Logs:A Savannah Initiation
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| RL Date: 25 March, 2014 |
| Who: Telavi, Nita, R'hin, Bristia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi and Nita's initiation into Savannah Wing goes... strangely, after a night of celebration. |
| Where: Somewhere in the Igen Desert |
| When: Day 6, Month 5, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Oisa/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| 'Encouraged' might be a nice description; 'pressured' could be used, too, but it's R'hin, and so 'enticed' is likely the most apt word for invitation to the evening's outing. Solith's given an image, though the whole thing is quite dark, but there are enough outlines here and there, and a ring of light in the dark landscape below is enough of a beacon to pull the pair through the safety of between. When the green lands, it's on shifting sand underfoot, though the air itself is chill -- which might explain why there's those fires lit, and moonshine and some of Savannah are rugged up (because most of them are used to Monaco's warmth) but the more adventurous are starting to get used to the cooler weather. (It's good moonshine.) There's laughter and singing of bawdy tales (with Bristia leading with her perfect harper pitch), R'hin telling stories of desert tribes once following the rivers north to the supposed source of life; E'nest messily and obviously hitting on Telavi (and Nita, and Bristia and heck, just about every female in the wing, taking rebuffs in stride); young Nita herself dancing around in little but her slip, spinning and spinning endlessly while she stares upwards, transfixed by the distant stars. (It's really good moonshine.) Morning is rather less festive and welcome. There's the steadily growing, oppressive heat, the dry mouth syndrome, the pounding of head, and in amongst that is the realization... ...where is everyone else, anyway? Has she been in a desert before? I mean, they all really look the same -- sand, endless sand, stretching in every direction. Light (painful, terrible light) determines that the evening's festivities took place in a natural dip, a long-dry once riverbed. The burnt out remnants of the fire is visible, but long cold. Telavi stirs uncomfortably, reaching for-- not there; what is there is sand where it doesn't belong, and it itches, so of course she scratches. Not the smartest thing she's ever done, and neither is licking her lips against the dryness. She mutters, sitting up unhappily-- motion, it isn't good for her head-- and stares blearily around. It's bright. That's no fun. It requires a lot of blinking and shielding her eyes and... oops, shouldn't have rubbed her eyes quite that soon and where is-- she looks behind her, headache or no headache. No one. "Hello?" Yes, indeed, no one. Not even an convenient avian to squawk at her. (It's getting hot -- they're probably finding somewhere cool to spend their day.) Solith, at least, is a present and welcome presence in her mind. She, at least, seems happily distracted by the older dragons of Savannah Wing, who are following a long, lazy, twisting and turning river. They're taking turns diving down into the cool water, trying to snatch up some of the leaping and churning fish. Then no one is going to hear Telavi swear, not that their presence would stop her in the right-- or wrong-- mood. Her hands go up to reddened cheeks, not reddened by the sun yet but just give them time; in the desert, even a tan only goes so far. Her eyes clam shut and she spends a few long moments in self-pity before sighing-- and wincing because of it-- and taking stock of her supplies. Surely she's still got the clothes she showed up in, at the least-- doesn't she? She doesn't have her flight jacket, but in this weather she probably wouldn't want it anyway. From further along the curve of the dried riverbed, over the rise of the next dune, she might be able to hear the faint sounds of something over the wind. It's indistinct enough to not be able to make out clearly, but different enough to not be natural. It's something. She could bother Solith, or so she might imagine, but... everyone is gone. And come to think of it, didn't the story mention following the river? Tela slits her eyes against the light, takes a good look at the burnt-out circle, and starts trudging along the riverbed towards the sound. She doesn't attempt any shortcuts. Rolling her sleeves back down despite the heat, that's about what she's up for right at the moment. The closer the gets, the more obvious the sound becomes. Someone's emptying the contents of their stomach. When she crests the dune along the path of the former riverbed, that someone is obvious, from the spill of red hair, to the color of that white slip. Poor Nita -- she looks just as bad, or worse -- than Telavi's probably feeling. It's enough to make already-troubled Telavi turn green, and not her changeable blue-green eyes, either. "Faranth! Nita! Don't do that!" Don't dehydrate yourself! Or, maybe: don't make Telavi feel worse! "What's going on?" Aside from what's... going up. There's a groan from Nita that might be acknowledgement, and she squints through the curtain of her hair at Telavi. Recognition takes a moment to spark in dull, hungover gaze, before she brightens incrementally. "Telavi!" she practically gushes loudly, oh so loudly. But probably not /that/ loudly, just comparatively so. It's accompanied by her staggering to her feet and throwing her arms around the other greenrider, clearly relieved at seeing someone else. Too too loudly, Telavi wincing and off-guard when there's the whoosh of hot-and-not-in-the-good-way maybe-sticky Nita and she staggers. Also, after the first whiff, she tries not to catch Nita's breath; hopefully the other girl didn't get any in her hair... "Did you just wake up?" Funny how Telavi's not letting go right away, though, what with the two of them propping each other up and oh, right, another person. "I don't--" Nita pulls away, just enough to be able to see Telavi's expression, brow creased in sudden confusion. "Fuck, I'm thirsty. Where is everyone? And why is Ishikath acting all coy?" She looks expectantly at Telavi, like she might have the answers. "Because--" says Telavi, Telavi who was Nita's weyrlingmaster under Quinlys not so very long ago, Telavi who now reaches for Solith to ask-- demand, really-- actual answers. Time to fly back and get them now, enough with the games. Nita's head tips as she waits for Telavi to come up with a better answer than because. With a sigh, like she's realized the other greenrider is totally faking it, she straightens and begins striding determindly towards the nearest rise of a sand dune. "Because they're messing with us," Telavi says firmly; Solith may not be much help, what with those older dragons' distractions, but she knows that much. "Nita. Don't go that way." That's that familiar voice, not just firm after all, expecting to be obeyed because she knows what she's doing. "You want to walk? Let's go along the riverbed. Better footing, less with the getting lost. Unless you have a really good reason for something different," and Tela's waiting to hear it. "I wanted to see if we could find anything our dragons can use as a visualization. Everything looks so... the same," Nita throws over her shoulder with a distinct frown at Telavi's in charge voice. But she's still determinedly striding the wrong way. She's a hard outline against the light of the day as she reaches the crest of the dune, and the slump of her shoulders when she sees whatever she sees is fairly telling. Telavi's gaze doesn't follow her all that closely, not with the blinking thanks to that bright, bright light on pained eyes; that slump does get a purse of her lips that evades a told-you-so. Instead, "The fire circle is back that way," with a thumb hooked over her shoulder in the direction whence she'd come. "Such as it is. But Solith thinks they're playing a game." This verges on petulant. "They could at least have left us some wine. They didn't leave you any, did they?" "I wish," Nita says in that fervent way one might well yearn for hair-of-the-dog. "Fine. We'll follow the riverbed then." At least there's a we in that. "I normally like games, and last night was... well, fun, but this is just mean," she concludes, trudging in the earlier indicated direction, with a glance at Telavi. "Has he... talked to you about what he plans?" While she's heading Telavi's way, Tela's toeing at the dirt, knocking little rocks more or less into an arrow; exploring the deepest caverns at Benden, in packs of other girls and on her own, has to be good for something. Plus, maybe that way someone focusing on the fire circle can find their bones. She gives in to rolling her eyes, with a sigh that's complaint all by itself without actual words, and trudges along with the other greenrider. "No. Not really, hints and things but-- you're actually in the wing, Nita," or at least that's how Telavi's putting it. Nita knows stuff! "What have you heard?" "Well, he took me on a--" and Nita gives Telavi a sidelong look at the reminder that she is in the wing, and Telavi is not. This seems to clam the girl up with a considered frown as she trudges along. "I heard all sorts of things -- everyone told me stories as soon as it was announced I would be in Savannah. I was really upset for a while." With a casual shrug, she seems to brush that off. "Why aren't you going back to your old wing?" she wonders. Tela's slight moue suggests awareness of her misstep; "But you like it now?" she wonders. "Not now-now, but before? Boreal... well, Oisa isn't Z'ian, is she. I don't know if you knew Z'ian. But he had ideas, sort of like R'hin does, I guess; and I didn't want Boreal either, but I did like the Weyrleader picking me," this with a half-smile Nita's way. Not that Z'ian had that rank at the time, but-- close enough! They're out of site of the fire circle and last night's frivolities by now, and as they walk Nita's pace falls into the steady, fast rhythm of one used to running. "I never really saw that much of Z'ian, when I came by the Weyr," she says, dismissively. "And he was gone by the time I was Searched. And," with a glance at the other greenrider, "I heard the Weyrleader ends up with those that none of the other Wingleaders want. Although, I suppose that depends on the Weyrleader," she says, after another considering moment. Telavi's probably the first to spot it, as they step over the rise of another dune -- in the midst of the dip of riverbed they're following, there's a glimmer of something on the horizon. Tela stares at her with genuine perplexity; "Who even says that?" Have they taught Nita so wrongly?! She'd toss her hair if she weren't busy walking, not a true runner's swiftest stride but ground-eating nonetheless. "Someone who wanted to be there and wasn't," she guesses with a muted laugh, one spoiled by licking her dry lips. And then, ugh, tasting dust. "But- anyway, you know Oisa, she's-- Oh, look! Way up ahead. Tell me that's not a mirage." With a secretive (and somewhat pleased) smile, Nita says, "Former Weyrleaders." Because she knows so many of those. When Telavi draws her attention forward, however, she sucks in a sharp breath that suggests Telavi isn't the only one that's seeing it. With a noise of delight, the greenrider pushes into a full run, leaving deep footprints in the sand as she scurries ahead. She can be pleased; Tela can be entertained, though this time she doesn't respond. What's less entertaining is the running; she doesn't attempt to call Nita back this time-- the girl had been a runner, her former assistant weyrlingmaster knows that much, and must guess that she knows what she's doing despite the heat-- but rather keeps walking along. If it's a race, Nita will get there first... if she can keep it up in the heat. The other greenrider seems to set a steady pace, but isn't slowing. It's about here that Telavi catches sight of something weird, with her footprints. They look less like feet and more like... paws? But that's weird -- must just be the way she's running, with toes pointed downward into the sand for purchase. Further inspection, though -- in particular looking back at their footprints behind them -- makes her own seem very paw-like as well. Fuckin' weird. Telavi actually squints at those footprints, as though to triple-check that's what's really going on; maybe Nita got custom boots? Maybe she could get custom boots, not the same pattern but still, something interesting. If Nita's actually running in the tracks of some ginormous greenrider-eating desert creature... maybe it'll be full once it's had its way with the younger girl. There's the sounds of... splashing? Up ahead. If it is a mirage, it's sticking persistently, and it's a strange sight once Telavi's close enough to see it fully. There's a single, dead straight tree, the fronds of which curve and provide a slight shade. At the base, there's a small pool of water, that's currently occupied (in a very tight sort of space) with Nita, and... a complete stranger. The man's bald, sweat dripping down his bare chest. He's fairly rotund -- no rider's athleticism to him -- and he's squinting at Nita in a way that suggests he's not pleased about sharing his pool. Nita seems oblivious, or uncaring of the looks she's receiving. "Tela!" she's calling, "Get in, it's so amazing!" Perhaps it would be if there where any room for her to squeeze in, too. ...How much did they drink, anyway?! Telavi stares at Nita and stares at the man and crowds into the however-slight shade. "Who the shell are you?" she demands of the man, licking her lips again because there's no room and-- is she desperate enough to drink from where those two have been?! With a splash of water, the man brings a handful of the clear, cool, refreshing water and splashing it over his head. Most of it splatters out onto the sand, instantly drying in the heat. "Would you ask your friend to leave my pool?" is all he retorts. Meanwhile, Nita's staring back at Telavi with a sense of uncertainty in her expression. "Uh, hello? I'm Nita?" there's a distinct duh there. "More importantly though, when did you change clothes? Did you have a hidden wardrobe stashed out here?" There's more staring from Telavi because the water is disappearing and-- she turns around in a circle, hoping for some sort of revelation, and pretty much ignoring the man's answer. Barring said revelation, she crouches; "I was talking to him, Nita. I know who you are. Do you know him? You're in his pool." So not totally ignoring him. "Clothes?" It's been a weird enough morning that she looks down at herself just in case. "I'm right here," the man says reproachfully. "If you're going to be rude you can just get out of my pool and move on." Nita's squinting at Telavi, but this time she looks like she's the one convinced Telavi's lost her mind. "You're not making sense. Aren't you thirsty and hot? Maybe you're... oh. It must be sunstroke. Here, get in the water, you'll feel better," the other greenrider's beckoning her to join. Although there's no space to do so. Oh, she's wearing what she was before. What is Nita on about anyway? Tela pushes her let's-pretend-it's-not-sweaty hair out of her eyes so that she can better narrow them at Nita: has she been leading her on all this time? She does crouch by the side of the pool-- still in the shade, thank you-- and she says to the other greenrider, "I can't get in. If you get out, there'll be room and he'll be happy too." She looks at the man as though to say, 'Be happy.' Or else. "Where are you from, sir?" Instead of getting out straight away, Nita reaches up when Tela crouches, to put a hand to Telavi's forehead. "You don't feel that hot, but, Tela..." she hesitates. "There's no one else here. Who are you talking to?" The man in question splashes some more water about. "Right here," the man declares. "And you're in my home. You should go, before my wife gets back and thinks I'm..." he trails off, eyeing Nita in her now-soaked slip. Tela's eyes widen instead of narrow this time, and she says, "The man." Again. She even reaches to pat his shoulder by way of a, "See?" Him. Right there. Unless her hand goes right through him, anyway... No, well, he feels relatively solid from that brief touch before he pulls away. Weirdly damp and sweaty in a way that makes her hand not want to linger. "Tela," Nita says, clearly and slowly, in that tone that you talk to a child in, "We're alone. You must be seeing things. And since you had time to change, can you at least give me your old clothes so I don't have to trudge around the desert in a slip?" Telavi stares. Just stares. "Okay," she says. "I don't know where R'hin got you two, but--" at least touching the guy means she doesn't really want the water for at least a few seconds. "Nita, I am not giving you my clothes, you'll be fine, they'll dry in a minute once you get out of the pool." To the man, "Do you see your wife yet? I'd love to talk to her. And... is there any place, is there any normal place around here?!" "Tela," Nita's expression goes from confused to concerned. "I think you need to stop talking to... whoeveritis. We should... get out of here." She's pulling herself out of the pool, dripping onto the desert floor and reaching to try and draw Telavi up. The man, meanwhile, just looks happy that he has the pool to himself again, stretching out, winking at Telavi. "Hang on, Nita." Those seconds are past. Tela has to dip her hand in the water, now, and... does it feel as good as it looks, clammy man-skin aside? If so, it's time to sniff it, gingerly taste it, and if that passes muster... scoop some handfuls over her head and shoulders and then drink. Along the way, the man gets the side-eye. The water, is indeed, as pleasant and inviting as it looks, cool, clear and refreshing. While she drinks, Nita stares at her worriedly and the man frowns at the further invasion of his pool. Tela eyes the water again-- and then shrugs, and strips out of her shirt to dunk it in the pool, leaving her in just a little lace-up almost-nothing until she can put it back on again; let's see if the guy frowns at that. Or, for that matter, Nita. When a girl doesn't have a bottle... Nita's not so much frowning as... looking a mixture of perplexed and worried. "Come on, Tela, we should go," she says in a soothing voice. "Come here, Nita?" Telavi, with her blouse back on, gives her imploring eyes-- and, once she's standing, an attempted tug to the other greenrider's hand, her intent to lead her over to the man and pat his bald head. "I don't think so," Nita says, in that type of tone of one who is no longer keen on indulging-the-crazy-person. The other greenrider pulls her hand free, instead putting both on her hips. The man... uh, well, where did he go? He was there a second ago. Now the pool is empty. What does Telavi do? Telavi shrieks. The increasing level of crazy from the other greenrider is clearly freaking Nita out; she backs away several steps, eyes wide. The garbled commentary may not help: there was a man and he was there and this is not funny and, "Nita?" Telavi puts her hands behind her back. "Look around. Do you see anything else out here?" She looks around, again, just in case she missed something else. Or in case something else changes. "I don't see anything," Nita says, carefully, with the barest of glances; she's keeping more of an eye on the other greenrider than anything else. Then, "Do you?" "I did," but Telavi trails off, wider-eyed now. "Do you think we should go back? Or forward? Do you think Ishikath could... could come to you here?" Because this is not funny. "I don't know where here is," Nita says, plainly, chewing her lip. "I think going forward is the only way. We just have to -- you aren't wearing an evening dress now, are you?" She guesses. "I... I think we just need to make sure if we see anything we can both see it." "Okay," Telavi says with an attempt at certainty. "No evening dress. Just my normal clothes, the blouse and the... we can call if we have to, they'll come get us." They'd better. "Just a little more water?" She crouches to drink, and then drink again before straightening, offering her hand to Nita. "We can hold hands and not get lost, just in case." And head onward. But along the way, "...Is it a pretty dress?" "It's blue, and sparkly," Nita confesses, kind of hesitantly, because she's still not sure Telavi isn't the only crazy one. After a moment, she takes Telavi's hand, and begins walking in their original direction. Somewhere during the walk (as Telavi's wet top dries all too quickly), she spots a dark-shaped beast crawling along the sand (Nita doesn't see it, though); Nita mumbles something about a grove of trees to the left that is just a dune of sand to Telavi, and their footprints stay pawprints in the sand. It's at least an hour's slow walk, before a rise of tents becomes visible. Nita's the first to hesitantly suggest it, like she's not sure it's not just another mirage. "Blue and sparkly sounds wonderful," Telavi enthuses as best she can; it becomes almost a game, pointing out this or that to see what each of them does or doesn't see, the elder greenrider now and again sucking on her shirt's hem before it's wholly dry. What it says about them that Nita sees the nicer places and the sparkles, while Telavi sees the beast and the big paws and the bald guy.... Finally, "I see it too," Tela says, dry-mouthed, though not as much as she would have been without that little pool. "We shouldn't run." Can they run? "What do you say, do we kill them when we find them?" 'When,' not 'if.' The breath of relief that Nita sighs when Telavi confirms she can see it as well is notable, as is the quickening in her step -- though she doesn't run, but keeps her hand in Telavi's. "Maybe not kill, but definitely punish," the Savannah rider smiles. The sun's hot overhead, and the largest tent presents a dark, cool opening to tempt them inside. "I like the sound of that," Telavi claims, even if it is less bloodthirsty. Perhaps she's more inclined to be forgiving with that tent up ahead, and surely she should think twice before heading straight into it, but she just doesn't; if Nita does need a tug, why, she'll give it. Nita doesn't protest, and lets herself be tugged inside. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dark after the brilliant, brightly reflected light of the desert. There's soft funishings underfoot, and throw pillows scattered on the ground here and there. In the middle is a table covered in a variety of things -- drinks from water to wine to other colorful liquids -- fresh, succulent fruit, cooked meat that fills the air with fragrant scents. And behind all that, the other members of Savannah Wing, watching them with a mixture of expressions from amused, to pleased, to surprised, to -- in E'nest's case, disappointment. "I swore it would take you at least a day to get here," he grumbles, passing over a mark piece to a pleased-looking Bristia. R'hin, meanwhile, appears behind them, a hand pressing down on each greenrider's shoulders, "Now, now. You should welcome our fellow Savannah wingriders." One by one, the other wingriders surge forward to shake their hands, or hug them (if allowed -- E'nest might even try for a not-so-stealthy grope). Wide eyes. Telavi doesn't willingly let go of Nita's hand, not right away, not even when her stomach lets out a growl at the smells that would be embarrassing under other circumstances; she can be convinced a few handshakes-and-hugs in-- Bristia most likely to get a hug, while E'nest gets a poke-- and then when they're all through... that's when she twists around and tries for a thump on R'hin's chest. "Rrrgh." It's through her teeth. Thump-thump. R'hin's dark chuckle suggests Telavi's thump of fist is not unexpected, although he exaggerates his reaction with a brief stagger backwards. "Don't be mad," he murmurs into Telavi's ear, "I made sure there was lots of pillows on the ground in case you get bored later. Here," he settles a hand into small of her back with the intention of guiding her towards that table, "I expect you're starving." Nita's busy in the cluster of wingriders, telling them all about how Telavi saw some guy in a pool, to the laughter of the group. "I'm not promising not to smother you with one," Tela tells him darkly. "If I get bored." Still, the guidance is welcome, even if Nita's back gets a narrowed glance through her lashes; she's half-smiling as she makes the trek, such as it is, and once seated-- unless there are hand towels-- dribbles some of that water on her hands to clean them before reaching for the fruit. "Who was keeping an eye on us?" "The dragons, of course, and A'gon and K'son, here and there -- to make sure you didn't get too lost. Though A'gon spent the whole time complaining about his hangover." R'hin's reaching for her hand, before she can take hold of the fruit. He drops a bit of cloth into the palm of her hand: Savannah's wing badge. "Luckily for you, we don't do early morning starts -- just as long as you show up to the wing meeting brunch." A'gon. K'son. She'll have to remember both of those; as it is, Tela gives him a dry look and says, "You know I can't eat that." But that doesn't mean he's going to get the badge back, not the way her hand closes around it. "Brunch, now, that I like... Nita?" Stop telling the stories, "Come eat," and drained though she is, she summons a brilliant smile for the others as well. Her, their, wingmates. Imagine. With a pat for that hand, R'hin's gesturing for Nita to take his place beside Telavi, where hair-of-the-dog is certainly on the menu. The stories don't stop; there's more, similar stories about A'gon's own initiation, and the time Stelli ended up falling into a sink hole, and more. This time, at least, the evening won't end in such a poor way; instead those other tents are suitable sleeping spots for those unable to form a proper visualization by the time their dragons return from their own day of adventure. |
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