Logs:Cold-Hearted
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 15 January, 2016 |
| Who: Ka'ge, Lys, Evyth, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lys and Ka'ge are totally sweet, nice people. Really. |
| Where: Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Language, adult themes. Backdated. |
    |
| It's a windy day in Fort, but there's neither rain nor snow with the clouds travelling so quickly across the overcast sky. It might be because of the weather conditions that Lys' mentor chose Fort Weyr for today's practice jump. Evyth's greeting to the watch dragon was cheerful and full of the pride of the young and inexperienced at having successfully ended up where she was supposed to end up. Being with their mentors, however, means that once they're on the ground, Lys and Evyth are left to her own devices for a time while her mentor, an older greenrider, takes care of some personal business. Evyth elects to take the time in the air, experimenting with the tricky wind patterns, though keeping well clear of anything that might cause real trouble in unknown and unpredictable weather. Lys, for her part, takes a stroll down the length of the bowl toward the lake, hands tucked into her hand-me-down riding jacket that does little for her figure, helmet and goggles left tucked in their satchel on Evyth's straps. Higher above the bowl and just beneath the lower cloud cover, Zymadiath circles on the upper windy currents as they twist and turn. There's evident continual adjustments in his heavy wings as they catch either too much or too little to keep him on his usually easy path. Observation. Vigilance. When the foreign greens arrive, his circle falls lower, a little dip bringing his altitude abrush with the level of the higher weyrs. To Evyth, blackness creeps. Like ink spilt from its jar, slowly seeping, flowing, staining the edges of consciousness with the depth of night. It's just watching, this blackness, a greeting in its own right, as it stays at a distance like some half-seen phantom lurking down a hall. His rider comes from the direction of the stables and feeding grounds, at some unhurried pace. Ka'ge pats his gloves together, a small dust cloud arising and being swept away by the winds in the same moment, his efforts shared with his black pants that seem less-black at the moment, so dusty. And hooded young man almost continues past the weyrling in her trek to the lake, but that unexpected twinge of recognition drags him to a pause. "Miss me that much?" Comes only-slightly arrogant by tone greeting. To Zymadiath, Evyth is graceful in flight and the new currents and winds make this exciting and challenging. There's easy joy in her touch, her attention briefly slipping from her path to that strange creeping blackness. « Hello, » is her own slightly surprised greeting, complete with the inviting scents of home cooked meals fresh off the fire. Lys isn't expecting to be accosted, and so she rocks to a stop, onto her forward foot and then back onto her back one, brow furrowing, lips already set in an unimpressed line as her eyes find the hooded young man. "Who are you?" She asks, squinting a little. It might even be a real inquiry, what with the hood and all. It sounds real at any rate. The ink fades at edges, smokey corners beginning to writhe, until it could be noticed that all the darkness moves in a steady nightmarish rhythmic dance as one. This, as Zymadiath becomes a more outright presence instead of simply a watchful one. Figments that could-be draw slightly closer; those inviting scents being just-so. Low, gravelly mind voice is still distant though, somewhere within the darkness but not so close, « Good, for young wings. » As if he is so old, but at least it's a compliment as the bronze drops lower still. (To Evyth from Zymadiath) A shuffle of his jacket, an adjustment at the collar, and he draws back that hood, though by the lack of change of his expression- a general mildly amused sort of smile- it doesn't seem like he's dependent on that to jog her memory. "Nobody important." Ka'ge answers as he does so, but he doesn't appear interested in just leaving it at that either. "Nameless weyrling of High Reaches, welcome to Fort." It's almost nice, if he'd manage to leave the twinge of sarcasm out of it. But he does tilt his head, a semblance of a very slight bow. He's not accosting, is he? Blue-green eyes are still darkened by his heavy brows as he looks up at her from under them when he straightens again. "Visiting a friend?" To Zymadiath, Evyth is unnerved. Nightmareish? She's a green with a sweet temperament. While the dance might be enough to make her curious, it doesn't overshadow her edge of discomfort. « Exciting, » she ventures, « for new places to fly. This is your home? » Let it not be said that Lys wasn't dutiful. She offers, "High Reaches' duties to Fort," briefly, without expression. Her blue-green gaze meets his unflinchingly. "Practicing." Her eyes narrow a little at him, but then she's stepping off to continue her path toward the lake. Perhaps she'd sooner just leave him there with only those words. If she's able to walk on, it wouldn't strictly be accosting yet. To Evyth, Zymadiath is nothing but those figments of darkness, but there is interest there. Arrogant amusement from the bronze is comfortable in the face of discomfort, not too far a cry from His. « It is. » He answers, of both things in one. The slight wavering of the foggy, ghostly edges of his blackness being the semblance of a chuckle. « Have you been many places already? » Ka'ge turns to walk with her as she begins to return to her previously intended path, his gaze turned out and away, as if observing the lake's occupants from afar. Cocky, still, is that demeanor and stride of his, as very much is the fact that he's inviting himself along for her walk. "Chilly by the lake today." He starts, lazily toned. "Chilly here, too." Is not a reflection of the weather, clearly, with the brief side glance he steals towards her, shoving dusty gloved hands into pockets. To Zymadiath, Evyth, it may be said, is a far cry from hers. Where Lys might spar without taking wounds, the green is sensitive. She doesn't like that he's arrogantly amused and the smells are becoming fainter, her joy muted. « Not many. » It's awkward, this not wanting to be rude, but not being comfortable staying in the face of what he presents. "They say High Reaches women are frigid bitches," Lys owns the words without concern that some people might think them a negative description. "Probably the chill just clings from there to here. She glances askance to the bronzerider, eyes still a little narrowed, expression lazily unimpressed. "Do you force your company on every woman that doesn't want it or am I just special?" The question is lofted casually, tossed to him as if the game were just beginning, since he's not gone away yet. The dragon above her recedes, both in the physical and mental sense. The darkness fades, though never entirely gone is it from the periphery of the mind. Still mobile, still in the likeness of figments but so far away. Zymadiath himself turns massive wings, gliding on an obliging wind that carries him to one of the highest ledges. He settles there, wings partially furled cape-like as he watches. Not just her, of course, but all those in the skies and the bowl below. He is not a sensitive dragon, but he does not push the young green beyond what he has. He has no reason to. (To Evyth from Zymadiath) Ka'ge's grin broadens to almost a toothy, if lopsided, smile. "I'd say that statement counts for most women, not just you snow-covered ones. A little extra bite is not a bad thing." His comments may lean towards the inappropriate, but he doesn't have the pressure he's given on their chance meetings before. From afar, he could even look like he's just making pleasant conversation. "I do, actually." This, said all-too-seriously in his casual, non-nonchalant manner, his brow furrowed lightly in mock-thoughtfulness. "It at least makes them straightforward; Stop that. Give that back. Leave that alone. Get lost...." He drawls, pulling a hand out of his pocket to gesture vaguely in an 'et cetera' sort of motion. "Not to say you aren't special. I don't remember the last time I went for an evening stroll." How sweet. There's a small measure of relief to be felt before Evyth takes the offered out and withdraws. (To Zymadiath from Evyth) "No wonder you're forced to think of them all that way," Lys 'tchs', poor Ka'ge~ Only, no, she doesn't really care and flashes him a fake smile to show it. "How many of those things do I have to say myself before you take one or all together as a hint? It could be that a miracle will manifest and your path will divert anytime now," divert away. "I don't really believe in miracles." Ka'ge muses, as if fully interested in the topic, and buying her fake smile for what it isn't. "Unless coincidences and unfortunate circumstances count." There's a darker look on him, more mischievous, as he narrows his eyes while watching the ground in front of the steps he takes. "Not a one has worked so far. Not sure if it's the lack of persistence, or just missing the magic touch." The latter few words are intoned as if she might have that touch. Although, clearly the hints aren't working thus far. "Shame, I could really do with one about now," Lys sighs, much put-upon. "But really, it seems like an awful lot of wasted effort, bronzerider. All this persistence in the face of absolute rejection." She tilts her head a little, as if an idea were only just now occurring to her, "Or did you not get that when I didn't want you to touch me?" There, clearly, since there was plenty of other touching. "Wasted effort." This gives away a faint bitter edge otherwise masked with that continued arrogance and fake grin in response to fake smile. "Is only entirely true if I get nothing out of it." Which, he implies, he must be getting something out of this. And Ka'ge, always so casual, so unperturbed, apparently finds nothing so off-putting in this exchange. "Aye," He notes slowly, a side glance at her not without a provided wink, "I got you just fine. And- ah" He turns his attention up, as if searching for something, drawing out the effort somewhat dramatically and ending with a 'stch' sound through his teeth, "Lucky you, I guess your miracle is there's no flights today. Your wish, sweetheart, is as good as granted." "So what, you get off on being rejected?" Lys apparently has no trouble asking the hard questions in life. Only then she's giving him a look like he's crazy (because he is), "Yeah, okay, bronzerider." 'Moron' says her tone. "If you think what happened between us, on my end, had anything to do with a greenflight then you're stupider than I thought," which is saying a lot. Ka'ge makes a sound in the back of his throat, a hmph of an unamused laugh that is probably the closest thing to honest that's been shared so far at her first question. "I don't care why you did it." That, too, is honest, and there's a plain look on his face that's lost all that humor. "It was good timing and well received." Not even 'well given'? That ego slipped a little, there. "And your allure, well..." He cocks his head to one side, a semblance of a shrug and a flicker of a return of his smirk in recall of her use of shadows and public. "Well-practiced... or simply natural talent." "Good," because she's not telling him why she did it. Lys' expression blanks. Her tone is bland when she tells him, "Just good timing." Her lips purse briefly and she asks in a real way, "Why are you even talking to me?" "Y'can't expect to visit a Weyr and not talk to its 'folk. And it's my duty to be a gracious host..." Ka'ge says first, heavy in dry sarcasm, and in the typical lie of what-he-doesn't-actually-believe, trailing off to end with a lopsided shrug. The rustle of his jacket is loud in the quiet interim that follows. The look on his face is more neutral after, a subdued sigh only followed by a minimal chuckle. "Hardly would believe personal reasons matter to you." His eyes glaze, distracted, and he looks up again, though this time in a particular direction. His steps pause when he does so, falling behind should she so desire to keep on walking. The shadows never left, of course, and they don't invade even now that the gravelly mindvoice reaches again for the young green. This time unamused, this time not so arrogant- though Zymadiath is Zymadiath and his boldness comes by nature and not insult. But the low, quiet tones speak as if from around a corner, offering what won't-be-said but should, « She helps. Her companionship, however abrasive, has our gratitude. » Wanted, or not, he implies. (To Evyth from Zymadiath) She only rolls her eyes to the first. The second does see Lys continuing on, giving only an offhanded response of, "You're right. I'm a frigid bitch. Probably don't even have a beating heart in my chest. I'd probably consider it a miracle if you dropped dead to spare me the reasons." Good thing Ka'ge doesn't believe in miracles. To Zymadiath, Evyth is startled by his rejoinder and pulls up short in the air, ending up buffeted by an unexpected gust and it takes her a moment to steady herself before she can make a reply. « I'm... not sure I understand, » she admits with a wincing apology. « Helps? » Ka'ge runs fingers through his black hair, though with as wind-tossed as it is already, he couldn't make it much messier. "I have personal experience that tells me a heart does beat in there. I just imagine it has a few dragonlengths thick of ice around it. Too much time up in those damn mountains." As if that's the only reason. "You and many others, weyrling. Glad my neck isn't up for a vote. It'd be such a shame to lose this face." To Evyth, Zymadiath is quiet for a moment, decisions being made on how much to divulge, and in that lapse there's no scents or sounds. Only the dark of where he may be, such is he withdrawn, like the night sky just being there in the distance. There's a faint image there, too, blurred and buried in darkness, but clear enough to make out the two riders walking and talking by the lake. « Helpful. » He says again, « Just to talk to. » "Huh, I'd have thought fucking someone hard," not only physically, "would be evidence of a lack of heart, not proof of one." Lys accompanies her words with a cool look. « Oh, » Evyth may still not completely understand but she offers a polite, « Well, thank you for telling me. » (To Zymadiath from Evyth) "It's good to learn a little something new every day." Ka'ge's response comes as if he supports her correction, cocky as ever. His hands spread briefly, palms upturned even as he himself turns to begin walking the other direction. But with his arms back at his sides, he pauses to speak over his shoulder, quieter, easier to miss if she's not paying attention, "And nobody tries quite that hard unless they've got something to hide." Before he, too, is moving off and leaving her be. Lys turns briefly, walking backwards now, to call, "It's effortless to tell you to get lost!" And probably everything else she's said. Being a dick is just a natural talent for some people. |
Leave A Comment