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Date Posted: 18:03:23 12/22/01 Sat
Author: Wessae~Shrineth~Doe
Subject: ~^~

The talons of the dragon are heard as they re-enter the barracks, the green flit cheeping softly in wonder. The bed that Shrineth had so artfully mussed still stood out and Wessae heads to it, setting Doe gently on the pillow. Smiling, she seeks out a bucket of oil, mindful of her dragon's passing mention of it. Weilding a soft rag, she rubs the hide meticulously, careful to pay attention to areas already stretching with growth. The green hatchling watches the process in amazement, her eyes a curious orange color. She sends jarbled images of herself getting an oiling, and the girl chuckles her compliance. Soon, the flit infant sports a hide nearly as shiny as the gold's. She stretches her tiny pinions and chirps her excitement.

"Now, it's my turn you two! Wait here, I'll be back in a few moments." Before heading for the shower, she picks out something for herself to wear. She wasn't one for dresses usually, but the hatching feast warranted an exception, as long as the thing wasn't too overdone.Frowning at the selection in the wardrobe, her fingers brush every available dress. Selecting a simple dress of a rich hazel color, she smiles to herself. The fabric was velvety, and it seemed to be an ankle length affair, nothing too trailing. Satisfied,she rushes quickly to the showering area. Shedding her soiled clothing she steps gratefully into the tap, allowing the warm water to wash all the grime and sand from her. Drying, she reaches hastily for the dress, hoping against hope that it will fit. It clings to her slender frame, the collar scooping slightly,the sleeves trailing a bit and the hem brushing her ankles. Sighing in relief, she heads back to her companions, a happy grin on her face.

Nice, and we don't want to be late! Shrineth reminds her, extending her neck and giving a half whistle of appreciation. Her eyes darken with a deep plum color, and she admires her own hide. I never need to dress up. The young woman rewards her with a purr like sound and a happy grin as Doe leaps to her customary perch at the girl's shoulder. Grinning, Wessae runs her fingers through her drying hair.

"My hair! I'll have to...oh scorch it!" Scrambling for a brush, she struggles with her fall of curls, twining them into a braid and then a loose bun that swings at the nape of her neck. "Least if it falls out it'll be braided and clean." Allowing some tendrils to leak out and frame her face, she takes one obligatory look in the mirror, twirling lightheartedly. "C'mon, you two, to the feast!" She leads the way to the Weyr, Shrineth marching regally beside her.

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