Logs:Mystery Unresolved
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| RL Date: 31 July, 2015 |
| Who: Keysi, R'hin, Yesia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Nabol Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin takes a couple of weyrlings on a little detour during their week shadowing Savannah Wing. |
| Where: Abandoned Campsite, near Nabol |
| When: Day 1, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tevrane/Mentions, Bristia/Mentions |
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A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks. The week with Savannah starts out relatively boring for an oft-whispered-about wing; in that much of what they do appears to be no different than the other. There's sweeps, and drills, though there's a lot more visits to the major (and many of the minor) holds within High Reaches Area. Different, too, might be the mid-morning gatherings that usually occur in the co-weyr of either R'hin or Bristia, normally with story-sharing and some extra assignments that can often be outside of Reaches entirely. Earlier in the week, they spent nearly a whole evening at a bar near Nabol, apparently content with drinking and chatting with the locals, and the next night at a waystation further east near the road leading north to Keogh. That's the night some of the shadowees might've overheard Bristia flirting with an older man, who was keen to tell her all about a certain traveller who stayed there less than a seven ago, but packed up and departed swiftly. Cirrus drills kept them busy this morning, but this afternoon, Keysi and Yesia find themselves paired with R'hin, Leiventh leading them in a fairly monotonous seeming sweep that they might recognize as somewhere south of Keogh, with Leiventh providing them visuals but otherwise typically reticent when it comes to sharing. Savannah's accomplished something astonishing: it has Yesia's attention. Though she still seems bored with all of this business of shadowing and drilling, that's been persistent since her Impression, and can't really be taken personally by any party with a good head on their shoulders. She's seventeen and shallow, and she'll absolutely get bored with even important things for some time yet. She's been more interested in some aspects (the socializing ones, her interest in people like Bristia over R'hin) than others (the drills, the sweeps, the monotony) and today is no different. Aeaeth is much the same, her dismay with Leiventh's company most plain when they're assigned, as is Yesia's to be alongside Keysi, but they're both at least not playing sick. « Yesia would like to know, » Aeaeth tests for what might be the thousandth time this afternoon, « if we are going to go anywhere interesting. » As to Keysi's opinion of what's occurred in the time she's spent with Savannah, it's hard to say. One could never say, unlike her wingmate that she flies with today, that she's ever bored- even if some could argue she's always neutral in appearance when on the ground. Ever observant, however, ever focused and involved, the weyrling brownrider hadn't missed Bristia's flirting, nor the range at which the wing flew over the course of the area. She may even had taken a drink when trapped at the bar for such a long period of time. May, or perhaps it just looked the part and lacked the liquor touch. Regardless, being that she's intense in anything she does as far as 'riding, the fact that she may be a little more so following R'hin today may be overlooked. The small dark-limbed brown is silent for much of the sweep, as is Keysi, though between themselves there is surely a lengthy of dialogue given the subtle change in the hues of Neianth's facets at times or the speeds at which they whirl. As for herself, as whenever she's in the air, she has an inescapable, if still somewhat controlled, smile and no lack of focus for even the monotony in the here and now. « There is something interesting in everything. » Comes Neianth's mindvoice aloft the edges of ripples on indistinct watery refliections. R'hin, ever observant, has been watching all of the weyrlings closely when they fly with Savannah; his assignments are deliberate, pairing weyrlings with older riders after spotting them chatting at the bar, or after sweeps. Today's assignment has been without little input from the Wingleader, however, the bronzerider seemingly distracted. Leiventh is no help in alleviating Yesia's frustration: instead of answering, he provides another image, another stretch of well-worn track, sparse scrub, and little else other than the distant sense of haughty amusement at the chatter of the younger dragons. While at first glance their new waypoint seems just as dull as the one before, and the one before that, a sharp-eyed dragon might well spot the burnt-out remnants of a hastily covered camp during the spiralling glide around the area that follows. Both dragon and rider heave heavy sighs, in tandem, and Yesia's body may go a bit limp in the straps after, but Aeaeth adjusts for the visualization with no argument; taciturn Leiventh leaves no room for anything else. On the flipside, she still does rather like Neianth, at least enough to warrant a response even though she's put out: « You've said, » is a flat musical note and olive drab, completely unlike Aeaeth on the whole. « Tell me what is interesting here, then, if you're so clever. All I see are dead bushes and dirt. » The brown pair adjust as well for the visualization, Neianth's small-ish, crescent-touched face angling down to observe their surroundings. Keysi on his neck, angled to focus beyond his ridges in the other direction. One and the same, or so they've said, is not so far off in how they move together so fluidly in these searchings. The ripples almost still, the dark waters of his mind almost sheet-glass as he becomes serene, quiet, considering. « You give up so easily. » Sounds challenging, a chuffing sounds accompanying it that could easily be missed given the winds on the otherwise pleasant evening. But it's cut off, as either one or both catches tale of the camp site, and the reflection of his waters, aggitated and slightly unclear at first, shares it the image of it. A faint note of dissent comes from the bronze, not quite vocalizing into a spoken thought, however. Neianth's agitation catches his attention swiftly enough; there's somewhat of a pause in Leiventh's response, like perhaps he's conferring. The wintry winds of Leiventh's mental tones are a stark contrast to the summer-warm afternoon; familiar like High Reaches and yet deliberately startling. « Land, » the bronze instructs the pair of weyrling dragons. « I will scout the area from above. » For what he doesn't elucidate, instead veering away to circle outwards. The camp is set up in a clearing with enough room for the dragons to land comfortably. The remnants of a burnt campfire -- which is what caught attention from above -- have been half-heartedly covered, and there's a few other scraps here and there, with a small makeshift bed of leaves somewhat scattered by the wind. It does take someone else noticing something, but there is a shift in demeanor and attentiveness once it has been. Yesia peeks over the edge of her dragon, her small mouth in a frown, and Aeaeth says in aside to Neianth, just to make sure it is clear, « That's not the kind of interesting I meant, » before she chirps back to Leiventh, « Alright. » Her descent is swift, those big wing of hers bearing her down and down to continue that lazy spiral they've already started, until she settles on the ground and ruffles herself with a huff, dropping her nose to inspect the site. Yesia dismounts, goggles up to perch on her helmet, her own frown a bit bemused when she turns her eyes up. "Scout for what?" she asks the obvious question, perfectly rhetorical since she's in Keysi's company, but she says, pointedly, "There's nobody here. People make fires all the time." Neianth's blackened wings angle and he's quick to descend, turning on the instant Leianth instructs like a switch flipped, motions closer in agility to the blue he's sized like rather than the hue he's colored. Their landing is quick, sharp, with only a few steps to catch and halt their momentum. Keysi is almost out of her straps before they've stopped motion, a hand on leather to swing her to the ground. The moment those boots of hers hit the ground, that smile is gone, wrapped away in whatever mask it typically hides in. A hand touches to the helmet on her head as if readjusting it before walking towards the makeshift bed. The 'second doesn't answer Yesia for a long time, partially because she doesn't have an answer and partially because she's taking in details, "Aye." She says quietly, knelt down beside some of the scattered leaves. "But is this part of a normal trade route?" The question is relayed back to Leiventh by Neianth, and in addition, « Is this a search for a particular group?" » There's the lingering whisper of cold wind to suggest Leiventh tracks the pair's descent closely. Certainly, at first glance, there's nothing special at all about this camp. There's a small amount of footprints to suggest a single occupant, and little enough rubbish to suggest the stay was little more than a day. In amongst some of the leaves Keysi's looking at, are the burnt scraps of some hide that's blown away from the campfire, the writing cramped and sooted over by the fire, though with some effort part of a name might be discerned: Tevra--. Leiventh's response to Neianth is non committal, perhaps because he doesn't know, or more likely because he's unwilling to share. « He comes, » he says, instead. The bronze's shadow passes overheard, the bronze taking a wide circle before finally landing on the far side of the clearing. R'hin dismounts, striding over to join the pair, expectantly: "What did you find?" He takes in Keysi's crouched posture with interest, and Yesia's with a twitch of lips. Yesia's posture is hands on hips, lips pursed, eyes not on the relevant points at all, such as they are. She's nudging dirt into a footprint with one booted toe, tracking the rest of them until she can't anymore, which isn't far, proving among other things that she isn't much of a tracker. "Not much," she volunteers, though she should defer to Keysi. She starts to elaborate insistently, "Because they're gone, whoever they were, so they didn't leave anything. They were probably just c...is that hide, by your hand?" That for Keysi, though the greenrider is still on her feet, and she points vaguely in the direction of that larger piece, even though she can't make out any letters on it to speak of. Neianth stalks some paces away from the group, lingering at the outer rim of the clearing, watching the forest's edge as if he's waiting, expecting. There's familiarity in Keysi that shows as a hint of uneasiness betraying her stoic, intense poise. Calloused fingers shift through the leaves and soot similiar to how a tracker pursuing a large wild beast may, hovering briefly above the hide. Yesia's question gets a silent nod, as Keysi rises with the fire-surviving bit. Her other hand comes to help stretch it out, pale eyes narrowing in the effort to take in what letters are decipherable. "T, e, v-" Pause, "Tevra?" Gaze shifts first to Yesia, then to Savannah's wingleader to assess either of them for a hint recognition for the sounds, be it name, place.. whatever. With a tip of head, R'hin regards Yesia, lifting his own hands to his hips, pursing his own lips in a deliberate mirror of the greenrider's demeanor. "A shame," he utters, inititally, with a release of breath, before her words draw the Wingleader's attention to Keysi, arms dropping as he moves towards her, intent on looking over her shoulder as if to confirm what she reads aloud. There's a brief flaring of nostrils, as he exhales. "He came from Nabol." And while he doesn't name the Lady Holder directly, it's probably not a huge leap. There's a deliberate lightness in his demeanor, as he brushes hands against his pants. "We should head back. The darts game with Glacier is tonight, and I've volunteered you both for team Savannah." Just then. Congratulations! "The Lady Tevrane?" Yesia almost snaps at him. "He?" His mockery of her is completely lost, because even though she doesn't move she is craning her neck and standing a bit on her toes to try and see the hide as well, unwilling to move closer. And because she's gained nothing if not her healthy dose of suspicion of everyone around her, her tone goes low. "Who are you talking about? Shouldn't we...tell someone? Is Lady Tevrane in danger? Is --" A gasp, sudden. "What if it was her lover," and someone has been reading way too many romance books. Whatever the answer to those, if they come at all, is all annoyance at once again at his announcement, and she's dismayed to note, "I hate darts." "I-" Keysi's thoughts are retracted, kept to herself for the time being, as Yesia is voicing plenty of them for the both of them. "Yesia." Is short but not mean, directed somewhere towards where the concept of lovers and chapters of drama begin to arise. While she should probably hand the piece of burnt hide over, she shifts it into her jacket pocket instead. Gaze lingers on R'hin awhile longer, studious, curious at the base of it. "Why did we come here?" She doesn't seem to care specifically about the name on the slip, or at least not outwardly. And on his last note on darts, there's a brief narrowing of that look she's given him, "We just arrived. We're.. done?" Either R'hin's terribly impressed with Yesia's conclusions, or he's continuing to mock her, brows rising skywards. "He's heading away from Nabol. If he's her lover, he's doing a terrible job of it." Spreading his hands, he adds: "We needn't tell someone. I'm someone," he says, with a low-throated laugh. "It's hardly unusual for someone to mention a Lady Holder; by definition they are there to be written about." If he's perturbed by Keysi's pocketing of the hide scrap it doesn't show in his easy expression: "Why? We were on sweeps. The intent of sweeps is to take note of anything unusual, no?" He spreads his hands, "You're welcome to camp out here, if you want. Me? I'm for a cold beer and watching Glacier get trounced." "What?" Yesia sounds affronted at Keysi's gentle words, "it could be. Maybe he was...maybe someone's chasing him. It's not that out of this realm." But the greenrider is huffing now, and since she feels insulted she's quick to just cross her arms, glaring at both of them until Aeaeth looses a low croon of encouragement. "So, if you're someone, what are you going to do?" she wants to know on the tail end of Keysi's question, sounding far too sweet to be genuine. She watches the hide disappear as well, and perhaps thinks that's some form of comeuppance in not saying anything where she usually might, something about belongings and who should have what. "I'm going to lose on purpose," is the best revenge she has in the end, but may also serve later as a coverage for how truly terrible she is at the game in question. "Why is exactly it." Keysi follows his response, quieter but still always that neutral, level way she keeps her words. But she's not so outright with arguing out here. Given R'hin's pair of options, there's a determined enough choice to begin the motions to return to her dragon, for likely more personal reasons. "Written about, but not burned to be hidden." Her back's already turned, her hand on a strap in preparation to hoist herself up, she seems dismissive enough that she'll leave it alone. Maybe. And she doesn't attempt to curtail Yesia again either. Instead, "Anyway, you better not try to lose on purpose." The threat implies something to follow and not just an empty thing, the brief efforts of a grin lightening the edges of her face. The Wingleader's comment to Yesia: "You have an... interesting imagination," might actually be interpreted as compliment, but then, given it's R'hin, it could go either way. "I'll look into it. But not tonight; he's long gone, and the fire's cold." With a twitch of shoulders, the bronzerider's chuckling again. Of the greenrider's threat: "That's fine. But just so you know, losers pay for the winner's drinks." Pale gaze flickers towards Keysi, or more accurately, her back, as she heads for Neianth, following the Wingsecond's lead by heading for Leiventh. True to his word, there is indeed a game of darts in the offering. Win or lose, there's some different assignments waiting for them to round out Savannah's week; Yesia with Bristia, ogling sailors at a bar near High Reaches Hold's docks and Keysi with R'hin, with vague conversations with a series of strangers in Keogh. |
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