The Motliest Crew

Writers: Aaron, Avery, Devin, Duskdog, Halyonix, Heather, Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 1st November 2025

Characters: M'sar, N'dhavi, Rathandra, M'thos, H'lem, Hesbia, Yvase, R'kiva
Description: Galgaith's weyrlings size each other up as they feed their dragons for the first time.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 14 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Akadja

N'dhavi

Rathandra

M'thos

Hesbia

}:More now!:{

For a few moments, M’sar didn’t pay attention to anything but Nazoth and putting bloody chunk after bloody chunk of meat into his maw. **Don’t worry, your tummy will stop being so empty soon. Remember to chew.**

As the worst of the hunger faded, M’sar glanced over at the nearby weyrlings and saw Kavalas with a green. Oh, shards, he’d forgotten about that. M’sar snorted a laugh.

“What’s got _you_ snickering?” N’dhavi asked, finally taking the time to glance around him at the other Impressees now that he and Malzyveth were settled in with a bucket of meat of their own. He’d seen most of the Impress before him, of course, but hadn’t paid much mind -- because, frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about _them_, and he didn’t care about their dragons -- so long as he got his own. And he _had_ gotten his own: exactly as he’d set out to get it.

Only now, as he appraised his fellow weyrlings, did it occur to him that Akadja was still not among them.

And yet, somehow, M’sar _was_.

}:I fail to see how that matters,:{ Malzyveth said, waiting patiently for another chunk of meat, though the ache in his belly -- an ache that N’dhavi felt keenly, too -- betrayed him. }:Focus.:{

Rathandra followed Morivath uncertainly down into the feeding room. The dragonet seemed not in the least bit shy as she shouldered up against one of her blue clutchmates and opened her mouth expectantly.

At the urging of a Weyrlingstaff member, she picked up one of the bloody chunks of meat and dropped it into Morivath’s gaping maw.

}:Mmmm, very good,:{ Morivath said with a sigh of relief. As she ate, Rathandra glanced around at the others, finding many familiar Holdless faces in the room.

“Kavalas with a green,” M’sar said as he turned toward N’dhavi. His eyebrow went up. “Well, huh. There was a bronze afterall.” He had some mixed feelings about that. N’dhavi was probably going to be smug about getting what he wanted, ugh, but at least it was a fellow holdless and . . . M’sar snorted another laugh. “Bet Sybana is gonna have a wherry about you getting a bronze.”

R'kiva smiled at Rathandra when he came back around, nodding at her measured approach. “Excellent. Just like that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rathandra breathed automatically. She kept glancing around at the others, especially the ones who had actually been Searched and gone through a few Candidate classes. She hadn’t been Searched, nor had she had any classes about what to expect as a new dragonrider. The only boon was her former harper-training.

Pleased that the young woman appeared calm and accepting of her new bond, despite her green's unexpected appearance, he eyed the other pairs. Over half the clutch had found riders amongst the holdless. He didn't see that coming. But its smaller size was a blessing for someone still memorizing candidate names and faces. The conversations and dragonets names rang clearly as he calmly paced, looking for injury or need of assistance.

“I'm sure Goldrider Sybana sends her congratulations to all of her queen's newest pairs. He's lovely, by the way.” R'kiva said from a respectful distance, admiring the warm golden hide wrapping around Nazoth.

“Congratulations. You've done well.” He said with another smile, though privately a little surprised there had even been two browns in the clutch.

N’dhavi was doing well with the bronze, but having caught the comment about a green classmate, he added to M’sar, “But-- perhaps it would be best for your classmates-- of any color-- if you were to keep your sentiments to that. Otherwise -- focus on yours. He’s handsome enough to keep your eye, I think.”

“Didn’t expect _him_ to get a green is all,” M’sar said as he fed more meat to Nazoth. “And I wanted her so bad, but this big boy picked me instead.” His expression was soft and adoring as he watched his dragon eat.

}:You are _mine_,:{ Nazoth insisted. }:Why do you keep thinking of greens?:{

**Because I wanted one before. Don’t be jealous. You have me now.** M’sar paused in his feeding to rub a blood-covered hand under Nazoth’s jaw.

"We have a trend of Dragonsfall boys wanting greens." M'thos said mildly as he made his own way around. Fifteen after a clutch of almost-forty wasn't _great_ for poor Sybana, but it was a break for him, "One of the bronzeriders in Chioneth's clutch was the same way. Careful with Nazoth, young man. He'll want to eat more than he should. Make sure he doesn't get sick."

N’dhavi made a semi-distracted (as Malzyveth was insistently tugging at his focus somehow) little scoff of dismissal. Who in their right mind would want a _green_, when they could have more? It was fine enough to get one, he supposed, since not everyone could have power and status, but anyone with any sense whatsoever would surely _want_ it, at least, wouldn’t they?

“I’m _sure_ Goldrider Sybana is absolutely _thrilled_ to her core,” he said instead in response to R’kiva, focusing on the part of the conversation he cared most about, anyway. “I’m sure she’ll be along any minute to see for herself how handsome Malzyveth is. I expect flowers and a bottle of wine.”

“She thought I didn’t deserve a dragon. Well I showed her.” M’sar went back to feeding Nazoth, mostly ignoring M’thos. He was going to let Nazoth eat as much as he wanted. He didn’t ever want his brown to feel the aching, gnawing need of not having enough food.

“They didn’t think _any_ of us deserved a dragon,” Hesbia said from nearby but her usually acerbic tone was softened. Her sister was crouched nearby, probably trying to be of use, but Hesbia was too entranced by Oriveth to really notice. “And yet…”

}: Here we are, :{ Oriveth finished for her, spreading his dark wings slightly.

“Proving them wrong,” Hesbia added with a proud grin.

M’sar grinned at her and realized that the blue looked very familiar. He blinked. “Wait, _you_ got that blue? Oh shards.” He laughed. “Me on a brown and you on a blue, ain’t that somethin’?”

“He’s beautiful,” Rathandra said to Hesbia.

“Thanks,” Hesbia answered with none of her usual guarded tone. That happy grin on her face spread and then she realized the speaker. “Rathandra, you…you got a dragon too?” What the--! How many of the Holdless had Impressed??

“So it would seem,” the other woman returned with a mirthless laugh. “She came to the Stands where I was sitting.”

“Seems…unique,” Hesbia remarked. “I didn’t think they picked people from the Stands.”

Yvase had been quiet while feeding Teriath the entire first bucket, as the green just wanted to suck down as much meat as she could. Yvase knew how to handle wet bleeding meat and feed it to dragons, her father had taught her that… and she knew all the ‘do not let them choke’ ones in theory…but actually enforcing her will had been a little harder in practive. By bucket two, however, she could split her time between feeding and chattering.

Not that Teriath loved that. The green dragonet who belonged to her was shifting from foot to foot impatiently as she waited for more food. dancing back and forth like Candidates did on the hot Sands.

“Sometimes they do,” Yvase chirped up as she chucked another piece of meat into Teriath’s waiting jaws. “It’s not every Hatching it happens. If their person is up in the Stands, they go get them. Better than if they can’t find a mind in the Candidates or in the Stands…then the dragonet dies. Much worse.”

**Is that all you can say?** H’lem prodded the tiny brown as he followed beside him among the others. It felt as though H’lem would step on him at any moment, but somehow, they always seemed to know where the other was going. Nevertheless, despite how much he already knew this dragon, he felt… out of place.

}:H’lem.:{

That was all Mactallath had said to him so far. He had not even said his _own_ name. H’lem had simply and suddenly known what it was. He craved more. He was not sure what that could be, but he craved it nevertheless. He quietly fed the little thing, keenly aware of his hunger but oblivious to most of the other goings on around him.

No matter how he had insisted that his name ought to be L’mhas or L’mhask, Mactallath simply repeated, }:H’lem.:{

"How's he doing?" M'thos asked as he crouched down to look at the brown. "What a solid boy. What's his name?"

Rathandra glanced sideways at M’thos. She had seen him around the Weyr. A handsome man with an equally beautiful green dragon. She hadn’t realized he would be one of the Weyrling helpers. The boy beside her seemed younger, but his brown dragon was handsome.

}:His name is Mactallath,:{ Morivath supplied without warning, her sudden mental intrusion startling her new lifemate. That didn’t help her with the boy’s name, though. He wasn’t a Holdless.

“Hm? Oh. Hi, Dad.” Lem had almost forgotten that his father would be one of his teachers. “This is Mactallath.”

"Mactallath. What a good name." M'thos said. "You've got the hang of it, Lem. Good on you." He patted the boy's back a little too hard, beaming. "I'm sure I could hear your father shouting from across the Stands. Make sure he doesn't squish you at the feast. And who are you, young lady?" He asked, turning to Rathandra and her green. He didn't recognize this woman, aside from placing her amongst the holdless that remained in the Weyr.

}: That's Morivath.:{ Fianwyth supplied helpfully from where she sat near Sazikoth.

Rathandra felt a little blush ride onto her cheeks as the impossibly gorgeous man turned his eyes on her. **You’re a married woman, Rathandra,** her mind reminded her in a scold. But her cheeks didn’t care.

“Rathandra, sir. I don’t think we’ve met before. I wasn’t a Candidate,” she said, managing to string all of the correct words together in the proper order.

"It's nice to meet you, Rathandra." M'thos said warmly, "That's right, you were up in the Stands, weren't you? I'm M'thos, the Weyrlingmaster Second. The Weyrlingmaster, T'lonas, is that man over there. You come to either one of us if you have any questions about Morivath here. Have you been staying with family? Do you share quarters with anyone?"

She was slightly mesmerized by the man’s lips as he talked. They were perfect. She had never realized that lips could be perfect. He was by far the best looking dragonrider she had seen since arriving at Dragonsfall.

“I’m here with my husband, Evanram. We’re Holdless. We were actually…” a mirthless laugh escaped, “actually, ah, planning on leaving today after the Hatching.”

"Dragons do have a way with meddling in best-laid plans." M'thos said. "We usually have our young assistants moving trunks from the candidate barracks into the weyrling alcoves. I'll send A'ten to help Evanram with your things. You'll have a lot to talk about without worrying about that."

“I only have a single bag,” she found herself blurting. Her cheeks reddened. “So it shouldn’t be difficult.”

"I'm sure it won't be, but one less thing off your plate." M'thos said. "Now, you may be getting this sense from Morivath, but I need to tell you because you didn't get the same training as the others-- you and your husband need to be mindful of physical touch and your feelings towards each other, at least in the first few months. Morivath is just a baby and she isn't going to understand big, complicated feelings. You'll feel from her if she's uncomfortable, but you need to be mindful that she doesn't get stressed or overwhelmed. Does that make sense?"

Rathandra nodded, but her cheeks reddened even further. “Yes, sir. I understand.” Evanram. How was she going to explain all of this to him?

Last updated on the November 28th 2025

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