Shenanigans - Weyrling's Mating Flight Discussion

Summer - Day 5 of Month 7 of Turn 2714

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Weyrling Barracks

Inside the wooden building fresh air circulates from the many open windows lining the two longest walls. Outside, you can see many tropical trees and shrubs. The walls and ceiling of the barracks are made of slats that have been pegged together tightly. Overhead are beams from which electric lights have been strung. The floor is of black volcanic stone, rubbed to a smoothness that will not hurt the tender claws of young dragons.

Along each of the two longer walls are cots set up next to rounded depressions in the stone. There are enough areas available for all of the young dragons and their new riders with room to spare. At the back of the barracks are trunks with oiling supplies and bins where fresh meat is delivered until the dragonets learn to hunt for themselves.

It's sometime shortly after dinner that weyrlings are called back to a barracks that has grown noticeably cramped, as it was packed with fully grown dragons in a count of ten. Unseen since the dance lesson, J'en is once more amongst them, chatting softly with assistant weyrling master R'hyn from where the younger of the bronzeriders is leaned against the wall via his shoulder. It was time for that most dreaded of final lessons if the rumors were true, with a few of the other assistants getting everyone comfortable by seating them on the floor in a small group, letting dragons relax on couches.

Sitting on the floor, when you are a giant creature of 6'5", is not exactly the most comfortable of things to do. It is also probably dangerous; those long legs are probably a terrible tripping hazard. So maybe, just maybe, S'van has opted to perch himself at the end of a cot instead. For safety reasons. Still close, still part of 'the group', but without the added danger of being a weyrling-roadblock. IF HE MUST, he will slide himself to the floor and look all the more annoyed for it. Otherwise, he will stay where he is, legs hanging off the side, sprawled back on his hands, looking as calm and casual as if they were about to discuss the weather.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre. The weyrlings have come round to this worst of the last lessons. Anarchy soon to be loosed upon the world, the drowning of innocence. Surely some revelation is at hand? R'hyn and J'en are here to unleash the beast thats hour has come round at last. As such Baylee sits upon her cot ready to listen and there is Myrakath nearby on her couch also more than ready to hear of the great mysteries that have been discussed only secret before this moment, but now will be spoken out loud in the light of the barracks.

Citayla knows how to do this — wrapped in a blanket or four, only her eyes visible as she sprawls grumpily on top of a pillow. The blankets will protect her from the Truths 'bout to be set upon them? At least if there are enough of them. She's following instructions because it doesn't even occur to her not to; and also maybe because Nady sprawls beside her, and they can lean on one another and possibly poke one another's eardrums out. Ilyscaeth is mostly asleep, sending happy half-formed animals dancing around the room in her mind as she dozes and Cita tries her very best do disappear.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity; an appropriate comparison, considering the nature of the upcoming discussion. R'hyn doesn't seem in a terrible hurry to gather the weyrlings about, letting other assistants attend to the task while he holds that low discussion with Jae, but finally the room reaches that state of quiet, attentive zen that signals readiness (if not some vague unwillingness) to learn, and with a sigh, R'hyn gestures his chin towards the gathered weyrlings. Better go. "First of all," the bronzerider drawls, "this might be your last formal lesson as a group, but I expect you all to report to the barracks cleanup. That's a mighty-fine scorch mark we've got out there, and I'll not have you leaving the barracks worse than they came in." Eyepoint, from his to theirs with a sweep of his hand before he gestures for J'en to speak his part. Xermiltoth is perhaps crammed in there somewhere, but his thoughts are strangely silent, slow-whirling eyes observing his progeny with quiet distance.

A glance towards the weyrlings, a silent counting, and only once they are all there gathered in there prospective places and R'hyn gestures towards them with that sigh. One that is echoed in return, with only the slightest of twitches. While the weyrlings are bwing addressed with finality and scorchedness, he goes about grabbing not one but two chairs to drag over, the wingleader pauses as he sees S'van all rebellious and cot sitting. Golden eyes are narrowed as his lashes lower and chin decidedly tips upwards. "Floor." Just the single word and perhaps a bit commanding in its flat delivery. Only when there is compliance (because he totally waits there staring at the bronzling until his butt is on stone with everyone else's), does J'en plop the two chairs down facing the group of the bundled, poetic, and defiant. A hand is gestured towards the one on the right, apparently the place where R'hyn is being asked to sit, before the younger of the two riders drops into the other on the left. Instantly he crosses his long legs at the knee, leaned back and folds his arms loosely over his middle. "Welcome to the matin' flights lecture, except it ain't gunna be a lecture, cause that shit is borin' as fuck even with stick figure drawin's." A flicker of a glance towards R'hyn before his returns his gaze to sweep over the lot of them, "We're just gunna open it up to a question and answer session. R'hyn and I will do our best to answer 'em from experience or observation. Ya dun need to raise yer 'ands or nothin', just ask…but try not to talk over on another and respect when someone else is talkin' by not flappin' yer bubbly-holes." Another side-glance towards R'hyn. "Ya got anythin' else ya wanna add?"

Is that a longsuffering sigh from the bronze weyrling? Surely not. Must have imagined it. And he's certainly not sending accusatory eyes over towards Baylee, who is ALSO sitting on a cot and apparently allowed to remain doing so. But S'van complies, somehow managing to fold himself into something resembling a pretzel as he settles on the floor as bidden. But he's going to lean his back against that cot, darnit. Arms cross resolutely over his chest, more for comfort than defiance. The declaration that the lecture is not going to be a lecture at all earns a lifted eyebrow and a twitch to the corner of his mouth; amusement. But questions? Nope. None from him. He just settles back a little more comfortable against the cot he is leaning against, apparently prepared to wait this out, and glances around at his fellow weyrlings.

And just where are the greenrider representatives? Two bronzeriders are going to talk about the female experience? Men and all their mansplaining. Huff. Baylee listens politely to J'ens introduction and her face falls. Yep this is what is going to happen. The greenriders attention is not going to move to Sev but rather her fellow female. There has to be some support in the room. A person whose face does not fall though is Myrakath's. Questions are her thing and she has already put together a whole list of questions. A mental squee is sent out to the dragons in the room and bright sunlight shines from her mind. Her questions will primarily be directed at Xermi but any other dragon who is paying attention, « So when do we get to practice? If I am going to be doing this on a regular basis I want to be the best at it. How do you get proddy? What happens when you get proddy? How do you know when you are proddy? How do you pick a mate? Is that chosen for you? What if you don't like them? How does human mating affect dragons? » she begins. Yes. She has tons of questions. Baylee slowly turns her head in Myrakath's direction silently willing her to fall silent, but that is something that just isn't going to happen. Damn it. It is enough to catch the dragons attention though and she shares a quick glance with her rider, « Oh! Baylee and Krenn wish to mate. How long does that take? Do we need to plan for a whole day off or just a couple hours? How do you get time off for that? Is there some paperwork to file? » Baylee can only look away from her lifemate. This whole thing was a bad idea.

R'hyn sees all of your little reactions, weyrlings, but he says nothing for now. Instead, he lets J'en direct weyrlings and conversation both, still lingering in that middle distance and — there he goes, striding right past that chair the wingleader has so thoughtfully provided to plop his happy ass right on the floor amongst the weyrlings. The reason? Jae isn't the only guest speaker R'hyn's arranged for. Syn might not kick in the door to the weyrling barracks, but it's a very near thing - it still slams open loudly, framing the figure of a diminutive blonde. She stands there for a moment, surveying them all with a sharp grin and a happily sighed, "Hello, Xermilbabies." And then she's striding into their midsts, not-even-five-feet of nothing but pride and black lace, stepping hoppingly over S'van's legs with a muttered, "Shells, but you're a tall one, bet I could climb you like a tree." But she makes it! She spins her chair the wrong ways around and straddles it with a fwoomf of fabric, draping over the back with a grin. "I'm Syn, greenriding friend of your shit-for-brains of an AWLM here, who near about begged me to make things more interesting for you." It probably didn't go just like that buuuut… If her dragon's come with her, she makes no appearance (more's the better), leaving Xermiltoth to telephone questions along to her. "One: soon. Too soon. If you're here, your dragon's reached sexual maturity, which means they could go up just about any time. Except you." Point at Cita. "You'll be waitin' one forever. You don't get proddy, proddy gets you. You'll start feelin' unlike yourself, or maybe more like yourself than you've ever felt in your life, and that's usually your first clue, though you might not recognize it the first time. It happens upon you like your rider's cycle, though," a nod for Baylee, "just once a turn or so instead of once a month: naturally, with little quirks, and then suddenly all at once. You'll also start to glow, so if at first you aren't sure…" Shrug. Smirk. "As for mates, that's entirely up to you. Some like the thrill of the chase, of bein' caught. Others, like my Morizanth, won't take anyone she doesn't choose. What d'you think you want?" The rest of that she'll leave to Jae, or so she implies with a lift of chin and a scrunched wink sent his way.

Jae's talking, and Ryn's sitting, and Citayla would rather be almost anywhere but here — the subject not one she jives with anyways, and the whole lesson thing significantly more public than her hold-raised ghosts of the past might prefer. So the goldrider retreats into herself a little, hunkering over and disappearing her eyes into the blanket now because honestly, why does she even need to see it? She doesn't react to Syn's arrival, but to groan very quietly, exasperated and maybe a little bit amused. Maybe. "She can wait for two forevers, as far as I'm concerned." Cita reports from her pile of blankets and misery, sighing and peeking out only long enough to shoot Baylee a sympathetic look. Greens rise much more than Ily ever will. "How much warning am I going to get?" Grimly, the weyrling asks of anybody who might like to answer, a little muffled because well, she's still not emerging from the blankets.

So very many things happen, so very. J'en did not expect R'hyn to ignore the offered chair in favor of the floor, for a thousand questions to come from Myrakath, or for the greenriding daughter of S'gam to show up and take the chair he'd set out. He watches and listens to everything that unfolds, brows up and then knit upon his forehead, before a long look is shot to the man he once shared once candidacy and weyrlinghood with. That, is not kindness there. A brow sharply arched for Syn's comment to S'van, and after that its a lot of nose-bridge pinching and breathing. The deep and self-calming sort. Not interrupting, he waits for her to finish before the hand drops away, "Not all males chase every female, Leketh only chases golds, but it dun matter none to 'im who." he explains, "For the guys, it ain't gunna matter if yer single, weyrmated, straight, gay, or swingin' both ways. Yer gunna want a piece of whatever rider is bonded on that proddy female, yer gunna want 'em bad. So, yer gunna end up with guys and girls eventually, and it dun matter. It ain't about ya, its about yer lifemate. Ya can lock yerself up in yer weyr if ya really want to, but that and flat out resistin' ain't gunna be good for either of ya." Arms are now refolded over his lap, "Yer gunna be the 'ornyest ya ever been in yer life, and yer gunna do it. So mah recommendation, immediately following this 'ere show and tell, is to get with someone…and just fuck their brains out. Ya dun wanna be goin' into this a virgin." He points at H'yu in the back, "And yer gunna need lube, lots of it…get a barrel dude. For reals, unless ya want wanna be ass up in the infirmary with somebody's 'ands up in places ya dun wanna think about." Sighing, eyes are rolled towards the ceiling. "If ya win, dun be a dick, even if ya wake up next to yer worst enemy or grandma." Did Jae's lips just twitch upwards? Nah, just your imagination. "Ya dun got a right to stay unless yer asked, so if that dun 'appen, excuse yerself and get out. Preferably with clothin' cause none of us wanna see any of ya bare ass naked and fleein' the scene." Ahem. "Yer gunna lose to, and let meh tell ya there ain't nothin' worse than gettin' so worked up ya can't stand it, just to watch someone else claim the prize. Again, dun be a dick. Just leave, there's plenty of folks about willin' to help ya out with yer…problem."

S'van has no words. Just… none. There may have been a moment in there where he would have spoken, mouth open only to shut very quickly in the next second. Nope. Just… no. Nope. ALL OF THE NOPE. BECAUSE SILENCE IS SAFER RIGHT NOW.

This is alot of things to take in. Both for Myrakath and Baylee. Though Syn's explaination does go a great deal to answering some of the greens more vital questions about the specifics of how this whole thing works. « Ok got it. So the proddy gets me and I find some male. I get to choose cause thats how it works. » There's one empowered green dragon right there, « So after this lesson I'm going to find someone to practice with. It's going to be so great. » Yeah boys watch out Myrakath is coming for all of you. Though she does pause as she listens to J'en's suggestions « What is fuck? I've heard that word before. It's kind of a strange sounding word isn't it? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It kind of rolls off the tongue. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. » And in the midst of this already seriously degenerating conversation Baylee will speak up, she can only ignore her 'fuck'ing dragon. There's nothing else to be done. "What about substitutes? I heard you could do that." Because she has plans dangit.

Aedeluth would be HAPPY to give you a demonstration, Myrakath… Rawr.

R'hyn is pretty unabashed, despite glares, sitting criss-cross applesauce between the junior riders, and Syn is, well… Syn. Any looks aimed her way are met with flashed grins of too many teeth, as though to say, 'what?' She's not wrong. Still, there are further questions, and a small lecture from her fellow Istan, and the latter sets her to snickering in all kinds of terrible ways. But first: "Varies, unfortunately," answered to Cita's question, "I know a weyrwoman whose queen sets to glowing and within three days she's risen. Morizanth and I slowly trade personalities for a sevenday at minimum." Her expression says all they to know about how much she enjoys that. "Seems pretty constant, though - once you know your dragon's pattern, you're like as not to keep it." And then Jae's saying so many colorful thing, and Syn is helpfully pantomiming along, using her hands to visualize the various forms of bumping uglies with fists and pointer-fingers, eventually ending in a swordfight with herself that dissolves with a laugh. "A fair point," about having sex immediately. "Find someone you're comfortable with, or at worst, experiment with each other. I know it might seem weird - chances are you've never had a perverse thought about the person next to you your entire life," twinkle, "but at least the two've you will know you're coming at it from a purely scientific approach. With dragons involved, it's just your new reality." There's a glance of approval for Myrakath's attitude, clearly enjoying this empowered little greenie and her questions. Questions that leave her in stitches, gasping for breath even as she presses her face into her elbow to hide it, hand flip-flapping at J'en because she can't even. Xermiltoth? Xermiltoth just looks amused and proud. Because of course he does.

« Fuck? Fuck. » Ilyscaeth's mind drifts warmly from the mostly-asleep, sparkling in happy pinks and golds as she parses this new thing. « Fuck is what you say when somebody makes you mad. It makes things stronger. » Drowsily, the weyrling queen supplies, because she's Cita's lifemate and this is Her Jam, and why should either one of them be helpful? Nobody helpful in here. Then Ily's a swarm of fleeting technicolor dolphins riding on gentle lightning, and Cita is doubling over in her protective pile of blankets. "Faranth's sharding fucking," Just for demonstrative purposes, you understand. "tailfork." The human of the pair breathes, mostly to her blankets, because she can't see even one other person in there. Cita peers out from her blanketpile for long enough to glare beadily at Syn — or, maybe not glare exactly, but stare like she's crushing every one of her dreams in one fell swoop. "What if I miss her glowing? She going to hold off until I get back to somewhere not, um, my office?" She just. She's not even going to touch any part of what Jae just said except — okay, no, she is. "Please use plenty of lubrication. You would not believe the sheer number of riders who disregard that. Please. For my sake, if not your own sharding —" And here, she devolves into mumbling, because she glanced over at Syn in time to see those hand gestures and NO. Just. No.

Golden eyes slowly turn towards Myrakath when she bespeaks everyone in such a way, brows lifting upwards slowly. A few blinks and he lets Leketh divulge the meaning of her new favorite word to her and her alone, because that needed so much more than words to explain. Though he might even let his pale-hided partner in crime go ahead and give her all the details on human male and female mating. In great detail. Y'know, for educational purposes. Syn's pantomime, earns her another look, one that cracks under the pressure of all that ridiculousness and he makes a snerking-snorting sound before trying to school his expression away from a smirk. It was the sword fight at the end that did him in. For Baylee, "That means bein' locked up in yer weyr from the start of proddy until the flight's over though, and leaves the poor sap who catches Myrakath in the lurch. She or 'e's gunna feel like they're dyin' but long as yer cool with that…" he says, once he'd gotten the urge to laugh out of his system. "…ya, ya can. Substitute if ya want. I know of a few people who do that, but seein' as Leketh is male, I can only tell ya that not winnin' sucks. No matter 'ow many flights 'e loses, it sucks. But that ain't the flood of winnin', I dun even know what that be like for someone…to have that urge durin' the matin' process and yer partner is all 'old up somewhere else." For Cita, a warm smile always, he honestly loved that woman. He really did. See, there was a valid medical reason to make H'yu grin like all get out back there and thrust up a rather enthusiastic thumbs up. A snort for that, before Jae slides his eyes towards S'van and his silence, all of it. He says not a word, returning his attention to all of them instead. "Also, dun hold it against whoever ya shack up with, if they end up bumpin' fuzzies with someone else. Durin' a goldflight, it won't even matter if they ain't a rider, everyone's gunna be pretty much doin' everyone else. There's a reason that there's such a population boom nine or ten months later after. It's weyr, it 'appens."

S'van is not looking at anyone. Nope. Looking at the floor. Or the wall. Or maybe just staring off into space as he waits for this accursed "lesson" to be over with. He's not uncomfortable. At least, he's doing a fairly good job of looking bored, and not awkward or embarrassed. Even with all the pantomiming that the visiting greenie's got going on. Mostly, he appears as though he's lost in his head. Probably going through a to-do list of chores he doesn't plan on completing. At least until Baylee poses her little question. And NOW he's in the game, flashing a narrow-eyed look her direction as he very pointedly raises his hand and then RUDELY does not wait to be called upon before he's saying, "Uh, hold on a sec. What do you mean substitute?" Is that a glare? Why yes. Yes it is. A very DEATHLY glare, in fact. Because S'van is very NOT COOL WITH THE DYING THANK YOU VERY MUCH. "What the fuck do we do in that situation?" this is probably meant for the two bronzer's. Not that he's going to be looking at either R'hyn or J'en right now. Nope. Just gonna glare over at the wall or something as he adds another atrocity to the long list of life's unfairnesses.

Hey! She'd find someone the person could be with that would volunteer. There would be no 'dying'. Baylee never does anything halfway. She has plans. She files this little bit of knowledge away in her mind. By far the most useful part of this whole awful mess. She sends a glare right back to Sev, "Everyone for themselves." That seems to be the motto of the place anyway. Myrakath watches the demonstration of Syn and hears the words of the others. Baylee shifts her attention toward the lubrication conversation. Yes. She's had that chat already. Thanks Kelani. Myrakath can only « Ohhhhh. » as she gathers information from Leketh. Things make so much more sense now.

"You won't miss it," Syn assures Citayla without being reassuring about it at all. "And neither will the males. But if, somehow, you are that distracted, you have just about the length of time it takes for a male to catch her, so I hope one of you is fast." Blue eyes gleam fey for J'en's snorted amusement, smile splitting wide and sharkish. Alas, whatever horribleness she might utter is mitigated by a timely R'hyntervention, bronzer cutting the greenrider off with a, "Dying might be an exaggeration. It is the rider of the female dragon's prerogative to choose a stand-in, should they be dissatisfied with their dragon's choice in flight winner." Somewhat stern, in the face of glaring. "I will say, however, that it is uncommon, and should the pursuit of a substitute fail, it's nothing to be ashamed of. The line between you and your dragon frequently blurs into nothingness, sometimes total blackout." A shrug, to say: things happen. As for Sev: "It is uncomfortable, though, from what I hear. Make an arrangement with someone you know in those situations with the knowledge that it's infrequent enough or, as is your preference, make a match in the lower caverns." He stands as he speaks, fingers curling at Syn to beckon the rider to follow as he eases backwards. "The most important thing to remember regardless of your situation is: it's only a flight." A nod is given to Jae to wrap the lesson even as he leads an eyerolling Syn to the back of the barracks to speak in (mostly) low voices.

Citayla doesn't have to worry about much of the other side — the loser's problems are their own, and she's going to have her own, not that she's about to ask all that many questions here. Or possibly ever, if she can find the answers within one of the books in the infirmary. Jae's smile gets one from the weyrling, wry and sheepish but still not overly crabby, and plenty happy to hold the silence. Joyous silence wherein she doesn't have to awkwardly explain anything here. She's not even going to take the low hanging fruit that is S'van's question, instead making steady eye contact with the ceiling. It's not a bad idea, anyhow. The idea of everybody for themself gets a half-grin from Cita, but she doesn't take that one either, trying instead to phase through the floor and/or out of the entirety of existing. Syn, though, the goldweyrling's attention snaps to, maybe a little fearful. Or possibly just apprehensive. "Oh. That. Isn't a long time. Well, I have some things to talk with my dragon about…" And she's starting to inch away, scooting backwards towards Ilyscaeth a little wide-eyed. Run away, run away! Maybe if she runs fast enough, she won't have to deal with any part of the whole shindig. Riiiiiiight.

"I said feelin' not actually gunna keel over and die or nothin' like that," J'en tosses back at R'hyn, golden eyes tracing back towards him, but he doesn't push the correction more than that. Instead he shoots Baylee a long look that cannot be read before he pushes himself up and out of his chair about the same time that people are starting to shuffle off and herd shark-grinned greenriders towards the back of the barracks. It wasn't as if it was a secret, when he steps forward and offers a hand down towards S'van to help him up to his feet. "Ya, no. Ya come find meh and I'll take care of ya, 'cause like yer little friend said…everyone else is on their own." No arrangements to be made or matchmaking in the lower caverns. None of that, no. Quite possessively Jae doesn't let go of that hand, even with Sev on his feet, soon leading him with it straight out through the door into the great wide outdoors to somewhere else entirely without a single glance back. However, he does toss a sideways smirk towards the goldie-healer. "Night, Cita…" Why he is smirking like that at her, the world may never know, and this is probably for the best.

S'van does not have ESP. So how would he know that Baylee is thinking of anyone but herself? Especially with that lovely 'everyone for themselves' comment. Yup. Nope. ALL OF THE GLARES for Baylee. Cause she has 'plans'. There's probably another smart-ass sort of comment fixin' to come out of his mouth. (Probably about 'best laid plans' or some such). And he just has that look about him that says he's about to spout off something he'll later wish he hadn't. So maybe it's a good thing R'hyn steps in with all his anti-death, glare-ignoring, setting-the-record-straight interventions. Though his remark that things are just 'uncomfortable' gets a look that just… yeah. Probably a good idea that comment in Sev's head didn't make it out of his brain to see the light of day. Citayla's retreating into her blanket and scooting back to 'discuss' things with her dragon which just gets a cursory look from S'van. There's a healthy inhale, and a rather noisy exhale of annoyance for all things 'flights' related. And then he is getting an offered hand, which he gladly takes, climbing to his feet as quickly as he can considering he's sitting on the FLOOR and his legs have probably fallen asleep by now. "Sounds like plan," he decides, not even trying to hide his amusement at being hauled toward the door. There's no parting words from the weyrling, just a quick flash of a glance towards Myrakath and Baylee (GLARE) before he's out the door.

Baylee has her own problems to deal with, so the glarings of Sev don't really mean much to her at the present moment. Besides it looks like Sev is busy with his own thing at the moment. She doesn't bother to say much of anything to him at the present time. Instead she will get up from her place and move toward Cita, "We'll figure it all out." she says in passing. After all sister power! Even if the gold won't have to deal with this even half as much as poor Baylee does. Though she does feel a bit vindicated by R'hyn's words that female riders have the right to have a stand in if they want. There's some female power for you. Myrakath though is awash in the possibilities this moment brings, « I'm going to go find someone to mate with right now. I'm going to figure this out. » And so Myrakath gets herself up off the couch and heads out the door of the barracks to figure things out. Baylee sighs and turns toward R'hyn, "Does this mean we can have a few days off? Krenn and I want to go to the Pearl Dolphin for a few days." A proper honeymoon of sorts.

R'hyn's already mostly-gone, but fingers catch on Syn's coat (likely to keep her from escaping) as he turns to address Baylee's question. "Barracks cleanup. Competency exam. Then I don't care much what you do before you're tapped into your wing." Is that a hint of relief in his tone? It might be relief, but before he can think on it or get distracted again, he dismisses the rest of them with a salute and turns back to the conversation at hand.

Cita actually goes so far as to stand, pointing after Jae — but then she catches herself and glowers at his retreating back, narrowing her eyes for S'van, too, for that matter. Jae can probably feel the Lovingly Murderous thoughts being levied in his direction. Something along the lines of 'better know better than to end up in my infirmary again OR ELSE', probably, for all that she actually manages to keep that to herself. Instead she huffs out a sharp breath and smiles weakly at Baylee, nodding. "Sure. It's not so bad. We knew what we were doing going in, didn't we?" The weyrling posits, reasonably. Then she's flicking her fingers dismissively in Ryn's direction, why? Maybe for the entirety of the lesson, unfair as it is. Totally his fault. Or maybe just because she's feeling sassy, shuffling back over to Ily to hide beneath one of the gold's wings and never emerge again. Goodbye Citayla, it was great while it lasted.

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