Logs:Foreign Forays
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| RL Date: 31 January, 2015 |
| Who: Rasavyth, K'zin, Lilah, Eliyaveith |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin makes a rare appearance at Fort to meet Pretty Boy Pal N'rov, but is early. Lilah and her lifemate offers manners and hospitality while they wait. |
| Where: Northern Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 12, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Alida/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Wakina/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
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>---< Northern Bowl, Fort Weyr >---------------------------------------------<
This section of the bowl is just as devoid of plantlife as the
central portion, the sandy soil having been packed more solidly due to the
sheer amount of foot traffic passing through. While there are weyrs
located to both the east and west, there are very few toward the north.
Toward the northwest would be the ledges for the junior goldriders,
while a second flight of stairs leads up to the Weyrleaders' complex. A
little to the northeast is the entrance to the hatching cavern, while an
entrance to the living cavern is located directly to the east. At the
opposite and distant southeastern end of the bowl would be the lake and
feeding grounds, with the weyrling barracks and infirmary to the southwest
and southeast, respectively. Rasavyth's aristocratic burnt cinnabar form isn't immediately apparent when they exit the blackness of between into Fortian skies, owing to the clouds that layer the sky and give the world a grey cast. What is immediately apparent is his greeting to the Fortian watchdragon. « Rasavyth of 'Reaches; our duties to Fort and her queens. » It's a tenor purr that, while executing the required pleasantries before beginning a wide circle that precedes his landing, seems a touch distracted and perhaps just a smidge annoyed. (To local dragons from Rasavyth) The presence of the junior Fortian queen is immediately noticeable, even where Rasavyth's perhaps isn't. There is a distinct heat in it, as if all of the warmth of the hidden sun has found and existed instead in this creature who has focused her attention on the dragon who introduces himself. But like the sun, there is something welcoming and comforting in her heat, perhaps more distant with this foreign dragon than any of her own as she extends herself to welcome, « And our duties to you and yours. » Far below on one of the junior ledges, she may be mistaken at least for a moment as another bronze, though this large gold watches his descent. (To local dragons from Eliyaveith) To local dragons, Rasavyth's touch, without his tenor purr to make it more apparent, is a subtle thing. At first it might seem only shimmers here and there, but closer examination will yield the invisible ooze that is his apparent essence. There's a sense of charm and friendliness there, but both worn thin and fraying, as though cloth stretched too many times over too taught a frame. « Eliyaveith, » he greets her politely with his tenor some moments they appear through the cloud cover and land in the bowl not terribly far from the junior ledges. His head casts toward them. « Is Isyath...? » He begins but there's distraction, his rider more likely than not, « No, no. Forgive me. » Isyath isn't here anymore, he's been reminded. Nor the other one. The other one that feels more foreign to him that any of the rest. His mind seems to stumble a touch in a confused moment before that confusion is tucked away behind the oozy veneer. « My sister is not here. She rules Southern, now, » Eliyaveith is quick to correct, even where Rasavyth has already been reminded by his own rider. Yet, perhaps it is simply an excuse to make that statement with the swell of pride for Elaruth's other daughter. She doesn't voice her curiosity for his visit, but her head tips slightly and those swirling eyes remain on their visitors as she claims her ledge with the curl of talons against rock. Her bulk and darkness, casting shadow across the space, is almost enough to hide the bright-haired woman that steps into the entrance to the weyr beyond. (To local dragons from Eliyaveith) « Yes, » Rasavyth will agree without any indication that he's affronted by the correction. « I'm certain she does well there. The... » A pause as he probes elsewhere, « My daughter? » He seems unsure. « She is with her there, I'm told. » Told that Aedrielth is his daughter. Told that she is at Southern with Isyath. It's not that he doesn't trust K'zin's relation of these details to him, but there's some measure of anxiety because he cannot personally recall these things. « I saw you break shell, I'm told. » He adds this as he shifts to look at her, as if by looking at her he can will himself to remember the hatching that was so long ago now. K'zin's arrival to the ground is clean. It's an afterthought that seems to have caught her curiosity and finally processed enough to answer, « He's here to see Vhaeryth's, » whom Rasavyth doesn't particularly care for and can't be bothered to hide it. « But we're early and he is still busy. » So K'zin will apparently tuck his hands into his pockets after divesting himself of extraneous riding gear he no longer needs, and look awkwardly around the bowl. « You're not near to rising, are you? » This might be impolite, but the distracted, « We try not to come when anyone is, » might be explanation enough. (To local dragons from Rasavyth) The polite thing to do, certainly, would be for Lilah to step forward from her weyr further and invite the bronzerider while he waits for Vhaeryth's, because surely Eliyaveith has passed along the pair's purpose to her rider. Yet, the goldrider doesn't. She continues to watch both bronze and rider even where the former's gaze turns to her and her's. Eliyaveith makes up for her rider's distance, coldness, with her own warmth as she assures Rasavyth, « Your daughter, my niece, is with her mother. They are together. » That is a good thing, obviously, in the queen's opinion. Yet, at his unhidden opinion of her nephew, her warmth prickles with a hint of pins and needles. His question gets a long pause as she considers it. « They say that I may soon, if I take after my mother. But it will not be today. » That much, at least, she is firm on. « Caeydth is glowing, » is offered in observation, almost sharp as she considers the bronze rather than the green who naps on her ledge. (To local dragons from Eliyaveith) K'zin's glance toward the ledge which likely catches Lilah's presence there has a blush touching his dusky cheeks. He's turning quickly to his dragon, starting to go through the motions of a totally unnecessary strap-check. « Good, » Rasavyth will add his own note of approval, despite whatever reservations he has about things. The pins and needles get a brief, « Vhaeryth caught my queen. » My, possessive. Then he dismisses it. It's not that he has any deep feelings about Vhaeryth and his rider, just that he seems to remember that. There's a deep sadness that can be felt for a brief moment, grief that has not yet felt the healing effects of time. His eyes cast toward the green and then back to the gold, « That's fine. » He is uninterested in chasing, but who can say if he could resist the temptation that is offered by a glowing gold. Now he turns talk a little more polite. « You are well? And your rider? » (To local dragons from Rasavyth) Eliyaveith offers a silent, simple apology for Rasavyth's explanation-- Yes, this queen is apologizing that a bronze caught another gold in a flight that she was not yet hatched for. But she follows that apology with a firm warning of, « Vhaeryth and his are mine and ours. Family. » Yet, she softens in another moment, steel melted by that sadness to again extend her warmth in bright rays to the bronze, as if seeking to comfort him and wrap him in her heat. She doesn't answer his question, but then, that may be her prerogative as a female. (To local dragons from Eliyaveith) Lilah does finally do what she should have before: calling out to K'zin as she steps forward onto her ledge and towards it's edge. "It may be a while before N'rov can see you," holds a faint edge of something, but the goldrider continues, "If you would like to have a cup of klah while you wait?" « Dear lady, » Rasavyth's shimmer brings amusement, however briefly, « Please keep them. » Vhaeryth and his. Rasavyth has no want or use for them himself. If only K'zin didn't insist on being friends with N'rov. There's a sigh. Riders. Can't live without them. Woe. In any case, despite the humor there's a sentiment which concedes to her warning, respects it. (To local dragons from Rasavyth) For a moment, it looks like K'zin might prefer to stay doing unnecessary strap-checking, but an invitation from a goldrider on her home turf is not to be ignored. The rider reaches up a hand to indicate he's heard and comes, before it touches his lifemate's hide briefly and his lips move in unheard words before he's using his long stride to bring him up to meet the redhead. "Weyrwoman Lilah, hi." He greets, pulling a hand up for a respectful salute. "Thank you for your hospitality." It's polite. "I don't mean to be an imposition. I should've had Ras check with Vhaeryth before we came." The blush touches his cheeks again, making the color there a ruddy rose. « We will, » replies Eliyaveith, as if those two simple words are engraved in gold and written upon her heart. What the response lacks in creativity and nimbleness of conversation, it makes up for in pure weight. It is the latter point that she will concede on with some humor, sharing that feeling of exasperation with their riders. (To local dragons from Eliyaveith) "You didn't mean to be an imposition on me, at least," corrects Lilah with a thread of her own dry humor, brows curving upwards in a point as dark eyes sweep over K'zin. Yet, a polite smile appears at the corners of her lips briefly. "K'zin, isn't it? Tela's--." She waves her hand in a gesture that allows (see: hints at) him to finish the rest, even as she tips a chin in further invitation into her weyr. There's a quiet shimmer of amusement for the strength of her reply, but no challenge or contest. Rasavyth's thoughts turn to his rider, even as his eyes turn away from the gold to scan the bowl. It's some moments later when he says, « I remember being here. For a time. Before. » Before the crash. Before the long months of pain. Before. His left wing twitches unconsciously, the wingspar shifting a touch and resettling. (To local dragons from Rasavyth) "Boyfriend," that was easy! K'zin looks relieved for having an answer ready to supply to that. "K'zin," he can also confirm. Two for two! The bronzerdider's hands move behind his back for lack of something less awkward to do. "I don't mean to be an imposition to anyone here," his tone is apologetic. "I'm... we're to go climbing. I'd've gone straight to, only N'rov's picked the place this time and I'm not sure where we're going."
The whole of this weyr seems strangely sanitized and impersonal, with walls painted white and cleaned often if the subtle shine is any indication. The first room is vaguely triangular in shape, with the generous dragon's wallow carved into a deep curve towards the right. The rest of it appears to have been left as a reception room, a white-washed, stone table centered between the wallow and the far-left wall with its surface kept clear of any knickknacks and four varnished, wooden chairs of simple taste each claiming a side. On the left wall runs a long, brass shelf, upon which sits a small collection of bound books and a large fantastical watercolor depicting a scene that could never exist anywhere in Pern. Hooks under the shelf hold flight gear and even a flamethrower, still leaving space for more. A wide, doorless entryway at the northmost point of the triangle leads through to the rider's private quarters - an oval-shaped room a third of the size of the last. Within, the hearth is small, but finely-decorated with ceramic, white tiles, with a woven brass safety screen protecting the room from embers. The double bed lies in the left-hand portion of the room, made up with crisp, white linens and a down comforter covered with soft, white fabric embroidered with raised white vines. A white, wool blanket lies folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. In the middle of the far wall, another unprotected archway heralds the existence of another room: a small bathing room, complete with pool, basin and shelves, which hold a container of soapsand and a stack of towels. Eliyaveith responds with silence, though it is an attentive silence rather than the golden queen ignoring the foreign visitor. She resettles herself against her ledge, her tension easing slightly and more noticeable as it dissipates than before. She does not scan the bowl when he does, but nor does she seem to need to to be well-aware of everything happening in her domain. (To Rasavyth from Eliyaveith) "But not weyrmate," is Lilah's immediate response to that answer, as if she already knew what he would say. Within the comfort (for her, at least: it may not be the most comfortable weyr for visitors) of her own residence, she offers further, "Klah? Or something-- stronger?" The former is already on the table, a pot and a half-drunk cup existing next to a pile of hides that clearly just held her attention. The latter lines the shelves in a few (also half-drunk) bottles. It might be that Rasavyth doesn't realize Eliyaveith is still listening for all that she's made no secret of her continued attentiveness. Or it may be that he's so lost in the jumble of trying to sort his own thoughts he doesn't realize she might not be the right audience for what he says. « It was convenient when his mother was here. Her grief and poor choices were convenient. I would've found a way to come for Elaruth. He didn't realize when we came for her, » not the gold, « That I was here for her. » The gold. « Though I shouldn't have liked it, » he decides in hindsight. « So we are all fortunate. » That he didn't stand a chance. « I cannot remember if I came for Isyath so purposefully... » or if it were simply chance that brought him into the throws of her flight passions. (To Eliyaveith from Rasavyth) "Ah-er... No." K'zin confirms, his cheeks coloring a touch more. The bronzerider's followed the goldrider's lead, his brown gaze taking in all the white and cleanliness. It makes him glance at his boots to be sure he isn't tracking in more dirt than is strictly unavoidable by grace of the boots. He doesn't comment, however, on that, but rather his eyes settle on the watercolor. "Klah would be perfect," he answers but distractedly. Perhaps he can't help himself, taking a pair of steps to look more closely at the painting. It's only after he realizes that he has the sense to look abashed and turn his gaze back to his host. "Sorry. That's interesting." The art, which he dares another glance toward, though only briefly this time. Still, the large, dark queen remains silent as Rasavyth rambles. It is only with the subtle press of static along his thoughts that tries to delve into clarification for the bronze's words. This gold? That gold? Which poor choices? She wants to know as she listens. (To Rasavyth from Eliyaveith) Lilah only tips a nod, agreement light for K'zin's statement. "It is something that Alida had commissioned. A scene that they--," the dragons, "created. And, I was tired of complaints that my weyr lacked color." Just a coincidence, after all. She didn't buy a whole watercolor for her dragon, nope. She moves to pour that klah, setting it down neatly in front of one of the chairs rather than delivering it to the bronzerider. She admits, "Telavi has said as much, before." It's once more difficult to tell if Rasavyth register's the gold's want for clarification as thoughts outside his own jumble or just some part of his own mind seeking to clarify for himself. « Oh, when his father died. » Presumably, K'zin's. « And his mother sought comfort in someone's arms and worried the lot of them. » Ridiculous, the bronze is decided on this point. « They, » the lot, « sent him to fetch her. She'd been putting her knot in jeopardy. » For all his frayed sense of memory, he seems to have a good handle, still, on how things work for the people of this planet. « My K'zin didn't realize I blooded with them until it was too late to stop me. He's never been much good at getting his way. » There's some amusement there, and then sadness. « Better these days. With everything. » His grief. His confusion. (To Eliyaveith from Rasavyth) "Ah, Alida." K'zin lets his head turn to regard the scene anew, now with more context. He doesn't say more than that just now, but perhaps he'll come back to it. He moves to settle a little stiffly in the designated chair. "I didn't realize you and Telavi were... friends?" His tone is uncertain, but it's not as though he keeps a lot of tabs on the greenrider's social engagements. He doesn't seem surprised that Telavi would've said so though, that just means they're close to the same page (perhaps even on it!). Buried in the golden queen is some of Lilah's drive to heal, and that now comes to the surface as her warmth remains a steady presence against Rasavyth's mind, attempting to provide some comfort and grounding even where it may well be spitting in the wind. « Everything will be better, » she assures the bronze, though about what is left unsaid. (To Rasavyth from Eliyaveith) "I would say so, but I can't speak for Telavi," Lilah replies with the brief curve of a smile at the corners of her lips, self-deprecating, before it disappears. It is a moment before the goldrider adds bluntly, "Your dragon worries Eliyaveith." To Eliyaveith, Rasavyth's shimmering attention comes back to the gold; it takes him a moment to really focus on her, but then a ripple of a shrug goes through his oozy twinkling. « It may. But it will never be the same. » And if that is for the best? He cannot yet see. The now isn't terribly pleasant. Too much is broken, knotted, foreign to him. For a moment, there's a glimpse of his inner mind, where there are woven more webs and thoughts than might exist in every nook or cranny in any Weyr, but Rasavyth's have certainly seen better days, despite the way the subtle buzz of his thoughts works at prying apart snares. He's always busy these days, but unlike days before, now it a consuming work. K'zin nods to the first, "I'd imagine she'd say so. She's... friendly." The bronzerider says of his not-weyrmate. "Always has been so far as I know," he admits as he leans to pick up the mug. "Or has been always to me at any rate." Maybe he's special? He glances to the painting again. "I ought to see how her mural is holding up. If I thought she wouldn't kill me for peeking into her weyr." Given that killing is a part of the concern, he's probably not talking about Telavi anymore. The renewed blush that came when she mentioned his dragon lingers though he only responds to her words at the last. "I'm sorry. Shall I ask him to keep better to himself? I'm sure he doesn't mean to worry her," he hopes anyway. Eliyaveith accepts that answer, not contesting the validity of that statement even as she studies the other dragon. But then she is curling up on her ledge, and while she doesn't invite him to join her, she still seems to have a portion of her attention dedicated to him. She doesn't press at woven webs, instead seeming to shy away at that brief glimpse of his inner mind. (To Rasavyth from Eliyaveith) Lilah's brows curve upwards, but she offers dismissively, "She would worry over him keeping to himself, too. Worry is what she does best." She shifts back to the other conversation seamlessly, with a hint of dry amusement playing on her words as she does so. "I would hope she is friendly to you." A beat. "You do murals?" It's likely the glimpse was unintended. Rasavyth certainly isn't seeking to show her more, anyway. He's quieter now. Perhaps it's his rider's instruction, if there was any, or perhaps having rambled through the initial jumble, he's left to pick at the finest tangles. When did he come? How long did he stay? What does he remember about being here? His eggs... does he remember them? Did they ever hatch? They must have... mustn't they? He has a daughter, it is known. The ramble continues, but quietly, less specifically, sometimes in circles. (To Eliyaveith from Rasavyth) "Sounds... like an attentive queen." K'zin says, and though it's a little halting, it sounds like a compliment and is likely intended so. "I appreciate her concern. I'm sure... well, no, he wouldn't like it much, but then he's always been independent. Her conversation is valued, I'm sure." That much he can be sure of. The dry amusement this time makes K'zin laugh, if just a little. "It would be very unfortunate if she weren't." He admits, with a smile that dares to come through. "Out of necessity, once. Mine had... well, interesting art. It's all re-done now, except the one wall that needs re-doing after the re-done." He taps his fingers against the mug. "Did the one that-- well, I don't know if it's still in Alida's weyr, I suppose. It's been a lot of turns since weyrlinghood and new weyrs and all that excitement." His eyes move across the white. "You like the white?" It's not judgment but curiosity. "She is, especially when it involves family. I think Rasavyth might almost count, seeing as he is Aedrielth's sire." His question diverts Lilah's attention for a moment, tipping her chin in a way to slide a look to her own walls as if studying them from a guest's perspective. "I do not like a lot of things. Walls included," she answers before her dark gaze is back on K'zin like a weight, even as she sips at her klah. "What kind of mural did you put on your own walls?" There's a trace of a faint smile for the first. "He doesn't remember what happened after the crash. We didn't really even know about Adrielth for months after." There's some measure of apology there but also a lot of 'whatcha gonna do?' A crash is a crash and there's no controlling its effects. "I can appreciate that," the bronzerider says, following the weyrwoman's gaze as if he's putting himself in her shoes in turn. "Makes it seem a bit more spacious," not that that's really an issue here. "Clean." K'zin notes, but it sounds complimentary again. Nothing wrong with clean, even if such levels are utterly beyond a man of only twenty-three. "There's a map of our sweep," his weyr's, "and a starry sky which doesn't make real constellations but is great for climbing practice. I had a to-scale map of Pern on the other wall, but seems I'm not loved everywhere I go and someone saw fit to make sure I knew it while I was still grounded in Telgar. Scrubbed it off after I got back and been waiting for... Dunno, inspiration, I suppose." He shrugs, eyes roaming the walls as if some might be found here in all that white. That bit of a story has Lilah almost laughing, except that the goldrider's lips press tightly together to ensure that she doesn't laugh in the face of her guest's misfortune, before she can manage a simple, "I'm sure inspiration will come. Perhaps you could even paint Aedrielth for him, so he doesn't forget her. Or-- well." She shakes her head dismissively, almost apologetic. She can't help but ask, "So what did they put on your wall? Did you ever find out who did it?" K'zin's hands come up to make a panoramic as he speaks the words, "'K'zin sucks!'" It probably wasn't funny at the time, but now he seems to be able to find enough humor in it to offer a wry smile. "I helped out with the weyrlings in Telgar to pull my weight, once we were well enough, so my guess one of them. I mean, the overwhelming creativity points toward youthful exuberance and daring, don't you think?" It's after a sip of his klah that he says, "Unfortunately the tunnel to the inner weyr precludes Rasavyth's direct enjoyment of the murals, at least comfortably, and I'm not sure he's ever spoke to Aedrielth. I think the whole thing is... painful for him. To try to remember." Beat, "Never crash." He shakes his head. Just a word of advice. Obvious as it is. "Or someone smart enough to make it look like a weyrling," offers Lilah, an amused smile touching at her expression and softening the goldrider's dark focus. "If it were me, I'm not sure I would give up until I caught the culprit and punished them appropriately." This topic is certainly easier than the other, which has her nodding in silent agreement to his advice. "He seems to have recovered physically, at least. That must be a relief." "Also possible. Being a defunct clutchsire and then a foreigner grounded for almost a turn at another weyr with a dragon unable to hunt for himself... I can't have made a lot of friends those turns." His tone is grim and K'zin's reach up to rub the back of his neck is self-conscious. His head lifts, though he doesn't get that faraway look that's so common around a Weyr. "Rasavyth says N'rov's ready to go." There's a nod for physical recovery though no direct comment. He's busy carefully trying to place his mug back, as though it has to be just as it was offered to him. "Thank you for the klah, Weyrwoman Lilah," he's polite as he rises. "By your leave, I shouldn't keep him waiting." More manners! Who knew a young bronzerider capable! "Mm." The junior weyrwoman studies K'zin even as he arranges the mug, her lips pressing once again together at something the young bronzerider has said. Yet, she only offers, "Of course not. Clear skies to you, K'zin. And to Rasavyth." She moves to rise, apparently intending to walk him at least as far as the entrance of the weyr, for all that it is unlikely he'd get lost. |
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