Logs:On Fear
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| RL Date: 17 April, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Rh'mis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rosvelth and Arekoth defeat the wind. H'kon and Rh'mis... have a philosophical discussion on fear. Because of course they do. |
| Where: Plateau near High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 7, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
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| Plateau near High Reaches Weyr Cold and windswept, this is not the most picnic-friendly locale, to say the least. There's no shrubbery, no trees, no shade, no respite from the constant press of wind that roams across this small, high-altitude valley. Only a few dragonlengths wide, semi-circular, the plateau sits high enough to command quite a view of the mountains stretching out and down toward the sea. Only a few hours of hiking from High Reaches Weyr, it still seems intensely remote up here, with no birds, no people, no signs of life for miles. Accessible by a path climbing up the west-facing side of the plateau, a winding and rocky trail leading at a steep incline. There's a little respite from the wind on the way up, a small indentation-- not even a real cave, just a slight depression in the rock-- that keeps the wind somewhat at bay, only about twenty feet below the terminal of the path. « Hah! Winds. » Arekoth is still settling his wings along his back as he throws the taunt, words short and sharp, much as they've been throughout today's test of muscle and mental flexibility. It's a day that Arekoth is all to ready to claim as his, even with the younger, bigger brown right there. He and H'kon found their zone, read the wind, performed well. Even that little brownrider looks quietly satisfied when his boots hit the ground, though his expression turns more stern when he goes to inspect his dragon's straps. H'kon surely knows Rh'mis is there too... even if he doesn't look to him or acknowledge him in any way. « A valiant victory, » decides Rosvelth, casting about for some more 'v' words to add to his recitation of the tale. « Those violent winds have been vanquished! » They haven't. It doesn't matter. He drops to the ground after Arekoth and a respectable distance away, shaking his wings out as if the wind hasn't done that well enough already, before furling them about himself like a cloak. He likes the challenge of days like this; likes the tales. And even Rhey... it could be that the line of his shoulders is satisfied, somehow. Somehow. They boy glances up at his brown, pokes at the leather, and then turns, arms folding in front of him, to glance - almost expectant - at H'kon. One leather strip gets a sharp tug, all at once. Arekoth tries to look, but it's a rough angle. H'kon simply grunts, and steps back, fingers still flexing at his side, remembering whatever information they've gleaned from that pull. "They'll need replacing soon," is said as if it's a lesson for the boy. Maybe it is, or is meant to be. A few more finger flicks, and then the older rider has brought his arms over his chest, and walks some steps away from his dragon, to inspect the plateau, despite the wind gusting at his face. Rh'mis doesn't answer. If it's a lesson, if it's a lesson he's actually paid mind to, anyway, it will just have to go unstated. The younger brownrider moves when H'kon does, trailing after him - but not sulkily, thankfully - about the plateau. So much for summer; he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn, clearly second-hand, riding jacket. Not that he looks cold, mind, not really. Blue eyes stare out over the vista: the mountains, the distant ocean. « Not this again, » groans Rosvelth. Stupid rider. Stupid silence. Arekoth has raised his snout to scent at the wind, whatever it is he thinks he smells on it. Adventure, maybe. Further challenge. « What again? » asks the other brown, attention snapping to their respective bipedal counterparts down yonder. Well. Closer than yonder. H'kon allows that silence to carry on for some time, certainly time enough for further dragoning, and when he does speak, he scarcely turns his head. Who knows how much of, "The winds should not be feared," will actually reach Rh'mis. "Some avoid them nonetheless." « He's not saying anything, » grumbles Rosvelth. « Again. It's so boring. » His 'cloak' of wings flutters in the wind, and he shifts, as if better to feel it, embrace it, know it. Something. Luckily, H'kon (eventually) breaks the silence, and the younger brown subsides. "Fear is stupid," answers Rhey, dismissively, though it's difficult to tell from that whether he's actually heard the entirety of the Wingsecond's remark. "What's the point?" « Oh, that. » Arekoth gives his attention back to the wind, hooked snout pointing up, just a little. « Maybe he's thinking. » H'kon turns his face back forward, and lifts his chin, just a little, eyebrows drawing up a sharp line against the gusts of wind. "Fear is not stupid," says the older man, careful and certain. "It serves a purpose. But that purpose is not to limit action. Fear informs." « Boring. » Rosvelth will not be convinced otherwise. Thinking is boring. Anything that doesn't involve talking to other people, to a captive audience? Boring. Boring, boring, boring. Rhey's chin also lifts, just short of defiant, as H'kon answers - as he himself takes a few more steps forward so that he can fall in alongside the other brownrider. "Not always," he counters. "Sometimes people are afraid for no reason, but they can't see it. That doesn't inform." H'kon waits long enough that he must have given some thought to the boy's words. He chooses, at last, "Fear is not a natural state." And still to the wind, adds, "The information there is that the person afraid is not looking hard enough." Arekoth has long since switched over, looking back to Rosvelth. « We should go chase an ocean wind next. » "Facing fears," supposes Rhey, which does seem to suggest that he's treating this conversation as a serious one, one to be engaged with. Which says something, really. "Or not facing them, rather. Sometimes, fear starts feeling like a natural state. To some people. But it's not. It shouldn't be." « Oh, yes. » Rosvelth is pleased by this idea. « The spray of the surf, attempting to cut us down in our prime. But we won't let it, will we? We will prevail. » Rosvelth is not afraid of anything. "No," H'kon is ready enough to agree, "it should not." His arms flex against each other, and he gives a late, affirming nod. "If it was - naturally constant - then it would serve no purpose. There could be no differentiation." « Cut us down, or trick the winds and air into changing, a sneak attack! » More and more, Arekoth has been going along with these. Who knew it was so enjoyable? The tips of his wings shake defiantly, there against his sides. All of which leads, one thought tripping after another, to: "No emotions, feelings, whatever, should be constant. Because anything that's constant stops serving a purpose. It stops mattering." Rhey's expression is so serious as he says that, and so determined, that it's obvious he's thinking of this in a personal context, too. "But fear... you were speaking of wind. Flying in it." It may have just gotten too close for poor Rhey. « A sneak attack! No, no, we can't have that. I mean... not that we wouldn't win, of course! We're more powerful than those winds, even when they recruit the water as their minion. We're more powerful than anything. » It's only right that Arekoth play along. Why wouldn't he? H'kon doesn't look at Rhey. He doesn't have to. One ear stays aimed at the young brownrider, and H'kon's expression stays set. "Indeed," comes at the end of all that, with some finality. That ear can just as well listen to the winds for a few moments. Once those are up, H'kon turns, and starts back toward those dragons. Those dragons, the sharper-nosed of whom has opened his mouth to let the wind feel his teeth. « And certainly more clever. » Rh'mis watches anything but H'kon, really. Watches; thinks, too. He's still, and lost enough in wherever his thoughts are taking him that it takes him a few seconds to actually register the other brownrider's movement. He could catch up, but he doesn't: he takes his time, keeping his stride short and slow, despite Rosvelth's obvious eagerness and impatience. « Oh, much more clever, of course. You and me... we could outsmart anything, I'm sure of it. Outsmart a queen, even. » « Definitely. And then, there would be even more clever dragons. » The older - no, more experienced - brown has turned to inspect his younger counterpart. « Aren't you one of mine? » Okay, so longterm memory and current associations can bleed into each other, sometimes, when dragging them from your rider. Your rider, who gives another pull to that weakening area of Arekoth's straps, and then turns back to Rh'mis. "Is there anything you need time on, before we return?" He's almost certainly talking about dragon exercise, so practical and straightforward, and looking directly at the boy. Is he? Rosvelth's not sure, come to think of it, and that's a failing... a great hero ought to know his lineage! « We do need more clever dragons, » he concludes, instead. « I'll have to live up to your fine example. » And not forget. The trouble is that it's simply not the kind of thing Rhey pays attention too - stupid Rhey. "No," answers the aforementioned stupid, glancing from his dragon to the other rider. "No, we can go back." He sounds distracted. "Hm," is apparently response enough, paired with a nod. H'kon doesn't dwell on Rh'mis' face, and if he thinks at all about the boy's intonation, it's while turning and hauling himself to his dragon's neck. Arekoth stretches his wings, eagerness at war with the beginnings of fatigue. « You've got your work cut out for you. » But he sounds pleased. Proud, even. This was totally his day. « You'll see! » is Rosvelth's answer to that. It can be Arekoth's day; Rosvelth doesn't mind sharing. Especially when there's - once more - wind to enjoy beneath his wings, and a whole sky at his command. And if Rhey's quiet, on the way home? Well, that's scarcely unusual. |
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