Logs:Familiar Dragons
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| RL Date: 27 July, 2013 |
| Who: Ebeny, Reesa |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Reesa has some questions for Ebeny regarding the mysterious Bollian visitors. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 5, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ysmila/Mentions, Jivrain/Mentions |
| The Weyrlingmaster's office has seen better days. Much of the rubble within and outside the weyrling complex has now been moved, at least as much as is needed to clear a path through, and though the office itself sustained only partial damage, everything within is covered in dust and the doorway has become a jagged, dangerous mouth of rock. Rocks have crashed through the desk, which lies in the heap in which it fell, and there are still files and folders to be cleared from the drawers of the desk itself and other storage units. Today is the first time that Ben has managed to make herself step foot into her old office, the door back to her weyr and what remains of the one leading to the weyrling complex left wide open as obvious escape routes. She stands among the wreckage, pulling hides and papers from where they've been pinned. There might have been a sense of Khiabeth, earlier, mingled in the minds of the curious dragons listening to the tale Saverenth and Laurienth spun. But strangely, for the green, silent. It's not until afternoon that Reesa - dressed in one of her colorful summer dresses - appears at the Weyrlingmaster's elbow. "Want a hand?" which is about as selfless as Reesa's ever been, which probably means: "Khiabeth was telling me the dragons were talking about some visitors at Boll earlier?" Reesa's voice makes Ben jump, her gaze instinctively lifting towards the ceiling despite common sense dictating that no /voice/ is likely to come from the ceiling, nor is such a sound the sort of thing that could bring the ceiling down around them both. "I..."she starts to reply, trying to bring quickened breaths under control, "...You don't have to stay in here." It makes no sense at all, except that that is very much probably what /she/ wants to be told. "You can try and rescue some of the files, if you like," she amends, when her brain kicks in again. "Rest day, besides those sweeps I owed Mina, so..." So she's not staying longer than she can bear it. It'd be hard for Reesa not to notice Ebeny's jump, and it makes her mouth twist briefly in sympathy. "If I help, it'll go quicker. Then they can clean this whole thing out, and fix it." The greenrider is nothing if not practical, even if her /clothes/ aren't quite so much- she's climbing over some of the rubble and she scrapes her skin as she makes her way to one of the cabinets. "Must've been some favor," the blonde notes with amusement. "...Think they're going to have to build a shell inside all this or relocate the whole barracks," Ben murmurs, bending down to begin battle with one of the broken drawers of the desk. "The weyrlings won't want to sleep here again. We can only hope there're no clutches for a while; maybe people will forget a little before anyone has to live here." Something inside the structure of desk and drawer must have been crushed, for there's a clunking noise as she tries to manipulate the drawer into opening. "Wasn't half as exciting as Sareventh was making out," she says dryly. "Saw half a dozen dragons on the fireheights, then came home." "The weyrlings'll be flying on their dragons by the time we get all this sorted out," is Reesa's opinion on the subject. "I'm sure they wouldn't object to getting their own weyrs sooner, either." She dusts some dirt off her dress with a distinct sort of frown, and only belatedly begins to wrestle with some rocks to uncover some of the buried files. "She's prone to exaggeration," Sareventh presumably, "But- you /did/ see dragons?" that earns a look of the blonde's eyes in Ebeny's direction. "Half a dozen dragons randomly hanging out on Boll's fireheights doesn't seem weird to you?" "It could take up to half a turn to complete construction, if not more, depending on what the Weyrleaders decide," Ben agrees, some small jot of fear at being confined in a place too familiar trickling over into rage as she kicks at the drawer, which collapses, wood splintering. "There were definitely dragons," she confirms, glancing up at Reesa and then right away again, ashamed of having surrendered to that urge to /kick/. "It's not /normal/, but it's not /exciting/ either," is her opinion. "What's /more/ interesting is that they wouldn't talk to us." There's a minor furrow of Reesa's brow- the other greenrider's mood not going unnoticed by the blonde. "A six month break doesn't seem so bad. You can spend it lounging on a beach in Ista." Maybe that's what /she/ is planning with the time she usually spends with the weyrlings. Shifting more rocks earns grunting noises- she's not exactly the most muscled of riders. Finally, she picks up and dusts off some files, which she begins to stack into a careful pile. "Oh?" casually. "Shy dragons- that's a new one. They could be Telgarians. They're an odd lot." "Or looking after my three kids," Ben wryly proposes as an alternative, oblivious to the fact that she's claimed all three of the babies she birthed as hers, rather than just the two. Another moment's battle with the desk wrenches the drawer free and sends a collection of hides, papers, ribbons, laces and all sorts down onto the dusty floor. "What would Telgar want with Jivrain? ...What would anyone really want with him, after all he's tried to do?" Though she does look vaguely guilty for that remark. "Maybe it's a prime sunbathing spot. Laurienth swore they looked familiar, but she's apt to do that just to be contrary." The normally sharp-witted Reesa doesn't seem to catch that particular slip, perhaps as much because she's busy unsuccessfully trying to shift a larger rock. Eventually she gives in with a grunt, "One of the dragons'll have to move that one. Or- a couple of burly bronzeriders." That seems to cheer her up immensely, giving the rock a triumphant look like it's just been bested. "What would anyone want with him," the other greenrider echoes by way of dismissive agreement on the score of the Bollian Lord. "Familiar?" this gets a curious look. Ben looks up from pawing through what needs to be rescued of the drawer's contents to eye the rock that won't be moved, conceding defeat with a nod of acknowledgement. "Well, from her, 'familiar' could mean anything from Fortian, to interesting, to Reachian," she has to concede with an awkward little shrug, carefully shuffling all she needs to keep together into a pile that she sets aside. "The Reaches /was/ helping the Hold at one point, though I don't think that she could actively remember many Reachian dragons anymore, apart from Arekoth and some of her other clutchsiblings." "Well, that's no help. That's a good thousand-and-a-half dragons or so to choose from." Reesa makes a noise that's part dismissive, and a little bit... content? No, that's the wrong word- but it's probably just rock-triumph lingering in her voice as she pulls free some more papers to stack on top of her (admittedly small) pile. "I haven't dealt with Reachians much- are they that rude?" to not answer, presumably. "Depends if they still see a rift between the Reaches and Fort, I guess," Ben replies with another little shrug, reaching to start breaking open another drawer by whatever means necessary. It'd be better if she reached with her good hand, but it's her cast and splinted arm that she uses, making her recoil with a yelp of pain when she tries to tug the drawer free. A whimper of a noise escapes her lips as she cradles her wrist, any curses swallowed down or smothered into her own collarbones. "...Most of my family are still at the Reaches. Some of the riders can be a bit... abrupt, but I'm sure you could say the same of here." That yelp of pain is enough to draw Reesa over, with a look that - doubtlessly copied from those that she's seen Ebeny herself bestow on an errant weyrling a time or two - is disapproving. "Let me do it, unless you /want/ to get lectured by the healers about not being careful." A gesture towards the stuck drawer, and then she frowns. "Riders aren't the dragons, though. Still, I'm sure it was nothing." Ben steps aside after only a moment's hesitation, bending down to bring her pile of saved records and so on with her, the little pile planted on a nearby rock. "Riders /can/ silence a dragon, though," she puts to her fellow greenrider, determinedly staring at the floor and /not/ the ceiling. "Dragons are much more social than people, for the most part. Less judgemental. Some of them practically put together a whole welcoming party for strangers," the Weyrlingmaster thinks aloud. "Silent /dragons/ isn't a great sign. Chatty dragons on fireheights, fine. But /silent/ ones?" Even with a non-broken arm, Reesa's struggling to open the broken drawer; it's only after some yanking and bracing a foot against the bottom that she manages to get it open, nearly unbalancing herself in the process. Flipping her hair as if she totally meant to do that, she reaches in to retrieve the files from inside, setting them on top of the drawer. "Khiabeth's chatty," she acknowledges, "And some dragons are more taciturn than others. But, even if there was something up, what would you do? Go and knock on Jivrain's door and ask him what's up? From all I hear you're as likely to get the Weyr banned from his skies as get an answer." Wincing as Reesa nearly unbalances herself, Ben murmurs thanks and admits, "You wouldn't catch me going to talk to Jivrain at all," with her next breath. "Not my place. I can instruct a weyrling how to talk to Lords and Ladies, but I'd much rather someone else did the actual talking to that sort." Is it an illusion or is the Weyrlingmaster really taking shallower and quicker breaths than she was earlier? "Besides, he's too unpredictable and prone to doing whatever he pleases. Turn up bearing a gift on a bad day and he could cut off our tithe." Exaggerating surely, but by now she's babbling, eyeing the door back to her weyr. "Me either," Reesa's all-too-quick to agree. "Not something I'd be keen on doing. /Holders/." With a certain amount of heat. Leaning against the drawer for a bit, she eyes her fellow greenrider kind of knowingly. "I can finish up here, if you want to check up on the weyrlings in my place. If I hear another of them babbling about cleaning up after their dragons I'm going to scream." It's probably mostly exaggerated just to give the Weyrlingmaster an excuse... but then it's Reesa, so there's a chance it's not, either. Rest day or not, it seems Ben will take that out whether Reesa means it to be one or not. She gathers up the papers that she's so far managed to retrieve, pinning them to her with a folded-arm embrace as she gives a wobbly smile that she doesn't even try to pretend is a more confident affair. "Thanks," she says quietly. "Some of the stuff just won't be moved, so... don't hurt yourself over it. And don't stay longer than you have to." Whether there's a chance that Reesa will or won't, Ben remains oblivious to any mirroring her fears onto others. "Thanks." Again. Then she's off through the door to her weyr, closing it behind her. "It's fine." Reesa, for her part, sounds entirely confident and /not/ at all worried, as she begins tugging at the next drawer. "I might even drag in some help, just to keep things fun. I'll leave these on your ledge?" A vague gesture to the other files she's collected, and a last glance after Ebeny as she disappears. Maybe Ben hears that question. Maybe she doesn't. Whatever the case, unfortunately there's no answer. At least Reesa won't see her /run/ through her weyr to the outside world. Small mercies, so far as embarrassment goes. |
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