Logs:Of Concern
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| RL Date: 7 May, 2006 |
| Who: Satiet, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 7, Turn 7 (Interval 10) |
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| Your location's current time: 15:02 on day 31, month 7, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer afternoon. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons adore diving from high above into the lake's deep center, often imploring to their lifemates to bathe them with sweetsand. Humans and firelizards alike frequently fish from these clear waters, which are abundantly stocked. Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way. The afternoon is partly cloudy, though the sun still shines through. The air is calm, with no hint of breeze. The water's glasslike surface mirrors the cliff walls and sky above. Contents: Satiet Leiventh Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl It's a warm summer afternoon, and both R'hin and Leiventh are taking full advantage of the scant time they have between chores. R'hin is camped out on his chosen rock - one that's perfect for sunbathing, and that's just what he's doing, his shirt piled under his head as a makeshift pillow. Lying just to the left of him is a pair of practice riding straps, as well as a sewing kit - but judging by the distinct lack of work he's done, it's more for an excuse should any particular people show up than with the intention of actually doing any work. Leiventh, for his part, is moving slowly, deliberately around the lake shore, and seems to be examining rocks with unusual intensity. "You won't find a better one than mine," R'hin mutters under his breath. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh disagrees, « Have you actually -looked- at all the rocks here? There are some nice ones. I just have to decide which is the nicest. » Just one of the many who are taking advantage of the warm afternoon, a slight figure appears looping around a bend from the far end of the lake. The bobble of a damp runnertail keeps the beat of her steady pace, and as the blue-clad figure moves closer, the fine sheen of sweat along her forehead as well as who she is becomes all the more visible. Slung across Satiet's shoulder is a wine skin that slaps audibly against her hip with each of her movements, and the indistinctive lip movements of someone carrying an internal conversation, or at the very least some sort of count, furrows her brow in thought. Still quite a distance away, it's unclear whether she notices R'hin or his larger counterpart yet. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh warns, judiciously, « Incoming. » "Uh-huh. Can I take it to mean this one-up-manship is a result of too much time spent with Gruvfeath? You -know- you have to let him beat you, right?" There's a brief pause, before R'hin props himself up onto one elbow, peering in Leiventh's direction. He follows the dragon's gaze towards the weyrwoman, lips quirking in amusement. "Well, if it isn't the lady of the spires, all hot and bothered, no less." His voice carries, as it is intended, full of amusement. Whether she did see him first or not is moot, as when hailed, it's difficult for Satiet to flat out ignore the weyrling. Still, for a moment, due to a low but very visible exhale, it seems as if she's prepared to just jog past the duo with only the barest acknowledge. But slow down she does, trotting near Leiventh to spare the angular bronze a sidelong look. "He's not eating enough," is her only off-handed comment, conversational rather than any of her usual haughty statements. She slows even further, to allow herself to keep pace with Leiventh rather than vice versa until she's at a still jog. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh returns the examination, saying of Satiet, « She could do with some fattening up, herself. » Moments after he's acknowledged, R'hin snaps out a salute, adding a, "Ma'am," for good measure. Leiventh's head turns to follow Satiet's progress, studying the woman intently in turn. Judging by the sharp bark of laughter from the weyrling, the examination is not done without comment. "The feeling is mutual," he responds, unrepentant grin lingering. Leiventh seems to tire quickly of the attention, and returns to his slow examination of rocks. "Actually, it's fortuitous that I ran into you... or that you ran to me, that is. I've a warning to give you, lady of the spires." He leans back down, not even bothering to pretend any chores are being done, propping an elbow under his head as he closes his eyes against the sunlight. "It's about a boy... a very bad boy, if one is to believe his grandiose claims, one with a dark and mysterious past..." he begins. Clearly, her jog will be interrupted, and more obviously, Satiet is annoyed. A haplessly loose strand of hair that falls into her eyes is brushed away irritably and as her legs slow to a halt, her arms move into action, swinging loosely to stretch her back and shoulders out first. The wine skin lies flat against her hip and several beads of sweat trickle down the side of her neck. Leiventh's appraisal, as conveyed by R'hin is granted a faintly curled smirk, and his next comes in conjunction with a movement to uncork her skin. After the water is splashed liberally over her face and shoulders the top veers sharply up to stop the flow long enough for Satiet to quip dryly, "It's not becoming to speak of yourself in the third person, R'hin." "No, it isn't, and - shockingly, I know - for once I'm not talking about myself. Yes, I confess, I have been out-arroganted. Is that even a word? Well, it should be." R'hin's tones take on a lazy drawl, possibly due to the warmth of the sunshine, but probably simply deliberately to further irritate the weyrwoman. "As a responsible and upstanding member of High Reaches Weyr, it's my duty to protect its assets, no?" He does kind of turn his head a little, enough to eye Satiet sidelong, pointedly. "I mean, how would it look if that itinerant ruffian kidnapped you and I'd never warned you about his dark and mysterious past, of which he never speaks? I believe you've met him briefly - Bayan, of Igen? He has deigns on you, and I suspect he's already planning some nefarious plot, because he's quite a bad boy." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « Laying it on a bit thick, are we, dear boy? » Silence lingers as Satiet just flat out stares, unmoving at the bronzerider. The silence captures the stillness of irritation on the way towards outright frustration, paused as an unlikely thought seems to have lodged in the goldrider's mind. A lax grip causes the lifted skin to tip, splashing some more water on her, and much like a feline caught in an unwanted shower, the dark-haired woman squints and shakes her face free of the excess water droplets. The skin lowers immediately, though remains uncorked, and in the next second laughter, which oddly enough, is quite easily emitted from the young woman's throat, lifts brightly in the air, lacking mocking tones or any sarcastic slant, and becomes a full-bodied expression as it shakes her shoulders and trembles her tummy. "Oh, you are -so- funny. Pray tell more of this dastardly plot you've uncovered." A faint twitch of lips is briefly visible, before R'hin touches a hand to his chest, affecting a hurt expression. "I'm being deadly serious. You wound me, dear lady, it is only my great concern for your wellbeing that prompts such a warning." He reaches out, patting the stretch of flat rock next to him, as if inviting her to sit, though whether or not she does, he continues in a slightly lower voice, conspiratorially. "He threatened dark and evil things upon me, and he has an interest in you - just ask your -best friend-, L'sen. He witnessed it all. Although given he's an optimist, maybe he'll think that Bayan has fallen madly in love with you instead. Either way, I'd be wary. With such a big ego, if you were to but prick him, he would deflate and become a shriveled up hunk, a broken man at a loss for your lack of attention. I imagine that's not very protocol like, destroying the lives of visitors, though I wouldn't know, having not yet had that particular lesson." "And here," the laughter's subsided leaving remnant amusement to soften Satiet's expression, though not her cool voice, "I thought traders were adept at sizing people up." The uncorked water finally finds its way to her lips, a quick swig taken, before it lowers to her side. Invited or no, her refusal is implicit as she sheds the strapped wine skin to the ground, and begins to stretch her legs out, bending to one side and then the other, holding her position there with elbows propped onto her bent knee. Her face lifts to regard R'hin, "You're serious," the lilt of a question carries, but is at odds with flat look of disbelief. "If you were to disappear, what do you think Leiventh would do?" "Very adept," R'hin agrees, without a pause. "Hence my timely warning." His free hand waves vaguely, eyes closed once more against the sunshine. He seems unconcerned with the refusal of the invitation, but the young woman's tone is enough to draw his attention again, eyes slitting open, propped up on one elbow to catch that look of disbelief with a wry smile. "People keep asking me that, if I'm serious, as if it's an impossibility. I'd say I feel wounded by that, too, but coming from you, it's almost a compliment, that you're so concerned for my... sorry, Leiventh's wellbeing. My wellbeing is simply an unfortunate side effect, no?" He nods towards the bronze, who shows no signs of being concerned by the topic at hand. "As gratifying as your worry is, I have it under hand. I have plans to put Maja on his trail. I imagine she'll take care of any concerns in that regard," he says, laughter in his voice. A beat. Then a more amused, and more cold reply ensues throatily from Satiet, "I ask, weyrling, not due to any misplaced concern for your well-being, but the sheer stupidity of your conjecture." Her lopsided lean towards one knee shifts so she can plant her slight weight against the other one, despite the fact it doesn't allow her a view of R'hin, except sidelong-wise. "If you were to disappear, Leiventh would not sit still, nor would your contact be diminished by sheer distance. Unless you were drugged and kept unconscious, somehow," her mouth curves into dry mocking, "It'd be difficult to kidnap a dragonrider. But your concern for -my- well-fare is touching." - "Really." A lengthy pause follows, in which R'hin's even, suddenly unamused look is followed by a dismissive flick of head, voice cooling in equal measures. "Forgive me, lady of the spires. For a moment, I forgot who you were." He leans back onto the rock again, obscuring his own view of Satiet, though it seems like a purposeful decision. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's listening, if a little puzzled by the conversation at hand. His sudden coldness only serves to fuel Satiet's own obstinance, as after the sharpest look towards R'hin to follow the descent of his back to the rocks again, she continues with her cool down, moving to stretch in the middle before sliding her feet towards each other and completing a series of low bends. One arm is caught in the bend of another and pulled to one side, naturally towards the bronze weyrling. "Forgive you?" "Forgive me," R'hin echoes her intonation adeptly, precisely, "For the obviously incorrect assumption you might heed my words as some concern for your wellbeing." His voice drawls out, self-deprecating, "I do, after all, have a debt owed to me, hence your welfare is in my best interests. For now." "My welfare," Satiet returns languidly as she continues her stretch to the other side, "Should always be in your best interests." If she's bothered by what he's said, it's unclear except in the sudden sly twist of her lips. "After all, where will you get someone as willing to be a thorn in your side that is as easy on the eyes. And don't," her arms unwind from their odd positioning so one hand can lift in a stay, "Don't say Maja." "Should it." The inflection makes it stated disbelief rather than query. Another slight pause, in which R'hin turns onto his side, eyes flickering over Satiet, watching her stretch in silence a moment. Eventually: "Why? Would you be jealous if I did?" His voice is pointedly without inflection, even, guarded. "Jealous?" Satiet pauses in her movements to favor R'hin with a feline-like smile of perfect contentment. Her limbs are shook loose, the water skin is retrieved, and her business here seems to be done. "I've little reason to be jealous of Maja, and no doubt you would have little cause in any tension between the two of us. Some people," she notes, almost as an aside, "Aren't made to get along with each other. But you seem to be perfectly happy with most others. Good day, R'hin. You have," she spares his bare chest a smirking glance, "Little need to eat more." "Yet you are the one who named her," R'hin points out, with a tip of head, taking in Satiet's expression, "Not me. Interesting, don't you think?" Still cold in contrast to her contentment, he forgoes any parting greeting or - indeed - parting remarks as is his norm, reclining once more on the rock. Satiet lingers just long enough to hear R'hin's response before she begins a slow jog that begins to arc the perimeter of the bowl. Another jog it would seem. |
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