Logs:Political Differences
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| RL Date: 21 July, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Night and Day. Change and Tradition. Brieli and Azaylia. The gold weyrlings finally talk about what's going on at High Reaches Weyr. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 4, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy. |
| Mentions: E'gin/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. The foggy dusk gives the bowl an odd sort of glow at the end of the day, leaving the air close and clammy and somehow intimate; it's harder to see farther away, harder for sound to travel. The Snowasis itself is as busy as usual in that time before and during dinner, and despite the lack of snow, the fog seems to be keeping most people inside. Brieli is the only one sitting at a table, cleaned up and changed after her day; short skirt instead of trousers, the sleeves of her new jacket pushed up. She leans on the tabletop, a glass in one hand, idly swirling the liquor in it as she stares out into the nothingness. The sound of dragon wings may be muffled but by now it's all too easy to recognize, the only warning when a bulky figure suddenly bursts into view, too close to the patio. With a few flaps the creature leaves nothing but swirling fog in it's wake, disappearing once again. Silence. And then it reappears, whirling eyes peering from pale crown as Hraedhyth manages to glide closer to the ledge. Azaylia is laughing when she jumps off, stumbling at the force of her landing before turning to wave to the queen that's already gone. Patched, pale blue dress swishes around her thighs, the familiar ensemble worn less now, though the black tights look to be stolen from her work clothes. "It's spring!" Officially. Freshly scrubbed face splits into a modest grin, all but skipping over to where her friend is. With her own wave for the warrior queen as she flies off, Brieli can't help but smile, despite having her reverie broken with quite a different mood. Wryly, "Wait till it snows out of nowhere again. Then we'll see." Even so, the weather's turned enough for her to take the risk of having long legs uncovered, high boots notwithstanding. Arching fine brows for the skipping, she raises her glass before taking a sip in honor of Azaylia. "Apparently, spring puts you in a good mood. Though I've yet to see what puts you in a bad one. Where were you two? Iesaryth's found a perch somewhere up there." A gesture to where the spires must be. "Don't jinx it." But even this is sung rather than said, pigtail tufts giving a final bounce as she stops by her friend. "I'm excited for Hraedhyth. She'll get to see what nice weather is like, soon." Or as nice as it gets at High Reaches. Azaylia's more daring, for once, though her legs are covered she's decided that her scarf will be enough to warm her, prized pin securing the white and blue knitted fabric. "We took a bath." She glances at one of the empty chairs, tugging it closer and lowering herself gently. Hraedhyth will find her Sister-gold even in this fog, and the two can enjoy surveying their land. Surveying their land, even if it's entirely covered in fog. Even so, Iesaryth is pleased to have company. Skeptical for jinxing anything, Brieli quirks a little smile. "I'm not jinxing anything, just echoing what I've heard from the lifers," she notes as Azaylia sits, tilting her glass back and forth, only a finger or so of liquid left in it. As for the bath; "Ah... I still find it a bit chilly, for all she doesn't mind it." Crossing her legs to swing one boot back and forth, "What have you been up to otherwise? Things have gotten so busy." A pause. "And odd. All at once. I'm sorry if I've been distracted." "I think the Dragonhealers will be relieved when the lake's warm enough." Azaylia sounds only a bit sheepish after months of her dragon's encouragement and reassurance. "Even then, Hraedhyth is awful used to warm baths." The transition may be a difficult one. There's a glance spared for the drink, though she doesn't seem too eager to get up and order her own. Instead arms are crossed on the table, one rising to catch her head as she looks toward Brieli. "Flying lessons. Weyrwoman lessons. Dancing, history, threadfall." She lists the lectures in one breath, eager to get it out and done with. "And the extra stuff." Which the other goldling is just as familiar with. "We've all been distracted. Things are strange these days." A soft laugh, "I was worried you'd be mad at me, if anything. It's seemed so long since we've been able to just sit and talk." Brieli looks at Azaylia oddly at the sheepish tone, asking, "How many are left going into the infirmary? And does she have to bathe in the lake, just because it's warmed up? I imagine we can still hop over to the springs, yes?" Seeming to catch the glance to her drink, she too looks at it for a moment before, "I'll probably get another one. If you want something. And yes." She sighs, perhaps a bit heavily after agreeing, and downs the rest of her drink. "Extra stuff. -- Please, I couldn't be all that upset with you, especially given everything. I just feel like I've been... paying less attention. Anyway. I hope you're feeling better with things more... settled." Her tone doesn't make things sound all that settled, but it's worth a shot. Azaylia blows at a persistent curl that has decided to fall into her face, watching it rise and fall before letting it be. "Hraedhyth's only just found out about the springs." And of course shared the knowledge with Iesaryth on that same day. "The infirmary is closer, and she likes it when I get in with her." Which may be the biggest complaint for the Dragonhealers. Hopefully strong wings and those hot pools will rid them of the golden pair. "If you get up," And only then, "I might want to try something different." Though not wine. The weyrling is quiet for a bit, head tilting against the knuckles that keep it propped up. "Me too, I guess. It's easier, not paying attention." The admission is a quiet one, not terribly proud. "I'm..." But then the young woman simply trails off, lips lightly pursed as she tries to find the appropriate words. A shrug, giving up for the moment. "Ah... I see." Brieli sets down her glass carefully on the table, and looks back out into the fog. "Well. It won't be long, no doubt. They're all over five months now, and things are getting tight in there." Though everyone has been saying that for some time, the weyrling herself included, and nothing's happened yet. She nods about the drink, though she doesn't rush to get up just yet, instead taking in some of the last moments of daylight, considering her words. Careful, as she tends to be sometimes, "It can be. Easier. Just not the best idea. It's just difficult. There's always other things to distract." Watching Azaylia, brows drawn together in concern, "You're... nothing? I'm not used to you being at a total loss for words." Can silence be optimistic? Perhaps if paired with Azaylia's faint smile and the lifting of her brows at the mention of their own weyrs. She's seemed to come around. Or perhaps it's that an uncomfortable, cramped Hraedhyth is not a happy dragon. "So many things." Another sigh of agreement, gaze trailing off to enjoy the foggy twilight. She's quick to reassure, "I'm not nothing. Worried, I guess." For lack of a larger vocabulary, though hers grows with each lesson. "Fine, but waiting for something else." Whether it's a good something or bad is not mentioned. "Apprehensive." She blurts, straightening up as it comes to her, looking relieved. Looks like she's taking something away from those classes after all. No less confused than before, but perhaps less concerned, Brieli seems at a loss for a moment - perhaps trying to follow Azaylia's words, what the other weyrling is trying to get at. Amused with herself briefly, "I don't know why I ever think I'm the only person with a lot on my mind." With a shake of her head, "What are you worried and apprehensive about? What shoe are you waiting to drop? Maybe there's something I can tell you. You never know." Her last isn't meant to be mysterious, but there's something about her that really can't help letting it sneak into her tone. Tapping the empty glass on the table, decisive, "Hold that thought. What do you want?" "Really?" Azaylia seems mildly surprised then, "I always think that I don't have nearly as many things to worry about as most." Not a surprise, the two often a contrast that ends up complimenting. Brieli's question has her lips parting, sitting up in her chair now as she looks about ready to say something. "I-ah." Switching gears without too much stalling, there's a nod of her head, "Something I haven't tried before. Something sweet." Not one to make things overly difficult, especially for a friend. "If you can't think of anything, rum and juice is fine." She'll have scooted into the table by the time Brieli returns, elbows back up with her fingers entwined though she doesn't set her chin on them. "I talked to E'gin the other day." Thought held, and then released. "What you have to worry about and what I have to worry about is different, but it causes the same amount of worry, yes?" Brieli arches those brows at Azaylia questioningly as she rises, and heads inside. "I'll ask them to think of something," she says over her shoulder, heading down the steps. It doesn't take her all that long to return - the benefits of being a hot girl not afraid to shout down a tender at the bar - carrying what looks to be a double or triple of her customary rum, and a drink in a tall glass that she sets before the other weyrling. It looks like a sunrise! As she sits, as the other girl speaks, she looks interested. "And... ?" She'll have a sip from her glass, just in case. There's an absent stretch in her direction, the bronze yawning and yawning though those gusts are just ghosts, reaching her far less than does the hearth's warm firelight and the talk of men. Also, the smell of stew, but that can't be helped. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) There's truth in her friend's words, and Azaylia will say as much while Brieli is still there. The return is quick, brown eyes widening at the tall glass with such bright sunshiney hues. "Ooh. Thank you." Tugging it close the woman gives it a subtle sniff, so much like her dragon in that moment. A tentative sip turns into a gulp as she's prompted to continue,"And- ohthat'sgood. He told me about his meeting with Iolene." As tasty as the drink is, she waits to have any more. "She's changing... well maybe not everything." It might as well be, as far as she's concerned. A breath, perhaps subtly knowing that she may be alone in her opinion, "It doesn't sound right, the way I heard it. She's trying to change how things are done- how they've been done." Doe eyes continue to carry that apprehension, peeking up at Brieli even as she takes another drink. Tonight's tide creeps out towards that image of warmth, even as the air above Iesaryth's waves is dense and close and hazy with the fog across High Reaches. She is not cold, but not warm either - high above, amongst the spires with her warrior sister, observing what they can of their Weyr. Taking care not to drift spring night's cool air his way, she echoes the talk with some of her own - women, though, far below - obviously. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Talk, talk, so much talk, but it has its own slight ebbs and flows and eddies that Vhaeryth fancies might be a little like hers, and possibly the odd whirlpool... perhaps? The fire doesn't seem to have it; it only goes crackle, crackle, crackle, and occasionally pop. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) With a slight smile, pleased that the other weyrling is at least pleased with the drink, Brieli sobers a touch as Azaylia begins to explain. Leaning forward to set her drink down, she first pushes the sleeves of her jacket down very deliberately, careful to shake out the cuffs. As she does, as careful as always, "I've spoken to Iolene about her ideas before. She has a unique perspective on the way things are done that shouldn't be dismissed. And... isn't an Interval a time for change?" Flickering a glance up her way, crossing her legs, she'll lean on the table again, folding hands in front of her. "I'm not sure what she'll change, at this point. But she wants to make changes so no tyrant can take the Weyr for their own and do as they will. Is that a bad idea? I can't say that I necessarily think it is. What does it hurt to discuss it?" Above, there is only the wind and her sister's occasional growling; less interesting to her than the conversation, which does flow in ways like Iesaryth's waters - she's delighted with the comparison. This stream though... she shows dams and canals quickly and carefully built, trying to guide to the desired location - or away from others. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Azaylia shakes her head, though her words seem to counteract the motion. "No, no. I never said it was a completely bad idea. E'gin seems to think that Wingleaders are enough, but I would like each color to be represented." Though her face scrunches, "I mean, only if it doesn't cause a rift between dragon types." Given that there is a subtle amount of that in day to day life. Brieli's lean doesn't have her easing back, instead welcoming her into such personal space. "She wants to get rid of the Weyrleaders." This has her lips tugged into a frown as delicate and unsure as her most nervous smile. "Iolene wants to do things that not even T-" Her quiet words taper off in an exhale, before she tries again. "That... not even a tyrant would try." Now she pulls away, sitting up in her chair a bit more and bringing her glass with her. "I'm not scared of it being talked about." At least, not terribly. "I'm more worried about all the doing she's... uhm, doing." Elequent as always. Construction! Poor Iesaryth: Vhaeryth's fascinated, if in a lounging sort of way, sweeping out one big paw as though that would let him peek at them more closely: do they only channel the water? Do they change the water? Where do they go (or stay away from), and why? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) "I don't entirely recall all the details, but I think there was something she said - as some point - about wanting the colors represented. But--" Brieli offers a trace of a smirk here, "I can see more thinking like E'gin than like you. People aren't terribly interested in fairness, they're interested in maintaining power. Which is why people should be impressed that Iolene wants to do this at all." Taking up her glass, she starts to take another drink, but Azaylia's words stop her, and her dark eyes go a touch flinty at that particular comparison; dead serious, "She would never try to do that because she would never willingly give up her position. This is different. This is about... justice." Glancing over her friend's way, arching a brow, "If Tiriana hated you like that, would you want to work with her handpicked staff?" "I'm interested in fairness. It's important." Azaylia murmurs into her drink, tilting it to watch the sunrise hues melt into themselves, mixing. "It's good that Iolene wants to take responsibility. I don't know if I could be that brave." There's an unspoken "but" that remains as such, eyes lifting to give Brieli her full attention. The focus she finds, sharp and serious has her own dark gaze widening the appropriate amount. A touch. Careful, scared almost she mumbles, "It's one person deciding to do things their way. She's not asking- I mean, I don't know if K'del's talked to her by now. The Weyrleaders are supposed to work together for the good of the weyr. Our home." She shakes her head at the mention of Tiriana's staff, "It's not even that, anymore. That's her right as Weyrwoman, I know that now." Though Iesaryth will appear put upon, there's something that seems to appreciate the distraction; some low-grade worrylike irritation runs under the rhythm of waves. Swatting the paw away - don't wreck it! - she shows him how they channel the water from one place to the other, sometimes slow it to a trickle, sometimes make it flow in a torrent. And away from places that cause problems, of course - to make life easier. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Gently, perhaps apologetic, "I know you are. I know that's what you'd like, for things to be fair. But I don't know that they ever have been." There's another swallow of rum for that, before Brieli puts her drink aside, trying not to look at Azaylia - or look too frightening. "I'm sorry - I just... I really do believe some of this. And..." She tries very hard to keep her tone even, but her jaw sets as she adds, "K'del won't talk to her about it, she says. They are supposed to work together. And he's supposed to care about her too, but app--" Stop. She exhales heavily and shakes her head, telling herself more than the other goldrider, "I don't know what's happening between them, but he's not talking any more than she is." After a moment, she tucks loose curls behind her ears, trying on a smile. "It is our home. I don't want us to just do things because we've always done them, and run to ruin in an Interval. That said... Nothing has to happen tomorrow." That faint irritation, it develops a moment's pearlescence, though if pressed Vhaeryth couldn't explain exactly why... but it's quickly diverted, what with that swatting and all, as though his train of thought were one of her canals as well. Likely he doesn't know the difference between salt and fresh water, for as the viewpoint draws closer in, there begin to be perceived some green bush-like trees that wilt dramatically as the water abandons them. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Maybe Iesaryth is learning - or maybe Vhaeryth is just that easily distracted. She's fascinated by the shininess of that irritation for a moment, but her attention is quickly drawn back to her example; it's still in progress, running down hills and into pools that divert into long canals, aqueducts, even. Even if she's not quite sure what those are. For dramatic wilting, « Some words need to die. » Ruthless. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) "K'del does care about her." That bit in particular is snatched from the conversation, Azaylia sounding about as heated as she can. Which isn't scalding, but there's something solid to her words. "He's scared. I would be scared. I am scared. One bad Weyrwoman doesn't mean everything should be completely thrown away." As terrifying as Tiriana was, and she's ready to admit to that if she needs to. With Brieli's heavy exhale, she takes the time to fill her mouth with the stingingly sweet beverage and swallow. Once more, before speaking in her usually soft tone. "They need to talk. I don't think it's especially anyone's fault that they aren't." Azaylia makes herself clear, voice once again timid. "It might not even work. Even if Iolene manages to get what she wants," Whatever that might be, now. "The dragons- Hraedhyth, will still only look to one Queen. Ysavaeth will always be in charge, even if there's a council of riders. It's how it is." Not defeated, no. Perhaps even finding comfort in her last words. It's how it's always been. « Like what? » Vhaeryth promptly inquires, just too far on the lazy end of things to be an outright demand. Even if that might resuscitate them. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) "Okay..." Brieli offers a slight smile for that, even leans back as she takes her glass with her. She'll give Azaylia that; sure he cares about her. But something about that smile doesn't quite reach dark eyes; there's something about it that she doesn't believe. Calm again, starting to slide back into her more detached self, "I can understand being scared, but I don't know that it needs to be... scary. It's not throwing things away because of one bad Weyrwoman. It's changing things because the fact that either of us could have been Weyrwoman is ridiculous. Iolene isn't trained. If things were different, capable people would be in charge. That's all." After a slow sip, over her glass, "That's what they say. I wonder what the dragonhealers say, technically. And I wonder if the dragons would look to whoever the Queen tells them to in a Fall." For a holdbred girl, she's become a radical rather easily. "But you're right. That may never change." In an extreme example: there's a darkened, foggy place in the High Reaches bowl. Iesaryth's rider sits with Hraedhyth's; they argue over the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. (Why? Who knows.) In one moment, Azaylia says, "K'del does care about her." And Brieli responds harshly, without pause, "Bullshit." In another, the same plays out, sharper, realer; this time, Bri merely leans back, offers easily, "Okay..." (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) That frown makes another appearance, though brief, able to fight her lips back into a peaceful line. Quiet, even harder to hear than before, "I would have tried to be a good Weyrwoman." It's not so ridiculous to Azaylia, both hands gripping the drink she's set on one thigh. "You would have been even better." Confidence in her friend is murmured, voice still not overly revealing. It continues, "Doesn't matter what they say. I know how Hraedhyth feels." Only her dragon, so she doesn't try to argue that point either. With a slow inhale, her brow wrinkles in what could be confusion as the weyrling finally lifts her head. "If that doesn't change, if Ysavaeth is in charge no matter what, then it wouldn't be fair." An important matter that she's mentioned before. "It's not that we wouldn't have tried - it's that... it's that there are people who know better. Or people to better advise, even. If it's just a matter of whose dragon rose last and which dragon caught, then it has nothing to do with merit, just with..." Brieli trails off, looking around, up into the bowl. "Tradition with no thought behind it, I suppose." Crossing her legs, swirling her drink, she asks Azaylia, "What wouldn't be fair? That Iolene would choose to give up some of the power that she has because of Ysavaeth? I think... Well. What wouldn't be fair?" She's honestly curious. Set on such a perch, Vhaeryth's for once silent enough to have been atop a cliff, his eyes whirling perceptibly more quickly now. He doesn't even test the sound barrier, just looks at them intently, overlays them... for what he sees, however less prosaic, is the arch of warm yellow light against stone, clear and sharp, and a man walking along it that becomes two versions of himself, one snagging a bottle off his ledge to bring back to the table, the other first drawing aside the curtain, looking out into the night. Transparent. Possibilities. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Azaylia likely won't comfort Brieli with what she says next, "The dragons know. Even if we don't." Faith audible in those words dwindles for ones that aren't her own. She'll admit as much. "E'gin says they can sense potential." She doesn't seem eager to toss his opinion aside, at least. Surprised though she may seem, the weyrling gains what little strength her voice normally carries. "I don't think it's just Tradition. It's what works." A sip, however quick to add in, "Not that it's perfect." No claims to that, but what is in their world? Brieli's curiosity is a welcomed relief, attempting a smile for a chance to explain rather than argue. Not that she even realizes that's what she's doing. "But what if she can't give up her power? If Ysavaeth is still seen as the Senior Queen by dragons, like she is now... Changing things won't change anything." If that makes sense. "Except but make a lot of people angry. ...Angrier." The rest of her drink disappears in a silent but somewhat needy gulp. Sensing that increased awareness, Iesaryth resettles on her own perch, her sun-water wings rustling as the idea of elsewhere starts to make her restless, even so high above. She'll watch those two possibilities, still and silent as well - perhaps more interested in this, more grateful for the fact that it hasn't yet happened, might happen. She'll share emotions too, in the silence; a sharpening edge of frustration, that line of worry that matches the gold's, constant. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Tilting her head, "Mm. And if you follow that line of logic, they sense 'potential for leadership', which means traditionally, only three colors actually have leadership potential. Does that make sense? No. But that's 'the way it is'." Brieli quirks a little smile for Azaylia's words, asking, "What if something else works better? And..." She considers, looking a little bemused before pointing out, "If there's a council, and a decision is made and the Senior Queen tells the dragons... then it still works. It just requires the same faith in the system everyone..." She trails off again before just shaking her head and sighing. "I don't understand how giving people more say in their lives could make them angrier. Maybe y--" There's a blink and she eyes the drink in hand as if it had bit her. She finishes it, but pushes the glass aside carefully and her chair back. "Maybe everyone really would rather think greenriders can't lead because they can't last a Fall. But that seems short-sighted to me." A pause. "I ought to go get some work done. And I think I've had too much to drink." This place is not without worry, though it's less constant: pushes and pulls instead, more alternating with fewer, here and there, to and fro, coasting in between. As she watches, neither image truly disappears, but rather the point of view begins to follow the one looking outside, even as he too takes the same bottle... no, a pair of them now... and walks back inside, the other fallen away. So does the first, come to that, because due to the genius that is a twisty dragon neck, Vhaeryth can stay lounging and turn upside down at the same time. The vision finds the hearth and rises, rises, as though walking on the vertical wall, past carved-in shelves and drawers to either side, the mantel coming into view and then disappearing after the rest, bare stone now, stone and shadows with bricks wedged in here and there, more shadows... ceiling. Look, a ceiling. Or a floor, depending. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) There is nothing Iesaryth can show but fog and fog and more fog, though there is a wistful thread for such a warm place, well-appointed with a hearth, even if upside-down. She'll offer up a sad image of an empty barracks but for her and cranky Hraedhyth and possibly-crankier Brieli. It's not even worth the care or attention he's put into his; it's barely a sketch. She's about to take flight - below, there's her rider ready to go back there, how depressing. She'll take another moment to examine the bronze's home with interest, poking around the shelves, before she'll send the rush of mountain air under her wings, still cold. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) "Only golds can do what they do." Though there's a lingering uncertainty that's likely tied to Hraedhyth and the ability to inflict her will on others. Eep. "I meant if the Senior Queen doesn't like the council's decisions... who would make her? It's the same problem then... isn't it?" Uncertain in even her own words, Azaylia falls back into silence. Brieli's sudden stop has her blinking as well, though she doesn't make any attempt to speak. Worry continues to crease her brow, even more so as her friend slides her chair back. "I don't think..?" Opinion on greens and their riders is saved for another day. Or possibly forgotten. "O-okay. Uhm. I'm going to the barracks," She stands, wiping her hands on the front of her dress' skirt. Concern for how much Brieli's had to drink overrides all that they've spoken of. "If you want to walk with me. I understand if you want to, uhm, work alone now." Whatever the answer, Azaylia intends to get her own hidework done sprawled atop her cot until the night exhausts her enough for sleep. Shaking her head, "No. No, let's go back. We'll just leave it alone for now." With what's meant to be a reassuring smile, Brieli tells Azaylia, "I'm okay, really." Standing up, she can walk perfectly well on the way back, though she is quiet, wrapping her coat around herself. In the end, she probably doesn't get a lot of work done, but hey. It's not like the barracks are loud anymore, right? Ahahahaha. *cries* That fog starts clogging up Vhaeryth's quarters until the young bronze thinks to blow it off, a puff of invisible wind that has possibly-N'rov needlessly poking at his own hair. « Why? » Vhaeryth asks in words this time, adding on, « Is it all yours, to do what you wish? » His N'rov has heard that High Reaches has many, many queens. Perhaps this is Iesaryth's own weyr now, spacious enough to contain multitudes. His own is mostly free of items on the shelves: a little dust maybe, a few buckles and what looks to be a miniature cowbell, a painted palm-sized picture too dim to make out, a plain wooden egg with scratches on its tip and base. All of them except the picture wobble gratifyingly through all the poking, only to shiver with the cold. Even the dust. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Even if the bronze can blow the fog off, Iesaryth is still surrounded in it - so is Brieli, on her way across the bowl with Hraedhyth's, now awkward. « We are four. » Which she does not think is so many, not so many as seven, say. Sadly, « It is not. I do not know why... something about people being 'busy'. » These are not conversations that she pays much mind to, but for the end result. Pleased with the reactions, she is always most interested in that which is different - but her time with her rider has made her aware of places not to pry; she seems to have that sense with the picture. Amused at the shiver, « It will be warmer soon. » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) « Not so many as many, » Vhaeryth agrees, a little sleepily again. Busy. Well, and: « Perhaps you need not wait for them, » those other people, perhaps she might take the ledge she likes for herself. Why not, after all? Only it turns out that 'a little sleepily' is really 'a great deal sleepily despite having ignored tiredness for all this time,' and he drifts off onto a foggy couch. But here at least, if nowhere else, it's still warm. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) To Vhaeryth, Iesaryth likes that idea. Even if she's not all that quick anymore either, and has moved to a warmer place, perhaps that is worth more thought the next day. For if she did it, no one could really say anything about it. And if she's not entirely sleepy yet, the tide will still slide out so as not to disturb him, ocean's roar withdrawing till it's a whisper, somewhere distant for the rest of the night. |
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