Logs:Sacrificial Lamb
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Valenros, Lythronath, Azaylia, Hraedhyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist and Lythronath are a bad influence on Valenros. The least they can do is Search him! |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr 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. The snow under A'rist's boots makes him skid as he hops down from the stairs, back out into the bowl. He doesn't seem alarmed, by the skid, or even when he looks back toward the galleries. His is the face of a young man working a problem; a big, golden, territorial problem. He pushes a hand through his hair, dislodging water droplets, formerly bits of snow before meeting some of the heat of the sands so briefly. He looks around the bowl, people and non-Lythronian dragons passed over until his gaze settles in the direction of the feeding pens. And then, he smiles. A'rist has a plan. Valenros is out there minding his own business, shuffling along the snow in the bowl with his shoulders bent and his head down. There's a certain aura of someone who doesn't want to be seen or - approached. But then he comes to a sudden halt when someone hops down into the bowl close enough to startle him. He looks up, all wide brown eyes and furrowed, wrinkled brow. "What?" The words have left his mouth before he can stop himself, and still he clamps his lips shut as he regards the dragonrider with a still-perplexed expression. Hraedhyth's roars can still be heard from within the hatching cavern in the wake of A'rist's retreat. There is no stomping, not with the precious cargo at her feet, but the air is aflame with maternal outrage. They'll quiet, in time, long enough for Valenros' words to be audible to the potential egg-theif. Er, A'rist. No doubt if Azaylia were actually in the galleries, the queen's reaction wouldn't have been so bad. "Shh!" It's a delayed reaction, as is the grab for Valenro's shoulder, both coming only once he's sorted out whatever it is he's sorting out with his dragon. "Hraedhyth," is said with intense meaning in the tone. A'rist is, apparently, trusting the other man to understand it all. The gravity of the situation. The allure of the eggs. The danger of the brooding mother. He's also, apparently, trusting him not to get grossed out or terrified when Lythronath comes swooping low over the bowl, spattering fresh-fallen snow with flecks of blood from the big hind leg he holds, and backwinging in really, really close, looking to land. The shoulder grab and the dragon's name don't cause much of a reaction from Valenros, except maybe recognition of the queen's name. But the bronze winging overhead, the blood mingled with snow, and then the dragon in question landing quite close causes the former holder to go as still as a statue - which is just as well, it would suit A'rist's plan beautifully. He seems completed shocked - frightened? - by the dark patches in the otherwise pristine snow, his eyes moving from those spots to the dragon.. slowly. Out of sight, out of mind. Once again the galleries are empty, which is all that matters to the overprotective queen. Though Hraedhyth has stopped roaring, there is the faintest echo of a steady growl-- possibly some territorial clicking mixed in with her throaty rumble. A'rist seems almost to enjoy the reaction his dragon causes, standing up a bit straighter, the smile on his face almost charming, though he's not released Valenros' shoulder. "Lythronath," says the bronzerider easily, with a tilt of his head toward that massive head. That massive head, it's not in the least bit concerned with Valenros. It's turned toward the sands, tilting, flicking a speck of gore closer to the two young men. There are two clicks deep in his throat. His head bobs, down, up, once. And his rider's look has turned almost playful. If also scheming. "You were at the feast. Can't have seen the eggs yet, though, huh?" Introductions or not, Valenros still looks afraid - perhaps a bit like he might throw up. He's not a brave fellow, after all. "I.. I.." But he stops trying quickly and stays as still as possible. It's only the rider's voice that coaxes his attention from the dragon, his pallor a little green. "I.. ah.. I didn't.. no.. not.." Broken sentences, loud swallows, all further signs of his trepidation; from the way he looks at the blood, it's definitely more about the gore than the dragon. Then again, such a fearsome beast is pretty.. fearsome. All he manages after his stuttering and sputtering is a weak head shake in the negative. "No." In the wake of Lythronath's clicking, Hraedhyth's growl slowly begins to taper off. Eventually, an alert quiet falls on the innards of the galleries, the tense air possibly leaking out into the bowl. She's watching. Waiting. None shall pass. All that stuttering has A'rist's face falling a bit, uncertain... until he laughs. His hand releases Valenros' shoulder, only to come back with a quick clout. "Come on." The rider's eyes are alive with possibility, mischief. "You want to?" Lythronath has fallen just as silent, though that strong tail of his swings out behind him from side to side, his balance shifting, wings twitching outward incrementally. The piece of meat in his teeth might well have been forgotten - if not for the slight flexing of his jaws when it starts to slip. Valenros's body jerks from the slap and then he rights himself, swallowing audibly as he tries on the fakest of grins. "Ahhhh.." He looks from dragon to rider, fidgeting his hands. "I.. ah.." Eyes go back to the dragon. Well, the alternatives to saying no might be worse - who knows, Lythronath might take offense and then where would Ros be? "Ok.. sure.. sure.." And he edges a little bit closer to A'rist, farther away from his bloody dragon friend. "I'll come.. to see.. the eggs? Can.. can we?" In the distance, a figure approaches. They're far away enough that recognition would be difficult, though the person is making an unhurried beeline for the hatching caverns. While Lythronath is difficult to miss, it's a good chance that Valenros and A'rist are safe from being identified themselves. Which is good, since it seems to be mischief they're planning. "You're scared," sounds almost delightedly. Suddenly, and much more gravely, A'rist advises, "Seriously. Don't be." And then, he's gesturing toward the dragon, who, for the first time, turns to look straight at them. His rider. And this other. Aren't those wide forward-set eyes impressive? Be not at all afraid. "We'll go in from up top." All these emotions from everyone. Valenros has the smarts enough to feign a little bit of bravery, attempting another pained grin. "S-sure.. the top..?" If he's implying that they fly up, well, that's lost on the holdbred man, who is used to travel by runner, wagon, or foot. "How.. how do we.. get.. up? Up there?" His confusion is back, written plainly across his face, but it's enough to distract him from the bloody mess left by the bronze, as his eyes swing upwards. The figure is closer now, billowing black (or is it blue?) cloak breaking the decidedly feminine silhouette. The hood is up, but both arms are bent and burdened by a bundle and a cup of something steamy. A'rist gestures grandly, as if Valenros might have missed that massive blazing bronze right there, with the leg hanging out of his mouth, until this very moment. "Lythronath." Lythronath, whose inspection of Valenros is cut short by - he wiggles his back legs and crouches forward - that approaching person. "Quick, come on." He's aware of that approach too, now. "It'll only be cold for a sec. The warm air from the sands, it travels up." A finger pointed directly at the sky. And a few quick sidesteps later, A'rist is grabbing hold of a strap on his dragon's neck, and looking pointedly, urgently, at Valenros. Apprehension creeps in as the bronzerider suggests riding Lythronath to the top. Valenros looks all around, not noticing the approaching figure any more than any other person in the bowl. He takes one step closer, then another, inexplicably drawn to the rider's expression. "Is it.. ok? Should we be..?" Regardless, he makes it to the bronze's side and holds out a hand for the rider to help him up onto the dragon's back. It would seem he's not sure what he's doing; likely he needs guidance of some sort. Lythronath has already been seen, but now he's recognized, which sets Azaylia into a jog. Or would, if not for the hot klah she carries. She most certainly speeds up, stride jostling with the force of each footfall. It's unlikely the Weyrwoman will get there in time to stop them, if that's her intention, if they're quick enough. It'll be a close call. A'rist swings up first, clearly practiced at it. A strong hand is held out for Valenros, who gets a tug. At the same time as Lythronath sidesteps, head swinging from the faster-approaching Azaylia, and back to try and see who's trying for his back. The lower part of that leg is not so cold as not to swing a bit when the bronze goes searching. A'rist makes a face. Valenros takes the hand and swings up behind the dragonrider, off-balance for a beat before he hangs onto whatever he can reach for death life. He's back to looking scared and being as still as a rock, clinging to the dragon's backridge. "I think.." he mumbles behind A'rist, "Oh shards, this is h-high." Ah well, not everything can go smoothly then. But for now, he keeps his lunch down. Azaylia's lips are moving, muttered words punctuated by puffs of white mist. Any futher lingering on their part will be met with whatever mood the Weyrwoman might be in. Though their fate is ultimately sealed, for if she's unable to catch them before take off then she continues her purposeful stride into the cavern. Lythronath watches Azaylia, but when his rider's posture changes, so does he. They're airborne, a mighty jump, and whatever concentration it took for this to happen seems to have pre-empted any words of actual warning from A'rist to his passenger. Hopefully that death-grip is still in place. Lythronath gains altitude quickly, still holding the leg in his jaws, a rumble issuing to the weyrwoman below as he goes up, up and over, aiming for one of the gallery ledges. There he is - Valenros is, indeed, holding on tight with every ounce of his strength. His head is bent low over Lythronath's back, his elbows digging in for support. If he could find the courage to speak, he might scream, but as it is, he's speechless. To Hraedhyth, Lythronath projects « Hahahaha! » Inside the galleries, Azaylia's shed her cloak and is scanning the ledges with an expectant stare. Though she doesn't look particularly annoyed, her arms are crossed. Behind her, Hraedhyth is on all fours, red-tinted gaze following her lifemates as she shifts her weight from one side to the other. When they do make an appearance, the queen belts a furious roar at them, oversized jaws bared and glistening. She doesn't move forward, keeping close to the cluster of eggs at her feet, although her wings spread wide and her blunt neck cranes forward. To Lythronath, Hraedhyth offers only vicious maternal fury. « OUT. » To Hraedhyth, Lythronath projects « This one! » Lythronath lands. He gets to do that much, though the bronze's wings stay out and at the ready. That leg gets dropped. And A'rist, A'rist, from his dragon's back, uses his best projecting bronzerider voice to call, "We'll go but we've got to give you him first!" He waits a moment, letting the yell carry, echo away, and then pivots, an apologetic shrug offered up to his newfound friend/sacrificial lamb. That raging inferno flickers, stuttering with surprise. He is not spared her wrath, punctuated by a deafening strike of her drums. « GOOD. » (To Lythronath from Hraedhyth) « Good, » echoes Lythronath, though his is far more proud; the hunter delivering his quarry - both of them - to his queen. (To Hraedhyth from Lythronath) Offerings, both of meat and candidate, aren't enough to ease her overprotective fury. The faint scent of floral incense, however, « YOU DID WELL. » Though her bellow is as fearsome as before, the sentiment is still there. Good job, Lythronath. (To Lythronath from Hraedhyth) As soon as they land, Valenros is already trying to scramble down, with a little help from the dragonrider. He drops down and falls on his butt, scrambling backwards on his hands. Well, that sure was some experience. "I.. wha.." But there needs be no answer, as the statement echoes off the walls of the cavern and he turns a half accusatory, half confused look on A'rist. "She'll explain!" shouts A'rist, and with a final rumble, they're off. And if Lythronath kicks the leg more toward the sands in the process... so be it. Hraedhyth sounds another frothing roar, ever the contrast to Azaylia's watchful silence. There's a flicker of surprise, and the Weyrwoman's tense posture begins to relax as A'rist throws Valenros at the gold pair's mercy. The bloody leg flies off the ledges, tumbling and falling with a sickening splat onto a stone seat. With a glance from her rider, the queen quiets into a savage rumble, one that allows Azaylia to be heard. "Come here." Voice is firm, whispery tones raised. Thankfully, there are steps leading from the ledges down into the galleries. There's complete silence from the ledges after the bronze and his rider take their leave. Valenros is still while Azalyia speaks, then slowly crawls towards the edge of the ledge. He peaks over, his eyes incredibly wide as he looks down at the sands. Eggs are down there, alright. Following the Weyrwoman's command, he pushes himself to standing and then starts to descend the stairs. No words are utter until he gets to the galleries, where he stands at the bottom of the steps, looking quite embarrassed and apologetic all at once. Color is rising in his cheeks when he nods his head in respect, "Weyrwoman Azalyia. I'm.. I'm sorry to.. I didn't know.. we couldn't.. be here." Azaylia meets him halfway, if only because that gorey haunch is closer to where Valenros stands. "A'rist did. And I imagine Lynner-- Lythronath did too." Which is probably what fueled the boundary-pushing bronze. With a small smile, she bends to grab handfuls of that haunch, fingers squelching as they curl into the tenderized flesh. "Hraedhyth is extremely protective of her cluch. It's safest to come in when I'm here, or she's alseep." With a feminine grunt, she hefts up the flank and moves toward the rails, "Still, Lythronath must like you if he's willing to bring you along. Or Search you." Her explanation is all too casual, despite the gruesome task of tossing the meat onto the sands to help placate her dragon. Valenros winces as the truth is revealed, complicit in his own ignorance. He drops his head in his hands and gives it a shake. "I'm such an idiot." Lifting his face, he smiles ruefully and takes a step to the side - a little farther from the animal leg shank and all of its bloodiness. "Yes.. yes, ma'am." Another side-step, as if he's making for the exit; it would be the smartest thing to do in this type of situation. "I don't think," he starts, "that he likes me.. or.. or, wants to, uh, Search me, ma'am." Hraedhyth stretches her neck in order to snap up the fallen flesh, tearing into the morsel, ignoring any sand that might be clinging to it. Azaylia is left to figure out a solution for her bloody palms, glancing at them before her eyes find the inching lad. "He might." Like Valenros. "And he did." Search him. "Lythronath seemed very pleased with himself, offering you up to Hraedhyth as a candidate." What annoyance she may have been feeling is replaced with gentle amusement. She decides to find and use her discarded cloak in order to wipe her hands clean. Valenros is all set to make his escape, but he stops his side-stepping to stare at Azalyia with his mouth partly open. Him? Searched? One of the most bloodless people at the Weyr? Standing for.. a dragon? All sorts of emotions race across his face before it settles into wonder. "M..me?" His eyes flick to the eggs, where tiny lives are even now forming. Wonderful. "I'm.. I.. they want me to be a.. candidate?" It's slow in coming but a smile lights up his features, making him look even younger than he is. "I can't believe it. ME." Someone sure looks proud of himself. "Mmhm." Azaylia offers, otherwise quiet as she gives Valenros time enough to realize she's serious. Hraedhyth crunches through the bone, noisily slurping at marrow before it's all eventually devoured. Which means there's nothing to pull her attention away from Valenros. Her red gaze locks onto him, unblinking, but snarling rather than roaring. The Weyrwoman mirrors his smile, her eyes bright as she approaches with a single clap of her hands, "You. So you accept?" There may have been some concern that he'd choose otherwise, given the givens. Hraedhyth is a vague image in the background, one which Valenros is aware of but his primary focus is on the Weyrwoman and her question. A "yes" would be the obvious answer, and he looks on the verge of saying so, but hesitates for a moment, "I.. ah.. I could.." He frowns, on the cusp of some new emotion, which is whisked away with a sigh. "No. I mean.. I mean, yes.. yes to you.. yes, I will.. I'll, stand.. be a candidate." A tremulous smile follows. "If that's your decision," Because now Azaylia is lightly concerned, "You'll want to find the Headwoman's office to get your white knot." She places a hand on his shoulder, stained of blood but thankfully dry. "We'd be happy to have you..." Ah, "I'm terrible with names. What was it again?" Given how many people she meets with, and Valenros' lack of a draconic reminder. "It.. it is." A solid bob of his head accompanies his answer, his face set firm.. for now. "I know how to find her.. and I'll.. I'll get a knot from her. Ma'am." Valenros looks down at the hand on his shoulders, kind of disturbed by the blood, but otherwise content. "Valenros.. from Winter Ridge Hold, ma'am. We met in the.. stables with.. with.. oh, nevermind." Best not to rehash that incident. Bad feelings and all that. "Azaylia, please." The Weyrwoman reminds, however gently. The glance to her hand has her pulling it away with some embarrassment, "Sorry. Thought I got it all." Not that she seems terribly bothered by it. "If you Impress, you'll be butchering meat for a baby..." So get used to it. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves." With a soft laugh and a nod, "Valenros. I'll remember, next time." Hraedhyth gives a sudden lurch, growl growing into the beginnings of a roar, dark wings spread in a threat. She'll come up there. "Ah. The, uhm. Eggs. They're still very new, so it'd probably be best if you went to get that knot. Now." She insists. Blood and meat - yes, let's save that for another time. Valenros is happy to get out of the gold's way, scrambling for the exit with a wave to the goldrider. "Thank you.. sor.. sorry. Won't intrude.. again.. thanks.. again." And he's gone in a flash, moving faster than he's moved since coming to High Reaches. |
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Comments
A'rist on 21:02, 25 June 2014 said...
As they left, Lythronath surely told A'rist, all smug-like, « Eggs. » He may also have told Hreadhyth. You do know that, right?
Alida on 22:56, 25 June 2014 said...
Heeheehee! At least *someone* got Hrae to roar in outrage again!
K'del on 01:03, 27 June 2014 said...
Poor Valenros.
Lythronath is terrifying. D:
Edyis on 07:44, 20 July 2014 said...
I don't know I kind of Like Lythronath as a search dragon, I don't think i'd want to be searched by him, but it is fun to watch others get their introductions.
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