Logs:Gone Away
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| RL Date: 31 March, 2013 |
| Who: E'ten, Ebeny, Reesa, Serah, Elaruth, Isyath, Yalzurth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The returned weyrlings react to the loss of one of their own. |
| Where: Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| The clear skies above have meant a very productive drill for Hemetite and a very unlikely pair lingering near the entrance of the infirmary. By all rights, he's not slated to work as a dragonhealer today. And yet, both man and dragon are in various postures of comfort. One leaning against the stone wall with a look towards the feeding grounds. The other? Curled up and enjoying the warmth after a busy morning. Serenity might be for others, sitting on the grassier sweep of the southern bowl on a clear day; Serah, cross-legged in a patch of such nature, sits with an agitatedly curved back, glaring down at a sheet of hide to suggest the writing on it has personally offended her. Fingers clutch and release on her worn pants, nearly through on the knees; her short-shorn nails find narrow holes, picking at them. After a second, she pushes up, thrusting off of a palm that then careens into her messy hair, shoving bushels of it off her forehead and up when the other hand joins its mate. Unresolved, discontented-- not like the brown monstrosity haunting the battlefield made of the feeding grounds. Never landing long, Nazguwynth's bulk leaps in quick bursts of flight between one beast to another, crushing them under talons with loud, pleasing crunches. Dipping a thick neck, he rubs his shadowed cheek into the muck of the corpse. The sounds of torment in the direction of the feeding grounds is enough to cause a wince from E'ten and absolute silence from Adiulth. It seems that it's entirely the rider's prerogative to push away from the wall to cross in the direction of the weyrling rider. Still attired in what would have been perfect for drills in leathers but the jacket opened for the shirt udnerneath, one hand lifts in greeting as he remarks, "Hello there." He'll bypass the carnage in the pens though. That's easily heard and needs not to be seen. Battlefield-- slaughterhouse-- it carries on, without a glance from Serah. The ragged line of effort wrinkling her forehead over one eyebrow could be the stress of separating herself from it, though it may echo, clear cries, in her head. Eyes flick up to note E'ten approaching, her tense, motionless poise of prepared muscles no better than any of the prey inside the grounds' boundaries. "Hey," is low, late, made out of a forced relaxation. Hands swiftly, with questionable subtlety, fold the hide in front of her and tuck it away, under her shirt and into the back of her pants. When he's near enough, she undoes her legs to stand, defeating the lowness of her position. "Sit. Sit." Spoken as a dismissal of Serah's attempt of standing, E'ten kneels down onto one knee while giving the mealtime by the brown dragon another look. "How are you and Nazguwynth," he asks, observing the reactions before folding one arm across the perched against leg. "Besides clearly.. he's hungry." It's getting on for evening when the faintest stab of worry drifts from the mind of Fort's senior queen and touches those of the dragons of her Weyr. Elaruth struggles to contain it, determined not to let it get out of hand, but /something/ or /someone/ has her tensed and on her guard, the sound of scattering sand grains and the snap of wingsails flared to cover her precious clutch edging in against a wash of... blue? /Blue/? (Elaruth to all Fort dragons) From high above, Isyath's presence is likewise felt across the Weyr as she senses her dam's distress, although /she/ is uncertain of the cause of it. (Isyath to all Fort dragons) "He's //reveling//." Spat out before Serah can temper her reaction, disgust evident and without an attempt to hide it, though she briefly regrets the admittance. "We're not a-- " Whatever further she's snapped her jaw shut on hardly matters. She's still tense, trapped between sitting and standing, and an abrupt change of her mind lifts her to her feet without apology in a snap of coiled muscles. "Whatever." Crowded, crowded; too close. A rocky roof so near as to brush against wings; the lash of pain as fibre /bumps/ and /scrapes/. Need space. Only meant to-- And falling, diving, down, down towards a golden sea. (Yalzurth to all Fort dragons) To all Fort dragons, Adiulth reacts to the distress, the fringes of the emotion at the very least prompting him to ask, « What is wrong? » Blood-red spatter, a muck of putrid scent beneath a mist-- the relevance is in the tinker of investigative bones, notably chiming in from the brown only at the notion of the /clutch/. Eggs. Unprotected life. It's to Yalzurth that Nazguwynth reaches privately, possessively, a wall of steel and tribal chant. (Nazguwynth to all Fort dragons) On the heels of Nazguwynth's stretch rides a wave of pressure, Khiabeth likewise reaching for their clutchsibling. Buzzing series of lightning sweeps off of her touch, seeking to defend him from- what /is/ that? Alarmed, and confused, the green's mental voice is /loud/. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) "You can learn how to manage that," E'ten begins to say reassuringly with a smile. A smile that suddenly disappears as his head turns in the direction of the Hatching Cavern. "Damn." A pause and then, "Adiulth!" What's going on? He doesn't need to voice such things as he looks to Serah and standing quickly. "Stay here with him. We don't know what's going on," he says in a clipped tone, eyes looking towards the barracks and then back to the girl. "And above all be careful." « They-- » is as far as Elaruth gets before fear and anger both blaze white-hot in an agonising rush of atmosphere so uncharacteristic of the little queen, tugging at the minds of her queen-daughters and yet pushing at one particular presence at the same time, as the shadow of twisting and twirling wings brushes through the too-near dawn starscape. « No! /Away/! » she shrieks, bracing for impact or a fight. (Elaruth to all Fort dragons) No twitch in Serah to follow, except eyes that harden, jumping to the caverns with a startle she attempts to hide but may reveal that she's missing half the conversation. "I can help," comes out suddenly, crisply, but with confidence: flat and practical. Less so than the bunching that overtakes Nazguwynth, dismissing the remains of a kill with a flick of overly curled talons tossing the corpse across the plains in two pieces, entrails creating gruesome roads. With the power of his huge back-legs, he launches, hissing a noise likened to the beat of his shadowy wings-- his target, obvious. When Isyath senses Yalzurth, her tone changes, and while not /protective/ as such, the sense of familarity eases her thoughts for a beat, before Elaruth's distress reels her in. With a /snap/ she is drawn in, downwards, towards the hatching grounds, the coldness of her thoughts blanketing the Weyr. (Isyath to all Fort dragons) To Nazguwynth, anger is intoxicating-- fear doubly so. His mind's oppressive, narrowing in on the prey of confusion, when he launches from the grounds, arrowing for one thing and one thing only-- his flock-mate. (Nazguwynth to all Fort dragons) "Come on! Just keep away from Elaruth," E'ten calls already turning towards the hatching caverns while Adiulth is already taking to the skies. Eyes already whirling less of blue tinged with yellow, the bronze angling towards the hatching cavern. "If we need to do anything, can you follow my lead?" And all the while, his dragon is filling him in. Falling too fast. Too fast, too near, too-- They can't even see them now anyway. Red eyes. The glint of pale gold. He reaches, clawing desperately, painfully, at the minds of Khiabeth and Nazguwynth, as if he could haul himself closer or them nearer. Maldoranth too. But then there's that other voice, that frightens away any plans he or his might have had. /Away/. And so, fall angled into a low swoop, they are there and then they /aren't/, gone blindly. (Yalzurth to all Fort dragons) Beyond a glint of hardness, as quick as a spare ray of sun from the cloudless sky, at the mention of the gold's name, Serah's clear, her nod precise and dismissive of any nonsense. Boots hit the ground already at a brisk pace-- one that Nazguwynth has well beaten with his powerful wing-sweeps, now changing, twisting. The guttural noise emitting from his thick, blackened throat halfway a battle cry that grits Serah's teeth. To all Fort dragons, Adiulth is not too far behind Isyath, having just taken off from the ground with strong beats of air propelling him towards the hatching cavern. Focused on what is happening to such a degree - one moment he senses something. The next? Where? Where? Where? Likewise does Khiabeth stretch towards her clutchmates. Here. /Here/. And then a moment of silence, a beat of nothing. Then: the noise that comes from Khiabeth is just that- pure noise, distress and loss. Lightning arcs painfully off the small green, racing everywhere. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) Racing out of the barracks, Reesa's wide-eyed, her hair messy- a testament to her alarm, no doubt- she pauses to get her bearings for a moment. It's to Serah, not E'ten, that she looks, makes a dead run for the other pseudo-weyrling. "Khiabeth says- what's wrong with S'fin?" she's casting about, but she can't see the blue's rider. And then- it happens, and at the same time as Khiabeth's noise flows out, she lets out an inarticulate scream. Sharp: Nazguwynth's bank upward, furious, fury red like the blood of battle on his cheek paved on him like streaks from Yalzurth's claws. A guttural noise reverberates out, challenging, primal. Banking towards the Hatching Cavern becomes circling above, a vulture seeking straight for the remaining flock, gathering them to him with a hard, thunderous drumbeat. Khiabeth's lightning, pain he accepts, uses for strength to return to her. (Nazguwynth to all Fort dragons) Awful, crippling fear turns to grief so, so quickly. Elaruth's keen rings high-pitched through the dragons of Fort, the physical noise of it reverberating through the hatching cavern one of the few real sounds still-forming minds protected by mere shells have heard from their mother. Hunched over her clutch, wings drooping more than shielding now, she trembles, the glimmer of gold washed from her hide, eyes a sea of grey. (Elaruth to all Fort dragons) Nothing. No more. Nothing, nothing, nothing... (Yalzurth to all Fort dragons) Too late, the pieces come together. Isyath can be seen alighting on the upper ledges of the hatching caverns, /pressing/ other dragons away from her dam and her eggs. Moments before the younger queen throws her head back, keen riding out across the Weyr on the heels of the other dragons. (Isyath to all Fort dragons) The scream is enough to catch E'ten's stride and almost turned sprint mid-stride as he comes about with a look to Serah. Crisp. He's in a firm mindset of keeping everything less frantic than it already is - not entirely his fault in moving the anxiety even higher. "S'fin. Where is he," he asks Serah, eyes already looking to Reesa to gauge exactly if she's in danger of keeling forward or back. And then it hits. The keening that begins to drain some of the color out of his face as he looks towards the caverns. Mindful of nothing except the nearness of her clutchmates, Khiabeth cleaves towards them, though the level of her distress doesn't abate in the slightest. /Yalzurth/- the stretch for him is met with cold silence, and it is beneath the safety of Nazguwynth and Maldoranth's presences that she continues to keen. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) To all Fort dragons, Adiulth backwings along the higher levels of the hatching cavern, his earlier angle changed as his head lifts higher to join those other draconic voices lifted aloft. Too late. Not fast enough. Having instinctively whipped around to meet the urgency of Reesa's approach, Serah, her face a solid rock of dead emotion, lip twitching only as her family member's shriek rends a hard tremor in her, grabs fiercely onto the other girl's shoulder, pulling her straight up against her body in a tight embrace less of love as a ferocious protectiveness. Knees have locked; she //is// a rock, glaring overtop the shoulder she's locked her arms around at E'ten, eyes fiery, cheeks a ghastly color in her sudden intensity. "Reesa," staring at the male rider, but addressing the young woman, "Reesa, we're going to find S'fin." //Now//. Shrieking air tells of Nazguwynth's wicked descent, straight down towards the hatching cavern-- then, with a hard, wing-straining twist, he sacrifices the attack, cawing, tail hissing as he streaks for the lake, //bodily// coming up against Khiabeth, throwing himself into her to move her-- to get her to go where he needs, far, further away. Get off the ground, out of the Weyr. (Nazguwynth to all Fort dragons) Clinging desperately to Serah, Reesa's shaking, looking up at the other girl like she's certain the brownrider will know what to /do/. "What's happening? /S'fin/-" she goes silent, breathless, stilling at the certainty of Serah's voice. "We'll find him," the greenrider echoes- twisting- looking for Khiabeth, for Nazguwynth. For surely, she means /now/. There's no immediate reaction- Khiabeth continues to radiate distress, and it's only Nazguwynth's insistance that finally gets the dragon moving. /Away/? Her keening fades, though her mental distress doesn't abate as she launches into the sky, urged on by her brown sibling. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) "Was he riding, flying with Yalzurth?" As much as E'ten would want to soothe, there's also a need to find out what happened. For now, he doesn't approach the pair but his eyes quickly settle on Khiabeth and then Nazguwynth before something else comes blazing into his thoughts. "Calm your dragons. While we can't keep them from keening..." Peering at the green already taking to flight, he tells the two girls far firmer than he has to date - if only to get their attention. "Tell your dragons to /land/." No flexibility in the matter. "Or /I/ will." Isyath remains a stalwart- if unlikely and unexpected- guard on the ledges. Even Adiulth's approach is met with /pressure/ and /urging/ to leave. Elaruth... the stars of Isyath's thoughts stretch towards her dam, though they lack their usual vibrant sparkle. (Isyath to all dragons) To Isyath and Elaruth, Adiulth's mental voice is entirely silent. One could drop a stone and it would be swallowed by the lake of silence as he asks « Yalzurth's rider. Was he with him? /They/ want to know. Mine /needs/ to know. » « Gone, » Elaruth confirms in a hushed whisper, her sunlight gone and the tang of salt fierce and bitter in the air. « ...All gone. » (Elaruth to Adiulth and Isyath) "Hey," her voice softened, it's still to E'ten for a second, before Serah twists, pushing Reesa out from against her with a harshness made of necessity, putting the girls eye-to-eye. "Was he there? Was S'fin with Yalzurth, in his thoughts?" Wrong, isn't it; for shouldn't she know. Only this stops her from marching, taking off for the caverns in their single-minded purpose, the importance of needing to know first. From ignoring E'ten entirely, dark eyes shoot up to him, scowl transforming her features, "What do you /expect/ them to do?" Her gaze jumps, just for an instant, to the insistent winging of the dragons, of Nazguwynth leading Khiabeth to cover, "You've /done/ something to Yalzurth." A hand squeezes Reesa's arm, impressing strength or meaning. « Gone, » Isyath adds in a soft echo of Elaruth's, cold and distant. (Isyath to Elaruth and Adiulth) Reesa's hand grips at Serah's arm as she puts her away enough to look at her, as if the greenrider's suddenly afraid Serah's going to let go. "I- I don't- I think he was." The answer is distant, wooden, and it's only when E'ten's sharp words wash over them that she finally looks in his direction. "/You/ can't make them." /This/, at least, she knows. Khiabeth follows in Nazguwynth's wake, trusting the brown to protect them. To all Fort dragons, Adiulth doesn't fight the pressure that he feels in Isyath's touch, backwinging a bit with only a stretching look towards the caverns. It's a brief thing before a wide arch is made which turns his direction towards Khiabeth and Nazguwynth - both seeming to go somewhere. « You should be with your riders during this time. » It's a reasonable tone that the bronze has, even though there's a lack of sound or anything tagging his usual voice. Between the two girls and the information that Adiulth relays, it does little for E'ten except for a tightening of his jaw and a brief closure of his eyes. To compose himself if nothing else as he looks between the two riders. "S'fin was with Yalzurth, that's what I hear from Adiulth. They both went between but didn't have anywhere -to- go." That much, he's able to discern for now as he finally decides to walk closer to the pair. "But your dragons need /you/ to reassure them." He hasn't tried to do what he knows may or may not work, but the bronze does well enough to herd. "While they do well enough on their own, they also need you for explaining things like this." Keeping a firm grip on one of Reesa's upper arms, Serah's skids backwards at E'ten's approach, dragging the greenrider slightly behind one shoulder. She's halfway caught in a swallow, throat trapped and tight, face pinched painfully in an effort to stay as blankly stony against the barrage of possibilities. "And what is so reassuring about that?" Retorted crisply back, yet, sidling another step backwards, she leans her head conspiratorially close to Reesa, nodding low and private, "Stay with me. Stay cool." Silently: //I've got you.// Her hand jumps up to the back of the blonde's neck, squeezing, fingers driving into her hair, aggressively reassuring. There's a faint noise of surprise from Reesa, who allows herself to be dragged backwards by Serah, continuing to cling to the brownrider. She, at least, doesn't seem wary of E'ten, teary eyes fixing on him with a furrow of brow. "They've gone." She repeats it, dully, then with more intensity, "/Gone/. Serah," to the brownrider, pleading, "We have to find them, /now/." It's after, when it's too late, that Ebeny and Laurienth return from checking that out-Weyr duties are being completed by senior weyrlings to a satisfactory standard. Laurienth dives over the rim of the bowl in a breakneck dive, only adjusting the angle of her fall to make a landing at the very last second, right when it seems that she /won't/. Her rider slips down from her straps almost the very second that the green has all four paws on the ground, helmet ripped off and gloves shoved into her pocket. "Serah, Reesa..." Ben's first concern, though E'ten's presence is gratefully noted with a nod of her head. "Where are Nazguwynth and Khiabeth? You shouldn't be apart at a time like this," the Weyrlingmaster entreats. Every touch that nears Khiabeth earns painful zaps of lightning, the small green clearly set on following Nazguwynth's path, seeking distance. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) To Khiabeth, Laurienth is well-acquainted with lightning, almost immune to it, but that doesn't stop those zaps from setting off sparks along the dark mental pathways of her mind. « Khiabeth, » she calls, perhaps trying to mimic the more mothering tones of her rider. « Your Reesa is here. She needs you. You should not leave her to struggle alone. » "/Nothing/ is reassuring about this tragedy but they need to know that it won't happen to them. They're safe here," E'ten remarks, focused so much on the pair that Ebeny's arrival isn't noted until hearing her voice. For all of the actions to date, he does think to pause his footsteps towards the pair. For now. "You /can't/ find them, Reesa. Unless you want to share their fate." Flickering his gaze between Serah and Reesa, it's the latter that he looks to even though his additional words are for the Weyrlingmaster. "Khiabeth and Nazguwynth are wanting to leave or go somewhere and their riders won't ask them to come back." Challenge on Serah's face asks //are they//-- safe-- tensely leaving him only to whip over to Ebeny: an animal noting a second foe, their numbers now even. "Shhh," she hisses to Reesa while staring down the other two riders. "He thinks they're lost, Reesa." An aggressive note keeps her voice from being able to be comforting, no soothing here but the firmness of Serah's defense, strength of her convictions meaning to flood straight into the greenrider, even if violently. "For good. But, don't worry, we'll make sure." Lack of trust fuels her words more than an inherent hope. Everything forced out from a tight jaw, nearly gritted teeth. Finding Ebeny, scowl present but less formed against the woman, she raises her voice to say enunciate carefully, "I think we should go and see about N'rad." Levelly said, testing freedoms. "They're fine. They're /fine/. I hear them," Reesa whispers, of their dragons, as both Ebeny and E'ten ask after them. Her definition of 'fine' is however, probably markedly different to a Weyrlingmaster's, though. It's probably Serah's words more than the tone of them that upsets the greenrider, rubbing at her eyes fiercely as if trying to hide the tears that leak out. But it's the last that stirs her to action: "N'rad!" she echoes, fearfully, and she starts to take a step towards the barracks, not really giving much heed to Serah's testing approach. To Laurienth, Khiabeth's distress is an audible thing as the other green reaches out. « She has Serah. I have Nazguwynth. » There's an echo of another name, the blue's, in between the sharp, painful jolts of lightning that dot her thoughts. Levelly-said, maybe, but: "No," is what Serah earns from Ebeny in return. "I think we should call your lifemates back and see that they're okay before we do anything about anyone else," the greenrider insists, standing her ground. "You belong together, whether you like it or not, and you'll only hurt them further now if you don't calm them down and bring them home." She casts her gaze skywards, futile in her search and knowingly so, from how soon her focus returns to Serah and Reesa. "You are only adding to the chance of their jumping Between and getting lost just like S'fin, the longer you allow them to do this. They need you to be sensible. They /need/ you." Elaruth's voice is hushed, a mere whisper against minds that may already be full of other, louder voices. Granddam calls for grandchildren, the pulse of soothing, rosy light reaching out to them. « Come home, » she calls, a thread of something more woven beneath; something persuasive granted her colour. « You are needed. You are wanted. » (Elaruth to Khiabeth and Nazguwynth) Having guided them to the high-ground, he circling her from an advantageous hiding place, Nazguwynth shimmers silver metal to his sister: protective, but with the capability to cut sharper than any knife. Steel and bones surround her; he prowls, wordlessly impressing upon her, sparks of anger bursting through like spears when he can't hold it back, until it's reined in. He flies, and he thinks, and he tells her coolly that, in order to find out /what/ happened to their flock-mate, they will return. And pretend all is right. //But it is not right//. (Nazguwynth to Khiabeth) "Hearing is not the same as being with them, Reesa." It may be far easier to answer the greenrider's concerns first while Ebeny attempts the more reasonable track. "Your dragons should be your first concern right now. As much as it's good to be concerned about each other and even I'd encourage it... you both need to be with your dragons. They'll be with you forever. Adiulth's following them, Ebeny. But neither are inclined to return of their own accord. Or summons," he thinks to add. To Nazguwynth, Khiabeth projects, « /It is not right/. Khiabeth's echo of that is wordless but certain. Normally the green's love of flight would have her twisting and turning in the skies, weaving between the brown's circling path, but today is not that day. Slowly she turns, her path leading them unerring back towards their lifemates. And if Khiabeth's more susceptible to the summons from Elaruth, well... at least they're in accord this time. » /It is not right/. Khiabeth's echo of that is wordless but certain. Normally the green's love of flight would have her twisting and turning in the skies, weaving between the brown's circling path, but today is not that day. Slowly she turns, her path leading them unerring back towards their lifemates. And if Khiabeth's more susceptible to the summons from Elaruth, well... at least they're in accord this time. (Khiabeth to Nazguwynth) Slowly, the sense of Khiabeth's presence nears the Weyr again. Whether it's urged on by Elaruth's summons, or the silent, hulking shadow of her clutchmate is hard to say. The green's flight is subdued, none of her normal buoyant antics, making a beeline for where their riders are gathered in the bowl. (Khiabeth to all Fort dragons) What first goes unanswered's abruptly successful: Nazguwynth, following from a higher vantage point above Khiabeth's returning presence, winging towards the bowl. Only the shattering crash of bones smacking together is known of his voice, till he's seen his green flock-mate to her rider. Then a cool crisp breeze, smelling faintly of garbage and carcasses, pervades. (Nazguwynth to all Fort dragons) It's a hard fought battle scarring Serah's face with wrinkles and displeased twitches before she even begins to even out, biting down on her cheek and gripping hard on Reesa to stall her. "Home," she murmurs, distant, unhappy. Stance becoming rock solid again, her chin lowers, defeating some of the bullishness of her pose. There's but a few uncertain pauses of silent confrontation where she won't bend, until wingbeats become obvious. In the distance, then in the near, two dragons: Nazguwynth wings in harshly, diving down as if to cut off Khiabeth, revealed to just be his escort; he switches in the nick of time, banking off to the side to circle above heads. As soon as the dragons got recognizable in the sky, Serah loosened on Reesa's arm, taking a steady step backwards towards the barracks. "Go on," is spoken with a flash of a glance to the younger greenrider. It's Serah's grip on Reesa that halts the greenrider's progress, more so than the other rider's. The slight gritting of teeth depicts sullen, teenage response to authority, Reesa not liking either response, nor Ebeny's implication about possibly losing /their/ dragons: she goes white as a sheet. Her gaze shifts towards Serah- seeking- and then distantly to where the two dragons can be seen sailing silently towards them. As Khiabeth lands, she hurries in that direction, towards the barracks, just in time to meet the dragon, the pair heading inside shortly after. Frankly, Ben looks quite as if she'd like to give E'ten the biggest hug of his life when dragons return and Reesa heads towards the barracks, one hand lifting to pass over her face and prevent any tears of relief or grief for a weyrling lost. Laurienth is the one who heads into the barracks after Khiabeth and Reesa, whilst one of the Weyrlingmaster's assistants takes up a post to one side of the entryway to the spacious caverns. "Serah," the greenrider murmurs, "I'm not asking for a display of affection," she knows better than that by now, "but if you have any love for Nazguwynth at all, you'll talk at the very least. I have to check on Reesa and N'rad. We'll all be waiting for you." And that assistant will be watching. As she turns to follow after one of her charges, she settles for aiming a hand for E'ten's shoulder, a silent /thank you/. |
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