Logs:Going Higher
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| RL Date: 10 May, 2013 |
| Who: Cailluneth, D'kan, Kazavoth, N'ky |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: D'kan takes N'ky up to see one of the weyrs he thought the greenrider might like. Kazavoth tells a story of philosophy. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: April/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
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D'kan, who seems to have been just wrapping up a session of letter writing, looks up quickly and gives N'ky a soft smile. "Hey, there's a thought," he responds brightly, dropping his writing materials into a box that goes under his cot. "Kaz is already out in the bowl, stretching. He's been restless today." The brownrider pauses long enough to gather his riding gear, then motions for N'ky to lead the way, but not before adding a quick, "Hi there, Cai, you gorgeous little pudgemuffin." It's said with love, and a whole lot of twinkling in those dark eyes of the older weyrling's. "Feels by now like Kaz and I have seen every weyr they'll let us see." Maybe they should go into real estate! "Know what kind of thing you're looking for?" "Pudgemuffin?" N'ky's nose wrinkles in amusement, falling in alongside the brownrider and letting him lead the way. Cailluneth follows, her only acknowledgement of the comment being a soft snort to D'kan. With her straps already on, she seems eager to get going. "I guess... I guess somewhere Cailluneth will be h-happy? Um... maybe h-higher up. D-didn't you find one you liked, when you were looking?" That doesn't seem to bode well, if there weren't any to tickle his friend's fancy. "All the really good ones will be gone by now, I guess. Can we f-follow you?" "Oh, there are some excellent ones, actually," D'kan answers, shrugging. "Just haven't made up my mind yet, I guess." It's something of a lame explanation, both sounding and feeling like it, but the brownrider leaves it as is. "So, um... smaller? Larger? How high up is higher up?" They enter the bowl, where Kazavoth, still in his own riding straps, greets them with a happy, rumbling roll of low draconic voice. D'kan slips into his jacket and starts readying his riding belt while his brown hunkers down and waits. Cailluneth greets Kazavoth by bounding up to him, rubbing her head against his neck and purring happily to him. She stays there until N'ky reaches her side, then backs off to let Kazavoth crouch down while she does the same for her weyrling. "I used to want low but after flying, I think high would be better. But I guess... I guess we'll just see what there is? M-maybe you'll pick yours, too." He climbs up onto Cailluneth then, buckling himself in and doing the mandatory straps checks. With his lifemate ready beneath him, he looks to D'kan to give the signal for take-off, so that they can lead the way. While strap-checking might not be the totally fluid affair yet that it is for more seasoned riders, D'kan and Kazavoth have been doing enough of it lately that the steps are starting to flow, and in relatively little time, the brown pair are ready. It is possible D'kan may have been using the process, however, to avoid talking about his own weyr prospects, though he nods in reply to the low versus high. "We'll start at the top and work our way down," he calls over just before buttoning the last two buttons of his jacket. Then, with the signal to take off, Kazavoth takes a couple running steps, then leaps into the air, soon gaining altitude through sheer power. It seems the brown might be looking to expend some energy today, as he's usually at least a little more efficient. Up they go! Cailluneth is right behind her brown brother, her own take-off a powerful spring upward without the running leap. She remains behind him, allowing him to lead the way. Up, up, up, to a point almost at the rim, where the air currents are strengthened by the wind rushing into the bowl. Shadowed by an overhang of rock, the little ledge the brown leads them to seems hardly big enough to N'ky for both dragons to land on; and yet Cailluneth manages to settle comfortably enough in the space beside Kazavoth. N'ky slips from her back, quickly moving to be close to the wall. "I-it's high," he comments, not entirely confidently, keeping Cailluneth between him and the edge. Goggles are pushed up over his helmet, and he squints in the wind that whistles by. "Kaed? I've... I've n-never been in a weyr before." And, with one as high up as this one, he seems nervous. D'kan's first instinct is to laugh, but luckily the wind carries it away, so it sounds like little more than an odd cough. "No time like the present!" he calls over, slipping off his goggles as he heads inside, while Kazavoth hunkers down on the ledge, wings wrapped tightly against his body. He stretches his head toward the weyr's entrance, but it's D'kan who leads the way inside, where he calls out, "What do you think? Can you see yourself and Cai living here?" Says the real estate agent in the making. Kaz and Co. Intruding upon their normal starry sky, the wind gusts through, full of bluster, but lacking the chill touch of rain. It buffets with warm tropical thermals, coloring their sky in shimmering prisms of rainbows. « Ooooh. I do so love the view! » he shares, once his attention swings from the weyr's small cavern to the world outside. « Glorious, Cailluneth! Simply marvelous. » As his gaze switches to the bowl so far below, however, the rainbows dim, but only momentarily. They're not looking for his weyr, after all.
High up, where the wind whistles freely by no matter what the season is, this weyr ledge is secluded and cold, kept out of the sun for most of the day by the rocky outcropping of the Weyr's rim. It offers a decent view of most of the Weyr with the lake in the far distance, but the real show-stopper is at night: the skies open up above it, with - weather permitting, of course - a clear view of the 'Reaches stars, mostly unobstructed given its location. It's of just smaller than average size, big enough for two dragons to perch side by side, or for a smaller one to lounge, though its lack of sun and warmth tends not to encourage such activities. A narrow entranceway into the weyr may cause difficulties for a larger dragon, unless they're careful to tuck their wings in; once inside, though, it opens up to a couch that's amply sized for a pair of dragons to comfortably cuddle. It's mostly open to the rider's quarters, leaving little separation between lifemates. The inner weyr itself is oddly-shaped, curving around the outside wall of the dragon's couch. This does offer some protection at either end from the constant draft that, especially during bad weather conditions, can whip through with enough force to scatter any unsecured paperwork. At one end, a bed is made on a raised stone platform, with nothing but the basics provided for storing clothes though there is a small, glass-paned window cut into the wall to provide a little natural light; at the other, there's a small fireplace and a single old sofa, draped with a throw. In the middle, carved from the curved wall, there are a few shelves and alcoves for books, knick-knacks and the like, with a beaten up desk positioned in front of them featuring plenty of pebble paperweights. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Cailluneth paints the winds sultry shades of happiness and content, plummy tones mingled with copper and teal. They're a blissful combination, one of indulgence and pleasure, and they agree with Kazavoth's approval of this location. A blue-grey bubble appears surrounding her, her Heart, the weyr -- a claim that this is, or indeed will be, their new home. Wisps of rose reach out to her brother, curling around him, amplifying the warmth of their island, inviting him to join her in her new wallow; someone has to test it out for cuddles, now, don't they? "Too high up for Kazavoth's liking," D'kan answers N'ky, grinning slightly as he adds, "he can't see everything that's going on in the bowl." The weyrling sees that hesitation and raises the greenrider some food for thought. "Thought of you two when Kaz and I first visited this one, though." Speaking of the brown, he's slowly easing his way into the weyr, step by careful step so as not to wreck anything. Couches are safe territory, though, so he crouches down next to Cailluneth while she tries out the couch. "The height's not so bad once you get used to it, right? And Kaz has a point. That view..." He trails off, just gesturing back toward the ledge. The air of the starry night above their little island clears, as does understanding. Kazavoth absorbs a small piece of that happy contentment and expands it toward the dawn, crisp against the pending chill. Those cool tendrils cannot reach them now, though, just as Kazavoth does not breach Cailluneth's blue-grey bubble. He is not going to intrude on that claim. Nice to visit, though. "Kazavoth wants to be lower?" N'ky seems surprised, which perhaps contradicts his own discomfort with the ledge's height. "D-did you really think of me for this one?" That seems to encourage the greenrider a little more, though, given Cailluneth's contented rumbling to Kazavoth and the way she raises her head to him, inviting him to come lie beside her and not just crouch there, he's already sold on the place if only to please his lifemate. "I, um, d-didn't see the view. But m-maybe we can look inside?" To see where he will be living? "Then see the view? It's... it's a b-bit draughty here, though, isn't it?" He steps towards the entrance to the rider's quarters, waiting for D'kan to lead the rest of the way. When it seems to hold him back, Cailluneth's bubble bursts into a shower of tiny, twinkling sparkles, while a whirl of welcoming colours, warm and comfortable like the sandy shores of their island, let Kazavoth know he's invited to visit whenever he wishes. She adds brightness to the star-filled sky they share with the appearance of a fleet of shooting stars, each one burning a trail of golden promise across the inky dark. "He wants to be able to see what's going on in the bowl. Even a dragon can only see so far," D'kan explains with a soft smirk for his dragon, who has indeed laid beside Cailluneth, before he turns back to N'ky, grinning before he heads farther into the weyr. "A bit," he answers, regarding that bit of breeze, "but nothing some ingenuity can't fix. Or at least help. And just think, come summer, your weyr would be the place to be." He turns the corner past the dragon couch to get a better look at the rest of the weyr, on the smaller side but... "Won't be too cramped, will it?" he asks, as if already assuming the greenrider's staked his claim. "It just felt... I don't know," the brownrider continues while trailing gloved fingertips over one of the carved-out niches. "Like somewhere you and Cai could just be." He picks up one of the already waiting weights and tosses it from hand to hand, then waits for N'ky's assessment. Star by star, their shared sky returns to the cozy comfort of like minds, crispness hazing to the feel of softest cotton as the faintest hint of toffee intrudes, unannounced and unexplained, except that it is some shred of memory shared with his lifemate, attached to some moment of contentment. N'ky steps in after D'kan, through the entranceway to stand just in front of the desk. He looks left, then right, along the curves that hide whatever's waiting at either end... and he doesn't look displeased. In fact, a crooked little grin just begins to form and he nods his head. "Just be," he agrees, running fingers over the desk's top, then up over the shelving alcoves carved into the wall behind it. "Wh-what's around there?" Curiosity -- excitement, even -- has the better of him, and the greenrider trots off along the curve of the weyr, towards the bed. When he rounds the corner to see it he stops, standing square with his hands tucked into his pockets, examining the set-up from afar. "I like it." He grins, looking over his shoulder at D'kan. "I like it a lot." Cailluneth weaves a blanket of pastel comfort for Kazavoth to share, a mental presence pressed as close as her physical presence is. She draws him close, twining her own silver around that toffee warmth, while drawing a midnight sky overhead and daubing white-hot stars across it. It's the beginnings of their world all over again; an invitation for Kazavoth to tell the tale of how it all once began, and how it will begin again. D'kan stops several paces back, happy to let N'ky explore now he seems a little more into it. The dippy smile on his face might indicate just how pleased he is that the other rider likes the place. Hey, maybe there's a future in this! "I'm going to see what's around the other way," he announces, voice an amused drawl. Around he goes, stopping near the old sofa and the fireplace. After studying the latter for a moment, he flops down onto the sofa, lounging despite any potential for dust or other general misuse, his hands laced behind his head, ankles crossed as his booted feet hang far over the other end. "You should install a hammock," he calls out, unsure where the other weyrling is at this point. "For the breeze." Beside Cailluneth, Kazavoth is slowly relaxing into the new place, more comfortable with intruding on something the green seems keen to claim as hers. A low, purring rumble emits for a brief moment, just before the brown sets his head down on the ground. True to form, Kazavoth absorbs the starry scene, not taking, only enhancing. Navy blues race between the black spaces, deepening the white of the stars, and far in the distance, a giant ball begins to rotate, slowly at first, filaments of gold enhancing the muted white. Perhaps it is Timor. Or Belior. Perhaps a moon of their own making. His enunciated voice joins the scene finally, both raspy and quiet. « In the beginning, there were eggs. » Such are the depths of Kazavoth's profound thoughts. « The eggs took on shapes, » he continues, as some of those stars grow even brighter, « then colors, » while some of those brighter stars begin to turn green, blue, brown, and that green and sandy color of bronze, with just a touch of sparkle. « Then minds. » Two of the stars grew larger and brighter still as if leaving that starry sky. Green and brown, they flew toward the unknown moon and infused it with their colors, at first only their own, but then adding a kaleidoscope of color that began to turn more and more quickly, both constant and changing. « And our world began. » Having quickly explored the bedroom -- mainly by hopping up onto the stone platform that's the bed, to test out its sleeping potential -- N'ky is on his way around the curve to D'kan when the brownrider makes his suggestion. "Now that's an idea," he approves, running fingers along the stone wall as if to test whether it might be possible to install one straight into the rock. His path takes him past the sofa and to the hearth, where he bends down to poke at it with the tools left beside it. "I-is the sofa comfortable? It's... k-kinda small." If D'kan's feet hang over the edge, then N'ky has no chance of fitting! Cailluneth curls in against Kazavoth, moulding her smaller body to his, laying her head down to rest her chin on his neck briefly, before settling more comfortably. Kazavoth's story lulls Cailluneth's mind into a restful eddying of pastels, soft shades swirling as an ethereal mist around the edges of their joint creation. She brings depth to the colours of the stars, shading green and brown just so, but otherwise her attention is on listening: this is her brother's tale, and she will embellish, but not intrude. Kazavoth barely moves except to stretch out just a little bit more, definitely more comfortable now than he was at first. His tail thumps against the floor once, reaching toward the ledge, but he does not otherwise stir. D'kan swings his feet around so he can sit on the sofa properly, making room for N'ky should he wish to give it a try himself. The brownrider doesn't quite look like he's going to stand yet, though, instead stretching his feet out toward that cold hearth before once again lacing his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Could maybe get a bigger sofa someday," he offers, though his voice is tinged with skepticism as he glances first left, then right, gauging the weyr's proportions. For a time, it might almost seem like that was the entirety of Kazavoth's story, though the pause coincides with this physical stretching, a sense of easing into the worlds of the physical and the mindscape. It is also a chance for him to appreciate Cailluneth's story enhancements, quite possibly saving them for other stories. When he resumes his story, his voice is somehow softer, a low, velvety purr that deepens the blues and blacks of the night sky. « To say our world began is a simplification, for our world is merely a continuation of other worlds. » So gradually it might be missed, smaller and smaller pinpricks of light appear in their sky, some faint, some piercing for all their diminutive size next to those other stars. The tiny ones also carry some color, though the shades pale, fading to pastels to blend with Cailluneth's. When he's done poking at the hearth, N'ky does get up to join D'kan. He flops down heavily, leaning right against the back of the sofa and stretching his legs out in front of him, mimicking the brownrider. Then he yawns, snuggling down to get comfortable. "Maybe not, if I want to get a hammock?" That idea has definite appeal! He too measures up the size of the little living space, scrunching up his nose as he tries to judge it properly. "I... hrm. I guess it's n-not really a weyr for entertaining, is it?" But he doesn't sound too torn up by that. Cailluneth is a patient listener; she tones her colours down, perched on the edge of their mental mindscape, their starlit retreat, with all the eagerness of a four turn old child; though rather than bouncing energetically, she radiates a keen glow to her softly coloured silver moonlight, urging Kazavoth on in his tale-telling. "Maybe... really small parties," D'kan replies with a crooked grin. "Hard to share a hammock, of course. If you got the Smiths to do it properly, though, you could have it on hooks. Only have it up when you really want it. Might be worth the cost." Whatever that ends up being. « And after us... » Kazavoth continues, voice even softer than before. The mindscape begins to change, the individual colors fading until it is nothing but darkness and those pinpricks of light with every color imaginable spreading infinitely. « And after us, our own world will continue in new worlds. And it is for those worlds we live now. » "Maybe parties for two," N'ky snorts, elbowing D'kan playfully and winking at the brownrider. "I-I've, um, got kind of a thing for April." One of Cirrus' blueriders, who N'ky's been seen having the occasional meal with. Then he stands up, standing on the sofa, to reach up to the ceiling; given his height, it's not too difficult for him to touch his fingers to it. "I think this rock would be s-strong enough for a double hammock, for sure... m-maybe a pulley system or something would work? K'zin could probably figure something out... I c-can do the stone bit." He flops back down onto the seat, canting his head to look at D'kan. "Wh-what about your weyr, Kaed?" The darkness is embroidered with layer upon layer of night-like colours, midnight blues, blackened purples, even grey and green all entwined into the fabric of the velvet night that creates the backdrop for Kazavoth's pinprick stars. Cailluneth is pleased by his story, and this appears as the softest white in her mind, glimmering with a pearl's nacre. « Our world, » she adds in her whispery-thin voice. D'kan leaves the craft-specific questions to the crafters, though he gamely looks up at the spots N'ky tests. "A 'thing'?" he asks, grinning when N'ky flops back down, only to shrug at that last question. "I'll figure it out. There were a few from that first day that Kaz and I have been discussing, but... no rush. Not like 'Reaches is going to get a sudden influx of transfers or something." For a wonder, Kazavoth lets the mindscape remain just as it is, as if he's simply viewing the tapestry they've constructed. Cailluneth's statement shimmers slightly as it intersects with the hazy boundary of the brown's own mind, reverberating agreement. The shimmer slowly ripples across the mindscape, imprinting it in what counts for draconic memory. « So how will we live? » "I didn't think I'd, um, l-like a weyr, but... now that I'm here, it's not so bad? I think it'll be very quiet, compared to everywhere else I've ever slept, but... Kaed, I k-kinda think I'll like living here." If it wasn't obvious enough already, N'ky's definitely keen on claiming their current location as his new home. "And y-you can come visit all the time, right? Um... though do you think Kazavoth will f-fit the ledge? When he's fully grown? I-it looks kind of small." As for April, and clarification of the 'thing'? He skips it, perhaps intentionally. How will they live, or how should they live? Cailluneth shifts between the two variations of the question. The first is coloured pastel-pink, a happy, frivolous shade of indulgence, while the latter is a more solemn blue-grey, flecked through with tiny flashes of copper. She weighs the two options, balancing each cloud of colour as if on a scale, with the latter -- the 'should' -- tilted slightly heavier than the former. With it comes the sense of pride, of honour, of right; loyalty, friendship, love and respecting obligations. That is how they should live; but is it how they will live? That question, she nudges back towards her brother. "Good," D'kan declares definitively as he sweeps an arm in front of him. "Behold! Thus lies the domain of N'ky and Cailluneth, as claimed in word and s--." He breaks off suddenly and glances over at the dragons before dropping his voice. "Actually, let's not mention the song part. As for the ledge, he's been a pretty good flyer so far, so if there's a way, he'll figure it out," he assures N'ky with a soft and crooked smile. The April subject is allowed to remain quiet, definitely intentionally. For Kazavoth, the question is simple, defined by the now familiar caldera that surrounds them. It is his simple answer, and his only answer, as it slowly fades to black, once again replaced by their starry mindscape. The darkness is tinged with tickling scents of the warm grass in the feeding ground pasture in summer, of the frost that threatens to coat everything now first thing in the morning, of the barracks with their even fainter scents of old blood, dragon oil, and hide, of the dust that swirls across the bowl when a storm is coming. The should is somehow less important to him, but only because he believes it is already how he will, if his heart remains true. "You're my first guest in my first ever weyr, D'kan, and I couldn't think of anyone better to be here. Brother?" N'ky holds up his fist for Kaed to bump his off, then hops up to his feet and trots around the back of the sofa, back to the opening between the weyr and couch. "I'm going to hang my windchimes right here, I think," he calls back around the curve, "and maybe I'll get something p-pretty to put on the shelves. Like, um... some shiny rocks, or something?" Because he can't really afford much else. "Say, Kaed? Wh-which weyrs do you like? Can we go see them, too? If you're my first guest, I want to be yours." Her brother's strong heart is echoed in that which is ever-present in Cailluneth's mind; a lub-dub lullaby that soothes and keeps silver time in track. The blood in his thoughts is picked up on, emphasised; it carries through to flicker flame-like in her mind, growing and morphing into the crimson crude silhouette of herdbeast. It flees as a dragon's shadow falls over it, heartbeat quickening to a terrified staccato that matches the throbbing rhythm of hoofbeats hitting dusty ground. Down swoops the shadow, teasing darkness that flaunts its power and flirts with its prey, building up to a frenzied crescendo in those pre-death moments. D'kan bumps the offered fist, then lets his hand fall. The one resting on the sofa arm taps it a few times while N'ky moves around and talks about future decorating. Soon, the taps end as D'kan grips the end of that arm briefly, then gets to his feet. "Kaz and I... we were going to go scope them out. Just the two of us," he explains haltingly and looking toward the dragons. "It's just... things have been tense with us the last few days, and..." He pauses to shrug and sticks his hands in his jacket pockets. "I'll definitely let you see whichever weyr it is before we move our stuff into it. Just can't break the promise to Kaz." Awkward now, he hunches his shoulders, fists shoving even further into his pockets. At the couch, Kazavoth begins to stir again, dark head angled in the riders' direction, which is followed by D'kan heading in the dragons' direction. For a long moment, Kazavoth is caught up in the increasing rhythm of that heartbeat. When the shadow swoops, however, he seems to pull back slightly, distracted, and the crescendo is momentarily left hanging in space until his attention returns. Rather than the abrupt end such things would normally experience, Kazavoth absorbs Cailluneth's herdbeast thoughts and gently lays them down, layering them with a gauzy coating of sunlit clouds, an unspoken promise the story will be continued another time. « Cailluneth, dear, it is time D'kan and I left you and yours. He says you have plans to be plotted. » The words are accompanied by a shadowed sunburst that coalesces into the weyr they currently inhabit. « Welcome home. » "Oh. Um... ok?" N'ky doesn't get the reasoning behind why D'kan says such a thing, but he's not the type to press when things don't need pressing. Or at least when he thinks they don't need pressing. So the greenrider watches as his 'brother' comes across towards the couch, where Cailluneth stirs alongside Kazavoth, yawning and stretching. "So, um, do you think I j-just need to go to Quinlys, and s-sign for this weyr, or something? I guess I don't even need furniture, since everything"-- that he thinks he needs, anyway-- "is right here already." And what more could he need than a bed and somewhere to sit? That he's got a desk is a bonus! Disappointed that her kill is whipped from their joint landscape, Cailluneth murmurs with the shush-shush of a moonlit breeze through silky drapes. When Kazavoth not only takes that from her but also himself, the murmur becomes a grumbling growl, her mind clouding over with sullen grey-green, lined with a silvery acceptance. If he must go, he must go; she won't stop him. This is her home, and she captures his words to gild them, using them to mark her territory; a 'Cailluneth was here' stamp, of sorts. "The others pretty much just said, 'I want this one,' and that was it," D'kan replies while Kazavoth carefully moves out to the ledge, making certain he ducks when necessary. The weyrling waits just inside until the brown lets him know he's ready. "But if this is it, I'd say go to Quinlys as soon as possible. Just in case." He begins buttoning his riding jacket again and starts tugging on his gloves. "Let me know if you need help moving stuff!" After mounting to Kazavoth's shoulders and clipping in, the brown waits for just the right wind gust, just the right thermal, then leaps, quickly spreading his wings before gradually spiralling down toward the bowl, angling south. |
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