Bedtime Stories [Open!]

[Windra]

"O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done!
The ship has weathered ev'ry rack, the prize we sought is one!
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my Captain lies!
Fallen cold and dead."

Freshly bathed and oiled, clutched together in the warmth of a rather large fur hide, this night would only be made that much better if hot cocoa or klah were on hand. But alas, neither wanted to budge. And F'yore was pretty sure dragons could not drink klah (although she wondered the veracity of that thought). This evening was exceptionally cool and a draft wafted its way through the halls, clinging to the rocks where fire didn't touch.

Oh that's wonderful! What does it mean? Geminith was a beacon of light despite the darkness of the poem. F'yore turned the hide over, briefly wondering of the thing's origin. She'd found it in the Records room, promising herself to return it later. Why did the Captain die? That's what happened, right? Did the weather make him sick? Did he get seasick?

"Seasickness won't kill you," F'yore advised her. The garnet was small enough to still fit in the folds of their furs, but her hindquarters were sticking out and it couldn't quite make it over her broad shoulders to the floor, even with the wings tucked away. "Well, scratch that. It could if you were dehydrated enough. Vomiting causes you to lose your fluids."

Tangeream's little body was perched on the post of F'yore's bed while they curled up on the floor below. Her small muzzle dipped now and again as sleep threatened to take hold.

Why not drink the water in the sea?

"Seawater is filled with salt!"

So?

"So the salinity would dehydrate you even further!" She bumped shoulders with the dragon. "Don't drink ocean water. Not only is it super salty, but it's filled with waste from fish and stuff." F'yore cleared her throat. "Should we continue?"

Geminith's glittery cranium bobbed excitedly. Snorting, she pressed on - her voice low and soft, but purposeful and steady. The words carried into the weyrling hallway through their open door.

"O Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells!
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills!"