Logs:Goldriders, Not Grandmas
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| RL Date: 18 February, 2014 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hattie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia comes bearing records of 'Reachian bloodlines and sweets for Weyrwoman Hattie during her visit to Fort. |
| Where: Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 1, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Ali/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
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| Galleries, Fort Weyr The entrance to the sands and galleries alike is little more than an archway and a section of flat stone before it dissolves into the sands proper. Although it's warm here, it's not nearly as hot as the sands themselves are. To the right is a broad pathway leading to the stands, with a set of stairs leading up one side all the way to the upper tiers. Also visible from here is an odd engraving on the wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red Star. Lined along the right-hand side of the hatching cavern are the galleries, the seats carved from the stone wall and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated spectator's box at the topmost row. There are three separate flights of stairs leading into the galleries, with one near the entrance, another set in the middle, and a flight at the northernmost end.
Elaruth is awake and alert, though it might be just a matter of time before she can no longer resist the lulling pull of the warmth of the Sands, Hraedhyth's reach for her mind met with the brightening of pale light that sets miniscule particles within the mists of her mental touch to glimmering. « Hraedhyth. » She's silently appreciative of the quiet, in that she doesn't flinch away, nor does the surface of shallow water ripple. « She is here, with me. You and yours are welcome. » Without defining those borders that Hraedhyth herself has already addressed. Within Fort's hatching cavern, Hattie lingers at the line between Stands and Sands, uncharacteristically anxious as she observes Elaruth nosing at and oh so carefully adjusting not the eggs of her own clutch, but of Isyath's. Hreadhyth's drums threaten to rise with elation, and instead there are quivers of restraint in the echoes. It won't be long before the tawny queen appears over Fort, roar of greeting replaced with a low snarl that is savage only in sound. Once Azaylia has dismounted, the gold returns to the skies to patrol in a lazy spiral above the Weyr, circles widening with each lap. The 'Reachian Weyrwoman enters the galleries only after peeking around the corner, eyes searching for Hattie before they shift to Elaruth. She watches for a moment, finally entering with soft footsteps and a gentle swish of her dark blue dress. "Weyrwoman Hattie. Elaruth. Our duties to Fort and your clutch...es." Breathless soprano is far less tentative than her dragon, for once, voice as warm as her smile. In her arms are a stack of papers as well as a flat box, both of which are set down in order for her to shrug off her darkly tan riding jacket. Elaruth glances up when Azaylia arrives, and, though she's watched for a fraction of a second, she's not deemed a threat, and she immediately returns to slowly heaping sand around the base of the dark gold egg that now sits slightly apart from the rest. Slightly. Fort's Weyrwoman looks about set to break a couple of her fingers if she twists them together any more tightly, one foot hovering just over the first inches of sand, as if she might be about to go and coax her lifemate back from those not-hers eggs, but footsteps stop her from darting forward, and instead draw her back from crossing that line. "Weyrwoman Azaylia," Hattie greets in kind, attempting to swallow down the anxiety that dampens her smile and lends an odd, even quality to her voice. "Fort's duties to High Reaches." She takes one definite, clear step back from the Sands, and looks up. "How are you?" Azaylia watches the other goldrider with obvious curiosity, head tilting faintly to the side at how Hattie frets. Brown gaze shifts to Elaruth, so obviously the source of those twisting fingers and hovering foot, and confusion mingles with her growing concern. "I'm well. Hraedhyth is a little anxious with eggs on your sands, but she usually is." Rather than prompt Hattie to leave the lower tiers, Azaylia is mindful in her descent. She'll stop if her approach upsets the queen, otherwise aiming to join Fort's Weyrwoman where she stands. "How are you, though? I... You seem worried?" Which, of course, has her worried. Hattie's smile grows the tiniest bit when Azaylia moves towards the lower rows of seating, something grateful fighting to break free of the concern that swamps her features. "...I don't really know how to explain it," she confesses, once the two goldriders are side by side, her gaze swinging back to Elaruth and the little queen's slow, methodical moving of pale sand. "I know she won't damage them. But... they're not hers and Isyath is... not gone. Even if Isyath is less inclined to care about her eggs, I don't want her upset. It feels... presumptuous, but then maybe this is easier all round. Elaruth doesn't want anyone else on the Sands and Isyath doesn't want to stay with her eggs, so..." She gives a helpless shrug. "Hraedhyth and Iesaryth shared peaceably, didn't they?" Elaruth's behavior is somewhat fascinating to the foreign goldrider, and she watches with an easy stance, hands in a relaxed hold behind her back. Azaylia listens, soft nod proof of that even if both sets of eyes are on the little queen. "If I can be honest..?" Only now does she give a nervous glance toward Hattie, "I'd be glad that Elaruth is tending to Isyath's eggs. If it were me." Which it isn't. "If Isyath doesn't care-- to stay with her eggs, then I can't imagine she'd be upset about having them watched over." She may be unsettled by the junior gold's lack of maternal instincts, but that's no excuse to be rude. "Hraedhyth saw Iesaryth, and her clutch, as a part of her own... she was fiercely protective of them all. I think it may have annoyed Iesaryth, sometimes, but she's difficult to rile. They got along well." "True," Hattie murmurs in agreement. "...I'm not sure if she realises that. I think she must, or she will do, when they hatch." She stops staring quite so intently at Elaruth as the queen starts to make her way back across to her own clutch, to curl up around them, with the pale gold egg tucked just beneath her chin. "I appreciate that. Thank you. I'm hoping she'll begin to settle back down again - if she doesn't leave after her clutch hatches, I might just move my whole weyr down here!" It's instinctively that she turns to look back too, following Azaylia's gaze as best she can, and something brighter breaks through the weariness in her at the news of what's been brought. "Thank you. I've got Elaruth and Bijedth's all mapped out, but... Well, if that egg of Isyath's is a gold, it'd be useful to know if there are any bronzes that should be barred from her flights." There's a hint of guilt in her smile, "Hraedhyth knows because I do... I think it's why she wants to be extra careful today." At the expense of what savage grace the Reachian queen usually possesses. Once Hraedhyth feels as though Fort's perimeter is secure, she'll settle in the bowl, which is why there will be stories of her curiously following weyrfolk around. Especially candidates. Azaylia's brows lift in mild surprise, "Oh. She might not. I hadn't thought of that." No one should have to inherit double-clutch duty. Mention of Isyath's possible gold brings her attention back to the sands, "We have a lot of related blood breeding at 'Reaches. It doesn't seem to do any harm, but... I can understand wanting new sires. Although..." There's some tension in her shoulders as those hands behind her back fold tightly, "I don't mean that as an excuse for our bronzerider. I brought you sweets for the new Turn?" A playful peace offering, since she'd likely have brought them anyway, which explains the box. "...I try not to think about what they are to Elaruth, in-case it makes her possessive," Hattie admits, though how much she can be keeping that from her as she says it is debatable. "And it's not really any of the bronzeriders' faults, I suppose. I've considered whether there are any queens that the bronzes of Elaruth's shouldn't really catch, as well as Isyath's, based on what we know of the Fortian line. Adiulth and Vhaeryth probably shouldn't be allowed to chase any gold on these Sands, especially since they've already flown Isyath." She gives a quick, one-shouldered shrug. "Not that anything can really be done to stop them, short of sending them away in advance. Go back far enough and all of our dragons are related somehow, I imagine." She reaches out with intent to touch a gentle hand to Azaylia's arm. "Thank you. I'm afraid I've been awful about everything to do with Turn's End, this time. Maybe I should try sending N'muir out as an apologetic ambassador." That draws forth another wry smile. "Hraedhyth was hatched possessive. Of me, and then of our Weyr. She doesn't try to force her will on our dragons, so I don't see the harm." Azaylia compares the two golds, clearly fascinated by their differences and whatever similarities may exist. With no children to speak of, this is the next best thing. Hattie's touch is returned, Azaylia's hand resting atop the other goldrider's and offering a squeeze. "I know exactly what you mean. But there'll always be more turns, more events to make up for it." Her smile widens at the mention of N'muir, "Please do. I don't think I've ever really spoken to him." Beyond the typical Weyrleader formalities between their regions. Her hand lifts to give a few soft pats, "Have you thought about what two new juniors might be like?" There's some excitement, there. "They're not so different in that respect. Elaruth has clear feelings about home and home being hers, but she won't force others to do what she wants unless they're in danger or it's important that she does." Speaking of, Elaruth looks to be on her way to sleep, the twitching of the white-gold tip of her tail slowing as she sinks a little more into the sand beneath her, mindful of the eggs that she's carefully curled around. "I'll do my best to send N'muir your way," Hattie promises, letting her smile widen to a funny sort of grin. "You're of course invited to the hatching-- hatchings, I mean. Are we supposed to behave like proud grandmothers at Isyath's? I was hoping to avoid being calling 'grandma' for a while." Please, please, please for a long while yet. "Though having two more juniors... much more work, then less, I suppose, once they're trained. Depending on their skills. ...I don't have the best record with juniors." Given one is now in Igen and an other one absent in a much more permanent way. Azaylia's own smile widens, though there's a teasing pinch of her brow, "Oh, don't say it like that. You make him sound scary." Really, it's Hattie's expression that does it. With careful excitement, "Thank you. I try to never miss a hatching." At her own Weyr or otherwise. She's far from remorseful, despite her bashful admission, "I'm so sorry, Hattie. I probably will act like one... I'll try to shield you from as many 'grandmas' as I can." It's a genuine offer, given that she's not yet at an age where such a nickname holds any weight. "Again, I'd be happy to help. But..." Shy, if only because her admiration is showing, "If anyone can handle training two new juniors, it's you." She distracts herself with a curious glance towards Elaruth, mindful of that slowing tail. Hattie laughs brightly, though, lucky for her, it's not loudly enough to disturb Elaruth and draw her queen back to more fretting. "He's mostly harmless, I promise, but don't ever tell him I said that. He's harmless until crossed, shall we say, though I'm biased in probably every way that a person can be." Her lips twitch to one side as she considers, "If there are two of them, or even one, it might be useful for a goldrider to spend some time learning from another Weyrwoman and experiencing another Weyr's culture. It used to happen more in the past, but not so much in recent turns. Not that I'd dream of sending some poorly behaved brat your way." For who knows what sort of girl a gold will choose? "There's a lot that you could teach a new goldrider. You're a good example of everything a Weyrwoman should be." And on that note, or close to it: "Would you help me with the records you've brought? I can make you a copy of Isyath's bloodline while you're here." "I promise. I know enough about bronzerider ego..." A gentle tease, now even more aware of Hattie's bias in regards to Fort's Weyrleader. The prospect of cross-Weyr training has her eyes brighten with interest, "I've spoken with other Weyrwomen about it. It doesn't seem as common during an Interval, but I actually think this might be the perfect time for it." Hattie's approval earns a quiet hitch in Azaylia's breath, an audible squeak betraying her startled pleasure. "T...thank you, Hattie." Dusky complexion doesn't allow much in the way of a blush, though there's some attempt at color. "And really, if you need a break from a... a brat, I think I could survive." With one last look toward the eggs, what reluctance there is doesn't last at the Fortian gold rider's offer. "Oh yes, please. I didn't even think of-- It would make sense, wouldn't it?" Azaylia's interest in Isyath's bloodlines are genuine, excitement much more obvious when there isn't the risk of waking Elaruth. Eventually, the time to leave will come with her rescuing a poor candidate from Hraedhyth's intense curiosity. |
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