Logs:Party Crasher
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| RL Date: 24 May, 2013 |
| Who: Rasavyth, Solith, K'zin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi is late to formation. She's unaccounted for. K'zin goes to look for her. She apparently had a wholesome slumberparty with bluerider Neili. |
| Where: Bluerider Neili's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Sh'mel/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, C'wlin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Part 4 in a series of month 11 snippets between K'zin and Telavi. Preceded by Logs: No one wins. |
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| The first problem with messages going astray, if 'astray' can even be the right word for something done deliberately, is when neither sender nor would-be recipient knows there's anything off at all. That first morning had Tela and Solith disappearing at signs of the wingsecond's actual wakefulness, the better to show up on time, tidy and very much not looking like they had had to hurry in the least; on time's par for the course, but not always with that extra degree of composure replacing the go-go-go. The next morning's not only tidy but early. The third morning? Not so much. The air's brisk but not yet bone-chilling, even in the semi-darkness of a northern 'morning,' and not so brisk that it should have put Solith off if she'd been inclined to stick her nose out of her weyr as usual. Not that she is in her weyr, but she's also not too hard to find visually, though it would be even easier if the ledge she's currently visiting weren't so very high and thus easy to overlook while being looked over. Also, if she weren't huddled in the lee of a dark, bony blue dragon significantly larger than she. He cloaks the edges of her thoughts as well, a redoubtable bass presence that buffers some of the outer world in a way that should, did, let her rest. Now, though, she's just starting to get restless. Calisthenics are due to start in a quarter hour, and while she's not necessarily expected, someone else is. 'Accountability' is the word favored by the training manuals for the purpose of a morning formation prior to anything that actually needs to be done. Everyone gets up thirty minutes (or more or less, depending on the people in charge) early and shows up in the bowl to prove they're still living. Only one greenrider is absent. It doesn't bode well. Sh'mel's been holding his own, at least while K'zin is there to back him, and to invisibly help keep him on the right track. They've had few of these sorts of hiccups, but enough that it's a known fact that it's K'zin who does the necessary waking. « Solith, » Rasavyth's tenor does not come as a purr, but it is nonetheless gentle, if firm. « Your Telavi is not at formation. Where is she? » The sensation is that they are already in flight, to check the most likely spot: her bed. Generally, Telavi's been extra-careful not to push things so as not to make them more difficult this month, the very model of a modern... weyrling. However. This morning relies on that well-known fact, though Solith isn't necessarily comfortable with it, for all that neither is she in the least displeased to stay up here for longer. For that sensation, she agrees with a rustle of sheets, a yawn, a burrowing beneath covers. Yes, in bed. « Not home. » Won't that be enough? No, not enough. The bronze pair hovers. « Where? » Rasavyth is still gentle, but he places into his firmness some of the natural strength granted him by the color of his hide. As Tsanth does, though far weaker in strength than the older and more experienced dragon. Which comes first, strength or color? Solith yields, yet in such a way that there's so little tangible to push against. Still, she's minded to answer, though she also adds without prompting, « You might not want to visit. » Or they might, after all. She's going to see. It's not quite the warning Athimeroth got. The directions come not in words that he can act on directly, nor an ultimate destination, but as a shift in the wind that might bear Rasavyth to where she is if only he follows along... if also with a detour looping over the feeding pens along the way. « We are Wingsecond. » Rasavyth answers without apology. « We have no choice. » They are responsible; the rules are defined. If they are unaccounted for at formation, they will be sought until they are adequately so. Specifying a bed, not at home, is not sufficient. In fact, a bed, other than an infirmary bed, is unacceptable. Perhaps if they'd thought to say so ahead, to account for themselves, the green pair could have spared them all whatever unpleasantness is coming. Rasavyth warns his intent to land and then simply does so on the ledge, K'zin sliding down and Rasavyth winging to circle until a pick-up is required. A stranger's weyr. K'zin isn't stupid. "Telavi, you're late!" He bellows. It's not in anger, but rather a loud enough announcement to make the greenrider and whomever her bedmate is should be able to hear him. "You have a count of ten to get out here and explain or have Solith do it for you, or I'm coming in." Ten is fair warning to get decent, right? He counts. 'No choice' gets an extra fillip of breeze, just to show what Solith thinks of that, but she comprehends rules even if she doesn't always obey them, and she doesn't interfere. Neither does she volunteer, except to lean back against the big blue who's rumbled congenially at young Rasavyth. Yes, fine, he can make his deliveries. Yes, fine, the blue's used to it. In fact... but never mind that. He's got an eye on the young rider, too, a presence as though sound here were muffled ever so slightly, as though it just doesn't quite echo the way it should. Still, the shout's perfectly audible. Which doesn't mean it doesn't take a count to, oh, seven or so before there's the answering, familiar call, "Just a minute!" Which might tick the number, depending on how he counts, at least a couple more. Rasavyth's return greeting to the blue before winging away was polite. No doubt some words were exchanged. Rasavyth's professional apology for invading the blue's domicile, a brief explanation. "Until ten, Telavi!" Comes K'zin's firm bellow answers the call. And the count continues. If she's not there by ten, then in he goes, expression annoyed. Nine... Dharnath's untroubled by the younger dragon's explanation, either to take offense at having his guest summarily deported or to boot her off himself, but there gets to be an anticipatory quality to the gleam in his eyes that has Solith looking up at the larger dragon, bemused. ...Ten. And at ten and a half, even though he's on his way, there's finally movement to the curtain. There she comes! Of course, once someone's finally opened the curtain wide enough to see into the shadows beyond... wait. Telavi's gotten shorter? Or, no, it's a different woman smiling up at K'zin in all his annoyance, her dark hair in a pixie cut, 'dressed' in a fluffy robe and feathered mules. She and Tela could even have been comfortable in plaid flannel pajamas in previous hours, anywhere between that and nothing at all, but just now she wears what she wears with style. The belt could stand to have been tied a little tighter, that's all, unless that's just part of the style too. "I'm so sorry, wingsecond. It's all my fault." K'zin is forced to stop short at the woman standing before him. His brows raise, but that's the only betrayal of his surprise. He knew Telavi was into this, he'd just never seen the proof. Maybe he still hasn't. The words, however, have his jaw setting. "With respect, bluerider," He assumes, "It's Telavi's fault. If she's not hurt, sick, or dead, then she should've found her way to formation this morning, or at least have sent a message to account for herself." He looks past the woman, and taking a deep wearying breath and letting it out, he calls, "Telavi, you have fifteen minutes to be dressed and down in time for calisthenics or to be reporting to the infirmary. Let Rasavyth know either way." A nod to the bluerider, "Ma'am, our apologies." Then he's spinning on his heel, the overall tone of his announcement leaving no doubt that if one or the other doesn't occur, there will be further actions taken. Rasavyth angles himself to land on the ledge. The bluerider, for it is the blue's rider, not only listens but then unashamedly listens in, looking between what only she can see of weyrling wingsecond and weyrling-in-weyr and back again, as though this were someone's play being performed right in front of her pert nose. "Rider Neili," she contributes mostly as afterthought, and directs a speaking look toward her weyr. Which is silent. Solith, too, is silent, the dimness desaturating further the pale flecks in her unlidded eyes. Neili murmurs something about hiding right before saying, "Apologies accepted," and spinning on her heel for extra flair to march inside. Even though the curtain falls behind her, it can't quite hide the raised voices from offstage. Solith does however make it down with Telavi as directed, several minutes before the appointed mark, Dharnath shadowing them from above until they're safely landed where they're supposed to be. If Telavi's cheeks are still a dull crimson, at least beneath her helmet, no one can see the state of her hair. |
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