Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.
Arekoth has been up in the air long enough now that he's practically become a fixture; long enough that the panic from his striking of his first beast seems to have been forgotten by enough of the herd that some of them are eating again; long enough that those dragons watching the pens can anticipate his patterned movements as he circles; long enough that his rider has had time to have come out from wherever it was he'd gone off to, and even to have taken up a seat on a fairly-dry rock, and stop caring to watch the dragon fly. It's almost like boredom - and, perhaps fault of the only-recently-ended rain, it's also almost like solitude. So H'kon is, for the moment, not scowling.
Iesaryth must be hungry. She'd likely not otherwise leave the comfort and warmth of her ledge for the chill and mud of the feeding grounds, even if she's only so far winged over to circle above it, especially with Arekoth there besides. But there's a break in the rain and she does have to maintain her massive bulk -- so she continues to circle, looking for her meal. At least the brown has more or less subdued the herds into a general blase sort of panic, so the gold has an easier time of it. And she does take her time. She hasn't even yet chosen by the time her rider comes over from the bowl, picking around puddles carefully.
The news of Iesaryth's deception is long gone from Arekoth's memory; any ill will felt by his rider is fuzzed at best, and, when there are beasts to be hunting, certainly not a thing he wishes to go digging for. There's no overt ill will for the gold when she arrives, though he doesn't clear out of her way either. The brown just keeps on with his circling, not missing a beat, and offering a quick, « What, don't like your food soaked? » of greeting. Now, H'kon - H'kon stiffens up the moment the gold is in view, and is on full alert, shoulders tight and back straight, by the time Aishani shows. He's watching her askance as soon as she's within view. Oh, there's the scowl.
« Not muddy. » Ew. Iesaryth would prefer her beasts without the taste of dirt, thanks, but what can you do? The gold's memory is longer than most, but she seems in a decent enough mood today -- though it's difficult to put her in a bad mood proper. Even with her rider's particular dislike of the brown and his rider both. As if to prove it, she waits for Arekoth to pass before lazily diving for her chosen animal. Aishani doesn't give much indication of her mood on way or the other, her expression neutral. That is, until she nears close enough to see H'kon's general air, the scowl. Fine brows arch, the quirk of her lips amused. "Good afternoon to you too," she offers, smirking, hands in jacket pockets.
Arekoth turns a bit more sharply, the better to watch Iesaryth's strike. « The rain would wash the mud off once it was dead anyway, » has all the sound of a shrug behind it, and, as is usual enough, no imagery to disrupt the actual play of grey sky and beastly slaughter going on. H'kon has got his hands clasped tightly together by the time Aishani comes near him, and pins a hard stare on the goldrider as she passes. "Aishani," manages somehow to sound accusatory, for all its terseness.
It's a neat strike, though not all that fast until it needs to be; Iesaryth isn't in a hurry. Once she's done, there's a spray of seafoam for the response, the mirror of grey skies in her waves. « No rain to wash it away right now. » She doesn't mind the rain so much. If mud and blood could sully her hide, though -- that's an issue. She'd rather not deal with it, really. Her rider isn't anywhere near as tense as Arekoth's seems to be, approaching the fence to rest her forearms on it in an easy lean. Lifting a stylish boot to the lowest rung, she tilts a look H'kon's way, and sighs, "H'kon. What now?" Her tone is weary, as if she thought she might have been past all this by now.
The brown goes back to scouting, at least a little more in earnest, now that Iesaryth is there, now that there's an audience beyond plain old H'kon. But Arekoth still has time to bide, and this he does. H'kon, of course, has little purpose in drawing out any interaction with Iesaryth's rider. "I don't believe I've brought up any issue simply by speaking one of your names." The scowl is fixed on her, no more or less than it was only a moment before.
The queen is content to eat, though it might take her some time, given the mud and all. At least she doesn't provide any impediment to Arekoth's scouting, nor any of the others. Aishani, however, gives a quiet snort -- terribly unladylike. "Your tone implies accusation, and your reference to my former name implies an issue with that alone. You have what you want, why not be a little less hostile? Or at the very least, civil. That I can manage that after everything is astounding, yet..." She's the bigger person. Magnanimous, really, that she speaks to him at all!
H'kon's chin lifts; his eyebrows do not. "You'd have your deception forgotten, then." It's observation, certainly not offer. The brownrider's hands stay tightly linked before him. Arekoth finally seems to have selected his second helping, and he helps himself to it, the shriek that comes with his strike surely doing little to cut through the tension. "I've returned your greeting. Speak with me if you are so intent to do so, but I'll not force some pretended trust. I believe that is what you mean, when you speak of civility." Arekoth's beast is allowed to thrash around for quite some time before he ends it.
Aishani has no response for that beyond an eyeroll. Well, an eyeroll and: "Some people seem to accept that I had my reasons, despite their lack of amnesia." The goldrider seems less tense than tired, looking out over the grounds to watch the slaughter more impassively than she does the brownrider. "I'm not intent on doing so, and I'm really not sure how you assume I mean civility means anything more than 'being civil' as in 'not hostile' as in 'good afternoon, yes it's nice it's not raining, etcetera'. But if returning greetings with barely-veiled suspicion and underhanded insults is the best I can do with you, I will opt for silence, which I assume you prefer." She cuts a look over to H'kon that hovers somewhere between pity and just finished, then looks back to Iesaryth. The gold isn't really dainty, but isn't gross.
H'kon doesn't watch Arekoth's progress - he's too busy keeping an eye on Aishani, lest she should flick a match to burn the Weyr down or something - but there must be something cathartic in the brown's sudden viciousness. Or maybe H'kon's repositioning of himself on his rock is purely a matter of maintaining proper circulation in all limbs. "I do not speak in this way even to those I've reason to trust." Dismissal in that, itself, for any 'reasons' she might have alluded to. His brown rips into a hindquarter.
"That must explain why you have so many friends," Aishani says dryly. "People love silence and awkward conversation, lack of pleasantries." The goldrider doesn't seem to be making any sudden movements, no throwing of matches, knives, anything else just yet. She's just still leaning on the fence, though Arekoth's movements do draw her attention enough to ask, "Is he well?" She nods in the brown's direction, speaking of pleasantries.
"I see little point in wasting my time among those who need to speak nothings to comfort themselves," has an edge to it. H'kon, at least, stops himself there, forces his shoulders to roll, as if to relax them, and dares even send a glance to Arekoth. "Well enough," is dismissal, and Arekoth is left to display his own health in the way he rips another chunk of flesh from his most recent kill, in the way he tries to swallow it without much chewing, wings mantling protectively. H'kon focuses instead on an abrupt, "Why have you stayed at this Weyr?"
Not turning to look his way, "Why have you stayed, if you see little point in wasting your time amongst those who... 'need to speak nothings to comfort themselves'? That's almost everyone here. The woman you spend your time with seems to have no issue with pleasantries." Perhaps that's Aishani's way of telling H'kon it's none of his business, or that she's not about to tell him at least.
Mention of 'the woman' has H'kon's jaw setting and his ears reddening, but far be it from him to give any elaboration on that relationship to the likes of the goldrider before him. He simply maintains his scowl, and to the backdrop of Arekoth's ripping gives a solemn, "My duty is to serve the people in this place. You have made it clear enough that the same is not true for you."
Aishani quirks a faint smile for some reason or another, as Iesaryth continues her meal much less dramatically. The queen's gaze shifts over to the riders briefly only. "Ah, yes. Your duty, which you only serve when it suits you. Which is to say, when you agree with the leadership. It's a fascinating definition of duty, H'kon." She pushes off the fence, looking over to the rock with a shrug. "You've done fine deciding why my motivations are on your own. Why not continue?"
"My duty is based not upon agreement, but legitimacy. I looked to the Weyr, as I do now. I would not expect you to understand the oath to serve something beyond oneself." And so ends any questioning. H'kon's eyes move to Arekoth, and stay long enough for the brown to look back. It doesn't necessarily make the dragon increase his speed, but at least the next bite he takes is a big one. At least the end of that second beast is in sight.
With a laugh, "And we should all look to H'kon, brownrider, to determine legitimacy. Certainly, the Council will ask you the next time the issue comes up." Aishani has an infuriatingly condescending smile and tone both for the man, a verbal and visual head-pat, as if to remind him of her height. As if she needs to. Starting back into the bowl to leave him to his scowling, "You think what you need to, brownrider. And I'm sure there'll be a proper flight soon enough. Do try to keep out of that one, yes?"
"It was not my doing that kept the council from sorting out the entire mess in the first." H'kon gets off his rock in saying it, giving Arekoth a sharp nod of his head before turning a glower on the goldrider. "I wonder that you throw your own contrived irregularities at me as though the machinations were not your own. Perhaps it's become difficult to keep track of your lies." For all he's speaking slowly, the brownrider's face has gone quite red. And that final accusation will, apparently, serve as goodbye. He's marching back toward the bowl. And all Arekoth bothers to say on anything, as H'kon goes, is a helpful, « I just felt a raindrop. »
Aishani is a touch confused, as she'd started for the bowl ahead of H'kon, but as he marches past, she just stops and laughs again, shaking her head and giving him the honor of storming out with a little bow, despite any raindrops that Arekoth might feel and the state it might have on her hair. Iesaryth is grateful though, and the brown might be the reason the queen speeds up her meal and the queenrider lifts her jacket over her head when she does start back for her weyr, once the brownrider's figure has gotten small, off in the distance. « Thank you, Arekoth. » At least, they're civil.
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