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“Faranth, no,” K’rent whispered under his breath when he noticed who was sauntering toward the weyrling table. It was B’gual, High Reaches’ newest wingleader, promoted for reasons no one quite understood during L’tan’s brief tenure. B’gual, for all of his self-importance, had no idea what he was doing as a wingleader. That much was obvious during their three days of shadowing. He’d done the exact same maneuvers T’bor had had them run through, only without the corrections - probably because he didn’t know them well enough.
“They’re doomed,” K’rent added, giving a pitying look to his fellow brownrider, B’cav, when he and J’ral got tapped to join the Donner wing. B’cav might get some assistance from B’gual, but a greenrider could expect no such courtesy. J’ral’s anxiety melted a little when he got to his new table and was greeted heartily by both P’ton and V’lewter. If anyone could keep B’gual in line, the greenleaders could. Maybe his brief time as their assistant had taught him something, K’thael hoped.
The remaining weyrlings ate nervously, chattering to each other about who would get chosen for which wing and arguing whether anyone would be left behind for further training. B’rel, seated at the far end with his greenrider friends, Th’wip and Z’dyne, seemed to be tempering their disappointment at waiting - none were yet old enough to ride in a fighting wing - by betting on the outcomes instead. Popular opinion was that K’thael would have to do more training, especially after the class learned that the bluerider had gone between times - Gr’lin made them do an hours-long presentation on the dangers of Timing it as punishment, to ensure they’d never do it again. B’rel cursed and handed Th’wip a mark when he saw who had gotten tapped for B’gual’s wing.
K’thael sighed, already knowing what their future held in store and why. They were grateful that Gr’lin had warned them, at least, so they could prepare. Sprilth was unexpectedly excited about the opportunity, always eager to meet more people that would talk to him.
I’m already over here next to Yasith. Sprilth giggled. It’s like a secret clue for anybody that’s paying attention. Not that anybody is. Most of them are more interested in seeing who their new wingmates will be. I’m glad we’re not going to Donner wing, because then I’d have to sit near Hegseth, and he sometimes steps on toes. Yasith called him a big galoot, but don’t tell him that, ok? No one wants to be a galoot.
I’m glad we’re not going to Donner wing, either, Sprilth. Which wingleader is coming over next?
They didn’t have to wait long to see B’nir striding toward the table with a barely concealed smile on his face. Rumor had it that some of the wingleaders had been arguing over certain choice riders, and he had won a race to get first pick. K’rent’s smile matched his own when B’nir put a hand on his shoulder, and he practically leapt up from the table in excitement. K’thael smiled for him, genuinely glad he’d been chosen for the B’nir’s wing - that had been his first choice, too. B’nir picked another brownrider, R’garr, and little Ch’sell of green Theleoth to round out his wing. Unlike the first group, all three seemed elated to have been chosen for the Cupit wing. Their new wingmates greeted them enthusiastically. K’thael wondered offhandedly whether anyone remembered that it was B’nir’s Ladranth who had sired their clutch.
I would have been good in Cupit wing. I’m the fastest blue there is! But you wouldn’t have liked it too much. You get grumpy when people rush you. And then you make this face. K’thael had to curb a laugh at their dragon’s attempt to mimic their expression. He looked more constipated than grumpy.
So it went with G’bear lumbering over a few minutes later, tapping E’nar and two blueriders to join his wing. E’nar nodded, trying to look dignified. He had put a lot of pressure on himself since Impressing Hemmeth, and even more so once he became the class’s only remaining bronzerider. K’thael gave him a giant, goofy smile anyway - they knew how much he’d tried to get in G’bear’s good graces. The wingleader’s yelling seemed to inspire him all the more. K’thael was relieved to see all of the Branzer wingriders embracing their newest recruits.
Everybody else got to go already! What about us? When do we get a turn? Did they forget us? Sprilth interjected impatiently after all seven eligible wingleaders had made their selections. His rider would have expected T’bor to go last, but Gr’lin insisted that the Weyrleader’s wing didn’t tap weyrlings. Now K’thael and their three youngest clutchmates were the only ones left at the long table in the back. B’rel shot them a concerned look from the other end, wondering if they were going to get stuck doing more training. K’thael shrugged, both at B’rel and in answer to their dragon’s question.
I don’t know. Maybe Vixton wing doesn’t do the tapping ceremony. They don’t even have a table, K’thael pointed out, trying not to sound too disappointed. It was true. The only permanent members of the wing were the goldriders, and they all sat at the head table. Injured riders generally sat with their usual wings, even when they were on restrictions, and the retirees sat at their own table whether they still fought Thread or not. There was a growing unease in their stomach as they considered whether they’d rather be stuck at the weyrling table permanently or shuffled over to sit with the old folks. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.
It was at that point when a soft hand fell on their shoulder. K’thael spun around with a glare, ready to punch whoever approached from behind to touch them but stopped when they recognized Weyrwoman Naldama. Oh. She must have snuck up while they were busy thinking. “Um… hi,” the bluerider said, forcing their face into what was hopefully a less hostile expression. This was the first time they’d met - they didn’t want to seem like a tailfork.
“Welcome to the Vixton wing,” the weyrwoman said in a soft, velvety voice, ignoring the raised fist to smile down at K’thael. “We have a lot to talk about.”