Yeah, that's right...Wing Practice!

The single hint had been all Z’ia needed, in order to sniff out what was going on, when it was going on, where it was going on and, of course, what he would need to do in order to make the best possible impression. Of course, making the ‘best possible impression’ tended to vary depending on the situation and who it was Z’ia was attempting to impress.

Z’ia was pleased with the image he had managed to paint of himself to the Weyr at large. He was generally viewed as a good-natured kid, occasionally tangled up in the wrong crowds or getting into mischief, but hardly a terrible person or a troublemaker. The black accusations A’liran occasionally spat out about him seemed to mostly go ignored – after all, A’liran was a known trouble maker! – and while Z’ia did pick up on some confusion amongst the population about his occasional appearances with S’kef or J’ver, most people chalked it up the a result of the occasional flights in which Aveleth won Rilaleeyth (though no one seemed to understand that, either). So, all in all, Z’ia was rather pleased.

The question then became – how was he to react to the wing training session? He had managed to scrounge around and dig up the most dedicated of details, right down to the timing, and while that was all very well and good, Z’ia was far more impressed by the skills he’d used to receive those results. They would prove useful, later, and he had every intention to exploit the newly acknowledged talents in gathering information for S’kef – namely about his wingmates, and the leaders. Unlike D’hys, Z’ia knew why C’vir had been elevated to the new rank, and he had every intention of keeping an eye on his classmate, whether S’kef asked him directly or not. The brownrider was capable of becoming a dangerous threat, if they lost their grip on him – or S’kef did, at any rate – and Z’ia rather enjoyed his skin being whole and healthy. C’vir would be watched, a task made easier by his lack of being in on Z’ia’s own entanglements with the Weyrleader.

You take too much pleasure in these games, Aveleth’s voice intruded on Z’ai’s thoughts, and the young man grinned impishly where he was seated in his hut, booted feet thrown up on the coffee table. He was decked out in perfectly maintained riding leathers, a cup of klah in hand as he petted Plague who was wrapped around his neck. Destiny was curled up in his lap, snoring lightly where she slept, while Chastity had vanished at the crack of dawn, undoubtedly to hover as close to D’hys as possible without him getting angry with her. That presently meant she was skulking on the far side of the hut Zeianth was perched on. Z’ia stood up slowly. “I enjoy games, Kiddo.”

I know. A short pause, then Berruth is calling to us, now. Shall we go? The dragon, who had been scrubbed from head to toe the day before, peered in the front door, nosing it open and tilting his head to stare at Z’ia with one eye. The sparkling colours of amusement and curiosity were bright within it. He is very excited.

“In a moment; we don’t want to be first, I don’t think.” Z’ia carefully picked up Destiny and placed her on the corner of the couch, the little firelizard cracking open one eye to peer at him  before snuggling down and going back to sleep. Plague stood up, stretching and spreading her wings before gliding over to land on Aveleth’s nose. She chittered quietly to the dragon, as she scrambled over his head and down his neck. Aveleth gave a giggling sounding breath, and Z’ia rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation. Giggling? Seriously! Aveleth ignored him as the young man went to fetch his riding straps, and returned with them.

“Alright, we’ve wasted enough time.” Perhaps five minutes had passed since Berruth’s call, and Z’ia slipped the leathers over Aveleth and buckled them all into place, pushing his dragon backwards so they were further from the hut before climbing up on to the young blue. Plague took off once more, swooping around them and chittering before leading off in the direction of the Gather Square. It was only a short flight, so they didn’t bother with a trip between, but glided in, rising up several dragon lengths to avoid collisions with those that had opted for a quick jump between and circling lazily as they watched some of the others arrive.

Let’s land, Kiddo. Over to the side, towards the centre of the Square. There was no point being locked in against the buildings. Aveleth obeyed, gliding in quietly, and landing timidly off to one side, being careful to keep a respective distance from the other dragons as he folded his wings neatly and settled down. Z’ia unbuckled himself, and slid down Aveleth’s side, standing placidly with one hand on his dragon’s neck as he waited to see what would happen next.