Logs:Quiet Contemplation
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 April, 2015 |
| Who: Zadkiel, Schuyler |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Zad and Sky have a quiet moment in the galleries, contemplating what the recent events mean to the new clutch |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
 |
>---< Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr(#290RJs) >-----------------------<
Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of
carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground
-- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers,
and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from
falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into
the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off
some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even
feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.
The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire
cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the
expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is
easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a
broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels
that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks,
however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.
Commands: +list/eggs The galleries are a bit busier than usual, with everything that has been going on they have garnered a bit more attention. Sky is leaning against the railing. His right hand is swathed in a bandage and he peers out at the eggs, hands hanging over the edge. He looks a bit lost in thought. After a visit to the infirmary to get his bandages replaced, Zadkiel finds himself at the galleries again. His steps are ghost-quiet, his presence deliberately unobtrusive. His gaze slides across the collection of eggs on the sand before exploring the faces of those gathered. Mental notes are made and the man gradually approaches the edge of the galleries, where the railing supports the weight of a draped and bandaged other. He says nothing; rather, he makes his presence known only by claiming a section of railing nearby. Elbows on rail, shoulders rolled into a hunch, and eyes on the eggs. Schuyler looks over at the movement next to him. There's a nod to Zadkiel but the usually cheerful baker (now candidate, as can be noted by his crisp new knot) remains silent. He takes a moment to look over the bandages on the other candidate and finally looks away, back to the eggs. While he remains quiet, there are hushed whispers all around them, attention being paid to the two injured candidates. The weight of whispers is familiar enough to the Igenite. Zadkiel ignores it. His attention is keen on the scattering of the eggs, the placement of the dam; everything. His mouth eventually pulls to one side. Thoughtful. And, yet, not a word slips free. Surely the knot is noticed. Surely the bandages are made note of. But, what's there to say? The hunter-turned-Candidate just lifts his head, chin indicating one of the eggs with an inquisitive lift of one eyebrow meant for Schuyler. A wordless question, open for interpretation. >---< Dance of the Spirits Egg >---------------------------------------------< Gossamer, undulating ribbons of pale green weave across this petite egg's otherwise dark and shadowed shell. From a distance, that rippling curtain of luminous colour can give the impression of swaying, sinuous movement. Finer, more subtle details are only visible on closer inspection; the swathe of blackness that enfolds the egg is flecked by tiny, glittering white motes, and that ribbon of translucent colour ranges from a ghostly emerald to delicate jade. Inspiration: The aurora borealis/northern lights (that's considered a
landmark in Canada... kinda... right?).
>-------------------------------------------------------< Credits: Laine >---< Schuyler looks between Zadkiel and the eggs finally his gaze resting on the eggs again. Those eyes slowly scan each egg, pausing occasionally to take a longer look at one or another. Finally his eyes fall on the Dance of the Spirits egg, lingering before he looks to Zad, back to it and finally back to the other candidate, raising an eyebrow returning the unspoken question. There's a low, throaty sound for that. A shallow shake of his head. Zadkiel studies the indicated egg for a moment longer, but his gaze shifts inexorably onward. It lands, eventually, on Reaching With Futility, which yields another odd sound from the Igenite. That look is short-lived. So, his attention moves, again, only to land - at long last - on the gold egg. That one. Finally: "I wonder if they will hatch more quickly now." >---< Reaching With Futility Egg >-------------------------------------------< This egg is cleanly, horizontally divided in hue. The top is a sun-blasted blue that's darkest at the apex before it washes out towards bone-white at its natural equator. The lower half starts pale and stays that way, hewn in hues of desert sand. On one side, a grand human hand appears to be emerging out of the sandy lower half, its fingers stretched forever skyward - yet doomed to never touch the top. Inspiration: This egg is based on the "Hand of the Desert," located in the
Atacam Desert in Chile. And that's exactly what it is: a
giant hand in the middle of the desert. Odd? Definitely. But
pretty awesome, too!
>------------------------------------------------------< Credits: Ulyana >---< >---< Wisdom in Words Egg >--------------------------------------------------< Marbled in amber and dulled, ancient gold, and noticeably larger than its clutchmates, there is no mistaking this egg for what it is and what it carries. Tiny dark markings circumnavigate its broad curves, pressing ancient secrets into a shell that looks smooth from afar, neither garishly bright nor so subtle as to fade into the sands upon which it sits. That might seem to be the end of it; only intimate study, close enough to touch, might reveal the fine-grained pattern to be found beneath even that - as if the entire egg had been woven from tiny fibres, drawn together in a consummate whole. Inspiration: The Library of Alexandria, also known as the Great Library.
Long since destroyed, of course, but an ancient landmark
nonetheless.
>-------------------------------------------------------< Credits: K'del >---< Schuyler follows the gaze and nods at his choice in eggs and again on to the gold, contemplating. The silence broken, he shrugs. "Maybe..." a long pause as he contemplates the eggs. "I don't envy the girl who impresses that gold." is his final observation. "No." Zadkiel sucks his teeth thoughtfully. "This place is a cursed one for queens. I have heard the stories." His voice remains low-pitched, purely for his fellow Candidate. "In truth, I do not envy anyone that Impresses from this clutch." There are certain, subtle assertions there, things best left unsaid. He pushes back from the railing and casts a look to the gold egg again. Then, slowly, his gaze will touch each of the other eggs in turn and in silence. Schuyler drops back to wordlessness at the comment about his home being cursed for queens. It's not something he hasn't heard before but the comment has his jaw clenching, eyes misting slightly. He takes a long, deep breath and lets it out before looking back at Zadkiel. "So...why are you still standing?" it's not said with any malice, merely curiosity. The taller Candidate pivots on a heel and sets his stride to carry him out of the galleries - but not before he intones: "Because I was asked to." The utterance is underscored heavily with a weighty sense of duty, one too great for Zadkiel's words to possibly convey. "Regardless of what happens," he says as he makes his departure, "I will be going home." Schuyler nods. It's a reasonable explanation for why he's still standing to him. He watches as the other candidate gets up. "Not regardless...the deal says metallics stay." he looks out onto the sands. "And no one can predict who they will pick." but he falls silent again, letting the other young man leave, finally looking to that thought to be cursed golden egg. |
Comments
Alida (01:39, 9 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
High Reaches Weyr: Where goldriders go to die. >.<
Leave A Comment