Logs:Bollian Visitors
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| RL Date: 27 July, 2013 |
| Who: Ali, B'rant, Elaruth, Laurienth, Rhenth, Saverenth, Isyath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A pair of sweepriders return from Southern Boll with news of unknown dragons. Ali sends B'rant to High Reaches with a mission. |
| Where: Solarium, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 5, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions |
| To Fort dragons, Saverenth appears above the Weyr, practically bursting with energy. This isn't exactly unusual for the Carnelian wingsecond, but, « Guess what I saw! » She's loud. Annoyingly so. She has stuff to tell and it's super exciting! Oh, sweet Faranth, /why/? There's a weariness to Laurienth's mental touch the second she blinks in after Saverenth, because she has had /hours/ of this loud-annoying-super-exciting. « Only /you/ could find that exciting, » she drawls with a twang, broadcasting her putdown to any and all who'll listen. « How many guesses do they get? » (To Fort dragons from Laurienth) Ever circling, Isyath warmly welcomes Saverenth and Laurienth home, and while there's a quizzical little trail of stars for the pair of greens, she doesn't seem /overly/ interested. Especially not when it's a game she could lose in front of /everyone/. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) « Two. No wait, three. » Saverenth is well, given to change her mind! « Of course it's exciting! How can you not think it's exciting? » /She's/ practically brimming with impatience for someone to try and pick it. « Go on, guess! » (To Fort dragons from Saverenth) To Fort dragons, Elaruth doesn't not appreciate /loud/, but she appreciates stories, and since there must be a story somewhere in that proposed guessing game, her gentle touch with its cool, still waters reaches out to nudge gently at both of the returning greens. « Tell, » she encourages, though she's already cast a blanket of shielding mist up, pre-emptive protection against more /loud/. « Three. Seven. Ten. Four! » There's mileage yet to be had in the mocking of her sweeps (sweeps; favours owed and all) partner, and Laurienth is unwilling to let up in doing so just yet. « Paranoia is just your colour, » she tells Saverenth. « She /sees/ things, you know. » (To Fort dragons from Laurienth) « I can't tell - that's not the game, » Saverenth practically /frowns/ (if one can mentally do such) at Elaruth, then seems to consider. « Let's give them a hint, Laurienth. » There's a splash of ocean water, and the rising heights of Southern Boll briefly flashed in her thoughts. Her enthusiasm seems undaunted by Laurienth's doubts. « I /saw/ them. » A moment's pause: « Oops. Okay, two clues then. » (To Fort dragons from Saverenth) This, finally, stirs Isyath to actual words, her starry thoughts drifting down somewhere between the pair of greens, sparking with bright, sudden curiosity. « Saw who? » She's not playing the game. Honest. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) « She can't count either... » Laurienth is all weary despair, her mental voice growing more gravelly by the second. Doesn't anyone understand what she's been through? « Unmarked things were they shouldn't be, » she shares, to back up Saverenth's 'clues'. See how much better at riddles she is? « And us they would not see. » And rhyming! (To Fort dragons from Laurienth) To Fort dragons, Saverenth is impatient at waiting, to judge by her snort. « It /is/ bigger than a breadbox, » she answers a blue's quick question, with another impatient wiggle. « Come on, it's /easy/. » At least when you know the answer. « I can't answer /who/, that's cheating. /And/ that counts as a guess. Are you ready? » She's practically quivering. Pause. /Dramatic/ pause! « Sneaky dragons. Sneak-sy. » There's an image of- well, six dragons that are somehow dressed in black clothing slinking around the fireheights of Southern Boll. Nevermind the sizes are all wrong and the dragons are practically minature compared to the Hold. It's been a rainy sort of day, but a light enough rain that it hasn't stopped Isyath taking up her circling post in the Weyr's skies. In the solarium, the roof remains open, and the light rain can be seen splattering against the colored glass. The hearths are going, keeping off a slight spring chill. Ali's settled on one of the couches, feet tucked under her and a pile of hides in her lap. They're starting to slide off, but she hasn't noticed, since she's just closed her eyes. Just for a moment. That's totally not a snore there, where her head is cradled against the palm of her hand, either. It's her turn, it's her turn, it's /her/ turn! In contrast, Laurienth takes the created image and brightens the hue of dragons' hides to painfully luminous levels. « They were /obvious/, » she drawls with another low thrum. « And /rude/. » This, from /Laurienth/? « They would not speak to us. » (To Fort dragons from Laurienth) Oh, right. Yeah. That's practically a dismissive snort from Isyath. Baby dragons crawling all over a Hold? Dark or light, they're suddenly uninteresting. (Nevermind she's slightly disgruntled for not having been able to guess correctly.) (To Fort dragons from Isyath) « Of course they wouldn't speak to us. They were being incontin- incons- they were trying to hide! » Saverenth perhaps doesn't appreciate Laurienth's adjustments, but she doesn't change it back. She does, however, with a little nudge, create herself and Laurienth (in her mind, /she's/ much bigger and somehow faster than Laurienth), but by the time they reach the tiny-now-luminous dragons, they quickly vanish between. (To Fort dragons from Saverenth) Missing the sun and warmth he'd typically find at his youthful home this time of Turn, B'rant strides into the solarium to get what he needs, after sending Rhenth off to the lake. While the big bronze pays attention to one of the Weyr's seemingly endless supply of glowy greens as he paddles around, his human half remains quiet, even upon noticing the head-cradling Ali. Letting the tired woman be, he simply strides around near-silently, giving the occasional scratch to his healing head - the hair there quite short, and a wheat-blond that stands out against darker blond tresses - and a faint grimace to something or other unseen. A little less dismissive, Elaruth gently turns both images this way and that, stashing copies away for further study later, if either green's recounting is at all accurate. It's all in the details. « Be sure to have your riders complete a report, » she requests in a murmur, then she's retreating back to a world that has become much smaller in recent months, her focus primarily on her rider and the newborn in the weyr. (To Fort dragons from Elaruth) He's a bit busy right now (look at that pretty green)...but Rhenth's never /so/ busy as to not be able to croon a very pleased-indeed greeting to Elaruth. « We are very glad you're both feeling better. » His basso rumble is easy and honest, though slightly distracted. (To Fort dragons from Rhenth) Ali wakes, abruptly- not from B'rant's arrival, but something else that makes her crease her forehead. "Issy, why are you- what's-?" the junior shakes her head, visibly confused by whatever answers she's given. She's starting to release a breath when she catches sight of B'rant's pacing form, chewing her lower lip for a moment. "B'rant?" she calls, softly. To Fort dragons, Laurienth lets Saverenth have that one, perhaps for comedic effect. Or maybe it's a freebie. « Rude, » she repeats, of those who wouldn't talk to them. « I do not like that place. » And then, just like Elaruth, she has babies of her own to check on and turn her attention to, her presence over the Weyr shorting out in a shower of sharp little electrical sparks. He figured she'd wake sooner or later, given the hints of far-sweeping draconic conversation hinted at by Rhenth, so when Ali perks, the weyrling turns back to her, slowly paces over with a quiet smile. "Yes'um..." his light baritone notes. "Something up?" To Fort dragons, Isyath is definitely not playing this game anymore. She never /was/, honest. She's far less interested in the recounting than Elaruth (though some of that aloofness is likely staged- there's a hint of starry interest lingering), before she lets the sense of air-beneath-wings surge upwards in her thoughts again. "I was going to ask you the same thing," Ali says, smiling, stretching out a hand towards him with the intention of drawing him down onto the couch next to her. "Issy woke me-" but she trails off, as if not sure /why/. Reports? Reports are so /dull/. But /she/ doesn't have to do them, at least. « It is nice and warm, » she says, of Boll, a shade defensively. « We will go back later and make sure the sneaksy dragons haven't come back. » (To Fort dragons from Saverenth) Lifting one of his own, larger, yet sensitive hands to meet her offer of one, B'rant allows himself to be drawn down into a seat on that couch, the weyrling then giving another faint grimace, and rubbing absently at one of his calves with his free hand. Casually, he lets Ali know, "I think they're talking about some dragony-subject. Rhenth was speaking with Elaruth... that's what it felt like, anyhow." Shrug. "How are you and Issy?" Gray eyes warm some when inquiring of the pair. With a slight squeeze of his fingers, Ali releases B'rant's hand, shifting a little to be able to see him better, though this dislodges more of those hides from her lap and she snatches out a hand, managing to rescue most (but not all) of the hides from sliding onto his side of the couch, or onto the floor. Rather than frustration, it just earns a sigh. "Tired," she admits, with an honesty that suggests it's not the rote answer she gives most people. "Issy's- happy though. Not at the moment," with a slight shake of her head, "But-" his words sink in as she stops, abruptly. "Elaruth- Hattie's okay?" she straightens, abruptly, visibly alarmed. He immediately jerks his now freed pair of hands out to catch up whatever hides try to skitter to the floor, B'rant managing to catch most of them, then bending over to scoop up the rest. "Is there something I can do for you?" is noted quietly in regards to Ali's admission of tiredness, a faint smile touching his mouth at word of Isyath. "She's flying... how couldn't she be?" And then the young man sits up straight again to quickly offer up to the woman, "Yes-yes; she's fine. Rhenth says Elaruth's just talking with some other dragons. He's glad Hattie and she are stronger." He's not going to mention that, after his bronze's greeting to his dam, Rhenth went right back to trying his young hand at romancing that green. Ali's relief is palpable at B'rant's reassurance, exhaling slowly, though the worry lingers in her gaze all the same. There's a grateful murmur as she tries to stack the hides back together- a slight furrow of brow bespeaking consternation at the out-of-orderedness of them. "Rhenth's looking to her; I'm glad." She's oblivious to whatever Rhenth's doing /now/, that much is clear from her easing expression and the smile she bestows on him at his question. "No, I- it's just nice to have someone to talk to that I- I don't feel like the weyrwoman around you." Which, in the dark-haired woman's mind is definitely a good thing. "Saverenth-?" abruptly, her brow's furrowed, gaze distant. "He does, more often than not, since Hattie took ill..." B'rant murmurs in return, the youth taking in a sudden, slow, deep lung-ful of the solarium's kinder air, then letting it out with a just as slow exhale. Mm, good /open/ air. A look is cast over to Ali from the corners of his eyes - touched with some wry humor and easy pleasure taken in her words - the youthful bronzer then noting with just a tiny edge to his voice, "I'm glad /you/ feel that way." The emphasis is light. A quirk of head to that inquiry of the dragon name has B'rant lifting his shoulders. "A wingsecond's dragon, Rhenth says." "Something about a- dragons that are not ours at Southern Boll?" Ali shakes her head, as if unsure, or unsettled- likely both. "High Reaches wouldn't-" her mouth snaps shut abruptly, although there's a bit of color to her cheeks, her gaze downward. Definitely ill-at-ease, now- glancing towards the exit briefly, then down to her lap. Only after an awkward pause does her gaze lift to ask B'rant, "Have you flown with Carnelian yet? What did you think of Ysmila and Saverenth?" B'rant looks perplexed and highly interested at once with Ali's words, the young man noting very dryly, "Rhenth is too busy charming the sails off a green right now to bother with much more than wing position." A small eyeroll for his growing lifemate's sudden predilictions leads into a cautious, "It's not like Boll's off limits to any dragons except Fortian ones." A small, judicious nod is given to the goldrider's inquiry, the youth then mulling over the next one some before replying, "I just don't know much about them, beyond how they function in their Wing." Sorry. The dry words earn a pause, and then a rueful, acknowledging smile from Ali. "Has he- has he chased yet?" she asks, hesitantly, like she's unsure how the question will be taken, or maybe of the answer. With a slowly released breath, she sets the stack of hides over on her other side, twisting to lean a shoulder against the couch and better see B'rant. "No, it's not but- it's unusual for dragons not to acknowledge others. And- Boll looked to High Reaches for support, before. We can't afford to lose them- /again/. Now, especially." B'rant might be - have /been/ - a Holder, but sometimes, certain aspects of Weyr life just agree with a person...and this is one of them, for him. So there's only a minor lip-twitch when Ali asks that, B'rant then smoothly answering, "Not yet...but if his actions are indicitive of anything..." 'Then soon' goes unspoken. "I was rather hoping he'd wait a little longer, but..." Shrug. After listening to the woman speak of silent dragons and Boll, he can only come up with a low, "Why would 'Reaches want to take back Boll?" Does he need sympathy? Ali isn't sure, but then, she was a holder and that's likely why her hand stretches out for his upper arm, lingering there briefly. "I hope it- goes well then. However it turns out." There might be a little relief in her own expression, for how little she has to face that particular part of Weyr life. It's the latter question though that makes her hesitate, dropping hand back on top of the hides. "I- I hear they had trouble with High Reaches Hold. I'm not sure what, just that their tithe was short for something. When your- when a Weyr depends on you, you do anything to help them." It's said with a weight that's unusual in the junior's voice. "So do I..." B'rant notes with a little hesitation. Not all greenriders are female, after all. And then there's other things for the youthful bronzer to cogitate over with Ali's next words, the gray of his eyes turning cooler, lighter, the teen's mouth turning down a little at its corners. "This...could be more than serious, if it's true..." For once, Ali does notice B'rant's hesitation, and it makes her pause, chewing her lower lip as she watches him. "You don't mind, during- it's after-" she exhales briefly. "If you need someone to talk to-" that, too, is hesitant, and she's keen to move onto other subjects. "I'm sure it's not, though," the weyrwoman says, quickly. "They wouldn't- I mean, I don't think they would damage that relationship again. But I don't-" she sounds strained, unsure. He's all would-have-been Heir when replying to Ali's offer, B'rant smooth, suave, balanced...on the outside, anyway. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Ali. I'll remember your offer. Thank you." A winning smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand are given, the young man then giving a soft sigh, and making a moue of his lips for a moment. Again, thinking. "But how can we be sure, eh?" Headshake. A softly murmured acknowledgement is given, but Ali doesn't return the smile, distractedly concerned, now. "We can't, but- I can ask E'dre to increase the sweeps around the Hold, just in case. And I can- ask someone quietly who- should know." She glances upwards, maybe a faint trace of shadow passing over the glass roof just as she does. "But it's hard to get away. I- can't, really." Nodding a few times to what Ali has to say, B'rant leans in just a little towards the woman, rendering his next words unhearable by anyone other than the gold rider. "You're much too high-profile to do such work. Weyrlings, however... We're barely noticable, especially given all the deliveries we're still making." There's his smile again. Ali goes still as B'rant leans in, fingers folding together, frowning. "I-" she obviously doesn't like the idea, initially, but she goes quiet long enough to consider it with a sharper look at B'rant, now. "If you cause an incident-!" her low-voiced warning is really not very intimidating at all, and is immediate indication of her agreement, even if it's not spoken directly. There's a gentle pat at the air, and a rather bright grin for that warning. "I promise not to cause anything but heads to turn, my good weyrwoman," B'rant notes, then placing one hand over his heart. "All I'll do is listen, look." For now. "I think I should get there quickly, especially since there's a message I have to deliver post-haste." Cue his meaningful look at Ali. A message that /she/ can either supply or fix so that /he's/ the one to deliver it. "You'd better not," Ali's not great at motherly growl of displeasure, but she /tries/. Her expression eases, into something more Ali-like - worried and uncertain, chewing her lip. "Make sure Rhenth keeps in touch with Issy, if you would, just in- in case." And it's not until after that particular promise is extracted that she'll reach for one of the hides. "Go and get your flight gear. I'll have something written for you by the time you're ready to go." "Lord's honor..." B'rant answers with both dark humor and heady wryness, the tall young man trying to look meek, and failing. A quick and far-away look returns his gray gaze to Ali's, and the weyrling notes, "Rhenth says we both promise. So...we do." Grin. "Yes ma'am!" With quick stand and snapped salute, the bronzer is striding off to don all that gear upon himself and Rhenth, then meeting up with Ali once again wherever she sees fit to offer him that missive. And then it's off to sp...er, deliver! To Rhenth, Isyath soars past Rhenth as he lifts up into the sky and flicks between. There's a moment of silence to allow him to arrive safely, then a distant sense of Fort's rainy skies accompany the tiny sparkling of stars; letting him know that home is but a breath away, and she is here. |
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