Logs:19
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| RL Date: 29 June, 2013 |
| Who: N'ky, Cailluneth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: N'ky turns 19. |
| Where: Cailluneth's Ledge |
| When: Day 14, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions |
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| Cailluneth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr High up, where the wind whistles freely by no matter what the season is, this weyr ledge is secluded and cold, kept out of the sun for most of the day by the rocky outcropping of the Weyr's rim. It offers a decent view of most of the Weyr with the lake in the far distance, but the real show-stopper is at night: the skies open up above it, with - weather permitting, of course - a clear view of the 'Reaches stars, mostly unobstructed given its location. It's of just smaller than average size, big enough for two dragons to perch side by side, or for a smaller one to lounge, though its lack of sun and warmth tends not to encourage such activities. A narrow entranceway into the weyr may cause difficulties for a larger dragon, unless they're careful to tuck their wings in; once inside, though, it opens up to a couch that's amply sized for a pair of dragons to comfortably cuddle. It's mostly open to the rider's quarters, leaving little separation between lifemates. The first thought of the morning? Cold. Stiff. Eurgh. The second? A dolorous Happy turnday to me. The wuffling of Cailluneth's breath was hot against his side, as she curved her neck around to look at him sleepily. N'ky squirmed to ease the stiffness from his long limbs; he'd fallen asleep cuddled against his lifemate again, and comforting as her warm hide was sleeping between her forelegs and against the cold of her couch did nothing for him. Something popped as he stretched, and it felt good enough for N'ky to sigh. Fiery goldenpink swirled around Cailluneth's mind, tinged with grey worry and accented with a staccato heartbeat; she was concerned that he wasn't waking up in the best of moods. "It's alright, my Heart." Stiffly, he got to his feet, taking a few steps to be able to lean against her dark face, curling his arms around her muzzle to hug her tightly, being careful not to bump her with his cast. « Sometimes I wish you were still small enough to carry about. » He shared an image of a pudgy little green, cuddled into his lap, being carried wherever he went. N'ky laughed; Cailluneth snorted her amusement. « You're just as beautiful now. You're the best thing about today. » Because Faranth knew there probably wasn't anything else for him to look forward to. He'd got back from Southern, and had to have the cast reapplied to his left arm, as the exertions of the trip had jeopardised what had already been barely healed. They really laid into him in the infirmary when he walked in, especially when he told them he'd removed it himself using tools from his own farrier's tool belt. No amount of protesting had been able to win the Healers round, and this time, he had to check in once a seven so they could be sure he was still wearing it. As if he'd make that mistake twice. The trip had hardly been worth the trouble either, what with the storm and everything. N'ky placed a kiss to Cailluneth's soft nose, and stepped back from her. There was a little more fluidity to his movements now as his limbs began to warm up, and he set about his typical morning routine to get ready for the day. « There's something here, my Heart.» Cailluneth shared an image of an envelope, tucked half-under a rock to keep it from blowing away in the permanent wind that buffeted their ledge. Her image of it was just inside the entrance passage to the couch; it radiated unknown colours as she tried to work out who had left it there. No luck on that front, though the green dragon followed the scent trail back out to the ledge proper to try and get a better feel for it, while N'ky picked up and opened the letter. There were two notes inside; one small, hurriedly-written in his uncle's handwriting, wrapped around a mark coin. He read that first, toying with the mark in his gloved hand. N'ky, your father meant to send this to the Weyr. He doesn't know I stopped it from going. Your sisters and I wish you a happy turnday. - Ansly Then he looked to the other letter, written in the childlike script his father had; it was messy, the writing of a man more used to the riding the land than putting pen to paper. To the Weyr, The issue of my son is yet to be resolved. I demand- N'ky stopped there, drawing in a deep breath only to exhale it heavily onto the parchment. The letter went on in the vein that Ansly had already written to him about; not only was Lenwyh unhappy with the discounted deal Aishani had worked out with him, but he was now demanding compensation for having lost a son - an able-bodied worker - to the Weyr. It was all utter bullshit, and the more N'ky read, the angrier he got. Cailluneth's eyes began to whirl redly, the menacing growl of concern rising in her throat as she picked up on his displeasure. « Fu-- stuff him, my Heart. » Even worked up as he was, N'ky couldn't bring himself to think that word. He reached out to cool the roiling red and black of his lifemate's angered mind, soothing her with a bubble of calm that he didn't quite feel himself. « We'll fix it. Azaylia doesn't need to see it. She has bigger things to worry about. We'll fix it, my Heart. Somehow. » Exactly how they could fix it was on his mind all throughout the breakfast he took on his own, brooding at one of the tables in the kitchen. It had him in a darker mood than usual as reported for the day's duties, and it didn't lighten any as lunch rolled around either. It was only when he saw a certain familiar face in the lunch crowd that a tiny lightning bolt from his personal thundercloud struck him - she would know what to do. Hadn't she mentioned methods of keeping someone quiet before? Now wasn't the time, though, not with so many people around. With his mind firmly on how to go about asking what he needed to, N'ky went back to work. Turnday? What turnday. Later that night, as he curled up once more with Cailluneth, N'ky realised that he was 19, and that this was the first turnday ever that he hadn't celebrated in some way. The first turnday in turns that he hadn't had a best friend to celebrate it with. The first turnday that he didn't actually care. Everything important to him was right there within the draughty, cold couch he shared with Cailluneth. The last thought of the night? Everything else can go to Thread. |
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