Logs:Some People Like Torture
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| RL Date: 21 April, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Keysi, O'nahi, Telavi, Akluseth, Neianth, Kuviath, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlings aren't doing things. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Log ends when I left. If you have more, please add! |
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| A blissfully pretty afternoon day, complete with warm weather, bleating hatchlings, and the evocative smell of hatchling poop... means that the insufficiently-slept Telavi's avoiding the latter, at least, by sitting on the steps of the garden patio ledge, watching-- more or less-- a cluster of weyrling dragons play. She even has a sunhat to shade her tired eyes. Solith's in the vicinity, letting herself be an island to play around. Kuviath is playing the hell out of this day, all gangly limbs and awkward steps. Fortunately he's still just a little thing because otherwise shirtless O'nahi might be in trouble with the way the blue keeps bumping and body-checking his legs between charging his clutchmates and running back to his weyrling. "I'm gonna be bruised if you keep that up," O'nahi tells the hatchling, crouching down to grab his face and say something more private before Kuviath is galloping off in the other direction and O'nahi falls back, spread-eagle, with a relieved sigh. He gets a few moments of peaceable silence before Telavi murmurs, amused, "How long until he comes back? I mean, really." The weyrling tilts his head to look back at the voice upside-down. He sighs again, this time less relieved, more resigned. "Few minutes, at least. But if I just lay here, he'll get bored and run off again, right?" O'nahi, an ideas guy. "Right, right," Telavi humors the skinny weyrling with that much more cheer. "He definitely won't stick his muzzle in your armpit and snuffle." She yawns. And since it's of theoretical interest pertaining to dragons, "Are you ticklish? Is he?" "That's not information I'm willing to divulge." No one should ever admit to being ticklish. O'nahi is smarter than that! The blue weyrling is near the steps up to the patio, but not directly in the path of anyone trying to go down or up. It's good, because he does not look very willing to move right now. Kuviath is galloping around with the other dragons, making all sorts of audible noises because it's fun. "He's kind of ticklish. But he barely sits still long enough for it to matter." "So you are," says Tela knowingly, her smile curving but her drowsy green-today eyes staying on the dragonets. "That's all right. It happens. Do you want him to sit still? Or are you just as happy that he's--" She waves a hand, languid, much like a Lady drifting a wave to a crowd. "What do you think." It's not really asked like a question. O'nahi is tired and must think the answer to it is obvious enough that he doesn't need to hear it. He relaxes, closes his eyes. "Are they always so... everywhere?" He doesn't open his eyes to ask it. Edyis is a shameless opportunist, because she is taking full advantage of Solith's playing with the weyrlings to get in some studying, books tucked under arm as she sneaks, or well tries to sneak into a spot on the ledge. "Oh, Hi Telavi, Hi O'nahi." Bubbles, Bubbles! All kinds of silvery fluttery bubbles, burbling through blue-green waters. Such is the impression of draconic laughter as the flame-licked brown races his clutch siblings around the mountain that is Solith. « Too slow. » (To Solith and Kuviath from Akluseth) She just laughs, and tucks a braid back behind her shoulder, her hair contained away from weyrling... leavings. "Most of them," Telavi admits. "And-- oh, Edyis. Look at you. What is it today?" To O'nahi, "She can't possibly rest like us. It isn't allowed." Solith's tail flicks. She doesn't actually move to trip any dragonets, though; perhaps she's too nice a dragon to be tempted. "Hey," says O'nahi, tilting his head back to look for an upside-down face but giving up before he finds one. "Some people like to torture themselves. You one of those people, Ed?" No judgment from him, just trying to understand why anyone would do something when they can do nothing. For maybe the first time in a while! And maybe the last time in a while! Edyis says, "Whaa?" Is her rather dazed reply. "I'm sorry, I was just... trying to get in some studying." And possibly sneak a mug of klah and food while her lifemate is distracted. "It isn't torture, it's called being prepared." She sighs, without judgement, ordering food and sweet, sweet klah as she settles into a seat. "If he's bothering her though, I can..." She trails off distractedly." Tail flick? No problem. There's a rush of emerald green waves, like the slow build of energy before he's leaping, leaping! Over that tail. So it probably looks cooler in his head than in actuality. (To Solith, Kuviath, and Neianth from Akluseth) "Bothering whom? O'nahi isn't bothering me at all," Telavi assures brightly, right as Solith curves a look over her shoulder to see whether the next dragonet will copy Akluseth or not. "You know, though," with more seriousness now, "if you don't get enough sleep, everything goes to pot." Everything. "Prepared for what?" This argument makes no sense to the blue weyrling. He doesn't sound disgusted, though, just baffled. Shirtless O'nahi still seems to have no intention of getting up for where he's laying spread-eagle on the ground near the stairs to the patio's ledge. Definitely not while Kuviath is distracted by... well, who cares, really? He's distracted. Steps are slow but determined in and of themselves as Keysi and her shadow arrive from farther across the bowl. Neianth is first to move past His with his rapid stalking, a low hiss of impatience at just how long it takes him to get anywhere. Blue eyes are hinted at with the faintest touch of red as he approaches Solith and his brothers. His steps are direct, meaningful. Bold. His awkwardly large wings mantled as if to make him big. Bigger than Solith. A tiny creel from the three foot long brown is perhaps supposed to be intimidating. Keys herself moves with quiet intention to join the others at the stairs. To his brothers, there's an invading ripple in a still reflecting pool that's utterly dark until the aggitation brings about light and variances of depth- a greeting. To Solith, his heavy mind presses curiously, the ripples quickening and completely obscuring reflection. Playfully challenging? (To Solith, Kuviath, and Akluseth from Neianth) "Harper Evaluations will be next month for one." Edyis offers to O'nahi, before wrinkling her nose at Telavi. "I meant Seaweed brain over there." The leaping dragonet gets indicated with a vague gesture as the mug and food arrive. "I do sleep." Comes almost petulantly but then again the Savannah rider probably knows better. Akluseth is already lapping around the green for a second, (more graceful) leap. Keysi? She gets a smile and a wave from Edyis's seat on the patio. Ripples become waves, waves dappled and gilt by sunshine. Waves meant to overwhelm his little brown brother. « Come on Neianth, bet you can't jump over Solith's tail. » He challenges. (To Solith, Kuviath, and Neianth from Akluseth) "Because if you fail your harper evaluation, we take your dragon back and send you home," Telavi says brightly, and not while keeping a straight face, either. Her feet swing in her pretty sandals; her braided hair's long and lush enough to have never ever seen a weyrling crop. Solith, meanwhile, peeks over at that nudge rather than the creel, looking higher than the second brown's actual height before dropping her gaze and even her muzzle down. She sniffs, her interest a curious zephyr that all but dances along the pool's surface; while any attempt to intimidate might have gone right over her head, she might be disposed to pretend. Kuviath skids to a halt, almost ending up sitting before he's twisting to galumph his way back toward where O'nahi is already groaning because he knows what's coming. He turns, curls up on his side like that will protect him from the little blue. Kuviath creels, though, stepping on O'nahi's hip before laying on him and making terribly pitiful sounds. He's so weak, practically starving. "Fine," says the weyrling, and just like that Kuviath is up and taking off in the direction of food. Or whatever it is they've agreed on. O'nahi picks himself up off the ground, looks at Telavi specifically like he might say something, then just turns to go deal with the dragonet. |
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