Logs:Mess With
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| RL Date: 16 November, 2008 |
| Who: K'del, Rascela |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Cadejoth and Uanth practice and play; meanwhile, Rascela and K'del talk families - and then sex (again). Guess that's what happens when a bunch of sexually active young people are denied their pleasures for too long. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 3, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. It's later in the day, not quite evening but getting close; there's still enough light to see by, though, and despite the cold, there are those still milling about in the bowl. Off to one side, near the weyrling area, is Rascela. She's bundled up, hands buried in her jacket pockets and a scarf wrapped 'round her neck that covers her nose and mouth for good measure. She's just watching, quietly, while Uanth goes about the all-too-familiar process of leaping, flapping, and gliding to a landing just over there. Far down the other end of the bowl, Hailstorm is just finishing their late-afternoon drill, the wingriders dispersing and B'ren and his Wingseconds pausing to talk amongst themselves for a few, quiet moments. K'del is there, a lonely figure, accompanied only by his playful lifemate, watching from a distance, apparently waiting. But the Wingleaders disperse without paying him any mind, and, finally, weyrling and bronze turn to head back towards the barracks. As they approach, Cadejoth darts forward, eager to join in on Uanth's practice - K'del hesitates, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Hey," he says. She's probably just oblivious to whatever's going on over there, for all the attention she seems to pay to them. No, Rascela's occupied with supervising Uanth, talking with him, even if all the talking is in their shared headspace. Her posture doesn't change, shoulders squared and mien unshifting as she watches him. The brown is a clumsy thing only at the landing, which he's slowly, but surely, whittling into something a bit more fluid. The approach of another weyrling pair isn't worth a look; Uanth warbles to Cadejoth and that likely informs her who's there, as if the greeting didn't. "Hey," is shot right back at K'del, the word muffled by the scarf. K'del pulls his coat more tightly about himself, eyeing the barracks hopefully, but he doesn't move again: Cadejoth has, apparently, elected to stay, and K'del is, apparently, required to stay, too. The bronze greets Uanth with enthusiasm, a great rumble as he lands upon his feet again, executing a heavy, awkward glide and a tumbling landing. More practice clearly required. Sighing, Kas lets his hands droop, a low arc ending in his pockets. "Reckon they're going to get this down, eventually. Dunno that I'd want to be up there," meaning on their backs, presumably, "while they're doing it just yet, though." The brown tips his head to the bronze with a delighted trilling sound, appraising for a moment before he takes an ambling step away to demonstrate his method. 'Like so', or so his manner seems to say, with a gentle mental touch in the form of a casual breeze; be like the wind. Leap, flap-flap, shallow glide, stiff-legged landing. Then his head cranes back, observing the progress of his fellow weyrling. Rascela, however, barely affords K'del more than a sidelong look. "Hnh." A shrug, a slight tilting back of her head to peruse the sky. "It'll be a'right. 'Swhat they're supposed t'do." Pause. "What we're supposed t'do." Cadejoth doesn't seem to mind not being as good as Uanth at this, though his rider eyes the pair of them, lips curving into the bastard step-child of a scowl; his gaze seems to suggest an urging on, a 'Cadejoth, you're better than him', but he doesn't say anything. Not, at least, out loud. The bronze tries again, modeling his actions on the smaller dragon's, eager in both physical movement and mental touch, the latter matched by a clink-clink-clink. It's not a one move fix, but: better, this second time. Getting there. "Fly, in general, you mean? Mm. Yes. Older dragons look like a much smoother ride, is all." Delight registers in Uanth's mind in the fluttering of fey wings and excited mental chittering. Encouragement. Turn, try again; and there's that gentle, mental breeze to support the wings of Cadejoth. His landing is still awkward; Raz pays it no mind. A look askance picks up on K'del's expression and there's a vague noise, a half-snort, half-grunt, that goes without further elaboration. "Yeah," she concurs. A brow quirks. "'Course they do; they're older." Obviously. Her chin lifts, tilted toward the dragons. "They're doin' a'right." This excites Cadejoth further: he is /learning/, K'del, from someone who knows better. Good! That thought seeps into his sending to Uanth, probably by accident, but his mind stills again, as much as it ever does, as he makes his next attempt. Better still. K'del, if he notices that snort-grunt of his companion's, makes no challenge of it. He huffs out another long breath, visible in the chill of the late afternoon. "Sure, but... Eh. Suppose they are. Better than they were at first. Not as good as they will tomorrow, right?" Satisfaction is a subtle, sublime thing, indescribable even as far as Uanth is concerned. The smiling crescents of the moons are, however, an everpresent thing throughout all of their wordless exchanges. While the lesson is repeated (again and again and again ...) Rascela shifts her attention to K'del, not that it's strayed terribly far in the first place. But, for all that, her answer is just a succinct, "Ayuh." Breathless, awe-filled, with a silent, glorious howl to those moons, Cadejoth exults in the lesson, the learning, the /doing/. Again, the hope, glide, land combination, this one no better than the last, but it doesn't seem to matter. Cadejoth is having too much fun to care. Kas meets Rascela's gaze blandly, his eyebrows raising in a gesture that seems to encourage further comment from the other weyrling. But instead of waiting for it, he says, "So. Anything going on in your life that isn't weyrling stuff?" This sort of fun is decidedly alien as far as Uanth is concerned; it thrills him more to be a thing of the air as much as the earth, a chance to connect with that other aspect of self. All the better that he can enjoy it with another, can share the thrill. Rascela doesn't take the bait, as it were, the flattening of her mouth hidden by the scarf. She exhales, a thin plume of condensation signaling such. "Nah," she replies. But the brown pauses in his gliding efforts to pin a look on her and she adds, "Ain't talked t'family since bein' Searched." There's a pause, then, "You?" Shared thrill is better than singular; Cadejoth honestly thrums with the pleasure of it, spreading his wings wide to reach towards the sky with each little hop - though he takes care not to go too far, and give those wings a proper beat. "Not at all? They don't know about Uanth, even?" Kas sounds honestly horrified by this idea; his head shakes, no, no, no. "I wrote home again the other day. Eila suggested I invite my sister to come and stay for a few days. I don't know if they'll say yes, but I'd like it very much." "Shells," Raz observes, "ain't talked t'family since before I was Searched. Didn't tell da. Just left. Figure he found out some way or another." But not from her. She watches Uanth, who settles to his narrow haunches on the ground and mantles his wings, fluttering them wide before resettling them to his back. Break time for him, though he delights in watching Cadejoth. The rider speaks again with, "Figure I'm 'nuff of a disappointment bein' a girl; don't need t'hear 'em pissin' an' moanin' 'bout how I'm screwin' up the family trade." She slants a look to him, briefly. "Hnh. Maybe. Don't see why they wouldn't let 'er." K'del looks quietly gobsmacked, his head shaking just slightly, very slowly, as he digests this piece of information. "Suppose it shouldn't surprise me," he says, finally, "that you're not too fussed about family. But. Does anyway. He was genuinely disappointed that you were a girl?" Honestly? Cadejoth has far too much energy to stop - now, or perhaps ever - and takes another swing at the gliding thing, this time doing passably well, until he tumbles to the ground, his fall cushioned by slushy snow. But it's laughter, more than anything else, that he releases after; Kas pauses for a moment to eye him, reassure himself, but then it's back to Rascela. "Because she's a girl, and already, to their mind, too spunky for her own good. I think they think she'd refuse to come home again." "Boys all th' way down th' line 'til it got to me," Rascela replies flatly, her words coupled with a shrug. "Taught me huntin' anyway; took to it well enough. Had a lotta uncles; grandda was less forgivin' than they were. Ain't like I had a choice t'be born without a dick; had t'make up for it by bein' ballsier'n they were." And if it bothers her, she doesn't show it; instead, she looks to where Uanth is, his wings rattling with amusement even as he heaves himself to his feet to plod over to where Cadejoth is. To K'del, she asks, "How old is she?" "Couldn't your parents just... have more kids? Get a son that way?" asks K'del, curious now, but also confused, his face wrinkling up in concentration as he tries to accept this piece of information. "Not that I think it matters, boy or girl. /I/ wouldn't care." If he was the father? If he was a girl? The latter seems unlikely. "Would you rather have been a boy?" he adds, then, a sudden thought taking him. Cadejoth attempts to right himself, looking up at Uanth with a rumble of-- delight? Evidently, that was kind of fun. "Fourteen," supplies K'del, meanwhile. "Just." "Nah. Ma was lucky t'have me and da's afraid of tryin' again with anyone else, I reckon." It's not something she seems to have given much thought to; their issues, not hers. "Just th' way they are. Even if they ain't Holdbred, they're stuck in their ways." A boot scuffs; just over there, Uanth rumbles amusement, then drags his too-long digits through the slush. Testing. Rascela shrugs, "Woulda made it easier on long huntin' trips, havin' t'obey the call of nature an' all," she remarks of the 'what if she were a boy' thing. On the topic of his sister, though, she makes a guttural noise. "Old enough t'make her choices, ain't she?" "Oh," says K'del, probably an answer to most of what she says - from why she has no siblings, to calls of nature. "Well. I suppose." He fastens his gaze on her, looking her up and down not appraisingly, just curiously, as if all of this information requires a review of Rascela as a whole. "Sort of," he agrees, of his sister. "But, she's holdbred. We are, I mean. Not so much freedom, really, and they'll hope for her to get married and have a family in a few more turns. It's kind of just... the done thing." Cadejoth flicks his tail across the snow, beating it down with sharp motions - it shifts nicely, solidifying, then breaks apart when he flicks it /just so/. Indifferent to his curiosity, she just stays as she always is; unmoving, strangely stoic. Perhaps just stubbornly so. Rascela nods once to his words, mouth pulling to a side and the gesture unseen save for a slight twitch of the scarf. "Life happens," she finally says, "an' sometimes it don't do what ya want it t'do. Figured yer folks mighta learned that a'ready with you an' yours, there. Ain't like a Weyr's a bad place; ain't like she can't have a family here, neither." And if there's more to the thought, she doesn't give in; she's spoken too much. Uanth, of course, is amused, though he stands over here and starts to make nonsensical squiggles in the slush and snow. Arcane patterns; simple designs. And then a bit of slush-snow is oh-so-casually flicked Cadejoth's way with his tail and wordlessly blamed on some snow creature he makes up on the spot. Snow creature? Where? Cadejoth comes positively alive with this idea, his mind sending out tendrils of chain to rattle like bone-shakers, to scare away anything that might still be lurking about. Hah-hah! "I'm not a girl," explains K'del, quite calm, his shoulders shrugging easily. "I'm supposed to go off and do something, because there's not much place at home for me. But girls are supposed to go off and marry. Anyway, she's the baby. They'll want to keep her close." Ice-winged beastlings are sketched out in Uanth's mind, given life even as a bit more snow is flicked toward the bronze. The rattling chains are touched with chill fingers, the chittering mental laughter of the brown being all the more gleeful for it. "Hold folk are strange," Rascela decides rather abruptly and unapologetically. "Gotta let her be her own; ain't doin' any good keepin' her like that. Do it long 'nuff, she'll wind up like me." For good or ill, it's hard to say. Cadejoth shivers in gleeful pleasure, the creepiness of these beastlings matching with his own excitement at the -- game? Does he see it as a game? Unknown. He heats his chains, so that steam rises from the chill touch, whipping them around eagerly. Take that, small creature. "Like you? What, no longer talking to your family?" Kas purses his lips, saying nothing, neither confirmation or denial, about hold folk. "I hope they'll let her come. I'd look after her." And while Uanth is too dignified to pout, the dissolution of the creatures into puffs of steam and water is still regarded rather mournfully. No more snow-flicking follows and the brown lowers his head, long digits prodding morosely at the slush. Alas, poor critters. Rascela shrugs. "Took t'girls after da told me not t'mess with boys." Not like it stopped her from messing on both sides of the fence. "Left at th' first chance I had. Stopped talkin' t'family." Her head lifts, chin pointed to Uanth. "Impressed that'un." So, good things, for the most part; at least from her position. Not so good for family. "Be a good thing for her," she somewhat agrees. Pause. "As in... 'mess with' as in sleep with?" Kas wants to know, bug-eyed and eagerly interested. He doesn't even seem to have heard the rest of it. Teenage boy for you. Cadejoth rumbles triumphantly, tail mashing into the snow in sheer delight: he did it, he beat them! He eyes Uanth, however, noting the brown's reaction. What, he wasn't supposed to? They were /flicking/ snow at him. "What?" Raz tilts her head to him, a gloved hand finally coming up to tug her scarf down. "Yeah, why not? Sex is sex; don't really matter t'me who I'm gettin' it from. Just means y'gotta be creative. Girls are shardin' crazy," but, here, there's a bit of a twisted half-smile, "makes it interestin'." Uanth, of course, makes no indication either way as to what Cadejoth /should/ have done. His sadness passes quickly, though; the things must not have been /that/ easy to 'kill', as there's more snow now being flicked at the bronze. Not that the brown's making any special effort to hide the fact that it's his tail, but hey. "/Huh/," says Kas, digesting this slowly, though the way his smile has spread suggests he really does like the idea. "Girls," he adds, then, "Are /fun/. So long as they don't just... lie there, you know?" He pulls his coat about himself more closely again, then redigging his hands into pockets, shuffling his shoulders in against the chilly wind. Probably, Cadejoth is just pretending to not know that it is Uanth flicking the snow, though it's hard to know for sure. Out come his chains again, whipping, swinging, as the snow resumes - and he darts sideways, ducking out of the way as more gets flicked at him. And there's a bit of snorted laughter, Rascela reaching up to rub a knuckle along the side of her nose. "Hnh. They don't, not with me," now it's her turn to boast, even if it's all just matter-of-fact as far as she's concerned. "Just gotta know what yer doin'; helps t'have the same parts." Uanth, of course, is happy to play this little game; the whipping chains meet air, the chilly creatures dancing and fluttering, having learned their lesson. Such distraction is the only way to explain why the snow stops hitting ... and not the fact that the brown must now actually move to take it up again. Amusement shows itself on K'del's face, but also keen, measured interest. "You could give lessons," he remarks, all too casually. "You know, from someone who knows how to give and receive, as it were, to all of us clueless men. Which isn't to say that we don't necessarily know how to please a woman! But. You know." Uh-huh. Cadejoth seems intent upon dancing /with/ the little creatures, his body swaying and shifting in time to unheard music, tail darting this way and that as he moves. Oh - such delight! He seems intent to bubble over with it. "Was doin' it, back at Fort. Kinda. Every guy I had, anyway. Learned a fair bit from 'em, too." Rascela smirks, "Don't mean y'all listen, though." The scarf is pulled back up again, muffling the sound of a light cough. Uanth might not dance, but he does seem to ... scuttle. Over here or there, wings rattling. The creatures do all the dancing, of course, flirting with death-by-chains and having ceased their flicking of snow. It's as excited as the brown seems to get, channeling it all through the creations of his mind, rather than actively indulging. "Going to take that up again, when you're allowed?" K'del wants to know, ever so casual. "Only makes sense, really. Gets you a better time, as well as the others. Men? We're easy to please, really." He ignores that comment about listening: he's listening, after all! Thus far. Cadejoth positively trills - mentally, not physically, given his physical voice is less suited to such activities - as the dance continues, chains sweeping dangerously close to the creatures, though he seems intent not to kill them this time, but to enjoy their presence. K'del, momentarily distracted, eyes his lifemate. "Weirdo." "Yeah. Ain't no fun in scratchin' that itch on my own," she replies, shoulders rising and holding for a beat before dropping. "Just don't know 'nuff folks here." But, she'll work on it -- that being implied, if not spoken outright. Raz flicks a look to K'del, but soon finds her eyes drawn to where Uanth is. "Heh." The brown stops in his scuttling about, though he keeps the mental dance going -- the ice things are starting to slow, though, just a bit, as the dragon generating them is also a bit tired. K'del's whole face lights, for just a moment, as he digests that comment: a fellow practitioner! But he nods, only, saying, "Know what you mean. Sure you'll get plenty of - well, plenty of opportunities. And once the dragons start to chase..." This, too, draws a satisfied smile to the young man's face. Cadejoth seems mildly disappointed by the slowing of his creatures - /his/ creatures - for he is still full of energy, darting about, enjoying himself. And perhaps that's a knowing quirk of her brow at his lighting up, his ensuing comment. "Ain't sure he'll take to it well," Rascela observes, watching the brown as he settles to the ground. "But, we'll see. Seems t'like flyin', so that's somethin'. Don't seem too keen on lettin' me outta his sight, though." For the lounging brown, his eyes start to lid, the ice critters slowing further in their flirtatious gyres until they finally fall away like so many snowflakes. Apologies are spared, a thin and rather earthy rumble escaping him toward that end. "No?" says K'del, glancing towards the rapidly drooping brown. "Sure he'll grow into it. Cadejoth-- not as though he's shown any interest. But he will." He's sure of this much, nodding rapidly as he says as much. "Cadejoth's not too keen on me doing things without him, either. /He/ can do things without me, but I'm not supposed to leave him behind. Makes things fun, sometimes." Cadejoth stills, not entirely, but mostly, his tail still flicking though his limbs remain in place. He rumbles in response to the brown, respectful, though there's a note of disappointment, too. Oh, man. Not fair. "Nah, with him- it's different. Protective. Don't like th' idea of sharin' me; don't like doin' things without me, neither." Not that it makes much sense to her, but Rascela seems to understand. "Figure he'll like it once he's up an' doin'." Uanth, meanwhile, is mentally 'silent' for a little while, withdrawing into the darkened sanctuary of his psyche. A moment later and he re-emerges, as it were, sharing the crystalline shapes with Cadejoth -- giving him some ice-critter seeds, to make his own. Still apologetic, though; the spirit being willing, but the body unable. "Huh," says K'del, cogitating over this, sinking his hands deeper, his shoulders lower. "Yeah, probably. Figure we all branch out a bit, eventually, right? Still ages to go before that, anyway." It is with great, and obvious, pleasure that Cadejoth accepts these seeds, and within moments, there are critters racing about him again, buzzing here and there - treated with great delight from the young dragon. He has some sympathy for the brown, a sense of understanding. "Yeah," she answers without really answering anything, a gloved hand being withdrawn from her pocket. Curled into a fist, it's aimed for a companionable punch to K'del's arm, if he's permissive of the brief contact. In either case, Raz withdraws, taking a step back and turning toward the barracks. "Gotta get him in. Needs sleep." A moment, then, "Comin'?" Uanth, of course, seems pleased that Cadejoth is pleased, promising more seeds if he should ever want them ... especially since, as he conveys, he's the only one that knows where they are. And then a promise; another time, they will fly again. K'del doesn't seem to mind at all, amused more than anything, grinning. "Yeah," he agrees, to nothing - to everything. To something, anyway. He nods, head inclined slowly, as she turns towards the barracks. "Yeah, he looks tired. Come on, Cadejoth." Yes, it's also time for them to go in, the distraction on their way back concluded. Cadejoth is exceptionally pleased with the offer of more seeds, of more flight, of more everything - soon, he tells Uanth, wordless. Yes. Soon. And the bronze begins to follow in: the game is over, it's time to rest. |
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