Logs:Discord In His Wake
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| RL Date: 30 July, 2008 |
| Who: Paige, D'kai, A'riste, V'delin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'riste, D'kai and Paige head to the feeding grounds on an afternoon, dragons in tow. Imirath decides to demonstrate to Tiasheth how to inspire the most fear into a herdbeast. What results inspires fear, all right - and not just into the herdbeast. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 4, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
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| Mid-day brings with it a shining warmth from the overhead sun. The air is warming, even if it is only slightly, and a cool breeze carries with it the scent of herdbeasts, with all that entails. One lean blond rests against the fence near the edge of the grassy field containing the animals, trying to coerce a certain smoke-tinged bronze that the beasts in the pen are just as good as those outside of it. "Fine. I'll let one out and you can chase it. Makes the meat tougher, anyway. Stringy, when you death-run all the fat away. Wherry brain." Imirath waits, unmoving, unresponsive, eyes merely watching the animals in the pen. "No, it's more like - here, just - no, it's different. That's a fish. This is a wherry, or a herdbeast. I'm sure it's - okay, yeah. Guts are guts, but they're shaped differently, I'd think. You'll see for yourself soon enough, won't you?" On the end of a one-sided conversation, D'kai's words drift towards the feeding grounds, the lad and his bronze shortly behind them. The lanky dragonet is nearly as large as a full-grown green by now, but there's still a bit of awkward length to his limbs, and he capers and romps a bit inelegantly behind his lifemate. "Here, I'm sure you're bound to - oh, V'delin, sir." Deke snaps off a salute to the man as he approaches. "Good afternoon!" Paige and Tiasheth approach the feeding grounds along the curve of the lake shore, veering away from the water and into the grass before they edge nearer to the pen. The small green stretches her neck forward a little, whirling eyes considering the milling beasts calmly enough. And there's an Imirath, too, to whom she extends a cheerful warble of greeting, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and the scent of stirred, damp earth. Waving to D'kai, Paige is quick to follow the young bronzerider's example, saluting V'delin and murmuring a polite, if noticeably quiet, "Hullo, V'delin. Sir." A'riste has arrived. One-sided conversations for the win, apparently, as V'delin continues his, interspersed with sidelong commentary. "I don't think they like it because you eat more when you chase them down outside of the pens. Not enough fat left to sate you." Imirath lifts his head, indignant, then watches the weyrlings as they come into view. "Oh, good afternoon, D'kai, and to Paige, too." He raises his hand in a relaxed wave, then gestures to the pens. "Come to stake out a pick? Er, I mean, Imirath usually picks one ahead of time, and then later that's -the- one he wants out. I don't know if yours," gesture to the dragonets, "will do the same." Ambling nearer to the older bronze rider, Deke cranes his neck back to lift his eyebrows at Mikhuth, then out into the pen, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah?" He nods towards V'delin as he props an elbow against the fence, says, "He says that's a good idea. He was just asking about the different between fish guts and - herdbeast guts. Hey, Paige." This greeting's tacked on a bit belatedly, but with a grin, and Mikhuth tosses his head towards the slim green. "They're not old enough to catch their own yet - /are we, Mickey?/" The young bronze, who'd directly hopped the fence and headed off towards the milling animals, freezes in his tracks and snuffles back over his shoulder. To Tiasheth, Imirath rustles, a brush of languid liquid searching for the porousness of the surface it touches, « Greetings, young one. Come to select the most tender morsel? » "I - dunno if'n I'm too keen t'find tha' out, " Paige replies carefully, glancing back and forth between the beasts and little Tiasheth. "She dun seem t'be real picky now, as 'tis." And as D'kai mentions guts, she blanches visibly, earning her a low croon from the green who steps closer to nudge gently at her shoulder. "S'he really tha' curious?" she asks, nodding toward Mikhuth. "Guts're - guts." From somewhere behind them, Valioth rumbles, watching the herdbeasts with a rather analytical regard. Taking notes on future kills? His rider's with him, and looking rather disgusted by it all. "It's still moving," A'riste grumbles. "It's just not right to be picking out your dinner while it's still /moving/." To Imirath, Tiasheth is a gentle stirring of leaves at the rustle, a cool breeze curiously swirling forth to meet this languid touch, voice a warm alto. « Not quite, » replies she, « but we will, soon enough. » And a beat later: « How can you tell which ones are the best? » V'delin wrinkles his mouth a little at Deke's explanation. "Difference between - ugh. Slimy, and hot and slimy, as far as I can make out." How elegantly proclaimed. "I'd imagine they taste as different to them as fish does from wherry for us - would you ever confuse the two?" Though after a pause he adds, "Sometimes I think they eat fast enough that they don't notice a taste at all. Seems wasteful." Imirath lifts his head at Valioth's arrival, shifting his focus to the analytical bronze. "You'll get used to it, A'riste. Eventually. Or else stop eating herdbeast." To Tiasheth, Imirath surrounds the leaves, inspecting each for detail and for flaw as the dripping of tiny water droplets press almost uncomfortably close. « They are the ones with fear in their eyes. » "Well," There's a trace of a laugh in D'kai's voice, "Most of what he's got to sort through up here," and the boy taps a long finger against his forehead, "Has to do with fish guts. Seems natural he'd take an interest in it. And, you know. Bloodthirsty men and all that. Manly." This with a twinkle and wink towards Paige as the lean bronze, slipping from Deke's attention, saunters a bit farther into the enclosure, pausing here and there to sniff at a stain or sun-bleached bone, then lift his head to glance pensively at Imirath for a moment. "A'riste!" The tall lad has a sweeping greeting for the Harper, and a grin. "Your own meals are only a bonk on the head and a minute on the stove away from still moving, aren't they?" As well the fisher boy should know! Paige just blanches further as V'delin elaborates, quickly glancing down at the grass. Grass is safe, right? "Bloodthirsty, " the girl repeats, nose wrinkling. "Manly. I'll uh - take yer word fer it." Tiasheth settles placidly enough next to her lifemate, but follows Mikhuth's movements with her head before swinging her muzzle toward the beasts again, observing. Because that's all she can do, for now. "'Fraid we'll all hafta get used ter - them pickin' out movin' dinner, " is muttered A'riste-ward. "I ain' plannin' on watchin', tha's fer sure." To Imirath, Tiasheth doesn't seem terribly troubled by the droplets that close in; to his water, her earth drifts upward again, the scent of freshly dampened soil just after a rain shower. « Are they? » And there's a curious glance for the beasts in the pen. « So you choose the one that is most afraid of you, » she reasons. To Tiasheth, Imirath rains in futility against that soil, absorbing the scents of dampened earth and of the slick guile of forming mud. « Not of me, » a mirthful chuckle replies. « Merely the most afraid. » Hesitation, whorls and rings of forgesmoke obscuring the rain and the soil. « The taste is superior. » "Yes, but I still don't have to witness it. That was Jendel's job. Mine was to eat and to sing prettily." A'riste comes up alongside the others, finally, and looks from one to the other to the other before considering the bones, the herd... His mouth twists a little, wryly. "We're all savages now, I suppose. I'm a hypocrite if I eat it but I won't kill it." Valioth's attention shifts to Imirath, and then back to the herd: which one will the crafty bronze choose? What are his criteria for a good selection? Oh, yes, Imirath's someone to watch. "It's not so awful now, the moving dinner idea, and it's true it's not so distant for our own meals." Ven nods to Deke. "What I found least tolerable about Imirath's first days from shell was how strongly I could taste the meat, taste everything." V'delin regards the trio curiously. "That still happening for you, or is it easier to discern by now?" He moves over to the gate, lets himself into the pen, quickly cutting one beast off from the pack and nudging it closer to the gate even as Imirath continues to feign indifference. "He prefers the open chase, rather than confined to the pens. Dreadful bother, it is. Mind opening the gate, D'kai, anyone? Think I've got one close enough. Not his favorite, but it'll have to do." Sneak, sneak. Roll over what may've once been a leg, or a rib, or what-have-you. Pass by that, investigate a pile of more complete remains - some blue too full, maybe, leaving most of the meat, but now too putrid to eat - Mikhuth moves here and there, snuffling and huffing, now and then whirling green eyes over at Imirath, and then suddenly, at V'delin's movement, loping nearer to the fence, drawing up next to D'kai and whuffling into the lad's hair, resting his chin on the fence and training his gaze on the lone herdbeast. The boy automatically reaches up to run his hand over the bronze's head, and nods, though not to anything in particular. "It's not so bad." To V'delin's question. "I don't notice it so much - and I think we're sorted out who's who, for the most part. Savage?" Questioningly over at A'riste, but with a shrug. Paige shudders a little, even as Tiasheth shuffles forward to watch how this beast herding is accomplished. "Tha' was the firs' thin' I worked on keepin' outta my head, " she confesses, "but s'never been real strong with her. She knows I ain' too keen on knowin' how her meals, uh, taste." For A'riste, there's a look of agreement, mouth twitching slightly. "Least we dun hafta do the killin'?" she offers, giving the gate a nervous glance as V'delin asks for assistance. Not it? To Imirath, Tiasheth embraces the rain, but seems less certain of what to do with the mud. Leaving it in favor of sending a cool wind through the mixing water and earth, she considers this, moving the air to nudge at the rings of smoke curiously. « Superior? I do not understand how fear can taste superior - or is it the rush of hunting that improves the flavor? » To Tiasheth, Imirath considers, wrapping the earth in damp, provoking a slippery layer of slime mold to form on still surfaces, struggling against the winds. « The rush of being chased, perhaps. I will show you, with this one. » Aren't we?" A'riste asks Paige. "Are we really not?" Beside him, Valioth holds very, very still, unmoving, his whirling gaze intent on what's happening, what might be about to happen. And he shrugs a shoulder at D'kai; his answer to Paige could've gone for the other lad, as well. He moves to wrestle open the gate, becoming complicit in it all. "Have at." The beast notices an opening and sets out toward it at a run as V'delin picks up speed, rushing toward him. "Thanks, A'riste. And don't worry, this is how Imi hunts all the time - it's frowned upon, but no one's told me he can't. Whew. Lucky, that was, that he went out rather than to the side." The bronzerider leans on the fence a moment, panting at his effort as the dappled beast slants sidelong, rushing at the least frightening things it can identify, which would be Paige and Tiasheth, even though Imirath and Valioth are the ones remaining utterly still. "For me, anyw--watch out!" D'kai's got a slight shrug for all that savage-philosophical-nonsense, leaning back against the fence after starting forward and then moving back as A'riste grapples the gate open. "It's pretty simple, I thou-" The words trail into silence as the herdbeast veers off towards Paige and Tiasheth, and the boy cries out and starts forward with a hand outstretched. But Mikhuth's faster still - he flares forward, wings wide, with a vicious snap of sharp teeth at the little beast, hoping to turn it away from /his/ clutchmate. Paige has no immediate answer for A'riste, pale gaze flicking between her attentive green and the gate. Then it's open, the beast is rushing out - and heading right for them. As Mikhuth moves to intercept the runaway beast, Tiasheth bounds in front of her lifemate, eyes wheeling and jaw opening to snap at the creature, too, wings half-flaring to hide Paige from view as the slim girl scurries away from the tableau, grabbing D'kai's hand instinctively, eyes wide. But her concern is for the young dragons attempting to corner the beast. "Tiasheth!" Wail. "I'm alrigh', leave 'em be!" To Imirath, Tiasheth doesn't expect the beast to rush her and Paige, breeze falling away into the alarmed rush of sharp arrows whistling through the rain. « Paige! » And all the while that she's trying to help Mikhuth keep the beast away from her lifemate, there's a floating sense of uncertainty; the jaws snap and the wings flare, but is it enough to stop it? Will he help them? Valioth suddenly lunges into motion: he spreads his wings wide and bounds forward, instinctively doing the same as Mikhuth. His toothy maw open wide, he bugles brassily, warning the herdbeast away from his smaller clutchmate. A'riste gasps and flattens himself against the fence, his own instincts somewhat rather less than noble! The herdbeast makes a high-pitched wail as he turns only to find his path blocked. Caught as he is now between plenty-large and protective weyrling dragons in green and bronze, he ceases any headlong attack to whirl about, rushing at one, then shying away and kicking at, then running toward the open space, fortunately clear of the dragons, terrified, and making for open bowl ground. White froth burbles around his mouth as he races hard, panting, to escape. To Tiasheth, Imirath touches the frightened beast's mind, bringing that abject horror, that sensation of imminent demise, lightly to the young dragon - not to overwhelm, merely to share as much as she's able to accept. « That fear. It tastes delicious. » An afterthought, also: « You acted well. Instinct. Protection of self and rider. Well done. » "Savages," V'delin echoes lamely, the words finally sinking in, his lips pursing into a line as the weyrling dragons take on strike positions, and his fingers tighten on the fence, concerned. Once the immediate danger seems past, and he regards A'riste, his own breath labored. "Wouldn't have thought of it like that, exactly, but then I've been told I'm less than civilized myself. Ah - sorry about the fright, there. With the beast." Imirath, who has pointedly not stirred to help, leaps then and lands in front of the beast's path, trying to turn it back toward where the fun is to be had. To Imirath, Tiasheth recoils from the roiling sensations, arrows falling sharply downwards to *thunk* into the trees, the ground - wherever they can reach. An immediate silence sweeps over her; even the breezes still as the danger passes. She's speechless, perhaps, but there's a sense of her own horror to mirror that of the frightened beast's, even if it's considerably smaller. She can hardly accept this. Deke grabs back at Paige as she catches his hand, stepping between her and - well, rather unnecessarily - the trio of dragonets and the butting, frantic herdbeast. It's not until the beast is well and properly distant (for the moment at least) that Mikhuth allows his wings to droop, and though his forefeet knead into the soil, churning up little chunks of grass and dirt, he relaxes, muscle by muscle. Keeping an eye on the beast - and Imirath - D'kai grins shakily at Paige, uncurling his deathgrip on her with white-knuckled fingers. "All good? No harm done," and this is half-directed to V'delin, too. To Tiasheth, Imirath tries to stand up to the falling barrage of arrows, forged armor causing clanking, but he retreats, pulling back the images as her discomfort becomes apparent and replacing them with those of her rider, tranquil, safe, clinging to the other bronzerider nearby. « She is protected. She is safe. You are, as well. These are meals. Sustenance. You would starve to see them as otherwise. » To Mikhuth, Tiasheth stirs up a rustling pile of leaves in the wake of a passing breeze, voice shaky and tentative. « Mikhuth. You are alright? » And amidst her concern, there's a swell of gratitude for his leap forward to protect her and her lifemate. « You and Valioth are very noble. Thank you. » To Tiasheth, Mikhuth's own mind is ablaze with flame and writhing, angry smoke, though as the breeze passes through, the licking fire dies down, albeit not before singeing a leaf or two. « 'talmo't /hurt/ ye, lass! » and in his trembling ire, the mindvoice is nearly incomprehensible, thick with infuriated shouting of a trader camp stirred with danger. Paige clings to Deke, posture frozen in a tense stiffening that suggests she'd much rather keep running far, far away. But as the danger passes, her shoulders sag forward and she returns his shaky grin with a trembling look, pale eyes still round with fear. "Yeah, we're - we're fine, " she finally gets out after a few minutes, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks." Turning her attention to V'delin, she just blinks wildly at him, still pale. "S'not yer fault, " she manages, taking an unsteady step forward to bury her head into Tiasheth's shoulder as the green hastens to her, eyes gradually slowing their frantic spin, but still tinged with yellow. To Valioth, Tiasheth's mind is eerily silent in the aftermath of the danger, but still, she extends a rustling breeze toward him, grateful. « You and Mikhuth are very noble - and very brave. Thank you. » If there's admiration present, it's latent, buried beneath a swirling sense of fear and leftover concern. Valioth hisses softly at Imirath, for some reason, and moves back to rejoin A'riste, who reaches out with a shaky hand to brace himself on his bronze's neck... clinging would be too unmanly a word. He's breathing quickly, and his pallor is worse than usual-- but hasn't he said that he's a coward? High-strung at the very least. "I don't think I'll immortalize this one. I really don't." To Imirath, Tiasheth remains a swirl of discomfort, even when the images are replaced with calmer, safer images of Paige, unhurt. « Yes, » she says at last, « but we were not chasing, Imirath. We were being chased. » V'delin's still a little white-knuckled, only little reassured by Paige's shaky words. He glances over each of them, takes a slow breath. "Just a herdbeast, too. I mean, it was frightened, which means unpredictable, but even if we'd been alone, facing it down would've probably caused it to run." Imirath, woefully, does not succeed in turning the rogue herdbeast promptly about, so he takes a moment to regard the young dragons as he allows the beast to gain some distance before giving chase again. Belatedly, Ven's voice gives words to another thought: "Please don't, A'riste. I've already had a few turns on outer watch; I'd rather avoid a few more." To Tiasheth, Imirath is firm, even a little soothing as he returns, « You stood ground. The 'beast retreated. » A memory of the scene, from the perspective of the larger dragon, only hazed, fragmented, and utterly calm, distant. « Therefore, you chased. It ran. » A projected slowing of heartbeats, the sounds drawn down meant to echo the calming of Tiasheth and her rider, or to encourage it. Lastly, confusion, lingering behind. « Was it not in the least exciting, to face the beast? » To Tiasheth, Valioth's anger is still up, and crackles like fire-burned autumn leaves. His reply is a sensation more than anything: a protective wing, shielding her, a beautiful quicksilver green, from the rude herdbeast. Blood and flesh from a shared kill. Mikhuth's the last to let down his guard, and finally, after another long minute of sentry, he flips his wings to his back and crouches next to D'kai, keeping his gaze fixed on Imirath and the herdbeast. As Paige releases him, the lad sinks next to the bronze, draping an arm around his sinuous neck. But the boy manages a laugh up to A'riste: "What'd you call it, anyway? The Ballad of How We All Tried to Scare Off One Angry Herdbeast? Imirath's Lunch, Gone Wrong?" Okay, maybe not that funny, but at least he's trying? "Ain' worth bein' immortalized, " Paige mutters, still pressed against Tiasheth, so it comes out a little muffled. Nonetheless, she takes a step back after several, long moments, face still peaked, shoulders still quivering like leaves on the verge of falling. "S'not quite what I had in mind fer Tia observin' the grounds." Tiasheth remains close once her lifemate releases her, neck arching protectively over the slight weyrling. There's a tremulous, grateful croon for the two, young bronzes, eyes slowing further. To Mikhuth, Tiasheth responds in a soft rush of warmth, sunlight spilling through dense foliage to brighten the leaves that swirl gently into the other's fury. « Yes, » she says briefly. « But all is well, Mikhuth. We are safe, now. » To Valioth, Tiasheth absorbs these sensations, gratitude swirling up again in a soft rush of sunlight and falling leaves. How valiant he is to rush to their protection! Unsure whether to embrace the idea of a shared kill in fierce delight or to shy away from it with a strange sense of underlying horror, she leaves that untouched, sending instead a whispering wind in an attempt to be reassuring. They are unhurt; all shall be well. "Don't make me think about it!" A'riste exclaims, still a little breathless. "I'll have to come up with an answer and then V'delin is doomed!" Valioth flips his wings shut and his eyes whirl more slowly, and in a much more pleasant shade of blue. V'delin looks after where Imirath departed, unable to supress his usual reaction regarding Imirath: chagrin. His eyes widen toward A'riste, then narrow, unable to tell if the harper-rider is speaking in jest, or not. "Wouldn't be so funny if you ever had to do it," he comments quietly. About that time, the older bronze wings in, landing near the gate, the herdbeast barely twitching in his jaws. As an exceedingly skewed apology, he offers the appetizer, dropping it into the dirt with a chuff, where it remains on its side, unmoving. To Tiasheth, Mikhuth feels this sunlight to trickle into his mind, streaking through the smoke and touching lightly against him. Where it pierces the smoke, it dissipates; where it falls into fire, it calms. About though there's still a tenacious trembling of anger: « B't -- » soon enough it, too, fades, giving in to the warmth of Tiasheth's mind. « Yer right. 's all good. » To Imirath, Tiasheth is unaccepting of the older dragon's logic, but allows the slowing heartbeats to calm her and Paige, however slightly. To his query, there's a loud, resistant splash from some distant brook. « Exciting? Quite the contrary, I assure you! /That/ was /frightening/. » To Tiasheth, Imirath keeps up the slowing heartbeats, melodic and regular thumpings that calm througout. « Perhaps I misjudged. One day, may you enjoy the thrill of the hunt, the fire of the chase, the triumph in rending your kill for yourself. » Mild disappointment, then withdrawing droplets of water fly upward in a slowed-motion, until even the heartbeats have faded into silence. "And the one thing Mickey had in mind -" As thought there was some dearth of guts at the feeding grounds. But D'kai frowns anyway, looking over at the fawny bronze, who rumbles and half-lids his yellow-green spinning eyes. "Well, there's always tomorrow. And other dragons." Like, you know, not Imirath. And speak of the devil! Mikhuth lifts his head to observe the older bronze's return, tweaking his tail and snorting back in response to Imirath's chuff. "Oh, look. He's sorry, Paige." Because that's what that particular type of Imirath-gift means, isn't it? Tiasheth doesn't spare the dead beast a single glance, tail curling firmly about her as she continues to hover over Paige. "Or next month, and other dragons, " Paige says weakly, but her attempt to crack a joke rather dies right then and there as Imirath deposits the dead beast nearby. Peeking about from behind her green, the girl's eyes settle on the herdbeast momentarily, expression unreadable. "S'nice, " she says at last, "but thank ya. She ain' hungry, now." Still looking mighty uncomfortable, she ducks back behind her dragon, taking deep breaths. A'riste tilts his head at V'delin, his eyes a little wide and rather bright. "Don't look at me like /that/, V'delin," he drawls, his voice dragging each word out, exceedingly arch. "Your boy hasn't betrayed you yet." Valioth eyes the kill, and then edges forward boldly to nose at it. Not so threatening now, huh?! Imirath regards Valioth intently, backing away from the dropped beast with his eyes still whirling in captivated fascination. Ven levels a flat gaze toward A'riste, one brow quirked. "Irk, bother, annoy, yes. Betray, no." Assuredness is in those few words, words that cause his shoulders to tense and their companions to become almost invisible. "Good afternoon," he shortly adds, climbing over the fence and securing the gate now that he's on the outside once more. With a brisk head nod, he strikes out across the bowl, not lingering further. Imirath, after watching a little longer, turns his back on the kill and departs, unfed. V'delin has left. "It'll be different when it's our own," Deke says, a hint of hope tinging his words. "I mean - we cut up meat for them now but it'll be - easier when they can catch their own. More time for -" pause, "- lessons and stuff." His lips quirk as V'delin turns and leaves, and the lad's eyebrows twitch in surprise. Mikhuth, spurred on by Valioth's own bravery, perhaps, pushes to his feet and paces nearer to the dead herdbeast. Yeah! The young bronze nudges a leg. Take that! A'riste's smile fades, and he whirls away, toward Valioth, who simply starts to tear into the herdbeast. His technique is only passable, but he knows what to do from having observed older dragons doing the same, and soon his muzzle is bloodied and dripping-- but instead of eating the meat, he offers a chunk to Tiasheth. His rider doesn't flinch, for some reason; he holds rather still, his expression flickering between different things as he shares the sensations of his dragon's first almost-kill. "I'm sure it'll -- " Paige begins, but breaks off to stare at Valioth, transfixed as he tears into the herdbeast. The action captures Tiasheth's attention, too; as the bronze emerges with a chunk, bloodied and dripping, the green regards the sight for a long moment before taking a few steps forward to accept the offered bit. And her human counterpart seems rooted to the spot, expression one of flickering uncertainty. Suddenly, she just takes off, away from the group, running for the other end of the bowl. Tiasheth does not eat the chunk of meat, oddly enough, but holds it carefully in her mouth before dropping it gently into the grass between the two bronzes. Like her girl, she, too, walks away, but visibly heads for the barracks. Mikhuth watches this tableau with a tilt to his angular head, thoughtful, as he takes a few steps back from the carcass and out of Valioth's way, quietly observing the offering of meat to Tiasheth and then Paige's flight and the slight green's withdrawal. Well, if she's not going to eat it - he neatly plucks the hunk of meat from the grass and tosses back his head gulp! it's gone. D'kai stands, brushing off his pants, and then frowns after Paige, then, silently, over to A'riste. |
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