Logs:Fine
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| RL Date: 16 July, 2011 |
| Who: Taikrin, Teris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Taikrin is good at getting drunk when people die. |
| Where: Iskiveth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
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| It's after dinner but Teris hasn't left her weyr, or her ledge, rather, since she came here from the infirmary. In fact, she probably hasn't moved from where she's currently curled up against Iskiveth's chest between the gold's forelegs while the dragon keeps a quietly concerned watch over her rider. There are no fires blazing from the brazier but for now Teris seems immune to whatever chill creeps in around Iskiveth's warmth. Long sweeps have been the order of the day for Taikrin and Szadath, gone since morning on Glacier business. It's a normal sweep, and not a punishment run, which saw them well away over the hinterlands of Tillek. But they're back now, and their first stop is a backwing to Iskiveth's ledge. The last month has melted whatever extra flesh Taikrin was wearing away; it's a lean brownrider indeed who strides towards the queen and her rider, Szadath crowding on her heels. Uncharacteristically quiet, she calls, "Teris?" It's not Teris that answers, instead Iskiveth that seems torn between keeping callers away and greeting Szadath with a low warble of uncertainty. Taikrin must be included by association. The goldrider doesn't move and when she finally speaks up to say something it's only, "We don't need anything." The 'go away' isn't said but it seems to be implied. « Stay. » Iskiveth says all too quickly. Where Taikrin grows uncertain, Szadath wears his stolid confidence like a shield. He moves to rest beside Iskiveth, leaving enough space that she might not feel crowded, only seeking contact with the very end of his tail against hers. "Good thing I ain't tryin' to bring you something," Taikrin jokes, weakly, before growing more serious. "Heard about it, when we got off shift. Are you--" She breaks off, scowling at the inanity of the question, then tries a different tact. "Iskiveth holdin' up okay?" « I'm fine, » says Iskiveth as though she expects Szadath to relay the message for her without bothering her rider about it. "I'm fine," echoes Teris dully anyway, clearly anything but what she claims. But she's never been any good at dealing with emotions. At least she shifts her head enough to actually look at Taikrin. Even in the fading light it's easy to see the affect today has had on her, paler skin than usual except for where it's splotched red from crying. "Iskiveth is fine," she adds and the gold rumbles agreement. « I know, » Szadath replies, quietly sure of that fact, at the same time that Taikrin says, "Good to hear she's holdin' up." She shifts a step foward, arms folding across her chest, and offers a ghost of her half-smile. "I didn't-- got you a skin of the good stuff, but I left it up on my weyr. I could get it, or--" Lips purse briefly, then she changes her attack again, explaining, "Find it helps-- skin or two of wine, talkin' about it, about him. Might help, a little." Teris focuses on Taikrin with an odd sort of intensity. She wants to be strong, stubborn, not give anyone a reason to pity her, but she can't hide that haunted pain in her eyes. "I could use a drink," she finally admits but there's no relief in the way that she says it. "There's wine inside. If you don't want to go." Except that she seems to have no intention of moving from where she's currently curled up. Iskiveth stays mostly silent but the comforting hearth fire of her presence extends to Szadath as her tail twitches against his. "Happy to get some." A little of the tension drains of of Taikrin's body at the goldrider's acceptance, though she remains quite serious otherwise. "Gettin' cold out here," she wheedles. "Why don't you come in with me? Have some drinks, you can tell me stories-- or I can tell you some, if y'like. Got plenty." There's something of the gallows there, in her implicit statement: she's known plenty who have died. Teris is more than a little hesitant to leave the comfort of her dragon's touch at first but Iskiveth must push a bit from her side, too. Soon enough, the goldrider moves from her cramped position, reaching out for Taikrin's hand to help her make her way inside. She pays no attention to the weyr itself, just points Taikrin toward the wine and continues her way to her sleeping chambers. It's a good place for stories and warmth and drinking more than Teris probably ever has in the past. |
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