Welcome to Vulnera!

[Neza]

Kismet held onto Kime's hand firmly, despite the fact that doing so made the bundle of clothes she was carrying awkward. The bundle was placed against a hip, but with her growing stomach making her gait unfamiliar to her, she had to stop regularly and have her son pick up articles of clothing she had dropped to place back in the pile.

"Mama?" The boy asked what to him could easily have been the hundredth time he'd stopped to do this, but was really probably only his fourth or fifth time. His hands were lovingly gloved, and he was bundled up as any child his age needed to be, so it was hard to bend over and pick up the articles of clothing that seemed to be more inclined to stick to the snow than to his glove. He paused in his question, his tongue shoving itself out of his lips in concentration as he worked to pick up the shirt, one of his he realized, and then stood on tip toe to place the shirt on top of the pile of clothes. He seemed to forget he had been about to ask something in the process of it all though, and Kiz squeezed his hand in a light reminder.

"What is it Kime?" She asked, walking with him again towards the opening in the caverns the two were heading too. It was laundry day, and she had drawn the short straw for who would do the laundry for the creche. This was just one load, more would come later.

The boy looked briefly confused, and then his eyes brightened in remembrance and he tugged on his mother's arm again, which caused the shirt to fall off of the pile yet again. Kime didn't notice. "Mama, when I gwo up, I wanna impwess a dwagon." He stated, which really wasn't a question at all, but it also wasn't at all what he had been originally intending to ask. He'd just seen a dragon nearby and had become distracted.

Kismet's expression was bland, and she kept it this way as she watched her son struggling to pick up the snow-stiff shirt again after she'd motioned to it with their joined hands. "I'm sure if that's what you want to do, you'd be more than welcome to try Kime." She said, too ingraned with the lectures of how Impression was a horrible experience and would cause the rider only pain to believe that her son could be happy in doing it.

"Like him!" Kime added, stopping in his work to point at the dragon and rider that had been the cause of his sudden statement.

[Akkibby]

“I’m twenty three Turns, for Faranths sake!” Z’ayr spat out vehemently as he and his dragon walked across the Weyr bowl. What Dinayth had been doing that morning was a complete and utter insult to the lad, he could barely believe it. It was as if the dragon purposefully went out of his way to make his riders life absolutely miserable.

“I’m old enough to dress myself, you overgrown firelizard!”

Not only was he old enough to dress himself but he certainly liked to think that he had a better fashion sense than stupid ol’ Dinayth. He was just a blue! What did blues know! Maybe Z’ayr would take fashion advice from a bronze or a gold, but a blue? Ha! Hardly!

You’re an overgrown brat. I was giving you constructive criticism. Everyone knows that I am the most fashionable dragon at Vulnera so you should at least respect my advice. The charcoal vest over your shirt would have brought the entire outfit together and instead you completely mucked it up. Dinayth snorted with a dismissive flick of his tail. He still wondered why he kept Z’ayr around; the boy was a very troublesome pet. The blue shifted away from his rider, lumbering slowly towards another pair in the Weyrbowl. Laundry day? Ohhh, yes please. Not only did it please Dinayth’s need for cleanliness but it gave him a chance to snoop at what others were wearing.

Not that it mattered. All though he would never admit it out loud, he was rather fond of Z’ayrs’s clothing collection and didn’t care too much about others people’s wardrobes. Not that he wouldn’t snippily point out what they were wearing was atrocious, of course.

“There was no constructive criticism! You took the shirt I was going to wear and ripped it into shreds because you didn’t like it!” Z’ayr huffed, speeding up slightly so he could keep up with his dragon. Dinayth never hid what he did and didn’t like, oh no, he liked to make his opinion well known. And now there were bits and pieces of amber-colored fabric littering their weyr because of his tantrum.

It would have washed you out. You should be thanking me. Dinayth turned to look at his rider and snapped his jaws with a metallic clicking noise – a signal that their conversation was over. The blue dragon shifted and closed the distance between them and Kismet before pausing right in front of them. He guided his large head towards the ground and gently snapped up the shirt off the ground, dangling it right in front of Kime. Clothes do not belong on the ground. Are you trying to make me mad, little one? Clothes belong on bodies.

“Clothes also don’t belong in between your teeth.” Z’ayr chided, grabbing the shirt from his blue and offering it to Kismet. “Sorry, love. He’s full grown and barely trained. Useless lump of meat, really.” He eyed the girl in front of him. She certainly could not have been older than him and yet here she was with a little boy and another one on the way. Thank Faranth that Z’ayr was as gay as gay could be – he would rather not end up fathering a child. No offense to them but really, they were sticky and got everywhere. Dinayth would have a meltdown, as would he.

Mother or not, Z’ayr could never resist a chance to flirt with someone – even if they were of the wrong gender. “I’m Z’ayr,” He began, his smile growing crookedly as his eyes twinkled with delight, “The aforementioned lump is Dinayth. You are?”

[Neza]

Kismet had nodded with a noncommittal "that's nice dear" towards Kime before nudging the shirt with her toe again, closer to the boy to try to get him to take notice. The boy however, was not paying attention, and instead stared as the blue got closer. His mother noticed as well and she took a startled step back as the dragon dropped it's head and then picked the shirt up himself.

"I-I'm sowwy." The boy stammered, his eyes wide and his mouth not fully closing as he heard the dragon speak to him. He'd never been addressed by a dragon before. "These cwothes are dirty though. Mama says we hafta wash them." He added, as if this was defense for why the clothes were not on the bodies. And then he looked up at the rider, who came over to chide the blue and his eyes lit up again. "Are you his wider?"

Kismet, still a bit startled by the approach of the blue, freed her hand from Kime's to take the shirt being offered to her and smiled a bit shakily in appreciation, which eased with the rider's good humor and easy nature. "Kismet." She replied, reaching down to take her son's hand once more, catching it as the mitted hand was reaching out to touch the dragon's nose. "And this is my son Kime." She introduced, looking down at her son and giving the boy's hand a squeeze to remind him of his manners.

"Nice to meet you." He chimed obediently, though he was watching the man with a mischievous look in his eyes. "He doesn't look like a lump of meat." He added.