Logs:Persie and N'thei at the Ice Lake
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| RL Date: 21 September, 2007 |
| Who: N'thei, Persie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 24, Month 7, Turn 13 (Interval 10) |
| Secath> Wyaeth senses that Secath's mental touch blows in like a single piece of confetti on some unfelt breeze, a colorless petal. And then another, turning pink and pale. The stream of floating pieces grows stronger, varied in hue, before her voice joins in. It's a little high and sharp, bolder in cadence than those petals might have suggested « Wyaeth, yes? We met. » A quick snapshot of Boll's beach follows. Secath senses that Wyaeth's voice in return is just as gritty, just as dusty and whiskeyed as his appearance would suggest; « Wyaeth, yes'm. I remember you. » His recollection, or perhaps just his imagery, of the chubby green on the sand is fuzzy, a sand-in-the-eyes vision. « Persie's your rider. » This particular bronze doesn't bother much about rider-names, evidently. Secath> I bespoke Wyaeth with « Yes. » The confetti hesitates in the air, though, as if caught for a moment in a conflicting breeze. « She wonders if... » There's another pause, the breeze dying so that everything falls slow and forgotten as she decides whether or not to follow suit. She elects not to call his rider by name. « If you are free to join us. We are going to the lake. » But the image that comes with that word is not the lake of Fort Weyr, but one high in mountains where the sun is bright and clear. « It's quite refreshing. » Secath senses that Wyaeth's all slow drawls and much-obligedness, patience hitched and waiting while Secath's frills and confetti color the dusty landscape of his mind. « I could sure go for some refreshment. And N'thei-- » A splash of warmth, like whiskey on an empty stomach. « We'll be there. » Ice Lake Shore A slope of green grass leads to the shore of a small but deep lake; on all other sides of the lake are peaks of rock upthrust some two dragonlengths from the water's surface. To the southwest a rough trail leads out towards Ruatha Hold. Easily muddied by overenthusiastic dragons, the grassy beach has room for only a few of Pern's protectors before becoming crowded. N'thei and Wyaeth evidently elected to land on the shore, out of the ice water, though as near to it as the slope of grass comes. They must have just landed themselves, with N'thei still mounted and stripping off gloves and coat before he hops groundwards. An attentive glance shoots skyward. The plump green appears in the sky, not looking -quite- so round with her wings unfurled and navigating the currents on her way to the shore. Yes, the shore. She sets down with a rumble for Wyaeth and a coy turn of her head. "Why would I know what he likes? You know more about bronzes than I do. He didn't seem to care much for you last time he saw you," Persie says to her lifemate, rolling her eyes. "Ok, yes, I suppose it was dark then." She pulls off her helmet, letting her blonde hair spill out. "Sorry I'm late," she calls to N'thei. "Well, you're still up on him, so I'm guessing I'm not -too- late." She slips down Secath's side. "I was about to leave and I got caught talking to this girl about how her boyfriend isn't paying attention to her and... Well, whatever." She gives her green's straps a tug, unfastening and dragging them from around her neck. So when Persie actually turns to properly face N'thei, she has an armful of leather and a rather goofy smile. "Hi." Whatever Wyaeth thinks of Secath is waylaid by his interest in this frosty water. He lumbers to the shore, swaggering gait bringing him right up to the water while N'thei starts in the opposite direction-- the one toward Persie and Secath. "You're not technically late, since we didn't technically have a time to meet." He flashes a winning smile to meet her goofy one; "I can't stay too long, but I couldn't exactly decline the invitation either. Besides. I come bearing gifts." As N'thei starts toward her, Persie cocks her head toward one of the large boulders nearby, holding a moment before her steps bring her in that direction. She barely has time to frown for the warning that he'll be leaving shortly before he goes talking about presents. Then her eyes get round. "You, my friend, have too many marks to spend," she teases him. "Oh that rhymed!" She repeats the line again, this time with a little melody. Her voice is rather good, if untrained, with a clear sweet tone. But she laughs brightly at the end and dumps Secath's straps on the rock. "What did you bring me?" she asks, looking over him now for any signs of this gift. "And why are you leaving? You just got here. You didn't have to come if you weren't free, you know." "There's not a lot I /have/ to do, but I wanted to come. Unfortunately, that leads in to what I do have to do, and that's a little work." But N'thei doesn't specify, only broadens his smile while he follows alongside the little greenrider, shortening his stride considerably so as not to plow on ahead of her. "Ah, and she sings. The very heart of my heart." For what he brought... he pulls a very long knitted scarf out of the pocket of his riding jacket, a garishly colored thing in stripes of lime green, obnoxiously bright pink, and super-purple. Secath gives up on the coy look, especially since there's no one to appreciate it. She ambles down to the water's edge until her front paws are in the shallows. « Will you be going in? » she asks. « I am. » And with that she lauches from the shore, beating her wings a few times before gliding out to deep parts and diving into the water. For now, with his straps still attached, Wyaeth stays at the edge where grass gives way to gravel that gives way to water. Those gunmetal gray talons are busy testing the soil, deep gouges there before he lifts his head to peer toward Secath. « Dunno. I get these straps wet, and there'll be hell to pay for it. Maybe I'll just watch a spell. » There. He finally starts paying mind to Secath. And Persie is easily confused by the having to do and wanting to do and work and leads to the... Her pale eyebrows get all squished inward and she shakes her head a little as he talks, clear indication that whatever he's saying, she's not following. And then the expression disappears and she beams at him. "I do. Well, I did. For about a minute. I... Oh!" Her jaw drops and her hands, now free, fly to the scarf. Very gimme. "Ooh. Where did -this- come from?" she asks giddily. Apparently, garish though it might be, she likes it. Secath resurface, snorting a spray of water from her nostrils and blinking back at the shore. « So have them off, » she tells him. It's simple enough. « The water'll feel better without them anyway. » She lifts her wings, letting rivulets glint and drip. « You know you want to. » N'thei suggests smilingly, "I made it myself?" But he shakes his head immediately after the words are free, denies the notion just after he makes it. "No, I saw a girl in the lower caverns making it, and I thought of you." May not be a compliment, considering the color composition? "It's a sort of none-too-subtle hopeful-- do you think you could call her off that? There's an extreme force of will involved in getting Wyaeth to do what /I/ want and not what /he/ wants." As if to prove his rider's point, Wyaeth wades right on in up to his haunches, gets the straps across his belly and chest soaked and likely ruined. « Ain't so cold as you'd think. Come up to the Reaches roundabout midwinter, I'll learn you from cold water. » Punctuated by a big splash from his tail in the shallows. He made it? Her brows go up higher as she gets her hands on the scarf and gives it a squeeze. Persie laughs as its true source is revealed. "And you thought of me?" she asks, wrapping the scarf around her neck. "What do you think? Does it suit me?" She strikes a pose, hands out, head turned to the side so that it's plain she's wrapped her hair into the coils about her neck, probably by accident. "Hopeful what? What?" Those are two different 'what's and the second has her turning toward the water. "Oh, well, I... You can't even stay long enough for him to have a quick swim?" Without answering his request, she just pouts a bit. « I might have to, » Secath says, plain flirtation in her sharp voice, making it rasp slightly. She ducks her head under just to lift it and toss more sparkling water into the air, a display for the bronze. She looks back at him. « You're nearly in already. You might as well join me. » The force of will extends as far as making N'thei's jaw twitch, his eyes close briefly. "I hate making straps," he confesses with an air of mounting tragedy. "Can't stay. I just wanted to give that to you, see you for a minute or two, just a little refresher sip." He leans down to try and catch her eyes, to try to smile at her little pout, all charmed by the look of it. "Cheer up. Now you have a scarf. You won't freeze when you come visiting the Reaches." And he starts shuffling steps backward toward the water. Wyaeth, in plain response, starts that much deeper into the water, almost shoulder-deep. « You're a bad influence, sweetheart. My reckoning's a-coming. » He loops a look over his watery shoulder toward N'thei's approach, a big snort toward his rider. « Haveta try another time. » His peek down is met by her peek upward and it works quite immediately to break that little pout into an irrepressible smile. "Refresher sip," she beams, particularly pleased by that turn of phrase. "I do have a scarf." So happy. And she wraps her hands in the dangling ends and starts after him. "See, you should have just taken the straps off. Just a few minutes to tack him up again instead of hours making new ones. You'll know for next time since she..." Persie frowns a little at her far off lifemate. "Controlling her isn't really something I'm all that... good at." She skips a step, trying not to jog to keep up with him. "Are you leaving now? Right now?" she asks, arriving at his side. Secath's confetti touch seems to flutter against him, tactile as if those petals were making contact with his neck. « I'm a terrible influence, » she agrees, sweetly, richly. « Next time. » But she won't let Wyaeth's apparent departure ruin her fun. In fact, she makes another display of loving the water, rolling to her side with a wing pointing to the sky. "Hey, we have something common there, dragons walking all over us. We'll have to compare notes some time. Has she lit anyone on fire yet?" N'thei's laugh is rueful but brief, eyes managing to maintain humor while they watch Persie hot-foot to keep up with him. "I am. Pretty much right now. But stay. Enjoy the scenery. We'll quid pro quo it-- Fort, Reaches, Fort, Reaches. Hm?" Wyaeth rumbles, the same kind of droll humor shared by his rider. « Least you're aware of it, terrible influence. » He shakes his neck free of the tickle of Secath's thoughts, all rangy muscles and dust-hide once he's back on shore, dripping water guiltily. "Well, she almost lit me on fire when we were weyrlings but she's been all right since then. It was her first time and everything..." Persie's brows give a little dip for that rueful laugh, but the expression is quick and gone. And then back. "Quid pro what?" But instead of looking for an answer, her hand reaches to take hold of his jacket-sleeve. N'thei smiles an answer to Persie's question, eyes dropped momentarily to the hand on his sleeve, which he covers just briefly with his own oversized mitt. "Glad she's come around since then. I'd be awfully disappointed if she roasted you just when we were getting to be friends." In an absent little betrayal of fashion-consciousness, he strays a hand to arrange a green-pink-purple fringe on Persie's shoulder. "I have to go." Persie's smile goes distinctly shy when his hand finds hers. If she had any intention when she took his sleeve, it seems lost and overwhelmed as her lashes drop. She looks up at him again as he arranges her fringe, her lip caught in her teeth. "Thank you. For the scarf. For visiting me. A longer one next time?" she asks, plainly hopeful. "Visit, I mean. Not the scarf." She beams at him. "The scarf is perfect." N'thei's easy; he obviously thinks the whole shy thing is cute, smiles an infatuated little smile with it for as long as he lingers, gives her hand a little squeeze before his hand withdraws, long fingers traced along the back of her hand. Then, he's grabbing a damply ruined strap; "A longer visit next time, hopefully without wrecking another set of straps. Thank you for the invitation. And thanks for the locale. It's--" Something. He hauls himself up to Wyaeth's neck. Persie steps back a few paces, giving Wyaeth room to launch. She's just grinning at N'thei, her big silly smile, and then waves the end of her scarf at him. "Clear skies," she calls. And in the water, Secath breaks from her swimming to bugle a goodbye of her own, propelling herself partially out of the water and then diving again. Wyaeth's a little more in to good-byes. He trumpets, not brassily but a prickly-sounding noise. With a heavy downsweep, he springs up, aloft, and is barely up to usable airspace before he's gone *between*. |
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