Logs:A Wreck Wrecked
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 26 May, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Day 23, Month 11, Turn 34 |
| Where: Coastline off Tillek Hold |
| When: Day 23, Month 11, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
    |
| The wind blows in gray and stinging over the ragged stretch of coastline, distant from anywhere inhabited despite Interval's encroachment; rain drives against the men and women-- mostly men-- who work along the shore with their hooded heads down, who wade thigh-deep into the surf, who maneuver the rowboats hurried here by netting and dragon claws. With the receding storm's remaining gusts still too strong for the solitary, light-boned dragon to have fine control, she must settle for carrying two more men behind her rider, those with the best aim with ropes and grappling hooks to curtail the floating wreckage before the turning tide sweeps it all back out; while it isn't spread widely enough that many more dragons will do more good, when she senses a potential reinforcement's relative nearness, Solith calls, « Come! » Lythronath's nearness. « Come here? Be strong! » It's cold, flying out over choppy seas. What's worse, it's boring, when everyone's turned for harbour, probably reached it, when everyone else is smart enough not to venture out at all. But A'rist has been pushing, and Lythronath's mind is as focus-hard as it is cold when he butts it up against Solith's. « Always strong. » A heavier pressure as he looks for something more interesting than grey water and grey skies and grey attention. If he's hoping for red, it's only a glimmer, not fully-formed into a word. Too cold, too hard; what might have been a reply gives way enough that one might fall right through. She's busy, and there's no real red here, except perhaps for a sodden might-be blanket snagged on part of the wrack; humans' wind-chapped cheeks and noses are so washed out by comparison. Her wings, generally gilt-green from height's vantage, are greyed by the light though they aren't grey. Metal whistles past her paw, scrapes against wood. This time the hook catches, holds, and sings taut; a weight settles between her shoulders. She pulls, at an angle from the tide. Beyond, more boards are already loosening, threatening to float onward. Lythronath is disappointed. But Lythronath is coming. There was no feel on the link of his processing the information, of A'rist's involvement, although the rider was certainly involved in the decision-making. Soon, he's a speck. Soon, he's bigger. Soon, he's there, flying much too near Solith, only barely keeping out of her way, a powerhouse of bronze who's double-checking for blood. Or anything interesting. A'rist, he's watching the dragon and her rider much more closely. He's-- they're-- greeted by a tangential warble that isn't anything like light, by Telavi twisting to look up with her own eyes before returning her attention to the scene below. It might be safer for the scuttling humans if Lythronath isn't interested in them; as it is, the much smaller dragon sends, « Can you get it to shore? » Is he that strong, to move the waterlogged hulk with teeth or claws? She doesn't also say, Be careful, they want it intact. What she says is, and perhaps it's Telavi's influence at work, « Would you not bite it hard? It might hurt your mouth. » Splinters, human-sized splinters, aren't the sort of thing she'd imagine the bronze's gums would be happy to have as a haven; nor would they feel good wedged up under his talons, she's quite sure of that. A'rist is tuned in now, enough that, if he's not heard Solith's words exactly, he's at least heard the echoes of Lythronath's reaction. It makes him roll his eyes, at least partway - then he's busy melding. They circle, eyeing up the wreckage, planning. It's during the latter phase that Lythronath lets out a bellow of a roar. Is there delight, at the way those little humans move around? There's certainly a bite, harder than Solith's suggestion. It all starts sinking, Lythronath almost starts sinking... Stay clear of those wings, that thrashing tail, that bulging neck. A'rist was surely not planning to stay dry. Of course it would have to be sinking. Solith's certainly staying clear, and really, it was so helpful of him to provide the extra adrenaline for towing her part of the wreck the rest of the way to shore; meanwhile, Telavi calls back to her passengers, "Hang on! He's... trying to help," part of which may be an untruth. Guess which! Well, it's possible Lythronath was pushing a little bit, when he grabbed hold. It's possible that he's figured it out, in that moment just after it's started to resurface, and then goes down again. « Hahaha! » Run, tiny humans. It's probably good that A'rist's face can't be seen, for the changes it goes through before he finds determination. Before Lythronath starts behaving himself. And starts helping. The laughter is gone, though. Great, just great. Telavi doesn't even bother with more attempts at explaining, settling for shuffling her shaken passengers off Solith and onto the ground, and not off this mortal coil. She has other things to deal with, getting the tow ropes unfastened from Solith's straps, making sure that the one scared fisherman either didn't really break his arm when he fell out of the boat-- he'll be razzed for that one for Turns, though when he tells the story, Lythronath may be even bigger than he is now and fire-breathing to boot-- or if he did, they don't actually need her help to get him to a healer. There's plenty for the bronze to haul meanwhile; it must have been a substantial ship, once upon a time, but a plain one, nothing that looks like it held fancy cargo. On the other hand, a ship that had once held fancy cargo probably wouldn't want to look like it does... He's lucky there's no firestone anywhere nearby, or Lythronath probably would be breathing fire. Instead, he's hauling, pulling, and occasionally applying a little weight to sink (or, oh look at that, splinter off) parts of the wreckage. One piece in, he moves for the next. This one, he can lift. This one, he takes up higher as he moves toward the beach. A'rist manages to get him down a little bit, but still not so much that it's not clearly dropped, rather than towed ashore. « Hahaha! » Isn't Solith glad she asked him to help? Solith may be troubled, perceptible in more than the muddier swirl of her eyes, but it's Telavi who's so not looking. Solith is peeking. It's begun to look fun in its way; if only Tela weren't bothered! Tela is saying her goodbyes and hastily preparing to, as it were, abandon ship. If some of those boards look suspiciously hewn in spots despite their time in the water... will they even be able to tell now that Lythronath has had his turn? What they'll be able to tell, without question, is that Lythronath Was Here. It's enough for the bronze. Even when his rider seems to be asserting a little more control, there's only so much that the dragon can vary from his style. Another board splinters. Combing the water for debris is becoming a game, albeit not a very fun one. « More ships. » It's a demand, as much as a suggestion. Solith may glance at the rowboats, but hastily her attention's diverted, Telavi's expression tense; « Out there, » she says instead, casting an arc of mental light towards the open ocean, farther than even dragon eyes can see. Though, perhaps, Lythronath can see further yet. "No," says A'rist. Lythronath is looking, though. Wishing. And hoping. And thinking... "Is there more?" shouts bronzerider to the greenrider, as if she could hear him. A'rist's bronze does little to help with the projection; he's circling now, circling bored, scanning the waters, though last bits of flotsam and jetsam don't seem to grab his interest at all. What? Telavi cups her ear, eyebrows lifted like a would-be pair of semaphore flags; then she fastens the last buckle and-- after an initial slow wingsweep that warns the sailors to not run back into range this time-- Solith takes flight. It's midair that she darts nearer, daringly; Tela waves the all-clear followed by an equally exaggerated shrug: anything else to add? If not, they can go. Whatever it is Lythronath would like to add, it's kept bottled up. A'rist's face has set into that grim and focused one. They go. |
Leave A Comment