Logs:Need More Greens
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| RL Date: 14 October, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, K'del, Z'kiel |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In the galleries, there's talk of dragon numbers and politics! |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions |
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>---< Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr(#290RJs) >-----------------------<
Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of
carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground
-- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers,
and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from
falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into
the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off
some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even
feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.
The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire
cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the
expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is
easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a
broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels
that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks,
however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. The eggs are still on the sands, and the queens too; much to the dismay of many. It's snowing outside, but warm in the hatching cavern, which makes it a still-perfect haven from the coldness of the climate. One might even say the galleries are crowded today, though certainly nothing like the scene at any hatching. On the bottom row, Farideh's seated between two separate piles of hides and clutter, with a clean piece of paper in her lap that she's busily jotting notes on, only glancing up to look at the topmost hide to her right. She's seemingly oblivious to anyone else in the galleries, or anything really; not even paying attention to Roszadyth, who keeps nudging one of the darker eggs around its brethren. K'del's not really inclined to spend large amounts of time in the galleries, even when his dragon is sire of one of the clutches; but then, Cadejoth, too, is inclined to spend time away. For now, however, the pale bronze has escaped the snow outside to curl up alongside his mate, and his rider stands, now, at the front of the galleries, staring moodily out over the clutch(es). Surely he's aware of Farideh; equally surely, he's not (yet) made any move to interrupt. On the other hand, Z'kiel's been spending a fair amount of time down here - though usually at hours when others aren't inclined to visit. Today's a little different, given givens, and he enters the galleries with a notepad of sorts tucked under an arm. His gaze shifts back and forth between clarity and draconic communion, with no immediate sign of Ahtzudaeth to be found anywhere in the general vicinity. It's in a moment of clarity that the once Igenite realizes the others in the area; whether it's seen or not, a pair of salutes is snapped off - for K'del and Farideh, respectively, before he ventures toward the front, to a point nearest the eggs. No audible greeting is given, but the fact that his silent footfalls have ceased to be so silent is telling enough. Farideh writes down a couple more words and exhales loudly, cheeks puffing out as she reads over whatever she's just written. Then, her eyes lift, in enough time to catch the salute Z'kiel gives her and his subsequent one to K'del, which leads her eyes over that way. "Z'kiel," she greets, first, with a convivial tone and polite smile. "Weyrleader," is to K'del, second, and more polite. She sets down her paper, to her right, covering the hides, and her pen next. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the eggs were hatching," would sound wry, except she's looking around now, at the many faces filling the galleries. "I think we're all just ready for them to do so," is K'del's mild reply, made as he turns to acknowledge both riders in turn, if a little distantly. "The waiting's always hard, and after everything..." He stops, as if to break himself out of some train of thought that displeases him, and then shakes his head. "Plus the weather. Excuse me." So much for visiting the eggs, because now he's hurrying himself out again. Hnnnh. Z'kiel slows a bit and, at that greeting from Farideh, he looks properly in her direction. "Soon enough." A beat. "Hopefully not too soon." He sucks his teeth, brow furrowed just a touch at something or another. The bronzerider shakes his head to clear it and moves to take a seat somewhat behind and to the left of Farideh, putting a touch of distance between himself and whatever she's working on. His notebook is opened and he looks out over the eggs with a slight pull of his mouth to one side. When K'del speaks, he looks over - but just as he's opening his mouth to reply, the Weyrleader's gone and he, in turn, settles into a throaty grunt. "I think it will never be too soon," Farideh replies, after silently watching the weyrleader's departure with a furrowed brow. "I want my dragon back. She loves her eggs too much, but I miss her. I might be jealous." She glances back at Z'kiel, lips transforming into a sublime smile that reaches her eyes and causes a crinkles at the edges. "Do you have any bets on them? Guesses? Rumors? I always love to hear what other people think-- it keeps me out of my own paranoia." There's a slight nod, a barely there gesture, and Z'kiel straightens up again. Whatever he's here to do, it can wait. "Going to be her where you are, soon enough," he observes obliquely. "Or not soon enough." A shoulder rises and falls, leaving that speculation where it is. There's a bit more teeth sucking before, after a time, he shakes his head. "No. I'm no good for guesses unless there's a gold egg." Dry, that. "Bad about it since Igen. Don't think I'll be any better. Even if they're all greens, all twenty eight, it'll be good for the Weyr." A beat. "Mostly. Ahtzudaeth has his thoughts, but he's not telling me just yet. Wants to wait a little before speculating." "It's strange how quickly I took it for granted. Flying with Roszadyth-- being part of the flying team. It's not the same as getting a ride with someone else, when she can't come with, and we can't go between wherever we want." Farideh's lips purse as she turns a contemplative eye over the sands, and the gold steadily shuffling eggs for the spectators. "No? I don't even know if there's one of those. None of them look like-- not like Roszadyth's egg. Not any of Niahvth's either. If they all hatched greens, I don't think anyone would complain. Everyone gets a happy ending, that way, unless, of course, one has aspirations, but--" Now, she shrugs, unable to speculate properly. "No? Ahtzudaeth." "There are worse things," Z'kiel replies blandly and, after another moment or two, packs up and scoots down to be on the level with Farideh. Easier to talk that way. "But. It's..." he hesitates, brow knitted up. "It's interesting to think of how quickly we got so accustomed to it. How it became a part of us. Our lives." He tilts his head to eye her askance. "Couldn't imagine being grounded like that. But. It's a small price to pay for bringing more of them into the world." He draws a breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly. Some manner of deal is reached between man and dragon, for: "We'll see. He thinks-" Grunt. "-should be plenty of chromatics out of Niahvth. He's not so sure there'll be many bronzes. Might be a fair number out of Roszadyth, though. It was a strong flight, from what I heard." "There are," Farideh murmurs quietly. She remains politely silent as she watches him get up and sit closer, though she's studying him more inquisitively now that he's on her same level. "Isn't it? I remember before, but not-- what it was like, not like this. I remember it being hard to learn, and I was weak-- everything's different now, and it will always be." Roszadyth stops shifting the eggs around long enough to sit and watch them, collectively, as though they might sprout legs and run away; horror! "I'm sure A'rist-- Lythronath would be pleased if there were bronzes. I'll keep my fingers crossed for more greens for now.." "Interesting how little it takes for us to adapt." The words come slowly, perhaps borrowed from Ahtzudaeth. Z'kiel shakes his head a little, then looks more properly at Farideh. "How little it takes to change us." A shrug follows, shallow and somewhat helpless in a peculiar way. Then it's back to speculation, with a grunted, "Need more greens, I think - but I've heard the queens know what the Weyr needs. They breed what's best. So. Could be there are greens. Or blues. Or browns in abundance." Then, with a wry snort of a sound, coupled with a sardonic: "Or maybe they'll all be golds." "Does it bother you that you've changed? That we change, with our Impressions? I don't think it's unrealistic. You are, after all, adding another facet to yourself-- a dragon, full of their own personality and quirks." Farideh's gaze shifts from Z'kiel to her dragon, but it inevitably returns, her eyebrows knitting over uncertain eyes. "I think everyone would be happier with more greens. Perhaps not places that are too traditional, that like their bronzes leading wings. I don't see the allure. Mielline and Quinlys are greater leaders on their own, not to mention Taikrin, being a female on brown." She taps a finger against her knee and cants her head towards Z'kiel. "Don't jinx us, Zak." "Should it?" Is his counter to that question. "Haven't changed much. Haven't changed enough." Z'kiel sucks his teeth and shifts his gaze from her to the eggs again. "But. There's time. Need. He's just like me, in some ways. Makes it easier. Is she a lot like you? Different? Then? Now?" The line of questioning is left as it is, scattered and probably more of Ahtzudaeth's making than his own. There's a slight twisting of his features at that - but, to his credit, it's not as much as it might have been, turns ago. "Sounds more like you want fewer bronzes to chase Roszadyth next time," is his interpretation, darkly humorous as it is. "More greens to take their attention. And, who knows. Might be a gold or two in there. The dark might be covering something bright." "It doesn't bother me, but that's not a gage of what should, or shouldn't, bother you." Farideh's fingers at her knee ceases movement and her feet are drawn in under the bench. "I think you've changed some. Roszadyth is-- yes and no. She's polite and ladylike, and feminine and soft, but she's sensible and kind and bright. In a lot of ways, she helps me. She keeps me from jumping to conclusions a lot of times, keeps me from saying angry words, or make rash decisions. It's a balance." Of the bronzes and flights, she rolls her eyes ceiling-ward. "No, but I definitely don't need another flight like the last. Brown catchers would keep the numbers low and more golds out of the picture. Sustainability," sounds like something she's heard; not organic. "Few things bother me," Z'kiel replies. "And he never does." He lapses into silence while he listens, a thoughtful sound escaping him here and there; he is listening, at least. "He helps with words. Helps remind me of what I should be. What I'm meant to be." But there's little to add to it, at least for now. It's at her next words that he looks over again and his mouth pulls taut - not a smile, but something else entirely. "I wouldn't complain if there were more bronzes or more golds. More of all of them. Keep the dragons strong. Keep their numbers high. It was sustainable during a Pass. It still is." A beat. Then: "Better than them dying out because there weren't enough golds." "And, what's that?" Both of Farideh's eyebrows lift, gaze intent on Z'kiel as she waits for his response; she's obviously curious about his meaning. It's the last that gets a frown and a sigh, her fingers flexing against her knee in agitation. "Where would we get the candidates? Tillek is already limiting us with search. What if the other Holds join in? I'd prefer that what happened at Fort, with the green, not happen here." That green, that time, then. But there is no answer for that first. Just a low hnnnh and a shake of his head. Z'kiel does say, "It'll make sense in time," but those words are definitely more Atzudaeth than former-Igenite. The inflection is precisely the bronze's own, in fact. Back to the last, then, and her concerns. "Build relations with the Holds," is one thing. "Discourage long jumps Between at the Weyrs." Is an obvious solution - to him, at any rate. "There are plenty of young people out there. Plenty to pull from. Plenty who will dream of riding a dragon - and will run away to do it." A sidelong look is angled to Farideh then. "What happened with the green could happen at any Weyr. If it's meant to happen, it will. Nothing to be done for it. Won't do you - or her," is angled toward her lifemate on the sands, "to worry about the what ifs. The what might bes." "Encouraging weyr women to keep their pregnancies-- we're already doing that, but building relations with Holds the Weyr already has long-standing history with is easier said than done." Farideh sighs and gives Z'kiel a look. "I'm doing my part, but we can't expect every woman, every rider, to want to sacrifice their lifestyle for a child-- even one they put permanently in the creche or foster out. It's all great in theory until it doesn't work anymore. And I do worry, because High Reaches is home, now. I want the best for the Weyr and everyone in it. Short term, long term, whenever. Even the what ifs." There, she wrinkles her nose. He is, it would seem, immune to that look because he levels his gaze on her, eyes seeking eyes. Z'kiel intones, "What has been tried with the Holds?" He lets that sit for a moment, then follows with, "What hasn't been tried?" Odd question, perhaps, but it's there. He turns it over himself, at least for a little while, before the next. "It has always worked, Farideh. We've never been short for candidates. Fewer than we want, yes. But never less than what's on the Sands." His chin lifts, indicating the eggs. "And if we're short. If the Holds will not cooperate." The thoughts are broken, barely connected by a breath, "Then maybe we should turn to the older ways. Find a way to make the Weyr sustainable on its own for food, resources. Then take the rest." Serious? Joking? Impossible to say. "That is a question better suited for Irianke, honestly." Farideh doesn't mince the words, doesn't pretend to know a place other than her own. "We are only just into the Interval, Z'kiel. We have many, many more turns to go, with the same lackluster response from the holds. We can't sustain that way. We shouldn't be relying on--" But, there's a strangled sound, and then a sigh, fingers pressing into her forehead as her eyes close. "I'm sorry. You have ideas, Z'kiel, but you should voice them to Irianke or K'del. I'm in over my head with those ideals. I see from the other side and I might be biased." Opening her eyes, she offers her clutch-mate a sad smile, before pushing to her feet. "Stay. Enjoy." And she, she's gathering her things up in her arms, with the obvious intention of leaving. But, for most of it, there's silence from the bronzerider. The silence lingers, even while she gathers her things to rise to her feet. Z'kiel stands when she does, however, and offers a shallow dip of his chin in a nod. "I'll speak to them. Be well. Be strong." In the realm of dragon minds, Ahtzudaeth reaches out briefly to Roszadyth with a touch of mirth and hope and reassurance - as steady a presence as he ever was, even with a mind wrought of smoke and mirrors. "If you need anything, ask." And never mind that she surely has more than a handful willing to leap into action at her beck and call; the offer is earnestly given, much like the faint ghost of a smile that manifests. He won't sit until she's gone - and, only then, does he settle into whatever task he's been sent to do. The emotion on Farideh's face is not surprise, but it's something not wholly definable, though it's followed by a small smile for his benefit. "You're too kind, Z'kiel. I don't think enough people know that." She gives him a nod in return, and turns then, to trek back out and into the cold weather outside. |
Comments
Moe (16:10, 14 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
Don't think I'll ever tire of conversations about dragons, but there was also something extra interesting about their hopes and interpretations for colors.
Silva (18:16, 14 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
So interesting how differently they all think! One upside if there are lots of greens- much happier riders!
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