Beginnings and Endings [Wavewalkers]

[fidelli]

A circle is round,
It has no end.

And it was true, the little nursery rhyme that children sing. A circle had no end... And yet it had to have had both, for what is created without both a beginning and an end? Somewhere there was a beginning to the circle, the single moment when a pencil was put to paper - or when Faranth laid her first golden egg. And as the circle was slowly traced it finished that cycle - but the pen was never lifted and another circle was began inside that. And then we come to this one circle, in particular, a little line in the shape that is Pern - the birth of Altith, and the weyrlinglessons that they participated in. And as their weyrlinglesson's ended, a new era was born - the weyrlinglesson's that F'del began to lead. Mind you, there was a time, in the beginning, when his puppeteer was not so depressed and crazy, and the laid-back man did not do silly things like try and quit his addiction.

Of course, he really can't be blamed for that but things do happen, and lives change, for better or for worse. And when people enjoy doing things that they really like doing, you can't always deny them that. It was why F'del stood up that morning, after so many other mornings exactly like it, and realized that he was being selfish.

But the puppeteer digresses.

This would not be their last lesson - but the weyrlings were growing up. Exams would be soon - and nearly a turn and a half later they were almost grown up. In time they would be handed their own special knots, and their titles. Some would grow up to Weyrleader's and Weyrwoman - other's would save Pern a little at a time, and still other's would forever cause mischief and trouble throughout the weyr. That was that - and he had helped create them. Come, young ones. So much to learn, with so little time. So, as the gentle man relaxed back on the forepaw of his Purple, he watched with hooded eyes as the weyrlings gathered before them, one after another. Gold, Iron, Bronze, Brown, Purple, White, Blue, Black, Green, Pink, and Cyan, one after another. Some were bigger than Altith, as he watched with with an amused eye the dragonets. His babies had begun to grow - Gold, Iron and Bronze were bigger than him now, and Brown was his size. The Purple was smaller than the big sporadically covered Purple, but Altith knew when Mesirith hit his final growth spurt he would pass him, and F'let's would be nearly as big as him.

And not even the higher colors - Altith remembered dimly, and fondly, mainly through His's memories, of the tiny creatures that could gambol around his paw's - like Oorth and Eccolath did on many occasions. Now, they were not tiny creatures anymore - each would soon be Flying, and each would have new experiences to gather with Their's. Dear heart, we must first make sure that they pass their exams. The gentle reminder pulled both rider and dragon from their reminiscing, and Altith looked over again to count. All are here.

The rider straightened then, looking at the young riders with more spark to his genial smile than had been there in a long time. He looked relaxed again - and Altith had begun to put on weight, and his tail did not sit still. Time, it seemed, did seem to heal all wounds, even though with the slightest movement they could crach. "Good morning, Weyrlings. Altith and I are proud of you, you must know. Despite the various difficulties you all have had, each and every one of you has learned everything. Your final exams will be soon, you know - but, we will begin to practice seriously for them now. If you look above you, you will see -" And Altith took over smoothly, echoing inside all minds. There are several rider's up there. Each has a small pile of rope, that they will drop. What we expect is this. The rope is Thread, and you must get from the first end of the bowl to the other end while they drop the rope on you. You must fly through successfully, while - "Flaming it. If it drops on you, you blink between and come back out where you were. The more rope you thread, the less times you get hit by it, the more points you gain. You must blink between at least twice, and at the end, the winner get's a prize."

The rider smiled, and turned, swinging up on Altith with a practiced, graceful air. "Now," - because this is the first time you are trying this, we ask that you - "go one at a time. Volunteer's, first, then I'll pick if no one does." Oh, and we will check your harness's as well! Ten points for a good harness, - "twenty points for all of the "thread" flamed, twenty points for how well you fly," - twenty points for betweening, twenty points for not being hit by the thread, and ten points for making it all the way across. "If you or your dragon get's hit in the face, or him in the wings, or anywhere else we deem excessive, myself or one of the riders will call you "out" and you will land there. We will take points off in ones and twos, or not give you any at all. The smaller colors will have shorter tracks, but the evasion will be harder - the larger colors will be longer, but you will not have quite as many. Queenrider, you will be judged on your flamethrower skills."

Suddenly the man grinned, and pointed to the small bag at Altith's feet, that Ribbon was guarding so happily. "The winner get's that - a surprise, and if you don't want it I will be happy to substitute, but the winner will be announced at the end. Alright? Ready when you all are."

Where;; Across a corner of the bowl
Weather Conditions;; It's fair outside, sunny, with a little wind popping up here and then to toss the "thread" around.
Goal;; Get across the bowl while flaming the "thread", having at least blinked between twice, more if you are "hit".
Scoring;; Harness - 10
"Thread" flamed - 20
Flying - 20
Betweening - 20
Avoiding Thread - 20
Reaching Destination - 10
Do's;; Feel free to powerplay F'del saying that yes the harness is alright, no /that/ needs to be fixed. You may also powerplay him saying you are out - I'll judge the winner after everyone has posted, k? And if you have a rider and you want to have them being one of the ones dropping thread on them, that works too! F'del and Altith will be flying behind, watching.
Don't;; Don't make your character fantastic - I trust you all, but remember, these are still young dragons who will be clumsy in some parts and no one should score a hundred. Feel free to have fun with this - IC, they will be doing this and other exercises like it until final exams, which means they will have time to improve.

[4horseshowgirl4]

It was kind of a shocker, looking into the Pinkpair's weyr that day.

Pratyba was actually working. That didn't happen too often! What was wrong? Who was this person, and where had the aliens taken the real Pratyba?

MINE! IT'S A REALLY UGLY WHERRY. LET'S GO CHASE IT!

[/color] Oorth suddenly interrupted from her position sunning on the ledge, getting to her feet and bouncing happily.

Pratyba had to look several times between her dragon and the riding straps in her lap. She'd just made these, but, having torn the Candidate robe to shreds, the riding straps had become their tug-of-war item of choice, and, well... most of the leather was covered in tooth marks, and several of the straps had torn completely. She really did need to fix them, or F'del would have her hide. However, the work could always wait, and that ugly wherry was just begging for them to chase it. The decision was easy, really.

Pratyba threw on her ragged straps on Oorth, who was fidgeting impatiently, ready to be off, but it took Pratyba several long minutes just to figure out how to make the straps mostly safe. The long girth strap was ripped in two, but the long, thick straps could substitute for the trashed seat straps, perhaps? The neck straps should hold the whole thing on well enough, hopefully, even if the chewed leather was straining and cracking. She kind of just threw it all on there and plopped herself down on top of it all, looping one of the comically thick girth straps over her waist. There. That worked. Kind of.

They launched into the sky, and the targeted wherry gave an alarmed squawk and dashed off. Instantly, they were after it, passing over F'del and Altith as they did. {Altith's hasn't called yet, has he?} Pratyba asked as they made a ridiculously sharp turn to the left after the panicked bird. Nope! Not yet! We gotta get this thing first, though![/color] Oorth replied happily, speeding up and bearing down on the wherry, who changed tack and zoomed under her stomach. Oh, now he called![/color] Oorth said, wheeling around, half to chase the wherry, half to head back to Altith. However, the maneuver was finally too much for the tattered riding straps. One of the neck straps snapped in half, and the other followed a second later. Pratyba, unable to quite grip her dragon's neck as securely as she needed to, fell victim to centrifugal forces and was slingshot off of Oorth.

Mercifully, they hadn't been that high off of the ground, and Pratyba knew how to fall well (she'd certainly had enough practice). She rolled to absorb the impact, ending right at F'del's feet. "Hello, Weyrlingmaster!" she said cheerfully before picking herself up and trotting over to Oorth, who had landed behind her, showing absolutely no sign of any embarrassment at their less-than-graceful entrance.

While F'del and Altith were explaining the exercise, Pratyba wove among her classmates, 'borrowing' the extra lengths of leather that could be used to secure extra cargo or people off of their straps and tying them together, along with the surviving bits of her own harness, to make some more straps for herself. Just as F'del finished, she threw up her bag of firestone, tied it down, and strapped herself in. It was an incredibly mismatched, sad-looking set of riding straps, much less one that looked safe, but, hey, it was riding straps. "WE'RE FIRST!" Pratyba shouted, stepping forward. This sounded like fun! When F'del approached to check their straps, she hurriedly said, "I know, I know! I swear I was fixing them right before you called the lesson! I'll be fine! Okay, bye!" and with that, she was off.

They flew the short stretch to where the 'Thread' would drop easily, as quick and agile as Oorth was. Along the way, Pratyba remembered to crank Oorth's head around and shove some firestone into her mouth. She timed it far too early, though, or perhaps she had fed Oorth too much, as she began to flame far before they reached the 'Thread.' (Oorth should have been able to control herself a bit better than that by now, but the Pinkpair was not one to dutifully practice flaming outside of lessons.) The ropes began to fall, and they actually managed to sear the first several successfully. Then, Oorth was hit by one in the shoulder, and Pratyba, on the leg. "Go between!" Pratyba yelled, giving the Pink an image a few feet to their left. BUT THEN THE ROPES WILL HIT THE GROUND![/color] Oorth said frantically, not willing to let any of them pass her. Needless to say, it was quite a good thing that this wasn't actual Thread.

The ropes falling all over the place was quite confusing ditzy Oorth, and she spun around in circles, flaming randomly, and hitting nothing but open air for the most part. She ran out of flame, and spun around again to get more from Pratyba. However, apparently the second set of straps was calling it quits, too, or Pratyba just hadn't tightened the straps enough, because the whole thing heaved over until Pratyba and the firestone were hanging under Oorth's belly. "MAYDAY. MAYDAY." Pratyba shouted. Oorth paused for long enough for Pratyba to slither out of the strap that held her in place and climb her way back up top.

If F'del had yelled 'Out,' they hadn't heard it, or cared if he did. The firestone was unfortunately out of reach, but the ropes were still falling around them. They couldn't let any of them hit the ground! So... they began to catch them. Hey, they were ropes, not Thread! Oorth caught several in her mouth and talons, and Pratyba snagged the rest out of the air. They flew back over to the group, clutching the dozens of ropes. They landed, and Pratyba slid off and reached under Oorth's belly to grab a few pieces of firestone. The dragon chewed them up and burned the ropes, leaving only bits of ash on the ground. "Ta da!" Pratyba said, raising her arms in triumph. "How was that? I think we did pretty well, didn't you, Weyrlingmaster?"[/right][/font]

[jack]

Durian had gotten used to never sleeping alone. Even now, with Mesreath the size of a small building, she was used to waking up with his muzzle…or a paw…or half his tail somewhere on her bed. Usually on top of some part of her body part. So when she groggily slid into the world of the wakeful, it was with a complete lack of surprise that she found her gaze met with a pair of whirling red eyes.
They call.

It took the brunette a long moment to figure out what her dragon was talking about, her sleepy mind rifling through dozens of options one at a time, but with a grunt of displeasure, she found the image of F’del and Altith flashing in her head responded to with a quick affirmative touch to her skull. Slowly, in absolutely no rush to get out and do whatever it was they wanted, she rolled out of her furs, stretching with the careful grace of an especially large cat.
We will need our better set of straps, Mine. Mesreath input as he followed the girl with his head, even going so far as to stretch his neck out all the way to keep her in vision even as she disappeared into a separate area of the weyr. It is an important day.
”Alright, Mes…” Durian interrupted with a yawn, shrugging into her clothes with a little bit more speed, ”We’ll do fine, I’m sure. Would you like to snag a meal while I dress?”
The Brown blinked, amused, and tilted his head subtly to the side, We already had breakfast, Mine. You just fell back asleep.

The brunette flinched at the accusation, blinking with wide, surprised eyes as she scooped a chattering Reggae from a cabinet, stroking the pink’s long neck softly, ”And you let me?”
It was a long evening. You needed to sleep, DurianMine.
She snorted at this, but gave no other complaint, giving Reggae a moment to clamber onto her shoulder—the tiny creature sending her wave upon wave of images to explain how well her day had gone while Durian had slept—before scooping up their favorite set of straps. It was a handsome set, and not the first. She’d taken quite a liking to working on them since their start, and this was the third and best set she’d made.

With careful assistance from Mesreath—who craned his neck around to inspect every inch of the straps, making certain they were secure enough for his Mine—she got them set to go, and easily climbed into position. The stocky Brown waited a few moments—adjusting his own position as though testing the weight of Durian on his neck—before with a humph of approval, he launched into the air. Large wings snapped open easily and smoothly, the large creature fairly graceful in the air. He would never be as agile as many his size, but he made up for his lack of flexibility with power, endurance, and a surprising stability in the air.

Little Reggae flew alongside the duo as they glided to the meeting place, although she betweened and didn’t reappear in view until Mesreath had touched down and knelt for Durian to dismount. With a trill of happiness, the pink ball landed on Durian’s head, chattering absently for a moment before quieting and curling up like a sneaky feline on Hers’ head. Durian chuckled and chose to ignore the oddball of a creature, turning her full attention to F’del and his explanation of the activity to be performed.

So the ropes are thread, huh?
So it seems.
Sounds like fun! You up for this, Mes?
The Brown was silent, his eyes to the sky, watching as his overexuberant sister and her Mine set out. They were clumsy, near manic in the air, and the ropes fell not around but on them. He gave a low rumble of disapproval, curling his tail about Durian’s legs. Thread is very bad. He announced, as though to explain.
Well…yes. But that’s what our job will be if it ever comes, Mes! Burning Thread.
The Brown gave an out-loud growl of disapproval, his eyes whirling quickly as he tensed, tightening his protective circle around Durian in an almost snake-like manner.
”You cut that out!” A light, back-handed smack to his muzzle and a trill of warning from Reggae, and the Brown grudgingly loosened his hold, letting Durian squirm free, We’re going to have to fight Thread, Mes. Its our lot in life! There’s no getting out of it if it falls. Okay? He gave another growl. I know you’re worried, big guy. I know. But we’ll get good! We’ll get so good at this game that should Thread ever fall, we’ll never get touched! Okay?
Mesreath, stayed perfectly still, his stance unchanged for a good long moment. But without warning he rose to his feet with a long sigh, rustling his entire body before licking his maw absently. Very well, DurianMine.

Victorious, Durian strode up to F’del, Reggae staring at him for a few long moments before—with a squeak—she scurried off to watch from a distance. The brunette waited as F’del checked her straps, knowing quite securely that they would pass. They were her pride! And just as she’d hoped, he approved, and with an inclination of her head, she scurried into place and got herself set.

Mesreath waited again until she was settled, and then powerful hindquarters shoved him into the air, great wings pumping strenuously to get his bulk into the sky. He built up speed easily, his nostrils flared and eyes whirling as he headed towards the “thread”, only taking half an eye off of it when Durian insistently shoved firestone into his maw. The first wave of fire was a bit shaky, but it left several ropes smoking to the ground as the massive dragon hefted himself to the side to avoid others. The second mouthful provided a much more substantial flame, clearing away a much bigger portion of the ropes. Too many above us—between!
The dragon did so with a snarl of annoyance, the Brown never having been too fond of the cold chill. He disappeared easily, however, reappearing about two yards to the side with his mouth already open and flaming from the firestone shoved there seconds before they’d betweened. Another section of ropes disappeared from the flame, and the Brown gave a pleased huff at the result. But almost as quickly as he was flexing in victory, wheeling himself to the side to take out the last bits, Durian gave a soft squeak on his back, and quickly squirmed her way free of a rope that was dropped completely on her.

It fell to the ground and Durian arose unharmed, mumbling and grumbling about the whole affair as she ordered Mesreath between as they were instructed to. He did so, but when he reappeared, reappeared in a fury. Roaring out he lunged at the last of the ropes, Durian shocked and confused on his back as he ripped into them, claws grasping one end and his maw the other as he pulled them until they snapped. Only when the remaining threat had been completely disbanded did he circle for a landing at the end of the track, hitting the ground heavily as he shook himself with another roar, eyes whirling not his usual red, but an absolutely furious one. Durian slid from the harness and hit the ground into a roll, sitting stunned as her dragon immediately circled around her, hiding her between his claws , bulk, and beneath his wings as he fumed, looking more like a treasure-hoarding lizard than the dragon he was. Mine!
”Oh Mes….you wherrybrain.”

[Birdy]

Seiseth opened one whirling eye, watching His sleep. He normally waited for her to wake up to eat but this morning he was hungry. Very hungry. And His didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon either. Blinking, he stood up, stretching his legs and yawning. With another glance at His, he made his way to the entrance to the weyr. Spreading his wings, he jumped off the ledge into the cool morning air.

Chelo sat up, expecting to see the black mass that was Seiseth in front of her. But all she say was rock. Seiseth? she asked tentatively. It’s all right Chelomine, I’m eating, Seiseth replied quickly, sounding preoccupied. Probably in the herd beast he was devouring. Is it good? she asked, slightly repulsed at the idea of eating raw meat. But from Seiseth’s point of view it was so delicious. Chelo gagged, she was so hungry even herdbeast sounded good!

I’m going to eat, Chelo said hurriedly, pulling on a pair of pants and a white shirt. Luckily she had one of the lower weyrs and it didn’t take long to get to the dining hall and eat a quick breakfast. She returned to find Seiseth settled on his couch. We are wanted by Altith, he told His, rolling off the couch to be put in the straps. “You’re gonna break your wings silly,” she said, hurrying over with the straps.

Once they were fully strapped in, Chelo climbed up on the Black’s back. Oh, how she missed the days when she could easily hop onto Seiseth’s back. But she supposed she didn’t have much to complain about. She didn’t want to know how long it took poor Avalle to climb the great golden mountain that was Callistath. Seiseth rumbled at His’s thoughts, taking off from the ledge for the second time that morning and circling down into the bowl.

The pair listened intently to the Rider’s lesson, Weiseth helping Chelo take mental notes (he was much better at that sort of stuff) on what they were going to be tested on. At the mention of flaming, Seiseth perked up, eyes whirling. Hear that? Flaming! the black said excitedly, shifting from foot to foot. Chelo shushed him with a smile. She did like seeing the normally quiet Black excited, but she didn’t want to fail this lesson.

Once it was their turn, (luckily their straps had only needed a little tightening) Seiseth prepped to take off. Chelo patted his neck reassuringly. “Just be happy it isn’t real Thread,” she said. The black nodded, tensing to spring into the air. Powerful legs propelled the pair into the air and they were soon high above the bowl.

They charred almost all of the first group of “Thread”, thanks to a well aimed jet of flame on Seiseth’s part, blinking /between/ as the remaining “Thread” was about to drop onto the black’s wing. They appeared again a few feet ahead, Chelo already feeding him more hunks of of firestone into Seiseth’s waiting mouth. At the next group of “Thread”, he once again charred a good portion of the “Thread” though what was left dropped onto the pair in tangled mess. They blinked /between/ once more, emerging several feet away, Chelo throwing off the rope that was left as they landed at the end of the course.

“You did well,” Chelo told the black who snorted. I let it land right on you, he said in an annoyed tone. “We weren’t the only ones. Happened to Mesreath’s too and he seems to be trying to kill the rope.”

[4horseshowgirl4]

L'ven had not been exactly social for the past sevenday or so. He was still quite ashamed of what had happened at Nikianeth's Flight, and his method of dealing with it (after apologizing to Lynx, or trying to, at least) was to avoid people completely. He'd been spending as much time as was possible outside of the Weyr. Their Weyrling class was nearing graduation, and they were allowed as much freedom as Weyrlings could, but L'ven didn't think anyone would notice if he flew a little farther away from the Weyr and stayed out for a little longer than he was supposed to. It wasn't like he had anybody keeping tabs on his whereabouts. As always, he'd found solace in his work. Naturally, he was preparing for the upcoming examinations, both the written and physical tests. They'd continue to review the material until they graduated, but they'd almost learned everything they would learn in the classroom.

Mine, Altith calls,

[/color] Valleth said, his voice notably more subdued than its typically bright, cheery tone. The Bronze was a lot touchier and more defensive, quieter and more brooding than he normally was. The Bronze rose to his feet, the move careful, deliberate, and surprisingly graceful, his frame rippling with new, well-developed muscle. The Bronze, too, was burying himself in work. He found it was easier to keep his eyes off of the females when he was exhausted. The Bronze and his 'Rider were still angry with each other slightly, but both knew that they were stuck with each other. They needed each other. They would force their way through this, and, shard it all, they'd do their best to come out on top.

L'ven harnessed Valleth in silence. He planned for this set to last him for a while, since Valleth was all but done growing. He had maybe a few inches more, but that was it. They were hardly fancy, unlike F'let's, but they were strong and durable, plenty well-made. The Bronze knelt onto one foreleg so L'ven could climb up to the top of his neck. That task had grown easier with practice (L'ven remembered his first disastrous attempt, all those months ago, when he'd fallen off and given himself an impressive egg on his head), even though Valleth had almost doubled in size since then. The Bronzepair took off, gliding easily through the air and landing effortlessly among the others. He flicked his eyes side to side, noticing with an inaudible sigh the absence of both Gneith and Callistath. The flirtatious dragon completely ignored Oorth, the only female there so far, and turned his head resolutely towards Altith with uncharacteristic focus.

This seemed like an apt test of their skills, and L'ven was determined to win the mysterious prize, more for the pride of winning than for the prize itself. He was desperate to prove that he still deserved his Wingsecond position despite the Nikianeth catastrophe. He tried to watch the others to see where the pitfalls were happening, but his eyesight was too poor. He relaxed into Valleth's mind, allowing himself to see out of the Bronze's much keener eyes instead of struggling to use his own. Pratyba and Oorth... epic fail. There was no other words for their performance. Durian and Mesreath were much better until Durian was hit by some of the rope and the big, protective Brown grabbed at the rope instead of flaming it. Chelo and Seiseth were excellent, too, until the same thing happened to Chelo.

Valleth stepped forward to go next. L'ven nodded to F'del, who checked his straps. Then, they were off. The Bronze pushed off powerfully, gaining the necessary altitude easily but exerting himself to the fullest to reach his rather unimpressive full speed (both had wished they had had time to warm up-- his muscles were tight and cold). His head whipped around, and L'ven threw eight or nine pieces of firestone the short distance into his great mouth. The ropes began to drop, and the Bronzepair soared over it from above, flaming it as they dived before barrel rolling down and off to the side before wheeling around. They mistimed the turn, though, and were late. They had to scramble to sear the next section of ropes, Valleth's belly nearly brushing the ground as he dove to flame the last few ropes before they hit the ground.

L'ven threw more firestone into Valleth's mouth before they ascended and turned, easily flaming the next section of ropes. However, one of the late clumps hit Valleth's broad back, a few feet in front of his tail base. {Between!} L'ven roared mentally, shoving an image into Valleth's mind. The dragon slipped in and out of between with well-practiced confidence, diving down upon arriving back in the Bowl to eliminate those errant few ropes. Then, they soared back to the group, landing wordlessly, not quite meeting anyone's eye. They shouldn't have been hit by those ropes... shard it all. L'ven sat stiffly on Valleth's back, waiting for the rest of the class to go so he could hear his score. [/right][/font]

[Admin]

And I knew the beat 'cause it matched your own beat,
I still remember it from our chest to chest and feet to feet,
The easy silence then was a sweet relief to this hush,
Of ovens, aeroplanes and of distant car horns.

Life was so dramatic. K'ber and Detritath didn't know why it was so, but they were happily enjoying that sunny day in peace in their weyr. The iron, a hulking beast who had always filled out his form and was now almost grown, sat like a very stocky, ungraceful sphinx across his couch. He watched the bowl without moving, concentrating and mediating. He found that restful, being useful if silent. His dark haired rider busied himself doing chores for himself, like folding and putting away his laundry so that it stayed organized as they liked and cleaning his boots and checking over their riding straps. He worked without words. There wasn't a peep in their weyr, because black Piteous stayed quiet too as he watched them with an airily depressive cheerfulness. They were a solemnly happy and not particularly interesting group all alone.

Detritath rose with a languidness that only had to do with half of his manner. Lesson, Mine; he informed his rider in explanation. Immediately, the weyrling abandoned the clothes he had been messing with and fetched his riding straps from where they had been set out. It was the work of a few moments to get them on and fitted to the iron, but they took the task with an easy patience, knowing exactly how long it would take from steady minds, steady hands, and steady practice. Nearby, Pit looked on at them. He offered a chirp of farewell, not moving, as Detritath finally knelt and K'ber swung up with the help of the straps. He smiled at the little flitter. He settled on his dragon's back, merely gripping the straps before they were in the air, surging off the ledge at the front of their weyr. Across the bowl, they glided with a few forceful flaps, towards a splattered purple.

The pair landed near Altith, with the others, and listened with attentive interest as the purple and F'del explained the little competition they were participating in for their lesson. He watched the others go. They were certainly interesting. Pratyba and Oorth got confused, failed miserably, and managed to turn it into joke. K'ber smiled faintly at them. Mesreath got quite angry partway through and attempted to attack the thread. He winced slightly from the watching. Seiseth and Chelo did well. He smiled for them. Then L'ven and Valleth stepped up and he stopped paying attention. Detritath kept watching, but he didn't say anything. Finally, the bronze and his rider were done. They finally stepped up, taking their piece. Their straps were perfectly fine, as Detritath expected. He would've been displeased at any other way for them.

K'ber settled back in the straps, making sure he was secure and settling the bag of firestone they had. Once he was set, Detritath launched them into the air. It wasn't the most comfortable sensation, the feeling of all of their weight being force off the ground, but he had grown used to it. They rose at a steady rate. Flame. We can't dodge. We have to flame; he advised. It was no concern or insult to his dragon's ability. It was simple fact, and they both accepted it without protest. Having finally reached a proper height, the iron swept his wings back, surging forward in a burst to begin the test, or to fly forward should it have already began either way. For a moment, he hovered, turning his head, after the flurry of motion, suspending in the air as his wings paused. Then K'ber slipped firestone into his mouth with an image in his mind. He took them into between.

They appeared a fraction of an inch forward of where they had been. Detritath turned his head around as he swept his wings down, taking more firestone into his mouth to chew and digest. Two more pieces, and he could feel the pressure building in his second stomach. He struck off forward with great speed, digging his wings into the air to power himself forward. He didn't have to wait. Thread was falling. He adjusted his wings, turned his body slightly, tilted back his head, and flamed. Power and control. It was what he was. It was what he had. The ropes were burned to a crisp, falling to the ground even more harmlessly than they would have before. He closed his mouth, containing the urge to just keep flaming. More thread fell. He let out another burst, charring it as he past. K'ber threw more firestone, which he caught. Perfect timing.

More fell. More was flamed. The track lay long ahead of them, but it grew shorter with each beat of his wings and each ounce of their fixed concentration that was taxed upon in their firm focus on the contest. The air held steady about them. It was best. They weren't the best in wind. They managed well, because it wasn't a normal problem for a sturdy dragon such as him, but unpredictability wasn't what they were looking for then. It only took a moment of foreshadowing, the passing of one of the riders that was playing at being the Red Star, and they had all of it. They kept to the path. They flew steadily, going right and left as needed but they added no flourishes or details. Firestone was passed effectively and quickly, but not with any drama. They weren't a dramatic pair. They charred a new group of the ropes out of existence. Another clump fell.

A gust of wind. The tangle shifted. Detritath let forth a burst of flame, but it only caught half of the clump of rope that was descending upon them. He rolled to the side, arching his wings, trying to dodge. It was one stray strand of the imaginary thread. Two, in truth. They just brushed against his neck, only the ends of them, though they still hung sharply against his hide. He was painfully aware of their brush, as if it were a real burn. It would have left a small scar in real life, but it just left him with a slight feeling. His reaction probably would have been much the same. He wasn't one to change. Obedient to the rules and quick at it, he disappeared, dragging the scraps that had touched him with him into nothing. The others he had missed fell towards the ground, a little clump of tan on green. Missed evasion. Missed thread. A pesky mistake.

A breath later, the iron appeared again, exactly where he had been, with his rider still proudly mounted on his back. They weren't out of the running yet. I told you that we can't dodge; K'ber commented mildly. He wasn't fazed. His hand was already digging into the firestone, pulling out pieces that were the right size. Detritath's head swept around to accept them. He didn't appear to hear, except for an invisible eagerness to show that he could. His head snapped back around as he rolled sideways. A clump, thrown in their time between, was near the ground. He let loose a torrent. Control kept it thin, but it fanned out wide. Her tipped his head back slightly and thrust his wings down, to avoid charring the ground more than was necessary and to launch himself back up. More thread was falling. He cut off the flame, and then let it loose again.

The end neared. One more clump. More firestone was passed between them. Again, they disappeared between. They appeared forward, and turned around. They had the image from a back sweep at another of the clumps. No doubt was allowed to pass. They simply acted. The tangle that had been above and far from them before was close and below. He opened his maw and let the rest of the flame loose in a tight sweep, beating his wings down carefully. The fire was exhausted, and the thread was gone. He dipped down to the finish. He didn't land lightly. He thudded into the ground. His landings still needed work, but K'ber didn't comment at all. He gave his dragon a warm pat on the shoulder. They had done better than Pratyba and Oorth or Durian and Mesreath. They had stuck to what they were supposed to do.

Their easy to expect performance over with, Detritath paused under his rider's mute praise, and then he headed back towards the others. They had done well. They had performed with the excellence that the iron expected. They had performed with all the perfection they could hope for at that point. It was acceptable. It was passable. It didn't please the iron, but he wasn't easy to please. He was neutral to it. Next time, they would do better. The next time after that, they would do better. It would get harder. They would succeed. Feeling the firm resolve of such ideas, K'ber patted the iron on the shoulder again in mute agreement as he settled back amongst the others. He wasn't bothered by their performance. He was pleased. He hadn't been hit by any thread. That had to be good. Detritath let out a breath of air in a puff.

A fire a fire, you can only take what you can carry,
A pulse your pulse, it's the only thing I can remember,
I break you don't, I was always set to self destruct though,
The fire the fire, it cracks and barks like primal music.

[Nia]

It was one of Avalle's rare relaxation days, a day where she was content just sleeping away on her cot. It had been a long night and she was tired, so she'd slept in far later than she usually did. Callistath was dozing off, though she would wake up occassionally, only to drop back asleep again. The last few days had been hectic as Avalle took some last-minute prepartions in becoming a Jr. Weyrwoman. It was exciting and she hadn't been able to get to sleep very easily, so that was why she valued her sleep when she could get it. Yulari was curled up by Avalle's head, her tail lightly on the girl's neck, where her necklace was as well. She'd learned her lesson and was not going to take it off any time soon. Sharding scavenger hunt! It'd been all rather amusing to Avalle (especially Fajra getting stuck to her bed) until they stole her sharding necklace! She couldn't forgive that. But now she was just never going to take it off ever again. And that solved that problem.

Altith's call for the Weyrlings had been a bit of a wakeup call for Callistath, who opened her eyes the moment the Purple called for them. Mine, lesson. It is time to get up,

[/i] the Gold's voice was still regal sounding even when she was just waking up, and it was easily able to rouse Avalle from her dreams. Ahh man... why'd it have to be today of all days, she whined, but instead of crawling back under the furs she got up and began to get changed. It didn't take long, and soon they were off to where F'del and the rest of the Weyrlings were waiting for them. Yulari had decided to go do something on her own today, as she didn't think she'd be very welcome at a Weyrling lessons. Smart firelizard.

A contest? Avalle grinned. She could totally do this. She liked working the flamethrower. It occassionaly confused her and it was heavy, but it was fun. Like she was a dragon herself! Callistath rumbled lightly at this childish way of thinking. I know I am large, but I can avoid thread just as easily as the smaller ones,[/i] Callistath said, sounding confident. Or maybe that was just the Gold's natural arrogance seeping through, though really, Callistath didn't flaunt her ego nearly as much as the average Gold, which Avalle was pretty happy about. It was usually Avalle that ended up playfully flaunting her ego, though she was rarely serious about it. Anyway, the two watched as others volunteered to go, waiting for the oportune time for the two of them to take their turn. Pratyba and Oorth's was a really great started, and Avalle laughed in good-nature at the pair. They were rather funny... when they weren't stealing her sharding necklace.

The Brown and Kings went soon after, though obviously not all at once. Callistath paid close attention to Detritath and Valleth, and even Mesreath's abilities. After the two Kings were done, Avalle and Callistath stepped up to go. Avalle had a very serious look on her face, and she quickly made sure their straps were fine, that her flamethrower was full of agenothree and was finally ready to go. She hoisted up the flamethrower and looked out at the "thread". You're big... we're going to have to between a lot. But we can do this, Avalle said, sounding serious. I am aware. We can do this.[/i] Both of them were rather competitive, but Avalle was more than Callistath. The Gold immediately took off, her propotionate wings easily able to catch the air and start. They didn't have to pause for firestone. Avalle readied her flamethrower and fired it at the first piece of thread that caught her eye, burning it. She didn't cheer for herself as she normally would have, her focus was unwavering.

Callistath flicked between to avoid a piece of falling "thread", and Avalle quickly flamed the pieces in front of them. So far, so good. Callistath was going into between a lot to avoid the thread. She was very large and it was difficult for the two of them, as turning and quick movements ended up making them almost get hit rather than avoid it. Avalle was sure Callistath's tail or the ends of her wings were grazed a few times, but each time they would just go immediately between to avoid further "damage" and pop right back out so Avalle could char more of the falling strands. Callistath would also instruct Avalle on the little details she would miss, as while Avalle was pretty good at seeing the large picture, she tended to miss quite a few details. Lucky for her, Callistath didn't. Sit up straighter. Lift the flamethrower more. Move it to the left a bit. No, your other left. Stop slouching, you'll miss. Keep your aim steady.[/i]

Avalle grew more confident in her flaming abilities as they continued on, thanks to Callistath's assistance, and of course she had faith in Callistath's abilities to take her mind sent images and immediately go between as soon as a piece of unavoidable thread came their way, but then Avalle would twist and sear all that she could get, to help Callistath out and not make the Gold have to turn her large body around as much. They let a few pieces fall, and Avalle winced each time she missed. Her arms were getting pretty tired, but she wasn't about to give up that easily. It was much harder for her to flame thread than a dragon, as she wasn't naturally equipped to do something like that. But she was doing fairly well, or at least she hoped so. She was clearly at the biggest disadvantage out of everyone, but that didn't really matter.

By the time they reached the end of the track, Avalle had only let a few strands hit the ground and missed more completely, but it wasn't bad. I... think we did pretty well, all things considering, Avalle commented, finally relaxing her arms and putting the flamethrower down. Yes. I believe so.[/i] No match for Valleth and Detritath though, huh? Avalle had meant to say it as more of a teasing thing for Callistath, as since Avalle's affection was out of the equation, the winner of the Gold's flight was going to be entirely the dragon's choice, but it came out sounding a bit sad. For a fleeting moment, Avalle envied those able to fight thread with their dragon and not a lousy flamethrower. But it was very brief. She had her job, and they had theirs. That's all there was to it.[/blockquote][/size]

[kia]

Final lessons... The end of a beginning and beginning of an end... They all seemed entwined with each other, like two dragons in the sky, dancing to the feelings of dragon Flight. Neither one of them could scarcely believe that just over a Turn ago, their lives would forever be changed in more ways than one. If they could, if they thought about it, if they knew, would they go back in time to change some things, even if they were minor. One would say no, the other might think about before saying no. They were... happy.

Mine! We graduate soon! Gneith said joyfully when Altith and F`del explained their last lesson.

Lynx smiled at her dragon. "But we have to pass this lesson first," she said quietly, waiting for F`del and Altith to finish explaining themselves.

Well, Lynx was not about to wait to be last. She wanted to graduate now and be able to flirt with K`ber and L`ven like she properly could. That was... She looked over at L`ven, eyeing him carefully. She was done crying, done being mad, done with being upset in general. She really wanted to believe him, that he could keep Valleth from chasing other dragons except Callistath. But, that was not fair for him to say to her. If Gneith did not choose Valleth, Valleth would more than likely go after other females, thus forcing Gneith to realize that she could only have one male of her choice. But, if she chose Valleth, what about K`ber and her? Could they be friends. She was and was not looking forward to Gneith`s first Flight. She sighed.

Come on, Lynx! Time to begin! But, I will protect you! Thread is not funny and I do not want to lose you, Gneith chimed in again.

Lynx checked over her straps while others took to the sky first. She tightened them, almost a little too tightly, as she watched K`ber and L`ven take to the air. Gneith had to gently tell her to loosen the strap a little or else it was going to chaff her. Lynx quickly apologized and tied the bag of firestone to her saddle. She got on and waited till she had the all clear from F`del before taking to the air.

I will not drop you, Mine. Besides, this is a good chance for me to show off how graceful in the air I am thanks to you. I will make Valleth see that chasing that Orange was not needed!

Oh? Are you choosing Valleth as your winner now? Lynx said, picking on her Green.

No! I am going to make him realize that he should wait till I Rise before going to chase other females! And Gneith was off, faster than many of the dragons thanks to Lynx constant desire for her dragon to be the fastest in her class.

The first layers of "Thread" began to fall, and Lynx quickly threw a piece of firestone to Gneith. The Green caught the stone mid-air and chewed it quickly, swallowing, and letting the bleches of flames rise from her throat. She flamed the first set with ease, blowing out fire from her throat. It was still not a beautiful thread of flame like Altith had produced in lessons, but at least it was not shooting out sporadically.

It started to become tougher. They were throwing out multiple sets of rope, trying to mimic clumps of Thread that would be falling. Gneith flew low, flaming the first clump before it could barely touch the end of her wingsail. She quickly betweened, coming out under the other clump. It was heading straight for them.

"Gnieth!"

The dragon was fast. She raised her head and released a jet-flame that seared the ropes, turning it to ashes and falling around Lynx and Gneith. Lynx felt her heart thump in her chest. But she would talk to Gneith later about this little trick. Gneith had done this on purpose to impress Valleth and Detritath.

Mine! Pay attention!

Lynx turned her head and had Gneith fly straight. She was almost to the end. She looked around to make sure that they had not missed any ropes as they flew across the bowl, searing the ropes that were in her initial view. It was a good thing she did. In the corner of her eyes, she caught a rogue clump heading straight for the ground. Gneith instantly blinked between again, coming out near the clump and flaming it, this time she did not pull the same trick. Despite almost having near misses, they had flamed every single rope. Lynx was pleased. But, she knew near misses were not good. They would have to improve. But that was wing drills would be for, right?

Gneith moved to land on the ground, landing with more gentle grace than when they first tried flying. The woman slide off the Green`s back and patted Gneith. "It is over, I hope. And I will never have to listen to that man call me by someone else`s name," she said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhyolith and Lira combined had to wake him up this morning. O`ris had not slept well, tossing and turning, dreaming about something, muttering incoherent words, jolting awake, drenched in cold sweat. Rhyolith was very concerned for him, but O`ris had simply told her it had been a nightmare. It had been a nightmare to him. He dreamt that Callistath had been caught by some male, and O`ris had been too late to get to Avalle`s weyr, and she had been forced to bed with some random Rider. He felt his heart drop. He would be there when she needed him, no matter how minor or how much. He was scared of just losing her. He never thought he was capable of falling in love, but Avalle had proven that wrong. He had fallen in love with her. He would hold onto her. He wanted to be her weyrmate.

O`ris was rather slow moving, the small, dark circles under his eyes to prove how tired he was. And this was their final lesson to make things worst. He quickly excused himself to head to the dining halls first to grab a cup of klah, figuring the warm drink with wake him long enough to flame thread and pass this final lesson. He managed to return in time to watch Avalle take to the skies. She was gorgeous, she and Callistath both. He could feel pride rising inside of him. He was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world, and even Pern seemed to acknowledge that, having chosen her to be Dalibor Weyr`s Jr. Weyrwoman.

Soon, it was their turn. After Gneith had landed, Rhyolith was quickly checked by F`del. Their straps looked fine, though they had to make sure that it would be strong enough to support O`ris while riding. After being given the kind word of advice, they were in the air. Even Lirahad joined the pair in the sky, but O`ris already explained to the little Green that she could only watch and not help. O`ris and Rhyolith had to pass without help from Lira this time.

The first wave came down. Rhyolith decided to between already so she could move closer to the ropes. O`ris had fed her a chunk of firestone before they had risen into the air, and the Cyan was ready to let the flames loose from her throat. The flame came out perfectly, something the Cyan was very prideful about. Her eyes whirled with slight green in them as she watched the ashes fall to the ground.

She then turned to head for the next set of ropes. She dove down to the ground, flaming each one in order as she passed them. She glanced up and saw the next clump being dumped into the air. Again, she betweened so she could flame it immediately. She could have just flown in the air and met the ropes half-way, but that was like giving Thread a small chance to get closer to the ground and destory the plant and animal life below her. Thread was to not be given such a chance, so that was how she was treating these ropes.

But Rhyolith found it easier to flame the ropes from mid-air, getting no where close to the ground, but not going to high. There was a few times that a piece of rope would get close to O`ris or Rhyolith`s foot, but the Cyan seemed to dodge these with some slight ease. Rholith was definately built a bit more studier than her other Cyan sisters. She was not the fastest, but she had enough body strength to last a little longer in air than an avergae Green, Pink, or Cyan.

Rhyolith caught the last clump of rope before it could hit the ground. The Cyan bugled happily as the they came to the end. O`ris smiled and was quickly brought to attention of Lira`s frantic chirping. She sent an image of her flying and some rope landing on her before she betweened to get it off of her. She was trying to apologize for letting it happen to her, knowing that O`ris and Rhyolith had wanted to do this on their own. The man chuckled. "It was an accident, Lira. I understand. I am not angry with you. You were doing what came natural to you."

I believe Altith and F`del would understand, Rhyolith chimed in. How can they penalize us for a Fire Lizard`s natural instincts? Besides, I believe we did a good job today, O`risMine. If we do not pass, I will actually be very surprised, she added, twisting her head around to gently touch his cheek with the tip of her hand. O`ris` smile grew. He was so grateful to be surrounded by a caring dragon, Fire Lizard, and (he hoped) the woman of his dreams.

[fidelli]

Four people need to post yet - F'let, Kyrillion, Sol, and R'ori. When that happens, F'del will post with scores, his grading rubric, and the winner of the prize. XD

Nim, as she so much more preferred to be called, was up and cleaning her room when the call came. The little white - who wasn't that little anymore, despite his color, popped his head into her room and locked on to her, happy as always. MINE! GUESS WHAT? She paused in her folding of clothing to walk over to his head, carefully scratching his eyeridges. "What, Zuchie?" Over his happy thrum, he kept talking. We have a lesson! A pause in her scratching, and then she continued. "Oh." The White laughed in her mind, a curious child-like sound that just felt like innocence and happiness. It is a good lesson! We will need our riding straps.

She lifted an eyebrow but went to fetch them anyway - you didn't argue with the White that seemed to know anything. He wasn't small anymore - the smallest dragon in the weyr besides Noyth, yes, but he was still bigger than the biggest runner, and almost seventeen feet was nothing to be ashamed of. He was almost done growing - when Nim had asked A'mor he had guessed he would touch seventeen feet, and be done. He was still tiny, but she didn't mind that - he was Her's. She put the carefully made straps on Zuchie - her second pair, since she had really really hated the first sloppy job she had done - and tightened them to perfection before swinging on him and letting him take off.

He made his way over to the barracks where they were still having lessons, and settled down next to Pratyba and Oorth, quivering with excitement that he had no problem sharing. Nim, patting him to keep him calm, settled down and listened to F'del. "Well, that doesn't seem that hard." She said to Zuchie a few moments later, handing Pratyba a piece of extra leather she usually tied on Zuchie's harness. But inside, she was worrying. Despite Zuchie making her nearly forget every day that he was indeed blind, he was - how would they pass? She worried about this as the other's went, one by one, and it was Zuchie who paid attention to the weyrlings and rider's above, Zuchie who figured out how they would do it.

Mine. The Thread - each rider up above, they drop the ropes in no order, but they each think it carefully! We can do this - it is alright. We will go Altith! Nim - trailing her eager dragon with a worried look on her face, caught F'del's eye as he checked Zucherroth's straps. "Don't worry about it Nim - just go through, and we'll go slower for him." That caught her off guard, and angry. "No! We can do this - Tell them. Tell them just the same as all the others! We are just as good!" And in her passionate anger, she leapt aboard Zuchie and sent him aloft even before she was done tying herself in.

Fix that first, please. She did, quickly, and the elegantly wheeling dragonet set off. First, the pieces of firestone, one, two, three, four, five, six he managed before swinging his head back around. She stood in her harness, watching everything at once, as the blind White flew, her stomach sick from worry. And then the Thread began. She pointed it out to Zuchie, bit by bit, as the cascaded down - several times she had to yell duck, left, or right, and at one point he closed his wings so fast that they dropped ten feet in the air so that the thread would not brush them. She was beginning to feel better about it - but they had only just started.

The thread's began to drop faster, and she began to send Zuchie between more often, one after another, trying to make sure that he didn't get marked. They let some drop, and everyone that passed them made her get more angry, until she got distracted letting them pass. Zuchie was getting tired, and they both missed the Brownrider above them drop the clump of rope - it landed right on Zuchie's neck, and he disappeared between with a chilling cold that had nothing to do with the bone biting cold of Between. As they popped back out he was moving slower, his stamina nothing like the bigger dragons, and he said quietly, Altith's had called us in - that injury would have been too much for me.

He landed gently, stone gray eyes turning to her as though he could see properly. Do not feel sad, AnimatamoraMine. We did well enough. But she only shook off her helmet, running a hand through her hair and scowling. She could have killed him... They weren't ready to fight in Thread, and with a sinking feeling started to believe that they never would.

[kyrillion]

A warm, pleasant spring morning greeted the bluepair, and Kyrillion was more than content to spend some time lounging on their ledge with Ripariath, soaking up the sun and drifting in and out of sleep. Even Warren, much bigger already than he'd been at Shanza's hatching, did not feel any pressure to be about and socializing; sprawled across his human's shoulders, he was snoring softly. Kyril wasn't sure what time it was, exactly, when she felt her dragon stir beside her, but she perceived that he was listening intently to something. She waited, patient, and after a moment he informed her of Altith's summons. We are called to a lesson, KyrillionMine.[/color] He said sedately, rising to his feet and taking a moment to stretch sleepy muscles. Our riding straps - the nice ones?[/color].

I'm on it, Rip. Kyril assured him, amused, as she levered herself to her feet and hurried into their weyr. Warren, yawning tremendously and bemused by the sudden flurry of activity, demanded a quick pat before settling contentedly on one shoulder. Always one to keep things organized, if not by a system anyone else understood, it took only a moment for Kyril to locate their best straps; the ones she had devoted the most time to. Not recently, of course; her still-injured (but thankfully nearly healed) arm made it difficult to do much in the way of crafting, but she had been nearly finished with them before the accident. They would do; they would keep her safely a-dragonback, at least. Hurrying back out onto the ledge, Warren helped the temporarily one-armed weyrling prepare the straps, and then the trio were winging down into the bowl to join their classmates.

If the obstacle course was any indication, this would surely be their most difficult lesson yet. After giving a brief greeting to F'del, and to the weyrlings nearst them, both the blue and his rider turned their undivided attention to the matter at hand. Listening attentively to instructions, the challenge awoke in each of them their characteristic, steely determination; it would be a difficult task, but they would do their best to conquer it.

Patient in this as in all things, no words were needed for the pair to decide to let their classmates precede them. They had no qualms about going last, and it was interesting in any case to watch each of their classmates go before them. Some did better than others - though Kyril was privately of the mind that Pratyba and Oorth should get some extra points for ingenuity. When it came to be Gneith and Detritath's turns, Ripariath watched his friends with a touch of worry and undisguised happiness; they both did very well, and he was pleased to see them succeed.

Soon enough, though, their turn came around. Waiting only long enough to allow F'del to inspect the straps, Ripariath took to the sky eagerly. He and His had always loved flying together, and even now went out to practice as frequently as they were able. He was meant for this! He had always strived to be a stronger, faster flier; now he had the opportunity to see the benefit of long hours of practice. More confident, for once, than his rider, he took a moment to circle above the group - both to get his own blood pumping, and to allow Kyril to get properly situated with just the one arm, and into a position where she could still toss him firestone when needed.

Once that was accomplished, Ripariath wheeled around and headed for the course. Tucking his wings in to gain some momentum, he waited until he saw the first group of ropes begin to fall before he turned to accept the firestone Kyril had already fetched from the bag. By the time he turned back around, he could feel the familiar pressure building up behind his throat, and as the rope neared he let loose a burst of flame - not very well-controlled, but there were signs of at least some improvement since the last lesson. And all the time, he tried to maintain a close connection with his rider; he viewed them as one, in this. That was one of her rules - when you have a team, work as a team. Every decision was as much hers as it was his.

The first clump successfully seared, he spun easily towards the next, soaring effortlessly up to meet it. Another burst of flame, another cloud of ashes. The next group was a bit further away - a perfect opportunity to between. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Guided by his, he blinked easily out-of-sight.

And realized, upon re-appearing, that they had slightly misjudged the distance, and his own speed, and had placed themselves directly beneath the 'thread'. Spinning hastily out of the way, turning almost completely sideways in the air, he just managed to avoid being hit - but though he turned the panicked maneuver into a barrel roll, and whipped furiously around just as soon as he was right-side-up again, he was not in time to prevent the thread from hitting the ground.

Pumping his wings to gain more altitude, ignoring his frustration at the behest of his rider, he accepted more firestone and went after the next clump. This one he successfully seared. And the next. And the next, though he got a bit out-of-order somewhere along the way and had to backtrack, executing some hasty, last-minute aerobatics to keep them off the ground.

Realizing they were nearing the end of the course, and needed to between a second time, Kyril looked ahead to the next 'clump', and sent her blue the picture. This time, they reappeared just past the falling rope, and Ripariath wheeled easily around to incinerate it. This time, however, the flame was a bit more erratic than it had been before; though most of the rope burned up, several pieces fell across the blue's back, and one brushed past Kyril's shoulder harmlessly as it fell.

Between! Kyril ordered instantly, blinking ash out of her eyes and shoving an image to Rip of a clear pocket several meters to their left. The blue obeyed, and reappeared without further incident, eyes churning unhappily. There were only two more 'clumps of thread' left, and with a stubborn bugle and a few more pieces of firestone, Ripariath attacked them, keeping his motions a bit slower than before, but infinitely more fluid and graceful. The flame, over which he made an effort to exercise some more control, obeyed and incinerated the rope completely.

Finished with the course, Ripariath gladly gained some altitude and let the caress of the wind soothe the adrenaline rush and his frustration. Kyril, sitting up straight and looking thoughtfully back at the course, patted his neck affectionately.

We did fine, Rip. One clump of rope on the ground, one pseudo-injury -
It was not fine! I could not keep it controlled. It felt far too -[/color]
Hectic? I know, and I didn't like it, either. But we pulled it together at the end; and it was our first try, love. We'll get better.
We will have to. I did not like that at all.[/color]

A bit broody, but nevertheless consoled by his rider, Ripariath swung lightly back around and returned to the group to await their final scores.

[Kila]

Mine, Altith calls us. It is time for our last lesson, Eccolath reported. Sol started. At first she had never been awake for their lessons. Not having to get up painfully early at her father’s bidding after being whisked away to the Weyr had allowed her the novel sport of sleeping. Rooming with Pratyba had only encouraged the habit: stay up late, make a mess, sleep in late too. When she and Eccolath had moved into their own weyr and their lessons had been more consistent she had been able to rise early with little trouble. Once the habit got rolling it was easy either way. After the death of her classmates, which had been traumatic for everyone, they had not had lessons for a gaping amount of time and her schedule had begun to slip despite her best efforts. Without some motivation to rise, the ides just didn’t stick. Now she awoke from a light doze to Eccolath’s news. She had gotten up as expected, taken breakfast, and rested outside to avoid being near the trap that was her own bed. The warm summer sun had done the trick just fine, though.

Last? she inquired, startled. It couldn’t really be their last lesson, could it? Why, they hadn’t even learned how to….. What haven’t we learned? We are ready! Pern is ready for us, Eccolath said dreamily, her thoughts instantly beginning to shift and evolve into fantastic things. Whoa, come back, love, don’t leave me now, Sol cautioned, sensing this and getting to her feet. He could see Altith and F’del across the Bowl as well as her other classmates beginning to gather. I need you to be focused for this, I’m sure it will be important. We can’t afford to have your head in the clouds. Sol wanted to continue feeling sentimental about this being the last lesson, but the overwhelming, conditioned urge to report to her Weyrlingmaster was far stronger.

Eccolath and Sol went over to the others eagerly, intruged by the set-up and the arrival of some of the other, older riders. What did F’del have in store for them today? Sol had to constantly pull Eccolath back into the present as she looked at the ropes and firestone and course and riders and speculated. Everyone fell respectively silent when F’del spoke and revealed their task. There was no room for sentimentality here either; the man plunged almost directly into their task and the Weyrlings were soon consumed by it- planning, strategizing, figuring out exactly what they would need to do. How exciting! Sol thought of the mock thread course. Those threadropes won’t stand a chance against my flames, Eccolath said with a growl. She was playing, of course, but not completely, and Sol was surprised by her intensity. She did not connect this to the fact that Pern’s dragons were born and bred to fight thread. Even inside their shells, little dragonetts knew their arch enemies. In addition to that most basic instinct, Eccolath was a Cyan- the newest color on Pern with an endless amount to prove. Eccolath was a daydreamer for sure, but that only meant that she had an infinite amount of ideas and plans to put into practice. They did not know it then, but the pair would never be without some sort of strategy or plan of action. Eccolath could think about things and solve problems in a creative way that the other colors could not. She did not speak it, but she planned to show everyone what her color and caste was capable of. She would show Pern, bear up her rider, glorify her Weyr, and make her sires proud.

But before all that was this test.

”We’ll go next! Sol volunteered eagerly. She turned and began to make hasty, final adjustments to Eccolath’s straps. She too had come a long way. Oveth and B’nyur had found her at the Gather and saved her from her dismal, ill-suited life. She had known almost nothing about dragons then, and had progressed a lot from a terrible apprentice Baker to the fine, dragon-riding young lady that she was now. But she was still not good at putting on straps. “Almost there, but not quite,” F’del said kindly when he inspected them. “I know Eccolath doesn’t like them, Sol, but you need to practice harnessing her properly. It is of utmost importance that you are safe when you’re in the air.” Sol could feel a very slight sullen feeling from Eccolath as the Cyan regarded their Weyrlingmaster with one big, whirling eye as he fixed small degrees of her straps. Eccolath indeed did not like the straps. They were restrictive and uncomfortable and she wandered far too much to be contained. ”I will,” Sol promised, hopping onto Eccolath’s back when he was finished. ”Thank you, F’del!”

So they began with a disadvantage in number of points at the start- no one else had had problems with their straps that they had seen- but neither was discouraged. Sol closed her eyes and relished the sensation of flying, of being in the air and feeling the wind rush past her, but was buoyed even higher than usual by Eccolath’s positive determination. It was not that the Cyan was not serious, but she was most often preoccupied with wonder or thought. Sol rarely felt her so focused as she was now, and with her own resolve a feeling of power coursed through them. Ready? Ready.

The pair began. They course was shorter than the larger dragons because Eccolath was a fighter, but the distance before them seemed like many dragonlengths. Nor was their attention at all on the ground, for their enemy was falling with false menace through the air in front of them. As the Rider above them dropped the first piece of rope, Eccolath honed in on it and swooped towards it, surging upward gracefully and char it away before it had even reached their beginning level. Sol marveled at her bonded’s motions. At her hatching Eccolath had appeared every bit the dainty ballerina, and was mirroring it perfectly today in the air. Perhaps she did not have as much occasion to make full use of her range of movements that Sol had not remembered her grace. While the hatching show had been frivolous play, Eccolath moved now with the dead precision and skill of a hunter and killer. That she could do such a dangerous thing with such beauty amazed Sol. Mine. And unspoken, unusual command to focus. Sol did.

The course got harder as more and more mock thread was dropped upon them. Sol found that the large clumps, though more dangerous to be hit by, were easier to flame because of their density. She could feel that Eccolath felt strongly against letting a single thread pass them and drop to the ground, and Sol wondered what her bonded would do if it was necessary. The answer came close to the end when the fall was thick. Careful! Sol warned as Eccolath headed straight towards a thick patch. I will not hit it all if I go to a side, she replied calmly, opening her mouth for more firestone. Sol silenced and complied, trusting the instincts of her dragon warily. Eccolath flamed, strong, but the patch was very thick. One piece grazed the tip of her wing. BETWEEN! Sol roared, the element of fear she expected to be there if this happened conspicuously absent. The air was no place for fear. Eccolath between instantly and reappeared with a roar of her own. She folded her wings and dove to catch the remaining pieces of rope that were falling to the ground. Don’t go too low! Sol warned, hanging tightly to her neck and casting an eye over her shoulder. Sure enough, the Riders were already dropping their last pieces. Eccolath flamed the remains neatly and arched her back so that she moved smoothly into a climb. She was met with yet more thread that was almost upon her and had to between again to avoid it. The period of cold was very brief, and they came out almost exactly where they had gone. Eccolath spun and nixed the ropes with a sense of agile satisfaction. The last clump was easy, for they were now at the end, and Eccolath landed with a little hop.

”Eccolath you were amazing!!!” Sol cried loudly, leaping off her back and falling onto the grass without dignity. She had not realized how fiercely her legs had been clamped to Eccolath’s side and now they were weak as she was weak with excitement. Eccolath bugled nuzzled Hers on the ground. Adrenaline still pumped through both of them like blood. You are wonderful! I am so proud of you! Sol crowed, hugging her bonded’s muzzle tightly. I love you, Ecco! We did it! I love you too, MineOwn! she replied gaily. Looking back out over the course they found one piece of half-charred rope on the ground that Eccolath had failed to completely destroy, and she had been grazed in an almost vital place, but neither cared. They were high on life. They could practice and they would practice. For now, this was enough of a success. Soon they would no longer be Weyrlings.

[fidelli]

F'del and Altith were confident in their class... And had no right to be. As they finished speaking, the pair waited patiently for the Weyrlings to step up, and they did not disappoint. Pratyba - the headache of his Weyrlingmasterhood - stepped up first, and he approached Oorth with a cheerfulness that he had no reason for. Especially after her less than graceful landing - right at his feet before the lesson. He did admire her enthusiasm though, as she yelled, 'WE'RE FIRST!' But, as he came closer, and took a really good look at the straps, his forehead creased, and the Rider opened his mouth to deny them Flighttime. She cut him off, however. 'I know, I know! I swear I was fixing them right before you called the lesson! I'll be fine! Okay, bye!' The Weyrlingmaster watched, perplexed as she threw herself aboard the Pink and took off - but he wasn't Weyrlingmaster for nothing.

In a flash he had vaulted aboard the Purple, crossing the distance in record time, and the dragon took off into the air faster than a slingshot. F'del paid no mind to his own straps - he had been doing it so long that his fingers obeyed as his mind watched the girl, readying Altith to catch her if necessary. I will not let her drop, F'delMine. Do not be silly! He did relax, as they went through the lesson, although the board with paper's tied around it at the top did get several notes as Pratyba and Oorth made their fantastic debut. He didn't even bother to yell Out - something made him think that even if he did, the pair would not listen.

He suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

As they landed, finally, he and Altith followed - F'del, trying to figure out whether to laugh or cry, and Altith, amused but chiding. Oorth, if the rope was indeed Thread, I do not believe that that would have passed. But - it was a fun show to watch. However, you are NOT to fly again until Your's has new straps, and if I must have Kalith verify that order, I will.

The Purple nudged her with his nose, lessening the blow of his words, and laughed in her mind. It was an excellent try.

Durian and Mesreath were next, and F'del felt so much better that their straps were nice and very well made. He sent them up with a nod and a small grin, and let Altith rise behind them, following them. They did well - until Mesreath's temper got the better of him, and he attacked the thread. F'del felt his palm connect with his forehead, and he let Altith glide down to confront the Brown that was his own size now - though he did not get too close to the Brown. It is alright, Mesreath. I do not think that the rope will hurt Your's anymore. The Purple was rather amused, actually, and F'del dropped down as well to nod. "It was well done, Durian. Don't fret."

The next pair were Chelo and Seiseth, and as they walked forward F’del smiled encouragingly at them. He checked the straps, and told her, “Just tighten them a little,” And then they were off. He watched, jotting down notes as Altith checked on Seiseth, and as they landed with them nodded. “Good job, you two. It was well flown.”

The next pair were L’ven and Valleth, and F’del gave them a smile as he ran his hands over the straps. Excellent set, and both seemed… Quieter. Hmm. He gave them the nod, and followed behind. It was a clean run, and as they landed, F’del gripped L’ven’s shoulder. “It was good.”

And of course, right after L’ven was K’ber. F’del sighed to himself, quietly. Always the competitive pair, the two, for everything. He ran through the straps, finding absolutely nothing wrong with them… But he expected that. He sent them aloft, and followed after. It was the performance he expected out of the two, and Altith sent a curl of pleasure to the Iron, his own A for the performance.

The Queenrider was next, and F’del gave her a nod as he ran a hand over her straps. All was good there – he wasn’t surprised. Off they went, the Weyrlingmaster pair watching close behind. When they landed, F’del was right there, and Altith nudged the Golden Queen, pleased. “You did fantastic. You did the same amount of work as L’ven and K’ber, Weyrling.” A wink, and he let the next pair step forward.

It was Laura and Gneith next, and F’del let the Green point out the few mistakes, smiling at her and gesturing up. He and Altith both disaporved of the Green’s showoffy ways, and as they landed, F’del caught her. “Laura, you have to make sure that she doesn’t show off as much for the males. It’s distracting, and you could both get seriously hurt.” Altith was giving much the same speech. You are being silly, trying to get them to notice you, and it should not happen again. We will not allow you to Fly Thread if you do not learn to control yourselves.

And the next pair were Rhyolith and O`ris. O’ris, the one who had a crush on the Goldrider. Oy vay, he didn’t see that working out. He was a Cyan rider, and she… She was a Goldrider, destined for Senior Weyrwoman one day. They stepped forward, then, and F’del checked their straps. They were a little on the thin side, and he cautioned them of it, but followed them to the skies dutifully. Lira getting in the way only made him shrug, and he nodded to O’ris afterwards. “Nicely done. Just send that firelizard of yours away next lesson, alright?”

The next pair were… Nim and Zucherroth. He nodded to her as she plowed forward, and ran his hands over Zucherroth’s straps, but paused. “Don't worry about it Nim - just go through, and we'll go slower for him." He hadn’t expected her response, but should have. ‘No! We can do this - Tell them. Tell them just the same as all the others! We are just as good!’ He was already reaching out to stop Altith, but the Purple just rose in the air, having already talked to the dragon’s above. Mine, they need this. F’del took it gracefully, but worried over her as she went through her presentation. When he finally got caught, a huge mark on his neck, F’del couldn’t take it anymore. That’s too much. Call it, Altith. The Purple did so, bringing them in with a cheerfulness. “It was well done, you two.” Nim just shook him off, and walked back into line, back straight and eyes spitting fire.

Pushing aside his worry for his step-daughter, he turned to Kyrillion and Ripariath. A’mor had spoken highly of the pair, and he nodded to them as he checked the straps. It was a fine first run, and F’del gave her a smile. “It was a good run.”

‘We’ll go next!’ The next was Sol and Eccolath, and F’del offered a smile for his favorite pair. They were good girls, and honest to a fault – they also kept Pratyba somewhat reined in. He checked her straps, same as everyone else though, and shook his head laughingly. “Almost there, but not quite. I know Eccolath doesn’t like them, Sol, but you need to practice harnessing her properly. It is of utmost importance that you are safe when you’re in the air.” Altith rumbled amused, and chucked her lightly with his nose. Do not grumble, silly one! Our's are silly creatures, and they need to be kept safe while we fly~ He only finished checking them, rubbed Eccolath softly on her shoulder, and nodded to Sol’s words. ‘I will. Thank you, F’del!’ They went through with them, and when the pair landed, Altith was dancing happily and F’del smiled at her enthusiasm. “It was quite well done. Good job.”

[fidelli]

It was over - and F'del was not sure whether to laugh or cry. He had his notes, and as the Weyrling's gathered around, he cleared his throat. "Well. I'm glad you all had fun with the exercise, and I'm also glad that we'll be doing this again and again and again. Hopefully, you'll all graduate by the time this is done - I'll be breaking you up into small "wings" later on and you'll do this... But not until later. So! The scoring! In order of the weyrlings that went. My scoring went like this. Harness - 2 Points for having it, 5 Points for the proper strapping of it, and 3 points for the condition. Flames - 5 points for how well you flamed, 5 points if you flamed it all, five points for your technique, and five points for firestone chewing. Flying - ten points technique, five points for avoiding, and five points for flying timed with flaming. Betweening - five points for choosing your destination, ten points for seeing where you wanted to appear, and five points for rightly timing when to go Between. Twenty points for avoiding thread, and I went down a point or two for every thread that you hit or hit you. And then, ten points if you got to the end, or how many points for where you got. Make sense to everyone? If you ask, I'll go over your's more closely after."

He paused, reading over the first sheet infront of him, and nodded. "Pratyba and Oorth - For your harness, you score a 3 - one point for having it (you only came with half of it, it seems), two points for proper strapping, and zero points for the condition. Thread is a 12 - five points for your technique (and here his green eyes glimmered in amusement over the hide) three points for your flaming zero points for flaming it all, and four points for firestone chewing. Flying is a 4 - three points for your technique, zero points for avoiding the thread, and one point for flying timed with flaming. Betweening is a 0 - you didn't. You didn't avoid the thread... So, a 0. And And ten points for getting to the end. So, over all, a 29!"

He was surprised she got as high as she did (but he had enjoyed the show.)

"Out of a hundred."

The next was Durian, and Mesreath. He really did have to work on how possessive the dragon was of his rider, but he doubted that he could do anything. It was up to Durian - but that couldn't happen in a real Threadfall.

"Well, Durian, you and Mesreath did well - but a few things. Your harness you scored a ten out of ten - beautiful job there. In the flaming category, a four for your flaming, two points for flaming as much as you did, technique is a three, and four for firestone chewing. Flying, six points for technique, err, no points for avoiding, and four points for flying timed with flaming. Betweening is five points for choosing your destination, ten points for seeing where you wanted to appear, and three points for rightly timing it. Five points for avoiding the Thread, and two points for your destination. Overall, 58!"

He shook his head, and started on the next pair.

"Chelo and Seiseth! For your harness, 2 for having it, 3 for being strapped correctly, and 3 for the condition of it. Flaming... 4 points for your technique, 3 points for flaming them all, 4 for flaming well, and 4 on firestone. Betweening, is a 5 for destination, 8 for seeing where you needed to be, and a 2 for timing it. 18 for avoiding, and for getting all the way through, an 8. Total, 64."

L’VEN
Harness
2 Having
5 Correctly
3 Condition

"Thread" flamed
4 Points Technique
5 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
5 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
10 Points Technique
3 Points Avoiding
4 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
4 Points for Destination
10 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
3 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
18

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Total: 90

K’BER

Harness
2 Having
5 Correctly
3 Condition

"Thread" flamed
5 Points Technique
5 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
5 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
10 Points Technique
1 Points Avoiding
4 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
5 Points for Destination
10 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
3 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
18

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Total: 90


AVALLE
Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
5 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
3 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
5 Points Technique
3 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
4 Points Flamethrower Handled

Flying
8 Points Technique
2 Points Avoiding
5 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
5 Points for Destination
10 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
4 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
14

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Total: 84

LAURA
Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
3 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
3 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
2 Points Technique
5 Points All Flamed
1 Points How well you flamed
3 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
4 Points Technique
4 Points Avoiding
4 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
5 Points for Destination
8 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
4 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
20

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Penalized - 5 Points for recklessness

Total: 73

ORIS
Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
5 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
2 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
4 Points Technique
5 Points All Flamed
5 Points How well you flamed
4 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
8 Points Technique
4 Points Avoiding
4 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
4 Points for Destination
7 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
4 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
19

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Total : 87

NIM
Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
4 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
3 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
5 Points Technique
2 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
5 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
9 Points Technique
1 Points Avoiding
5 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
5 Points for Destination
9 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
3 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
15

Reaching Destination – 10
2

Total: 74


KYRIL

Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
5 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
3 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
4 Points Technique
5 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
5 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
9 Points Technique
2 Points Avoiding
5 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
4 Points for Destination
8 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
5 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
15

Reaching Destination – 10
10

Total: 86

SOL
Harness
2 Points for Having Harness
1 Points for Being Strapped Correctly
3 Points for Condition of Harness

"Thread" flamed
5 Points Technique
3 Points All Flamed
4 Points How well you flamed
4 Points Firestone Chewing

Flying
10 Points Technique
3 Points Avoiding
5 Points Flying timed with Flaming

Betweening - 20
3 Points for Destination
8 Points Seeing Where You Want To Appear
5 Points for Rightly Timing When To Go Between

Avoiding Thread – 20
15

Reaching Destination – 10
10 Points for Getting to the End

Total: 81

After he had rattled off the scores, F'del looked up smiling to the kids and nodded. "Well done, enough. Now! The prize... Err, prizes!" Ribbon settled on his shoulder, holding the bag in a taloned claw and cheeping very happy with herself. He took it, and reached inside, stirring up what was in there. "And the prizes go like this -

Over all winner, is a tie. L'ven, K'ber." He offered them the bag. "Next prize, the best Flyer, to Sol and Eccolath." Her next. "The best teamwork - Avalle and Callistath." To the Queenrider next. "The steadiest pair, Kyril and Ripariath." He let her have the bag next, and then... "And the most... Inventive. Pratyba and Oorth." He let her have the last slip of paper from the bag, and smiled at them... Deviously.

"Here you go Weyrlings - the color you pulled is your new prize." Altith had reached out to the little Weyrbrat bribed with the shiney things, and toddled around Altith at that moment, holding a big box in his arms. F'del scooped them out of the box and presented it to the Weyrlings, one at a time. Pratyba's slip of paper had orange and black, and the kitten he handed her was a slip of a thing, shorthaired, with an almost brindled color running down her back and bold orange on only one side of her face. She was a mischievous thing, who enjoyed chewing on fingers and scratching up hands more than cuddling, but she still seemed to follow Pratyba everywhere when she wasn't getting into her own trouble.

Pratyba's

L'ven's had charcoal on it, and he handed the boy the opposite of her sister. She was long haired, a misty gray with white on her chest and four paws, and just the tiniest bit on her forehead. She loved to purr and be cuddled and would always forever want attention from both human and dragon, who she saw as just another version of herself. She was a little haughty, but she would never turn away a scratch... And she would demand plenty.

L'ven's

He handed K'ber's his next, the smallest of the bunch, as his paper said "feline" on it. She was beautiful, a tawny color with spots running down her like she was a small wild feline, but she just oozed happiness and sweetness as she set up her purring in his hands, licking his hand with a tiny sweep of her tongue and snuggling into his palm harder. He wouldn't get rid of her easily - she loved him, just like she loved everyone else! And, as a bonus, she would love water. Jumping in it, pouncing in, fishing in it... She would get it everywhere in his weyr if he put a water dish down for her.

K'ber's

He pulled Kyrils out of the box with a wide grin - her paper said silver. She was a huge eared standoffish thing who was fickle, but loved warmth and was a one or two man kitten. She hissed at F'del as he scooped her up, but after a few inspections of Kyril settled down happily enough in her arms. She would be loyal, as felines could be, but she would also not tolerate outsiders into her carefully ordered world... And she needed heat. She hated being cold, and despises winter.

Kyril's

The next was to Avalle, with a smile. The tom was fluffy, and seemed so big when he held him, but as soon as he put the little tom in her hands, you could tell how small he really was. He was orange, a puff ball that bounced around roly poly and tried to taste everything. He was a funny one, constantly amused at the world, and attracted to shiny things... Like Callistath's hide! He snuggled though, and would always be up for a good brushing or a scratch... But he hated water. And he was a territorial little thing - he didn't like other male's around his Avalle or in HIS weyr. The Flit was incredibly shiny as well, but after she may give him a few good swipes with the paw, he'll be nice.

Avalle

And the last was handed to Sol, a white kitten with a black tail and a black head. He was middle length in fur, but dopey looking, and he curled himself into a tiny ball as he was lifted out. His eyes were shut tightly, and he seemed... He was afraid of everything. Sol's warm hands made him peer up at her, and he shivered into her embrace, mewling unhappily. He was a medium sized, but he would take some getting used to - for example, he was clawing up her shirt, trying to get around her next where her hair made it look safe. He was afraid of everything - except Eccolath, who was SO big he couldn't comprehend that she was dangerous.

Sol's

It had happened like this. Altith had found the kittens, and had adopted them all - F'del hadn't been able to take it, and as he was putting together the lesson, Altith had told him that he needed a prize for the winner. He glanced over to where the dragon was being climbed on like a mountain by kittens... And hatched THIS plan. "Congratulations, you are now the proud owners of a feline. They'll feed themselves, mostly, and may or may not get attached. Weyrlings, dismissed!"

Feeling quite proud of himself, F'del rocked back on his heels and grinned at the few standing before him, holding their brand new pets.

[Admin]

The naming of cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games,
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter,
When I tell you a cat must have three different names.

K'ber felt a touch of satisfaction when F'del announced that L'ven and him had tied for first prize. The bronzerider at least hadn't beat him, which was acceptable in his mind. Smiling a curt smile, a development off of his shy one, he accepted a slip of paper from the bag that F'del offer, selecting his first. Beside him, Detritath steadily basked in their glory while still managing to retain his aloofness. Blinking down at the slip in his hand, K'ber read it. Feline. That's all he said. He looked up to see F'del handing one of exactly what his paper read out of a box to Pratyba. Hurriedly, he extended his hands, dropping the slip, as F'del came to him. A tiny, tawny kitten was deposited into his grasp and he stared at her as she proceeded to lick his fingers. Detritath peered down at the tiny creature. Another pet for his rider. She seems undersized; he commented.

Ignoring Detritath's remark, since the iron knew nothing about felines, K'ber turned away as F'del dismissed them. Once he thought about it, he realized that he knew almost about felines too. He knew dolphins and dragons, and could probably manage with canines, but he had no experience with felines. However, the little kitten did seem like a sweetheart. He smiled a little smile, forgetting about L'ven for a moment. Detritath didn't forget them a wink, but he allowed his rider his emotions and stalked awkwardly behind the boy. Carefully, K'ber raised the kitten up to his face, lumbering forward. He received a lick on his nose. "Hello, uh, Siffi;" he told her. She let out a purr. Silently, Piteous appeared in the air nearby and swooped down to inspect the new addition. She purred at the black firelizard too. K'ber gently scratched her.

There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames,
Such as Plato, Admetas, Electra, Demeter,
But all of them sensible everyday names.