Logs:No Rest For The Wicked
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| RL Date: 7 December, 2013 |
| Who: A'rist, Lythronath, Klohi, Harquith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: No rest for anyone else, either. Quinzeth gets Lythronath all riled (again) and causes trouble in the middle of the night. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks/Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 6, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Inspiration for the first part of Quinzeth's mindscape this log: http://youtu.be/aHFZBwhC5-k |
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| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable. Lythronath, like much of the rest of the barracks, was sleeping, when A'rist - A'rist and his dreams - woke him up. The rider - and his dreams - have been kicked out, and now, now that A'rist sits, and A'rist reads, and A'rist is mostly quiet, Lythronath has to watch him. So glowing eyes stay focused, from the couch, and stare at the point in the middle of the floor that the young bronzerider has claimed as his own, by way of glowbasket and hides. At the edges of the cavern are submerged in inky shadows, where low glowlight or candles unable to reach. Under the cover of such darkness, claws scrabble against the floor, followed by a sharp and weighty slither. And then? Silence. Beyond the strain of senses comes trickling in the faint creak of gears and a steady metronome of, « Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. » A'rist reads on, occasionally lifting the edge of the hide he's on for better illumination, and just as often, if not more so, staring off into space to enjoy whatever it is that had him up at this hour in the first place - least of all when his dragon had opted for sleep early on account of a full belly. Lythronath's perception of the ticks and tocks are given away only in the click of his back talons as he shifts his feet. The feel of sleepy hangs heavy, unspoken. So sleepy. The ticking keeps on, never growing any louder, falling into monotonous whitenoise to tickle the back of Lythronath's sleepy thoughts. Rising above the tedium is the slow metallic creeeek of stretching gears, whining soprano floating towards the bronze. « Lythronath... » His name, wailing lyrics for a disjointed lullaby-- though it's far from soothing. « Lythronath... » Pop. Creek. Along with the melody creeps some of that inky blackness, reaching out for him. « Sleep! » Lythronath answers, explosive loud. In his couch, he pushes his head down into one of his front feet, and the tip of his tail twitches so hard there's a smacking sound against the stone. The inner most lids have descended over his eyes. A'rist grunts something in answer to his dragon's words, and enjoys his fantasy land a little longer. Those shadowy tendrils still reach for him, even after his thunderous demand. They dance and slither, dragging a lumbering mass behind them as they reach to embrace the bronze. « Ssssssleep? Who can sleep when... » From those mental shadows, a ragged monstrosity lurches forward, bigger than even Lythronath! Bigger... big... bigger than a house! A WEYR! The rotted head is almost draconic, but rather than whorling eyes are empty sockets oozing thick black trails. Dislocated jaw jerks up and down, revealing the puppeteer with a shrill twang, « ...BOO! » Klohi's shriek is, thankfully, short-lived as she lurches awake with such force as to fall out of her cot. "QUINZE--" A hearty shushing, from weyrling and dragon alike, cuts her off. The culprit is too busy bouncing in front of Lythronath's couch, celebrating whether he was 'got' or not, « Gotcha! » As Quinzeth draws closer, Lythronath begins to breathe a bit harder, a bit louder, until - boo! - his feet are under him and he's launched himself at the green, not quite at full force, if only for sleep. Also, angles. It's more Klohi's shriek that jolts A'rist. Suddenly he's dropped the hide and has his feet up under him, one hand on the floor where he crouches, the other up, ready. Blame the self-defence training. Blame having impressed to Lythronath. Either way, even if A'rist identifies Klohi as source fairly soon, it takes him a while to get his bearings and ask, "You okay?" And, « Gotcha. » Quinzeth's victory is cut short as Lythronath jerks forward, the green letting out her own shriek that won't be silenced by the rest. « Aw, you're no fun! » Careful with her claws, her bronze brother gets a few meaty smacks of her pads. « At least you're awake finally! » Klohi's arm shoots straight up before falling across the top of her cot, the weyrling wordlessly complaining about having to move with various whines. "Fine." She doesn't quite have it in her to snap, rolling herself up in the excess of blankets. Once she's properly cocooned, Klohi actually stands up and begins to shuffle away from the sleeping area, "I hate it when she... ugh. Why are you and him," Her nose gains just a little height when addressing Lythronath, " even awake?" It's their fault. Somehow. « Hahahah! » The smacks from Quinzeth doesn't even make Lythronath move, once he's found his feet again. It's well after those first few blows that he swings his head, with full force of his shoulders behind it, hard at the, « Little green. » The last bits of sleepiness are falling away from the bronze's mind. A'rist looks away from Klohi while the girl is cocooning, and for just a moment, nerves stretch his features out and make him look older than his fifteen turns. Just a moment. When he looks back to Klohi, "I woke him- we just woke up, okay?" Fingers flick carefully at the edge of the hide. « I'll have you know, » Quinzeth is cut off by Lythronath's swinging head, the sprightly (little) green hopping backwards with a flap of her wings. « Size ain't everything. » Wrapped up and wearing her blankets as a hooded cloak, the weyrling shuffles towards A'rist and peers through her wild bedhead at him. "You woke him up?" Disbelief quickly turns into anger, "Why would you..? As if it isn't bad enough, having to deal with him in the daytime..!" Harsh whispers grow somewhat louder as she's just getting started, thankfully far enough away from those who are able to fall back asleep. Crossing her arms as best she can while still holding the blankets close, her foot taps on the ground. "Well?" Meanwhile, Quinzeth is bounding as best she can around Lythronath, « So what should we get up to, big guy? » With a scrape and a scrabble, Lythronath is launching himself after her, not so cautious as Quinzeth was with his talons, nor with his trajectory. "Well-," is when A'rist remembers to drop his own voice down to a loud whisper, "Well it wasn't like I meant to." He looks from her tapping foot, up the blankets, to her face. "Sometimes it just happens." Maybe he's learned by this point not to argue any points to the effect of 'and it's your green who currently has my bronze all riled up and showing his teeth while he's trying to put them on her.' His excuse is met with a scoff and hard roll of her eyes, but perhaps Klohi's disgust is easier to take than her anger? "Whatever. Just-" Quinzeth gives a delighted squeal as Lythronath gives chase, her sounds of excitement mixing with the aggravated groans and hollers of their fellow weyrlings. « Can't catch me..! » She taunts, awkward limbs scrambling to keep her ahead of the much larger dragonet. Her escape route? Through currently empty couches, a quick hop over empty cots... intending to lead the bronze where he might do the most damage. "Quinzeth! Stay away from her..! If he hurts her again I'll... I'll!" Too flustered to think of a proper threat, Klohi's rushing back into the barracks where she's met with several furious weyrlings. Cots? Cots are one of Lythronath's favourite things. There's at least one that he takes the time to purposefully stomp, a sharp crack echoing through the barracks. « CRUNCH. » (That cot doesn't even have a pillow, so the feather that floats up in the bronze's wake must be from somewhere else.) A'rist doesn't try to argue with Klohi - not more, not now. He grabs his hide and is up to his feet, moving quickly. Apparently that old Lythronath-related injury is healing just fine. "Crap," is hissed at Klohi's ear, "we gotta stop them." You know. Before the one last person still asleep gets woken up. Quinzeth's giggles echo throughout her twisted mental landscape, disjointed organ music growing louder and louder, « Yes! Exactly! CRUNCH! Now everybody can play! » Among the waking chaos of the barracks, the little green thrives, and slips away while Lythronath is busy stomping. "No, I was thinking we should totally let them-- DUH." Sleep deprivation only enhances Klohi's sass, though she's stopped trying to be quiet now. "And why are you whispering, stupid? Everyone's up, now." The last is said bitterly, and as she looks to the nearest angry face her eyes dart quickly away. Quinzeth slinks (more like hobble-stumbles) up to Klohi's side, giggles ending in a deep, smug note, « Bless his big, stupid face. » A'rist only manages to push past one or two of their peers when Lythronath realises Quinzeth is gone. A final, vicious stomp to what is mostly now a pile of splinters, and he's on his way back. For him, at least, people move. The look A'rist gives the dragon certainly does not stop him in his tracks; rather, it sets him to pacing, near Quinzeth, and in between some of the grouchy weyrlings and their couches. But it's not loud pacing, at least. And that's enough to have A'rist glaring at Klohi, and thrusting the hide in her general direction. "Your green isn't making this any easier." Oh, maybe he did remember that argument. "Quizeth..." Klohi whines, the sharp note almost sounding like a scold. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him?" The green gives a chirp and rubs her cheek against the girl's shoulder, « A gazillion. » Another one of her made up words, no doubt. "Oh, I can't stay mad at you." The weyrling's smile is short lived, turning to stare at A'rist with wide, indignant eyes. "Excuse me?" The blankets drop as her hands find her hips, ignoring the cold for now. "It's not our fault that your dragon is so stupid! If he didn't fall for it every time, maybe she'd stop." There are groans from the rest: "Take it outside!" "Who cares!" "BOTH of them are stupid!" "Shut! Up!" "He can't fall for it if she's not tricking him!" Somehow, he's fallen back to whispering, rather than yelling. The yelling all around them, though? That makes Lythronath scrape the floor with his back legs and roar. And now, everyone is awake. And A'rist is turning his attention away from stupid Klohi and her stupid green, muttering, "Frig." « Frig! » Good word. "She is so! Quinzeth is smarter and you're just jealous. Some great bronzerider you're turning out to be." Klohi taunts, and for a moment even she's startled by the amount of venom in her tone. Lythronath's roar causes both weyrling and green to flinch, Quinzeth giving a hiss of annoyance, « Alright already! Sheesh. » It's all fun and games until she's made uncomfortable, however short lived it may be. The expression A'rist pins on Klohi is probably the reason for the next roar, a long, throaty one, while Lythronath tosses his head in the air and fans his wings and swings his tail and lifts his front feet. Roar. "Just get her back to your couch," is harsh and commanding. And rather than try to go and pull his dragon back down to all fours, A'rist starts a broad circle, taking up the trail his dragon had been pacing a moment before, and quite ignoring whether Klohi follows his instructions or not. Another hiss from Quinzeth, and in her mind's eye an array of glassy surfaces strain until the crescendo of Lythronath's roar, mirrors shattering as her patience gives way. « Awh, shaddap. » By the time the shards hit the ground, she's forgiven the bronze. Klohi is not so quick to relax, firing back with a, "DON'T tell me what to do." Slowly, her anger trickles away as the green continues to giggle to herself. At least it doesn't seem like she's got anymore schemes in mind. For now. Klohi reaches down for her blankets, wrapping them around herself as she simply stands there and watches A'rist's pacing. A'rist ignores the barbs he's gotten from various other weyrlings, some of whom are betting on the quiet staying, most of whom probably just want to get out of the way in case Lythronath goes on another rampage. The bronze has fallen to watching the rider, most of all when the boy's circle starts to bring him back into the territory Lythronath has claimed. Lyn scrapes at the floor again. A'rist just marches on, looking broody. And by the time he's got to Lythronath, he's looking through the dragon, to Klohi. Or, glaring. Just glaring. Even when his dragon takes one hint of a step out of his way. Both Quinzeth and Klohi are watching him now, two pairs of eyes flicking back and forth as they follow his progress. The quiet that begins to descend is a tense and distrusting one. Who knows when the troublesome four will start up again? The weyrling stares with a faint furrow in her brow, thick lips making even the most subtle frown all too obvious. Finally, his glaring prompts a (quiet) hiss, "What?" Up this close, she might see the little twitch at the corner of his eye, a flash of anger, the way for it paved by lack of sleep as much as lack of taking responsibility. "Good," starts A'rist, in a low growl, "Night." And with that he's turning and marching back to his own cot, hide in hand. Lythronath stretches in the spot of floor he's mostly-claimed-except-for A'rist, and doesn't follow right away. But he doesn't go stomp any other cots, either. Klohi's frown dissolves as her jaw drops, looking all sorts of startled and perhaps a tiny bit hurt. Still whispering, "Hey." Perhaps it's Quinzeth's advice that has her avoiding Lythronath's 'territory', skirting on the edges of it to shuffle after A'rist. "Hey. Hey? Are you... are you mad at me?" There's obvious confusion, as if the bronze weyrling has suddenly lost his mind. With her lifemate distracted, Quinzeth inches closer to Lythronath, toeing whatever mental line there is between what's his and what isn't. « Hee. » A'rist goes directly to his cot, does not pass go, does not- well, he goes straight there, the only sign of having heard Klohi's words coming when he sits on the edge of it, and rolls his eyes up to her as she approaches. Lythronath is watching Klohi more than Quinzeth. What's more his than the spot he's staked out on the main floor is that threshold marked off in blood. The green's encroachment is met only with an inching of his legs more toward her, spreading his stance, his bulk. "Why shouldn't I be?" is a bit more teenaged than his noble self-impression might wish. But it's late. There's a startled hiccup at his answer, "W-wh..!" Klohi's dark eyes look almost twice as big, as glossy and hurt as they are. Her gaze shifts to the side, clearly not familiar with A'rist being actually angry at her. Or, perhaps this is the first time she's noticed. "I... I didn't mean it, y'know." She mumbles, a touch dishonest. She did mean it-- at the time. But now? Quinzeth notices Lythronath shifting, toeing the physical line as much as the metaphorical. She's annoying, but doesn't intend to lead him on another chase this time. A'rist rolls his eyes when he first sees that glossy wet look in her eyes. By the time he's looked to the side and is looking back, there's elements of sympathy creeping into his face and posture. But no outright forgiveness. "Look, I got him calmed down enough, just... get Quinzeth away while he's even kind of thinking about sleep, okay?" Kind of thinking about it, and kind of thinking about taking another step into the green, where, if she doesn't move, he'll be pressed up to her, side to side. Rolling his eyes only makes her own larger, looking that much more like a lost canine. Pity is just as good as forgiveness, as far as Klohi is concerned, and her face brightens with relief, "Okay. Okay good. Just... don't be angry at me, okay?" He's awarded some of his personal space, though she adds over her shoulder, "You don't get angry." Quinzeth holds her ground on the edge of those bloody borders, leaning against the bronze as she slides down to the ground. That earlier lullaby returns, still disjointed but much quieter, « How about you and me get some shuteye? » The look Klohi turns to aim at A'rist is just a hint smug, jaw lifted. See? Quinzeth can behave. Her expression suddenly drops as the green adds, « We can play more tomorrow. » A'rist groans a little bit for Klohi's last words, but his mutter of, "Just go home," is quiet enough that it's like to be kept for himself as he swings his legs up onto his cot. An idle scratch goes to the healing scar where Lythronath had broken skin, that one fateful day, and thankfully he's not looking long enough to catch that smugness. Lythronath waits, still, leaning into the green, even flexing a few toes as she slides. And although A'rist turns over onto his side, it's almost guaranteed he'll be awake until he knows his dragon is settled. Klohi will try to coax Quinzeth into her own couch, but all of that manic energy has (conveniently) left the green. Why, she's so tired and can't she just lay here? By now, the weyrling is all too anxious to catch up on what precious sleep she can before drills. So, Quinzeth gets her way. Careful to stay on her side, she'll rest her head and close her eyes, « C'mon you big palooka. Glows out already. » In the morning, it'll be even harder for L'sen to rouse Klohi. When she's finally up, there'll be even more groaning and complaining than usual. And by the time Lythronath lies down (and A'rist is finally willing to close his eyes and try to sigh his way into relaxation), the bronze has one hind leg, and one front leg, firmly positioned against Quinzeth. To keep her on her side. And outside the grounds he's painted as his. « Sleep, » he agrees once settled. It's some time later, and quite drowsily, that there comes a happily remembered, « Crunch. » |
Comments
Edyis (Edyis (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 08 Dec 2013 07:36:14 GMT.
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I would be curious to know, between Lythronath and Quinzeth how many cots the carpenters would have to replace by the end of weyrling hood. <3 You guys rock.
Tela (Tela (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 09 Dec 2013 03:28:02 GMT.
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More broken cots? As long as Telavi doesn't get a splinter... ;D
A'rist (H'kon (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 09 Dec 2013 15:24:17 GMT.
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And a feather! Just for you.
Lansha (Lansha (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 09 Dec 2013 17:57:30 GMT.
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Hey, wha-- MY COT! Not again! Lythronaaaath! *shakes fist*
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