the boy on his back shrieked (though it may have been low enough to have been properly called a holler), though the sound ended in a crackling laughter. Neither of them, in that moment, cared if they got in trouble for the stunt, though T’yer vaguely chided the viridian and Lenticuth, cautious creature that he was, pointed out he had saved the maneuver for one of the farther parts of the Weyr so it would be hard to see. If they were grounded, oh, so be it! To be in the sky now…the rest of their lap around the weyr was scrupulously orderly, as though to make up for the brief indiscretion, or somehow pretend it hadn’t happened, and at a restful pace because neither boy had any desire to race, only to savor. Lenticuth circled the landing box once--Do try not to injure yourself this time, if you please…—and landed as smoothly as a cat…not that it helped T’yer, who whalloped his head this time on his own knee, but he was laughing too hard to notice, too thrilled, too ridiculously giddy to be minded by the impact. It left a smear of blood from his shallow cut, and T’yer, wheezing laughs now because his breath was gone, fumbled with the chin strap to fish around for a kerchief. It’d blot by the time they were up again, and he sagged against Lenticuth’s neck, holding it tight and completely devoid of the desire to slither back to the ground he’d had that second before initial takeoff.

That was amazing.
That was incredible.
That was—

A bit sloppy. Clipped a corner on the east side. And you were useless, you know.

Mortally offended, T’yer gaped, stunned out of his laughter to stare in silence. The silence lasted only a second or two, and he dissolved into helpless giggling, adrenaline draining him into hopeless euphoria.

YOU. Are no fun.

Perhaps not. But at least I landed properly. Unlike someone here.

Catching the amusement in the tone--not that Lenticuth didn't mean it, because oh, he did--T'yer just chuckled, and thwapped the great neck below him. Next time. He promised. And he closed his eyes, bonelessly draped over the dragon and held somewhat erect only by the myriad of straps holding him so. There would be a next time. And another next time, and a thousand more after that. And they'd get it right.[/blockquote][/size]

[Gray]

Sneaking across the table, Nevermore used the items scattered over it to duck and hide. He made barely any noise, only the faint scrape of his tail against the wood and the rustling of his wings signified he was anywhere near. It wouldn't matter, anyways, for A'til was fast asleep. Arms crossed to pillow his head, a thin line of saliva linking the corner of his mouth to a pool of drool. Chasing after and watching Matilda had taken it's toll, and today Nevermore was going to get revenge. Prowling closer and closer, he was just about to bite A'til's ear when Asperath let loose a low bugle.

Wake up A'til, man you're always so tired! Come on, F'reki and Girieth need us![/i] The viridian nosed his partner, knocking the young man out of his chair. Grunting, A'til nodded.
“ 'M up. 'M up. Stop assaulting me. I'll get ready... What do we need?” A'til rubbed the side of his face, feeling the thick, rough stubble there, eyes squinting blearily at the seafoam blob that was his dragon. 'Blob' was really stretching it though. Asperath had grown by leaps and bounds over the last few seasons.
Flight gear and straps! A'til almost groaned. Of course, flight gear in the summer, as well as straps when his brain was still working at half speed. But he would muscle on. Inconvenience and discomfort were nothing new.

As soon as he had dressed, he and Asperath were out. As soon as it dawned on A'til that this would not just be an inspection and practice flight for their dragons, he sucked in a gulp of air. It was time.
What, are you scared? A'til could feel Asperath's laughter even though the dragon hadn't made a sound. He swallowed a sharp retort and shook his head.
“Not scared, just wasn't prepared for this.” That was partially a lie, and Aseprath knew it. A'til had been thinking about flight, preparing himself for it ever since the viridian had first taken to the skies. With cold determination, A'til focused on doing the straps. Everything would be ok as long as he checked and double checked. His pace seemed to upset the viridian a bit.
Oh come on. Hurry up, at that pace even T'yer will be done before you! What was supposed to be a light and joking comment came out a bit to harsh, but Asperath wasn't one to really apologize. At least, not at first.

Fine. There. I'm done, are you happy? For a moment, Asperath was, until F'reki pointed out a few areas that were too loose. A'til was not above sending the viridan a rather knowing 'I told you so' glance. Once everything had been fixed, A'til scaled the side of his dragon with ease. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Asperath, on the other hand, seemed as on the edge as ever. Puffing out his chest, the viridin readied himself.

Ready?
Of course. The cockiness in that reply made A'til laugh a bit, but he felt it too. They were as ready as ever. He lifted a hand to signal to F'reki that they too were ready. The moment his hand dropped, Asperath tensed. He crouched low, muscles in his thick legs tightening like a spring, his wings ready to capture the skies.

The moment the pair heard three, Asperath kicked off and A'til braced himself. One moment they were on the ground, the next they were in the skies. Asperath was not the liquid grace his brother was. No, he did not dance In the sky at all. Instead he charged at it, ready to take it on. In the air, he almost seemed more business than play, that was until he let out an almost snorting honk. A'til, on the other hand, was speechless. So this was flight. He took a deep breath of clear, cool air, not minding the sweat that trickled down the back of his neck.

That moment of quiet calm was over so quickly though, as Asperath focused on getting around the Weyr faster than Lenticuth had. The first burst of speed caught A'til unawares, and the wind tugged at him painfully.
Sorry. Duck low this time. Streamline. It will be fun, I promise! Asperath let his apology roll over A'til as he slowed, letting the young man lay a bit lower across his dragon's back, making him a smaller target for the wind.
Go, let's see how fast we can do this. A smirk tugged at his lips as Asperath bugled an answer and set off again. Their flight was clumsy and rushed, and probably dangerous for a first time. But as they neared the square, they were satisfied. They might not have even been faster than Lenticuth and T'yer. But the two felt accomplished. Even as Asperath landed a bit harder than intended, causing both of them to jolt uncomfortably.
Maybe next time, we should try to do this properly. A'til wheezed atop his dragon, both laughing and trying to catch his breath.
Yea, but where's the fun in that?