Logs:Following The Rules
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| RL Date: 26 March, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'zin, Alida |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin and Rasavyth stumble upon Azaylia, who's decided to take her work outside. Alida joins them and both weyrlings ask difficult questions. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions, Hana/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. Spring may have sprung, but it's still not warm enough for folks to willingly splash in the lake, or to break out the shorts. Hraedhyth's large bulk is curled towards the thawing lake, keeping an eye on the few dragonets who have decided to brave the chill. Not that it's much felt through a dragon's hide, but their weyrlings don't seem as eager to get wet. Azaylia's back is propped up by her gold's tawny side, a shield against the cool wind that would otherwise send hide and papers flying. She's brought her work with her, wherry skulls acting as paperweights for the two piles sitting next to her, one bleached and the other painted in High Reaches' blue and black. Much like her dress, in fact, the skirt of it covering her legs which are tucked up beneath her, the goldrider wearing a soft look of concentration as she writes, clipboard in hand. As has become a fairly common sight since Hatching, Rasavyth and K'zin are strolling. The man's hands are tucked behind his back, brows furrowed, expression pensive. Rasavyth, as ever, seems at ease, his hide freshly oiled and glistening prettily when the sun winks out from behind the clouds. Their trajectory tells that they're just arriving to the lake from the barracks, and K'zin is pulled from whatever deep thinking he was doing by the interested croon of his lifemate, who's attention is, of course, on the fact that Hrae and her lifemate are here. Casual stroll becomes purposeful stride and they're soon close enough for K'zin to stop short, eying the skulls. Rasavyth seems unconcerned, warbling a friendly hello to the much, much, muuuuuch larger dragon. K'zin looks like he's seeking words and coming up blank, but finally he asks, "Did you paint that yourself?" Hraedhyth's watchful gaze shifts from splashing dragonets to the freshly oiled bronze, pale head snapping towards Rasavyth as he approaches. She offers her own greeting, oversized jaws parted in the savage growl that is mentally paired with dam's warm, welcoming touch. Azaylia is startled by the vibration at her back, hand flying off the edge of the page as her head jerks up, finding K'zin and his lifemate. "Oh. Waki." She greets, soft laugh aimed at herself, hand reaching up to smooth any loose hairs only to find... that there aren't any. An old habit from pre-hairdresser days, usual double buns present but now intricately braided to make escape near impossible. "I mean, K'zin. And hello to you to, Rasavyth. Yes, I did." Which may be why the lines on the skull are uneven, why the paint has dried thick in some places and thin in others. "Hraedhyth has always liked to keep trophies, and I try to make them... pretty. For our weyr." She stays seated for now, head looking up and angled with faint curiosity. Rasavyth's wings shift on his back, lifting slightly away from his body and resettling as the growl greets him. He's fairly unflappable, this bronze, but the movement might be indication that he's still getting used to his dam's particular brand of motherly affection. For all that though, his mind offers a reflection of her drums and fires as a mental recognition and greeting. He moves closer, and closer, and closer, until he's basically right up next to where her chest meets the ground, and there he turns about a few times before settling, tail and neck curled into a little bronze ball. He isn't against her, but when he breathes deeply, baby dragon hide might brush that of the bigger gold. K'zin's eyes glance briefly to the bronze as he does his spins in place, but Azaylia has the better part of his attention as he lingers awkwardly a few paces away. "Oh, that makes sense. It looks--" A skull with paint. "Nice." He doesn't sound convinced that that's how he feels. But then he's never seen some of the more rustic decor styles present in the herdbeast ranches of the Keroon plains, so the whole concept of bone-dried skills as decor is new to him. "Your hair is especially pretty today." This he sounds more certain of, eyes having followed her fingers as they went to smooth it down." He shifts, nervousness in his frame. "Look, I'm sorry about rushing off the other day. Ras was-- well, not being helpful. Only he thought he was. And... yeah. Sorry." Hraedhyth herself is difficult to surprise and yet Rasavyth manages it with all of that inching closer, meeting his mimicry with genuine flame and thoughtful rhythm. When he settles, there's a whuff of what could be amusement, the gold carefully, carefully resting her head atop one of her forelimbs. Her gaze is still on those in the lake, but she's allowing herself a fraction of cautious closeness with one of her brood. "It took some getting used to." Azaylia admits, placing her clipboard down and uncurling her legs, "I kind of like them, now." On legs that seem to have fallen asleep, she struggles for balance for only a moment, reaching back to dust off her behind. Truly, a lady. Quick to give credit where it's due, "That's all Hana's doing. Thank you, though." The weyrwoman's smile is strained for a moment, a pensive purse to her lips before she makes an attempt to see the culprit from over Hraedhyth's tall leg. "Aah. I wasn't going to bring it up, I... didn't know if it had been something I said. If anything, I'm sorry I haven't been around to talk more." A hand motions towards the stacks of papers near their feet. She's been busy. Rasavyth's mind is quiet today, sedate, and almost stately. Once he's settled, he doesn't move, other than to shift his head from one spot to another so he can watch the gold better as she lowers her head. "I'm sure they're lovely. Maybe you'll show me the rest sometime." K'zin says this casually, but then starts to stammer as implications pop to mind, "I mean, later, or never. I mean, you don't have to. I don't have to see your weyr." His cheeks flare red. Apparently whatever self-assurance the kiss in the galleries provided him has faded away in the month and a bit since it happened. "Shells. Sorry." What he's apologizing for this time (and whether it is an apology to Azaylia or to Rasavyth) is unclear. "Hana?" He latches onto the topic like a lifeline. "I didn't realize she was still around. I would've thought she would have left after Hatching with her lady?" Then there's that question to be answered and the blush brightens. "Honestly?" And poor, innocent K'zin almost always is. "Ras was enjoying how you were touching him. Enjoying it a lot. And when he shared it with me, he also suggested how I might enjoy-- well, similar-- with you-- and--" He glances down to his trousers, hands grasping together in front of the offending anatomy, "Everyone was there. So I ran." His expression is sheepishly apologetic. Hraedhyth is calm today, much like a well exercised beast tends to be. Her thoughts are still wild, but she makes it a point not to upset Rasavyth's own sedate mindscape. Azaylia bites back a smile at K'zin's sudden bout of nerves, "You know, my weyr is always open if you want to visit. Some warning would be nice, so I could prepare some tea or klah." But other than that, it isn't as if the weyrwoman is a secretive sort. Look at who crashes on her couch, after all. "K'zin," There's a teasing note to her airy voice, "You're worrying too much. Again." Other than that gentle reminder, she leaves the weyrling's anxieties alone. "Hana decided that she wanted to stay." For reasons that aren't hers to discuss, "I thought she would be happy working in the lower caverns, but she insisted on helping me with my hair and clothes. And keeping my meals on time and... she's very persistent." It seems that as important as some may see the goldrider, she's not terribly comfortable with the idea of a personal assistant. Her own discomfort is washed away by a mix of concern and humor, lifting a knuckle to hide her lips as they fluctuate between a smile and frown. "That... I suppose I shouldn't touch him anymore, if it causes you problems?" Concern wins out as she drops her hand, looking up at K'zin with a faint furrow in her brow. "He sounds... That doesn't seem normal. Are you sure it's not hurting him in some way?" There are rules for a reason. K'zin's hands slide into his pockets. "Sorry. I try not to, but..." He can't help but worry. Now he has a whole slew of new worries thanks to his abnormal lifemate. He clears his throat after a pensive moment of silence. His expression has turned a placid as his lifemate's mind, and his brown eyes are confident. He might be uncertain of their future interactions, but he's certain of his lifemate. "He's the one that started making dirty jokes in my head the day after he was shelled." This information is laced with good-humor. "I think-- I think all the rules that there are as weyrlings are there because it's true of the average dragon." One hand rises to run through his short locks, "Rasavyth is not the average dragon. The usual rules don't apply. I'll abide by them, of course. And there are ways, that he doesn't like to admit, in which he is still learning. Like his inappropriate sharing the other day. I think it's fine for you to touch him. He learns from his mistakes." The bronze warbles apologetically in Azaylia's direction, lifting his head slightly. He does know it was a mistake now. "But for the most part, he's not a baby. Not like the others. He's just waiting for his body to catch up with his brain." He rocks forward onto his toes then back onto his heels before saying, "Well, it's nice of her to want to help out. You... don't like it?" This comes out as a question, because he's clearly trying to understand the girl-feelings conveyed in her words, and having trouble. "Dirty jokes." Azaylia echoes with a touch of disbelief, but it only takes a second longer for her to accept it as truth. The weyrling has no reason to lie, after all. "As long as you follow the rules." K'zin's reassurance met with a recovering smile, "It's better to be safe than sorry. No telling what it might do to him, even if he thinks it won't effect him." A cautious glance is aimed at Hraedhyth's limb, trying to see through to the warbling Rasavyth on the other side. "If I'm remembering right, Iesaryth was a little like that. Knowing how to do something, before her body was ready." As for Hana, the weyrwoman folds her hands behind her back, looking almost as nervous as he for a moment. "It's not that I don't like it. I just... I'm used to doing everything myself. I always have. I don't like being a bother, or making extra work for other people." The curl to her lips turns somewhat sheepish, "Hana seems to really enjoy it, though." Just as she's not one to have things done for her, neither is she used to denying what she can give. "As long as she's happy, I'm happy. And it is nice, having my hair done in the morning." "I will follow that rule." Others? Not so much. K'zin takes a step closer, Ras' whirling eyes focused on his lifemate. The man's manner has changed from the nervous boy from the start of the conversation, perhaps thanks to silent coaching from a certain too-small-for-his-brain bronze. "Mostly," He begins slowly, his baritone dropping to a quieter more conspiratorial level, "Because you will follow that rule whether we want to or not." Then he leans close, feet conscious to be careful not to make a mess of her papers, and he whispers: "He doesn't think it won't effect him. He knows it will. He's as eager-" Or possibly more so! "-as I am." Then he's straightening with a cheeky smile for the goldrider, "But we-" We? He and Ras? We? He and Zee? "-will be good, and follow the rules." His eyes slip towards Rasavyth then to Azaylia's face, biting his lower lip as he tries to gauge her reaction to this new play in his playbook. "Rasavyth likes Iesaryth quite a lot. He says she understands him. He likes that. I'm sure Hana wouldn't do it if she didn't enjoy it. I just hope she's not--" He abruptly stops and shakes his head, dismissing the idea. It's probably crazy. "You're right. I will." There's suspicion in her gaze, in the curious tilt of Azaylia's jaw as K'zin steps closer, her hands falling to her sides. As he speaks, her palms find her hips, the tip to them less maternal and more bold. She's watching you. After his whisper, she lets out a slow breath, words touched with gentle annoyance. Not at the weyrling, but for her own strict observation of those rules, "There are so many things I could say to that." All of them good, or bad, given the fact that they go unsaid. After such a show of restraint, her hands are once more behind her back where they can do no harm. "Thank you. I know it's hard, sometimes." Does she ever. "I'm glad there's a dragon he can share his frustrations with. Hraedhyth was very much a baby when she hatched, and she's... not dumb. But a lot of what she does is based on how she feels. Instinct." The faint look of adoration leaves her, blinking up at the weyrling, "You hope Hana's not..?" Rasavyth and K'zin exchange a look. Probably a 'congratulations, you didn't get slapped!' or a 'well, no slaps, but no kisses either' sentiment shared between them in the look. "You can tell me all about them when I have my own weyr." The young man offers the goldrider with a smile, but he, too, is now behaving. "I'm glad he's found that kindred spirit in Iesaryth, also." If only he knew what the future might hold, perhaps he would not be so grateful. "Although, he wants me to get to know Br-er, Aishani more, as a result. I'm just-- I'm not so sure I want to." He bites his lip, "Sorry. I didn't mean that to come out badly. I know she-- is? Was? your friend? I'd heard you were pretty close as weyrlings." He looks a bit uneasy digging into this topic. A sigh heralds his response to her prompting, "That Hana's not a spy." There, he said it. "I mean, she seems really nice, but... wouldn't a spy? I just-- You know that noose got me worrying and--" And now he sees evil everywhere! Danger everywhere! At least for Azaylia. "I'm glad you let Bones sleep on your couch." Judging by the upward roll of he eyes and the bit to her lower lip, Azaylia intends to wait out more of those good-bad comments. "Oh, I will." Not a terrible slip up, but she is only human. Dark complexion keeps any flush from being too visible, the weyrwoman taking a moment to shift onto the other, less tempting topic. The discomfort remains, however, "It's alright. You're allowed your opinions." Her own may be difficult to figure out, words careful but certainly not praising the Acting Weyrwoman, "We were. I... didn't know about her real name. Who she was. Is. It's hard, being lied to like that. But, if you, or Rasavyth, want to get to know her better..." There's concern for the weyrling, a worry that's not too different from what she feels for the Weyr as a whole, "Maybe you should?" She tries not to grimace, there. "Bones sort of let himself sleep on the couch. I don't mind it." The goldrider's expression smooths into mild amusement, "I can't imagine that Hana is a spy." And her tone suggests a light scold, "Even if she were, which she isn't, what could she be spying on that I wouldn't just tell someone?" She doesn't imagine her own secrets are very interesting. "You have a point there." K'zin reaches up and scratches his head, looking a little sheepish now that Azaylia's pointed out the flaw in his 'Hana is a spy' logic. There's a snort from Rasavyth who is curled up on the ground a breath away from where Hraedhyth's chest meets the ground. The snort does not need mental translation. Rasavyth says: told you so, with that snort. K'zin stands in front of Azaylia and amid her papers on the ground from where she was working when he interrupted. There are other weyrlings about, some dragons braving the chilly waters, though the riders aren't eager to get wet. The sun is peeking in and out of the clouds. "Well, if she's a friend of yours, maybe I should especially. I'd like to get to know you better, and getting to know your friends is certainly one way to accomplish that. "Anything I ought to be careful of or advice you can give me? She's always seemed a bit-- intimidating to me." A soft laugh for Rasavyth's pointed snort, Azaylia standing between the wall that is Hraedhyth's side and K'zin with her arms behind her back. The gold is curled in an easy semi-circle, offering some privacy as the two talk. Azaylia's stacks of paperwork are weighed down with sizeable wherry skulls, one of which is painted black and blue. "I can understand why you might be suspicious." Who wouldn't be, given recent events? There's a sudden tension to the weyrwoman's shoulders, arms visibly flexing as unseen hands squeeze each other. "I wouldn't say..." She does her best to keep her words even, "Friends don't lie to each other. And I don't know that she really knows me." Hurt slips through, despite her best attempts. Her advice may fall short, because of it, "I don't know. She is the Acting Weyrwoman, so... be respectful?" It may not look good, one leader failing to understand the other. It's a decent early evening for a bath, and as such, Alida's pacing along with a growing Ilicaeth towards the lake shore, the blue striding along as if he owns the place, his carriage proud and confident. Notice the quickly-wheeling blue eyes as the two get closer to the lake. Someone's looking forward to this. As the little dragon is the first to notice his dam, then his sibling, 'caeth offers up a warble of greeting that sounds a bit bigger than it did previously...just like he is, then marching at a suddenly double-timed pace towards the pair. A soft snort and roll of eyes cue the blonde's increased pace, too, a hand lifted in non-verbal 'hello' to the dragons and their riders out beyond her. K'zin's hand reaches for Azaylia'a as she speaks of Aishani, but seeing as how her hands are behind her back, his hand ends up resting lightly on her hip, but only for a moment. His fingers squeeze gently, the way he would if he had indeed found her hand. It's an unspoken gesture of support. "Any thoughts on how to break the ice with her? It always seems to be particularly frigid in a room when I try to talk to her." His hand pulls away. He's not trying to be untoward, the concern in his face for her recent experiences with the other goldrider is sincere. K'zin's attention is pulled over his shoulder to see Alida approaching as Rasavth uncoils himself and with a yaaaawn gets to his feet. The warbled greeting is friendly, if lazy. His wings spread in a stretch, accidentally bumping his dam (not hard, just contacting before the unwieldy things are snapped shut and a sheepish bronze face is looking up to the gold. Oops. While the touch to her hip startles her, though Azaylia seems to understand the thought behind it as K'zin continues to go unslapped. The look she gives him is one of quiet gratitude, be it in the face of support or just sympathy. "I suppose... ask her about Iesaryth?" She won't deny him help, even if such generic advice would work with almost any dragonrider. "Or maybe ask about how she's feeling? I'm not happy with what she did and I'm not the only one." The other goldrider may not be having the easiest of times, not that Azaylia seems to know. Once Alida comes into view, she's given a polite wave and soft smile. Hraedhyth's head lifts at the sound of Ilicaeth's greeting, her own a low snarl that is meant to convey the same. Rasavyth's wing goes unnoticed until he's looking up at her, the gold's gaze dropping back down as she reassures him it's fine. She doesn't touch for fear of harming them, not that baby dragons need to worry about hurting her. As the blue-pair close, even Alida can see the gesture of support and affection K'zin offers Azaylia, and for a moment the blonde debates taking Ilicaeth somewhere else along the lake shore for his bath. And then 'hero worship' gets in the way, with the little blue giving his best bugel to Hraedhyth before his relative youth gets the upper hand, and makes him break into a lope to close the last dragonlength between himself and his dam. Skidding to a halt with tail twitching and claws flexing, 'caeth looks upupup into the gold's eyes - his own spinning a heady blue - and then hops forward one last bounding pair of feet to give Hrae a solid headbutt to whatever part of her is nearest. Of course, given their disparate sizes, the queen will likely hardly feel such, but the affectionate weyrling does, bouncing back off of his mother's hide a little, then shaking his head a couple of times. Alida's hand lifts to her own head for a moment as she experiences her lifemate's rattle of brains just a bit, the woman then snorking out to him, "Bet *that'll* teach ya. Knock it off." Apparently both of them recover quickly enough, for the ex-guard is stepping up to both humans and clipping off an easy, "How's it hangin'?" Smirk. Swirling sand of golden hue sparkle with their load of tiny silica crystals, and gust over the gold in a stinging pepper of affection. « It's very good to see you again! » (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) Concern is a hot flicker after Ilicaeth bounces off of her forelimb, though it doesn't linger as his grainy wind blows lingering black smoke away. « You have grown. » His sentiment is shared, not in words but in the warm, spotted fur she envelopes him in. (Hraedhyth to Ilicaeth) « You noticed! I *have*. » Measured pride and some impatience issue like blasts of sand from the blue weyrling, then swirling about Hraedhyth's legs in reflective dances. That warm fur of hers is at first rolled around on, clutched closer simply so Ilicaeth can enjoy the feeling of being loved not only by his lifemate, but his dam. And then the queen's 'roll' of fur is deftly, firmly manipulated by the perhaps surprisingly facile mind of the little blue, send draping over his shoulders, folded up wings, back much like a superhero's cloak. Look at me, ma! In his juvenile mind, 'caeth is flying around somehow, his Hrae-cloak of super protection rippling and flapping just behind him as he very hugely and messily charrs giant silver Thread from the air. BELLOW! (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) K'zin nods to Azaylia's words. "I'll see if that works." He has a slight frown, as though some part doubts it will work or is at least dubious in some way about the undertaking. He looks to the bronze and is silent a moment, "Ras is hungry. I'll see you around, Zay." He looks as though he wants to bid her farewell in some physical way - a squeeze of the hand, a kiss, something, but he doesn't, he just lingers a moment before moving away. He passes Alida and leans in to bump shoulders with her in a friendly sort of way. "To the left." He informs her dead-pan, and then he and Ras are casually strolling away. The tension is noticed and very much felt on Azaylia's part as the two stand just a bit too still, "Bye, K'zin." The nickname has her smiling, one that ends up hidden behind a hand as she catches his reply to Alida's casual greeting. Her own answer is much less crude, "Hello Alida. Ilicaeth is looking well." She may not be able to get a good look, but Hraedhyth can. The queen huffs a warm breath after Rasavyth's retreating rump, dam's attention snapping instantly over to the dazed blue. What happened? How did she hurt him while staying still? Ilicaeth is thoroughly inspected as the queen lowers her head, hovering a foot or two above the dragonet. To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth watches with amusement, drums picking up in a theme worthy of such heroics. « Of course. One day, » Not soon. She's learning to watch what she says to impressionable young minds. « You will be large, and able to fight me. » Even the thought of Thread, an enemy she has never known and yet knows has her flames burning redhot. It tints her jeweled gaze, but only just, « What would you do since IT does not fall? » They are in an interval. What might've once incurred serious retaliation in some way now calls up only a look of faintest mixed irritation and black humor in Alida, K'zin's shoulder bump of her barely moving the blonde, though she *does* call back over her shoulder to him, "I'm sure the barracks'll be happy ta hear that." Snort. For a set of moments, those intense green eyes seem to study the departing bronze pair, but then the sounds Ilicaeth and Hraedhyth make call her back to peering at the 'dynamic duo' of mother and son...the young woman actually chuckling aloud as her lifemate scamper-bounds around some before the huge gold. "Yeah; he's feelin' his oats t'day..." is noted of mister energy, who barely notices his dam's inspection of his recovered self. "And how're *you*?" Another weyrling-sized bugel is offered up to the queen, the energetic blue with the red-dotted blue eyes soon calming down enough to settle into a gargoylish sit-crouch just before his dam, his tail twitching over the soft hide of whatever part of her is nearest. Ahh, his eyes are all blue again, coppery claws flexing into earth and stone below him. Ahh, perhaps he's being the silent protector. « Yes. Alida says I must be patient. » Still, there's barely disguised *impatience* within him, checked only by his strong-willed lifemate's guiding insistence. « I shall be, one day. And we will fight gloriously, and then... » images built of multicolored sand suddenly rush over the gold's mind, not-truly understood scenes of drinking and card-playing humans laughing and sharing memories of battles together. As for Thread, it brings a sudden red roil of a huge sandstorm into view, the fury of it intense enough to make the weyrling quiver with anger. And then mom bursts his bubble with that one inquiry, Ilicaeth seeming to droop a little as he sheds that warm fur cloak of the queen's. « I wish I would've been born into a Pass. » What is a warrior without a war? (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) "I can see that." Or rather, her lifemate can. Azaylia takes a moment to smooth her hands over her dress, brushing along her sides until they come to a stop at her hips. No reason other than it's comfortable, gaze dropping to wherry-weighted piles of paperwork. "I'm... better. Getting the hang of a bit of extra paperwork." An honest answer, but perhaps not one a person wants to hear coming from a superior. "And you? Weyrlinghood changed at all since I last asked?" The words are offered with a light laugh, realizing she has little else in the ways of small talk. "Has Ilicaeth found a talent for anything?" There. Better. To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth's voice is rough, firm, « No you do not. » The queen is not without her own thirst for battle, to take to the skies and flame their ancient foe into ash. She has enough of it, enough of that fire, even if she understands she is not capable of breathing it. There's light, floral relief that they don't live in a Pass, sentiment strong enough to color the queen's own thoughts. « You would be injured. I would not like to see you hurt. » A perhaps oddly fond smile is launched over at Ilicaeth, Alida then quickly quieting her expression once again when Azaylia again speaks. A levelly ventured, "I was wondering how...people are taking the big announcement." Finger-flick. You know, about the whole Aishani debacle, the weyrling's lingering silence might seem to ask. As for herself, once the goldrider is done with their previous point of inquiry... "Good days 'n not so good. Different, but like enough uv the others." Pre-Impression. Greens remained firmly focused upon the other woman's browns, level and non-judgemental. "Is it normal t'have ta stake out a piece uv one's mind to yourself?" Handwave. "I mean, so yer' dragon and you c'n have some private space." As far as the blue's talents go, Alida seems to clip off quickly enough, "He's got a good eye for detail when he wants to. He's confident, but not reckeless. Got a leadership streak innim' too. « Yes, I would. » The prospect of injury doesn't make the brave little blue fear. Drinking in his dam's unquenchable fire, her thirst for battle, makes the blue's sandy gyres increase into a true, deadly sandstorm for a few moments, the abrasiveness of his hereditary ire even larger than the dragon himself. And then that light floral scent quells him some, a hint of white-gold hair and green eyes flickering through the falling motes of sand prompting Ilicaeth to rumble, « We are warriors. We protect each others' backs. » And by 'we,' the little blue means not only his lifemate and himself, but Hraedhyth as well. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) "I... people?" Azaylia asks, not quite sure why she's being asked the opinions of many. Still, there's an attempt to answer, "I imagine some are upset. They have a right to be." It's said with a touch more feeling, realized and schooled as the weyrwoman continues. "Others might not think it's a big deal, that a name is just a name. They have that same right." She's not terribly helpful beyond what someone could learn just listening to gossip in the caverns. "Normal? I... don't know if anything is normal when it comes to individual dragons." She's well aware of how unhelpful her answers have been, doing her best to remedy it with an example. "Hraedhyth and I share everything. Nothing's private. I tried to keep things from her when she was just hatched and... it upset her." There's a smile for Ilicaeth's percieved talents, "Sounds like a proud, strong little blue." She approves. To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth doesn't mean to provoke the blue's own fury, and she will have no hand in quenching it. Her lifemate, however, has had much practice when it comes to soothing savage beasts. « We are. » The gold's growl is one of approval, « We look after those of our tribe. » Their pack, as an older bronze may put it. But most of all, there's a heavy thump of duty in her final words, « Queens protect the Weyr. » Alida digests Azaylia's 'answers' with her characteristic neutral aplomb, the young woman letting her gaze slide to the now-quiet dragons for a moment. A firm nod is given to the weyrwoman's assessment of Ilicaeth. "I guess we both like our space, then. Just a little...enough ta' keep some things as private as possible." Some things likely better left alone, most of the time. And then back to the goldrider go those astute greens, the weyrling noting almost offhandedly, "What about *Azaylia*? What's *she* think of all of this...unrest?" He doesn't balk or back up at his dam's words in any fashion, a fleeting image of himself - all grown up and craggy-powerful - whorling into being upon blue-grey sands, then gone... perhaps out of respect for the gold. « We ALL protect each other. We ALL protect the Weyr. » A perhaps-surprising thrum of drums in the distance, a wave of banners in the sky is followed by a gritty, determined, « *I* protect. » (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) Azaylia gives a faint nod, "Every bond is different." A fact that she's only just beginning to remember, what with so many weyrling pairs running about. When Alida asks of her own opinion, there's only a moment of hesitation. "It's not good for the Weyr." There's a glance for her paperwork, as if just now realizing how long she's been pulled away from it. "That the 'folk and riders should be able to trust their Senior... when there is one." Her subtle determination fades, replaced by an apologetic skew to her lips, "I'm sorry, but I told myself I was only allowed to work outside if I actually got some of it done." There's a step backward, "If you'll excuse me?" And *that*, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much all the answer Alida really wanted, at this point...the blonde watching with subdued intensity, finally bobbing her head in thoughtful fashion, and murmuring to Azaylia at her answer, "Thanks for bein' candid." A suddenly pithy little half-smirk might addend 'as candid as possible, anyway.' "Not a problem," 'lida tosses off easily, then offering a snappy salute to the goldie. Note also Ilicaeth's odd little 'bark' to the weyrwoman, too, his craggy blue gaze shifted to her for a few moments before it travels to his dam once more. "Have a good one, weyrwoman." To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth is more curious of that fleeting image, nose taken to blue-grey sands and snuffling inquisitively before leaving it be. She'll see, in time. His insistance chafes some, and there are bared teeth as he toes a line, « Queens protect the Weyr. » It is not just reassurance, but something that is felt deeply by the gold. It lasts only until Ilicaeth understands where his dam stands, flames dancing with some pride, « But, yes. You protect. » And she protects him. His *is* a hardhead, her little blue offspring...just like Alida, and his gargoyle-like mental stance holds firm, though nothing but affection is offered to the queen. Perhaps trying to mitigate them butting heads over this protection issue, a platinum sand-sword is offered hilt-first to Hraedhyth...both from a blue paw and a pale-skinned woman's capable hand, along with Ilicaeth's latent, someday baritone « We protect PERN. » (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) As her lifemate gets back to work, Hraedhyth calms and accepts that sand-sword, her own bone clubs thumping those drums mightily. « Yes. » That much, they can agree on. « We portect Pern. » (Hraedhyth to Ilicaeth) |
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