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.
At least it's not dark, yet. At least it's not raining, again. At least it's not cold, as such. Some dragons even go so far as to play in the lake after dinnertime, one of them a fragile-looking dragonet not even six feet long with most of that neck and tail, and some idlers mosey around the place because at least it's not inside. One of them is preoccupied, a girl with a cap in lieu of visible hair, denuding a poor boulder of its protective moss with her thumbnail.
H'kon does not quite have the right movements to be called an idler; he's walking with a bit too much purpose, looking with a bit too much intensity as he comes upon various people. It's not quite impatient - not active enough for that - but it's certainly got a sense of wait to it. A sense of dull excitement, even. And that, in the end, is why, when he comes near the girl with the moss plucking, his neck cranes just a bit, and she's given a probing look, rather than a simple glance.
There's no preternatural sensing of the man's eyes upon her. Perhaps it's that he does come near, that he has to walk to do so, that his footfalls are audible, that has Telavi glancing up from her task. Nor does she start, guiltily, but rather press her fingertips against the moss as she might smooth a hem. "Hm?" It's a pleasant inquiry, as though all were absolutely normal.
"Hm," is both answer to her, and declaration of the findings of that look. His head draws back to a more normal position, and he stops with the walking. "Forgive the interruption," comes with a glance about her general environs. And then about his, again.
It's a polite phrase, but still, "For an answer," Telavi requests, the posture she's adopted somehow deferential with the curve of her shoulders and the tilt of her head, her neck exposed by the hat that hides her hair. "If you will?"
H'kon was already making preparations to turn. Those words give him a shudder of halt, even if he'd hardly been in motion. He focuses again on the girl, though the sharpness that comes initially is gone once he's processed her request. "What is the question?"
The girl's hands don't flinch, and by the time he's refocused, she might have regained the composure scattered in the lowering of her eyes, their quick slant away. If not then, surely soon thereafter, and well before the second's pause that leads to Telavi's reply. "There's an old weyr up there, it's said, at the top of the cliff where the boulders are." The boulders, and the graffiti, the latter of which has been recently added to. "Sir. Do you know... what happened there, whose it was?"
It's the 'sir' that prompts the more careful look from H'kon, to that little dragonet that he'd seen before, but now only really seems to place. The next is a glance up, not toward that weyr, but toward the rim. That ledge gets a glance, only brief, last. He's got a look of concentration on his face when he looks back to the girl. "I do not. I imagine it was unsuitable for some reason."
To Solith, Arekoth is abrupt, words bouncing on some sort of amusement. « It was closed off because of boulders. » There's more. He doesn't share it, but there's so clearly more hanging just beyond that short phrase.
That's what Telavi gets for being polite and trained. Never again? "I wonder," the girl begins, "if it were unsuitable for habitation, as a practical matter, or unsuitable in a way I shouldn't know about." She certainly doesn't follow his glance, staying light, less than demanding. Though there's still, "You're... H'kon, aren't you? I hope I'm not wrong."
Solith is quiet, what will be words drifting on some sort of wondering: should she admit to eavesdropping? Oh, why not, and more. « You want me to ask, don't you. » She's little, it just spills from her, like a window gladly opened to the breeze. (Solith to Arekoth)
H'kon's mouth presses into something, a sideways pull reminiscent of a wry smile, for all it doesn't really work at being anything except ambiguous. "If the Weyr were to close off areas for any reason other than practical, no matter how unpalatable, I should imagine there would be nowhere left to us within its confines." As to her question on his identity: a simple bob of his head, a curt, "Yes."
« Well... » Arekoth's mimicked waffling comes only as a fading in and out of presence, without any image or sensation to signal it. Just that feeling. « The boulders had to get there somehow. » All there, all at once. « I'd be curious. » (Arekoth to Solith)
Tela leans forward, just slightly, her gaze fixed on the rider as though she could reduce ambiguity to clarity by sheer desire. Even when he's speaking, she's waiting, less for the moment in which he finishes than that in which she must think she understands, a smile widening the press of her lips just enough to hint at the beginnings of dimples. It isn't a chuckle, not quite, but it might have been before she dips her own head into a nod. "I don't know whether he's Solith's sire, I don't know if we can know? but I would so appreciate knowing of him, of what it was like for you. When you have time? It," and here she moistens her lips, "I thought it was simple but it's not." All those words, because when might he ever stay to be spoken with again?
Hers is a breath of laughter, because she recognizes the mimicry for what it is, is charmed by it. « And so she is. There, I have admitted it. She wants to look beneath. » Beneath, behind, what lies beyond, bones and ghastly things or simple dirt. (Solith to Arekoth)
H'kon's jerk upward of his head is more the thought of a glance than a proper one. The checking is little to do with information from his eyes. But who needs their own eyes to determine their dragon's whereabouts? "Arekoth seems to trace the lineage by whichever dragons from those clutches to which he takes a liking," H'kon offers, dry and honest, if not relaxed. Even with the brown still not nearby. The little green earns another look, and in this one, he actually sees. There's hesitation when he's back to Telavi. "It was not simple for us, either," is with another of those sharp little nods.
To Solith, Arekoth projects, « And what about you? » There's the slightest hint of wintry chill. « Or are you one of those boring types who only thinks about practical things? »
Telavi might. She's a hungry acolyte, more visibly so in the intentness of twilit eyes than in any sort of approach or even a nod. She doesn't look at Solith. "There are people who'd like to do the same thing," she murmurs. "I hope it's not..." bad? traitorous? She settles for an unusually awkward lift of her shoulders, "...that it's a relief, that it's not just me. Or, her."
If she can sense that there's a 'right answer' by the way the dragon says it, she certainly doesn't stand against it or search for a trap. No, she's influenced by Arekoth's presence as well as her own inclination to agree, if with the sentiment rather than the assertion. « Certainly not! » Her huff isn't quite horrified, but it could be. « Tell me of the other things? » The interesting things. The things she should know, the things she should want to know. (Solith to Arekoth)
H'kon does his best now to keep his eyes focused on Telavi, though there's an air of unrest to the man, for all he stands flat and still. "Some are smitten from the beginning. There are such among your number, certainly." A breath is taken, pushed out between his teeth. "Some will surely be difficult to the end. But they choose who they will."
"Yes." Telavi looks down to where her nail's, seemingly by itself, started to pick at the moss again. "She isn't difficult? Mostly, but once, she really was. She... I..." She swallows. "I don't know why I'm telling you, I hope I wouldn't tell anyone else," and is Solith to blame for this too? She doesn't seem to think to wonder, her voice lowered, "She was having a hard time of it, I knew we weren't supposed to, but I... went and helped her up." With all that that, to her at least, might imply.
« Certainly not, » Arekoth repeats, as if he would scoff it away. The very thought! He settles, and that winter chill sets in again, clear and cold. « There was a dragon, once, whose rider lost his tongue. So he couldn't speak to anyone, and hid in his weyr. And the dragon did too. And the dragon loved her rider so much that she piled up all the stones to keep everyone else away and they just sat alone together forever. Until they died. » (Arekoth to Solith)
Is that cold more chilling, or exciting? The little one's shiver doesn't seem to be certain, but her (mental?) breath is held longer than should strictly be possible. « That, » she decides at the end, « is a short story. » There's a short pause to go with it. « Is it a good story? Did they not get hungry? » The dam is broken. « Why did he hide? Why did he lose his tongue? How did she pile the rocks up? I want to pile some up. Were they not bored when they sat and sat? Did they have oil? Did they itch? » All these questions, and yet she never questions that it happened' as he'd said at all. (Solith to Arekoth)
The words 'I don't know why I'm telling you' are always words to draw up eyebrows; H'kon's are no different. He even lifts his chin a ways, eyes narrowing as the weyrling goes on. "You... helped her." The repetition is enough to bring his chin back down to its regular level, and for a moment, the brownrider tongues at his teeth. It's in that moment that implications are sorted out. "That was the first?"
"The first?" Telavi's eyes lift, wide. It can't be a conscious imitation, how she runs her own tongue against her palate, the better to wet its dryness.
« Short stories are the best ones. Does it matter if the rider bit his tongue off when he fell out of bed? Or if they had food or oil? » There's a wisp of something, yellow and almost playful. « Or that they're still in there? Waiting, alone, in quiet? Or that even the dragon doesn't speak to other dragons, although she feels everything still, from the others. » He's nearly done, when a chuckled, « Proddy is interesting, » comes forth, almost unbidden. (Arekoth to Solith)
"On the sands," H'kon specifies, still intent.
« Yes, it matters! If they do not have food, they are hungry, if they do not have oil, they itch, » and Solith's gliding right over the bitten-off tongue because she doesn't really understand and also, she's busy shivering again with excited horror. Waiting. Softer, just a whisper, « Why wouldn't she speak to anyone? That sounds so lonely. » There's a word for it. She had wondered, once, what that feeling was called, when she'd just learned what feelings were, and someone told her. Lonely. But this new word, this interesting word, this word that entertains him so... what is it? she asks without words. (Solith to Arekoth)
To Solith, Arekoth's « But she has her rider. Isn't that enough? » has something not quite sincere to it. And the little green's unspoken question gets speech in answer: « Talk to your mother. » It's vague enough, no sense of anchor, that he hasn't yet decided which gold that is.
She can detect his not-ness, a twinge through the air, but not quite identify what it is. « No? » is her own answer, made the more uncertain for it. The rest is so vague that she abandons it, for now, though it's not impossible that the idea might float behind her. (Solith to Arekoth)
"The first... what? on the sands?" Telavi glances away, looks back at him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to follow."
To Solith, Arekoth's lights, Arekoth's chill, all have gone. « Maybe you should unpile some of those boulders and ask her. I wonder if she would speak to another dragon if she could see her. »
"As am I," has the slight grate of frustration. H'kon's head twitches to one side, but he doesn't make it to looking down the lakeshore before he's schooled it to the weyrling once more. "Do you blame your helping her for your impression, or do I mishear you?"
She likes that, it's apparent in the borrowed wisp of color that can't make up its mind between lavender and blue, all air made light. It's apparent even before, « Brilliant idea. » That's another of the words she's learned from others, brilliant. « She has wanted to, and so do I, now. We should! Now? Will you come? » (Solith to Arekoth)
Out in the lake, the young green twists her head around on its long, long neck, looking and looking and searching. Not Telavi, though even so her eyes are distant in a way that owes nothing to dragons. She doesn't apologize again. "'Blame' is a strong word. Yet I do wonder if it... contributed, and if it did, if it's something I can fix, if it should be fixed at all. I see the others with eyes just for each other and it seems so warm and so easy, even when it's hard."
To Solith, Arekoth projects, « If I could, little green. » His voice sounds the distance physically between them in that, distant. Lonely? Certainly not briliant. « See you don't hurt yourself. »
"Nothing to be fixed. A bond is made, one way or another, at impression, and can only be broken in one way." The heavy fall of his eyebrows will serve to address whatever seriousness that words do not. But H'kon offers an equitable enough sigh, a relaxation of features to go with it. "Arekoth found me. I did not move to him, did not interfere. And we were not smitten."
Surely he could, he should, they could make it so... but if he feels not, then perhaps truly not, and that wind-energy dissipates without its locus to hold it together. Only a wistful whisper on the breeze, « Do not hurt yourself either, dragon. » (Solith to Arekoth)
The feel coming off of Arekoth is one of restriction, for all it's veiled in some sort of condescending bravado - one not fully unkind, but one that offers no more words, at least for the moment. (Arekoth to Solith)
Out in the lake, Solith sinks beneath the water, but not only do bubbles rise to the surface, her tail sticks out the whole way in a long tendril of a periscope: she can swim, but she can't hide. But then, she may be trying to do something else altogether. Tela says, even as the weyrling presses some mossy bits together into a lump, "And you've survived." Her tone doesn't seem supremely reassured, but neither is it regretful.
H'kon dips his head once, a solemn sort of nod. "I have, as has Arekoth, which he might not have otherwise done, had he chosen differently." This time, the look up the shore does make it all the way, and has him pausing a moment, trying to make out the details of a form. But it's not idle time; he's come upon something when he looks back, and there's something almost sympathetic to the man's eyes. "For young dragons, matters of survival and of affection are perhaps not distinct from one another."
That she's impressed by: she's Weyrbred, and her intent nod reflects that she knows too well what that means. Telavi hugs herself as though from some chill, and after the brownrider continues, there's a guilty drop to her chin. "She... doesn't seem to mind. I do oil her, you know, I try to be so thorough even if she does keep rolling in the dirt, after."
That sympathetic look stays, even when H'kon tries to twist a smile out. It's halfway, and crooked, and heavily lined where his cheek scrunches. "A weyrlingmaster once asked me if I would not be happier without Arekoth." The same question is passed over to Telavi by way of a nod of his chin. Thereafter, that look away from her is to try and spot her dragon in the water.
Solith's surfaced, and by now is floating on her back with her eyes even more deeply lidded, oblivious to the elderly green nearby who looks as though she might take a bite out of the dragonet's belly. Probably it would just be a nibble, to tickle. Probably. Telavi may not seem cognizant of the honor done her by that would-be smile, but at least she's appreciative with her answering glance, and she doesn't continue with what starts out as, "Yes, yes of...." Instead, she admits, "It doesn't feel as though that question's relevant, anymore. It should, and I mean for it to mean something, but it doesn't."
"The question means nothing, or?" H'kon's eyes are still trained on that little green, her little belly. His brow has taken on one of its many furrows, this time more for the thoughtful.
It's a little belly that wiggles, sometimes, as her hindpaws go up and down, sculling her along as though she has all the time in the world to go nowhere much in particular. "Yes," and Telavi looks at H'kon looking at Solith but doesn't quite, quite look at Solith herself. "Yes, it doesn't mean what it should. I can reach out and find her, if I think about it... I can remember, sort of, what it was before, and I don't think I've changed, but maybe I changed enough not to know? I just can't think of 'not her.'"
H'kon turns from that green, looks up, into a sky empty of Arekoth. It makes his lips press together in a line. "Perhaps there is stability in that," H'kon decides. "Whatever the case, if you saw fit to help her then, you are all that keeps her here now." He stops searching the skies, and looks to Telavi, murmuring now, "The relationship has always seemed somewhat unfair to me."
When he first speaks, Telavi does look toward the young green, and with new eyes: keeping Solith here? Instead of tethering Telavi herself? Something of that wondering look lingers as her gaze returns to H'kon. "How's that?" Which way? She shifts again, messing with the moss again, not wholly restless but surely not restful. Solith... floats.
H'kon gives another lined half-smile again, this time with a note of sadness to it, prospective though it may be. "If a rider's dragon dies, the man that is left behind is still, at the least, alive to be left." A sigh accompanies another glance down the shore. He's got a pensive look even amidst that recognition that flickers, that prompts, a soft-spoken, but heavily important, "I will leave you to your dragon now, rider."
"Left raving, maybe," and Telavi's voice is torn ragged with it, like she's seen it, knows it. A loved one, perhaps, if one such as her can love. She swallows. "Even so, I take your meaning, I think. Thank you for your time, sir, and your words." Though she'll look around first before, tentatively, walking to the shore.
"Hm," acknowledges her thanks, maybe also, if belatedly, the condition given to the dragonless remainder. As H'kon turns to make his way over to that figure, Arekoth might be seen, sensed even, in the sky, on his way to somewhere near, if still also far enough.
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