Logs:Return of the Lythronath
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| RL Date: 27 August, 2015 |
| Who: A'rist, K'del, Qhyluth, Vrianth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist and Lythronath come home. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'stean/Mentions, Summer/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| It's unfiltered, loud and weighty in the way that only an idea so forceful it becomes a yelled word can be: « HOME. » (To High Reaches dragons from Lythronath) To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth, from his so-often post up upon the rim, lets out a rumble of his own; acknowledge, a loyal son returned. « You're back! » It's pleased. And: « You and yours might come and see us when you've settled in. » Probably, the rest of the Weyr didn't need to know that, but once you're on an open channel... To High Reaches dragons, Vrianth glints dark electricity, dancing sparks: who's he again? To High Reaches dragons, Qhyluth's thoughts uncoil with a shifting of primordial water and a low, fractured moan of distant sycophants. Phosphorescent foam is offered up on a trembling tide as if to illuminate the way back. It takes a while before Lythronath can settle enough to here, to answer when called, to think. First, he's whipping a circuit around the bowl, then out farther, toward the mountains, then back down, to scare the poo (in one case literally) out of the herdbeasts, then up again, past his ledge, a blur of excitement and relief and even a sort of primal joy. A'rist, he just holds on for most of it; holds on and squints into the wind that takes away his laughter. Only once the burst is done, only once that initial, irrepressible energy has waned to something more manageable, does the younger bronze reach out to Cadejoth. « What? » Cadejoth's not one, never one, to deny a person (or dragon) their joy; he's amused by Lythronath's return, amused by this reaction, and perfectly content to wait. « Here, » is what he says, in response to that query, sharing an image of his own presently-empty ledge, and his rider, waiting within. « When he's ready. » K'del, he's already ready, at home and comfortable amidst the remains of the day's work, and the remains of a glass of whiskey, too. Readiness is not evident in his physique, when Lythronath lands, for all his straps are off and his rider is attached only by his own grip, for all the baggage has been lost, presumably to their own weyr. The bronze's muscles quiver, his muzzle turning back toward the bowl as he smells the air. But A'rist hops off promptly, tugging at one of the sleeves of his jacket, rolled up a bit too far and never adjusted during their hasty unloading. Tick tick tick, talons on the ledge, the younger dragon glancing occasionally to Cadejoth, but only as if reminding himself, his attention always drifting back out, back to the rest. His rider's steps are borderline militaristic as they make their way into the weyr, and to the Weyrleader. "You could've taken some time to unpack, first," is K'del's initial remark, made from the doorway as he stands there, awaiting the younger bronzerider. "We wouldn't've minded. But--" he gestures inside with his mostly-empty glass, inviting A'rist in and, presumably, expecting him to simply follow as he makes his own way back indoors. "Welcome back, A'rist." From above, Cadejoth keeps a close, near-paternal eye upon the younger bronze. « You can go back to rediscovering, » he points out. « Fly free. » Twitch. Twitch-twitch. « Blood, » says Lythronath. Tick tick tick. Tail swing. « Ledge. » Nothing more offered to Cadejoth; he's off with another explosion of excitement and muscle. There will be screaming. There will be gore. That brickworked ledge will be reclaimed. All while A'rist says simply to K'del, as he follows him inside, "Thought it would be better to do this now. If we'd waited any longer... well. We might not have got here tonight." (Bloodbloodblood.) "Ah," is all K'del says to that, though it certainly counts as acceptance. He sits back down, setting down his glass on the table alongside it, and turns his gaze back, squarely, to A'rist. "How was Ierne?" It must have been a success; Tiriana didn't murder him, hurray! A'rist takes a seat as well, if only because it would be so very awkward to stay standing. The question brings, at first, nothing but a lick of his lips, thoughtful. What he settles on, leaning forward and clasping his hands before him, is the word, "Foreign." K'del inclines his head forward, accepting this as an answer. "But was it..." 'useful' is perhaps not the right word, but without a better one on hand, his pause goes on a little longer than perhaps it ought. "Interesting?" is what he eventually settles on, carefully. A'rist again takes time before answering. Although his fingers stay clasped, his thumb tips tap against each other once, twice. "B'stean does things differently than you do," he says at last, though it has the sound of confirmation of some assumption made long ago. "Iovniath... is a strong queen. Belyth..." He shrugs. His eyes flicker, and refocus on K'del almost immediately. There's a pull at the corner of his mouth. "The rest, well. Know what I need to know, I guess." Somewhere, another herdbeast screams as it is spread, half-alive, on a ledge. If Lythronath could whistle while he worked, well. It would be all the more horrific. One nod for B'stean. Another for Iovniath, for Belyth. K'del's not-- perhaps for the better-- paying any mind to Lythronath (though his bronze certainly is). "Good," is what he settles on, in the end. "And now you're home. Ready to come back to Taiga?" Beat. "Unless you'd prefer to shake that up, too." One curt nod. "Unless you can think of somewhere more useful. Unless F'manis doesn't want us back. But I think - for now at least, anyway -" and he looks beyond K'del and out toward the ledge, "returning would be better. We've been shaking this whole time." "F'manis," K'del is quick to report, leaning slightly forward in his chair, "is happy to have you back. We've spoken already." Another nod to the younger bronzerider. "Time to settle back in, then. Get back to routine. But things are... good?" A'rist issues another nod, beginning to unclasp his hands, to lean back. He pauses part way through, though, with that last, personal sort of question. Continuing all those abbreviated movements is a conscious decision. "I think," he proceeds, carefully, "that we're as far as we'll come. As maybe ever we were." There, in time with a snapping, spent bone, A'rist allows himself a bit of a smile. "It's good to be home, anyway." This time? A smile, however subtle. Genuine, too. "I'm glad," is equally genuine, firm despite the quietness of it. "Good to have you back, too, though you missed summer, of course." "Guess we did," A'rist shrugs, some of the formality leaving his voice and shoulders, if not the forethought that's been going before his words. "But High Reaches is a winter Weyr, anyway." This is certainly true, as K'del acknowledges with his nod. "Still," he says. "But then, not like Ierne gets cold, so. Things're quiet here, anyway, for the most part. No major happenings, while you've been gone. No confirmed Weyrwoman." Or confirmed Weyrleader. "Well, we're back now," A'rist assures K'del. "So maybe they won't stay quiet for long." Somehwere across the bowl, a resonating roar. To prove that point. It makes K'del laugh, that. "Maybe they won't," he agrees. Then, a nod. "Good to have you back," he says. "Both of you. If you need to take a day to get settled back in, do so. Otherwise, drills in the morning. You need anything, you let us know." |
Comments
Alida (23:20, 27 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Welcome back, 'Risty! Ilicaeth eyerolls. « Lythronath. »
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