Logs:Inconceivable
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| RL Date: 25 October, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Jocelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Roszadyth visit with a weyrling pair in the snow. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor. |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Jocelyn and Aidavanth seem to have developed a preference for spending the little dragon's stretches of wakefulness outside, something that becomes more evident as their hours together begin turning into days. With snow sticking everywhere some hours before midday, they surely won't be the only weyrlings crunching their way through the accumulation on the ground - even if, at the moment, they're the only ones readily visible not far from the entrance to the barracks. Wrapped thickly in her usual coat, hood, gloves, the redhead's a careful step behind her lifemate as that orange-gold nose and those feet push happily into the little mounds of white, wriggling out an exploratory, small path. Snow. Not much time had elapsed after the hatching -- see: hours -- before Roszadyth and Farideh found their wings again, escaping from the cold and post-hatching elation to someplace else altogether. Days later they're still reveling in their ability to come and go, and so it's in returning, her pale golden hide resplendent against the snow in the bowl, that Roszadyth's attention shifts from her recent escapades to the small dragons nearby. Farideh descends from her riding straps and starts to angle towards the weyrleader complex, but something redirects her gaze towards bowl closest to the barracks; they linger on the orange-gold and her redheaded lifemate. Minutes tick by. Finally, pulling the fur-lined collar of her cloak higher around her chin, the goldrider makes her way over, gloved fingers curled together against the cold. "Jocelyn. Aidavanth," she greets when she gets close enough. A warm breeze heralds Roszadyth, and her scattered sunshine follows. « Aidavanth, » is affectionate and soft, like a caress of one silk-gloved hand. (To Aidavanth from Roszadyth) Burnished head poking up from where she had her nose pushed into a tiny snowdrift, Aidavanth still wears little puffs of white about her headknobs as she makes a cheerful noise of greeting some seconds before Jocelyn's attention shifts to Farideh. Eyes and mouth work through several variations of emotion before the human half of the pair settles on an exhaled, "Farideh." Forward trundles the small, brilliant creature to stare curiously up at Roszadyth's, head extending just enough so that she can briefly sniff in the other woman's direction. Hi! The gentle crooning sound Roszadyth makes is definitively maternal, but the queen doesn't stop there; she treks closer, close enough to try and nudge her daughter with the end of her snout. "How are you?" Farideh asks, studying the other woman and her myriad emotions. "Aidavanth? Settling in well?" She pulls the edges of her cloak tighter around her torso, her hands fitting to her elbows; her steady stance says she's not just here for a drive by. To Roszadyth, Aidavanth warms to that affection, leaning into it with all the comfort a small child usually has for loving embraces. There's a thread of curiosity, too; there's far too much in the world still to explore. « This is great, » she remarks happily, sharing the sensation of crunching through snow with her feet that are still, as of yet, little. Roszadyth cultivates that curiosity-- grow, little gold, learn-- with the crisp image of snow-bedecked treetops and icy mountains, from above; flying. « There a great many things beyond these walls. Great things and great sights. » (To Aidavanth from Roszadyth) "Settling, " and Jocelyn grimaces a little before it turns into a wry, half-smile. "This isn't at all what I imagined." It's a quiet admission, but one which she seems to expect her once-roommate to understand. "And yet, she's - " There's a glance down for the smaller nose that moves to meet the larger one of her mother's; Aidavanth's answering croon is warm, happy as she nuzzles against what she can reach of the paler gold. " - somehow, everything, " the weyrling finishes simply. To Roszadyth, Aidavanth thrills to those images, studying them with all of her newly-hatched delight. « The world is so very white, » so beautiful, but that's more thought than word. « Do you go to these places often? » Will she, when she's older? "No? I don't think any of us ever imagine that we'll Impress what we end up Impressing, unless you're either very clever or very unwise." Farideh's eyes stray to the little gold and her dame, but they flick back to Jocelyn, sizing her up in a slow stare. "I hope it's not terribly hard. You're in good hands. Quinlys and her assistants. Irianke and K'del. And even I'm here to help, if you need it. It's an adjustment," she answers. Roszadyth's mirth echoes in her words; words underlined by hushed feminine voices. « It is many colors-- white, green, blue, gold, red. One day you will see them all. » Yes, she will. « You do not need to rush, » she warns, affectionately so. (To Aidavanth from Roszadyth) Jocelyn meets Farideh's stare with one of her own. It's a tired one, though, and her subsequent, "We'll find out, won't we, " is matter-of-fact, resigned. "Something tells me it's going to require more than learning Giorda's system ever did." There's perhaps a flicker of something shared from one partner to the other, even as Aidavanth's careful step away from Roszadyth's nose turns into a long stretch of lanky limbs. "We've a lot to do before you can see those, " is said briskly, aloud, but it's accompanied by a small, genuine smile. "One step at a time." And the little one apparently takes her at her word, shuffling eagerly back toward the doorway, tail swishing. More wryly, Jocelyn: "I think she's hungry again. Maybe that's me. It's sometimes hard to tell." To Roszadyth, Aidavanth is reluctant to withdraw. She wants to stay in that space of warm communion and talk - but more pressing needs, for the moment, start to win out. « One day, » she agrees, even as her own thoughts turn to more food, more oil, more sleep. These things are important for reaching that day that, right now, remains far off in her future. "We will." A smile surfaces, less wry than ironic, but the weyrling's words coupled with both of their dragons' actions has her taking a step back in preparation of resuming her earlier course. "Try to keep sane. I'll be seeing you, soon," Farideh states, a mite cryptically, then flashes a smile and abruptly turns, to walk towards the weyrleader complex through the snow. Roszadyth, by comparison, will stay and occupy any of her other children who venture out in the icy weather. It is not a coincidence that a gentle, musical tune starts to play in the backdrop of Roszadyth's thoughts as the little gold recedes. Her amusement remains: « Aidavanth. » (To Aidavanth from Roszadyth) Pale eyes watch Farideh as she departs, but Jocelyn has more immediate concerns than analyzing that particular conversation. There's an awkward little nod for Roszadyth before she turns to follow Aidavanth back inside the barracks, already pulling her gloves off before she's quite crossed the threshold. |
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