Wherein there is absurdity and hilarity, due mostly to a problem of poultry.
Ista Weyr - Hatching Galleries
A tiered series of bleachers, their surfaces worn smooth from centuries' worth of use, with stairways on either side for access. There is a broad railing carved from stone to prevent onlookers from falling down. During a Hatching, thick and comfortable pillows in the Weyr's colors of black and orange are brought out to cushion the hard seating, and drudges come and go to bring refreshments to the spectators. A walkway at the top and back of the gallery continues through a tunnel to the west. A brilliant, vividly colored mural is painted across the walls.
Turnover might be in full swing, with the parties having spilled into campouts on the beaches and extra cake in the caverns, but Ista's hatching galleries are the one place on the island where the festivities have not managed to get a foothold. And not for lack of trying, either. Some inspired weyrfolk seem to have draped orange and black streamers over the entryways, but beyond that, it's downright grim in here. Well, not precisely, given the grumbling mound of paperwork somewhere in the higher tiers, and the lurking momma-gold down on the sands. But otherwise, most people seem to be avoiding the cranky dragon and her clutch. Except for Cenlia, who is apparently stuck for the duration, and looking less than thrilled about it. At some point, one poor drudge was recruited to deliver chilled juice and food to the weyrwoman, and it wasn't too long that said delivery boy came running to the corrals, with an urgent request.. for a chicken. To be delivered to Cen post haste.
Zajalon awkwardly clambers up the stairs to the Galleries, with three wire crates in tow. At one point the boy nearly drops one of them and a loud cluck issues from the container, but he dares not waste time to catch his breath for fear of the weyrwoman's wrath. At top, he allows himself a moment to comb his fingers through unruly hair in a poor attempt to tame it. In a reasonable immitation of self assurance, Zaj hauls the crates over to the weyrwoman and softly 'ahems' to make his presence known. Nevermind the sweat that is visible on his brow. "Excuse me, ma'am. I heard you had need of a chicken. Since the messenger wasn't clear on the sex or type, I brought a few options." He sets the three crates down in front of him in a row and eyes Cenia, hoping he made the right decision.
Cenlia, for the most part, is unaware of Zajalon's arrival, having nearly buried herself in paperwork and uttering a steady stream of under-the-breath grumbles which come out only half-coherently and are likely aimed at the massive gold down on the sands. And Zeek is pacing, restless and occasionally grumbly herself, low rumbles accompanying an odd sort of.. sand-nudging with her nose, in which the massive dragon tries to look like she /isn't/ actually turning any of the partly-buried eggs. Just coincidentally.. shoving sand around. Right. It's that telltale /cluck/ which has one huge blocky head abruptly jerking upward with a speed that might seem downright impossible for something of her bulk. A gigantic faceted eye zeroes in on Zajalon and his hair-combing, the gold approaching the galleries to STARE at both boy and crates with obvious interest. Cenlia, however, only looks up after being greeted, and not without a vaguely sheepish start which puts an end to her muttering. "Took ya long 'nough," she tells the weyrbrat, nose wrinkling at the cages, "Dunno if type's gonna matter, Zeek wanted to.. watch one or something."
Zajalon nods at Cenlia and doesn't envy her that giant stack of paperwork. Or being stuck inside on a beautiful Turnover for that matter. The boy offers a quiet "Sorry", the late timing and somewhat disheveled appearance might just be because the messenger who came to fetch him interrupted a wonderful slip-and-slide game, and Zaj had to change into presentable clothes and grab the chickens in a hurry. And then he jumps about a foot when he notices the giant eye. At the weyrwoman's words, he picks up the cages again and warily approaches Zeek, making sure to bow respectfully. The cages are arrayed again at the edge of the galleries for maximum viewing potetial of the gold. He steps back a few feet and waits, for what he's not sure.
Nziekilth STARES. There's a sort of single-minded focus on the cages, the fascination keeping the gold's head pinned right up against the railing. Which gives everyone nearby a chance to get a good whiff of her dragonbreath. Cenlia makes a bit of a face, eyeing weyrbrat and chickens, though poor Zaj jumping when he notices the eye does earn a twitch of a grin, "Dun't worry, she ain't et anybody yet." It's.. meant to be reassuring at least. Thankfully, Nziekilth doesn't breath directly /at/ him, head canted at an angle as she's too focused on the chickens. Cen, though, has to suppress a grimace. "Ugh, dun't need drudges cleanin' up chicken poop from all over the tiers- fine, FINE." More incoherent grumbling. Then, to Zajalon, she mutters, "..wants 'em out an' around," the weyrwoman eyerolls, hand waving vaguely at the cages, "The shards is this, a giant coop? Sharding dragons.." Nziekilth rumbles. Cenlia makes a face again and turns back to the weyrbrat, venturing dubiously, "Dun suppose them things got leashes, 'cause this ain't gonna end well if'n they.." And then she seems suddenly very, very thoughtful as she eyes him.
Zajalon bites his lower lip and scrunches his nose at the blast of dragonbreath, but manages not to gag in front of the weyrwoman and her bondmate, a rousing success in his opinion. Her words don't do much to bolster his courage against getting eaten, but the one sided conversation does a pretty good job of distracting him from the restless gold's closeness. The rising brow and cocked head show that he's having trouble figuring out what's going on, and that look the boy gets at the end of that conversation has him a bit worried. "Umm, well those streamers up for the celebration could maybe be used as leashes? I haven't trained any of them to walk on a leash though so…"
"Just dun't want any gettin' antsy an' takin' a leap off the gallery rail," Cenlia nods toward the not insignificant drop to the sands below, though chances are any falling poultry wouldn't survive to land down there, what with that dragonhead so close. "Shards, mebbe.. tie 'em to leg bands or somethin'?" the weyrwoman glances off toward the streamers consideringly, shoving aside paperwork in light of this apparently more interesting diversion. Then again, maybe /anything/ is more interesting than that. "Ya got beastcrafter duties or somesuch?" is asked almost absently of Zajalon, Cen getting slowly to her feet while still eyeing the streamers, "Mebbe oughtta hire somebody to just keep an eye on them things till Zeek gets bored. 'Course.. would hafta cage 'em again afterwards." And chickenwrangling terrified birds under the nose of a dragon probably would be some feat, really. Already Zeek's proximity is making feathers fly as one or more of the creatures begins to realize Nziekilth isn't just another part of the scenery.
Zajalon imagines the chickens dangling from their legs instead if they leap and the streamers are tied around their ankles - it might be even a worse fate than a quick death by falling. "Hmm. We'll have to tie them back far enough that they can't reach the ledge." With that statement it appears as if he's on board with the idea. "We do have bands that can be put around their legs. I gotta say though, it's going to be a mess in here…" At that moment one of the chickens lets out a huge squawk and relieves itself in the cage. "And noisy. Staking them down on the sands isn't an option, is it? It'll be easier to clean up and less noisy for you." He turns to the large gold warily to see how she reacts to that suggestion, not wanting to upset either of them. "I will have to go back to my duties before too long though for at least a few hours. I can come back afterword to er, collect the chickens." And probably take a shower right afterward, because Cen's right, it won't be an easy job.
Poor chickens. They're still being EYED by Nziekilth, but at least she's not moving much. Cenlia stands, stretching idly and making a face as something in her back makes odd popping noises. Someone has definitely been sitting down too long. There's nodded agreement with the tying the chickens back, Cen telling the weyrbrat, "Far 'nough so they ain't gonna be runnin' up Zeek's nose, neither," crooked grin appearing briefly. Though it's then turning into another half-grimace, "Ugh, chicken poop. Mebbe if we make them tethers short 'nough, they'll only mess up one corner. 'Least stone benches're easy to clean." Mr. Squawky, the pooptastic chicken is then /eyed/ by the weyrwoman. "Chickens'll prolly cook on the sands. Sharding dragon, ain't nothin' but trouble," she grumbles as she approaches the cages, than glances back toward the streamers, which look to be some sort of colored fabric or paper. "How strong're them things?" Cen asks, indicating the birds, "Ain't gonna be able to break free? Figure 'least there's 'nough space in the galleries that they ain't gonna bother nobody 'cept with the noise." Though she does make a face there, "Shards, bein' stuck here's bad 'nough. Now gotta be stuck with stinkin' /chickens/," more grumbling ensues as she heads for an entrance to try to grab hold of one of the hanging streamers. "C'mere an' gimmie a hand," is called over to the weyrbrat, "See if you can drag a bunch of 'em down."
Zajalon eyes the chickens, but has to giggle a little at the situation. Zeek may be problematic, but she sure does make things more interesting. "Depending on what the streamers are made of, it should work." He sure hopes so, anyway. Sizing up the distance between the floor and the streamers, the boy lugs one of the wire cages underneath them, and uses it as a step stool for a bit of added height. The occupant of the cage gives an indignant cluck but seems happy to be farther from the large dragon. Zaj runs his hand over the bottom of one of the streamers. "It's made of fabric, it should hold. Umm, I'm still not tall enough…" He gives an apologetic look to the weyrwoman and opens his mouth as if to speak, then shuts it again. What is the appropriate way to ask your weyrwoman if you might climb on her back to reach something? This was never covered during the standard lessons he got from the harpers and now seems like a serious lack on their part. He makes a bit of a jump on the cage to grab higher up on the streamer and tugs, but only succeeds in ripping it a little where he'd grabbed on. With a bit of throat clearing he squares his shoulders and asks in all seriousness. "Weyrwoman Cenlia. With, err, all due respect, might I suggest that you get on the cage, then I can get on your back and pull some down?" This could get real awkward real fast.
Cenlia might eye Zajalon briefly for that giggling, but it's not like her own grin isn't tugging crookedly on one side. Cen's doing her own futile jumping up in the air, though her reach is probably a little better than the weyrbrat's. She manages to even grab a handful of streamer ends, and then spends a second dangling above the floor looking a little like an awkward redfruit before her fingers slip. She manages to land on her feet, at least, but there's a glare at the stubborn decorations. "The shards they attach this stuff with? /Nails/?" her tone is incredulous, though she's then trying to snag just one, the movement of her hand in the air actually wafting the light fabric out of reach and earning a slight growl from the woman. Nziekilth is still watching the chickens in fascination, her head jerking marginally to focus on the one in the cage being used as a footstool. "Sharding.." Cen's expression is less than cheerful, and it doesn't improve at the request to give the kid a height boost. "Ya better not weight more'n ya look," is grumbled at Zaj, more for the sake of grumbling, though she awkwardly steps up to the cage and kneels so he can piggyback, "And dun't grab nuthin' that ain't fer grabbin'," is warned shortly. From the amused swirls of cerulean in Zeek's faceted eyes, it's probable that the dragon is finding all this hilarious.
Zajalon nods reverently and wouldn't dream of grabbing anything…inappropriate. Not on the weyrwoman anyway, how stupid can you get? But just because he has the best intentions doesn't make the ascension any smoother, the boy doesn't have much experience with this sort of thing. At first he grabs some hair and squeaks out a "Sorry!" until he finds better purchase. At least his slight frame means that the weight isn't so bad, although about half-way through the process the chicken decides that it just can't take anymore and starts pecking at the goldrider's boots. After some mumbling and adjusting and bony knees going places that aren't comfortable, Zaj at last gets a good hold higher up on the streamer, and with a triumphant whoop gives a mighty tug that hopefully doesn't topple their delicate operation over. The good news, the streamer does finally comes loose at the top.
This can't /possibly/ end well. Cenlia grunts at the hair-pulling, and lets out some less dignified noises as those knees go places, making quite the face as she straightens up, and attempts not to wobble too much, despite Zaj's slight frame. Thankfully, the girl is sturdier than she looks, or maybe just has really good balance, planting her feet squarely on opposite corners of the chicken cage and holding still as she can while the boy reaches for the streamers, half-squinting to try to see whether Zajalon can actually reach it. All this time, Zeek is watching them in what must be utter fascination, the chickens briefly forgotten. Which is a shame, as Cen receives an abrupt reminder when the bird in the cage goes all pecking-happy on her boots. While they're definitely sturdy and too thick to actually pierce with a beak, it does startle the weyrwoman, who totally squawks and for abruptly lifts her foot. And the weyrwoman/brat tower balances precariously one-legged for a second. Unfortunately, with the other foot on the cage corner, all their combined weight starts to tip the thing over. There's an, "Ack!" as Cen quickly puts the raised foot down, but too late - they're toppling. "Gah!" goes the weyrwoman. SQUAWK goes the chicken, and down goes the goldrider, streamer and all.
The chicken flaps around as it's cage lands on the side, sending a flurry of collected feathers out across the galleries in a whoosh of air. All this commotion has not done the other chickens good either, and there's quite a riot of noise going on. Zajalon suddenly finds nothing but air below him and latches onto the first thing he can get a grip on, which happens to be the top of Zeek's snout. "Sorry!" He squeaks again, this time to the dragon. "Please don't eat me". And then he pauses and raises up a finger. "You know, if Nziekilth can get her head in here, she can probably pull some more streamers down by herself." He looks very proud of himself for coming up with this new plan, and when he doesn't get an immediate response from the dragonrider he remembers that she fell over as well. With an apologetic look to Zeek he carefully turns himself around so he can view the damage. "Are you okay? Do I need to call a healer?"
Whee, arm-flailing happens! And a lot of squawking on both goldrider and chicken's part. Of the two of them, the bird is probably more indignant about this than the girl. Cen, luckily, doesn't hit her head on anything, but that's only because she totally lands on Zeek's nose. Finding oneself suddenly with a faceful of dragon nostril is really NOT the most pleasant thing in the world. /Really/. Especially as her hand comes away with ..gloop. "Auuugh," is her response to Zajalon's question, "Sharding- ugggh!" And she begins hastily trying to drag her hand over her knee as she scrambles upright, attempting to get the clingy stuff /off/. "Yeah, fine," the look on her face is totally priceless, though, "Ugh, y'alright? Sharding.. yea, she could prolly reach," that might be some sheepishness there on Cen's part, "Should just send fer some proper /string/." Nziekilth, upon getting snoutful and noseful of people, merely GRUNTS not unlike Cen was doing a few seconds ago. She does EYE them, however. Especially the weyrprat sitting on her face. "Shadddup," Cenlia mutters to her lifemate, "I dun care if ya saw that comin' from the other side of Rukbat," the goldrider GLARES. And tries not to gag as something.. drips out of Zeek's nose, all gooey-like. "Dun't ya DARE sneeze!" is added hastily to the dragon, who makes some very deep and ominous snorfling sounds.
Zajalon is trying /very/ hard not to laugh. It sounds like he could be fighting off a case of the hiccups as he attempts to pull himself together, a few snickers and snorts still managing to escape. "Yep, I'm…. golden, ah-hah!". Did he really just say that? Yes he did. It's that nervous relieved sort of joking around that people do when they narrowly avoid true disaster. He sobers up quickly when he discovers the EYE on him. "You know, string sounds like a great idea, why don't I get down from here and get some nice, safe, string." And then the snorfling starts, and he's clinging on for dear life again.
Admittedly, it /is/ pretty funny. And if she weren't currently trying to ward off incoming dragonsnot, the weyrwoman would, in all probability, be snickering too. Cenlia has, for a split second, the horrified look of someone who KNOWS they're about to experience something /really/ unpleasant, and even the half-attempt to duck is pretty useless as the gold takes an abrupt and all too-sudden inhale, nostrils flaring as the ominous snorfling turns into an uncontrolled 'SNORRRKKT'. And then she SNEEZES. Her massive, blocky head jerks back with force, sending poor cage and chicken tumbling to the other side of the galleries, and Cenlia, well. She keeps her /feet/, though the arm raised in front of her is totally useless in fending off the globs to stuff that come flying. There is a terrific echoing boom as the dragon's sneeze reverberates around the hatching cavern, and then there is silence. And Cenlia stands where with a look on her face that could probably curdle /beer/. And drips.
For one moment, all is perfectly quiet as the chickens are stunned into silence by the sneeze. Zajalon's face is frozen in something akin to horror as he views the spectacle that is his weyrwoman. This silence must be filled with something, anything, to break the hold it has on him. He runs his hand absently through his still mussed hair. "You know, you'd probably win the slip-and-slide competition like that." The moment the words leave his lips he wishes he could call them back but it's too late. Again, proper protocol is falling short of the mark here, but the boy thinks that offering to help clean the young woman up would probably be taken poorly. "I should probably go and let you…ermmm, yeah. Should I leave the chickens and pick them up later?" He squirms around uncomfortably. This has been such an awkward day.
Cenlia just /squints/ at him. And drips. But mostly squints. Squinty dripping. Which doesn't improve her expression any /at all/. One hand is slowly and deliberately raised to drag down her face, flicking off a good-sized.. chunk of gloop. There's no response to the attempt at breaking the monumental silence, which is probably for the best, really. Zeek grunts again. Cenlia eyes her, then mutters to Zajalon, "..Mebbe go find some string an' tie 'em someplace she can watch," said with each word enunciated oddly, as if that green tinge to her face weren't indication enough she's likely to lose her lunch any minute. "Am gonna go now," that last is stated more abruptly, as the goldrider suddenly turns and heads out of the galleries, with all the scrap of dignity she can muster. And her footsteps make an odd squelchy sound as she accidentally steps in flung gloop. The weyrwoman twitches. And keeps going. Nziekilth, at least, only whuffs in what miight be amusement, but otherwise doesn't make any more strange noises.
