Logs:Scars
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 16 July, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Ebeny |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Needing some away time, Alida goes to Fort to nose around, and finds Ebeny pondering cave-ins and claustrophobia. |
| Where: Bowl Falls, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 4, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: 54F; misting rain. |
| Mentions: D'kan/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: A sevenday after the Fortian barracks cave-in. |
  |
| Bowl Falls, Fort Weyr Rising up from the bowl floor roughly in the middle of the open space between the broken arms of the bowl wall, are three promontories of stone, the shortest is only a few feet off the ground and slouches to the far left of the other two, both about the height of a full-sized adult. The central pillar is uneven and boasts the oddity of a half-set of shelves carved at roughly the right height for reaching up frm the ground. The rightmost pillar is narrower, though it thickens toward the top and is notched and grooved along its length from thousands of turns of pressure from the earthslide that used to lie on top of it. A stone-lined channel guides water from the lake between the pillars where it cascades off the end of the bowl and down the mountainside away from the Weyr in a series of stepped falls and pools. Beyond the rightmost pillar, a set of stairs rises up from a rough arm of stone that used to be a part of the bowl wall and continues on into the wall itself through a carved opening. Though many have opted to spend the day inside to avoid the rain that's plagued the Weyr on and off from morning's light, Ebeny is one of the few with no clear preference to be inside one of Fort's many caverns and warmer than she would be where she stands in the misty downpour. Down by the falls is far enough away from the ruined barracks to see them, yet not close enough to be /made/ to, the Weyrlingmaster's muddy-green eyes only occasionally seeking out for the former home of her charges (and even her own weyr). The distant, shadowy smudge of green on one of the junior ledges is her missing lifemate, for Ben finds herself alone as light begins to fade from the sky, her arms folded and stance tense. Does she not /want/ to go inside? She's not wanting to go South today, but the cold of 'Reaches is just enough to drive Alida out of her home, once wing duties are over with. She hasn't been to Fort for a few months... Impulse driving the blonde, she grabs some jerky from the Kitchens to sustain her between meals, scrabbles up Ilicaeth's broad form, and directs him Between. Soon enough, the gritty blue erupts out above Fort, rumbling his casual greetings to the watchpair. Down, down they spiral, and it's keener dragon eyes that quickly 'treat' both 'Reachians to the debris littering the ground just outside of the barracks...and then Ebeny's self mulling about somewhat nearby. Alida might usually avoid such situations, but now that her dragon's committed to landing here, she doesn't direct him elsewhere. Backwinging might or might not ruffle the greenrider's hair, and with economical motion, Ilicaeth's on the ground, and folding his pinions up tight, blue eyes whirling slowly as he offers a direct peer at the tall woman some hundred yards away. As for his rider, she's climbing, then sliding down from his neck and leg, then removing goggles, though not helmet. A small frowny-face for the crappy mist all about presages a slow amble towards that fateful area, Ebeny's form assessed by neutral, deep green eyes along the way. Once with polite earshot, "Afternoon, Weyrlingmaster," is offered up by an alto voice that's fast and clipped, Alida's accent perhaps speaking of her origin as somewhere within the Southern continent's interior. Ben tenses more for being acknowledged than for the site of the foreign blue, her distant stare perhaps having not noted his arrival or his presence in the landscape whatsoever. Alida's voice brings her back from wherever she's been, eyes that all too easily slip out of focus and back again fixing on the shorter woman with vague interest that seems to go beyond a mere lack of recognition. "Bluerider," she returns, voice lacking in any edge whatsoever, though the taint of the 'Reaches is clear even after so many turns at Fort. "My regards to your lifemate." Fingers of one hand lock around the opposing elbow, curling where her other hand can't quite, split and cast supported by her good arm as she shifts her weight slightly and sends a nod over to Ilicaeth. She's good at reading people after Turns of her once-and-always profession, and when Alida sees Ebeny's disinclination towards chat, she heeds such, especially since she's not particularly social herself. Of course she can't help but notice the leftover of that 'Reachian accent, Alida's own voice laced with enough cadences of such, too. "Ta' yers, as well. Ilicaeth..." is noted with a look over to her still-as-a-statue blue...well, except for his flexing, coppery claws and a long tail that twitches and seems to almost vibrate like a rattlesnake's, on occasion. The Fortian's nod to the blue elicits a soft rumble to her in return, the outsider suddenly pacing into forward motion that will lead him comfortably around the women, and towards the piled up, and also scattered rubble about the entrance to the barracks. "Condolences fer yer loss," the woman notes low, her eyes shifting between the greenie, her curious blue, and said barracks. The blonde appears to be ready to walk onward, apparently unwilling to interrupt a mind that seems to want to be left alone, so unless Ebeny makes motions or words to the contrary, the 'Reachian will leave her to her thoughts, and move off. It's not Alida that Ben makes any move to continue speaking with, but her blue that she seeks to stop, addressing him directly with a blurted, "No, please--" as she lurches awkwardly into action, like she could herd Ilicaeth away from even brief acquaintance with the remains of the barracks if she just moves fast enough. There's no flailing of arms or actual invasion into his space to stop him, but her path takes her to stand directly between the foreign blue and what /was/ Fort's barracks like a one woman army. Only when she's literally and metaphorically dug her heels in does her focus swing back to Alida, tremor in her voice as she repeats her plea. "Don't let him near them. Please." As if it's all sacred ground, not that she fears for his safety. Smart as a soldier, Ilicaeth stops immediately at Ebeny's motion and words, the blue slowly and cautiously letting his head drift lower so he can put his eyes on the Weyrlingmaster's level. Warm, slightly meaty breath whuffs over her form for a moment, the craggy young beast then offering a raspy, yet deep croon to her. Moving to her dragon's side in her own crisp fashion, Alida notes quietly to Ebeny, "Pardons. He says 'e didn' mean ta' be rude." From far across the bowl, a roar sounds from the dark green on that ledge, Laurienth's wings flared and her whole awkward form tensed, yet she remains stood where she is as if her opal-splashed paws have been glued to the very rock. The noise makes Ben twitch and momentarily close her eyes, though she stands her ground in the face of finding Ilicaeth so close, staring silently back at him until she offers up the palm of her good hand and murmurs, "I'm sorry." And then she tilts her head slightly to find Alida again, a quick, curt nod given. "I know," she assures, however much she can't possibly /know/. "...It's just that it's not-- They're still-- It's--" Taking a deep breath, she tries to compose herself, and only then does she attempt to speak again. "I'm Ebeny," she opts for. "Laurienth's. And I /do/ make sense most of the time, I promise." The craggy blue very carefully fits his nose in against Ebeny's palm, giving the much smaller hand a gentle bump and his own miniscule little rub, as if offering her his own, draconic pet of condolence. And then slowly back and up comes his head, curving back some so he can warble over his shoulder in Laurienth's direction. Alida simply shakes her head once, offers Ebeny a low, "Nothin' ta be sorry over." After the older woman tries to find the right words to express her feelings at the terrible circumstance, the blonde murmurs in her clipped, brisk fashion, "Takes time ta get sh- yer marbles back t'gether." A long look over to the barracks presages, "Too fresh." His presence is golden sands of the driest desert, this time swirling in a light eddy, Ilicaeth's genial, yet subdued, no-nonsense baritone noting to the green, « Pardons, ma'am. » (To Laurienth from Ilicaeth) "Marbles..." Ben echoes quietly, automatically lifting her arms to fold them again, if only to keep her broken wrist from swinging freely at her side. "I guess... that's a good way of putting it," she has to agree. "Lot of marbles," the greenrider utters under her breath, glancing down at the floor for a second, then up again to make herself stay focused and in the present. "How's the Reaches?" she asks in an abrupt change of subject, veering firmly away from anything that might make her stammer or prevent her from stringing a coherent sentence together. "Most of my siblings still live there. Grandmother too. Most of the family, actually..." The dark maze of her mind firmly /shut/, the thrum of an out of tune guitar issues forth to meet Ilicaeth, kept low and away from shrieking in a painful manner. Approval, if Laurienth is capable of such a thing, and what forgiveness might be had or wanted. « You weren't to know. » Abrupt, contact then cut off. (To Ilicaeth from Laurienth) Waiting for Ebeny's reaction, the still and quiet Reachian bobs her head in mute agreement, then noting, "Alida." Beat. "Depends on the condition ya left it in. Could be better, could be worse." Dry, that. "Hold 'r Weyr?" the bluie inquires, then going out of her usual, grumpy way to inquire again of Ebeny, "How're yer kids doin'?" The Weyrlings. He knows when to finally keep his yap shut, especially given the woman he chose to bond with, so when Laurienth offers that, Ilicaeth can only chuff back with continued geniality, and withdraw. (To Laurienth from Ilicaeth) "Well met," seems automatic, no real thought given to offering the usual pleasantry, not that it sounds any less sincere. "The Weyr," Ben clarifies with the faintest of smiles. "We - my weyrmate and I - left turns ago. Laurienth's one of Iovniath's. I hope it's not falling down, at least. Had enough of that when the star stones went." Joking? Trying to, perhaps, to get to a place where words come more easily. She takes a deep breath, holding both it and what answer about the weyrlings might follow in some quiet, not-quite-there-yet cavity in her chest, then exhales and gives a shallow nod. "They're... not great. A lot of them," the Weyrlingmaster responds, honest if nothing else. "Scared. Guess I can't expect them to be okay right away." It's just meaningless pleasantries, which Alida often blows right by, anyhow, the blonde not even bothering with such as she listens to the substance of what Ebeny has to offer. A small raise of brow for Laurienth and her coming from one of Iovniath's clutches has the bluie offering a faint smirk-smile, her clipped alto factoring in, "Not physically, that I know uv." Her expression goes neutral again with words of the 'kids' not being so good, the 'Reachian murmuring, "Lots'a crap they're gonna be dealin' with." Nod. "Inner scars last longer." She sounds like she has experience with those. "Good," Ben murmurs, able to be glad for that much news of her old home. "We used to live in the Weyr with the blue door." Assuming that there's only one of those still. Belatedly, she shoots a look back over her shoulder towards that ledge where Laurienth now lies on guard, as ever. "I'm sorry, she's... well, she's rude," she offers to Alida, a helpless little half-shrug given. In looking back the bluerider, her green eyes find the mouths of Fort's caverns proper, her attention lingering on them longer than one might have reason to study such simple things. "D'you want me to show you where to get a drink? I don't think this rain's going to ease up." A likewise simple offer and one that's likely unnecessary, but it sounds an awful lot like she needs a purpose to make herself head inside those caverns. "No kiddin'?" Alida inquires almost archly, a slender bit of a grin finding its home upon her lips for a moment, a faint twinkle in her green eyes. "I think Deke... D'kan chose that one. Brownie - Kazavoth's - from my clutch." A blink of small confusion over word of Laurienth soon has the bluerider making a small face, her hand waving it off. "Psh; unless she's rippin' inta us, me 'n 'caeth could give a damn." Of her blue: "He c'n get pretty snarky 'imself." Smirk. Said blue snorts lightly in response, then baring his fangs in a monstrous attempt at a human grin. The impressiveness of his teeth might suggest that his dam is Hraedhyth, to any in the know, but they quickly disappear behind lips again, perhaps to the relief of enough. A quick bit of a rarer smile is called up in return for Ebeny's offer of a drink. "Lemme' go ya one better: I'm buyin'." Pause. "The Fountain?" Grin. "Like it." Turns of working with unpredictable weyrlings and a vicious lifemate just about manage to keep Ben from rearing back at that show of teeth, her tiny smile not lacking in some small shred of amusement. "Maybe it's meant to be a brownrider's weyr," she says of that blue-doored one. "It was my weyrmate's before it was ours - brown Corvinth's." Manners might protest that she should buy the drinks, given her offer, but Ben isn't so much of a arguer outside work, and so she gracefully accepts Alida's offer with the slight broadening of her smile and a bob of her head. "The Fountain..." she agrees, yet there's a hint of hesitation when she eyes the caverns again. The Fountain /is/ in the depths of the Weyr. But no, it's not going to get the better of her, and she nods towards those entryways. "Come on," she encourages, "we might beat the dinner rush." And, on the way there, Alida will be one of many to learn that, once Ben starts talking, it's often pretty difficult to get her to shut up again. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 01 Mar 2013 09:08:46 GMT.
<
Quick and painless for both parties! Except for snow shoveling. Bleeeh.
Leave A Comment