Ah, bliss. Even the word sounded watery, in a way, an omen of what C’ren considered to be peaceful contemplation. It was just a soft and squishy word. No one who had ever been caught in a tidal wave would dare call water ‘squishy’, but C’ren had been very lucky to avoid such a fate. All he knew was this: Ceylith really needed a bath.

“I told you to leave the shipfish alone, didn’t I?”

::Yes, Mine.

“And I told you that the salt in the water would bother your hide?”

:: Of course.:: Ceylith was decidedly pleased with herself. Salt clung to her skin, making ugly----well, at least C’ren found them hideous----patches of pale green against her brilliant emerald hide. It also itched horribly, but the dragon was, nonetheless, content. After all, she had seen shipfish! They were such funny little creatures, always jumping and playing in the waves. So of course she had run right into the water to play with them. Speaking of water… the Green looked at the edge of the Weyrlake now, hoping to see some others here. The water was nearly frozen now; perhaps near the middle of the lake the ice was thinner, but she didn’t want to risk it.

While she was not a very cunning dragon, she still knew her rider well. If he was to be social, she had to engineer it. And he never could stand having a salt-covered dragon in the weyr.

In the back of his mind, C’ren darkly suspected that Ceylith had done it on purpose. Well, of course she had. No one would accidentally dive into the water after some silly shipfish. The Greenrider collected the required cleaning materials----this included three brushes, soapsand, and several large buckets of warm water----and settled down to clean Ceylith. Or he tried to.

“Ceylith… please, stand still? I can’t wash you if you keep moving around!” He lifted up the sopping brush and attempted to run it across the dragon’s shoulder, but she danced away happily. Apparently she was having one of her hyper attacks. Either that, or she was just trying to attract attention. Quite unlike her usual shyness. Had to be some sort of random attack of hyper. Or someone had been sneaking her extra food again. C’ren attempted to look severe as he shook the brush at her, saying in his best warning voice, “Ceyliiiiith… behave! Come on, the sooner we get you all cleaned up and pretty, the sooner we can go back to the weyr. Our nice warm weyr.” Once again the brush attempted to caress the Green’s shoulder.

She, however, wasn’t done with her fun and snagged the brush in her mouth, resulting an impromptu game of Tug-of-War. She could, of course, win easily. But that wasn’t very fun, now was it? The point of the game was to keep them both out here as long as possible.



Ooc| I wasn’t sure what season it is, but one of the other rps on the lake says it’s pretty darn cold. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.