Logs:Safe as Houses
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| RL Date: 16 July, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia has a gift for K'del. Cadejoth has things to show Hraedhyth. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 4, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Meara/Mentions |
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| K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Rank certainly has its privileges, and among them are amply appointed apartments. The short flight of stairs from the Weyrleader's Complex opens up into the larger of two chambers, formally decorated and clearly designed to cater as much to important guests as the occupant's personal living. Old, but obviously expensive, llama wool rugs dyed blue-and-black cover the stone floor, leading towards the second chamber, the stairs, and the rush-filled dragon couch and ledge beyond it. A formal seating arrangement - a sofa and chairs, all blue-and-black - sits around a large, tiled fireplace, whilst along the other wall, a finely made, if now somewhat antique, desk sits between a bookshelf and a tall cupboard to which tack-hooks have been attached, riding gear arranged neatly inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendour for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside. The inner weyr, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area, is smaller and cosier and distinctly less ostentatious. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels. Spring comes not in a blaze of warm sun, but in a whisper soft rain that melts the snow and makes the ground muddy. On this gray afternoon, patience wears thin and with a slippery lurch, Hraedhyth takes to the air with a dark figure on her back. No different than from flying in snow, the gold's confident in beating the air with her clubs and landing heavily upon one ledge in particular. Thudslide. When she's regained her footing does Hraedhyth seek shelter at the very front of the weyr, letting her rider slipn'slide free from the straps. Azaylia pushes back the damp hood she's wearing, black cloak the only one she could find on such short notice. Rather than bother to see if anyone is home, the weyrling turns to her dragon's side to unfasten her cargo. Cadejoth is not, of course, on his ledge: these days, he's far more likely to be found on the senior queen's ledge, and often curled up alongside Ysavaeth. When, that is, he is at rest. Today, he's high above the Weyr, circling the spires in exaggerated circles that clearly serve to expel nervous energy-- energy the Weyrleader's bronze is well known to have an excess of. « Hello, » he trumpets in Hraedhyth's direction, spying her on one of these circuits. « Have you felt the winds today? It's glorious. » His words are accompanied by a jangle of metal against metal, bone against bone. Metal against bone. Hraedhyth peeks her crowned head outside at her Sire's greeting, the motion causing Azaylia to stiffen suddenly. When it it is revealed to be Cadejoth sans rider, her chilled fingers continue to work at freeing the sizable bulge from her dragon's straps. « Hello. » Calmed by a sense of duty within, her deep bellow up at the flying bronze certainly mimics the energy in his greeting. « It is... » A moment to ask her weyrling what it is that's certainly not what she would call glorious. « ...wet. » But she will play with his chains. Noisy! Noise is something the gold can do, bone clubs wrapped in Cadejoth's metal, drum beats no longer purely her own but still fun. Azaylia is grateful for the distraction, focused more on the weight in her arms that has her struggling to move further into K'del's Weyr. Wrapped in sheets it could possibly be dragged, but the young woman is determined to strain her muscles, perhaps enjoying the challenge. « Yes, » agrees Cadejoth, not about to argue with the facts. It is wet; it's still glorious. Rain dapples his mental landscape, droplets adding plinging sounds to his chains-- the ones he's so happily allowing Hraedhyth to play with. Such noise! Such fun! « What is yours doing? Should I send K'del out to meet her? » Where his rider is he doesn't specify - though he can't be too far away if Cadejoth is above the Weyr without him, strapless and unfettered. Hraedhyth fights water with fire, warming her insides and fanning flames in defiance at her sire's enjoyment of this wet stuff. « She has hunted for him. » This fact mingles with growing annoyance at the water that dares to fall from the sky. « But not today. Today she is taking matters into her own hands. » Which isn't an answer to either of his questions, water flung from vibrating drumskins, flinging the rain back up at him. Azaylia will stop at the first table-like surface she can find, effort etched into her face as she makes sure not to just drop it. Once there's contact, she'll drape atop the crudely wrapped package, panting and waiting for the feeling to return in her fingers. Did Cadejoth give the game away? Is it simply coincidence? Although there's a fire at the hearth in K'del's weyr, it has burnt down to little more than embers, and there's a certain quiet that suggests there has been no one home for some time. Now, however, no sooner has Azaylia deposited her package, there's the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then there's K'del, stepping inside. Above, Cadejoth is not really enlightened by Hraedhyth's remarks, and hesitates, allowing the water to be flung over and through him, allowing it to patter upon metal and bone. He'll take it, if she doesn't want it. It's no hassle. « I see, » he says, although he surely doesn't. The sound of footsteps is something that not even Hraedhyth can ignore, turning her head in an untentional mirror of her weyrling. « Traitor. » Whether the bronze had a hand in it or not, there is an accusation that lacks that worrying anger. Possibly playful. Azaylia straightens, hand running over her hair down to twin tufts, tugging the cloak and smoothing any wrinkles in her training clothes. "Weyrleader." She gives up on a casual greeting, his title said through a bright smile that's got a smidge of something guilty. She isn't doing anything. Hraedhyth will stick her head back out, letting the rain darken her hide in order to watch Cadejoth circle above. « He was coming home anyway, » replies Cadejoth, with more amusement than is probably warranted. « You should come and fly with me, while they talk. It's more fun! Are you allowed? » It may be wet, but the winds: he's happy to share them, give her a taste of what awaits, so high above the Weyr. K'del's, "Azaylia!" certainly seems to confirm Cadejoth's remark; he sounds surprised, but not ill-pleased. His gaze slides past her package, lingering only for a moment, coming to rest on the weyrling herself with an accompanied smile. "You want some tea or something? Klah? I--" His turn to sound guilty. "Haven't seen you for a little while, I guess. How're you doing?" He looks tired, and not uncomfortable so much as out of place somehow. « No one can stop me. » Hraedhyth answers, and before Cadejoth is allowed any doubt she launches off the ledge. The sudden departure has Azaylia's head turning, surprise fading away by the time she slowly returns her attention to K'del. "Tea would be lovely," Until a split second later, "Oh. But I was trying not to bother you." This time, unlike before which had her peeking into an unexpectantly empty weyr several times. The weyrling tries not to nod too firmly, "It's alright, I've been busy too." A hand rises to rest atop the damp sheet covering what looks to be a box. "I've been fine. Hraedhyth too. We're just... getting used to things." The new things that have suddenly sprung up. "You're not a bother," says K'del, reassuringly - and anyway, he's already turning towards the hearth, stoking up the fire with the efficiency of one well used to this task. In this position, she won't be able to see the frown that forms across his expression at her answers, but perhaps she can hear it in his voice when he admits, "You and me both. Things happen... suddenly, around here. What brought you over here today? Did you need to see me about something?" He's seen the sheet-covered box; it's like he's playing dumb, not referring to it directly. « Good, » says Cadejoth, approvingly, leading the way between the spires with a thread of mental chain to direct the younger dragon: like this, and she'll be safe. Azaylia will play the part of perfect guest, which means shedding her own coat after she's been reassured by the host. "I..." Folding the damp cloak becomes priority, distracting her as she thinks over her answer. "Hraedhyth likes to convince me that some of my ideas are good ones. And I've had this one for a while, since Tiriana." Some of the sheet will be tugged off to protect more of the table from her folded cloak, revealing a corner of black stone, or possibly unpolished metal. "Since I couldn't catch you, I decided to just leave it but..." Then he showed up. Hraedhyth will follow only until she feels she understands, grasping the chain in powerful jaws, locked on while flying free. If it had been a week or so ago, she may have tried to outfly him. But with Cadejoth's status reaffirmed, the gold will keep slightly behind him, mostly at his side. Even in her pride and stubbornness, she recognizes him as alpha. Leaving the kettle to boil atop the hearth, K'del steps around the couch and back towards the table, and Azaylia's package. "What... I don't know what it is, but you didn't need to." K'del's words are quiet but firm, and there's a definite note of pleasure, too; as though it doesn't really matter what her idea was, the fact that she had it is what makes the difference. "Glad I came home, in that case, anyway." Cadejoth is alpha, yes, but he's also a proud, doting father, and in his silent mental contact he murmurs encouragements and enticements: see what you can do, go, go, go. The seven spindles are the perfect practice, ground, really - challenging, but not impossible, not even for larger dragons like the bronze and his young daughter. « Faster! » "My Papa had one. It was the first thing I thought of, when I heard." Her explination is quiet but rushed, already tugging the rest of those borrowed linens off. Less of a box, more of a rough, metallic rectangle that seemed otherwise plain if not for the large High Reaches symbol on the front. Three seperate dials were beneath the engraving, various numbers for each and a latch. "It's for things you want to keep safe if there's... a-a fire." One of the more accidental kind, instead of the revenge kind. "They use stone from Ista, on the inside." Babbling, eyes on the heavy safe rather than the Weyrleader. Outside, Hraedhyth is so easy to rile. Infamously so at this point, and when her father encourages her the gold will push herself and all that she's learned during lessons. Ichor pumping through her, the gold announces her exhilaration with one of those too-deep roars, savage pleasure carried in the heated beating of her drums. K'del's low, "Oh!" is one of unbridled pleasure, so obvious and so... real, amidst the more careful responses of more recent days. "Oh, Azaylia." One hand reaches to smooth over the surface of the rectangular object, the other aiming to reach for the weyrling herself, and, if she'll let him, draw her in to a sidelong hug. "It's perfect. Never thought I'd need such a thing, but... Clearly, I do. Thank you." The Weyr may regret this game between bronze and gold, but Cadejoth's having too much fun to restrain himself, attempting to execute tight corners with precision, though his bulk makes that rather more difficult: he's quite a bit larger than her, still. « Have they taken you to where the adult dragons get bathed, yet? » he wonders, having circled the Star Stones a second time. It's never a bad time for a hug, Azaylia pulled in only until she's sure it's what he's aiming at. A second later she'll wrap him in a crushing embrace, head ducking in order to hide the impossibly wide grin on her lips. "It took a while." What with weyrling training, actually having the thing commissioned and made... but clearly she thinks it worth the effort. Another squeeze, and she'll let him go with the smile shrinking into something more bashful. "I guess it's a Hurray For Catching gift, now?" A flustered moment for forgotten manners, "You're welcome." Restraint? What's that? Nothing Hraedhyth is interested in, pushing herself to make corners that are not particularly tight, but they're fast. Dangerously so, an overprotective soul might say. « No? » Uncertainty is brushed off and shared with Cadejoth, they could have for all that she cares. « We soak in the place of healing. » There may still be a few dragonhealers complaining about Azaylia's habit to get in with Hraedhyth. K'del releases the safe in order to use both arms on the hug, squeezing Azaylia with almost as much force as she is using on him. The bashfulness of her smile, after, only makes him smile more broadly, and indicate the couch and seating area with a tip of his head: "Water's boiling. Take a seat?" He doesn't wait for a reply, but heads instead to begin working on making two cups of it, saying, as he does so, "Thanks. Guess maybe it is. It-- took me by surprise. Guess that's all of us. Hopefully things'll quiet down, now." There's something in his tone when he says that that suggests he's not feeling wholly confident about that, but still, there's a thread of hope, and perhaps that's enough. « Then I will show you the better place. You'll be allowed to go there soon. » Cadejoth abandons the complicated twists and turns of High Reaches' spires and spindles, heading outward over the muddy landscape and higher into the mountains. « You're not too tired? » It's an afterthought. Forgive him. Azaylia isn't used to getting as good as she gives, a squeak slipping passed her lips at being squeezed. It's a happy one, at least. She hesitates for a moment at his invitation, then tuck herself against one of the ends in order to mostly face the bronzerider. "For what it's worth, Hraedhyth was really happy. She celebrated for most of the night, when she heard." She sounds a little less enthused, one ankle resting on the opposite knee as her hands grip and worry at the tights. "Hopefully." The weyrling tries and manages to sound optimistic, despite a similar, uncertain tone haunting her words. Hraedhyth likes better, confident that she deserves it being who she is, what she is. There's one more, possibly defiant path cut around a spire before the young queen follows him. « No! » Her answer is paired with another roar, insulted by his concern, pushing herself to catch up and prove that she's more than capable. After handing the weyrling one of the mugs, K'del retreats to the armchair opposite, stretching out his long legs in front of them to warm in front of the newly reinvigorated hearth. "Was she? I'm glad. And... what do you think, Azaylia? Is it a relief, that it won't come down to Hraedhyth or Iesaryth? I know... it's not what any of us expected." He's caught her uncertainty, there's no doubt of that, and it rather seems as though he's trying to be reassuring - trying, and not altogether succeeding. "She'll need your support. Iolene, I mean. Yours, and Brieli's, and Lujayn's." Cadejoth seems pleased and amused by Hraedhyth's roar, and jangles his chains at her, leading her onwards. It's not far - just a little bit further through the mountains, between crags and over crevasses, until they reach a muddy clearing. In the midst of it? A bubbling hot pool, easily big enough for several dragons at a time. « Here! >. says Cadejoth, triumphant. "Believe it or not," Azaylia will give him that choice after thanking him for the tea and resting it on her knee, "It's almost as if I forgot it could have been either of us. Everyone seemed so sure of Rielsath." So for peace of mind, she had subconciously taken either weyrlings out of the running. "I'm happy, if this is what Iolene wants. For her. for you." A gentle smile towards the Weyrleader, steady despite her next words. "But... I don't like what it's doing to people. It's how things have always been done," Right? She pauses to look for his confirmation. "Ysavaeth rose first. Dragons make the Weyr what it is." A shrug, as if to dismiss her own opinion as she falls quiet in order to drink her tea. Hraedhyth may mistake that pleasure for teasing if her sire isn't careful, but the new scenery aids as a distraction. She'll lower suddenly, inspecting pern's craggy openings only to rise on a forceful thermal to keep up with Cadejoth. « ...This is better! » So says she, a tremor of delight rumbling through her, surely enough to jostle his chains. « You do not lie. » And for this, she will offer warmth from her hearth, flames of approval. To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth announces herself with heat and steam, a damp warmth rather than her usual scorching flames. « Sister! » Hot, primal panting from physical exertion that she refuses to admit to any other than Iesaryth. « He has shown me a better bathing place. Fit for us. » For the dragonets and their weyrlings. As for who He is, there are chains which decorate her clubs, drums sounding tainted but not in an unpleasant way. He. Sire. Alpha. Cadejoth. K'del gives what Azaylia has to say careful consideration. Iolene's not here at the moment, but she often is, she could return at any moment - and still, he speaks his thoughts with serious consideration. "Yes, that's how it's always been done. Ysavaeth rose first, and that makes her senior. I think the problem is... no one is quite sure what she will do with the position. Whether she will hold it, the way it has always been done, or..." He seems unsure of how to continue - or perhaps it's whether he should. "What happens if she doesn't do things the way they've always been done? I don't-- like what it's doing to people either." And that may well inclinde himself, given the suddenly unhappy glance he's giving his tea. Chains jostled, flames of approval warming him against the wet, wet rain; Cadejoth is well content. He drops like a stone, straight into the currently deserted pool, sending up a wave of warm water. « It's much nicer, » he agrees. « I never lie. » Surprised by her sister-gold's sudden shift into her own element, Iesaryth is awoken from her doze on her couch, now far-too-small and uncomfortable; she, along with her rider, is impatient to be done with the barracks and the others. The exertion has the sun sparkling on waves, curious. « Where have you been? » Without ME?!? « Ah, is it here? » She images the spires, though her echoes for Cadejoth are different. Obviously. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) Azaylia listens, eager for answers to her silent questions. She may not look as such, eyes peering down into her mug at the admittedly delicious tea, not terribly uncomfortable but not completely at ease. "She should," Startled by the confidence in her words, awareness chases it off before she continues. "M-maybe... train with us? Still? It couldn't hurt." A glance up at K'del, "Could it?" Before he can answer, she speaks in a rushed exhale, "I don't see how she could change- Hraedhyth's still a baby." Not so much, now. "And she knows how it works. Even if Iolene wants to, will the dragons be okay with it?" Azaylia's concern for their mental wellbeing is genuine. Hraedhyth's urge is brought to life in the bronze, and from the moment he begins to drop she is right behind him. Not literally, she lands a little ways off. « I never lie. » Youthful tones mimic his, wrapped up links that crack with her voice, not quite as rich as promised. Yet. « That does not mean they need to know all that you do. » They being enemies, outsiders, or even acquaintances. Fort. To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth submerges herself within her Sister's waves, though they roil too hot, soothingly warm from where she is. « Where the others bathe. » The adults. « They will not let you fly this far, yet. » Iesaryth is still behind, as far as the Weyrlingmasters are concerned. « I will bring you here. It is nice. » She'll offer a vision of a rain-muddied clearing, home to a bubbling hot pool, far more large and luxurious than the dragonhealer's tub. "I don't know," admits K'del, which could be in answer to so many things, but comes after Azaylia's last question, accompanied by a shake of the head. "We'll have to see, I guess. I-- haven't talked to Iolene, yet. To see what she's intending." Is that guilt in his expression? Some suggestion, somehow, that maybe he's afraid to ask? Certainly, that scratching of his hairline is a nervous gesture of his. "So maybe everyone is concerned for no reason, right? I think it'd be good if she trained with you. You could all work together, figure things out. It'd help." For all that he doesn't sound sure. Sure of the idea? Sure of Iolene? « Oh no, » agrees Cadejoth, with a hint of smug entangled around each link, one after another. « There is a difference between lies and simply... » A spark chases up and down the length of those chains. « Not saying. That's how it works. How it has to work. You're wise, Hraedhyth. » Not even 'young Hraedhyth'! He sends a wave in her direction with his tail, stretching out his wings contentedly. To Hraedhyth, Iesaryth's tide begins to withdraw, her mercurial moods turning sunny skies darker, waves grey in no time flat. Impatience reaching the breaking point; « I am bigger than any of the greens and most of the blues. I should be able to fly where I like. I will carry Brieli soon. This is all completely ridiculous. » She'll take that image of the muddied clearing and tuck it away, like she so often does, but after, disappears in a spray of seafoam. /Someone's/ all grouchy. Azaylia finds no peace in K'del's answer, though just having him try has her nodding. When he admits to not talking to Iolene about her plans, her lips thin ever so slightly. It doesn't last long, forcing them to part in order to sip her tea, "Weyrleaders need to work together." Not scolding him, she'd never dare. Simply reciting what she's read in the manner most tend to when they've got an overabundance of new knowledge. New to her, at least. "It'll be fine." With nothing to back up her words, Azaylia instead eases forward. "I know I don't know much, still. But I'll help. You and Iolene. Whatever I need to do for my-" Startled, and then smiling. "Our home." Hraedhyth gives a satisfied snort from the pool, both for conversations back at the weyr and to expell water from her nostrils. « Yes. » She agrees, wholeheartedly. Despite what others may think of her, that is a lot of heart. A machine almost forgotten stalls and starts, borrowed voice mingling well with her growls, « I am one wise Lil' Queen. » Soothing though the waters may be, she's still full of energy and will splash around the bronze, using her whole head to throw water back at him. So much energy! To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth is startled, bursting from the water in order to try and chase the fading sunlight. What? « You are bigger! » So what's the problem? Her confusion all too quickly turns into aggitation, the fires flaring too big and too bright within their pits to compensate for Iesaryth's dark skies. The spray of seafoam manages to douse even the warrior's flames, determined embers remaining, left as a reminder. She is there, and will be for as long as she is needed. But for once, Hraedhyth doesn't push. K'del can read a lot into Azaylia's words, and into her stance, too; he's not unaware of the peace she hasn't found, nor of her feelings on the subject. "I know you will," he says, quietly. "And I know we'll both call on you for that. High Reaches needs all of us-- that's how things work. How they'll always work. I'll-- I am going to talk to her, Azaylia. I promise you that." It's an obvious weight on his shoulders, though one he attempts to hide with a casual sip from his mug. "You'll be assigned your weyrs soon. Guess I need to remind Iolene of that, too. Making sure they're both habitable." He's changing the subject. « Of course you are, » confirms Cadejoth, throwing more water at Hraedhyth in return. His memory is hazy, but still: « You're my daughter. And Ysavaeth's. How could you be anything else? » He dives, then, sending mini tsunamis towards the shoreline; his mental laughter is triumphant, glorious, perfect. « So why can I not do what everyone else can? » That's Iesaryth's departing thought - though she knows Hraedhyth can't answer and can't change it, she still is tired and irritable and impatient to be done being behind. She still goes but does not presume to try to douse the warrior's fire, so often is the soothing sound of the waves constant in the back of the other gold's mind. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) "Well it's not like it's my business." Not really, though Azaylia can't completely hide the fact that she's pleased by his promise. "Oh?" At the mention of personal weyrs, she's surprised. "The ones on the ground, right?" Disappointment, likely born of her dragon's preferences than for any great love of heights. "Brieli should be able to have one at the same time." There's nothing shy in the way she speaks for the other gold weyrling, determined. "It's no fair if she has to stay in the barracks all by herself." A nod that borders on firm, and a polite sip of tea. "Not that I have enough things to fill a whole weyr with, really." Hraedhyth flings her lids down to protect from the bronze's splashing, though she's giving it her all. « I know. » She can feel it, regardless of a dragon's memory. « And I have punished those who would speak ill of our Queen. » By giving them really bad headaches, as it's all Azaylia will allow her to do. With something of a yelp, she's turned head over tail by the waves, straightening herself out eventually. Another outwards snort of water, she's such a delicate, ladylike thing. K'del doesn't answer that first remark, though the way his lips part, just slightly, suggests he's giving it thought anyway. After another careful sip from his mug, he supposes, "Can't think of any reason why she shouldn't be able to at the same time. Not really my call, but if it were... Cadejoth likes the heights, too, but there's always the rim to sit on-- he does that. Sits up there, keeps an eye on things. And it's convenient for getting places without them." Beat. "You'll get furniture and whatever to fill it. Stuff... piles up." But for now, this weyr is still pretty bare of anything personal: all of that is gone. Cadejoth's got quiet approval for Hraedhyth's punishment, in a guilty kind of sense, as though he shouldn't, but... can't help it, anyway. He glides across the water, less splashy for now. « We look after our own. » For all of their uncertainty and fear, Azaylia's face brightens at the idea of Brieli getting her own weyr "sooner". "I'll talk to Meara." Only a hint of fear, a respectable amount at the idea of approaching the Weyrlingmaster. She has scissors and she's not afraid to use them. "Oh, it's not heights. It's- well, Hraedhyth thinks having a ground weyr leaves us vulnerable." To what or who is never explained, a sheepish shrug given for her tactical lifemate. « We look after our Weyr. » The drums thunder on, echoes carrying the other words for that which they care so much for. Pack. Tribe. Family. It's now that the queen finally feels the efforts of flight, lazily floating after Cadejoth. Suddenly, « I can fly here. » She's capable, clearly. « When will I be able to go to Fort? » A sublte "we" rings in her question, though she doesn't mean the bronze. "Good luck," says K'del, of talking to Meara - she may never have been his Weyrlingmaster, but there's a healthy dose of respect there, too. "Ah." Hraedhyth's thoughts draw a pause in the Weyrleader, who nods a moment later. "Can see her point. Guess it's also an accessibility thing: people like to know they can come talk to us. Got to trade one for the other. Still, can definitely see what's going on about the bowl even from our ledges. In any case, the two of you'll have to decide who gets which one. Iolene's old Weyr, and the one I was using." The burnt one, though there's been work going on in there in more recent months, suggesting it may be rather less burnt, now. « Fort is much, much further than here, » says Cadejoth, sounding reluctant, and largely submerging himself within the heated lake. « You won't be able to go there until you can go Between. » Anyway: her family, her tribe, her pack, they're all here. Why would she want to go to Fort? "That's easy. I'll take the burnt one, if Brieli has a problem with it." Azaylia offers with a careless shrug, smile persisting. "I'm sure it'll be fine by the time I need it." And if not, it's not likely that anyone's going to hear her complain. "Though I do like that anybody can visit, not just riders." Clearly the weyrling doesn't share her dragon's paranoia at being so easily to reach. Hraedhyth will drop deeper into the springs, sliding under the bronze's chin and giving it a bump for his reluctance. Maybe it's meant to be reassuring. « Oh. Okay. » She's clearly not in a rush to go, unlike another gold. Another bump, along his shoulder as she passes, « Know your enemy. » Once again, her words are tainted by Vysravth's thrum. He has good ideas. "'least neither of you have to take the one someone died in." Two someones, if you think of it in that way, but K'del is obviously trying not to: at least there are no visible stains from that second death."Mm, I've always found that useful. I mean - Milani could visit any time, back when we were together. And it's good when Cadejoth wants to keep his eggs company on the sands. Plus: baths." This is important. K'del sets down his mostly-empty mug, now, giving Azaylia a thoughtful glance before he adds, "Anyway, that's really Iolene's business, not mine." Cadejoth seems pleased by Hraedhyth's bumps, and blows bubbles in her direction as she passes, his tail snaking out to nudge her in reply. « Ah, » he confirms. « Yes. I don't know that they're really our enemy... but they can't necessarily be trusted. Any of them. » Azaylia empties her cup, the swallow harder than it needs to be at the talk of death. A hiccup, "Ah. Yes, at least there's that." A hopeful peek into her mug, as if it'll magically fill up and give her an excuse to overstay her welcome. No such luck, though there's an odd little smile on her lips, not that the weyrling is aware of it. "Visitors do sound nice. And- a bath?" Really? That's even better. Brown eyes glaze, a curious expression, "Oh. Hraedhyth's at the hot pool? Cadejoth's with her." Azaylia stands, leaning over to place the mug down and giving a reluctant sigh. "She's got the right idea." What with all this talk of baths and such, "And I really should go back to looking over my own work." Babysteps. She smiles, "Thank you for the tea, K'del." Hraedhyth is very physical, but so few trust her not to hurt. With the bronze, she doesn't have to worry about it. Not yet, anyway. « Any? » The gold's thoughts flicker, not agreeing as strongly as before, but there's no threat of her arguing. « Still, it is good to know them. Learn of them. » Bubbles are returned to Cadejoth, rapid and numerous, putting those growing lungs to use. "He'll keep an eye on her," promises K'del. "And make sure she gets back safely, not too tired. Promise. I--" He seems reluctant to let the weyrling go, but at the same time, he's no doubt got plenty to do. Perhaps that's why he rises himself. "Thank you, Azaylia. For the gift. Means a lot. You'll drop in again? Guess we'll be neighbours, soon." Making it all the easier. "A bath, multiple rooms... there's definite benefits to being a goldrider. You're welcome, anyway. Any time. Good luck with it all? « Perhaps some. None I have met. » If there's a hint of stars, just for a moment, and a certain wistfulness... it's so easily cut off, so quickly. « It's worthwhile to be mindful. And yes - learn of them. That's good! » There's more of the usual Cadejoth in that last statement: more fun, more games. His seriousness ebbs away, as he throws his bulk heartily against the young queen. He can be trusted with little ones; sure he can. Azaylia gives a soft laugh, "I know he will." Startled only by her dragon's travels, there's no worry for the gold's safety. A glance for the safe, and her cloak by it. "You're welcome." She'll have to pass him to get to her borrowed things, stopping before she does for one more hug. "I'll try to visit more, if I can find you." A harmless tease spoken into his shoulder. He's a hard man to track down, lately. Pulling back, the weyr is beginning to sound nice and all, but she'll turn his own words on him with a sympathetic pinch to her brow. "Good luck." With talking to Iolene. Unspoken, but obvious. Once she's free she'll slip on her mostly dry cloak, gather up the sheets, and give the Weyrleader an energetic wave of farewell. « I have not met them. » Hraedhyth is curious of those stars, falling still within the pool at the unfamiliar. Foreign. Though Cadejoth banishes it, the scavenger has snatched just enough to go on, to track. But then she's shoved, and a yelp of surprise turns into a bugle of challenge. « You die, old man! » Not a drop of true threat, she'll rough house with her sire. He can be trusted with her, she is not so little! But when it's time to go, reluctant though Hraedhyth may be, she will follow. K'del seems glad of, even grateful for, that hug, and leans in to it - even if his grip has less intensity, this time. "I'll try and be more available," he promises, leaving off reply to the rest of what she says in order to leave it at that. Watching her go, his expression is rueful, but not unhappy. « Not as easily as all that! » retorts Cadejoth, eagerly throwing himself into the game. He'll be as reluctant as she will in the leaving, but duties call-- still, when they part, back at the weyr, he'll have another affectionate bump for her, his thoughts full of contentment. Like father, like daughter. Good. |
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