Logs:Nice Weyrleaders
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| RL Date: 8 June, 2009 |
| Who: Iabri, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del's attempting to jog, but gets distracted by Iabri, instead. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 12, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. Shadowed eyes, almost inky in their dark-blue liquidity, stare out in sharp contrast to the light coloration of Kaditseth's face. The most subtle shifts in the turn of her neck and the curvature of her neck follow the swing of Iabri's arm as it launches another flat pebble at the frozen lake where it sparks ice off the surface, hops a few times and then slides against the glossy surface only to entrench itself deep within a snowbank. The weyrling's nose tip wrinkles followed shortly by her entire face scrunching down at the just two-feet high green. "Well, something like that-," she says with humored lameness, concluding what might be an explanation of just how to skip rocks against the water. "When it's not frozen." It's afternoon, and though heavier, frozen rains might be on the forecast for later this evening, just now it's only the overcast skies that foretell doom is approaching. The bowl beyond the lakeshore is predictably busy, given the time of afternoon, one wing finishing drills with another in the air above, and plenty of others coming and going with visitors and packages, and business of all kinds. K'del jogs between these, his dark coat standing out against the (relative) whiteness of the snow, not to mention his pale hair. His angled path eventually leads him towards the lake, and though his initial intent is probably to continue around it, the presence of green and weyrling prove a distraction (not to mention the fact that he's panting, already), and he adjusts to suit, coming to a breathless stop not far off. Not that he can get words out, just yet, but if she looks at him, he's smiling: hi. Kind of. It's hard to miss the sound of approaching panting, despite the din of the bowl in general, and as absorbed as Iabri might have been in Kaditseth just a few weeks prior, a month into this whole togetherness thing has brought with it a few hard lessons in separation. For the kind of smiling 'hi,' Iabri's head cants so that her light eyes might look to K'del, appraising and it's only after that ruminating gaze has ascertained K'del as not intimidating that she ventures her own smile. One that's totally not kind of. It blooms about her mouth slowly to stretch into the corners of her eyes. "I thought weyrlinghood was supposed to train that kind of heavy breathing out of you. S'what I was told any way," comes the tease of her lazy Nabolese drawl, that then continues in an arch lift of her brows and coy turn of her chin, "Not quite the model of a dragonrider the weyrlingmasters like to say we'll become, yes?" "You're making fun of me," retorts K'del, as he regains enough of his breath to get those words out without needing breaths between them. Her smile is infectious, though, and his own returns warmer, as, with a final breath, he straightens, pulling his shoulders back. As his gaze shifts between the two, he adds, "/Was/ a perfectly good model. Keep missing drills, though, for one thing or another, and before you know it... Besides, the cold? Doesn't help anything." His excuses only seem to amuse him further, though, albeit not without a rueful twist of the lips. "It's-- I'm sorry, I don't remember what your name is." Those green eyes fall once more, finding the shoulder with K'del's knot and pauses, lips pursed. Clearly, there's something running through her head though recognition isn't one of the foremost. It takes a hip check of the flat length of Kaditseth's muzzle for a quicker, more crooked smile to slant down at the dragonet before Iabri's once again looking up to K'del. Smiling winsomely, "If I had added sir to that, would it make it better or worse?" A reflexive drop of her hand finds the very top of the weyrling dragon's head to brush her finger tips against, reassurance, perhaps, to quell the rapid spin of those ink-dark eyes. Her name is offered in a fluid turn of her tongue, "Iabri," unfazed as to not retaining the Weyrleader's recollection. "And Kaditseth." Three very distinct syllables. "I've forgotten to salute," says the teenager, unrepentant in her belated remembrance, adding the excuse of, "I think I've just failed my history exams." As if that'll wash over all the sins she's collected in the two minutes that've surely passed since meeting K'del. And yet, K'del doesn't seem terribly concerned by the lack of - recognition? Title? Anything? His stance drops into one that could only truly be described as relaxed, bare hands reaching to dig into his pockets as his shoulders slump down. "Might just compound the slight," teases the Weyrleader. "Failing history, /and/ forgetting to salute, /and/ not calling me sir. Iabri. Kaditseth." The names are tacked on at the end of that, like he's simply testing them out, and it just so happens that he's doing that not too long after speaking to the bearers. Then, "But since you've already seen me huffing and puffing like the most unfit weyrling, not sure I can reasonably ask for too much respect." Not to mention the age difference. "K'del. Since we're not being formal, for now. Guess this means you'll have to do extra history classes?" "Probably," opines the weyrling, somehow unfazed despite the show of slumped shoulders. See, there's that twinkle there in her light eyes as they slip /K'del/ a sly little look of mischief, complete with quirked lips and the rise of those once-slumped shoulders. "Call me Bri. Bri and Kadi. She doesn't mind." And while they're being all informal and frank, she adds, in a whoosh of a sigh, "History, math, reading, writing. I can't say I passed any of them I don't think. Just wasn't really important, y'know? Not really sure why it's any more important now." Iabri's hands drift one last time across Kaditseth's flat head, trailing down the lifted nose and then sliding up, absently, along the green's mouth line. Her fingers pause at a particular canine, growing larger midst the dragonet's teeth, which hangs out a little fang-like as Iabri's fingers rub idly there. Then, she takes a step forward, away from her dragon who now tucks her lengthy blonde-tinged neck down onto the rocky shore. Quipping; "Tell me, were you the model of a weyrling in all academics when you were /our age/?" One of K'del's hands reaches up to scratch behind his ear, pressing cold skin to colder skin, then drawing it back again: brr. "Bri and Kadi." He's testing the sound of them again, thoughtful in it, if still relaxed. "It is important, though. You're going to be a representative of the Reaches; we need you educated. It could become useful at any point. Though," and it's an indirect answer to her question, and outright rueful this time, "I'm still not that hot on math. When I was a /weyrling/," it's a subtle correction, if it even counts as one, "I at least passed all my exams, though. Learned the things I didn't know, even ended up in the Leadership Programme. Worked my butt off as a weyrling, really." And look at him, now! "And look at you, now," marvels Iabri aloud, though it's hardpressed to tell whether she's serious in her admiration or just further teasing. This, at least, warrants a salute from the Nabolese girl, one picture perfect to make Meara proud, that ends with a snap of her wrist as it comes down by her side once more. "Weyrleader, master of all...," her silken alto trails off as she punctuates that with a picturesque little smile. "Perhaps I should aspire towards such greatness some day." A subtle glance cast back over her shoulder, with just the slightest drop of her lashes, finds that Kaditseth's hide is still unchangingly green. "Perhaps not Weyrleader though," returns Iabri with a rueful grin. "Do you enjoy being Weyrleader, K'del?" It must be an automatic reaction, for K'del, to snap a salute in response, his just about as perfect as hers, if perhaps a little rusty from disuse. "And look at me now," he laughs, as his hand drops again, though it's not a laugh of /true/ amusement; he's watching her, gauging her expressions, the tones in her voice. "Wingleader, then. Weyrlingmaster - though I suppose not, if academics are not your forte. Do I enjoy being Weyrleader?" Although it takes him some time to get to that question, his repetition of it nonetheless sounds surprised. "Not a question easily answered. Parts of it, yes. Parts... not so much. As with most things in life, I imagine." Naturally narrow eyes narrow even further as she considers K'del's response, thoughtful in the visible gleam and that telltale (she's thinking hard) purse of her lips. It all culminates into an effusive smile that, in its emergence, brings with it her shoulders rolled forward. "I've heard... I mean, I heard...," there's no polite way to say it and after a few misstarts, Iabri just gives up with an apologetic shrug and scrunched features. "I heard High Reaches' Weyrleader was really young, but I don't think you are. I mean, y'know." Her inadequate lexicon gives way to another shrug and a smile that finds her booted toes first and K'del next in one quick chin lift. "You're older than a lot of people, I imagine." If not in actual age, at least in mental ones, conveyed in a singular tap of her finger to her head. Away from the heavy subjects that she knows so little of, a question out of nowhere rises throaty and bright in her voice, "Do you dance, K'del?" "Do you make a habit of telling people things they like to hear?" K'del wants to know, which doesn't stop him from looking as pleased as anything with Iabri's assessment of his mental age, all smiles. "Though: thank you. Can be a little bit difficult, when - for example - most of the weyrlings are older, not to mention most of the Weyr in general." He blows out a long breath, visible in the cold, his thoughts still clearly focused upon /that/ topic than the other, until, finally, with a note of apology for the belatedness: "Yes, I dance. As many gathers as I can manage, except that this summer and autumn were a little... busier than usual. Do you? Bri." Iabri gives him a sunny smile for his last question in return for hers. One of those, 'wouldn't you like to know,' ones. Lest the unsuspecting believe Kaditseth to be asleep, as soon as the not-quite-rider takes a step back within easy reach of her dragon, the green rises off what would be her little knobbly baby knees, to stretch forward and brush her neck against Iabri's legs. "You're much nicer than I thought Weyrleaders would be. Because I've met so many in Nabol's kitchens," she adds self-mockingly. A hand reaches back down to play her finger tips against Kadi's lean head. "Even if I forget to salute and can't do math or anything really, I can't really ignore it when she gets hungry." A likely excuse, but one actualized as likely true by the insistent curl of a green's tail about her weyrling's leg and then a turn of the slim-framed dragonet, as if whether by tripping or tail-nudging, she'll make Iabri go where she wills. The girl at least has the temerity and time enough to offer, "You could always join us for our morning exercises. I hear we'll start doing laps soon!" before she's being pulled along by a tail around her ankle, back towards the barracks. That sunny smile only seems to amuse K'del, whose head shakes ruefully, outright smile bitten back but otherwise not restrained from the rest of his expression. As Kaditseth shifts, his gaze slides back towards her, alternating smoothly between the two while Iabri speaks. "Glad you think so," he tells her, but quickly, because, after all, if Kaditseth is hungry... "Have a pleasant afternoon, Iabri. And--" He's laughing, already drawing himself back into position to resume his jog. "I'll think about it." But probably not. Though he /will/ actually jog again, all the way back across the bowl. In the end, Iabri is all too pleased with herself, the delight of having met the Weyrleader superceding any other outward emotion only /after/ she's made it far enough so that she can't be seen or heard. And should she have found a spot somewhere within the safety of the training area, just beyond the entrance, so she and her inky-eyed, absently chewing, green might be able to espy the comings and goings across the bowl, perhaps it's just coincidence. |
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