Logs:A little jealous?
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| RL Date: 26 March, 2011 |
| Who: Rielsath, Iskiveth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Talk of Thread as two queens are acquainted. |
| When: Day 25, Month 4, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
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| Rielsath reaches her consciousness across the bowl in the afternoon haze, a ray of sunshine under a clouded springtime sky. The soft beam scans curiously, until it finds someone to talk to, settling politely onto Iskiveth. « Hey, » The wintry gold greets the younger queen with a friendly spark, as if they've known each other since weyrlinghood. « Someone told me you've got windchimes. Is it true? » Her words glitter with sunlight off of metal, imagining. An actual answer doesn't come right away. Instead a heated rush like wind over an open fire blows over the other queen's consciousness. Then, « Of /course/ it's true. » There's the impression that she thinks it's a silly question. « But they aren't all up right now. » A very skilled imaginer indeed, Iskiveth offers Rielsath a peek. Each of the metal poles staked into her ledge fixed up with arms from which the windchimes hang from, all perhaps a little more shiny and jeweled in her imagination than they actually are when they're up. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath lets the fiery wind blow over her, undaunted. She's just spent five turns in Igen, after all. « Lots of people just say things to say 'em. They could have fancied you kept a wherry coop up there. » Now /that's/ a tempting idea, but she doesn't linger on it. Her silence is a little bit jealous, but more appreciative as she adds sparkle to each gem, a line of reflecting light along each hollow tube. « Your idea, right? We have all the best ideas. » « A wherry coop would be... » Iskiveth has to pause to give that a moment's more of thought. « I wouldn't want wherries taking up valuable space, » she decides. Less places to keep her treasures if there's animals in the way, after all. The pointy queen doesn't even hesitate when when says, « Of course it was my idea. » Never mind that Szadath was the first to give her windchimes. It's possible she doesn't even remember that. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath projects, « No feeding ground hassle, » Rielsath reasons, « But others might take them without asking. It's true, » She echoes Iskiveth's possessive tone, but her mind drifts to daydreaming as a cloud passes over the sun. « It would give Lujayn something to do. We are terribly bored sometimes. » A huff of sunshine specks, clearing dirt and dust from the unused weyr they now claim. « Especially after making /our/ weyr pretty. » See, Iskiveth isn't the only one to boast. « I enjoy chasing my meals, » says Iskiveth, enthusiastically more than contrarily. « It's as though you were in a battle! And then they retreat so you must chase them and kill all of them before they can escape. » There's a pause there, then she admits, « Although you can only kill one or two of them or there won't be anymore to chase. » It's probably something she's been told many a time. « Oh? » Quite curious even if she's trying not to be overly so. « You haven't had much time. » So it can't be quite so nice as her weyr. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath projects, « We work quickly. And we have friends who wanted to help. » The 'we' is emphasized - though she doesn't quite fit in the human-sized bits, the gold had quite a say in decorations. « I heard.. Elaruth says, there are not so many to eat at Fort. I am glad to be here and not there. » That's brief, however, as Iskiveth's thoughts turn to battle, much more intriguing and delightful. « Have you been in a battle? » Asking more pointedly, mysterious silver wisps playing at the edge of her mindvoice. « Well, » she begins, the fire of her consciousness a dull crackle of smoking wood, « I suppose not a /real/ battle. » For that the pointy young queen sounds terribly disappointed. « Szadath and I practice, though, sometimes. Just in case. » Or because it's fun. « We also hunt for treasure sometimes. He founds eggs last time. But they weren't firelizards. » Again disappointment. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath considers the images « Like a game. I like to play those.. » But her enthusiasm is tempered with something more to entice the younger gold. « I have been in a /real/ battle. » It's not boastful in the least, more serious; the memory is faded and covered with layers of scar tissue, but it IS there. Suspicion is Iskiveth's first impulse. How could this other gold have been in /real/ battles when she hasn't managed them herself? « What /sort/ of battle? Did you kill your enemies? » Clearly she won since she's talking about it now. Whatever the case, the older queen certainly has Iskiveth's full attention now. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath speaks more dynamically than before now that she has an audience, beginning to spin a real tale for Iskiveth's enjoyment. « A battle for life and death, » She begins, parting the clouds overhead to reveal a deadly silver rain. « We killed them with flame, tracked down their burrows in the earth to make sure they did not spread. Every grown dragon of the Weyr rose against this enemy, one I think you must have heard of, » She pauses, her next word spat with malice and ferocity. « Thread. » It's a mixture of awe and jealousy that plagues Iskiveth in the wake of that one word. « Oh, I wish I had been able to battle Thread! » There's a certain sense of bloodthirsty longing in her voice. « We would have been very good at it! But it would be better if we could flame. It's not fair that we cannot. » Perhaps a bit easily distracted. « Do you have scars? » (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Returning the young gold's questions with patience, flickering candlelight streaming down from some invisible chandelier spotlighting their conversation. « We are very important, even though we can't flame. Our riders make the flame, and that makes them priceless. » There's definite pride in her voice for Lujayn. « We have to know where to take them if they are to succeed. When the upper wings miss their target, we are the ones that are able to come to the rescue. » Description and embellishment comes easily to the wintry gold despite the rougher conversational speech that is more common to her. « We are not just egg mothers. » She snorts. « We are so much more. Even when we are scarred, we are more. » A silent, sideways answer to the last question. « We practice drills for this very reason, to be ready. Always to be ready to fight. » (Rielsath to Iskiveth) It's not something she really wants to accept. The young gold has always been more jealous than she ought to be about the fact that she's not quite the fighting dragon that all of the others are. And if there's any sentimentality about her offspring, it certainly isn't being shown right now. « You're lucky that you were able to fight. Life would be more interesting if there were Thread still. But I do practice! Teris doesn't care to so much but I enjoy it very much. » It's one thing she can be proud of, at least. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) Rielsath agrees wholeheartedly, embers waking to glow ominously from their ashes. « I was lucky. Lucky to survive. » Listening to Iskiveth's frustration, she adds, « Lucky to have Lujayn alive. Even if your rider doesn't care for it, you may practice on your own. » Should she continue? Rielsath presses on, not one to censor her thoughts too much. « I have seen, sometimes, your group at work. You look like you get more practice than they do, too. » Whether it was intentional or not, the compliment (at least what she takes as a compliment) makes her preen happily and proudly. « Sometimes I think, perhaps, that it would be good for the wings if /we/ led them instead of the others. » That 'we' must mean the golds of the Weyr even if Rielsath has only returned recently. But this is about where Iskiveth's attention starts to wander, fire snapping at a brown sunning himself on a ledge close enough for her to notice. (Iskiveth to Rielsath) « We lead all the time, whether they know it or not, » Rielsath shares more quietly, in secret. « But I love Lujayn. I would not cast her aside, even if it meant being in charge. » She senses Iskiveth's waning attention and begins to withdraw, candles blowing out one by one, the embers fizzling into cold ash. « We are part of it all. » And then she is gone, letting the distracted gold concentrate on that brown of hers. (Rielsath to Iskiveth) |
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