Logs:Little Blue Devil
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 17 March, 2013 |
| Who: Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ilicaeth comes to Hraedhyth with a problem. |
| Where: Minds of Dragons, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 4, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
 |
| It comes like the pounce of a huge canine from out of nowhere, the intensity of Ilicaeth's communication direct, to the heart. But it's not a death-strike, nor even something bourne of playful feelings. Instead... « *pulsing, simmering ire* » Sand seemingly imported from Ista's beaches swirls gratingly, in rasping eddies that cycle repeatedly through the harsh heat. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) Scuffle. Scruffed. The pup is held in Dam's jaws, each stained ivory made of tolerance and affection, queen's mental hold loose enough for him to wriggle free. Hraedhyth is all too aware of his size, his youth, her fiery touch warm rather than carrying the true heat of her flames. « Ilicaeth. » Both his name and an inquiry to what has riled him. (Hraedhyth to Ilicaeth) He's his own odd mix of Hraedhyth and Wyaeth, and as such, Ilicaeth growls and grumbles his ire at being restrained - the blue wriggling and thrashing a bit in her fiery grasp - but he doesn't do much more, though his own simmering anger remains. More rasping sands concentrate into a black and quartz dust devil, refracting and enhancing the weyrling's scouring ire. Images of all his brothers and sisters flash within that 'devil, until finally 'caeth's sandy, dusty, wannabe baritone rasps, « Why did *I* have to be this way... » And suddenly the queen can *feel* it: almost never-ending waves of itchiness that torture the blue from near-stem to stern. Always waking him and his up in the middle of sleep, always creating havoc of some sort or another. « THEY'RE not itchy. » Not like HIM. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) Ilicaeth is allowed his tantrum, Hraedhyth watching the dust devil with patient fascination. Her drums, a familiar lullaby, are steady and strong even now, picking up tempo to keep up with his dancing, refracted ire. « Because you are Ilicaeth. » Confident despite not yet knowing the source of the blue's fury. When she does, there's a deep rumble of understanding, the brush of coarse fur that may only soothe the idea of an itch. « Does Yours not oil you enough? » (Hraedhyth to Ilicaeth) Heat and dryness. Sun and desert...one creates the other. It is meet. Doesn't change the fast that Ilicaeth's still ticked off, his black sand dust devil quickly scouring his clutchsibs out. It's a kind of teenage-ish phyrric victory in his mind. « Yes. » Pride and competence swell in reaction to his dam's noting of her offspring, Ilicaeth then subsiding back into growliness. « Alida oils my hide whenever I ask. » Grumble. Indeed she does, and the images the blue rapid-fires like a spray of bullets into Hraedyth's mind show such...including a haggard and sleep-deprived blonde, a grumpy blonde, a passed-out blonde. But always that damned ITCHING comes BACK... and even the gold's feeling of coarse fur - which Ilicaeth harshly rubs against to stop the sensation - does little to cure it. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyths black smoke is added to the dust devil, not encouraging his temper but the blue's spirit. His images are aimed at her flames, bullets caught and melted down, adding fuel to her fire. « It is because you grow. » Nothing can keep the pride from causing drums to swell, suddenly too-loud. Yes, he will grow and he will contribute to their home. Their tribe. « It will stop. Until then... » A smokey, floral scent, as the queen takes council with one who is not draconic as they are, « Ask your nannies for thicker oils. It might help. » Nannies, sitters, weyrlingmasters. Same thing. For a few moments, that black smoke enchants the blue...that is, if by enchanting, one means focusing on it and taking martial inspiration from such. And then comes the irritation, the dark ire again. « Yes; I know. » Damned uppity kids. « Mine thinks that I must surely grow to be a bronze, with how much I itch. » Silly Alida; Ilicaeth's not a bronze. He's a *dragon* that all blues, browns, and bronzes might only wish to be. Funny how that thought, though containing pride, holds little narcissism. And then, along the swell of those oddly comforting drums comes that odd, never before scented smell...along with his dam's helpful addendum. And suddenly a peal of bright green *hope* swirls into that black sand dust devil of his, instantly converting it to a simple, stinging faceful of silica and quartz again. « Better oil! We didn't know they could make that for dragons. » His ire is tempered, mellowed, banked within the granite mind of Ilicaeth, but still, it's there, dwelling latent beneath the surface. « I'll tell her now! Thank you, Hraedhyth. » A solid blast of honest gratefulness and again that green 'hope' from 'caeth, and in an instant, he's withdrawing. (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) To Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth's low growl lifts to a deep chuckle, « Not better. » That isn't what she said, and though it may be youthful enthusiasm she will not risk misunderstanding. « Thicker. It will stick to your hide more and not dry so quickly. » Drums thunder on, a powerful march for a powerful (little) blue's retreat. Just before he think he can withdraw with all of that irritated dignity, there's a nose-push at his hindquarters. Off you go, pup! It's that pre-teen 'aww Mooooom! GHEEZE!' feeling that the gold gets from her tough-as-nails little blue offspring when Hraedhyth chooses to both 'chasten' and nose him along in her matronly way, Ilicaeth rolling his eyes a little while grin-smirking as he hastens off to tell Alida about his grand discovery. Unfortunately, in his boundless enthusiasm over the hope that his perpetually-itchy hide will soon be 'cured,' the dragonet forgets that it's currently 11pm local time...and that his lifemate is deeply asleep for once in the first sevenday after his hatching. The queen, if very very perceptive, might hear the backlash of the blue communication with Alida when she finds out he woke her up NOT to be oiled or fed for once. « ILICAETH! » (Ilicaeth to Hraedhyth) |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Little Blue Devil"Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 18 Mar 2013 08:27:34 GMT.
I do so enjoy dragon/dragon scenes. ^^
Leave A Comment