Logs:Dragon Fight! Dragon Fight!
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| RL Date: 4 November, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Vhaeryth and his rider want to see Iesaryth and hers, post-Weyrwoman's death. Hraedhyth takes issue. |
| Where: The Skies over High Reaches |
| When: Day 28, Month 2, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions |
| The tide is dark and stormy, so dark, darker than it's ever been, even when Iesaryth chooses to sulk, or be offended on her rider's behalf. So it's nothing Vhaeryth's ever seen before. But the exhaustion that edges around her seems familiar, just from long, long ago. There's a trace of smoke on salt-sea air, but the winds are so strong, they almost immediately gust it away. Images flash like her fish, some hers, some her rider's, some disturbing. « Ysavaeth is gone. Aishani found her rider. » Somber enough for her full name. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Not even the night is that dark, not yet, Vhaeryth sliding through the Timor-lit vastness in the wake of earlier's drills. There had been turbulence from the Reaches, trickled over one dragon at a time. Discomfort. Uncertainty. Vhaeryth's waited, willingly if not precisely patiently, and now he reaches back to Iesaryth in a certain clasp. He has strength: he can give her more. He doesn't have words to go with it, really, Ysavaeth never more than an alien queen to report to like the bronze her mate. But Iesaryth and her rider... « We come. » It's no decision. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) She's even apologetic for the uncertainty and the waiting, for all that it was - seemed - necessary at the time; there were so many thoughts, so much to pay attention to, to blanket with the silence of the ocean's depths. And Iesaryth is so appreciative for the strength - and even more so for the immediate shift in course, the lack of decision, though... That smoke still lingers, fires still rage. « Hraedhyth. » The queens protect the Weyr, keep outsiders out. Rielsath, perhaps, but Hraedhyth? (Though she can't help but let a little thread of crushing guilt slip by, her rider in the dark.) (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) She begins to be apologetic, he brushes past, /shows/ her how that's not required: she's spent her effort on so much already, she needn't sooth him as well. He comes. And he's warned, so... (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) No loud /pop/ into nothingness, no announcement to Cadejoth and Ysavaeth. Just, in the distance of the Reaches evening, a dragon flying inward with purpose. Not sneaking. (Exactly.) He's been /invited/. (In a way.) (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth and Hraedhyth) Unrest has fallen over the weyr. Those who are able to sleep have done so with the help of drink, or find it fitful and unsatisfying. Hraedhyth is far more in tune with her surroundings than she should be, dozing on her ledge. It's a trickle of familiar unfamiliarity that has eyes snapping open, instantly red as her gaze confirms the dark shape in the sky. Szadath will get a rude awakening as the queen viciously untangles herself, bulk thrown into the sky with a roar to wake the heavens. « INTRUDER. » (Hraedhyth to Vhaeryth and Iesaryth) Oh, fabulous. Iesaryth might have given Vhaeryth a warning, but even that doesn't prepare the other gold for her sister's reaction; the roar and leap into the air is enough to send her flying after, sunny gold following tawny one, so she doesn't go /killing/ the bronze. « Hraedhyth! Not NOW! » (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth and Vhaeryth) Pity N'rov: he's the one who'd been leaning out from Vhaeryth's neck, impatient to look down and see... and thereby one who's the victim of Vhaeryth's painfully, instinctively sharp swerve... then followed by a slower, still definitive pace straight for the foreign queen. Peaceable? Ostensible. Deliberate? Yes. « You /know/ us, Hraedhyth. We come for Iesaryth only. » There's the touch of salt-sea winds on him: can she smell them? Will she slow for them? His bona fides... beyond the even better ones winging right after her. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth and Hraedhyth) « YES. NOW. » Hraedhyth raises voice and drums to her 'little' sister. At least, with the other gold's interruption, she has it a mind to only graze Vhaeryth. Not with claw or teeth, but air as she goes hurtling past him, making a wide circle back towards her foreign target. There's no rhyme or reason, not with muscles that ache and head pounding with the beat of her own wardrums. War has been declared on all outsiders- and Vhaeryth falls into that catagory. This time, she doesn't look to miss and has gained even more speed. « GET OUT. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME. YOU COME FOR NO ONE. SHE IS OURS. » Iesaryth can be as pissed as she like, a few weeks seniority is being used to its advantage. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth and Vhaeryth) Ours. OURS. Iesaryth can't /stand/ that, the reaction is instinctive even when it's not Cadejoth doing the claiming. She banks to fly past Hraedhyth, wings buffeting winds the other gold's way. It's only her rider - and her own sudden shame at making a /scene/ right /now/ - that has her disengaging, decamping to the Starstones, though not without a bellow at the other gold. What is your /problem/. GOD. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth and Hraedhyth) Loud. She is really, really, /really/ loud. And even with the tumult of emotion that still hangs so thickly over the Weyr, even with the push of air for which Vhaeryth is absolutely not sitting still so he can have another... it's tempting: to rely on his own skill and dodge the war-drum queen as she comes by, claws or no claws, to keep dodging until he can wear her out (or get /taken/ out). There's a taste of that that Iesaryth at least might feel... but there she goes and, reluctantly, there /he/ goes. Starstones. Surely that's far enough? He'll hover above Iesaryth, in case, and never mind his rider thumping his fist against the bronze's neck. And maybe if Hraedhyth goes, he can dart in, play the 'what about /here/' game... « If /you/ feel we should go, after all, then we shall go, » he tells Iesaryth, quite audibly to those nearby. And now N'rov's rolling his eyes. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth and Hraedhyth) There is little to tether Hraedhyth's temper, her flower chain weak and wilted- fermented, much like her rider's insides at this point. Iesaryth's roar isn't ignored, jaws parted and frothing, spittle flying at the force of her response. The red in her gaze deepens as the bronze avoids but does not leave, the brawny queen pushing her luck as she invades the airspace above Iesaryth in order to continue her chase. It's his blatant disrespect, that he has so little care for her territory in turmoil that finally has the queen giving him a mental shove. « LEAVE. » She'll throw him from the sky if she has to, circling even higher above the two. Even if Iesaryth wishes to battle wills- Hraedhyth won't give them any peace. (Hraedhyth to Vhaeryth and Iesaryth) Far below, there's a blanket-wrapped figure on a ground ledge, staring up at the sky. If her expression could be seen, it would be 'are you fucking kidding me?' Though Iesaryth is likely getting the full brunt of that, she's not moving until all of this is sorted out. Though Vhaeryth might get some of that sense trickling down; something Brieli might share with his rider. Commiseration. Hraedhyth's inability to calm down and/or listen to reason is not a surprise, even if she were hopeful for it. The night is so dark over ocean's waves. But, before the other gold decides to get physical; « Go, Vhaeryth. We will find you tomorrow. » And maybe Hraedhyth will be better tomorrow - that's always possible too. Possible. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth and Vhaeryth) What happened to its being Iesaryth's space? Huh? That shove thuds at Vhaeryth and while his mental wall blocks the worst of it, the hammer-to-metal blow /reverberates/. (If his getting that much more of Hraedhyth's attention may make it easier for those dragons down there who aren't as squashed by her demands, it's nothing to the forefront of his mind. No, it's turtl... pride all the way down.) He battles it out until Iesaryth speaks. Then, « Tomorrow, Iesaryth, » and a dip of the wingtip to her and hers later... the bronze doesn't fly away. But he does vanish. And isn't that what she's looking for? (Vhaeryth to Hraedhyth and Iesaryth) It isn't until he's gone that Hraedhyth's noise begins to dim, and it's a slow process at that. She wings away from the sunnier gold but continues to circle the weyr, just in case the sneaky, slimy bronze tries to slither his way back in. Ten minutes. Twenty. It's near an hour until the gold lands on her ledge and tries to get tensing, twitching muscles under control. Eventually, smoke will carry an unobtrusive whisper to Iesaryth: Sorry. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth and Vhaeryth) Still /disbalanced/, though a little more settled in herself for having to fly and argue about something that isn't /awful/, Iesaryth can allow, to Vhaeryth, a little bit of secret pleasure that he would risk Hraedhyth shoving him around High Reaches' skies to see them. She doesn't allow that to her rider, at all, Shan would disapprove as she already does, 'what a /scene/, Iesaryth', on and on. But still. And she'll sit on the Starstones as long as Hraedhyth flies - but apologies are met with a spray of salty froth, chilly. There's hers to worry about and the other gold didn't make /that/ easier either. GOD. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth and Hraedhyth) Well, then, he'll just have to risk that more often. Or something. Certainly it's good for puffing up Vhaeryth's chest in an 'it was totally worth it' sort of way, and by way of solidarity, he can sit on his Star Stones too. It'll be almost like they're together! (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Almost. Sort of. Only Vhaeryth probably doesn't have angry stupid Hraedhyth circling around and ruining Iesaryth's life. Her sulking might actually make her forget about all the awful for a bit, so in that, as well, he's helpful. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) |
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