Logs:Cailluneth Caught
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| RL Date: 25 March, 2013 |
| Who: N'ky, Cailluneth, Azaylia, Hraedhyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'ky takes Cailluneth hunting in the lower caverns. Mama Hrae does not approve. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 4, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: D'kan/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: This is a backdated scene played through googledocs. It takes place three days after Kazavoth kills his first wherry. |
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| Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night. The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze. A promise was made to a certain green dragon, that, until now, has been unable to be fulfilled- but she hasn't forgotten. With Kazavoth making his first kill, Cailluneth's memory is refreshed once more, and relentless persuasion has N'ky leading her across the bowl in the dead of night, sticking to the shadows and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Sneaking through the living caverns is easy enough since the massive room's deserted; slipping past a small group in the tunnels leading to the residents' area slightly less so. Still, the weyrling pair manage to make it, uncaught, to their intended destination in the deeper, darker parts of the tunnel network that makes up the Weyr's rarer-used lower caverns. N'ky has a vague understanding of the lay of the tunnels, and knows roughly where to go by following the footprints left on the dusty ground. He leads them deeper, holding his glowbasket high, tuned into Cailluneth's senses to drown out his own nerves - because he's breaking the rules, isn't he? Or is he? When concern starts to overwhelm him, Cailluneth reaches out to him with golden courage. Filled with her glow, they continue, until... «There.» Keen hearing picks up the scittering of tunnelsnake on stone, and concentrated moonlight is blow up to supernova brightness as Cailluneth's mind fills with unbridled eagerness. The green leaps forward while N'ky stays stock still, holding the glowbasket high to be sure he can watch Cailluneth as she leaps, pounces, misses, but scrabbles for hold on the stone and comes back again. A swipe of her paw knocks the tunnelsnake against the tunnel wall with a dull 'thwack'; stunned and still, it loses its appeal. There are more further down the tunnel though, and Cailluneth slinks along with a huntress' grace, body low to the ground as she tracks her quarry, pouncing, swiping, killing when she finds it. Over and over, with each kill followed by an excited rasping warble, and an explosion of excited colour-thought - pounding crystalline heartbeats, resonating with the red of death. Hraedhyth's lullaby begins to dwindle only after most of those spirited minds have quieted. Some keep to odd hours, and for them her drums are a rhythmic 'good morning'. But even warriors needs sleep and it is during her slumber that the green's eager energy skirts the outer territories of the queen's mind. Slowed drums skip a beat, twitch meant to shake off the iridescent joy of Cailluneth, of her hunt. Cailluneth? Hunt? Realization slams the queen into consciousness, startling her into giving a sudden, low snarl. « What are you doing. » Not a question, not quite, and yet she expects an answer. Demands it. Searing heat fades, blood-red ensnared by startled grey, uncertain celadon, eggshell - crushable, pale, a throwback to the Sands and her tie to Hraedhyth - cooling her mind... then the flare-up of fire again as Cailluneth openly shares the pounce, capture and kill of another tunnelsnake. No words needed to describe the thrill of it, the pride of the kill, the sheer glee that shimmers like stardust between her and her dam. This is what she's doing. This is what she was made to do - no matter that her prey is mere vermin, not food. N'ky holds the glowbasket, looking back over his shoulder as Cailluneth ensnares another little beastie. He's got no love for the pests, but the trail of dead (or stunned, in the case of one or two left dazed after being flung at the walls) tunnelsnakes they're leaving behind them kind of bothers him. So he tries tuning it out, picking up on his lifemate's bliss, riding on her higher emotions and following her deeper into the tunnels. He's unaware of Hraedhyth's demand, conscious only of the bond with his own dragon. Flames grow hotter, thick black plumes a billowing smoke screen to keep the full force of Hraedhyth's fury at bay. « What. » Drums give a pointed thump, quickening as a thought occurs, « Arekoth is not with you? » After the incident with Kazavoth, it's not an unreasonable assumption. Cailluneth is given only a moment longer to revel in the thrill of the hunt before dam's jaws tighten on her scruff, « Where. Are. You. » Mental touch may seem very real, a silent command surging through their link. The green will stop before she goes and injures herself. A crackle of hot blame: And just where is Cailluneth's rider during all of this? The sudden stock-stillness of his lifemate surprises N'ky - so much so that he nearly steps on her tail. She drops the tunnelsnake in her maw, letting another scuttle away to freedom. What's wrong? He doesn't understand the whirl of heated red and brown at first, but the flames, smoke and drums projected by Cailluneth soon make sense: Hraedhyth. Worried, he looks behind him, along the path they've just taken and which suddenly seems unfamiliar in the panic of getting caught; exactly how deep have they come? The glowbasket is set down so he can curl his hands around his lifemate's dainty head, tilting her gaze up to meet his and trying to understand what she's thinking while he soothes her with gentle fingers. Darkness suddenly clouds over the green's typical colours, glowlight showing stone, tunnels, the impression of closed-in space and slithering tunnelsnakes, a trail of them marking the way with their death-limp bodies. No-one here but Cailluneth and her golden-pink N'ky, whose soothing touch is carried hopefully to Hraedhyth. It's a picture far clearer than she usually paints, a rendition of fact, a clear statement of their location. No Arekoth; these tunnels are too small for the brown Cailluneth paints in a reverent light. Lingering after, a quiet thought in a puff of dove-grey smoke, the question of what she's done wrong. Hraedhyth's exhale is of relief, though she offers none from that choking smoke and furious fire.. « Stay. » Command is gritted through frustrated jaws that keep a tight hold on the green's scruff, relying more on her authority as dam than queen's influence. It's there, though, thin golden tendrils dancing in her flames which burn hotter as the moments pass. « Stay. » A steady reprise in her otherwise wordless drums, repeated as she sees fit as the hunter becomes the hunted. As for her crime? « You disobeyed me. » Deliberately. N'ky and his lifemate will have to 'stay' for some time, though through no fault of Cailluneth's shared image. In fact, it's quite good for a dragon her age. It's difficult to tell one stone wall from another, and it isn't until Azaylia comes upon the first few stunned and maimed 'snakes that her stride gains some confidence. Bare feet slap audibly against the ground as she runs, sound occasionally broken as the young woman dodges one of Cailluneth's recovering victims. "N'ky?" Even her airy voice sounds loud in the empty tunnels, face lit by the glow basket she holds in front of herself. "N'ky." Repeated on a sigh as she stops stopping a foot or so away, gaze dropping to the dragon. "Is she hurt?" Hraedhyth doesn't seem to be the only one caught by surprise so late, the weyrwoman clutching her robe closed despite it being firmly tied at waist. At least she has enough sense to have thrown on her cloak to combat the chill of early spring. Mentally limp, like a pup hanging from her mother's jaws, Cailluneth's colours are faded; apologetic blue-grey, a hint of her dam's smoke, unspoken silver sorries and cool moonlight, reaching towards Hraedhyth's fire. An attempt to calm, perhaps? A hope of reasoning peeps through, a speck of starlight in a mental landscape that now echoes the night sky; this was fun. An image of Kazavoth with his wherry, swirled in hot reds and oranges, burning bright. A sense of 'if he can, I can' - the wherry replaced with a tunnelsnake, brown dragonet with herself. « I am too small, » she says, calling upon rare words. « My heart does not want me hurting. » And so, the imagery suggests, they are here. Of course, N'ky knows by now what's happening - and he panics. Knowing he's been caught whether they've actually been seen or not, he hovers anxiously in the tunnel, kicking a tunnelsnake carcass out of the way so he can sink down onto his butt, drawing Cailluneth towards him. She lies between his crooked legs, resting her head on his chest and draping her wings over his knees. For his part, the weyrling strokes his lifemate anxiously, trying to calm himself in order to keep her from getting too worked up. When he hears the sound of someone approaching he doesn't get up, but he does look, holding his glowbasket up to shed light on the tunnel leading towards them. At the sight of the weyrwoman his shoulders sink in remorse, teeth bitten into his bottom lip and eyes averted from her sleeping wear, pretty as it is. "Sh-she's - she's n-not h-h-hurt, ma'am, she's f-fine, she's f-f-fine, I d-didn't mean t-to c-cause.... c-cause trouble." Worry makes his stutter worse, and he looks to the whirling eyes of his lifemate, rubbing a soothing hand over her muzzle. "Sh-sh-shhh," he stammers to her when those eyes take on an orange glow, swirled through with red. Heat flares, stealing Hraedhyth's flames and forging a protective shield; a burning bastion for herself and N'ky. Cailluneth wriggles in the mental grasp, temper flaring in protective need as the worry of her lifemate passes through her to her dam. Dam's rumble is heard and felt through that link, words tainted with a low growl, « You are too small. » She agrees. There's a flare, flames burning that image of the baby brown to ash, « Kazavoth is too small. He was injured for it. » Does she want that? Hraedhyth's hold chafes as Cailluneth begins to wriggle, making no attempts to break through that protective heat while she keeps a firm hold. N'ky is worried? « Good. » It is not so cruel as that, « It would not do to have a rider who did not care. » As for the green's temper, it's allowed to take it's course despite the queen's quiet snarl. « Hush. » Even after N'ky's answer, Azaylia leans forward to cast the plump little green in her glow's light. Unfocused eyes sweep over Cailluneth's form, sharpening after Hraedhyth has confirmed that there are no injuries. "Oh, good." It doesn't look as though the weyrwoman is about to rain hellfire down upon the both of them, and even her queen's touch has turned from furious to firm. His aggravated stutter has her taking a step forward, concern causing brow to pinch. "N'ky, shh." Whisper attempting to soothe the weyrling in much the same way as his lifemate, "You didn't cause trouble. ...well." She glances at the messy tunnelsnakes, at the weyrling pair, a thoughtful gaze for her own interrupted evening, "So you caused trouble. What's important is that she isn't hurt-- N'ky, didn't you learn anything from what happened to Kazavoth? They're babies. They aren't ready to kill their own food yet." It is a scold, no doubt, but the woman is still speaking quietly and with none of her lifemate's heat behind those gentle words. She takes a few more steps towards them, stopping should Cailluneth feel as though she's a threat. Temper flares, temper fades; it's not long-lived as it's soothed from her, and Cailluneth is soon limp again in her dam's hold. The glowing bubble of protection remains, while she shows Hraedhyth that she has killed, and that she is uninjured, unlike the brother who shines rainbow-bright with her affection for him. As moonlight cool washes away the last of the fire, apology sets in; did she really get angry? A fluttery note of cornflower blue is caught upon mind's breeze, swept along towards her dam; another quiet apology. The edges of her silver take on a comforting bronze, warm and relaxing like well-brewed tea - the colour of Azaylia, nudging up against the bubble she holds around herself and her weyrling, tentatively held at bay but not forcefully so. Cailluneth's eyes turn purple on their way to blue, a dark, calm shade, and she rumble-growls to her weyrling; sorry. As she relaxes, N'ky does too - but only by a degree. He's still tense with teeth digging into his lip as he listens to Azaylia; his hands work over Cailluneth's sweetspots to soothe her further, with his brows low over his dark eyes in concentration and concern. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to speak - throat-clearing, swallowing, closed-eye concentration all precedes his first words as he tries to calm himself enough to put a dampener on his stutter. "She's n-not eating them, m-m-ma'am." There's an element of disgust in his tone -tunnelsnakes. Ew! "Sh-she's all... all hot. When she th-thinks about killing, she's e-excited, and she w-wants to so bad, b-but she's too s-small f-for wh-wherries - e-even Kazavoth was t-too small - and I c-couldn't b-buy her c-ch-chickens," he breathes in deeply, knotting his fingers into the choppily-cut hair at his crown. "N-no-one would miss t-tunnelsnakes. They w-won't h-hurt her... she's too c-clever, a-and it made her happy." His brown gaze turns hopefully to Azaylia, a tiny, crooked smile curving up one corner of his mouth. There's movement to the side of them as a stunned 'snake comes round - lightning-quick Cailluneth is free and pouncing on it, killing it cleanly then tossing it with a gleeful growl. It lands with a wet thud against the wall, hitting the ground with a similar sound while the green trots back to N'ky, curling up half-across, half-beside him again. Though Hraedhyth is still attempting to be stern, there's no hiding the thumping maternal pride carried by her drums. Her pup is responsible for so much carnage. The queen accepts the apology with no hesitation. Not that Cailluneth's anger is insignificant on its own, but when compared with her dam's... well. Jaws begin to release their hold, which proves to be a mistake as the green pounces and kills again. « CAILLUNETH. » Contralto devolves into a savage bark, this time using more of her influence to hold the dragonet still. Azaylia stays where she is, making no move to try and penetrate that bubble she's been informed of. "...I should have figured that out." About the green not eating the 'snakes, given the convenient trail of bodies she was able to follow. The weyrwoman listens with a calm expression, patience proven when she doesn't move to interrupt or hurry his stuttered explanation. Once he's done, "N'ky..." It seems as though she doesn't know where to begin, giving a startled squeak at Cailluneth's most recent pounce and kill. With a determined breath, "They might hurt her. They could. I'm not saying she's not clever or quick. Just that there are rules for a reason." It's almost a plea, the woman catching herself as her concern for the two bleed too much into her words. "I know you love her, N'ky, but it's bad to always give her what she wants. No matter how badly she wants it. What happens when she wants something that will definitely harm her, and you can't say no?" No doubt Hraedhyth's rider speaks from experience. Pride for her latest kill is stripped from her with the ferocity of her dam; Cailluneth's presence presses low, belly to ground, tail between her legs. Her moonlight is clouded over, dulled by smokiness borrowed from her dam, subdued and softened. Apologetic for breaking free, yes; but not for the kill. Questions rise, unformed and unasked - hesitant suggestions to something that she perhaps doesn't want an answer to. One, however, comes forth, unfurling from the cloudcover, silver-blue: « When? » When will it be ok? When can she hunt? When can she be proud of her kills? "I'm -- we're - sorry, m-ma'am." N'ky holds Cailluneth's head with his hands under her jaw, bringing her eyes to a level with his. Chastising her, perhaps, for pouncing on the tunnelsnake? Then he gently nudges his lifemate out of the way so he can get to his feet. Cai cleaves to his leg, stretching her neck out towards Azaylia to wuffle apologetically at her with soft, warm breath. "I d-don't want her to g-get hurt... e-ever." N'ky's shoulders slump as his gaze drops down to his chubby green, fingers reaching out for her, seeking comfort in touching her. "I j-just thought... maybe it w-would stop her... she's all... um..." His eyes scrunch closed and he pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking. "She th-thinks of hunting and she...sh-she makes me f-feel like I've got... g-got blood in my th-throat, in my mouth and it just..." The thought of it alone is enough to make his shoulders twitch as he gags, hand quickly covering his mouth. When he opens his eyes again they're glistening wet, and he scrubs under his nose, blushing deeply in embarrassment. "I th-thought maybe this would s-stop her th-thinking like that." Cailluneth croons, curling her tail protectively around his calves. Hraedhyth gives another snarl, flames reflected in bared, stained jaws that hover a second longer over the submitting pup. She does nothing to dampen Cailluneth's pride over the kill, for that is not the lesson she is trying to teach. « Always. » As for when she will be allowed to hunt? « It will feel like forever. » The gold remains alert, ready to snatch the green back up in an instant. Otherwise, Cailluneth will feel the hold relax once more, « But when your sitters allow, » Meaning Olveraeth and Isath, « Then you can hunt. » Smoke recedes just enough to reveal Hraedhyth's heart hearth, glowing with pride. « And it will be glorious. » Cailluneth's apology is understood and accepted, Azaylia reaching out with gentle fingers to caress the green's headknobs. "It's alright. I'm just glad you both are okay." She takes a few steps closer, hand leaving the green to reach up to rub at her weyrling's upper arm. "I'm... sorry that it's so hard on you." Forgive her if she looks a little sick at the description. The woman's lightly calloused touch is firm, but it makes the fact that she's shivering all the more obvious. It is only early spring, and the woman isn't wearing any shoes, among other things. "If anything, it probably encourages her. She needs to learn some restraint, N'ky. Your Weyrlingmasters might have some ideas... I'm sure she's not the first dragon who loved to hunt right out of the shell." There's a hint of nostalgia in her smile as she looks up at the weyrling. "I remember when Hraedhyth found out what hunting was. We built snowfolk for her to hunt and tackle." Not like they can really do that now. Forever becomes a vast stretch of blackness, shot through with hopeful green, sorrowful blue. It goes on and on, reaching as far as Cailluneth's tired young mind can reach, encouraged by the heat of that heart hearth. Gentle, dusky purple extends towards her dam, curling with questions of what it's like to kill; how does it feel? The throb of a heartbeat, quick with fear and fading with death, crimson-dark, the taste of blood, of meat - cut meat, not that which has been felled by her own paw and jaws. Is that how it is? Is that the glory? As her mind calms in its dark forever, the questions come almost as a request for a bedtime story, a tale to be tucked in to. "M-miss Azaylia, you're cold." N'ky can't miss that much, even if he himself doesn't feel it - but then again, he's dressed for it. "H-here..." He unbuttons his jacket, slipping out of it and flicking it out so it settles across the weyrwoman's shoulders, draped like a cloak. He's still got a long-sleeved tunic on, and looks more than comfortable in the cool tunnel. "W-would you like, um... C-Cailluneth can, um... she's warm. Sh-she can c-cuddle with you?" Like a chubby green hot water bottle! "I'm s-so sorry, ma'am, I d-didn't want to get anyone out of b-bed... I-I'll be sure to s-speak to weyrlingmasters Quinlys and Meara i-in the morning." His stutter's easing up (to a degree!), which means the teenager's calming down, relaxing a little. Perhaps concern for himself has been transferred to concern that he might cause the weyrwoman to get sick, as he reaches out to rub his hand along her upper arm, an awkward attempt to warm her. "S-snowfolk sound good." Cailluneth must have a mental image of them, as she croons her approval of them, before she yawns, and leans more heavily against N'ky's leg. "Um... ma'am Azaylia? Sh-she says your f-feet look cold, ma'am, um... m-maybe I could... um... well, the stone's c-cold, and... w-would you like a p-piggyback? B-back to your w-weyr, ma'am? So you don't g-get, um, cold. S-sick cold. If you w-want to go back now?" Hraedhyth's temper has been tested. Her mood? Not terribly generous. And yet, « You will be allowed to eat from the carcass, soon. » Though she knows that is not all Cailluneth desires, that it's not enough. Tongue of flame bathes the pup, soothing scorched ambition and lingering burns from her earlier reprimand. « When you and Yours are safe in bed, I will tell you. » Only known to deal in truths, her drums echoing with the promise, one she intends to keep. Azaylia attempts to shake off his concern, though even her soft laugh quivers some, "I am. That's what I get for forgetting my sh-shoes." Unable to help her own, chilly stutter. There's a quiet protest as he places his jacket over her cloak, but the woman eventually accepts, "Thank you N'ky. Cailluneth. But I think I should walk you two back to the barracks. The sooner we do that, the sooner I can warm myself up in my own weyr." She's already begun to pick a careful path around Cailluneth's handiwork when the green weyrling offers to give her a piggyback ride. Another laugh, breathless and warm, "I appreciate the thought." Judging from her glow-lit smile, the weyrwoman truly does. "But I'm alright. Really. If I get sick it'll be my own fault. Now lets get you two to bed." Her smile fades, sharing her own realization, "You do know I'll have to write a report to Quinlys? She might punish you." Said with sympathy, but no other indication that the goldrider intends to let them off easy as she turns to lead them out of the tunnels. N'ky falls in after Azaylia, following her lead with Cailluneth padding along by his side. When she mentions getting warm in her weyr, he cringes guiltily, biting down on his lip as he realises, again, that his actions have got the woman not only out of her bed, but shivering cold beside him in tunnels littered with tunnelsnakes. "I'm s-sorry, ma'am. Um... y-you can blame me, if you get s-sick. It's my fault you got out of bed... I'm r-really sorry." And the apology is definitely there, heavy in his tone. "I-I expect she m-might punish me," he says of Quinlys, shrugging his shoulder gently at the inevitability - actions have consequences, after all, and he doesn't seem to want to worm his way out of them. "Um... b-but maybe she can help, too?" He kicks a dead tunnelsnake aside after nearly stepping on it, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Cailluneth says tunnelsnakes taste bad. She didn't eat any," he's quick to add, "but they tasted bad in her mouth." « My heart takes me to sleep. » Cailluneth's words are laced with starlight and the velvet darkness of night. Her protective bubble finally bursts, splintering into rainbow light, with each fragment coming back together into a warm, cosy blanket of lush purple - a blanket to hide beneath, for her and hers, for Hraedhyth to share, to be lulled to sleep by. Comfort is a gentle powder blue, tiredness is jade, twining tendrils of pastel colour up and out towards her dam, capturing the bronze tea that is Azaylia and drawing that into the warmth she borrows from the gold's flames. Heat and comfort, in apology for causing trouble. If there's any emotion met with each 'snake carcass they come across, Azaylia keeps it out of her voice. "I'd be more upset if you weren't sorry. I know this was all for Cailluneth, but spoiling her might make things worse in the end." She glances back at the green, giving a coo, "No matter how hard it is to say no to that sweet face." The weyrwoman isn't given much time to admire the pudgy dragonet, having to watch her step as they travel from the deeper caverns out towards the bowl. "I'm sure she can, N'ky. That's what Weyrlingmasters are for." Holding her glow out in front of her, the goldrider wrinkles her nose and turns just enough so that N'ky can see. "I never thought they looked appetitizng. Some people like to skin them and roast them, I heard." Goldrider and weyrling can talk about how gross that is on their way back to his couch. Once they're tucked in, so to speak, Azaylia returns his coat and walks briskly back to her own weyr. It's more of a run, really. « Hush. » This time, Hraedhyth's order comes with the faint rustling of tall grass, of bodies covered in coarse fur rubbing up against each other. « We all must learn when we are young. » A breath of smokey relief for the fact that the green didn't have to learn the hard way this evening. Once they're back in the barracks, and only then, does hot, pulsating crimson spill forth. The scent of smoked meats, of prey within her dam's fiery grasp is shared, leaving out the more technical side of stalking and killing. This is not a lesson. Cailluneth will only be shown the heart of it, the primal passion of running down prey and the wet crunch-squelch of satisfaction. Nightmarish visions fill the little green's head, drums thumping their lullaby until Cailluneth falls asleep. |
Comments
K'zin (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 26 Mar 2013 20:43:22 GMT.
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Aw. Love this. Cai is so cute and I love seeing Hrae being a mom. Awesome!
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