Logs:No Love Lost
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| RL Date: 20 December, 2015 |
| Who: Taeliyth, Zaisavyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Zaisavyth and Taeliyth don't love each other. They don't even like each other. They might even be actively at war with one another. |
| Where: Mindspace |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'rov/Mentions |
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| It's early. Too early, really, except eggs want what they want (and Zaisavyth does so enjoy making an entrance). Her announcement is for Weyr, but perhaps her presence lingers just a little more heavily in Taeliyth's direction. Thick and heavy, a roiling, emotive sea; they're coming. The future of Fort. Zaisavyth's eggs. Vhaeryth's, too. (To Taeliyth from Zaisavyth) These things never end well. Taeliyth is, generally, a light sleeper and Zaisavyth is obnoxiously loud in her presence (to the Fortian gold's taste, anyway) at anytime of day. Especially so, now. Grumpy upon waking simply compounds with the absolute absence of humor in he fact of that emotive sea. The future of Fort. Eggs. Her eggs. His eggs. Disgust in the form of a putrid rot rolls off Taeliyth's inner Wood. Spawn of an invader and a traitor. It cannot be borne. It--'s a good thing Dahlia wakes up just then, roused by her lifemate's strong emotions and able to so swiftly disrupt whatever plans were beginning to draft themselves into being in Taeliyth's private thoughts. (To Zaisavyth from Taeliyth) Is Zaisavyth a bitch? Sometimes. When she wants to be. It may have slipped her rider's notice-- given everything else-- that the solar shockwave queen is radiating outwards towards Taeliyth's wood, forcing the sensations of delivery onto the younger queen. Can she feel the pressure, the pain? The satisfying thrust as that egg finally comes free? The maternal adoration and contentment, basking in Vhaeryth's satisfaction? She'll share it all, wave after wave of it. (To Taeliyth from Zaisavyth) To Zaisavyth, Taeliyth would have a different answer for that question, though that should come as no surprise to anyone whose observed the tense and mercifully brief interactions between the subtly(?) warring golds. Thorns sprout anew shadowed in the thickness of her trees, the brambles twisting, trying to create a wall to keep the other gold's sharing out. The thing about senior golds though? That's not actually so easy. Taeliyth works at it. She doesn't want to know that. What dragon would?? Gross. Zaisavyth is gross. The eggs are gross and Vhaeryth? He's an asshole. A fitting mate for a bitch like Zaisa-- Dahlia's cool presence can be felt as she distracts her gold again; she too is a kind of Wood, but hers is a verdant jungle with life and beauty flourishing, albeit with a sense of having been lessened. To Taeliyth, Zaisavyth burns the wood. Not so much as she might have, had Taeliyth been within reach before her flight, but enough. Solar flames have no smoke, but burning forests? They can and do. But perhaps Taeliyth can withstand it... or perhaps it's that there's Mirinda, too, abruptly present and icy and firm. Shut it down, Zaisavyth. Shut it down, Mirinda. Her onslaught may have been curbed, but Zaisavyth herself still burns. And? « Fort is mine, Taeliyth. Her sands are mine. Her eggs are mine. Mine. » The smug is overpowering. Did Zaisavyth know Taeliyth could burn too? She burns with rage, with hatred, with feelings so deep and dark that they burst forth from her dark fronds with one goal, one intent: destruction. Then, as abruptly as it flares, it's gone, gone, the burning quenched in the cold nothing of between. It's only after, through another dragon, that Taeliyth will communicate from Dahlia and for Mirinda that they will be taking the day off and will be back by morning. It's not really a request, but in this case, it's probably for the good and safety of all. (To Zaisavyth from Taeliyth) To Taeliyth, Zaisavyth wins. She wins. Taeliyth can't touch her; can't touch her eggs. Can't-- okay, she can leave, but that's still a win as far as the senior queen is concerned. There's no confirmation, not even through a game of telephone, for that message from Dahlia; Zaisavyth's not paying attention. Zaisavyth won. |
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