...at the mention of itching.. the brown scratches. Yes.. itchy. Very itchy. the broken stitches that are there are probably because of the browns scratching. They itch.. and they're annoying. Gnaedath laying nearby, on the other hand, recognizes the dragonhealer immediately, lifts his head to the full stretching of his neck to lean in to examine. Nosy or friendly, a royal snuffing in the general...

... L'ton responds to the news, has his clothing blown asunder from Ikaroth's takeoff. Features tighten at the fraternity grouping on the queen ledges. His stride, though, never breaks down. Ikaroth> Gnaedath watches not with patience but with the growing ire ancient as Hestiath's dusty shade, smoking in the shadows of the pens, churning tepid tail in slow circles, failing not in wisdom or favor for...

In the lake, Gnaedath lifts one giant wing, slamming it decisively into the water while the other flutters little wakes of tidal pleasure beneath his fingersails. Tail flat out and wavering left to right behind his upside-down, belly-in-the-air repose propels him further into the center of the lake, lackadaisical and free. Madri is here once again. Summer's heat or pregnancy or both having...

...left for the sanctuary of the inner caverns and she feels the urge to swim. Crystalline images flicker and float, churning images of the larger kin in a much more graceful dance. < > < < Gnaedath> Elsveth splashes into the lake. Rattler> Whiskey is aloof, circling above appearing not to care.   If there were a 'cool' competitor in this flight, the old man's bronze would be it...

...   Then, when we was done with our trainin, we helped here 'n there where we could."   Fanneth turns to examine the weyrlingmaster and her green, chuffing loudly at the pair.   W'ren and Gnaedath approach from along the bowl’s eastern curve. W'ren Unruly sable locks curl impatiently in a flop of tangled top, pulled back tightly in a pony tail of longish hair, crisp, military...

...she is naked, wrapped only in the coolness of a silken sheet.   It's not even light out and already it's unbearably hot, the very air is sticky and heavy, as if one is moving through soup. From Gnaedath's Dragonbed Hall, nary a sound carries into the expanse of the room, but the rider that passes there stops just short of entering, breathing deeply of the strength that he calls from deep within...

...marking an item or two off here or  there. Talia is curled up and snoozing atop the green's shoulder as the green  herself sits alert and attentive to the activities around them. In the lake, Gnaedath lifts one giant wing, slamming it decisively into the  water while the other flutters little wakes of tidal pleasure beneath his  fingersails. Tail flat out and wavering left to right behind his...

...of her. "So tell me G'dal, what experience do you have tending  to 'lings?" Never one to beat around the bush, Mads gets right to the point. W'ren approaches from along the bowl's eastern curve. Gnaedath approaches from along the bowl's eastern curve. Madri has just arrived, escorted by Elsveth and is in general discussion with  G'dal and Fanneth on this hot summer's eve. "Wal, ma'am.  Me and...

>> I bespoke Mrrth with: I sense that Gnaedath's mindtouch wanders in, slipping as a thief into the mind of the father of his rider, whispering as woodwinds through a soft string bass undertone. >>Mine asks if he can see your rider. < < A hint of concern colors the request, like an involuntary splash of sadness and pain. He hesitates, then adds, >>If it is safe. < < < < >> I...

...in the stomach, as hard as a rail thin girl can. It started with a punch, it can end with one too, before she turns on her heel and runs from the infirmary. W'ren swings down from his lifemate Gnaedath's neck. Again, he'll release her when she steps back, and again, he's taken by surprise and hit, full on. T'jano crumples, looks up with surprise across his features, and that odd rational...