Trill, Meet L'ton, Ikaroth, Jill, and Arcath's Teeth

OOC Time: Thursday, November 11th, 2010
Characters: Trillian, L'ton, Ikaroth, Jill, Arcath
Summary: Trill gets L'ton's signature and two items marked by dragons, is bespoken by a dragon for the first time, and is assigned to be Jill's helper for the day.

It's currently early spring on the northern continent. The Starsmiths say it is 12 Turns and 24 days into the 10th Pass. It is midmorning at Fort Weyr, and the sky is clear and fresh, the winds strong.

Center of Fort Weyr's Bowl (#971J)
Grey volcanic cliffs tower neckbreakingly steep to all sides of this gigantic ovoid that is Fort's Bowl, creating a vast haven stretching over three thousand feet to the northeast and to the southwest from the full impact of the cutting mountain winds. To the northeast, dominating the rest of the mountain range, looms the immensity of Tooth Crag; to the southwest, beyond the lake, the crumpled rim reminds of a catastrophe from ages past.
The airspace above is comparatively crowded, whether by wings or singletons; likewise, the packed earth and rock that grounds the Bowl sees virtually constant activity, particularly just to the east where the living caverns lie. Along the northern curve yawns the hatching grounds, and the lingering reek of blood on the western breeze is a tell-tale pointer to the feeding pens.
It is a spring midmorning. The sky is clear and fresh, the winds strong.
You see Shark here.
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Area Northern Curve Eastern Curve Feeding Pens Lake Garden

Over at the feeding pens, L'ton swings down from his lifemate Ikaroth's neck.
Over at the feeding pens, L'ton exits to the east, dodging a wherry as he makes his way out to the bowl.
L'ton emerges from the feeding pens.

With such strong winds on this early spring midmorning, it is a wonder that Trill's light frame isn't carried off into the skies. But no, she's jogging through the bowl with a packet of something under one arm. Her typical pale blue jacket and trous are supplemented by a rather ridiculously fluffy knit scarf with blue, brown and green stripes wrapped around her nose and mouth, and a matching floppy hat. Always fashionable.

Any day before a Fall is alive with preparations and schemes of readiness. Jill, at Sirocco's helm, has her 'seconds, L'ton and K'lora, as almost all the other Wing contingnents reviewing strategies for what will be a tricky sermon of Thread due to changes in the weather. Dragons of all colors but golds litter the Bowl and it's L'ton's big boy, Ikaroth, who halts Trillian's jog by getting square in her way.

Well that is enough to make Trill stop in her tracks. Stop and salute, and look a bit nervously up at Ikaroth. First his leg and then the rest of him, which she needs to take a few steps back to see. "Hello, sir." She squeaks out, and looks over to L'ton as well, "Sirs." She sort of freezes, wondering what the bronze and/or his lifemate will do next.

"…But there aren't any yielding fields up there of any kind, are there? They stopped grazing when M'lantir was Weyrleader because of the lack of forage." L'ton, contesting the coverage of an area he thinks to be largely barren, is too engrossed with the discussion to address what his life-mate is interfering with. Ikaroth doesn't act like he's impeding the candidate in the slightest, the slow whirl of great opal eyes looking elsewhere. But we know better.

You sense Ikaroth bespeaks you directly with » A door opens and a giant fits through with no explanation of the logic of fitting. Air leaks in after him, a stolid rush of singular presence. « You run. Why? » «

Now, this is the first time a dragon has ever bespoken the girl. Cue jaw drop and eye widen. Trill shakes her head and puts her palm to the side of it. "What. You. You?!" She gapes up at Ikaroth, not finding the right words. "Um. Yes. Hello…" she undoes the packet of hides under her arm and reads down the list, "Ikaroth. You are L'ton's bronze Ikaroth? " nervous laugh. "I am running," a pause as she regains some of her mental faculties, "Because I was sent on an errand. And as a candidate I have to do what they tell me to do." She adds, "Or else. I..need to get a signature from your lifemate and a clawprint from you, er. Sir. If..that's okay..sir?" How does one address a dragon? Sir might be okay. Maybe.

You sense Ikaroth bespeaks you directly with » Ikaroth expands in this place Trillian calls home, hold widening as weak memories are pushed out of existence to make room. She may not even remember she ever forgot them. « Yes, I allow L'ton to ride me as mine. Why would candidates do as they're told when I do not even do that. » His mind voice is based on L'ton's improper tenor but Ikaroth's way with words fractures from his rider's. « You should instead go get a wherry and eat with Irajath. That is what I would do. » «

L'ton holds his peace while Jill and K'lora, each his senior by a matter of many Turns and practical experience, talk of the merits, or lack there of, of the alpine land Thread will soon hover over.

Trillian scratches her head, "But, I think it is most logical to allow a dragon to eat what it has killed. That's what I would do. I think dragons enjoy raw foods more, and I would not want to interrupt their eating experience. " She bites her lip, "I have been told to get signatures from every wingleader and wing second, and talon prints from their dragons if possible and I need to talk to Sirocco wing. I believe it is an exercise to get to know the riders of the weyr. Would you be amenable, sir to touching this little bit of ink I have here and touching your claw to a hide for me? I..would be more than happy to assist you in.." What could she assist a dragon in.. "Washing or, helping oil, or helping with riding straps. Anything you might need sir." Trillian adds "In return."

Over at the feeding pens, Ikaroth exits to the east, dodging a wherry as he makes his way out to the bowl.
Ikaroth emerges from the feeding pens.

Ikaroth, paying lax attention to his wings, has them spilled and has their main spars indifferrently touching the damp ground. The multi-shaded bronze hasn't the dexterity to manipulate his claw and apply ink to it - that will be Trillian's appointment. He can, however, administer the appropriate claw, and an inappropriate one, to the hide on the ground, piercing it easily and driving it into the ground. L'ton excuses himself from the conference to walk steadily over to his troublesome life-mate and a candidate. "What's he got you doing?" Blame instantly affixes to the bronze.

Trillian detaches a container of ink from her belt and cautiously approaches the bronze, "Thank you sir." She calls up to him, and then hunches over, patting his foreleg and smearing ink all over his first digit. "All ready," she calls out, placing the hide on the ground so that Ikaroth can stab or smear it with his claw. As L'ton comes over, she smiles, "L'ton, sir. Ah, I was tasked with getting signatures of all wingleaders and wingseconds and dragon talon prints, to help me get to know the riders of the weyr. Ikaroth is a very nice gentleman and has agreed to give me his talon print. Would you be amenable to signing this other hide here?" She holds out a quill and another hide from her stack.

"You're getting signatures too?" L'ton's face bares mild surprise. "You working with another candidate named Cabrien by chance?" L'ton would be a lawyer's nightmare as he publishes his signature on Trillian's sheet. As for Ikaroth's, "allow me." As the beast raises his foot Li pulls the dismantled hide off it. Two holes and sticky dirt now distinguish it. "Is it still any good to you?"

Trillian looks quite delighted, "Oh thank you. Yes, well it was a candidate task. And we just have to sort of do what we're told you know." She nods and collects the hide back from L'ton, and also collect the one from his dragon as well. "Yes, it is quite workable, thank you very much Ikaroth." She bows to the dragon. Lawyer's nightmare indeed. Mwa ha ha. "I see you are very busy with wing talks, I do not want to interrupt, that is.." she scans her list, "Wingleader Jill, over there yes? I will need her signature and print as well if possible but, I can come back later if that is better."

L'ton brushes the dirt transferred from hide to hand off on his riding breeches. "Penyn's staff assigns the strangest things. I think her mind's getting soft, but don't tell anyone." At least the trite observation doesn't originate with him alone. "Jill is…" he takes in the Wingleader's status, dressing down a bluerider for something. "She might oblige you, but she's, beware of her. She flies her own way," a metaphor to indicate the brownrider's rogue-like status. Ikaroth comes out of Trillian's mind, links snapped, all but one or two which he will monitor the candidate with for a while longer. The girl's inexperience with such phenomena will disguise the bronze's partial residence - until the time he pushes a synapse too far, brings past memories to life anew Trill thought long gone.

Trillian nods, "I have often thought of some of the assignments as being illogical. /BUT/!" She gets a gleeful look in her cobalt blue orbs, "Penyn has been very kind and has taught me much about flaming units. So I do not really mind if I have to do other things that seem odd." That girl, she loves her fire and her machines. As Ikaroth exits Trill's mind, she notices, but is more focused on Jill over yonder. "Well I will have to try and find out I suppose, " She muses, "Should I go over and approach her then?" Always concerned about being polite.

L'ton no longer tries hiding his flaming red ears, the victim of a cool spring breeze and a hat that should have been blocking it. "Stay here. I'll go and see what I can do. She's partial to me." Because he is her leetle L'tonikins. "Mostly." Said bronzerider adds with some thought. Progress is made for Sirocco's Wingleader and L'ton tries hailing her.

Arcath backwings and touches the ground with his rear feet first and then his front. Jill, currently between two brown neck ridges, begins to unhitch herself from the riding straps before removing her helmet in the process. Her auburn colored hair remains in a loose bun while a few wisps are at the wind's mercy. Securing the helmet to a strap so it does not fall to the ground, she surveys the area for a brief moment before swinging one leg over to meet the other. Arcath lifts his front right leg to assist her departure and she lands with a graceful thud of her boots. L'ton is immediately noticed, but the young lady with him goes unrecognized. She stares at them for a brief moment until her dragon pulls her attention back to a patch of dry hide. A much more pressing matter. "Yes, yes. I see it." she says quietly to her bond.

Trillian nods, smiling a little as she does notice those red ears amidst his dark hair. But she does not comment on it. "That sounds like a logical approach," she muses. "Thank you very much, L'ton. Very kind of you." She adjusts her floppy hat as it had started to droop over her eyes. Best keep those free and clear for eye contact, and keep the forehead clear for saluting. Can't be too careful.

L'ton rolls a shoulder up to knock a bit of feeling up to one of said ears. During the lapse after Jill and Arcath have returned from Sirocco Headquarters, her Wingsecond snatches the opportunity for Jill's attentions. "There's a candidate there, forgot to get her name, but she's there with Ika-, or was," the bronze having took off to sun outside the Weyr. "She's there with the long scarf and wants to speak with you if you have the time. K'lora and I can continuing berating F'jorn for you." He smiles effortlessly.
C'leb pages: Not really XD
Greeting L'ton, again, with a heaved sigh, Arcath remains crouched down so that Jill can examine a patch of dry hide on his foreleg. "Oil. First thing after Sirocco business, I promise." she says to the brown. Reaching inside her jacket, a few hides are removed and she looks up at her bond, silently thanking him for acting as a barrier between her and the gusts of wind sweeping across the bowl. "Here." Thrusting the hides at L'ton, she looks him in the eye and then clears her throat. "Take a look at these formations tonight. I want you and K'lora to come up with new ones before the sevenday closes. I also want your notes on yesterday's morning drills. For comparison. And /why/ would a candidate need to speak with me." That last bit is stated rather than asked.

Trillian nods, taking a few steps over to where L'ton has approached Jill. She smiles over at the wingleader, saluting. "Hello, ma'am. Yes, I need to speak with you. A moment of your time, but," she pauses nervously, "Only if you do have a moment. I understand that wing tasks are far more important than what I need to speak with you about." Probably. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and adjusts her scarf, it was starting to slip off her shoulders.

L'ton knows how to act fast. He had to learn nimbleness. Hides are captured and held in his arms then sorted to a point where his hand can grab them securely. "New ones by then?" There's a two day limit. Puffed under his breath, "so much for Skywatch's poker game. Yes ma'am, they'll be done. The report too. And as for the candidate, ask Penyn." Who will then deny she gave any such orders and think it's the riders have gone soft in the head. The hides are lifted to Jill to announce they'll be completed as ordered and he goes off to pin down the antique greenrider known as K'lora.

"Where's your /hat/, L'ton? Do you want your ears to fall off? This biting wind is enough to lop off any uncovered extremity." Jill says with the concern of a mother rather than wingleader. "Get one by morning, or you'll be running laps!" is then hollered after him. Good thing he started walking away before she could really get to scolding him. And Trillian's immediate presence causes her to stare, blankly, at the young candidate. Then just as suddenly as the girl arrived, Jill's expression lightens and her brows rise. "Oh, so /you're/ the volunteer Penyn sent to me! Good, good." Whirling on a dime, Jill strides over to Arcath's front side. "Come on, follow me. Move your feet, girl!"

Trillian blinks, but rolls with it. "Ah, sure, I am available to help, ma'am. All I need is your signature on this hide sheet and a talon imprint from your lifemate, if your lifemate is amenable. I've been tasked with collecting signatures from the wingleaders and wing seconds and talon imprints in ink on hides, to get to know the riders of the weyr better." A pause as she takes the steps over to Arcath's front side, "What do you need me to do, I am ready and willing." She may regret this.

Standing directly in front of Arcath, Jill motions for the brown dragon to lower his large, wedge shaped head. As he does, she side steps to make a little more room. "Stand aside, girl, don't need you to get squashed." Motioning for Trillian to side step, too, Jill folds her arms in front of her soon afterward. Arcath lowers his head so that the bottom of his jaw is resting right on the ground. His faceted eye focuses on the candidate and he snorts loudly. Jill rolls her eyes. "Stop, love, she's soon to be your little helper." Turning to Trillian, she eyes the girl up and down. "What did you say your name was?"

Trillian takes a step back to make room for the brown's head. She inhales, "I've never been this close to a dragon's face before." Really? I guess so. She takes in all the little lines and shapes about his face with interest, and then jumps as he snorts. "Why is he snorting, did I do something wrong?" A pause, "Oh, my name is Trillian. Of Fort Hold. Well met Wingleader Jill, ma'am. Would you like me to salute? I can do that if you would like."

"Well, Trillian," Jill says in an icy tone. "Whenever Fort Weyr has a batch of candidates, I put in for someone to volunteer to help me for one day." The girl gets another scrutinizing glance. "For the life of me, I don't know /why/ you're dressed in those clothes. But, it's too late now." Reaching over to pat Arcath on the tip of his nose, the brown opens his mouth wide to reveal many sharp, craggy teeth. "This is your assignment until dinner time. Start cleaning. Don't forget to pick out the bones stuck in the back, there. See? Waaaay in the back." Pointing inside the brown's massive mouth, she peers down at the teeth near his throat.

Trillian nods and rolls up her sleeves. "So you would like me to." She peers within the brown's mouth, wrinkling her nose. "He won't bite my arm off accidently? Is there..something I can use to prop his mouth open? Or, well I suppose you can just tell him to please keep his mouth open?" Alas, there is probably no dental floss on Pern. "Hmmm…." she says, trying to figure out whether she should use her hands or invent something to do the job.

Jill folds her arms in front of her again and looks at the girl with a bemused expression on her face. "Reach right in there and pull out that bone wedged between his teeth. See?" Point. "Right there. You don't have to get /in/ his mouth, just reach. Use your arm's length and grab that bone that's stuck up in there. Then pull. Hard." Arcath's mouth remains open and the saliva that's developing ought to be enough incentive to move quickly. "Step to, girl! I can't promise his mouth will remain open for much longer…"

Trillian nods, "All..right.." she's not too certain of this. But she rolls up her sleeves even further, and reaches in with one hand, grabbing and yanking, while dragon spit goes down her arm. "URGHHH.." she grunts, trying to remove it. "It is stuck in there very hard." she remarks, "If I use both hands, will I hurt him?"

"Arcath's been scored by Thread in the past and he endures the icy depths of *between* on a daily basis. Nothing /you/ do will cause him any harm." Jill says matter-of-fact like. "Use both hands to get a good grip and yank that bone shard out of there! You like dripping with dragon saliva, girl? I'm sure his breath doesn't smell like a basket of redfruit either." Observing from a few steps away, Jill looks up at Arcath as his eye whirls quickly with blue-green hues, depicting his complacent mood. A slight smirk tugs at a corner of her mouth and she returns her attention to Trillian.

Trillian gulps, "I am trying breath.." she exhales. OOPS. Grimacing, she shoves her other hand in there. Yanking, squirming and grunting, she braces both legs on the side of his jaw and pullls, and pulls, and pulls, and with a mighty POP, the boneshard comes out, knocking her flat on her behind. "OOOOF!" she yells, now sitting on the dirt, but holding up the bone, triumphantly. "I got it!"

Clapping both her hands slowly, Jill looks down at the girl sitting on the cold ground. Arcath finally closes his mouth and rumbles a soft 'thank you' and begins to walk toward Ikaroth and the other Sirocco dragons at the far end of the bowl. "Well, I ought to give you some credit. Every other candidate in the past took one look at Arcath's teeth and ran in the opposite direction." Waving her hand at the bone shard, Jill flicks her gaze between it and Trillian. "You can keep that." The scarf around her neck is then loosened slightly as she turns in the opposite direction, heading toward the ground office of the Weyrlingmaster. "Carry on." is then called over her shoulder. Choosing to ignore the request for her signature, she picks up her pace and shoves both hands in her jacket pockets as she does. There's no doubt that /she'll/ be recognized by the candidate in the future.

Trillian stands and salutes, slapping some dragon spit onto her face. EWWWW. "Thank you ma'am! I need to be getting back to my other chores now I think." Signature is momentarily forgotten, she grabs onto that bone shard and retreats back across the bowl. Bath and chores first, other items later.

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