Logs:Igen Brawl
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| RL Date: 7 November, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, R'hin, Bristia, Jadzia, Alix, E'nest |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlings shadow Savannah, only to end up in a brawl at Igen Hold's gather. |
| Where: R'hin's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr / Gather Grounds, Igen Hold |
| When: Day 21, Month 3, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy and cold, then hot and dry. |
| Mentions: M'lach/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Forward dated. Apologies. |
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| Shadowing Savannah, thus far, has been different than the other wings. The unkind might call it undisciplined and unruly, and certainly the late-morning starts seem to jive with that. The days begin late with what feels like a casual get-together in either R'hin or Bristia's half of their shared space, wing various wingriders offering odd sort of tidbits; K'son's going to visit his cousin at the Seacraft this week, and E'nest's made friends with a lovely girl in Crom who has been whispering all sort of (apparently raunchy things), much to the eye-rolling of some of his fellows. Nita, one of the newest members from the class before the current one, listens avidly, straightening when R'hin points at her and E'nest, and suggests they visit their "friends" in Igen. While they don't seem to be behaving particularly coy, it's obvious there's a lot more going on that no one seems fit to explain to the weyrlings tagging along. One by one, the wingriders begin to leave, taking -- almost as if prearranged -- a weyrling along with them, before disappearing. Not all of the weyrlings, though, and R'hin's eyeing the two that are left -- V'ros and Jadzia -- carefully as Bristia leans in to murmur something to the bronzerider. Every unusual, undisciplined, unruly wing function that V'ros has witnessed thus far has been met with his atypical concerned face, and stoic silence; whatever the weyrling has on his mind, he's mostly keeping it to himself. It's when they're whittled down to just the two that he gives Jadzia a look askance, before settling his troubled gaze on Savannah's wingleader. "Now.. what?" Because inquiring minds - impatient, awkward kids named V'ros - want to know. "Where are we going?" It's possible that Jadzia has been a little half-assed about shadowing the other wings, but now that it's Savannah's turn, that's not so much the case. Given... things, one might even say that Jadzia is interested in paying attention. In her own, resting bitchy face sort of way. Once it's just her and V'ros left of the weyrlings, she's eyeing the bronze and greenrider curiously and then glancing at her clutchmate. "We're obviously having a hot, steamy foursome now, Roz." It's dry. Very dry. There's some more conferring -- oh, yes, they're definitely talking about the pair of weyrlings left behind -- R'hin's pale eyes as ever amused, as he walks over to a press next to his wardrobe. "First things first. You two need to get changed. Mm, farmer?" that's directed at Bristia, who sighs. "Always with the farmer." Towards Jadzia and V'ros, she asides, "I think he thinks digging in the dirt is manly. Jadzia, want to come over my side and we'll find something for you?" The greenrider's already heading for the corridor that separates the weyrs, leading the way to her cupboard, as R'hin pulls out a pair of dark, dusty pants, a linen shirt, and a hat. The clothing, while serviceable, isn't quality by any stretch of the imagination. "Should fit you," he directs to V'ros. The lewd comment from his fellow weyrling earns a frown, this one slightly sardonic - apparently he's capable of sarcasm, or a mockery of it anyway. "Doubt it," he mumbles, before R'hin and Bristia start talking about farmers. From thereon out, V'ros looks lost, with his brows furrowed and his eyes jerking around as they try to follow both riders' movements. "We're.." He takes a step towards the bronzerider and the dusty garb. "What? Where.. what do I need a hat for?" His anxious gaze never leaves the other man's face, not now, when there are explanations to be had. By some miracle, Jadzia doesn't start stripping as soon as the words 'get changed' are uttered. She glances between V'ros and R'hin, then offers a smile to Bristia as she moves to follow after the greenrider. "I wouldn't think he did anything for the sake of being manly. But a man is a man, I guess." Her tone is practically conversational. "For the sun, obviously," R'hin answers V'ros, as if that should somehow be obvious. He seems at ease with stripping out of his much nicer clothes and trading down to similarly plain, dusty clothing, glancing in the weyrling's direction. "You'd best get changed before the girls get back, or they'll probably try and rate you." With a flick of wrist, he puts his own choice of hat -- straw-woven -- on his head at a jaunty angle, grinning. "They really can't help themselves," Bristia replies casually to Jadzia, as she rummages through the selections at hand. "This one, I think, for you." The greenrider pulls out a dark brown dress, the material a bit lighter as suitable for the warmer weather of Igen. The dress is not nearly as nice as the one she wore to the recent hatching, and indeed, the material is coarse enough to be just a little bit itchy. That Bristia chooses a similar dress -- but in green -- might not be as much of a comfort, since she makes it look comfortable. Nothing makes V'ros move faster than the suggestion that Bristia and Jadzia might somehow linger over his nakedness, so it's quickly that he sheds his own gear in favor of the dusty items R'hin has procured for him. He shoves the linen shirt's tails into the waist of the pants, but only holds the hat from limp fingers. "Are you going to tell us where we're going?" Obviously not here. Not in the snow and cold and lack of sun. "Or do we guess?" "That sounds about right," says Jadzia like she knows that all too well. There aren't any complaints from Jadzia about the attire, though, not even about the fact that it's a dress at all. She changes quickly and without even a shred of modesty. And, luckily for her, the various scars bared while she changes don't really hint at particularly delicate skin. The grunt that R'hin gives might well be one of satisfaction; either way, he's -- after a considered moment -- handing V'ros a belt, too. "Neither," he replies, blandly. He's walking over to Bristia's side of the weyr, sadly too late to catch anything there either. "Ladies," with a grin at the pair of them, leading the way out to the ledge. Grabbing his riding jacket and pulling it on over the top of his clothes, he says to the weyrlings, "Leiventh will give you your lead." And with that, he's climbing up onto the bronze's neckridges, Leiventh dropping off to make way for their dragons, circling slowly up into the sky to wait for them. Bristia's apparently content to wait until after the other two have departed, making sure the doors of the pair of weyrs click shut behind them. Add a belt and a sour disposition to that; at least he's wise enough not to mouth off. V'ros stays some strides behind R'hin, but follows the older man to the other side of the weyr and then, out to the ledge, managing only one backward glance at Jadzia and her brown dress. Zmeyth lands in Leiventh's wake, and settles down so his rider can haul himself up into the straps. Then, they're taking off and winging higher, though not as high as the bronze, lying in wait for the others. Jadzia shrugs back into her jacket as she follows out to the ledge where Savroveth is waiting for her. There's an audible rumble of derision as he looks at his rider. Really? She's going out in that? He does not approve. Fortunately the brown allows her to mount in her brown dress all the same, dropping off of the ledge once she has and circling upwards to wait for his cue. The image is perhaps recognizable, but maybe not instantly for those not familiar with the area -- it's desert, of course, the sun riding slanted at mid afternoon, the distant banners whipping above the palisades of Igen Hold. It's not the image they've been taught previously, but one that puts them further out from the Hold. The heat of an Igen afternoon is a sharp contrast with the cold of between, Leiventh circling down to allow his rider to disembark beside the road and wait for the others to join them. Not much time is given to consider their location, nor obtuse manner in which they arrive; R'hin's quick to lead the way towards the Hold proper. It's relatively quiet, not many traveling in the heat of the afternoon -- though the gather grounds are more populated. Their group barely gets a glance, the picture of a family making a long journey to the gather. All in all, it's a very dull affair; R'hin doesn't seem interested in the dancing, nor the food, taking them in a circuit of the outer areas of the gather, before finally leading them to settle in one of the tents with some (relatively) cold beer for all of them. Wordlessly is how V'ros takes to this situation. They arrive and he's not given much time think of any arguements, because Igen is big and sandy and foreign, and he can't take his eyes off the few things he can see, much less all of the things he sees once they get to the gather grounds. He's not lagging, his strides are quick and short; not bumping into his companions is another thing he manages not to do, yet. Confusion crosses his face once they're in the tent with the beer, and his internal dialogue is easy to read: we came all the way here for beer? He should know better. Unlike V'ros, Jadzia comments on things here and there. But not in ways she might usually, sounding more cheerful and even smiling shyly at a person here and there as they pass. Once they're settled in the tent R'hin leads them to, however, Jadzia is grateful for the beer. Especially since her precious flask is back with her jacket in Savroveth's care. Of course they came here for beer. It's not the best beer by any stretch of the imagination, but after the heat of the afternoon Igen sun, it's welcomingly refreshing if nothing else. Bristia's comfortable, chatting easily and responding to Jadzia's comments as they walk. When they settle down, she crosses her legs, and takes a careful look around the tent. R'hin, for his part, is oddly -- unusually quiet -- but it might become obvious why soon enough. They're not the only ones who have taken refuge from the heat in here, and for much longer than they have -- one table over there's a group of people, undoubtedly riders from their dress and conversation -- talking loudly about K'yan, the current Igen Weyrleader. "We all know he's going to drive his Daireth into a wall if he has to to avoid catching Breileth again!" This earns guffaws and snorts from around the table. "Good news for me!" one of the older riders says, puffing up his chest. "As if you even have a hope of catching a gold, much less a senior!" another retorts, to more laughter. "Better me than a foreigner," the bronzerider says with a sniff, glancing around. Lackluster beer and Igen's blistering heat aren't on the list of things the weyrling thought they would be doing today, but now that they're here, he has a resigned sigh as he plants himself on one of the chairs. There are worse things that could happen - like chasing sinking ships in thunderstorms. His own casual look-around takes in the other riders, and he hears their talk of Igen's leadership too, but he doesn't take much stock in what they're saying; rather, he takes a sip or two from his beer and broods, in continued silence, and takes to watching the colorful Igenites that pass by their tent. Jadzia takes her cue from R'hin and, for the most part, stays quiet to enjoy her beer. She certainly isn't saying things that might, you know, piss off the Igen riders. Or anyone else. Not even V'ros. She does watch the other brownrider now and then, though. She might even smile at him and his very unfancy hat if he ever looks at her. It really is a dull sort of outing, for a gather. If R'hin was trying to show off how grand a part of Savannah is, he certainly isn't doing a great job of it -- he seems more interested in the beer, truth be told. The talk at the next table continues; since they've gotten onto the talk of foreigners, there's discussion of one of Southern's bronzeriders and how he would be terrible, and they should do something about that. Whatever that something is isn't elaborated, since the group -- nearly as a whole, suddenly stand up and rush out of the tent, leaving their drinks behind, and earning no small amount of gawking from others nearby. It's only moments later that the Reachians hear the dense, crackling tones of blue Zaltoth, saying simply, « The kid needs help. » Not his E'nest, the other one. Along with that is a quick flash of some other tent, movement and smoky haze intermingled. V'ros' beer is arrested just at his lips, the hand holding the glass gone still. His eyes have that faraway quality to them, and just as suddenly don't. He swings around to look at R'hin, his confusion doubling in that short space. He's even failed to notice the other group of riders having disappeared from the tent. "Should we.." he mumbles hurriedly, already half-rising from his seat. But there's nothing for him to do or any direction that he knows of. It's just the call of a possibly in need brethren that has him jumping from his brooding state into a posture of alertness. The rise and departure of the riders draws Jadzia's curious gaze. She glances between R'hin and Bristia in the moments before Zaltoth filters through, but then she's on her feet, focused on outside in the wake of the dragonriders. She doesn't wait for direction, though, nudging at V'ros as she moves to make her way back out into the sun. Savroveth, meanwhile, presses for something more specific than another tent. Zaltoth obligingly provides further guidance; R'hin and Bristia following on the heels of the weyrlings. The group is lead towards a low-slung tent on the outer edges of the gather. It's immediately hazy inside -- the dense smoke normally meant to be breathed in deeply while resting on the scattered pillows, enjoyed and related into. The atmosphere is far from relaxed, though -- there's flailing of fists, someone (a familiar voice -- is that Alix!?) yelling about idiot Igenites, and a couple of those Igen riders they overheard talking earlier seen fleetingly in the smoke deeper within the tent. With a grimace, R'hin growls at the pair of weyrlings, "Go get Alix. Drag her out by the hair if you have to -- but try not to start anything. Anything more," he hastily amends. "Bristia, buy us time with the guards." And then he's disappearing into the smoke, too. Alix is, well... not difficult to find, given the timbre of her voice carries. She's at the back of the tent, yelling furiously, arms flailing at a taller Igen rider who is growing increasingly impatient. E'nest is there, too, dancing around a couple of other riders, his low, taunting voice keeping their attention on him. A nudge from someone else might have done the trick better; it's that same urgency that has V'ros moving with the others, towards the second tent with its haze of smoke. He stops to stare, open mouthed, at the scene. Fighting, yelling, and embroiled weyrlings - they're all quite different. R'hin's command gets a shocked gawking, the brownrider's eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "But, we can't-" And yet, they can, and so they do. Someone passes by V'ros in a hurry to get into the tent, shoving him in the process. "This is.. is this really happening," he mutters to himself, but ducks his head and squints his eyes past the thick wall of smoke he encounters as he steps into the shade of the tent. Alix's voice is the only thing that draw him in further, but he keeps glancing around for Jadzia too. As for Jadzia, there's no hesitation in the way she's slipping into the smoke and commotion of the tent. She definitely doesn't stop to make sure V'ros is following her as she follows her clutchmate's voice toward the back of the tent. She does an admirable job of not shoving anyone out of her way, but when she starts getting shoved around and her distinctive voice joins the green weyrling's, something being started starts to seem like a more likely possibility. Except it's Alix that Jadzia starts yelling at next, so maybe she'll just start something with her. E'nest is in a bit of a pickle. He can't really effectively fight the two riders he's facing, but he can't turn his back on them because they're trying to get past to help their friend; but this also means he can't help Alix either. Not that the green weyrling really needs help, not in that sense -- though she is angering the rider she's pushing at enough that he grips her wrist to stop her striking him with a low growl. This only serves to rile their fellow weyrling up even more, her tone going high pitched, "You're a jerk, inbred idiot, the lot of you!" And this is about when she spots her fellow weyrlings, Jadzia first, then V'ros. She's clearly misunderstood why they're here, since she looks back at the rider and says, "You're about to get your ass kicked by weyrlings!" just as she draws back a fist with the obvious intention to strike first. V'ros would love to be anywhere but here - right now - and his face shows it; even in the midst of the scuffle, he can frown and make himself look positively awkward as he tries to make his way towards Alix and, now, Jadzia. "What?" he shouts as he gets closer, edging towards the nearest wall and away from any flying fists. "We're not.. I'm not.. Jadzia, no." He's looking desperately around, hoping some adult will come save them. "We should leave. Quinlys wouldn't like this." Jadzia lunges toward the unfamiliar rider and her much more familiar clutchmate, but it's Alix that she's shoving at in an effort to put some distance between the man and the greenrider and then stick herself between them. "What are you doing, you stupid little bitch." She's probably not entirely unaccustomed to Jadzia talking like this. "Get out of here before I drag your skinny ass out of here myself." There's an odd kind of heat in the air as the pair of weyrlings reach Alix. It's just suddenly really uncomfortably hot inside the stuffy, smoke-filled tent. Alix's fist follows through, except since Jadzia's shoved her away, she flails at air instead. The greenrider's expression is a mixed of affronted and angered: "My ass is not skinny!" And, with an accusing finger over Jadzia's shoulder, she adds, "You should've heard what he was saying about us," but her mouth snaps shut when she sees V'ros, and more importantly perhaps, hears him mention Quinlys. It's with a flush that goes to leave, but it's V'ros that she makes a line for, looking to hook an arm through his. The Igenite, meanwhile, stares at Jadzia, grunting, "That girl is crazy." Saindyth's light tones spreads to the Reachians in warning, « Bristia says the guards are coming your way. » Self-preservation is key. It motivates V'ros to accept the arm looping, versus his usual cringe-worthy reaction, and walk as quickly away as he can; remove the threat, stop the reaction. That's why he tries angling them towards the nearest tent opening, where they can, presumably, assimilate into the crowd until they can find their dragons. "How did you even get in a fight with them? They're a lot bigger than you," he says, low, once they've gotten out of earshot of the Igen riders. The brownrider in the brown dress glares at Alix until the greenrider is moving off toward V'ros. Jadzia glances back, still glaring, at the Igenite. But her only response is a throwaway, "Go fuck yourself," before she's moving to follow after the other weyrlings instead of waiting around for the guards to arrive. Alix seems quite fine with being steered away by V'ros, leaning in close as they walk. "Big doesn't mean better." A beat, as she gives him a sidelong, appraising look. "Mostly not." Do either of their browns notice the slight shine to the hide of their fellow weyrling dragon? Certainly, others have, and it takes some coaxing to get the green to land somewhere out of sight. Between one step and the next, R'hin's at Jadzia's side, leaning in to murmur, "Back home with you lot," like he's leaving it up to Jadzia to organize her fellow weyrlings. Quite possibly, he is, given he drops back, pace slowing down to match E'nest's slower gait, the bluerider looking winded, or... something. Behind them, a couple of Igen Hold's guards are heading into the smoke-filled tent, though they look more bored than anything. V'ros doesn't catch Alix's mood at first, and it's with a frown that he continues to pokes holes in her story. "No, but it would look bad if you get a black eye shadowing." He notices the appraisal and that's when his brows lift, startled, and he slides his arm a little farther out of the loop - distance. "Uhh.. okay, let's go before Quinlys comes here herself," he says, trying to rush the greenrider out into the open where there's sunshine and people. Once they've gotten outside of the smoke, he untwines their arms and reaches her hand instead. "Hold on. There's a lot of people and we don't.. we can't lose you again." But now he's waiting for Jadzia, brow still knitted with worry. Jadzia glances sidelong at R'hin without comment. But once he's dropped back, other than growling under her breath, the brownrider picks up her pace enough to catch up to V'ros and Alix, reaching for her arm as though to drag her along more quickly. "Come on, we're heading home." Anyone watching Savroveth is probably well aware that he's noticed the green, but it's harder to tell if Jadzia is aware of his notice or if she's aware of Alix's condition at all. Alix doesn't seem about to let V'ros off that easily, pressing closer when he edges free, and frowning when he untwines their arms. She is, at least, mollified when he takes her hand. "What, and miss the dancing?" is asked as she sighs at Jadzia, though appears to capitulate. "I want to get out of this dress, anyway. I've got a nicer one I can change into and come back later. Don't you think Savannah is weird? Like, not normal." "What you just did.. no, we can't stay," V'ros agrees with Jadzia, making sure the pressure of his hand on hers is more firm; no desire to have a rogue greenrider running free, starting fights with everyone. "You're worried about your dress?" They've all lost their sense in his eyes. He just shakes his head and keeps walking, trying not to bump into anyone along the way or swipe them with his ridiculous hat. "Yeah," he says, shrugging, "they're kind of weird. They don't.. do the normal sweeps or the normal things the other wings do, but.. today all we did was save you from getting us all in trouble." Jadzia pauses abruptly while she walks, glancing in the general direction of where their dragons are, then glancing at Alix and frowning. She glances at V'ros next, but doesn't say anything. "We need to get home," is the only thing she says about any of that. "She'll ride with you, V'ros. Check your image with Leiventh." She'd probably like to ask about Zmeyth, too, but Jadzia foregoes that in favor of expediting their return home. Alix gives V'ros a sharp look, like he's committed some heinous crime. Thankfully she's distracted from pursuing that line of questioning about her dress with the other conversation. Or perhaps, not so thankfully, "I did not get you into trouble. Wasn't going to. He just wouldn't--" she snaps her mouth shut, clearly disgruntled, now. She does at least appear pleased that she'll be riding with V'ros, beaming at Jadzia as if to thank the brownrider, picking up her pace now. "Uh." Looks like V'ros is about to object, but Jadzia's commands don't really brook argument, so he'll save those for later. "Okay. I'll.. let's go," and now he's pulling Alix, hurrying towards the dragons and away from the hubbub of the gather. They reach a visibly uninterested, lounging Zmeyth swiftly enough, and V'ros takes no time in settling himself in the straps and helping his pleased companion up as well. A little more leisurely - and not as satisfied - Zmeyth intrudes on the bronze's mental space. « Home? » marked with an image of the Reaches and its fresh snow. There's a brief, if not entirely genuine, smile offered to Alix and Jadzia takes up the rear to usher them along. She waits for them to be mounted before doing the same, slapping Savroveth on the shoulder to get some semblance of attention from him. Buthe is very interested in shiny greens and not paying Jadzia, or Leiventh, a whole lot of attention while his rider mounts. "Get her home and I won't even care," she tells the brown, who is then all too willing to check his 'home' with the bronze before offering it vividly to the green. Alix takes time to get herself properly settled, and of course has to clutch to V'ros to steady herself. Her green's thoughts are awash in a forge of heat, though she, too, provides a suitable image for inspection. A cold whip of wind settles around the three weyrling dragons. « Home, » the older bronze replies, once he's satisfied with all the images provided. His presence lingers, as if escorting the dragons mentally. Black, blacker, blackest. |
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