Firestone Bagging and Tossing

Evalla, one hand on her brown lifemate, waves for Madelynda to follow. She looks strict and rather sullen, tired perhaps. "Alright, Maddy. You go there." She points to a group of weyrlings who are bagging firestone. "Nela, you get to break today." She shouts orders to some other milling weyrlings, the moves away to supervise and oil Julinth. Her tone suggests that everyone had better hop to it.

Madelynda nods. "Yes, ma'am," she utters, turning to Phediath. "No, I am sorry, we can't learn water spitting right now. Right now I have to bag firestone. Perhaps you should admire the rising moons, dear." She smiles softly, giving the young queen a pat. "You always like that, now, don't you?"

Ryll heads towards you from the southeast. Ryll has arrived.

Ryll blinks, then pauses. A small smile touches her features, and she sits on a rock outcropping, watching the two of you.

Phediath warbles very softly at Madelynda, no contradiction in her tone but rather a bit of sadness to be shooed off in such a way. Nevertheless, ruffling her wings and bucking her head a bit, she moves quietly away -- as quiet as a dragonet still getting used to being 33 meters from muzzle to tail can be -- and settles down, lowering her head onto the earth and resting it there.

Madelynda smiles softly as Phediath lumbers off, then puts on a pair of heavy gloves that are stuffed deep into the pockets of her black trousers. Moving to the group of 'stone bagging weyrlings, she picks up a bag and bends over, grunting as she picks up two or three fist-sized pieces of broken firestone.

Ryll draws her knees up to her chest and hugs them, watching quietly.

Phediath's head only stays on the ground for a moment...it seems the idea of moon-watching is, indeed, irresistable; and so she uplifts her head tentatively toward Belior. A deep exhale from the flashing gold of her muzzle conveys her wonder at the rising moon, her long neck stretching higher toward the sky as if to touch it with her nose.

Nela, wrestling with a hammer that's clearly too heavy for her, grunts as she lets it fall. She completely misses the piece of firestone she's aiming for, and the hammer hits the earth with a disappointed thud.

Ryll stands and quietly wanders over towards Phediath...not too close, as she doesn't want to upset the queen or be overly familiar...but close enough to smile softly at her.

Madelynda grabs a few more pieces of broken stone from the quickly growing pile created by other, stone-breaking weyrlings. Exhaling tiredly, she stands upright, stretching her back with a wince. Eyes cast toward her lifemate, a soft smile appearing as she watches the moon, and she says under her breath, "Aye, love, 'tis as beautiful as the VTOLs...I know it." Watching Phediath, her smile brightens as Ryll enters her view. With a wary glance at Evalla, who's busy lecturing Nela on how to hammer 'stone at the moment, she cries out to her friend across the bowl, "Heyla, Ryll!" appending it with a little affectionate wave.

Ryll returns the wave with one of her own, and a warm, gentle smile...and a wary glance to make sure Evalla's not watching.

Madelynda catches Ryll's wary glance, and chuckles lightly. Bending over again, her eyes still on Ryll, she picks up a few more pieces of firestone and stuffs it in the sack, which is now about half-full.

Phediath, neck stretched to its most maximum length, begins to create a low and appreciative rumble from the depths of her gleaming, shadowed-gold chest. Almost like an earth-shaker, it makes its way louder and louder out of her until it becomes a high-pitched, praising warble to Belior. She outstretches her wings, sending the tips upward toward the brilliant orb.

Ryll directs her smile to Phediath, as well, her gaze openly admiring of the beautiful young queen.

Phediath lets her wings, reluctantly, furl up again toward her body after a clearing flutter. Shifting her weight from haunch to haunch, she begins to make a slow circle to face the firestone pile. It takes a few moments, since she is a rather large creature now, but ultimately she's able to watch the weyrlings from her distance.

Madelynda chuckles as she hears Phediath's familiar warble, continuing to bend, grab, grip, release, and shake in the habitual movements of firestone bagging. Eyes flickering periodically to her lifemate, she goes from motion to motion with a new, certainty-filled kind of expertise.

Phediath's attention, as it usually does, drifts. Her whirling eyes, once resting on the stack of firestone and the bagging weyrlings, arc across the bowl and settle on Ryll.

Liz walks out of the Weyrling Barracks to the north. Liz has arrived.

Dioth emerges through cavernous opening of the Weyrling Barracks. Dioth has arrived.

Liz walks out of the barracks, on hand on Dioth's side.

Madelynda kneels down, the bag she's been filling now too heavy for her to negotiate in the air. Swiftly, she ties it closed and -- the newly-formed muscles on her arms tensing with the effort -- tosses it nearly 15 meters to another weyrling, who promptly tosses it another 15 meters to a pile of firestone-filled bags.

Liz grins and gives Dioth a gentle push toward Phediath, and she heads for Madelynda. "Hey Maddy, how can I help?"

Phediath's inner eyelids blink, uncertainly. First, she snorts as she contemplates the "inky-haired one." Second, she bucks her head, as if responding enthusiastically from some silent communication from her lifemate. Third, she croons at the figure called Ryll, taking a couple awkward and lumbering steps toward her -- which is all it takes to bridge the gap between them, seeing as how she's ever so much bigger than that small skinny girl over there.

Madelynda grins as she hears Liz's voice. "Heyla, always!" she shouts happily, grabbing an empty bag from a nearby pile, preparing to toss it to her fellow weryling bluerider. Then, she frowns, holding onto the bag. "Although you may prefer breaking?"

Liz shrugs, "Whichever, I can prolly do either one."

Madelynda grins. "I think we're short on fillers. Here," and she tosses the bag to Liz. Taking another empty bag for herself, she begins to fill it in that same habitual style.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath pictures the small figure of Ryll. << Why is she so little? I do not understand. Perhaps she does not drink enough of that brown hot stuff Madlyn likes so much? >>

Liz deftly catches the bag, "They're easier empty, aren't they?" she says to no one in particular. Then she moves foward and begins to fill the bag.

Madelynda hears Liz's comment, and laughs. "Aye, they are. I can say that more than you, though." She sighs, admiring Liz's arms for a moment. "You are ever so much stronger than me." Stuff, grab, stuff, grab, stuff. Again and again, the bag three-quarters full now.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Dioth croons curiously, << My rider doesn't drink that stuff either, but she is also small. I would agree with you Phediath, maybe I can get my rider to drink more. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath considers that a moment, picturing Liz. << Well, when you put it that way, I suppose all the riders are small. But she... >> The image of Ryll returns. << ... she is the smallest human I have ever seen. >>

Liz grins, and continues to fill the bag. "If I'm stronger than you it's because I've done so much more mucking than you." she says, humor coloring her tone. "But seriously, you're taller than me." That seems to come from something Dioth was thinking about.

Madelynda shrugs, almost slouching a little as if to hide her height. "I would much rather be strong, though," she smiles, kneeling on the ground again and making a mess of tying the bag. "But I am getting stronger...or so Evalla says." Looking first to make sure the redshirt is still busy attending to Nela's 'stone hammering, she whispers to Liz, "I think she had direct orders to work me to the bone."

Liz giggles, working to fill her bag quickly. After a couple quick fills, she leans toward Madelynda and giggles, "Same with everybody who watches me, but you know that."

Phediath very slowly begins to lower her head to Ryll's level, one massive and whirling eye almost the size of the girl's head peering at her carefully. Another low, contemplative rumble begins in her chest as she examines her.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Dioth agrees, << Perhaps it is so we can carry them easier. >>

Madelynda winks at Liz, giggling. "Aye, that I did know." Finally, she manages to tie off the bag, standing up and heaving it to her chest before letting it fly to another weyrling, who tosses it to the pile of filled bags.

Liz grins, happily filling the bag. Soon it is full and she lifts it up, carefully using her legs and arms. Then she tosses it to the next weyrling, and it finds its way to the pile.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath rumbles admiringly at the blue's extensive logic. It seems that logic impresses her very much indeed, more than anything else, perhaps. << Ah. Yes. I believe that must be true. You are very smart, Dioth. What else do you know? >> She seems rather thirsty for knowledge, in fact. At least, knowledge from non-bronzes at this point.

Madelynda sighs, filling the next bag, her gloves sooty and grey from firestone dust by now. "How goes that mucking, Liz?" she asks timidly, as if hopeful that it's...well, lessening, maybe.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Dioth seems to puff up as if he can sense the admiration, << If you ask something, I'll try to answer it. >>

Liz grins, a laugh escaping her lips, "It's down to normal. Okay, closer to normal. I don't have double duty every day, now." Then her voice drops, almost conspiratably, "You know, if you wanna build up your muscles...perhaps you would want to take my turn a couple of times."

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath croons appreciately, searching her vast mind as if hoping to select a rather impressive question from her stockpiled accumulation. Rather than ask, she tends to mull over them herself, generally. But Dioth seems like he has something to offer, so she poses one. << Why is that beautiful white circle in the sky called Belior? And why are those beautiful buzzing things with tiny wings called VTOLs? >> She begins to ask another in her excitement, but stops herself short, thinking that should be enough for the moment.

Madelynda raises an eyebrow, but it's hard to tell because she's bent over picking up a few chunks of firestone. When she stands up again, stuffing the 'stone in the bag, she half-smiles. Diplomatically, she answers, "Perhaps I should."

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Dioth croons softly, mulling each question over in his mind. He seems to be afraid to say he doesn't know, so he'll have to think of something. << Perhaps because the pink-things have bad memories for names...and so they choose ones easy for them to remember? >>

Liz giggles and seems to brush the answer away. "Perhaps, just tell me if you ever want to." Then she goes on filling the next bag.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath exhales in a big whoosh. << Perhaps. But look at my rider. Her name is too long. I don't know how anyone could ever remember it. Yet she says that she was not born with her name, but that some person called <Father> gave it to her. >> She snorts. << She also says her name was also her mother's name. I just do not understand these things. How can anyone not know their own name? >> She is clearly confused by all of this.

Madelynda doesn't chuckle, though her face betrays her merriment. Another few pieces, and her bag is full. With more facility than the prior bag, she ties it and tosses it away.

Phediath, whose attention has long ago drifted from Ryll to Belior to the trundlebugs and back again, finally seems to get tired of environment watching. With a croon, she calls over to the firestone pile and the sacking weyrlings, trying to capture her lifemate's attention.

Madelynda looks up at Phediath, and exhales in a weary sigh. Her expression shows, however, that the weariness is not a result of her lifemate's call, but more from the physical exertion of the bagging. "Yes, dear," she murmurs, then looks toward Evalla. "Ma'am? Phediath itches. May I go oil her?"

Liz tosses more handfulls into the bag, "Good throw, Maddy. I think you're getting alot stronger." Then she puts a couple more handfulls in, ties up the bag and tosses it.

Evalla, who is by now oiling her own brown lifemate, gives a terse nod. "Your dragon comes first, Madelynda," she says, turning back instantly to her task.

Madelynda nods at Evalla and grins at Liz, very pleased at the compliment. "You think so?" she asks, stretching out her arms. "I can't tell." She flexes her arm muscle, giggling as a small but nicely cut bulge appears. "Well...maybe just a little." Sighing as her gaze moves to Phediath, who is moving closer, "Phediath says she is very proud of my new bulges."

Liz grins, "She has a right to be, you are much stronger now." She picks up another bag to start filling.

Madelynda grins again, walking toward Phediath and joining her in her trek toward the barracks. "See you in a bit, Liz. Don't overdo it." She winks, though, as if absolutely certain that her strong fellow weyrling could never do that.

Phediath lumbers off into the Weyrling Barracks. Phediath has left.

You walk into the huge opening of the Weyrling Barracks.

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