Logs:Of Fall Confusion
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| RL Date: 23 September, 2007 |
| Who: B'yan, Gay, Melata, R'dur, R'hin, Shanlee |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 13 (Interval 10) |
| Leiventh You are perched on Leiventh's warm bronze neck, his hide soft against your touch. Crom Hold(#420RIJs) Like many Holds of Pern, Crom is built within the shelter of a solid panel of rock. An expansive courtyard rests beneath this shelter, leaving up towards massive stone-wrought doors and a wide deck of smoothed boulders. The distinctive shadows of the watchdragon's ledge, the drumheights, and the fireheights rise high on the cliff and dotted along the wall are windows that are either flung open or shuttered depending on the weather or, more dangerously, Thread. Vegetation is lacking in this mine-based Hold, though the carts and beaten paths of miners returning home weave in twisted circles about the Hold, leading far off towards the furthest reaches of the few mines untouched near Crom itself. A proud Hold, the crests and banners of the family flap in the wind, hanging from the highest windows of the stone walls. Contents: Gyron Ancaith(#5577JOep) Sarevith Verenth Kaylith Alidaeth Liabeth Obvious exits: Clearing » Alidaeth is playing it safer now, no fancy moves as he dodges the Thread and the other dragons filling the sky. When he sees the next piece heading his way, he tilts to one side, banking away from it as he releases a gout of flame that just catches the remaining piece of Thread, charring it into nothing but ash to drift downward slowly. » The ground crew below is getting a workout and earning their keep as dust and half-charred fragments of Thread make their way down. A young teenager who fails to pay attention finds his arm brushed with Thread and cries out in pain. Meanwhile, in the skies, a tangle drops with alarming precision towards Liabeth and in particular Gay's back. » Though the leading edge tapers off, one last assault made to cause as much havoc as possible rains on Telgar and High Reaches alike. Once it dissipates, however, the grey clouds above disperse slowly to reveal the sun still shining high in the sky and leaves damage appraisal to Crom, as well as each Weyr. » Sarevith's blue-tipped wings work harder to maintain position while avoiding and evading the working Reachian wings. He and many of his wingmates are trying to support the Reachian efforts rather than complicate them, but their overhead position and not much space left below as the lower goldflights are already at treetop level prevents much shifting. Flames burst forth in clearings, but much thread gets past the wing, and frequent curses come from T'bay until the skies again start to clear. » Below, too late the people directing the chaotic crew realize the risk that their increased numbers present. Two young men are wounded enough by Threadscore to have retreated for tending and a third's choking on dust kicked up in an effort to go after a burrow singlehanded. The crewleaders have called their folk back, but as the strands slipping through the dragons above come more and more rarely and the sky starts to clear, the orders and actions on the ground divide. Some of course are attentive to the burrows that must now be chased down, but many more stare up openly at the two Weyrs' worth of pairs above, watching in wonder, or frustration. » Verenth starts to go into a long glide, leading Avalanche Wing away from the upper tiers, once it becomes obvious that the Fall has ended. Verenth drops down towards the lower High Reaches wings, followed mostly by blues and greens, but also a scattering of browns and bronzes. » Leiventh is focused solely on the fight itself - low rumbling warning escaping him even as the last of the Thread begins to dissapate. The 'Reachian bronze hovers high above the smattering of dragons - far too many dragons - and lets out a loud, defiant challenge. » Liabeth begins to rise higher into the skies as the fall clears, though there's not a lot of room - the air is crowded with dragons. The gold turns her attention up to Niereth, almost studiously avoiding looking at the Reachian dragons while she does. At the challenge from Leiventh, the pair reach a quick conclusion; time to go. E'tyn signals the wing, and Gaycia follows suit, looking fairly ill. » From Alidaeth's neck, R'dur, when it clears, releases a slow breath, eyes closing a moment while Alidaeth continues flying, his head swinging around to eye the singed tip of his right wing. R'dur glances, not to his dragon's injury, but to the assembled Weyrs with a blank, rather uncomprehending look as he finally gets a chance to pay attention. Alidaeth's irritated chitterings ensue, though, at Leiventh's bugle--the brown sulky as R'dur makes him follow the rest of Telgar in their exit. Leiventh> No one sense that Leiventh's mindvoice is chill with the High Reaches winter - brittle and cold. His thoughts don't come in words but in feelings -his- land, -his- dragons. -Their- Thread. The possessive thoughts spiral outward to all the dragons over Crom. » Kaylith is keeping that scored forepaw firmly tucked in under her. Shan's in turn trying to crane her neck to see the damage done to her beloved lifemate. The little green hovers as her rider's pale, tight expression exhibits the confusion and chaos of the battle. Leiventh's brassy challenge snapping her out of it, anger replacing shock "What the sharding shell just happened! Someone better have answers!" coming perhaps loud enough for any close by to hear as the Telgari wings peel away and return to their weyr. » Sarevith and his rider are not asking questions, not with the results of the chaos so present around them. When the directions come to return home, he hastily obliges, barely leaving T'bay a moment to take in and wince at the sights. » Leiventh lets out another rumbling, low challenge as the Telgari wings begin to leave, though the bronze's possessive tone doesn't lessen any. His land, his dragons, -their- Thread! R'hin, atop the dragon, stares stiffly down towards Niereth and his rider, pulling off his helmet. With a sharp wave of hand, the mental order is give for Icicle to assist the Crom groundcrew, and the remaining wings are ordered back to High Reaches Weyr. » On Verenth, Melata is repeating Shanlee's exclamation, although perhaps not as loudly...there are several dragons with burns and scores she needs to be keeping an eye upon. More injuries than usual have been sustained in the chaos. Avalanche Wing swings in behind the Wings ordered back to High Reaches. » Below, crewleaders are already in conference with the Hold's steward, whose words though quiet could be determined to include numerous references to discussing the situation with their Lord. Still many pairs of eyes are trained more on the sky than on the burrows that must be exterminated, and only as the wings of High Reaches turn home do the people of Crom really focus properly on their post-fall tasks. » On Kaylith, Icicle drop off and down as ordered with just a few backward glares sent at the last straggling Telgari's as they blink between. Within moments the crack wing are putting their backs to the task on the ground of exterminating burrows while trying to avoid the looks coming from hold crews already there. » Amidst their own, quieter rumblings, the Telgari wings blink between. » Sarevith wings upward, out of the area. You rise up, out of the area. You swoop down to a landing on the ground. You hop down Leiventh's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a greeting. Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#840RIJs) Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters. The afternoon is dotted with a few grey clouds. A moderate rain falls, and doesn't look to end anytime soon. It is completely still, no winds blow and the summer air is pleasantly warm. The ground beneath your feet is wet from the last storm. Contents: Melata Verenth Leiventh Obvious exits: Weyrleader Ledges Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore Western Bowl Your location's current time: 15:20 on day 31, month 7, Turn 13, of the Interval. It is a summer afternoon. High above the mountains, Kaylith circles lower into the High Reaches Weyr bowl. In the sky directly above, Kaylith backwings to a neat landing on the ground. Kaylith has arrived. Shanlee hops down Kaylith's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly. Shanlee has arrived. Leiventh's barely touched the ground before R'hin leaps off, touching the dirt of the bowl with a thud. His normally publically stoic reassurance post-fall is nowhere to be seen, striding fury around him as he seeks out Melata and Shanlee. "Can someone explain to me me what," he growls, "Just happened?" Leiventh leaps up again, circling the skies above, low, rumbling challenge echoing over the Weyr, the bronze's agitation echoing his rider's. Kaylith lands heavily, her scored forepaw kept clear of the rocky ground as she does. This has her slewing off to one side and Shan almost toppling off sideways in her exhaustion. Shaky legs take the Weyrsecond down the grayish side of her dragon. Leaning heavily for a moment, helmet and goggles are ripped off and thrown angrily down to the ground a stream of curses coming forth as she sets about getting the little green to put her paw out. The Weyrleader's query met with a dark look but no reply is found in her own confusion for just that. Melata looks over her shoulder from where she is talking to a blue rider who's dragon is being ministered to by dragonhealers for a minor threadscore. She waves over a Wingsecond to take over, then turns to answer the Wingleader, "No idea. The Telgari wings have enough area to deal with on their own. There is no need nor want to venture into Reachian coverage...at least not that I'd ever seen during the real Fall, not this Interval-fall stuff." The old Wingleader shrugs, then turns again back to the needs of Avalanche riders. R'hin's brow furrows at Melata's words, earning a low growl: "E'tyn's not the sort to reach beyond his due. So why in Faranth were they--" It seems that Kaylith's injury only belatedly garners R'hin's attention - something he'd normally look to first. "Here, you-- help her," the Weyrleader is abrupt, pre-emptorily gaining the attention of one of the other dragonhealers to assist Kaylith, watching with silent, dark expression. His head tips up to Leiventh, who lets out another trumpet to echo across the Weyr. High Reaches dragons sense that Leiventh's mindvoice is chill with the brittle coldness of High Reaches winter-- all sharp and strong and impossible to ignore. His trumpeting echo drifts outwards, claiming possession over the 'Reaches and its domain, his agitation clear in the sparks that punctuate his mental tones. Verenth looks up from where he is waiting impatiently for his rider to finish her rounds and go to the lake to scrub him off. He snorts in the general direction of the Weyrleader's bronze, a snort which plainly sounds of the foolishness of brash youngsters (of course, any more, most dragons are youngsters to Verenth). He returns to his impatient waiting. Melata ignores the byplay as she talks in low conversation to a healer about the possibility of permanent wing-joint damage of a green who had to return to the Weyr early in the Fall. Muted cries of pain from dragons and riders fill the air along with the low murmuring bewilderment from many quarters. Some will glance the Weyrleader's way openly, others from under lowered lashes, but all with the same need to them - that of answers. An infirmary aide scurries over with redwort, oil and numbweed as well as a pile of clean bandages. About to shove the woman aside sent by R'hin, Shan acquiesces and has Kaylith do the same when she realizes she's in no state to tend to her dragon herself. Bending to still the nausea that threatens, the Weyrsecond twists her head enough to catch Leiventh's circling above. In a low, flat tone, she manages to offer "Then someone forgot who they're beholden to. But why call Telgar? What reason would there be?" green eyes lift to R'hin sending a multitude of unspoken questions. There is muttering all about the bowl - riders and residents alike whispering and darting glances at bronze above. The routine of post-fall continues, if not punctuated by uneasy chatter. "Telgar was there?" "Who called them?" In the sky directly above, Jaireth wings down to a quick landing on the ground. Jaireth has arrived. B'yan hops down Jaireth's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a greeting. B'yan has arrived. Something finally seems to snap R'hin out of his anger - maybe it's Leiventh's challenge, or Shanlee's expression, -something-, and he directs M'wen to look to the wing. A steadying hand is settled on Shanlee's back after he secures some water, bending to offer her the glass. "Crom would not--" he catches himself, abruptly, and stark realisation is followed swiftly by a renewed cursing. "He wouldn't. He -would-. That idiot, son of--" his mouth snaps shut as he catches sight of the open mouth of a nearby healer apprentice, who hastily scurries away. Melata glances over her shoulder again, then returns to the discussion with the healer. Black ash smears as Shan angrily swipes a hand across eyes that had teared up at Kaylith's soft whuffle of pain "Get that sharding numbweed onto her now!" grating out at the healer, who is working as fast as she can. It's the appearance of water and R'hin's hand at her back that seem to lend the Weyrsecond some equilibrium and the healer space to do her job. Straightening slowly the glass is taken up with a grateful flash eyes to the Weyrleader and promptly downed. The greenrider does however almost choke on the last mouthful at his words "What do you mean he -would-?" eyes narrowing. Among the dragons landing, Jaireth settles down a few paces away from the injured with another bronze and brown flanking him. B'yan dismounts slowly, scanning those injured as his feet hits the ground. He's not close enough to hear the words exchanged between the Weyrleader and Weyrsecond, though his gaze passes and lingers a few moments before one of Snowstrike's wingriders approaches and blocks him from view with his hand raised. R'hin's expression is firm, unrepentant, even at Shanlee's tone, he grinds out, "I told him to close those crackdusted mines. His land is riddled with them, we just can't--" he breaks off, growling, "He refused. Just said he'd find a Weyr that -could-. I didn't think he meant it." A hiss of breath escapes him, pale eyes moving across the various dragons, then back to Kaylith with a frown. Melata is listening now. Of course, most of the persons, rider and not, close enough to hear are doing likewise. It is difficult to do otherwise, what with the rumors already circulating and the not-so-quiet exclamations coming from the Weyrleadership. On the outskirts of the assembled dragons, Verenth has grown too impatient waiting for his rider and stomps off towards the lake to take his own bath and rub in the sands. "You met with him again?" Shan's expression turning hard at R'hin's ensuing words "On your own?" Turning in time to catch a rider straining to overhear the conversation a glare is sent his way and her voice drops a degree "How am I supposed to help, if you don't let me know the when and where of things?" The numbweed must be working its ways, for Kaylith has quietened and allowing the healer to wrap clean bandages around her forepaw without much fuss. Back to the Weyrleader "That the man is a fool goes without question. That he called another weyr? On -our- area?" a fresh wave of nausea halts words as the Weyrsecond bends again to fight it. Once the wingrider moves out of his way, B'yan exchanges low words with the bluerider as he steps beside him. He the rider approach pass Melata, each with a nod, then continue closer to R'hin and Shanlee in continued low tones. Once within speaking distance of the two, the wingsecond breaks the low discussion and stops infront of R'hin with a small frown. "K'del just told me what happened," he states, adding a curt nod over to Shanlee before returning to the Weyrleader. Casting a look about the crowd, "How bad?" R'hin actually takes a small step back, surprised by the ferocity of Shanlee's words. "The old fool didn't respond to diplomacy. I -tried- Shan, you know I did. I thought if it was just me and him-- no one else-- we could hash it out." Gloved fingers curl up, eyes narrowed and distant. "I-- -we'll- sort it out. E'tyn knows Crom is ours." The same possessiveness that laces Leiventh's low rumbling creeps into the Weyleader's tone, too. A furrow of brow, and another look at Shanlee, and he reaches for her arm to help steady her. "Quick," he grabs the attention of one of the apprentices, "Bring a chair." The boy scurries off to comply. "I'll need you to send some of Snowstrike's to help Icicle with the clean up at Crom." he gruffly answers B'yan, with a subtle glance upwards, the request perhaps answer enough. Melata asks for permission to go to the infirmary to deal with several potntially problamatic cases in her Wing. Without waiting for the 'yah' or 'nah', however, she is already on her way, calling for a dragonhealer with which she has been conversing to wait up. She'll learn more about the Crom issue later in the evening. Verenth wanders towards the lake shore. Verenth has left. Melata wanders past the enormous folding doors, into the dragon infirmary. Melata has left. Leaning lightly on R'hin's grasp of her arm, Shan jerks away at the idea of chair being brought out "I'm tired, not dead." the reply lightly truculent in its delivery, the proud lift of chin belying the bravado. "Old, a fool and -male-" the Weyrsecond returns with a pointed look followed by a heavy sigh "It's a little too late now for 'I told you so's' and finger pointing. How do we fix this?" for surely he had a plan already forming for that. B'yan's arrival is met with a sidelong glance "Bad enough to have two weyrs banging heads mid-air during Fall over a Lord holder that has less sense then a badly trained firelizard." eyes widen at her own words as something sneaks up on her mentally. B'yan doesn't really need to say anything, the look he conveys K'del at his side being enough. However, aloud he jerks his head behind them and says, "Get Vania and the others to go with you." When the bluerider is gone, he looks Shanlee over critically when R'hin calls for a chair, then turns that scrutiny on her green. With him clearly at a loss at the exchange of words between Weyrleader and Weyrsecond, he gestures in the direction of the infirmary, "Anything else? I think some of these here could use more numbweed." Or something as his gesture shifts towards the injured dragons and riders about them. A distracted nod of head is R'hin's acknowledgement of Melata's query, his fingers curling tighter around Shanlee's arm, perhaps inadvertantly, before she pulls away. The chair arrives, and he doesn't press her into it, though he is watching her with a steady look. "We'll talk to him together--" he says, musingly. "--or maybe even Satiet. I think we're past diplomacy with him," a hint of dismissiveness in his tone. "And Satiet and I will sort out Telgar. I'll need you to go to Crom and check on their firelizards, too. Talk to the harper there." B'yan is given a measured look by the Weyrleader, "The healers know what they're doing. Not even I'd try and get in their way. Do you have any contacts in Crom?" he asks, abruptly, voice low and pointed. Leiventh> Liabeth senses that Leiventh's mental voice is brittle with the cool of High Reaches' winter, sparks of agitation still visible in the bronze's aura as he reaches out towards Niereth and Liabeth alike. « We will talk about *Crom*. Soon. » He is reticent, polite but nothing more. Shanlee's brows knit together "Crom's flit." forgetting herself and the correct term as she starts to voice her worry over something potentially having gone horribly wrong with the warning system "Did it come here or to Telgar? Where's R'ndor?" the weyr 'lizard handler named, a curt nod of head "I'll go as soon as Kaylith is cleared." B'yan's attention is met with a guarded look and hasty "I'm fine, I think." Kaylith, now blissfully numb and settling herself, raises the bandaged and scored forepaw a little, seemingly a sucker for sympathy "She got clipped." the last word cracking and then covered over with a judicious clearing of throat. Stubborn in displaying any sign of weakness, the Weyrsecond uses the chair instead to put the empty water glass onto, a brush of hand across her neck to move hair that had escaped and irritated reveals ashburn but nothing more. The tightening of fingers on her arm and mention of the senior Weyrwoman lift a brow R'hin's way "Diplomacy can still be used to smooth things over." the upward lilt of tone giving that she wasn't really to sure of that herself. Leiventh senses that Liabeth responds for both, ruby red warmth trapped behind diamondine cold brilliance. In husky tones, « We will. » Acceptance, that simple. The gold is likewise polite, controlled. B'yan is watching those healers until R'hin's words reach him, catching the measured look evenly. Once Shanlee mentions that she's fine along with Kaylith's condition, "You should probably take a few breaths before you go," he notes in a neutrally matter-of-fact tone, his scrutiny of the visible injuries never lessening. It's R'hin's last that get a sharp looks from the bronzerider, though, his face impassive in the pause. Then when he looks away, his voice dropping low and hollow, "Got a few," he responds briskly. "If they're still around and loyal." R'hin's expression is distant for a moment or two, that familiar look that riders get when talking to their dragons. A brief tightening of lips a moment later, and his attention shifts back to Shanlee as Leiventh continues to circle the bowl overhead. It's subtle, the way in which he shifts his grip on Shanlee's arm so it looks less like support and more as if he is about to escort her on a dance. "Perhaps," but he sounds dismissive of the idea. "Diplomacy got us nowhere for months, and we lost riders fighting over land he has no business being in during 'fall." His musing gaze drifts over the dragons in the bowl, as the uninjured begin to drift off towards the lake, or their weyrs. "Find out," is his response to B'yan. His voice is low, murmured to the pair, "We need to know what's going on there. I don't like surprises." Working with one hand at her jacket to unbutton it, Shan manages to afford B'yan dry amusement "You don't think they'd appreciate the 'freshly charred' look? Or the eau de firestone stench?" A shake of head and return to solemnity "She'll need a day or so to rest up first. Best to let the dust settle too I would imagine." The Weyrleader's words on the losses they'd experienced that day, draw the greenrider's mouth into a tight line, tone following suit "Never felt at ease over there. Not even during watches. Cold, distant." a few words given in explanation before green eyes turn back to the Snowstrike wingsecond with an expectant look for whatever contacts he might have at Crom. The hand at her arm, not being argued any further for the moment. Head tilting with a raised brow, "You want eyes and ears?" B'yan returns to the Weyrleader smoothly, showing just a faint hint of curiosity in his voice at the response. Hazel eyes drop to the hand on Shanlee's arm briefly, "If so, I can check on the one that would be of proper assistance." He keeps his words neutral and vague, casting a deliberate look about the bowl with them being surrounded. Shanlee gets a tip of his head, conceding something she says with "A few in Snowstrike were mentioning they felt that way in Crom recently, too. Was something I was thinking on checking out for myself." "Crom'll be upset about the burrows-- but it was total chaos out there." R'hin's words seeming to agree with Shanlee's suggestion of waiting a few days, his gaze lingering on the Weyrsecond for a beat or two. He runs free hand over his head, exhaling wearily. "Crom is Crom. It's always been like that- it always will." He gives a firm nod of head towards B'yan, pale gaze even, resolute: "Do that. And let's hope to Faranth we don't need them." Leiventh> I bespoke Kaylith with « Mine says, » the bronze's tone is still cool, but minutely less agitated. He passes the message on, simply, « That he wants yours to see a healer. » Now Shan extricates her arm from R'hin's grasp to pull the jacket off and strangely enough check it over first for damage, before setting to poking and prodding herself. Satisfied that all seems to be as it should be and the nausea of shock and exhaustion having faded, the jacket is folded over an arm, a healer passing nearby hailed and asked to provide water for the little green. Coming back to the topic at hand "If Charis hadn't have made herself so well known down that way I'd suggest using her." light sarcasm touching through "She's familiar with the area and its people." In turn to the Weyrleader "J'tin and the rest of Icicle are pretty good at the whole charm thing..." words trailing in hollow hope of the wing left to help mop up having any positive effect on the situation. With a purse of lips to B'yan having wanted to check on Crom beforehand "You're too well known now too. Best to find someone less...obtrusive. A shadow seeker." given with a twist of mouth. Leiventh senses that Kaylith's reply is slow and somewhat fuzzy in coming, a combination of weariness and the after effects of battle « Mine will do as requested but finds no need for it. » Agitation for her rider's stubbornness filtering through « She will not disobey yours. » "Not that well-known these days," B'yan quips to the Weyrsecond on being known in Crom, lips twisting briefly at the dry words. "Save for the holders that happen to see me and the wing around. I have someone in mind," and his glance shifts to R'hin with a curt nod, "if he's still around." He seems satisfied enough with R'hin's response and leaves it at that, snorting softly at the comment made on the female bluerider being well known in that particular area and adding, "I have a feeling it's going to take more than charm with Crom," in dryness. "If it's as bad as I've heard, then simple persuasion will be the least of your worries." "It may be worth sending her down as an overt distraction," R'hin murmurs, a little twitch of lips evidenced, making it difficult to determine if the comment is facetious or merely amusing. "Mm. J'tin could be useful," he concedes. The few lingering people who were hanging around finally disperse, and the injured are taken into the infirmary. A glance upwards, and the Weyrleader says, "I have to convince Leiventh to come down long enough for a good scrubbing - I could use a bath myself." He brushes a bit of crackdust off his jacket. "We'll talk later." It's difficult to tell if the comment is directed to Shanlee, B'yan, or to both. Shanlee manages a wan semblance of a grin "Although if I know J'tin he probably already has a few that owe him a thump or two." on Icicle's wingsecond. Brows arc upward at R'hin's comment on her clutchmate "Not if her father's still working down the mines. The last meet wasn't exactly full of familial love and bonding." The bowl emptying and mention of bathing and scrubbings have the Weyrsecond nodding in agreement, exhaustion clearly written on the fine features "Could do with a wineskin and a weeks worth of sleep." With a silent note to her lifemate, the little green lumbers to her feet, careful to keep her forepaw raised in doing so "We'll talk later." confirmed to the Weyrleader in repeating his words back to him with a glance going B'yan's way. With a click sounding at the back of his throat in veiled amusement, "A distraction?" B'yan echoes, regarding R'hin steadily as if it would reveal his thoughts and plans. His gaze lingers with raised brows before Shanlee gets his attention and he turns to glance back at the muddy bronze. When it looks like the conversation was at its end by the Weyrleader's last, "Perhaps I can figure something out from the records," he muses, nodding to them both on their responses, giving a silent agreement to talking later. With a brief tip of head, R'hin spins on a heel and stalks away across the bowl, pausing briefly to chat with one of the healers, bending his head to exchange a few quiet words. That done, he paces towards the bowl, Leiventh shadowing him from above. With R'hin turning to leave, B'yan casts an unreadable look and nod of farewell Shanlee's way before he's lifting a hand to one of the healers, following him towards the caverns at a fast trot. Following R'hin's path, Shan frowns at his pause near the healer and deliberately turns her back should he be sending them in her direction, a glare going Kaylith's way too. B'yan's look is caught and elicits an arc of brow in response. Left on their own, the green pair make their way to bathings, scrubbings and sleep. B'yan wanders towards the western side of the bowl. B'yan has left. You go up the stairs to Weyrleader's ledge. |
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