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Harper's Tale 2 - Friday, May 17, 2002, 6:24 PM

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Beach
Ancient dunes have been flattened by the endless parade of people and dragons that tramp northwest across the bowl, leaving a mere skiff of sand here along lake's beaten edge. Footprints litter the curve of beach, some left turns ago and caught frozen in the heavy clay earth near the water's edge. As the sun sets, shadows invade, creeping like fingers across the gently sloping ground and darkening the distant ledges on the far side of the lake.
To the north, dust rises from the redolent pens while the flattened disc of the main bowl is just a step to the northwest.
It is an autumn noon.
To the northwest, you see twelve dragons.
Darting here and there are nine firelizards.
Green Vespurath is here.
You see Toshiro here.
Tatia is here.
Obvious exits:
Stables     Feeding Pens     Central Bowl     Lake

Slithering down the straps-ladder, Wyn slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

Tatia is curled against her dragon's side, legs tucked beneath her and a light blanket pulled tight around her shoulders as Vespurath's shoulder provides a sturdy surface to lean against. A hide is spread across her lap, but it's not getting much attention as she speaks instead, intonation ringing in that strange half-verbal, half-mental speak she tends to adopt when explaining the mysteries of the universe to her lifemate, complete with hand motions and gestures. Vespurath, for her part, looks as rapt as a dragon can manage, and her neck is curled round to peer as best she can at Tatia.

With a ruffle of backwinging, Vorkoroth descends from above to land on the beach, at a courteous enough distance to avoid spattering other sunlight-seekers with sand. Wyn soon dismounts, aided by a courtly foreleg, and leans companionably against the growing blue as she spots Tatia and Vespurath. A slight smile tugs at the bland expression, pulling it away for a moment as Vor offers a half-curious half-greeting rumblepurr to the green.

Vespurath is quick to respond with an irritated, half-hearted rumble of greeting. The rumble grows into a low growl as Tatia's attention shifts and her hands freeze in mid-gesture while she turns to look at the arrivals. "Afternoon, Wyn!" she greets with little regard for the story she interrupted. Knowing Vesp, she would have had to repeat it again tonight, anyway. Might as well hope the blue can distract her for now.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath's tones are wreathed in bright flashed of yellow that proclaim her annoyance. << Vorkoroth. Tatia is telling me a /story/. Look what you've done! >> A picture of Tatia, moving further and further away from the green, despite the fact that she's still physcially curled against her side, is flashed is swift distress.

"Hullo, Tatia," is Wyn's reply, taking the greeting as an acceptable invitation to move a little closer, Vorkoroth moving along at her shoulder and offering a sudden abject croon towards Vespurath. One /so/ abject that he's decidedly not serious, but... One /does/ have to be nice to girls. Wyn gestures briefly towards the hide in Tat's lap. "Don't let us interrupt you... storytelling?" she inquires, settling in the sand as well, Vor arranging himself so that she's between his forelegs so he can whuffle posessively at her.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a slow and steady spiral of midnight, tinged with a mist of grey. Soothing. <<My humble apologies, m'lady Vespurath. If you might forgive me enough, I assure you that Wyn and I should be pleased to keep silence and hear this tale as well...?>>

"Please," Tatia responds dryly, ignoring the green muzzle that's now nudging at her shoulder. "By all means, interrupt. She's heard this one before.. and I'm sure I'll have to tell it again." Vespurath huffs in response, sending Tatia's hair flying with her breath. At least she hasn't eaten in a few days. "Vesp!" the greenrider admonishes. "Stop that." She turns back to Wyn, giving an eyeroll in the direction of her lifemate. "I swear, Eitan's going to pass her in maturity levels soon." Proven by the bratty look Vespurath shoots toward the interrupting pair.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath shoots sharp triangles of red through the peaceful grey mists, shattering the serenity as they explode into a rather painfully vibrant shade of green. << You've already done it, >> she states sulkily. << And now Tat won't tell it again. You've already ruined my story, and I'll have to beg and beg to get her to tell it again. >>

Wyn offers a dryly amused look, and despite Vorkoroth's mental urging that she shut up and let Tatia tell the tale, because for /heavens'/ sake, Vespurath is being a /gurl/, and not at all sensible like Wyn, settles more firmly in the sand and continues to chat. "Oh it's likely. Although for some, I've noticed that the brattiness is more a foil to help manipulate others to their will..." Either that, or she just resents Vespurath getting Vor in a baffled, manic burst of plotting.

Tatia shakes her head swiftly. "Oh, no. What you really have to worry about is when she starts being /nice/. That, or sending great, pitiful sniffles into my head." The greenrider's nose wrinkles with disgust at the thought as she glances toward her now-distracted lifemate. "/That's/ when the manipulating starts." Ok. So maybe Vesp /does/ whimper. But only when it can be used, carefully, as a tool. This is one green who knows how to get what she wants. Tat's wrapped around her little finge.. er.. talon?

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he's mental tizzy is directed solely to Wyn. /Vespurath/ gets treated to a calm control, tinged with just a hint of good old fashioned sexism. Because you see, outside of flights, girl dragons are to be treated nicely, and left along to do whatever mysterious things they do, while the guys go play the draconic equivalent of paintball or something. The vibrant green is swaddled with dampening bands of black as he notes that <<If it is done, and cannot be un-done, then what is the use of whimpering about it?>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath is sullen now. Hey! Why can't /she/ play paintball? She'd take bets that her spirals could outmanuver any male out there. She remains wrapped in a cloak of sulky green as Vorkoroth speaks. She's quick to sense patronising.. and she doesn't like it. << You shouldn't have /done/ it in the first place, then, >>

Wyn shakes her head. "Dragons," she muses, with equal tinges of amusement and old exasperation in the tone. "At least it's never dull with one. /Vor/ is a little easier to handle, I think. He'll go for manipulation, but it's straight up fast talk. I've had enough of that with a few of my younger half-brothers that I can deal..." A pause. "I /think/ I can deal." A sudden suspicious look up at Vorkoroth, who's still sitting there playing the slightly-chauvinist aristocrat to the hilt.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he can't help it! If Vesp fits into his cultural programming as a frilly female, he'll be patronizing. A good arse-whupping at paintball would probably help greatly. <<You're sulking.>> he notes in a swirl of silver blue. Amused?

"To say the least," Tatia replies dryly before starting forward as Vespurath gives a much more energetic shove to her 'rider's shoulder. Enough to make her stumble a bit and turn, one hand supporting her, to scowl at her dragon, now retreating to her own private sulk. "Fine, then!" she calls at the green's back. "See if I finish it tonight, if you're going to be like that!" You'd think the pair hated each other, from the way they go on... until one or the other is challenged by an outsider. She turns back to Wyn, head shaking as she stands and slips the blanket from her shoulders to spread is across the ground. "Yeah, well.. I know /I'm/ a shameless pushover.. but it's hard to stand up to someone who lives inside your head and knows all your buttons," she points out.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath will just continue to sulk, then. Until such time as she can prove herself at a good paintball whooping. The shroad of green darkens and wraps tighter around her words. << You're being annoying. I can sulk if I want to. >>

Wyn jumps slightly as Vorkoroth gives an upper-crust snort, at a range too close to her ears for comfort. He noses at her briefly by way of apology, before returning to poking at Vespurath. Apparently both dragon and rider have a low taste in humour at times. Wyn then gives a wry smile. "Too true, alas. Although... the upside is that you also know all of theirs..." she allows, nestling closer to the blue.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he snorts on the mindscape as well, a tremblor running quickly across the smooth landscape of graduating blues, blacks and greys. <<Whoever said you couldn't, dear lady. And your rider made her own descision to address mine... Whine to /her/.>> A sudden compression of black hints at a 'There's a girl.' prudently cut off.

Tatia shakes her head with a wry smile as she drops down to settle atop the now spread blanket. "True.. but somehow she still seems to always come out on top," she mentions with an undenably fond glance toward her sulking lifemate. "I think she's just more persistant than I am.. and /Shards/, but that dragon can have a single-track mind at times."

T'am has arrived.

T'am sweeps to the Central Bowl.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath thinks << I'm not whining! >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a simple whisp of celestial black to escape and twist teasingly near Vespurath's presence, too ephemeral to be properly swatted away.. <<Methinks you protest too much, milady. And I might add that you needn't be speaking with me. You simply keep... replying. But... I suppose girls /do/ like to talk.>>

Wyn sniffs a quiet laugh. "Likely because, having such poor memories, they have less to distract them when something manages to stick there..." she theorizes. "Faranth, I remember when Issryuith apparently got the entire clutch convinced that trundlebugs had to die. /Vor/ wasn't the worst about it, but he was still bloody persistant.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath is indignant now, and sudden white-hot sparks explode from green to shoot outward, lighting blackness with no intention of merely swatting away. << /You/ have no idea. A girl? What does being a /girl/ have to do with it? /I/ could outfly you, outswim you, outrun you.. any day. I'd like to see /you/ chase when I go up. >> A smug twist of gold twines around her words. << Or anytime. /Weyrling/. You're still a child. >> And Vespurath, in all her maturity, is far, far beyond that.

"Better than some trains of thought he could get stuck on," Tatia replies with a tilt of her head. The greenrider's arms stretch behind her, supporting her weight while she regards the blueling. "Still. It's hard to combat a prescence that likes to relentlessly insist on something and completely resists logic."

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a quick flash of steel to slice through his tones, filleting the black and grey, which recoalesce after it's passage. <<Yelling.>> he notes in a calmly pedantic tone that's eerily akin to one Wyn uses when baiting. <<Is hardly neccessary. And as for chasing you... whyever should I want to chase someone acting so childish, when there are many other greens. /I/ have my age as explanation. What is yours?>> The last offered almost in a purring tone.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath thinks <</That/ was hardly yelling, >> Vespurath replies primly before that smug gold expands to encompass her entire mindvoice. << Knew you were scared. Too bad.>> Lovely how that childish mind can pick out the bits it likes and ignore the rest.

From above, Shadamehl suddenly disappears ::between::!

Wyn seems oblivious to any mental sparring between the draconic halves of the foursome on the beach, glancing about before deciding that the beach is sufficiently deserted that she can remove the scrap of hide holding the sketch she's been working on, pull the charcoal pencil from an inside pocket of her jacket, and start work again. "Quite true. Although I suppose you could always turn the tables... Wait for an opportune moment, and do a little psychological warfare of your own...?" Vor eyes Wyn uneasily a moment, and briefly assures her that he'd /never/ pull a Vesp on /her/. He's far more subtle. Yup. Ooops, did he say that out loud?

Tatia has long since learned to tune out her lifemate's conversations - something she's regretted once or twice. But it tends to get rather tiring keeping up with childish challenges and whining. She shakes her head, eyeing the bit of hide with interest even as she replies. "Doesn't work.. trust me, I've tried. I can keep the klah away.. not let her in the weyr.. but she just doesn't have the same.. erm.. soft spots I do, I suppose," she explains. "They think differently.. and Vesp.. well. She's always known the weyr. The people here. I grew up in a hold, then a craft.. things come a bit differently." Subtle? Bah. Vesp doesn't need subtle when outright guilt trips work so well on her rather insecure lifemate.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he's mindscape trembles thrice in a mental headshake. <<So childish.>> he clucks, more to himself. (Yeah right.) <<Yes, Branwyth and Imbriath are /far/ more interesting.>> His mental presence wanders off a pace, pausing at the edges of perception in a hovering cloud and /waiting/. It's an obvious ploy, but /could/ prove amusing.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath is silent for a moment. It's even a long moment. But really.. in the end.. the childish green can't leave it alone. Besides. She wouldn't want to disappoint Vorkoroth, would she? << If that's what you like, >> she states snidely. Nevermind that she gets along quite well with her clutchmates. She's making a point.

"Mmmm..." allows Wyn thoughtfully, ceasing her suggestions to simply nod. "Well, you two seem to get along reasonably well. Like family. Pick at each other, but woe to any outsiders who try...?" she hazards, adding a few painstaking lines to her sketch. "And I suppose I can see how weyr life could be a change. I was weyrbred myself, after all, but I spent enough time at Healer to get exposure to other views."

"And we all love family," Tatia returns with a dry smile that suggests, despite the faintly sarcastic tinge to her words, she actually means them. After all, she's still got Eitanex under her care, despite the flurry of weyr nannies. The greenrider blinks at Wyn in surprise. "I'd forgotten you were a Healer.. I grew up in a family of them. Yes... weyrlife was... an adjustment." She laughs shortly, the sound barely making it beyond a snort. "Riding /green/ was an adjustment. Shards, just riding was a big enough change in itself."

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he snickers a soft roil of starshimmer against a black field, before the ripples cease and still so completely that one might wonder if they'd ever existed. <<Tsk. Such a tone from someone who patently doesn't care that I don't care to chase her. How... curious.>>

Stratus appears suddenly from ::between::, his tail curling behind him like a trail of smoke as he selects a perch.

Wyn echoes the smile. "Can't live with them, but decidedly can't live without them either," she agrees, before the smile turns dryly amused. "Or, in my case, can't live /away/ from them. I believe this is the first place I've been, where I've not tripped over one of my half-sibs... But your family are Healers?" she inquires, looking suddenly quite interested. "I never knew that. So what Craft were /you/ in, then?"

Tatia nods quickly. "Oh yeah.. both parents, and.. " She pauses, expression going a bit blank as she mentally stretches for the current location of her siblings. "Three siblings, I think." The greenrider shrugs, offering a wry smile. "I can't really keep track anymore. But I was StarCraft, not Healer.. mam didn't think I'd the dedication for it," she explains before grinning suddenly. "And look where I ended up.. talk about something that takes dedication, hmm?"

Wyn offers a quick twinkle of grey eyes, before returning them to her labourious attempts at drawing. "Ah, but this sort of dedication has the advantage that one can't really back out of it. I mean, look at S'titch. Got /horribly/ airsick, but he had to learn to work through it all the same. Although..." she muses. "I'm still not sure I want to be flying below him in a formation..."

"Or Sii'kyn," Tatia adds. "I didn't know the boy was scared of dragons. Must be hard." So said with much more sympathy than the rider himself ever actually gets from the greenrider. "But yes, 'riding definately does a bit to teach you responsibility.. whether you want it or not." A smile quirks upwards. "Ah, not to worry about that. Just get yourself tapped into a different wing than his, hmm?"

Vespurath sulks. Sulk sulk. She's really quite good at it. Her green tail lashes back and forth in a catlike way, giving away her thoughts. She shall /have/ her revenge. Mwahahaha. Haha. Ha. Ahem. Anyhoo, the pouting green is going to shoot an unreadable glance toward her nemesis, Vorkoroth, one that certainly spells his doom at the hands of the childish green.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath's tones are blank. Completely blank. They're a cloudy gray sky, but one that doesn't cary rain. And they have no odor, either, much like those ugly, overcast, not-rainy days. << You don't sound very curious at all, >> Sniping childish tone states, her voice nasal and quite annoying. << I'm still not sure, >> And she stresses stil with that same snide tone of voice, << Why you're making such a point. I don't rise. You can't chase. >> So there. Mwaha. Picture a tongue sticking out.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he is suffering from a case of suffused laughter, evident in a sudden distortion of the starscape, a tangle of silver nexus-lines tangling and then restoring themselves to fade into five-space. <<Ah, milady,>> he advises, apparently /really/ planning on getting his headknobs slapped. <<But it was /you/ who brought up the topic of flights. And you who continue to sustain a conversation that you /apparently/ find repugnant. Curious indeed.>>

Vespurath's eyes actually widen. /What/? A male she can't wrap around her pinky toe? Wow. There is something /rather/ wrong with this picture. And therefore, she's going to have to try a little bit harder, now isn't she? Still with that unconscious grace, she emerges from her sulk and stretches out, lounging. Mmm. Green. Purrr. And her eyes, though their whirling gets no more placid, begin to droop a little, as with boredom.

"I was scared of dragons," admits Wyn in a sudden bit of revelation. "Not of dragons /physically/, mind. But of the mental front." She tilts her head to gaze up at Vorkoroth, and rubs at a pair of silver markings along the border of a thoughtfully lowered head and neck, rumbling a soft purr to Wyn, and leaving Vespurath in peace. For the moment. Checkmate?

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath thinks << You. Are. Not. Curious. >> Defiant, isn't she? And she still doesn't deviate away from the gray thing, but this time it's more of an unyielding steel-gray. Same lack of emotion, but less docile. Mwahaha. << You're not very observant, >> She notes with a haughtiness that kind of fails, due to her childish nature and therefore high, soprano voice. << If you can't tell the difference between a conversation and an action. >> So there. Snotty voice continues, << Not only do I have no problem with Flights, I don't mind talking about them. I just don't do them. >> And of course, she must add, << So there. >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he shakes his head again. Patronizing? Oh yes. And apparently more fascinated by the prospect of antagonizing Vespurath than he cares to let on. Since he continues to reply, a gentle spiral added to the starscape, the lights beginning to twist into clusters and nebulae. <<Odd.>> he allows. <<Particularly when I overheard a few of the elder males discussing your... last flight. You can induce weyr-wide delusions? A laudable talent indeed.>> A gentle touch, and one nebula begins to form a proto-star of humour.

Vespurath purrs. Or well, as close to a dragon can come to a purr. And it doesn't appear as if she's particularly trying. It just sort of comes out. Vorkoroth? What Vorkoroth? He's not even there. Or at least, so it appears from the green's outter appearance. In a moment, she'll probably switch tactics, but the ignoring thing is doing well...for now.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath's starscape has nothing on Vespurath's imagination and it's quite obvious that the night sky -- or merely the vacum -- of Vorkoroth's mind doesn't impress the green. Or if it does, she does a damn fine job of hiding it. << I have many talents, >> She mentions, her voice that of someone who is unbelieving that their conversational partner didn't know that. << Many more than you, I'm quite sure. >> And this, of course, has nothing to do with flights. This has to do with Vespurath's innate need to show up everyone around her.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he doesn't mind. /He/ prefers low key, and his nebulae amuse him. Therefore, he continues to spin them, swirling wordlessly, mockingly, around the edges of the green's presence, an unreadable, indistinct form that refuses to go away. Or surrender. After all, a true Vor warrior can't just be made to buckle by a woman's words! That, and this is rather fun. And Wyn isn't stopping him.

"I was scared of dragons," admits Wyn in a sudden bit of revalation. "Not of dragons /physically/, mind. But of the mental front." She tilts her head to gaze up at Vorkoroth, and rubs at a pair of silver markings along the border of a thoughtfully lowered head and neck, rumbling a soft purr to Wyn, and leaving Vespurath in peace. For the moment. Checkmate?

"Probably justified, that bit," Tatia remarks dryly before Wyn gets a closer look from the greenrider. "Why, though? I mean.. I'll give you, I had a lot of doubts both times I Stood.. but I don't think I was ever /scared/.. of the mental bit of it."

Wyn's sketching ceases a moment, as she nibbles on the end of her pencil, thinking. And deciding whether or not to actually spill. So far, only about two other people have gotten this glimpse of the Inner Wyn. Can Tat be trusted? Another moment goes by, Vorkoroth adding encouragement in the form of a silver-gilded tail that rests heavily across her lap. A nod. And she begins slowly. "I suppose... Well..." A pause. "I'm a rather... private... person. I prefer to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. And a dragon... is an entire other entity that's suddenly and permanently sharing your mind. And they can be /horrid/ gossips. My father's brown can't keep a secret to save his precious hide. So I suppose I feared... a loss of self." A fond smile touches her lips then, as she rubs at the tailtip in her lap. "Vorkoroth, however, is as discreet as /I/ am."

Strangely enough, Tat's one of the most remarkably trustworthy people around. In large part because few ever bother to get close enough to hear any secrets she might have.. or be gaurding gor others. A small smile appears, and Tatia's eyes are drawn unconscously toward her own lifemate. "Well.. the dragon is supposed to know," she agrees softly before looking back toward Wyn. "But.. yes, I see that. It's not something I'd ever.. thought about, before Impressing. I was worried about other things. And after.. well, it was too late then, wasn't it?" she states with a small smile that indicates she doesn't mind all /that/ much. "Still.. even after all these turns.. I'm not entirely sure I'm used to not having my thoughts to myself. Though you do learn a bit of.. separation, I guess. How to block off a tiny little corner for yourself. And there are advantages." Now Tat's echoing what others have said, though she's doing a rather credible job of it. Her gaze fastens on Wyn, and she leans forward a bit. "So it's working out all right for you, then? Vorkoroth?" As if she's ever had someone reply 'no' to that statement. Bothersome they can be.. but none would ever take back that moment of Impression.

Wyn nods along slightly at Tat's speech, still letting Vorkoroth's tail curl gently about her midriff, although she offers a quick "I'm /fine/, love!" as he attempts to nuzzle at her hair. The fact that her head can just about fit up one large blue nostril now is... a little off-putting. Dragon boogers. Urgh. She leans back against Vor's chest as Tat leans forward, giving a firmer nod. "Oh yes... I would have signed you up for therapy before, if you'd suggested it, but Vor... really is exactly what I need. And I for him. I have... precious little talent for intrapersonal relationships, so it's nice to have /one/ mind that knows me for what I am."

Vespurath, meanwhile, is going to give up her 'ignoring' of Vorokorth in order to slink over to her rider, curling her relatively small, emerald body around Tatia. See? See what a good lifemate? That's why she gets klah. Sagenod. Warm, slightly singed air is blown Tatia's direciton. Just for good measure.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath's mind is rather fuzzy, as if it's no longer paying attention to Vorkoroth. Which it isn't, but that's not the point. Words come back, but they too are a little blurry. << Lovely day, >> The green mentions with no comment as to the rest of the heated conversation they just had. Easily forgiven and forgotten, isn't he?

Tatia laughs suddenly, and Vorkoroth gets an amused smile. "Indeed. You, my friend, are talking to someone who has managed to get through most of her life without interpersonal relationships. At the very least, Vespurath is always going to love me for my stories." So said with a glance over her shoulder toward her lifemate. An expression of complete devotion flickers for a second, gone almost before it appears, and a slow smile spreads as a comment is thrown toward Vespurath before she looks back toward Wyn, blinking with afterthought. "Therapy? You were a mindhealer, then?"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he is bemused, a ripple of navy tinging the slate grey of his mind. But cordial enough, as a rare tinge of yellow trickles across the darker tones. <<Quite, milady. I do believe it shall soon snow, however.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath doesn't appear to concerned, her entire voice laid back with the bright greens of a verdant pasture and the sweet smell of fresh hay. She's carefree, isn't she? << So? Snow's fun. Epecially when you cover your ledge with it. >> Sagenod. Pretend that Tatia doesn't mind.

Awww. Of course, Wyn being Wyn, and prone to the occasional sappy moment herself, doesn't comment, instead snuggling more cozily up against Vorkoroth as an autumn breeze wanders through. She nods. "Mmm, yes, I was. A trainee only, but I had The Butcher himself for a mentor." A fond smile, as if in reminisce. Knives, ferrets, getting odd looks from the other apprentices...

"The Butcher?" Tatia's brow wrinkles, and she eyes Wyn warily. "Somehow I'd be hard put to trust any Healer who felt the need to call himself that." Because obviously that title belongs to a male. No female would be so silly. She shifts, legs crossing to sit indian style as she pulls the back of her blanket up around her shoulders again. The autumn air can bite. "I take it you liked mindhealing, then?"

Vespurath purrs contentedly, laying her head just in front of her rider's feet. Even if she's being loving, she still wants ome scritches. Eyes whirl slowly casting a sapphire light upon Tatia's legs.

Wyn nods. "Senior Journeyman Jathen," she qualifies. "Formerly the Butcher of High Reaches, because he saw so much raw meat from Threadscores." A shrug. "Or so I was told. I believe the knives help with the image as well..." she trails off, realizing that, to a non-Healer, this is likely not at all reassuring. Hell, it's not at all reassuring to many /Healers/. But, she at last gives a nod. "I did. The mind is... a /fascinating/ study."

"Jathen?" Tatia questions with faint surprise. Her brow furrows as she searches her mind for a moment. "That name sounds familar... " And then she glances up, eyes widening before she grins. "Oooh. I remember. He must've still been at the Hall.. knew this other apprentice or something, because we were sneaking out and he caught us. Don't think he'd remember me. Don't think he thougth very much of me," she states, slight smirk indicating that she's doesn't particularly care. "Still.. any Healer who plays with knives is a bit.. odd." She nods, allowing that subject to rest as her brows rise at Wyn's statement. "Really? Well.. if you ever figure it out, let me know, hmm?" She barely understands the workings of her /own/ mind most of the time.. let alone someone elses.

Vespurath snorts rather skeptically, tail swishing back and forth with annoyance and her eyes sparking yellow now and again. Protective and excitable, isn't she? You wouldn't think...and you usually don't when you're around Vespurath. She's kind of contagious.

Wyn laughs. "That sounds about right. But really, a great deal of it is bluster. Play it cool and don't back down when you're right, and he's a fine mentor." The laugh tapers off to a dry smile as she notes that "Most of the best Healers are odd... and Mindhealers are among the oddest. I myself am fairly odd as well, you know." And by the time the final sentance comes around, she's slipped into a deadpan expression. A whuff of agreement escapes from Vorkoroth, occasionaing a poke from the other half of the blueling pair. "You aren't supposed to agree with me, sir."

"Of course," Tatia replies with a nod of agreement even as Wyn rebukes Vorkoroth. She grins faintly, and her hands rise in response to draconic demand to scratch absently at available eyeridges. "Well.. you shouldn't state it if you don't want agreement, you know," she intones with a half-smile before she steers the subject back toward healing. "So do you miss it, then?"

Vorkoroth offers an ingenuously unrepentant little rumble-purr in reply to Wyn, eyes whirling mischeviously before he lowers his head to rest alongside her, and simply sits. Silent company as Wyn offers a humorously arched eyebrow to Tatia before pondering again. "I do, sometimes," she allows. "I had been planning to devote my life to Healing, and I was... profoundly happy... with that goal. But I'd not go back, if it meant giving up Vorkoroth. But..." more musing, the normally self-contained weyrling attempting to form thoughts into words. "I think I'll always be a Healer, even if I never see another needlethorn in my life. The tenets and principles still guide me, I find. So Vorkoroth and I have both decided that we'll seek Dragonhealer training once we graduate."

Tatia smiles easily, nodding as her fingers continue to curl over hide, easily seeking out the spots that Vespurath favors. She's been doing this for turns. "Can never have too many dragonhealers.. our wing's short on them at the moment, actually," she states, eyeing Wyn briefly before shaking her head. "I doubt anyone ever really escapes their craft. I mean, look at me.. I ended up Impressing a dragon who makes me read more star hides than I ever did in the cr..." Her statement ends abruptly, and the rider straightens, hands stilling, to stare at Vespurath as she bursts out "/Broken/!?" Um.. just ignore that.

Broken. Indeed. The dragon looks rather smug, both due to the scritches and the fact that Tatia managed to break her strong control and burst out into public. Mwaha. Her wish for attention overcomes anything else, however, and she butts that green head of hers against Tatia's hand. You're layin' down on the job, love. Oh, and her tail swishes back and forther contentedly. Aaaah.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath's tones are muddy with confusion, as if her entire world has just been shattered. Then again, a lot of things can shatter Vespurath's entire world. It's as if a mist has finally come in, clouding all vision but that which is direction in front of you. << Can a dragon ever be broken? >> Well. That was relatively amibiguous, but the impression that's flashed at the weyrling is not. Quite obviously, she's thinking of the sexual side of things. Impotency. Ack.

Wyn and Vorkoroth both jump slightly at the greener's yelp, before twin expressions of sly amusement creep onto their faces. Or in Vorkoroth's case, into his eyes. Eyes which suddenly whirl as he focuses on Vespurath in polite puzzlement, rumbling a reply as Wyn nods, and then /blinks/ at Tatia. "Broken...?" Ignore it? Wyn? Surely you jest.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that his grey and blue suddenly convulses, choking down a slightly scandalized laugh, perhaps? But, gamely, he ventures an answer. <<Broken... Ah, perhaps? Any reason that you ask? /I'm/ not broken.>> he assures with a touch of blustery male ego. <<Just too young, yet.>>

Vespurath is going to have to prove her point and therefore stands, moving her head away from Tatia's touch and snorting at the same time. Feline grace glides her across the intervening space between herself and Vorkoroth. Uh oh...hold still, lovely. This won't hurt...much...

[OOC:] Wyn eyes. Taaat, is your dragon trying to rape mine? ;)

Tatia doesn't have to answer, though. "Um.. Vesp.." she offers by way of semi-explanation before her hands resume the scritching. Back by popular demand! Tat scratches! Ahem. Her gaze is fixed rather firmly on her work. No need to explain about Vespurath's off the wall theories. But.. wait.. Vesp is moving. This is Bad. "Vesp?" she questions aloud. "Um.. where are you going?"

[OOC:] Tatia hides. I have /no/ clue.
[OOC:] Wyn points at Vesp. "Corrupting a minor!"

Vorkoroth senses Vespurath mentions, offhandedly, << That counts. >> Because if it ain't fixed, it's broken, now isn't it? << Well then. That's perfect. >> Apparently Vesp is attempting to make a point and her defiant, navy-blue mindtones are quite indicative of that. << Might I have a look? >> The green inquires. Mind you, she probably has no idea what she's looking for, but that's not the point. << Please?>>

Vespurath ^ will be gentle?
Vespurath ^ dangs. So close.

Wyn blinks. And suddenly scuffles out of the way as Vespurath moves in. No squishing weyrlings. She flops down on the blanket beside Tatia as Vorkoroth offers a puzzled croon. Wyn? Wyn? Where are you going? What's she /doing/? She echoes as much to Tatia. "Tatia... what exactly is Vespurath planning to /do/ to my dragon?" Eyes unfocus as a message is relayed. "/What/!?!?"

"He is not broken and you should not fix him and... /what/ are you doing?" Tatia begins in a flurry of words before her gaze flies, wide-eyed, toward Wyn. "Um.. I don't know. I'm not.. sure I want to know," she responds. "She was talking about K'nex being broken, and then it turned to dragons, and..." Follow /that/ to its logical conclusion.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he stammers, surprised out of his suaveness for once. Hey, after all he's not used to girls taking an interest in certain... bits. Ignorance is bliss?? <<I'm not broken. I'm jsut not quite gown yet. And...a proper gentleman doesn't just... fling himself onto the nearest lady. He... takes his time, drinks a little wine, plays a little music...>> OK, so he's rapidly stealing Wyn's thoughts on men, so sue him. A sudden stop, the shivering dance of blue sparks halting. <<Look? At /what/? Haven't you... dealt with males before?>> Ahem.

Vespurath hauls herself up short, before reaching the blue. After all, he's blustering on about wine the such like. Her eyes whirl a little faster, either with confusion, or she's attempting to be soothing. And not doing a very good job of it. Her tail continues to flicker back and forth, glancing back and forth between Vorkoroth and Tatia. What's wrong? She can't have a look? Apparently Vesp has no qualms with looking at certain bits. Call it a childish mindset -- there's nothing special about them...is there? Well, besides the obvious...

Wyn eyes Vespurath more warily still. "She had better not..." Pause. Naw, she /couldn't/ do that. Could she? "Do anything?" finishes the blueling lamely, looking pleadingly at Tatia. She's /your/ dragon. Make her stop. Since poor Vorkoroth is too baffled by the entire tableau, and too well trained in manners to actually be sensible and fly far, far away.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath meanwhile, isn't finished with Vorkoroth even if she has /physically/ stopped short of the non-broken blue. As for her interest in his bits, it's purely scientific. She has no sex-drive, remember? She's one of those rare non-rising greens. mwaha. << Well of course not. I just wanted to have a look at some non-broken parts. I've never looked before. Maybe I can have a look at Dsalth's or Rubyth's later. >> Because they're old and broken down. Suddenly, however, sparks of interest streak through the green's yellow-smudged, curious mind. << Or Shirasuth! If he's broken, maybe Shirasuth's broken! >> He being K'nex, of course, as the mindimage mentions. << Of course I've delt with males before. Besides, if they aren't fully mature, wouldn't it be /better/ for me look at them now? >> How does /that/ logic work? Oh, that's right, it doesn't!

"I'm /trying/," Tatia states somewhat desparately. "But I told you.. she doesn't listen to me.. I don't know what.. /Vesp/!" Now she's pleading with her lifemate, eyes rather frantic. "Stop it!"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he ceases gibbering just a tad. Even if Vespurath is still obnoxiously present in his mind, she's at least stopped coming closer. <<How does /that/ work?>> he queries, attempting to regather some of his shattered dignity. <<Why should the maturity level of my parts have anything to do with whether or not you should look at them? Your logic is flawed.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath obviously doesn't agree due to the pitch-black wall of denial. << Well, I mean, they won't look the same when you're all mature 'n stuff. So you don't have to feel violated. Besides, you shouldn't feel violated anyway. They're just /parts/. You can look at mine if you want. >> BLINK. << You can look at any part of mine you'd like. >> The sad part is, it's entirely innocent, as is obvious by both tone and actual background of her words, an innocent sky-blue. << Besides, it has to do with the happiness of my rider. Please? >>

Wyn sighs. "Well..." she concedes. "I'm sure that Vorkoroth won't actually let her /look/ at them. Right?" Another glance at Tatia. Who, as the senior rider here /must/ have dealt with this before. Right? Please? And behold the rare sight of Wyn completely off-balance.

"She.. can be very persuasive," Tatia replies after a reluctant moment. Her eyes are still fixed on the pair, and her hands are clenched at her side. Rare to be offbalanced? Welcome to Tat's life. She lives with this. In her head. Every day.

Cue evil music. Mwahahahaha. Haha. Curtesy of Vespurath Inc.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he retreats behind a facade of upper-crust obstructionism. <<I do /not/ feel violated.>> he protests, in a stuffy tone. <<I simply do not feel that it is... proper... for a gentleman to show off his parts to whatever lady should inquire about them. Not proper, you see. Parts have a... specific purpose. Therefore I assure you that all parts look fairly similar to other parts.>> A pause, and his presence retreats as he queries of Wyn, to return triumphantly with a <<Wyn informs me that broken parts look the same as working parts. That it is a... psychologickal.. problem. So therefore you don't need to see my parts.>> Hah!!

Apparently Vorkoroth is quite persuasive, for the dragon doesn't appear to be too inclined to look at the parts. Or at least not /as/ inclined. In any event, she's not moving closer and she's not attempting to poke her green nose over where no nose should really ever go. Which is just as well.

See Vorkoroth. See Vorkoroth run. Or at least start to shuffle cautiously away from Vespurath again. A Vor might be loathe to retreat, but let's call this a... tactical readjustment?

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath replies with a rather blank slate once again. She's been stumped for a moment. At least. << But I'm not a lady. Besides, I'm special. You don't have to show your bits to /everyone/ if you don't want to. Besides, if I show you mine, it's only fair. >> Strangely enough, she actually somewhat has a point there. Somehow. In that twisted green mind of hers. In /any/ event... << How does she know? Has she ever seen broken and non-broken parts side by side? Because I know Tatia hasn't. And I sure haven't. So why would she have? She hasn't been riding as long. >> These points are disturbing, plain and simple.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he is back to ripples of blue and grey, calm and controlled again, even if his rider is still decidedly leery. <<Oh, you are most certainly a lady, Vespurath,>> he assures suavely, not realizing that suave might just come back and bite him in the butt in this situation. <<And, ah, I thank you for the offer, but I really don't care to see your parts.>> Then, thinking about the capricious nature of females, he tacks on a hurried silver sparkle of <<Although I'm sure that you have very /nice/ parts, I just... don't care to see any parts right now? /Any/ parts.>>

Vespurath, for whatever reason, moves closer to the blue and waggles her rear end closer to him. Because apparently he wants to see it. Or so she took it. Vesp takes a lot of things the wrong way. And you never quite knoe if it's on purpose or not. Her face is smug, even if her words aren't exactly following suit.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath thinks << How would you know? >> The green's voice is innocently curious -- on the outside. On the inside lurks the darker shadows of mischief. << You haven't looked. Have a look! >> Because color, of course, is not enough for this particular green. And while she's on the subject, <<Besides. I'll never know if you're a /true/ gentleman 'til I see your bits. >> And lastly, << You're seeing parts. See? Wings, tail, arms, legs, head...you're seeing lots of parts, as am I. What's different about /those/ parts?>>

Wyn pities Tatia. Greatly. And makes mental notes to take a sudden trip to Southern if she ever spots Vespurath glowing. "So can Vor," she allows, still clinging to hope. Yeah, like hope that Lylia or another of the WLM types may yet swoop in and save the day. Begone, corrupt green! Her fingers have been fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, a needless motion most unlike Wyn. Flights she can handle. But this is /not/ in the manual.

Vorkoroth quickly changes his gaze to staring pointedly at some ledge halfway up the weyr wall. And moves farther away. He's going to land in the water if this keeps up.

And well she should. Tatia looks completely forlorn now, and her expression is one of intense desperation. "Can't you just have him.. go hide in the barracks or something?" she questions. Last resort! Time to just run and /hide/. "I don't think she's going to give up.." Manual? This is Vespurath. She doesn't /have/ a manual.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he sticks to his guns. <<No.>> he intones firmly. <<I do not /want/ to have a look. Those particular parts are designed for /flights/. And this is not a flight. So I am quite happy to have those particular parts remain unseen by me. Go get... Ringwraith to show you his flight-parts.>> he offers as a last ditch alternative. <<I'm sure his are much bigger.>> Wow. Apparently Vorkoroth is completely confident in his masculinity. And says as much. <<I am a male, I assure you. And a true gentleman is known by his word and deed. Not by his flight-parts.>>

Wyn transfers her fidgeting to pulling her riding gloves on. "I... think that might work." she nods. "Or take off for one of the empty weyrs and hide there... She'll /expect/ the barracks." A shudder. "I think Vor could stand up, but I'm starting to doubt if /I/ can. Faranth's golden tailfork." she mutters.

Tatia stands swiftly, hand clenched at her side. "Vespurath. This is ridiculous. Leave him alone. Leave Shirasuth alone. Leave /K'nex/ alone." She scowls at her lifemate, then sends a helpless glance at Wyn. "I'm sorry... I can't.. she doens't /listen/ to me." And then she's talking to her lifemate again. "I'm /leaving/. That's /enough/!" And then she's stalking off. To somewhere.

Wyn has crammed her helmet on her head with something distinctly less than her usual attention to detail, and is rapidly trotting over to the Vorkoroth who's attempting to flee. "Let's get /out/ of here..." she mutters to her lifemate, quickly checking straps before giving a quick nod to Tatia. "It's all right... at least she waited 'til he was old enough to sort of understand...?"

But Tat's already gone. To hide in some small, small hole until Vespurath has forgotten about this day.

With the courtly offer of a foreleg, you alight upon Vorkoroth's neck. Good to go.

Vespurath wouldn't take /advantage/ of the lad, of course, but she does look rather miffed at the pair's apparent desire to leave. Her face sort of falls -- if that's possible -- and her tail stops swishing happily back and forth. *sniffle* Meanies. She's going to go /pout/ now...