Logs:Fast
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| RL Date: 17 February, 2016 |
| Who: Khajith, Lythronath |
| Type: Log |
| What: Shortly after the hatching, Lythronath is playing dad. Khajith is just playing. |
| Where: Bowl and Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: So very backdated. |
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| It's night. N'klas, because he's that now, is trying to sleep. But there's also a rustling in the almost-dark, a rummaging, because a sevenday old means sleeping in the daytime, not at night. The rustling from outside is bigger. Deeper. Large fiery wings that don't quite glow in the light of the moons, strong talons disappearing in the darkness, but still smothering the dirt. The glint of teeth when the pointed bronze muzzle is raised, the change in air when Lythronath sniffs. And the mental brush, surprisingly gentle and proud, for such a monster. Tiny talons curl. Tiny talons shine, not their dusty tips but the arc of them, beneath the balancing blueness of the dragonet himself. Yes, blue. Yes, turning; curious; inquisitive, a splash of transparent color as he turns not inward but out. Those wings may not glow, but Khajith will still go, go and look and find. Babies don't have colours. Silly baby. Daddy-Lythronath is not hard to find. He is outside. Right outside. Immediately outside. Waiting, as he has well nearly every night since the hatching. Somehow, he manages to raise the pitch of those clicks. The muzzle lowers to just above ground level. The eyes are green. And whorled with blue. His eyes are so big, they could be Timor and Belior come down to nearly-earth, the moons' disparate sizes explained by the angle: how is a tiny baby dragon supposed to see them equally at the same time? Khajith goes right up, not straight on but from the side he's coming from, up on his hind legs with his wings back and his nose up. Click clack... clack clack click? Those clicks speed up, almost a trill, but losing support and disappearing into quiet. Because his brothers and sisters - some of them, anyway - are still sleeping. Shhhh. Shhh, and so, « Khajith, » all warm and deep and comforting and happy, is only for that little baby dragon. Just like the puff of air that exits Lythronath's nostrils, aimed for little wings. Thrilled, the baby's thrilled by that near-trill, and: click! Except the big dragon, his sire, is slowing and stopping and Khajith might not stop except his name catches him up, said like that, just for him. Khajith turns a little, so that that warm air might better get his right wing and then his left... right before his muzzle reaches higher to try and poke the big-bigger dragon's jaw. 'Lythronath' is less word than saltwater-splash upon rock, and shine. During that push of air, inspection; Lythronath watches those wings, first right, then left, the colours of each eye moving as he adjusts focus. His big jaw opens a little, the lower part of it brought nearer Khajith. For poking. And those comet-blazed wings stretch out, slowly, but moving for full expansion. Showing. Prompting. Khajith can do this. It doesn't take thinking twice, this strrretch. The poke's a poke-- a bump, really, it's just that his muzzle is pointy and that's what happens-- and the stretch stretches. His eyes whirl swiftly, sparking with brightness. Now, what now? Good. Khajith is awarded a click. Next, Lythronath stretches his front talons forward - and folds his wings back down, simultaneously. When the motions are completed, a tap to the little one with his jaw issues the challenge. Khajith gets a click! This next thing, though... he could do it, he's pretty sure he could, but why? Why would he ever fold his wings when he doesn't have to? His eyes on his sire, Khajith extends his forelegs and his talons with them, curling, curling, while his wings only gradually start to fold and even then it's with little twitches. It's not like his talons. Seizing something, even air, is good and natural and Khajith. A little nudge to the little blue's head again, with the bottom of that terrible jaw. Lythronath again extends his wings. And folds them. Smoothly. The little blue sighs, a small sigh that can't wait to be ferocious, and out! go his wings. Another breath later, in they go again, s-l-o-w-l-y. Better. Enough so that Lythronath's wings stay down, flat. His hind legs stretch upward, while he settles forward on the front ones, crouched, head lowered as much as it can be. Can little Khajith see his tail swing, back and forth, the tip moving so fast, the base, slow and steady, while little clicks accent the apex of each swing? Oh yes! Yes, Khajith's seeing it, is-- after the first dart of his head tracking the movement-- scampering around to try and catch that tail-tip, never mind if it's far too high. He is careful, so very careful, a kind of careful that would shock those who haven't watched him with his little dragonets. Lythronath lowers that tail, just a little, and slides his feet in a slow, slow turn. To make Khajith do laps. To see. Maybe both. Khajith will do laps, yes he will. And then, after a few... when Lythronath is getting far enough... crouch and race in the other direction, the better to try and catch in time. Lythronath tries to move the tail to add to the speed, but those wicked feet of his, those stay well under control. Little dragons are little. Soon enough, « Khajith! » bubbles into words, well pleased. « Fast. » That leads to a surprised hop! the words aglow with pleasure: treasure. « So fast, » Khajith agrees, such incentive, his bright eyes up to his sire's once more, his tongue lolling as he pants. On this last turn, Lythronath stretches out that powerful neck, and goes to push the little blue, to stop him or guide him toward those barracks again, with that angular, hunter's head. Three clicks, for Khajith now, and a low noise that follows, something of a hum. Wiry little Khajith's denser than he might initially appear, but that doesn't mean much against a bronze's snout; he goes skittering sideways and then sliding and then it's claws out scritching stone and... then, all right, he does follow momentum into the barracks but it's with a glance over his shoulder, a flicker of his tail that teases a catch-me-if-you-can. Click. |
Comments
Alida (17:26, 18 February 2016 (PST)) said...
DeLIGHTful! <3
Roz (12:04, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said...
Ohai. So cute.
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