Your Magnificence

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Lagoon
A sandy beach running along the edge of the lagoon, between the sparkling waters and the bowl. Given the weyr's tropical climate, riders and dragons can be seen playing in the water nearby or a dolphin can be seen cavorting nearly turn-round. At other times seacraft can be seen coming in under the arch to dock. The lagoon is large enough to fill a quarter of the length of the bowl.

It is a bright, lovely, sunshiny day at Half Moon Bay, and the weyrlings are out to enjoy it! Or, at least, a few of them are, an eye-scalding and a painterly green eked out by the dark harlequin bronze that is Xermiltoth. The girls are some way off, weyrlings chasing each other with handfuls of sand in the shallows while the dragons lay freshly-bathed in the sun. R'hyn is not so easily finished with his task. Xermi is bigger by far, and though he enjoys baths as much as the next dragon (if not more), he adamantly wishes to be elsewhere even as R'hyn scrubs at one sandy flank with a brush. « WE HAVE READING TO DO, » the dragon grumbles, sunbright mind tarnished with sparkling black diamonds. « YOU FELL ASLEEP INSTEAD OF COMPLETING THE DAY'S READING, WE ARE BEHIND! » “It's a book on Pernese law,” Heryn shoots back. “It's dry and tedious and full of jargon. I can hardly be blamed. Should've seen the look the Harper gave me when I asked to borrow it. He looked at me like I'd grown an extra head.” « IT IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW THE LAWS THAT GOVERN OUR PEOPLE, R'HYN. IF ANYTHING, HE SHOULD CAST ASPERSIONS ON THOSE THAT DON'T READ THESE THINGS! THEY CAN HARDLY BE DEEMED FIT TO LEAD WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT THEY'RE ABOUT! » “They seem to have gotten along just fine up until now!” And so they go, R'hyn’s voice only just shy of shouting right back at Xermi while a nearby assistant weyrlingmaster ignores them entirely. Surely she's used to it by now.

It's a beautiful day, so obviously Citayzleat has her nose in a book. She might have drifted from her task some during Candidacy, but not so much these days. 'Solutions to Trauma' looks like it's at least three hundred pages, and is large enough that Cita is having trouble wrangling it as she walks, but people part before her. She's totally got this. Whatever that book encompasses, however, doesn't seem nearly as interesting as the sudden presence of a growing-familiar dragon in her head. Swerving gracelessly to avoid a rock that was suddenly in her path – “Shells!” - the healer pauses to catch her bearings. And – yep. A few dragonlengths away, Xermiltoth and Heryn in the shallows, with the dragon being thoroughly scrubbed. Glancing from her book to the bronze, suppressing a broad smirk, Cita ambles closer. “Why are the laws more important than any other subject, Xermiltoth?” The healer calls, closing her book and carefully setting it on a stone shelf. Her breeches and healer tunic aren't really the best for dragon-bathing, but she wades in anyways, picking up a handful of sand and raising it in silent permission-seeking. “Perhaps if you let Heryn sleep more he'd have more of an attention span.” The healer grins at her friend, wide-eyed. GO WITH IT. A few beats, and she waves the sandy hand. “Shells, he's grown. What are you feeding him?”

So involved are they with their discourse that the weyrling pair barely recognizes Cita's approach until she's there, setting her book aside and offering Xermiltoth questions as though she doesn't know how apt this is to set the bronze off by now. Amateur! « DO YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION TO THE RULES OF YOUR CRAFT? DO YOU NOT FOLLOW THE RESTRICTIONS SET UPON YOURSELF AND YOUR WORK? WHY SHOULD THIS BE ANY DIFFERENT. WHY SHOULDN'T WE KNOW THE WRITINGS THAT DICTATE OUR VERY LIVES?, » the bronze asks, eyes spinning with excitement as he swings his head to nose the woman with affection. Xermiltoth-y affection. Xermilfection. R'hyn looks relieved, for his part, offering the healer a pleasant, “Cita! Looking as lovely as ever.” Cheek? Perhaps. “Out for a bit of light reading again?” Yeah. No. Definitely cheek. Blue-grey eyes dance with mirth, clearly not as angry as the tone he takes with his lifemate lets on. A welcoming gesture is given to her sand-filled question, hand shifting to point. “I've already got from the wings down. Just flanks, legs, and tail left. And his head, if you can stand being that close to his ugly mu— oof!” Splash!, down does Heryn with a brisk bark of laughter that the dragon reluctantly matches after a brief glare. « DO YOU SEE WHAT I MUST PUT UP WITH, CITAYZLEAT? I TRY TO OCCUPY HIS MIND WITH BIGGER, BETTER THINGS AND YET THIS IS ALL I GET. » There's fondness in the dragon's tone, though, even as he sticks his face back in Cita's direction, intent clear: face scrubbings please! “Ain't even about the sleep at this point,” he says, grin going impish for her look just the same. “It'd all be fine and well if he understood what the shells I'm reading,” R'hyn mumbles with chagrin as he pulls himself back out of the water, wringing out board shorts before getting back to task. “But he doesn't, so I'm reading this for what is essentially my own use, and I can't begin to tell you when I'll ever need to know that in article B of subchapter 11 of the Temperance Clause, there was a brief period of time in which the sale of alcohol was prohibited in Ista Weyr.” Okay, so he might've made up where the law was located, but shhh! As for Xermi’s size, there is a rush of sparkly diamonds of gratitude for Cita and a simultaneous sigh from the weyrling, who eyes the sudden eighteen meters of dragon. “You're telling me. I wish I knew, so I could put a stop to it.”

Citayzleat is totally an amateur — or possibly she finds poking the dragon into his rants funny, or fun, since y'know. She doesn't have him in her head at all times. "And your craft is law?" She challenges, raising her eyebrows. "I thought Heryn's was tending bar. He's really very good at it, you know." Serenely, the healer rebuts, purposefully misreading the dragon's intent. Except she can't seem to actually let a point lie, because: "I've glanced at it. We have to know medical law, you know. I'll have to learn more when I advance." Cita sighs, gustily. "Knowing the law isn't as important as knowing how to knit somebody's guts back inside 'em, right now." Beam! That swinging nose is patted with amusement, hand scrunching down to brush the skin between the lower jaw-bones, scritchy-scratchy. "You're looking better than usual, yourself, Heryn!" The healer parries, eyes bright as she takes in the waterlogged and sandy Weyrling. Smirks. As for the reading, she groans, pulling a face. "I suppose it's better than law, but tell me, how do you make trauma medicine boring? Master Cdysre has a talent for it." Cita grumbles, and opens her mouth to respond to the rest — except down R'hyn goes! Down into the sandy water, and that's possibly the least convincing not-laughing face the healer has ever tried in her entire life. No, she's not amused by the poor guy, nope. Straight-faced except for the twitching lips and nose, Cita blinks at Xermi. "Drowning's the solution, then, is it?" She teases, as deadpan as she can manage, before the ghost is up and she snorts, shaking her head and getting to work on the bronze's face. Yeah, yeah, you. She grabs both handfuls of sand, carefully working it around the crown of Xermiltoth's head, scrubbing. "Shells," That face is probably just as pitiful as her trying not to laugh; or maybe worse, all scrunched up and horrified. "How are you supposed to remember that? Or not fall asleep? Temperance, at Ista? Are you sure you're reading the right books." She will not shhh, because ISTA. TEMPERANCE? Pfffft. The diamonds have Cita laughing, even with her face still scrunched up, a fond scritch going down the dragon's jaw. "Oh, he'll probably get twice as big. Won't you, Xermiltoth?" Whoops. Dreams-ruiner, this one.

Dammit, Cita! « I WOULD THAT R'HYN HAD JOINED A CRAFT, THOUGH I UNDERSTAND THAT WAS NOT WITHIN HIS CIRCUMSTANCES AT THAT TIME IN HIS LIFE. TENDING BAR IS NOT A CRAFT. STILL, » Xermiltoth continues, not to be sidetracked despite Cita's best efforts, « WHILE RECORDING AND UNDERSTANDING LAW MAY PRIMARILY BELONG TO THE HARPER CRAFT, THAT DOES NOT MEAN WE, AS A WEYR’S PEOPLES, SHOULD BE BLIND TO WHAT THE LAWS DICTATE. WHAT IF R'HYN WERE TO ACCIDENTALLY DO SOMETHING ILLEGAL? » Like punch a former weyrleader… « 'I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WAS A THING’ IS HARDLY AN APT DEFENSE. » And if you don't know, now you know, Ms. Citayzleat. At least after that he seems to quiet - he still shines warm golden light into her mind with a dazzle of diamonds when she hits yesthatspotrightthere, but the enthusiastic tenor fades for now. Heryn, meanwhile, crosses his eyes attractively and makes a face back at Cita for her sass, but he's all laughs for her description of her assigned reading. “I mean, you should've known based on their name alone. Should've read ‘… By Master Cdysre’ and just been like 'no, thank you,’ and put it back,” he says like he isn't trying to read articles about law far beyond his station. It's Xermi's turn to laugh into her mind, though, rolling black and white diamonds giving the impression of a shrug. “He's a vain little bastard,” Heryn says with affection, slapping the bronze's leg before moving up to one forepaw. “Already on about how he's the best bronze in his class. Sharding full of himself.” But, one may note R'hyn doesn't disagree. They both point a grin her way when she caves and snorts, though Xermiltoth’s fades into a low, appreciative croon when she sets about scrubbing his head. “I don't know,” is said of how he's supposed to remember all of this, but apparently something sticks, for he points an amused look at Cita for her dubiousness. “Shells, yeah, right? Ista has a group that calls themselves the Temperance League. They're basically a joke, but every now and again - and specifically in that instance - they find someone who will listen to them.” Blue-grey eyes dance with amusement about it, too, before going flat with the rest of his expression. “Please don't encourage him.” It's too late! Xermiltoth has already doubled the wattage of his mind, affection rolling in a faint whiff of brandy. « I SHALL. THEY ASSURE ME I WILL DOUBLE AT LEAST. I WILL BE MAGNIFICENT. » Perhaps not as uniquely beautiful as Leketh, or as intimidating as Teimyrth, but there's a certain allure to the way his dark hide is broken by streaks of gold and coloration. “You'll be something,” R'hyn mutters in a vain attempt to keep the bronze humble, patting his foreleg. “Gimme your paw, Your Magnificence.” Snort.

In spite of her scritchy-scritching, Cita pulls an Offended Face at Xermi's first rant — "Hey! He's just fine how he is—" It's not strong enough to stop the dragon though, and he continues, and the healer makes a face at Heryn. This is his life. "It's the purview of the harpers, though, to defend those who unknowingly break the law, is it not? Not every citizen can know the charter and laws front and back." Cita taps the already-massive jaw gently, huffing under her breath. And there it is: Xermi's brought back the patented eye-roll, which still looks like it might roll the healer's eyes right out of her skull. "Well, it's certainly better than 'I did it because I wanted to'." Are those Judgemental Eyebrows? MAYBE. They might be. That dazzling gold and diamonds have stopped startling Cita — she rolls with it, laughing, applying more pressure to her sandy scrubbing. R'hyn's comment and ridiculous face get another eyeroll, but it's fleeting, the healer snickering under her breath. "I'm behind on my studies." She points out as she scrubs, working carefully down one soft-skinned cheek, sanding gently. Cita huffs at the impression of the laugh, glancing up at the Weyrlings and grinning an eye-crinkling smile. "Well," She hedges, long enough to offend — or amuse, in her case. "He is pretty great. Also," A glance down the dragon's hide. "He looks like he's growing well. No cracks or weird proportions." AS IF, right? Not Xermiltoth! Bending to scoop up another few handfuls of sand, she resumes the scrubbing, working up the other side of the weyrling's face. "Huh." For a long moment, she applies herself to scrubbing, then shakes her head, eyebrows drifting up in amusement. "Can't say I can see that. Last time I was at Ista, the Weyrleader was trying to stop a group of riders who were using it for fire-breathing. They were really good, until one of them coughed on the liquor." Cita's expression says that situation didn't end well at all. She misses the flat look, distracted by a bit of flaking hide, but the redoubled mental presence and affection — then the booming voice, bless — certainly draw back her attention. A brief twitch, rapid blinks, and the healer laughs brightly. "Why shouldn't I encourage him, Heryn? You should encourage them when they're young. It's good for their constitution. Of course you will, Xermiltoth! You'll outgrow all of them, I bet." That's an outright lie, she has no idea, but she's totally sure of herself, right. Also of making poor Heryn's life more difficult. That's always a no-brainer. Cita snickers under her breath for the last, making a face that can't even be qualified as innocent. "That's a good nickname."

Xermiltoth may well have barreled on over her words, but that doesn't mean he hasn't heard them. His jaw cocks to one side, not enough to pull out of Cita's hands, but definitely enough for the young bronze to give his future rider a smug glance. R'hyn, for his part, gives the Healer a long look of consideration before realizing he should probably be giving her an amused reaction. The smile on his face is swift and belated, flashing a few too many teeth before Xermi speaks again. « NOW YOU ARE BUT MAKING EXCUSES, CITAYZLEAT. YOU'RE ALMOST AS BAD AS R'HYN. BESIDES, I DO NOT EXPECT HIM TO MEMORIZE THE LAWS ANY MORE THAN I CAN, » failing dragon memory and all, « BUT IT'S NO REASON NOT TO READ AND TO LEARN AND TO TRY TO EDUCATE ONESELF ON THE STATE OF ONE'S WORLD AND WEYR. » A beat and then, cheekily: « PLUS SOME OF THEM ARE JUST DOWNRIGHT FUNNY. DID YOU KNOW THAT AT THE HEALER HALL, IT'S ILLEGAL TO TRANSPORT FIRELIZARD EGGS IN HOSPICE AREAS? OF COURSE, THAT'S A SILLY LAW, BUT ONE DOES WONDER JUST HOW MANY FIRELIZARDS IMPRESSED TO FEEBLE OLD PEOPLE IN ORDER TO MAKE THAT A RULE. » His mind sings with amusement at the very thought, laughter continuing in appreciation for her eyeroll. « I THINK WE CAN AGREE THAT NEITHER IS PREFERABLE. NEGLIGENCE IS ALMOST AS BAD AS PURPOSEFUL DISOBEDIENCE. » Or at least, it is in Xermi-land. Judgmental Eyebrows, meet Judgmental Sunshine, or at least, that's the sensation he tries to imply. “Ah,” Ryn says with a wince when Cita says she's behind on her studies, pointing a look back towards that book on shore as he scrubs between the toes of Xermiltoth's forepaws. “We can go back to studying together?,” he offers with a fond sideways smile. “Clearly I have enough to be reading as well. He's often out eleven or twelve hours of the day.” Which explains the dragon's fidgeting - gotta use the time he has! Luckily, the creature stills for the woman's praise, and she can probably feel the way his ego swells in her mind. « THANK YOU, CITAYZLEAT. IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE ITCHY PLACE BETWEEN MY HEADKNOBS, I WOULD AGREE WITH YOUR OBSERVATIONS. » There is chuckled appreciation for her story from both dragon and weyrling, though it's R'hyn that speaks up this time. “That sounds like Ista,” he agrees. “There was also a time at the weyr where you couldn't trust a cake no matter it's shape or size - it would always have booze in it, or on it, or soaked into it.” So really, it's not that hard to imagine why there's backlash. There might be more tales of Istan woes, but then Cita goes all Brutus with her backstabbing; R’hyn throws his hands up in defeat when the bronze cheerfully states, « WE ARE IN AGREEMENT. ONE MUST ENCOURAGE THE YOUNG. » Yeah, because Xermi needs encouragement. Snrk. « AND YES, I THINK I SHOULD LIKE TO BE CALLED THAT FROM NOW ON. MAKE IT SO, CITAYZLEAT. » Heryn's face clearly illustrates just where Cita may take her constitution and shove it. "Well this has been enough fun for one day. C'mon your Most Esteemed Excellence. Let's get you back inside before you blind everyone with your ego." And indeed the bronze's thoughts are BRIGHTBRIGHTBRIGHT, the sound of him resounding even as R'hyn hooks fingers around a headknob and physically drags him up the beach towards the barracks. « GOODBYE!, » is probably as much farewell as the woman will get from the bronzeling pair, but at this rate, it's bound to leave an impression on her brainmatter so… likely suitable enough, and ultimately for the best.

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