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Date Posted: 10:29:19 12/20/01 Thu
Author: T'yin
Subject: *After a long while passes, the rider raises his head once more.*
In reply to: Viouth and T'yin 's message, "A sated, exhausted green soars in, wing muscles sore from over-use." on 22:15:02 12/15/01 Sat

*His green still contentedly sleeping, T'yin watches a small bronze dragonet and boy wander into the Barracks. By Faranth... there was a Hatching! Frozen blue eyes flicker to his beloved lifemate, and he praises the day he met her on the Sands. He hesitates, then stands shakily. He will take care of his needs, then catch the end of the Hatching. First, is better clothes and straps. Both had deteriorated badly during the stay in the southern continent. The young rider brushes sand-coloured hair from his face and moves towards the storage area for riding straps. He'd better get these now, before a bunch of little dragonets could claim them. With a surprising laugh, he pulls out a set of Viouth's size and trots up the stairs to his personal weyr, laying them out. He'll check them later, but first, a bath is in order. Watching blankly as the tub fills up, he digs around for some of his clothes, finding a good set, though most are too small, left over from his weyrling days. Impressing at fourteen Turns! Young, very young. The greenrider stops the inflow of water, strips, and sinks into the warm, soothing liquid, soaking before grabbing a handful of soapsand and scubbing himself cleaner than he's been for months. He climbs out, drying and dressing, before brushing a mint stick across his still-very-white teeth, and combing his unruly hair back into the semblence of neatness. Finished, his gurgling stomach reminds him of his last need, and he trots to the Table to take care of that.*

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