Logs:Spies
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| RL Date: 6 May, 2011 |
| Who: Tiriana, Warucori |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana is having issues. Warucori helps. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 9, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. |
| Mentions: V'teri/Mentions |
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| A nice summer afternoon finds many out and about in the weyr, not least of these Tiriana. The Weyrwoman's not ballooning yet, but that tiny tell-tale bump's starting to show up, more's the pity to anybody who dares comment on it. The rosy maternal glow hasn't taken the edge off her temper, and she's visibly seething as she struggles with Iovniath's straps, despite the gold's helpful nudgings. Zaxameth lands with a flurrish and a loud trumpet of greeting to the dragons around. Nothing out of the norm for him, nor for Cori who swings down, landing with a heavy whoumph. "Oh, hello Weyrwoman." Not so familiar with the goldrider to be on a first-name basis really. The strap-struggling doesn't go unnoticed, "Need an extra hand?" That might be as good as complimenting the glow. "I do not need any help, you--you--" Good insults are hard to come by for Tiriana at present, and she ends up just throwing down the straps, which she's mostly just tangled up more anyway. "R'uen just let Rianev mess with them this morning and now they won't just. They, you know." She waves her hands about, quite flustered. The mess of straps lurks at her feet: nothing too difficult to sort out except she's too worked up to do it herself now. So finally, hopelessly, she says, "Fix it?" Isforaith isn't snickering in the background, nope. Iovniath is not cussing Isforaith because she's a Lady. Death glares will suffice instead. Isforaith isn't snickering at Mom, just at Mom's dumb rider, duh. There's totally a diff. Zaxameth tips his head and eyes the mess of straps curiously but he somehow manages to hold back despite his eager interest. There's just a swaying back and forth instead. "Oh, I know you could do it yourself, but an extra set of hands is better." Taking a step closer she has a look at what the state of the straps are, "Lets see..." grabbing up one lose strap she gives a twist and pull to get one tangle 'fixed'. "Going to get out and enjoy this sunshine?" Funny how hard it is not to peek looks at Tirianna. There's a very subtle touch from Iovniath toward Zaxameth, gratitude in the cool brush of fur she sends his way. Tiriana, for her part, just slumps over into a seat on her gold's foreleg, head in hands. "Damn kids," she mumbles, releasing a slow breath. It seems to do her some good in relaxing, at least, though she still doesn't move to get up or help fix her mess more than by nudging the end of one pile closer toward Warucori. "That's what we were /trying/ to do. Go flying. Get out of this place for a while. It's so--claustrophobic." Warucori says, "We just came back from a nice trip out. It is beautiful out. There's this place with berry bushes...Mmm..." Yeah, the girl is a sucker for anything that tastes good. Zaxameth croons cheerfully at the gold and leans slowly in to peer at the interesting coils of straps. His rider pulls and tugs and antoher loop comes unknotted. "Goodness, did the child try to tie someone up in this?"" "Iovniath, probably," mopes Tiriana. "Or R'uen. Rev'd probably let him, too, if it came to that." Another melodramatic sigh and she finally stands back up, heading over to one of the tangles to start sorting it out herself now that the worst of her tizzy is past. "It's what they do, you know? Boys. Almost makes you wish for a girl, except... not." Warucori laughs softly, "I hear that boys are much easier, but girls 'seem' like more fun. Think of all the dress up you could play with them." Another loop comes undone and she offers the 'done' part to Tiriana, or lays it to the side anyway and works on the other length. "So...did you do something different with your hair?" See, she's not going to ask about the bump. Aghast, Tiriana stop working entirely to stare at Warucori. "Dress up? /Dress up/? Do I /look/ like I want to play dress up with some little bratty princessy girl?" Because there's only room for one of those in her family. Firmly, "I am having a boy. And that is it." Beat. "I... what? I got it trimmed a little, I guess?" The conversation shift is enough to have her pausing, pulling a few strands of her long hair in front of her face as though she's curious about it herself. Warucori's cheeks pinken with embarassment for touching on the wrong subject with Tiriana, oh boy. Better to stick with the hair angle, oh yes. A broad smile, "It looks great. Nice for this little heat-wave we're having right?" And ah-ha she gets the last bit of strap straightend up. See. "So, I hears a bit of gossip, that there was some sort of hunt going on. Is there? A hunt being planned?" "Thank you." Compliments are the way to Tiriana's heart, apparently, for that one earns a quick smirk but no further reply--she's too busy cocking her head at the mention of a hunt. "A hunt? Like, a hunt?" She mimes drawing a bow, like that will make it clearer. "I don't know of anything? Why, do you want to go hunting? Because it's really very boring. Way too much sitting around, being quiet, hoping something strolls close enough that you can hit it." Warucori laughs and spreads her hands helplessly, "I just overhead someone talking about a 'hunt' during a card game last night. Have to admit that I'm not sure it's my thing either but I've been trying a lot of new things lately." She makes a face about the boring part and adds, "Not a fan of the 'cleaning' afterwards either." Treasure hunting and hunt-hunting just aren't connecting. Iovniath, at least, is relatively clueful, and she reaches out an image to Zaxameth: gold, jewels, all sorts of shiny things. « I believe Riuscyth's is organizing a hunt of a different sort, » she notes. Tiriana, meanwhile, shoots the gold a sharp look. "A /what/? And you didn't tell me?" she says out loud, scowling at the gold. Iovniath is impervious to such, though, and only chuffs lightly. Tiriana shoots an accusing look at Warucori. "I do not like that man," she announces. "So here's what you're going to do. You're going to go find out all his plans, and then tell me, and I'll... do something." Something that is TBA. Zaxameth has lost interest in the straps now that they don't make interesting pictures in the knots. His mindvoice has the warmth of baked bread and the tones of french horns buzzing in the background before he speaks, « Not to catch prey? » Curious now, « What other hunt is there? » A mental nudge to his rider--nudge nudge, Cori's head tips as she glances at Zaxameth's bubbly excitement at the fun-time-game. "of course we can go I... Oh you don't know either huh? Who is 'that man'?" She dimples at the prospect of being a spy, "Oh! Sounds fun." « For treasure, apparently, » is Iovniath's answer. « Humans with a little power do like to make such extravagant shows of it, after all. » Tiriana's mouth, though, widens into a smug little smirk. "I... don't know--Iovniath?" Beat. The gold supplies Zaxameth an image, and Tiriana the name: "V'teri. This little twerp from Monaco. You'll hear him coming, I'm sure." Glower. Warucori twists a little coil of her hair around her fingers, "Oohh, V'teri..." It takes the supliment from the blue to give the face. "Is he one of those mouth-breathers?" Perhaps she shouldn't look too eager to play the role of spy. "'looks' cute." Zaxameth rumbles with a hightened exuberence, « Treasure!» Maybe dragons of the same type like it too. « Don't you like shinny-things? » Being shinny herself, perhaps not. "He's just... obnoxious." And she should know. "Might try the infirmary for him; I put him in there a while back." She's quite smug about it still. Iovniath, though, is above such things. All cool and reserve, she answers, « I find it garish and unbefitting of one's station. Only those with little true power need resort to such displays. » Warucori oohs and her eyes widen, "You really did? Really? What did he do?" Would he really have to do much? Her lips widen in a sly smile, "Maybe I could soften him up with cookies." Because everyone thinks with their stomach like her right? « Is it? Garish? » Images of sun-struck glass and beads from his collection flip towards his dam as though each one could convince her otherwise, « They are pretty. Pretty is nice. » Then the blue decides, « I will find something good for you. » "He was... obnoxious. Look, you just have to meet him. I can't explain it. He's just--like that," Tiriana announces in exasperation. "Just find out what he's up to and let me know. I'll expect to hear something soon, all right?" And Iovniath, for all her pronouncements of taste, allows an indulgent brush of snow to touch her son's mind. « If you like, » she agrees. Warucori smiles and sketches out a salute, "I will pick his brain and see what he's plotting then. Sure." Cheerful enough at the assignment, she offers back the 'fixed' straps, "I think that's as good as I can get it." The new spy gives the Weyrwoman a wave, "Anyway, I'd best be going, day is wasting and you could be out enjoying some sun and surf." Or whatever. |
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