Logs:Ready, Aim, Water!
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| RL Date: 21 April, 2015 |
| Who: Ilicaeth, Irianke, Laine |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Laine and Irianke chat while Ilicaeth teaches Lifreyth some new tricks. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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>---< Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) >-------------------------------<
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but
here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening
and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions
to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides
warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced
off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water
there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows
drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge
undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be
bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge
divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky
outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one
-- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly
tempting stairs.
The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across
the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to
make for a fine day.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 37 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 0s
Laine F 17 5'4" trim, dark hair, grey eyes 24s
---------------------------------< Objects >--------------------------------
[Lifreyth], [Roszadyth], and [Rhiviyth]
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Diving Cliff Lake Bowl Far End of Lake
>--------------------------------------< 6D 8M 37T I10, summer afternoon >---< For a nine-day-old dragonet, the lake shore provides a delirious array of sights, smells--and tastes, apparently, judging by a lanky pinstriped brown who has left several rocks in his wake with long, wet tongue-smears. His weyrling companion, her thick hair spiked in every direction and looking a little worse for wear (although no moreso than any of her fellow clutchmates) is settled nearby in the curve of a boulder. Although there's a pen in one hand and a length of hide spread on her knee, she's got eyes only for that brown, watching his meandering path as it moves in ever-wider circles around her. From the skies, a marigold hued dragon swoops down, her wide wings sending a whooshing gust across the waters in her full stop just at the lake's edge. Nine-days-freed from the Sands, Niahvth soars when it should only take a hop, swoops when it could take a trundle, and flies when she could just walk over. Letting off a pleased whooping rumble, the gold then splashes into the lake. Her rider is just a speck halfway across the bowl. That little brown's orbit around Laine halts when a winged shadow is spied, sweeping across stone and beach. Lifreyth's head swivels to follow the path of the shadow with intently-whirling eyes. Imagine his surprise when that shadow creates a great turbulence in the water! And produces his dam, right at the lake side! He's delighted by this magic trick, breezing a puff of dusty sunbeams toward Niahvth as he begins to pick his way toward her, the very tips of his wings fluttering. For Laine's part, there's a raised-chin glance 'round the immediate area, but for now she just settles back into her rocky seat. Pretending that she is just noticing her progeny now, after the neat trick she's played, Niahvth looks back at the shore not too far away and rumbles a greeting that then turns into bubbles when her head submerges. They race towards the area Lifreyth is in and in his thoughts a shower of petals greets his dust-laden sunbeams. The gold's rider, dressed to milk those last days of summer to the max, and for the messy task of oiling a dragon, finally ambles across that final crest of the bowl onto the rocky and sandy shores of High Reaches' lake. Slung over her shoulder is a satchel and swung jauntily from one hand is a small pail of sealed oil. Lean Lifreyth is just nearing the water's edge when the bubbles start, produced by Niahvth in the shallows, and the brown is enchanted anew. He warbles a bright salute as he wades in up to his belly. As a bubble pops right in front of his nose, the brown's wings spring open; his mind is the fluttering of pages opened to a breeze and bulbs crackling to life with yellow light. Settling back on his haunches, he experimentally drags his wings through the water, sending wavelets to lap at Niahvth. As for his rider, when Irianke makes her appearance, Laine self-consciously flattens her hair, straightening her seat (although not making any attempt to rise), and offers a hand lifted as greeting. Pleased with his curiosity, Niahvth catches his waves in the curve of one wing, halting its progress and then sends it back gently. Instead of waves, the water rolls before climbing up along the rocky sand. "Weyrling." A moment, that has Irianke dropping her oiling supples to the ground and settling onto a boulder near Laine, is followed by, "Laine, right? The tanner apprentice." Certain confidence commingles with a questioning lilt, politely requesting verification even so. Summer is a time of opulence of many sorts, and not even adult dragons are necessarily immune from the sunny mood that the season of plenty inspires. One blue dragon, broad and granite-like, circles languidly just above the Weyr's seven spires, enjoying the freedom of the air and the sights all around him...until a glint of bright sunlight off those wavelets catches his eyes. Oh, hey; look! There's one of the kids down there...and his dam. Hmm...shrug. Lower, lower the greyed-out blue swirls, his eyes a bright and rapidly-spinning azure...lower and lower... until his shadow blots out the sun at points when his frame gets between the landbound and Rukbat. AROOOO-gah! Arooooo-GAH! Dive-Dive-Dive! About 100 feet above the lake, Ilicaeth arrows in for a neat, diving plunge, his wings tucked back tight, eyes double-lidded. SPLASHDOWN! BLOOSH! The true waves generated by Ilicaeth might rival some of those whitecaps tossed about by the tide on larger oceans. "Former tanner apprentice," Laine lifts her gaze away from Lifreyth, finally, to swing grey eyes (dark circles and all) around to Irianke. There's a smile, almost rueful. "Got the letter yesterday." Of congratulations, and, well, demotion. "But. Yes. Still Laine." But she pats at herself as though she's not even certain of that. Her eyes go back to Lifreyth, who's crouching, now, to allow that rolling water to wash over his chestnut headknobs and try out a few bubbles of his own. Then: hey! There's another shadow. Does Niahvth see that? It's--oh, this shadow is less friendly. This one's making waves! He warbles again with that gleeful greeting. When whitecaps surround her, Niahvth lets out a startled, displeased sound and looks about to find where that other shadow disappeared to. It distracts the dam from playing with her son, though her whirling turn to seek out Ilicaeth inadvertently creates more waves for Lifreyth. Her rider, about to speak, finds her words turning into silence as she catches sight of the blue first and then the splash down, her voice contorting into a wince. "Oh dear." Beat. "You really don't have to yell in my head, darling." A look of apology shoots to Laine as she deals with her dragon aloud for Laine's benefit. "I'm quite sure Lifreyth can handle himself even this young." Less friendly? Shells, no! Ilicaeth is all jocular greetings, the blue splashing to the surface in an excess of gaiety, his wings partially extended, forelimbs paddling animatedly while hindlimbs do the same...but out of sight beneath the water. His own, answering warble is just as bright as his motions, though kept to a volume that does't make ears bleed, thank Faranth, and is offered primarily to Lifreyth, though Niahvth gets a portion of it, as well. « Hey, kid! » is rumbled in bright baritone to the wee brownling, the blue's presence full of hot golden sands rife with mica, the parched heat of Igen's interior...and an excess of his rougher type of humor. For displeased Niahvth, there's a genial, though slightly more controlled, « Pardons, Niahvth... » But really; come *on*. Nobody's drowning, so let's have a good time! Though he braces himself against those waves with wings akimbo, four-and-a-half-foot-tall-Lifreyth is simply no match for them. There's no fear in the way the young brown topples backward: only more of those lightbulbs popping to life over dusty leather-bound books, filaments flaring, and a low electric hum that almost sounds like laughter. He rights himself with a neat flip and crouches again in the water, chin-deep now, his haunches wriggling. He almost looks ready to venture out into the water, the intrepid explorer that he is. And there's a laugh from Laine, too, and a breezy handwave. "Handles himself better than me, most the time. Careful, love," her voice raises to call to the brown, "Not too deep." Lifreyth sniffs, hunkering. Spoilsport! "Has she started mentally tucking them in at night yet?" asks Irianke of Laine. "She usually gives them time to breathe and settle in before checking in on them at night. She," the gold's rider turns to survey her still ruffled dragon with a brief, fondly exasperated smile, "Was born to be a mother." Literally in the, that's what golds do sense, but also on a deeper level as implied by the weyrwoman's tone. In the late afternoon sun, Irianke strips off the flimsy cover and sinks back onto the boulder in the equivalent of a bikini. "I'm going to miss this sunshine when winter comes again." If it sounds like laughter to him, then Ilicaeth's all in! He's been quite low of late, given all the terrible happenings at 'Reaches, and this moment of boyish exhuberence is just the thing to make the blue feel better. Making (mostly) sure to not piss-off Niahvth too much more, but not being a bore, Ilciaeth slows his swimming strokes, makes them less animated as he moves in towards the gold and little brown. Along the way, he ducks his head below the water's surface on occasion, rumbling deeply until not only bubbles form, but the actual surface of the water jumps and vibrates...much like a crocodile produces when it sounds off. About 25 feet from the pair, his head re-emerges, and a small jet of water is spat out towards Lifreyth, looking to tag him in a harmless sort of water-gun battle. Rumble! Laine's got a funny expression for that question, a puzzled sort of half-grin. "No." Then: "Not yet." She says it like she's making note of it, maybe passing that information on to that brown dragonet who would be only too happy to add it to his tally of Things To Keep An Eye Out For. The weyrling smoothes that hide (still blank) against her knee, again, then tilts her head back, eyes closed, to soak in that sun. Plaintively: "Don't say it. It's going to be summer for ever." There's a peeked look down at the water. Less plaintive, quieter: "He's going to be little for ever." The dragonet in question is busy scampering up and down the shore, wading in as deep as he can go while still touching with his back feet, paddling with is front. When that spout of water splats on his head, he snorts, shakes his head. It takes a few tries, but he manages to fountain back a stream of his own: and once he's discovered this newfound power, no dragon is safe, not even his dam. "Not tired yet?" asks the woman who was a weyrling ever so long ago, her warm voice laden with empathetic sympathy. "The first month really is the best, when they're still small enough to waddle into the living cavern after you when you absolutely need to eat something and they don't want to be apart. Then they turn into," Irianke waves at the lake, not needing to look to see Niahvth basically doing the equivalent of a dragon's sulk at her play time being interrupted by someone who is able to do more fun things than she is willing to go. She's about to venture to deeper waters to actually bathe herself when not being safe takes on a whole new meaning and she shakes her large head and blinks her multi-faceted eyes as a stream of water hits her squarely in the face, leaving her looking like a frazzled, puzzled puppy. « Good practice fer when ya start ta learn flaming, later on... » Ilicaeth rumbles in his dry, raspy baritone to Lifreyth, the bulky blue taking both delight and amusement in the dragonet's reaction to that first water jet. Like a target, Ilicaeth starts lightly bobbing his neck and head up and down repeatedly in and out of the water, awaiting the brown's next jet...and suddenly finding himself creaking and rumbling his draconic version of rolling laughter as 'mom' is tagged, instead. To Niahvth is half-creeled, half-bugled, « C'mon! » Join in! "Exhausted," is breathed out with a chuckle. But: "He's perfect. He makes it... easy. Compared to some. Most." There's a flicker of doubt there, like Laine isn't sure if easy is how it's supposed to be, but she shakes her head, and throws an arm over her eyes. When she speaks, it's almost shyly. "Thank you. For--him, I guess." Closer to the lake, that brown pauses in his water-jet enterprise to turn his head toward Irianke and Laine, eyes bright and perceptive. There's a flush of gratitude and affection up at his dam, lasting only an instant, and poorly timed with another splattering of water. Then Ilicaeth is the next target: at a distance, Lifreyth's aim is not great, so Niahvth may get some more enthusiastic, ahem, "love". He's trying to hit Ilicaeth, really~! Lost in the moment of love, and not the splashing kind, Niahvth looks like she might relent and wade back towards the playing pair. Then another kind of "love" comes back her way and an unladylike squawk has her retreating towards deeper waters with an imperious command in her trumpet. "You," Irianke says lazily, "Can finish washing yourself off before I'll come oil you." To Laine, a bright blue eye cracks open and an indolent smile flashes to the young woman. "I may have to go once she's cleaned herself and leave you to that," pause, "Hide of yours. You mentioned a letter? From the Tanners I'm assuming?" « That's it, kid! » Ilicaeth's baritone rumbles genially to Lifreyth as the young brown tries his hand (more like mouth) at tagging the grown-up dragon with a jet of water, the blue certain to keep his own motions challenging, but not beyond the dragonet's apparent, budding abilities. There's a turn of head for a moment - leaving him open for a possible spit-spray - so the blue can focus faceted, hopeful eyes upon Niahvth...only to find the gold trumpeting her disgust at being the unintended target, once again. More rumbles of easy-going 'laughter' issue from the blue, who gives up trying to coax 'momma' into the game, Ilicaeth instead re-focusing back upon baby brown. « Can't get me, kid! » Haw-haw! Lifreyth's disappointment as Niahvth withdraws to a safer distance is visible, his wings slumping and tips trailing at the water. But it doesn't last long: there's important business to attend to! He experiments once or twice with splashing with wing, splashing with head, and just paddling as hard as possible with forepaws, but none seem so effective as his original method. It's with enthusiastic little grunts that he spits at Ilicaeth, not, apparently, aiming for anywhere but big and blue. Laine, meanwhile, has sat forward and is looking down again at that hide in her lap, and she hmms, lips pursed. "Tanners," she agrees. "Feel like I should write back, but." She pokes her pencil into the page, crinkling it. "Don't know what to say." Awww... « Another time... » Ilicaeth heartily assures Lifreyth of his dam's unwillingness to join in, the blue living for the moment and quickly able to pick up the spirit of their play-battle, once again. 'Big blue' takes a little of one of those spit-jets while he's looking over at Niahvth, part of his stock neck now glinting in the bright sunlight as water trickles down it. Bugel! He's done it! Rumble-chortling, Ilicaeth sets up his motions again, and once even spits a stream back at the little brown. Miss! To Lifreyth, Niahvth keeps tabs from afar, her mental signature distinctive in its heady tropical scent even when muted. "Nothing. I dunno." Awkward, then, the way Laine toys at the corner of the hide. "'Thanks for feeding me and housing me'? Nothing special I'd like to say, just feel like I should. Acknowledge them." She purses her lips. Lifreyth is a convenient distraction: he suddenly spies something underwater and plunges for it, haunches bobbing to the surface and tail flicking, scrabbling. "Then acknowledge it." Irianke pushes up onto her elbows, the distinctive call Niahvth has sounding across the lake. "Mmmm. I carve out one afternoon for leisure and she decides it's high time I oiled her hide." That fact doesn't push the goldrider to move any faster as she slides off the boulder and stands there with a hand on her hip looking to Laine. "Be frank and appreciative. Mention you'd like to continue relations after you graduate and have more time on your hands. You never know. They may need a rider they trust some day and you might want the Hall for something, even if it's to brush up on skills long forgotten. I'm coming!" The last isn't yelled, not really, not with a way to mentally communicate. It is, maybe, just a tangible, audible, real example for new pairs to see how other dragons work. Maybe! "See you at dinner, Laine." Nothing like a scattered dragonet to make things even more interesting! When Lifreyth dives for whatever he sees beneath the waves, Ilicaeth cocks his own head, then stuffs it beneath the waters, as well, to observe. Little bubbles rise about his neck as some air escapes his mouth. Rumble? « There's fish in here, sometimes. » What few can hide away from dragon bombardments, but hey... Images of those sleek silvery little piscenes are offered to the small brown as possibilities of what he might have seen. Niahvth's call and Irianke's answer are lost in the muddling influence of water. Laine chuckles her sympathy for Irianke's plight (although the weyrling's just got a little handful of dragon to oil), but continues to prod that hide. She nods, though. "That sounds right. Better. Good." But she doesn't put pencil to page. "See you," trails softly after, as Laine hops down from her perch, folds that hide and tucks it in her pocket. She's anticipated what's about to happen next: the little brown dragonet suddenly bobs to the surface of the lake. His lids are drooping, though there's a stirring of dust and flicker of interest for fish, and gratitude flushed up at the older blue, Lifreyth is tired. Tired, tried. He staggers out of the water; Laine meets him halfway, and scoops him up--he's already awkwardly large that she won't be able to do that much longer--and begins the walk back to the barracks. To Niahvth, Lifreyth is all sunny beams of light slanting in through brass-wrought glass and that musky, leathery smell of old books as he touches Niavth's mind with his. It's a cheerful (if sleepy) parting with the distinct feel of, until next time! Lifreyth's tired? Ah, yeah. He's a fingerling. It follows. Ilicaeth lifts his head up to watch Laine haul her still small lifemate off, a soft rumble given in farewell to them both before the blue's shoving off into the deeper part of the lake... to go belly up and sun himself as he floats. Ahhh, this is the life. |
Comments
Edyis (02:08, 5 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
With an opening like this: For a nine-day-old dragonet, the lake shore provides a delirious array of sights, smells--and tastes, apparently, judging by a lanky pinstriped brown who has left several rocks in his wake with long, wet tongue-smears.
It's easy to say this is one of my favorite pairs.
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