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Another rest day, another round of purposefully getting his rider dirty to get her used to it. She was certainly never going to like it, but they could build up her tolerance to where it wasn't such a big deal, nothing to get so upset over if and when it inevitably happened. As a rider, it would be unavoidable, just a fact of life, and it wouldn't do for her to be shrieking or having a fit about it. That wasn't very heroic, which he kept reminding her. It seemed to help.

That was their morning gone, so when Elzebuth nosed into the girls' section of the barracks, Menankith was stretched out, thoroughly scrubbed and freshly oiled, with a pale blue flit clinging to his headknobs. The brown bugled at his darker brother, and his hanger-on did its best to imitate the sound. Hello, Elzebuth and Elzebuth's!
Do you need something? Mine is getting clean, she will be back soon.

NadryMine, Elzebuth and His have come to visit, he notified his bonded, quite sure that she would like to know that they had company. If he didn't forewarn her and let her know to be presentable, she'd be terribly embarrassed, as well as a bit cross with him. Are you nearly finished?

Elzebuth and His? Oh. Oh, dear. Y-yes, almost done! Just a few minutes! Nadry set to scrambling to make good on that estimate.

They are fools, Menankith agreed vehemently, lacings of anger threading through him - but not a surge, not the same rush of fury he would have had if he had been present to hear such things himself. He and His knew that awful things were said, though very rarely in their presence...but it was easy enough to know, to expect it. It would have been more surprising if people didn't talk about them, non-traditional as they were in a place as rigidly ordered as High Reaches. Still, even though they had yet to be insulted to their faces, he knew that sometimes the looks got to his, the sudden lowering of voices when they walked into a room. But we will show them soon enough.

It will be just a few minutes, he assured G'ran, oblivious to the young man's discomfort, She was nearly finished anyway. Just as fearlessly as the brown-who-was-not-his had approached, the flit reached out with the intent to latch onto the new headknobs that had now presented themselves, sing-songing another attempt at the fascinating noise the dragons had made.

We are well. And you have been as well, I trust? The smaller brown paid little mind to the flit's antics regardless of the fact that they were taking place on his head. Nadry's pet was getting marginally better-behaved as it matured, though it had entered a rather grabby stage. We do? That is good, very good! I promised myNadry that we would soar, a very long time ago. Or at least, it seemed like a very long time ago, waiting for her inside his shell.

A firelizard, Menankith supplied as the creature transferred over to a new perch with an inquisitive chirp, followed by a mimic of the crooning. Mine says they are good for messages, but so far he has mostly been good for getting himself into trouble.

Lucky for them both, Nadry never went to bathe without taking all her necessary things with her, not one to parade about the barracks anything less than fully-clothed, even with the division between male and female Weyrlings. The other girls were so pretty, and she was...not. Not that it mattered, or should have. Some days it didn't bother her, others...it did. A little. Maybe. Today? Also maybe. She'd spent a good portion of her morning splotted with mud, and now she had a visitor, and there was no hope of getting her hair dry enough to do anything with-

It's just Elzebuth's, Mine, Menankith reminded her, picking up on the flurry. His seemed to have developed a tendency towards such concerns lately, which he found quite curious.

Yes. Just Elzebuth's. Augh. At least it wasn't as bad as the other day, with C'lusi, with the mud in her hair that may have been cause for a shriek that he may have heard and...and that had been downright mortifying. Having reminded herself that it could be worse, Nadry ventured out to see her friend with an uncertain attempt at a smile. "Good morning, G'ran. Or...afternoon? I suppose it's lunchtime by now, isn't it?" A look at the dragons and her smile steadied. The sight of Menankith's darker brother with a flit on his head was priceless. "Hello to you too, Elzebuth. I see you've met Sir Moustache."

Yes. We will be heroes, all of us. They would save the world, and save the Weyr from itself. The latter, he suspected, would be the more difficult task.

Perhaps Yours should get one, Menankith suggested.  Elzebuth's fascination with the flit was easy enough to pick up on, largely due to the fact that his clutchmate was allowing it to climb on his head without protest.  Although, how did one come by a firelizard without being sent one, as Nadry had been?  He inquired and, receiving the answer, went on, Mine's was a gift, but she says people sell them, or find clutches in the wild? A strange thought, a clutch of tiny not-dragons out in the wilderness, waiting to be found. They Impress to the first person who feeds them.

Sir picked his way across his new perch, pausing only to chirp a greeting up at the new person.  Large person!  Hello, large person!  Now, about this new dragon... The flit murmurred busily to himself as he conducted his tiny explorations.

For her part, Nadry was having a difficult time looking at G'ran, and an even harder time not giggling.  She'd gone from quietly fretting to completely sidetracked by the sight of the massive, dark brown weyrling dragon with a flit crawling on him.  Shards, but their dragons had been getting big, and the size difference between the two browns was becoming more and more noticable.  Granted, either one was about large enough to be ridden around like a runner, but still.  But G'ran was talking, and she tore her eyes away to be properly polite and look at him as he did so. "Yes, quite alright," she answered with an affirmative dip of her head, missing any motivation beyond casual friendliness for the question. "You two as well?"

I have been wondering if Mine should get another, that perhaps it would help if he had company, and he would do fewer troublesome things...but then again, the new one might also be troublesome and it would be worse. Such a conundrum! His had similar concerns about the possibilities. If you and Yours get one, it should be friends with ours. Do you think Aurinkoth and His would like one? Sir Moustache, oblivious to speculations about whether he needed friends, worked his way down Elzebuth's neck and to his back, nimble digits grasping ridges along the way as he chittered to no one in particular.

"I knew they varied, but I never realized just how much. I mean, before when I saw dragons, I just saw...dragons. They all looked huge, you know? It's different when they're yours, I guess." Nadry tilted her head to regard the pair. She definitely noticed it more now than she had when they'd been freshly hatched, but she hadn't exactly noticed much other than Menankith himself for awhile. He wasn't as big as Elzebuth or Kratoth, but he was perfect no matter what, just the way he was. "I used to think my brother's dragon had to be the biggest, well, anything, but he's just normal for a brown."

Indeed. Elzebuth wanted a firelizard - good! Perhaps their problem of Sir Moustache needing a friend of his own species wouod be solved. The blue, having reached the end of the dark Weyrling's back, determined it was a suitably broad space on which to curl up. We will have to make sure to get him a larger one, Menankith determined, as though that were possible to engineer. Perhaps a brown. A bronze or gold would probably be bigger, but...no, large brown would suit very nicely.

Nadry made a wordless sound of agreement with G'ran's comment about the variety of dragon hides. Menankith was a rich, bright brown with hints that were almost orange, Elzebuth as dark as he was big, and Dobrokhoth almost gray. And the variety of greens and blues seemed infinite.

"We see them sometimes, from a distance, and Dobrokoth did say hello to Menankith once, but..." The young woman sighed and shook her head. "M'yk would rather ignore what he doesn't like than deal with it, so he'll just keep on pretending we don't exist for as long as possible." He'd proven that he could learn, as evidenced by the number of Holder views he'd shed during his time at the Weyr (granted, he'd subsequently replaced some of them with traditionalist Weyr garbage), but it took time. And whether or not this would change...well, who knew? But Dobrokhoth, at least, didn't seem to disapprove, so perhaps there was a chance that her brother would come around.