Logs:Dragon Wounds and Weavercraft
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| RL Date: 16 January, 2014 |
| Who: Lilah, E'ten |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 10, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
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| Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr(#241RJs$)
Adiulth Obvious exits: Bowl Infirmary
Lilah can be quiet when she wants, perhaps having learned the trait during her tenure as a drudge and wishing to slip through the nooks and cranies of Fort Weyr unheard. When she speaks, it's from the entrance that connects this weyr to the rest of the infirmary, her question a curious, "Better injured, or better losers?" She has a jar in hand, a spot of turquoise-hued clay against the drab grey of her Dice uniform that blends her into the surrounding around her, if it weren't for the lick of flames that constitute red-gold hair, catching on any available light. "The healers though you might need numbweed. I brought it to you for them." She moves, straightening away from the curve of the entrance to draw closer to the bronze dragon and E'ten by default. "How is he?"
"Adiulth," greets Lilah, a show of deference for the beast that she's hardly ever shown for any man, and she draws close with more curiosity for the wounds displayed against bronze hide than fear of the dragon. She holds out the jar as an excuse for being so near, but her gaze drifts towards Adiulth's healing wounds. "Is this another time that you'd rather not tell me your own opinion on the matter? Nothing to be said about barely losing a leadership flight?" Her lips curve briefly, slowly into a knowing smile, disappearing again in a moment. "You would have driven me broke if you'd won. For my own cause, I have to say it was better that you were losers." Adiulth bobs his head in a manner of what his rider would do in the same situation before, E'ten catches the interest and gestures towards the injury where it's healing quite well. "I was a dragonhealer before becoming Hematite's wingsecond. Take a look, if you want. He won't mind," he says, stepping back before a knowing near-smirk tugs at his lips. "My opinion on the flight is, shall we say? Complicated. Although, if I would have won? Would it have caused that much of a stir," he asks, but it's not the final question as he begins to shrug into his jacket once placing the jar on the table beside him. "Are you going to tell me how the betting went between the forerunners?" "It went how I wanted it to go. Not an accurate assessment of who the Weyr thought was going to win," Lilah admits in a murmur, her own offer of information given even as she draws closer to that injured hindleg to examine it carefully without touching it. "Did it need stitches? I imagine applying stitched to an injured dragon would be quite the task." She almost reaches out to touch the unaffected edge of the wound, the heat from her fingertips brushing against bronze hide, but she draws back quickly enough. Instead, she adds, "I stopped taking bets on N'muir and took over my line on other riders. So, I suppose I bet on him myself."
Lilah shakes her head at the question, a casual gesture for all that it comes just slightly too quick, slightly too sharp. She dismisses lightly, "I have an interest in dragons. I've tried to impress before, but--." She lifts her fingers, flicking them in a dismissive gesture. But then she's offering a smile, a bright, warm thing that is almost flirtatious where it's turned onto E'ten. "But now that I have all of the marks, I need to figure out something to do with them. Maybe a new outfit. Faye is always getting something made from the weavercraft and--." Well, she glances briefly down to her usual outfit of the drab grey Dice uniform. "Color will be an improvement," E'ten finishes, pausing long enough to tuck the numbweed jar under one arm as he turns towards the bowl while Adiulth remains and quite willing to be seen after. "You might.." He might have also spotted the flirtatious smile. Or close to it. Either way, the advice stands. "Want to talk to Reesa. She also has an eye for dresses. The two of you might get along rather well... or she can tell you what styles are being talked about amongst the weavers." "I'll keep her in mind," Lilah assures him easily, that flirtatious edge sliding away as the moment passes. Instead, her gaze returns to Adiulth, even where E'ten start to move away. But she turns away quickly enough, joining E'ten towards the bowl. "Don't worry; I won't make you discuss weaver fashions with me. I have an errand to run, anyways." She moves to brush past the bronzerider, only calling back to him as she finds her own way across the bowl, "I hope Adiulth heals well." With the possible flirtation past, E'ten relaxes unseen as he lifts a hand in farewell while the other manages the jar with a brief laugh. "I endure a lot of weaver comments sometimes. But thank you. Adiulth says the same. Clear skies to you, Lilah!" |
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