Logs:Composure
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| RL Date: 25 November, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: The raid on Nabol and Rone's death affects some more than others. |
| Where: Weyrleader Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 4, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Barnabas/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: I was explaining Azaylia's thoughts on some things, and someone suggested I turn at least one of them into a vignette. Backdated, obviously. |
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| Like most days, Azaylia took her breakfast in the niche nestled within the Weyrleader Complex. Though spring, it was still cool enough that she needed her cloak and was unable to tempt Bones to come out and join her. The fresh air was worth a bit of a chill, in her opinion, and she enjoyed watching the steam of her tea dance to the music of a rousing Weyr. Hraedhyth was on a schedule that matched the latest weyrling class, and so she was alert by the time the news came. « We are at war. » It started Azaylia into putting down her toast, turning her head to stare off into the distance. Little did she realize, her gaze was aimed in the direction of far-off Nabol. "What?" The queen's drums thundered as she rose to her feet with a barely choked back roar of challenge. Why was she not there? She had no flame, but she had teeth and claw and a warrior's thirst for battle. The dragon's memory, being what it was, had not remembered the words spoken by Cadejoth's rider. All she knew now was that her people were fighting and she could only be with them in spirit. No doubt, each dragon flaming over Nabol would feel Hraedhyth's heated support, spurning them on. "Oh." Azaylia resumed her breakfast, mumbling to herself around a mouthful of toast, "Right." Unlike her lifemate, she remembered what K'del had told her... if only just a moment ago. At least she was able to finish a portion of her meal before another jolt of surprise was felt through her bond with Hraedhyth. What happened? « He is gone. » Azaylia's heart skipped a beat. Who? Y'rel? A sooty snort banished the Weyrwoman's misplaced concern. Did Hreadhyth keen? No. Instead, the tawny gold was filled with righteous flames that burned with an intensity that it surprised her rider. With savage pride, « Him. Their Leader lay dead at our feet. » That mild surprise returned, "Oh." The Weyrwoman brought the cup of tea to her lips, pausing to inhale the spiced steam before she took a long, savoring sip. Good. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Composure"Varied (Varied (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 26 Nov 2013 17:44:45 GMT.
It is Vignette Weekend. With Extra Bonus Material.
Hraedhyth savage, Azaylia mild (yet with the transition to 'the Weyrwoman'), all fun!
D'kan (D'kan (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 01 Dec 2013 04:40:45 GMT.
(As I painfully slowly catch up...) I really enjoyed the contrast here. Hraedhyth's righteous zeal and fury. Azaylia's colder calculation. The top of the ladder means a chilling draft that she seems to be embracing. It certainly beats freezing to death.
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