Logs:Ready
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| RL Date: 14 May, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, D'kan, Ilicaeth, Kazavoth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida and D'kan run into each other in a prime thinking place. They end up sharing those thoughts. |
| Where: Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 10, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Brisk and breezy |
| Mentions: N'gan/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions |
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Kazavoth, naturally a dark brown (in color if rarely temperament), would be rather hard to spot from farther away, save for those whirling eyes and the possible metallic flash of polished buckles that adorn his riding straps. He is not stealthy this evening, however, announcing himself politely to Ilicaeth shortly before he lands about a dragonlength away, wings momentarily adding to the night's breeze. D'kan soon dismounts, leaving his lifemate to hunker down on his spot on the rim while the weyrling finds a good perch somewhere between the two dragons. He offers Alida a genial nod but leaves the intrusions up to Kaz. Perhaps it's just a good night for honest perspective. « Good evening, Ilicaeth, » Kazavoth sends at first, mindvoice nearly pristine in its lack of colors, scents and sounds. How long will that uncluttered voice continue? Not long. The sensations that follow his greeting are muted and oddly introspective, sharing only the outlines and shadows with his clutchmate, laced through with the faintest tickling scent of juniper. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) It's Ilicaeth who first spots Kazavoth, of course - given the dragon senses are so much better then human ones - and the gritty blue raises his head from his observance of the Bowl below to offer a mellow warble to his sort-of-brother. The blue's own gaze remains heavily lidded, only crescents of green noticed beneath his lids...as if he's tired. With the sound from her lifemate reverberating through her body soon comes a silent announcement, Alida looking up to note where those other pair of dragon eyes are...Kazavoth's backwinging making it perfectly clear that he's coming down not at all far from the blue pair. Once everybody's arranged themselves decently, Alida actually manages to murmur just above the sound of the breeze, "Deke." Headbob. He examines the simplicity of the brown's mental tone with a certain base enjoyment, Ilicaeth's golden sands turned to a simple, fine, gritty dust at this time as they drift through the air in no particular direction. « Evening, Kazavoth. » The blue's nearly-baritone rasp is quite easy, the juniper of the other weyrling drawn in by mental nostrils, enjoyed. A hint of sagebrush is offered back. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) D'kan tugs the collar of his riding jacket so that it will flip up to better cover his neck, then he leans forward, elbows on knees, hands loosely folded. At this time of the evening, there is only so much a person could see from up here, but that doesn't seem to stop the brownrider from looking. At what, exactly, is unclear, though briefly it's to regard the glow-illuminated bluerider. Then Kazavoth shifts, drawing away the weyrling's attention. He only wanted to tuck his wings in just so, however, then very soon both weyrling and dragon are peering at the bowl far below, though it's hardly an intense look. The sage is most definitely enjoyed as Kazavoth draws it in, then amplifies it, infusing his voice with the juniper and sage, adding that pale green throughout before tiny tendrils of aromatic smoke drift through. « Are we intruding? My dear, confused rider wished to find a space where the air was clear. The higher the better. » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) Her own collar is popped, fastened up to protect Alida from the somewhat brisk night, and when motion comes, the woman's keen greens move to the shifting brown for a few moments, then back to the mostly-unlit scene far below. After some long, and peaceably silent moments trail into one another, there comes an alto, "What brings ya'..?" She doesn't sound irritated, harshed, or otherwise inclined to need to be alone... for once. As for Ilicaeth, he simply continues to peer downward, his senses noting so much more than the humans' can, while his lids slowly open, and show his deep green, gently whirling gaze. To the intensified, double-scents of juniper and sage, Ilicaeth impulsively adds a desert mindscape: succulents, a storm-moistened desert floor, and the first breaths of various blooms touching the warm air with promises of their wild colors. He's in quite a good mood, apparently. « Nah. » A deep inhale brings a faint curling of and odor to his nose. « Burnin' wood. » Snort. « Too bad humans never learned ta' make heat a better way. » Still, there's something he's only recently experienced to offer his brown brother, and he does so quite suddenly: the pungent, and unique odor of burning leaves. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) In the small amount of light coming from Alida's glows, there might be a brief expression of thankful serenity visible on D'kan's face as he settles in, huddled slightly against the chilled breeze. "It's easier to think up here sometimes," he says by way of answer, then turns away, momentarily looking down toward the bowl, but soon looking up and across, picking out the silhouette of the Weyr's caldera. Likely trying to avoid intruding on Alida's own quiet time up here, he stays still and quiet, though Kazavoth makes up for it for a few seconds, wings ruffling slightly in the wind before he finishes folding them just right, talons scraping against rock before he finds his own perch. Large eyes shine out in swirling patterns of deep blue and vivid green. The desert scents are absorbed the way Kazavoth absorbs everything he first encounters, as if he is taking a snapshot for study. The later scents of burning receive a flash of interest, returned in kind with the equally unique aroma of burning prairie grass, also recently acquired. The sharing is with that tentative curiosity, as if probing to see what the blue thinks of it. « Fire is beautiful, though, yes? » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) "Exactly..." Alida allows after D'kan's done reflecting on his reasons, the woman lifting her own eyes to the dark and cloudy sky above them, her head tilting back to rest against Ilicaeth's chest. More time for reflection prompts a low alto, "Guessin' you heard about last night..." What with all the draconic hub-bub that went on. "Any thoughts?" The slatey blue himself remains like a rock, except for the occasional flex of coppery claws upon rock, one of those echoing Kazavoth's. Burning grass...hmm. Ilicaeth's mind swirls grittily around that proffered scent, contrasting it with his former burning leaves, even as he takes in Kazavoth's more 'verbal' communication. With that burgeoning baritone, the blue notes, « Can be. » An echo of Hraedhyth's dangerous, yet also maternal fires is offered up on the slab, so-to-speak, as well as the wood fire scents of pine and other trees from the hearth within Alida's weyr. For a quite intense moment, there's also chill steel mixed with shouts and cries - fervid, chaotic burning - of warfare. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) A single slow nod is D'kan's initial answer, hands pressing together for a long moment as he continues to stare straight ahead of him. Then, after a deep breath, he glances over at Alida. "Guess it proves, whatever you know about people, there's always more you don't." It's an uncomfortably shared opinion, though for reasons he does not explain. "Not like I know any of them all that well, but--" He breaks off the comment with a quick shake of his head. "What about you?" The details of that warfare are lost on the brown, though the idea hits home as he shares a faint shadow of the emotions that swirled so recently among the Weyr's dragons, also very much chaotic. Hraedhyth's fires are contrasted by the steady light of a single candle, though that soon fades into the surrounding night's quiet. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) There's honest listening going on in her mind, Alida's head slowly lowering, then casting her gaze over towards where D'kan must rest...though she can't see much over Ilicaeth's forearms. His words make almost perfect sense to the guard, her pale head bobbing in subconscious agreement, a soft whoosh of let out breath soon followed by, "S'all kinds uv' fucked up. Still, truth's out, too." A small chewing at the inside of her lower lip presages a darkly ironic, "Lets ya know just what we c'n expect one we get outta weyrling stuff." Snork. "Power plays, division, political chicanery... An' here I thought the politics uv' the Guard was nasty." « Yeah... » I get it, the blue's sands eddy in answer to that shadow of chaos. « Even given how old they are... » Sudden images of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth are offered, the two queens shown on opposite sides of a line, both striking up warrior poses. « ... there's way too much history 'n bad blood in this place. » His home. ALL of their home. There's some small disgust, vague anger, and much more dissatisfaction. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Some of the truth," D'kan counters in a quiet tenor. He picks up one of the small pebbles that remain on the rim and rolls it from hand to hand, idly doing some low-key fidgeting. "I mean, if that's been hidden these past several Turns..." He lets the idea fade, its continuation unnecessary, especially as he nods in agreement with the bluerider's last couple comments. "Any time you have two people in one place, there's politics," he states, sounding mildly amused. "Add more people, more politics. With all that, though... still kind of looking forward to being let loose into it all, you know? Sink or swim." Agreement flows across the mindlink in a cascade, reflecting Kazavoth's heartfelt accord regarding the bad blood. « They might not know it yet, but they need us. » There is a small shred of self-satisfied smugness attached to the thought, glimmering like sunlight on pebbled ice. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) "Yeah... We really ain't got any idea, do we?" Alida snerts darkly to D'kan, the blonde apparently eager enough at this tabling of this subject to become more talkative than normal. "It's so... obvious, though. I mean..." there's a solid slam of one of her fists into opposite palm, the sound rather ominous, in its own fashion "...wham... Not only in the Weyr's face, but the Holders' too, I'd bet. Y'just gotta know that all that mock threadfall crap over Tillek 'n such ruffled a few feathers." As for being let loose into the fray, "Heck yes. Even if we wanted ta' do nothin' about it, at least we could suffer in peace, on our own." Smirk. « They're too busy, distracted ta' know it, right now. » Ilicaeth fires back to Kazavoth with a gust of faintly ochre sands, his rumbly-gritty laughter noted just within it. He too feels some kind of smugness, though it's felt more as a subterranean churning beneath parched desert sands. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Or contribute in some way," D'kan adds on the tail end of Alida's last. "In whatever way, really. That's the part that burns most of all. Being cut out." He pinches the pebble between the thumb and forefinger of both hands for a moment while thinking. Whatever the thoughts, what he shares is a rush of breath as he drops the pebble at his feet and leans back against a rock. "It's just so... so..." Whatever it is, he's not quite able to put it to words just yet. "It's going to be with us for a long time. The repercussions. The emotions." The churning is again absorbed, then echoed across the link in faint reply. « And if we remain focused while they remain distracted, » Kazavoth replies, a shred of barely contained glee dancing along the edges of his words. « Oh, the possibilities! » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) "Y'wanna' be a part... make yerself' a part uv things..." Alida clips off back to D'kan around a smile that's all for herself. "The Weyrlingmasters, overall, might think they're dealin' with a bunch uv' kids, but we know better." At least, for the more responsible parties bearing weyrling status, anyway. "It sucks herdbeast shit," the woman helpfully notes around a snert. "And fucking how..." is factored in over the repercussions. For a bit of extra emphasis to the current situation, Alida murmurs just loud enough to carry, "Think uv' the day when our class takes over the runnin' uv' this place. We got more sense t'gether than all uv' 'em." « Exactly, my brother... » Ilicaeth rumbles with more granite than grit this time, his sudden whorl of golden sand firmly, yet playfully butting the brown on one shoulder. « Who says a brown can't run a Weyr? Ain't me. » His sudden grin of fang teeth might be disturbing to enough humans, but the mimicking of his rider is very draconic, indeed. Bring 'em on! (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Don't know enough to butt in yet," D'kan says, glancing at Alida with a crooked grin. "But maybe someday." After her last statement, he laughs softly and looks away again. "Well... some of us do," he agrees in a low voice, though he doesn't name names. For a while after, he remains quiet, back to thinking his thoughts. Once again, most are kept to himself, but what he says next is a simple, "Have you been on many wing shadows yet? Sweeps?" Bit of a change in conversation. Maybe. « Only idiots would think such a thing, » Kazavoth answers, mindvoice full of steely conviction. « We would be fine if the humans did not interfere so much. » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) She's not usually one to miss when a person wants a change in conversation...though often Alida chooses to remain on the subject, anyway. This time, however, the woman bows out of their former talk almost gracefully, noting back to her fellow weyrling, "A couple shadows, one sweep. Catchin' some decent ideas from the former. 'Caeth likes the structure uv' the latter...unlike bein' at the Weyr, currently." Smirk, chortle. "You?" « All it takes is the right brown: motivated, canny, with a solid human behind 'em... » Ilicaeth notes in a solid, certain blast of sand that scours around the base of his granite monolith...which is now fist-shaped, lifting up towards the sky. « Learn the proper leadin' techniques, get experience under their belts... » The hopeful shade of Szadath stands in the past as the fire of youthful weyrlings - blue and brown - shoot past him. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Hah. Yeah," D'kan replies with a quiet bark of a laugh at the last. "At least it's somewhat predictable. Until the next landslide, anyway," he adds with a genial grin. "Shells, even the wings are doing their own thing half the time now. Or so it seems." He picks up the formerly abandoned pebble and goes back to his fidgeting. "This is what I mean, though. Can't do a sharding thing about any of it while we're still all sporting weyrling knots. Don't even have the shiny silvers to show, 'Oh look, we get to learn shiny stuff!' Though, honestly... Well." He bounces the pebble on one palm a couple times, then wraps his hand around it. "The judgement of our glorious leaders continues to shine, right?" « My dear Ilicaeth, I was born with leading techniques, » Kazavoth nearly purrs, that sun-gold glee continuing to dance before electric blue amusement joins the flowing swirls. « I will prove it someday. » Does he mean the leading part or the techniques? The image that follows would indicate some hazy version of an imagined green flight. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) A thin grin for being agreed with spread across Alida's features, her clear greens glinting some at D'kan's laughter, his words of further landslides. "Yep, so I've seen 'n heard. Sadly, I'm waitin' fer' literal rebellion right out in the open, now... though..." Ah, a slightly conspiratorial tone of voice sets the tone, now. "Though I've picked up a few whispers over the months that there could be some underground machinations takin' place." Beat. "You know how those bronzers c'n be." Cough. "Eh, fuck the bullshit shiny knot." It's utter dismissal from someone who's more versed in reality than many her age. "It's a carrot, Deke." Snert. "Learn by doin', and when ya can't, by observin', refinin' techniques." As far as the judgement of their leaders... Alida's low, wicked laughter - full of scathing darkness - speaks quite obviously. Just to put the sunny brown back into the 'proper' frame of mind, Ilicaeth scoffingly sands away his imagined green flight quite brutally, his sand grains full of quartz then reconstructing a gold flight. « Gotta' dream, leap big, son. » (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Never said I was chasing the silver thread," D'kan drawls in reply. "I just find it amusing and all too telling, that's all I meant. Like this Weyr's leaders have anything to teach right now beyond chaos and... well. Just look at Quielle and N'gan, right?" The gold flecks away like so much aged pyrite, returning to a gleaming green. « But the little greens are so pretty, do you not agree? » There is definitely amusement now that threatens to overpower his previous glee. « I have witnessed a couple who, when glowing, just might outshine one of our dear clutch mothers. Besides which, there is something... distasteful in pursuing one of them. » He's still so young. Remembers too much. It will surely fade. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) Ahh, N'gan and Quielle. That little bit of fuck up and douchiness inspire a twisted, wry expression to form upon Alida's lips, features, the blonde shaking her head and sighing. "I guess that kinda crap catches up with a group every so often. Dumb uv' Quielle ta' keep it at this time, 'n damned turd-shitty uv' N'gan ta' try 'n weasel 'is way outta' everything." Snert. "Once a Holder boy, always a Holder boy." Unspoken: privileged, uncaring bastard. Still, after some quiet moments spent thinking in this new direction, the blonde can't quite help but cautiously inquiring, "Whatcha' think uv' all this... stuff they're givin' us fer advice on how ta deal with Flights?" Yes, yes, greens are pretty and supposedly gleamy, too. Apparently Ilicaeth still doesn't get what all the urgency's about over glowly girls, but he understands that it does affect males, sometime. « Just remember; greens won't getcha' the prize I think yer' seekin', Kazavoth. » (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) D'kan can really only shrug as to the rest of the Quielle/N'gan saga, stating, "Out of our hands, at any rate. Maybe a little public shaming will help in the future, or something." When Alida moves on to the Flight Talks, the brownriding weyrling leans forward, elbows on knees, shoulders hunched as a blast of colder air whips around them before dying down again. "Figure they'd know," he answers at first, pausing a moment, then glancing over at Alida. "Figure everyone's different, too. What works. What doesn't. Nice to have some different plans in place, though, right? What about you? Had 'the talk' with one of the riders yet?" "Too little, too late..." Alida winds up commenting about the shamed pair, her shoulders lifting in silent agreement. "You'd hope so..." Alida comments of the Weyrlinmaster staff, greens rolling up to the heavens for a moment. "Yeah... guess so," the blonde murmurs of individualism, finally nodding once to D'kan, then tilting her gaze up to the bottom of Ilicaeth's steady, craggy chin above her. "So... 'r y'all...ready, then?" is inquired of the brownie, in a certain, guarded tone of voice. Careful. It takes a little longer for Ilicaeth to answer, this time, but not much. « Wingleader Kaz, then? » Rumble, chuff. « Not the big, shiny knot type, eh? » There's no judgement in there, just curiosity. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Ready?" D'kan asks before grinning over at the fellow weyrling. "Alida, are you asking me if I'm a virgin?" His white-toothed smile is evident even in the meagre light of Alida's glow baskets. "I figure in this sort of thing, best you can hope for is for folks to be educated. Sheltering a person would only hurt in the long run." « Titles are nothing, » Kazavoth responds, mindvoice fading to something quiet now, nearly devoid of anything but his words, « influence is everything. » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) She's suddenly very glad that it's dark out here, and that Ilicaeth is leaning down to suddenly whuffle at the top of his lifemate's pale head, for Alida colors just a hint at her cheeks, though she keeps a firm rein on herself. Finally, her low voice makes a grab at words, and they come out a little more gruff than the guard wanted. "Guess I am. Pardons if it bugs ya." Shrug. « Mostly agreed... » comes Ilicaeth's swirl of golden sands, skating across a parched desert floor. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Doesn't bug me," D'kan assures her, amused smile still firmly in place. "Few months ago it might have, but it's a natural enough question. Didn't mean to tease about it. Haven't had that particular talk yet, but I can gather what's been said just by what the rest of our class is clucking about." He tosses the pebble from hand to hand again, while Kazavoth finally stirs from his thinking spot, but only to peer only at the blue and his rider. "You think you're ready for all that?" the brownrider tosses back Alida's direction. The parched desert is morphed on Kazavoth's end of the link into a pebbled beach that reaches down to lapping waves at high tide. « Whispers are more influential than shouts. When the touch is subtle enough, they do not notice they are being guided. » (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) "Months ago?" Alida asks rather daftly, her voice barely restrained from squeaking as she echos D'kan. "You worked the docks, right?" For someone who's mostly on the ball, the guard can be quite a thick plank at other times, her thoughts falling into the realm of the stereotypical all too quickly. And then her fellow weyrling is continuing, and the blonde settles farther back into her blue's chest, his head finally lifting away from her again. Muttered out, "Are any uv' us really ready?" Snert. « They can be... » Ilicaeth allows. « Time 'n a place fer everything. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words... whispers. » Pebbles are converted to sand, then melted down by volcanoes to form granite. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "So I take it we're in the same boat," D'kan replies, voice quiet, tone light. "Don't worry. I won't tell." He drops the pebble to the side and sits up straighter. "Gotten close a few times, but..." He trails off, then shrugs. "Got one group of people saying it's no big deal. Another saying it's this super special thing. I just figure we have instinct for a reason, right? Feels right or it doesn't. Feels like something special or not. Like a big deal or just a thing people do." The granite is left right where it is as Kazavoth remains on his pebbled beach, mind expanding into the ever moving expanse of ocean's thought. (To Ilicaeth from Kazavoth) Fuck it! There's a true sheet of red skating over the woman's face when D'kan picks up on the truth, her head turning quickly away from him, as if to examine something that she just heard over that-a-way. Not a word is said to him, the blonde keeping strictly to herself, at this point in time. Ocean... Not quite his 'thing.' More Iesaryth's, really...and, of course, Kazavoth's. And then there's a sudden, if gruffly polite withdrawal, as Ilicaeth tends to something else that distracts him. (To Kazavoth from Ilicaeth) "Ahhh, shells. Sorry," D'kan mutters in Alida's general direction as he hunches down again, elbows back in place on knees as he folds his hands together. He leaves it at that, though there might be a quick look between the weyrling and his dragon, who shuffles his feet slightly, talons once again making dull scraping noises. "We should go. Really didn't mean to..." To do whatever it is he did. D'kan gets to his feet, already tugging riding gear into place. The brisk wind makes Kazavoth's wings flutter for a second as he shifts them, preparing. "Whatever..." Alida grumbles to the brownie, then finally looking over at D'kan when the noise of Kazavoth's claws starts up again. "Keep it to yerself'..." is noted darkly, on the heels of the male's 'didn't mean to,' the guard sounding twitchy, surly, perhaps even somewhat threatening as she picks up her quills. "Bye." "Said I would," D'kan assures simply, sending a last look in Alida's direction as he finishes fastening the top button of his jacket. He leaves the assurances there, however. Within seconds, he's mounted the waiting Kazavoth and clipped in like a good little weyrling. The brown sends a last fleeting farewell to Ilicaeth, then just as quickly as he wings away, his mindvoice fades from the link. |
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