Logs:(Un)Sentimental
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| RL Date: 16 February, 2016 |
| Who: Alida, Dahlia, Ilicaeth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida comes to give Dahlia a gift that was Lilah's. It doesn't go as she'd planned. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Early in the morning and late in the evening, the cold rain falling turns to almost-pleasant snow, but most of the day is mired in a bleak, gray drizzle. |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions |
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>---< Council Room, Fort Weyr(#839RJs$) >------------------------------------<
The Weyr's meeting space is a long, oval space with a large stone table
placed in the middle. There's seating enough for twelve around the table:
plenty of room to welcome most of the Weyrleaders and a good portion of
the Lord Holders from the north, though additional seating might be needed
if a Pern-wide meeting were to be held here.
A sideboard stands ready to serve, regardless of the occasion and is kept
well-stocked with carafes of wine, water and several fine liquors. Fresh
flowers, appropriate to the season are changed out regularly in the vase
atop the sideboard. Tapestries depicting Fort's illustrious history from
founding, to Moreta's role in the Plague to Lessa's arrival to bring the
Weyrs forward in time bedeck the walls, leavening the omnipresence of
cool, gray stone. Well-lit, the chamber boasts glows in niches around the
room, as well as oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Alida F 29 5'7" athletic, white-blond hair, clear green ey 1s
Dahlia F 19 5'9" sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes 0s After having impulsively seized on the idea of 'unloading' a certain left-behind gift with someone who might appreciate it more, Alida's only now made it inside of Fort's council room...the woman having had a very brief, but consciousness-raising argument with Ilicaeth after the pair landed. After fully parsing his human's intentions, the blue wound up gently shoulder-checking the blonde while mentally applying one of his harsher forms of 'the brakes' on her. « Remember the Hold? » That's one of the very, very few incidents from the past that's actually stuck with the dragon, even after Turns. Memory of *that* particular impulsive (though well-intentioned) fuck up had the guard's eyes widening, her cheeks pinkening...but only before Ilicaeth, thank Faranth. Pink accelerator, meet huge blue brake. It took her a minute to solidly collect her head back together again, to try and form another 'plan of attack' on how to get the box to Dahlia's place of residence without freaking out anybody AND without being bothered or seen... but now, there's the vaguarities of the Council Room to try and figure out. More like the potential people within it. It's a rare gold who isn't aware of the minds within her physical Weyr and Taeliyth is more watchful than most. Even with eggs to (reluctantly) mind, as soon as Ilicaeth announces himself to the watchdragon, Taeliyth is aware of his presence here. She doesn't reach out to him directly, but certainly, he's being watched from a distance, from where the gold perches on the highest ledge of the rim of the hatching cavern (she can see the eggs; it's not cheating, really!), apparently enjoying the light falling of the snow. Foot falls warn of impending company in the Council Room and Dahlia's entering without much attention for her surroundings as her eyes linger on the top most report of those in her arms. There's a mental, dry chuff of wordless greetings to Taeliyth as she watches him and the goings-on in her Weyr, Ilicaeth's manner mellow and pleasant, though he doesn't try to engage the gold in his usual types of conversation. *She's* got eggs, and *he's* got a mercurial human lifemate to keep an eye and ear out for, so chattering will have to wait for some other time. A 'tip of his hat' will have to do. As for Alida, she's finally made up her mind (damn these sudden change of plans!), and is now stepping towards the tunnel - the foot long/high/deep crate in her hands held just before her...and then somebody's coming in. FUCK it! And it just *had* to be Dahlia, too. She's heard enough about the junior weyrwoman to recognize her without ever having directly met her, before. It's not much mystery, Dahlia's identity. The big knot on the shoulder of her grey sweater really gives that much away readily. With as little attention as she's paying, it's fortunate that she stops just within the Council Room or she'd likely bowl into the bluerider. As it is, she stops, looking dissatisfied with something on the hide for a moment before a sigh dismisses whatever it is and she looks up to find where she's going to put these things so the proper people get them, and instead she finds a platinum haired woman. "Oh," is mild surprise. "Hello." The inflection is curious. "Can I help you?" What the shell can she do now? The person she 'wants' is right there, but Alida doesn't want to deal with humans, right now. Leaving the crate behind is out of the question, right now, and dealing with the potential emotional excesses the 'gift' might bring brings a subtle moue of distaste to the bluerider's lips. And so, like the trooper she is, the 'Reachian chooses untabled option 'C': retreat. Along the way, as she reverses direction and has to slowly pass the goldrider, the helmeted woman nods once at the Fortian, offers her a low, "Weyrwoman," then a brisk, "Nah. Just lookin' fer someone. I'll find 'em later." Ilicaeth, however, isn't letting his not-so-social human get away with *this* particular effort at avoidance, and notes with parched, desert humor to Taeliyth, « Unless yours stops my Alida, she likely won't get ta accept what's in the crate. » Maybe for good, given Alida's propensity to dislike interacting with other humans too much. Chuff...smirk. It might seem at first that Taeliyth didn't hear him, but of course she did. "I'm sorry," Dahlia's look is perplexed. "Taeliyth says you were looking for me? Should I know why?" Her eyes fall to the crate, dark brows lifted in question. « What is in the crate? » It's the logical next from the gold who's tone lacks in any kind of obvious emotion. She might as well be asking about the weather. « Traitor! » is Alida's immediate riposte to Ilicaeth once Dahlia asks that, the bluerider looking slightly irked for a moment, then shrugging her jacketed shoulders. Siiigh. "Yeah...." Whatever. As legs carry her slowly closer to the broad council room table, green eyes flick over Dahlia, as if memorizing the junior in a measured glance. Noted a little flatly, "This sorta belong ta you...if you want it." Another shrug soon sees the little crate settled lightly onto the table's top, while Ilicaeth informs the gold with mixed humor and graveness, « Your past. » The irked look makes Dahlia's brows hike a little higher and the weyrwoman takes an unconscious step back. It can be little wonder that she doesn't follow the bluerider. "I'm sorry?" It's the very polite way of saying 'what on Pern are you talking about?' although the goldrider's tone is one of confusion, tinged with just a little something else. Taeliyth's return to Ilicaeth is the coolness of a dark Wood under gnarled boughs and the slight stench of something rotting and wrong. « Explain, » is not an entirely patient word. Okay. Alida watches Dahlia's reaction while listening to the goldrider speak, the bluerider slowly adjusting her 'outer presentation' of her persona so as not to so easily freak the Fortian. She looks less cool and indifferent - less hard - while a slightly richer alto now notes quietly, "It was Lilah an' Eli's...but it's yers, too." Faintest irritation in having to do this, to have to 'gently' explain is covered up in a small pause before the bluerider notes, "It was a gift from me." Beat. "Us. To them." A faint flare of something sad behind green eyes is quickly snuffed out, countermanded with, "Ain't harmful." Sigh. Wood meets rasping, furnace-hot golden sands, the fine particles whorling lightly over that stench of 'wrongness,' seeking to render it neutral. The 'Reachian blue's rasping baritone offers, « It's *you*. In yer egg. » Chuff. « Don't tell 'er. » It's a nice surprise, after all. Goldriders get a lot of training for how to look composed. Dahlia does, really, as she regards the rider, her eyes dropping to the knotless shoulder and finding the badge. Her lips draw into just the smallest touch of a frown but it's gone in the next moment. « Does your rider get how very strange this is? » Because Taeliyth does and doesn't have a problem saying so. It's weird. That wrongness in the Wood lurks, with now just a little hint of predatory danger. "I'm sorry," Dahlia says again, brow slightly furrowed, "Who are you?" Perhaps that's the place to start. « Not really. She's a guard. » Ilicaeth offers dryly to Taeliyth, the blue a little more cautious, now, but still genial. To him, his words should explain everything. Still, « She's got good intentions. » How Dahlia takes the gift, however, is up to the goldrider. Inside, and deeper inside herself, Alida is rolling her eyes, groaning, and wishing she'd never gave into the urge to offer this gift to Dahlia. Humans are too sharding complicated, and the blonde is too mistrusting, too sick of dealing with them. Still, she's donned her most politic face, and so shows nothing more than common courtesy while answering the weyrwoman, "Alida. Lilah an' I were...good acquaintences." Pause, think. "Maybe workin' towards friends..." Until she disappeared. Green eyes sometimes move from goldrider to the box on the table, in order to give the other female a respite from that often harsh regard of the bluie's. "This...." a nod towards the little crate, "...was a gift fer her." Sigh. "Try ta make 'er feel better...regarding a gold egg." A lumpen and not necessarily-promising gold egg. « Then she, more than anyone, should appreciate that here, she is the danger. She has no knot, no introduction, and only your vouching for her good intention has kept me from sending someone to ensure it. » Taeliyth's derision is obvious: they're idiots. A name given seems to put Dahlia slightly more at ease, though she hasn't moved from where she is. Her eyes move from the woman to, briefly, the box. "I'm-- not sure I understand. If it was something between the two of you..." Her brow dip in confusion. "Lilah and I weren't friends. She didn't even like me." It doesn't really matter now for that to be known. Pfft. He's dealt with worse tongue lashings than hers, so Ilicaeth lets the insult splash off his stone like...water off of stone. Shrug. They're not politically correct...but *he knows* the mettle of his own rider. Alida means not an ounce of harm. He won't bother with caustic Taeliyth unless she demands his attention further, the blue's fine sand dispersing upon an errant breeze as he coolly withdraws. Back inside, Alida's trying hard not to let her impatience show. Working to keep her features neutral, her voice a touch warmer, the blonde finally moves to the box, slowly pries it open, then untucks the felt-wrapped something inside, sets it on the council table. As fingers slowly pull back the buff-colored felt and reveal the 'gift,' the bluerider murmurs, "It was *your* dragon's egg." A chin jerk down at the lovely, crafted thing is annexed by the 'Reachian's fingers opening the brass catch of the egg, and slowly opening it to reveal the 'treasure' within. Only a little tersely, the older woman notes, "Yer the one ta inherit it. It has...more meaning fer you than me." She sounds only a little sad when admitting that. "*If* you want it." Beat. "Ain't gonna force anything on anybody." Not *here*, anyway. Not now. It's a Faberge-esque egg about 7" tall, made of ceramic glazed in a golden color with a pattern near-exactly like the lumpy-ish gold egg Eliyaveith's guarding. It has a tiny, brass- golden catch and a hinge at the back. Inside, it's lined with rich golden sisal, and has a curled up brass dragonet on a pillow of pale cream sisal. Her eyes are little, faceted red garnets. Inside the lid of the egg is stitched a pillowy pattern of golden thread, with little, white fresh-water seed pearls where the diagonals overlap. It's plain that Dahlia's baffled, even after the explanation. She still doesn't move from her position, but she does let her eyes fall to the crate. There is recognition briefly as she take in the sight of the whole. There's a lot of blinking as she watches the egg open and sees what's within, and then more blinking in the silence that follows. Her expression is unreadable. Certainly, if Alida was expecting an emotional response of some kind, it's not obvious if it's happening at all. After some moments, "I'm sure that you mean well, Alida," there's genuine apology there, "but I'm not sure what to tell you other than that I'm sure as a gift between acquaintances, it almost surely has more meaning for you than it does for me. It's kind-" she sounds a little uncertain about that but she moves on quickly to something more firmly politic, "to offer me this piece of your history with Fort, but I'm not sure it would have the home you wish it with me." Well then, Dahlia's *lack* of emotion was something Alida hadn't planned for, and how the goldrider reacts when presented with the egg leaves the bluie a little surprised...seen in the blink of her green eyes and a quizzical lofting of pale brows for just a moment. It's adaptation time again, though, and the blonde finally nods a pair of times, and slowly begins to close up, then box back up the 'gift.' As she does so, her alto murmurs, "I had ta offer you the chance; it's yer queen in that egg, after all." Shrug. As for history with Fort, there's a quickly-swallowed, unvoiced little catch of dark laugher at the back of the 'Reachian's throat. "No need ta worry about my feelings, weyrwoman. I ain't offended." And - beyond a very momentary, small welling of loyalty to Lilah - oddly, she isn't. "Sorry ta bother you." A gentle nudge from Ilicaeth inspires a further, "Didn't mean ta cause suspicion in you an' yers." "I... appreciate the thought, but it isn't. My queen is the living breathing dragon on the sands." Uh. Well, near, but perhaps Dahlia's not aware of that. Her brows are a little furrowed. "Next time, I would suggest you start with a name and wear a knot." Now she moves, toward the far end of the table where she can begin to settle her arm full of hides. "I'm sorry if you came here expecting something else. Clear skies to you, bluerider and Fort's duties to High Reaches." These must be details from Taeliyth's words with the watchdragon. There's a small bob of her helmeted head for the first of Dahlia's words, but, given the politic turn of things, Alida refrains from mentioning to the weyrwoman exactly what she was intending to do when she'd first arrived, merely rolls her eyes internally. Politics is very not her. "No need..." is noted again, a little more like her usual self - almost flat. "Things are what they are." Pragmatic, indeed. "Clear skies, and a good clutch to you and your lifemate, as well." Gathering the box back up in her hands, hefting it easily from the table and pivoting around to stride back out, the bluie murmurs, "Reaches to Fort, as well..." before she's moving off quietly, soon making heself and Ilicaeth scarce. |
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