Logs:Pebbles And Rocks
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| RL Date: 21 May, 2013 |
| Who: Olveraeth, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Olveraeth and Solith talk philosophy on a foggy, foggy day. |
| Where: Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, I'zech/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions |
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| Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Directly opposite the sharp spikes of the Reaches' characteristic spires lies the bowl's south rim, from above seeming pinched like a baker's pie crust to form this distinctive lip: a soft curve, several dragonlengths long but only four lengths wide before narrowing into impassable crags. It would have to be an apprentice effort, however, given how even the flatter area is riddled with cracks and hollows, dusted with glittery silicate quartz that is far more gritty than sweet. Though the view down into the bowl is commanding, the views beyond it can be absolutely breathtaking on clear days: eternally snow-capped mountains descending to high-altitude meadows and the dark brush of evergreens, and greener valleys beyond even those, with only glimpses here and there of human habitation. But the views come with a risk: the wind can blow hard and strong, and whether looking inward or outward, there is no protection from the precipitous chasms that fall away from these heights. Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy. There's soft and still and clammy fog, down in the bowl, but the air's relatively clear up at this altitude. It's clear enough that a dragon could, if they were so inclined, fold their wings back and rest their head on their forelimbs, and stare down at the disappearing landmarks and hovering clouds. It'll be night, soon, and then? Then Olveraeth might turn his attention upwards, even if there are clouds up there, too - clouds that will no doubt prevent his star-gazing except when the wind blows just so, to clear his view. The fog's like the lake, except opaque, with the dragons for fish and the occasional human down below as a bottom-feeder. Solith skims across its top, only it's more like she skids, a tossed pebble with diaphanous wings thrown wide to make her even flatter. She's getting faster at it, barely-there hops, now and again dipping a forepaw down to snatch some invisible toy or prey or something. After quite a few runs, though, she rises higher, a sharp ascent that tries to match the spires' angle until she can't anymore and just floats. Floating, floating, floating. Floating down like a little cloud, a piece of gilt-green-blue fog, eventually landing ever so lightly on the Rim. She tilts her head up at Olveraeth, too, once settled. Hello! It's likely that in Olveraeth's study of the world below, he's noticed Solith before now. He may even have been watching her in particular, these past minutes, with a not-quite-paternal pride and no small amount of pleased interest. « Solith, » he greets, his recitation of her name layered with a philosopher's intensity: layer upon layer of meaning, nestled between the syllables. « And did you find wonders, in your voyage, young Solith? Or did they escape you, never to be seen again? » His head turns so that he can look at her, eyes whirling slowly, but with obvious intensity. Her breath of fresh air would riffle through those layers if she could, like the pages of one of those books her rider gets bound up with. She looks at them, tries to read, but then there are his questions, and while Solith has gotten so much more acquainted with Olveraeth over time, he doesn't simplify them for her quite as much; they require thought now too. It takes her a moment, and then her eyes glow greener. « So many! But it is not only find or escape, it can be both, can't it? Otherwise my weyr would be so very full of them, » packed to the brim with shining-scaled ghost-fish and other, equally glittering treasure. Also a pole, if only to sharpen her claws on. « How do you keep yours? » For now, Olveraeth's mind is an open book, his pages easily riffled through, and his thoughts unpenned: the universe of his thoughts is expanding, always, distant stars and galaxies offering an endless array of interest. But for now-- « It can, » he agrees. « After all, can we own such things, even for a little while? I would say, rather, that we are custodians only. » Ideas like fish, frolicking into the endless black, too quick to catch and keep, but enlightening nonetheless. « Tell me about your wonders? » Solith dives into them, then, at first just those pages that say her name, the meanings he associates with her. She's never been so young as to think anyone's universe revolves around her, but surely she'll always be so young as to be curious. Practically, « If we eat them, are we only custodians then? » Not the imaginary fish, but the real ones in the lake they had visited just the other day, gulped and inside and down and, eventually, out. « Mine... » She circles around him, finally dropping down to her paws in the starry blue's lee. She's not wholly out of the wind, after all. It will always find her. Wind and air and light and life play heavily in Olveraeth's captured thoughts on the subject of Solith, and though he has no embarrassment or awkwardness, in letting that be discovered, he does seem interested in her reactions. « Even then, » agrees the blue, without needing to pause and think. « For they do not stay within us for always, and even the bits that do-- we are a collective. We are all connected. You are not simply you, Solith, but part of everything. » His sketched web is not of chains, like his sire's, but stars-- and everything belongs within it. His gaze follows her. She's not surprised, and why should she be? Solith knows herself, and she's pleased to see herself mirrored there, as much as one can mirror anything that so transparently moves. Neither is she self-conscious about Olveraeth knowing that, nor seeing that. As long as he's looking at her, Solith eyes his belly rather wistfully. She used to be able to just run beneath, his and Isath's, or so she has a memory of remembering. Not anymore. But if she can't be so small, at least she can arch her wings high, to show how now she is big! « Sometimes, » she says tentatively, more tentatively by far than that display, « they don't like to be connected. » So big! Olveraeth has borrowed memories to share: memories of teeny tiny little Solith, so completely dwarfed by his bulk. And now-- look at her. Clearly, thanks thanks to the fish (and wherries, and herdbeasts, and so on). « That's true, » he agrees, shifting himself lower to the rim, now, so that Solith can dwarf him for a change, sort of. « But that does not make it any less true. We are all connected. Should we pretend things are not true, because it feels more comfortable? » Solith's enthused about the teeny tiny memories, and now she's picturing an even tinier blue curled up by her paws. Firelizard-sized, almost, though clearly a dragon. This smaller Olveraeth is... almost like that! To make it more realistic, she stands tall, head up, tail a long sleek contrail behind her. « There is connected, and there is connected. » Close, wind against mountainside sliding along every single pebble, and then there's a fragment of a leaf tossed up by the wind in the very great distance. Olveraeth seems quite amused by this game, and adds in his own image: an even tinier Solith, small even to a firelizard, darting and dancing upon the ground near tiny-him's feet. « Indeed, » he agrees, regarding the green with eyes that whirl more quickly still-- he seems pleased by her answer. « It is only when we look to the bigger picture that we can see where all of those connections are. Bigger and bigger-- and bigger. » This could go on and on and on, both a pebble-sized blue Olveraeth and the one that's Rojeth-sized, behind her and transparent as a shadow. « But they do not change each other, not that far, » or Solith thinks? She checks with Olveraeth, because surely he would know. The bit of leaf. The pebble. So far. Not, Olveraeth allows, directly. But-- if that pebble hits that leaf and breaks it? If that leaf flies into the face of a bystander, who trips on that pebble. If-- if, if, if. Olveraeth explores the possibilities with a quiet, contented kind of interest. « The smallest thing can change even the largest, is his opinion. « In this way or that. » The pebble-sized Olveraeth flies in the face of shadow-Rojeth's, ping! The scene stops there, abandoning the images mid-frame. « They can, » Solith repeats, but a touch uncertainly, the arch of her neck letting her look down at the real adult dragon beside her. « They can. But it is... unlikely, » that is the word, isn't it? « What big things do you change, Olveraeth? » They are obvious. They are little. « Unlikely? » Olveraeth accepts that particular use of the word, but seems to disagree with it, too. « How can we judge what impacts our actions have? » he counters, a moment later, tasting the words/thoughts as they pass through his mind. « We do not know what the alternative might be. I teach the future leaders of our Weyr. » Iesaryth and Hraedhyth both - tiny versions of themselves, under the tutelage of the starry blue. « Even tiny things can become big and important. » Solith's sense of certainty, possibly even her sense of self, wavers further. She's not her rider, to hold onto so many things at once and defend them. Judging. Knowing. But then, Guessing. Even, Estimating. What she asks is simple, or at least simply said. « Do they listen to you now, Olveraeth? » Olveraeth is silent for a moment. A long moment. Maybe it's even several moments. « They might, » he says, though he doesn't seem certain of that: he seems abruptly wistful. « Perhaps. » Though ought to. « What would you...? » It doesn't so much trail off into question, as become amorphous, vapor. Tell them? Convince them of? Show them connections between? Solith's tired of looking big, now. She drops her wings, folds them loosely, and sidles into the adult dragon's side. For that, at least, Olveraeth has a definite answer-- well, a definite, if all-encompassing one. He shows rather than tells: the connectedness, the vastness of everything, the insignificance of each dragon and rider (yes, even them and theirs) - and the slightly less' insignificance of their combined abilities. Like so. His wing lifts, all the better to nestle Solith in to the warmth of his side. Like so. Solith settles against him, beneath the umbrella of his wing, a yawn escaping her. Her eyes glow beneath their single lids, even as she lays her head on her paws and gazes out over the edge, not up or down but simply out. That connectedness, the surface of the lake... and yet bigger pebbles, she suggests without words, make bigger splashes. In her world, Isath and Olveraeth, and even Rojeth, are very big indeed. And that? That's enough for Olveraeth, now. His pebbles make a difference to someone. « Oh yes, » he confirms for the little green. « Exactly so. » Exactly. Exactly. It makes Solith happy, a radiant sense of tingliness in the air that isn't, if only unconsciously for starry Olveraeth's sake, exactly sunshine. Still, « I think, » and momentum buoys the thought up before it smooths into an easy downward glide, « you are larger rocks for us than we are for you. » Solith's pleasure pleases Olveraeth, and sends a comet streaking through his skies-- a burst of light as bright as the sun, at least from this distance. « Even the tiniest pebble can lame a Queen, » he reminds his green charge, pleased with her thought. « Every one of us has a perspective that is worth considering. I am the teacher, but I am also the pupil. I always will be. » From Solith's point of view, that comet could be a sun like any other, a true falling star. It pleases her, too, but perhaps it's that energy that infuses her sudden, « How? » soon followed by, delighted, « I believe that when we train you how to fly. » Perhaps not how, but where? « Or how to flame? » Olveraeth's amused by that, and projects a suggestion of itty-bitty Solith overseeing his weyrling-worst efforts to do just that. « Not all education happens through formal lessons, » he adds, his wing twitching lightly over her. « Your questions give me things to think about. Things to consider. Is a dragon always correct because they are older, Solith? Or because they are gold or bronze? We all have something to offer. » « Or how to flame, » Solith agrees, and her envisioned flame is so huge, it could swallow up half the Bowl beneath them. Certainly it would take care of all that bothersome if play-worthy fog. Her, « Yes, » is even more tentative by comparison, her wings shivering, reacting to the twitching. « But there is 'correct' and then there is... » weight, solidity, what she doesn't realize is instinct telling her to believe. To believe him, too. It feels wrong, sometimes, when she doesn't. Olveraeth marvels over that flame, but it's Solith's answers, both verbal and non-verbal, that give him pause. « Yes, » he agrees, giving her a glimpse into the instinct that guides him, too: to obey and to answer, to see the hierarchy and to find his place in it. « But that doesn't mean we cannot consider. Consider, Solith. Wonder. It is never wrong to ask why, even if your whole being tells you that yes, it is right. Why is it right? Why is something else not? » His wing stills, though his head lifts: all the better to stare out over the darkening fog. Wonder. Solith wonders, but about matters that could contravene such as that? Could they? She isn't sure how. But she does say, a touch playfully, « I do not think your rider would like it if we asked why, why, why any more than we do already. » Asked why... or made pointed comments, in Telavi's case. There's nothing but affection in Olveraeth's tone for his rider, and yet? « My rider needs to remember that many matters need an answer more instructive than 'because I say so'. » He does not object to the questions - not Solith's, and not Telavi's, either. It meets with an answering glimmer of humor, dancing out over that fog. « Perhaps you will remind her, then. » Then Solith asks, daring, « What do you think my rider should remember? » « I frequently do. » It's affectionate, and with only the slightly amount of long-suffering humour (it's probably a good thing Olveraeth's memory is not good enough for him to remember exactly how often it is required). « Your rider should remember not to jump to conclusions, » he says, after a moment, though that's plainly stolen from his rider. « And she should open up. Relax. » But that's softer - so soft it's barely verbal, even mental-verbal. She likes affection, likes to see it between dragon and rider and back again, that's easy to see. « Like what? » This jumping! It's not interrogatory, it's just her memory's likely worse than his for most things, and besides, Olveraeth knows. Solith's soft for softness, too, less a question this time than a swirl in the air, a curl of wondering. To be fair, Olveraeth doesn't entirely remember what his rider is referring to, either: he's simply plucking thoughts from her head, riffling through her thoughts to come up with relevant information. « Something about Khadreonth's rider, » he comes up with, and oh, there's Nhidanth's rider, too, with one hand on her belly. « Something about that. « But she likes your rider. She likes that she's protective and fierce and strong. » Solith likes to hear that, it's even more palpable. « Oh! » She's shining. She lingers on it. Still, eventually, teasing, « But... what do you think? » But Olveraeth's thoughts, in this, are all tangled up in Quinlys'; he could separate them out, but why? Why would he do that? « I like you, and I like your questions. And because I like you, I like your rider, too. We are all connected, remember? » Solith huffs. And then she turns her head towards his shoulder, so she can huff where the grown dragon can really feel it, because even Solith can be full of hot air, sometimes. Not that she's displeased. It's only after a while that she wonders, « If you did not like one of the others, would you not like his rider, too? » Should she? « It would depend, » supposes Olveraeth (and no, he didn't miss that huff of air-- he seemed amused by it, but really, answering the green seems more interesting). « If I found a dragon I could not tolerate, I would certainly doubt his or her rider. I suspect. » It's all theoretical: it's simply never happened. « We all have something to contribute. All different. All beautiful. » It bemuses Solith. Not that she'd disagree, but perhaps this is influenced by her rider, « Sometimes it is more difficult to see. » On that point, Olveraeth can certainly agree. « Sometimes it is very difficult to see, » he'll even go so far as to say. « But it is there. Always. » He's sure of it - absolutely and unquestioningly. « Are you thinking of anyone in particular? » Call it... curiosity. He's sure of it. She likes to believe he's right. « No-o? » Solith's not exactly certain, but when has she really displayed particular distaste, and not just slipped right past the offenders? Aggression during play-battle doesn't count! « Good, » says Olveraeth. And it is good: isn't everything so much better when one doesn't have to search too hard to find their redeeming features? « Very good. » Solith settles into that praise, doesn't question it further, even if the tip of her tail might twitch once or twice along with the few tiny disturbances beneath the easy breeze of her thoughts. The light continues to change, and night is almost here. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Pebbles And Rocks"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 22 May 2013 18:20:19 GMT.
Wow. Dragons gettin' all philosophical, but then what would you expect from Olveraeth? And Solith is just kind of this... empty vessel. No, she's more like a perpetual machine that gets filled up with answers and just spews more questions. Her open nature really helped give Olly something to think about, and it was interesting. I'd like to think that certain things pertain to specific people or situations, but~ That would be presumptuous. :3
I like logs that give me stuff to mull over, after. ^^
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