Logs:Keeping Vigilant
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| RL Date: 22 July, 2012 |
| Who: K'del, Azaylia, E'ten |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Frequent (to some) visitations can only go on for so long before something is said. Hraedhyth and Cadejoth commiserate, Adiulth is confused and annoyed(?). |
| Where: The Minds of Dragons, High Reaches Weyr/Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 4, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A light rainfall patters on and off throughout the day, making everything slick and gray and muddy. |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
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| The blue dragon has pleaded his case against Hraedhyth's confiscation of his couch. He is, of course, invited to join her, but for some reason doesn't feel the terrible urge to cuddle with a thief. Before she can properly demand for him to curl up with her, an (unfortunately) familiar presence enters her lands. It could be Iesaryth's attentions shifting from her, ebbing like the tides. It could be the murmurings of dragons who first saw the Fortian bronze appear, for as subtle as he may or may not have been. Or perhaps, she was simply that in tune with her homeland. No longer content with crawling all over her blue tribesman, the gold chose to instead commandeer his ledge. There, she keeps watch over her lands, intent on waiting out Vhaeryth's visit and seeing him leave with her own quickly whirling eyes. She is not the only one who notices, however... Is Cadejoth grumpy, even petulant, when he reaches out towards Hraedhyth with a rattle of bones and the spark of metal upon metal? « You would not consort with foreign bronzes without ensuring they made themselves known, » he says (it's not a question). « We must protect our Weyr. » From outsiders? From Fortians? (Cadejoth to Hraedhyth) Hraedhyth's mood is not so hard to place, black, smokey tension carried on her winds. It mirrors the coiling of the gold's muscles, high atop some poor bluerider's ledge. Watching. There's a grinding that morphs into a growl until both are simultaneous, her dissatisfaction mingling with the whetstone's warning. « No. » If there's any doubt, it's to see if she's somehow made this acceptable in her dealings with them. « He shows no respect. » He. Not They. Not yet. « We are. » The grinding promises: we will', should it come to that. (Hraedhyth to Cadejoth) To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth is high up upon the rim, surveying the Weyr from one of its highest points; this is how he could note the arrival of that foreign bronze, and it is from here that he confirms his daughter's words. « No respect, » he agrees, with a flicker of disapproval and distaste. « He is young, but you are younger and you know. We will keep an eye on him. » To Cadejoth, Hraedhyth is not so high, but still. She knows. Bitter, not only anger but it's spat out in a crackle of fire, « He is Iesaryth's. » Friend? Older Brother Figure? All of these things, she supposes. It's not an excuse for his actions, but for her own. Otherwise, she projects an image of her clubs wielded high as she chases out the trespassing bronze. One who would creep and sneak past their borders. A surge in her numbers, spotted warriors at the ready and all sighing at once, annoyed. But not defeated, « She enjoys him. » Is there childish gagging somewhere in the background? It's only now that Cadejoth registers Hraedhyth's location, and casts a querying note in her direction: why there? « Does she? How strange, that she should seek beyond our borders so quickly. » When there are so many bronzes (and browns and blues and greens, and golds too) here who might provide equally satisfying company, and without that lingering taint of foreign, and Fortian. But at least Hraedhyth is sensible; paternal pride is a force of strength. (Cadejoth to Hraedhyth) To Cadejoth, Hraedhyth answers without really saying anything: because it was empty. Was being the key word. But she has no time for forceful snuggling now. Now she is a looming silhouette within the rain, though it does nothing to pierce her mood and dampen her fire. « They speak oddly. » She has that much to say about the Fortians, stolen fog from another cast aside for now. The paternal pride is felt, accepted, though undeserved. « I have invited them to my lands. » Ours, the drums pound to correct. « If they must come, it will be on our terms. » This time; MY terms. Empty, not empty, owned by someone else... These thoughts are amidst Cadejoth's, but the others take precedence: he will not push too hard for information about her locale. Perhaps she simply likes blues! « That is acceptable, » he allows, confirming her invitation. « They may come when invited. Or when they announce themselves to us. We will not have them sneak in like shadows in the night. They, » the Fortians, on their own turf, « Would, » Have/Will/Do « disapprove of us arriving unannounced. » (Cadejoth to Hraedhyth) Unsettled, unanswered murmurings don't escape Hraedhyth. Not when she's on such high alert. « I do not have my own. » The barracks. « So I will ask for my people's generosity. » Even if the dragon in particular doesn't seem too happy about having their space invaded. Relief floods her with a heated, happy rumble at not being somehow responsible for Vhaeryth's social slights. Her sire's words are snatched and inspected, slow to understand before she grunts. It never occurred to her to give them the same courtesy. « I will do this when I » We. « visit. It is right to travel there, if they invade us first. » Which they clearly have. (Hraedhyth to Cadejoth) To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth's thoughtfulness marks the passing of notice between dragon and rider: and now, K'del too will be on the case of the unassigned weyrs. « My own is empty, » he offers. « And the rim can be pleasant in the sun. » And even in the rain, too, perhaps. Still, neither option is as satisfying as one's own, and his sympathy resounds. « It is right, » he confirms. « We will give them every courtesy. » He may have forgotten that this has not been done in the past... but then, in the past? They were not on poor terms with the other Weyr. Things have changed. To Cadejoth, Hraedhyth considers these new words, less anxious and willing to let them contemplate over her flames. « Perhaps. » But his is empty and there is no one there to cuddle with, against their will or not. For now, she's left the dry comfort with only inner heat to warm the ledge-looming gold. « Courtesy they do not give us. » Because they are better, her people and her weyr. Iesaryth is included, sulkily. The youthful queen isn't fond of sharing, jealous growl battling with drums that carry respect and understanding for her Sister. Neither win, feeling and understanding both simultaneously. « Do you speak with him? » Confront. Battle. Kill. Maim. It could be an accident. Just like a child's words during a tantrum, her soft venting carries no true intent. Sparks scuttle against Cadejoth's metal, dancing a staccato beat of thoughtfulness and interest. True, his is empty, and nor is he likely to cuddle with Hraedhyth (wrestle? Maybe). Still. The possibility is there. He shows off his mesh, the chains in which he binds his weyr together, overseeing them as pack-leader, sire and more. « We will show them that we are better. We know it, even if they do not believe. » Silly Fortians, failing to recognise the truth. « We have spoken. He will acknowledge us, in future. » A victory; a satisfying one, if not the blood and guts and gore he too might appreciate, in theory. (Cadejoth to Hraedhyth) There is no lost love or a warrior's outrage at being denied a snuggle by her Sire. He is Ysavaeth's in a way that is certainly not like Iesaryth and the foreigner bronze. She doesn't speak of showing them, showing everyone, that they are better. It is one of those things Hraedhyth knows. « Good. » A crude snort, blowing out black soot that may be sprinkled with iron shavings not her own. « If he is wise he will not try to be clever. » No matter how much her Sister enjoys it. A victory, however peaceful, is still that and for now it will soothe the slighted gold. Her vigilance does not suffer for it, remaining tense and watchful until whenever it is the Fortian decides to leave. (Hraedhyth to Cadejoth) To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth's approval is a warm, contented thing. All is well with the world, then. But all is not well. Not for the gold who has taken to sitting under the light shower of rain. Hraedhyth will not allow this to become a habit, especially with those she has invited over herself... Discontent makes the dragon's presence even harder to ignore, should the Fortian bronze attempt it. Those drums will grow louder, more insistant and certainly angrier should he take too long to acknowledge Hraedhyth. Iron filings are poured into her flames, placing the bilious, black smoked blame on one bronze he knows well. « When you visit. » No if, no uncertainty in the strong voice that is smoothing with each days passing. « You will announce your arrival into my lands. » A snort: unlike some who dare. (Hraedhyth to Adiulth) Ignore or pointedly delaying a response are two different things to the bronze, who corrects in his own way some portion of the assumption of visiting the western Weyr. « If we visit. » It's entirely up to Adiulth and his rider at this point, who seems to be kept up to date. « We will certainly do so. Have there been problems? » (Adiulth to Hraedhyth) To Adiulth, Hraedhyth flares in her anger, fire lurching from comfortable hearth and threatening to set everything ablaze. A shiver of cold, metallic chains manages to cut through her fury at his simple correction. It all pulls back, not a retreat but some sorry attempt at restraint before she begins again. There's no mistaking the growl in her words, « Your brother dares creep past our borders. As if I would not notice. When » Once again, the word 'if' is noticeably absent. « I travel to your lands, I will announce myself properly. » But the whole of it thunders on with bone clubs on taut skin: no, no problems worth a battle. Once, there were footsteps winding through Adiulth's mental voice as background 'noise' throughout most of his conversations. Now, there's an absence of such noise as the hint of frost that filters around Fort's bowl while his rider is otherwise occupied. « I am not my brother. If you wish to announce yourself to Elaruth, then you may. We had been told that the watchrider had been enough, that seems to have changed. » (Adiulth to Hraedhyth) Those fragile links that keep her tethered, keep her from being completely unreasonable give a whine as they strain. « It is enough... » Hraedhyth will give him that, her next words redhot and wrapped in a snarl. « When it is done. » Leaving a branded impression that no formal introduction was given to her watchrider. Sizzling still, the flames lick at the given name curiously, no harm meant for this unknown dragon. « Elaruth. She is your Matriarch? » Curiosity lacks that severity from before, her youth made more obvious by her question. (Hraedhyth to Adiulth) « Elaruth is the Senior Queen at Fort Weyr. » That should explain it. The fact that Adiulth has not yet introduced himself to the High Reaches watchrider doesn't bother him. « We shall see if we visit, Hraedhyth. » And just like that, he's the one who breaks the connection - this time. (Adiulth to Hraedhyth) Hraedhyth gives a snort, sounding both shocked and insulted by Adiulth's sudden departure. « Fine! » She tosses back, though there's a good chance that the words are no longer reaching the Fortian. « Go. I no longer wish to speak to you anyway. » Huff. Perhaps she should speak to Elaruth. Surely a queen (Fortian or no) will have some sense. |
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