Logs:How To Be A Queen
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| RL Date: 24 May, 2014 |
| Who: Lilah, R'hin, Bristia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leiventh has some life lessons to impart to a young Fortian queen. R'hin is typically R'hin. |
| Where: Weavercraft Hall, Southern Boll |
| When: Day 18, Month 11, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
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| The Weavercraft Hall isn't stranger to visitors and their dragons, even gold dragons, but the dark, bronzey-gold that waits outside of the Hall is making something of a distraction, especially for younger apprentices. She has wedged herself as closely to the entrance and wall as possible, attempting to seek the overhang of the building to keep the steady rain from her hide. One of the youngest apprentices has gotten up the courage to approach the dragon, bowing to Eliyaveith, and reaching to press a hand against hide--. The young dragon snorts a breath over the girl, a pleased, warm rumbling in her throat that encourages her. A pair of dragons appear out of between, low in the sky. They're in close formation, circling down -- the larger, angular bronze following the smaller green like they're used to flying together, landing side by side in the courtyard of Southern Boll. A pretty blonde woman dismounts from the green and immediately walks over to talk to the bronze's rider even before he's dismounted: there's an exchange of words, too low to be heard but animated enough to perhaps be an argument. It ends with the blonde stalking towards the weavercraft hall -- with a glance at the gold that is annoyed at having to manoeuvre around her rather than anything else -- and the bronze's rider dismounting, shrugging off his flight gear, and lolling his way over to the fountain, R'hin making himself comfortable even if there's a slight gingerness in the way he seats himself. Neither rider nor dragon seems particularly bothered by the rain. « You are in the way, » a feminine voice points out, with an air of patience, like she's coaching some young child. « You cannot fit inside. » A beat, and a more bassy, amused voice adds: « Fort cannot tell size. Mine is always saying they are too big for their-- » he stops, not out of politeness, but deliberate-like as if the concept of britches are an anomaly to a dragon. « I am sorry. Please apologize to yours for me, » Eliyaveith answers to that voice, her own melodic and quiet and warm as her whirling gaze seeks out that green dragon. « I can tell size. I am not too big, but no one else was here. » She stirs reluctantly, the movement coming as a surprise to the young apprentice who is currently patting her hide and sending her scurrying back and away. Eliyaveith steps carefully away from the protection of the Hall, slowly. It isn't long after that, as if summoned, that Lilah appears from the Hall itself, stepping towards her dragon with only a flick of a glance for rider and dragons that have appeared. There's a flowing sense of amusement, though strangely it is hard to tell which dragon it originates from, the bitterly cold winds mingling with the scent of flowers in the silent response. Where Leiventh is still as a rock, Saindyth is more restless, shifting her wings to dislodge water. R'hin might be a familiar figure -- then again, he might not. He's certainly sporting more well-to-do clothes than the first time they met at the Southern Boll gather. Pale eyes do seem to be tracking both the weyrling queen and -- when she appears -- her rider, however. That sense of amusement seems to throw Eliyaveith off, make her self conscious. The heat of her mind is banked coals, sizzling against cold winds. « I will be bigger than you are, when I am full-grown, » is her response, a queenly, neutral statement that she falls to in the face of the humor, for all that she already /is/ bigger than Saindyth. Lilah's dark gaze narrows, finally catching back on R'hin as she offers, "I would appreciate it if you could keep him from--." From what? She doesn't say. "Don't upset my dragon." « And you will be the belle of the ball, » comes the bassy, low tone in turn, the crisp, cold air breezing over those sizzling coals. It's hard to tell whether Leiventh is merely indulging her, or encouraging her. R'hin, for his part, rises brows in surprise, spreading his hands: "Keep whom from what?" The way his pale eyes glitter suggests he knows exactly what's going on, despite his words. A beat, then: "I wasn't aware they made Fortian dragons so fragile. I'd have thought the injection of High Reaches blood might've bred that out by now." "She is not fragile," holds enough raw steel in the words that if Lilah's will could make Eliyaveith what she says, she certainly would be by now. "But, she is still young." Whether she is fragile or young, Eliyaveith does seem unsure of how to take Levienth's response, shifting uncomfortably closer to her rider as she turns her whirling gaze onto Levienth. Those coals grow hot, hotter still as they are encountered by cold wind, attempting to overcome it. « I do not--think I will be that. But I will be a queen, » she replies carefully. "Yet you protect her as if she were glass, not a dragon," R'hin points out, easily. Leiventh seems unbothered by the increased heat, if anything the banking of it causing more amusement as the winds of his thoughts fan them hotter still. « Are you not already a queen? Will there be a switch flipped, or will you wait until your rider allows you? » While physically there is no change, something makes the Monaco rider glance at his dragon, then back towards her rider, pale eyes even, almost expectant. Saindyth shifts her wings again, the scent of flowers threading through that cold wind. « We are weyrlings, » Eliyaveith answers simply, the melody of her words enforced by those coals sparking and catching fire underneath that wind. « Until we graduate. Then I will be a queen and she will be a weyrwoman. » She is careful in the construction of her reason, her gaze turning briefly to Lilah before she returns her weighted attention to Levienth. "Am I not supposed to protect my dragon? Isn't this what we were bonded for?" Lilah counters with a wry edge to her words, a challenge held there as she levels her own look on R'hin. It takes her a moment, but she finally identifies, "We met at the gather." Amusement floats in the twists of that cold wind, again, this time definitely at her: « You are a weyrling, » he concedes, « Yet you are also a queen. Those things are not mutually exclusive. » There's a strange sort of patience with the way he explains it, like he's used to pressing his point home with different tactics. "Is that what you think?" Laughter's foremost in R'hin's voice, though it peters out into a sharp hiss as he presses against his side. "You oughtn't make me laugh. I'm supposed to be being punished," this, too, is said with a breezy amusement, a dark chuckle exhaled before he adds: "Haven't you realized yet -- it is they who protect us, not the other way around? We haven't their instinct for self preservation and their capacity for logical reasoning without all the emotional baggage of a lifetime of memories." The slight twitch of lips might be confirmation of her guess, yet all the bronzerider does is gesture to a spot on the edge fountain, as if it was a plush seat and not wet stone out in the midst of the rain. "You insult me and laugh at me, and then you expect me to sit down next to you?" is dry as Lilah takes in that gesture and only answers it with the curve of a brow upwards. "Whoever is punishing you isn't doing a very good job at it." Eliyaveith isn't quiet a mirror of her rider, but neither does she appreciate the amusement directed at her. There is a huff of an imperial noise that escapes from the gold, and she starts to draw herself up larger, using all of her bulk to make herself appear bigger than she is. « I am a gold and a weyrling, and I will be a queen, » she insists, firmly. "Oh, you have no idea. She's very good at punishment. Sitting still is a punishment," R'hin counters. "And there's no need to be uncivilized," he adds, as if she were the one insulting, not him. Silence, as the cold winds abate abruptly, then finally: « Are you having an identity crises? » the bronze wonders. « You appear more like those felines who make themselves big. » « I do not like you, » whispers hesitantly in their connection, as if it were a thing that Eliyaveith does not often say and is merely testing out the idea of not liking someone, melted metal heating the thought. The gold remains rigid, unmoving, as if she were to deflate now that it would only be giving in. Dry humor edges Lilah's own words as she replies, "If that's the punishment you were given, I could give her better ideas. I think you have probably earned them." From Leiventh's perspective, it is like the words were never spoken -- there's no change in the shifting breezes of his cold winds. « You ought to come to Monaco. Learn that you are already a queen. » "You're welcome to confer with her," R'hin allows, rubbing at his chin for a moment, before he grins, a certain suggestiveness seeping into his words as pale eyes fix on hers: "Though I think you'll find most of the punishment you're probably thinking of, red, I'd quite enjoy." "Harvesting numbweed? Cleaning up after runner shit?" Lilah suggests, brows lifting in disbelief that ignores the suggestiveness altogether. She adds, lightly, "It's Lilah, in case you forgot." Eliyaveith answers that with the solidifying of metal, cooling and hardening on his breeze to form a meshed net. « We will. It is our duty, to learn to travel to all of the Weyrs of Pern. » "You think those are punishment? I had you pegged as far more creative. Even my Weyrlingmaster came up with wor-- no, I lie. He was about as creative as you are." The bronzerider shakes his head, reminiscent for a moment as gaze flickers down. When she says her name, his gaze flickers back up to hers. Pushing to his feet -- with only the slightest of grimaces and favoring of his side -- the Monacoan strides closer to her. "I remember," R'hin murmurs, with a flickered smile. "The troublemaker." But it's Eliyaveith who receives a respectful nod from the man. Even if perhaps the intent of the bronze's words were missed, Leiventh seems oddly satisfied with that answer. "Believe me, I could be a lot more creative." A flicker of surprise seems to catch Lilah's expression as the bronzerider closes the distance between them, her breath held briefly as he murmurs. Yet, she still manages to agree, "Yes, that's me. Troublemaker and seducer, I think it was?" Eliyaveith tips her own head in a respectful mimic, focusing on R'hin at his approach of her rider as a safer target than Leiventh. "Could you?" the lilt of R'hin's voice makes it seem doubtful, as if challenging her to display otherwise. His grin widens, abruptly, though whether it's her reaction to his approach or her answer isn't clear. His pale gaze is speculative, thoughtful. "The one who doesn't dance. A shame." Saindyth's moving again, the scent of flowers in the air preceding an amused chuff from Leiventh, though the bronze doesn't move physically. Whatever passes between them makes R'hin look towards the hall, where the green's blonde rider can be seen striding towards them. "Seems I'm busted. Something about more punishment for not behaving," but the words are threaded with dark amusement and acceptance rather than dread. Lilah's dark gaze slides for a moment to the greenrider, taking her in quickly, before she purposefully steps back and away from the bronzerider with a light, "Something I am sure that you will deserve. If she needs an idea--." Despite her non-creativity before, she still offers it with the hint of a smile. Eliyaveith straightens at the appearance of the greenrider as well, a quiet rumble of noise made in the blonde's direction that may likely be apologetic. R'hin's retort is a quietly amused murmur before Lilah steps away: "Do look after that queen of yours. You ought to loosen the reins a bit." Bristia's carrying some packages, and her gaze cuts from R'hin to Lilah, then back, less curious and more resigned. "I give you one simple thing--" R'hin's hands come up immediately, "I know, I know. I fail at obeying. I promise I'll find a way to make it up--" the words fade to a low murmur as he leans in towards the greenrider's ear, the pair stopping nearer their dragons. It's not much longer before they're mounting up and the dragons are disappearing into the sky, leaving behind only a trace of cold wind and the scent of flowers in their wake. |
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